#mri time soon...

[daily-fgo]

daily fgo day 225: oryou and ryouma

please enjoy this roleswap bc i'm too broke to spend much sq to roll for lancer ryouryou next week

[bigmammallama5]

Did you retire

heaven forbid someone take some time away from fandom to get their health back to normal lol

no, im just biding my time in the gutter waiting for you to walk by

[blurred-antics]

guess I'll have to call up my neurologist soon to discuss a different onset medication ://

[hislittleraincloud]

I feel like my Anons have a fixation.

Do you got a fixation with Percival Hynes White? Because I feel like you have one.

I don't know which Anon I will entertain next, because my brain is still lingering on the one from yesterday. You should know which one, if you're here, but if you don't, get the fuck out of your own head.

I just began to wake up (it's 1:54). I have to take the baby out. Look at what she did to her kiwi bear Squishmallow

She smushed it into the couch and slept on it that way...she has other ones that she hasn't hated on 💀

Look at her seasonal ✨wisps���...glad I found this photo, her wisps are hard to catch on camera when they happen.

Here's a pic of that pic of the Mogwai that everyone is posting from Nat's IG

She likes them thin n' spindly, I like mine small, brown, and cute af... ... ... 🤔

[bi-bard]

Oblivious - Dr. Frank Langdon Imagine [The Pitt]

Title: Oblivious

Pairing: Dr. Frank Langdon X Reader

Word Count: 2,936 words

Warning(s): Langdon isn't married in this, depictions of violence

Summary: (Y/n) has a great day every day. But Frank only has a great day if (Y/n) looks at him. (Otherwise known as Frank being down bad, everyone else knowing, but (Y/n) being completely oblivious)

Author's Note: Shoutout to the ER Ken line for inspiring me to make a story where that summary could work (cannot pass up a good Barbie reference). Also, shoutout to @emziess who seems to have a talent for making Langdon's eyes look so fucking bright in these gifs.

Anyway, go check out my prompt list! It's linked at the bottom!

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The first time I heard about Frank having a crush on someone in the hospital, it was from Cassie.

I had been sitting at one of the workstations, filling out the chart for a new patient who needed to be sent for an MRI to confirm a theory I had. Frank was sitting across from me. I had been so focused on my charts that I didn't even realize that he wasn't working on anything.

"Hey, (Y/n)," he said.

"Yes, Frank," I replied, mimicking his tone. I only ever used his first name if I was joking around or incredibly angry. He was a hard person to be incredibly angry at.

He let out an airy chuckle and glanced at the desk for a moment before looking back at me.

"Do you have a favorite coffee shop," he asked.

"Honestly, I can't remember the last time I went to a coffee shop," I shrugged. "I got an espresso machine as a little gift to myself a few years ago now and it has been a lifesaver. Why? Were you looking for recommendations?"

Frank seemed to deflate a little bit after my comment. "Yeah, yeah, I was. Don't worry about it though."

"Okay...," I pretended to be more suspicious of him than I was. "But if you want to get an espresso machine, I will happily send you a link to the one I have."

"Thank you," he nodded, smiling just a little bit more. "Gotta check on a patient. See ya in a bit."

"You too," I blindly waved at him as I concentrated on the computer screen.

Cassie walked over soon after, stopping next to my seat so she could look at the list of current patients.

"And done," I said as I scanned my ID and logged out of the computer. "Fingers crossed that man isn't here for half a day."

Cassie chuckled at that. "You caught that one pretty quick."

"It helps when a patient is cooperative and the family are forthcoming," I explained.

"And when you're very good at your job," she nudged me.

"I was trying to be humble." I shrugged. "How's your day going?"

"Not as chaotic as usual, but it's still the Pitt," she replied.

"Fair."

I saw her turn around and glance around the room. "I do have some interesting gossip, if you'd like it."

"Okay?" I chuckled.

"People are saying that Langdon has a crush on someone," she reported, giving me a look that almost seemed proud.

I had to fight to not let the disappointment that shot through me show on my face.

Frank and I were about as close to being best friends as you could be when you meet as adults. I thought that he would have been the one to tell me about that. At least, that's the reasoning that I used for myself. Because that would be more acceptable than admitting that I was jealous of a person I don't know the identity of.

"A crush?" I joked. "What is this? High school?"

"Are you fishing for a Bowling for Soup joke?"

"Absolutely," I nodded at her. "Anyway, did this gossip include the name of this crush?"

"I was hoping you would have one," she replied. "You two are closer than anyone else I know here."

"He didn't say a word about it," I shrugged. "I'll let you know if I find out."

"Okay," she said with an amused look. She clearly knew something that I didn't but wouldn't tell me a thing. I furrowed my eyebrows at her. "Gotta go, no rest for the wicked, right?"

"Right," I replied. She walked away quickly, leaving me to look back at the screen and find my next patient.

My conversation with Cassie wouldn't be the only weird interaction I had that day.

A while later, I would find myself walking over to the nurse's station. Dana was typing away at a computer while Frank was staring at the screen over her head. He was tapping away on the table. My focus turned to a bouquet of flowers on the counter.

"These are pretty," I commented, leaning on the counter next to Frank. "Do they need to go to any particular patient?"

"Nope, they were for the department," Dana replied. "Some parents came in to let us know that their kid pulled through. Said that we saved his life."

"Makes it all worth it," I decided.

"Didn't realize you were a fan of flowers," Frank commented.

"Only certain ones."

"Such as?"

"Peonies," I answered. "Easily the prettiest."

"Noted."

I turned to look at him. "Why?"

He seemed to panic for a moment before shrugging. "Feels like a good thing to know."

Dana placed a hand over her face, clearly hiding a laugh.

I gave her a confused look. She just waved me off.

I just shrugged. "Alright, no time to be picky. I'm just gonna pick the first thing I see- oh no."

Frank let out a laugh before quickly stopping himself.

"No, no, no, I changed my mind."

Dana raised an eyebrow at me.

"Based on the information, this looks like a potential... misuse of home goods," I explained. I tried to sound more successful than I would by saying that someone shoved something up their ass that they shouldn't have. "Last time I had a case like this, I had some... trouble being professional."

"I see."

"Yeah..." I muttered. "I guess I'll go-"

"I'll take this one," Frank stopped me.

"No, it's fine-"

"Nope, I'm taking this one," he insisted.

"Why?"

"Haven't you figured out that I'd do just about anything you asked me too?"

I stepped forward and hugged him. "My hero."

He chuckled almost directly into my ear before stepping back. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

As he walked away, I turned back to the screen. "I'll have to buy him dinner or something for that one. Really took one for the team there."

Dana was giving me a weird look. It looked almost identical to the look that Cassie had given me earlier.

"What," I asked.

"Nothing, nothing," she shook her head. "Just wondering, have you heard about Langdon's mystery crush?"

"Maybe... do you know who it is?"

She just stared at me for a moment. "Nope, no idea."

I didn't believe her, but I didn't have the time to question her. "Okay..."

I didn't have another strange conversation that day.

Instead, all I got were some weird looks from time to time. I had caught a few of the nurses side-eyeing me. Dana also seemed to be watching me more than usual. It was all just a bit weird.

It was hard not to notice. Everyone else seemed to be aware of something that involved me, but no one would actually tell me what. It was getting to the point of being annoying.

So, when an unruly patient was wheeled into the Pitt, I was almost grateful for the opportunity to focus on something else.

He was already unhappy when he got there. The behaviors all lined up with some kind of withdrawal.

I had made the decision to move one of the nurses out of the way due to how belligerent the man had become. I don't know why. It wasn't like I was particularly stronger than any of them.

I wasn't strong enough to even pose a threat to the man.

That was proven when the man's arm had gotten out of the hands of those trying to restrain him. He swung full force to one side, cleanly clocking me in the face.

I don't know the full picture of what happened after that.

The full image of the world only truly comes into focus while I was sitting in the longue alone. I had my eyes closed; head tilted back as I tried to let the noise of the world die down for just a little bit. Just long enough to get my bearings.

I opened my eyes when the door opened.

"Hey," Frank said as he stepped inside and closed the door behind me. "How you feeling?"

"I feel like I've got whiplash," I replied. "How's it going?"

"Patient is sedated and is awaiting a psych consult," he explained before coming over to sit next to me. "Here, got some ice to help with the swelling."

"My hero," I grinned as I grabbed the ice pack. I held it to my cheek. "I've called you that twice today."

"And I haven't deserved it either time."

"Oh, shut up and take the compliment." I heard him chuckle. "You should get back out there."

"Not until I'm sure that you're okay."

I sat up straight and pulled the ice away, letting him look at the wound on my face.

Frank was incredibly gentle with me. His fingers were featherlike as he checked on me. I knew he could tell how warm my face was getting. I just didn't know what he would want to do with that information.

"Hey, umm, McKay and Dana have both mentioned something interesting," I said. "They mentioned that you had a crush on someone."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," I continued, returning the ice to my face as he leaned back. "Do you?"

"Um, yeah, you could call it a crush." he shrugged.

"Well, out with it!" I pushed, shoving his shoulder a bit.

"It doesn't matter-"

"Of course, it matters!"

"Alright, alright," he chuckled. "If you remember to ask me at the end of the day, then I'll tell you."

"Deal," I reached out to shake his hand.

I glanced over his shoulder when I felt someone looking at me. I saw Robby and Collins being incredibly obvious about looking at us with what seemed like the hundredth weird look of the day. Then, I saw Robby nudge Collins's shoulder with his own, his face going completely soft as they chuckled to themselves.

"Do you think Collins and Robby are seeing each other again?" I pointed to the view behind us.

Frank turned around to look at them, which seemed to make them realize that we could see them, so they walked away.

When he turned back to look at me, there was this look of disbelief on his face. I furrowed my eyebrows at him. He seemed to snap out of it a moment later, acting as if nothing had happened.

"Don't know, maybe," he shrugged. "They're good together."

"I've always thought so."

Robby popped his head in a few moments later.

Frank muttered about how he would see me later. I nodded at him, thanking him for checking on me. He grinned as he muttered “you're welcome" before continuing his path out of the room.

Robby focused on his mission of getting me to go home. He was sweet, always had been. But he seemed to forget that I cared significantly more about doing this job than I did about whatever bruises may come from it.

After a few minutes, he relented. He muttered about me taking a little more time to use the ice on my face before coming back. I accepted that compromise.

I was relieved that the rest of the day went significantly better. No deaths, no incredibly violent patients, no more moments of anxiety.

Except for the weird looks, which continued everywhere I went. God forbid that Frank and I worked on a case together. Everyone else in the room was looking at us like we were a time bomb that they were watching rapidly count down.

To put it very simply: I was more than happy by the time my shift ended.

Frank was waiting to walk me out to my car at the end of the day. I grinned as I made it over to him.

"Hey," he smiled.

"Hi," I let out a sigh, letting the tension roll off of my shoulders. I frowned when I saw him looking at the blooming bruise on my cheek. "Stop it. You're like the millionth person to give me a look that isn't normal."

"Are you in any pain?"

"It's sore, yeah, but nothing that some ibuprofen and ice can't fix." he didn't seem to believe me. I stepped closer to him. "Look at me. I'm fine. It's a bruise; no serious trauma, the bleeding is over, I have all my teeth. It's over and I'm okay."

He finally relented, nodding at me.

"You never told me who your crush was," I said as we started walking. I heard him sigh. "Bet you were hoping the hit would make me forget about that promise, huh?"

"I was hoping you'd have something distract you from asking again," he confessed.

When he let his sentence end there, I smacked his arm. "Well, out with it!"

"Why do you want to know so bad?"

"Because...," I trailed off for a moment. Why did I want to know so bad? To see if I could even compare to them? Just for the closure so I could move on at long last? "Because you're my friend. Probably my best friend."

"Yup, best friend," he nodded. I paused slightly at the tone he used. I couldn't figure out if he was just annoyed or if he was properly angry with me.

"What was that snark for?" I forced a chuckle to keep the conversation going.

"It's nothing."

"Oh my god," I said, stopping as we made it to our cars. "You are insufferable. Just tell me. What do you think is going to happen? Do you think I'll run off and spill your secret? I would have thought that you thought more of me than that."

"I don't think you'd do that," he admitted.

"Then, prove it by trusting me," I pushed.

He took a deep breath, running his hands over his face.

"Frank-"

"(Y/n), it's you."

Any sentence I had planned had died in the air. I stared at him in silence. There was no way that I didn't look as stunned as I felt.

It was like every weird event of the day had snapped into place. Like putting together a puzzle and finally sitting back to look at the complete image.

"Oh my god," I mumbled.

"(Y/n)..."

"Oh my god," I muttered again, taking a few steps back. He looked a bit panicked. "Oh, I'm so stupid."

He couldn't stop himself from chuckling a bit. "No, you aren't-"

"I am, actually, I really am," I insisted. "You asking me about my favorite coffee place..."

"I was trying to ask you out for coffee."

"McKay coming up to me afterwards and mentioning you having a crush on someone..."

