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princessdimondheart · 8 months

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The Twins | Ghost x Wife! Reader

Pairing: Ghost x f! Reader + Their Twins

Warnings: 🔪- violence, terrorist act, blood, inaccurate medical scenes; 😭- fear, emotional stuff, family; 🥺- well deserved happiness

Edited: No

A/N: Simon’s mother doesn’t have a canon name so I decided it’s based off of a flower. You pick which one. Almost 8k words 😳. Part 2? Idk. Sorry it took so long! 😭😭

Masterlist

Character banner ©️ Me

Tommy brushed his short hair back like it would do anything. It was a standard military cut, close shaven but not exactly bald. When he had it cut- to get used to it he told himself- his twin sister, Violet, laughed in his face. Said he looked like an escaped inmate with the cut or someone from pre-Y2K. He pouted remembering it, he had yelled something about her blue-dyed hair being basic and threw a dirty sock in her face. She yelled and then grabbed his arm and proceeded to throw him over her shoulder. He really should have seen it coming. Her hard work in Tai Kwon Do really paid off. His back and ass hurt for the next few days.

Unfortunately, his poor mother paid witness to the little altercation. She was tired from a long shift at the hospital and was laying on their gray couch munching on Doritos. She only shook her head when he whined to her about Violet. She told him that if he wanted to join the army like he dreamed about, then he would have to toughen up and not complain about things whenever they went wrong. A distant look shown in her eyes. An old memory most likely; one of their long gone father, a military man, and one of the reasons why Tommy wanted to join. To follow in his father’s footsteps despite his job being the reason he wasn’t in their life anymore. He and his twin got quiet and then went their separate ways. They knew how much the loss of their father hurt their mother and they didn’t want to bring her any more pain by mentioning him when she’s emotionally drained from her shift.

When Tommy had told her that he wanted to join the army, his mother froze in shock before tears spilled from her eyes. A hand covered her sobs and her brow furrowed. He had never seen his mother cry before and it nearly had him spiraling. He rushed to hug his mother asking her what was wrong. When she calmed down, she pulled back and held his cheek in her hand.

“You’re just like your father. I knew something like this was going to happen but I wasn’t sure it would be so soon.” She wiped her tears with her other hand. “It’s okay, you can go if you really want to.”

He didn’t realize the tears building up in his eyes until they were running down his face. He was only 15 but he was already a head taller than his mother. She said he got his height from his father. Tommy had to tell her his decision because her permission was what would get him into the army when he turned 16. He had no other dreams, just the army and making his parents proud.

“Tommy! Are you done checking yourself out? We need to go to this last store before heading home.” Violet’s voice crashed his preening in front of a mirror in an H&M store. “The sun’s already set and we’re running late as it is.”

“Chill, Vi, we don’t always have to be punctual. Mom’s on shift anyways, we can go home at whatever time we want!” He looked at her through the mirror.

She rolled her eyes at him, scoffing, “says the boy that wants to join the army where punctuality is very important.”

Violet’s eye color was from her mother, in fact, all of her looks were from her, even her height except her eye shape was from their dad. Tommy was the one who was almost a carbon copy of their dad. There were slight variations in their looks, like skin tone and hair texture but nothing too different. He liked the fact that he looked like his dad. It made him feel closer to him in a way.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, let’s go so you can shut your whining. I am in the army.” Tommy mumbled the last part under his breath. He shoved a hand in his pocket and pushed the other in front of her face, wiggling his fingers for the bags she was holding. She handed them over when he moved his hand closer to her face and she swatted it away. Sure, he messed around with his sister but he was still a gentleman. His mother would fry his ass if he was anything but.

They were heading to Piccadilly Circus to look at the stores in search of a birthday present for their mom. It was coming up soon and they were running behind in the gift department. All other aspects of the little party they were planning were already put together, the only thing left was her gift. Now that he was in the army for just over a year, he had some money saved up and was planning on using it for her gift. That was the reason why he was here, he was on leave for her birthday next week. Violet suggested a nice pair of earrings and a necklace for her since she doesn’t really own jewelry other than her wedding bands. Tommy readily agreed.

The walk from H&M to the square wasn’t longer than ten minutes but they took their time window shopping along the way. The square was decently crowded, it was a Thursday after all and there were plenty of tourists and locals scurrying in and out of the shops. Tommy rubbed his hands together, it was cold that night. Unusual for the time of year but he assumed global warming was to blame. He really wished spring would finish up so summer could get here.

~~~~~

Ghost was methodically sharpening his knife on a whetstone when Price knocked on his door with a loud bang. His masked head whipped up and he gripped the knife tighter.

“Load up, Simon. My office, yesterday!” His voice was hurried and gruff. Something was going down and that made Ghost kit up faster than normal. Grabbing his gun he was out of his room in less than a minute.

In Prices office was the rest of 141, Gaz and Soap were kitted up in their tactical vests with their weapons slung over their shoulders. No one was sitting.

“We just got word that a terrorist plot is going to go down tonight at Piccadilly Circus. We’re going to head over there before it goes down.” Price shook his head. “Hopefully our presence deters them or we’re able to put a stop to them before anyone gets hurt.”

Gaz was reasonably upset. He had been there for the first attack on the square a few years ago. It was actually how he got into Price’s sights in the first place and joined the Task Force. “Again? Seriously?”

The Captain gave him a knowing look. “If it’s going to be an issue, you can stay here Kyle. You don’t have to go.”

“No-no, sir. It won’t be an issue.” Gaz sighed. “I just hope it turns out better than last time.”

Soap patted him on the shoulder. Price nodded at him and then walked to his office door.

“Let’s go!”

~~~~~

Violet had tugged on Tommy’s jacket and pointed out a jewelry store that seemed promising. Luckily it was still open so they both went inside. The clerk greeted them but wasn’t as attentive to them because of their youth. That is until they told her their budget. Typical.

She was looking into the bright glass boxes filled with different types of jewelry in gold, silver, diamonds or other precious stones. Tommy wasn’t really paying attention to her. He fiddled with his dog tags and the busted up ones that belonged to his father. They rested over his jacket. He’d hum and glance at a necklace she was pointing to but he was rather distracted. There was a small commotion just across the street near the metro entrance.

A black van pulled up and several men jumped out of it seemingly inconspicuous. He thought nothing of it until he saw a handgun sticking out of his waistband. Now, Tommy didn’t do that great in the section about their laws in school but he sure as hell knew that guns were illegal in their country. His brows furrowed, and Violet tugged at his sleeve once more to get his attention.

“Tommy! What’s with you?” She voiced her annoyance. “What are you looking at?”

She peered around him but didn’t notice what he was staring at so intensely. Tommy noticed that one of the men planted something on a nearby car parked on the street. He felt something go through his body. It was a feeling of cold and dread. Dread of what was most likely going to happen. What it was he didn’t have a clue. He just felt the cold chill his blood and goosebumps ran down his arms.

His eyes widened in shock and fear when one of the men pulled out an assault rifle from the truck. He only had a few seconds.

“Get down!” Was all he could manage to get out.

Tommy turned and grabbed his twin by her arms, pulling her into his body. The shots rang out directly towards them and in various directions. He vaguely remembered hearing a loud boom ring out. Screams spread around them. Tommy could only feel the burning sensations coming from his right arm, lower back and left leg. Violet’s screams were muffled by his jacket, the dog tags dug into her face. Her head had hit the ground hard despite Tommy covering it with his hand, and it throbbed in that dull way. Glass shattered around them and alarms were going off. They dropped heavily to the ground. Tommy’s body was covering Violet’s protecting her from the blaze of bullets still lodging themselves in the walls around them.

Violet screamed again as one land near their heads. Tears ran down both their faces. He tightened his grip on her.

“Violet- Violet, please.” He grunted. “It’s okay, we-we’re gonna be fine. Just lay down. S-stay quiet, yeah, you’re good, Vi.”

She was shaking. He was shaking. Although his body was prepared for going to war, his mind had yet to catch up. Although, Tommy wasn’t sure if it was nerves that was causing him to shake, the cold chill spilling through the shattered store front, or the blood seeping out from his wounds.

Violet felt wet but she couldn’t figure out what it was. At first she thought she had wet herself in fear but the feeling was coming from her torso. She turned her head as best as she could and saw Tommy grimacing in pain. Her eyes looked further down and saw the blood pooling under her. She wasn’t in pain.

“Tommy! Ta-Tommy, you’re bleedin’!” Her voice pitched high with alarm. She sobbed into his shoulder. Her hands tucked into her body pulled out and wrapped around his back. She held him tight.

“I-I’m fine, Vi.” He stuttered out. He was feeling weak from the blood loss.

“Don’t l-lie to me Tommy.” She hiccuped. “You’re s-shit at it.”

More explosions rang beyond the store. They shook the building they were in. Pieces of debris were falling from the ceiling, landing on and around them. Suddenly, various gunshots were fired in rapid succession and Violet worried that more terrorists had arrived. She hoped that the police or some anti-terrorist agency would arrive soon. Several minutes pass and the gunfire lessened until it finally stopped.

“Tommy? We can get up now, l-let me put pressure on y-your wounds.” Tommy wasn’t saying anything and that worried Violet. Her breathing quickened in her panic. “Tommy!? Get up! Tommy!”

Her hand reached up to push him off of her. It was a struggle as he had gained a significant amount of weight in muscle over the last year. He weighed a ton and when she was finally able to push him off of her, Violet was huffing even with her martial arts skills. Other times she’s able to pull him over her shoulder with momentum but now he was dead weight. God she dreaded the thought. Her shaking hands scrambled to his neck. Two fingers felt for his pulse and found a faint one. It fluttered but it was still there. She sighed in relief.

Violet tried to remember the first aid course that she took last summer that their mom’s hospital was offering to students interested in joining the medical field. She surveyed his unconscious body to find any wounds and when she found them all she got to work as best as she could. Violet took off her jacket and wrapped it around Tommy’s arm hoping to slow down the bleeding. Then she remembered that he had on a belt and so she took it off to tie around his leg. He unconsciously groaned when she tightened it. She couldn’t really put pressure on the wound on his back but she tried her best to keep a hand covering the wound. The bullet hadn’t gone all the way through and stayed lodged inside him. It wasn’t sanitary but it was the best she could do.

Her body continued to shake and she looked around the destroyed jewelry store. There were other bodies lying around. Blood was smeared on the shattered glass display where the lady was standing minutes before. The lack of pained noises sent a pang through her chest. More tears rolled down her cheeks and onto Tommy’s shuddering chest below her. She wished she hadn’t insisted on stopping by the other store instead of going straight here. They would have been home earlier. She wished she were the one injured and not Tommy. She was the oldest by a few minutes and it was her job to protect her little twin brother. She wished her mom was there to help Tommy. She wished her dad was there to help them get through this.

She cried and cried. Pain and sadness filling her up and boiling over in body racking sobs. Her hand gripped one of Tommy’s.

