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pedroshotwifey · 4 months

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Christmas Countdown Day 23 - Food Coma

Sleepy

Pairing: Jack Daniels x afab!reader

Word count: 673

Tags/Warnings: smut, fluff, no use of y/n or description of reader other than having female anatomy, husband!jack, tooth-rotting fluff, unprotected PIV sex, sleepy sex, shared orgasms, bad puns, stuff im forgetting

Summary: You and Jack have sleepy sex after dinner

A/N: This is actually so cute y'all, like I kind of love it. I'm thinking that tmw's fic will be a threesome, so that will likely be more steamy lol. I love this tender dynamic tho

***

You giggle deliriously as Jack deposits you on your shared bed.

“Jack, ‘m tired,” you complain non threateningly through your laughter.

“Hmm, me too, sugar,” Jack chuckles. “Cooked a mighty fine dinner. Stuffed me to the damn brim.” He follows you down onto the bed after striping out of his jeans and shirt.

He kisses you lightly, tickling your face and throat. Despite how groggy you feel after such a large meal, you can’t seem to pass up the chance to have your husband inside you again.

You lay silently in contentment, a goofy smile adorning your features as you lift your hips slightly to help him wiggle your pants down your legs.

He’s only satisfied once you’re as bare as he is, your cunt already glistening with need.

“Just need my desert, babydoll,” Jack informs you as he dips down to cover your lips with his. You huff a laugh and roll your eyes as you make out lazily with him, your eyelids only half open.

His fingers quickly find your soaked folds, and you moan into his mouth as he dips two fingers into your heat, and then brings them up to circle your clit. Your hips buck up, chasing the friction of his calloused fingers as your orgasm approaches before you know it.

It sneaks up on you, and Jack can tell the second you begin to focus on getting to that point. He increases his speed and applies more pressure simultaneously. Your whines are caught in his mouth as he continues to devour you, his tongue slipping between your lips to explore.

You slide one of your hands to his ass, and the other to grasp his hair, squeezing both places as you come. Jack groans into you as you knead the globe of his ass.

“Tha’s it, darlin,” he says, pulling away from your mouth. A string of spit connects the two of you, but neither of you have the energy to care. “Doin’ so good. Gonna let me fill this little cunt up?”

You slowly nod at him, your eyes closed completely at this point. Jack smiles and places a gentle kiss on your forehead before notching himself at your entrance.

He glides in easily thanks to your previous orgasm, and you both moan as he bottoms out almost immediately.

“‘S good, Jack,” you slur, your hands finding each other on his back to hold together.

“S’ do you, sugar,” Jack makes a point to tell you as he begins to pump in and out of you. He groans and lowers himself down so that he can rest his head next to yours, closing his eyes and focusing purely on the tight heat of your cunt around his cock.

Both of your movements are sloppy and slow, but neither of you mind. You’re too weighed down by the feast you had both endured for dinner, sex and sleep being the only things on your schedule for the foreseeable future.

You listen to the sound of Jack’s stuttered breathing and the squelch your cunt makes with every lazy thrust.

The two of you reach the edge at the same time, quicker than usual. Jack brings a hand to your clit again, making gentle passes.

You both climax at the same time, moans spilling from your mouths and into each other’s ears. Everything feels euphoric in the way that it’s like a dream, your body floating and the scenery around you fading away.

Jack’s spend christens your walls as he finishes before he pushes it out with his last few thrusts.

Neither of you say a word when you’re done, both of you half asleep anyway. Jack just pulls out of you, walks the few steps to the bathroom, and comes back with a cloth to clean you up with.

Once he’s done, he simply tosses the cloth onto the floor and climbs back into the bed behind you, placing another kiss on your head before tucking you to his warm body.

You’re both asleep before another minute passes.

