#dead mouch

[deluweil]

Fire family teasing Mouch is one of my favorite moments of S6 - 6x01

Mouch returns, I love that one kiss on the cheek from Sylvie, and he stops protesting the nickname dead Mouch.

Also, I love Herrmann and Mouch's friendship. They're like the older version of Casey and Severide without the burden of leadership. ❤️

[gwladsas]

[winchesterszvonecek]

My Top 5 Chicago Fire Characters

#1: Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek

2012-2019

#2: Randy ‘Mouch’ McHolland

2012-

#3: Violet Mikami

2020-

#4: Darren Ritter

2018-

#5: Evan Hawkins

2021-2023

[elliegoestodownton]

Oooh! Trudy really likes Mouch in fire cop mode. They're too cute.

Seriously though they should do a half-hour comedy spin-off with Mouch opening a PI firm once he retires.

[uptondixon]

"You can hear it in the silence" - Sam Carver x Intelligence Officer!Reader

I noticed there's a surprisingly small amount of Sam Carver fanfics out here so this was born!

Reader is an officer from the Intelligence unit, she and Carver have been dating in secret for a couple of months. After a tough call involving both Truck and Intelligence, Carver can't help but demonstrate his love for you.

One robbery in progress, a bomb, and a bunch of civilians hurt. That is not how anyone imagined a Sunday morning to go. 

After the mess was contained, two out of four offenders were dead after a shooting with CPD. The other two, however, disappeared among the crowd of civilians. Paramedics were handling the wounded in triage while the firefighters were dealing with the remains of the explosion. 

“Y/n?” Voight said, calling your attention to him. “What about the guard you talked with?”

“He seemed nervous Sarge, even scared, and it wasn’t because of the robbery,” you said, checking the information you wrote about the guard. “The story he told, it looked rehearsed to me.”

Voight nodded, “Okay, you talk to him again and see if you can get more info, meanwhile Kev and Adam can search his proprieties so we can try and make a connection—”

“Y/n!” a shout was heard from a distance, directing your attention towards the sound.

Sam’s figure came into view. He was dressed with his coat and helmet, his face carrying a mix of worry and relief. You couldn’t help but leave a small gasp, your face morphing into pure and genuine surprise.

“Carver! I—” you started but the words vanished when he hugged you. Your arms wrapped around him, instinctively hugging him back. The embrace was so strong it lifted you a little off the ground, making you smile.

“Sam,” you said, a smile still on your face. Breaking the hug was hard since he was holding you so tight, but he started to let go when you said his name. Your feet met the ground again. 

“I saw you in the middle of the shooting, I thought you were going to be shot!” Carver said, his hands holding yours. 

“I'm fine, I ducked in time,” you smiled at him again, trying to soothe his worries. “We all did,” you looked at your team behind you, Sam’s eyes following yours.

He suddenly went quiet, his eyes staring at your intertwined hands. Realization hit him that you two were in public. 

You smiled at him sheepishly, arching your eyebrows and holding his hands tighter for reassurance. You knew he was feeling shy, it was so cute the way his eyes shifted back and forth between your eyes and the ground. You were not any different, looking between him and your team. You both sure did not expect your relationship to be out like this, but there was no coming back now. 

Your team held both confused and smiley faces. Hailey and Jay were smiling so big you could count every tooth in their mouth. They have been suspecting about your relationship with said firefighter after catching you messaging him during a boring lookout late at night. Another one who had suspicions was Voight, he heard from Mouch one night over dinner at his and Trudy's house that he saw you and Carver talking at Molly's. On the other hand, Adam, Kim, and Kevin looked absolutely shocked. They appeared to be the only ones who missed any signs about this.

“Is everything okay guys?” Stella's voice brought you back to reality. She was more discreet with her reaction than the others, but you could spot a small smile forming in her mouth.

“Of course, Lieutenant,” Carver said, regaining his composure. “I’ll see you later, yeah?” he smiled that smile you love so much. Staring into his blue eyes, you smiled back. 

“See you around, Y/n,” Stella said, leaving with Carver following behind.

You nodded with a smile, walking back to your team. 

“Don't look at me like that, Adam,” you said pointing a finger at him. Adam was staring at you as if you had grown another head.

“Well forgive my shock, but is that the reason why you rejected all the guys I told you about?”

“Bro, I rejected them because they suck.”

“They do not suck, Y/N, they’re nice guys.”

“Well, would you date them?”

“Enough you two,” Voight said with a ghost of a smile. “Let’s get back to the case.”

After listening to the rest of Voight’s instructions you all left in the direction of the cars.

“Now, I’m your partner, how come I’m one of the last people to know about this?” Kevin said, getting into the passenger seat of your car. 

“Y’all need to share when stuff like this happens!” Kevin said through the window when Jay and Hailey passed beside your car to get to their truck.

All you could do now was laugh and get ready for the teasing coming your way in the next few weeks.

[natti-ice]

Character 🤖 Masterlist.

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Can also find all my characters on my acc @/ nattiice !

If you would like to request a character please feel free to send me an ask with a prompt! Please note that c.🤖 does not allow nsfw. Find all characters I write for here!

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Bridgerton:

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(None yet)

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— free use Kevin Atwater

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[malarkgirlypop]

Come Away With Me (Eugene Roe x F!Reader)

So @footprintsinthesxnd had a 'Saturday Night Live ask' and I asked her what her ideal date was and with what BoB man. No one was surprised when she chose her man Gene! @footprintsinthesxnd has kindly made the most stunning moodboard to go along with the story, so head over to her blog and find the post with the #bobcollab tag!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved. Keep reading

Tag list: @next-autopsy @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike @bucky32557038ww2 @b00ks1ut

Y/N rubbed her lips together staring in the mirror, her finger carefully rubbing away some of the lipstick she had on her lips. She stood back giving her face and hair a once over. She took a deep breath trying to steady her nerves. Why was she so nervous? It was just Gene. 

Y/N had known Gene for years, being next door neighbours and childhood friends they had grown up with each other. They were hardly ever apart. Their bond they shared was everlasting. 

Or so Y/N thought. 

When Gene broke the news he was signing up for the war she broke down immediately. The thought of him going away and maybe never coming back was the most gut wrenching feeling. But Gene said he wanted to make a difference, to help. He didn’t go to kill, he went to heal. There was no stopping him, he was set in his ways. He had always been stubborn. As much as they loved each other they butted heads on occasion. Always an agree to disagree situation, where they accepted they didn’t think the same and moved on. But Y/N loved that about their friendship, they were constantly challenging each other to think broader, to see things in a different light. 

When Gene left they promised to write to each other. There was a flurry of letters back and forward, but they slowly dwindled. Gene didn’t have time and Y/N had started her new job. Y/N wanted to write to him so desperately but didn’t want to burden the man with her ramblings, thinking he would have better things to do. 

Y/N couldn’t believe it when it was announced the war was finally over. Her heart soared, Gene would finally be home. Y/N had waited patiently for her best friend to arrive back. His mother had let Y/N know he was going to be home that week. Everyday Y/N rushed home from work to see if he had returned yet. 

She walked down the street briskly, nearly running. A cab pulled in front of his house. She stopped dead in her tracks, the familiar figure exiting the car. 

“Eugene!” She cried, running down the road. He turned knowing the voice that called him. A small smile tugging at his lips. She charged straight into the man, almost bowling them both over. He enveloped her in his arms, enjoying the familiar scent of her. Y/N hugged him so tightly, ensuring it wasn’t a dream or illusion.

“Ma mouche, gosh have you gotten stronger.” He said hardly able to breathe. She loosened her hold, realising she might have been hurting him. 

“Oh, sorry.” She smiled up at him. “I missed you so much.” She quickly wiped the stray tears from her face. He smiled, but it wasn’t his usual smile. The sparkle she knew, didn’t twinkle in his eyes like it used to. 

“I missed ya too.” He said. They stood staring at each other unsure of what to say. There was so much that Y/N wanted to tell him, so much she wanted to ask. But she couldn’t form the words, not knowing where or how to start. See when Gene had been away Y/N had realised that maybe she loved him, more than what she believed she had. Her mother always teased them that they were in love, and she was just waiting for them to both figure it out. Yes, she loved him as a friend. But there was always something more she wanted, yearned for. They hugged, but she wanted him to hold her longer. They spoke, but she wished she could listen to him speak forever. They loved each other, but she wanted him to love her. They way she loved him. 

