#jules needs his mouth web shut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

set-phasers-to-whump · 3 years

Text

i never knew how much it would hurt to feel (this building collapse on top of me)

prompt: buried

whumpee: shawn spencer

fandom: psych

hi and welcome to my very first psych fic! i finished the show a couple weeks ago and finally get to write it! since this is my first fic there is a high chance the characterization is not the best and i do apologize but as i write more it will improve! i hope you like this anyway! (first part of the title is from some kind of disaster by all time low)

Shawn and Gus are poking their way through a falling-down, long-deserted office building on the outskirts of town, looking for clues about the latest murder case that they’ve gotten themselves assigned to. Gus pokes his head through a doorway and immediately recoils with a yelp, hands scrabbling frantically at his face.

“Spiders!” he shouts, and Shawn shines the beam of his flashlight on Gus’ face.

“Spider webs,” he says, reaching out to brush them away. “Ooh wait, what’s this - a giant tarantula on the back of your head?”

Gus slaps his hand away, brushes his own hand across the back of his head to confirm that there isn’t really a giant tarantula lurking there, and frowns at Shawn. “If we don’t find any clues soon -”

“C’mon, man, you know it’s a process. This building has two more floors we haven’t even seen yet.”

“Two more floors that look like they might collapse at any second.”

Shawn can’t argue with that, especially when the next step he takes makes his foot sink a couple inches into a rotting floorboard. He gingerly pulls it out and prepares to concede to Gus about the top two floors of the building.

“Okay, fine, we don’t have to go up -”

The ending of that sentence is drowned out by a horrific crashing noise, and before Shawn has time to process what’s happening, what feels like several tons of stuff is falling down on top of him in the single most painful event of his entire life. He screams, and dust and pieces of who-knows-what fill his mouth and he coughs and his chest burns and he can’t quite breathe right because something is pushing down on him and everything is dark -

Ah. That would be because his eyes are closed, Shawn realizes, in a moment of blinding clarity. He opens his eyes, blinking rapidly in the dust, and sees...a whole lot of junk. Chunks of plaster and concrete and wood surround him in a sort of enclave, and if he looks out across his body he can see what’s causing the issue with his breathing - a very large, very heavy piece of concrete, probably some kind of support beam. Excellent, Shawn thinks. Being buried alive in a mountain of old office is exactly how I wanted to spend my day.

He’s trying to distract himself from the pain with this line of thinking, which is half-working. If he can just not focus on how much it hurts for a few moments, until he can make his hands cooperate and grab his phone, or until he has enough air in his lungs to call out to Gus -

Gus! Shawn is trapped in his own personal bubble of debris, and Gus isn’t here. Which means he’s somewhere else, maybe hurt even worse than Shawn is, or maybe even dead, but Gus isn’t allowed to die, not like this, not -

“Shawn!”

Thank god you’re alive, buddy, Shawn thinks at Gus’ voice, and then he thinks, oh man, I actually have to yell back to Gus so he doesn’t think I’m dead. He takes as deep a breath as his constricted lungs will allow, which hurts like absolute hell, and shouts, as loudly as he can, “Gus!”

“Shawn!” he hears Gus yell again, as he tries to ride out the wave of pain burning through his entire chest. Don’t make me yell again, he thinks, forcing himself not to cough despite the large amount of dust that has gotten into his mouth, because he thinks the pain of that might actually kill him.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to yell again - he hears shifting noises and knows that Gus is getting closer. He tries to think of a way to let Gus know exactly where he is without opening his mouth again, and then realizes that one of his arms disappears underneath the rubble currently boxing him in. His hand doesn’t feel like it’s buried, though, so he thinks that it must be on the outside, and maybe Gus can see it. He concentrates very hard and wiggles his fingers, taps them on the ground, and hopes that Gus is as close as he sounds.

And he is. A few seconds of wiggling and tapping pass, and then Shawn feels Gus’ hand touch his own. “Shawn?”

Shawn curls his fingers into the best approximation of a thumbs-up that he can manage.

“Okay, um, don’t move,” Gus says. Got it, Shawn thinks. Don’t exactly have anywhere to go. “I’m gonna...I’m gonna get you out of there.”

This seems like a pretty good plan to Shawn, except for one thing. He shuts his eyes and prepares himself to speak again.

“911,” he whispers, and hopes that Gus can hear him.