***

Thank you for reading! Please consider interacting if you enjoyed it <3

WCC: @amyispxnk @melaninmommy @brittmb115 @mandoalorian @yorksgirl

Link to prompt list

#pedro pascal #fan fiction #ao3 #smut #pedro pascal smut #fluff #jack daniels smut #jack daniels #jack whiskey daniels #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey x you #jack daniels fanfiction #jack daniels fluff #food coma #wifeys christmas countdown #christmas

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mellaithwen · 6 months

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WIP Wednesday (how is it only Wednesday)

Thank you for the tag @rewritetheending (and for all the WIP Game tags that I’m too scared to look at haha) i had a busy exhausting daaaay, so here’s some soft Bobby and Buck :)

Buck’s hands weakly reach towards his face, fingers fumbling at the nasal cannula as he slowly shifts into wakefulness.

“Easy kid, leave it alone,” Bobby soothes as he stands to gently tug Buck’s arms back down—careful to avoid the gauze covering the electrical burns on his hands, and the tubes administering fluids and pain relief into his IV.

Buck makes a small sound, a half-awake kind of grumble of indignation at being manhandled but he doesn’t fight Bobby’s careful hold—too weak to make a real difference anyway—focusing instead on tilting his head to the side as though drawn to the comforting timber of his captain's voice.

Tagging: @homerforsure @princessfbi @renecdote @hopeintheashes @fleurdebeton @bigfootsmom @lovebuck @henswilsons @capseycartwright @like-the-rest-of-la @shortsighted-owl @fcntasmas and @littlespoonevan <33

#what if I just write post-coma fics forever? what then?#911fic #911 #911 fic #911 fanfic #captain dad #he is your son bobby #911 fanfiction #Mellaithwen fanfic #the bobby coda fic #I’m iN MY BOBBY AND BUCK FEELS OKAY!?

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akystaracer22 · 4 months

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The urge to make a fucked up little modern AU of Linked Universe where Time gets hit by a truck or something (Truck-kun?) and in his coma lives through his entire life OoT, MM, HW, marriage, the events of LU, death, TP and then finally after years of everything… he wakes up.

And then the rest of the fic is him learning how the hell you go on having lived an entire lifetime. Maybe meeting Malon against and falling hard and having that crisis, meeting the other lads and being hellbent on befriending and dragging each one into his found family because he already let them slip away from him once like hell is he letting that happen again.

Through it to he has to learn how to live in the 20th century again.

Idk I just find the idea really interesting and Time seems like the right guy to write it for.

#linked universe time #linked universe fanfiction #linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe malon #ocarina of time #legend of zelda ocarina #majoras mask #twilight princess #hyrule warriors #coma #truck kun #isekai?#idea based on that one guys story

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swanqueenelmaxshadowhunters · 4 months

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She walked to the head of Max's bed, holding her hand and leaned in to give a kiss on her cheek. "I'll be back tomorrow, Max. I promise."

Eleven's heart seemed to stop for a moment, and she looked down at her hand in Max's. She furrowed her brow, trying to understand if the slight squeeze in her hand had really happened or if she was imagining things.

(...)

"I'm sure you would have liked it there. Mike said the house was practically destroyed by government agents after I got arrested. Oh, yeah, there's that. I got arrested, can you believe it?" Eleven laughed, imagining Max's reaction to this information. "They arrested me because I hit Angela." El shook her head. "But that's a story for another day."

Eleven's eyes widened, and she looked at her hand in Max's. She thought she felt a slight squeeze in her fingers, but it couldn't be, could it? She narrowed her eyes, focusing all her attention on their hands for minutes, but nothing happened.

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woodchoc-magnum · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Henrietta "Hen" Wilson, Howie "Chimney" Han, Bobby Nash, Maddie Buckley, Athena Grant, Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Carla Price, Phillip Buckley, Margaret Buckley, Daniel Buckley, Connor (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Coma, Getting Together, Falling In Love, Whump, Evan "Buck" Buckley Whump, Hospitals, Comatose Evan "Buck" Buckley, Firehouse 118 Crew as Family (9-1-1 TV), Worried Firehouse 118 Crew (9-1-1 TV), Firehouse 118 Family Feels (9-1-1 TV), Friends With Benefits, Secret Relationship, Worried Eddie Diaz, Eddie Diaz Takes Care of Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz Loves Evan "Buck" Buckley, Hurt Evan "Buck" Buckley, Soft Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz, Sperm Donor Evan "Buck" Buckley, sperm donor arc, 9-1-1 Season 6, Buckley-Diaz Family (9-1-1 TV), Christopher Diaz Has Two Dads, Christopher Diaz is a National Treasure, POV Alternating, Fluff and Smut, Bottom Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Angst with a Happy Ending Summary:

In which Buck and Eddie are trying out a friends-with-benefits thing (that's rapidly turning into more) when the world comes crashing down on them. As Buck hovers somewhere between life and death, Eddie has to deal with their friends, family and the Buckley parents.

