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tomtenadia · 5 months

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Detours to You - ch 14

Hello all, As promised, here we are with anew chapter and the resolution of the cliffhanger from the previous chapter. Please be ready for a lot of fussing and domestic fluff.

MASTERLIST

“There has been an accident.”

Rowan’s heart raced “What is it Ilias?”

“Aelin and Maya. We are with them now.”

“Where?”

Ilias gave him the location and Rowan dressed quickly like a madman.

He should have pushed harder. Stopped her from driving away. It was his fault. It was his bloody fault.

It did not take long for him to drive to the site, the blue sirens of a fire engine guiding him like a lighthouse.

As soon as he was on site he darted outside and saw the paramedics loading Aelin on the ambulance and another paramedic holding his daughter.

“Maya!” He screamed in desperation.

His daughter extended her arms to him and he took her in his embrace “I am here.”

“Mama hit a deer.”

Rowan stared at Ilias doing his job and pretended not to see the front of the car smashed against the wall of a house. It had been the owner who had alerted the firefighters after he heard the crash.

“It looks like she swerved to avoid the animal.” The captain pointed at the prints on the snow. “Paramedics say she is fine, just a concussion and likely some nasty bruises on her chest. The seatbelt did its job.”

Rowan nodded.

“You know the protocol, we need to take them to the hospital.” One of his paramedics took Maya back from his arms but the girl protested loudly and his heart broke.

He tried to soothe Maya “Baby, I need you to go with the nice paramedic and your mum to the hospital. I am right behind.”

Maya held him tighter almost in panic.

The paramedic tried again to grab the girl “Come with me darling, your mum is asking for you.”

Rowan thanked silently the paramedic when Maya followed him inside.

The ambulance drove away and he turned to Ilias “Was she conscious when you got here?”

The captain nodded and scoffed “yes, that woman is stubborn. She was trying to get herself out of the car.”

“Go with them chief, I got the scene, and a tow on its way. This is an easy MVA.”

While on the road he had called Aelin’s parents and by the time he arrived at the hospital, they were just entering the A&E. He called Rhoe’s name.

“Rowan!” Evalin walked to him with terror etched on her face “What happened?”

“Aelin and Maya were coming to stay with you,” he confessed not hiding his shame. He hadn’t been hard enough in trying to convince her not to leave “We had a fight. I begged her not to leave so late in the evening and with all the snow.”

“Aelin did not listen.” Added Rhoe deadpanned, surprising him.

“A deer cut in front of her and she just swerved to avoid it and crashed.”

Evalin gasped in horror.

“They are fine. One of my captains called me at the scene, Aelin was awake and Maya is just scared. Aelin apparently fought the firefighters trying to get out of the car.”

“I am sorry, she inherited the stubbornness from me.”

“Rhoe!” Added Evalin shocked at her husband jokes.

“Ev, Aelin has been pigheaded since the day she was born.”

Rowan smiled and then walked to the nurses station “Hi Sorscha, any news on Aelin and Maya?”

The woman checked “Med bay 5, the doctor is with her. Maya has been taken to paediatrics for a check up.”

He let Rhoe and Evalin go and talk with Aelin’s doctor while he rushed to Maya. The hospital was a maze and it took him a good ten minutes to reach the ward.

“Maya Galathynius?” he asked with apprehension.

“Any relation?”

“I am the father.”

The nurse let him go and in the distance he saw her on a bed holding elf in her arms. A nurse was sitting with her and was offering her a juice box.

“Dad!” She screamed as soon as she spotted him. In two quick steps Rowan was at her side and enveloped her in his arms. He then looked at the nurse.

“She is fine. We did a lot of checks but she is absolutely fine. Aren’t you Maya?”

Maya snuggled closer to her father “Is mama okay?”

He kissed her head tenderly “as soon as the doctor gives me your discharge papers I will take you to see her. Mum is fine.”

“And the deer?”

“Okay too.”

Ten minutes later a doctor came in the room and explained the checks they had done and all was was clear. Rowan grabbed the papers and lifted Maya back in his arms.

In the A&E, the Galathynius were still with Aelin.

At the open door he walked in and then to the bed “See Maya? Mum is fine.”

Aelin extended her arms and her daughter climbed from parent to parent.

He stood behind, following the scene from his corner until Evalin pulled him closer “Go to her, Rhoe and I will take Maya for a bit. You two need space.”

Rowan stared at Evalin in shock and the woman nodded to him almost in encouragement.

Slowly he moved to the bed and as he got closer he scanned Aelin for any sign of grave injury, but all he found was a plaster on her forehead. She was sitting in bed and as soon as she spotted him, Aelin extended her hand to him.

Rowan sat at her side and accepted her hand “I am sorry,” she whispered.

Rowan was about to protest but she stopped him “no, I need to get this out,” she added quickly “I am sorry. I was mad at you for all the wrong reasons,” she confessed “What I said to you was horrible. I have been so used to be just the two of us. I made all the decisions, I provided for her and when you told me about the classes I felt as if all of a sudden I was not capable anymore to look after her.” Rowan was again ready to talk but Aelin placed a finger on his lips “And I have been so damn wrong to be jealous of you. I had a look at the courses but I could not find anything that I liked. You did and I wished it had been me.” Her hand caressed his face in a gentle touch “Rowan, in a very short time you have proved to be a great dad for her. She loves you so much,” tears started to flow on her cheeks “And I am so bloody stubborn that I put us in danger. And I am sorry,” another caress “I am sorry that I doubted you or made things hard for you. Having you back after all this time, it caught me off guard. I was so scared, Rowan.”

He moved closer, his arms sneaked behind her back and pulled Aelin to his chest “When you left tonight I felt like a failure. I was so eager to be a father that I just went ahead like a bulldozer and did not consult you.” He closed his eyes and his cheek leaned on the top of her head “I want to be worthy of being her dad and of you. I want to be so damn worthy of you both, Aelin.”

They looked at each other and their foreheads touched. Aelin’s hand cupped his cheek and something moved in her chest. Something old. A thread she thought had snapped was now floating in front of her begging to be reconnected to its other half “You are, and Maya and I are so lucky to have you.”

“How is she?”

Rowan chuckled “She already charmed the nurses and managed to get a juice box from them. Docs says she is all okay.”

Aelin shifted and leaned her head on his shoulder while he kept holding her “Can Maya and I come back home?”

“Are you sure?”

She looked up at him and nodded.

Rowan stared in her blue eyes and slowly felt as if all the messy feelings he had been experiencing lately had started to shuffle back in order. Some of the old feelings had started to resurface, but he had to keep them at bay. They had to work first on making sure Maya was okay. They had done enough damage. Their daughter had priority over their feelings.

“We love your house.”

“Okay but,” Aelin tried to protest but this time it was his turn to shush her “Tomorrow you stay at home. The concussion was very light, but you will be sore from the seat belts. Maya is home from school for the holidays and if you need help I am sure your mum will be delighted to look after you both.”

“Yes, chief.”

“I should have never let you go out.”

She kissed his cheek “You tried. I am stubborn, remember?” She then hid her face in his chest “I destroyed your car. I will find a way to pay you back.”

“Nonsense. I am glad you at least took mine. It has a very reinforced front. It’s meant for off track and other extreme road conditions. Nothing a good garage cannot fix and I also have something called insurance.” He thought about what could have happened if she had gone with her car. He kissed her head “Stay with me and that’s your way to pay me back.”

“I think I can do that.”

Aelin looked up and moved closer. So much that they were sharing their breaths. She was about to brush her lips on his when the scream of her name pulled her back.

Evalin and Rhoe entered the room with an excited Maya holding a lollipop.

“Mama!!”

Rowan helped Maya climb on the bed and gave them some space while he went to the grandparents.

Rhoe passed him some papers “Aelin’s discharge papers. I assume you are taking your two girls home?”

He nodded “Good,” added Rhoe, patting his shoulder. Rhoe went back to Aelin and Maya and Rowan remained with Evalin.

“Fight for them Rowan. Do not let an argument ruin everything. They are your family and they love you.” She gave him a hug “Rhoe and I are rooting for the three of you.”

Twenty minutes later he was walking out of the hospital with a still an achey Aelin and Maya in his hand. He was afraid that Maya might refuse to get in the car but the girl allowed him to strap her in. He passed Elf and hoped she was fine until home.

On the passenger seat Aelin was struggling to fasten her seat belt. She was sore and movements were hard. Rowan went to her and fastened the belt “Will you be okay?”

She nodded “You are a really good driver and can deal with these roads better than me.”

He left the car park “Who wants ice cream?”

Both women screamed excited so when he was closer to home he made a stop at his local shop down in the village and bought a few types of ice cream.

Back at home Aelin made to grab her duffel bag but Rowan stopped her. “Wait on the porch while I free the hurricane.”

Aelin sat on the chair outside and stared at her daughter following happily her dad. Taking Maya away even if for just two days would have been a grave mistake and fate had punished her for that. Seeing her daughter happy with her dad was all she needed.

“Let’s go in.”

Rowan pushed Aelin on the bench inside the lobby and she protested when he kneeled to remove her shoes “If you can bend to take them off, be my guest.”

Aelin tried and gritted her teeth but gave up when her body screamed and let Rowan take her boots off.

“Dada, my shoes are off.”

He helped Aelin up “Ok, upstairs, pyjama and ice cream.”

Aelin leaned on him as they climbed to the upper floor and Maya followed. She then disappeared in her room while Rowan accompanied Aelin in hers.

“Do you have a pyjama?”

She shook her head “I have been using your t-shirts, they are cozy.”

Rowan chuckled “Oh so you are the thief.” He went to his room and came back with a big TFD

t-shirt “This should be okay too.”

She tried to remove her clothes but every movement was causing her blinding pain “Can I?”

Aelin blushed. They had seen naked plenty of times but now it was different between them.

Between curses she managed to pull away her hoodie and then the t-shirt and that’s when Rowan gasped. Her chest sported a nasty purple bruise from left to right and a really nasty scratch on her neck that the doctors had covered with a bandage.

“Is your neck okay?”

“Stiff.”

“Okay, we need to keep an eyes for signs of whiplash.”

Maya burst in the room not long after. Elf pyjama on, and soft toys under each arms “I am ready for ice cream!”

Rowan lifted her in bed “Stay here one second while I help you mum get changed.” The girl crawled under the blankets with her friends and waited.

Once ready, Aelin shuffled under the blankets with her daughter and both waited for ice cream.

Rowan came back twenty minutes later all changed too and with a tray with the cups full of ice cream. The really chocolaty ones were for his two girls whereas he had opted for the fruity ones.

“Ae, take these, the doctor prescribed them, should help with pain.”

Obediently Aelin took her meds and then Rowan allowed them to have ice cream in bed.

He sat in the chair he had carried from Maya’s room and while they ate he told them stories of princesses and knights until they both fell asleep.

Rowan tucked both of them in bed and then sent a silent prayer to Mala to always look after them.

taglist

@rowaelinismyotp @swankii-art-teacher @whimsicallyreading @elentiyawhitethorn @aelin-bitch-queen @bruiseonthefaceofhumanity @mis-lil-red @thegreyj @sailorsassley @leiawritesstories @clairec79 @morganofthewildfire @sv0430 @heartless--aromantic @autumnbabylon @rowanaelinn @backtobl4ck @susumaus98 @gracie-rosee @mybloodrunsblue @tanvee1231 @avenrebekah @whoever-you-choose-to-love @theywillnotsingforme @universallytreepost @black-daisy-water @goddess-aelin @whispers-in-the-darkest-heart @lovely-dove-zee @athena127

#rowaelin fanfic #rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #rowaelin fanfiction #aelin x rowan #rowanwhitethorn #throne of glass fanfiction #domestic fluff #rowaelinkids #aelin galathynius

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nagaismybff · 1 year

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Fanfic WIP Snippet: 911 x Motherland: Fort Salem Crossover

Chapter Summary: Chimney is worried that the cursed bracelet has left lingering effects on the 118′s firehouse. He asks Emerson, a veterinarian for the LA Zoo who also happens to be a witch, to sweep the station for cursed objects. She’s not a professional, but she humors him. Anything to get him to stop freaking out.

A/N: Here is a draft chapter from my main WIP fic. Apologies if it sounds choppy or repetitive, I am still practicing my editing skills. I currently don’t have an AO3 account, so I’ll be posting short sections of my fanfics on here for now. Story includes some concepts from Motherland: Fort Salem. For context since this chapter is later in the story, the sugar glider is Emerson’s familiar. Hope you enjoy!

Referenced Episodes: “Jinxed” 4 x 06, “Cursed” 6 x 07

Word Count: ~2,500

Cursed...Again

Firehouse 118, Fall 2022

Emerson walks through the open bay door at the station, looking around. Buck, Hen, Ravi, and a few other firefighters are cleaning and performing maintenance on the fire trucks and ambulance. However Chimney, who’d asked her to come, is nowhere to be seen.

“Oh hey Em, what are you doing here?” Buck asks, confused. He’s wiping down the engine with a rag, a spray bottle in his other hand. While she does hang out with the 118 a lot outside of work, it’s fairly rare for her to show up at the firehouse.

“I got a cryptic text from Chimney. He said to come down here this morning if I was free and didn’t explain why. He just said it’s urgent.” She answers, shrugging her shoulders.

“Hey Chim!” He calls out into the firehouse, his voice echoing in the vehicle bay. Chimney pops his head out from behind the ambulance, doors open while he restocks medical supplies.

“Yeah?” He answers, looking over to Buck. He sees Emerson and his eyes perk up. Chimney waves to her as he walks towards her. The hood of the ambulance is up and Hen is checking the oil. “Hen! Hen, she’s here.”

Hen returns the oil stick to the engine and wipes her hands on a cloth. Ravi turns to face them, but continues to clean and inventory equipment with a curious look on his face.

“Alright, Chim. Why did you ask me to come here?” Emerson asks him. Momo climbs out of her jacket pocket and crawls up to her shoulder. The sugar glider’s tail tickles her neck.

“I tried to talk him out of it, but he insisted. I thought this matter was settled.” Hen looks at Chim crossing her arms, deadpan look on her face.

“I told you, Hen. We need her to check and make sure there’s no lingering effects.” Chim bickers back to his partner. Hen sighs and throws her hands up.

“Whatever. If it gets you to stop acting weird while we’re on shift.” She gives up and returns to her vehicle maintenance.

“Lingering effects from what?” Emerson raises her eyebrow at Chim.

“Ok, so earlier this week we had a series of calls that involved the same woman and a cursed object. It was left in the ambulance at one point, and weird stuff started happening here in the firehouse.” Chim explains.

“Gas leaked from Cap’s truck and we had to evacuate the building.” Ravi chimes in.

“So you called me here to lift a curse?” Emerson asks.

“Chim, there was no curse. The actress was just being stalked by the sketchy artifact dealer. I’m sure the leaking vehicle was just a coincidence. Hen’s right, I thought we settled the issue with the bracelet.” Buck jumps down from the engine and walks over. Hen just shakes her head.

“Look, I just want to be extra sure that’s what it was.” Chim says back to him.

“Chim, if you’re worried about curses, there are other witches who deal with them professionally who can help you. Why did you call me? I’m a zoo vet and I don’t specialize in cursed objects.” Emerson asks Chimney.

“Not even when you served in Afghanistan?” He asks.

“I know the basics, like how to spot them or cast simple curses, but nothing complex.” She crosses her arms.

“It’s just…you were very helpful that one time we were worried we’d cursed ourselves when Ravi used the Q-word. I thought maybe you could help us out.” He seems bummed and looks at his feet.

“Hey, I’ve since learned my lesson.” Ravi chimes in again. Emerson sighs and puts her hands on her hips.

“Alright, I’ll have a look around. But don’t blame me if I miss something.” She says waving her hand. “Where’s the offending object?”

“Oh, here!” Chim pulls out his phone, pulling up a picture. He shows her a photo of a gold snake bracelet with red gems for eyes.

“May I?” She asks for his phone.

“Sure.” Chim hands it to her. She zooms on the picture and moves it around. Shaking her head, she returns his phone.

“I can’t really tell from the picture.” She says. “I’d need to see the bracelet for myself. Do you have it?”

“No, it’s not here anymore.” Chim says, sighing and looking up at the ceiling.

“Hmm, okay…” Emerson crosses her arms and thinks. “Oh! You mentioned the ambulance? Can you show me the places the bracelet has been? If it was cursed, there should be some residual energy.”

“Yeah, back here.” Chim leads her to the back of the ambulance. Other firefighters at the back of the station turn their heads briefly to investigate. She steps into the back, looks around, and purses her lips to create a light buzzing sound. It fills the ambulance, sounding almost like a whistle. Her eyes glow a faint yellow as she scans the vehicle. She goes silent then nods her head.

“No curses here. Looks like it was just an ugly bracelet.” She hops out of the ambulance and straightens her jacket. Chim sighs in relief, giving a little smile.

“However, you do have a few spirits of lost patients clinging to this ambulance. I can give you the number of one of my coven members who can help them find closure.” She adds.

“Our ambulance is haunted?” Chimney’s face goes pale and he holds his breath.

“Don’t worry. They won’t affect your ability to do your job, you just might have a feeling that someone is watching you. They’re mostly just confused. Sarah can help you out, she’s a Medium.” Emerson reassures him.

“Well, what about the rest of the building? Is there anything here we should be worried about?” Chim questions her.

“There is a way for me to sweep the rest of the firehouse all at once, but it won’t be as accurate.” She explains.

“Well let’s do it, anything that will help.” He shifts on his feet.

“Ok, I’ll try my best.” Emerson says as she walks over to the back of the firehouse near the gym, Chim and Buck in tow. She turns to face out toward the front bay doors with a good view of a large portion of the vehicle bay. She sings an arpeggio, letting the notes resonate in the room.

“You have great acoustics here.” She says, spinning around looking up at the ceiling. She sings a few lines from Wicked Game, even louder this time.

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you

It's strange what desire will make foolish people do

Her voice rings through the whole building, echoing back to her. It has an enchanting quality to it, just a slight edge that separates it from other people’s voices. Bobby and Eddie come to the railing to investigate. Her singing was loud enough to tear them away from their work upstairs.

“Em? What are you doing here?” Eddie calls down to her, very confused yet intrigued.

“Yeah guys, what’s going on?” Bobby asks, checking to see what shenanigans were going on in his firehouse.

“Chimney. Asked me to check the place for curses.” Emerson points at Chim with her thumb over her shoulder. Momo jumps onto her head, his leg falling in front of her eye and making her squint. Bobby and Eddie share an exasperated look and roll their eyes.

“Chimney, the bracelet wasn’t cursed.” Bobby says, his hand on his pained face.

“Oh we cleared that up, Em just confirmed that’s not a problem. But we’re checking the rest of the station.” Chim answers. Bobby sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Alright, as long as it doesn’t interfere with our jobs, do what you need to feel better.” Bobby says.

“Yes! Thanks, Cap!” Chim jumps.

“This won’t take long, I promise.” Emerson shouts up to Bobby. He waves to her and goes back to the kitchen, leaving Eddie at the railing.

“Ok, where was I…ah. This might do.” She looks around until she remembers the next step. She heads for the fire pole and gives it a few knocks with her knuckle.

“What are you doing?” Buck asks as he and Chim walk over to meet her.

“Trying to find an object of importance to the firehouse that has good resonance.” She knocks the pole again, leaning her ear close. She hums a few times until she matches the pitch of the metal pole. “Got it.”

Reaching into her sling bag, Emerson pulls out a fabric case. She unzips it to reveal a tuning fork kit. Grabbing one of the forks, she double checks that the pitches match. Returning to her previous position by the gym, she takes a few deep breaths.

The tuning fork is hit against the floor, sending vibrations into the air. Emerson copies the pitch and closes her eyes. Her voice is quiet at first, difficult to separate from the ringing metal. Gradually the sound grows and fills the room, even shaking through everyone’s bodies. The tuning fork’s ringing fades and soon it’s just her voice.

She stops, listening to the echoes for anything unusual. Her voice resonates through the building for a few seconds after she goes quiet, eventually fading into nothing. The firefighters hold still, not daring to take a breath. Buck, Chim, and Eddie exchange looks, waiting for an answer. Hen has finished her maintenance and walks over to watch as well. When the sounds finally dissipate, Emerson opens her eyes and stares at the floor.

“Kitchen.” A single word leaves her mouth and she points upstairs.

“Wait, you actually found something?” Hen says, furrowing her brows. Eddie turns to look behind him as Buck and Chim grow nervous.

“Can’t tell what is from here, but there’s definitely an enchanted object upstairs.” Emerson answers her. She puts her tuning forks away as she runs up the stairs, the others following close behind her.

“Hey Cap, she found something.” Eddie shouts to Bobby. He joins the group as Emerson makes it to the top of the stairs and slows down. Bobby is in the kitchen drying dishes. He gives a concerned look when he sees everyone gathering near the stairs.

“Everything alright?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Bobby, I need you to put that pan down on the counter, slowly.” Emerson instructs him. “No sudden movements, just set it down and back out of the kitchen.”

Bobby does as she said, even leaving the dish towel behind. He joins the others behind her. Everyone is silent and doesn’t dare move.

She slowly moves to the kitchen and sings the same pitches she used in the ambulance. She scans the appliances, the counters, and the cabinets. Grabbing the dish towel Bobby had just been using and an oven mitt, she opens a cabinet on the island next to the stove.

“Ah ha! Gotcha!” She reaches in and pulls out a cast iron skillet. Her body is still quite tense, holding the pan at arms length. “This is your culprit.”

“Em, is it dangerous? Do we need to evacuate?” Bobby asks cautiously.

“Don’t know yet, give me a second.” She spins it in a circle between her hands and sings the buzzing sound again.

“Oh.” She finally says. Her body relaxes and she begins to belt out laughing. Everyone looks at her confused, unsure what’s happening.

“You…you guys are safe. This is someone’s idea of a joke.” She continues to laugh and sets the skillet on the counter.

“So we’re not gonna drop dead?” Chim asks.

“No, you can come back into the kitchen. No cause for alarm. Sorry about that.” She answers. The firefighters seem to take a collective sigh of relief. They gather around the island and probe her with questions.

“So…. What's up with the pan? Is it not cursed after all?” Hen asks.

“Oh it’s cursed alright. It’s just more of an inconvenience than deadly.” Emerson responds. A few of them still instinctively take a step back. Eddie reaches over and grabs the skillet.

“So, what’s wrong with it?” He inspects it himself.

“Someone hexed that pan to burn any food someone tries to cook in it. Doesn’t matter who the cook is or the temperature of the stove.” She explains. Bobby’s eyes go wide.

“Damnit, I knew something was off about that pan.” Bobby grits his teeth.

“Yeah… yeah! I’ve always hated it too. Guess that’s why we ended up just keeping it in the cabinet.” Buck chimes in.

“So did someone purposely give us hexed cookware?” Chim asks, looking around at everyone.

“Depends…Bobby, do you know where this came from?” Emerson asks him.

“Consignment store. Why?” He answers.

“Ah, ok. It’s very likely the pan was already cursed when you bought it and wasn’t directed specifically at you guys.” She speculates. “The previous owner may have given it up for the same reason you don’t use it. It looks like a good pan, but it’s deceiving.”

“Huh. How about that.” Bobby grabs the pan from Eddie.

“There are also some witches who like to play pranks by cursing random objects with relatively harmless but inconvenient effects and setting them loose into the world. Mainly just to enjoy the chaos.” She adds.

“So what do we do about it?” Hen asks. “Can you remove the curse?”

“Nope.” She puts her hands up and gives a not it face. “Turns out petty curses like these are complex and difficult to work with. I’ll leave the decision to you. You can keep it as it is, get rid of it, have a professional remove the curse…either way I can’t help you. Sorry.”

“Well regardless, we appreciate you checking the place out. Hopefully, now people will be less squirrelly on shift.” Bobby thanks her before looking directly at Chimney.

“Hey, just followed a hunch.” Chim gets defensive. “Turns out I was right… sort of.”

“You’re welcome. And if you’re worried about someone placing a dangerous curse on the firehouse, I do however have a method you can use to fortify the place. No magic required.” Emerson says.

“What really? What is it?” Buck chimes in.

“Plants. Just place a whole bunch of plants in here and if there’s some bad energy being sent your way, they will absorb the brunt of it.” She explains. “There’s a reason my house looks like a jungle.”

“Any particular kind of plants or…” Hen asks.

“Anything will do. Just keep them watered and pruned.” Emerson says as she starts to head for the stairs.

“How will we know it’s working?” Bobby asks. She pauses to look back at him.

“If all of the plants suddenly drop dead at the same time with no natural cause. That is if Eddie hasn’t killed them first.” She jokes. They snort and laugh at her comment, meanwhile Eddie flushes red and sips his coffee.

“Thanks again, Em.” Chimney waves. Emerson waves back and heads out of the firehouse. She stops to look back at the station before getting in her car, nodding to herself.

“Yep, still got it.”

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the-firebird69 · 11 months

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Very good day so far there's a lot of idiots around and I found out it's Mac hiding it as We know and I keep putting it out and have been for a while. But here it is they're massively annoying so we're taking them down. Evacuating the world it's a huge amount of people it's a real heavy burden for people who are not responsible adults and to burden but there are things happening in Charlotte county.

-several things and important things they are going through their people rapidly they are reassessing and rapidly going through them they have eliminated more jobs than they had eliminated yesterday and they're holding to those numbers. And we're going to go through some of them

-Charlotte county sheriff they're shooting for 200 and they met it. Leave it or not believe it or not and they are reaching for a new goal of 100 so they're firing 100 today and John remillard is starting to see it finally

-out of the 50 punta Gorda police are firing 10 today the number will be 40 and it's more or less a match for the sheriff

-and like 1,000 left in the city of punta Gorda and 1,000 left in Port Charlotte Florida for City workers. They're bringing them both to 500 today and they did well yesterday they said

-they also plan to fire Charlotte county workers it was $2,800 they dropped it to 2000 and they tried holding it and they couldn't well last week they start holding it this week they held it and they dropped it to 1500 yesterday and actually held it it's going down to 1,000 and yeah they're dropping $500. I make a note that the planning department and building department have not been touched yet in Charlotte county or the cities but they are firing fire engine drivers and ambulance and EMTs and ancillary to those positions

-they're going through a number of agencies the Florida law enforcement agency was cut down to 2000 yesterday today they're cutting it down to $1,000 and it's Friday so have all weekend too make sure that they clean it up there's a couple more that are big and important of course

-there's something called the soup county supervisors of elections. They decide today to fire them all because they keep saying that other people were elected and they won't shut their stupid mouths. And there won't be any. So my husband is showing me an image of Mac and he escaping just of his Indians with the makeup and yellow and red skin that is they look like Indians the others are behind him getting caught I mean can and will and Bill they just said we'll meet you with the canoes hahaha I'm going to the mouth of the harbor right through the skeletons he says

-and a couple more county workers to mention select men and that's in Port Charlotte they let 10 more to go out of the remaining 30 he thinks and it's true and they're really pissed but fired

-the councilman in punta Gorda or down to 20 now they're firing 10 you're saying you can't but they are

-the State Assembly would have Senate in Congress of the State of Florida are being reduced that just their workers and the state says we don't have money for it and I'll punch with other things and they lay them off if they show up to work they get arrested

-we also firing and laying off several more mayors. There are in Florida and they laid off only 10. Today they are firing around 50 mayors of cities and towns and mostly because the cities and towns that they're running don't have any more lock in them at all and it makes a lot of sense people say.

-along with the Mayors and selecting and councilman there's another group that was not being watched or fired or anything and I did touch on it yesterday it's people who work for the military subcontractors and for the military and ancillary roles since they're not in the military mostly they're also firing with whoever is left there daily and they come by Stephen it says what do you want I'm the real military and you're not you know how can you prove I said I can't I'd have to kill you so they say he's leaving a space and this is what's wrong with you buddy so they are firing them it is a pretty good size group in Florida but not huge and like I said it was only 1% in the factories that was elsewhere but really it's a small number of them and they are very cantankerous people okay these are some ugly people there mean and nasty and have an attitude problems wrong they're running around saying everyone's wrong and thinking that they don't have threaten properly for weapons and stuff and they suck at it there's no reason for them to have weapons except the Max and they are not accommodating my husband in any way and all of them are not doing it. The numbers are pretty big it's half again of what's remaining and that is a decent number if you knew how many and he remembers layoffs up north were pretty big in town it's like a million people from One factory you're a very huge 200,000 and they're doing that now to these people and some of these people are doing that to them and they want to get back at them they don't remember it exactly but they will and half again is a lot but by comparison to the population of moloch here it's very small but they're agitators and they get a lot of people creamed

-other groups are firing these idiots from other civil service ancillary police and something like that it's an illegal organization but they have it and they're down to I think 100,000 yesterday and they had him turn all their stuff in and basically arrested 90% of them and they're in prison and they're dying and they'll be dead and gone and screaming and yelling them rights and all the stuff they really don't they were just murdering people in their own too they're going to get rid of 50,000 more today they're going to fire them

-along with all of this there's a general layoff of government workers in Florida and it's pretty low already it's a 5% of what it used to be no it's about 12% and they're going to lay off they say about three more percent of all the government workers and those are just standard workers

-there's a couple more of those Private industry which were at about 25% of what they used to be last year they're laying off probably 5% today for real and companies are listed they want them out of. And we have several companies that we want them out of.

