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pitlanepeach · 1 month ago

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Radio Silence | Chapter Thirty

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren’t quirks, they’re survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, time-skips, the absolute shit-show that was the first half of the 2023 season.

Notes — Amelia being McLaren's literal saviour? IKTR

2023 (Saudi Arabia — Silverstone)

The paddock in Bahrain had started to quiet down after qualifying, the desert heat finally slipping away into a cooler breeze. Amelia was walking through the paddock, steps quick and stride polished, muttering statistics under her breath and trying to burn off some extra energy before debriefs were due to begin.

“Amelia.”

She turned. Adrian stood just outside Red Bull’s motorhome, hands in his pockets, watching her with a thoughtful expression.

“Hi, Adrian,” she greeted, smiling politely at the man she’d once idolised who had become something more reminiscent of a friend over the last two years.

“Do you have a minute?” He asked.

She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Sure.”

He gestured for them to walk a little away from the thinning crowds. “I’ve been wanting to speak with you since testing, but I figured it was better in person rather than on the phone.”

Amelia waited, quiet.

Adrian glanced toward the Red Bull garage, then back at her. “You have done something incredible,” he said. “The car — it’s… brutally efficient. Elegant, even. It’s the cleanest thing I’ve seen come out of our CFD pipeline in five years. Maybe longer.”

Amelia’s brow ticked up. “Thank you.”

He studied her for a moment, brow furrowed slightly. “So why did you leave, Amelia? You could’ve ridden that thing straight through another championship with Max. Earned the credit. The spotlight. A long, solid legacy.”

“I didn’t need to,” she said simply.

He blinked, thrown off. “Didn’t need to… win?”

“I didn’t need credit,” she clarified. “That was never the point. Max knows that this years car is ours — mine and his, in a way. You know, too. That’s enough for me.”

“You designed one of the most dominant aero concepts I’ve seen in a decade,” Adrian said, still incredulous. “And walked away before it even hit the track?”

Amelia nodded. Shrugged. “I didn't build the car for glory. I built it because I knew what it could be. And then I gave my concepts to you, so that you would make them happen, and you did.” She pursed her lips. “Max didn’t need me anymore. He knows how to handle a championship. He’s done it twice, now.”

“And McLaren does need you?” Adrian pressed.

“Yes,” she said. Smiled. “They do. Oscar too.”

Adrian looked at her like he was trying to understand a language he didn’t speak. Slowly, he said, “You’ve created a car that will be remembered for generations.”

“I know.”

“And you don’t care that you won’t get the credit?”

“No,” she said. “Doesn’t change what I did.”

There was a long silence, the dusk settling over them in a soft hush.

Adrian let out a slow breath, almost reverent. “I admire it, you know. Even if I don’t understand it.”

Amelia gave him the faintest smirk. “That’s okay. I’m not an easy person to understand.”

“No,” Adrian agreed. “But you’re very, very good.” He paused. “God, sometimes, Amelia, I wonder if maybe you’re better than me.”

“I might be. One day,” she said, and turned to go.

—

The debrief room was quiet, too quiet.

Oscar sat back in his chair, legs outstretched, eyes on the floor. His race suit was half-unzipped, his undershirt sweat-darkened at the collar. Amelia sat at the head of the small conference table, her iPad flat in front of her, her stylus spinning slowly between her fingers.

“Well,” Oscar said dryly. “That was shit.”

Amelia’s lips twitched. “You’re not wrong.”

He tilted his head. “Can I ask something?”

“Of course you can.” She frowned at him.

Oscar looked over at her, brow creased faintly. “You knew the car wasn’t going to be good this year. You warned me. So why did you still come back to McLaren?”

Amelia leaned back in her chair, thought about it, then shrugged. “Well, you were a big part of it.”

Oscar blinked at her.

“You needed somebody who was able to make the most of a bad situation,” she said. “Not someone who’d write it off before the lights went out. You’re better than the car right now. But the car won’t stay this way forever; I promise you that.”

Oscar was quiet for a moment. “Right. Thanks,” he said eventually, voice low.

“Don’t get sentimental,” Amelia said, flicking a button on her iPad. “We’re both going to be angry for a while, at least until I can fix this.”

He nodded, some of the stiffness leaving his shoulders. “Fine by me.”

She tapped through to the race data, then looked up. “Okay. So. Let’s talk lap one.”

Oscar squinted. “What was wrong with lap one?”

“You braked late into Turn 10. Just like you did in qualifying.”

“Maybe the corner needs to come sooner,” he muttered, deadpan.

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Maybe you just need more time in the sim.”

Oscar made a face. “If I spend any more time in it than you already make me do, I might merge with the chair.”

They dove into the telemetry together then — back and forth, sharp and focused, their language slowly becoming shorthand. She pointed out throttle traces, he challenged her on strategy calls. She fired back with sector deltas, he offered precise corner feedback.

By the time they were done, an hour had passed.

Oscar leaned back, drained but calmer. “You’re intense.”

“Yeah,” Amelia said, unapologetically. “I’m also right, most of the time.”

He nodded. “Yeah. You are.”

She packed up her iPad, stood, and gestured toward the door. “Come on, ducky,” she said. “My husband is probably pacing somewhere, lamenting about how shit his car is. We need to stop him before he spirals.”

Oscar made a face as he got to his feet. “I don’t like being ducky.”

Amelia shrugged, unconcerned. “Too bad. You are.”

He sighed. “Why can’t I just be Oscar?”

“You can,” she said simply. “But you’re ducky too. Both can be true.”

Oscar blinked at her, clearly expecting more of an explanation. Amelia paused in the doorway, tilting her head like she was debating whether to explain. Then she did — bluntly, honestly, in her Amelia way. “Nicknames are… structure,” she said. “They help me sort people. Feelings. Connections. If I nickname you, it means I’ve decided I trust you. It’s like… mental shorthand. Emotional filing.”

Oscar’s brow furrowed. “Like… categories?”

“Exactly,” she said, eyes lighting up slightly. “It’s not random. It means something. I call you ducky because you’re calm on the surface and all chaos underneath, and also because you look like someone who would fall asleep in a bathtub. And because I like you. You’ve earned it.”

He stared at her. “I… don’t know what to do with that.”

“You don’t have to do anything with it,” she said, already halfway down the hall. “Just know that it means I’ve put you in the ‘safe’ column.”

Oscar followed, a little dazed. “That’s a lot to attach to a duck.”

Amelia smiled to herself. “Also, my husband kept saying that I imprinted on you like a mother duck, so…”

They rounded the corner and found said husband, Lando, in the corridor, muttering to himself with a piece of tyre compound data pulled up on his phone.

Oscar pointed wordlessly.

Amelia just sighed. “See? Spiralling. I told you.” She stepped forward, nudged the phone down, and gently took her husband’s hand. “Hey,” she said. “You did well with what you had.”

Lando looked between the two of them, Amelia’s steady face, Oscar’s unreadable one, and let out a breath that was mostly a laugh. “We’re going to be fucking shit this year, aren’t we?” He asked.

Amelia sighed. “I hope not. I’m already trying to get my hands on the car, but the cost cap is preventing me from making any significant changes this early…”

Lando pouted at his wife.

“Pizza?” Oscar asked.

Amelia’s head snapped around in his direction. “Yes!”

Lando was still pouting when he said, “Sure. Yeah. Whatever. Depression pizza. Yay!”

—

The glass walls of the office reflected the glow of early evening. Outside, the MTC lake was still, pale with late-winter. Inside, Amelia sat at the head of the table with her knees drawn up in the chair, a pink, battered notebook open in front of her.

Andrea leaned in to look closer. “You did this all by hand?”

Amelia didn’t look up. “I think better with a pen and paper.”

Her dad, seated opposite her, turned a few pages. His brows rose as he scanned carefully drawn schematics, annotated calculations, wind tunnel projections, notes in tiny, slanted handwriting. Everything from ride height tweaks to theoretical suspension layouts to predicted competitor development trends.

“This is a full concept,” Andrea said, quietly impressed. “This is… years worth of work.”

“Just a few weeks,” Amelia said. “That’s not just theory in there, though. That’s a car.”

Zak sat back, flipping to the final page. It was labelled, in block capitals, with an underlined title.

PROJECT: MCL38-AN

Underneath, in her neat writing.

It’ll win if you trust it.

He looked up. “This will put us back on top?”

“I know it will,” Amelia said, finally meeting their eyes. “Everything I’ve learned — from Red Bull, from Max, from every telemetry graph and CFD failure and stupid porpoising issue in the last two years — I used it all. And not just to make something clever. To make something fast. Reliable. Adaptable.”

Andrea gently closed the notebook. “This is championship-level ambition.”

“It’s more than ambition,” Amelia said. “It’s your 2024 car. The notebook is yours now.”

Her dad raised his eyebrows. “You don’t want to keep it?”

She shrugged. “No. I won’t need it, but you will. I’ve already made a million copies, but I’d like you to keep the original.”

Her dad looked at her and reached for the notebook again with something like reverence. “We’re going to need to start assembling a team around this immediately.” He said.

“I already started,” she told him. “Tom in aero’s got preliminary CFD models. Jordan’s been mocking up rear suspension geometry in CAD for two weeks.”

Andrea laughed softly, almost disbelieving. “You went over our heads?”

“I’m not very good at leaving things to chance,” she said. “And our car this year is awful. So bad. I needed to start making something happen, even if most of it will have to wait until next year.”

Her dad stood and leaned across the table, hand on the notebook. “Honey, this is…”

“Yours. Ours.” She said.

Andrea let out a breath.

Her dad stared at her for a beat, and then he was beaming.

—

It was nearly midnight, and the MTC was mostly dark — save for the soft hum of light in the engineering wing. Amelia sat on the floor of her office, legs crossed, iPad glowing in her lap.

Oscar lay stretched out on the rug in front of her, still in his training kit, a protein shake abandoned next to him. Lando was in her desk chair, spinning gently, half-asleep and barefoot.

“This is the weirdest sleepover I’ve ever been to,” Oscar muttered.

“You say that every time you hang out with us,” Lando replied, yawning.

“I mean it every time.” Oscar said.

Amelia didn’t look up. “Shut up. I’m trying to change the trajectory of your entire careers right now.”

That got their attention.

Lando leaned forward. “What are you doing, baby?”

Amelia turned the iPad so they could both see the screen. Her voice was calm, even, but there was a thread of something bright underneath it. “This is going to be your 2024 car.”

Oscar blinked. “You—what?”

She tapped through a few screens: 3D renders, rear suspension models, aero flow maps. “Codename MCL38-AN. I told you both that I already had it planned out, didn’t I?”

Oscar sat up straighter. “You really think that’ll put us at the front of the grid?”

“Yes,” she said. “You’re driving scrap metal right now, I won’t lie. It’s holding you both back. But this car—” she tapped the image again “—this is what we’re building toward. This is the one. The team just needs time. I need time.”

Oscar was staring at the iPad, wide eyed. “You’re sure.”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. All I need is for you to keep showing up. To keep believing. We’re not going to be at the back of the grid forever.”

Lando stood, walked over, and looked down at the designs for a long moment. “It’s beautiful,” he said quietly.

“I know.”

“Why are you showing us now?”

“Because,” she said, glancing between them, “I can’t ask you to keep suffering through this season unless you have a reason. A future. This is your future. You’ll win races in this car.”

Oscar laughed, breathless and stunned. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Amelia said, finally smiling. “Holy shit.”

Lando slid down onto the floor beside her, shoulder brushing hers. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Us. This team. This sport.”

“Thanks,” she said.

Oscar pointed at the iPad again. “Can I name it?”

“No.” She said.

“Can I drive it now?” He asked.

“It doesn’t exist yet.” She told him.

“Then can I keep being your ducky?”

She looked at him, bemused. “You want to be ducky now?”

