#paramedic reader

You stood there facing the kitchen counter, staring at his prescription medicine bottles, having put his pain medicine back. Sighing heavily through your nose, you’re trying to figure out what the fuck was going on in his head. He hasn’t shown any signs of a concussion other than a headache last night. When you changed the bandage on his scalp, you saw he had a minor haircut with staples in his scalp. Must have been brain swelling and temporarily removed part of his skull. It made you wonder how long he had been in the hospital before coming home since brain swelling can last hours to days to even months before it goes down.

Do military hospitals do conservative treatment or whatever works the fastest? Probably situational.

You already feel like you’re failing Simon but you can’t force him to take anything.

Closing your eyes, images of you sitting in the hospital holding a little boy’s hand whose head is wrapped up and intubated.

“Fuck,” you gasped, literally shaking your head. Feeling tears trying to burn their way through. Took a few deep breaths to calm down.

“Ya okay?” Simon queried from inches away. You spun around, scowling at him. “What are you doing up?”

“Ya okay?” He asked again, almost hovering over you. It’s like you had forgotten how tall he was.

“I’m fine. You hungry?” You changed the topic with a small put-upon smile on your face. Simon could tell but said nothing.

“No’ really,” he admitted with a half-shrug.

“Want a smoke?” You sincerely questioned, doubting he’d had a smoke during the hospital.

“Gawd yes!” He practically exclaimed. You giggled. “Deck, please.” You point to the backdoor. Simon led the way and you stopped at his jacket, grabbing his cigarettes. That’s when you remember the gift you got him and run to your room grabbing the small gift box.

“Whe’uh ya goo, luv?” Simon called as you jogged from your room.

You shooed him outside and followed, closing the door. Simon carefully sat down at the little covered table with an ashtray in the middle you put there. You slid him his cigarettes and a small white box, advising, “Got you something.”

He slowly pulled up his balaclava uncovering his lips and nose, and stared at the box. While picking up with his uninjured hand, he held it out for you to open up. You obliged, revealing a black Zippo lighter with a white skull mask identical to his hard faceplate. His eye widened before looking up at you.

“Ya like? Figured this way anyone would know whose it is when you’re on base. It’s refillable too.” Taking it out, you flip it and show your tiny artistic signature on the back. “It’s my little artist signature. Not really identifiable but that way you won’t ever forget me,” you tried to sound like you were teasing to get out of the seriousness of the conversation and stuck your tongue out at him for good measure. Simon tried to grin, set the box down, took the lighter, and brought it close to his good eye. “I neveh forge’ ya, luv.”

You look down, feeling your face heat up a bit before grabbing the cigarette box. Ignoring it, you get one out and hold it up for Simon. He flips the Zippo open and sparks the lighter seeing it aflame. He holds it up, lighting it. Quickly, you bring it to your lips, inhaling a few times before handing it to him. Exhaling what little smoke you inhaled, you watched him close his eyes, deeply inhale, and hold the smoke in his lungs.

“For the record, your imported fags smell good. Not only smell good but they somehow enhance your own scent,” you observed, keeping a straight face. He tilted his head, staring at you and exhaling at you. “Aren’t you a cheeky fucker.”

You giggled and grinned wide, sticking your tongue out at him. “I’m a sassy bitch. What else is new?”

Simon doesn’t respond but seems to be staring at you. You look at him, only to realize he’s looking behind you. Turning, you look over your shoulder. “Like it?”

“Pictures don’ do t’justice, luv. It’s gorgeous.”

You looked down at the table and gave a restrained smile, feeling your cheeks warm rapidly. You can even feel your ears warm.

Simon watched you as he smoked. He loved seeing your blush. It makes your freckles pop. He wanted to touch and kiss each one, count them across your body. He wonders how far your blush travels—Fuck, the boyfriend, he remembered and mentally groaned.

The moment he read you had a boyfriend, he became ‘a downright grump’ for days, according to Soap. Inhaling deeply and exhaling before taking the last inhale of the cigarette. He pushes it away for now. “Ya should see eev any uhv veh neighbors wan ya t’do veir yard.” He grabbed his pack of cigarettes after stubbing out one he had in the ashtray.

“I just finished almost two weeks ago. I’m taking a break. It’s a lot of physical and mental work,” you advised and reminded. “Besides, right now I’m taking care of you. I don’t want to do anything until you’re doing much better.” He scoffs. “I ain’t doin’ vat bad.”

You leveled a look at him. “Simon, you have a brain injury, sweetie; they did a craniotomy to prevent pressure developing on your brain. It was so swollen. They probably created a pocket on your upper abdomen to keep the bone alive while your brain healed,” you explained, eyes squinted and lips frowned as you tried to make him understand the severity. “You had a constant headache for hours last night that only the pain meds helped and you now refuse them because why?” You lean forward. “They don’t work well? Don’t you like how the meds make you feel? It’s Tylenol. It’s over the counter. What? Just don’t like taking meds?” You paused before adding sternly, “Don’t you dare believe you deserve this pain? No one does. I would know.”

Simon looked behind you in silence to your question and offered answers. You rest both your hands on his good forearm. “Whatever the reason is, Simon.” He slowly met your gaze. “Your injury isn’t a punishment. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He scoffs, looking away. “Whatever you’re thinking right now, Simon Riley. You’re wrong,” you rationalize with conviction.

