#THIS IS GOING TO SEND ME BACK TO THE MENTAL HOSPITAL

[violentdeliiights]

my baby

eek this is my first time properly writing for ghost gasp

this was supposed to just be a quick little drabble but i kind of got into the writing mood and couldn’t stop

also disclaimer i have never first hand played the games, but i’ve watched friends and family play them so any inaccuracies please ignore!

cw: details of car accident, hospitals, angst, female reader (i think that’s all pls let me know if there are others)

word count: 1.8k - not proofread, ignore any mistakes thank youuu

Simon could feel something was wrong.

Something in his bones, a rippling wave of nausea, a shift in the breeze on the back of his neck.

The other lads had always made a joke of his seemingly supernatural levels of superstition, how he was able to almost always accurately predict when or if something was going to go wrong.

Information had been from a dodgy source? Simon had guessed from the way Gaz had dropped his mug of coffee that morning.

One of their safe houses was infiltrated? Yeah, he’d known something was coming after Soap had stubbed his little toe getting out of bed and they’d heard the Scot’s high-pitched swearing from the mess hall.

They were being ambushed whilst on a seemingly harmless mission? You guessed it, Lt. Simon Riley had warned them in the helo the day before that Price’s favourite hat going missing was a sign.

One thing about Simon- he never, ever ignored his intuition.

So the forlorn look on Price’s face as he approached Simon’s hulking frame in the gym caused his stomach to drop. He’d been stood supervising Gaz and Soap training the newbies when that god awful sensation washed over him- and now he could tell Price was going to confirm that feeling.

Turning to face the Captain when he reached his side, Simon nodded out of respect, “Cap’n”.

The sigh that he received in response only made his stomach plummet further.

“Simon,”

Price never called him by his first name. Only ever Lieutenant or Ghost.

Something was really wrong.

“…it’s your girl. She’s in a bad way.”

✯ ✯ ✯

Unlike your husband, you’d never been one for superstition. All those things online about a woman’s intuition made you feel slightly out of the loop- you don’t think you’d ever predicted something bad before it happened.

In some ways you were thankful; you never lived with the lingering sense of dread and suspicion that Simon seemed to. You’d never woken up filled with anxiety over something that was a possibility.

However, in some ways, it was a curse. Every bad thing that had ever happened to you or your loved ones seemed to blindside you. Breakups, whilst sometimes predictable, had always gutted you in a deep, physical way. Betrayal, death, accidents, injuries. They all seemed to hit you deeper when you never saw them coming.

Being stabbed in the back hurts worse when you can’t see the knife coming.

That was why that morning had felt like just another Thursday. Your normal day to go food shopping, knowing the supermarket would be relatively quiet and that you would need to stock up for the weekend when Simon tended to snack like nobody’s business.

You had just packed up the car with the bags, pulling out of the car park and onto the large roundabout the led onto the main road.

Just like every other time you’d made the trip.

Only, those other times didn’t include a huge Land Rover who hadn’t seen you in your tiny Volkswagen Beetle- the one your husband had bought you when you’d told him it was your dream car as a little girl.

The Rover pulled out just as you passed him, driving head first into the passenger’s side and sending your car spinning, careening out of control and straight into a sign post on the other side of the road, tipping the car onto its side.

The accident had happened at such a speed that you hadn’t even mentally understood what was happening before your eyes closed involuntarily, shards of glass from the smashed windshield and doors littering your skin, your chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, cuts all over your body and your seatbelt digging painfully into you.

Your last thought before your body shut down was the face of the man you loved.

✯ ✯ ✯

Simon had never driven as fast in his life.

He was well over the speed limit, his foot on the accelerator almost parallel to the floor.

The hour drive to the hospital from the base took him 25 minutes.

He hadn’t even bothered with a response when Price had informed him of which hospital you were in, Gaz and Soap only looking up from their training when they heard the door slam after him, the gym feeling slightly colder than it had minutes prior.

He had no doubt that the rest of the task force wouldn’t be far behind him: you had become somewhat of a staple around the base over the years, bringing the boys hot meals, helping with odd jobs, making sure they were all taking care of themselves.

Sometimes, Soap would come to you with his issues instead of Ghost- that was when you knew your husbands colleagues were more than just colleagues. You had been welcomed into their little dysfunctional family.

Throwing his car into the first parking space he found, Simon stormed into the reception area, his aura more that of Ghost than Simon with the palpable anger and tension radiating off of him. The elderly receptionist seemed to cower in his shadow looming over the desk, ignoring the funny and fearful looks he got from the rest of the waiting area as he barked out your name.

“R-room 414, pet,” He made a mental note to thank the woman a bit more softly and charged his way down the hall to the stairwell. The lift would only hinder him and he knew fine well he would run up a million flights of stairs to get to you. Hell, he’d scale Everest blindfolded. Wrangle the moon with a rope. Anything. For you.

After reaching the fourth floor, he flung the door stairwell door open and began his search for you, scouring each and every door number until he found it

Despite his earlier efforts to get to you as quickly as possible, he felt himself take a shuddering breath before he dared to enter- he had no idea what he was walking into. The only information Price had been given was that you’d been hospitalised a handful of hours ago. It was harder to reach a next of kin who worked on a military base, apparently.

When his eyes landed on you in that hospital bed, the only thing keeping his legs from giving way beneath him was the thought of getting to you.

Your usually glowing face was pale and sunken. Your lovely rosy cheeks he loved to pepper with kisses were hidden beneath tubes and cuts. A bandage wrapped around your head skewed your hair from his sight. The feeling of seeing you lying there, helpless, relying on machines to keep you going was so much worse than any bad intuition he’d ever felt before.

He would swap places with you in a heartbeat. No physical pain would ever compare with the utter devastation he was experiencing. His heart was no longer in his own chest, but lying battered and bruised in a hospital bed attached to machines.

His large hands swept delicately over the side of your head, “My baby,” his voice wavered, heavy with fear, “My sweet girl. What happened to you, baby?”

The taste of salt on his lips was his only sign that he was crying.

Big, bad, Lieutenant Simon Riley. Ghost. His name drove terror into the hearts of men across the globe.

Reduced to tears at the sight of you.

His knees hit the floor by your bedside, both of his hands delicately cupping your bruised face, “Come back to me, baby. You promised forever, yeah? I’m holding you to that,” A quiet sob ripped from his throat before he could control it, pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek and moving to bury his head in your stomach to muffle any more sobs.

Simon had no idea how long he had been sat slumped over you, still on his knees yet not willing to leave your side for more than a second to grab a chair. He would never let you out of sight again. Judging by the fact that the sky was significantly darker by the time he heard the door open, he could tell he’d been here for a while. Jerking his slumped head up to the door, he left out a silent breath of relief when a familiar face appeared with a sorrowful smile.

“Hey, Si. How’s our bonnie lass?” To Soap, you had been their girl since the moment Simon had introduced you to the group. His best friend- second only to your husband.

When Simon said nothing, only looked at him in silent despair and flickered his eyes back to you, Soap pushed open the door and revealed the other two men stood patiently behind him. Filtering into the room, both Gaz and Price removed their hats in respect as the three of them came to stand by your bedside but Simon couldn’t remove his eyes from you. His baby. His sweet, funny, intelligent girl.

“Hope you don’t mind, LT- we found ‘er doctor a bit ago, asked ‘im what happened, thought we’d give you some space,” Price’s voice had never been so soft, so cautious not to disturb the sullen atmosphere of the room, “Said she’d been in a car accident. Some idiot had pulled out on her, thankfully on the passenger side so she avoided the brunt of it,”

“They’ve said to let her rest, should hopefully come round in a bit, but she’s gonna be sore for a while,” Gaz finished Price’s explanation as gently as he could, knowing his LT’s tendency to become protective and hostile at the flip of a switch.

“She’ll be just fine, Si. Just needs her beauty sleep.” Even Soap’s usual humour couldn’t calm Simon. Someone had done this to you. You were in her because of the careless mistake of someone else.

He wouldn’t leave your side. Never again.

✯ ✯ ✯

Price had managed to coax Ghost into a chair before they’d left to return to base, hoping to save his knees and back but allowing him to stay with you.

Simon had resumed his previous place of laying his head gently on your stomach, clutching the hand closest to him in both of his.

At some point, the utter terror he had been feeling since the minute he saw Price’s face that afternoon caught up with him and he had passed out, still clutching your hand.

The feeling of gentle fingers weaving into his hair was what stirred Simon from a dreamless sleep, confusedly lifting his head to see you looking down at him with a pained smile when you caught sight of his red-rimmed eyes. The only time you’d seen your husband shed a tear was at your wedding.

His mouth dropped open slightly as he took in your eyes. Your beautiful, open, awake eyes. He’d never take those eyes for granted ever again.

“My baby.”

[dreamlogic]

aye can i get a fuckin uuuhhhh

break. on my burger

[takeyourdailydoseofcyanide]

asking for help always makes things worse

[caimitos]

saw a post about projecting your ethnicity onto a character and started missing vespa ilkay. so so bad

[emafallsinlove]

i’m so fucking done with everything

[p0orbaby]

if you’re still doing blurbs could you do one with alexia where she’s dating a doctor who has a very busy schedule, and alexia has a concussion in the training and gors to the hospital, and alexia sends a message to reader telling about it but r doesn’t see and when shes going to take care of the next patient it’s alexia? lmao or maybe alexia and r have a daughter and her daughter gets injured and shes the next patient and r goes feral about it idk

i changed the injury but i hope you still like it !

-

The shift is hell, as usual. You’re striding through corridors, flicking through paperwork and half-listening to one of the interns ramble about a patient they’re struggling to diagnose. Something about abdominal pain and “maybe a foreign object ingestion?” You nod distractedly, mentally filing it under deal with later.

“Just send them for imaging,” you say, not breaking your stride. “And next time, don’t say ‘foreign object’ like you’re narrating a true crime documentary. It’s unsettling”

The intern stammers out a response, but you’re already waving them off. “You’ll be fine. Go. Be great or something.” Another day, another long list of problems, it seems. You let yourself drift into autopilot, the professional rhythm of your job taking over as you stride towards the cubicle and pull back the curtain.

“Hi, I’m Dr Putellas,” you begin, still not looking up. “What seems to be—”

“¿Estás bromeando?”

You freeze. Your grip on the clipboard tightens, and your heart drops into your stomach because that voice, that exasperated, honey-warm, decidedly unimpressed voice, belongs to your wife.

Your injured wife, apparently.

“Alexia?” you blurt, snapping your head up to find her sitting on the exam table, her left leg stretched out in front of her, an ice pack balanced precariously on her knee.

She doesn’t look happy.

“Hola, cariño,” she says, dry as dust. “Fancy seeing you here”

For a moment, all you can do is stare, caught between disbelief and irritation. “What—what happened? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I did call you,” she replies, gesturing to her phone sitting next to her on the table. “Several times. Apparently, you’re very busy and important”

Your stomach twists with guilt as you instinctively check your phone. Sure enough, three missed calls from Alexia. You curse under your breath, shoving it back into your pocket and stepping closer.

