Abby

[satellite-evans]

hula hoop

Pairing: Jack Abbot x reader

Summary: After a violent patient attack leaves you critically injured, Jack is forced to confront what it means to almost lose the person he loves.

Word count: 12k+

Warnings: patience violence, severe injury, angst, fluff

A/N:

read part 2 here

hey guys !! i’m genuinely so excited to finally post my first jack abbot fic, and i’m so excited for you guys to read it 😭

because tumblr hates me and this fic apparently exceeded the block limit, i had to split it into two parts <3 but i really hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed emotionally ruining myself while writing it.

anyways !!! thank you so much for reading, and please be nice this is my first time writing for the pitt/jack hahahah. if i used any medical terms wrong, my apologies 🫶

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

The rain had started sometime before dawn.

By the time you merged onto the interstate, the entire city looked washed out and miserable beneath sheets of gray rain and smeared headlights reflecting across wet pavement. Your windshield wipers moved at full speed and still barely kept up with the storm. The coffee sitting untouched in your cupholder had gone cold nearly an hour ago, though you were honestly too exhausted to care anymore.

The overnight shift had turned into fifteen hours instead of eight after two trauma admissions arrived back-to-back near the end of the night, and now every muscle in your body ached with the kind of exhaustion that settled deep into your bones. You genuinely could not remember the last time you slept more than four uninterrupted hours.

Traffic slowed suddenly ahead of you.

At first you assumed construction or flooding because of the weather, but then smoke curled upward through the rain and your stomach dropped immediately.

Cars sat mangled across three lanes of traffic at impossible angles. One SUV had spun into the median while another sedan looked almost folded around the back of a delivery truck, its front end crushed so badly it barely resembled a vehicle anymore. Hazard lights blinked weakly through the storm while people stumbled across the interstate in shock.

Your body moved before your brain fully caught up.

“Oh my God.”

You were already unbuckling your seatbelt before the car completely stopped.

Adrenaline sliced straight through your exhaustion hard enough to make your hands shake as you reached for the trauma bag in the passenger seat. Rain hit you instantly the second you shoved the door open, cold water soaking through your clothes within seconds while distant screaming echoed somewhere through the storm.

Someone yelled that a driver was trapped.

Another voice screamed for a medic.

A woman near the shoulder sobbed hard enough she could barely breathe, blood running down the side of her forehead while a man beside her stood completely frozen, staring blankly at the wreckage like his brain had stopped processing reality altogether.

You were already running.

“I’m a doctor,” you shouted over the rain. “Move back and give me some room.”

People listened immediately.

The trapped driver looked somewhere in his forties, pinned awkwardly behind the wheel of the crushed sedan. Blood streamed from a scalp laceration down the side of his face while the airbags hung deflated around him. His breathing came too fast beneath the sound of rain hammering against twisted metal, panic beginning to sharpen around the edges of every inhale.

You crouched carefully beside the shattered driver’s side window, ignoring the glass biting through your scrub pants into your knees.

“Hey,” you said, forcing calmness into your voice despite the adrenaline roaring through your chest. “Can you hear me?”

The man blinked slowly toward you, dazed. “Think so.”

“Good. That’s good.” You adjusted the flashlight between your fingers while quickly checking his pupils. “What’s your name?”

“Leon.”

“Okay, Leon. I’m Dr. Y/L/N.” Your voice stayed steady automatically, years of emergency medicine taking over before panic had a chance to settle in. “Don’t move your neck for me, alright?”

A shaky breath of laughter escaped him. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Despite everything, you smiled a little.

“You’re doing great,” you assured him quietly. “Stay with me.”

And he did.

His eyes kept finding yours every few seconds like you were the only stable thing left in the middle of the chaos.

Your hands moved automatically after that.

Pressure against the head wound. Monitoring responsiveness. Keeping him conscious and talking while you assessed what you could from outside the vehicle. Rainwater mixed with blood beneath your fingers while traffic backed up for what looked like miles behind you, headlights glowing dimly through the storm.

Leon kept looking at you every few seconds like you were the only stable thing left in the middle of the chaos.

“You work at the PTMC?” he asked weakly after spotting the hospital logo embroidered onto your soaked jacket.

“Unfortunately.”

That got a real laugh out of him, brief and pained but enough that relief loosened slightly in your chest.

“You always this calm when you see a car crash?”

You let out a tired breath through your nose. “No. I’m panicking beautifully internally.”

That made him laugh again.

Patients relaxed faster once they laughed. It was something you learned early in residency, fear loosened the second people felt human again instead of helpless.

So you stayed with him.

Even after the paramedics arrived.

Even after they started finishing the extrication, peeling back what remained of the driver’s side door while rain poured endlessly over the wreckage.

You stayed crouched beside him talking him through every step because shock was already creeping in around the edges of his expression, and every time panic threatened to overwhelm him again, his eyes found yours immediately.

“You’re okay,” you kept saying quietly. “Stay with me. You’re okay.”

The interstate blurred around you in streaks of red brake lights and flashing hazards. Rain soaked through your jacket and scrubs completely now, damp fabric clinging uncomfortably to your skin while your hair stuck to the back of your neck. The adrenaline that had carried you through the crash scene was already fading, leaving behind an exhaustion so heavy it felt physical.

An EMT looked up from the stretcher and did a double take.

“Dr. Y/L/N?”

You snapped back into focus automatically.

“Male, approximately forty-two. Restrained driver. Brief LOC reported by witnesses. GCS fifteen currently. Complaining of left-sided rib pain. Possible concussion. Neuro status intact for now, but keep an eye on him.”

The EMT nodded once while adjusting the cervical collar. “Got it.”

They moved quickly after that, securing straps, checking vitals, loading equipment through the rain while Leon tracked every movement with the wide-eyed focus of someone trying very hard not to think too much about what had almost happened.

Your knees ached from kneeling on broken glass. Your hands had started trembling slightly now that nobody urgently needed anything from you anymore.

But you stayed beside him anyway.

Leon caught your wrist weakly just before the paramedics closed the ambulance doors.

“Hey.”

You looked up immediately.

His face looked pale beneath the blood and rainwater, eyes glassy with pain and adrenaline, but there was something steadier there too.

Gratitude maybe.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

The words landed somewhere deeper than they should have.

You swallowed hard before giving his hand one quick squeeze.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Of course.”

For a second, you just stood there breathing.

The interstate still smelled like gasoline and smoke. Somewhere farther down the road another paramedic shouted instructions while tow trucks crawled through the rain toward the wreckage. Traffic in the opposite lanes slowed almost to a stop as people stared through fogged windows at what was left of the crash.

“You riding in with us?” one of the EMTs asked.

You glanced once toward your abandoned car still trapped in unmoving traffic nearly half a mile behind the accident scene. The thought of trying to get back to it right now felt impossible.

“Yeah,” you answered tiredly.

The ambulance doors shut behind you a second later, sealing you inside with the sharp smell of antiseptic, wet clothing, and adrenaline.

Leon talked for almost the entire ride to the hospital.

Nervous talking.

The kind trauma patients did when they were scared enough to fill every silence because silence meant thinking too hard about how close they came to dying. You’d seen it hundreds of times before. Some people cried. Some got angry. Some went terrifyingly quiet.

Leon talked.

So you let him.

He rambled about his job, about his daughter’s soccer game this weekend, about how his wife was going to kill him for wrecking the car because they still hadn’t finished paying it off. Every few sentences his voice shook slightly before he forced another joke out anyway.

You stayed beside him the whole ride, monitoring pupils and vitals while keeping him talking just enough to assess mental status without making it obvious you were doing it.

“You always pick up patients on the highway on your day off?” he asked weakly at one point.

You let out a tired breath of laughter. “Only the lucky ones.”

That earned another shaky smile from him.

The ambulance doors burst open, paramedics already rolling the stretcher down the bay entrance while rainwater dripped steadily from the wheels onto the floor.

By the time the ambulance rolled through the bay doors at The Pitt, you were freezing hard enough your teeth almost hurt. Your scrubs were soaked completely through, your shoes squelching against the floor while trauma staff moved around you in organized chaos.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Santos called across the ER the second she spotted you climbing out of the ambulance bay. “Always a pleasure seeing you this early, Iron Woman.”

You groaned immediately.

You earned the nickname after accidentally mistaking a patient for Robert Downey Jr. during a twenty-hour shift.

To be fair, the goatee had been identical.

“Dana,” you called immediately, falling into step beside the stretcher. “What’s open?”

Dana barely looked up from the nurses’ station. “Trauma Two’s clear.”

“Perfect.” You pushed damp hair back from your face before glancing toward the department. “Whitaker, Javadi, you’re with me. Perlah, can you help set up Two?”

Perlah nodded immediately and disappeared ahead of the group while Whitaker grabbed gloves from the wall dispenser on his way past.

“You look cold,” Whitaker informed you conversationally.

“Thank you,” you replied flatly.

Javadi appeared beside the stretcher while all of you pushed through the trauma bay doors together. “What happened?”

“Restrained driver, approximately forty-two,” you answered automatically. “High-speed MVA during the storm. Brief LOC reported by witnesses. GCS fifteen on arrival, complaining of left-sided rib pain and worsening headache. Possible concussion.”

“Vitals stable en route,” one of the paramedics added while helping transfer Leon onto the trauma bed.

Whitaker immediately started attaching monitors while Javadi pulled supplies from cabinets with the frantic efficiency of someone still trying very hard to look calmer than she actually felt.

Then Jack looked up from the computer station.

And somehow, in the middle of the packed emergency department, everything softened slightly around the edges.

You caught the exact moment recognition crossed his face. The exhaustion behind his eyes shifted immediately into concern as his gaze moved slowly over you. Soaked scrubs, blood smeared across your gloves, rainwater dripping steadily from your hair onto the floor beneath you.

Jack crossed the trauma bay almost immediately.

“You okay?” he asked quietly. “What happened? I thought you went home.”

His voice grounded you in a way almost nothing else could anymore.

Maybe it was because he always sounded calm even during chaos. Maybe it was because after years together your body recognized him before your brain consciously caught up. Or maybe it was simply that exhaustion hit harder the second somebody else arrived to help carry it.

“I’m fine,” you answered automatically while stripping off your soaked gloves and replacing them with clean ones. “Probably need a head CT.”

Jack’s expression tightened instantly.

“For you?”

You blinked at him before realizing what you’d said. “What? No. For the patient.”

Behind you, Perlah had already started cutting away Leon’s soaked shirt while Whitaker attached cardiac leads to his chest.

“BP’s holding,” Whitaker called.

“Sinus tach at one-ten,” Javadi added while checking another monitor. “Probably pain and adrenaline.”

“Good,” you answered automatically before stepping back beside the bed.

“Where’s Robby?”

“Overdose in Four,” Dana answered from the doorway.

You nodded once and reached for your penlight again, checking Leon’s pupils carefully while rain continued tapping faintly against the ambulance bay doors behind you.

Santos wandered into Trauma Two looking personally offended. “Why does huckleberry and crash get invited? I can help.”

“You can stand there and look pretty while actual doctors save lives,” you shot back immediately.

Santos gasped dramatically. “Dr. Abbot, your girlfriend is bullying me again.”

“She bullies everybody,” Jack muttered.

But there was no heat behind it.

His eyes lingered on you a second too long.

You knew that look by now.

Jack had spent years in emergency medicine learning how to bury concern beneath sarcasm and exhaustion, but you still caught it every time. He noticed the dark circles under your eyes. The slight tremor beginning in your hands now that the adrenaline was wearing off. The way your shoulders sagged whenever you thought nobody was looking.

“You’re freezing,” he said quietly.

“You are correct. I am freezing.”

Without another word, Jack pulled his hoodie off the back of the nurses’ station chair and draped it carefully around your shoulders before you could protest. It was still warm from him, smelling faintly like coffee, antiseptic, and the cologne he only remembered to wear maybe twice a month.

Something in your chest tightened stupidly at the gesture.

Behind him, Santos gagged theatrically. “Oh my God. Romance in the trauma bay. I’m going to throw up.”

“Go chart something,” Jack said flatly.

Whitaker looked up from the monitor leads. “Actually, I think it's very sweet."

“You’re all miserable,” you informed them while pulling the hoodie tighter around yourself.

“No,” Javadi corrected while checking Leon’s blood pressure. “You two are just aggressively in love in public.”

Jack looked genuinely offended. “Aggressively? I don't get it."

Despite yourself, you laughed softly while stepping back toward Leon’s bedside.

Leon noticed the interaction immediately.

“That your boyfriend?” he asked weakly from the trauma bed.

“Husband to the emergency department,” you corrected while snapping fresh gloves on. “Boyfriend in real life.”

Jack rolled his eyes while typing orders into the computer. “Don’t encourage her, Leon.”

Leon grinned despite the pain. “You guys are disgustingly cute.”

Under the brighter trauma lights, bruising had already started blooming dark purple across his ribs beneath the rain-soaked skin.

“Headache worse?” you asked while checking his pupils again.

“A little.”

“You nauseous?”

“Not yet.”

“Good,” you answered. “Let’s keep it that way.”

Javadi palpated carefully along his left side while Whitaker adjusted the blood pressure cuff.

“There’s something strangely comforting about you people,” Leon admitted weakly after a moment.

“You say that now,” Javadi muttered.

That earned another tired laugh from him before he winced sharply afterward.

“There it is,” you said softly. “Still joking. Good sign, buddy.”

There was something oddly comforting about patients who stayed conversational. After years in emergency medicine, you learned to appreciate moments where humanity still existed between procedures and bloodwork and trauma assessments.

Sometimes those tiny conversations mattered almost as much as the medicine itself.

Jack stepped beside you while reviewing Leon’s vitals, his shoulder brushing yours briefly in the cramped trauma bay. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, damp fabric, and rainwater now that Leon’s soaked clothing had finally been cut away.

“You should change,” Jack murmured quietly while adjusting one of the monitor leads. “I got this, baby.”

You barely glanced at him, still focused on the chart. “Don’t worry. I’ll survive.”

A tired look crossed his face immediately.

“That’s usually what people say right before passing out.”

You shot him a look over your shoulder, though exhaustion dulled most of the energy behind it. “You’re dramatic.”

“You’ve been awake how long now?”

“Eighteen hours.”

Jack stared at you flatly. “That’s not comforting.”

“You stopped at a major accident scene after an eighteen-hour shift?” Javadi asked incredulously.

You shrugged slightly.

And that alone made Jack’s jaw tighten, because that was exactly the kind of thing you always did.

The adrenaline carrying you through the crash scene had almost completely faded now, leaving behind exhaustion so heavy it felt physical. Your wet clothes clung coldly to your skin beneath Jack’s hoodie while every muscle in your body ached now that the immediate crisis had passed.

Jack exhaled softly through his nose before lowering his voice.

“You don’t always have to run yourself into the ground trying to save everybody.”

The words landed harder than they should have.

You focused instead on adjusting Leon’s blanket over his chest, smoothing the fabric carefully just to give your hands something else to do.

Jack knew you too well by now to push after saying something like that.

That was part of what made loving him dangerous sometimes. He noticed things you worked very hard to hide from everybody else.

He noticed the way your hands trembled after bad trauma calls once the adrenaline wore off. How you skipped meals without realizing it during difficult shifts. How every patient death stayed with you longer than you ever admitted aloud.

Jack had spent years in emergency medicine learning how to compartmentalize just enough to survive it, which somehow only made him better at recognizing when you weren’t doing the same.

His hand brushed briefly against the small of your back as he moved toward the monitors again.

“Don’t worry, Leon,” Jack said easily while checking the cardiac tracing. “You’re in good hands.”

Leon looked toward him before his gaze drifted back to you.

“I figured that out already,” he said softly. “She stopped on the interstate for me.”

You glanced up from the chart, slightly surprised by how steady his voice sounded now despite everything.

“You didn’t have to do all that,” Leon continued quietly.

You shrugged lightly, pushing damp hair away from your face. “Part of the job.”

“Maybe,” he answered softly, still watching you carefully. “But most people would’ve kept driving.”

Something warm and uncomfortable settled low in your chest at that.

Most patients never saw the moments in between all of this. They saw calm voices and steady hands. They saw competence because that was what they needed from you in moments like these.

They never saw the aftermath.

The exhaustion. The panic doctors swallowed in real time just to keep functioning. The way people occasionally locked themselves in supply closets for thirty seconds after bad cases just to breathe before walking back out like nothing happened.

But Leon had seen you kneeling beside twisted metal in freezing rain with blood on your hands while traffic screamed past only feet away.

He’d seen the human part too.

And somehow that felt far more exposing than expected.

Before you could answer, something shifted.

Subtle.

Small enough most people in the room probably would have missed it entirely.

But after years in emergency medicine, your body noticed changes before your brain consciously caught up.

Leon’s breathing changed.

One second it was slow and uneven with postictal exhaustion.

The next it caught strangely in his chest.

His eyes lost focus somewhere over your shoulder while every muscle in his body tightened beneath the blankets all at once.

Your stomach dropped instantly.

“Leon?”

Jack looked up from the monitor station at the exact same moment Leon’s entire body stiffened violently against the mattress.

“He’s seizing!”

Everything exploded into motion.

The seizure hit hard and fast, violent enough that the entire trauma bed rattled beneath him. His back arched sharply while his arms convulsed uncontrollably, knocking equipment sideways as monitors erupted into sharp screaming alarms throughout the room.

“Clock started,” Perlah called immediately.

“Two minutes on the seizure pads,” Whitaker added while grabbing suction.

“Turn him,” you ordered.

You and Javadi moved together automatically, carefully rolling Leon onto his side while his body continued jerking violently beneath your hands. Blood appeared at the corner of his mouth where he’d bitten through his tongue while every breath came in horrible choking gasps between convulsions.

“Airway’s clear,” Javadi said quickly, though her voice still sounded tight with adrenaline.

Across the room Jack was already pulling medication from the crash cart while Dana called CT from the doorway ahead of transport.

Then finally, slowly, the seizure broke.

Leon’s body slumped heavily back against the mattress drenched in sweat while ragged breaths tore unevenly from his chest. The room fell briefly into that strange silence that always followed emergencies, where everybody still moved quickly even though the worst part had passed.

For now.

“Let’s get a CT stat,” Jack said immediately.

You nodded once, trying to ignore the tremor beginning in your hands now that the adrenaline spike was crashing again.

“I’ll stay with him until transport.”

Jack hesitated.

Only briefly, but long enough for you to notice.

Something unreadable crossed his expression while his eyes flicked from Leon back toward you.

Concern maybe.

The same quiet tension he always carried after particularly violent trauma cases.

“You sure?” he asked softly.

You frowned slightly. “Yeah.”

Whitaker glanced briefly between both of you like he noticed something too, but before he could say anything Dana appeared in the doorway again.

“Trauma Three needs help now.”

Jack’s jaw tightened.

His fingers brushed briefly against your wrist before he stepped away toward the hallway, disappearing almost immediately back into the noise and chaos outside the trauma bay.

The room quieted afterward.

