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penvisions · 8 months

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the melting point {chapter 16}

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Baker! Reader (ex EMT! Reader)

Summary: In the aftermath of a rather eventful and terrifying last summer farmer's market, you try to find a semblance of normalcy as best you can. Meanwhile, Frankie is up to something that is beginning to cause you to worry about the burden you've become in your recovery.

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: medical jargon, mild language, emotional monologues, internal monologue, negative feelings, negative thoughts, ptsd symptoms, pining, emotional pining, depressive thoughts, description of pain and injuries, blood, descriptions of post shooting chaos, panic attacks, notions of death, hospital setting, mentions of needles and iv's, mentions of narcotics, use of prescription narcotics, feelings of inadequacy, angst

A/N: um, so it's been four months since i've touched this fic, then i woke up yesterday morning and just began writing like nothing. takes breaks when you need to, don't force things and it'll all work out. please let me know what y'all think!

ao3 link || series masterlist || main masterlist || ko-fi

“C’mon, hang on for me baby, please, don’t-don’t close your eyes.”

“Mantequilla, everything is gonna be okay, I promise, we’re all here for you, please know that everything is going to be okay.”

“We’ve got you, you did so good, you saved my little girl, you did, you saved her.”

“Honey, we all love you so much, please stay strong, I’ll hold your hand the entire way there.”

“Let’s get you turned over, ma’am, c’mon. There we go, you’re doing amazing.”

“Santi, she-she-“

“Papa!! Papa, please help her, I love her! Tio Santi, do something!!”

“Merde, that’s so much blood, Frankie you’ve gotta focus, you’ve gotta calm her down. Get her home safe, to your mother’s, somewhere safe.”

“Will!! They got her, call Morgan! She went missing the second things got crazy.”

“Has anyone seen Benny?”

“They’re transporting her now, rushing her to surgery the second the get there.”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, any donations with the same blood type would be appreciated. Who here is a positive?”

“Sweet girl, please, you’ve got to pull through, I know you can do it. You’re so strong.”

“No response, it’s been how many days now?”

“She’s being rushed into another surgery, she keeps clotting. They can’t figure out why.”

“Fransico Morales? You’re next of kin?”

“No, no, but we’re all she has. Her family is flying out, they’ll be here in a few hours.”

“Taylor, take a moment, it’s…it’s a lot to take in.”

“Daddy, why is tia all tangled in those machines, she’s going to be okay, right?”

“This is my son, he wanted to come and cheer her up because she always did the same for him when he was sick.”

“Please, mi amor, please, you have to make it. I don’t know what I’d do without you.

Fractered memories played over each other, words echoing and bouncing off of each other through the fog that was all you knew. You couldn’t feel anything, all of your senses stripped away, and you were nothing more than a half-conscious mind tunneling in and out of suspended darkness.

Beeping, an even beeping was the only steady thing you could make out. Sense of environment completely gone and sense of awareness slowly trickling in. Your eyes hurt as you slowly blinked them open, the faint lights around you too bright and you clenched them shut with a huff that pulled at your lungs. The stillness of where you were was shattered as the clattering of a chair sounded, followed by a pair of hands tightening around yours that were settled over your middle. A hushed order to go fetch someone and then a deep voice was rumbling close. You turned your head toward the presence hovering close to your left side, drawn to whoever it was.

“Hey, hey, take it easy, sweet girl.”

A grunt sounded from deep in your chest as you tried to open your mouth and respond. Then a gasp when pain reverberated from the same spot. You tried to shift your legs, hips feeling oddly numb but you couldn’t quite feel them. It was as if they were asleep, but… you cracked your eyes open a second time, squinting down the length of the bed you were in. Your legs were there, obvious underneath the thin, knit, scratchy blankets that only a hospital possessed. You tried to shift again, but even your hips didn’t feel like a part of your body. Your eyes flew open completely, tearing up at the brightness of the room.

Shuddering breaths pulled deep hurt, but you tried to shift again and again but there was no movement underneath the blanket. None.

“Okay, alright, querida, please. Take a deep breath, it’s-it’s gonna be okay.” Frankie. It had been Frankie speaking to you, close to you. His hands reached out for your own, where you had pried them from him to try and prop yourself up, wires and tubes pulling, clattering against each other and making your head swim. “The doctors-“

“I know this must be quite a shock, but it’s good that you’re awake!” A white coat, thrown over a modest skirt and blouse, blonde hair. A kind face, pinched. A furrowed brow. Bad news on the tip of her tongue.

You tried to speak, demand why you couldn’t feel anything below your waist. But you could only croak out the faintest notions of words. Everything was a blur, the hospital room you were in a mess of blue and white, the beeping of machines hurting your ears. Nothing made any sense, confusion coloring every thought as to how you got here and why.

“Let’s get you some water and food first, your body is pretty weak right now. Can I get a level two meal delivered to room thirteen eighty-nine, please?” She turned to address someone who had been hidden behind her, a nurse in teal scrubs.

“Tell me.” You managed to croak out, eyes fixated on her pinched ones.

“I would really prefer to get you a little acclimated.”

“No.”

Her eyes flickered toward Frankie, as if in a silent plea to get him to calm you down and put you at ease however little he could manage. But you ignored the warm weight of his hand on your shoulder, eyes trained on the doctor in front of you as you tried to find more strength to speak around the dry cotton feel of your mouth, the panging hunger that was present in your stomach, the lack of control over your body.

She sighed, arms holding the clipboard in front her in an imitation of a fig leave over her hips.

“We had you in a medically induced coma for the last two weeks. I’m not sure all of what you remember, the brain is fickle that way, pushing things and events out in response to trauma.” She didn’t look from you as the sound of fast steps approached the door, nor when a large figure moved passed her and came straight to your right side. It was Taylor. Both of the most important men in your life on your sides. He was quiet, but you could see the evidence of tears in the puffiness of his eyes, the lack of a smile on his face as he hovered close.

“You were hit in the sacrum and coccyx region, paralyzing you from the waist down. We performed three surgeries to remove the bullet shards and repair as much of the damage as possible. Your blood flow and reflex reactions have improved but we had no way of knowing if anything truly worked until you woke. A week has passed since we stopped inducing you, we were beginning to think you might not wake up.”

The rest of the conversation was a blur, medical terms floating heavy in the air of the room. Daunting, terrifying, life altering. You didn’t think you could handle another life altering event of this caliber. But it didn’t look like you had to traverse it alone. You teared up once the doctor left the room, offering to come back and talk to you once visiting hours were over, though she had mildly glared at both men as she said it. But knowing them both, they had been alternating staying the night to watch over you past the set hours that allowed for them to be present.

You had two wonderful men who were willing to do anything for you, one with a friend group who would follow his lead and the other who had given you so much already. You hoped it wouldn’t be too much, taking what they were willing to give.

“It’s a lot,” Taylor’s voice broke, his words spoken through eyes glittering with tears. His hands tight around yours as he leaned his forehead against yours, completely in your personal space. “But we’ve done somethin’ like this before and we can do it again. We can do it again.”

You could only nod, throat and voice still weak from weeks of disuse.

He walked closer to the side of the bed, the man’s large build shadowing over you in the dimmer setting of the lights you had requested. The full effect of them too bright for you eyes after being unconscious for so long. You reached out to him, urging him to sit atop it as best he could as you all but threw yourself at him. He let you, aware of Frankie standing close to the other side, eyes watering as he heard the cries that began to bubble up from you.

“I-I-“

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m here. We’re both here.” Taylor murmured, as he wrapped his own arms around you to pull you close. He smelled like your apartment, a mix of faint buttercream and the rose perfume you favored all rolled into one comforting scent. His own masked by the time he had been in town. “Alfred was here too, but he had to be taken back for school. He sat with you every day for that first week and read to you. He was so worried about you, mami. He kept talking with you like he always does, hoping you would wake up and respond.”

Frankie excused himself, his phone beeping in his pocket and the sound of you crying too much for him to handle all at once. You watched him leave the room, his shadow visible through the blinds in the window looking into the room as he paced up and down the hallway just outside. His voice a low murmur as he spoke with whoever had been trying to contact him.