“Gene, I know you just got home. But I was wondering if you wanted to spend some time with me, only if you’re free. I’m sure you’re so busy, and everyone probably wants to see you-” Y/N rambled on, trying to hide the blush that rose to her cheeks, since when was it nerve wracking to speak to Gene.

“Of course I would!” Gene cut her off, before she fainted from talking so much without taking a breath.   

Y/N smiled brightly at the man. “What do you want to do?” She asked, he hummed in thought, tapping his finger on his chin. 

“How about a surprise?” Gene grinned, Y/N was shocked, she didn’t expect that answer from him. 

“Are you sure, Gene. I can plan it, you will probably be so busy.” Y/N said worried about burdening her friend. 

“Ma mouche, stop fretting!” He laughed at his friend, he looked at her longer. She was nervous with new people, but they had known each other nearly their whole lives and he had never seen her so flustered. He thought maybe it was because of the distance and time they had spent apart. It was like meeting someone for the first time again. 

“We can make a day of it. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow around eleven, how does that sound?” Y/N looked up at Gene, eyes sparkling full of joy. She nodded excitedly. His mother had rushed out of the house after that, pulling him inside. He only was able to manage a small wave as he was dragged away. 

Y/N sat nervously on the staircase by the front door, she had gotten ready so early. Not being able to sleep a wink at all last night. She was too busy planning. She was going to tell him today, confess her true feelings to Gene. The thought made her stomach flip, so many what if’s flooded her brain. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin what she already had with him. 

Ding dong, Y/N bolted to her feet hearing the familiar chime of the doorbell. She smoothed down her dress and hair, taking a deep breath and opening the door. There on her doorstep stood Gene, in casual clothes, but looking handsome as always. She glanced down at his hands, they thrust out the flowers he held. Y/N looked at him shocked. 

“For me?” She grinned, taking them from him, bringing them up to her nose to sniff. They smelled heavenly. The bouquet had flowers from his mothers garden. His mother had the most magnificent flowerbeds, she giggled imagining Gene stealing the flowers from her garden. Y/N knew well enough that Gene wouldn’t have asked and just taken them without telling her. 

“Hold on, let me go put these in water.” She left him standing on the doorstep, running and putting them in a vase. 

“Shall we go?” She asked, closing the door behind her. He nodded, leading the way. They walked down the road, chatting about life. Gene didn’t bring up the war, making conversation about other things. 

“Where are we going?” Y/N said as Gene stepped off the path and down a small track leading into one of the meadows that was on the outskirts of their street. 

“I told you, ma mouche, it’s all been planned.” He smiled, extending his hand for her to take. She smiled holding his hand as they walked down the dirt path. At this time of month it was late spring, the weather was warmer, but not too hot yet. The flowers all in bloom and new babies of all kinds being born. It was as if life was restarting again, becoming anew.  

Y/N gasped as they approached the clearing. She could see under their favourite tree they used to play under as children, was a picnic blanket. An assortment of food lay on top. It overlooked the meadow that was teeming with wildflowers. 

“Oh Gene!” Y/N covered her mouth, feeling choked up. “This is perfect!” She ran ahead to get a better look at the perfect picnic he had created. 

“Gene!” She squealed, turning around to tackle the man into a hug. He held her back as she held him tightly. “Do you like it?” He asked into her hair.

“Like it! I love it! Gene, you didn’t have to do all this!” She pulled back to look at him, showing her gratitude all over her features.   

“Anything for ma mouche.” She rolled her eyes at the nickname, it means my fly in french. Gene had been calling her ma mouche for years, one day he said it and it stuck. They never discussed between them what he meant by it. Y/N had assumed he called her my fly because she annoyed him but he could never get rid of her. 

“Yes I know, annoying like a fly.” She mumbled. A confused expression appeared on Gene’s face. 

“What?” He asked, trying to figure out what she meant.

“Cause I remind you of a fly, that’s why you call me that.” She smiled at him, it was a funny nickname, he was only teasing. His brows furrowed together. 

“Y/N, no. That’s not what I mean at all. Is that what you thought the whole time?” He seemed upset. She nodded confused at why he was so overcome with concern. 

“Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for you to think that.” He reached out cupping her cheek. 

“Well, what do you mean then?” She asked, tilting her head. 

“Ma mouche, it’s short for my butterfly. Mon papillon.” Y/N looked at him shocked, unable to form words. My butterfly was a lot different than my fly. 

“You have always been my butterfly. So bright and colourful, everything you touch comes to life. You make me want to be a better person.” Gene said holding her face in his hands, his eyes shone with love.

“Gene, what are you saying?” She asked hoping she wasn’t reading into his words.

“I love you.” The words she had been so desperate to hear from him easily fell from his lips. A gentle whisper for only them to hear. Everything stilled and muted. They were in their own bubble. Gene was unsure if Y/N had heard him, she stood so still. 

“You do?” She uttered, overwhelmed with joy. Her heart beat so hard it hurt, she felt like she could burst into tears. “Gene, you love me?” She asked again to confirm she had heard him correctly. 

“I do.” He chuckled, still holding her face in his hands. “Do you love me?” He asked, unsure of what his friend was feeling, was she happy, sad? He couldn’t tell. 

“I love you more than words can say.” Her face broke into a beaming smile. She pulled him into her arms as his hands slipped from her face to hold her close. She pulled back, unable to stop grinning. Gene smiled down at her, relishing in her adoration. He bent down, placing a soft kiss to her lips. The kiss was sweet and tender, but only short as he stepped back. 

But he hadn’t known the fire that he had awoken in his lover. Y/N’s hands flew out catching his face, she pulled him down to her. This time the kiss was more passionate, she kissed him like she would never be able to touch her lips to his again. Gene wrapped his hands around her waist pulling her closer. The kiss was everything that Y/N had dreamed about. Being held in his arms as they tasted each other, like forbidden fruit. Y/N lips parting softly as Gene found his way into her mouth, their tongues swirled together. Their breaths mixed together as they grasped each other with roaming hands. Gene’s lips moved from Y/N’s to her neck, as she tilted her head back. His soft lips pressed harsh kisses along her throat. Y/N stilled his movements when she moved his face back up to her’s. They paused, foreheads pressed together, their breaths fanning each other’s faces, noses slightly touching. Savouring their kiss together. 

“More than words.” Y/N whispered, Gene understood her completely. There were no words to say to express their love, but there were acts, thoughts, touches, that represented it.

Y/N felt so giddy she thought she could faint, as Gene and her sat on the blanket eating the food he had prepared. Fresh fruit, a cheese platter, pastries, freshly baked cookies. Gene had thought of it all. 

“Would you like some chocolate strawberries?” Gene asked, pulling out a punnet of strawberries from the basket. 

“Ah, my favourite! Gene, how did you get these?” She took the box from him, bringing it to her nose to smell the aromatic fruit.       

“I can’t tell you my secrets.” Gene grinned at her, as she pretended to pout. He chuckled, reaching out to tickle Y/N under her neck. She laughed trying to get away from him but he snatched her up quickly, jumping on top of her. She squealed and giggled trying to get away from his onslaught of attacks. 

“Gene, ahh, Gene!” She laughed breathlessly, trying to stop him but he had her pinned down. They laughed together as Gene slowly stopped. Their faces inches apart, a smile pulled to Y/N lips, as she lifted her head to kiss him. Her lips pressed to his gently, letting the feeling linger before laying back down to stare at him. 

“I missed you.” She uttered, feeling tears prick in her eyes. A sadness overwhelmed Y/N, she was unsure of where it had spurred from. But it was a moment of stillness when everything finally crashed down. All of the worry she had in his absence, the realisation that she loved him. Then she had him back in one piece, and then all of today. The confession, the kiss, it had been so much, everything Y/N had hoped for. But it scared her all the same, now she really had something to lose. 