Machines beeped steadily while rain tapped faintly against distant ER windows somewhere down the hall. Whitaker and Javadi had already been pulled into another room, leaving you alone beside Leon while he lay motionless in exhausted postictal confusion.

You dimmed the overhead light slightly before adjusting the blanket higher over his chest.

“Hey,” you said gently when you noticed him beginning to stir. “You’re okay. You had a seizure.”

No response.

His eyes stayed fixed upward, unfocused and confused.

Postictal.

You had seen it hundreds of times before. Disorientation. Confusion. Agitation sometimes. Patients waking terrified because their brains had not fully caught up to reality yet.

Your shoulder ached dully now that exhaustion was settling deeper into your body again. You reached absentmindedly for the chart at the foot of the bed, mentally running through differentials and imaging priorities while waiting for CT to call back.

You missed the shift in him by less than a second.

One moment Leon lay motionless against the mattress, the next his eyes sharpened violently.

Not recognition.

Fear.

Pure terrified instinct.

Your stomach dropped.

“Leon—”

He surged upright before you could finish the sentence.

His hand closed around your throat with terrifying force, slamming you backward into the cabinet hard enough to knock the air violently from your lungs. Pain exploded across the back of your skull as your head cracked sharply against metal.

“Leon!”

The sound came out broken and strangled.

But he wasn’t seeing you.

That was the horrifying part.

His eyes looked completely wild now—unfocused, terrified, empty all at once. Pure neurological panic stripped entirely of recognition.

For one terrible second, training overrode fear.

“Leon,” you gasped desperately, grabbing his wrists instinctively instead of striking him. “Listen to me. You’re in the hospital. You’re safe.”

Nothing reached him.

His grip tightened harder around your throat.

Air stopped.

Panic slammed through you instantly now, sharp and animal and overwhelming in a way you almost never allowed yourself to feel. Your vision flickered violently while you clawed uselessly at his hands, trying desperately to drag in even one full breath.

You needed help.

Safe word.

Your mouth opened automatically.

“H—”

Nothing came out except a rasp.

Leon shoved you backward harder, your skull slamming against the cabinet again hard enough that white exploded across your vision.

The hospital safe word.

You just needed to say it.

“Hula—”

The sound collapsed into another strangled gasp as his fingers crushed tighter against your airway.

Your lungs burned.

Tears blurred your vision from pain and lack of oxygen while movement echoed faintly somewhere outside the trauma bay. People were still moving through the ER completely unaware of what was happening behind the curtain.

Your body was weakening fast.

You forced one shredded breath into your lungs and screamed:

“HULA HOOP!”

The entire department reacted instantly.

The trauma bay doors burst open hard enough to slam against the wall while voices shouted over each other.

Hands grabbed Leon, trying to drag him backward while he fought wildly in blind confusion and terror.

But before anyone could fully pull him away, he shoved you violently across the room.

Your shoulder struck the edge of the cabinetry with a horrible crack before the rest of your body collapsed hard onto the tile floor.

Pain tore through your arm instantly, sharp and wrong enough it barely felt real.

You couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

The room blurred violently while alarms screamed overhead and people shouted your name somewhere nearby.

And through all of it, through the pain and chaos splitting apart around you, your brain found one thing instinctively.

Jack.

You thought about the way he always found you in crowded trauma bays without even trying. The way his hoodie still smelled faintly like coffee and antiseptic around your shoulders. The quiet brush of his hand against your back only minutes earlier.

You wondered irrationally if he was going to blame himself for leaving the room.

That thought hurt almost as badly as the pain itself.

Your eyes slipped closed just as the world dissolved completely into noise.

Jack was halfway through finishing a chart when he realized he had not seen you in several minutes.

He looked up automatically, scanning the department for you out of habit more than anything else. Usually he could spot you immediately no matter how crowded the ER became. You moved quickly when you worked, sharp and focused and impossible to miss once he knew what to look for.

But you were nowhere.

“Hey, Javadi,” he called while signing off medication orders. “Have you seen Dr. Y/L/N?”

Javadi looked up so quickly, like she was a deer caught in headlights. “Uh… no,” she answered quickly. Too quickly. “I haven’t seen her since I left Leon. Sorry.”

Then she disappeared almost immediately toward another patient before he could ask anything else.

He pushed himself upright from the workstation, the familiar ache radiating faintly through his prosthetic. Long shifts always made it worse. The socket rubbed raw after enough hours on his feet, especially during busy trauma nights when he barely sat down.

Normally he ignored it.

Right now he barely felt it at all.

“Dana,” he called, already moving toward the nurses’ station. “Have you seen Y/N?”

Dana barely looked up from the chart she was reviewing. “Pretty sure she’s still with Leon. Why?”

Jack turned the iPad slightly toward her. “They haven’t gone to CT.”

That got her attention.

Her eyes flicked quickly toward the tracking board before settling back on him. “They’re probably backed up upstairs.”

“Maybe.”

But something still felt wrong.

Dana sighed softly. “Jack, she’s a big girl. She can handle herself.”

He knew that.

God, he knew that better than anybody.

You were one of the strongest people he had ever met. Smarter than most attendings twice your age. Calm during trauma activations that made residents freeze completely. You handled combative patients, pediatric codes, catastrophic MVCs, and grieving families with a steadiness that still amazed him after all these years.

But that feeling in his chest would not go away.

Dana pointed down the hallway. “I actually need you in Central Fourteen. Chest pain rule-out and Dr. Garcia wants another set of eyes before she calls cards.”

Jack exhaled through his nose, still staring at the tracking board.

“Right,” he muttered distractedly. “Yeah. Okay.”

He turned reluctantly toward the direction of Central Fourteen, adjusting his pace automatically as the prosthetic clicked softly against tile beneath his scrub pants. Fatigue had settled deep into the joint hours ago, making his gait slightly uneven now that the adrenaline from earlier trauma activations had worn off.

Then he heard it.

“HULA HOOP!”

Everything in his body stopped instantly.

The voice was barely recognizable.

Raw. Ragged. Strangled around obvious pain and panic in a way that made every hair on the back of his neck stand upright immediately. For one horrible second his brain refused to process it properly because it did not make sense. Not your voice. Not like that.

And then recognition hit him all at once.

The hospital safe word.

Trauma Two.

Jack’s heart dropped so violently it almost hurt.

No.

The thought hit him before anything else.

No no no.

Adrenaline detonated through his bloodstream hard enough to make him dizzy.

Then instinct took over completely.

“No,” he breathed aloud, already moving before the word fully left his mouth.

He pivoted so sharply pain shot violently through his prosthetic, the sudden turn grinding pressure through the socket hard enough that under normal circumstances it would have staggered him. But right now he barely felt it beneath the sheer overwhelming panic flooding his system.

Fear swallowed everything else whole.

Not the controlled fear he knew from trauma medicine. Not the clinical kind that sharpened your focus during codes and mass casualty calls.

This was different.

This was personal.

Jack shoved past a stretcher hard enough that the wheels screeched across tile while people all around him started reacting at the exact same time. Nurses turned toward Trauma Two instantly at the sound of the safe word. Dana’s head snapped upward from the nurses’ station. Santos was already running before half the department fully understood what was happening.

But Jack got there first.

The curtain outside Trauma Two jerked violently as shouting erupted from inside the room. Monitors screamed overhead loud enough to echo through the entire department while equipment crashed hard against the floor somewhere beyond the drapes.

“Get him off her!”

The words barely registered through the roaring in Jack’s ears.

His pulse was so loud now it drowned everything else out.

He hit the doorway hard enough that the curtain ripped halfway off the track as he shoved inside.

And then he saw you.

Lying on the floor.

Motionless.

For one horrifying second his brain simply stopped functioning.

You were crumpled unnaturally against the tile beside the cabinets, one arm twisted wrong beneath you while blood streaked across the side of your face from where your head had struck something hard enough to split skin open. Jack noticed everything all at once in the brutal hyperclarity trauma doctors developed after years in emergency medicine.

The bruising already forming around your throat.

The abnormal angle of your shoulder.

The way your chest barely moved.

And somehow that was the part that terrified him most.

You were not moving enough.

Leon was still screaming somewhere nearby while Ahmed and two nurses fought to restrain him against the opposite wall, his face wild with postictal confusion and terror. Somebody was yelling for sedation meds. The entire trauma bay had dissolved into complete chaos.

But Jack barely registered any of it.

Because you were on the floor.

And you were not getting up.

Something inside his chest seemed to cave inward violently.

“Oh, honey.”

Then he said your name, and the sound that came out barely resembled the steady, composed voice Jack used during traumas and codes and every impossible shift the hospital threw at him.

This was different.

There was no clinical calm left in him now.

Only fear.

Pure terrified fear.

He dropped beside you so fast pain tore sharply through his prosthetic as his knee hit tile, but he ignored it instantly. His hands shook hard enough he almost missed your carotid pulse the first time he checked.

Then finally.

There. Weak, but there.

Relief hit so hard it almost made him nauseous.

“Oh my God,” he whispered shakily, one bloodstained hand cradling the side of your face carefully while the other pressed against your neck searching for injuries. “Hey. Hey, stay with me. Come on.”

You did not respond.

Jack’s stomach turned violently.

Training forced itself back online in fragmented pieces despite the panic threatening to choke him alive. Airway. Breathing. Circulation. Neuro. He assessed automatically even while his brain screamed at him that this was you beneath his hands.

Not a patient.

You.

Blood pressure crash from trauma? Concussion? Cervical injury? Shoulder dislocation? Fracture? Internal bleed?

His eyes flicked instantly toward your throat again and rage flooded him so suddenly it nearly stole his breath.

Finger-shaped bruises were already darkening against your skin.

He hurt you.

The realization nearly made Jack physically sick.

“Jack,” Dana’s voice cut sharply through the chaos as she dropped beside him. “We need to move.”

But Jack could barely hear her.

Your eyelashes fluttered faintly for half a second before falling closed again and something inside him broke completely at the sight.

“No no no,” he whispered frantically, brushing damp hair away from your face with shaking fingers. “Stay awake. Baby, stay awake for me.”

His voice cracked hard on the last word.

That terrified him almost as much as the sight of you bleeding on the floor.

Because Jack Abbot did not lose composure.

Not during traumas, not during mass casualties, not while pronouncing deaths.

But right now panic was tearing straight through him so violently he could barely breathe around it.

And for the first time in years, he had absolutely no idea how to separate being a doctor from being the man who loved you.

“What the hell happened?”

Robby’s voice cut sharply through the chaos as he pushed into Trauma Two with Mohan directly behind him, but for half a second, both of them stopped cold.

The room looked catastrophic. Leon was still fighting violently against security near the far wall, his movements frantic and disorganized while Santos shouted for more sedation. Equipment littered the floor around the trauma bay, overturned trays and scattered supplies crunching beneath people’s shoes as alarms screamed overhead loudly enough to make the entire room feel claustrophobic.

And in the middle of all of it, you were lying motionless on the floor with Jack kneeling beside you.

Blood streaked down the side of your face and disappeared beneath the collar of his hoodie still hanging around your shoulders. Bruising had already started darkening visibly around your throat, ugly fingerprints blooming beneath the fluorescent trauma lights, while your left arm rested at an angle that made Mohan’s stomach immediately drop.

“Jesus Christ,” Mohan breathed.

“Security’s got the patient,” Dana snapped, already dropping beside you with Santos. “Probably postictal aggression after the seizure. He went after her.”

Robby moved instantly after that, years of trauma medicine overriding shock the second he reached your side. “Get her on a gurney now. C-spine precautions. Santos, I need vitals. Dana, page CT and tell them we’re coming immediately. Mohan, get me neuro and ortho on standby.”

Everybody moved except Jack.

He stayed frozen beside you on the tile floor, one hand still cradling the side of your face like he physically could not force himself to let go.

“Jack,” Robby said.

No response.

Jack was staring at you with an expression Robby had never seen on him before. Not panic exactly. Worse than panic. Helplessness, maybe, like his brain had short-circuited somewhere between doctor and boyfriend and now could not figure out how to function as either.

“Jack,” Robby repeated more firmly.

That finally seemed to pull him back enough to blink.

“She isn’t breathing right,” he said hoarsely, voice rough enough it barely sounded like him anymore. “He had her by the throat. Her head hit the cabinet, probably. Possible LOC. Shoulder’s definitely dislocated, maybe fractured too.”

The words came out clipped and automatic, pure trauma assessment forced through panic, but his hands were still shaking.

Dana and Santos carefully slid a backboard beneath you while Mohan cut away the remains of the hoodie around your shoulder to assess the injury better. The second the fabric moved, Jack saw the full extent of the bruising spreading across your throat, dark purple already beneath your skin.

“He squeezed hard enough to leave petechiae,” Santos muttered quietly while examining your neck. “Shit.”

Robby’s jaw tightened immediately. “We need airway monitoring. Neck trauma protocol.”

You stirred weakly then, letting out a broken sound somewhere between a gasp and a whimper as Dana stabilized your shoulder. Jack moved instantly at the sound.

“Hey,” he said, voice softening so fast it almost hurt to hear. “Hey, don’t move. You’re okay.”

Your eyes fluttered halfway open for barely a second before unfocusing again.

“She’s awake,” Jack breathed.

“For now,” Robby answered grimly while checking your pupils with a penlight. “Possible concussion. We’re not ruling anything out yet.”

Jack knew that tone. It was the same one they all used when things might be much worse than they looked initially.

Around them, the room was finally beginning to settle into controlled chaos instead of outright panic. Security had Leon restrained now while Santos pushed sedatives through an IV line with tight, controlled movements. Leon’s terrified shouting dissolved into confused, exhausted mumbling as the medication began taking effect.

“He didn’t know what he was doing,” Mohan said quietly, mostly to fill the horrible silence hanging over the room.

Jack did not answer. Rationally, he already knew that. Postictal aggression, neurological confusion, severe agitation after seizure activity. They had all seen it before. But none of it mattered right now, because every time Jack blinked, he saw your body hitting the floor again.

“On my count,” Santos said firmly while positioning herself near your head. “One, two, three.”

They lifted you carefully onto the gurney, and the second they moved your shoulder, a sharp cry tore from your throat despite your barely conscious state.

Jack physically flinched.

Robby looked at him immediately. “Jack, I need you with me here.”

But Jack still looked frozen. His prosthetic locked slightly as he stood too quickly, pain shooting sharply through the joint while exhaustion and adrenaline crashed violently together inside his body. Normally, he compensated automatically for it. Years of physical therapy had taught him exactly how to move through pain without thinking.

Right now, he barely noticed it. All he could see was you strapped to a trauma gurney instead of standing beside one, and somehow that felt profoundly wrong in a way his brain could not fully process yet.

Dana squeezed his arm briefly as she passed him. “She’s alive,” she said quietly, firmly enough that it sounded almost like an order. “So stay with us.”

Jack swallowed hard, then finally nodded once.

The second the gurney locked into place beside the trauma bed, the room shifted fully into trauma mode. Controlled chaos. Fast hands. Sharply clipped orders. Monitor alarms blending into the constant noise of the ER outside while everybody moved around you with the kind of practiced coordination that only came from years of emergency medicine.

“BP dropping,” Santos called from the monitor station. “Ninety-two over fifty-six. Heart rate one-forty. Pulse ox ninety-four.”

Robby swore quietly under his breath before stepping beside the gurney. “Dana, I need another large bore IV. CBC, CMP, coags, type and screen, lactate. Full trauma panel.”

Dana was already moving before he finished speaking.

Mohan carefully stabilized your cervical spine while Perlah adjusted the collar more securely around your neck. Blood stained the side of your face now, dark against pale skin beneath the fluorescent trauma lights, while bruising continued spreading visibly across your throat.

“She’s tachycardic from pain and adrenaline,” Mohan said quickly while palpating carefully along your ribs and clavicle. “Left shoulder deformity obvious. Could be anterior dislocation, maybe proximal humerus fracture too.”

“She hit hard,” Dana added grimly while cutting away the sleeve of your scrub top completely. “Look at the swelling already, poor baby.”

Jack forced himself closer finally, though every instinct in his body screamed at him to stop looking entirely.

Your shoulder looked wrong. Not subtly wrong, catastrophically wrong. The joint sat visibly displaced beneath skin already darkening with bruising while your arm rested protectively against your torso in unconscious guarding. Even barely responsive, your body was trying to protect the injury.

“Y/N?” Robby called firmly while shining the penlight into your eyes again. “Hey, stay with me.”

Your eyelids fluttered weakly, and your lips parted slightly before a small broken sound escaped you, more pain than words.

“There you go,” Dana said softly. “That’s good, hey sweetie.”

“She’s responsive,” Mohan confirmed. “Pupils reactive bilaterally.”

“Any obvious neuro deficits?”

“Hard to assess until she’s more alert.”

Jack swallowed hard. Normally those words would have sounded clinical. Routine. Hearing them about you made him feel sick.

Robby’s fingers moved carefully along your scalp before stopping near the back of your head. “She’s got a laceration here. Probably where she hit the cabinet.”

“How bad?” Jack asked immediately.

Robby looked up briefly. “Needs staples. I’m more concerned about intracranial bleed.”

Jack felt the room narrow sharply around him as his brain supplied every possibility instantly. Subdural. Epidural. Contusion. Diffuse axonal injury. Years of trauma medicine suddenly felt less like a skill and more like torture because now he knew exactly how bad this could become.

“BP’s still dropping,” Santos called sharply.

“Hang another liter.”

Dana connected fluids immediately while Mohan checked your abdomen carefully for rigidity and tenderness.

“She guarding?”

“Little bit.”

“Could just be pain response.”

“Or internal injury,” Robby answered grimly.

Jack closed his eyes briefly. Only twenty minutes ago, he had been teasing you for refusing to change out of wet scrubs. Twenty minutes ago, you had been standing beside him alive and exhausted and rolling your eyes at him. Now you were strapped to a trauma gurney while your coworkers discussed possible brain bleeds.

The trauma bay doors pushed open again.

“What do we have?”

Garcia entered already pulling gloves on, clearly expecting another routine consult before her eyes landed on the gurney. Then she froze.

“Is that...?”

Nobody answered immediately because suddenly saying it aloud made everything feel horrifyingly real.

Garcia moved closer automatically, surgical instincts taking over even while shock still flickered visibly across her face. Her eyes swept quickly across your injuries, taking in the bruising around your throat, the unstable shoulder, and the blood matted into your hair.

“Oh my God.”

Jack looked away sharply at the sound in her voice. He could handle panic, trauma, blood, failed resuscitations, and catastrophic injuries. But he could not handle hearing pity directed at you.

“What happened?” Garcia asked quietly.

“Postictal assault,” Robby answered while reviewing your vitals. “Patient seized after MVC. Became combative during recovery.”

Garcia’s jaw tightened immediately. Her eyes flicked briefly toward Jack, and somehow that made everything worse. Everybody in the hospital knew about the two of you. Not because either of you talked about it much, but because some things became obvious after enough years working together. The way Jack unconsciously searched for you in crowded rooms. The way your voice softened around him even during impossible shifts. The way both of you somehow always ended up side by side during difficult traumas without discussing it first.