“Ya don’ know wot ‘appened. Stop actin’ leek ya dew.”

You stood up so fast the seat nearly fell over as you walked back inside, closing the door behind you. Simon thought you stopped away at his words, making his chest ache. Thinking he hurt you.

Meanwhile, you were looking around for the paperwork Captain Price gave you, you took your notebook and the paperwork. Took it back outside and made sure to sit back next to Simon, practically throwing it at him. His eye widened at your return and his eyebrow furrowed at the notebook.

“Read it,” you demanded. “I have notes on everything. I have what your paperwork said and what your mates said. Go ahead. Read it.” Crossing your arms and leaning back in the seat, waiting.

Simon opened up the notebook and skimmed over the discharge paperwork. He saw your notes about the approximate times he took medication at the hospital, according to Kyle. In addition to food, he’d been able to keep in. He ignored all the instructions and moved on to the notebook. The first page is a title page making him smile with a small snort. You ignored him. He flipped to see a table of contents you started on. He flips a few more pages before seeing ‘Day One’ notes—

————————📒

Day One

Cause of injury per witness

Capt —

In the Humvee, he was driving with Ghost up front with him as they headed to exfil when Ghost suddenly grabbed the steering wheel and attempted to force the vehicle to swerve unsuccessfully. The passenger front tire went over an IED and activated with Simon getting the brunt of the force and injury. Gaz and Soap were thrown from the vehicle only getting scrapes and bruises. Because of Ghost’s body position, he essentially received injury for two people since his body took the majority of the blast. Price only had a few cracked ribs and a bump on the head. Everyone else had minor injuries except for Ghost.

Soap—

He corroborated Capt’s story from his perspective. He did not see the IED. He was talking to Gaz in the backseat and felt the vehicle swerve before he found himself on the ground in the dust, sore and aching. Gaz was stated to be feeling the same as him—sore and aching. He stated they both got up and went to find Price and Ghost. They found Ghost on Price, a few feet away from the Humvee. He saw the front passenger side blown to smithereens. He was scared that Ghost was dead but he should have known better. He and Gaz started doing typical medic checks. Price cracked a few ribs since (the concussive blast) Ghost was pushed into Price (his perspective and assumption from positions found). Ghost was unconscious for days and they kept scanning his head. The right side of his face, shoulder, and part of his chest were all black, not even blue or purple. Just black. He had to have some kind of brain surgery and was in the ICU the rest of the time. When his brain got better, they did surgery again and it took him a while to wake up on his own. It was weeks before they finally let him leave. That’s when Price called Ralph and they’re where they are now.

Gaz—

He corroborated both stories; however, he advised that Ghost was only found partially on Price. (That explains his cracked ribs.) He also stated that Ghost didn’t wake up until after the first surgery which was within 24 hours of the accident. He was unconscious due to brain swelling and the doctors were worried about permanent damage. Once he woke up, they waited a few days to see how he was recovering and redid scans. It was like a week (5-6 days est) before they did the second operation. He still has a TBI. The medicines are to help with pain, inflammation, speed up recovery from the TBI/Concussion, and aid with any possible symptoms for mental health and mood. He said to call him if I have any issues with Simon and his medicine arises.

Approx hospital time: 1-2 weeks.

Medicines—

Amandatine 100mg 2/day (200mg)— improve pace of functional recovery

Busprione 10mg 2/day (20mg) — anxiety or similar symptoms (cut into 1/4s of ~2.5mg each to allow up to 20mg/day PRN)

Modafinil 100mg (100 1st week, 200 onward) 2 in morn — alertness, dopamine, anti-fatigue

Celexa 20mg daily in morn (20mg) — Depression and anxiety (monitor symptoms)

Gabapentin 300mg 2/day (600mg) — nerve pain

Prazosin 1mg (up to 5mg) per night (1-5mg) — ptsd nightmares, headaches, recovery

Melatonin 1mg (up to 10mg) per night (1-10mg) — falling asleep (monitor tolerance and wakefulness in the night and next morn)

Tylenol 1000mg/4-6hrs PRN for pain (need fluid to flush kidneys)

Tramadol 50mg/ 8hrs —PRN pain

RIGHT SIDE INJURY—

Recovery symptoms of TBI/Severe concussion

Physical: Headaches, dizziness/vertigo, nausea, fatigue, insomnia, hypersomnia

Sensory: blurry vision, tinnitus, sensitivity to bright light and loud sounds

Cognitive: Brain fog, difficulty concentrating, Memory problems

Emotional: decreased frustration tolerance, depression, anxiety, mood fluctuations, emotional volatility

Recovery symptoms of torn rotator cuff (4-6mo recovery)

Pain, soreness, stiffness, inflammation, clicking/clacking, limited range of motion,

Probably need to do STR PT

Recovery symptoms of closed proximal fractured humerus, and closed fractured and dislocated ulna (possible torn ligament) bones

Fractured humerus (6-12 weeks)

Pain, swelling, bruising, stiffness, muscle weakness, grinding/clicking,

Closed distal fractured and dislocated ulna [possible torn ligament] (3-6+ mo, complex)

Muscle weakness, swelling, stiffness

Unusable, no weight until approved by doctor PERIOD!!