The silence was almost unbearable, until it wasn’t.

~~~~~

They were too late, again. The intel that they had been receiving lately was always a little too late than normal. Ghost knew that Price was gonna have a word with all the intelligence personnel when they were done with the mess that was before them. Gaz was pissed as his expression showed. They’d all seen similar scenes like this before but it always hurt more when it happens on home soil.

The police had arrived but were not as prepared as the Task Force, so they set up a perimeter not letting anyone in or out. They had dispatched all of the terrorists within a few minutes of them being in Piccadilly Circus. A few had lingered in the square while others had gone into some of the shops. Once the area was cleared and the police had began searching for survivors, Price had them doing the same.

“Soap, Gaz, go together and look for anyone still breathing on the north side. Ghost and I’ll stay on the south side of the square.” They split up and began their search.

Ghost passed a few bodies that weren’t alive. He saw the Captain flinch at the body of a child but he never said anything. Children were always hard in their line of work but for him it hit closer to home than what Ghost could ever understand.

“Hello? Is anyone alive?! We’re the army!” Price began to call out in hopes of an answer back.

There was silence yet it was loud. Sirens, alarms, and broken glass crunched underfoot and around them. They saw that the police and EMTs had found a majority of the survivors near them so they pushed further into the square. Price called out again and a muffled cry called back.

“Help! Help me please!” The feminine voice cried to them. Her voice pulled them towards her like a lifeline.

They ran to where the voice came from, a rather famous jewelry store that didn’t look as nice as before. The broken glass and bullet holes would turn anyone away. Ghost made it to the entryway first but Price stopped him with his hand. He gave him a look and went in first. Then Ghost remembered his skull mask and the fear it brought to people, especially civilians, so he waited until he was needed. The familiar crackle of the radio was heard faintly.

“Shite, get in here Ghost! They’re kids!” Great, another demographic that he wasn’t really good with. When he stood by them he realized that these kids were older than what he thought. They were teenagers.

Then, he froze.

Years of memories rushed through his mind in seconds. The sound of laughter… a certain hair color… the smell of her favorite perfume… her flowers, whose scent would waft up his nose whenever he came home. Things he so painfully remembered and yet chose to let go so as to not cause tremendous harm. A feeling that he had longed to never let go. He grasped at the tendrils for a short while before that dreadful night.

Those eyes… they were her eyes. At first he thought that she was kneeling there before him, but then remembered that more than a decade had passed and she would have changed in that time. Rarely had he seen her with tears streaked down her face. Or blood on her clothes…

Her look-alike cried out a sob and reality overtook his memories.

“Please, please help my brother he got shot.” The girl pleaded looking up as he walked closer. She wasn’t scared of him in the mask but she was for her brother. That’s when Ghost looked down.

Was he staring in a mirror? This boy. This kid. It was like looking at a photo of his younger self.

Clink.

Ghost’s eyes snapped to the sound of metal in Prices hand. He’d already done a glance over of the boy and decided that the girl did a good job of wrapping his wounds with what she had.

“Are these his?” Price asked the distraught girl.

“Y-yeah. Tommy just joined the army not long ago. Barely over a year in.” She breathed in deeply as if to calm her mind.

Tommy… he knew a Tommy once. His own brother. Every piece was coming together. He was one, and they were the other two. Just one was left…

“…and the other?” Price continued. He didn’t need to ask but he wanted to confirm the information he held. The cheeky bastard.

“It’s our fathers… or what’s left of him.” Those same eyes as her looked down. Sadness filled them. Sadness for himself, he realized. A father long gone. Those were the tags that he left behind in the wreckage. Now here they were… somehow returned to him.

Ghost hardly remembered when the ambulance pulled up in front of the store. Or when the EMTs moved Tommy onto the stretcher. But he did remember the smell of his blood and the salt in the air from her tears.

Price was able to convince the EMTs to let them go with Tommy and his sister. They weren’t happy about it but decided that armed men tagging along with them after a terrorist attack wouldn’t be so bad. He’d also radioed Soap and Gaz of their departure. They had found some victims buried under rubble and were trying to get them out with some firefighters.

Price whispered low enough for only Ghost to hear. “You doin’ okay, Simon?”

He didn’t know what to say. What could he say? His new-found daughter was siting across from him while his son lay injured, bleeding out from wounds caused by a terror act not thwarted by his team. He felt useless. Yet, he felt grateful that he was able to meet his children in a way. The situation was horrible, but that brought them together; and it was highly likely that if it had not happened then he would have never learned about them. He’d have probably died in combat before he ever heard whispers of them. No, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He would continue on the path placed in front of him, for now at least.

He just shrugged his shoulders and stayed silent. That must have been enough for Price as he just eyed him for a bit before looking down at what the EMTs were doing to stabilize Tommy.

“Oh!” Price jolted in realization. “We never got your name, love! So sorry.”

The girl looked up at them. She glanced at him then at John. Ghost must have looked strange sitting there in his black gear. They both definitely looked out of place in the ambulance.

“It’s fine. I’m Violet… Mister…?” She wasn’t stuttering anymore but her voice was subdued and scratchy from her crying.

“Call me John, young lady.” He nodded at her. “And this is Ghos-“

“Simon, will do.” He had no idea why he cut him off or why he gave her his name, but it brought a grin to Prices lips.

“Oh, it’s like my da-“ The ambulance coming to a stop cut her off and the EMTs began off-loading the gurney.

They moved themselves out of the way and followed closely behind as he was rolled into the emergency department. There were other ambulances dropping off patients from the attack. EMTs, doctors and nurses were coming in and out, and there was a heavy police presence at the entrances.

Inside was more chaotic. The hospital was in Code Orange for mass casualty or disasters.

Patients lay in gurneys as nurses and residents tended to them. Many of the dead rested under blood soaked sheets, yet to be moved to the morgue. Blood pooled on the white floors, some of it was stepped on and tracked throughout the rooms. Cleaning workers did their best to mop up the evidence of the nights tragedy. Very few had minor injuries. Friends and family were there searching for missing relatives. One of the smarter police officers began a missing persons board and had them write descriptions of the missing.

As Violet stepped through the automatic door, she saw her mom finish tending to an older lady who had been grazed by bullets and suffered a concussion when she fell over. She fiddled with her gloves. It was loud in there but when she called for her mother, the older woman’s head shot up in fear.

“Mom!”

Hearing this, Ghost’s eyes scanned the crowd. He had to find her. A face he hadn’t seen in years, unless he counted the similarities with his daughter. It wasn’t so hard. He’d recognize her face if he was blind and only had his hands to see.

She was older, of course, but no less as beautiful as he remembered. Her hair was styled differently, likely due to her job, but still shined healthily. Her scrubs were in her favorite color and a blood stained white lab coat donned her body. She wore blue gloves and a face mask as she tended to her patients.

“Violet!” She speedily walked to her daughter, passing between other doctors and nurses. Fingers tugged on latex and she dumped the gloves in a garbage can filling up with similar bloody items. Her hands rested on Violet’s shoulders as she couldn’t hug her with all the blood on her.

She gasped when she saw Tommy.

“Tommy!” She cried and tears flooded her eyes. Her hands went to his cut up face. “You were there?!”

An EMT asked her to help them. “This patient needs immediate care, doctor!”

“I-I’m sorry. I’m too close to the patient.” She stuttered.

She looked around her in the chaos for a free doctor. She hardly noticed the two armed men hanging back. Her eyes stopped on her colleague. He had worked as a doctor for over forty years and had done thousands of surgeries. He had been a great mentor to her since she first started working at this hospital.

“Jack! Dr. Yates!” She called over to him loud enough for others to look over. The older gentleman startled but made a bee-line for her. When he was close, she grabbed a part of his white sleeve. “Please, doctor, help my son. I’m too close to work on him properly.”

The grayed man gave a look over Tommy and had them immediately push him to an open operating room. He grasped her upper arm. “Don’t you worry your brilliant mind, sunny. We’ll get him spick and span in no time. Take a break for a few minutes, you’ve been running around since 5 this mornin’.”

Letting go, she only nodded along as they wheeled Tommy away. She allowed a tear to fall. It dripped onto the floor, mixing with other bodily fluids that fell from their patients. She tried not to let her fear of her losing another person get to her.

Not again. Not here. Not now.

“Mom?” Violet called for her worried about her sudden silence. She tugged on the back of her white coat, which was still white, surprisingly. That got her moving.

“Violet? Are you alright? You’re okay, right? There’s blood all over you!” She inhaled once. “Do I need to get you som-“

“Mom! I’m fine! Honestly!” Violet interrupted, her bottom lip wobbled. “T-Tommy protected me. He saved me, mom!”

She sobbed harder than before and her mom, now not caring for the blood, pulled her in for a tight hug. They clung to each other desperately. Violet was shorter than her mom so she was able to burry her face into her neck. Tears wetting her skin and clothes.

Movement behind them, made her look up, unsure if anyone else needed help. It was the two men that had come in with Violet. She had not really noticed them before because all her focus was directed to Tommy and Violet; her two most important things in life. Both had some blood on, what she now realized was military kits, and they stood there in silence carrying their weapons slung over their shoulders. One wore a funny fishing hat and the other had a rather fitting face mask for the overall mood of the day. The skull plated mask hid the face underneath. Her eyes lingered and he caught her gaze.

Ghost stared at his once-wife in the eyes. The eyes that would always making him feel like he was falling deeper into her soul. She spoke but his ears weren’t working. Price answered and his hand whacking his arm made him blink twice and their staring ended when she looked at Prices hand.

“No, we’re fine… Doctor…?” Price answered her worries of injury.

“I’m Doctor-“

“Dr. Riley!” A nurse interrupted her. Ghost felt his chest tighten. She’d kept his name. “We need you here! He’s code blue-ing!”

She sprang from her daughters arms. “Coming! Violet go to my office and stay there for me, please. I’ll be back soon, hopefully.”

Violet nodded before her mom ran off to where the patient had just rolled in. She jumped onto the gurney and began chest compressions. The EMTs continued to the elevator and up to the operating rooms like nothing had happened. More nurses followed them into the large elevator. Her mom pumping that mans chest was the last she’d see of her for the next few hours.

She was still a Riley. His Riley. After all these years, he remembered her saying that she wanted to keep her maiden name for her doctor status. He was always okay with that and knew she’d never change her mind, despite her taking his name, although hyphenated, when they married. He wondered what made her change her mind. Then he remembered that he had ‘died’ several months before her graduation as a resident. He reminisced on how he snuck in to see her one last time at the ceremony before running away to the battlefield.

Price eyed Ghost as he stood there staring at the closed elevator doors, even when they opened as another body was taken down to the morgue. He looked tense, brows furrowed, pained, and understandably so. His whole life just flipped over and over in the matter of a few hours.

But then Ghost glanced at his hands. Bloodied hands. Tommy’s blood. Then to Violet and then back again to the dried blood. The blood of his only son. It dawned on him that he almost lost him. Almost her. Both of them could have been stripped of their lives. And so easily too. He hardly knew them and that hurt him even more.

“Ah… let’s escort you to your mums office, yeah?” Price called to Violet, who was also spacing out.

She wiped her face and nodded. She led them to the stairwell and they climbed up two stories. Several corridors down and they were in a decent sized office. Price told them he would get them some snacks and drinks at the vending machines he saw awhile back. Ghost knew he was giving him time to talk to Violet. He was somewhat grateful and annoyed that Price knew what he needed.

They both sat down on the cushioned chairs. Violet flung herself down with a loud sigh. She was drained both mentally, physically and emotionally. She wanted this nightmare to be over.

“You’re Violet, right?” His deep voice asked and Violet’s eyes drifted upward. He’d heard her name multiple times, was even introduced, but he needed the confirmation again.

“Yeah, I’m Violet… why?” She looked a bit confused, brow raised just like her mother used to give him.

His chest tightened and he felt like he couldn’t get the words past his lips but he forced himself to. There was no better time than right now. “I- I just know your mum… that’s all.”

“Really? Why didn’t she recognize you?” She asked but Ghost pointed at his masked face and she blushed. “Oh, right.”

The silence was awkward for a moment before Violet spoke, surprising Ghost with her words.

“Well… I like your mask. Kinda edgy. It’s actually pretty cool… for an old man.”

“How do you know I’m old?” Ghost tilted his head slightly.

Violet scoffed and crossed her arms, leaning back into the chair. “You know my mom, so you’ve gotta be old.” Ghost almost rolled his eyes; she was gonna be the death of him. Then she looked contemplative.

“Do you think Tommy will still be able to be in the army?” She looked at his eyes, her brows furrowed even more. “It’s been his dream for the longest and now that he’s in, I don’t think he’d ever get out… but if he’s discharged, I think that’ll hurt him the most.”

Ghost didn’t say anything right away so she continued her little rant. “Mom tried to get him to go to uni, but his heart was set on the army ever since he learned that our dad was in. He held onto that dream for so long and when mom let him go, well, I’ve never seen him so happy…”

Her breath shortened as tears ran down her face. “I—I should have been paying more attention. It’s my fault. I have no situational awareness, damnit, even Tommy’s told me that before. If I’d noticed sooner or realized what was going on, he wouldn’t be hurt. I’m the older twin. I should be-be the one taking care of him!” She sobbed harder.

Ghost came to kneel in front of her. He took her hand that was twisting her bloody shirt. “It’s not your fault. You, nor anyone there, knew what was about to happen. Terrorists have no regards for the lives of the innocent while doing things that would harm them.”

“Tommy’s hurt but I can tell that he’s strong. I’ve been hurt like that before and I healed up fine. Plus he has even greater care here. They’ll take care of him and you only need to keep your head up and know that Tommy’ll pull through.” He continued. “He’s young so he’ll bounce back well enough to return to his unit. Don’t you worry your pretty lil’ head ‘bout that.”

“Thanks.” She laugh-cried. “But it’s hard to take you seriously with that mask.” She giggled.

Ghost huffed. “Well, Tommy pulled some heroics back there saving you. Might even earn a brag rag with the right recommendations…”

Violet’s confused head tilt made him explain the meaning. “It’s a medal.”

Her eyes brightened. “You’d do that?”

He hummed. “Captain Price might put in a good word too, but yeah, he deserves it.”

There was a sudden and somber silence. His hand gripped his knee to prevent it from bouncing.

“Ah… any plans for uni? Or something…?” Bollocks, how the hell do you talk to a 17 year old girl, who is also your child but doesn’t know it? Improvise… he guessed?

Violet told him that she was debating going to vet school or medical school to become a surgeon like her mother. She wasn’t sure which university she would apply to.

“Tommy keeps teasing me that I should join him in the army as a field surgeon. But… um, I think I wanna help out people in our community here.” She chuckled softly. “I told him that if he ever got hurt he could come to me to patch him up, but that I’d have to hurt him again for even getting injured in the first place.”

Ghost smiled under his mask. Mask. His mask?

Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly. Perhaps one too many whacks to the ole head. Or maybe it was the high of meeting his long lost children for the first time. Ghost wasn’t sure what it was…

His hand reached up, curling under the bottom of his balaclava, and pulled the black cloth over his head in one tug. The higher it went, the more his chin, lips, nose, cheeks, eyes, and hair was revealed.

Violet’s breath hitched as she took his face in. Her eyes roamed over every feature and scars. She knew this face, from the back of her mind she knows that this face is like the one going through surgery right now. Like the one in the frame sitting on her mother’s desk right in front of her. Tears began to burn her eyes but did not fall. Her lip wobbled.

~~~~~

“Violet, I am your father…” Simon’s eyes stared into hers for a moment before closing tightly. His brows scrunched together and his lips tugged into a fine line.

“Was t-that a Star Wars reference? Or are you being serious?” Violet asked confused, burning tears finally falling.

“You’ve seen Star Wars?” Stop deflecting, Simon!

“What?! Don’t change the subject Mr. Simon!” She gasped, her eyes widening. “Mister… Simon. Simon. Simon?”

“Yeah?” He asked, swallowing hard.

“This doesn’t make sense! I-I must be hallucinating. Maybe, maybe I actually did die or something.” Violet’s voice shook. She closed her eyes and moved her head side to side. There was a subtle shake to her body. “Nope! This is not fucking real! You’re supposed to be dead! Dead, I tell you!”

Oh god, she’s reverting back to her drama club days.

“Umm… language?” Not the time to reprimand her for her words. “I mean. Sorry. It’s… It’s just a really, really long story. I actually don’t know how I’d tell-“

“Daddy!” Violet sobbed and before Simon could comprehend it, the teenager had her arms wrapped around him as much as she could with his size and body armor.

The shock in his eyes softened with her continued sobbing. It struck him in his heart. All the walls he’d built since before joining the Task Force began to crumble. Piece by piece, chunks began to disintegrate. His own eyes burned with tears that hadn’t fallen in years. It was almost a relief when they did start to fall. They dropped onto Violet’s shoulder and rolled down her back.

Simon didn’t know how long they held onto each other for. Hours or days could pass but he would rather still be in the newfound embrace of his daughter. Violet had settled into soft sniffles and little hiccups, eventually falling asleep in his lap. His own tears had dried, for now, leaving streaks down his cheeks. For a moment, it felt peaceful despite the chaos several floors down and a few streets away. His arms tightened around Violet. He wasn’t sure if he could ever let her go…

His eyes staring off into the wall flashed to the door when it was pushed open. And there she was.

~~~~~

Dr. Riley sighed as the sound of the EKG flatlining continued. They had initially brought the patient back from cardiac arrest and proceeded with the surgery. However, in the last fifteen minutes he began to show signs of another cardiac episode. The nurses and she had tried their best but unfortunately the patient’s wounds were too much for his body to handle.

Pulling off her bloody gloves and dumping them into the hazardous waste disposal, she told the nurses to take a breather since they’d been going at it for hours by that point. Hell, her shift had long been over when her daughter and son had arrived but she had stayed. She couldn’t bear leaving while knowing that many people were suffering. She’d seen over a dozen patients when the casualties started pouring in, almost tripling her patient count for the day.

A quick change of clothes in a designated room and she was walking back to her office. Eerily, the floor her office was on was quiet. There were other busy wards here but the chaos was concentrated downstairs. She heard her crocs squeak on the polished floors. It used to make her blush at the loudness of the sound but now she couldn’t give a fuck. Her patients needed her, damnit! As if a squeaky shoe would hold her back from reaching her patients on time just because she was embarrassed by the sounds.

Reaching the door to her office, she noticed that the light was on letting her know that Violet had made it in one piece.

“Hey, Violet, are you hungry-!” Her eyes widened in mild confusion and concern at what she saw, before glaring slightly. “What the fuck?!”

Her Violet was in the arms of a strange grown man, she been crying, clearly as they stained her cheeks. She nearly lost her top and yelled more before focusing on the man’s features.

It was like seeing a ghost.

He said something but it was like cotton balls were stuffed into her ears. Whatever it was she probably needed to see an otolaryngologist. She felt something fall down her face and along her neck and into her clean scrubs. Her vision blurred. She wasn’t sure if it was from tears building up or her body moving quickly in their direction.

~~~~~

Simon called for her by name. He hadn’t said it in a very long time. It honestly hurt him to. After all, he had left her alone and with his children no less, although he hadn’t known. He’d spent some time thinking about it while holding onto Violet. If he would have stayed had she been able to tell him about them. He would like to think that, yes, he would have stayed, but Simon wasn’t sure if his own insecurities and trauma related to his abusive father would push him from wanting to claim such a responsibility.

She stared blankly at him. Her dull and tired eyes worried him. He knew she’d had a long and hard day. Simon missed the shine in her eyes from long ago. He was starting to feel strange with her gawking. He shifted in his seat as softly as he could to not disturb Violet.

The movement seemed to awaken her and gave her the strength to move closer to him. But her knees weakened and Simon had to outstretch an arm in order to catch her. A loud sob fell from her lips. Slightly chapped due to lack of time to care for them that day. The jerkiness of his movement woke up Violet and when she saw her crying mother in the arm of her dad, her tears renewed.

“Mom!” She tasted salt. The words were taken from her.

Simon pulled her up into his lap too, before tightening his arms around both of them. Both of his girl’s hands were clutching him equally as tight. They were all breathing heavily and their bodies shook with each sob, with each inhale and exhale. Simon rested his head against theirs. Fingers tangled in their hair.

After they all calmed down a bit, Simon began to explain what happened all those years ago. What happened to his family, why he left, and that if he had known that he was going to be a parent that he would have taken the time to think things more carefully before doing anything drastic.

She raised her hand against his stubbled cheek. “It’s not your fault, Simon. I should have told you about the pregnancy sooner. I-I just wanted to surprise you when you came home, but…”

He knew the ‘but,’ he never came home. Only a news article about a whole family dying in a house fire. Dog tags left to be found hours later. His only living ‘relative’ was his father.

He needed to stop thinking about his father, who he believes may or may not still be around. But those fears of being like him as an adult presented as usual. It was a constant struggle to let those feelings go. Feelings of inadequacy surfaced and since his face wasn’t covered as usual, it was easier to see by his frown and furrowed brow.

She recognized that look on his face despite the many years apart. She held his face in her palm. He leaned into it, his own hand coming up to hold hers closer to him. The look in her eyes told him all the reassurances that he craved.

Violet watched all this in awe. Never would she have thought that she’d be witness to the love between her mother and father. She tucked herself closer to her father’s chest. Violet had grown even more tired after the attack and the crying. Her eyes drooped and a sigh left her lips as she fell asleep. Simon’s arm subconsciously pulled her closer.

It felt like hours but only thirty minutes had passed before Dr. Riley got restless. She tapped Simon on the shoulder.