And now everybody was watching him try not to fall apart while you lay bleeding in front of him.

“Y/N,” Garcia said gently while stepping closer to assess your airway. “Can you hear me?”

Your brow twitched faintly at the sound of your name.

“Good,” she murmured softly. “Stay with us.”

Jack finally moved closer again until he stood directly beside the gurney. For a second, he just stared at you. Really stared. At the bruises darkening beneath your jaw, at the trembling rise and fall of your breathing, at the blood drying against your temple.

Then very carefully, he reached down and took your hand.

Your fingers twitched weakly against his palm almost immediately.

Tiny movement. Huge relief.

“Okay,” Robby said firmly, forcing the room back into focus. “Let’s move. I want CT angio head and neck immediately. We’re ruling out intracranial bleed and carotid injury.”

Garcia nodded once beside him, already assessing your airway with practiced hands. “Neck swelling’s getting worse.”

Jack saw it too now that she said it aloud. The bruising around your throat had spread darker beneath the fluorescent lights while swelling gathered visibly beneath your jawline. Every breath you took sounded wrong now. Wet. Shallow. Strained enough to make every survival instinct in his body start screaming.

“Pulse ox is dipping,” Santos called sharply. “Ninety-one.”

“Jaw thrust,” Garcia ordered immediately.

Dana repositioned carefully at your head while Garcia leaned closer, studying the bruising around your airway with growing concern. “She may need to be intubated before CT if the swelling progresses.”

The word hit Jack like a physical blow. Intubated. His brain immediately supplied images he did not want. Ventilator settings. Sedation drips. ICU monitors. Neurological checks every hour.

“No,” he said automatically before he could stop himself.

Everybody looked at him.

Jack swallowed hard immediately, realizing too late he had said it aloud.

Robby’s expression softened slightly. “Jack.”

He hated the way Robby said his name right now. Carefully. Like he was one bad second away from falling apart completely.

“I know,” Jack muttered quickly, dragging a shaky hand down his face. “I know.”

But he didn’t. Not really. Because his brain kept splitting violently between two impossible realities. One side of him catalogued injuries automatically. Airway trauma after strangulation. Possible cervical instability. Hypoxia. Concussion. Internal bleeding. Shoulder fracture-dislocation. The other side could barely process the fact that you were lying here at all.

Your breathing suddenly hitched sharply.

Jack’s head snapped toward you instantly.

Your eyes fluttered weakly before opening. Confusion crossed your face immediately while you tried weakly to move, but pain flashed across your expression so fast it made Jack physically tense.

“Don’t,” he said immediately, stepping closer. “Baby, don’t move.”

Your gaze drifted slowly around the trauma bay like you were trying to understand where you were. The bright lights. The people surrounding you. The monitors beeping overhead. Then finally, your eyes landed on Jack.

Relief flickered there instantly. Small. Barely there. Enough to nearly destroy him.

“Hey,” he said softly, gripping your hand tighter without realizing it. “Hey, I’m right here.”

Your lips parted slightly, but nothing came out at first except a weak breath.

Jack leaned closer immediately. “What?”

Your brow pinched faintly in confusion.

“...Leon?”

The room went quiet for half a second.

Even now, barely conscious and injured and terrified, your first instinct was still the patient. Something inside Jack cracked painfully at that.

“He’s restrained,” Robby answered gently before Jack could. “You’re safe.”

Your eyes shifted again, slower this time.

“Hurts,” you whispered faintly.

Jack looked immediately toward your shoulder. “I know,” he said quietly, voice finally cracking despite how hard he tried to control it. “I know, sweetheart.”

Garcia’s eyes flicked sharply toward him at the sound. Jack almost never lost composure at work. Not like this.

You tried to swallow and immediately winced.

Garcia noticed too. “Throat pain?”

A tiny nod.

“Difficulty breathing?”

Another weak nod.

Garcia looked immediately toward Robby. “Airway’s worsening.”

Robby swore quietly under his breath. “We tube here or risk losing it in CT.”

The room shifted instantly again. More movement. More urgency. Dana reached for airway equipment while Santos prepared sedation meds with visibly tighter movements now. Mohan adjusted oxygen flow quickly while Garcia moved toward the head of the bed.

Jack felt suddenly frozen all over again.

Your eyes moved back toward him weakly, panic beginning to flicker beneath the pain now that you were awake enough to understand pieces of the conversation around you.

“Jack,” you whispered hoarsely.

His chest tightened violently. “I’m here.”

Your fingers curled weakly against his hand.

“Don’t...” Your breathing hitched painfully. “Don’t leave.”

That finally broke him.

Because you sounded scared. You, the person who stayed calm during pediatric arrests and mass casualty incidents and catastrophic traumas that made residents physically sick afterward.

Jack leaned down immediately, pressing his forehead briefly against yours despite the blood and chaos surrounding both of you. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered shakily. “Okay? I’m right here.”

Then your heart rate spiked sharply.

“One-fifty,” Santos warned.

Your oxygen dipped again.

“Eighty-eight.”

Garcia looked up instantly. “That’s it. We’re securing the airway.”

Panic flashed visibly across your face, and Jack felt your hand tighten weakly around his.

“Hey,” he said immediately, brushing damp hair carefully away from your forehead. “Look at me, sweetheart.”

Your unfocused eyes found his again.

“You’re okay,” he whispered, even though his own heart was pounding hard enough to make him nauseous. “Just keep breathing for me.”

Garcia stepped beside him carefully. “Jack,” she said quietly. “I need room.”

And suddenly he realized there was nothing else he could do. No medication to order. No procedure capable of fixing this himself. No trauma protocol separating him from the overwhelming terror flooding his chest.

All he could do was let go of your hand and watch other people try to save you, and somehow that felt worse than anything he had seen in his entire career.

And somehow that felt infinitely worse than any injury he had seen in his entire career.

The intubation blurred together afterward in fragments Jack knew would probably stay with him for the rest of his life.

Garcia’s voice turned sharp and clinical the second she stepped fully into procedure mode. “Etomidate ready?”

“Ready.”

“Succinylcholine?”

“Ready.”

“Pulse ox?”

“Eighty-seven and dropping.”

The room moved quickly around you after that. Packaging tore open, monitors screamed softly overhead, and Santos pushed medications through your IV with controlled precision while Dana stabilized your cervical spine at the head of the bed.

Jack stood rooted beside the wall, feeling completely fucking useless.

He had watched hundreds of intubations in his career. He had performed them himself during impossible traumas, with blood filling airways and families screaming outside the room. Usually, the procedure grounded him. Medicine always grounded him because medicine made sense. Algorithms. Protocols. Airway, breathing, circulation. Find the problem and fix it.

But this was you, and suddenly none of it felt clinical anymore.

Your eyes found his one last time before the sedatives fully took effect. Fear still flickered there beneath the exhaustion and pain, but so did trust. Complete trust. The kind that made his chest ache violently because you were still looking at him like he could somehow fix this.

Then your body relaxed beneath the medication.

Garcia moved immediately. “Going in.”

The room fell quieter for a second except for the ventilator alarms and the sound of Jack’s own pulse hammering violently in his ears. He watched Garcia guide the laryngoscope carefully while Robby monitored your vitals from beside the bed.

“Visualized.”

“Tube.”

“Advancing.”

Jack swallowed hard enough that it hurt.

You looked so small suddenly. That was the thought that kept repeating in his head while he stared at your motionless body beneath trauma lights that suddenly felt much too bright. You had always seemed larger than life somehow. Loud when you wanted to be. Brilliant. Sharp-edged. Impossible to intimidate. The kind of doctor residents followed instinctively because even during disasters, you carried yourself like you could handle anything thrown at you.

Now you were lying completely still while somebody else breathed for you.

“Tube’s in,” Garcia confirmed.

Relief swept through the room instantly, subtle but collective.

“End tidal color change confirmed.”

“Breath sounds bilateral.”

“Secure it.”

Dana taped the ET tube carefully into place while the ventilator connected with a soft mechanical hiss. Your chest finally began rising in slow, controlled breaths afterward, steady and artificial and horrifyingly impersonal.

Jack hated the sound immediately.

The ventilator transformed you from injured into critical in a way his brain could no longer avoid.

Robby was already moving again. “Okay, we transport now. I want CTA head and neck, cervical spine imaging, chest CT, trauma series. Somebody call ortho and tell them she’s likely got a fracture-dislocation.”

“She’s still hypotensive,” Santos warned while adjusting fluids.

“Pressure?”

“Ninety systolic.”

“Hang another liter.”

Everything continued moving around him after that, but Jack could barely process any of it fully anymore. The room had narrowed into snapshots burned violently into his memory. Blood staining the collar of your scrub top. Finger-shaped bruises spreading darker around your throat. Your hand slipping weakly from his when they rolled the gurney toward the doors.

He followed automatically beside the bed while they rushed you toward imaging. His prosthetic protested immediately beneath the sudden pace, sharp pain radiating through the socket with every uneven step, but he barely registered it now. His entire body had narrowed itself into one singular instinct.

Stay close. Do not lose sight of her.

Hallway lights blurred overhead while the gurney rattled violently across tile. Nurses moved aside instantly when they recognized who was lying on the stretcher, and somehow that silence hurt worse than panic would have.

People stopped talking when they saw you.

A respiratory therapist physically froze near the elevators before whispering, “Oh my God.”

Jack looked away immediately. He could not handle watching other people realize how bad this was.

Then suddenly, he was left standing alone in the hallway.

The silence hit him all at once.

He stared numbly at the closed doors for several long seconds before finally turning back toward Trauma Two because he genuinely did not know what else to do with himself.

By the time he returned, the room was mostly empty again. The chaos was over. Only the aftermath remained.

One overturned tray still sat abandoned near the wall where it had been kicked over during the struggle. Wrappers and syringes littered the floor beside shattered plastic packaging while a monitor continued beeping pointlessly beside an empty bed.

And blood.

Your blood was still everywhere.

Jack stopped walking.

For a second he just stood there staring at it. Tiny streaks across the tile floor. Smears against the cabinets where your head had hit. Dark fingerprints dried against the bedrail.

His stomach twisted so violently he thought he might actually throw up.

Because the only thing left of you in this room now was blood.

Not your laugh echoing across the nurses’ station during overnight shifts. Not your sarcasm when Santos annoyed you on purpose. Not the warmth of your body curled against his after impossible shifts when both of you were too exhausted to even speak properly anymore.

Just blood.

Jack looked down slowly at his own hands. There was still dried blood caught beneath his fingernails from where he had held your face trying to keep you conscious. More stained the sleeves of his scrub top in dark rust-colored smears that made his chest tighten painfully every time he looked at them.

You were intubated upstairs while trauma surgeons searched your brain for bleeding.

The thought cracked something open inside him.

If he had stayed. If he had trusted his instincts. If he had checked sooner.

“Jack.”

Dana’s voice came softly from the doorway behind him.

He did not turn around immediately. For a second, neither of them spoke while she took in the scene around him. Dana had worked in emergency medicine long enough to understand what trauma aftermath looked like, not just physically, but emotionally too.

Jack looked wrecked. Not outwardly hysterical. That almost would have been easier. Instead, he looked hollowed out from the inside.

“You should sit down,” she said gently.

“I’m fine.”

The answer came automatically, immediate and empty.

Dana almost sighed because they both knew it was complete bullshit. She stepped further into the room slowly, careful with him now in the same way people approached trauma patients who had not realized how badly they were injured yet.

“You’re shaking.”

His hands were trembling badly now that the adrenaline had started wearing off, small uncontrollable tremors moving through his fingers no matter how tightly he clenched them into fists.

“I left her,” he said quietly.

Dana’s expression softened immediately. “Jack.”

“I left her alone with him.”

The guilt in his voice nearly hurt to hear.

Dana moved closer. “You could not have predicted postictal aggression escalating like that.”

“But I should’ve checked sooner.”

Jack laughed once under his breath, but there was absolutely no humor in it. Just panic and exhaustion and guilt twisting together so tightly he could barely breathe around it anymore.

“She sounded scared,” he whispered roughly. “Do you know how bad it has to be for her to sound scared?”

Dana’s chest tightened painfully because she did know. Everybody in that hospital knew how terrifyingly calm you usually were under pressure. You were the person comforting other people during disasters. The doctor residents looked for during bad traumas because your voice never shook.

But tonight it had.

Dana stepped directly in front of him then and reached up without hesitation, gripping the back of his neck firmly enough to ground him.

“Listen to me,” she said softly but seriously. “She is alive.”

Jack swallowed hard. “She squeezed my hand before CT.”

“Then hold onto that.”

His eyes burned immediately at the words.

For a second, he looked terrifyingly close to falling apart completely.

“She was looking at me like she thought she was dying.”

Dana’s face crumpled slightly at the crack in his voice because Jack Abbot almost never sounded fragile. Not after everything life had already put him through.

But this was different.

This was you.

“You know her,” Dana said quietly. “You know how hard she fights.”

Jack closed his eyes briefly because somehow that made this hurt even worse. He did know. He knew the exact stubborn determination living inside you, the way you worked through exhaustion and grief and pain because your body physically did not know how to stop caring about people.

And suddenly, the idea of losing you felt so catastrophic he genuinely could not imagine surviving it.

When you woke up, the first thing you felt was pain.

Not sharp at first. Not localized enough to understand. Just heavy.

A crushing ache spread through your entire body like every bone had shattered somewhere deep beneath your skin. Awareness dragged itself slowly upward through layers of medication and exhaustion while fluorescent hospital light glowed faintly red through your eyelids. For one blissfully empty second, your brain stayed blank enough that you did not remember anything at all.

Then your chest tightened violently around the ventilator tube lodged in your throat.

Panic hit instantly.

Your eyes snapped open as your body reacted on pure instinct, trying desperately to fight the foreign object forcing air into your lungs. The movement sent agony ripping through your throat and jaw so violently it nearly knocked you unconscious again. A horrible choking sound escaped around the tube while pain exploded across the side of your head hard enough to blur your vision immediately.

The monitors beside your bed erupted into sharp alarms.

Then suddenly Jack was there.

He moved so quickly the chair beside your ICU bed nearly tipped backward onto the floor. One second the room felt empty and terrifying and unfamiliar, and the next his hands were hovering carefully near your face like he wanted to touch you everywhere at once but was terrified of hurting you more.

“Hey, hey, don’t fight it,” he said immediately, voice low and urgent. “You’re okay. Breathe with it.”

You could see his mouth moving. Could see panic written all over his face.

But you could not hear him properly.

Everything sounded distorted beneath the ringing in your ears, voices muffled and warped together like you were trapped underwater. The ventilator hissed rhythmically beside you while your chest rose mechanically against your will, and the sensation was horrifying enough to send another wave of panic crashing violently through your body.

Jack kept talking anyway.

You recognized the cadence of his voice more than the words themselves. Calm. Steady. But underneath it there was something rawer now, something desperate he usually hid much better than this.

Your entire body hurt.

Your throat burned every time the ventilator pushed another breath into your lungs. Your jaw ached violently from the intubation while your left shoulder throbbed with deep nauseating pain that radiated all the way down your arm. Even breathing hurt despite the machine doing most of the work for you.

Then memory came back all at once.

The trauma bay. Leon seizing. Hands crushing around your throat. Your head slamming violently against the cabinet. The floor.

You started crying before you even realized it was happening.

Tears slipped silently sideways into your hair while panic clawed straight up your chest hard enough to blur your vision again. You could not stop shaking. Every instinct in your body still screamed danger even though logically you knew you were safe now.

Jack’s entire expression broke the second he realized you were crying.

“Oh, baby,” he whispered hoarsely.

At least you thought that was what he said.

He sat carefully on the edge of the chair beside your bed before reaching for your hand, avoiding IV lines and bruises with practiced gentleness. The second his fingers touched yours, you grabbed onto him desperately enough that pain shot violently through your injured shoulder again.

You did not care.

Jack was here.

And somehow that meant alive. Safe.

Your grip tightened harder around his hand while your breathing turned ragged around the tube again. Jack immediately leaned closer, his thumb brushing shakily across your knuckles while he tried to calm you before you exhausted yourself further.

“It’s okay,” he murmured softly. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

Only then did you really look at him.

And God.

He looked awful.

Dark bruising sat beneath his eyes like he had not slept once since this happened. His hair looked messy in a way that suggested he had spent hours dragging anxious hands through it, and there was something hollowed out in his expression now that made your chest tighten painfully.

You mouthed the question anyway despite the ventilator.

What happened to you?

Jack watched your lips carefully before understanding finally crossed his face. His throat worked once visibly while emotion flashed so openly across his expression it almost scared you more than the pain itself.

He still looked terrified.

Even now.

Instead of speaking, he carefully turned your hand over in his and began tracing slow letters against your palm with his thumb.

Patient attacked you.

The memory crashed back completely after that.

The pressure around your throat. Leon’s empty unfocused eyes. Your body hitting the wall. The terrifying realization that he genuinely did not recognize you anymore.

You jerked violently on instinct before you could stop yourself, panic surging through your bloodstream so fast your vision blurred instantly while the cardiac monitor erupted into another wave of alarms beside the bed.

Jack reacted immediately.

“Hey, hey, look at me.”

You could not fully hear the words, but you knew his voice. Knew the shape of it. The desperation underneath it.

Your breathing turned frantic around the ventilator while terror clawed violently through your chest again. You remembered thinking you were going to die. Not abstractly. Not distantly.

Really die.

And for one horrifying second, lying in this ICU bed unable to speak or breathe on your own, that feeling came rushing back all over again.

Jack kept one hand wrapped tightly around yours while the other hovered uncertainly near your face. He looked like he wanted to pull you against him and protect you from everything all at once but knew touching you too much would only hurt you further.

“You’re safe now,” he kept saying quietly. “He can’t hurt you. You’re safe.”

Safe.

Your eyes darted weakly around the ICU room instead. Machines. IV poles. Bandages. Your leg elevated and immobilized beneath blankets. Soft restraints loosely secured around your wrists so you would not accidentally pull the ventilator tube out while disoriented.

You felt trapped inside your own body.

The panic became unbearable.

Then your eyes landed on the PCA pump beside the bed.

Jack noticed immediately.

His entire face fell.

“Baby…”

You reached weakly toward the button anyway with trembling fingers.

Jack looked absolutely shattered watching you press it. Not angry. Not disappointed.

Heartbroken.

Because he understood immediately what you were doing.

You could not stop the fear. Could not stop the pain.

So you were choosing unconsciousness instead.

Medication flooded slowly through your bloodstream almost immediately afterward. Warmth spread outward in gradual waves, softening the sharp edges of panic first before the pain finally began loosening its grip around your body. The terror still lingered somewhere deep beneath everything else, but it no longer felt sharp enough to suffocate you alive.

Your grip weakened slightly around Jack’s hand as exhaustion dragged heavily at your eyelids again.

Jack stayed exactly where he was.

