#tw angst (kinda)
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boxer!rafe holding his baby for the first time, and knowing him he made sure you had a private room and good food.
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tell me why he would be so jittery though ??
୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀 ୭ 🧷 ✧ ˚. ᵎᵎ 🎀
boxer!rafe never had gotten as scared as he did when you had given birth.
waiting. rafe had been waiting for hours, holding a lucky charm that you had given him. the strands of the bracelet were frayed as he toyed with it, over and over again. the smell of the hospital was nauseating, and the feeling of being in a place that smelt like antibiotics and sickness made his skin crawl.
he had gotten the call that your baby was born in the middle of a fight. he was on top of a guy before someone stormed in the middle of the fight. that was uncommon, and the referee quickly had them separated before rafe realised it was your work friend, delany. she looked frantic, as she tried to mouth something.
the minute he realised what it was, he was pulling the ropes of the ring, and yelling at people to get out of the way. blood was splattered across his mouth, and his swelling knuckles stung with pain, as his sweaty t-shirt stuck to his chest.
your water broke.
he was there in minutes, swearing as he tried to close the car. he'd run into the hospital with a huff, demanding to know where you were. to be quite frank it may have been sweet to you - but it was downright scary to the nurses.
a bulky guy with blood splattered all over him, holding a silly pink baby bag. the first nurse let out an uncomfortable laugh before telling him to sit down. now, rafe would have started yelling, but there was this drumming in his heart that made him feel as if he was going to vomit.
he couldn't lose you, no, this was a critical part of all of it. he'd read those stupid books that you had gotten him about pregnancy, and how dangerous it was, and how many mothers had died and how to hold a baby, and, and-
(goddamn it, he was scared.)
"mr. cameron. would you like to come in?"
he looked up to see a nurse with a painful smile, he took a deep breath before nodding his head. rafe felt his hands shake, as he took a step inside the room.
there you were, pretty as always with that discharge night gown, and a relieved sweaty smile on your face. you look so calm, but his eyes zone on your hands. the baby isn't in your hands, and he found himself wondering where the baby was, but he watched you get up to touch him.
"hey, hey baby. calm down. you need to stay like that," he muses, coming closer to rub your shoulders. you close your eyes, a soft gasp coming out of your mouth.
rafe gives you a soft peck on the shoulder, "why didn't you call me?" he whispers in that gentle tone of his. you squirm, peeling open your eyes with those pleading doe eyes,.
"i didn't want to bother you. i knew-" you gasped out, "i knew you had that important match and shit, and i don't know i thought it was like a bad time-"
rafe cursed, "didn't i tell you it was the two of us together? i shoulda' been there for you. shoulda' have held your hand through this shit-" and he knew he's going on a tangent as your lip wobbled and he quickly licked his lips while shaking his head.
"nah, it doesn't matter now. aw, my sweet girl did this all by herself. let me," he muttered, rubbing tears off your cheeks, "where's the baby?" you sniffled, nuzzling your face in his hands, before pointing to the sinks where he saw a small tiny girl.
she's squirming in the nurse's hands, as she gets washed off. her tiny face is squished up as she lets out small squeals. he's struck by how small, how tiny, how he made that little thing with you.
"i-" he choked up unable to take his eyes off your baby, "thank you sweets. thank you." his head bowed down into your lap, the words like worship. he was a devout in your temple.
"here's the baby, ms. cameron."
you looked up at her, a little bundle of joy as the doctor put her in your lap. rafe felt like everything was complete, feeling his throat sting and his hands get clammy. god, what did he do to deserve this?
the baby was perfect, a tiny sweet thing and rafe's hands shook at his sides as you looked up at him with teary eyes.
"do you want to hold her?"
he swallowed hard, his voice that soft whisper you knew so well, "can i?"
you laughed something that was so sweet, ringing in his ear like a song he never wanted to end. yet, he couldn't help but look at you with approval and when he looked into your eyes all he saw was love. all he saw was the truth. finally, he reached for his baby girl, calloused hands cradling her.
he finally had found his family.
#boxer!rafe#rafe imagine#rafe outer banks#obx fic#rafe x you#fluff#rafe x reader#rafe cameron#rafe obx#drabble#tw pregnancy#tw mentions of birth#dad!rafe au#dad!rafe cameron#rafe concepts#rafe fanfiction#angst#rafe cameron x reader#outerbanks rafe#obx rafe cameron#rafe cameron prompts#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron imagines#shy!reader#ok i kinda hate this but whatever#ARHHH DYING OF CUTENESS#rafe cameron fluff
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you can't remember your last kiss with nanami kento. no matter how much you try, you just can't.
was it this morning? when he woke you up, newborn daughter in-hand? no, that couldn't have been it. because, after, he kissed you again, chaste, as he moved past you to get to the dishwasher.
and then again, when he set your breakfast on the table. another time after, too. when he settled on the couch with you and his baby girl.
but was that the last one? or, was there more after?
you can't remember. in your defense, you didn't have a reason to keep track. there shouldn't have been. the second you told him you were pregnant, he dropped the world of jujutsu. it was over, or it should have been.
speaking of, your pregnancy, it wasn't ever anything you really wanted. it was something he did. kids. it was his dream, you're pretty sure, the whole white-picket-fence fantasy.
and you? you didn't care, not much. as long as you had nanami, you were okay with anything. besides, he'd been so happy when you broke the news. it's not like you guys had been actively trying, which is why you were surprised to see his reaction.
but again, for him, you'd do anything. what did it matter, anyways? it was just a kid, right? and he'd be there every step of the way, right?
wrong.
it was another sunday, the three of you had been snuggled up in bed, just when he got the call.
"they want me to come in," he explained, softly.
"what?" you knew the answer.
"i won't go if you don't want me to. but, darling, i doubt they'd have called me in, if it hadn't been urgent."
you inhaled, watching him gently rock his daughter in his arms. "does- does that mean it's bad, then?"
"well, i'm sure it's nothing i can't handle," he informed you, paired with a soft smile.
"i don't know, na'mi. you said you weren't gonna go back." there was hesitance in your voice, one that trembled.
"honey, that's why i said it's up to you, okay?" nanami pressed his lips to your forehead.
if people really needed him, who were you to not let him go? what were you supposed to do? say no, let those people die? guilt gnawed at you. slowly, you nodded, looking up to meet his gaze.
so, you stood there at the door, watching him kiss his baby what should've been a temporary goodbye.
you can't remember if he kissed you goodbye, too. he probably did, but you can't remember.
"promise you'll come back to me?" you'd buried your face into the crook of his neck.
"of course, baby. i promise."
fucking liar.
oh, god, and when they told you there wasn't even a body to recover?
too much. all too much.
you think that you would've followed him, had there not have been his baby stopping you.
kiss, kiss, kiss; why can't you remember? why?
the cries of his baby, the baby that yearns for her father, they are etched into your head. you can't get her to stop. you don't blame her. you can't stop, either.
you aren't her mother. she isn't your daughter.
she's nanami's, but he's gone.
the only thing he left you with is a child you never wanted, a living, breathing reminder of his absence, of his broken promise, of the kiss you can't remember — the kiss that might as well have never happened.
#nanami angst has consumed my heart and soul#orrrr#maybe just jjk angst in general#ngl kinda teared up with this one#gege when i catch you gege#but um yeah#tw sui ideation#jjk nanami#nanami jjk#nanami kento#nanami x reader#kento x y/n#jjk kento#kento x reader#jjk angst#jjk x reader#jjk
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Call me dad
warnings: suggestion of forced turning, reader refuses to call Muzan dad, the upper moons are scared, reader is tied up, reader is tied up. GN reader
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Reader hated Muzan with a burning passion.
They hated how Muzan got angry when they didn't call him dad.
They hated how his anger was never directed towards them.
It made Reader feel like they weren't justified in their anger. But what they hated more was the forced cuddle time.
"I hate this." Reader mumbled, Muzan was having a meeting but since it was at the same time as cuddle time. Reader had to attend, they were tied up unable to leave his lap. It would feel domestic if Reader ignored the restraints.
The upper moons tensed. Muzan turned to Reader with sharp yet concerned eyes. "Are the restraints too tight?"
"I don't want to be here." Reader mumbled. "It's too loud., Muzan"
"Is it?" Muzan mumbled. "How sensitive you are, my dear but it's dad remember." Reader rolled their eyes. "Don't worry, I'll punish those pests for disrupting our cuddle time."
Reader scoffed and mumbled: "I think they should be rewarded instead."
Muzan's grip on them became stronger. "Don't say such foolish things unless you want confinement." Reader couldn't help but chuckle. "And you say I am sensitive Muu-zan~!"
It felt like a victory every time he got pissed, the upper moons terrified faces made it all worth it. "It 's dad, preferably papa." Muzan hissed.
"Oh, it is now?" Reader hummed with a grin. Muzan dragged his nails on Reader's shoulder. "It won't be when I die."
Douma looked up scared, the other uppermoons looked at Reader with wide eyes. "Are you threatening me with your death?"
They grinned. "Well, it is the one thing you can't control." Reader whispered in his ear for dramatic effect. "Is it? Perhaps I should turn you now."
Reader's eyes hardened. "As if you would." Muzan didn't want to turn them until they were an adult". But the more Reader opposes him, the more he wants to turn them. "Oh, I will."
Their young demon self would need guidance and would be under his full control. And he could command them to call him papa.
and he will take that opportunity gladly
#treefairy🧚♂️🍁#platonic yandere#soft yandere#yandere x darling#male yandere#yandere father#yandere#tw yandere#yandere kny#yandere demon slayer#yandere kibutsuji muzan#yandere muzan kibutsuji#yandere muzan#yandere muzan x reader#kibutsuji muzan#muzan#muzan kibutsuji#kny muzan#muzan x reader#x gn reader#yandere blog#kimetsu no yaiba#yandere kimetsu no yaiba#kibutsuji kny#kny x reader#muzan kny#kny imagines#kinda angst#angst#demon slayer muzan
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Gtober - day 9: Discovery
TW: Drawn blood, injury, mention of death
"I honestly thought you were gonna kill me that day..."
First. First meeting!!
#crazy but i think this is my first time drawing rain#like#ever#anyways#smallfolk are mostly treated like rats so he KINDA thought he was#doomed#its okay though bc Jone is very nice#gt#g/t#giant/tiny#sfw g/t#doodle#size difference#gt artist#my oc art#oc artist#my ocs#art#gt art#gtober#gtober 2024#gt ocs#tw: blood#tw: mentions of death#tw: injury#gt angst#angst#accidental fearplay#oc: Randall#oc: jone
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Now I’m thinking about you and ghost, together for a year, when he introduces you to his captain.
Ghost is obsessed with you—you’re perfect and can do no wrong and at first he’s over the moon when his captain shows interest in you. Two of his favorite people getting along? Win.
But Price isn’t nice, he’s always managed to crush anything he gets within his grasp, fingers squeezing too tight, no regard for the damage his toys receive.
So he starts to squeeze, and it hurts, and you turn to Simon for help. At first he tries to mitigate things, she’s not feeling up to hanging out tonight cap, come sit by me love, you should be nicer to her. But as all things do, it only escalated from there.
And Simon has to watch his captain, the man who makes sure he and his team come out of things alive, the man who always sees a straight path forward, the man who has Simon’s back . . . consume the person who makes Simon feel like he has a home to come back to, who tells him it’s okay to cry, who revitalizes him with food, love and care.
And Simon knows it’s not malicious on Price’s part, his grasp has always been the fingers he can claw into his prize, the desire to own in an uncertain world.
But how can he explain that in a way this sweet thing will understand?
So he has to stand back and watch as his captain leaves you bleeding and bruised, your eyes coming to him for help and he has to decide if he lets his captain continue playing with the person healing his soul . . . or step in and lose his team.