“I missed you so much.” She whispered, as Gene watched her concerned, her tears slipped down her cheeks into her hair. He moved off of Y/N so she could sit up. She moved into his arms, clinging to him desperately. 

“It’s ok ma mouche, I’m here now.” Gene stroked her hair, as she cried into his shoulder. Gene’s stomach knotted, he hated to see her so hurt. He hated being away from her for so long. After a long day on the front lines he would often think of her. He kept all of the letters she sent, and would re-read all of them when he missed her, which was constantly. He couldn’t articulate to her what he had been through during those times, he didn’t want to burden her with those images. He was sure if he told her that she would tell him it wasn’t a burden, and that it was better to share the load than carry it all by himself. But reliving it was just as painful. He was sure with time he would be able to open up slowly. But for now he wanted to focus on them, on being home. The war was over and he wanted to move on from that time, he could do that with Y/N.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbled into his neck, sniffling softly. She sat back wiping the tears from her face. “I’m ruining this.” She shook her head, feeling bad. 

“Hey. I know it’s a lot, I feel it too. But it’s fine we have each other now. You can cry to me anytime.” Gene said, wiping away the stray tears she had missed, an adorable smile on her lips. He leant forward to kiss her again. “I’ll kiss it all better.” She sniffed chuckling. 

“You can tell me anything too Gene.” They sat in silence letting her words settle. They both knew what she meant. He nodded, pulling her close. 

They lay in each other's arms, staring up at the clouds. Y/N laid with her head on his chest and listened to his comforting heartbeat. His steady pulse was strong and firm, she could hear him breathing gently. His hands played with the ends of her hair, twirling them around his fingers in an absent-minded motion. 

“That one looks like a bunny.” She pointed up to the sky to the white fluffy shapes that drifted past. He hummed in agreement, staring up at the twilight sky. Gene felt so fulfilled just being here with Y/N, he couldn’t ask for anything more. He checked his watch, sitting up abruptly, sending Y/N flying onto the blanket. 

“Gene!” She laughed thinking he was playing around. She watched him, he looked nervous. “What’s wrong?” She asked shuffling forward to sit closer to him. 

“We’re late!” He announced, standing up and hastily putting away the picnic. Y/N watched confused. 

“Late? Late for what?” She helped Gene pack away the picnic even though she had no idea why he was in such a hurry. 

“I can’t tell you, it’s a surprise.” He glanced over his shoulder, as she shook her head laughing. 

“Gene!” She whined playfully. 

“Come on, Y/N.” He hurried her, as he grabbed her hand dragging her away. They made their way back to the road, a cab pulled up in front of Gene’s house. 

“A cab? Where are we going now?” Y/N asked as he opened the door for her to get into the car. All Gene did was tap his nose, she rolled her eyes. She knew Gene well enough to know he would never reveal his surprise. 

They sat in the back seat holding hands and chatting quietly, as the scenery flew past. Y/N tried to keep track of where they were but as night fell it was harder to make out their location in the dark. The cab finally pulled to a stop, Gene thanked and paid the man. He helped Y/N out of the car. They stood on the bustling street in town in front of a dance hall, the music from inside spilling onto the street. 

“Are we going dancing?” Y/N asked delightedly. Gene smiled seeing her reaction, taking her by the hand and leading her into the building. The music and chatter filled the hall. People danced and drank as the jazz band played. Y/N watched people swing dance on the dance floor as onlookers clapped and cheered. 

“Shall we?” Gene asked with his hand outstretched. Y/N nodded enthusiastically, taking Gene’s hand, as they made their way to the floor. The song ‘In the Mood’ blasted from the lively band onstage. Gene and Y/N danced together, laughing and smiling. Gene twirled her around, Y/N skirt floating out around her. They danced for hours, stopping occasionally to get a drink and rest before they went out onto the floor again.

They danced the whole night away, the band slowly bringing down the tempo for the remaining few couples who swayed gently to the music.

The familiar melody of Etta James’ ‘At Last’ was played by the band. Gene and Y/N held each other close as they listened to the lyrics being sung. Y/N sighed contentedly. Pulling back to look at Gene. 

“Today has been perfect.” She smiled sweetly at him. Overcome with so much love and joy. Today had been the best day ever, but she knew every day spent with Gene would be even better.

“You’re perfect.” Gene whispered into her ear placing a kiss to her cheek. She blushed furiously, shy from his charming words. 

“I love you.” She kissed him on the lips.  “More than words.” He finished for her.                                       

[justinforprez]

Emil Pagliarulo

So I'm loving the drama on youtube but theres something i haven't seen anyone point out

Emil wrote fallout 3 and then skyrim and then fallout 4 and then did his speech

in his speech he says skyrim is a "mouch more biblical story"

MORE BIBLICAL???

fallout 3 has the main character's father is trying to redeem humanity for their sins (water poisoned from nuclear war) and their son must sacrifice himself to save all people (good and bad) and you rise from the dead three days later

how the flying fuck is skyrim MORE biblical

FO3 is literally just the bible with water in place of sin

im not convinced that emil wrote fo3, skyrim or fo4

im not convinced he has ever written anything

i doubt he can read

he might even be deaf, blind, and retarded too

[sylkiddsey]

Prompt: “I’m not leaving. Ever.”

She’s had so many guns on her in her career. It’s become the normal on the job, but it’s never gone further than a threat. Sure, they’ve been pressed against her head, waved in her face or even gone off near her, but she’s never been shot.

She has always made it out of the situation mostly unscathed with nothing but some more trauma and a few scratches or bruises, but after nearly a decade, her luck has run out.

She always thought it would happen on shift, surrounded by well-trained medical professionals, but it doesn’t.

She’s working a paramedicine shift with Mouch when she’s shot.

It was supposed to be a wellness check. One of their frequent patients hadn’t checked in like they usually did. She’s an older woman with diabetes and a stubborn attitude, but she had always been a consistent caller.

When she hadn’t in days, Sylvie got a little worried. She was afraid Miss Maybelline had some sort of health scare, so she and Mouch showed up.

Sylvie’s biggest worry was that the old woman was dead in her home. The last thing she expected was to come face to face with a gunman upstairs who was clearly robbing the place.

He had pointed the gun and fired before she could even de-escalate the situation. She fell to the egg-shell blue carpet with a thud and then the man ran out.

Now, she knows what it actually feels like to have a bullet lodge itself deep in her abdomen. She’s treated so many of these wounds, listened as her patients screamed and felt deep dark blood seep through her fingers.

It’s the first time that it is her own dark red blood spreading across her white button up and into the carpet.

It hurts. The pain stings and she has newfound respect for the people she’s treated because this sensation is unlike anything she could imagine.

She stares at the popcorn ceiling above, trying to train her breathing to slow. She’s gasping a little and it takes her a second to realize the guy shot her right below the lung.

The wound looks deep, her once white shirt red and it’s lodged in an area that makes it harder to breathe.

She hears heavy footsteps up the stairs and harsh breathing. Mouch is next to her in record time for not being as spry as he was.

“Sylvie, oh my god!” He shouts, moving to grab some towels to hold pressure. It’s what she would do if she wasn’t the one bleeding.

She always thought this was a possibility; getting shot. Her job is risky, and she’s seen too many situations go wrong to not consider it could happen. She’s even thought about it, but she always thought Matt would be there.

He’d be on shift, maybe on the scene and ready to deal with the aftermath. It had been him in the Arnow fire. He had gone straight to her and kept his hand firmly on her shoulder then back. He had been there after the ambulance crash, literally the first face she saw so she always thought he’d be here.

She wishes he was here.

Mouch gets off the phone and she belatedly realizes he called an ambulance. His hand moves consolingly against her head.

She’s glad he’s here though.

“Hang on kiddo. An ambo is on its way. Only a couple minutes out,” he soothes.

She wonders if she’ll know the paramedic.

The pain starts escalating, but she assumes that’s just the shock wearing off. Her adrenaline is gone, and her body is left to feel every drop of blood leave.

“Mmm,” she murmurs, wincing when Mouch holds more pressure. She needs to talk. She would tell her patient to stay calm and alert. “M…Matt.”

She wants him. She wishes he could just appear and hold her hand. She needs her fiancé more than ever right now and he’s not here.