“Are you okay?” you ask, switching instantly from doctor mode to wife mode. “What happened? Is it bad? Why didn’t someone—”

“Relax, doctor,” Alexia interrupts, lifting her free hand to stop your avalanche of questions. “It’s not that bad. Just a tackle gone wrong at training”

You glance at the ice pack, then at her knee, which looks swollen but not grotesque. “Define ‘not that bad.’ Can you move it?”

Alexia sighs like you’re overreacting and flexes her leg a little, wincing but managing. “See? It’s fine. Probably just a sprain”

“Sprains don’t feel fine,” you mutter, already pulling on gloves and grabbing your supplies. You kneel down, gently pressing around her knee, watching her face for any reaction.

“Your hands are cold,�� she says, the corner of her mouth twitching like she’s trying not to smile.

“Your knee is swollen,” you counter.

“Touché”

You’re quiet for a moment, focused on the task. The swelling isn’t as bad as you feared, but it’s enough to set off every alarm in your mind. You sit back on your heels, exhaling slowly.

“You need imaging,” you say firmly. “Just to be safe”

“Of course I do,” she replies, her tone light but her eyes softening. “Because I’m married to the most thorough doctor in this hospital”

“Don’t flirt with me right now,” you say, though your lips twitch in a betrayed smile. “You scared me”

Her expression softens further, and she reaches out, brushing her fingers against your cheek. “Lo siento, mi amor. I didn’t mean to”

You close your eyes briefly, leaning into her touch. Then, with a deep breath, you stand up, trying to refocus.

“Alright,” you say briskly, grabbing the chart again. “Let’s get you x-rayed and figure out what’s going on. And after that, you’re resting. No arguing.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Alexia says, her smile turning mischievous. “But I might need some help resting”

You narrow your eyes at her. “Careful, Putellas. I can still make you wait for a nurse”

“Please.” She gestures around dramatically. “You’d never leave me at the mercy of hospital food”

“Not unless you keep up that attitude,” you mutter, but your heart is already lighter.

You press a quick kiss to her temple before heading for the door. “I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere”

“Where would I go?” she calls after you, gesturing to her knee.

[icyminghao]

why didn’t you tell me?

pairing: minghao x gn!reader genre: (some) angst, fluff, comfort, drabble, idol!minghao, established relationship warning(s): mentions of eating, fainting word count: 0.8k

summary: minghao sends you some alarming texts in the middle of the night, and you’re left to speculate the abundance of reasons why he would have sent them.

a/n: inspired by 21:20 of this video with minghao and park myungsoo! the ‘mala story’ segment really fueled my delusions omg

xu baobei ♡ [21:23]: We need to talk.

xu baobei ♡ [21:24]: Call me when you see this.

Those two text messages glare at you every time you pick up your phone, waves of dread coursing through your body as you start speculating the reason as to why your boyfriend had sent the texts so out of the blue.

Is he angry at you? For what reason? Is he going to break up with you? For what reason? You don’t think you’ve done anything to upset him lately, so what could be the issue?

Countless thoughts are flooding your mind as you pace around the living room of your apartment, debating whether to call him or not. If he really wanted to break up with you, wouldn’t you be sending yourself to death’s door by calling him?

Sighing, you bite your lip and decide to text him instead.

you [22:12]: talk about what?

Almost immediately, your ringtone blares through the speakers of your phone, and you nearly drop the phone in shock. Sure enough, the caller ID reads your boyfriend’s contact name, and you sigh in dread, taking a seat on the couch and mentally preparing yourself for what’s about to come.

“Hello?” you say as soon as you pick up, your heart rate picking up.

“y/n,” Minghao replies, his voice stern yet soft, like he can’t bring himself to be fully angry at you.

There’s silence for a short while, and you feel like you’re going to explode any second.

“Are you…” you break the silence, nearly trembling, “are you breaking up with me?”

On the other end of the line, you hear something drop. “What? No, y/n, I’m not breaking up with you. What made you think that way?”

“You- you sounded really scary in your texts,” you mumble, internally relieved that your boyfriend isn’t planning on breaking up with you.

“Text messages don’t carry tone in them, silly,” Minghao chuckles.

“I heard you went to the hospital. From Mingyu,” Minghao pipes up after a moment of silence, and everything clicks in your head.

You had indeed been to the hospital the day before upon suddenly passing out while hanging out with Mingyu’s sister, who’d sent you to the emergency room immediately out of fear that something serious had happened to you. Thankfully, the reason why you’d passed out had been due to fatigue, and you subsequently begged her not to tell anyone about it, despite her objections.

You’re guessing that she had told Mingyu about it, which you don’t blame her for, and that’s how you’ve ended up in this situation now.

“I did,” you reply simply, looking down at your feet.

“Are you feeling better now? What happened?” Minghao asks immediately after your reply.

“I’m okay now, it wasn’t serious,” you assure your boyfriend, “The doctor said it was due to fatigue.”

“Are you not eating and sleeping well?” Minghao replies with yet another question, worry laced in his voice. “Should I move back in?”

You start to panic a little at the idea of Minghao coming back to live in your shared home, seeing as to how he had moved to the dorm temporarily to prepare for their upcoming comeback, quickly refuting, “It’s okay, Hao, I’m okay! I think I just skipped a few meals because of work, I’ll make sure to have my meals regularly!”

Minghao pauses, then hums in response, seemingly not satisfied with your answer.

“Why… didn’t you tell me? I could’ve been there,” Minghao’s voice becomes softer, and you sense a bit of hurt in his tone, breaking your heart a little.

“I— I didn’t want to worry you, Hao,” you began, eyes downturned, “You have a concert and a comeback coming up that’s more important.”

“Nothing’s more important than you, y/n.” Minghao replies without missing a beat, catching you by surprise. “I’m your boyfriend, y/n, you can talk to me if anything happens. What if- what if something serious had happened, and I wasn’t there?”

Minghao’s vulnerable tone breaks your heart, and you frown at his words. Throughout your relationship, such a situation had never happened before, and thinking in his perspective, you completely understand why he’s upset, making you all the more upset at your actions.

“I know, Hao, I- I would want you to let me know if anything happened to you, too. I’m really sorry.” you apologise, wishing he were physically beside you so you could hug him.

Minghao sighs, clearly not wanting to escalate the issue for no reason. “It’s okay, darling, just let me know in the future, hm? I love you.”

“I will, Hao. I love you too,” you reply like it’s second nature, because it is.

A comfortable silence ensues for a while, the two of you at ease knowing that your hearts beat for each other despite the physical distance.

“Also, I’m moving back in. Comeback preparations are more or less done, anyway, and I believe making sure a certain someone eats regularly is much more important,” Minghao jests, and you hear some rustling in the background. “I’m on the way.”

You chuckle. You really don’t know what you did to deserve this man, but you know you won’t be letting him go anytime soon.

a/n 2: i’ve come to a realisation that i’m an absolute horror at writing endings LOL

taglist (send an ask to be tagged!): @slytherinshua @viscade @pepperonidk @belladaises @tastymintchocolate @dahliatopia @kwantaro @chanceonceli @hrts4hanniehae @leehanascent @nonononranghaee

masterlist

[no-144444]

mistakes- l.norris

————————

pairing: Lando Norris x publicist! fem! reader

summary: the aftermath of the Hungarian gp

————————

He wanted to scream. At Oscar, at the team, at everyone. It wasn’t fair. Fair and fucking square he was supposed to be in first. He was closest to Max in the championship. It made fucking sense, and Oscar wasn’t going to catch up, so Lando was McLaren’s only chance at a world championship. Fuck their strategy, fuck being a ‘team player’, fuck all that shit. It wasn’t fair.

And then there was you. Had he been harsh on the radio? Yes. Did you now have to clean up his mess? Yes. Was he scared to face you? Yes. But only because he knew what you’d be doing, and that you’d be too busy to be with him. Thus the joys of secretly dating your publicist.

He walked into his drivers room and found you on his bed, laptop on your lap as you answered call after call. You didn’t even spare him a glance. Fuck that. He was mad, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be alone right now. He changed and showered, then left you to work while he went out and ‘celebrated’ Oscar’s win.

————————

At about 2am Lily called you.

“Hi Y/n,” she sighed, the loud music making her difficult to hear.

“What club?” You sighed.

“I’ll send you my location now,” she hesitated. “Lando’s not that drunk, he’s just… sad. He’s been begging me to call you for ages, and I was holding off because I knew you’d be working all night today and-“

“It’s fine, I’m getting in my car now.”

“Thanks Y/n.”

And with that you hung up the phone. You closed your overheated laptop and grabbed your keys. The hospitality was dead at this time and all you could think about was the race. You were angry at the team, happy for Oscar, and annoyed at Lando. He hadn’t even come in to see you after, he’d given you a week's worth of work in one race, and you had no idea how to feel about what had happened today.

You pulled up outside the club and found Lando outside with Oscar. You ran over when you saw him sitting down, wondering if he was completely drunk.

“Where’s Y/n?” He mumbled to Oscar, tears in his eyes. The fans around were screaming their names as they waited for a photo, or even a glimpse of the drivers.

“I’m here,” you kneeled down beside him, taking his hand. “I’m right here.”

“Y/n,” he just stared at you as you looked over him. He looked awful. “You’re here.”

“Let’s go home, ok?”

“Please don’t be mad at me,” he begged.

You squeezed his hand, if you two were alone you would’ve hugged him and kissed all over his face, promising that you weren’t, but alas, you were all too aware of the hundreds of eyes on you. “I’m not mad at you.”

He groaned. Yeah, he was at least a little drunk. “But you’re not kissing me, you’re mad.”

“I’m going to leave you to it,” Oscar tried to hold back a laugh, but failed and decided he wouldn’t be much help anymore. “Good luck.”

You waved him off and sighed. “Lan, come on. I’ll kiss you at home,” you promised.

“Promise?”

“I promise,” you smiled, then tried to stand up but, Lando being Lando, he pulled you down and pressed his lips against yours.

Your heart stopped, and not in the usual way it did when he kissed you. The screams of the fans were drowned out by the beating in your ears.

He pulled back. “I love you. A lot.”

Fuck off. Not right now. No. He was not saying that for the first time now. That wasn’t fair.

“Lan please-“

“You don’t love me?”

Your breathing picked up, you felt sick. “Please can we just get to the car Lando?”

“Say it back!” He pleaded. “Please baby, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you sighed. “Now please can we go to the car?”

He nodded, a goofy smile on his face.

————————

When Lando woke up the next morning you were at the desk in his room, laptop open in front of you.

“Morning,” he said. You didn’t answer. He got up, noticing how you’d changed his clothes and mentally reminded himself to thank you. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close. “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t answer again.

“Baby?” He turned his head and looked at you. Shit.

You were crying, staring at the awful things people were saying about you two online.

Shes so ugly. How can he date her? She’s so boring. She doesn’t even go out and celebrate with the team? She’s such a stuck up bitch.

“Stop looking at that,” he closed your laptop and held you closer. “They don’t know you.”

You nodded, leaning into his body. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I wanted to talk to you about it-“

He scoffed. “You didn’t even say hello when I came in.”

“What?” You turned to him, wiping your eyes. “I didn’t hear you. I had my AirPods in.”

“Oh,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Shit.”

“And I didn’t exactly have time after the race yesterday to look up from my laptop, not after the shitstorm you caused,” you sighed, knowing you were being too harsh. “Sorry. I know yesterday was shit for you.”

He sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I’m sorry too. I’m sure I did something fucking stupid last night.”

You chuckled. “You kissed me in front of everyone and told me you loved me.”

His body tensed. He took a deep breath. “Wow.”

“How do you think I felt?” You chuckled. “We’re going to have to answer so many fucking questions at work.”

He paused for a moment. “What did you say back?”

“I told you the truth,” you sighed, getting up. “I love you.”

He stared at you for a moment. “I love you too,” he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. The tension and anxiety you felt dissipated as he held you closer. Yes, you were still stressed and upset, but Lando loved you.

You pulled away. “We need to talk about our strategy to explain what happened yesterday-“

“Please just stop talking and let me kiss you,” he pressed his lips to your again.

You’d talk about it all later.

————————

navigation for my blog :)

[quantum1mmortality]

Im so glad you're writing for Curly bc I'm so obsessed with him rn!! May I suggest (if you haven't done them already) some soft/fluffy post burn hcs? Like finally seing him again after a long drive to the hospital, mentally preparing yourself for what he might look like. Curly being so afraid about how you'd react, and just breaking down when you let out an "oh, Curly :(" and softly place a hand on his cheek, so worried that you might hurt him by accident that it's hardly even a touch at all. Curly leaning his cheek into your palm, having been so scared to see you and now so desperate for your touch.

Life returning to a new normal after a while, prosthetics and PT, skin grafts, so on. Lying in bed with him and being so relived and happy when he gets a spark of mischief like he used to and tries to tickle or play wrestle with you. Him quietly asking questions when the laughter dies down. if you missed his lips, or the blond hair you loved so much that now hardly grew at all. Reassuring him that it didn't matter what he looked like, or what he could and could not do anymore. He's still your curly.

Sorry this turned out so long 😭 I can't get him out of my head!

I LOVE what you wrote 🙏🙏 I'll be going off of these, taking bits and pieces of your hcs and then putting them in here. Overall just gonna be fluffy post crash Curly hcs :)

Of topic, but the way some people in this fandom treat post crash curly makes me nauseous. Finding out that some of you wouldn't treat him like I would makes me wanna cry. Maybe I'm too empathetic or maybe I'm a baby back bitch, either way, I'd care for this man so much. Y'all don't understand how much I love him.

Tw/cw; none!! One curse word but that's literally it (I think)

Not proofread

Extremely sensitive to touch for the first few weeks. I feel as though curly would be in incredible pain, but would try his best to keep your hands touching his cheeks, face, body in general. He'd even go as far as to whimper at how bad it hurt, yet still enduring it because he needed to know you still loved him.

He'd be so happy to see you anytime you were around. Just like pre crash, but it was more special. It got to the point where you would take off work for weeks at a time just to be with him, just so you could see him happy.

After the first two months of agonizing pain, you'd start touching him more. Not sexual, obviously, but just getting more physically affectionate. You'd be able to hug and kiss him goodbye, and hold on to his arm as you talked with him.

Speaking of talking, he wouldn't be able to, so you would talk for him. Basically telling him something, then answering any questions he may or may not have. You've known him long enough, you know how he'd react and question things, so it was practically a no brainer for you.

Now that he doesn't feel as much pain as he used to from your touches, you'd begin sleeping with him. NOT SEXUAL!!! Just cuddling up next to him in the hospital bed, laying your head on his shoulders and kissing him goodnight. Just like how you used to.

Eventually he'd start getting prosthetics, and aside from the physical therapy he's usually getting, you'd bring board games and playing cards so he could learn to use his new hands while still spending time with you.

Curly used to kick your ass in uno and honestly he still does. The trembling in his hands would slowly go away over time, and you were helping him with that much more than his physical therapist was; because at least he wanted to actually be around you.

After months and months, he'd finally be ready to take home. New prosthetics and a bunch of skin graft surgeries later, he's in good condition again. Not perfect in his eyes, but it is in yours.

He wouldn't be able to work, but Pony Express sends him checks as if he was. He gets enough from them, you could quit your job, but you don't want to be dependent on them. So you keep working.

Getting home from work is your favorite part of the day, having Curly be so happy to see you makes everything so worth it.

Your home life goes back to normal with a few exceptions, but nothing too drastic. Curly being in a wheelchair and still not being able to speak, but it's nothing you can't handle. You love him, you're willing to make sacrifices. He'd do the same for you, and you know that.

Bonus content; if you guys were married before the crash, once he got his prosthetic hands, he'd have you help him make a little beaded necklace for his ring to go on; that way he could still wear it :) he'd never take the necklace off once it's done

A/N; I've been pretty busy recently so sorry for the delay on requests; I have a lot of ideas for them though so hopefully they'll be out soon

[cjlouwho]

prompt: im not gay, but my husband is.

(I loved those scenes in 911 and lonestar where they only wanted the straight white guy to work on them, so I think it would be funny happening with married, bi buck!)

“No, I don't want you touching me.”

They'd been sent on a call to a woman's residence. She had fallen in her driveway on the way to her car. From the moment they pulled up, trouble had started. She didn't want Hen touching her, wouldn't accept help from Chimney, and the second she spotted Diaz on Eddie's uniform she stopped him.

“Well, you're a straight, white man, Bobby,” Chimney said with a smile. “You wanna take the lead?”

“Wait,” Eddie put his hands on his hip, “do interracial relationships matter to you too?” he asked the woman. “Because, if so, Bobby's out.”

She looked around at everyone in a panic. “You!” she exclaimed when her eyes met Buck's. “You can do it, right?!”

“Yes, I am capable of placing a splint on your leg,” he said with no enthusiasm as Hen handed over the splint.

He bent down to get started but she held her arm out to stop him. “You're normal, right? You're not married to someone,” she glanced up at Bobby, “different, are you? Not gay or anything?”

“Oh, no ma'am, I'm not gay,” Buck assured her, before adding with a flash of his ring, “my husband is though.”

“Y- Your what?”

“My husband.”

“So you are gay?”

“Ma'am, please don't get him started,” Hen begged. “He will not shut up once he gets going.”

“There are actually some people that believe bisexuality doesn't exist,” Buck began, waving a finger to emphasize his point. The groans from the rest of the 118 didn't detour him. “It has been proven to cause mental health issues for people who identify as such, and in extreme cases-”

“Okay, okay,” Bobby interrupted, patting Buck's back a couple of times to get him to stop. “This lady is very clearly “in distress” and we should be focused on helping her.” He stared over at the woman, “If she'll let any of us.”

“Can't you call another team or something? One that isn't filled with minorities and heathens?”

“The 112?” Hen suggested.

Eddie shook his head. “All women crew today.” He looked down at the lady, “I'm guessing you wouldn't like that?”

“They're just not as capable as men,” she whined.

“143?” Chimney asked.

Buck stood back up. “With Captain Garcia?”

“No!” She yelled.

“217?” Eddie offered.

Buck perked up at that. He smiled at the lady on the ground. “You'd get to meet my husband!” he exclaimed. “He's working ground ops today. I could call him, give him a heads up?” He bent back down to the woman's level. “He is the gay one though.”

The woman groaned before pushing herself up and grabbing her purse, jerking away at Buck's attempt to help. “You know what? I'm just gonna take myself to the hospital,” she said as she started to hobble away.

“Say hello to Dr. Cohen for us,” Bobby said, sending her off with a wave. She let out one more angry yelp before getting into her car and slamming the door.

*****

Tommy had gotten home about an hour before Buck, already dressed in a white button down shirt tucked into black dress pants for dinner reservations they had that night.

When he heard the sounds of Buck's car door shutting, he headed to the front door and opened it, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Hey you,” he said with a smile.

Buck smiled back, dropping his duffel the second he reached the porch. He immediately wrapped himself around Tommy, surprising him with a kiss that elicited a moan from him.

“I got to call you my husband at work today,” Buck explained between kisses as Tommy gripped his waist. He led Tommy backward into the house, kicking the door shut behind him. “Twice.”

Tommy breathed out a laugh, pulling back just enough to look into Buck's eyes. “This was your first shift back after our honeymoon,” he reminded him. “So you lasted, what, twelve hours into your workday before mentioning me?”

Buck shook his head. “It was our first call of the day,” he informed him. “More like two hours.”

Tommy hummed, running his hands up and down Buck's waist. “Your whole team owes me double then,” he said before pressing a gentle kiss to Buck's lips.

It was Buck's turn to pull back this time. “What are you talking about?”

“They were taking bets on how long it would take for you to mention you were married. I said it'd be less than twelve hours, and you'd mention it more than once. Wait-” He paused, then gave Buck's waist a squeeze, “did you mention bisexual erasure?”

Buck sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It's an important topic, Tommy!”

Tommy simply smiled. “I hit the jackpot, Babe.”

“You placed bets on me?” Buck asked with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Mhm,” Tommy replied. He shrugged. “I won like five hundred dollars.”

Buck's eyes darkened at that. In one quick motion, he turned them and shoved Tommy against the door, pawing at his shirt to get it untucked. “That's so hot,” he moaned, smashing his mouth against Tommy's in a sloppy kiss.

They never did make their dinner reservations.

[feminist-space]

"Joy Spence, 21, said she visited emergency departments at two hospitals in St. John's over the course of nearly two weeks this May.

What began as weakness and abdominal pain on her right side quickly deteriorated into blacking out from the agony in her torso.

But no matter how dire her symptoms got, doctors kept sending her home.

"They would just tell me, 'Your bloodwork's normal, there's nothing we can do.' They would send me home, then same thing again," she said. "I would go back again. They would get me to do the bloodwork, say everything's normal."

Ultrasound and CT scans apparently turned up nothing, but Spence, in such severe pain, says she had no option but to keep returning to the hospital, where she says she was eventually left screaming in a waiting room, ignored by hospital staff.

"If somebody doesn't help me, I'm going to die," she recalls wailing, watching doctors and nurses pass her by.

At one point, she was dismissed outright by a walk-in clinic nurse, she adds.

"Somebody said to me, 'I don't know what you expect me to do,'" she said. "'You're a healthy 21-year-old young female.'"

One night, she says, her boyfriend had to help her into an ambulance. Spence was in so much pain she couldn't stay conscious and stand on her own.

"I remember the man in the ambulance telling me … how often he sees other young women going into the hospital and seeing them be misdiagnosed and not taken seriously," she said, speaking through tears.

"He said that he would do his best to … get things going for me."

Spence says she went to an ER at the Health Sciences Centre or St. Clare's Mercy Hospital about 10 times over a 12-day period, beginning on May 21. She also visited her family doctor, who could do little except tell her to speak directly to the surgeon at Health Sciences Centre, she said.

Each time she saw a doctor, she says, she was sent home and told to dance around her living room or do yoga to cure what physicians believed was anxiety or sluggish bowels.

"I had so many laxatives," Spence recalls. "I would tell them … nothing's even coming out anymore. It's not just this, I don't think. But no, they were dead set on the constipation and only constipation. Like, it can only be that."

...

Spence says doctors only began to take her seriously once she began vomiting in a Health Sciences Centre hallway. The contents of her stomach were green and black.

An older doctor walking past her happened to notice, stopping in his tracks. Spence says he immediately identified the issue as appendicitis.