"Her attempt to prove that you had no idea what I was doing when I asked about coffee."

"The comment about the flowers-"

"That was an accident."

"Everyone's weird looks today. Oh God, I thought Collins and Robby were sleeping together again."

I ran my hands over my face. I could hear Frank trying to stop himself from laughing at the whole series of events.

"I am such an idiot!" my sentence was muffled by my hands.

"Hey, hey," he stepped closer to me and pulled my hands away from my face. "You're not stupid. I am for not telling you sooner. You are brilliant. Part of why I... One of my favorite things about you is the fact that you're brilliant."

"Then, I'm just blind as a bat, thanks."

"Oh, for the love..." he cupped the sides of my face, getting even closer to me. I felt like my breath stopped completely. "You are amazing. Brilliant and kind and stubborn as hell and I love it. I adore it. All of it. Nothing else matters right now. Nothing outside of this moment matters."

I forced a chuckle, trying to break some of the tension. "Passionate?"

"A bit, yeah." he smiled at me.

There were a few seconds of silence. My eyes were jumping over every part of his face. His eyes were fixed on mine. I had lost hold of all concept of time at that moment.

I saw Frank open his mouth to speak, but I cut him off by leaning forward to kiss him. It was exactly what I wanted it to be. Gentle, loving. It felt like something had clicked into place. Like it was all a question of when and not if.

My hands grabbed onto the front of his scrubs. It was as if I was scared that he was going to change his mind suddenly. His hands moved to my sides, holding me just a bit tighter. It was enough to calm whatever subconscious part of my mind that had thought he was going to walk away.

I pulled away first. Frank had this smile on his face that made me chuckle quietly to myself.

"I... I don't think I mentioned this," I said, " but I do really like you."

His smile got a little bit bigger as he leaned his forehead on mine. He didn't say anything. He looked at me with the kindest eyes I had ever seen.

"I have just gotten to this point where my brain will automatically draw any other conclusion than someone's showing interest. It's a habit that I've had since high school. Helped me avoid a few pranks, but now... it just... hinders... stuff..."

"Just have to prove you wrong then," he replied before leaning in to kiss me again.

It was at that moment that I realized how much I wanted to stay there for as long as possible. And I would be content there. Because I'd be with him.

And I couldn't ask for much more.

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Tag Lists:

Everything - @geeksareunique

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Navigation Guide

Prompt List - Romantic Tropes

Original Characters Masterlist

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[megalony]

No One Helped- Part 2

I know it's been a while since I posted the first part of this Bobby Nash imagine, but I finally got around to doing a follow up after some lovely feedback on the first part.

I hope you will all like it, I'm contemplating a third part to this if anyone's interested.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05 @creat1venat1onn @devilslittlehelper @darlingcharling-blog @bear8585 @nickie-amore @elliott-calls @person-005 @mbioooo0000 @amara-mars @shypy92 @nikfigueiredo

911 taglist: @teenwolfbitches28 @mandmilovehim @jooniesbears-blog @riywasu @amy2265 @buckandeddiesverison @forestsandgrimoires @peteparkersbug @btskzfav

Bobby Nash Masterlist

Part 1

Part 3

Summary: While (Y/n) is helping out at another station, she gets injured. But rather than helping her, this team decide to tease her about her relationship with her Captain, who she has to call for help.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You've got a bad concussion baby, I need to take you to the emergency room."

One arm stayed looped beneath (Y/n)'s thighs and his other hand pressed into the centre of her back to keep her steady and safe against him.

She had thrown up. Her head was still causing her agony. She couldn't keep focus or even stand up. And now she had blood dribbling from her ear. (Y/n) was suffering from a very severe concussion and Bobby had to get her down to the emergency room to get her checked over. She would need an MRI and a CT scan and some stronger pain meds.

She should have been checked over the moment she fell, not well over two hours later when she was starting to deteriorate.

He carefully moved one hand to check his phone and wallet were in his back pocket before he swiped his keys from the side table and swung open the front door. It had been a long time since Bobby had to make an emergency trip down to the hospital like this.

"Bobby…" (Y/n) twisted her head so her cheek slumped against Bobby's shoulder and her lips merged with his neck. Each breath she took fanned against his skin as he hurriedly locked the door and headed towards the car.

"It's okay sweetheart, we're gonna get you some help."

As soon as Bobby had (Y/n) down at the hospital and she had been checked out, he would be making a dozen phone calls.

And Chief Simpson was at the top of his list.

"Baby just keep those eyes open, okay? Keep talking to me, come on." Reaching across the console, Bobby stretched his hand out to grip (Y/n)'s thigh and squeeze tight to get her attention.

He darted his eyes from the road to look across at (Y/n), trying his best to assess her over and over again in the few short seconds he had before he had to keep an eye on where he was driving.

She didn't look well.

She was trying to curl up in the passenger seat like a frightened child. Her knees were coiling up towards her stomach. Her arms were bound around her chest and her nails were scratching into her arms to try and distract herself from the agony she was having to endure.

She hadn't opened her eyes since Bobby carried her out the house, the natural light of the afternoon sun was too bright for (Y/n)'s pounding headache and the sensitivity clearly showed how impaired she was. Her features were scrunched up in agony and her cheek was meshed against the chair as she faced Bobby.

He kept trying to coax her to look at him, to stay awake and alert but she wouldn't look at him. She kept turning her head from left to right, cowering and curling up and whimpering. She wasn't even speaking to him anymore, she was just crying quietly.

"Baby, we're nearly there now."

Bobby slid his hand from her thigh to change gear and flick the indicator to turn off. He had never been more glad that they lived ten minutes from the station and only fifteen minutes from the hospital, which Bobby had shaved down to nine minutes and counting. He wasn't bothered about a reckless driving charge, he just needed to get (Y/n) help.

No one had helped her so far, and Bobby wasn't about to let her down like everyone else.

"Where?" The quiet croak of (Y/n)'s voice made Bobby's heart drop down to his stomach that started to churn like a cement mixer.

"The hospital, baby."

He caught the glimpse of confusion that scoured across her face as her nose scrunched and she nuzzled her cheek into the seat like she wanted to make herself disappear.

She was getting disorientated. He told her when he carried her out their house that he was bringing her down to the emergency room. Either she was in too much agony to retain that information or her concussion was bad enough to start causing memory issues. Either way, Bobby didn't like these odds.

"We're almost there now, can you try and open those pretty eyes for me?"

Bobby steered to the right and scoured around for a parking space as close to the doors as he could get. He needed to get (Y/n) to a doctor now.

He found a space just as he felt one of (Y/n)'s hands reach out for his bicep and the touch made him jump in his seat. He yanked on the hand break and turned the ignition off before he turned to look over at (Y/n). He was relieved to see she had finally opened her eyes, but the half-lidded look and the way she was shaking his bicep had him shaking.

The breathless, whimper of "Seeing stars," that passed (Y/n)'s lips made Bobby's expression turn harrowing.

"Not for long, we're getting you help now."

Leaning across, Bobby pressed a searing kiss to her temple before he undid both their seatbelts, hooked the keys on his thumb and climbed out the car. It was clear that he was going to have to carry her inside just like he had carried her to the car and that was fine with him. He needed to take care of her and that's what he was going to do.

He rounded the front of the car and opened the passenger door, taking a deep breath before he crouched down and leaned inside the car. He leaned over (Y/n) and took the time to kiss her cheek and gently hold onto her arms.

He eased her from where she was leaning heavily towards the driver's seat and inclined her towards him.

"Okay baby, I'm gonna get you out now, okay?" He carefully turned her head towards him where she tried to open her eyes, but she couldn't manage it. The lights were too bright, focusing on looking up at Bobby was too hard. She just wanted to go to sleep.

Bobby kissed her cheek before he eased her head onto his shoulder and reached down for her wrists. He looped her arms around the back of his neck and slid his hands beneath her thighs to pull her out of the car and into his arms.

He felt just how limp (Y/n) went, turning to jelly in his arms as her weight rested fully on his chest. She was like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He pushed up to his full height and hooked her legs back over his torso just like he had done to get her out the house. His hands squeezed her thighs and he kicked the door shut and managed to lock the car before he turned around.

"Alright, here we go. You're gonna be just fine."

His thumb brushed up and down her thigh and he attached his lips to the side of her temple while he made a quick jog towards the emergency room doors. It had been a long time since Bobby had come down to the emergency room when he wasn't on shift, and he'd never had to bring (Y/n) to the hospital before.

The only time he had been with her at the hospital was when they all donated blood. Bobby and (Y/n) weren't great with needles or seeing their own blood being taken.

Shifting his arms a bit, Bobby deadlocked his right arm beneath (Y/n)'s thighs to keep her secure on his hips while his left hand slid up to press into the centre of her back. He had to keep her steady so he could speed up a bit without the risk of falling or dropping her.

His chin perched on her shoulder as he headed through the automatic doors and turned to the right, speeding towards the reception desk. He didn't have time to try and ease (Y/n) down into a chair and chances were that she would probably slide right onto the floor with how drowsy she was, she could barely keep her head up.

He slumped his elbow down onto the desk and nudged (Y/n)'s hips against the edge so he could lean forward.

The look on Bobby's face was almost unreadable. His eyes were wide with raised brows and his lips parted when the receptionist looked at him, flabbergasted as if she had no idea what he would be doing with someone in his arms.

"Can I help you?"

"I hope so." An edge of sarcasm flooded Bobby's voice as he tried to keep (Y/n) steady when he felt her face slump further into his neck. "I'm Captain Nash, this is my partner, (Y/n). She's a firefighter and she fell off the truck over two hours ago. Severe concussion, I need a doctor to see her now."

"Has she been sick, drowsy?"

"She's thrown up, has bleeding from her ear, a horrible headache that didn't go away with painkillers. And just outside she said her vision's blurring…" Bobby trailed off when he looked down at (Y/n).

His hands tightened on her frame and he nudged his nose against her temple but his blood ran cold when (Y/n)'s head slid from his neck down to bash against his sternum at the top of his chest.

"She's passed out. I need help now!"

The receptionist was quick to look down at her screen before she pressed the buzzer that opened the door to the right of the desk that led into the assessment ward.

"Go into bay one."

With a nod of his head, Bobby turned and quickly headed to the door, barging it open with his shoulder so he could head into the first room on his left. There was a nurse waiting, clearly tidying up from the last patient who had been in there and she seemed a little surprised since she was only just finished and wasn't expecting a new patient so suddenly.

She stepped back so Bobby could carefully ease (Y/n) down onto the bed in the centre of the room. His hand cupped the side of (Y/n)'s neck, easing her head against the pillow and smoothing his thumb over her cheek.

He tried to calm down his breathing as he stared down at his unconscious girlfriend, but seeing her in this state made his insides begin to crumble. There was blood trickling from her ear. Her lips were chapped and discoloured. Her breathing was changing from deep to swift and shallow and she was still unconscious. None of these were good indicators after a concussion and a bad fall.

Bobby reached down to take (Y/n)'s hand in his and he hunched forward just enough so that he could press his lips to the back of her hand.

It didn't take long for a doctor to come into the room, a thin sheet of paper in his hand with the notes the receptionist had clearly made when Bobby hurried in.

The doctor and nurse were quick to stand on the opposite side of the bed and they began their checks. A light across (Y/n)'s pupils that didn't constrict or react to the light. Monitoring stickers attached to her chest to watch her pulse and breathing. Feeling and assessing her head for any bumps, abrasions or swelling.

"How long has she been unconscious?" The doctor looked up towards Bobby while he continued to press against the back of (Y/n)'s skull where he could feel some rather severe abrasions.

"She passed out when we arrived." Bobby reeled (Y/n)'s hand to his chest and tried to take slow, deep breaths. He didn't need to be getting panicked but he couldn't help it.

He suddenly wished he had his rosary beads with him to make sure that (Y/n) would be alright. She had never needed to come to hospital for anything major like this. Bobby had never had to worry about her and he didn't like it. He hated being stood here, uselessly watching without being able to do anything to help her.

This shouldn't be happening.

If Bobby sent Buck or Eddie to the other station instead of (Y/n), this wouldn't have happened. If he listened when she said she was nervous, if he saw the signs and decided against sending her. Hell, if he didn't send anyone at all and declined to help that station then none of them would be in this mess.

(Y/n) wouldn't be in the emergency room, the 118 wouldn't be two people down with Hen as acting Captain. Everyone would have been just fine and all on shift together.

This was Captain Harper's fault.

He had teased (Y/n), he hadn't been professional and he allowed his team to bully (Y/n) and be cruel and uncaring to her. They all prevented her from getting help when she was injured and they had allowed this to happen. If someone looked out for her, gave her an exam and checked her over, if they sent her to the hospital for a check up this could have been spotted and prevented.

"She fell and got a concussion, was she alright after the fall? Did she black out or lose consciousness in the immediate time afterwards?"

The doctor was switching between writing notes and trying to switch tactics for assessing (Y/n).