-and there's one more group actually there's a whole bunch of them and see big group of NSA FBI etc and it kind of breaks down like this yesterday they fired a ton and held it today they're firing a ton more and if you came by and whispered their agency and left and got killed. Is CIA is down to 500 they're dropped at 250, the FBI is down to 500 to drop it into 250, the NSA is down to 3,000 in the state of Florida they're going to drop it to 2000 and the rest of them are in the state of Florida these agencies, the DEA sounds like 200 and now it's going to be 100 and this is terrible these numbers are very low anyways they have anyone in there they get a lot of calls and lots of stupid calls.

This is what's happening today pretty soon I would have this announcement that I'll be fired and they are concentrating on social security but there's a group taking over. Now we were saying it was Stan and we're saying it's the warlock when it's ridiculous they're fighting each other to fruition and it is foreigners and us and Max are there. They're moving out and getting here real quick tons of them.

Hera

Zues

We approved this message to go out it's very well done very well written and timely it came out pretty quick and it's nice

Olympus

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fruitydiaz-archived · 3 years

Text

safe (with you)

s5 speculation based on the new bts because idk how to be normal about this

3,049 words

AO3 link

By the time they pull into Eddie’s driveway Buck’s hands still haven’t stopped shaking.

He vividly remembers that day he spent driving around Los Angeles with Abby, searching for her mom, the day they saved the little girl in the pool. He remembers the way he lined his hand up with hers and told her that the first couple of weeks on the job he couldn’t keep his hands from shaking with the adrenaline. But Abby was good at compartmentalizing; her hands never shook.

Buck still hasn’t learned how to do that with the people he cares about. He’s beginning to think he never will.

Eddie had been held hostage for under two hours and made it out unscathed, and yet Buck couldn’t get his fucking hands to stop shaking. He felt like a wire with the coating stripped off, ripped down the middle, frayed open, ready to spark and catch fire at any moment. But he’d been feeling like that a lot lately if he was being honest. Not that anyone asked.

And he didn’t expect anyone to because everyone else had their own problems and it was his job at the moment to just pull his shoulders back and keep it together. That was all he was supposed to do. He could do that.

“Uh, let me get your bag,” Buck mumbles as Eddie opens his side door to climb out. He switches the engine off and jumps out before he can see the glare Eddie shoots in his direction.

He still feels it anyway.

“I can get my own bag,” Eddie says, his tone flat. He feels too tired to argue but there’s an energy vibrating under his skin that he hasn’t been able to shake since they pulled up to the scene and he found himself staring down the barrel of someone else’s gun. It’s making him irritable and jumpy and all he wants to do is climb into bed and forget.

Buck doesn’t even grace him with a response, pulling both of their bags out of the back seat and slinging them over his shoulders, glancing once at Eddie before marching towards the front door.

“Nothing even happened to me, Buck,” Eddie calls after him, following on his heels. “I’m fine.”

Buck still doesn’t say anything as he pulls out his ring of keys and unlocks the front door. He slips off his shoes in the entryway and drops both of their bags by the couch. Eddie follows him into the kitchen.

“Buck - Buck, come on man you don’t have to take care of me I’m-“

“Stop telling me that you’re fine,” Buck growls suddenly, spinning around to face Eddie. “I am sick and tired of hearing it. You got shot, Eddie, okay? Five months ago you got shot and you started having panic attacks and you hid it from me.”

Eddie blinks at Buck for a second, shocked, before his brain kicks back on. Being around Buck is one of the easiest things for Eddie to do, but the moment Buck starts to care too much, when he starts to push - either with wide eyes full of nothing but love and care that make him want to crawl into himself and never come back out - or like this, with venom and anger that coat the underlying fear and worry, it becomes hard.

He defaults to anger. He wishes it wasn’t so easy but it’s the one thing he’s been prepared to do his whole life; fight.

“I wasn’t hiding it from you. I was managing it on my own.”

“You’re my partner.”

“Yeah, and it wasn’t about work,” Eddie stresses, feeling antsy. He turns away from Buck and takes a couple of steps around the corner. He needs to put some space between them. “It was personal, okay? And I dealt with it.”

“Right,” Buck said, voice dripping with the kind of bitterness that Eddie can feel creeping onto his own tongue. “Because you don’t panic anymore, right?”

Eddie’s eyes flick down. The familiar sensation of bile laced with the accusation of liar rises in his throat and he struggles to swallow it down. He still panics; he just didn’t think anyone noticed.

“I can handle it on my own,” Eddie says quietly.

“When are you going to realize that you don’t have to?” Buck pleads, leaning against the counter opposite Eddie. “When are you going to let me help you?”

“I don’t need help,” Eddie says, retreating back and looking anywhere but at Buck. God, he was just trapped at gunpoint for nearly two hours can he catch a fucking break? He feels like he can’t breathe.

“Eddie.”

“I’m fine.”

“Eddie, you got shot.” Buck is begging him to talk about it, screaming practically. And he’s been screaming for weeks, months, doing all but dropping to his knees in front of Eddie and begging him to open up and talk to him about it and Eddie gets it but ultimately. Ultimately.

Eddie wishes Buck would shut up.

You got shot, remember?

He wishes he could make him shut up. He wishes he could make Buck leave his apartment and get back into his jeep and drive to his own place and never fucking talk about any of this again. Because of course he remembers getting shot. He remembers all of it.

He remembers standing out in the middle of the street thinking about hopping into the ambulance with Charlie right before a bullet ripped through his one good shoulder. That’s four times now. He remembers hitting the hard cement and feeling the blood pool under his body, remembers the familiar sickly feeling that comes with the realization that you’re losing too much blood, before you start to lose your grip on the world around you. He remembers staring across the pavement at Buck and thinking it would be okay, because Buck was okay.

He remembers waking up in the hospital, drugged up and confused and searching for blue eyes and a blood-splattered face. He remembers waking up to Ana smiling down at him with watery eyes and he remembers the way she barely concealed her disappointment when he immediately asked for Buck - but he was passed caring at that point. He remembers the day he had to wait, slipping in and out of consciousness, Ana making occasional small talk, until he was finally cleared for more visitors, and Buck came rushing into the room like a vision of something holy, his face clean, his smile bright.

He remembers the moment Buck said he wished he had gotten shot instead and when Eddie slipped back into another drug-induced sleep the only words on his mind were no, not you. Never you.

He remembers sitting on the edge of the hospital bed with Buck, the distance between them too much and not enough at the same time. He remembers struggling to find the right words, fumbling to find his footing, feeling stripped bare as he told Buck that he loved him. But the words came out you act like you’re expendable, but you’re wrong instead.

He remembers never feeling so cracked open and vulnerable in his entire life and it was terrifying. So he did what he does best and he retreated into the shadows and licked his wounds in private and put himself back together as best he could so that the next time someone saw him they didn’t look at him as if he were about to break.

And maybe it was a shit job and he still felt like he was barely held together by string most days but he was doing fine. He was back at work and Christopher was still happy even without Ana around and he was making it work.

So he didn’t give a damn if Buck thought he wasn’t doing enough. He didn’t want to relive the shooting again, he had moved on. He was fine.

He was fine.

Or at least, he was fine up until 7 hours ago when they got a call to an office building that turned into a goddamn hostage situation and Eddie spent the better part of an hour with a gun to his head.

He was fine.

“Eddie, Eddie,” Buck’s voice is loud and sudden in his ear and Eddie startles, staring up at him. He blinks a couple of times before he realizes that he’s on the floor and that Buck’s kneeling over him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Buck’s saying over and over again. “I shouldn’t have pushed you, fuck, I’m sorry.”

Fuck. Another panic attack.

Maybe he can’t pretend that he’s fine anymore.

“Buck,” Eddie says. Buck’s eyes fly to his and Eddie feels the bile rise again when he realizes Buck is crying.

This isn’t the first time tonight that Buck has cried. Over him.

“I’m so sorry, Eds,” Buck says again, his voice worn, and Eddie remembers him screaming. For him. “I just almost lost you again and I’m so fucking sick of it. I can’t keep doing this.”

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Buck stares at him for a second, eyes wild, before he squeezes them shut and stretches his legs out in front of him, settling down on the floor across from Eddie.

It’s dark in Eddie’s apartment, the only light spilling in from the entryway, cloaking the two of them in warm dim light.

Eddie always found it easier being honest in the dark.

“I’m scared too,” He admits quietly. Buck’s eyes look too blue in the dark.

“I know. I’m sorry I’ve been so pushy. I just…I never wanted to make what happened about me…but I can see you struggling and it’s like - the only thing I know how to do is push. I can see it eating away at you.”

“I want to forget it ever happened,” Eddie says quickly, honestly.

Buck licks his lips. Nervous. “I get that. But…ignoring it doesn’t mean it never happened, you know?”

“It just…feels easier.”

“It’s killing you, Eddie.”

I was never meant to live this long anyway, is on the tip of Eddie’s tongue - but that’s too dark. Too much. Too honest. He shoves it back down.

One day something’s going to take him. Maybe it’ll be a bullet, maybe it won’t. Maybe it’ll be the crushing guilt he’s carried ever since he was a kid, too young to learn what that kind of guilt felt like.

“At least Chris will be taken care of if it does,” He says before he can stop himself, before he can remind himself that that’s something he shouldn’t say out loud. The pained look on Buck’s face feels like a slap in the face.

“What about you?” Buck grinds out, voice still hoarse. “Who the fuck is gonna take care of you - now?”

Eddie shrugs, “I can take care of myself.”

“Bullshit,” Buck snaps. “Full offense but I’ve seen the way you care for yourself.”

“It’s what I do, Buck,” Eddie says, leaning his head back against the cabinets and squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s - I can handle myself. I can’t…do this to anyone else. It was too much for Shannon - hell, even as a kid I was too much for my parents. I can’t.”

“Let me take care of you,” Buck says quickly and earnestly and the words shoot straight through Eddie’s heart. He couldn’t.

“No,” Eddie starts, sitting up straighter.

“Eddie, I can’t lose you,” Buck says with enough conviction to shut Eddie up for a second.

Because some part of Eddie has always been aware of the lengths to which Buck would crawl through fire and rain for him - because that’s who Buck is. Buck is the guy who puts everyone else before him, who will always put his life on the line first. Not because he wants to be the hero - but because he never thinks his own life is important enough to stop and consider the consequences.

Or at least, that’s what Eddie thought. But Eddie’s seen him hesitate more lately. He’s seen him pull back, actually listen to Bobby. And Eddie thought it was the will that was holding him back. And that was almost enough to soothe the constant ache in his chest.

But then Eddie got taken hostage. And it was like they were on that street again. And Eddie watched the fear strike Buck like a bolt of lightning, lighting him up from head to toe, nervous electricity in his veins. He saw the raw determination in his eyes, the devotion and instinct at war with responsibility and promise.

For a second, among the buzz at the base of his skull and the shrill ambiance of police cars, swat, and the ambulance, it hit Eddie. It wasn’t Buck being Buck. It was Eddie. It was Eddie that turned off every switch in Buck’s brain but his inherent instincts. It was Eddie in danger that broke him.

Eddie had never seen it before. And he’s been trying his damned best to shove it in the box labeled DO NOT TOUCH along with all of the other shit he’s been ignoring for the last five months.

It seems like it’s all coming out tonight.

Buck continues, “I don’t. I don’t want to do this without you. I can’t. Five months ago you sat with me in the hospital and - everyone always tells me that I’m reckless, you know? Or that I’m dumb or that I don’t think or that I want to be some hero. But you…you didn’t say any of that. And - and you made me feel like I was important. Like my life…was important. Is important. And I needed that, Eddie. So bad.

“Let me do the same thing for you,” Buck’s on the edge of begging again. “What do I have to do for you to realize that you’re important? That I need you? Because I do. God, Eddie, I need you…”

Eddie stares at him, wide-eyed and frozen in place. He’s never been loved like this before, has he?

Because that’s what this is. There’s no denying it anymore. That’s what Buck and Eddie do. They love each other. With some sort of deep-running unbreakable devotion that wraps around them constantly and pulls them closer and closer together.

That’s what Eddie’s been fighting all these months. The closeness.

Because it was easy before - to keep getting closer to Buck because it was safe, it meant they cared about each other, it meant that Buck would do his best to get Eddie home to his son and if all else failed Chris would have someone who loved him, who would look after him. That was good. That was safe.

But when the shooting happened and I have your back turned into I can’t live without you and Eddie realized that what he thought was a contingency plan that he had been slowly and methodically setting up was actually a living breathing family that they’d built - and all of a sudden the only way he ever wanted to live his life was with Buck and Christopher safely by his side - it wasn’t safe anymore. It was dangerous.

Eddie had been fighting so hard to keep Buck at arm's length so he could protect this system that he had come to rely on. Because now when he looked at Buck all he could see was the love and devotion reflecting back at Eddie. And that was terrifying.

Because Eddie had opened himself up to being loved before. And that ended in years of separation, divorce, and ultimately Shannon’s death. Maybe Eddie didn’t believe in signs - or maybe he just wanted to keep pretending the signs weren’t there. Because he was fairly certain that if the universe did send signs then Shannon’s death was the ultimate sign of them all, a symbol of what Eddie did to people.

He didn’t want to let Buck love him because he didn’t want to risk losing Buck.

But he is risking losing Buck the more he pushes him away…he’s risking breaking Buck. And ultimately he’s risking breaking himself. Because he can’t do this without Buck either.

“I need you too,” Eddie says, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry. I’m just - I’m scared, Buck. I’m so scared.”

He’s crying. It’s like a dam broke loose with the quiet admittance and now it’s all coming out. He’s scared. He’s frightened. He’s terrified. He’s in love.

Buck’s crowding into his space, shoving himself up onto his knees between Eddie’s legs and crushing their bodies together, his long arms wrapping around Eddie and pulling him into his chest, tucking his head under Buck’s chin until he feels safe, protected, in Buck’s arms.

“I’ve got you,” Buck whispers into Eddie’s hair. Just a couple of hours ago they were in this same position, on the grass outside the office building, just after Eddie was released and SWAT rolled in. Eddie thinks that the safest place on earth might be right here in Buck’s arms.

“I can’t lose you either,” Eddie croaks, hands clawing at Buck’s back. “I can’t.”

“You won’t,” Buck says with the stubborn confidence that’s inherent to Buck. And Eddie believes him, he does. “Whatever you need, I’ve got you, okay?”

“I need you.”

“You’ve got me. You always have, Eddie,” Buck whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of Eddie’s head.

I love you is what he wants to say. He wants to say it every day; when Buck walks into the locker room and greets Eddie with a private smile like it’s not 6 am and he’d rather be anywhere else, when he bumps Eddie’s shoulder as they walk to the truck, when he pulls his helmet off after a tough call and holds eye contact with Eddie just long enough to communicate are you good?

Maybe he can’t say it just yet.

Maybe this isn’t the right time or place.

But he thinks Buck knows. And he thinks - no he knows, Buck feels the same.

Maybe one day they’ll get there.

But tonight it’s enough to just hold each other, to feel the solid, warm reminder that they’re alive.

It’s enough, for now, to just be together.

#all i do now is write speculation #911 spoilers #my fic #if this is all over the place it's bc i was all over the place while trying to write it all day yesterday #if it's riddled with errors no it's not <3 #my other wip that i was almost done with before this consumed me: am i a joke to you?#google doc titled: oh boy

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fighterkimburgess · 3 years

Note

Can I get a 43 and 48 from the angst prompt list? I’m not sure if you write kelly x reader but I’d love that! If not then ruzek x reader :)

Angst Prompt 43: “Why do we have to keep hiding? I’m tired of being kept a secret.” Angst Promopt 48: “Wake up! Please don’t do this to me.”

Warnings: Canon typical injury, Kelly!Whump, alcohol. This is my first Kelly x reader, I hope it works!

Want to join my taglist?

“I’ve got to go.” The words woke you up from your comfortable sleep, and you turned around to see Kelly getting dressed on his side of the bed. Checking your watch, it was 4.30.

“Kelly, come back to bed. You’ve got your work bag in your car, you can drive in from here.” You reached over for him but he stood, shucking on his jeans.

“I’ve some stuff to get from the loft. Want me to make coffee?”

“Yeah.”

You wrapped a hoodie around you, walking out to your small kitchen. Kelly was already fixing your small coffeemaker. The tension was thick in the air, and you decided to just bite the bullet.

“Kelly...why do we have to keep hiding this? I’m tired of being kept a secret. I know at the start we said this was just sex, but you stay the night, we make out, it’s not that anymore. God Cruz is running bets on us. So why can’t we admit it?” His shoulders stiffened underneath the worn leather, and you readied yourself for the argument.

“We’re not dating. I thought this was still just sex. That’s all I’m here for. Look, I’m gonna go. See you on shift.”

You watched as Kelly as good as ran out of the one bedroom apartment, and felt your heart break in two. Once you were sure he wasn’t in hearing distance, you let out a sob.

With your shift rapidly approaching you gave yourself an hour to cry before you got ready. The coffee Kelly had made was unceremoniously thrown down the drain, and you left without eating anything. Your stomach was in too many knots to eat anyway.

Your red eyes were covered in colour correcting concealer, and you arrived into the house with your head up high, waving at your friends. Keeping the facade going was easy until Sylvie pulled you into the rig, shutting the doors behind her.

“What happened? You’re not ok.” You looked at the woman who was your best friend, work partner and PIC and wanted to laugh. Plus she was engaged to Kelly’s best friend, you couldn’t tell her the truth.

“I’d been seeing someone. We said it was casual but then he was staying over most nights, so I asked him should we make it public. He told me he didn’t feel the same way and left. It all happened this morning so I’m not ok right now.”

Sylvie wrapped you in a hug, holding you close to her chest. “You deserve better, you know? After work I’ll come back with you, we can get takeout and watch break up movies and drown our sorrows in ice cream.”

You smiled at that, banishing the tears from your eyes. “Thanks, Sylvie.” You opened the doors and stepped out in search of breakfast. Instead though, you nearly ran into Kelly’s chest.

“I was looking for you, can we talk?” He asked, his voice soft.

Ambulance 61, person in distress, 3365 South Island

“Sorry Lieutenant, duty calls.” You ran to the passenger side, not trusting yourself to drive first thing. Sylvie wasn’t far behind you, and in thirty seconds you were pulling out of the fire house and to your first call of the day.

You had back to back calls, and by the time you and Sylvie made it back to the house you were starving. Truck and Engine were out on their own calls, so you went inside to try rustle up something edible until somebody made lunch.

“I left plates for you in the fridge,” Kelly said, walking into the common room and you and Sylvie surveyed the available food.

“Thanks, K-Severide,” you replied, cutting yourself off from saying his first name. He’d made it perfectly clear what you were.

After food you could restock the ambo and relax for a little while, being polite and friendly to everyone, but still trying to stay on your own. Kelly had come up to you twice, but each time you stuck with your grey rock routine, making things easier for you.

When your shift ended you were one of the first out of the house, waving goodbye quickly as you speed walked away. Kelly lifted up his arm to call you as you got into your car, but you were able to ignore him without looking like you were. Once you arrived home you locked the door behind you, giving yourself 24 hours to be heartbroken.

True to her word, Sylvie arrived around two with Stella in tow. They took one look at you and wrapped you in hugs, settling in on the couch with the patented list of feel good movies you’d created over the years. You were starting Made of Honor when you were able to speak.

“I really thought I loved him. We started as friends, and there was a spark, so we were friends with benefits. But we slept over, and I think he’s spent more nights here in the last two months than his apartment. The only nights we were apart was work. But he just kept calling it friends with benefits. I just miss him.” You dissolved back into tears, curling up with your friends. Stella patted your head as Sylvie rubbed your shoulders. You felt like such a fool. How could you have convinced Kelly Severide to settle down?

They convinced you to eat something, so pizza was ordered and you waited for it to arrive. When the buzzer went off you didn’t hesitate to hit the entry button, and Sylvie opened the door when the delivery guy got there.

“It’s not a good time, Kelly. We’re having girls night. She needs her girls. See her on shift.” You kept yourself still, not wanting him to see the mess he’d put you in.

“Sylvie I need to see her. Right now. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t important.” You could hear the worry in his voice and it nearly broke you, clutching tighter to Stella. You felt her shake her head no, but hadn’t heard the question.

“No chance, Kelly. Go home. I’ll let her know you were here.” She shut the door on him, before coming back to the couch, your tears back in full force.

“It was Kelly, wasn’t it?” Stella’s voice was low, and you nodded, sitting up.

“What kind of idiot am I? I thought we might actually have something. I’m a fool.”

“You’re not a fool. You were in love. And judging from his face he’s realised what he’s lost, but that’s his fault.” The buzzer went again, and Sylvie lifted it this time.

“Yes?”

“Pizza?”

It arrived up, the cheese and grease what was needed. By the time Stella and Sylvie left you were smiling, hugging them goodbye.

The time before your shift was spent in a cleaning frenzy. You didn’t want anything in your apartment to remind you of what you’d lost, so you cleaned it all, flipping your mattress and changing bedding to completely forget.

By the time you arrived in 51 you felt like a new person. You smiled as you walked in, and it felt like a real smile. Even Sylvie noticed as she and Matt walked in, giving you brief hugs hello. You’d pulled your hair back and were ready to take on the day, but when you closed your locker door Kelly was standing there.

“We need to talk,” his voice was soft, and when you looked at him he seemed like he hadn’t slept.

“You said everything you needed to, Severide. We’re coworkers. That’s it. And considering paramedics and Squad don’t tend to interact, we don’t need to unless we’re on a call.” You turned and walked into the briefing room, sitting beside Sylvie at your usual seat. You stared at the board, ignoring everyone who came in.

“Severide looks like hell,” Sylvie murmured, and you looked at her.

“No idea why,” you replied as Boden walked in to update everyone on the latest information. Before it ended the bells went, and you and Sylvie went to leave.

“I mean what I said, he looks like hell. Have you talked to him?” You kept your eyes on the road as you drove to the call location, but Sylvie was excellent at waiting out a silence.

“He asked me this morning, but nothing since. He has my number, he hasn’t called or texted me since that night. If he wanted to talk he could. But I can’t wait for him, I need to at least pretend to move on. For my sanity.”

“Ok. But I’m here if you need moral support?” You smiled at her as you arrived at the call, but your face immediately paled at the sight in front of you.

The two of you had done all you could, but the staff at Med called TOD on your patient shortly after you arrived. He was a fifteen year old kid, out walking a dog when he got caught in a drive by shooting. You were both covered in blood on arrival back to 51, and Sylvie took you out of service so you could shower and change before another call. By the time you were cleaned up you felt better, but your heart was heavy as you came into the common room and got breakfast.

“You gals ok?” Capp called over, and you smiled at him.

“Tough call. Seeing you all helps though!” You replied, taking a bite of your bacon. There was a laugh, and you all settled into your groups to eat. Before long things turned and the bells went.

Squad 3, Ambulance 61, car accident, 17th and Ashland

You and Sylvie nodded at each other, jogging to the rig. Squad were also on their way out, and you were in convoy on the short drive. It was just one car, but the driver had hit a tree and was wrapped around. It didn’t look like a fire risk, but you stood back as Squad worked to get him out.

Just as Kelly had a saw to the side of the car, you heard the squeal of brakes. You turned and watched as everyone ran out of the way, but Kelly tripped, his torso hitting the still spinning blade as he ran. On autopilot you ran to him, putting pressure on the long gash.

“Stay awake, Kelly. Stay up.” You told him, hearing Sylvie over the radio that we needed two more ambulances and some reinforcements to the location. Kelly grabbed your shoulder, but before he could say anything his eyes rolled.

“Wake up! Don’t do this to me!” You yelled, but he didn’t stir. Squad helped get him onto the gurney and Sylvie held him in the back as you drove to Med, sirens blaring and lights flashing as you made your way through Chicago.

Once you arrived Kelly was handed over, and you stood in shock, staring at the trauma room he’d been brought to. You didn’t even know you were crying until Sylvie wrapped her arm around you, pulling you into a hug.

“It’s Kelly. He’ll be ok. We won’t lose him.” You stayed still until she brought you to the waiting room. The rest of the house arrived soon after, and you took over a sizeable area of the room. You and Sylvie were surrounded by the Squad guys, the five of you just sitting in silence. Capp grabbed your hand, the only movement any of you made while you waited. There’d been so much blood at the scene, all you could think of was Kelly’s blood pouring out and for all of your training you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop him from being hurt.

“He’s gonna pull through. It’s Kelly. Plus he needs to talk to you.” You turned to look at Capp, unsure you’d heard him. “He told me he screwed up with someone important to him, and I’m guessing how the two of you acted it was with you?”

You nodded, a lump in your throat. “Yeah, before last shift. We had a fight, and I was upset so didn’t want to talk to him. God if that’s our last words...” You covered your lips with your fingers. If the last thing you’d told Kelly was you didn’t need to interact again you wouldn’t be able to cope. He was so much more than just that.

“He knows. He knows.” As Capp spoke, Marcel walked towards your group, his face grave.

“Lieutenant Severide needed surgery to repair the lacerations, they were too deep for standard closure. One of them acted more like a stab wound, and nicked his intercostal muscles. However, we were able to close it fully. He’s not out of the woods yet, he lost a lot of blood. However we’re hopeful. Captain Casey, you’re his medical POA, you can come up and see him. Everyone else you’ll need to come back later or tomorrow.” Matt stood to follow, and while he left you all signed up for visitor shifts. You took the 8.30am one for tomorrow, needing to do something after shift.

The rest of the shift was busy for the ambulance crew, but every minute felt like an hour. You got two hours in the bunks, but it was restless, every time you closed your eyes seeing Kelly’s blood on the streets.

Sylvie walked out with you, deciding to get a ride with you to Med so she and Matt could go home.

“You gonna be ok? I can stay if you like.” She said, watching your knuckles clenched over the steering wheel.

“I need to do this. I need our last words to not be me being vindictive. It’s not worth it.” Sylvie was silent until you arrived at Med then, both of you lost in thoughts.

Matt met the two of you downstairs, coffees in his hands which were gratefully received. “You’re on till 12, Cruz is coming by then. We wanted to make sure folks could get some sleep before coming in, is that ok?”

“Yeah, is he still unconscious?” You nodded, forcing yourself to keep a straight face while preparing for bad news.

“Yeah. They don’t expect him to wake up for a while. If anything changes let me know?”

“Of course I will. Get some sleep, Casey.” Matt and Sylvie both hugged you, and you proceeded up the elevators to the ICU. A nurse went to ask you questions, but as soon as she saw your paramedic uniform she just pointed you in the direction of Kelly’s room. It was silent apart from the steady beep letting you know his heartbeat was still going.

As you took the visitors chair you picked up his hand, the warmth of it surprising you. He was paler than normal, his usually sallow skin almost yellow. Running your hand up his arm you remembered the last time you’d done it, stopping a sob from coming out of your chest.

“I should have talked to you. I shouldn’t have ignored you. I’m so sorry, Kelly. I’m sorry.” You raised his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it as you did. Your tears came unbidden, and you let them out at last.

“Hey, don’t cry.” Your head shot up, and you watched as Kelly’s eyes were open and you could see his familiar smirk.

“Kelly! You’re awake. Oh thank God.” You hit the call button for the nurse to come in and do her checks. You went to move out of the way, but Kelly intertwined his fingers with yours to stop you moving. Once she was gone you moved back, looking at him.

“I’m sorry. You freaked me out and I ran instead of talking. But after this, I need everyone to know we’re together. As long as I didn’t fuck it all up?” You smiled as he said it, squeezing his hand again.

“We fucked it up. Four am isn’t the time to talk about it. But I’m gonna be here as much as I can till you’re out, and I’ll be there while you’re recuperating. We’re a team, Severide. I’ll make us jerseys.”

He shifted over in the bed, pulling you up into it. You curled around him, being careful to avoid the large bandage on his side.

“Come on and sleep. You look like you need it.” You drifted off to sleep, his lips against your forehead as you were so grateful he was there. You didn’t even mind when Cruz woke you two hours later with an “I knew it!”

