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rememberwren · 7 months ago

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A Dichotomy of Thought || 1

Warnings and details: disabled!Johnny; established Ghoap future Ghoap/reader; domestic abuse (not Ghoap); heavy themes of suicide, violence, abuse, poor coping mechanisms, prescription drugs. I’m not sure if I have anything here, let me know if anyone is interested in this series.

A helicopter goes down in the mountains of Kazakhstan and it takes a piece of Soap with it. They never recovered the arm—nor the three service members who lost more than their arms in the crash. The thought is one that Johnny’s mind cycles back to often, in moments of quiet or while he lies awake at night feeling tremors in an arm that’s no longer attached. Suddenly he’ll wonder: what are those bones up to, buried in snow and ice so deep the sun will never touch them again? Do they miss me?

Fuck, he misses them.

After the accident, the world is very black and white. Mostly it’s black. Blackness at the edge of his vision threatens to creep in when he stands too long, when he stands on his own, when he turns his head too fast. Anytime his blood pressure rises over that Goldilocks number of 120/80, it threatens to drop him faster than Simon used to during their first weeks of training together in the 141.

The doctors say that he’s a miracle. The traumatic brain injury had his brain swelling and pushing at the confines of his skull like water freezing in a bottle. Give him a little longer in the cold and maybe his cap would blow off. Except it hadn’t; he was still dealing with swelling all over: in his thalamus, his hypothalamus, in his cerebrum, all the words he’d never bothered to learn in school and couldn’t fucking remember now no matter how hard he tries. He gets the point. Simon does too. Johnny should be dead.

Instead he just wishes he were.

Even now, when he can remember his name and Simon’s and even (more often than not) the name of the waitress who serves them chicken and waffles at the local diner every Saturday, there are still more bad days than good. Still more darkness than light. Still more nights waking up to the sound of helicopter blades slowing, the relentless hum becoming a deafening chop chop chop like the thrum of his heartbeat. There’s that moment of weightlessness when the helicopter goes down and he has yet to go with it that makes him wake in a cold sweat, nauseous and looking for something to be sick in.

Through it all, Simon is there. Simon is the light. He’d laugh if he heard Johnny say that—though a laugh is probably too generous. Simon doesn’t laugh much these days. Not when he spends three fourths of his time taking care of Johnny and the other fourth thinking about how better to take care of Johnny. If it weren’t for Simon, Johnny would have done himself in by now. There’s a thousand ways to do it; plenty of arms and munitions in the apartment they share together. Or there are the pain pills, if he wanted it to look like an accident. A few too many of those and he could crawl right through that darkness in his vision and find out what’s on the other side. As soon as the thought crosses his mind (and it crosses his mind more often than that fucking chicken crosses the road), the guilt comes, like anyone and everyone can read it on his mind: his mama rest her soul, Simon, Jesus on the cross. After all of the work that has gone into him, into saving his broken body and mind, into rehabilitating him, how can he even think of throwing in the towel?

Turns out it’s pretty fucking easy to think about it.

As a matter of fact, he’s thinking about it the first time he meets you, when you nearly do the job for him.

It’s spring, cool, and he’s working up a goddamn sweat anyway. Simon stands in the alleyway, smoking and pretending not to watch as Johnny hobbles up and down the length of the parking lot with his forearm crutch. His armpit throbs. His knee throbs. His head throbs as he continues along, beating out a strange little rhythm on the concrete—thum-thump, thum-thump, thum-thump. He says all the curse words he knows and dreams up a few new ones too. It’s supposed to be getting easier, but Simon just pushes him harder to make up for the ground he covers. That’s one of the shitty parts about loving an ex-military man; he never goes easy on you.

Johnny’s thinking about the tub upstairs, just big enough for him if he curls in on himself. Sometimes a hot bath helps the knots in his muscles, but sometimes when Simon leaves the room to get a washcloth Johnny will slip beneath the surface of the water and see how long he can hold his—

Then you come out of absolutely nowhere in your shitty little four-door and nearly hit him. As a matter of fact, you do hit his crutch, sending it sprawling out of his hand and sending him clattering to the ground on his bad side. For a moment, he thinks: this is it. This is how I die. Not in a helicopter in Kazahkstan but here, now, today, and he can’t tell if it’s relief in his belly or regret. Then your tires squeal like pigs on the pavement, the smell of burnt rubber thick in the air, and he is face to face with you and your horror, close enough that the air from your hasty turn brushes along his body and sends his heart pounding.

“What the steaming bloody fucking Jesus do you think you’re doing?” he finds himself shouting, pain lancing all along his side from his fake knee to the stump of his arm. Simon is there all at once, cigarette abandoned to smolder to ash in the alleyway, putting his hands under Johnny’s armpits and lifting him like a child even when he yelps in pain like a kicked dog. Johnny leans against him heavily. The edges of his vision are turning black. He bangs his fist against the hood of your car. “Did Jesus send ye? Did He tell ye to finish the fucking job and do me in? ‘That’s the cunt right there, beam him with your car’? Did he tell you that?”

You reluctantly get out of the car, not even wearing a goddamn seatbelt. The car’s soft, insistent alarm begins to remind you with unending politeness that the door is open and your seatbelt is off while you stand there, pallid, eyes huge and watering in the face of Johnny’s shouts.

He sees then that one of your eyes is swollen almost completely shut, blood turning the white sclera pink like the fine mist of blood over the snow when they finally pulled Johnny free from the helicopter. No wonder you didn’t see him coming, with a single functioning eye. He’s opened his mouth to tell you so (and to tell you a dozen other fucking things) when he nearly swoons, the rug of the world being tugged under his feet by the hand of God.

Simon slips a firmer arm around Johnny’s waist.

A man gets out of the passenger side. He begins to berate you for not paying attention, for nearly killing Johnny. Johnny agrees, but is annoyed all the same. He’s the one who almost died; leave the shouting to him.

“I’m so sorry,” you choke out, tears dripping near-constant from your eyes. “I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. Let me get your—”

“Done enough, haven’t you?” Simon asks cooly. It sends you reeling back into the car where you sit with both hands over your mouth, chest hitching with your panicked sobs.

“Hey, is he, like, okay?” your partner asks.

“Fuck off,” Simon says, deftly ushering Johnny over one shoulder and holding the crutch in the other. He carries them back to the elevators without breaking a sweat, and Johnny cries on his shoulder from the pain of it, the sheer embarrassment of it the whole way home. The day before Kazahkstan he couldn’t have been able to tell you the last time he cried; now he cries every fucking day from one reason or another.

“I’m fine,” Johnny says when they make it back to the apartment and Simon eases him down into a chair. They arrange his knee in the one position that has it throbbing less, but then Johnny bats Simon’s hands away. “Go. I’m fine. I don’t need you hoverin’ over me.”

“Alright.”

“Fuck off with yer alright.”

Simon doesn’t say anything. Johnny hears his footsteps leading toward the bedroom they share—hardly a bedroom, how long has it been since they slept there together peacefully? Since they fucked? Johnny can tell you how long it’s been. Since before things went black and white. The footsteps stop then.

“You stepped in front of her, Johnny,” Simon says, his voice low but not quiet enough to count as a whisper. “I watched you do it. Don’t think you’re so fucking slick.”

He shuts the bedroom door behind him.

#ghoap x reader #dichotomy of thought

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emptyultimatum · 5 months ago

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GOOD GIRL

Avenger Loki x gender neutral!reader In which Loki changes things up a little

~ SMUT!! [ fingering, praise, light breast play, light oral, references to vaginal s3x ]

~ TW!! [ character injury but mild ]

I meant it as a joke, you thought to yourself, half ruefully, half gleefully. But as the quivering, spread legs before you revealed a dripping, fluttering cunt, you could hardly call your thoughts regret.

It all started with the mission. Twenty-four escaped convicts, an easy night out for the Avengers. Technically, it was below Avenger status (not exactly world-saving, after all), but Tony was trying to make a good impression on the U.S. government, so the superhuman heroes spent a lot of time running errands for the White House. You and Peter were on it, an easy fix. Honestly, either one of you could’ve done it alone.

You went left, Spider-Man went right. There were supposed to be an even split, but the numbers changed too quickly to communicate. You soared over the frigid treetops, angel wings beating the air, when a harpoon speared through your feathers. You crashed to the ground, keening with pain.

Six criminals got away. Peter handled the other eighteen, but the damage was done. They sent Vision after the last six and helicoptered the two of them back to Stark Towers.

Loki, as one can imagine, was distraught.

“What happened? Parker, who did this to her? She needs medical assistance—”

“What do you think I’m trying to do, Curlicues?” Tony Stark gestured to the corner with his chin. “Go over there and sit like a good girl.”

An unfamiliarly dangerous spark lit Loki’s features. You cocked your head curiously through the pain, but Tony blew him a kiss. Loki hissed through his teeth, but backed off, letting Tony scan your gaping wound.

“You know, I always wondered if these things were illusions,” Tony mused, tapping on his holographic screens. “They appear out of nowhere, it doesn’t make sense, unless—”

“Pocket dimension,” you gritted, as Bruce Banner and Tony snapped their fingers in unison.

“That does make sense,” Bruce said brightly.

A red syringe-shaped arm popped out of the side of the medical bed. It blasted freezing nanoparticles over the gash in your wing, then retracted. Enhanced healing patches were placed over the bruises and road rash along your arm and thighs, and Tony gave you a jar of skin-repair salve for later. A few adrenaline injections to the arm later, and you were feeling much better.

“Can I see my boyfriend now? He might tear a hole through all nine realms if you don’t let him check on me,” you rolled your eyes, beckoning Loki over.

He pushed past Tony, elbowing him out of the way. “Darling, are you okay?”

“You’re welcome,” Stark said. “No problem. I’ll just go over here and lick my ass, I guess.”

“Yes, do that,” Loki muttered. Tony winked at him, deadpan.

“I’m much better,” you reassured him, flexing the wing and drawing his attention. “I heal quickly, remember? The worst was the pain, but it won’t linger.”

“Good. Then let’s get to your bed. You need rest.” Loki scooped you up. The world wavered in a flash of green, blinding and strong, and suddenly they were back in their old, cozy room. A sweater lay, forgotten, on a chair. A few snack wrappers and… other kinds of wrappers lay scattered about the floor.

“Oh it’s a mess,” you smacked your forehead. “Good thing they healed me in the med bay and not here.”

“I’ll clean it up, don’t worry,” he assured you, his eyes sincere. “Just take it easy, dearest.”

“What’s got you all worried, Lo?” you laughed, cupping his cheek. “I’m fine. I’ve been hurt worse before.”

“Yes, but that was before we were together. Additionally, I fear I’m facing some… insecurity, as it were.” He glanced away, cheeks pinking.

“Insecurity? About what?”

“I- nothing. It’s no matter. We shall discuss later,” he brushed you off, standing. “Please, let me clean for you.”

You grinned up at him. “If you say so. Thanks for cleaning for me, Loki. You’re such a good girl.”

You put a growl on it, a low, sultry purr. The tone of voice you usually said good boy or beg for me in. You meant it as a joke, a demeaning one, a call back to Tony’s patronizing snub.

Instead, you saw something liquify in Loki’s eyes. That same look he got when his cock was in your hands, or your teeth were sinking into his skin.

And being yourself, you capitalized on it.

“Do you like that?” you cooed, arching an eyebrow. “Do you want to be my pretty girl, Loki? My good little obedient princess?”

Oh, you had him cornered. His bottom lip trembled with thinly held control, his eyes darting back and forth, warring with himself.

You reached up, pulling him back down, so that he kneeled before her. You locked his gaze with her own.

“If you want to be my good girl,” you said gently, “You can.”

Loki shuddered, and slowly, his shoulders began to slough down and round off. His frame turned slighter, more slender, and his chest swelled. He was daintier, but still with the shoulder-length choppy hair and wild silver eyes. He was no he at all. She was Loki. A tall, wiry, masc Loki, with a dripping mess between her legs.

Loki whimpered as you laughed aloud, running your hands through that silky black hair. “Oh, you pretty girl, so many tricks up your sleeve! Why don’t you strip for me, so we can see what pretty trick you have up your pants.”

You had never seen Loki undress so quickly.

And so, here you were, Loki breathless and growling beneath you, your fingers sliding into Loki’s slippery, throbbing mess. You curled your fingers acutely, and Loki bucked up into your hand.

“Naughty,” you cooed. “Bad girls don’t get to cum. Stay still.”

“Please, love,” Loki begged, her cheeks flushed red. “Please let me cum.”

“Behave,” you scolded. “And maybe I’ll consider it.”

Loki let out the prettiest keening sound you’d ever heard. You giggled, leaning forward, wrapping your lips around Loki’s pulsating clit. You sucked, hard, and she moaned again, her legs clamping around your head.

“Is this the insecurity you were dealing with, pet?” you asked, stroking the pad of your thumb over Loki’s sensitive, aching clit. “Were you lost?”

She nodded, eyes screwed shut with pleasure and humiliation. “I wasn’t sure how you’d —fuck— react.”

You smiled, running your hand flat up her belly, cupping a tender breast, and squeezing. “Pretty girl. I’d never want you to be anything less than yourself.”

Her eyes opened, beautiful and silver as always. Loki smiled up at you, holding your hand over her breast. “Sweet love,” she murmured.

“Besides,” you gave her a sharklike smile. “Now I get to fuck you. Spread your legs.”

With a whimper, she complied.

