#EMT: How's your pain by. the way buddy?

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 22

PREVIOUS

Y’know how sometimes you have something that you need to do or something that you know is going to happen but you just keep…putting it off? Like you know at some point it is going to happen but you put it off over and over and over and over again? You’re getting increasingly anxious every time you put it off because you know it has to get done but you also know that the longer you wait the worse it is going to get. Finally, FINALLY, the anxiety is just a little too much and you end up having to deal with it.

You finally deal with it and the whole ordeal takes maybe five minutes tops and it was in no way shape or form worth the level of anxiety that you put yourself through. Like you worried about this for a good and long while and it wasn’t even that bad?

That is currently how FF feels about being stabbed by Andrew Minyard.

This is what he was so worried about that he had lost sleep, had nightmares, had lost weight, and had exacerbated his stress ulcers over.

Getting stabbed wasn’t anywhere near as bad as he had thought it was going to be. Maybe it was the fact that it was just a single stab wound instead of the Psycho levels that he had been imagining (Wow, showers were going to be so much less stressful now that he didn’t have to confirm Andrew Minyard’s location before triple checking the lock). Maybe it was the fact that he is PUMPED full of adrenaline from his fights against Jackson and Romero but the stab wound didn’t even really hurt at the moment.

This isn’t even the worse thing that had happened to him this year!

That honor still goes to the joint winners of when his Step Family and mother found out that he had a full-ride to Palmetto and when he had tripped up the same step on the stairs at school three times in a row as people watched and laughed.

(Maybe also the solitary congratulations from his Grandma in regards to his graduation but FF doesn’t let himself think about that, won’t think about it.)

He wouldn’t necessarily call being in a state of ‘stabbed’ a pleasant time but Andrew was being so NICE about it.

“Stop trying to sit up you fucking idiot!” Andrew shouts at him.

Well….Andrew’s version of nice.

(This is the same version of nice that he had misunderstood for months at this point. Maybe FF is just enough in shock from the stab wound in his stomach that he’s starting to grasp the basics in the difficult language of Andrew Minyard’s niceness.)

Andrew had gotten off the phone with 911 and then started pulling off his own jacket before draping it over FF’s upper body, wedging his phone between his shoulder and his ear, and then Andrew started to apply pressure to his stomach wound.

Ow.

That is not a great feeling. This stabbing may eke out past the great triple trip of March 2010.

“No, take back your jacket. You’ll get cold if you don’t have it on.” FF argues because his own jacket is barely doing the job. Maybe it’s the cold pavement of the alley, maybe it’s the blood loss, or maybe it’s the cooling sweat he’d worked up but he is shivering pretty badly.

A thought occurs to him as he feels the weird wet stickiness of his own blood sticking to Nicky’s shirt. “Can you help me get my jacket off?” He asks looking pleadingly at Andrew, “It’s my dad’s. I don’t wanna mess it up with my blood.” He clarifies when Andrew looks at him like he’s a lunatic.

Except his second call must connect right then because Andrew’s answer is non-sensical to what FF had asked, “Neil, let Roland know the police and ambulances are en route.” There’s a brief pause and the pressure against his stomach increases as a muscle in Andrew’s jaw jumps. “Smith got stabbed.” He says and he looks angry, angrier than FF had ever seen Andrew when he’s talking to Captain Neil. There is another pause, more than likely Neil saying something or asking a question, “No, it wasn’t them.” Andrew grits out and the pressure on FF’s stomach hurts, “Just get out here, I need help with smith and making sure these two assholes don’t go anywhere before the police come and grab them.” He says before he pulls one hand away from Smith’s stomach (wow he really is bleeding isn’t he?) to hang up the phone.

Andrew’s gaze turns back to him fully, “You’re not moving an inch Smith, your jacket can be cleaned.” He hisses. “Now stay still and don’t fall asleep.” He orders.

Andrew seems stressed so FF complies. He can’t help but notice how Andrew’s hands seem to be shaking as the press down on his stomach. He kind of wishes he had a pillow or something for his head because he’s starting to feel a little dizzy. Andrew’s jacket would be safer from his blood if it was a pillow instead of a blanket. Still, FF would sooner die than spit on any of Andrew’s current efforts to make him more comfortable.

He looks at the knife sticking out of his stomach. Well, he might die regardless of whether or not he spits on Andrew’s efforts.

He needs to take his mind off this.

“Should we take it out and pretend the Dundee knife stabbed me instead??” FF asks letting his mind go to the first thought in his head so that he could be distracted from his own mortality. “I think it’s still under the dumpster over there.” He moves to point one of his hands towards where the knife had remained throughout this entire ordeal.

Andrew’s knee pinned his arm before he could move it, “Stop moving Smith.” Andrew reminded him before moving his knee. “We have to leave the knife in. You’ll bleed to death otherwise.” Andrew reminds.

“I guess that’s true, so do we just say that Romero got a handle on your knife and stabbed me?” He asks fighting his own shivers since he’s a little worried that any shaking on his part would just make the stab wound worse.

“I stabbed you Smith.” Andrew says looking at him with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah, I know,” FF agrees, “but we’re not going to say THAT to the cops.” He says and shock really is one HELL of a drug because he thinks he might have actually given Andrew Minyard an incredulous look with his atrophied face muscles. It’s either Shock or the knowledge that even if he irritates Andrew, what’s Andrew going to do about it?

STAB HIM?

“You’re going to lie to the cops?” Andrew asks, “I STABBED you Smith.” Andrew repeats.

“Yeah, I know!” FF repeats back, “You stabbed me on ACCIDENT.” FF makes sure to use the same intonation that Andrew had used to emphasize the word Stabbed. “Jackson wanted to stab me on PURPOSE. You saw that knife Andrew.” He tries to gesture towards the knife again but again Andrew’s knee pinned his hand.

He could use his other one but the reminder to stay still is enough.

“I still stabbed you.” Andrew says removing his knee again when it’s clear that FF wasn’t going to try and gesture again.

“Well, if I was going to get stabbed by anyone, I guess I’m glad my first time was with you.” Andrew let’s out a bark of a laugh that sounds more like it was punched out of him than anything, “Honestly, I don’t think Jackson would have given me his jacket afterwards or try and help me keep my blood in my body.” He says and it feels like a victory (not a both hands in the air victory cry level victory but it was close) when Andrew’s face settled into one of faint amusement.

“Probably not.” Andrew agreed, “He doesn’t seem big on Aftercare.” He says.

FF doesn’t know what that means but nods like he does, “So, Romero got a hold of your knife during our tussle and he’s the one who stabbed me. Okay? That’s the story I’m going to stick with no matter who asks me.” He looks Andrew in the eye.

“Alright Smith,” one of Andrew’s hands leaves his stomach and clasps around his shoulder and FF can’t help but notice how neither of Andrew’s hands are shaking anymore. “We can lie to the police.” He squeezes FF’s shoulder.

“Nice.” He says and lets his head fall back onto the concrete. He hears a siren in the distance and hopes it’s coming for him.

They sit in silence for maybe 30 seconds before the door slams open and only Andrew’s hands on his stomach and shoulder keep him from shooting straight up in a panic. Captain Neil seemed to take in the scene at lightning speed but it was Andrew who spoke first, “You left Aaron and Nicky with Roland?” He asks.

“Yeah I did,” Captain Neil confirms and FF can see the moment that his eyes land on the knife handle jutting out of FF’s stomach, “Andrew, what are we going to tell the police?” Captain Neil asks and FF could already see Neil crafting a lie to cover Andrew. That’s one of the things that FF likes about Captain Neil and Andrew’s relationship. He thinks it’s nice that both of them have someone who no matter the circumstances would be there with a shovel to help bury a body. He even thought it was nice when he thought it’d be his body!

“The second guy stabbed me.” The lie comes out smoothly which is good because he is planning on committing to it and Captain Neil blinks and looks at him, “He got hold of Andrew’s knife during the tussle.” He adds.

Captain Neil looks to Andrew, “You said it wasn’t-“

“I guess Smith can lie to a liar.” Andrew interrupts.

Captain Neil’s eyes widen before a wicked grin spread across his face that made FF just a little uncomfortable but only because Andrew’s grip on his shoulder suddenly tightened and his nostrils flared the way they did before the two usually started speaking in Russian.

He can handle being stabbed, he cannot handle being in shock and pretending that he doesn’t know what the two of them are saying to one another.

“Can you tell Nicky I’m sorry I got blood on his clothes?” He asks and both Captain Neil and Andrew’s gaze snap away from eye-fucking each other. He looks down and the clothes are black and they haven’t moved the knife so the wound is plugged still but yeah there’s definitely blood seeping into the shirt, not to mention the hole. “Could you tell him I’m sorry about that?” He asks.

“You are going to tell him yourself Smith.” Andrew hisses, “You are going to be fine. Do you understand me?” He asks before turning to Neil, “Can you bunch your jacket under his legs, it’s better to keep them higher than his head and heart?” He asks.

Aw.

Andrew is just so nice.

He can’t BELIEVE he thought Andrew wanted to hunt him for sport.

He’d apologize for thinking that but he thinks it’d be better to just let that particular misunderstanding go unmentioned.

Captain Neil bunches his jacket up and puts it under FF’s legs before he goes over to check on Romero and Jackson. In the corner of his eye he sees Captain Neil pause at the sight of Romero before moving over to Jackson.

“Why is he in these?!” Neil asks baffled.

“It’s a weird sex alley Captain Neil! I don’t know WHAT to tell you!” Yeah he’s definitely going into shock. The sirens are getting closer though so he’ll probably be okay.

***

The cops all have a bit of a laugh about Jackson’s cuffs until Neil tells them exactly who they are taking into custody. Neil could admit that he’s a little irritated with Andrew that at no point did the man clarify that the people who FF and Andrew were dealing with were Romero and Jackson.

Those are his father’s goons.

“They were here for me.” Neil says to the police officer and Andrew’s hand tightens in his, “They tried to take Smith because he’s my friend.”

They had decided on their story before the cops came. FF had no idea who any of these people were and was just defending himself. He’d gone out to catch his breath in the alley when Jackson had shown up. Neil had asked how in the world FF had handled Jackson on his own but FF must have been getting kind of loopy from blood loss because all he said was, “He told me to sing so I did.”

Neil can find out the full story later.

The important part is.

“Jackson went after Smith but Smith won the fight.” Neil says looking at where the cops are trying to decide how to get the fuzzy pink handcuffs off of Jackson to get him in the far more secure police issued handcuffs.

“Your friend said that you and he took out Romero together. That Romero is the one who stabbed him with your knife.” He says.

“Yes.” Andrew answers simply and Neil squeezes his hand as a reminder, “I went out to grab a smoke and Romero followed after me. Romero got hold of one of my knives in the struggle and stabbed Smith.” Andrew says with his usual deadpan affect.

“Yeah that’s what your friend Smith was saying too.” The officer says. “Well, I’m sure the FBI will want to talk to you all further but for now it’s a pretty clear cut case of self defense and no one but your friend has any serious injuries.” The officer pats Neil on the shoulder and Neil manages not to shirk away from the touch. The officer retracts his hand, “You guys are free to go tonight.” He says and turns back towards the car where a dazed Romero is in the back seat.

“Where did they take Smith?” Andrew asks since they’d been shepherded away from Smith the moment the ambulance had come. They hadn’t been able to ask which hospital Smith was going to be taken to so they could go and get updates.

“Lexington.” The cop answers, “Go on and see your friend. He seemed pretty loopy he kept talking about some beauty contest thing when he was getting loaded into the ambulance. I’m sure he’ll be a riot on painkillers.” The cop goes for a joke but it twists something in Neil’s stomach to think of FF so out of it that he’s talking nonsensically.

He feels Andrew’s hand stiffen in his and knows he’s not alone.

“Thanks.” Neil says before they head towards the front of the club. The club had been emptied out when the cops had come so Roland was babysitting Aaron and Nicky for them while they talked to the cops and FF was loaded out to the hospital.

In a way it’s almost a blessing that Nicky and Aaron are both so blasted that they aren’t comprehending any of what’s going on. They’ll have to drop them off back at the house before they go to the hospital. They’ll beat Wymack there easily even after the interrogation and drop off.

FF had asked them to call Wymack to let him know what was going on “I gave him the rights to make health care decisions for me if I’m incapacitated.” FF had said so Neil texts Wymack the hospital and the address after Andrew rattles it off for him.

“I don’t like that you hid it from me.” Neil says in the car.

“They wanted to kill you.” Andrew won’t apologize.

They still hold hands on the drive back to the Columbia house.

Andrew takes care of getting Aaron into bed while Neil helps Nicky.

Nicky who looks at Neil with a loopy smile and Neil hurts knowing that tomorrow when Nicky finds out about tonight and how he was too blasted to do anything to help FF.

Andrew and Neil reconvene in the Maserati and make their way to the hospital before either of them realize the issue.

“What is the name of the patient you’re looking for an update on?” The receptionist asks.

Both Andrew and Neil freeze.

Fuck.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

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The requests to be added to the tag list keep being spread out across a few different areas. If I missed you please just ask again in the replies I promise I just missed you.

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

#Fluent Freshman AU #Andrew: Smith is in the hospital. #Wymack (half awake): What did you do #Andrew: He got stabbed #Wymack: I thought you LIKED Smith #Wymack: Whatever admit to nothing I'm on my way #Twenty minutes later Andrew gets a text informing him that Kevin is coming #Andrew: Great just great #FF is having the time of his life in the ambulance #They gave him something for his pain #FF: You get what I mean right? Like that was a funny line since it's about Miss Congeniality? #EMT: Now that I understand the context that's a solid joke #FF: THANK YOU. #FF: I can't BELIEVE none of those cops got it #FF: I was so glad you loaded me in here because I thought I was going to die of shame when no one laughed #EMT: Well we wouldn't want that #EMT: How's your pain by. the way buddy? #FF: Wow four friends in one night. I am on a ROLL. #AFTG #AFTG OC #AFTG Fic #Andreil #AFTG AU #My Fic #FF - Part 22

[try-set-me-on-fire]

@jeeyuns @wildlife4life and @thewolvesof1998 tagged me in the fic stats meme!

Rules: post your fic with the most hits, the second most kudos, third most comments, fourth most bookmarks fifth most words and least words!

Most hits: all my life, there you go

"Alright," Eddie whispers, and since this is half a dream anyway he lets his hand cradle Buck's chin for a moment as they part. Buck smiles at him, easy, the brightest thing in here at 3 AM with the kitchen lights set to dim.

—

Drabble prompts from tumblr!

Second most kudos: also all my life, so I’ll plug take you in and make you mine, because I just posted the second chapter

He unlocks the door thinking a little nonsensically about the buddy system. We have to stick together, he thinks as Buck moves immediately to the heating controls, turning the AC on with a familiar clank-hum, it’s safer that way. Buck turns to face him, opens his mouth to say something but then Eddie is there, closing the distance, kissing him. We have to stick together Buck’s lips are warm so we won’t get lost and the noise he makes isn’t as surprised as it maybe should be so we can take care of each other but he still pulls back it’s safer, please, it’s safer this way.

—

Eddie should know better. Buck’s known for awhile. Maddie learns something new.

Third most comments: pick me, choose me, love me

Eddie wants to scream. Eddie wants to talk to Buck. There are questions he should ask - Do you know when the bleeding started? How long has it been? How bad does it hurt? Are you injured anywhere else? There is a conversation he wants to have - If I leave you here I don’t know that you’ll be alive when I get back. There are protocols, in disaster situations. If you can only save one person, you save the one most likely to survive. Beyond protocol, you always fucking save the kid. Beyond that, it's our kid. It’s our fucking kid, it’s Christopher, and I am going to get him to the surface and in doing so I am going to leave you for dead. But it’s Buck, and they never really needed words to talk, and Buck is still looking at him, and Eddie knows what he'd say. He'd downplay the injury. He knows the protocol. And he’d already said it, damned him out loud, he’s going to take you back up top and then come back for me.

Fourth most bookmarks: maybe fall in love

It's a pretty graceless confession but last Eddie checked it was 87° and, as a reminder, 3:46 in the goddamn morning. Whenever he'd occasionally let himself imagine this moment it had been a lot sweeter, maybe candles, maybe flowers, a big emotional recounting of exactly how much Buck means to him and how much his life has changed for the better because he's in it, but Eddie really thinks he should be cut some slack given the circumstances.

Fifth most words: like all good things are

By the time they dig down to where Chimney’s buried he’s barely conscious and laying in a puddle of his own blood. Buck wants to look anywhere else, but the only other option in the cramped space is to look at Hen, and he doesn’t want to do that because he knows what he’ll see there: the particular tight jaw expression she gets when things have gone bad. And Buck isn’t the team paramedic but he’s EMT certified like every other firefighter in the city and he knows this is bad, even if Chimney manages a bloody chuckle and says “Took you long enough.”

Least words: also maybe fall in love, so I’ll plug all the work that needs to be done because it’s the only one that didn’t qualify for any of these

Buck nods, two slow movements like any action at all pains him. Eddie isn’t sure how literal or metaphorical that statement is, and wants to tell him again to let a doctor look at him, but they’ve had that argument several times already tonight and Buck had a look in his eyes like- like Eddie doesn’t even know what, but whatever would have happened if he’d kept pushing would not have been good, so he’d let it drop and stuck close to his side. "She shouldn't be alone."

—

Bobby dies. Eddie worries. Life goes on.

Tagging @rewritetheending @forthewolves @burins @devirnis @bigfootsmom @shortsighted-owl @buckactuallys @shitouttabuck 💛

#tag games #my writing

[romanarose]

Seattle: Part 2

Marc Spector X Fem!OC

Part 1 : Part 3

Masterlist here

Seattle Masterlist

Also come see me on tik tok at romana_the_cryptid

Summary: Marc gets another phone call, and this time, she might be ready to accept help.

A/N: thank you so much for all the support for his story! I decided to change it from "reader" to an OC, bc I write better this way. Everything is the same as in the original Seattle story, she's Jewish, only difference is her name is Rebecca. I decided to make things get a little worse for Rebecca and Marc, but after this chapter, now they'll start getting better.

WARNINGS!! Okay so warnings will have spoilers but I don't want to trigger anyone. So if you'd like to skip this and not have anything spoiled, just to the cut. If you need warnings, here they are. Domestic violence, sexual assault via condom tampering, pregnancy, talk of abortion, miscarriage.

************

3 weeks went by without a word. Nothing. Marc didn’t dare text or call Rebecca; he knew better. That wasn’t the first late night phone call, but it was the first after a hospital visit. How can she not see it? How can she not see how much love she deserves? No one deserves what's happening to her. Hadn’t she told him the same thing?

“Marc stop, you didn’t deserve any of it.” Becca had held him, late one night, resting her head on his chest while his head laid on the duffle bag that held everything he owned. “What happened wasn’t your fault, and you know it. Your mom is batshit. No one deserves physical abuse. You were a child, a child who had to go through mourning alone.”

“I wasn’t alone.” 

Did Becca think she deserved it? Did she think she was less worthy of love than him? Why was she, who was nothing but kind and thoughtful, the exception? Can’t you just call her? Check in? What if I call and Jack answers? If she got hurt because of that… I know, I know… I just… Yeah, me too buddy.

He was startled out of his thoughts by his phone buzzing. He usually let it ring out in his pocket, choosing whether or not to call back later,, but decided to answer. When he pulled his phone out of his dark washed jeans, his heart jumped when Rebecca’s name. “Are you okay?” He answered with a start.

“Can’t I just call you?” He could hear her trying to smile, but there was a strain in her voice, and a lot of noises in the background he couldn’t distinguish.

“Are you just calling me?”

A pause… “I’m in an ambulance.”

Marc kicked the wall of the building he stood by “Fuck!” His hands found his hair, pulling at it as he tried to keep calm. “What's happening?”

“Marc-ah, I need you to focus, I’m on my way to the hospital and the EMT is kind enough to let me call you, so I need you to focus, okay?”

Marc felt more sober than he ever had in his life. “Talk to me, honey”

“I’m hyped on on adrenaline and pain right now, so maybe I’m just thinking clearly, but I need you to come get me-”

That’s how they met. Really met, anyway. They knew each other through Hebrew school, but ran in different circles. Rebecca’s family was the subject of a lot of gossip due to her dad's known affairs, and later, her mom's cancer. Marc remembers little Becca showing up on his doorstep sometime after Randell's death holding some casserole dish for him. She said she had made it herself, and by the way it tasted, that was probably true. “I thought, well, everyone brings food the week of the funeral, but I figured this way you didn’t have to worry about Shabbot. Or at least part of it.” His mom wasn’t worried about Shabbat at all, she wouldn’t worry about it again. But that shitty cassarol was the only thing he ate that weekend, his dad too drowned in grief and managing the household alone to notice there was nothing left to eat. 

“Yeah, yeah of course-”

“Marc, -oof- please shut up. I love you but everything hurts and I need you to just listen for once. I'm going to Seattle Grace Hospital, I need you to come out here and do. not. let me leave with Jack. When I come down from all this, I’m going to make excuses like I always do, and I cannot go back with him. He will fucking kill me in a few years, you know this. FUCK, that shit hurts.”

“What-” Marc stopped himself, not sure if she’s done.

“He saw I called you after I got out of the hospital. I have to go, just, can you please come? I’ll pay you back-” 

Marc hit the brick of the building with the side of his fist, which hurt significantly “Stop, you’re not paying for shit, Becca. Don’t worry about anything, I’ll take care of it. I’m going to get you out of there.”

“I love you.” Rebecca sharply sucks in your breath. “Don’t let me die in this stupid fucking city.” Her voice breaks, praying he’ll bail her out just one more time…

Marc started speed walking toward his apartment, he was getting her out. “Never, sweetheart, never. I’ll be there as soon as possible, okay?”

“I gotta go, they're hyping me up on painkillers and I’m going to stop making sense…” Her speech was already getting less than clear.

“Can you just… Can you lay the phone down by your head? So I can hear you?”

The tears were finally coming again and he quickly tried to get to his apartment to find flights. It was noon and he wondered if there would be any flights left. He heard her ask the EMT, then return to the phone. “Yeah, I can do that Marc.”

For the next few months, food around the house could be scarce. Not because of lack of money, but because of where his parent’s attention was. Wendy was out of commission. She really only went to the store for alcohol and her food. Elias had so much going on from mourning and services and bills… After a few months, he got the hang of things, but there were a fair amount of times Marc went to school without food. Of course, she noticed. She always noticed when people needed help. She’d always giving him some of her food. A piece of fruit and a twinkie. Half her sandwich and some carrots. Sometimes she would insist she wasn't hungry, and he could have all of it. Marc would usually refuse, but sometimes it had just been so long and he was so hungry… That’s why he was so protective of her. She had lost her mom the year before, was suffering on her own, but she still took him in.

