#and ive been watching too much 911
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i want to be a firefighter when i grow up (im a 23 year old fresh graduate with a degree rendered worthless by today's capitalist stem-centric society)
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Another fun thing about how I've been consuming 9-1-1 is that I've been reading fanfiction indiscriminately while jumping around, and so I pick up things from fanfic. But the thing about learning things from fanfic is you never know if it's canon or fanon, even if it does appear repeatedly over different works by different authors. And so there were a few things were I was like "I haven't come across this yet in my watching, it's probably just popular fanon." Well imagine my surprise when every instance of that so far has been disproven the more I watch the show.
My favorite instance of being wrong so far is the nickname "Buckaroo" for Buck. I was pretty convinced that it either wasn't a thing at all in the show or it was a one time nickname that never showed up again, and the fandom just ran with it in fics. I don't know how many times the nickname pops up but I do know I've encountered it at least three times now with three separate characters using the nickname
#i was overjoyed every time#chim athena and carla are the ones ive seen use it but i would not be shocked if you told me hen does too at some point#its such an affectionate nickname i love it so much#also i thought buck texting bobby every time he woke up after his coma was just one persons idea but no?? thats fucking canon??#the buck and bobby relationship drives me bonkers especially in relation to 6x10 and 11 like oh my god#liv talks#liv watches shit#9 1 1#911 show#would love to know if bobby ever uses buckaroo for buck#and when#i think its fair of me to have been doubtful about the nickname being legitimate considering im a merlin fandom vet#and gwaine calling author princess is widespread in the fandom to the point everyone thinks its canon but its actually not
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random bucktommy thoughts
this beautiful couple has been occupying a space in my head rent free the past few weeks. i gotta be honest though, i still yet have to watch a single episode of 911. now before you all come for me, i'd like to say that each person has different way of enjoying something they genuinely care about. i may have not watched a single episode of 911 but I was exposed and devoured all the content i can on social media. it makes me happy seeing them even if it is just a simple gif, an edit that a fan spent lots of time making or just simple snippets of bucktommy episodes. oh and the red string theory, i love it so much because it connects all the dots and when you think about it, it makes sense in a magical way. sadly not all the content is positive and that is the reality. but the level of hate i've seen is new to me. been a fan girl to many fandoms for many years but its the first time ive seen this "enthusiastic" fans go low just to spread hate on bucktommy. but as a fan, based on experience, who have put too much care and passion to a character that i failed to separate him from his actor only to be broken hearted, i've learned to just block and not engage with the negativity and be just a fan from afar. the more fuel we add to the fire the more the haters will thrive. to all the #tommybuck, #bucktommy, #tevan, #kinley fans, i adore all of you keep all doing what you are doing, i enjoy your theories, your fascinating headcannons and all the love you are willing to give to Tommy and Buck. don't let others discourage what you are doing and let us all witness their love bloom in a beautiful love story. for me after all, bucktommy is a story of love, whether its meant to be endgame or not we will always have their moments to cherish and make content about. and make the haters realize they should never ever underestimate a #bucktommy fan.
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it’s after 12 am on the east coast so it is officially 911 ON ABC PREMIERE DAY!
i know we’ve gotten so much good stuff in the past 48 hours, and i know we’re all super excited for the new season but friendly reminder that even though its fun to have theories of whats going to happen to your favorite characters, if a storyline doesn’t play out EXACTLY the way you pictured it in your head, it doesn’t mean its bad writing
ive been guilty of this too, but sometimes we build up a moment so much in our heads that there’s inevitable disappointment when it doesn’t happen down to the detail, and that’s not the fault of the people involved.
our show’s coming back on a new network, with a ton of promotion, after acting AND writing strikes, and that’s something to celebrate :)
cant wait to watch with all of you! <3
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What about Austin xpregnant reader. And she like faints and they find her and take to the hospital and he’s so scared.
can’t live without you - austin butler
note ; not me literally saying i was done with blurbs. might have to turn blurb night into blurb day considering i won’t have a full imagine up by sunday… ANYWAY austin is the cutest baby angel and u know he’s so overprotective about you and your baby (unborn or not) akdjdjdkdjd
warnings ; mentions of blood, angst, pregnancy
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
austin didn’t really have many things in life to be scared of. he had money, he had a secure job, and most importantly, he had you. now, you were the best thing to ever happen to him. well, beside the little seed that was growing inside of you. a token of his love had planted itself inside your womb. you two didn’t want to have kids yet, freshly married, but he got carried away one night and, suddenly, he was about to be a father.
but, he had one thing to be scared of.
and that was losing you.
he had found you sprawled on the bathroom floor, fresh blood clinging to your pants. he was paralyzed with fear, the unthinkable rushing into his brain. he saw your swollen belly moving up and down, and he couldn’t help the relief that washed over him. you were alive, somewhat. but, with shaky hands and tears in his eyes, he called 911. “please, seed. please don’t kill mommy,” he felt guilty for even saying it.
he had called your baby girl ‘seed’ ever since he found out the news. at first, you thought it sounded idiotic. but, you grew to love it, as he grew to love being a father. as his eyes watched paramedics carry you out of your shared apartment, he felt as if he was in a daze. his body trembled, mouth dry as he sat beside you in the ambulance. his hand never let go of yours for a second.
you had finally awoken near the end of the ride, scared and confused. you asked what happened, hoping for some comfort, only to take note of the blood. you looked at austin for answers, but he had none. he always had the answers. yes, you were awake, and yes, you were fine. but, what about seed?
and even now, in your hospital bed, with several iv’s poking into you, austin still couldn’t shake the feeling of sheer panic. he was by your bedside, aimlessly flicking through television channels. “baby, are you alright?” you noticed the dead look in his eyes.
“yeah, yeah, i’m good, my love,” he barely looked at you, giving your hand a squeeze. you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. seed was fine. you were fine. everything was okay. but, in austin’s head, nothing was okay. he had finally experienced the fear of losing you, and it was one of the most terrifying experiences of his life.
he couldn’t let it happen again.
the emotions hit him like a train. before he knew it, sobs wracked his entire body, body shaking with fear. you tried to sit up as much as you could, coaxing him into your hospital bed to lay with you. “baby, i’m okay. we’re okay, i promise,” you kissed the top of his head. “i’m not going anywhere.”
he let a few more cries out, hugging you tight enough to cut off your circulation. “i-i just- i can’t lose you. that was the scariest moment of my life, seeing you lie there, not knowing if you were dead or alive. a-and if i lose you, i’ll never come back from that.”
“i know, baby,” you spoke gently. “i’ll do my best to stay alive if you do too. i can’t live without you either.”
he nodded like a toddler who had just been scolded for eating a chocolate bar. he knew his fears were irrational, and that you were okay. “i love you, [y/n], so much. and i’m gonna keep reminding you everyday.”
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
keep your ideas coming here!
#answered#anon#austin butler blurb#austin butler fluff#austin butler fanfic#austin butler x reader#austin butler#angelina's drabbles
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The Idea of You | Evan "Buck" Buckley x Eddie Diaz | 911
Watching him fall was hard, and by God did Eddie never want to see that again, watching him dangle there on that wire was harder. But nothing had prepared him for watching Buck lay in that hospital bed, unmoving, unchanging. It nearly killed him inside but alas, Eddie stayed strong because he knew if he didn’t, everything else in his life would go to Hell. So, he waited, and waited, and waited.
Doctors and nurses came and went, and so did members of the 118, and yet Eddie stayed. He only took a small repertoire when he had a shift or to go home and see Christopher. He stayed when Bucks parents refused to visit or when Maddie had to return to Jee-Yun. He stayed when everyone told him to leave, when they told him that Buck was strong enough to pull through, when they told him not to worry so much.
But Eddie couldn’t not worry. Buck was everything to him, and to Christopher. He had been his best friend since he joined the 118 and he couldn’t image life without him. Buck had been there for him and there was nobody Eddie held in higher esteem. Even the feeling he got when he was around Buck brought him joy; it was miles better compared to the emptiness that filled him when Buck went home. The contentment, the ease, the peace that Eddie had longed for all of his life came bountifully when Buck was there, when his Buck was there.
He had never thought of Buck as his own; Buck was a ladies man, always trying to improve himself for the next girl that would come along and potentially become the one. When he got together with Taylor, Eddie had subconsciously given up the idea that they could be something. The thought never crossed his mind because how could he be in love with his best friend, nevertheless the aching feeling in his chest grew heavier at the sight of the two of them together.
However, as Eddie watched Buck lay on the hospital bed, nothing sustaining his life bar some wires and IV bags, he finally let himself imagine the possibility of a life with Buck. The idea that he could come home with him after a long shift and exist in the same space at the same time; the idea of seeing him first thing in the morning and at the last moment at night. The idea that they could be happy. But it was all an idea, Eddie knew that happiness didn’t often come for people like him.
