#but calling 911 saying 'i heard shouts and then the fire alarm' feels like it might bring an inappropriate response

[taperwolf]

Always fun when one of the big old outside fire alarms goes off at one of the apartment buildings here.

There had been some shouting outside, maybe a scuffle of some sort, and then the wailing, piercing noise of an actual mechanical bell alarm came on. After first checking that it wasn't this building, and that there were no detectable flames or smoke, I got the non-emergency fire department line called and gave them basically that report. I just want to make sure somebody with the authority/ability to turn the alarm off arrives.

Got off the phone with them nearly 15 minutes ago and there have been no signs of either emergency vehicles or of an actual fire, so I guess we wait.

And I'd been about to go to bed, too.

[marjansmarwani]

I think the end of it all may look a lot like the beginning

5.6k || ao3

When TK wakes up in the middle of the night to find Carlos's neighbor's house on fire with her son trapped inside, of course he has to go in. There was never any version of this where he didn't. Carlos knows that too - it's one of the things he loves about the other man. But when things go from bad to worse in an instant and Carlos is left on the outside and TK is left facing the possibility of the end, there's nothing either of them can do but hope for the best. ----- Written for the "surrender" square of my @badthingshappenbingo board

This idea completely came out of no where one morning but with some help and enabling from @firefighterstrand, we got here. I am still no where close to getting a bingo, but I am at least back to working on the prompts at least a little. Beta’d by the lovely @officereyes

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At first, TK’s not sure what wakes him up. 

He tended to be a light sleeper — years of sleeping on shift and having to wake up for an alarm will do that — but when he blinked open his eyes, he couldn’t figure out what woke him in the first place. He’s in Carlos’s bedroom and all seems quiet. He laid quietly as he listened, trying to identify the source of the disturbance. It’s a while before he hears it: distant shouting, coming from outside the condo. He frowned, but bolted upright when he caught a scent in the air that is all too familiar: smoke, and a lot of it. 

He slid out of bed and crossed to the balcony, peering out the glass doors and feeling his stomach drop when he saw the familiar angry orange glow coming from down the street. He cursed as he reached for his shirt, pulling it on as he leaned over to shake Carlos who was still sleeping soundly on his side of the bed. 

“Carlos, wake up. One of your neighbors’ houses is on fire.” 

Carlos’s eyes opened and he sat up, blinking at TK for only a moment before the words registered and his eyes widened. He swung his legs out of the bed and stood to follow TK who was already at the door and turning towards the stairs. They jogged across the street and down 4 doors until they joined the slowly growing crowd outside the burning home. TK looked to Carlos, who pointed to the anxious woman near the front of the crowd, “That’s Mrs. Melendez. It’s her house, she has two kids and her husband usually works nights.”

TK nodded at the information, following Carlos as he pushed through the crowd, most of the neighbors parting as they recognized him. “Mrs. Melendez!” he calls as they get closer, “is everyone out?” 

The woman turned her anxious, tear filled gaze to them, “I was able to get to Anna on my way out but I couldn’t get to Zach’s room and I haven’t seen him out here!” 

TK stepped forward, making sure to keep his voice even and calm as he asked, “Where is his room Ma’am?” 

Mrs. Melendez looked hesitant but Carlos placed a reassuring hand on her arm, “he’s a firefighter Theresa, let us help.” 

She gave a shaky nod and turned back towards the house, “his room is the first floor, that third window from the left.” 

TK nodded and studied the house. Distantly he heard Carlos still speaking to mother in his soothing tone, confirming that they had called 911 already but he was too focused on the flames to really listen. So far the area that Theresa had indicated her son might be in was clear of the flames, but judging by the way they were eating through the structure, it wouldn’t be for long. The kid could be rescued, but he needed to be rescued now; they couldn’t wait for a fire company to show up. 

“I’m going in.” 

Carlos broke off his reassurances abruptly, “No you are not.”

“I have to Carlos.” He lowered his voice so the anxious mother couldn’t overhear, “Those flames are moving too fast, the kid doesn’t have time to wait for a fire company to get here.” 

“You can’t just go in there without your gear, TK! Just because you’re a firefighter doesn’t mean your invulnerable—you’re still just as flammable as anyone else. I would stand just as good of a chance as you would!” 

TK scoffed, “That’s not true, and you know it. I might not have my gear but I still have years of training and experience, Carlos. I know how to deal with flames and how to avoid them. Someone going in right now is that kid’s only hope of surviving, and I have the best chance of making it out.”

He held Carlos’s gaze as he processed his words. He knew he was right, and he knew Carlos knew it too. He might not like the idea of TK diving headfirst into danger, but he knew what the alternative was and they both knew they couldn’t live with that. 

TK could tell the moment Carlos relented, when he accepted the inevitable. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and he gave a small sigh: “Just, be careful, okay?” 

“I always am,” TK retorted. 

Carlos raised an eyebrow, “And here I thought we didn’t lie to each other.” 

TK grinned at him, leaning forward to give him a quick kiss, “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

Carlos still looked doubtful, but nodded, giving him a smile as TK turned and toward the burning structure. 

Getting in was easy, so was finding the correct hallway. He was starting to feel optimistic, confident in the promise he had made Carlos, but as he got closer to his destination he could see a change in the smoke. It was thicker now; dark and heavy and moving through the open air fast. He grimaced as he noticed; he may not have as much time as he thought he did. He would need to move quickly—smoke that heavy was never a good sign. 

He found the right door and pressed a hand against it experimentally. It was cool to the touch and he pushed it open, looking around the room for any sign of a kid. 

“Zach?” he called as he glanced around, “Zach, my name is TK and I’m a firefighter. I’m here to help you get out, outside the house to your mom and sister.” 

There was no answer and on a hunch he kneeled down on the ground next to the bed, leaning down so he could peer under it. There was a small boy pressed against the far wall, eyes wide and clutching a teddy bear tightly to his chest. 

“Hey, Zach, my name’s TK,” he said, keeping his tone as soothing and low as possible, “I’m here to get you out of here, back to your mom and sister. Can you come out from under there so I can help you?” 

The kid shook his head frantically, gripping his bear harder, “There’s fire out there,” he told TK, eyes wide. 

“Yeah, there is buddy, but I can get you out. I’m a firefighter.” 

“You don’t look like a firefighter. You don’t have a helmet.” 

“You’re right, I don’t. It’s my night off so I don’t have it with me. Think of it like Superman without his cape: I can still help you.” 

The boy seemed to consider that. After a few moments he shook his head and spoke again, “I’m scared, I don’t want to come out.” 

“It is scary Zach, you’re right. But I can help you get out of here safely, I just need you to trust me. Think you can do that?” He reached a hand under the bed, holding it out for Zach to take. 

The kid looked at his hand for another moment and TK felt sweat start to bead up on the back of his neck, and he knew it wasn’t just from nerves. They needed to get out of here, now. 

Zach looked over at him again, meeting TK’s eyes, “Like Superman?” 

TK chuckled, “Yeah buddy, like Superman.” 

Zach nodded and finally took TK’s hand, allowing himself to be pulled out from under the bed. He came out coughing and TK glanced around before picking up an abandoned t-shirt from the floor and pouring the contents of the partially filled glass of water from the nightstand onto it. He held it out to Zach, “here. Hold the wet part over your mouth and nose, it’ll make it a little easier to breathe in here.” The little boy took it and did as TK asked as he looked to the door. 

The smoke leaking under it was even thicker now, but he crossed over and placed a cautious hand on it anyways, pulling it away with a grimace. They wouldn't be getting out that way, that was for sure. He glanced around the room, Zach’s hand still held tightly in his own while his other clutched the t-shirt to his face as he located the window. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. He led Zach over to it and undid the lock before throwing it open. He called out even as he worked on freeing the screen, breathing a sigh of relief when Carlos heard him and ran over. 

“Fancy meeting you here,” he quipped as he finally freed the screen, sending it clattering onto the ground outside. 

Carlos gave him an unimpressed look but stepped closer, “All good there?” 

TK nodded, “Yes, but it’ll be even better if you could grab my new friend Zach here.” 

Carlos smiled at the sight of the young boy, reaching out to take him from TK’s grasp as he lifted him to the window ledge, “Hey there Zach, your Mom is going to be really happy to see you.” He set Zach down on the ground where he immediately set off running for his Mother, who happily pulled him into her arms. Carlos looked back at TK, “Now you. Here, let me help you.” 

Carlos held out a hand but TK rolled his eyes, “Please, like I don’t know how to climb out of a bedroom window.” 

Never one to miss a step, Carlos raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to say something suggestive, more likely than not, but whatever retort he had been about to give died on his lips. His eyes widened and everything seemed to move in slow motion as his gaze turned back to TK with fear in his eyes, mouth moving but TK wasn’t able to hear what he said. A loud crash from above covered any sound Carlos might have made and TK only had an instant to dive away from the flaming debris that careened towards him.

Unfortunately that meant diving back into the bedroom, that was already on fire. 

He landed hard on his right side, groaning as he tried to push himself up. He wrist gave out on him as he tried and he collapsed back on the ground, eyes now stinging with the combined force of the pain and the smoke rapidly filling every square inch of the room. He shifted and tried again, pushing himself up with his good hand, surveying the room as he rose. The smoke was everywhere, but there was still a corner free of flame, and he headed towards it. 

He sank onto the ground, chest heaving with heavy coughs as he pulled his t-shirt up to cover his mouth and nose. The thin material wouldn’t really provide much of a barrier to the heavy smoke, but it was better than nothing. He scanned the room, looking for any way out, any signs of an exit. There weren’t any. The window was blocked by flaming debris and the heavy black smoke coming from under the door told him that there would be no escaping that way. He hit his head on the wall behind him in frustration. There was an irony here that almost made him laugh: if he hadn’t taken tonight off he would likely still be in the same situation. He would just be in it with his gear and his team at his side. 

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though: he had taken the night off to spend with Carlos, to celebrate their relationship. Two years - it seemed like an unbelievable number. It felt like both so much time and not enough all at once. Any night with Carlos was never a night ill spent, but this one in particular had been one he knew he would savor. He clutched at his left hand, fingering the unfamiliar weight of a ring on his finger. Even if this was it, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. His only regret was that Carlos would be left with nothing but the memories and a matching ring of his own, and the knowledge of what they were on the way to be. 

His chest ached as he was attacked by another round of coughs but his mind thought again of their last look, at the fear in Carlos’s expression in the split second before they had been so rudely and abruptly separated. He had no doubts that even now Carlos was frantically waiting just outside, trying desperately to find anything he could to help, any way he could save TK. But Carlos had saved him so many times, eventually the day had to come when he couldn’t. 

The room grew warmer and his eyelids heavier. It wouldn’t be long now. His only other thought was for his team. He hoped they weren’t the ones to respond. He knew they would move heaven and earth to save him, but he also knew enough to know that it was too late now. Whatever fire company showed up would be doing retrieval, not rescue. He didn’t want them to have to find his corpse. He couldn’t bear to think of them going through that, especially not his dad. If they were the ones to show up he just hoped the rest of the team kept him out. He didn’t need to see this. 

It was harder to breathe now. He knew what was coming; he had spent most of his life surrounded by fire, he knew how it killed. It wasn’t normally the flames that got you, but the smoke. And there was plenty of it: it filled every square inch of the room and made his vision blur and his head swim. 

He thought once again of Carlos and his heart ached. He loved him so much, they had been so happy. These past two years with him had been the happiest of his life. He wished that they didn’t have to face an end before they had gotten another beginning—they had been so close to it. Maybe in some way this was a blessing; facing an end now when he had finally found the happiness he had spent so much of his life seeking. Maybe it was kinder this way. 

Regardless of how kind it may or may not be, it was fitting. He had spent his entire life surrounded by fire in one way or another. Time and time again he had been told his recklessness would get him killed, time and time again he had been told his propensity to run into fire would be his end. Turns out they had been right. Firefighting and saving people was his purpose in life, it was only right that it would also be his end. 

His last conscious thought was of Carlos. He loved him so much, he hoped he knew. He was pretty sure he did. Then, with a final breath, he surrendered to the smoke.  

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

Carlos stared at the spot where TK had been in horror. It was now an unbreachable wall of flaming debris, a wall of flames separating him from his fiancé. He stared at it with growing dismay, mind reeling with all the awful possibilities. Was TK able to get clear? Was he crushed by the collapsing ceiling or had he dodged it, only to be trapped in a room he was sure was filled with smoke and flames? Was he suffering? Was he even still alive? Every thought he had was worse than the last. 

The arrival of a fire truck pulled him from his rapidly spiraling thoughts and he turned to see the familiar numbers 126 with equal parts relief and dread. He would have to be the one to tell them and he didn’t want to see the fear he was feeling reflected on anyone else’s face. He watched them bantering as they climbed out of the truck, laughing at something even as he crossed the crowd towards them. It was Paul who spotted him first, his pleasant expression sliding off his face as he called to the other members of the team, alerting them of Carlos’s presence. 

By the time he reached them a few seconds later they were all looking at him. The mood had shifted and the air felt heavier now. He can sense the worry and fear rolling off of them as their eyes collectively searched the crowd: they all knew TK was with him tonight and now he’s nowhere to be seen with a flaming house in the background. It doesn’t need to be said, but Carlos does anyways. 

“There was a kid trapped,” he blurts out, “and TK said he didn’t have enough time to wait, so he went in. He got the kid out through a window, but then part of the ceiling collapsed and he got trapped inside.” 

Owen nodded grimly, expression tight, “How long?” 

“He went in about four minutes ago, and he’s been trapped for about one.” 

Judd lets out a curse and the others look even more worried. Owen heaves a shaky breath before he’s giving orders, “Okay, Marwani and Stickland, you’re with me and we’re going in. Ryder you stay out here with Chavez and get the hoses ready to go. This structure is going to be fully engulfed in a matter of minutes, we need to be ready to attack it.” 

“Cap, you’re not going in.” 

All eyes turned to Judd, but his gaze was focused on Owen. 

“Judd, I…” 

“Shouldn’t be going in, and you know it. You need to be out here, monitoring the situation. You said it yourself: this whole thing could change in a second, you need to be out here to make the calls that need to be made.” 

“Judd, it’s my son.” 

“Which is exactly why you shouldn’t go in!”

The two men locked eyes for a second before Judd’s expression softened, “You know we’ll do whatever we can to get him out, Owen. He’s our family too and he doesn’t have the time for us to stand here and argue.”

Carlos could tell by the way Owen’s shoulders slumped that he had relented. He looked defeated for the blink of an eye before he straightened again, “Go and get him out, please.” 

Judd nodded and turned to Carlos, “Is there anyone else in the house?” 

“No, it was just the kid trapped and TK already got him out. He was in the second bedroom to the left.” 

Judd nodded gratefully, already pulling in his gear, “Okay, Marwani, you’re with me then. Grab an extra O2 mask for TK, he’s gonna need it. Strickland and Chavez, get those hoses ready...and have EMS standing by.”  

“Judd,” Owen called as he and Marjan turned to walk away, “keep the line open. I need to know what’s going on in there.” 

It wasn’t so much an order as it was a desperate plea, but Judd nodded all the same, “Copy that Cap. We’ll get him.” 

With that they were gone and there was nothing more for Carlos to do than wait. He reached unconsciously towards his left hand, running his fingers over his ring; so new it still felt foreign on his hand. It felt strange and new, but it also felt so right. He felt eyes on him and noticed Paul watching him. Their eyes meet for a second and Carlos can tell by the grim set of his mouth and the emotion in his eyes he knows, that he pieced together what promise they had made tonight before the world went to hell. The firefighter gave Carlos a sympathetic look as before he was gone, rushing over to help Mateo with the hoses, getting ready to provide support as needed. 

Carlos stays close to Owen, both for the solidarity of sharing this fear and for the updates coming through his radio. Hearing Judd’s voice through the radio was a solid comfort: help was on the way, and it was help that wouldn’t leave TK behind for anything. Soon they’re announcing that they have reached the room in question and Carlos is aware that he has stopped breathing. He waited breathlessly for an update, for news that will either set his world spinning again or send it crashing down around him. Distantly he heard Marjan and Judd talking, keeping tabs on their progress through the flames. It’s all background noise to Carlos until he heard Marjan calling out TK’s name. He waited anxiously for an update, needing to know but dreading the knowledge. After a few seconds of indistinct chatter he heard Judd’s voice, strong and clear and directed at the radio, “We’re bringing him out now. He’s unconscious and I don’t think he’s breathing, but we need to get out now.” 

Owen reached for his radio with a shaky hand even as he waved Tommy over, “Copy that, medical will be standing by. Just get yourselves out of there in one piece.” 

The moments before they emerge seemed to drag on forever, but finally they emerge, forming a strange silhouette against the bright flames lighting up the night. It’s Judd and Marjan for sure, with a third slumped figure resting over Judd’s shoulder, Marjan standing close enough to keep a supporting arm on him. With a jolt Carlos realized the limp figure was TK and he could feel the dread rising within him with each step they took that he didn't react to. As soon as they were clear of the fire they raced over. Judd gently placed TK onto the ground and Tommy stepped in a split second later, already calling out instructions to Nancy. The others hesitated, looking down at their fallen friend who was far too pale and far too still to be TK, but the roar of the flames behind them forced them to jump back into action. There was still a fire to extinguish and that was their job, just as taking care of TK was Tommy’s. 

The others rushed off to tackle the flames but Carlos sank down to his knees beside TK’s still form, placing a gentle but shaking hand on TK’s arm, silently praying to anyone who would listen to let him be okay. Distantly he saw the crowd edging closer, Theresa with her hands on Zach’s shoulders at the foreground. She lifted a hand to her mouth in horror as she took in the scene, eyes flicking from TK’s still form to Carlos’s terrified gaze, but Carlos can’t focus on the pity or sympathy of his neighbors right now. All that mattered was that TK wasn’t breathing and that Tommy hadn't said a word. 

He moved his hand up TK’s arm to his cheek, caressing it tenderly as he waited, eyes tracking Tommy as she leaned over him, the seconds stretching on, each one weighing more and more with her silence. Finally she looked up, meeting Carlos’s gaze. 

“He has a pulse,” she told him, “but it’s faint. He needs to get to a hospital now, so if you’re coming I suggest we go.” 

He nodded quickly, hopping up and standing back as they got TK ready to transport, allowing the racing of his heart to slow just a bit. He knew that this didn’t mean everything was okay, he knew that there was a still long night of worry and fear ahead of them. He knew that there was still a chance for the worst to happen. 

But right now TK was alive and as long as that remained true, Carlos could handle anything. 

----------

When TK is aware again, he’s surprised to hear voices. 

There is more than one and they seem somehow familiar to his hazy mind, but he just can’t get his brain to work long enough to make the connection. He’s aware he’s drifting again even as he tries to open his eyes. It takes a few tries, he thinks, and he’s not sure how much time has passed but eventually he is able to blink them open and slowly take in his surroundings. The lighting and the feel of the sheets around his body and the ambient noise floating through the room all add up to mean one thing: hospital. That means he made it out, that means he hadn’t died in that room after all. 

He goes to move his hand but stops when he feels a weight against it. He turns his head to locate the source and sees his dad sitting in the chair beside his bed, hand resting lightly on top of his own as he runs his thumb across the back of the cast enclosing it, gaze directed towards the open door. 

“Dad?” he asked, or at least he tried to. His voice is so hoarse he’s not entirely sure there were any syllables at all, but it seemed to do the trick. His dad started and turned to face him quietly, his face breaking out into a wide, relieved grin at the sight of TK looking at him. He reached out a hand to cup his cheek as he leaned closer, “Hey kiddo, it’s so good to see your eyes open.” 

Something in his dad’s tone and the moisture in his eyes makes TK pause. He’s emanating relief, and it’s palpable. “How long was I out?” he asked, dreading the answer. One coma was more than enough for a lifetime, he had never wanted to put his loved ones through that ever again. 

“It’s been two days,” his dad told him softly, running a hand through his hair, “they had you sedated for most of the time so they could keep you intubated. You...you were so oxygen deprived, it was all they could do to keep your body functioning long enough for you to heal. They took you off the vent early this morning, but we weren’t expecting you to wake up for a while now.”

He stared back at his dad, so many unanswered questions vying for attention in his still hazy brain. But something about the way he had said “we” struck him and he did his best to look around the room, frowning when he didn’t see anyone else. 

“Carlos?” he asked, heart thudding at the implications of his absence. Had something happened? Had he tried to follow TK into the structure when he got trapped? Was he hurt?

“He just stepped out for a few minutes to get some air and some coffee,” his dad assured him, squeezing his hand tighter, “he’s okay. He’s been here the entire time, I finally convinced him to take a break just a few minutes ago.” 

TK nodded and let himself slump back against the pillows again as his heart rate returned to normal. “Is everyone else okay?” he asked his dad. 

Owen nodded, “They are, we’ve all just been worried about you. I know why you did it, but I still wish…” TK watched as he dad trailed off and shook his head, forcing a smile back onto his face, “I’m just glad you’re okay. You really scared us, kid.” 

“I didn’t mean to,” TK said softly, turning his gaze down to where his hand was fiddling with the blankets. 

“I know you didn’t,” Owen assured him, squeezing his arm reassuringly, “I just don’t like seeing you get hurt. None of us do.” He was quiet for a second as he studied TK until his gaze landed on his uninjured hand playing with the blanket. “That reminds me, have any news you’d like to share with your old man?” 

TK looked back up to meet his father’s gaze, taking in the raised eyebrow and grin. He was puzzled for a moment until his dad nodded towards his left hand and he looked down to see the simple gold band on his finger. “Oh,” he said, and his father laughed.

“Oh? That’s all you’ve got for me? You’re going to have to come up with something better than that, poor Carlos has been the only one with answers about that for the past two days, you’re going to need to help him out.” 

TK smiled softly as he stared down at the ring, running his thumb across the edge of it, savoring its weight against his hand. Much of what had happened was fuzzy, veiled by a haze in his mind and the memory of smoke in his eyes, but he does remember this. He remembers feeling the weight of this ring and all the reminders it brought him and taking comfort in that as the world had faded to black. He remembers, but he’s not sure how to put it into words. He looks up at his father, who is giving him a look of understanding. He opens his mouth, not quite sure what he is going to say, but he is saved by the sound of footsteps at the door. 

There’s a sharp intake of breath from the doorway and his gaze is pulled to the source to find Carlos standing in the doorway, two paper coffee cups clutched in his hands as he leans on the doorframe for support, eyes wide and shining. In his peripheral TK can see his dad look between them, a fond smile on his face. He stands up from his chair quietly, clearing his throat, “I’m going to give you two some time,” he announces as he heads for the door, pausing only long enough to take one of the coffee cups from Carlos and give him a warm squeeze on his shoulder. Then he is gone and there is no one else in the room except for them. Though if TK was pressed, he couldn’t think that there was anyone else in the world at this very moment but Carlos, who was heading towards him. 

