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the-whispers-of-death · 2 months

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Can you do an imagine where Stone and Reader (as well as the other 141) are on a mission and Reader gets shot? He doesn't die, but how would Stone react? How would he heal Reader? Would he take him in his arms and run away to help him outside the whole chaos or?

Would he be gentle while taking care of the wounds? Would he be extremely pissed of at the way Reader was 'careless'?

Especially if Reader got shot to not let a bullet hit Stone.

Oh, so you want the angst, huh? But I shall abide, let's get angsty.

TW: Blood, slightly gory when Stone patches Reader up

Stone saw the enemy soldier lift their gun and point it at him, it all seemed like it was happening in slow-motion. Before he could think about diving out of the way before the bullet hit him, you dove in front of him and took the bullet for him.

You two collided, sending you both flying onto the floor. He grabbed you in his arms, making sure that you fell on top of him and not onto the cold floor. He could hear Ghost curse and take out the enemy soldier that had shot you.

"Stone, take him to the extraction vehicle to patch him up!" Price yelled at Stone. He then turned to Gaz. "Go with them to provide cover!"

Stone didn't need to be told twice, nor did Gaz. With Gaz watching his back, he picked you up like you were weightless. He ensured his medical bag was still on his shoulders before making his way to the exit of the warehouse. He didn't say anything, not yet. He first had to get you to safety so he could take care of your wounds.

A quick glance down at you told him that thankfully you had been hit in the shoulder and not in any major organs. You'd survive and that was a comforting fact to him.

He made it to the extraction vehicle where the soldier who would be driving cursed at the sight of you bleeding. Stone ignored the soldier and set you down in the back while Gaz stayed outside, scanning for any enemies.

"That was stupid of you," Stone said, his voice cold as always whenever he was in the field. He got in the back with you, cutting your uniform open to see the wound. "I could've handled getting shot."

You winced as he felt around to see if the bullet had been a through-and-through, and thankfully it had. "I acted on instinct, Stone. I saw the gun trained on you and I dove without thinking," you replied.

He frowned at that, sighing. "Don't you ever do that again."

It was hypocritical of him to scold you, especially when he knew he had a history of diving in front of others to take what would be their injuries, but you made him act hypocritical. He didn't like the thought of you taking a bullet for him, so he wasn't very happy about this situation. And it was clear by the way he wasn't trying to be gentle with cleaning the wound to stitch it up, not that he was usually gentle.

"Hold still," Stone murmured once your wound was cleaned. He threaded the needle after opening his suture kit and he carefully started stitching your wound close.

"You work so efficiently," You said, unable to help yourself.

Stone's movements were methodical, graceful even. His large hands didn't shake once as he pulled the needle through your skin, so efficient. He was patching you up like he had been doing it for years, and well he had been doing it for years. He was a Corpsman for fifteen years and counting, after all.

Stone didn't comment on how most of his patching up of soldiers in his earlier years had been mostly him patching himself up. He didn't seem the need to bring up such unpleasant memories.

Stone simply answered, "There is a reason why I was the medic sent to a highly elite squad."

As he finished stitching you up and wrapping your wound in gauze and bandages, the rest of the 141 ran out of the warehouse, having completed their mission. He closed up his medical bag and shifted you gently to make place for the others, everyone else piling into the extraction vehicle.

When everyone was back on base, Stone wouldn't budge on taking you to the hospital building on base. He gave you bed-rest, eyeing your injured shoulder every time he saw you. And he resumed his scolding of your carelessness each time he checked up on you.

He was flattered that you took a bullet for him, but he thought you were a stupid man for doing so.

At least you were going to survive.

Reblogs are welcomed & appreciated! Asks are open, feel free to pop in and talk or request something! (SFW requests only, please and thank you)

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sisterspooky1013 · 6 months

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Gaslight, Chapter 22/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Ellicott City, MD

Don’t know how you do what you do, I’m so in love with you. It just keeps getting better.

I wanna spend the rest of my life with you by my side, forever and ever.

Every little thing that you do, baby I’m amazed by you.

She snaps off the radio, then pulls Tiffany’s scarf off her head and tosses it onto the passenger seat. What is she supposed to do now? Where is she supposed to go? Her instincts tell her to run, but what about the children? She is the reason they’re involved in this in the first place, and guilt sinks heavily from her heart to her belly as she imagines what might happen to them now that the jig is up. Will they be discarded like trash? Will they be leveraged against her, used as pawns in an even more disturbing way? She wants to protect them, but to this point it’s her very proximity to them that has put them at risk. Though it goes against every maternal instinct in her body, she comes to the conclusion that the best thing she can do for them right now is to get as far away from them as possible.

Eyes on the road, one hand on the wheel, she digs around in her purse for her cell phone, finally pulling it free and flipping it open with her thumb. Her hands are still trembling, but she manages to dial. Lunch hour traffic means she hits every red light possible, and she can’t stop looking at the vehicles and sidewalks around her, waiting for another black suit to appear.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up,” she mumbles to herself, checking the rearview mirror obsessively.

“Dana?”

“Cal,” she says, relieved to hear his voice. “I’m on my way home, and I’m going to need to go away for a little while,” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“I’m already at home,” he says in a small, fearful voice.

“What? Why?” she asks, checking her blindspot before she switches lanes.

“I couldn’t—I just couldn’t,” he says tightly, and she realizes that he’s crying.

“Cal, I’ll be home in ten minutes, okay? Wait for me, and don’t open the door for anyone,” she says, finding confidence she didn’t realize she had within her. “Is your car in the garage?”

“Yeah,” he says in a near whisper.

“I need you to move it to the driveway so I can park in the garage, can you do that?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Okay, move the car, and then go inside and lock the door. I’ll be home soon.”

Twelve minutes later, she pulls into their driveway and jumps out to open the garage before parking Tiffany’s car inside it. When she enters the house, she finds it stonily silent and still.

“Cal?” she calls out, half expecting the smoking man from the hospital to appear instead.

“Over here.”

She follows the sound of his voice to the stairwell where he is sitting mid-flight, his head in his hands. She approaches slowly, sitting on the step just below him and laying her hand on top of his knee.

“Hey,” she says softly, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“I’m all fucked up, mija,” he whimpers, followed by a wet sniff. “I’m just—I don’t know what to do.”

She moves one step up, wedging herself between his body and the bannister, and wraps her arm around his shoulders. He leans into her, and she rubs her palm up and down over his upper arm comfortingly.

“What happened?” she asks.

He sniffs and swipes his hand across his nose, composing himself.

“Everything is off,” he explains. “Nothing feels right. I couldn’t remember the PIN for my debit card to get gas, and then I got to work and I sat down at my desk and—it’s like it fell out of my head, Dana. Like it’s just gone.”

“What is?”

He sits up and looks at her. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen, his bottom lip quivering.

“Everything,” he says gravely. “I don’t know how to code. I can’t even fucking understand the code I wrote yesterday.”

“Oh,” she says, understanding.

“What’s happening to me?” he asks, and the pain in his voice makes her heart ache.

“I can only tell you what I was told, and I can’t be sure that what I was told is entirely accurate,” she says, her hand resting on his back.

“Just tell me, please,” he begs.

She looks away, running her tongue across her bottom lip as she decides how to explain it. She suddenly understands how challenging it was for Alex to relay the same information to her.

“I’m not your wife,” she says evenly. “You’re not my husband. Abby and Peter aren’t our children. This whole thing,” she says, gesturing to the house around them, “is a lie. A farce. Whoever did this to us…they went to very great lengths to make us believe that this life is ours.”

She pauses and turns to look at him, finding a somewhat vacant expression on his face. She can empathize, and knows that the questions are too numerous to even begin asking them. She has to keep talking.

“The chip in your neck contained memories. Memories of how we met, Abby and Peter’s births, your training in software engineering. Every single detail since 1992. And whatever they did to us, and whatever was in that medication, helped ensure that we wouldn’t remember what really happened. So that we’d believe it, the lie. And by removing your chip, I also removed those memories. That’s why you can’t remember how to code.”

“Or that pancakes are waffles,” he says absently.

“Right,” she confirms.

He stares off into the middle distance for a moment, allowing this new information to sink in.

“They’re not ours?” he asks, turning to look at her with a kind of disbelieving hurt on his face.

She shakes her head gently, her lips pressed together sympathetically.

“Not biologically, no. But they don’t know that. They still have their chips, and as long as they do, all they know is us,” she tells him, and he nods, looking away again.

“I don’t think I’m a good guy, Dana,” he says after a moment, and she narrows her eyes at him.

“What do you mean?”

He drops his head, staring at the carpeted step between his feet.

“They were cleaning the windows in the office and the smell of it—kind of like ammonia, maybe? It did something to me,” he says hesitantly.

“What did it do?”

“It made me remember something,” he says very quietly. He lifts his hands, forming loose fists. He moves them closer to his face and she realizes that he’s miming smoking from a pipe. “It wasn’t pot,” he says shamefully.

She sighs and moves into the space between his knees, kneeling on the step just below him. She grabs his hands, holding them in her own and looking him straight in the eye.

“Listen to me,” she says sternly. “I don’t know who you were or what you did before they did this to you, but it doesn’t matter. To me, you are Cal. You’re a good man, and a wonderful husband and father.” She feels her throat constrict and she swallows against it. She needs to be strong for him. “Whoever did this is looking for me, Cal. They came to the hospital, and it’s only a matter of time before they show up here. I’m not safe here.”

His eyes widen and his mouth falls open, but she stops him before his mind wanders too far.

“This isn’t about you,” she explains. “This is about me, and a man I used to work with. You and the kids were used to distract me, to make me believe the lie. I don’t have any reason to think they’ll harm you, unless they think they can use you to get to me.”

“What do we do?” he asks.

“I have to leave. I’m not going to tell you where I plan to go because you can’t be forced to provide information that you don’t have. I need you to take care of the kids, okay? You can call my mom for help if you need to. She has no idea any of this is happening, so just tell her that I had a work emergency or something. If anyone asks, say that you’re taking the medication, and do not tell anyone that I removed your chip, okay? Can you do that?”

He nods, but it’s lacking confidence.

“Will we see you again?” he asks hoarsely, and her chin puckers.

“I hope so,” she whispers, and he opens his arms, pulling her into a hug.

She hastily packs a bag with a few changes of clothes and basic toiletries, plus the Sam Cooke CD and the rest of the Numerol. She wishes she could take Cal’s chip for evidence or eventual analysis, but if Alex was right that it can be used to track her movements, it would be unsafe to do so. She remembers finding $800 cash stuffed into a cookie tin during her initial investigation of the house, and she takes that too. She loads her bag into Tiffany’s car and then turns back to Cal, who is standing in the doorway between the house and garage.

“Where did you get the car?” he asks, and she smiles thinly. “Never mind,” he says with a sigh, realizing that it’s the least of their worries.

They stand there for a moment, looking at one another. There’s so much she doesn’t know about him, so much he doesn’t know about himself, but he is still the person she trusts most in the world right now. The only person she trusts, really. She wishes that she didn’t have to do this alone. She suspects that he wishes the same.

“I’ll be in touch when I can,” she says, and he nods. “Give the kids big hugs and kisses for me, okay?”

His face crumples and he looks at the floor. She turns to get in the car, but then changes her mind and walks the handful of steps to where he is standing. She grabs his hand and he lifts his head, absolute agony in his eyes.

“You’re going to be okay,” she assures him, and his jaw jerks to the side.

“What about you?” he asks, his shoulder jumping.

“I hope to be,” she says, forgoing empty promises.

She pushes up onto her tiptoes and presses her lips to his cheek. Before her resolve can crumble any further, she climbs into the car and starts the ignition. Cal walks slowly alongside the driver’s side window as she backs out of the garage, and then follows her down the driveway. Before she turns the corner she takes one final glimpse in the rear view mirror at his tall, trim frame silhouetted against the backdrop of a suburban neighborhood.

It was a beautiful lie they created for her, and part of her is sad to leave it behind. But she chooses to look forward in hopes that she might be able to find her past, and the missing piece that she’s been mourning since the moment she woke up in the hospital.

He. Him.

Mulder.

She heads south, flipping the radio back on so she doesn’t feel so lonely. Her chest aches in the persistent, heavy way that only loss brings, and she hates just how familiar the sensation has become to her.

She’s worried about Cal, about the kids, about herself. She wonders if Mulder has any idea what’s happening, or if he is blissfully ignorant. She starts to think about the most effective way she can explain it to him, if she has the chance. And if she does explain it, and he doesn’t believe her, then what? Or, even worse, what if he does believe her but chooses his new life, his wife, over whatever they had and lost?

Scar tissue that I wish you saw,

Sarcastic mister know-it-all.

Close your eyes and I’ll kiss you, ‘cause

With the birds I’ll share

She feels slightly lightheaded suddenly, and she blinks rapidly and shakes her head back and forth to clear it away.

With the birds I’ll share this lonely view.

She flips on the turn signal and pulls off to the side of the road, her heart racing. She feels like she might be having a panic attack.

Push me up against the wall,

Young Kentucky girl in a push-up bra.

I’m fallin’ all over myself

To lick your heart and taste your health, ‘cause

It slams into her like a punch to the gut, making her head ache above her left ear. She can physically feel the synapses reaching out, connecting, pulling it up from the depths. Memories, unearthed like buried treasure.

“What are you saying?” he asks, flashing his eyes between her and the road with a haughty little smirk on his mouth.

“The song,” she answers, pointing to the radio.

“Sing it for me,” he requests, and her cheeks burn.

“I know I’m a terrible singer, Mulder, you don’t have to rub it in,” she grumbles, turning towards the window.

“I’m not making commentary on your vocal stylings, Scully, just tell me what the lyrics say,” he insists.

“With the blood that’s shed, it’s a lonely view,” she says flatly, and he chuffs a laugh. “What?”

“That is definitely not how the song goes,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s ‘with the birds I’ll share this lonely view’.”

She pauses, listening to the final chorus of the song.

“Hm,” she says.

“Hm?” he repeats. “Hm, you’re totally right, Mulder? Hm, those lyrics make a lot more sense?” he teases, reaching across the console to poke her arm with his index finger.

She turns her head sharply and gives him her very best irritated glare.

“Gloating is extremely unattractive,” she informs him, and he laughs.

“Does this mean you’re not coming over tonight?” he asks cheekily. “‘Cause I had plans for you, Scully.” He looks at her until she meets his eye, then adds, “Big plans.”

She rolls her eyes and looks out the passenger side window.

“Shut up, Mulder.”

She grips the steering wheel so tightly that her fingers go numb, her chest heaving and her heart pounding. Slowly, slowly, she returns to earth, to the shoulder of US-29-S, to the driver’s seat of Tiffany’s Escalade. As soon as the panic subsides, the tears come, running in torrents down her cheeks and keeping her stationary, unfit to operate heavy machinery in her current state. She wants more, so much more. She wants it all. She wants him.

Eventually, she feels ready to return to the road. She finds a seedy motel just outside the city that she’s confident won’t ask for ID, and lays clean-smelling towels over the top of the questionable-looking sheets before she curls up on the bed and begs for the respite of sleep. It’s early, but she’s exhausted, and feels like she needs the freshness of a new day in order to think clearly.

Tomorrow, she will return to the city she left behind against her will and try to find the torn edges of her stolen life. Tonight, she will pray that he meets her in her dreams, at least until the day she can return to his arms.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #x files fanfic #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #xf fanfic #x files #the x-files #xfiles #thexfiles

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elk96 · 10 months

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A Battle Of Ideals 1

Part One.

Pairing: Chris O' Doyle( Free Fire) x female OC

Warnings: graphic description of blood, wounds, some violence, swearing cause that's all they did in that movie, enemies to lovers kinda?, h/c, English is not my first language.

Word Count: 2287

After the gunfight ends, a woman comes out of the shadows, to take care of him even though they seem to belong in completely different worlds. Her goal turns out to be in high contrast with her actions.

This is a sappy, completely self indulgent story guys, you have been warned. Chris suffers, a woman is there to take care of him. They also hate each other some times, especially in the start. That's it

You’re being ridiculously loud right now, Chris thought, his breathing echoing amongst the dead. The building was empty now, but he somehow preferred the panic, the gunshots -even the fear. He was not afraid now. He knew that death was approaching-and but for his fucking leg maybe he could try to go to a hospital, ask for help.

He moved his head to rest it on Ord’s body-it wasn’t bad, having a more comfortable deathbed. He never liked the guy anyway.

“Goddamnit Stevo”, he groaned, trying to remain conscious a little while longer. Suffering like a wounded animal he was, covered in dirt and blood.

“God has damned all of us, a long time ago. I thought you knew”, said a voice-a female voice-, and Chris put his best effort to lift his head up.

“Who the fuck are you, eh”?, he rasped out. God he was hit everywhere, he might as well end up drowning in his own blood.

“Glad to see you’re still breathing”, the voice spoke again, and a woman showed up from the furthest corner, dressed in brown jeans and a bloody button-up.

“Who are you”?, Chris asked again, his voice mimicking pathetically a whine. She certainly wasn't with the police.

“That doesn’t matter now though, does it”?, the woman said and a gun appeared along with her. Chris reached instinctively for his own weapon, despite his being way too weak to even aim.

“Don’t worry, I’m here to help. The cops will arrive any minute now, we have to go”.

“Fuck off”.

“I will. With you. Put the gun down, before I cut your hand off”.

The woman knelt beside him, softly taking the weapon from him, and put it in her own pocket.

“My car’s outside. I’ll bring it in in two minute’s time. Don’t die, Irishman”.

“Fuck off and leave me alone, will ya”?

“Save your strength”, the stranger said and then she left him alone again, fighting to breathe because his chest felt heavy, and the blood was sipping through his veins on the floor.

He wanted it to end, to stop the suffering ‘cause it was all futile anyway, but she had taken his gun.

I only wanted a fucking beer and a nice dinner!, he complained silently, face scrunched in despair, but the sound of car tracks made him jolt upright. His loud groan covered the sound of the engine.

“The cops are on their way, we have to hurry”, the woman said and knelt behind him this time, pulling him upright despite his sounds of pain.

“Help me or I’ll empty your own gun on you, you bastard. Get up”! The woman poked him on the shoulder and the pain helped him stand, somehow.

Only half-conscious, almost too far gone to hear anything but his own heartbeat, he was thrown in the backseat of a black car.

“Frank. We left Frank here”, he murmured suddenly as the vehicle began to move. “I’d promised I’d take him home”.

“You’re not going home Chris, so….there’s very little you can do”.

“Who the fuck do you work for”?

“At the moment, your own good. And my name is Amara. Stay awake Chris. It’s for the best, I promise”.

“Fuck you and your promises”, he murmured under his breath, but he didn’t faint anyway. The dull, intense ache ran through his body keeping him grounded to reality.

After a short drive, the woman pulled over, and sat with him on the backseat.

“We’re getting close to the end of your hour and a half, Chris”, Amara murmured, opening a first-aid kit.

“Really now? A nurse? Can’t I go to hospital”?

“Dead or captive you won’t be of any use for us”.

“Who is ‘us’”?

“Take a deep breath”, Amara warned him and a moment later she removed the jacket off of his shoulders, ripping his shirt apart.

