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keferon · 4 months ago

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Chapter 3 of Blurr’s storyline in Mecha AU!

Previous chapter

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers.

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Under the cut⤵️

——————————————————

It's Swindle's birthday.

He thinks it is.

He's pretty sure.

Since he was taken into the program, it's always hard to tell. It's like time flows differently here. He had a calendar, but Brawl put it somewhere a while ago and then forgot where it was. And they're not allowed to have phones yet. Though Swindle assumes Onslaught managed to steal one from someone anyway.

Shit. Where's the calendar?

Swindle remembers the date, but can't remember the month.

There's a strange static tingling sensation in the back of his head. If he turns his head too fast, it'll grow into an unpleasant pricking pain.

The last time in the lab was disgusting.

He can't remember what month it is. He's not even sure why it bothers him so much. Not that birthdays mean anything within the walls of the program.

He stops in the middle of the living room and looks around with a meticulous eye. He's already checked the beds, desk, and nightstands...hah.

“Hey have any of you seen my calendar?”

Vortex, sitting on top of the bunk bed shakes the ash off his cigarette right down into Blast Off's lap.

“Nope.”

“TEX YOU'RE LITTERING ON MY BED.”

“I could have ..torn it up” offers Brawl from across the room.

Swindle turns on his heels and angrily rests his arms at his sides.

“You tore it?”

“I might have,” Brawl scratches the back of his head.

Swindle pinches the bridge of his nose

That's fine. Not that he cares that much. Not that any celebration at all would save the crappy day.

He has some new “experimental” medical procedure scheduled for later, which generally means suffering. Or if he's lucky, some critter will attack the city and instead of squirming on the slab, he'll have to go cuddle with huge nasty beasts. Which is slightly better than the actual procedures. He'd like that to happen. If only his head would also stop buzzing....

“Happy birthday to me” Swindle thinks, sticking his Mech hand under the plates of a particularly ugly monster and pulling something disgustingly oozing green blood out of there. He can see the faces of the random gawkers who didn't have time to evacuate. Ooh, some of them got that nasty stuff on their faces. Swindle has no time to feel sorry for them.

The monster did attack, but it's entirely possible that this monster ended the last meager supply of luck Swindle had. Because somewhere. Something. In his head begins to hurt again and the world in front of his eyes begins to slowly blur and..

ahh FUCK….

The monster grabs him knocks him to the ground and Swindle can literally feel in his bones that something's wrong, but the data from his Mech doesn't give him any useful information. Which isn't that uncommon. These things are glitchy as hell and aren't designed to recognize anything but the most basic popular malfunctions.

The word “error” shines mockingly in his face. Blurring in his eyes and reflecting in red on his uniform.

Error, error, what the hell is this error. He needs to know what's wrong so he doesn't accidentally kill himself, but all this bucket offers him is oops. You're in trouble teeheee~

He can hear the sound of Blast Off's giant cannon in the distance. And the loud rumble where Vortex and Onslaught are trying to get out of the ring of monsters.

His Mech is unresponsive. His damn machine refuses to move and Swindle isn't quite sure if it's the Mech that's the problem, because his head feels like a piece of raw rotten meat and maybe the error meant that what's broken is him.

The monster leans over him, trying to rip off whatever it can rip off and thank god this thing apparently isn't smart enough to realize that the Mech is controlled from the head because it's aiming straight for his chest.

He needs to get out. If he can't get this thing to move, he needs to get the fuck out of it before the alien gets him.

He manages to open the emergency hatch and quietly slip out and ohhhh the world is spinning, this is not bloody good.

He manages to take a few steps before a loud B A N G comes from somewhere above and IS THAT A TRAIN???? Who in their right mind would think of using a fucking train as a throwing weapon???? Is that Brawl? It's got to be Brawl. Oh, Swindle is so gonna kill him.

Because (sadly) in addition to the monster, the train and Swindle, there's also physics involved in this circus.

So while the monster is effectively brought to rest and knocked sideways with a hole in it’s head, the train stops its forward motion and starts its downward motion.

Right onto Swindle's head.

He just has time to think that dying from a train falling out of the sky is a pretty creative death. His legs are shaking, his head is buzzing and he only manages to take half a sluggish step in an attempt to avoid the inevitable when a loud “MOVE” comes to his ears and something yanks him to the side.

The tug sends fire down his spine and head. The ensuing landing reverberates with pain in his shoulder and sides. He barely has time to process the first two sensations until a moment later he hears a rumble so deafening that he thinks his eardrums are about to burst.

Swindle props himself up on his elbows and hisses in pain as the movement causes the back of his head to sting.

“Ah I'll fuckin' kill him...”

A voice comes above him

“Ouw dude. You okay?”

There's.. Some teenager hovering over him. And behind him is lying...the wrecked train...right where Swindle himself was standing a second ago.

The strange teen frowns worriedly and pulls Swindle upright and drags him somewhere else

“Come on, it's best not to be in the open during monster attacks”

“Ah” thinks Swindle ”right. Without Mech you're a pathetic tiny piece of chop begging to be stomped on by Brawl.”

He tries to focus on balance so he doesn't hang too much on this kid.

They find the nearest unlocked door, which turns out to be the entrance to an underground bar.

“So” says the stranger, letting go of Swindle and shaking the dust off his hair ” You're a pilot! That's so cool, but you're kinda small for a pilot.”

Swindle sighs sullenly.

“I'll let you have that one comment about my height because you helped me, but next time you're dead.”

“Helped? I saved your ass.”

“Helped a lot” says Swindle grudgingly. “Thanks.”

The teen laughs and climbs into the bar. It's a mess everywhere, people clearly evacuated in a hurry and threw everything in haste.

“What's your name? Oh, or, wait. Do you guys use code names? I've heard pilots call each other by call signs, but half the time those call signs sound so dumb, I don't see how they can respond to that.”

He waits for the kid to cut off his flow of words to take a breath. Man, what a chatty boy.

“You can call me Swindle.”

“Kay” the kid pulls out a couple glasses ”I'm Blurr. Would you like something Swindle? I don't mean to brag, but I'm pretty good at mixing cocktails.”

Swindle looks around the room suspiciously. The bar, even though it's underground, looks pretty good. Too good, in fact. The place is clearly not for the poor.

He walks over to the bar and climbs onto a bar stool. There's no one else in here but them, but the electricity is on so he doesn't doubt for a second that they're being filmed by a security camera right now. Maybe a few even.

Blurr throws him an expectant look.

Swindle pretends to go through his pockets. As if there could be money in them out of nowhere. Then he makes a comically confused face and spreads his hands.

“Oh, no, I think I left my millions at home. What's the cheapest thing you have?”

Blurr snorts.

“Ice is free.”

“I'll take the ice then” nods Swindle.

There is a loud rumbling sound above them. It must be Vortex having fun again bouncing on the aliens that have fallen to the ground, crushing their heads.

Swindle is just. He takes off his helmet, takes a glass of ice and presses it to his head enjoying the way the nasty buzzing recedes.

Blurr waits for the rumbling to recede before speaking again.

“But really. You're a pilot but...uh. Are you even old enough to drink?”

Swindle sends him his best grumpy look. It's not exactly a joke about his height, but it's damn close.

“Are you old enough to pour?”

“Sure,” says Blurr too fast for it to be true. If Swindle had to guess, he'd say the guy in front of him is no older than seventeen. The tattered jeans and the T-shirt with the F1 logo printed on it definitely don't help. And, hey, those headphones look very expensive. So do the sneakers. Kid's clearly from a wealthy family.

Blurr pulls out a bottle of syrup from somewhere and pours it straight into his mouth. Doesn't miss, which is amusing. Doesn't wince, which is frankly impressive. Swindle feels the unbearable sweetness just looking at him.

It suddenly hits him

“Hey, do you have a phone?”

“Sure,” Blurr pours himself more syrup. Swindle twitches.

“What's the day today?”

Blurr's mouth is full of an unimaginable amount of sugar, so he just pulls out his phone and turns its screen toward Swindle and oh...oh. He was wrong about the date. And the month, too. It's not his birthday. His birthday was a week ago...

Does that mean he must be nineteen now? Yeah, that makes him nineteen.

Blurr takes the phone back and slips it into his pocket.

“Your face looks funny.”

“I just realized it's my birthday today,” smiles Swindle.

“Oooooooohh~~~” rejoices Blurr ”Congratulations! It's kind of poetic that you almost died just today. Can you imagine how funny the numbers on your tombstone would have looked.”

Swindle chokes on air.

“That's certainly a very appropriate comment, thank you...”

“Sorry haha said without thinking.” Blurr reaches under the counter again and pulls out a bottle from there “Hey, they have more syrups!”

There's another loud rumble from upstairs.

Blurr presses his head into his shoulders and stares up at the ceiling as if hoping to see something through it.

Swindle puts his elbows and head on the tabletop

“Don't worry, it's just Brawl.”

Blurr doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling

“ You can tell that by the sound of falling concrete?”

Swindle lazily dangles his feet. The chair is high and even the toes of his shoes don't reach the floor.

“Brawl is the loudest. And the heaviest, too. He's always crashing into everything, throwing things and breaking things too. You can hear him a mile away.”

He pauses to listen

“And that kch-ooooooooomm is Blast Off's cannon. It's some super rare experimentally advanced one, so it sounds like something out of a space movie. He couldn't stop bragging about it for half a year when he got it.”

Blurr chuckles and leans his elbows on the counter, relaxing.

“ And this...uh...what's this?”

“That's Vortex, he's our local lunatic. Best not to listen too much to what he does, it's almost always disgusting in ways you would never even consider.”

Blurr makes a disgruntled face and is silent for a couple minutes.

“It's weird hearing you call them by their names. I mean, I kind of always knew Mechs were run by people but you guys are never seen, so most of the time it's just.. Huge robots and huge monsters. You know what I mean. I was actually surprised when I saw you get out of that Mech.”

Swindle just nods. Because, what else is there to add.

“Speaking of Mechs.” continues Blurr, ”That thing's evacuation system sucks. What if you were stunned by the fall? What if something short-circuits and starts a fire???”.

Swindle just clenches the glass in his hands. Feels the cold moisture of condensation dripping down onto his fingers

“Then I'd burn.” he doesn't say

Blurr doesn't seem to notice his glum mood

“Oh, hey. If it's no secret, why did you go into piloting in the first place?”

Because he had no choice? He can't answer that, that information isn't for civilians.

Because he didn't know what he was getting into until it was too late? That's not vague enough either.

Because he was up to his neck in debt and barely into college before a smiling man showed up on his doorstep and offered him good money if he agreed to a couple tests...?

“I had to do it for the people.” Swindle decides to repeat a line of propaganda.

“Ohhhh.... That's...a good reason. The monsters are disgusting, of course. But the reason is cool.”

Swindle just. Holds his glass of melting ice, listens to Blurr's mutterings, and enjoys the peace. This random teenager is not his superior or colleague and has nothing to do with the organization at all. Swindle doesn't have to remember to salute or follow orders or fear being reported to his superiors.

He can just. Be.

Just him and his free ice and his saved for free life.

That's. Sweet.

Blurr's drinking syrup again.

...and a little disgusting.

—————————-

Brawl jumps out of bed, hits his head on a shelf hanging on the wall and drops everything on it onto Blast Off's head

“Swindle!!!” yells Brawl.

“Why are these books sticky???” shrieks Blast Off.

“You don't wanna know~” giggles Vortex.

Swindle sighs.

“You're alive!!!” ignores Blast Off Brawl's complaints. And a second later runs up and pulls Swindle off the floor in a crushing bear hug.

Behind them, Blast Off, with his face wrinkled in disgust, gathers all the dropped books back onto the shelf.

Swindle wheezes pathetically and slaps Brawl's arm with his palm, either to reciprocate the gesture or to beg for mercy

“Br...khaaaaah...Brawl I can't breathh.”

“OH. I'm uh. Here. Wait.”

Brawl puts him back on the floor and runs back to the shelf.

Onslaught, who has peeked into the room, puts a hand on Swindle's shoulder

“You've been gone a long time. Boss said you tried to escape.”

His tone isn't judgmental. And not pressuring. Not even questioning, but Swindle knows Onslaught wants more information. Swindle clutches a piece of napkin with a phone number in his pocket and smiles weakly.

“I've found a...friend? I think?”

Onslaught nods. In a manner that only he knows how to do. Not giving an opinion, not encouraging or condemning. Just taking in the information. Swindle admires him for that.

Behind them, Brawl pulls some piece of paper out from under the books that have just been put away and drops them again

“FUCK!” yells Blast Off. Vortex just starts hooting like a hyena.

“Hey Swindle I found the calendar!” yells Brawl waving the paper.

Swindle frowns in surprise.

“It's a different calendar...”

“I found you a new one.” nods Brawl.

“...Why...is it...it's torn in half?”

“It had stupid flowers drawn on it, so I ripped them off. And I accidentally ripped off more than I needed.”

“Ah,” says Swindle, clutching the calendar, ”That's...Thanks. I forgive you for losing the previous one.”

Behind them, Blast Off is trying to strangle Vortex with a jacket.

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

Blurr waves his arms happily like a hyperactive windmill.

“Swindle!!!”

Swindle smiles and adjusts his glasses

“Your party can be seen from across city.”

“I know~~” primps Blurr “Are you hungry? There was a snack table around here somewhere.”

“I didn't bring any money.” lies Swindle.

“Hey man, it's a party. Help yourself, it's free.”

“Оh.” Swindle's mood instantly brightens. “All right, then.”

“You look terrible” Blurr decides to share.

Swindle, busy shoveling food into his pockets, nods.

“I've had a rough week. Actually, it'd be cool if you didn't tell anyone you saw me here. I'm kind of not supposed to be here.”

He doesn't elaborate.

Blurr is a civilian. In his mind, a rough week is rude people or an exam or bad weather. Swindle's bad week is strap marks on his wrists and double vision. It's nausea from injections and sleepless nights because Vortex won't stop screaming in his sleep.

Blurr doesn't know that. With him, Swindle can pretend to be somewhat normal.

-----------

“Heeeeey“ says Blurr ‘I haven't seen you in a long time~"

“That” thinks Swindle ”is a pretty standard phrase for both of them.

Blurr looks older. Taller too. He was taller than Swindle before, but now that difference is starting to look almost comical. He's also flaunting a cast on his arm.

“Did you get hurt?”

“Didn't make a turn at training” waves Blurr off “It's no big deal. Wanna go find something to eat?”

Blurr is always trying to feed him, Swindle notices over time. Offers him drinks or snacks or whatever.

“ I like your uh..cap?”

“I got a promotion” Swindle smiles proudly “Me and the guys were made a special group...actually you're not allowed to know more than that, so you'll have to take my word for it when I say we are officially cool.”

He purposely adjusts his cap by the brim so Blurr can get a good look at it.

Blurr makes a delighted sound. Something between a “wow” and a giggle. He generally makes a lot of sounds all the time. Tapping his fingers on every hard surface, stomping in place like he's always late for something, laughing, whistling, clicking his tongue. A human orchestra.

__________

Onslaught sits down next to Swindle and clutches his hands in his lap in front of him. This makes the bed legs squeak pitifully. Onslaught has grown surprisingly large. He can almost rival Brawl in height already. Most people find that intimidating, but Swindle just thinks Onslaught is like a wall. A big, solid concrete wall that's so good to hide behind.

“Be careful with what you tell this guy.”

“Don't worry” says Swindle ”He's not the type of friend you tell secrets to. He's just a fun dude who's great to hang out with.”

Onslaught hums.

“And who feeds you for free.”

“If that's how you're trying to ask me to share, you're not doing a very good job.”

Vortex snaps his fingers as he walks past them

“Hey Swindler, the lab is closed for today. It's your day off.”

“Wha...”

Onslaught tilts his head.

“Vortex. What did you do?”

“I spat in their dna sample vault” proudly proclaims Vortex “and didn't tell them exactly where.”

-----———————-

Blurr frowns.

“Hey...are you okay?”

“No” thinks Swindle.

“My friend died” he says instead.

He's not okay. He feels like an animal caught in a beartrap, trying to chew off its own paw to get free.

Except the trap is closed around Swindle's head and it's not a body part he can afford to lose.

There's been a lot of talk. Even more rumors. Swindle listened but tried not to believe.

And then one of pilots, Shockwave… was taken to the lab and brought back a different damn man and it felt like Swindle had the rug pulled out from under his feet with hot coals underneath.

Because Swindle's boss, with his stupid, rehearsed smile, started writing reports about how “human personality flaws are something that can be fixed. That challenging behavior is something that can be repaired with tools.

Blurr freezes.

“Who?”

“Vortex.”

Because of course it's Vortex. Talented but difficult to handle. Powerful but uncontrollable.

They wanted a pilot who would be a beast on the battlefield and a loyal dog on base. And who else would be a more ideal test subject than him?

Vortex was being very rude that day, even by Vortex standards. Yelling and swearing and throwing things around. Kept saying that no shitty lab could make him “a fucking puppet.”

Scratching the stitches on his head until he started leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He went on a mission.

And never came back.

The reports said it was all the monsters' fault. That Vortex was unstable. That the accident had nothing to do with the new technology. But it was nevertheless suspended.

