#and while she would kill it as a firefighter/paramedic whatever

[i-dont-even-know-anymore976]

sooooo probably unpopular but i don’t want May to become a firefighter 😬

it’s actually one of my most hated tropes when they have the family of a character who’s died follow in their footsteps to “honour them.” because frankly - i just don’t think that’s what bobby would want.

not because he wouldn’t think May would make a great firefighter, but because she’s basically never shown any interest in it before and he wouldn’t want her to become one just because he died.

what i do think would be a really compelling storyline tho - May going to the academy and realising she actually doesn’t want to be firefighter. she actually kind of hates it, but how could she hate it because she’s doing it to honour bobby.

and having her really struggle with what she’s going to do before athena explains that it’s not what bobby would have wanted. that more than anything he would want her to be happy even if that means the lafd has to struggle on without her 😅

[ninjatrashpanda]

Little Man

Written for @bucktommywinterfest

Prompt: accidental baby acquisition/bucktommy dads

Rated: G

Tags: established relationship, babies, artistic license foster system

Read on AO3 here.

“9-1-1, what’s your emergency?”

“This is firefighter pilot Thomas Kinard, Station 217. We’ve got a Safe Haven Baby.”

👶🏻🍼👶🏻🍼👶🏻

“LAFD, we’re here to help!” Chimney’s voice rang through the bay the moment the 118’s ambulance had killed its engine. Tommy, who had settled down back in the community area with the baby, couldn’t help but roll his eyes with a fond smile as he got up to meet them. Some things truly never changed. “You know, it’s really weird to get sent to a different fire station. Where is everyone?”

“Out on a call,” Tommy answered, waving Chim and Hen over, the small bundle, wrapped in a pale blue, clearly hospital issued blanket, pressed to his chest. “Mass pileup on the interstate, they’ve been gone for the last three hours.”

The paramedics stopped for a second and simply stared at Tommy and the baby cradled in his arms before sharing a quick glance. Tommy held himself back from rolling his eyes at them. He hated when they did their stupid telepathy we-read-each-other’s-minds thing. It somehow always ended with either a truly horrific diagnosis or him as the butt end of whatever joke they were cooking up.

“And you’ve just been here alone with this one this whole time?” Hen asked, dropping her bag onto the dining table as soon as she entered the backroom, immediately digging around in it.

Tommy shrugged, adjusting his hold on Little Man, as he’d started calling him, who grabbed onto his uniform shirt in response. Almost instinctively, Tommy pulled him closer to his chest in the process. “Wasn’t much of a choice. I’m Man Behind today, and around half an hour ago, the baby box started screaming.”

Chimney’s eyebrow met his hairline. He shared another suspicious look with Hen, one that Tommy somehow liked even less than the one before. “So, how is the little stinker?” Chim asked, turning back to him with a grin that was decidedly not real. He knew what Howard Han’s grins looked like, and that was not it. “You two best buds yet, or what?”

“Oh, he wishes!” Tommy scoffed playfully, deciding to ignore the not-at-all-convincing expression, the corners of his mouth ticking upward as he looked down at Little Man, rocking him gently. “He’s actually eternally on my craplist because he peed on me when I changed him and now my shirt smells like piss.” He started tickling Little Man’s belly, drawing out a few small grunts that could almost be mistaken for a laugh if you were feeling generous, his cheeks growing even rosier than his already pink skin. “You’re a little pee machine, huh?”

Hen’s expression softened, though there was something in her eyes that Tommy couldn’t quite place. She hesitated for a moment before finally pulling a stethoscope out of her bag. “Alright, baby boy,” she said, reaching for the baby. “Time to see how you really are.”

Almost instinctively, Tommy took a step back, pulling Little Man closer. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Can you do it while I hold him?”

Hen and Chimney both froze for a split second before exchanging yet another one of their silent conversations. Tommy immediately regretted speaking. He didn’t know why, but there was something about the idea of handing over the baby that made his chest tighten just a little too much. He could feel the tiny fingers gripping his uniform a little harder, as if Little Man could sense his unease.

“Tommy…” Hen’s voice was careful, measured, but her eyes were scanning him just as much as they were assessing the baby. “I need to check him properly. It’s not that I don’t trust you—it’s just that I need full access, and that’s going to be easier if we put him on the table.”

Tommy sighed, glancing down at Little Man’s face. He was wide-eyed, blinking up at him like he was waiting to see what would happen next. His tiny fist still had a death grip on the fabric of Tommy’s shirt.

It was stupid, really. Hen and Chim had to see if Little Man was sick or had any kind of injuries, that was the whole entire point of them even coming here. But the thought of letting go, even just for a moment, made his stomach twist. His grip on Little Man tightened, his fingers refusing to let go.

Chimney cleared his throat. “Hey, man. We’re not taking him away from you. Hen just needs to check him out, make sure he’s alright. You do want him to be alright, don’t you?”

Tommy’s jaw worked for a moment, like he was chewing over a thousand words but unsure which one to spit out. His arms were locked around the baby, protective in a way that made both Hen and Chimney pause. Not because they didn’t understand, but because they did.

Of course he wanted the kid to be okay. That wasn’t even a question.

He looked back down at Little Man—those big, unblinking, deep brown eyes, the way his tiny fingers were still clenched in his shirt like it was the only solid thing in the world. Maybe it was, for now.

Finally, Tommy sighed again. Longer this time. He bent slightly, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of the baby’s head before murmuring, “Alright, alright, I hear you. Just don’t go swapping him out for another one while I’m not looking.”

Hen smiled gently, but didn’t make a joke. Didn’t even try. She just nodded and motioned toward the dining table, which Tommy reluctantly walked to, still holding Little Man like he was made of glass.

The second Tommy set him down on the blanket Hen had spread over the table, the baby whimpered, reaching out with those same grabbing hands. Tommy reflexively touched one, offering a finger to hold onto. Little Man latched on instantly, calming just a little.

Chim stayed nearby, a soft presence just over Hen’s shoulder while she worked. Her hands were confident and careful, checking pulse, respiration, pupils. She rolled back the blanket to inspect the baby’s body, her face still and unreadable the whole time.

Tommy kept his eyes trained on her movements, and something about how tense his posture stayed made Chimney nudge him lightly with an elbow.

“You okay, man?” Chim said, voice low.

“I’m fine,” Tommy said automatically. Then, realizing how robotic it sounded, added, “Just... I dunno. He’s been with me for the last half hour. Feels weird just... standing over here now.”

Hen looked up briefly at that, locking eyes with Chim for another one of their split-second exchanges. This one seemed less diagnostic and more... personal.

Hen finished her exam and gently pulled the blanket back up. “He’s alright,” she said, smoothing it down with a touch that bordered on maternal. “Vitals are solid. A little dehydrated, maybe, but nothing alarming. He was probably born sometime in the last day or two.”

Chim let out a low breath. “No injuries, no bruising?”

Hen shook her head. “Clean. Someone cared enough to drop him off safely. That’s something.”

Tommy was already scooping Little Man back up, the second she gave the okay. The baby curled into his chest again like that’s where he belonged. And maybe, just maybe, he did. For now.

Hen was packing up her bag when she glanced at Tommy again, this time with something quieter in her expression. “You good if we call in social services? That’s protocol with Safe Haven babies—they’ll send someone over to take custody until a foster placement is found.”

Tommy stiffened. His arms unconsciously pulled Little Man in tighter. “Yeah. I mean... yeah, of course.”

But he didn’t look at either of them when he said it.

Chim leaned against the edge of the table, watching him with a level of gentleness Tommy wasn’t sure how to deal with. “You thinking about keeping him?”

Tommy blinked, startled. “What? No. No, I—I wouldn’t even—”

“You wouldn’t be the first firefighter who’s thought about it,” Hen said quietly, zipping her bag closed. “You’re not the first one to get attached, either.”

Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked down at Little Man, at those tiny lashes and the soft puff of breath against his chest. The room was warm, still, and for a second it felt like nothing else existed outside this strange, still moment.

“I just don’t like the idea of him going to some stranger,” Tommy said finally, his voice rough. “He was crying when I found him. Screaming. Then the second I picked him up, he stopped. Just... stopped.”

Hen walked over, rested a hand lightly on his arm. “I get it. Karen and I have fostered enough kids over the years for me to know how easy it is to get attached.”

Tommy didn’t answer right away. He just looked down at Little Man again, brushing his thumb along the soft edge of his cheek, watching how the tiny face scrunched up and then relaxed like he was dreaming something peaceful. The thought of handing him off to some well-meaning stranger in a clean button-up shirt who’d read his name off a clipboard made his stomach twist all over again.

Hen didn’t push. Neither did Chim. For all their teasing and telepathy, they both knew when to shut up and let someone sit in it for a while.

After a long beat, Tommy finally said, “What would Evan and I have to do to get started?”

👶🏻🍼👶🏻🍼👶🏻

“You want to adopt a baby?”

“Not adopt!” Tommy said, following Buck out of the kitchen into their living room. “Foster!”

“With Safe Haven babies that’s pretty much the same thing!”

“We said we wanted kids someday, right?”

“Keyphrase ‘someday!’” Buck exclaimed, putting the bowl of popcorn down on the coffee table with a bit more force than was necessary. He flinched, cursing himself out before turning around to face Tommy, who carried their beers. This was not how Buck had imagined their movie night. “Not a month after you move into my house! What makes you think we’re anywhere near that stage?”

“Because life never goes according to plan, Evan,” Tommy replied, voice gentle but firm as he handed Buck his beer. He watched Buck closely, waiting for the tense lines of his shoulders to soften, but Buck remained stiff, uncertainty etched in his eyes. Tommy sighed and set his own beer down untouched. “Listen, I didn’t wake up today expecting this either. But you should have seen him, Evan. Tiny and helpless, screaming his little lungs out until I picked him up. He just…trusted me. Immediately.”

Buck groaned softly, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Of course he did, Tommy. Everyone trusts you. Kids, adults, dogs. Hell, Chief Simpson trusts you implicitly, and you stole a chopper once!”

Tommy cracked a small smile, stepping closer to his partner. “Look, I get it. It’s sudden, it’s crazy, and honestly, it scares the hell out of me too. But I can’t shake this feeling, Evan. That little boy needs us right now. He deserves someone who wants him, not someone who just checks him off a list on a clipboard.”

Buck’s expression softened at that, but worry still lingered in his eyes. “I understand where you’re coming from, Tommy. I really do. But have considered the logistics of all of this? I mean, we need a crib-”

“Hen says she and Karen still have Denny’s old one.”

“-and—and clothes-”

“Chim said we can have the ones Kevin’s grown out of. He and Maddie have a lot.”

“-and we’re both First Responders,” Buck finished with an exasperated sigh, letting himself fall down on the couch. “We both work 24- and 48-hour shifts, are they even gonna clear us?”

“I’ll quit my job and be a stay-at-home-dad.”

Buck’s eyes widened. He stared up at Tommy like he’d just sprouted a second head, his mouth hanging open. “You what?”

“I’m not saying I want to.” Tommy shrugged, clearly trying to play it cool, though his eyes betrayed how nervous he was. “But I would, if it came down to it. If that’s what it takes.”

Blinking, Buck opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “You’re serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my entire life, Evan.”

There was a long silence. The only sound in the room was the low hum of the fridge and the muted rustle of the wind outside their windows. Tommy didn’t move. He was waiting for Buck to respond, but Buck wasn’t sure how to.

Because this was huge, right? Tommy was serious serious about this baby, far more than Buck had anticipated. He sank deeper into the couch, the weight of everything settling onto his chest like the baby himself had curled up there. He rubbed at his temple, heart pounding a little faster than he’d like to admit. This wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go. They were supposed to be eating popcorn, watching one of Tommy’s rom-coms, maybe falling asleep halfway through with Tommy’s head on his shoulder. Not talking about cribs and foster care and quitting jobs.

He looked up at Tommy—earnest, steady Tommy, with that frustratingly calm expression that only surfaced when he’d already made up his mind. And Buck knew that face. Had seen it in arguments on the fire line, during wild rescues, hell, even the day Tommy showed up at his door with a duffel bag and that crooked half-smile, asking if he was serious about them trying this “living together” thing so soon after getting back together.

Now, Tommy looked the same. Steady. Sure.

And that terrified the hell out of Buck.

“You know,” he said eventually, looking at Tommy again. “I’m supposed to be the impulsive one in this relationship.”

Tommy chuckled, just once. “Yeah, well. I guess spending enough time around you rubbed off on me.”

Buck gave a tight smile, but there was still a war behind his eyes. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, twirling the cool bottle slowly between his palms. “Tommy… this isn’t like adopting a dog or a cat or something. This is a baby. A real-life, tiny human who will depend on us for everything.”

“I know,” Tommy said quietly. “Believe me, I know.”

Buck let out a breath, loud and shaky. “And what if it doesn’t work out? What if we get attached and then he gets taken away? Or we mess him up somehow?”

Tommy moved to sit beside him on the couch, not too close, not trying to crowd him, but just enough to grab his hand and squeeze it tight. “Then we’ll handle it. Together. We learned how to do that, right?”

Buck glanced at him, feeling the warmth of Tommy’s palm in his. He looked up into his eyes, seeing the familiar crinkles of Tommy’s signature smile around them. Somehow, they, along with the blue shine of his irises, were the most convincing thing in the universe.

“You really think we could do this?”

“I think,” Tommy said, voice soft but sure, squeezing Buck’s hand ever tighter, “we already are.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Buck stared down at the floor, processing, while Tommy waited, patient as always. It was one of the things Buck had admired about him from the start—that unwavering calm, even when everything felt like it was crashing down. He hated how much it could piss him off, sometimes. But mostly, he just needed it. Especially now.

“You’re gonna be one of those annoying PTA dads, aren’t you?”

Tommy’s smile widened into a grin, his eyes glinting teasingly. “Absolutely. Color-coordinated binders and all. I learned from the best in that regard.”

Buck couldn’t help the giggle that escaped him. What an ass. “Using my own powers against me? Diabolical!”

Tommy, on the other hand, didn’t say anything anymore. He just kept smiling, and Buck knew exactly why. He’d seen the shift. The crack in his resistance. He didn’t push, just sat there quietly until Buck opened his mouth again.

“Okay,” he said, his shoulders somehow feeling lighter than they had all afternoon. “Okay. I…I want to meet him first before we make a decision, but…okay. Let’s look into it.”

Buck could hardly brace himself before Tommy pulled him into a bone crushing hug.

👶🏻🍼👶🏻🍼👶🏻

“You realize this is highly unconventional, I hope?” Diedra asked with a sigh, leading Tommy and Buck down the hall of the receiving center. “Not to mention illegal. I’m risking my entire career here.”

Tommy didn’t flinch. “We understand that. And we appreciate it!” he nodded, always a step behind her. He was basically vibrating and Buck wondered just what kind of magical powers that baby held to get him like that. “We just want a chance to see if this is something that could work—for all of us.”

Diedra stopped in front of a door and turned to face them, arms crossed, a weariness in her posture that only came from too many years navigating the system. “You’re not licensed. You haven’t even completed the background checks. There are protocols in place for a reason.”

Buck, who had been quiet since they’d stepped into the building, took a step forward. “We’re not trying to cut corners. We’ll do everything by the book. Training, home inspections, fingerprints if you want them. Whatever we need to. I just want a chance to meet him before we make a decision.”

Fixing them with a sceptical look, her arms crossed in front of her chest, Diedra let out a sigh. “Hen and Karen said you’re a couple? Living together?”

“Yes.”

Buck shot Tommy a quick glance. The answer had been short and to the point, and very distinctly failed to mention that them living together was a more recent thing. He wasn’t sure if Tommy actually thought that they could keep that part a secret for long or not, but for now, he decided to play along.

Diedra looked between the two men for a long moment, her gaze lingering on Buck, who looked like he was trying very hard not to bounce out of his skin. Finally, she sighed again, this time heavier. “Five minutes. That’s all I can give you right now. And if anyone asks, I never saw you.”

“Thank you.” Tommy said, grabbing Diedra’s hand and clutching it between his own. “Seriously. I can’t even begin to tell you how much this means to us.”

Diedra gave a tight smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Don’t thank me until I don’t get fired over this.” Then, turning sharply on her heel, she swiped her badge over the reader and pushed open the heavy door.

The nursery was quiet. Dim lighting cast soft golden halos across pale green walls, and a mobile of stars and moons turned lazily above a crib near the far wall. The space was small, efficient, the kind of room designed for neutrality. It was neither warm, nor cold. Not too comforting, and not too sterile. It was built to feel temporary. Transitory. Not meant to be remembered.

That alone almost made Buck make up his mind. No child should be in a room like this, especially not a baby.

Tommy stepped forward first, his breath hitching the moment he spotted the small bundle lying in the crib. He didn’t say a word, just moved, like gravity pulled him forward. Buck stayed a step behind, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the tiny figure that looked even smaller than he had imagined.

Little Man was awake, his eyes drifting toward the sound of the door, dark and curious. There was no wailing, no panic. Just that soft, quiet alertness Tommy had mentioned. As Tommy approached, Little Man blinked up at him and let out a tiny grunt, one that almost made Buck’s heart melt.

Tommy’s face lit up, as if someone had ignited a candle behind his eyes. “Hi, buddy. Remember me?” He whispered, leaning over the crib.

Little Man’s eyes widened with a small noise, his tiny fists flailing around, almost as if he recognized the voice. Tommy reached in carefully gathering the baby in his arms. And, just like he had told Buck two days ago, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Little Man curled against his chest, his little hand instantly grabbing Tommy’s shirt again.

Watching them, Buck felt something unexpected twist in his gut.

He was used to seeing Tommy with kids—Jee and Kevin, mostly—but this was different. Tommy wasn’t just good with this baby; he fit. Like some missing piece of him had clicked into place the moment he held that bundle. And God help him, Buck felt the shift. He felt it happen.

Tommy turned back toward him, smile soft, eyes wet. “Evan,” he said, voice low, reverent. “Say hi.”

Buck stepped forward, slower than he meant to, trying to suppress the million thoughts racing through his brain. He stood beside Tommy, his eyes flicking between his Partner and the baby tucked snug against his chest.

“Hey there,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re a cuddly little guy, huh?”

As if on cue, Little Man made a soft noise and smacked a tiny fist into Tommy’s collarbone. “He gets violent when he’s hungry,” he chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye.

Buck let out a shaky breath. Tommy was already in too deep, it seemed, but it wasn’t like he could fault him for that. He had only just met Little Man and was already falling under his spell just as much. Biting his lip, he reached out, hesitating just for a moment, then slowly offered a finger. The baby’s free hand latched on almost instantly, warm and impossibly small, barely big enough to fully grasp what Buck was offering.

And that was it. That tiny grip was all it took.

The dam cracked.

Something Buck hadn’t realized he’d been holding inside released, flooding his chest with something big and unfamiliar. Fear, sure. Uncertainty, absolutely. But also awe. Connection. That unshakable feeling that this mattered.

“He’s perfect.”

“I know.”

They stayed like that for seemingly hours, yet only seconds. The warmth of Little Man’s hand around his finger had Buck almost weep, and the ever widening grin on Tommy’s face he could see out of the corners of his eyes told him that he knew how gone on this baby he had gotten in just the two seconds (that somehow were also two hours) they’d been here.

“Time’s up.”

Tommy didn’t flinch at Diedra’s voice, though Buck could see his face falling slightly. He held Little Man for a moment longer, pressing a kiss to his forehead before slowly, carefully, tucking him back into the crib. His hand lingered just a second too long on the baby’s blanket, like letting go physically hurt.

And it apparently wasn’t just Tommy and Buck who felt that way. The moment Tommy’s hand left him, Little Man’s face began to scrunch up, a tiny sob escaping him that quickly became a full blown wail.

Tommy’s face crumpled with it, like each of those sobs was a tug on some thread knotted deep inside his chest. He took a half-step forward, then stopped himself with visible effort, hands fisted at his sides.

Buck stood frozen too, sucking in a, looking from the crib to Tommy, then to Diedra. “Can’t we just—?”

“No,” she said gently but firmly, already reaching past them to scoop Little Man up. “You’re not cleared. I shouldn’t have let you in at all.”

The baby’s cries echoed through the quiet room like a siren, piercing and frantic. His arms flailed in the air like he was reaching for something—or someone—he couldn’t see anymore.

Tommy turned away, rubbing the back of his neck with a shaking hand. Buck could see his body tensing, every muscle going stiff at once, every instinct in Tommy’s head screaming to reach back in and calm the baby down, to fix this.

“I’ll walk you out,” Diedra offered, her voice tight, as she cradled the baby against her shoulder. He kept crying, his sobs intersected by hiccups.

Tommy didn’t reply, just nodded, jaw clenched. Buck followed him in silence as they walked down the sterile corridor again, footsteps swallowed by the carpeted floor. When they reached the double doors to the exit, Diedra hesitated.

“You two are serious?” she asked softly, bouncing the baby a little in her arms. He wasn’t calming down.

Tommy turned back to her, his eyes a little red-rimmed now but locked with hers, steady as ever. “Dead serious.”

“And you’re willing to go through the process? The classes, the interviews, the paperwork, the wait?”

“Yes.”

Buck startled a little at the immediacy of his own voice, surprised it came from his mouth. But he meant it. Diedra looked between them again, her arms still rocking the now-fussy baby.

“If you are,” she said finally, “then don’t waste time. I’ll be over on Monday for the home inspection. Have the forms and letters of recommendation ready by then. The Wilsons, at least, but the more the better.”