A tear slips down her cheek because God, why can’t he be here right now?

Mouch nods, looking more stressed than she thinks she’s ever seen him. Huh, that can’t be that good. Maybe he’s just having some PTSD from when he was shot a few months ago?

“Don’t worry. I’ll call him soon,” he promises. “Just stay awake, Brett.”

She’s tired now. She’s even more tired than she is on the nights when Julia doesn’t get an hour of sleep.

Oh god. Julia. She has a daughter now.

Sylvie feels the wound with her finger, moving it under the towel and testing her paramedic abilities blind. She doesn’t feel the metal bullet which means it’s pretty deep inside. She’s steadily bleeding, but she’s confident it didn’t hit a major organ. Although, it might’ve nicked the lung based on how difficult it is to take a ful breath.

She’ll probably need surgery. Marcel will have to remove the bullet in an OR and maybe fix any internal bleeding or damage. Worst case scenario, her lung could collapse, and she’d need a chest tube.

The recovery time will be brutal. How is she going to carry Julia around or hop up for late night feedings? What about the wedding? They’re getting married in a little more than two months. Will she be up and walking by then?

She’s so caught up in all the possibilities that she completely misses the sirens in the distance or the ambulance’s screechy brakes. Next thing she knows, two unrecognizable paramedics are at her side, barking orders and discussing things she understands a little too well.

Mouch’s rough hand slips out of her grasp and the room tilts a little. He’s standing by her head, phone pressed to his ear as he stares at her worriedly.

“They’re loading her up in an ambulance now. Meet us at Med,” Mouch explains. “I know. Yeah. I got her, alright? You just meet us there, Casey.”

Matt. He’s on his way.

Sylvie’s whole world moves once again as she’s loaded onto a backboard. She feels nauseous and dizzy, but she’s still experiencing every stabbing, aching and burning sensation in her abdomen.

Time is a funny thing when you’re shot. One minute she’s looking at the framed family photos on the wall as they descend down the staircase, wondering where Miss Maybelline is and the next, she’s wincing at how freaking bright the ambulance lights are.

She makes a mental note to talk to headquarters about investing in dimmer lights because is this really what her patients have to deal with?

“How you doin, Hun?” Mouch asks, smoothing down her sweaty hair. He’s always been like a father to her and if she can’t have Matt by her side, Mouch is a great alternative.

She’s in so much pain and she’s very, very tired. She wants to close her eyes and just wake up in a warm hospital room with Matt at her bedside, but she knows how important it is to stay conscious as long as possible.

She fights the sleepiness, whimpering as the unfamiliar PIC (she assumes he’s the PIC since he seems pushier than his partner) packs her wound with gauze.

At some point, someone has unbuttoned her shirt so she’s just in her bra and blue slacks.

“Been better,” she murmurs, answering Mouch’s question later than she intended. Her brain is having a hard time processing anything at the moment.

“Yeah. It’s no fun, huh?” He teases, trying to break the tension with levity.

The whole ambulance is tense which tells her a lot. She knows what that means. Her condition is serious.

Right. Mouch had been shot almost six months ago. He had been the one that gave everyone quite the scare. If she wasn’t so weak, she’d make a joke about how 51 attracts bullets.

“Brett, how you doin?” The PIC asks. He looks younger than her with a head of curly blonde hair and a real surfer dude look to him. He clearly knows who she is.

“Alive,” she whispers, wheezing a little after each word. Yeah, something is definitely wrong with her lung. “Keep me that way.”

Mouch and surfer dude PIC share an intense look. She knows that one too.

God, she just wants Matt. Maybe if she closes her eyes now, it’ll make time pass and he’ll be here?

She allows them to flutter shut, listening as Mouch tries to keep her alert and the PIC tells the driver to speed up because they are losing her.

She wonders how many times she’s said those words thinking her patient couldn’t hear when they actually could.

It’s not comforting, and she makes another mental note to avoid that phrase in the future while on a call.

She’s drifting closer and closer to complete darkness when everything jolts. She hears distinct brakes, opening doors, squeaky wheels and frantic footsteps.

When she opens them again, she’s being wheeled into Med. Black scrubs are at her side in an instant, probably belonging to Marcel. Mouch is somewhere behind her head because she can still hear his ragged breathing.

Her breathing is quickening too, and she feels like the air is thinning.

“Sylvie!”

She hears Matt’s voice a half a second before his hand latches around hers. He must’ve either beat them here or just arrived because his timing is impeccable.

His blue eyes are wide like they were when she stumbled out of the ambulance a few years ago.

“Oh god,” he mutters, eyes landing on her bloody naked torso. She swears he goes a little pale or maybe it’s just her vision.

Seeing his face is the thing that breaks her composure. She’s been pretty calm for having a bullet inside her, but now that he’s right by her side with a tight grip on her hand and the other on her head, the damn breaks.

Tears flow down her face, pooling in her ears and all she wants is him not to go, but she knows he will once they finish wheeling her into an exam room.

“Matt,” she murmurs, but it’s muffled by the pesky oxygen mask. She wants to take it off and kiss him, but she knows he won’t let her.

They by-pass the exam curtains and the nurse pushing the gurney who took over for the PIC directs her towards the bank of elevators.

Matt asks the question she’s thinking, looking to the doctor. “What are you doing?”

“Taking her straight to the OR,” Marcel hurriedly says, smacking an elevator button over and over. “She has a ticking time bomb in her lung. It collapses, we are in trouble.”

Geez, he doesn’t believe in sugar coating anything, she thinks.

“I’m coming with you,” Matt says, using the Captain voice she’s so obsessed with. Gallo would absolutely start shaking in his turnout pants right now.

“You can come as far as the OR doors, but then you have to stay put,” Marcel replies.

She really doesn’t want to let go of his hand. She’s scared which is the first time she’s acknowledged that feeling. She always tries to remain strong, but she’s terrified.

She’s shoved in a confined elevator. One of the nurses hits the fourth-floor button, and Matt edges closer, running his fingers through her hair.

“Hey, I’m right here. You’re going to be fine,” he promises which eases her nervousness just a little. She knows he can’t know that, but just hearing his words help. “You’re doing so good, baby. Stay with me.”

She briefly wonders where he was when Mouch called. He’s in her favorite red t-shirt of his and jeans so she imagines he might’ve been home with Julia or possibly at a construction job. She can’t remember what he told her over breakfast when she thought it was just a normal day.

Who is with their daughter?

The elevator doors slide open and once again, she’s jolted and sped down a hallway. She can see the big swinging doors which represent the spot she knows she has to let go.

Marcel stops first, informing them he’s going to scrub in and then the nurses will wheel her back.

It gives her a little more time with Matt before he has to leave.

“I love you,” he says, eyes glistening with tears, and she really feels bad for doing this to him. He lost a fiancé already and they’ve had that conversation before. “I love you so much and I’ll be waiting right here for you, okay? I’ll be right by your side when you wake up.”

She nods, struggling more and more to breathe, but she ignores it so she can memorize every detail on his very handsome face in case it’s the last time.

She hopes it’s not the last time.

“We have to take her,” the female nurse informs Matt, holding a hand against his shoulder.

What if that nurse makes a move on her fiancé if she dies?

Matt nods and leans down and kisses her forehead and cheek. “I’ll be with you before you know it.”

She nods slowly, head bobbing against the gurney.

She doesn’t know if she blacks out before or after she’s whisked through the doors. All she knows is his face is the last thing she really remembers before she couldn’t breathe and then everything went dark.

:::

The first thing she clocks when she comes to is that she’s not intubated. It’s a really good sign. Her throat, however, does feel scratchy and dry.

She can tell she’s pumped full of meds because she can barely feel any pain and if anything, she’s more nauseous than achy.

She’s so accustomed to hospital sounds. She’s always here, transporting patients, but it’s never her in the hospital bed. She listens to her own steady heart monitor and zipping curtains.

She has no idea what happened after they got to the OR. How long has she been out? How bad was the damage?

“Sylvie?”

She must’ve twitched or made some sort of sound because Matt’s grip tightens around her hand.

