#jee i wonder what fandom this could possibly be about

[justnerdy15]

What's the Hold Up Here?

fandom: 9-1-1

prompt: @ailesswhumptober hostages

wc: 6049

warnings: violence, sexual harassment, swearing, gender-based slurs

summary: Buck just needed a new debit card. He gets ends up in the middle of a bank robbery instead.

read on AO3 here!

In Buck’s defense, it was supposed to just be a quick errand to the bank to replace his debit card before his shift at the 118. Had he been putting it off for several weeks? Sure, but he had bigger things to worry about than that flimsy piece of plastic. Could he just have had the bank send the replacement to him in the mail? Yes, but that would have taken even longer than his original procrastination.

Did he know that the bank would be taken hostage by a rag-tag group of robbers while he was there? Of course not.

Buck groans softly, scrubbing a hand across his face, and watches from his spot on the floor as one of the robbers paces anxiously back and forth in the center of the room, muttering into a cellphone. The other two are behind the counter cracking open the registers while shooting the breeze with each other.

He doesn’t know what’s worse: the fact that this is even happening or that it was done by the most unprofessional criminals he’s ever seen.

There’s a sniffle from the woman beside him and Buck looks over at her. It’s a young woman, probably still in college, who’s wiping tears away from her face, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Buck angels his body a little bit so he’s facing her a bit more and ducks his head down. “Hey,” he said softly, catching her gaze, “You doing alright?” It’s a dumb question, he knows, but it does manage to her to give a watery smile.

“Could be better,” she says weakly, rubbing at her nose. “But at least no one’s hurt.”

Buck makes a noise of agreement, glancing around the lobby where little clusters of people are scattered around, scared but unharmed. “True,” he replies agreeably, giving her a small smile. “Hopefully this will be over soon.”

Some time ago, the loud wails of sirens and screeching car tires had signaled to all of them that the police had finally shown up much to their relief — and the robbers’ displeasure. The robber in the middle the lobby has been on phone with them since and clearly it’s not going —

“Don’t tell me you can’t do it!” the robber yells suddenly, startling Buck and the others, gesturing wildly with a gun in his hand.

— well.

Buck wonders who’s on the other end of the phone. He almost hopes it’s Athena.

“What do you think he’s asking for?” the woman asks, nudging Buck with her elbow.

“I don’t know.” He looks over at her with a dry look. “Maybe they didn’t plan their great escape.”

That gets a chuckle out of her. “Yeah, they don’t seem like the Dillinger type.”

“Who’s that?”

“Big time criminal during the Great Depression. Robbed like 20 banks and police stations.”

Buck looks back at their captors. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Hey!” one of them at the counter yells. “Why are you two talking?”

Her eyes widen, face paling, and Buck curses silently. Everyone needs to stay calm.

He holds his hands up in apology. “I’m sorry,” he says, dragging their attention to him. “It was my fault.”

The man snorts. “Oh, I bet it was. Keep your fucking mouth shut or I’ll come over there and do it for you.”

Buck feels the subtle flinch from his neighbor and bites his tongue, holding back a retort. Instead, he nods, hating every second of it, before looking down at the ground.

Without looking up, he taps his shoulder against the woman’s and hopes it provides some reassurance, an affirmation that she isn’t alone.

He tries to think of other things to distract him the absolute cluster he’s found himself in. Like the dinner he had with Maddie and Chim last night, getting to play with Jee-Yun in her newly redecorated bedroom. Or the plans he has with Eddie this weekend, taking Chris to one of the new exhibits at Natural History Museum.

God, he’s probably late to his shift.

Speak of the devil. His phone begins to vibrate in his back pocket, the vibrations creating a low sounds as it moves against the tile floor. Goddammit. Buck slips a hand behind to take the phone, hoping that he doesn’t draw attention, and slips it out of his pocket. He glances at the screen where a bold Eddie flashes up at him and the time.

Christ, it’s nearly been two hours since this whole shitshow began. No wonder their captors are getting a little antsy.

His thumb hesitates over the screen before he sends the call to voicemail. He wonders if Eddie knows, if any of them do.

He can’t risk it going off again so he turns his phone off, slipping it back into his pocket.

Then Buck winces, shifting his weight around, trying to ease the ache in his leg. He’s been sitting way too long like this.

He turns his gaze back to the man in the middle, now standing still, balaclava shoved up over his mouth.

“Listen, I’m the one who’s holding all the fucking cards, okay?” the man says, aggressively jabbing the gun towards the floor. “Either you get me what I fucking tell you to or I start shooting. You really want their blood on your hands?” Startled, panicked gasps and whispers erupts, someone sobbing at the other end of the lobby, some kind of device going off, and Buck looks next to him where frightened green eyes greet him. Fuck. This really isn’t good.

The man jerks the phone away from his ear. “Shut up,” he barks out, wiping around. He points to his accomplices. “Hey assholes, come over and fucking help me.”

One holds up a large filled bag. “What do you think we’re fucking doing? You think this shits gonna pack itself?”

The man growls, surely glaring even if Buck can’t see it. “Just one of you come here then.”

Great. They’re dysfunctional criminals.

The one from earlier, who yelled at Buck and the woman, jumps the counter, strolling forward with casual disinterest. “Relax, JC,” he says, pulling his own gun from his waistband. “Keep it cool and give me the phone.”

The man, JC apparently, grumbles, but smacks the cellphone into his waiting palm.

“Good, now go shut them up.” He raises the phone up to his face. “Hello,” he says breezily, like he’s not holding up a fucking bank, “Who am I talking too?”

The man hums. “Well, Sergeant Grant —”

Buck can’t help it. His head jerks up at the name, eyes widening, and unfortunately meets the man’s eyes, who looks at Buck with growing interest.

Shit.

“I think I have someone of interest to you,” he’s walking towards Buck, who straightens up, “Maybe this will encourage the LAPD to find a solution that satisfies us all.”

The woman next to him grabs his wrist, gripping it with surprising strength, and he can feel the way she trembles. He pats her hand, whispering quietly, “It’s going to be okay,” before prying her hand off, just in time for the man to stand in front of him.

“Get up,” he says, motioning with the gun. He kicks at Buck’s bad leg. “Come on, pretty boy. Up.”