At that doctor's urging, Spence was finally wheeled into an operating room, where she says her burst appendix — now gangrenous — was removed.

"I think when I walked into the room and they seen a 21-year-old young girl, they immediately dismissed me and thought that there couldn't be anything wrong with me," Spence said.

"I was not on their minds and not on their radar. And if they didn't have that preconceived idea of me, those thoughts wouldn't have been formed and maybe I would have gotten the proper care that I should have."

...

Spence is still struggling to recover from her ordeal. Physically, she's now fine: her appendix was removed and her stitches have healed.

But she's lost an alarming amount of weight, she says, wakes up gasping in the middle of the night and can't stop herself from crying whenever she remembers the hospital.

"I've been losing a lot of hair," she said. "Mentally, it's just been a struggle."

Spence only received an apology from the health authority after CBC News requested comment and confirmed that Spence had done an interview — a move she says felt hollow and frustrating, since the manager who called her didn't give her an explanation about why she was repeatedly ignored while waiting to be admitted.

The ripple effect from her illness, and how she says she was treated when seeking care, has uprooted her life. She's taken a year off her studies in Memorial University's social work program and has lost her job. She's looking for trauma therapy, but now doesn't have the money to pay for it, she says.

"I think as young women we're always told what we're supposed to do, how we're supposed to think, and not to trust our instincts," she said.

"But most of the time … the gut instinct is right. I knew I was sick. I knew what was happening wasn't right, and I could have died if I didn't keep going back to the hospital.

"If I had listened to those doctors and went back home — what could have really happened?""

[gaysindistress]

The two times Simon almost killed Price and the one time Price almost killed Simon

First off yall blew up this post and I’m actually speechless 🥺 I’ve also hit 1,000 followers (SKDJJWDJJEJW) and will be working on the surprise fic shortly. I was working on some birthday posts and wasn’t expecting it to happen so quickly so might be a bit before it comes out.

Simon’s masterlist

1. When Simon was injured

Price called you to let you know that Simon was injured during an op and he would be fine but you should come get him from the base. Simon never lets you go to base and you knew if he was conscious, he would have an absolute fit and get a cab home. He’s a very private person and after what happened to his family, he’s not about to let you get anywhere close to work if he can help it.

You obviously know this but it’s Price who called you, not Simon. Price ends the call with ‘see ya soon, Mrs. Riley’ which simultaneously breaks your heart because you’re not his wife but also warms it. It also doesn’t give you a choice; you’ll be there whether you drive yourself or Price brings you.

The captain doesn’t tell anyone that you’re coming or who you are when you get there. He meets you at the entrance and escorts you in. Like a father might, he keeps you close to him as the two of you make your way across the base and to the clinic where Simon is resting. He wouldn’t let them send him off base to a hospital so they did what they could and he’s, of course, being difficult still.

The moment the others see you, their eyes widen because who is this? Why are you with Price? Why have they never seen you before? Are you his daughter? His niece? His controversially younger girlfriend? Who are you and why are you here of all places? You definitely scare the shit out of them let’s be real. You pull up looking like this and you’re with their captain.

You have an aura of unwavering confidence and a resting bitch face that rivals Ghost’s. They don’t get the chance to pester you because Price is quickly shoving you into the room where Ghost is at and giving them all the death stare.

Simon does a double take when he sees you with wide eyes but doesn’t make any other indication that he knows you. The poor nurse who’s filling out his release paperwork is petrified and he looks like he’s about to pass out. You narrow your eyes at Simon because clearly he’s been his usual asshole self and that’s why this nurse is about to pass out.

You give the nurse a small smile as you tell him your name and that you’re who’s going to be taking care of Simon. The man’s knees almost give out from relief and he word vomits all of the information you’ll need while handing you the paperwork in a shaking hand. You thank him and wait for him to leave before you finally look at Simon.

He’s got his mask on like you expected but you can still read his eyes. He’s pissed.

All you say is “You were shot.”

He nods once.

“I’m your emergency contact.”

He nods once again.

“You don’t get to be mad that I’m here. If anyone gets to be upset and act like a child, it’s me. I’m the one who had to find out from your captain that you got hurt so badly that you’re being put on temporary medical leave for 6 weeks.“

He doesn’t nod this time. He just stares. Eventually he sighs and looks at the ground.

“‘M sorry.”

You sigh as well and give him the hug he’s craving but won’t ask for. You press a kiss to the top of his masked head and rub his back.

“It’s alright, my love.” You murmur into his sweaty mask. “Let’s go home, yeah? The dogs have been driving me mental.”

Although it’s covered, you feel him smile. You feel it in the way his body relaxes under your touch and his arms tighten around your waist.

“Let’s go home.” He agrees.

The others are absolutely gobsmacked when they see you walk out with Ghost. He’s the same as he always is; guarded and on defense but there’s a softness in his eyes when he glances at you talking to Price. They have half a mind to ask about you but one sharp glance from Ghost keeps their mouth shut. Whoever you are, you’re the single most important person in the world to him and they’d be complete fools to even breath in your direction.

2. When Simon was home

Let’s just say that Simon was in a compromising position when Price called him to meet at the base in an hour.

Usually you’re the one in the restraints that are always on your bed butttttt you managed to convince him to switch places. Tonight he’s bound by the leather cuffs on his wrists and ankles. His eyes are squeezed shut and his head is buried into the pillow behind him. You’ve been teasing and edging this poor man for close to an hour. Kitten licks and light squeezes are all you’ve given him as you worship his strong body. Each scar on his body has been caressed, licked, and kissed by you. Every inch of him has been loved and adored by you…

expect for his cock.

You’ve been purposely ignoring it until you finally take him into your mouth. His release is fast approaching as you bob your head up and down. He’s moaning and whimpering. Then his work phone rings. The stupid phone he only uses when he’s working goes off and he’s never been so angry in his entire life. You pull off of him and he lets out the loudest groan known to man. You giggle at him as you fish it from the night stand and press it to his ear as you place yourself in his lap.

“Price the fucking king could be dead and that still wouldn’t be a good enough reason to call me right now.”

3. And the one time that Price almost killed Simon.

Ever since Price called you to base, he’s been keeping in touch with you. He’ll text you and call you every now and then to make sure you’re okay. Obviously you are; Simon is your…partner and you can handle yourself but he still likes to check in on you. He feels responsible for Simon as he’s his captain but also for you since you’re his whole world.

Moving on… the first deployment that Simon went on was rough. You were anxious as you usually were but this time was worse. He was hurt. He had been shot and even though he’d healed just fine, you couldn’t help but worry about him. On the other hand, Simon’s nightmares had made a comeback and he’d been waking up in cold sweats. One time you swore you saw Ghost rather than your adoring man. You’d told Price about it and made he swear to not say a damn word to Simon. He agreed but kept a watchful eye on his Lieutenant.

On the second night of their deployment, Price had gotten a rather short and strange text from you that read “keep him safe please.” It felt like a given that he did but something about this felt wrong. He called you and it took until the last ring for you to pick up. You were sobbing, hyperventilating, and wheezing into the phone when you answered. He couldn’t get a single coherent word out of you for the first 10 minutes but when he did, he saw red.

Apparently Simon had lost his mind and decided that it would be better if you weren’t together. You’d told Price that he told you some bullshit lie about how he wasn’t feeling it anymore and you should go find someone better. The captain was more pissed off that his Lieutenant had lied and immediately found him the moment you’d stopped crying.

“Riley!” Price shouts across from the landing strip. That sends alarm bells off in Simon’s head. It was Ghost or Lieutenant, never his name.

Price stalks over to him and grabs him by the front of his vest, not caring that everyone can see what’s going on. “You call and apologize to her right now, ya hear me? It’s unacceptable for you to lie to her like that and I should have your balls for it. You fix it before she does go off and find herself a better man.”

Simon can’t argue with him. He knows that what he did was wrong and Price is well within his right to act on his threat. Hell Simon was about to do it himself if it meant he could rewind time and take back what he said.

However he is still Lieutenant Ghost in this moment. He narrows his dark eyes at Price and slowly takes his hand off of his vest. Nothing but lethal silence fills the space between the two men. Bystanders are growing increasingly desperate for action, practically yipping like starving hyenas for a scrap.

“You have 30 seconds to get out of my sight.”

Price steps away and Simon disappears into the darkness. The hyenas howl in hunger around them, chattering about the unfairness of it all.

Simon calls you the moment he’s locked away in his room. He spends the next hour apologizing profusely to you and damn near begging you to wait for him. It’ll be a few weeks until he’s back but please…just wait for him.

[steddieas-shegoes]

ow

for @corrodedcoffinfest prompt 'ow'

rated t | 926 words | cw: injury, hospitals | tags: established relationship, steddie, famous corroded coffin

🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕🤕

Steve woke up to his phone ringing. He wouldn’t normally be too concerned about that happening, especially when it was barely eleven at night and Eddie was known to call when he got offstage for the night, but the ringtone wasn’t Eddie’s.

“Gareth?” Steve answered, heart already racing from the adrenaline of being woken up so quickly.

“Eddie fell!” Gareth’s voice was panicked as he spoke.

“Fell? Where? Is he okay?” Steve started to rush out of bed, mentally calculating what he would need to shove into a carry on bag to get to wherever Eddie was.

Dallas? Las Vegas? He forgot.

“Off the stage. He’s in the ambulance and we’re on our way to the hospital now. He was awake and yelling at us to call you when he left,” Jeff answered. Apparently Gareth had him on speakerphone. “I don’t think he hit his head, but he said his leg and hip hurt. Could have broken something.”

“Shit. Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Steve threw his backpack on the bed, shoving his phone charger in first. “Send me the hospital info so I can try to call.”

“No, no. He said to tell you not to rush here.”

“His exact words were ‘’Tis but a scratch.’” Frankie said through the phone. “Which is code for he’s being very brave.”

“Exactly. I’ll be on the next flight to-“ Steve leaned over to check his printed out schedule of the tour. “Kansas City.”

“See you soon.”

****

When Steve arrived at the hospital, the entire crew filled the waiting room. A nurse was standing at the reception desk talking to Gareth, Jeff, and Frankie.

Steve rushed over to them.

“How is he?”

“They won’t let any of us see him. He’s been in recovery for two hours now.” Frankie said over his shoulder as he glared at nurse.

“Apparently Eddie doesn’t want to see anyone.” Jeff said as he turned to Steve. “Not until he saw you.”

“Okay, so let me see him.” Steve adjusted his backpack over his shoulder.

“He’s asleep. Nurse said he finally passed out about 15 minutes ago and he needs rest,” Gareth shook his head. “Dramatic bitch.”

“Wait. Recovery?” Steve shook his head. He needed to focus, figure out what was going on exactly. “He had surgery?”

“They had to repair his knee that he shattered. Idiot.” Frankie said before walking towards the crew.

“He’s just mad it took so long to find out anything. He was worried,” Jeff explained. “Glad you’re here now, man. Flight okay?”

“Got stuck in the middle seat between a business man who spent the entire flight calling his wife a bitch and a woman who spent the entire flight crying about leaving her boyfriend. Also anxious as hell. Pretty sure my leg is still numb from not sitting still.” Steve sighed. “Any way I can just go sit in his room?” He asked the nurse.

