the day you walked into the pitt wearing a sparkling diamond on that finger, a betting pool started courtesy of ahmad to guess who your lucky fiancé is.
you’ve always kept your personal life private — a lot of the med students didn’t even know you were in a relationship. some guess that it’s someone else who works in the hospital, others guess that it’s a complete stranger. a very specific answer even makes its way onto the board, whitaker guessing that you’re engaged to some rich chef who owns a five star restaurant.
you notice that the betting board has more answers written on it during a particularly quiet moment of your shift, and you roll your eyes at some of them. for some of the smartest people in the world, your colleagues really are dim.
if they looked a little closer, they would notice that your phone lock screen is literally a photo of you and shen kissing.
“they still haven’t figured it out, huh?” you turn to your right to find your golden retriever of a fiancé smiling at you, his backpack slung over his shoulder.
“if they haven’t by now, i don’t think they ever will.” you smile back at him.
“also, our coffee machine is doing something weird. would you mind taking a look at it when you get home?” he asks.
“john, i’ve just come off a twelve hour shift.”
“and there’s dinner in the fridge,” he smiles sheepishly. “for your troubles.”
“you don’t even use the damn machine anyway. don’t think i don’t see you with those dunkin cups.”
summary: asking your partner if you should lose weight.
characters: donnie donahue, jack abbot, baran al hashimi, frank langdon, dennis whitaker, mateo diaz, john shen, dana evans, jesse van horn.
a/n: hello hello!! im here to give you another text fics. Hope you like this one!! And don't worry, the girls version is posted already. To make things easier for me I added Baran and Dana here hehe. lmk what you think, I love your comments and re read every you say
summary: a blizzard??? in the middle of march??? time for a hospital sleepover ofc!!
warnings: MDNI 18+, swearing, typical crack fic, slight bullying of frank langdon and james ogilvie, shen is reader's evil twin, roommates with santos & whitaker trope, jack abbot x reader crumbs... om nom nom
a/n: hello armpittling nation!! come get y'all food !!! we got sooo much snow where I live, i couldn't help but think about if a blizzard hit ptmc and the incidents that would happen with that like...might just write a drabble about it or something. lmk if you would be interested, and if you want to be on the taglist!! <3 you guys :)
Notes: Can I interest you in parentified eldest daughter falling in love with a man with some fucking whimsy
Warnings: Exes to lovers; Whump. Lots of whump; descriptions of Reader being sick multiple times (not super explicit); mentions of pregnancy (but no actual pregnancy); reader is a workaholic; cursing; flashbacks; complicated family dynamics; reader has named sisters - no physical descriptions; canon-typical medical situations; reader's age is unspecified, but she and her sisters are all adults
Summary: John’s hands hook onto the railing of the gurney, his eyes darting to your face every few seconds as your entourage of medical professionals steers you down the hall.
“So,” He offers, “Fancy seeing you here.”
And you so don’t want to let him make you smile, but you can’t help yourself.
“This is a bit much,” He adds as you’re wheeled onto the elevator, “I mean, I told you you could call and you show up at my job instead? I appreciate the effort, but you're coming off a little desperate.”
When you propel yourself out of bed, you’re blindly guided by two things: your instinctual knowledge of where your en suite bathroom is, and your stomach violently rejecting its contents.
You drop to the floor, knees roughly smacking the cold tile as you fumble with the lid of your toilet. Your body shudders as you heave, fingers gripping the cool porcelain desperately. When the sickness finally lets up, you lean back, blinking the tears from your eyes. You swallow thickly, drawing in a deep breath, then wincing as your stomach threatens to revolt again. You lean back, closing the lid and flushing the toilet as you fight to steady your breathing.
The knocking on your door makes you jump, and you raise a shaking hand to your chest, croaking,
“Yeah?”
“You okay in there?”
You nod, though your youngest sister can’t see you, then manage,
“‘M fine.”
“Can I open the door?”
“...Yeah.”
It’s a moment before Lisa’s opening the door and peering inside, her brow furrowed at the sight of you where you’re still sitting on the floor.
“Are you okay?”
“You already asked me that.”
“Yeah, but that was before I saw you looking like…Well, this.”
“Who taught you to be so sweet?”
“You did.”
You offer a wobbly smile, huffing softly as you push yourself up. “Asshole.”
“Uh-huh.” Lisa folds her arms across her chest. “What the hell, by the way?”
“I don’t know,” You grumble, pumping soap into your hands and scrubbing up along your arms where you were leaning against the toilet. “Probably something I ate last night.”
“Could always call your doctor friend and make sure.”
The mention of him has your stomach churning again. “Ha-ha.”
“He should be getting off-shift soon,” Lisa adds as you rinse with mouth wash, “Could invite him over for a check-up.”
You swish, spit, and shoot Lisa a glare couched in a sickly sweet smile.
“Thanks for all of your help, Li.”
Lisa snorts, pushing off of the door frame as she drawls, “Fiiine. I’m gonna get ready for class.”
“You need a ride?”
“No, Joey’s gonna come pick me up—don’t.”
“Hm.”
“Don’t start.”
“I wouldn’t have to start if you weren’t making bad choices.”
“You never like my boyfriends.”
“That’s because all of your boyfriends—” You cut yourself off, raising a hand to staunch a nauseating belch, “Suck.”
When Lisa doesn’t answer right away, you figure that she’s left—but as you straighten back up, you find her watching you in the mirror with a narrowed gaze.
“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”
“Yeah,” You nod, turning to face her. “I’m working from home today, anyway. We’ve got rice, we’ve got broth, we’ve got saltines. Honestly, that was probably it, nothing left in the tank. I’m fine.”
Lisa hesitates before she closes the space between the two of you, raising her hand and pressing the back to your forehead. You force a poker face, doing your best not to lean into the coolness of her fingers. Her brow wrinkles, lips screwing to the side, then—
“I have no idea what your forehead is supposed to feel like.”
“Go to class and learn.”
Lisa scoffs, finally turning away and slouching back to her room. You wait until her footsteps have faded completely before reaching out, quietly pushing the bathroom door closed again. You swallow, wincing at the slight ache in your throat.
You don’t feel like you’re going to throw up again, but there’s an pain in your side, one that you hadn’t noticed when you were stumbling your way to bed. You raise your hand, rubbing slightly over a spot on your right and wincing again. Christ, that hurts. Did you bang it when you were getting down to get to the toilet? That must be it.