You could barely keep your eyes open anymore, but you still saw the way he looked at you while the medication slowly pulled you back under.

Completely devastated.

Like watching you choose sedation over consciousness hurt him almost as much as the attack itself.

Your fingers twitched weakly against his palm before your eyes finally slipped closed again.

The last thing you felt before unconsciousness dragged you under completely was Jack lifting your hand carefully toward his mouth and pressing one shaking kiss against your bruised knuckles.

The second time you woke up was somehow worse because this time you stayed conscious long enough to understand what had happened to you.

Pain existed everywhere now.

Not sharp anymore. Not even severe enough in one specific place to focus on. It had settled deeper than that, heavy and constant, wrapping itself around your entire body until even breathing felt exhausting. Every inhale pulled painfully against bruised ribs while your jaw throbbed in slow aching pulses that spread all the way into your skull. The medication dulled the edges enough to keep panic from swallowing you whole again, but not enough to make you forget.

Nothing let you forget for very long.

Garcia stood beside your ICU bed when your eyes finally opened again, flashlight moving carefully across your pupils while monitors hummed steadily around the room. The overhead lights had been dimmed sometime while you slept, leaving everything washed in pale blue-gray shadows that made the hospital feel strangely unreal.

“Hey,” Garcia said softly the second she noticed you were awake. “Welcome back.”

Your hearing still came and went in fractured bursts after the concussion. Some sounds arrived painfully sharp while others disappeared completely beneath the relentless ringing inside your ears. Voices felt warped and distant, like everybody speaking stood underwater somewhere far away from you.

You blinked slowly toward the doorway and spotted Santos hovering there awkwardly holding a bouquet of flowers that looked aggressively stolen from the hospital gift shop. Half the stems bent sideways beneath crinkled plastic wrap while one of the price tags still dangled visibly from the bouquet.

You stared at them for a second before a weak breath of laughter escaped you despite the pain immediately punishing the movement.

Santos looked so relieved at the sound she nearly seemed close to crying herself.

“You scared the absolute shit out of us,” she said quickly, like humor was the only thing keeping her from saying something genuinely emotional instead.

The ghost of a smile tugged weakly at your mouth.

Garcia stepped back after finishing the neuro assessment while Santos moved a little closer to the bed, still clutching the flowers awkwardly against her chest.

“Abbott threatened like six people,” she muttered after clearing her throat.

Your eyes shifted toward her slowly.

“He almost went through security trying to get back to Leon.”

Your stomach twisted instantly.

Leon.

For one horrible second you saw him again exactly as he looked before the attack happened. Pale and exhausted beneath ambulance lights while rain hammered against the windows around both of you. Laughing weakly through pain. Asking if you were always that calm. Looking at you like you were safe.

You swallowed hard against the sudden nausea crawling into your throat.

“What happened to him?” you asked quietly, each word dragging painfully through the ache in your fractured jaw.

Santos’ expression changed immediately. The sarcasm disappeared first. Then the humor.

“He’s okay,” she answered after a moment, voice softer now. “Physically, I mean.”

You closed your eyes briefly.

Santos hesitated before continuing more carefully. “He doesn’t remember anything after the seizure started. Robby thinks it’s the postictal state mixed with the head trauma.”

The room fell quiet after that.

Not awkward quiet.

Heavy quiet.

The kind that settled directly into your ribs and stayed there.

Because the worst part was that you believed her completely.

You knew exactly what postictal violence looked like. You understood the neurological confusion, the blind panic, the total loss of recognition that sometimes followed severe seizures. Rationally and medically, every part of your brain understood exactly what had happened inside Trauma Two.

But emotionally, it still hurt in ways you did not know how to untangle yet.

A strange grief wrapped itself around the fear sitting inside your chest because less than an hour before the attack, Leon had been sitting beside you in the back of an ambulance talking about his daughter and his wife and soccer games and stupid jokes while rain pounded against the windows. You remembered thinking he seemed kind, the sort of patient who apologized too much for being in pain.

You had liked him.

And then suddenly he became the person who nearly killed you.

Emergency medicine was cruel like that sometimes. One second somebody was human to you. The next they became trauma.

Santos stepped closer quietly before squeezing your foot gently through the blanket. “We’ll come back later, okay?”

You nodded weakly.

After they left, the ICU room felt unbearably quiet again. Machines hummed softly around you while rain tapped faintly against distant windows somewhere beyond the hallway. Pittsburgh looked gray outside the narrow ICU window, the city blurred beneath another storm rolling slowly across the skyline.

You drifted in and out for hours after that.

Sometimes nurses came in to check vitals and neuro responses. Sometimes transport arrived to wheel you toward imaging. Sometimes you only woke long enough to register pain before medication dragged you under again.

Then sometime deep into the night, consciousness returned slowly enough that you realized somebody was sitting beside your bed.

Jack.

At first you thought he was asleep.

His head rested bowed carefully against your hand where it lay on top of the blanket, broad shoulders slumped forward like exhaustion had physically crushed him downward into the chair. The dim ICU lighting softened the edges of him enough that for one brief second he looked strangely fragile.

Then you noticed he was shaking.

Your heart cracked instantly.

Jack was crying.

Quietly. Almost silently. But hard enough that his shoulders trembled every few seconds beneath the dim blue ICU lights.

The sight hurt worse than any fracture in your body.

You had seen Jack exhausted before. Angry. Burned out after impossible shifts and mass casualty nights and pediatric codes that left entire departments emotionally gutted afterward.

But you had never seen him like this.

Very slowly, ignoring the pain shooting through your ribs and shoulder, you lifted your fingers weakly toward his hair.

The movement alone was enough.

Jack lifted his head immediately.

His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed beneath exhaustion so deep it looked painful. There was stubble shadowing his jaw now like he had not even thought about himself since this happened, and the healing cut near his cheekbone stood out harshly beneath fluorescent light.

Destroyed.

That was the only word your exhausted brain could find for the way he looked.

Jack Abbott was always the steady one. The person everybody else leaned on during disasters because he never seemed to break no matter how catastrophic things became around him.

Until now.

“I should’ve stayed.”

The words came out rough enough they barely sounded like him at all. Raw. Torn open somewhere deep inside.

You frowned weakly despite the pain. “No.”

“I knew something was wrong.”

“You couldn’t know.”

“I did.”

Jack stood abruptly then, pacing once across the small ICU room before turning back toward you like he physically could not force himself to stay still anymore. His prosthetic clicked sharply against the tile beneath his scrub pants while one trembling hand dragged hard through his hair again.

“I left you alone in there.”

“Jack.”

His face crumpled so suddenly it stole what little breath your bruised ribs could manage.

“When they pulled him off you...” His voice broke completely for one horrible second before he forced himself to continue anyway. “You weren’t moving.”

Your own eyes filled instantly.

Jack pressed shaking fingers hard against his mouth, trying desperately to regain control of himself and failing anyway.

“There was so much blood,” he whispered finally.

The confession hollowed the entire room out around both of you.

You reached toward him carefully despite the pain.

Jack moved back to your bedside immediately this time, like he physically could not tolerate distance from you anymore, and leaned down slowly until his forehead rested carefully against yours.

For a long time neither of you spoke.

Machines hummed softly around the room while rain tapped gently against the windows again. Jack’s breathing still shook every few seconds no matter how hard he tried controlling it, and you realized with sudden aching clarity that he had been holding himself together by force ever since the attack happened.

Probably for everyone else.

For the department.

For you.

Until now.

Finally, through the ache in your jaw and throat, you whispered softly, “You saved me.”

Jack closed his eyes immediately like the words hurt almost as much as the memory itself.

For a long moment he did not say anything at all. His forehead stayed pressed carefully against yours while his breathing shook unevenly every few seconds, and you realized suddenly that he was trying very hard not to completely fall apart in front of you. The effort of it sat visibly in every tense line of his body, in the way his fingers curled tightly around yours like letting go might physically destroy him, in the way his shoulders remained rigid even now like some part of him still expected another disaster to happen the second he stopped bracing for it.

“You almost died.”

The words came out so quietly you nearly missed them beneath the hum of machines surrounding both of you.

Jack pulled back just enough to look at you again, and the expression on his face made something ache deep inside your chest because he looked terrified still.

Not panicked anymore. Not frantic.

Just deeply, genuinely terrified in a way you had never seen before.

“I couldn’t get to you fast enough,” he admitted roughly, eyes fixed on your face like he needed constant proof you were still here. “I heard the safe word and I ran, but by the time I got there...” His throat tightened visibly. “You were on the floor.”

You swallowed painfully.

Bits and pieces still came back in flashes more than complete memories. Leon’s hands around your throat. The cabinet slamming against the back of your skull. The overwhelming certainty that your body was beginning to give out beneath you.

Then Jack.

Your eyes drifted slowly across his face now, taking him in properly for the first time since waking up. The exhaustion. The fear. The sleepless hollowing beneath his eyes. He looked like somebody who had been surviving on adrenaline alone for far too long.

“You did get to me,” you whispered carefully.

Jack laughed once under his breath, but the sound cracked painfully in the middle. “Barely.”

“That’s not true.”

His jaw tightened immediately.

You knew that look. The same one he got after bad outcomes. After losses he carried around long after everybody else moved on. Jack had always been harder on himself than anyone else could ever be, especially when the people he loved were involved.

And God, he loved deeply.

Even when he pretended not to.

You shifted your hand weakly against his, ignoring the ache radiating through your shoulder and ribs.

“Jack.”

His eyes lifted back to yours instantly.

“I’m here.”

Something inside him seemed to break completely at those words.

Jack lowered his head again, pressing one trembling kiss carefully against your bruised knuckles before holding your hand against his chest. His heartbeat pounded hard and uneven beneath your fingers, fast enough that you could still feel the leftover adrenaline vibrating through him.

For a while neither of you spoke again.

The ICU remained dim and quiet around you while rain continued tapping softly against the windows outside. Nurses’ footsteps echoed faintly somewhere down the hallway, distant enough that it almost felt like the rest of the world existed somewhere very far away from this room.

Your eyelids had started growing heavy again by the time Jack finally spoke.

“You scared me,” he admitted quietly.

The confession sounded small somehow. Honest in a way that made your chest ache more than the injuries did.

You looked at him for a second before squeezing his hand as tightly as your exhausted body would allow.

“I know,” you whispered.

Jack nodded once, eyes never leaving your face.

Then very carefully, like he was handling something impossibly fragile, he leaned closer and pressed a kiss against your forehead while exhaustion slowly began pulling you back under again.

This time, when sleep finally took you, Jack’s hand never left yours.

taglist : @kittykaylat1987

[silverapex]

Babe, I need more episodes of *Behind the Visor*😿

Behind the Guard

🐺 main masterlist | Behind the Visor

Toto Wolff x fem!reader driver (platonic)

Summary: A celebratory dinner at the Wolffs’ forces you to confront the impossible feelings you hide behind your visor, while both Susie and Toto see more of your cracks than you can bear.

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, emotional vulnerability, loneliness, inner conflict, subtle tension with a married man, Toto being caring in the worst possible way.

Word count: 2.5k

You bring wine.

It feels ridiculous, standing outside Toto and Susie Wolff’s apartment with a carefully chosen bottle clutched in both hands like a shield, but you need something to do with your fingers. Something to hold onto. Something that isn’t your own heart, which has been making poor strategic decisions all evening.

Your first podium.

That is what tonight is supposed to be about. You should be happy. Proud. Glowing with it.

Instead, you stare at the door and remind yourself how to breathe.

When Susie opens it, her face lights up. “There she is,” she says warmly, pulling you into a hug before you can even offer the bottle. “Our podium girl.”

Your throat tightens at the affection in her voice.

Podium girl.

It should make you laugh. It should make you feel loved. It makes you want to cry, which is inconvenient and honestly quite rude of your emotions.

“Hi,” you manage, hugging her back. “I brought wine.”

“You didn’t need to bring anything.”

“I wanted to.”

That part is true. You wanted to do this properly. To be gracious. Normal. Adult. A person who can attend dinner at her boss’s home without wanting to press both hands against her chest and physically hold herself together.

Then you look past Susie.

Toto stands in the hallway, tall and immaculate, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a glass of champagne. His shirt sleeves are rolled up. Of course they are. Because apparently the universe has decided your emotional stability is not important tonight.

His smile is small at first. Then his eyes meet yours. It softens.

“Congratulations,” he says, voice low, warm, unmistakably proud. “Again.”

Again.

Because he already said it after the race. In the garage. In front of everyone. Then quietly, when no one was listening. Then again in the message he sent you later that night.

Still, hearing it here, in his home, with Susie beside him, hurts in a new way.

“Thank you,” you say, and your voice behaves. Barely. “Again.”

His mouth twitches.

Susie takes the wine from you and loops her arm through yours.

“Come in before he starts giving you a debrief at the door.”

“I would never,” Toto says.

You glance at him. He raises one eyebrow. You both know he absolutely would.

The apartment is warm, golden, filled with the smell of herbs, roasted vegetables, wine, and something rich simmering in the kitchen. It feels lived in. Loved in. There are flowers on the table, a toy car abandoned near the sofa, photographs on shelves. Susie laughing. Jack grinning. Toto with his arm around them both, looking less like a team principal and more like a man who knows exactly where he belongs.

You look away quickly.

There it is. The thing you came here to survive. Their life. Not the public version. Not the paddock version. Not the perfect polished image from interviews and charity events.

The real one. The one with candlelight, half-finished drawings on the sideboard, Susie telling Toto to stop correcting the playlist, and Toto pretending he wasn’t absolutely about to do exactly that.

“You have terrible music taste,” he tells her, reaching for his phone.

Susie swats his hand. “You have terrible control issues.”

You choke on a laugh. Toto looks at you.

“Careful,” he says. “You are still under contract.”

“Ah,” you say, settling into your chair. “So honest feedback is prohibited.”

“Encouraged,” he corrects, sitting opposite you. “When accurate.”

Susie pours your wine with a smile. “He means when it agrees with him.”

“That is not what I mean.”

“It is exactly what you mean.”

You laugh again, and for a moment, it almost works.

For a moment, you are just there. A young driver celebrating her first podium with people who care about her. A dinner. A glass of wine. Warm light. Easy conversation.

Then Susie reaches across the table and rests her hand over Toto’s. It is such a small gesture. Casual. Natural. Thoughtless. A wife touching her husband because she can.

Toto turns his hand beneath hers and links their fingers without even looking down.

Your smile stays in place. Your chest caves in.

You take a sip of wine to hide it, though the taste turns sharp on your tongue. You nod as Susie tells you about Jack’s latest obsession with drawing cars that have “extra rockets because Formula One is too slow.” You laugh when Toto says this is technically illegal under the regulations.

“Only technically?” you ask.

His eyes flick to yours. “Depends how good the rockets are.”

Susie rolls her eyes. “Please don’t encourage our son.”

“He has vision,” Toto says seriously.

“He is eight.”

“Still.”

You smile into your glass. God, you hate how much you love this.

You hate how easily you fit into the rhythm, how quickly they make space for you, how kindly Susie looks at you, how proudly Toto watches you when you talk about the race.

That is the worst part. He is proud. Not distant. Not cold. Not careless. Proud.

And you are greedy enough to want more.

“You must be so proud of yourself,” Susie says after dinner, when dessert arrives in neat little bowls and you are already emotionally hanging on by one suspiciously thin thread. “First podium in your rookie season. That’s huge.”

You nod. Smile. Do the thing.

“I am,” you say.

Toto’s gaze lifts to you. You feel it immediately. Heavy. Searching. Too focused.

You keep your eyes on Susie.

“You should be,” she continues. “You drove beautifully.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers tighten around your spoon. “It still feels strange. Like it happened to someone else.”

“That’s normal,” Toto says.

You look at him despite yourself. His expression is calm, but his eyes are not. They move over your face with that precise, awful attention of his. The one that always finds the bruise.

“You’ve had a lot of noise around you,” he adds. “Pressure. Expectations. Criticism. Sometimes the good things take longer to feel real.”

Your throat tightens. Because he knows. Of course he knows. He knows the interviews where they ask if you’re too young. Too emotional. Too inconsistent. Too female, though they never say that part directly because apparently cowards enjoy synonyms.

He knows how hard you work. He knows how much it costs you. He knows everything except the one thing that would ruin you if he did.

“Maybe,” you say softly.

Susie watches you from across the table. Her smile remains gentle, but something in her eyes shifts.

You look down quickly. Brilliant. Perfect. Fantastic. Now his wife is noticing you falling apart over dessert.

Honestly, your race strategy has been better.

After dinner, you escape to the balcony. You tell them you need air. It is technically true. You need air, distance, a new personality, and possibly a transfer to a team where the principal is ninety-seven years old and emotionally unavailable in a less devastating way.

The city stretches beneath you in glittering lines. The night is cool against your flushed skin. You lean against the railing and close your eyes.

Inside, you can hear Susie laughing. Then Toto’s voice follows, lower, softer.

Home. That is what he sounds like with her.

You press your lips together.

The sliding door opens. You don’t turn. You know it’s him.

“Too much?” he asks.

You let out a small laugh. “The food? No. I’m just pretending I didn’t eat enough dessert for two drivers and one reserve.”

He steps beside you, hands in his pockets, shoulder close enough that you feel the warmth of him.

“Good,” he says. “You need it. You barely ate last weekend.”

You glance at him. “Do you monitor everyone’s food intake?”

“No.”

“So I’m special?”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

His eyes meet yours. Something passes between you. Too fast. Too sharp.

Then he looks out over the city.

“You are my driver,” he says.

There it is. The boundary. Clean. Firm. Necessary. It still hits like a wall at full speed.

You nod, forcing a smile. “Right.”

Silence settles between you. It should feel awkward. It doesn’t. It feels worse than awkward. It feels intimate.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” he says.

“I’ve been charming.”

“You have been performing charming.”

You huff. “That sounds like feedback.”

“It is.”

“Should I take notes?”

His mouth curves, but only for a second.

Then his voice softens. “Are you happy?”

The question lands directly where you have no armor.

You look at him, and for one reckless second, you want to tell the truth.

No. No, you are not happy. You are twenty-something years old with a Mercedes seat, a podium trophy, your name in headlines, and you have never felt lonelier in your life.

You are standing beside the man you love while his wife clears plates inside.

You want things you have no right to want. You want his hand on your back. His smile across the kitchen. His voice saying your name without caution. His life bending enough to make room for you.

You want the impossible, and it is eating you alive.

“Yes,” you say.

Toto turns his head. His eyes narrow slightly.

You add, “Of course.”

Bad move. Too much. Too quick. He sees it. He always sees it.

“Are you sure?” he asks, quieter now.

Your fingers curl around the railing. “Yes.”

He doesn’t answer. He just looks at you.

And there, under the balcony lights, with the city below and his home behind you, the mask slips. Only for a second. Your eyes burn. Your smile trembles. You look away before it becomes something he can name.

But he has already seen enough.

“Toto,” you say, trying to sound amused, “I just got my first podium. You’re allowed to believe I’m fine for one evening.”