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Takeover
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Part #??? Out of #??? Of a fanfic I’ve been working on. I was planning on posting it to AO3 but it looks like I might be doing a comic adaptation instead. ; )
Yeah its the same fic as This Post.
And if you would like more context as to whats going on here, Read This.
#regretevator#regretevator infected#regretevator kasper#regretevator fanart#infected regretevator#art#kasper regretevator#implied skaterlight#but like only kinda#tw eyestrain#eyestrain#tw swearing#angst#tw angst#lampert is only meantioned so im not gonna tag him sorry#comic art#btw i also take comissions#for those who care#is this what youve been looking for??? is this the angst you wanted????#i hope youre happy. i am : )#i like to take infected and hurl him against the wall like that one fucked up barbie you definitely had as a kid#then i kiss him on the forehead#cause thats my job as an artist. make angst.#and by god (yeucc) i will serve this country (tumblr.com)
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Alternate Universe: In which Kafka self-sacrifices during the final battle.
#Kaiju No. 8#Kn8#Kaiju No. 8 Spoilers#(this is totally fabricated but I'm tagging spoilers just in case)#(mostly for the first two pictures)#tw blood#anyway today I woke up and chose violent angst lmao#kinda satisfied with the result#(however if this scenario ever happens in the manga i'm ending myself :))#Hibino Kafka#Hoshina Soshiro#hoshikaf#kafhoshi#manga edit#mine: edits
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For rlgl au, I wonder, how would the boys react if they were actively working on a client and that's when they finally spot Y/N at the job and recognize them? Like, Y/N having to come in and clean something up or some jazz, them catching a glimpse of their face during their 'act' and suddenly having the realisation that...
...Oh. They're here... Wait, what? They're here?!
* Cue sound of Y/N scurrying off like a cat that just got caught stealing food off the counter at the neighbor's house *
Dont mind me just leaving this here...
This is how that could work out (this is not like, a canon to the au, just some fun)
#dca fnaf#sundrop#moondrop#fnaf moon#fnaf sun#daycare attendant x y/n#rlgl au#my art#okay this is kinda angst but like soft angst#also sun is really good at playing it off towards the customer but moon knows something just happened#they talk about it immidiatly after the customer is gone#ngl big naturals gandalf is making it hard to take the angst seriously#cw suggestive#tw suggestive
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even though i loved you
#guess who forgot about tumblr for another month#it's okay im coming back (i think) i miss that dumpster fire sm#also YAAY SWOCKET ANGST🤩#phigting#phighting roblox#sword phighting#follower sword#rocket phighting#swocket#kuprum drew stuff#tw blood#←kinda?#tw character death#←very kinda#(I ALMOST STARTED PUTTING MY TMA TAGS HERE HELPP)#SoundCloud
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@pizzabox-box
started kinda making this while I was sick but whatevs I LOVE YOUR AU SM AAAAA
#bright colors tw#Pizza tower au#Fanart#Peppino#Fake Peppino#Feppino#Noisette#Gustavo#The noise#Blood tw#Kinda#ibs paint x#I love this au#This is angst right#angst#Multiple artstyle testing
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! TW Blood !
Really liked the idea of Jevin being possessed and prb killed Pinkie and Tan(I don't remember his name srry) so I drew this! :]
I also really like to think that Jevin's weapon would be shovel xp
It's kinda lazy made tho ¡v¡
#tw blood#tw dead body#art#digital art#sketch art#sprunki#sprunki blue#sprunki pink#sprunki jevin#sprunki pinkie#sprunki incredibox#i see this two as siblings#so we kinda can count it as sibling angst :]#my art#my drawing#my sketch art#my headcanon design#don't repost#only reblog
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( read in full on ao3 )
chapter one | chapter two
Pairing: BuckTommy - JonahTommy(past)
Rated: M
TRIGGER WARNINGS: Abusive relationship ; manipulation ; emotional trauma ; dom/sub undertone ; forced heart conditions
(Fair warning this chapter is 13k 🫣 I was going to split it… I changed my mind… i apologize for any inconvenience! To make it easier to follow … italics are flashbacks — present day is Buck POV / flashbacks are Tommy POV … up until the last lil bit!)
It has felt like this shift has gone by in slow motion, and there is still another hour before it ends.
Buck feels like he is on pins and needles as he mindlessly wanders around the lofted section of the 118… anticipating another long call to drag out the already drawn out morning. He is jumping into action the moment he hears the ring— it takes him a moment to realize it’s just his phone.
It’s Lucy.
His mind is racing to every worst case scenario and his hands are shaking when he brings the phone to his ear. “H- Hello?”
”Buck! God I hope you picking up means you’re still at the station…”
“Uh, ye- yeah… I am,” Buck replies, already taking the stairs down two at a time. “Why? What— whats wrong?”
”It’s Tommy—” Nothing more really needs to be said after that; he is leaving now regardless… But he knocks on Bobby’s door and steps inside anyway, putting the phone on speaker so they both can hear Lucy continue. ”He got a weird call… and he started getting really upset about it. He wouldn’t talk to me— next thing I know he is dipping out without an explanation and Cap just said he asked to go home.” There’s a pause, then a sigh. “He seemed really upset, Buck… I— I’ve never seen him like that.”
”Go,” is all Bobby says; it’s all he has to say. Buck turns on his heels and leaves without even changing out of his uniform first.
He pulls his Jeep to a stop behind Tommy’s truck and sees the front door sitting open. Not a good sign since Tommy has learned the hard way about opening his home to the many strays in his neighborhood— one destroyed couch later and he swore he was getting a screen door and no more feeding them inside. He still hasn’t got that screen door and yet now his front door is wide open.
Buck walks up the steps of the porch about to call out when he is hit with the scent of Lysol and bleach wafting out of the house. It's so strong Buck’s eyes start to water and he holds his breath as he enters the house. The hardwood floors are drenched like the cleaning chemicals have just been poured out and left.
“Tommy?” Buck finally manages around the hand covering his nose and mouth from the fumes. “Babe…”
There’s mumbling coming from the bedroom and Buck makes his way down the hall— carefully because the floors are slippery— and finds Tommy on his hands and knees next to a bucket with a scrub brush clenched in his hands. Bleach spots are covering his dark jeans and the skin on his hands is red and irritated…. He seems unfazed by both, and everything as he scrubs, all the while saying something Buck can’t quite make out.
“Tommy,” Buck tries again. He reaches out and touches Tommy’s shoulder, causing him to jump in response. “Hey— Hey, it’s just me…”
“Oh,” Tommy looks up at Buck through eyes as red and irritated as his hands. “H- Hi. Sorry… I was just—” He looks down at the floor and starts scrubbing again. “I won’t be long… I just— It needs to be sterile… it’s— it’s im- important that it’s completely s- sterile in here b- before we— we start… I won’t be long. I just— it needs to be sterile…” He is scrubbing back and forth, dipping the scrub brush and repeating, absolutely soaking the floor.
“Tommy…” Buck tries, again; and again he doesn’t get much by way of a coherent response.
“I’m— I’m almost done, baby… then we can… we can do whatever you want, okay?”
“I don’t want to do anything, Tommy… Lucy was just worried about you, I’m worried about you.”
“Why? I’m— I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not…” Buck sighs. Tommy continues to scrub dip scrub dip and Buck finally grabs his hand. “Tommy stop! What— what are you doing?!”
“Stop it! Let me go! It— It has to be sterile!” Tommy cries out, trying to snatch his hand back. “He’s— He’s going to be so mad if it’s not ready— It has to be ready when he gets home! It has to be—” His breaths are coming in short fast gasps and at some point he reaches up and wipes at his eye, instantly hissing in pain from the bleach water.
Buck springs into action hooking a hand under Tommy’s arm and hoisting him up and into the bathroom to flush out his eye. “Here, let me,” he says, guiding Tommy to lean over the sink so he can splash water up onto his face. He does it a few times then checks with Tommy on how it feels.
“Better,” Tommy says. He washes the bleach water off his hands, and leans heavily against the counter. “I’m losing my mind…” he says with a sharp sarcastic laugh. “Which— that’s exactly what he wants.” Buck runs a hand over Tommy’s back, and he thankfully loosens some of h the tension at the touch. He looks at Buck, eyes red and puffy. “Jonah called the station today… He— I don’t even know how he managed it… but he did— he asked for me, and I didn’t— I didn’t know it was him until—”
Buck wants to be angry— he is angry— but he needs to calm Tommy down right now. He pulls him into his arms, and presses kisses to his temple and his cheek. “I got you,” he says when he feels Tommy let out a shaky breath against him. “It’s okay…”
“It’s not okay,” Tommy says, and Buck’s heart breaks at how small his voice sounds. He reaches into his pocket and grabs his phone, then leads Tommy out of the bathroom, and the bedroom, and the house, into the fresh air, while he calls Athena.
He hopes the call to Tommy’s station will help them get Tommy out of the trial… but Athena unfortunately says it won’t. Jonah calling Tommy is not against the law because Tommy chose to not report any of the abuse he suffered, and a phone call alone isn’t grounds for a harassment accusation.
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Tommy waited outside the restaurant, nerves rattling, chewing on a cuticle until he was sure it was about to start bleeding. It had been almost a year since he’d been on an actual date, and he wouldn’t even be on this one if Howie hadn’t been so annoyingly insistent.
He talked him into downloading that silly dating app… talked him into taking his profile seriously… and talked him into taking the date with the seventh guy he matched with. Seventh because a.) the first six he’d quickly declined without even really looking at them, and b.) because Howie is almost comically superstitious. “Sevens a lucky number man! Come on. Give this one a try.” Tommy rolled his eyes, and said he’d look it over when he got home.
He did.
And reluctantly he agreed to the date.
He was almost certain he’d been stood up— five minutes late isn’t typically cause for concern, but his expectations were very low and his heart was still on the mend from its last break. That made five minutes feel like five hours, and he was starting to contemplate leaving when the guy finally arrived.
Jonah.
Still fairly new to California, and a paramedic with the Glendale Fire department… so he was a first responder like Tommy. He understood the job, that was intriguing enough. He held out a hand and Tommy shook it.
Pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes… he wore a flirtatious, but friendly, grin and a fedora. Tommy thought he shouldn’t have become so easily smitten with his charm… but damn was it hard. Tommy held the door for him, pulled out his chair, and let him order the wine— Jonah leaned in, lips curling up as he asked, “Do you ever just sit back and let yourself be the one taken care of?”
Tommy was at a loss of words.
Because he rarely did.
So he decided to dial it back, and Jonah slid into the role with ease. He paid for the meal, ran his hand down Tommy’s arm and laced their fingers together, and even was the one to pull Tommy into a kiss before the Uber came to take him away.
Their next date he did much of the same.
The date after that Tommy let Jonah take him home… take him to bed… take him apart. Jonah quickly became everything Tommy thought he had been missing.
It made it so easy— too easy for Jonah to become Tommy’s everything.
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Buck holds the door open for Tommy as they walk inside the Courthouse. He dips his head like he does every time Buck does anything for him— a look always crossing his face, like he is uneasy, or isn’t sure how to react to it— before he finally smiles and thanks him.
Buck used to take a little offense to it. He loved the pampering Tommy gave him, he’d never gotten that before… but he loved being the one giving, and doing. He loved spoiling and showing off his partner, but Tommy always got that look, so Buck tried to limit it.
Knowing what he knows now, he thinks he finally gets why it’s so unsettling for Tommy, and Buck is hellbent on reconditioning his boyfriend’s brain. Soon he will be able to shower him with affection and it won’t make him think a request, or some level of abuse is going to follow. He quickly returns to Tommy’s side and wraps an arm around him; Tommy immediately leans into the gesture, and Buck presses a kiss to his temple.