“I didn’t mean to scare him…or you. I’m so sorry, that call – it must’ve been so terrifying.” You hiccupped into his chest, unable to stop the tears and emotions from flowing all at once, overwhelmed and completely at a loss of how to respond to anything at the moment.

Hushed words eradicated any ill thoughts you were having of yourself, comforting in their genuine indication. He assured you he had been able to handle it, that he was able to handle the hard things that came along with being bonded with someone for life, for knowing someone for so long. For having already done something similar before. But yeah, that it had been scary but Frankie had been as detailed and direct as he needed to be, levelheaded in his description of what had happened and what immediately happened afterwards.

Frankie came up to you both as he entered back into the room, a hand on both your shoulders to get your equal attention. You looked up at him with watery eyes, feeling so proud of how everyone was trying to keep it together for you but guilty at the same time since it had been something they had been dealing with for weeks now.

“That was the airline, they need someone to come in and take over a few tours for double pay. I wouldn’t normally turn them down and I will if you need me here. You’re awake now and I want to be here with you.”

“Y-you should go, if you want to, if you need to.” Scratchy words spoken with what little conviction you could muster. He was conflicted, worried about making the wrong decision.

“You need me here.” He didn’t argue so much as read the thoughts in your mind as clearly as if you had displayed for him to see. “You want me here.”

“Yes, but….money is money, Frankie. For your house, for your daughter, for everything. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“I’m gonna run and get a coffee before you head out, I’ll stay the night, okay?” Taylor announced before he pressed a kiss to your temple and stood. Leaving you and Frankie truly alone for the first time since you woke up. You reached out to the man, gripping his open flannel shirt and lightly pulling him toward you. But he didn’t budge, his feet stable on the ground and his back not leaning to meet you. He wasn’t looking quite at you, but just beyond you. His eyes a little distant.

“I’m sorry.” Pulling your hands back to rest in your lap, you began to twiddle your fingers, unsure of what to do, unsure of why he was acting so weird and distant. Maybe he was just exhausted, mentally wiped out from waiting and waiting for you to wake up. Maybe…he was rethinking everything he’s once promised you…

“Hey, no, you don’t have to be sorry.” His eyes caught your own, his hands reaching out to hold your own as he kneeled down to be at your eye level. Emotions you couldn’t read swirling behind them. “I just- It’s just… you’re awake. And I’m so scared I’m going to open my eyes or wake up and you’ll still be unconscious…or passed.”

“I am awake.” You insisted, worried about this being an elaborate dream all the same. Some made up fantasy your brain concocted in its last moments and none of it was real, that you weren’t real anymore.

“I want to stay,” He pleaded with you, desperate for you to understand how hard it is for him to make the decision to leave, to heed the call of an entire week’s worth of pay in just a few days. But he had a plan and he had to stick with it, it would be for the best in the long run.

“C-can you stay tomorrow?”

“Of course, sweet girl. I promise. I just- this is important. For the both of us. I swear.”

“I believe you, Frankie. I love you.” You lifted your intertwined hands and kissed his knuckles. He repeated the words before he shrugged his jacket on and bid you goodnight. He didn’t kiss you back, instead squeezing your hands twice in farewell.

“Hermosa, I-I just-“ Frankie hung his head, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees the next evening.

He had gone home to change and get a little sleep after a hectic two days of back to back tours. A touch restful now that he knew you were awake, but still fleeting. His thoughts had been a jumble as his mind flashed your unconscious form across the backs of his eyelids. Bleeding, hyperventilating, being rushed into emergency surgery not once but three times. Of you completely still save for the slight rise and fall of your chest laid out in the hospital bed. “I don’t want to say the wrong thing or diminish anything but- just thank you.”

“You saved her, at such a great risk to yourself. But you did, you saved my little girl when I couldn’t. I have endless love and admiration for you, querida. Please, I am here for you. I will help you with whatever you need or want. And not just because of this, but…but until you don’t want that anymore. You’ve got me, sweet girl. I promise.”

The conviction in his tone was strong despite the way his words were pushed out with deep breaths, trying to keep his composure. His shoulders were quaking with the effort he was holding back another wave of tears. Too many emotions for him to handle since the second you had rushed in front of that gun aimed at his daughter.

“Come here,” You softly compelled him, trying to shuffle atop the bed. Feeling still numb below the tops of your thighs, only some control over your legs that you were trying not to dissect. Going over your charts and test results had helped a little, compartmentalizing that it was happening to you and mind working to help solve and reason the things you read as if it was a patient of your own. Work. And a lot of it was ahead of you.

Frankie shuffled up and out of his shoes, choosing to urge you forward softly so he could be the one resting against the back of the angled bed. He helped to situate you against his chest, his arms coming around you in a warm embrace, the smell of his cologne and body wash puffing up and surrounding you in a comforting way. He pressed kisses to the crown of your head, nose shuffling in your hair and making you sigh out at the human contact.

“I would do it again, in a heartbeat. Even knowing what would happen.”

“Te amo. Te tango mucho amor ti, querida.” He whispered hoarsely in your ear, sending shivers down your spine. All you could do was repeat the words to him, meaning them with everything in your very being. Bringing his hands up to rest over your heart, palms flat over your chest, you both just laid there soaking up each other’s company.

His thoughts took over as you felt your breathing even, reaching over to silence the television that had been playing quietly in the corner where it was installed high on the wall.

‘Everything was so loud, a cacophony of too sharp frequencies grating on his ears as he watched the way your body fell to the ground. The man with the gun fleeing from the scene as soon as the gun had fired, steps heavy as he ran as fast as he could. Pope taking off immediately after him, his own gun pulled from the holster attached to his belt. Permission to carry it around off the clock from one of the local military bases where he worked as a freelance advisor.

Frankie was rushing too, toward you. Toward his daughter. Toward you both. There was a pool of blood forming beneath you, having twisted yourself to prevent from falling on top of Alexia’s smaller frame. She was kneeling beside you, tears running down her cheeks as you reached up to cup her face. A pinched expression on your features and blood blooming dark low on your front. His little girl turned to him as he crashed to his knees behind her and brought her in a crushing embrace to his chest, hearing the hum of the crowd that had begun to form all around.

Shouts to call 911 and responses that more than one person was already speaking with officers, telling them of what had just happened.

She begged him to help you.

She begged him to save you.

Shouting at him in her small voice that she loved you and she knew he loved you too.

She buried her face in his chest as he leaned forward to try and get your eyes to focus on him, but you were barely able to keep them open. Lashes fluttering as your breath became labored. He was speaking, words falling from him as he fell back on years of training. Pinging questions off one after the other, getting no response from you for even one. Unresponsive in the worst way, body completely laid out before him and eyes now completely closed. You could’ve been sleeping, as you were still for a fleeting moment.

But then you started to convulse, body fighting against the bullets that had landed deep in your body. He tried to tilt your head toward him, to avoid you biting on your tongue or choking on your own breath.

A new set of hands was taking over, gently ushering him away as paramedics appeared on the scene.

He could only hold tight to his sobbing daughter as he watched the two technicians tend to you. Your chest ceasing heaving at an alarming rate, your breath almost rattling as your lungs desperately tried to keep working.

Blinking rapidly, Frankie focused his eyes on his hands curled over the controls in front of him. He was flying, the landscape of the city and surrounding greenery, the ocean all laid out before him. He was okay, you were okay. Alexia was okay.

He was at work. He was okay.

His fingers twitched at the clueless ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ of the tourists clamoring for views outside the windows. Their voices coming in clear through the headsets they wore to match his own. Completely in their own world and no problems plaguing them. Carefree.

He was at work. He wasn’t okay.

He should’ve stayed with you.

He should’ve turned down the offer.

But he had run at the first opportunity. Unable to stop the events from replaying in his mind on a loop.

Preventing him from sleeping, preventing him from being able to look at you half the time. Seeing you as you had looked right after the attack, seeing you as they rushed you onto the ambulance, seeing you as your chest went completely still once loaded up. The way your body didn’t respond to the attempts of resuscitation.

Mind torturing him by projecting you laid out in an open coffin. Copper hair resting around your lifeless frame, beautiful face covered in the wrong shade of makeup, hiding the freckles that dotted your face from him. Forever closed eyelids hiding your bright eyes from him. Black dress hiding your soft skin from his twitching fingers, itching to trace the delicate ink that decorated your skin. A masterpiece taken from him in a cruel twist of fate.

