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fluentmoviequoter · 8 months

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Tim Testing

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: After transferring to the Mid-Wilshire division because of toxic male officers harassing you, you find yourself partnered with Tim Bradford. When you are injured during a Tim Test, you hide the injury so he doesn't think less of you.

Warnings: angst to fluff, misogynistic comments and actions toward reader (from police officers), reader is injured and passes out, Tim is a softie

Word Count: 2.5k+ words

A/N: This was such an amazing request!! Tim (and everyone at Mid-Wilshire) would be so welcoming after dealing with something like this, so I really enjoyed writing this one. I hope you enjoy and please feel free to let me know what you think!🤍

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

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You knew from the beginning that it would be different for you, that being a female cop would have its pros, cons, and tough moments. What you didn’t expect was the men who were supposed to be your equals harassing you and making each moment far worse than it should have been.

Between the crass comments about how your uniform fit, questioning whether it was your time of the month whenever you tried to stand up for yourself, and their inability to trust you in the field, you learn your place quickly.

“I’d like to request a transfer to a different station,” you tell your commanding officer.

“Why?” he asks.

“Because there is no respect, no trust in this station. Looking over my shoulder while I’m trying to work, and having to defend myself against the very people who are supposed to have my back is exhausting and it makes me unable to do my job.”

He sighs, rolling his eyes as he slides a form to you. “Your decision. Though showing how weak you are by moving around every time things get hard, or your feelings get hurt isn’t plausible.”

“And you had to ask why,” you mutter, snatching the paper off his desk and walking out to fill it out in private.

“Hey, princess, before we leave on patrol I need to know you don’t have your gun at the front of your belt,” someone calls. “Don’t want to risk getting killed by your poor aim.”

You remain silent, which makes them quit or spurs them on to push you further. As if your day isn’t going poorly already, they take your silence as a weakness.

“Just her gun? You should be more worried about how her attitude changes if her bra rides up or her hormones spike,” a second voice adds.

“You’re on your own today,” you reply. “I’m on desk duty.”

“Finally, someone put you where you belong.”

The men laugh as they walk toward their shops, and you take a deep breath as the quiet settles over the station. Once your paperwork is complete, you take it to the captain. You can only hope it goes through quickly before you get fed up and quit forever.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your commanding officer yells your name as you walk in, intercepting you on your way to the locker room.

“Your transfer just came through, you’re expected at the Mid-Wilshire division for roll call first thing in the morning; today’s PTO while we complete the paperwork,” he informs.

You accept the paper he hands you and pretend not to hear as he adds, “I hope they know what they’re getting into and have the patience to deal with you.”

Smiling as you empty your locker, you hope things are looking up. Although, you know it will be hard to open up to new people and trust new cops, even if they are different than your previous team.

✯✯✯✯✯

Entering the Mid-Wilshire station, you cross your fingers that transferring was the right decision. Sergeant Wade Grey is your new commanding officer, and your day (and your future) relies on this meeting going well.

“Sergeant Grey?” you ask, knocking on his open door.

He looks up, smiling as he beckons you inside. Saying your name, he opens a folder and compliments your arrest record. “I was surprised to hear you asked for a transfer, it seemed like you were doing well at your previous station.”

“The environment was making it difficult to do as well as I know I can, sir,” you answer.

Grey nods. “I can understand that. Our people are good, though, so I expect you will fit in well and succeed in all you do here.”

“I appreciate that, sir.”

“And you can drop the ‘sir,’ we’re not as formal as some other stations.”

Blinking in surprise, you look away from Wade when another cop enters the small office.

“Sergeant Bradford, I’d like to introduce you to your new partner. I will warn both of you this is likely a temporary partnership, but one I trust will do you both some good.”

You smile at Bradford, who tilts his head to the side as he looks you over. It’s clear that he isn’t thrilled about having a partner, having grown used to working alone since becoming a sergeant. As long as he doesn’t treat you like a boot, or worse, like a girl who doesn’t have what it takes to be a cop, you can survive working with him for a few weeks.

What you don’t see, though, is that Tim can look at you and tell you’re a good cop. He reviewed your paperwork and arrest record with Wade yesterday, and he’s impressed by you. You’re good, but you have the potential to be better with the right help. And, for some reason, Wade is convinced that Tim can give you the push you need to be your best.

“Okay, let’s go,” Tim says, turning away as Wade tells you to have a good day.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim acknowledges that you’re not a rookie but warns you from the beginning that you still have something to prove.

“I know you’ve been a cop for a while, but I haven’t seen you in action. Your records are admirable, but I need to see proof that you’re still that good,” he explains. “So, I will test you and challenge you while we’re riding together, but don’t view it as starting over, more like proving grounds than qualifications.”

You nod, remembering something Wade muttered about “Tim Tests,” which you’re sure are unique to Bradford.

“I understand. I’ll do my best, and I want to learn to be better.”

Tim doesn’t reply, and you raise your guard, unimpressed with how shut off he is with you. In general, your past has made you wary around men; after Tim’s insistence that you have something to prove, you are determined to hide everything that could be taken as a sign of weakness. You will do whatever it takes to show you are a good cop, worthy of respect.

Slamming on the brakes, Tim yells, “We’re being ambushed; what do you do?”

“Radio for backup, stay in the shop, stay low, and fire only if necessary,” you answer, nearly robotically, as he catches you off guard.

Tim eases back onto the road, ignoring you once again.

✯✯✯✯✯

Just before your scheduled lunch break, something which you haven’t actually enjoyed in far too long, Tim parks between two old warehouses.

“There’s a suspicious package in the gray building, you’re riding alone and need to check it out,” he explains. “Radio any information as you find it.”

You switch your radio to a private channel with Tim, accepting the call as you exit the shop and enter the building. It’s dark and wet, but you refuse to accept any comments or disdainful looks from Tim if you fail this test, so you will find the package and impress him as quickly as possible.

“7-Adam-9, located suspicious package: brown paper bag situated between steel beams,” you radio.

“Dispatch, requesting additional information,” Tim replies.

You sigh, moving forward to look at the bag because you can’t touch it. When you move, the beams sitting upright in the warehouse shift. Stepping back a second too late, one side of the heavy structure hits the back of your shoulder, shoving you forward into the crate holding the package.

Pain radiates through your shoulder as you move to the side, pulling yourself away from the mess you made with a sharp inhale.

“7-Adam-9, false alarm. Suspicious package is empty. Code 4.”

“Copy 7-Adam-9.”

Taking a step toward the door, you hiss in pain as the pain moves from your shoulder around to your ribs, where you fell against the crate. It seems likely that you broke something or at least got a deep bruise, but telling Tim would be like admitting that you’re weak. So, as you level your expression and cover your pain by walking normally, you decide to hide your pain.

Being labeled weak or incapable, or as before, giving Tim a reason to view you as less than is not an option anymore. Buckling your seatbelt, you press your lips together to keep your pained sounds muted, and the feeling of the seat on your shoulder makes you count down the minutes until you can get out of the shop.

✯✯✯✯✯

As the day goes on, your pain grows in intensity. Each breath causes immeasurable pain, and your stomach turns when you move your shoulder in any direction.

“Wade’s going to ask me, so how’s your first day going?” Tim asks, turning down a residential street to respond to a noise disturbance.

“Fine,” you answer quickly, clenching your jaw to stay quiet.

“Good,” he replies, though his voice sounds different. “Glad you found a station that works for you.”

You can’t tell if his comment is passive-aggressive, implying that you are the issue rather than the station you transferred from. The overbearing pain you’re feeling makes it nearly impossible to care.

“You take point on this one,” Tim offers as he parks by the curb.

“Yes, sir.”

Asking questions and explaining the city’s noise ordinances to the tenant, you’re momentarily distracted from your pain. The moment you turn to return to the shop, though, you’re reminded that your new position isn’t quite as enjoyable as you were expecting.

“Take us back to the station,” Tim says, tossing the shop keys to you.

When you raise your hand to catch the keys, your shoulder screams in protest, and you close your eyes momentarily to hide the pain.

“You alright?” Tim asks.

Nodding, you release a sigh when Tim climbs into the passenger seat, too easily convinced by your answer.

✯✯✯✯✯

After a quick meeting with Wade, discussing your new role, and signing a few documents, you head for the locker room. When you pull your shirt off, you glance in the mirror, surprised to see the size and color of the bruise; your entire shoulder, over to your neck and down around the front of your ribs, is a sickening purple. The yellowish tint around the edges is a sign that it will only worsen before it begins to heal. Attempting to raise your arm again, you feel something shift under your skin and step into one of the bathroom stalls, kneeling as you try to keep yourself from being sick. When you lean your head against the metal wall, the coolness is soothing, and as you finally let yourself acknowledge the pain, it becomes all you can feel.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim opens Wade’s door, furrowing his brows when he sees you’re not there.

“She left a few minutes ago,” Wade answers.

“Her car’s still here.”

“Must be in the locker room then.”

“Why’d she transfer?” Tim asks, stepping inside to close the door.

“I don’t know, Bradford. You’re going to have to ask her.”

Tim nods, turning away to search for you. He knocks on the locker room door, and when no one answers, he opens it and says your name. Once again met with silence, he steps inside and looks around. Your locker is open, but you’re nowhere to be seen. As he rounds the last row of lockers, he sees someone sitting on the floor in one of the bathroom stalls.

Tim says your name, knocking on the door. It opens at his touch, and he catches it before it hits your arm. Kneeling beside you, he looks across your face, pressing his hand behind your neck as he tries to find the source of your unconsciousness. His hand dips to your upper shoulder, and you groan, opening your eyes.

Tim ignores you as you wake, gently leaning you forward as he surveys the bruise where it’s visible past your tank top.

“Stay awake,” he says, moving you again. “Just your shoulder?”

You nod, and he demands to know: “Home or hospital?”

“Home,” you whisper. “But I can-“

“Obviously you can’t,” Tim snaps, his arms gentler than his voice as he lifts you from the ground.

✯✯✯✯✯

You stay conscious, fighting against the pain as you give Tim directions to your home. After getting you inside and as comfortable as possible, he leaves your side to gather a few things before returning. He gives you a glass of water and a few pain reliever pills, waiting until you’ve taken them to lay an ice pack across your shoulder. You take a deep breath at the cold before catching yourself.

“What else hurts?” Tim asks.

“My ribs,” you admit.

He leans you back gently, pushing your tank top to your sternum as he surveys the darkening bruise across your lower ribcage. Gently moving his hand across your skin, he doesn’t feel anything obviously broken, apologizing as you whimper at the pressure. Pulling the first aid kit he brought from your kitchen to his side, he places several cooling packets over your ribs.

Satisfied that he’s done all he can do for you, Tim moves to sit across from you, making himself comfortable in your living room.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“I’m not leaving,” he answers quickly, “what if you collapse again?”

“I’ll be fine.”

Tim silences, closing his eyes as he leans back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You’ve heard that question dozens of times, but previously, it was asked in a much different tone. Always an accusation that you hadn’t handled something correctly or that you should have let someone else do whatever it was that needed to be done.

When you look back at Tim, his eyes are on you, and you shrug. His eyes narrow as his gaze intensifies, demanding your answer.

“The last station that I worked at made me nervous to tell people things, especially other cops. All of the guys that I worked with harassed me constantly, and they tried to convince me that I wasn’t a good cop because I was a woman. So, I have trouble trusting other police officers with personal things. During your Tim Tests, I thought that if I acknowledged something had happened, you’d see me the same way.”

“Which way?”

“Weak, incapable,” you answer, trailing off.

“They were bad people,” Tim explains. “They may have been okay cops, but no one deserves to be treated like that.”

You nod, licking your lips as your gaze drops to the blanket across your lap.

“Want to tell me what happened today?” he pries.