Tommy has progressively gotten more solemn since Jonah’s call— even more since he told Buck about the significance of the date the trial is on. “This year was going to be different…” he’d said. “I wasn’t going to have to think about it, or him… and now—” He sighed deeply and let his head fall into his hands. “It’s like I can’t escape him… no matter how hard I try.”
They reach the DAs office and Tommy collapses down into one of the chairs after being greeted. The DA is a shorter man, with a serious face. He doesn’t seem unfriendly but he doesn’t seem too approachable either. Talking to the DA would help them prepare for what could be coming, Athena said, and Buck wants nothing more than for them to get through this day as quickly and painlessly as possible.
Still, he knows to keep his expectations low.
As Athena had already informed them, Jonah’s call would get them nowhere by means of avoiding the trial. “However…” the DA went on to say. “We can try to prepare you for questions Mr. Greenway’s lawyer might hit you with.” Tommy takes a deep breath and nods, and the DA begins with some routine questions: What is your name? What is your relation to the defendant? Do you know why you were called here today?
“I’m actually not sure…” Tommy admits.
“S- Surely this man can’t think you would speak on his behalf… he— he tried to…” Buck stops speaking when Tommy slowly moves his eyes to him. This isn’t his business to tell, so he will let Tommy decide what to share with the DA and he will stay close for support.
Tommy sighs, and he retells his story. The DA listens, brows pulled tightly together. The story’s hard to hear, Buck can attest to that… but he is on Tommy’s side— this man doesn’t even know Tommy. There’s a pause once Tommy has finished giving the DA the gist. A long pause.
“Why would you allow him to do something like that to you, Mr. Kinard?”
Buck snaps into protective mode, an arm wrapping around Tommy’s back. “Hey, that— that sounds like you're blaming him—”
“I can assure you I’m not,” the DA sighs. “But, sir, do you honestly think the defendant's lawyer is going to be any friendlier?” Buck settles back into his seat with that; Tommy squeezes his hand, and he gives him a quick apologetic glance. He doesn’t want to make this any worse or more awkward for him… it’s just— he can’t stand the thought of people putting him down either… This wasn’t his fault, and yet Buck knows Tommy thinks a part of it was. “I know the question is heavy, and hard to answer… but please, if you would; help me to understand.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It wasn’t long before those bright blue eyes turned cold, and that warm inviting smile felt like it was masking something that made Tommy’s instincts scream at him to turn and run. Soon the care he insisted on giving came with a price, and that price grew and grew.
Favors became demands that soon were expected without question or prompting. The kind voice that had melted Tommy’s insides could so quickly fill with venom it left Tommy reeling from the whiplash and always wondering how he let himself get here. He was a little relieved Jonah wanted to keep their relationship private… Tommy was so embarrassed with himself for how absolutely toxic he let things become. He was so embarrassed with himself for being too weak to walk away.
So weak in fact when Jonah suggested living together, he didn’t hesitate to say yes.
“Nice going, stupid…” Jonah spat on their first night in the new apartment. Tommy had taken the day off to unpack, Jonah had a shift until 8pm. He just wanted to have dinner ready… but Jonah came home upset, and Tommy neglected the time trying to tame his temper. This led to that and even with the small fire quickly snuffed out, LAFD was contacted and en route to the apartment.
Thankfully it wasn’t the 118 who responded…
Instead, when Tommy pulled the door open as far as the chain lock would let him, he was met with 133 on the helmets and faces he only knew in passing. “Uh… hey! It’s— it’s Daryl right?”
“Hey, Kinard?!” The man seemed shocked to see a fellow firefighter at the scene of an alarm call, Tommy couldn’t really blame him. He was so embarrassed— maybe that was a good thing since the flush of his cheeks hopefully hid the redness Jonah’s hand left behind. He wasn’t always physical, and he always apologized eventually… Besides, it was deserved… It was fine.
“Y- Yeah… sorry w- we— I just moved in, and it’s been a long day... but everything is under control.”
“Mind if I check anyway?” Daryl asked. “Not that I don’t believe you…” he quickly followed it with. “It’s just my captain will be all up my ass if I don��t…”
It’s protocol. Tommy knew that. Jonah knew that. But no one knew Tommy and Jonah were together… “Uh, yeah… of— of course,” Tommy said, then slowly pushed the door shut. Jonah scowled at him and took off to the bedroom. Tommy could keep him in the kitchen— that’s where the fire was, that’s all he needed to see… Tommy hoped.
Thankfully it was, and Daryl assured him again it was nothing personal. “It's just… you know… the job.”
“You’re fine,” Tommy said, trying to slowly walk Daryl back to the door. “Rules are rules… Sorry you had to come out here for nothing!”
“Oh that’s fine; it killed time, and I didn’t even have to do anything since you already had it under control! I’ll see you around Kinard.”
Tommy pushed the door closed behind him
And waited for Jonah to wander out of the bedroom. He didn’t. He waited for Jonah to call him into the bedroom. He didn’t. He took a deep breath and made his way to the bedroom instead. “Baby…” he said, pushing the door open. “He’s gone, Jonah…” Tommy stopped just inside the room, staring at Jonah standing ominously beside the bed. A black bag sitting on top of the mattress.
“Must be nice to get recognition for what you can do…” Jonah said bitterly. “To have people know you are actually good at your job…”
“Baby… you’re amazing at your job! You know that.”
“I know that I know that, Tommy,” Jonah hissed. “It's them! My captain, my coworkers…”
“I know it,” Tommy counters. “I know that you are the most skilled paramedic out there. LAFD would be lucky to have you…”
Words that should have never left his lips! But he hadn’t known— could never have known Jonah would leave his department for Tommy’s…
“They would be… wouldn’t they?” Jonah said, slowly turning to face him. “Do you feel lucky to have me, baby?”
“Of course…”
Jonah walked over to him, his hands held out to Tommy and Tommy quickly took them; he quickly latched on to the first hints of affection after Jonah had been so angry earlier. “Would you let me take care of you? Let me repay you for the sweet thoughtful gesture… even though you failed miserably and now we have to order take out.” Tommy didn’t even flinch at the insult laced compliment. He was so embarrassingly used to it…
Jonah reached up and cupped Tommy’s cheek, still tender from earlier… Tommy leans into the touch— craves the gentle touch. “I’m so sorry…” he whispered.
“I know you are,” Jonah replied. “That’s why you’re going to do what I ask now, right?”
“Anything.”
“Good boy.”
He should have said no. He should have walked away.
Jonah led him to the bed and pushed him down to sit on it. Then he leaned down and began kissing him. It quickly heated up and Jonah eased Tommy’s shirt up and off; he gently eased him back to lie on the bed, climbing on to straddle his hips. He continued kissing him, kissing over him, while Jonah managed to keep Tommy pinned down to the bed like a weight with a simple ‘Don’t move’. Tommy was defenseless against his orders.
Suddenly Jonah was digging through the bag with one hand, pulling things out and sitting them beside Tommy’s body. He finally broke his lips away from Tommy’s skin and hovered over his face. “I want to try something with you, okay? But I need you to trust me…”
Tommy nodded.
“Use your words, Tommy.”
“I- I trust you.”
With that Jonah pushed up enough to grab one of the things that were now touching Tommy’s side. A rubber tourniquet… he began to tie it around Tommy’s arm. “You know I would never hurt you, right?”
Tommy nodded; Jonah glared. “Y- yes. I know that.”
“I’m good at what I do.”
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“You’re a- amazing… at what you do baby. The best.” That made Jonah smile. He leaned down and kissed Tommy again, softly this time. Tommy tried to chase after him as he pulled away but he held him in place with one hand. “Jonah…” he practically whined.
“Patience. I need to get everything ready.” Tommy watches as Jonah pulls on a pair of latex gloves, popping them to his wrist with an almost playful grin. He nervously laughed at it, and tried to steady his breathing. Then Jonah picked up a little glass bottle and a syringe…
“Jo- Jonah… what— what is that?”
“Shhh… you said you trusted me? Right?” Tommy didn't respond. Jonah didn’t seem to mind, too focused on drawing the liquid up into the needle. “I’m going to prove to you how good I am at saving lives.”
He puts the bottle down and flicks the syringe, squeezing the medicine inside up until a drop comes out of the tip. Then he begins to bring it towards Tommy’s arm. “I- I already know how good you are… you— you don’t have to prove anything to m- me.”
“Oh but believing and seeing are two completely different things, baby. I’m giving you the chance to see my skills in action.”
Tommy could have fought him off. He should have fought him off. He laid there instead frozen out of fear… and obedience. “I- I’m scared… Jonah,” he admitted, partially anticipating it to piss Jonah off. It surprisingly didn’t.
“Here… I’ll hold your hand,” he offered smiling and there wasn’t a single trace of love or compassion… Tommy had never seen a more insincere smile— it was enough, it would have to be. Tommy stared at Jonah’s face, at that smile… and clung to the memories of the very beginning, when things were good, and the made up future he knew he’d nerved have.
It started to work so fast. Tommy gasped and began to hyperventilate. Jonah leaned over him and kissed his cheek. “Jo- Jo- Jonah…” Tommy managed, feeling a tear slip from his eye. “L- Love you…” just in case he never got to say it again.
Jonah didn’t say it back.
Tommy’s eyes closed.
Then he felt a sharp jolt as life rushed back into his body.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was like just talking about Jonah drained every ounce of energy out of Tommy. Not that Buck could be too surprised, every new story was so heavy and intense— he imagined reliving those nightmares would be draining.
They ran into Athena near the front entrance of the courthouse, and Tommy nudged Buck’s arm when he stopped to talk. “No rush,” he quickly said before Buck could excuse them. “Just gimme the keys.”
Buck knows Tommy desperately doesn’t want extra attention given to him from all of this, so he doesn’t press to wait, or insist he just go with him and instead just hands him the keys to his Jeep. Tommy thanks him with a soft, tired smile, leaning in for a kiss, and getting a hug from Athena as well. She runs over his back before pulling back so he can go.
“How’s he holding up?” she asks once he’s gone.
“Barely,” Buck sighs. “This is— it’s so much bigger than what we knew… Jonah was— he is a monster. He put him through hell… and now—” Athena gives him a look like she gets it; he knows she gets it after her nightmare with Jeffrey Hudson. “I just don’t know what to do to help him.”
“Trust me Buck,” Athena says, reaching out to squeeze his arm. “You’re doing more than you think just by being there for him— with him. He knows you have his back, and Jonah is going to prison… He can not hurt him anymore. This is nothing but a hurdle.”
Buck nods. “You— you think we could have some extra security in the courtroom for the trial? Just— just as extra precaution.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thanks ‘Thena— what the hell!?” Buck gasps and leans his body over to better see around Athena and out the front doors where Tommy is standing at the foot of the stairs. He glares at the side profile of a woman with long wavy red hair standing in front of him. “Taylor…” Buck hisses and is moving without another word to Athena. “You have got to be kidding me,” he says loudly, taking the courthouse stairs two at a time.
She turns and flashes him that camera ready smile, and Tommy looks beyond relieved. “Hey Buck,” she says nonchalantly. “How’s it—”
“Save it,” Buck snaps back, and she actually looks surprised by the hostility. “Hey… are— are you okay?” He asks Tommy, who nods despite looking peaked and nauseous. Taylor looks back and forth between them; her curiosity is clearly peaked. “Come on, sweetheart…” Buck says, ignoring the way her eyes widen at the pet name and her grin stretches. “You don’t have to talk to her…” he says, gently nudging him to walk away from Taylor.
“Wow,” she exclaims, more so under her breath, brows raised, causing Buck to give her an exhaustive, questioning look. “I did not see that coming. But… I’m happy for you.”
Buck sighs at her friendly demeanor— the obliviousness as if she is doing nothing wrong. He knows she likely doesn’t think she’s doing anything wrong. “What are you doing here? Why are you talking to him?”
