#Paramedic

[afriblaq]

Did you know America’s first paramedics were 25 Black men from Freedom House They didn’t just save lives—they pioneered a system that’s still used today. This is the history they don’t teach you

[sunbreak-studies]

cardiology readings catch-up 😅 have fallen painfully behind because of clinical placements the last two weeks

[pinhaboboot]

stinky nerds

[sowhumpful]

[dedeinthewild]

evan buckley x reader, roommates to lovers

“Feast your eyes on the newest star of the 118!”

summary : Halloween at the 118 firehouse gets hilariously spooky when Buck's quirky surprise steals the show...

The locker room at the firehouse had always been a safe haven for the crew, a place where they had grown up together and become a family.

How many times had they found themselves sitting on the benches after a tough call, the smell of smoke still clinging to their noses, their eyes burning as they tried to close them for just a moment? It was also where they often joked around, and where _____, the team’s star paramedic, would bring trays of cookies that Buck inevitably “borrowed.”

“Halloween,” she announced, stepping into the locker room, followed by the firefighter who had left the surprise they’d picked out for decorations by the entrance.

“Don’t say anything,” Eddie warned, knowing that a phrase like “let’s hope for a quiet shift” would jinx them and inevitably turn into their worst day.

“I wasn’t going to,” she replied, shrugging as she dropped her bag on the bench next to her roommate’s.

“Cap isn’t exactly fun when it comes to decorations,” Chimney said, sounding a bit disappointed as he sipped his coffee, the shiny name tag on his chest catching the light.

She looked over at Buck, already knowing that in ten minutes, the decorations they had chosen would turn Bobby’s plans on their head. Buck grinned, shrugging off his uniform shirt and stretching his shoulders, looking far less tired than he should have after a night shift.

“We’ll be The Wizard of Oz characters,” Hen chimed in with a smile, talking about her family, where Mara would be Dorothy and Denny the Tin Man.

The woman smiled, loving how proud and happy Hen sounded as she talked about her kids and Karen.

“Jee is Pluto,” Chim added, making Eddie bow his head slightly. Ever since his son had gone to stay with his grandparents in El Paso, he had felt alone, as if he were losing precious moments with him.

“You don’t have kids yet, so I won’t ask,” Hen teased Buck and the woman as they were changing out of their smoky uniforms into the clothes they had grabbed from home.

“You could always ask about our costumes,” the firefighter quipped, leaning against the locker behind him with a smirk.

“Guys, what’s with the coffin?”

Captain Nash had walked in through the glass door, pointing at the coffin the two had left by the entrance alongside a cart. Buck sprinted out, positioning himself behind the coffin to open it dramatically, excited to show the others what he’d found.

“Okay, everyone!” Buck announced, grabbing everyone’s attention as he wheeled the cart into view.

“Feast your eyes on the newest star of the 118!”

Buck opened the wooden sarcophagus to reveal a fascinating mummy, its head tilted to one side, draped in cobwebs.

“Good Lord, Buck, what is that?” Bobby asked, hands on his hips as he stared at the decoration.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Chim said approvingly, while Buck explained that he had picked it up from an old Hollywood prop warehouse near his apartment.

“Do the pow-pow thing,” the paramedic whispered in his ear, referring to the presentation they had rehearsed in the car on the way back to the station.

“I figured we could give him a cowboy hat and a vest, maybe even a six-shooter,” Buck added, his grin stretching ear to ear. “Pow-pow!” He mimicked firing pistols with his hands.

“It looks...” Hen rested her chin on the woman’s shoulder, tilting her head as if analyzing the mummy.

“Awfully real?” the woman whispered, arms crossed and feet slightly apart, dressed in the base layer of her black costume.

“Like he’s been dead for 200 years,” the experienced paramedic chimed in with a laugh, just as Eddie arrived carrying the last of the skeletons for the decorations.

It was the perfect opportunity to outshine the 126 and establish themselves as the best-decorated station, delighting the kids who would do anything for candy. Most importantly, it was a day to set aside their uniforms and enjoy some fun before their shifts began.