“Damn it”, she whispered on seeing the bullet wounds. She quickly pressed cotton soaked in rubbing alcohol on his shoulder, his arm, his ribs. Amara then cleaned the wounds with water, and covered them tightly in bandages. Chris tried to avoid her harsh treatment, but the woman pinned him against the backseat with her weight.

“Lay back. Lay back, now”, she said coldly, and after Chris obliged proceeding to take off his boots, his trousers following.

“Fucking hell”, Chris hissed, as the hard material scraped his wound.

“This is what happens when you go buy guns, pal”, Amara said, repeating the exact same process, not a tiny bit more gentle. The car’s seat was slippery from his sweat, but Chriss was proud enough not to make a sound. Or try to, at least. It’s not easy when you’ve been shot in three places.

Amara threw a heavy blanket on him, to keep him somehow warm, and Chris layed down during their pleasant ride. The road was bumpy, full of sudden turns and dips, and he then, more than ever, wished he could’ve stayed with Frank, and Stevo. Dead, calm, and still.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t bring painkillers with me, I’ll give you as soon as we get home”, Amara said in a haste, after a loud yelp escaped him.

Chris was fighting to keep breathing-should be the easiest of all his fights, and yet, there he was, begging her to open the window, craving some fresh air after all the dust.

“Don’t worry, everything will ease in a while”, Amara whispered as soon as they reached their destination. Wrapping Chris with the blanket, she helped him out of the car, and into a small house, but Chris collapsed on the first step of the yard’s starecase.

“Wait a minute…I need to-...catch my breath”, he uttered, making her heart clench on her chest.

“We have to get inside before the neighbors see us. It’s just four steps”.

“Wait a minute…wait”, he insisted but Amara pulled him up, ignorant to his loud groans.

Chris was too far gone to notice anything of his surroundings, but the bright light of a lamp made his eyes burn, so he didn’t make any effort to open them. He was splayed on a chair. He heard water running on a sink, and moments later, a hand came to hold his jaw high.

Amara held the cup for him as he drunk clumsily, spilling half of the water on himself.

“It’s okay, don’t worry”, Amara whispered, bringing a bottle to his lips. “Drink”, she said softly. “It’s whiskey. Irish”.

Chris half-opened his eyes, finding comfort in the burning tickle of the alcohol. He drank as much as he could bear, and the weight on his head lifted up immediately.

“You’re okay, eh Chris”?, Amara asked, holding his face between her hands. She pushed some stray hair behind his ear, looking at him in the eyes. “You’re gonna lay in bed real soon-just don’t go find Frank”.

“You bitch…”, Chris muttered but his whole body froze as Amara appeared with new bandages, needles, thread and pliers.

“You didn’t think I’d leave them inside of you, did you”?

Not today, please not today, Chris wanted to beg her but he kept his lips tightly pressed together as Amara freed his shoulder from the bandage.

She cleaned her hands with the alcohol, and put on gloves before picking up the surgical pliers.

“You’re lucky”, she said examining the wound. “It’s shallow. It will hurt like hell nonetheless”, she muttered and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket, which she tied around his head.

“Just tell me if you can’t breathe, hm”?, she mocked him, shoving the handkerchief onto his mouth.

She picked up those damn pliers again, and with clenched teeth, began to pick on his wound, trying to get the bullet out. Her left hand instinctively grabbed his right as he fought to get her off of him. Amara found the bullet quickly and dropped in on the glass with a relieved sight and pushed the gag down.

“Wait….ahh….wait”, Chris begged, his face wet with unwanted tears, but Amara pushed the thread on the needle.

“Better finish quickly”, she said, gagged him and stitched his wound with practiced ease.

Chris growled, moaned, clenched and unclenched all of his muscles during the next two hours of Amara tending to him. The wound on his ribs was particularly bad, leaving him almost unconscious after a loud moan which not even the gag managed to suppress.

“It’s okay, we’re done, that’s it”, Amara assured him with a broken voice, almost apologetic for all the pain she had caused him. His head hung back, chest falling and rising slowly. Every breath Chris took came out as a groan, louder each time as he completely lost control of himself.

Amara tilted his head forward, for him to drink some more water, wrapped him in a clean blanket, and carried him to the bedroom which luckily was close.

Chris had passed out and so no snarky comment came out of him when they entered the bedroom, which Amara had turned into essentially a hospital room.

She let him fall on the soft mattress before transferring some blood to him. The piercing of the needle against her skin made her wince, but she had the blood type, compatible with all others, and the whole job was arranged only a few hours before terrorists and gun dealers met. She had to shed her own blood for him if she wanted the plan to succeed, the killings to stop.

Just as the precious red liquid started running through the tubule Chris flattered his eyes half-open, drawing in a shaky breath.

Amara didn’t take her eyes off the needle and the tubule once, hyper-focused on the blood transfer. Chris let out a whine instead of a groan once she removed the needle from his skin.

“Shut up, what are you, a fucking dog”?, Amara said harshly, clinging to the effort of believing her own false pretence.

“You still have…my gun in your pocket…”, Chris struggled, “so stop wasting…your fucking blood…and-and kill me”.

“The only thing I’m gonna use this gun for, pal, is wake you up”, she answered poking on his bad leg. Chris yelped, with a moan that faded into a long whine but Amara bit her lip.

Struggling to keep her own emotions under control, she wiped gently on the tear running down his left cheek. Her eyes suddenly narrowed in worry, and she put a thermometer into his mouth, only to find him burning with fever.

“Damn it Chris, Vern was right”, she muttered, and rushed to bring him an aspirin. “It’s not gonna do anything for the pain, but it will help with the fever. I hope”.

“I want a smoke”, Chris said, mouth almost completely closed.

“Yeah, and then go fuck yourself, no”?

Chris made an effort to open his eyes in her direction, but she only sat beside him on the bed, brushing her fingers over his batted face.

“Sleep. Sleep, you need it”.

Chris shook his head forcefully.

“Sleep, you’ll be fine”.

His eyes danced around the room, taking on the last thing he’d see of the world.

“I cleaned your wounds. The fever will subside. Sleep now, and if you’re early, you might see the sun rise in the morning”.

He’s not going to die, she thought to herself, taking in the pieces left of him. The night was almost as still as him, only the distant sounds of a lost kitten, or the chipping of the nightbirds echoing in the world.

The world. Her world, the place she’d come to call home, a small, empty apartment in the middle of nowhere. So far away from New York, or her family, or anything she’d ever known as a kid, really. She couldn’t remember what day it was, but she did have the vague feeling that Zoey’s birthday was close.

32, she smiled. A mature, successful woman-had she lived past 24. They wanted M16s, and not A40s, these are not good enough to kill people, they need the best. She missed her sister more than even her old self, the one that would never poke a man in his wound. Or swear on him for groaning in pain.-You’re being sentimental! Cut it off, now! He is a terrorist. Not a fucking kid.

It was Chris’s soft growls that pulled her out of her thoughts. She snapped her eyes on him, only to find him shaking uncontrollably, still asleep. His muscles tensed and relaxed, and the spasms tied his limbs together, made him ache to the bone.

Tired though she was, she knelt beside him, one hand on his temple and the other resting heavily on his abdomen, trying to steady him.

“Hey Chris”, she whispered so as to figure if he was awake, but she got no answer. “Relax Chrissy, relax. It’s just the fever rising, nothing more”.

Her hand started brushing on his hair, then under his wet eyes, then down her own cheeks because she couldn’t take it anymore. Chris was not groaning, he was crying, desperately and softly, sobbing beneath her touch unbeknownst to him.

There was nothing she could do but wait-or so she told herself, so she sat back on her chair, eyes on the moon outside the window. When his whines and moans became unbearable, she covered her ears, praying for the night to end.

She was doing the right thing, she knew it. They had to be stopped, in order for the killings to stop, in order for people to live happily and-

The muscle of the gun pressed against her thigh as Chris’s sobs continued to echo in the room.

“A terrorist. Nothing more”, she whispered to herself and finally closed her eyes.

@look-at-the-soul , hope you like it!!

If you read, please interact, it would be like the best thing ever, comments, or corrections in my grammar, or anything else!

#cillian murphy #free fire #chris o doyle #chris free fire

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toppersjeep · 2 years

Text

The One-[Jay Halstead X Matt Casey]

Chapter 9- You Love You More

Link to other chapters

Elle’s POV

“Why is he back here” I said. “He complained to the Brass about Chief Boden” Kelly said. “You’ve got to be kidding me” I said. “It’s ridiculous I agree” Matt said. “He’s so selfish” I said. “You liked him remember” Kelly said.

“I guess I was blinded” I said. “Apparently” Matt said. “Casey” I said he laughed. “He likes to pick on you umm I need you to check your gear” Kelly said. “Alright” I said walking over to my gear.

I looked through my gear. Jimmy then walked over. Of course he wanted something from me. What else was new.

“So they still have you here” Jimmy said. “You see unlike you I worked my ass off to get in my position” I said. “Huh you know I did too my daddy wasn’t some big cop” Jimmy said. “My father didn’t hand me this position like everyone here I earned it god your an ass” I said standing up.

“You liked it remember” Jimmy said. “Borelli you were just a phase in my life” I said. “Is that why your hanging out with that detective Halstead right his brother is a doctor” Jimmy said. “My love life doesn’t concern you” I said setting my boots by the truck.

“Guys problem” Matt said. “No problem here Jimmy just forgot his place isn’t that right Candidate” I said. “Right” Jimmy said walking away. “Elena you have a visitor” Connie said. “I’m coming” I said. I walked into the firehouse. Jay was there with lunch and a single rose.

“Awee well thank you” I said. “I was around and I knew you were telling me about that little diner” Jay said. “Your the best” I said kissing him. “I was hoping we could eat lunch together” Jay said.

SQUAD 3. TRUCK 81. AMBULANCE 61: CAR ACCIDENT MULTIPLE VEHICLES

“That’s my que we can do dinner” I said. “I’ll hold you to that Elle” Jay said. “I’ll be there” I said. “Be safe” he said kissing me. “Always” I said.

We arrived at the scene a car had hit a truck carrying propane tanks. Which was already on fire. Jimmy was trying to get out of line already.

“Voight grab the jaws” Kelly said. “Got it” I said grabbing them from the truck. “We gotta get these guys” I heard Jimmy say. I ran back over to Kelly. “Borelli no” Matt said. “Come on seriously they need help” Jimmy said.

He ran to the truck it was about to explode. I ran over and grabbed him as it exploded but he had gotten burnt badly. I put out the fire on his jacket.

“Jimmy” I said looking at him. His face was burnt. “Medic” I yelled with tears in my eyes. “I’m coming” Brett said as Gabby followed. “Jimmy stay with us ok” I said crying. “Elena your burned on your neck” Gabby said. “Just worry about him ok” I said yelling at her.

The took him to the hospital.

“Elena go with them ok get checked out we got this” Kelly said. “Right” I said getting in the truck. They worked on him. I held his hand the whole way. It was stupid of me to still care about someone who hurt me. But I did I cared a lot.

We arrived at the hospital they took him into ICU. Will took care of the burn on my neck.

“Is Jimmy gonna be ok” I said as he cleaned the area were my burn is. “I can’t say right now Elena but your lucky you didn’t get badly burned” Will said. “You didn’t call Jay did you” I said. He put the bandage on. “I did Elena” Will said. “Am I all set” I said.

“Yes your fine just make sure you keep it wrapped and clean” Will said. I walked over to everyone else. I sat by Matt. “You ok” Matt said. “I think I’ll be fine I just” I said. “Elle thank god your ok” Jay said I ran over and hugged him.

“I’m here it’s ok” Jay said hugging me tightly. “I .. I know I didn’t think but” I said crying. “Shhh come here” Jay said we sat in the waiting room. I rested my head on his shoulder as he had his arm around me. He made me feel so safe with him.

We waited for any news about Jimmy. I hated waiting here. The doctor finally came out. I got up and walked over.

“Good news is he’s alive and ok bad news is his right eye was completely damaged and we couldn’t, do anything” the doctor said. “Anything else” I said. “Your Elena the one who saved him right” he said. “Yeah” I said.

“He kept trying to say Elle he wants to see you” he said. “Can I” I asked. “Go ahead” he said. I walked into the room. He was in a full body cast and on oxygen so he could breathe. I sat next to the bed in the chair.

I pulled it closer to be next to him.

“I’m sorry.. I feel like such a complete jerk” I said tearing up. “Jimmy I should’ve helped you save your brother.. this is on me” I said. He moved his hand over and I held it. He squeezed it tightly. “But I’m so glad your ok now I don’t know what I would’ve done” I said.

He looked at me. A tear rolled out of his eye.

“Maybe in another life we could’ve been friends or together even” I said sighing. “But I guess what I’m trying to say is sorry” I said. He looked at me. “Elle his family is here” Will said. “I’ll let you see them” I said getting up.

I walked out and Will pulled me aside.

“You saved his life if you hadn’t grabbed him he’d be dead right now Elle don’t beat yourself up” Will said. “I just feel like it’s my fault” I said. “He’s a hothead you know that” Will said. “I know” I said. “And take care of those burns you’ll be good to work tomorrow” Will said.

“You got it” I said. “Well I’m gonna go talk to his sister in law about everything” Will said. “Alright thanks will” I said. I walked back out. Everyone looked at me. “So” Brett said. “He’s awake” I said.

(A/N:y’all won’t like me for this next part ik it wasn’t in the show)

Lights then went off near Jimmy’s room. My heart snuck.

“Dr.Halstead me need you” Jimmy’s sister yelled. “What’s happening” I said. “Elena I’m gonna need you to wait right here” Nat said. “Please tell me what’s going on” I said. “No I can’t do that” she said. “Why can’t you I don’t understand” I said tearing up. “Elena let’s take a walk” Ethan said.

“Why can’t I see him tell me” I said yelling. “Jay can you escort her outside please” Ethan said. “Come on” Jay said. “Before you do can I borrow you” Ethan said. Kim watched me while Ethan talked to Jay. “Come with me” Jay said.

“Jay what’s going on” I said. “Let’s get some air” Jay said. He walked me outside by the ambulance entrance. “What can’t you tell me inside” I said. “Elena” Jay said. “Jay what I don’t understand” I said. “Elle.. I’m sorry” Jay said cupping my cheek.

“What do you mean … Will said he was hopeful” I said tearing up. “… he didn’t make it” Jay said. “No” I said pacing back and forth. “There’s nothing they could’ve done the burns affected his lungs” Jay said. “It’s all my fault” I said. “No it’s not” Jay said.

“But… I” I said crying Jay hugged me tightly. “I’m here” he said rubbing my back. “I can’t” I said. “I’m sorry” he said kissing my forehead. “I was just talking to him” I said through tears. “Baby I’m so sorry” Jay said.

“Elena” Brett said walking over. “Brett” I said hugging her. “It’s not your fault ok” Brett said hugging me. “But it feels like it is” I said. “I know” Brett said. “Anything I can do” Kelly asked walking over to us.

“I just need a couple days” I said. “That’s fine I can get coverage” Kelly said. “Thanks” I said. “Boden wants to set up something at the house” Matt said. “I’d help” I said. “Jay can I talk to you” Dad said. “Yeah sure” Jay said.

Jays POV

I walked over to talk with Hank. Elle was talking with Matt and Kelly. So I knew she’d be fine for now. He pulled me aside so she couldn’t see us.

“What’s going on” I asked. “I need you to keep a close eye on her” Hank said. “Like on shift I can call her” I said. “No Jay I need you to stay with her while she’s off” Hank said. “She wouldn’t do anything” I said.

“After her mother died she got into alcohol and made a lot of bad choices Jay” Hank said. “Like what” I asked. “The only reason I let her be a firefighter is because she promised to stay away from alcohol” Hank said.

“You want me to keep an eye on her” I asked. “I do Jay I don’t wanna lose her too and I don’t want her, throwing her career away” Hank said.

Elle’s POV

Jay walked back over to me. Everyone kinda left to go home. Jay and I walked to his car.

“Want me to take you back to the fire department to get your stuff” Jay said. I just looked at the ground sadly. “Elle” Jay said. “It’s.. all my fault” I said crying. He hugged me. “No it’s not I promise you” Jay said kissing my head. “Let’s go home ok” Jay said.

The ride back to his apartment was quite. Just me looking out the window. Wondering what I could’ve done to prevent this. We walked up to the apartment and went in.

“I think I’m just gonna go shower” I said. “Alright just be careful of the burn you know” Jay said. “I know” I said. “I’ll be out here if you need me” Jay said with a soft smile.

I showered and just sat on the floor of the shower crying. I heard the door open. I knew it was Jay.

“Elle I don’t wanna be weird or anything” Jay said outside the shower curtain. “I’m fine” I said standing up the peak out of the shower curtain. “You aren’t alone you know” Jay said. I turned off the shower and grabbed the towel.

“I know I’m not” I said. “I just worry about you” Jay said cupping my cheek. “I’ll be fine can I get dressed or” I said. “Yeah” Jay said leaving. I got dressed and went out into the living room. Jay was cooking something in the kitchen.

I walked over.

“Are you making dinner Halstead” I said. “Yes for once I am” Jay said. I hugged him from behind. “Thank you” I said. He turned around still holding me. “I’ll always look after you Elena” Jay said I kissed him. “I appreciate that” I said he kissed my cheek.

“Alright let’s eat something” Jay said. “It better be good or your fired” I said. “Oh trust me it is” Jay said with a smile.

#chicago fire #fanfic #jay halstead #jay halstead x reader #chicago pd #chicago fire fanfic #matt casey #jimmy borrelli #jesse spencer #jesse lee soffer #chicagopd #firehouse 51 #hank voight

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thethreeeyed-raven · 2 years

Text

Journey to love

chapter one - the call

chapter two - road trip

chapter three - gas station

chapter four - the spectacular (weird) plan

chapter five - heroes

chapter six - the ‘L’ word

pairing : Dwayne Hoover x gn!reader

warnings : swearing

word count : 698

a/n : i recommend listening to Heroes by David Bowie when it mentions the song :) also here is my dwayne hoover playlist :D

paul dano master list

wattpad version

ao3 version

After successfully getting Edwin out of the hospital and into the trunk, you and the Hoover's hit the road again.

It was silent in the van, everyone mourning for Edwin. Though you didn't know him that well, from the few hours you have spent with him and occasional meetings before, you would say that you would miss him being there.

"Dad?" Olive broke the silence.

"Yeah honey?"

"What's gonna happen to Grandpa?"

Richard didn't know how to answer her question, no one did. So he chose to just ignore it for now.

"Uncle Frank?" "Yeah?" "Do you think there's a heaven?" "That's hard to say Olive, I don't think anyone knows for sure."

You didn't want to listen to the conversation, after having it before with your parents. So you grabbed your iPod off the seat and put on a song.

Now playing...Heroes - David Bowie

Closing your eyes, you leaned your head on Dwayne's shoulder, you wanted to forget about everything and everyone, except Dwayne.

I, I wish you could swim Like the dolphins, like dolphins can swim Though nothing, nothing will keep us together We can beat them, for ever and ever Oh we can be Heroes, just for one day

Dwayne noticed you looked tired, so he let you rest on him, putting his hand on your head, patting at your hair softly.