Shaking his head minutely, he shoved the fake notions out of his head and pivoted the helicopter toward the coast. Following and announcing the route for the tour that the people sat behind him had requested.

He was at work and he didn’t think he’d ever be okay again. But he would try for you, because you were awake and waiting for him to return to you.

He pulled his sunglasses from where the frames were hanging from his collar and covered his reddening eyes.’

“Come on, two more steps and we’re home free.” The physical therapist was encouraging in the most grating of ways. Your normally polite and civil personality being shattered by the turn of events your life had taken. It was a lot of work now, but it had been a lot of work to initially discover that you had only minimal feeling and control over your lower half. Hips sore no matter how much medicine was added to your IV, legs numb and unresponsive more often than not.

But that didn’t stop the doctor from putting you on a physical therapy track of two appointments per week. Something you had thought was a lot right off the bat but not wanting to argue. Just as angered by the quick pace as you were determined to stick to it. It was the second week since waking up, discharge looming like a storm over the horizon, visible but not yet tangible.

There had been talk about Taylor renting a home to move into for the duration of your recovery. His son being taken care of by his co-parent back home with school having started. But Frankie had offered up his own home, a flush to his caramel skin as he did so. Not having wanted to ask you to move in under such dire circumstances. But he would be lying if he said the thought of offering you a space in his home hadn’t been on his mind lately.

Taylor had offered to split his time between Frankie’s and the apartment above the shop. An outpouring of love from the community delivered to the shop and hospital in overwhelmingly equal parts. Baskets of treats, flowers, cards, vouchers for services from all around the city and local vendors. Everything was being toted back between the two spaces that were now yours.

Lex indulging in the treats as she sat with you in the afternoons after school. Homework laid out before her atop the bed as you helped her with her math and writing. Different people picking her up while Frankie returned to work, determined to put in as many hours before he took two whole weeks off to help you transition to being home once you were discharged.

But right now, you were stood on shaking legs, arms braced heavily on the bars on either side of you as you stood between the set up of the parallel bars. Sweat dripping from your hair thrown up in a haphazard bun, skin sallow from the medication you were on a strict rotation of. You had forgone shoes, insistent that you wanted to be able to feel anything should it come back to you while practicing.

Your arms were shaking, holding up the entirety of your body weight on them, muscles straining and tattoos looking distorted with the flex of them. With a huff, you shifted your hips, right leg lifting slightly and managed to shuffle it about a foot before placing your foot down flat and tipping forward to even your weight with the new stance.

“Alright, you did it!” The nurse was a kindly young man, his arms hovering behind you as he waited for you to tap out. But you sucked in a deep breath and concentrated. Shifting your left foot ahead in the same manner before a spike of pain shot up from the arch of it as you settled it flat on the mat.

“Fuck! Okay, okay, I’m out. That’s all I got.” You wavered, arms shaking and legs beginning to tingle where you could feel them.

“That’s okay, you did good today. Four steps is progress.” The nurse helped you, gathering your form in his arms and lifting to get the pressure off your aching shoulders.

Santi was in the room when you were wheeled back, no sign of Taylor or Frankie. He informed you that they were both taking care of something for you which made you feel a little uneasy that they hadn’t told you themselves the night before that they wouldn’t be in to see you today. The nurse let the man take over with helping you get back into the bed, knowing you’d rather it be someone who you knew handling you for something a little more intimate of a move.

The man’s broad shoulders tensed as he supported your nearly dead weight, completely at a loss of energy from the days activities.

“Did they say where they were going?” You inquired, voice soft as you nuzzled your face into the man’s neck. He smelled so good and you were just in a very physically affectionate mood in wake of not getting any direct attention from Frankie in the way you were too hesitant to ask for.

“Mante, you know I would tell you if I knew, but they were like school boys, shuffling their feet and avoiding eye contact. I’m sure it’s just a surprise for you, don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

You were quiet for a moment, allowing the man to situate your aching legs as best he could and covering you up with the blankets that had been brought from your apartment. He busied himself with getting a take out bag unpacked and placing containers over the collapsable table attached to the bed for you. A cup of coffee that smelled of caramel and foamed milk pressed gently into your reaching hands. He was so diligent, the soft curls of his graying hair falling over his forehead as he focused. When everything was set up, he settled into the chair beside the bed with his own container and began to dig in.

But you were still, only a sip taken from the hot coffee handed to you.

“Santi…”

“What is it, hermosa?” He looked up from his food, utensils loaded up and a bite halfway to his lips. “I get the wrong thing?”

“No,” A small smile offered to him as your heart fluttered in your chest, unsure of how to even broach the concerns that were crashing over you in overwhelming waves. “No, this is great. Thank you.”

The man watched you, eyes scanning your face as you averted your eyes. He let out a quiet sigh and set down his utensils completely, asking you to tell him what was really on your mind.

“Frankie…he, um, he-“ You felt like a complete idiot as your face heated up, tears welling in your eyes unbidden. Foolish question, it was such a foolish thing to be worried about when the man’s words were nothing but reassuring and loving. “Why won’t he kiss me, Santi?”

“Is that what you need right now?”

You warbled out an affirmative. Feeling for all the world like a pathetic lovesick fool even surrounded by everyone who you could possibly need in your life right now, everyone working together to help you in any way possible.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

A shake of your head was all the answer you could muster up.

“He’s probably just trying to respect you, not wanting to put pressure on you to be that way with him if you’re too overwhelmed.” Santi went on to explain that his best friend had trouble with stuff like this, showing his affection and feelings in wake of traumatic events.

That you should try not to worry too much, though he knew that was easier said than done. To not take it personally, but he admitted to knowing that might be hard to do as well, everything so much at the moment. He reminded you that you could reach out to you with anything at any time. He would try his best to be there for you in any way that he could. Even jokingly offering to pepper kisses over your face and approaching you with overly pursed lips until you erupted into a laughing fit at how ridiculous he looked as he loomed closer. He sealed the conversation with a genuine press of his lips to the corner of your mouth, his hands cradling your face in their warmth before he moved back to his seat and ordered you to eat.

Across town, Taylor and Frankie had a similar conversation as a bell dinged above them where it was nestled in the doorway to a shop front. The two men determined to surprise you with something that Frankie had quietly brought up one night following your first rush into emergency surgery. An approval of sorts he had been seeking after was granted instantaneously with a smile and words of encouragement from the only other man he felt like he could share the conversation with at the moment.

“Discharge papers should be processed by end of day, looks like you’ll be spending the night in your own bed.” The doctor offered you a small smile. She had been worried about having you under her care when she found out you were a once trained medical technician, knowing how bad of a patient she was when sick herself. But you had surprised her, not talking over her or voicing opinions on what needed to be done. It had been another week, progress made in physical therapy.

You were able to walk the length of the parallel bars, slowly and with a lot of huffing and puffing. But it cleared you for outpatient treatment. The feeling in your legs was spotty, coming to you mostly in the mornings when you first woke up and at the end of the day after resting for a few hours. Something she was only mildly worried about, muscle atrophy from being unconscious for so long lingering even now.

But she had been confident that the feeling would come back completely, though she was honest when she said she was worried about numbness flaring up.

That’s how you found yourself seated in the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck as he pulled into the drive of his house. He was waiting for the garage to open, in order to make it easier for you to walk straight into the laundry room instead of having to attempt to tackle the stairs to the front door. Everyone would be over tomorrow, to celebrate your release. Giving you a free night to settle in and mentally deal with the shift in environments. Lex would be at her grandparents so Frankie could focus on getting you settled.

“One moment, just…want to get something set up before I help you out, okay?” His earnest gaze widened his beautiful eyes, watching you and making sure you were alright to be left alone for a moment. He was through the door and back in the garage in a matter of minutes, a shy smile aimed at you as he helped you down and got a walked ready for you. It had a cushioned seat in the middle, in case you needed to take any breaks when trying to move about. Something you wanted to argue but didn’t have a good one against.