This fic is complete - I’ll be posting a chapter a day!

#buddie #911 fanfic #buddie fic #911 #9-1-1 #911fic #9-1-1 fanfiction #buck x eddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #author: woodchoc_magnum #woodchoc_magnum #woodchoc-magnum #it's coma buck y'all

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hummingbird-of-light · 27 days

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Round 2: Fourteenth story for @badthingshappenbingo ~

Title: A Father's Nightmare

Fandom: Star Trek (AOS)

Character(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott, Chris Scott, Leah McCoy

Relationship(s): Robert "Robbie" Scott & Chris Scott, Robert "Robbie" Scott/Leah McCoy

Rating: T

Words: 717

Prompt: Bedside Vigil

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Injury, Coma

(You can also find this story on AO3)

~ A Father's Nightmare ~

"Oh, Chris..."

Fresh tears streamed down Robert "Robbie" Scott's face as he gently squeezed his son's hand.

He had spent several hours just sitting next to the young man's hospital bed, hoping for him to finally open his eyes. But there was still no sign of it going to happen.

Chris had fallen into a coma. There had been an accident at work, leaving him with a terrible head injury. When the ambulance had arrived at the hospital, chances had been very high that he wouldn't make it, but the doctors and nurses had done everything in their power and had managed to stabilize him.

Robbie closed his eyes, wiping away the tears with his wrist, and let out a deep sigh. It was every parent's worst nightmare to lose their child and he had been so close to it becoming his reality. A reality he wouldn't be able to live in. And the danger wasn't over yet.

Silently, Robbie listened to the steady beeping of the monitors, showing him that Chris was still alive and breathing. If the pace would change only the slightest bit, he was ready to call for a doctor. He wouldn't leave his wee lad alone.

"Robbie?"

A soft voice coming from the door caught the Scotsman's attention and he opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder to see who had stepped into the room.

A weak smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Of course it could only be one person.

"Leah..."

The nurse was standing in the doorway, two cups in her hands. She gave her boyfriend a sympathetic look as she made her way over to the free chair next to him and sat down.

"Here. I thought that you could use a cup of tea."

She carefully handed Robbie one of the cups and he took it from her with a grateful nod.

"Aye. Thanks, mo chridhe."

His eyes wandered back to his unconcious son and the smile he had given Leah quickly faded.

"I still cannae believe it," he whispered, new tears filling his eyes. He looked towards the ceiling, trying to blink them away.

"I know, Robbie. I can't even imagine how hard this is for you, but... I'm here for you."

Leah grabbed his arm and gave it a squeeze, hoping to somehow be able to spend her love some comfort.

And she would never understand just how much it really meant to Robbie to have her at his side. She was the light he had searched for for so long. She was everything he could have hoped to find after his first wife had left him and Chris behind. Even though it had taken years for them to meet, he was so grateful to have her at his side these days.

And therefore he could be honest with her.

"I'm," his voice broke and he had to clear his throat to start again. "I'm so scared, Leah."

His voice was trembling and he kept his eyes fixed on Chris as he spoke out the truth.

"I'm so scared that I'll lose him. I'm scared that he'll never open his eyes again. The thought of never hearing his voice again, never getting a chance to talk him again, scares me to death."

His rambling went on and on and only when Leah's arms wrapped around him did the Scotsman finally stop talking.

"Shh, I know. I know that this is scary for you. I can see how much it hurts you. But you can't give up hope, sweetie. Chris needs you. He needs you to talk to him and tell him that everything's going to be just fine. He needs you to tell him that he has to be a fighter."

Robbie's eyes stared at his son's face as he listened to all the things Leah told him. She was right. His boy needed him. He needed a strong father who was only hoping for the best possible outcome of the situation.