“It’s gonna be okay, Beccs. I promise.”

“Sure” was all she could reply through the pain in her ribs.

Marc listened to the sounds in the ambulance 

‘Concussion’

‘Broken’

‘Burns’

Fuck, what did he do to her?

The EMT took the phone and told him she was out of it on the pain meds. She couldn’t tell him anything, but Marc knew it was a little piece of mercy to even inform him they were hanging up.

‘We’re going to Seattle buddy, buckle up.’

‘Oh bullocks, I hate grunge’ Steven jokes, trying to make Marc smile. It worked, even just a little and even for just a second.

Marc was lucky enough to find a flight leaving that night. Seattle was literally on the other side of the country from New York, and between that and the time change, Marc stepped out of the airport at 6. He had checked the visiting hours; he still had time.

They talked about everything. When you have no money, there isn't a lot else to kill time. Both of them worked as much as they could, of course, but there were still seemingly endless hours to kill. When you don’t have a house to clean or a car to fix, that frees up a lot of time. There were a lot of long, hot summer days with nothing to do. After the incident where Rebecca had passed out from the heat, Marc tried to keep her cool as much as possible. Elias had warned him that after you get heat stroke once, you get more sensitive to heat. They began spreading a lot of time at the beach, much to Marc’s constant stress. Rebecca had never asked to go to the beach, never suggested anything water related outside of the fountain parks, fully aware that Marc hadn’t swam since his brother’s death. Infact, there were multiple times she had refused to go when Marc insisted. But eventually, on a particularly hot day, she couldn’t resist.

When Marc finally saw Rebecca for the first time in years, she was barely recognizable as she slept. The nurse warned Marc that she was sleeping, but Rebecca had given a message that if a Marc Spector came, they were to let him in. She looked different. Very different. Disturbingly different. Her hair, normally medium brown and curly, was straightened and lightened to an almost caramel color. And she was thin. He could see it in her face, she’d lost weight. Growing up, Rebecca’s weight was a point of mild annoyance for her. She was always confident, always wore what she wanted, but there were always little comments she made here and there. Not something he ever saw her caring enough to do anything about. She wasn’t one to change herself in general. Marc wondered how much of these changes were Jack’s idea, or if he had simply beaten down her confidence enough that she took it upon herself.

“Marc?” Becca stirred from her nap. Recognizing her friend, her face lit up. There she was. There was the girl he knew.

Marc strode over to her side, sitting on the chair as she sat up “Hey Rivkah- no don’t sit up, rest” She didn’t listen. Never does. Marc helps prop up pillows behind her, knowing damn well he can’t argue with her. He brushed her straightened hair from her face; it was thick as ever. “You’re safe now, I’m here” He was cataloging any injuries he could find. There was the  busted lip and a bruise around her eyes, but the most disturbing was the burns on the right side of her face and neck.

She saw him eyeing her. “Marc it’s fine, don’t-”

“Stop” it came out a little more harsh than he meant it to. “Don’t start doing that-”

“I’m not doing anything-”

“You’re mitigating, you always do this you always-” Marc took a breath, dialing back his frustration. “Every time you call me, you always tell me it’s fine. But it’s not. Tell me what he did.”

Becca closed her eyes, she knew she had to honest with him. She spoke almost monotonously. “When he saw that I had called you, he confronted me. I had just boiled tea and had the water in my cup.” She opened her brown eyes, but didn’t look at him. “He threw the water in my face.”

“Fuck, Beccs…” Marc moved his hands behind the hospital bed, hiding the way his fists clenched. Never was he more thankful to Khonshu than he was right now. Jack was going to pay for this one.

“Marc, don’t. I know what you’re thinking, no Moon Knight shit.”

It was like she could read his mind… “He can’t keep getting away with it, Beccs, and you’re not staying with him.”

“It’s not that simple, Marc”

The man was too stunned to speak. “Rebecca you can’t be serious…”

Tears pricked at her eyes as she looked at him, pleading with him to understand, although she couldn't understand herself.  “He’s my husband, Marc.”

Slowly, over the rest of the summer, they made their way to the water. Temperature right off Lake Michigan was always cooler than the city was, so it already cooled them down. With baby steps, Marc slowly dipped his toes in the water, eventually allowing the water up to his waist. Marc would follow Rebecca everywhere she swam, Rebecca remained conscious in her swimming too far out, as to not make Marc go further than he was comfortable. He would never stop her from swimming, he would never stop her from doing anything… not that he could if he tried. Rebecca was always the kind of girl where if you told her she couldn’t, she would do it just to prove a point. That’s what he loved. Her ability to be unapologetically herself.

He resisted the urge to throw his hands up in frustration. “We’re Jewish! We believe in divorce! We’re not baptists!”

When she looked away from him again, glaring at the floor, he sighed, continuing. “What else. What else did he do?”

She muttered something he couldn’t quite hear.

“He broke your ribs?!” Marc felt like he could kill Jack. His rage was blinding, a white hot furry he had to try and push back. He couldn’t be freaking out right now, she needed him here.

“Bruised, Marc. Bruised them.” She turned back to him, almost glaring. “Just bruised. He said he’s going to go to therapy, and he’s going to stop drink-”

“He was here?”

She looked like she had been caught. She didn’t mean to let that slip. “Y-yeah. He’s um… he’s getting dinner right now. I was going to tell you not to come, but he…” She wished she could stop talking. Stop telling Marc everything, maybe he’d leave her be. But this was Marc, her Marc, she’d known him since pretty much as far back as she could remember. There weren't any secrets. “He took my phone.”

Marc shook his head. “No. No he’s not coming back in here, I swear to god, Beccs, he’s not touching you again.”

“Marc…” She closed her eyes, resigning herself to… something. “I’m sorry I dragged you out here-”

Before Marc could interject, Jack came in the door. He didn’t look as nervous as he should’ve been. “Marc, should’ve known you’d show up.” He was holding a bag of chinese food from down the street.

Marc instinctively stood up, placing himself between Jack and Rebecca. “When you burn my friend’s face, yeah, I’m gonna come.”

Jack slowly set down the food. “Friend, huh?” He was straightening up, almost postering. Not that he really needed to, Jack was several inches taller than Marc, but Marc was not intimidated. 

“Yeah, my friend. I need you to leave, otherwise we’re going to have a problem.” Marc took a step towards Jack, itching for a reason to hit him.

One of their favorite activities when the inseparable pair were too tired to swim was to lay in the water, the waves splashing up to cover their legs and dip under their backs. Marc had never envisioned that he would ever be comfortable like this, but he was. Perhaps it was the way she held Marc's hand. One of her hands laced with Marc’s and her other wrapped around his arm, securing him to her. They would lay like this for hours, either in silence or talking. Talking came so easy with her in a way it never was with anyone else. He supposed it was because there was nothing to hide. His brother, his mom, being homeless, the marines, mercenary, moon knight…. She had been there for all of it, in different ways. 

‘Do you want kids?’ She had asked, rather suddenly one day.

Marc thought about this, and for a long time. She held his hand for at least a minute while he considered, never pressuring him for an answer. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think I’d be good at it.’

He felt her turn to him, frowning. He avoided her gaze. “Marc, that’s not true. You’d be an amazing dad’ she paused before answering. ‘You’re not your mom, honey’

Marc couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of him with a baby. ‘I wouldn’t know how to take care of it, honestly’ He continued to avoid looking at her. When she was in that swimsuit, he had to actively stop his eyeline from drifting down. He respected her, he loved her… but he was still 18 after all.

She had spoken so softly, he had shivered. ‘You take care of me…’

Jack laughed. He fucking laughed at Marc. “Oh yeah? You gonna take her away on your white horse, back to your shitty apartment? Gonna fix all her problems until she finally fucks you?”

“You shut the fuck up” Marc, don’t fall for it, he’s taunting you “Don’t fucking talk about her like that.” He took another step, pointing his finger at the bastard in front of him.

“You gonna raise the baby too?”

Jack’s words hung in the air and for a moment all Marc could do was stare at Jack’s smug face. Jesus… His stomach dropped as the realization kicked in. She was pregnant. She was pregnant with Jack’s baby and now she was never going to leave.

A small voice from behind him. “Jack, what are you talking about?” Rebecca looked as confused and scared as Marc did.

Marc stepped back, just enough so she could talk to him, but close enough he could still protect her.

“You’re pregnant, Becca. You hadn’t notice your period is late?”

Rebecca looked like she was still processing, still connecting the dots. “I… my period has always been unpredictable… sometimes it doesn’t come… and we use condoms…”

“You thought we used condoms. You’ve been throwing up, gaining weight”

The realization hit Becca like a brick. He had purposefully gotten her pregnant. He had violated her body to trap her in this hell of a marriage. “Get out.” Her voice was shaky, but firm. “Get the fuck out of here, Jack.” She wanted Marc’s hand, but she was frozen. “I’m leaving.”

Jack took a step forward, but stopped when Marc moved in front of Becca. He wanted to allow her the autonomy to end this herself, but Jack was not going near her. Not again. 

Jack eyed Marc up and down. “You gonna raise the baby?”

There was no hesitation. “If she decides to have it, yes.”

Jack scoffed, turning to Rebecca who looked frozen in shock, hand on her stomach. “You have an abortion, and I swear to god, I will kill you.”

Becca whimpered, looking at him in terror. “Please leave.” She turned to Marc, pleadingly. “Marc, please make him leave, please?”

Marc didn’t need to be told twice. He stepped up to Jack. “You have two choices, Jack. One, you can leave and walk away with all your bones intact, or two, I will make you leave and you’ll be lucky to walk away with your life.”

When Jack had initially entered the room, Jack thought he could take Marc, no problem. But the way the shorter man looked at him right now was fucking feral. Jack had no doubt in his mind that Marc would tear him limb from limb. Wanting to keep some semblance of control, he turned to Rebecca one last time. “I’ll see you soon, Becca” he winked, and left as Marc started walking towards him.

Marc slammed the hospital door behind Jack, rushing back to Rebecca when he heard her start to cry, pushing away every bit of anger that was threatening to blow over. He’d deal with Jack later. Right now, she needs him. Marc sat on the bed, very very carefully taking her in his arms, being mindful of her bruised ribs and the scalded skin. “Oh honey, it’s gonna be okay, metuka. I promise.”

She tried to hold him tighter but winced when she hurt her ribs. “I didn’t think I could get pregnant… my period was so irregular I… I just assumed I couldn’t… I don’t know what I’m going to do…”

‘What about you, Beccs? Any kids in your future?’ He allowed himself to look at her pretty face, her dark curls splattered in the sand.

She grinned. ‘Oh yeah. Lots of ‘em. I’m gonna break the cycle. Those little kids are going to be so fucking loved.’

‘You’ll be a great mom, Becca.’ He meant it. Marc had never met a woman who was more loving and thoughtful. There was no doubt in his mind that she’s excel as a mother.

Marc let go, not wanting to hurt her more. She was taking deep breaths, calming down. “Don’t worry about that now, okay? We’ll get to New York and get you an appointment with a doctor, see how far you are. New York’s abortion laws aren’t too bad, you have plenty of time to decide what you want to do. I promise to support whatever it is.”

She shook her head. “You don’t want a baby in your apartment, Marc”

“Beccs, don’t worry about-”

“Don’t lie to me”

“Rivkah, I swear to you that if you want the baby, I will help you.” Marc promised. Her body had already been violated in a variety of ways, the least he could do is allow her autonomy over this. “And I swear to god that if you get an abortion, he won’t touch you. Don’t let any of that affect your choice.“ He touched the side of her voice that wasn’t burned, and she closed her eyes, leaning into him. “It’s all up to you”

“All I ever wanted was to be a mom…” Her voice cracked, she was scared to death, uncertainty clouding her senses.

Marc kissed her forehead gently. “If that’s what you want, that is what you’ll be” 

That night, after Rebecca fell asleep, Marc found himself in front of her apartment, banging on the door. I don’t know if this is a good idea… Steven warned. But Marc wasn’t listening. He was going to get her necessary items, kick Jack’s ass, and go. When Jack opened the door, there was a gun in Marc’s face. This did not phase him. Marc quickly disarmed Jack, pistol whipping him before he unleashed the last several years of hatred. For every time he hurt her, violated her, insulted her, Marc laid another blow. 

Marc, that’s enough… Steven spoke softly, warning Marc before he took it too far. Breathless, Marc pulled himself off Jack’s beaten body. “Where’s her papers.” Jack carefully directed Marc to Becca’s social, birth certificate insurance card, etc, and the phone she had stolen as well. He found a few backpacks and filled them up with things she might need:  He walked by the shelf in her bedroom, spotting a small teddy bear. He couldn’t fucking beleive it.

It was the summer they were homeless, there was a fair in town and although Marc hated crowds, Rebecca was so excited to see the bands that were playing. She hadn’t asked for a single thing, but Marc had insisted on spending just a little bit of money. They had gone on the ferris wheel and she nearly squeezed the life out of his hand on the tilt-a-whirl. They split a funnel cake while they watched the free show and she had managed to flirt  a couple beers from the bartender who didn’t bother checking ID. Every time they walked by the balloon darts, he caught Becca eyeing a teddy bear. She would never in her life ask Marc to waste money on that scam, but all Marc wanted was to see her smile. He’d give his last dime to see her smile… So he tried to win it. And tried again. And tried a third time. After spending way too much money, he had won her the teddy bear, grinning ear to ear as she squealed, jumping up and down and hugging him. She slept with it every night that summer, and it had been in the bed the night they had made love. He couldn’t believe she kept it all these years…

When he came back to the hospital,  he knew something was wrong. The hall outside her room was a commotion, doctors and nurses going out. “What’s happening?” He demanded, running to the room. The nuse older nurse that had been working with Rebecca gave him a look. “Honey, you know I can’t tell you that.” Of course. Marc wasn’t her husband. He was a coward when they were kids and missed his chance. He wasn’t her husband. 

Marc gave an apologetic nod to the nurse and pushed his way in, where he found his pretty girl curled up in a ball, arms wrapped around her head.

“Sweetheart, Beccs…” Marc sat on the beds, stroking her hair. “What’s going on…” a thousand worst case seniors ran through his head. Why did he leave? How could he leave her here? Of course something had happened in the hours he was gone…

She didn’t come out of her huddle. “You don’t have to worry about a baby anymore…”

It was then that Marc noticed her nightgown had been changed, as were the sheets of the bed. 

“Oh honey… I’m so sorry…” She shook her head that was still in her arms. “I didn’t even know if I wanted it…” She spoke through broken sobs.

Marc was unsure how to respond. She didn’t know if she was going to keep it, but she wasn’t sure if she had wanted an abortion either. “Can I lay with you?” Marc wasn’t could with words, but he could be there with her, he could hold her.

“If you want, but I’m still bleeding, you might-” Get blood on you she almost said, but Marc was already climbing in the bed, she happily made room for him. 

“Don’t worry about that, honey. Can I hold you?” He asked. He wanted every move he made to be approved by her. Rebecca nodded, and Marc slipped an arm around her waist, ever-conscious of her ribs. 

There was a moment of silence as she cried before she spoke. “She said it wasn’t my fault. The nurse. She said it wasn’t me…”

Marc brushed the hair with the back of his hand. “Of course not, Beccs, none of this is your fault. Any of it.”

“I asked if this was because I wasn’t taking care of it, since I still drank and wasn’t taking vitamins, if I did something…”

“Oh honey, no…” Marc wanted to take it all away from her. Whether or not she had wanted the baby, he understood this was a horrific thing to go through

“She said the stress my body took today might have induced it…” A shaking breath, and she winced at the pain in her ribs. “He made me get pregnant and he made me miscarry. I didn’t get a choice in any of it.”

That summer, they had existed as a unit. What they had, they shared. What they didn’t have they went without together. It had always been that way. Since the day Rebecca had shown up at his doorstep, sharing the food she had while dealing with her dad’s abuse. Every day of middle school where Rebecca helped cover a bruise with make-up. Every time in high school when Marc was sick with no one to care for him and she brought him soup and medicine she stole from her dad’s cabinet. Every time Marc defended her from shitty men or held her when he couldn’t protect her from one in particular. Back then, it had been her dad. Now, it was Jack. He hadn’t been able to protect her from her dad or Jack, but he wouldn’t let it happen again.

There Marc held her, whispering soft assurances and words of love in her ear as Rebecca cried herself to sleep in his arms.

****************

I hope this wasn't too dark y'all, I promise this is the worst of it. I needed something that Rebeca couldn't mitigate, something that Jack could never come back from. The rest of the fic will be Marc helping Rebecca get back on her feet, helping her find herself again, their relationship progressing, and both of them reconnecting with their faith.

Tagging everyone who had asked for a part two, this ill be around 5-10 parts, so if you don't want to be on the tag list, lmk! I won't be offended. It'll probably be closer to 5-7 parts.

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @ninebluehearts @sofi786 @myfandomlikesandstories

#marc spector fanfic #steven grant #moon knight fanfiction #marc spector #Marc spector hurt #marc spector comfort #hurt comfort #moon knight #moon knight series #oscar isaac fanfiction #oscar isaac #moon knight hurt comfort #Marc spector x jewish!reader #jewish marc spector

[piratewithvigor]

Journey Out Of Darkness: The History Of Kane

Chapter 2: 20-20-24 Hours To Go...

Besides The Ramones, who ever wanted to be sedated anyway?

Last Chapter

Taglist: @the--blackdahlia @coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe

Abel Carrion was unconscious for six weeks.

Calls to clear the highway had allowed the EMTs to get him from Marfa to Big Bend Regional Hospital in Alpine in just about fifteen minutes, sirens screeching the entire way. It took the ER doctor there even less time to realize the burns he was facing were far beyond his ability to heal. By the time the sun began to rise, Abel was in a bed in San Antonio. He’d been choppered into the burn center at Fort Sam Houston, recovering from the first of what would be six skin grafts in all. Doctors had worked through the night to scour his body for healthy flesh that could replace what had been burned away. Abel knew nothing of his helicopter ride, regardless of how excited he would have been to take it even a few days ago, nor of the operations, his surroundings or the attention he drew nation-wide for his miraculous recovery. For his own sanity, the doctors kept him drugged. He needed to heal, which couldn’t be done when his mind was overwhelmed with the agony of the affair. They didn’t know he wouldn’t feel the agony. So he was drugged. He was unconscious.

He was dreaming.

–

He opened his eyes slowly, the fuzzy image of his dad coming into view. Dad was leaning over him, brushing the rusty-brown curls out of Abel’s face.

“Hey, buddy. How you feeling?”

Abel shrugged, still not feeling quite like himself. “Okay, I guess.”

He was four years old again, lying in a bed that felt too stiff, in Big Bend Regional, where was waking up after a day of being poked and prodded and tested by doctors who kept drawing blood and shaking their heads. At least it was over now.

His parents didn’t look comforted by this. Especially his ma, who was sitting on the edge of his bed and rocking, like she had a tendency to do when she was especially upset. With every new update from the doctors, Abel had assured her that he felt fine. She never seemed any calmer.

“You understand what the doctors were telling you?” Dad asked, leaning in close to him. That was how Abel could tell he was nervous. His dad never showed it otherwise. “What they were talking about?”

“Yes, sir. I do understand.”

“They call it HSAN. That stands for Hereditary Sensory and Autonomic Neuropathy. It means you can’t feel any pain.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Which means you have to be very, very careful about what you do. Pain is–”

“I remember,” Abel interrupted. “Pain is the body’s warning mechanism. I have to watch what I’m doing all the time, I have to be careful not to get into fights or play sports or do any of those kinds of things because since I can’t feel pain, I’ll never notice things like cuts or bruises or broken bones.”

That, at least, drew a small smile from Dad. “That’s right, son. That’s right. Exactly.”

Of course it was right. The doctors had told him that might be what he had when they first brought him into the hospital. Then every new doctor who did a new test and came to the same conclusion did the same. Some of them used different examples, or phrased it differently, but they all started the same way: telling him that pain was important.

“I’ll be careful.”

“This is all my fault,” his ma whispered, her face shielded by long red hair, as if she was hiding away from the reality of the situation.

“Now don’t start in with your crazy talk, Susanna.”

“It’s not crazy. Not crazy at all. My father. His father before him. My cousins. My aunt, my uncle, all the way back to–”

“Susanna Kane,” his dad said sharply. “How many times have I told you not to talk like that in front of the boys? Those ideas–”

“They have a right to know.”

Abel pulled his blankets up a little. He wasn’t sure whether his dad had been drinking yet today, but he didn’t always need it to be mean. Especially if he was stressed.

“It’s nothing they need to be worrying themselves crazy over like you.”

“It’s their family.”

“Susanna Kane–”

“She’s right, Dad.”

Abel lowered the blankets from his eyes and saw Thomas, standing at the door.

“We got a right to know, me and Abel. We got the blood in us too, after all. Maybe we got the curse too. Just like all the people in here.”

He was holding a book. A thick, wide one with a brown leather cover that Abel recognized immediately. The Kane family scrapbook. The project Ma had been working on for the last few years that traced her family history all the way back to Pilgrim times. She worked on it as often as Dad worked in the basement. In that time, it’d become– what was that word Dad had used? – an obsession of hers ever since…

Ever since he was born, Abel realized.

Now how did he know that?

“You are not cursed. The boys are not cursed. No one in your family has ever been cursed. Because curses don’t exist,” Dad said firmly. 

“How do you explain everything that happened? And now with Abel…”

“There’s nothing to explain. Bad luck with some of them, others had diseases the science of the time didn’t know about. It’s just genetics.”

“Kane family genetics,” Thomas pointed out. Dad glared at him. Lately, Thomas had taken a vested interest in the Kane family. He’d been helping Ma out with any research he could, pouring over history books and spending even more time looking at the scrapbook, analyzing every picture and paper kept inside. He spent more time with that book than actual schoolwork, in fact, that’s what Dad was always saying. Too much time. Wasn’t playing outside like a boy his age should be. He was going to get even more pale…

That didn’t seem possible. The longer Abel looked at his family, the more pale they all looked, how white their skin was. As white as some of the bodies he’d seen in the parlor, almost waxy-looking, like they weren’t real, like– 

A terrible feeling ran through his bones down to the marrow, making him shiver.

“Please,” Abel spoke up softly. “Can we not talk about the curse?”

“That’s my boy.” Dad put a hand on his shoulder and seemed to ease up a little. “Ain’t nothing mystical about this condition, this HSAN. Long as you’re careful, you’ll be more than fine.”

Abel nodded. Of course there was nothing mystical. Plenty of people had this. “More than you’d think,” a lot of the doctors had said.

“No fighting,” his dad continued.

“I know.”