#loki is an avenger #loki x reader #loki smut #loki is genderfluid #loki laufeyson #loki x you #loki fanfic #loki x y/n #loki #mcu loki #smut #dom reader #sub loki

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harmonic-intervention · 23 days ago

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And your sad blue eyes, like mine

When the call came, Buck was already staring at his phone.

He was also about two months pregnant, but that was beside the point.

Got another fix-it. I am joining the mpreg train.

Word count: 11,104 - getting back together, double mpreg, helicopter crash

Excerpt:

When the call came, Buck was staring at his phone. He knew that Eddie and Hen were throwing disapproving glances his way, but that hardly deterred him. He'd gotten worse about this in the last couple of weeks.

But who could blame him? After the news, the desire to reach out to Tommy had increased tenfold.

Pregnant. About two months, now. He'd found out just last week, after he had felt sick and on a hair trigger with his emotions. He'd gone to the doctor, and she had told him that there was no doubt - he was pregnant.

Which caused a whole new set of problems. Namely, he and the baby's other father were broken up! Had been for pretty much the duration of the pregnancy.

Because Buck could guess when it'd happened - the last time they'd had sex, because they'd had it all night, multiple times, and it fit with the timeline.

Buck had known he had the carrier gene, but he'd been on birth control. Only when he'd told his doctor which one, she'd told him that these had recently been proven to fail after a short while of use.

So, here Buck was. Single, miserable, and pregnant. Staring at his ex-boyfriend's contact as if that would give him the strength to make the call. And he did have to make it. Tommy deserved to know, and the kid deserved to have two parents. And if Tommy didn't want to get involved, well then ... Buck had enough love for five parents.

He was going through what to say when he finally did get the courage to call, like perhaps hey guess what, my birth control failed. Or I'm pregnant and it's yours. Or guess I'm not the only one who's gonna call you daddy now.

Only before he could make a choice, his screen changed.

TOMMY flashed on the screen. Buck had removed the little heart he'd put next to his name and had to force himself not to put it back.

He stared at it. For a moment, he couldn't move. For a moment, he was tempted to let it ring.

He'd been waiting for this for two months. He'd been agonizing over having to call Tommy for the past week. And, let's be real, before that.

He accepted the call. Raised the phone to his ear.

"Hey?" he rasped, and really? Hey?

"Buck."

Buck's hair stood on end. His blood felt frozen in his veins. That was Tommy, alright, but he sounded- there was something wrong, and not just because the word Buck sounded wrong coming from him. He was breathing heavily, and his voice was faint. There was a cough, and it sounded wet and painful.

"Tommy? He-hey, hey what's going on?"

What if he's in trouble and needs my help? Buck had said that to Eddie a couple of weeks ago.

"I-uh, I'm kinda not doing too well," Tommy said, laughed a bit but it turned into another cough, then a pained groan. "Dropped. I- I'm stuck here, I think. Can't really move."

"What do you mean, where are you?"

"I don't really know. Not where I'm supposed to be. Also kinda- think I'm bleeding out a bit."

[continue on ao3]

#bucktommy #tevan #kinley #bucktommy fic #tommy kinard #evan buckley #mpreg #harmonic writings #harmonic posts

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jewishgirlrevolt · 1 month ago

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Honestly, if I were an exec at this point I would be thinking about how long the show should go on. Maybe give it one more season with a clear indication that there should be satisfying resolutions for everyone.

Bobby finds his niche which lets him retire peacefully, while Athena takes a job at the police academy. Either the fire academy as its like chief, or principal. OR he decides to be the next firechief. Actually if Athena and Bobby both decide to head up the two academies that would be very funny.

Hen is promoted to Captain, or Karen gets an offer for a full-time tenure track position at Cal Poly while Hen gets an offer to head up another firehouse in the same area if she's not captain of the 118. Or Karen gets a full-time job at Cal Tech and Hen stays at the 118 or gets to captain a firehouse a little closer.

Given his years of experience, Chim gets an offer to head up the Firefighter training academy. Maddie and Chim welcome a healthy baby boy named Kevin Daniel Buckley Han. Sue retires, Josh is promoted, and Maddie becomes Josh's right-hand woman. Bonus points if we see that kid that Chim mentored work at dispatch.

Could also make for a couple of scenes of Chim and Athena both ordering cadets around or talking about silly things cadets do.

Eddie Diaz reconciles with his son and agrees that unless he's serious with someone, really serious he will not introduce them to Chris, who makes it clear he doesn't need a mom. Maybe last half of the last season Eddie meets a nice woman also with a kid, younger than Chris, and they agree to go slow. Bonus if this woman is also a widow. they have things in common. But they've both worked through their grief and just trying to figure out how to be happy. They're dating. But not dating. Just getting to know each other and then maybe Eddie is the one who asks, hey maybe we can move forward. They do not meet at a call. They have some kind of meet cute at Karaoke trivia.

Now this one should be obvious. Buck and Tommy get back. together, and really work on each other and on the relationship. Helicopter crash or no copter crashes, we need Buck to fight for what he wants. Tommy learns to accept love and family and be vulnerable with others. End of the series they get married or at least move in together. Bonus points if they go house hunting together and we have a montage of everyone helping them move in together, or they have the final 118 bbq at Tommy and Buck's house. Buck decides to take a sabbatical from work to get/ finish his college degree because he realizes he does want to be a fire captain one day.

IDK I'm a sucker for a full-circle ending.

#bucktommy #madney #henren #bathena #hen wilson #evan buckley #bobby nash #howard han #maddie buckley han #tommy kinard #eddie diaz #if you don't ship it that's ok you don't need to interract #911 abc #I'm a sucker for a happy well done ending #911 where's the job application for the writer's room? You literally cannot do any worse at this point

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lyjen · 8 months ago

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Under Attack

Summary: Dropped out of high school, joining the army to follow her brother’s footsteps. When the group of soldiers gets attacked while they are flying in the helicopter, (y/n) is the one to try and get them out of the situation. But when they’re celebrating the 4th of july, it brings her right back to that day on the field.

Request by: @shauna-carsley

✨My requests are open! You can send them in by sending me a chat or in “ask me a question” ✨

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

______

Afghanistan, 2015

With the sound of the blades of the helicopter slicing through the air, (Y/n) let the scissors slide through the fabric of the soldiers t-shirt.

They were on 10.000 feet high in the air, flying back to their homebase as they picked up wounded and hurt soldiers that needed treatment back on base.

“Base, this is actual. We’re ten clicks out heading back with wounded. Prep the med tents.” The voice of the helicopter pilot sounded through the radio.

(Y/n) placed a piece of gauze on the wound and grabbed the tape from the bag. She held the tape between her fingers as she took a length and tore it off by placing her teeth on the tape and giving it a pull. She could hear her boyfriend grinning by the way she struggled with tearing the tape. “Something funny Buckley?” she asked as she quickly connected the tape with the soldiers skin and the gauze so she could secure the wound from getting dirty and protect it.

“Just admiring your work” Evan smiled as he gave her another glance.

Evan and (Y/n) were together since high school, he was a senior while she was a junior. He would be the one who always got into trouble, which made him a walking red flag. But they became inseparable as they started hanging out more and more together.

Her brother was already in the army, and she looked up at him. She really did.

One day she decided to turn the wheel, and join the army when she was in senior year, she was already getting bad grades, and she already had problems with her parents. So why not make them more angry by dropping out of school and joining the army with your boyfriend, who was also her best friend.

She was now a medic in the army, and helped treat the wounded just like her older brother did.

She focussed herself on the last tape she needed to connect on the gunshot wound of the soldier, she was alerted by a loud beeping sound.

“Incoming!” a terrified voice called through the small space of the helicopter they were in. A rocket had been aimed at the helicopter. The chopper makes a hard left turn, trying to avoid the explosive they had fired. But the chopper was too slow.

The vehicle they were in started to spin as they received a hard bang on the side and the chopper started to fill the space with smoke.

The helicopter made a nose dive, crashing right into the desert sand and they came to a stop and her vision went black.

A loud frequency sound through (Y/n)’s ears as she slowly gained back consciousness. A groan left her lips as she sat down on the floor with her back pinned against the inside of the helicopter. When her hearing went back to normal, she could hear bullets hitting the metal sides of the helicopter, multiple times per second.

She quickly scanned the small space she was in, she was on the floor, with her back against the side of the chopper. “Break, break, break” she spoke into her radio as she pressed the button. “We’re pinned down. Taking fire.” her voice panted as adrenaline started to build up inside her body.

“Two clicks north of our last reported position.” she groaned as she pushed herself up to her feet. (Y/n) moved inside the helicopter, patting the pilots on their shoulder to hear if they were alive and okay. As she heard them groan, she knew enough.

She turned around to face Evan, who was still in his seat.

“Buckley!” She grabbed his upper arm and pushed and pulled him back and forth. “Buck wake up!” she called out again.

It felt weird for her to call him Buckley or Buck. Normally she would call him Evan. She knew the majority of the people called him Buck, and he preferred that. But since she was the only one calling him Evan, apart from his sister and parents, it was like a nickname for him.

Evan’s eyes opened slowly as she patted his cheeks and in his reflex his hand shot up to grab her wrist. “We’re under attack. Come on.”

“We gotta get everyone behind those rocks over there.” She pointed to the rocks that were lightened up slightly by the lights of the helicopter. “Yeah. Copy.” Evan absently said as he realized what had happened just a few minutes ago. Evan was sure he had some bruised and maybe some broken ribs, but he was okay.

(Y/n) grabbed her rifle, which hung on her back and slung it over her shoulder as Evan unbuckled from his helicopter seat belt. “You ready?” She looked Evan in his ocean blue eyes, and her heart made a jump as his eyes connected with hers.

“Ready” he said, determined as he threw his rifle over his shoulder. (Y/n)’s foot stamped against the crushed and broken side door of the helicopter. With one hard kick her foot the door broke open, smooth as butter.

She stepped outside as she aimed the rifle towards the attackers so Evan could jump out after her, with also his rifle in his arms.

“Let’s go!” she said as loudly as she could so her voice would overtake the sounds of the bullets which were swinging around her head.

In order to get more of their people out. She needed someone over at the rocks to cover her, so she could get people out. Some bodies and some wounded but alive. She couldn’t live with herself as people died in the helicopter and their families didn’t have a body to bury.

She wanted to bring them home.

They speeded across the open field as they shot their way through. Evan and (Y/n) dropped down behind the rocks as they made it to the otherside of the field.

“Hey!” (Y/n) spoke up. “Cover me.” she commanded Evan, it wasn't a question. “Copy!”

Evan leans over the rocks, and starts shooting at the enemies.

(Y/n) reaches the crashed helicopter again, as bullets were flying around and hit the side of the helicopter she was passing by as fast as she could. She crouched down and swung her rifle back on her back. When she reached the nose of the helicopter and made contact with one of the pilots in the cockpit. “Okay, time to get out of there. Let’s go.” she said as she tapped his shoulder through the broken door of the helicopter.

“Come on.” she grabbed his arm as she put it around her neck so he could lean on her. A groan fell past his lips as his body dropped down to the ground and he grabbed his arm. “Hey hey! Can you move?” she asked as she tried to get his attention, as he was currently focussed on the pain he felt.

“Yeah.” he panted.

“Get over there with Buckley, I will cover you!” She said as she grabbed her rifle from her back again and started shooting back at the shots which were clearly aimed on her.

The man she helped get out of the helicopter ran as fast as he could to the rocks where Evan was shooting.

“Diaz, I’m stuck!” The other pilot called out. She shot a few more bullets. “I got you!” she said as she made her way towards the other side of the chopper. “My leg!” he groaned as he reached out for it. “The bone broke through” she concluded as she took a quick look at his leg. The bone broke through his skin, snapped in two. ”I got to get a tourniquet on it.” she said as she looked around for something to use as a tourniquet. “This will do.” she gasped as she cut a large piece of seatbelt off with her knife and binded it above the man’s wound as tight as she could so the blood flow to his leg was cut off.

“I have got to get out.” a voice from the back sounded through the narrow space of the helicopter. “Norwahl! Stand down!” she warned him, but he got out of the helicopter as if he was just going to take a peaceful stroll. “Fuck.” she whispered to herself as she just finished up tightening the tourniquet and saw the other soldier walking along the side of the chopper.

“Norwahl!” She called out his name repeatedly as she ran around the chopper to reach her teammate. Her eyes fell on him, as she could see blood splashing from his chest into the air. He falls down on his knees, while the enemies are still targeting Norwahl and (Y/n) now.

Bullets kept on flying around her head, as she pushed Norwahl to the ground and Evan kept on shooting to cover them.

(Y/n) puts his arm over her shoulder. “Hold on Norwahl!” she spoke as she helped him back onto his legs and he leaned on (Y/n) to reach the rocks again. But when she reaches the rocks. A shocking pain ran through her right leg.

A scream fell off her lips as her leg fell down to the ground as if hands came out of the floor and dragged her right leg down to the ground. “(Y/n)!” Evan called out her name with a terrified sound.

When that scream fell off her lips, he could feel his heart dropping down to the ground.

She had to hold on. She had to fight, and drag herself to safety. She pushed her hands into the sand as she pushed herself up on her left leg. She limped towards the rocks as she let herself fall down against the rocks.

“Diaz? You okay?” Evan tried to remain professional. Keeping his emotions to himself as he asked that question. A groan fell past her lips. “Yes. I’m okay.” she panted as she squinted her eyes at the torturing pain her leg was giving her.

“Switch with me Diaz!” Evan commanded his girlfriend.

She crawled towards Evan, and when she was on her stomach next to him, she swung the rifle from her back towards her chest.

They were switching roles.