So, he took Bucks hand in his left and with his right, he gently placed his fingers on his pulse line and just felt the life course through Bucks veins. Eddie sat there for a long time, he wasn’t sure how long but he knew that he missed the start of his shift and yet he couldn’t bring himself to care because he was here, and Buck was alive.
Eddie could live with the fact that Buck might not ever love him back, or that he would sit with this feelings of want and lust for the rest of his days, but he couldn’t live with the regret of never telling him how he felt. So, he continued to wait, and wait, and wait. He waited for another six days until he heard the heart monitor jump slightly and saw Buck began to stir. He knew he should’ve called for a nurse then and there but he watched as Buck began to open his eyes so that he wouldn’t be alone.
Eddie, who had moved out of the way, silently watched the nurses file into the room at the summon of the call button, gazing just beyond Buck’s intense stare directed at him. It was only when the last nurse finally left the room again did Eddie meet his stare.
“Are you okay?” Buck croaked out, his voice still dry and heavy from the intubation tube, “You seem off.”
And for the first time since Buck fell, Eddie laughed. It was unexpected but genuine and hearty. “What about you? You’re the one who fell and has been in a coma.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine, I always am.”
“You almost died.”
“Eds, you look like you did die.” He shot back. “Look, I’m in the best place to be cared for but please let me look after you too. Its normal to worry about the people you love and care about. So please let me ask how you are.”
The pair fell silent as Buck’s words hung in the air, even the heartrate monitor seemed to recognise the tension and beeped quieter than usual. Eddie moved from the corner of the room and back to his chair by Buck’s bedside.
“You love me?” Eddie whispered out, almost afraid to say it loudly as if it would make it untrue.
“Of course, I do, you’re my best friend, how could I not?”
Oh.
Eddie knew it was a high possibility that Buck wouldn’t love him; he couldn’t imagine that most people would. But hear him openly express his love only to take it away seconds later almost crushed him. He stood up to leave before Buck’s hand reached for his to pull him down to his seat again.
“But you’re not just my best friend, and nearly dying…” Buck coughed, as he tried to put his intention into words, “And nearly dying made me realise that life is short to only love somebody, to love you in one way. I get that you might not - hell you won’t – feel the same way but I needed to tell you even if it makes you hate me forever because what fool falls in love-“
“Shut up,” Eddie interrupted, “I love you too, Evan.”
Buck just looked at Eddie, and only blushed slightly as Eddie leaned forward to kiss his forehead. It may have taken Buck falling from the rig to make him realise how much he loved him, but by God did Eddie fall in love harder.
Masterlist
#chiefdirector#911#911 imagine#911 fox#9 1 1#buddie#evan buckley#eddie diaz#buck x eddie#eddie diaz x evan buckley#evan buckley imagine#eddie diaz imagine#coma!buck
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maybe
prompt: animal trap
whumpee: eddie diaz
fandom: 911
hi! here's the first of three eddie fics in a row, which i have just realized i wrote as i'm typing this. get ready for a barrage of me beating up my favorite (fictional) firefighter :)
Eddie doesn’t like this place.
It’s an old house, half-collapsed and completely abandoned, sitting in the middle of a large, yellowed yard that is filled with various pieces of debris - old car parts, scrap metal, and the like.
It is also on fire. So far, the flames have not engulfed the entire place, but it’s a matter of minutes. And then, there’s all the dry grass, and beyond that, trees.
He’s in front, pulling the hose towards the house, trudging through the overgrown grass and kicking aside the occasional gas canister or piece of rotted timber.
He doesn’t even see it, it’s buried so deep in the grass, likely having laid there untouched for at least a decade.
He doesn’t know what’s happened, at first, and thinks he’s just twisted his ankle. He stops walking and looks down, and then the pain hits him at full force.
There is a bear trap, rusted but very much functional, clamped onto his foot. Its teeth have punched right through his boot and into his flesh, and it fucking hurts.
He sort of sinks to the ground with a strangled yelp, his right leg stuck out from his body at a strange angle in an attempt not to jostle it.
“Hey, guys?” he calls to his team, who are already hurrying towards him. “I might need a little help over here.”
Hen gets to him first.
“Is that a bear trap?”
He nods and then sucks in a sharp breath as her fingers touch the trap embedded in his foot.
“Jesus,” is Chimney’s contribution. “Who puts a bear trap in their front yard?”
Bobby and Buck hurry past them, picking up the hose Eddie’d dropped as a loud popping sound reminds him that there’s still a fire to be fought.
He focuses on watching the flames and watching Bobby and Buck attack the fire from the outside. Hen and Chim are stabilizing his foot, and it hurts. Every slight movement sends a wave of pain up his entire leg.
He watches Bobby and Buck enter the building, and doesn’t look away until they’re back, the house behind them smoking but no longer aflame.
By the time Bobby and Buck return to them, Hen and Chim have gotten Eddie onto a backboard, prepped for transport in the ambulance they had not expected to be making use of on this particular call.
They get situated in the ambulance, and Eddie reluctantly allows Chim to give him a small amount of morphine. Every second that goes by makes his foot hurt worse. He can feel it throbbing in time with his heartbeat, which is already too fast.
He wants the damn thing off of him, although he knows that they can’t remove it now without potentially causing more damage. But he can feel the teeth digging into his skin and it’s awful and he wants them out.
Chim notices his discomfort, places a hand on his shoulder.
“We’ll get this thing off you in no time,” he says. “How you holding up?”
Eddie shrugs. “Been better, been worse,” he replies, trying to keep his voice even. Fuck, this hurts.
“It’s only a few more minutes. Sure I can’t talk you into a little more of the good stuff? It’ll help, you know. There’s no point in making yourself suffer. It’s only us here.”
“Fine,” Eddie relents, because it does really hurt, “but only a little.”
Chim pumps his fist like he’s just won a prize, and injects a small amount more of morphine into Eddie’s IV bag.
It helps, of course. The pain recedes in his mind, just a little bit, but enough to make a difference.
“What did I tell you?” Chim asks. “We carry this stuff for a reason.”
Eddie raises his hand in mock surrender. Chimney has a point, though Eddie isn’t sure that he wants to admit it. But what’s the point in suffering needlessly? In not accepting something that can ease the pain?
“Maybe you’re right,” he admits.
Maybe there is nothing to be lost from accepting help. Maybe there is nothing to be lost from admitting to pain.
Maybe.
thanks for reading! hope you liked it, love youuuu <3
#whumptober2023#no.11#animal trap#911#fic#eddie diaz#bear trap#medical#my writing#i say things#no good way to tag this i think...#love weird injuries for the pain hate them for organizational purposes
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wow. we’re almost done. what a journey we’ve been on together, jon.
just finished season six and i liked it SO much more than season five. if every episode starred may it still wouldnt be enough for me but im obsessed with the thought that she didnt hesitate for a SECOND to play a moody teenage addict, not to mention the fact that she ate and left not a single crumb. i picture bobby and athena talking about the situation and may piping up from the other room like “i could pretend to be addicted to heroin and infiltrate the cult that probably killed someone” without even looking up from her book. i would die for her.
also, i dont think ive mentioned enough yet how much i adore the couples on this show? so many procedural dramas fish around for plotlines by turning couples against one another, but this show always feels like the couple as a team vs the world’s problems. it’s incredible that they actually give us dedicated scenes to healthy marriages, and like, that’s it. theres no storyline being forwarded, theres no plot point to uncover in the scene. the editor looked at the episode and said “hey, whats the point of bobby and athena going for a run with one another? or this scene of hen and karen watching love island? what does that do for the show?” and the writers said “the point is that they love each other and theyre happy? there does not need to be another reason?” i love that theyre using the space that you get from a multi-season show to really flesh out the relationships in a nuanced way. one of the reasons i really soured on greys anatomy after the early seasons is because they double dosed us with angst and drama. in 911, the writers understand that there’s enough trauma in the jobs theyre doing. they dont need to drop bombs into healthy relationships to keep our attention; the SITUATION keeps our attention, and then the characters keep our INTEREST. if every element of your show is just shock value drama and horrible things happening to beloved characters, the audience gets pretty overwhelmed pretty fast. 911 is a rare example of a long running procedural not falling into the soap-opera pipeline. okay sorry writer rant over. i just really love well written stories.
here we go into season seven. i cannot wait to catch up and i cannot wait to watch evan buckley finally kiss a man! i’ll check back in once im officially done but im so psyched to watch live on thursday with the rest of you guys.
may is a real unsung hero of season six i think. She's so much fun.
the relationships really are were this show soars above the rest. I'm glad you're enjoying that part of it too.
have fun with season seven! the cruise is sooooo well done. I can't wait for you to meet tommy again!