“I should go check if there are any updates on Tommy.” She said and Simon, reluctantly, let her go. “I’ll come back if there’s any news. And I’ll bring you both something to eat. Surprisingly, the cafeteria has a decent sandwich selection.”

Ghost nodded and readjusted his grip on Violet to hold her with both arms.

“I can have a cot brought in if you want?” She looked lovingly between the two. A soft smile tugged at her lips.

“Ah… I think I’m fine, for now at least.” His pale cheeks flushed. He just couldn’t let his little girl go. Especially not when she’s sleeping so peacefully in his arms.

She nodded and left the room.

During that time, his phone had buzzed and a text from Price glowed back at him. He texted that he had the next few days off and to not come in to work for any reason other than emergencies.

Simon texted back a simple, “Okay.”

~~~

Dr. Riley returned with food in paper bags and good news. Tommy was in post-op and was being moved to a private room soon. She told Simon that she could take them there. So, Simon stood with Violet in his arms, who surprisingly has not been awoken by the move. His arms were under her knees and back.

They had arrived before Tommy so Simon took the time to survey the room. It was rather large with a couch on each side of the room. His love told him that they pulled out into beds if they wanted to use them. Simon lowered Violet onto the blue couch, resting her head on the pillow and covering her with the provided gray hospital blanket.

Thirty minutes later and Tommy was rolled in by a team of nurses. The principle doctor residing over his care began to explain the next steps in Tommy’s recovery. It felt like a lot but Simon was intimately familiar to the process due to his own previous injuries.

Afterwards, his love was finally able to rest so she sat next to him on the other blue couch. There was distance between them and Simon couldn’t get his body to melt into the soft couch. He could feel her glancing at him from the corner of her eyes. He spied her hand inching towards his. His eyes looked and then looked away. He argued with himself to just grab hers. He finally said ‘fuck it all’ and just wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her whole body closer.

A soft squeak escaped her lips. He buried his face into her hair and breathed in deeply. It still smelled like her shampoo. She melted into his embrace.

“Simon?” He hummed. “I don’t know how, but, thank you.”

He looked her in those eyes that kept him awake at night. “Of course.”

