I write for Riverdale, Pretty Little Liars, Grey's Anatomy, 9-1-1, All American, All American: Homecoming, Julie and the Phantoms, On My Block, Ginny and Georgia, First Kill, Pretty Little Liars: Original Sin, Bridgerton, 9-1-1 Lone Star, etc
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Summary: You’re a new ED doctor who wears a fake wedding ring to keep patients from flirting, but your observant colleague Jack notices and wants more.
A/N: Sorry for the lack of posts, I've been sick. This work is all mine, and proofread by Grammarly.
Masterlist
No two days in the emergency department were ever the same.
Some nights were quiet, with only a couple of patients coming in with fevers or coughs. Other nights were utterly chaotic, ambulances rolling in back-to-back, alarms blaring, doctors and nurses moving like a storm through the hallways.
But one thing never seemed to change: the patients who thought the emergency department was the perfect place to find a date.
You learned that lesson after just a week of working in the ED.
It didn’t matter if someone had a broken arm or had suffered a heart attack; some men still found the energy to wink, grin, or make comments that made your skin crawl while you were trying to work. Sometimes it was harmless. Most of the time, it wasn’t. And there was no running away when you were their doctor.
So you developed a plan.
When you transferred to PTMC and started working the night shift, the solution became routine. You weren’t married. But a simple ring on your finger changed everything.
It wasn’t flashy, just a simple silver brand that lived on your left hand whenever you had to work a shift. Most people assumed it was a wedding ring from a happy marriage, and you let them think that. In reality, it had cost ten dollars from an online store.
But it worked.
Some patients would never see you as their doctor, someone who had spent years in med school at the top of their class. Instead, they only saw a pretty woman standing close enough to flirt with.
However, when was there a ring on your finger? Suddenly, you were someone’s wife.
So the comments stopped. The winks. The “you got a boyfriend?” question. Everything disappeared. Apparently, being someone’s wife made you off-limits in a way that simply saying no never did. Like you were someone else’s property, it made them hesitate. Stupid, but the logic worked, so the ring stayed.
If any of your new co-workers noticed it, they never mentioned it or just assumed the obvious. Except Jack.
Jack Abbot noticed everything around him.
It was a habit from years as an army medic and now attending in one of the busiest emergency departments in the city. Jack didn’t just see charts and symptoms. He saw the small things, the way someone held their shoulder, the slight limp in their step, the tremor in their hand.
And he noticed your ring. Not only because he was staring, but also because it was always there. You had a habit of twisting it when charting. It tapped against the counter when you were thinking. It left a bump under your gloves. It was a small detail, but Jack’s brain catalogued it anyway.
You were still new, and the few details that Jack knew about you had him intrigued: married, new to the hospital and worked well under pressure. And then there was something else he couldn't quite place, the pull he felt towards you.
This night shift had started like any other, chaos in bursts but slowed at times. You were tucked into your usual rhythm, moving between patients, checking vitals and charting.
It wasn’t until the trauma phone went off that it paused your movements.
“Level two trauma, motor vehicle collision," Lena shouted as she answered the call. “Five minutes out.”
Your adrenaline spiked, and Jack was already moving, tablet in one hand, gloves snapping as he prepped for the incoming patient. You were paired on this trauma together, moving almost instinctively as a team.
The patient arrived bloodied, unconscious, and chest rattling with each forced breath. You slid the IV line into the patient’s arm while Jack called out instructions for the rest of the team.
Jack’s eyes were everywhere at once, vitals, monitors, and the team's movement, but his gaze happened to flick across your hand. And that's when he noticed. Your ring. It wasn’t there.
A small detail that others would have overlooked, but made him pause for a fraction of a second. A movement he couldn't afford in a place like this. He didn’t realize until now how much he had noticed it, how automatic it was to look at you during shifts and see that silver band wrapped around your finger. Tonight, it was nowhere to be found.
Jack quickly turned his focus back on the patient, but the details lingered in his mind.