“They’re supposed to be for the kids.”

“God, Buck!” the woman exclaimed, clutching her chest in surprise when she turned around to find him standing right behind her.

“I’m a cowboy. I shouldn’t be scary,” Buck teased, stealing a piece of chocolate from her hand.

“Nice mustache,” she joked, running her fingers over the fake mustache, feeling the synthetic material against her fingertips.

He would let her touch him forever if she wanted.

The way she pressed her lips together, assessing the realism of the mustache, and those eyes—soft and sweet despite the bit of makeup she wore to look spooky—captivated him.

“And what are you supposed to be?”

“I literally told you two hours ago, dummy,” the paramedic teased, holding up the mask in her hand.

“A cowboy and a plague doctor. That’s... kinda nice,” Buck remarked, popping the chocolate into his mouth, unaware she hadn’t yet realized he’d stolen the whole thing. As he walked away, her laughter trailed after him.

“Welcome to the spookiest night of your short, little lives!” Bobby’s voice boomed as he welcomed the kids. “I am your guide, Cap Dracula.”

The team suppressed small chuckles at their captain’s enthusiasm as he grinned at the kids, fake fangs on display. Most of the children were entranced, though a few looked bored, which made her smile as she donned her mask and took her designated position.

The walls shimmered with colored lights cutting through fake fog, and amplified footsteps added to the eerie atmosphere. The air made the hanging skeletons sway, completing an impeccable setup that was sure to secure their win.

“Have a terrifyingly good time!”

As ultraviolet lights revealed Hen dressed as a mad scientist, the kids gasped, their white costumes glowing blue. The woman, already chuckling sinisterly, addressed them in her most haunting voice as they approached her station.

“Step closer, little ones... I see sickness in your eyes. Let me check...”

She examined their hesitant gazes, following them into the maze. “Beware, there are whispers of the dead... they’re calling for you!” she murmured into the ears of the older children, who appreciated the scare without being overwhelmed, while the younger ones eagerly pressed forward into the next section.

At the maze’s end, the team’s newest “member” awaited, holding a giant bowl of candy. Beside it, Buck stood tall, hands resting on his cowboy belt, his hat casting a shadow over his bright blue eyes. He tried a Texan drawl as he encouraged the kids, understandably hesitant about the mummy, to take some candy before heading out to trick-or-treat around the neighborhood.

“He’s creepy,” one little girl whispered, clutching her fairy wings.

“He’s not creepy,” Buck insisted, only to receive a pointed look from the paramedic. “Okay, maybe a little... but he’s harmless,” he conceded, kneeling to her level and offering to move the mummy’s hands so the kids could take candy without fear. His soft smile shone even through the large brown mustache tickling his lip.

But when he grabbed one of the mummy’s arms to move it, it came off in his hand, revealing something disturbingly lifelike.

“Are those worms?” a boy in a giant baseball helmet asked.

The paramedic stepped forward, removing her mask and crouching beside Buck to get a closer look. Her face hovered just past his shoulder.

“I think those are tendons,” she murmured, as if even she doubted her words.

“Oh my god, he’s real.”

The first time, it was as if someone else had said it. The second time was to process the realization. The third and fourth were for convincing themselves that what they held was, in fact, a real arm, complete with ligaments and tissue. The fifth time was purely instinct as Buck stood, tossed the arm to her, and screamed while running away.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the paramedic yelled, clutching the arm as if she too wasn’t entirely sure what it was.

By the time the police hauled the mummy away and the team glared at Buck, who had undeniably spiced up their Halloween, she was leaning against the ambulance, arms crossed, holding Buck’s fake mustache.

“Billy Boils, huh?”

“He was a showstopper, at least,” Buck said with a sheepish grin.

She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder before carefully reapplying the mustache under his nose, pressing the adhesive to his fair skin. Once again, her fingers brushed his cheeks, and he silently wished she’d run her hands through his hair and leave them there for as long as possible.