When he reached the side of TK’s bed he leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead, lingering for a few moments longer than necessary as he sat down, setting down his coffee in favor of clutching TK’s good hand in his own. They studied each other for several long and silent moments before Carlos finally spoke, voice only marginally clearer than TK’s own, “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine Carlos, really,” TK assured him. “How are you?” 

“How am I? Ty, I’m not the one who nearly died from smoke inhalation.”

“No,” TK agreed, “but you were the one who had to watch, and wait. I know if it were you, I wouldn’t have been okay.” 

Carlos swallowed and looked down, threading their fingers together. “I was so scared,” he admitted quietly, “for a while there, I really thought I had lost you. I didn’t know how to handle that, I didn’t know what my life would be without you in it.”  

“For a while, I thought you had too,” TK confessed, voice low as he remembered what he had thought had been his last moments, his last thoughts, “I didn’t want to leave you. I am never going to want to leave you. But,” he said pausing until he met Carlos’s eyes, “if I ever do…”

“No, TK. We are not having this conversation. You just woke up, we’re not…” 

“If I ever do,” TK repeated more firmly, squeezing Carlos’s hand in his own, “you need to keep living your life. I will always love you no matter what, and that means I always want you to be happy. If anything ever happened, I need you to promise me you won’t shut yourself off. There is so much of you to give, Carlos. The world needs you in it.”

“The world needs you too TK,” Carlos countered, tears in his eyes and in his voice, “and so do I.” 

TK smiled sadly, reaching out his cast covered hand to touch Carlos’s cheek, “and I need you. And I don’t ever plan on leaving. If I have my way you are stuck with me until the end of time. I just need you to promise me that, just in case. Can you do that for me?” 

There was silence for a while before Carlos spoke again, “as long as you’ll do the same to me. I love you too much to think of you cutting yourself off from the world if anything were to happen to me.” 

“Okay,” TK replied softly, and Carlos nodded. 

“Okay,” he echoed. 

They studied each other for a few more moments before Carlos leaned forward, pulling TK into a kiss. It wasn’t deep or hungry, but it was gentle and lingering. It was full of love and relief, and it sent a warmth through TK’s body, bringing him more relief than any pain medication ever could. When they separated he paused, resting his forehead on TK’s and TK savored the closeness before Carlos slid back into his seat. 

“Just, promise me you’ll at least do your best to avoid near-death experiences moving forward? I don’t think my body can physically handle any more stress like this.” 

“The plan is to be together forever,” TK reminded him, “that’s what these are for, remember?” 

He held up their linked hands so his ring glinted in the fluorescent lights and Carlos smiled fondly, twisting their hands so he could see his own. 

“You know there were some questions about those,” he told him lightly. 

TK hummed in agreement, “Yeah, my dad mentioned.” 

“Now that you are awake I am officially pushing explanation duties onto you. Think you can handle that?”

TK nodded, turning his gaze back down to their linked hands and matching rings. “Yeah,” he told Carlos, looking back up to meet his eyes with a smile, “I think I can. I could talk about us for the rest of time.” 

And as Carlos matched his smile and TK used their linked hands to pull him closer, he knew it was true. Maybe they wouldn’t have forever, despite how badly TK wanted that to be true. There was so much uncertainty packed into every day, but one thing TK was sure of was that he intended to savor each and every moment he had with Carlos until the end of them. 

[page150]

The Stain 🧼 Peter Parker x Reader

Request: None 

Pronouns: None stated 

Word count: 3430 

Warnings: Mentions of glass shards  

It was huge. Right above the famous Spider-Man logo and neon pink. Neon pink! 

You stared at the stain in horror. In a few hours Peter was supposed to be on a stage in front of hundreds of people to accept an award and you had gotten a neon pink stain on his super suit. 

You had been in the lab to start working on a new project, but Tony and Peter always left it in a mess. After spending two hours getting it organized you started working. It was hard to focus, though. The lab smelled bad and no matter how hard you complained about the darkness Tony didn’t want to install better lights.

 You were mad you always had to clean up after them and that now you were starting late. It was just too much and when you added 35 ml of chlorine to your formula instead 30, the test tube you used exploded. Chunks of glass flew everywhere and just missed your face. Luckily you had ducked just in time but when you looked down you sighed at the spots of pink that were forming on your lab coat. 

“Just what I need,” You mumbled. “I’ve always wanted to look like a pink dalmatian.” 

 But when you looked down to start picking up the large pieces of glass you felt the world stop as you realized some of the formula had splashed onto Peter’s suit which had been crumpled up on the floor. 

“Shoot, shoot, shoot, shoot, no!” You shouted. You took off your googles and with a shaking hand picked up his suit. Uncrumpling it lo and behold, a bright pink stain where everyone could see it. You sat back down at the table and placed your head in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. Peter and Tony had spent hours customizing the suit and you ruined it.

 Regular dye wouldn’t have affected the suit but this wasn’t dye. It was a combination of chemicals, the wrong combinations of chemicals. A 5ml difference doesn’t seem like a lot but in this sense it was everything. The formula could have made that area of the suit weaker or caused something to short circuit. You wanted to continue to sit there in your misery, allowing yourself to snowball the situation but there was still the ceremony to worry about. 

You looked at your watch. The award ceremony was at 6 and you still needed to get dressed. It was 1:00pm on Saturday and you had 5 hours to get that stain out if you wanted to get to the place on time. You sat up and groaned. 

“I have to- I have to call him. But he’s going to be so mad at me. This is so so so bad, stupid!” You whispered to yourself. You fought the urge to smack yourself on the forehead and picked up your phone. Dialing the numbers you thought about what you would say. 

“Oh hey baby, you know that important event tonight that you have to dress up nice for. Well I ruined your suit! Yes, your super suit that you and your mentor worked on and you were super proud of.” That wouldn’t work, but before you could come up with another idea Peter answered the phone. 

“Hey, baby!” He chimed. His voice instantly made you relax a bit. 

“Hey, babe. Are you busy?” You replied nervously. 

“Actually I am. I was just about to call you for a favor. I’m with Steve and training’s going a bit longer than expected and I still have to practice my speech. Can you put my suit and my tux near the front door. Tony said he’ll bring it to the place.” 

“NO,” You shouted. “I- I can bring it when I arrive.” You felt your heart beat faster. If Tony came to get the suit now you wouldn’t have time to get the stain out. Peter sounded like he was thinking about it and you were hoping he would say yes. His voice came back over the phone. 

“Okay then! I’ll send you the address once I’m done working out. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” You mumbled out. Once you heard the ending click of the phone call you shot up. 

The suit wasn't like a regular suit made out of just fabric. It was more like fabric that covered plastic that covered hundreds of wires. It wasn’t something that could be just washed out. To deep clean it you had to specifically get the fabric part off and you had no clue how to do that. 

You grabbed the suit and ran up the stairs to the living room. 

“Hey Jarvis!” You called out. Sprinting into “your room” you sat down at the computer and started doing some research. Your room was really one of the many spare rooms Tony had in the building that he let you sleep in when things ran late. 

“Yes y/n?” Jarvis replied.  

“Call Ned please and tell him it’s urgent. Oh! And can you set an alarm for 4:30pm. I was going to leave later but I have to get Peter’s suit to him at 5. Before the award ceremony starts at 6.” 

“Of course. I’ll pair him to your computer once he answers.”

“Thank you!” 

A few seconds later Ned’s face popped up in the corner of the computer screen. Before he got a word out you unloaded everything onto him. You told him how frustrated you were because you were having a bad day, how the suit was now stained and that Peter doesn’t know about it. When you finished he stared at you in shock. 

“Wow y/n,” He gasped. “That’s uh, a lot.” He noticed your worried expression and gave a small smile. 

“But, I can help! I’ve even helped him with some updates to the suit. We’ll get the stain out, you’ll get dressed, and then you’ll deliver the suit to him and everything will go fine, okay?” 

You took a deep breath and nodded. Ned and Peter were both really good at calming people down. 

After a few minutes of brainstorming ideas you moved to the kitchen and had Ned on a tablet, propped up against a leftover cereal box. 

“Okay so I don’t think the formula will affect the internal composition of the suit, so that’s good. All we have to do is worry about getting the stain out and I already helped you disconnect the fabric from the plastic.” Ned chatted through the device. He watched as you came back into frame with the blue and red fabric. 

“Yeah, I checked the wires and everything seems fine. I had Jarvis pull up some of Peter’s available notes about the suit but most of them are private. It’s been in the washer twice and the stain hasn’t budged so we’ll have to go with plan B.” You explained. 

Plan B was to use fire to remove it. Fire should break up the molecules in the compound and have them float to the top of the fabric. Then all you would have to do is scrape off the remaining bits and then the suit was going to be fine. You placed a fire extinguisher and a bucket of water on the table. 

“Jarvis, please put 911 on speed dial.” You yelled. Natasha’s old mini flamethrower was placed firmly in your hand and even Ned had backed away from his camera. 

Flipping the switch, fire shot out from the tip and ran against the fabric of the suit. The stain seemed like it faded through the smoke but to your surprise once you turned off the flamethrower it was still there. 

“Maybe once I start scrapping it it will go away.” You thought to yourself. 

You grabbed a butter knife and began violently scrapping the neon pink imperfection. No matter how many times the silver knife went over the fabric, nothing changed.

“Look!” You cried. You held up the suit to Ned and he stared at it questionably. “I’m running out of time Ned!” 

You sat down in anger, your head heading back in your hands. 

“It’s okay y/n we still have time. How about you go get ready and when you come back we can try something else. I’ll even come with MJ to pick you up so we can get to the ceremony at 5. I think you would rather want to ride with us other than some random chauffeur.” He reassured. 

“Thank you so much, call me when you get here and Jarvis will let you in.” 

He said okay and hung up, leaving you in silence. You had to get this stain out before Peter saw or he would be furious. He would be embarrassed, humiliated. A superhero that can’t even have a clean suit, the news would eat him up! In a way you knew that you were overreacting but you were so stressed and this was another problem, YOU had to deal with. 

You took a shower and slipped on the outfit that someone had arranged for you. You did your hair and even though you realized how good you looked you couldn’t seem to get excited. Suddenly Jarvis spoke, “y/n it is 4:30pm and I have just allowed Ned and MJ to come into the building. You have 30 minutes to get to the award ceremony at 5. Leaving an hour before it starts.”

“Thank you Jarvis!” You replied. When you left your room and headed back into the living room you saw Ned and MJ coming out of the elevator. The theme of the ceremony was black and white and Ned was wearing a cute black tux along with his “formal” fedora. MJ was wearing a gorgeous white dress that had a slit in the middle of her stomach. Her heels clapped against the floor as she ran towards you, embracing you in a big hug. Feeling her warmth and remembering what you had done made you almost want to cry.

  “How are you doing? Well Ned told me how you’re doing but we’ll get the stain out.” You let out a long sigh. 

“I don’t know what to do MJ. I wish I could go back in time and just forget about my stupid project.” 

“It wasn’t stupid. It’s practically his fault for leaving his important suit on the floor. He’s always been gross. One time his room was so messy when we came over he had to make a web hammock attached to the ceiling so we could have somewhere to sit.”

You felt a smile creep onto your face, but you still didn’t feel completely better. In your head it made sense that it wasn’t your fault  but you still felt like it was. In a way though, MJ had given you an idea. 

“Wait! MJ, can you get the car running? This should only take a second.” Ned tossed her the keys and she walked back to the elevator. “Ned can you get the suit off the table and come with me to the lab? I have an idea!” 

“To the lab? Cool!” Ned exclaimed. He grabbed the suit and followed you into the hallway to the lab. You punched the code in while Ned was ooing and awwing at the super suit in his arms. The door opened and you both went into the lab. The dim lights went on and on the floor was what you needed. You handed Ned some goggles and a lab coat and you put one on yourself.

“Peter and Tony don’t like to wear these but Tony always sets his clothes on fire so I think we need them.” You explain. You and Ned walked over to the table you had been working on earlier. 

“This is where my test tube exploded. We don’t have much time but I think I know how to get the stain out. Can you place the fabric on the table?” Ned laid it on the table and backed away. 

“If you're doing what I think you’re doing you’re either a genius or a future hospital patient.” He joked. 

You felt a smile form on your face as you poured another 5ml of liquid nitrogen into a test tube. 

“I added an extra 5ml to my formula last time and the glass bottle exploded. I think if I add another 5ml to the stain the molecules will have more space to dissolve, making the stain turn into a fume that will disappear.” You said excitedly. 

“And if that doesn’t work what will happen?” Ned questioned. 

“I have no clue.” You replied. And with that you fastened your googles, tightened your lab coat, and poured the liquid onto the stain. A loud hiss was made and to your surprise pink smoke started to rise from the fabric. It went on for a few seconds until the hissing stopped and you waved your hand over it to clear the smoke. Setting your googles on the table you peered down at the fabric.

There was no stain! You leaped up and Ned ran over to give you another hug. 

“I can’t believe that worked!” Ned exclaimed! “I thought we were just going to have to lie to him. I already came up with two in my head!” You laughed at him and picked up the suit. 

“Okay, it’ll dry in the car and you can reattach it to the plastic. We have 20 minutes to get to the ceremony!” 

The both of you quickly took off your equipment and ran up the stairs, to the elevator, and out to the car that MJ had been waiting in. Once safely inside she drove off, fast enough that if you looked out the window for too long you would get sick. The minutes seemed to be passing by at twice their speed but you got to the ceremony with 5 minutes to spare and Peter was waiting for you at the entrance. 

“Hey, baby! I got worried you forgot to get here an hour early. Wait are you okay?” 

You thrusted his suit towards him and finally took a break. You rested your elbows on your thighs and tried to catch your breath. You had ran to get the suit to Peter and when MJ and Ned caught up they were also out of breath. 

Peter stared at the 3 exhausted people in front of him, confused. “Uhh, hey MJ, hey Ned. What happened?” He slowly rubbed your back and worried you were going to throw up. “It’s okay, y/n, you got here on time. Everything’s okay, heck even if you came a hour late I think it would be hard for me to get mad at you.” 

You gave a small smiled and stood up straight. He was so perfect. Peter gave you a smile and kissed you. You forgot about the suit, and the mess, and everything. It was like you two were in your own little word until Tony came in. 

“Y/N, MJ, Ned! I’m glad you made it. Thanks for bringing the kid his suit. Of course he forgot it.” Instead of messing with his hair like usual, he gave him a pat on the back. “Where’s the tux?” 

You felt your heart fall to your shoes. You forgot the tux! You had been so focused with the suit you-. 

“Here you go.” MJ stated. She handed him the tux in its protective covering. “He was so busy doing the smooching I couldn’t hand it to you.”  She gave you a wink and you grinned even more. 

“Great, great!” Peter beamed. “I’ll put the tux on and meet you guys back here. Then I can show you around.” He gave you another kiss on the cheek and went with Tony to the dressing rooms. Once they were gone you turned to MJ. 

“You’re a lifesaver MJ! And thank you Ned, I really couldn’t have done this without you.” You thanked. Both Ned and MJ gave you a smile. 

“Don’t worry about it! I got to go down to the lab! And I’m at a ceremony with The Tony Stark!” Ned exclaimed. His hands were waving around frantically and kept going up to adjust his fedora. 

“You’re welcome y/n, but I think you should tell Peter the truth. Maybe not all of it but if the lab is too messy for you to work maybe he can do something to fix it.” MJ added. You hadn’t thought about that, but this whole situation was a big wakeup call. 

“I will,” You decided. “ Once the ceremony ends I’ll talk to him. Now, I just want to relax, though.” You all laughed and sat down in the chairs that were placed in the lobby. 

The ceremony went great. Peter wore his tux and kept sneaking over to show you some new moves he learned. When the ceremony actually started he put on the Spider-Man suit in secret. The crowd was so loud when he came onto the stage you would have covered your ears, but you were too busy clapping with everyone. After it was over, Spider-Man “had to leave” but Peter returned. You pulled him off to the side. 

“Can we talk?” 

Peter looked at your worried expression and led you to an area where there weren't a lot of people. “Of course. I knew you looked bothered.” 

You let out another sigh and pulled up the picture of the suit with the stain on it on your phone to show Peter.

 “I ruined your suit earlier. I was in the lab working on something and I couldn’t see. I added too much of a chemical to my formula and the test tube exploded. Some of the formula went onto it.”  

Peter looked at the picture while you looked at the floor. You could feel some tears forming in your eyes. 

“I’m really sorry. I was able to get it out, but I still should have cleaned better before I started and I get I’m sorta new and I shouldn’t expect you to change how you and Tony work for me but it’s just so messy and dark and I can’t focus and-” 

“Darling it’s okay, it’s okay, don’t cry.” Peter reassured, he pulled you into a hug and started to rub your back again in a circular motion. “I can’t believe you got the stain out. I wouldn’t have known what to do if I had gotten it there.” He joked. “But, you could have told me, I would have gone home to help you.” This time he let out a sigh. “It’s not your fault, though. I definitely should have put it back in its case.” You nodded and let out a small laugh. With each breath you could smell some of the cologne Tony probably sprayed on him. It was a good decision. 

“I’ll clean up better and Tony will just have to manage. I’ll talk to him about it, okay? But the suit looks amazing, babe. You did a good job. I don’t think the logo has shined that bright since I got it. Plus Karen even told me that it felt fresher.” 

You pulled away and looked at his eyes. “You’re the best, you know that?” 

He flashed his famous smile, “I can’t be The Best if you're around. I can’t even compete.” He said sincerely. 

“And neither of you two are the best in general because I am.” Tony added. You rolled your eyes at his comment. “How much of that did you hear?” 

Tony frowned and shook his head. “Enough to wish I had left with Pepper when she said she was headed toward the Bar. And by-the-way neither of you get any ideas. I already notified the bartender I have four underaged guests that can only be served water and caprisuns.”  

“What type of caprisuns?” You asked. 

“Lemonade ones are the best.” Peter added. 

“I don’t know ones.” Tony mocked. “But anyway y/n I hear your concerns and that was good problem solving skills you had. The suit did look great. I’ll work on getting you your own section in the lab. It’ll be nice and bright and you can keep it however clean you want it. So, you’ll be close to us while we’re working and I won’t have to listen to you and Peter compliment each other 100 times a day.” 

You and Peter laughed and you felt his arm go around your waist. “That sounds great Mr. Stark, thank you.” You chimed. 

Tony had already started to walk away but you heard him call out, “Stop calling me Mr. Stark and I’ll buy you your own building to work in.” 

With that Peter grabbed your hand and you left the quiet area to where the after party was, to meet up with MJ and Ned. 

Author’s Note: Wow first Peter Parker imagine and it’s my longest one. Is this a sign? jk anyways I hope yall enjoy this! I might rewrite it and change it to first person because I keep getting confused lol. I think I should start getting into Marvel as this was really fun to write.  Please like, follow, and remember requests are open! I hope you have a wonderful day ~c’ k

[bby01boi]

Nightmares can come true

Fandom: 911 (TV)

Relationship: Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley/ Eddie Diaz, Bobby Nash/Athena Grant

Characters: Evan ‘Buck’ Buckley, Christopher Diaz, Eddie Diaz, Bobby Nash, Howard ‘Chimney’ Han, Henrietta ‘Hen’ Wilson and Athena Grant

Summary: Buck has a horrifying nightmare that becomes real life.

As the truck arrived on the scene the 118 was met with a giant apartment building fire, almost every window had smoke coming out of it "Ok guys gear up and get ready to go in!" Bobby shouts before going to talk to the person in charge.

After everyone is ready Bobby comes back with his wife Athena by is side "You boys be careful in there" she holds Buck and Eddie's shoulders but gives Buck's an extra squeeze "Ok, let's go!" Bobby shouts and they all run into the building, the entrance is engulfed in flames it's all a blur for Buck after that.

The next thing he knows they're all outside "Cap, there's someone still in there!" Eddie yells pointing to a window on the fourth floor, when Buck looked he could just notice someone's hand "You can't go back in there" Bobby tried to reason but Eddie wasn't having it, he ran past everyone and towards the entrance and then everything slowed down for Buck, he watched as the building exploded engulfing Eddie in flames, Buck's eyes widened with horror as he watched the love of his life burn to death.

"Eddie!" Buck screams as he wakes up in a cold sweat, he checks his surroundings only to find himself still in his apartment "not again" he groans, this is the fifth time he's had that dream, he sighs before getting up "might as well get ready for work" he walk towards the bathroom and starts the shower.

He exits the bathroom dressed in his uniform and drying is his hair "Hey Buck!" A voice shouts causing Buck to jump ten feet in the air "Jesus Christ!" Buck yells in surprise before removing towel over his head to see Christopher and Eddie sitting there smiling at him, he can't help but smile back "what are you doing here?" He asks the two Diaz's "Christopher thought it was a good idea that we three should go out for breakfast before work" Eddie answered and Christopher nodded his head "sounds great, let's go" Buck smiles  then picks up Christopher and starts tickling him as they exit Buck's apartment.

"Then the rabbit puts its paw on her mouth" Christopher laughed as he finished his story "That is funny" Buck chuckled while ruffling the kid's hair "c'mon you two we've gotta drop this little munchkin off before he's late" Eddie giggled as he pinched Christopher's cheek "the munchkin better get moving before the tickle monster arrives" Buck chuckles while wriggling his fingers Christopher screams in joy and quickly hurries to Eddie's car with Buck not far behind, Eddie laughs as he watches his two favourite boys laugh and scream with joy.

After they dropped Christopher off at school Eddie drove him and Buck to the station "thanks for breakfast today" Buck said putting his arm around Eddie's shoulder "anytime" Eddie smiles at Buck before they both walk up the stairs and join the others "where were you two? Ya missed breakfast" Chimney asks pointing his thumb towards the kitchen "Christopher and I took Buck out for breakfast" Eddie replied sitting on the couch next to Buck "That's cute, I bet Christopher had a great time" Hen said as she walked up the stairs "I think he's had so many attacks from the tickle monster he'll be giggling all day" Eddie giggled himself "careful there the tickle monster also goes for adults" Buck warned wiggling his fingers "don't you dare" Eddie chuckles "speaking of Christopher, he's got show and tell tomorrow and wants you to come" Eddie tells Buck who nods "tell him I'd be happy to go" then the alarm rang and they're off to a call.

They arrive at a nice neighbourhood to see a huge crowd at the park "move aside LAFD" Bobby tells everyone and they part to make a path for them, Hen and Chimney notice someone laying on the floor and rush to them "he's been stabbed Cap, but the knife isn't in there anymore" Hen says while treating the patient and looking for the knife "does anyone know where the knife went?" Bobby asked everyone there but before they could reply a man shouted "right here!" And threw the knife towards Eddie.

Either out of adrenaline or pure luck Buck caught the knife before it could impale Eddie's chest, everyone was frozen with shock until the police arrived and the attacker tried to run for it but Bobby tackled him to the ground "are you okay?" Eddie asked Buck who was still frozen in shock and holding the knife "am I okay?! Are you okay?!" Buck yelled before dropping the sharp object and checking to make sure Eddie didn't get a single scratch on him "I'm fine, that was some good catching though" Eddie smiled and patted Buck on the shoulder and soon they were heading back to the station.