I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can be Heroes, just for one day We can be us, just for one day

I, I can remember (I remember) Standing, by the wall (by the wall) And the guns shot above our heads (over our heads) And we kissed, as though nothing could fall (nothing could fall) And the shame was on the other side Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever Then we could be Heroes, just for one day

We can be Heroes We can be Heroes We can be Heroes, just for one day We can be Heroes

We're nothing, and nothing will help us Maybe we're lying, then you better not stay But we could be safer, just for one day

Oh-oh-oh-ohh, oh-oh-oh-ohh, Just for one day

-🌻-

A few hours had passed of driving, with you asleep on Dwayne's shoulder, and Sheryl rubbing Richard's arm in comfort.

A car had drove in front of the van, causing Richard to slam the horn in irritation.

"Woah! Hey! Son of a bitch!"

"What happened?" Frank asked in concern.

"He-He cut me off."

Dwayne's head was leant against the window, he shut his eyes in annoyance.

Richard paused, looking at the wheel in confusion. The horn wouldn't stop honking.

"It's stuck." "Okay, just leave it." "It's stuck or something."

Sheryl and Richard continued to go back and forth, waking you up. You rubbed your eyes and yawned as you lifted yourself from the teenage boy beside you.

The horn still wouldn't stop honking, which caused you to be pulled over by a police officer.

"What's going on?" You asked anyone who was listening. Dwayne just shrugged, no one knew what was going on.

"Okay, everybody just pretend to be normal, okay? Like-like everything's normal here!"

Dwayne looked back at the police officer walking towards them, then looking back and looking at Richard in irritation.

The officer walked up to the driver's window, tapping on it. "How you folks doin'?" He greeted you all politeley.

"Yeah. Yeah, yeah, we're fine, just-" He gestured to the wheel.

"Little trouble with the horn?" The officer asked.

"Sorry, what?"

"Havin' a little trouble with your horn?" The officer repeated.

"Yeah. Little trouble, sorry. Uh, sorry."

The horn continued to beep as Richard answered the officer's questions.

The officer told Richard to step out of the vehicle. He then went and opened the trunk, Richard warning him not to making you all look more suspicious.

You didn't know what the officer found in there to make Richard go and look too, you just hoped to god it wasn't Edwin's body.

The police man had let you all go. Richard walked back to the driver's seat, eyeing Frank as he passed. He told Dwayne and Frank to get out and push the van. You didn't want to leave them by themselves to do it, but they needed someone to pull them in.

#Spotify #paul dano x you #paul dano nation #paul dano x reader #paul dano #dwayne hoover x you #dwayne hoover x y/n #dwayne x reader #dwayne hoover x reader #dwayne little miss sunshine #dwayne hoover #little miss sunshine

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sallysgrancanwrite · 1 year

Text

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chloe had to figure out what she was going to do with her arm. She felt like it might be broken. She knew what to do. She got to the church and to the ladies to wait she would only be a minute. She went and paid the pastor and asked to use the restroom which was in the lower level of the church. She walked over to the long staircase and she looked around and saw no one around. She went to the top step, took a deep breath and threw herself down the staircase. She let out a scream. Now she really hurt. The pastor came running.

“What happened? She asked

“I must have stepped wrong and missed a step and flew down the stairs.” Chloe explained.

“Lay still I’ll call an ambulance.” He replied.

Chloe hoped she had not really hurt herself in order to cover up what Michael had done to her. It could ruin the wedding.

The ambulance came to a stop in front of the church. This made Edith and Beth nervous so they followed them in. Then they saw Chloe laying there.

“Oh lord Chloe, what happened? Are you alright?” Edith asked, as she knelt beside her out of the way oh the paramedics.

Chloe repeated that, “I must have missed a stair or slipped because I fell down the whole flight. I’m sure I’m fine. I didn’t hit my head.”

The paramedics were ready to put her on a gurney and transport her to the hospital. Beth and Edith would follow. When they got to the hospital Chloe had a lot of examinations and tests, MRIs, CTs, X-rays, checking for any fractures even in the head. Beth and Edith were waiting along time. Bob got to the hospital and got them some coffee..

“Has anyone told Michael?” Bob asked.

“No, I hadn’t even thought of it. I’m sorry. Bob would you call him?” She asked.

So Bob was nominated to tell the man who stared this whole thing exactly what he started. Well, y’all understand. The minute he told him he raced out the door to the hospital by then the test all came back.

Dr. Brakus came out to talk to them.

“We’ll, she’ll be fine. However she is terribly bruised inside and out. She can walk and insists on holding the wedding tomorrow so I’ll give her something for pain that won’t make her tired or loopy,” he said.

Edith asked, “May we see her?”

“Yes, I’ve told the nurse she may go home if she is allowed no activity tonight and gets sleep. Can y’all do that or should I keep her in.” He replied.

“We’ll take very good care of her,” Beth said. “She will do nothing.”

They all walked down the hall to see her and she was sitting up telling the nurse she was going home.

“Nurse, she is going home. We talked to the Dr.” Edith said. Then she looked at Chloe and said “How are you little bug?”

The nurse left to go get the discharge papers started. Everyone sat around and talked to Chloe.

“Do you know how lucky you were little lady?” Bob said.

“Yes I do in two ways. One, for not killing myself on those stairs today. And two, for having all of you in my life. My family, I couldn’t ask for better family. Thank y’all for being there for me.” Chloe said.

“Stop before we’re all bawling like babies,” Edith said, to which everyone laughed.

The nurse brought in the discharge instructions such as, no activity, lots of sleep lots of liquids, take it slow, etc. then she had Chloe sign that and then the actual discharge papers. She was now free to go home, except one thing. She gets a wheelchair escort to the door and help in the vehicle. The nurse wished her well tomorrow at her wedding. When Chloe got home she just wanted her soft bed so she gingerly walked upstairs. She used the back staircase because for whatever reason it has less stairs. However by the time she got to the top she decided she hadn’t thought it out very well. They were much steeper and harder to climb when your back and legs hurt so bad. She got to her room and wanted to take a bath so badly. She just wasn’t sure she could. At that time Beth showed up.

“Do you need any help getting into bed?” She asked

“It’s the middle of the day and I have to lay down and rest. Ugh.” Chloe groaned. “I could use help getting into the tub. It might loosen the muscles and ease the pain.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea? What if you slip?” Beth asked.

“I won’t slip. You’ll be holding me.” Chloe looked at her and smiled.

Beth helped her get undressed and walk to the tub. It was a large claw foot tub. Chloe carefully put one leg over and then the other and sat down. As the hot water ran she relaxed and felt better. Beth sat with her and they went over the checklist and they had amazingly gotten it all done . In time too.

“”What does Edith’s dress look like?” asked Chloe.

“Oh it’s beautiful and looks real nice on her. It’s a pretty grey/silverish color. It has a round neckline with saltine lace around it. And it sparkles when she moves. She’ll look great dancing. “ Beth said.

“Bob has a tux right?” Chloe asked.

“I didn’t take him? I’ll go ask Edith.“

Chloe put her head back and started to feel sleepy. She better get to bed before she falls asleep in the tub. She went to stand up and almost cried. But she somehow managed to get herself up. She held onto the tub and got her legs out and grabbed a towel. She dried off and put a nightgown on and sat on the bed. She doesn’t remember anything after that. Edith and Beth came up and found her asleep sideways on the bed and her head hanging off.

“Oh my, “said Edith, “she’s plum tuckered out. Let’s get her into bed.”

Beth covered her and shut her bedroom door. At 10:37, (because Bob checked his watch), they heard noises downstairs. Bob got his bat and as they walked out of their room they ran into Beth who heard the noise too. They decided the living room stairs didn’t squeak as much.

“Okay now, Ma, you hold the flash light. Beth stay close. They got downstairs and looked and the corner and took a few steps. Bob jumped out hollering.

“Who are you and what do you want. Be called the sheriff!” By that time the flashlight caught Chloe’s face. Beth turned on the light.

“Chloe! You scared us half to death! “ Edith said.

“We thought you were a burglar.” said Beth.

Bob laughed and said, “I almost clocked you with my bat.”

“Please call off the sheriff.” cried Chloe.

“Oh I never called ‘‘em “said Bob. “ don’t worry,” he chuckled.

#original fiction #original story #writeblr

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strangelysamantha · 3 years

Text

crashing ☆

rafe cameron x gn!reader.

warnings: reader gets injured, car crash, swearing.

words: 3,106.

summary: rafe is waiting for you to meet him at figure 8, but he’ll be waiting awhile as you got in a tragic car accident, the other vehicle being driven by his father.

request? no! requests are opened!

a/n: use of they/them pronouns. like and comment if you enjoy this story! thanks <333

my masterlist

——————————————————————————

“alright baby. of course. i love you!! yes, i’m leaving now.” rafe was on the other side of your phone, ensuring that you were ready for your dinner date. the two of you have plans to meet at the figure eight. you will eat at a nice restaurant, and then finish the date off with a scroll through the park while watching the sunset. rafe had planned the whole thing out, excited he could finally show you how much you meant to him. rafe smiled, “okay babe. i’ll see you in a few. i can't wait to see your precious face.” heat rushes to your face because of rafes words. “see you in a few.” you hang the phone up, grabbing your car keys.

you walk to your car that is sitting in your driveway. you hop in, starting your car. you put your seatbelt on, using your phone, you do a map search to the location rafe had sent you. you turn the music up slightly. you check behind you for passing cars or pedestrians, and when the coast was clear, you pulled out of your driveway, and started the drive to rafe.

you had only been driving for five minutes. you were caught at a red light. your light turned green so you pressed the gas to go. immediately a large black car t boned straight into you, hitting you head on. luckily, it had smashed into the passenger side, but the weight from the other car caused your car to shift, making you to hit your head against your steering wheel, and the car's window. the car crashed into a light pole. you were on the border between the cut and figure eight. nobody was ever there unless they were passing by. you struggled to look up, trying to see if you knew who had crashed into you.

the car that slammed into you looks vaguely familiar. you understood why when the guy who jumped out of the car was none other than ward, rafe’s father. you frowned. he rushed to your car, ready to yell at you but panicked when he saw who you were. ward immediately ran back to his car. he hopped into his car, speedily driving away.

you feel around for your phone. when you finally find it, your screen is cracked, and the screen is black. it won’t turn on. the phone must have slipped from your cup holder onto the side of the door, causing it to break. you drove your car forward so you weren’t positioned into the middle of the street. you shut your car off. your head begins to feel light headed, you close your eyes, trying to make the pain minimal. your eyes shut, and you could feel yourself slowly passing out. you try to stay awake, but the sleep engulfed you.

rafe was panicking. you were never late. well, yes you run late, but never without texting first. anytime you ran into trouble you would immediately message him and let him know. he hated this. he didn’t know what he should do. he tried to call your phone but it went straight to voicemail. he exited the restaurant, searching for either you or your car but he couldn’t find either. he frowned to himself. did you intentionally miss dinner? did he do something wrong? rafe was scared, what if you were in danger?

rafe pulled his phone out. he set his feud aside, calling pope. pope glanced at the caller id that was currently ringing his phone. he was shocked to say the least. “rafe?” pope questioned through the phone. pope didn’t want to answer but if rafe truly needed something from pope, he wouldn’t hesitate to get it from him in person. he knew it would be easier if he just answered and figured out what he needed. “pope?” rafe bombarded pope with questions about you; and your whereabouts. pope was confused. he hadn’t seen you since this morning.

“i’m sorry rafe, but i haven’t seen them since early this morning. i’m down the street from their house if you want me to knock on their door?” rafe sighed, “please. see if they are home.” pope nodded. “alright one second.” pope rushed to your front door. he knocked three times. “the car isn’t here, they seem to have left.” rafe smiled. “okay. thank you, pope. i appreciate it, man.” rafe felt relieved. “no problem.”pope hung up. you had actually left to meet him at the restaurant. but if that was true, why weren’t you at the restaurant yet?

rafe decided to stay put. he got confirmation that your car was gone. that shows you had safely left your house. if you don’t show in the next ten minutes then rafe would go looking for you.

you kept dozing in and out of consciousness. after the third time of passing out, you actually stay awake. you open your car door, stumbling out of it. your head hurt, and you felt light headed. you look around, no civilians. you yell out, but no one is around to hear. “HELLO??” you walk away from your car, just a little bit. you take in your surroundings. you walked back to your car.

you try to turn your car back on but the engine is stalled, it doesn’t even sputter again. you sink into the seat, laying your head on the head rest. you pull down the little mirror, examining your face. you hadn’t noticed, but the top right of your forehead was bleeding. It looked to have a pretty big gash. you had a bruise on your left cheek from when your head slammed against the steering wheel. you look at the time, noticing that it was ten minutes past your date with rafe. you jumped out the car, walking towards your house once more.

before you could step inside, you ran into pope. you noticed he peeked through your window. “peeping pope, why are you looking through my window?” you laugh at the added nickname. he stayed still, thinking of an explanation. “rafe called me saying you were late to something and he was worried.” he finally turned around, glancing at you. “what! what happened to your face?” he rushed towards you automatically inspecting the cut and bruises.

“i got in a car accident, ward cameron t boned into me.” you continued, “he got me good. slammed my head against the window and the steering wheel.” pope shook his head, panicked. “we have to get you to the hospital! you had two blows to your head; that's double the chance of internal bleeding.” pope helped you, carrying you inside his dad's car. he speedily drove you to the hospital, signing you in. they took you back, while pope stayed seated in the waiting room.

someone was going to have to call rafe; and it certainly wasn’t going to be pope. before going into the back room, you had handed pope your phone. he plugged it into the quick charging station to see if it was dead. sure enough, the low battery symbol turned on. the phone automatically turned on, showing the numerous mixed texts from rafe. pope ignored them, not wanting to be the one to answer them since it wasn’t his phone.

rafe decided to check your location one last time. the first few times he had checked, it said your location services were off. he didn’t know why it said that, he honestly believed it to be some glitch. rafe’s air got stuck in his throat when he saw your location had updated to being inside the outer banks hospital. he jumped in his car, not even thinking twice. he drove straight to you.

he gave himself a prep talk, telling himself to just remain calm and to see what was going on. he walked into the hospital, his eyes searching for you. he didn’t see anyone he recognized until he saw pope, with your phone situated in his hand. he walked towards pope, snatching the phone from his arm. “why do you have this?” pope shook his head, muttering under his breath. “shit.”

“come on pope. spit it out.” pope shook his head. “rafe, before you do this protective bullshit, just know i’m actually the one who saved them.” rafe stared at pope, confused. “saved them? from what? what do you mean saved them?” rafe questioned pope, “someone crashed into them while they were driving to you. they found me and i rushed them here.” rafe stared at pope. “how bad is it?”

pope shrugs. “i’m sorry, i really don’t know much. they said they were t boned, their head hit the window and the steering wheel. we drove by the car, it’s totaled. crashed into a pole.” rafe continued to stare at pope with wide eyes. “what… how long ago was this?” pope looked out the hospital windows. “a little after they left their house i’d say. it was a seven minute drive from my house to the crashed car, so i’d say five minutes.” rafe sat in the seat directly to popes left.

rafe was breathing erratically. his mind running wild with the amount of possible outcomes. the nurse walks out into the waiting room; and calls your name. rafe immediately stands up walking forward. “we believe the car crash caused them to undergo serious head trauma. no signs of internal bleeding; but we are still checking everyone in a while. you can go back and talk to them if you want.” the nurse smiles softly. rafe looks back at pope, and pope nods his head.

rafe continues, following after the nurse as she leads him to your waiting room. when he walked inside, you were peacefully sleeping. “they should be waking up soon. we truly believe that they will be okay.” rafe nodded at the nurse, watching as she left him. rafe’s hand reached up to yours, grabbing it. he scooted the chair closer to the bed. rafe quickly texted pope saying that he was okay to leave, and that he would keep pope updated.

the wait at the doctors felt like hours, but rafe stayed with you the whole time. he had sat on the chair by your bed, his hand always holding yours. the nurse comes back in. “i’m sorry sir, but visiting hours are over, usually we would allow people to stay the night but in this case they really need rest and if they wake up and you’re here; they will force themselves to talk to you.” rafe frowned, “they have a chance to wake up, and now you want me to go home?” the nurse frowns at him. “i’m sorry, but they need to sleep as much as they can, you can see them bright and early tomorrow morning at seven am.” rafe slowly lowers his head. “okay.”

he walks out of the hospital room, and to his car. he decides he will go home, get clothes prepared for you, and will try to figure out your car situation. then he would sleep, wake up, and meet you at the hospital right when visitation opens. he put his seatbelt on, driving home.

when rafe reached his house he realized that his dad's car had crashed in the front. it looked gruesome. rafe walked inside, greeting his dad. his dad nodded his head in response, walking away. rafe went straight to wheezy, his sister. he knocked on her door and went to open it. “rafe?” she questions him. he looked around. “what happened to dad's car?” he hoped wheezy knew. she tilted her head inviting him inside her room.

she began to whisper. “okay, so basically like our dad t boned someone on the outside of the cut, and he said it’s completely the other person's fault; but sarah believes that’s not true unless he didn’t actually t bone someone, and he was actually just getting brake checked on the highway. how could it not be his fault?” wheezy looked up at rafe’s face and was utterly shocked by his expression.

“rafe? why are you looking at me like that?” wheezy tilted her head to the side, confused. “our father is the reason..” rafe shakes his head, now pacing up and down the floor. you were in the hospital, because of his father. he filled wheezy in, telling her about what happened with you. she gasps in shock. “what are you going to do?” wheezy watched him, he was frantic. “i’m, i think i’m going to confront him.” wheezy half smiled, “okay. you got this! good luck!”

rafe left his sisters room and head to his fathers office. he was always scared of his father, now more than ever, but he needed answers. he knocked three times on the door, and his father opened it, to reveal himself. “hello rafe.” he walks inside, sitting on the chair in front of his desk. “dad, i know you are the reason the car is crashed; and you are the reason someone very important to me is in the hospital.” his dad stood up, straightening his back. “no. they twisted the story, now out. i won’t have you critique me in my own room.” rafe wanted to stand his ground, but he knew he should back down.

he didn’t want to waste all his energy, he still needed to prepare to see you. rafe went straight to his room, picking out a pair of his sweatpants, and a hoodie for you to change into after you get released from the hospital. he put the extra clothes including a pair of your socks into a baggy. rafe speedily changed into pajamas, and hopped into bed. hoping the morning would come faster.

rafe woke up at 6:20am. he had taken a quick shower and changed into new clothes. he grabbed your bag of clothes and hopped into his car. he drove straight to the hospital. he had arrived five minutes before visitation started.

at 7am on the dot, rafe was walking to your room. you were awake, the frown on your face caused his heart to drop. “hey baby.” you glanced up at him and softly smiled. “hey rafe.” he smiles in return. “how are you? i brought you extra clothes.” he lifted the baggy up, before setting it on the extra chair. you reach your hand out to him, and he swiftly moves closer to you. he pulls the chair up once again, sitting directly by your side. “i would have stayed here all night but i was kicked out.” you nod at his words, “sound about right.”

he smiles, his hand tracing shapes on your palm. “how are you feeling?” you wait. “i’m okay. the doctor said the worst thing i have is a concussion. they said if all the other tests come back good, then i’ll be cleared to go home.” he nods smiling, “yay! we’ll be able to take you home!” you bite your lip containing your smile, but it quickly turns sour. you frown at him.