“Oh. Right,” Gus says, and Shawn hears the sounds of him dialing, and then explaining that his best friend is buried under debris in an abandoned office building on the edge of town.

“They say it’ll be about twenty minutes,” Gus informs him. “You’re not buried very deep, so I’m gonna try and get you out before then, okay?”

Shawn gives him another thumbs-up, mildly surprised by Gus’...lack of panicking. Not that he’s complaining, because honestly he’s pretty close to panicking himself, and at least one of them needs to remain sane at all times.

He lies there and listens to the sounds of rubble moving and Gus making various noises of effort to indicate the very difficult work he is doing. All the while, though, he’s talking to Shawn about, talking how stupid this idea was in the first place, and how he could be at work earning money to pay for the new TV in the Psych office instead, and about a million other little things that Shawn would ordinarily groan at and find some way to change the subject.

Now, though, he’s content to listen to Gus and distract himself from the fact that he feels like he’s been run over by a truck carrying a mobile home and then had the mobile home dropped on top of him for good measure.

It doesn’t actually take that long for Gus to mostly unbury him. There’s still some rubble surrounding him, but apart from the giant concrete thing lying across his chest, he’s basically free. He gives Gus the best smile he can muster in his current situation and wheezes out, “hey.”

“Hey,” Gus replies, checking his watch. “Help should be here in about seven minutes, if that lady at 911 dispatch was telling the truth.”

Shawn nods as best as he can, then experimentally moves his freed arms to the concrete currently crushing his chest.

“Don’t do that,” Gus warns. “The 911 lady said it would be too heavy and that trying to move it by ourselves might hurt you worse.”

But it hurts, Shawn thinks, petulantly, and this must show on his face because Gus says, “don’t give me that look, Shawn. She said if that beam was gonna crush you, it would have already, so you just have to wait.”

He really doesn’t want to wait. Maybe this beam isn’t going to crush him to death, but it’s making it very difficult to breathe, which in turn is making it very difficult to stay calm, which is then making it harder to breathe -

He needs to relax. Maybe if he closes his eyes for a few seconds...yeah. That sounds nice. He lets his eyes slip closed and tries to take a calming breath that does approximately nothing. But not two seconds later, his eyes are snapping back open.

“‘Ow,” Shawn mutters, as loudly as he can, as Gus smacks him across the cheek with a surprisingly strong hand.

“Don’t you dare pass out on me, Shawn.”

“Won’t,” he promises, reluctantly keeping his eyes open. How much longer do I have to keep my eyes open for, exactly? he wonders.

“When’s...help?”

Gus anxiously checks the time, as though he hadn’t just anxiously checked the time like two seconds ago. “The lady said twenty minutes. It’s been fifteen.”

Five minutes...he can make it five more minutes. Right?

“Talk...to me.”

“I was talking to you, Shawn. Until you decided to almost pass out on me!”

Shawn slowly shakes his head. “Wasn’t gonna.”

Gus shakes his head in return, like he doesn’t believe it, which is fair. But he keeps talking anyway. Shawn wonders whether it’s even possible for Gus to run out of boring things to say to keep people awake.

True to the 911 lady’s word, exactly five minutes later, help arrives in the form of a firetruck and ambulance. The paramedics immediately get to work on Shawn. In other circumstances, he’d maybe try and fight them on the whole precautionary c-collar situation, but they also give him drugs and an oxygen mask, and both of those things feel absolutely wonderful, so he decides to shut up and let them do what they need to do - namely, free him from his concrete prison.

Even with the drugs in his system, it hurts, which is surprising considering they’re removing the thing that’s hurting him. But it hurts almost as bad as the initial collapse of the building on top of him had, and it hurts more than actually being pinned under it had. He screams for all of two seconds of intense pain, and then the weight is completely gone and the pain stops and he falls silent with an “oh” of pleased surprise.

The move onto a backboard and into the back of the ambulance hurts, too, but far less in comparison. Shawn makes it through both of those events with only minor wincing and whimpering, and soon enough they’re on the way to the hospital, and Gus is talking to Jules on the phone, and the only source of pain at all is the iron grip that Gus is keeping on his hand.

aaa thanks sm for reading! hope the characterization wasn’t too abysmal and i hope you enjoyed :) i plan to write plenty more psych whump in the future so if thats what you enjoy you’re in luck!!!