Taglist: @amazingbutterflyes @mcgreads @mileika @sunflowerr-mami @wanniiieeee

#Cíara writes #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide imagine #kelly severide x you

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dragon-kazansky · 3 years

Text

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 11

Zemo turns. Stark is looking right at him through that red and gold helmet. He has to win today. He has to win for you. You may hate him now over what happened back then, but he will always be in love with you. He wonders, are you watching him on TV now? Or are you completely done with him?

He wouldn't blame you if you were.

Being labelled a murderer isn't exactly something to celebrate. Stark had made sure he lived with that. Everything Zemo worked for, gone because of an accident.

Maybe if Pietro hadn't been driving a Stark vehicle, he would still be here today. The only car Stark ever builds that has had a high success rate is the one he drives himself.

Pietro's car malfunctioned. He couldn't turn the wheel. He crashed straight into the barrier, full speed. There was nothing left.

His life was over.

His engine flaring to life had him turning back to the track. He would win today. He had to. Even if he felt like a part of him was missing.

The engine. His breathing. The distant sound of the crowd. He let it all consume him. He was in the zone.

And then, he was off.

Stark kept in line with him. The pair of them darting across the track in perfect sync with each other. It was a game. A dangerous game. One Zemo may very well be done playing after this season.

Around the first bend.

Strange was just behind them, not getting too close. This rivalry was something he didn't want to get in the middle of. Every race he drives behind them, watching. Every race he wonders if something will happen.

One day, he is sure, it will.

They're still in line with one another as they approach the second bend. Tony, however, gets a little closer. Zemo doesn't look away from the road. He has to focus.

You might be watching.

The pair of them get round the bend with no issues as of yet. Tony is still too close for comfort, but Zemo will have to deal with it. He is relying on the third bend to put Stark back a bit. Once he's around it, he can give it all he's got.

However, Stark softens up a little. He falls back on the approach. Zemo didn't have enough time to think on it as his car malfunctions right under him. It locks, the wheel stuck. He can't slow down, and then-!

Hot. It's very hot.

Instinct kicks in. Zemo has never been in a situation like this before, but he has prepared for it. He has no time to panic as he focuses on getting out. He needs to get out.

The ground beneath him is a welcome feeling as he falls out, crawling away from his totalled car quickly.

The first ambulance, the one stationed nearest to the corner, arrives. They help him up and into the back, urgently looking him over.

Stark is approaching the line.

Zemo sits in the back of the ambulance. He let's them do what they have to do as he just sits there. His mind wanders to you. He hoped, in that moment, you hadn't been watching.

He realised right then and there that he no longer cared about winning. It wouldn't have been worth it anyway. Not without you there to celebrate with him.

Zemo was fine.

He had got out so quickly he was fine. They were still concerned for him, but he brushed them off. When he exited the ambulance, Sam and James were there.

"Worried?" He asked.

They turn and look at him, relief washing over them.

"We thought you were...."

"Dead?" He finished.

"Yeah. You alright?" Sam looked him up and down.

"I'm alive."

"What the Hell happened?"

"My car malfunctioned, so to speak. Everything locked up. I couldn't turn, I couldn't slow down. Yet, here I stand."

"Zemo, you don't think-?" Sam begins to ask.

"Who is to say? If there is anything left of my car once the fire is out, be my guest and take a look. Perhaps I should blow out now, cut my losses."

"Zemo, no. You can still race."

"Is there a point?"

"You miss them." James looks at Zemo with a stoic face.

"Of course I miss them."

Zemo looked like a broken man standing there. His fists were clenched and his jaw set.

"Y/N was watching," Sam told him.

Zemo looks at him.

"Sarah called Wanda. She had gone to see Y/N earlier. Apparently, Y/N had rushed into the back to watch the race when they heard it starting."

"Then Y/N saw that." Zemo's eyes drift to his car.

"You have got to call them," James said.

"What do I say?"

"The truth. You're in love with them. You're sorry for not being honest with them."

Zemo runs a hand down his face and sighs.

"I need to think."

He walks away, following the rest of the race track. The race finished moments ago. All cars, that hadn't also malfunctioned, crossing the line. Sam and Bucky watch him go.

Your boss had closed up shop for the rest of the day. He had sat with you in the office until you had managed to calm down a bit. You clutched your phone tightly in your hand as you sat in his office chair, waiting. You have begged him to turn the TV back on. Reports of the accident flooding in.

You were so scared.

There had been no confirmation on Zemo. They were just talking about what may have happened. You couldn't handle the not knowing.

You: Please tell me you're alive.

You: Reply, you bastard!

You: I need to know.

You had panicked texted him. You just needed any sign that he was alive and well. It didn't matter any more. You loved him, you believed him. You needed him to be alive.

"Staring at your phone isn't going to being an answer."

You lips your lip and nod softly.

"I know."

Your boss put some coffee on the table for you, but you weren't sure if you wanted it or not.

"Why haven't they said anything about him?"

"I don't know."

"Stark won, didn't he?"

"Yeah."

"Good for him," you say, bitterly.

"Maybe you should go home."

"I'll only sit and worry there. I could also use the company." You look at him with a small smile.

"Alright. Then, we shall sit here and wait. I'll stay here all night I have to."

You chuckle lightly, but your heart wasn't in it. Your heart was yearning for your man.

Was he still your man?

Damn it, you should have gone to the race.

Zemo sits in his locker room alone. His phone feels heavy in his hands. Your name is on his screen. His thumbs hovering over the keyboard.

He saw your texts.

It would be cruel of him not to reply.

When he saw your name pop up, his heart soared. You were worried. Scared. For him. Were you still in love with him?

He closed his eyes and sighed.

He was going to make things right, he had to. He had messed up everything enough.

Stark had a big storm coming.

His phone rang. He looked at the number. For a moment his heart sped up, thinking it was you. It wasn't. He didn't recognise the number.

"Hello?"

"Helmut?"

"Wanda?"

That was unexpected. He hadn't seen her since... well, since then.

"Did they tell you?"

"They said you had gone to see Y/N. Is this true?"

"Yes. They watched the race. I wanted to call and say, I forgive you. I never blamed you for what happened to my brother. It was Stark that had that car built for him."

"Yes, I remember."

"Is that little witch still with him?"

"Yes. She is here."

"I think it's time to reveal the truth to her. No more secrets, yes?"

"Yes." He smiles, though she obviously couldn't see it.

"I must go. I trust everything will work out."

"Yes. Wanda, thank you."

Wanda hangs up. Your messages pop back up. He smiles as he types. Once his message is sent, he gets up and walks out, determined.

Time to show Stark he isn't defeated by him. Zemo meant business now.

Your phone lights up.

You grab it quickly and open it, seeing the message on your phone. You could cry happy tears.

Your boss doesn't need to see the message to know who it is. Your whole face lights up as you look at him and smile.

Zemo: I need you too.

You have never moved so quickly in your life before.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch @scuttle-buttle @fillechatoyante @lucky-luck-lucky @zemosimp420 @avengersofmischief @breadsquash @the-chaotic-cow

#helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #marvel #AU

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jadelynlace · 3 years

Text

Ink Drinker / Modern Vikings AU [Ivar x F!Reader], Chapter 5

catch up here!

synopsis: Ivar was only meant to be a friend with benefits, but he caught feelings for his older brother’s best friend, and co-worker: you.

pairing: Ivar x F!Reader

***content warning [PLEASE READ]: this chapter is quite gruesome, please read at your own risk. yes this is based off of a trauma call I actually went to, and yes I am sparing some of the sicker details because it truly was one of the worst calls I had ever walked in on. and yes, it actually happened this way and yes, this helps me heal from it. ok, that is all.

author’s note: I’m so sorry.

✎

A sinful noise comes from Ivar’s mouth in the exact moment you entered in through the threshold. Truthfully, the sound sent a shiver down your spine, worrisome as the twenty four hour shift ended and Ivar had chosen to go to your flat last night, not his own.

“Why are you in my house, Ivar?” You say to him, eyes scanning over his half naked body as it tangled throughout the sheets, biceps set to curling around the rather feminine color of your duvet.

“Good morning to you too,” Ivar says back with a yawn that croaks from his mouth as he pulls the covers back. “Come lay with me,” Your mind rolls ideas between your ears, behind your eyes as you calculate why Ivar willingly came to your empty place the night prior, when he knew you were working yourself to death on the back of a never ending ambulance.

“That didn’t answer my question, Ivar,” Your voices teases him as you walk about the small space, pulling pins from your collar. He goes silent after your statement, moving the blankets to cover his face out of a twinge of embarrassment, not sure how you would take to learning that he felt better here. Felt happier, even when you weren’t home it gave him that sense that he wasn’t alone. You peek your head back to make out the large mound under the duvet, Ivar rolling under it and flopping on to his stomach. Tossing the discarded blues into your hamper, the tags, keys, pins and your tactical belt are all put away neatly in their homes as you pull on a shirt that no longer has a real shape to it. Ivar’s eyes peel open when you creep the covers off of his face, the cold air rushing against his skin and you’re in his vision—not as blurry to his glasses-less eyes as you make way to snuggle into him.

“Don’t want to creep you out,” Ivar says to you lowly, voice hoarse like sandpaper, scratching in its new use and you only turn your head to give him a sideways look. “It makes me feel better to be here,” He finally admits, fingers busying themselves with the loose hem on your shirt as he still won’t look at you. “Makes me feel less alone even if you’re not here,” You want to sigh, you want to cup his cheeks and push them together like he’s a toddler who’s being too damn adorable for your undertaking, but you can’t. These are words that took him a while to finally speak, progress for what darkness seems to leech in his mind at all hours, and now only a sliver of light comes through because he’s telling you how he feels. The reasoning behind it all, the baring of his soul on the bedsheets and stark naked with his emotions.

“You can come here whenever you want Ivar, you know that.” You say back, eyes searching his and they close briefly, sighing in a moment of relief because you’re not throwing him out on to the street for his choice. “Anything that makes you feel better, you should do,” You tell him, a peck to the corner of his mouth as you settle against him. “As long as it’s legal,” You add quickly, picking your head up in haste to move your point across and Ivar only chuckles as you do.

“You know what makes me feel better?” Ivar whispers and he’s climbs over you, pressing a weight to rein over you and you giggle. Sluggish as he moves with his hair tickling your face and he’s finally made the leeway with his figure, bending his forearms to catch his weight.

“What makes you feel better?” You ask him, looking up at this man who is so hopelessly in love with you he doesn’t even care to hide it on his face.

“You make me feel better,” Ivar tells you and the words hardly escape before his lips are against yours. Languid and soft, relishing in how your nails scratch up his back, humming as they press along his skin like keys on a piano and he finally drops his weight. Laying over you as his lips find their place on your pulse point, grazing the skin like thousands of little needles and you let a breathless moan pass from your tongue. Ivar only hums in response as his mouth stays busy, splotching you and navigating the skin to make sure more of the dots will stay hidden when you put your blues back on. His forehead rests on the length of your collarbone, his hand moving around the mattress to find yours. “I’ve never been in love until I met you,” Ivar whispers against you skin, sinking the praise into your pores and it shatters your heart but repairs it just as quickly. Resting his cheek he finally looks up at you, dragging his fingertips down your nose and there’s a low light that’s dancing off of his features, paling his blue eyes as he gazes at you.

“I love you, too Ivar,” You say softly and you mean the sentence with every single fiber in your body. You’d say it until you were blue in the face if it helped to heal every demon in his mind. He smiles as you say it, like he still can’t believe his luck.

“Want you—but I know you’re tired,” He mumbles and his lips take back to the game against your skin and you know he doesn’t mean to try to turn you in his favor. But you tell him about the coffee you had—more than you should have had if you planned to sleep some of the day away and he’s moving back over you again. Worshipping you with each press of his lips, each roll of his hips as he grinds down against your spread legs. He’s not rushed with how he feels you, how he only kicks his pants off and pulls your bottoms off as you undress fully for him, his eyes just watching your skin as he kisses each knee cap and then he’s back over you. Mouth against yours as the tip of his cock brushes against your opening, how that small notion is already so heavenly and when he’s finally pushing into you, you’re holding back on to him. Letting him know you’re there as he moves slowly in the morning light. Heavy breathing and soft mews between the both of you while Ivar brings you to your peek with the rolls of his hips and his tongue on yours. And he falls with you, panting and coating your walls and humming in pure contentment because this is a sensation he never wants to forget, never lose, as long as he lives, sleeping the morning away tangled between you and the sheets.

It had rolled into another slow morning left with nothing other to do than mop the bay’s floors and terrorize Hvitserk with unruly sprays from the soap gun. Laughing as he flinched, all but made inhuman noises whenever your aim got closer to his pristine blues. You two had gone on coffee runs, stopping to grab lunch and snacking away with boots up on the benches as another unrealistic drama show flashes from the screen. It was a bright change for the days that you two had spent together, but the quietness was never welcomed completely without the slow thoughts of what was to come lingering behind it. A car into a semi-truck. Hvitserk tipped his head back and groaned so loudly he nearly fell backwards from his chair. At least you were just able to blaze through the streets of town with loud horns and bright sirens and command the authority to have everyone bow to your right of way.

It was warm, growing increasingly so in the last few hours and the sun hung well above the road. Scattered with the remains of scrap metal, tangled mess of a car and the comically unbent eighteen wheeler. The fire engine met you on the scene, already blinking with two police cars and in your maneuvering to park the rig close, you caught more of the vehicle wreck. A tangled mess of a black mustang and you could feel the blood drain from your face as your heart stopped.

“Hvitserk,” You whine and that snaps his attention from the back the rig as he’s pulling gloves for both of you. “Oh my god Hvitserk it’s Ivar,” You all but yell and he bolts from the back of the double doors to round the ambulance. And then he sees it. And you see it. Your partner takes off, no protective gear as a shield and you grab him, locking an arm to pull him back as a look of panic crosses him like a field. “Focus,” You hiss at him. “Do your job and fucking focus—you’re the best medic on the god damn team and you need to prove that right now,” But you could say the speech until you’re blue in the face, gasping as the words fall with no meaning because Hvitserk is out of control for the first time ever on a call.

“He’s awake in there,” A voice calls from the other side of the car.

“Get the trauma bag.” You call to your partner and then you take off, steel toes rounding the car and there’s no door to open anymore. Just a blown out rear view window that’s already been cut by those jaws. You see Ivar blink and your mind shuts off completely.

“Hey baby,” His voice rasps when he sees you in his sight, picking his head up while the crushed front end of the car covers his legs like a blanket. Your heart is stabbed with a knife and you can’t worry about that right now, you can’t worry about how you feel because your uniform is telling you that you’re the only hope for the man you so deeply love.

“Ivar keep your head down please, I need you to stay as still as possible.” You tell him and Hvitserk makes his way behind you.

“We need the take this side off!” Hvitserk’s voice calls to the fire department. The noise of his voice floats behind you and he pulls another fire fighter to aid him in the collection of equipment he’s sending to you.

“What’s that?” Ivar asks you and you’re reaching behind you for the c-collar.

“This keeps your neck straight, Ivar, it’s very important that you don’t move. How else are you feeling?”

“My legs feel funny,” Ivar mumbles to you as you lock the device around his neck. At his words you peek down for the first time and your stomach rolls. Churning like a great open sea as you see the mess that is before the two of you. There is no clear cut determining factor of where his legs start and the car ends.

“Ivar can you feel my hand right here?” You ask him as you have it on his thigh.

“I like it when you touch me there baby,” Ivar slurs and it’s a twist of his words drooling from his mouth as he’s trying to stay awake. Even as his body shuts down. Even with the same bastard smirk. You back out slowly and Hvitserk replaces your spot as quickly as he’ll allow; tunneled vision as he asses Ivar’s closest vein and through a shake in his fingers, hooks him up to a line. “What are you doing brother?” He asks and his voice is smaller now, like a child and Hvitserk only sadly smiles.

“This is pain medicine Ivar, so we can get you out of the car. You’re going to get really tired and I don’t want you to fight it, alright? I’ll see you when you wake up.” Are the last words Ivar registers and his world becomes dark.

The hiss of the saw catches your attention as you watch the sparks sizzle on the heated asphalt. Linens down on the stretcher and reflective gear covering you but your body is so cold, chilled and down right hypothermic as the car groans lowly once it is peeled apart. Like bark from a tree as it curls into scrap metal and Hvitserk cranks two tourniquets on each of Ivar’s legs.

“Helicopter?” You call to him and he shakes his head.

“It’ll be faster if you drive him down to the trauma center. They won’t fly—it’s too cloudy today,” He calls back and you can’t help but think of the ever going joke about how the pilots don’t fly, even with only one cloud in the whole sky. There’s yelling, screams, the buzz of machines and too much noise but Ivar is still asleep, and you find comfort in the fact that he’s not seeing what you are. Your reflective vest catches the sunlight and it bounces into your face, mixes with your tear filled eyes and you wipe them along your sleeve to smear mascara and sweat. As soon as the command comes from around you that it’s safe, the car is stable and you can reach your patient, you waste no time.

It takes you, Hvitserk and two of the largest firemen on the team to pull Ivar from the wreck. Hooking around his arms and you can still smell his cologne over the burnt rubber that takes up home in your nostrils. His legs are crushed, obliterated and shattered and you’re queasy for the first time ever on a call. They drag behind him like dead limbs as he’s sliding up the back board. Hvitserk tears what was left of his jeans in adrenaline as he tries to wrap what he can to stay sterile but the injuries are far too extreme for you two alone to treat. The mess of mangled flesh and your heart breaks even farther as you see the art work on his skin now a waste because you know how Ivar loves his tattoos. They’re smashed and bent and somehow still there and if it were any other call there would be pictures being taken and you would be exchanging glances with your partner. Treating the rest of what he can and Hvitserk pales, because you both know Ivar may never walk again.

From above his belt, Ivar looks normal—he looks like the man you saw this morning—your Ivar. Obvious contusions from the seat belt and the airbag, torn shirt cut right up the middle as you attach the stickers to his chest. The Like Pak squeezes an already bulged bicep for his blood pressure and it’s dropping quickly. The non-rebreather mask’s reservoir fills with oxygen and you watch the plastic palpate, the fingers in his left hand twitch like they do when he’s asleep. It feels like a nightmare, loud noises and beating sun with clouds that pass and every time shade greats you, you find another injury on his body. The motions come so simply because your mind has gone, sucked out the window and on a vacation because you need to focus on what you’re doing, now more than ever.

Protruding tibia bones look back at you, knee caps that are now mere powder mock you. You see his bones, you see his muscles, you see every inner part of both of his legs stabbed with shrapnel and the glass, raw and cherry colored, and you think you’re going to pass out as you pull the gurney to the machine that grabs it, sucking into the back of the ambulance. Hvitserk jumps back there you slam the doors so quickly, trying to shut that world out to focus on this one. And then you pull the ambulance around and gun it, sandwiching the peddle between your blood covered boot and the ambulance’s floor. Even over the sirens, the blare of the horn you can hear your partner praying. Praying to a God he doesn’t believe in for his brother to live through this as the monitor sings a tune that Ivar is crashing.

“Come on brother—don’t do this to me,” He curses and pulls another vile, cranks the oxygen flow and sends more fluid into his body. “Don’t do this to me Ivar. Not today. Not today, Ivar,” And the tears finally start again in your eyes as you curse the vehicle for not going any faster. For its limit of one hundred and twenty miles per hour on the open lane of the freeway because cars have spread. They’ve parted as this creature screams for them to obey and you see the cop cars ahead of you, trying to pave the way and then the flight car. Your section chief right on your front bumper and you know he can tell its you driving the ambulance. You’re the fastest driver he’s ever employed and now is the time to remember that—and your job as you all carry Ivar’s body from this battle, into a much worse one.

Ink Drinker Tags:

@smileysam13579 @dreamtherapy @heisentwerk @angelofthenightposts @ill-skillsgard @youaremyfamiliar @unbetaedimagines @kathryn-jane @readsalot73 @skrsgardspam @lihikainanea @queen-sarang @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee @walkxthexmoon @flowers-in-your-hayr @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @istorkyou @victoria-styles @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @ivarhoegh @a5hl3y5ibley @apenas-mais-uma-pessoa @youbloodymadgenius @love-all-things-writing @theanxietyqueen17 @trip2themoon @tgrrose @synnersaint

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

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respectable-username · 3 years

Text

Because I'm obsessed with Hivemind Etho, here's another little story with them for the @hermitcraftheadcanons Hermitopia AU. As before, this is just a quick piece that's only been lightly edited because of the time constraints of this community AU.

This is also some setup for a potential future confrontation for somebody else to write.

---

The two Ethos stood at the door to the apartment, waiting for the hour to strike.

It was all they could do to not to brush the hastily cut and dyed hair away from one of their selves' forehead, or fight against the overly tight suit and tie, or scratch at the cheap surgical mask that sat in place of their regular cloth face covering, or the makeup that tried to conceal their prominent eye scar. The other self pulled their jacket closer, trying to extract enough comfort from it for the both of them.

The clock struck 7am. Etho knocked.

A few minutes later, the door was pulled open by a bleary-eyed Mumbo in a dressing gown.

"Hello– oh no what are you doing here please don't hurt me please don't hurt me."

The undisguised Etho pushed through the doorway as Mumbo backed away from the Unrestrained villain, now fully awake.

"Your ID card," said the Etho, entering the room.

"What?" said Mumbo.

"Your ConCorp ID pass," clarified the Etho, holding out their hand. "Give it to us. Now."

"Um, I don't think I'm supposed to do that," said Mumbo, desperately searching for something to grab.

The Etho's eyes bore into Mumbo, cold, unflinching, unwavering. One looked right at him while the other seemed to look right through him.

"Um, right, ok," said Mumbo. "Uh, can you pass me my bag? It's in there."

The disguised Etho entered the apartment and grabbed the briefcase sitting by the door, opening it and grabbing the pass inside, clipping it onto their own trousers. They closed the bag and held it beside them.

"Um, ok," said Mumbo. "I– is that all you wanted?"

"Your phone too," said the undisguised Etho.

"Please no!" Mumbo pleaded. "I can't lose that. What if there's an emergency and I need to call for help but I don't have my phone so the apartment burns down or if somebody gets hurt and I can't call an ambulance or–"

The Etho took a step forward. "Your phone," they repeated.

"Ok ok please don't hurt me," said Mumbo, retrieving his phone from his pocket and holding up both hands.

The Etho grabbed the phone and tossed it over their shoulder at their other self, who caught it flawlessly.

The Etho looked between the cowering Mumbo before them and their other, disguised self. About the same height. Hair roughly similar enough to pass. The ConCorp-issued suit didn't fit quite the same, and the face mask was an obvious difference, but it was close enough if nobody gave them a second glance.

And, having been observing Mumbo for the last few weeks, there didn't seem to be anybody who would give Mumbo a second glance.

The disguised Etho turned silently and left. The other Etho shut the front door and turned the lock, trapping them and Mumbo inside.

***

The disguised Etho walked up to the ConCorp entrance at 8:53am. This seemed to be the average time of Mumbo's arrivals. They walked towards the turnstiles and swiped Mumbo's pass.

"Everything alright?" asked a receptionist behind the main desk, presumably concerned by the face mask.

The Etho coughed. "I'll be fine," they croaked.

"Sweetie, if you're feeling unwell, you should be at home, resting," she said.

"Got stuff to do," croaked Etho, walking forward into the elevator before any further questions could be asked.

"Where's your office?" the Etho at Mumbo's apartment asked, sitting in a corner of Mumbo's couch from which they could see the whole room.

"Um, at ConCorp HQ," said Mumbo, fiddling with a teabag.

Etho sighed. "Precise directions from the elevator please," they said.

"Oh, uh, straight ahead down the corridor, last door on the left," Mumbo said.

The "Mumbo" Etho followed the described path and scanned their pass to enter the room.

The kettle clicked. Mumbo poured the boiling water out into the mug. The Etho in the apartment tensed, ready to spring away at any sign the hot contents would be flung towards them.

"And what's your password?" asked Etho.

"For what?" said Mumbo.

"Your ConCorp laptop," said Etho, the faintest wisps of exasperation creeping into their otherwise carefully controlled voice.

"I am so getting fired for this," sighed Mumbo.

"Better your job than your life," Etho replied flippantly.

"Of course," said Mumbo hurriedly. "It's – oh gosh I can't believe I'm saying this aloud – it's BMX4lyfe95!"

The Etho at the office typed it in. Finally, the internal network was open to them.

They started working to set up a reverse proxy to tunnel out from behind the firewall. Another of their selves at home was already positioned to connect to the network tunnel as soon as it was opened.

Mumbo poured milk into his mug, throwing away the teabag and walking over to the lounge. The Etho already on a couch got ready to jump, but Mumbo just sat down across from them and took a sip.

Mumbo stared down into his mug. "You're a hacker, right?" he asked, his eyes not looking up.

"One of my talents," said Etho cautiously.

"Since they're gonna fire me anyway, can I ask a small favour?" said Mumbo, still acting like his tea was the most fascinating thing in the room.

"Depends," said Etho.

Mumbo drummed his fingers against the mug. "I have this friend, Iskall," Mumbo said. "He's one of the office workers at ConCorp. I made his cybernetics after he got injured. But they keep breaking in weird ways and I don't know why. His explanations don't make sense! The metal I use doesn't melt like that from accidentally touching a stove. They shouldn't buckle like that from tripping into a wall. They shouldn't shatter from falling down a flight of stairs. I'm... I'm just worried for him. Is he in danger? What isn't he telling me?"

The Etho on the couch was quiet for a few seconds. "You only have partial access to the VEX files," they said. "There's a lot I can't find here."

"It's so creepy how you do that," said Mumbo.

Etho ignored him.

The Etho at home let out a quiet cheer as they managed to connect through the tunnel into the ConCorp network. They started browsing, collecting, and saving as much information as possible.

The Etho in the office switched their focus to finding some sort of privilege escalation vulnerability that would let them access the more secure files.

"Erm, I probably should have asked before," said Mumbo. "Would you like some tea? Some breakfast?"

"I'm fine," said the Etho in the apartment.

"So, uh, do you have any hobbies?" asked Mumbo.

"Please don't small talk," said Etho. "I'm busy."

"Oh, ok," said Mumbo. "Can I go grab a book or something then? Since, y'know, I don't have my phone or laptop or anything."

Etho nodded. "But if you call for help," they said, "I will know about it and I will make you regret it."

"Of course," said Mumbo.

The Etho in the office kept prodding at the ConCorp intranet. What they needed were the credentials of a superior, maybe even the Director himself. Hmm, it seemed from this directory structure that the Director was Mumbo's direct supervisor. It would only take a few hours to set up some sort of spear phishing attempt that would let them pivot directly onto the Director's computer. As long as they didn't get caught first, of course.

Etho opened Mumbo's calendar and declined all meetings that day that wouldn't look suspicious to avoid. There weren't many meetings to sort through.

"How often do you get visitors to your office?" Etho asked Mumbo.

"Iskall usually comes for lunch when he's not swamped by a project," said Mumbo. "Otherwise, nobody else just pops 'round usually."

"How about your boss?" asked Etho.

"He's busy," Mumbo said. "I have to go to him if we ever talk."

The Etho in the apartment nodded, settling back to focus on what their other selves were doing.

***

Hi Cub, Etho typed. Can you review this interface I made? It should let us remotely view what's happening with our heroes through their cybernetics. With some extra work, we could get actual video from their perspective to send to the media!

Etho sent the message, then sent the file with their exploit. The exploit was covered by a very quickly and poorly thrown together interface which returned the live location of a GPS receiver they had found in the lab.

They left it a few minutes, stretching back in Mumbo's desk chair as they waited for a reply.

Finally, one came through.

Hey Mumbo. Great prototype! We'll probably need to pass off development to the actual software engineering team, but this is a great initiative. I'm proud to have a thinker like you on our team!

Etho allowed themselves a smile as they checked to see if their exploit had worked. There it was, a tunnel open on the expected port right into the Director's machine. Jackpot.

The Etho at home pivoted through the new tunnel and started scraping as much information as they could.

"Your friend is a mercenary," the Etho in Mumbo's apartment said, making Mumbo jump at the sudden sound.

"Wait what?" said Mumbo.

"Iskall is a mercenary and assassin for ConCorp, working for them in exchange for ConCorp saving his life," clarified Etho.

"Iskall, a mercenary?" Mumbo said. "No no no no no. That can't be!"

"That's what his file says," Etho said with a shrug. "Either way, I've got what I need. I've called you in sick for the next week, and I'm keeping your pass to enforce that. Your phone will be returned, but I've programmed it to inform me if you let any part of today slip. I hope you understand."

"Uh, thank you, I guess," said Mumbo.

"I'll be here with your belongings in half an hour," Etho continued, standing up.

"What do– oh, right," said Mumbo.

"And don't do anything stupid," said Etho, opening the door to leave. "As thanks for your assistance, the nHo will try to keep you safe from any upcoming confrontation. But if you break this trust, that guarantee will not hold."