You felt…weird. Having to rely on him so much, but extremely grateful that he was willing to. You’d seen friendships and relationships fall apart with this much stress and similar situations. Both as a professional and a civilian, as a friend. You only hoped this wouldn’t be one of the last things he did for you before telling you it was too much, that you were too much. Love could only encompass so much before it wasn’t enough to hold two individuals together.

Melancholic and depressive thoughts abundant as you tried to come to terms with what the near future would hold for an unknowable amount of time. There was no timeline with things like this and that’s what worried you the most. What if you had flares of numbness for the rest of your life, what if he began to see you as a burden, as work he had to come back to after doing his shifts at the mechanics and his flying tours. What if all your progress was meaningless and you woke up one day with no feeling at all?

He had hushed you on more than one occasion with soft words, promises he wouldn’t do that. Promises that he was yours, that you were his, that you were in this together. But doubt crept in regardless. Even more so in the realization that he hadn’t wanted to kiss you. He was quick to dodge your advances, placing placating touches of his lips to your hair instead; of pulling you tighter to his body instead. Almost as if he was hesitant to show you affection in that way and it was hard to handle when all you wanted was that type of comfort from the man you loved so completely.

His hands were warm as he supported your weight, but he didn’t shift you down to the ground completely, instead he pulled you flush against him. Your own arms tightened around his neck, feet barely touching the ground as he ducked his head to kiss you fully for the first time since you woke up in that hospital bed. You melted into him even more, welcoming his lips against yours reverently, desperately.

The plush give of them against your own feeling like a true welcome home.

Shifting your hands up into his soft hair, you knocked the cap clear of his head as you parted your lips for him. He held you tight, not risking you putting too much weight on your own feet for even a second as he kissed you again and again, lips meeting yours in a dizzying display of his unfettered affection. Pulling at his curls, you pivoted his head to deepen another kiss, desperate for his touch and his taste. He groaned into your mouth, pulling back slightly to rest his forehead against yours. You opened your eyes slowly, watching the way his face was completely relaxed. The lines of his age smoothed out slightly as he moved to peck one last kiss to your slick lips.

He had set the table up before picking you up, at home during the day as he had received your hopeful text about the paperwork this morning. But he had run inside to pull everything from where it was keeping warm in the oven, lighting twin tapers set in the middle of the dining table. You tried to hide the squeal of surprise as he lifted you up completely, choosing to carry you bridal style over the threshold of the house and through the laundry room and into the kitchen.

“Frankie, you didn’t have to do all this.” You placed a kiss to his cheek as he carefully set you down into a chair, making sure your legs were situated how you wanted them. “I woulda been happy with a fast-food drive thru, you know that.”

“I know, but I wanted to do something special for you.” He moved over to the closest chair, settling down into it with a sigh. He looked nervous, you realized as you took in the dinner had had made before picking you up. One of your favorite dishes filling the kitchen with its tantalizing scent. The boys had snuck in food from time to time, but it had mostly been bland hospital food for a majority of the last three weeks.

Frankie cleared his throat, your eyes lifting from the items on the table and toward him.

In his hands was an emerald velvet box, open to reveal a simple gold band with a sparkling rhombus diamond in the middle.

Your lips parted, a gasp falling from them as your heart stuttered hard in your chest. Hands dropping the utensils you had just picked up clattered to the table and you stared across the table at him. At a complete loss for words as he nervously shifted in his seat and leaned closer toward you to take your hands in his own, the small box set down gently beside your plate. His hands were shaking slightly, his nerves obvious as he bared his soul to you with his next words.

“Sweet girl, I know things are going to be touch and go for a long while,” He took a deep breath, chest pulling the fabric of his shirt taut with the action. His tongue peaked between his lips, a habit you noticed when he had a lot on his mind, and he was trying to sort through everything. “But I don’t want you to worry about anything to do with us, with you and me. You have me, you have me until the moment you decide you don’t anymore. I hope you don’t ever change your mind because I’ve been gone on you since the second you aimed that glare in my direction all those months ago. Will- will you do the honor of marrying me?”

Tears welled up the longer you looked at him, his eyes so wide and open, his voice cradling you with his earnest words. All you could do was nod, voice caught in your throat.

He let out a deep exhale, pulling a giggle from you when he broke out into the widest, goofy smile you had seen on him yet. You mirrored him, lips pulling as you squeezed his hands and leaned forward to rest your forehead against them clasped together.

“Of course I’ll marry you, Fransisco. Of course.” You kissed the tops of his hands, one and then the other before you were pushing yourself up slightly, tentatively placing weight on your legs and surging forward to kiss him.

He only let you get away with one before he was standing from his seat and kneeling in front of you with the box in his hands. He carefully removed the ring from its spot nestled safely inside the velvet cushion and you held out your left hand for him. It took a second for him to place it securely on your ring finger, snug and perfect against your skin. It glittered in the candlelight and you felt a tear run down your cheek.

Frankie’s hands came up to cup your face, his lips connecting with yours as he chuckled breathlessly at having managed to pull out the surprise proposal. At your resounding yes. At the prospect of a concrete future with you.

“I love you so much, thank you for...for everything.”

“I love you too, you dork,” Your laugh sparkled against his parted lips. “I can’t believe you just thanked me for agreeing to marry you.”

“Well, you could’ve said no.”

“Not in a million years.”

previous chapter || next chapter

taglist: @tanzthompson @clevergirl74 @sullyosully @bitchwitch1981 @anoverwhelmingdin @jessthebaker @peppermintfury @for-a-longlongtime

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics

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redhairedwolfwitch · 3 years

Text

One Chicago Women x Reader Prompts

These prompts are amalgamated from pinterest, my brain (I made some tv show references) and tumblr, with a bonus contribution from @talatomaz but anyways the rules: max of two prompts (you can send just one if you don't want to pick two), I need the prompt number and the dialogue. A lot of these prompts can work together well if you take a moment to think, but they are for the One Chicago Women for some x reader fics. Thanks to whoever reads this.

Also, some of the requests give you freedom to a little Grey's Anatomy crossover but I'm only on season 7.

1) “I didn’t come to fight.”

2) “Do you need a hug?” “I don’t want a hug.” “I didn’t ask if you wanted one. I asked if you needed one.”

3) “I heard you talking in your sleep.”

4) “I love you, from the bottom of my heart, but I don’t trust your cooking. Stay out of my kitchen.”

5) “Sorry doesn’t fix everything.”

6) “I’m fine. Stop asking.”

7) “Where did you get those bruises?”

8) “I can’t believe you dragged me into this.”

9) “Stop messing with your IV!”

10) “Since when did you have a tattoo?”

11) “I like you.” “You really shouldn’t.”

12) “Move or be moved.”

13) “Please don’t do this!”

14) “Oh, honey, that joke was terrible.”

15) “Wow, that was adorable.”

16) “You’re in love with them!” “No, I’m not!” “You just agreed to do the one thing you hate, because they asked you to!” “Dammit!”

17) “Your eyes are all red. Have you been crying?”

18) “Do you think you can get up or are you going to continue to use me as your pillow?”

19) “You know what they say about hope, right? Breeds eternal misery.”

20) “Why are you avoiding me?”

21) “It’s three in the morning, why are you calling at three in the morning?”

22) “Why do you only have one shoe? Where’s your other shoe?”

23) “Kiss me you idiot.”

24) “I swear, if you start quoting one of those stupid sitcoms at me because I argued with them, I will steal one sock from each pair you own, over a long period of time, and eventually you will run out of matching socks.”

25) “I need you to pretend to be my date.” “What, why me? Ask someone else!” “No, it has to be you.” “What do you mean it has to be me?”

26) “I think something’s broken.” “Oh yeah, you’ve definitely broken something.” “How can you tell?” “Y/n, I’m looking at the bone right now and it’s definitely not straight.” “Neither am I.” “That’s the meds talking, but I support you.”

27) “Why do you have a baseball bat?” “I thought you were a predator.” “Did you just quote Teen Wolf? Ugh, whatever, I brought takeaway.”

28) “Where did you come from?” “Hell. I’m kidding, I was across the street, but I’m from…”

29) “Have you considered shutting up?”

30) “Wow, you have really pretty eyes.”

31) “I regret nothing.” “Do you even remember what you’re supposed to be regretting?”