Probably need PT, up to 2 years for full strength and flexibility to return

After 6mo may return to work but may have restrictions

Recovery symptoms for large area, severe (black & blue) bruising (RICE; 3-6+ weeks)

Pain, soreness, stiffness, inflammation, limited mobility (distance and/or weight)

Rest, ice, compression, elevation!!

When to take to hospital—

Fever 100.4 F/37 C or higher

Numbness, tingling, blue or grey (maybe purple?) fingernails or skin

Hands feel cold and shouldn’t

Sling feels tight even after adjustment (means new inflammation/swelling)

Increased pain in injuries or new bruising elsewhere

Note: Review discharge instructions for medicine times and instructions during Day One.

Call number in FIVE DAYS to set up a doctor appointment/schedule.

Home visits available?

Home PT available?

It is okay! He is home! He is safe! YOU ARE A LICENSED PARAMEDIC!! You got this!! All else fails, get Ralph. lol!

Should I bring my license with me to the Dr appt?

Text Sebastian about Simon being home and the situation (or did Ralph do that and I forgot?)

Sebastian and Simon need to meet (get along?)

————————-📒

As Simon read, you watched his face. You also didn’t think about all the comments and reminders you had put in the notebook. Determined to prove him wrong that you know what’s going on and how to do this shit.

“Ya sure ya not military?” He teased, smirking.

“I thought about it but it was hard for me as a teen to lose weight so I didn’t go,” you admitted. His brows furrowed, leaning back and looking at you with a quirked brow.

“I’m an on-call paramedic for the volunteer county fire department. I’m required to maintain the ability to deadlift 100-150 pounds in confined spaces. I have much more muscle than I used to as a teenager. I was much thicc-er then. I jog 2 miles like three or four times a week. When I get tired, I do a brisk walk as recommended to maintain endurance per my training,” you explained further.

“Ya a paramedic?” His eye were wide and his eyebrow raised as much as he could without pain. You grinned and nodded. “Yeah, have been this whole time. I’m on-call only, so when there is a major accident or multiple people injured, I’m called to the site; otherwise, I just do what I need to do to maintain my license.”

Simon stared at you. “I’ve never seen ya doo any’ing uhv vis,” he pointed out.

You laugh at his words. “The landscaping project worked as a means to maintain endurance and some strength so I didn’t need to jog or walk. I checked with the Fire Chief. Besides, you’re not home often and I like hanging out with you. I’d rather have to push myself to get back where I need to be than miss out on spending time with you when you’re here.”

Simon felt warm and almost gooey inside when you said home. Knowing you view his home as your home just did something to him. Suddenly, he wondered where your boyfriend was, not that he wanted to meet or talk about him. He knew he was going to have to, knowing you.

Yawning, your eyes fluttered for a few seconds as you pushed through the tiredness. “Hey, let’s go inside. You’ve been out here too long anyway. Need to get that leg up and you need to rest.” You pushed the seat out and stood up, stretching.

Simon watched you as you moved and noticed your shirt rising up. It was the first time he had noticed the stretch marks on your abdomen. He liked them. They reminded him of tiger stripes which suited you. He grabbed the notebook and papers, following you inside.

An hour later, your medicine alarm went off and you tried again. Simon took it without hesitation. You thanked him and smiled. He rolled his eyes and waved his hand at you to drop it. You turned and went into the fridge to grab a brownie you made as a reward. You didn’t say that but why not?

“Ooo, browneh,” his voice deepened as he spoke and his eye widened happily. He didn’t question why you gave it to him and ate it with periodic happy hums.

While he was licking his fingertips, you turned away from feeling your face warm. “Dude, next time I give you a treat, I’m leaving the room. It’s like you had sex with it. Oh my god. I get foodgasms but,” you shook your head and you flipped through the TV channel guide.

Simon grinned widely, his teeth somewhat brown from the brownie. “I jus’ wan’ed t’make soor ya knew ‘ow good t’was.”

You glanced at him and deadpanned, “I know how good they are. I made them.” You chose one of the RDJ Sherlock Holmes movies.

“Ya do know I’m from U K, dontcha luv?” He teased before, with your help, switched positions to lay his head in your lap.

You looked down and ignored his teasing. “This would be more comfortable without the mask, ya know.” He turned and looked up at you. “Go ahead.”

Carefully, you slip your fingers under the balaclava and gingerly pull it over his face. He lifts his head a bit and you pull it out from behind. The bandage looks good, with no drainage or blood seeping through. You laid the mask down on his chest and scratched what you could touch on the uninjured side of his head. You looked down at him. “I need you to get better,” your tone suddenly going serious. You don’t know why but the words just tumbled out on their own. “When Ralph told me, it scared me.” Simon took your hand in his. “I’m sorry. Didn’ mean ta.”

“I know. I also understand that you’re like on some kind of special ops thing where y’all do all sorts of dangerous shit. It’s part of the job but this.” You wave your hand down his injured side. “Is not what I meant by staying functional,” you teased. He huffs a chuckle before squeezing your hand. “I’m still he’e.”

“And a lot can still go wrong, Simon.” You cup his uninjured cheek with your free hand. “You’re considered to have a highly complex injury because there are multiple injuries and a traumatic brain injury on top of that. The giant area of bruising alone probably made them hesitate to send you home. They probably did multiple full-body scans with and without contrast to confirm it was only bruising and not internal bleeding.”