Hours had gone by and calls had been answered it was almost the end of the shift when one last alarm rang, the team groaned before getting up and getting ready. On the way there Eddie's phone rings "hey bud" he says into the phone "yeah I know, we have one more job and then Buck and I will be home for movie night" Buck looked at Eddie when he said his name "okay we'll see you soon, I love you too" Eddie then put his phone away "so which movie are we watching tonight?" Buck asked smiling happily "Tangled" they both laughed remembering the last movie night they had with Christopher.

Eventually they arrived on the scene, when Buck exited the truck he was met with an apartment building on fire, Buck dropped his helmet in shock it looks just like the one in his dream "hey, you okay?!" Chimney yelled over all the noise "yeah, I'm fine!" Buck yelled back as he picked up his helmet. "Ok guys gear up and get ready to go in!" Bobby shouts before going to talk to the person in charge. 'This is all just a coincidence, there is no way my dream is coming to life' Buck thought as he checked his surroundings and the building but then Bobby came back with Athena at his side.

"You boys be careful in there" she holds their shoulders giving Buck the extra squeeze, he's kinda starting to freak out but the others will probably tell him he's being silly or paranoid so he doesn't let it show "ok, let's go!" Bobby shouts and then they're all running into the building, like always the entrance is engulfed in flames.

It was all a blur to Buck right now they're all outside when Eddie suddenly shouts "Cap, there's still someone in there!" And suddenly Buck can't hold in the panic anymore his stomach plummets to the ground and his breathe shallows, he doesn't need to look to know that someone is waving at the window "you can't go back in there!" Bobby tried to reason, Eddie tried to run past but Buck was ready this time, he managed to grab onto the oxygen tank but Eddie undid the straps and continued on "Eddie stop!" Buck screamed panic is heard in his voice as he drops the tank and bolts after Eddie. Buck tackled him to the ground, shielding Eddie with his own body just as the building exploded.

Buck woke up to someone calling his name and shaking him gently, his body felt like he was ran over by the fire truck, he groaned before opening his eyes to see Chimney and Hen kneeling over him "Eddie" Buck croaked out trying to sit up but Hen gently pushed him back down "he's fine, Bobby is talking to him just over there" she pointed off to Buck's right "Mkay" Buck mumbled tiredly "hey, hey, hey, don't go to sleep on us" Chimney shook him a little "I'm trying not to" Buck mumbled blinking rapidly every now and then "nothings broken, just a few cuts and bruises, how are you feeling, Buck?" Hen asks helping Buck sit up "like I got ran over by the fire truck" Hen and Chimney chuckle before they help Buck stand up.

"Buck!" Eddie yelled as he ran over and hugged Buck tightly it hurt like hell but Buck didn't care as long as Eddie was alive, Buck gripped him back just as tight as tears sprang to Buck's eyes "shh, it's okay, I'm okay, we're okay" Eddie whispered into Buck's ear while rubbing his back "you died" Buck whined gripping tighter, the others looked at him confused "Eddie is alive Buck" Hen said confused while pointing to the said man, Buck shook his head "in my dream, he died every time"

Hot tears leaked from Buck's eyes "you had dreams like this?" Eddie asked confused as he wiped Buck's tears, Buck shook his head again "everything is the same, the blazing entrance, you seeing someone waving in the window and then disobeying Bobby, I've watched you be burned alive five times" Buck hiccups throughout his explanation "well this time you saved me" Eddie says softly then kisses Buck's forehead "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere" Buck chuckles before pulling Eddie in for a kiss "thank you" he whispers after.

The next day at Christopher's school it was show and tell "okay Christopher, it's your turn" the teacher says, Christopher grabs Buck's hand and walks to the front of the room "this is my Buck" said man was looking at Eddie in shock 'I'M HIS SHOW AND TELL!' Buck thinks to himself before zoning back into Christopher's speech "he has saved me from a tsunami with a bad leg, he always lets me win at video games, he makes my dad happy and just last night he saved my dad from an explosion, this is my Buck and my other dad" Christopher finishes with a big smile, Buck was about to cry "alright that's it, you're being too cute" Buck giggled before grabbing Christopher and tickling him "the tickle monster returns!" Eddie laughs as he watches his two favourite boys laugh and scream in joy.

[set-phasers-to-whump]

poisoning

prompt: poisoning

whumpee: malcolm bright

fandom: prodigal son

what is up!!! hope u enjoy this fic with a questionable (aka made up completely) poison!

The library is loud and bustling with a dizzying array of activity, though the librarian behind the main desk doesn’t seem to mind. Possibly this is because the ones causing all the noise and disruption are the police. Possibly this is because she’s dead. 

Edrisa is next to her, leaning against the desk and writing in a notebook, Malcolm looking over her shoulder. Dani and JT are walking around the inside of the library, rounding up visitors and workers and shepherding them into one area. Gil is hunched over a computer with a security officer going over the tapes from the library’s video cameras. 

For about fifteen minutes, everything runs as smoothly as it ought to be. Edrisa looks over her notes on the body, chatting with Malcolm. JT and Dani finish rounding up everyone in the library and get to work examining the scene. Gil finds nothing of interest on the security tapes.

Then, Malcolm glances up from where he’d been looking at Edrisa’s notes. “I’ll be right back,” he says, and before she can ask him where he’s going, he’s hurrying off towards the back of the building. 

Someone’s back there. Malcolm had seen them. He knows they could just be a straggler, maybe someone who’d been in the bathroom while JT and Dani were rounding up everyone in the building, but something tells him that’s not the case. 

His suspicion seems to be proven correct when he steps out from behind a shelf and makes brief eye contact with the person, who turns and runs. 

Malcolm takes off after them, hearing someone behind him call his name but ignoring it. This very well might be their killer trying to escape! He doesn’t have time to call back a reply. 

The person runs into a small glass-walled conference room, slamming its door behind them. Malcolm sees them head for the opposite side of the room, where there’s another door…

He flings open the door to the room, but he’s too late - the person steps through the other door into some kind of hall space, and even as Malcolm runs up to it he hears a lock on the other side click. He slams a fist against the door, desperate to open it, but it’s no use. He heaves a sigh and prepares to leave and tell his team what he’s just seen. There’s still time to catch their killer at the scene of the crime, if he hurries.

Something clicks behind him, sounding not unlike a gun. He freezes, raises his hands, turns around...but there’s no one there. He squints his eyes, searching the room. He’d heard something, he had. 

Something is smoking in the corner. Better than a gun, he figures, but still. A fire. Great. He walks up to it, grabbing a plastic trashcan to cover it up with, and stops in front of it. 

It’s not a fire. It’s some kind of metallic sphere, leaking...some sort of gas that smells kind of funny. 

Malcolm scarcely has time to think, oh shit, before the gas starts acting on him. He feels his head start to spin, his legs start to shake, and frantically tries to reach the door, but he’s too late. He collapses to the floor a second before his hand touches the doorknob. 

--

“Bright?” JT steps around the bookshelf he’d seen the profiler duck behind moments before. And freezes. In front of him is a glass-walled room, quickly filling with smoke, a figure slumped, presumably unconscious, against the door. 

“Fire!” he shouts, and a second later he hears the alarm start to ring. There’s a panicked scream from the main room, and above the noise he hears Gil shouting out orders to the people in the building, telling them to get outside but stay close, telling his officers to make sure everyone is okay and to keep them close by. He hears Edrisa’s name, Dani’s name, his own name, Bright’s name…

“JT!” comes Gil’s shout, louder this time. “Detective Tarmel, where are you?”

“Back here!” he shouts back, approaching the smoke-filled room cautiously. He reaches out a hand and touches the doorknob, pulling it back instinctively at the expectation of heat. 

But it’s not hot. He reaches back out for the knob, wrapping his hand around it. It’s not hot. He puts a hand to the glass of the door. Also not hot…

“Gil!” he shouts, backing slowly away from the room. “Not a fire!”

Footsteps come up behind him, and he turns to see Gil, looking worried and now also confused.

“What do you mean, not a fire?” he asks. 

“It’s gas,” JT says. “No heat.” He taps his fingers on the glass for effect, then realizes that Gil can’t see the person behind it. 

“Bright’s in there,” he says, stepping away from the door to let Gil look at his unconscious figure, a dark shape against the grey smoke. “I didn’t know...if I open the door, that gas is gonna come pouring out into this building. And I have no idea what it is.”

If Gil had looked worried before, he looks almost panicked now. “I’ll call for hazmat technicians,” he says, pulling out his phone. “Do you know if there’s another way into that room?”

JT shakes his head. It’s an interior room with its back to a solid wall set through the building as a divider, so there may be another door, but it won’t be to the outside, which means opening it will cause the same problem as opening the door in front of them. 

JT waits as Gil talks on the phone, hating the feeling of not being able to do anything. He radios Dani to let her know what’s happening, and she tells him that the fire department’s there and coming inside. That’s something at least, he thinks, and tells Gil he’s going to bring them back to the room.

He meets the firemen at the front door and explains the situation as well as he can as he leads them to where Malcolm is. They pause in front of the room, the firefighters eyeing it carefully. Nothing happens for a beat. Then JT sees something…

“Shit,” he whispers, seeing the firefighters notice the same thing.

“Gil!” he calls to the lieutenant, who is still on the phone, his back to the action like he can’t bear to see it. 

Gil turns around, and immediately sees the problem, widening his eyes. The smoke is starting to seep out from under the door, thin white tendrils curling up from the floor. He informs the 911 operator of this latest development, nods, and then hangs up with a grim look on his face.

“Hazmat can’t get here for at least fifteen minutes,” he says, looking to the firefighters. “Any chance you can just...open the door and get him out?”

“Are you two the only ones left in the building?”

“Apart from him, yes,” Gil says.

“Good. You both get out and get everyone outside to back away from the building. We’ll get your guy out.”

Neither JT nor Gil is especially pleased with this directive, not wanting to leave Malcolm behind, but the firefighters have masks and they don’t, so they exit the building, guiding everyone outside away.

No more than a minute later, the firefighters return, one of them carrying Malcolm slung over their shoulder. They hurry him into an ambulance, and Gil goes to join them. “You and Dani are in charge,” he tells JT. “I want you to get everyone’s names and have our officers take those that are willing to give statements back to the precinct. The hazmat technicians will be here soon, and I want you and Dani to stay and help them set up a perimeter and answer any questions they have as best as you can.”

JT nods his assent as Gil steps into the ambulance. “Call us as soon as you know anything,” he says, seeing Gil nod as the doors close. 

--

Gil settles down in the ambulance beside Malcolm, who is lying flat on the stretcher, breathing shallowly, looking far too pale, and still unconscious, though not for long. A paramedic holds a smelling salt under his nose, and Malcolm jerks awake, much to Gil’s relief. It’s short-lived, though, when he sees the kid’s face scrunch up in pain.

--

The very first thing that he feels is his lungs. Which are on fire. They are absolutely burning with every shallow breath he takes, and he wishes desperately to go back to whatever state he’d been in before he’d woken up...wherever he was. An ambulance, he figures, if the sound of a siren and the blurred scenery around him is anything to go by. 

He coughs as he tries to sit up, feeling his head pound with the effort. The slight change in position is enough to make him wildly dizzy, and he’s grateful when a hand pushes him gently back down. Wait. He knows that hand. He squints his eyes, focusing hard enough to make out the shape of Gil sitting next to him, his hand still on Malcolm’s chest.

“Wh...happened?” he asks, coughing again. His chest burns hotter still. His head pounds. He waits for Gil to answer him.

Gil says nothing. 

“Gil,” Malcolm pleads, feeling like he’s spinning directionless in more ways than one. He doesn’t remember what happened to him, which is fairly terrifying. It could have been anything. Clearly it’s something bad, if Gil won’t tell him. 

“You were poisoned,” Gil says, finally, reluctantly.

He...definitely does not remember that. Still, he thinks grimly, it’s far from the worst thing that could’ve happened to him. He asks the next question that floats to the top of his brain. “W’th what?”

“A gas. We’re not sure what yet.”

That is horribly not reassuring, Malcolm thinks. It is interesting, though. But he’ll think about that later, he decides, as his head gives an especially painful throb. He closes his eyes as another wave of dizziness follows it. 

“You still with us, kid?”

He nods slightly. Unfortunately. God, he’s never been this dizzy in his life. 

“We’re almost there,” Gil continues, which Malcolm decides is some reassurance. The hospital, while far from his favorite place, is bound to have something to make his head stop hurting. Maybe they even have something to figure out what’s happened to him…

He lets those thoughts sustain them until the ambulance arrives, and then they’re moving him, and Gil’s walking beside him, talking about something Malcolm can’t focus on, because all he can focus on is his own body, which is not taking its sudden movement too well. It takes every ounce of his willpower to fight the nausea that rises in his throat, and his head pounds with every inch they move, and he barely manages to keep himself conscious. He just wants this to be over…

And suddenly, it is. They stop moving him along, and then someone gently lifts him up and places him onto a surface that he recognizes as a hospital bed, and something cold and wet touches his arm and then a needle slides into it. Seconds later, and finally, the pain of everything fades away. 

“You’re going to be okay,” he hears Gil say from beside him. He briefly wonders how Gil can possibly know that, but then sleep is pulling him under, and for once he doesn’t fight it.

thanks a million for reading this!!! i couldn’t find any kind of poison gas that worked how i wanted so i made it up completely....oh well lmao. hope u enjoyed!! if u tell me u did u will make my day!

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Peter and MJ, coworkers who barely know each other's names, but could draw each other's faces from memory, get stuck in the elevator together at the end of a work day

Thanks for the prompt, Anon! I started writing the fic for this so fast haha

Overheard at the Bugle

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: M Word count: 5394

Summary:

Peter's having a late night at the office and finds out he's not the only one working overtime right before he and the new reporter, Michelle Jones, get trapped in the Bugle's unreliable elevator. He just needs to handle this situation calmly and not do anything to give away his secret identity. It'd be easier to focus on the task at hand if his enhanced hearing wasn't picking up something very unusual coming from the voice recorder in Michelle's bag.

Peter tries to keep a low profile at the Bugle―he doesn’t need anyone giving a second thought to the guy who turns in crisp closeups of Spider-Man week after week―but he didn’t realize he’s invisible. He’s gotta be for the custodial staff to start shutting the lights off on his floor as he’s still sifting blearily through the emails that arrive every five minutes; they’re all stamped with Sent from J. Jonah Jameson’s iPhone. Almost in the dark, Peter snaps his laptop shut, shoves it into his messenger bag, and sprints for the elevators. He’s not scared of the dark (what kinda hero would that make him?), but after lights-out comes locking the doors and he’s not keen on spending the night here. Though his apartment might not be much, it’s his escape from work.

He skids around the corner to find the glow of an elevator that’s just closing.

“Hold it!” Peter shouts, shooting his hand out to part the doors as a frantic tapping comes from inside.

“I was pushing the button…” a woman explains as he steps in.

She turns her head and a spill of wavy brown hair is pushed aside to reveal the face of Michelle Jones. Peter swallows. His gaze goes from her startled brown eyes to her finger, now slipping off the Doors Open button.

“Yeah,” he says, adjusting the strap of his bag on his shoulder, “this thing can be temperamental sometimes.”

“Right. Ground floor, I assume?”

“Yep.”

He moves off to a respectful distance as she presses the button to take them down and the doors close. His heart’s hammering. Though he’s heard the confident tone of her voice plenty, she’s never specifically spoken to him. Nor he to her. Luckily, the walls of the elevator have an intentional burnish with the scuff of wear on top, so there’s no chance of her catching sight of his stare in their reflections. Peter doesn’t mean to, it’s just that she took her hair down. She mostly wears it twisted and pinned at the nape of her neck and probably just shook it out when she got into the elevator, heading home. He gets it. He has his tie jammed into his bag, collar unbuttoned, and sleeves cuffed up to his elbows. Nobody gives a shit about dress code after the boss is gone, especially if they’re working late with no guarantee of overtime pay. Quit looking at her, he thinks, and snaps his gaze down to the floor. He can still smell her shampoo, courtesy of the enhanced senses.

“Sorry about the lights,” Michelle offers, turning her head enough to address him, but not enough to meet his eye because he’s standing beside and slightly behind her. “I let one of the custodians know I was on my way out a few minutes ago. Thought I was the last one left.”

Peter frowns. That’s weird. Not what she says, but that, when she speaks, he thinks he hears an echo. My one-on-one exclusive with Spider-Man, it says, in the voice of the reporter currently sharing the elevator with him. He opens his mouth to ask Michelle if she hears it too and catches himself. That’s a habit he broke years ago, when he realized there are way more things other people can’t hear and it only risks freaking them out and exposing himself to reveal that his senses are more animal than human.

“Don’t worry about it,” he responds distractedly.

The first thing to know about Spider-Man is that he’s not a nine-to-five kinda guy. Without regular business hours, he joins me for this interview in my Brooklyn apartment on a Friday evening. The red suit is predictable; the rap he gives my living room window to announce his arrival smacks more of cheeky showmanship. This reporter has to wonder whether, for him, finally submitting to such an in-depth, sit-down conversation is a type of performance. Surely the man behind the mask knows his audience is rapt for any details on the life of a figure who, despite his status as a trusted friend to all, is so much a mystery to this city’s inhabitants.

Ok, what? Peter’s brain is spinning like a frisbee. He’s never given the kind of interview Michelle’s disembodied voice is describing, and definitely never given it to her. He’s never been to her apartment, doesn’t even know where she lives, and certainly isn’t eager to invite questions in some sort of exposé. Maybe what he’s hearing are just the notes she’s preparing for a future interview. Did Jameson assign this? He’s certainly nosy about Peter’s alter ego, but the tone of the piece is more curious than their boss’s usual style―scathing, obstinate, malicious. She sounds intrigued by Spider-Man, not like she’s luring him into a trap.

The elevator jolts. It grinds. It halts. Michelle makes a sound of distress and taps Doors Open. She looks at him over her shoulder, face worried but also… flushed? Maybe she gets anxiety attacks.

“It’s alright,” Peter tells her, one foot in Spider-Man’s De-escalation Mode. He raises his hands in hopefully a calming gesture and her eyes dart to them, gliding over his bare forearms. Crap, does he seem threatening? He lowers his hands.

“I know it’s alright,” she assures him. “I just… who wants to be stuck at work?”

Michelle gives him a slight smile to accompany her joke and he returns it.

“Got a story to work on?” Peter asks.

His motive is partly to understand the narration he heard (which is still going on, a murmur beneath their much louder voices), but also to focus her on something besides the fact that the elevator is not moving.

“Just filed one actually, so, you know, theoretically free for the weekend.” She makes a phonily excited face that emphasizes how very not-free they are.

The continued jokes are a good sign that she isn’t overly alarmed. He’s still stumped about the story though. As she pulls her cell phone from the large leather bag over her arm, Peter tunes into the background noise. With the elevator silent, that’s just the recording of Michelle’s voice.

‘…later than I thought you would be,’ I inform him. He makes his excuses and where I would normally be annoyed by a failure to be punctual, I find myself charmed by New York’s man in red. I wonder where his adventures have taken him tonight, if his actions have prevented violence, saved lives. If his mere presence has inspired onlookers and comforted those who have lost faith in our traditional systems of stagnant courts and killer cops…

There’s no way Jameson can be aware of the spin she’s putting on this. Spider-Man’s no hero in the eyes of the editor-in-chief, just a menace, a pest, a cockroach climbing up the pantleg of the people who are supposed to enforce justice. That’s not the only thing that’s confusing. Peter’s fairly hung up on the fact that she’s conducting this interview like he’s there. Could just be her process. Playing the whole thing out to get a feel for however long it might be, where small talk might hypothetically cut into her list of prepared questions.

“No service,” Michelle huffs, tucking her phone away again. “You?”

Peter, startled, gets his phone out to check, though he already knows this elevator is a dead zone. He shakes his head. Frustrated, she moves her hand to jab the Help button. The one meant to connect the rider with 911.

“Don’t bother,” he coaches when she pushes it a second time after nothing happens. “I think that thing’s just for show.”

“Oh yeah?”

She’s arch, irritated. Peter stays calm, knowing it’s not really meant for him. People can get testy in stressful situations. Being trapped in an elevator is one of those. Not for him. For him, a stressful situation is a bullet graze or leaping from one office tower to the next and realizing in midair that he’s out of webs. Trapped in an elevator is a relaxing start to his weekend in comparison.

“Jameson never lets anybody inspect it. He’s a control freak, scared of spies. He thinks somebody’s gonna bug the elevator,” he clarifies to Michelle’s raised eyebrows.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Yeah, well, have you met him?”

She exhales a laugh at that.

…invite him to get comfortable, I’m surprised at him choosing a seat at the opposite end of the couch I’ve just sat down on. I’d intended the chair across from me and think that should be obvious to him. Perhaps it is. The mask doesn’t make him the easiest man to read.

“So we’re just fucking stuck because Jameson’s scared of, who? Reporters from other papers? The CIA? Edward Snowden?”

A tingle goes down Peter’s spine when she swears. She’s commanding. Does she know that or is working under Jameson putting her qualities in the shadow of his, wielded for domination and intimidation?

“I haven’t figured that out yet,” he says.

“This button’s never worked?” Michelle checks, leaning her knuckle into it to keep it depressed. “This is a major safety issue. Imagine there was a fire right now.”

“You should call somebody and report him.”

He can’t help being playfully sarcastic and thinks, for a second, that she’s going to bite his head off for it by the way her eyes flash. Then he thinks he might not mind. Then she laughs and he tries to take a normal breath.

“What do we do?” she wants to know.

What do they do? What do Peter and the woman he’s eyed across the office since she arrived at the Bugle two months ago do? Forced together by unhealthy work hours and a broken elevator? He shifts from one foot to the other.

“Hope the custodian decides to watch for you to leave the building and comes looking when you don’t.”

“I hate that plan,” Michelle informs him.

“Go ahead and come up with another one,” he invites earnestly.

She turns so she’s facing him and lets her back slump against the wall of the elevator. She shrugs to ease her bag off her shoulder. The strap tugs a little at her emerald-green blouse before it slides down her arm. She sets it on the ground by her feet. It looks like she’s doing what he suggested. Now it’s just Peter and her quiet voice, which he can tell is coming from the bag. Michelle must have a recorder in there. Probably thinks she shut it off, but the volume’s just really low.

‘…when you’re out there?’ I have to inquire of him. At his easy laugh, I shelter behind my coffee cup, taking a slow sip. ‘Lonely?’ Spider-Man repeats. ‘In a city this size?’ He’s being coy now. I’m certain he knows what I want and it’s the dare implicit in this exchange that prompts me to press him. ‘Not lonely for just anybody,’ I begin…

Crossing his arms, Peter rests against the back of the elevator, trying to be subtle as he tips his head to the side to hear more. He’s getting into this story now, even if it’s not real. For the first time, he’s starting to see how Spider-Man might be a pretty compelling guy. He likes this person she seems to think he is; he’s more interesting coming from her lips. Of course, not as interesting as she is, with her leading questions and the agenda she’s voicing for her recorder if not for the man she’s interviewing.