~~~

Two days later…

~~~

Bleary brown eyes fluttered open. He took several moments to blink away the crust on his eyes. The blindly white room was dark with only a soft amber lamp glowing in the far corner. He felt like his body was stuck to what he was laying on. He looked down and saw white sheets.

A flash of dark movement caught his eye from one of the pull out beds, fully stretched out and occupied. He shifted his stiff neck to see who or what it was.

He saw his own eyes.

Maybe he was dead. After all, he swore he saw his father sitting there by his mother. He tried his hardest but the sedatives won the battle. His tired eyes blinked slowly before finally closing. His breath evening out in slumber.

Wide brown eyes stared at the monitor. Only relaxing when the machine kept beeping at a constant rate. Then, Simon laid back down and clutched her closer. She sighed and moved closer to him. And damn was he happy in that moment.

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keys-hellscape-1020 · 11 months

Text

You’re a healer, not a fighter. And yet…

Enjoy more stitch y’all sorry it took me so long. Also the title for this is SO bad I’m so sorry.

Platonic!141 x Medic!reader

Tw: Canon typical violence, cursing, gore, blood, Background character death, explosions, grenades, heavy smoke, reader is dissociating, implied that reader is having a panic attack, military inaccuracies, light angst, hurt/comfort.

You hate, nay despise, when you get separated during missions. If history holds true, and it always does, it won’t end well.

You are currently stuck in a small room, well stuck is a strong word as you do have 2 possible exits, it’s just that neither is very promising.

The slightly more promising of the two is a small rectangular window on the other side of the room, about 6 feet away. You’re not sure if you could get your torso through, and even if you did, if the 5 story drop didn’t kill you the enemy that was swarming the building certainly would.

The other exit was a hallway, leading back the way you fled from. You were crouched in a corner that bordered the door, gripping your gun tightly. There was no cover in the room, simply beige walls and that dammed window.

Suddenly a loud noise crackled from your comms, causing you to fumble to quickly turn it down a few notches. “Stitch! Stitch are you there? We almost have the case!”

You shuddered in a breath, carefully watching the door as you lifted one hand up to your radio to respond. “Sounds good Soap. I’m currently pinned on the 5th story, no visual on the enemy.”

“Stitch do you have any way to get out of there? We are pushing on 7th story.” That was Price, you could hear the sounds of a firefight in the background.

“I’ll find a way around.”

“Copy that, repo quickly.”

You carefully came out of your corner, crouching near the door you grabbed the doorknob, quickly flinging the door open.

The moment the door opened it was filled with bullets. You ducked behind the wall, grabbed a grenade from your gear pulled the pin and hoped.

When you heard a loud explosion paired with a choir of screams you leapt into the doorway, your gun posed in front of you.

You quickly took care of the few enemies you could see between the smoke and rubble. After a moment of no movement you moved forward to the rubble.

Crouching down you looked at the one solider who was still alive from your assault, half buried under rubble. He was a big fucker.

“Fuck off.” He growled at you as blood ran down his face.

You assessed him with a critical eye. His injuries would prevent him from moving very far. If you moved all weapons away from his reach he wouldn’t be a threat. That is assuming he lives.

You leaned over him to grab his sidearm from its holster on his side. As you leaned over he grabbed your arm with one hand and your shoulder with the other.

In any other circumstances he would’ve been able to break your arm, but he was injured and you were on high alert. You quickly tore his side arm from its holster and drove it into the side of his head, knocking his grip off of you.

Pointing his gun at his forehead you growled, “I am showing you mercy. Do not make me regret it.”

Breaking you out of your focused state was your radio, crackling to life loudly on your chest.

“STITCH! DON’T- THE EMEMY- TRAP”

The enemy used your shock to his advantage, grabbing your elbow and attempting to pry the gun from your grasp. You however were still faster despite your shock. You ram you head into his, causing him to let go of your elbow. You then pull your knife from its sheath and drive it home in the side of his neck.

With his blood staining your hands you turned to respond to your radio, ignoring the enemy’s gurgling in the background.

“What about the enemy? Do you have the case?” You asked, concern growing in your chest.

“STITCH” That at least you could tell was Price.

“Captain? Captain what’s going on?” You asked frantically, you had to fight the urge to run to them. If things were going wrong getting yourself hurt would not help anyone.

Suddenly your radio was full of very loud static. You fiddled with the channel, hoping it was just a technical error, but the longer you tried to get a connection the more you lost hope that it was simply a technical error.

You feel the blood drain from your face as the reality of the situation hit you. Your boys were captured. You quickly switch your mic off. Damnit.

Alright think. Your boys still have to be in the building, there’s no way they got them out already. You know they were heading to the 7th floor. The enemy will most likely be taking them up to the roof to lift them out. You just had to intercept them in time.

That is assuming they’re not dead.

But there is no time to think like that. They can’t be dead. If they’re dead you’re going to drag their sorry asses back to the living world and kill them again.

You quickly look around in the rubble, there has to be something here you can use. The corpse of an enemy solider catches your eye. They’re about the same build as you and while their uniform is splattered in blood it would do the job well enough.

You quickly pull on their jacket and vest along with their helmet. You could only hope that would be enough, you had to move.

————

You found the stairwell on the 5th floor, once you executed your plan you would have to move quickly or face loosing your boys forever.

You quickly started climbing the stories, you keep marching forward undisturbed until you got to the 8th story, when you were met with two guards.

“Who the fuck are you?” One of the guards shouted at you, pointing his gun at your head.

You quickly raised you hands in the air, it was vital they thought you one of them. “We- were attacked. 5th floor. Everyone is dead.” You croaked, forcing tears into your eyes and tightening your throat.

The two guards looked at each other, back at you, then lowered their guns a few inches.

“Where on the 5th floor was this and when?” One guard questioned, narrowing their eyes at you.

Fuck. You thought it was on the western side but you couldn’t be sure. No more that 10 minutes could’ve passed since it happened, but how could you be certain?

You couldn’t be, you just had to take a guess and hope you were right. “Western side.” You shuddered, hoping you weren’t overdoing your acting. “It- it just happened. No more then 10 minutes ago.”

“We just lost contact with a group on the eastern side. You know anything about that?” The guard shot you a suspicious glance. The other one fiddled with their trigger, glaring at you.

Fuck it.

You grabbed the one who was fiddling with their trigger and pulled them in front of you, using them as a human shield against their friend who sprayed a wave of bullets at you on instinct.

You pushed one guard into the other, and while they were reeling from the shock of having their friends mutilated corpse pushed into them you grabbed your knife and rammed it into the side of their head, aiming at the lisp of their helmet and angling upwards. So much for the plan.

There were footsteps coming down the stairwell, you had to act fast. Quickly you stash your knife in its sheath before pulling out your gun and firing it at the entry to the 8th floor, shouting expletives.

A team of 6 rounds the corner on high alert, they’re looking where you’re shooting and not at you, good.

“They went that way!” You shout, gesturing towards the door with a nod of your head.

“Move!” The leader barked, rushing towards the door. You pressed yourself to the wall, watching as they filed into the empty floor.

Once the coast is clear and the last of the enemies are through the door you turn around to creep carefully yet quickly up the rest of the stairs.

You manage to move up the next two flights of stairs without difficulty. You make your way to the floor right below the roof and listen carefully, your ear perched right up against the door.

You are met with the sounds of very angry, very Scottish yelling. You let out a shallow sigh of relief. Just as you suspected your boys are still in the building, now the hard part. Getting them out of it in one piece.

You wait at the door a moment longer listening for any clues, you fail to hear any coming from beyond the door, but you do hear one from above.

Carefully, and ever so slowly, cracking the door to the roof open, you are met with exactly what you expected. A helicopter is slowly descending to the platform on the roof, surrounding said platform is at least 5-8 enemy soldiers.

While not great you can work with these conditions, and that’s what you plan to do.

Not that you have much of a choice.

————

You quickly run to the floor they’re holding your boys and in a moment of fuck-it-I-have-nothing-to-loose (you’re lying to yourself you have everything to loose), you charge in, slamming the door to the wall.

You immediately stand at attention, and direct your eyesight to the man you hope you are correctly assuming is in charge.

When no bullets start firing at you you realize they are waiting for you to speak.

“Sir!” You bark out. “The heli is waiting on the roof sir!”

An old, short man turns to focus his eyes on you. You feel the cold sweat gathering on your neck as he fails to say anything, you swear that in the moment you could feel him cracking open your chest and feasting inside. Discovering all your secrets, uncovering all your sins.

Then he speaks, “bout damn time! Have the rest of your team come down. Escort these damn prisoners the fuck out of here!”

You turn to report to the rest of your fake team when a sense of dread hits you like a cold water ballon.

The messenger they would be sending. To alert the old fucker about the heli landing. That you already told him about.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!!” You hiss out quietly to yourself, two seconds away from stomping your foot and pouting like a child.

Your panic is cut short however when the door to the roof opens. You quickly snap to attention as the solider heads towards you, fixing you with a scalding glare.

“What are you doing?” They question. You feel like they are a priest, pulling all your sins out of you one by one.

“I’ve been assigned to guard here, on account of the enemy solider running amok.” You say stoically, puffing out your chest in a crude imitation of a loyal solider, proud to be guarding their commander.

The other solider briefly stares at you, before gesturing for you to get out of the way. Fuck there’s nothing you can do. Any attempt at taking them out would surly be heard. Fuck it- there’s nothing you can do.

You step aside.

————

It feels like a lifetime as you wait for a sound, a whimper, a pen dropping, an indication of what your next move should be. It feels like a lifetime as suddenly the door you’re standing next to bursts open.

You are guided by instinct as you fire a bullet into the head of the solider who had opened the door. You duck low, pull the pin on a grenade, and throw it into the room.

You are shaken by the proximity of the explosion, and your ears are ringing fiercely. You push forwards anyway, and once you are well hidden by the smoke in the room you duck behind the remains of a pillar. You hear movement and you quickly peek out form behind it, firing wildly. It is only another moment before the smoke begins to clear enough that you can see.

You glance around cautiously, and see that every solider in this room is dead, remarkably there are fewer corpses then you expected. The only option for where your boys could be is behind a door on the other end of the room.

You can hear yelling coming from it.

You can hear footsteps from behind you.

You slam the door behind you shut, amazed it’s still on it’s hinges. You grab a chair and shove it beneath the handle. You hope that buys you enough time to get your boys out because otherwise you’re doomed.

You approach the door, your gun posed in front of you, and kick.

The door holds.

You kick again.

The doorframe splinters under the force with a shrieking groan and the door swings open.

You are met with the man who you had addressed before, holding a pistol to Price’s head. All of your boys are in the room, looking like they had been thrown in haphazardly, their arms tied behind their back and their legs held together by zip-ties.

You creep one foot into the room before the old fucker shouts out, “Stop! One more step and I blow his brains out!” As he speaks he kicks Price, not hard enough to send him to the ground, but he still lets out a small grunt of pain.

“Hands off him ye’ wanker!!” Soap shouts out from one side of the small room. He pulls against his bonds with a groan, but does not accomplish anything.

Suddenly a loud shout and a bang is heard from the farthest door. You are forced to turn around, your gun held high, as you hear the enemy continue to struggle to get in.

“You’ll be dead soon. Surrender and maybe I’ll go easy on-” suddenly his speech dissolves into a blubbering mess of groans and hiccups, all began by the distinct sound of metal sinking into flesh.

You whirl around, panicked, only to see your Captain standing over the fluttering body of the enemy commander, holding a small pocket knife.

He glances at you over his shoulder before speaking, “Hold the door, I’ll get them out.”

You do as he says, moving to crouch behind a pillar, gaze trained on the door.

“Sir,” you call out over your shoulder, “enemy heli on the roof.”

Price makes a noise of acknowledgment and quickly crouches down next to you behind the pillar, an enemy gun in his hands. You barely notice Ghost, Soap, and Gaz moving to shelter on the other side of the room before the door bursts open with a sense of finality.

————

It’s nothing short a blood bath, a mess of bullets and gunpowder framing the centerpiece of organs and body parts. Bone fragments, and limbs, and cries of pain and pleas to merciless gods. It feels like both a century and a moment before soldiers stop flooding into the room.

Price motions for you to move forward, and gestures towards your belt silently. A smoke grenade. You nod in understanding and pose right behind a door, a smoke grenade in your hand. You glance over your shoulder briefly, checking that all your boys are in place.

With a confirmation that they’re ready you pull the pin on the grenade, shut your eyes tightly, and throw it. Once you hear the smoke dispense you desperately push forward.

It feels like a fever dream, moving through smoke and cries of pain. You feel like you’re watching a movie, a compilation of photos as you feel yourself pull the trigger again and again and again. Body responding before you can even think to. You feel every movement so intensely, and yet not at all. Like a puppet you react to your instincts, watching your boy’s backs. Making sure they stay safe. By the time the smoke clears and you’re ready to move to the roof you swear you can feel yourself swimming in blood. You can feel it creeping up your shoes, your shins and your knees, you hips, up and up until it’s entering your throat and your nose- suffocating you- you can’t breathe-

“Stitch?” You’re forced back into your body by a firm hand on your shoulder. Turning your head you see Gaz standing next to you, somehow managing to pull a small, kind smile onto his face. “We’re almost out.” He soothes kindly.

You swallow the blood in your throat before nodding firmly. “Right. We’re almost out.”

————

It was surprisingly easy to take control of the helicopter, but you suppose you should have expected that. Once they’d heard the shooting and explosions beneath their feet they would have almost certainly abandoned their post in favor of helping their allies. It doesn’t truly matter to you though, their lives ended all the same.

After busting through the door, that they hadn’t even bothered to lock in their rush, it was simply a matter of taking out 3 soldiers and the pilot. A laughably easy task considering what you had just accomplished.

You leaned back in your seat on the helicopter heavily, resting your head back against the side of the beast. You feel your weariness in every bone in your body. You don’t think you’ve ever dealt so much death in such a short period of time. While you were no stranger to the feeling of taking a life, you took less than the average solider. You focused on mending, not breaking, whenever possible.

You supposed that today mending life was not in cards as much as tearing it apart. You wonder if you have what it takes to be a solider, if you break at the first sign of difficulty.

You’re broken out of your thoughts by a firm hand on your knee. You open your eyes and sit up to be met with the sight of Soap’s big blue eyes staring at you in concern.

It’s takes you a moment before you notice that he’s handing you something, his field journal. You take it with a confused glance, but he mearly gestures for you to look inside.

You look at the page he was holding open, it contains many small doodles, that despite their small size are still remarkably well done. You see doodles of Ghost and Gaz, who are sitting across from you. He’s sketched how they currently look, Gaz with his head resting on his fist as he stares at the clouds racing by. Ghost as he leans back, his arms and legs crossed.

What really draws your attention though is a question, messily scrawled beneath the doodles. Next to it is a stylized, cartoonish drawing of you, surrounded by several hearts.

The question reads, “You alright hun?”

You look up at Johnny and he blinks at you a few times before suddenly startling, like he had forgotten something, and sheepishly handing you a pencil.

You scrawl down right below Johnny’s handwriting, “I’ll live. You?” You hand his journal back to him, and watch as he scrawls down his response.

“Bit shaken, thought I was done in for a second there. At least until you stepped in <3” Next to the heart he’s drawn a goofy kissy face, equipped with his signature Mohawk and all.

Johnny and your’s silent conversation is cut short by Price shouting over the sound of the heli from up by the cockpit, “We’re landing in 2 minutes!”

“Roger that Cap!” You yell back, handing Johnny his journal back with a ruffle of his Mohawk. He gawks at you in playful insult while you go about making sure you (and your boys) are prepped for landing.

————

Once you’ve got both your feet back inside base exhaustion hits you like a tsunami wave. Now that you’re certain you’re safe the adrenaline is fading like water out of a balloon. Despite the fatigue festering in every part of your person, you’re not in bed. Instead you’re in the armory, cleaning your gear.

You want nothing more than to sleep, but it’s routine for you to make sure all of your duties are accomplished first so you can sleep well. You’re silently taking apart a pistol when you hear footsteps approaching the armory, knocking you out of your thoughts.

It’s only a moment before Price walks through the doors, surprisingly enough he’s not carrying any of his own weapons.

As soon as he sees where you’re sat on one of the benches he B-Lines to you, approaching with a speed and purpose that you’ve only seen him use on missions. The adrenaline from the mission must still be in his system, you muse. He’s been in this industry long enough for it to make sense.

“Go the fuck to sleep sergeant. The actual hell are you still doing awake?” He barks as he approaches you.

“Will soon sir.” You respond nonchalantly. “Just cleaning my gear first.”

He guffaws like it’s the most foolish thing he’s heard all day, (which says a lot considering he has gotten captured today) and gestures for you to scoot over.

You do so, slightly confused by what he intends to do. Once you’ve made room on the bench he sits down next to you and grabs your vest. As he lays it on his lap he goes through the pockets systematically, making sure the vest is perfectly up to code.

As you observe him you’re slightly surprised by his actions, you imagine he must be wanting to go to sleep after the day he’s had.

“You don’t have to help me sir.” You say carefully, tip-toeing around his grumpy outward appearance.

“A good leader always makes sure his soldiers are taken care of before himself. Now finish cleaning that pistol so we can get the fuck to bed.”

————

With Price helping you it didn’t take long for you to finish and finally head to bed. You could feel your feet sticking to the ground with every step, and it took you twice as long as it normally did to walk to your barracks from the armory.

As you approach your door you notice a slumped figure next to it, causing adrenaline from the day to start kicking back up inside you. Feeling your heart start to hammer, yet not having the energy to do anything about it, you continue to approach leisurely.

As you get closer you recognize the balaclava and all black clothing that clings to a large frame. Ghost. When you finally stand next to him you nudge his hip with your foot.

“Come on big guy.”

He blinks up at you wearily, but starts to stand all the same as you unlock your door. You walk in and throw your boots and jacket off as you approach your bed, little care for where they end up.

You flop down on your bed, the scratchy blankets and thin military mattress feeling like paradise after all you’d been through. When you see ghost’s shadow approaching out of the corner of your eye you roll over, facing the wall.

You feel Ghost lie down on your mattress and sling a heavy arm over your waist as you both settle down into a deep sleep.

It had been a hard day, but you would do it all over again for your boys.

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andhumanslovedstories · 4 months

Note

Hey so your post about pain management as a bedside nurse is so important to my own nursing practice that I've considered printing it out so I can have it to hand all the time. So thanks for that. Also, how do you deal with assignments that are busy enough that pain management is harder than it should be? I'm coming up on two years as a nurse and I feel like I take it personally when I am too busy to adequately manage my patients pain. I'm also coming from a newly unionized hospital where the ratios are still horrendous (I do 1:10 on med surg) and I'm hoping once we can enforce our staffing grids it'll be better but idk I'm burning out and I love my job so much and I really respect your nursing philosophy? I guess. Sorry for the word vomit it's been a crazy shift.