“The steel beams around the bag?” Tim nods, so you continue, “They fell. One of them hit my shoulder and knocked me forward.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You couldn’t have known that would happen. Besides, you helped me. My last partner would have found a way to blame be.”

“Like I said, bad people. But you… you’re a good person and a good cop,” Tim continues. “I’ve known that since you walked in, but I needed to know that you knew. Getting hurt or being unable to do something on the first try doesn’t make you less of a person, or a cop. Being a woman doesn’t either. And if they didn’t see that, it’s their loss.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, looking into his eyes.

“And my gain.”

You furrow your brows at Tim, but he leans back and closes his eyes instead of elaborating.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #requests #fem!reader #the rookie

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 5 months

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I just remembered this tidbit from my childhood, and as you are the only person from outside the US to ever interact with me on here, you get to hear it. When I was in the fifth grade (10-11 years old) it was “parent career day”. You know, bring your dad in and he talks to the class about being an electrician or doctor or whatever. Anyway. Classmates dad was a police officer in our town, and he was talking about his day to day and then asked us if we had any questions. I raise my little 5th grade hand and say “when you shoot somebody, do you ever aim for the leg or anything to avoid killing them and just remove the threat?” And he looked out to the room full of 10 year olds and says “no. I always aim for the head. Always go for a kill shot if you have it.” And I think about that every time I see a cop. I also think about it every time I play call of duty….

When I was a little kid I was considering joining the Federal Police when I grew up and I spoke to a friend of the family in the AFP. Aussie cops don't have to shoot people all that often but he said that if you do have to shoot someone, you should do your best to kill them no matter the circumstances, because permanently injured targets are lawsuits waiting to happen, but a dead victim can't sue or testify and on the extremely rare chance that something like that does become a legal issue the police force will almost always win against a dead body.

He also said that aiming for the head on your first shot is an idiot move, though, because it's a small and probably mobile target. A handgun isn't a sniper rifle; unless there's a clear reason not to, aim for the centre of mass. So my cop and yours would probably disagree on just how to kill the person they've decided to just up and kill unnecessarily.

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johnwickb1tsch · 5 months

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Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE AMAAAZING @treedaddymcpuffpuff 😘😘😘) - Chapter Thirteen ---> (all chapters)

TW's: abuse of police authority, manhandling, unfair power dynamics, unreasonable hotness in a man this annoying

Days go by, and you don’t hear from Tom Ludlow again. You think to yourself that it’s fine, that that’s exactly what you wanted, but deep down you’re a little pissed off, and more than a little needy.

Maybe that’s why the next time you have to drive home late at night, you go back to your old, faster route of taking the highway. Defiance roils in your bones like lava churning in a volcano, and you just refuse to be intimidated by that man, even if it means digging your own grave. Figuratively speaking, of course. Officer Ludlow doesn't want to hurt you. He wants to fuck you, and maybe even buy you dinner first, and you might have come around to him eventually if he just hadn’t been such a fucking dick about it.

You’re not hoping that you get to see him again, here on the empty highway. But if you do…you kind of want to fight him. Because someone should tell him what a reprobate he is. Not because you love the fiery feeling you get in your veins, or the spark of wicked enjoyment in his dark eyes.

You’re almost to the exit, and there is no cop car in sight. No flashing red and blue lights. No little wooo of the warning siren behind you. Why are you worried? Why are you disappointed? Why are you pouting like the baby who got their candy taken away?

There’s a few options, and none of them appeal to you. Sure, maybe you should be delighted that this meathead has decided to either let it drop or get fatally injured—your stomach lodges in your throat at that second thought. That means you won’t have to deal with his antics anymore. But, god damn you, you were starting to really like those antics.

Tom Ludlow pissing you off has become a vital reason for your willingness to get out of bed, and that thought terrifies you, because this shit never ends well. At least not for girls like you who love too much and expect the same in return. You pulled your heart from your sleeve and zipped it back into it’s protected, designated cavity after a slew of failed one-sided relationships (whether the friend or romantic kind), and now the treacherous organ is trying to claw right back out again for Tom Ludlow to squeeze dry in his big hand.

You get home, and you feel empty. Bored. Worried about a man who has made your life kind of, if you’re being honest, a living hell. Does that stop you from sticking your hand down your pajama pants and fantasizing about him? From wishing he’d call again? No. Not at all.

You are loath to admit it, and you’ll take this to your grave, but you’re actually relieved, the next night, to see the twinkling red and blue lights following behind you while you’re pushing 90 in a 70 only half on purpose.

Your heart transforms into a mini circus as he walks up to your driver's door and taps on the window glass.

Before he can even open his big mouth, you start in on him. You’ve been planning this spiel for days now, after all, and it would be useless to waste it. “You.” You have to take a minute when you see that he doesn’t sport his usual smirk. “What is a detective like you doing working the complaints desk, and now working traffic at night?”

“So what?” He folds his arms over his chest, biceps bulging through the thick uniform shirt, distracting you from your resolve and switching on cavewoman brain for a minute.

You almost have to shake yourself to snap out of it. “Are you just playing cop? You’re not even actually on duty right now Officer Ludlow.”

This smile is less ‘playground bully’ and more ‘hungry wolf’. “Are you challenging the law, Miss y/l/n?”

“No, I’m challenging some dickhead who thinks he’s top dog just cuz he wears a plastic badge. Where’d you get it, anyway? Fisher Price?”

“Please exit the vehicle, Miss y/n.”

“This is bullshit.”

“Please be calm.”

It is the absolute worst thing he could possibly say to you. After a twelve hour shift, your feet are killing you, you’re covered in the grime of your long day, and to add insult to injury–you’re mad at yourself as much as him, because he made you miss him. That is when you do exit the vehicle, and your finger stabs into the middle of his broad chest (and you know part of that bulk is a vest but jesus fucking christ this man is burly in all the right places) and snap, “I’m tired, I’ve had a long fucking day and I don’t need this shit from you.”

Officer Ludlow takes one amused look down at that finger in his chest and suddenly you are turned around, your palms on the hood of your car. He is tall and broad and warm behind you and fuck you if the cavewoman part of your brain does not respond in the worst possible way, a soft but utterly audible little cry escaping your treacherous lips. You know he hears it by the way he pauses behind you, the way a wolf perks his ears at the sound of a rabbit in the brush. You seem frozen in this ridiculous position for several seconds longer than what is necessary (not that any of this is necessary) and you get the sense that this man is savoring this closeness with you.

“Resisting an officer is a misdemeanor, you know,” he says in your ear, and that low baritone sends a thrill to the marrow of your bones, ties your belly up in knots, makes you wet between your thighs. Hearing him through the phone is one thing, having his breath tickling your skin is an entirely different beast.

You turn your head slightly towards him, and you know some of the venom goes from your tone but you just can’t help it.

“What about harassing a civilian?”

“Depends on the civilian.” Well, isn’t that the truth. Like you needed a reminder that you are, in fact, a nobody with no connections in this town. Although, you doubt that he's telling the truth about it “depending on the civilian”, because he handcuffed and assaulted a popular, lawyer ready ER doctor just days ago. Which is just great, because if he felt entitled enough to do that to Julian, what’s stopping him from doing much worse to you? “Are you armed?”

“Clearly,” you snark, because you’re wearing your cute blue scrubs and it would take a miracle to hide something under the thin fabric.

“I mean besides that fiery temper.”

He kicks your legs a little further apart, just hard enough to make your feet slide in the loose gravel of the shoulder, and you think you might self-immolate right there. It’s all you can do, not to arch back into him like a cat in heat. It really has been too fucking long since you got laid. Something firm pokes into the curve of your behind, and it had better be his fucking utility belt.

He actually starts to pat you down, the cheeky fucker, those big hands making their way lightly down your sides. You know he can feel you trembling under his touch–with fear or excitement, it’s hard even for you to tell. Maybe that’s what makes him bold when he reaches your thigh, those long fingers giving you an appreciative squeeze.

It reminds you of that time not so long ago, when you’d drunkenly wanted him to slide his hand up your skirt, and he’d refused you. You shouldn’t want that from him, but you do, and that makes you so angry you could spit. Now he thinks he gets to feel you up? Your foot flails out, catching him in the shin with your Croc-clad heel. It totally throws you off balance, sending you down onto the hood of your car, but you are mad and you don’t care.

“Watch it!”

He, however, couldn’t be more delighted. You can hear the practical glee in his tone as he sings out, “Assaulting an officer? Someone’s just asking to get booked.”

Maybe you’re a healer by nature, but there is just something about this man that makes you want to commit murder. Just the once. You even think Florence Nightingale would understand.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wouldn’t I?”

That’s when you realize he probably, absolutely fucking would dare. So far he has proved that he gives jack-all for the rules that should apply to him as an Officer of the Law. And you cannot have that on your record. Even if you told the truth and it turned into some He-Said She-Said bullshit that would drag out for months–years, possibly, even–your license could be suspended. You live paycheck to paycheck in this expensive fucking city. You cannot afford something like that.

“You asshole.”

“Maybe. But you’re lucky I’m not actually a bad guy, y/n.”

“How do you figure?”

Somehow, his voice lowers an octave, and no matter how livid you are, your lady parts absolutely rebel with an almost violent ache between your thighs. “Because if I was I’d spank that beautiful behind of yours for kicking me. With crocs? Really? I’m going to have to show you a few things, you scare me honey.”

Is this man offering to teach you to defend yourself in the same breath he’s using to blackmail you? You’re nearly cross-eyed from the whiplash.

“Sorry, I’ll be sure to wear boots next time.”

“Great. Wear them to dinner, tomorrow night. And we’ll forget this ever happened.”

How he knows you’re free tomorrow, you don’t really want to know.

You feel yourself deflate, knowing he’s finally got you over the proverbial barrel. The thought should not excite you the way it does. “You’re serious.”

“I tried asking nicely.”

“Most men get the picture when you tell them ‘no’ more than twice? A million times? I forget how many.”

“Maybe, except I see the way you look at me, when you think I’m not looking and my ass is hanging out of a hospital gown. I know how pretty you sound, when you orgasm to my voice while I talk you through it over the phone. And when you’re in trouble, I’m the one you know you can call, because I’ll drop everything to make sure you’re safe. So, you’re finally going to give this thing between us a chance, whether you like it or not. Pick you up at eight?”

You sigh, shoulders slumping, head resting against the warm car. His eyes immediately hone in on the column of your throat, and the way he wets his bottom lip doesn’t seem intentional, which just riles you up even more. You grit your teeth, but it doesn’t really look like you have a choice. “Sure.” Asshole.

This time, you’re smart enough to keep that to yourself.

As though he heard you think it, he spins you around, practically picking your feet up off the ground, and braces you against the door of your car, one hand on either side of your head, full wolfy grin sending a thrill of danger through your spine. The way he can just manhandle you like you weigh nothing crosses some vital wires in your brain–you cannot think.

You try to stay defiant, raise your chin to look up at him, keep some semblance of pride. It’s not fair that he has such sway over you and you seem to have absolutely none over him. You have to even this playing field somehow.

“Maybe you have a badge and you think that makes you hot shit, but at the end of the day you’re just a bully, Tom.”

His gaze travels up your neck, over your face, until he lands on your own guarded, defeated stare. Something changes in his expression. “You think I don’t know you? Well, maybe you don’t know me either. But you’re going to find out, sweetheart, I’m not a bad guy.”

You eye him suspiciously. “I guess I don’t have a choice, right?”

He leans down, brings his nose an inch from yours, invades your personal space. For a second, you think he’s going to kiss you, and it makes you go stiff and lax all at once. The heat of his breath tickles over the nerve rich plump of your lips, and they part for him despite your brain’s vehement protest.

“Right.” He’s gone as soon as he comes, dropping your stomach from throat to feet. You hope he doesn’t hear the desperate, quiet sound that you try to burrow under your tongue.