“I would,” he says. “If you were.”

The gentleness in his voice almost breaks you.

Your breath catches. His hand moves slightly at his side, like he wants to reach for you. He doesn’t.

Thank God. You would not survive it.

The sliding door opens behind you.

“Dessert round two,” Susie announces, holding a small plate with a bright smile. “Because I refuse to let a racing driver leave my home underfed.”

You turn too quickly.

“Perfect timing,” you say, and it comes out far too sincere.

Susie’s gaze moves from you to Toto. Then back to you.

Her smile softens. Oh. She knows something. Maybe not everything. But enough.

The rest of the evening is easier because you make it easier. You laugh louder. You tease Toto about being a control freak. You listen to Susie talk about Jack. You accept leftovers because Susie insists with the kind of authority even Toto would be wise not to challenge.

When it is finally time to leave, you feel both relieved and hollow.

Susie hugs you at the door. “We’re proud of you,” she whispers.

The words are warm. They hurt anyway.

“Thank you,” you whisper back.

She squeezes you once before stepping away.

Toto walks you to the door. For a moment, Susie disappears into the kitchen with the plates, and suddenly the hallway feels too small.

You grip the bag of leftovers. A brave warrior, armed with lasagna.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say quickly. “It was lovely.”

His eyes stay on yours.

“You don’t always have to pretend.”

Your throat closes. There it is. The thing you fear most. Not being loved by him. Being seen by him.

“I’m not pretending,” you say.

It sounds thin even to you.

Toto’s jaw tightens. His gaze drops briefly to your hand, clenched white around the bag strap, then returns to your face.

“You can talk to me,” he says.

You almost laugh. You almost cry. You almost say, That’s the problem.

Instead, you force a smile. “I know.”

Susie calls his name from the kitchen.

The spell breaks.

You step back immediately. “Goodnight, Toto.”

His eyes linger. “Goodnight.”

You leave before your heart can do something stupid, like crawl out of your chest and embarrass the entire Mercedes brand.

The door clicks shut behind you. The hallway is quiet. Too quiet.

By the time you reach your apartment, the silence feels unbearable. No candles. No laughter. No warm kitchen light. No Susie calling Toto impossible. No Toto looking at you like he can see every fracture you are trying to hide.

Just your keys hitting the counter. Just the bag of leftovers placed carefully in the fridge because crying over food Susie packed for you feels too tragic even for tonight.

You don’t turn on the lights. You kick off your shoes, peel off your coat, and collapse onto your bed still dressed.

The tears come fast. Hot. Angry. Humiliating.

You press your face into the pillow and try to breathe through it, but everything hurts. Your ribs. Your throat. Your hands. The place inside you where hope keeps growing back no matter how many times reality cuts it down.

Why him?

Why him, when he is kind?

Why him, when he is married?

Why him, when he looks at Susie like she is the answer to every question he stopped asking years ago?

You clutch the pillow tighter. For one weak, awful second, you imagine it is him. His chest. His arms. His voice against your hair telling you to breathe, kleine Wölfin, breathe.

But it is only fabric. Only emptiness. Only you.

You whisper into the dark, voice breaking, “Stop.”

You don’t know who you are talking to. Your heart, maybe. It doesn’t listen. It never does.

When sleep finally drags you under, it does not feel peaceful. It feels like surrender. And his name is still the last thing in your head.

Toto.

*

After you leave, the apartment feels different. Quieter.

Toto remains by the door for too long, one hand resting against the frame, eyes fixed on the empty hallway as if something important has been left behind.

Susie returns from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel.

“You’re staring at the door,” she says.

He blinks, then straightens. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I was thinking.”

“Yes,” she says softly. “That’s what worries me.”

He turns to her, expression guarded.

Susie steps closer, studying him with the calm precision of a woman who has known him long enough to recognize every version of his silence.

“She’s lovely,” she says.

“She’s talented,” Toto replies immediately. “Strong. Disciplined. Very fast.”

“That’s not what I said.”

His mouth closes. Susie’s face softens.

“She looks at you like you’re the only safe place in the room.”

Toto exhales through his nose and looks away. “She’s young,” he says. “This sport is brutal. She needs support.”

“She needs support,” Susie agrees. “And she is in love with you.”

The words land heavily. Toto’s head turns sharply.

“Susie—”

“I’m not accusing you,” she says gently. “I know you. I know where your loyalty lies.”

His jaw flexes.

“But you see it too,” she continues. “You saw it tonight.”

He says nothing. That is answer enough.

Susie touches his arm. “Be careful with her,” she says. “Kindness can hurt when someone wants love.”

Toto looks down at her hand on his sleeve.

For a moment, the great Toto Wolff has no strategy. No answer. No control.

Only silence.

[oscnoopy]

𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 - 𝐥𝐧𝟏

lando norris x reader₊⊹ smau

charles leclerc x reader (not endgame)

Your boyfriend Charles has been acting distant and you don't know why. When the cracks in your relationship become too much to bear, Lando is there to pick you back up.

note: absolutely no hate toward alex and charles, it's all fiction :) magui doesn't exist in this universe. vaguely set during the 2025 season but charles and alex announced their engagement a bit earlier to fit in the timeline better. please let me know what you guys think of this one! warnings : cheating, swearing, gaslighting fc: pdm.clara on ig

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

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user: omg so pretty user: leo be like 🤪 ⤷user: stop why is that so accurate 💀 user: charles propose already!! ⤷user: right?? dating like 5 years now and yn has said she wants to marry him in the past ⤷user: i can’t help but feel like he doesn’t see her as marriage material, he talks about their relationship like it’s not that serious for him ⤷user: if he’s not serious he needs to break up with her so she can find a man that’ll treat her right (me pick me🙋) alexandrasaintmleux: I could have watched Leo 💔 ⤷user: this girl can’t leave these two alone i swear ⤷user: lurking like a shark lmfao ⤷user: are you guys new here? alex is yn’s bestie 🤣

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user: why is alexandra like always with them? ⤷user: girl loves being a third wheel i guess ⤷user: She’s yn’s best friend, is it that weird if they invite her to races sometimes? I bet yn just doesn’t want to be in new cities alone while Charles is busy alexandrasaintmleux: Beautiful ❤️ user: charles once again not liking or commenting when we know this man’s most used app is ig 🙄🙄 ⤷user: making a big deal over nothing, the guy is busy user: she’s so so pretty i just know charles doesn’t deserve her !! ⤷user: no fr like girl i will treat you better GIVE ME A CHANCE ⤷lando: Get in line comment deleted by author ⤷user: LANDO I SAW THAT ⤷lando: No you didnt shut up comment deleted by author ⤷user: help who let him off his leash

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alexandrasaintmleux: 😎🏖️ user: omg charles liked for once wow ⤷user: prob bc she posted alex 😂😂 user: i swear he likes that dog more than he likes yn ⤷user: bro don’t say the quiet part out loud 😂 user: Alex is sooo pretty omg ⤷user: two pretty best friends user: lando in the likes again 👀👀 ⤷user: nothing wrong with liking a friend’s post dude get out of here with that charles_leclerc: My girls❤️ comment deleted by author charles_leclerc: My girl ❤️ ⤷user: was that a typo or the truth slipping free 🤨

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↳lando: No way leclerc left you all alone in miami? ↳yourusename: he’s grabbing drink with some of the guys from the garage idk ↳lando: You wanna come get dinner with me?  ↳lando: I’ll cure your boredom 😂 ↳yourusername: you payin? ↳lando: Yes ma’am 🫡

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↳yourusername: who are you with?? ↳alexandrasaintmleux: I met a guy at the hotel bar 🫣 ↳yourusername: omg be careful ↳alexandrasaintmleux: He’s sweet don’t worry <3

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↳yourusername: i was laughing at you, not your jokes ↳yourusername: loser ↳lando: Wow ↳lando: Cant believe i buy you a nice dinner and you treat me like this ↳yourusername: deal with it 🤷‍♀️

↳user: is that yn?? ↳user: i’ve literally never seen her smile like that HELLO? ↳user: lando what could you have possibly said to get her looking at you like that omg ↳user: why is yn out late with you and not her actual boyfriend?? weird.

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lando: Lets do something? yourusername: yes pls

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charles_leclerc: Glad she found something to do with her time. She was complaining about being bored 🙄 lando: Yeah i bet

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user: ok i need yn and p to become besties PLEASE comment liked by author user: aww seeing yn with lando’s friends makes me so happy 😭😭 comment liked by author user: so glad she has people to cheer her up and distract her <3 comment liked by author maxfewtrell: Why’d you have to say it like that 🤣 pietra.pilao: 🥂🥰 user: playing with balls LMAO  lando: What do you think about padel lessons for your birthday this year? ⤷yourusername: not even jannik sinner could teach me how to hold a racket properly babe ⤷user: babe??? did i miss the part where they got together? ⤷user: uhh this is news to all of us i think ⤷user: y’all don’t call your friends babe??

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yourusername: sooo happy i got to see this guy win his home race. sooo fucking proud of you @.lando

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user: we love a supportive gf ⤷user: *bff ⤷user: let me live in my delusion! lando: Glad you came ⤷yourusername: after you guilted me into it 🙄 ⤷lando: Gotta do what I gotta do 😏 ⤷user: #whatdatmean user: i need them to start dating already  lnfour: Looking good in the fluro 🔥

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yourusername: 🧡🧡🧡

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user: she said “i’m done with ferrari” 😂😂 user: red is so last year, we wear papaya now 💪 mclarenf1: That’s what we like to see 🧡 user: i know it’s just a color but this is definitely a fuck you to charles ⤷user: exactly what he deserves tbh! fuck that guy fr comment liked by lando  ⤷user: did anyone else just see lando’s messy ass like and then unlike this comment LOLL ⤷user: he’s the one that introduced yn and charles, i bet he’s pissed 😂😂

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lando: Little bitta the break

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user: love that lando actually posts yn, charles literally never posted her unless it was an ad user: lando you didn’t have to mog so hard bro lnfour: ain't nothing lil about these camera skills  user: max and ed in the back 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️ user: they spent summer break together 😭😭 it’s serious guys user: Yn just seems so much more free without Charles and Alex holding her back ⤷user: trueee and lando has been so smiley lately i’m glad they’re happy with each other 😭❤️

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charles_leclerc: Mr². & Mrs. Leclerc 💍❤️❤️❤️

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user: aw hell nah user: Congratulations! user: not this man proposing to alex after a few months but he was with yn for almost 5 years?? ⤷user: That just shows me yn isn’t the kind of girl you want to settle down with 🤷‍♂️ ⤷user: you sound stupid user: Alex really stole her man and her dog I’m kind of impressed user: i feel so bad for yn :( i hope she’s okay ⤷user: she’s with lando now, i’m sure she’s fine 😂

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↳user: unbothered queen ↳user: the song choice LOL ↳user: “I don't want him anyway, girl, take him” YES MA’AM

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yourusername: a story in three parts 😢🍦

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yourusername: in case it wasn’t clear this asshole made me drop my ice cream and then laughed at me while running away ⤷lando: Hey i bought you a new one ⤷yourusername: this offense is unforgivable user: happy fun lando is BACK thank the lord user: that picture of lando lmfao he’s so mischievous  ⤷yourusername: i like my man full of whimsy and mischief 🤭🧝 ⤷user: THE ELF  ⤷user: ok but she’s so right lando is very elfish ⤷user: i think its the ears 🤔

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↳yourusername: and who is that for? ↳lando: ME ↳yourusername: damn ok 😔

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yourusername: save a horse ride a…motorbike?

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user: so you’re the reason i can’t find the lando monster anywhere lando: Hmm not sure thats how the song goes 🤠 ⤷yourusername: is that so? maybe you can remind me  ⤷user: you know this is public right?? user: i love that yn wears his color 😭😭

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↳yourusername: bro why did you post this i look a MESS ↳lando: Baby you look beautiful ↳lando: My pretty girl ↳lando: Youre perfect ↳yourusername: 🫶🏻🥹

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↳lando: Thank you baby 🥰🥰 ↳lando: This one was for you ↳yourusername: i’m honored ❤️

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yourusername: thank you for reminding me what it feels like to be loved 🤍🤍

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lando: 🤍🤍

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･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

[sabrinajenre96]

Field Trips & Foot Chases

Pairing: OA Zidan x Wife!FBI!Reader

Word Count: ~6,000

Genre: Action, Romance, Domestic, Humor

Setting: FBI HQ & NYC Historical Museum

---

The elevator doors slid open with a familiar ding as Y/N Zidan stepped out onto the floor of the FBI New York office, her steps confident and brisk. It was barely 7:15 in the morning, and most of the city was still stirring awake, but inside these walls, the machine was already running. She clutched a file folder in one hand—yesterday’s case summary, neatly printed and signed—and her travel mug in the other, steam rising from the dark roast she desperately needed to survive the next twelve hours.

Dressed in slim black trousers and a camel-toned coat that still smelled faintly of OA’s cologne from where it had brushed against his earlier, Y/N’s look was a balance of business-formal and “mom-on-a-mission.” She didn’t plan to be here long. Just long enough to hand off the file to Isobel and print the necessary attachments. Then it was off to chaperone Talia and Harlow’s first-grade field trip to the New York Historical Museum.

Her twin daughters had been buzzing about it all week—especially Harlow, who’d told everyone in their household (including the dog) that she was going to “see real colonial shoes” and “eat a sandwich like George Washington.” Y/N smiled to herself at the thought.

She turned the corner into the bullpen, where the usual early birds were already around. Tiffany was poring over some digital forensics with a very large cup of coffee, while Scola looked like he was mid-rant about parking tickets to anyone who’d listen.

“Zidan!” Maggie Bell called from across the room. She stood, her coat half-off her shoulders, and crossed the floor with a grin. “What are you doing here? Thought you were playing hooky today.”

Y/N returned the smile and held up her folder like a trophy. “Just dropping off paperwork for Isobel and printing a few things. School trip starts at eight-thirty. I’m still on the clock for ‘Mom Duty.’”

“Right—the big museum day.” Maggie leaned on the edge of her desk. “Please, I need pictures. You know I live for updates on my goddaughters.”

“I’ll flood your phone with them,” Y/N promised with a laugh. “You’ll be sick of them by lunchtime.”

“Impossible.”

Just then, footsteps approached, and OA appeared from the direction of the elevator, hair still damp from the shower and shirt sleeves rolled to the elbows. He had the distinct look of a man who had tried to leave early and been waylaid by something critical—his tie hung loosely around his neck.

“Hey,” he said, smile softening the edge of his focused gaze when he saw her. “I thought you’d be at the school already.”

“I wanted to make sure the case was buttoned up,” Y/N said, handing over the rest of the folder to Isobel who had just joined them. “And someone has to keep the system running while the rest of you run off chasing bad guys.”

OA leaned down and kissed her quickly—chaste but warm. “You’re amazing. Have fun with the girls.”

“You know I will. Just don’t get tackled or shot while I’m gone.”

“I could say the same to you,” he teased, stepping back just as Isobel raised her voice.

“Team, let’s go—conference room, now,” Isobel called. She was already walking fast, the others grabbing tablets and folders in response.

Y/N glanced at the wave of motion like a tide rising behind her, then gave Maggie a wink. “And that’s my cue to leave.”

“Send me those pictures!”

“You’ll get a whole album,” she promised, waving goodbye to the team as they moved into their briefing.

---

The school courtyard was buzzing with six-year-olds and coffee-wielding parents when Y/N arrived, switching gears from “Agent” to “Mom” without missing a beat. She spotted Talia and Harlow immediately—Talia in a navy-blue peacoat and matching headband, Harlow in her trademark rainbow beanie and pink boots, a stark contrast of order and chaos that defined them perfectly.

“Mommy!” they cried in unison, bolting toward her. Y/N crouched down just in time to catch them both in her arms.

“Hey, my sweet girls,” she said, kissing each of their cheeks. “Are you ready to learn all about history and revolution and maybe meet a statue of Ben Franklin?”

“Only if he has the kite!” Harlow declared.

“I want to see the old-fashioned classroom!” Talia added.

Their teacher, Miss Reyes, smiled warmly as Y/N joined the parent volunteers. “Glad to have you with us today, Mrs. Zidan. The girls have been so excited.”

“Thanks for letting me come. I wouldn’t miss it.”

The bus ride was a whirlwind of snack-sharing, knock-knock jokes, and a surprisingly intense game of “I Spy.” Y/N sat with the girls, pointing out landmarks and helping explain the difference between colonial homes and “olden castles.”

By midmorning, they were inside the museum, walking through exhibits of Revolutionary War uniforms, artifacts, and models of early New York life. The twins held onto her hands tightly, wide-eyed and full of questions. Y/N took photos throughout, even getting a perfect candid of Talia peering into a replica hearth and Harlow dramatically posing with a tri-corner hat.

She sent a few to Maggie, who replied instantly:

Maggie: LOOK AT MY BABIES. That hat!! Why does Harlow look like she’s about to lead a rebellion?!

Y/N: Because she probably is.

The group finished the final stretch of the tour—crossing a grand marble hallway with columns and a huge exit foyer where the buses waited outside in the sun. The kids were energized, talking about muskets and old coins.

And that’s when Talia froze.

“Mommy… is that Daddy?”

Y/N’s head snapped up.

Outside the tall glass doors, two figures in dark suits were sprinting across the plaza, weaving between pedestrians. One of them was OA—her husband—his badge out, gun holstered, eyes locked on two suspects making a break for it.

Next to him? Maggie, determined as ever.

“Oh no,” Y/N whispered, eyes narrowing.

One suspect veered toward a side alley. OA followed without hesitation and tackled him hard to the ground, knee to his back, cuffs already in hand.

The second suspect bolted toward the museum steps.

Y/N’s protective instincts kicked in. “Miss Reyes, get the kids on the bus. Now.”

The teacher didn’t ask questions. Y/N was already moving.

She sprinted across the marble floor and out into the courtyard, intercepting the second suspect as he reached the sidewalk. Timing it just right, she shifted her weight, stuck her foot out, and caught him mid-stride.

He stumbled—hard—crashing to the pavement. Before he could recover, she was on him, knee pressing down, one hand on her spare cuffs clipped inside her purse.

“Federal agent,” she said calmly. “Stay down.”

Behind her, the tour bus erupted into cheers.

When OA came jogging up, dragging his suspect with him, he burst out laughing at the sight of his wife expertly cuffing the guy in front of a group of cheering first graders.

Maggie leaned over, catching her breath. “Okay, remind me never to underestimate you in ballet flats.”

“Noted,” Y/N said dryly.

They both looked toward the bus. Talia and Harlow were standing in the window, saluting with both hands, beaming.

Maggie nearly doubled over laughing. “You two have the coolest kids.”

“I’ll take that as a win.”

---

The suspects were booked within the hour. Y/N filed a witness statement while Maggie handled the rest. OA offered her a ride, but she waved him off.

“I’ve still got sandwiches to eat and juice boxes to open,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “We’ll meet you later.”