“i’m sorry, rafe.” you look away from him, avoiding eye contact. “for what?” he questions, his heart speeding up scared at what you are about to apologize for. “for missing our date, i really wanted to go.” you frown. he cups your chin. “it’s okay, trust me. i already have it rescheduled,” he looks over at you. “so once you get better, we can go on like we originally planned.” the room went silent, the only thing being heard was the heart rate machine slowly beeping.

“rafe i love you.” he smiles. “i love you too.” you nod contentedly. the doctor walks in, “good morning. today you’ll be able to go home. you seem to only be suffering from a concussion. you’ll have to stay home and rest, don’t do too much or else you’ll be delaying the inevitable. the less time you relax, the longer you’ll be suffering.” rafe talked to the doctor as you played with the tape from the iv inside your hand.

rafe nodded. the nurse came over to you, taking the iv out, as well as the square patches that covered your chest. she left, shutting the door, allowing you to get dressed in new clothes. you frown, the medicine they gave you makes you feel slightly sluggish. “i’ll help you, don’t worry.” rafe untied the medical gown, he slipped it off. he grabbed the hoodie, placing it over your head. you slip your arms through the holes, rafe’s smell surrounding you.

you sit up in the bed, your feet over the edge. you hiss at the cold floor which hits your sock less feet, making you cold. rafe slid his sweatpants on to you. you go to stand up, but he stops you. “let’s put your socks on first, the hospital floor is cold.” you sit back down on the bed. his hand reaches for your foot, it is cool around his hand. he slid your socks on, and then the sweatpants. finally putting your shoes on. “thank you rafe.” he tied the plastic bag shut, it now filled with your old clothes. “anytime baby, i’m always here for you.” you stand up, your hand slipping into his hand, his arm stabilizing you.

the nurse walked in. “the medicine we gave you should be wearing off shortly. that’s why you seem so… out of place.” the nurse nodded, signing you out. the nurse walked you to rafes car. fear began to creep up, now nervous to be in a car again. “it’s okay, you’ll be okay.” you nod. you sit yourself in the passenger seat. rafe thanked the doctors, before running to his side of the car. he hopped in, putting his seatbelt on. he looked over to you, making sure you were okay. he drove extra careful, going straight to your house.

once you arrive at your house, the medicine wears off allowing you to be able to be yourself. you walked to your front door. rafe used his spare key to unlock the door. once inside you go straight to your room, rafe following after you. you lay down on the bed, you pat the spot by you; and rafe sat down by you. he cuddled with you. his head finding its way in your neck, his arms wrapping around your torso.

after a few minutes of silence you spoke up. “your dad is the one that hit me. he ran through a red light.” rafe frowned against your neck, whispering. “i know.” you nod, your hand running through his hair. “okay.” you smile softly, closing your eyes. falling asleep with rafe by your side.

<33

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opie-taylor · 2 years

Text

faith

I am in the “stop hurting TK start hurting Carlos” era of my 911 Lone Star fandom so here have this.

Technically, Carlos was still on his lunch break. He was only walking down this street to get back to his cruiser, which he’d had to park a few blocks down from the sandwich shop.

But there it was, a shiny new Tesla parked right in front of a fire hydrant.

Carlos had just placed the ticket under the wipers when a clearly irate man stomped towards him.

“What the hell? Are you giving me a ticket?”

“Sir, you’re parked illegally. You need to move your car, immediately.” Carlos stepped back from the car.

“I can park wherever I want. This is an electric vehicle.” The man huffed.

“And the planet thanks you, but you still can’t park in front of fire hydrants.”

“It’s not a red zone though, the curb isn’t painted.”

“That doesn’t matter in this scenario, sir. Please move your car, and you can pay that ticket online. Have a nice day.” Carlos crossed to the other side of the street, the man’s string of curses echoing behind him.

Carlos walked down to the intersection, his cruiser a few feet down the cross-street. A woman sitting in an Adirondack in her front yard waved at him.

“Afternoon, officer.”

“Ma’am.” Carlos mimed tipping a cowboy hat, before stepping into the intersection.

The last thing he saw was that same Tesla, speeding towards him

——

“911, whats your emergency?”

“Someone just ran over a cop! I think he’s dead!”

——

When the EMT crew of the 126 arrived on scene the place was already swarming with squad cars.

TK hopped out of the back of the ambulance, and was met immediately by Officer DeAngelo, one of the cops from Carlos’ precinct. They had had a few, brief interactions at med scenes before, and one awkward conversation at the precinct when TK had shown up to surprise Carlos.

“Hey, um, TK maybe you should sit down.” DeAngelo placed a hand on TK’s shoulder.

“What? Why would I sit down, I’m responding to this call.”

“You don’t know.” DeAngelo’s jaw dropped.

TK furrowed his brow, looking past her towards the gaggle of cops standing around the scene. The cops all from Carlos’ precincts.

All the cops from that precinct except for Carlos.

The realization hits TK like a punch to the gut. He suddenly can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move.

“TK!” Nancy calls out, and TK can see her and Tommy kneeling down over a body.

Carlos’ body.

He backs away, eyes wide, right into the ambulance. He’s hyperventilating, his entire body shaking.

“TK, the gurney! Now!” Tommy yells. But TK can barely hear her, his ears ringing with the sound of his own heartbeat.

“TK, he’s still alive but we need to get him to a hospital, and we can’t do that unless you bring the gurney!” Tommy calls out.

Still alive.

Those words mean everything. Those words are his lifeline.

TK moves on muscle memory alone, the next several minutes a blur until suddenly he’s at the hospital, sitting in an uncomfortable chair, Nancy gripping his hand as Tommy talks to the attending nurse.

And that’s when everything hits him, all at once.

TK doubles over, a heaving sob forced out of his body like a bullet out of a gun, his gasps of breath ragged.

——

Gabriel and Andrea arrive together, panic stricken, and beeline right for TK.

Nancy and Tommy had had to leave, to return the rig and call in B-squad to take over. Neither had wanted to leave TK alone, but there was no way he was leaving that hospital until he could see Carlos.

“Ay, TK.” Andrea wrapped her arms around him as she sat down

“Have they told you anything at all?” Gabriel sat on the other side of his wife, looking ahead towards the doors separating the waiting area from the rest of the hospital.

“Nothing yet, sir.” TK admitted, hugging Andrea back. She squeezed him tight, before sitting back and taking her rosary out from her purse.

“Carlos is a fighter.” Gabriel said, more to himself than to anyone.

Andrea began to pray.

Dios te salve, María.

Llena eres de gracia.

——

The entire 126, plus Grace, baby Charlie, and Izzy and Evie arrive, taking up residence amongst the available chairs in the waiting area.

Owen sits next to TK, who turns and hugs his father tight.

“Still no news.” Gabriel says, again to no one in particular and mostly to himself. Andrea crosses herself, still muttering prayers.

“No news is good news in this case.” Tommy reached over to take Gabriel’s hand. “That means it hasn’t gotten worse.”

“But it also hasn’t gotten better.” Gabriel looks away from the doors for the first time since he sat down, locking eyes with Tommy.

“It will. You have to have faith.” Grace, who is sitting between Tommy and Judd takes Gabriel’s other hand, transferring Charlie to be cradled in one arm. “The Lord is with him.”

“Amen.” Tommy squeezes Gabriel’s hand.

“Amen.” Grace does so as well, letting go to hold Charlie better.

“Amen.” Gabriel whispers, looking back to the doors.

“Amen.” Andrea says, finishing up her prayer before launching into another.

“Amen.” TK says, looking up at the ceiling.

He’d let his own faith lapse a bit, basically only barely acknowledging the holy days. He hadn’t really ever been that observant, only going to temple to please his mom.

But Carlos, equally lapsed Catholic Carlos, was worth remembering the words he’d learned in Hebrew school.

Baruch ata Adonai,

Eloheinu melekh ha-olam,

ha-gomel l’chayavim tovot

she-g’malani kol tov.

——

It was nearing midnight. Grace had gone home with Charlie, and Tommy had taken the girls home a few hours ago.

Mateo passes out coffees, while Marjan grabs snacks from the vending machine.

Andrea rests on Gabriel’s shoulder, still holding her rosary.

TK stretches and stands, sipping his coffee. What Tommy had said about no news was true, he knew it was true, but it had been hours now.

It had been too long with no word at all.

It’s Paul who meets him, placing a steady hand on TK’s back and guiding him over to an isolated corner of the room.

“Breathe, man. Deep breaths. Okay.” Paul demonstrates with deep breaths of his own. TK squeezes his eyes shut as the tears begin to fall again.

——

The sun is just cresting over the horizon when a woman in bloodied scrubs steps out of the doors.

“Reyes?”

They all stand at once, Andrea grasping TK’s hand like a vice.

“I’m his father.” Gabriel says, pulling Andrea with him towards the doctor, who in turn pulls TK forward as well.

“Most of his extremities are broken. He had severe trauma to the spleen and we had to remove it. His ribs are bruised, but thankfully not broken. He needed an emergency transfusion, but his heart rate is normal now.”

“Can we see him?” Andrea asks, shaking.

“In a moment, yes. But you need to know, we had to put him into a medically induced coma. Waking up now, with that much trauma to his arms and legs… it’s better to have him sleep on a light morphine drip than to have him awake on a heavy one.”

Andrea gasps. Gabriel nods, visibly shaken.

TK swallows back another breakdown. He knows doctors put people into medically induced comas for a variety of reasons. And, all things considered, Carlos’ injuries weren’t nearly as bad as TK had feared.

Still.

They end up in Carlos’ room a few minutes later. Andrea and Gabriel take up residence on one side, letting TK sit on the other.

If TK didn’t know better, he’d think Carlos was just sleeping. There aren’t breathing tubes, like the ones TK had needed after the ice, just a cannula and a few wires monitoring his heart rate. An IV connects to a slow-drip bag of morphine. Carlos’ arms and legs are all in casts.

“Mijito. Carlitos. Estamos contigo.” Andrea whispers, placing a feather-light kiss in her son’s cheek.

“Hi, baby.” TK whispers, placing his own kiss onto Carlos’ other cheek.

——

Hospital chairs are the most uncomfortable to sleep in, but TK won’t leave Carlos’ side unless he’s forced out. Andrea and Gabriel haven’t left either, all three keeping vigil in the room.

Andrea has gone back to praying, while Gabriel sits in silence again next to her.

TK alternates between just being there in silence with Carlos and the Reyeses, and talking to Carlos. One-sided conversations about nothing in particular aren’t necessarily the best way to pass the time, but Andrea and Gabriel don’t seem to mind, and it keeps TK from worrying.

Owen had brought by a change of clothes and actual food earlier, but had to leave for his shift at the firehouse. Grace had also stopped by with the girls, who had brought flowers and cards for Carlos.

The rest of the 126 filter in and out over the next few days, sharing stories about Carlos, and bringing flowers and balloons and cards.

——

The doctor had spoken with them a few days ago.

“It’s good news. He should wake up within the next few days. Everything is trending upward, and his recovery from the surgery is right on track.”

“Gracias a Dios.” Andrea crossed herself.

“And then what?” TK asked.

“We’ll need to keep him here for at least another couple days, but then he can finish out his recovery at home. He’ll need someone with him to help with daily activities until the casts come off over the next few months.”

“We live together, and I’m a trained EMT. I can take care of him.” TK assured the doctor.

“We recommend a home care nurse, sir. It’s a 24 hour task until the casts come off.” The doctor passed over a pamphlet. “These are the ones insurance will cover.”

“Thank you.” TK muttered.

And now, here they still were, three days later, and Carlos had yet to stir.

“Hi, baby. It’s me.” TK whispered. “The doctor says you should wake up anytime. So, I don’t want to rush you, but it’d be really great if you could wake up now. Please.”

Nothing. Just the steady rise and fall of Carlos’ chest, and the steady beep of the machines next to him.

“I love you, Carlos. Please wake up.”

There’s a twitch.

“Carlos?”

Another twitch.

“Baby?”

Andrea and Gabriel are now also talking to Carlos.

“Mijo. We’re right here.” Andrea whispers.

“Wake up, son.” Gabriel took Andrea’s hand.

And Carlos opens his eyes.

“Mamí?” Carlos’ voice is hoarse, his eyes squinting in the light.

“I’m right here, Carlitos.” Andrea leans towards her son.

“Carlos?” TK says, barely above a whisper.

“Hi, baby.” Carlos smiles. TK doesn’t bother to stop the tears this time.

“Hi, baby.” TK responds, leaning over to kiss Carlos’ temple, reciting another quick prayer in his head before leaning back.

Baruch ata Adonai,

Eloheinu melech ha-olam,

ha-gomel l’chayavim

tovot she-g’malani kol tov.

——

#911 lonestar #911 lone star #911 ls fic #tarlos #tk x carlos #tk strand #carlos reyes #andrea reyes #gabriel reyes #911 lonestar fic #911 lone star fic #my fic #I pulled the prayers off of Google so if they are incorrect in any way I apologize

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arvinsescape · 3 years

Text

I hope you’re waiting for me.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy, this is a sad one but I hope you all enjoy 💕

Summary: Mob!Tom doesn’t know what he’d do without you and unfortunately he has to find a way to live without you.

Warnings: Death, swearing, just pure heartbreak.

W/C: 2.1K

The event was beautiful, much different to the events you’d attended before, Tom had his arm around your waist as he kissed at your cheek. He was so smitten with you, the wedding ring he’d gotten you was shining in under the fluorescent lights, everyone had commented on how beautiful it was. He loved you with everything he had, you’d been married just short of a month, and this was the first event you’d attended.

You became used to the looks of jealousy thrown your way by this point. Most women wondered how you had done it, how had you gotten the Mob boss so wrapped around your finger that he proposed. Women had tried so hard to gain his attention, but none ever succeeded, he wasn’t interested and by now they’d all gotten the message, he looked at you like you were the only important person in the room.

“I wanna take you into that bathroom and fuck you right now.” Tom groaned into your ear, the white knee length dress you had on was driving him wild. He’d already had it around your waist once today, your legs still slightly shaky from the encounter and you doubted it wouldn’t be the last.

“Calm down.” You hummed as he trailed his hand down your back and squeezed your behind.

“You look so good though.” Tom smiled as he kissed your cheek.

“Mr and Mrs Holland.” You heard a voice say and your stomach dropped. This was one man you hated, he was your typical mob leader, greasy, sexist, everything you hated in a man. “How was the honeymoon, I expect we’ll be expecting a young Holland to join the mix now.” He said and your hand instinctively fell to your stomach. You weren’t pregnant but you were trying.

“It was lovely, thank you.” Tom said, he knew how to keep the peace where you didn’t know what to say.

“Brilliant, well I hope to see you soon.” He said as he walked away, you instantly relaxed.

“I hate him.” You whispered into Tom’s ear, getting on your tiptoes to rest your head on his shoulder as Tom laughed.

“You hate most people in this room.” He teased back. “Makes me wonder how I ever got you to fall in love with me.”

“You have your advantages.” You teased him.

You both watched as a man approached, you didn’t recognize him, and Tom didn’t seem to either.

“To the happy couple.” He said with a smile that set you on edge, you instinctively moved further into Tom’s side. He raised his glass at the two of you and you heard a gun shot resonate through the room, everyone stopped what they were doing. A scream rang out through the room, and you felt as people started to move towards the exit as people burst through the doors around you.

You felt out of place, a pain in your stomach spreading like wildfire. Your hand clutched at it and as you lifted it you saw the blood coating it. It was surreal, how you hadn’t noticed the pain until this point, you hadn’t felt the pain until it ripped through you all of a sudden.

“Tom?” You said weakly but he didn’t hear you as he moved you out of the way, grasping your hand that wasn’t covered in blood and rushing you both through a door and into a corridor.

“Tom, boss- “Harrison joined the two of you and stopped in his tracks. “Y/N/N?” He said quietly as he took in your appearance, Tom turning his attention to his wife, and he felt his heart stop. Your face was pale, blood seeping through your wound. That shot was meant for you and it turned his blood cold, how had he missed it.

“Baby?” Tom said slowly as you looked at him, fear evident in your eyes. Another gunshot rang through the corridor, and you didn’t even have the energy to react, you understood now, you were the target.

“Tom, we need to move.” Harrison spoke as he fired a shot off that hit the guy straight in the head.

Tom picked you up bridal style as you clutched onto your wound, the amount of blood leaving your system made your head feel dizzy as Tom and Harrison moved themselves quickly through the corridors, they were saying things to each other, but you didn’t catch any of it. Harrison had to take charge of this one, Tom wasn’t focused, he was too wrapped up in what was happening to you.

You didn’t look good, and Harrison’s stomach dropped, he knew there was a small chance you’d survive this, the possibility of you seeing tomorrow was not likely. Tom looked lost, mindlessly following his friend through the corridors. Harrison killed god knows how many people, relief flooding his system as he saw the car.

“Baby?” Tom coaxed you back into consciousness. “Hey, I need you to stay with me okay?” He said. “I’m going to get you to a doctor.” He spoke as he removed his jacket. Somehow you’d ended up in the back of his van, you were led across the seats, Tom awkwardly in the footwell. “Princess, you’re going to make it through this okay?” He said as he pressed the jacket to your wound. Your blood covering everything in its path.

“Tom,” you said, and it was so weak that Tom’s heart stopped. He clung onto the tiny amount of hop that his wife was going to be okay. He couldn’t think about losing you, not now, not ever.

“Baby, shh,” he said as he used his free hand to smooth your hair. “Don’t talk, just focus on me and stay with me.” He said, tears streaming down his face, no one had ever seen the man cry, and no one dare comment on it, the people in the car turning their attention elsewhere.

“Tom, I love you.” You said, you knew the wound was fatal now. You knew that this was how you were going to die, you felt so weak that you didn’t really care. You found comfort in having Tom here, he was with you, it’d be okay. “It’s okay.” You whispered as you felt your eyes drift closed.

“Y/N/N, no, no, come on princess, just stay awake, please for me.” He spoke, voice cracking.

“I’m tired.” You mumbled. “I love you.” You said again, you felt like your life was slipping from you, felt your heart beat slow.

“I love you so much princess, so so much.” He said as he put his forehead to yours. “I need you to hold on, we’re almost there and then the doctors going to fix you and we’ll be okay. You can’t die, not you Y/N/N. I can’t lose you.” Tom spoke but it fell on deaf ears, you’d gone.

Tom’s face completely paled as he sat there in shock, your chest no longer rising and falling. He panicked as he shook you.

“No, no, no. Y/N/N, wake up. Come on baby, wake up for me.” He said both hands falling above your chest as he attempted to bring you back.

Harrison couldn’t stop the tears as he pulled up outside the hospital. He hadn’t made it in time, you were gone, that sliver of hope crushed. He wanted to apologise to his friend, wanted to tell him how sorry he was.

“Tom, stop.” Haz said as he grabbed Tom from his awkward position and pulled him out of the car. “Tom, she’s gone.” Haz cried as Tom tried to rip himself from his grasp and get back to you. “Tom!” Harrison shouted, gaining the males attention, he watched as Tom collapsed onto the ground.

“It’s all my fault.” He whispered and Harrison’s heart broke.

“No Tom, it’s not.” Harrison motioned for one of the other men to get someone’s attention, your body needed removing from the back of the vehicle. Haz was glad they had it in with the chief of police, knowing that nothing would come of this. “It’s not your fault.”