You think he’s just going to walk away and leave you here in the warm, damp, lonely, dark highway like a sitting duck, but instead he opens your door and motions for you to slide back into your seat.

“Don’t forget to buckle up, honey.” As he saunters away, thumbs looped through his belt—God, he’s fucking painfully sexy—you don’t bother hiding the way you watch his ass move this time.

#tom ludlow #tom ludlow x you #tom ludlow x reader #tom ludlow x y/n #street kings #keanuverse #keanuverse fic #keanu reeves #julian mercer #julian mercer x you #keanu reeves x you #excessive force tom ludlow fic

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enigmalynne · 3 months

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Life at the Breaking Point: Love, Duty, and a Deadly Confrontation in the ER

Title – Life at the Breaking Point: Love, Duty, and a Deadly Confrontation in the ER Pairings – Jensen x Reader, Jared x Madison Word Count – 8,526 Warnings – mentions of shootings, beatings and violence, inaccurate police scenarios, hostage situation JAcklesverse Square – “I thought I lost you forever.”

He's a SWAT team member at the Sheriff's Office, and she's a doctor at St. David's Medical Center Emergency Room. They met at Jared and Madison's wedding, becoming fast friends with a longing for more that the other knows nothing about.

Those feelings come screaming to the front of his head and heart when Jensen hears about a shooting at the hospital where Y/N works, where she's held hostage at gunpoint. Will he be able to remain professional, or is his love for this doctor going to make him do something crazy?

Y/N was sitting at her desk, typing notes from her last patient, when she heard the popping sound. She didn’t think anything of it at first since the emergency room faced the highway and cars backfired all the time, but when she heard the succession of pops a second time, she lifted her eyes toward the glass doors heading outside.

“What was that?” one of the nurses asked as she walked by. Y/N kept her eyes on the glass doors and listened intently for the sound again. When she heard it the third time, it was louder, closer to the entrance. She knew what it was immediately.

“Oh, God,” she muttered, eyes going wide. She swung her head toward the nurses standing nearby. “Get as many people and patients out of here as you can. Get them to the elevators and send them up at least three floors.”

“What?” a nurse asked.

“Now!” Y/N shouted, grabbing the phone in front of her. “Go!!” The women were startled and started running into action. With a quick punch of numbers, Y/N’s voice went over the intercom for the entire emergency room.

“Code Red! We have a Code Red in the emergency room!” she said, looking behind her to ensure people were moving. “Code Red in Emergency!”

Suddenly, the front doors to the emergency room were kicked open, glass breaking and metal bending. The mechanism that makes them slide open sparked and broke, causing them to stop working. Y/N ducked her head to make sure none of the glass got close to the desk area she was at.

“Someone get over here and help me!” a furious voice shouted. Y/N looked toward the entrance of the ER to see a man standing there, holding another man who looked like he had been shot. He had a gun in his hand, and Y/N instantly knew he was the one firing the shots outside.

“You!” he growled, pointing the weapon in Y/N’s face with furiously narrowed eyes. She immediately lifted her hands in a show of surrender despite her fear. A few nurses and an orderly nearby froze when they saw the weapon.

“You. You a doctor?” he asked. Y/N nodded.

“Yeah, I’m a doctor,” she responded.

“Good. You help him. If he dies, you die,” the man said. Y/N nodded again, swallowing back her terror.

“What… what happened to him?” she asked carefully.

“What does it look like happened to him? He was shot, you dumb bitch!” the guy shouted. Y/N flinched. “Now help him, or you’ll be shot next!”

“Can you take the gun off us long enough for us to help him? Please?” she asked timidly. The guy gave her an incredulous look, but she continued. “Just put it away until we get him into a room and get him help. You can keep it on me the entire time I’m working on him, but for now, I need you to put it away so we can focus,” she begged.

The man glared at Y/N before looking back at the man he was carrying. He looked back at the doctor before nodding his head and slipping the gun into his jacket pocket. Once it was out of sight, Y/N moved.

“I need a gurney here! Now!” she shouted, causing a flurry of action. The two nurses ran up while the orderly dashed off to find a gurney. Y/N helped the nurses assess the injured man as best they could and lifted the wounded man onto it once the gurney showed up. As it rolled away, stats started to be shouted out.

“Gunshot wound to the abdomen, no exit wound. We need to get him intubated.”

“Trauma 2 is open; make a hole, people!”

“Blood pressure is low; pulse is thready; he needs a transfusion; get me two units of O-Neg!”

“Someone get surgery on the phone, let them know we need a room now!!”

As they were running into the trauma room, the gunman followed along close by.

“What’s his name?” someone asked.

“Mark,” the gunman said. “His name is Mark.”

“Count of three, people… one, two, three,” Y/N said, and the group moved the victim onto the bed. The activity kicked up a notch as a third nurse jumped in to assist by putting leads on his chest and turned on the monitors nearby, causing beeping and tones to start in the room over their talking.

“Mark, can you hear me? I’m Doctor Y/N,” she said, checking out his eyes. Y/N continued to assess the injury as one nurse cut the clothing off him and another put an IV in his arm. More information is being shouted around, causing the gunman to watch in confusion.

“Mark, if you can hear me, squeeze my fingers,” Y/N said, putting two fingers inside his left hand. When nothing happened, Y/N frowned, shaking her head. Suddenly, alarms went off around them.

“He’s flatlining!”

“Someone get the LUCAS!” Y/N shouted. One of the nurses ran off to grab the machine while Y/N and the other nurse got the man ready. “Get that bag ready!”

“C’mon, Mark, don’t do this to us,” Y/N muttered as the three women got the machine into place. As the nurses strapped Mark’s arms into place, Y/N set the machine and once cleared, it began compressions.

“Start breathing for him,” she snapped at one of the nurses. Every twenty compressions, a nurse squeezed the bag connected to the vent in his throat to provide air into his lungs. The gunman watched with wide, panicked eyes. Just then, the surgeon, Benny, walked into the room.

“What d’ya got?” he asked, his Creole accent thick. The gunman was startled and pulled his gun back out of his pocket, having forgotten about it while watching the work being done to his friend. Y/N noticed it and tried to hold the man’s arm down. In frustration, he yanked his arm free and whipped the gun across her face, causing gasps from the nurses in the room.

“Whoa,” the surgeon shouted, stepping forward to stop the attack but freezing when the gun was pointed at him. Y/N was on the ground, a hand on her now bleeding head.

“Back off,” the gunman growled.

“Stop!” Y/N shouted roughly from the ground. “We have to get him into surgery if you want us to save his life!” The gunman glanced at her on the floor, then backed up at the people in the curtained room.

“She’s right,” one of the nurses explained. “He was shot in the stomach, and there isn’t an exit wound. The bullet is still in his stomach somewhere, and we have to get in there, get it out, and stop the bleeding.”

“Look, man, if you want to save his life, you have to let us work,” Benny said, his hands placatingly. He’s already on the LUCAS, which means he’s already close to death. The more time we waste here, the less of a chance he has.”

The gunman reached down and grabbed Y/N by the hair, pulling her up. Once she was on her knees in front of him, he placed the gun on her temple. The other people in the emergency room whimpered at the movement, including Y/N. The gunman looked back up at Benny expectantly.

“I will kill her if he dies,” he said. “Now, go.” Benny glanced down at Y/N’s tear-filled face before turning and giving orders to the nurses. The three pulled the gurney toward the elevator and made the move to the surgical floor. There was a momentary pause where the quiet took over, then the gunman dragged her up to her feet and shoved her ahead of him so they could walk back into the waiting area.

“You’re coming with me, Doc,” he said, keeping his weapon aimed at her head, his hand still gripping her hair. Y/N swallowed back a sob, tears still running down her face. “Get up.”

Attention all units: shots were fired at St. David’s Medical Center Emergency Room, with an unknown number of shooters, at least four victims.

Jensen was finishing up some paperwork in his vehicle when the call came over the radio, causing him to pause and listen to the report. St. David’s Medical Center is where Y/N worked, a woman he met at Jared’s wedding a few years ago. Throwing his car into drive with lights flashing and sirens blaring, Jensen peeled out of the parking lot he was sitting in and headed toward the hospital as fast as he could.

When Jared told him he was proposing to Madison, a schoolteacher he fell in love with after meeting her at a law enforcement appreciation day, he couldn’t have been happier for the man. Jensen had seen Jared through many failed relationships because he was a law enforcement officer, and he hated seeing his friend discouraged. As a man from a big family, Jared always imagined having a wife of his own with three or four kids running around. When Jared and Madison met, Jensen could see the instant connection. When Jared asked Jensen for help picking out a ring a year later, he couldn’t have been happier for his best friend.

During the planning process, he, the best man, met the maid of honor, Y/N. The emergency room doctor was the complete opposite of Madison. While both girls were outgoing, friendly, and energetic, Madison was more sophisticated and genteel, whereas Y/N was a bit more wild and carefree. Jensen had no idea how they became best friends until he saw them hanging out together, and their personalities blended perfectly.

The two spent much time together helping the bride and groom prepare for a storybook wedding, laughing and making fun of the couple. They connected instantly and even gave a joint toast at the reception. They have remained friends ever since, though if Jared had his way, they would have been a couple since the end of the wedding.

Jensen arrived at the hospital quickly and jumped out of his SUV, eyes scanning the building. He popped open the back and unlocked the case that held his rifle. He pulled it across his chest and slid some extra magazines into the slots on his bulletproof vest before closing the hatch, locking his car, and running up to where the rest of the deputies had taken point. Once he got to a safe location, he knelt and aimed at the front of the hospital. Five minutes later, Jared Padalecki came up beside him.

“Mads called me on my way over,” Jared said quietly. Jensen glanced over at him, but Jared’s narrowed eyes never left the front doors to the emergency room. “Y/N’s working today and isn’t answering her phone.”

“Fuck,” Jensen cursed under his breath. “That means she’s in there and probably one of the hostages.”

“Yeah.”

“Ackles! Get over here!” a voice shouted from the Incident Command Center bus. Jensen popped up from where he was and ran over.

“Yessir!”

“I understand you have a solid understanding of this hospital, including how we can contact someone inside,” Lieutenant Singer said. Jensen nodded.

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“You’re coming with me, Doc,” he said, keeping his weapon aimed at her head, his hand still gripping her hair. Y/N swallowed back a sob, tears still running down her face. “Get up. The rest of you get moving. If you can walk, walk up front,” he growled. The remaining nurses, techs, and patients who could move did so quickly with their hands up in surrender. With the gun pressed to Y/N’s head, the hostages knew they had to obey the gunman’s orders.

“Look,” Y/N started, stumbling as she tried to keep up with the man dragging her by her hair. “We have sick patients in the ER right now. There are injured people just outside the doors; they need medical attention. Please, you have to let us help them, or they could die.”

“I can’t do that,” he said quietly. The man cocked his weapon, causing Y/N to inhale sharply and the people nearby to cry out. Once they were in the waiting room in front of the ER, he ordered the hostages to line up. When they didn’t move, he shouted. “Line up against those fucking windows, now! Or someone else will get shot today!” Everyone rushed to line up against the windows, sobbing echoing through the now-empty waiting room.

The gunman glanced out the front doors, catching sight of the flashing lights, and cursed under his breath. Looking around, he ordered two of the hostages to stand in front of the shattered doors. They scampered to do his bidding, glancing at Y/N as they went by. The gunman continued to drag her with him, his fist tightening in her hair. Y/N whimpered, wincing at the pain in her scalp.

“Why don’t you tell me your name, huh?” she said suddenly, trying to get him talking.

“I’m not telling you my fucking name!” he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. Y/N flinched, her hands starting to shake as she held onto his hand in her hair. The gunman aimed his gun toward the ceiling and fired a round, the sound echoing around the emergency room, causing people to scream.