“Wait, have you washed your hands?” he asked suddenly.

“For what?”

“You literally held Billy’s arm,” Buck replied, horrified, stepping back.

“You’re such an idiot,” she laughed, chasing him with her “tainted” hand raised dramatically, just to see his mock-scared reaction.

The following evening, she was in the locker room with Hen, who seemed visibly shaken by what had happened to her son. Hen had come to talk to the captain but found her colleague sneaking snacks away from the giant firefighter with blue eyes.

“You know they say your hair curls when you’re in love,” Hen teased, leaning against the doorframe, noticing the oversized fire department shirt the woman wore—one she recognized as one of Buck’s old ones.

“Whose hair is curly?” the woman asked curiously.

Hen pulled out a photo from Halloween, taken just before the swarm of kids arrived and the chaos of Buck’s mummy erupted. It showed the woman sitting between Buck and Chim, smiling towards Buck as she held her mask. Her hair, resting on her silk cape, fell in soft curls at the ends, as if someone had gently twisted them.

“Maybe it’s the shampoo. I’ve been using Buck’s for a while now.”

“Is he trying to save on that?”

“I got tired of him using mine,” she laughed.

Hen was serious. She had practically watched those two grow together, despite the paramedic only joining two years ago. From the moment she arrived, she brought a unique energy to the station, seamlessly blending in as if she had always been part of it. Slowly, she had also changed Buck. He’d always been hesitant about relationships after so many failed ones and doubts about how he expressed love. But when it came to her, none of that mattered.

She was the one he’d asked to share his huge loft. She’d chosen the couch they often ended up napping on together, and she was the one who made breakfast for both of them every morning. They knew each other better than anyone else did, and despite spending almost every moment together, they never got bored of one another.

“I like your hair lately,” Buck said, seated in his armchair, watching the morning news with a cozy sweatshirt and a temporary leave for his sprained shoulder.

“Is that sarcastic?” she asked, tidying up the kitchen, organizing what had piled up during the past few hectic weeks.

“Why do you always think I’m being sarcastic with compliments?”

“Because you always sound like it,” she teased, approaching him with the little gift he had left for her on the kitchen counter.

But as she walked around to stand in front of him, the sight that greeted her left her stunned.

“Holy cow,” she whispered, wide-eyed, holding one of his dirty socks between her thumb and index finger.

“What?” he asked, reaching for the sock in her small hand, which seemed frozen in place.

“Are those boils?”

The first time was to convince herself. The second was to comprehend the hilarious coincidence between the mummy’s name and the rash erupting on his face. The third, fourth, and fifth were spent teasing him as her fingers brushed over his skin—despite her reluctance and a fair amount of healthy disgust at the blisters.

“You’re disgusted,” Buck said, smiling, ignoring the boils on his face.

“I’m totally not,” she lied, setting the sock down and abandoning the idea of scolding him for leaving it where she baked the cookies he always stole.

“I can see it in your eyes,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“Is my hair really that different?” she asked, changing the subject.

“You’re dodging the topic.”

She smiled, locking her gaze with his bright eyes.

“Say it—I’m disgusting.”

“Disgustingly irresistible, yeah.”

Buck, my beloved. This doesn't make sense, not even closely, and I'm not sure that I like it but I dreamt about this kind of fic last night and I had to write it down (it feels so dumb god). There are too few Buck fics! give me some recs pls

[militarymenrbomb]

I really like Travis. Can you tell?

[qoppybirdie]

i had a paramedic mood few weeks ago after reading a fic with her in it…drawings unrelated to the fic tho.

The one where shes holding the gray fox doll was meant to look more sinister but i didn’t know how to draw that exactly rip. Ill redo it sometime. Take that one as a draft version.

[nocturnixx]

if mgs3 wasn't set it the 1960s i know this would've been part of her movie trivia

[theriu]

I learned recently from family members that EMTs and paramedics are having trouble right now with people in accidents refusing to say whether they are biologically male or female, stating it’s “none of their business” and “doesn’t matter.”