Of course, it couldn’t hurt to ask a professional. You didn’t block him, he said the door was still open if you ever wanted to talk, so maybe you could just send a quick little question—
No. No.
You have broth, you have rice, you have Google. You can figure this out. Besides, it probably really was just something you ate.
--
“This is John, the guy I’ve been telling you about!”
The words were half-lost on the music being pumped through your best friend’s place, and the chatter of the other people crammed into her shared 450 square foot two-bedroom apartment. You had been tempted to dip out of the party nearly an hour ago, but your friend had sworn that not only was the guy she was setting you up with going to eventually be there (even though he was running late), but he was well worth waiting for.
You turned to face the mystery man, and you were, admittedly, caught off-guard. It was a combination of things: the scrubs he was wearing, the Dunkin cup in hand, and the fact that the guy was really, really cute.
“Hi,” You said, offering your hand and your name in tandem. He took hold of your hand, dipping closer and requesting:
“One more time?”
You hesitated before leaning in and giving him your name again.
“Nice to meet you!” He smiled before glancing around. “It’s a little loud in here. You wanna get some air?”
It was cooler on your friend’s fire escape, and so much quieter. You curled your arms around yourself, toying with your little plastic cup of wine before glancing over at John.
“Can I ask,” You nodded toward the Dunkin.
“Oh—You want a sip?”
“No, no,” You shook your head. “I was wondering why you brought a…Frankly massive Dunkin iced coffee to a housewarming. Seems like an odd choice.”
“I could only stop by for a bit before I have to go to work.”
“Jeez, what time do you start work?”
“Shift starts at seven. Twelve hours.”
“Explains how big the coffee is.”
“Sure does.” He raised it again, giving it a little shake, the ice rattling against the plastic. “You sure you don’t want a sip?”
“Uh—No. Thanks.”
John just shrugged, raising the orange straw to his lips and taking a deep pull.
“You know, I was curious about you,” He offered once he’d swallowed.
“Oh?”
“Mhm. Heard a lot.”
“Good or bad?”
“Good, I think.”
“Like what?”
“Like…You’re the oldest of three sisters, really family oriented. Have your life together, have very high expectations for yourself…And that you’re a stickler for punctuality.” His teasing smile made your belly flutter. “Even more surprised that you’re still here, considering I’m late for our little set-up.”
And you could have told him that your friend had to talk you out of leaving twice, that you had nearly called it when her roommate’s sleazeball of a boyfriend tried to hit on you. All of that was true. But—
“Maybe I was curious about you, too.”
John’s bright smile made staying all the more worth it.
--
According to Google, you have food poisoning, stage 4 stomach cancer, and your period all at once.
And while you could waste your time speculating about something that’ll probably just pass, you choose instead to focus on your job. All you know for certain is that you have two reports due, three RFPs, and a presentation draft due by EoD, as well as a meeting with your manager for your annual review. All of that means only one thing:
You do not have time to spend fucking around, half-asleep in bed, or throwing up the little bit of room-temperature water that you’ve been able to get down.
But that doesn’t stop your body from revolting against you.
You manage to get bits and pieces of your work done in five to ten minute intervals, with your belly betraying any little bit of liquid, nutrients, or hope that you manage to take in. You go through your recipes, your fridge—you just manage to stop yourself from going through your trash to double check the dates on the ingredients that you used to make dinner last night. But it couldn’t really be that, could it? You’d checked all of the dates before you’d cooked, even thrown out a couple of ingredients because they were just a day past their best-by.
It’s your period, it has to be. This doesn’t feel anything like the last time you had food poisoning—at least, what you’re pretty sure was food poisoning.
--
“How ya doin’ over there, champ?”
You glared down at your phone, lips twisted into a pout. “I feel like death.”
“You’re answering me, so definitely not death.”
“I said I feel like death, not that I’m dying—ugh,” You groaned as your lower belly gurgled, shifting where you’d been sitting on your toilet for nearly ten minutes, “God.”
“What are your symptoms?”
“I really don’t want to disclose that to you.”
“Oh, c’mon,” John chuckled, “I’m a professional.”
“No!”
“Why not?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“It can’t be anywhere near what I see in the ED on the nightly.”
“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever seen?”
“Honestly? Couple’a days ago, we had a guy came in with a Darth Vader figurine stuck up where it shouldn’t have been.”
Your jaw dropped with a stunned laugh. “Are you serious?”
“Oh yeah. He thought he’d be able to keep it from slipping in completely because the cape was triangular, but it went a little too far. He came in when he gave up reaching for the feet.”
“...Okay, this is one step below that.”
“Just one?”
The slight smile in John’s tone had a grudging one pulling at your lips. “Maybe a couple.”
“Uh-huh. Tell you what, I get off shift in twenty. I’ll swing by with a goodie bag.”
“I can’t handle goodies right now, John.”
“Not even if those goodies include animal crackers, broth, electrolytes, and pepto bismol?”
“I’m not going to be much of a conversationalist.”
“It’ll be a drive by. You buzz me up, I hand you the bag, I steal a couple of kisses, you go back inside.”
“You have a suspicious amount of this interaction planned out.”
“Well, this girl I’m dating has told me that she likes a man with a plan.”
Your smile stretched into a full-blown, lovesick grin, and you raised your hand to scrub across your eyes.
“Fine. Just…give me a five minute warning before you get here?”
“Sure. Hey, you might even find a surprise Darth Vader figurine among your goodies—”
“John!”
--
By noon, you’ve managed to polish off your notes on the RFP, but the presentation and reports have barely been touched. You message your manager reluctantly, warning that you’re a little under the weather, but still in a good place to finish everything on your plate by EoD.
And you do have every intention of finishing things off. You decide to take a half-hour nap, just give your body a little bit of a rest before getting back on the horse.
It’s a good plan in theory—but your head hasn’t been down for two minutes before you’re clambering out of bed, hardly making it to the sink before the singular sip of gatorade you’d taken twenty minutes ago is making a bid for freedom.
You groan, resting your forehead against the sink—and then whine when you hear your cell phone ringing. You straighten slowly, bracing your hand back against the wall and stepping back into your room, taking up the phone from your bedside table. Oh—god. Do you have the patience for this call right now?
You lower yourself to your bed, swiping the call acceptance and sticking it on speaker.
“What’s up, Lilah?”
“Holy fuck, Lisa wasn’t kidding. You sound like shit.”