“Any more dumbass questions, and the next one will be in your head, understand?” the gunman growled. Y/N nodded as well as she could with his grip on her. Suddenly, a phone on the main desk rang. The gunman growled as he shifted his gun to one of the nurses standing by the windows.

“YOU! What’s your name?” he asked a young brunette in bright pink scrubs who was crying. She whimpered loudly before swallowing hard.

“Ma… ma… Maggie,” she stuttered.

“Well, ma, ma, Maggie…” he said, mocking the girl. “Answer the fucking phone and get rid of whoever it is.” Maggie nodded, rushed over to the desk, lifted the receiver, and placed it to her ear.

“He… hello?”

“This is Lieutenant Singer of the Travis County Sheriff’s Office. Is everyone okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How many hostages are in there with you?”

“Um, well…”

“Hang up the fucking phone!” the gunman shouted, causing Maggie to flinch and whimper.

“See if you can get him on the phone,” Singer said calmly. Maggie looked over at the gunman and held the phone out to him.

“It’s the police. He says he wants to talk to you,” she said, her voice slightly whimpering. The gunman dragged Y/N with him as he stalked over to where the nurse sat, snatching the phone out of her hand.

“No one here wants to talk to you, asshat!” he shouted into the phone. The gunman then yanked the phone and threw it against the wall.

When they heard a gunshot inside the hospital, tensions grew in the parking lot where police were set up. Singer tried to reach them on the phone to ensure everyone was okay, but it ended in a dial tone. Roman was using his binoculars to investigate the emergency room through the glass doors in front of the building.

“Roman, what can you see?” Singer asked.

“Looks like most of the hostages are in the lobby, lined up in front of the windows. He’s got one by the hair,” Roman responded. “He’s trying to make it hard for anyone to get a shot off through the glass.” Singer cursed under his breath, realizing sniper work was not an option.

“He knows what he’s doing,” he muttered. Jensen stood nearby, his AR-15 aimed at the hospital. He kept his green eyes locked on the front of the hospital, watching for movement.

“We got intel,” a voice said over the radio. “Shooter is Andrew Clarkson, age 32. Has a long rap sheet, mostly petty theft and small crimes, but recently, he’s been picked up on a few drug charges. Don’t know why he’s decided to hold the ER hostage, but this would be his first major crime with a firearm.” Jensen shook his head, glancing at Singer. As he was about to open his mouth and say something, a man started to walk into view.

“Suspect is coming to the door; he has a hostage with him,” a voice echoed across the radio. Everyone lifted their weapons and aimed as all eyes faced the entrance to the emergency room, including Jensen. The gunman shoved the broken glass door aside with his foot, dragging someone with him. The gun pressed to her head gave everyone pause. He yanked the hostage forward and hid behind a brunette dressed in blue scrubs; his hand fisted into her hair as he shoved her in front of him. Her hands gripped his, her pale skin tear-stained and bruising as she tried to control her breathing.

When Jensen realized who the hostage was, fury burned viciously in his veins.

“That son of a bitch,” Jensen growled.

“Get back!” the gunman shouted, pressing the gun into Y/N’s temple. “Get back, all of you!”

“Let her go, Andrew,” Singer said into the mouthpiece of a megaphone. The gunman, Andrew, grew angrier, yanking at Y/N’s hair. The cry that came from her was like ice down Jensen’s spine. Jared glanced at him from the corner of his eye, ensuring the man didn’t do anything stupid.

“All of you just stay out of the way, and no one will get hurt,” Andrew shouted. Then he smirked. “Well, any more hurt than they already are.”

“What is it that you want?” Singer asked. “Maybe we can help in some way.”

“What I want is my brother to survive, and if this here bitch doctor and that surgeon friend of hers upstairs do the job right, he will,” Andrew spit out. “That ain’t none of y’all business, so go about your way and let me handle this.”

“You know we can’t do that, Andrew. You’ve shot four people already. You have an emergency room full of doctors and patients in there being held hostage,” Singer shouted, shaking his head. Jensen was starting to get twitchy, Jared noticed.

“Hey, take a breath,” Jared muttered quietly. “You aren’t going to help her going in halfcocked.” Jensen shot him a furious glance. “I want her outta there too, but we must use our heads here.” Jensen took a deep breath and adjusted his grip on his rifle. He studied the man who was holding Y/N hostage, her cries of pain infuriating him as he watched Andrew drag her back into the emergency room. Once they were out of sight, Jensen and Jared lowered their weapons, but not without sounds of frustration.

“There’s gotta be some way for us to get in there without being detected,” Jared said, looking up at the building. Jensen shakes his head.

“They already have guys working on going in from the roof,” he said with frustration. He turned and looked at the sign in front of him pointing the way to the back of the building. Noticing the directionals, he had a sudden thought.

“I have an idea,” Jensen said, looking at Singer. “Emergency rooms typically have a back entrance when they must take people from an ambulance. It’s different from where the public comes in, so they don’t get traumatized. I’m betting our perp doesn’t have that back entrance covered.”

Jared catches on to what Jensen is saying, snaps his fingers, and points.

“Right! Some of us could go back and sneak in that way while you have the rest of SWAT coming down from the roof,” Jared said. Jensen nodded.

“Make it obvious we are coming in from the rooftop; get him distracted so he isn’t aware of us coming in from the back. We sneak in, take him by surprise, pin him down, and it’s all over,” Jensen explains. Singer looks at Jensen with narrowed eyes, then nods slowly.

“Alright, let’s do it. Pick three more to go with you. The rest will go up,” Singer said. Jensen turned to Jared, bumping fists.

“You in?” Jensen asked.

“Always.”

“Awesome. Go get Seb and Jake; meet back here in five.”

Jared turned and jogged off to pull the two men away and get them ready to go around the back. Jensen looked back over to the front of the hospital and took a deep breath. Hang on Y/N, we’re coming.

Andrew and Y/N made their way back into the emergency room, the sound of muffled sobs echoing around the room. Andrew shoved Y/N away from him, causing her to stumble and fall. She landed hard on her knee before collapsing against one of the sets of chairs put together. The chairs were loud as they scratched along the floor, moving as Y/N slammed into them.

She moaned quietly, her hand going to her head to rub her scalp as she looked over to where Andrew was now pacing the floor in agitation. Y/N wasn’t sure what would happen next, but she knew things were about to get nasty.

Jensen and his team slowly made their way around the back of the emergency room, running in time with each other, their weapons held at the ready. The helicopter carrying the rest of the SWAT team was flying above them at the same time, making it evident that the sheriff’s office was about to drop deputies onto the roof to make their way down. Jenson glanced up at them once as he made his way around.

Once the back doors came into view, they slowed down to walk so they could see around the corner without drawing attention to themselves. Jensen signaled for the men to pause while he made his way over to the doors and glanced in. It was quiet; the only noise came from machines tracking heart rates and other vital information from patients left behind.

“Just as I thought, no one is back here,” he muttered quietly. “Okay, Seb and Jake take the far end. Jay, you stick with me.” The men nodded their heads in agreement before moving toward the automatic doors. As they quietly swooshed open, the team silently moved forward. Each man made their way through the curtained area of the emergency room, checking on the patients who were still in beds with machines hooked up to them. A few of the patients who were not unconscious saw them moving and were startled by the sudden appearance of a law enforcement officer. The deputies made movements for them to keep quiet.

“Stay here, and don’t move no matter what you hear. We’ll come back and get you out,” Jared whispered to a young couple who sat terrified next to their elderly mother. They nodded frantically, fear radiating off them. Jared then got on his radio, messaging the deputies out front that there were innocent people in the emergency room beds, forgotten and left behind by the gunman. Once the front lobby appeared, Jensen held up a hand to stop them.

From where he stood, he could see Andrew pacing in front of the desk where a nurse was sitting. The hostages were still lined up against the windows. He didn’t see Y/N anywhere but knew she had to be there somewhere.

“Will someone answer that fucking phone already?” Andrew shouted. The nurse at the desk suddenly shot up from her seat and ran over to a different desk to grab the ringing phone. She spoke into the receiver momentarily, then held it to her chest.

“It’s surgery. They want to talk to Doctor Y/L/N,” she said. Andrew spun around, stalked over to some of the chairs in the waiting area, and bent down. It wasn’t until he stood up that Jensen realized it was Y/N. She must have been on the ground. Andrew dragged her to stand by her arm and shoved her over toward the phone.

“Answer the phone. Find out about Mark,” Andrew growled. Y/N stumbled toward the desk and took the phone from the nurse. She kept her back to the gunman; from her expression, Jensen saw that whatever news she was getting wasn’t good. Jensen glanced at Seb and Abel, giving them hand signals to move forward slightly but low to the ground. His gut was telling him this was about to get ugly.

Y/N hung up the phone slowly and turned to face Andrew, the gunman. Her eyes were filled with tears and sorrow for the man standing before her. His gun was being held on her, and she knew when she told him the update she was most likely going to get shot herself.

“Well? What did they say?” Andrew asked angrily.

“Andrew, you have to understand; Mark was already in a bad place when you first brought him in…” Y/N started.

“What are you saying? Are you telling me that my brother is dead??” Andrew asked incredulously, causing Y/N to whimper and startle. Tears slowly started to make their way down her cheeks as she swallowed thickly.

“He had already lost a lot of blood before you got here… and then there was an infection that started where the bullet wound went in. Moving him around with the bullet inside him did a lot of damage, too,” Y/N explained, her voice choked with tears. “We sent him up on the CPR machine, remember?”

As Y/N was explaining what happened, Andrew’s arm with the gun was drooping slightly. She thought maybe she was getting him to understand, and he would not shoot her, so she continued explaining.

“Benny did all he could to bring him back, but it was just too much for his body to handle. He died twenty minutes ago. I’m so sorry, Andrew,” Y/N said.

The next moments happened very quickly, causing panic and confusion. Andrew looked back at Y/N, lifted the gun, and fired at her. Y/N flinched, which moved her to the right, which caused the bullet to just graze the skin of her temple instead of embedding itself into her skull. The strike still caused her to fly backward and hit her head on the desk behind her, then crumpled to the ground.

All four deputies who were in the emergency room saw what was about to happen and opened fire on Andrew, hitting him in the chest and taking him down. This caused chaos among the other hostages in the waiting room area. Jensen moved up to kick the gun away from the dying suspect as his fellow deputies moved forward with him as backup.

“Jake, stay with this guy. Seb, see if any of those nurses are stable enough to help him. Jay, take the rest of the hostages to the back. I’m going to check on Y/N,” Jensen ordered his team before moving. He didn’t stop to hear them answer. Instead, he leaped over a counter and moved to where Y/N was crumpled on the floor. Just as he reached her and started to roll her over, Jensen was quickly pushed out of the way.

“I got her, Jen,” a doctor named Chris said, pushing him aside. He then rattled orders to three other people next to him, lifting her onto a gurney that appeared out of nowhere. “I need a CT scan on her head; I wanna find out if that bastard did any permanent damage!” he heard as they ran down a hallway and into an elevator.

Jensen stood and watched as they rushed her off and away from him, startling slightly as Lieutenant Singer set his hand heavily on his shoulder. Once she was out of sight, he turned and looked at Singer, then nodded before walking to rejoin his team. An investigation would be conducted on the shooting of a suspect. They would need his weapon to interview him, and he would be put on administrative leave until everything was completed. Until then, however, they had a hospital full of people and a petrified emergency room.

Y/N sat on her couch dressed in a pair of old pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt wrapped in an old, soft blanket as she stared into nothingness, thinking about what had happened that day.

Her hair was damp from the long hot shower she had taken earlier, during which she drained the hot water tank and stood under the spray. She was pretty sure Madison, who rushed over to the hospital once she was able to get in, was sitting outside the door the entire time. Once she left the bathroom, Madison took one look at her red eyes and held her for a long time before gently braiding her hair back.