“I’m reconsidering my argument,” he muttered. “Out of loyalty…”

Lando was grinning. “We’re going to win championships, aren’t we?”

Amelia nodded. Smiled at her husband. Kissed him. “Yes. We are.”

—

They got back to Monaco well past midnight, Lando wordless beside her in the car. The race had been brutal. Another pointless race. Another weekend where the car hadn’t performed, and the looped back data had made her want to throw her laptop into the Red Sea.

But home was home.

Amelia dropped her bags in the entryway, kicked off her trainers, and walked straight to the kitchen, wordlessly opening the fridge. She fished out a can of Diet Coke and pressed it to her forehead.

Behind her, Lando wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"You gonna fire me?” He asked quietly.

She laughed despite the burning itch under her skin. “No. You did your best.”

“Yeah.” He exhaled against her neck.

They stood like that for a beat. Amelia breathed in the scent of his hoodie and let the familiar weight of him soothe the static in her chest. He was solid. Warm. Hers.

Finally, she turned around and kissed his jaw. “It’ll get better.”

Lando nodded. “Good. Because I’m getting real tired of seeing you more frustrated than smug.”

She cracked a smile. “I’m always smug.”

“There she is.”

—

Amelia didn’t cook often, but when she did, it was loud, chaotic, and always somewhat efficient.

Oscar sat at the breakfast bar, watching her with mild horror as she chopped onions at a blinding speed.

“You’re a very violent chef,” he observed.

“The quicker it’s done, the better,” she said. “Now pass me the basil, ducky.”

He handed it over. “Still don’t particularly like being called that.”

“Don’t care.” She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Do you want red or white wine?”

—

The living room was littered with discarded Uno cards, an empty pizza box, and the remains of someone’s sprite can that Max Fewtrell had been using as a drum for the last ten minutes.

“You are cheating,” Pietra said flatly, accusing Lando with a pointed look.

“I’m just playing strategically.”

Amelia, half-asleep on the sofa with her feet in Lando’s lap, mumbled, “Strategically being a little shit, yeah.”

“Don’t hate the player,” Lando shot back, tugging her ankle gently. “Hate the wife.”

“You’ll sleep on the couch for that,” she muttered, eyes still closed.

Max Verstappen arrived late, as usual. Amelia opened one eye when he collapsed beside her on the sofa and started picking at the leftover cold garlic bread.

“Missed you.” She told him sleepily.

“Missed you too, zusje.” He said.

She leaned her head briefly against his shoulder.

—

The Spanish GP had been marginally better than the ones that’d come before. Still not good. But better.

Back at the airport, Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, headphones in, while Amelia reviewed strategy notes and Lando bought three Snickers and two iced teas.

Lando dropped next to her with a huff, his arm winding around her waist, hand flexing before squeezing her hip. “I’m considering sabotage.”

“Of?”

“The car. I’m gonna drive it into a lake or something.”

Oscar pulled one headphone off. “Wouldn’t it sink?”

Lando stared at him. “That’s your concern?”

“Hydrodynamics are important.” Oscar smirked.

Amelia sighed. “You’re both ridiculous.”

Lando grinned. “You love it.”

She didn’t reply, just leaned closer, then passed him a highlighter. “Help me mark the wind tunnel data.”

—

They’d flown into Spielberg a little early to prep and decompress. Amelia had her notes. Lando had brought five pairs of sunglasses and absolutely no socks. Oscar was, predictably, already on his fifth stretch of the legs down the paddock.

The three of them walked the track together at sunset, shoes crunching against the gravel.

“You know,” Amelia said, glancing between the two drivers, “if either of you crashes this weekend, I won’t be happy.”

“Would you leave me for dead?” Oscar asked, deadpan.

“Yes.” She lied.

“She wouldn’t,” Lando said.

Amelia looked ahead, wind tugging at her hair, then back at the boys; her husband and her ducky.

This job was hell. The car was beyond flawed. The season wasn’t what they’d hoped.

But this, this team, this family, this effort, felt like something worth holding onto.

—

Silverstone came, and there was a shift.

It wasn’t everything. But it was something.

Amelia stood just outside the McLaren garage, arms crossed over her chest, watching the mechanics finish prepping the car for FP1.

The upgraded floor. The reshaped side-pods. The altered rear suspension geometry she’d argued over for weeks.

It was all here. On track. Real.

It wasn’t perfect — of course it wasn’t. The budget cap had demanded compromises. She hadn’t been able to implement the full package she’d thrown together back in March. That version of the MCL60 was meaner, leaner, cleverer — a little monster of a thing. A title fighter.

But this was the one they could afford. And she’d made it the best it could be.

Oscar stepped beside her, helmet tucked under his arm, race suit halfway unzipped. “Doesn’t look like a paper towel on wheels anymore.”

She hummed. “No. More like... a reinforced napkin. Maybe a placemat.”

He gave her a sideways glance. “How confident are you?”

She exhaled slowly. “Seventy percent we’re in the points. Fifty percent one of you surprises me. Zero percent we DNF. I’ve triple-checked the aero modelling. You’re safe.”

He nodded, quiet for a moment. Then, “I know it’s not what you wanted.”

“No,” she said honestly. “It’s not. But it’s what we’ve got. And it’s good enough to fight for points rather than the chequered flag.”

Oscar squeezed her shoulder. Tight. “I trust you.”

There was something boyish in the way he said it. Uncomplicated. She smiled and nudged him toward the car. “Go, ducky.”

“Still don’t like that.”

“Don’t care.”

—

By Sunday, the paddock was electric.

The buzz was real. The performance gains were visible. And people were talking.

After qualifying, someone from Sky asked Lando if he felt like McLaren were back in the fight for ‘best of the rest’.

He didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. We’ve got Amelia Norris to thank for that.”

That one made her throat pinch.

Later, back in the garage, she caught Andrea’s eye as he leaned over the pit wall screens. He grinned, then gave her a thumbs-up.

Even her dad, who’d spent the last several months managing expectations to sponsors and shareholders, gave her a bear hug that nearly knocked her clipboard out of her hands.

“You’ve made believers out of us again, kiddo,” he said into her ear. “They’re already asking about 2024.”

Amelia stepped back and smiled tightly. “Let us get through this race first.”

—

Lando was flying. Oscar was right on his gearbox. And Amelia was vibrating in her seat, headset digging into her ears.

The car wasn’t just competitive; it was racy. Bold. Alive.

She and Will traded glances as they watched Lando chase down Lewis.

“This is all you,” Will said.

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Her heart was somewhere near her throat.

Oscar’s voice crackled in her ear. “Is this what driving a real car feels like?”

Amelia couldn’t help it, she laughed. “Keep it clean, ducky. Still a few laps to go.”

“Is my wife crying tears of joy right now?” Lando asked over his radio. “I bet she is.”

“She is.” Will said.

“Liar.” Amelia laughed, and okay, maybe she did sound a bit choked up.

—

The crowd was still roaring and Amelia was frozen beside the pit wall, headset hair sticking out from under her cap, breathing like she’d just done the full length of the race herself.

It wasn’t a win.

But it was enough.

Lando ran up behind her and flung his arms around her shoulders, lifting her slightly off the ground as she shrieked.

“Put me down, you sweaty idiot—!”

“We did it!”

“You did it.”

“No,” Lando said, spinning her once before finally setting her down. “You did.”

He kissed her, quick and messy, and the cameras were definitely watching, but she didn’t care. She’d earned this moment.

Oscar wandered over and offered her a half-hearted fist bump.

“Better than a placemat,” he grinned lopsidedly.

“Almost a dinner plate,” she agreed.

He laughed, and then he took her to watch the podium.

Max on top. Lewis next. And then her Lando.

Her husband.

Beaming right at her.

She made Oscar hug her. Needed the deep-pressure to cut through the overwhelming joy coursing through her veins. Somebody took a picture and posted it on Twitter with the tag ‘Best racer/engineer duo EVER’.

—

Amelia was sitting cross-legged on their hotel bed, notebook open in her lap, notes scribbled in every margin.

Lando walked out of the shower, towel around his waist, hair damp.

“You’re still working?”

She looked up. “I’m trying to figure out how to sneak in another mini upgrade before Qatar.”

Lando crossed the room and kissed the top of her head. “You’re mad, you know.”

Amelia frowned. “I’m not.”

He slid into bed beside her. “C’mere. Work can wait till tomorrow.”

She paused, then closed the notebook and handed it to him. “Don’t lose it,” she warned. “That’s the future in your hands.”

He looked at the cover, scuffed, dented, covered in papaya and coffee stains, and held it like it was a sacred text.

“We’re going to have podium celebration sex now.” She told him. “I bought chequered flag lingerie.”

His eyes went wide. “Oh—Holy shit. You did?”

She smiled.

NEXT CHAPTER

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witchygagirlwrites · 4 months ago

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Wild as Her

Kelly Severide x Reader

Kelly has known you for years. You were close with Shay. That wild streak of yours is mesmerizing to him. When he sees Will start to dark that light within you he decides to do something about it.

Companion piece to Don't Cry

The day Kelly walked into the loft and you were hanging upside down off his couch, sitting next to Shay there was a slight chance he started falling for you then and there. He tilted his head, cutting his eyes at Shay “Yours?” she shook her head “Friend Kelly” then introduced the two of you. You flipped off the couch, your hair everyone and a grin on your face as you said “Damn, I can see what she meant. You are hot”

He’d never been more amused within moments of meeting someone. Of course it didn’t help matters that within about an hour you and Shay were dancing on the counters while he ordered Chinese takeout at your request. Watching you dancing while using a spatula as a microphone, he couldn’t help but laugh and wonder just where in the hell she’d found you.

You were off limits to date because you were Shay’s friend first and there were some lines Kelly wouldn’t even cross. The two of you did quickly become friends. It was hard not to do considering every turn he made you were there. He figured out you were a nurse at med, a damn good one at that. He’d come in some days to you curled up on his couch fast asleep and wearing one of his shirts. If he questioned it Shay would glare at him “She had a long day and didn’t want to be alone”

He didn’t mind, even if he got questioned a time or two by dates as to what exactly you were doing in and out of this loft. You became a part of his life just like she was. When he went through his addiction you were there too. When he lost her and tried to shut everyone out you showed up pounding on his front door and threatened to sleep in the hallway using “You don’t want me in danger and if I fall asleep out here I could get hurt”

You became his best friend. He loved that fire you had. The fact that you loved loud colors and louder music. You’d dance with your patients and joke with paramedics. You would stand toe to toe with people when you needed to and rock babies to sleep after facing horrors. Some of the best memories he had were of you and Shay, wearing matching Pjs and sliding around the loft as both of you coaxed him into whatever insanity the two of you had cooked up.

When you told him one night while you were at his place, forcing him into yet another horror movie marathon that Will Halstead had asked you out, he wanted to tell you to not go out with the redhead. Hell he wanted to beg you to not go out with the redhead. Kelly had long since accepted his feelings for you would probably be one sided but as long as you stayed single or just had a couple dates here or there he could deal. You always ended up at his side.

Instead he found his mouth moving at the words “Well do you like him?” coming out. You shrugged “He’s cute” he nodded, eyes glued to the screen “If you like him go for it” and that was that.

_____________________

You’d been dating Will about a month when he started to see a slight change. The horror movie marathons went from every other weekend to once a month. That was fine, new relationship and all he got it.

Then he came into med on st patrick’s day. You weren’t wearing your hair in braids with the rainbow ribbons threaded through. You did that every year. Shay had started it with you. When he asked you why you’d said that morning when you started to do your hair Will had told you it was dumb and you realized a grown woman with rainbow ribbons in her hair was kind of stupid.

____________________

He hadn’t killed Will then. Did he want to? Yes. He’d refrained because you said you loved Will and swore you were happy. Ok, he could swallow his own emotions to see you happy. Then came the fourth of July. You came to the CFD picnic and when you started dancing with the kids Will shook his head and he saw your face fall before you apologized to the kids and walked away. Matt was the only reason Will walked away with his head still connected to his body that day.