You muster a weak smile, drawing your legs into the bed and pulling your blankets around your lap.
“Mom and dad did a hell of a job curating your manners.”
“Mm, but you’re the one who really honed them, generalissimo.”
You roll your eyes, resting your pounding head back against the wall of decorative pillows that you’ve piled up, and have been using to keep yourself upright for the last few hours. Growing up as the middle child, Lilah had always been the one raging against your de facto parental machine, where Lisa tended to push back a touch, but ultimately fell in line.
You pull in a steadying breath, catching on the sounds of school kids in the background on the other end of the phone. Must be recess.
“Whaddaya want, bean?”
“I can’t just wanna talk to my big sister?”
“Willingly? It would be a first.”
“Are you pregnant?”
The thought nearly triggers another heave.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” You snap. “Did Lisa tell you that?”
“No, but—”
“I’m on birth control, I have always used protection—”
“Those things aren’t always 100%, accidents happen—”
“And it’s been a while.”
“...If you’re sure.”
“John and I broke up months ago,” You remind her, “And even before that, we hadn’t been…” You wince. “Intimate.”
“Blegh, okay, we get it.”
“I’m just saying—”
“God forbid the two of you pushed the beds together.”
“Lilah, for godssake—”
“I still don’t understand why you broke up with that man.”
The comment stops you in your tracks, eyes unfocused on your dimming laptop screen. You’ve done your best not to think about John—your ‘how’s and ‘why’s and ‘what might’ve been’s. The closest you’ve gotten in the last few weeks is the brief flirtation with his contact in your phone that morning.
“...Okay,” Lilah finally concedes, seeming to take your silence in the spirit with which it’s meant. “Not pregnant.”
“It’s probably actually my period, anyway. You know I get queasy when I’m PMSing—and my cramps suck right now. I’ll be spotting by, like, 3pm at the latest.”
“And if you’re not, your uterus will hear about it.”
“Exactly.”
A moment of slightly tense silence, punctuated only by the odd giggle and screech of children from her end.
“Alright,” Lilah sighs, “The principal is giving me the stink eye, I should probably pay attention to the kids.”
“Lilah—!”
“Kidding! Jesus. Feel better.”
“Thanks.”
Lilah’s grunt is her only sign off before the call cuts. You reach out, drawing your laptop close and squirting at the screen for a moment before squeezing your eyes shut at the throbbing of your headache. Christ.
It isn’t as if you haven’t explained your break up to Lilah, because you have—at least twice. But you’ll tolerate her needling, her willful ignorance, it doesn’t matter. It’s not her relationship, it’s yours—was yours.
--
“I don’t think I’m gonna get Christmas off.”
“Aw, really?” You frowned, setting your planner down on the kitchen table and watching John reach for one of the two remaining Munchkins in the carton he brought over. “I thought you asked.”
“I mean, I did, but it was a little slammed when it came up—more of an informal request.” He raised his fingers to suck the powder off of them, adding through a full mouth: “I put in for it, but it’s up in the air.”
“Hmm. Well if you can’t, that’s alright. It’s just gonna be me and the girls.”
“What about your parents?”
You waved John off, shaking your head. “They’re going to be on a cruise.”
“Oof,” John sighed, slouching back in his seat, “You think you felt bad when you had food poisoning—”
“Okay.”
“Those floating buffet-laden crap shows.”
“Okay!”
“Nice scenery, though.”
You rolled your eyes, propping your chin up on your hand as you considered him.
“What’s your mom gonna do if you can’t get Christmas off?”
John’s lips pressed into a thin line, and your eyes caught on the bob of his Adam’s apple, the fidget of his fingers toying with the strings on his hoodie.
“...John?”
Another moment before he shrugged. “What she does when I usually can’t get the holidays off, I guess.”
You opened your mouth to ask, but he was sitting up before you could, shuffling his chair closer. “So what’d you get me?”
Your confusion melted to fondness, mind flashing to the smart watch you’d spent weeks researching and comparison shopping for, and you scoffed, “As if I’d tell you.”
“C’mon, gimme a hint. Is it black? Red? Lacey?”
--
Your manager only gets two minutes into your performance review before she ultimately cuts it short.
“You know what, why don’t we reschedule?”
You try to tell her that you’re fine to go through with it, but she waves you off: “I’ll throw some time on for tomorrow. Take a break.”
You manage a weak smile, an, “Okay,” and a, “Ping me if you need anything,” before you close out of the meeting. You lower the laptop lid with a sense of defeat, tears crowding your dry, tired eyes. When the urge to puke pops up again, you can’t make it all the way to the bathroom, instead lowering yourself to the floor and hunching over the trash bin by your bed.
It’s nothing but bile that devolves into dry heaves, and by the time you’re through, your pounding head is spinning. You brace your hand on the floor, trying to ground yourself, but it doesn’t hold, and there’s nothing more you can do as your world tilts.
--
The hand on your cheek, then your forehead, is so cold, and a distant, “Holy shit,” sounds so familiar. It’s chased by, “How long has she been like this,” and a frantic, “She wasn’t this bad this morning!”
You groan as you’re turned onto your back, wincing at the onslaught of bright light. It takes a moment, but the face that swims into view is comforting.
“Li-Li,” You smile, raising a hand to cup Lisa’s cheek. “How was school?”
“How long have you been on the floor?”
“Did that boy drive you?”
You hear a scoff, a grumble of, “On death’s fucking doorstep and still the captain of the morality police.”
“Lilah, shut up—”
“Bean,” You struggle to crane your neck as you look for Lilah. “Lilah, what are you—” You try to sit up, flounder, flop back and whack your head roughly on the nightstand, “What’re—”
“Christ, Lilah, call a fucking ambulance!” Lisa snaps.
“Where’s—” You raise your hand, patting along as much of your sheets as you can reach, “Where’s my work laptop?”
“Okay,” Lisa soothes, easing you to lie down fully, “Just relax, okay? We’re gonna get you help.”
Even in your confusion and fog, you can hear her panic, and you tut softly. “I’m okay, Li. Tell bean.”
“Lilah—”
“I’m on with the fucking operator—No, I won’t watch my language, we need a fucking ambulance here, like ten minutes ago!”
--
You do your best to answer the EMTs, but they’re only a few questions in before they’re loading you onto a stretcher, telling your sisters that you’re being taken to Pittsburgh General.