“It fucking is. If I wasn’t who I am and I didn’t pursue her, she’d be alive.”

“She loved you Tom. Do you honestly think she didn’t know this would be a possibility? Tom she took the risk because she loved you.”

“And she was killed because of me!”

The funeral was hard, Tom had attended but as soon as it was over he’d left. Harrison had taken over the mob for now, Tom was unfit. Harrison found out who it was that had ordered the murder and kept it to himself, he couldn’t watch Tom fall further into the hole he was already in. Tom had taken it upon himself to almost lock himself in his bedroom.

It was two months after the funeral and Tom still hadn’t gotten rid of your stuff, nor had he gotten rid of the photos of the two of you. Harrison was trying to pull his friend from the darkness that consumed him, but nothing was working, he was lost without you. He’d come back a week ago, he was colder, much more than he’d used to be. He became unfair, almost unrealistic in his expectations of the men around him.

“Tom?” Harrison popped his head around his office door. Harrison stopped in his tracks, not prepared for the scene before him. “Mate?”

Tom was crying as he looked at the wedding ring that had sat on your finger, not noticing Harrison’s presence. He placed the ring down as he pulled one of your favourite hoodies from under his desk before stuffing his face into it as he started to cry uncontrollably.

“Tom?” Harrison panicked as he ran to his friend.

“It still smells like her.” He replied weakly, not removing his face and Harrison understood now why he hadn’t thrown your things out. “I want her back. I can’t do this without her.”

“Tom,” Harrison sighed. “She’d want you to move on. She loved you so much and she wouldn’t want you to be like this.”

“How do you know? How do any of us know what she’d want? She’s not here. She’s never coming back, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want anyone else, the thought of another woman. Harrison I can’t. I love her more than you can possibly understand.” He cried into your hoody again.

It had taken a few years, but Tom was back to how he had been before he met you, he had a few one night stands here and there, they all had the same thing in common, they all looked like you had but none of them ever stayed, he wouldn’t do that. He always said that no other woman would ever be able to claim that place, it was always yours.

He wore your wedding ring on a chain around his neck, he never parted with it, never removed his own, it sat on his finger like it had since the day you’d put it there. No other woman was ever allowed into his bed, not in your place. He’s learned to deal with it in his own way and Harrison was glad he could have a laugh with his best friend again.

“Where’s Tom?” A man asked as they entered the meeting room, Tom wasn’t in his usual spot, Harrison filled it.

“It’s their anniversary.” Harrison said quietly.

There were 3 days and nights a year where Tom didn’t work; your birthday, your wedding anniversary and the date you died. He made his way to the small plot on the land of his estate, it was yours, you’d always found it peaceful in that corner of the garden and it stayed yours, the only gardener who was allowed to touch it was the one who knew exactly how you liked it.

“Hi baby.” Tom spoke as he laid the flowers on your gravestone. “I hope you’ve had a good day up there. I just know you’re the prettiest angel they have up there, you were down here.” He spoke as he wiped a tear from his cheek.

“I love you. I hope you’re waiting for me. I know I’m waiting for you.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #mob!tom #mob!tom x reader

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dwaynepride · 3 years

Text

just like we were kids

pairing: young!gibbs x reader, young!ducky + reader

summary: 5 times gibbs kisses you and 1 time ducky kisses you.

warnings: reader is kidnapped, mentions of rope burns

words: 4,196

a/n: very loosely based off the 400th episode but not strictly

It’s been a very long day.

Gibbs sat next to a crying baby on the bus riding into DC, the hotel receptionist gave him a hard time when he tried to check in, and he was forced into the trunk of a car with a gun pointed to his head.

“He forced you, Marine?”

Gibbs withheld an annoyed sigh; only because this agent was pretty alright. “There were civilians around. Didn’t want to risk it.”

“Noble,” the agent responds. “But a gamble.”

Yeah. A gamble that only sorta paid off because Gibbs knows you’ll give him an earful just as soon as you get here.

“If it wasn’t for that idiot driving on the wrong side of the road, you might be the one in our morgue.”

God, Gibbs hopes he doesn’t say that when you’re around.

In the distance, he hears the elevator ding. And the agent motions toward it. “Now, you got a chance to say thank you. Looks like he’s back from the hospital to give his statement.”

Gibbs turns, spotting the man in a bowtie with his arm in a sling and talking the ear off of the women who brought him up here. The Scotsman was ranting off about American driving habits, no doubt blaming it all on why he crashed. Hearing it makes Gibbs smirk.

“Mr. Mallard,” the agent greets.

“Actually, Dr. Mallard. Well, former doctor,” he corrects.

Without any hesitation. Jethro likes him already. “Sergeant Gibbs. Former trunk.”

That’s when Dr. Mallard finally looks to him, paying little attention to the scrapes on his face. “Ah,” he replies. Gibbs can’t help to notice he looks just a little amused.

“I owe you a drink,” Jethro says.

“Well, that depends,” Mallard intercedes immediately. “How do you feel about scotch?”

“I’d feel better about bourbon.”

“Sold.”

Smiling, Gibbs reaches forward to shake the other man’s hand. They reflect each other’s expression - Dr. Mallard pleased for a free drink, and Gibbs just happy to be out of that trunk. “It’s the least I could do, considering your car was probably totaled-”

“Jethro!”

Oh no. Gibbs and his rotten luck was about to rub off on you.

He hadn’t even prepared anything to say. Hadn’t thought of a special way to ease your worries because Gibbs has been too caught up with the NIS agent and giving his statement. So when he looks over Mallard’s shoulder, watching as you march up to him with wide eyes, Gibbs visibly winces. “Hey. First of all, I’m okay. Second-”

“How could you possibly be okay?” Your eyes were immediately focused on the red scrape on his forehead - right now, he figures you’re expecting the worst. “This is serious, Jethro. How do you think I would’ve felt if I got a call saying you were dead? I know you like to think you’re big and bad, but-”

“Have you met Dr. Mallard?” Gibbs immediately turns your attention to the Scotsman in the bowtie, who immediately greets you with a tight smile once you face him. “He’s the one who saved me. Kind of.”

“Only by sheer stupidity, believe me.” Mallard reaches out a hand, and after a moment, you take his. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You let out a tiny sigh, seeming to Gibbs like you were winding down, now that you’re sure he was okay. “Thank you, Doctor. As you can tell,” you snap your eyes to Jethro, “he gets himself into trouble, a lot.”

Gibbs says nothing, now that the eyes of four different people are on him. He shifts his weight awkwardly, reaching out to grip your arm and pull you closer. And to really suck up to you, he leans over to press a kiss against your temple - he hopes that’ll be enough of an ‘I’m sorry’ for now. “Well, the Doctor’s gotta give his statement so I think we outta let him,” Gibbs says, hoping to turn the attention off of himself.

“Yes, of course,” Dr. Mallard agrees. Gibbs is grateful - up until Mallard faces you again with a smile. “Though, you should most definitely join us for a drink. It’ll be on his tab, and you’ll be there to keep him out of trouble.”

For a moment, Gibbs feels almost defensive. He’s about to speak up, but before he can say anything, he sees you nod your head. Even worse, you’re smiling. As if agreeing with Mallard that Jethro needs watching over.

Though, you’re smiling now. Maybe it’s not so bad.

It’s late. And the coffee doesn’t seem to be working anymore.

Gibbs had training for staying up all night. There’s been times when he’d gone three days with only a couple hours of sleep. But even that would’ve been preferable to sitting at a table, staring at files and papers, and listening to Dr. Mallard’s mumbling.

“It doesn’t make any sense...we’ve got to be missing something...”

Yeah. No kidding.

Gibbs rubs his eyes with a long sigh. He’s tempted to just call it a night and try again in the morning when he and Mallard are rested up. But Jethro stays - much too stubborn to walk away, even if it’s past midnight.

He has his chin propped up on his hand, fighting the alluring close of his eyes, by the time Jethro hears the front door close and your footsteps against the wood floor. “You guys are still awake?”

“Yeah,” Gibbs mumbles.

“We’re nearly finished,” Dr. Mallard says - he’s slightly more awake, but not by much.

“Right,” you reply. Jethro recognizes the disbelief in your voice. It’s the same tone you use with him a lot. “Well, are you two hungry?”

Coffee is the only sustenance he’s had all night. At the mention of food, Jethro looks over. And a grease-stained paper bag has never looked so amazing. “Is that…”

“Just some burgers from a diner. Not many places are open this late, so it was a bit of a drive.” You approach with the food, and Jethro stands to take the bag from your hands. And you’re smiling at him - looking tired, but still so sweet and soft and it immediately relieves the ache of exhaustion from Gibbs.

You drove all around town to bring him and Mallard some food. He didn’t deserve you.

“You didn’t have to,” Jethro says. Though, he handles the burgers like an injured puppy. “We got stuff here…”

“Don’t be ridiculous, man.” Dr. Mallard stands as well, taking the bag from Jethro and opening it up to retrieve his burger. “It’s not right to downplay the generosity of your partner. Try thanking her.”

Gibbs narrows his eyes at the other man, but his hunger wears down his stubbornness. The burgers smell fucking amazing, and Dr. Mallard is right.

He looks back to you, steps in closer, and leans down to press a kiss to your cheek. Your skin is cold from the night air - Gibbs feels bad that you went through the trouble. “Thanks. We appreciate it,” he says lowly. If Mallard weren’t here, Gibbs might’ve dragged you to bed. Warmed you up and thanked you in his own favorite way.

He notices your flush. Maybe you picked up on his own personal thoughts, somehow.

So Gibbs looks away, reaching out to retrieve his own burger before the doctor notices anything. And you clear your throat, smiling at the both of them while backing up. “Well, enjoy the food. I think I’m gonna go get some sleep. Try not to stay up all night, you two!”

A smirk comes over Jethro’s lips as he falls back down into his chair, and he doesn’t notice Mallard watching him until Gibbs is just about to take a big bite out of his burger. His teeth are on the bun when his eyes flicker up. “Wha’?” He asks hotly.

Dr. Mallard simply shakes his head, taking his seat and moving his files aside to make room for the burger you brought him. “Nothing. It’s just that...she’s a keeper.”

Jethro didn’t need some Scot to tell him that.

“Keep looking out here! I’ll check inside!”

Jethro didn’t bother yelling out an acknowledgement. He took off in the other direction, letting Dr. Mallard make his way into the dark, silent building by himself. Maybe if his heart weren’t pounding so fast or if he weren’t so fucking angry and scared and worried, Gibbs would be smart and think about Mallard’s safety.

After all, if these scumbags had the balls to take you, what’s to stop them from killing him?

Jethro doesn’t think about that, right now. His shoes pound against the pavement, swinging his flashlight around wildly. The parking lot is empty and pitch black - the shine of the flashlight barely does anything to cut through the darkness. He tries to stem his breathing and silence his heartbeat; just in case you’re crying out for him.

He hears nothing. The taunting hoot of an owl, but that’s it.

This is his fault, of course. Everything is his fault. Maybe if he just left the case alone and let those agents deal with it, you wouldn’t be missing and he wouldn’t be running around trying to find you. Dr. Mallard tried calming him down and reminding him that they’re trying to get these bastards off the streets for this very reason.

Doesn’t seem worth it, though. Not when it comes to you.

Jethro takes a few more steps, panting hard, still straining his eyes against the blackness. His grip on the flashlight is so tight, his fingers start to hurt. Maybe you’re not even here. Maybe they got it wrong. Maybe they missed something-

There. On the far end of the parking lot. Something reflects the light of his flashlight, and it’s too big to be anything but a vehicle.

Immediately, Gibbs takes off again. His shoes barely hit the concrete with how fast he’s running, and when he finally reaches the car, he shines the light inside. Finding empty seats, Jethro’s stomach drops.

That is, until his eyes find the trunk.

Jethro calls your name as he comes around to the hitch. His breath is stuck in his lungs, and he barely even registers the light tapping from inside the trunk before he yanks it up.

You flinch at the sudden bright light. Hands coming up to shield your face, balling yourself up tighter. Gibbs immediately notices little red lines around your wrists. Notices the little tears and scuffs on your clothes. He shakes with something mixed with rage and relief.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay,” Jethro breathes out. He tucks the flashlight under his arm to reach out for you. His hand on your arm seems to calm you - it lets you know that you’re safe and he’s got you and everything is okay now. You peek out from behind your eyes, cheeks wet from tears but they’re not wet enough to loosen the tape strapped to your mouth.

Jethro reaches out instantly to pull it off. He’s slow, gentle, and as soon as your lips are visible, you suck in a deep breath. “Jethro…”

“I’m here. You’re okay now.”

He tries his best to hide the tremor of his hands as Gibbs takes his knife out and cuts the rope off your wrists and ankles. These bastards really went all the way - taking you and terrorizing you just to get to him and Mallard. He’d make sure they paid.

As soon as you’re freed, your arms are wrapped tight around his shoulders, face pushed against his chest and sniffling. The flashlight is obscured, but Jethro doesn’t need to see the harsh tears staining your cheeks. It’s bad enough to hear your little whimpers of his name, and the most he can do is hug you back and murmur out comforting words.

Eventually, you pull away. Still leaning on him, not even pulling yourself out of the trunk yet, but wanting to see his face. “It happened so fast,” you tell him, voice small. Jethro frowns as he fits his hand against your cheek - there’s a bruise there that concerns him. “And they were saying how you and Dr. Mallard were getting so close, and I was insurance, and I didn’t know if you’d find me, and-”

“Hey, I’ll always find you, okay?” His thumb caresses over your cheek, mindful of the purple bump there. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. You shouldn’t have gotten caught up in this. I should’ve protected you better.”

Your eyes are wide and frightened, but the way your eyebrows quirk together slightly tells him that you probably had something to say. Probably to negate what he’s said because he knows you don’t like when he says things like that. Blaming himself for things he can’t control.

Instead, Jethro leans in to desperately press his lips against yours. The kiss tastes like salty tears and a hint of blood but you hold onto his jacket so tight that he doesn’t even think about if the kiss might hurt.

He was worried. You were scared. He just wants to kiss you.

And even the sound of Dr. Mallard calling his name from across the parking lot isn’t enough to break it.

“She’s fine, right? That’s what the doctors said?”

“That’s what I said,” Mallard tells him, voice tight. But there’s an empathetic look that helps calm Gibbs down a bit. “I assure you, I wouldn’t lie about her condition. I checked her over myself - the worst of it is only the rope burns on her wrists.”

Gibbs breathes a little easier. It’s been a wild couple days and it feels like the first deep breath he’s taken since.

“I assume you’d want to see her.”

Jethro nods his head once, brow furrowing together. He’d done enough waiting.

Dr. Mallard smirks before he turns and walks with Gibbs down to your room. He knows it’ll be hard, seeing you laid up in the white hospital sheets. It was hard enough pulling you from the trunk of the car and sitting with you until the ambulance came. Hard enough having to put you on the back burner to finish what he and Mallard started. The guilt was still there, of course. He knows you don’t blame him, but it’s not enough.

Gibbs feels a nudge against his arm, and he looks over to find Dr. Mallard watching him. “You should be happy,” he points out.

“I am.”

“I hope you’ll be a better liar once we get in there.” Gibbs scoffs and looks away, but the doctor isn’t done. “You’re fortunate it wasn’t any worse. With the men we were dealing with-”

“Yeah, I know, doc. They coulda killed her, or worse. And it would’ve been my fault because I wasn’t smart enough to think ahead and protect her.” Jethro turns back to Mallard, and he doesn’t bother to hide his scowl. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes. It is,” he replies boldly. Fucking of course. Gibbs is tempted to walk off before Mallard's gaze turns more sympathetic. “But that’s not what she wants to hear. So better to get it all out right now so you can’t dump all those guilty feelings on someone who’s already been through enough.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way.

Jethro’s eyes drop. Mallard was right, of course. It pissed him off to admit it, but Gibbs probably would’ve gone in there and apologized for something you didn’t really want to relive. Another case of him not thinking.

Dr. Mallard pats him on the shoulder. When Gibbs looks up, he motions to your room with his head. “Well, let’s get a move on. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”

And Jethro will be glad to see you, too.

He wastes no time reaching your door, and he carefully opens it but can’t help poking his head in just as soon as he can. Gibbs doesn’t quite know what to expect, and even with Mallard peeking in from over his shoulder, he feels like he should be walking on his toes.

But the image of you sitting up in bed with a smile proves him wrong.

“Hey! You’re here!”

Jethro doesn’t reply. He just smirks and revels in his relief that you’re actually okay.

“Of course, we are!” Mallard replies, moving past Gibbs to approach your bedside. “We wanted to tell our partner about the outcome of our little investigation, didn’t we, Gibbs?”

Jethro’s eyes move away from your bruised face, glancing to the doctor before nodding once. “Yeah. Bastards got caught trying to leave the state. They got ‘em at the border,” he tells you. Though, he can’t keep his eyes from wandering. Your arms, once so soft, are marred with bandages and bruises. Jethro reminds himself to breathe.

“But obviously, we were also worried about you,” Dr. Mallard adds on. His tone is softer, this time. And as Gibbs moves past him to take the seat by your bed, he continues. “You’ve got nothing to fear. They can’t ever hurt you again.”

Jethro reaches out to take your hand, and you squeeze his right back. Dammit, Mallard was so good with that heart-to-heart stuff. It never really occurred to Gibbs to put your mind at ease, like he had. He’d just been so angry and guilty and worried - well, it goes to show how much more you deserve than him.

“Yeah, I know.” Your voice is light. A little hoarse. The sound of it makes Jethro tighten his grip.

“He’s right,” Gibbs speaks up. And when you turn to look at him, he makes sure his face is hard and determined. Not as shaky as he feels. “I’m never gonna let something like that happen again. I promise.”

“Yeah,” you respond. “I know.”

Your smile grows. Just a little, because of the bruises. But it prompts one on Jethro’s face, and as his chest gets a bit tight, he softly lifts your hand up. The bandages cover up the ugly rope burns around both your wrists - they’ll go away in a few weeks. Still, he places a soft kiss on top the bandage. Just to help you heal a little faster.

If it were up to Gibbs, he would’ve taken you right home and let you rest. And personally, after all the bullshit, he really just wanted a quiet night with you and a couple glasses of bourbon. And no Dr. Mallard.

Things never usually go as planned for him. A night at the bar is in order to celebrate.

Though, Jethro can’t complain much. You’re seated on his lap, and he’s free to wrap his arms around your waist and tug you close and glare at anyone giving you a second look. Call him protective, but he’s just being safe.

And he let you and Mallard chat away about the case. Mostly about how the NIS agents took all the credit for bringing them in.

“It’s unfair,” you say crossly, glancing back at Jethro before looking to the doctor again. “Do they know how much danger you guys put yourselves in? Or what I went through? And they get the credit?”

Jethro’s grip on your waist tightens. He smirks when he feels your hand settle on his arm.

“It’s not really about the credit,” Mallard replies, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. “For me, I’m just happy those bastards won’t be out terrorizing any more innocent people. I looked into some of their victims - poor unfortunate souls who wouldn’t have been missed by anybody. No friends. No family. It’s a real shame.”

The table grows quiet, even as the bar ambience around them is still as loud as ever. You end up leaning back against Jethro; likely needing his comfort.