Simon watched your face as you spoke. Brows furrowed, lips frowning, and your pupils receded to pinpoints as you spoke. He knew by your words that there was more to your past that made you so afraid of him getting injured. “Vey did do a lot uhv scans. Wouldn’ ‘ave been sent ‘ome if it wasn’ okay t’be home, luvie.”

Your hand returned to scratch and play with his hair. “Doctors are human, even military ones. They can make mistakes. You have to talk to me if anything and I mean anything feels strange or changes either in feeling or look. You gotta promise me, Simon.”

He squeezed your hand as he promised, “I promise.” He kissed your knuckles, repeating “I promise” after each kiss. You grinned, face heating up, and eyes softened at his affection. “Simon.”

“Wot? I can’ be a’ectionate wiv me friend and flat’ma’e.” You give him a knowing look, pointing out this is more than that. “We don’t have a normal friendship, do we?”

“Considerin’ ‘ow I met ya, probably not.”

You grinned and giggled. “You helped a lot more that night than you probably know.”

“I’m glad I met ‘n know ya,” Simon freely admitted. You leaned down and kissed his forehead. “Me too. Me too.”

The next day, you saw a day-old text from Sebastian and instantly felt guilty. You looked to the bathroom, knowing Simon was doing his morning routine, modified. You knew you were emotionally cheating on Sebastian with Simon, or maybe, it was really the other way around. Could you not know you and Simon are actually dating?

That’s so stupid. Fuck my life. Wait, I texted him about Sebastian but he didn’t reply. He said he read my texts so he knows.

You’re getting tired of the ‘man pushing the woman into sex’ issue. You need to confront him at least on the phone and not by text.

Opening Sebastian’s text: Morning, beautiful. How are you?

You smile and reply: I’m okay. A bit tired since I’m taking care of Simon due to his complex injury. Making sure he takes meds on time and eats and whatnot. Mother henning, basically.

Sebastian ❤️: Ralph told me he came home and was really hurt. That you might be hard to reach and not drop by since he got injured during active duty.

You sigh relieved that she talked to him.

You: That pretty much sums it up. 😘

Sebastian ❤️: you taking care of yourself too?

You grin widely.

You: Yes, I have a schedule for meds, food, rest/naps, and being outside. I follow it too. It’s adapted to my own typical schedule. With Simon’s limited mobility, he won’t be comfortable leaving the house for weeks. I know he won’t use any assistance other than a person. Might be able to convince him in a month or so but that’s hit or miss.

Sebastian ❤️: 🫂 Sounds like a lot. Need any help? Is Ralph helping you?

You: Well, taking care of someone with a TBI and multiple physical injuries, can be overwhelming, but with my paramedic training, I’m good. I’m more worried about his health from being stuck at home and the TBI. The physical injuries, unless he falls or gets hurt again, should heal fine…unless something was missed. Probably need PT. Doesn’t mean I’m not worried but nowhere near as much as I am about his mind. He’s highly intelligent and a lieutenant. He needs a lot more to do than watch TV and read.

Sebastian ❤️: We were talking about getting a few games to play. Maybe you can do that too? I’m happy to get a few and bring them over. You can introduce me and we can get to know each other over a game or two.

You stare at his message and pout. You have no idea if Simon is competitive or not. Sebastian was, which is why you will only play cooperative games with him.

You: I’m sorry but no. It’ll be a while before he can even handle being up more than a couple of hours.

Sebastian ❤️: I didn’t think about that. Didn’t realize it could be that way. I’m up for trying to video chat. I miss you, baby doll. What’s a TBI?

You glare at his text and roll your eyes before replying.

You: Traumatic Brain Injury. A concussion is a TBI, usually mild but this isn’t.

Meanwhile, Simon came out of his ensuite bathroom, leaving the door open, in a new set of comfortable clothes—soft white socks, blue and white plaid pajama pants, and a black T-shirt. His arm is not in its sling, so he walks over to you, watching your face, to get help putting it back on.

“Hey, birdie,” he called.

You looked up from your phone and smiled brightly at him. “Hey. Feeling good?” You looked him over, top to bottom and back again. “You look like you feel better.”

“I do.” He held out the sling and his injured arm.

“Told you I made it to where you could shower,” you pointed out again.

“Vat was—“

“Shower chairs do take a bit to get used to but does help with mobility issues.” Your phone vibrated in your hand, so you looked down, frowning. “Hang on and I’ll help you with the sling.”

Sebastian ❤️: Are you safe to take care of him? I mean he’s huge and very military from the pics I’ve seen.

Your face fell and glared at your phone again.

“Everyvin’ okay?” He inquired and carefully sat down next to you, looking at your phone screen.

“Yeah,” you deadpan while typing into your cell:

You: Really?! If you’re questioning my judgment of character, look in the mirror. 🙄

You set the phone down and scoff. “I’m fucking tired of him second-guessing me, like my judgement or gut is wrong. I mean a romantic relationship. There’s gonna be ups and downs. Even if he yells or calls a bunch, people deal with their anxieties differently. I can’t really—”

“‘E shouldn’ be yellin’ at ya,” Simon tried to sound matter-of-factly but came out slightly growly.