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so far ive finished all first four seasons of 911 (and season 7 but i dont remember much before ep 8 tbh LOL) and so far... i honestly, sorta dont like watching s5. not like that its bad i guess, its just.. so tense, its so stressful, i find no comfort in watching the season, i love action and all but like its so emotionally alot and also i dont like taylor kelly. and maddie leaving?? chim hitting buck?? i cant handle all that.. and AND eddie leaving. just way too much, for one season, and at least for me. i am somebody who really feels all the emotions the characters do (same with pain.. its not very fun) so frankly watching this season has made me just plain ol' stressed, also i rlly like s4 and s6 and it simply has not been able to compete i fear . again its not a bad season but just def not my fav compared to any of them
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writing ask game
👋💛🥰
👋 - Would you choose to live in the world of your book, if you could?
UHMMM for my original book? lol no lmao askjdfkjsd i LOVE my book a lot but like... i love my irl/online friends and family a lot more hahahhaha
like im super attached to my oc quinn... oh and ryan i love him sm but LIKEEEE i'd rather not live in the world without the peeps from here yknow??
now if i could choose a fic.... maybe LMAO *stares at the plethora of fictional dads i'd love to have adopt me*
💛 - What is your favourite trope to write? Is it also your favourite to read?
okay so the first one that came to mind was the seemingly fluffy/innocent scene turning into angst SUPER quickly. it is SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE LMAODSKJFDSKJ i love sending these scenes to ppl and seeing them be like "omg thats so sweeet<33 wHAT THE FUCK"
like for example. the beginning of the scene are two characters going out for icecream and like u think it's gonna be a nice moment but then they get home and find like. idk the bad guy's in their house HAHHAH idk, i can send an example later in dms if u want bc hehe :> def my fav style of scene to write
911 does this all the time omfg it kills me everytime hahhaha i love it though
idk if it'd be my fav thing to read though? idk i get a diff joy from writing it then i do reading/watching it. though i do still love consuming it!!
i'll just shove another fav trope to read and it is protective character hehehehe :>> ALSO BAMF CHARACTERS BAMF CHARACTERS ARE SO SATISFYING TO READ OMFGGGGGG it's so fun... i love the secretly bamf character trope. like the character thinks theyre normal but PSYCH they're actually SUPER powerful... god love that trope. it's why i love the trope where tommy's power is he's immune to other ppl's powers. likeeee him thinking he's powerless but nope hes actually one of the most powerful ppl out there MMM I EAT THAT SHIT UP !!!!!! (also yes i love writing this trope a lot too hahhaha). i also read a fic once where merlin like gets transported to an alt universe where magic is legal and he joins some tournament and he quickly learns he has a *lot* more magic than everyone else like OMGGGG that's one of my fav bamf character things i've ever read...
🥰 - Does your family read your writing?
hehehehe yes they dooo :D
not super often but ive sent my fics to my stepmom/bio mom/uncle/dad before. my stepmom's the one i talk to the most about fics (as she obvi has read and written them herself) and my dad's the least but ive been a writer since pre much as long as ive been able to write and my family's always encouraged it.
#foxieasks#ask games#eileen tag#i do tend to keep my writing to myself but when i posted solace i was really proud and talked a lot about it and my bio mom asked to read i#eueueueueu#and with my stepmom i dont really send my writing bc it's a diff fandom#but w 911 my stepmom asked for me to send her the link of my fic once i finish it so EUEUEUEUEUJ#that actually made me so emotional bc she ranted for like a whole half hour about how much she hates crossovers lmfaooo#but she said she'd still read mine :(#gonna cry sob and wail yall#but yeah it was really funny bc i just had a whole Moment of realising that if i ever post buddie fanfic she WILL find it lmfao#she reads so many fics a day hahahaha#good thing i just write bobby and buck looooooollllllll#though it might be fun to dabble in some romance idk
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Good morning I woke up at 5am with the urgent thought of "Freddie Mercury". That was it. The whole thought
#ive been watching freddie videos for an hour now and um. 911? this man is too cute for his own good#jjfkfjckdh i love him so much ;__;#richie.txt
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Ok so Ive been thinking… What about Ingo w a s/o who used to be a 911 or emergency services dispatcher. They’re rather small, sweet and soft spoken most of the time but when they need to project their voice it can nearly rival Ingo’s voice in volume and professionalism and a drill seargent’s in authority and intensity. Old habits and training die hard, though they no longer hold the position- many things remain ingrained as instinct. They also have no idea how loud or quiet they are being. Kind and compassionate, but no bullshit when the time comes down to it. Every time it happens everyone looks at them and goes. “How did that big noise come out of you you’re so tiny???” The thought to me is just very very funny and I totally see Emmet going “oh god no now there’s two of them” lmao
(Totally not me projecting because I accidentally scared a co-worker today at the retail store I work at when I called out for people to come up front…and she thought I was pissed.. O_O” oops)
Ngl I just speak softer but come from a loud family, I got lungs and it hurts even me.😭
-
-
🔲Ingo🔲
- Your small stature compared to his tall and lanky one was precious in his eyes, you’re so much smaller than the tall subway boss and he adores it. Something about your head on his chest when you two hug makes his heart pound.
- And you’re the sweetest person he could ever ask for. You constantly bring him lunches during work just to make sure he eats! You’re awfully kind, and you get along with his friends and Emmet.
- And to top it off he finds your soft spoken nature compared to his loud one terribly precious and adorable. You speak with a more mellow indoor voice than his naturally loud speaking voice, he adore it and you.
- You don’t work at the station with him, but this particular rush hour has been rough. Depot agents and the bosses themselves are being stretched far too thin. You were just visiting to give him lunch like you always do.
- But with so many people in one place and so many people not obeying the rules, it was hard not getting involved. Ingo greeted you as usual, but it was plain to see how exhausted he was. He was trying to get someone attention as they were standing in front of the yellow line.
- But for once with the exhaustion and commotion his voice was barely loud enough. So you helped.
- “STAND BEHIND THE YELLOW LINE!”
- Your voice boomed and echoed in the station. So loud the people around you covered their ears or snapped their heads to look at you. People jump back and stand behind the yellow line.
- Ingo is staring at you in pure shock. You have never yelled, not like that, yet your voice drowned out all the sound, overpowering it and getting peoples attention.
- Emmet watched it all through the cameras. His hat covering his face to muffle his groan.
- “Oh sweet Arceus there’s two of them, what did I do to deserve this?” Emmet sinking down his swivel chair, regretting not being absorbed in the womb.
- Ingo and even a few other people are confused, concerned, and impressed. Such a loud commanding voice came from you, someone so small and soft looking.
- That loud sound came from you.
- “Are you okay my love?” You question, but Ingo can only look at you in what you can only describe as awe.
- “I never knew you could get to such volume! That’s truly impressive, bravo!”
- You simply chuckle “it’s just me, now have you had lunch yet? Or do I need to yell at you too?”
- You hand him a lunch box that he had forgotten this morning.
- “I can already tell you, you haven’t taken a lunch break, so get to it!”
- Ingo stiffens up “of course!” Both your voices not echoing in the crowd. You have restored his energy and voice.
- Walking passed the surveillance room you can faintly hear muffled but clearly upset whining. A passenger must be doing something bad again for Emmet to be sounding like that.
- Emmet, now on the floor, can only rethink his life choices. How did it end up like this? How had his life come down to this? Stuck is a verrry loud brother and now his brother’s verrrry loud partner, will he ever know peace?
#long post#pokemon#pokemon imagines#pokemon x reader#pokémon#pokemon fluff#pokemon ingo#pokemon ingo x reader#pokemon headcanons#subway boss ingo
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Some more brainstorming for the demon reaper au ~Bambi
———
*Unholy grain*
Dirt, worms, rot, decay, cold, cold, cold, cold, J̷̲̏o̵͔͛ḧ̶͔̦͒ń̶̤̗, dig, dig, J̴̩̚O̶̯̓H̴̨̏N̷̢̓ dig, cold, F̴̧͕͚̻͇̯͇̤̠̃̓̂̐͋͆͐͐̃̀̐͜͠F̴̫̔R̶̢̓E̵̛͓E̸̥͘Z̶̟̕I̸͙̚N̸̝̓G̶̱̉
Jack: *jolts awake feeling the wind on his face and through his hair* wh-what?… *looks down to see a shovel in his hand, a small hole at his feet, and the wheat field around him* what the fuck?… *looks back at the house to see his bedroom light on in the window, and a shadowy figure staring at him through it* … *throws the shovel to the ground and storms towards the house to see the front door open* Ive fucking had it, I’m done. *stomps inside grabbing his coat* IM DONE DO YOU HEAR ME?!