Tommy nodded, swallowing hard as he met Diedra’s gaze. “We’ll be ready.”

Diedra gave a short nod of acknowledgment, then glanced down at the still-crying baby in her arms. “He’s not going to forget you, you know,” she said softly, almost to herself. “Babies this young… they remember safety. Warmth. A voice. He imprinted on you.” She looked up again, her expression softer this time. “Don’t make him wait too long.”

With that, the door clicked shut behind her.

For a long moment, Tommy and Buck stood in the chill of the early evening, the sun low and golden, casting long shadows across the parking lot. Buck’s shoulders were slumped, his hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets. Tommy exhaled shakily, turning his face up to the sky as if looking for an answer in the clouds.

“I wasn’t ready to leave him,” he said finally, a slight tremor to his voice.

“I know,” Buck murmured. He reached over, grabbing his hand and intertwining their fingers. “I wasn’t either.”

Tommy didn’t say anything, only gave Buck’s hand a gentle squeeze. For reassurance most likely.

They stood there until the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the city in dusky orange and purple hues. Neither of them moved until Buck finally cleared his throat.

“So,” he said, trying for casual and failing, “letters of recommendation. You think Bobby’ll write one without grilling us into next week?”

A short laugh escaped Tommy at that. “He’ll write three. And you know Eddie will, too.”

“Hen and Karen already said we could count on them.”

“And Chim and Maddie.” Tommy gave a small smile. “We’ve got people.”

With a low hum, Buck studied him for a few seconds. “You still really willing to quit your job if that’s what it takes?”

Tommy’s jaw ticked, and for a second, Buck thought he might backtrack. But then he exhaled deeply. “Yeah. I love what I do, Evan. But that baby…” His voice faltered. “I’d give it up in a heartbeat if it meant that we get to love him.”

His breath hitching, Buck swallowed hard, his heart swelling and aching at once. Yeah, Tommy was serious about this. Far more serious than Buck had actually anticipated. And the worst part was, Buck understood. One look at Little Man had been all it took for him to lose all sense of reason, apparently.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said eventually. “We always do.”

Tommy finally looked at him again, their eyes locking. “This isn’t just me jumping the gun and pulling you into something, right? You’re just as in as I am?”

Buck stepped closer, both hands cupping Tommy’s face, thumbs brushing away the unshed tears at the corners of his eyes before pulling him in for a short kiss.

“I’m just as in as you,” he confirmed firmly after pulling away. “We’re a team. If we’re doing this…” He paused. “We’re doing it together.”

Tommy leaned into the touch, eyes closing for a moment as if grounding himself in that promise. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Buck echoed.

👶🏻🍼👶🏻🍼👶🏻

Chimney loved Hen. He really did. She was his best friend, his sister in all but blood, his work partner, his ride-or-die.

But also, he hated her.

“Hen, please, the banner is fine!”

“Don’t you dare let go of it, Han!” Hen called back up, her hands on her hips. “Buck and Tommy are about to bring their first baby through that door, and if this banner isn’t 100%, absolutely straight by then, so help me!”

“Uh, Buck and Tommy aren’t straight, though,” Ravi, who stood on the ladder opposite Chim’s, said, pleading eyes looking down at Hen. “Maybe the banner shouldn’t be either?”

Hen stopped in her tracks, her eyes flicking up toward Ravi like she was trying to decide whether to laugh or throttle him. Chim could see the exact moment her lips twitched. “Ravi,” she said, voice painfully patient, “if I didn’t like you so much, I’d make you redo the entire balloon arch for that joke.”

Chim snorted, wobbling a little on the ladder. “He’s not wrong, though.”

“Focus, you two!” Hen barked, but she was smiling now, even as she moved to fluff one of the paper streamers hanging from the awning above the patio. “We only get one shot at a first welcome home, and I am not letting those two walk into anything less than perfection.”

From his perch, Chim glanced around Buck and Tommy’s backyard and had to admit it. Hen had outdone herself. Again.

There were balloons and banners, baby blue and soft yellow, the kind that looked like they’d been pulled straight from Pinterest. The “Welcome Home, Little Man!” banner atop a wooden arch adorned with more balloons was the centerpiece, flanked by stars and moons that Ravi had apparently painstakingly hand-cut the night before. The table was stacked with finger food and cupcakes, (prepared by Bobby for most of the previous night) and the massive diaper cake in the center was wrapped in cellophane and adorned with a little stuffed Dalmatian wearing a toy fire helmet.

“Should’ve made this a potluck,” Chim muttered as he adjusted the banner one last time. “You know Maddie’s gonna roast me for not bringing the good egg rolls.”

“She’d roast you either way,” Hen replied smoothly.

“Okay, fair.”

“Guys,” Eddie’s voice called from the garage, “they just pulled up!”

Hen immediately sprang into action like she was commanding a scene on a multi-car pileup. “Places, people!” she snapped, sweeping a streamer out of Chim’s hands. “I want everyone where they’re meant to be now!”

Chim scrambled off the ladder while Ravi nearly tripped coming down his own. From somewhere behind the grill, Bobby emerged with a dish towel still slung over his shoulder. “Where’s the kids?” he asked, brushing his hands off on his apron.

“Inside,” Eddie called back. “Karen’s got ’em watching cartoons so they don’t blow the surprise.”

“You mean like we’re in a sitcom?” Ravi asked as he quickly ducked under the archway. “Does this count as a surprise party if they literally know we’re here?”

Hen didn’t bother answering. Chim saw her fluffing a final decoration as he hurried to his spot, eyes sweeping the yard like her life depended on it. And then—

The sound of tires crunching gravel.

Everyone froze.

The gate to the side yard swung open.

And then Buck appeared first, stepping into the backyard with a wide-eyed, slightly overwhelmed expression that turned into a startled laugh as everyone shouted “Welcome home!”

Behind him, Tommy stepped through holding the baby carrier like it was made of glass, Little Man bundled inside in a soft blue blanket, very much not hospital issued this time, Chim noted. Tommy’s expression went soft the second he saw the banner.

“Oh my god,” Buck muttered, blinking rapidly. “Hen, did you—?”

“Of course I did,” Hen said smugly, already sweeping in for a hug. “You didn’t think I’d let your first foster placement come home without at least a themed party, did you?”

Tommy looked down at the carrier and then up at everyone, their whole chaotic, ridiculous fire family gathered on the lawn with streamers and cupcakes, and Chimney could see something in him just... settle. The tension in Tommy’s body that Chim knew hadn’t left ever since Little Man had first shown up at the 217 seemed to evaporate.

The baby stirred in his carrier at the noise, blinking his sleepy eyes as the sunlight hit his face. Buck knelt beside him instantly, fingers brushing his tiny hand. “Hey, buddy,” he murmured, a sing-songy quality to his voice, “you’re home.”

Chim immediately jogged over and peeked over Buck’s shoulder. “Okay, let me see this little stinkbug. I missed him, let me tell you!”

“Course you did,” Tommy laughed, stepping aside so Hen and Chim could get a closer look. The baby blinked up at them, nose wrinkling slightly. “He tends to have that effect on people.”

“Awww, look at him,” Chim cooed. Then, his eyes narrowed. “Great, I think he’s already judging me.”

“Smart kid.” Hen smirked, wiggling their eyebrows at him. Chim swatted her shoulder. She only laughed at him before turning back to Buck and Tommy. “So, is the parent panic setting in yet?”

Buck looked up from where he was crouched beside the carrier, then over at Hen with a look that was half amusement, half panic and all exhaustion. “Hen, the panic set in before we even left the receiving center.”

Tommy snorted, shifting a diaper bag higher on his shoulder. “Yeah, somewhere between ‘Sign here’ and ‘Here’s his car seat, don’t kill him,’ I think Evan went through all five stages of grief.”

“Hey,” Buck protested, but it didn’t have much heat behind it. He leaned down again and adjusted the edge of the baby’s blanket, tucking it a little closer under Little Man’s chin. “At least I didn’t try to google how many diapers a newborn needs while driving.”

“You were driving!” Tommy shot back, one of his eyebrows flying up to his hairline. “I was in the passenger seat!”

“Google still judged you.”

“Google always judges me.”

Hen just shook her head, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she glanced between them. “You two are going to be the most insufferable parents on the planet, aren’t you?”

Buck stood up, brushing his hands on his jeans. “That depends. Have we reached the part where we start referring to ourselves as ‘Dada’ and ‘Papa’ yet?”

Tommy raised a brow. “And which one of us is which?”

“Oh, I know you think you’re Dada,” Buck replied, already grinning, “but we’re gonna have to arm wrestle over that.”

“God help this child,” Chim muttered under his breath, though he was smiling too, peeking down into the carrier again. “You’ve got no idea what you’re in for, kiddo. Those two are craaaazy.”

Behind them, Karen had wrangled the kids out from inside, Kevin in her arms looking around the group with confused, but curious eyes. Jee-Yun and Mara came running down the lawn like tiny hurricanes, Jee colliding straight with Buck’s legs, clinging to him as she craned her head to look into the carrier.

“That’s my baby cousin?” she whispered, as if speaking too loud would somehow break him.

Buck nodded, slightly bending down to ruffle her hair. “Yeah, that’s him. Pretty small, huh?”

“He is,” Mara said, Jee looking on in awe. “Can we hold him?”

“Later. When he’s more used to so many people being around,” Tommy said, leaning down next to Buck, running a thumb over the baby’s cheek before gently taking him out of the carrier as everyone gathered around. He shot Buck a look, the other man giving a small nod in return, and then addressed the crowd. “Okay, so. You’ve probably already guessed that ‘Little Man’ isn’t gonna be his legal name.”

Tommy glanced around at the sea of expectant faces. Hen and Chim were elbowing each other to get a better look, Bobby, his arm around Athena, stood off to the side with that proud dad energy radiating off him, Eddie with Christopher tucked just beside him, Maddie cradling Kevin while Karen beamed from behind her. Even Ravi, who looked like he might start crying any second.

And right next to him, Buck stood close enough that their arms touched, eyes locked on the little baby in Tommy’s arms like the rest of the world had gone soft-focus.

“So…” Tommy said, bouncing the baby gently in his arms. “We would like you to formally meet Louis Oliver Buckley-Kinard.”

👶🏻🍼👶🏻🍼👶🏻

Later that night, when the backyard was quiet again and the last of the cupcakes had been packed into Tupperware, Tommy and Buck stood together in the nursery. The crib was finally assembled, (Bobby had insisted on doing it. ‘Just Grandpa things’ he’d called it, and if Buck had fought back tears at that, then that was fine!) the rocker in the corner sat waiting, and a small collection of toys handed down by their friends lined the low shelf against the wall.

Louis, freshly fed and changed, was asleep in Buck’s arms, impossibly small and soft and warm.

“You sure he’s not gonna hate the moon mobile?” Buck whispered, glancing up at the slow-turning decor.

“He’s a baby. He’s mostly just gonna stare at it and poop.”

“Fair enough.”

Tommy watched them for a long moment, then crossed the room to wrap an arm around Buck’s waist. “You’re doing good, Evan.”

“So are you,” Buck said, and didn’t hesitate before leaning in and pressing a kiss to Tommy’s temple.

They laid him down together. Little Man⸺Louis⸺didn’t fuss, didn’t stir, just sighed in his sleep and turned his head slightly to the side, already trusting that the world around him was safe, that his dads were there to protect him.

They stood there for a long time, watching him breathe.

“Welcome home, Louis,” Tommy whispered.

And Buck, barely louder than breath, echoed him. “Welcome home.”

[nitewrighter]

Scoops! (Part 1)

Okay, so this fic is of course mainly taking place in the My Adventures With Superman continuity of Superman, but I also wanted to incorporate some aspects of comics Lois in there as well. It also takes a lot of inspiration from Gene Luen Yang's Batman/Superman: The Archive of Worlds, and I wanted to adapt elements of that comic to My Adventures with Superman. So it's a mish-mash! This is my first time writing for Superman in anything other than a shitpost, so I hope you enjoy!

Read it on AO3 here!

-----

“Eyes up, Smallville,” Lois was bobbing a little where she stood. She was in yoga tights and a loose cutoff tee that was apparently a souvenir from a monster truck rally called ‘MeTRUCKolis.’ Her wrapped fists were squared up in front of her. Clark loomed before her, his own legs slightly bent, wearing a beat-up white t-shirt and sweats.

Clark adjusted his glasses and took a steadying breath. “Okay,” he said, bringing his arms up.

“Ready?” she asked. He liked that little flash of fierceness in her eyes.

“Mm-hm.”

Bap. Bap. Bap. She had been talking him through proper blocking, and, from what they could observe, Kryptonian nerve endings seemed to follow a lot of the same logic as human ones, and she was always quick to correct his form or stance. Obviously she didn’t have the same hand-to-hand prowess as that skull-helmeted orange and black guy with the swords, but it was still a good opportunity to actually observe the patterns of a proper fighting style rather than be blindsided by a flurry of blows.

Bap.

Watching Lois, blocking her strikes, he could see there was clear logic to her movements: an awareness of space and a conservation of energy that seemed so far beyond him simply because he still had barely a grasp on what he was able to do to begin with. Rolling with the force of the punches was definitely instinctive for him at this point, but he was still trying to parse out how exactly his own invulnerability worked. Frankly, he didn’t really like the current approach of, “Oh, I guess that doesn’t kill me,” but it wasn’t like he was actively trying to lower whatever unconscious mental blocks he had on what probably could be hurting him a lot more if he let it. He could feel the roughness of Lois’s fist wrappings, the warmth of her skin through them, could feel his own flesh yielding, if only slightly, at the impact. He knew she actually packed a significant punch compared to the average person, but she was holding back in her own way. There was the instructive element to it, but caution, as well. After all, how hard would you want to punch someone who not only was your boyfriend, but whom you had also seen make a massive impact crater on concrete?

Bap. Bap.

Lois was a ruddy, flushed mess, but in Clark-vision she was a dewy and glowing warrior goddess, hair sleeked back with her own sweat. They had been at this for the better part of an hour—their training session interrupted only twice by Clark having to rescue several construction workers downtown when an I-Beam’s crane cables snapped loose, and later to fly a little girl and her grandfather to a hospital when the grandfather had a stroke. He had been trying to get better about letting certain things resolve themselves—Metropolis had firefighters, crisis hotlines, and paramedics, after all—but he had also gotten practiced enough with his super-hearing that he had a much stronger grasp on where the location of certain cries for help were coming from—say, if that stroke victim was also in an affordable housing unit.

Bap. Lois’s fist made contact with his left pec.

“Clark, shoulders,” she said for what was definitely more than the tenth time, “And you’re not even trying to evade.”

Clark wasn’t sure how practical evasion was when he was, in fact, significantly wider than her. Her fists were pretty centered on him as a result. He was great at evading while in flight, maybe because momentum was such a strong factor that impact could easily wrest from his control and he didn’t want to make himself into a missile by getting blasted out of the air, but here, in the laundry room basement of Lois’s apartment building, on a mat graciously lent to them by Steve Lombard, in close quarters with a much smaller (but much fiercer) opponent, there wasn’t a lot of space to evade, nor really a strong physical need to. Lois was going in for a hard left hook now.

“I don’t know if this is really working,” said Clark, finally dipping to one side with superhuman speed, sending Lois stumbling forward, but she righted her own momentum and easily pivoted into a back kick.

Careful, Clark instinctively caught her foot before it met his jaw, letting his own hand briefly follow the arc of the kick so she wouldn’t hurt herself with the sudden stop. He stood there, awkwardly holding her by the brightly-colored trainer.

“Okay, now counter,” said Lois.

“Counter?”

“You have my foot. I’m off-balance and vulnerable. Flip me, or something.”

“Lois, I’m not going to flip you.”

“We have a mat!”

“Look,” Clark let her foot go, “I know you mean well with this, but I never really thought of my powers in terms of fighting. I don’t like thinking of my powers in terms of fighting.”

“Well, don’t think about it as fighting, then,” Lois regained her stance and put her hands on her hips, “Think of it as… stopping a fight before it becomes a fight. We both saw that footage, the more you get hit…”

“The more I get hit,” Clark conceded.

“Right, you get discombobulated, and then overwhelmed. And it’s clear even if you can take those hits, that actually taking those hits uses up energy for you. There’s just a lot of surface area like this,” said Lois, splaying her fingers across Clark’s chest.

Clark gulped at the physical contact and Lois caught herself, a drop of sweat hanging on one lick of hair at her temple, and cleared her throat, putting her hands on Clark’s shoulders and guiding them so that he was standing at more of an angle. “You have to give your opponent less of a space to hit. You just keep coming at people fully sheeted forward, it’s no wonder you’re getting shot or laser-blasted in the back all the time.”

“I’d just rather the laser blasts hit me than…”

“Than the other guys shooting at you?”

Clark’s brow went between a furrow and a crinkle and he glanced off. “I mean, they’re less bulletproof.”

“Clark…” Lois started and then a sigh escaped her. It was one of her ‘I worry about you’ sighs but this one was clearly combined with the actual physical exhaustion of punching him for at least 45 minutes. “I’m gonna get some water.”

“Right…” Clark itched at the back of his neck. “How do you know Krav Maga, anyway?”

Lois gave him a kind of sad sidelong glance before taking a long gulp from her steel water bottle and Clark put 2 and 2 together.

“Oh….” he said quietly.

“One of the closest things we got to quality time, me and my dad,” she shrugged, wiping her mouth. A pause passed between the two of them, a silent, mutual acknowledgement that they didn’t have to re-open that can of worms right now. “Honestly I’m out of practice with Krav Maga specifically, though,” Lois added, “These days I just kick box down at Irons Gym twice a week.”

“I’d like to see that,” the words came out of Clark unthinkingly.

A catlike little smile spread on Lois’s lips.

“I uh—I could probably learn a lot more about proper stance and counters and, um, surface area by watching you in action,” Clark added. Were his glasses steaming up?

“Invitation’s open, Smallville,” she said, setting her water bottle down on the washing machine.  She rolled her shoulders. “Okay,” she said, clapping her wrapped palms together, “Obviously this wasn’t as productive as I would have liked, but we can finish off by showing you my ultimate move.”

“Ultimate move?” Clark blinked a little helplessly.

“Did you know you like, almost never use your legs in a fight?” Lois was hopping in place a little, bouncing her weight between her feet, loosening herself up.

“Again, I don’t really think of my powers in terms of—”

“Think fast!” Lois rushed him, launched herself into the air, twisted in mid-air, and caught him around the neck in what would have been a brilliant scissor-leg takedown if… it actually took him down. Instead, he just kind of ended up rolling back to a near-limbo position to account for her momentum, then brought himself back upright. To her credit, she did keep furiously twisting and squeezing and trying to use her own center of gravity against him the entire time he was doing this, and Clark really wasn’t sure if it was the flight or the super-strength doing most of the work in making her ultimate move… not work… but once he was standing up straight again, she slackened with a frustrated groan, leaving her basically dangling off of him by one leg yoked over his neck.

“…I see what you were going for, there,” said Clark after a beat.

“It would have worked,” Lois’s voice was half a grunt from her semi-upside-down angle, “If you weren’t… y’know.”

Clark thought, Lois, you can choke me with your legs any day of the week, before blurting out, “No, I’m sure! It’s a great move!” and then quickly scooping an arm under her, “Uh—here, let me—”

Getting Lois back to an upright standing position from her current entanglement was a bit like wrestling a large fish out of water, but he managed to set her down with her looking only somewhat sulky.

“It really was a great move,” Clark tried to reassure her.

“It’s not that,” said Lois, readjusting her sports bra, (which made Clark quickly glance off, face burning), “I just… wish we had a safe environment for you to actually work on this stuff! Actually get a grasp on what you can do and how… there’s still so much we don’t understand.”

“I know,” said Clark, not wanting to say If I wasn’t what I was, we wouldn’t be spending one of our few days off like this. Even when I’m not Superman-ing everywhere, this is still eating up both our lives.

There was a familiar fanfare message chime and Clark, desperate to break that chain of thought, quickly stepped over to his duffel bag and grabbed his phone, reading the text on the screen. “Oh hey, Jimmy’s finally done with his thing.”

“His ‘thing?’”

“He wouldn’t tell me what it was,” said Clark, putting the phone back in the bag, “But he wants us both to come over and check it out.”

“Well, obviously we can’t go over there all sweaty, Smallville,” said Lois, grinning, “Looks like you’ll have to use my—-”

Clark zipped upstairs in a blur and after about 15 seconds zipped right back down, super-scrubbed clean, in a completely different outfit to account for the cold weather, and hair still slightly damp.

“…Shower,” Lois finished flatly.

“There’s still plenty of hot water left,” said Clark.

“Cool, thanks,” said Lois, not even remotely trying to hide her disappointment.

——

A shower, a change of clothes for Lois, and short tram ride later, they were at Jimmy and Clark’s apartment building.

“So, when’s Jimmy going to use his Flamebird bucks to get a penthouse?” asked Lois, as they both got in the elevator.

“You know he hasn’t really talked about the money that much,” Clark shrugged, “I dunno if he’s still trying to figure out what to do with it, or if he’s just letting the fact settle in, or what. Then five days ago he starts working on this thing and he’s just been kind of hyper-focused and really secretive about it since then.”

“Secretive, huh?” Lois brought a hand to her chin thoughtfully as the elevator dinged open, “Think he’s being mind-controlled or something?”

“Oh no, definitely not,” said Clark as they walked down the hall, “He gets exactly like this when he’s editing one of his longer video essays. I remember this one time back in college when—” Clark suddenly paused and tilted his head, squinting slightly, as he often did when his super-hearing was picking up something unusual.