Buck’s jaw clenches, but he does as he’s told, standing with a hiss of pain as his leg throbs painfully in response to his blood moving again.

The man grabs his arm and drags him to the center of the lobby, jerking him around until Buck is standing in front of him. Buck looks out the wall of windows, seeing the numerous police cars and cops lining the street, and spots a familiar face in the crowd, holding a phone up to her ear.

Letting go of his arm, the man then takes his hand and jerks it up. “Here,” he says pleasantly, “You talk to them.” He places the phone in Buck’s hand before leaning in close, breath grazing Buck’s ear. “Try anything funny and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Got it?” He places the gun’s muzzle at the small of Buck’s back, pressing the cold metal firmly into Buck’s shirt, while his other hand digs into Buck’s shoulder.

Buck swallows, mouth dry, and nods. “Got it.”

He brings the phone up to his ear. “Hi Athena,” he says, closing his eyes at the sharp breath that greets him in return.

“Buck,” Athena sighs, “Boy, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“Needed a new debit card.”

The man behind him huffs, impatient.

“So what’s going on?” Buck asks, eyes trained on her face despite the distance between them. Of course, he can’t really see her, but he would rather focus on her than the guy behind him.

“They’re wanting a car and a one way flight from LAX,” Athena replies in her typical no-nonsense attitude. It helps him calm down, anxiety easing in his stomach, like this was just another day on the job for them both and not Buck being held hostage by some incompetent robbers.

“And what’s the problem?”

“They’re refusing to let the hostages go. Once the hostages have been turned over, we can talk transport. Until then, the LAPD isn’t going to even bother humoring their demands.” Athena sounds exasperated, whether with the LAPD or the idiots behind him, he doesn’t know. “Is anyone hurt?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, no injuries.” A miracle in itself if he’s being honest.

“Including yourself?”

“I’m fine, Athena.”

The grip on his shoulder tightens and the man leans in again. “Enough chit chat. Figure out a plan, pretty boy.”

With a slight turn of his head, Buck looks at him through the corner of his eye and replies. “Like what? They already told you —”

The man jerks him back, pressing the gun harder into his back. “Figure. It. Out.”

“Buck?” Athena says, concern slipping in.

He turns his attention back to the window. “It’s okay, Athena.” He huffs, racking his brain over, trying to think of something that makes the situation they’re in just a little bit better.

“Okay,” he says slowly, hoping he’s not about to make a mistake. “What if they send out half of the hostages right now in return for the car. When that’s done, we talk about releasing the other half and the plane ride?”

It’s not ideal, he knows that, but there’s a noticeable uptick in the captors’ irritation and anxiousness, and they’ve got to get a handle on this before it spirals out of control.

“Let me check in with the IC,” Athena says after a moment. “Stay on the phone.”

A chuckle behind him. “See,” the man says, squeezing his shoulder again, “I knew you could do it.”

If there wasn’t a gun pressed to his back and about twenty people trapped in here with him, he’d turn around and punch the smug asshole. But there is a gun and other hostages and quite frankly he doesn’t feel like dying today. So he’ll suck it up.

“Buck,” Athena’s voice comes back, “IC is saying yes. What about on your end?”

He looks over his shoulder. “They’re agreeing to a half release. Does that work for you?”

“That’s such bullshit, Riley,” JC spits out, somewhere behind Buck. “Tell them to —”

“JC, shut the fuck up,” the man — Riley says, not looking away from Buck. “Yeah, it does. We’ll let twelve go.” He grins, or something close to a grin, the way it distorts his mask. “Hell, I’ll even let you choose.”

Buck returns to window, grimacing, hating the idea. He turns his attention back to Athena. “They said yes. They’ll release twelve.”

“Okay, that’s good. Tell the hostages to come out single file, hands up. We’ll get them sorted out once they’re away from scene.”

Buck nods and then remembers she can’t actually see him. “Will do.”

Riley plucks the phone out of his hand. “Well Sergeant,” he says cheerfully, “It looks like we’re finally getting somewhere. But we need to go now, so I’ll call you back.”

Buck can barely hear the beginning of Athena’s protest before Riley ends the call, putting the phone in his pocket. He also takes away the gun, but wraps his arm around Buck’s shoulders and neck, pressing him close and a little too tight.

“Now, pretty boy,” he says, giving Buck a little shake, “Why don’t you pick out who you’re going to save?”

He picks the easiest route. “Let the left side of the room go.”

Please, he thinks, please don’t make me do this.

But Riley laughs, making his heart drop to his stomach, and shakes Buck again. “Come on, now. That’s no fun.” He turns Buck around to face the others. “I want you to pick who gets to leave first. Twelve. We’ll count them.”

Terrified faces stare back at him. Kids, adults, young, old, some teary-eyed, others stoic.

There’s a knot in his throat and when Buck opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

“You’re wasting time, pretty boy. Maybe I should call the sergeant back and tell her you changed your mind.”

The threat startles Buck back into action and, hating himself, he starts to number them off. Who needs to get out first?

“You,” he says, pointing at woman holding her baby. “Line up at the door, keep one hand up.” He’ll have to tell Athena. He lets out a shaky breath. “One.”

The other man tsks. “Two,” he corrects Buck, tapping his hip with his gun. “Unless you want her to leave the baby behind.”

What a fucking psycho, he thinks wildly, his hands trembling. He nods anyways. “Two.”

The woman gets to her feet on shaky legs, holding onto the bundled baby with one secure arm, and makes her way to the door.

“Stop,” JC barks out when she’s about six steps away. Buck can hear her sob. “That’s far enough.”

Buck forces his attention back to the hostages, looking them over. “Three,” he points to a kid, some scrawny teenager, whose nails were biting into their palms hard enough to bleed. They scramble off the floor, breathing out a quiet "Thank you” as they pass Buck.

Then to an elderly couple, one of them in a wheelchair, oxygen tank strapped to the back. “Four and five,” he says. The one on the floor struggles to get up.

Riley groans. “Tim, help grandpa up,” he orders. The guy at the counter swears, but comes over, tugging the man up too hard, getting him to his feet.

The older man wraps trembling hands around the handles of the wheelchair, his partner reaching up to lay his hand on one his, and begins to push, slowly making their way to the door. Watery blue eyes say their thanks as they pass.