*creaking floorboards*
Jack: YOU WIN ALRIGHT?! YOU CAN KEEP THIS STUPID FUCKING PLACE!! *grabs his keys and turns around to see a man standing there, his age, tan skin flat and lifeless, dark hollows where his eyes should be and a bullet hole in his forehead*
Reaper: Ỳ̶͙̃o̶̢̼̕ù̵͕̫̂ ̵̧͇̿͐d̴̩͓̿̓i̵̹͖̎d̶̹̀ ̴̙͆̏t̶̥̝̚͠h̷͎̉̿į̶̭̽̌s̵̭̍͠ ̷̠̀͜t̵̢̘̄̉ö̵̯́͋ ̷̱̪́m̴̦̊͆e̵̫̓̉ ̴̛̘͂J̴̝̫͊o̴̙̪͊͝h̷͈̔n̶̨̆ä̵̞͖́͊t̵̡̾h̶̡̻̔o̵̯͂ṉ̸̋
Jack: … *falls back fainting from shock, hitting his head hard on the staircase*
*The next morning*
???: Jack?! JACK?! Oh god no!! Fareeha!! Call 911!!
Jack: *groans opening his eyes to see a familiar friendly face looking over him* Cole?…
Cole: oh thank god you’re alive!! Stay with me now help is on the way- FAREEHA HES ALIVE!!
Jack: *looks past Cole to see a young woman maybe a year or so younger than him and cole* … *slowly looks back up to see the man from last night standing behind his friend, red lights in his dark eyes staring holes into his soul* my dad did it… he did it…
Cole: what? Your dad did what??
Jack: something… *watches the future slowly twist his shape back into the demon whose been tormenting him this whole time* bad… *passes out again*
*a few hours later*
Jack: *sitting upright in his hospital bed quietly staring at the massive bill staring back at him* …
Cole: *suddenly peers into the room* hey… glad to see your up…
Jack: …I wish you’d of just left me to die…
Cole: hm? *looks at the bill* oh that’s where that went! *takes it from him* you don’t need to worry bout that. I got you covered… hope you don’t mind me listing myself as your next of kin. Will make the whole insurance thing much easier considering I was the one who brought you in and all-
Jack: HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO PAY YOU BACK FOR THAT?! I’ve got no money! No job! My house is fucking haunted by a demon that’s been trying to kill me every chance he can get and I-… *feels the bandage around his head* I I’m not crazy, it’s not from me hitting my head I… he said my dad did something to him… he…
Cole: …what did he?… look like?…
Jack: you?… you believe me?
Cole: that depends… what did he look like?…
Jack: tan skin… curly brown hair, neat under cut-
Cole: nice beard? Your height? Bought our age? Wearing jeans and a hoodie?…
Jack: …you… you’ve seen him too?
Cole: few times… he was the other farm hand working for your pa when I started there, then one day he just left. Was told he was unhappy with the wages and just, up and took off one day.
Jack: …What else do you know cassidy?…
Cole: …I know that weird lookin deer I told you about isn’t actually a deer… definitely not a goat either… but it’s certainly not human… not anymore.
Jack: *looks past him nervously at the cross hanging above the door as it slowly turns upside down* …I’m cold…
#overwatch#overwatch shitposts#cole cassidy#gabriel reyes#jack morrison#reaper#demon!reaper#demon!reaper au#demon reaper au
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Dr. Husband
word count: 5278
pairing: doctor steve rogers x wife reader
warnings: talks about heat exhaustion? there’s nothing graphic, but if the hospital theme bothers you, then this isn’t the fic to read!
prompts (from @/fluffyomlette): “Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?” and “You’re not supposed to pick favourites, doc.” “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”
a/n: this just popped in my head about a month ago and i had to write it for no explainable reason. i really couldn’t think of a title oops. if you all have a better idea please tell me so i can change it lol.
please excuse any mistakes!
Summer was finally in full force, blazing sun rays beamed down on the dry ground and once gorgeous flowers drooped in dire need of water. Sounds of children playing outside, pool water splashing as a result of cannonballs, while lawnmowers whirled to life and laughter from the watching wives resounded this afternoon. In your neighborhood, it was tradition that the women would get together every other Saturday and have drinks in the cul-de-sac while their husbands had unsaid competitions of manicuring their yards. Unfortunately for you, your husband was a doctor and that meant little time for him to do the yard, and you didn’t have children at the moment that could go play with the others. The women who were your neighbors were a bit too picky choosy for your taste. They only seemed to bond over their children and sitting around home, two of which you didn’t have or do, so you weren’t ever truly invited to their day-drinking. It was actually fine with you as these people were so hot n’cold and you were just tired of trying to fit in with faux friends. You had plenty of true friends and then your husband who was a child of his own.
For three weekends so far, Steve had told you he’d cut the lawn and as much as you wanted to believe him, you knew that he was so exhausted from work and being on call a majority of the time, that he would never find the hours to do so. That was okay with you because what he did was important and you weren’t gonna be on his ass like the feds about the yard when you could easily do it yourself. It wasn’t like he was just sitting around, no, he was working so you just decided to cut the lawn yourself, something you’d done plenty of times before.
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Unfortunately the day you chose to do so, the sun was out blazing and a simple walk out the door was a trip to an off-brand hell. Instead of making a wise decision and waiting to cut the grass in the evening, you chose the latter and decided to cut the grass at noon, the very time the sun was in full shine.
Dressed in attire for yard work and having already eaten a sandwich for lunch, you headed out the garage door to tackle the mess there in hopes of finding the push mower within. Steve’s father, Joseph, had given you both a lot of his lawn equipment, but the riding mower was broken at the moment and you (again) stupidly decided to push mow the almost two acre lawn. It took a good half hour to get the darned thing out on the driveway and while doing so, you noticed that your neighbors, the wives to be exact, had decided to come out for one of their occasional and somehow spontaneous get-togethers which consisted of unattended kids drawing with chalk as their mothers sat a few feet away dipping their feet in the small splash pool. You often found the idea both inventive and funny.
For only a second more did you let your attention linger on the group before returning back to fill the lawn mower with gasoline. After doing so, you tossed on a pair of sunglasses and went full steam ahead with cutting the grass, disregarding the rising, and very unsafe, temperature.
About an hour in, the temp had already risen to be above 100 and something no one should have spent any longer than half an hour in. Steve had always said you were stubborn at all the wrong times and boy was he right. You had just finished up half of the front yard and quarter of the back yard. It was mad that you were actually thinking about pushing mowing two acres, especially in this unruly weather.
You were so determined and when your mind was set on something, you let all other matters slip away, including regards for your own health. The unusual amount of sweat on your skin seemed to go unnoticed by you as well did the growing headache.
Finally, about half an hour later, more of the backyard was finished and your inner saboteur continued to influence your goals.
“Just finish this half and you will be close enough to the end,” translated into “Just finish the whole yard, you might as well since you are this close.”
This was the worst mindset to have, especially with the given circumstances as you had been out here for at least two hours, no drinks of any sort, no real breaks aside from fueling the lawn mower, and no cares to the worsening symptoms that now included noticeable dizziness.
The lawn mower eventually ran out of gas and you went to refill it once more. Making your way through the front yard, your unknown adrenaline rush came to an end along with the machine’s power. It wasn’t until your vision started to star and blur that you finally noticed your decline in health, but by then it was too late and you were on the plush and groomed grass of the front yard. Ironically, you noticed the fruits of your labor since you were currently laying on it.
Five minutes had passed since your drop to the ground and one of the ladies out in the court, Genevieve, noticed your figure, quite the contrast to the viridescent grass. Despite that she thought you were “demented” for cutting the grass yourself, she knew you weren’t unhinged, so to say, that you would just lay on the grass as it would serve no purpose to do so. She didn’t take you for a nature lover either so this was not normal.
Genevieve squatted down in the lawn, her sparkly sandals reflecting in the sea of green. Unknowing of what to do, the woman in a panic threw the back of her hand to your forehead and you burned hotter than a metal kettle. By time she stood, the other ladies had gathered around and were now circling in mass hysteria as if they were staring at a dead body and not your unconscious, yet breathing frame. Many long seconds later, Priscilla, who was Genevieve’s closest friend and who despised you as much as you did her, decided to call 911. The other moms then left to go usher their children away from what they described as a “traumatic experience” and back to their large homes for some sort of last minute luncheon.
Eventually, an ambulance arrived in your usually quiet neighborhood, something that was clearly displayed as almost every neighbor popped their heads out of their houses in sheer curiosity. Their nosey nature often bothered you but was normally put behind some sort of service act such as a baked cake or bottle of wine just to be invited into your house. You didn’t miss the way your neighbors would study your house when they were finally welcomed in. Steve was much better at hiding his cross nature and would return some compassion of his own while you struggled to bottle your annoyance and sealed it with a forced smile. As luck would have it though, you were knocked out and couldn’t give them a piece of your mind for staring because heavens know this would’ve been the last straw and no one could have stopped your rant.