“No sports.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And stay out of the sun whenever you can. You don’t want to burn. Getting too many sunburns could be dangerous. Very, very dangerous, you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

“You could crisp right up and never know it. Never feel a thing.”

Dad raised his hand and took a drag off his cigarette.

As quickly as he did– like magic, Abel thought– a nurse appeared behind him.

“Sir, there’s no smoking in here.”

Of course smoking would be forbidden; there were so many machines and tanks filled with gasses that could explode in an instant. His dad seemed to have forgotten.

“No smoking?” He looked down at the cigarette in his hand. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

He dropped the butt on the floor, neglecting to put it out with the heel of his boot like Abel had seen him do dozens of times. Instead, it landed, bounced, almost in slow motion before it rolled just enough to rest next to the trailing edge of his blanket. The edge of the fabric glowed red and began to smoke.

There were a lot of words Abel wanted to use in that moment that he’d heard Thomas use before (and promptly get a lashing for). The only ones that came to his mind were ‘oh no’.

“Oh my. Look at that.” The nurse put her hands on her hips and shook her head, using the same disappointment Ma would every time she caught Abel getting a little too rambunctious. “Your bed’s on fire, I’m afraid.”

His ma’s eyes widened. “I knew it. You see, Tom? You see what I mean?” She stood and grabbed hold of Abel’s hand. “We should get going.”

“Well, shoot.” Dad was looking at the little fire with just as much quiet disappointment. “Seems you’re right, Susanna. We best get going.”

Abel began pushing himself out of bed, working through the exhaustion, but unable to move against the nurse pushing him back down.

“No, you don’t. We got some more tests to do.”

“Let me go…” Abel whimpered, looking down at the growing fire. “Please.”

The nurse shook her head, looking about as unapologetic as one could. “I’m sorry.”

“Abel, come on!” Thomas was standing in the doorway, holding it open with his back. Dad walked through it and disappeared down the hall.

“Dad!”

The fire was getting bigger. More of the blanket was falling away into ashes. 

“Come on, Abel!” Thomas yelled. “I can’t hold this door open forever!”

The nurse was still holding him down. All he wanted to do was get up and follow. His hand slipped free from his ma’s in the struggle.

“Oh, Abel.” There were more tears dripping down Ma’s cheeks. “I wish you could come with us.”

He didn’t want to stay. He didn’t want to be left behind. His own tears of terror began falling.

“I’m coming, Ma! Please don’t leave without me.”

She didn’t hear. Or didn’t listen. She was gone out the door with Dad. Abel met Thomas’s eyes one last time before he followed and the door began to slide shut.

Abel tried one more time to sit up. The fire was beginning to reach where his feet were under the blanket. The nurse pushed him back down, pressing on his shoulders. He struggled a little, but the events of the day had left him weaker than he usually felt.

“You heard your dad, Abel. No fighting.”

“But–”

“No fighting.”

He spent the last of his energy to squirm out of her grasp and make it to the floor. The door had been so close when he was in the bed, but without the extra height, the smoke in the room began crowding his eyes. He could barely see past his own hand. The nurse couldn’t see him and he couldn’t see her. Couldn’t see anything. Couldn’t hear anything except the crackling of the fire. He stumbled with his hands outstretched, trying to feel for anything. His hands landed on something rough and wooden. A stairway. The stairway at his house, back in Marfa. It wasn’t the hospital room on fire, it was his house.

With that, he remembered it all, and began to scream.

– 

At the nurses’ station, in the burn unit at Fort Sam Houston, the detector began beeping. It was a marvelous piece of machinery that let any of the staff know right away if a patient was awake. Sensors in the mattress sent a signal to a computer, which made a light flash under the number 41 on the board. The nurse on duty set down her magazine and frowned. The boy in room 41 was not supposed to be waking up. 

She made her way down the hall and adjusted his sedative drip to keep him unconscious– so his body could concentrate on healing. The operating room schedule said he was going to be getting another skin graft in the morning. The last thing he needed was to be moving around and draining what little energy his body had in the first place.

She knew his story, everyone in the hospital did. He’d been a minor celebrity for somehow surviving one of the most intense housefires their nook of Texas had ever seen, but it was still anyone’s guess how thrilled he’d be about it. 

In his slight shifting, the boy’s hair had fallen into his eyes. The nurse brushed it back gently, revealing his pale face. Thank God for small favors– at least the burns on his face were relatively minor. They’d likely fade in time and he’d be able to live a normal life, assuming he survived the next few weeks. Assuming anyone could live a normal life after their whole family had been killed.

“You’ll make it,” she whispered.

Abel shifted a little in his sleep, reaching out to the sound of her voice.

#found out my college dropout cousin is graduating from something on Sunday #so I have to pack to move out tomorrow #so I'd likely not have time to really finish this chapter #it's a little shorter but then you get more chapters #I'm not cutting any content just divvying it up more #Journey Out Of Darkness #Kane #Undertaker #UT #Writing #Fanfic #WWE #WWF

[wmctutorbuddies]

Ice Breaker: Get to know one another through music! Top 3 Worst  songs of the 2010's:

Shape of you- Ed Sheeran Happy- Pharrell Hot Line Bling-  Drake

Top 3 Best songs of the 2010's: It Wasn't Me- Shaggy WYMB- One Direction Baby-Justin Bieber What did you discover about each other through the music?

That between the three of us there are some controversial music opinions

New tutors: what is one question you want to ask your experienced tutor?

Trisha: How's your experience been with online tutoring?

Jessica: there's so many things that can go wrong. For instance, today I had a drop-in and my mic went completely out and it didn't come back until I restarted it

Sophie: I agree, there are so many technical issues that you don't have to deal with with in-person tutoring. 

Experienced tutors: what is one thing you wish you knew when you started at the WMC? Jessica how much work it would be to tutor!

Sophie: How many assignments I'd be unfamiliar with. There are tutees that come needing help with something I have no experience with.

New tutors: what is one question you have about your FY-EMT assignment?

Trisha: What was your experiences with the lit review?

Jessica: It's hard, it's a pain, but it's also really useful because people do come in and need help with them.

Sophie: I hated it, but I agree, it's good practice and experience. Experienced tutors: what is one piece of advice you can give your buddy with regards to embedded tutoring?

Jessica: Have good communication with the professor! Know their expectations and how you can help them.

Sophie: Because I'm completely online I try to include a video with my weekly announcements because it makes the students familiar with your face.

Both new and experienced tutors:  What is one way you can support each other this semester?

Jessica: I know with three schedules it's difficult to schedule but we should try to hang out in person!

Sophie: I like the groupchat we have going so we can stay in touch, but I'd like to hang out!

Trsiha: I agree I like the groupchat because if we have any issues or questions we can ask and get a response when everyone's not busy

#submission

[bluebloodsgurl]

Put the Gun Down

Characters: Jamie Reagan X Reader, Danny Reagan, Jackie Curatola, Gormley, Renzulli, Frank Reagan, Stevens (OC)

Word Count: 2000

Warning: Language?,  Angst, Violence, fluff end

A/N: This is the first of many fics. I am using #11 from the Random section on the Prompt list I posted a few days ago. It is in bold letters.

Feedback is always welcome. The Good and The Bad. Requests are also open.

Tumblr Masterlist

Your day started off like any other. Grab coffee, head into work, get your assignment and head out. The only difference today, Gormley was sticking you with a new partner. It wasn’t just a new partner, it was a new cop, a rookie. You weren’t particularly happy about it.

“Seriously Sergeant, you’re sticking me with the newbie. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you don’t have a partner for the next couple of weeks remember. Holman is on vacation and I can’t have you running around on your own.” Gormley quickly retorted.

“You could, you’re just choosing not to.”

“No, I’m not Y/l/n. Everyone has to have a partner when out on patrol. Now get out of here and do your job.”

“Fine.” You open the door to his office. “You and I both know that I would work better on my own than with a rookie.” With that you walked out and closed the door a little louder than you wanted to.

“What’s wrong with you?” Danny looked back at you from his desk.

“Oh nothing, everything is just peachy.” You put on the fakest smile you could. “I get a new partner because Holman decided to take a 2-week vacation.”

“It can’t be that bad. We all have had to get new partners before.”

“Yeah, well I would rather have a partner with experience and not a rookie fresh out of the academy.” You started walking towards the locker room to find your new partner.

“Have fun!” Danny yelled across the precinct, earning a birdie being flipped at him.

“Ya know one of these days she’s going to hit you over the head with something.” Jackie said while she let out a small laugh.

“I’m surprised she hasn’t already.”

When you got close to the locker room, you saw a guy standing just outside the door. He looked nervous, he kept adjusting his cap. You stopped a few feet away from him, just watching to see what he was going to do. After a few minutes he finally looked up at you.

“Sorry, Are you Officer Y/LN?”

“Yes… You must be Stevens.” You held your hand out to him, he shook it.

“Nice to meet you.” He looked slightly more nervous than before.

“Dude you need to lighten up.”

“Sorry. First day jitters I guess.”

“That’s fine but I need to know that you’re good before we walk out those doors. If not, we need to talk to Gormley because if we are in a situation and you’re not ready for, it can go bad quickly. I have seen it happen before.”

“I’m good.” He took in a deep breath and exhaled. He did look a little bit more relaxed, but you were still unsure about all of this.

Towards the end of your tour, you had gotten a call from dispatch for a domestic disturbance. There were a few people arguing on the street. There was a group forming near the two men. As you pulled up, you could see that it was going to start escalating. You told Stevens to radio for back-up as you got out of the car. Once you were out the guys started fighting. You ran over to them, leaving Stevens behind. Only you didn’t realize that he didn’t request back-up, he got out to help you instead.

One of the men had the other on the ground, just punching the shit out of him. You were able to pull the guy off of him and handing him over to Stevens. He had taken him, and had him pressed up against the squad car. You went to help the man on the ground. You called for an ambulance.

“Sir, can you hear me?”

“yes.” He was moving around and yelling in pain.

“what’s your name Hun?”

“Jared… Jared Peterson.”

“Good Jared, I need you to stay still, while I look at you, okay?”

“Okay.”

You were and EMT before you became a cop. You figured it would help you on the job. He didn’t completely stop moving, but it was enough to let you look at his face. You were wondering where your back-up was. You started hearing arguing behind you. you looked over to see Stevens struggling to get the man in hand cuffs.  You quickly got up and started over to them. You were about six feet away from them when the man slipped his wrist out of Stevens hand and elbow him in the gut. It sent him back a few steps, which gave the man enough time to swing and punch him, Stevens went down pretty hard. You grabbed your radio as you ran over to them. You noticed Stevens not moving to get up.

“10-13 Officer Down, I repeat 10-13.” What you weren’t expecting was for the guy to pull a gun on you. You stopped in your tracks. “10-32.” You let go of the radio and put your hand up, you left the other just hovering by your gun.

“Shut up!” The man started walking towards you.

The crowd started freaking out. Some started running away, a few were on the phone calling 911 the rest were too scared to move. You could see his eyes weren’t even on you. You slowly started backing up to the man on the ground. You stopped right in front of him.

“Sir, I need you to put the gun down.” You were trying to stay as calm as you possibly could. “Don’t do something that you will regret.”

“I won’t regret this, now get out of my way!”

You still stood there, not moving. You could hear the sirens going off, slowly getting louder.

He cocked his gun and pointed it at you. “I said get out of my way, the bastard deserves it.”

“I can’t do that.” You could see Jamie and Renzulli coming up on one side and 2 others coming up on the other side. One of them went over to check on Stevens.

The man was looking around now he could see all the guns pointed at him. He quickly grabbed you, using you as a shield. He had his arm around your neck, with his hand grabbing onto the collar of your shirt and the gun to your head.

“Woah, drop the gun buddy.” Jamie was the first one to speak, he and Renzulli were the closest ones to you.

“Move any closer and I’ll shoot her.” Jamie stopped immediately.

“Okay, take it easy. Put the gun down and we can talk about this.”

“No, the second I do you will arrest me, and he gets away.”

“What did he do?”

“He’s been sleeping with my wife, now she’s leaving me for him.”

“That doesn’t mean he deserves to die.” You stupidly opened your mouth. Instantly regretting it as the words left your mouth.

“I told you to shut up.” You felt his grip get tighter on your throat, causing you to grunt.

“Ease up on her, your choaking her!” Renzulli yelled at him, he let up just enough for you to catch your breath.

He slowly started moving backwards, you tried to keep yourself planted but he was too strong. There was also the fact that if you didn’t move, he would end up choaking you. You felt the gun slightly lift up from your head. You looked directly at Jamie; you could see the worry in your boyfriends’ eyes.

It’ll be okay. You mouth to him. You could see a shift in him, you see him shake his head slightly.

You just closed your eyes and tried to focus on your breathing. You were about to do something stupid, but you don’t know what this guy was going to do. If you were going to get shot it was going to be on your own terms.

The next few seconds went by in a flash.

You reached up, pushing the barrel of the gun up. You tilted your head away just in case he pulled the trigger. When he didn’t, your hand grabbed the gun holding it above you. Then you picked up your foot to kick him in the shin. While you brought your elbow up to ram it back into his gut. You pulled your gun out of its holster. He let go of you to grab his stomach, he still had his hand on the gun. You swung around to face him. He pulled his arm down bringing the gun and your hand down to shoulder level. When he got it down, you felt his index finger slip out from under your hand to the trigger. Before you could even attempt to move your finger to the safety, he pulled the trigger.

You let go of the gun and started falling to the ground. You pointed your gun at him and shot the man in the chest two times before hitting the ground. You fell onto your back; the man fell back as well.

“Y/N!” you could hear Jamie yelling.

Next thing you see is Jamie kneeling next to you. You were trying to block out the pain, as Jamie put pressure on your shoulder.

“You’re insane.” You could see the tears forming in his eyes.

“You love me.” You looked him in the eyes and smiled.

“Not right now I don’t.”

“Yeah right.” You brought your hand up and put it on top of his.

“Get that ambulance over here.” He yelled to the EMTs that were onsite.

You were transported to the hospital, and immediately taken into surgery. Jamie had a few hours left on his shift, but when he got off, he went to the hospital to wait for you. When he arrived, he saw his father there.

“Jamie.” He stood up from his seat and walked over to his son.

“How is she doing?”

“She’s still in surgery. They said it should be any minute now.” He put a hand on his shoulder and walked him over to the chairs.

A few minutes later Danny came through the doors with coffee. He handed each of them a coffee before sitting down.

“How are you doing kid?”

“I’m fine.” He looked down at his coffee, just trying to avoid eye contact with his brother.

“Oh really, because if I saw my girlfriend get shot in front of me, I would be pretty upset, pissed off even.”

Jamie got up and walked away from them, he didn’t want to do this right now. He just wanted you.

“Commissioner.” A doctor came out into the waiting room, all three men walked up to the doctor. “She’s out of surgery, she’s just resting, but you can go see her now.”

“Thank you.” Frank said as he followed the doctor to your room. Danny and Jamie were close behind him.

When the door to your room opened, you instantly tried to sit up once you saw Frank.

“Commissioner Reagan.”

“Relax Y/n.” You laid back but not all the way down. “How are you?”

“I’ve had worse hits, so I guess I’m doing okay.”

After that Frank started asking about what had happened, you told him everything. That’s when he informed you that Stevens never radioed for back-up. You were pissed off at that point. You knew something was going to go wrong. After a few hours Danny and Frank left, so it was just you and Jamie.

“You’re crazy, ya’know that.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” You just smiled at him.

“It can be when things like today happen.”

“I’m fine Jamie. Come here.”

You scooted over and patted the bed next to you. Jamie laid down with you, being extra careful to not move the bed too much. You moved into him, he wrapped one arm around you just to keep you close to him. Your head was on his other arm. He kissed you on the top of your head.

“I love you, Jamie.”

“I love you too, Y/n.”

Eventually, both of you fell asleep.

#jamie reagan x reader #Jamie Reagan #Blue Bloods #fanfic #Fan fiction #Danny Reagan #Frank Reagan #angst

[txemrn]

Book: Open Heart (after book 3)

Word Count: 1456 (+/-)

Warnings: Language, angst, maternal death

A/N: You guessed it; we did another Drunken Drabbles last night (which if you ever want to play, please join us! My buddies @chemist-ana, @jstawriterbee, & @kat-tia801 joined me last night--check out their DD! They actually have smut!), and this one is brought to you be Deep Eddie's Vodka. As far as the challenge? I broke every. single. rule. First of all, I passed out before I could schedule to post this, so here I am, 2.5 hours late. Second, I didn't use the prompt. There is literally no prompt to this. Third, I'm well over 1000 word. And finally, there is no smut. Nada. Zilch. What the hell happened last night? *rubs head* Some characters and plot belong to Pixelberry. Also, no editing or pre-reading with this bad boy, so please forgive me! Enjoy! 😎

***

Depositing a dollop of hand sanitizer in her palm, newly appointed Chief of Obstetrics Dr. Tatum Erikson escorts a nurse out of a labor patient's room. “Let’s go ahead and start that amnio,” she orders as she rubs her hands together. "300 bolus followed by 80 an hour. Call me if--" the chime of her pager interrupts her. "Shit."

"Ma'am?"

Tatum rubs her temples. "Sorry--um--" she looks back at her pager. "--call me if those decels don't resolve in thirty minutes--" she begins to jog down the birthing center's corridor, heading towards the stairs to exit the unit.

She bolts down the six flights, reaching the ground level at a rapid speed. She rounds the corner, pushing past the double doors next to a large red-and-white illuminated sign: Emergency. She sees the commotion ahead and a patient being transferred from a stretcher, not responsive.

"I'm Dr. Erikson," she frantically calls out over the chaos of the room. "I was paged 911. What've we got?" As a seasoned EMT rattles off vital signs and history, Tatum instantly recognizes Karla Hogan, a patient she saw this morning at her 38-week check-up appointment.

Oh, God, no... Please no...

"...she was found unresponsive at the scene of the MVA. Asystole. CPR in process for 17 minutes--"

"Epi? We've given epi?"

"Yes--"

"Atropine?"

"Maxed."

No, no, no. This can't be happening…

"Doctor, how would you like to proceed--?"

"Put a goddamn fetal monitor on my patient," she barks, turning to a nurse nearby. "You," she points, "page OB STAT Emergency overhead. I need an OR now--"

"It won't make a difference," bellows a cold, baritone voice from the doorway of the room.

Tatum freezes, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She knows that hauntingly deep voice: a voice that once made her giggle incessantly during the day while he purred her name late into the night; a voice that encouraged her, comforted her, believed in her all through medical school; a voice that once laid claim to her hand and her heart--that is until that voice found her in bed with his best friend. She knows that frigid tone anywhere.

"Ramsey," she mutters.

"A postmortem c-section?" He condescendingly questions, strolling confidently into the room. "She's been down for how long--?"

"But, if these chest compressions have been adequate, there's a chance--"

"She was gone before they even started--" he nonchalantly interjects as he begins testing the patient's reflexes.

"Doctor Ramsey," she chides before being abruptly interrupted by a trauma nurse.

"Dr. Erikson, I think I hear a heartbeat, but it's low and slow." Tatum nervously nods, taking a few deep breaths.

"That's good enough for me," she kindly thanks the nurse. "Alright, team," she boldly orders, "Let's get her ready for a cesarean." She turns to a nearby technician. "Where the hell is my OB team?"

"They've been paged--"

"Page them again," orders Tatum.

"But, doctor--"

"Page them again," Tatum's tone becomes more stern as she starts grabbing surgical materials. Slipping on a scrub hat, she turns to look into a pair of familiar, crystal blue eyes. "When's the last time you did surgery, Ramsey?"

The tall provider sardonically chuckles. "It's been a while," he crosses his arms, "but, it's not happening right now--"

Tatum scoffs. "Let's get her prepped people. Move!"

"Dr. Erikson," Ethan hollers, a warning in his tone. "You will not be performing this--"

"Watch me." Tatum fervently assists the nurses and technicians in positioning the gravid body. "If you've got a problem, take it up with the chief. This is my call--"

"Already have," Ethan snidely rebuttals, "and it's my call." Tatum stops applying her surgical mask, slowly turning her attention to his towering frame. Her wide eyes slowly trace down from his face to the embroidery of his white coat: Dr. Ethan J. Ramsey, Chief of Medicine.

Tatum blinks her lashes in confusion. "Where's Dr. Banerji?"

"Not here," Ethan smirks, raising an eyebrow. "Now will you be reasonable?"

"Reasonable?" She feels the anger burning inside her as she fights back the stinging pain of tears. Her eyes glisten with earnest pleading. "Ethan," she beckons under her breath, "We could save a life."

Ethan runs his hand over his face, allowing his fingers to rest against his chin. "Tatum, I--"

"Please. Do this," she swallows deeply, her voice reducing to a whisper, "for me?" Ethan's gaze fixes on his former love, a flash of memories flood before his eyes leaving the pair in a palpable stillness.

"Nurse," he calls out from over his shoulder, "I need a size eight glove."

***

"You want me to--"

"I can do it."

Ethan and Tatum walk in silence to the waiting room to retrieve Karla Hogan's husband. Recognizing him instantly, Tatum invites him to follow him to a more private room to talk.

"Just--just say it, Dr. Erikson." Tatum stuns in her steps, slowly turning to face the tearful husband and father-to-be. "Please don't make me take one more step, one more second not knowing that the love of my life--that she, my Karla--" his voice falls into sobs.

"We--we did everything--" Tatum's voice runs hoarse as tears drip from her cheeks. She clears her throat. "Mr. Hogan, I--I--" A sudden tunnel of darkness clouds around her head, the room falling silent. She feels her heart begin to panic, thundering in her chest as her breathing becomes more shallow. She's had this difficult discussion before with family members; but death in the maternity ward is never something one should get used to.

Suddenly, Ethan gently puts a hand on Tatum's shoulder, a comforting touch that always brought her back to reality. She takes a few deep breaths, looking up at him. He gives a curt nod as he squeezes her shoulder, stepping forward to talk.

"Mr. Hogan, we did everything we could…"

Tatum slips off her scrub cap, letting platinum blonde wisps cascade down her face. All she can picture in her head is Karla, how she was full of hope this morning‐‐they both were. And in the blink of an eye

"... but thanks to this skillful doctor right here," Tatum is pulled from her thoughts by Ethan's words as he points to her. "--your newborn baby girl is waiting for you, recovering in our Neonatal Intensive Care Unit."

***

After leading the emotional father up to meet his daughter, Tatum turns on her heel, making her way back to her laboring patients in the birthing center. But, before she exits the NICU, she discovers Ethan finishing a conversation with one of the neonatologists. Their eyes meet.

“Proud of you today, Tate,” Ethan offers a crooked smile.