“Have you worked at the Bugle long?”

His gaze twitches over to Michelle’s face when she speaks.

“Since right outta college. Why?”

“Just wondered if this had happened to you before,” she explains, waving her hand at the elevator’s useless panel of buttons. “And I knew you were here before me.”

“You did?”

He shouldn’t sound so breathlessly hopeful. Obviously, she knew he was here first. Michelle could’ve noticed him one time in the past two months and seen him do anything to indicate that he’d been here longer―escape Jameson’s office just before he could get roared at, jiggle the plug to make the coffee machine in the breakroom work. But Peter does sound that way because of her tone. She says it like an admission and she breaks eye contact.

‘…you don’t want one?’ He declined my offer of coffee once, but I think he may change his mind now that we’ve warmed up to each other a little. Spider-Man twists and I can feel him regarding me from behind those large white eyes. ‘I’d have to take the mask off to drink it,’ he points out. I promise that I’m not trying to blow his cover, just be hospitable. Besides, I counter, he doesn’t need to expose his whole face. The mouth will do.

“So, has it?” she counters, ignoring his question.

“Has what?”

“Has it happened to you? The elevator shutting down?”

“Oh, uh, once or twice, but it was always in the middle of the day and there were a bunch of other people in the elevator with me, so it didn’t go unnoticed long. Jameson hassled me for missing meetings while I was trapped though.”

“It’s not like you could help it,” Michelle says.

“True, but…” Peter shrugs. “I learned to take the stairs.”

“Bet you’re wishing you took them tonight.”

He laughs.

“Not really. I mean, uhhh…” The sound drags out embarrassingly as he can’t manage to pull his gaze away from her surprised face.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she says, saving him. “I think you’re keeping me saner than I would be alone.”

Right. That’s all. Which is enough, really. He’s glad to be of service, especially if that service is helping her not totally lose it.

“No problem.”

‘…because I can do more good if I’m an anonymous symbol,’ Spider-Man tells me. His body language has changed, shifting forward with the urgency of his words. ‘But some people must know,’ I say. ‘Your real identity can’t be a secret from everyone.’ ‘No Spider-Man is an island?’ is his clever rejoinder. I agree with absolute sincerity. ‘Even the strongest person needs to let others get close to them,’ I insist. Where he’s tugged his mask up, his mouth shifts from a wry grin to thoughtful softness. I find my gaze lingering there.

“Any ideas?” Peter asks, feeling hot.

The temperature inside the elevator is moderate, but Michelle’s words, as she draws him deeper into her story, are making him surreptitiously flap his collar to encourage air down his shirt. He’s starting to feel like this is something he’s not supposed to hear. Alright, it’s likely that nobody was supposed to hear it if these are just her rough notes before composing an article. Whatever. What Peter’s realizing is that maybe nobody’s supposed to hear this interview ever. The questions are too personal, too human-interest for the kind of paper they work at, and the way she depicts her responses is… intimate. Full of sensory details. It’s as though he’s in this apartment with her, sipping at her coffee, staring at her down the length of the couch. A Friday night, her voice said, and tonight’s one of those. How would Michelle Jones feel if she knew she was spending an evening with Spider-Man right now?

“I think the custodians would’ve made some noise by now if they knew anybody was in here and if they haven’t realized we’re missing, then I’m not sure anyone else will. I don’t know about you, but I live alone. I probably won’t be missed tonight because my friends will just assume I’m working and turned my phone off. I’ve been considering,” she goes on, “that we’ll either have to climb out the top and hope we’re close to the doors aligning with one of the floors or get these doors open. Either way, we need something to open the doors. Personally, I didn’t pack my crowbar.”

Peter stares at her in awe for a minute. She really did come up with a plan. Several plans. He knows he can help―he doesn’t need a crowbar to part the metal doors―but he can’t just wrench the doors open with his bare hands and act like it’s no big deal. He’ll need an explanation, which can’t be the truth. Revealing himself at the Bugle? To a Bugle reporter? Seems like the worst possible scenario. He doesn’t think Michelle is anything like Jameson in her motivations or basic moral compass (fine, he doesn’t know her, but that’s the sense he gets), and yet, she works for him. It’s her job to give him something fresh, something captivating, and he’s just not sure that her fascination with Spider-Man would be enough to make her want to spare Peter Parker the nightmare of his identity being splashed across Monday’s front page.

“Me neither.”

“This isn’t sustainable,” she mutters. He looks at her with concern. Louder, she adds, “If I get restless enough to climb through the ceiling, promise you won’t look up my skirt when I ask you to give me a boost.”

“Promise.”

Michelle assesses his face and he tries to appear his most transparent and trustworthy. Gradually, her eyes move away from his, but he’s still watching her and sees her stare at his throat, then his chest, and down. Whoa, Peter tells himself. Not a good idea. This woman might be a little hung up on Spider-Man, maybe even has a crush, but you and him are two different people.

Meanwhile, on the recording: …switch it off for him, holding the voice recorder up so he can clearly see that I’ve done it. ‘There,’ I say, ‘no one’s listening now. It’s just you and I.’ ‘So I’m supposed to feel closer to you without it?’ Spider-Man asks. ‘Don’t you?’ is what I want to know.

“Screw it,” Michelle decides a minute later, standing up straight. “I’m getting us out of here. Can you pick me up?”

Peter drops his messenger bag in an instant.

“Yep.”

He watches while she kicks off her black patent high heels (maybe picturing her pressing one of those bad boys into his chest), then they both tip their heads back and examine the ceiling panels.

“Front corner, maybe?” she suggests. “Just so I’m as close as possible to where the doors will hopefully be and I don’t have to wobble around up there in the elevator shaft.”

“Sure,” Peter agrees.

They cross to the appropriate corner and he bends his knees, locking his fingers to offer her a step. She grabs his shoulder for balance and lifts her foot, about to place it in his braced hands, then pauses.

“I’m Michelle, by the way.”

“Peter.”

“I know.”

He’s baffled and flushed as they shake hands, but he can’t dwell on it because her fingers are digging into his shoulder right before she presses her foot into his swiftly repositioned hands and hops up. She gives a small shriek as her body wavers before steadying herself with her palms against the ceiling. Peter drops his gaze. He can tell by her knees that she’s crouching slightly and he’s not glancing any higher than that. Her skirt falls to just below her knees and, as they lean into each other to keep her up, he ends up with her thigh pressed against the side of his face, the black fabric of that skirt under his cheek.

“You got me, right?”

“Right,” he says, careful not to ramble and divulge how little effort bearing her weight requires.

“Ok, I’m going to try to get a grip on this panel and slide it open.”

“Sounds good.”

Peter is looking straight across at the wall. He is not looking higher than her knees. He has no thoughts about the scent of her skirt and no theories on whether the lavender comes from her fabric softener or lotion that he’s also not imagining her rubbing into her skin before she got dressed for work this morning. She sways in his grip and he braces his arms more firmly, unable to do anything about her leg against his face. Michelle grunts and her body heaves as he hears her shift the ceiling panel. Her toes curl around his fingers. He exhales in relief; if she can figure this out without him needing to call on his super-strength, awesome. She goes home with a sense of accomplishment and he goes home maintaining his secret identity.

“Ok,” she calls down. “It’s open. Lift me higher.”

“Higher,” Peter mumbles to himself. Then, to her, “Uh, I might have to, um, hold your legs. But I won’t look at anything, I swear.”

“I’ve trusted you this far.”

Her voice is wry and he chuckles.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Michelle says.

With a bounce of his shoulders, he hoists her up. For a minute, he keeps hold of her foot, but then one of his hands clutches the back of her calf while the other cups her heel. Her weight pulls away from him as she hauls herself up through the ceiling.

“Is there a door?” he asks.

“It’s dark… Can you get my phone? It’s right inside my bag.”

“Ok, hang on. Literally,” Peter adds.

“Ha ha,” Michelle responds dryly, but when he gently releases his grip on her, he finds that she’s able to hold herself in place with her elbows. Her legs dangle and he hurries.

Their conversation and the rush of the action they just took concentrated his senses. Unfortunately, he’s now holding her work bag open and the sounds from her voice recorder are pouring out louder than ever. Still too quiet for her though, at this distance.

‘…didn’t think a suit that tight could hide much, but I’m still pleasantly surprised.’ ‘What, this?’ Spider-Man teases. I abandon my coffee cup and push my reading glasses up into my hair as I set my notes aside to lean in. He might as well have a web stuck to my chest. His awareness of his own physicality is evidently as precise afterhours as it is while he’s on duty because he skims a hand down his abdomen, appearing to almost accidentally hook his thumb in the band of his boxers. ‘You want the real scoop?’ he asks me, prying the elastic away from his skin provocatively. The taste of coffee is still thick and rich in my mouth when I encourage him: ‘Go on, Spidey. Don’t stop there…’

Peter almost drops the bag.

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah! Yes. Mhmm, I’ve got it.”

He returns to Michelle and wraps one arm around her legs. With his other hand, he lifts the phone towards her. Her fingers clasp his, then locate the phone and take it from his grip. He holds still while she turns on her flashlight and has a look around. So, Michelle doesn’t have a little crush on Spider-Man. She’s hot for Spider-Man. Which means she’s hot for Peter, in a way. Except not, he reminds himself, because you’re just her silent co-worker. You’re never going to―

“FUCK!”

“What? No. What? What is it?”

“The next door’s way too high,” she says. “We must be almost lined up with one.” She taps him on the head with her phone and he slips it into his pocket for safekeeping as he prepares to help her down.

“We’ll find another way.” Will you? he asks himself.

“Quick question.”

“Uh huh?”

“How do I do this?”

He’s holding most of her weight now and, pressing a hand to flatten her skirt against her leg, chances a peek up at Michelle. Her head’s still through the ceiling, arms still braced over the open panel. What would definitely work would be her just letting go and him catching her in his arms, but maybe that’s too much faith for her to put in a random guy from work. Although he’s capable of lifting her, catching her falling body is a completely different thing. As with their escape in general, they don’t have a ton of options.

“Just let go slowly,” Peter coaches. “I’ll adjust how I’m holding you and you can sort of slide down my body.” The awkwardness in his tone garbles the last part.

“I can what?”

Dammit. She’s waiting to come down. He clears his throat.

“Uh, slide down my body?”

Her anxious laugh disappears into the elevator shaft.

“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” he hears her hiss to herself. To him, “Yeah, ok. I’m coming down now.”

“I have you.”

Peter’s counting on the giddiness of being returned to the ground from a height to distract her from the too-skillful way he maneuvers his hands on her. Making sure her skirt never gets rucked up, not placing his hands anywhere truly unforgiveable. He holds her hips, not her ass, and turns his head so his face doesn’t wind up in her crotch. He’s really gentleman-ing his butt off when the recording in her bag calls out, ‘Harder, Spider-Man!’

His hands slip. A second ago, his head was level with her stomach and now his face is buried in her chest, the cup of her bra pressing back against his temple. Immediately, Peter tilts back from his shoulders.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry―”

“I’m ok, I’m good,” Michelle protests as they wriggle together to set her down. He forces her phone back into her hand.

“Your skirt was slippery…”

“I know. You did great, Peter, seriously.”

“…and I heard…”

He shuts his mouth fast, but her flustered expression dissipates as her probing gaze finds his eyes.

“What did you hear?”

Peter pushes at his sleeves and refuses to answer. Her powers of deduction don’t rely on him at all. She whirls to her bag, crouching and dropping her phone in to extract the voice recorder instead. Holding it to her ear in investigation, Michelle probably hears the words By the time he has me on all fours, I can tell that Spider-Man’s on board with my remark on the importance of letting someone be close to him at the same volume he does standing three feet away. He’s basically plastered himself to the opposite wall. She looks about as mortified as he figures he’d feel if he made a recording of a very personal fantasy and someone listened to it. Man, should he have just told her at the beginning? There didn’t seem to be a way to handle it well.

Michelle stops the playback and puts the recorder away. The elevator is abruptly quiet without the whisper of her voice. All the while, Peter’s staring at her, seeing what she’ll do. The most probable conclusion for her to come to is that he heard a single sound, a blip, and has no clue what the recording contained. The way she stands, leaving her bag on the floor, seems to confirm this. But she doesn’t look over at him.

With a sigh, he decides to do what Spider-Man would do and put the person in need first. What Michelle Jones needs from him is a way out of this embarrassment, and this elevator. Peter walks to the doors and stamps his hands to the metal. First, a little compression to get a good grip and then… Scrunching his face with the effort, he puts his back into it, forcing the doors apart. Next, he does the same thing to the outer doors, separating them to reveal a darkened hallway. The floor’s about three feet higher than where he’s standing inside the elevator, but that’s nothing for someone to scramble through and head for the stairs.

He steps away to let her go first. She doesn’t move.

“Should we talk about that?” Michelle asks, pointing at the doors, after what has to be a full minute of her studying him.

“I… work out? A lot. I work out a lot,” Peter says with more conviction on every try.

“And about this?” She grabs her recorder and waves it at him.

“You… use that to, uh, keep track of your ideas.”

She steps up to him and, without dropping her gaze from his face, reaches out to touch his wrist. Her fingers move from tracing his skin to ringing his web-shooter. He wears them to work pretty often, but always covers them with the cuffs of his shirt. Which he rolled up. Because he thought he was alone. There’s no reason for her to know what they’re for though, right? They could be medical alert bracelets, or just jewellery. It’s not like they’re branded with ‘Spider-Man’s Web-Shooter, 1 of 2.’

“You wanna talk about these?”

Peter opts out of replying.

“I know what they are,” she says. “What they’re for. I’ve researched you, looked at a lot of video footage and photographs, many of which I think you took, which seems equal parts fucked-up and brilliant. I noticed them right after we got stuck.”

“I have… a severe peanut butter allergy,” he says unconvincingly.

“Bummer,” Michelle shoots back, unsympathetic. Yeah, it was a terrible lie, but he’s gotta at least be able to say he tried to deny her accusations.

“It is, it is a bummer,” Peter agrees, nodding. He licks his dry lips to wet them. “Sometimes, I have such a craving for a PB and J and I can’t―”

She leans in and gives him a quick kiss.

“I’m… confused,” he admits.

“I know who you are,” she begins. “You don’t have to say it out loud, on the off chance somebody really has bugged this piece of shit elevator, but your severe peanut butter allergy bracelets, in combination with how you opened those doors, are pretty good evidence when compared with my research. So, if I take my supposition as fact―”

“Peanut butter…”

“Save it. If you are who I strongly believe you to be, then you were able to hear god knows what on that recording. Which I am an idiot for forgetting to erase or record over. Meant to do it last night… ugh, anyway. The important thing is that you heard it and you didn’t bolt through those doors the second you got them open. Why.”

When Michelle’s on a roll, he learns, her questions come out as demands. He quits trying to sneakily unfold his cuffs in a way-too-last-ditch attempt at concealing the truth.

“Ladies first?” he tries.

“I’m not going to use what I know. I promise you that. You’re a good person and as far as I’m concerned, your secret’s your secret. You do a hell of a lot more for this city than Jameson does with the trash he prints, my own contributions obviously excluded. Now I’m the only one held over a barrel here, Peter. You heard what you heard. Tell me why you stayed.”

“You needed me.”

“After you got the doors open.”

Peter thinks. Not just about whether or not to speak, but if he’s ready to say what he’s about to say.

“I needed you. It’s like what you said in the story―I mean, the recording. I don’t let many people get close to me.”

“Why would you let me be one of those people? It took being stuck together before we even had our first conversation.”

“A good feeling, I guess,” he explains. “Plus, you’re kinda my dream girl and I just found out that, at least on the physical side of things, you’re really into me. Like, really into me.”

“You can shut up about that now,” Michelle says.

“Why? You didn’t. You had so much to say.”

“Hmm, maybe I like Spi- I mean, that guy better when I’m speaking for him. Fortunately for you,” she says smugly, “I’ve thought Peter Parker the photographer was cute since the day I started working here.”

“That is news to me.”

Michelle wraps her arms around his neck, smirking as she leans her body against his.

“I was getting around to telling you. Are you surprised?”

“It’s a real scoop,” Peter acknowledges as his hands feel out the lithe shape of her back through her blouse.

“Oh my god, you heard that part? That part? How could―”

He more or less molds his mouth to hers. She more or less gives him a tour of her Brooklyn apartment before they spend the night in bed together and rise to a hot cup of coffee.

more clichéd tropes and prompts

[florenceandthemachine]

so i binged all of 911 over the span of like four days and now i can’t stop thinking about paramedic/firefighter jackson (whichever you prefer, both are Very Good) and police sergeant stiles help me

leave it to @jacksonstilinskis to come up with the truly transcendent asks. Because as much as you KNOW I love a paramedic (or any medical field) Jackson, I actually bought a 2020 Firefighters Holding Kittens calendar (that’s a link, I really hope it worked). So you know that’s all I’m picturing. 

Whats even funnier, though, is the fact that Stiles (who would look damn good in his LAPD uniform) absolutely fucking HATE Jackson in the beginning, in a way that would go way past the typical “police vs fire” rivalry. 

It would have started with an attempt at a friendly greeting, a smooth dismissal, something about a fire bug, Jackson’s offhand comments about cops and doughnuts, but that would all have been fine. It would have taken one offhand comment about Stiles’ father (”back in Beacon County? how has he not been shot yet?”) and that would have been it—Stiles would have had an enemy for life. 

Their first post-hatred, on the job interaction would be at the scene of a pretty violent assault—Stiles would have the victim curled up on the front steps of her building, a shock blanket over her shoulders, sitting beside her as Scott finishes taping the area off, while Kira and her team took pictures of everything they could inside—the dents in the walls, the broken window, overturned furniture, everything.

Stiles would have called for some paramedic assistance—the girl had cuts over her palms and a pretty deep laceration on her shoulder, but it was nothing compared to the corpse in the living room. He would be doing his best to try and comfort her, but there was no easy way to say “hey, it’s okay, I’m a great shot, so your abusive husband didn’t suffer when I blew his brains out!”.

Fire would have been on scene before any ambulance or paramedics, which made sense—they were all trained in first aid anyway—and Stiles would have felt his heart fucking sink when Whittemore stepped out of the truck, because the last thing he needed was this asshole with a jaw made of marble and a heart made of coal fucking with this poor girl. 

But then Whittemore is crouched down, and he’s speaking slowly to her, softly, and suddenly she’s letting him stitch up her arm, and Stiles is almost dizzy with how quick things have snapped around. 

So Whittemore could be nice to civilians. That was.... decent of him.

Their next on the job interaction isn’t on the job at all, which is almost funny. Stiles walks into the bank in his civvies and gets in line behind a very, very nice ass. 

It’s wiggling, for fucks sake, as the owner moves his hips ever so slightly to whatever music is playing through a white pair of earbuds. Stiles allows himself all of three minutes to stare before he realizes that that ass is attached to a nearly perfect V of a gorgeous torso... clad in an LAFD tee shirt.

All beneath a blond, cropped haircut, that—unfortunately—Stiles would recognize anywhere.

Stiles isn’t sure what he hates more—the fact that he’s been blatantly ogling a fireman, or the fact that he was ogling Whittemore, for fucks sake—but, thankfully (unfortunately?) his attention doesn’t linger for long. 

At the front of the line, there’s a man standing in a dark coat and jeans, rolling on the balls of his feet—and if the anxious motions weren’t enough to give him away, the panicked smile on the tellers face was enough to set him on high alert.

Sure enough, he only had a half minute to wait before there was a flash of metal, and he pushed back from his heels as he let out a shout. The distraction worked, thankfully—the would-be robber spun on his heel, the teller dove beneath the counter, and Stiles had his arms around Whittemore’s shoulders, throwing him to the floor as a bullet rang out above them. 

His heel may have dug into the firemans leg as he sprung forward, but he’d apologize for that later—his shoulder connected with the mans abdomen and they were both down on the ground in a tussle of arms and legs, Stiles gripping at his wrist, forcing him to unload the gun into the marble flooring of the bank. 

It felt like the struggle lasted an hour, but in less than a second Stiles had the man pinned, gun knocked far from his hand, and Whittemore—fucking finally—had his earbuds out, speaking in rapid fire tones to what Stiles assumed was the local Los Angeles dispatchers.

The good news, no one was hurt. That was the only good news, he decided, as he started to take stock of things when the on-duty officers took over the scene.

The bad news, it was Stiles day off, and now he had about a ton of paperwork to fill out. He fucking hated paperwork. 

Plus his arm hurt.

Plus, he was still mad at himself for spending a chunk of his morning staring at Whittemore’s ass. 

So, needless to say, when he felt eyes drilling into his head, he didn’t have the most pleased expression on his face as he turned.

Whittemore was smirking at him from across the room, eyes dragging over Stiles now-rumpled form, and somehow that made Stiles even more grumpy.

Somehow, knowing that the fire fighting dickwad was checking him out after taking down an armed robber did little to boost his mood.

—

Their third encounter was somehow the most dangerous.

Which was ironic, considering their last encounter had involved a fully loaded gun fired at them.

Stiles, being the great person that he was, had offered to switch duties with Scott for a week so Scott could spend time with Allison (in all reality, he did anything that he could in order to get Scott to shut the fuck up about his perfect love life).

No good deed went unpunished, though, because Stiles was now stuck on evidence duty.

No good deed definitely went unpunished, because less than twenty minutes after he logged “attache case, locked, recovered from Union Station” and he had slid it on the shelf next to “axe, bloody” and “Argent, bank records” when the case started to smoke.

The evidence hall was cramped—it was this tiny, narrow space, full of clothing, papers, baggage, weapons, and it didn’t take long for a huge portion of it to go up in flame. Stiles, bless his heart, was a fucking idiot, because immediately threw himself over the smoking suitcase to try and save some of the evidence in the shelving behind it. The Argent dossier had taken he and his team months to fully compile, and while most of the data was backed up on several servers brought the district, these bank records were the latchkey to the entire case—and he would be damned if a suddenly incendiary briefcase took that work away from them.

Stiles was almost thankful when he heard the fire alarm go off... and was less thankful when he beat the flame off of a folder of paper, kicked open the door to the bullpen, and—

—immediately came face to flame with a wall of fire. 

It was probably foolish to assume that his own little firebox was the only incendiary device left in the building—anyone desperate enough to burn some evidence certainly wouldn’t leave it all to one briefcase—and he would have been really upset with himself if he wasn’t launched straight into panic. 

Shoving the file into his shirt, he threw himself to the floor, ducking low beneath the smoke that was quickly filling the floor. He could go for one of the extinguishers along the far wall of the building, but new fires were popping up everywhere he looked—through the vents in the floor, from a desk in the pen, and Stiles could already feel his lungs heavy with smoke as he made his way to a stairwell. 

The handle was hot, but the stairs were his only option—and he tried to keep himself as low as he could as the smoke pooled into the stairwell, his chest tightening as he suppressed a coughing fit.