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump6 #buried #psych #shawn spencer #my writing #i say things #this was fun! its been a minute since ive written for a new fandom

21 notes · View notes

proudbookaddict · 7 years

Link

Rescuing Miami

by Elle Boon

ALL HOPE IS GONE…Ando thought his life was over when his fiancée dies before they had ever had a chance to live the life they planned. After the devastation of her loss, he swears he will never risk his heart again. HIS SAVING GRACE…Years later he finds a woman who makes him believe that life might be worth living again. In turn, Jules finds the one man who makes her feel things she never felt before. CAN LOVE SURVIVE…When a cult targets Jules, will Ando finally realize that love is the most important thing in the world before it is too late?

http://amzn.to/2uCVpv3 GoodReads - http://bit.ly/2vlvwN9

Excerpt

“You’re awfully quiet. Are you sure you’re okay?” Jules asked as the sign for the hospital came into view. He nodded, taking a deep breath. “I’m fine, just thinking.” Turning to see how she was reacting to the situation, Ando decided to be honest with her, or at least marginally. “I lost my fiancée in a boating accident. She fell overboard, hitting her head. I held her while she…anyway, I don’t think this little scratch is going to do me in.” He touched the bandage, his fingers came away with a red stain. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine losing someone you love like that.” She pressed trembling lips together. Ando saw her eyes glitter with tears. Holy shit, this woman who didn’t know him or anything about his past was ready to cry for his loss. Without thinking he put his hand on her thigh. “It was a long time ago.” No longer did his heart squeeze at the words. No longer did he want to go back to the past and shake Melanie, demanding answers. No, only a sense of grief for the loss of life, hers and the child even though it wasn’t his, hit him. Jules swallowed audibly. “I’m still sorry. Losing a loved one, no matter how long ago, hurts.” He wondered who she’d lost and if it was a lover. His thoughts were cut off as she pulled into the ER entrance. “I can drop you at the doors and park, or park and we can go in together?” she asked. Realizing his hand was still on her thigh, he pulled back. “Park and we’ll walk in together. I’m not an invalid even though I seem to be bleeding like a stuck pig.” She laughed, easing the tension. “You really are, aren’t you?” They found a spot in the front as another vehicle pulled out. “Eureka,” Jules said while they waited for the SUV to move. “This must be our lucky night.” She then looked at his bloody bandage, then grimaced. “Or not,” she corrected. “Come on, woman, let’s get me stitched up so I don’t need to get a transfusion,” he joked, or at least hoped he wouldn’t need one. Hell, he honestly had no clue if he’d lost enough blood to need one. “Nah, you won’t need one of those. It only seems like you’ve lost a shitton of the stuff.” She reached for the door handle. “You ready?” “You bet. Let’s get this over with. I might need to hold your hand when they stitch me up.” He grinned. Hopping down she met him in the front of the pickup, engaging the alarm with a press of the keyfob. “I highly doubt that, but I’ll stick by your side just in case you pass out.” Ando couldn’t believe how easy it was to talk and joke with Jules, a woman he’d just met. Although it could be the knock to his head. However, he doubted that had anything to do with it. The emergency room was bustling with activity. Jules seemed to know several of the workers and was immediately recognized. If they’d been in Miami, he’d have been whisked back to a private area in minutes. Now, he sat in a chair filling out paperwork while the woman who’d brought him in chatted with a man who looked old enough to be her damn uncle, or dad, and Ando didn’t like it one damn bit. He finished the last of the paperwork, then got up to turn it into the nurse at the front. She glanced up, smiled then he was taken back to a small room marked triage made up of glass enclosures. Jules was still locked in a conversation with the older man and another had joined them. So much for her sticking next to him. “Your blood pressure is a little high,” the nurse said making notes. Taking a deep breath, he looked away from Jules and the spectacle she was making. He smiled at the middle-aged nurse wearing the red scrubs, thinking it was a truly poor choice in color choice. “Sorry, try it again. I was a bit nervous.” He steadied his breathing and thought of nothing in particular. “Much better.” She made the correction, then led him into another room down the hall after getting all his vitals. “Alright, the ER Doc will be with you shortly. I’d offer you something to drink, but just in case you need surgery, which I don’t think you will, we can’t just yet.” She winked. “Now, if you need anything just press this here button. My name is Louise.” The woman left as quickly as she ushered him in. He looked at the bed and the lone chair in the small cubicle they called a room, then decided the bed looked like the best option since he’d have to sit there when the doctor came in anyway. Pulling his cellphone out of his pocket, he decided to text his sister a pic of himself with the wound. If nothing else, she’d get a kick out of his predicament. Gia’s immediate response brought a smile to his lips. Only a sister would tell her brother it was an improvement to his regular ugly mug, followed by a ‘how you doin’ meme. He let her know he was fine, and would update on the number of stiches afterwards. Of course, she wants all the details, which he’d gloss over as best he could when he got home. The sound of the curtain being pulled open had him looking up from his phone to find Jules there. “Hey there,” Jules said. **** Jules tried to paste on a happy appearance, but being waylaid by one of the officers who’d worked the night she’d saved Marietta brought her mood south. To top it off, she then had to deal with Sean, a guy she’d dated off and on, more off than on asking her about Ando and her. Jeez, couldn’t a girl catch a break from all the drama? “Hey,” Ando said. If artic glare could describe the way his dark eyes stared at her, then that was what he gave her. “Sorry I left you earlier. That was one of the cops who was on duty on a case I was involved in. He was giving me an update on it.” She shut her mouth when he narrowed his eyes. “I thought you were an EMT?” In for a penny and all that she thought. “I am, but sometimes life brings you into situations out of your control. I was walking along the beach one night and stumbled upon a scene straight out of a nightmare. Suffice it to say, I inadvertently saved a young woman’s life.” When Ando opened his mouth to ask more questions she was sure, the curtain was pulled back, saving her from having to answer and relive the horrifying night again. “Good evening, Mr. Delgado. What do we have here?” Jules stood to the side while a man in scrubs came in, his name tag said his name was Dr. Torres. “Evening, Dr. Torres. I fell off the end of the boat dock and hit my head.” Ando indicated his head. Dr. Torres went through some routine questions and tests, then pulled the bandage away. “Looks like someone cleaned you up pretty good,” he stated. “Jules here is an EMT with Dallas Fire and Rescue.” Ando’s gaze landed on her. If she didn’t know better she’d swear he sounded proud of her. “I cleaned it out and made sure there wasn’t any foreign bodies in the wound, then got him here as quickly as safety allowed.” “You did a good job. Head wounds tend to bleed like a sieve. Let’s get you stitched up and out of here quickly, son.” She met Ando’s eyes as Dr. Torres and the nurse set up the instruments needed. “You doing okay?” Ando nodded. “Yeah, I can handle it. You gonna hold my hand?” Her breath stalled in her throat. “Sure.” The word came out breathlessly. “Alright, Suzy is going to clean it up a bit more just to make sure it’s one hundred percent clean. Not that I don’t trust your abilities, young lady, but we don’t want to have anything foreign inside there when we seal him up. I’d say you’ll have about five stitches.” Dr. Torres took off his gloves and made some notes while the nurse named Suzy came forward. “This is definitely going to hurt a little.” Her dark brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, true regret rang through in her tone. Ando held his hand out toward Jules. Without hesitation she took it, entwining their fingers. “I’ll hold still, just work quickly.”