There’s one more kid, a toddler with their dad, and Buck gets them next. “Six and seven.”

The father rises to his feet, picking his child up, and goes.

Okay.

Fuck.

He turns a little bit to the right. “Eight,” he says, pointing to the woman with green eyes. She stumbles to her feet and gives him a grateful smile that turns his stomach.

Four more.

Buck looks at who’s left, trying to figure out who needs to get out now, with sixteen hopeful faces looking back at him.

Nine and ten is another couple. The man keeps his partner behind him, a hand on her hip while her manicured nails bite into his shoulders, as they walk around Buck and Riley. “It’s okay,” the man says, barely loud enough for Buck to hear, “Honey, we’re okay.”

Two left.

“You,” Buck says, looking at two of the register clerks. “Eleven and twelve.” They start to stand when —

“No,” Riley laughs, “You two sit back down.”

“You said I could pick,” Buck says in disbelief as they settle back on the floor, tears streaming down one of their faces. What the hell?

“Not them. We might need ‘em.”

Buck wants to curse but refrains, swallowing tightly.

“Then you two.” He points to two people, one in a set of scrubs, the other in plain clothes. They scramble to get up and walk to the door.

“Good job,” Riley says mockingly and turns Buck around to the front again. He hears Riley rummage for something.

“Here.” Riley shoves the phone into Buck’s hand.

It’s already ringing when Buck brings it up to his ear once more.

“Buck?” It’s Athena.

“We have the first half ready to go. You ready?”

There’s some muttering on the other side. “Yes, we’re good on our end. Remember, single file, hands up.”

Buck lowers the phone. “Single file,” he says, raising his voice just enough to be heard, “Hands up.” He presses the phone back against his ear. “First woman has a baby in her arms. An older gentlemen is pushing a wheelchair.”

“Understood. Send them out.”

“Go,” Buck calls out.

The door creaks open and they dutifully walk out, one exiting after another, until the door falls closed again.

Riley takes the phone again. “Well, Sergeant Grant, we held up our end of the deal. Where’s the car?”

Buck can’t hear what she says, something about it being here, just around the corner.

“You couldn’t get something better than that?” Riley asks, affronted.

“Look, they’ve done what you asked,” Buck interjects, his voice laced with frustration. What a clown. “You’ve got the car, now work on the plane.”

Riley leans in close. “Don’t get smart,” he threatens, tapping the gun against Buck’s side. Then he scoffs. “No, no, it’s fine,” he says irritated, realizing he’s already lost that particular bargain.

A couple seconds of silence. “We want a small plane with minimal crew out of LAX. We’ll tell them where once we’re on the fucking plane. Why the fuck would I tell you where?”

Buck bristles at the way Riley talks to Athena, hands fisting at his sides. Him being an ass isn’t going to make any of this any easier.

The hand in his shirt tightens and Riley growls before jamming the phone against the side of Buck’s face. “Talk to her.”

“Athena,” Buck says dryly, reaching up to take the phone himself thank you very much and holds it to his ear.

She makes a sound of frustration. “LAX needs info before confirmation. They’re not about to strand a crew because these fools don’t want to give a location.”

Buck breathes in, watching the police, who are watching them. He spots two officers walking off scene.

“Focus, Buck,” Athena tells him.

He sighs. “How specific does the information need to be?” he asks, ignoring the way Riley tugs on his shoulder. There’s some chatter on the other end.

“Forty miles to the nearest hub,” Athena replies. “They need to give the crew a safe place to land if they don’t make it to an airport.”

“Okay.”

Buck lowers the phone, muting it, before dropping his hand to his hip.

“Where do you want to go, man?” he asks, tired.

“The fuck you asking for?” JC asks, stomping towards Buck.

Buck rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He looks over his shoulder. “Where do you want to go?”

Riley tilts his head, staring back through the black mask. “Why are they asking?”

“They need to make sure the plane is prepped for the flight. And where to land.” Fingers dig into his shoulder. “They don’t need an airport, if that’s what you want, but they gotta make sure there is an actual place for them to land.”

Riley’s silent for a moment.

“JPA,” he says finally. “Around there.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tim says from behind, surprised. “I thought we were staying in the States?”

“Dipshit, you think they aren’t going to find us if we stay in the US?” JC scoffs, stepping a little too close to one of the hostages. “You think they won’t hunt us down after this?” He reaches for one of the register clerks, who tries to cower away.

“JC,” Riley snaps. “Back up.”

“I fucking know that, asshole, but I didn’t agree to fucking South America!”

“Christ don’t tell me you’re going to pussy out now —”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!” Riley barks out, jerking Buck a step back as he turns. “I’m fucking dealing with it. Just go with the goddamn plan.”

He looks back at Buck. “Fucking tell them JPA.”

Buck brings the phone back up to his ear, unmuting the call. "Athena, they're requesting to go to JPA," Buck relays the information, his voice steady.

He can hear Athena talking to someone. “Brazil?” she asks in disbelief. “Are they serious?”

Buck glances at Riley, who nods impatiently. "Yeah, they're serious," Buck confirms. "They want to go to JPA. Make sure the crew knows and have them prepared."

"Understood," Athena replies, her voice tinged with concern. "I'll relay the information and coordinate with the necessary authorities. Stay on the line, Buck."

Minutes pass, static broken by intermittent chatter. Buck looks outside. He sees a group of cops in black-out gear, moving away from the scene. He frowns.

Riley huffs impatiently behind him. “What’s taking them so long?”

“You’re taking this international,” Buck reminds him. “That’s going to take a bit.” He doesn’t even want to think about the logistics of this mess.

He grumbles, displeased, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Buck.” Athena’s voice comes through the phone. That was quick. “IC wants the other half of the hostages before we give confirmation to the tower.”

Fuck.

Buck nods. “I’ll talk with them.”

He doesn’t bother turning this time. “They want the remaining hostages.”

“We’ll give them eight.”

His teeth clench. “You said half.”

He gets jerked back and sucks in a sharp breath when cold metal is pressed to his temple. “I’m fucking saying eight now.” Riley presses down harder. “You’ve been real helpful, pretty boy, but don’t forget who’s in charge here.” Movement outside. Athena swearing.

Breathing out shakily, highly aware of the fucking gun pressed to his head, Buck tells Athena, “They’ll send out eight.”