I've been trying to think of how to answer this since I got it. It's just such a horrendous ratio. With ten patients a shift, that's like six minutes an hour for each in a fantasy world where there's no charting and everything is exactly where you need it to be. I feel like I don't have great insight into this because the most med surg patients I've had assigned is five. Ten patients to one nurse is just a raw deal for everyone. Like christ no wonder you feel like you're burning out! I'll give you what thoughts I have and hopefully other people can chime in if they have suggestions. But that's such a hard patient load.

When I've been super swamped, I've found that's when being really explicit about your thinking with the patient helps. Like if I have to dash into a room and then dash back out, I'll make sure the board is updated with the next medication time and that the patient knows when the medication is going to kick in. I'll also provide call light parameters. I have a lot of success telling people, "the med should be doing something by 5:30. If I haven't checked in with you by then, and the pain is unchanged or barely changed, hit your call light and we'll try the next step. Also hit your call light if you feel any sudden change, like now you're nauseated or you have a headache or the type of pain changes or something just feels very wrong. Is there anything you need before I step out of the room?"

I like to be explicit about when to call me because I think there's two directions call light usage can go wrong: someone calls all the time, or someone never calls. With someone who calls all the time, I find that telling them when I'll be back and that I want them to call me if I'm not takes away some of that anxiety that can causes some people to call frequently. Often those patients are afraid that if they aren't on the call light, they're gonna get ignored.

For the other type of patient, the one that doesn't call, I want to make explicit that it's GOOD AND NORMAL TO CALL YOUR NURSE WHEN YOU HAVE SYMPTOMS. We've all had that patient at the end of shift who goes, "btw the gnawing pain in my leg is now a 10/10" and you're like "what gnawing pain sir?? you've literally never mentioned it before now?? I don't have any meds for that lemme page super quick????" These patients can get into pain crises easily because they don't ask for help until something is unbearable. In addition to pain crisis bad, it takes a lot more time to deal with something unbearable than it does to deal with something uncomfortable.

On that note, are you spending your very limited time efficiently? To me, that actually means spend more time talking with patients, at least up front. Manage expectations, make sure people know what to expect. Having conversations with patients that are like, "You just had surgery, it's not gonna happen that we get you completely painless. We want to get you to a manageable pain level that allows you to do whatever it is you most want to do this shift." (For me on nights, that's usually sleeping at least a little, but sometimes the realistic goal you make together is that you will feel at some point better than you feel right now.) "You have this medication scheduled, and you have this one available every X hours when your pain is severe. Is there anything you know that helps you deal with pain?"

Also establish if patients want to be woken up for certain prn medications or if they're sleeping, to let them sleep. With some patients, I will advise them to get woken up for pain medication because I know that they're going to need consistent control to avoid a crisis. (Crises take so much time!)

When I'm crunched for time, I'm fond of bringing in an ice pack and being like "if it works, great, if it doesn't, just take it off, either way here it is." Sometimes I'll do the same with a warm blanket. If I know my patient needs to take pills, I'll bring a cup of water with me into the room. If there's a basic prn like melatonin or tylenol that I think they might want, I'll pull them in advance. If the patient doesn't want them, I return them next time I'm in the med room. (Obviously, don't do this with controlled substances. It's super easy to forget to return them, and not returning opioids is one of those whoopsies people get fired over.)

Decision making takes time. Walking to go get stuff takes time. I want to save the time it takes to assess if the patient needs those things and then walk off to fetch them by just having the things already. If your tightest resource is time, be liberal with resources you can spare. If you're stuck with a patient, do you have anyone you can delegate a prn med pass to? Do you know how to do the absolute minimum charting you need to? Do you have flushes and alcohol wipes and whatever other most common things you need? And since you can't hoard time, if you've got some to spare, ask yourself if there is anything you can do now that will save you time later. If you have five free minutes now and an incontinent patient, getting them up to the bathroom now can save you from taking the time for incontinence care and a bed change later on when they've also sundowned and decide they hate everything but most of all you.

So much of this answer I realize is investing as much time upfront as you can, which I realize is so hard when you are so busy. It sucks immensely that prepping takes much less time than not being prepared does when you don't always have time to prep. Plus when you invest that time to pain plan with patients and do small preventative interventions, I think it also provides some psychological comfort that helps with pain. You're letting them know you're invested and you care and you have a plan, even if you don't have all the time you'd like. That can mean better pain control, which can mean needing to spend less time in that room overall, meaning you can save six whole minutes at some point and maybe even, if we're feeling crazy, get a chance to indulge in that greatest of indulgences: just a real leisurely on-shift piss.

#nursing tag #i hope this helps at all i know how much it sucks to end a shift like 'cool. i didn't help my patients. feel great about that.'#it sucks when you don't have enough time to take care of people because you have too many people to take care of #anyway also thank you re: pain post compliment. and also thank you re: getting to talk about pain mgmt again #marge simpson holding potato voice: i just think [nursing process and symptom management] is neat!

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bryhoney · 1 month

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Recognisance pt. 1

This is literally my first post, please go easy on me lmao - the slowest of slow burns between AdoptedWalker!Reader x Keegan P. Russ. TW: Kidnapping and Torture. Set two years after the events of COD Ghosts.

On AO3! Semi-Regular updates :)

This has barely been proofed - so, sorry in advance!

Pt.2

"NO!"

It's a man's voice, you don't recognise it. He sounds panicked, his voice is ragged and hoarse. His scream grows louder and louder until it's a deafening ring and-

You jolt awake, crying out in pain. Every part of your body hurts and the ringing in your ears is agony.

Your chest feels tight as you try to orientate yourself, you're in a room you don't recognise. It's sparsely decorated and looks medical, it's not often used.

It takes you only a second to notice the three silhouettes that stand in the corner of the room, effectively blocking your only exit. You lurch into a sitting position, pushing yourself backwards in the bed.

Panic floods your system, you don't recognise any of them. You have to get up, get back to-?

Get back to who?

The man standing closest to your bed is older, with greying hair and lines around his eyes. He pushes himself of the wall and you take note of the sheer size of him. He's muscular and clearly disciplined. A threat.

Your eyes scan rapidly for any sort of weapon, something that could offer some vestige of protection. Nothing.

He raises his arms in mock surrender as he approaches, "How do you feel?" His voice is deep, gentle and entirely unfamiliar.

W--g. Wrong. Wrong.

Your voice wavers, "Stay back!" You're pushing yourself even further away from him as you frantically try to assess the best way to escape these men.

"Hey, hey" he continues, your breathing is rapid and shallow.

Where's ----? I am - ------ and I am ---. I have been ---------.

Your hand instinctively reaches to the top of your thigh, your fingers find only the thin medical gown you're wearing.

Where's my -----?

What are you looking for?

"Do you know where you are?" He asks, he's at the end of your bed now. You realise that you can't escape this situation in your current state, you try and level your breathing and maintain eye contact.

"No." You grit the words out, you hate the way your heart sinks.

The man nods, a ghost of a smile tugs at his lips.

Stop it. Stop it.

"Do you know who I am?" He continues, his voice still calm as he moves to sit at the foot of the bed. His movement spurs you into action, you carefully swing your legs off the bed, just in case.

"No" You answer again, your hands fisting the bedsheets as you focus on keeping your breathing level. What the fuck is happening.

"Control your breathing ----. You're --- ------- when --- -"

Whose voice was that?

"I don't-" your voice falters and cracks. If they didn't know you were scared before, they do now. Stupid.

"Stop giving them the advantage"

His eyes meet yours and he exhales deeply, "My name is Gabriel. You and I work together, you were part of the Federation. Do you know what the Federation is?" As he speaks you realise he is truly unarmed, dressed in civilian clothing. The other two men are in standardised uniform, armed to the teeth.

At his words, you almost sigh in relief. It's the first bit of information you recognise. The Federation sounds familiar. It's-? E--m-. What was the Federation?

"Yes, but- I...I thought the Federation where-? I'm not part of the Federation? My house was-?" You're stumbling through scattered memories, trying desperately to assign meaning to abstract thoughts. The more you try to pin something down, the quicker it escapes.

A sudden wave of nausea washes over you. The man in front of you will hurt you. What?

"Dad! Wait! I'm not as fast as ----" It's your voice. You're young.

Where's my Dad?

The man at the end of your bed reaches towards you, covering the hand that's clutching the sheets, "It'll come back to you in time, Sweetheart". You would have flinched if you hadn't locked up in fear. Your heart thundering in your chest.

"Why can't I remember", you feel a tear roll down your cheek. You're not sure if it's borne from frustration or fear.

Safe. You're safe. Calm down.

He tenses and stands abruptly, "You were taken from us, you-" he cuts himself off, "we will get the men that did this to you- I'm just sorry it took us so long to find you".

His back is turned to you, the men that stand guarding the door seem to stand further to attention under his gaze.

This man, Gabriel, is important. He said you were someone he worked with. Were you important too?

He came back for you. He said you were taken and he came back for you.

"I don't-" you feel overwhelmed, unable to breathe.

You were taken? Why? Who took you? When? What did they do? How did you get out? Are they coming back? Are-

You shake your head, as though you can physically dispel these thoughts.

Gabriel turns to you again, "you will remember us, and you will help us get revenge for what they did to us".

Your eyes snap to his, "Us?" You stop trying to hide your fear.

He returns to your bedside and clasps your hand before he repeats, "Us".

3 Weeks Later

The chair is still the same uncomfortable plastic one as last time. You fought every urge to make yet another complaint to the man opposite you. You'd asked him to replace it for you, he'd raised his eyebrow, made some notes and said nothing.

You can remember everything since you woke up in the hospital room, just not a lot before that. However, the nightmares and flashbacks of your time with the Ghosts were becoming more vivid and frequent with each week. Sam made more notes about that.

You'd see this man almost every day, his name was Sam and that was about all you knew about him. He was assessing you apparently, monitoring your progress before you could go back to work. He applauded your short-term memory progress in the most unenthused tone you'd ever heard.

He clearly didn't want to be here any more than you did.

He'd ask the same questions every time before delving into other recovery topics.

"What's your name" his voice was monotonous, uninterested.

You reeled off your first name easily, before meeting his unamused gaze and sighing, "I'm not sure". You slouched in your seat, eyes scanning each crack in the cold concrete walls that surrounded the two of you.

"----? st-----! Get ----!" A man's voice, deep, urgent.

You fidget in the seat, "Something with a W in it? I don't know". It's the first time since you regained consciousness that you heard one of the voices. You decide not to tell the man opposite you that fun tidbit of information, you're not crazy.

He looks momentarily surprised at the omission before resuming the blank facade and furiously jotting down notes.

You knew your first name but Gabriel made it clear he wanted you to recall as much information as possible before he told you anything else. He said it would set a good foundation and allow them to track your progress better. It sounded like bullshit to you at the time but you had agreed to it all the same.

"What's your mother's name?" he continues.

You wait for another voice, a scattered memory. Nothing.

"I don't know," your teeth hurt from clenching them, you have to wriggle your jaw to ease the tension.

"Any brothers or sisters?" he pushes his glasses further up his face. Dickhead.

You hear laughing. "Got---! Yo--- -- ---o-" your hands are skimming the top of water, throwing it suddenly as ----. You hear a laugh and then your own. The sun is blinding and you can't focus on anything. Ha--y. Yo--- -a---.

"I don't know, maybe?" your eyes are closed as you try to concentrate. The sudden onslaught of shattered, unclear memories hurt to try to piece together.

"How do you know Rorke?" It's a new question.

"We worked together," you reply almost instantly. It's the only question you can confidently answer. The only answer you've been told the answer to.

“Where's —-? You came back witho—--?! —---” This time, you recognise it’s your voice. You’re scared. You’re angry. You’re screaming.

You bring your palms up to rub your eyes at the screaming. A headache is taking root and your eyes sting in frustration.

"Who is Elias Walker?" Another new question, you don't like this.

There are no memories, except a heaviness that settles on your chest. You physically shift in the chair to accommodate the weight and hope he doesn't notice.

"I wish I knew," your head is still in your hands, your elbows resting on the table.

The name is a whisper. It should mean something.

"Are you alright to continue?" His voice is absent of any concern that should be present in that question. God, you hated him.

"Yes, just annoyed" you manage.

Annoyed with you, with my situation.

Why the Federation believes that this is the most effective way of getting back your memories is beyond you. You make little to no progress with piecing together your life. Your memories are still undecipherable and scattered.

You're escorted back to your room, which lies opposite Gabriel's. You're aware that everyone on the base calls him Rorke except for you. He introduced himself as Gabriel and so you're hesitant to deviate away from this name.

He spends most of his time in the control room, meticulously planning the Federation's next move.

You'd been around him long enough to know that his main objective was the annihilation of the group of men who'd captured you. A particularly tricky group of men known as the Ghosts. An elite task force that managed to use the Federation's own weapons against Rorke. They also had an unnerving ability to kill droves of Federation soldiers without being detected.

From the limited number of redacted reports you'd been allowed to read, the Ghosts had managed to infiltrate the Federation ranks an embarrassing number of times.

It was remarkable, there was only a handful of them and yet the threat they posed was severe and entirely warranted. By the time I was retrieved, only the most loyal remained as active members.

The Ghosts had taken everything.

Rorke had succeeded in killing two of them, a man named Ajax and their former leader, 'The Scarecrow'.

It had been the remaining men, that had ripped you apart over two years of continued torture.

Gabriel had told you that the Ghosts had targeted you to get to him, you didn't ask why. You had ignored the implications of that statement. He also said you had valuable information, so you left it at that.

"Damn ---, what the ---- you doing on this?" It was a deep voice, a new one. It was almost entirely intact. You could hear the smile in their voice. It wasn't Rorke, it wasn't anyone here. It was someone you knew before.

You exhaled deeply as you crossed over the threshold of your room, closing the door and sprawling face down across your bed, groaning. You had wanted to make some notes on the voices you heard. You didn't want to forget them, but you didn't want to share them with Sam.

Any rest that you could have had was ripped away from you by two sharp knocks to the door.

"Just me," Gabriel yelled before opening the door, not waiting for any invitation to do so. He smiled at you as you scrambled off the bed to a presentable, standing position.

"You alright?" You ask, despite your initial unease about Gabriel, he was the only one to reach out to you and make you feel comfortable at the base. He was the closest thing you had to a friend.

"Jus' checking in with you, how was this morning?" He keeps his distance, crossing the room before taking a seat at your desk chair, swivelling it to face you. You follow his lead and sit at the foot of your bed.

You laugh, feeling tension roll off you, "Same as always, delightful" he seems to smile in response but says nothing else for a moment.

Gabriel doesn't come to just check in with you, he wants something.

He moves closer to you, grabbing your shoulder heavily and squeezing. It feels so familiar and yet-?

It shouldn't be him.

What?

"I'm proud of you," he says, "I know what you went through wasn't easy". He looks sincere and you feel your throat tighten.

You shrug him off playfully, smiling, "Alright, alright, what are you actually here for?"

He laughs, sitting back in his seat, "We've got some leads, need you to get on them - might have something for once". He's relaxed, crossing his arms in front of him.

You're taken aback, you'd essentially been signed off indefinitely, "You think I'm ready to - y'know, come back?". You're so hopeful and you can hear it in your voice.

Finally. You could get back to doing something you were good at. Something that had made you important once.

He laughs and you both move to stand, his arm wrapping over your shoulders as he leads you towards the control centre, "never doubted you for a second".

You're smiling. Actually smiling.

It's nice having someone believe in you. Someone who can attest to what you used to be capable of. The rest of the soldiers here avoid you, keep their eyes low as you pass them in corridors. As though you were a higher rank than them. As though you really were important.

Who were you?

#keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #logan walker #cod keegan #call of duty ghosts #what am i doing lol #i am sorry in advance #the slowest of slow burns #not proofread

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alotofpockets · 8 months

Text

Amidst the chaos | Sylvie Brett

Pairing: Sylvie Brett x Reader

Summary: You're involved in a big accident on the highway. You aid a woman who is about to give birth with the help of your paramedic girlfriend on the phone.

Warnings: Car crashes, and delivering a baby. If there's inaccuracies in the actual child birth, I am sorry, like reader I don't actually know the steps.

Masterlist | Chicago Fire masterlist | Words: 1.3k

You were driving home from work, when a few cars ahead of you, you saw a truck reacting to the traffic around it and ending up crossed over the highway. You hit the brakes as fast as you could but before you knew it your car got hit in the back, which made you hit the car in front of you as well. It caused a chain reaction of car crashes around you but it took you a moment to process what had happened, but once you did you tried getting out of your car.

Once you got out of your car you checked to see if you were hurt in any way that the adrenaline wasn’t letting you feel. When you couldn’t find anything you looked around and saw that a lot of cars had crashed along with yours. “Help!” You hear. “We need help!” The call snaps you out of your shock and you run to their aid, seeing as not many people have gotten out of their cars yet. You get to the man calling out and ask what’s wrong. “My wife, help my wife.” You move to the other side of their car and manage to open the door after a couple of tries. She’s breathing heavily, but you saw no major injuries. “What’s hurting you ask?” The wife just screams out in pain, so the husband answers for her. “We were on our way to the hospital, she’s in labor.”

You look around but don’t see a way for you to get her around this chaos. “Okay, here’s what we are going to do okay. I need you to turn my way okay and then I’m going to check you out, okay?” The woman nods and you help turn her your way. You can already see the baby’s head, the baby wasn’t waiting. “Okay, keep breathing for me. What are your names?” The husband answers again, “I am Rick and my wife’s name is Brooke.” - “Okay Rick, Brooke, I am y/n. My partner is a paramedic, so I am going to call her and she’s going to walk us through this okay. Rick, do you think you can do the breathing exercises with Brooke?”

After taking a deep breath you press call. She’s currently on shift, so you were hoping that she would be able to pick up. Without her guidance you didn’t know what you were doing, you had no medical training whatsoever. In your head you were saying pick up, pick up, pick up until you heard the call connect and Sylvie was on the other side of the phone. “Hi baby, you’re on speaker, Vi is with me. I’m sorry, I’m on a call and I can't really talk right now. I’ll call you back when we’re back at 51 okay?”