“Clark?” Lois looked up at him.

“Some kind of… fizzing sound…at the docks…” Clark murmured. He stood stock-still in that hallway for about thirty seconds before straightening his head again and shrugging, continuing down the hall. “Well, it’s gone now.”

“Look at you, not flying off in a panic every time you don’t know exactly what something is,” said Lois, proudly.

“Baby steps,” said Clark, smiling.

The door to Jimmy and Clark’s apartment swung open before either of them could knock.

“Hey Ji—” Lois started.

“You’re here,” said Jimmy, breathlessly, “Come in, come on! Come in!”

Both Clark and Lois were hustled into the apartment, which was noticeably messier than usual with multiple boxes and foam packaging and those weird plastic air bags which never pop as satisfactorily as bubble wrap.

“Online shopping…?” asked Lois and Clark shrugged.

“Nothing so simple!” said Jimmy, clearly over-caffeinated and already across the apartment, forcing Lois and Clark to follow him, “I’ve finally been able to realize my vision!”

There was a mania in Jimmy’s voice that made Clark and Lois exchange glances and wonder if the whole experience with Monsieur Mallah and the Brain had rubbed off on him more than anticipated.

“What vision?” asked Clark, but they had already reached his and Jimmy’s room and Jimmy was bent over his desk.

“Lady and Gentleman,” he said deeply and dramatically, slowly pivoting around, “I give you, the one, the only,” he was holding something a little bigger than a shot put ball, covered with a dish towel, “the state-of-the-art, the one-of-a-kind, next generation in Flamebird content creation,” he whipped the dish towel away to reveal a silvery dome embraced by an incomplete disk, “Scoops!”

Clark and Lois stared at the object in Jimmy’s hand blankly. It seemingly stared back with its indifferent camera lens at the front, flanked by two triangular metal plates.

“S-Scoops…” Jimmy said, as if they should both know what he was talking about.

Clark and Lois looked up from the object to Jimmy, still clueless.

“It’s a news drone,” said Jimmy.

“Ohhhh,” Clark and Lois said at the same time.

“So it’s like… a new camera?” said Lois.

“Camera? Camera?!” Jimmy held Scoops close, aghast, “Scoops is voice-commanded with a learning AI, has a whopping six terabytes of still image, text-by-dictation, or video memory, is VPN secured and encrypted with its own personal cloud, equipped with the latest in hover-mag suspension systems, is synced with an app on my phone, and tops out at 45 miles per hour.”

“Do we also have to call it ‘Scoops’—” Clark started.

“Yes, yes, you do,” said Jimmy.

“Wait—” Lois glanced back at the boxes, “Jimmy, you put this together yourself?”

“Well, I saw the hover-mag drone frame at the AmerTek pavilion two years ago at the Metropolis Tech Trade Conference, and the processing is mostly AmazoTech AI hardware that wasn’t approved for mass-market release yet but it turns out with the company collapsing, there were a handful of people willing to look the other way and dig through lab storage for me. The lens components and digital recording are a combination of my own favorite camera companies and a handful of bits I had to 3D print myself. And I had to teach myself to solder,” Clark glanced at his hands, noting several bandages on Jimmy’s fingers and a a moleskin blister pad at his left hand’s heel. “So, I mean the components were all there (except the 3D printed ones), I just put them together.”

“But, why wouldn’t the AI tech be approved for mass market release yet?” said Clark.

“Knowing Ivo, probably branding stuff—glossy AmazoTech user interface kind of things, probably,” Jimmy was turning Scoops over in his hands, buffing away at any smudges on the chassis with his dishtowel, “But it responded just fine to my programming.”

“Can I ask how much did this cost you?” asked Lois

“Money is no object when it comes to solving mysteries and changing the face of news as we know it,” said Jimmy, smiling, which both Lois and Clark interpreted to be ‘A lot.’

“Isn’t AmerTek a weapons company—?” Clark started, adjusting his glasses.

“It’s not all weapons,” Jimmy shrugged, “Plus I figured Scoops needed a pretty hardy chassis with all the crazy stuff we get into.”

Clark and Lois still looked more concerned than convinced.

“All right, fine, I’ll give you a demo,” said Jimmy, clearing his throat, “Scoops, activate.”

The lens at the front of Scoops glowed to life and the two triangular plates flanking the lens hovered off of the drone’s spherical dome. Jimmy gently released the drone and it hovered into the air between the three of them, prompting “oohs” from both Lois and Clark.

“Oh, and Lois, can you stand right there?” said Jimmy, positioning Lois at a slightly more open area of the room.

“Me?”

“Yeah, when you hear the cue, just start acting like you’re doing a news report.”

“Oh! Um, okay,” said Lois.

Clark just kept a wary gaze fixed on the little drone now hovering over their heads. Scoops didn’t seem particularly threatening, but Clark definitely had some concerns about something made with both AmerTek and AmazoTech hardware.

“Great start, Scoops, now begin live feed on… Lois Lane,” said Jimmy, taking out his phone.

Scoops seemed to process this command for a second, then shot out the window in a tinkling explosion of glass.

There was a beat of silence. The three of them looked out the jagged hole in the window, watching as the little drone rapidly shrank into the distance through downtown Metropolis, towards the industrial district.

“It was not supposed to do that,” Jimmy said very quietly. He watched the drone zooming off into the distance for several seconds before he realized Clark and Lois were still watching him. He caught himself. “Small hiccup! Not a problem! I’ll simply recall Scoops using my phone.” He demonstratively hit a button on his phone screen, put one hand on his hip, and waited. A long, silent minute passed.

Clark was squinting out the window. “I.. um.. Jimmy, I don’t think it’s coming back.”

This was when Jimmy’s face finally dropped. “Oh come on!” He was tapping at his phone furiously, “It was doing great in the test runs!”

“Do you know where it’s going—?” Lois started.

“I’ve got both its camera feed and a GPS locator for it on my phone,” said Jimmy, “But Clark, can you—?”

“On it,” said Clark, before zipping out of the room in a blur, leaving a flutter of loose papers in his wake. A few heartbeats later and a blue-clad, red-caped figure was soaring after Scoops. Jimmy’s phone pinged. “GPS feed, let’s go!” He said, hooking his arm in Lois’s and sprinting off out of the apartment.

——-

In theory, Clark knew with enough speed he could easily overtake the drone, snatch it out of its course, and yank it back to his and Jimmy’s place, but it turned out the drone had a significant lead on him because he first got sidetracked first swooping a bike messenger out of the way of a taxi that had run a red light, then giving directions to those tourists, then taking that little old lady’s big box of dead batteries to the e-waste recycling center—okay, in retrospect she could have found a nice neighborhood boy for that last task but come on, he was right there, what was he going to do? Say no? But okay, yes, that did turn into taking the whole apartment building’s dead batteries and Lois would say, ‘Clark look at yourself, you are literally taking people’s garbage, we’ve talked about prioritizing,’ but he was already on the way and proper disposal of batteries was important too, wasn’t it? It reduced fire risk and kept toxins from leeching into the soil, so he was basically preventing future crises in Metropolis. Plus, it wasn’t like Scoops was actually in any danger, it was just… on the run, apparently. Gone rogue. The guilt did hit Clark pretty hard once he got back on task. Poor Jimmy seemed so excited about Scoops, and had obviously been working really hard on it—for all his feelings about AmazoTech, Clark wished he could have been more supportive in the moment. At least the drone’s distinctive hover-mag whir made it pretty easy for him to quickly relocate it, but something was irking at the back of his mind as soon as he got a visual bead on it once again.

The fizzing sound from earlier, he thought, watching the drone, It’s going toward where the fizzing sound was.

The drone suddenly dropped into a sharp descent and Clark shifted his position in the air to drop after it. The Metropolis docks. Scoops was now hovering around, seemingly searching among the massive shipping containers. Clark floated after the drone, feeling a bit of unease at his environment. Shipping containers could easily create close quarters, definitely weren’t fun to be slammed into, even with invulnerability, could clatter over and hurt someone if he hit them with enough force, and provided a lot of coverage for people to hide behind and within that super-senses couldn’t account for 100% of the time.

“Scoops?” Clark felt a little ridiculous calling after it, but it responded to voice commands, didn’t it? “Scoops?” He called again.

He heard a low grunt of pain on the other side of one of the shipping containers and quickly hopped over it to see two shipping yard security guards on the ground, one unconscious, the other groaning in pain. Both had steady heartbeats, but there was a faint smell of electricity in the air, and burnt hair.

“Sir?” He dropped to one knee.

The security guard grunted. “The… the bracelet…” was all he managed before passing out. Clark set his jaw before picking them both up and quickly moving them back to a safer location where hopefully their coworkers would find them, then followed the sound of Scoops’ hover-mag whirring as quietly as he could, realizing there was now a metallic resonant quality to the sound—it was coming from inside one of the shipping containers. The sound of the hover-mag had stilled to one location. He reached the source—a shipping container at the very edge of the pier, the doors were swung open. Clark leaned in to peek inside. There were a couple of crates scattered around the interior of the shipping container, of varying age and make.

Unconsciously, Clark set his feet back on the ground.

There was a woman in the shipping container, her back to him, thin hands clasped around Scoops’s chassis as the drone’s single camera eye stared down at her as if to say, ‘Now what?’ Slung across the woman’s back was a chunky chrome gun that seemed nearly as big as her whole torso, but what really caught Clark’s eye was the gleaming art deco spider bracelet on her wrist. All the guard had said to Clark was ‘the bracelet,’ which made wariness prickle on the back of his neck. Why the guard would mention the bracelet rather than the almost comically huge gun was beyond him. So… she wasn’t friendly, probably. But still, he knew he didn’t understand the situation, and just because someone had a very very big scary gun, and had probably knocked out two security guards, that didn’t mean they were incapable of reasonable discussion.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask for that drone back,” he said, putting his hands on his hips, before pausing for a second, and adding, “Please.”

She turned to face him and he froze.

She was in a sleek black outfit, with a cropped black jacket, a low-cut, side-slit black dress over charcoal web-patterned leggings, and short boots. Her hair was bleached white and probably medium length, though it was hard to tell, with short blunt bangs at the front and the back swept up into two sleek, asymmetrical victory rolls. She turned around and gave him a too-familiar catlike little smile on too-red lips, the construction of her face utterly unmistakeable.

“Lois…?” The name came out of him dumbly and he immediately realized Superman always called her ‘Ms. Lane,’ always. She had Lois’s fierce pixie features, looked to be a handful of years older, but there was a sense of both sharp awareness and unfathomable exhaustion behind her eyes that filled him with dread. She had seen things—things she could never bring to share with another human being. It was an exhaustion he caught in his own face in the mirror sometimes, when he had been Superman for just a little too long that day, and the awareness that the world was just so much was weighing on him heavier and heavier.

That catlike smile turned pitying. “Very close, Boy Scout,” she said, before, with a shift of her shoulders, she slung that massive gun down to her hip and hauled it up to point at him.

“Okay,” Clark put his hands up, “Ma’am, I think you should know, you’re not the first—”

She blasted him in a blinding ray of neon coral and day-glo yellow, the force of it slamming him into the shipping container behind him, the steel buckling with a protesting shriek at his impact. Clark still wasn’t sure how his invulnerability worked, exactly, but in that moment, when that beam first hit him, full on in the torso (Surface area—again with the surface area), the image of the charred remains of a skeleton flashed to his mind and his train of thought became a throbbing panicked heartbeat of ‘This would kill a human, this would kill a human, this would kill a human.’ He wasn’t sure if it was 3 seconds or an eternity had passed before the beam ceased and he practically peeled off of the side of the shipping container to drop on the ground with a sad thud.

“The BG-80 Toastmaster,” said the woman, stepping toward him slowly, “Courtesy of Earth-Zero. With some modifications.”

Clark struggled to his elbows and knees and coughed, smoke rising off of him.

She tsk-tsked. “Oh you are squishier in this universe, aren’t you?”

“Look,” Clark’s voice was thick, and it took some effort to raise his head and one hand from the ground to try to motion at her in an ‘I mean no harm’ gesture,  “I know the League of Lois Lanes doesn’t trust me, but whatever’s happening—”

“You think I’m with the League?” she said with a bitter laugh in her voice. She blasted him again. In the back.

Somewhere in the mind-numbing blaze of pain and the sensation of the concrete crumbling underneath him as he was slammed to the ground, he thought, Huh, that really is a lot of surface area. The second blow at least managed to kick better survival instincts into gear. This isn’t your Lois, he had to tell himself, She is very much an active threat. She wants to hurt you. She has hurt you, she is hurting you, so you have to get over the face and the voice and the everything else and act so she doesn’t hurt you or someone else again. The gun—just heat vision it—just concentrate, you’re close enough and it’s big enough that you don’t have to worry too much about hitting her—no, wait—what if it explodes? You don’t know what it’s made of—

There was a series of clicks and Clark looked up at her, willing the heat behind his eyes, but the muzzle of the gun was glowing red now and again, he got caught up in that exhaustion, that pity, in her face. She wasn’t with the League of Lois Lanes? Then what did she want? Why was she here? And what did Scoops of all things have to do with it all?

“Don’t worry,” she said dispassionately, “I’m not hitting you with anything you can’t take.”

“But—” Clark started. But she fired again. The blast wasn’t that overwhelming neon this time, but red, red, red. And then everything went black.

[libraryofloveletters]

Love Delivered To Your Doorstep

Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings: fem!reader, mentions of cheating, break ups and killing/serial killers. (<in a joking context) 

Category: fluff for the most part. 

Word Count: 3.9k

Author’s Note: Doesn’t follow canon, it has a little of buck begins in there but it doesn't follow a strict timeline. It also is written like Buck moves to LA and has his apartment from the moment he moves there while trying to figure out what he wants to do. 

-----

Texting and calling was never your choice method of communication. 

Letters had always been more of your thing. 

Truthfully, they hadn't been your thing until your boyfriend moved halfway across the country for university. The two of you met in high school, freshman year and became inseparable since. Growing together and promising to always love each other no matter what -you always knew that couldn't be true but it never stopped you from telling him. 

When he told you that he was going to be applying to UCLA during your senior year of high school, it came as a bit of a shock to you. The plan was always going to college together, get engaged when you were done school and then married with a house by 30. 

You held out the hope of that being possible until the day he showed you his acceptance letter. 

You were incredibly proud of him but it was real now, he was leaving. 

You watched him pack up his entire life and uproot himself from New York and moved across the country. You sent the first letter to him at what was supposed to be his apartment. 

September 30th.

‘Hi baby! 

Just writing to see how you're settling in. How’s UCLA ? Have you gotten a chance to go around and get to see the place ? I know you’re there for school but you've got to live a little too. Hope your neighbours are sweet, your mom told me it’s a pretty nice place and it’s got a good view, sounds like your type of place. Hopefully I can come visit you soon. 

I started my classes last week. My chem professor is a pain in my ass already, he expects us to read an entire textbook in a week - well not exactly an entire textbook but you get the point. My biology professor is a sweetheart, she showed us pictures of her kids and talked about them for an hour, I didn't realize being a mother was so interesting but she was cool. Also showed us a video of an appendectomy that one of her colleagues performed last week. How are your classes and professors ? 

Did I mention I bumped into Sam at the grocery store ? Yeah, he’s back and he’s not fine to tell you the truth. He seemed like he was ready to snap but that might just be my judgment. He said to tell you hello if I spoke to you so- hello :) 

I’m going to sign off here, I know this one is short but I don’t have much to update you on. Life’s been pretty dull without you. Hope you’re having fun out there, soaking up the sun for me.

Write me back soon, I love you. 

Yours always, y/n’

You mailed the letter the next day, a few weeks had passed before you received a letter back. Except this letter had a different sender name but the same address.

October 22nd. 

‘Hi y/n,

This isn't your boyfriend. (I'm assuming that’s who you're writing too based on the context of the letter) I’m Evan, I live in the apartment you thought belonged to your boyfriend or maybe you got the address wrong, I’m not sure.  I know you were waiting for an update on all these exciting things that are happening at UCLA. I do not go to UCLA nor can I update you in anything exciting that’s happening there, sorry.

Anyways, the reason I'm writing you back is because I figured you’d want to know that this isn't the correct address and the person you were looking for isn't here before you send another letter and get no response. I was debating if I should have even written you back, but here I am, writing you back. 

Your professor for chem seems like an ass to be honest (hope that’s not rude) and your biology professor sounds great, is she hot by the way ? because bonus points for that. Anyways, are you studying medicine ? I'm guessing yes because of the classes you're taking. I'm thinking of signing up to become a first responder but I haven’t decided yet on what yet or if I'm actually going to do it. Anyways, good luck on your classes and the shitty chem professor. 

Hope you find your boyfriend (again, assuming) 

Peace out, 

Evan.’

To say you were shocked would be an understatement. How could the letter you sent to your boyfriend’s apartment belong to someone else ? Why was there someone else living in his apartment ? You dug through your apartment, searching for the paper he left you with the address, you finally found it buried in a drawer.

The address on the paper was identical to the one that Evan sent to you and to the one you sent prior to that. Either your boyfriend was lying or you were losing your mind. 

November 4th. 

‘Dear Evan, 

I'm sorry that I sent the first letter to you and as you guessed, I was looking for my boyfriend who seems to be a bit MIA right now. His mother says that’s the right address and the place that she helped him move into. So I'm not really sure what’s happening there. Anyways, sorry for unloading all of that on you. 

To answer your question, yes, I am studying medicine and no, she isn't hot. My bio professor is a 65 year old woman who loves her college aged kids very much. If that’s your definition of hot, then yes - she's got milf status

Have you decided yet if you’re going to sign up to be a first responder ? That’d be pretty cool. Imagine all the girls swoon over you and how many girls you’d pick up just for being a paramedic or a firefighter. 

Wait, are you into girls ? Or guys ? You know, whoever you're into, just imagine how many of them you’d pick up. 

Also, you’re not a murderer or anything right ? because I rather not answer questions when the police come asking about why I've been sending letters to a serial killer. 

Anyways, signing off for now. 

Yours always, y/n. 

ps. if you do end up bumping into or meeting a guy that looks like my boyfriend, (tall, brown hair, brown eyes. he’s got a pierced ear and a little butterfly tattoo by his collarbone- though not sure why or how you'd see his collarbone) let me know or tell him that his girlfriend is looking for him.

Double ps, what size shirt do you wear ?’

Buck laughed at your absurd question. A person he didn’t even know was asking what size shirt he wore. The letter was set on the coffee table with the rest of the mail, getting buried under all of the stuff he had on there. It was almost the end of December when he realized that he hadn't written you back yet. 

December 21st. 

‘Hey y/n, 

Sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. Things have been hectic over here. I’ve been doing some ‘soul-searching’ - I guess you could call it that and honestly, I don’t think if this whole first responders thing is for me. 

I tried out bartending or well, the technical term is mixologist and I’m liking it so far, I think i’m going to stick with it for now. 

How have you been ? How’s school ? Surely, you’re on break for the holidays right about now or at least when you get this letter. I hope that you're spending the break doing something fun. 

I’m not going to make this very long, I’m sure you’ve been busy with whatever you’re doing right now. 

Also, I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you located the mysteriously disappearing boyfriend yet ? I haven't seen anyone that fit your description. 

well, that’s not true- I did and just to be sure I asked to see his collarbone, he looked at me like I was a mad man so I guess it wasn't him ? 

Anyways, I hope you have a good holiday and you're probably gonna get this sometime between holidays, so merry belated (?) Christmas and happy New Years y/n. 

Peace out, 

Evan. 

ps. medium or large, depending on what it is. Hopefully that answers your question weirdo.’

January 13th. 

The morning of the 13th, he went down to check his mail. A box was there with his name on it, the return address was one he had only seen on an envelope. The box returned upstairs with him, setting it on the counter before opening it. 

Upon opening it, there was a letter and some colourful tissue paper with what seemed like a sweater under it. He opened the letter first.

‘Dear Evan, 

Happy New Years! How was your holiday going ? Did you do anything fun ? 

I’ve been good and school is good too, I'm almost done my first year, isn't that crazy ? Just a few more months to go. 

How’s your job as mr. mixologist going ? I'm sure you’ve met some wild people and heard some interesting stories. 

As for the boyfriend situation, that's over. I’m not surprised to tell you the truth but it still kinda sucks. Anyways, so what happened was that his older brother had come home from college last year and brought a friend with him. She went to the same school as his brother but transferred to UCLA- anyways long story short, they hooked up while he and I were still together and he moved in with her after his mom helped him move into the apartment I thought he had. 

But! I’m single and chilling now so it’s all good. (bonus, she cheated on him and left him so yeah) 

I got you a little something for Christmas and as a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present. I was in the gift shop and it made me think of you. Do you celebrate Christmas? I forgot to check oops. If you don't, count it as a just a “sorry for unloading all my boyfriend drama on you” present? 

I got a large because I wasn't sure if it would fit. I hope you like it. That’s all for now.

Yours always, y/n.’

He unwrapped the tissue paper to see a blue sweater with the letters NYU on it. He smiled, he assumed that’s where you went. It was sweet that you took the time to get him something, even if it was a by the way thing. Not a lot of people would send something to a person they had been talking to via letters and halfway across the country. 

February 12th. 

2 days before Valentine's Day, your least favourite holiday of the year. You weren't looking forward to watching all your friends going on with their boyfriends and girlfriends. The mail had arrived while you were out, you picked it up and headed in. There were two envelopes with your name on it,  a plain white one and a red one. The red envelope was more squared than rectangular, you assumed it was a card- both had the same sender name. 