Lisa’s climbing into the back of the ambulance with you, and you only manage to request that someone grab your work laptop before the doors are being slammed shut and Lilah is out of sight.
The ride is hellish, bumpy and painful, and far longer than it should be when you wind up rerouted to PTMC.
--
“Can we talk about Thanksgiving?”
“Sure. Are we rankin’ sides?”
You shot a sidelong glance in John’s direction, eyes narrowed slightly.
“Trying to make plans, actually.”
“Ah,” He nodded. “Yeah, we can try.”
“My parents are probably going to be in town for it this year,” You shifted in your seat, trying to settle your nerves. This was normal, this was something that couples dealt with all the time. So why were you bracing yourself? “And…I mean, we’ve been together for a while, almost a year now, so I wondered if you wanted to…Meet them, finally.”
“You really think they’ll hold still long enough for me to make their acquaintance?”
And it was a fair question, but stacking that on top of your mounting nerves was nearly enough to send you over the edge.
“It’s a yes or no question, J. I mean, I know some of it will hinge on whether you can get work off or not, but—”
“If they’re the deep fried turkey type and I’m on shift, maybe you can bring them in. They can see me in action.”
You closed your eyes, taking a steadying breath in and shaking your head. “Forget it.”
“I’m kidding—”
“Not everything is a joke, John.”
--
There’s so much input at once. The ambulance was its own array of sound, but now you have doctors, nurses, EMTs chatting over you, underscored by the chatter and yelling of fellow patients—and somewhere, not far off, your sister’s panicked voice as you’re wheeled into a room.
“I'm gonna be okay, Lisa,” You mumble, but your promise is cut off by a surge of pain. You can’t help but cry out, trying to squirm away from the pressure that’s been applied to your right side.
“We’ve got rebound tenderness.”
“What’s that mean?” You hiss.
“That means,” A new voice in the room, but not a new voice to you, “That we’re looking at—”
You lift your tearing eyes to that all-too familiar face as he finally registers that it’s you in the bed, as it stops him in his tracks.
“Shen?” Someone urges, but he’s breathing out, “Shit,” eyes flitting to where Lisa is huddled nearby.
“You know each other?” That same voice presses, and John manages,
“I was—She’s my—”
“Okay,” Someone else steps up to the bed, leaning over you, “Ma’am, I’m Dr. Abbot—”
And you’re trying to listen, you are, but you’re also tracking where John is rounding over to Lisa, leaning in to ask questions, to talk, to reassure, you can’t tell—
“Do you understand?” Abbot tacks on, but no, you don’t. You didn’t catch a word, he said, so you shake your head. “Your appendix is on the verge of bursting, we need to get you up to surgery.”
“Surgery?” Lisa pipes up, “Like, now?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Where’s Lilah?” You whimper.
“Oh—Shit, she’s going to the wrong hospital!” Lisa’s out the door without a second glance, drawing her phone out of her pocket.
“Listen,” Abbot leans closer to hold your attention, “If we don’t get your appendix out, it could cause some serious problems. It’s still intact, but we need to remove it before it can rupture and cause you any more problems.”
“OR’s prepped,” Is mentioned somewhere behind you, and suddenly the bed is moving again.
“I’ll go up with her.” John’s at your side in a second, and he and Abbot are sharing a look that you don’t understand over your gurney before Abbot drops away completely. John’s hands hook onto the railing of the gurney, his eyes darting to your face every few seconds as your entourage of medical professionals steers you down the hall.
“So,” He offers, “Fancy seeing you here.”
And you so don’t want to let him make you smile, but you can’t help yourself.
“This is a bit much,” He adds as you’re wheeled onto the elevator, “I mean, I told you you could call and you show up at my job instead? I appreciate the effort, but you're coming off a little desperate.”
“John.”
“Appendix, too, you overachiever. Couldn’t you have broken your wrist, gotten a concussion, something easier?”
Your mental fog is melting to clarity, mingling with your panicked nerves, and the little laugh that leaves you makes the ache in your side twinge.
“I mean, come on,” He’s leaning against the railing now, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the looks that the nurses are giving him, “All of this, just to get my attention?”
“You’re so full of yourself.”
“And you know what you’re gonna be full of if we don’t get that appendix out? Pus.”
“Ugh,” You wrinkle your nose, closing your eyes, “Stop.”
“Better pus than Darth Vader, though.”
You laugh again, and the pain swells, worse.
“Please stop making me laugh, it hurts,” You whimper, and he mutters, “Alright, alright,” as the elevator chimes. You pull in as deep a breath as you can, the full weight of panic weighing down your chest. You swallow roughly, mumble, “John?”
“Yeah?”
“Make sure they give me the good stuff.” When you open your eyes, take in the sweep of lights haloing him as you’re guided down another hall, you find him smiling softly.
“For you? The best,” He promises. “I’ll tell them to check on your funny bone while they’re in there.”
Your laugh turns to a muted sob, the sound half-stuck in your thickening throat as tears spill over. But he’s reaching out before one can slip to the gurney below, swiping it away.
“I’m scared,” You whisper.
“I know. But it’s gonna be okay.”
--
“I like him.”
It was the last thing you expected to come out of Lilah’s mouth. You’d already known that she was miffed at you for taking so long to introduce you to John, doubly so when she found out that Lisa had met him nearly two weeks before she had (that had been an accident, though—Lisa had come home early from what was meant to be a romantic trip with her latest boyfriend, but had crashed and burned into a fight when she found out she was the other woman).
You didn’t answer, just watched Lilah from your end of the couch as she picked her nails. When she glanced toward you, she scoffed, “What?”
“I’m waiting.”
“For?”
“The punchline.”
Lilah rolled her eyes. “No punchline. I like him.”
Your brows rose at the insistence. “That’s a first.”
“Well,” She sighed, pushing herself up, “All of your other boyfriends sucked. I’m gonna raid your fridge now.”
You watched her go, processing for a moment before you followed. “What do you mean, all of my other boyfriends sucked?”
Lilah shrugged, eyes set on the inside of your fridge, scanning the shelves lazily.
“Just what I said.”
“They were all nice guys.”
“No, they were all assholes.”
You scoffed, “They were not all assholes.”
“Fine. They were mostly dickheads, with one or two of them crossing firmly into asshole territory.”
“They were all accomplished.”
“Yeah,” Lilah laughed derisively, “Especially that dude that got nailed for insider trading. How’s his prison sentence going by the way?”