Minutes passed in a blur of intubation, transfusion, chest compressions, and desperate interventions. Despite the skill and precision of the team, the injuries were too severe.
The patient coded. The monitor went flat. Time of death was announced.
You stepped back, heart sinking, and Jack’s hand went to your shoulder, not to blame, but to ground you as the weight of loss pressed down on the team. Sometimes, despite doing everything right, it wasn’t enough.
By the end of the shift, the ED was quieter than usual. The hum of machines, the footsteps of staff cleaning up, and the weight of loss hung heavy in the air. Jack glanced at you while filling the final chart, noticing that your finger remained bare.
“Are you going out too?” He asked. Shen had suggested that everyone go out for a drink to cope, and no one seemed to argue.
“Yeah… I could really use a drink.” Your hands hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly.
Jack’s gaze lingered on you, a mixture of concern and something softer, harder to define. “Yeah… me too,” he muttered. The unspoken weight between you decided for you.
There was a bar a few blocks down from the hospital where everyone gathered after shifts. It was louder than usual for a weekday, the low thrum of music and conversation filling up the air. It had discounted drinks and dim lighting, a place where no one asked the doctors or nurses what had just happened when it looked like they had been through hell.
Jack was sitting in a booth near the back with John, nursing a half-finished beer. His scrubs had been swapped for a dark jacket, but exhaustion still lined his face.
John exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. “Hell of a shift.”
Jack nodded once, staring at the condensation on his bottle. “Yeah.” Silence followed, heavy but not awkward. The burden of the night weighed on him.
His eyes drifted across the bar and landed on you. You were on a stool near the counter, chatting with one of the nurses, a drink in hand. Your laugh was softer than usual, slower, the kind that came from alcohol loosening the edges of the hard night.
His gaze dropped to your hand once again.
Still no ring.
“Hey,” John said, standing and grabbing his empty bottle. “I’m getting another. Want one?”
Jack lifted his bottle slightly. “I’m good.”
John nodded and disappeared into the crowd.
Jack leaned back in the booth, letting his eyes wander again. They found you on your way over, movement slightly unsteady, yet deliberate.
“Hey, Doc,” you muttered, sliding into the seat across from him, sighing softly as your forearms rested on the table.
“You okay?” he asked immediately. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to see his coworkers like this after a shift, but he still wondered if this was normal for you.
You huffed out a small laugh that didn’t sound very amused. “Define okay.”
Jack didn’t answer right away. Instead, he studied you, the tired eyes, the way your shoulders slumped, the weight of the night still sitting on you.
“Rough one,” he said finally.
Your gaze dropped to the table. “Yeah.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The noise of the bar filled the silence.
“I kinda like this part,” you admitted quietly.
Jack tilted his head slightly. “The bar?”
You shrugged, tracing the rim of your glass with your finger. “Yeah… not why we’re here, exactly. But the team gets together. Feels… lighter. Less like you’re carrying it alone.”
He softened. He’d seen too many new doctors burn out trying to carry everything. He understood.
“At my last hospital,” you continued, your voice a little looser from the alcohol. “Everyone just… went home. Pretended nothing happened. But here you guys carry the wins and the losses together.”
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It helps.”
You nodded, shoulders relaxing slightly as you took another sip. Even in your tiredness, there was a warmth to you now.
For a second, Jack just studied you again. The way the tension slowly left your posture. The way you still looked tired but lighter now that the shift was behind you.
Then his eyes drifted back down to your hand. Bare,
He hesitated before speaking. “So… everything alright at home?”
You blinked up at him. “At home?”
Jack nodded subtly toward your hand. “You usually wear a ring.”
You stared at him, surprised. Then laughed, soft, tipsy, a little embarrassed. “Oh my god… alright, I’ll let you in on a secret.”
Jack’s brow lifted.
“What?”
You held up your hand, wiggling your fingers slightly.
“It’s fake,” You leaned back in the booth a little, clearly amused.
“…Your ring is fake?”
You nodded, taking another sip of your drink before explaining. “Patients, some of them get… handys. Especially at night. You say no, you ignore them, but it doesn't always work.”