Bobby watched him intently while he tried to think and keep (Y/n)'s hand glued against his chest. He hadn't been there and he doubted Captain Harper would even be able to answer these questions either. He hadn't been that concerned that (Y/n) had been injured, he would have been the one to tell her to get in the truck and continue working like nothing was wrong.

"No- I don't think so. They dragged her up and took her to the station, and she took herself home. She's been sick and she's bleeding from her ear." Bobby knew that the doctor had seen the trickle of blood in (Y/n)'s left ear that indicated her concussion was bad, but he still pointed anyway.

She said they wouldn't assess her and forced her to get up after her fall, that surely couldn't have done her any favours.

Whenever they went to a scene with a potential head or spinal injury the person got checked and assessed before they thought about sitting them up or transferring them to hospital.

If Harper's team and their awful manner and forcing (Y/n) back to the station had in any way worsened her state, Bobby would be gunning for their jobs.

The nurse attached an oxygen mask to (Y/n)'s lips and nose while the doctor set about sliding a blood pressure cuff up her arm. He didn't seem happy with the results he got and when Bobby leaned over to look at the numbers, his heart went in the opposite direction.

"BP's crashing. Send for an MRI now."

That was both frightening and relieving to Bobby and his chest shuddered when he had to let go of (Y/n)'s hand. His eyes followed her as the nurse made sure she was stable and the brakes were off the bed so they could get her ready for transfer. She needed to be taken for an MRI and they would see what action to take from then.

"Can I go up with her?"

"You can wait in the MRI ward waiting area, we'll find you with the results."

Part of Bobby wanted to protest even as he followed both nurses who came in to transfer (Y/n) out of the trauma assessment bay and through a back route to the MRI ward. He wanted to disagree and ask to go in with her, but he knew he wouldn't be allowed.

(Y/n) was unconscious, she wasn't alert and panicking like she would be if she knew what was happening. He might have been allowed in if she were awake because she wouldn't handle such a confining, nerve-wracking procedure like being stuffed into an MRI machine. But she was unconscious and they had to move fast.

There was nothing that Bobby would be able to do for (Y/n) if he went in the room with her. All he could do was follow and sit in the empty waiting room.

His elbows flopped onto his thighs and he stooped forward with his head hanging down like he was having a hangover. Part of him felt like he was, his mind was beginning to fog over and he couldn't find his centre of balance or organise his thoughts.

Bobby knew how long it would take for the scan to be done, but it still felt like time had stopped while he sat there on his own. His foot jittering against the floor and his knee bouncing up and down causing his arms and his head to jitter and shake too.

He was still in his uniform. His starched black trousers and his cotton shirt with the station logo in the right corner. He knew (Y/n) was still in the exact same uniform too. They should both be on shift together and instead they were here in the emergency room with uncertain circumstances and outcomes in the balance.

He didn't know what to do with himself, all Bobby could think about was how someone could do this to (Y/n).

How could Harper think that someone falling off the roof of an engine wouldn't require medical assistance? How could he presume that (Y/n) was making it up or pretending to be hurt to gain sympathy when everyone must have seen her fall and heard her scream or cry out and writhe in agony.

Bobby had seen the state she was in when she came home. She was in agony, she was crying, barely able to open her eyes. She had been sick, taken medication, could barely get up off the sofa and it was a miracle in itself that (Y/n) had gotten herself home unscathed without collapsing beforehand.

Someone was to blame for this and Bobby was going to make sure that they got exactly what they deserved.

Bobby was so caught up in his thoughts and the images of what he wanted to do to Harper's team that he barely heard the doctor calling out his name.

As soon as the doctor was within reach, Bobby shot up from the uncomfortable plastic chair he had been slumped in. His back straightened up and his hands began to clench and twitch at his sides as he tried to calm himself down and be approachable for whatever news he was going to be given.

"The scan showed she has a small bleed on the brain, conclusive with a concussion."

"What do you have to do?"

Bobby didn't like the sound of that. Any bleed around the brain was dangerous, she could start having seizures, lose brain activity or blood flow and cause a stroke or an aneurysm further down the line. There were so many complications that could stem from this.

"We'll go through a vein in the thigh to get up to the bleed and repair the damage which looks minimal. And we'll need to put her on medication for at least three weeks to prevent any further bleeding or aneurysms."

***

Relief swarmed through Bobby when he looked up to see Chief Simpson aiming his way.

Part of him hadn't truly believed that the Chief would come down to the hospital when Bobby called. But then again, he had sounded rather panicked and furious down the phone. The Chief might have thought that Bobby was entering some kind of breakdown, he might only be here in order to see whether or not he had to take Bobby off shift lead or if Bobby himself needed medical attention.

He stopped tapping his phone against his thigh and stuffed it back into his pocket again now that he had someone's attention.

Bobby had been downstairs for a good half an hour trying to get hold of people as the only good signal he could get was out in reception rather than up here in the waiting room.

He had called through to Hen and checked she was still alright with being acting Captain and that the shift was going well after all the chaos from today. He tried to call through to the 189 and to talk to Captain Harper but he had no luck getting hold of him and it had only riled Bobby up.

He rang the main office, talked to a snotty receptionist and the head of incident reporting before he finally got to speak to Chief Simpson and demand that he come down to the hospital because of a situation he wouldn't explain on the phone.

Now part of Bobby could relax. Now he could try and simmer down and explain the situation and get the Chief to do something about Harper. Because if no one took him off shift soon and hauled him into the office for what he had done, Bobby would be going down there himself, and it wouldn't be pretty.

"Nash, what's going on? Why are we here?" Simpson looked out of place and he seemed to sense it immediately.

He looked around the waiting room that Bobby had told him to come up to, it was an area just off from the emergency room. Sort of in between stations and units and it was where Bobby had been told he could wait in privacy until they had news about (Y/n)'s surgery and got her onto a ward.

Simpson wasn't in his full uniform like he usually was when he met Bobby which happened to be mostly on formal occasions or appraisals. But he was still in a dress shirt and starched trousers and he was glancing around in confusion, clearly not knowing the situation at hand.

He didn't know who had been hurt or what kind of accident had happened. Nothing had been reported or sent through to him or anyone else in the office. The only complaint they got was Bobby yelling down the phone for someone- preferably the Chief- to get down to the emergency room as soon as possible. And no one felt capable of denying that order from Captain Nash.

Simpson looked as if he was going to reach his hand out to get a handshake from Bobby, but he wasn't having any of the formalities. He hadn't brought him here for a civil conversation, he wanted a serious chat and some repercussions in place.

"I had to bring (Y/n) here, she's in surgery." The rapid tapping of Bobby's foot began again on the tiled floor and it made his body skew off kilter with all the adrenaline swarming through his system. He felt like he was going to be sick, something that didn't happen very often.

Usually Bobby was calm and in control, it had been years since he'd faced the thought of a loved one being seriously hurt. Aside from the team. They were his family, but they weren't his significant other, they weren't someone Bobby opened up to and allowed himself to love and be vulnerable with and risk losing or hurting like he had done the last time.

He didn't want to face the thought of losing (Y/n), and she was hurt today because he made the decision to send her to the 189. A wrong decision. A decision that had put (Y/n) in surgery. Bobby had done what he feared he would, what he was afraid of happening if he loved someone else.

"Did something happen on shift?" Simpson didn't have knowledge of who worked what days, he didn't memorise or care to remember that kind of thing.

There were hundreds, if not thousands of people that the department had to look after and govern, the Chief couldn't be expected to remember them all personally or know what days they worked and which were their days off. But he knew he wouldn't have been called down here if this had happened when (Y/n) was on her day off. Something had to of gone wrong on shift, but that didn't explain why no report or statement or call had been placed back at the department.

He watched the way Bobby's hands moved to clench around his hips and he shifted his weight from foot to foot, cocking one him out to the side. He tried to take a deep breath but it wasn't working when all the adrenaline was coursing through his system and battling against the anger he felt.

One hand moved to run across his sharp jawline and he nodded as he looked into the distance to steel himself and stop from becoming outraged. "Yeah, yeah something happened. And you need to pull Captain Harper in for it right now."

"Bobby, slow down. Tell me what's happened first." Simpson tried his best to motion towards the seats lined against the wall, but Bobby was too riled up to sit down again.

He had sat for twenty minutes while he waited for (Y/n)'s MRI, he had sat down to try and calm down when they took her to prep for surgery. He couldn't sit any longer, he had to be up and moving around and he had to get this mess sorted out before something else went wrong.

"What's happened is malpractice. I got a call today to send someone over to Harper's station as they were a few people down. I sent (Y/n) and I expected her to be treated fairly and looked after, what happened was they bullied her and she got hurt."

"How'd she get hurt?"

Bobby couldn't tell whether it was a shock or not for Simpson to learn that Harper's team were a bunch of bullies. His expression was neutral and gave nothing away and that made Bobby feel worse. He wanted to see the same outrage he felt mirrored on the Chief's face. He wanted him to be riled up and angry and to want to storm off and sort this mess out right now.

Standing here the picture of calm wasn't helping and it wasn't giving off the best impression either. At least not in Bobby's eyes.

"(Y/n) fell from their engine and got concussed. That team dragged her up and took her back to the station without an assessment or any bloody checks, they all but told her to man up. And now she's here."

If Bobby weren't restraining himself so much, he would have gone into a further rampage. He would have explained how they acted as if she had stubbed her toe rather than whacked her head on the concrete fall after a substancial fall. He would have gone into further detail how they picked on her because of her relationship with Bobby, something which should have been no big deal and nothing to be ashamed of.

As soon as Bobby and (Y/n) got into a relationship, he told Simpson. He told the office so it could be on file that he was seeing someone in his own station. It wasn't against the rules but they had to tell people so everyone knew and couldn't say that (Y/n) was being favouritised.

No one had ever said she had special treatment, but their relationship had caused her to be alienated and bullied at another station and Bobby wouldn't stand for that.

"Oh God." Simpson moved his hand to rub at the back of his neck before he looked up at Bobby. "Harper put a note on the file, said she walked out of shift without telling anyone-"

"She went home because she was sick and panicked! No one would help her or take her seriously, she had to get out of there. I found her barely conscious and now she's in surgery because she had a bleed on the brain. If I didn't get to her who knows what would have happened."

What did they expect her to do?

Was (Y/n) supposed to of waited around at the 189 until she collapsed and they had to take her to the hospital themselves? Was she wrong for feeling so afraid and hurt that she went home?

No one bothered to check her over or ask if she was alright, they forced her to carry on as if nothing had happened and they would have blamed her if she collapsed on shift back at the station. There was no choice for (Y/n) but to leave.

If she tried to tell Harper she needed medical attention he would have penalised her in front of his whole team and he wouldn't allow her to go. He would put a mark on her file and draw her up for going against orders. (Y/n) had to leave for her own sake and Bobby wouldn't let anyone say otherwise when it was the truth.

"She got no checks whatsoever?"

"None. She called me, frantic and crying that she was in agony and had to go home. I didn't send her there expecting her to get hurt or that I'd have to bring her here myself because they didn't have the decency to look after her."

He wouldn't be sending any of his team to any other station for the foreseeable future. No one would be forced to move when Bobby couldn't trust their neighbouring stations to care for his team the same as he would. If anyone was hurt on his watch he would get them checked out and send them home. If anyone had problems or fears he would want them to talk to him.

He wouldn't let his team be bullied or allow them to pick on a new recruit or a new member from a different fire house. Bobby wouldn't stand for any of that and the fact that Harper clearly allowed it was beyond infuriating.

When it looked like Simpson wasn't about to do anything or didn't quite know what he was supposed to do, Bobby took a daring step closer. He stood so their shoulders were squared up and they were one foot away, allowing the vengeance in his eyes to be crystal clear, damn the consequences.

"If you don't do something, I will."

If Bobby didn't see any progress by the end of the day, he would be doing things his way. He would be going down to the 189 and dragging Harper out of that house by his thinning hair. Bobby would demand to be told the truth and he would get Harper to explain it to everyone in the office.

He would make a report on every worker in that house who thought it was funny to tease and bully (Y/n) while she was working with them. He would find out which ones had ignored her pleas for help and who didn't bother to assess her and he would make sure that they paid the consequences.

Somebody had to do something, lest they want Bobby to take matters into his own hands like he already started to do when he called the Chief.

"Now Bobby, you know full well-"

"I mean it. That man told (Y/n) she got no free passes in his station and they dragged her up and made her go back to the station after an injury. Because she's my partner he victimised her. Do something."

***

Something strange crossed (Y/n)'s face when she looked down. Her fingers were slow and tepid as she traced the pad of her fingertips across her left thigh where her pyjama shorts had rolled up.

The little incision in her thigh was odd and the skin was tender and slightly swollen. It was strange to think that a wire had been inserted through that cut into her vein and had gone all the way up to her brain. Just the thought was enough to have (Y/n) shivering and pulling the hem of her shorts down so she didn't have to see the little mark.

"Can I come in?"

Her head snapped up which caused a rickoting headache to roll around in her head like a pinball. Her hands scrunched up in the bedsheets she was sitting on and she looked at who was in the doorway.

Chief Simpson.