Swindle is both bitter and amused by this. Vortex would eat the same monsters for breakfast any other day. The bastard was unkillable.

“Oh my god” says Blurr “I'm so sorry to hear that.”

He says something else. Probably comforting. About how Vortex died protecting people, maybe. About Vortex being a hero.

“Vortex,” thinks Swindle, ”loved life. He loved adrenaline and danger and pain and thrill and fear, but he never wanted to die. They did something to him. Something that made him go over the edge.”

Vortex got his head in the trap and ripped it off to escape it.

Swindle knows him and the others are next. And knows that no one but themselves can help them.

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

Blast Off seems...very quiet. He could never stop complaining about Vortex before. Yelling about the garbage. Resenting the unmade bed and the cigarette ashes.

Vortex's bed remains unmade.

Blast Off regularly cleans everything up, but never wipes away the little circles of ash from the places where Vortex used to put out cigarettes on the furniture.

Onslaught puts his hand on Swindle's shoulder and squeezes. Not hard. Just enough for Swindle to register the gesture as important.

Standing nearby, Blast Off lights a cigarette and leans on Onslaught.

“Ons told me about your plan. I want to join in.”

“What kind of plan? Can I get involved?” inquires Brawl.

Onslaught sighs.

“Repeat after me - I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“I don't know, they don't tell me anything.”

“Good job” nods Onslaught “From now on, every time they ask you any - listen. Any! Question about us, you will answer them with this phrase.”

“Got it,” grins Brawl.

Swindle smiles.

“Gentlemen, it's time to violate all that is written, and rewrite all that is violated.”

__________________

Blurr lazily takes his eyes off the phone. He's wearing a racing suit and tons of hairspray. He's shiny and gleaming like a fine collectible figurine that should be on the shelf of an expensive exhibit. He's also bored.

“Sorry buddy, the interview is long over, if you have any questions you'll have to pay for the session.”

Swindle smiles.

“How about one tiny little question?”

Blurr makes funny big eyes.

“SWINDLE!!! I haven't seen you in a thousand years! You...oh I didn't recognize you haha sorry. Nice coat. You quit being a pilot?”

Swindle proudly adjusts his glasses. He's wearing a brand-new, ironed shirt that's exactly his size. Nice neat tie, expensive coat. Swindle isn't surprised Blurr didn't recognize him immediately. Sometimes he looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize himself. After all those years of wearing the pilot's uniform, he felt almost attached to it. And yet here he is.

“You could say I moved.” he winks snarkily, “Up. All the Mechs you see on the streets now are my Mechs~”

Blurr completely forgets about his phone.

“REALLY?? Oh man congrats to you!”

“Thanks” nods Swindle ”You want something to drink? I'm buying.”

———————-

Onslaught adjusts his tie. It's still, years later, a little strange to see him in a uniform instead of a pilot's suit.

“You do realize it's going to be hard to find a person like that, right? We need someone famous enough to be effective and dumb enough to want to save mankind instead of sunbathing on a yacht.”

Swindle adjusts his glasses and leans back in his chair.

Someone outgoing so they can quickly befriend all the right people. Handsome enough to have their face printed on a poster. Smart just enough not to say too much. And not associated with Mecha program so they can't be accused of trying to get promoted through their acquaintances.

Someone who already has everything but still willing to put themselves at risk for the cause.

“You know, I think I have a possible candidate.”

#maccadam #tf mecha universe #mecha writing #mecha kef writing #mecha bs writing #mecha cbc writing #Blurr #Swindle #Onslaught #Vortex #Brawl #Blast Off #this one is kinda Swindle centric #I just wanted to give more context for his friendship with Blurr:)#Also some Vortex lore

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scispot · 2 years ago

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Streamlining Research Efficiency: The Power of LIMS Systems for Small Laboratories

In today's scientific landscape, small laboratories face numerous challenges when it comes to managing research processes effectively. Limited resources, manual data entry, and cumbersome workflows can hinder productivity and the ability to maximize research efficiency. However, with the advent of Laboratory Information Management Systems (LIMS), small laboratories now have a powerful tool at their disposal. In this article, we will explore the benefits of LIMS systems for small laboratories and how they can significantly enhance research efficiency.

Understanding LIMS Systems

Laboratory Information Management Systems (LIMS) are software platforms specifically designed to streamline laboratory workflows, data management, and regulatory compliance. LIMS systems serve as a central hub for managing and organizing various laboratory operations, including sample tracking, data storage, experiment management, and result analysis. With LIMS, small laboratories can automate manual processes, reduce errors, improve collaboration, and achieve higher levels of research efficiency.

Benefits of LIMS Systems for Small Laboratories

Efficient Sample Tracking and Data Management: One of the key features of LIMS systems is their ability to track and manage samples throughout their lifecycle. LIMS provides a centralized database where researchers can easily log and track samples, ensuring proper labeling, storage, and retrieval. Moreover, LIMS systems enable automatic data capture, eliminating the need for manual data entry, reducing errors, and improving data integrity. This streamlined sample tracking and data management significantly improves research efficiency and saves valuable time for laboratory personnel.

Workflow Automation and Standardization: LIMS systems allow small laboratories to automate repetitive tasks and standardize workflows. Researchers can create customized templates for experiment protocols, data entry forms, and result analysis, ensuring consistency across experiments and reducing variability. By automating routine processes, LIMS systems free up researchers' time, enabling them to focus on more critical aspects of their work, such as data analysis and interpretation.

Improved Collaboration and Data Sharing: LIMS systems enhance collaboration within small laboratories by providing a centralized platform for sharing data, protocols, and results. Researchers can access and share information in real-time, which facilitates effective teamwork. Moreover, LIMS systems allow secure data sharing with external collaborators, enabling seamless collaboration between different research institutions or industry partners. This enhanced collaboration and data sharing accelerates research progress and fosters scientific advancements.

Enhanced Regulatory Compliance: Small laboratories often operate within a regulatory framework that requires strict adherence to quality control standards and data integrity. LIMS systems offer built-in features to ensure compliance with regulatory guidelines, including audit trails, electronic signatures, and data traceability. These features not only improve data integrity but also simplify the process of audits and inspections. LIMS systems help small laboratories maintain compliance, reducing the risk of penalties and ensuring the integrity of research data.

Data Analysis and Reporting: LIMS systems provide advanced data analysis tools and reporting capabilities, enabling researchers to extract meaningful insights from their research data. These systems often integrate with analytical instruments, allowing seamless transfer of data for analysis. Researchers can perform statistical analysis, generate visualizations, and create customized reports, facilitating data-driven decision-making and accelerating the pace of scientific discovery.

How to pick the right LIMS system for small laboratories and biotech companies

There are a number of laboratory information management systems available, and it can be a daunting process to evaluate them all and work out which is best for a small laboratory or biotech company. Several key factors to consider include:

Functionality: Consider the specific needs of the biotech company and the functions that are critical to its operations. For example, sample tracking, data management, external collaborations, regulatory compliance, and product sales. Does the LIMS system support these functions? If not, is there a customer service team willing to customize the platform to meet the company's needs?

Usability: Consider whether the system is easy for lab personnel to use and what level of training is required. A user-friendly interface can help increase adoption and reduce errors. Is the LIMS system intuitive? Can present and future team members easily use it?

Flexibility: Consider how workflows will change day-to-day, month-to-month, and year-to-year. Is the LIMS system flexible and configurable? Can it be changed to adapt to evolving workflows and data management needs?

Scalability: Consider the current and future needs of the biotech company in terms of the number of users and the amount of data that will be managed by the system. Can the LIMS system grow with the company as it scales and adds more teams, team members, and projects?

Integration: Consider how well the LIMS system integrates with other systems and tools used by the biotech company, such as laboratory equipment, data analysis tools, and enterprise resource planning (ERP) systems. Can it integrate with legacy software, existing and future lab equipment, and third-party apps?

Data security: Consider the data security features of the system, including data encryption, backup and recovery, and access controls. Is the LIMS system certified as a secure, regulatory-compliant platform?

Vendor support: Consider the level of support and service offered by the vendor, including training, documentation, and ongoing maintenance and upgrades. Is the vendor responsive? Are they willing to customize the platform for the company?

Compliance: Consider if the system can meet the company's compliance requirements for data management and security, and industry standards such as 21 CFR Part 11, HIPAA, and GDPR. How does the LIMS system ensure data security?

Cost: Consider the total cost of ownership, including the initial purchase price, implementation costs, ongoing maintenance and support fees, and future upgrades. What is the cost-benefit ratio of the LIMS system?

It's also a good idea to speak with other biotech companies to learn about their experiences with different laboratory information management systems, and to trial the LIMS system with a small group of users before making a final decision.

LIMS systems to consider for small laboratories

When evaluating LIMS systems, it's important to look for platforms that meet specific needs and requirements. These are some of the most popular LIMS systems for small laboratories and biotech startups to consider:

Scispot

Scispot is a fully configurable operating system specifically designed for and preferred by modern biotech startups and scaleups. Every aspect of the platform is customizable via graphical user interface (GUI) and command line interface (CLI), so companies can build the operating system they need and adapt it as they grow. Scispot’s modernized solution combines LIMS and electronic lab notebook (ELN) capabilities with automated inventory management, sales management, and integration with lab equipment, legacy software, databases, and hundreds of third-party apps. If there’s something that a Scispot partner needs that the platform doesn’t have, their Customer Service team is on standby to build it.

Scispot is a 21 CFR Part 11, HIPAA, GDPR, and SOC 2 certified compliant platform, which means an independent third party found that these LIMS systems and controls are effective at protecting customers’ data.

Labguru

Labguru is a traditional research data management solution that includes basic ELN software, LIMS systems, informatics, inventory, and equipment management features. It is a cloud-based platform that ensures data security and compliance. While Labguru is a comprehensive research data management solution, it has some occasional challenges. For instance, users have reported occasional issues when trying to import a large amount of data, as the system can be slow, or the import may fail. Additionally, some users have reported that the search function may occasionally fail to find all documents. Despite these challenges, Labguru remains a classic cloud-based platform that offers an all-in-one solution for managing lab operations and research data.

Benchling

Benchling offers a standard LIMS system to help researchers manage their experiments, samples, and data on one principal platform. However, the software has some limitations. One issue is that it restricts users from editing shared projects, which can be a hindrance for collaborative work. Another limitation is that some features, like sample repositories and data tracking, are only available in the paid version of the software. The platform's integration with storage options for large data sets is limited, which may not meet the needs of some users, especially those in smaller laboratories. Benchling’s pricing becomes especially costly as a biotech company begins to scale. Despite these limitations, Benchling's traditional LIMS system can still be a helpful tool for managing laboratory operations and data.

Conclusion

For modern biotech striving to maximize research efficiency, implementing a LIMS system can be a game-changer. LIMS system streamlines sample tracking, automates workflows, enhances collaboration, ensures regulatory compliance, and empowers researchers with powerful data analysis tools. By leveraging these benefits, small laboratories can optimize their research processes, improve data management, and accelerate scientific breakthroughs. Embracing LIMS technology is an investment that not only increases research efficiency but also sets the stage for future growth and success in a highly competitive scientific landscape.

#lab management software laboratory information management systems

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nasa · 1 year ago

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Setting Sail to Travel Through Space: 5 Things to Know about our New Mission

Our Advanced Composite Solar Sail System will launch aboard Rocket Lab’s Electron rocket from the company’s Launch Complex 1 in Māhia, New Zealand no earlier than April 23, at 6 p.m. EDT. This mission will demonstrate the use of innovative materials and structures to deploy a next-generation solar sail from a CubeSat in low Earth orbit.

Here are five things to know about this upcoming mission:

1. Sailing on Sunshine

Solar sails use the pressure of sunlight for propulsion much like sailboats harness the wind, eliminating the need for rocket fuel after the spacecraft has launched. If all goes according to plan, this technology demonstration will help us test how the solar sail shape and design work in different orbits.

2. Small Package, Big Impact

The Advanced Composite Solar Sail System spacecraft is a CubeSat the size of a microwave, but when the package inside is fully unfurled, it will measure about 860 square feet (80 square meters) which is about the size of six parking spots. Once fully deployed, it will be the biggest, functional solar sail system – capable of controlled propulsion maneuvers – to be tested in space.

3. Second NASA Solar Sail in Space

If successful, the Advanced Composite Solar Sail System will be the second NASA solar sail to deploy in space, and not only will it be much larger, but this system will also test navigation capabilities to change the spacecraft’s orbit. This will help us gather data for future missions with even larger sails.

4. BOOM: Stronger, Lighter Booms

Just like a sailboat mast supports its cloth sails, a solar sail has support beams called booms that provide structure. The Advanced Composite Solar Sail System mission’s primary objective is to deploy a new type of boom. These booms are made from flexible polymer and carbon fiber materials that are stiffer and 75% lighter than previous boom designs. They can also be flattened and rolled like a tape measure. Two booms spanning the diagonal of the square (23 feet or about 7 meters in length) could be rolled up and fit into the palm of your hand!

5. It’s a bird...it’s a plane...it’s our solar sail!

About one to two months after launch, the Advanced Composite Solar Sail System spacecraft will deploy its booms and unfurl its solar sail. Because of its large size and reflective material, the spacecraft may be visible from Earth with the naked eye if the lighting conditions and orientation are just right!

To learn more about this mission that will inform future space travel and expand our understanding of our Sun and solar system, visit https://www.nasa.gov/mission/acs3/.

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

#NASA #space #technology #explore #space exploration #Sun #solar sail #launch #tech #Youtube

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baxndaid · 6 months ago

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rick sanchez x reader

headcannons or something idk i like old men read my stanford x readers here too x <- POLL AT THE END !!

- you’re probably a family friend, you come over every once in a while to supervise morty and summer while jerry and beth try to rekindle their failing marriage

- you do a horrible job because the kids always end up sneaking out with their grandpa to kill some god or something absurd like that

- your oblivious, rick isn’t necessarily cold towards you, just indifferent

- he would rather be elsewhere than in the living room talking to some random person that beth insists on having in her house

- one day you catch them sneaking out and probably hide inside of the trunk of ricks car(?) because curiosity killed the cat or something like that

- the cars system would probably inform him that he has an unexpected visitor and your caught red handed, now inside the passenger seat with morty and his grandfather

- awkward would not be enough to describe what that whole journey was

- rick would berate you for being so stupid, telling you that you had no survival skills getting into strangers cars like that

- morty sat in silence, disappointed that he couldn’t go to “boob world” or whatever he called it

- you see, you’re a professional glazer

- it’s not even unintentional like you’re genuinely super impressed by this guy what the fuck do you mean he’s fucked a planet?? crazy work me next

- he decides to keep you around to stroke his ego, it’s refreshing to have someone who’s not always busting his balls about morality and space laws

- and having someone as attractive as you worship him like a god sounded good to him

- after a while he’ll definitely enjoy your company but pretend he’s super cool and suave , pretending that he’s not excited to spend some time with you

- morty gets a little concerned at the fact that his grandpa has taken a liking to you, with with beth

- they know what he’s like, he’s brash and cold one minute, and a little normal the next

- they eventually give in though, they’ve never seen him so calm before, maybe you’ll change him and his chaotic ways

- (you can’t and you won’t)

- he’s super distant when he realises he might have genuine feelings for you, it’s not like him at all to feel all mushy

- truth is, he’s lonely, he’s sad, he’s afraid that things won’t work out, something bad happens to you etc, then he’s back to being lonely

- yeah he’ll probably be a little mean to you at first, to try and scare you off

- doesn’t work, so he gives up with the sass

- definitely builds you little trinkets and machines now and then

- you have no time to mow the lawn? he’s going to build self mowing grass for you (it’s a little sad)

- always stuck in traffic? he’s tinkered with your car and now whenever you drive by a traffic light it’ll always be green (so many casualties)

- too cold today? he’s going to discreetly push the sun a little closer to the earth, juuust a smidge

- he definitely butt dials you when he’s drunk only to cry on your lap until he sobers up and then pretends nothing happened, if he tells you anything particularly sensitive then your memories about it are going bye-bye

- it would take a lot for him to confess, for real

- normally though you’ll probably find a bunch of voice mails from him, he sounds rough and panicky, like he’s about to die in some stupid mission (you could always near morty crying in the background)

- he’ll tell you that he loves you, and that you make him forget about how much he hates himself

- forget about that though because in the very next voice mail he sounds normal again and is telling you to ignore what the last message said

- do not ignore it pls

- do something subtle but nice, like bake or cook him something, or buy him a new lab coat, anything

- he’ll probably get the hint soon

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick c137 #x reader #rick sanchez x reader #morty smith #rick and morty x reader #reader insert #xreader #beth smith #jerry smith #stanford x reader #ford x reader #gravity falls #rick x reader #diane sanchez

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keferon · 2 days ago

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Sigh. I wasn’t strong enough to stop. I wrote a fic too

———————————

The thing is.

The procedure is designed to help.

Jazz isn't sure Prowl is getting help.

Organics are fragile.

Most of the ones Jazz had met were, at least. Flesh is more susceptible to environmental influences than metal. Flesh accumulates damage faster, both external and internal. It often generates it itself.

The processes and causes are often a mystery to Jazz, but he's familiar with the general concept.

Organics are fragile.