You folded your arms tightly across your chest. “He was only fined and you know it.”
“Right, right.”
“Would you close the fridge door if you’re not gonna take anything? You’re letting all the cold out.”
Lilah raised her hands in surrender, allowing the door to slowly swing shut before she turned to your cabinet.
“As I was saying,” You added, “They were not all dickheads. I prefer to surround myself with ambitious people, and they can be…Difficult.”
“If by ambitious you mean rich, then yeah, you’re usually all over ‘em.”
“That is not what I mean—”
“Hedge fund managers, healthtech douchebros, morons who insist that they’re practically liquid when their entire net worth is in crypto.”
“That was one guy!”
“You know why I like John?” Lilah leaned back to face you, bag of chips in hand. “Cause it’s like you’re not dating with mom and dad in mind for once.”
It was like a slap. It rendered you completely speechless, sending heat creeping across your face, down your neck. And you couldn’t tell if Lilah knew the effect the comment had, but she pushed on:
“John’s ambitious, sure, he’s a doctor, but he’s also, like, genuinely a nice dude, you know. And you’re not trying to be perfect for him the way that you usually do for your dates, or for mom and dad. You’re not preening or constantly fixing your hair or checking your posture with him. You’re just, like…You. It’s good. Kinda freaky, but good.” She popped a couple of chips in her mouth, chewing slowly as you both mulled that over.
“Anyway,” She shrugged, pushing off of the counter, “Only a matter of time before you fuck it up, so. Enjoy it while it lasts.”
You rolled your eyes, following her back into the living room. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, bean.”
“Anytime, generalissimo.”
--
Coming to is slow, and uncomfortable. You’re propped up in bed, the room is bright, even with your eyes closed, and the beeping monitor beside you is starting to get annoying—but can you really begrudge something that reminds you that you’re alive?
You open your eyes, wincing into the light and allowing your vision to adjust. You can see a duffel bag on the chairs across from you, spot coats laying over the back of those same chairs. And when you let yourself glance around, you find someone at your bedside.
John is seated, folded over your bed with his head pillowed on his arms. His eyes are closed, and he’s breathing steadily. You can’t tell if it’s light outside with the shades closed, so you reach your IV-laden hand out, tapping on the face of the smart watch you got him a couple of Christmases ago. The screen flashes, but not in time for you to get a good look. You’re about to tap again, but—
“Are you snooping through my messages?”
Groggy, soft, warm—there’s that sleep-roughened voice you’ve missed so much. You smile a little.
“No. Trying to see what time it is.”
“Mm,” John pushes himself to sit up and proffers his wrist, scrubbing his free hand across his eyes as you get a better look. Nearly half past eight.
“Maybe a silly question, but is it AM or PM?”
“AM,” He chuckles, lowering his wrist.
“Shouldn’t you be home?” You ask. But before he can answer, the door to your hospital room opens, and Lisa and Lilah are trailing in with cups of coffee in hand.
“You’re up!” Lisa screeches, hurrying forward so quickly that some coffee sloshes over the side of the little paper cup. Lilah’s joining her a moment later, crowding in against you with leans, hugs, and carefully placed hands. You begin to reach for them with both arms, but wince when your IV pulls slightly. Lisa steps back, allowing Lilah to lean into you more closely.
“Did you grab my phone?” You ask, “And did you call…You know?”
“We didn’t,” Lisa winces, “We weren’t sure—”
“No, no. You did the right thing,” You soothe before glancing at Lilah. Her smile is watery, thin, and she seems to be opening her mouth to start to say something, but you have to ask:
“Did you bring my work laptop?”
That watery thin smile is gone in a second, mouth flat. Her eyes seem to glaze over, hands drawing back and curling into fists at her sides.
“I—No.”
“Lilah,” You groan, “That was, like, the one thing I asked you to bring—”
You barely get it out before she’s stomping out of your hospital room, Lisa hot on her heels, swearing, “I’ll get her.”
You close your eyes, sinking back in your bed. “Shit.”
“You shouldn’t be working right now, anyway,” John warns. You peek one eye open, frowning as he rounds the bed, pouring water from a pitcher on the bedside table. “Here.”
You take the cup carefully, though John keeps a loose grasp on it as you take a sip. He sets it aside once you’re finished, offering, “You want some more?”
“Nn-nn,” You shake your head. You perk up as the door opens again, but Lilah’s sweeping in and grabbing her coat without looking at you.
“Bean, I’m sorry—Hey!” You call out as she turns away again, “I’m not mad at you!” But your protests seem to fall on deaf ears as she rounds back into the hall. You close your eyes, tipping your head back against the pillows. “Great.”
“You want me to go get her?”
“No. Lisa’s gonna try to do that, anyway. And when she’s pissed at me, Lilah needs time to just…Decompress. Trust me,” You huff a laugh, “I’ve pissed her off a lot.” You tip your head to the side, wiggling your fingers toward his hand. And you expect him to just take it and hold on, but John is climbing into bed with you, carefully nestling against you. You sigh softly, turning your head and nuzzling against his neck. Neither of you speak for a few moments, the room falling into quiet, save for the beep of the monitor beside your bed.
“...Shouldn’t you be home?” You finally ask again.
“Mm…You want me to go?”
“No.”
“Then I’m right where I should be.”
And it’s so gentle, and firm, and certain. Your eyes well with tears again, and you try to squeeze tight against them, to hold them back, but they’re slipping before you can stop them. John doesn’t tut, tell you that it’s alright, that you’re okay. He just cuddles closer, intertwining your fingers.
“When I’m, um,” You sniffle, “When I’m less of a mess, can you explain what happened? Like, properly?”
“Using all of my big brain and science-y knowledge? Sure I can. Dr. Garcia will probably come to speak with you, too.”
“Did they do the surgery?”
“No, Dr. Walsh did. Case got handed over to the day shift, though.”
“Oh.”
“...So next time you want my attention, I’m thinking a kidney stone could be the way to go.” He keeps on over your quiet giggles—“Getting rid of those is way more fun than an appendix. Hey, when’s the last time you were on a roller coaster?”
--
It’s nearly ten by the time John is leaving your room with a kiss on the forehead and a promise to check in with you over the next couple of days. Lisa is back, but the two of you are speaking little. She won’t tell you where Lilah is, or what she said when she stormed out. You fall asleep around noon.
When you wake up around two, your work laptop is sitting on top of your duffel bag, and Lilah is nowhere to be seen.