____________________

Then you stopped coming over for the horror movie marathons because Will told you it was childish. “That son of a bitch is killing her” he cursed to Matt one day who stared him down “Is it because Will is actually doing anything to her or is it because she’s not spending any time with you anymore Kelly?” of course it wasn’t that. He could handle losing you, he wanted you happy but he also wanted you to be you. Will was trying to dampen that fire he loved at every damn turn. “He’s trying to change her Matt” he explained and Matt shrugged “Kelly if she loves Will and you get into a fight with him you could lose her completely”

He knew Matt was right, rather he liked it or not. He could just be there for you as he could and hope like hell Will didn’t kill the person you were to make you into the person he thought you should be.

The day Kelly got clocked by a beam and ended up in Med he argued with Sylvie the entire way because if he got Will as a doctor then they would both need one. When the doors opened however and he heard your voice a smile slipped onto his face. He could deal with it if he got to see you.

____________________

After you walked out of his room to go see other patients he got tired of waiting for the X-Ray techs so he stood out of the bed, stretching as he did so. You would yell at him if you came back in but at least that meant you were in the same room with him for over a few minutes, right?

He walked around the exam room but froze when he heard your voice outside the door “She would have commended me for putting a patient with a chronic illness at ease along with her younger sister. I may not be a doctor, but I’m not an idiot. You made me look like a fool in front of a patient” who were you talking to? Who made you look like a fool for treating patients like you would want to be treated?

He got his answer quick enough when Will’s voice hit his ears “Then don’t act like a damn teenager running around here! For fuck’s sake! I wake up to you blaring music and sliding around your kitchen in snoopy socks and grinch pjs! At least when I was with Nat I felt like I was dating another mature adult” it took everything in him to not snatch the door open then and there and see if he could break Will’s jaw in a few places.

“Baby, I didn’t mean to compare you to her. You know I love you” Will tried and Kelly rolled his eyes. Then why did you? Fucking asshole. When you spoke again he could hear the hurt in your voice “I’m going to get back to work Doctor Halstead. I suggest you do the same”

He wanted to talk to you after that but you sent April back in with Ethan. Of course you wouldn’t want to face him after an argument with that son of a bitch.

Kelly sat with Matt and Sylvie, watching as you walked in and a smile slipped onto his face at seeing you were by yourself. Had you kicked Halstead to the curb finally?

Matt followed Kelly’s line of sight and shook his head “You’ve been pining for years man” Sylvie slapped his arm “Shut up at him! I think it's sweet that he looks after her” Kelly felt his face flush “She’s just, she’s my best friend” Matt raised an eyebrow “Shay was your best friend. I’m your best friend. Her? You’re in love with her”

He watched you get a beer “Will doesn’t appreciate her” Matt chuckled lightly “Maybe she just needs someone as wild as her” and when he cut his eyes up the other man shrugged “Just saying”

_____________________

Kelly watched as you talked to Jay but you smiled talking to the younger Halstead so he let himself relax for a moment until Will walked through the crowd. What the fuck was he doing in a suit? He watched him walk over to you and the two of you talked for a moment before you shoved Will and slid off the barstool to head to the door. Will followed you and without thinking Kelly was on his feet following you both.

He hadn’t meant to let his temper get the best of him but when he saw the set of your shoulders and Will’s hand wrapped around your arm he spoke without thinking “If you don’t move your hand off of her I’m going to rip your arm off Halstead” and he meant every damn word.

When you turned around and made eye contact with him he felt his heart flip when your shoulders relaxed just a bit, even as Will asked him how it was any of his business. His eyes were glued to Will’s hand that was digging into your arm “LET GO OF HER”

Will dropped your hand and held his up defensively “Oh this is cute. Don’t tell me you’ve had a thing for her this whole time?” Kelly felt his heart hit his feet. Fuck why did Will have to say that? Anything else he could’ve said. How the hell could he look you in the eye now? He felt his jaw clench, oh fucking well. He didn’t care. Will could talk shit about him all day. Not you. “Kelly Severide, the playboy of Firehouse fifty one carrying a torch for his best friend, the wild ass nurse that can’t even act normal for one fucking shift if her life depended on it”

Kelly took a step towards him, with every intention to make sure another word about you couldn’t come out of his mouth “Talk about me all you want but not her” you looked around the bar before sliding between them, a hand on Kelly’s chest “Kelly, back off” why the hell were you backing him down?

Will laughed “Yeah. Crazy listen to crazy” “That’s enough Will!” Jay hollered and you looked up at him from where you were still standing in front of Kelly “Thank you” Jay grabbed his brother’s arm and asked what was wrong with him.

He stared at you with contempt as he said “I’ve had multiple chances to get back with Nat and have wasted them trying to be with her. Nat told me tonight she’s getting married to someone else”

Kelly felt his heart break for you when you asked “What do you mean by multiple chances?” and Will shrugged “Do you really want to know baby?” you shoved past them all outside and that was it. Kelly didn’t give a damn that Jay was a detective or Will’s brother. He swung and connected a hard punch with Will’s jaw. The redhead stumbled back and hit the floor. Kelly stood over him seething “The only reason I don’t fucking kill you is so I can go after her” he looked at Jay “Am I getting charges?” Jay shook his head “He had that coming”

_______________________

Kelly caught you before you made it too far and pulled you into his chest “I’m sorry” your voice was muffled against his shirt but he still heard it when you said “I’ve never been good enough for anyone. I’ve been too wild, too loud, too chaotic, too crazy”

“Fuck any person who has ever made you feel like you were too much” he told you and you pulled back from his arms to look up at him “What?” so he grinned. God even upset you were the most gorgeous woman he’d ever laid eyes on “I’m through watching you shrink yourself down for everyone else. You’re going to be you from here on out. If I have to go through every son of a bitch in Chicago that tries to so call fix you I will”

A small smile played at your lips “Or you could just walk me to my car?” he smiled “That works too”

“Cruz, make a run with me to Med?” Kelly asked and Joe looked up with a grin “Lets do it”

____________________

When Kelly and Cruz walked in carrying coffee and pastries you came around the corner and froze “What’s this?” he shrugged “it’s just for the nurses because screw the doctors” they put them down in front of Maggie who grinned “I don’t know who’s wanting what but yes, the answer is yes” Cruz shrugged “You two heard the lady”

You looked up at Kelly and grinned “She is my boss after all” he pulled you into his arms and spun you around before dipping you like he knew always made you laugh. When he pulled you up the grin on your face was worth everything. You kissed his cheek then Cruz’s too before saying “Get to work Lieutenant and call me later” he nodded “Yes ma’am” and slapped Cruz’s chest “Let’s get going”

How do you plan a first date with someone you’ve known for years? Someone you’ve spent night after night with? You use that knowledge to have all of their favorite things planned out.

Kelly picked you up in his mustang and the moment you got in you reached for the radio then stopped and he grabbed your hand and put it on the dial “It’s me. You can be you” you smiled brightly and turned it to your favorite station, cranking it up and you both started to sing along.

_____________________

At the end of the night when Kelly took you home you pulled him into a kiss. It was everything he’d ever thought of and when the two of you had to break apart for air you pressed a kiss to his jaw “I’m sorry” your apology confused him so he asked “What are you sorry for baby?”

You braced your hands on his chest “Not seeing that you were the man I belonged with before now” he smiled softly and cupped your chin with one hand “I would’ve waited for a lot longer if I would’ve had to” and pulled you into another kiss.

You decided to rent out your place over selling it. Violet, the new para loved it plus it gave you some extra going into your account every month for anything you wanted. You moved into the loft after you and Kelly were together about six months. He would’ve had you there before then but it was your comfort level that mattered not his.

_____________________

Kelly woke up to music and wasn’t surprised to find your side of the bed empty. He slipped out of bed and walked out of the room. When he got in the kitchen you were wearing your grinch pjs and scooby doo socks, sliding around while you danced to the music. He could smell the coffee brewing.

You spun around and froze when you saw him. “Morning?” he grinned and held his hand out. You slid to him and he started to dance with you. You laughed when he dipped you “I made coffee?” he pulled you back up and brushed a kiss to your lips “I got those croissants you like yesterday too, so once we finish our dance and the coffee is made we’ll have breakfast”

You smiled and pulled him into another kiss “I love you Kelly” he grinned “I love you too”

Kelly had to stop by Med to pick up one of the rookies from getting his physical. The moment he walked in the door he heard your laugh and turned to catch you as you flung yourself into his arms. He spun you around before kissing you. He gently placed you on your feet and you grinned up at him “I have Ritter in exam two. He was a good patient, unlike some people” he shook his head “I’m a good patient when you play nurse at home” you shook your head “I love you but go get your guy and get to work” he grinned “Yes ma’am”

@desimarie12

#kelly severide x you #kelly severide x reader #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire fanfic #chicago med fanfiction #chicago med fanfic

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xximpressions · 1 year ago

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Manic

Matt Casey x neurodivergent!Paramedic!reader

Summary: You're hit with the reality of your disorder whilst on the job at Firehouse 51

Word Count: 1570

____________________________________________________________

The text you had just received could only be stared at as frigid terror built inside you.

The sudden drop of water that splashed onto the screen of your phone made you knowledgeable to the fact that you were not only crying, but were also emotional enough to have tears already streaming down your face.

You quickly raised your hands in a hasty attempt to wipe away the signs of you weeping because this was no time for emotion.

You had to think.

Since being a paramedic with the Chicago Fire department came with as many bad days as it did good ones, you had recently sought out a therapist to help untangle the complexities of your mind. With the stakes being high in your profession and the margin for error being low, having weekly sessions meant you had gotten to talk out a few surface level incidents you were having trouble processing. But you hadn’t gotten to the heart of whatever was making it difficult for you to sleep at night.

Till now that is.

Once again, you forced yourself to refocus because you had to think about what to do with the information you have just received!

You won’t lie and say that a part of you didn’t briefly considered doing nothing. To pretend as if you hadn’t ever seen the text so you could simply go about your day as if everything was fine.

But even as you thought this, you knew it wouldn’t be the right thing to do.

Because if this message was correct, you couldn’t be here. Or out in the field where you would potentially be putting people in jeopardy due to something you could not control.

And not just victims, but your co-workers too.

With a shaky sigh, you realized that as much as you loved your family at Firehouse 51, they unfortunately could not help you now.

So you had to think!

What could possibly be your next course of action except being completely honest and hoping for the best?

But this internally asked question only cemented your immobile feet to the floor and made your icy fear feel that much colder.

Being honest came with no guarantees, and it had the additional disadvantage of making you professionally vulnerable.

Knowing that you make a thousand decisions a day in your job, it made you sick to your stomach to know that any of those decisions could now be held up for scrutiny based on what you had just read.

But at the same time, not saying anything from this moment onward meant you would be consciously putting people’s lives at risk with your actions.

As a paramedic of the CFD, you couldn’t allow that to happen.

And as a person who cared deeply for the feelings of others, you wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Even if it came at the price of exposing your secret.

Because it made sense.

The overspending on frivolous things?

The overindulging on your drink of choice?

And your overwhelming desire to stay awake were all the classic signs.

You would have known that had you done any extensive reading on your condition, but it had honestly been years since you’d even given your diagnosis a second thought. With you no longer taking your meds under the assumption that you had been miraculously cured, you were unaware that your disorder now made you a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

Hence your therapist reaching out.

Giving another shaky sigh, you took a moment to reread the text that had been sent.

“I think you are having a manic episode. You need to get to the hospital ASAP!”

Which caused a fresh wave of tears to flood your eyes for the second time.

Because with an astonishing start, you realized this fog—the one that had been blanketing your mind recently and jumbling your thoughts—was you feeling in real time the literal truth of your therapist’s words, which meant she was right:

You were manic.