It was when you were in the red wagon and being attended over by paramedics that you noticed you were on the way to somewhere that wasn’t home.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
At the hospital, the doctor and nurses hydrated you back to reality and suddenly you appeared in a bed, a doctor standing at the side with a clipboard in hand allowing your mind to draw up a million conclusions before you remembered what you had done last.
The doctor spoke a fast introduction and he then moved on to fill you in on what had happened as confusion still painted your face although when he told you Genevieve’s account of what led up to your ultimate passing out, you visibly cringed at such carelessness that ended up bringing you here. Hundreds of falls, burns, and bruises thanks to your clumsy nature, but this had to be the one thing to send you to the hospital. Some sort of twisted joke it sure was.
Moving to roll a stool to your bedside, the doctor passed you a cold bottle of water before bringing his eyes to give your IV a quick check as a nurse had put it in not too long before you awoke.
“Luckily, Mrs. Rogers, your neighbors found you in time and you only experienced severe heat exhaustion. Had you prolonged your exposure anymore you could have experienced a heat stroke. For now, I ask that you rest and I’ll come back to release you.” The doctor expressed his reassurance with a kind grin before walking out of the plain and boxy room that could make one go insane with its lack of liveliness.
Staring out the open doorway and into the empty hallway, you knew that Steve worked on this very floor, but honestly what were the chances that he’d see you? At one point he’d eventually find out about today’s mishaps, but that was a problem for later when you were more conscious and caring. Letting your worries temporarily go (something that was only happening thanks to your fatigued mind), you slightly shifted into a somewhat “comfortable” position on the stiff bed and rough cotton sheets. Albeit that there was an IV uncomfortably stuck in your arm, you fell into a much needed slumber.
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Lunch break at last.
That was all that had been on Steve's mind for the past three hours which had been extremely hectic. Granted, he was used to this fast-paced workplace having worked here for almost a decade, but today was absolutely out of control with injured patients coming in left and right. It wasn’t some sort of bad omen, rather just an unlucky day for many Steve had assumed. He had just finished up with a pediatric case and was now on his way to enjoy the leftover baked chicken salsa that you had made just for him last night and packed for his lunch this morning. You knew how busy his week had been and you took the liberty to make his favorite dinner dish to compensate for the work that had left such a toll on him. A smile immediately overtook his face when he walked in the house last night and that’s when you decided that you would gladly cook anything he’d like over and over again just to see that look of adoration. As Steve held you in his arms at that moment, he kept thinking how he really didn’t deserve you and little did he know, the same thought ran in your own mind. Yet, in reality, you both went together like a puzzle piece to a puzzle. Without the piece, the picture would never be completed and without the other, you and Steve would have never enjoyed life to the fullest.
Strutting down the never ending hall, Steve passed many doors, some he had been in just a mere hour or two ago. As he walked past an open door and did a double take as he saw a patient asleep, but no sign of anyone else in the room. If he were that patient, he’d want the door shut for some privacy, something which the man highly valued, so he crossed the short distance and closed the door. He didn’t mean to look at the patient for so long as they weren’t in his care and that would be awfully creepy, but Steve could help but do a double take and noticed that the familiar face was, in fact, you. From first glance it didn’t even look like you and that was coming from the man who had studied your face just to commit it to his memory. In a loving way, of course.
He slowly walked in your room, taking in the image before him of you lying in a hospital bed. His mind had assumed that the worst thing had happened to you and for a moment, Steve’s breathing ceased and his legs were glued to the ground. As his eyes scanned over your body again, his fears were calmed when there were no visible wounds and you just seemed to be resting. Although as a doctor, he unfortunately knew anything could be possible.
Hunching over the top half of the bed, Steve smoothed your stray hairs away from your forehead and placed an awakening kiss there. You were a light sleeper a majority of the time and your spouse knew that this small action would wake, but not startle you. Every night he’d come home from work and do the same thing except then he knew you were safe and sound. Now, he was just filled with uncertainty.
“What happened?” Those were the only words he was able to get out and you gave him an answer, just not one that he was looking for. You were already getting defensive and he could sense it.
“Genevieve saw me pass out in the yard and overreacted, Steven. You know they all don’t exactly have good track records with medicine.” You rolled your eyes at the last statement remembering how your neighbors have often nonchalantly tried to get Steve to diagnose them when it came to something as simple as a scrape. Then again, all of your neighbors were in the business industry so that explained their lack of medical knowledge or at least that is the excuse you drew up for them.
“Nice try, (y/n), but you do have a medical chart and it’s over there,” Steve pointed over his shoulder and towards the doorway where a plastic chart holder sat mounted on the cream wall. “You didn’t just pass out, and the neighbors did not overreact. They did the right thing despite how much I know you hate that. Now, either you tell me the truth or I go read that file.” His tone was serious, but not condescending. Hidden in his eyes was a tad sprinkle of mischief.
Stubborn as ever, you didn’t respond and folded your arms over your chest in a form of defiance.
Against what is probably legal, Steve picked up your medical chart to read what had happened as you wouldn’t disclose the information to him. Your husband was a worry-wart sometimes and while you appreciated how he doctored you when you were sick, he could be a bit overbearing. A great example would be the time when you were cooking dinner and burned your forearm when taking the casserole out of the oven.
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“Babe, dinner is ready!”
The timer on the oven was currently beeping and you walked towards it. Turning off both the oven and the timer, you grabbed a short oven mitt and reached in to grab the casserole dish off the top rack. As you did so, you lifted your arm a bit too high and hit the side of your forearm on the interior roof of the oven. The temperature was ridiculously hot and the pain was immensely strong that you immediately pulled your arm back, the casserole long forgotten.
Steve came running in at your string of curses and came in to see you holding your arm and hissing a bit as if that would relieve the pain. He walked closer to you as you leaned up against the island. Your husband delicately took your arm in his hand, raking his eyes over the burn that was soon to blister.
After a short inspection, Steve placed his other hand on the small over your back and led you to the sink, flipping on the cold water and running it over your burn. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve could see you squeezing your own eyes shut in pain.
“I know, sweetheart, it hurts, I’m sorry.” He continued to rinse your scalded skin, but turned his head to sweetly kiss your temple.
A few minutes passed and Steve was content with the rinse job as you had finally opened your eyes, even engaging in some of your jokes that were always said at the wrong time. From the kitchen, the man guided you down the hallway, through your bedroom and into your joined bathroom. He sat you on the edge of the bathroom tub while rummaging through your unorganized medicine cabinet. It was barely ever touched and when it was, it was often in a state of panic hence the messiness of it. Fortunately, Steve found a tube of bacitracin and some cotton dressings from God knows how long ago. At this point he could care less and would rather have you cared for.
You curiously watched him as he dug through the cabinet and a loving smile grew on your face. How lucky were you to have this man. You were really appreciative of him in times like these especially.
Said man returned and crouched before you, distracting you from your thoughts as he softly grabbed your hand once more.
The doctor worked his magic and in no time was your arm wrapped up and lathered in ointment.
“Wow Doc, you did a great job.” Steve was still holding your hand as you quietly giggled in content. He placed a kiss on top of your knuckles and peered up at you with those gorgeous (and borderline seductive) sapphire eyes. Chuckling, Steve murmured against your skin, “Only for my favorite patient.”
As always, you decided to play along with Steve’s playful banter. “You’re not supposed to pick favorites, doc.”
Your husband knew your clumsy nature and seemed to have the perfect response, “Trust me, if I didn’t, you’d be dead by now.”
With your non-injured hand you went to hit his shoulder and he grabbed it in faux hurt.
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“You know, Dr. Rogers, that is a violation and I can actually report you for it.” You lifted your line of sight to see Steve who looked back at you with his lips pressed in a fine line. He shook his head disapprovingly after reaching the end of the report and now looked like he was going to sit back in the seat beside your bed.
“Hey, what are you doing? They already examined me and I am about to get released.” The man ignored you and instead leaned over the flimsy bed railing. Steve rubbed his hands together in a warming manner before placing two fingers on your next in an attempt to find your pulse. He unfortunately carried that common trait among doctors of having hands that were colder than that of a penguin’s ass. You knew very well this pulse check was useless as you were in conditional health and that he was probably doing this to annoy you.
“Well I like to do a check of my own. It never hurts to get a second opinion, darling.” Blue eyes squinted at you and you returned the patronizing gesture.
The free hand that was not on your neck had found its way to hold your own hand and when your husband pulled back, he wore a smug smirk on his lips.
“Your pulse is a little high. Is it because I’m holding your hand?”
“You know, your shoulders must hurt from carrying such a big head all the time.” Steve had the nerve to laugh at your elementary grade insult and even though you weren’t really mad, your face would have said otherwise to anyone else.
“So I’ll take that as a yes then, wifey.” He then quickly dropped to press a chaste kiss to your lips before releasing your hand and sitting down in the chair.