She forces her eyes open, blinking a couple times to adjust to how freaking bright they keep hospital rooms.

“Hey, there’s my girl,” Matt greets.

He’s still in the same clothes from before although now they are a little disheveled. His hair is a little messier and he looks older. It’s funny, she knows they have an age gap between them, but she never really notices it. He looks way to attractive all the time to remember he’s in his forties.

Everything feels floaty and unreal. She lays her palm against his cheek, his hand instantly covering hers.

Just the feeling of his lips against her wrist sharpens her surroundings. She smiles. “You’re real.”

“Of course, I’m real,” he replies. “Where else would I be?”

He has a point. She knows he’d never leave her side and probably didn’t all night. Depending on how long she’s been out, he might have slept here.

Matt brushes some hair away from her face. “How are you feeling?”

She’s really not feeling much. The hospital standard pains meds work wonders. She wants to personally thank the creator of these magical drugs.

“Like I got shot,” she teases, but the joke absolutely doesn’t land. Matt doesn’t even crack a smile. If anything, he looks completely drained.

She brushes her thumb against his cheek. “What happened after the OR? The last thing I remember is you being there and then…”

She’s missing a huge section of time she can’t remember. Somehow, it feels like she’s only been out five seconds and also five years.

She’s very drugged.

“Your lung collapsed. You stopped breathing before they took you in. The uh…” he clears his throat. “The nurses had to bring you back in the hall and then they took you to surgery.”

Geez, that never crossed her mind when she thought about worst case scenarios.

“My heart stopped?” She asks. “For how long?”

She feels okay. She imagines if she was without oxygen for a while she would know, but her brain is working, albeit a little slowly.

His hand falls, linking their fingers together against the bed. “It felt like forever, but it was probably only a minute or two.”

No wonder he looks so devastated. She must’ve absolutely terrified him. She knows if the roles were reversed, they’d have to restart her heart too.

He adverts his gaze to their joined hands, tracing patterns on her skin. “Anyway, they took you to surgery and were able to remove the bullet.”

Well, that’s a relief. She doesn’t think it would be a good thing if they kept it inside.

“And my lung? I mean, I’m drugged, but breathing is a little harder,” she admits.

Matt meets her stare. “Your lung took a good hit, but Marcel doesn’t seem to think there should be long term damage. They put you on a ventilator for a while to give it time to heal.”

That explains her sore throat. She had a breathing tube in for at least a little bit which brings up a whole new question.

“How long have I been out?” She shifts in the bed and strains her incision. She exhales a sharp breath, and then breathes through the pain.

Her fiancé slides closer, smoothing her hair. “Almost forty-eight hours which is exactly why you need to take things slow. You’ve been through a lot.”

God, that’s so much time. That’s time she could’ve been wrapped up in his arms on the couch or rocking Julia to sleep.

Julia.

She startles a little, mom mode kicking up in full gear. “Julia? Who has her?”

“She’s fine, baby. Cindy has her so she’s probably having a blast with all the Hermann’s. She’s okay,” he assures.

She feels guilty. Their daughter should be with them, but she had to get shot. She’s the reason Julia isn’t with her or Matt right now.

“You should go be with her,” she suggests. “She probably wants her daddy.”

“There’s no way in hell I’m leaving you right now,” he argues, which she anticipated. Yes, Matt loves their daughter more than anything, but he’d never leave her side. “Sylvie, you…God, you scared the hell out of me. I mean, when Mouch called, I was worried but when I saw you…”

She knows and again, she feels incredibly guilty. She never wanted to worry him like this, but she also can’t help that some man shot her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologizes, beckoning him closer so she can give him a kiss. “I’m okay.”

He finally grins a little in response. “That makes one of us.” He grazes the back of his fingers against her cheek. “You can’t do this to me again, okay? No more getting shot.”

She’s not sure that’s a promise either of them can really make, but if it makes him feel better, she’ll comply. “Okay, I’ll try my very best, Matt.”

“Somehow that doesn’t comfort me much,” he replies.

“Now you know how I feel,” she chuckles. “I’ve had to watch you run into fires, dangle from aerials and swing off freaking roofs. It’s no fun.”

“Yeah, but at least I never coded right in front of you. Yes, I’m reckless at times, but my scares have never landed me here.”

That’s not entirely fair. He’s gotten very hurt in the past before they fell in love, before they even met. She’s witnessed a lot of close calls, but she understands she freaked him out.

She’s also really relieved that if one of them ever had to take a bullet, it was her. Yeah, the physical pain hurts like a bitch, but it’s nothing compared to the emotional pain Matt could put her through.

She physically can’t take the thought of something terrible happening to him.

“The TBI begs to differ,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand.

“Yeah, and I’d rather take a beam to the skull than relive the last two days,” he retorts.

“Don’t even think about seeking out falling beams, baby. I need my future husband alive and with as many brain cells as possible.”

He smirks a little. “I need my future wife alive without a bullet hole in her lung. I need her to rest and let her body heal because I’m not doing this again.”

She nods. Of course, she hates the thought of not working, but truthfully, she wants time with Matt, Julia and the boys.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” Matt admits, quietly.

She shakes her head. “Never. I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

She almost died.

Wait.

“Miss Maybelline? Is she alive? Did that guy shoot her too?”

He shakes his head. “No. She’s perfectly fine. Turns out that your patient was on vacation. The police think the shooter knew that which was why he was robbing it.”

That’s a relief. At least she’s alive and well. She hopes he couldn’t steal anything too valuable.

…she’ll also have to replace the carpet.

“They caught the guy?”

His sweet loving gaze instantly hardens, and she can see the anger written all over his face. “Yeah. A patrol cop stopped him from trying to rob another house. That son-of-a-bitch is locked in jail where he’s going to stay the rest of his pathetic life.”

It’s not like she wants to stick up for her shooter, but it’s hard to hate someone she barely remembers. The shooting is pretty much a blur.

“Matt,” she gently scolds.

“No. This isn’t one of those situations where you can tell me to see the good in this guy. He shot you like it was nothing and left you there. He…he almost killed you. Jesus, if Mouch hadn’t been there, you might have…”

She would’ve bled out in that house. Mouch’s quick thinking kept her alive long enough for the ambulance to get there. If she had taken the shift alone, she would’ve died.

They both know that.

“I’m not taking pity on him. I can’t,” he expresses.

“Okay, okay. I know. I’m not either. He…he almost took me away from you,” she whispers, voice breaking.

God, she doesn’t want to cry. It’ll hurt like hell because of the stitches and general soreness.

Her fiancé doesn’t let her finish the sentence. He kisses her quickly. “We’re not going there. You’re alive and with me. That’s all I care about.”

It’s all she cares about too. She nods and reaches to fix his hair which is when she sees her bare finger.

Her ring.

She gasps loudly.

Matt’s eyes widen and he checks her monitor. “What? What’s wrong?”

The shooting is pretty much a blur. Did the robber take her ring off her hand? Could he have pocketed it?

Her fiancé is clearly panicked. “Are you in pain? Having trouble breathing? Talk to me.”

“My ring,” she whispers. “Did…did he take my ring?”

His shoulders visibly relax. “Jesus Sylvie, you can’t do that to me.”

I’m hindsight, it might’ve been a little over dramatic, but she loves her ring. She can’t imagine losing the symbol of Matt’s love. She doesn’t want a different ring. She wants the one he proposed with.

He reaches into his pocket and reveals the diamond in his hand. “They had to take it off for surgery. I knew you’d want it safe, so I held onto it.”

Thank God.

She wiggles her finger. “Will you put it back on?”

He nods, slips it on the right finger and kisses her knuckles. “There. Right back where it belongs.”

It does belong there.

[worst-fictional-places-to-work]

POLL 8:

Huh. Never thought I’d see Roblox games submitted, ill include them none the less :] -Rose

Propaganda below:

Jovial Playground:

“Theres mouches, that like to bite. Theres raw meat and shit. The slushies cost a limb. All the employees have shit wrong with them (Jov keeps being replaced because they keep decaying and rotting, so they have to be thrown into the sewers, Plum has anger issues and is still grieving, Scrith is violent and loves stabbing mouches, and also wont get off her damn tomagotchi to do work, Aubade is still trying so hard to make Jov be able to stay alive, and he keeps having to throw her out, who he sees like his child, and make new Jovs, Lacustrine was a bitch and narcissist, and now they are dead, Eidolon is just generally kinda miserable and lonely, and Illusia-Feread is a bitchy little brat kid.) Oh, and you know, its a kids soft playground, with ballpits and shit, so thats already horrible. But atleast the employees TRY to get along, care about eachother, and help eachother out... mostly.”