"He... he will make it. Ye'll make it, Chris."

Chris Scott would open his eyes. Maybe it would take hours or days, but Robbie was sure that his son would wake up. And he'd be there when it happened. Just like Leah would. Her light would shine for both of them.

#bad things happen bingo #prompt: bedside vigil #fandom: star trek aos #fanfiction #robbie scott #chris scott #leah mccoy #robbeah #whump #angst #mentions of injury #coma

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sorchathered · 2 months

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Spends two weeks stressing over a chapter.

Finishes writing it, hits submit with no proofreading.

Fuck it, we ball.

#top gun maverick #why am i like this #i need a small coma #and a grippy sock vacation #writer problems #top gun maverick fanfiction

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klaineccfanficlibrary · 8 months

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Hey guys! I just dropped here to request for a fic.

It involves Blaine going into coma and Kurt keeps visiting the hospital. Blaine's soul sees everything Kurt does. I know it's kinda vague. I had the pdf once and now it's lost.

Hello! two stories spring to mind, come back if it's not them. ~Jen

Head versus heart by dizzywhiz

Blaine gets hit by a taxi and ends up in the hospital - so naturally, as his best friend and long-standing roommate, Kurt visits him at every possible opportunity until he gets to come home.

It only takes a couple of visits before Kurt notices something impossibly endearing: the beeping of Blaine's heart rate monitor speeds up whenever his friends come to visit. At least, Kurt assumes it happens with all of Blaine's friends, until Sam has no idea what he's talking about.

~~~~~~

Wake me up now by @diredyre

Kurt and Blaine were just getting started on the rest of their lives, until Blaine gets into an accident. Now he's a ghost forced to watch his life happen without him as he struggles to get back to his body.

#klaine fanfiction #fic finder #coma #hospital

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sheena-is-a-punk-rocker · 4 months

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Ringing in the new year with three soldiers, an insurance agent, and a criminal who sucks at geography and spelling

Got a prompt for a New Year's fic in which Harley meets Rick's army buddies and they try to wrap their heads around the fact that their friend is dating THE Harley Quinn. Happy New Year, motherfuckers!

Rick’s sitting on the couch in a rented cabin in the woods—sipping a beer and catching up on life with his two closest army buddies that he hasn’t seen since his ill-fated reunion trip that was interrupted six months ago. Harley’s with him this time, so no chance of anything bad happening.

“Dude, you’re dating Harley Quinn?” His buddy, Kane, asks incredulously.

Apparently he hadn’t specified last time they hung out. Whoops.

“Isn’t she wanted in like seven countries?” His other friend, Ramirez, asks.

“Not anymore,” he replies. Actually, that might not be true, now that he thinks about it. They have immunity from Waller and her bullshit, but not necessarily any foreign governments. Best not to take any international trips, just to be on the safe side.

“Wasn’t she with the Joker for like, a really long time? How has he not killed you yet?”

“Oh, I don’t think Mistah J is gonna be a problem for us anymore,” Harley slurs as she makes her way into the living room—plastic glass of champagne in her hand. She plops down on his lap and pats his cheek. “Ain’t that right, baby?”

He chuckles and pulls her closer. “How many glasses of champagne have you had, Harls?”

“Um… I lost count?”

“How many bottles have you had?”

“Oh! Two!”

He grabs the glass out of her hand and downs the rest of it. “Okay, that’s enough of that for you.”

“They weren’t big bottles!” Harley whines.

“Wait wait wait,” Kane interjects. “You can’t just drop a bomb like that and not elaborate. Did she kill him, Flag?”

“Wasn’t me!”

“You killed him?”

Rick contemplates his answer very carefully. These are his ride or die best friends who have been through the worst with him so he’s pretty sure they won’t turn him into the cops.

“Seriously maimed him,” is what he ends up landing on.

“With his bare hands!” Harley says proudly, with a wet kiss to his cheek.

There’s awed silence for several moments as what he just revealed sinks in. He doesn’t see what’s so surprising about it. It’s not like he hasn’t killed before. He’s killed so many people, in fact, that he’s lost count. Besides, Joker isn’t really that scary.

Ramirez looks like he’s getting ready to say something about the whole thing when Kane’s wife, Rachel, makes an appearance. She has beer and a glass of champagne with her—the latter of which she offers to Harley, who makes grabby hands at it.