"I understand," said Mumbo, gulping at the idea of having to further betray his company, his friends.

The Etho left his apartment.

#hermitopia au #ethoslab #etho #mumbo #mumbo jumbo #res writes

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

trust that there will be light always waiting behind

8.4k || ao3

TK has gone out of his way to prove to Carlos that being a paramedic is every bit as dangerous as being a firefighter, it seems.

But Carlos will do whatever it takes to find him and bring him home safe, and he always will. Even if it means he needs to face some personal demons on the way. But it's worth it - he refuses to lose TK for anything. ------ A 2x08 speculative fic

All the kudos and thanks to @officereyes for not only convincing me to actually write this but for also brainstorming with me, a lot.

Will it happen like this? Probably not. But we can dream. All I can ask for is some quality Carlos and his dad content, and maybe Owen not being as shitty as he has been lately. But because I don't trust Fox to give us that, I wrote it.

Title from "Six" by Sleeping at Last

--------------

TK wasn’t sure how things had gone from normal to total nightmare in a matter of seconds, but here they were.

In this case “here” meant that the pregnant woman they were meant to be helping was not in fact, pregnant and that he and his team were now being held at gunpoint in an empty parking garage.

So yeah, total nightmare. And the day had started off so well.

He stood quietly, body tense with his hands up wishing he had been paying more attention; that he had noticed them coming from behind before they had gotten the drop on them. That he had noticed before he and his team were in danger. But he hadn’t and here they were: at gunpoint looking at a critically injured patient they were expected to save with only the gear in their medpacks. Which was especially bad, considering it seemed pretty clear that their survival depended on his.

He exchanged a glance with Nancy as he pulled open the bag to start grabbing gear, doing his best to shoot her a reassuring smile. All the while he couldn’t help but think about something Carlos had said when he had discussed becoming a paramedic with him. One of the pros, he had noted wryly as he planted a kiss on the top of TK’s head, was that at least his boyfriend being a paramedic instead of a firefighter would mean he would have to worry less. TK had rolled his eyes at the time but now he could say quite firmly that Carlos was wrong.

After all, he had never been held at gunpoint as a firefighter.

----------

A surprise party worked best when the person who is supposed to be surprised shows up, Carlos figured.

If it were anyone else, he might have been amused. But it was TK, who was supposed to be at his parent’s house for his surprise party 40 minutes ago. Tommy and Nancy were going to bring him by after shift but instead, none of them had shown up and Carlos couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

He could see the unease growing in the eyes of some of the others too as they made the transition from amused to concerned as the time ticked by. Carlos had tried calling TK almost a dozen times now, only to get his voicemail each time. He knew that Tommy and Nancy had gotten calls too, from Judd and Marjan respectively, with the same result. Now, 40 minutes later it had moved from a feeling to a fact: something was wrong. He could see Owen off to the side of the yard now, speaking lowly into his phone as he tried to get an update from dispatch. His expression was grim and when he ended the call Carlos crossed the yard towards him.

“Well?” he asked when he drew close enough, “what did they say?”

Owen shook his head, “They can’t reach the unit, and it hasn’t been in contact for over an hour.”

Carlos could feel the fear solidifying within him even as he asked the next question, “Were they able to tell you where?”

“I’m waiting on that info now.”

Even as he said it his phone dinged with an incoming text and Carlos craned his neck to read the address over Owen’s shoulder.

“That’s not too far,” he said, “if we leave now we should be there within the hour.” At Owen’s surprised look he raised an eyebrow, “What? You thought I was just going to stay here while you go look for them? Not likely.”

Owen nodded and managed a small smile, “Let’s go then. We have a paramedic team to find.”

--------

It took some negotiating but Tommy had managed to ultimately convince the people with guns that their friend would be better off receiving treatment in the ambulance rather than in the back of a van. As they packed up their supplies and got the patient ready to move to the ambulance TK’s mind was racing through all the implications. This move meant that they were planning on relocating, which meant that they would be leaving their last known location. Once they left this parking garage unless they were somehow able to check-in, dispatch would have no way of knowing where they were and they would be officially labeled as MIA.

Which was less than ideal, but did at least mean that someone would be looking for them. TK pushed the used gauze into a pile, taking care to make sure that his back was turned to their kidnappers as he reached for his neck and pulled at his necklace until the chain came undone. He slid it under the edge of the pile, where it would hopefully be spotted by anyone looking for clues. He looked up to see Nancy and Tommy both giving him curious looks. He met their eyes and mouthed, “Carlos.”

Once they were reported missing there was a zero percent chance that his boyfriend would not be involved in the search, he knew that without a doubt. It was subtle enough that it would hopefully pass their captors’ notice, but Carlos would recognize it instantly. It was something that would tell him that they had been here, and that they were in danger. Carlos would know that TK wouldn’t have parted with the pendant otherwise.

Nancy raised an eyebrow and Tommy shot him a quick smile as they finished their prep and got ready to move the patient. When they entered the ambulance and got the patient settled TK crossed to the cab and pulled himself into the driver’s seat, only to look down and get a sinking feeling. While traveling by ambulance would be ultimately better for the patient (and by extension, them) TK had also been banking on the fact that once in the ambulance there would be more opportunities to call for help.

Which was a hope quickly dashed when he saw that their radio had been ripped out, effectively eliminating the possibility of getting help that way. TK bit his lip and turned his eyes to the road in front of him as the armed man climbed into the cab beside him. “Drive,” he instructed plainly and TK complied, switching on the engine and shifting the vehicle into gear, acutely aware of the gun leveled at his chest the entire time. Getting shot was not an experience he had been looking forward to relieving ever again if he could help it.

“Where to?” he asked.

“Just drive and I direct you.”

TK nodded and slowly pulled forward, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

Maybe, just maybe these people were more reasonable than they seemed and maybe this wouldn’t end in disaster, TK thought to himself as he pulled out of the parking garage and headed to the right as instructed. They just need to keep everything calm until help arrived. Because it would, TK was sure of it.

--------

The ride there was filled with tense silence, their combined anxiety filling the car to capacity and leaving no room for words. Carlos kept an eye on the phone in his hand, the small blue dot tracing their location and showing their progress as they grew closer and closer to the destination flag. They were almost there. They would have answers soon, one way or another.

He spared a glance at Owen. The fire captain’s eyes were glued to the road and his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles shining white against the black upholstery. His jaw was set and his expression was full of a panic Carlos was sure was reflected in his own face. He wondered if Owen was thinking the same thing: things had been going so well. Possibly too well, and now the universe was looking to even the score. Carlos hated the thought — TK deserved all the good things the world had to offer, in his opinion — but it was one he couldn’t help but wonder. He just hoped that no matter what, TK would be okay. No matter what the universe was trying to throw at them as long as he was safe at the end, Carlos could take it.

Reaching the parking garage had been the easy part, it turned out. He and Owen drove the levels in tense silence, each scanning for any clues, any signs of the missing paramedics. It wasn’t until he saw a black panel van parked haphazardly that Carlos broke the tense silence: “Stop the car!”

Owen did and Carlos was out his door before the car had even lurched to a complete stop. He ran to the van, heart sinking as he noticed the back doors hanging open. He approached with increased trepidation, not sure what he was hoping to find. When he reached the back and got his first look inside the van, he was pretty sure this wasn’t it.

Bloody gauze and other medical scraps littered the ground, along with three broken cell phones, all of which seemed to have been smashed. Carlos could feel dread building in his gut as he surveyed the destruction. He sensed Owen come up behind him, heard the low curse he let out at the scene.

“There’s no saying any of the blood is theirs,” he reminded Carlos as if he could read the frantic thoughts racing through his mind, each possibility worse than the last.

Carlos bit back a retort — there was no good in reminding Owen that there was no saying it wasn’t either — and was about to ask another question when he noticed something silver poking out from under one of the gauze scraps. He leaned forward to grab it, heart sinking when he pulled it out to reveal a very familiar necklace.

“Maybe,” he told Owen as he turned, holding up the necklace while the FDNY pendant glinting in the low light of the parking garage, “but they were definitely here.”

Carlos hadn’t been sure it was possible but he was certain he saw the fear in Owen’s eyes grow as he took the necklace from Carlos, running his thumb over the numbers engraved in the pendant. “He left this as a clue,” he said quietly, and Carlos nodded.

“Which probably means they were taken somewhere else and TK wanted us to know they were here.”

Owen nodded, pulling his gaze up from the necklace to meet Carlos’s eyes, “We need to find them.”

His voice was tinged in desperation, a feeling Carlos knew well. He nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone as he took another look at the mess in the back of the van. “We will,” he told Owen, “and I think I know someone that can help.”

------

Their destination had turned out to be an abandoned restaurant, shuttered by the pandemic. As workspaces went it wasn’t a bad one, if a little dusty, and they got their patient set up on a prep table in no time, falling into their usual rhythm as they returned to this relative familiarity. TK was currently retrieving supplies from one of their cases and running through the situation in his head, separating it into pros and cons.

Pro: they had come here in an ambulance with their house number clearly painted on it in broad daylight. Once people started looking it shouldn’t be too hard to spot.

Con: they were deep into a neighborhood known for being an entertainment district. While traffic had decreased significantly overall since the start of the pandemic it was nearly non-existent this early in the day. The odds of a casual observer being in the neighborhood were slim to none, which was not a thought that brought much comfort.

The man shouted at him to hurry up and TK quickly added another con to his list as he grabbed the last thing and crossed back to the table: their kidnappers were not reasonable people and every moment that passed seemed to push them just that much closer to the edge. Even as he thought it the woman edged closer to Nancy, causing her to tense as the cold metal of the gun was pressed against her side.

“Hey,” he said firmly, “if you want us to save your friend, you need to let us work. That means you and your guns should be at least 6 feet away. It’s a little hard to focus otherwise.”

The woman glanced at the man, who was studying TK. TK met his gaze steadily, not looking away until the man nodded and turned to his companion, “Go wait by the door, just in case. They’re not going anywhere.”

She nodded and TK could breathe easier as she stepped away from Nancy, who visibly relaxed and shot TK a grateful look. Tommy eyed him quickly before returning her focus to the patient. “I appreciate what you’re doing, Strand, but in the future maybe let’s try to not antagonize the criminals with guns, yeah?”

TK nodded as he worked, “Sorry Cap, I just really don’t like guns. Chalk it up to bad personal experience.”

Nancy grimaced at the reminder and Tommy nodded, “Then let's keep this calm, no one needs to get shot today. I’m not losing another member of my crew, you both got that?”

“Yes Cap,” TK and Nancy chorused, lapsing into silence as they worked. Unfortunately, with their supplies, there was only so much they could do. They had had a busy morning before this call had come in and no time to restock in between. They were running low on pretty much everything, and everything they had would have hardly been enough to repair the damage before them on a good day. But, despite everything, he was still a patient and he was still in need of treatment so they did what they always did: everything they could.

Even as they worked TK made sure to keep one eye on their kidnappers. With each passing minute, they seemed to get more and more restless, and increasingly desperate. The woman even seemed twitchy and TK vaguely wondered if she was going through withdrawal. All the signs were there and if she was that made their situation even worse. TK knew how that felt first hand and knew what it could do to a person’s mental state. The idea that she might be coming down from a high and was currently pointing a gun at them was less than ideal and he mentally added it to his con list.

Surprisingly, she wasn’t the one to crack first. TK was helping Captain Vega to do what they could to clean and secure the entry wound when the man stepped closer, waving the gun around as he shouted, “What is taking so long? We’ve been here too long, we need to get moving!”

“Do you want it done right or do you want it done fast?” Tommy asked evenly, her voice calm and level.

The man scowled at that, but stepped away, “Just, go as fast as you can.”

TK watched him walk away, glancing at the clock above the door and cursing before running his free hand across his face, the hand holding the gun tapping against his leg.

“He’s spiraling Cap,” TK noted softly, “we might need a plan if you want to avoid that whole one of us getting shot thing.”

“And we’ll find one,” Tommy agreed, “but for now we stick with the original one: do our jobs and keep calm.”

TK nodded tersely and continued with the task at hand. It was only a few more moments before his Captain gave a soft curse and he looked over to see her scowling at the bag next to her. “We’re out of saline,” she said in answer to his questioning look, “can you go see if there is any more in that bag by the door?”

TK nodded and crossed the bag laying on the ground next to the door they had entered. As he grew closer he noticed that the bag wasn’t the only thing by the door: a fire alarm, bright red against the white of the walls and shining like a beacon of hope as he drew closer, was situated on the wall just past the bag. If he could reach it and pull it, dispatch would be notified. A fire company and at least one APD unit would be called and the alarm might be enough of a distraction for them to get out of here and get somewhere safe until help arrived. He threw a quick glance over his shoulder to see that the two armed assailants were not watching him and made up his mind. He was going to pull it, and hope for the best. If it doesn’t work it’ll have been his idea and his idea alone — the rest of his team doesn't need to be involved in this. This was a stupid choice he could make for himself and by himself.

He stepped forward, hardly daring to breathe as he drew closer. He was just about to reach out his hand when he heard footsteps behind him, loud and fast. He turned in time to see a hand reaching for him, aiming to strike him with the side of the gun. He ducked, the hand missing his target as he dodged the blow. The man came for him again and TK managed to dodge the next blow as well, and the one after that.

They moved away from the wall and TK had the frantic thought that maybe he could get the gun away from him, maybe he could actually get the upper hand. He reached for it, throwing himself into the man’s space and reaching around for his arm. He leaned closer, so intent on his goal that he didn’t notice the man rummaging on the nearby shelf with his free hand. He didn’t notice his other hand at all until a sharp pain ripped through his side, causing him to release his grip on the other man involuntarily. He stumbled back, hands reaching blindly to the source of the pain coursing through his body. He felt a warm and sticky wetness and was about to lift his hand to examine it when he felt another sharp pain which caused his vision to go white before everything went black and he knew no more.

-----

Carlos hadn’t had to say too much before his dad had agreed to help out. One of the perks of being a Ranger, Gabriel reminded his son, was getting to choose the cases he focused on from time to time. He wasn’t sure if it was the words he had said or the tone of his voice that had done the convincing but within two minutes his dad had taken down the address and was on his way. He had said he was likely 10 minutes out but each one of those minutes seemed to stretch on endlessly.

He and Owen waited in tense silence, neither saying a word since Carlos had hung up the phone with the news that a Texas Ranger was on the case. Owen had raised an eyebrow but after Carlos clarified that it was his dad his expression had shifted to something unreadable and Carlos wondered how much Owen knew about his parental situation in regards to TK.

He didn’t have to wait long to find out, as it happened. About 4 minutes into their wait, after Owen had made a phone call to Gwyn and Carlos had sent out some updates to the team, Owen cleared his throat, turning to Carlos before he spoke.

“I don’t want to pry, Carlos, but TK mentioned something about you and your parents a few months ago and I just want to know where that stands. I don’t want to make things weird for you, but I also don’t want to accidentally reveal any information you’re not okay with.”

Carlos nodded, feeling a rush of appreciation for the older man’s tact as he responded, “They know I’m gay,” he told Owen plainly, “but they don’t know I’m in a relationship. They’ve never known about any of my relationships, we just don’t talk about it. When TK and I ran into them at the farmer’s market I introduced him as a friend and as far as they know that’s the truth.” Carlos turned to see Owen’s reaction, not sure what to expect. Anger maybe? Frustration or upset?

When he did turn he didn’t see any of those. Instead, the older man’s face was neutral as he nodded. “They won’t find out otherwise from me,” Owen promised him, and Carlos nodded his thanks, letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding. He was surprised, however, when Owen continued talking.

“I know it’s not my place to tell you how to interact with your parents,” he began, “but for what it’s worth, I would never want TK to keep something that was important to him from me because he was worried it might make me upset or uncomfortable. From everything you and TK have said about your parents, I wouldn’t be surprised if they felt the same way.”

Carlos could feel Owen’s gaze on him, steady and reassuring despite everything, and he nodded. He could feel Owen’s words rattling inside his head, but there was no way to process them right now, not when the fear of possibly losing TK and the worry that his danger-prone boyfriend was missing was so soundly occupying the forefront of his thoughts.

He was still trying to parse through it all when he heard the sound of a vehicle approaching. He stood as he recognized his dad’s truck, crossing to meet him as he pulled to a stop. “Thank you,” he told his dad as he stepped out, “I really appreciate this.”

“Anything for you, mijo,” his dad assured him with a smile, “all you have to do is ask. Which you rarely do, which tells me this is pretty important.”

There’s something else there, in his dad’s words and his expression, that tells Carlos that his dad knows there is something Carlos isn’t telling him, but he ignores it. It didn’t matter right now — nothing mattered except for finding TK. “Still,” he says instead before turning to Owen who has been hovering at the back of the van. “This is TK’s dad, Captain Owen Strand of the 126.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Captain,” Gabriel says with a nod, “I wish it were under better circumstances.”

“Likewise,” Owen replies quickly before diving right in. “Were you able to find out anything yet?”

“Actually yes,” Gabriel admitted and Carlos tensed at the expression on his dad’s face. It was the one he used when he tried to break bad news gently. “We think we may have identified the suspects. There was a bank robbery this morning and the suspects fled in a van matching the description Carlos gave me. There were three suspects — two who entered the bank and one getaway driver — and bank security thinks that they hit one of them while exchanging fire as they fled.”

There was so much information trying to squeeze into Carlos’s head now. None of it was good but one fact jumped out amongst the others. The suspects had exchanged fire with the security guards which meant…

“They’re armed,” he said tersely, the dread he had already been feeling threatening to overtake him now, “the suspects are armed.”

“And they needed the paramedics to treat their partner,” his dad agreed grimly.

“Do we know anything about what kind of shape the injured suspect was in?” Owen asked and Carlos could tell that his mind had gone to the same place his own had: if the paramedics were not able to save the injured bank robber, things didn’t look great for them. Their best hope was for a minor injury but judging by the amount of bloody gauze in the back of the van and the fact that it was a gunshot wound the chances for that were slim to non-existent.

Gabriel shook his head, “No, and the security cams in this parking garage are just for show, I already had someone check.”

So TK and his team were being held at gunpoint, being asked to provide medical care that should be done in a trauma room, and there was no way of saying where they had been taken or if they were okay. Carlos could feel his chest tighten in panic as the hopelessness of the situation set in.

“Are there any leads?” he asked, not even bothering to hide the desperation in his voice.

“Well, they did leave in an ambulance, and that’s not exactly subtle,” his dad reminded him bracingly. “We’ve put out a bulletin — every cop, sheriff, and ranger will be looking for it. We’ll find them, mjio.”

Carlos nodded because he didn’t trust himself to speak and because he desperately needed it to be true. They needed to find them, and TK needed to be okay. Nothing short of that would be enough.

----------

TK knew he was somewhere he shouldn’t be, but he couldn’t seem to do anything about it.

There were voices nearby, but TK couldn’t process any of them. Some of them sounded familiar but others were foreign; unknown with a hostile edge. He tried to open his eyes, to try and take stock of his surroundings but all he could see were vague and blurry shapes. He thought that someone called his name but he couldn’t bring himself to answer. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was in pain, and he was in danger.

The pull of the darkness was stronger than any fear or curiosity, however, and it washed back over him without hesitation, pulling him back under.

---------

Riding in his dad’s truck with his dad and Owen Strand would have been awkward on a good day but today, with his mind full of fear for TK and the tension of the secret between them all, it was unbearable. Carlos couldn’t stop his leg from bouncing anxiously against the floor — the exact same nervous tick he teased TK about on an almost daily basis. The irony wasn’t lost on him, or Owen it seemed as the man leaned forward from the back seat to put a steadying hand on his shoulder, empathetic eyes meeting his own in the rearview. Gabriel kept up a steady stream of one-sided chatter, undaunted by the lack of response from his traveling companions. Every once in a while his radio would crackle to life and Carlos could swear that he could feel his heart seize each and every time.

But every time it was the same: no news, no one had spotted the ambulance yet. Crime scene techs had scoured the van and surrounding area, pulling fingerprints and looking for anything else that could give them a lead on who these people were and where they may have gone. Carlos knew all too well that criminals, especially ones involved in crimes that took as much planning as a bank robbery did, were creatures of habit. If they had somewhere they felt was safe and secluded enough, they would go there. It was up to them to find it.

Carlos knew that his anxiety had not gone unnoticed by his father. He sent him surreptitious glances from time to time, in between radio updates and idle chatter. Finally, he asked a question: “You really care about this TK, don’t you?”

The opening was there, Carlos could see it. A part of his mind told him his dad must too, to open the door so plainly. But the fear of what could happen, of what he has convinced himself he stands to lose is too much. There was already so much fear in his heart from this nightmare he was trapped in, he can’t stand any more. So he nodded and simply answered, “Yeah, I do.”

He tried not to notice the disappointment and pity he could feel from all sides as Owen met his eyes again in the mirror. But his boyfriend’s father stayed silent as promised and Carlos looked away, turning his attention to the window instead. He knew he needed to tell them, he had been coming closer to making that decision on his own with each passing day. Now he just had to hope that they both survived this one and that there would still be something to tell at the end of it all.

His pessimistic spiral was interrupted by the familiar crackle of the radio. He listened absently as his dad grabbed it and at the words that came in response. At least he was only listening absently until some of the words processed in his mind: “Ambulance 126 has been spotted in an alley off W. Fourth St.”

His heart was working on beating its way out of his chest now. He sat upright, looking around frantically to get their bearings. They were only a few blocks east of West Fourth, they could be there in minutes. He relayed this to his dad who nodded before flipping on his lightbar and heading in the direction of the address provided. As they drove Carlos sent his desperate hopes out to the universe. Let them all be okay, let them actually be in or at least nearby the ambulance. Above all, let TK be safe.

As they sped through the city that was the thought that Carlos played on a loop in his head. Let TK be safe, and everything else would be fine

----------

TK came to awareness slowly and at first, the only thing he was truly aware of was the feeling of someone repeatedly tapping his cheek.

“Cut it out,” he whined and heard a relieved sigh in response.

“He’s awake,” a voice — Nancy? — declared and TK tried to open his eyes. It took several tries but he managed, painstakingly blinking them open to reveal the worried faces of his Captain and his partner staring down at him.

“Hey guys,” he said as he tried to pull himself into a sitting position, “why the long faces?”

Captain Vega looked unimpressed with his efforts and pushed him back down onto the ground. “Don’t try to play nice with me Strand after you did that. Of all the reckless, foolhardy things. I really thought you had more sense than that.”

TK frowned at her, trying to piece together all the uncategorized shapes and sensations floating through his hazy mind, “What do you…” he began, but broke off when a sharp pain ripped through his side and Nancy pressed gauze down onto his side, “oh.”

It was coming back now.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” his Captain scoffed, “what were you thinking TK?”

“I was thinking that they were getting more and more unhinged the longer we were here and that if I had been able to pull the fire alarm dispatch would be notified and it would have given us enough of a distraction we could have maybe saved ourselves,” he said defensively, trying hard to sound assertive when even just the dim lights of the kitchen were causing explosions of pain in his head.

“And how did that go for you?”

“Not great,” he admitted. “How long was I out?”

“Not too long,” Nancy told him as she lifted up the gauze to check on his stab wound, “and I’ve got the bleeding slowed but this wound is pretty deep. Not to mention the knife did not look particularly sterile so this needs treatment, soon.” She nodded towards the abandoned blood-covered chef’s knife on the ground that the man must have grabbed during their scuffle, and TK groaned.

“So probable infection,” he muttered, “great.”

“Not to mention with the width of that knife likely some significant damage,” Tomy reminded him, her unimpressed look holding firm.

“It’s not like I had any way of knowing he was going to find a knife, to be fair.”

“To be fair, I would think the guns should have been enough of a deterrent,” Tommy countered. “Wasn’t getting shot once enough for you?”

TK shifted uncomfortably under his Captain’s gaze and was about to fire back a retort when Nancy interrupted, “Can you both knock it off? Yes, that was incredibly stupid TK and if you weren’t already hurt I probably would have hit you myself. But it was also pretty brave, Cap, and he meant well. Either way, arguing about it is not going to change the fact that we’re still being held hostage and TK is still hurt so maybe it would be best if you both stopped, for my sanity if nothing else.”

She gave them both a hard look and TK did his best approximation of a nod with his throbbing head, not eager to be on his partner’s bad side. Tommy nodded as well, though the look she gave TK promised that they would be revisiting this later, assuming there was a later. He cleared his throat and glanced towards the table where their patient was still laid out, “How is he?”

“Stable, for now,” Tommy answered, following his gaze. “He’s going to need more blood than we can give him though: his friends don’t know his blood type and we only have so much O neg on hand.”

TK nodded, reading in between the lines of what his Captain wasn’t saying: he didn’t have much longer and if he didn’t, neither did they. “What are the others up to?”

“Arguing,” Nancy said softly, “about what to do with us.”

TK turned his gaze to them and though he couldn’t hear their words, he had a feeling he knew what they were saying and it wasn’t good. His suspicions were confirmed a few moments later when they approached.

“That’s enough of that,” the man informed them, gesturing roughly to where Nancy was tending to TK’s stab wound, “get away from him.”

“He needs—” Nancy tried to argue, but TK put a hand on her arm and gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before holding out a hand for the supplies.

“It’s okay,” he told her, “I can handle it from here.”

She didn’t look impressed or convinced, but a wave of the gun prompted her to hand them over and pull herself up from the floor, stepping in the direction indicated by the woman. The man looked down at TK with disdain, “You’re done causing trouble,” he announced, “Because if you do it again, I will start shooting, but I won’t be aiming at you. Got it?”

TK swallowed and nodded. What else could he really say to that? He wasn’t about to risk his team’s safety for anything.

“Good,” the man declared with a nod, “glad we’re on the same page.” He turned to Nancy and Tommy now, “Is he stable enough to be moved right now?”

“He’s as stable as we can make him with what we have on hand,” Tommy told him calmly.

“Then we’re moving,” he declared, “we have another van stashed nearby. We’re going to move out,” he gestured towards himself and his companion, “and we’re taking our friend and this one with us.”

When all eyes turned to him TK realized “this one” meant him with a start. Which was...less than ideal, but at least he would know that the other two were out of danger and could probably get help.

“Absolutely not,” Tommy said in her firmest tone, “he’s injured, he needs treatment.”

“Which is why I know he’ll be no trouble,” the man countered, “plus he’s a paramedic, isn’t he? He can treat himself. I’ll let you give him some supplies, I’m not unreasonable.”

TK could practically see Tommy’s anger rising from his position on the floor and he spoke up before his Captain could say anymore, “It’s okay Cap,” he said, hoping his voice sounded more sure out loud than it did to his own ears, “I’ll be fine.”

Tommy turned her gaze to him and was more likely than not going to tell him how many ways that was not happening, but any arguments she may have made were abruptly cut off by the sound of the door banging open and a barrage of police officers entering the scene, guns raised.

TK let himself sag against the wall in relief as he saw their two assailants surrounded and even more when he spotted a familiar gaze in the crowd, filled with fear and worry as it grew closer to him.

“Carlos,” he said quietly, managing to pull a small smile to his face.

“Hey Ty,” Carlos said roughly, reaching out to run a hand through his hair even as he surveyed him for damage. His eyes widened and his jaw clenched as he spotted the bloody gauze poking out from underneath his hand just above his hip.

He reached for it, but TK called his name softly before shaking his head ever so slightly, “leave it be, I’ll be fine. I’m just so happy to see you.”

Carlos looked like he wanted to argue but he bit his lip, turning instead to the crowd behind them. TK followed his gaze and froze when he spotted Gabriel Reyes amongst the officers. He pulled away from Carlos ever so slightly, “Your dad…” he began, but Carlos shook his head, gripping TK hands tighter, not letting him pull away.

“That doesn’t matter right now,” he told him, “all that matters is that you’re safe.”

TK had so many questions, but his head was swimming. He wasn’t sure if it was the blood loss or the head injury, but it was getting harder and harder to follow a fluid thought. He opened his mouth to try and ask any of them but was saved from the trouble of doing that by his dad appearing at his side, expression anxious as he kneeled down. He looked him over before calling over his shoulder for a medic and TK tried really hard to follow what was happening but it was becoming so much harder with each passing moment.

He was so disoriented he almost missed the commotion that erupted around them. All he knew was that Carlos’s hand was suddenly gone from his and he blinked several times, forcing himself to focus on what was happening around them. The woman had somehow managed to free herself of the officer cuffing her and had managed to grab her gun again. She was waving it frantically and shouting, but her words were a blur to TK. All he could focus on now was the fact that Carlos was closest to her, and that he was stepping closer to her.

That he was standing firmly between her and TK.

The rest of the world might be a blur of noise and light but this was clear as day. Carlos was stepping towards the woman, hands raised as he tried to speak calmly to her. But TK knew in his heart that he had been right about her state and knew that there would be no reasoning with her. But he also knew that Carlos would try, because that’s what Carlos did. He helped people, no matter what.