32) “Wait you’re related to them? You two are nothing alike!”

33) “Are you glaring at me in the hopes that I will burst into flames?” “I wasn’t glaring…” “They weren’t glaring, they were ogling you.”

34) “Are you seriously leaving without saying goodbye?” “Why would I say goodbye if I was planning on asking you to come with me?”

35) “Why Seattle, of all places? “We’re visiting my sibling, who happens to work at a hospital in Seattle… also I’ve never seen the Space Needle.”

36) “Who’s your alibi?” “Um… your sibling.” “My sibling is your alibi… you’ve got to be kidding me.”

37) “Why do you have a cat? Since when have you had a cat?”

38) “I mean, what are you going to do? Run to the airport and snog them in the terminal before they get on their flight? Oh, I should not have given you that idea.”

39) “What happened to you?” “The universe said fuck you, that’s what happened.”

40) “Oh please, it’s hard to hate me, I’m adorable.”

41) “You’re cute when you’re half asleep, you’re like a dozy kitten, kitten.” “Urf, I’m too tired for your cheesiness.”

42) “You don’t think about how much you miss a person until they’re gone.”

#one chicago x reader #one chicago #chicago fire x reader #chicago pd x reader #chicago med x reader #chicago med #chicago fire #chicago pd

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thefandomlesbian · 4 years

Note

you asked for prompts, so ive got two i guess, if you'd like - hotchreid, with insecure/jealous hotch and/or domestic jemily fluff

Okay, I’ll admit I... kinda missed the mark on this one, but I did try! D:

Read it here on AO3!

...

“All hearts float in their own deep oceans of no light, wetblack and glimmering, their four mouths gulping like fish. Hearts are said to pound: this is to be expected, the heart’s regular struggle against being drowned.” -Margaret Atwood

…

The first time Spencer says it, they're eating dinner together. Chicken mango pilaf over brown rice with chopped vegetables. Aaron is drinking apple juice. Spencer, who laughed at him for drinking apple juice, is drinking water. Aaron remembers these preceding moments with exact clarity, the brief silence that filled the room except for their forks scraping their plates, until...

"I think I'd like for you to choke me."

Aaron, ironically, chokes fairly immediately after this statement. He coughs a chunk of chicken, or is it mango? back into his plate and has inhaled some of the sauce that's now scalding the back of his throat, and he hacks, wondering if rice is going to come out of his nose, which is now streaming, and certainly because he started choking as Spencer spoke, he must've misheard. "You want me to what?" Poke me, toke me, broke me, woke me —

"Choke me."

The pit of Aaron's stomach flips in distress. The fork abruptly begins to tremble in his hand. "I—what?" He puts down the fork quickly to keep from dropping it and disguises his trembling hands by wiping around his mouth with his napkin. "I—Why? What? Who? Where?" He finds it impossible to form a coherent question, so he hopes Spencer will understand something from the noises he just produced and answer it.

Spencer's brows furrow. "You don't look too keen on the idea." Aaron makes another odd sound, something like clearing his throat passed off from choking on his food, and he's grimacing. "I dunno. JJ says she does it with Emily sometimes and it's fun. You know, during sex."

Aaron's whole body tightens up. "Yeah, I got that part." His face and knuckles blanche white. Even his lips lose color.

"I didn't know. You look kind of like I asked you cut my body up and pickle me into jars—"

"JJ told you to do this?"

"Yeah, JJ and Emily—"

"Stop, stop, I don't want to know." Aaron isn't sure of where this all came from, but with those clues, he is very sure he doesn't want to find out. "No."

Spencer frowns, not in an objectionable way, but in a thoughtful way. Clearly this conversation poked a whole bunch of needles into Aaron like bad acupuncture and then rolled him over on that side without taking the needles out. "Could we... Talk about it? You look pretty upset."

"No," Aaron says again. He tries to pick up his fork, but he fumbles with it and is unable to keep a grip on it. He's lost his appetite, anyway. He takes his plate to the kitchen, washes it off, and goes to shower with the door closed, like always—usually so Spencer won't see his upper body, but tonight so Spencer won't see the steam pour out of the room as he turns the water up all the way and scrubs himself until his skin is pink and raw.

Hours later, they're lying together in bed. Spencer drowses in a post-coital haze, his head on Aaron's clothed chest—besides Aaron's shirt, they're both naked. Aaron reads a book, or pretends to, but he hasn't turned a page in three and a half minutes, and Aaron usually reads about two hundred fifty words a minute, which means he's a minute and a half late to turn this page—

"Are you afraid of me?"

"Hm...?" Spencer blinks a few times to shake himself from his sleepy reverie. "What?"

"Do you—Do you think I would ever hurt you?"

"No, of course not. I would never think that." Aaron licks his lips and dog-ears the page (Spencer winces at this but doesn't remark on it) and puts the book to the side. "Are you okay?" Aaron was even more tender than usual tonight, and while ultimately it was for Spencer's benefit, he's concerned about its origins. Aaron has made it pretty clear he doesn't want to talk about the conversation earlier, but Spencer wonders how, exactly, a simple question got him so bent out of shape.

"Do you trust me?" Aaron presses.

"Yeah, of course. You licked my anus, like, ten minutes ago. I trust you not to give us E coli , which is the highest of compliments." Spencer tries to restore some levity to the conversation, since it's clear Aaron won't say what's actually bothering him, and Spencer doesn't particularly like to hold these long conversations completely in the dark.

His attempt doesn't assuage Aaron. "And you trust me not to hurt you? Or put my hands on you, ever?"

Spencer rolls over in his arms to look Aaron in the eyes. "Aaron," he says gently, "I trust you never to let any harm come to me, ever. That's why I asked you to do that." Aaron looks stricken. "You could put your hands on my throat, and I would be the safest man on this wide green earth. Do you think I would ever give that to someone else?" Aaron always knows what's best for him, is always gentle, always sensitive to his needs—he doesn't know where this anxiety came from, but it's not founded in the reality of the Aaron he knows. "You don't have to defend yourself. You don't want to do it. End of conversation." Spencer rubs soothing circles on Aaron's chest.

"I don't want you to think I would ever let anything hurt you."

"I don't think that."

"Even me."

"I don't think that, either." Spencer kisses him. "It's okay. I know better than to try to take sex advice from a couple that involves Emily. She's, like, the opposite of you."

Aaron's interest is piqued. "In what way?" Spencer opens his mouth. "No, wait, never mind, I don't—I don't want to know."

That night, Spencer rests easily, but Aaron squeezes him so tightly around the middle that he has to wiggle more than once to breathe, and very late, long after Aaron thinks he has fallen asleep, he feels Aaron cry silently, face buried between Spencer's shoulder blades.

The next evening, Spencer brews some stew on the stove using the very precise instructions Aaron laid out for him. So far, nothing is on fire, nothing has been blackened into coal, and nothing is melting, so Spencer is achieving expectations. The front door unlocks, and he turns to watch Aaron enter, carrying a boat load of groceries. "Hey, soup's brewing."

"It's stew," Aaron corrects as Spencer takes his bags.

"Yeah, whatever. It's not on fire, is my point."

"I've never been so proud," Aaron deadpans. Spencer kisses his cheek and rolls his eyes and goes to help Aaron put things away in the kitchen. "And, um, I got something—something for you." Aaron's cheeks flush unexpectedly, and Spencer raises his eyebrows in great interest as Aaron holds out a bag to him. "I, uh, I talked to Garcia, and she had some… suggestions."

Spencer wants to ask what kind of suggestions, but inside the bag, he finds a headband with pink cat ears, a pink lacy bralette, and a pink collar with a jingly bell and a small tag—the tag engraved: Spencer .

It's mortifying. It's sweet. It's the most adventurous thing Aaron has ever done (granted, the bar was low). Spencer kisses him hard. "Oh, I love it!"

"Oh, good, I thought maybe Garcia was way off base, but after yesterday, I was afraid to talk to JJ, I don't think I can look either of them in the eye ever again—"

"We could add to the tag property of Aaron Hotchner —"

Aaron shoots him a mild-tempered look. "Don't push your luck."

Spencer fidgets with the bell on the collar. "Say, uh, Garcia didn't say anything to you about, uh... cowboys, did she?"