“And the others?” The and you? is implied.

“I don’t know.”

Athena breathes out slowly. “Okay. Send them.”

“They’re saying yes,” Buck says to Riley, bringing the phone down. “Same as before.”

Riley taps the gun against Buck’s temple. He holds back a flinch. “See how easy it is when you just do as you’re told?”

Buck gets turned around again and his stomach tightens uncomfortably. God, he can’t do this again.

“As a reward,” Riley says into his ear, “I’ll pick this time.”

A sharp breath of relief and then a spike of guilt. He feels like a coward, how grateful he is not to pick.

“The four who work here,” Riley starts, motioning to a small group all wearing the same uniform, “You’re staying. The rest of you? Get up and line up at the door.”

They’re hesitating, looking at each other and Riley, not believing him. Buck doesn’t blame them. Riley makes an irritated noise. “Are you not fucking listening? Get up!”

The other hostages get up, slow, stiff and apparently still not fast enough, because JC and Tim start yanking them to their feet and shoving them towards the door.

Buck wants to tell them to take it easy, but he doesn’t want to draw attention any one person. God forbid, eight turns into seven.

They all stumble their way to the door. Buck tells them to hold their hands up and walk out slowly, that the police would help them as soon as they can.

When they’re gone, Riley points to the workers again. “Now you all are gonna get up and open the security safes.”

One of them, an older man, shakes his head. “There’s nothing in them that you would want. You’re wasting your time.”

Tim scoffs and kicks at him. “Shut up, we know there’s more cash in there.”

The old man shakes his head again. “I’m telling you there isn’t. It’s just some documents and old files. We don’t keep any cash except for what’s in the registers.”

“We’ll see,” Riley says. “And you better hope you’re not lying.” He jostles Buck. “I’ll stay here with him. Tim, JC get them up and check the safes.”

The four of them are hauled up and dragged around the corner, disappearing from view.

There’s noise from the phone.

“Buck? Buck!” Athena’s voice filters in.

He raises the phone. “I’m here.”

“Where are they taking the hostages?”

“They’re opening the security safes. They’ll bring them back in a moment. Any update from the tower?”

“We got clearance.”

Buck relays the information to Riley before the sound of yelling reaches them. Buck looks over to the hallway they went down and sucks in a sharp breath at sound of something slamming shut.

“You stupid bitch!” JC yells as he drags one of the workers behind him. “Where’s the fucking money?” He pushes her into the lobby, causing her to fall. Buck instinctively takes a step forward, but Riley clamps his hand down on his shoulder, stopping him. The woman whimpers, picking herself up as Tim and the other three hostages return behind them.

“They told you there wasn’t any money in the safes,” Buck snaps at JC, scowling. “Get a fucking grip.”

JC whips towards him, lips twisted into a snarl, and storms forward. “Who the fuck are you talking to? Huh?” He points his own gun at Buck. “Huh? You not going to say anything now?”

“Buck? What’s going on?”

“JC, chill out,” Riley bites out, pulling Buck to the side. “We’re almost fucking done here. Don’t screw it up. Tim, was there anything?”

“Nah, bunch of junk like the geezer said.”

Riley groans, disappointed, and takes the phone, putting it on speaker. “Relax, Sergeant. Everything fine’s over here. In fact, we’re about to let the last four hostages go.”

Buck’s eyes widen. There’s five of them. Oh fuck.

“And what about Buck?” Athena’s on the same page as him.

“Buck?” Riley replies. He hums and brings Buck closer to him. “Buck, huh? Cute name.” He turns his attention back to the phone. “Well, Buck’s going to stay with us for a little bit longer.”

“For what?” Athena demands. “You have the car and plane. What else do you want?”

“Maybe I just want the pleasure of his company, Sergeant. He’s got a nice face.”

Eyes falling shut, Buck tries to calm himself down. It’s going to be fine. He’s going to be fine. He’s got to get the others out.

“No." The first denial of the negotiation. “Absolutely not.”

“I could always just keep ‘em all, Sergeant. If that’s what you want.”

Buck opens his eyes. “Athena, it’s alright,” he says, loud enough for her to hear.

Riley laughs. “Listen to your boy, Sergeant. He’s cool with it!”

Buck can imagine her face, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed.

“Fine,” she says shortly. “Send out the four you still have.”

Buck starts at the feel of lips brushing against his ear and he tries to recoil, stopped once again by the arm now across his shoulders. “Well, aren’t you just a hero?” He pulls away, much to Buck’s relief. “We’ll send em out. Thanks for your cooperation, Sergeant,” Riley says, smug and satisfied.

While the four workers make their way to the door, Buck makes eye contact with the older man from earlier, who’s looking at him with concerned eyes. His steps slow, like he’s going to stop, and Buck subtlety shakes his head.

Keep going, he thinks desperately. Get out.

He hopes it shows in his eyes.

The older man purses his lips, but sighs, and keeps walking on. Relief sinks in as they leave.

Now it’s just him and the robbers. Great.

“Stay on the phone, pretty boy,” Riley tells him, placing the phone back in his hand. “JC, Tim get our shit and get ready to leave.” His hand finally drags away from Buck’s shoulders, dropping to the back of his shirt where he fists his hand into Buck’s shirt.

Buck takes the phone off speaker and brings it back to his ear.

“Athena,” Buck says, listening to her steady breaths.

“Buckaroo. How are you doing?”

He laughs, breathless and small. “Could be better.” Riley’s talking to his two idiots, taking a step or two away from Buck. His fingers loosen in Buck’s shirt.

Buck can’t see any of the hostages anymore and catches someone moving just at the outside corner of the building.

“It’ll be over soon,” Athena assures him. “Just got to do as I say, okay?”

“Okay.”

Moments pass.

“Buck.”

“Yeah?”

“When I say go, dive to the floor. Do you understand?”

Buck can feel the tremors in his hand. “Yeah.”

The seconds stretch, feeling like an eternity, and Buck only looks at Athena.

Fingers drop away from his shirt.

“Go!” Athena orders and Buck throws himself to the floor, phone bouncing out of his hands, as two of the back doors busts open with an ear-splitting shriek.

“Get down on the ground!” An officer yells as they storm in.

“What the fuck!” One of idiots shouts, there’s a thud, the pop of a gun, and chaos erupts.