--
You can’t remember the last time Lisa played nurse maid to you like this. You try to think of it, but you’re coming up with…Well, never. On the odd occasion you’ve gotten sick, you’ve always managed it yourself—but this isn’t just getting sick.
You can get around on your own, but it’s not the most comfortable. Lisa emails her professors, lets them know what happened, gets a pass to skip a couple of her classes so that she can stay at home and look after you for a couple of days. She helps you clean and change your wound dressing so that you don’t have to twist, or look at the little laparoscopic scars any more than you have to. She even offers to help you inject the prescribed blood thinner, but you insist on doing that yourself. It’s a way of taking back just a little bit of control after you’ve spent so much of the last 72 hours feeling helpless.
Besides, you’re usually the one doing the minding, so being minded makes you feel unbalanced.
Your manager gives you the week off to heal, tells you not to worry about the presentations and reports, commends you for the work that you were able to get done, and insists that if she sees your status active on your laptop, she’s going to have IT lock you out.
You try texting Lilah a few times, and she doesn’t answer, save to react or send lone emojis. You don’t try to call, or FaceTime. You’re not sure where you’d start if you did.
So when Lisa tells you the next day that Lilah’s at the apartment, and that she’s sitting on your unit’s balcony, it’s sort of a relief.
--
You know those things are bad for you.
It sits on your tongue, but you hold it there. The fact that Lilah is there at all is a boon, so you do your best to pointedly ignore the smoke curling from the end of her cigarette.
“I thought you were gonna die, you know?”
It cracks the air open, splits you down the middle, but Lilah doesn’t stop there:
“I’d never seen you like that. My superhero of a sister, on the floor, just…Laid out. When Lisa was getting into the ambulance with you and I stayed to grab some stuff like you asked, I was just like, on autopilot. Clothes, medication, phone, keys. The important shit, you know? And then I got to the wrong hospital and Lisa called, and I was like ‘well, shit. I’m not gonna get to say goodbye.’ And then you were in surgery, and then you were out, and then you woke up,” Her voice lilts with a hysterical little laugh, “And your first question was where your fucking work laptop was, and that was when I remembered that you asked for it. And I was like ‘well fuck. I fucked up again.’” Lilah quiets as she takes another drag from the cigarette, but for all the comments buzzing against your lips, you wait.
“You know what I think?” She exhales, “What this was? God or the universe, or fucking whatever—it’s telling you to slow down.” She turns her head to look at you finally, bloodshot gaze pinning you in place. “Because your first question coming out of major surgery should be what happened, how long was I out, what are the next steps, not where your fucking work laptop is—”
“I know.”
“Like that’s psychotic. And the worst part is you can’t even blame the meds, like, you’re just like that.”
“I know.” You pull in a deep breath, just managing not to wrinkle your nose at the scent of smoke. “I’m sorry, bean. I shouldn’t have said that—and you’re right, I can’t even blame the anesthesia.” You shift your seat a little closer, nudging her knee with yours. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“...Well, you didn’t. Your bitch-ass appendix did.”
You snort, looping your arm around Lilah’s shoulders and drawing her in.
“I love you, bean.”
Lilah sniffles as she huddles closer, tucking her head beneath your chin.
“I love you, too, generalissimo.”
--
“Saw Lilah on the way in.”
“Yeah?” You sit against the mountain of pillows still against your headboard, watch John unpack a few things from his bag onto your bed—gloves, gauze, tape, small scissors, alcohol wipes.
“Everything okay?”
“...Fine,” You concede, “She just has a shitty sister.”
You can feel John glancing toward you as you carefully wriggle out of your loose shirt, leaving you in a sports bra.
“Okay, let’s see what we have here.”
You hold carefully still as John peels back your wound dressing, leaning in to get a better look at the scars.
“How’s the pain been?”
“Fine, I guess. The gas pain in my shoulders sucks, though.”
“Yeah, that’s from the CO2 they use to inflate the abdominal cavity.”
“Hate the use of ‘cavity’ there.”
John’s lips quirk with a smile. “Wounds look good, no irritation or excessive redness.”
“Lisa’s been a very good nurse.”
“Mm.” John opens an alcohol wipe, carefully cleaning your wounds. “Has it been itchy at all?”
“Not really.”
“Good…A heating pad should help with those gas pains, by the way.”
“Okay.”
The two of you go quiet as he rebandages your wounds, then straightens.
“No fever, chills?”
“Nn-nn.”
“Appetite’s back?”
“Mostly.”
“Good.” John sits on the edge of the bed, removing his gloves and dropping the old dressing and alcohol wipe into the (now cleaned) bin by your bed. “When we were in the hospital, Lisa said you were sick all day. Why’d you wait so long to come in?”
“Just…” You shrug. “I thought it was my period.”
“Your cramps are that bad?”
“They can be.”
“Yeesh,” He mutters, tucking a few supplies into his bag. “When are you due back for your check-up, remind me?”
“Friday.”
“Okay.”
The two of you fall into quiet, and when you reach out for John’s hand, he slips it warmly into yours.
“...What’d your parents say?”
You focus on the press of his palm, trace the length of a vein on the back of his hand.
“I haven’t told them yet.” Your eyes flicker to his incredulous frown, and you shake your head. “It’s kinda too late now. I mean—I’ll tell them eventually. At this point they’ll just be upset that they weren’t invited.”
“Invited?” He scoffs. “It wasn’t a birthday party.”
“You know what I mean. I should’ve told them when I was on my way to the hospital, but I didn’t, and neither did the girls, so…Now this gets to be that funny story I tell them on New Year’s Eve in two year’s time, when they’re good and buzzed and less likely to get mad at me for not telling them right when it happened.”
“Sounds like you already have it all planned out.”
“I like a plan, remember?”
John smiles, thumb sweeping across the soft of your wrist. “I remember.” It’s a moment before he hedges: “Remind me, is that why we broke up? Not enough plans?”
You sigh softly, eyes dropping to your hands. “That was some of it. Other times, I just…I felt like you were making jokes of everything, all the time, or not taking things seriously. But honestly, after the whole,” You wave toward your abdomen, “You know, how chaotic it was, how scary…I kinda get it now. Why you’re so level.”
“...Doesn’t mean I should be doing it all the time. I’m sorry if I made you feel like we couldn’t just have a serious conversation.”
You smile. “I’m sorry I was so rigid. I should’ve been more understanding.”