Y/N had two butterfly bandages holding the small cut on her temple closed, the bruising darkening as each hour passed. The bump on the back of her head was sore but not visible, thankfully. She didn’t have a concussion, but she would have a headache for a while. Thankfully, the CT scan showed no permanent damage to her head or her brain. She’d just be bruised up and sore for a while.

She had a hard time grasping that she went in for a typical 24-hour shift at the hospital only for her day to end in the middle of a hostage situation slash shoot-out that should have killed her. A bullet was aimed directly at her head. A shudder of fear ran through her for the hundredth time that evening, causing her to close her eyes, take a deep breath, and attempt to calm her nerves. Tears once pressed against her eyelids, and she struggled to hold them back. She wasn’t ready to fall apart yet.

Madison had lit one of her favorite candles after hustling her into the shower, so the room smelled of apples and cinnamon, but it wasn’t giving her the comfort it usually did. Her relaxation playlist on the Alexa speaker wasn’t either, despite it being her usual after-shift routine. Something was missing, and she couldn’t put her finger on it yet.

“Here,” Madison said as she sat beside her on the couch. Y/N’s eyes dropped to the mug of coffee in her hand. “I know you’re not allowed any alcohol with the painkillers you’re on, so I figured coffee was the next best thing.” With a small smile, Y/N unwound her arm from around herself with the blanket and carefully took the mug with a shaky hand.

“Thanks, Mads,” she whispered. She held the mug and sipped the coffee between her hands, enjoying the sweetened warmth filling her. “You used my salted caramel creamer.”

“This was a good reason to splurge, I figured,” Madison said with a shrug. “You should try to eat something. I can order pizza?” Y/N shook her head slowly.

“I feel like if I eat something, I’m going to throw it up,” she said quietly. A knock at the door startled her, causing her to wince after. Madison glanced at the door, then back at her friend.

“I’ll get it. You stay here,” she said, standing. Y/N nodded, then sipped from her coffee once again. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the warmth, listening carefully to Madison making her way to the front door.

After taking Andrew down and getting Y/N help, it took Jensen and the rest of the SWAT team longer than expected to clear the hospital. Then, he had to go back to the office and hand over his weapon until the investigation into the shooting was completed. It was a long, tedious process that included an interview with internal affairs and a meeting with the chaplain. When he was finally done for the day, he decided to shower in the locker room so he could just head straight over to her place.

He was grateful that Madison showed up at the hospital to care for Y/N while he was still working. Given her injuries, there was no way she was going to be able to drive home, and she really shouldn’t have been left alone after what happened. The few times he texted Madison to check on Y/N, her responses weren’t encouraging, which only solidified his decision to go over and check on her in person.

He wasn’t surprised she was struggling. While Y/N was trained to handle a crisis, being held at gunpoint wasn’t exactly in the job description of an emergency room doctor. That was more his world, one he never wanted to introduce her into. Once Jensen was cleaned up, he left the sheriff’s office, stopped at his favorite Chinese food place to grab some takeout, and headed to Y/N’s place.

When Madison answered the door, Jensen frowned slightly. He expected Y/N to answer.

“Hey, Jen,” she said, smiling sympathetically at him. She stepped aside to let him in the condo. Jensen looked down the hallway before turning back to the woman with concern on his face.

“How is she?” he asked quietly. Madison locked the door and turned to face him with a shrug.

“I think she’s still in shock right now. She was crying a little earlier, but she keeps stopping herself from doing it now. I think she’s going to break down when it all hits her,” Madison said. “She’s been quiet, which isn’t like her. I’m really worried.”

“Yeah, me too,” Jensen said with a sigh. “Thanks for sitting with her until I could get here.”

“Hey, don’t thank me. I would have been here regardless,” Madison waved off his thanks.

“Why don’t you head out of here? Jared should be home by now, and we’re on administrative leave until the investigation into the shooting is done. I know he’d love to see you right now,” Jensen said, giving the woman a tight hug.

“Are you sure?” Madison asked, returning the hug.

“I’m sure. I’m not planning on going anywhere; I got her,” Jensen nodded.

“You’ll call me if you need anything?” Madison asked, pointing at him. Jensen smiled gently.

“Yeah. I’ll call if we need you,” he agreed. Madison nodded as she led the two into the living room where Y/N was sitting.

“Hey, Y/N, Jensen’s here,” she said with a smile. Y/N was resting, the coffee cup forgotten as it sat on her table; her head was in her hand, her arm leaning on the arm of the couch, and her eyes closed as her breaths remained steady. Her fingers pressed into her hair, rubbing slowly against her scalp in a light massage. Madison stepped closer to her, resting a hand on her shoulder. Y/N startled slightly, lifting her head to face the two.

“You okay?” she asked, and Y/N smiled slightly, humming. Jensen studied the woman, frowning slightly. He’d never seen her look so defeated before. Even earlier, with a gun pressed to her head, she looked confident and strong. Right then, she looked... broken.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Jensen said quietly. Blue eyes looked up at him, and after a moment of stillness, a small smile made it across her tired face.

“Jensen, hey,” she said softly, causing him to smile gently at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were here.”

“It’s okay. I brought dinner. You okay with Chinese?” he asked, holding up the bag of Chinese. Y/N’s eyes dropped down to the bag of food he had in his hand, and it didn’t smell all that appetizing.

“I’m not that hungry,” she said, looking back at him. Jensen smiled softly at her, setting the bag down.

“I’ll make a deal with you. You have some soup and maybe a little lo mein, and I won’t bug you about it the rest of the night. Doesn’t have to be a lot, but it has to be something,” he said, kneeling in front of her. Y/N frowned, looking back at the bag of food with a sigh.

“Soup counts?” she asked, returning her eyes to Jensen. He nodded.

“Soup counts,” he repeated.

“Okay,” she whispered, nodding slightly. Clearing her throat, she tried to speak louder. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get some plates.” She unfolded herself and stood, making her way toward the kitchen. Madison stepped aside to let Y/N by, using Jensen’s shoulder for balance as she made her way. Jensen stood once she was passed. The two friends then watched her walk away before Madison threw Jensen a look.

“I know. I promise I got it,” Jensen said, raising a hand before Madison could say anything. “Jared is waiting for you at home. Go.” Madison nodded and walked into the kitchen behind Y/N.

Jensen started pulling the food out of the bag and setting the boxes on the coffee table. When Y/N returned from the kitchen carrying the dishes and flatware, Jensen stood and took the items from her.

“What would you like to drink?” Y/N asked quietly. “I have some beer and soda. There’s still some coffee left that Madison made.” Jensen smiled softly at her and gently guided her to sit.

“I know where everything is. Why don’t you get comfortable, and I’ll grab us some sodas?” he said. She thanked him and sat back on the couch, pulling one of her blankets around herself. Jensen walked into the kitchen and pulled two sodas out of the fridge. He carried them back to the living room, setting them on the table while watching Y/N as she stared out the window. Jensen sat down next to her and reached an arm behind her.

“Hey,” he muttered quietly to get her attention. Y/N turned and looked at him, blinking away the distant look in her eyes. “Tell me what you need.”

“I’m fine,” she said, dropping her eyes and sighing. “I’m just…” she started. She trailed off and shook her head.

“Just what?” Jensen asked. Instead of answering him with words, she simply shifted her body to face him and ducked her head so she could lay it on his shoulder. Jensen pulled her closer to him, moving her legs so they laid over his and he could cradle her against his chest. This allowed him to start running his hand up and down her back. After a bit of silence, her hushed voice caught his attention.

“I keep thinking about what we could have done differently,” she muttered quietly. Jensen frowned. “I knew there was nothing we were going to be able to do to save his brother just by examining him. He waited too long to get him to us. I was able to get him to put the gun away long enough for us to try, but when we had to pull the LUCAS out… Surgery was a long shot, but we needed to try?”

“Yeah,” Jensen muttered under his breath, his voice rough.

“But then we were waiting, and things just got…” she trailed off again, shaking her head. “Nothing I was saying to him was making a difference. I knew it was only a matter of time before his patience wore out and he was going to start killing people. Then, when we got word that his brother died… I just knew.”

“You knew what?” he asked softly.

“That he was going to kill me,” she replied. Jensen’s arms tightened around her.

“What you did in that hospital, keeping your head… talking to him like you did… that was exactly right. It was the right thing to do,” Jensen explained. Y/N shook her head, her eyes downcast.

“You did everything right, sweetheart,” Jensen reiterated.

“Then why did he still try to kill me?” Y/N asked after a moment of silence. Jensen sighed heavily, his heart hurting badly for this woman in his arms.

“Because sometimes, even though you did the right thing, the bad guys don’t care and still react violently. Sometimes they just want to hurt others like they were hurt,” he said quietly. Y/N’s eyes started to fill with tears once again, against her will.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, tears breaking free and running down her cheeks.

“I know you didn’t,” he reassured.

“Those people he killed didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I know.”

“I was trying to help him; I wanted to save his brother.”

“I know you did.”

“I tried to save him; we all tried to save him…”

“I know,” Jensen said, hushing her as she began to cry earnestly. “You did everything you could, and it’s not your fault. Andrew should have realized that. You’re safe now, and he can’t hurt you anymore. I won’t let anything hurt you anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered as she sobbed.

“It’s okay, don’t apologize. I’d be worried if you weren’t upset,” Jensen said, pressing his lips to her temple. He held her close as she cried herself out. When finished, she lifted her head and wiped her eyes, glancing at the man who held her close.

“Better?” Jensen asked, wiping the tears from Y/N’s face with the thumb of one hand. Y/N nodded a little, sniffling a bit. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m not that hungry,” she admitted.

“Hey, you agreed to try. It doesn’t have to be a lot, but you need to put something in your stomach,” Jensen said, cradling her head. She lifted her sad blue eyes to meet his tender green ones.

“Okay,” she muttered.

“Okay,” Jensen repeated, pressing a kiss to her forehead. He then reached over to the food and grabbed two of the Styrofoam containers with soup in them. He carefully opened the lid of one of them and handed it to her. She smiled gently and sipped the soup.

“Let’s find something we can watch on TV, okay?”

Jensen didn’t want to leave Y/N alone; she wanted to stay in case she needed someone or something. She argued, saying she’d be okay, but he knew better. As they watched television, Y/N fell into a doze on Jensen’s shoulder while clinging to the blanket around her shoulders.

“Do you want to watch another episode?” Jensen asked, looking over at her. “Y/N?” That’s when he noticed her closed eyes. A gentle smile fell across his face as he watched her sleep. Moving carefully, he lifted her into his arms. The blanket wrapped around her fell away as he carried her across the living room, down the hallway, and into her bedroom. Thankfully, her bed was rumpled from a nap she had taken earlier, so he could lay her down and cover her with the sheet and comforter she had there. He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Good night, beautiful,” he said quietly before leaving the room.

With an arm behind his head, Jensen was dozing on the couch as he rested on a few of Y/N’s throw pillows. Y/N’s scream had him leaping and running to her bedroom. He opened the door he had closed earlier to find her sitting in bed with one hand pressed to the side of her head. She seemed to be trying to get away from something or someone, Jensen thought as he watched her sob. He frowned as he walked into the room and calmly hushed her.

“Hey,” he said quietly. “Hey, hey, hey, shhhh…. It’s okay. You’re safe,” he muttered.

“He’s gonna kill me,” she bawled, shaking her head and then whimpering. He was sure she was in pain with how she was holding her head.