“Will everyone leave if I let you?” She asked in return.

“I’ll clear ‘em out.” Jeff promised as he patted Steve’s shoulder.

Gareth gave him a quick side hug before following Jeff to the crowded room.

The nurse still didn’t seem pleased, but she must’ve sensed that Steve would put up a hell of a fight. She nodded her head for him to follow her through the double doors to the elevators.

“Room 3186 is where he’ll be for the next 24-48 hours. Then he’ll either get released or moved to the inpatient physical therapy hall,” she explained as they rode up to the third floor. “That’s usually reserved for particularly slow healers and older people, so hopefully he’ll be able to do outpatient PT.”

“How long before he can go on stage?” Steve asked, already scared of the answer.

“I guess it depends on if he plans on falling off another one.”

Any other time, Steve probably would’ve laughed, but right now, he was full of too much anxiety.

“I doubt he planned on falling off of this one,” Steve snapped back.

She apologized when they got to Eddie’s room. “It’s just been rough dealing with that crowd.”

“Well, he’s got a lot of people who care about him.”

She gave him a small smile before leaving him to go into the room on his own.

Eddie was asleep, but Steve could tell it wasn’t a deep sleep. They must not be giving him strong medication.

Steve set his backpack down by the chair and sat down as quietly as possible.

When he looked over to Eddie, his eyes were open and his lips were turned down in a frown. “Ow.”

“Want me to call a nurse?” Steve leaned closer to the bed, worry creasing his brow.

“I broke my knee.”

“I know, baby.”

“Floor got me.”

“Yeah, it did,” Steve barely managed to hold back a laugh as Eddie sighed. “You wanna hold my hand?”

“Always.”

Steve watched as Eddie drifted back to sleep, his hand loose in his grasp.

He sent a text to Gareth to let him know he was with him and he was sleeping somewhat peacefully. He made sure to tell him they could all head back to the buses and vans if they hadn’t already.

Eddie got released two days later with a very intense PT schedule and a restriction on playing on stage standing up for four weeks.

When he got the cast and bandages off, his first stop was a tattoo parlor, where he got the word ‘ow’ tattooed over his kneecap, just above the scar from his surgery.

[coco-loco-nut]

Broken Bones

pairing: george russell x reader

summary: George gets in a wreck and you happen to be the surgeon on-call.

a/n: i loved this prompt, i hope you love it ❤️

masterlist

————————

George was enjoying his home race, he was holding P3 with a comfortable lead due to some great defending earlier in the race. Unfortunately for him, mother nature decided to put her hand into the race and have a pop up rain shower come through.

“It should clear through shortly, let’s keep with the softs,” his engineer says, hoping to outsmart those pitting for inters. George says a quick response and continues focusing on the track, especially the dry line. With the rain pouring, he catches a wet line in turn 4, sending the car spinning and into a barrier.

You rush down a couple floors to where you have been paged. Being the only orthopedic trauma surgeon in the hospital and on-call, you have to make haste.

“Is there really no one else to take this?” you ask, looking at the chart that has initial images and the patient information.

“Big fan?” the nurse beside you asks as you mentally plan the procedure. Most of Britain is basically a fan of the racing driver.

“Yeah. It’s not ethical, but I took an oath,” you tightly smile, beginning the process of scrubbing in.

“You are a great surgeon, you will have no problem keeping the fan part of you out of your mind,” the nurse reassures you. You take a couple deep breaths before heading to surgery.

The procedure goes well, you repair the broken wrist and fix the damage as best you can. Of course, time will finish healing it, but you do your best.

Afterwards you scrub out, finish paperwork, and go home. You won’t need to check in until anesthesia wears off, and that can take a while. You return later in the day, dressed in business casual and your lab coat.

“Mr. Russell, how are you feeling?” you ask, needing to check on your work. You close the door behind you when you enter the room.

“You are so pretty,” George says, still a little out of it.

“Thank you. Mind if I check your arm?” you ignore your blush.

“You look like my wife. She’s a doctor too, soooo pretty,” George babbles.

“I know, love, let me see your arm,” you say gently, sitting beside him.

“What happened?” George asks with a confused look.

“You spun out and crashed into a barrier. It was raining, you were on slicks, and caught a wet line,” you explain, carefully examining the surgical site, removing the splint immobilizing the wrist.

“I know that much. Injuries?” he asks, eyes trained on your wound examination.

“Broken wrist. We are going to brace it rather than cast it,” you check his chart for other injuries noted.

“Thank you for taking such good care of me, I love you,” George says, moving his non-injured hand to grab yours.

“I love you too, Georgie,” you whisper, rubbing your thumb over his hand as he processes everything. You note things in his chart, making sure your observations and updates are written down.

“I’m glad you did my surgery, I wouldn’t trust anyone else,” he smiles, you can’t help but smile back. It’s not illegal, but it certainly is borderline unethical to treat your husband.

“I’m happy to hear that. Why don’t I go and see if your family is out in the waiting room?”you hum, needing to stay inconspicuous. Of course, those close to you know who your husband is, but since you don’t share his last name it isn’t obvious.

“One kiss before you leave,” George pouts and you hesitate. “Please, I was just in a crash and your kisses make me feel better,” he pouts. You playfully roll your eyes and lean in, giving him a quick kiss.

“I love you, I’ll be right back,” you reassure him. You find his family and Toto waiting outside in the waiting room.

“Family of Mr. Russell,” you say, calling them to you.

“Y/n, dear, did you do his surgery?” George’s mom asks, a little hopeful.

“I did, I was the only one here and on call. Thankfully nothing too major, he can probably get back into a car in a month if we rehab him correctly. Want to see him?” you ask, knowing the answer. You lead them to his room, but stop Toto before he walks in.

“Y/n-“ Toto starts but you don’t hesitate to cut him off.

“You got very lucky that the broken wrist was the worst of it. Keeping him out on slicks? Are you stupid, a win is not worth more than a life,” you fume.

“I know, I gave his engineers and strategists a talking to. I just wanted to check in on him, but knowing he is in your care is all I needed. I check in tomorrow then,” Toto stays calm, knowing you had to since George was brought in and you needed to yell at someone.

“I, um, thank you. He should only be here another day for observation. I’ll keep you updated,” you recompose yourself and watch as Toto leaves.

“She’s just the best doctor ever. So pretty too, and smart, and really good at surgery,” you overhear George tell his parents, he likely just got another dose of pain meds.

“Thank you, Georgie. You are a pretty good patient,” you smile from the doorway.

“Can you believe that doctor loves me? And she married me?” George asks his mom who laughs.

“You chose a wonderful wife. Why don’t you let her get back to work?” his mom asks, catching your amused gaze.

“Yes, I have another surgery scheduled. I will check on you in a few hours,” you walk over to your husband, giving him a quick kiss.

“I love you so much, I want to have babies with you,” George blurts, causing your face to flame bright red.

“Okay, let’s talk about that later,” you awkwardly say, stepping out of the room.

You are quick to return after your scheduled surgery. You know the nurses rotations and know that they won’t check in for another hour.

“There’s my beautiful wife,” George grins as you walk in. “You look so sexy post-surgery,” he eyes you up.

“Really? I don’t feel like it,” you slide onto the bed beside him, careful to avoid hurting him. You relax in silence for a minute before you address the feeling eating at the pit of your stomach. “Please try not to crash again. I know it’s unavoidable, but the feeling I got when I saw your name and didn’t know how serious the crash was. It… I don’t think I can describe the panic,” you take a deep breath, closing your eyes and focusing on the sound of his heartbeat under you. The cool hospital air is a stark contrast to his warmth.

“I’m sorry, it’s the one part of racing I hate too,” George is unsure how to respond. He looks at the blank hospital wall, as if it’ll give him the answer. “I’ll always come home to you, and I have a badass surgeon to take care of me,” he laughs a little, trying to lighten the mood.

“I can only do so much, like brain surgery? You are on your own,” you grin, happy to let the vibe change.

“You could do it, you can do anything,” George says, he always gets gushy when he’s tired.

“Okay, baby, you should get some sleep. I’ll go home and get you clothes. I will be back tomorrow morning to check on you,” you yawn, also needing sleep. George knows you can’t stay in the room too long, and he wouldn’t want you to stay up in an uncomfortable chair.

“I love you. Drive safe,” he mumbles, tiredness washing over him in waves. You fix his sheets and make sure he is okay before kissing him goodnight and leaving. It feels weird, to go home and not have him there. You burn the rest of your anxious energy by reaching out to some good physical therapists that you know to help with George’s recovery.

Under your watchful eye, he makes a recovery similar to Lance’s, even with you fussing the first few races post-injury. You framed one of his x-rays. George had to listen to you talk about how beautiful it was, you claimed it to be your best work. It allows for a good story when having friends over, and it reminds George to not let it happen again.

[thebibliosphere]

If you feel like talking about it — what’s the *aftermath* of anaphylaxis like? I know that an epipen is just step one, and further treatment and observation follows at a hospital, but I’m curious about what the subjective experience is like in the longer term; whether one can bounce back fairly well or whether there’s lingering unpleasantness.

So with the caveat that everyone experiences things differently (and putting this under a cut because I don't want to trigger anyone):

After epi is administered, you're usually put on a cocktail of drugs ranging from several different IV antihistamines (typically a mix of h1 and h2 histamine blockers and a giant whack of benadryl), anti-nausea meds, a beta-agonist to assist with breathing, and a shit-whack of steroids.

Once you've been stable for a few hours and discharged, you'll be told to watch for symptoms for up to 72 hours, which is the period in which a biphasic reaction can happen. (For me, it's always within 20 minutes to 8 hours after rescue medication is administered if I'm going to slip back into an allergic response, but everyone is different.)

Depending on your symptoms, you'll sometimes be told to take an antihistamine for up to 72 hours (if you're not already taking one daily), but the one thing they always send you home with is a steroid like prednisone. I usually need a 5-7 day dose because I need to taper off it or my adrenals crash, but some people get a 3-day dose and come off it with no problems.

Body-wise, it's a draining experience, and the medications often leave you both tired and wired. It's an odd sensation.

Mentally and emotionally, it takes me a lot longer to recover because I've just been smacked with a proverbial mallet of stress hormones and adrenaline, and that can often lead to depressive moods and even rage for some people. The prednisone also heightens emotions, so it's not unusual to be having some of the wildest mood swings of your life while also processing the stress of what just happened.

It takes me a while to bounce back, typically about a week on full rest, but I know some people who claim to feel fine in a couple of days. Couldn't be me, haha. My body goes into hibernation mode for quite a while, and I'll be lying in bed exhausted and jittering like I've had ten espressos, but I don't know how much of that is general anaphylaxis or how much of that is specific to my mast cell disorder.

So, for me, it's a desperate need to sleep, jitteriness, depression, and rapid mood swings from the prednisone followed by a general feeling of blegh. It also takes me about 72 hours to be able to eat solid foods again because of the effect anaphylaxis has on the digestive tract (the esophagus is lined with histamine receptors; that's why some heartburn meds are actually antihistamines.), but I suspect that's my MCAS.

It's basically just a bit shit, lol.