Buck inches his way towards the front, keeping flat to the ground, shots ringing out, glass breaking, when there’s a crack and a heavy weight falls on his legs. He cries out, startled at the sharp pain that runs up his legs, and he freezes, covering his head with his hands.

Buck's heart pounds in his chest as he tries to make sense of the chaos unfolding around him. The sound of gunfire fills the air, and he can hear the shouts of the officers as they engage in a fierce exchange with the robbers.

He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go home. Buck squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore what’s happening around him.

Minutes feel like hours as the gunfire gradually subsides.

Buck refuses to open his eyes, strangely numb, and tries to breath. He’s okay. He’s okay. There’s loud steps, crunching glass, radios and orders going off, but Buck only focuses on the cool tile against his forehead, the uncomfortable scrunch of his nose against the floor. He doesn’t want to look up and see Riley above him, doesn’t want to feel the rough touch of his hands, or see what’s pining his legs.

It feels familiar. This panic.

“Buck? Buck!” someone calls out, but it isn’t Athena. He shakes his head. It isn’t Athena.

Hurried steps approach him.

“Jesus,” someone else says lowly, “Get him the hell off. He’s gone.”

A denial crawls up his throat. He’s here. He’s alive. But the words stay in his throat, choked and trapped.

More steps. Something grazes his pant leg. The pressures eases off his legs just so, strained grunts reaching his ears, before it’s removed completely. There’s a heavy thump behind him.

“Buck?” A hand in his hair, trying to unclench his fingers. “Buckaroo, can you hear me?”

Buck breathes out shakily, wanting to cooperate, but only a whine escapes. Why can’t he move?

“Okay, Buck, it’s alright,” the voice says comfortingly. “We’re going to help you turn over okay? Then we’re going to get you out of here.”

Hands at his shoulder, his hips, and Buck lets go of his hair to plant his hands on the ground.

“Okay, honey, on three. One, two, three!”

Buck helps, pushing himself just high enough to roll over, resting back on the ground face up.

“Buck, buddy, I need you to open your eyes for me. Can you do that?”

His jaw flexes. He cracks his eyes open, wincing at light, and forces his eyes fully open.

Oh.

“Hey, Buck, there you are,” Chimney says, above him, red-eyed but relived. “You gave us quite the scare, man.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Athena or Bobby are going to let you out of their sights after this,” Hen adds, wiping gently at his face.

What?

“What are you doing here?” Buck breathes out, confused. “We don’t cover this area.”

Hen laughs, scrubbing a tear away from her cheek, and gives a weak smile. “You thought Athena wasn’t going to tell us you were here?”

“Did you think Eddie was going to let us stay away?” Chim asks dryly before shining a light in his eyes. “He would’ve just stolen an ambulance and came anyways.”

Eddie.

Buck looks around. Where is he? ”Booby made him stay outside,” Hen answers his unasked question. “He’s waiting for you.”

“Can we go?” Buck asks, clearing his throat.

“Do you think you can stand?” Chim replies, turning off the penlight. “We have a stretcher if you need it.”

No. He wants to walk out of here.

He shakes his head. “Just help me up.”

“Okay.” They both hesitate and then Hen says, “Just — Just don’t look at the ground, okay? Eyes forward.”

He frowns at her before he realizes that he’s probably the only one left alive.

His stomach revolts at the idea, but he nods anyways.

Buck takes a deep breath, mustering the strength to push himself up from the ground. With the help of Chimney and Hen, he manages to stand, his legs wobbly beneath him. He forces his gaze forward, avoiding the gruesome scene around him. He doesn’t need to see that.

They go through the front door — not really a door anymore — and his teammates walk him through, quietly speaking with him as he tries to reorient himself.

They’re just getting through the police barrier when Buck sees him.

“Eddie,” he breathes out, eyes burning. “Eddie!”

He jerks around from his place at the ambulance and Buck can see the way his mouth falls open, how tension slips away from his shoulders, the way his lips say his name.

Then he’s running.

“Buck!”

And then he’s there.

Eddie’s arms slip around him, pulling Buck close, and desperate words fill his ears.

“Oh thank god, oh thank god, Buck,” Eddie breathes out, hand cradling the back of Buck’s head. “Jesus Christ, I was so worried. When Athena called, I — I.” He cuts himself off. Eddie presses a warm kiss to his temple. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Eddie pulls away just a bit, just far enough to get a good look at Buck’s face. “You are okay, right?” he asks, pulling his hand around to cup Buck’s jaw, warm brown eyes staring into his own. “Physically, at least?”

Buck’s afraid to open his mouth. That tears will come and they won’t stop as soon as he tries to talk. He just nods and then buries his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, breathing in his familiar aftershave.

Strong hands rub comforting circles into his back.

“Eddie,” Chim says, “We should get him to the ambulance and check him out.”

He feels Eddie nod. “Yeah.” His head ducks down. “C’mon, Buck. Let’s go.”

Eddie shifts away from him, moving to his side, and has one arm wrapped around his waist.

When they reach the ambulance, Bobby and Athena are waiting for them.

Offering a small smile, Athena reaches up to his face with one hand, thumb stroking across his cheekbone. “You did so well, Buck. Good job, baby.” Her smile dims. “But I’m sorry that you got stuck in the middle of it at the end.”

Buck shakes his head. “Not your fault,” he says quietly. “Did what you could.”

“We could say the same about you, kid,” Bobby says, encouraging Eddie and Buck to take a seat. He puts his hand on Buck’s shoulder, gentle and comforting. “Now lets get you looked over, huh?”

Eddie holds his hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb and Buck lets his exhaustion take over, slumping against Eddie with a sigh. “I want to go home.”

A brief laugh tickles his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

Buck lets his eyes fall shut, letting Hen lift his arm to slip a blood pressure cuff on him, when the thought hits him. “God,” he mutters, disbelief coursing through him, “I didn’t even get my new card.”

There’s scattered laughter and a small grin comes to his face as a chuckle escapes, the absurdity of the past several hours sinking in.

“Honestly,” Eddie says, squeezing his hand, “I think you should just switch over to my bank.”