He grabs it before she can and sets it aside on an end table out of her reach. “Awww, you suck!”

He chuckles and kisses her temple. “You’ll thank me later when you’re not puking your guts out at midnight, Harls.”

That seems to satisfy her and she relaxes into his embrace.

“So,” Ramirez says. “This is the same Harley who almost burned the apartment down trying to make mac n cheese?”

“That was one time!”

“Three times, Harls. And then there was the time you set off the fire alarm making cookies.”

“That was one time!”

“And the time you—” she claps a hand over his mouth before he can finish his sentence.

“I think they get it! Now can we please change the subject?”

Rachel does the honors, as she comes back to the living room with her own glass of champagne. “So, Harley, what do you do for work?”

“Oh lots of stuff! Rob banks, murder dictators, yell at doctors. I have a card!”

She shoves her hand in her pocket and emerges with her handwritten business card. It’s covered in glitter and the ink is smudged. She hands it over to Rachel, who doesn’t really know what to make of the whole situation.

“Oh. I just… work in life insurance,” she says awkwardly, before attempting to read the card.

Rick snorts and tries to cover it up with a cough. People never quite know what to make of Harley when they first meet her.

“Does that say… ‘mercerany’?”

“It does,” he says with a laugh. It’s a running joke at this point. She’s in his phone under the name “Mercerany #4 (Harls)”.

“I was six margaritas and about five shots of tequila deep at that point, so sue me.”

“You also just suck at spelling even when you’re sober, Harls.”

“Fuck off!”

Rachel squints at the smudged handwriting. “Finder of lost things?”

“Oh! Yeah! I’m great at findin’ lost shit! If ya lose somethin’, I’m your gal!”

The alcohol keeps flowing as Harley launches into her story about her time with the Birds of Prey and Roman Sionis. Before Rick knows it, Rachel is lamenting about her asshole coworker who’s been making her life a living hell.

“And HR won’t do anything about it!”

“Oooh, want me to show up and set her desk on fire?”

Rachel laughs and almost chokes on her champagne.

“She’s serious, you know,” he feels the need to clarify. And then adds, “Maybe don’t go straight for arson, Harls? You’d probably get your point across just fine by yelling at her.”

“Can I at least use the giant hammer?”

“Sure, why not,” he says, before downing the rest of his beer.

“God, you are so cool!” Rachel gushes. She’s at least a full bottle of champagne deep at this point. “Can we be best friends?”

“Yes!” Harley agrees. “Ooooh! You should do roller derby with me!”

“Harls, they live in Montana.”

“Where the fuck is Montana?”

“Across the country, Harls. The state we’re in right now, in fact.”

“Oh. Well that sucks.”

The women settle for getting each other’s phone numbers and promising to text each other every single day.

Rick checks his watch once Harley starts losing steam—five minutes to midnight. He nudges her awake and tells her, “C’mon, wake up, you’re gonna miss it.”

She’s wide awake once the countdown starts.

Ten! Nine! Eight!

She quickly stands up and pulls him out the door to the front porch—where they’re surrounded by a blanket of snow.

“Happy New Year!” they hear from inside the house.

Harley rolls up on her toes and pulls him into a kiss. “Happy New Year, baby,” she says, forehead pressed against his.

“Happy New Year, Harls.”

They share another kiss as the snow starts falling again.

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firemedicdiaz · 1 year

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Rejoice, Rebuild, the Storm has Passed

Fandom: 9-1-1. Character(s): Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley, Eddie Diaz. Word Count: 2583. Genre: hurt/comfort, gen. Rating: teen and up. Note: thank you to @dearestdiaz and @fireladybuckley for your endless encouragement, ideas, cheerleading, and the final beta. This never would have been possible without your patience and support!

Summary: Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since Buck’s lightning strike and the cardiac arrest that followed. Twelve days since he woke up from his coma. A hundred and twenty hours since he was released from hospital into Eddie’s care. Only seconds since the last time Eddie relived the flash and the deafening silence that followed as he’d put his ear to Buck’s chest and heard nothing.

Read it on AO3