Aaron frowns. "No, she didn't."

"Or horses, or... Assless chaps?"

"No... No. Should she have?"

"Nope!" Spencer says all too quickly. "Nope, she shouldn't have."

#hotchreid #spencer reid #aaron hotchner #matthew gray gubler #thomas gibson #rotch #heid #spotch #criminal minds #spencer's writing

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orchestrators · 5 years

Text

Homo Computatrum: Continued

He watched as one of his coworkers, Harry, he thought his name was, open the black cabinet. Inside was a series of small black cubes on every shelf. Each cube had a glowing LED light on the edge, each glowing a slightly different shade of green, some even seemed yellow. Each cube was magnetized to the shelf it was on, using the electromagnetic induction to stay awake. The cabinet was a safe place for them to stay warm and fed, at least that was how Declan saw it, and removing one from the shelves always caused their LED to flicker. It must be painful for them, Declan thought, to be taken out of your place of comfort and be forced to work for your survival. He was projecting now, not meaning to put his situation onto the experiences of the little cubes.

“How is it?” Declan asked.

“Specimen twenty-five is functioning normally. Showing signs of slight distress, but other than that it is working fine.” Harry said, without any inflection.

“Bring me a charging pad, that should help it calm down.”

“Yes, doctor.”

Declan slipped the small cube into the charging pad, where for a moment he noticed it’s LED turn a brief shade of orange. Yes, it’s warm there isn’t it, Declan thought. The personnel door behind him slid open, and subject seventeen was escorted into the lab by 3 soldiers. She was frail, and her skin was whiter than everyone else's, how long she must have been here he could not guess. Her hair was brown, or maybe it used to be, the blotches of grey that interrupted the woodland colors made it hard to tell. She wore the same outfit each subject wore, it was a white jumpsuit, no pockets, and holes at each point where Declan would need to work on her. Apart from everything that had seemed so typical about her, there was one thing that stood out. She was smiling. Smiling would probably be the last thing Declan would be doing in her situation, but she seemed happy. Perhaps she was mentally defective, he thought, but if she was then she wouldn't be here. What was that about, he wondered.

She sat on the operating table, and the soldiers took their place in the corner of the room. Not dropping the aim of their weapons for a moment. Declan rotated the operating table, which began to fold itself into a chair around subject seventeen's body. The magnetic clamps locked her ankles and wrists in place, while a large strap furled about her chest. Unlike previous hosts, her breathing was steady, and her eyes didn’t grow wide with panic at being locked into place. What a strange subject. Declan wheeled his chair around to face her and began his procedure.

“I am going to insert these IV tubes into your arm ports here, is that alright?” He asked.

“Ha, I’m sure I have no choice here, but thanks for asking. Go ahead.” She said with an ironic laugh.

“Uh, yes, uh. I guess you're right,” he mumbled. Declan dipped his head, what a foolish thing to ask, what was he thinking. The arm bot began inserting the IV needles for him, his neural link with the machine making it much easier for him not to have to touch subjects. If anything made him uncomfortable, it was physical contact with them, it just made things harder for him.

“Surgery audio log begin recording now,” he said loudly, “Subject seventeen is prepared and-”

“Sarah.”

“Eh, excuse me?” Declan said, looking up at subject seventeen.

“My name, it’s Sarah, not subject seventeen. You never asked but yeah there you go, what's your name by the way?”

Declan paused a moment and looked over at the other doctors at their stations, one of them lifted his hands into a shrug. Another just raised his eyebrows. Nobody seemed prepared.

“Um, my name?”

“Yes, I hardly want to know the names of the people behind the glass, what’s your name doctor?” She asked politely.

“M-Morrissey, I am doctor Morrissey. You can uh, call me Declan if you like.” He said in astonishment. Nobody had asked him his name in over a year, nobody had introduced themselves to him for even longer.

“You don't seem to be very good with people Declan. Sorry if I overstepped.” Sarah said.

“No, no, it's just that, well nobody, uh, there is never,” he paused, trying to figure out what to say, “there is never this much talking involved in the procedure. Usually, subjects have nothing to say.”

“Well, that sounds boring huh? I guess the other volunteers have little to no personality, haha.” She said, giddy for someone in her position. Volunteers? Declan thought.

“I guess so. So you do, if you don't mind me clarifying, you do understand the nature of this experiment? Don't you?” Declan asked, unsure if she was fully aware of her situation.

“Well yeah, we’re trying to merge a human with a semi-conscious AI in an attempt to make it fully aware, granting it life. The merging of human intelligence and AI being the main goal, thus creating a new species.”

“Yes, that is exactly right,” Declan said, still confused by her, “You're, your not, a prisoner are you?”

“No, I’m not, why? Are other people here prisoners?” She asked, looking around her.

In all his time underground, he had not met someone like her. Every subject he had worked on in the experiment was either on death row or someone who had become a prisoner of the foreign conflict who was secured by the military for this very experiment. She wasn’t one of those people. A volunteer? Declan thought again. Where did she even hear about it? And by what means did she volunteer to be part of it all. A message popped up in Declan's smart lenses, it was from the Colonel:

Doctor, do not waste time here today. Proceed with the operation.

Declan looked back and forth, from the message in the corner of his eye to the girl sitting in front of him. Despite her grey streaks, he noticed she was quite young, probably in her 30’s. He shook his head, trying to declutter his mind with all the questions that she had inspired in him. Declan pulled up her medical file in his smart lenses and continued with his audio log.

“Subject, uh, Sarah Kirby, prepped and ready for the procedure to begin. Anesthesiologist, Dr. Richard Berkham, preparing the Bupivacaine for local anesthetic now. Um, you will feel a slight pinch in your neck now, alright?” Declan asked, glancing back to Sarah’s eyes.

“Sounds good, ready when you are.”

“It will take around fifteen minutes for it to work, then we will begin.” He said, unsure of himself.

“Okay, this must be nerve-wracking for you guys huh? Not a single happy face in here. Like that guy over there by the cabinet? He must have like, constipation or something.” Sarah said with a giggle.

It was apparent that the cocktail of drugs being introduced to Sarah’s system were already taking effect, or maybe she was just a silly happy person normally. Declan hadn’t met a happy person in years, so it couldn’t be that. Some time had passed, and she had already made more than one person in the room laugh for the first time that Declan had known any of them. Her bright attitude seemed to be infectious, even making one of the soldiers loosen his grip on his firearm. Declan made himself busy with inserting the small cube into its casing, again imagining it to be more comfortable for it in there. Normally he would begin surgery immediately, but today he didn’t see any issue with doing to the other way around. They were going to be in this small lab for seven hours no matter what order he did things in. And so he began working, and Sarah continued to be chatty with him. Four hours had passed, and she still had so much to say.

“-and so I thought, yno O’Brien, maybe spending so much of your spare time on that Alimo model would have been better spent, I dunno, with Kaiko, Molly or Yoshi? No?”

“The wife's name was Yoshi?” Declan asked, bemused.

“No no, you're not listening at all are you? His wife's name was Kaiko, Yoshi was his kid.” Sarah said, her words sounding a little more slurred.

“Sorry, it’s just a complicated piece of tech I’m working on here, you know the interface that we have been using for the neurons in the brain stem to interact with the specimen wasn’t actually the best way to do it, this new model we came up with last month is the first of its kind. So I just have to take my time and focus on it.” Declan said, leaning in closer to the small cube.

“You must be very proud of the work you’re doing here then, to have such passion the way you do,” Sarah said in a warm tone.

“Passion?” Declan repeated, “I don’t think it’s a passion, Sarah. More so that this work is necessary, it has to be done, and not many people can do it.”

“Don’t be silly, if you didn’t love doing this you wouldn’t be so careful with the Ai in that cube. I saw you handle it the way you did, not many people treat technology like it’s alive.”

“Well, because this piece of technology is alive, in a way, I mean. It’s not fully conscious yet, so its intelligence is currently in its infancy.” He explained.

“So you mean it's just a baby?” Sarah asked.

“A, a what?” Declan paused, confused.

“A baby, you know like a child before it’s running around and playing, a tiny person?”

“Oh, yes yes, of course, a baby um, well in a way eh, you could say that,” Declan said, stumbling over his words again.