“Okay, okay, come here,” Jensen said, pulling the blankets back. She launched herself into his arms once she was free of the blankets. He caught her with a soft ‘oof,’ the weight unexpected, but once he had his arms secured around her, he sat on her bed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered, his heart aching for her. He situated himself so his back was against the headboard, and Y/N rested against him. She ended up in his lap, her legs straddling his hips while her head rested on his shoulder with her face pressed into his neck. Jensen wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, gently placing a hand on her head and massaging his fingers against her scalp. Her tears ran down his neck to his shirt, causing him to pull her closer.

“I’ve got you,” Dean said gently. “I won’t let anything happen to you ever again.” Without moving her from against him, he reached down and grabbed her blanket and wrapped it up in it, offering warmth and comfort. Once he was happy with how they were situated, he turned his head and kissed her forehead. Having her in his arms like this, with her crying, was wrecking him.

“God, Y/N…I thought I lost you forever,” he whispered against her, her sobs quiet but intense. He knew she didn’t hear him; it wasn’t for her. His heart screamed at him, hurting at how this could have turned out. It took a long time for her to calm down, and Jensen held her and rubbed her scalp the entire time. Once her sobs subsided, the room was quiet, aside from a sniffle here and there. They remained like that for a long time.

“I thought I was going to die today,” she muttered, her voice clogged with tears and terror. Jensen tightened his arms around her, pulling her impossibly closer. He turned his head to press his lips against her temple and closed his eyes against the onslaught of emotions that raged inside of him.

“He’s dead, right?” she asked worriedly, pulling her head away so she could look at him. Jensen looked over her face, noticing the bruising on her temple had gotten worse. The bandages and wounds on her delicate skin practically glowed in the dim light of her bedroom. He gently brushed a few strands of hair sticking to her cheek from the tears behind her ear as he nodded slightly.

“Yeah,” he grunted, clearing his throat before speaking again. “Yeah, he’s dead. He’s not going to hurt you again.” Y/N nodded slightly, looking down. “Hey. You’re safe. I promise. I’m here and won’t let anything happen to you.” Y/N nodded her head before laying back down against his shoulder. Jensen cradled the back of her head with his hand, holding her there, resting his head on top of hers gently.

“Thank you for saving my life,” she whispered after a long silent pause. Jensen shut his eyes against another onslaught of emotion, swallowing hard. He pulled his head back to look at her.

“You’ll never have to thank me for that,” he said, eyes studying the woman in his arms. “When I saw him come out with you, I almost shot him right then. I never want you to be in a situation like that again.”

“You gonna become my bodyguard?” Y/N asked, a bit of humor creeping into her voice.

“I don’t think you understand, Y/N. You’ve become the most important person in my life,” Jensen explained. Y/N lifted her head to stare at him as he spoke, her wide eyes watery. Jensen stared back at her, more severe than he had ever been with her. “I was so angry when I realized that you were in there with that maniac. I wasn’t going to stop at anything to get you out of there safely, and when you got hurt…”

“It wasn’t your fault, Jen,” Y/N whispered. Jensen shook his head, his own eyes getting misty. The following words were out before he could stop himself.

“If anything were to happen to you… I don’t know what I would have done. I’m so in love with you, Y/N. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, and that asshole almost took you away from me,” he explained, resting his forehead gently against hers. Y/N’s breath caught at his admission.

“Jen… I love you, too. I think I have for a long time now,” she admitted. Jensen pulled back and stared into Y/N’s eyes, searching. Once he found whatever he sought, he gently pressed his mouth to hers in a passionate but modest kiss. Y/N tried to deepen it, moving her hands to his neck and fingers to his hair, but he pulled back.

“No. Not now,” he explained gently. Y/N frowned, hurt. “You’re hurting and need to take some painkillers. I know your head hurts you. And honestly, I just really want to hold you for a while. I almost lost you. I thought I lost you.”

“Does that mean you’ll stay?” Y/N asked timidly. Jensen nodded her head.”

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” he said quietly. Y/N nodded. “Where are your pain medications?”

“They’re right here,” she said, facing her nightstand. She picked up one of the three prescription bottles sitting there, and Jensen took it. He opened it and shook out one of the large pills into her open hand. She then reached over for the bottle of water to swallow down the pill before taking the prescription bottle and setting both back on her nightstand.

“Let’s get some rest, beautiful,” Jensen whispered. Y/N nodded as she laid her head back down on his shoulder. After a while, the two adjusted their positions so that they were lying down instead of sitting up against the headboard.

That was where Madison found them the following day. She smiled wistfully as she called out to Jared and waved him over to the doorway to Y/N’s bedroom. There, lying in her bed, was Jensen with Y/N curled beside him. Her head was still on his shoulder, her hand gripping the shirt he had on tightly. Jensen wrapped his arm around her waist, the other cradling her head against him, his face turned toward her as his lips pressed to her forehead. The two onlookers smiled softly at the two.

“She must have had a bad night,” Madison whispered, leaning against Jared.

“It’s nice to see them finally together, too,” Jared muttered quietly, kissing Madison’s head.

“Wonder how long till we are planning their wedding,” Madison gleefully whispered as she closed the bedroom door. It was quiet for a long moment, then…

“We’re gonna elope if I have anything to say about it,” Jensen whispered, smirking.

“We’ll do it at one of those tropical resorts in the Caribbean. It’s still kind of eloping, but I still get to dress up, and we still get pictures and flowers and shit,” Y/N said under her breath as she snuggled against him. Jensen tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

“Okay, I like that idea better,” he sighed.

“This is why I’m the smart one, and you’re the pretty one,” she replied with a soft giggle. He huffed at that comment.

“You’ll pay for that later. Go back to sleep.”

“Kay.”

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snarksalon · 17 days

Text

In Defence of Tsuyu....

The Hospital scene is, I think, one of the most misinterpreted scenes in the series and it fuelled a lot of Tsuyu hate. The scene is written clumsily, but the underlying point that Tsuyu is making isn't naive. Tsuyu is commenting on the separation between law and morality and demonstrating that the two in many circumstances may not overlap.

In Hero Society, both heroes and Villains exert force over the general population. The distinction is that Heroes are authorised to do so by law and submit themselves to a regime of laws that designate when they are permitted to exercise their powers. Heroes effectively operate in a similar vein to cops, soldiers, et cetera. In Hero Society, Heroes form a branch of the criminal justice system, which is important to note. Restrictions on Cops, Lawyers and Judges exist to ensure that the rule of law is respected and maintained. Often, nebulous moral questions arise. Take for example a police officer who decides to obtain evidence illegally due to their own belief in the guilt of a defendant. Even if the defendant was guilty, the police officer has exercised substantial impropriety and interfered with the defendant's opportunity to receive a fair trial.

There are also instances where a breach of a legal rule is indicative of criminal conduct. Many might claim that it is morally correct for a parent to lie on the stand to prevent their child from being convicted as parents generally have a duty to protect their children. This does not negate that the conduct is criminal and misleads the court. Obviously, there is substantial nuance here, but the point is that Tsuyu is highlighting the fact that a disparity exists between moral and legal obligations.

In Hero Society, Villains disregard the law. Of course, laws exist on spectrums and Jaywalking cannot be equated to Robbery (I do agree that Tsuyu is making a massive false equivalence in the panel). I think Tsuyu saying this post Stain Arc, is a realistic reflection of how she would feel following Stain's ideology becoming widespread. The Stain arc, demonstrates that some heroes are corrupt and directly calls into question the commitments of Heroes to moral good. Tsuyu makes this statement at a time when public scrutiny against Heroes is ESPECIALLY high, and where the boundary between Heroes and Villains is being contested. Later in the story Tsuyu's position on the matter changes, but this perspective was not an unreasonable or ill-conceived conceptualisation of the distinction between Heroes and Villains.

It is also reasonable that Tsuyu advises against taking action. One failure of the Kamino arc is the lack of consequences. Yes, All Might loses his powers but I think letting all of those who go to rescue Bakugo get away unscathed seriously lowered the stakes of the story. Class 1-A are first-year students and are relatively untrained. Even if they are being evasive, they should struggle against the leadership of the League of Villains. Out of all of Hori's writing failures, Kamino has always stuck with me. The rescue group put on objectively terrible disguises and Bakugo manages to hold his own quite successfully.

It is easier to critique Tsuyu's words because of a lack of consequence. If a member of the team had died or been seriously injured, no one would have taken issue with her objections. I think Kamino was a missed opportunity to raise the stakes in the Manga and to build upon the ideas raised in Stain's Arc. This is why Tsuyu's words fall flat, and why her subsequent rant makes little sense.

This scene feels futile and pointless because there are NO consequences for their breach of the law. There isn't even a close call. Hori could have directly linked All Mights Demise to the rescue team messing up or being in the wrong place at the wrong time or generally being inexperienced. OBVIOUSLY, Tsuyu makes an incorrect equivalence but it is something which contains an interesting point and is completely mismanaged by Hori.

Tsuyu isn't wrong to criticise a decision made by her classmates, it is a decision that is reckless and could have endangered others. The rescue team knew nothing of the pro-heroes strategy to recover Bakugo and could have jeopardised that mission entirely. She also isn't wrong for reminding them that as Professional Heroes they are obliged to follow the law and may only use their powers when authorised. Though her delivery is blunt, and the equivalence is clunky (I blame Hori's writing here), she is making apt commentary on the limits of power.

#tsuyu asui #mha #mha analysis #my thoughts #lowkey unhinged #but i had to get this off my chest #Tsuyu #ochako uraraka #bnha #bnha spoilers #my hero academia #boku no hero academia

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workingclasshistory · 1 year

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On this day, 15 April 1989, the Hillsborough disaster took place during an FA Cup semi-final between Liverpool and Nottingham Forest when a crush occurred after police directed fans into overcrowded areas, resulting in 96 dead and over 700 injured. Though it was caused by police negligence and a ground which did not adequately meet health and safety standards, the police and the Conservative government, with help from the mainstream media, concocted an entirely false story blaming working class Liverpool fans for the disaster. The right-wing tabloid Sun newspaper falsely claimed that Liverpool fans robbed the dead, urinated on police and attacked officers who were trying to save lives. After years of campaigning by the families of the victims, eventually in 2012 the truth finally came to light, with the Hillsborough Independent Panel determining that the primary cause of the disaster was a "lack of police control". They also revealed that police had doctored 164 witness statements, that Conservative MP Irvine Patnick had passed lies from the police to the press. The police also went to extreme lengths in their attempts shift responsibility to the victims, even testing the blood of dead children for alcohol to try to blame them for their own deaths. New inquests held in 2016 also found that the crush was caused by police, exacerbated by stadium defects. They determined that the senior police officer responsible breached his duty of care and that this amounted to gross negligence. They determined that the 96 victims were unlawfully killed. To this day, many people in Liverpool still boycott The Sun. More information, sources and map: https://stories.workingclasshistory.com/article/8641/hillsborough-disaster https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=609058297934056&set=a.602588028581083&type=3

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not-goldy · 1 month

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I just want to be honest and speak without being emotional and biased towards bts , like yg have the opportunity to go to his home everyday and I'm sure he can work on his music from home and do the military duty as office job while the other boys especially jm jk and jin really being living in nowhere they can't even breath freely they working their ass off to go through that fouking serving shit , and still he managed to ruin it for himself he could have a 100 drivers and they could drive him home with the most expensive cars or go with taxi but he himself make the decision the media maybe take it to far but this what media do all over the world , army love to always make it like kmedia do it just for bts but this is what they do for everyone like I remember not so long they make a big deal of gdragon being drunk even though his tests was clean and they bring him to court and in the end he was really clean , yg going to the police station is not the big deal that army claims , he did wrong while he is serving and they question his behaviour and thats it , they should keep it Low and doesn't give it to much attention instead of cutting k media including jin up coming shows !!!! Like how they work !! jin working on this shows since the day he discharged and now army want to sacrifices His work for another member's bad decision while hyping western media that just last month have being shady towards jm and they have always been shady towards bts , dropping jm music and using his funds for useless movement , I just want army for once to forget their own prideful mindset and just shut up

I don't think you're saying this because you hate Yoongi. If you do my BS detector isn't picking it up.