But when Evan started running across the open field and towards the helicopter, a grenade launcher launched its explosive towards the helicopter and landed a few feet beside Evan’s body.

Evan’s body connected with the helicopter, as if he got pushed in the back. Evan groaned as he rolled onto his stomach, trying to stand up again. He coughed, his ears were ringing of the loud boom when the pin was pulled from the launcher.

The man in front of the chopper needed his help.

The soldier who was dead had to be brought back to his family. They needed to bury his body, not an empty basket. Evan grabbed his arms and slung his limp body over his shoulder and ran.

He ran so hard he could almost feel his feet slipping away from underneath his body.

Evan placed the body of the deceased soldier on the floor against the rocks and slung his rifle back over his shoulder and helped (y/n) with shooting.

“Shit!” (Y/n) said as her rifle refused, she pulled the trigger a few more times, but nothing. ”I'm blank!” she spoke as she got down and pushed her back against the rocks again. Her hand traced down to her leg as she got her gun out of its holder. It wasn’t good enough, but at least it would buy them some time.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Evan cursed as his rifle did the same thing after he shot a few more bullets.

That was it. That was their story.

The bullets were still flying around their heads. He leaned with his back against the rocks, just as (Y/n) did. He could hear her cries, the one that broke him, the one which made his heart drop down in his chest.

Her leg hurts. She saved every single one of them, only to see them die just minutes after the disaster. She squeezed her eyes shut as tears were flowing over her cheeks. She didn’t want to die. Not like this.

Evan panted. With every explosion, every gunshot he could feel (Y/n) moving closer.

He grabbed her hand, and let their fingers intertwine with each other. He held on as tightly as he could and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

“I love you (Y/n), I want you to know that.” At that moment, she only wanted to cry more. This sounded like a goodbye. “No. Don’t do that.” she said as she shook her head. “Our story doesn’t end like this.” she continued as she tightened her grip on his hand, like it was her mission to push all of the blood out of his hand. “I’m afraid it does.” Evan said as he looked her in the eye.

But not even a second after that, a helicopter flew by and started raining fire. They were coming to rescue them. Evan looked up at the sky as a smile spread over his face. “Tell me you love me in a few hours again, Buckley.”

______

“Hey! How was your appointment?” Evan said as (y/n) opened the front door and limped inside.

She shrugged her shoulders as she closed the door behind her. “It was fine. I guess..” she sighed. It wasn’t her best day. She had hoped for better news from her physiotherapist, but unfortunately he didn’t have that for her.

“Are you sure? Because the way you just told me, doesn’t really make it sound fine to me.” Evan said. As he folded his arms over one another and pressed his lower back against the kitchen counter. She really didn’t want to talk about it, which became clear to Evan as she let her keys slide onto the dining table and dropped her bag on the flat surface loudly.

“Hey what’s up?” Evan asked as he could see her face going from a slightly sad one morphing into an annoyed one and she tried to walk away from the conversation.

She stopped in her tracks as her name fell once more off of Evan’s lips. “I really don’t want to talk about it, Buck.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Because I do want to talk about it.” he told her.

(Y/n) knew she couldn’t talk him out of that thought. Whenever Evan had a goal, he was determined to reach it no matter what. And right here, right now the goal was: getting (y/n) to tell him what was on her chest before she could burst and fall back into a dark place.

Her body spun around as she rested her hands onto her waist. “It’s just… my physiotherapist.. he told me that the chances of my kneecap healing are low. Like.. really low. He was talking about fifteen to twenty percent.”

She pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead as she shook her head. She couldn’t believe it. After all the time and effort she spent on physiotherapy, little exercises she had gotten as homework from the therapist and this is what came out. All her hard work felt like nothing now that he told her the odds of the further healing process.

“Wait what?” Evan pushed himself off the kitchen counter he was leaning against.

“My kneecap isn’t healing anymore.” she sighed as she started fidgeting with her fingers, something she always did whenever she was anxious. The bullet she received during saving her team, ended up fracturing her entire kneecap.

Evan moved closer, moving along the kitchen island until he met his girlfriend who was standing a few feet next to the dining table. He laid his hands on her upper arm as he tried to comfort her. “So I’ll probably be stuck with this stupid brace for god knows how long.” She pointed at her hand at her right leg with the brace secured to her knee..

Evan sighed. He didn’t know what to do or to say. He had been there for her these past months, years, just like he promised her on the side of that hospital bed back in Afghanistan. “Come here.” Evan said as he opened his arms and pulled (y/n) to his chest. He folded his arms around her body, he was almost like a human blanket.

She laid the side of her head on his chest as he let his head rest onto her head. His hand rubbed her back, following her spine up and down.

The sound of his beating heart made her body calm down and her anxiousness leaving her body. “You know, a low chance doesn’t mean that there isn’t a chance at all. There’s still hope.” Evan tried to make the best out of it, and pressed a kiss on the top of her hair.

Her arms tightened around his body, it felt comforting standing like this. No flying bullets, no alarms sounding, it was just them. “I know.. it’s just.. hard to be positive after all the time and patience I have put into it.” She mumbled into his chest.

It had been months, years, since the bullet had crushed her kneecap and destroyed her entire career along with it. A lot has changed over the years. They left the army, both of them, (Y/n) because of medical reasons, and Evan wanted to support her and be with her. Evan searched for a new purpose and started with the fire academy, while (y/n) had to take a break from all the action and started applying for jobs that didn’t require putting too much pressure on her leg. So she was now working as a receptionist at an office in Los Angeles.

She didn’t like it, sitting and waiting around. But she didn’t have a choice. Not if her leg was torturing her like this.

“You know, I know I said we would go out today. But, I’ve got a proposal.” Evan spoke up as he looked around the space they were in. “What if.. instead of going out, we did a movie night, hmm?” Evan asked.

She pushed her head off his chest and pressed her chin into it instead, looking up as her eyes met Evan’s. “Are you sure? I mean.. It’s the fourth of july?” she asked him with a soft voice. Evan nodded his head, “Yeah.. It has been a while since we did that, and besides I really don’t have the energy to party right now”.

A smile spread widely on (y/n)’s face. “Ugh, good. Because I’m exhausted.” she sighed as Evan pressed a soft warm kiss to her forehead.

“I’ll make the popcorn” Evan said as he loosened his grip, and moved his hands to her waist. “No you’re not.” (Y/n) spoke up. An offended look flooded over his face, as he furrowed his eyebrows. She straightens her spine as she smiles at Evan’s reaction. “You always burn the popcorn. Let me do it. You can choose the movie.”

Evan looked up at the ceiling, pretending to think about his answer. But as soon as his eyes fell back on hers, he gave her a small smile. “Hmm.. okay.” She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek as she wriggled herself out of Evan’s grip and proceeded to walk towards the kitchen.

Microwaved popcorn, it wasn’t that difficult to make, but somehow Evan succeeded in burning the popcorn multiple times. She opened the hot package of popcorn she had just microwaved, filled a bowl with it and added some melted butter to it.

She grabbed the bowl and walked towards the living room, “We’re going to watch Mean girls!” Evan said as he leaned forwards on the sofa with the TV remote in his hand. A chuckle left her lips, “After all these years, you still know how to surprise me-”

Her head shot to the right as a loud bang entered her ears. She was taken by surprise, she was so shocked that the glass bowl she was holding in her hands dropped to the ground and fell into a hundred little pieces.

The colorful fireworks burned onto her retina, as she squeezed her eyes shut when another bang roared in her ears.

“We’re pinned down. Taking fire.”

Her heart thudded in her chest as her hands were starting to tremble. “Woah, you okay?” Evan’s muffled voice asked when he took place in front of her, which she didn’t even notice.

“Buckley!”

Her breathing started to fasten as she looked with panicked eyes through the window and flashes from that night flashed before her eyes. Short, shallow breaths were leaving her lungs. She was terrified.

“Buck wake up!”

“We’re under attack. Come on.”

It’s all coming back to her now, that night she wanted so desperately to forget, but her mind clearly didn’t and couldn’t. Tears were starting to fall down her cheeks as she was still focussed on the fireworks outside.

“(Y/n)!” Evan’s voice sounded over the radio as a scream fell off her lips.

Breathing was hard, it felt as if she had just run the Los Angeles marathon. She brought her hand up to her chest as she tried to take deeper breaths. “(Y/n)!?” Evan’s voice sounded as he tried to figure out what was happening to her. Evan had called out multiple questions to her, that didn’t seem to come through.

But when Evan wanted to reach out his hand, to comfort her and try to help her, she lashed his hand away and stumbled backwards. Her vision was starting to become blurry, she blinked to try and gain back her vision, but nothing worked.

She couldn’t hear any words Evan was asking or telling her, she couldn’t even read his face.

It became harder and harder to breathe, as if her airways were being pushed together and the trachea became smaller with every breath she took. As another bang sounded dull through her ears, she ran.

She ran towards the first door she saw, the closest one of them all.

Their bedroom door.

As she was running, another firework exploded in the air. The explosion made her right knee feel weak and broken again, it made her limp her way towards the door. It was almost like the bullet hit her kneecap all over again.

With a bang she closed the door shut behind her and locked it. A horrifying scream came out her mouth as she cried. Before she could even process what she was doing, her hand lashed out and multiple photo frames hit the floor.

(Y/n) pushed her back against the concrete wall, as she slid down to the floor while she could still hear and see the flashes of that night back in Afghanistan roaring in the back of her mind.

Tear after tears were falling down her cheek as her boyfriend called out her name on the other side of the door.

______

“Hey, thanks for coming so fast.”

Evan opened the front door of their apartment, almost getting pushed to the side as Eddie barged in. “I didn’t know what else to do.” Evan said as he closed the front door.

“Where is she, Buck?” Eddie asked his brother-in-law as their eyes connected.

“Bedroom, I tried to talk with her.. But it seems like she’s.. not here, mentally?” Evan asked himself if what he was saying made any sense. Eddie placed his hands on his hips and nodded. “Okay, I will talk to her.”

Evan nodded, as he ran a hand through his hair and he let out a deep sigh. While Eddie turned away from Evan and walked towards the bedroom door.

Eddie gently let his knuckles knock on the wooden door as he tried to catch his breath. He didn’t have the time to wait on the elevator to reach the ground floor, so he chose to run up the stairs to the fifth level.

“(Y/n)? Are you in there?” Eddie’s voice carefully asked, as he panted and let his hand rest on the doorframe while he let his other arm rest against the door. He waited a few seconds for a response.

Silence.

“It’s me. Can I come in?” He asked as he tried to open the door, which was locked. “Shit.” He cursed as he tried to turn the doorknob, but it didn’t move. “(Y/n).. please.” Defeated he lets his fist fall against the door.

Eddie could hear her crying through the door, the ones that made his heart ache.

“(Y/n) stay away from the door okay? I’m coming in.” Eddie said as he pushed himself off the door and walked backwards to let him create more momentum. He kicked the door in with his right leg, and it swung open.

His eyes scanned the room he had just kicked open. “(Y/n)?” his worried voice filled the room. He could hear the sobs falling from her lips, when his eyes finally found his sister, he rushed towards her.

With her legs up to her chest locked into place with her arms and her head dangling between her thighs, she cried.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Eddie asked calmly as he let himself fall down onto his knees next to her. She shook her head as sobs fell off her lips and slowly looked in front of her. “We’re under attack.”

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows, “What? No, you’re safe.” he reassured her.

She shook her head. “They’re out there, I’ve heard them.” A sigh left Eddie’s mouth as he realized what was going on here, he let his hand rest carefully onto her shoulder. When his hand connected with her skin, her eyes shot at her brother’s.

“It’s okay” He gave her shoulder a slight, soft squeeze. ”You’re having a panic attack.” Eddie concluded.

“No. That can’t be. I’m.. I’m not crazy.” She said as a tear traced down her face, when she tried to calm herself down as she huffed out oxygen. “It’s okay.. we’re going to get through this.” Eddie says as he grabs both her hands, and looks her in the eyes.

“Take deep, slow breaths with me. Okay?” His thumbs rubbed over the back of her hands as she closed her eyes and copied her brother’s breathing.

“Good. That’s it.” He supported her as she cried through her attempts to take deep slow breaths.

When her breathing calmed down, Eddie sat down next to her, folding his legs over each other. “Now, you want to tell me what happened?” Eddie carefully asked (y/n).

She remained silent as she looked at her legs and fidgeted with her fingers. “I’m not leaving until you tell me, you know that.” he reminded her.

(Y/n) let her head fall against the wall so she was looking up at the ceiling as she shook her head. She knew that Eddie was going to sit there for another twenty four hours if he had to, maybe even days. And if she wouldn’t talk, he’d find a way to get her talking. He may be a firefighter just as Evan, but he could just be as much as an interrogator.

“I was making popcorn.. and when I walked back, I heard fireworks.”

“And the fireworks triggered something.. I get it.” Eddie finished her story. She nodded and a sigh left her mouth. “Fireworks and explosives don’t sound the same. But somehow.. I was back again. In Afghanistan. With a damn bullet in my leg.” her voice was on the edge of breaking down, it was shaking as she tried to stop crying, holding back her tears.

A loud silence sounded through the bedroom.

“I’ve had them too.” Eddie confessed. He could feel his sister’s eyes drawn to him. “Panic attacks, flashbacks..”

“You never told me that.” she reacted. Normally Eddie would be an open book to his sister, and yes she knew that of course he would have secrets. But she wasn’t exactly expecting him to keep something like this from her.

“I know.. I should’ve told you. But the point is.. I told myself I was fine, until I had a panic attack in the middle of a store. And I ended up in the ER with a cardiologist.” Eddie told her as he didn’t look her in the eye.