Jack’s jaw tightened slightly. Yeah. He’d seen that.
“So I bought a ring,” you continued, tapping your bare finger. “Ten dollars online. Suddenly, I’m someone’s wife. The flirting stops. It’s like magic. Stupid, but it works.”
Jack studied you quietly for a moment. It wasn’t the confession itself that caught his attention; it was the way you said it so casually, as you’d simply adapted to the world instead of letting it push you out of a job you clearly loved.
“That’s… actually pretty clever,” he admitted.
You grinned. “Right?”
Jack’s gaze lingered, softer now. “So the husband doesn’t exist.”
“Nope.”
Jack smiled into his drink, a warmth threading through him. Somehow, hearing this made him admire you more.
“Well,” he said casually, taking another sip of his beer, “if you’re going to invent a husband…”
You raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by where this was going.
“…you should at least give the guy a decent name.”
You laughed softly. “Oh yeah?” you asked. “What would you name him then?”
Jack pretended to think about it for a moment, leaning back in the booth.
“Hm.”
Your eyes narrowed playfully. His gaze met yours, something teasing sparking there.
“Jack,” he said.
You blinked.
“Jack?”
He shrugged lightly, a small grin forming.
“Sounds reasonable.”
You stared at him for a second before laughing, the sound warmer this time.
“Wow,” you said. “That’s bold.”
Jack lifted his bottle slightly, clearly enjoying himself now.
“Just saying,” he replied. “If you’re going to make up a fake husband, you might as well pick a good one.”
You shook your head, still smiling into your drink.
“Careful, Abbot,” you said lightly. “People might start to think you’re volunteering.”
Jack’s eyes stayed on you a moment longer than necessary.
“Would that be so bad?” he asked quietly.
The question hung between you for a beat before the noise of the bar swallowed it again.
The next shift felt strangely normal after the night before.
Did you drunkenly flirt with a fellow attending? Yes, but did you regret it? Nope.
The ED hummed with its usual controlled chaos; it almost felt strange that the world kept moving after a shift like that. You were currently charting at the nurses’ station, twisting the silver band on your finger without really thinking about it.
“Nice to see your husband’s back.”
You looked up. Jack was leaning against the counter across from you, tablet tucked under his arm, the corner of his mouth curved in that quiet, knowing smile.
“Oh my god,” you laughed, shaking your head. “Are you really going to start with that today?”
“Of course,” he said, a small, confident grin tugging at his lips. “I’m hoping to get an audition to play him.”
You blinked at him, half amused, half exasperated.
“What?” you said, lifting an eyebrow.
“If you’re going to invent a husband,” he continued, voice low and teasing, “someone has to audition for the role. And I think I’d be perfect.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculous, maybe,” he admitted, “ but if I'm going to audition for the role properly.. I should probably take my lovely wife out… maybe for dinner or coffee sometime. To make sure I'm playing the part right.”
You blinked, caught off guard by the smoothness of it. “Jack Abbot, are you asking me out on a date?
Jack’s grin widened, confident but teasing. “Call it a test run. Coffee after shift, and I can show you my best husband skills.”
You felt a blush creep up your neck and laughed softly, shaking your head. “I… Yes, that sounds perfect.”
“Good, I’ll see you later, wifey.” With that, Jack left the nurses' station, heading into a patient room.
Your chest tightened, heart beating faster. Somehow, the chaos of the ED and the fake ring felt far away. Jack Abbot had made something pretend feel achingly real.
If my mother dies, please remember that this cry for help was seen and ignored.
Her condition is getting worse with every passing minute, and we are running out of time.
Just $10 from 50 people could give her another chance to live.
I’m begging you… don’t scroll past our pain as if it means nothing.
A small donation or even sharing this post could reach someone able to save her life.
Please donate to this family if you have any means to at all, anything you can give will make an impact and is absolutely worth it even if you can only afford to contribute a small amount, and be sure to reblog this post using tags so it can be seen by more people and donations can keep coming in consistently!