“I’m covering the trial,” she says point blank. “It was my story after all.”
“No…” Buck scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, Taylor, it was definitely not your story… you just made sure you were the one who got to tell it.”
“Buck—”
Tommy shifts beside him, and Buck sighs. He told Tommy that he and Taylor had dated… how it ended when she went behind not only his, but all of their backs and shared the story after being explicitly asked not to. He knows he didn’t have a leg to stand on with who hurt who more in their relationship; he’d cheated on her. It wasn’t about him, though… had he been the only one hurt by her rushing to get the credit for the story, he could have let that go. She hurt his family.
He isn’t letting her do that again.
“Don’t…” he cuts her off, unable to hear her excuses disguised as justifications. “You don’t care about the people who were hurt by him, you only care about your story.”
“This story is my way to help everyone hurt by Jonah. Telling their story. T- Telling Tommy’s story!”
“You don’t even know Tommy’s story.”
“I do actually…” she says.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He’d only just been released from the hospital, and had nowhere to go. He couldn’t go home— back to the apartment. Too many memories, and pretty much none of them were good. So he sat on a bench outside the hospital and scrolled through his phone, looking for a cheap hotel.
Footsteps approached and he had half a mind to ignore that they were clearly approaching him. He was so tired, and sore, and— fuck, a million other things… He just wanted to be alone. For once in a long while he craved the loneliness he knew was waiting for him. He can’t be hurt if there’s no one to hurt him.
“Hey, Kinard— uh, T- Tommy…”
Tommy sighed and looked up at Daryl. His hands tucked deep into his pockets, face pulled into a deep frown, his expression like he had a million questions and was unsure where or how to start. “Hey,” Tommy replied.
“I came to check on ya, after— after I heard about everything…” he explained. “Your place was all taped up; I— I thought…” he broke his eyes away and turned them to the floor, as he shuffled from one foot to the other. “I went out to Harbor and they said you were in the hospital…”
“You— you didn’t mention that me and— and Jonah were—”
“Nah, man…” Daryl quickly replied. He almost sounded offended Tommy would ask. “I knew you two were on the low… I wouldn’t— Fuck Jonah, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Tommy smiled up at him, trying to retain the facade he was holding himself together… at least until he was alone, so no one felt the need to pick up the pieces he is fully to blame for getting broken. “Thanks…”
There’s a silence that builds between them until it’s louder than the sirens of the ambulance turning into the ER… and the bustle of commotion all around them. It makes Tommy’s ears ring. Finally Daryl just spits it out. “Did— Did you know?”
“No…” Tommy answers. A part of him wants to be upset at the question, but how can he… He should have known, he should have stopped him. “Not until… just before he—”’
“You were in the hospital… be- because of him?” Tommy nods. “Did he— Did he do what he did to Han… to you?” Tommy doesn’t respond. Daryl’s eyes are watery; he sniffs and rubs a hand under his nose. “I— I always suspected he was— you just… you had that look, you know? I’ve seen it plenty of times; they— they want out but they don’t know how to leave. I hate that I never asked.”
“I would have denied it.” Tommy looks up at him. His own eyes are starting to get misty and he shrugs, offering a weak smile. “I loved him too much… I— I would have denied it…”
Daryl nods. He wishes Tommy well, and walks away.
A few nights later Tommy sees him talking to Taylor Kelly about working with Jonah. He never mentions Tommy, or his connection to Jonah; no one does. The officers, and detectives working the case promise he will be kept anonymous, and won’t be called in to testify.
It’s like Tommy is given a clean slate, to start over and forget all about Jonah Greenway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Who told you?” Buck demands, and Taylor sets her jaw, seemingly unfazed by the rise in his voice. “They had no— no right to tell it. You have no right to know it.”
“Like it or not I’m covering this trial, Buck… And in doing so I do have a right to the information surrounding it, and so does the public— including those who were directly subjected to Jonah’s reign of terror. Even if that’s not what he refers to it as…”
“You— You talked to Jonah?!” Buck practically yelps in disbelief.
“He asked to talk to me actually…”
Buck steps back, gawking at Taylor. “So I guess he is the one who brought Tommy into it.”
“He did,” she says. “But I didn’t buy it for a second… none of the things he said— I want to hear Tommy’s side of the story. I want to share Tommy’s side of the story with the rest of Jonah’s victims.”
“I’m not a victim,” Tommy— who has been extremely quiet the entire time— finally says. Buck wraps an arm around him, tries to object and Tommy tenses, pulling away. “I’m— I’m not… I’m not. I wasn't forced to— to let him… I let him because— because I’m weak.”
“Tommy,” Buck tries, and Tommy shakes his head.
“I should have— I could have stopped him. I didn’t and someone died, Evan…Howie almost died. Now it’s all coming out and— and I deserve this…” He looks from Buck to Taylor, with red rimmed, teary eyes; his breathing coming in sharp gasps.
Buck recognizes the panic attack immediately; he’s had multiple since getting the summons. He pushes past Taylor to get Tommy the rest of the way to the Jeep. He opens the door and ushers Tommy onto the passenger seat. “Just breathe, Tommy. You’re okay,” he says softly, one hand rubbing over Tommy’s back the other holding his head steady so he keeps his eyes up on Buck’s.
“I- I should be— be on trial with him… Evan. I- I should be in prison with him,” he cries before clutching at his chest. Buck tries to assure him that’s not true and everyone— Hen and Chimney… even Claudette’s family— would say the same, but Tommy shakes his head. “Ev- Evan it— it hurts…” he gasps, tapping on his chest.
“I know, sweetheart, you just have to steady your breathing, so you can calm down, okay?” He runs his thumb over Tommy’s cheek, leans in so he can press their foreheads together. “I’m right here, I got you… you’re safe. I’m here. I love you.”
Tommy finally exhales, shakily. “I love you too…” he replies, sounding exhausted.
Buck’s heart is breaking for him, then out of the corner of his eye he sees Taylor, notices the recorder still in her hand, the red light still lit.
“You’re seriously still recording?!” Buck snaps, before stepping away from the Jeep so he can close the door and put something between her and Tommy. “You have no idea what he’s been through, Taylor… You may think you're helping, but— but you’re not.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
36 year old male. No known health problems. Suffers from cardiac arrest after being rescued from an oil rig collapse. Dies in the back of an LAFD helicopter during transport to Presbyterian.
Tommy listened as their medics tried time and time again to resuscitate him. He listened to the loud buzzing of the flatline until they called it and turned the machine off. Then came the silence. Respect to the departed, and all that… but Tommy hated it. In the silence his thoughts had freedom to get loud.
A heart attack… at 36? They’d clip your wings so fast…
Tommy couldn’t remember another time in his career that a simple transport took so long. When he finally returned to Harbor Station he could feel his pulse in his eyeballs, and he still had fifteen hours to go. It was only his first day back… He got a couple concerned questions throughout the rest of the shift; he brushed them off. Somehow he managed to get through it.
He got back to the airBnB he was staying at (just until the loan he’d taken out for a fixer upper on the outskirts of the city cleared) early the next day and crashed through the front door. His breathing was coming in gasps and his heart was pounding. Jonah’s voice was in his ear telling him everything he’d done wrong, everything the medics had done wrong. I would have saved him, his voice said. Who’s going to save you?
Tommy made it to the bedroom, got over to the bed and tried to just lay down. He curled up on his side, closed his eyes… It did not help. It felt like there was a weight on his chest, pressing him down into the mattress and pinning him in place. Unable to move, unable to breathe…
This is going to be how you die, Tommy… All alone.
At the foot of the bed were the few suitcases filled with everything he owned. Somehow he managed to move down the bed to reach them and got the first one open. He dug around the clothes inside until his hand bumped against the bag with the defibrillator he’d used on himself.
It took him a minute but he got it out, set it up, and attached it to his chest… all the while it felt like his heart was over pumping blood to his head, and it was about to explode.
He clutched at his chest, trying to suck in a breath. He collapsed back onto the mattress once everything was ready, trying to slow his breathing. The machine whirred as it came to life, scanned his heart, and Tommy waited anxiously. Shock not advised. Tommy exhaled and ripped the pads off… He curled back up on his side and cried.
Cried because he was apparently okay.
Cried because he really wasn't okay…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s a little chilly in LA the morning of the trial. The sun is hidden behind a blockade of thick clouds, casting a dreary kind of lighting over the city. It’s fitting, Buck thinks.
The first thing he spots as they pull into a parking spot is Taylor’s van parked up by the courthouse. She changed her approach from live coverage to an overview after the trial. Buck wonders if it’s because they didn’t greenlight the live coverage, or if, perhaps, she’d had a minor change of heart. He hurries around his Jeep to Tommy, sliding an arm around his back protectively as they start up towards the courthouse entrance.
Taylor is on the other side of her van giving what Buck assumes is an intro piece. They walk past her with Buck giving a warning ‘Don’t even think about it’, when she spots them and seems to be about to approach them.
The courtroom is already filling up; families of those Jonah had hurt, come to hopefully see their loved ones receive some kind of justice. Also among them are those who Jonah had attacked— both unknowingly, and knowingly. Hen and Chim wave at them when they step through the double doors. “Can we sit in the back?” Tommy asks, eyes locked on the defendant’s chair— still empty, for now.
Buck tightens his hold, pulling Tommy closer to his body so he can press a kiss to his temple. “Of course.” Still the distance doesn’t soothe Tommy’s nerves much, and the closer the clock brings them towards the trial, Tommy starts getting more antsy and anxious in his seat, so Buck wraps an arm around his shoulder. “Just focus on this side, your family… me. Ignore him.” Tommy nods and relaxes into Buck’s embrace, and just closes his eyes. “I got you,” Buck assures him.
Almost the entirety of the 118 shows up. The 217 come as well; Lucy stops at Tommy and hugs him before finding a seat. Sal even drove down for support to his old friends. He smiles at Tommy, sitting down in front of him and Buck, cracking a joke about catching Jonah outside the courthouse to Buck that makes him laugh, and Tommy rolls his eyes with a soft smile.
“So how about that crew that has your back when things get hard?” Buck whispers in Tommy’s ear.
He smiles. “I’m sure Hen and Howie— and the others— are very grateful to everyone for being so supportive.”
Buck feels his brows pull together. “They’re here for you too, Tommy.” That gets him a look of distress more than relief. Buck is sure he hears him mumble ‘I doubt that…’ but he doesn’t question it.
The side doors open, getting everyone’s attention, and Jonah is led into the courtroom handcuffed and shackled, bearing a maniacal grin that makes Buck’s stomach turn; how could he look so smug— so happy. His eyes scan the courtroom and eventually find them tucked away in the back corner, and the grin widens. He does his best to lift his hand, and waves.
Jonah looks between Buck and Tommy, laughing when it seems to click that they are together. Tommy eventually lifts his eyes, meeting Jonah’s and as soon as he does Jonah blows a kiss in their direction. Buck tightens his arm around Tommy. “Just don’t look at him,” he whispers, and Tommy nods, turning his eyes back down to his hands. He picks at the dark blue polish on his thumb nails; he had let Jee paint them the day before… It helps stop him from biting them.
The judge enters, they rise for her and sit back down… and the trial begins.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He should have died that night.
Tommy sat on the porch swing he just finished installing. Tested that it would hold his weight then kicked off with his feet. He looked out at his little section of the quiet neighborhood and wished it felt more like home.
He’d wanted this with Jonah. He’d suggested buying a house when Jonah brought up living together… but Jonah never wanted permanence with Tommy. He sees that now. He didn’t want anyone to know they were together, so when he inevitably wasn’t able to resuscitate him one day— or he just didn’t want to— he could leave and it would look like Tommy’d had a heart attack.
Except when that day actually came… Tommy survived.