“ I wish I could promise you that it will get better. But it won’t.” he tells her as he looks her in the eye now. “We chose back then, for that life, for the consequences. And we may as well just have to live with it.”

She knew exactly where she signed up for when she dropped out of high school. Her mom and dad asked her a hundred times if she had thought this through.

“But please, when this happens again. Accept the hands we’re holding out, to keep you from drowning.” Eddie begged his sister. “That’s what you had then, and that’s what you have right now. No one wants to see anyone suffer like that.”

Eddie held out his hand with his palm up towards his sister. She took a glance at the hand he was holding out, and laid her hand on top of his. Her head turned to his as he gave her a small smile.

“Come here.” Eddie says as he opened his other arm and moved the one her hand was resting on towards her back, as she moved hers behind his. “You can always talk to me.” Eddie whispered as he felt her arms tightening around his back.

#911 #911 fox #911 abc #911 imagine #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley imagine #evan buckley x reader #evanbuckley #imagine #eddiediaz #eddie diaz

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disheveledtranquility · 2 months ago

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I'm gonna call it: Sleeper is in this one. Just under different circumstances than the comics.

Eddie and the symbiote gets captured (the whole 'area 51' joke from the second movie) and they're separated while on the run.

Eddie starts feeling drained, exhausted, sick, and hungry like he first did when he first merged with the symbiote. But Eddie knows he's alone now, truly. Alone and on the run by himself.

They're both being hunted, both looking for each other. But Eddie is at a disadvantage. The symbiote knew this.

This can go one of two ways: something happened, and the symbiote failed to inform Eddie, thinking it was the best choice given the circumstances. And the symbiote growing inside him is slowly gaining enough awareness to protect him. To keep him safe until they can reunite later.

Or Eddie was told before the separation, and Eddie spends his time on the run trying to keep both him and the new symbiote safe while trying not to die in the process.

I'm hoping I'm right because of this part in the trailer here:

This scene looked off to me. Eddie's symbiote is stark black, and even with the lighting, the symbiote tendril shown seems more desaturated to me. Which makes me think this isn't his symbiote. Also, Eddie's reaction right before reaching out to it:

At this point, this isn't how Eddie is going to be reacting to his symbiote. And in these quick few frames he's almost shaking, hesitant. It's after the helicopter crash and Eddie looks healed.

So what healed him? And who is he reaching out to?

Little Sleeper, who he gets to meet for the first time. Sleeper has bits of yellow/gold and red, so the hue would fit.

Because another point in this scene snippet jumped out at me. After the crash. Eddie hunched inside but clearly not dead. But in pain and clearly emotional.

That helicopter is obliterated, having crashed from the sky with him in it. And there is literally no one else in sight. Not even human remains. So how did he make it out, virtually unscathed?

Maybe this is where Sleeper is strong enough to make an appearance, and to assure Eddie that he's not alone, that he's still protected. That together they'll find Eddie's 'other'.

Please if we can't have Dylan can we have the other Symbrock child, I need the world to know they have canon children.

Sleeper may be just offspring from Eddie's symbiote that Eddie helped nurture, but the fact that the symbiote wanted to raise it to be good, with Eddie, fucking sends me into outer space.

Would have loved the hybrid human/symbiote child Dylan who has the power to control symbiotes, but since this is the last movie...I'mma just cry to myself. Please give us Sleeper. Let Sleeper be the loving child of theirs.

Plus..."we have something he needs"

'we'

Not I, as in Knull wants to devore the symbiotes to take back the power. We. Eddie and his symbiote. It's specific.

Sleeper ends up being hella powerful. Enough that it can exist without a live host. Eddie being able to bond with one of Knull's symbiotes and form a mutual emotional bond with it to create such a being ( two when you count Dylan ) is a fucking threat on every level.

I mean, why is the separation of Eddie and his symbiote the theme here?

"This world can't survive if you stay together."

"If Venom lives, everything will end."

'Venom' of course, being Eddie and the symbiote's merged name. Which takes on a WHOLE new meaning when you think about the fact that Toxin is telling that scientist that if Eddie and the symbiote remain together...Knull is going to send that army. Because Knull doesn't like a good threat to his kingdom. And considering Eddie's symbiote betrayed its race just to be with him...

No one wants to deal with what Venom (Eddie and his symbiote) can create. Too powerful to control and too fearful of the possibilities. But that doesn't stop them and I'm really hoping I'm right.

I could ted talk about this all day.

PLEASE SONY. I'M IN YOUR WALLS AT NIGHT.

#symbrock #venom #sleeper #venom the last dance #i just want to see their children ok #venom 3

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astroboots · 1 year ago

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EVERY YOU EVERY ME #14

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You try to move on after the Universe has been saved.

Word count: 4,700

Warning: Angst

Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist | Astroboot’s Masterlist | thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist

[Previous] [Next]

You're standing in the middle of your old apartment.

The same apartment that had a helicopter crash into it and left nothing but rubble, ash and melted cement in its wake. Except now it's restored, like nothing ever happened.

Your rickety dining table sits in the middle of the room, propped up by a hardcover book to make up for the fact that one leg is crooked. Your tiny double bed with your lumpy mattress is pushed up against the wall. The usual piles of clean and dirty laundry indiscriminately mixed together sits unattended on top of the unmade covers.

You don't understand.

Why is it all back to normal?

You shake your head, snapping yourself out of it.

Miguel… You need to get back to him and you don't have time for this right now.

"Lyla," you summon. A warm ping vibrates against your inner wrist as Lyla appears. "Take me back to the void."

Lyla shakes her head firmly. "I'm sorry I can't do that."

"What do you mean? Of course you can, you've brought us there twice. You did it when Miguel commanded you."

She peers up at you through her pink heart-shaped glasses, with a solemn look in her holographic eyes.

"The first time was a miscalculation. The second was to eliminate the continued threat to your life."

Her words stop you cold. 'Continued threat...' Is she referring to Miguel?

"Lyla, please. Stop messing around. Take me back to Miguel."

Lyla's eyes go blank, no longer the flippant expression you are so used to seeing.

"Request denied. My programming does not allow me to expose you to danger."

"He's going to die if we don't do something Lyla!" You shout at her.

There is a tremor in your hand. Your nerves are shot, exhausted and tired from everything that has happened in the last 24 hours and you can feel the tears pushing up against your throat.

"Isn't it part of your protocol to protect him?!"

"I was built to protect you. My primary directive is to make sure you're safe above all else. That is my purpose."

She recites the words as if she's reading from a manual. It's flat and emotionless in a way you've never known Lyla to be before. Like the line is hardwired into the very core of her basic coding. There are no funny jokes. No sass.

"Lyla, please," you beg.

She doesn't answer you. That same impassive expression as before is still on her face.

"Lyla..." you try again.

You scramble to think of your options. To devise a plan B. But to your horror, you can’t think of anything.

What are you meant to do? You’re not a super genius who can build source code out of thin air that can break the laws of physics. You have no superpowers. No magic that allows you to travel to other dimensions.

The only thing you know how to do is file claim insurance applications. You’re useless.

There's nothing to be done.

It's over.

Your legs give in from the oppressive weight of your realization. You slump to the floor, unable to hold yourself together as the hard wooden floor hits your knees. You fold in two, hunched over the floor and you let the ache inside your chest break and pour over and you cry.

When you come to some time later, you find yourself curled up on the floor. You don't know how long you must've been crying for. But it must’ve been long enough for you to have cried yourself to exhaustion and slipped into unconsciousness.

Turning onto your back, you stare up at the ceiling, shivering from the cold breeze of the evening coming through the window.

Your limbs are cramping from exhaustion. You're dehydrated. Mouth dry and eyes crusted with dried tears. There's a deep-seated headache burrowing into your skull. It's a struggle for you to get up from the floor into a seated position, as you properly take in your surroundings.

At first glance, this version of your apartment looks identical to yours, but on closer inspection there are some stark differences.

By the window, there are black out curtains hanging from the ceiling to allow for sleep-ins during daylight hours.

On your bed, amongst the mountain piles of laundry strewn haphazardly, there are items you don’t recognize. Oversized hoodies that are big enough to fit a bear. Male sweatpants. Socks so big they look like they're Christmas stockings.

Walking over to the kitchen area, there's a distinct lack of coffee. It's been replaced by expired Reese's Peanut Butter cups, milk duds, and Hershey bars that fill every corner of your kitchen cupboards to the brim, stuffed haphazardly on the upper shelves that you could never reach. They have even made their way into your nightstand and stuffed and hidden between books on the bookshelf.

Lyla doesn't even have to tell you where you are. You already know.

This is your home. In your other self's dimension. It belongs to Miguel's nena.

Miguel sent you here, the closest universe he knew of that was identical to yours, so that you could live out your days in safety, without him.

Fucking idiot.

This is not what you wanted.

Days pass.

It's an odd and empty existence, you've beaten the impossible odds and won against the universe itself and made it out alive. Yet you're not sure that anything about this truly qualifies as a victory.

For all you know, the world that is your home may have been destroyed.

After all that's what Stark said: there is no guarantee that just because you left, everything would go back to normal.

And who are you to argue with the (second) smartest man on earth?

There's no way of you knowing what the outcome was, and Lyla refuses to transport you out of this current dimension.

You spend most of your days curled into a ball in bed unable to summon the strength to keep yourself upright or awake for more than an hour at a time, haunted by the knowledge that your escape from your death might have doomed trillions to theirs.

In the hours in between, when that inescapable guilt doesn't eat into your mind, the only thing you are left with is replaying the moments of your life in the past three months.

It flits through your closed eyes like an old film reel and in every one of those moments, Miguel is there, reminding you of what you have now lost.

You feel hollowed out, scraped out and empty like there's nothing inside. The only time you manage to feel anything that resembles an emotion is when you clutch onto whatever piece of oversized clothing that once belonged to Miguel. The only physical trace you have to prove to yourself that he existed and it's not just some fantastical made up story in your mind.

Miguel once told you that anyone who gets lost in the void gets erased. Their very existence scrubbed from the records of the world. Does the fact that you can still remember him mean that he's still there? And if so, how much longer will you be able to mourn him before he's faded entirely in that space. Before your very memory of him and the love you have that sits inside you with nowhere to go is gone too?

Nothing about this feels like a happy ending.

In the first few days, you don't leave the house. You tell yourself that it's better that way. Now that Miguel is no longer here, the idea of walking out in into open streets in broad daylight seems strange to you.

Lyla tries to tempt you with exotic holidays.

“Bali, India! The world is your oyster, we can fly out first class tonight and do an Eat Pray Love for as long as you want to!” Lyla’s voice sings in your ear. "Thailand is lovely this time of the year, barely any tycoons."

Most of the time, you ignore her presence, burying your head into the pillow, pathetically hugging onto one of the oversized shirts that’s been left behind.

Everytime you hope to catch a whiff of the remnant traces of Miguel’s presence there. But there’s nothing. It just smells of stale detergent.

After surviving the end of the world, a lot of things that used to be important seems meaningless to you now.

Alive as you may be, there’s no real purpose for you carved out in this dimension. You don't go to work in the mornings, because the you of this universe died years ago. Showing up at your office at the Chrysler building would likely induce heart attacks amongst your old co-workers.

You could scour Careerbuilder for job ads, but there's a sour pit in your stomach that hugs tightly around your guts everytime you think of the prospect of having to speak to job recruiters.

You don't think you have it in you to lie to some stranger at an interview and pretend that being in front of a white screen poring over excel sheets 8 hours a day is the way you want to spend the rest of your life until you hit retirement.

Besides, rent is not an issue anymore. Nor is money when Lyla is there to take care of you and act as your digital sugar momma. A standing order for any and all bills needed to maintain this home had already been set up long before you arrived.

You feel sorry for Lyla. She's been programmed to take care of your mental and physical well being and you know she is at wit's end with your listless behavior.

She pulls out all the stops. Lyla orders take out for you, delivered right to your door to try to get you to eat. If she had a physical body, you think she would hold you down and force feed you.

But something is wrong with you, because even though every dish is your favorite, rounded up from your favorite restaurants in the city, for the first time in your life since you were born, you no longer have much of an appetite.

You usually only manage mouthfuls just to keep Lyla from constantly nagging, before you shove the take-out box back into the fridge and then crawl back into bed.

Everything tastes bland and grey. Everything around you seems to have lost its color and shine. Was the world around you always this dull?

On the fifth day, there is a familiar baby-pink box with Gladis' logo printed on the lid arriving at your doorstep.

“Surprise!” Lyla announces. “It’s your favorite! I ordered the luxury box with the elderflower lemon flavors, as well as the lychee-raspberry jello!”

You sit down by the table, staring at the beautifully adorned cupcakes in the box. Spirals of white and pink frosting with petals of edible flowers. There's freshly cut strawberries and blackberries and chocolate shavings on op.

Picking one up, you cram the whole cupcake into your mouth, trying to cling onto the memory of that first time when the flavor of lemon zest bursting on your tongue had made you squeal with happiness.

That doesn't happen.

This time, as the sugar hits the top of your mouth, all you can think about is how much you miss him. How things will never be the same without him.

How you'll never get to have him sit next to you, smiling softly as he watches you eat. That you'll never get to see him demolish a cupcake in one bite and leave frosting on his nose.

It doesn't feel the same, you just feel hollow. Wetness spills across your cheeks, and snot clogs your nose and throat. You must look like a looney, ugly crying with your mouth stuffed full of cupcake, barely swallowing.

After that Lyla doesn’t order them for you anymore.

