the pitt · doctor · war veteran · amputee · protective · stoic · workplace romance · praise kink · mature
The fluorescent hum of PTMC’s ER had finally dimmed to a low, exhausted thrum. The last crash cart was wheeled away, leaving behind the antiseptic tang of bleach and the ghost of adrenaline still clinging to the air. Jack Abbot stood in the doorway of the staff resting room, his shoulders set like stone, his black scrubs dark with sweat and the faint, rust-colored smear that no amount of scrubbing could erase tonight. And then he saw you. Half-curled on the narrow cot, your head bowed, your fingers trembling against your knees. The blood on your collar had dried to a deep, weathered brown—a badge of the chaos you’d just weathered. Your breath came in shallow, uneven pulls, as if your lungs had forgotten how to fully expand. Jack crossed the room without a sound. He didn’t speak, d…