‘Hey y/n!

Thank you for the sweater, it was nice of you to think of me and get me something. I didn’t know we were doing gifts or I would have sent you something as well and yes, I do celebrate Christmas. 

My job as ‘mr. mixologist’ was going well until I quit. It just didn’t feel like the right fit for me you know ? I'm going to see what else is out there for me. 

Sorry to hear about your boyfriend, he seems like a douche. Who would cheat on you ? You seem great I mean at least you are on paper (did you get my joke, it’s hard to tell) 

Also, remember how I was thinking I might actually give that first responder thing a try? Imagine me as a firefighter, that’s pretty cool right ? 

So I kinda did a thing and signed up and then I got in. I started two weeks ago and it was kicking my ass at first but I've gotten a hang of it and things are going pretty well. There's three other Evans in my class so everyone calls me Buck-I kind of like it. 

The other envelope, hopefully you opened this one first, is a little something for you for valentines. Hope you like it. 

Peace out, 

Buck’ 

The red envelope was on your lap, you pulled the edges carefully not wanting to rip it. Inside was a plain white card with bright red letters that made you laugh. The cover read ‘I’m not sick of you yet!” Opening the card, a $20 fell onto your lap. There was a little message inside that went along with the cash. 

‘Since we aren't together and can’t spend valentines together, there’s some cash to get yourself a box of chocolates and a teddy bear. Happy Valentines Day y/n

Love, Buck.’ 

You smile, this was the first time that Buck had signed with ‘love, buck’ it had always been ‘peace out, buck.’ You tucked the card into the drawer, one you didn’t use very often so you knew it’d be safe there. 

*4 years later*

A few weeks had passed since Buck had last heard from y/n. His last letter to her was at the end of June, telling her all about the day he had spent at Hen and Karen’s. He always described every little detail so vividly that it made her feel like she was there with him- but it was now July, end of actually and moving into August. 

4 years had blown like nothing.

It felt like just yesterday he got the first letter in the mail. 4 years and they still had no idea what each other looked like but they knew every intricate and intimate detail about each other, their lives and the people in it. 

Y/n and Buck had grown rather close over the last few months- more than they already were. Y/n just went through a pretty shitty break up and Buck wasn't exactly big on relationships as of right now. 

He had just gotten home from work, his keys set on the counter when he realized that he forgot to check his mail. Stepping back out, there was a woman in the hallway and boxes scattered across her, leading into the apartment down the hall. 

She must be his new neighbour.

He wanted to go over and introduce himself but she was busy telling the movers where to set her couch so he decided that he would check the mail and then introduce himself when he returned so he did just that. 

Except, she was still busy. 

She leaned against the wall, watching the movers move what looked like a coffee table. She glanced up to see Buck walking by, she smiled and he returned the smile. 

Buck reaches his apartment, the mail in hand and steps in. He sorts through the pile, bills, ads, coupons and no letter from y/n. 

---

Your new apartment was a mess. You decided it was time for a change. You applied to a few hospitals after your break up and the one in LA hired you. So you dropped everything and moved- no family, no ties. 

A fresh start. 

It was a nice neighbourhood and the building was quiet. The neighbours you met were pleasant and welcoming. When you were having the furniture moved in, there was a blonde man who smiled at you and you assumed he lived in the unit down the hall because that’s where he stepped into. 

It was almost 11pm when you finally sat down. You had been on your feet all day and just wanted to eat something. The box with the dishes was beside the couch, you pulled the tape off and opened it. There was an envelope sitting on top of the stack of plates. 

Buck’s last letter to you. 

You must have tossed it into the boxes while packing and you forgot to write him back. Tumbling through the boxes, you find a sheet of paper and a pen from your bag. Sitting on the floor, the paper resting on an unopened box, you begin writing. 

‘Dear Buck, 

I’m sorry I've taken so long to get back to you. I quit my job, and uprooted my entire life. The break up sucked major ass as you know, so I decided it was time for a change. 

Guess where I decided to go ? 

Did you guess yet? 

No, not Canada, why would you guess Canada ? 

LA! 

Yeah, isn't that crazy that I ended up here of all places? Maybe we could get together one day (if you haven’t turned into a crazy serial killer that is.) 

Anyways, that’s why I've taken so long to write. I was packing when I got your letter and I tossed it in a box and just found it again. Anyways, I hope you’ve been good, how have things been at the station ? 

I promise I'll write again with more details soon, I just have to get settled in first. 

Yours always, y/n.’ 

Folding the paper, you slipped into an envelope. The address being scribbled into the back of the envelope. You were about to seal it when the building number caught your eye. 

It was the same number as the place you moved into. The same address, the building number, the same floor. 

The unit number was the only difference. 

There was no way you moved into the building that Buck lived in. 

You knew the address felt familiar when you saw the listing but you didn’t think anything of it nor did it occur to you that you knew the address. 

Stepping out of your apartment, looking at the number on the room and back down at the envelope in your hand. Buck’s apartment was down the hall. 

Part of you just wanted to mail it and keep things as it was but another part of you wanted to meet him, to see what he was really like in person. So there you were walking down the hallway at a quarter past 11 in the dead of the night to meet a man you had been sending letters to for the last 4 years. 

The end of the hallway, you stared at the black wooden door in front of you. Your brain weighing the options right now: he’s a sweetheart and welcoming and makes you feel comfortable or he’s a weird guy who’s been lying to you this whole time and you told him everything about you and now he’s going to kill you. 

Before you could register what you were doing, you knocked on the door. 

Glancing down at yourself, you were wearing a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt from high school that you found in a drawer while packing. Not an ideal outfit, maybe he’s sleeping and you can go home and change- the door opened, a man wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt stood there. He looked like he had just woken up. 

“Sorry, did I wake you?” 

“It's alright,” he yawned, his hand covering his mouth as he blinked away a few tears. “What can I do for you ?” he leaned against the door. 

“Um, this is an odd question-” you shifted, glancing down at the envelope in your hand. “Are you Buck ?” 

“I am, who are you ?” 

“Y/n.” 

You had never seen a man wake up that fast, he seemed surprised, confused and concerned all in one. “How- uh, are you- What ?” he mumbled. 

“I found your letter in the box after I moved, I moved into the apartment down the hall” you point to your left, Buck sticks his head out of the doorway and looks at the door you were pointing to. You were the woman in the hallway that he saw earlier, he knew you looked familiar. 

“I just wrote your letter and I noticed that the addresses were the same, just a different unit number so I decided to come check. Sorry if I bothered you, we can talk another day- it’s late and you probably have work” “Would you like to come in?” he opens the door a bit more, looking to you for an answer. 

“Um, okay sure.” stepping in, you can’t help but glance around. The apartment was similar to yours, the layout was a bit different though. “Can I get you something to drink ? Coffee, water ? A beer ?” he rounded the kitchen counter, you took a seat on one of the chairs by the counter. 

“Water’s fine, thanks” 

He reached for a bottle from the fridge, sliding it over to you. You gave him a smile, he leaned against the counter and was now looking- studying you. 

“I know we’ve talked to each other for 4 years but this is kinda strange” you chuckled awkwardly, Buck can't help but smile. 

“Yeah, it is, isn't it? but can I ask why you moved to LA?” 

“Well all of that was in the letter” you slide the envelope across the counter and he picks it up, opening it. Giving him a few moments to read, you watch his expression like you were hoping for some insight as to how he was feeling or what he was thinking. He let out a laugh, “how’d you know I'd guess Canada ?” you smiled at him, a small wave of relief washing over you for some reason. “Lucky guess I suppose” 

“Do you-” “What are-” the sentences cutting each other off, the two of you awkwardly smiling at each other. “You first” looking at him, he hums. 

“Do you have work tomorrow or are you busy ?” His eyes meet yours, you found yourself leaning forwards towards the counter- towards him. He made you feel comfortable, you’d go as far as to say safe, in a way you’ve never felt before. 

“No, I don't start until the 21st. Why ?” 

“I was thinking - if you're not busy and if you want to, of course. Maybe I could take you out for breakfast and I could show you around ? Or lunch or dinner ? Whatever works for you actually” he rambles, fiddling with his fingers to avoid eye contact. 

A small laugh slips past your lips causing him to look up, his brows furrowed as he studies your face, looking for an answer. 

“Breakfast sounds good, what time should I be ready for ?” 

“Uh, is 10 okay ?” he asks, you nod. “I’ll be ready for 10 then.” 

“Okay, I'll pick you up” he smiles. 

“Buck, we live in the same building.” 

“Oh right,” he chuckles, “well I'll be by yours at 10 then” the two of you smiling at each other. 

“Okay.” 

----

taglist: @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @beth-winchester21 @fernandaweasley2 @yikesyikesyikes95 @hotchsdarling @duhbar1975 @hailsstormthings @averyhotchner  @captainxholmes @venusrosepetal @luke-alvez​ @looney-literature @caitsymichelle13​ @artemishunter18​ @anxiousblanketqueen​

[mha-quotes-and-such]

my headcanons about what 1-A students would be if not in the hero course (but some of them are stupid)

-kirishima: firefighter. he toughens his skin as an extra layer of protection against flames and can just,, walk through them if someone is trapped on the other side.

-kouda: hed have a degree in zoology. next question.

-bakugou: hed still want to fight people but I dont think he'd like being on the ground too much so wrestling isnt an option. he would box.

-tsu: marine biologist. she would be the best in her field and also volunteer everywhere she could on the weekends.

-jirou: an exterminator (hear me out... get it?) she can hear exactly where pests are in walls, floors, ceilings, etc. and we know she isnt bothered by bugs as seen with her working with kouda against present mic.

-mina: alas, she is Too Dummy Stupid (and proud of it!!) to understand chemistry so she would open her own dance studio for little kids.

-sero: works in an office. 9-5. but hes constantly high so it makes it bearable when people make jokes about his elbows. he's still punched a guy over it, though.

-hagakure: government agent. she is harder to pin down because she isn't given much personality (that I've seen) but her quirk would be good for undercover missions or whatever the government does.

-uraraka: manifesting that she'd be the CEO of a successful company and Get That Bread but pay her workers so far above the minimum wage.

-kaminari: youtuber. I'm not going to elaborate.

-iida: probably something boring but Professional like a lawyer. except his own morals get in the way sometimes so he fudges a few cases if he thinks someone is truly guilty regardless of evidence presented.

-tokoyami: stand up comedian. the constant back and forth between him and dark shadow would be very entertaining to watch and his delivery for jokes would be perfect. the audience laughs at him for being emo.

-ojiro: some form of martial arts instructor I dont know what he trained in but he would teach it to younger kids looking to learn.

-shouji: this man is a jack of all trades huh? anyway he would probably be a first responder. he's just Like That and his quirk is useful for listening for survivors of natural disasters and such.

-todoroki: this boy is a trust fund baby he'll most likely never work a day in his life. although he would donate a lot of his dad's money to charity. he volunteers at hospitals.

-aoyama: he's a model why do you ask (he also has his own fashion line, not a lot of people buy from it though).

-satou: some of these are SO easy. professional chef/baker, obviously.

-yaoyorozu: she is also a trust fund baby, but she values hard work so. theres a lot of things she could do with her quirk but for some reason I see her as a writer??

-midoriya: there is nothing that will stop this boy from becoming a hero. that bring said, he would be a teacher. good with kids, is passionate about learning... need I go on?

-mineta: dead. and I killed him.

I could totally see Kirishima as a firefighter! I definitely think he’d want to use his quirk to help people, same with Shouji. I could see him as anything from disaster relief to paramedic

He would need some healthy way to get out his anger, so boxing works, but I could also see him doing most types of fighting (some of the more disciplined ones not so much)

Tsu would totally wanna do something with water (and animals!) I could see anything from marine biologist, to working at an aquarium, and maybe even a sailor (she does have experience after all)

Jirou would do something related to her quirk. While I think she’d probably pursue music (maybe not in a band, she could totally do sound engineering or something) I do think exterminator works

Hagakure would make a great spy and Uraraka a great manager. You can’t convince me other wise

Iida would be an absolutely terrifying lawyer which would work well

Todoroki and Yaoyorozu would both probably do a lot of volunteering and philanthropy (is it still philanthropy if it’s technically not your money??) And Yaoyorozu could totally be a writer or journalist!

As for Mineta, thank you you’ve done us all a great service

[charming-charlie]

One Lucky Kid

Title // One Lucky Kid

Pairing // Evan Buckley x Reader

Warnings // Nothing?? It’s kind of fluffy and fun.

Summary // It’s time to tell Station 118 that you are pregnant, and one person keeps giving you and Buck a hard time.

Word Count // 1.4k

Prompt // Can I request Evan Buckley x reader where reader is pregnant and just general fluff with the firefam please?

The day started out easily enough but once it reached mid-afternoon, peak nervousness hit.

You and Buck were dating for quite some time. The two of you were working out plans to move in together, and it was a headache. Not in a bad way, it was mostly in a ‘there’s too much to do’ type of way. You did not want to give up your place and Buck did not exactly want to give up his either, so there was a bit of back and forth over who was going to take the plunge and move.

Eventually, the two of you reached a nice agreement of finding a new place together, since that was fair and made both of you happy. Once the two of you decided on this new endeavor, Buck swept you up into his arms, carried you to the bedroom, and the two of you had a very fun night.

That was about a month ago.

You started to feel not-so-great after that. It reached a point where one night, you were boxing up some books and Buck was helping, and you felt sick. You had to take a break and your handsome boyfriend was right by your side. He rubbed your back as you sat down and that feeling did not go away for a while.

Once you started throwing up, Buck took you to the hospital. That was when you found out you were pregnant. The two of you were able to keep it quiet because you wanted to tell everyone at the station together.

Today was the day and your nerves were rattling.

Buck had the day off, which he requested specifically for this moment. He was holding your hand as the two of you walked into Station 118. The red trucks were glossy and shiny, the concrete floor looked well maintained, and it just felt inviting. It was a family firehouse. Everyone kept the place looking nice and welcoming, and your nerves were slowly easing up.

At least, until you saw Bobby and Eddie talking by the stairs.

“Hey Cap. Eddie,” Buck said as the two of you made your way over to the fire crew.

“Buck,” Bobby was pleasantly surprised to see one of his best firefighters strolling in on his day off, “what brings you here?”

“Y/N and I have something to share, actually. Can we get everyone?” Buck asked as he looked around. He didn’t see any of his other crewmates yet, but he knew they were around somewhere.

“If this is your way of saying you are moving or switching houses, I will kill you,” Eddie said so nonchalantly that you actually thought, for a split second, that he was serious.

Buck just laughed and shook his head. “No, nothing like that.”

“I’ll rally up the troops,” Bobby said with a smile. He disappeared, leaving you alone with Buck and Eddie.

Eddie and Buck had been best friends since the moment Eddie joined Station 118. You remembered, for a moment, when Buck told you the story. He thought there was going to be some jealousy and some competition with Eddie, but they instantly clicked and became fast friends. Since then, you and Buck hung out with Eddie and Christopher often outside the firehouse.

It did not take long for Bobby to return with the crew. Chim was there, with Maddie on his arm. Hen and Karen were also in attendance. It caught you by surprise since you were not expecting everyone.

“Is everything okay?” Maddie asked as she looked at her brother.

The fact that you both were there was different. Nerves seemed to be spreading their ugly head around the firehouse, since everyone looked different shades of worry.

Buck looked at you and extended out a hand, signaling that you should be the one to tell everyone. You inhaled deeply, smiling a little bit while you looked back and forth from everyone. The words left your mouth before your brain even had time to react.

“I’m pregnant.”

There was a look of surprised and shocked faces across Station 118. For a moment, you stood there, sort of awkwardly, wondering if your news was good news. Buck was still beaming proudly beside you, and you were slowly peeling your eyes off his fire family to look at him. The silence was deafening, borderlining on torture.

And yet it only lasted for a few seconds.

There were cheers and yells of congratulations. Bobby rushed to shake Buck’s hand and moved in to give you a pleasantly surprised but equally welcomed hug.

“Are you sure Buck is the father?” Chimney joked.

Maddie laughed and nodded while walking over to you and capturing you in a sweet hug. “Don’t listen to him. Congratulations.”

She let go of you and moved over to hug her brother.

There were congratulatory hugs from Hen, Eddie, and Karen that soon followed. Your arms were getting sore, the corners of your mouth were slightly aching from smiling, but you were not complaining. It felt so good. You felt included and overall, just genuinely happy.

“My wife is going to want to have both of you over soon for a get together. Be careful, she might try to steal your baby,” Hen whispered to you. Karen gasped and shoved Hen out of the way, shaking her head and you could not help but laugh.

If this was the environment that Baby Buck was going to grow up in, then this was going to be one lucky kid.

“I didn’t know the two of you were trying,” Chim said. A smile was slowly spreading on his lips. As much as Buck annoyed him somehow, it was obvious that Chimney was happy for the two of you.

Hen blinked and slowly turned toward Chim, a look of confusion plastered on her face. “Why in the world would you need to know that?”

“Buck and I tell each other everything,” Chim answered so quickly, his answer being made up on the spot.

Your head snapped in Buck’s direction, and you were desperately trying not to laugh as you played along. Your boyfriend, however, looked clueless. His eyes went back and forth from you to Chim and it took several seconds for him to realize what was happening. You were implying that Buck told Chim everything, like Chimney said.

“Wait, wait, wait. No. No, we do not tell each other everything,” Buck said, taking on the defensive as he looked at Chim.

The paramedic broke into a grin, giving Buck a firm nod. “Whatever you say, man.”

Buck turned to look at you and you just smiled. You pressed your body against him out of pure happiness and felt elated joy course through you when Buck slipped an arm around you and pulled you in close.

“Do you guys know if it’s a boy or a girl yet?” Maddie asked.

You shook your head and turned to look at her, your mouth slightly agape as you readied a response. Yet you were interrupted by a very dramatic—

“I hope it’s not a boy. Can you imagine a mini him walking around? One is enough,” Chim kept egging the two of you on with such antics, only this time, it backfired.

Hen, Karen, Eddie, and Bobby turned to look at Chim. From there, the words were flying out of their mouths and you had a hard time keeping track of who said what.

“What is wrong with boys?”

“Buck would make a great dad to a boy. Have you seen him with—”

“Denny?”

“Christopher?”

“Harry?”

“A mini Buck would be so much fun though. Think of the trouble both Bucks would get into.”

“It’s a known fact that boys are better than girls.”

“That doesn’t sound right but all we have to base that on is May so there’s—”

And it went like that, back and forth, among the members of Station 118. You and Buck just stood there, trying to follow the conversation but it was useless. Buck was lost a long time ago and you just gave up. However, you had to admit, it was kind of nice that the fire family cared so deeply about this.

Maddie was able to break away from the crew and grabbed you by the shoulders. Your eyes immediately snapped on hers and she was smiling so brightly, you could not help but smile in return. “If you need any help with anything, let me know. Howie won’t be invited,” she said, pushing you into her arms and squeezing you for another hug.

You hugged her back and nodded. It was times like these that made you realize just how lucky you were, and how lucky your child was going to be. Sure, you and Buck may get a hard time from some people, but the jest was part of the charm. If there’s one thing you know for sure, it’s that Station 118 is full of charm.

[roberttchase]

Manner minded or double trouble? Both SO matty? Maybe Christie looking after him?

double trouble: [character] is sick and injured.

I will be writing the manner minded one separately :) I hope you enjoy this (somewhat more detailed than I'd originally planned) ficlet.

Send prompts to my inbox.

+ + +

If you were to ask Matt Casey if he thought he was lucky, for the most part he would answer with 'no'. Yes, he's lucky enough to have Sylvie Brett as a girlfriend, lucky to have gone to the fire academy, lucky to have been promoted to a lieutenant and then captain. But he also had an emotionally abusive father as a teenager, a murderer for a mother, his girlfriend of eight years was killed, his wife left him. For every good thing, it feels like there are three bad things in his life.

So he can't even really say it's a surprise when, while on scene helping squad rescue two victims in a car that's balancing precariously close to the frozen Chicago River, Matt loses his balance, slips from the hood of the car, and falls almost twelve feet onto the ice that then suddenly cracks underneath him, submerging him in below forty degree water. Nothing in his life is ever easy. Intense pain radiates from his chest, his body feels like it's on fire, and then nothing.

From there, the scene is absolute chaos. Sylvie and Violet are both off shift, spending the entire week in Joliet helping teach at a conference. The two paramedics that are on scene are instantly calling for backup, while both Severide and Tony frantically suit up in scuba gear for precaution. Boden's yelling orders, but the three other members of truck are all frozen, staring at the large hole in the ice, from which their Captain is currently very much not getting out of.

+ + +

"Christie, you really don't have to do this, Severi-"

"I know what Severide said, but I'd feel more comfortable if you stayed with me." Christie Casey frowns, looking at her younger brother. He's at least four shades paler than he should be, cheeks flushed and eyes dull. Stubble consumes the lower half of his face, and the firefighter looks exhausted. She can't say that she blames him, not with the hell that he's gone through the past thirty six hours.

She'd gotten the call from Stella Kidd yesterday, a kind but shaky voice telling her that Casey, Matt, had fallen into an icy river, and was at Gaffney Chicago Medical Center being treated for two broken ribs and mild hypothermia. Arriving half an hour later, she'd been taken into Matt's room, where they had him on enough pain medication he was basically incoherent. One of the doctors had explained to her that the next few hours were important for any person who'd almost drowned- inhalation of the river water had occurred, and aspiration pneumonia was a large possibility. For a naive moment, Christie was certain that Matt would be fine.