“Wait, Sylvie, I need your help. There was a big pile up on the highway, maybe thirty cars or so.” Before you can finish Sylvie interrupts you, “Baby, are you okay? The highway pile up is our call. We’re on our way.” You hadn’t realized that she would think that something was wrong with you so you quickly reassured her. “I’m okay, I’m not hurt. I do need your help though. I’m with a woman who is about to give birth here on the highway and help won’t come in time, I can already see the head. I’m going to need you to walk me through delivering this baby.” You place your phone on the dashboard once Sylvie and Violet told you to put it on speaker phone. “Okay Brooke, this is my partner Sylvie and her coworker Violet, they are going to talk us through this, are you ready?” Brooke nods and says, “Yes, I need this pain to be over.” She ends her sentence with another scream.

You help Brooke scoot to the edge of the seat and tell her where to place her feet. Next you take off your sweater to use it as a makeshift blanket like Sylvie told you. “Okay, Brooke, you’re doing great. The next time you feel a contraction coming you have to push.” It takes less than a minute for her next contraction to hit. “That’s it Brooke, push, push, push.” Your eyes are focussed on the baby's head. “Sylvie, the head is out, what now?” You had already reached up to support the baby’s head. “At the next contraction push again, the shoulders will be the hardest part Brooke, but after that it’s done. You’ve got this.”

Sylvie and Violet arrive at the accident scene before the next contraction starts. They get out of the ambulance and grab their bags quickly and take a moment to look at the accident, looking for you. “Where are you?” Sylvie asks. “Like four cars away from the truck that is blocking the road.” You tell them just before Brooke’s next contraction. “This is it Brooke, push as hard as you can.”

Violet grabs the gurney and tells Sylvie to get to you. “Gallo!” Violet calls over when she sees him getting out of Truck 18. “Help me get this gurney over to y/n.” Gallo rushes to her side, “Y/n’s in this?” They rush the gurney your way as she explains what was going on.

Brooke was working hard on her latest contraction, with one last big push the shoulders are freed and the baby easily slides out the rest of the way. Sylvie runs up behind you just as the baby is born and you wrap the blanket around her. Just as Sylvie sits down by your side the baby starts crying. You sigh with relief, knowing that the baby is okay. “Congratulations on your beautiful baby girl.” You say with tears in your eyes. Sylvie cuts the umbilical cord and the baby’s parents watch their newborn with awe.

You step aside to let Sylvie inspect Brooke. Violet and Gallo join you with the gurney. You stand to the side with the baby in your arms as Sylvie and Violet help Brooke onto the gurney. On the other side of the car, Gallo uses his halligan to open Rick’s door. You all get back to the ambulance together. You ride to the hospital with them for the young family to get checked out. They both thanked you for what you did and asked for your number to stay in contact.

Sylvie and Violet take you to the firehouse in the ambulance since your car was totaled, but you were glad that your car got the worst of it and you were fine. You stayed at the firehouse until Sylvie’s shift was over, talking to everyone that would listen about your experience of delivering a baby. Sylvie was immensely proud of you, not only for delivering the baby, but also of the fact that your first instinct was to help people.

Once Sylvie’s shift was over you decided today was worth celebrating with a dinner date. At dinner you got a text from an unknown number. You smile down at your phone when you realize that it’s Brooke. She sent you a picture of their little girl and the message read. Thank you for helping us bring this wonder into our lives. We would like you to officially meet Lucy y/n Smith. You tear up looking at the name they gave their little girl and show the message to Sylvie. She squeezes your hand, “You deserve it, you were incredible out there.”

With a full heart you let Sylvie take you home where you spend the rest of the evening cuddling up to her on the couch as your adrenaline had finally simmered down and your exhaustion started to hit. Sylvie held you in her arms as she watched the movie playing on the TV.

#sylvie brett #sylvie brett x reader #chicago fire #one chicago imagine #one chicago x reader #chicago fire x reader #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfic #one chicago

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merrybloomwrites · 8 months

Text

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Sickfic Part 2)

Summary: Y/N's condition is worse than they'd feared, leading to a hospital stay.

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Medical condition, hospital, mentions of death

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You’re unconscious for three minutes. Three long minutes, during which Sarah, Mitch, and Harry all panic about what to do.

“Do we call an ambulance?” Harry asks while lifting you up and laying you on the couch.

“I don’t know!” Sarah replies, her voice wavering with nerves.

“I’ll look up her symptoms,” Mitch adds. “Maybe something online will tell us what to do.”

“Right, because the internet is so reliable,” Harry retorts.

“He’s just trying to get us some information,” Sarah says.

It’s quiet for a moment before Harry replies, “I’m sorry, I’m just kind of freaking out here.”

“I know, I am too,” Mitch says.

Their voices start to break through to you, but they sound far away. You try to reach for them, call out to them, but you’re too weak. You barely manage to twitch your arms and make a quiet noise, which luckily catches their attention.

Sarah kneels next to the couch by your head. She gently moves the hair out of your eyes and starts to stroke your face. “Love, can you hear us?”

You make a small noise which they take as a good sign.

“Great, that’s great,” she says through a relived breath.

A moment later you find your voice and say, “Mom?”

“No love, it’s Sarah,” she replies, instantly worried again.

“I want my mom,” you say. You’re sick, and scared, and confused, and in that moment you desire the comfort your mother can provide.

“I know baby.”

You turn to look at Sarah and ask, “Can you call her? Get her here?”

Everyone in the room immediately stills. Their panic goes up another notch at your question. They know your story. They know that your parents passed away years ago. The fact that you’re asking for her now indicates that you’re extremely confused, which is not a good sign when paired with all of your other symptoms.

“Can you please call her?” you ask again when no one answers you. “Or my dad? He’s normally better at answering the phone.”

“I’m calling an ambulance,” Mitch says to Harry and Sarah.

“What do you think is wrong?” Harry asks.

“Maybe a septic infection, my mom’s doctors gave us the warning signs after her surgery. High fever, dizziness, confusion, basically everything she’s got right now.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It’s… yea. It’s not good. If that’s what it is then she needs the hospital right now.” Mitch steps away as his call to 9-1-1 is connected and he starts giving the necessary information.

You turn back to Sarah, not following any of the conversations happening around you.

“I don’t understand what’s happening,” you say through tears.

“I know, love. It’s going to be okay. We’re going to take care of you.” Sarah wipes away the tears on your cheeks and you listen as she continues to say soothing words.

Minutes pass with Sarah and Harry by your side, keeping you calm with words and gentle touches.

Mitch walks back in, but he’s not alone. With him are two paramedics. Harry and Sarah move to make room for them which causes you to begin crying again. In your confused state you don’t understand why they’re leaving you, why they would abandon you.

Harry quickly moves to stand over the back of the couch so he can hold your hand while remaining out of the way. Your eyes meet his and you calm down slightly.

The paramedics ask a series of questions which the others answer for you. They take your temperature and check your blood pressure, noting that both are worryingly high. After all of this Harry moves back to crouch in front of you and says, “Hi lovey. We’re gonna take you to see a doctor, alright? I’m just gonna move you onto the stretcher so we can go, okay?”

You barely understand what he’s saying, but as you trust him implicitly, you agree. He lifts you again and lays you on the stretcher. His hand never leaves yours as you’re wheeled out to the ambulance. You look around and Harry says, “Mitch and Sarah will meet us there. They’re gonna grab some stuff we might need later, and then they’ll drive over. You’ll see them soon, I promise.”

His words are perfect and prove just how well he knows you. He understands that being separated from your loved ones when you’re feeling like this will cause you stress, and he reassures you that the separation is temporary.

It ends up being hours before Mitch and Sarah are allowed to see you. The second you enter the Emergency Department you’re surrounded by a team of doctors and nurses. Harry is forced to step away so they can work. You cooperate to the best of your ability and after some of the scariest hours of your life you’re finally in a patient room with the three people you love most at your side.

You’ve been officially diagnosed with sepsis and started on IV antibiotics. While it’s too early to know your prognosis, the doctors commend Mitch on getting you to the hospital so quickly, as time is important when treating this.

Your brain is still incredibly foggy, and it takes all of your remaining energy to concentrate enough to know who is in the room with you. Finally, you piece together that Sarah is lying in the bed with you, Harry is sitting in a chair on your other side, and Mitch is standing at the foot of the bed. You feel safe knowing that they are there and allow your eyes to slide closed as you succumb to the exhaustion you’ve been fighting.

Sarah looks up at her husband and sees his intense gaze. He’s staring at you, barely blinking, tears pooling in his eyes. She knows him well enough to see his inner turmoil. He may not be talkative, or even very expressive, but Sarah can tell he’s terrified.

“Mitch, honey, come here please,” she says quietly. He doesn’t move, doesn’t respond in any way except to slowly shake his head no. His eyes never leave you; it’s as though you would disappear if he so much as blinked.

Harry sees Sarah’s worried expression, and since she can’t move at the moment, he takes action. He first lifts your hand up, pressing a kiss to it before gently placing it on the bed. Harry then stands up and carefully walks over to Mitch. He places a hand on Mitch’s shoulder, but it’s quickly shaken off.

“Mitch-” Harry starts but gets cut off.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Harry replies. “None of us are fine.”

“I can’t lose her.”

“We won’t.”

“You don’t know that! This is serious. Sepsis is deadly. This could kill her!”

“Mitch, come here,” Sarah says again, voice firmer this time.

“No.”

“Switch with me. You need to hold her.”

Mitch doesn’t move until Harry quietly says, “Go hold our girl.”

He finally moves, uncrossing his arms and walking to the side of the bed. Harry goes back to the opposite side so he can hold you up while Sarah slides out and Mitch situates himself.

Once he’s lying on the bed, which is in an upright position, Harry guides you so that you’re leaning against Mitch. Your back is resting on his chest, and he wraps his arms firmly around your waist. He feels the steady rise and fall of each breath you take, and for the first time in hours allows himself to relax and feel relief.

Harry sits in the chair by your bed and again holds your hand. Sarah stands on the opposite side, one hand on Mitch’s shoulder, the other occasionally moving to gently wipe away the tears that silently roll down his cheeks. Only after she’s sure everyone is sleeping as peacefully as possible does she finally sit on the couch in the room and rest.

It’s a long night, the first of many in your hospital stay. You’re barely conscious for most of it; even when you’re awake you can’t fight off the brain fog to understand what’s happening. All you know is that there’s always someone by your side, holding your hand, reassuring you that you’ll be okay. You believe these people, even if you can’t always identify them you know that you love and trust them.

However, for Harry, Sarah, and Mitch, every detail of this experience is deeply engrained in their memories. For Harry, the worst moment is watching your body seize after your temperature spiked. It’s the third day, and Mitch and Sarah are home grabbing some more clothes for everyone. The moment your body starts to jerk Harry is briskly led out of the way by hospital staff so they could tend to you. When you stop seizing they move you out of the room so they could run more tests, leaving Harry standing there alone.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there for, unmoving, unthinking, just in shock. Finally, the ringing of the phone in his pocket breaks through to him. He answers and at the sound of his mother’s voice on the line he finally breaks down.

Sarah and Mitch walk in to see Harry sobbing and you missing. They immediately panic and think the worst. Luckily, their presence comforts Harry enough that he’s able to calm down to explain what happened to them, as well as to his mom who is still on the phone.

To no one’s surprise Anne and Gemma arrive the next day to support all of you. Anne pulls her son in for a tight hug while Gemma sits with you. They switch after a little while, Gemma on the couch with Harry and Anne by your side. You’re dazed still, but awake, and you lean into her touch. She holds you like you’re one of her own.

For Mitch, the worst moment is a couple days later. It’s the middle of the night, everyone else home since hospital policy only allows one person with you at night. The nurse checks you and Mitch notices the worried look on his face. A minute later the nurse returns, this time with a doctor.

After the doctor finishes her exam she turns to Mitch to explain what’s happening.

He’s tired, and scared, and needs to clarify what he’s being told and says, “So her kidneys are shutting down? Her organs aren’t working right? Isn’t that like, the start of the end?”

“They’re not shutting down. However, they’re not working to their normal standard, but there are things we can do to reverse that. We caught it quick, and we’ve started the treatment. I know it’s scary, but please don’t worry yet.”

“You’ll tell us when to worry, right?” In that moment Mitch doesn’t care that he sounds like a little kid scared of monsters under the bed. He needs the reassurance from the professional.

“If it comes to that, I promise to be honest. But let’s hope it won’t okay?”

Mitch nods and the doctor checks you one last time before leaving the room. You’re awake, but groggy, so Mitch sits on the bed with you and sings quietly until you fall back asleep.

For Sarah, the worst moment is actually one evening where you’re awake, alert, and aware of what’s going on. At this point the doctors are allowing themselves to be more hopeful about your prognosis. Your kidneys are working properly again, your heart rate and temperature are staying at acceptable levels, and your labs are showing that the antibiotics are working against the infection.

Despite all of this good news, you know that your body has been through a lot, even if you hadn’t been aware of it at the time. You ask Sarah to be completely honest and tell you everything that you don’t remember. Reluctantly, she fills you in on the details.

You sit with the information for a moment until Sarah hears you whisper, “I’m going to die.”

“No, honey, no, you’re getting better. Why do you think you’re going to die?”

“My family. We- we don’t survive. We thought my dad was getting better and he took a turn and was gone so fast. We die. Maybe I’m supposed to die too. And then we’ll all be in heaven together.”

Sarah holds you close and says, “I know you miss them. And I know that you’re scared. But you have the best medical care, and you’re truly getting better. Just hold on a little longer.”

“What if I don’t want to anymore?”

It’s eerily silent in the room, save for the beeping of machines, until Sarah quietly says, “Please, love, please keep fighting. You have been through so much, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s selfish, but we need you here. Me, and Mitch, and Harry, we can’t do life without you. There’s so much more we want to do together, so please keep fighting. I promise we’ll make life wonderful. You just need to be here to see it.”

You notice the impact your words had on her, and realize you didn’t even mean it, not really. You don’t want to die. But you’re scared to let yourself think that way. You’re scared to be hopeful and positive because that’s when things go so horribly wrong.

You don’t know how to explain all of that, so you settle for promising her that you’ll fight to stay alive. She’s relived by your words, but still worried and holds on to you tight.

Sarah glances at the clock and knows that Harry will be back soon to take over the night shift. She just needs to keep her emotions in check until she gets home.

Once back at the apartment, she rushes into Mitch’s arms. She reassures him that nothing’s wrong with you and you’re still on the mend. She tells him it’s the buildup of emotions that has her this upset. He spends the night holding her as sobs wrack her boy, whispering to her that everything will be okay, placing comforting kisses to her head.

Just like he had done with you a few nights prior, he sings until Sarah falls asleep, then continues to cradle her in his arms.

More than two weeks after being admitted, you’re officially on the mend and infection free. Unfortunately, you’re still very weak and you need to spend a few days there undergoing psychical therapy to rebuild some strength. For you this is the worst part. You’re technically healthy, you’ve been living in a hospital forever, you miss your cats, and you just want to be home.

Everyone tries cheering you up and encouraging you in different ways, which all seem to work. You can tell they’ve been through a lot over the past few weeks so you do everything you can to get home to them.

You work especially hard one day after Sarah quietly and cheekily says, “We want to be able to celebrate your good health after you’re home. You’ll need stamina for that.” You blush at her words and the wink she gives you.

Finally, you’re officially discharged. You thank all of your doctors and nurses before Sarah wheels you out. Harry carries your bags and you all head to where Mitch is waiting with the car.

You enter your apartment to a welcome home banner, Mitch’s parents, Anne, and Gemma. Before you can greet any of them your cats both run over. You sit on the floor, and they fight for your attention, meowing, purring, rubbing their faces against yours.

Eventually they’re satisfied that it’s really you and they move off of your lap. Harry helps you stand back up and spends the rest of the afternoon hovering by your side.

Anne and Gemma make dinner, and though your appetite isn’t back to normal, you enjoy every bite of the homecooked meal. As everyone is eating the dessert Mitch’s parents brought, you start to lose energy. Harry is still next to you, and you lean into him more and more, needing his support.

“Time for bed, love?” he asks quietly. You sleepily nod yes in reply.

You wave good night to everyone, and Harry helps you get ready for bed. He lays down with you, and you can hear voices coming from the dining room.

“Do you want me to ask them to leave? Or talk quieter?” he asks you.

“No,” you reply. “I like hearing them.”

Within minutes you’re asleep, sprawled on top of Harry whose arms are holding you tight to him. You wake up briefly in the middle of the night and see that Sarah and Mitch are on either side of you and Harry. For the first time in a month, you feel content.

Unfortunately, you’re still feeling the effects of your illness weeks later. You’re facing more fatigue than usual. Since the infection had started in your lungs, they experienced some damage and still give you trouble. You try to be a good patient for the others, taking any medicine and treatments the doctors still have you on, but sometimes it gets frustrating the way they baby you.

It comes to a head one day in mid-December while you’re all decorating the apartment for Christmas.

First is Harry telling you to put on another coat while you’re putting lights on your deck outside. You explain the multiple layers you’re already wearing, but he insists that you need the coat, so you give in. You’re sweating by the time you’re done.

Next is Mitch taking over when you’re assembling your artificial tree. Sure, it was bulky and heavy, and the needles always gave you at least a few small scratches, but it had been your grandparents. You’d assembled it for them every year since you were big enough, and completing that task always signifies the start of Christmas to you. But again, you step back and let him take over, knowing that he means well and just wants to help.

The real tipping point is when you get on a ladder to put the star on top of the tree. All three of them offer to do it instead, and then hover around you the whole time you’re up there.

“You’re all being dramatic,” you say as you reach just a little farther to get the topper perfectly situated. You see Harry’s hand dart out towards you, and you roll your eyes.

“We just want you to be safe,” Sarah says as you walk down the ladder.

“I am. I am perfectly safe. Nothing I’m doing is dangerous. I have no desire to do anything that will risk my life. I kind of want to keep living, you know.”

“That’s not what you said before,” Sarah states so quietly, like she didn’t mean to let that thought out.

The room goes silent, Mitch and Harry both looking between the two of you.

“What?” you ask. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Sorry, it’s nothing. I didn’t mean-”

“No, you absolutely did mean to say it. When did I say I didn’t want to live?”

You see the tears fill her eyes and want to go over to comfort her, but you’re frozen. Because suddenly you remember the conversation. And you feel awful. You hate yourself for having said that to her, especially seeing that she’s still affected by those words that weren’t even true.

“One night at the hospital. When you made me tell you everything that had happened to you. And then I had to beg you to fight and hold on for us! You wanted to leave us!”

“Is that true, Y/N? You wanted to die?” Harry asks. Mitch is frozen next to him, staring at the floor like he doesn’t want to hear any of this.

“No!” you say. “I promise, it’s not true.” Finally, you’re the first to move, and you walk to Sarah, gently cupping her cheek, forcing her eyes to meet yours.

“I do not want to die. I didn’t want to die then, I swear. But, at that point, I thought I was going to anyway. I’m so used to everything going wrong that I didn’t want to allow myself to hope. Please believe me, I do not want to leave you.”

She’s silent for a moment and you wipe away the tears that roll down her cheeks.

“I believe you,” she whispers. You share a small smile and press your lips to hers is a chaste kiss.