Author Bio

Elle Boon lives in Middle-Merica as she likes to say…with her husband, two kids, and a black lab who is more like a small pony. She’d never planned to be a writer, but when life threw her a curve, she swerved with it, since she’s athletically challenged. She’s known for saying “Bless Your Heart” and dropping lots of F-bombs, but she loves where this new journey has taken her. She writes what she loves to read, and that is romance, whether it’s erotic, Navy SEALs, or paranormal, as long as there is a happily ever after. Her biggest hope is that after readers have read one of her stories, they fall in love with her characters as much as she did. She loves creating new worlds, and has more stories just waiting to be written. Elle believes in happily ever afters, and can guarantee you will always get one with her stories. Connect with Elle online, she loves to hear from you. Author Web & Social Media links:

www.elleboon.com

http://ift.tt/1zH833i

http://ift.tt/2bsjI1P

https://twitter.com/ElleBoon1

http://amzn.to/2eWWIsX

http://ift.tt/2aTzXHJ

http://ift.tt/1XR81FH

http://ift.tt/1eMO6Fp

http://ift.tt/1QIzAxt

http://ift.tt/1XR8CXV

http://ift.tt/20Uu4KV

http://ift.tt/2hWlQmN

presented by WLKBookPromotions.com

#IFTTT #Blogger

0 notes