“Hindsight’s 20/20, huh?”
“Famously.”
John gives your hand a little squeeze. “I should let you rest.”
“Okay…Can I selfishly say that I don’t want you to leave yet?”
“Yes,” He chuckles. “Tell you what. I’ll stick around for a bit, keep close. Make sure you don’t roll over in your sleep.”
“Oh yeah? You do that for all your patients, Dr. Shen?”
“Oh, all of them.”
“You really know how to make a girl feel spesh.”
John chuckles, nudging off the house shoes he’d worn inside and climbing into bed beside you, resting his hand on your hip. You tipped your head against him, relaxing into the warmth of his body as you had just a few days ago.
“Would it be selfish of me to say that I missed you a lot?” You mumbled.
“There’s that word again.”
“Hmm?”
“Selfish.” You feel John tip his head toward you. “Wanting things isn’t selfish. Neither is feeling things.”
You gnaw on your lower lip, letting your gaze drop back to his chest. He smoothes his hand over your hair, drawing you carefully closer.
“Tell you what,” He murmurs, “We’re gonna talk about this later—for now, you need your rest.”
“When are we gonna talk about it?”
“This weekend.”
“Oh?”
“Mhm. You’re gonna get clearance from Walsh to resume normal food and activity on Friday, we’re gonna get coffee and go for a nice, easy walk on Saturday—”
“I see—”
“And we’re gonna clear up all this selfish talk.”
“And then what?”
“Oh, just you wait.”
“Do I get a hint?”
John tips his head down toward you, lips brushing your forehead.
“You thought that first go-around was something? I’m gonna date the crap out of you.”
You smile. “I’d rather our dating not have anything to do with crap.”
Collection of My Works for Characters from The Pitt, including: Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch, Jack Abbot, Brendon 'Shark' Park, Dennis Whitaker, Mateo Diaz, Jesse Van Horn, John Shen & Frank Langdon 💗
Ranging from one shots to series. Happy Reading!
Main Masterlist Here!
MICHAEL 'ROBBY' ROBINAVITCH 🩺
Rinse & Repeat Series Masterlist Here
The Pitt x Reader x Batfam, Dr Robby x Wayne!Reader
The reader is the sister of Bruce Wayne, she works in the ER, wading through the slough of patients. But maybe she finds a little bit of balance in the form of her attending. The catch is, no one at the Pitt knows who she really is? how long will that last? (It's been really special and fun to write this ✨personal favourite of mine!) 🌟(Completed 💖 )
Find my collection of stories for Michael 'Robby' Robinavitch here!
JACK ABBOT 💚
Find my collection of stories for Jack Abbot here!
BRENDON PARK : 'THE SHARK' 🦈
Find my collection of stories for Brendon Park here!
DENNIS WHITAKER 🌾
Find my collection of stories for Dennis Whitaker here!
JESSE VAN HORN
I Owe You One: Jesse Van Horn x Neighbour!Reader, Domaystic 2026, Day 23: Stuck Lock. Found leant against your door. Stuck in despair. Jesse offers you to come inside his apartment. Turns out you really shouldn't have tried to avoid him for so long. As just maybe he has a sweet spot for you too.
SHIVER COLLECTION: Fics ft.Park The Shark's Sister 🦈
*Shiver: A collective term for a group of sharks swimming or congregating together
Jaws: Dennis Whitaker x Paramedic!Reader, You were bold. Blunt. You spoke your mind. And you had made Dennis absolutely smitten for you. Falling steadily until you ask him out. There was just one thing you never told him...you're the sister of PTMC's Shark. All of that comes to the forefront as you're caught in the crossfires of a violent patient.
Natural Habitat: Dr Robby x Attending!Reader, Quick witted, level headed and calm. Your favourite past times include; loving your husband (and making sure everyone was aware of this), making people laugh and of course, relentlessly teasing PTMC's Shark until he cracks a smile.
Before You Ask...It Was A Shark: Jack Abbot x Firefighter!Reader. Jack could be relentless when it came to stirring up trouble. Especially when it came to poking a little fun at PTMC's Shark. What no one could quite understand was why? Or how Jack managed to get away with it. Not until you, Jack's fearless firefighter of a wife, comes rushing into the ER. Turns out your presence worries more than just Jack. (personal favourite of mine!) 🌟
-> Surviving The Shark: (Before You Ask...It Was A Shark Part 2) What's a girl gotta do to entertain herself when her leg's broken? Forced to be benched for the next few months. Until an idea sparks. One that leads you to hang out in PTMC's ER. Under the ruse that you're simply bringing in some food for some of Pittsburgh's hardest workers...When really, you're just there to gossip.
Tricky Fish: Mateo Diaz x Radiology Tech!Reader. You were cool. Calm. Collected. The night shift's very own Shark, as you strolled through the ED. You had also become the fascination of a certain nurse. Mateo tried his very hardest to make you crack. Until eventually you smiled. Your cool facade shifting ever so slightly. Before shifting into something a little more... But not everything can be that simple - not when Park the Shark was your brother.
Just Keep Swimming: Jesse Van Horn x Paediatrician!Reader, You and Brendon Park could be deemed as two sides of the same coin. Day and night between you two. And yet. So very similar. This was a well known fact amongst those at PTMC. What wasn't quite as well known. Was that you. Were in fact the long time sweetheart of one Jesse Van Horn...All of which is brought out into the open as he comes in with his sick daughter, and his son clasping his hand.
Nocturnal: John Shen x Reader, You and John were quite a pair. Deadpanned and unserious. A rhythm developed after years of friendship, deepened once you'd fallen in love. Both with a love for iced caramel macchiatos. Everyone thought they knew all there was to know about you both...Turned out they were mistaken, as a rolled ankle leads to a new revelation…
Pup: Frank Langdon x Reader, The age old question. Cat vs Dog. Comes to haunt your household. You want a cat, while Frank is advocating for a dog. Despite both of your gnarly work schedules. And so the conversation bleeds into your work life...Thankfully for you. You've got a pretty intimidating brother on your side. You're just lucky Brendon only scared Frank into getting a cat, and not away from you...
-> Support Team Reporting For Duty: (Pup Part 2) Sometimes it's difficult to acknowledge when you need to rest. Especially when you're a stubborn nurse, used to taking care of others. Thankfully you have a caring husband who simply wants the best for you...Only for you to get worse. Resulting in a rush to the ED. And when you need it most. Your husband and brother are there by your side in a flash.