And you needed to get to the hospital.

Now.

This was all you were able to process before the call of your last name instinctively had you turning your head to face the doorway of the firehouse’s laundry room as Truck 81’s lieutenant, Matthew Casey, came walking in.

“Hey! There you are! I just wanted to let you know that lunch…is...ready…”

The trailing off of his greeting, along with the sudden look of concern now on his face, clued you into the fact that you were still crying.

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s going on here?”

Asked Matt as he laid a comforting hand on your shoulder.

Your tear-filled eyes found his as they bored into you with worry. You suppose you were grateful that of all the comrades you had at Firehouse 51, the truck lieutenant was the one to find you since he was someone you knew you could confide in and vice-versa.

Having joined the house after the tragic death of paramedic Leslie Shay, Matt was one of the first to make you feel welcome amongst your new co-workers. From there, you both formed a genuine friendship that you wouldn’t exchange for anything since it was so rare for you to put your trust in others. But Matthew somehow defied the odds with his warm sincerity, his consistent earnestness, and his inherent desire to help others.

Knowing he would never be one to judge was the only reason you were capable of opening your mouth in order to say with a numb detachment,

“I have bi-polar disorder,”

You quietly began.

“And my therapist says I need to get to the hospital immediataly because I may be having a manic episode.”

There was such an unexpected and heavy amount of shame that accompanied those words, you unconsciously dropped your eyes to the floor as your face crumbled with anxiety-induced sorrow once again.

Matthew, after putting his other hand on your other shoulder in order to turn you so that you faced him directly, said with concern,

“Wait, what? And how do they know?”

With a swallow of your throat, you tried your best to explain.

“I had an early morning session with my therapist before the start of today’s shift. During that session, we discussed this newfounded sense of euphoria I’ve been immersed in lately since it feels like I can do no wrong and have all this energy I can’t seem to get rid of. So much so, that I haven’t really needed to sleep much in these past few days.”

Speaking those words outloud brought a rueful smile to your face since you could not believe you had not noticed all of the classic signs of your condition whilst being a paramedic. But you supposed hindsight was twenty-twenty for a reason.

Putting that aside, you continued by saying,

“This, combined with the fact that I haven’t been on any bi-polar meds in at least a year, are all red flags that indicate I am currently manic and therefore need to get treatment at a hospital sooner rather than later.”

Nodding his head as he learned the seriousness of the situation, Matthew began to say with reassurance,

“Then we’ll get you to the hospital as soon as possible. I’ll go let Chief Boden know that we’re heading to Chicago Med.”

And began to presumably make his way to the Chief’s office.

But before he could even take his first step in that direction, you hurriedly grabbed the lieutenant’s arm in order to halt his retreat from the laundry room alcove.

When he looked back your way, his expression became one of confusion upon seeing that yours was one of panic.

“B-but what will that mean?”

You asked with a note of hysteria.

“If I am having a manic episode, then I am legally not of sound mind right now. What does that mean for the patients I’ve worked on today? What does that mean for Firehouse 51 if I’m at the hospital?”

Wondering just how many people your condition was going to be inconveniencing, you let out a sob you were no longer able to keep at bay as you tearfully said,

“And what does it mean for my career if I ask for help, Matt?”

Unable to see you so upset, your co-worker and trusted friend returned to your side and comfortingly took your hand in his as he gently spoke.

“All this means, all any of this means, is that your mind is currently under the weather and it needs a little help to get better again. Just like with having a cold or the flu, having any illness—whether it be physical or mental—means you go to the doctor, they prescribe you something that can help, and you’re back to yourself in no time. The rest? We’ll deal with it as it comes, okay?”

Hesitantly nodding your head, you tried to allow the logic of his words to wash over you as you quietly replied.

“Okay.”

And gave your friend a small, but grateful smile as your emotions slowly calmed down.

Giving a short nod himself, Matt flashed a grin of reassurance your way before gently tugging you by the hand in the direction of your boss’s office.

And as he led you down a path you knew you wouldn’t be able to come back from, you simply hoped it was the right path for you to take nonetheless.

#matt casey x reader #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire #one chicago #matt casey imagine #matt casey

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professorwerewolfmcwerewolf · 7 months ago

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Okay, I have an idea. Gotta admit, first, I haven't watched most of Chicago PD (or Med but that's not relevant here. I've seen all of Fire). I was already in love with the Halsteads and now I've fallen in love with Mouse as a character. I also fully blame @kitweewoos and @gregorygerwitz for that. And I'm not sure if y'all's hc of Mouse's parents being rich and having disowned him is just a hc or somewhat implied in canon, but it's fully canon in my brain.

Alright. My idea. When Mouse starts to get restless being part of the unit, his initial thought is still reenlisting because that's familiar. And Voight tightening the fucking leash just totally reconfirms the need to get out. But then for some reason or another. (maybe Moustead happens and he can't bring himself to leave Jay even if he has to leave the unit. Maybe he gets to talking to Severide or Hermann or any of our 51 firefighters at Molly's.)

He starts looking into the CFD. He would still need his record cleared. But even if Platt had had hesitation, uh clearing his record so he can join the fire academy? *(calls Mouch)* Babe, I got you a veteran to join the cfd! He already comes with a nickname!

And so Mouse signs up for the next like available opening in the academy. And with a sus amount of luck *(side eyes Sargeant Platt)*, his number's called the same year. He's hopeful. The lack of gunfire is a relief as much as a bummer, but it's not a deterrent. And he isn't 100% sure how he'll do if he gets too close to explosion or gets a serious injury, but he'd have that same uncertainty overseas, just extra likely. And, of course, Jay is thrilled. Voight isn't, but he also isn't acting as much like a toddler because he has to respect the CFD. But Jay's thrilled that Mouse isn't trying to put himself through That™️ again. He feels guilty for a bit when he thinks maybe Mouse dropped the reenlisting idea just to placate him, but Mouse tells him it was just his first idea.

So Mouse goes through the fire academy, fucking excels. The soldier-like bits are like coming home. This he knows. This he can do. Sure, he might need to fill his free time with stuff to use his tech skills so boredom never leads him to hack the wrong shit while tipsy, but he would've done that anyway. He's not even opposed to helping out the unit, but only when they actually just can't figure it out themselves.

Fresh out of the academy, he obviously becomes a candidate at Firehouse 51. Do they need one right now? Don't care. They're getting Mouse. They need a new stray, and he needs a bigger family than just Jay and Will via Jay. Okay, I just checked the timeline, and Mouse's last CPD episode was conveniently at the same time as Jimmy Borelli's uhhh incident 🔥🫠 in October 2016. So, 51 does, in fact, need a candidate. 🫢😅

Humor in the tags. But seriously. Mouse can't decide if he absolutely hates them trying to include him in stuff (because past experiences say this is a lie and they wanna lure him into a false sense of security before being shit, despite the fact they've never individually given him bad vibes before) or desperately wants to do good to feel like he deserves them.

This part specifically applies to the Gerwitz-family-being-rich hc: It doesn't take the house long to piece together Gerwitz, and that Mouse isn't involved in his parents' lives. But you know Otis. Otis is Otis. Mouse is a candidate. So naturally, he's gonna joke about it. Mouse is fine at first, just acts like he didn't hear him or just glares or walks away, and everyone else has the decency not to laugh if it's the latter two reactions. Otis continues. Until one day, he jokingly implies nepotism. Mouse stops him in the locker room. "Listen, funny guy. I get this. The hazing is part of the job. It's fine. And you have plenty of material to work with. You wanna joke about my service, my addiction, working for the intelligence unit, my friendship with Jay? I don't care. But you make another crack about nepotism like my parents gave a single fuck about me after I wasn't their perfect little socialite? Like I wasn't fully disowned and cut off? That's a fight you won't win, Zvonecek." And his pronunciation of Otis' last name being perfect is oddly the sticking point for him. Otis is a bit butt hurt for a few days, but accepts the honesty and threat as good enough reason to back off on that topic.

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lovesickheroreader · 6 months ago

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I Love You, I'm Sorry 3/3

Paring Sam Carver x fem!reader

Previous chapter

Read on A03

Masterlist

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The rest of your shift was uneventful after that house fire call. Everyone at 51 was singing your praises at your daring rescue, with them all expressing their relief at your safety. While you did receive a small lecture from Boden about following orders, even the battalion chief praised you on saving little Mark.

Herrmann even gave you the night off at Molly's which was nice because after the day you had all you wanted to do was get into your pajamas and binge watch something on Netflix while stuffing your face with snacks.

Just when you were about to do said things, a knock sounded from your front door. Shutting off your phone, you got up from your couch and went to answer.

Your eyes widened, seeing Carver. “Carver…what are you doing here?” You asked after a beat, crossing your arms.

“I'm a jerk.” Carver blurted out bluntly, taking you by surprise.

“Not gonna argue with that,” you retorted, your brows furrowed in confusion.

“What I said to you last shift was horrible and uncalled for, and I'm so sorry for hurting you,” Carver apologized softly, his eyes trained on you with visible regret.

Of course you couldn't stay mad at him forever, it was impractical….but there was still something troubling you.

“But why? Why say any of it?” You asked, your tone pleading for him to tell you the truth. Something happened that made him say what he did, was it your fault? Did you pry too much?

You watched Carver crumble at your question. He sighed heavily, his back slumping against the side of your doorway. You waited patiently, watching as Carver showed you his vulnerable side once again.

“Because I was scared,” he confessed in a small voice, looking blankly ahead before moving his gaze back to you.

“Scared?” You repeated in a whisper.

Carver shakily nodded. “Of letting you in,” he answered, stunning you. He saw your reaction and continued. “When I moved to Chicago, I left my past behind in Texas. I spent years trying to dissociate from the Sam I was there to the one here. I didn't want my lives to mix…for the former to screw up the current one.”

Your heart ached at the revelation. The fact Carver felt the need to hide all that happened with his family to the point where he thought anyone knowing about his past would send everything crashing down. That was why he was so guarded. It all made sense now.

“I pushed you away because I was scared of letting you all see the real me. The real Carver, who isn't just some cocky firefighter in the CFD, but a guy riddled with a trunk full of emotional baggage and trauma. I couldn't let that part of me take one of the best things in my life, so it was easier to push you away than for you to realize how much of a burden I really am,” Carver croaked, swiping at his eyes as tears threatened to shed. One had already escaped and trickled down your cheek.

“Oh Sam,” you mumbled, barreling into his arms, embracing him gently yet firmly. Sam clung onto you, breaking out into quiet sobs. This lasted a few minutes until Sam began to calm himself, signaling to you he was ready to hear what you had to say.

You slowly pulled away from him, still keeping hold of his shoulders. “Look at me,” you ordered lightly. When Sam refused to, you raised his chin with your hand before resting it on his cheek.

“I forgive you, for everything. But let's make one thing clear: You are not a burden to me or to anyone else. So get that into your thick head, Carver, before I knock it in there,” you threatened, successfully getting a small chuckle out of him.

Unconsciously, you began stroking his cheek with your thumb. “You're a good man Sam, under all that bravado is a kind, compassionate guy who's not afraid to put his life on the line for the people he cares for, including me. That's the man I've fallen for. And if he comes with a crap ton of emotional baggage, then so be it.”

“You're in love with me?” Sam asked, raising a brow. You flushed but didn't shy away, instead you stood strong, nodding with a sheepish smile.

Sam laughed in both excitement and disbelief. He tucked a piece of stray hair behind your ear, making your heart flutter. You saw his eyes land on your lips and bravely inched yourself forward, your hands slipping onto his chest.

Taking the hint, Sam brushed his lips against yours, quietly whispering, “Good, cause I'm crazy for you,” before colliding your lips together.