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since Buck’s lightning strike and the cardiac arrest that followed. Twelve days since he woke up from his coma. A hundred and twenty hours since he was released from hospital into Eddie’s care. Only seconds since the last time Eddie relived the flash and the deafening silence that followed as he’d put his ear to Buck’s chest and heard nothing.

By contrast, the rhythmic drone of the monitor hanging over Buck’s bed in the hospital following his admission had been at once maddening and the sweetest sound Eddie had ever heard. What he would have given for Buck not to have had to go through another hospital stay. Hell, what he would have given not to have had to sit at Buck’s bedside, praying and waiting for him to come out of the coma that had come after his arrest. Maybe it was selfish, but after the explosion and the tsunami, Eddie had hoped he would never have to see Buck in such acute danger again.

Now, watching Buck doze on the couch, it almost feels like none of it ever happened. Every blink tells a different story, though, reconstructing the agonizing period between then and now in split-second shots spread out like photographs across his hippocampus. The memories are so vivid he can almost taste the static in the air in the aftermath of the lightning strike.

Buck’s chest is bare where the light blanket covering him has slipped down, exposing his right side, and Eddie swears he can still see the Lichtenberg figures that have long since paled fanning across Buck’s skin. He doesn’t think they’ll ever fade from his memory, just like the feeling of Buck’s pulseless body beneath his hands, ribs grinding where Chim had already broken them as Eddie had compressed his chest on the way through the hospital doors. Just like the panic that had risen like bile at the back of his throat when he’d watched the rhythm on the monitor swing back and forth between sinus and V-fib for the first couple of days after the injury while Buck’s troponin levels slowly normalized. His heart had been injured as badly as the rest of him, had given out again in the ICU, but the doctors had been optimistic when he’d been discharged. He’d been free of arrhythmias for a few days already and so long as the trend continued he should be just fine in the long run.

And Eddie?

Eddie’s fine. He’d come away from his own brush with injury with a bit of black and blue but a handful of ibuprofen and a few days’ rest had set him straight. Now the only thing that remains of that day is the persistent pressure behind his sternum that eases only when he’s near enough to Buck to hear him breathing nice and steady. He wants to say that the reason he hasn’t returned to work yet is that he’s keeping an eye on Buck but anyone who deigned to look a little closer would be able to call his bluff.

A soft whimper catches his attention and he’s instantly on high alert, standing up from the armchair and side-stepping in between the couch and the coffee table as Buck shifts a little in his sleep. Perching on the table, Eddie reaches forward, fingers twitching impotently as he tries to localize what’s happening, what’s wrong. Before he can settle a hand anywhere, though, Buck’s eyes open and he frowns in confusion at finding Eddie hovering so nearby.

“Hey,” Buck croaks hoarsely, licking his lips and finding no relief from the dryness there.

Eddie reaches for the water glass slowly gathering bubbles the longer it sits on the table and presses it into Buck’s hands. “You okay?”

Buck hums, the sound echoing off the inside of the vessel as he brings it to his lips to take a long, slow sip. Eddie takes it away again once he’s had his fill, his gaze unwavering as he waits.

“I had the weirdest dream,” Buck murmurs, grimacing like chasing the fading memory causes him physical pain. “I don’t remember anything from that night but it felt so familiar, you know? Like maybe it’s starting to come back to me.”

Eddie briefly, vaguely wishes he, too, could forget. He doesn’t think he ever will, though, and in a way he’s grateful. A reprieve from the memories would be dangerous. He could get too comfortable, slip up, let Buck down again. Now is not the time or place, though. Right now he needs a clear head, needs to focus on Buck - on Buck’s recovery.

His words taste like the ozone in the air that night when he speaks.

“What did you dream about?”

Buck chuckles but the humor doesn’t reach his eyes.

“I could feel the pain,” Buck begins quietly, dropping his gaze as he worries his lip with his teeth. “And I could hear your voice. You called my name. It sounded so far away through the rain but I knew it was you. And then I felt my heart stop. I-I tried to hang on but I couldn’t. I couldn’t see. And then I couldn’t breathe. And the next thing I knew, I could hear your voice again. You were asking me to come back to you. You said you had something to tell me - you had a lot to tell me. You said -” another mirthless laugh. “- that you didn’t want to tell me then because you needed to know that I’d heard you.”