Friends, IT DOES MATTER! Male and female bodies ARE biologically different and can exhibit similar symptoms for different reasons, and if the EMT doesn’t know which you are, THEY MAY NOT BE ABLE TO TREAT YOU because they can’t be sure what’s wrong! This is not a matter of gender politics, it is a matter of life and death! PLEASE, be honest with your healthcare provider, especially in an emergency! THEY DO NEED TO KNOW!

[longhardtransitionreturns]

I'm too weak to stand by the time my wife and our midwife decide it's time to transfer me to the hospital to give birth to our son. I'm splayed listlessly in the birthing pool, my red-rimmed eyes half slipped back in my head. The baby is lodged so tightly in my hips that any tiny movement sends sharp spikes of pain through my pelvis. Pushing is white hot fire and absolutely out of the question so I'm left skewered on the girth of my baby, too out of it from pain and exhaustion to have anymore input on what happens next.

When the paramedics arrive they do their best to hide their shock when they find a 350lb bull dyke with a buzz cut and biker tats inked across her swollen GG breasts grunting in a pool so small I'm touching all the sides.

They move away to confer, likely about moving someone my size, but I'm too out of it to be offended. My big, hairy pussy is bulged out so far it seems almost impossible there's no head showing. My wife Monica moves to my head and kisses my cheek. I can tell she's scared but trying to put on a brave face.

The paramedic who is clearly in charge, a tall, butch Black woman with short nails and even shorter hair, jumps into the pool and introduces herself as Jean before announcing her intention to check me. I'm briefly relieved another lesbian is going to be the stranger who is digging around in my pussy then I feel her fingers enter my overstuffed hole and I can't bite back a weak moan at the intrusion. She rubs my bulge gently near my clit and makes a shushing noise. My eyes roll back in my head involuntarily at the intimate touch. I'm hurting too bad for it to be pleasurable but it gives me a tiny ounce of relief nonetheless.

Monica is staring down at me with worry on her face when Jean announces to her team that the baby is stuck on my pubic bone and the first step to getting it unstuck is to get me standing. I barely have time to protest before the 3 muscled young men taking orders from Jean are helping lift my bulk from the tub.

Even with five people supporting my weight I am unable to keep myself from falling gracelessly into a wide squat as the weight of my huge child drops down even further. My bulging pussy hits the water as I feel the unmistakable sensation of urgently crowning what must be an absolutely huge head.

I'm screaming about the fire in my crotch as Jean takes one of my meaty thighs, the biggest paramedic takes the other, and the other two support my back as I am lifted, legs spread around my crown, onto the floor beside the birthing pool.

The best case scenario, Jean tells me over my screaming sobs, is that I push it out right here and she and her team give me and baby a ride to the hospital. It looks like that might work for a few pushes but I'm fading faster than before and don't have much to give in the way of help. She briefly considers forceps but would rather get me to the hospital if my baby is still in danger of breaking my pelvis when I push him out. She reaches inside my rubber band tight lips to feel where the head had previously been stuck on a bone and noticeably pales.

She doesn't say anything out loud to alarm me or my wife but she tells her team with harsh urgency that we are transferring to the hospital immediately. I'm being moved again, still with my legs spread wide by men on either thigh, on to a bariatric stretcher and rolled out of my living room before I can even think to protest being rolled out of my front door naked, my crowned, leaking pussy bared for for all our straight, conservative neighbors to see.

I hear Jean telling Monica and our midwife that they're going to have to meet us at the hospital. Between my size and the seriousness of my potential injuries, they need all the room they can get to keep me intact until I'm able to be rushed into emergency surgery.

I don't hear whether my wife argues or not because I'm being lifted up into the ambulance. The jostling sends a sharp, warning pain through my pubic bone and I scream for them to stop moving me. Jean yells almost at the same time, glaring at her subordinates. She orders them to freeze with my feet tilted up into the ambulance and then leans down to place her palm firmly against my crown.