“I’m aware but everyone has anxieties and fears that trigger a stress response. It’s normal. No, it isn’t always healthy but it happens. It takes time for any relationship to get its kinks out, for people to understand triggers, standards, expectations, and boundaries.. It’s only been a few months,” you explained matter-of-factly.

Simon turned toward you as you spoke “We didn’,” he pointed out.

You opened your mouth before closing it. Pressing your lips thin before finally pointing out, “You and me aren’t in a romantic relationship, Simon.” You stood up and grabbed the sling.

“We could be,” he quietly commented. You froze for a few moments as Simon held his arm in the position for you. Carefully, you put it back on him. Pretending you didn’t hear him. Once it was secure, you two looked at each other.

Both of you thought the same thing in that moment: what the fuck am I doing?

Simon held up his mask as you looked around. Taking it from him, you rolled it up like before; gingerly rolling it down over his head and face before tucking it under his shirt. The compression was helping with pain.

That reminded you of all the stuff Simon sent you. You think he sent you. You asked, “Hey, why did you buy all that stuff? The books and whatnot?”

Simon’s eyes remained on you. “Why not? Did ya not leek any uhv-em?”

“No, no, it was wonderful. I love all of it. Thank you so so much.” You paused, fiddling with his shirt sleeve and the sling. “It’s just a lot of money.”

“If I want t’bouy ya vings, I’m goin’ ta,” he stated firmly.

Your face warmed at his words. “Okay, fine.” Simon half smirked. You added, “Just realize we have a finite amount of space in this house.” He followed your eyes and looked around. He saw another bookshelf was needed. He’d just make you one, but being injured, he’ll have to settle for buying a good one. He pulled out his phone with his good hand and began looking around online. You rolled your eyes and headed into the kitchen to figure out lunch.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Simon “Ghost” Riley X Reader Subscribers:

You had been waiting for the light to turn green at an intersection when a blur to your left startled you, followed by the sound of tires squealing and the loud crash of metal against metal. A moment later, you saw two cars ahead on opposite sides of the road. The black one had a broken windshield, and the driver side doors were dented from where you guessed the red one, with the bent bumper and broken right headlight, had impacted.

When you finally caught up on what was happening, you didn't waste more time. All thoughts about rest and relaxation were forgotten as you started to assess the scene. You turned your blinkers on and moved your car, making sure there were no other cars about to crash on you and close enough to have a better view of the damage. Unfortunately, you didn't get the chance to examine both cars further as you watched the red one take the road again and flee the scene. You stopped your car and got out to check on the people inside the black car.

Approaching carefully, you went to check first on the driver's seat. Inside the black car was a single person. The woman, probably in her mid-twenties, wearing a sleeveless dress, with dark hair, pale skin, and who looked strangely familiar, was lying back on her seat with eyes closed. You took your phone from one of your pockets and called the emergency number.

As you described what had happened to the dispatcher, you examined the woman's condition as best as you could giving them a picture, as clear as possible, about it. She didn't seem to move but her breathing was steady. The crash might have not been as severe as there were no signs of cuts or wounds visible. However, with the airbag in front of her already losing it's shape, you noticed her left arm had a purple bruise. You moved the rest of the airbag with care and grimaced as you watched how big it was. It could be a sing of fracture.

The call was quick and after confirming your location the dispatcher told you there was an ambulance already on its way. In the meantime, you did what you knew best.

"Miss, can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?" You said before trying to move the woman. When you didn't get a response, you opened the door and tried shaking her gently in the shoulders. A pair of dazzling green eyes fluttered open, focusing with some difficulty on you. You put your hands on her neck and face for support. "Do you know what happened to you?"

The touch of your hands seemed to shake her a bit, her eyes closing and opening again as if thinking this was some kind of hallucination. Something you imagined was the effect of the shock.

"Oh, you're pretty." The woman said with a drowsy voice.

A little smile formed in the corner of your lips. It wasn't the first time you had received a compliment like that. She was also an undeniably beautiful woman and you would have responded accordingly, had it not been for the current circumstances. Now you feared she had suffered a concussion.

As she saw the little smile in your face, the woman's clouded mind cleared in an instant. Her eyes grew bigger with surprise. It wasn't a thought she was supposed to voice out loud. Her head had felt foggy, as if waking up after a long nap in a bed made of rocks and rusty nails and it didn't help that she had started to feel a little headache, making her almost incapable of forming orderly thoughts, until she realized what she had said.

"Thanks." You managed in the end. "What's your name?"

"Lena." She said with a grunt, like she was finally realizing where she was and what was happening. "Lena Luthor."

At the mention of her name something clicked inside your brain. Of course you recognized Lena Luthor. Besides being one of the richest people in the planet, she was a very active philanthropist. She had made great donations and participated countless times in the charities the hospital you worked in organized. You made a mental note to thank her after all of this but, in the meantime, you proceeded like any other case.

"Alright, Lena. My name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), I'm a paramedic. An ambulance is already on the way, so I need you to stay with me, okay?"

All my life if you want, Lena thought along with some other things she was aware enough to keep to herself, only giving a small nod in understanding.

You started placing your hands in her neck, her shoulders, her back, and so on, asking if she could feel anything or if she was feeling any pain or discomfort. Most of the time the answer was negative as she only seemed to have a mild headache and some pain on her neck but, as the adrenaline and shock were wearing off, she slowly came to notice the the actual amount of pain in her body, especially in her left arm.