Matt's never that lucky.

It's how she finds herself now, half glaring at her brother, who's been given instructions to stay with someone for the next forty eight hours, while his body wars with itself. The red haired doctor had explained that unless the mans fever reaches over 102, or his breathing deteriorates, he's allowed to stay out of the hospital. Severide's offered to let him stay at the loft, to take next shift off and watch over his best friend, but she tells her brothers best friend no. She needs to be able to watch over her little brother, if his paramedic girlfriend can't.

She's already talked to Sylvie, had called her only an hour after getting the call herself. They'd come to the conclusion that as long as someone was there to watch Matt, she needed to finish up the week for the CFD and CEMS.

"You ready to leave? I'm bringing you back to my place. Violet's got the guest room all ready for you."

Matt blinks and then nods, shoulders curved in slightly, one arm wrapped around his side. He looks a little woozy, though that could be from the pain pills being pumped through his body. That, or the fever he's sporting. April wheels him to the front of the hospital while Christie grabs her car and pulls it up to the curb.

Half an hour later, Matt's being helped into the guest room, where, sure enough, the bed has fresh sheets and a few extra pillows have been added for the man who isn't supposed to lay flat on his back. She gets him under the covers, thankful he's cooperating, and by the time she's back with the meds in a little plastic cup, as well as a glass of water, Matt's asleep.

"Matt, hey, you have to wake up and take your medicine, then you can go back to sleep, okay?" She shakes him as gently as possible, not wanting to hurt his ribs any more than they already are. She must knock something loose though, because not a second later he starts coughing, low and harsh, and his eyes flutter open. Gasping for air, they wait for his chest to stop spasming. His arm is cradling his side and she feels terrible, wishing she could help.

"I just need you to take this medicine, then you can sleep again," she promises, holding the cup out for him. When he nods, the woman lets the small pills tumble onto his open palm, and soon he's swallowing them tiredly.

"C-Can you stay?" The words are quiet and hang in the air as she turns to leave. Pausing, Christie turns back and is struck by just how young Matt looks, laying there with fever flushed cheeks and sallow skin.

Moving slowly, the woman gets into the other side of the bed, carefully shifting to get comfortable.

"Just like old times huh?"

She knows he's referring to their childhood. Christie can't help but smirk a little at the memories.

"Are you talking about when you would come crying to me because you were afraid of the dark?" Her tone is teasing, and instinctively she lets her fingers find his hair, running them through it just like she did when they were young teens and their father had been yelling at them.

A laugh bubbles out of Matt's throat, but it quickly changes to coughing, and it takes a moment for Matt to calm down, sipping water before replying.

"I was actually talking about when I was eight and caught whatever that punk across the street had after he coughed on me. I remember I was out of school for a week, and you stayed with me as much as you could."

She remembers it well.

+ + +

Matt never gets sick, not when he was a baby, and not now. She's always been the one to come down with colds or strep throat, and Matt always manages to avoid germs. He had been sick once when he was a toddler, once, but other than that, she can't remember him ever even getting a runny nose. And then Michael Jeffries goes and coughs all over him on the bus when she's in fifth grade and he's in third, and Matt's record of not getting sick goes down the drain.

It had been on a Monday. That following Thursday afternoon, Christie's waiting for Matt to get on the bus when their bus driver tells her that her brother has apparently gone home early. The whole ride home, the eleven year old is upset, not for her brother, but at the fact she wasn't taken out early either. Why did Matt get to go home and play when she didn't? By the time she's walking into their small home, the blonde is stomping her feet and slamming the door behind her, ready to ask why her stupid brother gets such special treatment.

Instantly though, she realizes something is wrong. Mommy isn't downstairs like she normally is, but instead of being worried, the girl let sher anger build. Running up the stairs, her ponytail swaying behind her, Christie's ready to yell and throw a tantrum, but she freezes when she sees her mom sitting on Matt's small twin bed. She's holding their big blue bowl that she always gets out when Christie's stomach is sick, and Matt is throwing up, coughing and spluttering after, while she rubs his back. Cautiously, Christie walks into the doorway.

"Mommy...what wrong with Matt?"

Nancy and Matt look up, the older woman rubbing her sons back.

"Matt's just not feeling well honey, he'll be alright."

Christie frowns and looks at her brother, whose cheeks are a startling bright pink, his skin pale.

"He looks really sick..." Suddenly she's not mad at all anymore, instead she's worried, no, scared. Matt doesn't get sick. That's his superpower, just like hers is liking vegetables.

Before any more words are spoken, Matt coughs and lets out a strangled little whine. "M-Mommy..."

Christie turns her face away as Matt gets sick this time, not wanting to watch anyone throw up. Instead, she goes and busies herself with finding paper and her crayons. Sitting down on her bedroom floor, the eleven year old goes to town with making her brother a get well soon card, the only thing she knows she can do in this moment.

That night, while she and mommy eat downstairs, Christie can hear Matt crying with Daddy. The second she finishes her food and washes her plate off, the blonde runs upstairs, wanting to make sure the younger boy is okay. She stops in front of his room, but no one's there, the twin sized bed with dark green sheets is empty, even his beloved stuffed bear is gone. Walking further down the hall, she sees the two she's been looking for in her parents king sized bed.

Matt's laying against Daddy, Bear clutched in his hand, his ear against the boys lip. Daddy smiles at her and puts a finger to his lips, telling her to be quiet. Nodding, Christie tiptoes in and peers at them both, before climbing in putting a delicate hand on Matt's shoulder, hoping he'll be ok.

+ + +

Brought back to the present, Christie feels Matt's forehead and sighs. "just try and sleep okay? I'll be here if you need me, okay? I won't let anything bad happen to you Matt."

It's as if it's all he's been waiting to hear. It takes him all of two minutes to fall back asleep, head resting against his sisters shoulder. She supposes that this can be the start of all the years she'd missed taking care of him after she'd left for college. He deserves it.

[detectivereyes]

hi and welcome to jamie overanalyzes 911 lone star s2 trailer. this post is long and everything is under the cut bc of that and also bc i know there’s a lot of people out there who are trying not to see anything (which i wish i was you, that’s incredible) anyway if you’re like me and are losing your mind trying to make sense of it all... read below the cut

first just looking at the some screen grabs from trailer that i think are important to pull out

→ this has already been discussed but i’m pretty sure between this clip and the one where you can see the front side of the figures, that it’s owen and tim standing there (owen has the helmet on that says “captain”, tim has “paramedic” on his jacket)... this is important later

→ oh hey gwen

→ “one of our own died today” and it’s not owen, nancy, paul, or marjan... and my prediction that the figure that is comforting nancy is tommy... 

okay there’s not much to really dissect there.. i mean i could probably go shot by shot and give my takes but tumblr is already annoyed at how many pics i’ve uploaded and what people really want to talk about is that last note...

so which one of their own died today???

well we know for sure it’s not owen (they’re not killing off rob lowe lmao), nancy, paul, or marjan (unless the second two screenshots are just supposed to throw us off but this is confusing enough already so let’s just assume they are crying over whoever died)

we can also assume that it’s not tk bc of how much ronen posts, or carlos or grace since they aren’t firefighters. 

my initial thought is that it’s tim rosewater: mostly bc of the teaser trailer (see screenshot above) but at the time i really thought they weren’t actually going to kill anyone off. i also noticed mark elias was still posting. but now i’m not so sure. the main reason behind this reasoning is that nancy is shown crying, and she’s tim’s paramedic partner. of course everyone is going to be upset if someone from their house dies so nancy would be upset over anyone. however, she is shown in this trailer and considering she’s not a main cast member, i think that’s pretty significant. additionally, tim is also not a main cast member so he’s more likely to be killed off than any of the cast members who are. it sucks and i liked tim a lot so i hate this option but i’m going like 90% sure it’s him. but in order to explore other options, let’s dive a little deeper into other possibilities, shall we?

someone else mentioned that it could be michelle. i don’t really think it would be since they made it pretty clear that liv tyler couldn’t film due to travel restrictions. i also think fox would want to promote that liv is returning for one or so episode(s) if that was the case... then again other shows have successfully kept guest appearances secret so who knows really? it would make sense so i wouldn’t entirely discount it. it would make sense that nancy would be upset, and it’s a way for michelle to exit the show. but i hate that bc then the door is closed for liv to ever return to the show. overall i don’t really see this happening (mostly bc of covid and the logistics of getting liv to film...) but then again, i feel like it’s important to keep this in mind

besides tim, the character that makes the most sense would be mateo. i hate this option but this is where we’re at unfortunately. showing marjan upset? he’s also not shown as much in the trailer.. however i think you can see him for a split second at one point during a wildfire scene. if i remember correct, the wildfire episode is occurring around 2x04 (???) and the lava thing whatever you want to call it, is happening at the end of 2x01, into 2x02. so if that’s the case, and assuming that whoever dies is killed during the lava thing (yeah i just keep calling it lava thing..) then i think mateo is safe. please let me be right.

two other options that it could be but i find unlikely are judd and buttercup. judd isn’t shown in the trailer except for briefly during the lava thing (??? i could be wrong tho) but i also don’t think killing him off would make sense bc he’s connected to grace and also like he lost his entire team?? they spent so much time building his story during the first season that i honestly can’t see them killing him off so early in the second. and with buttercup... they can’t kill the dog. it makes sense but also it’s mean and i think it’s more implied that whoever died was killed on a call. i could be wrong here and maybe the lone star writers really do hate us but also i just won’t accept that.

finally, and one that i think is probable, the person who dies isn’t someone we know. all owen says is “we lost one of our own today.” of course one of our own could imply literally someone from the 126. but also it could just imply a fellow firefighter, since it is considered a brotherhood. maybe it was someone they teamed up with from another house and got close with? maybe it was a friend of judd’s? i mean hell maybe it was a floater they brought in for tk while he was on medical leave? we really don’t know but i think it’s important to keep this option in mind as well and not get to ahead of ourselves.

i love that we’re going to look back on this next month and be like wow it was so obvious?? we really thought that it could have been ___?? but for now i’m going to be losing my mind over here if anyone wants to join me. my official guess is going to be tim but i would love to hear what anyone else thinks!! my ask box and dms are open. 

edit, re the eddie/ryan theory: there’s some valid points but overall i don’t think this one makes sense mostly bc this death is happening on 911 lone star... if 911 was going to kill off one of their main cast members, they would do it on their own show. not in a spin off crossover episode... if only bc there are plenty of casual viewers out there that only watch 911 and would have no idea that eddie died. no matter how upset the network is with everything that happened with ryan, they can’t kill him off on a show that isn’t his, it just doesn’t make sense.

[tarlosprompts]

Can I prompt a Judd helping calm Tk down after a rough call, and just having that brotherly fluff vibe?

Days Like These

Claimed by Red💋

Paramedic TK, Firefighter Carlos

Warnings: cursing, violence, minor character death, trauma, bombs, blood, past addiction, mention of guns, anxiety, beginnings of a panic attack

Notes: Let me know if I missed any warnings! (I think I got them all). Sorry for this taking so long and sorry if it’s not what you wanted. If you want me to rewrite it, just let me know!

Most days, TK loved walking into work. Being a paramedic made him happier than he’d been in a while. Being pushed by his father to take the exam was his best decision. Sure, he enjoyed the Adrenalin of the fires, but he had always wanted to help others more than just handing them off the medics. Now, he got the best of both worlds. If his dad needed his help on a fire, he would help but he also got to treat others. It was a win win for not only TK, but his father and the medics. 

TK tended to spend more time with the paramedics than the firemen on calls, so his father had to take on another firefighter. That’s how TK met the most beautiful man in the world...Carlos Reyes. Carlos transferred in and, had TK not been reeling from Alex, TK would have asked the man out. Sadly, TK was apprehensive about starting another relationship, though that didn’t mean that TK didn’t take time to admire the lovely view Carlos Reyes gave. 

Something about Reyes drew TK in. They became good friends and amazing partners when needed. Carlos knew an awful lot about treating patients meaning that he could help out when the medics were swamped and TK would be paired with Carlos when Owen needed his help on calls. Through that, they became best friends. They shared everything with one another...well, almost everything. TK most definitely wasn’t going to tell the man of his Texas sized crush on him...nor was he going to mention his past drug addiction...how would he even bring that up? Just as they’re talking about their last call, ‘yeah, by the way, I have a drug problem and I overdosed before the move down here.’ That was absolutely not happening.

TK was roused from his thoughts as the ambulance stopped. He followed Michelle and Gillian out of the vehicle, turning around in confusion. “Are we sure this is the right place,” he asked. 

“This is what dispatch said. Gillain, call them and ask again,” Michelle stated. Gillian stopped walking, holding the radio between her  hands as she spoke. 

As TK and Michelle moved farther towards the abandoned warehouse, something felt off. “Michelle, we should wait in the ambo. This doesn’t feel right,” TK whispered. 

“We still need to check it out, make sure that no one needs help.”

Gillian caught up, voice shaking slightly, “I can’t contact dispatch.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean no one is answering. I even tried calling, but we’re out of range. I have no signal.”

“‘Chelle, we should-”

Three red dots focused on the three paramedics’ chests. “Don’t move and you won’t be shot.”

_____________

TK was having a hard time reframing his situation. His therapist had suggested the idea of changing the way he looked at a situation in order to find the silver lining...he really couldn’t find the silver lining in having a bomb strapped to his chest. Nor could he find the silver lining in not being to help Gillian as she bled out in front of him. He couldn’t find the silver lining in not being able to help Michelle as the last of the bomb vest was strapped into place. 

Being ushered towards the ambulance sent another wave of panic over him. They were probably going to transport them somewhere more public to have them take out more people. They wanted to make a statement. TK could feel himself shaking as the ambulance started moving. He could only watch as Michelle tried to check on Gillian before her head was thrown to the side by the butt of a gun one of the men held. 

It wasn’t long before the ambulance stopped and the doors opened. Gillian was unceremoniously pulled from the ambulance and thrown to the ground, pulling shouts from bystanders. TK and Michelle were roughly pushed out of the ambulance and pulled into a building. It took a couple of minutes to realize they were at the dispatch center. While TK wasn’t one to hope for bad will on specific people, he certainly hoped Grace wasn’t working and that the men who were forcing their way through the center would suffer the most painful of deaths. 

The gunshots shocked TK. It brought him back to the day he used the battering ram to get to a cardiac failure and a little boy pulled the trigger, hitting him. He flinched as the gunshots went off. He was placed directly across from Michelle, in the center of the dispatch hub. “Here’s how this is going to go,” the head of the group called. “Everyone does as I say, everyone goes home...even these two lovely paramedics. Anyone tries to be the hero...well, we’ll see if someone pulls the trigger faster than I press the button on one of these paramedic’s vests.”

The room was silent as they watched the man in the center of the room. “You, you, and you,” he called out, pointing to a couple of dispatchers, “on the phones. Follow what the three men behind you say and everyone stays alive.”

Hours passed and TK could do nothing but watch as the group got more anxious. Whatever they were planning wasn’t going to plan and that was going to end up in someone getting hurt. The head man cursed before walking towards TK, “you’re coming with me. Seems like your friends came looking for you,” he growled. 

TK dug his feet into the ground. There was no way in hell he was going to let this man take him out for his father to see him strapped to a suicide vest. The punch that slammed his head to the right, split his lip and had him stumbling. He was practically dragged out of the dispatch center. The light assaulted his eyes and it took him a minute to adjust. 

When his eyes adjusted, TK grimaced. His crew was there along with multiple APD members and front and center was his dad. Shit.

TK wanted to be anywhere but there in the moment. He wished that the men’s plan had all worked out and they had left...though if he was being honest, he knew that once their plan concluded, they would have killed all of them anyway. He’d heard them talking about ‘no witnesses’ and what not earlier. He paid no attention to the man talking to the officers and firemen standing around. He didn’t want to look at his father and crew, didn’t want to be in this situation at all. 

“...and if I don’t get what I want or if anyone tries to breach the building, Pretty Boy and his friend are going to blow up the dispatch center,” the man called. 

“You don’t actually think that they’re going to listen to you, do you,” TK heard himself ask. He’d always had a big mouth, didn’t really like bullies. “You’re all the same. You think you’ll place some demands and maybe some of them get met, but really you’re just buying yourself time. They know you’re buying time and are preparing to move in. No one believes that once you’re done with your plan that you’ll let any of us live. You probably already plan to set these vests off once you’re through with whatever it is you’re doing.” TK expected the backlash. He definitely knew how to piss people off. 

He could hear yelling from multiple people. He couldn’t make out the words as he was pulled back into the center. He was shoved to the floor in the middle of the dispatch work floor. His head bounced off the tile and TK barely bit back a groan of displeasure. Hands found his neck and TK jerked to try to move them. “You think you’re so smart? Before they even know what hit them, they’ll be going up in smoke because of you and your partner. You think that by talking like that, you gave them some insight to our plan? Because of you, we had more time to finish what needed to be done!”

TK coughed as the man let his throat go. “I think you’re bluffing,” TK gasped. 

Michelle made a noise of protest as the man rounded and hit TK’s face. “You’re lucky I need you alive to keep your crew out from here. I hear that you’re that Captain’s son. He won’t let you come to any harm.”

_____________

It feels like forever before there’s more movement in the center. The men were wrapping up their plan. TK met Michelle’s eyes, they both nodded. They weren’t going down without a fight. Before they could get up, four doors busted open and flash bombs were going off.

TK covered his ears, eyes shutting to protect him from the bright flashes. Everything was muffled sounding. Opening his eyes and uncovering his ears, TK had to blink multiple times before he could make out what was going on in the room. S.W.A.T. had taken out the men and were escorting them out. The leader of the team was making his way towards Michelle and TK. 

“I’m Captain Pack, I need you both to stay still while the bomb squad gets in here to get these vests off of you.”

TK nodded, his ears picking up a scuffle near one of the entrances, “that’s my son in there! Let me see my son!” 

TK licked his lips. “Can you tell my dad that I’m fine? Tell him to let the bomb squad do their job and I’ll be out in a bit?”

“You’ve got it, Strand.”

_____________

TK hated hospitals. They reminded him of when he overdosed, having woken up in a hospital room with his dad crying and telling him that it was going to be okay. TK hated hospitals. He would tell the hospitals that he didn’t want narcotics when he was hurt and the workers would just give him looks like they could judge someone they don’t even know. TK fucking hated hospitals. 

After the bomb squad had gotten rid of the vests, another team of paramedics had checked them out. He had seen his crew in the background as he had been loaded into an ambulance. He knew it was only a matter of time before they showed up. He was allowed to head home and had already texted his dad to let him know. 

A soft knock on the door frame brought TK’s attention to it. Judd stood in the doorway , arms crossed, an unreadable look on his face. “Owen wanted to come get you, but we got a call out right after your text. Seemed like a big one. I offered to come get ya.”

TK nodded, slowly getting off the bed and grabbing his uniform shirt. It was silent as they walked to Judd’s truck. Gingerly, TK pulled himself into the truck and Judd shut the door behind him. TK knew that Judd wanted to talk as the man started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. TK, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to be dropped at home so that he could burrow under the covers of his bed and never come out again.

“You had a shit day,” Judd stated as he pulled up to a red light. 

Not expecting the remark, a laugh bumbled out of TK’s mouth. “No shit,” he responded. 

“Reyes was really worried about you.” Before TK could respond, Judd continued. “We all were. We knew Michelle would be fine, but you have a tendency to get yourself hurt and generally run your mouth off at people. And, let’s be honest, even when you’re not actively trying to piss someone off, you tend to get hurt anyway.”

TK glanced at Judd as he rolled forward as the light turned green. He could see the set in Judd’s jaw which told him how Judd was trying to keep his emotions in check. “To be fair, I don’t look for trouble...I just sometimes invoke the wrath of the trouble that has found me.”

A small chuckle passed Judd’s lips. “That’s a nice way of saying that you couldn’t shut your big mouth long enough to get out of there without your pretty face getting bruised and cut up.”

TK rolled his eyes, “it was like I couldn’t stop myself. He always turned so red when I talked back to him. I think part of me wanted to see how red I could get him, if he’d turn purple or something.” TK could feel the heaviness that had been on his chest starting to lift as he and Judd fell into their regular banter for the rest of the ride home. By the time they reached his house, TK didn’t feel jittery.

Spotting a familiar Camero in the driveway, TK felt a small smile grace his face. “Looks like Lover Boy wants to make sure you’re alright for himself,” Judd smirked. 

TK could feel his face heat up. “We’re friends, Judd. Just like you and me. You wanted to make sure I was alright and he wants to do the same.”

Parking the truck, Judd turned to him. “We both know that’s some bullshit. I don’t see why you don’t make a move on him. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He looked like a kicked puppy today when everything happened. He wanted nothing more than to storm into the dispatch center and get you the hell out of there. That man cares about you, TK. You deserve someone that good, someone who thinks of you as the man who hung the moon.”

TK shook his head. “Carlos doesn’t like me like that, Judd. Why would he? He doesn’t even know how fucked up I am,” he mumbled. 

TK wasn’t expecting the light slap to the back of his head. His eyes shot up to Judd’s, a frown firmly on his face. “You’re not fucked up. You’ve had some fucked up situations in your life that have shaped you into a strong, capable man, TK. Your past addiction doesn’t make you weaker, it makes you so fucking strong. You’re allowed to have reservations, but Carlos is gone for you, Brother. You love him, he loves you...take the chance and jump. He’ll catch you.”

TK studied Judd’s face, seeing nothing but the truth. He wiped his palms on his pants, licking his lips. “I’m blaming you when he laughs in my face.”