He should have done something…
When Hen was telling him what they found, he should have taken that information and stopped Jonah before he ever had a chance to go attack them. He knew where Jonah kept his bag of supplies. He could have hidden it. He could have refused to go get it.
He’d known what Jonah was capable of… he’d seen it first hand.
“You have no idea how much you help me, baby.” Jonah had said one time as they prepared for their little game of life and death. Tommy always said the last time would be the last time… and yet he always ended up back in that chair… “You’re helping me keep my skill set sharp… if I didn’t have you, who would I have to practice on? It’s not like I can just… use an unsuspecting person on a call…”
“You— you wouldn’t—” Tommy countered quickly, but Jonah leaned in and kissed him, before sticking the needle into his vein.
“You are so special to me. You help me so much…” he said.
That shut down every alarm he’d set off. Now, instead, Tommy felt important— he felt like he was vital to Jonah.
He should not be free…
The letter in his hands felt heavy as he continued to ignore it in lieu of focusing on his surroundings. The cool breeze, the neighbors out talking, the kids riding bikes.
Numerous calls from the prison to his cell, until he changed his number, and then the letters started coming in. First they were addressed to the apartment, and came mixed in with his other redirected mail. The one he was holding, however… was made out to his new address.
That made Tommy feel sick.
He didn’t open it. Instead he ripped it up and tossed it in the outside trash can.
A few days later a man showed up at Harbor.
Wiry shoulder length hair, and wide bloodshot eyes. He walked right up to Tommy and said he’d been chosen by the Angel of Death. He said that he defied him by not dying that night. He said one day the Angel would be back for him.
His captain said the man sounded crazy and called the police to come take him away.
Tommy slept with his defibrillator that night… He attached it and randomly checked just to hear the ’shock not advised’ message. Then he would settle enough to just about fall asleep, before his heart rate would pick back up— memories would flood back in… and he’d have to check again.
Shock Not Advised.
Shock Not Advised.
Shock Not Advised.
Shock Not Advised.
Shock… Advised…
“Huh…” Tommy mumbled, half asleep. He turned the machine off then back on and waited.
Shooock… Adviiiised…
The words were not the machine's usual mechanical voice. This voice was garbled and distorted. This voice… sounded like Jonah
Shhooock- ck- ck… AAAAd- Adviiis- sed… Advi- viseeed…
Shock… Advised… Advised… Advised…
Shock…
Shock…
SHOCK!
It was yelled right in his ear and his eyes shot open. His thumb over the button, tense and ready to press it. He snatched it away and ripped the pads off his chest… grabbing the machine and carrying it to his closet. With tears in his eyes, and his heart pounding perhaps the hardest it ever had before… he shoved the defibrillator to the back of the top shelf.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chimney is the first to be called up.
“Please state your name for the jury,” the DA says, stepping around the table and towards the stand.
“Howard Han,” Chimney replies, his friendly smile on full display despite the situation at hand. It stays put through the DA’s list of questions, through his retelling of his version of the night he and Hen were attacked, then how he saved them by fighting back. “Well I had already been killed and brought back upteen times, upteen and one might have been the real deal… I had to do something,” Chimney jokes.
Buck watches Maddie sigh and run a hand over her small bump; Karen pulls her into a hug. The details of that night hang heavy over everyone’s head. It causes him to cringe as Chimney continues to light heartedly crack jokes with the DA, making light of it… It causes Tommy to tense and shift uncomfortably next to him. At some point he just leans forward as if he’s resting his head in his hands… but is really covering his ears.
“Hey… I’m alive,” Chimney says after the DA apologizes for his questions and for bringing up difficult memories. “I get to leave here and go home to my beautiful wife and daughter, about to be two daughters— so save your condolences for my sanity, I’m tripley outnumbered here—” the courtroom erupts into laughter. “Those memories mean nothing to me anymore.”
Buck looks to see Jonah’s reaction… or lack of more like. He’s not even donning his crazy grin anymore.
The DA takes a seat.
The defense attorney stands up.
“You never worked with my client, is that correct Mr. Han?”
“That is correct,” Chimney replies. “He was at the 118 in my absence; he was transferred very close to my return. I hardly knew the guy…”
“You were familiar with his partner at the time, though…”
Chimney looks at the man confused, and thinks for a moment. “His partner? I— I mean I know of him… Daryl Richards, I believe.”
“No,” the defense attorney laughs. “I’m talking about his romantic partner.”
“Like I said, sir… I hardly knew the guy,” Chimney says, and the defense attorney smirks, opening his mouth like he’s about to dive into an explanation. “However, yes. I do know that he was with Tommy at the time of all this,” Chimney says first.
“Did you know this at the time?”
Chimney sighs, looks over towards Buck and Tommy sympathetically— though Tommy is still hunched over and doesn’t see it. “I did not,” he finally admits.
”Is it correct that you used to work with Thomas Kinard, on the 118? You even stayed in touch with him once he left.”
“That’s correct.”
“Would you call your relationship that of friends?”
“We are friends. Tommy is a very good friend.”
the defense attorney nods along, twirling a pen around on one hand as he pauses before the next question. “Then why didn’t you know about his relationship with Jonah… until now?”
Buck tightens his arm around Tommy. “What the hell is he going for here…” he mumbles under his breath.
Chimney quickly deflects the somewhat accusatory question with a shrug. “I’m not owed insight into his love life, I don’t care if we were the absolute best of friends.” The teasing tone of his voice is gone, and he’s having quite the staring competition with not only the defense attorney, but Jonah too. Buck watches him go from glaring at one to the other.
“I knew he was in a relationship at the time, and the person wanted to keep it quiet. Tommy respected him enough to do so, and I respected Tommy enough to not pry. That's all there was to it.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Come on, man! You can’t keep this from me, we're buddies!” Howie practically whined. Tommy smiled around the opening of his beer bottle and rolled his eyes. Tommy was quite a few dates into his and Jonah’s relationship and Howie was curious about… ‘who it was that had him smiling like that.’
“He’s, uh— he’s very private, and he’s not fully out yet.”
Howie threw his hands up, quickly defeated. “You know what, I don’t even care…” he said. “All I care about is that you’re happy, and as far as I can see mopey Tommy is no longer reeling from his heartbreak and this new cheesy Tommy is absolutely adorable.” Another eyeroll, except this one, is accompanied by a deep blush spreading across Tommy’s cheeks. “Speaking of adorable,” Chimney continues. “Look at her,” he breaks out a picture of Maddie, deeply sleeping on the couch— her mouth hanging open, her hair a mess. “Morning sickness is really kicking her butt.”
“She’s gonna be kicking your butt if you keep taking pictures of her without her knowing, then showing them off… and I’ll hold you down so she can!”
“Hey now, you’re supposed to be my friend here, traitor!”
Howie laughed; Tommy laughed. Both were so happy with their lives at that moment… both would lose that happiness so very soon... At least Howie got his back…
*
Tommy knocked on the door to Howie’s hospital room. He’d just been discharged moments earlier, but Howie would probably be here another day or so. “Hey…” he said, pushing the door open, and walking inside.
“Hey Tommy!” Howie said brightly, despite the peakedness in his eyes. Jonah had really done a number on him, it made Tommy sick to his stomach. “What brings you in?”
Tommy could never tell when Howie was just fucking with him, or is serious. So if Hen had told him everything, Tommy wasn’t sure. The facade never let up, though. Howie never mentioned Jonah more than a remark about the incident, then in true Howie fashion he was on to other— much happier— topics.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Once Chimney leaves the stand, and is walking back to his seat, Tommy finally lifts his head back up. He quickly averts his eyes from Chimney, looking back down at his hands, at the window… at the jurors. Chimney bypasses his seat and comes right over to Tommy’s, pulling him into a hug. “I love ya, man.”
Buck hears Tommy suck in a sharp shaky breath. He nods into the embrace and mumbles something inaudible, but Chimney smiles at it and returns to his seat.
The next person called up is Hen.
Again the DA sticks to the source material. Asks about her time working with Jonah, his transfer, and Claudette’s untimely death. He has her explain her suspicions, and her findings… and finally, once again, the court is hearing her own recount of that night.
Again… the defense comes for Hen’s friendship with Tommy. “So Mrs. Wilson… tell me about the call you received the day of the attack.”
Hen sighs, likely since she already talked about the call with the DA. “Jonah called me—”
“So sorry to interrupt you, Mrs. Wilson… but not that call.” Hen stares at him confused. “The one before that. Is it true you received a call from Mr. Kinard before you spoke with my client. He was upset with you… for digging into my client's past.”
“I’m sorry, I’m confused how you even know about that…” Hen says without answering.
“The cameras…” Tommy whispers, then laughs sarcastically. “I- I always… suspected…” he continues, looking at Buck. “He would know things: things I’d done while he was gone, people who came over, things that were said. I knew he had cameras on me… I just never found them.”
The defense requests Hen just answer the question, and the judge presses that she does as well. “Yes. I spoke to Tommy that day, and— and he was upset I was digging. Yes.”
“He asked you to drop it, correct?”
“Yes.”
The attorney gives another drawn out pause. He walks over to his table and takes a sip of water, and Buck catches him locking eyes momentarily with Jonah. “Were you aware Mr. Kinard encouraged my client to get to know you, Mrs. Wilson?”
“I was not,” Hen says.
“How does that information make you feel?”
Hen narrows her eyes at the attorney. “I don’t understand… Am I supposed to feel a certain way from that?” She doesn’t give the man a moment to counter her statement with more questions before saying, “Tommy is a friend. Jonah was my partner. It makes sense he would like for us to get along.”
“But you didn’t even know they were together.”
“That doesn’t matter.”
The defense attorney scoffs. “Did it not matter when you were being attacked? When you were watching your best friend have his heart stopped and restarted, over and over and over.”
“That had nothing to do with Tommy,” Hen snaps back. “I- I don’t understand these questions. Jonah is the one on trial, not Tommy. Why is this suddenly about him?”
“I’m just trying to see the full picture here, Mrs. Wilson,” the man says, calmly. “That perhaps— at the very least— my client isn’t the only one at fault…”
Buck nearly leaps out of his seat at that, and Tommy holds on to him tightly to stop it.
“Jonah is the only one at fault here,” Hen says. “I almost lost two friends that night, because of him,” she looks directly at Tommy as she says that. “He deserves to rot in jail.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hen pulled up out front of Tommy’s house.
He walked out of the garage where he’d just finished setting up his Muay Thai mats and a workout bench, and waved at her. “Sorry for my rugged appearance,” he teased, gesturing to his haggard appearance: a stretched out and holey shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and some tattered gym shorts. “Wasn’t expecting visitors…” He never expected visitors.
“Chim said your new place was niceee…” Hen laughed. “I needed to see for myself.”
They navigated to the kitchen island, sitting on the barstools with glasses of sweet tea, catching up. “How’s Howie doing?” Tommy asked.
“He’s better,” she replied, resting her head on one hand. “How are you doing?”
Tommy shrugged, and sighed. “I’ve been through worse,” he said… and he had… but at the same time, this hurt was so different. It was deep rooted, and he wondered if he’d ever be truly free from it.
*
It didn’t take long for Evan to almost have him free from it. He worked tirelessly— and in the beginning… he didn’t even realize he was doing it— chopping away at the bigger roots, breaking them up and killing them.
“Still managing to keep up?” Hen asked approaching him after Evan announced, at one of Bobby’s summer barbecues, that he and Tommy were going on a vacation away together. Just a few months in and dropping an insane amount of money to have Evan all to himself for four days and three nights… yeah, he would find a way to manage for that. “He’s a lot to handle… I’m sure,” Hen laughed, looking over to where Evan was playing with all the kids.
“Yeah, well… He’s worth every bit of it. Besides, I’ve handled way worse.”
The two were silent for a while, then Hen smiled and nudged him with her elbow. “I’m happy for you, Tommy,” she said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buck paces back and forth in the hall.