[bright-molina]

Emergency Contact

synopsis: Sometimes it takes an accident and the revelation that Buck is Luke's emergency contact to really bring the Buckley-Mercer (et al) Family to the same page.

fandoms: Julie and the Phantoms x 911

relationships/characters: Buckley!reader (gender neutral), Alex Mercer, Evan Buckley, Luke Patterson, Athena Grant, Maddie Buckley (all relationships are familial/platonic)

word count: 2503

warnings: mentions of minor injuries (and I mean minor, sprained ankle, minor concussion is all)

a/n: @biqherosix surprise! Catch me pushing the Buckley-Mercer family agenda cause I can. For anyone wondering, we're running with the idea that they're cousins. I honestly have no idea where this came from, I wrote it at like midnight yesterday. And it only figures that the first thing I post in forever is a crossover that is mostly self-indulgent but I promise I'm trying to get the hang of things again.

For those of y'all that haven't seen 911 but still wanna read: one, I appreciate you so much oh my gosh, two, I highly recommend it and three, all you really need to know for this one is that Buck is a firefighter with the 118, Athena Grant is a police officer, and Maddie is Buck's older sister and a 911 dispatcher. If I missed anything and you wanna know feel more than free to ask!

The absolute last thing you expected was your phone ringing well past midnight.

“Don’t answer it.”

Alex’s voice sounded from beside you, muffled by the pile of blankets he was buried under. You rolled your eyes and reached for your phone only to have him snatch it out of your grip and stuff it under the blankets alongside him.

“Give it back!”

“No,” Alex crossed his arms tighter, ignoring the second ring completely. “It’s probably Buck checking to see if we’ve gone to sleep yet, if you answer he’ll know we’re still up.”

“Like Buck would voluntarily be up right now. He’s fifteen hours into a twenty four hour shift,” You leaned back against the couch, knowing there was no tearing the phone away from Alex. “Will you at least check who it is to make sure it’s not Maddie?”

Alex groaned, loud and exaggerated, before sticking his head underneath his blankets to check your phone. You were just barely able to hear his panicked ‘uh oh’ before he put on his best fake tired voice and answered, “Hello?”

“Alexander Mercer, what are you doing awake at this hour?”

“I wasn’t awake.”

“Sure you weren’t. Give the phone to y/n.”

He was handing you the phone in a flash and you could see his wide eyes in the dim blue light coming from the living room tv. “It’s Athena.”

“Thanks, I heard. And I told you so,” You smacked him with your pillow when he stuck his tongue out and he quickly ducked back under the blankets. Whether he was hiding from you or Athena was up for debate. “Hi Athena.”

“Y/N,” Uh oh was right. You recognized the tone in her voice immediately. Exasperated and tired with a little bit of worry laced through. “You wouldn’t be able to get ahold of Buck would you?”

“I could,” You sat up straighter and Alex peeked out from under the blankets again, craning his neck to listen in on the conversation. “Is something wrong? Can’t you call Captain Nash?”

“I could,” Athena echoed your words back to you and you heard muffled shouting in the back. “But Captain Nash isn’t Luke’s emergency contact.”

“His what!”

“It’s not a big deal!” Luke’s voice. It was him who had been shouting. “I’m fine!”

“The cast you’re wearing says different,” There was a click on the other end of the line and Alex tripped over the discarded blankets and pillows as he rushed to look for the car keys. “We couldn’t reach him and Maddie was his second emergency contact but May said she went home early today.”

“Yeah, uh, she -” You put on your shoes as fast as possible and reached for the nearest sweater, one you were sure wasn’t yours. “Jee’s teething so she - she’s probably busy with her. What happened? Luke -”

“Is fine. You just focus on getting to the station and bringing Buck to Med cause he’s gotta fill out some papers. I’ll stay here with him until you do.”

“Okay. Okay we’ll be there soon.”

“Y/N put me on speaker,” Athena must’ve been able to hear the panic in your voice. She knew both you and Alex well enough to know every emotion that was running through you both at that moment. “I want both of you to listen to me. Luke is okay. A little scratched up. Maybe a bruised ego. But he’s just fine, I promise you.”

If there was anybody you trusted it was Athena Grant. So you and Alex shared a look, thanked her, and sprinted out of the apartment wondering what on earth Luke had gotten himself into.

“What do you mean you don’t know!”

“Athena didn’t tell us anything!” You shouted right back at Buck despite knowing it probably wasn’t the best idea given the time or the circumstances. Alex was a few feet away, talking quietly to Chimney to have him relay a message to Maddie. She’d be less angry if the news came from him.

“I thought he went back home,” Buck shook his head before jogging down the stairs and you followed him. He all but charged to the locker room and started shoving all his things in the duffel he always carted with him from the apartment to the station and back. “I thought he was okay.”

It wasn’t until then, until you caught a glimpse of his reflection in the little mirror in his locker surrounded by pictures, that you realized something. Evan Buckley, the firefighter, your brother who always seemed so fearless, was scared.

Buck’s mind was racing at a million miles an hour. He kept going through every piece of information he could from the last two days. Luke had promised him. Sworn he was going back home to his parents. He should’ve known better. They were too much alike and he should’ve known better.

He supposed the worrying came with the territory. The anxiety and panic and not knowing were all things he didn’t like but things he would bear if it meant making sure one of his own was okay.

He had always been protective. You were the youngest Buckley and he took it upon himself to make sure you had a better life than him and Maddie had had. Alex was family and he didn’t hesitate to give him a home when he needed one, metaphorically and literally.

And somewhere along the way the Buckley-Mercer family had grown without him realizing it. Alex had brought his band, his friends, over for dinner once and from that moment on they became a fixture in his life.

Bobby, who was surprised the first time Maddie grinned and hugged him, telling him how proud she was of him. Reggie, who was the first to accept a place in their makeshift home, needing the support and love they offered more than anything. And Luke, who was stubborn and wore his heart on his sleeve and fit right in with them.

And Buck couldn’t believe he had let them down. He couldn’t believe that he tried so hard to let Luke know he was there for him and he had failed. If he had just paid a little more attention then -

“I know what you’re thinking,” Your voice cut off his thoughts and he paused for a moment before continuing.

“No you don’t.”

“You’re blaming yourself. It’s what you always do,” You watched as he pocketed his phone and zipped up the bag. “It’s what you did when I thought I could jump off the swing and ended up with a broken arm even though you couldn’t have stopped me. It’s what you did when Alex had that really bad allergic reaction even though none of us knew he was allergic in the place. It’s what you’re doing now.”