Now he was someone (Y/n) didn't get to see very often, and for good reason. If she saw him it was either for a celebration or a very bad incident. (Y/n) was a plain worker, she wasn't a Captain like Bobby or an acting Captain like Hen, she didn't need to see the Chief for any reason. Seeing him now made her stomach churn and had adrenaline coursing through her system.

Her eyes drifted to look over at Bobby before she nodded. She didn't want to speak to anyone right now, but she knew it needed to be done sooner or later.

She shifted back on the bed and crossed her legs beneath her but when she stretched her hand out to the right, Bobby was quick to take her hand. He got up from the chair beside the bed and moved to sit down next to her. Part of Bobby knew that Simpson might ask him to wait outside, but they all knew that wasn't going to happen.

If they were in the office (Y/n) would be allowed someone with her for support so it was no different here. She needed support, she needed Bobby and he wasn't going anywhere.

"Are you up to talking?"

Uncertainty flooded Bobby's eyes when he looked over at (Y/n). Her expression was blank but there were so many emotions flooding her pupils that he couldn't keep track.

(Y/n) shrugged. It wasn't as if she had a choice, she needed to talk at some point and explain what happened and the sooner she spoke, the sooner this mess could be sorted out. She wished Bobby could handle it, that he could make a complaint about Harper and that would be it as far as (Y/n) was concerned.

This was going to make waves and she didn't want to cause friction or problems between the stations.

"I've been down to the 189, talked to the people on shift and to Harper. I've been given a few different stories, but everyone confirmed your fall."

Well that was comforting. They couldn't exactly deny the fall or else the Chief would have to speak to the public who they had been helping during the call out to get their outside point of view. The team couldn't lie when they all witnessed (Y/n) fall from the truck.

And clearly the 189 knew that (Y/n) was now in the hospital, so denying her fall wouldn't do them any good when she had the medical treatment and diagnosis to back her up. Not that she believed any of them would lie about the fall, they knew better. That team would simply cover up the fact that they denied her any treatment because they knew it would earn each of them a reprimand.

With Bobby now sitting on the side of the bed with her, Simpson reached out for the vacated chair and took a seat beside the bed. He looked calm and his smile was relaxing, but that calming look wasn't making (Y/n) feel any better.

She tangled her fingers together with Bobby's and leant her cheek on his shoulder. His arm was coiled into her chest so she could curl around him and hide away in his side.

"They said you got up, you were talking and responsive and didn't ask for an exam."

(Y/n) felt the way Bobby huffed and his chest tensed up. What would it have mattered if (Y/n) tried to deny a physical? If she fell from that height and hit her head she would be mandated to have one either on scene or back at the station. They would have checked her out either way and not doing so was against the rules.

But Harper was clearly trying to deflect the blame onto (Y/n), as if he hadn't put her through enough already. It would be a lesser reprimand on him for not following up with an exam than flat out denying (Y/n) one.

"I didn't get up." (Y/n) looked down at the back of Bobby's hand which she was examining while she corrected the Chief. "I blacked out, but Thompson dragged me up, I- I didn't have a choice. Eddison tried to help but Harper, he- he denied me medical attention."

She hadn't gotten herself up after that fall. She hadn't stood to her feet and said she was fine or started talking right away. She lost her vision, she felt like she was going to pass out and then Thompson just grabbed her and hauled her to her feet like she had only strained a muscle.

He gave no concern for (Y/n)'s wellbeing or whether she had been injured and no one listened when she said she had.

"You told them you were hurt?"

(Y/n) hadn't noticed when he walked in, but Simpson had a notepad and a pen in hand that he was now jotting a few things down in. Clearly he was taking this seriously which was a good thing, but it still made the nerves inside (Y/n) go haywire.

"I cried. Said my head hurt… I was told, no free passes in their station." (Y/n)'s lips curled into a broken smile as tears were already welling up in her eyes again.

She felt bad for admitting that she had cried, like it was wrong or some kind of weakness, which is exactly what the 189 thought of it as. She had started to cry, she cradled her head and said she was in agony, she asked explicitly to be checked out and then argued with Harper when he denied it.

What else was she supposed to do? Stand there and demand to be checked out to then be berated by his team and have them be crude to her? They probably wouldn't have checked her properly anyway if she made a fuss and disagreed with Harper out in the open.

"They kept jibing that I was coming onto Harper, I didn't feel able to argue with him, with any of them. I called Bobby a-and went home."

"Why didn't you wait at the station for Bobby or someone to come to you? You didn't tell the team you were leaving-"

"Harper said sleeping with my Captain might get me a free pass in my station, but it- it wouldn't work in his. And the team agreed."

(Y/n) unravelled her hands from Bobby's arm when she felt him go slack beside her and the small glance she stole up at him made her heart break. She hadn't mentioned that earlier. She hadn't relayed Harper's full conversation with her to Bobby, or how crude he had truly been to her.

She had been hurt and penalised because of her relationship with Bobby. He shouldn't have sent her. He should have been there to help and protect her. Instead she had fled the station and gone home in a horrible state and practically collapsed at home. She could just have easily collapsed in the street and not made it home. Any number of worse things could have happened to her, and all because of Harper and his team.

"You think he would let me leave? What should I have done?" A broken sob followed (Y/n)'s words and she dropped her head forward so she didn't have to look at them anymore.

The pain in the back of her head was starting to ignite and rage like a wildfire and she moved her hands to cup the sides of her head.

When she felt Bobby's hands on her shoulders and his chest pressing into her back, (Y/n) let him ease her into his chest and she felt his lips very gently attaching to the back of her head. She could barely hear him murmuring that it was okay over the ringing in her ears.

Her head flopped back onto Bobby's shoulder but it caused a further shockwave to rattle through her temple and had her whimpering and turning to press her lips and nose against Bobby's neck. She pulled her knees up towards her stomach and curled up into Bobby's side until he turned to hold her a bit better.

Bobby twisted so his chest was facing her and he could reel her into him and let her cuddle into his chest like she was desperate to make herself disappear and become invisible. He curled his left arm around her waist and moved his right hand to cup the side of her face where she was cradling her temple.

"We're done." The stern tone to Bobby's voice gave no room for negotiation. (Y/n) was in pain and she was distressed, Bobby wouldn't sit and watch her get any worse than this and become distressed when it wasn't (Y/n) who Simpson should be questioning.

With a nod of his head, Simpson got up and moved the chair near the wall so it was out the way. He could see he- and anyone else from the office- wouldn't be welcome back to question (Y/n).

And he knew if they didn't take action now, Bobby would be taking things into his own hands.

[fivewholeminutes]

HEY LOOK I BLINKED AND IT'S ANOTHER WEEKEND ALREADY time is an illusion which hates me

Y'all i love u not ignoring u, just having a busy weekend, but i am kissing on the mouth everyone who sent me an ask lately 🥺

[jellycatstuffies]

Personal Update

I feel it's time to explain why I have been posting much less frequently on here and my Instagram page. For over a year, and the past months especially, I've been struggling with neurological issues, mainly headaches that almost never go away and come with other symptoms, so it's been difficult to keep up my normal routine.

After lots of tests, hospital and doctor visits, I'm now waiting for the results of a brain MRI and to try a painkiller that might finally give me relief. It's been heartbreaking for me to no longer be able to post here daily. I still have the same love for Jellycats and I love this blog. I hope I can be back to normal soon. Your messages, though I cannot answer them all anymore, always put a smile on my face and so do your reactions to my posts. (I love scrolling through the comments and the random tags in the reblogs, yes I see ALL of them🤣) and I wanted to say thank you for that.

I will hopefully come back stronger soon!

(and usually don't do this but I found it too funny not to share, one person messaged me to tell me that my age makes me not a boy but a man (which is a whole different issue) BUT, since people always get my age wrong, I want to take this opportunity to invite you all to look at this photo and tell me what age you think I look like😉)

Much love,

-Victor

[moonstruckme]

It's me once again! Bothering you twice in a day, I'm annoying like that, ha just kidding. But yes James is soooo wholesome, it's crazy how he became my favorite boy. So Mae, I suppose you are super busy because being such amazing writer is no easy job when you have requests coming all the time but, if you have the time, whenever that is, could you write something about James? Like James being so wholesome, the best boyfriend, the fluffiest thing you can think of, maybe something with words or affirmation and kisses and hugs and just very lovely things, feel like I need that. If you can of course.

Hope you are having a very cool weekend and my username is basically my favorite colors and it has something to do with Van Gogh and my favorite singer but this kid knows something, haha it's so funny, kind of serendipitous if you ask me :) love that. Well, I'm going to set you free, read you soon.

P.S. Sorry this was so loonng

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!! Sorry this took so long lol, I had to wait until I had an idea that wasn't already in my requests but I appreciate your patience! This is perhaps more hurt/comfort than straight fluff lol, but he is the most wholesome ever <3

cw: concussion

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 603 words

James’ hand is especially gentle as he strokes over your hair. Your nose dents into his thigh, and his jeans are coarse and scratchy but the slight pressure is nice. 

“Still dizzy?” he asks, carefully quiet. 

“A little.” Your own voice is thin, fraught. “Not as bad.” 

He sighs, and you feel too weird to decipher whether it’s in relief or dismay. “I’m sorry, angel.” He lifts one of your hands to his mouth, kissing the side. “Is it hurting in any one place?” 

“It’s my whole face. But most in my forehead.” 

James’ touch is featherlight, ghosting over the spot where you’d smacked your head on the stairs. “Here?” 

“Mhm.” 

He makes a worried humming sound in response. You sit in silence for some time, and it’s not uncomfortable, but nothing is comfortable for you right now. You feel terrible, unlike yourself and unsettled because of that and also weepy but not as much as you are embarrassed. And dwelling upon any of this for too long makes your head spin worse. You don’t think you’re dying though it feels like you might be. 

The warm bead rolling down your nose brings you to the realization that you’re crying. James’ coo follows a moment later, and his hand splays protectively atop your head. 

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Do you feel alright to sit up?” 

“Okay,” you mumble. 

He does the work for you, though it’s hard to keep track of the movements. One second your head is on his lap and the next you’re propped against his chest, one muscled arm supporting your back while James rests his lips against your forehead. 

“You’re okay,” he promises. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.” 

“I don’t really feel like going to dinner anymore,” you admit, tasting salt as a tear finds its way into your mouth. 

“Oh,” James lifts his lips to look you in the eyes, “honey, I didn’t expect you to. I’m going to call Remus and cancel in a minute, okay?” He brushes a lock of hair away from your face with his pinkie finger, stroking a sweet line down your cheek. “If you go anywhere, it should probably be to the doctor.” 

“No.” You close your eyes, too upset to care about the low whine that escapes you. “What’re they gonna do?” 

“I don’t know, baby.” James traces the same line again. “They might want to do an MRI or something. I’ve had a concussion before, they’re serious business.” 

You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. The material of his jumper is soft beneath your cheek. “I can’t think about it right now.” 

There’s a brief pause. 

“Okay. Okay, we can talk about it tomorrow, if it’s still bad then.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t need to be sorry.” James’ arm wraps around your middle, squeezing lightly in a gentle sort of hug. You think that he’s being very careful with you, which you appreciate. You don’t imagine you could handle much more sensation at the moment. “I know it sucks, angel, and you’re handling it so well. We’re gonna do our best to get you feeling better. I love you so much, you know?” 

You feel like you might cry again. You don’t think you have the energy to stop yourself. “I know,” you tell him. “I love you so much, too.” 

“Heaps and heaps.” He gives you another little squeeze, his ability to repress his affection tenuous at best. “Probably the most anyone has ever loved anyone, if we’re being honest.” 

“James.” 

“Yeah?”

“I can’t do that kind of math right now. I love you a lot, okay?” 

“Okay. Same here.”

[sxcretricciardo]

not the end - DR3 (pt.2)

part one here

•

A whole year had passed since that night in the garage.

Twelve months of sunrise rides, shared breakfasts, tangled limbs under sun-drenched sheets, and a kind of joy Daniel hadn’t felt in years. After a few months of long weekends and “accidental” sleepovers, moving in together just… happened. Like everything with you—it was easy. Natural.

Daniel had traded the roar of the F1 paddock for a slower, dustier rhythm. One that started with your sleepy smile in the morning and ended with your boots next to his by the door. His house had become a home again. A pair of your gloves sat next to his on the bench by the front door. Your muddy bike leaned beside his in the garage. Your laughter filled every corner of the space he once thought would echo forever.

His friends adored you. Max called you “Ricciardo’s better half” with a smirk every time you visited. Jack, the one who dragged Daniel to the track in the first place, still claimed it was his doing that the two of you met. And his family? They adored you. His mum sent you recipes. His sister sent you memes. His dad sent you links to overpriced tools you “needed” for your bike.

Everything was good.

Better than good.

Until it wasn’t.

-

It was a Sunday—your usual track day.

The air was warm, the sky cloudless, and the course was slick from the early morning watering. You were laughing with Daniel at the starting line, helmet half on, teasing him about how you were still faster through the back stretch.