And he readily gives it. Because you so easily could’ve been one of those victims. Not unknown without friends or family, like the others. But still gone. Still ripped from Jethro’s arms.

“Would’ve missed you,” he finds himself mumbling.

Gibbs didn’t intend for you to hear. He was counting on Dr. Mallard keeping your attention. But it seems like the music and the chatter wasn’t enough to keep his mindless words from your ears. Because as soon as he presses a light kiss against the ball of your shoulder, you’re twisting your head around to smile at him.

His eyes immediately dart away, because he knows the kind of smile you’re wearing.

“Have a little too much to drink, Jethro? You’re getting all affectionate.”

“Yes,” Mallard speaks up, happy to change the subject. “I think he’s gone on to his third glass of scotch!”

It’s one o’clock in the morning. Gibbs kept checking the time.

He wouldn’t say anything about it, though. Not when you were having fun and relaxing after that whole ordeal.

Still, Jethro couldn’t help a little sigh when he finally stepped out of the bar. He holds the door open for you and Ducky - a nickname you’ve given the Scot that took the hold of liquor to stick.

“Well, that was a jolly time. Been a while since I’ve had a sip with companions I could tolerate a conversation with. I’ve found there’s very few people in America who want to sit down for a drink in a pub…”

“Bar,” Jethro says. He hears your soft snort of laughter from behind.

“Bar,” Ducky repeats with a smile only a drunk man would wear. It brings to mind when the doctor had been teasing Gibbs about drinking too much. And just as he goes to sit down on the curb of the street, you’re right there to help him down. Preventing the intoxicated doctor from falling straight on his ass and patting his shoulder once he’s leaning against a stop sign.

Jethro smirks at the sight, shaking his head lightly as he approaches the street to flag down a taxi. Yeah, it was late. It’s been a trying couple of days. But he can’t admit that he didn’t have a little fun. Ducky attempting to teach you some Scottish drinking songs was surely a highlight.

His hand waves up at an oncoming taxi, and thankfully, it notices him and veers over. “Alright, doc. Time to get you home. You know the address of your hotel?”

Gibbs comes over to help you pull Ducky back up, but the other man just regards him with a huff and a frown. “Of course I do, Marine. I’ve got a very good memory, you know. Like a Bottlenose Dolphin. Do you know it’s theorized that dolphins have an even longer memory than elephants?” Ducky stumbles a little over his own feet, almost falling into the street in front of the taxi. But Jethro catches him before he can fall. “Imagine that: a whole metaphor undone because of a single study…”

“That’s very interesting, Ducky,” you tell him lightly, a giggle edging your voice.

Jethro pulls the door open, intent on helping Mallard in so you don’t strain yourself doing it. But the doctor puts a hand on the roof of the cab, balancing himself so he can turn to face you. He’s reflecting your easy smile, and Jethro can’t help but narrow his eyes as he watches the doctor lean over to take hold of your hand.

Is Mallard some kind of drunken flirt? Gibbs fixes his jaw.

“You’re a very charming person, and I do look forward to working with you again. I pray it’s sooner rather than later,” Ducky says. And with no hesitation, he presses a chaste kiss against your knuckles - still a bit tender, but you don’t look as if it bothers you.

Which is why Jethro is tempted to just shove Mallard into the taxi and send him on his way.

Granted, the kiss was brief. He releases your hand and turns to Gibbs, whom he gives a brief nod to. “Same to you, Marine.” And with that, Dr. Mallard ungraciously climbs into the backseat of the taxi, and Gibbs can tell he’ll be chatting the driver’s ear off the whole way. His voice fades as the car drives off.

“That was fun.”

Immediately, Jethro’s eyes leave the cab to look at you. “The drinking, or that kiss?” He asks maybe a bit too sternly.

Your eyes go wide in surprise, lips slowly quirking upward as you gaze up at him without a word. And Jethro winces inwardly at the can of worms he likely opened without even meaning to. He turns away, intent to find another cab for the two of them. But you’re not ready to drop it. “Well, I don’t know. Which did you enjoy the most?”

“Geez,” he mumbles. “Ya know, we should’ve just stayed home. You’re really in no condition to be out and about.”

You don’t reply. Instead, your arms appear right around his waist, closing tight and leaning up against his back. He’s thankful for the position, at least, so you couldn’t see the smirk on his lips. And when Jethro places his hand on your arm, he’s careful to avoid the bandages. He wants to touch your skin, anyway.

“Y’know, Jethro, if you wanna kiss me, you don’t have to wait until after Ducky does it.”

#ncis x reader #ncis reader insert #ncis imagine #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #donald mallard x reader #gibbs imagine #ducky imagine

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theonewiththefanfics · 3 years

Text

Shield (one-shot)

Synopsis: To the new Captain America she might just be a human shield. But Bucky can see there’s more to it. What he can’t understand is why she stays.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, lil bit of fluff

Warnings: mentions of blood and guns, swearing, torture, low mental state etc.

Word count: 3591

I am going absolutely feral about the fact that a portion of the series takes place in Latvia as I am Latvian :D Just seeing the signs and streets (which are not really ours cause they filmed in Prague, but are similar enough I can envision it), especially because we’re such a small country is amazeballs, so to be in such a huge show with my MCU faves is insane. Had the same kind of reaction to Brooklyn Nine-Nine with Nikolaj and the Captain Latvia episode. Riga hammer for the win :D

P.S. John Walker is not Captain America cause he does not posses America’s ass. Also Zemo is one hundred percent Bucky’s and Sam’s sugar daddy. I won’t accept any dispute over this.

P.S.S. please also remember - John Walker is a character not a real person. John Walker is played by an actor who is doing his job the same way the actor who played Joffrey did. Do not harass him etc. but rather appreciate the insane talent he has. This place is a Wyatt Russell stan place.

P.S.S.S. Kinda spoilers for the show so if you haven’t seen it, don’t read this.

He hated him. Bucky genuinely hates him. He never thought he had despised something or someone so much, not even HYDRA, as much as he hated John Walker – the new Captain America. He wanted to scream at that, at the fact that this arrogant asshole was carrying Steve’s shield, the symbol of freedom and everything good, while in reality, he embodied none of what it stood for.

Walker and what he’d learned his sidekick was Battlestar, had swooped in from a helicopter while Sam and he had been following the Flag-Smasher vehicles, and, well, they hadn’t been a lot of help, which he shouldn’t be too surprised about. But what he had been surprised about was when they’d all been thrown off of the semi-trucks and scattered all around a field, someone else had been in the mix as well.

A young woman with Y/H/C hair and determined Y/E/C eyes was rushing towards them, screaming for them to stay on the ground. When Bucky looked behind, he could see why given how one of the radicalised people had jumped from the trucks and was barreling at them with an automatic cocked at them

But it wasn’t Walker who jumped up running past her, shield at the ready to take on the fire. No. He just remained sitting as the stranger kept her pace. She leapt at the two with a grace of a cat, pushing him and Sam back to the ground and immediately got blown back by the received ammunition, gasps leaving her mouth as the bullets entered her body.

Sam’s wings extended and created a body length shield as Bucky snatched one of the knives strapped to the man’s side and flung it with deadly accuracy into the Flag-Smasher’s neck, dropping him to the ground.

There was blood when he looked back. There was so much blood, and once again it was all over Bucky’s hands, and he couldn’t breathe properly, pressing down on her abdomen and shoulder and side, and. oh god, there were too many bullet wounds...

Two wide Y/E/C eyes stared back up at him, mouth gasping down shallow breaths as he held down on her wounds trying to stop the blood from pouring out. God, there was so much of it.

“Don’t close your eyes,” he gritted, his body trembling. “Well get you help. You’ll be alright.”

But then Walker spoke up, and Bucky saw read because of a different reason. “She’s fine, just leave it.”

His head snapped to see that arrogant bastard cross his arms as he hissed. “Leave it? She’s fucking bleeding out! She took those bullets for you, and you just want to leave it?!”

Walker just smirked, nudging his chin towards her body. “You’ll see.”

“You let her use herself as a shield while you did nothing!”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Because that’s her whole point.”

And that’s when Bucky felt her skin shift underneath his hands. Slowly the blood stopped pouring out, Y/N’s breathing evened, and her eyes closed not because death was calling, but because of relief as the regenerative cells kicked into high gear.

Bucky gazed in wonder as the wounds closed up, and when only scar tissue remained he snapped his blue eyes to her, Y/E/C ones already staring back at him.

“Who are you?” he whispered

“A human shield that’s what,” Walker answered in her stead, but Bucky just sneered.

“I asked who, not a what. She’s a fucking person.”

Once more he looked back down and saw a strange look in her eyes. It was as if she was trying to decipher what those words meant, but once the shock from such a huge assault had ended, she gulped down a breath and gave him a crooked smile. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

A lopsided one came to grace his own face. “I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

“Bucky.” Her eyebrow rose. “Well, it’s very nice to finally meet you.”

He smiled at her, and not the painful smile he’d given the senator before her arrest, but a real genuine smile, one that made the skin around his eyes crinkle.

“And it’s very nice you didn’t decide to die on us.”

“Yeah, yeah, can we cut this meet and greet shorter?” Walker interrupted them, and if Bucky hadn’t been holding onto Y/N’s shoulder as she tried to rise from the ground, he would’ve punched the guy.

“I told you she was going to be fine.”

Bucky threw him his best murder glare but stopped when he felt Y/N squeeze his hand as if saying ‘don’t bother.' His brows furrowed in confusion. She just shook her head.

“We should still find you a hospital.” He talked to Y/N directly, ignoring what the new Captain was saying. “It doesn’t matter that you can survive something like that, I’d rather make sure you’re checked out by professionals.

“It won’t be necessary.” Walker slipped the shield on his arm and nudged his partner to start walking with him, pretty much expecting the rest to follow. “It was her choice anyway to take the hits.”

“It doesn’t mean she should!” Bucky pretty much hollered, startling even Sam.

At that, he saw Y/N’s eyes widen and her head snap up to look at him. All the breath got knocked out from Bucky at the emotion in her face. It was like she didn’t believe what he was saying like she didn’t know it was a possibility to not put her own life before someone else’s, that maybe someone is supposed to do it for her, someone could protect her.

“She absorbs fucking bullets and infuses them in her body.” John mocked. “I’d say it’s a win-win on both sides. Everyone else stays safe, and she gets stronger, right? The whole bleeding thing is a hitch in the system, but our guys say with enough scuffles that should stop as well.”

Walker looked at her. Y/N just gulped, staring back down at the ground between her knees.

When he looked back at everything the moment he’d seen Zemo in the cell and the asshole had said something still remained in him from the Winter Soldier, came back to connect with the scene. He’d hated that sentence because Bucky knew it was true. The Soldier would always be a part of him, but that was what therapy was for – to accept it and let go. But in that minute, he wouldn’t have cared one bit if the ruthless assassin came to the surface if it meant snapping Walker’s neck like a stick.

He treated the woman as if she was below him, as if Steve’s shield somehow made him better than her, better than anyone, and yet, even when he’d been given the privilege to carry it, he’d rather use a human person, no matter if they had powers, as a shield.

A soft hand touched his side, and Bucky looked at Y/N, his breathing heavy at Walker’s words.

“I’m alright.” Her voice was softer than he thought it would be. Maybe it was because she was trying to stay out of John’s earshot, but even the gentle whisper made something in Bucky’s chest stir. “Thank you,” she said. “For checking up on me.”

Bucky stiffly nodded, standing up and offering both his hands for her to take, but even with that, it took Sam holding her by the waist to be able to stand. The Falcon had to catch her, in fact, when she took her first steps, an awkward chuckle escaping her mouth.

“It’s been a while since a hit like this.”

Sam quirked a brow and smirked. “You always have a tendency to do stupid shit like that?”

Y/N’s whole body relaxed as he said so, and a sting went through Bucky’s own. How bad were they treating her if basic kindness and a little bit of joking made her feel so safe?

Just as he was about to ask her more, to offer to take her with them, Walker spoke up again. That conversation was an absolute disaster, and the fact that Walker thought Sam and him would actually ever consider working with him on this mission was idiotic.

It ended with the two Avengers watching how Walker threw an arm around Y/N’s shoulders, making her knees buckle with the weight, her from still regaining strength, but he didn’t care, just dragged her along with him and Battlestar.

“Are we just gonna let ‘em do that to her?” Bucky sneered, arms crossed watching their retreating forms over the field.

He felt Sam glower next to him. “There’s not much we can do.”

He hated that he was right.

Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. One meeting had left him shaken to the core not just about her, but about how there was something deeply off with the new Captain America, that if they didn’t take action something horrible would happen, not just because of his arrogance, but because of some seed he could feel had rooted itself in the other man’s heart.

But by that point they’d been in Madripoor, had met Sharon who’d been on the run from the US government ever since the dismantlement of the Avengers, and had now followed a lead to where the Flag-Smashers had settled in Latvia.

Zemo seemed to not only have a billion cars, but a billion apartments scattered around the world, this one being in the heart of the Old Town.

Bucky was on the roof looking over the twinkling lights of the city. His bed had been too soft as it always was, and even the floor wasn’t it for him, not a wink of sleep coming his way as his thoughts were flooded by Y/N.

Well, the sleep part wasn’t true. He had been able to drift off, only to dream of how the woman didn’t get better, didn’t absorb those bullets and had died right in his arms. That’s when he decided he needed a breath of fresh air.

The sound of shuffling feet made him whip around from the scenic view only to be greeted by a form he’d now recognise in a full-on ski-suit in pitch-black darkness.

“What are you doing here?” Bucky stood up wanting to stride over and check her for any wounds she might’ve gotten while around Walker. Any new scar on her body would mean the same number of teeth he’d knock from that Walmart-version-Captain-America’s mouth.

“Came to warn you.” She shrugged, soft winds making her coat flutter. “John and Lemar are resting, but come morning they’ll be on your ass, so you might wanna make a move now.”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t get you. You’re nothing like them, I can see that you know how wrong it is, for him to be carrying that shield, that he’s making a mockery out of the name and legacy Steve built, and yet…”

Y/N hung her head lifting her shoulders, hands in her pockets. “I gotta do what I gotta do.”

“He’s an asshole,” Bucky hissed.

Y/N gave him a painful look. “I know. But I don’t have anywhere to go. Besides… you have your own way of making amends. Well, this is mine.”

Dark brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She let out a painful chuckle, not because of the memories now plaguing her waking thoughts, but because her wounds were still healing, and instantly Bucky came closer and took her hand, running a soothing thumb over her palm. Wounds he was sure were new.

Y/N froze at his touch, and Bucky was about to pull away when she put her own thumb over his. He had to bite back tears at how tenderly she was looking down at his palm. Like no one had ever comforted her when it hurt.

“When the Blip happened,” she started, voice low and quiet. “I watched how my sister and mom disappeared right in front of my eyes. We were driving over the Golden Gate Bridge, and there was a truck before us. It was carrying loads of metal scraps. The driver of the truck got blipped as well.” She swallowed harshly. “I can still feel how the beam went through my shoulder, how it broke the bone and skin, and how I just wanted to disappear like they had just to make the pain stop. But I didn’t. It hurt so bad.” Y/N looked at Bucky, tears running down her face. “It was burning and tearing, and so much pain… and all I could do was scream, but no one heard me because everyone else was screaming, and I was just one of the thousands doing it.”

Y/N shook her head, and when Bucky leaned closer to wipe away the tears, she sighed at the feeling. “I passed out sometime later. From the pain the… well, everything. And when I woke up, I heard people outside the door, trying to rip it open, I could see red lights flashing, but where I expected that beam to be was nothing. When I looked down at myself there was a hole in my shirt, but instead of a hole in my shoulder, a round scar was the only thing left from that moment.”

“They took me to the hospital, and when they tried to put an IV in, my body just swallowed up the needle.” She took a shaky breath, and Bucky squeezed her side. ‘Go on’ he tried to convey with the touch. ‘I’m here.’

“That’s when the tests started. They were fine at first. Blood samples when they managed to get any, saliva and all that good jazz… but then they started poking. And poking turned into slicing which turned into stabbing until I was their personal pincushion, as they tried to see what my body would and wouldn’t take.”

Y/N was shaking by that point, but not because of the wind that had picked up, but because of anger, of the horror, she’d had to go through. It took everything in Bucky to remain calm and let her continue.

“Two years they did that. And then one time they went a bit too far. Someone had stolen a vibranium spear from the Dora Milaje.”

Bucky’s breath got caught in his throat. He wasn’t moving a muscle.

“They wanted to know if I could absorb the strongest metal on Earth, so slowly…” Her hands went to her front, to the white blouse she was wearing and started popping open the buttons. Bucky was just about to protest when he understood.

“They pushed the spear too far.” Her finger ran over a rhomb shaped scar right in the centre of her chest. Right over her heart. “Pushed it right through.”

“How did you survive?” Bucky was appalled, but in awe at the same time.

Y/N shook her head. “I didn’t. I died then and there on the table. They took my body and dumped it in some ditch. From my own calculations, it took me about a day to heal. They’d sown in a scalpel in my stomach a few hours before, so I’m assuming it used that as the binding material for the cells.”

“I was so angry.” She looked at him. “At everyone, at myself, that I couldn’t help my family, that I allowed them to just use me like that, I just went off the deep end. I did so many bad things…” A tear slipped down her cheek. “I read about the Winter Soldier, y’know. His whole thing was efficiency, quickness. I – “ She choked on her words. “I wasn’t. I wanted to drag it out. Wanted to find each and every one of the bastards who laid their hands on me and make them suffer as I did.”

Bucky’s hand settled on her waist as he pulled her closer, feeling her body keen at the motion as she looked for reassurance. “I’m not a good person, Bucky. This.” She motioned with her head to her body. “This is my repentance for what I did.”

“What he’s doing is not right. What they’re making you do is not right.” Bucky shook his head. “Just because it might not kill you, doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. No one had any right to touch you.”

“It’s the price I pay for what I did.”

“Pain?”

Y/N nodded. “Eye for an eye. Pain for the pain I caused.”

Bucky shook his head. “That’s not right.”

“How else am I supposed to do this?”

“By getting help yourself first.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and Bucky sighed. He understood how impossible that thought seemed, that someone who’s done so much bad could deserve help from others, but he understood her situation better than anyone. “Being here,” he said, “being able to say these things… I can only do that because I got help. It was mandated by the state, but nevertheless…” Both chuckled at that, and Bucky’s heart lightened at the sound, at the genuine sound of joy from her. “But the therapy… I hate to say this, but it helped. It’s not easy. I sometimes detest going to the sessions, and I might be failing them quite miserably right now, especially with rule number two –“

“What’s rule number two?”

“Don’t hurt anyone,” Bucky mumbled. “And I’ve broken it quite a lot recently, I know that which will either make me end up behind bars or will add more therapy sessions to the list, but I’m not afraid anymore.”

Y/N gulped, gazing just as intensely at Bucky as he was at her. “Of what?”

“Of reaching out.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Of asking for help. Of understanding that I deserve help, and I deserve to receive it.”

“Yeah, but the thing is I’m not like you.” Y/N looked away from him. “No one forced me to do this, no one brainwashed me. I did everything out of my own volition. Me. No one else. You deserve that help because HYDRA did all those things to you. You are a victim of war. I’m not. All those horrible things I did… I did them. Not some alias of mine.”