That's why Jaz isn't very surprised by the crowds of medical personnel scurrying around a human military base.

As Prowl explained to him, humans don't have the built-in ability to open a HUD and perform self-diagnostics. Most of the time all you get is a vague signal in the form of pain in the injured area or nausea or changes in body temperature and things like that.

Pilots have to be constantly monitored by special people who are trained to do diagnostics. Not just medics. Scientists, engineers. There's a surprising number of things that can go wrong with a person hooked up to a machine. It's weird for Jazz. He's used to coming in for physical exams only when something's obviously wrong. Pilots are supposed to get checks just in case anything about them in theory could start breaking down in the future.

The thing is.

The procedure is designed to help.

Jazz isn't sure Prowl is getting help.

He spots the scientist in purple pretty quickly. A crowd of white-haired pilots is a nightmare to identify but this particular organic catches his attention almost instantly.

He's quite...extravagant looking. And he's practically glued to Prowl. They're involved in something together that Jazz isn't sure about, but Prowl looks...wobbly...when he returns from his visits to Tarantulas. And not in a funny way.

Tarantulas holds a special interest in Prowl. Special access, too. Whenever Prowl is injured, Tarantulas is the one who must be contacted immediately. Prowl's mech system needs an upgrade - Tarantulas must be consulted.

Tarantulas slips into the crevices and oozes between the plates. His hands are all over Prowl's personal space and Jazz doesn't really know what he should do about it because Prowl apparently doesn't mind.

Tarantulas dictates what he can and can't eat. What medications he should take and what software he should use.

Tarantulas gives him these little white bracelets with the information he writes on them for the other medics, because Prowl is special for some reason and only Tarantulas has instructions for him.

Knockout wipes his hands with some kind of special napkin and jerks his head around

“If you're looking for Prowl, he's in the labs for a physical.”

Jazz pretends this information is as mundane to him as it is to everyone else on this base

“Why can't you or the other medics examine him?”

“None of us have time to deal with the creepy experiments Prowl is constantly involved in” snorts Knockout ”Last time I checked his blood could dissolve plastic. Haha figuratively of course! Don't look at me like that!”

Jazz smiles, but there's no friendliness behind that smile

“Is this scientist doing experiments on Prowl?”

“Ah. As a matter of fact. Yes. Listen...” Knockout hastily picks up the first aid kit and walks towards the med bays “You'd better ask him yourself. My shift ends in ten minutes, I'm not in the mood to start anything now.”

Jazz nods

“Suuure , no problem.”

“Can I ask what you do in there?”

Prowl has this...look. The one that shows up usually after he gets back from the labs.

In his head, Jazz calls it “'Wobbly.” It's like Prowl's little organic body's joints are coming loose. If he had joints of course (Wait, humans have joints? Right?).

Prowl squints glumly, looking up at him

“Working on improving my mobility on the field.”

Jazz lets out a quiet “oooh.”

Then pulls himself back together

“Shouldn't that involve working on your armor, and not ..uh. you?”

Prowl leans his back against the wall.

“Installing new thrusters on a mech of my class doesn't make sense. They'll increase its speed, but they'll also burn fuel faster.

And installing larger fuel tanks is something reserved for Strikers. There's no way Orion would approve such an upgrade for me.”

Jazz carefully sits down on the floor next to Prowl. It still doesn't give him a good angle on his human's face, but Prowl stares at the floor anyway so...

“And you found some kind of loophole huh?”

Prowl gives a barely perceptible shrug.

“I did some calculations and noticed that the fuel used to run the Heavy Mechs is much more efficient. It's slower to burn out, and gives significantly better performance. Which makes sense, considering it's needed to compensate for the weight of the heavy armor. Used in my mech, it would give me a ten percent increase in speed and twice as much active usage time.

Jazz glares at the top of Prowl's head.

“Sounds like an epic idea, but I'm sensing a 'but' coming...”

“But it's highly toxic.”

“It's what??”

Prowl rubs the bridge of his nose with his fingers

“Only heavy mechs can run this type of fuel because there's enough room in them to insulate the cockpit well enough from any possible chemical exposure.”

Jazz nervously pulls the servo toward Prowl but hesitates at the last second and places it on the floor next to him.

“Prowl. Prowl your armor is lovely but it's anything but heavy.”

“It is” nods Prowl “There isn't enough room in my mech to shield me from any negative effects, so Tarantulas is working on making me immune to them.”

“But that....kind of...why are you letting him? I'm no expert, but sitting inside poisoned armor can't be good for you. I don't know what he told you, but if you had asked even one other medic...”

Prowl finally lifts his head and stares into Jazz's optics for a couple seconds

“He didn't convince me of anything. I asked him to do it myself.”

“Prowl...”

“People have biases against Tarantulas but I assure you, he doesn't do anything I didn't consent to him doing. He likes to go outside the box in his research. He doesn't dismiss my ideas as too harsh. We collaborate.”

“.....”

“The result will be worth it. You'll see.”

Jazz is uncomfortable admitting it, but he sees.

The result is impressive.

Prowl can not only move fast, he can do it for a long time. He's getting more efficient (again), faster (again), better (Prowl's subjective assessment).

The maintenance team wears special masks when working on the internal systems of his mech. The fuel is toxic. Not to Jazz, but even Jazz wouldn't want it to get on his plating.

And humans are fragile.

All organics tend to be fragile.

And Prowl... little flesh-and-blood Prowl gets into this poisoned armor and it's considered acceptable? Because his organic body seems to have developed enough resistance to this kind of damage he only gets a “”mild, easily treatable“” poisoning? And Tarantulas adds another white bracelet to his arm with notes on what substances Prowl needs to put in his drinks to keep his internal components from accumulating damage.

Jazz isn't sure what to think about this.

Jazz doesn't know what to do about it.

And frankly. Does he have the right to get involved if this is what Prowl has chosen for himself?

Tarantulas is a creepy, haunting shadow hanging over Prowl at the slightest opportunity. Tarantulas takes Prowl to a lab and runs poison through his veins. Tarantulas adores Prowl for allowing him to do this.

Prowl insists that Tarantulas is helping.

Jazz doesn't think Prowl is getting help.

#maccadam #transformers #prowl #jazz #jazzprowl #tarantulas #reverse mecha au #reverse mecha art #reverse mecha writing #it might be taraprowl if you squint. But one sided because Prowl only sees Tarantulas as a coworker

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ironedsleeper · 10 months ago

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Hey so if y’all heard of a big IT outage today thats thanks to the fine folks over at Crowdstrike. I see a lot of people blaming Microsoft and while they have plenty to answer for this actually isn’t their fault. See Crowdstrike is a cybersecurity company that has customers all over the world, you’ll likely see in the news that a lot of airlines use them for example.

What Im not seeing reported on at all is that hospitals use them too. I was at the hospital last night with my girlfriend when everything went down, every computer in the building blue-screened. It wasn’t panic, those nurses were absolutely badass and kept everything calm, going room to room informing patients and letting everyone know they were working on switching to pen and paper. No printers by the way so it was literally pen and paper.

Crowdstrike still hasn’t released a statement, though the ceo did make a tweet that included, “we are deeply sorry for the inconvenience and disruption”. There was a patient admitted to triage while we were in the hospital who wasn’t responsive so the hospital staff couldn’t do anything. They couldn’t pull up records, couldn’t run labs, they had no way of knowing what medications he might have been allergic to.

“Deeply sorry for the inconvenience” as the entire nicU lost their computer systems at the Phoenix Children’s Hospital.

Maybe just keep in mind when youre making jokes about this that this massive fuckup had a cost in human lives.

#crowdstrike

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suzukiblu · 9 months ago

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"Lex Luthor's latest character flaw" poll winner, "deciding he wants grandbabies and giving Robin a cloning lab about it". Behold, a new WIP strikes!!

“What,” Tim says, staring blankly at the brightly-lit and airy sunroom full of very obvious cloning technology in the very expensive penthouse that Lex Luthor’s bodyguards just dragged a handcuffed Red Robin and Spoiler into after kidnapping them straight off patrol in the Diamond District in the middle of an active crisis situation with the League of Assassins and disabling all their tech and every single one of their trackers six and a half hours ago, down to the bastardized Kryptonian-tech ones in their back molars and two more in both of their suits that Tim didn’t even know existed, plus the one he put in Steph’s collar that she didn’t know existed. Babs is probably just about feral by now. Bruce is definitely feral by now.

And Lex Luthor is drinking what appears to be a neon purple protein shake out of a rocks glass while sitting at a neatly-arranged desk in the center of the sunroom lab, looking idly bored and scrolling through whatever’s on his phone with his free hand.

Alright then, Tim thinks carefully.

“There you are, I was starting to wonder if I’d gotten al Ghul riled up for nothing,” Luthor says, barely glancing up from his tablet.

“. . . which al Ghul,” Tim asks with wary dread.

“All of them,” Luthor says, setting down his tablet to give him a pleasant smile.

Well, now Tim knows why nobody’s dropped in a skylight to rescue them yet. And also why half of Gotham is currently on fire.

“Uh,” Steph says, glancing around the sunroom lab. “So like, lead-lined glass in here, then, or . . . ?”

“We’re in Connecticut, so no,” Luthor replies dismissively. “Anyway, the Boy Scout always gets suspicious of too much lead in one place. Which I personally find darling, since anyone in Metropolis without at least a lead-lined and soundproofed bedroom is essentially asking for Kryptonian voyeurs, whether intentionally or not on said Kryptonians’ parts. Also, privacy laws exist for a reason. As do patents, copyrights, attorney-client privilege, HIPAA . . .”

“Connecticut?” Steph repeats incredulously. “What the frick is in Connecticut?”

“Currently, us,” Luthor replies matter-of-factly. “Hope, Mercy, do me a favor and go check the security systems manually, just in case any invasive species of vermin have gotten into them. Also, yes, there is kryptonite, and no, there is actually much more than you’re theorizing.”

“You have literally no idea how much kryptonite we’re theorizing,” Steph says as the bodyguards both leave with an affirming nod. Luthor gives her a pitying look, then turns his chair a few degrees towards Tim. Tim immediately expects the inevitable threat or ultimatum, and braces himself for–

“I’d apologize for all the fuss, but I don’t actually care about inconveniencing you and don’t see the point in pretending I ever would,” Luthor informs him. Tim stares blankly at him again. What is even happening right now? “Now then, what are your intentions in regards to ‘Supernova’, as I hear someone’s started calling himself now. ‘Themself’? I’m not sure if ‘Supernova’ is meant to be gender-affirming or more a ‘too old to stick with ‘Superboy’ but there are already three ‘Supermen’ active and the whole, you know, general stubborn individualism they’re so fond of. Or ‘he’s’ so fond of. Whichever."

Tim stares at him.

“Is this supposed to be a trap for Supernova or a shovel talk for me?” he asks, because a) he’s not telling Lex Luthor anything about Kon’s gender or personal choices that Kon hasn’t publicly stated, and b) only Lex Luthor would actually kidnap two active vigilantes in the middle of a crisis he’d apparently pre-arranged to give a–well, no, Bruce would also do that, definitely. But this is not a Batman talk, either way.

Batman’s “talks” all involve tests, for one thing, so actually so far this is an improvement.

“It’s an engagement present,” Luthor says pleasantly.

Tim’s brain crashes, then does the slowest reboot of his life. He’s recovered from concussions faster, he’s pretty sure.

“They’re . . . not engaged, though?” Steph says skeptically. “Or, like, even dating?”

“Red Robin’s commitment issues are his own problem, not mine. I’ve got a schedule to keep,” Luthor replies dismissively.

#timkon #tim drake #lex luthor #stephanie brown #dc robin #dc spoiler #wip: tim's free cloning lab #long post

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redflagshipwriter · 10 months ago

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Mamabat 10 part 1/2

Chapter 10 : Calling from Hell just to say the demons are suspiciously absent, is that fine?

masterpost

“Fucking Batman,” Val said under her breath. Her Red Huntress mask muffled the words and made them come out even meaner than she probably meant them. “Years late and too little, even if he’s not working with the GIW.”

Sam hefted her requisitioned Fenton bazooka and pressed her lips even further together. None of them liked this at all. It stank. It was suspicious. Danny hadn’t sounded distressed, but he’d been out of contact too long for such a short conversation to put her at ease. There hadn’t even been time to update him on what had gone on in Amity Park.

“There.” Sam followed Val’s pointer finger to see the nearly invisible outline of a jet in the faint light. It was landing in the right field.

“It’s them or it’s a trap,” Sam muttered.

Val let out a mean laugh. “If it’s someone we don’t expect, they’re the ones in trouble.”

Sam huffed and said nothing. She couldn’t disagree, but Val seemed too confident for her comfort. They waited in tense silence to see the jet come to a landing. Not long after, a hatch popped open and the distinctive ears of Batman himself were the first out into the cold night air of a January night in Amity Park.

He was quickly followed by smaller figures- 1, 2, 3 of them. Sam felt nerves churning in her gut. She tried to channel them into aggression. She had to be tough, tougher than usual. There was no cavalry waiting to help out.

Well, there was Tucker, but he was probably going to be more useful in the wings to feed them information. He was pretty good aim with a thermos but that wouldn’t do jack about Batman and a small flock of, what, junior associates?

“Does Batman work with children?” Sam asked under her breath. One of them was genuinely small.

Tucker snickered on the other end of the line. “Uh, there’s supposed to be a Robin. Guy in yellow, green, and red I guess? Aside from that, there’s debatably like, 6 former Robins associated with him. But there’s also the Justice League’s junior varsity team, so it’s hard to say.”

She frowned at the lineup. She saw purple, black, and red. There was- yeah, okay, there was quite a bit of yellow when the little guy faced them, but she didn’t see any green.

“Showtime,” Val said. Sam crouched further behind cover as the other girl zoomed out on her hoverboard, effortlessly drawing Batman’s eye. She adjusted the dial on her sound settings to hear Val’s feed just a little louder.

“Batman.”

“You have me at a disadvantage.” Sam cringed at the gravely voice over her sound system. Batman sounded like he smoked a pack a day. She turned the volume down just a hint.

“Not really, there’s four of you,” Val said breezily. Sam suppressed a snort at the dodge. “You wanna meet Jazz Fenton? You’re going to have to prove that you’re not a plant. There’s a GIW facility-”

“Two miles west of here, yes,” Batman interrupted. “I researched.”

“Great. Do you have ground transport?”

“Of course. What is it that you expect me to prove?”

“That you’re not with them.” The subtle whine of Valerie’s weapons started up. Sam only heard it because she was hooked up to the helmet. “They do experimentation and keep prisoners. Show me that you’re not a cop.”

“The police would not support the capture and abuse of people.”

Valerie made a skeptical sound in the back of her throat. Sam couldn’t blame her. “Yeah, but they do.” Her hoverboard’s jet whooshed up in power. “Meet me there, outside the main gate.” She was off like a shot in the dark.

The four out of towners didn’t take long to get four silent motorcycles out and dash down the lane. Sam thought about what she’d heard as she cut a more direct route on Valerie’s spare hoverboard, taken from Vlad’s deserted mechanics lab.

Either Batman was a liar, naive, or he was exactly what they were worried he might be. The Justice League was famously affiliated with governments. Wonder Woman was even a member of the United Nations! If someone accepted the claim that Infinite Realms Residents weren’t really people, then they’d say just what Batman had. It wasn’t lying if you didn’t think the people you were hurting were really people.

Sam watched from a distance as the group reached the gated facility. One of Batman's people did something that unlatched the electronic security system. It swung open.

“Not shabby,” Tucker said quietly. “I coulda done it faster.”

“Not unless it goes off the rails,” Sam reminded him. She clenched a fist against her thigh. They needed to see Batman's real colors before they risked him knowing about their group. It was hard to outplan what you didn't know about, and they'd need every advantage they could get.

She let them all go ahead before she followed onto the property. It was eerily deserted, tire tracks where dozens of white Vans ought to have been.

The GIW had deserted Amity Park weeks ago. They were pretty sure there was a skeleton crew stationed out here, but no one came and left anymore. They only occasionally saw an agent wander across the path of a security camera, which were sparse inside the building.

But that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous to be here. Even now, a camera swiveled over the lawn, blinking a clear light that was easy to miss during the day. There was a reason that they hadn't risked a second raid after Danny had barely made it out last time.

Sam swallowed, hard. The bitterness in her mouth felt a lot like guilt. Who knew what the GIW had been doing? They could have someone else held captive. It was a big building. Danny might have missed someone when he was breaking Vlad out.

‘We did what we could, and we are making a move now.’

She repositioned her weapon and waited, tense with nerves. All she was meant to do now was follow along via what she heard on Val's comms and be in the wings to facilitate an escape, if needed.

“Left,” said Batman quietly. The comms were quiet for a long moment, then- “clear. Clear. Clear.”

Sam shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

“Red Robin.”

“Got it,” came a response, barely audible. Val must have been hanging close to Batman, then.

“You think now's a good time to try their computers?” Val said helpfully.

Tucker snorted. “Could just ask,” he sang to himself, cocky as hell. “I know all.”

Sam rolled her eyes. He didn't know all. About half of the property was disconnected from the security system, meaning they had no eyes on whatever was down there.

“Six stationed here.”