Looking to the clock on the wall, you focused your vision on the distant numbers to read that it was most likely Steve’s lunch break.
“Are you spending your lunch break with me?” Your tone was now sweet and soft as it usually was towards Steve and his heart leaped at the progress being made.
“It seems that I am. ‘Was really looking forward to that chicken salsa, though.” A heap of blonde hair rested on your hand that Steve had now laid his head against, still holding tight with both of his own hands. You giggled at his dramatics and ruffled a free hand through his greasy hair.
“I haven’t eaten anything, you think you could spend your lunch break with me?” His head popped up at this and his face held the eagerness of an energetic puppy.
“Of course, sweetheart. We can head to the cafeteria. Hopefully they have something good for my girl.” It was now your turn for your heart to swell at his words. Not even a second later though, the sentimental moment was replaced with Steve’s usual sarcastic humor.
“See, I love you so much that I am willing to sacrifice my precious chicken salsa just to have lunch with you. You should be grateful to have me as your husband.” Steve’s pearly whites beamed at you in a cheesy smile and you gave a dismissive wave of your hand.
The two of you talked and enjoyed the rare time together for the next ten minutes until Steve noticed you shifting to sit up against the pillows. He thought nothing of it until suddenly you were throwing your legs over the side of the bed and making to get out of the so called cotton prison.
Waving a finger, Steve tutted you and hurriedly scooped your legs back onto the bed. You looked absolutely peeved and Steve knew it was from the way that he was treating you like a child or better yet, a patient. His wife, the fighter and he, the doctor. Two unlikely personalities but ones that worked best together nonetheless. This made Steve laugh whenever he thought about it.
“You can get up the minute you get released by the doc, okay?” Caring eyes now gave you a pleading look and you felt a small tinge of guilt crawling up your chest at how mean you had been to your husband when he has only been trying to help.
A knock on the wooden door signaled a visit from the one person you had been waiting on for what seemed to be ages.
“Speak of the devil.” Muttering the phrase so only Steve could hear you gave him an “I told you so” kind of look.
The Doctor looked up from the same clipboard as earlier to greet you once he made it in through the doorway, but he was surely surprised by the figure sitting in the chair beside you.
“Oh Dr. Rogers, what a surprise! So this is your wife I presume? I guess I should have put two and two together,” Your doctor of the moment laughed with Steve who added in a chuckle or two of his own.
“Yep, this is Mrs. Rogers!” Steve didn’t look at you, but lovingly squeezed your hand that was resting against his, “We are quite the handful so I am surprised you couldn’t tell that she was my other half.” A snicker ended his words and you couldn’t help but do the same.
Once the short introductions were over, the doctor walked over to do a speedy final exam on what was necessary as Steve watched from the sidelines still getting used to the idea of not being the one doing the examination. He hadn’t been in any other position in the hospital for such a long time that it took some time to get used to the fact that he wasn’t the one diagnosing and rather waiting for the diagnosis.
The doctor pulled away from hovering over you and now sat back on his rolling leather stool, scooting his way over to the computer and desk.
“Well I must say, (y/n), that you definitely live up to some of the stories your husband tells.” The other man in the white coat finished up his typing before turning back around to face you and his colleague.
“Ah, I hope he’s giving me some good street cred,” You teased and from the side you saw Steve shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.
“I assure you that they were all good things.” With that, the doctor formally released you, walking out of the room to give you some time to redress and such.
You went to get out of the bed for the nth time, but finally succeeded. Your legs felt a bit wobbly upon the first step, and Steve noticed this. He came up to stand beside you and placed a hand on your lower back with the other out in front in case you did fall. Placing your own hand on his scrub clad chest to steady yourself, you silently thanked him with a tender pat.
With Steve’s guidance, you went to change out of the wretched paper gown and into your shorts and shirt from working outside. It wasn’t exactly the most flattering outfit but at this moment you could care less for the only thing on your mind was getting out of this room.
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The ride in the elevator seemed to move slower than a snail and almost stopped on every floor. You were so crammed by the time you were only on the fifth floor that you used this as an excuse to lean up against Steve. He rubbed your arm and enveloped you in a side hug and planted a kiss on your head. The two of you never cared for PDA but neither of you had realized the onlooking eyes.
You found it mildly comedic when some of your fellow passengers seemed disgusted that a doctor was handling a patient in such a way. It was definitely gonna be a joke for later on.
Eventually you made it to the first floor and begrudgingly pushed yourself out of Steve’s warm embrace when the smell of garlic bread hit your nose.
“Huh, they never cook spaghetti around here. They must know we have a special guest today.” Steve pressed his lips against your ear to jokingly whisper to you as he ushered you out the elevator doors.
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Standing in line with a plastic tray at the cafeteria made you have flashbacks to middle school lunch and you shuddered at the thought. The memories played back in your mind like a movie and were interrupted (much to your relief) when Steve tapped your shoulder.
“You want this?” Steve held one of the plastic salad containers in hand, the white sleeve of his lab coat draped on top of the other stacked bowls in the open air freezer.
You nodded and he placed it on your tray, slightly bumping your hips as he walked past to grab a drink.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
For a good twenty minutes, you and Steve sat in comfortable silence in one of the booths until clicking clogs came closer and closer. So close that a shadow loomed over your table conveying that someone was here to speak.
“Dr. Rogers, I don’t think it’s entirely wise of you to have lunch with your patient. Actually, it’s quite inappropriate.” The older woman in burgundy scrubs pointed her gaze to the hospital band on your wrist and both you and Steve started laughing upon noticing. So that explained all the weird looks.
“Oh no, Dr. Williams! This is my wife (y/n),” You politely beamed up at the woman and set out your hand for a handshake. At this, her unenthusiastic expression changed to one of apologetic and she shook your hand with much grief as Steve continued on with his introductions.
“(y/n), this is Dr. Williams. She is the medical director for my department.”
“Wow! I’ve heard many wonderful things about you, Dr. Williams.” She went to return the praise before a beeping in her coat pocket signaled the time for her departure.
“Duty calls, but I’ll have you know this one here never shuts up about you. It was nice to finally put a face to a name, (y/n),” You glanced at Steve and noticed he was sheepishly grinning and turning redder by the second. So much so that he was hiding his face in his palms.
““I hope you have a quick recovery as well, hon!” The standing woman gave you a nod of her head and then turned to your husband whose face had finally regained its color. “As for you Steven, I will see you later. You have another resident to deal with today.” Dr. Williams sighed at the thought, waving you both goodbye and soon enough she was out the double doors of the lunch room.
“Ooh babe you’ll have to tell me how all of that goes.” Spooning some spaghetti into your mouth, you goofily raised your eyebrows at Steve.
“Trust me, it is not fun at all. When I was a resident, I would have never acted like some of the people I’ve trained!”
You snorted, “Uh huh. Sureee.”
“No really,” Steve’s eyes widened and he leaned over the table like he was sharing some sort of secret with you, “The audacity of some of these people.”
“I think you are just an old man now, Stevie, and can’t keep up with the times.” The blond screwed up his eyes and stuck his tongue out at you.
“Oh hush and finish your food, Miss. ‘I am soooo young’.” A napkin flew at Steve’s chest and the two of you laughed at the childish antics that had just ensued.
Just as both of your styrofoam containers became empty, an unpleasant ringer sounded in Steve’s pocket, just like the one of Dr. Williams’s departure. Once he gave the screen a swift peek, he looked back up at you with a long face.
“You gotta go?” Golden strands bobbed up and down as Steve nodded and you grabbed his hand.
“It’s alright! Thank you for spending the time with me today, though. I really appreciate it. Thanks for putting up with me, you know how I am sometimes.”
The larger hand encompassing yours gave a sympathetic squeeze.
“Oh darling, anytime, you know that. If you need anything, call me okay? I will try my best to answer.”
The temporary silence that filled the room was now replaced by annoying buzzing from the device that Steve had silenced for the moment. He irritability took it out and shoved it back in his pocket. Normally this didn’t bother Steve because this was his job, but since you were here, having just been sick, he wanted nothing more than to drop everything and focus on you. Knowing that was impossible, he tried his best to juggle both yet it seemed that the world wasn’t gonna wait on him.
“Do you want me to call Ma to come get you? I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. Her and Dad love your company.” For the moment, Steve appeared to look like he was ignoring the constant beeping, but you knew internally he was already out of the cafeteria and sprinting down the halls.
“No no, I’m fine, honey,” The doctor stared at you as if he didn’t believe you. “I mean it, Steve. I am fine. Now shoo.”
Dr. Rogers shared another laugh with you before pecking your lips and running out the room shouting, “I’ll see you later!”