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Subject : collecting money for my father's emergency operation in his head
Current process :
USD 1,313 / $2,513
Vetted by @sar-soor
Vetted by @opencommunion
Vetted by @el-shab-hussein
I am raising funds to support my elderly parents who are currently living in extremely difficult condition… Mohammed H needs your support f
Urgent Appeal for My Father’s Life 💔
I am begging you from the bottom of my heart, please do not scroll past my father’s suffering.
Yesterday, my father was seriously injured in the head after a nearby bombardment. The injury is severe, and his condition is getting worse. Doctors have told us that he urgently needs surgery as soon as possible to prevent further deterioration and potentially save his life.
We are devastated and completely unable to afford the cost of the operation. The surgery costs $1,200, and every moment we wait puts my father at greater risk.
Please, I am pleading with you. If you can donate, no matter how small the amount, you could help save my father’s life. If you cannot donate, please share this appeal with others. Every share may reach someone who can help.
I cannot bear the thought of losing my father because we could not gather the money for his treatment in time. Watching him suffer while feeling helpless is a pain I cannot describe.
Please, help us give him a chance to survive and recover.
My name is Maram, I am 25 years old from Gaza. I dreamed of a peaceful life, spending my life with my husband and my three children... but the war turned this dream into an impossible one 💔😭. We lived through this genocide with all its painful details and we are still suffering from it😭. We were so happy when the ceasefire was announced, and we returned to our homes in northern Gaza after being displaced for a year and a half in a tent in the south of the Gaza Strip. After repairing a small room in our destroyed house, we began to live there and start over. Unfortunately, the war came back, and it was even stronger than before 💔. Now, we have no shelter or source of income. We have used up all our savings during the war. I know I created my campaign very late, but that's because I have no other means to help my family 🙏. I am completely confident and hopeful that someone here will help us as much as they can and save my family in these tough circumstances 😔.
I know how painful and frustrating it is to start over from scratch, but I hope to get any amount for my family 🥺🙏.
My name is Maram, a Palestinian woman from Gaza. I am 26 years old and a mother of three children: Malik (8 years old), Ibrahim (6 years old
So, please, donate to my campaign, even if it's a small amount—it will have a big impact on us 🥺. May God bless you, my friend 🥰❤️.
I am raising funds for Yesmin, a 27 year old mother from Gaza and a victim of the ongoing genocide. Here are her own words:
Vetted by association I’m ayoosha-stuff friends
Hello friends, I am Yasmin from northern Gaza Strip. I am 27 years old, a mother of two children, Sila and Youssef, and I have been married for more than 7 years.
I was studying Journalism and Media at the University College, and I had both a home and a job. But because of the war, I lost my home, my work, and everything I owned.
My family’s house was also destroyed, and now we have nothing left except a worn-out tent whose torn walls cannot protect us from the heat of summer or the cold of winter.
My husband is injured. He was involved in a traffic accident while trying to get aid, and he is now disabled and unable to work.
My children have suffered from malnutrition due to the lack of food and proper nutrition.
That is why I am only asking for your help and support. I am here trying to save what is left of my children’s lives. They are between life and death.
Please, try to support us and donate whatever you can.
Imagine watching your mother collapse in front of you, knowing she could be saved but being unable to help because of money.
I write this as I watch my mother deteriorate day by day, unable to stop what is happening to her.
Her condition has become very serious due to liver cirrhosis, and her platelet count has dropped to a dangerously low level.
We urgently need the N-Plate 250 mcg injection again. Doctors confirmed the esophageal varices procedure cannot be done without it, and any delay increases the risk.
Time is running out and her condition is worsening. Donate now
The injection costs over $500, which I cannot afford in these harsh circumstances.
If you cannot donate, one share may help save her life.
Friends, you are our only hope to save my mother. Please donate now and share this post widely. There is no time to lose. Every donation and every share can make a difference and help save a life.
