Requested by anon: Hello! Just recently discovered your stories. They are so amazing. Would be willing to write a Maya x Carina x Reader where reader is surprising Carina at the women’s clinic, and something goes wrong and reader has to protect Carina. Reader ends up injured somehow. Maya is one of the first responders on the scene, and is worried about her loves. If you don’t feel like it, you can totally ignore. Thank you in advance!
Words: 2118
The Seattle drizzle was light but persistent as you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, standing just outside the entrance of the women’s clinic where Carina worked. Your heart pounded in your chest with a mixture of excitement and nerves. You had spent weeks planning this -- coordinating with Maya, ensuring Carina wouldn’t suspect a thing, and now, finally, you were here to surprise her with lunch and a bouquet of fresh tulips, her favorite.
Taking a steadying breath, you pushed through the doors and stepped into the warmth of the clinic. The smell of antiseptic mixed with something floral greeted you, along with the familiar hum of nurses and patients. You caught sight of one of Carina’s colleagues at the front desk and offered a small smile.
“Hey, is Dr. DeLuca available?” you asked, shifting the bouquet in your arms.
The nurse gave you a knowing smile. “She’s in an exam room, but she should be done soon. Want to wait in her office?”
You nodded, but before you could move, a loud crash echoed from the back of the clinic, followed by a panicked scream. Your blood turned to ice. Every muscle in your body tensed as instinct took over, and you rushed toward the commotion.
Bursting into the hallway, you saw chaos unfolding. A man, angry, eyes wild with desperation, was yelling, his arm raised as he brandished a weapon. He was standing in the middle of the hallway, blocking the path to Carina’s exam room. Fear wrapped around your throat like a vice, but your feet didn’t stop moving. Your only thought was getting to Carina.
The man’s erratic movements and furious shouting made it clear: he was unpredictable and dangerous. You barely had a moment to process before he lunged forward, forcing one of the nurses back against the wall.
Without thinking, you acted. “Hey!” you called out, your voice strong and unwavering despite the fear gripping your chest. “You don’t want to do this.”
The man whipped around to face you, eyes narrowing. “Stay out of this,” he snarled.
But you weren’t going to stay out of it. Not when Carina was in danger. You stepped between him and the corridor leading to the exam rooms, your pulse hammering. “You’re scared,” you said, your voice firm but even. “I get that. But this isn’t the way.”
For a moment, it seemed like he might listen. His posture faltered slightly, his grip on the weapon lessening. Hope flared in your chest. Then something shifted, his grip tightened once more, his expression darkened, and before you could react, he lashed out.
Pain exploded in your side as a burning sensation tore through your chest. You barely registered the sharp, metallic scent of blood before you staggered back, your knees buckling beneath you. The world tilted as you crumpled to the ground, gasping as the pain intensified. A warm, sticky wetness pooled beneath your fingertips as you pressed a trembling hand to your wound.
Distantly, you heard Carina’s voice crying out your name, the raw panic in it cutting through the haze of pain clouding your mind. Her scream was followed by the sound of scuffling—nurses scrambling for cover, the attacker being restrained, voices shouting over one another.
Then, the sound of sirens. Everything blurred together after that. Shadows moving. Voices yelling. A distinct voice echoed through the hall.
“Seattle Fire! Drop your weapon!”
Your vision swam as you tried to lift your head. Through the chaos, you caught sight of Maya in her gear, her face a mask of fear and determination as she took in the scene—the armed man, the trembling nurses, and then you, bleeding out on the floor.
She was at your side in an instant, her hands hovering over you, unsure of where to touch. “Oh my God, baby,” she breathed, her voice breaking as she took in the amount of blood soaking your shirt. “You’re okay. You’re okay, just stay with me.”
Carina was there too, kneeling beside you, her hands shaking as she pressed down on your wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Tears streamed down her face as she muttered desperate pleas in Italian, her voice cracking with emotion.
“You could have died,” she sobbed, her grip tightening. “Oh Dio, there’s so much blood.”
Maya’s jaw clenched as she fought to stay composed, but you could see the terror in her eyes. “We need a medic now!” she shouted to her team, her voice sharp with urgency.
Your breaths were coming in short gasps, your body growing weaker by the second. The pain was suffocating, but even worse was the look of helplessness on Carina’s face, the sheer panic in Maya’s.
“I—” you tried to speak, but the effort sent a searing pain through your chest.
“Shh, don’t talk,” Carina begged, her hands pressing down harder, trying to stop the bleeding. “Save your strength.”
The paramedics arrived in a flurry of motion, quickly assessing your wound and working to stabilize you. As they pressed gauze to your side, your breaths became shallower, more ragged. Your chest heaved, and you suddenly felt like you couldn’t get enough air.
“She’s crashing,” one of the medics called out. “We need to intubate now!”
“No, no, no,” Carina whispered, her body shaking as she watched them work. Maya pulled her into a tight embrace, barely able to keep it together herself.
One of the medics grabbed a laryngoscope and an endotracheal tube, working quickly as they tilted your head back. “Stay with us,” he muttered, before sliding the tube down your throat. The world dimmed, their voices becoming distant echoes.
Carina sobbed into Maya’s chest as they lifted you onto the gurney. “She can’t die, Maya,” she choked out. “She can’t.”
Maya’s face was streaked with tears, her hands clenched into fists. “She won’t,” she said fiercely, but her voice wavered. “She won’t.”
The ambulance doors slammed shut, sirens wailing into the night as they sped toward the hospital.