The next moment happened in a blink of an eye but TK saw it as if in slow motion. Carlos took a step forward, his soothing voice still speaking to her, still vibrating its way through the air as another sound erupted between them, eclipsing Carlos’s voice.

It was the sound of a gun firing and TK could do nothing but watch in horror as Carlos’s stride faltered before he stumbled. He could do nothing but try to call out his name with whatever breath he still had in his lungs as Carlos went down, and he could do nothing but feel his heart shatter when he didn’t get up.

TK tried to go to him, tried to push himself off the ground. He needed to help, he needed to save Carlos. But his body wouldn’t listen. The pain in his side sliced through him again with a vengeance and the last thing TK saw was Carlos’s unmoving body before his vision faded to black and he knew no more; left with the worst sight he had ever seen in his life as company as he fell into the darkness.

-------

Carlos woke slowly, bits and pieces of his surroundings making themselves known to him and helping to fill in the blanks in his mind: he was in the hospital, he had been hurt, he had been searching for TK…

And that was the thought that brought him back to consciousness. He opened his eyes with a gasp, feeling hands on him instantly. “TK,” he tried to ask, “is he…”

“Relax, mijo,” his dad told him soothingly, “TK is safe. He just woke up from his own surgery a short while ago. His dad assures me that he’s fine, and asking about you.”

Carlos took a deep breath and willed his heartbeat to slow. TK was alive, they had found him. He was hurt, but he was doing okay and Owen was with him. That did answer a lot of his questions, but there were still so many left. Starting with, “What happened?” he asked his dad.

Gabriel settled into the chair at the side of the bed, leaving a hand on Carlos’s arm as he studied him, “What do you remember, Carlos?”

“I remember TK and his team going missing, calling you, and finding them. After that, not much.”

Gabriel nodded and his hand on Carlos’s arm tightened, “One of the kidnappers, the woman, went a little crazy when your colleagues tried to bring her in. She freed herself from the officer’s trying to cuff her and you were closest. Well,” he amended, “you and TK. But you put yourself between them and tried to talk her down. It…” his dad broke off, clearing his throat and continuing with a thick voice, “it didn’t go well. You were shot, Carlos, right in front of me. I was so scared I was going to lose you, mijo. You cannot scare me like that, I am an old man.”

Despite it all, Carlos chuckled, “Please, you are not old dad. There are 20-year-olds older than you.”

His teasing didn’t put a dent into his father’s upset, and Carlos sobered, “I’m sorry,” he said instead, “that can’t have been easy. I know what it’s like to see someone you care about hurt like that. I’m sorry you had to see that, dad.”

Gabriel shook his head, leaning forward again, “You have nothing to apologize for Carlos,” he said firmly, “you only did what you thought was best, what you needed to do to protect the man you love.”

Carlos’s breath caught in his throat and his eyes widened, but his dad held his gaze, a small smile playing on his lips, “You are not subtle, mijo. I had a feeling since this all started, but the moment I saw you with him, I knew.”

“I’m sorry I kept this from you and mom,” Carlos apologized softly, “that I lied to you when we met at the Farmer’s Market.”

“Stop apologizing Carlos,” Gabriel instructed, his tone matching his son’s, “you have nothing to apologize for. If anyone should be apologizing I think it should be me. Clearly, I did something or said something that made you feel like you couldn’t share this and for that I am so, so sorry. I never wanted you to feel like you had to hide anything from us, especially not this. I’m...” he trailed off and Carlos was surprised to see tears in his dad’s eyes, “I’m just sorry,” Gabriel finished, “I need you to know that. That and the fact that both your mother and I love you so much, no matter what.”

“I do know that,” Carlos assured him, “I never doubted that for a second.”

His father smiled at him and Carlos could feel a weight that had been subtly resting on him for nearly 10 years lifted. He met his father’s eyes and returned the smile.

“Dad,” he said clearly, with a confidence that had been so many years coming, “I have a boyfriend. His name is TK Strand, and I love him. He means everything to me.”

“I’m happy for you Carlos,” his father told him, a soft smile covering his face, “you deserve nothing but the most wonderful love the world has to offer, and I hope this boy can give you that.”

“He can,” Carlos assured him, “he does.”

----------

TK was staring moodily at the dark ceiling of his hospital room. Yes, he was beyond grateful to have been rescued and that his teammates were safe. They had just been by actually — both women very clear that they would stab him themselves next time if he ever tried to do something so reckless again — and he had been happy to see them. Just as he had his parents and his friends, all who had stopped by before the doctor informed them all that he needed rest.

That was all wonderful and he was grateful, but the one person he wanted to see more than anyone else — that he needed to see — was in a room of his own on the other side of the hospital. He had been assured by multiple reliable sources that he was fine: awake and alert and recovering nicely from his gsw (fuck, Carlos had been shot. That was a thought and a memory that was going to haunt him for a while, he knew it). But he had been denied any and all requests of seeing him with his own eyes due to his concussion — hence the dark room as light still wreaked havoc on his head — and the antibiotics slowly dripping their way into his system in an effort to cut off any possible infection from the dirty knife blade before it had a chance to take root. Which, as a paramedic, he recognized was reasonable. If it were anyone else he would have recommended the same. But it wasn’t anyone else. It was him and it was Carlos, and TK needed to see him with his own eyes before he could believe that he was really alright.

Since that was beyond his control, that left him with pouting about it in the dark, which is what he intended to do about it for the foreseeable future.

A soft knock at his door interrupted his plans and when he turned his head in the direction of the door, his breath caught in his throat.

“Carlos,” he breathed, his name emerging from his lips like a prayer as the other man gave him a small, tired smile from his wheelchair in the door. Behind him stood his father, looking at TK with a smile that told him everything he needed to know.

He waited as Gabriel pushed the wheelchair into the room, reaching out for Carlos, taking his hand in his own as soon as they were close enough to touch. He moved to the side of the bed, leaning over and meeting Carlos in a soft, tender kiss that he hoped did something to relay even a portion of the emotions he was feeling. They pulled apart and he met Carlos’s eyes, studying them and him for any signs that he wasn’t okay, but his study was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He looked up, startled, to see Carlos’s father watching them with a bemused expression.

“I will leave you both alone,” he promised, “but first I just wanted to take a moment to meet you properly, TK. I am very glad you are okay.”

“Thank you, sir,” TK said warmly, still clutching Carlos’s hand.

Gabriel shook his head, “None of that ‘sir’ business now,” he told him, “as far as I’m concerned we’re family now. Call me Gabriel, please.”

“Well Gabriel, TK said lightly, “I am happy to meet you, officially.”

He grinned at Carlos, he matched his expression without a second thought. Gabriel watched the pair of them, smile growing.

“I would love to talk more with you TK, take some time to get to know you, but I know when I’m not wanted so we’ll take care of that later. Just remember Carlos,” he told his son, voice suddenly firm, “you’re injured too. Don’t overdo it.”

“Yes dad, thanks.”

Gabriel gave them both a smile and with an affectionate squeeze of Carlos’s shoulder, he was gone.

“So,” TK said as he watched the older man walk away, “you told him.”

Carlos scoffed, “I didn’t have to. He spent all day with me, looking for you. He figured it out pretty quickly.” He paused here, swallowing thickly as he looked back at TK, “God Ty, I was so scared. I don’t know what I would have done…”

TK cut him off, pressing a hand against his face, “Hey, none of that. We’re both okay, and that’s what matters.”

But even as he said it, he could feel his voice waver. The last memory he had before blacking out of Carlos collapsing after being shot would be forever ingrained in his memories, a vision he was sure would come back to haunt him for many nights to come. Carlos leaned forward now, placing a hand on top of TK’s and pulling it away from his face so he could twist their fingers together.

“Same goes for you,” he said firmly, as if he knew where TK’s mind had gone. Because of course he did. It was Carlos, and TK knew there was no part of him that was a mystery to the other man.

“Hey, remember when you said being a Paramedic would be less dangerous than being a firefighter?” TK quipped in an attempt to lighten the mood and Carlos rolled his eyes.

“Only you could manage to prove that wrong,” Carlos fired back, his voice a blend of fondness and exasperation. “Maybe you can try not to keep proving that wrong though, for my sake?”

“I guess I could try,” TK said softly, “if only for you. I love you an awful lot, you know.”

Carlos leaned forward and pulled him into a kiss with more heat than before. It was warm and bright and so full of everything TK had been so afraid of losing for good. When they pulled apart, both breathing heavier and both leaning in, resting their foreheads on each other, Carlos responded, “I love you so much, Tyler Kennedy. Don’t you ever get kidnapped on me again.”

“I’ll do my best,” TK promised, “but I know that if I do, you’d come find me.”

“And I always will,” Carlos assured him, squeezing their linked hands, “no matter what.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #911ls season 2 #911ls speculation #my writing #userkimmy #userjilly #userac #usermaximus #tuserpaige #userbones #jazzyjess #hierophvnts #maizsnex #buckybarnesalways #reyeslonestartag #immortalstrand

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thebookreader12345 · 3 years

Text

Collision

Pairing: Matt Casey x Sibling! reader

Summary: Y/N, who is Matt Casey’s younger sister and also a member of Truck 81, is hurt badly when the firetruck gets into an accident

Requested: No

Warnings: mentions of a car accident and severe injuries, plus some light swearing

Word Count: 1,537 Words

Note: This is taken from Chicago Fire S3 Ep3, Just Drive the Truck

“Hey boys,” I say cheerfully as I walked into the break room. “What are you guys doing?”

“Looking at a food truck for Molly’s II. Look at this baby. She’s a beauty,” Joe exclaimed and showed me a picture of the food truck.

“Wow. That looks pretty nice. How much is it?” I ask.

“Only $12,000,” Joe answered.

“No,” Otis interjected. “That 12K at the top is how many miles the truck has. The price is right here. $79,000.”

“Oof. Better luck next time.” Mouch responded and Joe’s shoulder. Just then, the alarm sounded throughout the firehouse.

“Engine 51, Truck 81, Squad 3, Ambulance 61. Structure fire, 16th and Wabash,” the dispatcher spoke through the intercom.

“Duty calls,” I mumble and turn back around to head to the apparatus floor. I put on my gear pretty quickly and climbed into Truck 81. My seat was against the back wall of the truck, so when I was looking forward, I could see out the windshield. Out of the 3 seats in my row, I was the one furthest on the inside of the truck, mainly because I was the smallest out of Otis, Mouch and I. On the way to the fire, I kept my gaze trained ahead. I liked watching our surroundings pass us by. Suddenly, the truck jerked, and we began tipping over. The last thing I remember before blacking out was a wave of pain rolling through my entire body, and the sound of sirens.

Matt’s POV

“How’s every looking?” I ask my crew.

“Mouch has a pretty big cut on top of his eye. And Lieutenant, Y/N, she’s unconscious. It looks like she’s bleeding pretty bad,” Otis replied. I turned around to get a look at my younger sister, and when I saw her, my face paled. A decent sized pool of blood was puddling around his side, and she had a large cut on her forehead. As for the side of her body that was pressing against the floor, I couldn’t tell if she was hurt, but because of how much she was bleeding, I had to assume it wasn’t good.

“Hey!” Kelly shouted and scaled up the side of the truck. “Any injuries?”

“Mouch is bleeding,” I answer. “And Y/N-” I choked up on my words. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything.

“It’s going to be okay. Nobody touch Y/N. If she’s got a neck injury, I don’t want you guys jostling her. Lets get you guys out of here,” Kelly said. I groaned and climbed out through my shattered window, wincing as I moved my joints.

“Severide, you have to get Y/N out of there,” I plead. “Promise me you will.”

“Casey, protocall say’s we’ve got to save those likely to survive first,” Kelly explained.

“Are you serious? You’re always the one breaking the rules, and now when my sister is is danger, you want to follow them? Screw you!” I shout and climb over to the doorway leading down into the back of the truck.

“Casey, stop. Go and help Molina. I’ve got this. Mills! Capp! Get over here!” Kelly called out. Peter and Capp ran over to the truck, and Kelly looked down at them. “Y/N’s pinned in here pretty bad. I need you to get a neck collar and a board ready. We’re going to do a lift,” Kelly told them. Capp and Peter ran off to grab the supplies just as Chief Boden arrived.

“Take care of her, all right?” I ask.

“Yeah. Of course,” Kelly said as I climbed down from the truck to meet Boden.

“Is everyone okay?” Boden asked.

"Mouch’s eye is messed up. Dawson's taking him to Chicago Med. And Y/N is stuck at the bottom of our truck. She’s bleeding pretty bad, Chief, and I don’t know how long it’ll take to get her out,” I respond.

Boden cursed. “Cruz, what happened?”

“I don't know, Chief. They came out of nowhere,” Joe replied as Chief Tiberg appeared.

“Who had the light?” Chief Tiberg asked.

“We did,” Joe spoke confidently. "And if it wasn't green, then it was yellow. There's no way it was red.”

“You don't know what color it was?” Tiberg questioned.

“Cruz, did you see the light?” Boden asked.

“I must have. I know I did,” Joe confessed.

“Lieutenant, did you see the light? Tell me you saw the light,” Tiberg demanded.

“Sorry, sir. I didn’t see it,” I answer.

“Someone else had to have seen the light,” Tiberg insisted.

“Y/N did,” I admit.

“All right. Then lets speak to her,” Tiberg ordered.

“You can’t. She’s stuck in the truck still and uncons-” I cut myself off and took another deep breath, attempting to keep tears from making their way to the surface. Just then, I heard commotion coming from behind me, and when I turned around, I saw that Squad 3 had managed to get Y/N out of the truck. They were now loading her on a stretcher. “Y/N!” I shout and run to the gurney’s side, grabbing her hand in mine. I was now able to see Y/N’s injuries to their full extent, and it didn’t look good. Along with the cut on her head which I had already seen, there was a huge chunk of metal sticking out of her side. It looked like it came from the inside of the truck. Her arm was also broken, and I knew that because one of the bones in her lower arm was protruding from her skin. Y/N’s skin was also getting deathly pale, meaning she was losing too much blood. We had to get her to the hospital now. As soon as the paramedics loaded her gurney into the back of the ambulance, I climbed in with her, and then we sped off to Chicago Med.

Y/N’s POV

When I woke up, I felt groggy, and my whole left side hurt like hell. I opened my eyes, but closed them immediately after. It was very bright in here. Finally, I was able to open my eyes, and I squinted a bit to adjust my eyes to the lighting. That’s when I realized that I was in a hospital room, and I remembered the accident. I glanced down at myself, seeing my left arm in cast, and my left side was patched up. I could also feel some stitches on my forehead, meaning I was pretty banged up when I was brought in here. At that moment, Matt walked into the room, and he practically ran to my side.

“Hey. How are you feeling?” my brother asked me.

“Like shit,” I reply softly. “Everything hurts.” Matt laughed, but something about it seemed off. “Hey. What’s wrong?”

“The time it took us to get you out of the truck and how much you were bleeding, well, you should be dead. You crashed once on the way here, and once in surgery. I thought I lost you,” Matt explained and clutched my hand. I squeezed his hand as hard as I could, which wasn’t too hard considering I had just woken up from surgery.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere. Is everyone else okay?” I question.

“Mouch had a bad cut on top of his eye, but he should be fine. Everyone else got away with a few cuts and bruises. And Cruz, well, he was suspended,” Matt told me.

“What? Why?” I ask.

“He admits to the light being green, but he doesn’t remember that well, and I didn’t see it. So, Tiberg suspended him,” Matt said.

“I think you should get Tiberg and Boden down here. I’ll tell them what happened. I saw everything,” I murmur.

“Y/N, you should be resting,” Matt insisted.

“I can rest later. Right now, I need to tell the truth,” I say.

.......................................

“All right, Y/N. Tell us everything you saw,” Boden declared.

“Every time we get a call, I stare out the front windshield. It calms me down before we get to a fire, where sometimes, hell breaks loose. Anyways, yesterday, it was like any other call. I climbed into my seat, and I stared out the windshield like always. Just before the crash, when Joe was passing through the intersection, I saw the light. It was yellow, meaning it was our light. Molina was the run who ran through the light, not Joe Cruz,” I exclaim.

“We’ll definitely take that into consideration. Thank you,” Chief Tiberg informed me and left the room.

“Uh, the rest of the firehouse is in the waiting room. Do you want me to send them in?” Boden asked.

I smiled. “Yeah. Send ‘em in.” Seconds later, the rest of the firehouse swarmed into my room.

“Man, you look like hell,” Kelly told me.

“Please. Even though I look like shit, I look better than you do on your good days,” I counter, causing the whole room to laugh. “But thank you for saving me. I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you.”

“It was no big deal. Now, who’s got some playing cards? I think it’s time someone beat Y/N at poker,” Kelly spoke.

“So you think that because I’m injured I’m going to lose? Fat chance. Pass me those cards. Kelly, you’re on,” I say.

_________________________

Tag List:

@prettypyschoinpink @securityfriendly-jay @scarletsoldierrr @lorenakaspersen @virtualreader @carnationworld @caitsymichelle13 @campingmonkey @winterberryfox @anotherfan07 @giagma

#one chicago #chicago fire #matt casey #kelly severide #matt casey x reader #matt casey imagine #siblings #x reader #squad 3 #firehouse 51

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anagentinwriting · 3 years

Text

Lifeline - Part 2

Summary: (First Responders!AU) Moving to Los Angeles and living with your brother, Thor, was never part of your plan nor was being a 9-1-1 dispatcher, but plans change when you are faced with your own emergencies. In your case, it was leaving behind a relationship that wasn’t as perfect as it seemed. Will this be the fresh start you were hoping for or will your past find a way to catch up with you?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Odinson!Sister Reader

Word Count: ~2900

Warnings: Elevators, Angst

Lifeline Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Steve POV

“The 911 operator I was talking to had this great idea to use the hose to pull the little girl across the water to get her out of the pool,” Steve reminisced, sitting at the big island in the kitchen watching Sam cook.

“Dude, I was there, remember,” Sam replied. “And hasn’t it been like a week since that happened?”

“Yeah, but it was such a clever idea. I didn’t even know they could see the whole house on their monitors.”

“Who cares! It’s probably some fancy technology not available on the market yet, but if I'm hearing this correctly, it sounds like she popped Stevie’s dispatcher cherry,” Bucky joked behind him.

Steve peeked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Bucky. “My what cherry?”

“You know when you talk to a dispatcher on the phone while on scene. Danvers takes those calls most of the time, but every once in a blue moon, one of us takes it.” Bucky wiggled his eyebrows. “Who was the operator?”

“Um...YN.”

“Oh, my sister,” Thor announced in a deep voice, patting him on the shoulder and taking the stool next to him. “She is very intelligent.”

“Wait, you have a sister?” Steve asked, widening his eyes at him.

“I have two sisters, while one half-sister, but we don’t talk about her because she’s the worst,” Thor answered with pursed lips. “YN is the best though, I like to think she got the brains, I got the brawn, and well, I guess, that makes Loki the beaut of the family.” He nodded with a half shrug.

“Are we still talking about how Rogers popped his dispatcher cherry,” Carol smirked, walking into the kitchen with Valkyrie. Steve felt his face heat up as he tried to say something, but she held her hand up. “It’s okay! Everyone remembers their first time,” She winked, forcing him to shake his head.

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Steve held up his hands in surrender, trying to hide the blush on his face.

_____________

You swiveled back and forth in your chair, waiting for the next call to come in. You had a half-hour left of your twelve-hour shift, and you needed a girls' night out. Living with your brother and Darryl was both a blessing and a curse. They offered you a place to stay, rent-free when you first moved here, but the amount of testosterone in that house was sometimes too much for you to handle. You tapped your fingers on your desk when your line started ringing. You sat up, letting out a deep breath, and pressed the spacebar.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello,” a male voice replied.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m making a turkey and was wondering what the internal temperature has to be?”

“You do know it’s against the law to call with a fake emergency, right?”

“Yes, but this is an emergency.”

“No, it’s not, so get off my line.” You hung up the line, shaking your head. Right away, another call came through, and you answered it.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, hello. My friends are trapped in the elevator. The elevator must have snapped or something because there was this loud bang.”

“Where are you calling from?”

“The Natural History Museum. Please hurry!”

____________

Steve sat in his unassigned assigned spot at the dining table, eating a late lunch with the team. It was the cardinal rule at Station 107: Work as a team and eat as a family. Steve never thought he'd be able to find another firehouse he enjoyed working at, considering his previous teammates and friends at his old one. He hated leaving them behind, but he needed a fresh start, and so far, Station 107 was the best second home he could ask for.

Everyone brought something to the team as every firehouse did. Captain Danvers, or Ace as she preferred to be called in the field, brought her confidence and experience, which made for a great leader they could trust and rely on. Thor had his strength and his bravery, but he did have an ego. Sam was a great motivator and could keep everyone on task while still cracking jokes. It was no wonder Sam was the head EMT at this firehouse. Valkyrie was a badass and wasn’t afraid to put people in their place. As for Bucky, Steve knew he would always be there for him till the end of the line.

The loud alarm blaring throughout the firehouse pulled Steve out of his stupor. Everyone knew what that sound meant, and they were ready to tackle whatever it might be. One after another, they slid down the firepole, pulled on their gear, and hopped in the truck, heading towards the scene. It wasn’t unusual to take calls that didn’t involve fire because whoever could get there the fastest was better than no one showing up at all.

Thor hopped behind the driver's seat of the fire engine, pulling out of the garage. Carol sat beside him, giving him directions while speaking with the dispatcher through her headset. The sirens were wailing with Val and Sam behind them in the ambulance.

“Alright, boys. We got an elevator crash at the Natural History Museum,” Carol said into her helmet mic after speaking with dispatch. “Dispatch says three students and their pregnant teacher are inside.”

“What’s the plan, Ace?” Steve asked into his helmet mic, concealing the siren blaring in the background.

“I have contacted the museum's elevator technician, and he has already locked and tagged the power on the cars. The car sits near the basement level, so we will approach from the top in the lobby. I want Thor on the winch…”

“Ahh---what,” Thor interrupted her.

“Calm down, big guy, you can have the next one.” She gave him the side-eye, making the rest of the crew chuckle. “Steve and Bucky are going to do an immediate retrieval and approach from the top. Sam and Val will set a perimeter and then treat those who come up. Then, I will help with the retrieval, and Thor with the winch,” she stated with the last part dripping in sarcasm.

“It still hurts,” Thor added, taking a right at the intersection.

Once on-site, everyone grabbed their gear and took their positions. Steve and Bucky strapped on their harnesses and helmets, switching on the flashlight. They started scaling down the elevator shaft from the lobby as Thor lowered them on the winch with the retrieving rope.

“How we looking, Steve?”

“Sexy, but not like we are trying too hard, but it’s more kind of effortless.”

“Yeah, I mean, have you seen Steve’s ass in that harness. It could be American’s Ass or more like LA’s Finest Ass,” Sam commented with a whistle, echoing in the shaft.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Steve landed on the top of the elevator, unhooking himself while Bucky did the same. “I’m down and unattached.”

“That’s what she said,” Carol responded with her head appearing in the shaft.

Thor chuckled, shaking his head. “Classic.”

Steve rolled his eyes and used his other flashlight to find the hatch on top of the elevator. He unclipped the lock, opening the hatch door, seeing the top of the lights. “I’m Fireman Rogers, please move towards the buttons. I’m going to kick the light out, so we can get you out of there.” It took a few kicks, but once it fell through, a few faces peeked up at him. “How are we doing in there?”

“Oh my god, thank god, you’re here. I thought we were gonna die,” one of the kids replied, clutching his phone in his hand.

“Calm down, Flash. Everything is fine,” the pregnant woman reassured. “Right?” She looked up at Steve with worried filled eyes, and he nodded.

“Watch out, I'm coming down.” Steve crawled down into the hatch, and Bucky passed him the spare harness. “Ma’am, you’re going up first, but first we need to get you strapped into this harness, then we’ll pull you up.” She nodded, trusting him, and allowing him to put the harness on her before Thor used the winch to pull her up.

“Okay, boys, who's going to go next?”

“I’m next,” the one they called Flash stated.

“Okay, then, how about you with the cool hat.”

“Thanks, it gives me confidence,” the kid smiled.

“And then, you,” Steve pointed to the kid wearing a Midtown School of Science and Technology shirt.

“Um...yeah--” he nodded a little too much. “--Yeah...I can go last. Get everyone else to safety first.”

“Perfect.” Steve clapped his hands together. “Let’s do this.”

___________

It turned out to be a quick rescue, and no one suffered any major injuries. Steve took some gear out to the truck and started repacking it when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned around, noticing the kid in the Midtown School of Science and Technology shirt wrapped in an ambulance blanket.

“What can I do for you, kid?”

“Peter. Peter Parker. I’m...I’m Peter Parker.” He held out his hand, and Steve shook it. “I just wanted to say thank you...thank you for saving my teacher and my friends back there. We’re on our school trip from New York, and this was an adrenaline rush experience.” Peter held up his hand, and Steve noticed it shaking.

He chuckled. “It will wear off.”

“It felt like that opening scene of that old action movie. Where John Wick saves those people that were trapped in the elevator after the bad guy tried to blow them up with a bomb. They don’t catch him obviously because it’s the opening scene, but later he puts the bomb on the bus, and that Bird Box lady has to keep driving like fifty-five miles an hour, or the bus will blow up.”

“I know the one. I think you’re thinking of Speed, but I don’t think it’s that old.”

“Yeah, yeah, that one,” he chuckled, pointing his finger at him. “It’s kind of old, I mean you’re kind of old, so it’s kind of old to you, but to me, it’s kind of new because I’m not that old.” He rambled on, his eyes widening, realizing what he was saying.

“Peter, come on. The museum is going to show us some never before seen stuff because we almost died,” the kid with the cool hat shouted from across the street.

“Coming, Ned,” he yelled back. “Thanks again, Fireman Rogers, and sorry about calling you old. I didn’t...”

“It’s okay, kid, I’m just glad you’re safe.”

Steve watched Peter run back over to his friends with a smile on his face. It was these moments when he loved his job, watching friends and families reunite after a tragedy. It was these moments where he felt like it could almost fix what he lost.

______________

You sighed, taking a seat at your usual spot at the end of the bar in Happy’s Hydrant. Happy noticed you right away and smiled, giving you a bottle of beer. You thanked him with a nod, taking a sip, and scanning the crowd. It wasn’t unusual to spot a familiar face, considering this bar was created for the heroes of Los Angeles. It welcomed all those members who served or are currently serving as first responders, but civilians were welcome, too. It’s nice to have a place to go with people you could relate to and share similar experiences with after working a twelve or twenty-four-hour shift. They understand what we go through on a day to day basis. It was one of the many reasons Happy Hogan wanted to open this bar after he retired from his Fire Chief position at Station 12.

You swiveled back and forth on your bar stool until someone familiar on the other end of the bar caught your eye. You stopped moving, your eyes not wavering from the man. Your mouth went dry, hearing your heartbeat thumping in your ears. You gulped, feeling your palms start to tingle as the muscles in your legs start to tighten. Every nerve in your body was firing, telling you to run, but it felt like if you moved an inch, he would see you, and these past three months would’ve been for nothing. He glanced your way for a brief moment, and relief flooded your whole body. You relaxed, squeezing your eyes shut as you took a few deep breaths in and out. It wasn’t him.

The weight of someone touching your shoulder makes you jump off your bar stool, and turn around to see one of the ladies you were waiting for. “Hey, it’s only me.” Carol held up her hands in surrender, giving you a reassuring smile. “Sorry, I forgot how jumpy you can be.”

“It’s okay. Lost in my head again.” You nodded, returning to your barstool.

“Thanks for giving my transfer a chance to be the shining star of my squad last week.” She nudged your side, flagging down Happy for a drink.

“Your what...with what,” you asked, narrowing your eyes at her.

“The pool, the hose, the little girl stranded on a floaty with the water electrified. Ringing any bells?”

“Ohhh, right. That one.” You took a sip of your beer. “Fireman Rhodes or was it Ronin?”

“Rogers. Steve Rogers.” You pointed the neck of your beer bottle at her and nodded. “You made quite an impression on him. He can’t stop talking about it, and it’s getting really annoying, but I guess you did pop his dispatcher cherry.” She nudged your side with an ever-growing smile on her face. You rolled your eyes at her, shaking your head. “And if single you is interested, I am sure he is willing to mingle. At least, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

“I’m not ready to start dating. I’m still trying to find myself after going through a terrible six-year marriage.” You gave her a half shrug, eyeing the bar. “When I am ready to date again, all I want is a nice guy.”

“Steve’s nice. Hey, you should swing by one day before your shift and meet him,” she winked, and you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I haven’t even filed for divorce yet.”

“Wait--” she turned on her stool to face you “--hasn’t it been three months? Why not?”