By the time the girls were home from school, OA pulled into the driveway with a soft smile and two bags of cookies from the café down the street. The twins ran into his arms, talking over each other.

“Daddy, we saw you run so fast!”

“You tackled a real bad guy!”

“And Mommy kicked one!”

They all laughed as they went inside, collapsing onto the couch in a tangle of limbs and warmth.

Over dinner, the girls retold the museum adventure five times, dramatically acting out the takedown. OA and Y/N exchanged loving, amused glances. Their lives were never normal, but they were perfect in their chaos.

Later, after bath time, the family curled up in the twins’ bedroom for storytime. OA read from a picture book while Y/N braided Talia’s hair.

“And then the agent said, ‘Not today, criminal!’ and kicked him right in the shin—”

“That’s what Mommy did!” Harlow squealed.

Eventually, the girls drifted off to sleep, their hands still tucked in their parents’. OA carried Harlow to her bed while Y/N kissed Talia’s forehead, brushing a curl from her eyes.

They met in the hallway outside, quiet finally descending.

“She’s right, you know,” OA whispered, arms slipping around Y/N’s waist. “You did look kind of cool out there.”

“I don’t need to impress a bunch of six-year-olds,” she teased, kissing his jaw. “Just you.”

“Well,” he said, leaning in, “consider me impressed.”

They smiled, wrapped in the comfort of the night, hearts full.

Together, they walked into their bedroom, knowing tomorrow would bring more cases, more chaos—but for tonight, they had peace.

And maybe, just maybe, their daughters would dream of saving the world—just like their parents.

---

The End.

[stefanmikaleson1864]

I’m Gonna Be

OA Zidan / Reader 

A/ Also please listen to this song while you read that part because it truly sets the mood. Also I don’t own the lyrics to the song used 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJ6wJqaE6o4 link to the song 

A/N: If you like my work please comment like and reblog it means a lot to see interactions on my work

Y/N’s POV 

“Are you sure you want me to come with you I mean this a big deal” You asked . 

Omar looked over at you and smiled at you. The two of you were currently enjoying the weekend off by doing nothing. 

OA didn’t say anything to you he just rolled over and threw his whole entire body on you. He looked down at you and kissed you which you happily returned the favor. 

“Mmmm your right I changed my mind I don’t want to be seen with you” OA said 

“See no problem because I don’t wanna ruin my cred by seeing with you either” You said laughing. 

“Baby come on I’m trying to be serious right now” OA said

“I thought you were being serious by saying you don’t want me to go” You said 

“Come on now” OA said with a more sternness in his voice. 

“Yes sir” You said leaning in and kissing him. 

He wasn’t falling for it though and quickly pulled away and you pouted at him. 

“Fineee I’ll go with you what do I even wear to something like that” You said. 

“Well it’s a military ball so I’m going to let you figure that out” OA said.

“So rude to me” You said playfully slapping his chest. 

“Ouch that hurt” OA said. 

He grabbed your hands and pinned them over your head and he leaned down and kissed you hard and deep. 

You kissed him back getting lost in the moment. Suddenly OA pulled away and got up off you leaving the bed. 

“Wait where are you going” You asked in a whining sad voice. 

“As much as I would love to stay I can’t I got some stuff I have to take care of” OA said 

“What the hell do you have to do” 

‘Thats my business so now if you will excuse me” OA said throwing his shirt on you

“Enjoy this it’s something for you to remember me while I’m gone” OA said 

He then turned his whole body around and flexed his muscles. 

You just rolled your eyes at him.

“So sweet and very considerate of you” You said. 

OA walked out the room and started taking a shower to get ready wherever he was going. You just turned your attention to the TV and put on your fave TV show. 

OA was done a few minutes later and he threw on a hoodie and some sweats. Men always take a minute to get dressed it’s annoying. 

“Bye baby I’ll call you when I’m on my way home” OA said walking over to you and pecking you on the lips. 

“Bye have fun with what ever your going to do” You said. 

OA left at that and you were every confused on what he was out there doing. I mean that was so random that he just up and left. 

You tried paying attention to the TV but your mind kept wandering back to that Military Ball.

 You knew it was coming up but for some reason you didn’t think OA would want to go. You guys had been dating for about 3 years now and he never went. 

He was invited every year but he always said it wasn’t his thing and he truly wasn’t lying about that. When he was awarded with a award for his bravery from the FBI he barely went to that. 

Maybe he was just feeling sentimental this time though you thought. He seemed like he really wanted to go so you wanted to be supportive. 

But now to a hard decision and that was what do you wear to a type of thing like that. 

You knew it was formal but like cocktail formal or ballgown formal. Also this thing was next weekend and this man did not give you any type of room to prepare. 

You pulled out your phone and decided to keep it simple and wear something more cocktail appropriate. 

You browed trying to find something you were in a rush because you couldn’t do it during the week because of work. 

You spent the rest of the day looking for something nice to wear.

  You got so wrapped in what you were doing you didn’t realize how much time had passed. OA was still gone which made you really wonder what he was doing. 

You got up off the bed and made your way to the kitchen to find a snack and stretch your legs

. Of course your days off always go by so fast. But the good news was it was quiet and you found the most beautiful dress to wear and it would be here just in time. 

After eating your snack you looked around the house and decided to clean it. I mean who else was going to do it. 

I mean OA seemed like he was a nice organized military man but that was the farthest thing from the truth.

 He had more stuff laying around then you do.  So much for laying around and doing nothing you thought. 

You turned on some music on the tv and really got the vibes going. You were bouncing all around the house and if you do say so it looked really nice in that house.  

The music was so loud and you were in such a good mood you didn’t even realize that OA had come home and he was looking at you and just laughing. 

“I like this show a lot why wasn’t i invited” OA said loud enough to get your attention. 

“Damn it you scared the shit out of me” Jumping pretty bad and clutching your chest. 

OA walked over and he grabbed some flowers. They were fresh and colorful and really pretty. 

“Here a piece offering and for me being ditching you and being gone all day” OA said.

“OMG thank you so much there so beautiful it just almost makes up for you giving me a heart attack” You said 

“What else can I do to make it up to you”  OA said looking down and smiling at you

“Order me some chinese food” You said 

“Done” OA said. 

You went and grabbed a vase for the flowers and put them away. You and OA made your way to the couch and he ordered you chinese like you wanted. 

The rest of the weekend went by super fast and the two of you didn’t leave the apartment at all and barely even left the couch. 

Monday came and you were both getting ready for work. Now don’t get me wrong you loved working for the FBI but damn why were they open on Mondays. 

After getting dressed and eating breakfast you made your way to work. On the way there you thought maybe Maggie could tell you where OA went on saturday. 

Not that you thought he was out there doing anything bad but you were just curious because this whole weekend he would not tell you. 

You arrived at the office after OA pouted the whole time for you driving. No matter how many times you took the keys from him he still would act upset. 

OA made you listen to Jazz music the whole time. He insisted that it was a fair trade off. You guys arrived at the office not too long after that. 

You both got out the car and headed up to work. You worked as an intelligence analyst which you loved your job. 

You went to the JOC and OA headed back to his desk to put his stuff away. You decided you needed some much caffeine and headed to the break room. 

Once in there you saw Maggie who had the same Idea as you. 

“Hey Mags good morning” You said using your “nice” voice. 

She looked over and smiled and instantly knew that you were going to ask her something.

“Hey morning Y/N how was your weekend” Maggie asked 

“Good so did you at all talk to your boyfriend this weekend or maybe even see him” You asked still using the same voice.

“Noo I didn’t actually why” Maggie said smiling. 

“Because he left basically all of saturday and didn’t say anything to me” You said. 

“Nope sorry I can’t help you” Maggie said 

“Fineeee” You said. 

Maggie just left and you all headed into the JOC for the morning briefing. Work was typical a usual some messed up psycho in the world was hurting someone else. 

You all ended up working late that night like you usually do. It was just the beginning of a long week. Everyday that week you all had long days. 

The only thing that got you going was that military ball you were supposed to go to. It sounded like a lot of fun.

 Though the closer it got the more weird OA was being. He kept going out late and just his mood seemed off. 

He just told you he was nervous seeing his old friends. So you just let it be his military past was always a touchy thing for him. 

Then came Friday the night before the Ball. Thank goodness you all left work on time because you had to go and pick up your dress. 

You asked OA to go with you but he said he had other plans and would meet you at home. If you didn’t know him you would have thought his man was cheating on you. 

You didn’t want to push him though because he seemed pretty invested in whatever he was doing. 

You were so excited to go and pick up your dress. It was from a small local owner and when you went and tried it on it fit you like a glove

. It was so pretty and so gorgeous you felt like a princess. 

The sales lady got you to buy some nice shoes and accessories with it. That matched the whole outfit nicely. 

After you paid for your stuff you caught a taxi and headed home. OA didn’t think about you driving with him to work when he abandoned you at work. 

When you finally got home he was already there. He was sitting on the couch bouncing his knee up and down and twisting his ring something he always did when he was nervous. 

“Hey babe your home” OA said shooting up like a rocket when he saw you. 

“Yeah i texted you that I was is everything okay” You asked. 

“I’m good you just startled me” OA said grabbing his phone and locking it. 

“Umm you want to see my dress for tomorrow” You asked 

“Nah let’s keep it a surprise” OA said smiling at you. 

“Okay” You said. 

You sat your stuff down on the table and walked over to where he was standing. You went in and gave him a hug and then he squeezed you tight and his muscles seemed to relax  when he wrapped them around you. 

You let go and leaned up and kissed him softly. He kissed you back taking his big hands and placing them on your face. 

When he pulled apart he placed his forehead on top of yours. He seemed a lot more calm now

“Hey baby is everything okay” You asked 

“I’m good sorry i’ve been acting weird i’m just worried about tomorrow that’s all” OA said. 

‘It’s okay i’ve just been worried about you” You said

“I know but i’m okay I promise I love you so much” OA said 

“I love you too how about we relax i’ll order some dinner and we can watch that new movie you been wanting to watch” you said 

‘Sounds amazing but let’s eat in bed i’m so tired” OA said 

“Hell yeah we will let’s go” You said. 

You both changed into your PJ’s and laid in the bed. You ordered some food and put on that movie and OA pulled you close to him. It really was a relaxing night. 

The next day came and OA was fast asleep and you just let him rest because he has been doing a lot. 

You decided to surprise him that morning and make his some breakfast in bed. 

You began pulling out the stuff and began cooking. Suddenly two big arms wrapped around you and it made you jump a little.

“Mm smells so good” OA said 

“I was supposed to surprise you with breakfast in bed” you said leaning back to look him in the eyes.

“I thought that was my job” OA asked 

“Don’t be sexist Omar” You yelled. 

“Sorry sorry I appreciate the gesture” he said laughing. 

“Now come on get out” You yelled. 

OA just laughed and headed out back to the bedroom. You finished up cooking make a whole buffet of your guys favorite food.

When you were done you put it all together on a nice try and walked into the bedroom. OA was laying there playing around on his phone. When he saw you he put his phone down and smiled at you. 

“Ta da” You yelled. 

“Thank you baby, it looks soo good” he said. 

You sat the tray down in front of him then crawled next to him on the other side of the bed. You grabbed your plate and you both started eating. 

“Mm this is so good baby” OA said in between bites.

“Mm thank you not to bad if I say so myself.” you said also shoveling food down.

The rest of the time you both ate in silence and when you guys were done neither one of you bothered to put the plates away. Just laid back into the bed.

“So are you leaving me today” You asked

“Nope I don’t have anything to do today” OA said. 

“Surprising because all week you been shady” You said 

“I was not being shady for leaving the house” OA said sarcastically 

“Sureee okay you won’t even tell me where you were going” You said back

“I have a life” OA said

“I am your life” you said

“Soo cocky” OA said laughing. 

You laughed back and then it fell quiet you both were tempted to go back to sleep. You never realized how tired you were until the weekend came. 

Instead you put on TV and moved the plates to the floor next to you. You then crawled over and put your head on OA’s chest and snuggled up right next to him.

He wrapped his arms around you and you both started watching tv. You were nervous about this Ball later but you just decided to focus on right now. 

You both just laid in bed all day not doing anything. And time just flew past so fast. You had to be there at 8 so in NYC time you had to leave at 7. 

It was around 5:30pm and you decided to start getting dressed. You did all your skin prep and even made OA do a face mask with you. Telling him he needed to prep his skin and make it pop. 

You had every type of mask on. From a hand , feet, hair and face one. OA decided to take a picture of you making fun of you. 

“See this is what I get for trying to make myself nice for you” You yelled.  Trying to kick the phone out of his hand . 

“Awe come on I’m just messing around” OA said laughing 

“Your being so rude” You said laughing. 

Then when all that prep was done you got in the shower. Then you got out and started fixing your hair and make up. And just like a typical man you had to make sure OA was getting ready. 

Finally after getting ready you put on your dress and accessories you got. OA was wearing his military uniform and you never seen him wear it before. 

He looked so good in it and it kind of made you see him a little differently. 

“Babe my eyes are up here” OA gasped. 

“Come on I’m just admiring the view.” You said smirking a little 

OA looked at you up and down his eyes going wide at the sight of you. 

“Oh what happened to my eyes are up here” You said laughing. 

OA walked over to you and grabbed you by the waist and pulled you in for a kiss. It was nice and deep which made you moan a little. 

“Mm come on we gotta go were already late” You said 

“ you just look so damn beautiful” OA said 

“You look really handsome i’ve never seen you in that before” You said 

“Thank you and I know but i’ve never had a reason to wear it before” OA said 

“Come on baby let’s go” OA said. 

You gathered up the rest of your stuff and then headed out. You got into OA’s car and sense it was his night you let him drive. 

It was a beautiful summer night out and in typical fashion there was a lot of traffic. The Ball was downtown but OA was headed uptown. 

“Why are you going this way” You asked. 

“Don’t question my driving I know a way that’s faster” OA said 

“MM sureee but this is why I drive you do weird” You said. 

“What ever” OA said. 

You just looked out the window after that. Even though you lived in NYC it was still beautiful to look out at the sights. 

After driving for a while OA stopped at a restaurant. It wasn’t just a restaurant, it was OA’s favorite Egyptian restaurant he went to. He grew up eating there and now it was a favorite of yours too.

You looked at him confused but he just walked over and opened up your door. 

He gave you his hand and helped you get out of the car. 

“Where are we going what are we doing” You asked

“Just trust me” OA said 

“What about your thing” You asked 

“Stop asking so many questions,” OA said. 

You two made your way to the restaurant and when he opened up the door it was empty but it was beautiful. There were flowers everywhere and there were lights and candles lit up. It was so gorgeous. 

“What the hell is this” You asked 

“3 years ago you asked me on a date here because you told me it was to sexist for the girl to wait for the guy to ask” OA said

“And you picked here because you said you knew how much it meant to me and you wanted it to be special that night and it was because we spent all night talking and laughing and they has to ask us to leave because they were closing” OA said

“And then we walked around because neither of us wanted the night to end and I never wanted to leave you and that’s when I knew I was in love with you” OA said

“ I never thought about having a family falling in love or getting married. I figured that it wasn’t meant for me but now when I’m with you that’s all I want to spend the rest of my life with you” OA said 

He pulled a box out of his pocket and got down on one knee

“Will you do me the honor of marrying me” OA asked 

“Umm are you sure” You asked.  Not sure why it just came out

“Yeah your right let me think about it” OA asked laughing. 

“Stop it no omg wait Yes of course Yes” You said. 

OA got up and put the ring on your hand. It looked so beautiful. 

“It belonged to my mom my dad gave it to her when he proposed ” OA said

“I can’t take this” You said

“Yes you can she wants you to have it” OA said

“It’s so beautiful and I love you so much” you said 

“I love you to” OA said leaning in and kissing you. 

Then he walked over and pulled out his phone and hooked it up to a speaker. 

A beautiful song started playing and he reached out his hand. 

“May I have this dance” OA asked 

“Of course” You said, grabbing his hand. 

The song was so beautiful 

And when I come home, yeah I know I’m gonna be

I’m gonna be the man who’s coming home to you

And when I’m dreaming, well I know I’m gonna dream

I’m gonna dream about the time when I’m with you

But I would walk 500 miles

And I would walk 500 more

Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles

To fall down at your door” 

The lyrics started playing in the background. It truly was a amazing song that set the mood so well. 

“So that Ball tonight and your uniform” You asked 

“I just wanted to surprise you and if I didn’t wear the uniform it would throw you off” OA said

“Are you sure your okay with missing it again” You asked 

“There is no where else I want to be” OA said

He leaned down and kissed the top of your head. When the song was over he walked you to a table and there was nothing but food laid out

“Let’s enjoy dinner” OA said pulling a chair out for you

You sat down and then OA. 

“This looks soo good” you said 

“All of your favorites” OA said 

“Is this what you were doing when you left last weekend” You asked 

“Yeah Maggie helped” OA said smiling 

“I knew she knew something” You yelled. 

“Yeah and you were all up in our business” OA said laughing 

“I’m sorry” You said laughing. 

You two ate the meal and it was soo good tonight. After the meal OA played more music and you both kept dancing. 

“I promised you a dance tonight” OA said 

“Much better than that Ball tonight” You said. 

“I agree so much better” OA said 

You all danced all night 

“I can’t believe I get to spend the rest of my life with you” You said 

“I can’t believe you said yes Best day of my life hands down” OA said

“Mine too this is way to much though” You said

“Nothing is to much for you my love” OA said 

“What did I do to deserve you” you said

“Well i guess you did win the jackpot” OA said laughing 

“I mean maybeeee you got more lucky with me though I’m the one dealing with you” You said laughing. 

The night went by so quick again. Just like that first night when the two of you had your first date.

 When you were both tired from dancing you helped cleaned up the place. OA had so many flowers and other stuff  to take home with you. 

You all loaded up the car and then OA helped you in and got in himself

“Who all helped with this and who knew” You asked 

“Maggie and the team all helped” OA said

“We have to thank them all” You said

“Don’t worry about that I may have a celebration dinner planned tomorrow so act surprised” OA said 

“And what If i had said no” You asked 

“ I mean look at me you weren’t going to pass this up” OA said

“Oh yeah look at that cute face” You said, reaching over and grabbing his face and squeezing it. 

“If you would have said no I would of had a sad dinner tomorrow drunk all my feelings away and then quit my job out of embarrassment” OA said 

“Well we’re just so blessed that it doesn’t have to happen” You said laughing. 

OA grabbed your hand and kissed it. He took off and drove home and you couldn’t believe you got to spend forever with your best friend. 

[lustinglilac]

Pressure

A/N: In which Nurse!Y/N finds herself in a compromising situation when the love of her life is lying on the stretcher.

Warnings: angst, near death experience, blood, fluff at the end, GSW= gunshot wound. 

“Code GSW, code GSW.” The voice over the intercom spoke as she rushed to the scene, not once did the idea run through her mind that it would be him in that stretcher.