That had to be Red Robin’s voice. Sam cocked her head and focused on it, frowning slightly. Did it sound young?

Tucker's computer chair made a click when he sat up too fast. “Wait, what? How'd-” His end of the line devolved into rapid typing.

“Did you find a schedule?”

“No, it's not in the system. They're on paper, I suppose.” Seconds passed. “My bet is that labs would be in this wing.”

“Be my guest,” Val drawled. Sam could all but see her crossing her arms across her chest.

The line went silent for a while. Then, faintly, there came the sound of a metal door opening.

“Fu-” A GIW blaster went off. “Intru-”

The alarm was cut off before the GIW goon got out a full word, but odds were good he'd been heard anyway. Sam flexed her hands. Sitting this out sucked. She wanted to see what was happening. How many agents were there?

“Robin!” Batman snapped.

‘The little one?’

Sam felt vaguely ill. They had to be okay. This was Batman’s team.

#red mama bat #dp x dc #dc x dp

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writing-for-marvel · 2 months ago

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In Situ

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 8 | Series Masterlist

In Situ - meaning in the natural position (ie. Bucky’s place next to you)

Summary: You ask Bucky to accompany you to the hospital's fundraising gala.

Warnings: strictly 18+, unprotected soft loving sex, creampie, graphic depiction of gunshot wounds & significant bleeding to a major character, a bit of angst as they struggle to reveal their feelings, will we finally get an ‘I love you’??, certain ex-fling of Bucky’s makes an appearance, this part has a bit of everything, fluff, angst, smut all rolled into one; I will apologise in advance you have every right to hate me given the ending of this

Word count: a whopping 10.3k (buckle up)

A/N: this part is dedicated to the wonderful @treatbuckywkisses and @yenzys-lucky-charm, I haven’t updated this series in so long and I genuinely thought no one would care about it being incomplete but you both have left such sweet comments on the other parts that inspired me to continue with my vision for paramedic!bucky, so I hope you both enjoy my darling friends 🩵 banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

It’s the start of a very long shift when the person you least want to encounter, Dr Thor Odinson, approaches you with a glowering expression which looks like the most accurate embodiment of ‘I would rather be anywhere else’.

You would rather quite literally be in any other room of the hospital than in trauma room 2 right now, but as your direct superior, you have to constantly take direction from the same man who tried to compete with Bucky for your affection, and then blacklisted you at work after you turned him down.

“Before you say no to this, I need you to know this is a requirement of your employment here and you cannot get out of it, no matter how much you might want to.” Thor states with the same amount of joy as if he were inviting you to a funeral. His hands fidget almost unconsciously with a sealed envelope as he speaks, before offering it to you with a firm, outstretched hand. “Believe me, I’ve already tried.”

You consider him for a moment, his eyes not quite meeting your examining gaze and nervously grinding his back teeth. Taking the envelope, you notice your name written in messy, scrawled handwriting on the front.

“Not sure why I wouldn’t want to, whatever you’re inviting me to sounds like the absolute time of my life.” You jest in an effort to diffuse the tension between you. Thor, however, doesn’t seem to find it funny as rather than a chuckle, you elicit the most forced eye roll you’ve seen in a while.

“It’s a fundraising gala, mostly for the research labs associated with the hospital, but part of the proceeds go to supporting patients without healthcare who otherwise would not afford our help.”

Though the thought of contributing to those of the community who are less fortunate, and find themselves in the unfortunately common situation of being in debt to a healthcare system which was designed to further cripple the already vulnerable, the lack of enthusiasm Thor is conveying during the conversation makes you wary of what important information you’re likely missing about the event.

“You’re allowed to bring a plus one.” He adds with a rising inflection, almost as if it’s a question rather than a statement.

Silence falls between you two, and for a moment you fully believe Thor is waiting for you to confirm whether you will be bringing Bucky as your date, which would just make this uncomfortable encounter even more awkward, but thankfully he speaks again before you need to say anything.

“You’ll be representing the ED, and more importantly the hospital, at this event. You and whomever you bring better be on your best behaviour, I don’t want to have to write you up again.” A smirk curves on your face as he walks away. Although there is a finality to his voice in which you know you won’t get out of this work event, Thor has reminded you of the very public display of affection Bucky showed you in the emergency room which had earned you an official warning from hospital HR.

A formal gala, with Bucky dressed up in a suit and you in the most alluring dress in your closet, could be the perfect place to earn a second warning.

* * *

The night of the Gala, Bucky knocks on your front door, feeling rather uncomfortable in this taut suit with the unnatural feeling of the shoulder pads compressing against his already broad shoulders.

He tries adjusting them as he waits, he wants to look his absolute best for you, to rival even a fraction of the radiance he’s sure you will exude tonight. But they feel even more out of place now he’s fiddled with them and regrets the decision until he hears the pattering of your footsteps behind the door.

“You have to close your eyes before you come in.” You call out to him in a playful voice, without opening the door. “I’m not ready yet.”

Bucky’s positive that in any state of undress or stage in the process of getting ready you are the most beautiful girl in the entire world, but a warmth spreads through his chest at the notion you’re wanting to look your best for him.

“Okay darling, they’re closed.” He plays along, knowing that when it comes down to it, he would do anything you ask him without contest because it’s for you.

Bucky hears the lock click as it opens and a small giggle, before the light pressure of a pair of lips on his.

“No peeking.” You request as you take his hand and lead him inside. Bucky knows your place like the back of his hand already and doesn’t need his eyes open to know that you take him towards the couch. “I’ll be right back, don’t you go anywhere.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” With each beat of Bucky’s heart his anticipation of seeing you only grows. He’s seen you in every way imaginable, naked and writhing for him, vulnerable with sickness, beaming with pride and joy, and yet every time he sees you he is continually flawed by how stunning you are in every scenario.

“Buck, you can open them.”

Bucky is simply lost for words. Never in all his life has he been in the presence of someone so utterly breathtaking. Looking at you now, practically radiating golden light, a brilliant smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and your body looking downright heavenly in a form fitting dress which compliments the colour of your eyes, Bucky believes angels do actually exist.

“You are so beautiful.” He manages to stammer out once he’s picked his jaw up off the floor.

“Not as handsome as you in this suit.” You grip the lapels of his jacket to pull him even closer to you, straightening his tie in an action that overwhelms Bucky with a need to kiss you.

“What, this old thing?” He attempts to brush off your flattery, because next to you, there is positively no way anyone could compete with your beauty.

Bucky gulps the excessive saliva pooling in his mouth as his eyes roam your frame once again, because he can’t help but literally drool over how stunning you look - can’t believe that he gets to be the one who walks into the gala tonight with you on his arm.

The only other time he has felt this utterly floored by someone’s appearance was the first time he laid eyes on you as you strolled across the ER on that now historic day when he could not believe someone in scrubs and a lab coat could look so breathtakingly beautiful.

“You are genuinely the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on.”

Bucky’s fearful that you won’t actually believe his statement, even though they are perhaps the most honest words that have ever left his lips. It’s no secret that before he met you, Bucky had enjoyed sleeping around - had entertained more than his fair share of attractive women in his bed, but after just one month officially as your boyfriend, becoming intimately familiar with your beautiful soul, he has zero doubts that you are the only woman he wants in that position for the remainder of his life.

You kiss him in the breath after he finishes speaking, in that luscious, sensual way that no one else has ever kissed him and evokes a warm, fuzzy, almost life-ruining devotion, dare he say love, in his chest.

“Let’s just stay here tonight.” Bucky mumbles against your lips, his hands finding the zipper on the back of your dress and slowly unzips to let the fabric fall from your décolletage.

He can feel you smile against his lips but then you bruise his heart by pulling away and saying “As much as I would prefer to spend the whole night naked here with you, I’ve already been told I cannot miss this event.”

However, they aren’t words which scare Bucky away from a challenge, he dives back into the kiss, the tip of his tongue tangling with yours. He thinks he has you convinced when your hands start playing with the hair at the nape of his neck - you know how much he likes it and do it constantly to turn him on, but then you pull back and Bucky sighs.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Only when it comes to you.” He responds with a chuckle. You’re the only woman who’s ever had him whipped before, and Bucky’s not sure you realise how powerful the hold you have over him is.

“I promise, all we have to do is last an hour at this thing, and then you can take me home and have your way with me.”

* * *

You walk into the Gala, which is already packed with hospital staff dressed to the nines, hand in hand with Bucky who, in your opinion, looks magnitudes more handsome than any of the other men all dressed in black suits.

You turn to him and he’s already looking at you with that sparkle in his eye, like you’re absolutely perfect, just as you are, and there is nothing about you he would ever dream of changing.

“What?” You ask when those twinkling eyes don’t look away, but instead study your features as if there’s words left unsaid on the tip of his tongue.

“Just imagining pulling you into one of the on-call rooms, tearing this dress off you and tasting every inch of you.” Bucky shifts his hand to rest on the small of your back, his breath warm against your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

“Well, we have done some of our best work in there.” Bucky hums in agreement, both of you taking a second to remember the first of many visits to the on-call room which left you with shaking legs, but was also the first time either of you acknowledged that your feelings were deeper than simply hooking up. “I think you need to grab us both a drink to quench that thirst of yours, James.”

You playfully slap his chest, giving him a kiss on the cheek, and then proceeding to rub your lipstick stain off, before pushing him along to get you a drink. He looks back at you as he walks away, almost bumping into the Chief of Surgery, apologising profusely with a guilty glance to you, before he shuffles off towards the bar.

While Bucky is busy with that task, you instead make your way over to the other side of the atrium to take a look at the items available for the hospital's silent auction. You have to chuckle to yourself looking at the prices listed on the bidding sheets - as if anyone with medical school debt could afford to pay for even one of the allusive holidays or artefacts they had obtained for the fundraiser.

But you suppose your job tonight isn’t to bid on the items themselves, but to shmooze the wealthy guests in attendance into bidding with their spare millions.

Searching out one of the items at the lower end of asking prices, you decide to put an almost embarrassing low bid on an all expenses paid weekend to Mexico, that you know someone will outbid you on, just to say you participated in the night without needing to lie through your teeth.

You stroll through the busy hall, keeping your eyes peeled for Bucky near the bar but it seems you’ve lost him in the packed crowd. It’s usually fairly easy to spot your tall, broad boyfriend, and your heart sinks a little that you’re forced to walk aimlessly around the event as everyone else is wrapped in conversation.

“Doctor, lovely to run into you like this.” You hear a voice you’ve heard before but cannot place from behind you. And though you can’t actually see their face, the tone of their voice contradicts their words - they don’t seem pleased to see you at all.

Turning around, a face that evokes prickly apprehension in your chest comes into view. She’s hauntingly beautiful, the type of beauty which artists spend hours trying to commit to canvas and which is just not attainable for regular people like yourself. She holds herself like she’s closing out a Victoria Secret fashion show and is fully aware of the enchanting effect she has on any man who sets eyes upon her.

“Jacqui… I didn’t know pharmacy staff were invited to this thing.” Even with her disagreeable inflection, you do your best to sound pleasant.

“Oh well you are when you’re heading up the department.” She boasts, with a little wobble of her head which you mostly think is to draw attention to her shiny, voluminous blonde hair.

So is she just here to rub her new job title in your face?

“Congratulations, I didn’t know you got promoted.” You try to sound genuine even though you really couldn’t give a shit.

“I saw you walk in with Barnes. Where did he scamper off to?” You are now actually very glad to not have found Bucky in the crowd earlier. Something about the way she is trying to control the curiosity in her voice, and that she was actively watching the two of you together, makes you cautious of her intentions.

“Not sure, I was just looking for him.”

There’s a long pause where both of you refuse to be the next one to speak. You just want this conversation to be over. But you aren’t that lucky.

“How long have you two been together now?” The inquiry is almost punctuated with sharp spite, and though you don’t want to indulge her line of questioning, there’s a voice in the back of your head that’s telling you you need to defend your Bucky from whatever she is implying.

“A couple months.” Is the defensive response you retort - it’s technically correct, though you’ve only been official for a month of that.

“Months… how much can someone really change in a couple of months? There’s so many of us around the hospital he’s fucked. You really think he’s loyal to you?” You recoil at her words, not having expected the conversation to turn into whatever this was becoming, nor so soon into your small talk.

Where the fuck was this coming from?

“I trust him implicitly.” You attempt to control the absolute bewildered facial expression that’s trying it’s very best to overtake your features.

“Oh you poor, naive thing.” She says with a tone you use when delivering bad news to patients' families. “Men don’t change, they just hide their true nature from you. Wait a few months, he’ll be back to his fuckboy ways, guys like him can’t resist cheating. I guarantee it.”

Most men are like that, at least in your experience. But Bucky has never given you any cause to believe he would treat you like that. Just because he had a reputation of casually sleeping around before meeting you, doesn’t mean once he’s in a relationship he’ll be unfaithful.

You can’t imagine the sweet man who walked into your place tonight with his eyes closed, waiting for your consent to see you fully dolled up in your gown and then proceed to call you the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on, would ever cheat on you.

“You don’t know him like I do and have no right to speak about him like that.” You state firmly with a small humph. If you weren’t at an event packed with your colleagues, you’d slap her.

The look in her eyes appears like you’ve challenged her, but you don’t want to think about the connotations of that right now. Without saying goodbye, you turn on your heel, needing to get as far away from her as quickly as possible.

Rippling anxiety bubbles in your chest that in your experience only Bucky’s touch can soothe. You frantically search for him in the sea of black suits, trying to also keep half an eye out for Jacqui so you don’t accidentally run into her, but he is again nowhere to be found.

Where the hell is Bucky? Your mind practically screams as you bump into a strapping chest, but this one unfortunately belongs to the one and only Thor Odinson.

God, could he have worse timing?

You plaster on your best smile, trying your best to keep a calm facade as he introduces you to two older gentlemen he appears to be chaperoning for the night.

As wealthy and influential as they are, having made their billions from a tech empire started with a little trust fund from their families' generational wealth, you can’t find it in you to care at the minute. You just want to find Bucky. Need him to hold you until the tornado of anxiety dissipates in your chest.

But Thor doesn’t allow you to slip away unnoticed, instead he prompts you to talk up the work the team does in the emergency room, speaking about the people you save from all walks of life, from those without health insurance to the affluent who can afford the life saving medical procedures others fail to receive.

Knowing their donations tonight could mean the difference between many getting life saving medicine and not, you summon the will to engage in conversation, trying to push down the acidic bile bubbling in your stomach that had risen as result of your interaction with Jacqui.

The sharp taste remains on your tongue as you’re now caught in philanthropic discussion, silently cursing Thor who stands beside you for ever inviting you to this damn gala in the first place.

It’s at least fifteen minutes later when you finally excuse yourself from their presence, the two men having pulled out their cheque books, much to Thor’s delight, preparing to make generous contributions that would have the hospital naming wards after them.

You hate to think what trouble Jacqui could get up to in that time frame. But you don’t have to wait long to find out.

Finally, after searching near the whole hall for Bucky you find him. Goddess like Jacqui by his side.

She stands there, supermodel tall, blonde bouncy hair, beautiful, toned legs on display through the slit in her dress, a flirty smirk curving on her face, tucking strands of loose hair behind her ears like a schoolgirl with a crush.

The nerve of her, approaching Bucky at all, but especially after the words spoken between you earlier.

Just seeing them together, the most exquisitely gorgeous woman flirting with the man whom you love and confirmed less than half an hour ago to her you are in a relationship with, makes your insides tightly twist with jealousy, as if someone were wringing out a wet towel.

Half of your mind is telling you to stalk over there and possessively claim your man in front of everybody, but the other half, the insecure side which believes Bucky could do so much better than you, who would want someone as beautiful as Jacqui by his side, and which is currently winning the battle in your mind, wants to run off crying into the furthest corner of the hospital.

Coming to a compromise, your brain instead decides that being frozen in place, unable to look away like an impending car crash, is the best place for you to be. But that is also pure torture.

Bucky smiles, not quite his signature cocky smirk that never leaves his face when the two of you are together, but it’s definitely a smile nonetheless and your heart sinks through the pit of your stomach.

Men don’t change. He’ll be back to his fuckboy ways.

You’re not sure why you’re letting Jacqui’s words penetrate your mind, burrow into the deepest crevices and allow them to make a home there. You suspect it’s because at one point in time Bucky thought she was desirable enough to take home and do unexplainably filthy things with. Does he still have that same attraction for her?

What if you are just Bucky’s practice run at being in a relationship, the one who fixes him up, teaches him all the valuable lessons, only for him to leave you and be the perfect partner to someone else?

Practically paralysed in place as you watch their interaction, it feels like your heart has stopped beating all together when Jacqui strokes his arm. But buoyant relief comes near milliseconds later when Bucky brushes her off. That’s your man.

You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you distinctly see him mouth the words ‘I have a girlfriend’, which relieves some of the tension in your tightly wound heart.

Bucky frantically searches around the room, and appears to have found what he is looking for as his eyes settle on your face.

There’s a split second where the whole world stands still, everyone at the gala other than the two of you disappear and it’s like you’re standing right in front of him, regardless of the space separating you.

But when your mind catches up to all the drowning emotions swirling in your chest, an uncontrollable sob bubbles up your throat and tears sting your eyes. You’re not even upset with him, but the fear of what Jacqui had been planning on trying with him still manifests as a choking lump in your throat.