Glorp N Go:

“yum zlurpie…. WE HAVE YUM ZLURPIE……….. (i wanna see a place from a media i love get featured :3)”

[fictionalreads]

Chicago Fire Season 12 Episode 9

Mouch

Mouch she seems lowkey stalker-ish. Better not let Trudy know she likes you.

Kathy is flirting Mouch. I know you just want to be nice and do well but she’s a little weird.

AIR FRYERS ARE LIFE CHANGING MOUCH

I told you Kathy had issues Mouch.

Why is Kathy in your house? MOUCH TELL SOMEBODY CAUSE YOU CAN NOT HAVE A STALKER HELL TELL YOUR WIFE

Oh you were trying to tell Trudy. She just didn’t get the hint.

Oh no she got the hint. GO TRUDY I should’ve never doubted your ability to get the hint.

James

Homie relax. Boden’s not gonna just put you on the street. Make and save your money and move when you can.

Oh that’s why you stressing.

James. Where are you?

Of course Boden showed up.

Violet

This paramedic looks familiar.

She also seems….selfish is what we’ll go with.

Lady shut up.

Oh shit Rosie stepped up when needed. Also, I literally just learned her name.

She’s a lot.

Yeah Varver is only into PICs.

Severide

You just wanna play fire cop. You ain’t slick 😏

Oh that’s a body. That’s what you’re smelling.

Um. I don’t like the connotations that rap equals drugs. Especially when rap is predominately black. Do better writers.😒

It ain’t Antoine. I’m rooting for him.

I told y’all the owner was shady.

YEAH ITS ALL GONE MR. OWNER MAN

Oh. Did Wyatt do it? Or his wife?

Nothing improper about the acetone but the equipment

Do I believe her? I don’t know. Cause it’s real easy to blame a dead man.

Severide is just so fucking cool.

Emergencies

Owner seems nice. Call me paranoid but I don’t trust him.

Put the gun down kid.

Why is he holding his head like that?

Miscellaneous

So apparently Rome Flynn is gone for good. I’m feeling some type of way.

Kylie’s here! Oh just as a floater.

RITTER’S BACK!

[imjustwritingg]

Wtf were those season finales. No like seriously

Will resigned but ultimately gets a happy ending with Natalie (see pd writer it’s not that hard to write a character and their relationship with respect and that’s true to their character.) Good for him 🫶

Mouch is dead (who knows if Trudy knows but we all know how the writers are. So she’ll probably just get a text letting her know 😒🥺)

Bre*tsy got engaged and a happy fucking ending (of all people 🤬)

Adam gets shot (should’ve been vo*ght)

Burzek got an ambulance scene (even though upstead could’ve had like 2 last season and 1 in season 7 but whatever 😔😒)

And then the fucking season ends with vo*ght drinking in a bar while Adam’s in the hospital (still should’ve been vo*ght in there)

They only good thing about this season finale (other than it’s over) is that Kev wasn’t the one terribly injured or killed off but then also even that is kind like ehhh… with the ending they gave him

And well I don’t have much to say about Hailey for the simple fact that she’s now getting treated like a side character and not the main character she is. (I seriously need Tracy to free me and herself from this shit show. Like please I’m begging you 🙏😫)

This is the most perfect summary of the shit show that was One Chicago finale night.

[winchesterszvonecek]

Girl Talk - [ Brian ‘Otis’ Zvonecek]

Summary: Otis misinterprets your girl talk with Shay and Dawson requested

Word Count: 2917

Warnings: female!reader, sex references, suggestive tones, mature language

Masterlist | Otis Masterlist

You always were a details girl. You always did like to delve deep in the way you describe things. It's one of the things Otis loved about you.

Your passion for the things you loved. The way you talked so enthusiastically about your favourite movies or TV shows that your eyes would light up and your smile would grow so wide that you got those cute little dimples on your cheeks. The ones Otis always loved to see.

The guys had been quick to discover that once they got you talking about something, it was pretty hard to get you to stop. Whether you'd be spouting useless information that you just happened to have in your head, for example when you started to tell Cruz all about the different ways pennies were made when he'd only asked you if you could break his twenty dollar bill into some smaller change.

Or when you started mumbling to Mouch about the lifespans of different sharks when he happened to flick past the nature channel on the TV. Whatever it may be, whatever topic of conversation that may be going on inside the firehouse, you always seemed to have an opinion.

But when it came to talking about your sex life, well let's just say that you didn't often leave much to the imagination. Or at least, that's what Shay would come to think when she finally asked you how things were going in your relationship with Otis.

"Hey, Y/N, how are things going with you and Otis?" Shay asked as the two of you gave the ambulance a quick scrub before the bells went off. "You've been together for what, like seven months now?"

"I think so... It's coming up to my one year anniversary here so yeah, that sounds about right." You replied as you stripped the sheets from the gurney.

It hadn't felt like a year since you met Otis. Since you joined firehouse fifty-one as their new paramedic in charge after Dawson made the switch to firefighter. In all honesty, it felt as though you'd been here for five years, you managed to fit in so well.

"God, has it only been that long? Feels like I've been here forever." You added, spraying some disinfectant on the gurney before you began to wipe it down. "But things are going great. Really great actually."

"What's really great?" Gabby curiously chipped in as she came into view at the back of the ambulance, leaning her arm against the open door and not at all envying the two of you.

"Y/N's relationship with Otis." Shay teased, making you roll your eyes as you could see the smile on her face even though she had her back to you.

"Oh, yeah?" Gabby smiled, sharing the same scheming look with Shay as she stepped closer to the ambulance, glancing round to make sure none of the guys were nearby before she spoke again. "What's it like... You know, with Otis."

"You mean the sex?" You so bluntly put it, making Shay chuckle softly at your not so subtle attitude.

"Yeah, I mean... Is he any good?" Gabby's hushed voice asked, curiosity getting the better of her as she wanted to know just how Otis had managed to snag himself a girl like you. As no offence to Otis, but you were incredibly out of his league.

"Are you kidding?" You scoffed softly, abandoning your cleaning duties as you shuffled closer to them on the bench. You'd been waiting to hear that exact question for ages now so you could finally spill exactly how much you'd underestimated Otis in his bedroom skills. "Girl, you would not believe the things that man can do."

"Wait, are you serious?" Gabby whispered in disbelief, her eyes as wide as Shay's were as even she was having trouble believing what she was hearing.

"Oh, I'm dead serious." You said, rather seriously. "I mean, I've slept with a few guys in my lifetime but none of them, and I mean none of them even came close to making me feel what Brian does."

"Well, come on girl, spill... I wanna hear everything." Shay encouraged, earning herself a chuckle from Gabby. "What? Just cause I'm gay I don't get to hear?"

"No, no. It's just..." Gabby began, thinking to herself as to what way to phrase this. "I didn't think you'd be interested in hearing about sex involving men."

"I mean I'm not... Ew. Gross. But... This is Otis we're talking about. Sweet, dorky, innocent Otis. So you bet your ass, I wanna hear this." Shay replied, turning her attention back towards you.

"He is far from innocent, I'll tell you that much." You chuckled around a scoff.

The first thing you'd learned about Otis the day the two of you ended up in your bedroom was that he was far from the innocent man you expected him to be. In fact, he was the complete opposite in that once he was comfortable in the situation, he could become an animal when it came to giving you exactly what you wanted.

"Stop, are you serious? Our Otis... The guy who collects Doctor Who legos?" Gabby asked wide eyed.

"Oh yeah." You nodded, smile widening a little more as you knew knowing this information about Otis would make the girls seem impressed when they were around him. Something you knew he needed.