Tatum dramatically steps closer to Ethan, crossing her arms as she raises an eyebrow. “Pardon me,” she lifts a hand up to cup her ears, “but did you just say, ‘You were right, Tatum; I was wrong’?”

Ethan pinches between his eyes while his other hand rests on his hip. “I’m never wrong--”

“Today you were--” she jovial pokes at him.

“You got lucky--”

“And you’re still bitter--”

“‘Bitter’?” Ethan scoffs, “of you--?”

“That someone’s medical intuition rivals your own--”

“Dare to dream, Dr. Erikson, but we both know exactly what your intuition is capable of--” The moment the words left his lips, a painful apologetic look plagues Ethan’s eyes as he watches the stunned hurt flash across hers. A thick silence floods between them, both of them unsure how to recover from such a low-blow of a remark. Tatum stares at the floor, unsure if she should just walk away.

“Tatum, I--” she shakes her head, waving her arm to dismiss the inevitable apology. She just wasn’t sure when she would stop paying for the sins of her past.

“So,” she tries to change subjects as a mischievous grin grows across her face. "I missed the memo. You're my boss."

"I'm your boss," he chuckles, crossing his arms.

"Hrmmm," Tatum raises her eyebrows, turning towards the door as a silence falls between them, again. She motions for the automatic door to open.

"Hrmmm what?" Ethan questions, turning towards her as the doors slowly open.

"Oh, I was just thinking," she lowers her voice, placing her hand on his arm. Ethan bites his lower lip as his cheeks begin to flush. His eyes flutter down to her lips before drifting back to her gaze. He swallows thickly.

"A-About what?" His tone matches hers.

She giggles letting go of his arm. She makes her way through the automatic doors and back en route to her department. But, not before she calls out over shoulder in a dark, sensually husky voice: "It wouldn't be the first time--" she twirls on her heel to look at him one more time, giving him a wink and a knowing smile, "--sir."

***

@chemist-ana @charlotteg234 @choiceskatie @forallthatitsworth @irisofpurple @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @neotericthemis @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @taniasethi @thefrenchiemama

#open heart #ethan ramsey #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey fanfiction #pixelberry #choices OH #choices OPH #drunken drabbles

[justthehiddleswrites]

Anesthesia | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  Tom suffers a serious car accident and the reader is the nurse on duty in the ER. Tom and anesthesia don't mix and Tom acts very out of character. Can Tom regain his composure or will he continue to shamelessly flirt with the reader? And is Benedict going to work all of this to his advantage?

Warnings: Car Accidents, Hospitals, Anesthesia Makes people act crazy, Tom quoting Shakespeare

-

“Tom?”

Tom’s eyes fluttered, and he blinked several times, adjusting to the bright white light.

“Nurse! He is waking up!”

Nurse? Waking up? Tom reached out and cold metal hit his hands. Safety rails. The air was cool, dry, and sterile. As he attempted to sit up, he felt a cold air hit his bare back.

“Hey buddy, lie back down. You gave us quite a scare,” the familiar voice reassured him as he lowered himself back down to the bed.

Tom turned his head to the sound and once he saw Benedict’s face he smiled. Ben smiled back.

“Welcome back to Earth, Tom.”

“Thanks, what happened?”

The last thing Tom remembered was climbing into the stunt car to rehearse the big action shot. After that, it was just flashes of fire, screams and sirens.

“The brakes failed and the stunt coordinator doesn’t know what happened. But the important thing is you got out alive.”

Tom attempted to sit up again and felt winces of pain throughout his body.

“What was the damage?”

Benedict looked down.

“To you or the car?”

“The car… of course me! I feel as though a Mack truck hit me.”

“You are not far off. You broke your clavicle, wrist, and a few ribs. Um… lacerations everywhere and a… a ruptured spleen.”

Tom twisted to see his friend’s face better and felt the stitches and bandages strain. He winced at the sharp pain on his left side. Benedict hit the call button and in minutes, the nurse arrived.

She smiled as she approached the bed.

“Feeling pain?”

Tom nodded.

She looked at your chart before adding some pain meds to Tom’s IV.

“That should do. I would suggest lying down and the doctor should be in about twenty minutes.”

Tom thanked her and couldn’t help but notice her gazing over her shoulder as she left the room. Her smile barely contained her giggles. Tom’s eyes widened.

“Do they know who I am?”

Benedict averted his eyes and rose from the chair, feigning interest in the generic artwork on the wall. Tom narrowed his eyes at the clear avoidance of the question.

“What are you not telling me?”

“Oh boy, you don’t remember anything when you got here, do you?”

Tom shook his head.

“No, what happened?”

“You were in a lot of pain. Tell me have you ever been under anesthesia before?”

“Maybe, once or twice…” Tom questioned, but then he stared his friend down for answers.

“What did I say, Ben?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Yes, I do. Sit down and tell me, and I will decide if you live or die.”

Dejected, Ben returned to the chair and let a sigh out.

“I’m sorry, Tom.”

Four Hours Earlier

The gurney burst through the ER doors just fifteen minutes after you started your shift. Emergency room shifts are never boring but physically and emotionally draining. You put down your cup of coffee and headed in to assess the patient.

A man lied, groaning on the gurney. His face covered in scrapes and blood staining his ginger whiskers. His left wrist sat at an unnatural angle and his shirt cut away by the paramedics to administer help.

“Car accident,” the EMT relayed, “stunt gone wrong.”

A specific hazard unique to Los Angeles. They wheeled him to the examination room and put him onto the bed with care. He wore a C-collar, but the jostling stirred the man. His eyelids fluttered open and his blue eyes work to focus on his surroundings.

“Hey…” you looked down at his chart, “Tom. How are you doing?”

“Pain.”

“I know you are in pain, but where?”

Tom gestured to the left side of his abdomen.

“Okay.” You grabbed some morphine and added it to his IV. “Any allergies?”

He shook his head.

“Anyone come with you?”

As if on cue, Benedict pulled back the curtain.

“I did.”

You recognized the man standing before you. Benedict Cumberbatch was quite the movie star.

“Really?” You attempted to keep your cool. This was no time for fan girling.

Within minutes, Benedict could communicate the information about not only the accident but Tom’s medical history as well. It had all been on file with the production company.

The doctor came in and did a quick examination.

“We need to get a CT scan and X-rays. Looks like there may be internal injuries.”

You nodded as you prepared to wheel Tom down the hall.

“Ready to go for a ride?” you asked.

Tom nodded and gave a goofy smile.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“Y/N, Y/N. That’s a beautiful name. My name is Tom Fucking Hiddleston.”

The drugs were doing their job.

“Nice to meet you, Tom. We will take you for some tests.”

“But I didn’t study!” he sounded dismayed.

You could not suppress your laugh.

“I think you will be fine.”

Tom grabbed your hand and looked up at you, tears in his eyes.

“Will you help me study?” he asked with a serious tone.

“Of course.”

Tom continued to babble on for the rest of the trip to imaging. He spoke about how nice you smelled and how pretty your eyes look. The full court press of flirting. As you reached the room, you and the other nurse lifted Tom onto the machine.

“Here you go.”

Tom grabbed your hand once again.

“Please don’t leave. I’m scared of the dark.”

While his words spoke of her fear, his eyes and smile said something else.

“Are you flirting with me, Mr. Hiddleston?”

His smile only grew.

“Is it working?”

You leaned in to his ear to whisper, “No, but the drugs are.”

Tom pouted.

“Not fair.”

“But you are cute.”

His face lit up once again.

“I came, saw and overcame.” Tom was being dramatic.

At that point, the other nurse started up the machine, and you walked away to let the rest of nurses to care for his needs. After his scans, you headed back to the waiting area. You found Benedict pacing the floor in anticipation. His long fingers alternating between steepling in front of his face and raking through his hair. As you approached, you cleared your throat.

“Yes?” his voice shared a tone of concern and hopefulness.

“A few broken bones but the big thing is that his spleen has ruptured. He needs surgery right away.”

Ben’s face fell.

“Will he be okay?”

You nodded.

“He will make a full recovery. Would you like to see him before they send him in to operating?”

You led Ben back to where they were prepping Tom for surgery. The anesthesiologist added drugs to the IV and Tom was now in a full hospital gown. His tattered rags of clothes in the garbage.

“No fair!” Tom bellowed as you entered with Ben throwing the thin sheet over his legs. The two of you shared a knowing look, “You have seen me naked but I have not had the chance to see you naked.”

You leaned into Benedict.

“It would seem that the medicine does not agree with your friend,” you smirked.

“Oh, I don’t know, I rather like him like this, so not proper. So not Tom Hiddleston.”

You smiled as you looked upon Tom who, in vain, tried to cover his body. Even loopy on drugs, he charmed and warmed your heart.

“I will leave you to it.”

As you turned to leave, Tom shouted at you.

“I love thee, Y/N. By which honor I dare not swear thou lovest me, yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost, not withstanding the poor and untempering effect of visage. And therefore tell me, most fair Y/N, will you have me?”

You suppressed a small giggle.

“I will see you later,” you let them both know as you shut the door.

As soon as the door latched, Tom grabbed Benedict’s arm and pulled him down close.

“Ben! Ben! Have you met my wife?”

Benedict screwed his face up with confusion.

“The nurse? That is just the drugs talking, Tom. You barely know her.”

“Nonsense. She will be my wife and you shall be my best man.”

Benedict looked at Tom with an exasperated face but Tom’s only contained earnest. With a chuckle, Benedict conceded.

“Very well, Tom. I will be your best man.”

Tom slapped Benedict’s shoulder.

“That’s the spirit. As my best man, I require you to acquire my future bride’s number.”

Benedict could not resist at this point to play along with his friend’s drug-addled fantasy.

“I will, on one condition.”

“Name your price.”

“Name your firstborn after me.”

“Consider it done.”

“Then consider the number yours.”

Tom’s face beamed and as if on cue, the nurses came to wheel Tom into surgery.

***

“Oh dear, God. I quoted Shakespeare.”

Tom hung his head and his face and neck turned a bright shade of red.

“Yep. The Henry the Fifth wooing speech too. Honestly, it was one of your better performances. Might I suggest doing all your roles drugged from now on.”

Tom shot Benedict a withering look.

“Ha ha. Very funny. I can’t show my face to her again.”

At that moment, the door opened, and you entered. The color drained from Tom’s face, while the smile grew on Benedict’s.

“Y/N!” Benedict cooed, “We were just talking about you. So nice of you to stop in.”

Your shift ended half an hour ago, but you wanted to check in on Tom before going home. Today was not the first time a patient hit on you, although they are usually not an award-winning actor with a penchant for quoting Shakespeare. But, you would remain ever the professional. You checked the chart before wishing the two men well.

As you turned to exit, Benedict walked you out.

“Thank you, Y/N for attending to Tom.”

“My pleasure. Even under the influence, he is quite charming.”

Benedict took this opportunity.

“Speaking about that…”

3 years later

“Tom!”

You yelled down the hall of your London home, beckoning your husband. At six months pregnant, getting up and down was no easy task. Tom rushed to your side. He gave you his arm and with a rocking start; you extracted yourself from the chair.

“Thanks, darling.”

“I am at your beck and call.”

You rubbed your swollen belly as you waddled your way down the hall. Tom followed you to the kitchen.

“Now about names for this little young man here.”

Tom grew ashen. He thought he could avoid this conversation, but it seems his luck had run out.

“Yeah, I have I mentioned today that I love you.”

Tom kissed your lips, and you looked at him with distrust.

“What have you done?”

Tom smiled and rubbed his neck, a nervous habit.

“I may have promised to name the child after Benedict.”

Tom flinched.

“You what? Why on earth would you do that?”

“It was for a good cause.”

“Which was?”

“Your phone number.”

With that, Tom took off down the hallway. You smiled as you walked with much effort behind him.

“We are NOT naming our child after breakfast food!”

You heard Tom’s laughter fill the house.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston fluff

[apocalypticgargoyle]

"9-1-1, what is your emergency?"

I've heard that on TV shows all the time, but hearing it with my own ears is new. I'm scared.

"Hello, hi, uhm." What do I say? How do I do this? "I'm on interstate four, right by the exit to route 408 and I just watched a car go over the side." It feels not real, feels like I'm watching an action movie or one of those dashcam tiktoks that find their way onto my for you page from time to time.

"What interstate four, northbound or south?"

I look to the sign, forgetting that I've driven on this road a million times, still reeling. "North- northbound on four."

"I've dispatched emergency services to you. Can you see the driver?"

I can't even see the car, just the chunks taken out of the concrete barrier where the car hopped it, can see the brake lights still though. "Not where I am but I'm- I pulled off to the shoulder, I can get out and go see if they're okay."

"You don't have to do that, ma'am." A million things are running through my mind, but one sticks out.

"I'm, uh, I'm first aid trained, and I took an EMT class for extra credit in college, I might be able to help?" I turn my keys in the ignition, make sure to keep my hazards on and pocket them, dig through my glove box for the bare bones first aid kit I got when I got the car last year.

"Emergency services are 5 minutes out. I can walk you through helping and give them a better picture if you go over there, but you don't have to. Help is on the way."

"I'm going to see if I can help." Opening the driver's side door seems much too scary, with cars whizzing past going well over the 65 miles per hour speed limit. It's 3 in the morning, and there are no speed traps on this stretch of the interstate. People speed, and they go way over. Instead, I opt to climb over to the passenger seat, careful not to accidentally turn off my hazards, and start over to the crumbled concrete and brake lights. I can hear the driver before I see him, yelling for help. I call out to him.

"Thank god, can you call 911?" He yells, and then I see him. He's laid up between the dash and a cracked but not shattered windshield, curled to see me through the passenger side window, which is gone.

"I'm on the phone with them now, they're, how many minutes is it, 911 lady?"

"Gigi, two minutes out. Can you see the driver? Does he have any visible injuries?"

"Two minutes out, yeah, he's got cuts on his face and his arms, and-" It registers then, that I can see the bones of his arm jutting out of his elbow, and his leg is bent at an impossible angle, and his nose is much too bloody to still be intact. "I think a couple broken bones, too." It's then that I hear the sirens, loud honking, and look to see flashing lights moving down the road. "They're almost here, dude, just keep hanging out."

There's really not all that much distance between where he went over and the ground, so it's easy to clear the wall and land on the ground. Up closer, I can see the puddle of blood he's laying in, bubbling steady out of a large cut in his leg. A flash of my EMT class comes through, it's an artery, somewhere in his leg, and you need to tourniquet it, like ASAP. The truck is still honking, backed up in the saturday night orlando traffic and people pulling to the side to let them through and while I can see and hear it, there's a good half mile wall of bumper to bumper pulling off to give space. No clear path.

"Hey, are you, how do you feel?"

"I feel like shit for crashing my buddy's car, but that's about it right now. Why?" Asking that after you hopped an embankment crashing a car seems kinda weird, but ok?

"I think I need to, like, help you with your leg? Can I?" He nods. I close the distance between me and his car door and manage to open it enough so I can get in the car. It's awkward and there's no real good footing, but I manage to wedge myself in enough to get in a stable spot. "Let's see if I can remember how to do this. I need-"

Ever the helpful phone call, Gigi reminds me. "You need to tie something just above where he's bleeding, tight as you can. A cut seatbelt, a t shirt, something like that." There is nothing like that in my immediate vicinity except for my own shirt, which, I can give up my shirt for this guy, there's another one shoved somewhere in my trunk. It gets stripped off quickly and Gigi helps with directions all the way through. My hands shake vigorously, but I manage to get it to the point where I can't visibly see volumes of blood pour out of him, so I count it as a win.

I look at the truck, still pretty stuck where it is, but the ambulance is getting through, still huge but better able to work through the gaps between the large quantity of cars.

"Am I going to die? Is that why you keep looking to see where they are? Cause I'm going to die?"

"No." I speak firmly despite the panic coursing through my veins, the fear that I might be lying right to his face. "No. The paramedics are almost here and they're gonna help you and get you to the hospital and all that. You're not gonna die." I read somewhere once that in that situation you have to reassure people. They don't fight to live if they think they might die.

The stretch of time that passes before there's an EMT in front of me feels like a lifetime, even if it's only a couple of minutes. And the first thing I notice is that his gaze travels down my body, catching at my chest and oh, yeah, I gave my shirt to the bleeding guy and should probably get out of the paramedic's way. I make to go back and get the extra shirt I know I have in my backseat but I get stopped on my way by another EMT who wants to check and make sure I'm okay.

"I wasn't in the car, I called it in." I wave my phone, which still has 911 on the line, but the paramedic insists, points to a cut on my arm I hadn't realized I'd gotten. I get led to sit on the tailgate of an ambulance, watching firefighters run past from the truck that finally got through carrying loads of stuff, heavy equipment with ease. Nimble fingers clean out the cut before deciding it's not deep enough for stitches, just using steri-strips and wrapping it in gauze with gentle hands and a reserved smile.

"Jade, we need to get going with him!" The first EMT I saw calls while running with a gurney, the guy from the accident strapped against a yellow board with my work shirt still tied around his leg. The paramedic helping me jumps into action, ushers me into the ambulance and helps the guy get the gurney in.

"Sit down, buckle up." He says, looking at me. Jade turns and gives me a bit of a sympathetic look.

"He's always like this. You have to get that checked in the ER still." Oh. Okay. I sit down, strap into the seat, and the ambulance starts moving before the doors are fully closed. They get the car guy all hooked up to all kinds of machines and fuss over him, till the monitor beeping with what I assume is his heart rate steadies, and then the EMT guy visibly relaxes, eyes landing on me again. I cross my arms over my chest, much more self conscious of my state of dress with his gaze on me. He's, unfairly attractive, wavy blonde hair and toned skin, wrapped in an unbelievably tight uniform.

"D'you- here." And then he starts unbuttoning his uniform shirt, and I'm sure my eyes go wide. There's another shirt on under, just as tight with the fire department logo emblazoned on the chest of it. He shrugs off the button down and pulls the t shirt over his head and dear lord, why the hell do men feel so called to wear wife beaters under their clothes, I wanna see how fucking hot he is. The t shirt gets tossed into my lap. He really just- gave me the shirt off his back. My gaze locks on to it, only being torn away from the offending garment when he clears his throat and I snap back up to see him, button up back on his shoulders but undone, face sheepish and what I'd guess to be a blush tinting his skin further in the half dark of the ambulance. "You looked uncomfortable."

It's my turn to go red, flush covering most of my skin and incredibly visible. "Thanks." It takes a moment of maneuvering to get the shirt on with the seatbelt, but it's warm and smells of laundry detergent and a hint of cologne.

"Dream, only fuckin' you." His head whips to the other EMT.

"Only fuckin' me what? Huh?" Jade just laughs, head shaking from side to side.

"Only fuckin' you would give the first girl your age on a call the shirt off your damn back." If he wasn't blushing before, he is now, reaching a hand up to rub at the back of his neck.

"Sorry if that's weird."

"No, it's- I appreciate it." I do.

"Good work, with the tourniquet. He'd be dead by now without it." Is that really the best thing to say while the guy can hear us? Maybe not. Speaking of the guy,

"Is his leg supposed to turn blue like that?" The relaxation in his face vanishes that instant as he hauls up, moves to where he can look up close at the leg, tearing up the leg of the guy's pants.

"Jade, I need to set it so he can keep the leg, can you keep him still?" A distinct yes, and then I get to watch as his muscles flex, hands gripping tight to the broken leg of this guy, and then an audible crack resounds through the small space of the ambulance as he pushes his body forward. The car guy's closed eyes shoot open, mouth gaping in a yell of pain underneath of an oxygen mask. I'm sure that probably hurts like a bitch, and suddenly I am very grateful that I've never broken a bone.

There's not much left in the ride. The two EMTs, Jade and Dream, mainly continuing to work on keeping his monitor from making the erratic beeping it has been letting out from time to time. The ER is a blur of people bustling around the guy, but I get led from the ambulance by a doctor to check the cut on my arm before he comes to the same conclusion that no, I do not need stitches, but that I do need to change the dressing once a day and gives me some disinfectant cream to put on it when I do. While he cleans the wound out, he asks in a lilted british accent. "Did you really tourniquet the guy with your shirt?"

"Yeah, I did. The one thing I remembered from my EMT class, really came in handy." I joke, and he laughs.

"Well the guy is lucky you did. You're an EMT?" I shake my head, and wince a bit when he presses a bit too hard.

"Nah, I wait tables at the Waterfront in South Orange. Took an EMT class for a summer course cause I thought it'd be fun." He hums, turning to grab more bandages to rewrap my forearm.

"Well maybe you should look into it. Quick thinking like that would get you far there."

"I might." It's a real possibility. My accounting major proved to get me the single most boring desk job ever, and I've been looking into other career paths recently. He smiles at me when he finishes wrapping, pulls a card out of his pocket and a pen, scribbles something on the back of it.

"Put me as a reference if you decide you want to." That's, incredibly nice.

"I will, thank you, uhm," The name stitched into his coat is hard to make out. "Doctor Davidson?"

"George. You're good to go, just need to fill out a little paperwork and then you can leave." He walks over to grab a clipboard and a form, brings it back to me, and then heads over to another bed with a little girl in it, pulling a curtain closed behind him.

A week later, I find myself outside of the massive firehouse on Central Boulevard. There's a couple guys in shirts that match the one in my hand outside washing a firetruck, and one notices me and comes over. He's cute. Dark hair that's a little longer than a boys regular, scraps of facial hair on his cheeks, and brown eyes that crinkle at the edges when he smiles.

"Y'need help with something?" His voice confirms the fact that he's young, and it takes me a minute to pull my eyes away from the way his sleeves are tight around the muscle of his arms.

"Uh, yeah, I'm looking for Dream?" I hold up the shirt and the brownies I made as a last minute addition for the firehouse.

"Ahh, shirt girl. Follow me." He heads into the building through one of the massive garage doors, and it is remarkably clean inside. He heads up some stairs to a balcony that overlooks the firetrucks, and both of the paramedics who had helped me are sitting there, talking over plates of pasta. The guy leading me clears his throat and they both look up.

"Hi." I say awkwardly with a small wave. "I brought your shirt back." Dream flusters, standing up to take the shirt from my hands with a thank you and I give him the brownies, too.

"Dream, cough them up, I want one."

"Sap, shut the hell up, here." He places them gently on the table.

"Okay, what's with your guy's names? No way his name is Sap." All three of them laugh.

"They're nicknames." Dream laughs. "My real name is Clay, and his is Nick. Jade is just Jade though, haven't gotten a nickname for them yet." He looks over his shoulder back at his coworker. "Coward." I feel like there's a story here that I don't know, but I don't press for it.

"I mean, I told you my last station called me Storm, so unless you can top that you can call me Jade and nothing else." I like Jade. Jade's funny.

Clay just rolls his eyes, no real malice behind it. "It's gotta be one we give to you. I'm thinking something about you being our getaway driver."