Your hand came to grip the back of his head, drawing him closer to you. Sam hungrily kissed you more intensely as you raked your fingers through his dark brown hair. Before you knew it, the two of you were stumbling into your apartment with Sam kicking the door close behind him.

“Jump,” he instructed huskily, breaking away from the kiss. You obeyed, and he caught your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his middle.

You moaned as he began planting kisses along your neck. Sam walked you around your living room aimlessly as he realized he had no clue where your bedroom was. You chuckled breathlessly and helped direct him. When he eventually got you two there, Sam threw you down on the bed.

You quickly pulled off your shirt and watched him do the same. Your eyes roamed over his lean, muscular physique. Sam noticed your ogling and smirked. “Like what you see?” He teased, letting his own eyes trail over your lingerie covered body.

“I should be asking the same thing,” you replied with a lopsided grin. Your expression turned more lustful as you seductively asked, “Are you gonna unclasp this bra, or am I?”

You barely finished your sentence before Sam pounced on top of you. When your bra was discarded, he eyed your naked body with awe. While you two became more intimate, you made sure to also spare your attention on Sam's scar, kissing it gently. You wanted him to feel that every inch of him was loved by you.

Hours later, you found your head resting on Sam's bare chest as he lightly stroked your arm. The two of you were silent, basking in each other's presence and the pleasure that came with it.

“You know you scared the hell out of me today on that call,” Sam said, breaking the tranquil silence.

You tilted your head up to find him already looking down at you. “I scared myself too. But this job...it's who we are. We can't let whatever this is get in the way of that, Sam.”

As much as you loved him, you couldn't let your relationship with Sam interfere with your job as a firefighter. Thankfully, Sam seemed to be in agreement.

“I know. It's gonna take time for me to get used to the sight of the woman I love running into burning buildings and putting her life in danger…but I suppose I signed up for this the moment I kissed you huh?” Sam asked rhetorically, smiling.

You mirrored it, “You sure did, Carver,” you said before capturing him in another kiss.

A/N Hope you all enjoyed! I've been simping over this man since his debut, and all I have to say is that we need more fics damnit!

#sam carver #chicago fire x reader #sam carver x reader #chicago fire #sam carver x fem reader

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shewholovesall · 2 days ago

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Kelly Severide's Father Figures Over the Years

So first I'm going to talk about the father figures and why, and then I'm going to put them in order of Influence/Importance

Benny Severide: Benny Severide is an asshole but it is his father and Benny has given Kelly some good advice, well one good piece of advice from season 1 when Kelly taled about leaving Squad and going to Madrid with Renee. Benny had told him: There is no replacing Rescue Squad. But you already know that. That's why you came out here, so I could talk you out of going. Look, I know I wasn't there for you like I should have been or could have been. I've 3 wives removed from your mother, and I'm in no position to give you advice. But you're scared, Kelly, and you know why you're afraid of it, because you're not ready for this. DISAPPOINT ANYONE--HELL, DISAPPOINT EVERYONE, BUT DON'T EVER DISAPPOINT YOURSELF. Even though Benny was hiding from his ex-wife Beth in S2, he did want to spend time with Kelly. He was trying in his own crazy way to make up time with Kelly that he had lost. And as much as I hate Benny Severide, he does love Kelly. In his own twisted way, he loves his eldest son.

Wallace Boden: Boden has always looked out for Kelly. He is the one that we hear in S10 that found Kelly at headquarters after Grissom threw away his squad invitation and said "I thought you wanted to be on the Squad." In s1 with the addiction and concern about paralysis and him taking about moving to Madrid with Renee. Boden encourages him not to make a hasty decision and said with your experience and your dad's history with CFD I can get you into another department like OFI or anywhere you want to go. We can make that happen. Even when that Tara made accusation, Boden told Kelly he believed that Kelly did nothing the entire time but he had to be a chief and Kelly understood. I know it could have been due to being Chief but when Kelly came back after Shay's death, he tells Kelly we can get you grief counseling, and even though Boden didn't think his marriage to Brittany would last he did support him and told Kelly when he said he was in the pool of how long he'd be married and Kelly told him "I won't lt you down" And Boden wake "I hope that's true." Bodeen didn't want to demote Kelly and even when Kelly was demoted still invited him to officer meetings. In S6, after Stella and Otis in the house with gunshots, Boden tells Kelly "you have a big heart severide, this is not a weakness, it's a strength but duty must come first. In season 7 I know it's Benny that says it first but Kelly agrees to it. "Boden , he's the father you never had." Kelly agreed. IN S8, with his boat, when Kelly has to fix his boat after him and Steella got stranded int he ocean. Boden to Kelly: I know you'll fix it but I just wanted you to know that I know (if that's not dad behavior , I don't know what is." Boden giving advice about women to Kelly. "Never try to understand women Kelly. Talks about his wife and that everhying gets better once everyone is home. Then Kelly asks Stella to move in with him. When Kelly gets engaged to Stella he is genuinely happy for them. If anyone can remember any more and wants to add feel free. But I think I gave enough reeciepts on how Boden is his father figure.

Grissom- Mostly this is from what Kelly says. Kelly talks bout how thee reason h is a firefighter is because of Grissom and it meant a lot to him. Of course if I remember corrlety, Benny saved Grissom so Grissom felt like he oweed to Benny. I do think Grissom does care for Kelly in a way but Grissom is like Benny in the fact that h elikees to "leapfrog" to get what he wants. But I'm adding him in here because I dod think Grissom helped Kelly to an extent but then in S10 we find out why it had been so long and it's because Grissom tried to tank Severide going to Squad only Boden brought it up to him when Boden was Captain.

Van Meter: Again this is by what Kelly said. Kelly said in S11 I belive that everything hee knows aboutarson is because of Van Meter even thought his father had been in OFI. So he's on here.

Honestly, this is the information I have, and I could be missing things. But in no way is Pascal a father figure. I mean, maybe they're friends and maybe Pascal could be like an older brother/cousin thing to Kelly, but not a father figure

Now the Importance/Ranking for Kelly Severide's father figure IMHO where 1 is th best

Wallace Boden (This is a given and I will not take anything else into account)

Benny (He wasn't a great dad by any means, but I feel he had more influence even being absent or in and out of th house during formative years, also I don't have enough information with the other ones.)

Van Meter

Grissom

Pascal (Like I said, I don't think he is a Father Figure at all, but I'll put him hear since apparently Andreea thinks that.

#kelly severide #father figures #my opinion #no one is bettre than Boden and I will not be taking feedback and criticisms

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hotchs-second-wife · 9 months ago

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DON'T BLAME ME || 6 || Jay Halstead x Teddy Rhodes

Chapter Synopsis: When a fire scene causes the power to go out in the area, Jay worries about Thea's safety while Thea worries about everyone else's.

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of attempted murder; mention of a beating; brief description of a vehicular accident; spousal worries/concern for partner's life; split-second allusion to suicidal ideation; Elli's speech STILL fluctuates. Read ahead at your own risk.

Author's Note: I forgot to change up the chapter warnings for chapter five upon posting, so you can see what was planned for that chapter and later scrapped.

Jay

Usually when we finished with a case, we'd all go home. I'd give Brooke a lift home while she called her roommate to let her know she was on her way, and to see if she wanted something to eat. Usually I'd be planning to get comfortable in sweats and a tank, or just sweats sometimes, and call Thea when I got home. Elizabeth would stay at Brooke's until Kelly finished his shift and picked her up.

Usually, I wouldn't be in the bullpen by now and wanting to be throwing my computer over Hawkins' and Lindsay's heads and out the window.

"Someone's missing his wife," Ruzek teased, a knowing smirk on his face.

Brooke laughed beside me. "She's probably thinking he's dead." I looked at her, and she shoved her phone into my hand. She knew my phone died half an hour ago, but I didn't think to bring my charger to work this morning and I had to let it die. "Call her, Halstead. She might not be losing her mind, but she'd still be expecting a phone call. Even if you're not shirtless."

"You've been calling your wife shirtless while she's in shift?" Ruzek teased, as I slipped into the break room to call my wife. Zero-three-two-one. Elizabeth's birthday was easy to remember when it was her aunt and your best friend's pin for her phone.

"Theodosia Rhodes; I can't come to the phone, so just leave a message. If it's CFD related, call Firehouse 51. If it's Dolan Rhodes related, call my store manager." Given she likely wouldn't check her voicemail for a week anyway, I sent her a text to call me on Brooke's number when she got the chance.

As soon as I hit send, the lights started to flicker and everything turned off.

"Ruzek, what did you touch?"

"Nothing!"

"Uh huh."

I gave Brooke back her phone as I sat back at my desk. I felt everyone but Brooke and Dawson were staring at me weirdly and I knew what it was about. My lack of reaction to the power outage. "First off, I've been in worse conditions. Second, my wife has to have all the lights off at our apartment or she can't sleep straight."

"Is that why she looks half asleep when she comes in during her shifts?" Lindsay asked with a frown.

Brooke reasoned, "they can't exactly turn off all the lights in the bullpen at 51 while there's people filling out paperwork."

Thea mentioned she was getting different blinds for her office windows to block out a good portion of the light from bullpen, but it was on her own dollar and the CFD wouldn't cover it, so it was taking a while to get to the firehouse even on express delivery.

"I might be rich, but that doesn't improve delivery times and traffic."

The backup generators kicked in and the lights flickered to a start, as the computers rebooted themselves and I noticed the file I hadn't saved was blank again. I internally groaned as Brooke answered her phone.

"Yeah, we're good...no, I'm still at work...of course, Jay's here. He's my way home...yeah, I can tell him...are you okay?...alright, I'll come see you guys soon...tell her I said hi!" She held her phone to her neck as she leaned to me. "51 was on a call; Teddy's okay, her phone was in the truck; she said she'll call back soon; and she's picking up my grandparents and Elli to have them at 51 with her and Kelly. Oh, and when we're done here, you can meet my sister."

"Thought you only had a brother," Olinsky, frightening us a little, piped in front him secluded desk.

Brooke hummed. "As it turns out, my dad got a woman he cheated on my mom with pregnant and I have a 21-year-old chef as a half-sister."

"Do you like her?" Lindsay asked, and suddenly we were all about Brooke's family issues. She didn't blame Katie, as her sister's name was, since it was Katie's mom that slept with a married man and their dad that slept with another woman while married.

While they talked about the Severides, I got to texting Thea. The first message was just a 'be careful' one, knowing the dark can make people lose their minds. When she sent a 'you too', I stopped myself from liking the message since I was still on Brooke's phone. I passed it back, and I turned to Ruzek for a charger. I wanted to talk to her on my phone.

Thea

Once Elli was settled with Katie, watching her cook in the kitchen, I checked on Kelly's grandparents and made sure they were comfortable in my office.

"Thank you, Thea." Kent shook my hand in both of his. "My grandson's got a good woman looking out for him."

I smiled, knowing that Kelly cherished their support with Elli. "Always, Kent. You're family."

"You too, kiddo." His attention was back on Agatha, and I left them to each other's company. Kent knew he just had to call out to Connie if they needed me, or Kelly for that matter.

As I walked around the firehouse, keeping an eye on the civilians, I noticed Boden talking to one of the women from a building fire some days ago. I sent him a simple nod with a knowing smile before checking in on Elli and Katie. Surely Katie was getting a little overwhelmed with how many people she and Cruz were cooking for.

"How's Auntie Katie doing, Principessa?" I hugged Elli's little body as I stopped behind her to watch the cooking over her head.

"Her cooking is better than Daddy's," Elli waved her sticky hands in my face to prove her point.

Katie smiled guiltily beside the stove. "She stuck her fingers into the sauce before I even noticed."

I shook my head, making sure Elli knew she couldn't do that, before I turned my attention back to Katie. "She gets it from Kelly, he can't help sticking his grimy hands into food either, and Brooke's the same. Might be the Severide genes."

