68 whiskey

COMBAT MEDIC

“I had seen nothing sacred, and the things that were glorious had no glory and the sacrifices were like the stockyards at Chicago if nothing was done with the meat except to bury it. There were many words that you could not stand to hear and finally only the names of the places had dignity.”

—Ernest Hemingway, A Farewell to Arms

The big bad wolf is gone, but we’ve still got work to do.

In other news, learned how to do a digital block yesterday. It’s kind of funny how used to needles I’ve gotten over the past year. You couldn’t get me within ten feet of one without restraining me. Now they’re no big deal at all. We’re doing foots sticks? No problem. Injecting Toradol into our knuckles? Sign me up! (My tolerance for that stuff is way too high. Everyone else was numb for hours. I could still feel my fingertips half an hour later!) Some of the other guys are still pretty squeamish around sharps, though. I was the only one that didn’t look away from the injection.

So, now my patients have no excuse to cry about the needle, I’ve been through the same thing.. multiple times! As my good friend says, pain is the patient’s problem.

anonymous asked:

Hmm... let's see: I would like to request promt numbers 43 & 68 with Whiskey.

Pairing: Reader x Whiskey.
Warnings: Swearing, slight sexual references.
Word Count: 569
Prompts: “I told you not to fall in love with me.” / “You’re wrong and I’ll prove it.”

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

#79 and #68 for Agent Whiskey ^^

Characters: Reader x Jack “Whiskey” Daniels

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Prompts: 68: “You’re wrong and I’ll prove it.” 79: “I think you’re just afraid to be happy.”

Word Count: 494

A/N: i hope this made sense !!!  

NOT TAKING ANYMORE REQUESTS!


“To a successful mission!” you raised your glass, and Whiskey chuckled to himself as he clinked his glass against yours. The both of you chugged down the alcohol you were drinking before slamming the glasses onto the bar and ordering more. You rested your chin in your palm as you leaned towards Whiskey, swinging your legs back and forth as you sat on the bar stool. “We make a good team, Whiskey.”

“We sure do.” Whiskey agreed, and you laughed as the bartender brought you another round of drinks. The both of you finished them off pretty quickly, before you got to your feet. You walked backwards into the centre of the bar, gesturing for Whiskey to follow. 

“Don’t be shy.” you laughed, holding out your hand, and Whiskey shook his head. “Oh, come on, Jack.”

“I’m not much of a dancer.” Whiskey replied, but he got to his feet anyway. He loved how elated you looked as he took your hand, and the both of you goofily paced around the room, ignoring the amused stares of the people around you. You chuckled as Whiskey twirled you around, and as you spun back, you ended up in his arms, your hands resting on his shoulders. The both of you seemed to freeze as you slowly looked up at him. 

You had been in love with Whiskey for quite some time, but you never said anything about it because you knew it wasn’t wise to be in a relationship with a fellow agent. Whiskey was in love with you two, but his reasons for not telling you were different.

He still missed his wife.

Thinking about her caused him to let go of you and step away, and he marched back to the bar and perched himself onto the stool. Frowning, you hesitantly followed after him, and the two of you sat in silence for a moment.

“Sorry.” you finally said, and Whiskey looked at you.

“For what?” he asked. “I’m the one actin’ weird.” 

“You were thinking about your wife, weren’t you?” you asked quietly, and Whiskey ran a finger along the top of his glass. “Forget what I said. I shouldn’t have brought it up-”

“I’m afraid to be with you because I’m afraid I’ll lose you like I lost her.” Whiskey blurted, the words tumbling from his mouth. You blinked, surprised at his confession, before turning to face him fully.

“I don’t think you’re afraid of that.” you responded, and Whiskey looked up at you. “You know I can handle myself. I think you’re just afraid to be happy.”

Scoffing, Whiskey replied, “That’s ridiculous. I’m not afraid to be happy.”

You pressed your lips together dubiously, and Whiskey sat up. “You’re wrong and I’ll prove it.”

“How-” you were about to ask, but Whiskey suddenly grabbed your face and kissed you. Maybe you were right – he was afraid of being happy. But he sure as hell was ready to be happy now.