And I understand your point of view and where you're coming from.

I just want to say Yoongi isn't doing his service this way because he is privileged. He was injured had surgery and couldn't go through that rigorous harsh system the others are going through.

Jin is brave and strong for conquering that and moving on with his life. Now the government has nothing on him.

The others will be free eventually too.

I think Yoongi should have been exempted all together. Jimin has chronic back pains and BTS as a group deserved an exemption.

Personally I think the laws in Korea are too strict and paternalistic but that's besides the point.

As for Army, I think they are doing what any Fandom would do- support and attack and defend. How big this thing gets, how much people speak against it, how much media attention and international attention it gets can either help or hurt his situation.

If they aren't being fair to him it shall be met with such worldwide condemnation it will push foreskin off dicks. That's the power of Army and the beauty of having amassed such following.

It would be strange if the Fandom went silent and watched this whole thing unfold don't you think??

People are just worried about him that's all. I'm actually worried too cos I feel this whole hing has been blown out of proportion. Any person in that situation perhaps would have been slapped with a warning but like you said because I a kpop idol and a member of BTS people wanna scapegoat him.

People want to humiliate BTS so bad they want humble them and some higher ups want a leash around their neck and will go after them for anything.

And they are falling out of favor with the sky man thems so if I feel they should all be careful how they move.

I know he screwed up, didn't think this whole situation will escalate but I also feel he is prepared to face the law. Actually, you know what? I'm gonna go ahead and research the law on this to understand the situation much better cause I'm hating this every second I write about it.

I think falling off a scooter in front of his own apartment when he wasn't even driving on the road and putting his life and the other's life at risk- is crazy how far this whole thing has gotten. Crazy

Just hope he is doing alright and is prepared mentally for all of this cos from his pov it would seem like everything he has spent his entire career to build is coming crashing i hate it here

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chiefdirector · 8 months

Text

Wounded | Angela Lopez | The Rookie

Despite it going against at least fifty rules, Angela couldn’t help herself. Sure it wasn’t illegal or anything but it just felt wrong. Grey had gone one hundred and one times about fraternising with people within the department, let alone with people within the precinct but she couldn't help herself. God, she really wished she had listened.

Of course, deep down she knew that it wasn’t her fault but that knowledge didn't stop the guilt from rising up every chance it got, haunting her like a ghost. Although she knew that wasn’t the only thing haunting her, the image of her wife, laid right in front of her so still that Angela almost thought that she was asleep, or she would have if she wasn’t drenched in her own blood.

The bullet wound embedded in Detective (Y/N) (L/N)’s side plagued Angela’s thoughts, both waking and asleep. Every time she closed her eyes she saw it. Every moment of silence all she could hear was her wife’s cries of agony, begging for someone to make it stop. Every peaceful moment Lopez had was burdened by the memory that she was powerless to help (Y/N) in the moment she needed her most.

She had fundamentally failed her.

The universe had chosen them to come together.

(Y/N) had moved to the Mid-Wilshire precinct from Hollywood when her patrol partner had passed away in the line of duty. She was up for promotion, the detectives in her department had given her the tap pretty early into her career. The move made sense, she would get a fresh start, rebuild the confidence she had lost whilst not being tied down as the officer who shouldn’t have survived.

If only she had known that title would come back and follow her with a vengeance.

Their relationship blossomed quickly after they had met. Initially they had sworn themselves to secrecy, knowing how much grief they could have been subjected to but it didn’t take long for their colleagues to learn about their relationship. Grey, after a lot of convincing (and some begging on (Y/N)’ end) had signed them both off to work in the same station, as long as Lopez never came directly under (Y/N)’ command. Romantic relationships had a lot more protections than most others, especially in police work.

Lopez and (L/N) tended to move in sync, knowing what the other needs without even asking. When one moves, so does the other, like magnets. The benefits of having a pair like them was exceptional, until one would fall. So Lopez and (L/N) were split up, rarely working together unless it was the last option available. The liability of having one of them injured whilst the other was near was far too high. It wasn't worth the risk.

Angela thought the rules were a load of shit.

It was only when Angela saw (Y/N) lying there, bleeding out, did she truly realise why the rules were the way they were, why they were so strict, and why she shouldn't have been on that operation that day.

It was her ignorance that had caused Jule to turn around and move towards her, trying to protect Angela from harm, subsequently fating herself to the suffering intended for Lopez.

—----

The hospital was cold.

The sterile white walls pressed into Angela as she sat in the waiting room, Bradford and Grey by her side as they waited for any news on (Y/N)’ condition. The hustle and bustle of doctors, nurses, and patients alike barely registered in Lopez’s mind as she sat in the far to firm chair, staring at the floor. She had counted the floor tiles in the room six times before she registered that Tim had stepped out to get the three of them coffee.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, watching the world go by. It simultaneously felt like seconds and decades. She watched as families joined in her waiting and then left again. She listened to their cries of joy and the wails of anguish. All of the chatter and noise eventually fell into a quiet hum in the back of her mind as she counted the tiles on the floor once more.

It was the gentle tap of Sargent Grey that brought her crashing back to reality again. She snapped her head up at him, before searching around the room to see another surgeon standing at the doorway, a char in hand and a solemn look adorning his face.

“Family of (Y/N) (L/N)?” The surgeon called out again. Angela shot up from her seat at an almost inhuman speed. She swallowed down her nervousness as she approached him, now was not the time to be afraid, not when she could lose anything. She could be afraid in private.

“Yes,” she croaked out, wincing at how hoarse her voice sounded. Quickly, she coughed to clear her throat, “that’s me.”

“There were some complications during surgery. Ms. (L/N) had some severe internal bleeding that was not caught until later in the process and by that time it-”

The surgeon's voice droned out of Angela’s mind, becoming another noise in the background as she tried to process the words. She was no doctor but she knew that internal bleeding was never good. And with all the blood she had lost even before she had gotten to the hospital.

Every single possibility rushed through her mind as she fruitlessly tried to stabilise her breathing. This couldn’t be happening, not now. Not to her. The guilt sprung forth in her mind tenfold, Angela knew it should be her in that position, not her (Y/N). Anyone but her (Y/N).

“Ms. Lopez. Do you understand what I am saying?”

For the second time in five minutes, Angela snapped back into reality, this time she was hyper focussed on the surgeon in front of her.

“What?” she said, her voice still meek.

“Ms. (L/N) is currently in recovery in the ICU.” The surgeon looked down at the officer, seemingly annoyed by her lack of presence when he spoke the first time, “she is ot conscious and due to the numerous complications, we do not have an estimate as to when she will wake up; if she will even wake up.”

“But she’s alive?”

“Yes, you can go up and see her shortly. The nurses are just cleaning her up from the surgery.”

Angela let out a breath she didn't know that she was holding at the doctor's words. She was alive. (Y/N) had made it through the surgery and she was alive. Angela could keep hoping and praying for her recovery because there was a chance that she could recover. There was a chance that she would wake up, that she would heal, that she would go home. There was a chance that she would live.

(Y/N) survived and now she had a chance, and Anegla knew that was enough.

Masterlist

@augustvandyne

#angela lopez #angela lopez x reader #the rookie x reader #the rookie #angela lopez imagine

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wraithchic · 3 months

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Hii! Can i request rosa diaz x fem doctor reader wherein they are dating and one day reader suddenly sees rosa in the hospital (confined due to an injury during a chase) and the rest is up to u!!

Heyy. Thanks for being my first request!

Anyways, I'm not used to established relationships so this might be kind of weird but I hope you enjoy it.

EHR=Electronic Health Record

Healing Touch

Ship: Rosa Díaz x doctor!reader

Wordcount: 538

Working in the ER is not an easy job; it’s a whirlwind of long shifts, high pressure, and barely any breaks. The relentless pace can be exhausting, and the emotional toll can sometimes be overwhelming. Yet, despite the challenges, it fulfills me in ways I could never have imagined. Each day, I am reminded of why I chose this path.

Being a doctor was my lifelong dream. From a young age, I knew I wanted to dedicate my life to helping others. The journey to get here was long and arduous, filled with years of rigorous study, sleepless nights, and countless sacrifices. But every moment was worth it. Being an emergency pediatrician is all I ever wanted.

Now I’m standing in the middle of the ER on a Friday night. Fridays are always the busiest nights. The rooms are filled with victims of road accidents, drunks, sick kids and junkies trying to get some prescription drugs.

I hear my name being paged, in the busy shifts I usually help with older patients, even if that’s not my specialty. Alex, one of the nurses, filled me in in the situation: a group of police officers ambushed a drug deal and they were met with a barrage of gunfire. Chaos erupted, and several officers were injured.

My heart starts to beat faster and I suddenly feel nauseous. My girlfriend, Rosa, didn’t answer my last two calls and now it makes sense, she may be injured. So, I check the EHR, there I find her: Rosa Díaz | Room 765 |Bullet Wound

A tear threatens to fall from my eyes as I struggle to keep my emotions in check. The feeling of powerlessness weighs heavily on my shoulders, but I know I need to remain professional. I force myself to focus on my duties, pacing around the rooms, checking on each patient, and tending to their needs with as much care and attention as I can muster. The busywork helps to distract me, but the knot in my stomach only tightens as I approach Room 765.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. This is the room I've been dreading, the one that holds the person who means the most to me. Summoning all my courage, I finally open the door and step inside.

There I find her, she had bandages around her torso, she lifts herself from the stretcher and winces from the pain. I walk faster to be by her side.

- “Are you okay? I mean, how do you feel?” – I brush her cheek lightly with the back of my hand.

- “Yeah, yeah. I just have one extra hole on my body.” – She chuckles but I don’t find it particularly humorous.

- “Glad to see the wound is purely physical, then.” – I smile.

-” Well Ms. Doctor, know that you mention it. I there’s a light pain on my lips, and I think a kiss would make me feel better.” – I smile wider and inch closer to her face.

- “Oh, Officer Díaz, that would be highly unprofessional and unethical on my part bec…” – That’s as far as I got on my ironically professional speech before Rosa graved my neck and connected our lips.

#rosa diaz #rosa diaz x reader #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #hospital setting #reader insert #doctor!reader #short fic

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girlactionfigure · 6 months

Text

🔅Wed morning - ISRAEL REALTIME - Connecting to Israel in Realtime

( Update 1 of 2 )

🔻AIR ATTACKS..

.. North - Hezbollah

ROCKETS at Gesher HaZiv, Nahariya, Sa'ar, Hanita, Ya'ara, Metzuba, Shlomi, Betzet, Lehman

ROCKETS at Margaliot

ROCKETS at Even Menachem, Zarit, Netua, Fassuta, Shomera, Shtula

ROCKETS at Alkosh, Matat, Netua, Fassuta, Hurfeish

Interceptions without alarm reported over the Kinerret

.. South East - Iranian Shia Militias of Iraq

SUICIDE DRONE at Kushi Rimon

.. South West - Hamas

ROCKETS at Kissufim

▪️TERROR - KOCHAV YAIR.. ramming attack - 4 policemen were injured and the terrorist was shot dead.

▪️VIOLENT ANTI-GOVT PROTESTS JERUSALEM.. MK Zeev Elkin: Hard pictures in Jerusalem. There is no place for breaking the law and harming the police! There is no place for police violence and excessive use of force! Please stop! We are not enemies to each other. Hamas, Hezbollah, Iran are the enemies! We are in the middle of a war against a murderous enemy who wants to destroy all of us, the supporters of the government and its opponents.

Head of Shin Bet.. “The violent discourse on the Internet and some of the scenes we saw tonight in Jerusalem, go beyond the accepted rules of protest, harm the ability to maintain public order, may lead to violent friction with the security forces, hinder them from fulfilling their duties and even harm secure individuals.