"I can guarantee I will use a spoon," Katie laughed. I went to add something about her family's genetics, chalking up to the fingers-in-food thing to being Kelly's mother as we walked around to the bigger dining table, when a crashed and bang interrupted me.

A man was slamming a younger guy into the table, and Kelly and Boden rushed to separate them. I passed Elli to Katie, who held her niece closer to her shoulder. The man, after being shoved into the metal counter by Kelly, stole a knife from Cruz and waved it at everyone.

Kelly raised his hands in front of him. "Put the knife down, and get out."

"That guy's drunk brother put my niece in a coma!" The man shouted, pointing the knife at the kid he was beating up, before moving it on Kelly.

"We're not going to say it again," I pointed a finger at him. I doubted it would do anything, but it was worth a shot. "Put the damn knife down and get out."

The man didn't move for a moment, staring at me, before he moved to rush Kelly and jump the kid again. Before he reached Kelly, I threw my head into his torso and pushed him into the round table as civilians previously sitting there fled. As I got my arms around him, the man slashed at me and I backed off instinctively.

My self-defence trainer had stopped training me since I started in the CFD when I was 18, so I knew I was a little rusty but the ache in my shoulder really shouldn't have felt as bad as it did.

The man swiped the knife at my face, the tip grazing my cheek and causing me to back up even more. Kelly rushed him, shoving the man into the counter again and making him drop the knife. Once the weapon was gone, Kelly grabbed the guy by the back of his neck and dragged him outside. Boden followed, silently telling me to stay put with the civilians.

I checked on Elli, who was crying from watching her parents get in a fight, and made sure Katie wasn't too panicked. When the guys came back inside, Kelly did the same and wiped the blood from my face.

Boden talked to the on-looking civilians, reassuring their safety, before he turned to us. A couple of my guys had appeared during the fight, and stood nearby. "Keep a look out for anyone wanting a fight; you do what Kelly just did and throw them out in the snow."

The guys and I nodded, knowing Boden was meaning us mostly, given our training. I patched up the cut on my face in the bathroom, as Gabby poked her head inside. "Jay's looking for you."

He was waiting in my office by the time I found him, and as soon as he saw the bandage on my face, Jay lifted his hand for his finger to lightly graze the plastic cover. "Shay called Brooke and said you'd been scratched. She didn't say anything about a knife until we got here though."

"I'm okay." I didn't even believe myself so much that my voice was shaky.

The frown he gave me was a dead giveaway he didn't believe me either. "Thea..."

Thank god Kent and Agatha weren't in my office, because as soon as my nose felt tight and my shoulders started shaking, I started crying and holding onto Jay's shirt.

I was terrified. Mortified that I could've been stabbed, and Elli would've seen her mom get stabbed. She saw her mom fighting. The only thing worse than that was seeing her mom get stabbed. I was doing everything I could to make sure Elli didn't have the same childhood as me, and I let my teenage self take over.

As soon as I met Herrmann and I knew I wanted to be a firefighter, I was going to put my fighting instincts behind me and I'd be a better person than teenage me was. When Elli was born, and I knew she needed a mother, I promised little newborn her that I would do everything I could to make sure she didn't see that version of me.

The version of me that punched first and asked questions later. The version of me that ignored how much her grief affected her that she hurt everyone around her.

But as scared as I was that my toddler saw me any differently, I was scared I was going to die. I didn't want to die. Sometimes I did, but in that moment? No way. I had people to live for now.

I had a husband, who I might not have married because I was in love with him, but I was in love with the time I spent in his company. I had a little girl who needed a mother. I had a best friend who needed my help raising his baby girl, because he was scared he'd end up being another version of his father.

I had a husband. We would have kids eventually. He would need their mother around as they grew up. Those kids needed their mother around. They needed their mother around. They needed their mother around.

"Theodosia, look at me." Jay's voice came through all the voices in my head, and I realised he had been holding my face for at least a few minutes. One thumb grazed over the bandage, and the other wiped the tears from the left side of my face. "You're okay, now. The bastard comes back to get you, I'll kick his ass before he comes in the door. I'm not letting him hurt you."

I bit my lip to stop the tears, just staring at Jay's face. Counting his freckles to calm myself down; his eyes were a really pretty shade of green. They were so much prettier with the freckles all over his face too. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"You didn't need to do anything to deserve someone caring about you, Thea. It's about time someone makes sure you know that. You're amazing, Thea, and I know Elizabeth looks up to you more than anyone."

"Teddy." I murmured, receiving a confused frown. "You can call me Teddy. We've been together long enough now."

Jay smiled. "Great. I was starting to get jealous of Brooke being able to call you that."

"Oh, ha ha. Very funny."

"I am very funny, aren't I?" He grinned, looking a little too prideful.

We didn't get any more alone time, as Brooklyn threw open my office door. I was sure she was more worried about me than her brother, and she was ready to shoved Jay out of her way so she could take care of me.

"I'm okay, B. You two can head back to the district, I'm sure you're needed more there." I squeezed her hands with a little smile. As much as I liked Brooklyn, I felt bad taking any sympathy from her. She was younger than me, and she really didn't need to worry about me; her brother did that enough. "As long as Katie and Elli are okay, you need to get back."

Brooklyn gave Jay a look, before she nodded and she bid goodbye. Jay squeezed my hand before following after her. The sweetheart that Gabby told me about was starting to show, or maybe he always was one and I just didn't notice.

#chicago fire #one chicago #chicago pd #one chicago oc #jay halstead #kelly severide #theodosia rhodes

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sylkiddsey · 2 years ago

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Prompt: “Hold Onto Me”

Set in the early/ middle of season 8

Sylvie’s going to kill Stella. She’s actually going to corner her behind the rotting benches on their side of the field and murder her.

She did this. She implanted this stupid idea about her and Matt; Matt freaking Casey who has to be the worst possible person to have somewhat feelings for.

Okay, maybe Olivia is the one to blame since she said the stupid six words that can’t stop ringing through her brain like a bell. Still, Stella didn’t disagree. She also didn’t slap Sylvie across the face for even considering wanting Matt. Instead, she smirked and now she won’t let it go.

Now, she begged Sylvie to join the CFD softball team who annually plays against CPD. It’s strictly a pissing contest whose only prize is winning and bragging rights. It’s something Severide created so he could kick Jay Halstead’s ass.

Her best friend, her evil intentioned best friend, encouraged her to join this year. She insisted it was because Sylvie played softball in high school. Her friend knows she has a good arm so of course she’d want her on the team.

Wrong, this decision; this torture, is all because of Matt Casey. Stella convinced her here, so she had no choice but to stare and pine for the man who brings a whole new definition to the word swoon.

He’s hot on any given day, that much is obvious. It’s just a fact because any girl who encounters him on a scene, sweaty, stern and sometimes dirty, gets star eyes. They look at him like some Greek god and Sylvie’s human.

Matt’s incredibly attractive but this scene, this look is ungodly. When she first saw him, she rubbed her eyes so hard she saw spots. She thought she was hallucinating but this man was real.

The second-hand cheap uniform that’s oversized on her fits him amazingly. His shirt is halfway unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up so all she can see is tan skin. Plus, his backwards baseball cap stirs something inside her that she didn’t even know existed.

Not to mention, his semi-competitive nature is a real turn on. All of it is entirely inappropriate considering he’s Gabby’s ex-husband. Matt’s her friend and she reasons with herself that any woman would admire this look. Hell, maybe Hailey and Kim are right there with her.

However, based on their starry looks for their respective partner’s, she doubts it. Unfortunately, she’s probably the only one foaming at the mouth. Well, she has seen the blonde female patrol cop making heart eyes at him.

There’s that at least.

God, she’s going to kill Stella after this. There’s no way she didn’t know what she was doing. She wanted her to have to see Matt like this. Just because she’s so happy with her own firefighter man does not give her the right.

Although Sylvie has murder on her mind, she’s also sadistically glad to play alongside him. She’s damn good and it’s thrilling to see his reaction. He even swatted her ass in congratulations after she ran into home base when Cruz advanced to first.

He’s never done that before, and she really can’t say she hated it. Although it was a little awkward when Hermann did the same thing. It’s endearing how into the game Hermann gets. She loves seeing his carefree self.

All and all, playing on the team is fun and they are definitely kicking PD’s ass. They are up by five runs in the bottom of the fifth inning. Jay and Atwater are good and Hailey’s surprisingly fast, but Adam and Kim can’t stop flirting to really do any good. Plus, the patrol cops Platt threatened so they’d join the team are clearly not into it. They rarely make contact with the ball or catch anything in the outfield.

Realistically, her team is in much better shape. Matt and Severide are athletes and Stella and Foster are so competitive it turns into skill. Cruz is one of the best third basemen and Gallo has hit more home runs than anybody. Even Ritter is quick on his feet.

She’s sure they are going to win which is probably why Severide gives in and lets her pitch another inning. His arm is sore, so he forfeits his pitcher status so that means she’s up again.

So far, she’s striked out most of PD aside from a few badly called balls. Trudy Platt makes a very biased umpire, but what can you do? Severide, aka the self-elected leader, pulled himself out while bases were loaded. Hailey had just reached first, pushing Atwater to second. Now, Jay is up to bat, and he looks determined.

His used helmet tips down and he adjusts, getting into a proper swinging stance. “Show us what you got Brett.”

What is it about men and trash talk?

She bends her knees and winds her arm. Ideally, it should pass through the strike zone without that bat making contact. She reels back and shoots forward, throwing the pale-yellow ball as hard as she can.

Jay swings, but misses, the softball landing in Cruz’s catcher mitt with a thwack. Platt declares her throw as a strike.

“Atta girl!” Stella hollers from the short-stop position. She smacks her hand into the glove and winks.

Okay, maybe Sylvie won’t kill her. She’s too encouraging for that.

Jay murmurs, scuffs his sneaker against the dirt and then repositions. He holds the bat behind his shoulder, and she winds up again, throwing the ball a little higher this time. Jay swings and misses, Platt declaring a second strike.

One more and he’s out and CFD bats again. She can easily do this.

“You got this, Brett.”

She looks over her shoulder. Matt’s playing first base because, duh, he’s just that good. He grins at her which causes a wave of nervousness to rush over. Before, she felt confident, but now with Matt’s very blue eyes tracking her every movement, she has butterflies.

God he looks so good. This Saturday evening hue does wonders for him.

Once Jay repositions again, she winds her arm back. She rotates her joint in a circle and releases the ball once it’s straight. It soars in the air harder than the previous ones and she watches Jay’s shinny blue bat make contact. Her eyes drift back onto Matt so she can watch him in action. She registers the harsh clinking noise and hears a simultaneous gasp amongst PD players inside the dugout.

She’s not sure what that is about until the ball comes flying back in her direction and beams her directly in the side of the head. Everything goes dark and before she can process anything, she tastes rich dirt on her lips.

There are a lot of voices all around her, but the throbbing inside her skull and eye socket makes it hard to process any of it. Jay can really hit the ball which should’ve been obvious. The man hits doors with battering rams for a living.

He has some power.

“Sylvie, can you hear me?”

Oh great. Matt, of course he’s here. Of course, the man she can’t get out of her damn head just witnessed her not so graceful face plant into the dirt.

This is humiliating.

His warm, rough hand grazes the back of her head. Despite not being able to open her eyes, she knows his face is right in front of hers. His voice sounds close, and she can also smell the faint scent of the cologne he probably put on before all this.

He grips her shoulder with his unoccupied hand. “Hey, I need you to open your eyes.”

The tone of his voice somehow lessens the pain, so she tries to blink. At first, everything is blurry. All she can see is redness and several sets of feet. After she lets her eyes adjust, she realizes she’s on her stomach. Her right eye is also swollen and throbbing.

“Hey, she’s coming to!”

Stella? Sylvie rolls herself onto her back covering her bad eye. Stella’s crouched next to her, shouting at Foster who is rooting around in the dugout. She’s probably looking for a first aid kit.