“Oh, we’re lying now?” he grinned. “That’s cute.”

You blew him a kiss before pulling your googles down.

And then the gate dropped.

You always rode clean. Fast. Controlled. But the track was unpredictable that day. A soft rut in the dirt, a mistimed jump. You hit the ground before you even had time to react.

Daniel was behind you on the trail, close enough to see your bike go sideways mid-air, close enough to watch your body slam into the dirt hard, the impact echoing louder than the engine noise. You didn’t move.

He dropped his bike before it even stopped rolling, sprinting toward you with panic bubbling in his throat.

“Hey—hey, babe, I’m here—” His hands were shaking as he dropped to his knees beside you.

You were conscious, dazed, winded. But it was the way your face twisted in pain, your hands immediately clutching your knee—that knee—that told him everything.

“No, no, no, it’s okay,” he whispered, trying to stay calm for you, even as his heart thundered in his chest. “You’re okay. Just breathe. I’ve got you.”

You shook your head, jaw clenched, eyes squeezed shut. “It’s bad. I heard it pop.”

He pressed his forehead to your helmet. “I’ve got you. We’re going to the hospital. Right now.”

The drive was quiet except for the sound of your breathing—shallow, strained. You held his hand the entire time, your grip tighter than ever before. He never let go.

At the hospital, time blurred—x-rays, MRIs, hushed tones between doctors. Daniel didn’t leave your side once, not even when the nurse tried to usher him out during scans. He stood by the window, pacing, fist pressed to his mouth.

When the doctor finally returned, the look on his face told you everything.

“It’s a full re-tear,” he said gently. “The ligaments are worse than before. I’m going to be honest—if you want to have any shot at getting back on that bike, you need the surgery. And it needs to happen soon.”

Silence.

You felt like the air had been sucked out of the room.

Daniel was sitting beside you, his hand still cradling yours, but your mind was spinning.

“What are the odds?” you asked softly, already knowing the answer.

The doctor hesitated. “They’ve improved since the last time we spoke, but it’s still risky. Success rate is about 50%. You could come back stronger… or not at all.”

When he left the room, the silence sat heavy between you and Daniel. You stared at the white hospital sheet, unable to speak.

Daniel turned to face you, eyes already glistening. “Say something.”

You swallowed. “I’m scared.”

“I know.”

“What if I lose everything?” Your voice cracked. “What if I’m never the same again?”

He slid closer, pulling your face gently toward his. “Then we figure out a new same.”

Tears spilled freely now, yours and his. He rested his forehead against yours like he had a year ago in that garage—only this time, the weight between you was heavier.

“I don’t want to be useless,” you whispered.

“You’re not,” he said firmly. “You’re not your leg. You’re not your injury. You’re you. You’re the one who got me out of my darkness. You’re the reason I laugh again. The reason I believe in second chances.”

He kissed your temple, then your cheek, then your hand.

“We’ll get through this,” he said. “Surgery or not. Bike or not. I’m not leaving.”

That night, you fell asleep in the hospital bed, your hand still in his. Daniel stayed beside you, head resting against your arm, quietly whispering promises into the dim light:

“We’ll ride again. Maybe different. Maybe slower. But we’ll ride again.”

-

You remembered the moment before the anesthesia kicked in—Daniel brushing his thumb over your cheekbone, leaning close with tears in his lashes.

“Don’t be scared,” he whispered, kissing your forehead. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

You believed him.

Even though you were terrified.

The surgery was long. Complicated.

Your doctor called it a “technical success,” a phrase that sounded cold compared to what your body had just endured. They’d reconstructed the shredded ligaments, cleared the scar tissue from your old injury, and grafted a piece of your hamstring to reinforce the joint. He said it was one of the worst internal knee injuries he’d ever seen on a rider who could still walk.

Daniel didn’t care about technical terms.

All he heard was: she’s okay.

-

You spent the first night in the hospital with tubes and wires stuck into you, your entire leg wrapped in thick layers of gauze and padding.

The pain was relentless. Not sharp, but deep—like someone had driven a drill into your bones and let it buzz there. You couldn’t move your leg at all, and the idea that this was just the start of your recovery crushed you. You tried to keep your eyes open through the haze of morphine and fear.

Daniel didn’t sleep.

He sat in the recliner beside your bed, holding your hand in both of his, whispering things you could barely understand. Things like:

“You’re stronger than this.”

“I love you.”

“We’re gonna ride again.”

-

The first week post-op was hell.

You were home, in bed, with ice packs and elevated pillows. You needed help getting to the bathroom. Showering was an ordeal. Your muscles started to atrophy from inactivity. And the pain meds blurred time, made you nauseous, and still couldn’t dull the throbbing in your leg completely.

There were days you wanted to scream.

There were nights you did.

Daniel became your anchor.

He helped wash your hair over the bathtub.

He made you laugh when you hadn’t smiled in days.

He never made you feel weak. Not once.

He treated your scars like they were battle honors.

-

Week two: physical therapy began.

The first time they asked you to try to bend your leg past 30 degrees, it felt like fire tearing through your skin. You cried through the whole session. Not just from the pain, but the helplessness. Your body felt foreign—like it had betrayed you.

Daniel drove you to every appointment. Sat outside every room.

When you came out with tear-stained cheeks, he didn’t say, “you’ll be okay.”

He just wrapped his arms around you and said, “I’ve got you.”

The months dragged.

You went from two crutches to one. From one to a cane. Then, eventually, no cane—but a deep limp remained. And so did the brace. The pain had dulled, but the fear hadn’t.

Physical therapy became your battlefield.

You’d leave soaked in sweat, eyes red, muscles screaming.

And Daniel?

He brought protein shakes and fresh towels.

Cheered every half-inch of motion gained.

Turned your tiny victories into full-blown celebrations.

You laughed one day when he made a “Level 1 Knee Boss” certificate out of printer paper and glitter glue.

“Don’t make me cry,” you’d warned.

“You already did at 90 degrees flexion last week,” he teased.

-

Month four: you stood on your own again.

Your quad was still weak, your knee swollen and scarred, but you walked into the kitchen without limping for the first time since the crash.

Daniel was chopping onions. He turned. Dropped the knife.

“You’re not limping.”

“I know,” you whispered, eyes filling.

He crossed the room in two steps, arms pulling you in so tight you forgot what hurt.

“God, I’m so proud of you.”

-

Month five: you went to the garage.

Not to ride—just to look. Your bike sat under a dust cover, untouched. You stood in front of it for a long time. Daniel came in quietly, leaned against the doorframe.

“She misses you,” he said gently.

You swallowed. “What if I’m not her anymore?”

He stepped behind you, arms slipping around your waist.

“You’re not,” he said. “You’re stronger.”

-

Month six: your physical therapist cleared you for trial rides.

“Flat trails. Paved roads. No impact,” she warned.

It didn’t matter. You didn’t hear that part.

You heard: You can ride again.

You stood in the garage that night with Daniel, both of you looking at your gear. You ran your fingers over the scuffed helmet, the worn gloves.

And for the first time since the crash, you said:

“I want to try.”

-

Your first ride back was slow. Deliberate.

Every twist of the throttle was cautious. Every bump felt like a risk. But as the tires rolled beneath you, something inside you unlocked. It wasn’t speed. It wasn’t the thrill. It was freedom.

Daniel rode beside you. Never too far. Every time you looked over at him, he was already watching you.

When you stopped on a flat, open stretch of trail, he pulled off his helmet and grinned.

“You did it,” he breathed.

You took your helmet off and laughed—really laughed—for the first time in months.

“I did,” you whispered.

Then, suddenly overwhelmed, you broke. Tears spilled over your cheeks. Not from fear this time—but from release.

Daniel was off his bike in seconds, pulling you into his arms. You buried your face in his neck, sobbing quietly.

“I didn’t think I’d make it back.”

“You did more than make it back,” he whispered, holding you tighter. “You climbed your way out of hell, and you did it with your own strength. You didn’t just come back—you fought back.”

That night, back home, Daniel carried you to bed—your muscles still sore from the ride, your heart still pounding with something fierce and proud.

He kissed every inch of your scars, murmuring, “you’re so damn strong,” like a prayer.

And when he curled his body around yours, one hand resting gently on your knee, you knew—

This wasn’t just a recovery.

It was a rebirth.

-

You were getting better.

That’s what Daniel kept saying, over and over — but you felt it. Every ride was more fluid, every corner a little sharper. The jumps, once terrifying, were now just part of the rhythm. There were days when you could almost forget about the injury, the surgeries, the months of pain. It all blurred into the background, pushed aside by the feeling of the bike under you, the rush of wind, and Daniel’s voice guiding you with calm encouragement.

He had a way of being there without being overbearing. Just close enough, a shadow in your periphery, making sure you never felt alone, but also giving you the space to push yourself.

“You’re doing it,” he’d say after a particularly good run, eyes gleaming. “You’re back.”

“I never left,” you’d joke, laughing even though you knew it was more true than you let on.

Daniel had made it all possible.

He was your rock — steady, present, always looking out for you. And in return, you began to trust yourself again. More than that, you started to believe in the future again. A future where you didn’t have to hide from your past. A future with him by your side, building something together.

-

The plan was simple, and for the first time in a long time, it felt right.

It wasn’t about fame or fortune anymore. It wasn’t about what anyone else thought or expected. It was about giving back, about using everything you’d learned from your own journey — the struggles, the setbacks — and passing it along to the next generation.

“What do you think about opening a school?” Daniel had asked one night, his voice low, the glow of the garage lights flickering on the bikes you two had spent hours tuning together.

You hadn’t even hesitated. You saw the spark in his eyes, the same one that had always been there when he talked about his own racing dreams. But this was different. This wasn’t about his own success — it was about others.

“You mean… a motocross school? For kids?”

“Yeah,” he said, his hands brushing dirt off the seat of a bike as he thought it through. “Maybe a bit more than just teaching them how to ride. We could help with the mental side of it too. I mean, motocross is so much more than just the physical stuff, you know? The mindset, the confidence…”

You could see it all unfolding in your head. A school where kids could come, learn, and grow. Not just to race, but to find the courage to fall and rise again. The thought of giving kids that gift made your heart swell.

“I love it,” you said, your voice full of conviction. “We could help them build confidence, teach them how to ride safely. Teach them how to fall safely.”

Daniel’s eyes softened, the same quiet intensity that you’d fallen in love with flickering in his gaze. “Exactly. And we could start small — just a couple of kids here and there, make it personal.”

There was no doubt in your mind that this was it — this was what you were supposed to do next. Your heart felt lighter, like you were finally moving toward something you both truly wanted.

For weeks, you looked at properties, called contractors, scoured through old, dusty racing journals for inspiration. The dream was taking shape, piece by piece.

But life has a way of throwing curveballs when you least expect it.

The phone call came on a Saturday afternoon.

It was just after lunch, when you and Daniel had spent the last hour going over plans for the track and finalizing paperwork. The sun was high, casting golden light across the kitchen, and Daniel was laughing at a joke you’d told — some silly quip about a racing helmet.

You were smiling, enjoying the quiet. It felt like your life was settling into something wonderful, something normal.

And then the phone rang.

You didn’t know who it was at first, just a number you didn’t recognize. Daniel’s brow furrowed when he glanced at the caller ID, but he didn’t seem worried. Just curious.

He picked it up, his tone light. “Hello?”

You went back to your notes, not paying attention. But then you heard it. The change in his voice.

His words slowed, and you saw his face shift, eyes narrowing, like he was trying to process something. You looked up, wondering why he suddenly seemed so… distant.

“…Yes, this is Daniel Ricciardo… Yes, I’m available….”

It hit you then, the unmistakable weight of what he was hearing. The F1 team. Cadillac. The newest on the grid.

You froze.

Daniel’s gaze met yours, and the slight panic in his eyes caught you off guard. You stood up, making your way toward him, but he held up a hand, signaling for you to wait. His expression was unreadable, the conversation on the other end of the line taking over his attention.

You didn’t know what was being said, but you knew. You could feel the pressure building in his chest. The weight of a decision he hadn’t expected. The F1 team had been interested in him before, but it had been months since he’d heard from anyone. The idea of racing again, of returning to the sport he once loved, had always been a distant thought. After everything with the crash and the way his career ended, he hadn’t wanted to go back to that life. It had felt like closing a chapter that had ended too soon.

But now? The team was offering him a seat.

Your mind raced. This wasn’t what you’d expected — you hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected him to have this choice again. Not when you were building a life here. Not when you were planning a future with him. Not when he’d found peace in the life you shared together.

When he hung up the phone, he stood there for a moment, silent. You could see it in his face — the internal battle playing out in front of you. The longing for the life he left behind. The fear of what would happen if he went back. And yet, the desire to close the chapter the way he’d always wanted — on his terms.

“Are you okay?” you asked gently, your voice steady.

He didn’t look at you right away, his hands gripping the edge of the counter. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice low. “I don’t know if I should do it. Part of me wants to say yes, but… part of me is happy with where we are. I’m happy with you.”