It's morning you think, judging from the bright sun pouring in from the blinds.

Lyla is buzzing near your ear where you've taken off the watch and placed it on the pillow next to you for company.

"You need to get out of the house. You're turning into a social recluse. It's not a good look," she says, as she peers down at you over her pink-tinted glasses.

"How about I get a date for you? Have a fab night out on the town? I have a roller-dex of the top bachelors in New York. I'm happy to hack into their calendar!"

You ignore her, burying your face deeper into the pillow, hugging Miguel's worn hoodie tighter to your chest. You pull the cover over your head, but you can still hear her babble on through the thin separation of fabric.

"What's your type? Oscar Isaac? He’s hot– No, no you're right he's happily married and we don’t wanna be homewreckers here. What about Lenny Kravitz? Doesn't get cooler than Kravitz and he’s long divorced."

"Lyla stop," you groan, poking your head back up above the covers. You just want quiet. Just want to stay here cocooned in this space that is the closest you'll ever get to Miguel for as long as you can remember him, until that too is taken away from you.

"I'm fine. I don't need a date."

"You're not fine though. You've only eaten a box of cupcakes in the last week. You haven't showered and you look like a mess. Your hair is greasier than the BP oil spill off the gulf of Mexico. My purpose is to keep you safe, and that includes your mental and emotional levels, which are... " she stops, throwing up some diagnostics boxes in floating holograms, then makes a face. "Yikes."

She’s doing this on purpose. Talking incessantly, so that she can nag you into doing what she wants. Suddenly you gain newfound sympathy for Miguel. You used to think it was funny when she nagged him and got on his nerves, but now that you're on the end of it, you see how he must’ve suffered when Lyla was in one of these moods with him.

"Will you stop if I step out of the house for a walk," you offer as an olive branch, hoping for a little peace and quiet.

"How long of a walk?"

"Five."

"Minutes?!" Lyla screeches with outrage. "The general recommendation is 150 minutes of weekly exercise, I'm going to need at least an hour's walk from you boss-girl."

"Twenty minutes."

"Forty!"

"Half an hour, or I'm going back to bed and wearing earplugs."

Lyla grins. "Deal".

The streets here look the same as the ones in your dimension, down to the Bodega owned by the old Korean couple around the corner. This version of earth is identical to yours in almost every way you know of.

Except in this New York, instead of Matthew Ellis, a man named Biden who is apparently over 100 years old (give or take a few years) is president.

In this reality, Leonardo Di Caprio apparently won an Oscar, while Amy Adams still hasn't, which is nuts to you.

The Avengers also don't seem to exist here. Though Superheroes still seem prevalent. A group of misfits that refers to themselves as the Fantastic Four seems to dominate the news cycle more often than not.

Ahead of you, the street splits into two paths and you take a corner into the smaller street that you know should cut through to a dog park.

But it doesn’t. Instead of green grass fields and park benches, you end up in a small narrow dead end of a street. Somehow you're lost. Shit. You should've paid more attention.

Looking up, you turn your head left and right to try to make sense of where you could be. You’re just about to pull up google maps, when the flickering light of the one sole streetlamp illuminating this alley catches your attention.

You're 12 blocks from Chinatown, but you recognize this alley even though it shouldn't be here.

From a distance, you spot the familiar red stall. The same small rickety table. The same red cloth draped on top. The same old lady with her abnormally large shiny head, comically large sunglasses and white-blue robe. The same giant sign spelling out: Fortune teller.

Only this time, there's only one folding chair set up in front of it.

She takes one look at you, as you sit down with a look of familiarity in her milky-white eyes.

"Your bad luck is gone," she says.

You should be more surprised that the scam fortune teller from another dimension seemingly remembers the conversation you had with her other self. But it doesn't. You've learned by now that nothing is as it seems.

Random near death accidents are not just due to bad luck. A superhero that repeatedly saves you isn’t just doing it out of sheer goodwill and duty. A starmap is not just a starmap, and you’re willing to bet your life that this fortune teller is not just a fortune teller.

“Who are you?” you ask her.

“Is that of importance to you?”

“Yes.”

She takes off her sunglasses and stares directly into your eyes. Without the obstruction of dark tinted lenses, you can see that it's not glaucoma causing the whiteness in her pupils. In her eyes, there are galaxies, millions of tiny dots of glowing stars, endless and mesmerizing as you stare back into them.

"My name is Ulana. I’m a Watcher. My role is to observe the Multiverse from the Nexus of all realities.”

There’s no longer that harmless demeanor and friendly smile that makes you drop your guard. She holds herself with reverence as she speaks, with the aura of the divine.

“Does that mean you are able to observe every reality in this moment?” you ask.

“Yes.”

The image of your New York with its pink cracked sky and the chaos you left it in crowds your vision.

"Can you tell me what happened to my old world after I left? Is it still there?"

"Your old home is intact and safe."

You let out a shaky breath you didn’t know you had been holding all this time.

Thank god.

Relieved tears spill from your cheeks. Somehow you haven't single-handedly caused the destruction and death of whole worlds and countless lives.

Even if you can never go back there, that place will always be your home, and your chest warms at the thought that even without you it will always still be there.

You take a moment to gather yourself, to wipe the errant tears that are welling up with the back of your hand.

Then you take a deep calming breath before you ask her the question that has been plaguing your mind since you arrived in this reality.

"Is Miguel still alive in the void?" you ask her.

"Your husband is still alive. But he doesn't have much time left. He's fading."

Your fingers curl into fists on top of your knees, "How do I save him?"

"I couldn't tell you.” She shakes her head sadly. "My kind is not allowed to intervene. We are only meant to observe the ongoings of the universes. I've already meddled too much.”

Ducking down, she reaches under her desk, sorting through the pile of junk paper, before she leans back up over the table.

"This is the only help I can give you," she says, reaching over to place something into your hands.

You look down to see a familiar bright yellow Star Map.

"He'll be home this time," she tells you.

You're standing on the doorsteps of the old brownstone on 177A Bleecker Street, staring up at the old ornate wooden front doors.

Unlike last time you were here, there's no hesitation in you anymore. It doesn't matter that you've come alone with no other superhero to validate your mad and fantastical story about the Cosmos that was out to kill you.

You don't care if Strange thinks you're a random crazy from the streets.

If he doesn't believe you, then you'll make him believe you. If he tries to have you hauled out, you'll kick and drag and scream at the top of your lungs, and chain yourself to his front door if that's what it takes.

You bring your hand to the door knocker and tap it three times. Then you wait.

Nothing.

Didn't the fortune teller say he was going to be home this time?

Goddamnit, was she a scam after all? What kind of name is Ulana for a celestial being anyhow? Did you end up wasting another ten dollars?

You grit your teeth and step forward again, grabbing the door knocker to pound it down against the front door, even harder this time and you don’t stop at one or two, you keep slamming it down fervently.

Mid-knock, the door creaks, swinging open, as an exasperated voice greets you.

"Yes, yes, yes. I'm coming. There's no need to knock that aggressively, I'm not going to come to the door any fast–"

He stops mid-sentence as he looks at you. For a man you've never met, Dr. Strange's eyes go wide at the sight of you standing on his doorsteps. His eyes are filled with the disbelief of a man who's seen a ghost.

"You're alive," he says.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable,” Strange says as he hurriedly pulls out a chair by the old oak table in his dining room.

“I’ll make us some tea,” he says.

He waves his cape with a dramatic flare in the empty space, and from a distance you hear a small click, before you realize that he must’ve used magic to put on the kettle.

For someone that’s supposed to be a sorcerer, you don’t know why the hell he bothers having a kettle. Seems a bit redundant, couldn’t he just use magic to instantly heat water?

You sit down as instructed, hands folded in your lap as you try not to fidget.

There’s a prolonged and uncomfortable silence as you both wait for the water to boil.

Strange opens then closes his mouth, as if he’s unsure of who should speak first. In the end though, he doesn’t say anything at all, he just drums his fingers impatiently on the wooden surface as he smiles politely but awkwardly at you. Across the room, the water starts simmering to a boil.

This wasn’t what you had expected. You had counted on him to try to kick you out and you having to make a passionate plea for him to listen to you. Instead he’d opened the door and insisted on inviting you in and now the two of you are drowning in a sea of uncomfortable silence.

There’s a tinny whistle from the kettle, and Strange darts up from the chair, as if the interruption was a godsend. He rushes over to pick it up, before walking back to the table with it at a much slower pace.

Then he stands next to you, tilting the snout of the kettle into your small tea cup.

Strange stares intently at your face as he pours the boiling water into the cup. So focused on you that he doesn't pay any attention to the level of the hot water, until it spills over the rim and onto the table surface below. Then he seemingly snaps himself out of it.

"Shit! Sorry," Strange begins. He wipes up the spillage with his robe, even though there are perfectly good paper towels behind him, even though he could’ve just used magic to make it vanish in the blink of an eye.

"You look exactly like her," he says, then he stops himself.

Strange considers the statement and does a curt little nod at himself as if berating himself for how stupid that comment sounded. "Which of course you do. You are her, just… from another dimension."

From your time with Miguel, you’ve been able to glean from his childish rants about the man’s “ugly” and “useless” and “impractical” cape that there’s a hostility there towards Strange that goes beyond just Miguel being Miguel.

Judging from the guilt in this man’s eyes as he looks at you from across the table, you can guess that there is a complicated history between Strange and Miguel and you.

“Did you know me?” you ask.

“Yeah, we were friends. Good friends,” Strange corrects himself. Then a sadness seeps into his eyes as he stops wiping the table and pulls back his robe close to his body. “Although I supposed I wasn’t a great friend to you near the end of things.”

He places the cup down on the table in front of you, the rising steam wafts through the air, smelling of mint and honey as he drags out the chair and sits himself next to you.

"Why don't you tell me everything from the start," Strange asks you.

So you do. You tell him of that first day when you fell out of the Chrysler building and was saved by Miguel. Tell him about how Miguel saved you again and again and how you tried to trap him with cookies and how you fell out of the Chrysler building a second time on purpose, which makes Strange laugh that sounds fond and warm.

You tell him of the void, the fortune teller, the Avengers and everything in between, and how despite surviving all of that Miguel had exiled himself to the void and sent you here by yourself, with each event you tell him his eyes grow sadder.

When you're done, Strange nods solemnly. He picks up his cup and takes a small sip of his tea to buy himself time to gather his thoughts. Then he finally speaks again. "What can I do to help?"

"Miguel is still in the void. I need your help to send me there so I can get him back."

Strange frowns, then goes entirely quiet as he stares out of the window in deliberation. It takes several moments before he speaks again.

"The void is a dangerous place, stay too long and you will be erased from existence. If you go in you may not be able to find your way out and I wouldn’t be able to help you from here."

“That’s fine, I just need your help to get there” you say.

He sets down his cup as he continues. "I can’t in good conscience send you back out there. I've already broken my promise to keep you safe once."

Frustration brims in your chest. As flattered as you are over Strange’s concern over your safety, you bristle at the fact that there seems to be none extended to Miguel’s. Every second you spend here is another second wasted.

“Miguel is there. If I don’t save him, he’s going to be erased from existence.”

That doesn’t seem to move the doctor in the slightest.

“For Miguel, his own life is a small price to pay in exchange for yours. He’d sacrifice the whole world for you to live.”

“That’s not a choice for him to make.”

Strange scratches his thumb over his bearded jaw, as if he's trying to figure out how to solve a puzzle, before speaking again.

"Right now with Miguel gone, the volatile cosmic energy surrounding you is stabilized. The version of you in this universe died and is viewing your presence as an equivalent exchange. You could stay here. You'd be safe. Miguel would've known that. That's probably why he sent you here.”

"I don't want to stay here if Miguel isn't here," you counter.

Leaning back in his chair, Strange up at the ceiling in deep thought.

"It's risky, if I sent you there, you may not even be able to find him. He might not even have his physical shape anymore, he’s been there too long by now."

His head ducks back down as he looks at your face, observing you for long moments.

You don't know what it is he sees, but a small amused smile quirks at his lip as he shakes his head again.

"But... I think you already know the risks and nothing I can say will dissuade you will it?" he says.

You nod.

It's not that you've stopped being scared of the void. It's not that the very thought of it doesn't fill your stomach with a cold dread. It's that Miguel is there, and there is no risk you're not willing to take to have the chance to see him again.

You square your chest and confidence swells inside you with your answer.

"Send me there."

~ Next Issue

Credit and Dedication: We're almost there guys! Next issue is going to be the final one. Thanks to everyone who has been with me on this ride! I cannot wait to share the final conclusion with you all.

Special thank you (as always) go out to my bestie: @thirstworldproblemss who is a big reason this story even lifted off the ground in the first place.

Big BIG BIGGEST thanks to my muse @guruan who has gifted me with so much inspiration be it thirsty twitter art of our favorite rude spider or her own insanely gorgeous art. Have you seen this heartbreaking beauty?!

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara fi #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spiderverse #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse fanfiction #across the spiderverse #marvel mcu #marvel #miguel ohara fic #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #spiderverse fanfiction

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justkpopjokes · 2 months ago

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SKZ’s reaction to being Trapped in an elevator with you

A/N: An idea from ummm 2020? Lmao I got trapped in an elevator once. Requests open :D

gender-neutral!reader, mix of romantic + platonic!

Bang Chan: “It’s okay, baby, stay calm. This is why there’s a call button built into the elevator.”

Waits a moment to see if the elevator will fix itself

Hugs you and rubs your back if you get scared

Then he presses the alert and/or call button in the elevator and handles the whole conversation until maintenance comes

Prioritizes you and does his best to keep the situation under control

Lee Know: “I can’t die now! I have three cats to raise!”