As he descended the first flight, he only had a moment to be thankful that he had switched shifts with Scott—with his asthma, Scott would have been unconscious five minutes ago... and wasn’t that a terrifying thought.

Not that Stiles was faring much better. He was less than halfway down to the main floor when his head started to swim, smoke clinging to his clothing and soot singed to his flesh. He had tears streaming down his face as he finally burst through the main floor door, and was thankful that he was already crawling on the ground, because he couldn't have stood if he tried.

Even crawling was hard.

His eyes were completely blurred, burning, and he still had two rooms and the main hall to go through before he was home free, and he didn’t even know if he could make it to the doorframe, and suddenly, his body was swung into the air, a pair of arms tight beneath his knees, moving incredibly fast—seriously, what the fuck—out of the building. 

He clung to what felt like a brick wall, somehow knowing exactly who was beneath the helmet, coat, respirator, mask, and other loads of gear. He was honestly thankful that Whittemore was wearing so many layers, because as soon as they hit the cool air, Stiles took a huge, greedy breath in, and immediately retched. His lips were stained with soot and bile as he tried to prop himself up, the world swimming in and out of focus as he was unceremoniously dropped down onto a gurney, an oxygen mask fitted over his face. 

By the time the world was clear again, Stiles had some soot cleaned off of his arm where an IV was stuck into his arm, he was gulping down oxygen like it was going out of style, and if he hadn’t just come dangerously close to being a human marshmallow he would have laughed when he finally found Jackson in the crowd.

He was standing at attention, looking as perfect as ever, but had an expression that was very alike to a kicked puppy—standing stock straight as his fire chief (a truly terrifying man named Hale) shouted at him. Stiles couldn’t be too upset, really—Jackson had just saved his life, after all (and huh, when had Whittemore become Jackson?), but his lungs were still charred and his chest was too heavy to laugh.

His chest was really, heavy, actually.

And just like that, the files stuffed into his shirts burst forth into his mind. 

The poor medic (a beautiful man with beautiful dimples that Stiles would have been flirting with, helplessly, if he could catch his breath) probably thought he was having a seizure as he started smacking him in the arm, but thankfully the desperation in his eyes must have translated universally, because Danny (even his name was cute) was waving Jackson, Hale, and Stiles’ captain over.

Seriously, Lydia managed to look beautiful, even in her pajamas, her captain’s badge draped on a chain around her neck. She was the first to yell at Stiles for trying to take his mask off—with Jackson right behind her—but thankfully, they all shut up once Stiles slapped the folder from his shirt into her hands, the red “ARGENT” across the charred manilla getting everyone’s attention.

The last thing that Stiles sees is Lydia’s shocked expression, Hale’s muted fury, and... Jacksons cool, grey eyes.

Except they’re electric blue.

Blue?

He passes out.

—

When Stiles regains consciousness in the hospital, Jackson is there. Jackson asks why Stiles saved that file in particular, and Stiles fires back, asking what the fuck was going on with Jackson’s eyes, and they’re both silent for the rest of the night as Stiles swims back in and out of sleep.

Stiles is immediately pulled off the case, and put onto desk work, stuck at the 43rd Precinct while their building is getting cleared by the fire marshal.

The plus side—the only plus side—is that Jackson hovers. If he didn’t know any better, he might have suspected foul play—Stiles was the only officer reassigned to the 43rd, which happened to be painfully close to Jackson’s fire house. 

Weirdly enough, he wasn’t complaining. 

Jackson keeps dancing around him, giving him exaggerated looks, like he thinks Stiles is in on some big secret, and Stiles normally would have been absolutely livid about it—but somehow, Jackson makes it adorable.

Subtlety may not usually be Stiles’ strong point, but he can make it work when he needs to, and his interactions with Jackson proved that. Hale was a good topic, he learns—Jackson lights up when Stiles asks how his team is doing, and brings in lunch for them both the next day. Stiles takes note.

Work is a good topic. Stiles mentions that they caught a mole—a janitor named Daehler, who was caught on camera planting a few of the firebombs in their building, and had financial ties to Argent out the asshole. They’re finally, finally moving to prosecute—and Jackson looks like he’s so happy he could cry, even though Jackson really has no... reason to be. 

At least, not that Stiles knows.

He’s still watching, processing paperwork, and he’s proud of his detective work, okay? So he’s almost embarrassed when he’s totally blindsided by Jackson one Tuesday afternoon.

“Stiles, what are you doing on Saturday the 28th?”

“Hmm? Nothing, Lyds gave me weekends off—”

“You know she hates it when you call her Lyds.”

“—to make up for taking me off the case. Why?”

“I want to invite you to the Firemen's Ball.”

“You—what?”

Holy fuck, was Jackson actually asking him out?

“The Fireman's Ball.” Jackson says, slower, rolling his eyes like he was explaining it to a child. “Chief Hale wants you there, as a guest.”

Stiles feels his heart slow a little, his face flushing red, the embarrassment of his immediate assumption just an afterthought in the next few seconds. “Oh, uh, sure, I can do that. You know inter departmental unity and all. Sounds fun!” he said, forcing a smile, and Jackson just grinned back at him lazily. Stiles distracted himself by taking a far too big bite of the sandwiches Jackson had brought up for lunch.

Fucker.

“Good.” Jackson said, still wearing the same shit eating grin. He stood and swung his coat over his shoulder—free of soot, Stiles was pleased to note (and hated how happy he was)—and started walking backwards out of the precinct. “And for the record, if Chief didn’t ask me to ask you, I would have asked you myself. Just so you know.” he said, winking as he turned and pushed through the door, leaving Stiles to choke on his sandwich.

He actually winked.

Fucker.

—

Decked out in his dress blues, pins and insignia tacked proudly to his chest, Stiles was actually a little proud of himself for feeling so proud, even as he parked his cruiser in-between several fire and rescue SUV’s.

He looked damn fine in his dress uniform, if he did say so himself, and Lydia had helped him style his hair and even talked him into a neutral lip and a darker brow (she was more excited than he was, and she wasn’t even going). Point is, he looked damned good, and felt a small thrill of excitement when Jackson met him at the entrance to the hall. 

“Hang on, we... we can’t go in yet, I have to wait for.... Stilinski, you look amazing.” Jackson almost purred, and Stiles felt pride pool in his belly—and no small amount of arousal—as he did a quick turn, letting Jackson take in every angle. The low thrill only grew when Jackson offered him his arm, checking his watch as Stiles slipped his arm into Jackson’s own, letting Jackson push the door open for them... and apparently, right in the middle of a speech, because—

“...thanks to his brave work, putting the people before his own wellbeing, we now have a family of serial arsonists behind bars. Give it up for our guest of honor, Detective Mieczysław Stilinski!”

And then people were clapping, and Stiles was honestly too shocked to move—thankfully, Jackson was beaming bright enough for the both of them steering Stiles effortlessly across the floor. 

“Breathe, dipshit.”

Stiles sucked in a breath as Jackson guided them to their seats, which was VERY near the front of the hall, a nervous smile finally making its way onto his face as Jackson pulled out a chair for him. 

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you would come—” which, fair point, “—and you don't have to give a speech or anything—” another very fair point, “—and the Chief and the Argents have had bad blood since one of them burned Derek’s family alive in his childhood home, so he wanted to express his gratitude.”

Which... holy fuck. Stiles did his best to keep his expression under control as his eyes snapped to Derek, but he must have failed, because Derek’s press-smile slipped into one of actual gratitude, tilting his head as he rose a drink in Stiles’ direction.

The night went by in a blur. Jackson introduced him to the rest of his company, Stiles got a very fancy piece of glass with his name on it (spelled correctly, even!), the dinner was superb. He told some of his better work stories, including the one where he and Jackson had almost been involved in a bank robbery—and pretended he didn’t love the feeling of Jackson squeezing his arm at the table while he laughed.

Eventually, the night died down, until it was just Jackson’s company left, crowded around the last set table in the hallway, laughing and cheering as they swapped stories and compared scars (a busty firefighter named Erica was, by far, the champion there, with a wickedly impressive burn on full display in a gorgeous, backless dress). 

At some point in the evening, Derek had joined them at the table, laughing along with everyone else as he sat. When he stood, though, the rest of them immediately quieted down—it was like a switch had been flipped—and Stiles felt that laser like focus aimed to him when Derek caught his eyes.

“Stiles...” and god, what a relief that it had taken next to no time to talk them all out of calling him Mieczysław, fucking seriously. “... I know that this was all... a little unexpected for you, but I want to thank you personally, for how well you are doing with all of this.” he said, gesturing to the table at large, and Jackson was fucking preening next to him, even as Stiles was a bit clueless. After all, it was just a dinner, right?

He waved Derek’s thanks aside, smiling himself, feeling a little more comfortable as he shrugged it off. “I don’t need thanks, you know that. Any good person would have acted the same. The only hardship for me has been hanging out with Jackson.” he said offhandedly, and Derek laughed again, even as Jackson pouted.

“You’re modest, and that’s okay. But still—it only seems right that given the circumstances, we show our gratitude. Stiles...” and suddenly Derek’s gaze was almost hypnotic, burning into him. “...we wanted to give you the opportunity to join us. It’s rare we find someone so worthy so quickly, and it would be an absolute honor to have you.” he said, and something.... felt off.

He loved being a cop. He always loved being a cop—and while he couldn’t certainly understand the appeal of being a firefighter, he would never leave his precinct. Not willingly, at least. He stumbled over his words when he tried to explain this to Derek—well, more to Jackson, really, but the look of confused humor on Jackson’s face was not the expected result. 

“Stilinski...” he started, in the same tone he used whenever he was describing an incredibly simple task to a brick-brained Stiles over lunch, “...we’re not asking you to become a firefighter. We’re asking you if you want to be able to join... us.” he said, and Stiles would have been frustrated if he didn’t give him a slow blink, his eyes suddenly an electric blue once again.

Uh.

“Jackson...”

Stiles turned away, trying to confirm what he was seeing—and Erica stared back at him with golden eyes. And she wasn’t the only one. There were a few more golds, a few more blue, and Derek, with burning, intense red eyes. 

“What the fuck is going on?”

—

Werewolves.

Derek had immediately pulled him aside, out of the main hall, and Jackson was close behind. He had explained everything—or, “as much as he could”, when they were safely away from any hall staff, and Stiles felt his head swimming with new information. 

Fucking werewolves.

And, apparently, hunters. And kanimas. And magic, and rituals, and more than Stiles could even begin to process.

And then Derek said he would give them some time to talk, and just... left them.

Jackson, for his credit, looked like a kicked puppy. He had explained that he thought Stiles knew from the very beginning, and just hadn’t bothered to confirm it—they were usually in public, around sensitive ears and prying eyes, and Jackson thought he had confirmed it all as well as he could nonverbally.

He was still a wreck, though, and Stiles decided to finally just head that off at the pass. 

“Jackson, if you apologize again, I’m going to punch you in the face.” he said, and Jackson’s—still blue—eyes widened in surprise. “So you’re a werewolf. I can... work with that. All in all, this is not the worst first date I’ve been on.” he said as he kept pacing, and Jackson’s jaw dropped.

Stiles had been trying to go for levity, but as Jackson stared at him, he felt his own nerves start to bubble up. “Well, if you don't want, I mean—”

“Stiles, this is our third date.”

“What?”

“First date was when you moved me out of the way of a fucking bullet, which I now realize you didn’t know I would heal from immediately. Second date... well, pick any of the lunches I brought for you, even though I now realize you didn’t know I was kind of... providing for you. This is the third date. At least. Maybe fourth.”

It was Stiles turn to gape, and he did his best to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. He took a steadying breath and slouched down next to where Jackson was sitting on the floor.

“Look, we still have a lot to talk about. Like, for one, I’m going to be keeping my humanity” Stile started, and that was the understatement of the century. “...but, if this is our third date, does that mean you're finally going to kiss me goodnight?” he asks, and Jackson laughs, letting his hand tangle with Stiles as they sit on the floor. 

When they finally rejoin the rest of the team, Derek looks cautious around him, but Stiles doesn’t care. They’re probably going to have to have their own long talk later, but for the moment, Jackson is smiling at him, and that’s all that he cares about. 

(When they walk back to Stiles’ cruiser, Jackson kisses him goodnight.

With tongue. And fangs.

Everything really was going to be alright.)

[marvelsdc22]

The Professor And I (pt. 11)

Intro: Hello lovelies!! Happy Halloween!!!!!! I hope you guys are having a good one!! Enjoy this Halloween part, it kinda got away from me word count wise! :)

Note: Y/N is gender neutral. Lena is a professor. Y/N is a student.

Word Count: 1800

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of a loud and obnoxious alarm “Kara, shut it off” you groaned, burying your face into the pillow and trying to drown out the sounds, feeling someone lean over you before the alarm shut off and you heard them chuckle “Sorry, but I have a class to teach” Lena teased, watching you jump and turn to look at her, confusion evident on your face until you remembered that you had stayed the night “Can’t we just have five more minutes?” You whined, laying back down and tugging on her arm as she sat up on the bed “I have a class to teach, Y/N” Lena chuckled, carefully pulling her arm out of your grasp and rolling her eyes at your pout “Besides, you have to go get ready for class as well” she pointed out, causing you to groan and bury your face into the pillow once more, you hearing her footsteps as she headed into the bathroom before you allowed yourself to drift off again, waking up once more when you felt a pillow hit your head “Get up, lazy” Lena said, watching you roll over and stretch before she grabbed your arms and forced you up “Get dressed and I’ll make some breakfast” she said, kissing your nose before she headed out of the room.

Once you got changed and gargled some mouthwash, you headed into the kitchen just as Lena set some plates full of scrambled eggs and toast “What would you like to drink?” Lena asked, pouring herself some coffee “Coffee as well, please” you said, giving her a small smile as you sat down and thanking her for both the food and the coffee when she set a mug down in front of you “You’re going to the Halloween party, right?” You asked after a few moments of silence, taking a bite of your eggs and looking at her “I am, I’m being dragged by some of the other professors” she chuckled, wiping her mouth with a napkin “What are you dressing up as?” You asked, smiling at her and raising a brow when she smirked “That’s a secret” she chuckled, winking at you before she focused on her food once more since she knew you were pouting.

A few days later, you were in your dorm with Kara as she rushed around to get ready for the Halloween party that started in two hours “Kara” you said, watching her run around to get her costume together “Kara” you repeated when she ignored you, rolling your eyes and standing up, going over to her and grabbing her shoulders “Kara!” You said, looking at her and watching as she focused on you “Calm down, the party is going to be great” you assured, looking at her and giving her a small smile “But, what if-“ Kara started, getting cut off when you shook her a bit “No buts, it’ll be great” you said sternly, watching as she slouched a bit and took a deep breath to center herself “You’re right” Kara said, giving you a small smile and pulling away “But, you need to get ready!” She said, forcing you over to the bathroom where your costume was hanging “Okay okay!” You laughed, going into the bathroom and shutting it behind you.

Once you were both dressed up and ready to go, you walked to the Student Union, the two of you wrapped up in coats since it had decided to start snowing earlier that day “Of course it had to snow” you complained, speeding up slightly to try to get there faster “Come on, snow is amazing” Kara chuckled, following you up to the building “Nope, I hate it” you said, heading inside and shaking the snow off of you before taking your coat off and hanging it up, fixing the sleeves of your ripped shirt since you decided to just go as a zombie since it was easy to make your own costume of it “Whatever you say” Kara chuckled, hanging her coat up as well and her dressed up as some princess you don’t remember the name of and watching as she headed into the large space that had lights flashing and music already booming “You did really good, Kara… It looks amazing” you said as you followed her into the room, looking around and seeing the party was already in full swing “Thanks! I honestly couldn’t of done it without you and Alex, so thank you” Kara said, smiling at you and giving you a hug, pulling away when she heard her name called “Go on, I’m gonna walk around” you said when she looked at you, giving her a smile and watching her head off before you made your way through the crowd, freezing when you saw Lena with the other professors, her in a tight black dress and her long, black hair down, a long cape around her neck, her lips a deep shade of red with small white fangs just barely poking out, feeling your face flush when she caught you staring and winked at you, you about to make your way over there until you were grabbed and dragged out of the crowd.

“Nia” you said when you finally saw who was dragging you “Nia, where are we going?” You asked, giving a small laugh and stopping when she finally stopped and looked at you, finally getting a full look at her costume which was what looked like a bumblebee "Cute costume" you said, giving her a smile and watching her relax slightly and give you a smile “Sorry, I wanted to talk to you” Nia said, looking at you and wringing her hands “What’s wrong? You can talk to me” you said, placing a hand on her arm and watching as she seemed conflicted on what she wanted to say “Nia-“ you said, getting cut off when she surged forward and kissed you, you tensing and pushing her away, trying to not be too harsh as you did so “Nia… I” you said, running a hand through your hair and looking over her shoulder to see Lena, her expression unreadable until she turned on her heel and stormed off “Dammit” you said, pushing past Nia and making your way through the crowd, running outside without worrying about grabbing your coat “Lena!” You shouted, forcing yourself to run after her “Lena! It’s not what it looks like!” You shouted, managing to catch up to her and grab her wrist “Lena-“ you said until she cut you off with a slap to the face “I don’t want to hear it, Y/N” Lena said, looking at you with tears in her eyes and trying desperately to not burst into tears “Lena, it wasn’t what it looked like… Nia kissed me! I didn’t kiss her back” You said, grabbing her arms gently and not caring if it got you slapped again, watching as she opened her mouth to say something until you cut her off “I love you, Lena” you said, looking at her and watching her freeze, you not expecting a reply back since you knew she may not feel the same “I-“ she said, looking like she was trying to form words until you guys heard a scream come from the Student Union, causing the two of you to run back towards the building “FIRE!” You heard someone shout, you pulling Lena out of the way of the door when people started running out of the building “Call 911” you said, moving around her and running inside to try to go and help.

After you got inside the building, you looked around to try to find your friends, knowing they could’ve been outside, but you needed to make sure “Kara! Alex!” you shouted, looking around and moving out of the way of people running for the exit “Kara!” You shouted once more, looking around and stopping when you heard a groan “Alex” you said, running over to her and seeing she was trapped under a piece of the wall that had fallen over “Alex, I’m here” you said, grabbing the wall and trying to lift it “Dammit” you said, looking around for something to help “Y/N, get out of here” Alex coughed, looking up at you and watching as you shook your head “No” you said, glaring at her when she tried to argue with you “I’m NOT leaving you” you said sternly, trying once more to lift the wall off of her and inwardly cheering when it started to move “I got you” Nia said, looking at you when you finally noticed her on the other side helping you lift the wall and the two of you managing to get it up “Get her out of here” you said once you got Alex out, helping Alex stan before handing her over to Nia before you went to search for others.

As you were looking through the last area that anyone could be, you saw a shadow rush by and you raised an eyebrow, coughing into you arm and forcing yourself to crouch, pulling your plaid shirt off and folding it up before covering your mouth and nose with it “I gotta get out of here” you whispered to yourself, slowly making your way towards an exit and hearing the sirens, letting out a scream of shock when you were suddenly knocked to the floor “I warned you” the person hissed, you not able to see their face due to the mask and the black hoodie “You kill me, you get arrested” you coughed, grabbing his wrists when he grabbed onto your neck “You act like I’m gonna get caught” the person said, tightening their grip on your neck and you struggling until you lifted your leg just right and nailed them between the legs, forcing them to let you go and giving you enough time to slip from their grip and make your way out as quickly as possible “Y/N” Lena said when she saw you exit, you only wearing a tank top with your ripped outfit and her rushing over to you, cupping your face gently and watching as you struggled to breathe for a moment before you started coughing, her pulling you close to her before she slipped her coat off and draped it over your shoulders as she led you to the ambulance, looking over her shoulder at the Student Union and catching a glimpse of what looked like someone running out of the side entrance, her about to go after them until she heard you cough again, so she shook her head and focused on getting you checked out, you were more important to her than chasing after someone that may not even be real.

Permanent Taglist: @rianncreates​​​ / @5aftermidnight​​​

Supergirl Taglist: @x-danvers-x​​​ / @aznblossom​​​

Lena Taglist: @stewie-castle / @life2-live​​​ / @supergirl-imaginess​​​

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End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed!! If you want to be added to a Taglist, shoot me a DM or an Ask!! Also! If you weren’t tagged like you were supposed to be, please refer to this to help see if it can be fixed!! Have a Happy Halloween, bbys!!! :)

Requests Open 

[sadmmann]

20 years ago

20 years ago, on April 20, during the massacre at Columbine High School, we lost not only 13 dear people, but 24 people were terribly injured after which they could never return to their previous lives. 

I propose to recall their names

Richard Castaldo (17 in 1999) -  He was shot 8 times in his left arm, right arm, chest, back, and abdomen. Since the shooting he has to use a wheelchair. After the shooting he got his driver's license and a car designed to be used by people in wheelchairs.

Lance Kirklin (16 in 1999) - Lance suffered from a total of five gunshot wounds. His jaw and face were rebuilt with bone and tissue from his leg as well as titanium alloy to replace lost bone in his thigh and jaw. The process took 9 operations. He was released from the hospital on May 15, 1999.

Anne-Marie Hochhalter (17 in 1999) -  She tried to run to the safety of the cafeteria and was shot by once in the back and once in the chest. Paralyzed by a bullet that severed her spinal cord and went through her diaphragm (it was later found lodged in her liver), she collapsed, unable to move. She told investigators later that while she was playing dead she could hear one of the gunmen shouting orders to the other but couldn't understand what they were saying. If rescue workers had been two minutes slower in reaching her, she would have died. Doctors later called her the "miracle girl". After shooting, she has to use a wheelchair. Severe pain, disability and suicide of the mother did not break Anna, and she continues to fight to this day.

Sean Graves (15 in 1999) -  His back/spine injury was deemed an 'incomplete spinal injury' by doctors, meaning that he was paralyzed below the injury level but retained some feeling and movement. He was later moved to Craig Hospital for spinal cord rehabilitation. On June 20th, 1999 he took his first steps. He was released from Craig July 7th, 1999.

Mark Taylor (17 in 1999) - He was hit several more times - twice in the chest and five times in the back - while laying there. As he watched, went over to where [Rachel] lay bleeding and shot her again as she tried to get up. Other students trampled Mark in their attempt to flee from the gunmen, thinking him dead. Eventually an officer showed up and dragged Mark to safety behind the nearby shed.Four of the eight bullets were left in him: Two near his aorta and two in his spine. He was released April 30, 1999.He was later re-admitted to Littleton Adventist for treatment of a staph infection in the wounds in his lungs. Was in and out of the hospital three times.