When you look up you see that Mitch and Harry still haven’t moved.

You pull away from Sarah and say, “Come here.”

The boys listen and you point to the couch, telling all three of them to sit. You choose to sit on the coffee table across from them so that they can all see you.

“I know that you guys have been through a lot,” you start. “And I know it’s because of me. I’ve been on the other side, watching the people I love in the hospital, so I understand what you’re going through. You thought you were going to lose me, and you can’t shake that feeling. I get that you’re scared. But I’m not going anywhere. I mean, I beat a septic infection. I’m more badass than I thought.” This finally shook off everyone’s looks of doom as they smiled at the thought of you being a survivor.

Mitch, who’s sitting in the middle, reaches out to you. He pulls you so that you’re straddling his lap. Harry and Sarah both turn to put a hand on your back, on the same exact spot which causes you all to laugh when they playfully swat the others hand away to claim the spot. Sarah wins and Harry instead places his hand on your head. He turns you to face him and it almost hurts to look at his sad puppy eyes.

You lean over and place a kiss on his lips, before doing the same to Mitch and then Sarah. There’s a moment where no one speaks, and you all just hold onto each other as a reminder that everyone is safe.

After a few minutes you conversationally say, “So, who gets to pick the first Christmas movie?” The remaining tension finally breaks, and you all enjoy the rest of the day together.

It’s not the last moment of fear for everyone. You’ll occasionally notice them being more overprotective, or needing reassurance that you’re safe, but you understand them and make sure to patiently put them at ease every time. It’s been a rough few months, but you feel it’s strengthened the bonds you all have even more.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

@akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye @n0vaj3an @snwells @drunk-teens-doing-drugs

AN: Thank you again for reading this story! This is the end of the sickfic. I think the next extra I post is going to be a spicy one!

#harry styles x reader #mitch rowland x reader #mitch rowland x sarah jones x reader #sarah jones x reader #mitch rowland x harry styles #sarah jones x mitch rowland x reader

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ramspatula · 6 months

Text

IRON SPIDER| Tony Stark Daughter! Reader

This is the first chapter of my Tony Stark daughter| reader book. If you can’t tell. Reader is going to get bit by a radioactive spider at some point.

You are now part of the MCU! Congrats!

Next part

2001, 3 days after (Y/b/d)

"JARVIS, these lights are practically blinding me."

"Turning down the exposure, sir."

"I don't know why we have these lights on so bright!"

"I believe your condition may influence you to believe the lights are brighter than they are."

"Just say I'm hungover, I won't disable you over it."

"I wish I could say the same for the lights."

"Well I didn't want such bright lights." Tony groaned, keeping his eyes shut and resting an arm them.

"Mr Stark, your lawyer is here to see you." Pepper announced from the doorway. Tony's face scrunched in confusion, he didn't have a meeting with his lawyer or any of his attorneys for at least a week.

"Am I in trouble?" He asked.

"You should go find out." Pepper said, sternly.

"Are you going to spank me if I am?" Tony smirked and Pepper's face didn't change.

"Your lawyer is waiting on the couch and Obadiah wants to have dinner next week when he gets back, is that all Mr Stark?"

"Yeah, I'll go see what he wants." Tony nodded and swiftly moved out the room.

★・・・・・・★

"James! What brings you to my home? I break something? Someone? Vandalism? I sell something to the wrong people? Get someone pregnant? Noise complaint-"

"Mr Stark, please sit down. This needs to be dealt with in a timely manner." James told him before placing down in front of him an open folder. The folder contained an empty birth certificate and a picture of a newborn baby girl in a hospital crib.

"What is this?" Tony questioned.

"2 days ago, a woman was rushed the hospital as she was in labour and delivered this baby. She gave the hospital no name and no medical information except a contact number and told them to ask for the father of this baby, Anthony Stark." James started and placed before Tony a warn business card that said:

'Call me, Tony ~

P.s the room is payed for and there's a car waiting to take you wherever you want to go outside.'

There was a number at the bottom of the card which was for Happy's work cell. It was no doubt Tony's handwriting but Tony had slept with lots of people and none of them had a kid yet. This wasn't his kid.

"So what does she want? We're speaking if the kid is mine, 50/50 custody? Millions in child support? You know your silence is really nerving me." Tony asked.

"Im sorry, Mr Stark but you haven't heard all the context just yet." James clarified before continuing, "Last night, this woman left the hospital without this baby and no intentions of taking her along. That leaves two options, you claim that this isn't your child and she gets put into the system or your can get a paternity test and decide from there." Tony stared blankly for a couple minutes at the images in front of him.

"Mr Stark, I understand this a difficult situation-"

"She looks like my dad. Right before he died when he became an actual old man only he didn't look as peaceful as she does." Tony found himself smiling, babies has a tendency to make anyone smile.

"Have you thought over your options?" James asked and Tony shook his head.

"If this kid comes with me then there's a high chance she'll become fucked up but the system only produces messed up kids anyway. I think it's better if I'm the one who fucks her up, at least she'll know a sense of stability." Tony closed the folder. "Bring her here, I'll do the paternity test and you guys can be here to see the results. I'm assuming the mother gave up all her rights?" Tony questioned and James nodded, perplexed.

"If you are the father then all the rights for the child will be granted to you but if you aren't she will be put into the system." James told him and he nodded.

"Are we finished?"

"I just need to call the hospital to let them know." James said before standing up and when he was far enough away. Tony threw himself back into the couch and sighed, his hangover felt worse then before.

"JARVIS, what does a baby need and how does a single father give a baby what it needs?" Tony called out.

"Placing an order for baby formula, diapers, clothes and books involving caring for a newborn."

"You're the best."

★・・・・・・★

A newborn mainly only slept, cried, ate, peed, shit and slept again but they're so small. Holding one in your arms made you more aware of your surroundings, more afraid to move even slightly, your thoughts will become so filled with anxiety of things that could happen to them that you feel yourself begin to work up. At least, that's what Tony found out. There were at least 10 people in the room with him, including the baby. Everyone's attention was focused on the two very similar DNA strands shown on the holo-screen.

"Congratulations, Mr Stark. You are a father." Jarvis' voice rung out through the lab and Tony felt a small, overwhelmed, smile rise to his face.

"Well, that settles it. Where's the birth certificate?" Tony asked and Pepper's face dropped in shock.

"You're keeping her, Mr Stark?" She asked and Tony only smiled harder.

"She's my daughter, I'm not abandoning her." He announced picking the newborn up out the temporary crib and nestling her in one arm and turning her around to face the DNA strands. Her eyes weren't open but it didn't deter him.

"You see that? You're my daughter, those are half my genetics. If you're anything like me, you'll understand what that means by the time you're 4." He smiled as Pepper held the birth certificate towards him and a pen. He signed his name and then paused looking at the section where the baby's name would go.

"Leave the room for a bit. I want some time with my baby."

"Mr Stark-"

"Go!" The room soon dispersed and Tony sighed looking down at the little girl.

"What should I name you?" Tony asked but the baby only moved a little hand towards him before silently opening her eyes slightly to look up at him. Her vision wasn't great and wouldn't be for awhile but it still felt as if she was looking directly at him.

"My mother's name was Maria. Maria Stark? Name you after her? She'd like that. No she wouldn't. She’d want you to have your own name okay. Angel? You look like one. Angel Stark? I can't do that to my kid. Uhm... Lets see... (Y/n)? That's cute. I like that. (Y/n) Stark? That's good, nice... (Y/n) Maria Stark? Mom would've liked that. She would've liked you. You might've been able to make your grandad smile. Granted that's if he knew how to do that. My Dad wasn't that loving. He wasn't very nice to be honest but I won't be like that. Although, I do like to drink too so I hope you don't mind. I won't do it often or in front of you! I think I can make this work, being a Dad and a CEO and a inventor. I think my playboy career might take some damage though but that is a sacrifice I'm willing to make as I've seen what it has given me. No offence. (Y/n) Maria Stark." Tony said as he wrote her name on the certificate and smiled.

"You really are about to change my life, you know that?" He whispered and in response all he could hear was the almost silent breaths of a newborn baby.

★・・・・・・★

"Tony! What's this business I hear about you having a baby? You want maternity leave? What are you a woman? Get a nanny and let's get to work!" The voice of Obadiah Stane rang through the living room of the Miami mansion and said man was greeted with shushing.

"I have been awake every 3 hours last night! To feed, rock and cuddle that baby! You will not wake her during my hours of peace, it takes me longer to get her back down than it does to reassemble an engine." Tony's hair was everywhere, his t-shirt has a spot of baby sick on and there was a distressed looking baby cloth thrown over his shoulder.

"You look like shit."

"You don't look much better. How was New York?"

"You've got a baby in the next room and you're asking me about New York?"

"Okay let's settle this. Yes I have a baby. Her name is (Y/n) Maria Stark and she was born on (Y/b/d) at 7lbs. Now tell me why you're here because I could be taking a nap right now- you know I'm supposed to sleep when she does?" Tony told him making his way over the kitchen where his new sterilising invention had sterilised 6 of his new baby bottles and 2 pacifiers.

"No I don't -going into the baby business now?" Obadiah asked, staring at all the new baby inventions.

"I think we should because being a parent is hard."

"You've been a parent for like 3 days Tony."

"A week and half."

"What?"

"She was born 2 weeks ago and I got her 3 days after she was born." Tony told him, grabbing the coffee that Obadiah had brought him and taking a sip.

"You're really keeping her?" Obadiah questioned and Tony scrunched his face.

"Yeah, she's my kid." Tony answered.

"You do realise what a big responsibility this is? No more playboy parties. You can't bring her gambling and partying! Unless you're getting a nanny which I think you should. No one can raise a kid like a woman." Obadiah told him and Tony stared at him with a blank face.

"Just for that, I'm going to prove you wrong." Tony jabbed him in the chest. Before Obadiah could respond Jarvis' voice sounded through the room.

"Miss Stark is awake and hungry."

"You want to meet her?" Tony asked as he prepped a bottle, a little cry could be heard and Obadiah frowned.

"She doesn't sound happy I'm here." He commented and Tony shrugged.

"Be back in a sec." With that Tony left the room and came back with a small figure resting against his chest in a pink sleep suit.

"This is her?" Obadiah asked in shock. He didn't know what he expected but it wasn't to see Tony so comfortable with such responsibility in his arms.

"You think I've got some random baby laying around? Yes it's her, she's hungry. Can't you tell?" Tony asked, gesturing to the way the baby was mouthing. "Want to hold her whilst I sort this bottle out?" He asked and Obadiah looked wary.

"Tony I-"

"Good. Support her head- don't look so awkward. There you go! Now don't move." Obadiah had never looked so stiff. He stood, unmoving, as Tony made his way to the still cooling bottle.

"You know, there's a reason I never had kids." Obadiah commented to which Tony ignored and tested the temperature of the bottle on his wrist.

"Sorry honey, still too hot." He said and Obadiah began to absentmindedly rock a little, the baby was looking up at him with big, judging, eyes.

"She looks like you."

"I thought she looked like Dad."

"Yeah well, I still find it hard to separate you and Howard. Look- she's even got that look you give me!" Obadiah commented and Tony chuckled.

"What look?" He asked.

"Like I don't mean shit." Obadiah told him and he genuinely laughed.

★・・・・・・★

The door to the lab opened quietly. A lone rocking chair could be seen by a desk, a holo-screen was placed in front of the rocking chair where two figures were seated. Colonel James Rhodes made his way towards the chair and paused a few feet away.

"So the rumours are true? Tony Stark settled down." Rhodey said and a quiet chuckle could be heard.

"I didn't settle down, I just had a baby." Tony told him with a smile and from the new position Rhodey could see the little girl.

"God she looks like you. Where's the mother?" Rhodey questioned and Tony shook his head.

"Gone. I have no clue where. I haven't had the time to look into it." Tony told him and looked down at his kid.

"How old is she?"

"1 month. Didn't expect you to be away for so long. What they have you do? Flood out some terrorists?" Tony asked and Rhodey chuckled.

"Nothing as interesting as that or this. She's so small?" Rhodey leaned more towards the baby.

"Do you want to hold her?" Tony asked and Rhodey smiled.

"Really?" He asked, giddy.

"Yeah, come on. Be careful she's asleep. She likes to be against your chest." Tony told him as he helped Rhodey adjust the baby onto his chest.

"I got it- oh she's so small. What's her name?" Rhodey asked and Tony sat back down on the rocking chair.

"(Y/n) Maria Stark." He announced and Rhodey smiled.

"Like your Mom?" He asked and Tony nodded. "That's nice. I didn't think you'd be the sentimental type, Tony." Rhodey commented and Tony smiled.

"Well my Mom meant the world to me and now so does she so it's only fitting." Tony shrugged and Rhodey nodded in approval.

"I can't believe you had a kid." Rhodey shook his head in disbelief and Tony rolled his eyes.

"You do know you're an Uncle now." Tony told him and Rhodey's face dropped, Tony just laughed.

★・・・・・・★

"Todays top story: Tony Stark, Inventor, Millionaire, CEO OF STARK INDUSTRIES and infamous playboy has announced that he has had a child"

"New Stark heir announced: (Y/n) Maria Stark."

"Tony Stark has welcomed a daughter into the world, (Y/n) Maria Stark. The 6 month old..."

"Infamous Playboy is now a single father? Tony Stark has been revealed to have a baby daughter."

"Are we about to see a new Stark generation? More about the announcement of Tony Stark's new parenthood."

"Tony Stark has had a daughter, (Y/n) Maria Stark was born on..."

"No, I didn't know you were going to announce the existence of my infant daughter to the whole world!... No that is not your decision-....I don't care! You had no right to announce my daughter's birth without my approval! At the very least you could've told me you were going to announce her!... I know you announced it. The company doesn't make public announcements like that on its own... I am not going to let my daughter be free publicity for the company!... Obadiah, I don't care what benefit it has for investors to see me as more. What? Domestic. I don't care.... I'm done talking to you. Bye." Just as Tony hung up a cry was sounded through his bedroom.

"Yes honey, I know, I'm upset too." The little 6 month old stared up at him with big watery eyes from where she was sat on the bed next to him.

★・・・・・・★

"JARVIS? Are you recording?"

"Of course sir."

"Come to Daddy. Come on, you can do it!" The 8 month old stared at him for a moment. She was in the position to crawl and had tried numerous times before. "Come on, (Y/n). You've got this, sweetheart- Yeah! That's it!" Tony clapped as the baby crawled slightly towards a toy in front of her and laughed when she saw her father be so ecstatic. She moved to sitting down and clapping with him.

"Da!" She had been saying for the past 2 months. She didn't associate the word with Tony yet but he reacted all the same. Overjoyed and happy. From that moment she crawled she never stopped until she found her father's toolbox. (Y/n) didn't have a clue what any of the tools did but it was a sign to Tony that she was going to have the same brilliant mind that he did. She was a Stark, through and through.

★・・・・・・★

Tony still had to go into work sometimes. No matter how much he hated going to his office nowadays it was still obligation and there's only so much of Pepper's nagging he can take. However, that being said he was still Tony Stark so he was going to bend the rules. That's how he ended up walking into multiple important meetings with a baby on his hip. Sometimes it was meetings with government officials or international ambassadors for militaries that were interested in his technology. It was safe to say they were surprised at the appearance of the baby or at least weren't expecting her.

"Tony, you know you can't bring her here."

"Who says? It's my company, she doesn't effect my work. In fact she helps, she knows what a screwdriver is-"

"Screwdriver"

"-See? My little helper. She's talking a lot now. You should come by more often, you're missing out." Tony pointed at Obadiah as (Y/n) made work of trying to climb over his shoulder to see above the chair they were sitting on. She likes the big glass window behind them.

"Jesus Tony, you sound like a woman." Obadiah chided and Tony chuckled pulling his daughter down and sitting her on the desk where she immediately took offence to some decoration Pepper had put on the desk and kicked it off with a groan.

"I never liked that one either. Thanks, honey. And to answer you, I don't give two shits."

"Shit." (Y/n) repeated with a cross face and both men chuckled.

"You're not telling her off for that?" Obadiah asked.

"No she doesn't know what it means plus I say it too much to kick out my vocab so I'm letting it stay in hers too."

"People are going to criticise you for this."

"The world is cruel to a single father, Obadiah. At least I'm rich." Tony said

"Rich." (Y/n) repeated.

"She already knows she's worth more than me." Obadiah commented and Tony chuckled.

"I've been trying to get her to say millionaire but it's not quite there yet sounds like 'milloner'." Tony told Obadiah who smirked.

"You're close to being a billionaire, Tony. I think this next deal may make that happen." Obadiah told him, placing a folder down in front of him.

"Maybe." Tony agreed and Obadiah picked up at toy on the floor and handed it towards (Y/n).

"I believe this is yours, little missy." He told her and she only frowned and looked upset and he only got an answer when Tony looked up from the file.

"She doesn't like to be handed stuff- just leave it there, if she wants it she'll take it." Tony told him before going back to reading the file.

"The apple really doesn't fall far from the tree, huh?" Obadiah murmured.

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xshiny · 7 days

Text

Shared Struggles prt 1

Trigger Warning! ⚠️

Eating disorder -> not eating for a while resulting to unhealthy body

Unbeknownst to those who didn’t pay much mind to you, you had been struggling to eat much or anything at all.You thought you were flying under the radar fairly well with this, until Keegan found you and walked over to you, pressing his shoulder to the wall as he leaned to be level with you. “You didn’t come down for dinner,” He said smoothly. He was the least confrontational of personal problems out of all your friends, so it was surprising. “Nor were you there for breakfast.. whys that?"

"I already ate" you shrugged it off, moving past him.

“You didn’t.” Keegan said bluntly. “I looked in the kitchen on my way back from the table.. there wasn’t even a plate put in the sink. You’re a bad liar.”

"I put the dishes away. You're a bad looker" you quickly said, and took another step.

This caught him off guard for a moment, before he pushed himself off the wall and stepped in front of you, placing his hands on your shoulders. “Look at me.”

"I'm looking" you blinked, looking at him and stood there in his grasp. You were playing it cool.

He tightened his grip slightly until your view was entirely him. “Do you even realize how thin you’ve gotten? You can practically see your bones through your skin for god’s sake!”

"I'm not skinny, I'm just...not as big as you" you shrug, not even caring about the fact that what he said is true.

He looked at you like you had lost your mind. “Not as big as me?? Dude,” He said, stepping back as he gestured to himself, “You can practically see the bones in your spine! You look like you’re dying!”

"Dying? I'm not dying!" You protest, frowning at him.

“Well you’re damn well starving yourself and that’s a slippery slope to all sorts of issues. Your skin is pale, and your eyes are all bloodshot and sunken. And you don’t have any energy, man! You’re exhausted just by walking!!”

"I need sleep!?" You suggest, and shrug your shoulders again.

“Yeah, that too!” He exclaimed, “But I mean, you have to see what I mean right? You look like if you dropped dead, people wouldn’t question it because they expect it! Your entire skin color is almost blue! You’re a shade of white we’ve never seen! Do you even remember the last time you had a full meal?”

"...No.."

“You can’t even remember?” He looked genuinely hurt. “How long has it been?? The last I remember, you didn’t eat that day either… that was, what, two weeks ago?”

Suddenly you feel dizzy and slump forward a bit, stumbling over your feet. "S'been a while"

Keegan let go of your shoulders as he immediately scooped you up in his arms, holding you close to prevent you from any more stumbling.“Jesus Christ!” He yelled, “You’re about to collapse!”

"Am...not...bouta..." You complained, and your knees gave out, causing you to go dead weight on him.

Keegan made the executive decision to carry you bridal style and immediately went downstairs to take you to the medical unit.He kicked down the door and yelled, “We need help! Anyone?! Come quick!”

getting worked on ⤵️

When multiple members of the unit rushed in, he finally explained in more detail what was wrong with you, making sure to mention your severe lack of eating. The nurses were incredibly worried, but got to work immediately. It took nearly three hours for them to fix any nutrient deficiencies you may have and give you an intravenous injection of potassium to prevent further muscle fatigue.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