Rounding the corner with three different types of gauze paddings, she halted to a stop as she saw Maggie’s familiar face pacing back and forth. If Maggie was here that meant— surely, it couldn’t be true. She refused to believe it.

Keep reading

[stefanmikaleson1864]

I’ll Leave a Light on for you

OA Zidan X Reader 

So this is going to be after the reader is trapped in the glass and OA is visiting her in the Hospital ! I Hope everyone enjoys this. 

A/N: If you like my work please comment like and reblog it means a lot to see interactions on my work

OA’s POV 

Looking down at Y/N she was laid out all across the ground. Her face was ghost white and her eyes were closed. 

She looked so peaceful like she was sleeping. But me on the other hand. I was shaking and my heart was racing and I was a mess. 

I could feel my heart beating out of my chest. Everything in my body was on fire but I didn’t care about me only her. 

At this point the only reason I haven’t passed out was because of my adrenaline. 

“Come on Y/N it’s going to be okay help is on the way. Keep fighting okay I know how strong you are okay” I said in a pleading voice. 

I held her hand and just squeezed it . The sirens were getting louder and closer and I just kept saying a prayer in my head. 

Finally after what seemed like hours but really wasn’t the paramedics came and they hurried up and whisked her away. 

When I saw them take her away my body finally caught up. I just remember going down and everything went black. 

I wasn’t sure how long I was down or what had happened. Because when I finally came to I hear beeping noises and nothing else really. I slowly opened up my eyes and was saw I was in a hospital room. 

I was alone in here not sure what was going on.

 I felt like shit. My body , hurt my head hurt. And I felt like someone had run me over with a damn bus. But if I’m being honest I didn’t care about any of that though. 

I just kept replaying that scene in my head over and over. Wondering if there was anything different that I could have done.

 I kept thinking it should have been me in there.  She didn’t deserve this. 

Seeing how scared she was. The panic in her voice and on her face. It’s burned in my brain. The ache and pain I felt in that moment. I never felt so powerless before. 

“Hey Y/N look at me it’s going to be okay your going to be fine. I love you okay I love you it’s going to be okay” I told her the worry in my voice wasn’t even hiding. 

She just looked at me with a face that was hard to read. I could see the tears fall down her face. All I could think about was why wasn’t it me. She didn’t deserve this happening to her. 

Working with sarin gas I knew how it deadly it was. And even if she did wake up what would her life be like after? 

I was only exposed for just a few moment and I haven’t feel this bad ever. 

I kept glancing up at the door. Hoping someone would come in. WIth some kind of news. 

But at the same time I didn’t want them to. Because if it was bad news I could at least sit here and have hope. Right now hope is the only thing I had. 

So many emotions were just crowding my head right now. I just kept thinking of all the things I should have said to her. So many missed opportunities to tell her I love her.  

To tell her that she was not only my best friend but the absolute love of my life.  I spent so much time overseas and then coming home and working undercover. I never felt like I fit in or belonged. 

Then when I meant her it felt like I was home. That for the first time someone saw me for me and I belonged somewhere. 

We always had late night talks where she actually listened. 

We would spend all of our free time out of work together. Going to dinner and watching movies. She would make me go to the mall with her and hold all of her bags. 

No matter how much time we spent together i never got tired of being with her. I had so many chances to tell her how i felt.

 I think I was just scared of loosing her. Scared she didn’t feel the same way. 

Scared that I would loose the important person in my life. 

I didn’t realize the tears were falling down my face until i saw the wet spots falling on my blanket that was on me. 

I quickly wiped them away. Hoping no one would saw. 

Then after a few minutes later I heard a small knock on the door. I could feel my heart stop beating. My chest clench up and the panic set in. 

I looked up and saw Jubal coming with a worried look all over his face. He slowly walked over to me and grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze. 

I looked up and gave him a sad smile. 

“Your going to be okay. Your going to be weak for a few days but it’s going to be okay.” Jubal said still holding on to my hand. 

“Y/N did you see her” I asked not caring about me. 

“Yeah she’s uh pretty bad she’s not awake yet but the doctor’s are saying she has a good chance. It’s Y/N were taking about. She’s a fighter” Jubal said. 

I squeezed his hand when he said and I think I just let the tears fall because i saw them hitting the blanket again. 

“I wanna see her” I said 

“OA look at me you need rest” Jubal said 

“I don’t care I’m good please” I begged. 

“Of course” Jubal said. 

 I was weak and Jubal helped me stand up and he showed me down to where Y/N was. 

Tiff and Scola with Isobel were all out front her room with a sad look in their eyes. 

I gave them a small smile and then headed in to see Y/N. She was laid on the bed with an oxygen tube up her nose. 

I walked over to her and grabbed her and squeezed it. 

“Hey Y/N It’s me OA i’m here can you hear me” I Asked 

“I’m not going anywhere I’m going to be here everyday until you wake up because right now you just need some rest” I said 

“I love you so much I should have told you I know this and I’m sorry I was just scared. Scared because I didn’t want to loose you. You ate the most important person in my life” I said 

Everyone came in a few moments after I talked to her. They all talked and shared stories about Y/N her family was surrounded by her. 

Keep reading

[imaginingyourfandom]

6. “What the hell happened?” & 9. “Who the hell did that to you?”

You turned the key in the lock slowly, hoping to ease the pain in your shoulder and ribs but unfortunately that was wishful thinking. It had been a freak accident and you had a few injuries that hurt, hurt everywhere.

You walked in, placing your bag by the door, taking off your coat, only to find your boyfriend sitting on the couch watching a game. You had certainly not expected him to be home so early.

“What are you doing home so early?” You asked him, brining him out of his thoughts to see you standing by the door.

He gasped, “What the hell happened? Who the hell did that to you?”

You walked over to him, grunting in pain as you sat down on the couch, “An accident as work. I’ve got a dislocated shoulder, bruised ribs and a concussion with cuts all over. I’m fine but it hurts like hell.”

Omar didn’t reply as he looked you over, “You should have called me. I should have been there for you. You shouldn’t have gone through this alone. I’m your boyfriend, I’m supposed to be there when you need me.”

“I’m fine, I promise. I just need a bath and dinner.” You sighed as you tried to stretch your sore muscles.

He pressed a kiss to your head, “I’ll run you a bath and make us some dinner. Do you need painkillers?”

You shook your head, “No, I’m fine for now. A nice bath and dinner sound great. Thank you.”

“You know I’d do anything for you. I should have been there with you.”

“You’re here now and I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.”

[fangirlings-things]

He looked so peaceful when sleeping. Free of all the worries of his job. Smiling, you crossed the room trying not to make a sound and took the FBI papers that were scattered all over the bed, as he probably had been reading them before falling asleep.

While placing the papers on the bedside table you stumbled on his shoes, causing a loud sound to fill the room that made you bit your lower lip as you mentally cursed yourself.

"Hi, babe" he said in a rusky voice, without even opening his eyes.

"Hey" you took off your own shoes and got on the bed, smiling as you leaned down and gave him a quick kiss. "Thanks for waiting up, by the way"

He smiled, looked at you for a moment and then turned his back at you, clearly still asleep. "No problem, babe"

You laughed, giving him a playful punch on the arm. You got up to change into some comfortable clothes and within seconds, you knew that he had already fallen asleep again.

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

gif is not mine

[procrastinatorimagines]

[hibiscuswrites]

O.A Zidan is all I can think about right now!so, please just soft/fluff OA and his gf pleeeease

I wrote this as if he was more lax with his beliefs as far as being muslin so take it all with a grain of salt  ❤️

You always wake up to a “Good morning beautiful” text 

When he’s not working he spends as much time with you as he can

He always greets you with tons of forehead kisses 

He calls you beautiful as soon as his eyes land on you

He loves making breakfast with you 

Sometimes he barely gets time during his days to get a warm, balanced meal 

Sometimes he isn’t able to get off in time to have dinner with you

So breakfast is kind of a big deal 

He either has you come over to his place or will go over to yours

He makes sure you both get your protein 

He likes to try new things and experiment, loving to watch when you’re eyes light up because you love it 

Or you frantically look for a napkin to spit it out into 

Either way, he loves trying new things with you 

He makes foods from his culture for you to try and he tries yours as well 

His job is so serious, he likes to be playful when he’s with you 

Pillow forts on the living room floor 

Movie marathons 

Popping popcorn together from scratch 

Tickle fights 

Respectful cuddles on the couch when you both get sleepy 

He’s always getting you little gifts here and there just because 

He also gets you just because flowers 

He slow dances with you randomly 

Even if there’s no music on 

Sometimes he just hums 

He can be very protective over you but not overbearingly so 

He looks out for you and wants to make sure that you’re always safe 

He takes you to the gym with him sometimes to practice self-defense 

He’s very big on taking you out on dates 

Ironically though, since he’s always in a suit, date nights are usually chill and casual

General taglist @a-dorky-book-keeper  @jigsawlover10  @titty-teetee @my-rosegold-soul  @felicity-x0 @vibranium-soul @ateliefloresdaprimavera @preciousbarakat @elcococruz @glimmerglittergirl @hatterripper31

[imaginingyourfandom]

SUMMARY: Going undercover and getting hurt in the process which had resulted in nightmares, using prompt 86. “Don’t be scared, I’m right here.”

When you had agreed to take the job, you thought it would be smooth sailing. They had made it sound so simple that even Omar made no argument as you geared up to go on the undercover job. You knew your cover story and who you were after but something had gone wrong along the way and you had almost payed with your life.

Omar and Maggie had managed to breach before it was too late but what you had seen, haunted you. You awoke with nightmares for weeks to come and despite seeing a therapist, you still woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night but your boyfriend had been great.

Once again you had woken up with a nightmare but Omar was right by your side to calm you down.

“Don’t be scared, I’m right here.” He whispered, not to overwhelm you too much.

You clung onto him, “I just wish it would stop. I hate this.”

“I know but you are also one of the strongest people I know. After everything you saw over the past couple of weeks, you still found the time to talk to the victims and help them through their own emotions. I know it may not seem like it now but you have done so much good.” Omar reassured you. 

You knew he was right but after the horrors you had seen, it was hard to get over it. So many people had gotten hurt and you always wondered why it took so long for law enforcement to get involved.

You sighed as you laid your head on his chest, “I know but it’s so hard. Why did we wait so long to interfere? Why did so many people have to die? Why do so many people have to live with this? I can’t sleep because there is so many questions that need to be answered.”

Omar shook his head, “You can’t keep driving yourself crazy with everything that happened. I know you’re worried about them but you’ve done everything you can. I am so proud of you for doing what you can for them and being there for them in a time of need but you also need to take care of yourself.”

“I hate it when you’re right sometimes.”

“No you don’t. You love me.”

[stefanmikaleson1864]

Because I Need You

Because I Need you 

OA X Reader 

Y/N’s Pov 

Keep reading

[penwieldingdreamer]

A Shot in the Dark ~ Prologue

Well, welcome to my latest obsession - FBI and OA Zidan. This is a crossover between FBI, FBI: Most Wanted & Blue Bloods. Let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged in any future chapters.

I do not own any of the characters of the FBI Franchise and Blue Bloods, they belong to their respective owners

Summary It's said, you'll always meet twice in life. But you never thought it be in a hostage situation with a gun pressed against your head.

Warnings: hostage situation, canon typical violence, coarse language, smut in later chapters

The human mind is really the scariest thing of all.

Life in general is scary, and yet you step out of your home each day and face it. You imagine how a situation might turn out if you just changed one thing in your day to day life. Sometimes it’s the sandwich they didn’t have at the bakery and sometimes it’s the choice you make on the job.

“Andrew, drop the gun and let my sister go!” Detective Danny Reagan called, his own weapon trained on the former NYPD officer, voice shaking as he looked at you, seeing his own fear mirrored in your eyes. “She’s got nothing to do with this. You want me. Let the kids and her go.”

Shaking his head, former police officer Andrew O'Sullivan pushed the muzzle of his gun harder against your temple. "They are all the leverage I need to get you to do what I want."

"O'Sullivan! This is Agent Scott and Agent Bell with the FBI. Surrender your weapons and let the hostages go. We will make sure that your demands are met, but you need to let the kids and Miss Reagan go."

You could feel the tears running down your cheeks, but you knew you had to be strong for the children. Their parents put you in charge and you, as their teacher, needed to make sure they'd get out safe. “Please Mister O’Sullivan, you got me, let the children go home. They don’t have anything to do with this.”

Your heart was hammering in your throat watching your brother desperately trying to get Andrew to drop the weapon, the ground feeling like it was going to be pulled from underneath you. And here you thought it was going to be a good day today.

Five hours earlier, 9:15 Bluestone Lane Tribeca Café

"So, heard anything from tall, dark and handsome? You looked cute together."  

“Erin!”

“Mom! You’re embarrassing her.”

The lawyer grinned into her coffee mug as the three of you sat together for breakfast. "What!? I saw pictures from way back when. It's been more than four years now, just thought maybe you'd have a run in with him again."

"Nope, haven't seen him since before he started training at Quantico and you would know that. I'm practically living with dad and pop again after those idiots living above me wouldn't have smoked weed and forgot to shut off the water."

Nicky only rolled her eyes at her mother trying to play matchmaker – as always. “You should leave Y/N alone. Danny would have a field day if she came home with him.”

“Thank you, Nicky, I knew why you were my favorite niece.” You took a bite from your chocolate croissant. Usually you’d be getting the breakfast sandwich the café was famous for but today they were all out.

“I’m your only niece, so that’s not a hard feat to do.”

“Yet.” You pointed a finger at the younger woman. “And I don’t even know where he is. I’ll not be running after him and use dads resources to find him.”

“All I’m saying is that you should get laid, you can’t just stay a single workaholic forever." 

Sending your sister a disapproving look, you could see the disgust on your nieces face. She was old enough to be part of that conversation and already had one boyfriend, yet you knew she was absolutely embarrassed by her mother's choice of breakfast conversation.

"Mom! God! I'll be heading off to work or you'll start talking about dad and yourself." Nicky, so much like Erin grabbed her purse and to-go cup, leaned over to kiss her mother's cheek before she moved next to you. With her arm draped over your shoulder, she leaned in as if to whisper into your ear but still spoke at normal volume. "Don't let her bully you into looking him up. You do you, Auntie, but she's right, you need to get laid."

Slack jawed at her gall, you turned accusatory eyes on the lawyer. "That's definitely on you, Erin. You taught her to be like that."

"Well, she's definitely got that from me and she'd make a great lawyer like that."

Letting out a sigh, you leaned back in your chair.

Damn, they were right.

Quickly apologizing to God under your breath, you try to anchor yourself to your mug. It had been years since you had seen Omar. You had met him outside a bar in the Financial District, after a date had dumped her right before dessert, telling her she wasn’t worth his time.

“He’s a dick, he wasn’t going to know what to do with you anyway.”

You sat together at the bar and talked about random stuff – friends, hobbies, only things that wouldn’t compromise him as you later found out he was undercover for the DEA.

“You’re quiet, what are you thinking about?”

Blinking, you watched your sister with a small, wistful smile, something she had seen so often when you had gone out to have breakfast with Nicky and her every Saturday morning. “Nothing.” You shrugged your shoulders, but the secret smile that barely turned up the corners of your mouth was still there and the lawyer knew that one, she had seen it often enough.

Erin took a sip from her coffee, narrowing her eyes at you. “Don’t give me that shit, Y/N. It’s Tall, Dark and Handsome isn’t it?”

“Maybe.” You admitted quietly, looking down at your fingers, busy playing with the white napkin under your croissant.

“You should get Eddie to look for him, maybe he’s in town.”

Shaking your head vigorously. “No, I’ll not be looking for him. We would have seen each other, probably...maybe.”

“New York is huge, you think you’d just walk down Broadway and bam! There he is? Y/N, I can assure you, that’s not how it works.” She laughs, knowing all about it with her ex-husband Jack. “You want him, you need to look for him, he’s not just going to turn up if you snap your fingers.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to look for him, maybe it wasn’t meant to be if I haven’t run into him by now. Or maybe he’s somewhere in D.C., happily married with 1.93 kids, living in the suburbs and chasing the bad guys.”

Chuckling, the lawyer shook her head at you. “You got it all figured out now, huh? Maybe he’s still single, thinking about that maybe with you. He was really nice when he came around for lunch that day.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, Eddie wouldn’t shut up about him for a week straight.” Just then your phone chimed, letting you know that you needed to get ready to get to your Junior High class for their field trip to the museum. You would meet them together with their parents right in front of the museum. “Shit, I’m late! Sorry Erin, I got to head off.”

“We’re not done talking about him!” She called after you as you raced out of the cafe to the next Metro station.

An hour and a half later you remind your seventh grade students to be nice and listen closely to the lady showing you around the National History Museum. “There’s going to be a test on Monday next week, so you guys should take notes on all of this.”

A groan ripped through the hall and I knew they hated me for this. “But Miss Reagan, you said we could have fun today.” Jimmy calls from the back, a frown on his cute face. 

Giggling, you shook your head. They were still thinking it was just going to stay easier from there on out. “I did, but it doesn’t mean you guys can slack off on your school work. This is going to help you with your Science project.”

Groans, followed by sighs from your students were the end of that conversation. You and the group of thirteen-year-olds followed Mrs. Langdon as she talked about the museum, which exhibitions had already been part of the building and what was waiting for the boys and girls of Lower Manhattan Middle School. They were in the Early Adolescence stage and it was absolutely normal for them to act like that. With Nicky, Jack and Sean you had been exposed to that stage early on and you loved them for it.

You entered the Saurichian Hall of the museum, awed by the skeletons, the hairs on your arms starting to raise from the goosebumps at the imagination of having lived back in time, 66 millennia’s ago. But somehow, it wasn’t the only thing that gave you the shivers. At the entrance of the museum you had seen a guy, dressed like everyone else. But you had been around police your whole life and listened to your bothers to know that something was definitely wrong with him. His head was down but you saw his eyes darting about like he was searching for something – or someone.

Getting to the next section, you slightly turned your head away from your students excitingly listening to the tales of each dinosaur exhibited at the museum.

There he was again, the backpack slung low on his shoulders and it looked like he was sweating. Was he sick and needed help? If so, wouldn’t he have asked the people at the front desk or even stayed at home.

Danny had always told you to be vigilant about suspicious people roaming about and this guy fit the description. Should you text Danny or Jamie? They were probably busy with their cases and if he was just a creep you’d make a fool out of yourself and maybe your dad in extension.

Police Commissioner’s daughter accuses visitor at the National History Museum to be a creep and makes a laughing stock out of the Reagan family.

Now that would be the headline of the week.

Turning back to listen to Mrs. Langdon and your students with a sigh you missed him pulling out a gun from under his jacket, pointing it at your back before slightly lifting it up and pulling the trigger.

11:40, Joint Operations Center

“Alright guys, we've got a hostage situation at the National History Museum. Twenty-two students from LoMa Middle School and their teacher. This is high profile. Detective Reagan with the NYPD called it in about fifteen minutes ago.” ASAC Jubal Valentine’s voice rang out through the JOC. He motioned to Elise, one of the Analysts to put every information on the screens. “This is Y/N Reagan, she’s a teacher at the school and also the daughter of New York City Police Commissioner Frank Reagan.”