The physical distance between you throughout tonight has let doubt and hesitancy creep into the only small space in your heart Bucky’s affection has not yet touched. Jacqui planted the seed and it’s already bloomed into a large tree, branches crowding space in your tightening chest.

The last thing you remember seeing is Bucky taking a large stride towards you, before your hands fly to cover your mouth and you take off, walking as quickly as you can in your heels, to where you know the nearest on-call room is.

* * *

Prickling panic fills Bucky’s lungs.

Has he inadvertently just ruined the best thing in his life?

Jacqueline’s voice calls his name as he chases after you, watching as you weave between guests and make your way to the nearest exit, which only takes you deeper into the hospital.

He was naive enough to think Jacqueline’s intentions were innocent when she approached him for conversation, just two colleagues catching up at an event that neither of them were fully participating in, but he was sadly mistaken.

He’ll never make that blunder again.

Watching you shuffle into the nearest on-call room, Bucky takes it as a positive sign that he’s not the one you’re upset with, at least not completely, when you don’t slam the door in his face but instead leave it open knowing he’ll follow you inside.

Bucky stays by the doorframe for a split second, watching as you work to steady your breathing, hands wiping the corners of your eyes, but the overwhelming urge and the need to comfort you wins out and he can’t help but hastily rush to your side.

“Darling…” He starts to say but when you look at him with big, wide eyes that are filled with tears, his mind goes blank and all he can think about is holding you.

You turn into his chest, face nuzzled into his lapel, and his arms instinctively close around you.

It’s the little sob which escapes your lips that does Bucky in completely. He hates to see you upset, but never in the months of knowing you has he been privy to this amount of genuine distress. He’s seen some not so great days, shaking frustration, even teary eyed with sadness, but never breaking down weeping.

He would move heaven and earth to ensure you never feel this way again.

He places a feather light kiss to your hairline whispering, “I’m right here. Nothing can hurt you.”

Though it was not his intention, his words provoke more sobs to escape your throat and Bucky pulls you ever closer. He’s practically holding up your entire body weight, and decides you’ll probably be much more comfortable on the bed this on-call room provides.

Even seated, you cling to him like he’s your lifeline, and Bucky can’t ever imagine letting go. He’d drown if it meant holding you safely out of the rough, relentless rapids currently flooding your mind.

As a paramedic, he’s so used to taking action, launching into a crisis with the equipment to be able to provide aid, to prevent further suffering. But right now all you need is his presence, to be the anchor grounding you to this world as a reminder that you have someone in your corner fighting for your happiness.

He hates not being able to do more for you.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Bucky asks after minutes of comforting you without words.

God, you feel so stupid. Crying at a work function because one of your boyfriend's ex-flings decided to flirt with him.

But it’s more than that - it’s the disrespect, the fact that she seems so entitled to Bucky’s affection simply because at some point in his history he slept with her, regardless of if she hurts you along the way to get to him. Do all the women at the hospital look at you like you’re an inconsequential ant they can step on to get what they want?

It doesn’t help that she's also the most stunning, physical personification of a man’s wet dream you’ve ever seen.

“It’s not you Buck, it’s her.”

He doesn’t answer immediately, just continues rubbing his large hand up and down your back, which tells you he’s confused by your statement. Perhaps you’re not making any sense in this outburst of emotion, you can barely keep your thoughts in a logical stream let alone expressing them eloquently.

“Jacqui, she… I told her we were together, she knew I was your girlfriend, and she still had the nerve to flirt with you.”

“I didn’t flirt back.” Bucky says defensively, and as much as you adore him, it’s making you frustrated having to spell it out for him how her actions have made you feel when your throat is aching from pure emotion.

You take a deep breath, allowing oxygen to diffuse into the deepest alveoli of your lungs, calming the constant stream of anxious thoughts, and letting you regain control of the tears falling from your eyes.

You lean your head on Bucky’s shoulder as he continues to rub your back. Why can’t the world just exist like this? Just the two of you in peaceful, quiet, solace. He kisses the top of your head and in that moment you know he’ll wait patiently, all night if that’s how long it takes, for you to explain how you’re feeling.

“I don’t know if it’s jealousy or insecurity. I genuinely don’t care how many women you were with before me Buck, it’s just a number, it doesn’t matter.” You sit up and look him in the eye, needing to convey just how vigorously you believe your statement. “It’s just… it's a soul crushing feeling that people in the hospital, people I have to work with every day, use the fact that you’ve slept with them to make me feel uncomfortable. That somehow because they know what you look like naked it diminishes our relationship and then they feel entitled to flirt with you and try and fuck you even though they know you’re dating me.”

The misery in Bucky’s eyes is almost tangible, and maybe it’s just an illusion from tears in your own, but seeing you hurting makes him start to cry too. His large hands engulf both of yours and his thumb strokes the backs of your hands resting comfortingly in your lap.

Previous partners have always brushed you off, gaslit you or raised their voice and called you crazy when you expressed an ounce of self-doubt or insecurity, but Bucky listens to each of your words with a determined focus, taking the weight of them on himself, as if they have just as much significance to him as they do to you.

“Darling, I’m so sorry Jaqueline made you feel that way. She had no right. But you need to know there is not a single woman on the face of this earth that could tempt me away from you, no matter how hard they try. No one has ever had me like you do.”

The panic beating of your heart starts to calm when Bucky places gentle kisses to your knuckles. His eyes brim with trepidation, as if he’s just realised how fragile relationships can be and he’s desperately trying to hold onto you, preventing you from ever letting go again.

“I can’t change my past, as much as I might want to, but all I know is you’re my future.” Tears trickle out of the corners of your eyes, but now the reason being due to happiness at Bucky’s sweet confession.

What did you ever do to deserve him?

“My life before I met you was dull, black and white reruns of the same shit each day. Since I met you, everything is in vivid colour. If I could go back in time and wait for you, I would. If I knew you were around the corner, there wouldn’t be any other women. But to me, you’re the only woman that matters. It’s so profoundly better with you because I-, because I care about you beyond comprehension. There were never any feelings with anyone else. You are the only person I have ever felt this way for. You have nothing to be insecure about or anyone to be jealous of, you’re the only woman in my eyes, and I-, you’re my everything.” For someone who constantly says he isn’t very good with words, Bucky always seems to know exactly what to say to make you fall even more in love with him. They are perfect words. Precisely what you need to hear from the man who has quickly become the reason for your being.

There’s a buoyancy in your chest as those familiar eyes, so blue you could drown in, examine your face for any non verbal cues of how you’ll react to his words.

“You really feel that way James?” You ready yourself, inadvertently grinding your teeth, waiting, hoping, wishing for him to say those three little words that will take your relationship to the next level.

But that hope pops like a bubble floating in the wind.

“Darling, I would never lie to you.” He punctuates with a kiss to your lips, slow and fervent, full of meaning. The look in his eye tells you he wants to reveal more, but it passes in a blink. “C’mon, let me take you home, and I’ll show you just how much I care.”

Bucky’s firm hold on your hand never leaves yours as he leads you back through the gala. You notice some glance at you, but all you’re focussed on is your boyfriend, his head held proudly high, not giving a damn what other hospital staff are whispering under their breaths.

* * *

Bucky slowly unzips the back of your dress, the material slowly falling away from your shoulders. A shiver runs down your spine as his lips kiss down the path of the zipper, starting between your shoulder blades, careful not to miss a single inch of skin as your dress bunches around your stomach and hips.

“You were the most beautiful woman there tonight. You’re the most beautiful woman in the whole world.” He whispers against your skin, in such a sure tone you can’t help but believe him. His hands roaming over the base of your spine before gently pulling your dress over your hips. “Can’t believe I got to be the man who walked in with you as my partner.”

Bucky turns you around to kiss you once you’re bare for him. The passion, zealousness of his lips feels like you’re drowning in a tender devotion he could not articulate with just words themselves.

You don’t need to break away from the kiss to push his jacket off, unbutton his shirt, nor unbuckle his belt. He’s as hard as a rock, standing at attention ready for you as soon as his trousers hit the floor.

“My darling girl…” He practically growls in your ear when you cup his balls with one hand as the other starts stroking him, using your thumb to spread the pearly bead of precum over his tip whilst placing kisses to his chest. “This will be a very short, one act play if you keep doing that.”

“I’ve barely touched you Buck.”

“Mmm, I know. That’s just how much you turn me on.” The signature smirk he shoots you turns your stomach to mush, and makes you feel like you’re the dazzling sun at the centre of his universe.

Bucky’s large hands pull you down on the bed, on top of him. He sits you on his thick thighs, tongue sweeping into your mouth, hands exploring your every curve.

You wish you could live in this moment forever, relishing in how much care Bucky holds you with, but still manages to make you feel like you’re the sexiest woman in the solar system.

It hits you square in the chest when his soothing, wide blue eyes look up at you with a familiar tenderness that gives life to butterflies in your stomach, that you would do anything for the man underneath you, the man you love.

“What do you want, darling?” Bucky asks between breaths as he sucks on your hard nipple, his tongue swirling, doing magical things that could make you cum just like this. “What do you need?” He adds, switching to your other breast, which makes it hard to control your stream of thoughts - but there is one thing at the forefront of your mind that you don’t have to consider to know you need desperately.

“You.”

He lets out a groan around your nipple and you suspect thrusts his hips up involuntarily, just to feel closer to you.

“I need you Buck.” You repeat, tucking your finger under his chin and bringing his lips up to tenderly touch yours, as the urge to kiss him overcomes you. If it were up to you, the remainder of your life would be spent with your lips locked with his.

“How?” His stubble scratches the tips of your fingers as you cup his face. The desire brimming in his eyes, the hunger to ravish every part of you, the yearning to have you so close to him you can’t tell where you end and he begins, leaves you breathless.

“Just like this, please.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but your imploring tone inspires Bucky on, not wanting to waste a single second more where the two of you are not joined.

Your forehead rests against his, his eyes boring into yours as he simultaneously uses one hand to assist you lifting yourself to hover over him, and the other to line his tip up to your dripping entrance.

An obscene sound from the back of your throat topples from your lips as you sink down on Bucky's cock. He doesn’t take his adoration filled eyes off you for a single second, even to blink, as he fills you up completely. A whine escapes his lips once you’re seated on his thighs, appreciating how your pussy is swallowing his entire, impressive length.

“You enjoy sitting on your throne?” You can tell he’s trying to tease, a mischievous twinkle in those deep blue eyes, but his voice quivers slightly, almost as if it’s strained, which you know him too well to realise is a dead giveaway for just how aroused he is.

How aroused he is by you.

That fact alone is enough for you to start grinding against him, hips moving back and forth, working up a rhythm that has you seeing stars and him groaning your name.

Both of his large, calloused hands are resting on your hips, helping you keep the tempo, making sure each rock of your hips results in your clit being stimulated against his pelvis. His lips find your collarbone, teeth scraping your delicate skin, the sensation of which clears your mind of any coherent teasing response you could have come up with.

“Fuck, look at you fucking yourself on me. You’re a fucking dream.” Bucky’s mouth is one of the most arousing parts of him, not only for what his lips and tongue can do to your body but also for the salacious words he speaks in that gravelly tone which turns you on just as much as his body does. “That’s it, fuck me darling, this cock is all yours.”

“Buck you’re so deep.” Is all you can think, all you can feel is how his length is nestled within you, how much he fills you up. You’re bursting because of how satiated you feel with him inside you, but Bucky’s musky, woody scent, as well as his warm, tender touch surrounds you from the outside, you feel like he’s everywhere all at once, and it brings you right to the brink of coming undone.

“Be a good girl and cum for me.” In this moment you want to give him everything you have, give him everything he’s asking for and more. His voice is gentle the next time he speaks, a murmur just for you, and matches the softness in his gaze. “It’s okay, I got you. Let go for me.”

Bucky sucks the pulse point on the side of your throat and it’s the complete end of you. You shudder, feeling safe caged in his arms as ecstasy fires up from the base of your spine through every neuron in your body, your toes curling, fingers scratching down Bucky's back - you can even taste it on the tip of your tongue as you scream his name.

Your legs shake uncontrollably, unable to continue your pattern of movement grinding down against him, but Bucky takes matters into his own hands by wrapping his arms around your waist and fucking up into you to prolong your high.

Once you’ve finally stopped seeing stars, your vision coming back into focus, all you can see is the adoration, pure captivation as he looks up at your sweaty form trying to catch your breath.

“That’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.”

No one’s ever looked at you like this before, as if you’re the only girl in the world, the only person that matters to them, the one who holds their fragile heart in the palm of your hands and trusts you not to break it.

A dangerous thought flashes through your mind - do you dare tell Bucky that you love him for the first time right now, in the middle of the throes of passion. You have always wanted to let him set the pace of the relationship - he was the one who wanted to take it slow, not rushing into anything, but you can tell by the blooming warmth spreading through your chest, you have never loved someone more than you love him right now.

Bucky reaches up and affectionately brushes his thumb over the apple of your cheek, and before you can think twice about if you truly want to confess your devotion in this moment, he’s kissing you again.

Before you can even recognise what he’s doing, his toned arms have engulfed you in a tight embrace, and without pulling out of you, he flips you onto your back, making sure your head rests gently on one of your pillows. His body weight presses you deliciously into the mattress, it feels like being tucked in securely with a weighted blanket that just so happens to look like a Greek god.

“Need to feel you cum on my cock again, it’s so fucking addicting.” Bucky practically growls in your ear, his breathing heavy. His long chestnut hair falls into his eyes, but it doesn’t prevent him from gazing at you with a tangible combination of awe and lust.

The thrust of his hips is downright sinful. You feel the longing absence of each inch of him as he pulls out, only for him to split you apart again as his hips snap forward. Bucky starts out slow, his fingers intertwine with yours, forcing your hands above your head, but when he starts placing open mouthed kisses on the underside of your jaw, his strokes pick up momentum.

James Barnes has you in a trance, caged in by the sheer size of him, each languid, sensual thrust into you tightens the knot twisting into shape at the bottom of your belly.

He’s so breathtakingly beautiful, the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid eyes on. As his shining pupils fixate on the pleasure contorting your face you ponder if he is possibly thinking the exact same way about you.

The moans dripping from his lips, mixed with grunted curses, along with the telltale crease in his forehead, and the fact that his teasing mouth can’t come up with anything coherent is evidence of how close he is. But you know Bucky’s generous heart better than anyone, perhaps even himself, and you are sure he’ll be determined not to cum before you.

One of his large hands continues to pin your wrists down as the other moves to wrap your legs tighter around his waist. Then he has the fucking audacity to rub the pads of his fingers over your clit in tight circles. You’re so done for.

“Bucky, oh fuck… yes, just like that.” You manage to stammer out, barely able to move with his weight pinning you beneath him, knowing your body is hurtling towards an inescapable, forceful orgasm, and all you can do is feel as Bucky plays your body like a fiddle.

“Please, need you to… I can’t last like this.” You can feel the desperate, animalistic timbre of his deep voice in your chest and his hot breath against your neck. “Darling please.”

And then you shatter.

Fracture into a million pieces, the fabric of reality tearing apart at the seams around you as euphoria flows through you like wind on the surface of water. Every single cell in your body feels like it’s been lit on fire, burning bright like a shooting star soaring through a galaxy assembled by your love for him.

Bucky speaks your name as a prayer, a vow, a promise. Over and over again. A reminder that you are who he is coming apart for.

It almost makes you dizzy how lost he is in the feel of you, how his hands spread you open as far as your legs will flex, but then you hear the wanton whimper as he spills his orgasm inside you and it’s almost enough to make you cum again.

As your heart rates slowly return to normal, Bucky lays down beside you, cupping your face tenderly as his tongue slips once again into your mouth. You would have thought given the display of passion just produced he’d have had his fill of physical affection, but he continues to surprise you.

Who would have guessed that Bucky ‘doesn’t go on second dates’ Barnes would now be clinging to you like a koala, not being able to get enough of your touch.

* * *

“Sweet dreams Buck.” You whisper in that tired, yet sickly sweet tone that Bucky associates with the contentment of falling asleep beside you.

”They’ll all be about you.” He responds with a delicate kiss to your forehead, fingers tracing gentle lines up and down the expanse of your back.

“Then I wish you nothing but dirty dreams.”

He rarely dreams of anything else nowadays, but it makes him smile nevertheless that your minds think in such similar ways.

You really are the girl of his dreams.

Even more than that, if there was an expression which captured just how significant you had become intertwined in his life after a relatively short period of time. His brain could not have concocted someone as perfect as you, even in his wildest fantasies.

He holds you close to him in the total darkness as your breathing slows, but there are too many thoughts racing through Bucky’s brain for him to fall asleep.

Tonight was perfect. Complete, utter perfection. Not that he expects any less of a night spent with you.

So why, even after building the courage all week ahead of the gala, (and if he was honest with himself, since the week he swapped to be on the night shift with you), had he yet to utter those three magic words?

Steve would say there was one final wall around Bucky’s heart he had yet to pull down for you, to reveal his deepest darkest vulnerability that he could barely admit to himself, let alone the flawless woman who consumed his every waking thought.

The insecurity he had been plagued with since he was fourteen years old and his father had wished death upon him.