Bucky’s heart hurt at the fact that Y/N couldn’t see she was a victim of her own circumstance, and how now the government was punishing her for it. And that’s when another brick hit him – it was exactly like Isaiah’s situation. Both came from marginalised groups, parts of society where the ones in power have been trying to oppress and control them for as long as he could remember, he just couldn’t see it. He could see Sam’s point of view now. Maybe not as clearly as he should, but he was starting to wipe away the fog.

“They used you just as much as HYDRA used me.” He asserted, and Y/N’s eyes widened at his sure statement. “Just because a pile of shit has a bowtie on now, doesn’t mean it’s no longer a pile of shit… Come with us.” Bucky’s forehead pressed to hers. “Let’s do this the right way.”

“It’s mandated by the US government that I stay by John’s side and help him.”

Bucky smirked at that, nudging his nose against Y/N’s. “Well, it’s a good thing we’re in Latvia then. Besides Captain America has no pull here.”

She laughed, warm breath slipping over Bucky’s skin, and he had to close his eyes as the thought of her breathless and underneath him invaded his mind. “Unfortunately, this deal stands whether I’m inside the borders of USA or outside.”

Y/N looked over the skyline to where the country’s national monument stood. A woman, hands up in the air outstretched with three stars in her palms, with words she couldn’t understand when she'd arrived etched on the granite at the bottom. Some local had translated them for her. For the Fatherland and Freedom.

After the blip and the experiments, she didn’t feel like she had a home. She’d been imprisoned and prodded like some lab bunny to see what her body could do. What her body could be used for.

Bucky followed her gaze as she kept looking at the statue. Different stars, different saying, but still with the same meaning of what he saw when he looked at the Captain America shield. Freedom. Justice. For the love of their home.

Something deep started to burn in her chest, and even Bucky could feel the shift.

A ferocious look appeared in her eyes as she looked at him. “Let’s get that shield.” She wasn’t going to let Walker taint that star, she knew would happen if he had it for much longer.

They’d had a single meeting beforehand, and during that half-hour, he’d been terrified for more than two-thirds of the time about how Y/N might die in his arms, die because she’d taken bullets meant for him.

He was so glad she hadn’t, not because it would be another life lost because of him, but because he felt like he’d found a twin flame – someone who’d understand him and his troubles. Someone he could help.

Maybe that could be the true way he could make amends – help someone in the same situation.

Bucky smiled.

Y/N did so too, and his heart skipped a beat looking at the woman.

Her body might be able to absorb the metals piercing it, Walker might call her a human shield, but he knew she was so much more than that. And he’d spend however long it took him to prove so to her. Maybe even in more ways than one.

_________________________________________________________________

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maybe-theres-hope · 3 years

Text

Tarlos Fic - Dinner Date

3.2k | T | Warnings: Blood, Injuries (mostly minor) | Contains: Judd/Carlos friendship, Tarlos being perfect, blue Camaro (rip)

Read on AO3

“So, what are your plans for the night?” Nancy asked as they exited the ambulance, their shift nearly over as long as the bell didn’t go off in the next ten minutes.

TK smiled to himself for a moment before he spoke. “Well, Carlos is taking me to Jeffrey’s, so…”

“Holy mother,” Nancy breathed, looking at him with obvious envy. “Do you guys have a ten year anniversary or something coming up? Did he get some kind of commendation at work? Because I know your last one was like a month ago, so.”

“No, no anniversary, that’s in a couple of months. And its three years, Nance.” He chose to ignore her muttering about their mushiness ‘aging me ten years’. “And nothing from work that I know of. Maybe he just loves me?” TK couldn’t stop grinning while they stocked the bus and readied for the handover.

“He loves you crap ton! Their wagyu strip steak is a hundred and twenty-five dollars!” Nancy had her phone out, obviously googling the menu.

“Well at least we’ll save money on wine,” TK said with a chuckle.

“I’ve heard of the place by reputation but like, dude, who ever gets the chance to actually go there?”

“TK it seems,” Tommy cut in. “Why don’t you go on? We got it here and you’re gonna need at least an hour to pick out an outfit.”

“And gel your hair. You and your dad are way more alike than you want to admit,” Nancy added with a roll of her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You sure, Cap? I can stay and help?”

“I’m sure, kiddo. Go get dolled up for your man. Eat a few bites for us, yeah?” Tommy yelled at his retreating figure. She and Nancy looked at each other with grins as they caught the little skip in his step.

“So, what do you think the occasion is?”

Tommy looked back at Nancy with a gleam in her eye. “I can wager a guess, but I don’t want to jinx it.” Nancy just gave her a look and went back to restocking.

Around 8 p.m., Owen was sitting in his office toying with his phone in his hand, smiling at his last text exchange.

we’re just leaving the house now, wish me luck!

you’re not gonna need it, kid :)

“Not if I know my son anyway,” Owen said aloud to the empty room. He wondered if it’d happened yet. No incoherent string of emoji’s from TK yet, so he doubted it.

He was shoving the phone back into his pocket with the bell went off.

“Alright guys,” Owen said into the mic from the Captain’s chair. “Dispatch says three vehicles involved, two still on the road and one went over the side into the ravine. Police are on their way but we’ll probably beat ‘em there. Strickland, Marwani, soon as we get there I want you to harness up and get down in that ravine. Judd, you too. You’ll be in command down there and I’ll stay up top with the other two vehicles. Everybody else you’re with me, got it?”

A chorus of “Copy that, Cap,” and suddenly they were on the scene.

“Marjan, Paul, we’re goin’ down!” Judd called to them as the rest of the crew went over to the silver Prius and black Mazda that were crumpled in the middle of the two-lane highway. Judd wasn’t a prayin’ man, but he sent up a little something to the man upstairs that this went their way. It looked bad.

Paul arrived at his side first, strapped into his gear. “Marjan’s grabbing the bag from the truck, she’s coming.”

“Alright. We’ll go down this way,” Judd said, pointing to a safe-ish stretch of hillside. “Can’t see the other car from here but dispatch said bystanders saw it go over. Probably just hidden in the trees.”

“Okay guys, let’s do this!” Marjan called, harnessed and carrying the medical bag and a backboard. “TK’s gonna be sad he missed this. Medical doesn’t get to harness up a lot and I know he loved it. He coulda helped.”

“Nah, he’s got better things tonight. Carlos was takin’ him to Jeffrey’s,” Paul said with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“Ohh, fancy,” Marjan said with a smile. “What’s the occasion?”

They’d reached the bottom and were starting to look through the brush and low-hanging trees for a vehicle.

“Don’t know,” Paul answered. “But I think Cap’s in on it somehow.”

“What?”

“Yeah,” Judd cut in as he whacked a few branches out of his way. “Carlos came by the station a few weeks ago, and they sat up in Cap’s office for an hour before he left grinnin’ like a possum eatin’ a sweet tater.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Paul said with a laugh.

“Hey guys, look!” Marjan called from a few yards to the left. The other two went to her position and saw what she’d found. A track in the underbrush where it had been torn at and flattened. “Think this is the place.”

“Let’s go,” said Judd. They followed the path through the brush for a couple of yards before they caught sight of it: taillights. “Alright, Marjan you go on the passenger side, I got the driver. Paul you see if you can clear some of that brush off the back in case the doors are jammed and we gotta get ‘em out that’a way.”

Visibility was still low despite the lights of the car and their flashlights, but as they approached they saw the car wrapped around the trunk of a tree on the passenger side. “I don’t know if I can get in there, Judd, but I’ll try,” Marjan said as she broke out into a jog.

“Wait!” Paul cried. Judd looked over at him, and he would have said such a thing couldn’t happen to a calm and collected person like Paul, but his face had gone ashen. “That’s Carlos’s car,” he said on a breath.

“What?” In the dark, now that he was really looking, he could see they were coming up on—what used to be—a blue Camaro.

“I’m sure of it. TK bullied him into putting that sticker on the back because he said it was too pristine and it needed personality.” He shone his flashlight at the rear bumper and sure enough, there was a SXSW sticker half ripped off from the path the car had taken to get there.

“Come on,” Judd said, heart rate kicking up.

“Should we call Cap?” Paul asked.

“No, we stay down here and do our jobs, and he stays up there and does his. We’ll get ‘em.” His voice sounded numb even to his own ears, but he was determined.

“They were on their way to dinner,” Paul said lowly.

“Yeah, probably takin’ the backroads to avoid traffic,” Judd said, shaking his head. Fate was hell sometimes.

When they reached the car, Marjan was yelling. “TK! TK can you hear me?” She turned to Judd. “I can’t get in there. The tree trunk is halfway into the car, probably pinning him to the console. He’s unresponsive.” Her face was also pale, but determined.

Judd went to the driver’s side and saw Carlos, head hanging to the side facing the broken window. He tried the door as he called out. “Carlos? Hey Carlos, come on buddy. Can you hear me?” The door wouldn’t budge; Judd figured the car had rolled a couple of times coming down the hill, crumpling it like a tin can. Then he heard a soft groan.

He looked up, and one of Carlos’s eyes was trying to open. The other was swollen shut, where he’d probably hit his head on the steering wheel before the airbag deployed. Half his face had burn marks from it.

“Hey, hey Carlos, look at me, that’s it.” That one eye tracked around before it landed on Judd, drawn to the light of the flashlight on his helmet. “Hey man. We’re gonna get you out okay? Now, can you move your fingers and toes for me?” Judd stuck his head into the window to see down in the floor boards. “Alright, likely no spinal damage. How’s your head?”

“Hurts. Shoulder, too.” His voice was barely audible.

“Okay, it looks like you dislocated it,” Judd said as he prodded his left shoulder. “I don’t see anything broken but we’ll have to get you out to determine that.”

“TK—“ a wheeze, “TK…first. Been out…a while.”

Judd peered over to the passenger side, where TK was shoved almost fully into the center console, head laid back on the headrest and his face covered in blood. Marjan and Paul were still hard at work outside trying to clear a path into the car.

“We can’t get to his side just yet, but we can get you out first and then we’ll be able to pull him out this way, okay? We wanna focus on you right now.”

“Alive.”

“Yeah, you’re alive, Carlos. You’re not gonna leave us yet,” he said as he assessed the door panels where they could cut through with the saws they brought.

“No. TK. Weak, but…alive,” Carlos breathed out, coughing through the end.

“We’ll make sure he’s alive, okay?” Judd said, trying not to lose his professionalism at this whole messed up situation.

“He is.” Judd stopped looking around and looked back at Carlos. The man raised his right hand just as much as he was able, showing where he had two fingers on TK’s radial pulse.

“Good, that’s good Carlos,” Judd assured him. That meant Carlos had had some minutes of consciousness after the accident before they showed up. “Was he talking at all? After you hit the tree?”

“Little. Minutes, maybe.”

“That’s good, that’ll help. Alright Carlos, we’re gonna get this door off so I’m gonna cover you with this while we do okay?” Judd waited for a small nod before he covered Carlos’s face and torso with his own turnout coat.

After an agonizing four minutes, the door popped off in a shower of metal and broken glass. Judd removed the coat and went back in to assess. “Carlos? How you doin’?”

“Tired. But won’t…sleep. Promise. That’s bad.”

“You learn a few things from your Paramedic boyfriend?” Judd said with a watery smile.

“Mmm.”

“Judd, I got the back cleared. Maybe we can get in there to at least check TK’s vitals,” Paul informed them.

“Get on it, I’ma try to get Carlos here out onto this backboard. Marjan, radio for another backboard and have two RA’s ready to go topside!”

“Copy that!” Judd had to admire those two. They never let their professionalism slip too far, though he could see they were worried sick. He could relate. He wouldn’t relax until both of the boys were back up the hill and on the way to the hospital.

From the looks of things, maybe not even then. But he had hope.

“Alright, Carlos, I’m gonna grab your legs and behind your shoulders here and pull you out, okay? It’s gonna hurt like hell, but it’ll be quick.”

“Wait.”

Judd stopped cold.

“Left…pocket. Please.”

“You want me to get at your left pocket?” A nod. “Alright, hang on.”

Judd carefully shifted Carlos’s leg so he could reach into his slacks, which had probably been part of a very nice suit at the beginning of the night. His fingers searched until they hit a small bump, an object no bigger than a baseball, soft velvet over a hard shell. He sucked his lips between his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he pulled it free in his hand.

“Keep it…safe…for me?”

Judd looked down at the little black box for a moment, then clutched it tight in his hand before transferring it one of the innermost pockets of his turnout.

“Of course, man. I will guard this with my life.” He looked up and saw Marjan coming back with another backboard. “Alright, buddy. It’s go time.”

Carlos gave a weak nod and winced when Judd started to pull.

“Welcome back, man. You had us worried there for a bit.”

Carlos opened his good eye to see Judd sitting at his bedside, smiling softly. It took a moment to remember where he was. Hospital. Accident. Tree.

“TK—“

“Is fine. Banged up and will need crutches for a few weeks, not to mention a killer headache with no meds, but he’s fine. All things considered.”

“Where is he?”

“On his way, so you just stay put, okay? You’re pretty banged up, too, ya’know.”

Carlos shifted a bit and winced. His left arm was in a sling, his head bandaged over his left eye, and his right side hurt like hell.

“Broken rib when the tree went into TK’s door, door went into TK, TK went into the console, then the console went into you. He’s got a femoral fracture in his right leg but like I said, all things considered, you’re both pretty well off for how far you fell and probably rolled.”

“Yeah, he said his leg had gone numb but he could still move his toes. He made sense for about five minutes, then started talking all jumbled, then went quiet. I uh…freaked out a bit after that. I thought he had…” Carlos trailed off, looking haunted.

“Yeah, and you kept your fingers on his pulse that whole time. What you were able to tell us at the scene helped us treat him. You did good, Carlos.”

“Not good enough to swerve in time,” he said.

“Not your fault. And don’t you dare go thinkin’ it is. I don’t wanna hear it, Carlos,” Judd said in what TK called his Dad Voice. Stern and no room for argument. Carlos just nodded.

“And uh, hey. I been waitin’ to give this back to you.” Judd stood and walked over to the bed, holding out a tiny black box. Carlos took it and cradled it against his chest. “It better be a nice one, cuz I about had a heart attack while I was showerin’ thinkin’ someone was gonna come get my pile a’clothes and take ‘em to the laundry while I was gone.”

“You didn’t open it?”

“Nah, I figure the big reveal? TK deserves that all to himself.”

“Owen’s seen it,” Carlos countered, smirking.

“Uh huh. He approve?”

Carlos laughed. “He whistled and said I spent too much.”

“To impress the Cap it must be a lot,” Judd said with a small whistle of his own.

“Well, what was it Michael Scott said? Three years’ salary?”

Judd’s eyes almost popped out of his head, and Carlos laughed harder before wincing again at his broken rib. “I’m kidding, Judd. But I can tell you, no matter the cost, TK deserves the best and that’s what I hope I got.”

“You gonna make another reservation? Soon as y’all get back into fightin’ shape?”

Carlos looked down at the box again for a moment, contemplating. “I…don’t think so.”

Judd had a confused expression on his face but at that moment, a nurse was wheeling TK into the room, followed by most of the 126. Carlos’s face lit up like starlight at the sight of him.

“Hey, babe,” TK said with a smile. His leg was in a full cast, so the nurse was careful in maneuvering him around to Carlos’s bedside.

“Hey, I feel like you should be the one in bed! Why are you out and about?”

“Because you were still asleep and he’s an absolute menace. We made multiple apologies to the staff on his behalf for the last hour,” Owen said as he walked into the room behind his crew. “He’s a stubborn little shit. Always has been, always will be. You sure you’re up for that?” He asked knowingly. TK was still looking at Carlos, blushing at his dad’s ribbing. Carlos met his eyes and said, “Yes.” He blushed more.

“In fact,” Carlos continued. “I’m ready to get started. I’ve waited too long anyway. I mean, how many times do you and I have to beat death before I get the nerve to do this?” He said, looking into TK’s beautiful eyes which were looking confused.

“What are you talking about, babe?”

“Look, I’m sorry this didn’t go how I planned. And I’m sorry I can’t get down on one knee right now, but. I hope you love me enough not to mind.” He lifted his good arm, his hand holding out the box. “A little help, Judd?”

“It’d be an honor,” the man said before leaning in and opening the box, since Carlos only had one good arm.

At the sight of the contents of the box, TK’s eyes went as big as saucers. Surprise was written clearly over every inch of his features, which were all still beautiful even scarred and stitched up as they were at the moment. God, Carlos loved this man so much.

“Tyler Kennedy Strand, you are the love of my life. I tried so many different scenarios in my head of how this speech would go, before I just said screw it, I’ll speak from the heart. You’re kind, funny, sexy, sweet, and everything in between. You can’t boil water and you absolutely can’t properly separate laundry. I have a dozen pink shirts as proof of that.” At this, the gathered group chuckled and TK went bright red. “Ah, but you also know just how to ease the tension from a long day just by hugging me on the doorstep. And I can always count on you to be there for me when the world gets too much, when what we see out there creeps in too far. And I want you to know, that I want to be that for you too, for the rest of our lives. So, TK. Will you marry me?”

The room was silent, apart from the hum and beeps of the machines. Everyone on the edge of their proverbial seats, but no one having any doubt to the outcome.

“Oh, my God! Of course I’ll marry you! Yes, yes! Yes!” The last was said through TK’s fingers covering his red face, hiding the few tears that had started to fall. He held out his left hand to Carlos, who Judd had kindly helped by removing the ring from its box and handing it back to him. He slid it over TK’s finger, smiling like an idiot the whole time, barely registering the whoops and hollers of the 126 throughout the room.

He only had eyes for TK.

“I love you,” TK breathed through his happy tears.

“I love you too, baby. Always.”

“Oh, my God, dude, were you seriously surprised?” Nancy asked incredulously once the commotion had died down.

“Well…yeah? I didn’t expect this at all,” TK said, looking sheepish.

“TK…my dude…he was taking you to Jeffrey’s! How could you not know?”

Once again, the room erupted in laughter and TK ducked his head again. Carlos reached out and touched his chin, catching his eyes again.

There was nothing but love there.

CLEARLY every Tarlos fic I write has to have a proposal in it *shrug emoji*

Also I wrote this in like an hour after I had a dream so please excuse any typos I didn’t catch!

Please reblog if you liked it! I would really really appreciate it :) Thank you for reading!

#tarlos #tarlos fic #carlos reyes #tk strand #911 lone star #brooke writes

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apixrl · 3 years

Text

DRIVER'S LICENSE.

katsuki bakugou x fem! reader

WARNING(S): angst. cheating. swearing because it's bakugou.

word count: 4.5k

song: drivers license // olivia rodrigo (i wonder why...)

note(s): so i captioned this *at the time of writing* 'hello and welcome to i've had the worst two weeks ever so i wrote a katsuki oneshot to cope' and it's probably one of my most personal pieces of writing tbh

"-come Tuesday and we'll potentially see an end to this heavy downpour of rain. Temperatures will be on the rise to around-"

The talk on the radio cut short at the jab of your finger, heaving a great sigh which faded into the muffled pitter-patter of rain from outside. The streets had been showered with heavy downpours for the last week or so, no sign of sun or a still and restful day. Notwithstanding the miserable outdoors, the windscreen wipers on your car never ceased in their duty to grant you a clear view of the road ahead. And whilst you were grateful for their devotion, it didn't feel clear in the slightest. In fact, the road had never felt so blurry.