You crossed the room and stood beside him, your hand finding his. “Daniel, I want you to make the choice that makes you happy. If this is what you want, then I’ll support you. But you’ve always said you wanted to close that chapter with dignity, on your terms. Whatever you choose, I’ll be with you.”

He turned to face you then, his eyes full of uncertainty. “But what if it pulls me away from you? From us?”

You smiled softly, squeezing his hand. “We’ll find a way. You’ll find a way. I’ve always told you, Daniel — I’ll follow you wherever you go. You’re not alone in this, okay? Just close that chapter the way you’ve always dreamed. With pride. With dignity.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You could see the weight lift from his shoulders, just a little. The choice was his. And no matter what, you’d support him.

“I’ve always loved you, you know that?” Daniel said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“I know,” you whispered back. “And I love you.”

The decision was coming. But for now, you were here. Together. You’d face whatever came next — one step at a time, side by side.

[star-girl-05]

Married Woman

Gregory House x Reader

~★~❤︎~✦~

“Veryyy, if she doesn’t get her afternoon quickie she gets all pent up and then her husband calls me to complain”

Cameron impatiently tapped her foot against the tile, file in hand as she waited for House. She had called him 30 minutes ago and he was still not here. She's pulling out her phone to call him when she spots him just outside the front doors. He’s not alone though standing next to him is a woman. Her arm looped through his, a smile on both your faces. Cameron stood stunned, file completely forgotten as she stared at the two. She watched as the unfamiliar woman leans up and presses a deep kiss against his lips. Cameron cringes, nose scrunching up in disgust. She moves to turn away but her eyes catch the ring shining brightly on the woman's hand. She’s married. House is kissing a married woman.  

She couldn’t believe her eyes, she never thought House was the kind to have an affair. She didn’t even know he was seeing anyone. “Better be a good one”, House calls, grabbing the long forgotten file in her hands. For now her thoughts of the woman are put on hold, as she follows House to the elevator explaining the case as they go. 

The next time Cameron brings up the woman is when they’re giving their patient an MRI. “I saw House kissing a woman this morning, she had a ring on.” Chase is the first to react quickly, turning his chair to face her. 

“Are you kidding?” 

 “House kissing a married woman doesn’t surprise me, what does is the fact you haven’t lectured him about it.” Foreman adds not bothering to look away from the screen. 

“I was going to talk to Wilson first”, she just needed a chance to get away. Luckily Chase said he’d cover for her, as long as she filled him in later. 

As soon as she opens Wilsons office door he greets her with a soft smile. “What can I do for you Cameron?” he cheerily asks. 

“I wanted to ask you about House, I saw him with a woman this morning and wanted to know if you knew her?” She gave a brief description of the woman, leaving out the bit about the ring on her finger. 

“I’m guessing you haven’t brought this up to House,” he pauses, looking at her for confirmation. “Well I’ll make sure to give him the ‘talk’ once I finish this paperwork” Cameron gave him an exasperated face.

“She’s married” she adds hoping to get a different reaction. 

“Well if you're so worried you should talk to him yourself” that makes Cameron roll her eyes. If Wilson isn’t going to say anything Cameron would just confront him herself. 

Its an hour later when Cameron makes her way to his office. Having practiced just what she was going to say, her steps faltered however when she caught sight of House's office. Leaning on his desk was the woman from before. She stood there for a moment watching the two of you interact. She couldn’t see your face but House was smiling, a real smile that she had never seen before. It made her heartache, seeing him so happy with some that wasn’t her. 

She watched for a moment longer, losing her nerve slightly, but she didn't give up. No this was about right and wrong not about the pain in her chest. House was smiling at a married woman. He had to know how wrong this relationship was and if he didn’t know now she would make sure he soon did. 

They went silent as Cameron pushed open the door, both turning towards her. This was the first good look she had of the woman, she was pretty. “Yes?” 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to interrupt, Hi I’m Allison and you are?” she holds out her hand to the woman. 

*****

It’s been a while since you’ve been in Houses office, or even just the hospital. So when House randomly texted you to join him for lunch you knew he was up to something. That was furthered proofed when House greeted you with a familiar mischieves smile. “There you are,”

“Here I am,” you do a twirl a large smil eon your face, even if he does have alterative motives your happy to see him. “Now care to tell me what your up to” you plop down on the cornor of his desk. 

“You always asume I’m up to something”

“Because you are” you quickly interject.

“Well Wilson informed me Cameron talked to him about our kiss this morning,” Seeing your confused look House adds “She wanted to know if he knew I was seeing a married woman.” Your laughing, a large smile forming on both your faces. 

“Poor girl, how are you planning to correct her?” Before he has a chance to answer his door opens and Cameron comes marching in. You find yourself wanting to laugh again as she sticks her hand out to you full of confidence as she stares you down. Instead of laughing you shake her hand giving her your first name only. She stares at you for a moment longer evaluating you. 

“Did you need something?” you question all while House sits back a large smile on his face. 

“I just wanted to inform House on are patient, but I can see the two of you are busy”, she looked between of you lingering on House. You were more focused on her even though she apoligished and excused herself she didn’t move. She was waited for Houses' cue, a fact you didn’t like. 

“Veryyy, if she doesn’t get her afternoon quickie she gets all pent up and then her husband calls me to complain” you smack his arm as he finishes, though theres still a fond smile on your lips. What can you say you love him. All while Cameron stares even more confused than before. Neither of you pay her any mind passing her to go destress. 

Camerons still standing there when Wilson pushes open the office door. Seeing Cameron so deject made him crack, “House is her husband,” Cameron fully turns toward him face full of shock. She had not even once considered this a possibility. House was married, to a woman. Wilson leaves her in her shocked state, house is not going to be happy he spilled the secret.

[yailtsv]

I can’t do this again - p.b & a.f

💌 Syn: Blakely gets injured in a game vs the Sun during her first season of playing in the wnba

»»— warnings: serious injury, pain, sadness, ect…

»»— notes: i hate pain so i could not go into detail on the injury no matter how hard i tried 😭

»»— word count: 1.8k

»»— pair: pazzi x gf!oc || Blakely Doe

blakely’s now been in the WNBA for about a month now, and it’s been amazing! she’s finally living out her childhood dream and she couldn’t be more excited.

today the phoenix mercury has a game against connecticut sun, which she’s also excited for because she has a feeling she’ll be able to reconnect with the uconn girls and her girlfriend azzi.

the game doesn’t start until 5 so it’s just been long practices all day, blakely has also been talking to azzi and paige in her free time with their group chat

azzi hasn’t specified if the uconn girls were coming but she also hasn’t been secretive - just throwing hints that the uconn wbb team will be there, so blakely’s pretty excited to be reunited with them

paige obviously, very sadly, can’t be there as she’s also in the wnba now and has a game against seattle tomorrow, so she won’t be there for the reunion or the girlfriend reunion. that’s just something the three of them have to get used to now, there will always be one missing from their reunions unless someone’s in off-season.

“yo! doe! get in the locker room!” griner yells from across the court to blakely who was just standing still, texting the group chat between the three girlfriends

blakely looked up from her phone, seeing bg was waving her over, making blakely quickly send her message before running towards where brittney was standing

“texting your girlfriends?” she said in a teasing tone making blakely shake her head amused before looking up at bg “shush! i don’t bother you when your texting your wife.”

“well that’s because i’m your vet, your my rookie so i get to tease you and make fun of you all i want” griner says with a smile on her face, before blakely could say anything they reached the locker room door, with brittney pushing blake in.

“found her! she was still on the court texting her little girlfriends” bg snitches to all the girls on the mercury - all of them starting to get up and tease blakely.

3:06

that’s how much time was left in the second quarter, that’s when blakely went down screaming in pain.

blakely had been passed the ball and had jumped up to shoot a mid-jumper, while another player jumped late trying to block it, making her fall hard into blake, awkwardly - both of their bodies colliding, and twisting in a awkward way once on the ground

as soon as they collided blakely felt a burning pain in her left knee, swore she could hear her knee pop.

blakely knew what happened, she didn’t need a MRI to confirm that. she tore her ACL.

all blakely could focus on was the burning pain, that pain only got worse when someone reached out to touch it “don’t touch it! don’t touch it!” blakely yelled out, opening her tearful eyes to see that it was diana trying to tell the extent to the injury.

“ok, ok, shh, it’s ok alright? your gonna be ok.” diana tried to comfort while the rest of the team circled around blakely with towels at their feet so the camera men couldn’t record any of this more than they already have.

while diana was talking to blakely trying to get her to calm down some before she could help blakely stand - blakely was just in her head and crying, knowing the extent to this injury, knowing that this could very well be career ending - and if it’s not? recovery’s gonna be hell. she’s been through this already.

“hey- blakely” diana says trying to get blakely’s attention, blakely only turns her head to look at diana with tears still streaming down her face “we need to get you off the court, how bad does it hurt?” diana says still trying to make out how serious the injury is

“i tore my acl. i know i did.” blakely mumbles out tearfully - diana knows blakely full heartedly believes that from the look on her face, making diana be way more serious about this situation + the cameras, blakely has experience with acl injury’s so diana’s gonna take her word for it.

in fact - the whole team still standing around them all become more serious about protecting blakely and her injury from the media

tasha moved into the circle, with the others quickly closing the gap. diana and tasha both move to help blakely stand up, letting her put her weight on them “alright put your head down and lean all your weight on us.” tasha says while adjusting blakely’s arm that’s over her shoulder - tasha and diana both making sure they have a firm grip on blakely’s wrists and waist before they even think about leaving the circle.

once blakely nods that she’s ready bg and rebecca are the first ones to separate the circle, making a gap were the three of them could leave out of

tasha and diana do the leading while blakely’s hopping on her non injured leg, making it across the court and into the tunnel leading to the locker room, all while the fans in the arena were clapping for her, only stopping after a few minutes of blakely being in the locker room

what blakely didn’t see because of her keeping her head down was the uconn wbb team standing from their seats looking concerned, azzi especially. she knows what blakely’s injury is, she’s lived it. the way blakely’s screams of pain were heard so clearly, because of how quiet everyone went when they saw the whole thing going down, that’s when azzi knew what her injury was.

she could hear blakely telling whoever not to touch her knee, she could hear blakely sobbing in pain - wanting to just run down to the court and hold blakely in her arms, telling her that she’ll get through this, she could hear everything - so could everyone else.

not even a minute after blakely went down paige immediately was calling azzi - having been watching the game on her ipad in the seattle hotel, but azzi couldn’t tell her much as she was in shock at all this, paige stayed on the phone the whole time, the microphone picking up on some of blakely’s sobs and screams - making paige’s heart twist, wishing she could be there to comfort blakely.

“diana and tash just escorted her off the court. she wasn’t putting any pressure on her left leg.” azzi mumbled into the phone

“what do you think the injury is?” paige asked nervously not wanting to hear a certain injury come out of azzi’s mouth

“ACL tear-“ azzi starts making paige sigh into the phone sadly “i was hoping you wouldn’t say that.”

“with the way she went down and twisted, her screams, not letting anyone touch her knee, not walking at all on her left leg, i can’t see it not being a ACL tear.”

“after this game tomorrow imma fly to connecticut, swear.” paige responded through the phone, wanting to be with her girls right now

“you don’t have to p, she’s probably gonna be going back to phoenix.”

“once they confirm it’s an ACL tear, tell her to do the surgery in hartford and then she’ll have a few recovery days or weeks in ct before she has to fly back to phoenix. i wanna see my girls and after tomorrow i’ll have a few days with no games”

“we wanna see you too p. i’m gonna call you back in a second, diana and tash just walked back out, i’m gonna go ask if they know anything.”

“alright. i love you.”

“i love you too.”

blakely was right, it was an ACL tear, and she’s having a hard time swallowing that pill.

once she got to the locker room and was looked over by the medical staff, they decided she needed to get it checked out by a doctor, so while the game was still going on in the background - blakely was being helped into a car so that she could be taken to the hospital.

azzi and the uconn team even found out blakely was being taken to the hospital somehow, so they all left their seats and made there way to their cars to meet up with blakely there.

on our way to the hospital, i’ll let you know what we find out.

when the team got to the hospital, they were told to wait in the waiting room as blakely was getting checked out.

“fan incoming” kk whispered to everyone letting them know that there is a group of girls walking over - already recording from the looks of it

“oh my god hi, i’m a big fan! can we get a picture with you guys?” one of them said

the team all looked at each other before standing up for the picture “just one ok?” azzi said making the group of teenagers look at each other as they were wanting to take separate team pictures, but they nodded along seeing as they were in a hospital.

once the girls left, literally 3 minutes later the doctor came out asking for blakely’s family - all of them standing up

“blakely has torn her ACL, we are giving her some crutches until she can have her surgery. you can take her home whenever.”

the team all said some sort of thank you before all going to the room that he said blakely was in before he left.