Startled but isn’t surprised; the elevator has been having issues all week and he’s been thinking about it every time he steps in

Kinda scared the elevator will fall—he’s definitely the type of person to plan on jumping as the elevator falls to supposedly minimize damage

Tries to distract himself while you handle the distress call

Suggests lifting you up to the top of the elevator like in spy movies until you remind him that there’s another set of doors on each floor of the elevator shaft

Changbin: “YO…yohhhh…sorry, sorry, where’s the distress button?”

Freaks out for a bit at first but quickly toughens up because he doesn’t want to worry you

Tries to distract you both from panicking with humour

Acts cool on call with maintenance to impress you 😎

The elevator is stuck near a floor, so he’s able to help push the door open and help you out!

Hyunjin: “AOUGH are we gonna die?? Okay, nevermind, we won’t…at least we brought food, right?”

Was returning from a snack run with you when the elevator crapped out and the lights started flickering

Is a drama queen until you open a bag of chips so he’ll stop yelling

You’re gonna have to handle the distress call simply because his mouth is full of snacks

Suggests making out to pass the time (he’s trying to distract himself)

Han: “Did you hear—WHAT WAS THAT?!”

Would panic before he even knows what’s happening! Thank goodness you’re there to calm him down

Latches onto you for comfort

You’d have to figure out which button to press and the call because he’s too stressed

Hugs you tightly even after you escape the elevator because “my life flashed before my eyes! I need to cherish you more!”

Felix: “Woah WOAH woah. Are you okay? You’re okay, right? Don’t worry, let’s handle this together.”

Pretends not to panic but spams whatever assist buttons they have and the “open door” one even though it doesn’t work

Clears his throat and makes sure to use his deep voice when on call to show you he isn’t scared. He isn’t! Not worried at all!!

Holds your hand and does deep breathing exercises with you to keep you both calm

Will massage your head for you to help you relax

Seungmin: “Ugh, I hate when this happens. Give it a minute.”

This is the guy who had a helicopter crash into his building and was unphased… unbothered king™️ could not give a crap about the elevator

Is two minutes away from lock picking a control panel to try and fix it himself (he can’t. He’s just bored)

The elevator is trapped between floors even though the door opens—he’s ready to help lift you up through the gap just to get help quicker

You refuse because you don’t want to leave him behind, so you play a game with him to pass the time

I.N: “Um…we’re supposed to call someone, right? But my phone is dead!”

Is honestly unsure what to do…Is praying in his head that the elevator fixes itself first so you don’t need to call for help

His finger hesitates over the alarm/call button while his other hand holds yours tightly

Asks if you have snacks so he can stress eat while you wait for help

Immediately searches up “what to do when trapped in an elevator” the moment you’re out in order to prepare for the future

#stray kids reactions #skz reactions #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #jkj fics #.txt

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kivino · 1 year ago

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KIVI, YOU SWEET ANGEL YOU.

can you write a price x gn!paramedic!reader where price is on leave, and maybe he gets into a car accident that isn’t too bad so he refuses to go to the hospital, but the cute paramedic keeps insisting on at least checking him out in the ambulance……….. 😋

DOUBLE VISION || JOHN 'BRAVO 0-6' PRICE X PARAMEDIC!GN!READER

Word counter – ~1.9k

Tags/Warnings – mentions of car crash, intoxication, medical examinations, fluff, first meeting, and lack of medical professionalism, lmao.

A/n – PLSS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE, IT TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE TO GET TO THE REQUEST I’M SORRY MWAH. also credits for the name go to @mockerycrow as well, they’re a genious and have the biggest brain out of the two of us.

ao3 link for this fic

It’s always a slow process for John - getting used to the slow, civilian ways when he finally gets his leaves approved. When he spends so much time on the field, more often than not he starts to forget about “the other side” of life. Lack of noise, mundane mornings, and silent nights come and with them, the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness starts to set in his gut. John gets reminded about the lack of anyone’s presence in his life. No one is waiting for him back home, and no one will probably be any time soon, with how work takes over most of his free time. And then the captain remembers he’s not getting any younger.

Of course, he had plenty of experience and relationships before, but none of them lasted until now when his hair was already graying and wrinkles were starting to riddle his face here and there. John wasn’t insecure about his age, no, because that would be foolish, really, rather it was the fact that he had no one to share with all the years that were ahead of him.

What John also had a hard time getting used to was driving the busy streets of London with its crazy drivers after months of not getting behind the wheel, which brings him to this moment. Well, it really was on him for trying to get somewhere after happy hour in all the pubs in the area ended, he should’ve probably anticipated some drunk idiot would want to drive back home today. John wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment to fill out all the paperwork and figure out who was in the wrong. His thoughts were far away from here. Probably all the impact from the airbag and the hit.

He’s had it worse before, of course, so some bruises and scratches here and there wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. John felt some pulsing pain in his knee, making it harder to stand upright, and a bit of an ache in his neck from the whiplash, but again, it wasn’t as bad as getting thrown into the wall by an explosion or falling out of a damn helicopter.

So now he has to spend the whole evening working out things with the police and that drunk idiot who bumped into him, freezing his ass off in the rain. Just perfect. John feels a surge of annoyance and exhaustion wash over him, he pinches his brow, letting out an impatient sigh. Cops have arrived on the scene already and started examining the two collided vehicles, after putting around some traffic cones so some other lucky fellas don’t decide to join in on the fun. From his spot on the sidewalk, John can also see the paramedics, who had to get involved because as soon as cops started questioning that drunk guy, he decided to scrunch into himself and show the world all the contents of his stomach. As if it needed to get even more complicated than it already was.

“Excuse me, sir? You’re the other…driver involved in the accident?” John suddenly hears a voice, a bit on the quiet side, which brings him out of his thoughts that involve strangling somebody in a variety of different ways. And oh, his nights instantly become tens, if not thousands of times better when he sees the owner of said voice.

Judging by the identifying markings you were a paramedic, and a very cute one at that, with your dull green uniform and a big jacket on, brows tied together in a concerned expression. Oh, and your eyes, they looked absolutely lovely in the low streetlights. Price is taken aback for the moment, forgetting every word in his vocabulary. He feels his heart starting to beat faster, blood flowing through his veins so fast he’s sure if it wasn’t for the evening darkness he’d most likely resemble a tomato. But then John realizes he must say something because just staring at you would just make him seem like some old creep. And he absolutely didn’t want that.

“Yes, that would be me.” He speaks up after clearing his throat. You nod to that, attentive gaze still on him. John then adds on after a short pause, which took him to let out a deep sigh. “You need me for anything?” Anything. Something. Please.

“Just checking up.” John feels his heart melt at that small smile that grazes your lips, making it obvious you’re satisfied with his answer. “You seem to be holding up better than the other driver.” You joke in an attempt to either lighten up the mood, which John appreciates, or to calm yourself a bit. It didn’t escape him how you seemed a little shaky. It was Friday night, so today’s shift might have been rough on you. Always the Friday nights.

“Well, anyone would hold up better than that bloke.” He jokes with a bit of abandon, a low chuckle escaping his lips, as he starts to overthink himself. John suddenly feels like a dumb teenager, which is never a good sign, especially when there is someone he’s interested in right in front of him. Price feels like his laugh is too rough, stance is too relaxed and everything is just a bit too much when your eyes are on him. Oh, he’s so going to embarrass himself.

“True, but let’s not tell him that.” You give a quiet laugh and John’s worries die down a little. Not completely, but enough to let his eyes get glued to your face. “How are you feeling? Is there any abnormal pain, anything unusual or out of the ordinary?” Oh, so you’re the type to get straight to business, huh? Interesting. Price liked that. “If there’s anything wrong we’ll get you right to the hospital.” Price declined when he got asked about the hospital before by another paramedic because there was no way he was going to spend even more time out of his house because of some minor scratches. But if it meant you’ll be there, he’s calling dibs on the seat beside you in the ambulance truck, dear lord.

“My knee’s complaining a bit, love.” John can see your eyes going as big as two shiny coins when you hear that pet name, which, to be fair, slipped out completely unintentionally. However, by the way you instantly light up in another shy smile, he can tell you don’t really mind it, so his nervousness caused by this… “happy accident”, comes down again. “Some bruises, but I’m not about to hold you up because of those.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright, come with me and I can check you out…” You stutter over your words while talking a bit too quickly and once you understand what you said, an annoyed groan comes out of you. Way to embarrass yourself. “I mean, check your knee out in the ambulance, alright?” You again shoot him a smile. Which probably is in vain, since he’s a patient at the moment, and you’re at work, and that’s very much frowned upon, but what can you do? You don’t meet a man like that everywhere. He looks a bit rough around the edges, but that’s part of the charm.

“I’m sure your hands are already full with that hero of the day over there, I’m good.” What. The fuck. Are you doing. John. The only chance he gets to talk to you and he’s blowing it, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know why he said that. Maybe not to seem desperate in a very self-sabotaging way, but that’s just. Oh, John, you’re too old for playing some damn games with someone you like.

“You know what? I insist.” Your voice is lower and rougher. And when you top it off with another one of your sweet smiles and a gentle touch on his shoulder? John is a gone man. Turning into complete mush, putty, if you will. God, for this perfect smile he was ready to smash and repair every single house appliance and pipe in your house.

“Alright then. Anything for you, love, lead the way.” And you did, with your hand resting softly on his back, helping him forward. John wished you would’ve been bolder with your touch, so he could feel more than just a light graze, but still. It felt good.

And then he finds himself in the back of the ambulance truck, this cramped, tiny space making him hold his breath from being so goddamn nervous in your presence. You told him to take a seat while rummaging through some cabinets and various medical bags for something. Seemingly not finding anything that you needed you spoke up to him again.

“Okay, now let me see your knee, sir.” You mumbled while kneeling in front of him, your eyes concentrated on the man. He didn’t mind you calling him sir at all. John was so used to being called that, but right now it just spread that very pleasant warm feeling inside of him.

“Well, I’m not taking my pants off. Not without a dinner first.” Price chuckled, as he tried rolling up one of his pants legs. And, well, his statement wasn’t that far from the truth. The whole deal with examination was a bit awkward to begin with, so he didn’t want to make it even worse.

“I’ll think about it, big guy.” You chuckle, as you finally start looking at his knee, small, feather-light touches sending sparks over Price’s skin. So, you enjoyed teasing him like that, huh? In combination with that nice, sweet smile? Oh, John is sold. He definitely should you invite somewhere while he still has time on his leave. But before he can open his mouth to make a brave offer you speak up again. “Looks like you have a minor sprain in here, your knee’s all swollen. I’ll apply some elastic bandages, that you’re going to have to wear for some time and redo yourself. But overall you seem to be doing good” Price couldn’t help but feel like that last remark wasn’t about his health.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s all fine with me, love. Do what you have to.” You only nod in response, spending some time rummaging in the cupboards once again and emerging victorious with a roll of elastic bandages in your hands. You return to your previous position in front of John, and adjust his knee with a firm hand, mumbling a quiet “Hold still, please”. Oh, he’d freeze for centuries if you had asked him to. But he does, and as you wrap the bandage around his knee, which just kept pulsing with hot pain, he couldn’t help but admire you. The trained movements, the concentrated gaze, the warm touch…Maybe he really should act on his thoughts. Maybe it’s his chance. Maybe something can work out and this accidental meeting will become…something more.

Price wanted it to become something more.

His imagination ran rampant, picturing you wearing something nice and fancy, in case you do agree on a date. John totally should not be thinking this when you were right there, finally putting some finishing touches on his knee bandaging, so he forced them out of his mind and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. But before Price can even utter a single sound you’re already being called over by your colleague. Guess he’ll just have to wait until you’re free of your duties, huh?

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sweetfictionalworld · 1 year ago

Text

Is This Love?

Pairing: Recom!Quaritch x Recom!Fem Reader

Summary: Quaritch and you are just sleeping together...right?

Warnings: Possesive!Quaritch, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Soft Sex.

"I’m coming over tonight."

That was the order in Colonel Quaritch's eyes as he looked at you when the two of you stepped out of the helicopter. Not a question. An order. All you were to Miles Quaritch was a willing pussy who never said no.

And you didn’t protest. Cause you wanted it, wanted him. Quaritch had become your addiction.

You’d met him six months ago when you both woke up on Pandora as recoms. At first, he had questioned why you were there since you weren't a part of his old team. General Ardmore explained that she wanted a third party present, someone unbiased who didn't have the history with Jake Sully the way he and the others had.

Quaritch had huffed at that at first, and refused to say anything to you except orders. But something changed along the way, when he saw how skilled and capable you were in a fight. You were agile like a cat, slithering around your enemies like a snake. After a few weeks, you were all Quaritch could think about at night. How much he wanted to mate with you and make you his.

At first, you were certain Colonel Quaritch hated you. He barely even looked at you when he gave you orders. But then, after your first fight with a group of Na'vi, something changed. He was always nearby, stalking around you like a cat on heat, always giving you that deadly, charming smile of his. And you fell for it, fell for his damn charm and charisma and pompous personality. Before you knew it, he was taking you from behind in your chamber after a mission. He had followed you home, and you hadn't even questioned it. Just silently let him inside, and the moment the door closed, he was on you, crashing his lips against yours in a needy, desperate kiss.