There is a clear line between a legitimate protest and a violent and illegal protest. This is a worrisome trend that may lead to dangerous areas that should not be reached."

And our enemy watches Al Jazeera and laughs.

▪️IDEAS.. Head of Yisrael Beitenu, former Minister of Defense, MK Avigdor Lieberman:

"The Israeli government must make two immediate decisions:

1. In the security field, there is no justification for purchasing aircraft for a total amount of approximately NIS 35 billion. It is impossible for militias in sandals to be able to launch cruise missiles and UAVs (suicide drones) towards Israel, while in order to attack in Yemen, the Israel needs to put an entire squadron into the air for a flight thousands of kilometers south.

Therefore, instead of purchasing airplanes for approximately 35 billion shekels, you can purchase airplanes for approximately 20 billion shekels, and invest 10 billion shekels in establishing an effective missile force that will meet the security challenges, and five billion shekels to strengthen the land army.

2. In the economic field, we must immediately bring to Israel about a quarter of a million foreign workers, who are needed in the construction, industry, agriculture and hotel industries.

After almost half a year of war, it's time to change mindsets.”

( Update 2 of 2 )

🔻AIR ATTACKS..

.. North - Hezbollah

ROCKETS at Alkosh, Matat, Netua, Fassuta, Hurfeish

▪️CEASEFIRE LEAKS.. The Lebanese Al Mayadeen from a "senior source in the resistance": The new proposal submitted by Israel today does not provide an answer to the main issues that Hamas insists on and therefore there is no progress in the talks.

Al-Arabiya: Israel showed some flexibility proposing establishing 3 safe crossings to the north of the strip, but demanded health checks on the hostages in return.

▪️MORE INFO ON ARAVAH DRONE ATTACK.. At around 1 a.m., a suspected drone flying from the eastern direction entered Israeli airspace in the Arabah region, just north of Eilat, according to the IDF.

The "suspicious aerial target" set off sirens at a popular roadside store in the area.

The IDF says it fired an interceptor missile at the target, although it is not clear if it was shot down. (Fabien)

▪️MORE INFO ON THE RAMMING ATTACK.. a 26-year-old man from the Arab city of Tira rammed his vehicle into four cops near the town of Kochav Yair, police say. One of the officers was seriously wounded.

The assailant then fled to a nearby West Bank checkpoint, where he allegedly tried to stab the guards there. The guards at the Eliyahu Crossing returned fire, killing the suspect.

His family: our son has mental disorders. It was not on a nationalistic basis.

▪️IRANIAN SHIA MILITIA SAYS ATTACKED HAIFA? The Shia militias in Iraq claim: We attacked the airport in Haifa early in the morning with a UAV. No such attack.

▪️PASSOVER ECONOMY.. Min. Of Economy found a 32% gap between expensive and discount grocery chains on the ‘average basket of Passover foods’. It also noted an overall 4% increase from last year.

#Israel #October 7 #Hamas Massacre #Gaza #Israel/HamasWar #Real Time Updates

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watermelonsloth · 4 months

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naruto was the hokage but shikamaru was the one running konoha all the time, so it was like naruto wasn't really the hokage but the face. he was there to fight and play the hero but never to run anyone. he would just say “put the police at my house on watch” but nothing else (he's the ninja with the best sensory abilities in the world but the poor guy couldn't handle it).

a hokage needs to be someone outside to protect the village like the trump card. no one chooses a weak hokage no matter how good a leader he may be, he needs to have some defensive skills. that's why they even have two assistants/advisors. for naruto it was shikamaru the main one and then shizune who lived for two reigns, but shizune was removed to put her as sakura's assistant instead.

a hokage needs to be a konoha shinobi and needs to go through all ninja stages genin (beginner), chunin (team leaders above average ninja) and jonin (military large scale leaders and elite ninja). naruto left, he's good a talk-no-jutsu and he wanted to surpass the other kage and be acknowledged and he did.

shikamaru, sakura, rock lee, neji (rip), temari and hanabi, the main konoha jonin have these skills. team ebisu too but they're frauds who are very weak.

shikamaru made it to jonin which means he's cut out for military level leadership, so hundreds and thousands of people. he is made to lead others to victory, to save people if his friends help him with their combat capabilities. that is why he is an excellent advisor, he relies on others while he's the mastermind.

idk if you read boruto but having a weak hokage is the reason why konoha is doing so extremely bad right now. shikamaru is an amazing leader, the best in konoha, but he is physically weak and in real combat he is useless unless he already knows his enemy's abilities and has some good teammates to help him. he should have stayed as advisor and have the hokage be kakashi again or better sakura, who has the most powerful defensive ability in the world with katsuyu (the village will be destroyed pain level).

sasuke is a good choice. he has been a good leader of taka, he's the strongest shinobi in the world next to naruto and he's also leader material but only in battle. sasuke doesn't have the patience to talk to daimyo or do business, inaugurate a building, take pictures, etc. he fights for others but he is not cut out to lead an evacuation without jumping right into the action. he's not cut out for a chair either, neither were naruto or kakashi for that matter (kakashi always begged to leave his office). they're men of action.

he would be great if he also wasn't too haunted by his previous ideals of what hokage meant and moved forward (kishimoto's sasuke would move on) but he's also the kind of man that wouldn't do it alone unless it's with naruto or his teammates, like he does now as shadow hokage.

and while sakura is also a woman of action, she's more cut out to be hokage. not just because her two masters are hokage, but also because her training and her lifestyle are more suited for combat and office duties. she's used to working in a hospital since she finished her training with tsunade and was already vaunted as the top 3 as a teenager, to handling tsunade's paperwork while she was hokage, to being present in the office when important matters had to be discussed and giving her opinion, she founded her own mental health clinic so she knows how to handle for the public, etc.

she also made it to jonin, the only k12 with shikamaru and rock lee, which contrary to her chunin comrades who lead small teams of 4 to 5 shinobi, the three are military leaders. sakura is one of 4 (counting temari) who can lead and protect a village. they're large scale leaders and sakura was already aiding shizune handle the several injured in her camp, and when she was promoted she was already leading teams of medics she chose on her own. she's currently the head of a whole department and a hospital full of people. she's leading a mini konoha inside the walls of the hospital, inside her office but also acting on her duties herself.

also, kishimoto said of team 7 sakura would be the best instructor.

I’m gonna assume that this is a response to my post about Naruto not being a good leader and that you sent this as an ask because you wanted a response of some kind. If not, feel free to ignore this.

Here are my ramblings about the Hokage and what I think makes a good one.

Just to make my thought process easier to understand, I’m gonna do a quick rundown of what I interpret the responsibilities of the Hokage to be. (Keep in mind, I’m taking this from the Naruto manga, a little from Boruto, and nothing from the novels.) Because I’m American and this is the easiest way for me to wrap my head around how the village works, I think of the Hokage as being a mix of the shogun from when Japan had shogunates and the president. So, basically: they have full or mostly full control of the military, they (theoretically) answer to the daimyo, they don’t make or pass laws but they play a large role in enforcing them, they aren’t diplomats but they are expected to maintain relations and support major political alliances, they are public figures both to represent Konoha/the Land of Fire and to act as deterrents to war (and thus can’t be pushovers in skill or personality), they decide how dissenters are dealt with, they’re responsible for maintaining national security, they command forces during war time, they stay in the village to protect it against threat, etc. etc. etc.

TL;DR A good Hokage is someone who’s good at politics, a skilled military commander, and isn’t someone people want to fuck with.

For the most part, the Hokage fit this well.

Hashirama is a charismatic leader who was commanding the Senju clan for who knows how long before building the village, and he’s so strong that he can get away with his goofball antics. Plus, we know from his fight against Madara at the Valley of the End that he is not a pushover, knows when it’s time to get serious, and is absolutely not afraid to be ruthless.

Tobirama is Tobirama. He’s far from being a pushover, seems like a Lyndon-Johnson-esque political leader who’s willing to step on a few toes and use intimidation if he deems it necessary, has about as much experience as a shinobi as Hashirama and likely acted as a general during the warring states era, and even if he isn’t as strong as his brother, he’s still smart enough and has enough variety in his skillset that most shinobi aren’t gonna want to fight him.

Hiruzen is liked by the people of Konoha (and probably the daimyo) and is strong enough to protect the village in case of an emergency. However, it also seems like he isn’t a good leader and doesn’t bring the intimidation factor a Hokage should (at least from what we’ve seen, this could’ve been different when he was in his prime). I think he got away with lacking in those areas for three reasons: 1. Konoha had many jounin/rising shinobi who were more competent leaders than him (the three sannin, Sakumo, Minato, Fugaku, Shikaku, etc.) who could cover for his failings on the field. 2. Hiruzen was following Hashirama and Tobirama (two stronger and much more intimidating Hokage), so villages would’ve been hesitant about messing with Konoha even if Hiruzen wasn’t a walking deterrent like they were. 3. Danzo covered his weaknesses (say what you want about him, but Danzo was the head of anbu, knew how to get what he wanted, and had enough of a presence that even Tsunade didn’t want to get in his way too much).

I think I’ve made my point enough that I don’t need to get into Minato and Tsunade, so let’s get back on topic and talk about the characters you brought up.

I’ve already mentioned that I don’t think Naruto would make a good Hokage. He’s definitely strong enough that defending the village/intimidating other nations wouldn’t be a problem and with some more maturing I can see him being able to act as a political figure, but I’ve already said that he isn’t much of a leader and I doubt he’ll ever not get restless being cooped up in the village doing the day-to-day work.

When it comes to Sasuke, I think that he could be Hokage since he meets all of the requirements, but he wouldn’t be the best because of his personality. I think he could be a reasonably good public figure and handle the more tedious parts of being Hokage fine, if he thought they were important. If he thought they were necessary or would have a positive impact, he could do all of those things fine; but he probably wouldn’t bother with them at all if he didn’t see the point. There’s also a problem with what he would find important because, like Naruto, he tends to treat important matters as personal responsibilities. That’s fine if he’s off wandering the world alone or if he’s on a small team, but that doesn’t work if he’s supposed to be running an entire system’s worth of people.

Shikamaru and Sakura would make bad candidates for similar reasons. Yes, they both meet certain requirements and I can see why people think they’d work—both can be very charismatic when they need to be and they take charge when the situation calls for it or they’re personally motivated to, Shikamaru is probably the best strategist in the series, and Sakura has the strength and skills to protect the village in case of emergency—but people also tend to overestimate how much charge they actually take. Shikamaru only acts as a leader when he’s ordered to and when Asuma died; Sakura only acts as a leader when nobody else can or will. They also both tend to abandon those leadership positions as soon as someone they think is more qualified steps up to the plate. Basically, they’re both too much of pushovers to act as Hokage (hence why I think they work much better as enforcers or advisors). If either were to be Hokage, it would have to be a Hiruzen situation where they have someone right next to them to cover their blind spots.

(Also, I’m not sure why you brought up Kishimoto saying that Sakura would be the best teacher of team seven because that’s a fundamentally different career path.)

As for Kakashi, I’d actually say that he makes a damn good Hokage. He has years of experience working closely with previous Hokage and leading different teams, he has the notoriety to act as a deterrent, he has the skill to protect the village, he knows how to get (very important) people to listen to him, he knows when and how to make difficult decisions, he takes charge at a moments notice, he maintains self control and levelheadedness under pressure, he asks for second opinions and knows when he can/should rely on others, he is stubborn in his beliefs but he still knows how to compromise, and he’s incredibly smart. He knocks it out of the park in all categories, even personality. If I had to choose someone to be Hokage in Naruto’s place, it would be Kakashi. The main issue with him being Hokage is that he doesn’t want to be the Hokage.

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