The fear that he is innately unloveable.

Just because he loves you in a way that influences his every decision, impacts every aspect of his existence, and alters the chemistry of his brain, doesn’t mean you are as hauntingly consumed by devotion as he is.

And even though the rational part of his brain tries reminding him you would not have shown such patience and stuck around as he clumsily attempted to manoeuvre being in a relationship for the first time if you truly did not want to be with him, that nagging insecurity is always at the back of his mind like a fog that won’t clear, doubting whether after everything he has endured, if he is deserving of being loved the same way he adores you.

But at some point Bucky knows he needs to find the bravery to take that leap, even if your possible rejection would be his ultimate downfall.

“Darling?” Bucky whispers as quietly as he can into the still night air. You don’t stir, nor do you respond, which is exactly what he’s hoping for. “Darling, are you awake?” He questions slightly louder so that you couldn’t help but hear him considering his proximity.

You continue to rest peacefully, lips slightly parted and breathing steadily, which is precisely how you always appear when sleeping beside him, but given the gravity of what he is about to reveal to you, Bucky has to be absolutely positive you’re in a deep slumber.

“Chicken butt.” He says randomly, hoping that if you are feigning sleep this will cause a crack in your rather convincing facade. But to his delight, your expression doesn’t change in the slightest, no muscle in your face so much as flinches, and Bucky is finally convinced.

He takes a deep breath, readying himself even though he knows you’re unable to hear him.

“I love you.” Bucky confesses with a shaky breath, even though he is assured in his affection. Though you’re not conscious to receive his words, something about disclosing his most closely guarded secret to your beautiful face, finally admitting his profound feelings aloud, feels like an enormous step for him. Never in a million years did he think he could open his heart up far enough to allow space for these types of feelings to nestle within. “You are the most precious thing in my life. I’m never going to compromise what we have, never going to take you for granted. I’m going to love you and only you for every day I have left in this life and even when I’m no longer here, my soul will forever be yours.”

You provide no response, features stay perfectly still, breathing rate doesn’t change. Which is of course exactly the reaction he’s hoping for while you rest, but he can’t stop his mind from wondering what your reply might be if you were awake; if you’d profess the words back to him, or if instead you’d recoil, shying away possibly because Bucky was moving too quickly.

Nevertheless, Bucky knows better than most that life can be painfully short, everyone has their expiration date, and you need to tell the people in your life how much you care about them before it’s too late.

“I love you.” He repeats with a smile and a kiss to your bare shoulder. Though he is navigating the all consuming, anxiety riddled, life ruining feeling of falling in love for the first time, Bucky knows with absolute certainty that he would go through it all again, one hundred times over, if it meant getting to spend his life with you.

But now for the difficult part - he has to say those three life changing words when you’re actually awake to hear them.

* * *

When the irritating ringing of your alarm wakes you up the following morning, a wave of disappointment washes over you. The night before with Bucky had been nothing short of memorable; complete with overflowing emotion, devotion, and no hint of apprehension from the man who had previously told you himself he wanted to take the relationship slow.

It was the most tangible display of pure love you have ever beheld.

But now, you lay alone in a web of cold sheets, Bucky’s place beside you unnaturally empty. When he has an early shift, typically he wakes you before he leaves, and at the very least gives you a kiss on the forehead, if not a much more intimate show of affection. But today, you have no recollection of being woken, no memory of his pillow soft lips on yours.

You find it takes a much more determined effort to get out of bed without an energising kiss from your Bucky.

The gala is the talk of the hospital, those who did not receive an invite interrogating everyone who attended for all the latest gossip. You hear your and Bucky’s names dropped a couple times in passing conversation, but all that does is remind you of the night before, and Bucky proclaiming his devotion to you while extracting a pleasure from your body no one else has been able to produce.

Tonight, you promise yourself, those three small words that have been tugging at your mind for the last month, tonight you’ll tell Bucky.

His declaration of wanting to take your relationship slowly was all the way back before your second date, before you officially became his girlfriend, before you held him as his mother underwent life saving surgery, before you knew of his traumatic past, before he switched to the night shift just so he could see you more often, before last night where he told you you are his everything.

Regardless of if he says the words back, you need to tell him. Need him to know that he is the love of your life, that synapses in your brain have reformed so your train of thought always comes back to him, that he has rewritten the molecular code inscribed in your cells so that they crave him like water, drawing him in like osmosis.

Your thoughts are interrupted by your pager going off, calling an all hands on deck emergency.

The ER is a frenzy of nurses clearing trauma rooms, doctors discharging patients who have already been seen to and Dr Strange shouting at surgical staff to prepare the operating rooms.

“There was a shooting at the mall. Police and paramedics are on scene, but it sounds bad.” Wanda fills you in as you both wash your hands and put gloves on, getting ready for the volume of blood and carnage that comes with gunshot wounds.

Dr Strange gathers the emergency medicine team together to brief you all on what you’re about to face. His face is stoic, having treated too many disasters to even seem phased by the decimation of so many lives.

You have not mastered that, but you also like having your humanity, caring about people is what you do best.

“So far we know of eight victims being routed here. There will most likely be more. All G.S.Ws, five women, two men and a child, about eight. One of the men was a paramedic on scene.” The last sentence out of his mouth gives you pause.

A male paramedic was shot.

“A paramedic? Did they say who? Give a description?” All eyes turn to you and no one needs to say it aloud to know exactly what you’re thinking.

“No, that’s all the information we have at this time. They should only be a few minutes out.” You’ve never known Dr Strange to be very sympathetic, but the look he shoots at you is what you assume to be the most compassion he is capable of.

The nagging part of your brain that always finds a route to the most devastating scenario, no matter how unlikely, is screaming so loudly you cannot ignore it.

What if that paramedic is Bucky?

There would have to be thousands of paramedics in a city of this size, what would the chances actually be that Bucky is the one paramedic in critical danger at this very moment.

But the universe has always found a way to be cruel to you, with the exception of when it brought devilishly handsome Bucky Barnes into your life. But what could be more cruel than introducing you to unconditional love and then destroying your heart by taking it away just as swiftly?

Wanda, sensing your paralysing worry beside her, comfortingly strokes her hand up and down your upper arm. “He was working the morning shift today, his shift will be well and truly over. He shouldn’t have been working when the shooting happened.”

“Yeah… he was on morning shift today.” Reminding yourself how you woke up in bed alone. Your lips tremble as you attempt to talk yourself down from the ledge of sheer panic. But your best friend can tell this fact doesn’t convince you.

“Call him.” Wanda instructs with a level voice, only a small glisten in her pupils gives away that she too is worried for his safety.

Your hands are shaking uncontrollably as you locate his contact in your favourites, accidentally dialling your mum first before you see the picture you have of the two of you together set as his contact pop up as it starts ringing.

Time stands perfectly still, the bustling hospital which is always full of movement, the constant beeping of patients pulse oximeters, announcements sounding over the PA, it all goes dead silent and all you hear is the ring tone of a phone call which Bucky isn’t answering.

Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

It goes to voicemail, his voice filling your ears but it’s of no relief because it’s only a recording.

You press his contact again.

And again.

The fourth time you’re forced to listen to his infuriating voicemail, you leave a panicked message. “Bucky I’m so worried about you, please ring me back as soon as you get this. There’s been a shooting. Please, I need to hear your voice, hear that you’re alright. Please.”

You thought he’d pick up the phone and relieve you from this torment, but now knowing he hasn’t answered after multiple calls, you’re more convinced than ever it’s him that’s been shot.

“Wanda if it’s-”

“You can’t think like that.” But that's all you can think about. Your job, the duty you have to these patients who are en route to the hospital, none of that comes close to the need to know Bucky is unharmed.

The world starts moving in slow motion as the first of the patients arrives. Time runs like molasses, but the anxiety in your chest turns up one hundred fold, as if flashes of lightning strike your chest one after another.

A woman gets pushed in on a gurney, light brown hair stained with blood, and even from the sight of how the paramedic needs to hold her skull flap to her head to prevent her brain being exposed, you know she won’t make it as much as the surgeons will try to save her.

There’s a child, not much bigger than Sasha who you treated the day you first met Bucky, that gets pushed through next. In complete juxtaposition, she’s sitting up talking to paramedics, arm in a sling, but mostly looks unharmed.

And then you see it. The thing that flatlines your heart.

Chestnut hair and an EMT uniform.

You’d know those thick, wavy locks anywhere.

“Bucky!” You don’t even recognise your own voice with how much terror it is consumed with. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real.

In a flash you’re by his side, keeping pace as they wheel him deeper into the hospital, your lungs and throat scorching with distress.

You try not to break down seeing the sheer amount of blood, Bucky’s blood, soaking the gauze they are pressing into his shoulder wound, how pale and fragile he looks strapped down to the gurney. You’re an emergency medicine doctor, you’ve treated wounds like this before, confronted much more blood than this from a patient. But nothing in your training prepares you for observing your soulmate barely clinging to life, their claret staining your gloved fingers as you help maintain pressure, how cold his skin is to the touch, how his face looks almost serene even though these could be his final moments on earth, that he could be abandoning you for the warm embrace of death.

Not your Bucky. They can’t take your Bucky.

“Buck, can you hear me?” Your hand cups his cheek, and he’s as cold as ice. His eyes are shut so he can’t even look at you to give you one last chance to memorise the astonishingly blue irises which have been your source of solace since meeting him.

A mask covers his mouth and nose, delivering rescue breaths. You try to place a block in your mind to stop it from retrieving the medical knowledge you have spent years memorising - you don’t want to know how catastrophic a situation his body must be in to be needing rescue breaths.

“I love you, James. You hear me? I love you!” It almost ends your existence when he doesn’t answer, doesn’t even so much as flinch at your confession. You hope any part of him that is still alive inside the casing of his cold body manages to hear those words.

Dr Strange and Wanda have to physically restrain you from following the team treating Bucky and prevent you entering the operating theatre.

Dr Strange’s voice sounds like a hum, too far away to make sense of even though he’s pushing you away from the OR. All you’re focussed on is keeping your eyes on Bucky for as long as you can.

Is this the last time you will ever see him alive?

It’s only once he is out of sight, that your brain starts to catch up to the realisation of what has actually happened.

Bucky was shot. A bullet ripped through his skin, tearing muscle and fascia, lacerating his organs, possibly fatally wounding him.

Bullets are designed to kill. To end the life of the organism the gun barrel is aimed at. There is no mercy from a gunshot wound, you had seen too many to believe better.

A guttural cry forces its way out of your parched windpipe without you being able to prevent it, your kneecaps sting as you fall to the ground. Hot, large tears cascade onto your cheeks as Wanda’s arms engulf you.

Any second now, James Buchanan Barnes’ heart could be taking its final beat and you wouldn’t be any wiser. His lungs would stop breathing, preventing oxygen from binding to hemoglobin in his blood and reaching his brain. Everything else would shut down quickly from there.

One second he’d be here and the next he wouldn’t.

James Barnes simply wouldn’t exist anymore.

You had seen it too often, heard from bereaved family members time and time again how quickly it had all happened, but it wasn’t until this very moment that you understood the magnitude of that sentiment.

How could he go from telling you yesterday night that you were the most beautiful sight he had ever laid eyes on to now possibly his cold, lifeless body laying on an operating table with his soul having crossed over to the afterlife?

You’d never hear his voice again. Or his laugh.

Never see his dazzling sapphire eyes as they regard you with overwhelming affection.

Never feel that warm rapture blooming in your chest when he’d proclaim himself as yours and kiss you in the same breath.

He’ll never get to know you love him.

It feels as though you are tumbling wildly down into an abyss, waiting for the inevitable crash at the bottom that would either end this eternal suffering or that sudden jerk, the lurch as you wake up from this cruel nightmare.

Neither comes. You are fated to live in excruciating limbo, your lungs burning, as if you can’t take a breath until Bucky’s destiny has been sealed.

Oxygen would be the gift you’d allow yourself once your love was awake and talking again; cracking stupid jokes with his signature cocky smirk and flirting with you like you were on your first date again.

And if he were to pass into the next life, taking your heart with him, then you would simply refuse to take another breath until you were reunited with him once again.

Part 10 coming soon

Be added to the series taglist here

He’s Hazardous To My Health [Paramedic!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @lavenderpenumbra @crazyunsexycool @eralen @buckbuckyoongs @blackwidownat2814 @crayongirl-linz @ozwriterchick @desert-fern @misshale21 @chalesleclerc164 @rookthorne @janineb86 @emmabarnes @scarletbich @princezzjasmine @thebuckybarnesvault @doasyoudesireandlive @solitarioslilium @iamfandomwasted @tanyaspartak @pop-rocks-818 @Dumdidditydumdoo @missvelvetsstuff @kayden666 @amiimar @katheryn1 @safew0rd @kentokaze @thewackywriter @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @badasswlthafatass @loveoldmenlikelana @00cmh @pointless-girl @honeyglee @nerdxacid @ashhsage @prettylittlepluviophile @otomefromtheheart @sjsmith56 @mandijo17 @lokidokieokie @oceansandblackhearts @rebeccapineapple @soorwellystan @excusememrbarnes @lofaewrites @snapcapquartet @wishingwell-2 @aya-fay @lowkeysebby @redbarn1995 @lex-is-up-all-night-to-get-bucky

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malsmind · 2 months ago

Text

file/information —

hacker!matt desperatly has to find a way to hack into

popular!reader's phone again.

file-warnings: stalking, male and female masturbation

you sat in the cramped lecture hall, the faint hum of the projector overhead mixing with the rustle of notebooks and the occasional cough from someone a few rows back. it was a typical tuesday morning at college—intro to programming, a class you only half-paid attention to because the professor’s monotone voice could put anyone to sleep. your phone buzzed on the desk, screen lighting up with a text from a friend about some party this weekend. you smirked, tapping out a quick reply, oblivious to the pair of eyes watching you from across the room.

matt slouched in his seat near the back, his hoodie pulled low over his forehead, hair spilling out in messy strands. he kind of looked like every other guy to be honest. he didn't dress in any 'weird' or 'nerdy' way, but there was something sharper in the way his blue eyes flicked toward you. he wasn’t just some slacker coasting through college. matt was a hacker, the kind who could dismantle a system in his sleep, and he’d been trying to crack into your phone for weeks. not that he hadn't done it before, he's hacked into your phone and other devices multiple times, but recently, your phone’s security was tighter than usual, probably because apple had sent you a warning when matt wasn't careful enough with hacking into it last time. some custom encryption he couldn’t quite unravel, and it was driving him up the wall.

the reason why exactly it was making him go insane was because last night, when he went to touch himself, knowing after a long day and a night out you'd shower, maybe even find relief in touching yourself as well, he was left needy and frustrated when your phone kept kicking him out. no mater what he did, your phone just wouldn't cooperate.

he chewed the inside of his cheek, spinning a pen between his fingers as he watched you scroll through your screen. he’d tried phishing links, brute-forcing your password, even sniffing the campus wifi for vulnerabilities—nothing worked. it was starting to feel personal, like your phone was taunting him. then, last night, hunched over his laptop in the living room of the house he shared with his brothers, the idea hit him: if he couldn’t hack it, he’d break it. get you a new one. slip in a backdoor before you even turned it on. his lips had curled into a grin at the thought, a little twisted but undeniably clever.

now, he just needed an opening. class ended, and you shoved your stuff into your backpack, slinging it over one shoulder as you headed out. matt followed at a distance, hands in his pockets, blending into the crowd of students spilling into the hall. he caught sight of you by the vending machines, fishing coins out of your jeans to grab a soda. perfect. he ambled over and “accidentally” bumped into you just as you turned around. your phone slipped from your hand, clattering to the tile floor with a sickening crack.

“shit, my bad,” matt muttered, crouching down to pick it up before you could. the screen was shattered, spiderwebs of glass radiating from one corner. he held it out to you, his expression all apologetic, but inside, he was buzzing. “damn, that looks rough. still work?”

you took it from him, frowning as you pressed the power button. nothing. just a dead, black screen. “great,” you sighed, “there goes my whole life.”

“m' sorry..” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “i’ve got an extra one back at my place, though. new model, still in the box. you can have it if you want—save you the hassle of dealing with the repair shop.” his tone was offhand, like it was no big deal, but his pulse ticked up a notch waiting for your answer.

you hesitated, eyeing him for a second. you’d seen matt around—quiet guy, always tinkering with something in the lab—but you didn’t really know him. still, a free phone was a free phone. “yeah, okay,” you said finally. “that’d be awesome, thanks.”

he flashed a lopsided grin, leading you across campus to his place. he dug through a drawer, pulling out a sleek, unopened phone box. “here,” he said, tossing it to you. “all yours.”

you caught it, tearing into the packaging while he leaned against the desk, watching. what you didn’t know—what you couldn’t know—was that he’d already cracked it open days ago, slipped in a custom firmware with a remote access trojan buried deep in the system. camera, mic, everything—he’d have it all. you powered it on, the screen glowing to life, and started setting it up, oblivious to the way his fingers twitched slightly, itching to get back to his laptop.

“looks good,” you said, pocketing it. “thanks..”