"Dream if you make a baby driver joke right now I swear you will not live to see tomorrow." He laughs, hard and wheezing, sounding nearly painful.

"Fine, fine." He turns to me. "Thank you for returning this." There's a distinct red flush creeping up his neck, but his smile is genuine, green eyes bright with it. Shit. Why do they have to be unfairly attractive? Who's idea was it? Huh? "I'll walk you out."

He walks me all the way to my car, standing awkwardly next to the door of my car.

"Well, I'll let you get back to work. You got lives to save."

"Wait," He says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. "I'm sorry if this is too forward, but could I get your number?" Oh. Oh.

"Yeah, of course." He hands me his phone and I punch in my contact, handing his phone back to him. "You should text me so I have yours."

The smile on his face is fitting, full of white teeth and bright happiness. "I will."

I don't think I put my phone down for a week. Clay and I text nearly non stop, and I learn a lot about him in the process. He has a cat (a beautiful tabby named patches who purrs very loudly), he's from Orlando (born and raised, baby.), he wanted to be a firefighter because his dad was one, but his mom who's a nurse had him take EMT training instead (I owe her everything for that), and that he's off work this Friday and wants to head out for drinks with a couple of his fire station buddies and me. I also start getting snapchats from that cute coworker of his, Nick.

I can't tell if Nick intends to be flirting with me or is just trying to get to know the girl his "best fucking friend" is talking to, but... I am definitely feeling some type of way about both of them. It's great, the attention is nice, until Nick invites me out to drinks with them on Friday night not three hours after Clay does.

I feel like my best bet is to be honest with them. I'm not one for lying. And then a new groupchat shows up on my phone. It's got Clay and a number I don't have saved in my phone, and there's a message sent, and then another. I'm scared to open it.

I expect it to be both of them mad that I'm talking to the other and instead it's not? There's a message from Clay and it's-

Dreamie

Hey, I just talked to Nick and wanted to make this groupchat with the three of us. I'm not mad you're talking with him, and he's not mad you're talking to me. We both really like you, and are open to letting you make the decision for yourself if you end up with one of us. Just wanted to communicate that with you :)

And another from who I'm assuming is Nick that says:

Unknown Number

its up to you what happens and if your not ok with this then just tell us and we'll back off.

It's not something I've experienced before talking with two guys at once. Talking with two guys at once that know and work with each other with their consent? Never would have imagined it in a million years. But this is probably the best way to go about it.

Three more days pass before I see either of them in person, still having plans to go out for drinks with Clay on Friday. I end up sandwiched in between the two of them in a both of some firefighter bar on the south side of the city. I feel awkward tucked between them until I get a bit of alcohol flowing through my veins, and then conversation comes like second nature. It's not crazy eventful, feels like I'm hanging out with close friends rather than basically strangers, and it's nice.

The night passes quick, but it's still fun, especially when Clay drives me home and drops me at the bottom of my apartment building with a promise of more plans and a quick kiss that leaves him blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

In the morning, I wake up to go into work and see a text from Nick, inviting me to dinner with him tonight. I shoot back with a sure, I'd love to. Getting off work at four so that's perfect. and he just sends back a :) and an "I'll pick you up at 7." that makes my shift drag on and on. True to his word, he's outside my apartment building at 7 pm sharp in a button down with his hair brushed neatly behind the wheel of a toyota corolla.

"Where are we even going for dinner?" Nick just shoots me a smile and fucking winks at me.

"You'll see. It's a surprise."

It ends up being some hole in the wall chinese restaurant with what Nick claims is "the best moo goo gai pan in the city". It's fucking amazing, that's for sure, a steaming wok full of it in front of the two of us with plates of fried rice to go with it. It's not an experience I've had at a restaurant before and it's insanely fun. Nick pokes fun at my inability to use chopsticks, tells stories about his friend making fun of him for not being able to use them and learning how at three o'clock in the morning. We're constantly laughing between bites of amazing food, and this easily makes my top three first dates of all time. He refuses to let me pay for my half, but he does let me get the tip after I insist several times that its the least I could do. 

We're halfway through a really good conversation about something that doesn't matter when he pulls up to my apartment, and, not wanting that to end, I invite him upstairs with me. 

"Oh? It's my turn to come up with you?" He teases, and I'm confused for a second before I realize, oh yeah, I'm essentially talking with him and his best friend. 

"What do you mean turn? Clay didn't come up with me, he-" It's probably not the best idea to say he kissed me, I don't want to make Nick jealous. "He dropped me off at the door and he said goodbye." It's not- a lie, per say, but the second it passes my lips I feel guilty, knowing that we need to be honest for this to even have a shot at working. "He kissed me goodbye though." Honesty. We need honesty.

I don't really know what to expect as a reaction from him, but it's not a smile, cocky as ever. 

"Does that mean if I go up with you that I get a kiss too?" Nice, easy, no drama with honesty. 

"Maybe. You'd have to come find out." The grin he's got stays plastered to his face the whole time we're in the elevator, the whole time he's talking mindlessly about the distinct lack of fire safety in the building, the whole time I'm fighting with the works half the time lock on my door. "It's probably too late for coffee, but I have tea in the fridge or coke, or water if you want it." I say, turning to close the door behind us. 

"I'm all good, thank you though." The smile's still there, crinkling his eyes and baring white teeth. "Could go for a kiss, now that I think about it." I shake my head, but still, I laugh. 

"What is it that they call it?"

"Kissing? Lip locking? Smooching?"

"One track mind." That one earns a laugh, a hearty one from deep in his throat.

"You're funny." He says, grabbing my hand and gently tugging me to come sit on the couch with him. "And cute." He sits, pulls me with him so I end up sideways in his lap. The hand he led me over with comes up to brush some of the hair out of my face. "And unbelievably pretty. How could I think about anything else?" 

Smooth. Smooth as fucking butter. Smooth enough for him to earn a quick press of my lips to his own. I can feel him smiling before I pull back, but he chases, returning with a kiss just as chaste before leaning back into the couch, looking like the cat who got the cream.

"I'm winning. I got two kisses." I roll my eyes.

"Isn't it quality over quantity?" He hums, eyes playing from my lips to my own. 

"Why not both?"

"Haha, funny." They're playful, his eyes, as we talk. His bottom lip juts out in a joking pout, and I lean in to kiss at it. He moves at the last second, though, closes the last little bit of space between us when he moves forward to kiss me, soft and slow. His lips are slightly chapped, ever so gentle as the press against mine. My hands press into his thighs to keep me up as his hands come to wrap loosely around my shoulders and he pushes further into the kiss before pulling back. 

"Quality?" 

"Need more data." I say before our lips meet again. He's sweet with it, the way he kisses me. It's nice, easy, feels familiar even though it isn't, not yet. One of his hands moves to rub soft at the nape of my neck. 

I'm just getting comfortable in it when he deepens the kiss, tongue soft against the seam of my lips. It draws a gasp, just what he needs to push further, licking into my mouth before catching my bottom lip between his teeth, worrying at it. He's a good fucking kisser, hahh's into my mouth when I bring my hands up to tug at the dark strands of hair on the back of his head. 

But like all good things, it must come to an end. Unfortunately, that end is when my phone starts blaring the insanely annoying ringtone my friend set it as that I don't know how to change. 

"Nick, I gotta-" 

"Yeah." His arms drop, letting me stand so I can grab my phone and answer whoever is calling. 

"Hello?" 

"We have new information regarding student loan repayment in your area." Is loud in my ear, so I just pull back and press the red end call button.

Nick laughs a little. "Not important?"

"Spam call. Can't be assed to get put on the do not call list right now. I was doing research."

"Yeah? You happy with the results you're getting?" 

This motherfucker I swear.

"This motherfucker I swear." Is also the first thing I say in the morning when I wake up for work and there's a fat hickey on the side of my neck, dark purple and blatantly obvious. I send him a snap of it, just saying really? and he sends back a picture of himself and Clay sitting on the tailgate of a ladder truck with a :) and I am instantly worried that one, Clay saw the snap I sent him and two, that I won't be able to cover it for work. Pushing the first thought out of my mind to focus on the second, I try to get it as normal looking as I can before my shift. It's not perfect, not by a long shot, but it's good enough.

I'm riding the high of not getting comments on it at work when that first thought comes back, catalysted by a snapchat from Clay, a picture barely of his hair with the geotag from the gym down the street from the firehouse with text across it that says "purple looks good on you." I don't know how to respond to that, just send back the floor in front of me. oh come on now  pops up in the chat, and he's still typing. not mad. excited for my turn.  Right.

sorry  I shoot back. this is all pretty new to me

trying to be careful cause i dont wanna mess this up

The little bitmoji he has attached to his account pops up in the corner, lurking for a moment before he starts typing

having these chats is what makes it work. I don't go bragging to Nick about what you and I do, and he doesn't do that to me, but we don't lie about what happens. 

its alot, and none of us have done this before

but keeping communication open and honest is how it works

and that means feelings talks 

He's right. 

youre right

He is. I don't want to make them jealous of each other and that's probably the best way to combat that.

we also have to keep things fair ;) so i get a date too

That has me smiling like an idiot at my phone.

yeah? you got one planned?

not exactly. you doing anything rn though?

I was going to make a sandwich and watch She's the Man for the third time this month.

was gonna watch a movie if you wanna join?

I get a sure, would love to  and a could i trouble you for a pick up from the station?  that has me grabbing my keys and jogging to the elevator faster than I would like to admit.

When I get there, I head inside to say hi to Nick and collect Clay after both of them have assured me that I'm allowed to do so. I don't see Nick when I first walk in, but I do see Clay and jesus, mary, and joseph his hands. He's working over a slab of what seems to be silicon with those massive fingers moving with the utmost precision. When I get a little closer I can see that he's making sutures to close gashes and holes in the mat. I'm impressed with how uniform they are, each a perfect match of the one before it, and with the speed that his hands were moving, I'd say its even more impressive. I'm- not a perfect person, and the thought of what those hands could do to me has me flushing. 

He's pretty wrapped up in what he's doing so I don't want to bother him, but I'm watching so intently that I don't notice Nick come up to me until he hugs me from behind. It makes me jump.

“Shit, Nick, you scared me.”

-gg w the 911 au update

Gg I'm 😩😩😩 you are an amazing writer 🛐 teach me

#pigeon mail #gg my dear

[hmslusitania]

Prompt: AU to 2.01. during the workout scene Eddie brings up Abby and Buck feels hurt and betrayed that Chim would share his private life with basically a stranger. When Chim says Eddie’s cool Buck says he can be wary of the new guy who gets so comfortable right off the bat when Buck himself got hazed like crazy as a probie. When Chim says Abby’s not a big deal Buck turns to Eddie and asks if he found his abandonment amusing. Eddie feels horrible and Chim finally understands his screw up. Buddie

Hi Anon! I’m not 100% sure this will satisfy your prompt, for which I apologise. That said, in a longer fic I’m currently working on, this scene gets examined hardcore from both Buck and Eddie’s POV and I hope to post that fic soon, so if this does not quite do it, hopefully that will. All that said, I do hope you enjoy this:

--

The kid is like a brother to him, but good god. It’s only Eddie’s second shift and they haven’t even all clocked in yet, and Buck is already being a dick. Chimney sighs – on the inside – and keeps buttoning his shirt while Buck slams locker doors and Eddie just tries to change.

When Buck finally stomps out of the locker room, Eddie takes a second and then turns to Chim.

“So, is it just me, or…”

“Try not to take it personally,” Chim recommends. He likes Eddie, has liked him since they met. It’s nice to have another medic on the shift, even if Eddie isn’t certified as a paramedic like him and Hen. Bobby’s and Buck’s EMT certification is great and useful but sometimes that little bit of extra medical knowledge comes in handy.

“So he’s just a dick to everyone?” Eddie asks.

Chim sighs. “Nah,” he says. “He’s just – look, the kid’s got a heart of gold, he really does, and most of the time he’s the sweetest guy you’ll meet, like a giant 6’2 golden retriever, but his first serious girlfriend just dumped him and then ghosted him, and he’s been a bit…in a bad mood.”

Although, now that he thinks about it, Buck’s straight up denial about Abby having dumped him has kept his mood afloat well enough. Up until Eddie showed up at the 118. But Chimney can’t fathom how the two would be related.

Eddie nods like that makes sense and they continue getting ready for their shift.

Chimney does his best to stay out of Buck’s way for most of the morning. It’s only by coincidence he finds himself in the gym at the same time as Buck and Eddie. Buck, clearly trying to comfort himself with the hot firefighter calendar, starts taking selfies over by the bench press.

Chimney does not know why Eddie decides to start something.

“You’re in the wrong light, man,” Eddie says. Chim frowns. Light? For a selfie?

“Some of us don’t need lighting to look good,” Buck shoots back.

Chim glances at Buck, but he’s distracted by himself.

“Hey, Eddie? What did you mean by the wrong light?” Chim asks.

Eddie explains about warm side lighting as opposed to flat blue light, and shows off the pictures his niece had taken for him. Chimney doubts that most of the effect is just because of lighting. As he’d pointed out on Eddie’s first shift, that is a beautiful man.

Still, having well done photos can’t hurt.

“You think she’d be willing to take my pictures for me? I’m told I photograph like an Asian Fabio,” Chim says, which gets him a laugh from Eddie.

“Sure she would,” he says.

And then, of course, Hurricane Buck.

“You shouldn’t get his hopes up,” he says to Eddie, all glower. “No offence, Chim.”

Chimney isn’t sure how he’s supposed to take that as anything but offensive. But—

He’s got a heart of gold, Chim reminds himself. He’s got a goddamn heart of gold.

“None taken,” he says, heading back to his bench dips. “Evan.”

He gets maybe two reps in before he hears Eddie say, “Okay, man, what’s your problem?”

Chimney winces and looks over to see Buck getting up in Eddie’s face.

“Okay, you,” Buck says. Chimney frowns. Eddie? It really is personal? “You’re my problem. Your comfort level. You’re – you’re not supposed to just walk in here like you’ve been here for years. There’s supposed to be a getting-to-know-you period. You’re meant to respect your elders.”

That’s what Buck is pissed about?

“You’re not his elder, Buck,” Chim points out. As he says it, he realises he doesn’t actually know how old Eddie is. He’s been assuming due to his work history that he’s on the other side of thirty from Buck, but he doesn’t actually know.

“Look,” Eddie says. He sounds calm and rational, in complete contrast to Buck’s anger and irritation, which Chim takes as a good sign. “I in no way meant to, uh, be too familiar or step on anybody’s toes. I know you’re going through some personal stuff right now.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Chimney can see Buck flinch.

“What personal stuff?” he asks.

Whoops.

“I know your girlfriend recently broke up with you and you’re coming to terms with that,” Eddie says.

“No, I’m not,” Buck says. Which, points for honesty, Chim thinks. “And she didn’t break up with me. Who told you that?”

When they both turn to look at him, Chim tries to melt into his exercise equipment.

“I’m just saying, I hear you’re a good guy, and I’m sorry you’re going through pain but you don’t need to take it out on me,” Eddie says.

“I’m not in pain,” Buck snaps, wounded.

Chim doesn’t mean to heave a dramatic sigh, but it happens. Buck rounds on him.

“And why are you telling all of my personal shit to strangers?” Buck asks.

Chim winces. There are a lot of reasons – Eddie asked; Eddie is already a clear part of the team, not a stranger; because Chimney’s worried about him and gossip is how they deal with things at the 118; but he doesn’t think Buck’s in a mood to accept any of those.

“I asked if you were pissed at me or something else,” Eddie says. “And I’m sorry about your girlfriend, man, I know what it’s like to have someone you thought loved you disappear on you in the dead of night.”

Chimney stops doing his dips and turns to scan Eddie, concerned. But Eddie’s just looking at Buck.

“She didn’t – I drove her to the airport,” Buck says.

He sounds so damn small and vulnerable that despite how much of a dick he’s been recently, Chim kind of wants to just hug him. He’s spent so much of the past four months since Abby left acting like he was completely fine most of the time, and so they hadn’t really…

Well, they hadn’t been there for him. Bobby’s got his reasons, Chim knows, since Hen’s almost certainly right about the secret Bobby-Athena relationship going on in the background. But Chim and Hen could’ve done better.

“Look, man, all I can tell you is that staying in denial isn’t gonna help,” Eddie says. “You’re still gonna get the divorce papers in the mail eventually.”

“We weren’t—” Buck starts and Chimney almost jumps into the conversation to make sure Buck isn’t actually that stupid. “Oh.”

“Truce?” Eddie asks, taking off one of his boxing gloves and holding his hand out in Buck’s direction.

Buck swallows and, after a long, awkward moment, takes Eddie’s hand. “You’re still a probie.”

“I promise you, there is no worse hazing you can do to me than the guys in Afghanistan already did,” Eddie says.

Chimney wonders if he feels like eating those words later that night when Eddie and Buck get into an ambulance with a live grenade. Chim and Hen aren’t on the call with them, since they were already doing a transport from the previous call, but when they all get back to the station, something has clearly shifted between Buck and Eddie.

“You two idiots got in an ambulance with a live grenade?” Hen demands, hands on her hips. Chim has seen her deploy this expression at Denny before. It usually gets her immediate apologies and chagrin.

“Eddie was an army medic,” Buck says. “We were totally safe.”

“Until the ambulance exploded,” Eddie points out.

“Yeah, but we weren’t in it anymore,” Buck says, knocking his shoulder into Eddie’s while they sit at the kitchen counter together. Hen shakes her head slowly, like she can’t believe what she’s hearing. “And besides! We saved the patient.”

“Which is what matters,” Eddie adds.

Hen throws her hands up, exasperated. “I’m so glad there are two of you now.”

She stalks off and Chim watches while Buck and Eddie exchange bright smiles. Chim couldn’t say for sure, but he thinks the last time Buck smiled like that, he was talking to Abby. Which is certainly a development Chim didn’t see coming.

He finds Buck later in the bunks.

“Hey,” he says, knocking on Buck’s partition. Buck isn’t asleep, he’s just scrolling through his phone. “Got a sec?”

“Sure,” Buck says, sitting up and dropping his phone into his lap.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” Chim says. “Telling Eddie about Abby, I mean. I don’t think any of us really realised how much you’re still hurting over that.”

“I’m fine,” Buck says. It’s too quick, and just a bit too sharp to be genuine.

Chim just waits.

“I’m – I’ve – I’ve been single for four months, haven’t I?” Buck asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Chim says, because Eddie had pointed out, denial just hurts more.

“Great,” Buck says. He clears his throat a couple times like he’s trying to get rid of a blockage. Chimney takes that as an opportunity to clap him on the shoulder.

“You’ve still got your family,” Chim says. “By which I mean the 118, because as far as you’ve said, you may as well have sprung out of the ground fully formed.”

Buck snorts. “I’ve got a sister,” he says, which is the first biological family member Chimney has ever heard Buck mention. “Maddie. She’s actually sleeping on my couch right now.”

“God, a female Buck,” Chim says. “I can’t even imagine how terrifying that must be.”

Buck scoffs and elbows him. “She’s not like me at all. You might even like her. She’s basically the best person ever, just a heart of pure gold.”

Chimney doesn’t quite trust Buck’s judgement when it comes to his sister, but if he’s right, well…

“Certain shitty comments you’ve made recently aside, that sounds exactly like you, Buckaroo,” Chim says.

“Thanks, Chim,” Buck says and sounds like he means it. “And I’m sorry for being a dick.”

Chim nods and claps him on the shoulder again before turning to head back to his own bunk.

“Hey, Chim?”

Chimney pauses.

“Do you think Eddie’s—”

Chimney waits, but all Buck says is “never mind.”

Their next call isn’t until morning when they find a group of idiots who have cemented their friend’s head into a microwave. When the kid falls into a pool, Buck jumps in to save him without hesitation and Eddie is only a split second behind him.

Chim doesn’t think about it until they’re all back at the station and changing out for the end of shift, but he thinks that this particular level of drift compatibility between Buck and Eddie might be a bit of a dangerous thing.

When they’re all back in civvies, Eddie says goodbye to everyone and starts to leave, only for Buck to follow him out, calling, “Hey! Eddie! There’s a really great brunch place down the street if you want to grab something, maybe?”

Chim and Hen watch them go, and wait until they’ve both driven off – together, even if in separate vehicles – before commenting.

“They’re gonna give us all heart attacks, aren’t they,” Hen says, resigned.

“Oh yeah,” Chim agrees.

“At least Buck seems happier?” Hen asks.

“Small victories,” Chim replies. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“See you then,” she says, going back to cleaning her locker.

Chimney only makes it as far as the parking lot before he’s stopped dead in his tracks by a breathtakingly beautiful woman. He’s never been a poetry kind of guy, but he’s pretty sure he could wax poetic about the bright stars in her eyes for several days if pressed. It doesn’t hurt that she’s holding a large Tupperware of baked goods.

“How can I help?” Chim asks, swallowing his gum. There’s nowhere to spit it out and no way to do that in front of a pretty girl that doesn’t look tacky.

“I was actually looking for Evan Buckley,” she says. “I wanted to surprise him. He said he was having a kind of intense shift.”

Chimney feels an instant spike of envy, and then realises who she is.

“You must be Buck’s sister,” he says.

“I am,” she agrees. “Maddie Kendall. Well, Buckley, again, I guess.”

“I’m Chimney,” he says, offering her his hand to shake.

She balances the container of baked goods on one forearm and shakes his hand. “It’s nice to put a face to a name. Buck says you’re one of the best guys at the station.”

Chimney can’t help but smile at that. “That’s funny, I was just saying the same thing about him.”

Maddie laughs and Chimney is struck by the desire to make her laugh always.

He stands there, grinning at her like an idiot, for much longer than he should until Maddie finally says, “So, where would I find him?”

“Oh! Sorry! You just missed him,” Chimney says. “He already left for a brunch date with the probie.”

Maddie’s eyebrows lift, delighted. “A date?”

Chim shrugs. “I’m not sure either of them knows that part, but definitely.”

“How about I put these down somewhere and you tell me absolutely everything,” Maddie suggests, holding up the box of muffins.

“I don’t know if I should,” Chim says, showing her up the stairs to the loft where D shift are working on the coffee maker. “I kinda got in trouble for telling people things about him recently.”

“Mm, big sister’s prerogative,” Maddie says, happily accepting the cup of coffee Chimney offers her.

“Okay, but if he yells at me again, I’m blaming you,” Chimney says. He takes one of the muffins from the now open container and groans. So not only is she gorgeous and the best person ever by Buck’s estimation, she can also cook and she thinks Chimney is funny. “These are amazing.”

“Thank you,” Maddie says. “And I’m sure we can work something out about Buck re blame. So long as you dish.”