"Fuck, Quaritch," you moaned as he snapped his hips, hitting that sweet spot deep inside that made you quiver. You were lying flat on your stomach, and Quaritch was fucking you from behind, pounding your pussy ferociously as he held your tail in a tight grip. You had pondered whether you should finally say, no thanks, see you around. But then your fucking pussy betrayed you when you saw his hard dick and thought about how damn good he was with it. Without a word, he had yanked you around, climbed on top of you, and slammed into you from behind, grunting with satisfaction as he bottomed out in your tight pussy.

His hand grabbed your braid and yanked your head back, holding both your tail and hair in a hard grip. You gasped and curled your fingers into the sheets as Quaritch took you with such force you were thrown straight into an overwhelming orgasm. Your vision blurred as pleasure consumed your body, and you screamed, clenching around his cock pounding your dripping pussy.

Quaritch pumped through your climax, chasing his own as he watched your orgasm shake your body violently. Soon, he felt his balls tightening and growled as he rammed your cunt with one last, deep thrust and emptied his sticky load inside you. He collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. You laid there, feeling his weight on your body until you both had calmed down from your high.

A minute later, he was already dressed and ready to go.

"I don’t think I can do this anymore," you said, lying on top of the covers naked, watching as Quaritch sat at the foot of the bed, tying his shoes.

"What?" Quaritch looked at you and laughed. "Don’t be ridiculous."

"I’m serious. I want something more. I don’t want to be just…a fuck buddy."

"And I told ya from the start. I ain't looking for a relationship."

"Yeah, I know, but-"

"Look. We have a good setup here. We’re fucking great in bed together. No goddam feelings getting in the way. You really wanna give that up?"

Quaritch smiled, seeing the look on your face that told him everything he needed to know.

"Good. See ya in the morning," he said and left.

Sighing, you fell back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Dammit, he really had you hooked. Yes, you wanted more, but you didn’t want to lose him either. Having a piece of him was better than having nothing at all.

"What the hell was that?!" Quaritch slammed the door shut behind him, his fists clenching and jaw gritting as he glared at you.

"What?" You looked at him, confused.

"The way you risked your life back there! For a fucking Na'vi kid?!"

You stared at Quaritch in disbelief.

"You really think I would let an innocent child be collateral damage in this so-called war against the Na'vi?"

Quaritch raised an eyebrow, his ears flicking back and forth. "So, what? Are you suddenly questioning what we're doing here?"

"I know exactly why we're here. We are invading their planet, Quaritch. THEIR planet. And you all didn't expect them to fight back? Tell me, Quaritch. If it were the other way around, we would do anything to protect Earth, wouldn't we?"

Quaritch glared at you and clenched his jaw, but didn't say anything.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Quaritch sighed and rubbed his eyes. It was hopeless arguing with you. The two of you would never see this from the same point of view. But fuck it, if he was letting you have the final word.

You gasped in shock when you were suddenly swirled around and pushed against the wall by Quaritch's strong hands locking your arms above your head.

"You're mine, darlin', and I'm not going to lose ya because of some savages you feel obligated to save," he muttered.

You stared up into the fiery determination in his yellow eyes, feeling a heat rush from the pit of your stomach down to your sex. Fuck, why did he always have this effect on you?

"So what? Are you gonna stop me from doing my job? Keep me here, locked up and safe?" you snarled and glared up at him. It wasn't working though, when his tall and broad frame loomed over you. Damn, why did he have to be so large, making you feel so small and tiny and getting so fucking turned on by it?

"That's a good idea, darlin'," he smirked, and you rolled your eyes and let out a soft chuckle.

"You're hopeless, you know that?"

"I know," Quaritch replied with a smug grin and lifted you up around his waist. Gasping, you wrapped your arms around him and giggled as you looked into his eyes. Quaritch looked back at you with a soft gaze you'd never seen before, and your smile faded away as the tension in the air grew serious. Your gaze flickered between his eyes and lips as you lifted your hand and cupped his face. Dipping your head down, you pressed your lips to his, kissing him softly. Quaritch started walking back towards the bed, his lips never leaving yours as you quickly undressed each other and fell down on the bed with him on top of you.

Quaritch kissed his way down your body, took each nipple into his mouth, and sucked on them tenderly. You moaned with pleasure and smiled with delight as you arched your back and pushed your breasts closer to him. Quaritch smirked up at you before his lips kissed down your belly until he nestled his face between your thighs, tongue licking up and down your slick folds. You moaned and grabbed his head, bucking your hips against his face as his lips and tongue brought you to climax.

A growl of appreciation rumbled in Quaritch's throat as he tasted your arousal and felt how wet he made you. His dick was painfully hard, twitching with need to feel your tight pussy around him and fill you to the brim with his cum.

Fuck, he needed you now.

Pushing you over to your side, he laid down behind you and lifted your leg as he pushed inside you. You moaned as he stretched you out and filled you up, turned your head to him, and kissed him deeply as he started thrusting at a slow and gentle pace. The kiss and his thrusting grew more and more passionate, his grunts filling the room as he rutted his hips against your ass.

"Oh, Miles!" you gasped, and he growled in response, sliding an arm underneath your body while wrapping his other around you. He hugged your body tightly against his, snapping his hips against your ass, chasing his orgasm as he felt the ball of pleasured heat tighten his core.

Quaritch was deliciously rough and loving all at once, his roughness bringing you swiftly to orgasm as his cock hit your g-spot with every thrust. The two of you came simultaneously, your body trembling in his strong embrace as he held you tight against him, his hips bucking a final time as he emptied his seed deep inside your fluttering pussy.

"I love you," you mumbled through heavy breaths with closed eyes as you slowly came down from the high of pleasure.

Quaritch sighed and closed his eyes, inhaling your scent as he buried his nose into your neck.

"I love you too," he replied, finally tearing down the walls to his emotions and allowing himself to love.

#miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x you #miles quaritch smut #recom quaritch x reader #recom quaritch x you #recom quaritch smut #recom quaritch #quaritch x reader #quaritch x you #quaritch smut #quaritch avatar #miles quaritch #miles quaritch fanfic #quaritch fanfic #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #avatar fanfiction

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pinkiemachine · 7 months ago

Text

Superman: Origin Story! 🎉

Part one involving what became of Krypton and the rest of the El family will be linked below.

Lara and Cal crash landed together on Earth (specifically, outside of Smallville Kansas) in the summer of 1977 with their escape pod badly damaged, and Lara bleeding out. As luck would have it, a young couple was driving through that part of the country and saw what they thought was a plane of some sort crash land. John Kent jumped out of the car and went to check to see if there were survivors and found a Kryptonian escape pod, steaming and smoking, with a woman and baby inside. Lara could tell that she didn’t have much time. Attempting to speak to John (though, he didn’t understand her language) she asked that he would take care of her son and bring help. Along with Cal, she also gave John a small, hand-held device that he couldn’t figure out the purpose of. Then… she died.

John was left standing there, not knowing what to do for a few seconds. Ultimately, he figured he ought to bury the body out of respect, so he ran back to his wife to give her the baby. By that point, though, there were already dark shapes on the horizon. Martha spotted them. Black helicopters. The Kents got in their car and sped away as quickly as they could, not wanting to get tangled up in whatever conspiracy this was. John didn’t take them back to house that night. Instead, they kept driving until they reached his sister Emma’s house where they would lay low for a while.

Martha was still holding baby Cal and she couldn’t bear to let him go. She had suffered a miscarriage just a week before and immediately fell in love with the boy. There would be no getting rid of him now. They decided to name him Clark, after a word John thought that the woman in the pod had tried to say to him.

After the black helicopters had gone, and after the crashed pod had mysteriously disappeared, John and Martha went back home and continued on with life. Naturally, they had a million questions, but answers would be very tricky to supply unless they wanted to poke their noses into uncertain places. So they kept to themselves. Clark, meanwhile, was growing up fast and strong. Literally. By the time he was two, he was lifting things he really shouldn’t be able to, running faster than they could keep up with, and falling out trees on purpose (not sustaining any injuries) because it was fun. This was their first inkling that Clark might not be human. (After all, Kryptonians do look a lot like humans.)

I would also like to mention that in this version, Clark has siblings. Yes, a few years after saving Clark, Martha gave birth to another son, Micheal. Then came Sean, then Rueben, and finally Suzie. They all worked together on their father’s farm, though it was kind of an open secret who did most of the work. Clark would out-perform his brothers constantly, and it had become quite the sore spot in the family. But, when the tractor breaks down, who’re you gonna call to get it back to the barn? Probably the superhuman son who can lift it with one hand and fly. They did have a lot of good times as well. They got up to so much stupid stuff…heheh… story for another time.

Clark was told from a young age that he was allowed to use his powers on the farm, but nowhere else. Especially not in town. John and Martha were worried the black helicopters might come back. So Clark did his best, but rumours still abounded. Some of the other kids in his class at school even called him an “alien” because of how weird he acted sometimes. Naturally, he had been told his origins by this point. When he was six, his parents sat him down and explained about the pod and his mother and John gave him the small device that Lara had given him. The moment Clark touched it, it activated. It was a holo-photo projector, and it displayed a portrait of the El family, baby Clark included. This was proof that Clark was from the stars, and from that moment onward, he became obsessed with outer space. By the time he was in middle school, he had star maps and rocket posters pinned up in his room, he tracked down every scrap of alien news and conspiracy theories that he could find, and tried to send out radio signals into deep space with his own dinky, homemade system in the family tree house. He loved his adoptive family, he did, but he also wanted to know what had happened to the rest of his birth family. Were they out there? Did they know where he was? That he was alive? He had so many questions!

Alas, time flew by, and no answers appeared. He had a falling out with one of his brothers (involving Clark losing control and accidentally hurting one of the family dogs with his laser vision) and after high school he left to get a degree in investigative journalism, later taking a job at the Daily Planet in Metropolis. He still talked to his brothers and sister and Ma and Pa, but he felt alienated. He didn’t really belong anywhere. That’s why this job was so important. He would scour the ends of the Earth to find answers.

Little did he know, though, that the escape pod and Lara’s body had been taken by the government and were being experimented on. Head of the classified project currently: Amanda Waller. Most invested investor: Lex Luthor.

Part one here 👇

#dc #dc comics #superman #fan fiction #head canon

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laundryandtaxesworld · 5 days ago

Note

Plot: There is a plane crash, and it is the 217. But maybe the injured person is Lucy or someone else. Maybe even Sal. Tommy's off shift when it happens, but Buck doesn't know that. Somehow the 118 and Buck, find out about the crash. Buck and Eddie both call Tommy repeatedly, and he doesn't answer because he's asleep or in the shower, or on a jog. Tommy wakes up, or gets out of the shower, or gets home from the jog and sees lots of missed calls. He calls back his team and goes to the hospital to check on his friends and colleagues and when he gets there, runs into Buck, who's freaking out because he couldn't get any info on who was in the crash. The person who crashed, survived, and Buck confesses that he loves Tommy and was so scared of losing him. They kiss, makeup, get back together and decide to revisit the moving in conversation in another 6 months to see where they're both at.

Again, so sorry this was so late! I hope you enjoy :)

-----

It was a q-word day at the 118 and Hen, Chim and Eddie were watching the news, while Bobby and Buck were in the kitchen.

"We are here to update you on the LAFD helicopter crashing involving LAFD air operations house 217." The news reporter went on but all faces turned to Buck who had stopped chopping vegetables and look at the TV and then back at everyone else.

"Buck?"

"I have to call Tommy." Buck set down the knife and fished out his phone from his pocket. His fingers trembled as he hit Tommy's contact.

The phone rang. And rang. And rang. Buck's breathing got worse. The phone contiuted to ring until..

"Hey, it's Tommy. I can't come to the phone right now but leave a message." Buck's knees started to buckle as Bobby rushed to keep him steady.

"Bobby..."

"Let's not jump to conclusions before we have more information, okay?"

Buck nodded. He was led to the couch and started at the wall. The TV was long turned off, but the words "217 and helicopter crash" was seared into his mind.

"Tommy, please be okay."

Tommy was dead asleep from a forty-eight hour shift, when his phone started to blare. He glared at his phone. It must be an emergency if one of his few contacts that were allowed to contact him on Do Not Disturb, was disturbing him. He groggily accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Tommy. I'm sorry to wake you. "

"Cap? What's up?" Tommy shot up in bed in a panic.

"She's okay, and just has a broken leg and ribs, but Lucy was in a helicopter crash."

"Oh, my god," Tommy ran a hand through his hair, as he grabbed a pair of sweats off the ground, "What hospital?"

"Cedars Sinai."

"I'm on my way."

"Okay, drive safe. I can't have two of my best pilots out of commission."

"Will do Cap." Tommy ended the call and raced downstairs towards his car grabbing is wallet, jacket and keys. He threw this stuff in the car and started towards the hospital.

Tommy ran through the doors and was met by his captain.

"She's in room 205. She's also a little loopy from all the pain meds."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"TOMMY!" Lucy opened her arms for a hug the best she could.

"Hi, Luce. I'm glad you're okay."

"Mhmm. I got into a crash," Lucy whispered loudly as Tommy sat down next to her bed.

"I know, and I was so sacred when I found out. I don't know what would happen if I lost you."

"Well you won't. I'll be here always." Lucy giggled as she booped Tommy's nose. Tommy smiled, just glad his best friend was alive and as well as she could be.

"I'll see you later, okay?"

"Okay!" Tommy bid her and his captian goodbye and when he got out of the hospital, he looked at all the notifications he missed.

2 missed calls from Evan, Tommy frowned as he clicked on his contact to see why he called.

"TOMMY? TOMMY?" Buck's frantic voice but Tommy on edge.

"Yes, it's me Evan. Are you okay?"