Shivering against the cold night chill and tucking your knees cosily to your chest, you eyed the raindrops on the windows. They raced against one another before they dripped down to your car's body, their glossy presence obvious thanks to the many hues of street lamps that surrounded them. You could have watched them for hours, being honest. Something about the droplets of water battling it out quite enticing. Anything to take you away from the cruel reality you were living in.

Your heart ached and yearned. But to no avail, the one you ached and yearned for didn't love you back.

Not anymore, at least.

Just the mere thought provoked a pulsating pang to resonate throughout your entire body. A pang filled with grief and sadness. Anger and hurt. You missed his sun-kissed face on the sunny mornings. You missed his eyes and how they gazed at you from across the room. You missed the smiles and laughter he would only show for you and you alone. The sense of glee and euphoria that came with that honour. Yet all of it was gone and there was no way you could get it back.

The memories of what had been triggered more waterworks. Hot, salty tears dug at the corners of your eyes and trickled down your face. Your motionless car concealed your cries and sobs. Every thrash against the wheel as you questioned to nobody in particular what went wrong and why. How you didn't see the signs sooner. What you could have done better. When he stopped loving you. If he ever planned to stop loving you. Whether it would have hurt more if you found out sooner.

All these questions with nothing to answer them.

Katsuki Bakugou had always fascinated you. From the very moment you met. You accompanied your friend on a double date, and he was the guy who she matched for you. Whilst he originally acted as though a blind date was the last place he wanted to be, underneath the aggression you could tell there was something much more genuine and true.

And your assumptions were correct. Truth be told, Katsuki Bakugou was one of the most genuine and truest people you had met (at the time). Once it was just the two of you, he allowed his true colours to unveil. Through the smallest of kind gestures that still haunted your mind to this day. Then upon confrontation, as you bid each other goodbye at your back door, his denial resulted in a flirtatious contest which then proceeded to an intimate night that changed your life forever. From there your mind was set.

He was the one.

Emphasis on was.

So blinded with a fairy tale love you grew so accustomed to, you never saw it coming. Never in your two-year relationship - that had so much strength and commitment built on top of it, never did you think that Katsuki Bakugou would throw it all out of the window like it was nothing. Disregard your loyalty and adoration for a drunken one night stand that slowly became an occasional hookup. Which soon became a mandatory pastime once a fortnight. Then twice. Maybe more than that. You wouldn't put it past him with what you knew now.

He kept it from you for nearly six months. Six months. The only reason you discovered his lies and deception was because you were let off early one night from work. You worked a night shift, see. Your last job had fallen to shambles, and it was temporary whilst you searched for a new one. And whilst that did take a toll on your relationship with Katsuki Bakugou, mostly finding time for intimacy since his working hours were during the day, none of that gave him any right to go and do what he did.

That wasn't one of the only reasons, you knew that for sure. There were other motives for his lack of loyalty. But you were never told. After you froze at the sight of another woman under his hold and stormed straight back to your car to flee. After he chased you down the flights of stairs in nothing but baggy pants into the streets of a twilight Musutafu. After you screamed into the darkness and belted your fists against his chest. Fists that were driven with rage and hurt and every emotion that burned like the hottest of fires and froze like the coldest of ice. He never even told you. He never made an effort to address it. Nor had he attempted to call or even try to visit your Mom's house - where you stayed as you searched for a permanent place to live. Just because you retreated for your car and cried that it was over, he never tried. But that didn't mean you weren't allowed an explanation. An apology. Something to give you a form of closure and a reason to move on. But you never did.

That wasn't even what hurt the most, either.

As silly as it was, the thing that hurt you the most was the very car you sat in.

EIGHT MONTHS AGO . . .

The red glow of traffic lights hit Katsuki's vermilion irises as he stared dead ahead at the long line of vehicles, the ash-blond heaving a sigh into the air. His finger tapped impatiently against the steering wheel he gripped with one hand, the spare rested casually against your upper thigh affectionately.

"I can't believe we have to sit through this torture just to go to some damn party," Katsuki grumbled, taking a glance over at you. His brows furrowed when he met you peacefully slouched down, nose dug into your phone as you presumably played some sort of game to pass the time. Like you had no care in the world for your predicament.

"It's your best friend's birthday, love," You mused back, Katsuki surprised you even listened based on your focused expression directed towards your phone. "It's not like we can just miss it,"

"Yeah, but we could have missed all this pain by taking the train instead of driving across town during rush hour,"

"Trains are icky, the seats would have ruined your suit and my dress," You pointed out, looking at the blond over your screen, sending him a sweet smile. He cocked a brow, a smirk creeping its way onto his lips as a scoff of a laugh broke out between them.

"Right, and laying down like a sloth is gonna help keep your dress uncreased?" He returned, amused at your realisation. At his comment, you sat up faintly and pouted your lip.

"Driving means more time to play Gravity Pops, and so does traffic,"

"Seriously? That's the game you're playing? You're such a dumbass,"

"Yes! I'm in the top 11% globally! I need to get to number one!" Was your protest, your arms flailing ahead of you briefly for dramatic emphasis. Katsuki clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes, though the small smile plastered over his lips betrayed his initial reaction. Unable to deny your determination, he spoke with confidence and almost a sense of pride.

"Number one, hm? Clearly rubbing off on you aren't I?"

"In a way, yes,"

"That's my girl," Katsuki remarked, earning a giggle from you that was uplifting to hear. It was there your attention went back to your phone, but Katsuki wasn't done. "So, speaking of cars, Y/N," Hearing his chosen tone - which sounded suggestive, you eyed him closely. Hesitant to reply as you had a sense of what he planned to say.

"...Yes?"

"Have you thought any more about getting your driver's license yet?"

Called it.

"...No,"

"What?" Katsuki began, tilting his head. He was surprised that he felt surprised. You had said those words in regards to this topic countless times. Still, he persisted. "Is that a no meaning you haven't or no meaning that you don't want to?"

"Both?" You half-guessed, sheepishly grinning at the look you were sent. "Look, cars scare me okay? And so do roads. And people. My nerves wouldn't be able to handle it! I can barely communicate with people face to face, so me being on the road is a recipe for disaster!"

"I know but -," Katsuki exhaled sharply, understanding your reasoning. You had voiced these concerns when confiding to Katsuki about your fears of the road. Something built and corrupted from social media as well as phobias and fears in general, it was a battle you had yet to overcome. You wanted to drive but was terrified of messing up or causing chaos on the road. Potentially inflicting harm to someone and yourself. You still weren't sure what triggered it all, but over the years it had manifested into something quite irrational, to say the least. Katsuki had been supportive of it and whilst he truly would love to always act as your personal taxi - you couldn't hide from it forever. It wasn't his job to keep you in your comfort zone. That, and he couldn't always be there for you that way. What if he was miles away and you had somewhere urgent to go like the hospital? "It's not as scary as you think. I know it's hard to believe that but seriously. The freedom you get from driving is amazing,"

"I'll think about it a little longer, okay?" You said with hesitancy, looking at Katsuki for a sign of confirmation. He nodded in defeat, knowing you probably needed more time and felt put on the spot. So he averted his eyes back to the road to check if the traffic had moved at all. It had not.

"Okay," Katsuki said. "But I can't be your taxi service forever,"

"But I like you being my taxi service," You jokingly said, a little sadness in your tone. "Your road rage is funny and I like watching you get out of the car and walk to my door after pulling up in my driveway,"

"What do you mean?" Katsuki asked, catching the twitch of a smile on your face upon saying those words. It struck his interest in what you could mean.

"You know, like when you say you're coming to pick me up?" You explained. "You pull up at my driveway and I don't know... simple things like that just remind me of how much I love you. It's dumb really, but it's important to me,"

"Really?" Katsuki questioned in disbelief. How something so small and meaningless could mean so much was puzzling. He couldn't understand why it was so special to you. But that didn't invalidate it in any shape or form. So he pushed that aside, replacing his wonder with gratitude. He returned to your bashful and flustered features, feeling a smile grow on his face.

"Yeah," You said, shrugging to downplay your words. "I love you. Stuff like that means a lot to me,"

"I love you too, even though you're a dumbass," Katsuki said, humbled by what you had said. The two of you shared a gentle exchange, your hand grabbing hold of Katsuki's as you gave it a squeeze. He squeezed back, and silence ensued. Had he realised such a thing sooner, then Katsuki would have pulled up in your driveway much more than he had been doing. But at that a thought struck his mind, victoriously smirking as he had an idea on how to potentially sway your worries. Or begin swaying it. Something was better than nothing, after all. "But what if I wanted you to pull up in my driveway one day?" His words caused you to look over at him in curiosity, hearing the seriousness in the question. It caught you off guard momentarily, having to contemplate as you gradually concluded that he had a point.

"Well one day, maybe I will," You vaguely replied and sat up a little bit. The hand holding yours pulled back and lifted to land on your shoulder, gripping reassuringly tight.

"I hope you do, I'd like to get in on this driveway action," He joked and smirked, faith riddled in his expression. You giggled ever so slightly, tempted to lean forward and peck Katsuki on the lips in thanks, but never a thing was to happen as the alerting red light from outside switched to warm amber.

"Ah!" Katsuki yelled in triumph, his attention leaving you swiftly as he got back into the driver's seat. Giving you no opportunity to respond to him and overall ruining the moment. "Took fucking long enough!"

The light turned green, and he set the car in motion, leaving you with your thoughts and the words he had uttered that day as the traffic stood still.

All your efforts, all your time devoted to getting over your fear of driving and the road as a whole... all of it was pointless. You did it for him. You promised him you would overcome your fears and better yourself. He built that motivation up brick by brick until you could grab hold and seize control. He wasted all that time to get you to reach such a stepping stone only to abandon it once it was through.

Just so you could pull up in his driveway, just like he requested. And what did you get in return when you finally did? A stab in the back and the loss of your other half.

You wiped your eyes via the sleeve of your hoodie, dampening the cuffs. Sniffling and exhaling a shaky breath, your gaze landed on nothing in particular. Yet somewhere within your clouded mind, you found interest. As that was where your gaze remained for a certain amount of time. You weren't sure how long exactly. It could have felt like an hour and only been five minutes. Or it could have felt like five minutes and was actually an entire hour. Either way, the clock ticked on and didn't wait for you to stop.

It was a good thing you had pushed your fears down and rose above them. It just pained you that you didn't even do it for yourself. Without Katsuki Bakugou, you never had any intentions of doing so. As a matter of fact, you had set out to take the train or bus for the rest of your life. Hell, you were going to use a bike and scooter if you got desperate. Had he even acknowledged how much work you put in just to get where you were? Was all that effort part of the reason why he decided to cheat? There was absolutely no telling. Absolutely no telling at all.

You wondered what he was doing now. Was he laid in bed resting peacefully? Out with his friends for a boy's night only? Maybe cooking his favourite curry? Possibly on a late-night jog despite the harsh weather? It never stopped him other times.

Did he ever think about you? Regret what he did and the actions he took? Had he ever considered apologising? Would he ever apologise? What if he was celebrating the fact you were no longer in his life? Had there ever been any love there for you in the start? Did he ever actually want you to get your driver's license because he believed in you? Or was it so he could get rid of you with much more ease? Make his departure less severe and less selfish? A way to justify his choices because it's not like you were hopelessly left to suffer everyday life now that you had a means of transport. Was he really that cruel?

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sharp jingle of your phone, the device lighting up as it sat in the passenger seat to your left. It took two or three rings for you to glance over at it, E/C eyes sore and drained from crying out. You squinted them to read the caller, seeing the name 'Work' fade in and out on the brightly lit screen. For a second or two you argued back and forth on whether to even bother picking up. Something about reaching across for your phone requiring a magnitude of energy you no longer possessed. Having spent it all on your cries of agony and the deprivation of your old life as a whole.

However, you had ignored your work in the last couple of weeks too many times now. So many times that pulling the same stunt again would probably risk you losing your job. It's not like your work was interested in why you felt such overwhelming pain... all they cared about was you turning up to do what you were hired to.

So using a forceful hand, you leaned over to pick it up. You fumbled to grip your phone and accepted the call with a dainty tap of your thumb. Then you blinked away your tears and subtly sniffed, pressing your phone to your ear to address the caller.

"Hello?" You practically croaked, quick to clear your throat and push any signs of upset down. It was presumably dry from how much you'd cried in the last two hours.

"L/N! Hey! Glad you finally picked up!" Unlike the droll and unvarying tones of your boss, the person on the other end was much more lively and greeting. So much so you could only assume it was none other than your work colleague, Etsuko. Probably the only person you genuinely liked where you worked, and the only person who made the time pass by faster. "I was worried you were gonna leave me on answer phone again,"

"Hm, what? Oh right. Yeah. Sorry about that. Haven't been feeling too great," You lied, even though it wasn't a complete fib. You hadn't been feeling great at all. You had never felt so rock bottom. It all just originated from your mind over anything else. But when did work care about that?

"Sounds like it, I hope you've been okay!" Still cheery as ever, Etsuko followed up with a laugh to fill the silence you created by not saying anything. "Is everything well? It's nothing serious, is it?"

"No. It's not. Just some dumb cold I caught," You excused. "I'm better now, though," Slouching down in your seat, you decided to ask the question that had been roaming your mind the last minute or so. "So why are you calling?"

"Oh, right!" Etsuko said. "Mr Kobashigawa was just wondering when you planned on coming back - for schedule reasons and to get people to fill in for your shifts,"

"I er...," Not entirely sure how to answer, you stuttered as your words cowered away in your attempt to speak. "I don't -,"

"It's okay, he doesn't need an answer yet," Etsuko reassured. "Maybe in the next day or two, though? He wasn't really specific, being honest,"

You sighed at the guilt brewing in your stomach. You weren't even sick for crying out loud! Why were you lying just so you could wallow in your own sadness?! Like that was going to change anything! Sitting around and crying wasn't going to give you what you wanted. You weren't getting him back. Katsuki Bakugou wasn't yours anymore. He made that clear by cheating. By making minimal effort to give you an explanation. By causing you so much pain with little care or concern. Why couldn't you get it through your thick skull that your feelings didn't matter anymore?! That they were being wasted on a lost cause. A lost relationship!

"Well I mean -," You started, running a hand through your hair as you tread carefully on your words. "I could come in tonight? Has Mr Kobashigawa got someone to fill for me yet?"

"Um... no? I don't think so?" Etsuko answered, uncertainty in her voice. "Let me go check. Be right back!" And with that, the line fell dead. The call didn't end, just Etsuko placing the phone down to get an answer for you. Leaving you all by your lonesome once more.

Reflecting, you could see the logic in your thoughts. The best course of action would be to hold your head up high and live life the way it was before. When you were happy. Just... excluding the factors that actually made you happy. Which was him. Wouldn't that be healthier than crying all the time?

Yes, it would. But was it what you wanted? Not really.

"L/N!" The voice in your ear startled you to the point you nearly dropped your phone, panicking through a gasp as you fiddled to grab hold of it again.

"Wa-! Careful you nearly scared me half to death!"

"Oops, sorry!" Etsuko giggled softy, sounding as perky as ever. "I'm just excited to tell you that nobody's filling in your shift! You can still come in for ten-thirty!"

"I-I can?" You asked. After an upbeat 'yeah!' filtered through your ears, you considered your options. Remaining in the serene, quiet confines of your car with only the downfall of rain to accompany you sounded like utter bliss, given how you felt. But you felt an internal kick up the backside which told you - no... demanded you to just get over this moping attitude of yours and look on the bright side. To get over the lack of closure and simply... move on.

Yeah... if he found out you were an utter train wreck thanks to the damage he inflicted; Katsuki Bakugou would probably revel in it. He had a history of gaining pleasure from other's misfortunes... or it was rumoured he did (during his younger years, anyway). You had never wanted to believe it but you couldn't find a reason to refute it anymore. After all you had been through, it seemed to fit his character and personality more than ever. So with that fact apparent, you held a firm forefront and searched for a determined tone, and made your answer to your friend.

"You betcha I'm coming in! I'll see you in half an hour!"

Too enthusiastic? Probably. Still, it was better than acting pessimistic and hopeless. No matter, however, because that was exactly the attitude Etsuko had been hoping for.

"Alrighty!" She exclaimed, smile audible in her voice from the other end. "I can't wait to get our dynamic duo going again! I've missed you!"

"Yeah, me too, 'Suko," You hummed in agreement.

"Great! Catch ya later my partner in crime,"

"Heh. You too, dumbass," You found a reason to smile from her childish behaviour, though your choice of wording seemed to hit a nerve. It did more than that, it practically reverted all that confidence and progress you had made in the last ten minutes of being on the phone. All from one innocent word that escaped your lips.

Dumbass.

That's what he used to call you.

The phone call had ended without you even noticing, your phone still pressed to your ear as a small buzz sounded into it. You stared dead ahead, flashes of all the times he had said that word to you running through your memory. It was his form of a pet name. Some might see it as a little degrading on the surface, but you never minded. Once you learned the deeper meaning of the name, it became something equivalent to the likes of 'Sunshine' or 'Angel'. If anything, you ended up preferring it to those sorts of nicknames. Hence why Katsuki Bakugou had called you it on so many occasions.

No. Stop it. You can't let something like that bother you. Not after the efforts you just went to. Stop. Shaking yourself out of it, you returned to reality and permitted your phone to drop onto your lap. Your hand once holding it gripped onto your steering wheel, the other following shortly behind to do the same.

"I love you too, even if you're a dumbass,"

That rung in your head one final time, tormenting and mocking your present. The things you'd be willing to do to hear him say that to you one last time...

"No," You firmly shook your head, banging it lightly against the headrest to return yourself to reality. An attempt to knock those words to the back of your mind where you could lock them in a securely tight safe for the rest of eternity. "Just... just don't think about it. Easy. Just focus on what you're doing now," You reached for your keys which sat in the ignition, taking hold and turning them ever so slightly. Your car stirred to life, engine rumbling and the dials lighting up in a form of warm greeting. "You're going to work. No more feeling sorry for yourself,"

No more feeling sorry for yourself.

Your eyes set themselves on the road ahead. The vacant, dark and solitary road that didn't wait for you to make your decision. Life moved on after all, so if you were going to do anything - it was to catch up and take the winning lead.

So despite your circumstances; your inner desires and wishes and begs for what you wanted back but to no avail would ever get, you pulled out of your parking space (which had long exceeded the time limit, thankfully nobody was around to see) that drowned in pitiful rains of the night, and began to make your way down the street. In search of a place better than the one you were trapped in.

An endless road that wasn't all that clear, you were going to tackle it. Not for anyone else, unlike the last time you met difficulty and hardships. No, no, no. This time it was for your sake. All the mental energy to recover and become a better version of yourself, in the endgame it was all for you. You could push past all the deceit and lies you had been told and you could push past your normality which was him. Katsuki Bakugou. The man that hurt you as nobody had ever done before. You could create new normality without him.

A thought of forever he created and destroyed, resorted to driving alone past his street, never to be thought of again.

#katsuki bakugō #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugou x reader #anime x reader #anime #x reader #angst #katsuki bakugou x female reader #katsuki bakugou x you #katsuki x y/n #katsuki bakugou

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