"I mean, he can be wild when he wants to be but at the same time..." You continued, Gabby and Shay's attention 100% focused on you as you all but blew their minds. "...he's so gentle and loving. The way he treats me. The way he looks at me... Making me feel like the only woman in the world... And God, the way he touches me. The way he explores every single inch of my body like he'd never seen it before, like he'd never touched it before? Not to mention the things he can do with his tongue because wow... It would be enough to make any woman desperate, and believe me... Once he's done with all that, I'm practically begging for him to fuck me."

"Is it wrong that I'm turned on right now?" Shay questioned, her tone dead serious which got a good laugh from you and Gabby.

"Maybe just a little." You chuckled, motioning with your fingers as the tip of your thumb touched lightly against your forefinger. "But I don't blame you... I turned myself on a little too. Might have to pull Otis into the showers for a quickie."

"Y/N." Gabby laughed, shaking her head as she ignored the look you fired her way. The one that said she couldn't talk given the amount of times she and Casey made it pretty obvious they were getting it on in the firehouse.

"But seriously though... Did you ever imagine yourself getting together with Otis when you joined?" Shay asked after the laughter died down a little and things settled.

You took a second to think to yourself, completely unaware that Otis had been on his way to find you when he heard Shay ask you that question. It had stopped him dead in his tracks, hidden by the truck as he patiently awaited your answer, his heart pounding in his chest as he had no idea how you'd respond.

Otis knew he wasn't your type, not when your ex had shown up at the firehouse a few months ago trying to get you back, to which you so blatantly told him to get fucked. But even then he knew he was nothing compared to that guy. Your ex was handsome, muscular. His six pack was pretty obvious under his tight tank top, which showed his bulging muscles off in a way that made Otis roll his eyes.

He'd been intimidated the minute the guy stepped foot into the firehouse and said he was your ex. He didn't think you'd ever go for him after that and had it not been for the four shots of tequila Shay made him drink, he'd probably never have asked you out. But you'd said yes. You'd actually agreed to go out with him the day after you told your ex to get lost. The day after you told a man that most women would throw themselves at, to get out of your life.

You'd basically picked him. Otis. The rather short, not so muscular and let's face it, pretty dorky elevator guy. You picked him over a guy who could model for Calvin Klein if he really wanted to. And even though you'd been together for seven months now, he still felt insecure in the relationship.

And when you answered Shay's question, it made the doubt he had in the back of his mind all the more clear as he couldn't help but think you'd finally realised your mistake in agreeing to go out with him.

"Honestly... No." Your answer all but broke Otis's heart as he stood there listening to you, unable to walk away as he needed to hear what else you had to say. "My entire first month here I never even thought twice about him... Never thought I'd ever get together with him as let's face it, he's not exactly my type..."

The rest of your words went unheard by Otis as he finally mustered up the strength to walk away, his eyes stinging with tears he so desperately fought against. He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. He couldn't believe how open you'd been by saying he wasn't your type. Which granted, he knew that, but still, it didn't make it any easier to hear fall from your lips. And in front of Shay and Dawson too? God, he couldn't begin to fathom the embarrassment, not to mention the heartbreak, in which he felt right now.

Had you just been playing him this whole time? Making him think you like him? Making him believe that he was good at sex, good at relationships? Was all of this just some sort of long con to build up his self confidence before knocking it all down? Breaking his heart in the process?

Otis hadn't told you he loved you yet. He'd been planning to, but the timing never seemed right. Never seemed perfect enough for something so important. But now he was glad he hadn't told you, otherwise he'd have just given you more ammunition to use against him in whatever game you appeared to be playing.

God, he felt so stupid now. So pathetic. So debased. He didn't want to believe that you were just tagging him along but at the same time, with your words rattling around inside his mind, he couldn't help it. It was all he could think about from the moment he heard those words slip through the lips in which he loved to kiss. The lips he never thought he'd get to kiss again, at least not until you found him moments later and explained the situation properly. Then he just felt like an idiot.

"Baby?" Your concerned voice reached Otis's ears as you came into view, his red rimmed eyes meeting yours in the mirror as he stood in the bathrooms, gripping the sink with such force you were surprised the metal hadn't sunk beneath his hands.

You stepped closer to him, furrowing your brow at the way his nostrils seemed to flare out of anger, the complete opposite of what you thought he was feeling given the shine of tears you could see in his eyes.

"Brian, what is it?" You asked, placing your hand softly on his shoulder but feeling your heart clench when he so roughly shrugged it off.

"I heard you." He gritted, his jaw tensing more than you'd ever seen it do before as he turned to face you.

"Heard me?" You repeated, puzzled being an understatement as to what you felt right now. "I'm not sure I know what you mean." You folded your arms, watching as he placed his hands on his hips and scoffed softly to himself, looking anywhere but into your eyes. Which made you certain he was pissed as often times he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from yours. 

"I heard you talking... To Dawson and Shay. About us." He spat, a little harsher than he'd have meant to but right now he couldn't help it. He felt embarrassed.

"Okay..." You replied, a little more relaxed than Otis would have liked. You leaned against the sink, crossing your arms across your chest before you carried on. "...and you're mad why? Because I told them about our sex life?"

"What? No." Otis shook his head, not fully taking in what you'd just said. "I'm talking about how you so happily told them I wasn't your type. That you never saw yourself dating me. That you never thought twice about me until I told you I liked you."

The lack of anything on your face only added to Otis's anger and frustration, and when you laughed... When you actually, physically laughed, well that was enough to almost push him over the edge towards calling things between you off entirely.

"Oh, baby." You chuckled, pushing yourself off the sink and stepping towards him. Your fingers walked lightly up his rapidly moving chest, trailing them along his neck before your hand landed on the side of his rather heated face. "I think you misinterpreted what I was saying."

"Did I?" He eyed you, his tone accusatory as he watched you run your tongue over your teeth.

"You did." You nodded, running your thumb soothingly down the edge of his moustache. "I'm guessing you didn't hear the entirety of our girl talk did you?"

"I don't... Girl talk?" Otis repeated, finding himself puzzled now as his mind began to wander.

"That's right... Girl talk." You whispered, leaning up to place a short, yet sweet kiss against his lips. "In which they ask me how our relationship is going... And I tell them. In detail."

"I don't- I'm not..." Otis stammered out, reaching his hand up to scratch nervously at the back of his head.

"You didn't hear the rest of my sentence did you?" You asked softly, Otis shaking his head gently as you ran your thumb down his lips. "Then let me repeat it for you... I said, I never even thought I'd ever get together with you because you weren't exactly my type... But, now that I'm with you. Now that I've fallen in love with you... What my type used to be, doesn't matter anymore. Because there isn't anyone else I'd rather be with than you."

"You- You're in love with me?" Otis whispered, unable to believe what he'd just heard pass your lips. And to think if he'd just waited another thirty seconds then he wouldn't have stupidly sent himself in a downward spiral of meaningless thoughts about your relationship.

"Only madly." You replied, biting gently at your bottom lip before you leaned forward, your lips brushing against his as you spoke. "Kinda hard not to be when you're the best sex I've ever had in my life."

Otis swallowed, and hard too. He couldn't seem to find it in him to reply to what you'd just said, instead the corners of his lips rose a little as he leaned down, brushing his lips lightly over yours before planting them firmly against them. The kiss was hot and heavy, the two of you all but devouring each other. Starving. Hungry. Begging for air yet never wanting to break apart.

Eventually though, the two of you had to pull apart, your lungs desperate for air as you let out quick, ragged breaths. If you hadn't been turned on already, you'd certainly be now after a kiss like that.

"I think you were right." Otis whispered, breathless as he leaned his forehead against yours. "I think I did misinterpret your girl talk."

"Oh really, and what makes you say that?" You teased, pushing yourself closer to him and feeling how he twitched beneath you, stumbling over his words which came out as a groan rather than anything intelligible.

His eyes shut briefly as he took a breath, finding yours staring back at him as he opened them again. You were quick to notice the lack of anger and worry you'd seen previously behind his eyes, having been replaced by a scheming glint, one that was so clearly backed up by the small grin that rose to his face. He leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours before they moved towards your ear.