Your picture popped up on the screens, a happy smile on your face as you sat together with your father and your brother Jamie at a city function.

“You know, now that I’m done with my trainee-ship as teacher, we could make it official. Dad wants me to tag along at this function or other and I’d like to take you as my plus one.” You smiled at him, your arms slung around his neck as you lounged together on his bed.

Omar ran his fingers from your shoulder to your elbow and up again. He loved the feeling of your soft skin under his hands, slightly roughed from the army. “It would be nice, I’d love to finally show you off to my family as well. Erin has been nagging me like a hen to know who the guy is making me smile all day.” He smiled, nuzzling her neck and listening to her giggles as his nose and beard rubbed up and down against that point where her neck met her shoulder.

"I'd like that. I bet your sister isn't the only one nagging." He chuckled, burrowing closer and pushing his lower half against yours earning a soft groan from you.

Your fingers raked over his head, feeling the short cropped hair tickle the palm of your hands. “Pop and dad are already giving me those penetrative looks, you know the ones where they are acting like cops and trying to read a suspects thoughts.”

Closing his eyes, the former army ranger breathed in your scent. It was the one thing that grounded him on days his mind sent him back to Iraq. “From what you told me I’m more afraid of your brother, not your father and grandpa.”

Omar moved next to Maggie, a soft Shit leaving his lips as his eyes swept over the screens. It had been a few years since he’d last seen you, only a few days short of leaving for his training at Quantico. Seeing your face, tear track staining your cheeks with the suspect pressing his gun to your head.

The brunette watched her partner, the fingers of his left hand anxiously playing with his ring. A sign that he was nervous. A sign Maggie had learned in the beginning when they first were partnered up.

“You know her?”

He sighed, “We, ugh, we dated for a while before, before I went into training. I...broke it off, because I thought she’d be better off without me.”

“Gosh, OA.” Maggie murmured, scratching a fingernail along her eyebrow thoughtfully. She knew her partner had been in relationships before – he was Muslim, not a virginal saint, but she had never seen him this distraught or anxious. 

It was clear as day that you were still important to him and it took everything in him to not run out the door and drive off toward the museum.

"What do we have on the suspect?" Isobel questioned, coming to stand next to her 2nd in charge. 

"Suspect is 40 year old Andrew O'Sullivan, former police officer with the NYPD, 54th Precinct and bomb specialist with the Marines. Detective Daniel Reagan, Y/N’s older brother was part of the investigation against him.” Kelly Moran, an analyst at the JOC spoke up, tapping hastily on his keyboard and sending the pictures of their suspect to the bigger screens. “He took drugs from evidence and tried to sell it on the street. O’Sullivan needed it for his daughter, she has leukemia and he was going to take the money to pay for her treatments.”

The analyst pressed a key to show the picture of a little girl, maybe ten years old, grinning at the camera. “Lena O’Sullivan, she”

“His daughter died two days ago, that’s why he’s doing it. He wanted to save her from it and we took the money that would pay for her treatment. Andrew has been angry with me for a while and called me after Lena died.” A new voice sounded from behind them, strong and authoritative, yet they could all hear the pain laced into his words. “He has my sister and if you guys don’t get a move on, Andrew is going to kill them all.” Detective Daniel Reagan had made his way to the JOC, knowing he couldn’t make a move against O’Sullivan without the people of the FBI. You were his little sister and he’d be damned just sitting around at the precinct when he needed to get you to safety. More so when Erin would have his head for being the reason the former officer had you and your kids as hostages.

[bullet-prooflove]

Done: OA Zidan x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @trublu2u @rosaliedepp @district447 @yousigned-upforthis

Companion piece to:

Part One: Trafficking - It’s during a human trafficking case that Omar meets you.

Part Two: Mentality - Omar learns more about the mentality behind human trafficking.

Part Three: One In Five - Omar makes makes a realisation.

Part Four: Free - Omar and you spend some time together.

In The Closet - Omar knows somethings happened.

Omar discovers you’ve quit the FBI when your partner Sammie appears at this desk with a file box full of items that used to reside on yours. There’s a picture of the two of you together from his birthday, a terrarium and a few multicoloured pens that you prefer to use because you’re a visual person.

“I thought she may want these.” She says as she sets the box down alongside him.

“I don’t understand.” He says, his dark eyebrows furrowing into a frown and then she tells him you handed in your gun and badge first thing this morning, that you resigned effective immediately.  

It’s news to Omar because you haven’t been able to get out of bed since he found you nestled in the bottom of that closet. He’d managed to take a couple of days off to look after you but the case they're working it’s at a critical stage and he’d had to come in. He’d hated leaving you this morning but the truth is he needed the space to strategize how to help with what you’re going through.

“How did she seem?” He asks her, leaning back in his seat and toying with his pen.

“More put together than I expected.” Sammie informs him, perching on the edge of his desk. “Washed, dressed, determined just like any other day she comes into work, that’s why it was so surprising.”

He tries calling you after that but it does to voicemail, his texts go unread and he starts to worry, because you’re vulnerable right now and he knows that can take you to some dark places.

When he comes home at lunch time, he finds you packing. The wheelie suitcase containing your podcasting equipment is already alongside the apartment door and you’re neatly folding your clothes into the matching smaller suitcase that resides on the bed.

“Where are you going?” He asks, tucking his hands into his trouser pockets as he leans against the doorframe.

“Portland.” You say without looking at him. “There’s that podcasting conference I wanted to go to. Now I don’t have work at the FBI anymore, I can actually attend. They’ve set up a booth for me and a panel talk.”

“We should talk about what happened with work today-”

“I don’t really have anything to say Omar.” You tell him, finally meeting his gaze. “The organisation I put my trust in have basically just raped me again by letting the man that hurt me go free. How am I supposed to tell other women to trust them? That everything will be ok when years down the line they can just pull the rug out from under their feet to benefit them?”

“You know it’s not that simple-”

“It really fucking is.” You tell him, zipping up the suitcase with a fury he feels through the entire fibre of his being. “And the more you defend them, the more complicit you are.”

“Hanna, that is not fair.” He asserts as he pushes off the frame. “I know you’re hurting right now, that it feels like your world is collapsing-”

“You don’t know how it feels! How can you?!” You snap, your palms coming to rest on the suitcase as you look him in the eye. “You don’t know what it’s to have someone force your face into a pillow so hard you think you’re about to suffocate, you don’t know what it’s like the feel their breath on the back of your neck while they destroy every single part of you. You don’t know what it’s like to give statements to your colleagues, to tell your story to a courtroom full of strangers while the man who took your dignity stares back at you like he’s imagining fucking you all over again. You don’t fucking know!”

“No.” He says, his jaw clenching as he looks away. “I guess I don’t.”

Your phone chimes interrupting the two of you and you sigh as you study the message.

“It’s my Uber to the airport.” You tell him, tucking your phone into the back pocket of your jeans. “I gotta go.”

“We’re not done talking-” He implores but you’re already shaking your head and lifting your suitcase onto the floor.

“I am.” You tell him as you breeze past him, heading straight to the apartment door. “I am done with fucking all of it.”

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What IF

A/N: I'm a little rusty so I hope this isn't to bad and I hope you all enjoy it ! :)

OA X Reader 

Life was always about What If’s, What if I didn’t take this Job, What if I never let home,

What if I actually cared about myself for once. Were you where you thought you would be in life absolutely not. It just felt like the world was passing you by and you were just stuck. 

Everyone was moving on with their lives and you never got up. You never crawled out from that space.

What if you didn’t stay behind. What if you just moved on with your life and worried about yourself for once. 

Your parents had you when they were older. So when you got older they needed someone to take care of them.

Your sisters just kind of moved on and you stayed behind they needed you. So you did the right thing well you thought it was.

You had exciting opportunities to go off to school and be something but you did what your heart was telling you to do. 

But things were changing in your life. You were getting older and you wanted to move on and have a life of your own.

You spent your life taking care of others so now it was time to take care of you. 

OA had invited you to come down to New York to be with him.

You needed him and god knows how much he needed you. That’s why when he asked you he was praying so hard you would say yes. 

The two of you meant back in middle school. You didn’t live in the state but you had opportunities to travel with your school and go to events and even summer programs.

You meant OA at a summer program and from there you guys were inseparable. 

When you moved back home he wrote to you, called you every day.

You guys would visit each other during summer and breaks. All these years never losing touch. You guys were each other's safe spaces. 

His family life was hard and so was yours.

So when talking to each other being with each other it felt peaceful and quiet and the nose wasn’t there. When he joined the army it didn’t change anything between you two.

OA instead never felt closer to you. He thought of you all the time while he was away

. He carried a picture of you everywhere he went. He still did to this day. He even wore the matching necklace you got him before he deployed to keep him safe while he was away. 

OA had been going through a lot in the moment. Work had taken its toll; he just lost another relationship. He had been missing you lately a lot, needing his home and comfort to come back to him. 

You been needing him to. Life lately has just been hard, not even with your parents, just everything.

You wanted  a fresh start. Maybe you had been sending some signals out there hoping he was picking them up. 

You just felt like a pull to him, not that it wasn’t already there it just had been getting stronger. Was needier  the right word?

But you just never wanted to come out and ask him, that’s one thing in this world you hated was being a burden. You didn’t want to make it seem like he didn’t have a choice. 

So when OA called you that one night asking you to come down to New York for the weekend you jumped on the chance. Packing your bags as soon as he hung up the phone. 

You were so excited to just get away and see him, You were counting down the days everyday that it got closer you felt yourself getting more and more excited. 

When the day came you woke up early and already had your outfit picked out

You got to your bus stop like an hour early just because you didn’t want to miss it. You did have nerves because you were worried he would get called into a case. 

But you tried not to let yourself think like that. You tried to stay positive and be happy you were just going. 

The bus ride felt like it was forever even though you knew it was only for a short time.

You and OA had been texting you the entire time. He was telling you how excited he was and how he was planning this amazing trip with you. 

You didn’t care what you did you were just glad you were going to be with him.

Finally after about what felt like 3 days but was really only 3 hours you were back in NYC. You ran off the bus nearly knocking everyone down with you. 

When you got off the bus OA was standing to the side and his smile was so big and bright as soon as soon as he saw you.

You ran right over to him nearly knocking people out of your way. 

OA wrapped you in a tight embrace and you wrapped your arms around him. Afraid to let him go like it was all going to be a dream. 

After a few minutes you two finally let go and grabbed your stuff and headed on out

. OA refused to let you carry your own bags. The two of you talked to each other the entire time like you hadn’t seen each other in years even though you all talked to each other the entire time. 

Everything was just so easy with him like you two just had this connection where you two could just pick up and everything just flowed out with one another. 

After making it to his apartment he helped you inside and his apartment was incredible. For a guy he had it well maintained. 

“Hey look come here” OA said smiling 

He took your bags and walked you down the hallway and you were really curious as to what he was doing. He walked you into a room that had a freshly made bed and it had been clearly cleaned out. 

He sat your stuff down and just looked up at you with the biggest smile on his face. 

“What’s going on” You asked smiling back with also a confusing look on your face. 

“This is for you” OA said 

“For me this is to much for a weekend i mean you cleary did some work in here last time it was a mess with clothes and boxes and everything” You said now just more confused than ever.  

OA had started twisting his ring something he always did when he was nervous and you could tell he was ramping up to something that he was to afraid to ask. 

“Come on what is it” You said smiling and grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the bed and making lay flat. The two of you were looking at each other in the eyes .

“ I uh was hoping it was for more than a weekend thing” OA finally let out 

“What do you mean: You asked you were still playing with his hand. 

“I mean I want you to stay with me like move in me and you” He said squeezing your hand. 

“Why what’s going “ You asked with concern in your voice 

“Nothing i mean I just miss you I need you here with me and I know you want out” OA said ..

You really didn’t say anything to him, you didn’t want to be a burden, did you put pressure on him to ask, thinking back to conversations you had previously had. 

“Hey hey this is me asking because I want you here I need you here” OA said 

You didn’t know what to say you were taken back in the moment at the gesture. 

“Are you sure” You asked 

“Absolutely i need you here I want you here I’m sick you always being so far away from me” OA said. 

“I need you to yeah I need to come you know like I think it’s time I move on and start fresh” You said 

“That is what you deserve to be somewhere else to think about you first and If i’m being honest I’m being a little selfish” OA said smiling at you. 

You smiled back at him 

“Mm oh yeah what’s that” You asked 

“I kind of need you here with me, things have been kind of rough work, everything else and It’s just I miss you and having you here with me and being around you makes everything just so easy” OA said 

“That’s not selfish, it’s incredibly sweet and honest and same though to, I miss being with you having fun and having my person next to me it’s just peaceful next to you” You told him 

Your face turning red when you said it. 

OA let go of your hand and reached out and took his hand and traced your face with his hand.  You meant his eyes with yours and you both just kind of took each other in. The moment felt so surreal and you could feel your heart racing and your breath was shaky. 

You felt like you were gonna pass out but you weren’t your knees just felt so weak.

OA leaned in a little and you meant him half way. It just felt like a huge moment was leading for this. He kissed you and you kissed him back. 

It was nice and slow and you felt like you both were just getting to know this side of each other.

It was so different and it was so new. You felt like you were in high school. Just getting your first kiss for the time. 

You didn’t even realize how long this kiss was until you both felt yourself needing to come back in for air.

When it broke OA put his forehead on yours and you both just laughed. Both just gitty and overcome with so much emotion. 

OA lifted his head up after a few moments and you both just took a few moments to be there with each other.

And soak all this in a moment you were looking for so long. 

“I uh” You both started at the same time. Which made you both laugh. 

“You go first” You said 

“Me first so much pressure” OA said laughing 

“I need to get my feelers before I speak” You said 

“Ouch that bad” He said. 

“Mmmm your gonna find out” you said. 

“Well in that case let me tell you just in case” OA said

He kind of sat up a little bit and cleared his throat. 

“I’m just going to say this and get it out my chest, I love you and not just as a friend or more because were more than friends and I love you more than all of that. I love you more than anything you are my person and my everything. I miss you when your not here when I come home and it’s empty without you here, everyday I pray for something more with you and now i think that time is finally here it’s finally coming true” OA said 

He had a tear come out of his eye and he just looked at you smiling and his face was all bright red and you could tell he was also getting nervous in all this. 

You grabbed his hands and tried not cry in all of this because if you did you would never be able to get the courage to tell him everything you wanted to. 

“Man I knew i should have went first” You said 

And OA looked you a bit nervous and he looked like he was going to have a panic attack so you hurried up and moved it along for the sake of his mental health.

‘“I love you to like more than just friends and like you said more than what our current situation is. I just never thought I was good enough for you. I mean your successful and you have a career and me I don’t have any of that going on. I mean i guess I really never thought you would ever think of me in that way. So i never said anything because I didn’t want to loose you, your to important to me” You said now it was your turn to be a nervous sweaty wreak. 

OA looked at you and he was hurt by what you said. How you could think so little of yourself. When you were everything he ever wanted. 

He grabbed your hands and he squeezed them hard looking at you. 

“Hey look at you, you're amazing and your kind and you always give everyone a hundred percent. And anyone would be lucky to be with you, you have so much to offer and this isn’t your whole story you still have so much to give, and you are worth so much more than what your feeling right now” OA said 

You smiled at him and you could feel your heart beating out of it’s chest. You also started to let a tear roll down. 

“This is going to be good you know for the both of us. I know it we deserve to give ourselves a real shot a real beginning to start over you know. Its what we earned to see where this can go.” OA said 

“What ever happens though were gonna be okay right were always be there for each other right” You said. 

“Always” OA said 

He leaned in and kissed you again this time it was a little more rough this time with a different kind of meaning behind this time.

He wasn’t testing the waters this time he was giving you everything he had. 

You gave him everything you had as well. Like all those feelings were coming out

you were just being yourself not feeling so worried and timid and it was so much more than what you could have imagined.

All those butterflies were coming out of your stomach and working its way out.

Again just as earlier you felt yourself needing air. And it broke and you both just laughed at each other. 

“Let me take you out tonight like for real I wanna do this the proper way. I don’t want to rush I want to enjoy it you” OA said

“I would like that very much” You said 

OA got up and got off the bed, saying a quick goodbye in order to leave you alone for a moment. 

You got up and smiled and looked around your new room. It was beautiful it was big and it had a beautiful view of the city. And there was your favorite color sheet on the bed. And some fresh flowers  were sitting on the dresser. 

OA really put some thought into make it feel like home for you. Something you failed to notice earlier. 

You always wondered what If with OA. He was the always the one who you thought about the one who “got away” in a sense.

Now the crazy part was you didn’t have to wonder anymore. For the first time you felt free and happy. And you put yourself first for the time ever. 

Finally being free from everything you felt happy and okay and a weight was gone and this was just the beginning.

You could start over and do what ever you wanted and that was something you longed for.

[oscnoopy]

𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬 - 𝐠𝐫𝟔𝟑

george russell x reader ₊⊹ smau

what your brother doesn't know can't hurt him, right?

note: my first completed request 🎉 i think this one will have a part 2, if there is any interest! warnings: swearing, implied/referenced sex fc: camille pidoux

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view story replies:

↳georgerussel63: Thank you, my love. So glad I had my lucky charm with me. ↳yourusername: so proud of you, georgie ❤️‍🔥

↳lando: ?? What about ME? I WON THE RACE! ↳yourusername: congratulations. ↳lando: Why are you posting about george anyway do you two even know each other ↳yourusername: you’re an idiot ↳yourusername: we’re friends ↳lando: Hmm 🧐

georgerussell63 just posted

liked by mercedesamgf1, alex_albon, and others

georgerussell63: Nice way to enter the break 🏆🇭🇺 

view all comments: 

mercedesamgmotorsport: So well-deserved George! 🤩👏 yn.norris: 👏👏👏 liked by author user: what is lando’s sister doing in georges comments?? ⤷user: she’s probably known him as long as lando has. don’t be weird.  ⤷user: a girl can’t ask a question anymore? mercedesamgf1: What a phenomenal race, George! Well done. 👊 user: why is no one asking who that girl is in the last pic?? george soft launching? ⤷user: its the same girl hes been vague posting for months. no one knows who she is yet

view story replies:

↳ciscanorris1: have you told lando yet? ↳yn.norris: umm..no ↳ciscanorris1: you seriously need to, it’s been a secret for long enough. he’s going to be pissed. ↳yn.norris: i just wanted to be sure about george before i told lando ↳ciscanorris1: i think two years is long enough to be sure. 

↳lilymhe: double date soon? ↳yn.norris: yes please!! 💗💗

view story replies: 

↳georgerussell63: Please don’t fantasize about misfortune befalling me, my love.  ↳yn.norris: you’re no fun. ↳georgerussell63: Seemed like you were having fun last night, no? ↳yn.norris: 🖕

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