Buck slammed the locker shut without meaning to and silently wondered how you seemed to know everything about him when he seemed to know nothing about any of you, not really. He wasn’t like you or Maddie or Alex and that had never been more clear.

“I’m not blaming myself. I just -” He sighed and walked out of the locker room, past you and Alex, and around to the drivers side of the car. He didn’t get in yet. Instead he glanced between the two of you. “I’m not Maddie. I don’t know how to tell what you guys are thinking. I don’t know how to do the things she does. I can’t help how she does. But - but maybe if I could then -”

“You’re right,” You cut him off, already knowing where he was going. “You’re not Maddie. But we don’t need another Maddie, we need Buck.”

“Y/N’s right,” Alex leaned against the top of the car and gave an easy shrug. “Maddie does family dinners every week and helps us with homework and keeps superhero bandaids around for when Reg and Bobby come back from the skate park with scrapes all over them. But you host game nights and come to every one of our practices when you’re not here and tell really bad jokes when you know we need to hear them.”

“They aren’t bad -”

“Yeah they are,” Both you and Alex answered in sync, successfully pulling the faintest laugh from Buck.

“You’re Buck,” You repeated and finally opened the door of the car. “And when Luke left home he came to you. Athena said you’re his emergency contact because he trusts you more than anyone else. We all do.”

It took less than a couple seconds for Buck to nod and get in the car, the two of you following his lead. Moments later he was speeding away from the 118 and in the direction of the hospital, determined to be where he was needed.

“You’re an idiot, Luke Patterson.”

“Wow thanks,” Luke rolled his eyes from where he sat on the couch, an action that earned him a scolding from you, and kept picking at the fabric of the pillow he was holding to him.

It was nearing mid morning and you had all gotten back to Buck’s apartment only a short while ago. The combined insistence and intimidation coming from both Buck and Athena meant the doctors had no choice but to run as many tests as necessary until they were positive Luke was fine.

Your eyes scanned his face again, a habit you’d picked up from Maddie, in an attempt to assess the damage once more to be sure nothing had gone wrong in the last ten minutes.

A butterfly bandage on his forehead above his left eye. Some scrapes on his arms from the fall. The brace around his right ankle propped up on the coffee table and some pillows. A tear in his favorite flannel that you were already patching up.

“What were you thinking?” You sighed and dropped your hands, turning in your spot beside him to look at him and read all the expressions flashing across his face. “You got hit by a car, Luke.”

“I did not!” He flinched when Alex, fast asleep across the other couch, shifted a little at the noise. Buck did the same thing upstairs in the loft, though he recognized the sound of talking and opted to listen in. “I swerved out of the way. The bike lost control and I hit the pavement but I’m fine.”

“The mild concussion and sprained ankle beg to differ,” You stared again. Luke refused to meet your eyes, refused to look anywhere around the apartment that wasn’t the pillow on his lap. He’d been doing the same thing since Buck had nearly busted down the door of the room he’d been sitting in at the hospital. “What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know,” Luke finally sighed, knowing you wouldn’t let it go any time soon. “I just - I did go home. At first. And i-it was okay until my mom started doing that -that thing she does. The voice, talking down, asking when I was gonna start getting serious, telling me I should do better. I tried but she wouldn’t stop saying all of it so I -” His shoulders sank and his head hung low and you moved closer. “I left.”

“So why didn’t you come back here?” You reached out, hand on his arm in an attempt to get him to hear you. To listen to you. To talk to you. “What made you think you couldn’t?”

It took a few moments but when Luke finally looked up his eyes were watering and he looked unsure. He looked scared and he was never scared. “I didn’t want to disappoint anyone else.”

“I don’t know if you know this,” You gave a sigh and leaned against the back of the couch on one arm. “But we are, historically, a pretty messed up family.”

You successfully pulled a laugh from Luke and a muffled ‘shut up’ from Alex only made the two of you laugh more. But when the laughter faded away you were left with the ghost of those doubts. Present and needing closure. To be acknowledged and reassured.

“There is nothing you could do that would disappoint Maddie and Buck, believe me,” You gave him a faint, sad smile and for a second he wondered what memories were the source of it. “And you never have to be scared. We’re your family and we’re here for you. Me and Alex and Buck and Maddie. Athena who stayed with you until we got there and after. Chimney who’s breaking the news to Maddie to save us all. Albert. May. Bobby. Reggie. You have all of us. I hate to break it to you but you’re a part of our weird little family and we aren’t going anywhere any time soon. So please, please never feel like you have to hide from us. You’re home here, Luke.”

And he believed every word. For a moment he wondered why he ever doubted it in the first place. It was evident in the way he had a designated spot at the dining table at Maddie’s place. In the way his clothes took up a good amount of space in one of the dressers upstairs. In the pair of house keys that hung on a chain around his neck. Reggie and Bobby were also given a pair long ago.

“Does one of you want to explain to me what the hell happened!” The sound of the door being thrown open startled all of you. Alex sat up quickly and Buck came barreling down the stairs to meet Maddie at the door.

Bobby and Reggie came in after her, holding piles of various items she’d insisted on bringing with. They were followed moments later by Albert carrying bags filled with takeout and then Chimney with Jee-Yun in her car seat.

It was dead silent for a moment as Maddie looked between her siblings, her cousin, and the boy she considered one of her own. They were all her family and that was that.

Finally the silence was broken by Luke leaning over in your direction and quietly asking, “Hey, does home have a place I can hide from Maddie until she’s less mad?”

“Oh, Luke,” You offered him a smile he recognized as a slightly sympathetic yet playful one. “There is nowhere you can hide where Maddie’s anger, love, and aggressive post-injury nurturing won’t reach. Good luck.”

She sat in your spot the moment you stood up and was immediately making sure Luke was okay. Her eyes scanned each injury just as yours had and when she finally let him take a breath he looked around.

All of this, the chaos that was unpacking the various takeout boxes. Setting up a little station on the kitchen island with various medical supplies. Chasing Jee-Yun around as she crawled and wobbled all around the place. Music playing softly in the background as everyone smiled and talked and felt relieved that he was okay.

This was home. Luke was sure of it.