"Any pain here?" You said once you reached her arm.

She winced with a little yelp and for a second tried to pull her arm away.

"Sorry, sorry." You took her arm again in a gentler way, trying to move the rest of the airbag out of the way, placing her arm to a better position and your other hand under hers. "Okay, we are not gonna move from there. Can you feel your fingers?"

Lena nodded, trying to close her fingers around your hand. "Yeah, I can feel them."

"Okay." You moved your other hand, feeling her arm with soft touches. You still weren't sure if her arm was broken but anyway you needed to cover it. "I need to go get some padding for-"

"No, please." Lena quickly said. "I-I don't want to be left alone."

There was fear clear in her eyes and you almost hit your own forehead. For what you had heard around, most of the visits Lena Luthor had ever made to a hospital had been after a direct attempt on her life. With a crazy family and half the city against her, of course, she was scared.

"Alright, don't worry. Once the ambulance is here, we are going to give you something for the pain, get your arm splinted up and take you to the hospital. I promise I'm not leaving, okay?" You said with another little smile, reassuring Lena as much as possible.

"Thank you." She stopped holding her breath.

You tried to make some small talk as you waited, making more questions about trivial things to make sure she was alert and hadn't suffered brain damage. While doing so, you learned that Lena Luthor, for all the things the media some times tried to feed you about her and her family, was a nice person. She was answering every question you threw at her as best as she could, even making some charming remarks from time to time that you found kind of cute. Mostly, you were relieved to confirm she was in good shape.

The ambulance and police sirens could be heard on the distance and a moment later you had to step away to let the team of paramedics work. You recognized your coworkers as they came to your aid. You had to step aside to talk to the police about the incident, giving them the best description you could about the hit and run before some details faded from your memory and were glad to leave them to their own thing as you watched the other paramedics finally pull Lena out of her car.

They were moving her to the stretcher and towards the ambulance when you went to do a final check on her. She seemed calmer, probably thanks to the painkillers they had provided her, and a bit paler, which made you a little worried, but you were relieved to see her arm was already being taken care of. You had thought that was the end of your night and were about to leave Lena's side when she called you.

"(Y/N)?" She said as she was about to be loaded into the ambulance.

"Yes?" You frowned for a moment in confusion but got a bit closer to hear her through the sound of people moving around.

"Could you stay with me?" She asked with pleading eyes.

Somewhere, on the back of her mind, Lena knew this was nothing more than the effect of the drugs in her system. There was no other reason to keep you there, you had helped her so much, calling for help, attending her injuries, and making sure the medical team could take another look at her. And maybe that was the exact same reason she wanted you around for a little longer.

You raised both eyebrows in surprise, and the couple of paramedics did the same as they looked at each other and then at you.

"Well, I-" You hesitated for a moment but considering who was asking, and that the cutest puppy eyes you had ever seen were looking at you, you gave in. Part of you wouldn't admit it yet, but you had somehow grown fond of Lena in such a little time and you still had to thank her for all she had done. "Sure."

Since you couldn't just leave your car behind, you decided to follow the ambulance to the hospital where Lena was brought into the ER. She was placed in a bed and you sat by her side, waiting for the nurses to do a check up.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this." Lena spoke after an awkward moment of silence, realizing she may have overstepped your boundaries.

Considering her state of mind, she hadn't really thought this through but your presence seemed to soothe her better than the painkillers and that was all she had known at the moment.

"Don't be. I figured it was the least I could do for our biggest sponsor." You said this time with a bit of a tired smile, feeling the exhaustion of the night.

Your weary expression didn't go unnoticed by Lena who also didn't have the chance to ask what you had meant as the nurse and doctor entered the room. They started by asking her more questions and checking her vitals. When they noticed you there, still in uniform, the doctor figured you were one of the paramedics that had brought Lena and told you they would take it from there.

"She can stay, doctor." Lena's tone made it seem almost like and order. "She's a friend."

You were a bit surprised by her answer but both nurse and doctor nodded their agreement and moved on, probably because they knew by now who they were treating.

They moved Lena's arm again to take some x-rays and, through all the wincing and grunting, you instinctively took her hand in yours and you had no idea how much she appreciated the gesture. It had been a long time since another person had offered her a hand in comfort and even a longer time since she had let someone take care of her like this.

It was early morning when after all the necessary medical checks were done, you left the ER pushing a very tired and very beaten up Lena, with a cast in her arm, in a wheelchair through the hospital doors and into the chill of the night. As you pushed the chair outside, you took a moment, taking of your jacket and putting it over her shoulders.

"Here." You said and started pushing the wheelchair into the parking lot. "Now, we better get you home before it gets colder."

"Wait, (Y/N)." Lena said as you were approaching your car. "You don't have to, you have already done so much."

"It's okay. Like I said, it's the least I could do."

"For your biggest sponsor?" Lena asked.

"Yeah, I guess." You said remembering you wanted to thank her for that. "You may not remember but, last year, you made some big donations to every hospital in National City, Miss Luthor. Including the one I work for. That helped a lot of people so, yeah, this is just me trying to repay for all those you have helped."