Michael Johnson (15 in 1999) - Michael was outside the cafeteria with four friends: Denny Rowe, Mark Taylor, John Cook, and Adam Thomas. They were sitting on the grass near the east stairs when the shooting began.At first Michael didn't know what was going on but he quickly realized bullets were hitting the ground near him and and his friends. He felt a sensation like someone had poured warm water on his left leg and he and his friends got up to run toward a shed that was about 120 yards away. As they ran he heard Mark cry out: "Oh my God! I've been shot!" as he fell to the ground. Mike continued to run. He felt another "warm feeling" on the back of his jaw and realized he'd been shot too. He managed to make it as far as the shed. Denny, John, and Adam kept running and jumped the nearby fence. Michael lay down and propped himself against the shed where noticed the left leg of his blue jeans was covered in blood from mid-thigh down to his ankle.  Michael was in intensive care for 8 days during which time doctors had to wire his jaw shut and repair a ruptured blood vessel in his leg. He was released April 28, 1999.

Brian Anderson (17 in 1999) walked past the glass doors with Patti Nilsson (35 in 1999) when gunmen shot at them. The shattered door knocked Brian and Patty. In 2008 a friend of Brian's [Dewayne Johnson] said that 26 year old Brian Anderson has moved on with his life. He now owns his own trucking company in the Littleton, Colorado area. Brian still tries to make sense of that fateful day at Columbine High School. To this day he has not stepped one foot into any library nor does he like the sound of helicopters or fire alarms. Brian lost his good friend and classmate Corey DePooter in the shooting and said there are times when he thinks of him and all the fun times they had in school. Recently Brian said he would like to go back to Columbine and see the new library and there he hopes to find more closure. Brian still lives in the Jefferson County area. He would like to thank all those who pitched in with a helping hand during the whole ordeal at Columbine. Brian also stated that "there is one person that means a lot" to him and will always have a place in his heart because in his eyes she is a HERO and that is teacher Patti Nielson.

Stephanie Munson (17 in 1999) -  Stephanie and her friend Melissa Walker were heading out of tech lab class to go talk with one of the A.C.E. teachers when she heard popping noises. She had never heard gunfire before so didn't recognize the sound. About that time a male teacher ran up behind them, yelling at them to get out of the building. She and Melissa ran west toward the main entrance. As they were exiting through the first set of double doors Stephanie felt as though her left foot exploded: There was a burning sensation and a pop, then her foot went numb.Once outside the school, Stephanie paused by the bike rack to look at her foot and saw that it was bleeding. Melissa, hysterical, insisted that she keep running. It wasn't until Stephanie got across the street to Leawood Park that she was able to stop and take off her shoe and sock. That's when she discovered that she'd been shot. There were several people already in the park at the time and more were pouring out of the school by the minute. Seeing her wounded ankle, which was a through-and-through injury from a 9mm bullet, someone with a cellphone called 911 .An ambulance arrived and took her to the hospital where she was treated and released April 20, 1999.

Nicholas Foss (18 in 1999) -  Nick was treated for slight injuries sustained in the 15 foot fall through the ceiling and the bullet that grazed his head. Released April 20, 1999. He told investigators later that he felt as though angels were watching over him that day because one of the killers pointed a gun at his head but it didn't go off when the shooter pulled the trigger.

Joyce Jankowski (45 in 1999) - When the shooting began Joyce, a teacher at Columbine, was in the faculty lounge about to have lunch. She heard a commotion outside and when she looked out the window she saw two bodies. Judy Grecko, one of the other two teachers in the room, tried to call 911 but the phone was dead. Several shots soon followed and Joyce and another teacher, Amy Burnett, ran into the small one-person bathroom that was attached to the teachers' lounge. She was treated for injuries sustained in the fall through the ceiling when she tried to escape the school and was released April 20, 1999.

Adam Kyler (16 in 1999) -  He was treated for abdominal pain and released April 20, 1999.

Evan Todd (16 in 1999) - was a sophomore at the time of the Massacre. He was the first to get injured in the library (however, he only suffered from minor injuries), as he was hit from flying splinters that came from the bullet striking the table he was hiding under.

Makai Hall (19 in 1999) - was sitting with his friends in the library when the shooting began. He hid under a table with Daniel Steepleton and Patrick Ireland when the shooters entered the library. When they demanded that everyone with white hats stand up, Dan - who was wearing a white hat - started to get up. Makai held him back, telling him: "Don't move." Shortly after killer looked under the table where Makai and his friends were hiding. Smiling, opened fire. Makai was hit in the knee by the shotgun blast. Pat moved to help him and was shot in the head. Pat was knocked unconscious; Makai and Dan played dead. Then killer threw a home-made C02 bomb that bounced under their table and landed on Dan's thigh. Dan was too afraid to move so Makai reached over, grabbed it, and threw it back out from underneath the table where it exploded mid-air.

Patrick Ireland (17 in 1999) - After Patti Nielson entered the library with Evan Todd, he hid under a table together with his friends Makai and Dan even though at first he thought it was just a joke; the other two hid under a different table.When the gunmen entered the library and shouted "Everybody with white hats get up" he closed his eyes and played dead.After some time and a lot of shooting he heard Makai groan in pain.He looked over and saw that both of his friends had been shot.Patrick decided to crawl over between them to provide first aid but passed out because he had been shot in the head twice but hadn't noticed this before.He passed in and out of consciousness for two hours but was woken by the fire alarm eventually.Patrick still hadn't noticed that he was shot and decided that he had to get out of there immediately but he couldn't stand up since he had been shot in his leg.He crawled towards a window and managed to pull himself up.He wanted to jump out in case nobody was there to help him but luckily members of the SWAT team saw him and parked their car right under the windowto pull Patrick out.

Daniel Steepleton (17 in 1999) - He saw killer look directly at him, smile, and then lift his sawed-off shotgun. He fired at Daniel, who was hit in the left knee. Daniel felt it as a sensation of warmth. He also saw that Makai had been hit in the right leg and it looked "torn up". Patrick reached over to help Makai;Daniel heard another shot and saw Patrick go down. He had been shot in the head. Both gunmen were firing their weapons at the time so Daniel wasn't sure who had shot Pat. Daniel fell to the floor where he lay with his head down and played dead. He was treated for a shotgun blast to the leg; he took five pellets to the knee and one to the chin. He was released before April 24, 1999.

Kacey Ruegsegger (17 in 1999) -  She suffered multiple injuries including a gunshot wound to the right shoulder, a through-and-through injury to her right hand that medical officials pulled a metal washer out of, and a gunshot graze on her neck. They pulled a shotgun wad out of her shoulder. At the hospital she was given at least two doses of morphine and was still in quite a bit of pain. A steel plate was put in her arm and she went through lengthy physical therapy. She was released from the hospital on May 1, 1999.  

Lisa Kreutz (18 in 1999) - She was hit several times, sustaining multiple gunshot wounds to her shoulder, hand, and both arms. She lay bleeding in the library for 2.5 hours, unable to move due to the severity of her injuries, before she was rescued by officials. She was the last survivor to be pulled from the library. Lisa was released from the hospital April 28, 1999.

Valeen Schnurr (18 in 1999) - suffered nine soft tissue wounds to her left arm, chest, and abdomen from shrapnel and through-and-through bullet wounds. she was released from Swedish April 27. Graduated from Columbine May 22. She graduated from Columbine May 23, 1999 despite her injuries

Mark Kintgen (17 in 1999) - When the shooters entered the library and began to kill people Mark didn't see much from where he was hiding but he clearly heard one of them say after shots were fired: "Oh look at his brains!". Laughter from the killers followed. Not long after that he heard one of the two assailants shoot out a nearby glass display case. The gunman then went over to the table where Mark was hiding and shot at him. Mark took a bullet to the head and one to the shoulder. The bullet in Mark's head was surgically removed. He was released from Denver Health April 23 with a bullet still lodged in his shoulder.

Nicole Nowlen (16 in 1999)) -  was hiding under the table with John Tomlin when the shooters entered the library. She was shot in the abdomen but survived.

Jeanna Park (18 в 1999) - She was hit in the right knee, right shoulder and left foot, and fell to the floor where she stayed until she noticed some of the other people in the library getting up and leaving.She went to leave as well, checking the computer tables for her sister. Not seeing her, Jeanna left alone.

Jennifer Doyle (17 in 1999) - was hit with three shotgun pellets in her right hand: One crushed her ring finger, another entered her wrist, and another entered the back of her hand, resulting in seven broken bones. Released from the hospital April 24, 1999.

Austin Eubanks (16 in 1999) - He was put in the hospital and treated for a gunshot gazed knee. He was released the same day and graduated from Columbine High School on May 20, 2000.

Remember the survivors

[dr-m-r-ma]

Electric Shock

Part 17/30

Genre: drama, romance Rating: PG-13 Group: Monsta X Summary of previous chapter: Hyo-jin gets ice cream with Monsta X. Shownu is confronted by his manager about his feelings towards Hyo-jin. While walking back to their van, Wonho suddenly stops walking and Shownu crashes into him.

Disclaimer: This is 100% fictional and my own story. It is unrelated to the actual events and real persons of Monsta X and Starship. Hyo-jin Lee is a completely made-up character that I created for this fanfic. Parts will be written in Korean with English translations. I did not major in English/Korean, nor was I ever strong in English/Korean grammar, so there will be grammatical mistakes. This is also the first fanfic I have ever written, so please overlook small mistakes. This fanfic is written in third person and past-tense for ease of writing.

Wonho, who was walking in front of him, stopped walking and Shownu's head crashed into Wonho's back. Shownu growled, " 야! 갑자기 멈추면 어떡해?! " (Translation: "Hey! Why'd you stop suddenly?!") Wonho pulled Shownu's arm, which made Shownu look up in wonder.

There stood a man, with a dirty baseball jacket and run down jeans, holding some kind of stick loosely in one hand and a mask in the other. Everyone stopped dead in their tracks and wondered why he was just standing there, staring at them. Shownu squinted and tried to gauge the man's expression or face but he was standing under a flickering street light, so the shadows hid his face more. All of a sudden, Shownu heard I.M. call out,

" 저기요. 이효진씨. 이효진씨! 괜찮아요? 왜그래요? " (Translation: "Hey. Miss Hyo-jin. Miss Hyo-jin! Are you okay? What's wrong?") Alarmed, Shownu rushed to Hyo-jin's side. She was staring deeply at the man, almost as if her eyes were filled with terror but at the same time empty at the soul, and trembling. One hand was clutching onto I.M.'s jacket and she seemed to struggle to stand.

Shownu blocked her view of the man and grasped her shoulders, knocking her ice cream down along the way. He called out to her,

" 이효진씨. 이효진씨. 제 말 들려요? 어디 안 좋아요? " (Translation: "Miss Hyo-jin. Miss Hyo-jin. Can you hear me? Are you not feeling well?") He shook her, trying to wake her from her stupor, but she continued staring blankly at the same spot the man stood. He leaned forward, leveling his eyes to hers, and whispered,

" 제 말 들리면 저를 봐요. " (Translation: "If you can hear me, look at me.") Hyo-jin's eyes flickered and the life in her eyes seemed to come back. She looked at him and he sighed in relief. Her legs gave out immediately and she nearly slipped out of his hands - he just barely caught her before she crashed onto the icy ground.

" ㅇ-어어 어어어어 --! " (Translation: "U-uh uhhhhh--!")

" 저 사람 여기 오는 것 같은데--! " (Translation: "That person seems to be coming over--!")

Minhyuk and Kihyun yelled simultaneously, and before Shownu could react, Hyo-jin pushed him out of the way. With her knees growing cold on the icy ground, she - and the others - stayed still and watched the man walk closer to them. He dragged, what was now visible, a baseball bat on the ground as he approached closer. His other hand gripped tightly at a mask, which Shownu recognized.

" 설마... " (Translation: "No way...") Shownu mumbled. He glanced over at Hyo-jin, and she seemed to recognize him. He wondered, '기억이나나? 아까는 완전히 까먹은 것 같았는데...' (Translation: 'Does she remember? She seemed to completely forget previously...') He looked back at the man. The man had stopped walking towards them and stood a short distance away from the group. Shownu peered at the man and noticed he had an empty look in his eyes, but the opposite of Hyo-jin's empty eyes. It was empty and dead, but it was filled with rage at the same time. Wonho and Minhyuk whispered,

" 우리 빨리 가자. " (Translation: "Let's hurry and leave.") I.M. reached over to Hyo-jin and tried to pull her up. Right then,

" HEY HYO. "

Everyone looked at the man, as his voice boomed. He dropped the mask, a clown mask, and swung his bat back and forth from one hand to the other. I.M. looked down and asked,

" ... do you know him? " Everyone's heads whipped back and looked down at Hyo-jin, having understood I.M.'s question. Minhyuk asked in a panicked voice,

" ㅁ-뭐야. 아-아는 사이에요? " (Translation: "W-what. You guys k-know each other?")

Hyo-jin stayed silent, staring at the man. Her eyes were filled with so much terror that the others couldn’t bring themselves to question her, but Minhyuk leaned down and whispered in her ear,

" 아는 사람이면 왜 저렇게 무섭게 다니냐고 좀 물어봐요! " (Translation: "If you know him, ask him why he's going around scarily like that!")

Shownu yanked Minhyuk away from Hyo-jin and growled, " 그러지마. " (Translation: "Stop that.") Minhyuk gaped and frowned at Shownu in betrayal. Shownu crouched down and looked at Hyo-jin, who had tears spilling over her eyes that still stared blankly at the man. His hand reached over to her face and his thumb grazed her cheek, catching a stream of tears. Shownu worried since she didn't react at all to his actions. She seemed like an empty shell cranking out tears endlessly, frozen in place.

" HYOOO ~ "

The man crooned loudly. He slung the the baseball bat over his shoulder and took a few steps closer while the other members inched backwards. He yelled out again,

" HYO~ I THINK WE NEED A TALK, DON'T YOU THINK? "

Hyo-jin quivered at the question and Shownu tensed up at her reaction. She croaked out, " R..Ryan... how..."

" I CAN'T HEAR YOU. YOU GOTTA COME CLOSER. LET'S TALK OVER THERE. "

The man, Ryan, pointed at a small street, an alleyway, near him. He cracked a toothy smile and Hyo-jin shuddered at the sight. She hesitated, then shook her head. She wiped her tears with her numb hands and with a shaky voice she replied,

" H-how... Why are you here? "

Seeing that she wasn't going to follow him easily wiped the smile cleanly off Ryan's face. He glared at her and his eyes flashed to Shownu. In that moment, Shownu felt a chill running up and down his spine. When Shownu met his glare and glared back, he felt the man's threatening and chilling aura.

Ryan started walking towards Shownu, swinging the baseball bat loosely. He yelled,

" HEY, DO YOU THINK THIS GUY NEEDS A WARNING... OR NAH? "

Shownu flinched, belatedly realizing this dangerous man was coming closer to him and threatening him. He looked around and noticed the fear implanted in all the other members’ eyes. An arm wrapped around his body at this moment and he arched backwards, realizing a few beats late that Wonho grabbed him and was dragging him away.

" NO! "

Hyo-jin ran in between and stood firmly in front of the man. Her arms were outreached on each side as if to block any force towards Shownu. She no longer swayed nor did her legs wobble, and she held her ground strongly while blocking the man from walking anywhere near Shownu. However, all Shownu saw was a trembling girl who tried hard to stand strong. He looked over her shoulder and straight at the man, who had fire rapidly growing in his eyes.

Ryan leaned forward and rasped, " Aren't you protecting him well... " He spat on the ground and glared at Shownu again.

Having used most of her energy to yell previously, Hyo-jin whispered,

" Let's talk. Leave these people alone. "

" Hmm... only if you're obedient. " Ryan turned around on his heels and walked away. Hyo-jin let her arms fall down to her sides and started following him.

Shownu frowned at the sight and violently broke away from Wonho's grasp to run and grab Hyo-jin's arm. He pulled her back and asked,

" 잠깐만, 어디가요? 어디 가려고 저 사람 따라가요?! " (Translation: "Wait, where are you going? Where are you going that you need to follow him?!")

Before Hyo-jin could answer, Ryan stopped in his tracks. Without turning back to face them, he called out in a taunting manner,

" I don't know what that bastard is saying but if you don't come here right now, I'm gonna kill everyone here. "

With that, Hyo-jin yanked her arm out of Shownu's grasp and stepped back to stay out of his reach. Minhyuk and Kihyun murmured to each other, trying to comprehend his threat. She grabbed Wonho's phone, dialed 119 (*911) and handed it back to him without pressing the call button. She quietly instructed him,

" 10분 이따 부르세요. 경찰 불러서 상황 얘기하시고 그냥 가세요. 근처에 오시마시고 그냥 가세요. 경고하는데 따라오면 큰일나요. " (Translation: "Call in 10 minutes. Tell the police the situation and leave. Don't come near and just leave. I'm warning you, if you follow it'll be bad.")

Wonho stuttered, " 잠-잠깐 아니-- " (Translation: "W-wait no --")

She whispered, "그 어떤 소리가 들려도 경찰한테 맡기고 그냥 가세요. 아셨죠??" (Translation: "No matter what you hear just leave it to the police and leave. Got it??")

" HYOOOOO you know I don't have patience~~ "

Hyo-jin shouted back, " I'm coming, I'm just telling them not to follow!! "

Wonho stood frozen with the phone in his hand and Shownu stood still, not understanding quickly enough as to what was being said and what was going on. He reached for Hyo-jin once more, but she had already stepped back even further. Still facing Monsta X and their manager, who were petrified in their places, she bowed once and turned to run back to the man. They watched Hyo-jin catch up to the man, turn into a small street and disappear from their sight.

Wonho panicked and turned to their manager, asking " 어떡해 어떡해 저 사람 위험한것 같은데 경찰 지금 불러야 되는거 아니야?? " (Translation: "omg omg that person seems dangerous so shouldn't we call the police now??") He started hyperventilating while Minhyuk, Kihyun and Hyungwon plopped down as their legs gave away. The manager worriedly looked after the members, with one hand on Minhyuk and the other patting Wonho to calm him down.

On the other hand, Jooheon and I.M. approached their leader quietly. Shownu was still facing the path Hyo-jin took to follow the man. I.M. paused. There was something eerily off about Shownu. Before he knew it, the leader started walking in the direction Hyo-jin left. He frantically ran in front of Shownu and yelled,

" 형! 안돼! 가면 안돼! " (Translation: "Hyung! Stop! You can't go!")

" 아니, 나.. 나 가야돼, " (Translation: "No, I... I have to go,") he whispered. He trudged forward, pushing I.M. out of the way. I.M. ran back to block Shownu again. This time, I.M. slammed his body against Shownu to force him to back off. I.M. knew that it would be impossible to stop Shownu without using force -- Shownu was basically a human bulldozer. When Shownu geared up to fight back, he felt a sturdy arm hold him back. He yanked his arm out of the hold and walked menacingly towards I.M., ready to shove him out of the way. However, now a set of firm arms had wrapped around and locked over Shownu's torso and pulled him away from I.M. Shownu desperately tried to pull the arms off, but to no avail.

" 셔누형. 그만. 경찰 불르고 기다리자. " (Translation: "Shownu-hyung. Stop. Let's call the police and wait.")

Shownu halted. He stopped squirming and lifelessly stood, not believing that Jooheon was holding him back with such strength and force. Jooheon held firmly onto Shownu while speaking in a calm, low voice,

" 걱정되는거 아는데 경찰이 형보다 더 좋을거야. 그냥 여기서 기다리자. " (Translation: "I know you're worried but the police are going to be better than you are. Let's just wait here.") At that, Shownu slowly slid down and sat on the icy concrete ground. Jooheon also sat, behind him, and pat the leader's shoulders to comfort him. Shownu closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, trying to erase the sudden wave of anger and violence that thrashed inside of him. He opened his eyes and looked at I.M., who was noticeably startled by Shownu. I.M., and the other members, had never seen Shownu grow this agitated and angry.

Shownu murmured, " 미안하다 막내야... 내가 돌았나봐.. 진짜.. 미안하다 창균아. " (Translation: "Sorry maknae... I must've been crazy.. Really.. sorry Changkyun.") I.M. simply nodded numbly.

The manager came over and said, " 경찰을 좀 미리 불렀으니까 더 빨리 올거야. 걱정하지마, 괜찮을거야. " (Translation: "I called the police a little early so they'll come quicker. Don't worry, it's going to be okay.")

Then, they waited in silence.

*** TBC ***

[seagreen-meets-grey]

It’s gravity that pulls the rain down

Every B99 finale gets more dramatic, we all know that. I recently had an idea for the next one, after watching probably too many MsMojo Top 10 videos and a very specific scene from Pretty Little Liars.

I told @astrangetypeofchemistry about it, then wrote it, then she made me post it. Get ready for some fluff and angst.

Amy was floating. She was walking on clouds, the war between her feet and her shoes completely forgotten, banished into another dimension, one where she was no bird, no eagle, levitating high up in the sky, soaring through the fluffiest clouds to ever grace the skies. What was gravity even? It certainly didn’t seem to affect her anymore.

I do.

She couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t contain the bounce in her every step. The actually cloudy sky outside wouldn’t faze her. If it rained, the eagle would simply fly higher, until it broke through the clouds, waiting for the rain to wash away the last remnants of any recent stress and worries, before it could dive back into the sea of cotton candy. (Amy didn’t know much about eagles.)

I do.

Three letters. Two words. One second. She couldn’t tell what was more intoxicating, saying those words herself or hearing him say them. Each time, she felt like her chest would swell so much it would explode any moment, creating a path for the billions of butterflies that were dancing inside her so wildly. They were in their own little bubble, far away from the rest of the world. She felt the slight tremble of both their hands, felt his thumb lightly stroke her knuckles, absentmindedly lingering on the new golden band on her ring finger.

The kiss they shared brought this moment to completion. Amy wrapped her arms around Jake’s neck and he pulled her close, their bodies pressed together, both of them holding onto the other for dear life, not giving in to their weak knees. Amy could taste the love on his lips, warm and soft and perfect, while her entire body was tingling, and she was sure she just ascended from the ground, ready to join the stars in the sky. A second later, however, her feet touched the ground again and somewhere in the back of her head she realized Jake had picked her up, but the rest of her mind was busy melting when they broke their kiss and she fell into a pool – no, two pools – of warm, brown sparkles, like a chocolate pudding made of love. Any other day, this comparison would have sounded too Charles to her, but right now, she knew nothing but him. Her husband.

On this day, nothing could bring her down. Not Charles’ over-enthusiastic comments about their wedding night, not the rain drops increasing in size and amount every other second, not her parents fighting with Karen and Roger over the right way to pour wine, or that Gina had finally annoyed the DJ so much that he simply gave in and played her playlist.

She was in the middle of a conversation with her great-aunt when the volume of the music suddenly peaked, prompting everyone who wasn’t on the other side of the room, far away from the DJ’s desk and a shocked Gina who quickly drew her hands away from it, to cover their ears.

That was when she felt it. For the first time since she woke up this morning, a frown crept onto Amy’s face. Something wasn’t right. She had a weird feeling in her gut, one that felt hauntingly similar to the tight strings pulling on her heart and tightening her chest and stomach that she usually associated with danger – more precisely, Jake and danger. She’d felt it when Geoffrey Hoytsman had abducted him, when he and Charles were trapped in that store during a robbery at Christmas, when he’d gotten that phone call from Figgis that sent him away from her for months, and of course at the horrible sound of that one little word – guilty.