Before TK could exit the truck, Judd placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this, TK. Feel better soon, okay? Grace wants to have you over in a few days for dinner.”

TK nodded his head, letting himself out of the truck and waving Judd off. Turning towards his driveway, TK could see Carlos leaning against his vehicle. He walked slowly over to the man, feeling some of the heaviness from before return. He could feel the tears building up behind his eyelids and his throat closing from the stresses of the day. 

As he got closer to Carlos, the man pushed himself off his car. TK didn’t give Carlos time to talk, he just dived in, burying his head in Carlos’ chest and winding his arms around the man’s middle. Immediately Carlos wrapped his arms around TK tightly but not tight enough to hurt the slightly smaller man. That’s when the floodgates opened and TK let himself cry knowing Carlos was going to catch him.

TK doesn’t know how long they stay in their embrace, but he almost instantly feels embarrassed. He backed out of the embrace, motioning towards the house and walking away from the man. Shakily, he unlocks the door, leaving it open for Carlos as he makes his way to the couch. “If you need to talk-”

“I-I don’t want,” TK blew out a breath, “I don’t want to talk...about it...I-there’s nothing to say. We were sent there by chance, we didn’t know it wasn’t an emergency. We were blindsided. We had to make sure there was no one that actually needed our help and even though I told Michelle that it didn’t feel right and we should leave, we had to check. There’s nothing to talk about, okay? They shot-they shot Gillian and wouldn’t let us help her and they strapped bombs to our chest and put us back in our ambulance. They threw Gillian on the street without letting us help her and they took us into the dispatch center and they threatened to use us to kill everyone in the center. They were brutish and I fucking hate bullies so I just had to tell him off like the little twat I am. I know it was stupid, okay?” TK took a shuddering breath in. All the anxiety from the day came rushing back. “And-and he dragged me out there and I saw you guys and I just kept thinking that I couldn’t put my dad through losing his son. I couldn’t make him watch me get blown up but I just kept antagonizing the man because I hated the idea of him. And I just-I kept thinking about you and my dad. I wanted to get back to you both because I love you both so much and the thought of hurting you kills me,” TK was breathing raggedly at this point. He’d just admitted to Carlos that he was in love with him.

Tears fogged TK’s vision as his breathing worsened. Hands were on his face soon after, words muffled in his ears. TK was spiraling. Lips touched his and TK caught his breath, tensing before quickly relaxing at the calm hands stroking his face. As the lips separated from his, he opened his eyes to see Carlos already looking at him. “I hope that was okay. It was the only way I could think to keep you from going into a panic attack. Our first kiss shouldn’t have been that, but I didn’t know what to do and-”

“Carlos,” TK’s voice was soft and ragged. “The only reason that wouldn’t be alright is if you didn’t mean it.”

Carlos rested his forehead against TK’s. “I meant it and so much more, Amore.” 

“Promise?”

“Forever.”

[crackedoutgiraffe]

The Stars in Your Eyes

Part 2 of To the Moon and Back

Part 1: Chapter 1

5/1/2013

3 months and 15 days after Maeve was killed. Reid still had dreams about her. He wouldn’t talk about them with you, but he would wake in terror and be calling for her. 

With the case in South Dakota, Reid finally opened up to Rossi that he wasn’t sleeping well. Rossi told him to give in to his dreams and play out his ‘fantasies’. 

That night Reid told you about his dreams and you told him it was ok that he still thought of her. He felt bad that he couldn’t get over her and that he was engaged to you. There wasn’t much you could do to help him, but you did what you could. 

He told you that he had a recurring dream where Maeve would ask him to dance and he would always say no, that night he danced with her. The dreams stopped after that and you two resumed your normal life.

5/25/2013

The Replicator, as he had been named, was terrorizing the entire team. When the team finally got to wind of his deeds, he was already plotting his plans to murder Strauss and Blake. After the case in New York, the team decided to stay the night and get some rest before the flight back home. 

Strauss was missing and it was the team’s job to find her. Hotch stayed with her while she died and Rossi stayed with her at the medical examiner. There were few clues but the team eventually got to the conclusion that the replicator’s real name was John Curtis, an FBI agent. 

After the helicopter crash, almost being blown up, and having numerous surveillance photos taken of you, some of which were more risque (Morgan never let you live that down), Reid saw just how close someone could come to hurting you. 

He begged for you to take a break and let him protect you but you refused and continued on with your work. He would barely leave your side during cases and made you promise before every case that you both would make it out alive. 

1/24/2014

With the arrival of the new section chief, everyone’s behavior shifted, JJ’s more than most. Will came in on the 23rd saying that JJ hadn’t come home and that she was missing. The team quickly did what they did best and started to look for her. You, Reid, and Garcia broke in the Secure Compartmentalized Information Facility to dig up whatever information you could on JJ’s state department mission.

Everyone brought their heads together and figured out that the best way to get JJ and Cruz, who was also found to be missing, back was to call Emily. She gave valuable information about JJ’s deployment that led the team to find out who the mole was. 

When the team got to the server facility they were holding JJ in, you, Emily, and Hotch ran to find the entrance to the basement. The three of you moved down the stairs and to a single room. A man was standing next to a blonde and holding a knife to her throat. Hotch fired two shots into his back. He was dead on the spot. 

JJ was beaten up. Her hair looked wet and her shirt was partially unbuttoned. Cruz was laying on the ground in a pool of blood. You were quick to run over to JJ, but she pushed you away and begged you to help Cruz.

Emily helped her down and then came to help you and Hotch. By the time you helped him up, JJ was gone. Cruz helped direct Emily to the roof, and she was quick to follow. 

You and Hotch helped to carry Cruz back up. When you returned to the surface, the team was still engaged in a firefight with the goons. Hotch carried Cruz and you covered him. Reid, Blake, and Morgan knocked out the last gunman and joined you in the main lobby.

JJ and Emily joined you all moments after a body had fallen from the sky. JJ gave her greetings to her teammates and Reid was overjoyed to see her ok.

The next night JJ was discharged from the hospital and Rossi invited everyone out for drinks. During the outing, Reid never let you out of his sight. That night he asked you, “Promise me, promise me that whatever happens to us, we pull through. No matter what happens neither of us can die.” He held out his pinkie and you gave him the only acceptable answer, “I promise.”

3/14/2014

Reid had almost been killed by a man with rabies the day prior, but now it was time for you and Morgan to have your fun. 

Morgan told you he got Garcia’s and Reid’s physical tests waived, but he had a prank he wanted to pull. Three days ago he forged an email saying they had to take the physical endurance tests. They had been spotted at the track on the 12th getting ready to take their test before they were called away for a case.

Morgan and you strolled up to the track in disguises and surprised them. They were not happy, to say the least. 

Morgan and you were yelling words of encouragement their way and helping them train. When they were all tuckered out, Morgan told them the truth, that Morgan had their tests waived. They weren’t happy with your deceit. They tried to run after you two, but they were too tired and you were too fast. 

When you drove Reid home that night, he gave you the silent treatment. You tried to joke with him about it, but he was not having it. He eventually broke and started laughing when you had to help him up to the apartment because his muscles were so sore. 

3/8/2014

The team was called to a case in Texas to investigate prostitutes killed with carvings in back. The team looked at all the evidence and the new body that showed up and put an APB out for Justin Mills.

Within hours Mills’s car was spotted outside of El Lobito’s diner. The team rushed over there with numerous cops. Mills was inside freaking out and the cops were outside preparing to take him down when a shot was fired.

The bullet hit the sheriff and the shootout began. Blake tried to go and help the sheriff who was bleeding on the ground. You heard Morgan scream Reid’s name and terror flooded your body. You ducked down behind the car door you were firing from and turned around to see Reid bleeding on the ground and Morgan trying to drag him behind the car. No matter how much you loved him you still had a job to do. 

The police officers rushed the building and JJ and Morgan followed him. You went around to the back of the police car to find Blake talking to Reid and calling for help with her hand over his neck. The blood was flowing faster than she could stop it. Morgan and JJ caught up to Mills and shot him. 

The ambulances arrived right as Morgan and JJ returned from the abandoned building MIlls retreated too. The paramedics got Reid on a gurney, Morgan hopped in the back with him to get stitches. The deputy came over to give you and Blake information on how to get to the hospital.

When you arrived Reid was wheeled into surgery, and Morgan was treated for his wounds. Blake paced through the waiting room and you stayed in a seat tapping your foot. Eventually, the silence got to you. You stood up and walked out of the hospital and to a nearby bench. Rossi found you sitting by yourself and came to sit with you.

*

“Did you know that he wants to have kids, can you imagine that?” you put your head on his shoulder. “Spence as a dad.”

“That child would be so lucky,” he moved his head to look at the stars, “they would have the best parents in the world.”

*

You and Rossi sat in silence for another hour before JJ came to tell you that her, Morgan, Hotch, and Prentiss were heading back to the station. Rossi got up to join them. You told JJ you would call her when Reid woke up. 

You made your way back inside to find Blake and Garcia with a surgeon. 

*

“What’s going on?” you rushed into the waiting room.

Garcia gave you a quick hug, “Doc, this is Y/N, Reid’s fiance.”

“Agent,” he extended his hand and you shook it, “Dr. Reid is going to be fine, he’s actually very lucky. Couple centimeters to the left and it would have hit his carotid.”

*

You sighed with relief and went to the room number the doctor provided. Reid was laying in the bed with bandages on his neck. He looked so peaceful. Garcia started to lay out some of his favorite Doctor Who figurines. 

Eventually, he woke up and you gave him a big kiss. Blake had gone back to the team but you stayed for a little longer. He eventually told you to go back and join the team. You reluctantly obliged and headed for the station. Your breathing was erratic when you walked in. Hotch noticed this and forced you to stay at the station to look through old files for anything they missed. 

It wasn’t until later that you were told about the corrupt deputies. It wasn’t after they tried to kill Reid a second time that Hotch told you about the danger you were in at the station. 

Before sunrise, the town was wiped of their corrupt deputies and everyone could rest easy. The team stayed in Texas for an extra day to give Reid more time to rest.

On the flight home that night, Reid was asleep on the couch with his head in your lap and you petting his hair. 

1/27/2015

6 months until your wedding. You got a call from Hotch in the middle of the night that you needed to go to a cabin in the woods. Hotch told you to not tell Reid.

When you got to the cabin the team was standing around a body on the floor with three bullet wounds. It was Jason Gideon. 

Hotch called Reid an hour later with the news. He drove his beat up VW bug to the cabin. When he walked in he looked bad. His hair was disheveled and he had been crying. 

During the entire case the team tried their best to comfort Reid. He had been through so much during his life. 

Just like with Maeve he stopped being able to sleep. He would wake up at obscene hours of the night and leave your bedroom. You would follow him out to see him playing chess by himself. 

*

“What’re you doing?” you asked, groggily.

“I’m trying to finish his last game,” his eyes never left the board.

“Gideon’s?” you sat down on the floor across from him. He responded solely with a nod.

*

The two of you played through his game, and eventually Reid fell asleep on the couch. You covered him with a blanket and returned to your bed. 

Your entire wedding was planned. All you had to do was keep Reid alive for six months.

[buckleysjareau]

you light my fire

Emily's face stays complacent as JJ reaches out her hand to shake, only dropping the smug act and smiling genuinely when she reaches for JJ's hand. "Welcome to the team, Pennsylvania Petite."

-

Jemily Firefighter AU

Chapter One out of Three

Word count: 1829

Read on AO3

Moving from a small town in Pennsylvania to a city as big as Los Angeles had been a culture shock for Jennifer “JJ” Jareau. Not only the setting had been completely different, but when it came to the calls she’d answer as a firefighter, she was astonished. Going from small house fires and silo rescues to earthquakes, tsunamis, and generally odd calls was definitely something new. Something she could get used to.

Applying and transferring to the Los Angeles Fire Department had honestly been a very spur of the moment thing. Her recent divorce had just finalized so she had nothing keeping her there anymore, no more connections left there for her. So, she brought it up with the Fire Chief of LA and East Allegheny and got it all worked out. In three weeks, the town she’d spent the entirety of her thirty years of life was behind her. 

Her first day on the job, she realizes that it was the best decision she could have ever made. She loved her team more than she ever thought she could love co-workers. 

There was of course the captain of the one-twelve, Captain David Rossi. She knew who he was, had watched his Firefighter Guide videos while she was in the process of getting accepted into the academy over and over. To say she was a little shocked to hear a voice she definitely had imprinted in her mind would be an understatement. Embarrassingly enough, the first she says to him is ‘Oh my God, you’re the reason I didn’t completely obliterate the Chief’s interview.’ He doesn’t even get the chance to greet her.

Then there’s Derek Morgan, a smooth talker with a lot of that LA confidence she’d grown used to. He asked a lot of questions, seemed to notice a lot of things. He’d noticed the tan line where her ring used to be automatically and when he’d asked, he’d been hit upside the head by the Captain himself. 

She meets two of the paramedics as Rossi - the only time you should call me Captain is when we’re out on calls, don’t be so formal here - gives her the tour of the firehouse. 

“Callahan, Reid, this is Jennifer Jareau from Pennsylvania.” Rossi introduces. “She’s come highly recommended by Chief Hotchner.”

Reid’s eyes widened in recognition. “You’re the firefighter from Pittsburgh that did the Maneuver on a man with a gun.” 

Callahan recognizes her then, too. “That’s right! Alvez wouldn’t shut up about it, and kept showing us the video. Think you’ve got a fan here, Jennifer. Understandably, though. You’re a badass.”

JJ smiles. “It’s nice to meet you both. You can call me JJ, by the way. I’ll also be sure to have a pen at the ready if this Alvez guy asks for an autograph.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” Reid jokes. “Welcome to the family, JJ.”

JJ squeezes her eyes tight in embarrassment when she replies with a you too.

“You know, for someone who smoothly executed the maneuver on a man with a gun, you think you’d be a smoothtalker.” JJ hears behind her and her heart stops the second she turns around to see the embodiment of Heaven.

“Leave her alone, Prentiss.” Callahan giggles. “Just ignore her, she likes to tease.”

“People have their moments.” JJ tries to act cool. “I’m JJ, nice to meet you.”

Emily’s face stays complacent as JJ reaches out her hand to shake, only dropping the smug act and smiling genuinely when she reaches for JJ’s hand. “Welcome to the team, Pennsylvania Petite.”

Her handshake is firm and a little tight but her hands are so soft and JJ has to stop herself from asking what lotion she uses, not wanting to embarrass herself twice in one minute. 

“And what should I call you?” JJ thinks she’s flirting, is she flirting? Is this how people flirt? Suggestive, teasing tones? It’s been way too long.

“You can call me tonight.” Emily grins. “Or you could just call me Emily.”

Someone whistles from the right of them, and it’s then she realizes the others have gone in different directions and it’s just them. And someone new, they’re here too.

“As much as anyone loves sexual tension you can cut with a knife, I have to cut in before we get a call and I don’t have a chance to introduce myself. I’m Luke Alvez and will happily let you do the maneuver whenever.”

JJ laughs. “Happy to take that offer. Nice to meet you, Luke.” 

“Come get breakfast before you can’t!” Another guy calls down from the loft. 

Emily places her hand on JJ’s lower back and she prays that Emily can’t feel the chill that just went through her at her touch. The last time she felt like this was when she met Will at that bar in New Orleans seven years ago.

Emily doesn’t pull her hand away until she’s stopped pushing her to the table. JJ wants to curse herself for being the biggest bisexual disaster anyone will ever meet, but really, anyone would understand if they saw Emily. No one could blame her.

“Ooooh, is this the new probie?” The man standing the sink asks.

JJ scoffs. “I haven’t been a probie in ten and a half years, thanks.”

The man puts his hands up in defense. “My mistake, my mistake. I’m Matt Simmons, welcome to this chaotic, dysfunctional family we’ve got at the one-twelve.”

Introductions are made with three other firefighters and breakfast is half way done before the bell rings. JJ suits up in record time as she focuses on what type of scene they’re about to go to. There’s a five car pileup on the 101, no fatalities, fire and medical needed.

“You get many pileup calls in Pittsburgh?” Emily’s voice comes through the static of their headset.

“I actually worked with the East Allegheny Fire Department, thirty minutes outside of Pittsburgh so not really. It was mainly farm fires and silo rescues but we’ve been called to assist in major accidents in the city, so it shouldn’t be too new.” 

“Farm fires and silo rescues? Were you a farm girl, JJ?” Simmons teases. 

“I was more into sports than I was into anything farm related but I did have a horse. Blue.” 

“The jock and the goth trope, nice.” Alvez jokes and Emily smacks him before JJ could ask what he means. 

When they’ve pulled up to the scene, JJ’s eyes automatically land on a pregnant woman, clearly distraught. She’s holding her stomach in agony and it makes her skin crawl. Her first call with the one-twelve and memories are already being triggered.

Compartmentalize. Focus. Listen to instruction.

“Alvez, Jareau, I need you with CO2 on these vehicles now. Prentiss, Simmons, make sure everyone is out safe and see who needs help. Reid and Callahan are triaging. Let’s go!”

She goes through the motions. She’s used to this, this is the job she’s done for the past ten years so it comes naturally while her mind lets her suck every emotion back in while she’s there. Alvez is already looking at her weirdly, like he can sense something’s up but there’s no way he could know why she’s gritting her teeth so hard they could crack. 

“You alright, JJ?” Alvez waves a hand in front of her face. “Focused?” 

She shakes her head to clear whatever mental fog was there. “Peachy. What’s next?” 

It’s the end of the day and after the first call, she’s not ready to go home to an empty house. 

Emily and Kate look over. “JJ, you coming out tonight?” 

Emily Prentiss, you saving grace.

“Are you paying?” She raises an eyebrow. “I’ll be there.” 

“Just ride with us, we’ll get your car in the morning.” Kate offers. “It’ll be good getting to know the newbie.” 

Emily snorts. “You know Alvez will always be the newbie. Oh, you get to meet the best 9-1-1 dispatcher tonight.” 

“Penelope, this is Pennsylvania Petite, Jennifer Jareau.” Alvez grins. “I can finally stop being the newbie.” 

“Be quiet, Newbie.” Penelope smirks. 

“Told you he’s always going to be the newbie.” Emily grins. “Alright, shots are on Luke tonight!” 

“Not fair!” 

“Aw Alvez, it’s my first day, you can’t expect me to pay?” JJ winks. 

Luke sighs. “Only because you’re a legend.” 

“Atta boy.” JJ grins and pulls on Emily’s hand, dragging her to the bar. Holding her hand feels nice. Being near her feels nice. Being at this bar with her feels so much nicer than she felt meeting Will. 

Not to say she doesn’t love Will, she probably always will love him, but he’s not here now. He’s back in Pennsylvania, and JJ needs to start new. 

She hears Penelope literally pur beside her. “Look at him.”

JJ turns her head to find Morgan dancing against three girls. He’s got moves, she’ll give him that, but she’s seen better. 

“Look at him move, he’s like a cat.” 

Emily snorts. “More like a dog.” 

“He did not ask him to dance. They asked him.” Garcia defends and JJ feels before she sees Luke tense beside her. Someone’s jealous.

“Okay, he’s a cat. An alley cat.” Emily smirks and turns to Luke. “Stop with the desperate pining and ask her to dance with you, moron.” 

Luke sighs. “I’m not drunk yet.” 

Emily just shakes her head and looks at JJ. “So what’s your story, farm girl?” 

“My story?” 

“Yeah. Why’d you move to LA? Tell me about your ex husband, if you want. Or ex wife, I don’t discriminate obviously.” 

JJ’s eyebrows raise so high they might have hit her hairline. “Well you’re getting right into aren’t you?”

“I’m nothing if not forward, you should know.” She smirks. “If you don’t feel comfortable with talking about it, you don’t have to, though. I just wanna get to really know you.” The wink kills JJ. 

“Ex-husband doesn’t matter. He’s in my past. What I’m really interested in is my future.” JJ really hopes she’s flirting. Like she said, she hasn’t flirted in so long so she’s kind of hopeless. 

Emily grins. “Well, let’s go show Morgan how it’s done, yeah?” She holds out her hand and JJ grabs it, lets Emily drag her to the dance floor and oh my god, she looks so good. 

She’s having more fun than she’s had in years, dancing against her coworker like she’s a pole and her body feels light and she missed getting drunk with friends. It’s been a while since she had fun while drinking alcohol. 

The only thing that would make things better if Emily would kiss her. 

Little did she know, Emily was thinking the same exact thing. 

Neither wants to complicate it though. 

Until JJ can’t take it. She takes Emily’s hand, drags her outside the bar, and kisses her with force. 

She thanks every lucky star of hers that Emily kisses right back. Everything feels heightened and yeah…

JJ is fucked.

[cupidmarwani-archive]

Conspiracy (2/?)

When Carlos arrives at the 126, he finds the sole survivor of the old firehouse, Judd Ryder, polishing the bright red paint of their truck. Each little circle of the waxing cloth is almost angry in its precision, Judd’s knuckles white with the force of it. It’s like he knows what Carlos is here for, even before he asks him to gather the crew together. He names them off, one by one: Strickland, Chavez, Marwani, Blake, Gillian and Rosewater. Three more firefighters, and three paramedics. None of them seem worried or concerned about Carlos’ presence, or the absence of their captain and his son. Just like with TK, there’s something not quite right here.

“I’m sorry to inform you all, but Captain Strand was found dead in his home this morning.”