Chimney grins. “Deal.”

#the ghost ship scribbles #the ghost ship answers questions #9-1-1 #9-1-1 fic #pre-buddie #pre-madney #2x01 revisioning #Anonymous

[poc-movie-supremacy]

I’m coming home to you

Christopher wanted to see his Buck today and who was Eddie to refuse? They picked up Buck for a nice day at the pier. When things go from great to catastrophic, will Eddie reunite with Buck and Christopher. Based off this tumblr post by @sexyapplemilk

This story is for @sexyapplemilk/ @fandom-101 @its-like-looking-in-3d

Thank you to @not-falling-but-flying for reading over this long long fic!

I hope you guys like it!

----

Eddie and Buck had the same day off. Well Eddie had the day off and Buck didn’t have work but potato potatoe. It was Saturday so Chris didn’t have school today either. 

Eddie was sitting across from Chris at the breakfast table munching their way through breakfast. It had been a quiet morning so far, Chris was lost in his own thoughts. Eddie wondered if his kid was planning anything, but decided not to put much thought into it. 

“Daddy can we see Bucky today?” The question made Eddie cock his eyebrow. He knew that Buck had been wallowing in his bed for the past few days after he got the news he couldn’t go back to work just yet. Part of him didn’t want to disturb the younger man, but the other part of him figured this could be good for Buck. Also he can’t say no to his kid. 

“Let me ask him if he’s free.” Eddie will probably come over anyways, Buck can’t get mad at him, he had Chris. “Finish your breakfast first though mijo.” Chris shouts in joy and resumes eating his breakfast, bagel with fruits cause eddie can’t mess that up, with renewed rigour. Eddie smiles fondly at his kid while he takes a bit of fruit. 

Eddie made Chris finish getting ready for the day. They had to do Chris’s PT, get changed, fix their hair. Eddie combed his hair back, put on a nice white shirt and a plaid button up, jeans, and some sneakers. Chris put on a yellow stripped shirt and blue pants. He waited impatiently for his dad by the door. Eddie chuckled, unlocked the door then walked with his kid to the car. “What do you want to do for today Chris?”

“We can color or Bucky says he got a new video game!”

“You don’t want to go outside?” 

Chris looks at his dad curiously. Eddie helps him into the car then doubling back to get into the drivers seat. He starts the car and starts to drive. “What could we do outside?” 

“You could go to the park, play on the play structure?”

Chris wrinkles his nose. “Bucky can’t fit on it though, I know, we’ve tried.” Eddie laughs out loud at that. The idea of Buck trying to fit into a play structure is way too amusing. 

“Well okay then, no park, we could… go to the laser tag?”

“I promised I’d go with Denny next week though.”

“Hmmm yea we gotta keep our promises don’t we?”

“That’s what you always say.”

“Well maybe Buck will have better ideas huh?”

“Bucky has the best ideas!” 

---

They get up to Buck’s apartment and Eddie doesn’t knock, instead he just lets himself in. The apartment is eerily quiet and Eddie wonders if Buck wasn���t home. “Buck, Hey Buck me and Chris are here to hang out.” He looks around the apartment for any signs of his best friend. 

“Daddy look.” Chris points up to the loft to the mass on the bed.

Eddie smiles proudly at his kid. “Good job mijo. Go sit in the living room while I go rouse Buck.”

“Can I watch tv?”

“Sure kid.”

Eddie sets Chris up in the living room before heading up to Buck. The bedroom is a bit messy, loose clothes strung everywhere. The blinds are closed and all the lights are off. Any evidence Buck is here is the gigantic mass on the bed. Eddie frowns in worry, before getting to work. He opens up all the blinds and repeatedly pulled the covers off of Buck to force him to get up.

“Dude I have nothing to do today.”

“Nope, you're taking me and Chris, more importantly Chris, somewhere today. Heads up, he’s vetoed the park and laser tag and he’s downstairs. Get changed and start thinking of places to go. I’ll make you something to eat.”

Buck looks at him incredulously. “Eddie, you can’t cook.”

“Yea it’ll probably be toast or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but food is food and you need to eat.”

Eddie watches Buck calmly. Anger, confusion, acceptance and happiness flit across his face. He gives Eddie a smile before turning around. “Okay Eddie. Anything for my favorite Diaz.”

Eddie knows he means Chris, he still leaves the loft with a small smile.

---

The Diaz’s make Buck a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with some strawberries Eddie found in Buck’s fridge. Buck’s in a white shirt and a plain pink button up. His hair is slightly gelled up and any trace of sadness was gone from his eyes. Happily he let Chris pull him to the kitchen table. “Wow this all looks so good buddy, did you make it?”

Chris beamed. “No Dad helped a bit.”

“You coulda convinced me otherwise.” 

Chris giggled as Eddie rolled his eyes, “I cut up the strawberries.” Buck made a small noise of understanding before starting to eat. Chris quietly colored beside him. Occasionally he stole Buck’s strawberries. If Buck cared he didn’t comment on it.

“So have you picked where we’re going Buck?” Eddie asked.

“Yes actually, May’s been talking about visiting the Pier with her friends and I figured  if it was good enough for her, it’s good enough for us right? You wanna go to the pier buddy?”

“What’s on the pier?”

Buck’s face lit up in a blinding smile. Quickly he starts listing off all the unhealthy snacks sold at the pier. Eddie shakes his head and mock glares at Buck, but he only gets a cheeky grin in response. 

“You’re going to give him such a sugar high. Ugh, if you want to do this you have to put him to bed tonight.”

“You’re going to stay with us for the whole day?!” Chris smile could put the sun to shame. He looked eagerly between his father and his Buck.

“Sure Buddy if that’s what you want.” Chris nodded his head so fast he looked like a bobble head. 

Buck chuckled, “Okay buddy, I’ll hop you up on sugar then have the pleasure of tucking you in.” Buck sent Eddie a teasing smile, only to receive an eye roll in response. 

Once Buck finishes his food, the boys head for Buck’s jeep. They could’ve ridden in Eddie’s truck, but Buck likes driving more than Eddie. Chris’s car seat is transferred to the back of Buck’s jeep and they all pile in. Some top 40s song blares from the radio as they head to their destination. 

The wind feels nice in Eddie’s hair. He stares out the window as he listens to Chris and Buck have an animated conversation. Eddie doesn’t really pay attention to it, but it still sounds nice, his son and best friend being happy.  

“Will you ride with us Eddie?”

“Hmm?”

“The bumper cars? Do you want to ride on the bumper cars with us?”

“Oh why not. You sure though, I’ll kick your butt.”

Buck squacks offendedly. “As if, I’m a pro at bumper cars Diaz. In fact I should be asking if you’re okay going against me.” Buck flashes him a cocky smile and Eddie gives him a deadpan stare. He’s impossible yet so endearing. Eddie can’t bring himself to hate it, any of it for a second. 

----

Going to the pier, Eddie will admit, was a very good choice. The smell of fried food and the noise of the amusement park rides was relaxing. It felt like being back at the state fairs in Texas. Buck and Chris dragged him along to every ride and Eddie went willingly. He doesn’t remember the last time he had so much fun. 

Eventually they tired down. Eddie was sitting on a bench next to Buck with a frankly gigantic brown bear on his lap. Chris is watching the surfers surf the waves down below with Buck holding onto his shirt. Eddie let himself relax after spending a whole day running after a child and a golden retriever. When Chris comforted Buck, Eddie snuck a photo of the moment. Buck was smiling sadly up at Chris while Chris held Buck’s chin in his hand. It was so sweet Eddie could’ve gotten a toothache.

He went about saving the photo when Chris started talking again. “Where did all the water go?”

---

So there was a Tsunami in California, and Eddie was in the middle of it. He really can’t have nice things. Immediately Buck grabbed Chris and together they started running off the pier. Man can’t outrun nature though and they were barely halfway across the pier when they got swept away.

---

Buck tightened his hold on Chris as he felt the water slap them around. As much as he wanted to keep Chris with him, he wasn’t stronger than the water. Eventually Buck felt Chris get torn away from him. Debris the tsunami picked up hurtled toward him. He could feel little nicks appear on his arms and legs. 

When he finally broke through the surface, he spotted Chris clinging to a pole twenty feet in front of him. Carefully he angled his body so the water would take him to Chris. When he got close enough he leaped and wrapped his arms around Chris. With the same intensity, Chris clung to Buck tightly. It was nice to have proof that Chris was safe. After hearing the little guy cry out for him and Eddie, he wasn’t letting Chris go anytime soon. 

For a while the duo was at the mercy of the water, but when Buck spotted a half submerged fire truck, he used his reserved energy to swim towards it. Once there, he lifted Chris onto it and then lifted himself onto it. The whole act hurt his leg, but Buck didn’t voice his pain. Quietly he breathed a sigh of relief. The open air stung his fresh cuts and his soaked clothes clung to him uncomfortably. Chris climbed into his lap and rested his head on Buck’s chest.

“Bucky, where’s my dad?”

Buck sighed, not wanted or knowing how to answer this question. “It appears that we got separated when the wave hit, but that can’t be permanent right buddy? When the water recedes we’ll go search for him okay?” Silently Chris nodded. Buck carded his hand through his curls and let his head gently hit against the truck. He breathed deeply once before getting into action.

“Hey superman, can I give you a quick check-up? I wanna make sure you aren’t too injured.” Chris nodded and Buck went about a modified version of the paramedic check up. (He’s been around Hen and Chimney to know it by heart. He also is a certified EMT.)

“You’re all healthy, kid, just a few cuts but that’s okay. Pretty amazing, I need to know your secrets.” Buck poked Chris’s cheek to make him giggle. He succeeded.

“I had you. You saved me.”

---

Somewhere along the way Eddie got separated. In the water he tried to reach for Chris or Buck, but his hand kept getting smacked by debriefs. He did it enough times that he was sure his wrist was sprained. 

When he finally broke free from the waves he couldn’t tell where he was. There were string lights hanging above him and a row of nondescript red buildings. Eddie let himself be dragged along with the waves while he thought of something to do. Buck and Chris weren’t beside him, making him officially alone. He hoped they were still together, the thought of all three of them trying to survive this on their own was enough to puke. 

He clutched onto his St. Christopher’s medal as he searched for someplace to grab onto.  There were inflatable toys, scraps of metal, and spare tires; but nothing safe to actually hold onto. Eddie tries to groan in frustration, but he ends up swallowing a mouthful of water instead. 

After another half-hour he finally sees an awning of a restaurant. He makes his way over and lies down on the awning. He breathes in deeply and lets out a slow breath. He’s safe. He’s safe and alive and all alone. Dread tries to settle in his stomach at the thought of his son. He knows he can’t think like this, but god it’s so easy too. He can only hope that Buck is with Chris, Buck will keep Chris safe. 

--- 

When the water finally recedes, Buck climbs down the truck. The nice lady, Mrs. Violet, hands Buck Chris before climbing down herself. “Stay safe you two. Good bye.” Chris waves goodbye and Buck gives her a megawatt smile. She’s nice company while they were stuck on the truck. Buck hopes they find their husband. He waits to make sure everyone else gets down safely too. 

The winds from earlier have died down. The warmth from the midday sun beaming down on him feels nice. His clothes have dried into uncomfortable messes, but it’s fine. He gave his pink button to use a tourniquet for a man with a bloody arm. 

Chris tightens his hold on Buck, shifts around to get comfortable, then goes lax in his arms. “You don’t want to be let down buddy?” Chris shakes his head. Buck hmmed in acquiescence . 

As an eight year old, Chris is hesitant to let people hold him. He says he’s too old for it now. The first time it happened Eddie called Buck to drink with him. Buck agreed and listened as Eddie complained at how big his kid was getting. The fact that Chris was willing to be held right now meant that he was more scared than he appeared. It made Buck worry and want Eddie. He shouldn’t be here, Eddie needs to be here to console his kid. 

Buck hiked up Chris further up his hip then started walking. He didn’t know which way he should go, just hoped wherever he went would lead him to Eddie. 

---

Eddie fell asleep. He fell asleep on top of the awning waiting for something to happen. It wasn’t a great sleep, he kept seeing Christopher get torn away from him. Eddie shocked himself awake and took stock of his surroundings. The water was gone, leaving in its wake the debris it swept away. Also dead bodies. If Eddie had anything to puke up he’d be hurling. 

Okay, okay, you can’t stay here. You gotta go find your kid. How… Eddie thought. Call someone? Call Buck! Or Bobby or Carla! Hope invigorated him to pull his phone out despite the fact that his wrist was definitely broken. Hope left him when he saw his completely waterlogged phone. Okay Plan A was bust on to Plan B… whatever that was. 

The awning was connected to a pole that he could climb down. Best way to find his kid and his best friend was to look for them. Slowly he made his way to an edge of an awning. Then he edged himself off the edge slowly and feet first. Eddie wrapped his feet around the pole and shimmied down. 

There were a few stranglers around him, similarly confused and lost. He tried asking them if they’d seen his lost kid or best friend. Unhelpfully they shook their heads no. Eddie sighed and continued walking. 

----

Buck’s arms were on fire. His leg was also on fire. He’s pretty sure he was also bleeding something… not good. Holding Chris and walking around for hours in the hot sun hadn’t been kind to him. Buck was still searching for Eddie or a hospital. Finding Eddie was better than finding a hospital, but at this point he’d take either.   

Technically he had found two hospitals already, but they were filled to the brink. The wait was astronomical and there was no place to sit. And there was no Eddie. He let a nurse check Chris out and give them some supplies, water and granola bars, before heading out. In hindsight he should’ve also asked for a phone to call someone but he forgot. 

Chris had long since passed out in his arms. The kid's soft breaths on his necks was very reassuring. It was part of the reason Buck didn’t want to let him down. Another reason was because he wanted to physically pass Chris off to Eddie. Who is fine. He’s healthy and fit and able to carry his kid when Buck finds him. ‘Cause he will find him, Buck can’t not find him.

Chris shifting in his arm brought Buck back to the present. “Bucky? Bucky, I'm tired.”

“I know superman, you’re okay. I heard there's a new hospital a few blocks from here. They’ll be able to help us.”

“Okay Bucky. Can I have ice cream when we get there?”

“We deserve it don’t we? Still need to ask your dad though buddy.”

“Why? He’s not the boss of you?”

“This is a trick.”

--- 

After searching for Buck and Chris for five hours (and getting nowhere his evil mind adds) he’s starting to lose hope he can find them on his own. No one has seen a tall man in a pink button up nor a little boy in a yellow striped shirt. Eddie’s poor heart doesn’t know whether or not to implode at that. By now the sun has started setting. The winds aren’t as refreshing as they once were. 

As he made his way down another debris filled street, two first responders found him. Eddie resists their attempts at checking him over for any injuries at first. He needs to find his partner and his kid, but he’s also tired. The first responders seem to pick up on this. They promise him that they’ll help him find his kid and partner if he just cooperates. This is how they cajoole him into going to a hospital. With promises of phone calls to his kid and a message passed around to the other first responders that Firefighter Eddie Diaz of the 118 is looking for his partner Evan Buckley and his son Chris Diaz. 

This satisfies Eddie a great deal and he then becomes a much better patient. (He’s still grumpy and aloof, but now he’s tolerant). He’s almost fine, acquired a cut on his right arm, broke his left wrist, is dehydrated and exhausted. One of the first responders tosses him a bottle of water on the way to their destination. Eddie finds out when they arrive that it’s a VA hospital set up specifically as a halfway point for the sick and wounded. 

The first responders usher him in through the door and into the hands of a nurse. They describe his injuries, and tell her about his missing family. He’d correct them but the statement doesn’t feel wrong anyways. The nurse takes him to a free cot before giving him a check up too. 

The first responders hit the nail on the head with his list of injuries. Since it’s not severe he doesn’t need to be transported to the hospital right away, although it is recommended. She leaves to go get him pain meds and once again, Eddie is alone. The people in the cots beside him don’t count. Hell one’s unconscious and the other one is having an intimate looking conversion with a loved one. There are tears, Eddie looks away.

To keep himself busy Eddie makes a to do list of what he needs to do next. Find Christopher. Give him a big hug. Give Buck a big hug. Sleep. Tell people he’s okay. Buy a new phone. Buy ice cream. The last one isn’t technically an emergency but forgive him he’s in pain. 

The nurse comes back with a wrap for his wrist and disinfectant and band aids. He finishes his water while she works. The nurse tells him he’s lucky his wound isn’t infected. Eddie nods, mind focused on something else.

“This is awkward, but my phone got damaged in the tsunami and I need to tell some people I’m okay. Is it alright if I borrow your phone and make some calls?” 

The nurse smiles and nodds. She gets out her iphone, unlocks it and gets out the phone app. Eddie takes it gingerly and thinks of who to call first. His parents? Ha. He could call his sisters, but if they don’t know then he didn’t want to worry them. He’d call Tia Pepa but she’s probably with Abuela already so calling Abuela’s home phone is the best bet. 

She’s calm if not incredibly saddened when she picks up the phone. Abuela  lets out a fast stream of spanish that’s said through tears once she realizes its him. He waits patiently for her to finish talking before reassuring her she’s fine. Eddie wants to tell her about Christopher, but he’s worried about Abuela having a heart attack so instead he promises to bring Chris over for lunch tomorrow. He then talks to Tia Pepa for a bit, but there’s not much new to say because Abuela had the phone call on speaker. She thanks god that he’s okay and that he better see her as soon as possible.

When they hang up he immediately calls Bobby. As he waits for him to pick up the phone he gives the nurse a sheepish smile and promises that this is the last call. 

“Hello Bobby Nash, who is this?”

“Bobby? It’s Eddie, listen, my phone got damaged in the tsunami. Buck, Chris and I were at the pier and I can’t find them anymore Bobby.”

“Hey, hey, hey, Eddie, you need to breathe. Okay breathe.” Eddie rubs his hand over his eyes as he takes a deep breath. 

“Okay Where are you right now.”

“The new VA hospital they set up.”

“Okay I know where that is. I’m going to send out a message to keep an eye out for Buck and Christopher. I’ll also ask Maddie to start calling the hospitals to see if they have Buck. We’re going to find them okay Eddie. Buck’s a fighter, we’re going to find him and Chris.”

“I know Cap it’s just-.”

“Hey Hey, this isn’t your fault, you can’t blame yourself for this. Stay there at the hospital so we know where to send Buck and Chris when we find them.”

“Yeah okay, okay, okay.” 

“Okay, are you okay?”

“Umm yeah I’m fine, shallow cut and sprained wrist. I’m fine Cap, it's Buck and Chris.”

“I know that, but I worry about you too. I gotta go, they need me, but take care of yourself okay? Stay safe?”

“Yes sir.” Bobby hung up and Eddie gave the nurse back her phone. 

The nurse left almost immediately to tend to other patients. Eddie took a deep breath before taking the next step. He knew someone had to have a list of patients at this hospital somewhere, he just had to figure out who. Eddie got up from his cot to start looking around. 

The first few people were a bust. Lady #1 was actually a nurse who just finished tending to a patient. Man #2 was actually an off duty first responder helping out. Lady and Man #3 and #4 were family of some of the victims of the tsumai. Eddie was starting to get frustrated. He needed to find his son and partner quickly. The longer they were out there the more Eddie’s insides turned into knots. 

He walked forward towards the entrance and saw a woman with a clipboard. “Hello ma’am is that a list of patients for the VA hospital?”

The woman turned toward him and smiled politely. “Yes it is. Who are you looking for?”

“My son Christopher Diaz. He’s 8 years old and about 4 feet 5 inches tall. He was wearing a yellow striped shirt and khakis. I’m also looking for my partner Evan Buckley. Late twenties 6’2’’ wearing a pink button up, white shirt and some jeans. He has an identifiable birth mark on his right eyebrow that could be mistaken for a burn scar.”

The lady pursed her lips as she scanned through the papers. Eddie tried not to loom or tap his foot as he waited. When her face fell and she frowned he tried not to cry or get violent. “No, I’m sorry sir, I don’t have anyone like that listed here. They could be at another hospital, or,” the lady pointed to a nearby tent, “they could be there.” 

Eddie followed his gaze to the place she was pointing at. “The, the-” black trash bags were piled in front of a stark white tent. That could mean it was only one type of place. 

“I’m so sorry sir, if your family is actually there.” Eddie barely nodded at her, listlessly making his way over to the tent. Part of him wanted to believe that Buck and Christopher was at another hospital, but if they were, wouldn’t they have been found by someone. Wouldn’t Eddie have tangible proof that they were alive? Tears started streaming down Eddie’s face. His knees started to wobble as he started scanning through the list of the deceased kept just outside the doors of the tent.

---

“Eddie! Has anyone seen an Eddie Diaz?!” A loud voice echoed in the background. Eddie frowned. It sounded a lot like Buck, but he- the lady said he was-

“My name is Evan Buckley, have you seen Edmundo Diaz?” The voice was slightly softer this time. Eddie turned around and almost fell to his knees. There, bathed in the LED lights was his best friend clutching his child in his arms. Eddie sobbed and started running to them.

“Buck! Buck!” 

“Eddie?” Buck wanted to run to Eddie, but walking was hard enough. He stayed where he was and let Eddie run into him. It didn’t take long. Buck quickly felt Eddie wrap his arms around both him and Christopher. 

It was then in his best friend's arms that Buck finally let the weight of the day catch up to him. His knees buckled and he went boneless in Eddie’s arms. Said man took it like a champ, first he made sure he had a secure hold on Chris, then he let himself sink to the ground with Buck. The younger man rested his back on Eddie’s chest and relaxed. The uncomfortable, burning pressure on his legs and arms was finally eased. Buck made a happy little sigh and burrowed further into Eddie, just as Chris was doing in his sleep. Maybe he should’ve been embarrassed by it but he just spent over five hours slowly losing hope that he would ever find Eddie alive. It would take the fear of God to separate them. 

Eddie seemed to have the same idea. The arm that wasn’t around Christopher tightened around Buck’s waist. The younger man could hear his partner murmur prayers in what he thought was spanish. Tears, of what Buck hoped was relief fell from Eddie’s face onto Buck’s shoulder. 

“Oh god, oh my god, I thought- I-” Eddie rambled, finding his voice again.

“Hey, hey hey, I’m fine. Me and Chris are all right.”

Eddie made a disbelieving noise. “Okay my leg hurts like a bitch and I probably have one too many cuts, but it’s nothing life threatening.” 

“You wouldn’t lie to me?”

“Not after the day I’ve had.”

“In a minute we should get you checked out.”

“Aww you can’t do it for me?” Buck shifted his head slightly to bat his eyes at Eddie.

“No, an unbiased professional should handle you,” Eddie whispered hoping the night sky would hide his blush. Buck nodded and listened to Eddie breathing. 