ACL tear is confirmed. taking her to the dorms now, i convinced her to get the surgery here and talked to her coaches already.

paige sighed when she got that text from azzi, she knew there was a high possibility that blake’s injury was that, but she didn’t want to believe it.

and now that it’s confirmed, she has no choice but to believe it. her and blakely were doing things in the wnba! they were both being talked about for rookie of the year, they were both achieving accomplishments, THEY were doing things, and now? blakely’s out for the rest of her rookie season. a season that she’ll never get back. yeah you have your second season, your fourth season, hell even your 16th season, but your first season is your first season.

your first season and your last season are special because it’s your starting point and finishing point of your career - two seasons that are so important that you’ll never get them back. and now blakely will never be able to finish her first ever wnba season.

paige is sad for blakely. paige knows how she’s feeling, azzi knows how she’s feeling, and blakely? she’s taking this news worse than she did the last time she tore her ACL.

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03 @ldapper

[chellz22-blog]

Have you ever heard of MOGAD before? No? Neither had I. According to Google, 1-3 people of 1,000,000 are diagnosed with MOGAD each year, with no known statistics for seronegative MOGAD.

I have been suffering for years. Silently struggling with symptoms that sounded ridiculous and with no answers that led me feeling ashamed and depressed because when you are constantly 'sick' and going to hospital and from doctor to doctor, only to be told your suffering mirgrains, well no one is going to take you seriously. My headaches were severely disabling. I was popping nuerofen like malteasers, feeling sick, loosing my vision, my balance and what felt like my mind. I couldn't keep a job because I was so unreliable due to my symptoms. I was always tired and angry which of coarse affected those around me. Especially my kids. Things got seriously bad in December of 2024. I needed to hold onto my kids to cross a road, or do a food shop. I was falling over, I was loosing feeling in my left arm and leg. By Feb 2024, I was rushed to boxhill hospital under a stroke code. I wasn't having a stroke. I was diagnosed 3 days later after finally receiving a MRI with Multiple sclerosis.

I spent weeks at a time in and out of hospital due to my symptoms flaring back up constantly. I was the diagnosed with MOGAD, then further seronegative MOGAD.

MOGAD (myelin oligodendrocyte glycoprotein antibody associated disease) is an autoimmune condition where your immune system attacks proteins in the protective cover around your nerves (myelin). It causes symptoms that affect your eyes, brain and spinal cord, like vision loss, confusion and muscle weakness.

I myself suffer from seronegative MOGAD which means despite having clinical and radiological features consistent with MOGAD, I test negative for MOG antibodies.

If your not confused by all of this, I take my hat off to you, because I'm still extremely confused as to what it all means. I just know that this is slowly but surely taking my life from me.

My name is Michelle (Chell) and I'm from a small country town in rural Victoria. I'm the youngest of 4 children with 3 older brothers.

I'm 36years old with 3 beautiful children, my oldest is 14, and I have 2 sons who are 8 and 9. I'm honestly blessed as my children are hands down beautiful, kind and well behaved kids. Every day I live for them. In October of 2024, I was lucky enough to meet the love of my life and despite my health issues and being a single mum of 3 kids, he took us all in with open arms. He drives me to and from every medical appointment and hospital visit. He cares for me and my kids better than I've ever known.

I have always loved writing and decided I would try write a blog about my condition and struggles. If I can encourage just 1 person who has any symptoms similar to mine to push your doctor to get you into that MRI machine, then in my eyes that's a success.

I encourage questions and will write again explaining my symptoms in a little more depth soon.

Please feel free to leave a comment or even email me.. mxchel22@hotmail.com

For more info check out MS Australia's website https://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&opi=89978449&url=https://www.msaustralia.org.au/&ved=2ahUKEwi1vd-9uMOMAxXbdvUHHc7PEl8QFnoECAwQAQ&usg=AOvVaw1KfxYaUSM5M1G-9V2eLdlS

Much love, Chell xx

[dckweed]

ROSIE!, alpha!simon riley x omega reader

in which captain price sends alpha simon on a much needed vacation to his secluded countryside cabin, but leaves out a most important detail- he has a live in omega caretaker to care for his little cabin when he’s away! and she’s the prettiest, sweetest little thing that simon ever did see..

warnings: alpha/omega universe, mentions/depictions of abuse, smut, pregnancy, kind of forced proximity?, ill add as i go...please note that i know NOTHING about COD but i am in love with the 141 guys and this has been rotting in my brain. no slutty scenes this one, soft simon, PTSD flashbacks/hallucinations mentioned, panic attacks, mental health issues are heavy in this one pookies, as well as mentions of abuse/attempted murder. SIMON SAYS THE L WORD !!!!

oh my loves its been too long! i wanted this one to be so much longer (we were supposed to meet johnny in this one originally), but due to my hand injury i can't type for long periods of time (really can't go more than fifteen minutes) on my phone or on my laptop, i am unfortunately not making any progress in healing (im losing range of motion, lots of tingling and swelling and pain still unfortunately..ortho wants to do an mri & shit now because this was supposed to be healed by 6 weeks nd its been MUCH longer than that)..also i recently went on my first ever vacation..i also went to my first bar/nightclub while on vacation and it was nuts!! how have you guys been? what are our thoughts on this chap?? what do we think will happen next??? what are your hopes and dreams for rosie & si, i love hearing yalls input !!

series masterlist here, series playlist coming soon!

CHAPTER SIX: the life i lived before 

it was a long, quiet process to clean up all of the mess you’d made. Silently you knelt next to him, knees still bloodied as you picked up all the bits of glass that were too big to be swept, kept close to him, letting the warmth of his body and his safety wash over you and your wolf, let it soothe you from the outside in. 

He didn’t ask questions at first, didn’t try to stop you from helping either, handed you the trash bin so you wouldn’t have to walk across the floor, handed you the broom and dust pan. Helped you up off the ground when he saw how shaky your legs and arms were, a kiss to the crown of your head as he pulled you against him. Your body sags with his arms around you, like it finally stopped being on edge, finally recognized the safety you had. 

For what it’s worth, he takes the liberty of opening the basement door and picking up the laundry basket, you hear his heavy footsteps clamber down the rickety old stairs as he goes, hear him muttering to himself but you dont hear what he says, can’t make out the words over the sound of the washing machine starting, of the lid on the top loader slamming. It makes you jump, the dust pan clattering from your hands as you dump it in the bin. 

“alrigh’ Lovie?” You hear him call softly, footsteps coming back up the stairs, gentler than when they went down, but in less of a hurry, less frustrated. 

You’re just bending over to pick it up when you see the top of his head cresting the stairs. “Ye-yeah..just dropped it..” You muster the words, heart thudding in your chest still, but calmed enough that it doesn’t hurt anymore. “Simon..” He’s at the top of the stairs now, hands on his hips as he surveys the mess that’s left, your blood streaked on the hardwood, grunts at his name leaving your lips, eyes slowly meeting yours. 

“I’m…I’m sorry you had to see that.” His eyebrows knit together in that way they do when he’s trying to figure something out, tongue pushes against his cheek like he’s trying to think of words to say. You think he looks upset, but you can’t tell if it’s at you or if it’s at the mess you made. “I..that..it hasn’t happened in a long, long time..i-i won’t let it happen again.” You can’t even look at him, eyes dropped to the floor by his feet, cowering in on yourself again, tensing like you’re expecting him to say something mean. You deserve it. You think. What kind of idiot does that? 

He lets a long breath go through his nose, opens his mouth like he’s finally found the words he was looking for. “Let’s get you cleaned up, lovie..” His voice is gentle, calm as it washes over you. No hint of anger or frustration that you’re used to when you mess up or do stupid things. “Nasty business getting all that glass out of you..up you go, babygirl..” He’s across the kitchen before you know it, three long strides and suddenly he’s got his hands crooked under your armpits, lifting you with such ease and setting you up on the top of the island, legs spread as he notches himself between them. 

You grip the front of his shirt almost instinctively, fisting it tightly as you look up at him, mouth parted and eyes wide, still shocked that he can lift you like that, shocked that he’s being so nice and sweet to you still. You’re going to ask him a question, ask him why, but before you can get the words formed on your tongue, his hand is gripping your chin, forcing you to look at him, brown eyes looking fierce. 

His tongue darts out, licks his lips before he speaks, voice gruff and thick. “Do not ever apologize to me for something that you can’t control, d’ya hear me?” You nod as much as his grip will let you, fingers holding your jaw too tight to let you speak. “I don’t know what that was, don’t know what was going through that pretty little head o’yours but I know that whatever it is, I don’t like it. My job is to protect you, to keep you safe, even from things I can’t see, I need you to let me in..I..even if it hurts me to hear, I need to be able to help you, ri’ lovie? Tha’s my job as your Alpha, innit?” 

Another nod, more tears forming in your eyes now. His words are too sweet, too good to be true that voice in the back of your head whispers. She over talks it though. He needs to know, little one.

She’s not wrong. He does need to know, you’re not stupid enough to think that you can go on like everything is normal after a scene like that. After you went absolutely deranged. 

“I’m not asking you to tell me right now, but..someday, soon, I need you to, okay?” He kisses your forehead, lingers, one hand pressing the back of your head foreword, burying your face in his chest. “..scared me, lovie..didn’t know what the hell to do, or what was happening..but, I got you, yeah? Always got you..” 

“I know..” You whisper, wrapping your arms around him, and for the first time ever in your life, you feel safe. You feel loved. Because of him, because of this big rough man that wants to fight your demons, because he let you feel vulnerable and weak with him. Because he doesn’t see just an useless, spineless omega  or a cunt to breed, because he sees his sweet Rosie, his mate, the only one whose ever carried his mark, the only belly he’s ever tried to put one of his pups in..the only person who he’s ever felt the need to kill on sight for, the need to protect at all costs, to love and provide for.. “I know..” 

Another kiss to your forehead as he pulls away, taking a step back. “Don’t you fuckin move, yeah? I’ll be right back.” He practically runs up the stairs, you hear his heavy steps thudding down the upstairs hallway, hear the bathroom door open, the cabinets slam..he comes back just a couple minutes later with a first aid kit gathered from random supplies. “Good girl..” He practically growls, setting the kit down beside you, kneeling down to the kitchen floor. 

Your feet dangled, brushing against his shoulders with him crouched down that low, toes wiggling as you kicked them back and forth absentmindedly. He tears open a couple of packets, brown eyes looking up into yours, your heart catching in your throat when you see the metallic glint of a sewing needle and a pair of tweezers. “Gonna hurt a bit babygirl, promise i’m not doin’ it on purpose, lovie..” He presses a kiss to one of your ankle as he lifts the foot up to rest on his shoulders, then one to the inside of your bloodied knee, lip getting caught on one of the shards of glass still stuck in it. 

“You’re bleeding..” You whisper, watching him with wide, worried eyes. It pools on his upper lip, one big dark bead of crimson before it drops down to his plump bottom lip, staining the pink of the skin that dark red, you watch it travel down more, rolling down the stubble starting on his chin, down down down past the little scar that sits there until you lift your other leg without thinking, rubbing your polished big toe against the bottom of his chin, catching the bead of blood before it could roll off completely and splatter on the ground. 

His eyes are on you the whole time, pupils dark and blown wide. You feel his warm lips on your foot, kissing it..then..feel the wet heat of his spongy tongue running along the side of your toe where the blood had dribbled, eyes never leaving yours. Your breath catches, your pussy clenches and your heart lurches.. “Simon?” 

He hums, licking his lips, smearing the red with his tongue. “S’no use havin’ my spilled blood marring your pretty skin, lovie..” His big hand cups the leg thats propped up on his shoulder, the other coming up, glinting with the tweezers in them. “I’d rather my lips be cut up and bloody over your knees any day..s’shame watchin’ you bleed out like this, all that pretty red of your life gettin’ everywhere..s’okay though, babygirl, i’ll fix it for you.” 

He’s so gentle with the way he does it, humming some tune under his breath as he works the tiny bits of glass out of your knee & shin. Murmuring about how good you’re doing, whispering that he loves you against your still stained skin. It makes your heart melt, your tummy flutters..it felt like you had the whole goddamn zoo running around inside of you watching him like this, on his knees before you, so soft and so gentle when you knew that wasn’t his nature. 

You weren’t exactly sure when you decided to start talking about it, but somehow, it slipped out..and when it started, well, it just kept going. “I was the only omega..” You whispered, voice thick with the emotions, face scrunched as if it hurt to say. You hissed when he pulled out a particularly sharp piece, the air hitting the open wound. He mutters an apology, looks up at you like he wants you to continue. “All of my siblings..they were all..alpha’s, i think two of them were beta’s..I was never allowed to interact with them much, you know? He..he kept me separate from them, always said i would taint them with my weakness, that I didn’t deserve to be in the presence of such strength, perfection..” 

He snorts, his eyebrows furrowed in that way they did when he was frustrated with something, trying to figure something out but it was proving to be more and more complex..you’d seen him stare at the crossword in the newspaper like that the other day..at the garbage disposal when it stopped working and backed the whole sink up. He worked his fingers though, taking out shard after shard, steady. 

You kept speaking. “I killed my mama.” He looks up at you then, nearly drops the tweezers. 