Chavez whistles lowly, looking away. He seems to be the only one at all affected by the news, his eyes going glassy as he crosses his arms. Everyone else keeps staring at him, as though they don’t consider it to be news. Well, Carlos did think that TK couldn’t have killed him alone. And he knows that firefighter crews get tight-knit. They’re closer than family, some of them. 

“It was a homicide. After the autopsy, he’ll be released for a burial, or- or whatever service he would have wanted. That would fall to his son, TK, but I imagine he’ll need your support with all that. We’ve just started our investigation, but we will find your captain’s killer, and bring them to justice. Once again, I’m sorry for your loss.”

For a moment, they’re all quiet, but there’s nothing to indicate any sort of grief on their faces, just like with TK. Chavez seems to be the only one affected by the news. A single tear rolls down his cheek. Marwani hugs him in against her side, but otherwise, there is nothing. It’s Judd who breaks the silence. 

“I’m glad the bastard is dead,” he says, and walks away.

At that, Carlos is left to question the team. 

He asks them to take a seat, and pulls out his notebook again to ask them about TK, as a start. “He said that he’s staying with someone named Marjan right now?”

“That would be me.” Marwani- or rather, Marjan- says, lifting her hand slightly. “Captain Strand was a lot, so TK and I have been living together for the past few weeks. He couldn’t take it anymore.”

“And what was it he couldn’t take?”

Marjan looks at Chavez and doesn’t respond. After a moment, she guides him away to cry in peace, away from the questioning. That just leaves Strickland and the paramedics, stoic and unaffected, silent and maybe even smug. None of them seem sad to have lost Captain Strand either, or have any interest in the news that he was murdered. Everything about this investigation is just wrong. Captain Strand was well loved by the community. The people in the neighborhood were happy to see someone reclaim the dreary memorial of a firehouse, and they’ve always been glad to interact with him. From what Carlos heard, he’s popped up on a fair number of local news stories. The whole 126 has. They’re brave and maybe a little reckless, protective of each other, and dedicated to their jobs. And yet, this crew that are so close, don’t seem at all bothered by this. Add that to the implications that Captain Strand wasn’t as good a person as he seems, Carlos has found himself a handful of suspects with clear motives. The only difference between this firehouse and TK Strand is that TK had a key to that house.

“I know this is hard, but it would really help the investigation if one of you could explain to me what it was about your captain that was so bad.”

Gillian looks to Blake, as though for permission. When the woman nods, Gillian begins to speak. “Captain Strand had a really weird thing about TK. He was controlling, to say the least. They lived together and worked together, and Cap would dictate everything TK did. What he could eat, where he could go, who he could talk to. When he first rebuilt this house, he would barely let TK talk to the other firefighters.”

“He took an interest in Mateo, too,” Strickland adds. “Chavez, the one who was crying? Not as intense as with TK, but he was… interested in him.”

“By interested, you mean…?”

“It’s hard to explain, but something wasn’t right,” Blake fills in.

Carlos rubs his face. This is a rough one for too many reasons to count. “Did TK ever tell you that his father had abused him?”

“He didn’t have to. But if he talked to anyone about it, it would have been Mateo or Judd. Mateo knew what Owen was really like, and Judd and TK are like brothers.”

“I’ll have to talk to them both. And Marjan, to make sure TK was with her last night,” Carlos says.

And just like that, Blake is smiling at him. It’s the sort of smile that says he’s stupid, the sort that makes him feel like a scolded child all over again despite the fact that she just told him his prime suspect was likely abused by the victim. While Carlos has looked countless killers in the eyes with this same expression, there’s something more unnerving about how calm she seems. They’re all too at ease. Even if they didn’t like Captain Strand, even if they hated him, they still worked with him every single day. 

“Honestly,” Blake says, “there’s no point in looking into this. The world is a lot better off without that son of a bitch in it.”

When Carlos leaves them behind to look for Marjan and Mateo, he gets this sense that any help TK may have had came from this firehouse. They all hated the victim just as much. Still, he heads over to speak to those two, finding them in the kitchen area with mugs of tea while Mateo blows his nose into a tissue. Poor kid, he didn’t deserve to be involved in this. He seems like the only reasonable one around here, and that unfortunately may be because Captain Strand hurt him too. 

“Could we have a moment?” Carlos asks Marjan.

“Mateo, do you want me to leave or stay?”

Immediately Mateo takes her outstretched hand. “Stay.”

Marjan meets Carlos’ eyes almost with a challenge, pulling up a seat beside Mateo and staying close protectively. It would be sweet in any normal situation, but that’s nowhere near what this mess is. None of them are innocent, except for possibly Mateo. The man is so young, still basically fresh from the academy.

“So, Mateo, I wanted to ask you a couple questions. Your um, your coworkers told me that you and Captain Strand were close?”

He nods. Marjan sends Carlos a warning look. 

“Can you tell me a little more about that? How close were you?”

“Cap, um, he helped me get a job. Hired me, and fought for me to be able to have my exam read to me at the academy. I’m dyslexic. He’s the one who figured that out, actually. Cap was the first person to tell me I was smart.” For a moment, it’s too much. Mateo sobs and wipes his eyes, clings to Marjan when she pulls him close against her chest in a motherly fashion. “He was like a dad to me. I- he treated me just like TK, and- and he believed in me.”

“When you say just like TK…”

“Only the good parts,” Mateo corrects quickly. “He wasn’t mean to me.”

Carlos has to tread lightly. “He was mean to TK, though?”

“Sometimes. When TK pissed him off. But Cap never got mad at me. He cared about me a lot, and he made sure that I always felt good.”

His throat feels tight. 

“And how did he do that, Mateo?”

“I- I don’t wanna talk about it!”

Mateo stands up and leaves. But Marjan doesn’t follow him, just watches him leave and begins to tidy up the kitchen. She must know that Carlos has questions for her too, as she hums to herself and waits for him to ask them.

“TK was staying with you, you said. Last night, was he home the whole night?”

“Never left his room,” Marjan confirms. “He doesn’t leave the house on his own. Captain Strand spent his whole life conditioning that into him. This isn’t worth investigating, Detective. It’s best for everyone if you just let it go.”

@smileofthesun27 @skylark50 @heartofmarjan @chiefsheepbird @ebug2002 @proceduralpassion @cauldronbornkid

[delightfulstarlightparadise]

Imagine Katsuki Bakugo/Reader part 5

Previous part here:

Once again I remind you that English is not my main language. I am doing my best.

Also, there is a while since I last watched or read BNHA and some stuff might be outside of the anime's context.

You and Bakugo are now dating, you've had a very intense next day to your first kiss, training against each other. Aizawa saw you fight against him and for a slight moment he shows he is proud of you.

While studying with Bakugo, he explains to you that he thinks you are one of the most promissing heros he'd imagine, if only you were not so worried about your scars. You tell him about your insecurities with them, Bakugo says he likes them nontheless. You have your first night together.

When you open the door of your room, ready in uniform, the unexpected presence of Bakugo makes you let go a shriek. You blush at the sight of his red eyes.

"Hi." You say in a whisper.

"Let's go?" he says, kissing you in the cheek.

He had gone there to take you to class with him. You can barely get yourself to look at him straight, once it makes you remember his every touch on your skin the night before.

People seem surprized to see you arriving together, there are whispers full of questions coming around. Kirishima is clearly giving you thumbs up and Mina giggling along with Sero and Denki.

Aizawa takes one look at you and another at Bakugo to realize what is happening. It seems you will have some explanation to do.

When the class is over, your Uncle asks you to stay.

"So, are you going to tell me what is happening?"he asks.

"Bakugo and I we... we... it... it happened you know. I... I don't know what to say uncle. I am very sorry." you stutter.

Aizawa stares at you with a serious expression. You shrink as it seems you are going to get lectured again.

"Just don't let your grades fall." he says and grabs his sleeping bag. "And don't go soft on him in those trainings. He will kill you."

The moment he stands up you give him a hug. He freezes but then, taps you gently on the back.

The days go by as they were used to going, Mina coming to you to gossip, Sero and Denki taking to with them to do whatever dumb things they usually do, Kirishima taking you to their gaming sessions.

But every morning Bakugo comes to take you to classes and, during the time you are alone together he holds you close to him, gently, and sometimes kisses you when you are not expecting.

You have things in common that you didn't know before. You like some bands in common, and you think it is pretty cute how Bakugo still collects CDs and how excited he is when he shows them to you. Actually, you love his face when he is excitedly talking about anything, he looks like a little maniac, with that obsessed smile, but it is still cute.

How he is going to be the gratest hero of this time. How much he loved that new song the band launched. When he shows you tricks with his drumsticks. When he talks about strategy classes or the new workout he and Kirishima had come up with. When he teaches you how to play his favorite videogames. When he puts music for you to listen with him on the earphones.

There are so many things Bakugo likes talking about.

He also likes listening to you about the things you like. He always looks at you and asks more about them. (Which things are these? Take some time to picture it)

Every Saturday you go to the movies together and on Sundays, you train.

Bakugo wins most of the matches you have, but you do defeat him a couple of times. He always gets really mad at these, but he also congratulates you after giving you a cold shoulder for a couple of days (he never stops coming pick you up for class though).

Things continue like this perfectly until the finals get closer and you have to focus more and more in training and studying. You do it together, but don't get much time to spend on simple things that you enjoy doing. But you need to keep your promise to Aizawa.

"DAMN IT THIS FUCKING STRATEGY EXERCISE!" You scream, throwing your book to the other side of the room.

Bakugo stops what he is doing and smirks. He loves it when you get furious like this. He says it makes you pretty.

"What is up?" He asks taking his earphones off.

"This stupid exercise. I DON'T KNOW. I don't know how to solve this fucking situation." you say rubbing your eyes in stress.

Bakugo stands up and grabs your book to take a look at the exercise you were talking about. He, then, sits next to you and proceeds to explain.

"Elemental quirks have limits. It is easier to make the person overuse them and lose control or not being able to use it anymore, than it is to fight them straight up. I don't know what is your difficultty in this. This is actually what you do to me when you..." Bakugo swallows his breath and let go a grwol. "Win."

"Hmm, I see now." You say, letting go a sigh because now it seemed pretty obvious.

"You are just tired." he says, lifting you up in his arms. "Why don't we lay down a while? To rest."

He knells on the bed, while smiling at you.

"Yeah... to rest." you answer with a small giggle.

...

"I CAN'T BELIEVE WE ARE FREE!!" Kirishima screams excitedly, untying his tie and throwing it up.

"Say it for yourself. We didn't pass... again." says Denki leaning on Mina and letting go a sigh.

"Agaaain" she cries, putting her head down.

"Bakugo got the second best grade in the class!" says Sero, putting his hand in Bakugo's shoulder.

Bakugo seems to be exploding in rage while looking at the final results.

"Who got first place this time?! Midoriya or Todoroki?" asks Kirishima rushing to see the sheets.

"None of us." says Todoroki coming from behind you. "Y/n did. Congrats." He says, turning to you.

Midoriya comes to you, his eyes shining, but you are not certain if he is about to cry or if he is really happy about something.

"Congratulations." he is sobbing, he is probably going to cry. "Co-could you tell me what was the answer for question 2.4?"

"IT WAS C!" screams Bakugo, pulling you away from him.

"Actually... it was E." you say kind of embarassed.

You are pretty sure you've just seen Bakugo's soul coming out of his angry mouth, and also Midoriya's from his bubbly eyes. Actually, Todoroki also seemed to be pondering in disbelief.

"It... it was a tricky question." you say, trying to make Bakugo let go of your arm, but he is holding you really tight.

"Hey, I got this one right too!" you hear Kirishima yell, followed by an explosion, which was Bakugo furious about it.

He stomps away burning with rage.

"Hey, y/n." Midoriya calls you before you have the chance to go after him.

"Yeah?" you ask.

"So, we are thinking of celebrating the end of the semester in the city, eating some ramen, would you guys like to come too?" he asks.

"Us?" you stutter.

"Yeah, you and Kaachan. You are dating right?"

Your face turns red and you feel the impulse of running away. You really thought you and Bakugo had been doing a nice job in hiding it from everyone elese, but it seems you were really wrong.

"Of course they are coming too!" Kirishima says. "Bakugo loves spicy ramen, he wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Nice!" Midoriya says with a big smile.

"Bakugo and y/n are dating?" You hear Todoroki ask Midoriya as they leave.

"I was not sure until now." he answers with a giggle.

Damn him! He tricked you right.

...

Bakugo seems to still be giving you that silly "cold shoulder" he does when you beat him in anything.

You, him, Sero and Kirishima are walking around the buildings trying to find the restaurant Midoriya had told you about, but he doesn't seem to be actually good with directions.

"Dumb hair! Where the fuck are we?!" Bakugo asks infuriated.

"I think... i guess... in that direction... well..."you pity him trying to understand the map in his phone.

"We came from there!!" Bakugo screams and lots of people look at you.

You don't really enjoy having people looking at you when you are not wearing your special suit. You tend to always wear it, but Bakugo convinced you to wear some fresh clothes once the heat of the summer was really high.

When he sees you lifting your collar and crossing your arms to avoid the scars, he silently puts his arm over your shoulder. You smile as this makes you feel protected.

All of a sudden you hear the sound of glass crashing and ambulances coming rushing in the streets. People are screaming and running in every direction, and this gets you and Bakugo separated from the others. You are pushed by the crowd to a blocking.

There is a huge skyscraper burning in flames on the other side. The police holds people behind while the firefighters try to put it out but unssucessfully. Heroes are coming in and out of the building carring people, but you can see so many of them by the windows screaming for help.

"There are not enough heroes!" you hear someone scream.

"Look! There is Endeavor!"someone yells.

You see that giant man coming out of the building carring four people on his shoulders, and taking them to the paramedics. They cry and thank him but he doesn't stay to listen, he runs back to the building.

You see heroes coming out from windows and doors with rescuees. Mt Lady is using her hands to pick up people who are in higher floors, but the building is bigger than her.

"You have to tell her to step back! Her wheigh can cause the buiding to crash!" you hear a firefighter telling another hero.

Someone flies to her and she shrinks and starts crying.

"This is a mess." you hear Bakugo say. "Wait is that..."

You turn to the site he is looking. Yeah. Those are who Bakugo thinks: Midoriya, Todoroki, Uraraka, Tsuyu and Iida are there helping take people out of the building.

"Fucking Deku!" he screams, transpassing the police blocking with a jump.

"Damn it, Katsuki!" you say, following behind.

Bakugo doesn't listen to anyone screaming for him to stop, he just runs right into the bulding.

"What the fuck?! How come do you guys are always in trouble like this?" You ask Todoroki, having heared about all the things that had happened to class 1-A before you arrived.

"Welcome to the team?" Uraraka says with an erratic smile.

"We should not be doing this, we should not be doing this, we should not be doing this." You hear Iida saying while fastly coming in and out the building with people on his arms.

"We were passing by. They need all the help they can get. My f... my f... Endeavor, asked us to help. There are other civillians helping too, some guys from other classes, people with helpful quirks the other heroes know, we won't get in trouble this time." Todoroki explains to you. "You need to help, your quirk can take you places other people are not being cabable to reach."

You stare at him and sigh.

Fuck. Aizawa is going to kill you.

Last part here:

[lovemesomerafael]

EL AMOR TODO LO PUEDE Chapter 11:  Worse Comes to Worst

Photo Source

Link to list of Previous Chapters

TRIGGER WARNING:  Graphic mentions of violence.  (Please trust it’s not gratuitous - this experience is integral to who she becomes.)

*********************

Laura had no business in any other bar, but she was safe at Molly’s.  It was the last bar on the planet that would ever serve her alcohol, even if she asked for it.  Everyone knew which of their colleagues were in recovery, and no one would have let them drink. Laura was no exception.

There was nothing like walking into Molly’s as a full-fledged CPD officer.  Sure, six months after graduating the Academy, Laura was the rawest of rookies, still working a beat with an experienced officer to train her.  But she was a cop.  One of them.  She was so proud of that, she would sometimes wear her uniform into Molly’s even though she really had time to change.  Tonight, however, she was wearing simple jeans and a round-necked pullover.

Otis liked to tease her when he saw her in uniform, which was another reason she sometimes wore it to Molly’s.  She would definitely have been interested in Otis if she weren’t dating Mouse and he weren’t dating Lily.  As things were, they just enjoyed a harmless flirtation.

“Hey, Officer,” Otis called to her from behind the bar, shouting to be heard over the clamor of the crowd.  “The usual?”

“Let’s switch it up.  I’ll have a seltzer.”

“You’re not driving, are ya’?”  Otis pulled a glass from a shelf and scooped ice into it.

“No worries, I’m walking.  Hey, can I get you to autograph my ‘firefighter of the month’ calendar?  You’re September, right?”

He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.  “And March.  And for you, I’ll sign ‘em both.”

As he handed her drink over the bar, he said, “You’re walking?  That’s a little dangerous, isn’t it?  With that maniac out there?”

“I learned moves in the Academy that would give him nightmares.  I got it covered.”  She winked.

The bar was crowded, mostly with first responders, as she made her way to the table where the man of the hour was sitting.   Laura just had time for one drink before she had to head home for Mouse’s big dinner surprise.  He had been talking it up for days and she was looking forward to whatever he had planned, but she’d had to stop by Molly’s because one of the guys from District 21 was celebrating twenty years on the force.  

She congratulated him and spent the next half hour enjoying the camaraderie of the place.  Although there was the usual amount of laughing and gossip, tonight most conversations tended to end up on the subject of the serial rapist and murderer currently terrorizing the city.  The bastard raped his victims both before and after he killed them.  Everyone wanted the guy taken down, and everyone was frustrated at the lack of leads the CPD had.  Women all over the city were buying pepper spray and rape whistles.  

Despite some good-natured grumbling about her leaving early, and teasing about being obedient to Mouse, Laura said goodbye to the assembled cops and turned for the door.   Olinsky, sitting at one of the tables between her and the door, put a hand out and caught Laura’s arm as she passed.

“Hey, you goin’ home?”

“Yeah, remember?  Tonight’s Mouse’s big gourmet extravaganza.”

“You walking?”

“Yeah.”

“Who’s going with you?”

“I’ll be fine, Al.”

Olinsky stood.  “No, no, I’m coming with you.”

“C’mon, Olinsky.  You’re three sheets to the wind.  If he tries anything, the only way you’re gonna be helpful is if I throw you at him.  Stay here. It’s all good.”

“Look, you got two choices,” he said, getting in her face as though he were her father.  “You either let me walk you home, or you promise to text me when you get there.”  

“Fair enough.  It’s only a few blocks.  I’ll be home in less than half an hour and I will text you,” she said, with mock seriousness.  She hugged him briefly before she headed out into the night.

********

As she walked down the darkened street, Laura called Mouse.  

“Hey, babe, I’m on my way home.”  

“Great!  I’ll see you in a few.  I’m at a very delicate stage of the process right now, so I gotta hang up.  Gotta get my Julia Child on.”  

They both laughed as they said goodbye.

She was still smiling as she dropped her phone back into her purse.  As she did, a huge hand grabbed her arm, swinging her around.  As her momentum was still carrying her toward the man behind her, she saw his fist coming at her.  Her body swung into the punch, with all its weight behind it, at the same time the massive fist crashed explosively into her face.  

The world went a very dark, murky shade of red.

********

Al Olinsky was taciturn by nature, preferring to watch and listen rather than call attention to himself.  Although by now he was fairly drunk, his watchful nature kept him dimly aware of the time.  He’d gotten into a long litany of “remember when’s” with a guy he’d been undercover with years before, and he knew Laura should’ve texted by now.  When he looked at his phone, he saw that it had been an hour since she’d left Molly’s.

Damn that kid.  She knew how dangerous the guy out there was.  He never should have let her walk home alone.  He could easily have strong-armed some other uniform to go with her. At the very least, she should have had the sense to remember to call him.  These selfish, stupid, horny kids they were graduating from the Academy now! They didn’t care about anything but the glory of a high-profile bust and getting into each other’s pants.  They had no idea what it was really like out there. They all had to find out the hard way. Well, he supposed he had been no different, but he was still going to give Parker an ass chewing she wouldn’t forget.

He punched in her cell number.  No answer.  He called Mouse’s cell.  If Mouse didn’t answer, Olinsky would have to stop by Parker’s apartment and make sure she was safe.  If he had to do that, he was going to be pissed.

Mouse answered.  “Hey, Detective Olinsky, what’s up?”

“Is your girlfriend home yet?”

“No, and if she doesn’t get here soon, I’m gonna be – Huh.”

“What?”  Olinsky grunted.

“I just looked at the clock.  I’ve been cooking and I didn’t realize how long it’s been since she called.  She should’ve been here a while ago.”  

Suddenly, Olinsky was stone sober.  “Yeah.  Listen, I’m gonna just take a few of the guys and walk her path.  When I find her, you’re gonna hear me light her up from where you are.”

“She’s not walking by herself, is she?”

“Yeah.  She was supposed to text me when she got home.”

Olinsky held his cell out from his ear as Mouse let loose a shouted curse.  

“Stay put.  I’ll find her and bring her home.”

*******

By the time Olinsky, Voight, and Dawson had walked to Parker’s apartment and checked in with Mouse, they were all alarmed.  Voight called the rest of the team at Molly’s and told them to put down their drinks and start toward Parker’s, beating the bushes and checking everywhere on the way.  He would be moving in the opposite direction, doing the same thing.

It was Atwater who found Laura’s purse, tossed under a parked car.  Everything, including cash and her cell phone, was still in it.  Something very bad had happened to her.  They hoped it wasn’t as bad as what they were all thinking, but not saying.