Sarah didn’t seem to be any less chatty, even though the localized anesthetic made her neck and jaw numb. Any other patient remained deadly silent throughout, which Declan always thought was best anyway. He had finished linking all the synthetic neurons to the cube and closed the seal around the implant. It was ready for insertion, and it was time for him to begin operating. He rotated the chair around so he could see Sarah’s nape and began pulling her hair out of the way to begin shaving. Each action he took he had preceded by asking if it was okay for him to do it, even though he knew that Sarah had no choice in the matter. Now and again he would glance to the mirrors on the wall, knowing that behind the glass was Sylvester, staring at him disapprovingly. It didn’t phase him as much as he thought it would, after all, this was his patient and his work. His choices to do it the way he wanted were entirely up to him.

The loud buzzing of the hair clippers always made him uncomfortable, but he knew the necessity of the device. He preferred waxing as the ideal form of hair removal, taking the hair out of its follicle entirely would naturally yield better results. But after all, this was only surgery, and he wasn’t a barber. He hesitated for a moment, noticing a small scar on the back of Sarah’s ear. A strange place to have gotten a cut or a burn, unless? He ran his left finger over the back of his ear and felt the small warm piece of ceramic behind his lobe. It was his communication’s link implant, the latest technology for those who could afford it, or those who needed it. Doctors, soldiers, politicians, scientists, all people of necessary status. Was she a billionaire? He thought. Another message came over his vision from the Colonel behind the glass:

Doctor, please continue.

It had been more than a few minutes that he had been staring at her neck and rubbing the back of his ear. He looked about the room, at every set of judgemental eyes resting on his inaction. Now wasn’t the time to be distracted he thought, so he began running the hair clippers over her neck, and she laughed.

“You have a ticklish touch don’t you Declan. Ha, I guess all doctors need that.” She laughed.

“I uh, I try to be delicate with anything, I guess it’s all part of the job. Now, I’m going to mark out the surgical incision sites, begin the implantation. Procedure log, take note, beginning incisions now.”

“Do your thing Declan, I’m hardly gonna stop you,” Sarah said.

Declan used the robot arm above his head to pick up the forceps and scalpel on the tray next to him, they were freshly removed from their sterile packaging and had a satisfying smell. Declan displayed a magnified version of Sarah’s nape on his smart lenses and began moving his hands in sync with the robotic arm, moving the sharp blade into position. But before he could make the first cut, his eyes landed on her scar again, and he longed to ask her why she had it. He rotated his view and saw the same scar mirrored on her other ear, hardly a coincidence. He delinked his right arm from the arm bot, and picked up a towel to wipe his neck, he was sweating again. Not ideal considering the room was quite temperate. He had never hesitated like this in a procedure before, so he exhaled slowly, closed his eyes, and relinked with his arm bot. It was time to get to work, so he made the first cut.

“So you mean to say that she just didn’t like otters?” Declan asked while peeling back another layer of tissue under Sarah’s skull.”

“Well kind of, it was more that she just saw them as a strange housepet, but I think they are ideal. They’re so loving, and they have thumbs for crying out loud, thumbs Declan.”

“I can think of one or two ways they can be devious with having thumbs. Kind of like raccoons, have you ever seen those videos of the little raccoons getting up to mischief?” Declan said, smiling.

“Ha, yeah, I miss those. You think with all the amazing tech you guys have in these places you could bring them back.” Sarah said in a wishful way.

“We can clone them, they just wouldn’t live very long you see,” Declan said.

“See this is where you guys down here need to get your priorities together, the world needs otters and raccoons back, not nano cybernetic humans. Ha”

“Well, remind me to get to work on gene resequencing after we’re done here,” Declan said jokingly.

“No problem, when are we actually going to be done here?” Sarah said, her voice dropping down from its usual bounce.

“We, had another hour remaining, I'll be using the skin cell regenerator to seal the wounds around your new implant, and then inserting your memory core.”

“Alright then. But, before you do, can I ask you something.”

“Belt away, what do you need to know?”

“Do you know what it's going to feel like? How it will work?” Sarah asked, “Will I still be the same person? Or will I be a new person? Will the AI in my mind be me? Or will I be the AI?”

“I, uh,” Declan stammered again, “I, I don't know. Sarah this will be the first time we try this particular way of doing it. We don’t know the exact effects of the merging of two minds yet.”

“But Declan, what about the others, how did it work out for them? Did they change at all?” Sarah asked. Declan looked about him, each person his eyes fell onto were staring at the ground, knowing the answer to the question she had asked. It was an answer he wasn’t ready to give.

“Oh,” Sarah said, “I see, you haven’t had a successful merging yet have you, that's why you’re using the new interface.” She sounded for the first time Solemn.

“Yes, you’re right,” Declan said, unwilling to say more.

“Well then, here's hoping this one works out huh?” She said, bringing back her giddiness, “Okay, but what if, and hear me out okay? What if we brought back goats? Have you ever seen a goat?”

Declan laughed, “Ha, I think I prefer otters.”

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tokikurp · 7 years

Note

Ahhhh you killed me with that last prompt but it was soooo good too! How about UshiSemi and 46 if you don't mind??

_(:3/ It hurt writing that, it really did! BUT I’M HAPPY YOU ENJOYED! THAT’S WHAT I LIKE HEARING \( ᐛ )/

46- “Can I kiss you right now?”

PRAISE THE LORD IT’S LOVE 🙌 !

📬 Send me a prompt, there’s 200 to choose from ❗

4:30AM

[Text sent by Ushijima Wakatoshi]: Eita and I are about to leave for the hospital for his surgery. I will send an update before he goes in.

Ushijima held back a yawn as he pressed the send button to family and friends, he had just woken up half an hour ago and already he could tell it was going to be a long day. Because it was going to be a long day for him, he’s a patient man.

But with Semi having surgery today, he knew is going to grow impatient.

Just over two months (yes months) ago, Semi thought he sprained his knee after landing wrong during practice. He wasn’t in a lot of pain and there was no swelling so Daichi, the head coach and Ushijima all agreed it was best that Semi just rest it for awhile.

It never got better.

So after a month it not getting better, they went to go see an orthopedic to see what was wrong with Semi’s name; by now the setter had missed four games and he was not happy about that. The doctor did a physical exam and asked what happened.

“I landed wrong while I was serving.” Semi explained as the doctor nodded.

“Did anything happen when you landed? Or did you hear anything like a pop?” The doctor asked.

“Um yeah. The moment I landed, I started to see spots? I think Daichi said my blood pressure might have dropped? And I think I did hear a pop when I landed.” Semi responded as he looked to Ushijima, who confirmed with a nod.

“I see, well what I want to do is send you for an x-ray and a MRI scan to see if maybe your knee is bruised. What could have happened is that it popped out of place, but went back into place and it’s just bruised. But I also want to make sure it’s nothing serious like your ACL.” He explained as the two nodded.

So Semi went for the x-ray and the MRI scan a week later. He was late to training because his x-ray was in the morning, but he was excused because of that. (Plus he hasn’t been able to do much since Daichi doesn’t want to risk his knee possibly getting worst, Ushijima agreed). But his MRI was that evening so the captain was able to come with him for the MRI.

“That machine was so damn loud, I could hear it over the music they were playing.” Semi complained as the two walked home, the setter having a slight limp because of the brace he wore.

“I never thought a MRI machine would be loud. I thought they were quiet.” Ushijima responded.

“Yeah I thought so too.”

The results came in two weeks later and they were called in by the orthopedic to come chat about them. On the way there, Semi gripped Ushijima’s hand tight, feeling nervous about what the results could be. Ushijima had to take away the laptop because Semi was doing so much research on what it could possibly be.

“Alright so I have to bring some bad news to you, Ushijima-san.” The orthopedic doctor started as he opened the file. “Your MRI scanned showed that your ACL is torn. Now it didn’t show how torn, but I could tell it was in fact torn.”

The surgery was scheduled for two weeks later and they were busy getting things ready. First informing the national team and getting time off for both Semi and Ushijima (Oikawa having no problem taking on the role of captain for at least two weeks). Second, telling family and friends who were all shocked to hear that Semi would be suddenly having surgery. His grandmother even offering to come stay with them while Semi recovered (They declined it was knee surgery and they didn’t want her to have to be responsible for picking Semi up if he had fallen).