He really was too good for this world.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
a/n: i really enjoyed writing for doctor!steve, so if anyone has any ideas that involves him and that you’d like me to write, send it in! <3
taglist (is open!): @memissbee @tricereads @buckybarnesthehotshot @bval-1 @tonystankschild @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @turtoix @kelbabyblue @jakiki94 @aubreeskailynn @calirindo @lady-elena-adeline @siriuslyslyslytherin @sushiinmidnight @patzammit @iwik3it
#Steve Rogers#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers headcanon#steve rogers x y/n#chris evans fanfiction#chris evans characters#doctor steve rogers#doctor steve rogers x wife reader
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WIP Wednesday
In a Jack Johnson kind of writing mood this morning so FFO is getting some attention finally instead of anything MReyder. Cut for length. Tagging @tkwritesdumbassassins @radio-chatter @quietborderline @elisela or anyone who wants to play along for some WIP Wednesday output. No obligations as always.
From: Family, Familia, ‘Ohana Chapter 7, Buck POV
Fandoms: 911, H50, SWAT
Pairings, Buddie, McDanno, Hondo/Deacon, other canon pairings mentioned
Other tags: First draft, Crossover/Alternative universe, NavySeal!Buck
The heart monitor’s beeps still made him want to jump even though he’d been trading in and out with a few HPD members that Steve trusted for days. Buck had stubbornly insisted on taking the night watch tonight, thinking he could grab a few hours at Noshimuri’s bedside. He was used to sleeping light anyways—every time the nurses came in he woke instantly and was alert. Buck would watch them adjust something on the IV pole or swap out a medication bag that was almost empty at the last moment, asking them what they were hanging and verifying the labels said the same and ask them to explain it’s function.
Google and him were best friends about medication names at this point.
It wasn’t that they didn’t trust the nurses—it was that Adam Noshimuri hadn’t woken up yet and he’d been pretty badly banged up. Buck’d had a few moments where he’d mentally debated calling Maddie but he’d decided that was a terrible idea as she’d start asking too many questions about why he needed to know about ICU medications. Hen and Chimney were also nonstarters as he didn’t want to tell them where he was. Eddie had confessed that most of the medications weren’t his specialty but he’d helped answer a few of Buck’s questions the first day and asked how Noshimuri was every time they talked which was almost daily now.
Buck’s day revolved around those calls if he was being honest.
In a few hours, he’d call Eddie to say good morning—the time difference working in his favor so he could check in with Eddie before the day really got going and was about the time that he was relieved so he could go have a swim with Steve. Eddie didn’t have much to say the last week other than he’d been off and Buck got the impression he’d been stuck in his head too much.
Eddie had insisted he was fine but when pressed he’d finally admitted he was working on being fine but talking to Buck was helping.
That small confession meant that Buck had to make time to talk to Eddie every day.
It was helping him too.
Even if they weren’t talking about the things they really needed to.
By mutual agreement they seemed to have put off talking about their prior arguments. Buck was waiting until he was physically with Eddie—there were some things he just couldn’t talk to him over the phone about. He needed to see Eddie’s reaction, be able to… he didn’t know. Touch Eddie? The urge to wrap himself around Eddie was something he’d been denying himself from about two days after meeting the man seemed to always be at the forefront of his mind every time they talked—and it was talking. Mostly. He was FaceTiming with them at night so he could help put Christopher to bed. Eddie usually looked like he needed to sleep so Buck just told him he’d talk to him in the morning and it got him that little curve at the corners of Eddie’s mouth that was a smile he liked to think of just his.
Having Eddie back in his life—even just scraps like this—was what he’d been needing for months. Buck had agreed to talk to Mamo, a Hawaiian kahuna, at Steve’s insistence. Was actually supposed to talk with the man later today he realized as he looked at the clock above Noshimuri’s bed.
#ffo#Family familia ‘ohana#911/hawaii 5-0 crossover#navy seal Evan “Buck” Buckley#buddie#mcdanno#wip wednesday#first draft#tag you’re it
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Then & Now (Ethan x MC)
Summary: A particularly difficult case forces Ethan to confront a blast from his past
A/N: This popped into my head and I had too much fun writing it. I will loosely incorporate some of the themes from book 3 and make them better, but this is mostly an AU.
A/N 2: Yes I’m writing another multipart fic while actively ignoring my others. The muses spoke and I had no choice in the matter. Enjoy!
~v~
“Would you like some more coffee, Dr. Ramsey?”
Whatever line he was reading in his textbook blurs as does his vision. Ethan looks up at the face of the newest member of the team, a young resident, Isabelle. He takes the cup, not missing the way her eyes light up as he does so. What is it with residents and their incessant need to kiss-ass and be people pleasers?
“Thank you, Dr. Proctor.”
“Of course! I figured we’d need all the caffeine we could get our hands on with this case.”
Ethan doesn’t respond with words, only offering the young woman a hum in acknowledgement. Instead his eyes land on his coworker, Harper Emery. “Harper, has your team been able to come up with anything new?”
“Nothing,” Harper replies with a resigned sigh.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
“I’ve run as many tests, MRIs and CT scans as I could, and none of them came back with anything conclusive. We’re officially back to square one.”
Ethan hasn’t been this stumped in years. A week ago, a patient came to Edenbrook after waking up without being able to feel anything from the waist down. A young, relatively healthy 25 year old with no extraordinary medical history, no recent reports of any TBI, nothing. He assumed with Harper–one of the nation’s greatest neurosurgeons–on the case, that this would be a simple fix.
As painful as it is to admit, he’s wrong.
They’ve gotten nowhere with the case, they’ve made no progress, and to make matters worse, he has Leland Bloom and the board breathing down his neck because it’s been years since the team has spent more than a week on a case, so a week with no news reflects poorly on them—on him, as the team’s leader specifically.
The last member of the team, Tobias, clears his throat. “Did he ever mention getting into a fight? Maybe he took a hit to the head, and just doesn’t want to admit it?”
“Maybe, but like I said, none of the CT scans or MRIs showed me anything out of the norm,” Harper says. “I can always ask him again.”
“That’d be ideal–”
Ethan’s sentence is cut off as the door to their office is thrown open, and in walks Leland. “Hello, team!”
The most senior members of the team stay silent, but Isabelle gives a slight wave. “Hello, Mr. Bloom.”
“Dr. Proctor,” Leland greets in turn. “Nice to know at least one of you has manners.”
Ethan checks the time on his watch. “What are you doing here, Bloom?”
“Last time I checked, I owned this entire building and I didn’t need to ask your permission to be here.”
“We’re nearing midnight,” Ethan adds. “What are you still doing here, and not at home? I’m sure Mrs. Bloom would enjoy seeing you.”
Leland ignores the mention of his wife Caroline, pretending like she wasn’t mentioned at all. “I just stopped by your patient’s room to see how he was doing. And then I decided to drop by to check in with you guys. Are there any updates on the Miller case?”
“I’m not discussing patient information with you,” Ethan says.
“Well, I am your boss.”
“And until you go to medical school, graduate, become a doctor at this hospital, and join in on this case, I don’t have to tell you anything. You may own this hospital, but I do not have to discuss my patients with you.”
“Okay, so you guys have no new information,” Leland concludes.
Ethan pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance, this conversation giving him a headache even though it just started. “We were actually in the middle of a brainstorming session before we were interrupted, so if we could have some privacy again, that would be much appreciated.”
Ethan’s tone causes Leland to drop the veneer of kindness, the smile dropping from his face only for a second before he catches it. He looks away and sniffs haughtily. “Fine. I’ll check in with the patient tomorrow for a status update, since it’s clear I won’t be getting it from my employees. Thankfully, his father and I go way back.”
“I can’t stop the patient from divulging his own information.”
Leland glances around the room one more time, his gaze lingering on Ethan a bit longer than it does on the other occupants. “Goodnight, doctors.”
Once Leland leaves, Harper turns towards Ethan. “You act like it would literally kill you to be nice to him.”
“Be nice for what? Bloom thinks we owe him undying loyalty and infinite ass kissing because he bought the hospital. He’s pulled a lot of nonsense since moving into this position, but he’s not worth breaking any laws over. My patients deserve their privacy.”
“And I agree, but the extra hostility isn’t needed. The last thing we need is World War 3 with you and Bloom tearing down the hospital. Just be nice.”
“Okay, are we getting back to work or calling it a night?”
The rest of the team glances around each other. Pulling an all-nighter with Ethan while he’s in a foul mood sounds like a nightmare.
“We’re calling it a night.”
~v~
Ethan ends up falling asleep in the office, finally dozing off around 5 o'clock in the morning, surrounded by a mountain of books and the harsh light of his computer screen. The sleep is short lived though as the sound of his pager wakes him up.
He jumps up with a start, and checks the time on his watch before checking his pager. He only managed to get two hours of sleep, but he can’t dwell on that. The page is a 911 alert to his patient’s room.