"Oh, thank god! Where are you?"

"Outside Cedars Sinai, Lucy was in an accident. What's going on?"

"STAY RIGHT THERE! I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Okay. I'll wait for you Evan." Tommy drew the phone away from his face to see the call wasn't on. He sighed as he waited for Evan to come.

Awhile later, Tommy was shifting on his feet to keep them from being sore, when he saw Evan run up to him.

"TOMMY! Thank god you're okay!" Tommy opened his arms as Evan bear hugged him and nuzzled into his neck. Tommy smiled as he hugged Evan back.

"What happened Evan?" Tommy asked softly when Evan finally pulled back to look at Tommy.

"I-I thought you were dead, or-or hurt. I was so sacred."

"Evan.. I'm okay."

"I know, I was just so sacred when I saw the news." Tommy kissed Evan's forehead as Evan took some breaths out.

"Lucy was in the accident. She's okay. Just a broken leg and some ribs."

"That's-that's good." Buck took one final breath out and stared at Tommy. His eyes tired and he looked gaunt.

"I love you Tommy."

"Ev-"

"Please, just let me talk."

"I love you so much Tommy and when I thought you were gone I was so sacred. I'm sorry I jumped the gun before, I-I just panicked and I over corrected like always."

"I'm sorry to Evan. I also panicked and we should have talked it out and I shouldn't have run away."

"Do you want to start over?"

"No."

"No?" Buck eye's widened.

"No, because then I'll have to erase all the great memories I made with you. So I don't want to start over, I just want to continue what he had." Buck smiled.

"Can I kiss you?" Buck asked.

"Yes." Buck smiled as he raised his face upwards to meet Tommy's lips. The kiss was even better than the last few kisses he had with Tommy. He could feel all the pain, desperation and longing in the kiss.

"Think we'll make it past six months?" Tommy asked.

"I'm sure of it," Buck replied.

"Happy second six month anniversary, baby." Buck handed Tommy his present. Buck's present of a cookbook laid on his lap.

"Happy six month anniversary, Evan. I do have a question before I open my present."

"Yes?"

"Will you move in with me?"

"Yes. Yes. Yes!" Buck kissed Tommy and they feel back onto the couch giggling.

"I love you Evan."

"I love you too Tommy."

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #bucktommy fix it

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salty-autistic-writer · 3 months ago

Text

For @bucktommypositivityweek round 2 Day 1: make your own season 8 opening disaster.

Summary: After the bee-nado, Buck waits for Tommy to wake up (Link to AO3)

“Have you seen the Bee Movie?” Buck asks, chuckling quietly and fidgeting with the bandage wrapped around his hand.

“I, uh, watched it with Chris once. We were laughing so much. It was a cute and funny movie. A bee fell in love with a human. And, uh, there was a plane. The pilots were knocked out mid-flight and so the bees helped land it. We really have to watch that movie together sometimes.”

He takes a deep breath, rubbing a hand over his still sweaty face. “Man. I wish those bees we had to put up with these last two days were as much fun as that movie …”

He shudders, remembering all those red swollen faces. Swollen hands. Swollen legs. Swollen arms. Everything and everyone swollen. No fun at all. Especially because the stings of those bees hurt like hell. Buck received one as well. Underneath the bandage, the whole side of his left hand is red and hot. He got some cream and a cooling pack for it.

Now, Los Angeles is slowly recovering from the insane incident that was called the “bee-nado”, the bees who were still crawling around alive being collected and settled somewhere else. The hospitals are filled to the brim with bee-related emergencies.

Buck is in the hospital too. Waiting for his boyfriend to finally wake up after he had to crash land his helicopter in a field and ended up unconscious, with a probably severe concussion and several bruises as well as lacerations. It could have been worse. Way worse. But still …

“You can’t keep doing that, you know?” He says, looking up from his hands at Tommy’s too still face. “You can’t always play the hero and let me sitting here, wondering if you will ever open your eyes again. And yes. I know that was what I was doing to people who cared about me way too often. But still. I can’t get used to how much this hurts. I miss you so, so much.”

And he could really use a hug right now. After everything that happened at work with Gerrard …

Buck shudders as he remembers. Gerrard screaming at him for every little thing. Gerrard taunting him because he noticed Buck texting Tommy with a smile on his face. Gerrard telling him to stay behind and clean the trucks while the rest of the team went to deal with the bees. Gerrard still scowling at him even when Buck was the one who rushed to help him.

“Gerrard is allergic to bees, did you know that?” Buck tells Tommy. “He almost died. He didn’t even tell anyone. But I gave him the epinephrine that kept him alive until he could be taken to the hospital.” Buck scoffs. “Wasn’t grateful at all … I wish we could get rid of him somehow. I was thinking about something. But so far, I have no idea.”

He leans back in the uncomfortable plastic chair, squinting into too-bright neon lights, his thoughts floating away, to better, easier times. To Bobby. Oh he’s still pissed at Bobby. How could he resign?! Without telling anyone … Buck shakes his head, trying to think about something else. He’s not ready yet to face those emotions …

Time passes.

Buck almost dozes off. But then, a groan and a cough make him perk up. Tommy moves, brows furrowing and lids fluttering. He finally opens his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling in confusion.

“Tommy!” Buck feels like a heavy weight is taken from his heart. Finally. Finally, he gets to see his boyfriend’s eyes again. He takes Tommy’s hand, squeezing it. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

Tommy looks at him, eyes widening a bit. “Ev … Please. Tell me. Bees are gone,” he croaks.

Buck chuckles, leaning over to give Tommy a kiss on his cheek. “Yeah. They’re gone.”

Tommy sighs, eyes closing again. “Good. Everyone … safe?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, swallowing. His stomach clenches. “Everyone is safe. But Tommy … You have to be more careful in the future. I was so worried …”

Tommy hums. “Sorry. Didn’t … didn’t tell the bees to fly into engine.”

Buck huffs. “Yeah, I know . Still. It was risky to fly in these conditions.”

“Helped. Save the day. With the water,” Tommy points out.

“Yeah. You did. Again,” Buck says softly, holding onto Tommy’s hand firmly. “My big brave hero.”

Tommy smiles. “Hmmm. Another medal?”

Buck laughs. “I don’t know. Do you think chief Simmons has to do some damage control for his career again? If not, I don’t think so. Listen, I’m going to go and get your doctor, okay? She said they have to run some tests when you’re awake. Just to make sure it’s not more than a concussion.”

“Okay,” Tommy says, one eye opening and searching for Buck. “Please. Come back.”

“Of course,” Buck says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “Always.”

He hasn’t gotten used to being this worried. But what he and Tommy have … It is worth all the pain.

#bucktommy positivity week 2024 #bucktommy #tevan #bucktommy fanfiction #tommy kinard #evan buckley

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flavored-soda · 7 months ago

Text

crawling back to you, if that's what i must do

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of death, injuries, blood, all that nasty stuff, panic attacks and anxiety

Word Count: 1.4k

Pairing: BuckTommy/Tevan/Kinley

Summary: Tommy's helicopter goes down and he is officially MIA for all of 17 hours. Buck panics until his lover is returned to him.

read on ao3 | heed the warnings and tags | posted for @bucktommyweek

“Mayday! Mayd–”

Pop.

“This is Firefighter Kinard.”

Hiss.

Crackle.

“Coming from…”

Pop.

“Crash-landing somewhere near…”

Crackle.

Hiss.

“RA units…ASAP.”

The line went dead. Static on the other end.

“Firefighter Kinard.”

More static.

“Kinard, do you read me?”

There was a click and then the line cut off with a shriek.

Firefighter Thomas Kinard was officially M.I.A.

---

17 hours.

That’s how long it took to locate Tommy’s chopper and send help.

17 hours.

For nine of those hours, Buck was on shift, responding to calls and fighting fires, with his phone off and mostly away from him. He wasn’t even made aware of the situation until they got back from a call. The next shift was already there and clocked in, as the call ran over the end of the shift. They had all unloaded from the engine and ambulance, loading into the locker rooms to hit the showers and change.

Buck was talking with Eddie when Bobby came in and asked him to meet him in his office. At first he shrugged it off, thinking it was just something simple, something small about the shift like paperwork, but as he was making the short walk from the locker rooms, he started to spiral. It wasn’t until he was in the office with Bobby telling him to close the door that he really started to worry.

He had checked his phone after he got out of the shower, noticed a few missed calls from an unknown number. It wrote it off as spam, but as he heard the door click as it shut he started to think differently.

“So–uh–what’s up, Cap?” He asked.

“Buck, sit down.”

Bobby was sitting himself as he motioned to the chair across the desk. Slowly and reluctantly, he moved towards the chair.

“O-okay.” He mumbled as he sat down, rubbing his hands on his thighs.

Bobby paused for a second, looking down at his desk before folding his hands and looking back up to Buck.

“I got a call when we got back from the station.” He said.

“Um…okay? I’m not–I’m not really sure what that has to do with me.”

His hands went back to rubbing up and down his thighs, his leg bouncing. What was so important about this call? And why did Bobby feel the need to talk to him about it?

“It was from Harbour.”

Buck’s face fell. His movements stopped.

“Buck, Tommy is missing.”

There was a pause between the two of them. Bobby letting Buck process, and Buck trying to get his brain to stop moving at a mile a minute.

Buck spoke first, “How long?”

“Since 11:00 last night.”

“He’s been missing for nine hours?” He replied.

“Buck–”

“Nine hours?! And no one said anything to me?!” He was standing now, starting to pace as his voice raised in volume.

“We were on shift. You didn’t have your phone–”

“I–I know that we haven’t been…together long, but…” He trailed off. “Nine hours?”

“They tried calling your cell when we were on call. Dispatch told them we were out and they called me when we radioed that we were back at the station.”

Buck sighed, he was holding back tears. He sniffled before wiping his eyes.

“Do they–do they know anything? Are they…uh…close to finding him?”

He was looking away from Bobby, watching the ceiling and trying to focus on anything other than the man in front of him. He knew if looked towards Bobby he would see that pitiful look on his face, one full of worry and sadness. He couldn’t handle that look right now. He just couldn’t. It would just open up the floodgates and he needed to stay put together right now. Needed to focus on Tommy, doing what he could to help.

Bobby had moved from behind the desk, walking towards Buck, slowly. He continued to stare at the ceiling, keeping his eyes off of his Captain, until he felt Bobby’s hand on his shoulder.

“Buck.”

He shook his head.

“Buck, look at me.”

He brought his eyes down to meet Bobby, eyes welling with tears and biting his lip. He watched Bobby shake his head before he let himself break down.

---

It was at hour fifteen that Buck really started to lose it. They had found Tommy and were going to get him now. Buck’s mind was racing of all the possibilities of what they would be walking into and what they would be bringing back. Every horrible call that he’s ever been on was coming back to him in waves, all the bad car wrecks and just how much damage they could do to a person. He couldn’t imagine what a helicopter crash could do.

Well, actually, he could imagine it.

He was imagining it.

And it was doing nothing to ease the panic he was currently feeling. His leg started to bounce more and he let his head fall as he tried to catch his breath. He felt a hand on his back as it started to rub circles into it.

“It’s gonna be okay, Buck-a-roo.” Athena mumbled as she pulled him in for a side hug.

He started crying again, silently letting the tears fall as he waited by his phone. He was waiting for a call from Bobby or Harbour or a hospital, really anyone that would have any information for where Tommy was and how he was doing.

He sat there, shaking and silently crying for the last two hours. Athena rubbing circles into his back and offering reassuring words. Hen had come over at one point, offering the same comfort, but she had to go home eventually. Chimney and Maddie were blowing up his phone with texts and when Buck didn’t respond they called Athena and Bobby to check on him. He overheard the conversations but he didn’t ask to speak with them, too much on his mind to try to get his mouth to form words.

It was 4:30 PM when his phone rang. It shook him out of his state. He snatched his phone off the table and answered it before it could get to a third ring.

“Hello?”

Athena offered to drive him, probably breaking too many traffic laws to count on one hand with Buck egging her on. He was grabbing the back of the driver and passenger’s seats, leaning forward and watching the road as Athena raced there. He would have started shouting our directions and orders if he wasn’t so focused on staying positive.

They told him that Tommy was alive.

Not only alive, but responsive.

And that’s all Buck could’ve asked for, all he needed.

Buck was out of the car and bursting through the hospital doors before Athena could stop the car. He didn’t wait up as he marched to the front desk.

“I’m here to see Tommy Kinard.”

His feet started moving before he even fully processed the room number he was given. He could hear footsteps following behind him, presumably Bobby and Athena. He grabbed the doorway as he entered the room to stabilize himself, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he saw his lover sitting up in the bed and alert.

“Evan?”

Buck nearly jumped his boyfriend at that, the only thing stopping him was seeing the state he was in. Tommy had one arm in a cast and a sling. His foot was in a cast and it was elevated on some pillows. His lip was cut deep enough to probably leave a nasty scar and he carried a matching cut on his forehead through his temple. From the once over, Buck assumed that it looked worse than it actually was. There were a lot of bandages and bruises, but Tommy was alert and whatever head trauma he faced didn’t seem bad enough to cause any amnesia.

Buck’s eyes welled with tears again, as he moved into the room. He reached out and grabbed his boyfriend’s face in between his hands and pulled him in for a soft kiss, resting their foreheads together when they pulled away.

“Thomas Kinard, don’t you ever do that to me again.” He let out in a half laugh, half hidden sob.

Tommy let out a breath of a laugh back before pressing a peck to Buck’s lips.

“You got it, baby.”

Yeah, everything was going to be alright.

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