The floor falls out from beneath Eddie at that moment, all of the air in his lungs leaving his body in a rush like he’s been sucker punched in the solar plexus. There had been roughly two days between the beginning and end of what Buck had dreamt but he wasn’t wrong. Eddie could feel the way the scream had torn at his vocal cords when he’d called to Buck over the storm. He could feel the way Buck’s hand had laid lifeless in his grasp as he’d sat at his bedside in the hospital, narrating his stream of consciousness as immense feelings welled up inside of him. Feelings he’d been grappling with for months on end that had finally been wrenched from inside him by the threat of losing Buck before he ever got a chance to admit them.

He licks his lips and dives into something a little less charged.

“Post-traumatic amnesia can be weird,” Eddie says lightly, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Our brains are wired to try and make sense of whatever bits of information they can glean from a situation and to create associations to help cement things in our memories. After a traumatic event we tend to piece together what actually happened with what our brains think should have happened and create false memories to fill in the blanks.”

He can feel Buck’s gaze on him as he dips his head and stares at his hands in his lap, fingers entwined to stop their anxious fiddling.

“So that didn’t happen?”

Something in Eddie’s jaw ticks at Buck’s question. He’d waited by Buck’s bedside for him to wake up and promised himself that he wouldn’t put off telling Buck how he felt any longer once he did but his courage had gotten away from him. Another week and a half of silence had given him the opportunity to tuck those feelings away even deeper once again and now he’s frozen.

“What happened was your heart stopped,” Eddie says thickly, emotions settling like a lump in his throat and making it difficult to speak, to breathe. He knows Buck knows it already, but talking about the cold, hard facts feels safer than toeing into the feelings Buck has brought up. “Chim hit you with a couple of rounds of epi while I did compressions. Eventually you converted from asystole into V-fib and we shocked you back into sinus. Then you checked out on us for a few days. Your brain shut down so that your body could heal, but some people report pretty vivid dreams even in a deep comatose state.”

A few beats of silence pass, and then -

“That’s not a no.”

Eddie can’t keep his hands from shaking anymore. He bites back a curse and sighs deeply as he looks up, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. He sees the switch get thrown in Buck’s head as the other man catches sight of the state he’s in and it must be even worse than it feels if Buck’s sudden gentleness is anything to go by.

“Eds, hey, it’s okay,” Buck consoles quietly, reaching out, fingers brushing Eddie’s knuckles where they’re white from how tightly he’s got them clenched. At least there’s a little solace to be garnered from the way Buck meets Eddie where he’s at, his focus shifting to the same cold, hard facts about his condition. “I’m going to be okay. They wouldn’t have let me out of the hospital if I wasn’t.”

Eddie laughs. It’s a hollow, tortured sound that doesn’t fool either of them and Buck gets it. He gets feeling like the person who matters most in his life might ripple and blow away in an instant like a mirage, like they were never really there at all. He’d felt it when Eddie had been shot in broad daylight on his watch and he remembers the agony acutely. He remembers how the only thing that had brought him any relief had been watching Eddie’s heart rhythm on the monitors over his bed in the hospital, listening to his soft snores as he’d slept off the trauma in the warmth of his own bed after he’d been discharged. Buck gets it and he knows that there’s nothing he can say or do that will erase the memory of the lightning strike and the aftermath, but he needs to try.

Buck barely even thinks about it as he reaches for the stethoscope Eddie had haphazardly draped over the arm of the couch after an earlier check of his vitals. He bites back a grimace as he sits up, his broken ribs screaming in protest even with the help of strong painkillers, and brackets Eddie’s legs with his own. He can feel Eddie watching him but his focus is on his hands - unsteady from the medication - as he carefully reaches up and plugs the stethoscope into Eddie’s ears.