The game has apparently stopped. Everyone is crowded around her like she’s some zoo extraction. It is so embarrassing.

“Sylvie, hey? Are you alright?” Matt asks, allowing his hand to cup the side of her face. His worried features are blurry, but still tense.

“Geez, is she okay?”

Jay’s bent at the waist, hands on his knees by her feet. His expression is a mixture between worry and guilty.

Matt shoots him a tense glare, voice low and angry. She’s heard him talk like this on scenes with uncooperative people. “What do you think? You beamed her in the head.”

She’s sure poor Jay didn’t mean to do it. He just had a great hit and maybe if she wasn’t admiring Matt, she could’ve ducked.

Matt turns his attention on her again, narrowed eyes growing soft. His fingers brush some dirt off her face. “Hey, can you talk to me? Do you know where you are?”

Unfortunately, she does.

Her stomach churns at the reality of all this along with the pain. She feels herself grow pale.

“I’m going to be sick,” she murmurs, turning onto her right side by Stella. If she’s going to lose her sandwich Cindy packed for all of them, she’d rather Matt not witnesses that. She’s sure Stella won’t appreciate it, but this is also kind of her fault. She talked her into this.

When she’s on her side, the nausea dissipates. After she feels better, she rolls onto her back. Somehow, she ends up in Matt’s lap with his arm supporting her shoulders.

Emily runs over with the pitiful first aid kit someone left behind in the dugout. When she unpacks it, there is only a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and a warm ice pack.

Sylvie feels something wet roll down her face. She touches the skin above her eye and realizes it must’ve split open from the ball's stitches. She’s bleeding.

“You need a hospital, partner,” Foster says. “You’ll probably need stitches and a CT.”

Yeah, she’d agree she has a concussion. A cop’s strength will do that to a person.

“I’m so sorry, Brett,” Jay apologizes.

She gives him a thumbs up and mumbles, “It’s fine.”

Matt looks down at her, gently caressing her head. “I’m going to take you to Med.”

“What about the game?” Severide asks.

Both Stella and Matt glare through his soul. Although, she’s not upset with him at all. She doesn’t expect they stop the game all because of this.

“She’s bleeding and concussed. I think you’ll survive forfeiting the game,” Matt retorts.

“No, keep playing,” she insists, wincing at how talking aggravates her injury. “Cindy or someone from the stands can take me.”

“No way,” he argues. “I got it.”

Oh god. This can’t get any worse. She loves how much he cares, but he’s killing her.

Stella must notice because she pipes up. “It’s okay, Casey. I can take her. You keep playing.”

Matt begins maneuvering her in his arms. She groans as he just barely jostles her. She’s seeing stars.

“No offense Kidd, but I don’t think you can carry her to the car,” he replies.

Carry? She can probably walk.

“Casey, I can walk,” she protests, but he doesn’t listen. He slides one arm under her back and legs.

“No, you can’t Sylvie,” he replies. “Hold onto me.”

She has no choice but to do what he asks. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he hoists her in his arms like she’s weightless. The movement makes her dizzy, so she rests her head on his broad shoulder.

Despite how embarrassing this is, she can’t say she’s miserable. This is surprisingly nice.

“Kidd, can you grab my keys from my bag and help me get her in the truck?” He requests.

“Sure.”

Sylvie ignores the commotion around her and focuses on how nice it feels to be in his arms.

:::

She winds up behind a curtain in Med’s ER with one of Matt’s old t-shirts against her bleeding eye as she waits. Unfortunately, the ER is overflowing with people who are in worse shape so she’s stuck waiting. It doesn’t matter that Matt already made an enemy out of one of the doctor’s she doesn’t know after he demanded she get some ice; she still has to wait.

The bleeding has slowed, but she’s definitely dizzy. Matt had of course carried her in despite the many many times she insisted she could walk. He never listened because he carried her until he gently sat her on the gurney.

Now, he’s standing next to her with one of her hands tight in his. He took off the hat at some point, so his hair is disheveled and messy. It’s not a bad change.

She really didn’t think he’d stick around, but they’ve been waiting almost an hour and he’s stayed by her side. She’s somewhat reclined back with her knees propped up and her left-hand holding pressure against her face.

He told her ten minutes ago that Stella texted that she and Emily were trying to visit, but with the ER so packed, the nursing staff wanted all unnecessary visitors out.

She understands and as much as she loves her friends, Matt is great company too.

She squeezes Matt’s fingers to lessen the pain because her eye is throbbing and swollen. He must notice the additional pressure because he turns his head and frowns.

“Hey, is it getting worse?” He asks.

“No, just throbs every now and then. I guess that is happens when you take a softball to the eye socket.”

So far, he’s been standing next to her, leaning on the railing every once and awhile after stretching his back. Now, he reaches for one of the plastic chairs with one hand and drags it next to her. He sits down, resting both elbows on the railing and moves his free hand to her head.

He sweeps some hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, Halstead hit you hard, Brett.”

She bites her lip to keep from laughing. “Yeah, I know Casey. I felt it.”

Matt chuckles, letting his hand rest on the top of her head. “I bet. You dropped to the ground instantly. I don’t think anyone had time to react.”

God, that’s so embarrassing.

She groans. “Just great. That’s not humiliating at all.”

“Oh, come on,” he replies. “There is nothing embarrassing about getting hurt. It was Halstead’s fault. Not yours.”

“He didn’t mean to hit me. It was a good hit,” she says. “I should’ve ducked or gotten out of the way. It’s not Jay’s fault.”

He leans back but keeps ahold of her hand. “I don’t care. You shouldn’t have gotten hit like that. You’re going to need stitches and you probably have a concussion.”

She ticks one finger in the air. “Definitely have a concussion. Paramedics know these things, but hey, at least I didn’t break anything.”

The second she makes the joke, she regrets it. Matt’s expression shifts and she berates herself for making light of the Arnow fire.

“I…I’m sorry,” she whispers, squeezing his hand. “I shouldn’t have…”

He shakes his head and shifts his gaze down. “No, no, you’re right. I guess it’s kind of hypocritical of me to be upset with Halstead for hurting you when I did the same.”

She’s so stupid. How could she bring this up? It’s not Matt’s fault. She’s never blamed him ever.

“Casey, you didn’t…” she chews on the inside of her lip. “It wasn’t your fault. I would never blame you for what happened.”

He meets her stare. “I called you in, Brett. I told you it was safe. That’s on me.”

She knows he holds so much guilt over that day, especially Otis’s death. It’s unnecessary because it wasn’t on him. It was the factory’s negligence that caused the blast.

“You thought it was,” she replies. “Everyone did. There was no way for you to know. I don’t blame you and you shouldn’t blame yourself.”

“Yeah,” he replies, but she can tell he doesn’t believe it. He probably never will.

She switches gears and lets her gaze settle on his hand, watching as his rough thumb grazes her pointer finger in soothing patterns. Originally, she thought this injury was a curse, but it’s kind of a blessing. It’s nice to see how much he cares.

He’s a great guy.

“You know,” she whispers, looking up at him. She wants this next confession to really sink in. “More than anyone in the world, I’d trust you with my life. I really would, Casey.”

The signature solemn Matt Casey looks changes. The corner of his mouth ticks up in a small grin. “I appreciate that.” He clears his throat, and she swears his cheeks turn a little red, but that might just be her impaired vision. “When Boden came over the radio and said someone was hurt…I was really hoping it wasn’t you. I mean, I didn’t want Foster or anybody else to be really hurt, but I don’t know.”

She holds her breath in anticipation. The confession startles her to her core. What does that even mean?”

“I guess what I’m saying is…worst case scenario for me was that it was you who was hurt…well, aside from the absolute worst…”

She gently interrupts him. They both know what he means. “Yeah, I know.” She decides to shift the tone. “I knew I’d grow on you eventually.”

Huh, maybe that wasn’t a good idea. She is concussed and the pain meds just now kicked in. She’ll blame her loose filter on that.

Matt chuckles, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, I wouldn’t say you never did. I mean, I’ve liked you since the day I met you.”

Platonically, she reminds herself.

She purses her lips. “No, you definitely didn’t. We barely knew each other. I was just…”

Gabby’s best friend.

God, she’s the worst person ever. She shouldn’t be holding Matt’s hand right now. It’s wrong.

She tries to ease her hand away, but his grip never waivers.

Whatever. If he’s okay with it, so is she.

It’s all friendly anyway.

“Okay,” Matt concedes. “Maybe it took me a couple years to really appreciate you in all your glory, but I had a lot going on. Now, I don’t know…I guess it’s easy with you. I mean, talking and hopefully, building a friendship.”

His sentence trails off with a question. She can’t believe he would think for one second that she doesn’t consider him as a friend.

She does.

The pain meds are leaving her feeling fuzzy. She grins, readjusting the shirt that smells like Matt against her eye. “See? I knew you’d fall in love with me.”

Oh my god.

She lifts her head and the room spins, but she’s too immersed in her panic to clock her symptoms.

Did she really just…

To her surprise, Matt doesn’t look appalled by her stupid slip-up. He’s actually grinning in amusement.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean…pickles.” She shakes her head, averting her gaze onto the tiled ceiling. “Platonically of course. I meant platonically fall in love. I say the same thing to Severide which I obviously don’t want him in love with me. Not that he would. I mean, he’s madly in love with Stella which I want! I want my best friend so happy. I’m not…oh my god.”

She feels like a human car crash. Every move she makes causes more damage.

“Brett,” Matt laughs.

“Obviously you’ll never fall in love with me,” Sylvie says. It’s true. “Nor would I ever in a million years want you to, Casey.” Unfortunate lie.

He raises his eyebrows. Did she offend him?

“You’re not my type. You’re not unattractive obviously…I mean, I’m not saying I don’t think your…”

Now would be the best time for her blood vessels to pop if she does in fact have a brain bleed. It would shut her up, but also give her an excuse to hide behind after all that word vomit.

“Sylvie,” he interrupts, lightly patting her head. “You’re drugged up on pain pills. Probably best you stop talking.”

Yeah, definitely not a bad idea.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry. You can um…I can wait alone. I don’t want to put you out. You probably have things…”

“You better not be trying to push me away now,” he says. “I like being here for you, okay? And I like that you seem to like it too. Just let me.”

Gosh, he’s so earnest. It amazes her.

“I do like you here. I appreciate it,” she says. “I really do.”

She does.

Appreciate him.

#brettsey #prompts #based on a prompt #sylkiddsey prompts #been in the drafts for A LONG TIME #Sorry but all these prompts are probably gonna be pre-canon Brettsey #i just like writing pre canon so much better #and I have an obsession with exploring early season 8

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cynicalone94 · 1 year ago

Text

Please Don't

Read on AO3 here.

Jay is at his desk, already hard at work on the case by the time the rest of the unit returns from the crime scene.

He clearly doesn’t want to talk about what had happened so they follow his lead, settling in to go over leads.

Jay’s already made up the first case board with history on their victim.

“I think I have an angle on this and I don’t like it.” he says, looking up at them.

“Let’s hear it.” Voight says.

“Our vic, Darren Redford, worked security at the water treatment plant.” Jay says. “Located on the shore of Lake Michigan, all running water that goes through Chicago is processed through the facility. The Middle East angle suggests a possible terror attack and this would be an ugly one.”

“If he works security, he might have been able to give them access to the plant.” Hailey comments.

“We need to find out if he did.” Voight says. “Maybe they had to give up and cut their losses.”

“Even if they did.” Jay says. “They’ll find a way into the plant or somewhere else they can cause a lot of damage.”

“We need to find them too.” Voight agrees. “We’ve got pods from the park where he was found and patrol is canvassing for victims. Was there a missing persons report?”

“No.” Jay says. “I do have a next of kin, a sister who lives in Englewood.”