They were dismissed for lunch and Bobby offered to go grab everyone some food; Buck doubts he’ll be able to eat anything. He is too pissed. “What is he— is he trying to pin this all on Tommy?! Is that even legal? Can he do that?! Jonah is the one on trial here!”
Maddie has taken Buck’s place beside Tommy, and is currently trying to distract him from the meltdown Buck can’t seem to stop himself from having by talking to him about the pregnancy. He smiles sympathetically— appreciatively.
“Jonah is facing life without the possibility of parole…” Athena says. “His lawyer is probably hoping if he can deviate some of the blame to someone else, the jury won’t be able to agree on that.” Buck sees Tommy flinch at that, knowing he is the ‘someone else’.
Suddenly the doors pull open and the DA hurries out. “Great! I was hoping you all hadn’t gone far,” he says. “So change of plans. Tommy… I’m calling you up before Bobby.”
“What?!” nearly the entire group says unanimously.
“B- But I thought I wasn’t going up until the defense had the floor,” Tommy adds.
“You weren’t,” the DA replies. “But I don’t like how his attorney keeps bringing you into the narrative. If I don’t get you on that stand to tell your side of the story… before he labels you as an accomplice… your side might not matter to the jury.”
Not surprisingly after that, no one has much of an appetite once Bobby returns with the food. Everyone just sits and stares at their meals, solemnly waiting to return to the courtroom.
The DA calls on Tommy as a surprise witness when the trial starts back up. The defense doesn’t seem to care, and the judge allows it. Buck wishes he could walk him to the stand, but the only comfort he can offer is a quick kiss before he goes.
Just like in his office, the DA asks Tommy a series of common questions; the same ones he asked Hen and Chimney. Then he explains that the defense is making it seem like Tommy was an accomplice in the defendants reign of terror, when in fact he was not; he, too, was subject to it. He turns to Tommy and apologizes for asking him to share what was surely such a difficult time in his life, but he feels it is only fair given how the defense keeps implying Tommy played a part. “If you would, share with the jury exactly what your role in Mr. Greenway’s life was.”
“A mistake.” Jonah suddenly blurts out, earning him a gavel strike from the judge and his lawyer hissing for him to be quiet. But the word seemed to have an effect on Tommy.
“Please, Mr, Kinard…” the DA urges him to share his story, and once again— in front of his friends and family, and a bunch of strangers— he does. The courtroom falls into an eerie silence as he tells how they met, how they connected… how they quickly went from a normal couple to the toxic mess they were in the end. “I am so sorry for all you went through, Mr. Kinard. Just… one more question. Did you have any idea Jonah was going to attack Mr. Han, and Mrs. Wilson.”
Tommy shook his head, a tear falling from his eye. “Not until it was too late.”
The DA thanks him, and offers a smile… before passing the baton to the defense. The man pushes up to his feet and greets Tommy. “I thought we’d be having this conversation much later, but… no time like the present when it comes to justice being served, am I right?” He doesn’t wait for Tommy to respond before he is walking around the table and towards the stand. “You had been dating my client for quite some time at the time of the incident, isn’t that correct, Mr. Kinard?” Tommy swallows and nods. “I need you to verbally answer the question, sir.”
“Y- yes… almost two years.”
“And how long had these… games— or, role plays, as you called them— been going on for?”
“A- A while…”
“Please elaborate on how long a while is,” the attorney says, crossing his arms.
“It— It started about seven months after we got together. Right after we moved into our apartment.”
The attorney nods along with the information, walking towards the jury as he says, “That’s more than a year you allowed this man to enact these— would you say, experiments on you.” Again Tommy only nodded. “Out loud, Mr. Kinard.”
“Y- Yes…” Tommy replies, bringing a shaking hand up to wipe his eyes. Bobby has moved to Tommy’s spot, and has a hand resting on Buck's arm, ready to grab him if he moves.
“So for more than a year, you were aware of what Mr. Greenway was capable of.” Tommy looks up at him, opening his mouth to speak, but no words come out. “For more than a year you were aware he had access to propofol. You were aware because you allowed him to use it on you. You allowed him to stop your heart, so he could then revive you… as part of some pretty dark game between the two of you, and yet you never suspected he might do it to someone else.”
“I- I didn’t…”
“What about when you called Mrs. Wilson, and she told you what she’d found.”
“I didn’t believe her at first.”
“At first?”
Tommy tries to steady his breathing, wiping furiously at his eyes. “No. Not until Jonah said what he was going to do.”
“And you just… didn’t try to stop him.”
“I- I called the cops on him.”
“You did…” The lawyer agrees, but is looking at Tommy like he’s got two heads. “Why didn’t you just stop him from leaving.”
“I couldn’t,” Tommy gasps out.
“Why wouldn’t you just stop him from doing this things— playing these games— these role plays, if you weren’t actually enjoying them.”
“I— I couldn’t!!”
“You couldn’t… or you chose not to.”
“I wanted to stop him!” Tommy cries out.
Buck wants to leap across the courtroom, scoop Tommy up and run out with him. He’d expected it to get ugly… this is almost too much to bear.
The attorney steps close to Tommy and leans himself against the stand by his arms. “You have a very troubled past, so I’ve heard, Mr. Kinard… perhaps you got off on power finally being in your hand, just the same as Mr. Greenway did.”
“That— that’s not true…”
“Then why didn’t you stop him,” the attorney repeats. “He was going to attack two of your so-called friends… and you did nothing to stop him.”
“I wanted to…”
“But you didn’t. You let him leave. You let him attack them. He almost killed Mr. Han, after the man saved your life… Perhaps that’s what you wanted him to do.” Tommy looks at him with tears in his eyes and shakes his head. “Use your words, Mr. Kinard.”
“He told me not to move,” Tommy snaps loudly. “I s- swear I didn’t know he was going to do this… but I couldn’t have stopped him regardless.” He breaks his eyes away from the attorney and looks towards Chimney and Hen. “I’m so- so sorry…” he cries then keeps repeating I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry… until his eyes lock on Buck’s, and he finally seems to be able to take a deep breath.
“Someone needs to stop these questions…” Buck says softly.
“He told you not to move,” the attorney repeats, ignoring how Tommy only nods at that. “Let the jury note that Mr. Kinard is more than twice my client’s size…” he says with clear humor laced through this voice. The DA objects, the judge allows it. Buck is getting more pissed by the second. He watches the defense attorney turn and look at Jonah. He watches Jonah’s smile widen, and he nods approvingly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The control Jonah had over Tommy was… embarrassingly strong.
Tommy was so eager to just make him happy— keep him happy— so when he wasn’t, Tommy was upset by it. Jonah targeted that reaction and played with it. He built on it and poked at it… until before long, all he had to do was yell at Tommy for long enough and his heart would give out.
It took time… and Jonah still needed to administer a little propofol at the end to fully seal the deal. But it was like a fun pastime for him. He would go from sweet and attentive to screaming in Tommy’s face and calling him every name under the sun— until Tommy was crying and gasping for air, overwhelmed and on the verge of passing out.
Sometimes he would pass out, only to wake up from Jonah shocking his heart back.
After Jonah… Tommy didn’t think his heart could handle much of anything anymore… much less falling in love.
There was one time with a guy who approached him during Karaoke Trivia Night. He was bold… brave, but not in a good way. He pushed boundaries the moment Tommy tried to set them, and took with no intention of giving anything in return… It boiled to a head by the third date when the guy started going off about some minor mishap with their meal and began screaming at their waitress.
Tommy tried to de-escalate the situation but only it caused him to turn his annoyance and anger on Tommy; calling him too soft and a pushover. Tommy felt like there was a vice around his lungs and he couldn’t draw in enough air to give proper oxygen to his brain. He ended up in the ER, and single that night.
No more… he told himself after such a disaster.
Sal, at some point, tried to set him up with one of his cousins. Lucy offered to introduce him to a former colleague she thought was his type. He thanked them and declined. Howie teased the idea of getting back on the dating apps… but instead he introduced him to Evan— unintentionally, of course… But he set him up with the best thing to ever happen to him.
Not that it was always smooth sailing.
He only just managed to stop a panic attack from happening during their first date. He told himself he’d read Evan wrong— he was good at that it seemed— and he tried to cut him loose before he got too entangled in the idea of the sweet, big hearted, impulsiveness that was Evan Buckley.
Then he got the text. Meet me for coffee? And just a moment later it was followed by a pls :) He was so adorable,Tommy couldn’t help but humor whatever he had in mind for the meeting— even if it was just closure.
Of course, it was so he could apologize… and then immediately invite him to Howie’s wedding— which he was already invited to, but he definitely didn’t mind being Evan’s date at all.
Evan was kind… in a way Tommy had never known before. He was patient and attentive. He was clingy— holy fuck, he was so clingy… but not in a bad way. In a way that made Tommy feel special, and wanted… and loved.
Tommy felt loved by Evan…
And it made it so easy to love Evan in return.
Throughout the six months Tommy was so wrapped up in all things Evan… he was completely blindsided when his past came back to haunt him. He should have expected his little bubble to burst eventually…
He opened his door to his mailman handing him the certified letter calling him in as a witness in Jonah’s trial.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey! That— That’s enough!” Buck yells, jumping up to his feet regardless of Bobby’s hold on his arm.
“Buck sit down,” Bobby hisses, tugging on him.
“No… he— he is getting off on this. Look at him!” Buck gesture wildly at Jonah, who laughs— he actually fucking laughs. Buck clenches his jaw and starts out into the aisle as the judge bangs her gavel down in protest.
“Sir, do I need to have you removed from this courtroom?”
Athena beats him out and stops him before he can start towards Jonah. “Outside… now.”
“B- But Athen—”
“Now, Buck!”
She gently grabs his arm, and leads him out into the hall… Buck turns to see Tommy watching, panickedly, as the doors close. He sighs and plops down on a bench waiting for her scolding… it surprisingly doesn’t come. “Athena… he— he is trying to— I don’t know what he’s trying to do. But he’s acting like Tommy is—”
“We all knew this was going to be hard, Buck. For everyone… but mostly for Tommy.”
“I can’t stand seeing him upset like this,” Buck replies. “Knowing I can’t— I can’t do anything to help him.”
“Keeping yourself calm is helping him… not winding up in jail… is helping him.” She raises her brows and smirks. “Remember what Chim said… at the end of the day we all get to walk away… Jonah doesn’t.”
Buck wants to agree, though he doubts it will be that simple— the door cracks open before he can pick one. “Buck…” Taylor says and her voice is carrying a concerned tone that has Buck instantly back up on his feet. “Your man’s not looking too good up there…” She steps aside and lets Buck back into the courtroom only for him to see Tommy gripping the arm of his chair with one hand and his chest with the other. He’s Gasping for air, and both Hen and Chim have been allowed up to try to check on him.
Jonah, leaning forward like he’s trying to see better, looks thrilled.
Suddenly Tommy's eyes pop open, so wide they look like they might fall out of his head and he looks at Jonah. “Please… please please please… Jonah. H- Help…”
Buck looks at Jonah who dons an innocent smile as he holds his hands up as high as the cuffs will allow him and shrugs. “No can do, baby…” he says. Tommy gasps and tries to stand up from the chair. His eyes are still locked on Jonah as he continues to plead for help from him.
“We need some help in here,” Chimney yells towards the cops standing guard by the door. A couple ran out to get paramedics, but haven’t returned. Those left try calling them on the radio. Hen tries to guide Tommy out of the chair… he doesn’t budge, his eyes don’t move from Jonah’s.
“Fascinating isn’t it…” Buck hears Jonah say to his lawyer, who looks equally as upset at the sudden turn of events as everyone else does. “After all this time he still knows who has control of him.”