[justabigassnerd]

Unexpected Bond

Pairing - Tim Bradford x teen!reader

Word count - 7,340

Warnings - inaccurate police stuff, injuries, blood, knives, hospitals, swearing, mentions of being harassed/made uncomfortable

Summary - while on patrol, Lucy and Tim help an injured teen and while tracking down her attacker, Tim finds out he has a protective, paternal side

Sequel - 'A Safe Home'

A/N - hey y'all! I know it's been a hot while since I wrote anything and I'm so truly sorry for that. but in binging The Rookie, I found myself wanting to write something for Tim Bradford and so this came to light and so I'm posting it as a test (a Tim Test if you will) to kinda gauge how y'all feel about me writing for a new fandom (again still not finished the show so please don't spoil). As per y'all please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

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The sun was shining in Los Angeles as Tim Bradford and Lucy Chen drove around on patrol, eyes ever so often flicking around in search of illegal activity.

“Come on, you’re seriously not going to let me put the AC on? It’s so hot.” Lucy complains, fighting the urge to stick her head out of the window to get some relief from the sweltering heat inside the shop.

“You know the rules, Boot,” Tim says, sparing Lucy a brief side eye before focusing back on the road. Lucy lets out a slight huff, mentally reminding herself of how much longer she has to obey Tim’s rules before she becomes a P2. Before Lucy could open her mouth to reply in a last-ditch effort to convince Tim to put the AC on, a woman runs out of the nearby park, arms waving wildly and calling out towards the police cruiser.

“We need help!” At the woman’s yells, Tim pulls over, both him and Lucy getting out of the shop as soon as the engine has been turned off before hurrying over to the woman.

“What’s the problem?” Tim asks, a neutral and level tone to his voice to not cause any more panic. In response, the woman begins leading Tim and Lucy into the park, going on a tangent about how she’d been on her morning jog when she stumbled across something she thought was suspicious at first. One glance at Tim and Lucy could tell his patience was wearing thin with the woman skirting around the issue.

“Ma’am, what did you find?” Lucy asks, already bracing herself for what she might find.

“I found this teenage girl curled up on the bench. I thought she was a junkie or homeless so I went to try and move her or something but… she’s bleeding.” The woman says, pointing out the teenage girl curled up on the bench, hand clamped on her side.

“Chen, radio for help.” Tim orders, grabbing his gloves and pulling them on as he approaches the bench, kneeling alongside it while he assesses the damage as best he can.

“Hey kid, can you hear me?” Tim tries, looking from the wound to your face, trying to see how responsive you are. He could tell your breathing was laboured and shallow so all he wanted to do now was treat the wound as best he could and keep you conscious. As Tim gently moves your hand away from your injury, you let out a slight moan of pain, attempting to curl further into yourself.

“I know. I’m sorry. I need to try and slow the bleeding.” Tim apologises softly, hand clamping down on your wound, bunching up the material of your shirt to act as a barrier to prevent any further blood loss. When you groaned in pain once more and blindly swatted at his hand, Tim used his teeth to pull the glove off his spare hand, dropping it on the floor and grabbing your flailing hand in his.

“Okay kid, just squeeze my hand when it hurts. Sound good?” Tim says, getting your response, squeezing his hand tightly, whimpering quietly. Since his plan to try and get you to talk to him wasn't working, though he could only blame the blood loss, he needed to do what he could to ensure you stayed conscious.

“Ambulance is on its way, ETA two minutes,” Lucy says, approaching Tim and watching as he tends to your wound.

“Can you make sure no one crowds around? Paramedics will need quick and easy access and it won’t be easy with these guys watching like it’s a damn circus. But if there is anyone who might know what happened, get a statement.” Tim mutters, aware of the forming crowd, phones in hand as they document the event like they were at a concert. With a nod, Lucy steps back and approaches the crowd, letting them know that the situation is being handled and that they need to get back to their own business.

After a couple of minutes, the ambulance pulls up, and the paramedics soon appear alongside Tim.

“She’s been bleeding since we found her and even before that. From the looks of things, it might be some kind of stab wound. She’s been virtually unresponsive besides squeezing my hand and making a few sounds. She’s definitely out of it because of the blood loss so she needs urgent attention.” Tim says, doing his best to explain the situation with the limited knowledge he had.

“Okay, we’ve got it from here.” One of the paramedics says, easing himself down alongside Tim to assess the damage. Tim carefully moved his hand away from the wound to let the paramedic get to work. As Tim moves to gently release your hand he feels you squeeze tighter as the paramedic begins to place a bandage over your wound to prevent further blood loss until you make it to the hospital.

“I’ve got to let go kid. The paramedics need to do their job.” Tim whispers, a softness to his tone that not many get to hear. At his words, your grip loosened enough for Tim to gently extract his hand before he stepped back, allowing the paramedics to get on with their job while he crossed to Lucy.

“Did anyone see anything?” Tim asks, standing in front of Lucy as he folds his arms and glances around.

“Nothing concrete. Most people around only saw her after she collapsed.” Lucy says defeatedly, closing her notebook and tucking her pen away.

“We’ll follow the ambulance to the hospital. Stick around until the kid’s in the clear and see if we can get a statement.” Tim says with a nod, already beginning to turn around and head back in the direction of their shop with Lucy hot on his heels, radioing control to let them know what they’re going to be doing. Once they get in the vehicle, Tim begins the drive to the hospital fighting the urge to speed the entire way.

To Lucy, it felt like they had gotten to the hospital in record time and she was nearly bursting at the seams to make a light joke about it to Tim but she also didn’t feel like being on the end of a death glare or being made to walk outside the shop while Tim drives. The two enter the hospital and after Tim questions a nurse about the teen girl just brought in, they’re given directions to the ward you’d be in and that you are currently being prepped for minor surgery to control any internal bleeding and Lucy didn’t miss the flash of worry that covered Tim’s face at the mere mention of surgery. The two made their way to where they had been directed and once they reached the waiting room, Lucy took a seat while Tim played the pacing game. Lucy could’ve sworn that Tim pestered the nurses almost a hundred times a minute about any updates regarding your surgery.

“Tim, they’ll let us know when we’re able to try and get a statement from her,” Lucy says, glancing up at Tim as he strides past her once more, stopping him in his tracks.

“I know that. I’m just… worried. Seeing a kid hurt is never easy. I just want to find out who did this to her so we can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Tim says with a sigh, head bowing slightly before glancing over at Lucy who softens a little at her TO’s words. She knew he wasn’t always the hard-ass he presented himself to be in the station, but seeing him so worried about a teenager’s wellbeing was like seeing a whole new side to him. Before Lucy could speak once more, a nurse approached the two, making Lucy get up from her seat.

“Thank you for your patience officers. The surgery has gone smoothly and we’re transferring her to a room now. There will be a bit more of a wait until she comes around before a doctor will assess whether she’s in a good enough condition to be questioned. You’re free to continue your patrol if you wish and we can contact you when she’s ready.” The nurse says, addressing both Lucy and Tim who glance at each other after the nurse has finished talking.

“I think we’ll stick around, thanks,” Tim says with a polite yet curt nod towards the nurse, watching as she walks off before turning to face Lucy.

“What if we’re needed? We can be helping out on the streets and just wait for a call from the hospital before coming back to get a statement.” Lucy asks, looking up at Tim with a shocked and confused expression.

“Who’s in charge here, Boot? If they need us, they’ll radio us. For now, I’d rather wait here, get the kid's statement and stop this guy before another kid gets hurt.” Tim says firmly, resuming his pacing as Lucy sinks back into the uncomfortable waiting room chair, pulling out her phone and texting Jackson in the hope he’ll be able to respond.

After an hour and a half of Tim pacing back and forth and Lucy flipping between texting Jackson and scrolling through various social media, a nurse approaches the two again, stopping Tim in his tracks while Lucy shoves her phone in her pocket and stands up.

“She’s come around and the doctors have cleared her for you to take a statement. However, I will warn you she hasn’t been the most talkative so I don’t know how easy it’ll be to get anything out of her.” The nurse says, leading Tim and Lucy towards the room you have been moved to for recovery.

“Thank you. We’ve got it from here.” Tim says, reaching for the door handle to enter the room.

“Oh, one last thing. We haven’t managed to get a name out of her yet so if you manage to do that please let us know so we can contact whoever necessary.” The nurse quickly adds, making both Tim and Lucy nod before Tim pulls the door open and enters the room with Lucy close behind.

“Hey, kid. I’m Officer Tim Bradford and this is Officer Lucy Chen. We were the first responders on sight when you were found in the park.” Tim introduced both himself and Lucy, noting how shy and withdrawn you looked and made sure to take a gentler approach.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember you guys…” You mumble sheepishly, fiddling with your fingers as your gaze flicks down to your hands to avoid eye contact. Truthfully, you had recognised Tim’s voice the second he started speaking. You don’t think you could ever forget a voice that made you feel so safe in the most terrifying moment of your life.

“Don’t apologise. You suffered a lot of blood loss so it’s understandable that you don’t remember everything. We’ve shared our names, can we get yours?” Tim asks, watching you quietly as you nod.

“It’s y/n. y/n l/n.” You say quietly, briefly glancing up at the two officers, noticing how Lucy noted down your name.

“Have you got any family we can contact?” Lucy asks, looking from her notebook to you as you shake your head.

“No family.” You admit, feeling heat creeping into your cheek as your gaze dropped once more and both Tim and Lucy exchanged a look at your admission.

“So, are you in a children’s home then?” Tim asks, fighting the urge not to frown when you nod your head, confirming his suspicions.

“If you could even call it that.” You mutter, causing Lucy to smoothly change the subject.

“Is there anything you can tell us about who stabbed you?” She asks, both officers noticing how your hand came to rest atop where your injury was.

“I didn’t see a face, he had a hood covering his face. It was the early hours of the morning and all I remember was a guy grabbing me and then the next thing I knew I was stabbed.” You explain, feeling useless that you couldn’t provide more to help.

“And did the stabbing happen in the park? Where we found you?” Tim enquires further, wanting to put together as many details as possible.

“No, I don’t think so. I haven’t been sleeping so well recently so I sneak out and go on walks in the morning to energise myself enough to get through the day. I don’t have a specific route on these walks so maybe… I don’t know.” You say, sighing lightly as you rack your brain for any memory of what happened to you.

“Maybe what?” Tim prods gently, wanting to get as much information as possible.

“The home I’m in really isn’t the best. Most of the kids there end up as drug dealers or in gangs. Maybe I walked onto some gang territory without realising it or maybe I stumbled across something I shouldn’t have I don’t know.” You mumble, trying to make sense of all the information in your head.

“Are you part of any gangs?” Lucy asks, not wanting to sound accusatory but needing an answer.

“No. Not at all. I’m probably the only teenager there who doesn’t get involved in any of that stuff.” You quickly clarify, shaking your head to exaggerate your point.

“But… I’m not the most popular kid in the home either. I wouldn’t be surprised if most of the kids tell their gang members it’s okay to mess with me.” You continue with a shrug, making Tim’s heart hurt at how small and defeated you look.

“Is there anything else you can remember from the stabbing? Anything that could help us identify your attacker?” Tim asks, folding his arms across his chest as he speaks.