The counter pressure immediately eases some of the burning sensation around my lips and the ominous aching in my pelvic bones. I lay my head back and groan at feeling, for the first time since I hit transition, some of the pain lessening rather than intensifying.

I focus on how good it feels to have Jean pushing back on some of the insane pressure in my cunny while they settle me into the ambulance. A strap is placed around my straining middle and the stretcher is locked into place. One of the nameless young men starts an IV as the sirens start blaring and I feel the ambulance start to move.

Jean, still holding my crown, tells me her colleague is giving me something for the pain and that a surgical team is being assembled right now to meet the ambulance and rush me into the operating room.

"Everything's going to be just fine, Libby. You and your baby are going to be just fine as long as you don't push. No matter how bad you need to bear down, you can't. You will break your pubic bone and probably your tail bone and you really don't want to do that."

I don't. I've already started to feel the effects of the drugs and I'm still in more pain than I've ever been in my life but there is a thin, hazy distance from it now. I feel the warmth of Jean's hand around my crown and I blink up at her with what I think might be close to a flirtatious smile.

"Just don't move your hand, baby," I mumble and she clearly understands because her cheeks redden and she cracks a wide, slightly embarrased smile.

"Alright, Sappho. Glad those drugs are starting to work."

I probably wasn't going to respond because I was seconds away from passing out when suddenly the ambulance is hitting something with extreme force and my gravid body is bouncing up into the air. I see, as if in slow motion, Jean's steadying hand get ripped away from my pussy.

I'm slammed back down on to the stretcher and, inevitably, my bones shatter. When they give way my baby is ejected out to his shoulders before anyone can stop him to try to spare me even greater injury.

I'm writhing and screaming incoherently as I feel Jean gingerly pull my son out the rest of the way. I can feel his heft shifting around pieces of bone in me as he slithers out and I am acutely aware how badly I wish I could lose consciousness.

I don't. When my son leaves my body to be handed off to one of the men and my clenching cavity clamps down on nothing, I am catapulted into another stratosphere of pain. I start hyperventilating and am barely able to understand Jean as she straddles the stretcher in between my legs and starts to touch my lips.

"Libby, hold on for me, honey. I'm gonna do something and it's gonna hurt like the dickens and then it's going to feel amazing. Just keep breathing for me, sweetheart."

Why I look down right at that moment I will never know but I watch her gloved, fisted hands plunge into my pussy and my asshole at the same time. I use my last remaining strength to wail in protest as it feels like a white hot iron is being rammed through my pelvis. Then she does what can only be described as a punch with the fist in my cunt and I almost throw up with how suddenly relieved I feel because of whatever Jean's hands are doing to hold my gravely injured body together.

Don't get me wrong. I'm still in agony. But between whatever Jean's fists just did and the drugs starting to kick in even more, I'm barely able to do anything other than lay there and whimper.

When we get to the hospital the medics have just taken me down from the ambulance when Monica runs up. She takes in Jean, straddling the stretcher in between my legs and then the position of her fists in both my holes. My face is a rictus of pain and shock and I'm horrified to discover I can't talk. I'm not even able to close my mouth when I feel drool slipping down my chin.

I look up at my wife, who's being handed our 15lb baby. She walks beside my stretcher as I'm rushed in to the trauma bay. I fight with all my will to be able to muster up the strength to say one more thing to the love of my life before the drugs pull me under completely. The fact that I'm about to almost die on the table three times because I'm silently hemorrhaging into my abdomen as we speak is the only thing that comes between me and divorce later so stupid were the words I chose to say.

"Jean's hands feel so good in my ass and my pussy. God, it feels so good."

[xinalw]

Lawlu paramedic AU…

Lawlu paramedic AU, in which Luffy is a college student volunteer and Law is an underpaid overworked depressed med student fighting for his life

I’m gonna make part 2 now hehe I’m rlly excited

[roman-noodlezz]

I take my NREMT-P exam today! Wish me luck!

[dead-fandom-society]

A good EMS agency thrives off of unmedicated adhd and one massive trauma bond

[sugas6thtooth]