Amy scanned the room for Jake but came up short. Her muscles just wouldn’t relax, and her heart was beating so hard she was sure it was visible, as if she were in a cartoon and–

She didn’t see Milton Boyle pull Gina away from the DJ, didn’t notice the music return to an agreeable volume, didn’t hear her great-aunt try to continue their conversation. She only saw Rosa. Her frown matched Amy’s as she warily eyed a door on the side. Amy ignored her great-aunt and made a bee-line for Rosa who was aiming for the door.

“Rosa, have you seen Jake?”

“I think he went outside, like, ten minutes ago.” She lowered her voice, frown deepening. “I think I just heard a gun go off.”

Amy’s heart jumped into her throat. Her gut twisted even more.

Rosa saw her paling. “Either that, or your husband’s playing with firecrackers outside. It’s probably that. Nothing to worry about.”

Amy nodded reluctantly. No need to panic. Everything was fine. This was her wedding day, the best day of her life. The only thing that could go wrong on this day, other than Gina messing with the music, was her husband (she loved the sound of that) destroying his suit and other people’s cars with firecrackers. Knowing him, he was probably planning something. Something involving firecrackers, and presumably fireworks and ridiculous music. He wasn’t in a fight with Figgis or Hawkins, that was impossible, no matter what her mind came up with.

Nevertheless, her weird gut feeling didn’t go away. So, just to prove to herself that everything was indeed fine, she opened the door and rushed through the small hall toward another door that led to the parking lot behind the venue, Rosa following her.

The rain had gone over into a drizzle. With half a mind not to ruin her dress and hair, Amy stopped in the doorway, the hand that had opened the door falling to her side.

The first thing she saw was cars, cars upon cars. Not far to her left, Jake stood with his back to her and Rosa who appeared only a second later. Amy didn’t see a fire or broken glass anywhere, and she heard no car alarm. Whatever Jake was doing out here, whatever Rosa had heard, it was fine. No matter what her gut told her.

“Jake?”

At first, he didn’t react. Just when Amy thought he hadn’t heard her, he spoke, murmuring something about the rain. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rosa take a step forward, half into the drizzle that was now rapidly transitioning into a steady pour.

“What the hell are you doing, Peralta?” Rosa shouted over the rain. “It’s raining like crazy, come inside!”

Jake seemed to shake off whatever trance he’d been in and slowly turned around.

First, she noticed his dull eyes and pale face that suddenly turned into a grimace, as if he just now realized something. Then, as his eyes trailed down his body, hers followed him, stopping at a red stain on his white shirt, right where the buttons of his jacket had opened. The red stain kept growing, however, and Jake’s eyes widened slightly, as if surprised by what he was seeing.

Then he collapsed.

Amy couldn’t tell who screamed. If it was Rosa with a loud curse, or if it was her who forgot about the rain and stumbled to his side, dropping to the ground, no thoughts wasted on her white dress getting dirt all over it.

She pressed her hand on the ever-growing blood stain on his stomach. His eyes fluttered closed, losing their struggle to stay opened.

“Jake! Jake, open your eyes!” Amy raised one hand, now covered in blood, to his face. “Don’t you dare close your eyes, Peralta! Look at me!” Her voice cracked over the last words and she pressed her thumb down on his cheek, unbeknownst to the tears trailing down her own face. She didn’t hear Rosa call 911, didn’t register the rain soaking her dress, or her hair falling into her face.

Her hand left his face, grabbed his hand and squeezed. “Please, Jake… Don’t do this to me! Open your eyes, talk to me, please stay with me!” The blood was now covering half his shirt. Some of it was on her dress; if it came from her hand or was soaking in from his wound, she didn’t know.

She was sobbing now, panicking, screaming his name, begging him to open his eyes. And then he did.

His eyelids fluttered open halfway, locking with hers. Amy felt a light squeeze on her hand. Then it went limp and his eyes closed again, head lolling to the side.

In the stories, this would have been the moment the dying character wanted to see his loved ones one more time before… No. This wasn’t the stories. This was real life, this was her and Jake’s wedding day, they just got married, despite everything their lives kept throwing at them, and maybe even because of that. They were one. And she wasn’t going to lose her other half, not now, not ever.

The next sob got stuck in her throat. Her mouth opened and shut, as if to keep screaming, but no sound came out. She was still squeezing his hand, waiting for him to squeeze back again, but it remained slack.

Someone tried to pull her away from him. She struggled against it, not ready to leave his side, never ready to do that. Several pairs of strong hands grabbed her and, against her kicking and screaming, moved her under a canopy from where she watched two paramedics stretcher Jake off into an ambulance, out of her sight.

Amy was floating. But not between clouds. She was floating in brackish water, the stream pulling her down, down. A wet grave. The eagle wasn’t soaring anymore. It had been shot. Had plummeted through the clouds, like a stone. Fast, faster, until it crashed, until it hit the water, hard. She was drowning in the rain, in her tears, in her fear.

And gravity pulled her down.

We all know that main characters won’t die, especially not Jake. So I’m all in for this scenario. Btw he was attacked. It was probably some enemy from the latest storyline or a lackey or just some mugger or whatever. Anyway, they probably wrestled and when the gun went off the attacker fled the scene, and it all went very fast. It’s your imagination.

[donttellpeterparker]

Helping Hand

Summary: Who knew that being saved by spiderman would start a blossoming friendship... or maybe something more?

Requested: No

​​​​​​​Word Count: 1k+

Taglist: 

Warning(s)?: Swearing, violence

masterlist (x) requests (x)

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

Part 2  Part 3  Part 4

Helping Hand

You sat at your desk, currently immersed in the project you were currently working on for biology. Unfortunately for you, you were left with a useless partner... again.

You held the pen angrily in your hand, almost wanting to just destroy this project so your so called partner will get a zero. But that wasn't an option, it was a joined grade so if he failed unfortunately so did you. 

*knock, knock* 

You were too busy focusing on your current formula to notice the faint knock at your bedroom window. Pushing the glasses further up your nose, you crossed out a few equations that wouldn't work and decided to make a new one, but this time you weren't just going to find a solution to the problem, you were going to figure out how to prevent the problem from even happening in the first place.

*knock*

This one was louder so you heard it pretty clearly. You spun your head around to see a guy in a red and blue spandex... not again.

You shake your head and get up, walking over to your bedroom window and flip over the switch. You lived in a set of apartment blocks so to even get to your windows you had to climb the fire escape 20 stories up. 

You opened the window, noticing that 'Bug Boy' was again... injured. 

''What am I going to do with you...''

~Few months back

To say that walking this late at night back home wasn't at least a little bit terrifying would be a lie. Though you have done this many times, it still wasn't safe. This was Queens in New York city but still you were in the city, the crime rate at least being 60% higher than surrounding suburbs. 

You hugged your black coat closer around your body, it was just the beginning of winter which meant the winds suddenly felt like ice particles scraping against your skin. How can it seriously get so cold so quick? Global warming probably. 

You rounded the corner, with a little hop in your step you saw your apartment block just at the end of the road. 

''Help! Please someone help!'' You halted. You glanced left and right, wondering were the shouting.. screaming was coming from. 

''HELP!'' This time you started to move, closer and closer to the source of the sound. Pretty stupid idea isn't it? Call the cops and let them handle this? 

So that's exactly what you did. You reached inside your pocket for your iphone and began to dial 911. 

''Drop it'' You froze, you could feel cool metal pressed against the side of your head. Gulping nervously you began to let the phone slip through your fingers. 

''Hello 911, What's your emerge-'' The sound of your phone being crashed into a million pieces. Sure enough the guy to your right had stomped on your phone causing it to shatter. 

What were you to do in this situation? You've done what he says now what? 

''Move'' wow this guys vocabulary is so extensive. 

Without hesitation you did as he said, you began to walk slowly. 

''For fucks sake'' You could feel the cool metal pressed against your head replaced by a firm grip on your upper right arm, he was literally now dragging you along with him. To say it hurt would be an understatement this man had an iron grip but you weren't going to complain. Not unless you wanted a bullet planted inside your skull. 

He pushed you forward into a dark alleyway where you could see a women being held by her throat against the wall. You took a deep breath, not wanting the reality for your situation to sink through. This is just a dream, this isn't real, you can wake up now Y/N.

Without realizing it you've stopped moving, causing the guy to become more irritated with you. 

The girl or... woman who was held again the wall turned her head slightly to face you, tears streaming down her face along with blood which seemed to be from the wounds across her face.

''Keep it moving Missy'' Your eyes began to become blurry with tears and it wasn't until now your heart was starting to beat at an alarming rate. You were too in shock to notice you were literally in a life and death situation. 

''W-what's happenin-n-ng" You stuttered out. 

You were patiently waiting for a response from the guy holding onto your arm- wait a minute. You glanced to your right to see that the guy that was holding you was now in fact gone.

''What the hell!'' You turned in the opposite direction to see the guy now.. tapped? across the wall. Wait tape doesn't look like that. 

You heard a grunt and turned around again, seeing the guy that was holding up the lady in a choke hold now lying on the ground in pain. Without thinking about it you walked closer over to the woman, making sure she was alright. You helped her back up to her feet, while letting your eyes rapidly search the alleyway for who just saved your life. 

''Y-y-your h-i-i-im" Once you had your arm firmly wrapped around the woman's waist you looked up to the guy who originally held you at gun point stutter. 

It wasn't till now that you saw who your savior was.

''Spiderman"

~Present

After that he used his webs as mode of transport to take the lady from your arms and swung her back to safety. 

''Stay here and don't move'' All you did was nod.

Sooner than later he in fact came back, making sure you were alright and wanted to take you home. You shook your head saying to him you only lived down the road and instead of replying he just lead the way. You guessed he was taking you home. 

Ever since that night you thought you would never see him again or at least kinda hopped... seeing you didn't feel like being in a life death situation ever again. 

Though not two nights later you found him at your bedroom window, the one he took you in so you didn't have to wake your parents and explain what had happened. 

You were surprised to say the least but didn't hesitate to open the window. 

''You wouldn't happen to have a first aid kit on you by a chance?'' He spoke out through heavy breathing, obviously in pain. 

Little did you know this would be the start of your guys little rendezvous. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: part two??

[electraposts]

great lakes and expectations snippet preview

'The drop site is compromised.'

He didn't see anyone, but they were waiting for him. Jiraiya kept an easy smile and swaggered on up the road.

'Did my contact sell me out, or is it a third party?'

Whoever it was waited until he'd stuck a key in the post box. The kunai thudded into a metal mailbox when he dodged. A postal worker inside looked up at the sound and screamed. She dropped to her knees behind the counter as the second weapon shattered through the glass that separated the boxes and the mailing area.

Jiraiya winced. “Hey, hey!” He batted a shuriken off course and clapped his hands into rat. “Be careful! It's business hours.” The illusion he'd sensed melted away, revealing a minefield of traps.

His eyebrows shot up. “Rude.”

A woman wearing the band of a Kiri traitor silently dropped off the ceiling with a jagged sword. He cursed and danced away. She rushed him with a grim look, because that was just how Kiri made their shinobi. He gripped the first kunai and wrenched it out of the mailbox with a tooth-aching screech  of metal. He parried her strike almost lazily and stretched his foot out to trip her. She stabbed at it.

Movement behind.

Jiraiya leaned to the side- and the woman's comrade speared her with another kunai. She let out an indignant shout and put a hand up, too late.

“You should get that looked at,” Jiraiya said helpfully.

He could see dirt under her blunt nails when she wrapped her hand around the handle of the weapon in her shoulder. She bared her teeth at him, because of course she did.

Jiraiya pre-emptively winced on her behalf because he could see where this was going.

The kiri woman pulled the kunai out in a spray of blood. He caught it out of his peripheral vision because two more shinobi were pincering him in. The next seconds were flashes of blood and steel- mostly their steel, because he was more interested in figuring these people out than impressing them with his repertoire.

Stranger two was male, with no headband at all. Number three declared current allegiance to Sunagakure, but that was probably not true. If Suna was accepting missions to attack Konoha, their ally, they wouldn't do it with village insignia on.

'This is a motley group. Could be what it looks like, but it is rare for missing nin from different villages to band like this.'

A lot of chakra was rising behind him. The kind of chakra that required his full attention. Jiraiya stole stranger 3's sword and kicked him into the wall in one movement. He was cutting out stranger 2's throat before he'd even registered the sound of bones breaking on impact.

The woman from Kiri was mid-summon, using a lot of blood. ...The blood from the wound near her heart.

“Shit,” Jiraiya said passionately. He tossed the garbage sword aside as he lunged toward the scroll she was using, reading it as quickly as possible. Something sentient, something from a great lake -

He didn't catch any more and the first thing he thought of was a mirror seal. He smeared it over the seal with the woman's own blood, covering part of her seal and corrupting the whole thing. If he was lucky, it'd create a loop, making the seal useless by calling on the user's chakra instead of the beast she wanted.

But there was smoke, even as the missing-nin gave a strangled scream. It ended on a high, sudden note.

There was a squelch.

She couldn't sleep.

Regina dully weighed the situation yet again. Her battery was at 6% now. She could read a little while longer. Or she could lean out of bed and plug it in, but then she'd have to put the phone down and lay alone with her thoughts.

'I don't want to let my phone die,' she tried to convince herself. 'I need the alarm.'

It felt bleak as hell to even think about going to work in less than 5 hours. She needed to sleep, but she couldn't because all she could think about was things that made her miserable, so she kept her mind busy with reading, which kept her further from sleeping.

Maybe food would help.

Virtuous and bummed out about it, Regina left her phone on the floor to recover. Without turning on the light, she found her slippers on the end of her rug and stuck her feet in before she ventured out onto the hardwood.

She didn't have to step out barefoot to know that it was punishingly cold. That was all you could expect from winter here.

'I feel so weird.'

Regina rubbed at her chest, trying not to wince at just... she didn't know what, exactly. But she felt off.

Tomorrow was going to fucking suck. She should have been asleep three hours ago, but she wasn't, and she was exhausted but going to sleep was absolutely unthinkable.

She made it down the stairs with minimal creaking, which was good. But the fridge seemed utterly uninspiring.

Light caught her eye.

Regina flinched away with a frown, bringing a hand up.

'It's what, 3 in the morning? Who is up?'

She unlocked the door and pulled it open, trying to see what was going on. Someone's headlights, it had to be. But she couldn't see a car out on the road...

'It's coming from the other side of the house.'

Curious, Regina leaned out as far as she could without opening the screen door, but she couldn't see.

“I don't even think there's enough room to fit a car between the lake and the hedge.”

Did... did someone put their car in the lake or something?

...Her boots were at the front door, on the other side of the house.

She glanced down at her white slippers and the pristine glitter pompoms at the tips. She hesitated for a moment- she could shuck off her shoes and just go barefoot.

'Fuck it. It's too cold. I can replace these if I can't save them.'

Regina opened the second door and slipped out. The night wind slammed it behind her immediately, but she was already padding out to see what was going on.

The light was gone.

God. If someone was in the lake, what was she going to do? Sprint inside to grab her phone to call 911? She shuffled as fast as she could without losing her shoes. She definitely should not go in after anyone. One more person dying in Lake Superior wasn't going to help whatever drunk bastard had careened into the water.

She cleared the hedge and stopped. She could feel her brow drawing down, forming lines across her forehead and between her eyebrows.

It was eerie quiet.

Her muscles were stiff. Regina had the unsettling superstition that she needed to stay as still as possible, that if she even breathed she would draw some unwanted attention.

Ridiculous. She breathed in.

and gasped, grabbing at her chest. It was on fire! What was this, some kind of pain, a heart attack? No, it was too far up, almost to her shoulder.

She heard herself making a weird, high noise like a wounded animal. She stumbled back and fell onto the dirt. Her hand was wet. Disbelieving, she craned her neck to stare down, trying to see in the dark. But it wasn't dark anymore. The air was heavy and it stank like iron and salt and the light she'd seen before was ringing her feet, a huge spiral that dipped in and out of the water of the lake she lived too close to.

“This is some shit,” Regina said, disbelieving. The light winked out to total darkness- and then it was daylight. She bumped down onto a tile floor and suddenly had full visibility.

Regina grabbed at her shirt and pulled it away from her skin-

“Freaky.”

Her clothes were soaked with blood that had to be hers. But there was no wound in her skin. She leaned back shakily, setting her filthy palms onto the floor. And then she wondered what was under her legs. Regina leaned to the side to peer down and then would have screamed if she'd had any air. She scrambled back as fast as she could.

A dead woman grinned up at her, head lolling in a way that looked like she'd been dead when she fell and hadn't controlled her muscles at all.

Broken glass was sparkling around the floor, lit up in the sunlight and drowning in a puddle of blood. The woman was holding a big roll of paper- or her hand was on top of it, anyway.

A man was standing over both of them, and he was looking right at Regina. Her eyes went to his hands- he... he wasn't holding any weapon.

There were more bodies. Two of them.

Her mind was making an unpleasant connection between the three dead people and the very big man in the room. He did not look nonthreatening. He looked scary- he had weird clothes and wild hair and tattoos on his face.

She swallowed.

The man raised his hands, palms facing her, and he said something in a tone that was more bemused than anything else.

She felt her brow furrow. “What?”

He looked as confused as she felt, but he repeated himself. In Japanese. He was speaking Japanese, which, frankly, she wasn't that good at. She'd done one semester study abroad in undergrad. She was not prepared for this sudden test.

'I understood that he said the verb “to know” in the past tense. And he said “she.” That's it. That is not very helpful.'

She did not understand what was going on.

Well. She knew how to say that. Regina opened her mouth and let out the saddest little, “分りません. 英語できますか？”

She never did find out if he spoke English, because his expression was suddenly furious. Regina flinched back but he was spinning around, leading with his fist. It crashed into a woman's face and straight-up reversed her momentum to send her flying through the jagged remains of what had been a glass wall.

'Where did that woman come from? Why was she attacking him? Which one of them killed these people?'

Regina couldn't breathe. She kept trying, but it wasn't working and black was flashing around her eyes.

The man straightened and gave her a worried look. “すみません。大丈夫だいよう、心配しないでね。”

She disagreed. It seemed like a really good time to worry to her. She stared over at the woman he'd hit.

She was still, laying splayed on the floor where she'd fallen. By the way that blood was spreading, it was probably a good thing that Regina couldn't see the woman's face.

'That lady is not going to walk it off. She is pining for the fjords. She is pushing up daisies. She is feeding trees. She dead. Dead dead dead what the absolute fuck.'

Her whole body shuddered. She tore her eyes away to look at the only other breathing person in the room- holy shit, was this a post office? Was she having a hallucination about a post office?

The murder-punch man gave her a smile that would have been reassuring if she wasn't terrified of him. He knelt down and carefully gathered up the bloody paper in the dead woman's hands. And then he turned away from her, took two steps towards one of the bodies-

and reached up to pull open a mail box. He emptied it casually, stuffing an envelope into a bag at his hip. He closed the mail box. Turned the key. And put the key back in his pocket.

'Is this death?' Regina wondered. 'Do I deserve this?'

It seemed like some bullshit to her.

The murder-man looked up, face hardening at something in the distance. He must have heard something the way he'd heard that woman attacking him from behind, because he was suddenly urging Regina on her feet. Terrified and baffled, she let him herd her up and out and into a run past a row of quiet, dingy looking Japanese-style houses. He glanced behind them, said something that was obviously a curse, and then picked her up. Like. The way she'd pick up an empty laundry basket.

She did not protest, nor did she have time to. Suddenly, they were going really fast.

Regina watched scraggly green bushes flash away and had a sickening realization hit the bottom of her stomach.

'I'm going to be really late for work.'

Chapter 1.

She did not adjust that well.

There were some things she was proud of, in retrospect. Namely, her sense of self-preservation was pretty strong. After about a week of being tugged around by Jiraiya, Regina decided that he was no harm to her. But it had still been a good decision to deliberately not be interested at all in the papers that he'd killed those people in the post office for. He had strong feelings about his letters and she was gonna respect that.

She had continued to respect it until he had finished burning all of the papers in the fire he'd made by breathing flames at some tree limbs he'd broken with his huge, horrifyingly strong hands. Because privacy was important. No other reason.

She'd also kept a fairly even head and locked down the screaming panic to deal with at a later time. It hadn't seemed like a good idea to risk annoying Jiraiya by crying all the time.

'Now I'm pretty sure he's more likely to comfort me than get angry with me. Still not ready to try it.'

Other than that, it was a goddamn mess. Traveling with Jiraiya was disorienting as hell. It was either a monotonous trod down dirt roads or being flung over his shoulder whenever he got spooked. He was only fun when they were in a hotel or restaurant.

To be fair, he probably would have been a better travel companion if they could understand each other.

She still didn't have a straight answer about how she'd arrived. Regina had risked his annoyance by asking him twice. She understood most of the words he was using, but putting them all in context wasn't working out that great. She was, like, 70% certain that his explanation hinged on a word she could only interpret at 'the fine arts'. The fine arts. Like. Some dickhead had been inspired to paint, and that had involved her traveling...?

Her mind shied away from any way to finish that sentence.

It was insane to think that she had gone from Minnesota to Japan because of the fine arts. It was even worse that she had the creeping feeling that this couldn't possibly be Japan.

Evidence for her being in Japan was as follows :

People in the area speak Japanese. (convincing)

Some people are wearing traditional Japanese clothes (cool. Is it Kyoto?)

other people are wearing clothes she can only describe as cool and weird, which could easily be a rural Japanese fashion movement that she hadn't seen while she was studying in the city.

A lot of things look old-style Japanese, like houses and gardens and farm plots and statues

Evidence against her being in Japan:

Social norms seemed pretty different. She probably would have noticed in Kobe if people were getting into fistfights on the daily

Magic: what the fuck?

The roads weren't paved.

..

That’s all for that! The rest of the first chapter is up on my patreon already. I’ll be posting this full thing next week, when I will have the next chapter done or mostly done. Hopefully.

[nosy-talk]

UPDATE: 13 dead, including gunman, in shooting at Virginia Beach Municipal Center

VIRGINIA BEACH

A longtime city employee shot and killed 12 people and injured at least four others after opening fire Friday afternoon in the public works building, making it the country’s deadliest mass shooting this year. 

Police said officers killed the man, whom they did not name, after he fired at them in the city’s scenic Municipal Center in Princess Anne, a campus of about 30 brick Colonial-style buildings.

The four injured were all in surgery Friday, Police Chief James Cervera said during a news conference a couple of hours after the massacre.

One officer was shot during the exchange but was saved by his bulletproof vest, the chief said.

“This is the most devastating day in the history of Virginia Beach,” Mayor Bobby Dyer said in the news conference. “The people involved are our friends, co-workers, neighbors and colleagues.”

Friday’s rampage is believed to be the worst mass killing in Virginia Beach’s history. Prior to this week, a shooting on June 30, 1994, at the Witchduck Inn held that distinction: Four people — the business owner, two employees and a patron — were shot to death at the restaurant. It also came on the heels of a shooting in Chesapeake’s Holly Cove community over Memorial Day weekend that left one dead and nine others injured.