“I don’t want him knowing where I am.”

“Doesn’t he know where Thor lives?”

“No,” you sighed, shaking your head. “Let's just say he didn’t take much interest in my life while we were together. Besides, I don’t think he'd think I’d go to Thor with how everything turned out the last time I went to him for help.

“What an asshole.” She rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her beer, and you nodded. “Well, at least you know you have an admirer,” she added, making you scoff.

“Hey ladies, sorry I’m late,” Natasha greeted, taking the other stool next to you. “Clint and I checked out this noise complaint a neighbor called in. And it turns out this guy was serenading his ex-girlfriend with hopes to win her back. It was this whole thing, and we wanted to stick around to see what happened next.”

“So what happened,” Carol asked with curious eyes, wearing a mischievous smirk on her face.

“It was crazy.” She shook her head, letting out a breathy chuckle. “She came down and punched him in the face. Apparently, this dude cheated on her with, wait for it--” she drummed her hands on the bar countertop “--her brother. It was a twist I didn’t see coming, but talk about drama on duty. Sometimes I think it would be easier fighting fires or answering phones all day.”

“Oh please, Nat, you wouldn’t last a day. You would miss seeing the excitement first hand. Over the phone, you don’t get much excitement,” you replied.

“Speak for yourself,” Carol added, taking a swig of her beer. “You would love my job, Nat. You get to boss men around.”

“I kind of do that already. Besides, I don’t think I could leave Clint. He’d be lost without me,” she smirked, signaling Happy to make her a martini.

Natasha oozed confidence, which came off as intimidating to most women. When she walked into a room, all eyes were on her, but it was attention she chose to ignore. When men would buy her drinks, she'd take it to another lovely lady. Nat was all about lifting and empowering women to feel confident in their own skin. She wasn’t afraid to tell people to back off or shut up. She was the role model you wish you had when you were with him, then maybe you would've had the confidence and courage to leave sooner.

“Here you are, Nat?” Happy pushed the martini glass to her. “Are you ladies still good?�� He asked, pointing to the drinks in front of you.

“Yeah, we’re good. Thanks, Happy,” you smiled at him as he walked away, shooting you a thumbs up.

“How is apartment hunting going, YN?” Nat asked, taking a sip of her martini.

“Good, I found this cute little condo a few blocks away from work. It has a modern feel to it, but I think it would be perfect for me,” you described. “I loved it when I saw the pictures. The landlord is out of town right now, but she told me it’s mine if I want it.”

“I’m so excited for you,” Nat squealed, squeezing your forearm. “You need to get out of that testosterone-filled house and get on your own two feet again.”

“Yes, you do,” Carol agreed. “What’s your softie older brother going to think of you leaving?”

“I’m going to have to break it to him slowly.”

__________

AN: Thanks for reading part 2! I hope you all are liking it so far! If you caught it there was a quote from Brooklyn 99 that I thought was too good not to put in! 😂 Also, Darryl Jacobson, if you don't remember him, he was Thor's roommate in those Marvel shorts. I thought he would be a fun and entertaining addition to this story! Also, any ideas as to why Steve left his old firehouse? Did you enjoy the little Peter Parker cameo? And what do you think Thor is going to think of her moving it? Comments always welcome, thanks again for reading!

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writingsbychlo · 3 years

Text

smoke and fire (02)

word count; 10,121

summary; after getting out to a rough call with newt, resulting in some unpleasant injuries, thomas jumps to a few conclusions.

notes; i don’t have anything to say here.

warnings; reference to violence, reference to gang activity, reference to injury.

“Can I have a cookie?” You motioned to the plate before you, and Fry never looked up from where he was working, nodding his head as he danced to the music in the kitchen, singing loudly to the song on the radio as he prepared everyone a lunch.

Picking up one of the biscuits, you smiled to yourself, before a hand was slapping on yours roughly, the biscuit falling to the floor, and you yelped, rubbing at the stinging skin of your hand as you looked up.

“Hey!” Brenda was cringing a little, seemingly feeling bad for her action, and you stared at the broken biscuit at your feet, before looking back to her. “What was that for?”

“They’re not real Oreos.” Your brows furrowed, looking at the pile once again as you picked up the abandoned one from the floor, walking around her to dump it in the bin, and she shrugged a little. “I filled them with toothpaste, to mess with Chuck. He always wants a snack after he finishes the chores, and Gally has him cleaning the bathroom.”

“So, why does he get messed up Oreos for that?” You questioned, following her to the couch as she grabbed her coffee and wandered away, and you settled in beside her.

“Because every candidate that comes through this house has to be pranked by everyone, it’s tradition. He won’t graduate until he has.”

You grinned, shaking your head fondly at those antics. “Okay, so what has everyone else done so far?”

A wicked look passed over her face, the room crowding with people and it seemed that everybody as gathering discreetly, seeming to know that there was going to be a prank going down. “Gally and Newt teamed up, they had Gally pretend to fall on a wet floor that he didn’t put a sign out on, and Newt faked the injury to be worse than it was. Poor kid freaked out.”

“Oh, that’s awful.” You bit at the inside of your cheek, trying to contain your laughter, and she shrugged.

“Thomas got a bag of dark brown dog hair from the groomers and tipped it over the shower door while Chuck was showering, he thought he was losing his hair, and he smelt like wet dog for days. He screamed like a little girl.” You laughed loudly at that one, unable to contain it, even if it was done by someone you hated because there was no denying that it was creative as hell. “Minho put slime in his locker, Frypan put bubble wrap in his boots right before a call, and he was popping with every step, hilarious. I don’t remember the rest.”

She waved a hand, sipping her coffee, and the room went quiet as an exhausted-looking Chuck entered the room, red cheeks from the exertion and sweating a little. The room went quiet, everybody’s gaze falling to Chuck discreetly as he crossed the room, and Fry kept singing.

“Oh, cool, Oreos. Can I have one?”

“Sure, kiddo.” Brenda piped up, and Chuck beamed, picking one up, bringing it t his mouth, before pulling it away, squinting slightly and frowning, and every breath in the room was held. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re kinda’ soft. Do you not know how to sore cookies?” He waited, before a smirk spread over his face. “Are these old? Like, really old? This is a prank, isn’t it?”

Her jaw dropped, and speechless for a moment as she fumbled for an excuse, and you cleared your throat. “They’re all good, I just had one. Probably just the steam from the kitchen.”

“Oh, okay.” He took you at your word, placing the whole cookie into his mouth and biting down, perfectly content for a moment, a few chews in, before his face was screwing up, and he was gagging, spitting the handful back out. “God damn it!”

The room broke out on raucous laughter, almost deafeningly so, and Brenda held her hand up to you, offering a high five for your contribution to the prank, coffee almost slopping over the edge of her mug form the ferocity with which she was cracking up in amusement.

“You all suck!” He spun around, fake anger in his tone as he grinned, pointing at you. “Especially you! I expected more!”

That only made everyone crack up a little more, and while it was still funny, it made you realise that he hadn't expected it form you, because you weren’t a real part of the team yet. You were still an outsider, you weren’t one who was expected to make pranks and join in with team activities, and your laughter dulled a tad. You weren’t angry or bitter about it, just a little disappointed at the flicker you found burning in your chest as you realised Newt had given you hope, and inspiration, his speech from only a week ago still tinging clearly in your mind, and you didn’t like that feeling, because getting connected to a team only made it that much harder when you were inevitably rejected.

He shook his hand off over the trash, a scowl on his face at the half-chewed snack that was scraped away, and Thomas came over, a smile larger than you’d ever seen him wear before, to lock his arm around the younger boy’s neck affectionately, knuckles ruffling his hair as he squirmed.

“Hey, Chuck, keep up this kind of morale and you’ll do great on squad.”

“Maybe he’ll choose to stay with truck!” Gally voiced, the room splitting wit amusement once again as an easy and lighthearted argument broke out, all in joked, about which team was better. Feeling a nudge on your thigh, you looked back to the woman facing you, her brows raised a little, sipping at her drink once again.

“What’s with the look on your face?”

“What do you mean?” You shifted to face her more fully, the crowds dissipating now the excitement was over, all going about their determined tasks, and she shrugged a little.

“You just have this look on your face. Like you’re happy but sad, nostalgic but bittersweet. You get it sometimes, when you’re looking at us all.” You sighed, not realising she was able to read you so well she was just like Newt, smart and intuitive, and you nibbled on your lower lip as you thought about your next words.

“It’s just nice to see you all like this. Happy and confident with each other, you’re a family.” You looked around, finding Newt, his attention focused on a conversation with Minho, and you remembered what he said, sighing a little as your mind was spinning and confused. “Maybe one day I’ll be part of that too, y’know?”

“You’re already a part of this family! You got a shirt with the logo on and everything.” You rolled your eyes at her joke, lips twisted into a gentle smile.

“No, I’m not.” She looked like she wanted or argue, but the look on your face silenced her, clearly not finished speaking. “I haven’t earned my way into this family, you don’t really know me, you don’t know if you want to welcome me yet. I’ll know when I am, if I deserve to be, I’ll know it.”

“You know, that's kind of poetic.” You scoffed at her claim, punching at her arm softly. “I think you’ll fit in perfectly, when that moment comes.”

You grinned, jaw dropping to thank her for her faith in you, before the alarm overhead was going off, and you were silenced, the room flailing to the same state, as you listened for what was happening. Only ambulance was called for, everybody else seeming t let out a sigh of relief, except for your friend across the room, who groaned loudly, before his chair was scraping across the floor as he stood.

“Up and at it, girly, let’s go!” He clapped his hands, and you struggled to unfold your legs to match his pace, his long strides already taking him to the door as you fumbled to follow him, his next words thrown over his shoulder; “I’ll start driving away without you if you don’t hurry up!”

“I’m coming, just wait!” You yelled, pushing through the doors as you grabbed your jacket, pulling the lightweight blue material up your arms, spinning around from backing out backwards, and crashing right into a solid wall. You groaned, stumbling a little, before a sneer was thrown in your direction.

“Watch where you’re going, would you?” The words were growled out lowly, Thomas stepping around you to continue on without waiting, and you huffed at his actions.

“It was clearly an accident!” He didn’t react, continuing to walk away from you, and your eyes were rolling before you could stop yourself. “Oh, get over yourself.”

He still didn’t reply, head held high, and that only irritated you more, as though you weren’t even worth his time, continuing towards the vehicle, engine already running from the second that your door slammed shut, Newt was putting the van into action. Strapping yourself in as he spun out of the firehouse courtyard.

Grabbing the monitor in front of you, the device was pinging with notifications, reading off every update that was coming in from the public and the police about what it was that the two of you were about to head into. It was a mess, you could tell straight from the off as reports continued to come in about what you were facing, skipping through it all to find details on what was actually calling you to the scene.

“Okay, we got a stab wound, it seems. A street fight, started between two guys, friends got involved, pedestrians got involved.”

“Probably some kind of gang activity.” Newt sighed, already seeming to prepare himself for the situation, and you weren’t unfamiliar with that kind of groups around this area, the rougher the neighbourhood got, the more vicious the groups became, and it certainly wasn’t a surprise as you began to pull through the harder-going roads.

There were blue lights flashing through the air before you’d even pulled up, crowds in the street, and Newt hit the brakes as he avoided hitting anybody, fighting to get through the scene. “What the fuck?”

The streets were blocked, you couldn’t even see the centre of the commotion yet, and a set of police officers came fighting through the crowds to find you. “I guess the fight spilled into the street, and cars got blocked.”

The second your window was rolled down, the noise became unimaginably high, screaming and shouting, the sirens of the cars going off and megaphones over the commotion as the police tried to break it all up. “There’s no way you’re getting through here, we can clear you a pathway, but it’ll take a few minutes, and I wouldn't recommend leaving your van in this area.”

You turned to look at Newt, his brow raising as you tried to work out what to do. Spinning your gaze back out across the crowds, you assessed the situation, barely even able to see the centre, and nobody was parting for the cars to get through, trying to create a pathway to get to the centre. The stabbing victim was undoubtedly going to be going to the hospital, and was likely going to be too injured to fight back through the crowds, and so the likelihood and needing the stretcher was raised high.

“You stay with the truck, I’ll go and do an initial assessment, drive up and meet me.”

“There is no way I’m letting you out alone in that. You’ll never make it out.” You huffed, but your lips flicked up a little at the edges form his concern, unbuckling yourself from your seat and edging yourself through the centre console to the back of the vehicle. “Come and sit back down, right now!”

“Someone’s gotta’ go out there, Newt, or we’re going to be answering questions on why we let someone die of a stab wound.” Lifting your bag onto your shoulder, you secured both straps over your arms, tight enough not to fall, and unlocking the back doors from the inside. “I’m already up now, you wanna’ stop me, you’ll have to catch me first.”

Hopping out and into the edges of the crowds you’d pulled up to, you made sure the latch was on, that the doors couldn't be opened unless it was by Newt himself, slamming them closed, and rounding the vehicle find the police officer who’d come to talk to you both in the first place. The blond was glaring at you from the driver's seat, shaking his head at your actions, even though you both knew it was the only way, and somebody’s life was on the line.

The crowds weren’t all that tough to get through at first, following the man in front of you, but as the crowds got rougher and the shouting got louder, you lost sight of him, trying to pick out the colour of his shirt or the hat atop his head, but it was impossible. Jostled from side to side, it got harder to fight your way through the hoards, and you were beginning to use your elbows to nudge people out of the way, fighting your way through.

An elbow, maybe a fist, you weren’t sure, but something solid collided with your side, a grunt leaving you as pain flared up, and you clamped your own arm down over the spot, pushing through the people. It was the first of many, your jaw clenches to deal with it as more spots across your body sparked with patches that would become dull aches in hours, the rioting growing stronger and more intense as the circle of people around you became a more personal addition to the aggressions. You’d have bruises on your shoulders later in the day, the abuse they were receiving as you tried to push through, one hand covering your face, and just like that, you were finding the eye of the storm, the battering you’d been receiving coming to a halt as you broke into the middle.

There was a man on the floor, everybody else being held back by police officers around the small scene, and you swallowed thickly, the barriers looking like they would break at any moment. You couldn't tell who was who, which of the men gathered here were friends of the man, and which ones wanted to kill him, and you were sure that the man who’d down the stabbing was probably in the crowds watching.

Kneeling beside him, you took in the scene, grimacing a little as your knee became sticky, the fabric covering it sticking to your skin with a growing stain as the pool of blood the man had released began to soak into your trousers. “Hi there, I’m a paramedic, and I need you to let me look, okay?”

His head turned to you, a snake on his lips, spitting blood at the ground by your body, and you sighed. Not a surprise, the gangs didn’t often take kindly to groups like firemen and the police, or the paramedics, being that they were mostly going against the law and the public interest, their own form of rebellion, and you did not serve those interests well.

“Alright, listen, you have two choices here.” He huffed, rolling his eyes as his head lay back against the concrete, blood seeping between his fingers from the wound as he coughed and your timer seemed to kick up a notch. “The police are holding these guys back, but I bet you can see at least one person out there who doesn’t want you to get better, am I right? Now, you’ve removed the knife, so you’re bleeding out, and nothing is stopping that, your hands aren’t even in the right place for putting pressure one it. So, either you get your hands out of the way and let me look, or you hope that you bleed to death before that wall breaks and someone comes to finish you off. Which is it going to be?”

He groaned, his body jerking and a cry leaving his lips as his hands fell away, and you nodded your head, a pair of rubber gloves being pulled onto your hands, trying to take a look. It was bleeding far too quickly for you to get any idea about what was happening, thick and dark blood, not the best sign, and you dragged a finger along his skin gently until you found the tear, the shrill cry he made signalling your location, and you measured it as best you could with your finger.

“Well, the good news is, your wound is only about a half-inch across, and it feels pretty clean, there’s no tearing. Smaller knife, huh?”

“Didn’t feel like such a small knife when I was being fucking stabbed.” He hissed, your brow raising, and you let out a light laugh.

“Oh, deadman’s got jokes, huh? That’s good, you’re holding on. for now.”

“If I’m a deadman, then you’re not very good at your job, are you?” His words were wheezed out, and you grinned, lifting his hand to place over the right place, pushing down on it roughly, and he cursed you in another language under his breath, gurgling a little as he did but holding the pressure.

“Oh, don’t you worry, I’ll have you fixed up real quick. You’re going to have to go to the hospital, but I’ll keep you alive ‘til then.” Slipping your bag down your arms, you opened it up, the first set you opened being a leather foldout of tools, unwrapping the knot and letting it fall open, filled with different instruments. With fingers hovering over them, bloody digits picking up a pair of scissors. Lining them up at the edge of his shirt, you looked back up to him, noting the way his eyes were rolling a little. “Hope you weren’t too attached to this shirt, because it’s not going to make it.”

He only grumbled, his hand barely flinching when you lifted it to place on the ground, and the speed at which blood was bubbling up from the gash across his flesh was slowing down, concerningly so. Cutting away his shirt, tanned skin was smeared with drying blood, a frown on your lips, and you hummed to yourself under your breath.

“You still with me there?”

He groaned again, and you hurried your work as much as you could. Grabbing at a handful of bandaging, you left it scattered across your lap, the first package being torn open and beginning to wipe up the blood that was seeping from his injury the rags becoming soaked as you worked, and as you cleared at the darker blood staining his skin, you began to reach the fresh red, lesser as you want, his skin paling around the sever in his flesh. Picking up his wrist, the veins were fading, no longer visible directly under the skin, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth as panic set in.

“Hey, c’mon, now. I need you to hold on for me, alright?” He twitched a finger, the hand laying on the concrete became a fist, and you picked up an antibacterial wipe, fingers shaking a little as you tried to open the packet, and it felt like the screaming around you was getting louder, everything going into overdrive. “Look, my partner will be here in one second, and we’ll get you on the stretcher, and get you to the hospital, okay?”

“Okay.” His words were raspy, laboured through the liquid building in his throat as he tried to speak, but you were relieved to hear anything at all.

“This is going to hurt, alright?” He didn’t respond to that, but he made what you assumed was supposed to be a scream as you wiped over the cut, apologising quietly as he thrashed with what energy he had left, and the movements caused a surge more blood to spew from the wound. Looking up, you found the front of the white van, your ambulance number printed in dark blue lettering across the front, a relieved sigh making itself known from your throat as the driver’s seat was empty, and Newt would be here in a moment. “Alright, we’re going to get you on a stretcher now, alright?”

“‘Bout time.”

You laughed breathily, his head twisting toward you, and a pang of guilt shot through you as you really took a moment to observe him. He couldn't be any older than fifteen, he was still just a kid, and you tried to suppress the nausea that was twisting in your gut at the idea of a kid dying on your watch. “When we do, we’re going to roll you onto your side, just for a split second. When we do, I want you to cough. Hard as you can. It’ll hurt, but we can get some blood out of your throat. Can you do that?”

His hand twitched again, wet breaths as he loved the fist to sit on its side thumb raising weakly to conform he understood in what was the most pitiful and depressing use of a ‘thumbs up’ that you had ever seen. Using one hand to put pressure on the wound, you tried to pack up your kit with the other, cries leaving him as he finally let his youth show through, not enough strength to hide it anymore and clean tears were being left along the dirt and blood on his cheeks from the tears that were rolling free, gasping for breath as he struggled to even breathe.

The shouting took up again, loudly, a sudden combustion of violent and terrified screams, you twisted your head to glance over your shoulder, catching a flash of movement, before a solid hand landed on your shoulder and you were being torn backwards, a yelp on your lips. You were steady, for only a moment, legs flexing underneath you s you were partially lifted from the flood in the grip, before you were landing on your side, your arm crossed under you and the bruised side of your ribs was battered even more, a pained scream, before it was cut off as the side of your head hit the ground to follow.

Your ears were ringing, head pounding from the collision with the pavement and eyes a little blurry as you watched the man who’d dashed forward be tackled by two sides of blue, pinned to the floor by officers as the crowd roared in a combination of thrilled and angered hollers. You groaned, every muscle in your body feeling weak for a moment, and your eyes watered at the burn along your side increased tenfold, now a throbbing agony.

A gentler hand now, rolling you over, and you blinked up at whoever it was, managing to decipher Newt as your vision cleared. His mouth was moving, and you could somewhat understand him, your hands finding the floor again as you pushed yourself to sit up, his hand smoothing around to your back as he helped you.

“Newt, get the kid.”

“Are you okay?” He persisted, the stretcher long abandoned, and you nodded your head, despite the pain it caused.

“It’s a kid, Newt! Get the kid, I’ll be fine.” He didn’t look so convinced, shaking his head a little, before you were pushing him away, taking a moment to catch your breath as it had been forced from your lungs, and he did as told. You heard the cough, and the velcro-sounds of the neck brace being put on him, the young boy groaning as he was moved, and you decided that if he still had the energy, then you did too.

Making a fist, you braced yourself for support, pushing up from the ground and staggering to your feet, feeling a little weak as the pain travelled your body, but you could handle it, and as the kid was adjusted on the strong yellow blackboard for the stretcher, you made your way to the other side. Taking a hold of one handle, and Newt stared up at you. His jaw dropped to argue, a slight shake of your head silencing him, and he frowned again.

“You ready?”

“Are you?” He retorted, and you locked your hands over the other handle, watching as he mirrored your stance, bent at the knees and ready to halt him up onto the trolley.

“Lift on three, alright?” He did the count down, and you bit on your tongue to keep your complaints and pain to yourself, lifting the board with the boy up and securing it onto the folding trolley, trying not to jerk him too much as you strapped him down.

“You know, it’s going to be worse getting out then it was getting in. Lotta’ them don’t want him to leave.”

You had already braced yourself for that, the back of the ambulance only ten metres away, and you had to reach it, strap him in, and get the doors closed, before you were safe and could get to the hospital. Pushing the vehicle along together, you were grabbed at, ducking fists and avoiding kicks as you struggled through. Newt moved first, unlocking the back of the van and rolling down the ramp again, grabbing the front of the truck while you pushed from the back, pulling him up until the wheels locked into their place.

He moved to the front, the engine starting up as you retrieved the ramp and pulled the doors closed, watching as hands were snapped out of the way when you showed no regards for trapping or breaking fingers. The second they were shut, you locked them, jerking a little and trying to catch yourself as the van went into motion.

Leaning over the boy before you, a hand on the top of the vehicle to hold yourself steady, you let out a relieved breath as he blinked, eyes turning to look at you. Your first move was getting a heart rate band on his arm pushing up his sleeve as the shredded material of his shirt hung open, and he didn’t even move as the cuff was placed around his upper arm, squeezing tightly. The machine above you clicked into life as it gained date, a steady and alarmingly relaxed heart rate ringing out, and you were determined to do something about that. Lifting down an oxygen mask and twisting the tank on, you lifted his head, securing the band around his skull and ignoring the throbbing within your own as the mask settled over his mouth.

Now, you could move to the wound. Barely patched up, the quickest job either of you could do in the middle of the riot, you had time to focus now, trying to hold yourself steady as your body trembled angrily and the vehicle swung around corners, sirens blaring as you rushed to the hospital. “Jeez, Newt, can you hold us steady?”

“Sorry! I’m trying!”

You only huffed, meeting his eye in the mirror as he looked back to you, a slight twinkle in them despite it all, raised at the edges to show a smile you couldn't see. Focusing back on the injured kid before you, the wrapping on his stomach was carefully removed, the bleeding somewhat under control, but you were putting that down to a worrying amount of blood loss, his sin going pale, eyelid drooping as he barely clung to consciousness, and you began to try and keep it as well closed as you possibly could while you approached where he could get real care.

Plastic stitches, strong enough to attach to either side of the wound and pull it shit, sticky and resilient on the hold, and they sealed it up enough to stop the copious amounts of blood that had been coming through, narrowing it down to small beads. Grabbing for a larger, cleaner patch of gauze to cover the injury, for now, you doused it with an antibacterial, the product being just wet enough to soak into his wound, before pressing it over his cut and sealing down to his skin, the paper tape fastened it and you let out a sigh of relief.

His heart rate was stabilising, it wasn’t ideal but he was at least reaching a level he could hold, and you slumped down into the seat as you felt newt begin to slow down, picking up the radio on his dashboard to call it in as the roads narrowed and became a little more calm, approaching the hospital. Newt was talking in the front, reciting everything that he could about the boy’s injury, and he wasn’t in much of a state to tell you much about his blood type or allergies right now.

A hand reached out, locking onto your wrist, and your eyes snapped up to find the young boy, his head rolled to the side to look at you, it was a weak grip, a somewhat distant look in his eyes, and you shook your head as you watched him reach up to try and remove the mask. Doing it for him, you removed it carefully, placing it over his chin, and he coughed a little with the sudden change in air consistencies, but it was a healthier and dryer sounding cough than it had been.

“Thank you.” You barely caught the words, your brows furrowing as you took a minute to decipher what he’d said, still not believing it when you worked it out, but the earnest look in his eyes said it all. Brushing some of the sweat and grime matted hair back out of his face, you sighed, placing the mask back over his mouth gently, and trying to offer him the most reassuring smile you could.

“You gotta’ get out of this lifestyle, kid. You’re young enough to change everything, still. You could still get good grades, go to college, do something great.” He stared at you, confusing flittering through dull eyes as you spoke. “You don’t have to still be doing this in ten years, you can stop.”

He shook his head, looking as though he attempted to speak again, and you didn’t allow it, knowing he needed to just rest for the final few moments.

“I know you feel like there’s no way out, and that the other boys in the gang are your family. You need a healthy family, a supportive family, not a family who let you get stabbed. I know a thing or two about taking any family you can get, but you have to find the right one, okay?”

He didn’t respond for a moment, looking away from you, and you were certain that you’d hit a brick wall, but his hand slipped down from your wrist to your own, squeezing tightly as he nodded his head, eyes sliding closed, and you could feel Newt’s gaze flicking back and forth to you as he pulled up to the front of the hospital, clearly having heard your words, but you never looked at him, keeping your eyes on the kid whose life you were saving.

The second that the vehicle stopped, you were out of it, like a flash, unlocking the doors and unrolling the ramp, freeing the stretcher wheels from their locks. Uncuffing the band on his arm and oxygen mask from around his head, it was left to dangle uselessly, cleaned for later so that you could roll him into the hospital. Two nurses met you at the door, taking the stretcher and walking him away, letting you spew off any extra facts you could think of, his eyes sticking to yours for a final moment, before he was disappearing behind a curtain that was dragging shut, and you could finally feel yourself breathe easy again as he fell into expert hands.

You let out a long sigh, turning to face Newt, who was in much the same position as you were; a little battered and bruised, totally frazzled, and in desperate need of a rest now.

“You ready to go?”

“Not ‘til you get checked out yourself.” He motioned a hand along your body, and you looked down at yourself, arms crossing defensively over your chest. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re going to say something like ‘they’re only bruises, Newt’ or ‘it’s not that big of a deal’, well, maybe they are and maybe it’s not, but we’re not leaving until you get it checked. I have this worry you, like, broke a rib, or something.”

You gaped at him, hating how well he knew you, and he smirked as he stared back, raising a challenging brow and crossing his own arms, completing the stare down, the battle of wills, that you were both having. He was just as stubborn as you were, unwilling to back down, and you gave in, rolling your eyes as your shoulders slumped. “Fine, I’ll get my ribs checked, but only if you get that ankle checked.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me ank-”

“So, you didn't get kicked in your bag leg while loading the ambulance? And, you haven’t been favouring the other since we left?” He scowled, throwing an arm over your shoulders and letting the slight limp show as the two of you walked over to the nurses’ desk.

“I don’t like how you turned that one me.”

“What are friends for, huh?” He turned to you, leaning against the counter as you aired for assistance, and he beamed.

“Oh, so you admit that we’re friends, now? You know, that’s one step closer to wanting to stay.” There were more words on his tongue, you could practically already hear them, something about a ‘family’ no doubt, a joke about the conversation he’d overheard between you and the patient, but he was interrupted before he could get the chance. A nurse he knew, sweet eyes and a name tag with ‘Allison’ written on, and she guided you both to separate beds, only a curtain to separate you, and yet as you rested against the cushions, you already felt like you could fall asleep right there, relieved just to get off of your feet.

Your head was hanging, eyes slipping shut a little, and you startled when the curtain was dragged back open, the metal hooks scraping over the bar holding it up, and you jumped, looking up at the doctor before you. Dark hair, tanned skin, and a sweet smile on his lips as he held his hand out to you to shake. His name followed, introducing himself as a ‘Doctor McCall’, and he pulled up a chair, the wheels rolling over the floor as he took a seat before you to let you explain what happened.

Undoing the buttons on your shirt, he shook his head with a bashful smile and a falsely judgemental eyes as he took in the extent of the damage, and as you looked down at the dark purple bruising beginning to spread over your skin, and the swelling taking lace, you realised you may have underestimated the damage. Perhaps it was a good thing to have Newt looking out for you. You weren’t used to that.