Eddie sits preternaturally still, watching Buck as he lifts the diaphragm and presses it to his chest over the lower curve of his left pec. The moment feels significant in a way Eddie can’t quite describe and his chest feels tight with the gravitas of it all. His own heart seems to pause in the second before he hears Buck’s first beat and the immense flood of relief that follows the sound nearly topples him.

“I’m okay,” Buck says quietly, startling Eddie as his words echo through the stethoscope’s tubing.

And as he listens to Buck’s slow, steady heartbeat, Eddie almost believes it. He knows that Buck will recover physically in another month or two, but he also knows that the scars run much, much deeper than that. Hell, Eddie’s own scars might never fade after watching Buck die on his watch. Buck had always trusted him to have his back and Eddie had failed. He’d been unable to protect him in that moment. He’d let Buck down and it had almost cost Buck his life.

Eddie shuts his eyes as the tears threaten. He’s not ready to let himself cry yet and Buck sure as hell doesn’t need to see it. Instead, he zeroes in on the sound of Buck’s heartbeat chanting alive, alive, alive all around him, echoing through every cell in his body.

A hand touches one of his and Eddie allows Buck’s fingers to wrap around it. He relaxes his shoulder as Buck pulls his hand forward and directs him to take over holding the stethoscope. Eddie’s fingers close around the bell and lift it a fraction, just enough to move it to where the sound of Buck’s heartbeat is completely unencumbered in the soft spot between two of his ribs.

“You brought me back and I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie nearly loses his grip. On the stethoscope, on his self-control, on the tears he’s barely keeping in check as it is. He drops his gaze again, staring at the spot on Buck’s chest where the stethoscope is biting into his skin just a little and wonders how Buck can be so composed. How Buck can say something so significant with so little concern.

But then, Eddie knows. He knows Buck’s been here before, lost in the same emotional mire, treading the same waters as the ones threatening to overwhelm him in the moment. Buck had watched Eddie nearly die, stood by while they’d opened his chest to fix the damage the bullet had wrought as it tore through him, delivered the same sort of news to Christopher as Eddie had. If there’s anyone who can understand what Eddie’s feeling, it’s Buck.

Suddenly, Buck’s gentleness takes on a whole new meaning and Eddie understands. Buck isn’t suffering from a lack of concern; he’s handling Eddie with kid gloves. In any other situation it might have gotten under Eddie’s skin, but here, now, as he listens to Buck’s heartbeat and collects the fractured pieces of himself, he’s grateful. Buck understands, leaving no need for questions, no room for the kind of curiosity that would crumble Eddie’s resolve and loosen his lips. Buck is granting Eddie a reprieve for just a little longer and Eddie takes the out.

Eddie’s not sure how much time has elapsed as he slowly pulls away, lifting the stethoscope from Buck’s chest, committing the sound of his strong, steady heartbeat to memory. He winces a little as he pulls the eartips out of place and realizes that it’s been longer than he’d thought. He swallows past the lump in his throat and looks up, coiling the stethoscope in on itself and pressing it into Buck’s waiting hands. He watches as Buck shifts toward one end of the couch to tuck the stethoscope into the small med kit Eddie has had there on standby since the day he’d brought back home and he puts out a hand to stop him.

“No, wait, leave it out,” Eddie asserts roughly, wringing his hands together for lack of anything more productive to do with them. “I need it close by. I need to be able to keep an eye on you. I need to know that your heart-”

Eddie’s sentence dies on his lips as he meets Buck’s eyes and sees a perfect, innate knowing there.

“Is still beating just fine,” Buck finishes with a small, meaningful smile. “I know.”

And, somehow, amidst flashbacks to shared traumas past, Eddie thinks that he does. Suddenly, the conspicuous absence of the sound of Buck’s heartbeat isn’t quite as loud as it was before and Eddie exhales as one infinitesimally small piece of him fits back into place. It’s not much but it’s a start, and knowing that he gets to keep Buck close at hand for a while longer as he recovers offers him a glimpse at the other side of all of this.

It’s not much, but it’s hope and maybe, just maybe, he’ll be able to trade some of it in for healing someday soon.

#9-1-1 #9-1-1 Fox #Evan 'Buck' Buckley #Eddie Diaz #feelings realization #post s06e10: in a flash #mentions of cardiac arrest #mentions of coma #hurt/comfort #these boys have so much trauma #fanfiction

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