“nah, don’t worry about it,” he replied, shrugging. “just glad it’s not going to waste.”

you left, and he waited a few minutes before locking the door, rushing up to his room and booting up his rig. the monitor flickered on, lines of code scrolling as he connected to the backdoor he’d planted. your camera feed popped up, grainy at first, then sharpening as you walked into your dorm room across campus. he leaned back in his chair, heart pounding a little harder than he’d admit, watching you toss your bag onto the bed and kick off your shoes. nothing special yet, just you being you, but the thrill was in the control. he could see you whenever he wanted again.

later that night, he couldn’t sleep. the room was dark except for the blue glow of his screen, the hum of his pc fan the only sound. he pulled up the feed again. you were in bed, the soft light of a lamp casting shadows across your walls—posters, a cluttered bookshelf, a half-dead plant in the corner. you’d changed into an oversized t-shirt, hair messy, scrolling through the new phone he’d given you. then, the phone started moving in a way that made him sit up straighter, turning up the volume of his headset. matt saw the expression on your face, hearing the small whimpering noises slipping past your lips, and knew what was going on behind the screen.

he'd been waiting for it all night..

matt’s breath hitched. he shouldn’t—he knew that somewhere in the back of his head—but the line was already blurred, and he was too far gone to care. he unzipped his jeans, hand slipping inside as he watched you shift, the shirt riding up slightly to expose the soft skin of your perfect tits. "shit—" matt hissed, his grip tightened, movements slow at first, eyes locked on the screen. your room smelled like lavender, he imagined from what he'd seen trough your camera so far, from that candle you always burned. he pictured the way you’d gasp if you knew, and just as his thoughts wandered to what your reaction would be if you knew what was going on behind the little screen you held in your hand, you moaned, wet sounds of your fingers working on yourseld echoing. he thought about what those moans would sound like if he was the one pulling them out of you, the thought sending a jolt through him.

the feed stuttered slightly as you picked up your pace, fingering yourself, but matt reloaded the page, keeping you in frame, fresh and in perfect quality. his hand moved faster, rougher, the sound of his breathing filling the silence of his room. "fuuuuck, y/n—"he whimpered pathetically, watching you as you bit your lip, breathing heavily as you tried to hold back your moans, and he groaned low in his throat, imagining the heat between your legs, the wetness clinging to his fingers instead of yours, the slickness he couldn’t see but could guess at. "fuck—fuck—fuck..." matt gasped out, body tensing up as cum hit his knuckles, hot and sticky, as he finished, chest heaving, eyes still glued to you lying there, oblivious, reaching your orgasm in synch to him without even knowing.

he wiped his hand on his shirt, leaned back, and smirked at the screen. “so fuckin' sexy..” he muttered to no one, already thinking about tomorrow, and the day after, and the many more days he'd watch you touch yourself, doing it with you.

@loser41ifee GAVE THE IDEA FOR THIS! (i hope i did a good job cause omg this took me way to long to actually start writing.)

series link

taglist

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@backwardshatnick @sturniolosymphony @sturns-mermaid @realzula @courta13 @sturnzzlovee @chrissweetheart @sturniolosymphony @sturniolo1trips @freshsturnzx @sturnslutz @sturrrrnslvt

#ERR0R C0DE 💚#hacker!matt #hacker!matt sturniolo #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfiction #matt sturniolo x reader smut #matt stuniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #sturniolos #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturiolo fanfic #malsmind 𖦹

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luveline · 1 year ago

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HI MLLLL! I absolutely loved your fainting fic with James! Can you write like a part a part 2 or like a follow up where reader starts realizing that James isn’t as bad as she thought and she falls for him as he takes care of her bc he’s really worried? I love them sm 🥹

James takes care of you when you faint

James is acting weirder than usual… sort of… nice? fem, 1.2k

The days after you faint are just as hot, but you come into work. You can’t afford to miss it, and it’s not as though you’ll make the same mistake twice.

The memory of what happened is hazy at the start. James had just opened the window, the breeze that filtered in cooling your hot skin. You’d felt sick, you’d tried to stand, and your head had gone blank.

You woke with your face in James’ hand. You can remember it if you think about it enough, his head tilted down toward you, the sunshine on his skin, his soft smile. He’d felt like a different person.

You’d felt different.

“Can you send me that information from the lab, please?”

You glance away from your computer, eyes tired. “Sorry?”

“For the, uh, Mr. Nguyen?” James asks. “You didn’t send them to me. I can’t do them if you don’t send them.”

“Right.” You blink away the phantom of his hand on your cheek. “Okay.”

“Are you feeling alright?”

That’s all he asks. Every day since you passed out, at various times and in various ways. Are you okay? Are you alright? Is it too hot in here? Do you want to swap desks with me? That last one had been a little patronising. You’d told him to leave you alone. Your desk is right next to the radiator in winter, it’s prime real estate, and you’re not giving it up just because you got a bit hot.

“I’m fine,” you murmur, turning back to your computer to open outlook. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“About you not talking to me.”

“Funny.”

You drag and drop the paperwork for the tests he’d wanted. It’s easy to render an invoice but you hate doing it because it involves a lot of talking back and forth with clients. James, on the other hand, loves to talk.

“There, sent it,” you say.

“Thank you.”

Awkward. You pretend to be busier than you are for a few minutes, stealing company time without remorse. James types up an email beside you, the click of his keys quick and loud in your ears.

Remus pops a pen lid across the way, scribbling onto a post it note that he sticks on his monitor. You know what time it is from the sounds alone. A half a minute later, Sirius slinks up from the front of the office to wrap his arm around Remus’ shoulders, sing-songing, “You’re coming with me, handsome.”

“Are you coming?” Remus asks James.

There’s a lapse of quiet. You stare at your computer, aware of a silent conversation, but not privy to its content. “I think I’ll stay,” James says eventually.

“Okie dokie. Y/N, do you want to come, lovely?” Remus asks. “It’s not too hot.”

“I’m fine,” you say, “thanks. Thank you.”

You don’t feel like yourself since you fainted. You’d hoped it would go away once you had a better night’s sleep, flooded your system with cold water and good food, but you can’t kick it. You have no energy, no want to do more than turn up for work and go home again, and you know what it is that’s making you feel this way, but you can’t admit it to yourself. It crops up in your mind unbidden and you push it back down.

“Sirius never used to act like that.”

“What?”

“Sirius. He was never like that when we were growing up. Love makes him pathetic.”

Love is a tender touch. Sirius had laid his arm over Remus’ shoulder without any hug or kiss, but it was as loving as either. To touch someone like they need a kind hand.

Like James had held your face. His arm behind your back as he led you to the break room.

“Do you wanna come with me?” James asks.

You hold in a second confused, What? He’s standing now, you hadn’t noticed him moving, his water bottle in hand as he pushes his chair back under the desk.

“Don’t wanna leave you here and have you smash your head in when there’s no one around. Imagine the clean up.”

You get up on impulse. You grab your drink, and the back of your chair, and you stand there wondering if you’re about to be dizzy again. Your chest feels tight, but that weight of unconsciousness doesn’t come.

“Hey,” James says. “Seriously, are you okay? You’re not like you today.”

There’s a softness in his voice you can’t believe. “Can I eat lunch with you?”

You wish that you said it to avoid the question. James wrinkles his nose, your heart drops into the pit of your stomach, but then he says, “I just invited you first.”

“I… have to get my stuff from the fridge.”

“Me too.”

You walk slowly, worried it’s a joke, another stupid joke, but James comes up behind you and his hand graces your shoulder with the barest pressure. You can smell something sweet and warm on him, like jojoba oil. Maybe argan. “Sure you’re okay? You look peaky. Is it the heat?” he murmurs.

“It’s supposed to rain tonight.”

“You can’t answer anything, can you?” James laughs with a vocal fry that goes straight to your chest. “I could ask you how many fingers you’d have and you’d tell me you have two hands.”

James walks with you to the kitchen, where you gather your food and warm it in the microwave. He leads you to the break room, and makes sure to choose a table with enough space for you, even while people he’s friendly with beckon him forward. They look at you with unashamed curiosity, but James pretends not to notice so you do too.

You’re expecting a joke. Aw, look, we’re finally on a date. Or Wow, you know how to use a spoon, I had no idea you were so dexterous.

“Did you see they’re making a new movie about those aliens? The ones who can hear you everywhere you go?”

You squeeze your spoon. “Uh, no, I didn’t see it.”

“It looks awesome. I’ll show you the trailer on my computer after lunch, it looks just as good as the first two. That actress, the one with the really nice eyes is in it.”

You have no idea who he means. James talks to you like a friend. He offers you some of his papris and he passes you a napkin from his pocket when you get food on your hands. James Potter might actually be a really nice guy. All it took was for you to garner his pity for him to show it. How pathetic you must seem to need it.

“How do you feel now?” he asks as you clip the lid back onto your Tupperware. “You look better. Do you feel better?”

“I’m fine, James.”

“You frown so much I can’t tell.” He butts his knee against yours. “Alright, batten the hatches, I’m gonna carry you back to your desk.”

“Why?” you ask in a rush.

“Can’t fall if you don’t walk.”

“James, don’t try it. I’m serious.”

“You don’t sound serious. You sound like you want me to carry you.”

“I’ll report you to Human Resources.”

“For what? Being helpful?”

“Harassment.”

“Fine, but I’m not gonna catch you this time.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x fem!reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fic #james potter fluff #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter imagine #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #the marauders #marauders era #marauders

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im-not-a-ghost · 6 months ago

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FS series : their profession & hobbies

Group 1 - Moonchild Ace of cups, 9 of pentacles, Ace of swords, 6 of wands, Page of swords

As for possible careers, I am picking up on the following elements. This person's career relies on two key factors : communication and sociability. With the two aces, it gives me the feeling of something either being very recent or very novel. So either this person has been doing this job since a short period of time or the job they are doing is something that has emerged within the recent times. So it's not something like being a doctor or a lawyer, as these professions have been existing for a while. With the page of swords, this person's work likely involves the use of technology, especially social media. The 9 of pentacles could show that they are working on their own. Either they are their own boss or their profession requires them to work alone most of the time. The 6 of wands denotes a sense of fame and support from people around them. So it is likely that your person is either well known in their community and appreciated for their work, or they have a huge following and interact with a lot of people. Based on all these information, I am deducting that your FS could work in either one of those positions :

community manager, freelance designer / artist

social media influencer, public speaker, spokesperson for a specific company

therapies that involve unconventional ways of healing (crystal healing, sound baths, ASMR, Reiki...)

being a celebrity of some kind, no matter their field of action (modeling, singing, acting, cooking...)

When it comes to hobbies, this person is definitely into creative activities. They could be into singing, writing, painting among other artistic centers of interest. This person may also enjoy spending time alone journaling, being in nature, exploring new places. They may be into horse riding. They could also enjoy learning and reading. This person may like to be the center of attention. In friend groups, they tend to be the one that makes everyone laugh. They could also enjoy competitive activities and combat sports. They are into self care. As communication seems to be very important to this person, they could also use social media as a way to creatively express themselves outside of their usual train of work. For instance, I'm picking up on someone doing Tiktok trends as a a hobby.

Group 2 - Angel The Sun, 4 of cups, knight of wands, 7 of swords, Hierophant

When it comes to your person's occupation, I get the feeling like their position is an important one within society. It is something that is viewed by society as essential to the community. It could be a profession that is very traditional or that was passed down to them from previous generations. With the Sun and the knight of wands, it feels like your person holds a position of authority or at least a strategical position within an institution that gives them a lot of power in terms of decision making and initiative. They could also have to move around a lot, whether on short or long distances. This is a profession that requires them to be flexible and confident but also to be comfortable with working on their own and thinking for themselves because I feel like this person doesn't get much help in their situation. There may be a lot of weight and responsibilities on their shoulders. With the 7 of swords, this gives me a feeling of secrecy surrounding this person's job. There are a lot of things that they cannot share about their work. Also, the 7 of swords talks about strategic planning. Their job requires a lot of thinking and anticipation. The Hierophant can represent big institutions such as religious groups, political groups, government, the army, the educational system, big companies and so on. Based on all the information provided by the cards, your FS could be working in either one of those fields :

medical field : any type of doctor, psychiatrists, forensics, working in a research lab

political/religious field : public figure working for the government, leader of a political group of any kind, spiritual guru, a person of authority within a religious group

teaching, working in the military, being an undercover agent, working for big companies that play an important role in a country's economy, baking and so on

As for hobbies, this person may enjoy traveling, running, horse riding, solving puzzles and riddles. Playing video games. Learning about other cultures and ethnicities. Learning about religious beliefs. Doing community work, praying. Spending time alone in nature away from civilisation. Camping. Trecking. Mountain climbing. Challenging activities. Being in sunny places overall. Going to exotic and remote places. Learning about History. Visiting museums and ruins. Stalking.

Group 3 - Maidens 6 of wands, Empress, 10 of wands, knight of cups, The World

Your person's occupation feels very busy and hectic. Their job is one that is very active and requires them to travel the world for some, or at least to move around within their country. For this group, it is clear that this person's job revolves around physical appearances, sensuality and promoting a positive image of life, of society, of health. This group has the most potential of having a FS that is famous to some extent. I see that your person has to work with a lot of people and is constantly on the go. They participate to various events, they take on many responsibilities and yet manage to be very successful despite the hectic and sometimes unpredictable conditions of their work. Beauty is a major theme here, as well as reputation. Thus, your FS could be working as an influencer, a model, an artist, a beauty aesthetician, a fashion designer, an event promoter, a journalist. Anything that would require them to be in the public eye and promote a certain life style or certain products. They could also be an entertainer, an athlete that is very present on social media, a personal trainer, a reporter. I'm also picking up on flight attendants, employees from big stores in airports or big hotels. Of course we can't omit everything revolving around the performing arts. Actors, comedians, dancers. We also have possibly strippers, dancers, show hosts and so on. Fitness instructors, yoga teachers. For some, your person could have a personal blog or website like a Patreon or an Only Fans account. They could also be a creator of some kind. Maybe they design their own clothes or jewelry for example. They may own a business revolving around cosmetics or a massage institute. The possibilities are endless. For some of you, I feel like your person could be having several occupations within the same field. For example, think of a model that could also be a fashion designer. Or an actor that could also be directing their own movies.

As for hobbies, again, beauty and physicality seem to be the key themes here. There's also traveling. This person is definitely a foody. They may also enjoy buying clothes, collecting objects. They may like to learn new languages or to cook specialities from various cultures. They could also enjoy doing DIYs. Knitting their own clothes, doing their home decor and so on. This person feels very venusian and earthy in their energy. So anything revolving around pleasure, the body, the earth. Gardening. Taking care of their body by doing gua sha, meditation, yoga. And so on.

#pick a card #love pac

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roosterforme · 10 months ago

Text

Aim for the Sky Part 10 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With a little help from his best friend, Bradley rushes to the hospital, panic overtaking his system at the thought of something happening to one of his girls. He was supposed to be the one to take care of you. He felt like he failed.

Warnings: Angst, hospitals, injury while pregnant, potential pregnancy complications, vomit, blood, fluff

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Bradley felt wrappers and empty bottles crunch under his combat boots as he climbed into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut. Nat had the engine started, and she was tearing through the parking garage without a word. This may have been the first time he didn't have the desire to complain about his best friend's driving or her filthy SUV. He felt too numb to really consider anything except time ticking away on the digital clock on the dashboard.

You were fine this morning. Maybe not great, but you definitely didn't appear as though you were going to collapse at any moment. The only thing Bradley knew was that you passed out in your lab and hit the floor pretty hard. When he begged Nat for more information, she just shrugged, her brow pinched with concern while he cried. At least she wouldn't expect him to say anything at the moment, and she wouldn't even get mad if he threw up like he wanted to.

If anything devastating happened to you or Rosie, he didn't know how he was going to deal with it. He should have been checking on you more often at work. He'd been listening to you telling him you were going to try to eat more even though you weren't feeling well, but he hadn't pressed you to do so.

"Oh, god," he choked out, the afternoon sun and bluebird sky mocking him now as he sobbed into his hands. Nat whipped around a corner, honking at someone, and he didn't really care what happened as long as she got him to you and his daughter as quickly as possible. He had been in the car for six minutes already, winding through Coronado, and he was starting to panic more as he thought about how long you might have been unconscious. Or worse, maybe you were still unconscious now. He couldn't think about anything beyond that, because when he started to slip into that unsettling headspace, he felt his hands shake as bile stung the back of his throat.

"Nat, I can't live without her," he gasped, subconsciously knowing he was talking about both of you. Her hand reached out to squeeze his briefly before returning to the wheel, and he watched as she actually cut around a public transit bus to make a turn.

"We're almost there," she promised, and he nodded as his head tipped back against the headrest. If you and Rosie were okay, he was never going to willingly leave your side again. He'd been worried about someone bumping into you at the fucking Hard Deck, and that was nothing compared to this.

"What am I gonna do?" he whispered, eyes squeezed closed as he ran his sweaty palms along the rough fabric of his flight suit, his breathing starting to get erratic. It was his privilege in life to take care of you. Anything you needed or wanted, he'd hand it to you on a silver platter. But the only thing he needed and wanted was his little family. "Fuck."

"Bradley," Nat snapped, shaking him roughly by his bicep as she careened into the hospital parking lot and made a straight shot for the emergency room entrance. "You need to keep it together. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," he gasped, images far more terrifying than anything he'd ever thought about circling his brain.