“The guy said something, I can’t remember what. But he did have a crazy deep voice. I didn’t know someone could have a voice that deep. I’d probably be able to recognise his voice if I heard it again.” You recall, feeling like you’re scraping the barrel of your knowledge of what happened. At your words, Tim unfolds his arms, digging into his pocket for his card and crossing the room to hold the card out towards you.

“Thank you for your help. If you remember anything else feel free to give us a call.” Tim says with a soft smile, watching as you carefully extract the card from his hand, flipping it over a couple of times and studying the words on it as you nod lightly. As Tim and Lucy move to leave your hospital room you speak up.

“Officers. Thank you… for saving me.” You say, nervousness gripping your stomach as you talk. You knew you had nothing to feel nervous about, after all, they had saved your life.

“No need to thank us, kid. Just focus on getting better.” Tim says with a nod while Lucy bids you a soft goodbye before they both exit your hospital room.

“Okay, Chen we’re going to find out what home y/n is in and then we should scope out the area. Find out what we can about the kids that are in gangs.” Tim says as the two make their way through the hospital.

“And hopefully find someone with a deep enough voice that y/n recognises,” Lucy adds as they both get into the shop.

“I’m hoping we can track the guy down ourselves. I’d rather not have to drag the kid into this if I can help it.” Tim says, starting the engine and pulling out of the parking spot while Lucy busies herself with trying to find out what children's home you’re in. At Tim’s protective words, Lucy raises an eyebrow and smirks lightly.

“So all that talk about me adopting a puppy and you’ve gotten yourself one of your own.” She muses jokingly, watching as Tim glances at her out of the corner of his eyes.

“I did not adopt a puppy. This is a kid who was hurt and there’s a chance she could get hurt again if we don’t do something about it soon. I want to catch the guy who did this to her and get her someplace safe if this home is as bad as she’s making it out to be. You, however, felt bad for someone who stole your car.” Tim defends, trying not to let on how worried he truly is about you. Lucy, unconvinced by his words, nods and focuses her attention back to the computer. 

“We’ve got a location of the home. Let’s head over there.” Lucy reports, giving Tim the address and beginning to do further background research as Tim begins driving in the direction of the children’s home. The drive didn’t take long from the park where they had found you and as they neared, both Tim and Lucy began to understand why you had said it wasn’t a good home.

The children’s home was located in a run-down area, just one look around the neighbourhood and anyone could tell that crime thrives in it. Just the mere presence of Tim and Lucy was already garnering them weird looks as they parked outside of the children’s home and exited their shop, crossing to the front door and knocking on it before taking a step back to wait for someone to open the door.

“What do you want?” The door is thrown open and Tim comes face to face with a short man who quickly notices Tim and Lucy’s uniforms and straightens up.

“Sorry. What can I do for you officers?” He amends his words, painting on a large smile that anyone could tell was fake.

“I’m Officer Bradford and this is Officer Chen. May we come in?” Tim asks, already beginning to make his way towards the door as the man holds it open to allow them both in.

“Let’s talk in my office. I’m Stan.” He introduces himself and leads the two towards his office, a small murky room piled high with paperwork.

“A teenager who is in your care, y/n l/n, was found stabbed in the park not too far from here. Do you have any idea who might’ve done this to her?” Lucy begins as Stan takes his seat behind his desk.

“y/n was stabbed? That’s a real shame.” Stan says, making Tim cock an eyebrow at his faux sincerity.

“She’s in the hospital recovering from her injuries. Again, do you know of anyone who might like to hurt her? She mentioned that a lot of the kids around here wind up involved with gangs. Do any of them have reason to hurt her?” Tim asks, watching as Stan shrugs lightly.

“If I’m honest, the kid was an easy target. She’s been here since she was practically a baby so being the longest-running kid in the home is bound to put a little bit of a target on your back.” Stan says nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair while Lucy notices Tim clench his jaw.

“So you’re telling us you allowed those kids to pick on her just because she was an ‘easy target’ in your eyes?” Lucy asks, hoping that somehow she was wrong in how she interpreted Stan’s words.

“I know who those kids hang out with. I’m not looking to put myself in the line of fire for her.” At Stan’s words, Tim was unable to hold himself back from an outburst.

“You willingly let kids bully y/n because you were scared of the company they keep? Maybe they wouldn’t go out running around in gangs if you looked after the kids that are supposed to be in your care.” Tim says lowly, edging closer to the desk and bracing his hands on it, leaning closer to Stan to get his point across.

“Tim, let’s not do this. Stan, if you think of anything that might help us find y/n’s attacker, give us a call.” Lucy says, gently guiding Tim away from the desk before placing a card down on the desk and leading Tim out of the building.

“y/n is not going back there. I won’t let her.” Tim says the moment they leave the home, practically seething with rage as he makes his way back to the shop.

“I know this home clearly has some serious issues but you won’t be able to just up and move her as easily as you might think,” Lucy says, getting into the vehicle as Tim starts the engine.

“I’ll find a way. I’ll find the ass that hurt her. Find a way to prove Stan doesn’t give a shit about the kids in his care and then I’ll make sure y/n has someplace safe to go to once she’s out of hospital.” Tim says as if he held all the answers in his newly formed plan.

“Okay, you’re getting worked up about this so let’s take lunch and talk this all through. We’ll try and come up with a game plan to find the guy who hurt y/n and after that, we’ll tackle the other problem.” Lucy says calmly, doing what she can to make sure Tim relaxes, knowing he couldn’t go around the neighbourhood with this attitude. At her words, Tim lets out a long sigh before nodding and beginning to drive in the direction of someplace to get food.

After finding a place to have some lunch, Lucy and Tim sit down opposite each other and begin to talk through the minimal facts they have about the case so far.

“She was stabbed in the morning, I’d assume maybe an hour or so before we found her.” Lucy starts, consulting her notebook.

“But she wasn’t stabbed at the park so we can assume she walked from where she was stabbed to the park. Maybe she was looking for help.” Tim says, lifting his drink to take a sip.

“We could radio the unit that arrived on scene after we left and see if there are any blood trails that might help us find where the stabbing happened. Maybe the attacker tried to ditch the weapon nearby.” Lucy muses, leaning back against her chair as she thinks.

“If it’s a gang member I doubt they’d be stupid enough to leave the weapon nearby. But then again there’s always the chance so it might be worth a try.” Tim admits, finishing his food and downing his drink while Lucy does the same. As they dispose of their trash, Tim’s phone rings, making him dig it out of his pocket to answer it while Lucy waits.

“Hello?” He answers.

“Officer Bradford, is that you?” Your quiet voice comes through the other end of the phone, timid as if you were afraid of bothering him.

“y/n, is everything okay?” Tim asks, an instant bout of worry gripping him.

“I’m sorry if I called at a bad time I just… I remembered something about the attack and I don’t know if it’ll help.” You say, and Tim can hear the worry and fear in your voice of potentially being an inconvenience to him.

“No, you’re fine. I’ll swing by the hospital and you can tell me about what it is you remember. Does that sound good?” Tim says gently, doing his best to reassure you over the phone.

“Okay.” You whisper before hanging up the phone and leaving Tim to turn to Lucy.

“Was that y/n?” Lucy asks, studying Tim’s reaction carefully.

“Yeah. She said she remembered some stuff about the attack.” Tim says, shoving his phone in his pocket and making his way towards the shop while Lucy follows behind.

“Do you think this information will help us find her attacker?” Lucy asks as she gets in the passenger seat.

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to pressure her. But we’ll do what we can with it.” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive, once again, to the hospital.

When they arrived at the hospital, they headed straight to the room you were in and knocked on the door before letting themselves in upon receiving your permission.

“You came.” You said, the smallest, shy smile on your face when you realised that they had come when you asked and both officers had noticed the notebook and pencil you had in hand.

“Of course,” Tim says with a nod and a gentle smile.

“You like drawing?” Lucy asks gently, moving to sit on one of the nearby chairs, easing herself down gently as you shake your head lightly.

“Not really. I just remembered one detail about the guy who attacked me and I figured it would be best if I try to draw it.” You admit, attempting to tidy up the rough sketch on the paper.

“What was the detail?” Tim then asks, easing down into the other chair as they both watch you quietly.

“The guy who attacked me had a scar that looked like this on his hand.” You say, flipping the paper around and showing it to Tim and Lucy.

“That looks like…” Lucy begins.

“A brand.” Tim finishes, glancing from the paper to you as you nod.

“There’s a kid in the home I’m in, Kevin, he’s always acted really weird around me and even asked me out a few times despite knowing how uncomfortable he makes me. I know he’s part of this gang and all the members are branded somewhere on their bodies. I know Kevin definitely wasn’t the guy who stabbed me but I think he asked one of the other members of his gang to hurt me.” You explain as Lucy takes the sketch from you, studying it closely.

“This Kevin, has he ever threatened to hurt you to your face?” Tim asks, already fighting back the seething rage beginning to build up.

“Never outright. But the last time I rejected him he did tell me that I’d regret it.” You say, remembering that moment from a couple of nights ago.

“And did he ever… do anything else?” Tim enquires further, hoping for a specific answer while preparing himself for the worst.

“No. I don’t know if he ever would’ve tried anything, but growing up in that home meant I knew where all the best places to lay low were when he did get extra clingy. And I also try to spend as much time out of the home and away from that neighbourhood as possible.” You explain, fiddling with the corner of the cover laid across you.

“So you believe he told a member of that gang to hurt you because you wouldn’t date him?” Lucy clarifies, feeling her heart break when you nod.

“Okay, we’re going to try to find that kid and talk to him about this gang of his,” Tim states, moving to stand up and exit the room with Lucy following behind.

“Wait!” Your desperate cry stops Tim in his tracks, making him turn to face you.

“What’s wrong?” Tim asks, worried as to why you had reacted like that.

“Don’t tell Kevin or anyone I told you about this. If they find out I squealed… I don’t know what they’ll do to me.” You say, vaguely hearing the increased beeping coming from the heart monitor in your panicked state.

“Hey, y/n, take some deep breaths for me, okay?” Tim quickly strides across the room to you, placing his hands on your shoulders and getting you to look up at him. He takes a few exaggerated deep breaths which you mimic shakily, each breath coming smoother than the last until you’ve regained control of your breathing and your heartbeat has begun to settle into a steady rhythm once more.

“That’s it, kid, just like that.” Tim then praises gently as he feels the tension leaving your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze before releasing his grip. As Tim lets go, you lift your hand to wipe at your suddenly watery eyes, trying not to flinch at the slight pain from the movement.

“We won’t tell anyone there about what you told us. I promise.” Lucy says, knowing that the number one rule of being a police officer was that they couldn’t promise anything but seeing how Tim nodded lightly in agreement confirmed that this was one promise that they could make.

“We’ll go and try and find information. But we won’t mention you at all. They won’t know you told us. Promise.” Tim assures you, stepping back and joining Lucy by the door.

“Hang tight, y/n. We’ll stop that guy.” Lucy says with a soft smile, folding up the sketch she still had in hand and putting it in her pocket with your permission before both she and Tim exit your hospital room, making their way back to their shop to go in search of further answers. They make their way back to the neighbourhood of the children’s home and instead of heading to the children’s home, they do a walk around the area, both of them noticing how people watch them carefully, wary of what they might do.