He pressed along your skin gently, the rubber gloves on his hands cold and making your twitch, silence going by for a few seconds as he tested your breathing, listened into your chest, and watched you raised and move your arms, trying to be honest about your pain when he asked, and when it flared up.

He decided you didn't have a broken rib, a diagnosis you were grateful for, because the longer it took, the more it felt like Newt may actually have been right. It was simply bad swelling, a collection that would take at least two weeks to start truly dying down, but you were cleared for duty as long as you tried to take it easy. He cleaned the cut along your hairline, paper stitches standing out in a stark contrast to your skin that you soon covered with your hair, and with a few painkillers in you and a schedule for more, as well as a prescription for some bruise cream, you were sent on your way.

Newt was already waiting, staring disdainfully at the contraption on his foot, and regardless of the pain it caused, you laughed loudly as he turned the glare and scowl on you. “I have to wear this bloody thing for a week, thanks to you!”

“I think you look stylish.” You teased, and he scoffed.

“It’s annoying already, and it makes my foot itch. I hate it.” You only rolled your eyes, but even at the awkward steps he was taking with the pressure-holding and padded velcro boot he wore, he was no longer limping, and that was a good thing.

“You know, I’m going to have to drive. You’ll press all the pedals at once with that thing on.” He looked like he wanted to argue, but could clearly tell you were right, and his shoulders slumped even further as you held out your hand, watching him fish through his pockets to find the keys, and handing them over reluctantly.

The ride back to the station was filled with music and quiet chatter, you telling Newt all about this kid and his sense of humour, and the great thing you thought he could one day do, and he was happy to listen, telling you about some of the other patients he'd worked on himself, as the current chart-toppers played quietly in the background, keeping your moods high and upbeat.

You couldn't deny that it was nice, to have someone to consider a friend, someone you could rely on, and with every case you worked - today’s in particular - you were finding yourself trusting Newt more and more. He was someone who made you laugh, he had a sharp sense of humour but gave you the harsh truths you needed, even when you didn’t want to hear them, and yet he still cared about you, that much was clear, and you were finding yourself starting to care about him, too.

You both groaned as you pulled into the driveway, watching the delivery truck for pharmaceutical supplies arrive, and it wasn’t a lot of boxes, but you still had paperwork and the cleaning of the truck to do, as well as unpack all the new supplies into the station medical kits and the van, and you stared at one another for a second. He offered his hands in a battle of ‘rock, paper, scissors’ for it, and yet you knew he wouldn't be able to handle it.

“You go inside, and put some ice on your ankle. Do all the paperwork, and I’ll sort the supplies and the van out.”

“Yeah?” He perked up a little at the offer, sitting up in his seat as you parked the van properly and handed him his keys back, both of you hopping out of the car, and walking around together to the front of the vehicle.

“Yes, I’ll go sign for everything and get them to bring it inside, you go find ice.”

He grinned, ruffling your hair with one hand, and you sighed, rolling your head from side to side to loosen the knots forming, before heading over to where the delivery man was waiting. As he began unloading the boxes inside of the garage doors, you checked over the list, ticking off in your head everything that had been gathered, and what they hadn't been able to get a hold of, signing your name at the bottom of several pieces of paper, and handing it back to him. He tipped his cap at you, a sweet older man that always made you laugh, and you waved him off as he left, hands falling to your hips as you stared at the boxes.

You were left with your thoughts, trying to come up with a game plan, and your body was desperately screaming out for a shower, when a loud shout of your name echoed around the bay, loud enough that you’d have been able to hear it from the other end of the station, your head snapping up.

Thomas was staring at you, pure fire in his eyes, that made you gulp, and he stormed toward you with determination, stopping a few feet away. “What the fuck is that?”

“Uh, supplies?”

“Not the fucking boxes, the boot on Newt’s leg.” He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, and everyone in the room who had been working on the trucks and the tables around fell quiet, the silence so tense you swore you’d be able to hear a pin drop. “He has a bad leg, you already knew that, and yet you let him get injured. What kind of fucking partner are you?”

“That’s not fair! We-”

“That’s not fair? No, what’s not fair is knowing that Newt has done everything he can to make you feel welcome here, to try and drag you kicking and screaming into a house you don’t want to be in, and at which you're not wanted, and this is how you repay him?” That stung, your jaw snapping shut as you swallowed thickly, eyes flicking over the other people who had all gone stock still, hoping if they just observed and didn’t get noticed, they wouldn't fall victim to Thomas’ sudden wrath too.

You got it, you truly did. Thomas and Newt were the best of friends, ever since they were kids. Newt had told you the story of how they'd practically been ‘friends since the sandbox’, and you did feel awful for what happened to him, but it wasn't your fault.

“You want to be a part of this team? You want to make it here? Then you need to start acting like a member of a team, and start looking out for people other than yourself.”

He stormed away, spinning on his heel, and your nails were digging into your palms from how tightly your fists were clenched. You weren’t going to make a scene, or breakdown and give him the satisfaction. Instead, you held your head high, making your way to the showers to be alone with your thoughts and wash up, to try and soothe the aching pains along your body, and the aching pain in your chest from his harsh words.

Turning on the hot water, your eyes squeezed shut, letting out a long and shaky breath as you tried to let go of your emotions. You were trembling slightly, unsure whether it was from the way you’d been spoken to, the events of the day, or simply the pain in your body, but dipping your head under the water, you breathed out happily at the hot water beating down against you.

You were tense, muscles stiff and joints practically locked as you tried to relax, and you could have dozed off from the very second that your eyes closed. It was a struggle to simply find the motivation to wash yourself off, water dripping from the tip of your nose and your shin as you looked down, eyelashes feeling heavy and clumpy as you stared at your feet, a tint to the water as the dirt often day washed off.

There was a cut on your knee, brushing along your thigh and your knuckles were torn from your collision with the ground, but luckily, they were all small cuts that would heal very quickly. The bruises would take longer, your side littered with them now, one big bruise that was stretching from your hips to under your arms, fanning around your stomach and as far as your bak in all different shades of splotchy severity.

It hurt to lift your arms and wash your hair, and it hurt even more to scrub your body, stretching muscles gourd and cleaning at the skin. When you finally got out, trying to rub some simple cream into you face and comb your hair, the edge of your t-shirt held between your teeth to keep it up as you stared at the markings in the mirror, a patch wiped in the steam on the glass to be able to see, a tube of cream from your personal medkit open in your hand, and you weren’t sure you even had enough left to cover a patch this large.

You gave it your best go, starting in the middle where it hurt the most and working out toward the edges, eyes lined with tears as your fingers pressed to the skin, rubbing the cream until it was warm and could distribute more evenly across your skin, pain flaring up with each patch you touched. It felt as though it was on fire, even as you lowered your shirt. That pain took a while to rescind, you had pulled on your boots and tied back what you could of the still slightly damp hair, knowing that you’d never be able to hold up a hairdryer long enough to get it dry anyway.

The speakers overhead chirped twice, a melody that was different to the alarm that asked you to go to call, but this one was something that always brought joy, telling you that it was time for you to go home. The end of the day, the next shift coming in, your team leaving as House ‘21’s Team Two came in to take over. You grabbed your hoodie from your locker, no longer needing to look as professional, but knowing that you still weren’t going home anytime soon, you needed to at least be wrapped up warm.

You still had supplies to unpack, and a van to clean, blood dripped on the floor and equipment to be sterilised, and as you left the locker room, you swung by the cleaning cupboard, a bucket of supplies under your arm as you went. A lot of your team were still hanging around as you exited, getting ready to leave as the first of the other team began to trickle in, making sure there were always enough people left here to hand over in case there was a poorly timed call.

The fire teams had it reasonably lucky, each team shared the same squad or truck vehicles, but the ambulances were separate, and so you’d only loathe yourself if you didn’t do it now, and had to come in early before your next shift to sort it.

Unlocking the back doors, you opened it up, unfolding the ramp and lifting each individual bottle out of the bucket to line them up along the back of the truck. The mop bucket was left empty, and you knew you’d have to clean the floors, but you wanted to get everything else done first. Stripping the sheets from the stretcher, still stained with blood, and the plastic sheet underneath too, you grabbed a new wrapping from the hatch over the bed, covering the simple mattress that was laid over the metal bars.

Dropping the dirty rags onto the cold stone floor outside of the van, you grabbed at a bottle of disinfectant spray, shaking it as you went, and popping the top off of it. You sprayed everything, covering the inside of the mask and the outside, every surrounding piece of equipment, anything the man may have touched, or that you might have while wearing bloodied gloves, all the way to the handles on the insides of the doors.

You sprayed the seats, too, knowing that you’d had blood on yourself as you’d sat there, and the smell of bleach and chemicals was making your eyes sting and your throat feel itchy and blocked, but at least it was clean. Dropping that back down, you found some cloth and glass cleaner next, the windows and the mirrors dirty and dusty from the commotion, and you knew they needed to stay clean, so your guidance when driving was never impaired. It was all squeaky clean when you were finishing with it, only the floss left to be mopped down, and then the supplies unstacked, and you placed your hands on your hips as you stared at it all, feeling proud despite the protesting your body was giving up.

You still needed to mop, blood stains and dirt on the floors of the truck, but that was arguably the easiest part of your job, and so you scanned your eyes around for the mop bucket once again. There were several buckets still lay out, disinfectant, bleach, different germ killers, and some that you’d simply selected for their nice smell, and you added a splash of each to the bucket, a concoction you’d been using for years in many different formations from house to house.

Grabbing it by the handle, you held it in both arms, heading through to the rec-room, and dipping your head in a nod with a smile as you watched Newt and Minho head out, the former of who’s hand raised up in a wave as he continued to walk out with his friend, never stopping his chatter.

Placing the mop bucket under the hot water canteen, it rested of its own free will on the counter, and you leaned back a little, taking a small break. Fry was still looking through the fridge, grabbing the tupperwares of food he’d made but never had a chance to eat, his dinner for the night most likely, before nudging it shut with his foot and offering you a bright grin as he left. Brenda was singing loudly from the locker room, the new team beginning to filter in, and fill the space, and as you heard the cupboard door behind you open, you jumped, snapping back to attention and unsure of when your eyes had even closed.

Taller than you, a good free inches on your height, you turned to look up at the curly-haired boy standing beside you, watching as he retreated from within with a cereal bar, unwrapping it as he nudged it closed, peeling it open and turning to face you.

“How are you feeling?”

“Just a little tired, ready to head home. Not much left to do, now.” It was a small lie, only brief, because you’d probably still be here for a couple of hours with the pace at which you were moving and the workload that was left, and you turned to flip the tab on the hot water, deeming it to be enough as the sweet smell of the floral mix you’d added to the bleach drifted around the room.

“I meant, how are you doing.” His gaze dropped down to your side, the side you were holding a somewhat limp arm at, before coming back up to meet your gaze, and taking a bite of the snack in his hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m a candidate. Ninety percent of my time is spent schlepping around doing all the chores. I saw you cleaning the trucks while I was going through some paperwork, you’ve been favouring your right side. You must’ve gotten the other side beat up pretty bad.” You raised a brow at his observations, impressed by how much he’d managed to deduce, but he dipped his head, a small smile on his face. “Also, after Thomas yelled at you, Newt chewed his ear off for, like, five minutes in front of everyone and said you got hurt too.”

“And here I was thinking you were just that observant.” You tutted, leaning down to pick up the bucket, and Chuck jumped in, taking it for you, instead, and you mumbled a thank you, walking along beside him.

“You know, you could have come and asked me for help. I didn’t think you’d still be around cleaning this late.”

“Well, someone has to do it, right? It’s best to just get it done, and then I can go home and relax.” He placed the bucket down at your feet as the two of you came to stand before the opened truck, and you grabbed for the mop, dunking it into the hot water and swishing it around a little.

“Yeah, but, you’re hurt. I could have helped.”

“It's my job, Chuck. Not yours. You already have enough on your plate.” You walked up the ramp, beginning to swipe the wet end across the floor, stains and muck smearing as you went to reveal the polished metal underneath. He tucked his hands into his pockets, shoulders rising and falling a little.

“It feels like you can’t ask anyone to help, right?” You paused, looking up at him, and his face was painted neutral, but an understanding look shone in his eyes. “I get it. When you feel like you’re more just colleagues than friends, everyone is nice to you but asking a favour of them still seems more like it’d be a burden on them. An inconvenience. You’re on the team, but you’re not on the team. That’s how you feel right?”

“Did you talk to Newt?”

He laughed, shaking his head, the young boy’s curls bouncing as he did. “No, he wouldn't get it. Newt is great, but he’s on the team. I’m just a candidate, they still worry I might drop out, or have my experience and transfer to another house instead. They don’t trust me yet. Not fully. I think you feel that way, too.”

“Yeah, I guess.” You paused, rinsing the mop and ringing it clean to wipe at the floors again, pausing to lean on the handle a little. “They like you more than me, though.”

“Maybe, but I still have more in common with you right now than I do any of the others. We can be in this together.” That brought a smile to your face, your heart warming a little bit, because it did feel nice to finally have someone else to relate to, and so you found yourself smiling, figuring you might as well add a nod in agreement at this point.

“Alright, Chuck. We’re in it together.”

He laughed a little, reaching out one hand to smack against yours in a high five, your giggles mixing with his at the simple action, before he stepped back once again. “I’d stay with you and help out, but I have dinner plans with my mom. I can call and rearrange, if you do want some help, though? I feel like that’s what I should do.”

“Go to dinner, Chuck.”

“But, friends don’t leave other friends to clean alone when they’re hurt.” He sighed, a puppy-dog look crossing over his features.

“I will be fine, I swear. Go enjoy your family time, if it gets too much, I’ll just stop and leave it.” He made you promise to do so, his pinky held out in a way that made you laugh as you sealed the bond by wrapping your finger with his.

He took a few steps backwards, waving as he went, before facing the right way once again. You were left to watch him take his few steps toward the door, and you turned back to the job at hand, you kept up with the mopping, trying to make sure the floor was spotless, and using your foot to push the head of the mop along as you did, trying to ease the ache on your arms.

A knock against the edge of the ambulance, the metal ringing loudly, and you sighed, a smile on your face as you set the mop back down. “Thought I told you to go home, Chuck?”

Spinning around, your smile quickly dropped, the person looking up at you not being Chuck, and you tried not to frown as Thomas stared up at you. “It’s, uh, not Chuck.”

“I see that.”

He pursed his lips, a look more like a grimace on his face as he stepped back, letting you walk down the ramp slowly to stand before him, and he rolled on the balls on his feet a little as the space between you died with awkward tension. As the moment dragged out, you felt even more on edge than usual, watching as he let his eyes flick over the rest of the open space, avoiding you entirely.

“So, what do you need?”

“I wanted to apologise for shouting at you.” His gaze finally returned to you, an honest look on his face as he did, and you sighed trying not to seem quite too aggressive in your stance as he offered the first apology between you both. “Newt said you got hurt too, and that I shouldn’t have gone off at you, so, I’m sorry.”

“Right.” You hummed, not sure of what to say now that he had, and you lifted an arm, holding on the elbow on the other side, slightly defensive as you tried to steady your own anxiety. “Well, thanks, I guess.”

“Can I see?”

“What?” Your eyes narrowed on him, and he sighed with a slight hint of irritation in his voice.

“The bruises. Can I see how bad it is?”

“I’m a paramedic, Lieutenant. I know how to diagnose bruises, and I had it checked out at the hospital, I’m perfectly fine.” You turned away from him, taking barely a step before his hand was wrapping around upper-arm, and turning you to face him again. It wasn’t a tight grip, but it was on your bad side, and it hurt a little bit as you spun. He seemed to sense the pain, maybe it was the wince on your face, but he let go.

“Can you stop making it so hard to extend an olive branch, or whatever? It’s my job to know how badly injured you are so I can try and make your workload lighter. I’m just trying to be nice.” He growled, the word coming out through gritted teeth, and you swallowed a little, a single jolt of guilt running through you.

Turning to your side, you lifted the edge of your jumper and shirt, shivering a little at the cool breeze that had brushed over your skin as you did. He hissed under his breath, reaching out a little but never touching you as he took it in, before nodding his head. He looked at you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning up from your eyes to your hairline, squinting a little at the mark there.

A hand landed on your cheek, high enough that his thumb could push almost-dry strands out of the way, turning your head to the side, and your jaw dropped as he did, feeling his thumb smoothing over your skin lightly. Pulling your head away from him, he dropped his hand back to his side, caring his throat, and that same awkward tension rose between you again. “They’re pretty bad.”

“Well, they’re not sunshine and flowers.”

You swore you almost saw amusement flicker across the blank look on his face for just a second, but you'd never be sure, and so you simply folded your arms and tried not to clench too much. “You want some help carrying it all inside? You can finish mopping, and then we can put the stuff away together.”

“That’s really not n-” He raised a brow at you, challenging the refusal of the help and hidden olive branch he was offering you. “Fine, yeah. That would be nice.”

He only dipped his head, moving to the boxes in the corner, he opened up the first, lifting out rolls of bandages and bringing them back over as you inched the bucket down the ramp once again. He brought them over, stepping up alongside you and resting the box on the gurney as he began to unpack the contents quietly.

“Oh, the gauze! That goes in t-”

“I know where it goes.” He muttered, your jaw snapping shut, and you huffed a little. He never cast you a glance. “I’ve worked here a hell of a lot longer than you have.”

You only hummed, bending enough to pick up the blood soaked sheets from the floor and take them to the washers. He didn’t spare you a glance as you informed him of your plans, letting you walk away in silence as he unpacked boxes.

It wasn’t ideal, it certainly wasn’t comfortable, but at least it was something. It was the longest the two of you had ever been in one another’s company without it becoming a screaming match, and so it was a step beyond simply despising one another, finding some kind of common ground.

#thomas #thomas the maze runner #thomas x reader #thomas/reader #SAF #smoke and fire #tomuary #tom-uary #tommy month #thomas x reader smut #thomas/reader smut #dylan o'brien #dylan obrien #dylan obrien thomas #dylan obrien the maze runner #dylan obrien x reader #dylan obrien x reader smut #dylan obrien/reader #dylan obrien/reader smut

185 notes · View notes

deanstead · 3 years

Text

Glad You’re Safe

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Paramedic!Reader

Request by anon: Hi there! I was wondering if you could do a Jay Halstead imagine during the ‘Infection’ episode. The reader is exposed to the virus, the tests shows negative but they still keep her in quarantine. Been into Worried!Jay tics lately haha! And can the reader be either part of Intelligence or Ambo 61. Thanks hun xx

Warnings: Mentions of blood/injury, (some) anxiety

A/N: Based off of the Infection three-part crossover. Sorry, this took a while! I didn’t want to turn this into an episode rewrite so I just picked certain parts that I felt could fit in with the whole theme of the imagine/oneshot. I hope this turned out okay and that you like it!

---

Ambo 61, Man down, unknown causes

The announcement rang through the firehouse. You looked at Sylvie as the two of you stood at the same time, jogging towards the ambulance and sliding in quickly before Sylvie sped off.

“This is crazy.” You commented. The whole firehouse had spent the day in the common room, the news reports flashing every few seconds. To say it didn’t freak you out was definitely a lie.

Sylvie gave you a tight smile. “We’ll get through this. Like we always do.” You could hear the strain in her voice but you didn’t say more, as she pulled up at the address.

Grabbing your kits, the both of you jogged up the stairs, Sylvie knocking on the door immediately. “Fire Department!”

The door swung open and the both of you stepped in, looking around. “Anyone call for Paramedics?”

You swung your head around again as you heard a groan. “Brett.” You pointed deeper into the apartment, heading in ahead of Sylvie.

“Sir? Are you okay?” You asked, as the man in front of you swayed a little on his feet. He didn’t look like he even registered the fact that you were there.

“Sir?” You tried again, stepping forward before he fell forwards onto you, the both of you crumpling towards the ground.

“Y/L/N!” Sylvie rushed towards you, pulling him off you. Sylvie froze momentarily at the sight in front of her. You had blood smeared all over your front, including your hands. You swallowed, looking back at the man who was no longer conscious.

“Come on, Brett. I’m fine.” You reassured her, clambering up and pulling his now blood-stained shirt upwards to reveal the rotting skin and tissue below. You exchanged a look with Sylvie before quickly covering the open wound as best as you could.

“Come on, let’s go.” You urged, as the both of you fastened him onto the stair chair, down the stairs and into the ambulance.

---

After you had been checked out, very thoroughly you might add, you had been brought down to this area, where there were at least already 30 people in individual tents.

Yeap, quarantine.

“Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay?” Jay’s voice made you look up.

He looped around the tents, moving closer to your tent.

“Jay? What are you doing here?” You asked, getting up.

“What happened?” Jay asked, not answering you, and you could already hear the stress in his voice.

“Jay, it’s okay, I’m fine.” You reassured. “The first test came back clean. They’re just keeping me here for a while more to be safe. They’ll do a second run later just to be sure.”

Jay didn’t answer but quietly put his hand up against the transparent plastic sheet of the quarantine tent. You smiled and put yours up against his, only the plastic sheet separating your palms. “You go do what you have to do. I’ll be fine.”

Jay hesitated. “Go.” You repeated, smiling at him for good measure.

“Jay.” You called out again before he left.

He raised his eyebrow in that adorable way he does.

“Stay safe out there.” You whispered.

Jay sighed, smiling back at you. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

You smiled back at him as you watched him duck out.

---

Jay ground his teeth as he stood on the empty street where the parade was supposed to be taking place, alongside Chief Boden, Severide, Casey and Voight.

This prick had put the whole Chicago at risk but he had put you at risk and even hurt Will. He’d be more than happy to pound this prick’s ass into the ground.

“If he’s buying time, it means we still have time to get ahead of him.” Voight told Boden just as their radio crackled.

“Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambo 61, structure fire. Reports of looting, 1300 Hazel Avenue.”

Boden and Voight exchanged a look before shaking hands.

Casey patted Jay on the shoulder. “Hey, the test came back negative. We just heard back. Thought you might like to know. She’ll be back with us soon.”

Jay let out a breath. “Thanks, Casey.”

---

The minutes ticked by with you sitting there doing nothing, while your whole family at 51 was probably running ragged around the city with calls, and Jay was out there trying to catch the culprit as well.

You? You were just sitting here.

You looked up when you heard footsteps. “Hey Y/N.”

“Natalie.” You greeted, getting to your feet.

Natalie smiled, “Good news. We ran your cultures again, just to be safe and they came back free of infection.”

“Thanks Natalie.” You nodded to her. “I’ll head back to the firehouse.”

Natalie smiled as you hurtled out of there, glad to be out and ready to get back into the field.

You jogged into the firehouse, smiling as you saw Herrmann get out of the truck. “Hey!” Herrmann called as he spotted you, moving forward to give you a tight hug.

“Welcome back!”

“Everything okay?” Joe asked as he walked towards you. You could see the weariness on everyone’s faces.

You nodded, “All clear.”

Joe sighed, jamming his hands into his pocket. “Good. Now all I want is a nice long bath and a vat of Purell.”

As if on cue, the announcement beeped in.

Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, evacuation assistance, 2600 Roosevelt.

Joe’s face fell as Sylvie came running out. “We just heard from CPD. This is them – they think that Dr Seldon’s hitting the BRT building from the west side.” She paused as she reached you. “Ready, partner?”

You nodded, glad to finally feel useful. “Born ready.”

You followed her towards the ambulance as you heard Herrmann shout to the rest, “Alright, you heard her! Let’s move! This is it! Let’s end this!”

Sylvie stepped on the accelerator, hurtling towards the address but glanced at you. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She said.

You chuckled, “Tell me about it.” You paused, “I haven’t even had the chance to tell Jay yet.”

Sylvie glanced at you, a smile playing on her lips. “What, that the moment you were released from quarantine, you’re right back on the field?”

“Guilty.”

The both of you smiled as Sylvie pulled up to the address and you guys hopped out. The place was already swarming with trucks and patrol cars as you spotted Voight and Will stop not too far from where you were standing.

“My brother’s in there?” You heard Will’s voice rise as Voight nodded and your heart dropped.

Jay.

You bit your lip and took a deep breath as Sylvie tapped you on the shoulder. “Come on.”

Figuring that it’d be better to keep yourself busy with what you had to do, rather than stand around worrying about Jay, you nodded. “Just give me a moment, I’ll be right back.”

You ran to catch up with Will. “Will.”

Will spun around, his eyes locking onto yours.

“Don’t worry.” He whispered, squeezing my shoulder before following after Voight closely. “I’ll be back with him.”

You swallowed, watching Will’s retreating back for a second more before turning and heading back to where you were needed.

You busied yourself with seeing to anyone who was injured from the evacuation - a few sprained ankles or bruises but nothing too serious. In a way, you were glad to be busy.

Then you heard it – a gunshot from the other side of the building. Your head snapped up as you heard more popping sounds from the building itself. You forced yourself to look away, moving among the crowd again to busy yourself until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“We’re good here. Go on.” Sylvie said.

You looked back at your PIC.

Sylvie nodded encouragingly. You looked over at Chief Boden who nodded back to you.

“Thanks.” You muttered, heading towards the entrance of the building. You were sure everyone around you could probably hear your heart pounding in your chest.

It felt like forever before the door swung open and you spotted them – Voight, Will and… Jay.

A wave of relief washed over you as you watched him walk out of that building, looking like he had a few hours ago, except with a little frown across his face. That is, until he saw you.

“Y/N.” He breathed, jogging towards you and sweeping you into his arms.

His hand cradled the back of your head as he pulled you into him. You kept silent but closed your eyes, just glad to be back in Jay’s arms. “Are you okay?” You asked.

Jay smiled, “Yeah, I’m okay.” He nodded, as your eyes flicked to the gash on his arm and you glared at him.

“Sarge.” He called as Voight nodded at him, motioning for him to go with you.

You growled a little as you tugged him back towards the ambulance. “No chances, okay?” You said, as Jay laughed, shaking his head a little at your insistence but following you anyway.

“It’s not even a…” He stopped midsentence as you glared at him, falling to silence and perching himself at the open back of the ambulance.

“Are you really gonna argue with me about this after the day we have both had?”

Jay smiled, raising his hands in mock defeat, as you poured saline over the open gash and put a plaster over it.

Quietly, Jay raised his hand, cupping your face and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He whispered.

Your eyes flicked up to him, the whole world melting into the background, as if there was only you and Jay in this space and time. You sighed, “Right back at you. I was worried.”

“Not as worried as I was.” Jay shot back.

His eyes lingered on you for a while longer before he gently tugged you towards him again. You let yourself be pulled back into his embrace, just glad that everything was over.

717 notes · View notes

deiliamedlini · 3 years

Text

And Into the Fire

Summary: Zelda's job as an emergency dispatcher has made her good at handling stressful situations that force her to keep a level head, even when the person she has to send into a dangerous fire just so happens to be her boyfriend.