“Baby-” You cut him off with a shake of your head, bite your lip. 

“I..i know I didn’t actually kill her, Si,” You whisper, a sniffle escaping you. “But, I spent every day of my life until John found me being told that I did..that my existence was the reason she was dead, because she took her last breath while I took my first.” The look on his face is one of pain, like it hurt him to hear you say that. You thought it was funny that it hurt him like that, when it had stopped hurting you so long ago and had simply become a fact. A truth that you lived with daily. “I..don’t know anything about her, you know? He never talked much about her except for reminding me that I was the reason she no longer existed. He wasn’t cruel to my siblings, so, I liked to imagine that he wasn’t cruel to her either, that he must have loved her in some way otherwise he wouldn’t have been so angry at me for existing while she doesnt, you know?” 

You whimper as he pours some rubbing alcohol over that first knee, finished pulling all the bits of glass out. He blows on it, cool breath soothing the burning. “Shh, baby..” He whispers, deep voice gruff. “Gonna need a couple of stitches on some of these, couple of shards were pretty deep..looks about the same on the other knee too..” 

You watch as he threads the needle with such steady hands, despite the shake you heard in his voice. “He kept me in the basement.” His hands still again, you stare at the basement door. “Kept me..as a glorified maid. Beat me black and blue whenever he had the chance, always reminding me that i exist because she didn’t and that he could never forgive me for that..” The noise he makes is concerning, but he doesn’t look up at you as he pushed the needle through your skin, doesn’t flinch when you cuss him out for a second. “I think he tried to kill me sometimes, you know? But my wolf..she was weak then, he never let me..let me you know..let her out..never..but she was always there” You  felt her soft embrace in the back of your mind as you spoke, couldn’t keep the smile off of your face. “I think she’s the only reason I survived. That, and John..”

“You know, i never touched grass before?” He drops the fucking needle at your words, just finished tying it off, pulling the thread with his teeth. 

“Whatdya mean, lovie, you go outside all the time..” Oh, you loved this big soft man, clueless as he was sometimes. 

“Yeah, because I’m allowed to now.” You whisper. “My dad..I wasn’t allowed out of the house. He told everybody that I died with her, I wasn’t supposed to exist to anyone but the people who lived in our home..” He kisses your knee, and when he looks up at you, you swear you see tears in those beautiful eyes of his. “He um..one of my last nights there..he..he had grabbed me by the back of my head, tore chunks of hair out after i had dropped a glass when he yelled at me, i dropped down to pick it up, but I wasn’t moving fast enough, even with half the bits stuck in my legs..he..he dragged me up off the ground and he tossed me down the basement stairs, broke some ribs, hit my head so hard that I blacked out and im pretty sure I had a concussion..”

“Baby-“ You cut him off with a shake of your head, not done just yet as he starts working on your other knee. 

“He left me down there for days, in and out of consciousness, door locked..no light..nobody came when i begged for help, for food, water..” Your voice wavers, and you have to look away from him, can’t bear to see the tears in his eyes. “My wolf, she kept me alive, nursed me from the inside out, even though she didn’t really have the strength..nearly killed herself in the process im sure..felt like my whole mind was ripping apart.” You remember the next part so vividly, like it had happened yesterday. “One day, my dad had John over, i still to this day don’t know what for..probably to try and marry off my older sister would be my guess, to make strong alpha babies for him..but..my wolf..she..she did something, was somehow able to catch his attention even locked in the basement..John..he carried me out of there, brought me here…”  You’re not sure how to tell him that your father tried to fight him, tried to tell him you were just the drunken maid. Don’t tell him that John damn near cried when he looked down those stairs at you crumpled in a heap. 

You don’t even feel the glass coming out anymore, barely register his fingers. “I wasn’t even a person when he saved me, Simon. I didn’t even have a name, didn’t know how to read or write..i still can barely do it sometimes..” You don’t think you have it in you to say anymore. “He..John was so kind to me, so gentle and sweet..if it wasn’t for him, i don’t think i’d be here today. I think I would have died in that basement.”He works so reverently, brow furrowed and eyes hard as he stares at your knee, fingers working quickly but gently. He doesn’t say anything for a long while, and for the most part you don’t expect him to, you don’t even think you want him to. That was a lot to dump on him, especially after putting him through the freak out that you did. It’s not until he’s tied off the thread in your other knee and kissed it with a gentleness that even you don’t expect from him that you hear his voice. “But you didn’t die, Rosie.” You see the tears in his eyes as he looks up at you from where he sat still at your feet, one big hand wrapped around one of your ankles, thumb rubbing against your skin soothingly. “You’re here now, and you’ll never be unsafe again..you’ll never not be loved, by me, or by John..we’re your family, lovie, and in our family we take care of each other, protect one another, even when we think we don’t need protecting, even when we think we don't deserve to be taken care of, because we love each other..I love you, Rosie..” 

taglist: @wise-owl @bingoz @astrxsee @gazsluckyhat @howlerwolfmax @thisbitch-6 @littlelovebug98 @ungodlydilf @madsothree @rosallels @brilliantbecca94 @jaxz21 @mk-kbtbb @silas-aeiou @kelbowmacaroni @kittygonap @eremika104 (i cant remember if you asked to be tagged in this series but im doing it anyway) @cherryblossomc0llective and if i forgot anyone, please comment down below!

[daisywrites101]

Dr. Robert Chase x GN!Reader

Request: hi!! hope you’re doing well :) i saw you were taking imagines for house requests… was wondering if you could do something with a gn!reader and chase. something fluffy and cute if possible, like chase realizing his feelings for his best friend (being reader) and him trying to figure out how to confess ^^ thank you! have a great day

A/N: I hope that this is what you wanted! I took your idea and just ran with it! I apologize that this took awhile to get out. Life has been crazy lately between school and just some personal things going on. Enjoy the story!

"You are so miserable." Foreman says out of nowhere. Chase looks over at him, clearly offended. "What are you talking about, Foreman?" Chase questions. "You clearly have feelings for L/N. Ever since they started here it's pretty obvious that you like her, and not just like a coworker type deal, and more than you liked Cameron, which says a lot." he says then looks down into the microscope.

Foreman wasn't wrong. Chase had hard feelings for you, when Cameron explained to Chase that their relationship wasn't passing friends with benefits, he moved on. Soon after that is when you started. Having a background in pediatrics and in pathology, House deemed you as necessary to his team. Chase and you had become close, becoming best friends quickly, and Chase falling for you even faster, and it became blatantly obvious to everyone around you that chase liked you, except for you, of course.

"I don't know what you are talking about. Y/N and I are simply friends, best friends even." Chase claims. "Whatever you say, Chase. But you're calling them by their first name, and not to mention that you care for them more than you did for Cameron when the two of you had the fling you had, makes it totally obvious to everyone around the two of you that you like them. I am surprised House has not said anything at this point." Foreman explains, and Chase knows that he is right. Chase has never cared for anyone like he cared for you. when he noticed that you were having on off day, he always would buy your favorite drink to help you feel better. He would spend time with you, both inside and outside of work. Whenever he got the chance he would pair up with you during cases, either sitting in with you while doing MRIs, or even just sitting in the lab running tests, just like Foreman and him were doing now. House allowed you to stay and monitor the patient, but he assigned Foreman and Chase to run the endless stream of labs. It made sense that you stay to monitor him, given your history in peds, but he wished that he was with you. You made him smile, no matter what you did. You made him feel warm inside, more than Cameron did when he was with her. He knew that he wanted to tell you how he was feeling, but he was not sure how.

"How would you suggest I go about telling them how I feel?" Chase asks Foreman. Foreman pulls away from his microscope, looking at Chase baffled. Chase keeps a straight face, letting Foreman know that he is serious. "Oh you're serious." Foreman states. "Um, yeah, I would like to think so." Chase adds. "Look, just plan something nice for them, or you can straight up just tell them." Foreman says to Chase, being blunt but also trying to give him some advice. Chase nods, thinking about what he could do. "Thanks Foreman." He says then goes back to running tests.

Over the next few days, the case ended and the patient ended up having a case of sarcoidosis, and they received treatment. You stand in front of the mirror in your apartment. Your shirt hanging loose on your shoulders, and the waist band of your sweats fitting loosely on your hips. You stand there wondering if you look okay, as Chase had invited you to his apartment for a movie night. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence, but you still felt a tad self-conscious. What if you were dressed too comfortably? Should you change into something that fits, rather than something that is a few sizes too big? The thoughts are in your head are interrupted by a knock at the door of your apartment. You look over your shoulder at the clock on your night stand and it read 7:30 pm. He was right on time as always. You look at yourself one last time in the mirror, fluff your hair to make it sit how you would like it to, turn the nearby light off and head to the door. you open it to see Chase standing there. When he sees your face, his lights up with a smile, causing your own smile to form on your face.

“You ready?” Chase simply asks, hair falling in his face when he tilts his head slightly. You simply nod and he moves to the side so you can leave your apartment. You step out and lock the door behind you after you close it. Chase walks you to his car, and he opens the door for you, you climb inside and get closes the door behind you. He walks over to the other side, climbs in the car himself, starts it, and then begins the drive to his place.

You arrived at Chase’s apartment and he walks through the door for you, so he is able to hold the door as you walk in. You slip your shoes off and walk into the living room. Your jaw drops when you see the sight in front of you. There is a large bowl filled with popcorn in the center of the coffee table in front of the large couch. There are also two glasses of wine, two more with water, and there are some of your favorite snacks on a platter. You walk further into the room and look around you in awe. There were fairy lights hung on the walls to make the lighting dimmer, and there were tons of pillows and blankets on the couch. You turn around and face Chase, and see him standing there with a bouquet of flowers. Chase was standing there sheepishly, looking extremely nervous, but happy all at the same time. He steps closer to you and holds out the flowers for you to take, which you do. "Y/N, I have wanted to tell you how I feel about you for a long time but could not find the way to do it.” Chase says then pauses for a moment. You’re so dumbfounded, and honestly can’t believe what you’re hearing. Robert Chase, the one who would tell you how he felt about Cameron, was now admitting that he loves you. “I put all of this together to show you just how I feel.” He comes over to you and takes your free hand in his. “I love you, Y/N. I have for a while now.” Chase finally finishes. You quickly press your lips to his, in a quick but gentle kiss, in which he reciprocates. You pull away with a smile. “I love you too, Robert.” You say and simply smile. “Now, how about we continue our plans for movie night?” You say with a smile.

For the rest of the night, you and Chase sit on his couch, the flowers he gave you lay on the table next to the now empty bowl of popcorn and glasses. The two of you are now asleep on the couch, your body curled into his while he has an arm around you protectively.

[theogonize]

PLEASE WRITE MORE FILTHY STUFF FOR GREGORY HOUSE!!!!!

Need to sit on that old bastards lap while he calls me a dumb bitch and tells me i dont have lupus nor sarcoidosis

ahshsbjhamsf he's so hot and mean and evil fuckkk i want him

you accidently suggest something like "oh it could sarcoidosis, the patient 's been sensitive to light for a while" and house just... berates you infront of everyone like okay dumb bitch who hired you. he's being sooo mean but it's misplaced anger because all you do is tease and tempt and drive him up the wall. he sends everyone away to do PTTs and MRIs because they take time. as soon as you attempt to walk out unscathed, he's like bup bup bup not you, whore. everyone leaves, genuinely scared for you, as if him telling you off seconds ago wasnt enough. they all give you a silent 'good luck' as they leave the room.

you follow him into his office. first thing he does is close the blinds and lock the door. you're standing abashed, biting your lip. he sits on his chair, readjusts for a second, manspreading. (he's the whore btw.) you don't even realise you're look directly at his lap, biting down harder on your lip. house notices, he always notices. he has that glimmer in his eyes, the one he has when he just knows something.

he says something about taking a seat or like coming close or something but you don't even care because as soon as he said 'sit' and 'my' and 'lap' in the same sentence your brain stopped producing thoughts instantly.

he's talking and talking and talking but you literally can't hear shit because the rasp in his voice as he calls you by your first name as his hands roam free on your body makes you feverish. he's calling you stupid, questioning your motives but all you're doing is wishing his hands would slip higher under your skirt. and what are you even gonna do? other than get damp, with sweat and... otherwise.

"you think i'll let you get away with being stupid?" his breath fans your ears, making you shudder. "you think i haven't noticed that you dont contribute anything these days. and when you do, it's this."

you gulp.

"i wonder what your cognitive degeneration has to do with the length of your skirt?" he feels the material on his finger tips. he sees you exhale shakily, a vermillion blush creeping on your cheeks and ears. that's answer enough. that's just what he wants. answers. or rather, a confirmation to what he already knows.

you can feel his boner growing beneath you. he hooks a finger around the hem, pulling it up and up and up till he's basically reached your hips. his other hand unbuttons just one button of your shirt. his tugs at it to expose your bare shoulders. his lips hover above them, you can feel it. a small please, house escapes your lips involuntarily.

his hands knead the flesh of your thighs.

"you're gonna have to do a lot better if you want to fuck me."