No donations and we are still waiting. Every passing hour brings more fear and helplessness. I swear we are fighting to survive, but we cannot do it alone. If support stops, who will save us Please don't scroll past our plea in silence. Share our post and help if you can
For the past 3 days, we've received only €11 in donations. Please, my friends, donate if you can and don't leave us alone in this crisis. I am scared and terrified for my family. Every donation, no matter how small, can make a difference. Thank you for standing with us.
My name is Maram, I am 25 years old from Gaza. I dreamed of a peaceful life, spending my life with my husband and my three children... but the war turned this dream into an impossible one 💔😭. We lived through this genocide with all its painful details and we are still suffering from it😭. We were so happy when the ceasefire was announced, and we returned to our homes in northern Gaza after being displaced for a year and a half in a tent in the south of the Gaza Strip. After repairing a small room in our destroyed house, we began to live there and start over. Unfortunately, the war came back, and it was even stronger than before 💔. Now, we have no shelter or source of income. We have used up all our savings during the war. I know I created my campaign very late, but that's because I have no other means to help my family 🙏. I am completely confident and hopeful that someone here will help us as much as they can and save my family in these tough circumstances 😔.
I know how painful and frustrating it is to start over from scratch, but I hope to get any amount for my family 🥺🙏.
My name is Maram, a Palestinian woman from Gaza. I am 26 years old and a mother of three children: Malik (8 years old), Ibrahim (6 years old
So, please, donate to my campaign, even if it's a small amount—it will have a big impact on us 🥺. May God bless you, my friend 🥰❤️.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I am Jaafar from Gaza. I am currently in northern Gaza, and we have not yet been displaced to the south. Things are very difficult here — the cost of moving to the south is $1,000, and a single tent also costs $1,000, if we can even find a place in southern Gaza. The south is overcrowded, and renting a plot of land costs $1,000 per month, or even more depending on the area. 🙂😢
I started a donation campaign in the middle of the war and received good support, but due to personal circumstances, I recently created a new link, and unfortunately, I have only received a small amount of donations so far. 😓💔 I appeal to you to help me with my new campaign and donate whatever you can 🥺😭. Every amount you give will save the lives of my family and me and may help us cover the cost of moving to southern Gaza! 😓 Thank you, and I pray that God blesses you and provides for you 🧡🫂
Here is the donation link ⬇️**
Hello, my name is Elizabeth Barnes and I am a US citizen organizing this campaign on behalf of my friend Jaafar, who is raising funds to sup
My name is Qusai, I was born in Gaza and I am 16 years old. The war came and I was in the third preparation and I could not complete my studies. I had a house and a place to live in, but unfortunately it has been completely destroyed and our area is subjected to constant warnings and displacement of the population. I do not have any source of income. My father is unemployed after we had a bird shop where we rely on a source of income, but it is destroyed because of the war and we can hardly buy expensive food and because of famine and lack of money, we cannot manage ourselves with our simplest daily needs, so I hope you stand by my family and help make our lives better and make sure that no matter how much it is, no matter what it makes us happy and helps us make our lives better
My name is Qusai, I was born in Gaza and I am 16 years old. The war came and I was in the third preparation and I could not complete my stud
Please donate as much as you can so that help my family even a small amount and tell people about my suffering
sexism in medicine kills people. racism in medicine kills people. fatphobia in medicine kills people. queerphobia in medicine kills people. classism in medicine kills people. ableism in medicine kills people.
do not downplay people’s fears about being mistreated because they are a part of a marginalised group. it is a matter of life and death and you should be angry about it.
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roald dahl was antisemitic and misogynistic. george orwell was openly homophobic. edgar allan poe married his 13 year old cousin. dr seuss cheated on his wife (and was racist as well as antisemitic!). hp lovecraft was racist as fuck.
anyways they’re fucking dead it’s not like you’re enabling their behaviors in the afterlife or something. then again I think they bleed into the books so uh keep an eye out for that
the difference between these old white guys and jk rowling is that the former group is all dead. jk rowling is alive and using your money to oppress trans people