“J- Jonah…” Tommy whimpers from the stand. His lips are starting to turn blue and Buck hears a mayday call from one of the cops walkies that there is a disturbance in the lobby. Paramedics are being held up by a group of “crazy people saying the Angel Of Death will have his revenge”.
“Let him help…” Buck blurts out, thinking it just might be the only way. Hen and Chimney look at him in shock. His attention is only on Tommy, who looks about ready to pass out. “He— he needs Jonah…” he says, and tries to pretend the thought doesn’t hurt. “Let Jonah help him.”
The judge rolls her eyes, but allows Jonah to be led to the stand. His handcuffs are undone so he can reach up and cup Tommy’s cheek. “Oh, baby…” he says and Tommy leans into the touch. “You’ve been so good for me,” he coos. “So predictable. So weak.” Tommy doesn’t even flinch, but his breathing doesn’t steady either. “Just like all the other mistakes.”
“W- What…” he gasps.
“Except your mistake was staying alive… when you were meant to die.” Tommy’s brow furrows as he tries to pull away from Jonah. “At least I actually get to watch it happen now.”
Buck feels like all the air sucks out of the room as Tommy’s eyes widen, then flutter closed, and he stops breathing. “Get him away,” Hen screams, and the deputies re-cuff Jonah and pull him to the side of the courtroom. Hen and Chimney get Tommy out of the chair and onto the floor, and Chimney starts CPR.
“W- where are those paramedics?” Buck screams at the cops.
“No pulse…” Hen says at the same time, and then Buck is moving to the front of the courtroom. off to the side Jonah is laughing… and Buck just wants to rip his head off. A hand grabs his shoulder before he can march over to him; Bobby is there telling him Jonah’s not worth it… he needs to get to Tommy.
Buck listens, and goes instead to where they have Tommy laid out on the floor. He takes his hand and brings it to his lips. “H- Hey sweetheart,” he says.
Hen checks for a pulse, looks at Chimney and shakes her head.
“You- You’re safe now, we— we got you. You're gonna be okay, okay… you have to be” Buck says to him.
No pulse.
“You know what I— I had planned for that date, for our anniversary? I was going to tell you my lease is up in a month… I was hoping you would consider living together… be- because I want that, so bad. I love you so much and I want to spend the rest of my life with you, sweetheart. I need you to wake up so I can tell you that, okay?
“Let us through,” the paramedics yell, finally getting to the courtroom.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“You are nothing,” Jonah used to say when he’d get mad at Tommy. “Without me you will forever be alone.”
Tommy had truly believed that. Until Evan.
Until Evan he pictured a life of loneliness and a broken heart.
With Evan, Tommy imagined the most beautiful life. A home finally full of happiness, and love, and laughter. A man who might someday be his husband. Who looked at him like he hung the moon. Who treated him like he was worthy of good things.
He saw a future. He saw children. He saw them growing old together, and turning gray. He saw the things he’d only ever dared to dream, finally becoming a possibility… For the first time in his life he was truly happy with no strings attached, and he deserved that… right?
“You are nothing…” Jonah used to tell him.
“You’re my everything,” Evan says instead, and he sounds like he’s crying. Tommy can feel Evan’s hand in his, and his hand is trembling…
The cool metal of shears slide up his skin as his shirt is cut open. Nodes are placed on his chest and he is checked for a pulse. “No pulse…” he hears. “Clear…” he hears.
“I love you…” he hears. It’s all he needs to hear…
He opens his eyes, and he takes a breath.
*
At the hospital, after he is thoroughly checked and Evan is given the green light to go full cling mode… he does just that. Hen gives him hell about laying on top of Tommy. “It’s okay he’s like a weighted blanket,” Tommy laughs, willing to argue with anyone who seriously tried to pry Evan off of him.
“I was so scared,” Evan says… again, peppering his cheeks and eyes and nose and forehead with kisses, before coming back to his lips.
Tommy smiles, and holds Evan to his chest. He lets him rest his head there and listen to his heart, so he knows it’s really beating.
The hospital wants him to start seeing a cardiologist. Eddie is quick to chime in with a suggestion; Dr. Salazar… Evan laughs against Tommy’s chest saying that Eddie is only saying that because he has a crush on her; but he recommends her as well, from his own experience, as does Howie, and Bobby. “It’s kind of sad that you all have a designated heart doctor if you think about it,” Tommy deadpans.
Athena slides into the room, and makes her way over to Bobby, letting everyone know Jonah’s lawyer quit. He said he was told grilling Tommy would make him confess to being a part of Jonah’s work… he didn’t know it would cause him to nearly die. She also says Tommy has done his part, and will not have to reappear when the trial picks back up to conclude… although she’s sure Jonah’s little power stunt won’t sit well with the jurors when it comes to lessening his sentence from life without parole.
“What about me…” Tommy asks. “Will I be charged? Or— Or lose my job?”
“Why would you,” Evan rebuts, lifting his head to look at Tommy. “You— you didn’t do anything.”
“I doubt everyone feels that way…” Tommy sighs.
“Then they can keep their very wrong opinions to themselves,” Hen says. “I don’t hold anything against you.”
“Neither do I,” Howie says, with that bright smile.
“The ones who matter, have your back…” Evan says, pressing a kiss to Tommy's jaw. “We all love you.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
One month later
“Do we have to do this right now,” Evan pouts, dragging his feet behind Tommy as he enters the closet. He comes right up behind Tommy and wraps his arms around his body. “There are so many things I would rather be doing to you— I mean with you— on our day off.” Tommy feels Evan’s lips curl into a smile against the back of his neck.
“You… are a menace,” Tommy laughs, turning in the embrace to face Evan. He leans in and kisses him, slow and passionately, until Evan is sighing into it. “Soon as we’re done, I’m all yours.”
That gets him a deep pout, and he nips at the jutted out lip before turning and moving clothes over to make room for Evan’s, and pulling out things to get rid of. He reaches up to the top shelf, all the way to the back… and pulls out the defibrillator.
Evan stares at it, running a hand across Tommy’s shoulder. “Here,” Tommy says after a long pause. He hands the machine to Evan who looks at it confused. “Donation pile.”
“Are— are you sure? Wh- What if—”
“I don’t need it anymore,” Tommy says, feeling the tug in his cheeks from the smile that’s spreading across his face. “I know my heart is in good hands.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
@sunnywithachanceofbi @weewookinard @xtarmanderx @racerchix21 @sad-girl-hours23
@laundryandtaxesworld @swagmaster9k @iphyslitterator @adian-ua @littlepaws9
@exhaustedpirate @unhingedangstaddict @quintessenceofdust88 @mrhappyjavaman @bibibievansbuckley
@owlgirl495 @babygirltommykinard
#bucktommy#tommy kinard#evan buckley#118 firefam#tw abuse#tw manipulation#tw heart#angst angst angst#i consulted with a medical professional soooo I kinda know what I’m talking about :)#That is a lie wrapped in a truth… I did talk to someone in the medical field… i still have no idea what I’m talking about#I did not consult with a lawyer/judge so definitely court inaccuracies#medical inaccuracies#many many many inaccuracies#But they get a happy ending so YAY
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My Headcannons for how Infected and Kasper operate
Buckle up, this is a long post. Thinking about how characters function in relation to the world around them is basically a hobby of mine, so expect more. (I have others planned for both lampert and unpleasant at the very least)
(Not ship related) (angst heavy sorry)
Kasper’s infection is a brain-rooted/cognito-hazardous parasite
He got it after purposely ignoring a chainmail curse, both as a sort of “fuck around and find out” as well as an outright form of self-harm/self-sabotage.
The parasite is the one that primarily controls all the conscious actions of infected, while kasper now acts sub-consciously.
Its less of a split-mind situation and more of a Venom + Eddie or Gundam + Pilot situation they are two separate entities inhabiting the same body that can potentially act at the same time
It just so happens that the parasite from the chainmail curse has VERY similar desires/interests/motivations to Kasper, so the host/parasite relationship actually works very well.
Infected accidentally makes Kasper lose a decent chunk of weight after it takes over, due to it not being able to feel when Kasper is hungry and forgetting to let him eat
Kasper and Infected can be addressed separately (Lampert, UnpleasantGradient, Folly and maybe a few others know this) and Kasper tends to choose not to respond due to his own apathy, instead opting to let Infected take the lead.
Being able to respawn/no permadeath on the regretevator is the reason why Kasper opted to infect himself, as he saw it as the next closest thing to death/suicide.
Allowing infected to enter his mind has radically reduced Kasper’s lifespan. (He’d be lucky if he made it to his late 30’s)
His nose bleeds when Kasper and infected try to act at the same time
Infected is only transferrable via chainmail
Infected doesn’t feel any of the bodily necessities that kasper has, so its not uncommon for him to collapse of exhaustion, dehydration, hunger, ect. If someone doesn’t remind him.
Infected doesnt feel pain either
Kasper feels it though. A lot.
In fact the whole process of infected entering his mind was incredibly painful as is.
Infected isn’t the reason why things in the elevator/on his own body suddenly lose their texture, neither of them know why that happens now.
They personally aren’t physically effected by it and both find it cool, so neither are bothered.
It’s probably just the result of infected’s malware (thats only technically supposed to effect machines) managing to attach itself to a human. Or maybe Kasper could do that and never previously knew. Who knows. ;)
Kasper/infected can phase through objects that are textureless, including parts of his own body. Anything else will collide as it normally would, and take damage.
Infected will always talk with full leetspeak, (L13k D1$) while Kasper will only have one letter/number substitution (L1ke Th1s)
UG unintentionally named infected that. Basically just looked at Kasper, who had just let a parasite into his mind, and looked at the chainmail virus on his computer, and it went “huh… Bro’s Infected”
Bro is, in fact, infected.
#if anyone wants to know#regretevator#regretevator infected#regretevator kasper#infected regretevator#kasper regretevator#also if anyone has thoughts on this lmk i wanna hear them#i am gonna be posting a fic about this btw#two actually#its a confusing dynamic and tbh thats the point#this guy is actually genuinely seriously messed im im so deadass#i might do a more lighthearted sequel to this if you want it#angst#sh trigger#tw sui ideation#tw s3lf harm#tw sui implied#please feel free to yell at me in the tags#and also to tell me any more tw tags to add to this post#that way i can add them#bc tumblr has a stupid amount of tags for what is basically the same thing and its kinda annoying. just pick ine so people can block it.#my personal cannon
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my body's aching like a knock-down drag-out
and my poor heart is an open wound A Childhood Friends Au snippet that very briefly delves into Danny's life post-accident. CW: Mild Mentions of Blood, Violence, VERY mild gore ig. Danny briefly recalls getting impaled during a fight.
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What they don't tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it can hurt. That it can hurt more than when you were alive. That when you die, the emotions you die with stick with you like a leech that just won't let go. That emotions are ugly little thorns that stick their barbs into you and grow beneath your skin; or, at least, whatever’s left of it.
Danny is familiar with anger. It kept him warm in Gotham, when his parents weren't home from work and he and Jason were crowding Crime Alley with their presence. It kept him warm in Amity, when the fresh sting of moving was still needling into his heart and he wanted nothing more than to rip and tear into the closest person next to him.
He's familiar with violence. With fights. With death. He's seen people die in Crime Alley probably every day. From overdose, from gunshots, from stab wounds; anything that can kill, rest assured he's seen it. He's familiar with getting his own knuckles rough and bloody when other kids turn and bare their teeth at him and Jason; they're all just starving dogs stuck in a fighting pit, primed and ready to rip out each other's throats.
Black eyes, stomped hands, bloody noses. You name it; he’s had it. Gotham is paved with the blood of her children, and Danny likes to imagine that when he was born, the doctors handed his mother a file and told her; “Take it. He’s going to need it for his teeth.”
Danny’s mom (and dad, for that matter) was too busy trying to keep him and Jazz fed, so Danny stole the file from her drawer with Jazz’s help, and did it himself.