Carina held Maya’s hand in a death grip in the waiting room, her leg bouncing anxiously. Every second felt like an eternity. The surgeon’s words kept replaying in their heads—‘We’re doing everything we can, but the damage is extensive.’
The hospital air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and worry. The bright, fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow on the pristine, white floors, but to Maya and Carina, the world around them felt anything but clean. It was messy, chaotic, and terrifying.
Maya paced relentlessly, her hands threading through her short blonde hair, nails digging into her scalp as she tried to keep the panic at bay. Her uniform still had your blood on it, but neither of them noticed or cared. Carina sat hunched forward in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, her hands clasped together so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. Neither of them spoke; there was nothing to say.
The image of the you, lying on that stretcher, pale and unconscious, haunted them both. Maya had seen wounds before, had dealt with trauma on the field, but never had she felt so powerless. Never had she watched someone she loved, someone she cherished, bleed out in front of her while she could do nothing but beg her to hold on.
Maya stopped pacing and turned to Carina, her wife’s eyes brimming with unshed tears. It broke her in ways she hadn’t thought possible. Carina was the strong one, the calm one. But tonight, she looked lost, fragile, like she was being held together by sheer willpower alone.
“What if—” Carina started, but she couldn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t have to. Maya knew what she was asking. What if she didn’t make it?
Maya swallowed hard, shaking her head vehemently. “No. Don’t go there. She’s going to be okay. She has to be.”
Carina exhaled shakily and turned her gaze toward the double doors leading to the operating room. “I should be in there. I should be helping.”
“You know you can’t,” Maya said gently, kneeling in front of Carina and taking her trembling hands in her own. “You’re too close. You wouldn’t be able to focus.”
Carina nodded, but the self-loathing in her eyes was evident. “She saved my life, Maya.”
“I know.”
“If she dies—”
“She won’t.” Maya’s voice cracked, betraying her own fear. She clenched her jaw, squeezing Carina’s hands tightly as if she could anchor them both with her strength alone. “She’s strong. She’ll fight. She’ll come back to us.”
Carina leaned forward, resting her forehead against Maya’s, their breaths mingling, sharing in the silent devastation of waiting. Hours passed, though time felt meaningless. Nurses walked by, doctors hurried past, and still, there was no news. Every second felt like a lifetime.
Then, finally, a surgeon emerged, their scrubs stained with blood—too much blood. Maya and Carina both shot to their feet, their hearts hammering violently in their chests.
“Is she—” Carina’s voice wavered.
The doctor exhaled, pulling down their mask. “She made it through surgery.”
Maya felt her knees almost buckle, relief washing over her so intensely that she could barely breathe. Carina clutched her arm, sobbing openly.
“She lost a lot of blood,” the doctor continued, “and the next twenty-four hours are critical. But she fought. She’s fighting.”
Maya wiped at her eyes, nodding rapidly. “Can we see her?”
The doctor hesitated before nodding. “Only for a moment. She’s still unconscious.”
Maya and Carina didn’t wait for further instructions. They all but ran down the hall, ignoring the stares from the staff. When they reached the room, their breath hitched at the sight before them. You lay still, your face too pale, your chest rising and falling shallowly under the thin hospital gown. An IV dripped fluids into your arm, machines beeped softly, and bandages covered the wound that had nearly stolen you away.
Carina was the first to move, gently brushing a trembling hand over your forehead. “Amore mio,” she whispered, voice breaking. “You’re safe now.”
Maya stood on the other side of you, her fingers wrapping around your limp hand. “We’re here. We’re not going anywhere.”
The hours stretched endlessly as Maya and Carina kept vigil by your side, refusing to leave even as nurses urged them to rest. The machines beeped in rhythmic reassurance, each sound a reminder that you were still with them.
Maya watched every flicker of your eyelids, every slight movement, willing you to wake up. Carina whispered soft reassurances in Italian, her hand never leaving yours. The pain of almost losing you still sat heavily in the air, unspoken but suffocating.
Through the night, Maya found herself thinking back to every moment you had shared, every time you had made them laugh, every little gesture of love you had exchanged. How could the world have almost taken you away from them?
The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor was the first thing you registered when you woke up. Your body felt heavy, your throat raw from the breathing tube, and your side throbbed dully under the influence of pain medication. Blinking slowly, you tried to focus, your gaze landing on two familiar figures beside your hospital bed.
Carina was curled up in the chair, her face buried in her hands, silent tears slipping through her fingers. Maya sat on the other side, her hand clutching yours as if afraid you might disappear if she let go. Her usually confident demeanor was gone, replaced by exhaustion and fear.
As you stirred, both women immediately snapped to attention.
“Amore?” Carina whispered, her voice hoarse from crying.
Maya exhaled sharply, squeezing your hand. “Jesus Christ, you scared the hell out of us.”
Carina let out a soft sob of relief, leaning down to press a kiss against your temple. “You almost died,” she murmured. “But you’re still here.”
Maya pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “Next time, just stick to the flowers, okay?”
You chuckled weakly. “No promises.”
Weeks later, you finally returned home. Maya had arranged the pillows on the couch just right, and Carina had stocked the fridge with all your favorite meals. They hovered, doting over you, making sure you were comfortable, making sure you knew just how much they loved you.
One night, as you lay curled between them on the couch, Carina kissed your temple softly. "You scared us so much, amore. But you’re here. You’re safe."
Maya tightened her arms around you. "And you’re not going anywhere," she said. "We have you now. Always."
You sighed contentedly, letting yourself sink into their warmth. Healing would take time, but with them, you knew you’d never have to do it alone.
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