“Shit!”
He takes off to the 4th floor where his patient is housed, thankful that the early morning hour means the hospital is not yet flooded with people.
Isabelle, Harper, and a nurse are already in the room when Ethan finally makes it. “What’s going on?”
“He had a seizure,” Harper explains.
“How long did it last?”
“Around 50 seconds. We administered lorazepam into his IV.”
“Could this be a new symptom?” Valencia asks. “Or something else entirely?”
Harper shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m going to take him down to radiology for another CT scan. Hopefully this next one can actually yield some results.”
Ethan nods. “That sounds like a plan. In the meantime, Dr. Proctor, add seizures onto the list of symptoms to broaden our search criteria. Maybe that’ll help.”
“Gotcha.”
“We’ll reconvene when Tobias comes in and once we get the new CT scans back.”
There’s a knock at the door and Ethan bristles when Leland’s loud voice calls out to him. “Dr. Ramsey, can I speak to you out in the hallway?”
“With all due respect, I’d rather not.”
“It wasn’t a request, doctor. Hallway, now.”
Ethan shoots Harper a look, and she gives him a quick sympathy smile before he and Leland step out into the hallway.
They move a few feet away from the patient’s door, out of earshot before Leland lays into Ethan. “How in the hell is the patient actually managing to get worse under your care?”
The question actually takes Ethan aback. “You can’t possibly be saying his condition is my fault?”
“I’m saying he’s been here for a week now, and he’s no better off than where he was. You don’t have any information to give him or his family. Do you know how many phone calls my assistant has had to field because they want to get him transferred to a different facility?”
“We are giving him the best care possible, Leland. Just because you and his father belong to the same country club or whatever, does not mean there’ll be some instant diagnosis or treatment that he can buy...or steal. We need to do our due diligence.”
Leland is smart enough to know when a dig is being lobbed in his direction. His eyes narrow. “What are you trying to say, Ethan?”
“Exactly what I just did. Besides, why do you have such a vested interest in my team and what we do? I’m sure you have other businesses and people to micromanage these days.”
“You guys don’t make me any money yet remain my biggest cost. The least you can do is be efficient and answer my questions when I ask.”
“And like I told you last night, I know you own this place. You never let me forget it. But you buying this hospital does not mean I am here at your beck and call, now does it mean I have to be governed under anything that isn’t set forth by the American Medical Association. Now, me team is the best this hospital and this city have to offer, so back up and let us do our jobs.”
“You guys are the best?” Leland chuckles humorlessly. “Act like it. Or I’ll find someone else who can.”
The threat causes Ethan to pause. “What does that mean?”
“You heard me loud and clear, Dr. Ramsey. Loud and clear.”
~v~
“You idiot! Why on earth would you get into a fight with Bloom in the middle of a hallway?”
Ethan doesn’t try to school his bored expression as Tobias paces the entire length of the office, huffing and puffing as he does so.
“I didn’t get into a fight with him,” Ethan amends. “It was an exchange of words.”
“A loud exchange of words,” Harper adds. “In front of our patient’s room, might I add.”
“I had plans for this day to be productive, but the minute that man opens his mouth, I just–”
“We get it, you don’t like him,” Tobias interjects.
“Disliking Leland is an understatement.”
Isabelle stays silent, unable to find a good place to cut in, despite having questions. Ethan’s dislike of Leland Bloom is the hospital’s worst kept secret, but the contention has always been passive aggressive at best. And as a second year resident, she doesn’t have any background knowledge on why the relationship is the way that it is.
“I don’t like him either, but you don’t see me needling him in front of the nurse’s station!”
“Sure Leland is...obnoxious at times, but I don’t understand any of it,” Isabelle says, finally speaking up. Ethan looks at her as if he’s just now remembering that she’s been in the room the entire time. “What happened that caused this much animosity?”
Leland’s kidney disease wasn’t a major secret. Most medical personnel that worked at Edenbrook and the larger Boston area remember the huge media blitz, and all of the pomp and circumstance surrounding his hospitalization early last year. And the official story is Leland got a kidney from a family member who wished to keep their identity a secret from the public, and everyone ate it up.
Only a handful of people know the truth. That a few well placed phone calls and dollars exchanged got Leland to the top of the donor list within a day, stealing a second chance from the true person at the top of the list: a 14 year old girl.
“So long as there is breath in my body, Leland Bloom and his ilk will never get an ounce of respect from me, and I’ll just leave it at that,” Ethan says cooly. “And that’s all you need to know, Dr. Proctor.”
“Okay.”
“I’m just saying man, Bloom is petty,” Tobias adds. “Men like him, who think the rest of us should bow at their feet, don’t take kindly to getting told off, especially in public. Underneath the billions is a tiny ass, fragile ego. Can you just keep a low profile and be quiet for the next day or two, so Bloom doesn’t dismantle this team?”
“I’ll be as cordial as Bloom is,” is what Ethan settles upon. “Nothing more, nothing less.”
The only thing that can rival Ethan’s intelligence is his stubbornness. Tobias knows it’s the best he’s going to get out of Ethan, so he relents. “Okay.”
“Good. Now can we get back to work and stop talking about Bloom?”
His team nods and Ethan sighs in relief.. They still have a chance to turn things around and actually have a good day.
They fall into a productive routine, tossing around different theories, sharing research and narrowing down ideas. Too bad that only lasts for about half an hour before there’s a knock at the office door. A few seconds later, Naveen pokes his head in.
Ethan smiles because part of him was expecting Leland to show up again. “Naveen, this is a nice surprise! Don’t tell me you’re ready to get back in the saddle.”
Naveen laughs good-naturedly at his mentee. “Not quite.”
“Well what brings you down here?”
“I wanted to talk to you for a second, Ethan,” Naveen says.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yes. It’s not about me, it’s work related. Team related news, that I wanted to tell you personally,” Naveen explains, fully entering the office. “Is there any way I could steal you for a few minutes?”
“If it involves the team, I think we can have the conversation here. Is this about my...spirited discussion with Leland?”
“No, it’s about the case you’re working on.”
“Now I know we don’t usually work on cases for this long, and we’re working on it.”
“I know. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Leland has some concerns about how long it’s taking you guys to treat this patient, and he told me that he wants to outsource some extra help to speed things along.”
“No thank you.”
“He’s already made phone calls. I’m just here to give you a heads up about who he picked.”
“A heads up?” Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. Who on earth could Leland think of reaching out to that Ethan would need a warning about? “Who is he asking for? Mendoza from MK? Catherine Morgan from Stanford? The Boogeyman?”
“I don’t think I’ve reached Boogeyman levels of infamy. Well, at least not yet.”
The voice makes the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck stand up. It’s a voice he hasn’t heard in close to three years, one that he thought he’d never hear again.
His eyes snap up, locking with the large brown ones staring back at him, and all of the breath leaves his lungs at once. The last time he looked into these eyes, they weren’t full of humor like they are now, but pure fire. His chest constricts, inhaling suddenly the most difficult task in the world.
The entire room goes silent, everyone watching as Ethan and the woman stay locked in their staring contest. Isabelle’s eyes dart back and forth, hoping someone can clue her into what’s going on, but Naveen, Harper and Tobias offer zero assistance.
Isabelle takes the quiet time to appraise the stranger. She’s petite, almost a foot shorter than Ethan even with her sky high Jimmy Choos on. The second thing that catches her attention is the mess of dark curly hair spilling over her shoulders, and the amused smirk on her face, like a cat that got the canary.
The woman breaks eye contact with Ethan to look past his shoulder. “Harper, Tobias, hello. Long time no see.”
When he regains the ability to speak, Ethan grits out, “Naomi, what on earth are you doing here?”
“I got an interesting call from Leland Bloom this morning, saying that the diagnostics team was in dire need of some assistance on a particularly difficult case. Within the hour, his private helicopter was picking me up.”
Ethan takes a sterling’s breath and silently counts to 3 before talking again. “I’m not working with you.”
“You don’t have a choice. Not unless you quit.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Naomi rolls her eyes. “Drama was never a good look on you, darling, I was always better suited for it.” She turns her attention to the young resident gawking at her, turning on her megawatt smile. “You’re new. I don’t know you.”
“Um, n-no you don't. I’m Dr. Isabelle Proctor.”
“Isabelle,” Naomi repeats slowly, letting it roll off of her tongue. “What a pretty name.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m Dr. Naomi Ramsey.”
The last name catches her attention. Her eyes flicker over to Ethan’s face, catching the way his jaw ticks as female Dr. Ramsey talks.
“I can see the wheels turning in your head as I talk, so I’ll clear things up for you right quick,” Naomi continues. “No, the last name thing isn’t a coincidence. I’m Ethan’s ex-wife." She sticks out a hand for Isabelle to shake. "Nice to meet you.”
~v~
Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest
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