He’s familiar with anger, he thought he was getting better at it these days. It doesn’t come to him as easily as it did before. Of course, that was before Jason died.
Danny is less familiar with grief. Caring kills and Gotham kills the caring, so Danny cares very little about other people. Or he tries to. But grief hurts. His grief hurts. It hurts too much. It hurts like a bug trying to crawl out of his chest; like a rat chewing a hole through his heart. Some days he wants to dig his hands into his hair and split himself down the middle. Some days he just wants to scream.
He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.
He wants the whole city to hear him wailing, some days. It sticks itself in the back of his throat like bile, and Danny is one wrong retch away from letting it loose. It sticks in his lungs like all the tar he’s smoked in since he was nine. It pushes and aches at his temples, in his head, like his brain is trying to swell out of his skull. His thoughts becoming so loud they threaten to commandeer his tongue.
He has no mouth, but he must scream.
Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it hurts. That it hurts more than when you were alive. Something they don’t tell you about being dead is that it’s violent. That it’s bloody. Or as bloody as it can be when everyone has no blood.
Another thing they don’t tell you about being dead, is that it’s a lot like Gotham that way.
With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies forget death itself. Blood comes easy, like water, and teeth are encouraged. Bring your own fangs to the fight. Dying is something you can just walk off.
Danny’s been dead for three months. He can’t say he’s been walking it off easy. He’s perfected the art of turning his nails into claws since his heart was still beating, but he can’t say he’s perfected fighting other ghosts.
Scrappy is just not enough.
He feels like he’s back in Gotham again. Back in her death-shroud alleyways, fighting someone bigger than him. But there’s no Jason to watch his back, and Danny has to get himself out of there alone. Or he might just not get up at all.
Black eyes, busted lips. It’s familiar to him like an old scent, Danny isn’t quite sure that he’s missed it. It’s more familiar than his fights with Dash.
But there’s no one else who can do it but him. Not Sam, not Tucker. He can’t lose them too. He can’t. He can’t. He can’t. His heart can’t take another break, he already feels like he’s going insane.
With no threat of death, Danny’s enemies fight like death themself. He learns why when Technus puts a street sign through his stomach one day. It pins him to the asphalt like a moth pinned by its wings.
Danny claws at the metal like how an animal caught in a trap chews off its leg, and every move is blinding pain. He thinks he was howling, but it’s hard to tell. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his voice.
He bleeds green. It mixes in black with the pitch blackhole in his heart, which throbs and twists and cries in time with his reckless panic. The finger-choking terror of dying again strangles out the air he doesn’t need. His blood evaporates, only to reabsorb into him. It just bleeds out again, cycling like a snake eating its own tail.
Danny breaks his nails clawing at the metal, and eventually gets it in his mind to pull it out. So he does, and the end drips ectoplasm green as he gets to his feet. In red-vision, Danny sends the sign back with snarling, vicious fervor. The pain is irrelevant in his rage.
Only after the fight does the hole the pole left start to close. Danny doesn’t shift human until it’s gone. Unlike other injuries, a scar stays behind. Ugly; mottled, it aches for a week with every twist and stretch his body makes. He hates it.
Being dead is agony.
Every part of him is in pain. Every step, every word he speaks, everything he does, it is prerequisite with pain. The body is temporary, but the soul is forever, and death has carved into it with its freezing green hands and left him with never-ending heartache. It has torn from him and stolen what of him it could, and in return it’s left him with sorrow.
His pain is his grief, and he’s sobbed in the safety of his room more times than he can count. It’s still as fresh as the day he heard the news of Jason’s death. He knows, instinctively, that it will stay fresh forever.
In his room, Danny shoves his hands over his mouth and shrieks in whatever, muffled way he can into his pillow. It’s not enough. It’s never enough. He needs to be louder. He needs to be heard. He refuses to be.
Being dead hurts.
#tw mild gore#cw mild blood#cw mentioned violence#dpxdc#dp x dc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#dp x dc crossover#dead on main#dp x dc au#dp x dc fanfic#cfau#cfau danny#obsessed with the fact that danny just has the WORST fucking time after jason dies and baby i can make it worse#*kills you and makes you a banshee and puts you in an irrevocable state of grief*#delicious angst. danny is having the wORSt time ever lol. lmao even#was originally meant to explore the idea that danny can survive lethal injuries as phantom. which briefly got mentioned.#but i got away from myself. leaning reaaal heavy into the fact that danny's a banshee. At 19 he's got a pretty good handle of himself#but imagine being a fresh out the gate banshee. usually they get time to themselves in the zone to cry until their heart's content.#sorry danny. you have school tomorrow and family sleeping in the bedroom next door#kinda proud of myself. you can kinda see how Rath would've occurred here.#danny is going through it rn#was gonna add a snippet about the city's thoughts on phantom but couldnt fit it in
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CRINGY ANGST WARNING RAAAAAA!! Oh also sui ideation? Technically? I guess??
He’s tired.
He just wants to float in space by himself and watch the stars sometimes. Is it unhealthy to daydream about that?
#rbs>>>likes (i would normally say but im embarrassed abt this one)#also thats kinda supposed to be a supernova bc I#LOVE.#THEM.#and uhhhh im not saying anything else on why i decided on a silly supernova#sth#sonic the hedgehog#sonic au#sth au#au#sonic#art#my art#against the better judgement of stars☆au#so cheery and happy trust!!#tw sui ideation#<3#oml im so cringy but thats why im here<33#cringe#tagging it for fun#also im kinda projecting with the daydreaming bit (i dont actually wish that to happen to me#i just think WAYYYY too deep sometimes LMAO ^_^)#sonic angst#angst#YAY ANGST
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Unlike pt. 2
–--
2/?? — Fractured Fascination
<-first
TW!: Blood, Injury
Word count ~ 1100 words
—--
Jone walked home through Dalsby's damp and slush-filled streets much quicker than usual. Partially, it was from the rain that had suddenly started barreling down in the already cold weather. Partially, it was because he wanted to get his groceries home. Partially, it was a long day at the school he was training to work at, and he wanted to have a quaint evening to himself. But really, it was the slight weight in his coat pocket that made him rush.
Jone had briefly heard of tiny people before in the past, about maybe three to four years ago. "Smallfolk," the news had called them, "the newly discovered cousins of mankind!" And despite knowing of their ever present, but very ignored existence in his town, it was shocking to actually see one– let alone carrying one home.
He eventually reached his door and half-mindedly pulled out his keys...realizing he had placed the smallfolk in the same pocket. The student received a panicked yelp in response; the cloth of his jacket swaying slightly with the miniature man's sudden movement. Immediately, Jone retracted his hand with the keys, muttering a quick apology as he opened the front door.
He haphazardly dropped the groceries he had cared about just a bit ago by the front door as he walked in, as well as his scarf and ear warmers that went flying onto the floor.
Jone then walked back to his desk after he hurriedly made his way into the kitchen to grab his first-aid kit.
"Okay... I'm going to lift you up now. Please don't be scared," Jone stated carefully. He hadn't a clue if the man spoke a lick of English since he didn't say a word during their time spent, so he tried to speak slowly and gently to get the general point across.
After waiting patiently for a response that didn't come (or one he didn't exactly hear), Jone hesitantly reached into his pocket and retrieved the smallfolk. He struggled from beneath his fingers, and the experience was more than strange — not to mention fascinating for the relatively average man.
A single delicate and shakey arm pushing against his digits, the other pinned against the panicked smallfolk's side. The faint heartbeat against the base of his thumb fluttering so inhumanly fast with the concerningly thin and writhing torso surrounding it. His quick and strained breathing was the only other noise in Jone's usually quiet home aside from the rain pattering against his roof outside.
Jone realized he was staring and far longer than he– well, technically unintended. He placed his hand on his desk and opened his palm, allowing the smallfolk to roll off with a pained grunt. Jone reached for the med kit, opening it with a click that made the stranger flinch.
He watched as the man sat up hunched on his knees, watching him in return, his little sharp eyes warily tracking each and every movement. Jone made sure to do things as slowly and as quietly as he could to avoid startling him again.
"You don't have to be scared," Jone assured as he took out supplies, finally looking away, "I don't intend on harming you." The smallfolk remained silent, his narrowed eyes never leaving Jone's face.
Eventually, Jone retrieved a few alcohol pads. He took his eyes off the smallfolk for a moment to rip the paper-like packaging open. "Well– this will sort of sting... nothing too bad, though. I'll need you to stay stil– wait, stop–"
The man's head swiveled up to stare back at Jone, his sunken eyes wide. Of course, the moment Jone had looked away, the stranger managed to crawl halfway across the desk.
He yelped and recoiled as one of Jone's hands loosely cupped around him, the other hovering over with one of the alcohol pads. The larger of the two carefully slid the cold wipe beneath the blood-soaked, makeshift shirt. The smallfolk hissed at the sensation, tightly shutting his eyes as his chest heaved. It went from his side to his arm, and then his leg — which, on closer inspection, was broken.
Jone pulled his hand back, his palm shifting beneath the trembling smallfolk. With careful precision, he pressed a band-aid over the bleeding wound, grimacing at the sight of it. The cut wasn’t deep enough to hit anything vital, but the sight of blood on such a fragile body still turned his stomach.
As he rifled through the med kit, his fingers landed on a roll of bandages — much better suited for the job. He hesitated as he brought it closer, his movements slowing as the smallfolk’s sharp, fearful breaths quickened.
The task was painstaking. Jone’s fingers cumsily fumbled with trying to get the bandages around the man's miniscule limbs, the scissors shaking slightly in his grasp. Each snip of the blade made the tiny man flinch, his fragile body recoiling from the sound.
“It’s alright,” Jone murmured as he cut yet another misplaced bandage, "please stop struggling..." He received a frightened yelp and a panicked jerk away after it was removed. Luckily, he only had one last thing to patch up... but unluckily, it was the broken leg. Jone felt sick just staring at it.
He improvised a splint, breaking the wooden bit off of a cotton swab he got from the med kit. He delicately slid his forefinger beneath the smallfolk's leg, his thumb lightly brushing over top. He winced sympathetically as he heard him gasp in pain, knowing what was about to come.
Jone leaned forward in his chair as he began to very slowly, very gently, shift the broken bone into place. The stranger caught onto what he was doing, his eyes widening, darting to look up Jone. He was preparing both himself and the smallfolk, preparing for a quick and hopefully painless–
—Tug!
The man screamed in pain, reeling back against Jone’s palm. His face glistened with tears, his breath shuddered with strained sobs; almost as if he was trying to suppress the pitiful sound.
"...I'm almost done, alright...?" Jone carefully put the makeshift splint beside the smallfolk's leg and shakily, yet efficiently wrapping them both.
"There," he breathed, slowly withdrawing his hands. The guilt that churned inside of Jone wanted him to continue speaking to the smallfolk. But, with the man as he was now, questions and small-talk could wait for later.
Jone's mind roamed back to what he meant to do before this: go home, put groceries away... Dinner. It was far later than he ever had it before, and his hunger became apparent as it came to the forefront of his mind. And, from the man's gaunt form, he assumed he was hungry too.
"Try to get some rest," Jone said, placing the warm hand towel across the smallfolk's freezing body. He pushed himself to stand from his chair, moving towards the kitchen.
What a day.
—--
THIS TOOK A WHILE HUH.
Ran into,,,, many issues writing this,,,
BUT ITS HERE !,
I also made a drawing that includes a part from this chapter .
#Criticism will be#appreciated ☝️!#i kinda bullied randall this chapter......#gt#g/t#giant/tiny#sfw g/t#my ocs#gt writing#writing#oc writing#tw: injury#tw: blood#accidental fearplay#size difference#angst#angst writing#gt angst#finally came up with a name btw#i think. it fits.#oc: Randall#oc: Jone
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