In the U.S., it is the deadliest attack since the November 2018 shooting at Borderline Bar & Grill in California, when 12 people were killed. 

L. Todd Spencer/Staff Police work the scene where 12 people were killed during a mass shooting at the Virginia Beach city public works building on Friday evening, May 31, 2019. The shooter, a current and longtime public utilities employee, also was killed. An officer was shot, but was saved by his bulletproof vest.

The gunfire in Virginia Beach began shortly after 4 p.m. as workers were preparing to leave for the weekend. The shooting occurred in building 2, next to City Hall near the intersection of Nimmo Parkway and Princess Anne Boulevard. The planning, public utilities, public works departments and others are located there. The three-story brick building on Courthouse Drive houses about 400 workers.

Many of the employees work out of small office spaces along long hallways. The doors are typically unlocked and open to the public.

The shooter on Friday was a current employee of the public utilities department, Cervera said. He came armed with a .45-caliber handgun with a sound suppressor on it and shot one victim in a vehicle outside before entering the building. The rest were shot inside.

Cervera said police found victims on every floor of the building.  

Four officers responded, found the gunman almost immediately and then initiated what became a long gunfight with the suspect, Cervera said. After an officer shot the suspect, they administered first aid.

Virginia Beach police are investigating with help from the FBI and state police, he said. They’re still working to identify victims and contact family members. They’re also still working to notify the suspect’s next of kin. Once that is done, Cervera said, his department plans to name the suspect only once out of respect for the victims. 

Cervera said the city offices now resemble a “war zone.”

Megan Banton, an administrative assistant in the public utilities office where the man worked, said her supervisor heard a noise then shouted for everyone to get down.

The supervisor then pulled Banton and others into her office and shoved a desk against the door while Banton called 911.

“It felt like forever,” Banton said. 

Zand Bakhtiari was one of only five people left in the geographic information services department — located on the first floor of the building — at the end of the day Friday when his supervisor, who had left the office, texted to say there was an active shooter and to shelter in place.

Bakhtiari wasn’t nervous until he heard the gunshots — lots of them, one round in quick succession. He said it sounded like an automatic weapon.

“It was repeated, rapid gunfire,” he said. It sounded like it was coming from above or below him on the second floor or the basement, he said.

After a few minutes — Bakhtiari doesn’t know how much time passed — the bullets stopped, but the fire alarm had been set off. And he could smell the gunpowder.

He assumed it was over when he heard the fire alarm, but he and his co-workers didn’t know whether to evacuate or stay put, so they all came out of their individual offices and huddled together.

L. Todd Spencer/StaffA police officer stands out in front of City Hall next to the building where 12 people were killed during a mass shooting at the Virginia Beach city public works building on Friday, May 31, 2019. The shooter, a current and longtime public utilities employee, also was killed.

After about 10 minutes, officers and SWAT team members came in, told them to duck down and keep their hands up as they escorted employees out and checked every room.

Arthur Felton, an 18-year employee in the planning department, was also inside when the shooting started. He evacuated the building after a co-worker heard gunshots. 

“I never thought this would happen in my building,” Felton said. “The people who were shot — I’m sure I know most of them.”

Employees’ family members were sent to Princess Anne Middle School to reunite with loved ones. 

Jonathon Gruenke/Staff Police personnel from various agencies stand outside Princess Anne Middle School in Virginia Beach on Friday evening, May 31, 2019.

Paul Swain’s fiancee sent him a text message at 4:17 p.m. that said, “They are shooting on my floor.” He said he drove to the Municipal Center so fast he was pulled over for speeding. 

The officer let him go when he told him why he was driving fast.

Swain made it to the area but was directed to reunite with his fiancee at Princess Anne Middle School. 

“My heart is just pounding,” he said as he waited to see her again. Swain reunited with her in the parking lot.

Police did not allow media on the school’s property. When he walked into the school, he said, he was greeted by staff who had a checklist of names. People were waiting for their families in the cafeteria, he said.

Vicki Cronis-Nohe/Freelance Emergency vehicles fill the parking lot at the Princess Anne Middle School in Virginia Beach, Va, on Friday, May 31, 2019. A longtime city employee opened fire at a municipal building in Virginia Beach on Friday, killing 11 people before police shot and killed him, authorities said. Six other people were wounded in the shooting, including a police officer whose bulletproof vest saved his life, said Virginia Beach Police Chief James Cervera.

Amy Woody is trying to find her neighbor of 20 years who didn’t come home from her job at the city. She said her neighbor always returns home around 4 p.m. but wasn’t answering her text messages or phone calls. Woody arrived at the school shortly after 8:30 p.m. with her two dogs.

“I just want to make sure she is OK,” she said. “It’s definitely a very solemn feeling right now. It’s hard.”

Cheryl Benn rushed to the school after getting a frantic call from her husband, David, who is a traffic engineer and works in the building. At first all she could hear when he called was sirens.

She said her husband barricaded himself in a room away from the shooter and held the door shut until police told him it was safe to leave. 

“He was definitely a little freaked out,” Benn said.

While her husband gave detectives a statement, Benn waited outside the school with her dog.

“Some of those people could be his co-workers,” she said.  

Public Works spokesman Drew Lankford, who works in the building where the shooting occurred, left the office on Friday afternoon to get a haircut. While he was gone, his daughter called and said there had been a shooter in his work building. 

His daughter, who works in the City Hall building nearby, said security told people to get under their desks. He rushed back to the office and saw police taking cover behind parked cars with their guns drawn.

City Councilwoman Barbara Henley had pulled up to the City Hall building just after 4 p.m. to pick up the agenda as she does every week when she heard sirens and saw police cars.

“I thought it was an accident,” Henley said.

As she parked in the lot between buildings 1 and 2, she noticed city employees standing outside using their cellphones. Someone told her there was a shooting and she should leave. Henley had gotten back in her car when she heard a male voice shout, “Get down!”

People scattered.

“I was scared to death,” said Henley, who quickly drove home.

Henley said she’s never seen a situation like this before at the Municipal Center, adding that security has recently been beefed up in the City Hall building as a result of shooting incidents across the nation. Not all the municipal buildings at the complex take the same security measures, she said.

Late on Friday, Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam, who arrived in Virginia Beach a few hours after the shooting, said the people who died were heading into the summer weekend.

“That they should be taken in this manner is the worst kind of tragedy,” Northam said. “Their families are facing painful loss and grief. They each leave a hole and a family in their neighborhood, in this community and in our Commonwealth.”

Source

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[mrsirishboru]

Hell On Wheels Ch3

Clay absolutely hated the thought of you being with someone from the club, and he definitely had it out for Happy. He knew that if you became an old lady you would never continue with your career and he wasn't wrong. He knew that you loved the club and it would always come first no matter how much you said at times you hated it and that is what scared him the most.

Nearly two years later and your dad Clay was still holding a grudge against Happy for turning his little girl into an Old Lady and letting her stay in Charming and not continue her career, Happy hadn't officially made you his old lady but everyone knew that you were off limits. The only one with enough balls to actually try anything with you disappeared and Happy came home that night with a new smiley face. You knew what he did for the club, he didn't keep that from you. He told you everything, no secrets. Everything or nothing, for the both of you, it worked. You both had a rough childhood, you two got each other almost like mind readers and it just worked between the two of you.

"What room is she in?" Your eyes shot open as your heard voices on the other side of your bedroom door.

Without thinking you pulled open the side drawer and grabbed the gun that Happy always left there. You made sure it was loaded and the safety was off.

You stood in the corner of the room with the gun in your hands pointed at the bedroom door.

The door suddenly burst open, making you jump about 10 feet in the air. You quickly took aim and 5 shots rang out.

"The bitch shot me" One of the three men yelled out, as he held onto his shoulder.

"Get her" he yelled at the other 2 men, they charged after you. The adrenaline had worn off before they reached you, you fell on the floor in a puddle of blood pouring from your abdomen. You got the strength to pick your gun up and fire more shots at the intruders. You heard them run off, as your gun clicked sounding that you were out of bullets.

"Shit" you muttered, as you reached for your phone to dial 911

You grabbed your phone off the bed as you heard footsteps again, this time they didn't stop at the door they came right up to you. Grabbing you by the throat and squeezing tightly

"This isn't over" he looked you right in the eyes, even with the lack of oxygen and loss of blood you would recognize that voice anywhere. Why was he doing this to a brother's old lady?

You fell back onto the floor once he let go, coughing as you choked on the air trying to breathe.

"This is for my friend who you shot" he yelled as his boot came into contact with your stomach knocking the breath out of you.

He then stormed out of the house in a rush, once you finally caught your breath you grabbed the phone and dialed 911.

You had made it through the surgery fine and they got the bullet out with no problems, you were currently in ICU recovery room. You had woken up a few times but soon fell back to sleep because of the medications they had you on.

You finally woke up for good this time, and the nurse allowed your mom to be in the room, Clay, Jax, and Happy came in as well. You stayed up and talked to them for a few hours but eventually fell back asleep.

When you woke up you could hear the Doctor telling everyone what had happened.

An embolism caused an air bubble that traveled to your brain causing you to have a stroke leaving you brain dead, the only thing keeping you alive was the machines.

As much as you tried to talk or to show them a sign, nothing happened.

The Doctor left the room, you could hear your mom crying, your dad yelling at Happy about how this was his fault because he couldn't protect you.

The hours passed your mom was still crying, Tara had come in and explained to your mom the chances of you pulling through this and that the best option was to let you go which made your mom cry even more.

The room fell silent but was soon filled with the sound of footsteps on the floor. You could feel the presence of everyone in the room there was no need to see them you knew they were there.

"Are you ready?" You heard Tara ask, without a response the machines started beeping and alarms going off and you started to get sleepy.

The voices of everyone in the room was fading and soon everything became silent.

--

You didn't know how long you were out for nor did you remember much of what happened, but when you woke up the feeling of something stuck in your throat had your eyes watering trying to breathe. One of the nurses that were walking by saw what was happening and came into help, she pulled the tube from your throat, you sucked in as much air that was physically possible before you started coughing.

"Dr. Knowles" the nurse yelled, Tara came running into the room, her eyes widened when she saw you sitting up. The came over to you and checked your vitals while whispering things to herself.

"Uhm....uh....let me...call Gemma" she stumbled over her words before she exited the room in a hurry.

She was standing outside the room talking loud enough for you to hear the conversation

"Gemma you need to get to the hospital now"

"I'll tell you when you get here"

"Just bring everyone"

Before long the nurse left and shut the curtain to the room, you could hear everyone outside the curtain talking and asking Tara what was going on, she soon peeked her head inside the room to make sure you were still there and breathing.

She pulled the curtain back to let everyone know why she called them here, your mom ran to you and threw her arms around you. One by one everyone came and gave you a hug.

"Can I have a minute alone with him?" You asked everyone as you pointed to Happy. Everyone nodded and left but him, he walked over towards the bed.

Grabbing his hand you pulled him down towards the bed to make him sit on the bed next to you.

"I can see it in your eyes you're blaming yourself," you said as you held his hand in yours,

"I will find who did this, and I'll rip their throat out" His jaw clenched and began to twitch, you knew he was serious but you couldn't help but admire how damn sexy he was when he was pissed.

"When I get out of here, I need to talk to Jax" You looked up at him

"Tell me who it was" he demanded

"I will later after Jax knows. Until then, I'm not telling anyone. If they out that I know, they'll run" You told him, it was the truth. If they knew that you knew it was them, they would split.

---Back at the clubhouse---

"Run not go so good?" You asked Greg as he walked by holding his shoulder, he freaked out a little inside from the expression on his face.

"Yeah, Doc say's I'll live" He tried to blow it off, but inside he was freaking out and you knew it.

"That's good, I guess we're bullet wound buddies?" You laughed, as he let out a fake laugh.

"(Y/N), Happy said you needed to talk to me?" Jax walked from the hallway into the bar

"Sure do" You smiled, in the direction of Greg but he was already gone. Figures.

You followed Jax into the Chapel and took a seat in a chair near him.

"I know who broke into the house and did this?" His face stiffened, as you could tell he was very pissed.

"Who?" he almost shouted, You weren't ready to say just yet.

"I know who did it, but I don't know why? That's what I don't get?"

"Was it someone from the club?"

"Yes, but before anything is done we need to figure out why this happened to me?"

"Got any ideas?"

"Someone wanting to put pressure on you, get the blame put on you. Just think about it, all the break-ins have been on people close to the club. Lowell, Mom's place, now me. Who's got something to gain by making the club look weak, right after a change at the gavel?" Now that you were saying it out loud to him, it was starting to make since.

"Then who does it for him?" He was now on the same page as you were

"Nomads"

"They were on a run when it went down" He wasn't lying,

"Were they really? Just the 3 of them, no one else"

"Greg didn't get shot on the run did he?" You just shook your head,

"After they left I tried to call 911, one came back in told me 'this isn't over' recognized the voice right off the bat."

"Why would he send them after you?" He still didn't understand

"Because I'm close to the club, they underestimated me. He wanted a reason to get Hap voted out, saying he couldn't protect me"

"I'll let the guys know" he looked at you. You nodded and headed back out to the bar.

---

"You weren't supposed to shoot her, she's my daughter' Clay yelled at the 3 Nomads that sat at the table in front of him.

"We didn't know she was going to have a gun, she shot first" Greg yelled back defending them

"Her old man is SAMCRO you didn't think she would have a gun? Are you stupid?" He threw the empty glass in his hand across the room

"You almost killed her" he spat at them

"You're the one who sent us there," Frankie said

“too rough her up and rob them, not to fucking shoot her" Clay yelled as he walked away

[computacionalblog]

Nature They Thought It Was a Shooting. The Real Danger Was Mass Panic.

Nature They Thought It Was a Shooting. The Real Danger Was Mass Panic. Nature They Thought It Was a Shooting. The Real Danger Was Mass Panic. http://www.nature-business.com/nature-they-thought-it-was-a-shooting-the-real-danger-was-mass-panic/

Nature

Image

Panic spread through the crowd gathered for the Global Citizen Festival in Central Park on Sept. 29 after people scattering away from a fight stepped on empty water bottles, causing loud popping sounds.CreditCreditAngela Weiss/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

Cardi B had just stepped offstage after performing for thousands in Central Park when a loud pop pierced the air, sounding like a gunshot and igniting fears of a shooting. Backstage, police commanders scrambled to find out what was going on, and quickly determined no shots had been fired. They rushed to the stage to tell the crowd.

“Remain calm,” Assistant Chief Kathleen O’Reilly pleaded into a microphone, saying the sound had been a fence falling over.

But it was too late. Frantic concertgoers ducked and rushed for a limited number of exits. Some people screamed “Shooter!” Barriers and tall fences were toppled. People fell and were trampled. Many fled shoeless. Some police officers even contributed to the pandemonium, telling people to duck and run.

Though no one was seriously injured, the chaos at the Global Citizen Festival on Saturday jolted law enforcement authorities, security experts and policymakers. It has forced an examination of whether the police need new ways of curbing the risk of crowd panic in an era when mass killings have heightened public fear of attacks.

By the next day, police commanders had determined that it had not been a falling barrier that had started the original stampede. It was, instead, a fight between two people near the stage. As concertgoers scattered, they stepped on empty water bottles, causing loud popping sounds.

Once the false reports of a shooting spread, controlling the crowd “was like putting toothpaste back in the tube,” Chief James R. Waters, the police counterterrorism commander, who had been on the stage, said in an interview this week.

The events in Central Park unfolded nearly a year to the day after a gunman killed 58 people at an outdoor country music concert in Las Vegas, the worst shooting in modern American history, and one in a series of mass killings at churches, concerts, newsrooms, nightclubs and schools.

Image

Dozens of concertgoers suffered minor injuries in the onrush of people after popping sounds triggered a scare.CreditEvan Agostini/Invision, via Associated Press

“People subjectively feel like they are in greater danger than ever before,” said Steven Adelman, the vice president of the Event Safety Alliance, a nonprofit trade association.

Police officials have defended their handling of the panic in Central Park, saying the 100 officers at the concert were able to restore order within a few minutes, in part because the department has studied shooting attacks and conducted drills.

But behind the scenes, officials are grappling with what went wrong and are adopting changes that would make events like the annual music festival safer for participants during an emergency.

Those changes include marking the entrances and exits with color-coded lights, installing runway lighting to highlight emergency routes, displaying urgent messages on screens and placing specialized teams of officers in positions high enough for them to oversee the crowd, Chief O’Reilly said on Tuesday.

“Situational awareness will be what we are messaging out next year,” Chief O’Reilly said. “People have to understand where they are.”

The police commissioner, James P. O’Neill, said on Wednesday that the police could have moved faster to get a message out to calm the crowd — not just from the stage, but on social media as well. “I think our first hit on social media was about 12 minutes into it,” he said. “We can do better there.”

Mr. O’Neill said the department would “go back and take a look at what happened and see how we can prevent it in the future.”

In New York, the risk of stampedes is acute in places where crowding is common, like tourism sites and transportation hubs. Last year, Amtrak police officers set off a stampede in Pennsylvania Station when they used a Taser stun gun on a man amid delays on New Jersey Transit. Sixteen people were injured as commuters fled.

The panic in Central Park laid bare the challenges for the police and event organizers to effectively communicate with crowds during a crisis, whether it is to calm people after a false alarm, or to safely and quickly evacuate a jam-packed space. On Saturday, police commanders enlisted Chris Martin, the frontman for the band Coldplay, to get the crowd’s attention and to stress that there was no gunman.

Image

The panic at a Central Park concert came almost exactly a year after a gunman fired into a crowd at an outdoor country music festival in Las Vegas on Oct. 1, killing 58.CreditAlba Vigaray/EPA, via Shutterstock

“When people are scared, one of the first things that shuts down is their hearing,” Chief Waters said. “They get tunnel vision, their focus narrows.”

But in interviews and online posts, dozens of concertgoers laid the blame for the stampede on the festival’s organizers, security guards and the police, whom they said had contributed to the chaos with inaccurate and inadequate information about what had occurred and what the crowd should do.

“Part of the reason there was pandemonium was because the police were telling people to run and duck,” said Maria Benedek, of the East Village. “You would think in our city that people would be prepared for a situation like this.”

Several concertgoers said there were too many barriers on the Great Lawn and not enough signs. Others said the organizers seemed to have no formal evacuation procedure. “People didn’t know where to go,” said Shannon Flynn, 41.

The flood of complaints led to an apology on Sunday from Global Citizen, the event organizer. Andrew Kirk, a spokesman for Global Citizen, a charity that has a goal of ending extreme poverty by 2030, declined to comment on the group’s safety and security plans.

There was a time when loud popping sounds might not have alarmed the concertgoers who gathered on the park’s Great Lawn. But that has changed in the era of deadly mass killings, concertgoers said, and people immediately assumed there had been an attack.

Callers began flooding the city’s emergency hotline with reports of gunfire at the festival at 7:31 p.m., while the crowd of about 15,000 people was waiting for Janet Jackson to perform, the police said. Chief Waters said many of the 911 calls were people who were not at the concert relaying what they had heard from people inside.

Image

The chaos has forced law enforcement officials to examine whether they need new ways of curbing the risk of panic in crowds in an era when mass killings have heightened public fear.CreditEvan Agostini/Invision, via Associated Press

“We saw people run, fall and get trampled; people sitting down got trampled,” said Scott Hernandez, 39, a real estate agent who was standing near the back of the venue. “I heard someone say, ‘It’s a shooter,’ then we heard what sounded like gunshots, but were just other barriers being torn down. It was kind of a chain reaction. It snowballed.”

At least 37 people suffered minor injuries like sprains, cuts and bruises, the Fire Department said.

Gisselle Vazquez, 19, was standing near the front of the stage with two friends and her cousin when she heard popping noises from about 10 feet away that she mistook for fireworks.

The crowd started running. Ms. Vazquez grabbed her cousin’s hand and fled, struggling to keep up. Then someone shouted for them to duck, she said, and people began falling on top of them. She remembered thinking, “I could die right now.”

Allen Devlin, 23, a journalism student at Columbia University, saw the commotion and began recording video at 7:29 p.m. on his cellphone that shows panicked concertgoers running away from the stage in droves as police officers ran toward it. “Why are we running?” one woman said in the video.

Ms. Flynn said she heard someone shout “Shooter! Shooter! Shooter!” and the police telling people to run. So she did. “Nobody knew what was going on,” she said.

The crowd also swept up Gracie and Ellie Shanklin, teenage sisters from Millburn, N.J. They were carried along with it before running into an obstacle: the metal barriers that separated the sections and surrounded the Great Lawn.

“There were so many keeping us in the festival,” Gracie, 16, said. “It was dark, too. That didn’t help.”

Image

The police enlisted the singer Chris Martin, far left, to get the crowd’s attention and stress there was no gunman.CreditAngela Weiss/Agence France-Presse — Getty Images

The chaos lasted for nearly two full minutes on Mr. Devlin’s video before Chief O’Reilly took the microphone.

“We’ve got to get these barriers open, guys; there are people getting crushed,” she told the crowd. “Go east, or west, or backward. There’s no way for you to move to the front.”

Katherine Lee, of Astoria, Queens, and her fiancé were sitting with their shoes off on a blanket near the edge of the lawn. They tried to stand, but the rushing crowd was too close and the couple were trampled. Ms. Lee’s head hit the ground as people walked over her, she said, and her fiancé, who was also knocked down, watched helplessly in horror.

“It was the most terrifying part of the experience — feeling bodies hitting me and being walked on,” she said.

They finally escaped the park with other concertgoers after climbing over an eight-foot-tall fence. Ms. Lee sprained an ankle.

By 7:39 p.m., the police had ruled out gunshots and were ready to restart the show, Chief Waters said, but a problem with electrical power prolonged the interruption. “Our thought process was, the quicker I can get Janet on stage playing music, the quicker we get back to normalcy,” he said.

Chief Waters recalled telling the organizers that the show must go on. “Anything short of that would be, A, failure or B, surrender,” he said. “That’s not what the people came to see. That’s not what the performers came to do.”

At 8:28 p.m., the Twitter account linked to the Police Department’s public information office shared a photo of people waiting for the last performances. By then, most concertgoers had left the park and did not return or were not allowed back in.

Mr. Devlin remained at the concert with his friends until a Canadian singer, The Weeknd, closed the show at 10:30 p.m. The police presence had surged, he said, and scores of officers patrolled the entrances while paramedics removed people on stretchers.

“It never really returned to normal,” he said.

Luis Ferré-Sadurní and Jan Ransom contributed reporting. Susan C. Beachy contributed research.

Follow Ashley Southall and Ali Winston on Twitter: @AshleyAtTimes and @awinston

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Noise Wasn’t Gunfire, but Crowd’s Panic Was Real, and Dangerous

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Nature They Thought It Was a Shooting. The Real Danger Was Mass Panic., in 2018-10-04 10:41:13