“We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay,” Buck whispered, like a mantra. He brought Eddie’s hand up to rest above his heart so Eddie could feel his heart beat. “We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay,” Even though Buck actually did need medical help, the trio stayed like that a little while longer, basking in the fact that all three of them were lucky enough to make it out alive and to return to each other. 

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #911 #911 fox #we're all fic writers here #ella's 911 fox fics

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Crutches- Prompt Fill

cw broken bones, food, internalized ableism, dizziness, headaches

Card by the wonderful @celosiaa! I am still accepting bingo prompts! Please send me more because the starred ones are back written already! Send me a prompt and a character and let me know if you want a drawing or writing!

Navigating the London underground on crutches had been trying to say the least.  But, Jon has gotten very good at navigating it with his cane, so out of sheer spite, he managed it without incident. 

He is still clumsy on them, and by the time he reaches the university, he is more than out of breath, having to stop and use his inhaler before he can reach his classroom.  (He will not be sharing that information with Martin, no way.  He is Fine, and that would only cause worry, and Martin has enough to worry about being an EMT).  

Of course the annoying thing is that he broke his Good leg.  

Of course he manages to break his one more functional leg.  What a very Jonathan Sims thing to do.  

He sighs.  He does not want to explain this to his students.  (And he certainly doesn’t want to explain this to Tim and Sasha, but of course they are coming over for dinner.  Actually… he’s grateful that they don’t already know.  Somehow he actually managed to calm Martin down and talk him out of calling them.  Jon leaned hard into the look I’m fine!  It’s a clean break!  It hardly hurts!  It’s fine!  I’ve had much worse, please don’t fuss!  I’m still conscious and everything! Thing.)

Frankly, it’s embarrassing.  

He misses the days where he would just… heal.  

He might still.  Well, he certainly would the old fashion way, but his recovery might be faster than normal.  Physical injuries are still a little aided by his connection to the Eye, however weakened that connection might be.  Doesn’t do Shit for illnesses, but as much as his EDS causes him to bruise, the bruises don’t stick around for too long.  

Just have to wait and see.  

His students stare.  

Jon shivers.  

He tries not to think about the Institute.  He tries not to think about the prickle on the back of his neck… the feeling of eyes on him when there was no one around.  Don’t be daft, Jonathan, you can see the students right there.  You can see their eyes.  You are just their odd professor who looks even more haggard and beat up than usual.  

He Feels much more haggard than usual.  And he’s shaking from the albuterol.  

“Professor, what happened?” One of his students ask as he maneuvers the podium so he can drop his bag.  

He curses at the lack of chair in the lecture hall.  He’s asked for one.  Repeatedly.  And he’s dragged his office chair in with him before, but… he doesn’t exactly have the hands to do it.  

He has to balance on one leg to dig is computer out so he can connect it to the projector.  

“I’m fine,” he answers automatically.  He was.  He is.  Just tripped like the idiot he is, and broke his good leg.  His bad leg had been throbbing since he got on the tube.  

He ignores it.  

His students eye him with clear suspicion.  Which… Jon would have worried about if… they weren’t perfectly justified.  

They had seen him faint many times, pop his hip back in place, watched him dislocate and relocate his arm, and there was the time he had the concussion, and the time he had a migraine and had fainted when someone tapped him on the shoulder, and the time when he had come to class feverish.  

These students have called Martin so many times by now.  

He deserves those cautions glances.  These kids (not really kids, but sue him, they look like kids in his eyes) are ready to call him on his bullshit.  

“I fell the other day.  I’ll be fine.  Just a broken tibia.  I’ll be fine in couple months.  Let’s get on with the lesson.”

One kid raises their hand, and Jon calls on them.  “Yes?”

“Professor Blackwood-Sims, isn’t that your good leg?”

Damn these overly observant students.  If only they payed that much attention to his lectures.  (No, that’s not fair, they are all good students.  The ones who struggle, have good reason to, and Jon has managed to get them to all come talk to him and tell him what they need to do better).  

Jon smiles tightly.  “Well… it was.  Okay, on with the lecture.”

His leg hurts.  The not broken one.  The broken one… well that hurts a little too, but not nearly as much as the one full of holes.  (They are both full of holes, but one was wormed much more thoroughly and hasn’t been the same since.)

Balancing on one leg proves difficult as he’s hit by dizziness.  He’s been standing too long.  Too long on his bad leg, and the tension and pain have given him a headache bad enough that he’s had one of his students turn off the lights.  He can’t face the light of the projector, so he gives the lecture angling away from it.  

One of his students offers to run the PowerPoint so he can sit in one of the desks as he teaches, but he turns her down.  There are only a few minutes left.  He can make it.  Then he can get home and take some painkillers and shower before Tim and Sasha come to dinner.  

He knows he can cancel, but he doesn’t want to.  He’s more dreading having explain what happened.  

He reaches the flat quickly enough.  He should have time to shower and cook.  He hopes.  

He swallows some painkillers dry (just a few so he can still take more before bed and not worry Martin by pushing the recommended doses too far) and works his way out of his work clothes while sitting on the bed.  It isn’t fun.  

He swallows his pride and uses the shower seat.  He hates it.  He hates that he needs it, yes, but honestly it’s more an issue with the textured plastic under his naked skin.  It feels… wrong.  Both because it reminds him of the circus, and because it’s just a bad texture.  It also feels gross… as in unclean.  He cleans it vigorously often, but it still doesn’t feel clean to him.  

Between the headache, and the dizziness from the hot water and several nights of poor sleep (from nightmares and trying to sleep with a cast on which gave him More nightmares), and the pain in both his legs, Jon fights back the darkness around the edges of his vision.  

He will Not pass out now.  

No.  

Will not happen.  No thank you.  No.  

He fights to keep upright and conscious.  And, surprisingly, wins that battle.  He sits on the bed again while dressing, and while braiding his hair. 

It takes him a long time.  There is a lot of hair to work with, and his scalp hurts with the intensity of his headache.  He also dallies, the more time this takes, the longer he can sit.  He should consider dragging a chair in front of the counter and a chair in front of the stove.  That could make cooking less painful.  

Well, in some ways.  

The unnatural angles are hell on his wrists when chopping.  

Lesser of two evils, however, he supposes.  

Shit.  He isn’t going to have time to finish dinner by the time Tim and Sasha arrive.  

And Martin isn’t going to be home for another hour.  He knows, he knows (not Knows, though), that they won’t mind.  Tim might even Help him cook, but… he doesn’t like being a bother.  He wants… well frankly he wants to erase the years of hurt with food (Christ, Martin has worn off on him.  Not that he minds.  He loves Martin).  

The sauce is almost done, but he hasn’t even started the pasta by the time Tim’s voice drifts through the door.  Sing-song and loud.  No knocking (thankfully).  

Jon hates that he needs the crutches to get to the door.  He hates that his vision is swimming by then too.  The painkillers took the edge off the pain, but can’t do much about the other stresses on Jon’s mortal frame.  

“Be there in a moment, or you can just let yourself in,” Jon calls back.  He has to pause and lean on the wall.  This is all very irritating.  

Apparently, Tim had already been halfway through unlocking the door, because he’s in before Jon can even finish the sentence.  

“Jesus, Jon, what did you do this time?”  Sasha exclaims, quickly, but gracefully pulling off her coat, hanging it on one of the hooks by the door.  It’s less a question than a statement.  

“Hello Sasha, Tim.  Dinner isn’t quite ready, but it’s not too far away.  In the meantime there’s wine.  Martin will be here soon, but his shift isn’t over yet.”  His eyes are closed.  Head tilted back against the wall.  The room finally stops spinning around him.  

“What did you even do?”  Tim this time.  

Jon… doesn’t meet his eyes.  He knows he is blushing, but there isn’t much to be done about that.  He mumbles.  He doesn’t know why.  He knows it won’t work.  Shoving out the words too fast to be understood.  

“What was that Jonny?”  That is a cackle.  Tim is cackling.  Tim, is very irritating… but he does love him, even when he’s teasing.  

“Tripped over my cane.”  Jon says as quickly and quietly as possible.  

“Only you, buddy.  Only You, could do something like that.  Now PLEASE SIT DOWN BEFORE YOU FALL OVER.  I can finish making dinner!”  Tim herds him to a chair.  In the kitchen, because Jon knows that Tim knows Jon won’t actually relax on the couch or the bed if he’s told to.  

“Okay, Jon, what’s left to do… No buts!  This smells amazing and I can’t fuck up pasta, probably.  At least I assume you planned pasta, because there is a box on the counter.”  Sasha says this brandishing aforementioned pasta.  

Sasha makes him tea.  Tim makes the pasta.  (Tim is absolutely the chief between the two of them.)  

“When did you last have painkillers?”  Tim asks.  

“Not too long ago.  Really I’m fine.”

Tim hmmms.  

Jon finds himself nodding off at the table by the time Martin comes home.  

He knows he’s being talked about.  

“Hey, sweetheart.  Hey?”

Jon sleepily raises his head from the table.  “Sorry, I went to work.”  

“Love, I thought you were going to Zoom in today.”  Martin doesn’t sound Angry.  But he doesn’t sound happy about this.  In Jon’s defense, he did say he would see how he felt, and he felt fine in the morning.  

Jon whines, he hates disappointing Martin.  

“We can talk about that tomorrow.”  Martin presses a kiss to his forehead.  

“Hey!  No sleeping until we eat!”  Tim.  Mock serious.  Although he will be very serious if Jon tries to skive off to sleep without some food.  

“Dinner, then I vote we cuddle Jon until he gets some rest!”  Sasha this time.  

Just like old times.  

He knows he will be teased for How he broke his leg.  He knows he and Martin will have a serious chat about him pushing himself.  

But for now there is food, and cheer, and his loved ones.  

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #timsasha #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #timothy stoker #cw internalized ableism #cw food #cw injury #my writing #my words #my art #my fic #fic

[whump-town]

It’s A Wonderful Life

Part One & Part Two

Have a great night everyone! 

There’s smoke hissing its ascension to the sky. Thick and black near the hood of the car but as it goes up he finds he can’t track it much further than a few feet. It wisps off, sweltering to nothing. The world has sunken into this pitter-patter of noises. The soft tink, tink, tink of cooling metal and engines filling the air.

Letting his eyes slide shut, Aaron falls.

Haley.

a cold hand brushes down his cheek

she looks down at him, her kind smile

she says something to him… he loses it

He blinks his eyes open, blood-caked to the corners. It’s sticky, thickly hardening all over his face. He can taste it on his tongue, down the back of his throat. Which aches from the smoke burning his airway. He coughs hard, jostling his sore body, and for a moment he finds himself hovering. Unable to breathe in as his body tenses. His vision dancing black dots as the pain threatens to pull him back under.

Gasping he wraps his right arm around his torso, crying out when his trembling fingers hit raw, split skin. He closes his eyes, trying to force himself to calm down. Breathe. He just needs to breathe and the rest will come along. Though it hurts to expand his chest and his throat tries to close around itself he forces steady breaths.

Holding it in each lungful… and releasing it as slowly as he can. Steady.

Something rustles behind him and he remembers Jack-- if his heart is racing, fear nearly overcoming every tactical and first-aide training rule he’s ever been taught then Jack has to be terrified. It hits him, that the severity of his own wounds can not be the priority. No matter what happens has to stay awake. Has to be present so that someone can explain to Jack what’s going on. So that he gets out of here.

“Jack?” The crack of his own voice startles him and he knows Jack doesn’t like it either. Jack whimpers softly behind Hotch, kicking his little foot out in protest. Great, he thinks, solid one, Aaron. Rasping and slurring his son’s name is not the best way to connect. He clears his throat, needing a moment to recover as he puts all of his energy into steadying himself. To sound confident, of a sound body. “Buddy? You okay?”

He’s not sure what exactly it is that he’s expecting. There’s no way Jack’s going to use sign language, he doesn’t even know the sign for okay and if he did Hotch wouldn’t be able to see it.

The realization of what he has to do… is too much.

He pulls in a shaking breath, frustrated with himself. He can feel himself slipping, losing his facilities. The strain produces sharp pain in his chest but he ignores it. Forcing his right hand off of his side he tries to wipe the blood off of it, rubbing his palm into his dress pants. Then, despite how deeply his chest aches, he forces his arm back. Slipping it back until he comes in contact with one of those light-up sketchers.

Jack giggles and taps his foot against Hotch’s fingers.

To think he’d thought those shoes were impractical…

He winces, holding his breath as a wave of intense pain spreads across his chest. A stabbing pain that leaves him lightheaded. “Jack…” he tries to lift his head. To force himself to stay awake but with a muffled grunt his eyes roll into the back of his head. Body limply leaning to the right.

aaron?

haley draws lazy patterns into his bare hip, smiling at him

he opens his mouth-- a question on the tip of his tongue

she smiles and leans close, silencing him with a gentle kiss

her fingers slip up the back of his head

“stay here,” she whispers, “just a moment longer”

self-preservation has never been his finest skill

The windshield is a spiderwebbed mess.

This isn’t the first time that he has been trapped between a steering wheel and a splintering windshield. His history with Bureau lent SUV’s and using them like federal grade battering rams is well known-- something either gets him a little heat or a strangely approving nod.

Through the windshield, he sees an accumulation of red. Not the splatter of his blood on the glass but the cars. A firetruck pulling up just feet away with a mighty puff of exertion and the great low hum of the engine.

His ears, never having healed properly after the bombing in New York, a ring with a sharp ache. Crying, strained borderline screaming shakes the car. His chest aches with the intensity of it. Stomach twisting sickly with each miserably, pitched, nearly choked inhale.

Jack.

Jack is kicking at his hand, blindly lost to isolation. Unable to communicate, probably overstimulated. Everything just keeps so loud and Hotch can’t stand that he can’t do anything to help. He doesn’t have anything, actually. Not those ear muffs Garcia spent so long researching, that muffle out all the sound. They’d had a bit of trouble trying to find the right size.

He-- He always about the things that Jack needs. Extra socks and pants and one of those knit hats that he likes to wear regardless of the season. Hotch thinks he likes to feel the pressure against his ears. Jack likes to crawl into his lap and place one of Hotch’s hands over each of his ears. He feels immense understanding for his son in these moments. Rocking back and forth and making the happiest little noises...

He needs to do something. Find it within himself to get out. He can calm Jack down, he just needs to get back there.

All he manages is a choked inhale, Jack’s poor little sobs breaking as makes himself breathless. Gagging, weakly trying to spit the copper taste in his mouth, Hotch chokes on the thick warm blood sliding down his throat.

“you’re scaring me, aaron.”

he looks at her…

trying to make every detail of her face a permanent fixture in his mind

the blonde hair that he was so glad that Jack got

better that he look like her

Haley is everything sweet; the only good thing he ever had

and Jack is so much like her gentle and loving

“aaron?”

he leans into her touch, “I’m okay”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Two hands brace both sides of his neck, at the base. Hands padded by thick gloves. “Brown-eyed boy!” the other man greets. “How’s your head feeling, big fella?”

Hotch opens his mouth, lips twisting into a pained grimace as he grunts. Pale, half-lidded eyes rolling back. Writhes, sucking in small rasped breathes.

“Easy,” the man soothes. Hotch is moving too much, jostling his spine dangerously. Given the state of his side-- flesh torn open by his door having caved in. The whole thing buckling in. Carl, the man currently using his own hands to hold Hotch’s neck, is providing as a brace, a point guard. He sits wedged right there with him, ready to help the guys on the other side.

“Just hold still,” Carl whispers. “You’re okay.”

Having George Foyet stand overtop him, the blade of his knife dragging down his flesh. Taunting, playing… he’d known then what was coming. Expected the blinding pain and known that no matter what he did, no matter what he felt he could not show fear. Could not submit to showing his pain.

Here, the vague chill of numbness spreading down his toes. Knowing that he can’t feel his feet, that he isn’t moving them either. Nothing-- not the prospect of dying here in this car-- is as harrowing as the realization that he can’t see or hear Jack.

He swallows thickly, draining his body of its resources as he struggles to bring himself to full consciousness. His lips part but he hasn’t got enough air.

“Alright, alright.” Carl tries to keep him calm but he sees the blood. Watching the blood bubble, foamy and pale as it slides down Aaron’s chin. “Don’t speak,” he rushes. Carl leans his head out the car’s window, shouting down to the other worker’s slowly working out how to get the door open. “He’s got busted lung guys, you’re gonna have to be quicker.”

“How bad?”

Carl looks back to Aaron, wincing in sympathy. “Just hurry, he’s not going to be able to take much more of this.”

“J,,,” Aaron can’t breathe. Each breath a little thinner, the taste of blood heavy on his tongue. “Jack,” he mouths, voice catching on just enough of the sounds that Carl understands.

The other man nods, smiling as he motions with his head to their left. “Jack? Is that your boy’s name?” Carl laughs, easy, light. “He’s sitting out there with my partner. Kid’s got so many rocks in his pockets, I don’t know if we’ll be able to pick the poor fella up.”

Hotch looks as far to the left as he can. Eyes burning with the strain. He can see out the door, vision blurring just enough to obscure the asphalt. To Jack. His happy little hands dancing up at his head as he rocks back on forth on his feet. Unaware of the wreckage just behind him.

Shutting his eyes he smiles too. For Jack and his little clicks, above all else, he just wants to hear those little clicks.

“Stay with me, pal. We promised Jack you’d be alright. Come on--”

But Aaron knows that’s not true. He’s worked these scenes a thousand times. Knows what to say to the children when they ask too many questions-- “Where’s mommy?” “Is my daddy gonna die?”-- and how far to move them from the scene. How to point out clouds shaped like castles so that they don’t hear the pained cries of their mothers. Drawing their attention to the grasshopper in the tall grass so that when the EMTs shout with fear, their fathers bleeding out on the asphalt with nothing but rough gravel beneath them… they never suspect a thing.

This day, this moment will be remembered by the person who took the time to talk to them. Who sat with them in the grass. Not the blood.

Jack will not ask where his father is.

And Aaron finds a great bit of relief knowing Jack won’t be lied to.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #jack hotchner #haley hotchner #hotch whump #hurt hotch

[professormembranexreader]

Membrane x Sleep Deprived! Male! Reader (fluff)

Outside POV:

Professor Membrane was the leading force of a scientific renaissance. He had found the barrier preventing humanity to travel beyond the horizon line. And he crushed it. Interstellar travel was now possible for humankind. Membrane was a person that would go down in the history books.

His dear friend, (Y/N), was a first responder—more specifically, an EMT. While it wasn't as important to the world as Membrane was, it was certainly more stressful. Everyday you could get called to respond to a sore throat or a burn victim. After witnessing his first death on job, it definitely took a toll on their psyche.

Watching a complete stranger is one thing. Having to try and stop the blood loss that was caused by some idiot getting impaled, however...

As a result, he often had sleepless nights. Whether it be from rushing to get someone to a hospital or the guilt that came with the failure was anybody's guess.

Membrane new this was bad for (Y/N), but what could he say to him? That enjoying your own life was more important than the loss of multiple? Of course not that sounds insensitive. But Membrane often spoke bluntly and could never find a better way to phrase it. So he kept quiet.

Until one day where (Y/N) called him near midnight. His speech was slightly slurred and Membrane could hear the tired drunkenness in their voice.

"Heyy Professor~" (Y/N) drawled. This was going to be a long night.

"Yes, (Y/N)?"

"I knoww we doon't talk much anymorre, but, uhhh, could you? pick me up toniight?" Membrane sighed before asking for the address.

He hastily got into his car and drove over to get (Y/N). He was so irresponsible. How did he even manage to make it through the day if he can barely stay awake half the time?

It was a desolate drive towards the bar (Y/N) was at. Even his favorite music didn't help distract him from his thoughts. He didn't take (Y/N) for a drinker, but he was wrong about lots of things when it came to people. He dealt with space. Not people.

"-And thassss my ride!" (Y/N) howled to a group of drunks that were with him. A strong red flushed his cheeks. "Bye guyssss! Au revoir!!" They cheered him on as he stumbled into Membrane's car.

"WHA- SHOTGUN!!" He jumped into the seat next to the driver as he uselessly fumbled with the seatbelt. With a tired sigh, Membrane buckled him in. "Thaaank youu, babyyyy!!"

As much as that was cute, he couldn't laugh. (Y/N) was in a drunken stupor. But then again, a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. Membrane blushed at the thought. 'No no, that's ridiculous' he thought.

"You're going home." He spike in a stern tone, like a mother scolding her child. (Y/N) deeply frowned, crossed his arms, and puffed out his cheeks, like a little kid. He was probably imagining a ninja running on top of the buildings they passed like one too. He always was childish. Membrane liked that in him. He could somehow have such a bubbly personality despite the threat of death looming over his hands.

'How would he act if he wasn't tired?' Membrane wondered. Every time they had managed to see each other, (Y/N) had his hair pulled back (guys with long-shoulder length hair, y'all are so valid. Y'all get a ponytail/bun if you want lol) with dark circles under his eyes. And every time, he was chugging coffee. Black, apparently. As an EMT, he probably never got any true sleep.

"Heyyy, Professsorrr, we're hooome," a sleepy voice called out. Membrane realized that he drove all the way home without noticing. Muttering useless formalities, he stepped out of the car and carried his friend into the house.

"You knoow... you're face is soo cuute~" Membrane blushed.

"Come on, (Y/N), let's get you to bed." (Y/N) groaned. He didn't want to go to bed yet. He didn't want Membrane to leave before he fulfilled his promise.

~FLAAAAASHBAAACK~

At the bar, (Y/N) was speaking with his usual drinking buddies—the hopeless drunks that would listen to him and entertain his fantasies. Anything was possible to them. Fuck, some of them drunk absinthe.

"Guyss, I got a prroblemm." This peaked their attention. One of them, Stanley, asked what was eating him.

"Soo, I got a crushh on my neighborrr. Annnd I don' know how to tell 'im. " (Y/N) paused, "Like,,, I don't even think he likes be baack, but I GOTTA KNOWW!"

Tom, the most drunk (unsurprisingly), slurred a response. "Jussss' tell him!! What could go wRong???" A goofy smile was plastered on his face.

Richard, the least drunk and the one that was making sure they didn't do anymore things they'd regret, started listing off a bunch of things that can (and will) go wrong.

(Y/N) didn't pay attention. Tom had a pretty good point.

"II GOT THISSS!! IMA TELL 'IM" (Y/N) got out his phone and called Membrane.  Everyone at the table went quiet.

After a few dial tones, he responded.

"Heyy Professor~" (Y/N) slurred. Richard's eyes widened while Stanley and Tom were making dick jokes. Of course.

"Yes, (Y/N)?"

"I knoww we doon't talk much anymorre, but, uhhh, could you? pick me up toniight?" He begrudgingly asked for the address and said he would be there soon.