"Then, if that's what it takes for you to take me home, I'll make sure to make more of those donations." Lena said, forgetting to keep those bits of inner thoughts to herself.

You stopped then, like finally realizing how unusual the situation was. An off-shift paramedic taking care of a car accident patient, accompanying her all the way to the ER, waiting all night beside her as her medical test were done, and taking her home afterwards, like it was the most natural thing to do.

You rounded Lena's chair and crouched in front of her. "It's not just the donations, Lena."

She got worried she had overstepped again but seeing the way your eyes were looking into hers, and the way you had said her name, made Lena feel secure once more.

"I cannot tell you how or why but I have ever done this with anyone I have ever met." You said with a sheepishly smile.

"Maybe we could discover it together." She tried. "Around a cup of coffee, once we reach my home? I mean, since you already have been with me all night. How does that sound?"

You seemed to ponder it for a moment and then you offered your hand. "Sounds like a good deal."

Lena took your hand in hers once more, closing what felt like the best bargain she had ever done in her life and hoping it would last exactly that.

Over the course of one afternoon your entire life changed, and kept changing.

Simon got hurt.

Bad.

Raphaela told you.

You went shopping for things you would need to care for Simon as he recovered from his injuries—whatever they were. Researching about Manchester and its foods. That was a rabbit hole you had fun going down. Pain meds can be harsh on the stomach.

She recommended getting your paramedic stuff in order, replacing anything you might need, just in case.

The fire house you volunteered at always had extra, so you talked to the Fire Chief and explained the situation. The Fire Chief agreed to your request unless major incidents occurred. You agreed,

Simon needed you. You were gonna make sure you would do your best.

Once Simon came home, you met Taskforce 141.

Captain John Price. Could be anyone’s dad. He’s sweet and kind. He’s stern, gives orders, and expects to be followed. He loves cigars and fishing from what his clothes told you. His brown eyes have seen a lot. His salt and pepper brown hair is very telling of his stress tolerance. His mustache gives away his age but well taken care of. He also is the one who gives you just enough details to appease your worries as to what happened to Simon and to make sure you are able to take care of him. He also briefly advised what happened to Simon while in ICU.

Saw Johnny again—Sergeant John MacTavish. He was ever the flirt. Turning your face red throughout the afternoon. Raphaela had to come to your rescue a few times so he’d stop. You liked the attention. The man had such amazing blue eyes that capture you and a fucking war-hawk, as he called it. He made you laugh a lot. He explained what happened to Simon too.

Sergeant Kyle Garrick was lean, pretty, confident, and very well put together. He’s excellent at reading a room, and saved you a few times from the flirting Scotsman. He came and helped you with Simon. While you two got Simon settled, he explained what happened, too, in much more detail than the others.

Simon.

Simon—whose head was wrapped up, heavily bruised face bare, and had a moderate concussion aka Traumatic Brain Injury. Whose left eye was swollen shut, and so purple, it was black. The swelling and bruising spread down the left side of his face. So much bruising. It made you internally cringe at the sight, knowing from experience how much that hurt and took to recover from.

He was wobbly from the pain medication the hospital gave him. You had him get set up on the couch in a sitting position on the ends closest to the front door, so he could go to his room or the bathroom easier. Thankfully, the couch—on both ends— has built-in recliners. He’s in military blue sweats, matching hospital socks, and a military blue zip-up hoodie with a plain white t-shirt underneath.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to do anything. It was unexpected to see him being around so many people without a mask—even if it is his squad or friends, at least initially.

To you, it was strange and made you wonder if he was okay without it. The problem was he wasn’t talking.

Once dinner was done cooking and Ralph was making bowls for everyone, handling the meal. You went into Simon’s room and looked around his drawers until you found where he stashed his balaclavas. He had an entire drawer full. Feeling the material, you felt for the stretchiest one and walked back to him. You work on stretching it out further around the left side.

When Johnny sees what you’re doing, he stopped talking and watched you.

You are so focused on making sure Simon was cared for and protected properly, you don’t notice being stared at.

Simon was awake and alert. He was silently watching everyone, just like at the party, and confused by Soap’s reaction.

Your gut told you right now he needed his mask, his armor. You don’t know why but your gut never led you wrong in your life. You stood in front of him. His head shifts slightly, looking up at you.

You work the balaclava into a roll of sorts before squatting down in front of him with a small smile. “Hey,” you quietly greeted

He whispered, “Y’alright?” You smiled widely at him and nodded.

Johnny smacked Kyle before pointing. Simon hadn’t spoken a word since before the incident. He’s only grunted. Price watched you. Ever curious how you’ve ensnared his silent, hypervigilant, and brooding Lieutenant.

You showed Simon the rolled up mask. He glanced at it, face unreadable, then back to you and grunted with a slight nod. Standing up, you walked to his side and slowly began to roll the balaclava down, trying to gently apply the compression. “Should help the swelling and pain, too,” you quietly informed him.

Rolling it down the back of his head easily, the front was a bit challenging as you slowly walked around, mindful of his left leg. Made certain the balaclava sat correctly on his face. Once it was fully covered, you made sure it spread out correctly down his neck and tucked it under his shirt. You felt him begin to relax under hands.