"If something happened to the baby, your wife is going to need you to be strong."

Her words left him reeling, because he knew he'd never be as strong as you were. That was part of why he loved you so much. And Rose would be just like you, and he'd have two silver platters ready as soon as she was born. He swallowed hard as her SUV came to a screeching stop in front of a door that said AMBULANCE PARKING ONLY, and he fumbled his seatbelt with shaking fingers before jumping out onto the curb and running inside.

There was an elderly man in a wheelchair and a kid with crutches. Someone with a bloody bandage around their head was moaning in one of the seats, but he didn't see you as he came skidding to a halt in front of the check-in desk. "I need to see my wife. She's pregnant." The last word came out like too much of a question for him to handle, and he had to grip the edge of the desk for support while the woman behind it looked up at him with a neutral expression.

"I'll need to see your identification and get approval before you can go back," she told him smoothly as he yanked his military ID out of the badge holder he was wearing and handed it to her. "What is your wife's name?"

Bradley recited it to her quickly and reverently, watching as she typed away on the keyboard in front of her. "Do you know if she's okay? Can you check if she's alright?" he begged, squeezing her desk again as she slowly shook her head.

"I'm sorry, sir, but all I can see is which room she was taken to and which doctors are working on her case."

"But she's pregnant," he repeated in desperation, hoping that if he said it again, the words would still be true.

"I understand," she said smoothly, handing his ID back to him along with a medical bracelet with the date and time stamped on it. "Put that on your wrist, and have a seat while I see if someone can take you back to her."

Bradley stood there, even more numb to his surroundings than he had been in Nat's car. His ears were ringing, and he had a disturbing metallic taste in his mouth, making it harder and harder to swallow as he swayed on his feet. Based on his extensive military training, he figured he must be going into shock, but he would force himself to remain alert until he saw you for himself. Until he felt his daughter moving.

He could hear the woman pick up the phone and say, "Can someone let me know the visitation status of the patient in room seventeen? Her husband is here." There was a pause before she added, "Yes, I checked him in, and he has a bracelet on."

But she wasn't paying attention to him, and he was already moving now toward the double doors that said EMERGENCY ROOM ACCESS: STAFF AND PATIENTS ONLY BEYOND THIS POINT WITHOUT ESCORT. He needed to get to you immediately, and everyone else could literally fuck off. He'd take the double doors right off the hinges with his bare hands if necessary. In fact, he would be more than happy to do so. But as he approached them, ready to get through by any means necessary, one door swung open as someone in scrubs strolled through, and he ducked right inside.

Room seventeen. He read the guide on the wall and rushed down the hallway to his right. The thudding of his heartbeat and the sound of his own breathing was almost deafening as he ran. The fluorescent lights were making him dizzy as he read the number on each door. But then he saw it. Room seventeen was straight ahead, and the door was open a few inches, light filling the gap as he started calling your name. He was almost there as the tears started up again, and he was pushing his way into the room as he rasped, "Baby Girl," at the sight of you on the bed.

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

When you woke up for the third time, you were so dizzy, you turned your head and started to gag. "It's okay," came an unfamiliar voice in the freezing cold room with too bright lights. "I have the garbage can ready for you."

That certainly was convenient. Just when you needed to throw up all of the contents of your stomach, someone was there to help you out. You never had service like that when you were battling morning sickness unless Bradley had been around. You made horrible noises as you heaved, the room still spinning even as you tried to ease yourself onto your back once again. You wanted to say thank you to the unknown voice of the blurry person next to you, but instead you asked, "Where am I?"

"The emergency room at Sharp Coronado Hospital."

That really didn't make any sense. You'd just been at work. Today was your birthday. Bradley was taking you to the hot sauce restaurant for dinner. Then your brain fog began to clear, and you started kicking at the white blanket that was keeping your legs warm in the freezing room. You were in a hospital gown, and when your hands came to rest on your belly, you realized you couldn't feel the baby moving. At all. You shifted your hands around frantically, and while your body was painfully tender, you could feel nothing. No somersaults. No squirms. No kicks. No thumps. Rosie was never this still.

"What happened to my baby?" you asked, voice wrecked with unchecked sobs as the woman beside you set the garbage can down and reached for your shaking hand. "I can't feel her!"

Something caught on the hospital gown, and you realized there were stitches running the length of the side of your swollen left hand. Your rings were missing, which was also scary, but you couldn't think of a single good reason why your daughter wasn't moving around inside your belly when she was always so active.

You sobbed loudly as the woman with you took your hand in hers, and you realized she was trying to calm you down as all of the equipment you were connected to started going crazy with loud beeps. Your pulse and blood pressure were through the roof and getting worse as she finally said, "The baby is okay, but we can't have you going into shock again. Listen to my voice and take deep breaths."

"Why isn't she moving?" you shrieked, still fighting to keep your hands on your belly.

"Because you're on pain medication," she said, and you finally realized there were two sets of monitoring devices, and the one with the wires that led to the band wrapped around your belly were giving a much calmer readout.

"Is that her heartbeat?" you asked, pointing to the screen that was displaying the pattern you were used to seeing when you were at your appointments with Dr. Morris.

"Yes, the baby is just fine. The obstetrician on rotation checked her out by ultrasound before we even stitched up your hand and wrist. But you need to stay calm while the medication starts wearing off. You've got extensive bruising, and we're still treating you for a possible concussion, but we can't keep you on the painkillers for a prolonged amount of time, okay?"

The words almost made sense, but they just didn't. And you couldn't stay calm, because you wanted Bradley. Hot tears leaked from your eyes as you tried to take a deep breath, but you shook from nerves and cold. Your teeth were suddenly chattering so hard, your jaw felt like it was snapping, and you could have sworn you heard someone calling your name. As the nurse took a step away from you, that voice started to sound louder. You squeezed your eyes closed, trying to collect all of your thoughts, but there was no mistaking your husband's voice.

"Baby Girl!" he called out, eyes frantic and face far too pale as he pushed the door open and rushed to your side. His pupils were blown wide as he reached for you, and when he closed his eyes, you saw a tear streak down his face. He blinked a few times like he couldn't be sure you were real, so you reached for his face. He dropped to his knees next to the bed as he took your hand gently in his. "Are you okay?" came his shaky question, and you tried to nod as your teeth chattered. "Is Rosie okay?" His words were filled with something terribly close to agony, and you started crying harder.

"Yes," you whispered, trying to pull him closer. He would keep you warm and make you feel so much better, but his whole body was wracked with horrible sobs as he scooted closer until his lips were on yours in the gentlest kiss.

"Oh my god," he said, voice breaking as he cried. "Oh my god, Sweetheart. You're both really okay?" You were nodding in a jerky motion as his hand slid down to your belly, and you could have sworn the baby squirmed just for him. "I was fucking terrified out of my mind. I'm so sorry I wasn't with you. I love you."

His lips were kissing along your cheek as he kept his arm wrapped around you like you were capable of getting up and running away at the moment. As if you would even want to. It wasn't his fault this happened. It was an accident. You could remember listening to Bickel talking about your new list of tasks and the borrowed equipment from Lemoore, and then you just hit the ground. It was evident that you weren't doing enough to take care of yourself as it felt like your whole system was changing again in your third trimester. You needed to do better.

"I'm okay," you insisted, running your fingers through his hair. He melted into your touch, his face finally relaxing slightly as the color came back to his cheeks. When the nurse cleared her throat, you realized you forgot she was there.

"Sir, I don't think you're supposed to be in here."

Bradley was shooting her a nasty glare as more members of hospital personnel, including a security guard, walked into your room.

"What did you do?" you whispered as your husband held onto you just as gently as ever, but now he was shaking his head.

"I'm not leaving this room until my wife and daughter do," he told everyone in a loud, commanding voice. "You can be pissed off or whatever that I didn't wait to be escorted in, but I'm not going anywhere."

The security guard looked at the nurse, and she simply shrugged in response, but you stopped paying attention to them when Bradley turned back to look at you, his brown eyes wide and sincere as he said, "I'm here now, and I'm not going to let anything else happen to either of you."

Finally, you were able to warm up in his arms, and you calmed down a little bit more with each subtle squirm you felt from the baby. Bradley was kissing along your fingers, being mindful of your stitches when he froze. "Sweetheart, where are your rings?"

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

Bradley wished he smelled better and was wearing something softer, but you didn't complain about the faint scent of jet fuel or the scratchiness of his flight suit as he whispered over and over again how much he loved you. He didn't move an inch from his spot on the floor next to the bed as an emergency room doctor came to check you out again followed by an obstetrician.

"You may have preeclampsia, but you'll need a diagnosis from your own doctor based on historical data from your entire pregnancy. It's hard to tell whether all of the excitement from today is responsible for your high blood pressure or if it's the other way around."

"Preeclampsia," Bradley repeated, giving your fingers a little squeeze. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"It can be," you whispered, and the doctor nodded in agreement.

"Bottom line," the doctor said, tapping the line of fluids being pumped into your body, "you were severely dehydrated and seemed to have a reaction to undereating. The stitches in your hand can be monitored from home until you can see your own doctor next week, so we can discharge you tonight. As long as you keep eating and drinking and stay off your feet as much as possible for the next few days. Healthy meals and rest."

"Okay," you whispered, looking so small and sad in the hospital bed that Bradley wanted to protect you at all costs.

"So I can take them home?" he confirmed, wanting nothing more than to get you cleaned up and changed and tucked into the king sized bed with a tray of food. When the doctor nodded, he sighed in relief.

He had been checking his phone sporadically, which finally helped him solve the wedding ring mystery. Cat took them off of you in the ambulance when your fingers started to swell, and she promised she had them with her. He also knew Nat let Tramp out and was ready to stay the night with him if necessary. She even let him know that she dropped his Bronco off in the hospital parking lot with Jake a few hours ago, and that someone was sitting in the waiting room, ready to give him the keys whenever you got discharged. He wasn't sure who it was, but when you were finally discharged and nearly falling asleep at ten o'clock, he was surprised by what he found.

As the nurse pushed you toward the exit in a wheelchair, Nat, Bickel, Cat and Jake all got to their feet in the waiting room. You burst into tears as Jake handed Bradley his car key and knelt down next to you.

"Don't cry, Angel," he drawled softly. "On second thought, maybe you should cry. Even after waking from that concussion, I hate to inform you that you really are married to Bradshaw." He gave your cheek a little kiss as your tears turned to laughter as he stood up again, and Bradley rolled his eyes.

Nat gave Bradley a hug while Cat fussed over putting your rings onto your right hand for the time being. Then Bickel said, "Do not report to work until you've been cleared by your doctors, Lieutenant Commander. I don't care if that's in four days or four months."

You looked worried now as you ran your fingers along your stitches. "Sir. Did I... break the lab equipment when I fell?" you whispered, and even Bradley could tell by Bickel's face that you probably did. "I didn't mean to."

But there was a reason you liked your boss so much, and you visibly relaxed in the wheelchair as Bickel said, "I'm worried about you, not the equipment, Lieutenant Commander. I'll check in with you on Monday."

When Bradley was finally helping you into the Bronco, you had tears in your eyes, but you looked a lot more relaxed than you had earlier. "I'm so tired, Roo," you whispered as he buckled you and Rosie in with a kiss to your belly.

"I know," he replied, pretty exhausted himself. "I'll take care of everything, okay? I'm just sorry you're not having a better time on your birthday."

When you looked at him and softly said, "It's much better now," he swiped at the tears on your cheeks with his thumbs. "I'm sorry I scared you, and I'll be better about eating, okay? And if I have preeclampsia, I'll make sure Rosie is my number one priority every day, even if I feel awful from forcing nutrients into my body."

Bradley smiled and said, "I just wish I'd been able to take you to Del Mar tonight so you could enjoy some hot sauce." Just then, his phone started ringing in his pocket, and he thought perhaps it was your parents; they'd been biting at the bit for more information after he texted them throughout the day.

"Who is it?" you asked, and he sighed as he checked the number.

"It's the bar I reserved for the evening," he replied, ignoring the call until he got you home.

"Bar? For what?"

He kissed away the rest of your tears and murmured, "Our private silent disco. That's what I got you for your birthday."

You gasped and pulled him close, and even as you cried more, you said, "You're the best husband who ever existed. And I ruined my own night and scared us both half to death."

"Shhh," he coaxed. "We can go a different time. As long as my girls are okay, nothing else really matters. Now can I take you home for a slice of birthday cake and get you snuggled in bed?"

"Yes," you sniffed.

Not even fifteen minutes later, you were standing in the kitchen in your bra and underwear, eating a slice of the cake that said 'Happy Birthday, Baby Girl' which he'd hidden behind a bunch of things in the refrigerator since yesterday. Per the doctor's instructions, he made sure you had plenty of water to drink before he got you in a warm bath and helped you wash yourself.

"Come in," you said softly, stifling a yawn. "I didn't get to do any of the other stuff you planned for my birthday, but I want you in here with me."

With a deep, exhausted sigh, he unzipped his flight suit, your eyes glued to his every movement. His body was aching now from the rush of terrified adrenaline earlier and how much he'd worried about you since arriving at the hospital. He held your left hand above the water and slipped into the tub behind you, his body automatically relaxing as you eased back against him. Then he placed your hand on the edge of the tub to keep your stitches dry, and he held you as he whispered, "I love you," before setting his hand on your belly.

Finally, your heart rate felt normal again, and as the water got cooler, he could tell you were starting to doze off in his arms. He whispered the birthday song, and a smile crept along your lips even though your eyes were closed, and eventually he had to coax you out of the bath and into bed.

Just as your birthday officially ended, you were laying on your side snoring softly, and Bradley kissed your shoulder before he reached for the blue and pink striped notebook and a pen from his nightstand. While he was pleased you were able to fall asleep, he knew he'd be up for quite a while still, processing everything that had happened. The terrible thought of losing you and the baby left him with the realization that he didn't know if he'd actually be able to cope with something like that happening. It made his skin crawl all over again, but he knew he had to process it somewhere.

Hey, Rosie. You'll learn pretty quickly why I love Mommy's birthday so much. Actually, you'll learn pretty quickly that I try to make every day special for her. It's because she makes everything better for me just by being around. Her smile can make the worst day incredible, and her laughter makes me feel like I'm falling in love with her all over again. But today was her birthday, and it was one of the worst days of my life. I was scared that I was going to lose something that could never be replaced. Something I can't live without. I would do anything for you, Rosie. And I would do anything for your mom.

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

When you first woke up on Saturday, your entire body was aching from your fall. For a second, you swore you could hear Bradley and Phoenix talking in the other room, but when you rolled onto your other side with Rose thumping around, you fell asleep again before you could investigate. When you woke up for the second time, you were absolutely certain you could hear Bradley talking to your mom.

You pulled on a random pair of sweatpants and a stretchy maternity tank top, making a stop in the bathroom before heading down the hallway. When you peeked into the kitchen, Bradley had the iPad propped up on the counter, and he had your cutting boards and cookware out as your mom chatted away.

"You have to peel the carrots just like you would a potato, and then you can cut them into pieces about this big."

"Right," he replied, slowly peeling the orange vegetable in this hand and then slicing it while your mom watched. "Should I put it in the chicken broth?"

"Not yet," she instructed. "Wait until you're ready to add the celery and put them in at the same time. And it never hurts to add a few extra carrots."

"Got it," he told her, setting aside three more carrots on the counter. "And tomorrow morning you'll help me with the chicken pot pie again?"

"Of course I will," she promised. "And I'll show you how to make tomato sauce when you're ready."

"Thanks." He wiped his brow with a dishtowel, voice thick with emotion as he said, "She scared me half to death yesterday. I need to make sure she's eating and drinking enough. When Natasha went grocery shopping for me earlier, I had her get these hydration packs that you can add to water along with cases of Gatorade. So those should be good. And if you help me cook every day, I'm hoping she can start to stomach food again."

"It sounds like you have everything under control, but if you want me to fly out, I can be there tomorrow."

Bradley wavered for a few seconds, but ultimately said, "I can handle it with your help over FaceTime. I'll take care of my girls."

"I have all the confidence in the world that you will," your mom told him. "Call this afternoon when she's awake, okay?"

A few seconds later, after he ended the call, you walked all the way into the kitchen while he was filling the crockpot with chicken broth. "Are you making me soup?"

"Sweetheart." He sloshed some of the liquid onto the counter in surprise and then pulled you into his arms. Your stomach was growling, and Rosie was doing somersaults, and you could see the playset in the backyard through the window. "Yeah, chicken noodle soup for dinner, but I can get something else for you now."

You couldn't stop smiling as he listed off all of the food options for breakfast and lunch. "My mom was right. I also have all of the confidence in the world that you'll take top notch care of us."

"You heard my conversation with her?" he asked, running his thumb gently along the skin next to your stitches as you nodded. "Listen, if your parents move to Coronado, I can get my culinary lessons in person. And then I'll have two more people to help me look after you, because to be honest, it's getting harder by the day, Baby Girl. Now how about some avocado toast and a small slice of birthday cake for breakfast?"

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

Take care of your girls, Roo. They mean more to you than anything else. His journal entry made me cry. Rose is already so loved, and I can't wait for her arrival. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 11

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