Cheers erupted from the small group. It was a simple task, but it was done nonetheless.

~FLAAAAASHBAAACK~

"Professorrrr!" He called out. Membrane turned towards him as he turned to key to (Y/N)'s apartment.

"What?" He sounded tired. (Y/N)'s smile faltered at his crush's tone.

"Could you... could you stay over?" It was spoken with such clarity that Membrane actually gasped. (Y/N) peered up at him. 'Dammit He was using the puppy-dog-eyes.'

"I-I guess." (Y/N) smiled up at Membrane; it was a purity you wouldn't expect from him. The flustered scientist looked away, but a light pink peaked out from under his collar.

He guided the drunken man to his bed. (Y/N) made grabbing motions towards him. He wanted Membrane to stay with him.

Membrane ignored it and went into the kitchen. A distant whine was heard as he set out some Advil for the next day. He walked back into the room and the tired man beamed.

"Come!" Membrane chuckled, and sat next to (Y/N) on the bed.

"Hey, guess what."

"Hm?"

"I like you." Membrane's face flushed a bright crimson. (Y/N) likes him? No, no, no, he's drunk. He doesn't know what he's saying.

Then Membrane was kissed on the lips. It was short, but filled with passion. (Y/N)'s lips tasted like brandy.

"Good night professorrr~" he sleepily said. He felt arms wrap around him as he slowly lost consciousness.

—-——————————————————

(Y/N) woke up with a massive hangover. He groaned in pain as he clutched his head. He looked around and was surprised to find he was in his own bed. And even more surprised to see his crush clinging onto his torso. Membrane stirred in his sleep, cuddling closer. (Y/N) smiled.

Membrane suddenly whispered into his skin, "You said some interesting things last night."

He tried to recall what happened, but everything was hazy. "What happened?"

Membrane sat up and pulled (Y/N) into a tender kiss.

He pulled away from a shocked (Y/N). "I love you too."

#writing #membrane #professor membrane #professor membrane x reader

[mochiikook]

my everything| jjk

⇢ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⇢ genre: angst 

⇢ word count: 2.6K 

⇢ warnings: cursing, blood 

⇢ summary: Jungkook is an emt and during his shift he gets a call about a serious car wreck and when he arrives at the scene, he notices a familiar car. Your car.

⇢ A/N: i’d like to thank grey’s anatomy for preparing me for this ask, enjoy!

© mochiikook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

The loud buzzing and shifting next to you had stirred you out of your sleep. You groaned and reached over to pull your fiancé closer to you. “Don't go” you mumbled into his back, he turned around to face you and grabbed your chin to make you look at him. “I have to, my love.” You pout as you hold onto him a little tighter. He stifles a laugh before saying, “y/n, baby, I’m going to be late and if I’m late I’ll get fired and if I’m fired how am I going to pay for our wedding.” You pout before answering, “I’ll pay for it, all of it. Just stay here with me.” You feel Jungkook shake in laughter as he replies, “I would never let you do that baby.” He kisses your forehead as you loosen your grip on him and he slips out of your grip. “I’ll be back before you know it, love.” Your hand grips the sheets on his side of the bed as you fall back into your slumber.

The buzzing of an alarm woke you up, your alarm. With a groan, you reached up to feel for your phone on the nightstand. Tapping the phone blindly as you try to turn off the blaring noise before finally lifting your head up out of the pillow you stuffed it in and turned it off. With a sigh, you got up and headed to the bathroom to do your daily routine as you got ready for the interview you had that was willing to pay you big time. You didn't mention this to Jungkook, fearing that you might not get the job you didn't want to get his hopes up. Nothing breaks your heart more than to see a sad Jungkook. Although he would try to hide it, you see past his facade as if he was transparent.

You zipped up your pantsuit and put on your blazer as you checked yourself out in the mirror, the white blouse going well with your navy blazer and pants. Before leaving the house you gave yourself a pep talk. “You can do this y/n, you’re perfectly qualified for this job, nobody is more skilled in this position than you are. You have tons of experience, god, please bring it up. Don't stutter and don't get lost in your words, take your time and breathe before you answer their questions. Got it? Good. Now let’s go kick some ass and get rich.” You let out a breath before leaving the apartment, your heels clicking as you made your way to the elevator and down to the garage where your car awaits.

Unlocking your car, you step in and turn it on. Before you start driving out of the garage you connect your phone to the bluetooth and play your songs to hype you up for the stressing interview. You had worked so hard to get here and you knew you could do it, but sometimes the nerves just ate you up inside. Starting the car, you backed up out of your parking spot and made your way onto the streets.

Blasting your music, your favorite song to pick you up came on and you instantly sang with it as you maneuvered your way onto the highway.

(song: Rose Golden by Kid Cudi)

“Since I was young, been grooving to my own drum

ain't that many teachers, showed me my potential

felt like a failure mama said you know better

Future in my hands God, She had a plan

stronger than I know soon I’d understand

The power I possess, the story of the chosen”

“WOAH, jeez buddy watch where you're going!” you screamed to the car that just cut you off but was so close to crashing into you. As the exit got closer you switched your lanes carefully however the truck that was in the next lane did not see you as it changed lanes. It made contact with your car and before you had any time to react your car flipped over at the impact, skidding a couple hundred feet on the pavement. Your windows shattered and the glass shards cut into your skin.

It seemed as if time stopped, you couldn't hear anything except for a ringing which you assumed was because of the impact. Cars stopped next to you and a man crouched down next to your, now shattered, window. He was saying something but you couldn’t hear anything. You tried to speak but nothing came out except for a weak, “h-help.” Everything was pounding, lifting your hand you touched your head but soon pulled away as you felt a gooey substance. Blood.

JUNGKOOK’S POV

Sitting around at the fire department, Jungkook kept a conversation with his fellow paramedics.

“I should have called in sick today, it’s so slow.” I groaned to Dave, who was basically my mentor now. “Hey hey hey kid, never say that. Whenever someone says that-” He was soon cut off by a blaring alarm. “MEDICAL EMERGENCY TRUCKS NUMBER 49, 51, 70 RESPOND TO HIGHWAY 7 ACCIDENT MULTIPLE CAR PILE UP” Quickly getting up as the alarm sounded they hopped into their truck and left to the given location provided by dispatch. “Never say that again kid, something will always happen” Dave finishes. I nodded, “Noted.”

Pulling up to the scene, I see a familiar colored car in the middle of it all. “No.” I mutter under my breath. Dave turns to look at me, “C’mon kid we need to save lives.” I couldn't do anything. I was frozen, I prayed to God it's not who I think it is. My stomach churned as we stepped closer to the car. My heart dropped, Dave noticed me stop walking and turned to look at me. “What the hell is the matter with you.” I couldn’t even answer, all I saw was the hand. The hand that was lying on the pavement. Lifeless. Before I knew what I was doing I was running. It's like I didn't have control of my body. Something took over me and I found myself kneeled next to the driver's side where I saw the love of my life struggling to breathe “Y/N Y/N CAN YOU HEAR ME!” I feel Dave rush next to me, “Kid you need to step aside.” He put his hand on my shoulder to get me up but I shrugged it off, holding onto y/n’s hand tighter. With my other hand, I felt around for a pulse. Yes, yes yes god she was still alive, but barely. “I’m not leaving her, I can’t.” Dave sighed before waving down the firefighters to get their help in taking the car door out so we can get her out safely. “Kid, you need to let go of her so they can get through.” I shook my head and something fell on my hand. Water? I reached up to my eyes. I was crying. No, I was sobbing and I didn't even realize.

Before I could do anything, I was ripped away from her. “LET GO OF ME, SHE NEEDS ME, I NEED TO BE NEXT TO HER! LET GO!” I scream as they dragged me away from her. I watched from afar, not being able to do anything. I was useless. I’m doing nothing but sobbing over the love of my life. Once they put her on the gurney, I ripped myself out of the grip the 2 firefighters held me in. I ran to her side and took her hand. “Baby? Baby? Can you hear me? Y/n, honey look at me, stay awake baby. Stay awake, okay?”

Her eyes shifted to look into mine. I hated seeing her like this, I should have been in her place. I’d do anything to take away her pain. Her mouth moved but I couldn't hear what she was saying, “Baby what? What are you trying to say? Don't speak right now, love. You need to save your energy.” I said as I walked with the gurney. We loaded it onto the ambulance and I sat next to her as we left for the hospital. Not wanting to let go of her hand. I couldn’t and I won't. She’s in a critical condition and Dave did everything he could to keep her stable while we waited to reach the hospital. My leg bouncing up and down wanting this ride to go faster. It had to go faster. I can't lose her. Not now, not ever.

We arrived at the nearest hospital, and thank god. What felt like an hour was actually just 5 minutes. Still, not fast enough. We pulled the gurney out, or rather they did, my hand never left hers as I kept up with the doctors who were rushing her to the nearest operating room. “Sir we’re going to need you to let go now.” How could they possibly tell me to do that? “Sir! She’s in critical condition if you want her to heal, you're going to have to let go.” I nodded and kissed her forehead, “I love you baby, please don’t leave me, stay strong for me.” I let go of her hand and the doctors rushed her into the operating room. The nurses showed me to the waiting room. “How long do you think it’ll take?” I asked one of the nurses. “I don't know honey, but if I had to guess, it would take a couple hours.” I nodded before sitting down in one of the chairs.

Sitting in the waiting room just made me wonder if I’ll ever get to hold her again. No. Jungkook don't think about that. She’s going to be fine. She’s going to come out of the operating room alive and I’ll get to hold her in my arms again and we’ll forget this ever happened and we’ll get married and have 2 -no- 3 children and she’ll be a great mom and we’ll be happy. Right?

My leg kept bobbing up and down and I had stayed in this chair for 5 hours, how long would this take? My other coworkers had left a couple of hours ago, but Dave stayed. “Why don't you try and get some sleep, kid.” He said as he rubbed my back with support. “I can’t,” I responded as I stared at the wall like it was my enemy. “You can't or you won't?” He rebutted, I turned to look at him, silently answering his question. “Alright, I’ll go get you some coffee then.”

As soon as he came back with the coffee, a doctor emerged out of where she was. I stood up faster than light and went to him. “Well?” I questioned the man that had his hands in my fiancée. “It was touch and go for a while, but she’ll be okay.” I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. “Oh thank god, thank you thank you thank you.” I chanted as I broke down in tears while I hugged the doctor that just saved her. He patted my back gently and I let go. “She’s still under anesthesia but she should be awake soon.” He finished off his report. “Can I see her?” I asked, he nodded and told me to follow him. I looked to Dave who smiled and handed me the coffee cup, “You're going to need it, I know you're not going to sleep until you see her eyes open.” I took the cup and gave him a hug, “Thank you for staying with me, you should go home and rest.” He patted my back and nodded. “Call me if anything happens.” I nodded and let go and went to follow the doctor. I walked next to him and asked for his name since I hadn't asked. “My name is Namjoon Kim.” I nodded, “Thank you, again, for saving her Dr. Kim.” He smiled and opened the door that led to her room and there she was, lying in the bed that was surely uncomfortable. Tears sprung to my eyes as I pulled a chair out to sit next to her. Wires attached to her and her head bandaged. I took her hand and Dr. Kim closed the door and left me with her. “You scared me, baby. So bad. I thought I was going to lose you.” I brought her hand up to kiss the back of it before letting it rest on the bed as I put my other hand on top tracing soft shapes. I let my head rest on the mattress and let out a sigh and before I knew it my eyes closed and I dozed off.

Y/N’S POV

I felt the sun’s rays on my face and something warm on my hand. Ugh, owww why does everything hurt? What happened? All I remember was driving to my interview and then- oh. The accident. Fuck. I pried my eyes open slowly and was blinded by the lights. Jeez, do they have to be that bright? Once I fully opened my eyes, I looked to my hand where I felt the warmth. Jungkook. That has to be an uncomfortable position, he's going to strain his neck. How long has he been like that? I squeezed his hand in hopes of waking him up but to no avail. I should have known he wouldn't wake up to that, he's such a heavy sleeper. I went to move my arms and fuck it hurt like a bitch but I can't let it stay still, I need to have mobility, I need to regain my strength. I lifted my free arm and ran it through his hair, gently tugging on it to wake him up. “Jungkook. Jungkook wake up, baby wake up.” My throat felt hoarse as I spoke and I felt him stirring underneath my fingers and he lifted his head. It took him a few seconds to realize before scrambling to lock me in a tight hug “Y/N YOU'RE AWAKE!” I hissed in pain and he instantly let go. “Shit, sorry sorry, are you okay? Should I call Dr. Kim? I should call Dr. Kim to let him know you're awake.” He rambled as he pressed a button that alerted the nurses, I think? “Just shut up and kiss me.” His eyes widened in shock at my tone but complied with my request and his lips met mine. The kiss was passionate, sure we had others like this, but this felt different. I could feel all of his emotions, the fear, the sadness, and the blame that he was putting onto himself.

We parted and a doctor walked in, which I assumed to be the one he was talking about, Dr. Kim. “Hello Y/N, I’m Dr. Kim glad you’re back.” He said with a smile as he sat down on the stool next to the monitors. “I need to draw blood for some tests and you need to stay here for a couple of days while we monitor your condition and then you should be good to go.” He said as he prepped my arm for the needle. I nodded and let him do his thing and turned my attention back to Jungkook who was already looking at me. I smiled and squeezed his hand to reassure him that I’m okay. “Thank you for staying with me.” I told him. “What, are you kidding? I’d never leave you.” He responded and my heart beat a little faster at his words. My eyes couldn't leave his, I didn't even realize Dr. Kim had left. I just stayed focused on him. My everything.

#kim namjoon imagine #kim seokjin imagine #min yoongi imagine #jung hoseok imagine #park jimin imagine #kim taehyung imagine #jeon jungkook imagine #bts imagines #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts masterlist #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #kpop imagine #kpop masterlist

[mudhorn-djarin19]

Could you write a Marcus Moreno whump with a hurt/comfort ending one-shot fic(With no readers) with the POVs of Marcus Moreno and his niña Missy Moreno respectively please? Not too gory and not too graphic please. Plot: A captured/kidnapped Marcus is in a bad shape by being badly beaten and tortured(Though thankfully he's not in a critical condition.). Despite being badly injured, he fights back the best he can against his kidnapper and torturer. Fortunately, Missy and her team along with Marcus' own save Marcus. Later in the hospital at the Heroics Headquarters, Marcus is recovering and is safe with his family again with him, Missy and his mom Anita comforting one another.

Sorry this took a bit to put together! Had to get them writing brain juices flowing! ^^' I hope this is what you are looking for and enjoy! Thanks for the request! <3 Warnings: Mentions of injuries (nothing major) and fighting (not too descriptive) Masterlist | Join my taglist via here!

Marcus groaned in pain as he sat against the cold concrete wall. How long had he been here? Every muscle in his body ached from fighting back and being strained in the restraints currently holding him. His arms were pulled behind his back and bound by rope. Of course they knew his powers and wouldn’t keep him contained with anything of metal that he could manipulate. His fingers flexed as best as they could, trying to reach and find the end of the rope to undo it but, was no such luck.

“Stop trying to escape.” A tall man says, pushing Marcus back against the wall with his foot. “You’re not leaving here. Not until we get the rest of your team captured just like you. It’s about time we finally took you Heroics out.”

Marcus growled. “You may have gotten me but you’re not getting the rest of them. They’ll come, free me and take you out.”

“Pft sure thing.” The man said before leaving.

Marcus sighed, still struggling in his restraints. His wrists hurt from the rope, feeling them becoming raw around the area that they were biting into. His face was sore from being punched a few times and he was sure he had several bruises forming. He rolled himself to lean against the wall, careful to not strain himself too much. Hopefully soon he’d find a way out of here or someone would come and get him out. Thoughts of Missy filled his head as he leaned against the cold wall. He knew he broke the promise to her about not going out into the action anymore but duty calls and it unfortunately had to be broken. She was probably worried sick by now and highly upset, wondering what had happened to him. Tears filled his eyes as he thought of his daughter, he knew she was safe but he still worried and hoped she could forgive him for having to break his promise, especially after this tragedy.

_____

Missy paced her living room floor. It has been hours since she got home from school and dad was nowhere in sight. She had no missed texts or calls from him, so she called into his office to see if he was there. The nice receptionist told her he was not but had gone out on a mission hours ago that he’s yet to come back from. Panic instantly overtook Missy. She thanked the lady and quickly hung up the phone to dial her abuela, Anita.

“Abuela…” Missy started, tears already forming in her eyes. “Dad isn’t home yet but I just called his office and a lady told me he went out on a mission that he hasn’t come back from yet. I didn’t think he was doing mission work anymore. He promised me he wouldn’t.” Missy sobbed.

“Missy… Missy. Breathe. We will get it figured out my dear. Let me make a call into his office and see what I can find out.” Anita assures her. “In the meantime, stay put. I will be over shortly.”

Missy nodded and sniffled. “Thank you abuela.”

Within the hour Anita was over. She had called into Marcus’ office just like Missy did and found out he had gone out on a mission alone to take down a villain squad plotting to take out the Heroics. When she had found out it’s been hours and he has yet to come back she rang them a new one.

“We have to go save dad! He’s obviously gotten held captive… or worse.” Missy cried.

“Dearie, I am sure the other Heroics are working on something to save him.” Anita assured her.

“But it’s already been hours and nothing so far. Abuela can you take me to HQ so I can talk to them and my team? We have to do something to have him. I want dad back.” She sniffles.

“Shh shh. Yes, grab your things and let’s go.”

The drive to HQ was quick as soon as Anita parked Missy was hopping out of the car and running into the building. She ran through the halls and right into Ms. Granada’s office. “Ms. Granada… My dad went on a mission and has been missing for hours. Why is no one out looking for him?” She pouts angrily.

“Missy! Hello dear. Well, we were giving it sometime. Your father is the leader of the Heroics so we figured he’d be okay.” She replied. “Well something doesn’t seem right. He’s been gone too long. If you don’t send out the other heroics to look for him, me and my team will go ourselves.” “Missy… Missy… relax. I will request for some of the Heroics to go look for him. If you wish for yourself and some of your team to go as well you can. But please stick with the adults as you guys are still in training.”

Missy nods and heads down to the classrooms to find her teammates. “My father has been missing for hours. I need a few of you to join me and some of the Heroics to go find and save him.” She states. “Who’s with me?”

Slo-Mo, Rewind, Guppy and Wild Card all volunteered to go. Missy lead them into the locker rooms to change before going off to meet the fellow Heroics they’d be joining on the rescue. After changing into their training uniforms they met up with Miracle Guy, Ms. Vox and Crushing Low.

“All set to go kids?” Miracle Guy asked. Missy and the rest of the kids nodded before splitting up to follow each hero. Missy going with Miracle Guy, Slo-Mo and Rewind with Crushing Low and Guppy with Ms. Vox. They all split off and went their separate ways to search around town for Marcus. It felt like hours had passed until Missy pointed out one of her dad’s katanas dropped in an alleyway. Miracle Guy radio-ed into the other teams that they think they found the location and for them to meet them there. It wasn’t long before they arrived. Finding the doorway it seemed they had Marcus trapped in, Crushing Low broke it down. Slo-Mo quickly stepped in as soon as he heard footsteps and used his powers to slow them down. As he did Guppy took them out and had Miracle Guys help to tie them up. Missy followed Mz. Vox and Rewind farther into the basement. Hearing some talking and grunts of pain. The grunts had to be dad, Missy thought! She stepped to the side wall and followed the noises to the back but had her arm grabbed by one of the culprits. She yelped and tried to tug away but was no luck. Thankfully Rewind stepped in and used his powers to back track it all for Miracle Guy to step in and knock the guy out. Missy sighed in relief and followed his footsteps further into the basement into a backroom. Stepping into the room she saw Marcus tied up and leaning against a wall. “Dad!” She yelled and ran to his side. “Missy?” Marcus groaned and looked at her. “What’re you doing here? You need to leave so you don’t get hurt too.” “I am not alone. Some of the other Heroics are here with me too as well as my team.” She points to Miracle Guy standing in the doorway who gives a quick head nod. “I knew something was wrong when you weren’t home or answering your phone. We came to save you.” Miracle Guy stepped over after Ms. Vox came to cover the doorway from any other potential culprits. He carefully untied Marcus and helped him to his feet. “Don’t think this means we're buddies.” He says letting him support his weight on him. “Yeah yeah I know…” Marcus chuckles then groans. Miracle Guy leads him out of the basement carefully after confirming there were no more culprits. Thankfully the other Heroics had taken care of them and had them tied up. An ambulance pulls up at the entrance of the alleyway and two EMT’s make their way to Marcus, carefully helping him up and into the vehicle. One of them talks to Miracle Guy who passes the word onto Missy. Anita’s vehicle follows behind them and she rushes out over to Missy. “Is he okay? What happened?” She frowns.

“I’m not totally sure but they are taking dad to the hospital to check him over.” Missy says.

“Let’s follow them there. Thank you everyone for your help in rescuing my son.” Anita says to the Heroics and Missy’s teammates. Hopping into Anita’s car Missy and her follow the ambulance to the hospital. They have to wait a bit for Marcus to get examined but once he is all done and set up in a room they rush up to find him. Missy runs into the room right up to Marcus’ bed. “Dad! Are you okay?” She cries. “Yes mija, I am okay. Just some scratches and bruises. Thankfully nothing to serious. I’ll be released tonight. They just want to monitor me a bit to make absolute sure.” He says stroking her head with his hand. Missy nods and wipes her tears away. “I was so worried about you. I didn’t know what happened.” “I know. I am sorry. I know I promised not to do mission work anymore but unfortunately I had to break that promise. Sometimes Granada needs me and my skills over the others. I hope you can forgive me.” “It’s okay dad. I understand that you’ll have to do some. I am just glad you are safe. That’s all that matters to me.” She sniffles.

Marcus smiles and continues to smooth her hair back, comforting her. Anita sits down in the corner and smiles at them both.

“I am glad you are okay mijo. You know I always worry about you too even though I trained you to be the very best.” She chuckles. “I know mom.” He smiles. The nurse walks in and greets them all, stating that Marcus is stable, nothing serious. Just might be sore for a few days and give him the okay to go home. Marcus thanks her and slowly crawls out of the hospital bed. Missy helps steady him and leads him out the hospital to the car. “Let’s take the weekend off and rest, dad. I think you need it. We can have a move marathon! Let’s watch all the Star Wars!” “Sounds good to me. I would love that.” He chuckles. “Thank you for coming to rescue me mija, I love you so much.” “I love you too dad. You know I’ll always come to save you. I can’t imagine life without you in it” She smiles.

#we can be heroes #marcus moreno #missy moreno #anita moreno #fanfic