“Take Hailey and make the notification.” Voight orders. “And then head out to the plant. We need to narrow down when he was kidnapped.”

He nods, reaching for his jacket and heading for the stairs with Hailey following.

“Sorry for ditching you earlier.” he says quietly.

“Don’t worry about it.” she tells him. “You okay?”

“It… uh… it threw me for a minute. But I’m good.” he tells her honestly. “I talked to Will.”

She nods, squeezing his arm as they split, going to opposite sides of the truck.

“We need to handle this.” he says as he starts the engine. “But maybe when it’s over we can do our thing?”

“Of course.” she tells him quickly.

He offers her a smile and she feels her stomach flip. As if she would ever deny him their thing.

The sister is shattered by the news but can’t tell them anything. She and Darren don’t see each other often and haven’t spoken even by phone for almost two weeks.

After making sure a neighbor is able to sit with her, Jay and Hailey head to the plant.

It isn’t much more productive.

Darren had taken an unexpected vacation a little over a week ago and nobody has heard from him since.

They are able to ascertain that his credentials haven’t been used to access the plant since then. Jay encourages the management to increase security until they can find the killers and to ensure that his access his terminated immediately.

After getting information on any threats that have been made they reluctantly leave, calling Voight with an update as soon as they get outside.

They get their first big break in the case just as they pull out of the plant.

And it isn’t a good one.

A large truck comes out of nowhere to ram into the passenger side of the truck as Jay pulls onto the road, sending the truck careening off the road to impact the security fence.

Jay is tossed around roughly by the impact, head bouncing off the door several times before the truck comes to a stop.

He looks over, blinking to clear his vision to see Hailey slumped against the console, the door of the truck brutally indented and blood running down the right side of her face.

“Hailey!” he shouts, reaching over to place his fingers against the side of her neck while he reaches for the radio with his other hand. “5021 George. Need an ambulance and CFD to the Water Treatment Plant, Officer injured. Suspect vehicle rammed us off the road.”

His door is pulled open and he glances back to see two individuals in dark clothes and ski masks standing behind him.

“Who the hell are you?” he snarls.

It’s a dumb question. It’s whoever had murdered Darren Redford. But why come after them? This doesn’t move whatever plan Darren had spoiled by refusing to talk forward.

“You’re coming with us.” the man says, pointing a rifle at him.

So they can torture him like they’d tortured Darren his mind is quick to supply but he shoves the panic down. This isn’t the time.

“You leave her alone.” he says.

Hailey’s hurt but she’s breathing and her heart is beating. Paramedics are on the way and they’ll take care of her.

“Get out of the truck.” the man snaps back and Jay unbuckles his seat belt, sliding down with his hands up.

His gun is pulled from his holster and thrown carelessly onto the seat. It’s followed by his phone and then he’s being shoved away from the truck and toward a dark SUV.

He ends up in the backseat, sandwiched between two men with guns as the doors slam closed.

He hasn’t been restrained but that doesn’t make him feel any better about the whole situation.

He tries telling himself that he doesn’t care what they do to him as long as Hailey is okay but the truth is that he does care.

He cares a lot.

They can beat him, shock him, burn him and he really won’t care that much. He can take a beating and keep on kicking. He always could, even in elementary school when his worst enemies were bullies on the playground.

But if they fuck around with needles there’s a good chance he’ll lose his shit.

And Will is definitely going to have to come to his apartment with his flu shot next year.

“So what’s the plan then?” he says darkly. “Cause things didn’t work out so well with your friend, Redford, did they?”

“Should be more worried about yourself than our plans.” the man in the front seat says, turning to look at him. “You’ve seen what we do to the people that we need information from.”

“Yeah.” Jay scoffs. “And what exactly is that you want to know?”

“Nothing.” the man says. “But I saw you at the scene, saw you when your team found Redford’s body. Something that we did to him got to you. And I want to know what.”

Jay’s stomach flips but he forces his face to remain neutral.

“That’s a pretty dumb reason to kidnap a cop. Did you even think this through? My team is going to find you. And whatever plan you had goes out the window.”

“I don’t think so.” the man says. “But it doesn’t matter. I want to see you break.”

Jay returns the eager, overly exciting look with a glare and doesn’t say anything.

All too soon, they arrive at a warehouse in a dying industrial district. He’s pulled from the car and drug inside, strapped tightly to a chair in the middle of the open room.

His captors start small, attacking him with their feet and fists.

The blows are painful but nothing that he hasn’t endured before and they quickly abandon that method.

The man from the car is just standing there nearby, watching him and Jay can see him mentally checking something off his list.

He hands one of his men a knife and Jay just raises an eyebrow as it bites into his skin.

He chuckles, waving to them to keep cutting and Jay rolls his eyes, trying to force his tense muscles to relax.

When the man finally waves them off, he looks down to see the words ‘filthy pig’ carved into his chest.

They try electricity next and try as he might, he can’t hold back the screams that escape him with every press of the cattle prod against his vulnerable flesh.

But it doesn’t even come close to breaking him and the man quickly sees that, shaking his head after only five shocks and waving his men on to the next torment on his list.

Waterboarding is hell on earth and anyone who tells you otherwise has never experienced it or is lying to you.

He can’t help fighting back as he’s released from the chair and taken over to the slanted table.

It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s up next and while he can ultimately handle it, while it won’t be what the bastard is looking for, that doesn’t mean that he’s ready to let it happen.

A blow to the back of the head sends him tumbling to the ground and then they take hold of his arms and drag him over to the table.

He doesn’t get much chance to fight back, still disoriented from the hit, before he’s strapped down, wrists and ankles first and then additional straps ensuring that he can’t move even a little.

Soaked cloth is placed over his face and he quickly holds his breath.

He was trained for this. It doesn’t make it pleasant but it does mean that he knows everything the US Army has been able to learn over its extensive history about surviving being waterboarded.

Then water is pouring over his face and all he can do is struggle against the straps holding him down, struggle to get free, struggle to breathe.

The water stops and he coughs hard, choking and spluttering as he tries to clear his airway, tries to catch his breath.

The man is leaning over him, watching with a detached interest.

“Interesting.” he says finally. “That is when Redford started sobbing, begging us to stop. When he gave up the first code.”

Jay glares at him.

Someone grabs his hand and he screams as they jerk his index finger harshly to the side, snapping the delicate bones.

“That … shooting hand… fucker.” he chokes out and the man laughs.

“I’m so glad I’ve had the chance to play with you.” he says with a wide grin. “I’ve never had so much fun in my life.”

His hand closes around Jay’s throat and he tenses, hands pulling desperately against the straps binding them as it tightens and his air is cut off.

But their hold is unrelenting and as he thrashes about, dark spots begin to appear at the corners of his vision.

The man holds his grip until Jay starts to black out and then releases it.

“Maybe he needs longer.” one of the other men suggests.

“He reacted so severely to seeing signs that it had been done to someone else.” the man says, shaking his head. “It won’t take more than one time to get the reaction I’m looking for.”

He’s burned, first with a cigar and then with a hot poker, whipped, and sits for nearly an hour in the complete, deafened, darkness of sensory deprivation.

None of it is pleasant and a number of agonized screams are drawn from his throat. But never once does he lose control the way that the man wants so desperately to see.

Not until he’s strapped back to that damn table and the man wheels over a small tray with needles lined up on it.

His pulse immediately begins to race, eyes locked on the tray no matter how hard he tries to rip his gaze away.

No longer is he worried about Hailey, wondering how badly she was injured, if she’s awake and worrying about him yet.

All he can think about is those needles. About what the man is planning to do with them.

Pain spreads through his right shoulder, lancing down his entire arm and he lets out a choked whimper despite knowing that the man hasn’t done anything yet.

A damp, musty smell invades his senses and he writhes against the restraining straps.

“What. is the code?” a voice echoes in his ear and he turns his head.

He needs to calm down. He can’t lose control now, can’t let this bastard win.

Five things he can see.

Walls. Flick – Needles.

His breathing accelerates; short, gasping breaths that aren’t bringing in any air.

He can hear screams in the distance, the rustle of footsteps on uneven stone, and gunfire.

No.

He’s in Chicago.

He’s not there anymore. His team is coming for him. He just needs to stay strong.

Stay present.

“This is it, isn’t it?” a voice says next to him, the man unwittingly helping to ground him in the moment. “This is what shattered you yesterday morning. The needle marks on Redford’s body. You realized what had been done to him. Perhaps because you’ve experienced it.”

Jay is shaking, still breathing hard, but at least the flashbacks are held at bay for a moment.

The man picks up a needle from the tray and he winces, pulling away from him as much as he can as another whimper escapes his throat.

The man ghosts the needle across his bare flesh, raising a trail of goosebumps in it’s wake and Jay closes his eyes.

“Please don’t.” he whispers. “Please.”

The needle is lifted and moved to hover over his left hip.

Jay starts screaming, thrashing wildly against the restraints.

“Get that away from me you motherfucker.” he shouts before his words devolve into a stream of threats and insults and then further into incoherent pleas.

It doesn’t take long to get his first glimpse of Jay as the team storms across the warehouse floor, shouts of ‘police’, ‘don’t move’ and ‘get away from him’ flowing easily from their mouths.

It’s the only easy thing about the situation because it’s also not long before he realizes that Jay is completely panicking.

“Drop the needle now!” he booms as he sees the object in the man’s hand, sees it’s identical twin buried deep in Jay’s hip.

The man’s face twists in a disgusting fury but he does as ordered.

The other men are equally quick to give up, raising their hands and stepping away from Jay.

As soon as hands are on them, beginning the process of cuffing them and searching for weapons, Kevin holsters his weapon and presses close to Jay’s side.

“No please.” Jay is still begging, sobbing as he fights against the restraints. “Please don’t. Please no. Please.”

Kevin ignores the litany of desperate pleas, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Easy Jay.” he says. “It’s over. You’re safe now. We’ve got you and we won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

Jay doesn’t respond but the pace of his pleas slows slightly, a slight twist of confusion settling on his face and Kevin keeps talking, falling into a steady cycle of reassurances.

Silence falls around them, Voight pulling back the team to give them space as Kevin fights to bring Jay back to the present.

After what seems like forever, Jay’s struggles finally fall still and he’s blinking up at Kevin with something approximating clarity in his eyes.

“Hey.” he says, forcing a smile onto his face as he starts to unfasten the straps holding his friend down. “There you are are.”

“Kev?” Jay gasps.

“I’m here.” he says. “Whole team is here and those bastards are getting locked away forever. Got an ambulance and paramedics waiting to look you over.”

“‘m fine.” Jay says and the smile on Kevin’s face becomes more real.

“Sure you are.” he agrees. “But you know how EMTs are. Get real worried about things like burns and lacerations.”

Jay doesn’t respond to the joke and he sighs.

“You’re beat to hell man. Gotta let them do their job.”

“Hailey okay?”

“Couple fractured ribs, broken arm and a concussion.” Kevin fills him in. “But she’s awake and spitting mad that we wouldn’t let her come on the raid.”

Jay nods and Kev turns away to signal to Voight that they’re ready for the bus.

Jay grabs his arm and he looks back.

“No needles.” Jay whispers. “Please.”

He frowns.

An IV is a given with Jay’s condition. He doesn’t want to make a promise that he can’t keep but he also doesn’t want to refuse his friend this one request.

A very justified request under the circumstances.

“Can’t give you pain meds without an IV.” he says slowly.

“Don’t want them.” Jay says, shaking his head.

“Jay.” he says, biting his lip. “I wish I could give this to you, man, really I do but the IV is not negotiable. What can I do to make it easier for you?”

Jay stares back at him, eyes watering.

“Stay?” he finally whispers and Kevin puts his hand over the one still resting on his arm.

“Done.” he promises. “Not going anywhere, bro.”

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday19 #please don't #jay halstead #chicago pd #whump fic #tw torture

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