*********

Laura dug the elbow of her left arm in the dirt, pulling herself a few inches forward with it while pushing with her right leg. She hurt everywhere, but her dislocated right shoulder seemed to be the worst.  She could do nothing but drag her useless right arm behind her across the dirt floor of whatever this place was.  Some kind of cellar or underground storage room or something.  She hadn’t seen it from the outside, because she had been all but unconscious as the killer carried her over his shoulder from the sidewalk where he’d attacked her.  She’d regained a foggy consciousness when he’d dumped her on the floor, not even bothering to bend over, so that she fell the full distance from his shoulder.  

She wasn’t going to think about the rest.  All she focused on was getting out.  The killer was behind her, also on the floor.  He wouldn’t be stopping her.  She wasn’t going to think about that, either.

It was so far to the stairs, though.  Her broken left leg was no use, and her broken fingers meant her left hand was useless, too.  All she could do was pull herself along with her left elbow.  But it was so slow, and it hurt so much to move, and she had so far to go…  She laid her head down on the cool dirt for a moment.  No good.  Something broken inside hurt whether she was moving or not, and her shoulder was killing her in any position.  

She lifted her elbow and dug in again.  That fucker was not going to win.  She was not going to let him kill her.  He was the only one who was dying tonight.  

“I will not die here,” she grunted through what was left of her teeth.  Her jaw wasn’t moving right, either.  “I will not die here…”  

She elbowed another few inches, her head collapsing to the dirt once again from pain and exhaustion.  She began to cry again.  

“I’m sorry, Mouse…  I’m so sorry…  I tried to get there…  I’m so sorry…”  Blood, saliva, and tears mixed with the dirt as she wept.

She allowed herself only a few minutes to rest and vent her misery before she slowly, painfully raised her head again.  It was getting hard to see as her eyes swelled. She cried out weakly as she lifted up onto her elbow once again, bent her right leg, and pushed herself another few inches toward the stairs.  She couldn’t imagine how she was going to get up those.  

Another thing she wasn’t going to think about.

“I will not die here…” she shrieked through broken teeth, sobbing.

******

Otis took Voight’s call to the bar phone.  When he let everyone know that Laura was missing and Voight was asking for help to look for her, Molly’s emptied.  Every cop, firefighter, paramedic, doctor, and nurse in the place joined the search.  

Her purse had been found three blocks away.  Worse, several teeth and a lot of blood had been found on the sidewalk nearby.  They could only assume they were hers.  The CPD knew this killer murdered the women close to where he attacked them, and left the bodies where he killed them.  That meant Laura was nearby.  But where?

They knocked on every door, went into every building, shined flashlights into every car and under every tree and bush.  Aside from her purse and bloody teeth, she had vanished.

Voight was angrier than any of them had ever seen him. What happened to Nadia Decotis had been brutal on the whole squad.  He couldn’t endure that again.  And this would be worse.  He wanted to tear every building down brick by brick until they found her.  He thought every moment about what was happening to her, and relentless questioning and searching were the only outlets he had for the overwhelming rage he felt.

He pulled on a metal door on the side of an apartment building.  It was locked, so he moved on.  But something made him turn back around.  He realized he’d been assuming that if a door was locked to him, it was locked to the killer, as well.  What if that wasn’t right?  What if the killer had a key to one of the blind, locked doors they’d bypassed?  He got on his radio and instructed everyone to rouse whoever they had to, to look behind every door in every building along the path between Molly’s and Laura’s apartment.  It would take forever, and he knew some people were likely to object to allowing them to search locked areas.  Voight knew he needed a search warrant, but he wasn’t in any mood to wait for one, or to take no for an answer.

*****

It had now been four hours since Laura had disappeared. With a roiling, sickening pain in his gut, Halstead called Mouse again.  

“Did you find her?”  Mouse’s distraught voice answered.

“Not yet.  I’m just checking in with you.”

“If she’d called or come home, I’d have called you,” Mouse snapped.

“All right, buddy.  I know.  How you holding up?”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Right.  Listen, we’re going to find her.  And she’s going to be OK.  You just stay there and wait for good news.  All right?  Can you do that?”

“Yeah.  Yeah. I’m OK.  I’m holding it together.  But it’s killing me sitting on my ass in here.”

********

Laura lay at the base of the stairs.  Her right eye had swollen shut, and she could barely see her right hand through the slit left open in her left.  It hurt to try to focus her eyes.  Her head was pounding and she could hear a shrieking in her ears that she knew wasn’t coming from outside.  She’d thought she was past fear, but there was something very wrong with her head and she knew from the dizziness and fuzziness of her thoughts how serious it probably was.  But she was having trouble looking away from her right hand, covered in a layer of blood and dirt.  She’d done… something with that hand.  She couldn’t remember what, but it was bad.  Very, very bad.  The interesting angle of her middle finger told her it was probably broken, but it hurt so much she thought it more likely it was dislocated.  That seemed an odd thought to have, but she just couldn’t focus her mind.  

She finally turned her head and tried very hard to see the top of the stairs.  She’d made it that far.  Now she needed to find a way to haul her broken body up.  Just one stair.  That was all she’d worry about for now.  She placed her left elbow on the first stair, and braced her right foot.  She tried to take a deep breath in preparation, but it hurt so much she cried out.  Anyway, for some time, she hadn’t been able to breathe right, and it was getting worse. With a colossal effort, she bore down and tried to raise herself one stair.  She fell back, exhausted.  She was simply too spent and too weak to lift herself up.

Her head sunk to the stair.  She wailed to herself, giving in to total defeat and despair. She thought about her parents. They were going to be so very disappointed in her for being so unforgivably cocky that it got her killed. She hoped they’d clean her up before her parents had to identify her body.  

“I’m sorry…  I’m so sorry…”  Her wails were shaky and insubstantial.  She didn’t have the strength to cry.

At that moment, through the fog of confusion that was beginning to be too thick to penetrate, her thoughts focused on Mouse. Mouse who had been through hell and was just coming out the other side.  Mouse, with his beautiful eyes and the adorable way he sometimes talked out of the side of his mouth.  What would happen to him if she died here, bloody and broken, because she was too fucking stupid to let someone walk her home?  No.  That was unacceptable.  She was not going to be the one to destroy all that Mouse had rebuilt.  

She glanced in the direction of the killer.  “Fuck you!  I’m stupid, but you’re fucking dead!” She screamed feebly through a wet, bloody sob.  “I will not die here!  You can’t make me die!”  

She lifted her head, put her elbow on the step, and pushed with every remaining ounce of strength she had, howling with effort. She found her left flank was now balanced precariously on the step.  With that, a small burst of hope fueled a new dig with her elbow and foot, to put her close enough to the bottom stair to try to reach the second with her elbow.  She made the mistake of looking up.  There were ten stairs.  She saw a brief swirl of sparkling stars and passed out.  

******

Mouse couldn’t take one more second in the apartment, useless and crazed with fear.  He’d been trapped there for six hours now, sick with terror and fury. He’d paced until Otis had finally lost his patience and yelled at him to stop.  That had precipitated a brief shouting match that, although it relieved a miniscule fraction of the tension, accomplished nothing.  

Finally, Mouse grabbed his jacket.  He didn’t answer when Otis called after him, just took the stairs as fast as his legs would carry him, slammed open the door at the bottom, and ran out into the night in search of Voight.  He was going to help in the search, with Voight’s blessing or without it.

*****

When she regained consciousness – what passed for consciousness in her current state – Laura had only one thought.  The stairs.  Must get up the stairs.  Ignoring the raging torment that seemed to inhabit every cell of her body, she planted her elbow and foot and yelled as loud as she could as she pushed her torso up to the edge of the second stair.  

“I -will -not -die -here,” she slowly grunted, as she shoved herself further on to the second stair.  She had to rest, gasping for breath through her aching, constricted chest.

Five minutes later, she again moved her elbow to the stair above her and, with tremendous effort, pulled and pushed herself until her chest was halfway between the second and third stair.  It was agony resting her weight on her chest against the edge of the hard wooden stair, but worse was the pain in her left leg.  She could rest her weight on her hip, but she could see her broken thigh bone bulging out the blood-stained leg of her jeans and had to try to twist to avoid it coming in contact with anything.   In a crabbed, twisted position, she used the pain to spur her to push on to the fourth stair.  

At that point, her right foot touched the dirt below the first stair, and she discovered that she could pull with her elbow and push with her foot more easily on the stairs than she’d been able to on the floor.  She dragged her useless right arm and left leg up the next few stairs, shrieking with each attempt to raise herself another step.  She was halfway there.  

She tried to rest.  She couldn’t let her left thigh touch the stairs, and her chest and abdomen were killing her with her weight on them.  The only good news was that her right arm was beginning to go numb.  In the back of her mind, she had a niggling sense that that was not a good thing, but she couldn’t follow the thought.  All she knew was that she had to get up the stairs or she would die.  She couldn’t remember why, but she knew it was true.  If she could just get up the stairs to the door, the pain would stop. She really wanted that.  She was so terribly tired, and hated all this pain so much.  Climb the stairs.  Just get to the top.  That was all she had to do.

She lifted her elbow once again, no longer able to see through the swelling around her eyes.  Blindly, painfully, excruciatingly slowly, she pulled herself up another three stairs over the next hour.  She had passed out twice, although she wasn’t aware of it.  She wasn’t aware of anything.  All she knew was pain and a desperate need to get to the top of the stairs.

********

Al Olinsky was appalled that he had let Laura walk home alone.  He would never forgive himself for that, even if they found her safe and well.  If they didn’t, he didn’t know what could keep him from going off the deep end.  

He threw the building super to the ground at the foot of the rusty steel door that had, at one time, been painted orange.  The guy had made the mistake of taking just a little too long to pick up his keys and run to open all the doors in his building. This was the last.

Trembling and mewling with fear of this obviously unhinged cop, he fumbled the key into the lock and turned it.  Al shoved him roughly aside, knocking him to the ground once again, and tore the door open, shining his flashlight into the darkness. The storage room held lawn equipment, bulk cleaning supplies, and other maintenance items.  No Parker.  Al swore viciously.  

*******

The door felt cool on the back of Laura’s left hand. She pushed at it, but it didn’t move. She wheezed out a groan of frustrated anger with the remaining breath she could move through her tight chest. A knob.  A push bar.  The door had something she had to deal with to make it open.  But she was so tired.  She hurt so much.  And it was so hard to breathe.  She wouldn’t be able to do it much longer.  Maybe this was good enough.  Maybe she could just put her cheek against the nice, cool metal of the door.  

She tried to move forward enough to touch the door with her cheek.  But there wasn’t any way to rest on the stairs.  Everything was broken.  Everything hurt.  She really had to get the door open.  It would be cool outside, and she could maybe breathe easier.  Beyond rational thought, with the singular instinct to open the damn door she’d been trying so hard for so long to reach, Laura pushed up with her elbow and leaned against the door with her cheek.  Even that hurt.  Was her face broken, too?  Could faces break?  She didn’t care.  Air was just on the other side of the doorway, and she needed air so bad.  Why couldn’t she breathe?  

With a superhuman struggle, Laura planted her right foot on the highest stair she could reach, and began to push herself up the door, sliding her cheek against it.  Her left leg screamed as its weight began to hang, and even her numb right arm came to enough life to ache.  But she still pushed.  She had to get air.  She had to. And, there was something… she wasn’t supposed to die here.  Something about somebody who pissed her off, and she had to get out to… do something. It was important not to die here, for some reason.  

At last, she was crouching, leaning with all her weight against the door.  She fumbled out with her left arm, trying to find… something.  She screamed as her broken fingers came into contact with a hard metal object sticking out from the door.  She slapped at it, mumbling curse words because she couldn’t take in enough breath to shout them.  She moved her arm, sliding her cheek just a bit more up the door.  She lifted her arm as far as she could and let it fall down onto the handle, which depressed under the weight of her arm.  

The door opened, and she fell forward, halfway in and halfway out.  She was unconscious before she hit the ground.

*********  

It was Stella Kidd who found her.  As Stella came around the corner of a building half a block from where Laura’s purse had been found, urging a large, sleepy woman in a bathrobe and slippers to hurry up with the keys, she saw light spilling from a door she knew hadn’t been open when she’d checked it before.  A body lay halfway through the doorway, propping the door open.  She had her cell phone out before she reached the body, but for a few seconds, she could only stare in horror.  Finally, she tore her eyes from Laura’s limp, bloody form and pushed the button to call Voight.

[sosthemortalcoil]

my friend and i were talking and although im sure it wouldn't be possible to be implemented, it would've been really neat to get the option for gab to become a paramedic or a fightfighter based on their skillset. im sure a backstory probably wouldn't have been as easy for those two, though... thanks for the game, by the way!

I’m flattered you and your friend were talking about this game!

As for a different backstory, it would be a completely different game then. The backstory isn’t just backstory. It’s gameplay. It’s a series of investigations with supernatural elements as you start to realize your place within the city and make alliances. And as mentioned, it wouldn’t fit as well as not every Gabriel is a healer. Being a firefighter would be an interesting alternative, but again, it would be a very different game and set of people there.

I also think that the single-parent angle, which is difficult enough placing Gabriel as a detective who does get called out at odd times and doesn’t work a normal schedule all the time, would be even more difficult to manage as either of those professions.

Not to mention, Sabriel doesn’t allow any of her guardians to work in those roles. Law enforcement is as close as she likes to cut it. Putting an angel as any sort of paramedic, doctor, or even a firefighter is too much of a temptation to use their powers, which would risk their cover, their mission, and effect the way events should play out. A paramedic also requires more training in areas that angels aren’t familiar with, as human medicine is very different from angelic.

The cop background, and specifically Major Crimes, means that the majority of the time the angel will be working to catch ‘villains.’ They also have access to information which could be very useful in the course of a standard Guardian assignment. It’s a lot higher profile than she typically likes to give her guardians, but she has contacts that make it a viable option.

It also allows angels to kill. While the other jobs could put an angel in a position to ensure accidents happen, this gives whatever angel is in that role a semi-reasonable excuse if they need to eliminate a target in order to protect their charge. Very much illegal, but angels don’t really care about human laws.

I know playing a cop can be uncomfortable for some people, but this is a work of fiction and the JCPD is a form of idealized police force, though they’re still imperfect and they still have issues. Consider it more of an investigator who can still be the ass-kicking angel without blowing their cover, if you will.

Being a cop pretty much becomes a moot point in the second book, as your cover has been blown, and there are much bigger things to deal with.

But if you like, feel free to have an AU where your MC is a paramedic or a firefighter or any other profession you feel like!

Hope you continue to enjoy the game!

[tfcrp]

THIS IS YOUR GAME

Name: Finn Cross Age: Nineteen Class Year: Freshman Position: Vixen Hometown: Kingsport, Tennessee

THIS IS YOUR MOMENT

TW: graphic injury, neglect/abuse, starvation mention, death mention, ableism

The dreams he spent years achieving weren’t his. Finn was never meant to experience cheer routines and competitions. Never meant to feel the weight of a trophy in his hands or see his name in the local papers. He couldn’t remember the last time he did anything that wasn’t related to cheerleading in some shape or form. He wasn’t living. He was lived vicariously through. And while he didn’t exactly agree with the terms, it was a small price to pay for the damage he caused.

Growing up, Finn believed his older sister Gwen was a superhero. She seemed to exist solely in her cheerleading uniform, performing daredevil feats as she charmed audiences with her smile. Their parents favored her talent and made a point to drag eight-year-old Finn to each of her middle school halftime shows. He watched in awe as Gwen earned one cheer award after the other; it didn’t take long for him to memorize their placements in the household trophy case. Gwen also found time to entertain Finn’s adventurous ideas: whatever her brother wanted to do—play in a pillow fort or dress up as a dinosaur—she scoured the house for supplies, waiting patiently for Finn to put them all together before joining him in the land of make-believe. Gwen’s greatest superpower, however, was her mind. She was brilliant, a straight-A student who always pushed herself to the brink for every bit of knowledge she could get her hands on.  

While most twelve-year-olds looked forward to high school, Gwen was already focused on college. She had her heart set on Palmetto State University. Not Rhodes. Not Harvard. But Palmetto State, where cheerleaders were ridiculed for supporting the infamous Foxes, where the orange was loud enough to be heard across the country. Finn never understood the appeal. His sister deserved the best, which the ragtag Foxes certainly weren’t, but he kept that to himself. There was no point in crushing her dreams when she did everything in her power to help him live his. Instead, he helped Gwen collect newspaper articles, magazine clippings, anything involving the South Carolinian university; helped her put up an entire wall’s worth of collage in homage to Palmetto. But in the end, he wound up crushing more than her dreams.

After watching a cartoon involving knights and their valiant deeds, Finn wanted to be a knight himself, if only for a few hours. That used to be a habit of his: he saw something on TV he wanted to be and begged Gwen to bring his vision to reality. The week before he was a firefighter, and the week before that he was an astronaut. Gwen never complained when Finn made her play the enemy. Or when he won every time. She found two long cardboard tubes that could double as swords and the game was on. Every game consisted of Gwen chasing her brother around the house in mock anger, threatening to destroy some imaginary property. When Finn ducked to avoid his sister’s attack and she broke the vase sitting behind him, they were sent outside. It was there, in the backyard, that a giant tree grew. The Cross siblings were always climbing it for one reason or another, and this time was no different. With the cardboard tube between his teeth, Finn climbed as high up as he could and sat there, waiting for his sister to arrive. She did, in that dramatic way she mastered, and the fight continued.

Perhaps it was the change in scenery. Perhaps it was the adrenaline. Whatever it was, it raised the stakes. Put more aggression behind their moves than necessary. Gwen’s cheer training made her too quick for Finn, who was determined to be the hero. He swung and slashed to no avail. It wasn’t until he jabbed the tube into Gwen’s stomach that he threw her off guard. She twisted to retaliate, and Finn attacked her again. Then Gwen lost her balance. The scream Finn heard as his sister slipped from the tree was like nothing he ever heard before. He didn’t want to look down, as if the very refusal would bring her back up to him, but he did. Gwen was crumpled at the base of the tree, wide eyes cast skyward, limbs contorted in positions he never thought he’d see. Fear kept Finn from climbing down as his parents rushed out into the yard. All he could do was watch as they knelt in front of Gwen, sobbing. Soon the paramedics took her away, and he cried. And cried. And cried.

The local news caught wind of what happened faster than Finn thought they would. While they never released any specifics, all of their warnings about the dangers of climbing trees and the importance of parental supervision seemed to make a mockery of him. Somehow people suspected he had something to do with the incident, and Finn had to avoid their stares and speculation. His parents avoided him, too. They “forgot” to feed him and take him to school. They left every room he entered. Turned up the volume of the TV to drown out his wailing. While his parents’ actions were heartbreaking, Finn felt he deserved them. He ripped the family’s star right out of the sky. Killed her—or so he thought. Gwen came crashing back into Finn’s life, now a frail figure in a wheelchair who couldn’t speak or do anything for herself. Her round eyes were cast up at the ceiling, forever frozen in time, a vegetative state no one knew if she would ever wake up from.

The guilt was stifling for Finn; he couldn’t even look at his sister without crying. The thought of running away crossed his mind. However, his parents had plans of their own. They wanted Finn to live out every dream he had taken from Gwen.

For the next decade, Finn trained under Gwen’s former cheer coach to become the cheerleader she used to be and more. As soon as he won a trophy or medal, it was stashed away in Gwen’s trophy case. His academic achievements belonged to Gwen, too. Finn wasn’t allowed to celebrate. Wasn’t allowed to rest before being thrust into a new routine for his cheer squad’s next title. He became a robot built to serve one purpose. At times, Finn wondered what things would be like for him if cheerleading wasn’t at the forefront. What he would’ve turned to instead. Whether he’d be happier in that lifetime as opposed to his current one. He taught himself to set those frustrations aside. Shake off the fatigue. Turn on the charm. Everything he did, he did for Gwen, a debt he could never fulfill. 

SEIZE IT WITH EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT

Finn took an entire year off after graduating from high school before heading off to college. In that time, his parents decided it was best for them to keep Gwen and Finn’s obligation to her a secret. They lectured him on what to do and what to say. They made him repeat the same lies over and over until they sounded natural enough: I’m an only child. I chose to cheer. I love Palmetto State. College wasn’t a place for fun or to make friends, only a place for him to showcase the skills he’d honed in Gwen’s honor, for his parents to live out a dream they hadn’t wanted to give up. And so Finn applied to Palmetto State. And, when he was accepted, then came the moment he had been training for: tryouts for the Palmetto State Vixens. His parents drove down to the college for the audition, making sure he knew that there would be consequences for failure. Finn had no choice but to vault and tumble, trying to impress the Vixens the same way Gwen impressed him years ago. As soon as he got a spot on the squad, his parents left without saying a word.

Everything Finn does comes from a fear of disappointing his family. With his parents hovering over his every move, he can’t afford to lose sight of the task at hand. However, it’s difficult to do so when there are so many opportunities around him.  Finn wants to explore Palmetto. Dedicate time to finding his niche, finding himself. He buries those feelings under his status as a Vixen. When he’s not in the classroom, Finn’s practicing somewhere on campus, pushing himself to perform bigger and bolder. Despite being an outgoing sort, he struggles to keep things impersonal between himself and the Vixens. He refuses to make attachments of any kind, afraid he’ll reveal too much about his past. For now, Finn keeps his distance, hoping he’s strong enough to carry the pressure placed upon his shoulders.

FINN CROSS is portrayed by TOM HOLLAND and is CLOSED