A/n: Make sure you lovelies eat!! Take care of yourselves ❤️

Sorry for any inaccurate scenes 😭

And still working on that last scene...will update later

#keegan p russ #cod keegan #keegan x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ #keegan ghosts #keegan x you #keegan russ x you #m4m #m4f

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gumnut-logic · 4 months

Text

Found this Scott and Em Harris 'discussion' on my hard drive.

Em Harris is an OC from Gentle Rain.

Language warning for this as she is not happy at all.

-o-o-o-

“I’m just trying to keep you from dying! Don’t you see that? I care about you and you are the last person I ever want to see dead out there, so just fucking listen to me for once!”

Scott blinked at the fire in her words. He would have taken a step back, but he was held by his seat in One, its safety harness and back preventing him from moving an inch away from the fury of his wife.

Em hovered in front of him, the white of her medical baldric glaring at him. It had stains. Some identifiable, some not so much. But all of which he wished he could have protected her from.

But he couldn’t.

Because she was who she was and there was no way he could hold her back from helping people any more than he could himself. If there was one thing they both shared, it was that.

Her determination was what made her so beautiful.

“Emaline-“

“No!” She held up a hand. “You don’t get to speak after a stupid stunt like that. All you had to do was wait for Virgil.”

“There wasn’t time!”

“Another thirty seconds, Scott! If Virgil hadn’t caught you, YOU WOULD BE DEAD!” Her pale blue eyes electrified with a mixture of fury and fear. “I almost lost you! For no reason!”

“A life was saved!”

“Virgil nearly missed the both of you! He has enough bruising from his leap off that cliff after you to inspire his next painting. Kay is going to kick your ass, flyboy.”

Scott swallowed. Kayo he could handle, but he hadn’t realised Virgil had been hurt. “Is Virgil okay?”

Em sighed and looked down a moment before looking him in the eye. “No. No, he is not. You owe him an apology.”

As if he was aware of his name being mentioned, Virgil’s calm voice issued over comes. “Thunderbird Two departing danger zone. Transporting injured to Capetown Medical and returning to base.”

The line cut out before Scott could reply. The lack of personal address or even his callsign was enough to illustrate exactly how much shit he was in with his brother.

“Scott, please.” And suddenly the anger in her voice was gone. “Why? Why is your life not worth as much to you as it is to me?”

She wasn’t crying, but there was so much grief in her voice, he had to reach out and pull her to him.

There was resistance at first. She was as stubborn as she was determined to the point of the words being synonyms. But then, as light as she always was, he drew her into his arms, hoverscoot rising at an angle and their baldrics clattering as they met. Her head landed on his shoulder and he held her there, stroking the nape of her neck where her hair bun left it bare.

“I’m sorry.” It was an exhalation.

“Please don’t do that again.” It was muffled into his uniform.

“Em, you know I can’t guar-“

It was exactly the wrong thing to say. She flung herself backwards, pulling away. Practised reflexes let her go out of respect, but he grabbed at her again. No!

She didn’t let him reach her, her hoverjets humming almost as angrily as her expression.

“No, Scott Tracy, you can guarantee. You can tell me that you will wait. You can tell me that you will consider. You will tell me that you trust your brothers’ knowledge and experience. And you can tell me that I am important enough in your life for you to not give up that life in a situation that can be easily avoided.” She drew in a breath. “If you can’t value your own life enough yourself, then value it for me.” A breath. “I love you, Scott…please.”

Every rule, every philosophy, every self determination screamed at him to deny her. The thought of putting his life above others was anathema. But his strategic mind flipped the equation without permission and he saw his actions from her point of view.

His brain listed off his abilities, how he should have been able to handle the situation safely.

And how it had all gone so far south so quickly, and how only the quick actions of his engineer brother had prevented a very long plummet down a very high cliff.

His first thought had been gratitude and admiration for his brother’s skill and the fact the rescue was a successful one.

He didn’t register Virgil’s grunts as anything other than simple exertion. Now looking back, now he didn’t have his arms full of terrified rescuee, he could take a moment to examine exactly what had happened.

Virgil hadn’t said a thing.

He had rappelled them back up the cliff. It had been all business and as the adrenalin had waned, Scott had just felt tired. Em took the rescuee into Two and after a silent scan with Virgil’s mediscanner, Scott had returned to One.

It was just another rescue almost gone wrong.

Virgil had just saved the day…again.

What if he had waited? Would the man have fallen?

His heart feared what would have happened if he did. That was why he had jumped himself despite the fragility of the rockface.

He looked up at his beautiful wife. “I don’t know if I can stand by and risk a death I can prevent.”

Her lips thinned, but her eyes were sad. “Neither can I.” She drew in a breath. “Commander Scott Tracy, as Lead Medical Officer of International Rescue, I’m citing you for reckless self-endangerment and recommending psychological review.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

“I can’t lose you, Scott.” Little more than breath. “Not like this.

“I just can’t.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #virgil tracy #em harris #gentle rain #scott/em #scott/oc #virgil/kayo #but only background

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certainmaybe · 3 months

Text

A question of morals

Villain had refused to discuss anything over the phone. It would be a long conversation, and they were on the run. So where could they go? Medic didn’t know either, but then they had an idea. The box of favors was still open in front of them. “I could ask Supervillain,” Medic suggested.

“You could ask Supervillain?”

“Well, they still owe me a favor. They should be able to keep you safe for a while at least.”

“Text me the time and the place and I will be there.”

They met in a small, private coffee shop. Villain looked rough. They had lost weight, dark circles under their eyes and they were checking their surroundings at every turn. Still they put on a charming smile as they greeted Medic.

“So, how have things been?” Villain asked.

“Like always. I assume you had it a bit rough?”

“Nothing I can’t handle.” One look at Villain was enough to call out that lie, but Medic didn’t.

“So what happened?”

“First I have a few questions, and your answers will determine how much I tell you. Do the ends justify the means?”

“I don’t know? It depends, I think.”

“It was a yes or no question. Do the ends justify the means?” It would be easy to lie, to try and tell Villain whatever they wanted to hear, but that wasn’t Medics style. And anyway, Villain had the sort of heated stare that let Medic know that if they lied now Villain would never forgive them.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because… you never know. You might be wrong. You could have misunderstood something or simply not known, and then you would have hurt people for no reason at all. Doing the small, kind thing, even if it doesn’t help your goals, is still a good deed. You are still helping somebody. If you just go around doing anything to reach some goal, some you might not even ever reach, you could easily end up causing more harm.”

“That’s truly what you believe?”

“It’s.. it’s as close as I can get when answering a very complicated question on the spot. Give me an hour, a day, a year and you might get something totally different.”

“I might not have that long, so let’s work with what we have.” Villain certainly tried to sound casual, but the way they avoided Medics eyes was telling.

“Villain…”

“You wanted answers, didn’t you? When was the last time you went into the basement of the hero-center?”

“I don’t think I ever did. There’s nothing for me to do down there.”

“Maybe not any more, but when I visited…” Villains voice broke and Medic found themself reaching out. Villain flinched. Medics hand was hanging in the air. “You remember the night I came by, right? Just imagine that, just with you to patch anybody up. And then imagine it again, and again, and again, until you feel sick. If you feel sick you probably got it right. Imagine that, and imagine that in the very basement of your oh so great employer, and imagine seeing that, and barely escaping, and now being most wanted on every list because for the first time in your life you just wanted to fucking help.” By the end, Villain was crying.

“Villain…”

“That’s what you wanted to know. That’s what happened, that’s who- the very people you are working for are the ones that did this, and right under your nose.” There was a short break where Villain took a sip of their coffee. “I’m sorry,” they said more quietly. “You didn’t know, it’s not your fault.”

“I know now,” Medic said. “Have you told anybody else?”

“I tried, but turns out there are far more people willing to listen to them than to me. I… I was afraid you would be like them.”

“And still you told me.”

“I’m getting kind of sick of being alone. Anyway, who knows how long I will manage to stay alive for. Did you know that there is a betting pool now? They give me about a week before somebody manages to kill me.”

“No. No, I’m going to fix this, I-”

“What are you going to do? You’re just… no offense, Medic, but you are just you. You’re not even a hero.”

“You are right, I am not a hero.” Medic looked up to Supervillains Assistant, who was sitting a few tables away from them, keeping a lookout. “But I am owed a few favors.”

“That would have to be a lot of favors to do anything.”

“I can’t promise much, but… but I am not going to let you die.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think that is your decision to make.”

“I guess we will find out. I should get going now.” Medic had already gotten up, when Villains voice echoed behind them.

“It was nice, seeing you one last time.”

“If you are still alive at the end of the week, would you want to meet again?”

“If I am still alive in one week I will marry you on the spot.” Medic turned around at that, and tried to copy Villains dashing smile.

“Carefull, I might take you up on that.”

#heroes and villains #heroxvillain #villain #snippet

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iceman-kazansky · 9 months

Note

Hey :) I stumbled over your side a few days ago and absolutly love your writing so I wanted to ask for a request. (This is the first time I'm doing something like this so I'm sorry if I do something wrong?) How about an angsty Lipton x reader in which the reader gets wounded badly in the battle field and he gets like super terefied and trys to talk her into staying awake. With maybe a fluff ending. You don't have to do it of course I just thought I'd ask since Lip's kinda underrated :)

From the Start

Pairings: Carwood Lipton x f!reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, cold, bombs, bombing, reader nearly dies, swearing I imagine, reader is knocked unconcious

A/n: I am so sorry this took so long 😭 I was so conflicted while writing this and it turned out to take much longer than I intended. I had a blast writing this, even if it took a little longer than I'd have liked. I hope you like enjoy 🥺

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Shivering within the confines of your foxhole, you listened half-heartedly to the world around you, the bitter wind was biting and silent. The forest seemed lonely, devoid of all human life and a true beauty of nature.

Except, it was anything but something of a 'beauty.' It was a place where you'd lost men — good Men, most fresh straight from America, just finished their basic; friends; too many, so, so many— in the devastating artillery the Germans bombarded you with.

Sitting in a foxhole farther from the front lines in desolate silence you listened.

Listened, for nothing in particular; Listened for any sounds of wildlife in the frozen canopy above; Listened for the crunching of snow beneath a soldier's boots as he walked. You were taking the moment to relish the peace that settled over Bastogne.

But, unfortunately, the world had other plans. A shriek from further up in the large grouping of foxholes, followed by a thunderous boom that sent snow and dirt into the sky, signals the next wave of artillery.

The sky erupts in flashes of white –almost like lightning– followed by a deafening explosion –thunder.–

The bombing is more intense this time, trees are exploding, the bark shooting outwards like bullets from the muzzle of a browning, sinking into unsuspecting victims with deadly precision. It's ironic in a sense, how, just a few minutes ago you'd been listening to the sounds of nature yet now you listened for incoming German mortars; Listened for the pleads and cries of help made by wounded soldiers.

Somewhere, in the vast sea of wounded, a faint scream of "Medic!" could be heard and you're already leaping out from the safest place you knew and over debris to answer their call.

That's when the second wave hits.

You are unable to do anything when a mortar slams into the ground a few feet away, sending the ground beneath your feet shooting off into different directions, taking you with it. You felt the harsh impact when you inevitably collided with the ground, resonating in your bones, your helmet knocked free from your head while you lay on the ground motionless. The cold earth and snow pressed against your uniform as you lay. Your senses felt fuzzy; Your ears rang, blocking out all noises around you; arms and legs felt limp.

You don't want to move, but the scream for a medic you'd heard earlier echoes in your mind relentlessly, urging you on. Yet, when you try to get up, something doesn't feel right. Lifting your head slightly in confusion, pain shoots through your body. Your head pounds, it feels as if you can sense your brain smashing against your skull with every movement, prompting you to groan loudly and lay your head back down on the soft snow.

In your haze, you hear his voice, "Stay in your foxholes!" He’s screaming as he runs past disheveled men who are eager to get out of their only place of protection. But the minute he locks eyes on your slightly broken form, splayed on the forest floor, he can feel his heart stop.

In an instant he's at your side, dropped to his knees and eyes frantically searching your body.

He lifts his head up once more, head whipping to the side as he searches for help, yelling "Medic!" As loud as he can.

You can feel the adrenaline wearing off now, and feel the warm liquid that seeps from deep gashes on your stomach and legs. And in one horrific thought you realize, you've been wounded.

In seconds Eugene Roe, one of Easy companies medics, is at your side, pressing bandages into your wounds. They seem to be no use as they soak up blood quickly while more just keeps on seeping from the wounds and onto the once beautiful white snow.

Your head hurts so bad and it seems as if everything around you is so bright, urging you to close your eyes. You don't realize it, but death awaits on the other side of that deep void of acceptance, threatening to drag you into its depths.

"Hey-" You hear a fuzzy voice from above you, and register the feeling of warm fingers cupping your cheek, tapping you lightly in alarm, "c'mon," He whispers, "stay with me here."

If you were in the right consciousness you'd be appalled at the conflict you feel and the resignation you prepare to place forward. Staying in the real world… it feels painful, but there is another place, behind closed eyelids that beckons to you, offering comfort.

You can no longer resist the growing tiredness you feel, letting your consciousness slip away, but before you lose your senses you can hear the cracked, emotional voice of Carwood, "Don't die, please, I need you."

And everything goes black. You slip into a blissful, painless void of unconsciousness.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

This morning, feels different. Your wound feels significantly better. Of course, there is still the sickly stench that wafts through the room, invading your nostrils when you wake every morning.

It reeks of death, and there is a biting chill to the morning air that makes your nose burn as your senses roar alive.

It's almost quiet when you stir, the only sound being the pained groans emitted by the many wounded soldiers forced to lie in the church basement. Something you've grown accustomed to over the 11 days you've been here.

With shaky hands, wobbly legs and an immense effort, you push yourself on your two feet.

You can feel your wound stretch when you take a tentative step forwards. It certainly is not perfect, but you can feel the difference over the 11 days. It no longer shoots a pain so strong it forces you back down. That's certainly a relief.

By now you are itching to get back to the frontline. Partially because, in the back of your mind, Carwoods earlier words echo. 'I need you.'

What did he mean by that?

The thought of asking him. Knowing what he meant, has made you impatient.

Taking a deep breath you make your way to the stairs, trying to seem as nonchalant as possible, giving an unfamiliar nurse a tight-lipped smile as you passed, praying she wouldn’t catch you on your grand escape and send you back.

A sigh of relief passed through your nose as you reached the stairs.

I’m not free yet.

You winced as you took the first few steps up the stairs, but were quick to stifle the small shutter of pain that reverberated through you as much as you could.

You were nearly there. By now you could see the door, your way out and back to the frontline.

Your steps quickened, eager to escape, to leave. Excited at the prospect of getting back to your found family and the man you loved.

Yet you found yourself pausing at the door, hand hovering just above the door handle. He’d want you to stay and get better.

But your family. They were at risk of being killed every waking hour of the day. Everyone you’d seen get injured managed to find a way back.

Shoving your internal conflict down for good, you twisted the knob and finally, you were on the home stretch.

Waving down a passing truck, you climbed in, instructing him to bring you to the front lines, to which he thankfully obliged.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

The truck came to a rumbling halt, and you clambered out, thanking the driver while you walked to the makeshift Battalion HQ they’d sent up - located a little farther away than the foxholes and front line, to avoid the artillery from striking. -

Feet crunching beneath the snow, the air quiet, with no signs of life except the few tents set up ahead, it was a breath of fresh air from the hospital you’d been locked in for the past week and a half.

“Sir?” You asked, waiting for a moment before the raspy reply of, ‘Enter’ was exchanged.

Pushing the flap aside, you entered. “Good to have you back, doc.” Richard Winters, your former captain smiled at you.

“Good to be back,” you smiled back. For truly, you were happy to be home. Although, you had a certain someone you wanted to see, “Do you know where I’d find Carwood?” A light blush tints your face, but you hope Dick takes it as the cold.

He smiles knowingly at you, “Yeah, he’s at the frontline. Sorry I don’t know exactly where.”

Nodding, you turn and exit the tent, speed walking to the forest you know Easy is holed in.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Carwood nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears your very familiar voice, and his head whips to the side in alarm, “What are you doing back?” he asks in bewilderment, his eyes round as saucers, “You are supposed to be on bedrest, Y/n. You nearly died.”

You feel a little bit of shame as he frowns pointedly at you, his eyes hardened with disappointment. It makes you feel like a child, caught in the scolding gaze of their mother after being caught red handed. “I know,” you whisper. The thought never did leave you. Of course you knew you almost died.

Carwood sighs, and an awkward silence settles between you two when you slide into the foxhole beside him.

You try to look anywhere but him. The trees, the snow, a crater a few feet away in the trees, and lastly back to your feet, that seem extremely interesting to your ashamed gaze in the tension.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he breaks the silence. You turn your head towards him, acknowledging him and meeting his dark eyes.

For moments, you stare into his eyes, a thought forming on your mind that his eyes look like warm honey. Eyes that hold the warmth of an everlasting hearth.

Staring at him, you can feel the words forming on your tongue, the question you’ve been longing to ask, “What did you mean when you said I need you?”

He doesn’t say anything, just stares, and you can feel your nerves creeping up on you, “Please, Carwood, tell me it meant what I think it did.”

“I means that I can’t live without you.”

You feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, and your breath hitches at his confession, butterflies exploding in your stomach.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, and you swear you are going to faint as everything you’ve ever dreamed of since meeting Carwood unfolds before you. Like a fairytale.

You can only nod, words lost in your throat as your eyes flutter closed.

He kisses you passionately, lips moving delicately against your own. His hands come up to cup your cheeks, further deeping the flood gate of passion he unleashes. Years of pent up love and adoration, spilled in one kiss. A kiss so withdrawn and repressed in fear of one breaking that oh-so-cherished friendship they’d built over the years of war, something unbeknownst to the other, they’d been longing to share. Ever since they’d met, the two had been swooning over the other, both too lost and oblivious to the blatantly obvious affection they held for eachother. Blind-sided by love.

Pulling away for a reluctant breath of air, your eyes meet his, and he smiles lovingly.

“I love you.” You whisper, breathless.

“I love you too.” He returns.

For a moment you just take time to think how much you’ve longed to do this. To kiss him. Every look you shared. The many times you were close. And thinking back, honestly? You think you did it at the perfect timing.

#band of brothers #hbo war #x reader #bob #female reader #iceman-kazansky #angst with a happy ending #angst to fluff #carwood lipton x reader #Carwood Lipton x f!reader #easy company #band of brothers fanfic #bastogne #ww2 #Ardennes forest #Battle of the Buldge #Requested #♤ Requests

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