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[early-sxnsets]

Hey!! I just read your answer to that one anon about straight people in queer media and I agreed with everything ! I do have another question, though. is it ok for straight people to read smut of m|m or w|w ships?

hey darling! sorry it took so long for a reply; this has been sitting in my inbox for a few days as i’ve been running around hectically, but hey! answering it now!

long answer short: depends on the context

since this is such a complex answer, i’m going to go a lot more in depth with my opinions, but may i emphasize that these are my opinions. this is a topic that really does depend on who you’re talking to, but i’m seeing this with a “here are the facts in correlation to my experience, therefore this is my conclusion”.

i’m putting a ‘keep reading’ cut because i’ll be mentioning some very mildly NSFW stuff (in reference to my answer), therefore proceed with slight caution

to start this off, we have to think of the context of smut, how it’s used within fanfics, and the implications of reading smut. for sake of the argument, i’m not going to write what type of relationship is showcased in the smut *yet*

there is, of course, many types of smut. porn with plot, porn without plot, smut that’s within a larger fic that may only take up 10% of the story, if even that, etc.

in addition, we have to keep in mind what purpose smut usually serves within a fandom setting. it’s unlike most pornographic content, as in there’s a pre-set character and a context that they’re in (typically), as in reference to a setting we’r familiar with. we care about these people, and they’re performing a bodily action that hey, (most) people do at some point in their lives! in my opinion, (some) smut is comparable to television shows on premium networks that allow sexual content within the scenes. it’s a general “oh boy, they’re fucking! golly-jee!”

with the context of smut and the types of smut in mind, let’s dig deeper

let’s split them into two groups: fics that are about smut vs. fics that have smut.

let’s dig into fics with smut:

fics with smut, whether porn with plot or larger fics with smut in them typically follow a guideline of a story. they’re not there as just an outright fuck-fest, but rather have a story to tell. yes, even porn with plot. for example, here’s a pretty stereotypical porn with plot: person A and person B know each other somehow (sometimes friends, sometimes enemies! who knows!) and end up hooking up. then they do it again. and again. oh boy now they’re smashing but wait, there’s feelings??? what now!!! well, now there’s probably an emotional fuck, which leads to them talking and resolving into a relationship, right?

there’s a story told within that; it isn’t simply characters just smashing to smash, it’s an analysis into a character’s personality and how they would react to a situation that (typically) involves emotional attachment through sexual actions. hence, the term porn with plot. it’s like any other story, just with, yknow, sex as the driving factor.

then of course, there’s the story with smut. typically these involve either relationship building or established relationships where smut is used for one of two reasons, both of which involve trust. whether it’s a couple’s first time being shown in the fic, or it’s shown in the fic as part of their routine as a couple, or maybe even to show comfort. sex is, after all, isn’t inherently taboo and for most people, it’s a common part of life, so some writers chose to include it in order to show that.

let’s look at fics that are about smut now:

oh boy, someone’s getting down and dirty. you open the fic and maybe there’s a little exposition, but surely enough, a couple paragraphs down and wham, they’re at it.

there are called porn without plot. these fics can explore a number of things, such as possible headcanoned or canon kinks a character may or may not have, or it could be an exploration into how a character may act in a sexual setting, and so on.

with that aside, it’s still one thing and one thing only: sex. nothing much else to it. they smash, then it’s over. maybe it finishes with them cuddling or going on with their day, but that’s all. there’s no fancy way to put this, they’re just fucking! it’s probably the closest thing we get to pornography in fandoms without super-committed cosplayers and/or artists.

therefore, i need to highlight that that fics that are about smut are pornographic in nature. i’m not gonna call them outright porn, but they call it that themselves. porn with plot.

may i also include, before we continue, that there’s no shame in porn overall. i’m a sex-positive person and i say hey! have fun, adults! yknow, as long as you’re consuming it ethically!

now the difference is cleared, let’s look at consuming smut in correlation to one’s sexuality.

may i emphasize that we’re using “porn without plot” as something used to evoke arousal in those attracted to the people within them in the context of these examples. i am aware that there are plenty of people who read them just for the sake of cheering on their faves gettin’ it on, but i’m using a hypothetical context. 

let’s use a couple example people in example situations.

straight guy read WLW porn without plot

straight gal reads MLM porn without plot

lesbian gal reads MLM porn without plot

lesbian gal reads WLW porn without plot

straight gal reads WLW porn without plot

immediately, we see a stereotypical, frequently referenced situation: straight guys watching (or in this case reading) WLW porn. most people see that automatically as wrong, right? this is because he’s unethically consuming this content that’s of people he’s attracted to and therefore sexualizing for their SGA (same gender attraction) and consequentially, fetishization. 

in the same type of content, a lesbian gal consuming WLW porn isn’t unethical; she’s expressing her own sexuality through content of people like her.

let’s flip it. straight gal consuming MLM porn is literally the same thing as a straight guy consuming WLW porn. that’s it. it’s not rocket science, it’s someone consuming media that’s the sexualization of SGA in someone they find attractive, therefore is, say it with me, fetishization. 

but we have a lesbian gal reading MLM porn. what’s she going to get out of it? probably, nothing, right? so what about the straight gal reading WLW porn? i think that’s fine, since hey, she’s not getting anything out of it! it’s not her fetishizing it for her own satisfaction.

i see the last types of situations as “sideline cheering”. i know this may sound odd, but your faves are getting it on and you just feel like cheering for them? yeah! cheer! i’ll use an example of friendships: i have MLM friends who tell me about their sexual experiences with their partners, and i’m not attracted to men, but i’ll cheer them on as a friend hearing about their friend’s good times (in a situation were we both open to sharing these details, of course). i see reading porn without plot while it doesn’t apply to you as that kinda stuff; supporting your pals having a good ol’ time.

now to move onto situations of fics with smut in them.

personally, i feel like anyone can read fics with smut in them because they tell a story. they serve a purpose of storytelling, and they just so happen to include sex, perhaps as a plot point, but maybe as an exploration of character(s) in a deeper way than “i wonder what they’d do in bed”.

now, i know that sometimes, the situation blurs, but for the sake of the question at hand, i’d say the context depends on specifically what type of smut the straight person is consuming.

again, as a disclaimer, this is my opinion. i fully understand people who have differing opinions in this, but this is just how i feel about the subject.