They also prep their home, moving their bedroom from the second story to the first story so Semi wouldn’t have to go up the stairs after surgery. He was going to be on crutches and have a brace on that would make it difficult to go up the stairs. So it only made sense moving their bedroom downstairs until he could make it up the stairs, even if it was one step at a time.

“Arf!” Looking down from his phone, Ushijima was met their his and Semi’s dog, Ace. The captain chuckled as he bent down and scratched behind their shiba inu’s ear.

“Look after the house while Eita and I are at the hospital, Ace. I’m counting on you.”

“Arf!” The dog responded while wagging his tail.

“Come on, I’ll feed your breakfast.” Even though it was four something in the morning, Ace was all excited about food.

“Wakatoshi! Are you ready?” Semi called out as Ushijima set Ace’s bowl down.

“Yes Eita. Are you ready?”

“Yes! Come help me get off this last step.” For the past two months, Semi has had trouble with the stairs, getting Ushijima to help him get off the last step or take the last step.

The captain made his way over to the stairs and offered his hand out to his husband, who took it and slowly stepped down. Hissing just a tad as he put pressure on his knee.

“Got everything?” Semi asked as Ushijima nodded.

“Yes. I’ve sent the text to everyone and Ace has been fed.”

“Alright good. Let’s go, the sooner we can get there, the sooner I can have my knee back.”

Because it was still so early, they had no trouble getting to the hospital. By five-fifteen, they were checked in and in a room. Ushijima sitting by Semi’s side and holding his hand, gently rubbing it as the setter’s vitals were taken. His nurse was none other then Yaku, who chatted with them while writing everything down on the chart.

“Ah shit that burns.” Semi hissed as the nurse pushed the IV needle in.

“Whoops sorry about that but I think I got the vein.” Yaku apologized as he felt one more time for the vein. “Yup got it.”

“Damn Yaku.”

“Eh it happens. Often do you get poked in that arm?” The nurse asked while throwing away the container the needle came in.

“Barley.”

“I would hope so. Alright so the doctor will be in shortly to chat with you before you’re taken back. So hang tight and I’ll be back to check on you.” Yaku responded with a chuckle before heading to check on the other patients.

“Hey, hey, hey good morning!” Came Bokuto’s voice as him and Kuroo snuck into Semi’s room.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” Semi asked as Kuroo came in, handing a cup of coffee over to Ushijima.

“We came to see our favorite setter before he goes in for surgery.” Kuroo answered as he leaned against the wall. “Yaku snuck us in so we could say hello and a good luck to you.”

“Yeah, how you feeling?” Bokuto asked.

“Tired.” Both Ushijima and Semi replied at the same time.

“Couldn’t sleep last night because the surgery was on our minds.”

“Yeah I can image. Surgery is a scary thing.” Kuroo responded while taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah. How long will you be out of training?” Bokuto asked.

“The rest of the season, I believe he’ll be out for six months.” Ushijima responded.

“Yikes. That’s just about going into next season too, huh?” The middle blocker asked as the captain nodded.

“Depending on how he does with therapy, I would say about June maybe?”

“Summer comeback.” Bokuto nodded as Kuroo pushed himself off the wall.

“Alright well we just wanted to come say good luck and we’ll be thinking about you today. Get better tough guy.” He said while patting Semi’s leg.

“Yeah good luck today!”

“Thanks guys for coming.” Semi waved as the two left the room. “Well that was nice of them to come see me before surgery.”

“I agree.”

Next thing they knew, it was time to part ways. They pressed their foreheads against each other and Ushijima kissed Semi’s lips.

“I’ll be right there when you wake up, alright? Don’t worry about anything, you’re in good hands.” The captain responded as Semi nodded.

“I’ll be expecting you to be there when I wake up.” Semi whispered back as his husband nodded.

“Of course. I love you, Eita.”

“I love you too, ‘Toshi.”

“Have a nice nap.”

“I will.” Semi giggled.

For three hours, Ushijima waited and waited for the surgery to be over with. He had gone to get breakfast and half an hour had only passed after he finished. He read the newspaper and the advertisements, which after reading those he started to get responses from the text message he had sent that morning.

[From Shirabu]: Has he gone back yet?

[From Tendou]: HOW’S SEMISEMI DOING?

[From Jin]: How are you holding up?

[From Reon]: Any word yet?

[From Yamagata]: How’s Eita doing?

[From Oikawa]: Ushiwaka-chan! Do you have any updates on Semi-chan?? (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Ushijima responded to them all, informing them that yes Semi has already gone back, but he didn’t know how he was doing. He started to get nervous around the two hour mark, no one had come out to update him on what was going on. He called Semi’s parents to inform them how their son was doing, who both were worried about their son. Grandma Semi was also informed the moment Ushijima hung up since his parents actually had the day off for once!

“Ushijima-san?” A voice called out to him. Having decided to rest his eyes, Ushijima must have fallen asleep because he now was looking at the surgeon.

“Yes? How is Eita doing?” The captain asked as the surgeon sat on the coffee table (which Ushijima thought was another seat to be honest).

“Your husband is doing fine. He’s out of surgery, it was a success. He had a complete tear which is why it took longer then expected. He should be waking up soon if you would like to wait in the room you two were brought into.”

“Yes that would be great. Thank you doctor.” Ushijiam bowed to the surgeon. He walked to the room they were just in that morning and sat down, pulling his phone out to send the update.

[Text sent by Ushijima Wakatoshi]: Eita is out of surgery and I’m currently waiting for him to be brought back to the room.

It was just a ten minute wait when Semi was brought back. Ushijima stood up and bent over the bed, stroking his husband’s face.

“Welcome back, Eita. How are you feeling?” Ushijima asked as Semi looked at him, oh how exhausted he looked! “Tired?”

Semi only nodded as he leaned against Ushijima’s touch. The captain couldn’t help but smile at his tired husband. He looked so out of it as he leaned toward his husband’s touch.

“Mmm…’Toshi.” Semi spoke after half an hour.

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you right now? You promised me a kiss before I went in.” Semi asked. Ushijima blinked, what kissed? How much anesthesia did they give him?

“But of course. A promise is a promise.” Though they didn’t promise a kiss, Ushijima wasn’t going to decline another kiss from his husband. The captained kissed his husband’s lips, who smiled afterwards.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Eita. When we get home, I’ll carry you to bed and you can sleep longer alright?

“Okay.” Semi responded as he leaned his forehead against Ushijima’s. “I like that idea.”

“Me too.”

“Well I’m sure you would like that to happen now, huh?” Yaku asked as he walked into the room with a folder and wheelchair. “He’s ready to be discharged and head home. This folder will explain what to look for incase of an infection and also expect a call from the physical therapist in about two to three weeks.”

Yaku explained as he pulled the IV out of Semi’s arm and applied pressure while Ushijima nodded.

“Do I need to sign any papers?”

“Yes.”

Papers signed and Semi dressed back into his own clothes, Yaku pushed the dazed blond toward the exit while Ushijima went ahead to get the car. The captain picked his husband up and gently set him into the car before thanking Yaku for his work.

“No problem. Call me if you’ve got any questions.”

“I will. Thank you again, Yaku.”

“I’ll come by and check on him after I get off my shift.” Yaku responded Ushijima nodded, getting into the car and driving the two of them back home.

“ARF!” Ace barked as he greeted his humans home.

“Hello Ace. Thank you for keeping the house safe while we were out.” Ushijima thanked as the dog wagged his tail. “Come on, let’s go nap.”

“ARF!” The dog agreed.

Sleep is good.

#Alpaca Ask #love-andpeace #Haikyuu!!#UshiSemi #Haikyuu!! Fanfic #Haikyuu!! Oneshots #Ushijima x Semi #Wakatoshi Ushijima #Semi Eita #Trigger: Surgery #I am so sorry if this doesn't make any sense qwq #it's 3 in the morning #And I have to get up in four hours _(:3/#RIP me #But ACL surgery is not fun and I've been there #So yeahhh #I'm tired #ENJOY!#tokiwriting

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