“Someone around here has to be a part of that gang y/n was talking about, right?” Lucy asks quietly, walking alongside Tim as they observe their surroundings.

“I’d put money on it. But we can’t exactly go up to them and ask. We have to be subtle.” Tim says, noticing how they were beginning to approach two teenage boys who were leaning against a wall, talking amongst themselves.

“Don’t usually get cops around here.” One of the teenagers says, loud enough for Tim and Lucy to hear, making them exchange a quick look before they turn to face the teens.

“We’re patrolling the area. Got a problem?” Tim accuses, folding his arms across his chest as he stares down at the two teenagers.

“Patrolling for what?” The other asks, both of them clearly unafraid of Tim and Lucy’s presence.

“There’s been some incidents around here and we just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” Lucy lies easily, hands resting on her belt as her eyes flick between the two boys.

“Are you accusing us of what happened with that bitch this morning?” One of the teens suddenly becomes accusatory, making Lucy raise her eyebrows in slight shock at the tone.

“No one’s accusing you of anything. In fact, neither of us mentioned an incident this morning. Is there anything you can tell us about it?” Tim then asks cooly, noticing how the teens twitch a little in their realisation about being caught out.

“It wasn’t us.” One of them says, instantly on the defensive, his voice harsh.

“We’re not saying it is you. We’re simply asking if you know anything.” Lucy says, holding a hand out to try and calm the tension she could sense building.

“We don’t know anything.” The other teen says, both of them then turning on their heels and stalking off somewhere else.

“As suspicious as that was. They didn’t do it.” Tim states, letting out a soft sigh and watching them walk away.

“Neither of them had a deep voice. At least not one matching y/n’s description. But did you see-”

“One of them had the brand on his arm. We’re definitely in the right place.” Tim finishes, eyes flicking around the streets in search of other people to question.

“Can I help you, officers? I’m Toby.” A deep voice comes from behind Tim and Lucy, making them exchange a look before they turn to face the owner of the voice. They quickly came face to face with someone who looked to be in his early twenties, he was not much shorter than Tim and they could only assume he did a lot of heavy lifting with how he was built.

“There was a stabbing this morning. A girl about fifteen years old was the victim. Do you know anything about it?” Tim asks smoothly, not showing any signs of suspicion as he watches Toby’s reaction.

“A stabbing? I haven’t heard anything about it.” He says, shrugging lightly before folding his arms across his chest, displaying the brand that you had described on his hand.

“Nothing at all?” Lucy prompts, glancing from Toby to Tim who nods the slightest amount.

“Nothing.” Toby confirms.

“That’s funny. We did some investigating and apparently her attacker was part of the same gang with those exact brands. According to some people we spoke to, the attacker had a deep voice and had a branding scar on his hand. Would you like to revise your answer?” Lucy says, staring down Toby whose calm and collected look shifts and soon a knife is being brandished towards the two of them, making Tim grab Lucy’s arm and pull her behind him.

“She should’ve thought twice before she turned down Kevin. The bitch just got what she deserved.” He says angrily, knife pointed directly at Tim to keep them at a distance.

“I think she’s well within her rights to turn someone down if she doesn’t like them,” Tim says calmly, not wanting to aggravate him any more.

“Kevin is my bro and I’ll look out for him like he’s my own family. If that means getting rid of some bitch who won’t date him then that’s what I’ll do.” Toby says, making Tim clench his jaw.

“Alright. I’ve heard enough.” Tim states, fed up and angered by what he’s been hearing. Without warning, Tim lunged forward, grabbing Toby’a wrist, and twisting it until the knife clattered to the floor before pinning his arm behind his back. Tim then pulls his handcuffs out of his belt and handcuffs his hands together while Lucy radios control to let them know of the situation.

“Grab the knife,” Tim instructs Lucy, already pushing Toby towards the shop while Lucy does what she’s asked. The closer they get to the shop, the more Tim becomes aware of the pairs of eyes watching them. He gets Toby into the shop then both Tim and Lucy get into the front seats.

“Are we going to let y/n know we got the guy?” Lucy asks, briefly glancing back at Toby before looking at Tim who nods lightly.

“Once we’ve processed this asshole I’m going to head back over to the hospital and let her know we’ve caught the guy,” Tim says, starting the engine and beginning the drive over to the station.

“That’s good. I think it’ll be good for her to know.” Lucy agrees, nodding slightly and focusing her attention on the passing scenery.

“You’re wasting an awful lot of time focusing on her. What makes her so important?” Toby grumbles from the backseat.

“No one asked for your input. You and that other kid are the reason she’s in this mess in the first place.” Tim says angrily, eyes flicking up to the rearview mirror to glare at him. The rest of the journey back to the station was relatively quiet, with Toby attempting to speak up every so often, only to be silenced by Tim’s silent glare.

When they made it to the station, Tim and Lucy processed Toby as quickly as possible, practically shoving him into one of the cells the moment they were able to and finish up the paperwork in record time.

“Are you coming with me or not, Boot?” Tim asks, already making his way back towards the shop after finishing processing.

“I’m coming,” Lucy says, rushing to Tim’s side, both of them get back in their shop and make their way back to the hospital. Upon arrival, the hospital seemed much quieter, meaning Tim and Lucy didn’t have to swerve through seas of people to make their way to your room. When they reach your room, they knock once more and enter with permission, both of them smiling at you as they walk in.

“We’ve got some good news,” Lucy says with a smile, noticing how your eyes lit up the slightest bit at her words.

“We apprehended the person who hurt you. He’s not going to get near you again.” Tim says, his smile matching Lucy’s as you smile at their words.

“Thank you.” You whisper, fighting back the threat of teary eyes as the relief sets in.

“We’re just doing our jobs. No need to thank us.” Lucy says softly, approaching the bed and taking your hand in hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m going to open an investigation into the home. See if I can get it closed or something. Or at the very least get you moved somewhere else so you don’t have to deal with that Kevin anymore.” Tim adds, watching as you look from Lucy to him.

“You don’t need to do that.” You start.

“I do. Nothing about that place is safe for you. Even when we do get the okay to arrest Kevin, that home isn’t a stable or safe environment for you. So I want to do what I can to help you out.” Tim says, smoothly cutting you off and stepping closer to your bedside, his gaze soft as he looks down at you.

“I don’t want you guys potentially getting hurt on my behalf.” You mumble, wiping at your eyes with your free hand to prevent any tears from falling.

“Let us worry about ourselves. All you have to do is worry about getting better. We’ll handle everything else.” Tim says reassuringly, his gentle smile calming and encouraging as you take some deep breaths to calm down.

“I owe you both so much.” You say gratefully after you’ve calmed down, smiling shyly at your saviours.

“You don’t owe us anything. We were just doing our jobs.” Lucy says softly, her smile still as gentle as ever. The three of you continued to converse for a few more minutes, both Tim and Lucy noticing how you became more confident in talking to them, but Lucy had noticed how you were more comfortable with Tim. And she hadn’t missed how Tim had practically switched into a whole new man around you. He was much softer and fatherly towards you. After a few minutes, Tim notices the time on his watch and sighs lightly.

“We should head out,” Tim says regrettably, glancing over at Lucy who nods softly.

“Look after yourself y/n,” Lucy says as they cross to the door.

“If I don’t die of boredom first. There’s nothing to do here.” You say with a light chuckle, lying back in the bed and staring up at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, kid. I’m sure if you ask a nurse they could find you something to do.” Tim says apologetically, offering the best solution he could think of at the moment before both he and Lucy bid you goodbye and head out to finish the rest of their shifts.

The rest of their shift went smoothly, the only crimes they encountered being things like reckless driving and noise complaints. By the time they had made it back to the station for the end of their shift, Tim wanted to input his request for an investigation into the children’s home you had spent your life in. He wasn’t usually picky about which detectives might take his investigation requests but he wanted to make sure Angela picked up this case. He knew she’d keep him in the loop and let him help out if he wanted. After talking to Angela and getting her on board with looking into the home, Tim thanked her and then headed out to his truck.

On his way back to his house, Tim drove past a store, pulled into the car park and found someplace to park after remembering he needed to pick up a few things. He entered the store, grabbing the things he needed before stumbling across a book aisle in the store. He stood in front of the aisle for a few moments before letting out a soft sigh, digging into his pocket for his phone and stepping into the aisle.

Unbeknownst to Tim, Lucy had also entered the store five minutes after he did, not even aware that Tim was there. She browsed the aisles, searching for what she and Jackson needed until she also found herself by the book aisle. She looked up the aisle and saw Tim standing in front of a selection of books. One hand holding a book, the other holding his phone as he studied the screen intently.

“Looking for book recommendations?” Lucy asks, chuckling to herself when Tim jumps, head whipping around and visibly relaxing upon realising it is Lucy talking to him.

“I was just- y/n mentioned she was bored so I thought I’d grab her a couple of books to give her tomorrow so she can pass the time until she’s out of the hospital,” Tim says, showing Lucy his phone and how he’d been looking up popular books for your age group to pick out the best ones for you.

“Here, let me help.” Lucy offers, taking the book from Tim’s hand, inspecting it quietly before nodding and putting it in Tim’s basket before plucking another book off the shelf, and handing it to Tim to judge after reading the blurb herself.

“You know… you could foster y/n if you wanted.” Lucy says softly after Tim puts the book back, and grabs another to look at.

“What?” Tim asks, no anger behind his voice, but confusion.

“You’re really good with her. It’s clear you care about her and she’s comfortable with you. Fostering her would keep her out of the home while the investigation is ongoing. Plus it would keep her safe and away from that neighbourhood.” Lucy explains herself, watching as Tim falls silent, putting the book he had in his hand in his basket.

“I don’t know. My career isn’t the safest thing in the world and I don’t want someone to potentially use her to get to me.” Tim explains with a sigh.

“I get that. It’s your choice. But she definitely feels safer with you than anyone else.” Lucy says softly, offering Tim one last book before turning on her heels to make her way through the rest of the store, leaving Tim alone.

When Tim gets home, he’s greeted by Kojo who rushes over to Tim happily, demanding to get attention which Tim is more than happy to provide. Once Kojo trots off, happy to entertain himself while Tim unpacks the things he bought. As he unpacks, he sets aside the two books he and Lucy had picked out for you, as well as a few packets of candy and chocolates. Tim was sure he was going overboard but he wanted to make sure that what was left of your hospital stay was pleasant.

After organising everything, Tim makes himself dinner, making sure to feed Kojo while he waits for his food to cook. Once his food is ready, Tim sits himself down to eat and watch the football game he’d been waiting to watch all day. However, as he watched the game, he found himself distracted by the option Lucy had brought up to him at the store. He knew she was right, he couldn’t deny how much he had come to care for you in a short period of time. But he also didn’t want to risk bringing more harm to you through his job. Tim’s focus on the football game began to dwindle as he debated the idea of fostering you back and forth in his head. As if he could sense Tim’s dilemma, Kojo approached Tim, hopping up onto the sofa and resting his head on Tim’s leg, letting out a soft whine while Tim pets his head. Eventually, Tim concluded his internal debate as he was putting his dirty dishes in the dishwasher. Upon finally concluding, Tim grabbed his laptop and returned to the sofa, settling down alongside Kojo once more, opening it and typing in one simple question.

‘How to foster a child?’