"Because I can practically feel the heat radiating from between your legs." He whispered, his voice only adding to said heat as the warmth of his breath travelled down your spine and joined that which was pooling between your legs.

"Brian Zvonecek, you better drag me into those showers and fuck me or I swear to God-"

"Oh you'll be swearing alright..." He said deeply into your ear, his fingers digging hard into the flesh of your hips as he all but kept you from falling to the ground. He brushed your hair aside, planting a heated, lingering kiss against the nape of your neck which had you weak at the knees. "Because baby, by the time I'm finished with you... You're going to have one hell of a story to tell during your next girl talk, that much is guaranteed."

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[blackswaneuroparedux]

Jane is an artichoke. There are lots of tasty leaves, a bit of hay, and at the bottom, there's a tender, exquisite heart.

Agnès Varda

Jane Birkin first wrote a letter to celebrated arthouse film maker Agnès Varda in 1985. She had just seen her film, 'Sans Toit ni loi', about a homeless woman who turns up dead. Jane Birkin was moved, or so Agnès Varda guessed when she opened her letter she found it illegible with the scrawling handwriting: « Illisible ! Des pattes de mouche… ». Varda asked Birkin to explain more so that she could understand her better. This is how the two women of cinema met.

A week later, they met again, this time in the Parc de Sceaux in the Hauts-de-Seine. It was a Sunday and Jane Birkin was lamenting: "It's terrible! I'm going to be 40!" Agnès Varda, 57 at the time, realised that it was the perfect time to capture Jane Birkin on film: "It's silly, it's a wonderful age! It's time to paint your portrait!”

And so in 1988, ‘Jane B. Par Agnès V.’ was made.

'Jane B. par Agnès V.' is the portrait of an actress by a film-maker, two women who have become friends but whose functions are quite distinct. One films, the other is filmed. Jane Birkin's face is shown, looked at by Varda, by the camera and therefore by us, but also observed by Birkin herself, like Narcissus. In fact, Agnès Varda paints a succession of tableaux, playing with the notion of the icon, a clichéd word that is used indiscriminately but which, for once, is apt. Jane is the face of the 70s, so Agnès Varda places her alongside a whole host of religious paintings and historical figures against a backdrop of psychedelic rock. She is Joan of Arc as much as Calamity Jane. The portrait is imbued with a warmth, the warmth of the budding friendship between the two women.

Agnès Varda also had this funny way of summing up Birkin: "Jane is beautiful. I'll say it until I die, or until she dies. Like the chance meeting on an editing table of an andro-gin tonic and a modelling clay Eve.”

Agnès Varda was the first to die, on 29 March 2019, aged 90. Jane Birkin now joins her.

RIP Jane Birkin (1946-2023)

[girlinlotsoffandoms]

day eight - presumed dead

notes: welcome to day eight of febwhump. This one’s gonna hurt guys, sorry

TW for plane crash

part two will be posted tomorrow!

read on AO3 or below

“Text me your flight information. Maybe we’ll swing by, pick you up in 81,”

Kelly laughed sarcastically. “Oh, the O’Hare arrivals area is going to love that.”

“Fineeee,” Stella drawled, playfully. “Guess you’ll have to Uber like a normal person.”

“The horror.” Kelly’s laugh was genuine this time. “Just sent my flight info. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

… … …

It had been a quiet day for 51, and Stella hoped it stayed that way. A quiet shift meant she’d get off on time and would get to go home to her husband all the sooner.

Kelly had texted her when he made it through security and he texted her a few hours later that they’d be boarding soon. She’d texted back a “see you soon♥" with a smile on her face. Stella couldn’t wait for her husband to get home. It had been a long two weeks and, while it was significantly better than Kelly’s time in Alabama, it was two weeks too long for Stella. Even with constant texts and daily phone calls, she missed her husband something fierce. 

Violet had caught her smirk. “That Severide? He on his way home?”

“Yeah! ATF caught the guy and Kelly was able to wrap up his part of the case. His flight’s boarding in a few and in…” Stella checked the time on her phone. “Four-ish hours he’ll be back in Chicago.”

That had been two hours and a few calls ago and now they were all in the common room relaxing until dinner was ready. The TV had been playing in the background all day, providing a little ambiance and background noise for the room, but no one was really paying attention to whatever was on the screen. 

At least that was until Gibson looked up from the grill and caught sight of the breaking news story scrolling across the screen. “Whoa Mouch, turn up the volume.”

Mouch grabbed the remote and turned up the volume, seeing the BREAKING NEWS banner flash across the screen. The newscaster's voice filled the room.

“If you’re just tuning in, breaking news out of Kansas after an American Airlines flight crash landed into a field just a few miles west of the Eisenhower National Airport where it was attempting to make an emergency landing. American Airlines flight 3804 was traveling to Chicago from Tucson, Arizona and was halfway through the 4 hour flight when the pilots reported a mechanical engine failure. Emergency services are on the scene but there’s no word on the status of the 240 passengers and 8 crew members who were on board. We will continue to update as more information becomes available.”

The rest of the broadcast faded away as the crew of 51 stared at the TV in shock. 

“Tuscon to Chicago?” Ritter asked quietly. “Is that…?”

Stella scrambled to grab her phone and pull up her text conversation with Kelly. She found the flight information he sent her, then double and triple checked the message as if she hadn’t committed it to memory. Stella swallowed hard and her hands began to shake. “That’s Kelly’s flight.”

  … … …

The next hour seemed impossibly long. As soon as the news broke Boden called Headquarters and stood 51 down. Until they knew more information, none of his firefighters were going to be able to focus on the job.

Stella, Cruz, and a few other members of 51 tried calling Kelly, desperately hoping he’d answer their call. At first, Kelly’s phone would ring but it didn’t take long before his phone started going straight to voicemail.

That was the first time Stella cried.

Another news report had come across the TV. The FAA and NTSB had started their investigations into the crash and emergency crews were still searching for survivors though sadly, none had been found yet.

Pictures and footage from the crash site had made their way onto social media and the images were devastating. Surviving a crash like that would’ve taken a miracle.

And oh how the members of Firehouse 51 were desperately hoping for one.

… … …

It was only half an hour later when they realized their miracle wasn’t coming.

Stella’s phone rang, an unknown number from Texas, and she hesitated for just a moment before she answered. On the other end of the line was a frazzled yet sorrowful American Airlines agent who confirmed everyone’s greatest fear—Kelly’s name was on the flight manifest and his boarding pass had been scanned.

A guttural sob bubbled out of Stella and her phone clattered to the floor below. Brett and Violet immediately wrapped her in a hug.

No one needed her to repeat what the caller had said; Stella’s reaction told them all they needed to know.

Kelly Severide was dead.  

There wasn’t a dry eye in the firehouse. Stella was inconsolable and others weren’t that far behind. None of them could believe what had happened; none of them could believe their friend and teammate, their leader, was dead. 

How were they supposed to get through this? How were they supposed to help Stella through this unimaginable loss? Would they get through it?

No one had any answers.

… … …

It took a while, but Stella’s sobs eventually stopped, her sadness and grief gave way to shock. She sat numbly at the table, surrounded by her team, a steady stream of tears rolling down her cheeks.

Brett had offered her a sedative, something light so she could get some rest, but Stella refused. She didn’t need to sleep—she wouldn’t be able to even if she needed to. She had to stay awake and stay by her phone, just in case.

There was still part of her hoping for that miracle.

There was still part of her that didn’t believe Kelly was dead.

She’d know if he was, she’d feel it.

And she was right.

Her phone rang from it’s spot on the table, another unknown number flashing across her screen. She answered on speakerphone, too emotionally spent to pick up the phone. “Hello?”

A familiar voice flitted through the speaker, instantly energizing everyone in the room. “Stella.”

[justoneofthoseghosts]

You know maybe I can wait until hiatus is over (until whenever that may be with the strike because we support writers in this house) cause she obviously says yes, right? And they ride off into the sunset with their three kids 🤡

Also, what is it about Mouch being the maybe-he’s-going-to-bite-it cliffhanger again? They did it in season 5 already.

EDIT: can’t believe they basically revived this ship from the dead. I’m pretty good at picking endgame ships so idk about you but I love it when I win 🥰