BOUQUET OF LOVE STORIES 💐: Fics ft. Floral Themes
IN PROGRESS...“Love is like wildflowers; it's often found in the most unlikely places" Ralph Waldo Emerson
Amaryllis: Brendon Park x Florist!Reader, Amaryllis: Symbolises pride, determination, radiant beauty, and unwavering love. The department learns that Park the Shark is enamoured and so deeply in love with the very florist that's wheeled into the ER in need of stitches...They also learn that she's his wife. ⭐️
Hyacinth: Jack Abbot x Florist!Reader, Hyacinth: Depending on the colour it can symbolise deep sorrow, sincerity, constancy, peace and unwavering loyalty. But it can also symbolise new beginnings. Jack is a man of routine. And one of those routines. Is consistently buying bouquets of flowers on those anniversaries he left unspoken. There he meets you. He decides to do something about his feelings. And what better way to do so, then use your love language. Flowers.
Cotton Blooms: Dennis Whitaker x Florist!Reader, Fire Lily: symbolises resilience and passion. But in the Victorian age it was strongly associated with hatred and burning anger. Dennis is overall...happy. But there's a sense of- Loneliness he supposes. A longing to share his life with someone, to go through the highs and lows with someone by his side... And just perhaps. That someone is you.
-> Where The Wildflowers Grow: (Cotton Blooms Part 2) Cotton: symbolises fortune, give and take, gratitude, receiving of a blessing, cherish, and well-being. Dennis finally wills himself to ask you out-It just so happens you beat him to it... A tender relationship blossoms between you both...Dennis just might've forgotten to tell his friends and coworkers about this new development in his personal life. And Santos has a few things to say about that...
Tulips: Jesse Van Horn x Florist!Reader, Tulip: can vary depending on colour but they symbolise deep emotional bonds, honouring cherished relationships. Embodying resilience and strength in the face of adversity. A reminder of life's fleeting beauty. Flowerchild. A frequent flyer of the ER. No one really questioned it. It was still unusual to see you carted into the ER via ambulance. This impromptu visit leads to a few new secrets to be revealed. Such as the fact that you're married to one of their very own nurses...
Sunflowers: John Shen x Florist!Cafe Owner!Reader, Sunflower: symbolises adoration, longevity, happiness, resilience and strength. Who knew? That all it would take for you and John to come together, would be a closed Dunkin' Donuts and an unusual Macchiato flavouring...Something you wouldn't change for a single moment. With a demeanour as endearing and friendly as the Sunny yellow flowers painted on your store front. He couldn't help but fall in love. And you couldn't help but do the same...
Gardenias In Bloom 💐: Dr Robby x Wife!Paediatrician!Reader. (Paging Dr Daisy Part 3) Inspired by The Pretender by Lewis Capaldi Gardenias and Daisies: symbolises purity, innocence, trust and hope. Lavender and Chamomile; symbolises calmness and serenity. A collection of four woven little bracelets. A little misshapen, a little imperfect. But so very thoughtfully crafted. A charm upon each. A promise of love, of trust.
Reblogs, comments and likes on my fics are really appreciated 🥰
And if there's something you'd like to see written for any of these characters feel free to send me a request with the character and idea in mind (I can't guarantee I'd do them all, but it never hurts to try 🤷♀️) 💗
(It is honestly one of the purest joys knowing that people like and enjoy my random little writings and stories 💕 Thank you!) I have cross posted some/most of these fics to my ao3 (RedSakura101) (Mainly the series)
sorry if anything feels a little OOC or whatever...it's just me and my delulu brain working out whatever I've got rolling around in my mind 😮💨
Taglists are open for most of these so feel free to let me know if you'd like to be tagged 😊 whether it's character specific or series specific
Please do not post or translate this elsewhere under the guise that it is your own work.
*All images used in my work in the headers are sourced from Pinterest. Dividers are from @saradika-graphics (who has an amazing of collection to choose from!) I don't post NSFW content in my works fyi.
John shen spouses, since no one never ask him about his love situation they didnt know that hes married, until a very pregnant woman with a tote bag show up in the er asking about john shen
pairing: dr. john shen x f!reader | rating: mature. mdni | wc: 400 | so much fluff
warnings: none, really.
a/n: babe, i really hope you like this one because i don’t really go here on the pregnant trope and i did my best. sorry if it seems a bit awkward! 🤍 (but i do think the moodboard itself is very aesthetically pleasing lol)
jack is in the middle of going through the instructions of how they are going to tackle triage this shift with chantana and mateo, when a very pregnant lady interrupts them.
“hi! umm, could i speak with dr. shen?” you ask.
“i’m dr. jack abbot, sweetheart. dr. shen is attending a trauma right now, how can i help you?”
your smile grows when you realise who you are talking to. you give him your name and continue. “john’s wife. it’s really nice to meet you, dr. abbot.”
“wife?!” jack asks shocked, points the buzzer to chantana, silently asking the receptionist to open the door for you. both her and mateo have surprised expressions on their young faces.
“come here, sweetheart.” he gets the tote bag from your hands, directing you to a free seat on the central hub. “john never mentioned he’s married. let alone a father to be.”
you laugh. “typical john. if he didn’t basically worship the ground i walk on, i would think he was ashamed of me or something.”
jack shakes his head. “are you ok? do you need anything?”
“oh, i’m fine. i know i look like i’m about to burst but there’s still a month and a half to go.” you point to the tote bag. “i’m trying to get john to slow down on the caffeine, but he forgot the lunch i made so i thought ‘why not bring it to him?’”
jack was about to ask you how long you have been together when parker greets you.
“hey, sunshine!” she says as she makes her way out of trauma two, with john right behind her.
“hi, p! haven’t seen you in a while!”
john recognises your voices, sprints past parker to meet you.
“baby, are you ok? are you hurt? is it time?” shen’s hands are all over you as he asks all at once, so fast that you can’t barely understand what he is saying.
it makes you laugh. “i’m fine, handsome. you forgot your lunch and i wanted to bring it to you.”
beside you, jack is nudging parker. “you knew he was married?!”
“only met her because sunshine came to pick him up after a shift, like six months ago.”
“why didn’t you tell us you were married, dude? and that you are expecting?!” jack asks your husband, with the most hurt voice possible.
john shrugs. “you never asked.”
domesticblisss 2026. comments and reblogs are appreciated. dividers by @/uzmacchiato