*note: I am not a dispatcher or a firefighter, so if any of this information or the instructions Zelda gives are drastically incorrect, just pretend it's fine hahaha. I tried to do research, but I ended up taking many liberties with stuff I couldn't find.*

Also on Ao3, which I always think is easier to read

Word Count: 6595

~~~

“Engine 2, what’s your status?”

Zelda stared at the screen, and impatiently tapped the outside of her headset, waiting to input the arrival time of the firetruck to the scene. It was in response to a fall down some stairs, and as unfortunate as that was, Zelda felt sickened by the relief she felt when it wasn’t a real fire.

She had her reasons. And they were beyond selfish, but she had them all the same.

It was the feeling she’d felt almost every day since taking the dispatch job working for the City of Hyrule. It wasn’t that she wasn’t trained for what to do, or that she felt unprepared to deal with it. She’d literally walked people through CPR on the phone, been on a call with someone hiding in a closet from an intruder in their home, and helped frightened strangers through car accidents. She worked the lines anytime someone called the 991 emergency line, and the standard lines whenever someone called the station to report a crime. She worked with the paramedics, and the police.

But she dreaded every single time she had to work with the fire department.

“Engine 2 to 853: we’ve just arrived on scene at 174 Castle Drive.”

“Received Engine 2,” she said into her headset and proceeded to type the information into one of the three screens in front of her. This one had the status log of everyone on duty for the day.

She always had her cheat sheet of codes nearby in case she needed it, but after enough time on the job, she knew nearly every combination of numbers and colors there was. The main frequency, Zelda and the other dispatchers, was ‘853’, so that was what people used to communicate with every dispatcher as a sort of home base, essentially. Then everyone else had their codes.

Zelda was 853. Ravio’s team was Engine 2. Ruto and Lulu were Car 3. She knew them all.

So, as she clicked and typed, she didn’t even need to pause to think, inputting locations and numbers with a typing speed that had only improved over the last few years.

What didn’t improve was her patience in the quieter moments while waiting in the dark room that was only lit by the harsh glow of blue and white lights from the screens for the next call.

She grabbed a twisted chip from a bag and chomped on it loudly. Even after all this time, she still sometimes worried she’d left her mic on while doing something obnoxious like talking or chewing. But the light was off, so she grabbed another chip and bit into it with a deafening crunch.

But of course, with her mouth full of three more chips, the 991 phone rang.

“Paya!” she practically choked out, half mumbled and unintelligible.

Paya turned and saw Zelda struggling to swallow her food and took the call instead while Zelda quickly chugged her water down.

Zelda had long since tuned out the other calls happening in the room. There were four of them working in this section at once, two more in another room who were working with another department, and two more who were on their dinner break for that hour. The room could get loud very easily on a busy day.

Unfortunately, this was a busy day.

Almost as soon as Zelda had swallowed her water, the words from Paya’s typed note crossed her screen, a line in blue that requested Zelda’s action. A structure fire at 729 Eldin St. She put her headset on and was very quickly reminded by the twisting nerves in her gut why she hated fires.

Still, she cleared her throat, making sure she wouldn’t choke on any remnants of the chips before speaking. “853, 853. There is a 2-9 in progress at 729 Eldin Street.”

Her eyes kept skimming the notes, some of which were spelled almost illegibly in Paya’s haste to record information while on the phone. Zelda began typing as she spoke into the radio, looking at a map of the city that had each police car, fire engine, and ambulance’s last reported location on it.

More notes popped up, and her eyes darted to the side where her other co-worker, Granté was also on the phone. At least two callers reporting the fire, from the looks of the notes.

“Caller reports active fire, flames and smoke in the vicinity. Reports from outside the building say flames are visible from the… south side.” She pulled up the address. “Structure is a multi-level office building. Requesting nearest unit to respond immediately to the scene. Engine 2 is currently unavailable.”

“Confirming the address is 729 Eldin Street?”

Zelda’s heart clenched and she closed her eyes for a moment, remembering exactly why she hated fires. She recognized the voice on the other end all too well.

But this was her job, and that was his. She’d been well aware of that from the beginning. So she signed to herself, giving all her nerves an exit before she hit the button again. “Affirmative.”

“Engine 6 is approximately three minutes from the scene. Will reroute from station to the scene.”

“Received. Engine 6 headed to 729 Eldin Street.” She pushed her hair from her face and reluctantly grabbed her mouse, clicking into the search bar to type the one name into her computer that she never enjoyed typing.

Link.

She clicked his name and changed his status from yellow, which meant he was returning to station, specifically after responding to a car accident with injuries today, to red, which was busy or in route to scene.

The status of his entire team changed to red.

She could hear several of the police cars responding over the radio, and she acknowledged each of them as she kept typing in information, changing status’, and especially transferring calls off her screen. She wasn’t meant to answer calls today; she was on the radio.

More notes crossed her screen and she grimaced before hitting the button again. “853 to Engine 6: multiple reports of alarms sounding nearby. Be advised, callers are reporting that the smoke is thick and covering the area.” Without a breath, she tapped a button to switch channels from the fire trucks to the police cars as she checked her other screen. “853 to Car 14: reports of onlookers close to the scene. They have been informed to get back, but according to the caller, there are few who will do so. Car 12 is also en route. Please assist.”

More notes across her screen. She flipped back to the channel connected directly to the fire trucks.

“853 to Engine 10: two women have left the building. Caller says they appear to be coughing heavily, though they have stepped away from the immediate area. Reports that there are more inside on their way out. Requesting rescue immediately.”

“Engine 10: Received. On our way.”

“Engine 4: Should we head out?”

Zelda made a face to herself, clicking Engine 4 on her screen where they were still listed as busy.

“853 to Engine 4: Have you cleared your 5-8?”

“Affirmative. Just finished.”

Zelda groaned. They were her biggest pains, rarely reporting times or calling in. She turned to check the time. “853 to Engine 4: I will clear you at 15:37, please head to 729 Eldin Street to assist Engine 6. Engines 11, 3, and 17, please confirm you received the summons alarm.”

She was typing again, each engine reporting in as they headed to the large fire. Link’s team was arriving first, but with the press of a button, Zelda had already sent out the alert to the others to provide their assistance.

Time passed infinitely slowly and all at once as she relayed information. Occasionally, she checked in, but mostly, she was listening to communication between the trucks among themselves.

From the radio chatter, she could tell Link was almost there. Grabbing her phone, she quickly tapped her texts. He was easy to find. The top one. “Be safe.”

Almost immediately, he responded with a heart emoji, and she put the phone down again, content with his response. She felt like she should probably break the habit, but whenever Link was sent somewhere that was considered dangerous, she couldn’t stop herself from sending him that text, even if it meant distracting him for a moment.

She began shifting uncomfortably in her seat as she kept reading the notes from the calls. It was an easy way to pass the time, but also to keep in the loop. Most of it was information that wasn’t necessary to relay over the radio: caller’s name, address, etc.

“Engine 6 has arrived on scene.”

She typed the time. “Received Engine 6.”

Zelda’s phone buzzed with a news alert about the fire, and she swiped it when it said there were photos.

“Oh shit,” she breathed. It wasn’t a fire. It was a fire.

She turned to see Paya off the phone, and she slid her chair over. “Did you see this?”

Paya grimaced. “Yikes. That happened fast.”

“Yeah. You wonder how they didn’t see it earlier, or what made it spread so fast.”

“I wasn’t wondering, but now I am. Thanks Zelda.”

Zelda smiled and scooted her chair back to her desk.

For some time, each police car, firetruck, and ambulance began arriving. People were coming out of the building, and everyone was focused on that while a few engines worked to douse the flames. The communication on the radio was mostly to each other rather than to her, back and forth with information that Zelda understood to an extent, but not in all its technicalities.

Link had explained some of it to her when she’d complained that she had no idea what he was saying about a hose once. She freely admitted that she wanted to eavesdrop on his calls and to know what he was talking about when he said he started going off about master streams or egress or something to that effect.

He’d taken her to the fire station on one of her days off, and he thankfully hadn’t been called out until after she left. That’s how, on her day off, she’d gone home to listen to his scanner, knees bent up close to her chin, bouncing her foot with anxiety. He’d crawled through collapsed rubble that day, and there was nothing she could do from her couch. It’s the main reason she preferred working whenever Link went out somewhere. At least then, she rarely felt helpless.

Why couldn’t he just have to respond to people falling? Or someone needing assistance breaking into their own cars? That was safer.

But she’d always known what she was getting herself into.

They’d met at a bar, both getting off from work around the same time. Zelda’s hours were absurd, and she was still getting used to them even after close to a year on the job. Link was with a group of his coworkers after they’d been called out that night. She’d even seen him there several times before, and she recognized their names as people she often spoke to over the radio every day, but she still drank alone, just needing to relax after work rather than socialize. She just wasn’t interested in drinking in her apartment by herself.

Though she was usually more assertive when it came to relationships and friendships, there was something different about Link when she saw him. She didn’t want to mess up their non-existent relationship by doing anything. At least if she said nothing, she could admire him from across the room. If she had to change watering holes because she’d embarrassed herself trying to talk to the most attractive firefighter on the force—in her humble opinion—she’d die a little bit. So, she was beyond surprised when he’d broken from his group one night and offered to buy her a drink once he also realized she was the voice on the other end of the radio.

He’d spoken first, but hours later, Zelda had been the first one to offer her number. And that’s how Link realized he’d left his phone at the station.

“I really am not lying! I’m not trying to blow you off or anything. I… do you have a napkin or something?” He’d been frantic, patting his pockets and having his team member, Urbosa, call his phone repeatedly.

Zelda thought it was cute. “I can just text you. What’s your number?”

He’d frozen. “I—uh—I don’t know. It’s in my phone. I broke my old one and changed carriers, so it’s new, and I don’t know it yet.” She’d rolled her eyes, feeling like she’d completely blown it, embarrassing herself by trying to give him her number when he didn’t seem interested. When he’d seen her expression, he’d grabbed her hand. “No, wait! One of them will have it.”

“Are you sure you want my number?”

“Gods, yes!”

His enthusiasm was what had her smiling again, and she held his hand tighter while she reached over the counter to grab a pen from a cup. Then she spread his hand out in hers and wrote her number on his palm like a middle schooler.

“Don’t sweat it off,” she winked, grabbing her bag. “I have to get up in a few hours for my next shift, but if you do lose it, you know where I work.”

“Right. Right, I do. That’s right.”

He was cute and easily flustered. Even still, after almost three years into their relationship, she knew how to make him stutter nervously.

“I’ll… I’ll text you as soon as I get my phone. So, you know who I am.”

She’d laughed as she pulled her jacket on. “Okay, Link. I’ll talk to you soon, I hope.”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

“Goodnight, Link,” she’d said with a smile that had melted him that first day and every day since.

“Goodnight, Zelda.”

She snapped back to the present when she heard the 991 phone ring at her desk.

Looking around, she saw everyone else was busy, and Paya had run to the bathroom. She wasn’t really meant to answer calls while on the radio, but the light kept flashing and no one else was available. She switched headsets and pressed a button that answered the call.

“991: this line is recorded; what’s your emergency?”

She was already clicking into the system to start a new call log, her fingers poised over the keys. Zelda flinched as she was met with muffled noises loud in her ear.

“I’m sorry, could you repeat that? What’s your emergency?”

“—and there’s smoke everywhere and I don’t know what to do! I have my son and my father here. He’s in his nineties and—”

“What’s the address of your emergency, sir?”

“—the handle was hot so I don’t know what to do here—”

“Sir, please, you have to remain calm so I can help you. What’s the address of your emergency?”

Caller panicked. Mentioned smoke. Son and father present. Address _

Zelda listened to the man compose himself as she typed.

Address 729 Eldin St. Shocker. Another call about the fire.

“I don’t know what to do!” the man cried again.

“Sir, we already have firefighters at the scene. Can you tell me your location exactly?”

“Um, um, we’re on the fourth floor. My office was down the hall, and my father was here to drop off my son, but he’s old and he’s having a hard time breathing, and I don’t know what to do!”

Zelda’s eyes bugged out and she looked at the notes. That couldn’t be. The manager stated everyone was accounted for.

“Could you just confirm for me: you’re inside the building, correct?”

“Yes! The fourth floor! Oh gods, the smoke is so thick. Please, my son is here!”

“Sir, you need to leave the building immediately. Help is outside and they’ll look at all of you.”

“I can’t! There was fire on the stars, and now my office door handle is too hot and that means the fire is on the other side of the door—right?— and the smoke is in the room and my son and father can’t stop coughing!”

“Okay. Is there another exit you can use?”

“I- I don’t know!”

“Stop and think. Is there a second door out of your office that you can try?”

“No! No, it’s just the one.”

“Is there a window in your office?”

“Yes!”

“Good. Is there a fire escape out your window? You need to get out of the building, sir.”

There was a shuffle, and Zelda took the pause to frantically type her notes. Spelling errors, abbreviations, everything to get the information down for someone to relay over the radio.

“I can’t get it open, and my father is struggling!”

“Okay. Stay calm. What I need you to do is to use anything you have to block the underneath of the door, okay? Use a towel, a jacket, anything. You want to stop the smoke from coming in so quickly.”

Her voice was level, but she couldn’t help the rising panic she was feeling as no one else was taking the call over the radio.

“Okay, okay, I did it!”

“Good. What’s your name?”

“Thadd.”

“Thadd. Is your father breathing, Thadd? Can you check for me?”

A pause. Zelda spun in her chair, looking around as everyone else was still occupied.

“He is. He’s breathing, but it’s sounding raspy.”

“Keep him low to the ground. Smoke rises, so you’re better off close to the ground. How old is your son?”

“He’s ten.”

“Okay, have him keep an eye on your father for a moment. I need you to try to open the window again. Don’t hang up. I’m here. I’m letting the firefighters know where to find you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” She switched to the handheld mic, muting the 991 call and interrupting the chatter between the ambulance and one of the other trucks on the way. “This is 853: there are three people trapped on the fourth floor, east side of the building. Room is rapidly filling with smoke. Occupants are the caller, his elderly father, and his ten-year-old son. Caller’s name is Thadd.”

There was a long pause, presumably so everyone could yell at each other on the scene. She let go of that button and unmuted Thadd. “How is it going?”

“I can’t!”

“Break it, Thadd. You need to get it open. You need air, and a way out.”

“They’ll make me replace the window! I can’t afford that!”

Zelda scoffed to herself that that was his first thought. “I guarantee you, that’s not going to happen. You need to break it.”

“Okay, okay, what do I use?”

“Anything heavy. How old are you Thadd?”

“I’m 43. This has never happened to me before! We were just swapping my son after he’d spent the night with his grandparents.”

“It’s okay. We’re going to get you all out. Break the glass.” The other radio called her, and though she recognized Link’s voice, she couldn’t understand his words. “Keep trying, Thadd. Don’t hang up.” She muted him again. “853: repeat please?”

“You’re sure they’re inside? The manager says everyone is accounted for.”

“I’m on the phone with him right now, Link. He’s in there. Fourth floor. Forty-three-year-old male, struggling to get his window open. Door handle is hot to the touch. He’s blocked the smoke underneath his door, and says the stairwell was already on fire when he and his family tried to get out. His father is struggling to breathe, but he still is. The young boy is monitoring the grandfather’s condition so the caller can try to break the window open for rescue.”

“Shit,” Link muttered, not taking his finger off the button fast enough.

“I got the window open! There’s nothing! No fire escape! What do we do now?”

“Get everyone near the window. Get some air if it’s safe to move your father. He’s still breathing?”

“Yes.”

“He didn’t sustain a fall or other head injury, correct?”

“Right.”

“Get to the window then, and stay low to the ground. Help is coming. Stay by the window; they’ll likely try to get you out from there.”

“Okay, okay.”

Zelda muted him again before her head whipped to Paya, as she entered the room again. “Paya! I need you to take over the radio for me now! I’m on a call with someone inside the building still. Three people.”

“Oh, shit!”

“No kidding.”

She slid her headset back over her ear and unmuted Thadd, began typing some of her backlogged notes, starting with him getting the window open. “Thadd, can you give me some more information about where to find your office? Does it have a number on the door?”

“Yeah, it’s room 4F. The door is blue, but I think that might be too—”

“F as in Fronk, or S as in Selmie?”

“Fronk. F like Fronk!”

“Alright. And it’s at the end of a hallway on the fourth floor. Is there another door in that hallway, or any other halls? What side should they be looking at? We want them to get directly to you if they have to go inside.”

“No, no, no, no the end of the hall. Straight at the end. It’s the only one, they can’t miss it!”

“Okay, Thadd. You’re doing great. Just hang on. Someone is—” she froze for a moment, realizing it was Link’s name in the notes. Link and a few others were going in. The alley to get to Thadd’s window was too narrow for the trucks. Of course it was his team going. “—someone is coming in for you right now. They’re already inside, so I need you to stay calm and stay near the window. How is your son doing? Is he breathing alright? Are you?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine, it’s my father!”

“How about your son? What’s his name?”

“Azu.”

“Azu is okay?”

“He’s in my arms. I have him near the window. I have you in my other hand.”

“Okay, good. Now how’s your father? He’s still breathing, correct?”

She could hear him say yes, but her attention drifted back to the busy radio. And her breathing picked up when she heard each member of Link’s team struggle to make it up the stairs in the rapidly crumbling office building.

Her hand shook as she pressed the button to speak. “853 to Engine 6 Team?”

“Go ahead, Zel.”

Zelda smiled slightly. Link slipped up far more often than she did on the radio, but she’d already messed up today too. Their names came out of each other’s mouths before they could even think about any numbers they were meant to use.

“Caller reports that the room is at the end of a hallway, directly down the hall on the fourth floor. There are no other halls to be confused with on that floor. The door is blue and marked as 4F. That’s F as in Fronk.”

“Received; 4 Fronk.”

Letting go of the button without saying anything else was always difficult, but she returned her attention to Thadd until she heard the radio go off again.

“Get it out of the way!” Revali shouted, and it was clear that he didn’t realize their radios were clicked on in the first place. “Move it, Link!”

“I’ve got it,” Daruk’s voice said steadily. There was a thud.

“Mipha! Look out!”

Another crash.

“The building is shaking,” Thadd whispered, bringing her attention to a dividing point as she tried to keep listening to them both.

Zelda swallowed hard. “It’s probably the wind. Don’t worry. Nothing is going to happen to you or the building. They’re almost to you.”

“Revali, hand me that axe!” Urbosa called out over the radio.

“I’m going up this way,” Link grumbled.

“Don’t! That’s not going to work!”

“Daruk, help me up!”

“No problem, Little Guy.”

“Link!” Mipha shouted, panicked, before the radio turned off.

Zelda pressed her hand to her mouth to stop a noise from squeaking out. She turned to Paya, who was already looking at her sympathetically before the girl held down the speak button.

“853: be advised that exchange was broadcast.”

“Engine 6 Team: we have a possible injury. Requesting medical team on standby for physical injury as well as smoke.”

“I heard something!” Thadd said, his voice low and trembling.

Zelda spun back to her desk, shaking. That was Link. Link was injured, but she couldn’t request more information, or even pay attention to the radio. She had Thadd to worry about, and that was her job. “That’s help coming for you. You’re going to be fine.” She let go of the button to wipe a tear from her eyes and shake her shoulders out so her voice didn’t shake. “Tell me what you can hear without leaving your place by the window. Is it voices you can hear, or just noises?”

“I can’t…” Thadd was coughing heavily now. “I can’t tell.”

“It’s okay. You’re doing so well. Just another minute, okay? They’re nearly to you. Just keep staying low.”

“Okay. Oka—” he whispered just before there was a thud on the line, the sound of a bang, and then raspy breathing and coughing on the other end.

“Thadd? Thadd? Can you hear me? Are you there? Thadd? What just happened? Hello?” Each time, she paused, but each time, she heard nothing but the raspy breath of someone near the phone. “Is anyone else there?” She hoped she’d been on speakerphone.

She kept trying, her attention divided between listening for a response, and listening to the chatter on the radio, occasionally turning to Paya for good measure.

A bang on the phone brought her back.

“Thadd, is that you?”

“Thadd?”

Link’s voice, muffled though it was, rang out clear in her brain. Zelda let out a long breath of air as she heard Link trying to communicate with the three of them in the room before his voice was distant and turned away. “Revali, get the kid! Daruk, the old man! Mipha, go with them! Zel said he was the one struggling. Get him oxygen ASAP.”

“Link?!” Zelda tried into the receiver, though she doubted he’d be able to hear her through the phone that was not on speaker, with the fire around him, and all his gear on.

“I’ll bring him down,” Urbosa said. “You’re hurting.”

“It was a just scratch,” Link said dismissively.

“Okay, sure. That’s what I’d call it.”

“Just don’t tell Zel how I got hurt. I don’t want her to worry.”

“She’ll figure it out. It was on the radio.”

Zelda squeezed her fist together and her palm hit her desk several times. “Link! Get out already!” Not that he could hear her. Paya turned around with a curious glance though.

“Come on, we have to get out of here,” Urbosa said, making a strained noise as she lifted Thadd. The line disconnected with a final thud as the phone presumably fell.

Zelda sucked in a deep breath and wrote her notes quickly before pulling her legs up to her chin while she swiveled on her chair as she stared at the radio.

“—confirmed: we have the ten-year-old boy and the ninety-year-old male. They are in the ambulance now.”

“Good, where are Link and Urbs—”

“Shit!”

A deafening bang.

Zelda was on her feet, both hands covering her mouth as she started to pace. Paya stayed on the radio as she checked on Zelda.

There were a thousand silent seconds. The world stood still in that infinite moment where Zelda existed, and the sounds on the radio existed, and nothing else.

There were no other thoughts in her brain, no subconscious commands telling her to breathe or blink. There was nothing to stop the silent tears that rolled down her cheek, and nothing that allowed her to process any of the words on the screen, over the radio, or even Paya’s voice behind her.

Her fingers itched to grab her phone, to call Link just because she knew he was in danger, but there was nothing she could do about it. It was like she was sitting at home while he crawled through collapsing rubble all over again.

It wasn’t until her ears pricked at the sound of Link’s voice in the background of someone else’s radio call that she could breathe again.

She sat back down in her chair as the world came back to her. The notes on the screen read: Thadd has been brought to Engine 10. All accounted for. Building clear. Structure unstable. Gas lines potentially causing explosion in the breakroom kitchen, allegedly.

Wiping her eyes, Zelda grabbed her phone and sent Link a text. “You’re okay?”

“I am,” he sent back almost immediately, as if he’d already been reaching for his phone to text Zelda first. He continued to type. “Can’t talk. They strapped me to some oxygen. I should probably come home early today.”

“I agree,” she responded, choking out a laugh. She added the laughing emoji for good measure. She was going to simply say she’d see him later, to let him go back to work. But she ended up typing “I love you,” instead.

“I love you too.”

Zelda set the phone aside and put her headset back on, nodding to Paya that she was ready to swap back to the radio.

Paya gave her a thumbs up just before the phone rang, and she Paya answered it before typing.

A note came across Zelda’s screen.

She cleared her throat. “853 to Car 7: there is a 7-5 in progress on Veiled Avenue. White sedan, travelling northbound on highway 10 out of the city. Informing the kingdom police that it will likely cross the jurisdiction line.”

“Car 7 to 863: we are in pursuit.”

“Received.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zelda returned home to an empty apartment. Link’s car wasn’t in the lot yet, and it gave her a minute to set her keys down and put water on the stove for tea.

Paya had been willing to swap her dinner break with Zelda so she could leave early instead to get home a little sooner, and though Zelda would normally have turned down the offer, she hastily accepted it and hurried home.

She sat on the couch in her leggings and a loose shirt that she’d sleep in. By the time she’d drank half the cup of tea, she heard the rattle of keys in the door’s lock, and she set the mug down.

Link pushed the door open and locked it again before he dropped his keys into the bowl by the door. When he looked up and saw Zelda, a large smile broke out across his face.

She was already heading across the room towards him, but he held out a hand to stop her.

“I didn’t have a chance to shower. I reek, and I’m still covered in ash. It’s going to get all over you.”

“I don’t give a shit, Link,” she muttered before wrapping her arms around his neck.

He chuckled and his arms went tightly around her waist, even lifting her up playfully before he kissed her.

She wasn’t content with just the brief kiss he offered, and she snaked her arm up to his neck to guide him right back to her again. And again. And again.

She didn’t even care that he absolutely reeked like smoke, or that it was like kissing a campfire. His lips were chapped, and he was grimy, skin stained with soot and dried sweat, hair matted and stiff.

Finally, he pulled back laughing at her enthusiasm. “Let me shower first, okay?”

She whined and put on the pouting face she knew Link struggled to resist.

“Oh, stop,” he snorted, kissing her again. “You did good today.”

“Just today?” she joked, noting that he was distinctly hiding a limp. She crossed her arms and waited for him to admit to his injury.

“Yesterday too,” he teased, going to the pile of laundry to grab some clean clothes neither of them had put away.

“I’d say you did good, too, but you’re hurt, aren’t you?”

He froze and bit his lip before turning to her. “Maybe.”

“What was it?”

“Piece of wood got me good.”

“Where?”

He cleared his throat and undid his belt, tossing it to the ground before he stepped out of his pants and tossed them into the empty laundry basket. His entire thigh was a mess of blacks and blues and purples and reds.

“Link!”

“They already made me get it X-rayed, just in case. That’s why I was late. It looks like it’s just a bad bruise, not a break or sprain or whatever.”

“I heard you tell Urbosa you were going to lie to me. That guy’s phone was on when you were in there.”

He didn’t seem surprised that she knew, but apologetically grabbed her hips and pulled her close enough that he could lightly run the tip of his nose along her ear, which always tickled Zelda and sent a chill down her spine. “Well, I didn’t tell her to lie. I told her not to tell you how I got hurt so you wouldn’t worry.”

“Did you think I was going to miss the massive discoloring of your leg?”

“I’d hoped you might have, at least for tonight.”

She scoffed and nuzzled her face into his neck, still too relieved to be annoyed.

His hands went soothingly through her hair several times, before she realized that he was the one shaking, not her.

“Link?”

His expression was distant when she wasn’t looking at him, but he smiled as soon as she looked back at him. “I was just thinking. You know how much I love hearing you on the radio when I’m out there? And then I come home and I get to hold you. And, lucky bastard that I am, I get to do that anytime, even when I’m not in a burning building.”

“Save a kitten tomorrow, Link. I’ll hold you then, too, and I think we’ll both breathe easier.”

“I want to marry you.”

Zelda froze for a moment, and pulled back to look at him. “You what?”

He nodded and sighed. “I love you. I think about you all the time. I want to be with you until I die. And I want you to be safe, protected and taken care of if anything were to happen to me at work.”

Zelda let out a breath. They’d talked about marriage before as some vague future plan. They’d talked about death and re-written their wills one night when Link had gotten into this mindset and then gone to their lawyers the next day to make it official. But they’d never put the two concepts into the same sentence. Both seemed inevitable, but Zelda didn’t want them to be spoken in the same breath.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, and you shouldn’t ask me to marry you just because we had a rough day at work. You’re fine. I’m fine. Nothing is going to happen to either of us, okay? I won’t let it. You have me on the radio with you, so obviously you’re going to be fine. Ask me another time, okay? Tomorrow, maybe, when it’s not so morbid and spur-of-the-moment.”

Link nodded again a wide smirk on his face at her non-answer answer. “You’re right. Can you grab my socks from the top drawer for me? My leg, you know?”

She made a face. “Why’d you put your socks there?”

“Safekeeping.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Okay, weirdo.” Sure enough, she pulled the drawer Link used for his trinkets—bookmarks he wasn’t using, a gum packet filled that he’d pop into his mouth at random—and saw one single pair of socks. “You’re so strange sometimes, Link.”

But when she grabbed the fat, rolled up ball of socks, it wasn’t soft. She met with the sharp corner of an object inside.

Glancing at Link in confusion, he just watched her, his eyes on hers with a slight gleam in them, one he was trying hard not to show.

Suspicious of his expression, she unrolled the socks and for maybe the fifth time that day, she absolutely froze. It was a ring box.

“Can I open it?” she asked in a surprised whisper.

“Well, it’s yours if you want it, so of course you can.”

Inside was a simple diamond on a gold band, one that Zelda recognized immediately.

She closed the lid and bit her lip as tears aggressively sprang to her eyes, and she crossed the room to throw her arms back around Link, burying her head straight back into his neck. When she pulled away, her tears left two streaks of clean on his dirty skin. Still, she couldn’t bring herself to care and kissed him long and hard.

“How long have you had this?”

“Two weeks or so? I spoke to your father a while ago about it, but I had to get it sized.”

“And was willing to give it to you? He gave up my mother’s ring?”

“Well, he gave it to you, technically. I’m not the one wearing it.”

She wiped her eyes and held out the box. “So, this actually isn’t spur of the moment?”

He shrugged, “I was thinking of asking on our anniversary, so maybe the timing is a little bit, but not the sentiment.”

“Please, don’t get on your knee, but will you do me the honors?”

“Of course,” he said, grabbing the ring and tossing the box onto the bed before sliding it onto her finger, letting out an audibly relieved breath.

Zelda pulled him into a quick kiss before giggling giddily. “Why are you so nervous? Did you actually think I’d say no?”

Link made a face. “No. I thought it wouldn’t fit. I borrowed one of your other rings and just prayed to the Goddess that it was a ring for the right finger.”

“You’re so cocky, Link,” she chuckled.

“Just in love.”

“Shut up,” she laughed before she really found herself laughing. “Oh Goddess, Link… you just proposed to me in your underwear.”

He looked down, bruise on his thigh still glaring at him. “Yep, I did. On par with us though, I think.”

“We’ll have to leave that detail out when anyone asks.”

“Why? Do people really think you’ve never seen me without pants before? We’ve been living together forever.”

“Oh sure, let me remind my father that I’m used to seeing you without pants.” She shrugged in mock disgust.

He chuckled and spun her so she was in front of him, and he rested his chin on her shoulder. “Maybe not, but speaking of no pants, I really do need a shower. And since you’ve been jumping all over me, you now also reek of fire and need a shower. And it just so happens I know one that’s about to be running.”

“Is that so?” she laughed. “And I thought today was going to be a bad day when you had to run into a burning building.”

“Nah, I had someone I trust calling the shots on the other end of the radio. Hearing her voice while I’m stressed at work is never a bad day.”

Zelda pulled him by the hand towards the bathroom, her ring shimmering in the lamplight. “No, that’s not a bad day at all.”

#legend of zelda #modern au #link #zelda #zelink #dispatcher #firefighter #they work together technically #oneshot #writing #this second half devolved into absolute fluff. Oops

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