Bent over, hands resting on your thighs. Meeting his one opened eye and grinned. “There’s my Simon,” you quietly exhaled, eyes bright and smiling soft. “I’m glad you’re home. I missed ya.” You cup his uninjured cheek, slightly rubbing it. He unconsciously leaned into your touch. He seemed to be giving a small smile from the way his one good eye wrinkles and cheek shifts up.

“You’re gonna be ok. You got me. I’m a very good caretaker if I may say so myself,” you boasted, trying to be a bit silly at the end.

“It’s true,” Ralph piped in. “Took care of me and Wolf when we got Covid..like three times.”

The taskforce looked at the two with raised eyebrows. Raphaela shrugged. “Eat up, boys.” She and Wolf dug into dinner. The taskforce returned to the dinner table and chatter started up again.

“I’ll be right back,” you made sure he knew and slipped your hand from his face. He watched you leave. His cheek felt cold. Wondering what you were doing. He craved to set you in his lap and hold you against him. He hated how weak he knew he was right now.

You returned with two bowls and a big water cup with a straw. He noted that one bowl had silverware. You set the bowls on the coffee table and the drink on the end table next to his right hand. He had difficulty leaning forward to see the inside of both bowls. One was obviously what everyone else was eating but the other seemed empty.

This was the bowl you picked up and held up so he could see. It appeared to be cut up bread with some kind of spread on it. “Marmite on toast,” you informed. “I read up on sick day foods Mancs prefer. It’s ok if you don’t.” Simon’s one good eye widened, peering at you. You motion with your chin the drink. “That’s flat ginger ale with lemon and honey tea and a few splashes of whisky. Proper sick day brew.” You spoke as if proper and his chest warmed at your dedication. He didn’t deserve you, deserve your care.

Oh, how he wanted to hold you against him!

Ralph choked on her food. Looked up wide eyed at you.

“You holdin’ out on me, Lucy,” she gasped, funny sounding like a bad 1940s gangster impersonation.

You glared at the woman and quirked a brow. “It’s fer the sick, Ethel. Go buoy yer own,” you demanded through gritted teeth with no heat before sticking out your tongue at her. She snorted and giggled before returning to her conversation.

Wolf and the three men at the table exchanged looks. Wolf, of course, silently explained this was normal behavior between you two. The three military men accepted this silent communication and kept eating. Simon just observed and noted it.

“Before I was rudely interrupted.” You look at Simon with a soft smile. “So, I looked up Manc’s favorite sick day foods online, and then watched way too many YouTube videos by people who sound a lot like you. I learned what marmite is and how to make proper beans on toast. I even learned American options to make a proper English breakfast.”

Listening to you speak, and seeing your wide grin—very proud of yourself—about what you did for him, confused the man. “Why?” His voice was deep and hoarse questioned.

Tilting your head to one side, your brow furrowed and frowning. “What do you mean ‘why’?” After a couple of seconds, you explain in a serious tone, “You’re hurt, Simon. One of the best ways to heal, other than medicine, is to be home with people you love and who love you, and taken care of so you don’t have to heal alone. You need a lot of rest, sleep, and care. That’s why.”

Suddenly returned to the previous topic, “Oh! Also, with Manc favorite foods, especially comfort foods. I got the tomato soup brand that was recommended by a few of those YouTubers with the cheese too. I made sure to get white bread for the toast. You Mancs are weird. White bread? Ew.”

Simon huffed a laugh but tensed up at the pain on his left side, right hand immediately pressing on his left side ribs. You waited until he relaxed again before doing or saying anything else

He slowly allowed himself to relax and leaned back into the seat. His chest warmed and ached at what you’d done just to make him feel better. He took your free hand in his, raised it to his covered mouth, and kissed the top of it. You shyly looked down and turn so red that your freckles can be easily seen.

He leans forward and says, “Vank ya, luvie.”

You giggle and squeeze his hand with a shake of your head. “You’re welcome but you didn’t need to say that…or do that. I want you to feel better, sweetie.” You shrug. “What better way than foods your mom would make when you’re sick as a kid?”

Everyone but Wolf and you tensed at your words. The taskforce waited to see how Ghost reacted, unsure if you knew or not about any of his past.

Simon forced himself to relax at those words, knowing you don’t know. It was so touching how you wanted to remind him of good things. “She did,” he hoarsely agreed. “She’d, uh,” he began as he worked to remember bits and pieces. “She made me an’ me brover marmi’e-n-toast an’ tea when sick.” He nodded. “Safe, birdie.”

“Glad I could help. Eat up. I gotta go blow up the comfy air mattress,” you advised and kissed his unscathed cheek.

Once everyone left, it was just Simon and you, lying on a pillow topped king sized air mattress with super soft sheets and comfy pillows. You helped wipe Simon down in a pseudo bath, just to make him feel a bit cleaner. You left him alone to do his man parts and finish set up the bed.

Right now, you two were watching Blue Planet II—a documentary you noticed Simon would have on in the background. He sat, eyes on the screen with his back against the couch. The couch acting like a headboard of sorts. With you pressed into his right side, holding his hand, and your head on his thigh.

You had a notebook and his discharge papers folding up next to you on the floor. You made a plan of action with alarms on your cell and all the medicine and wound care stuff sent home with him right next to you with a trash can and a box of nylon gloves. You even have your paramedic bag and equipment, just in case.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Simon “Ghost” Riley X Reader Subscribers: