#big when worlds collide moment i will not get over it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lucyrose191 · 5 months

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hey i had an idea and i love your seb x reader writing so i wanted to send this to you! driver! reader has a really big accident during a race like shes in a coma for some time seb becomes this completely closed off person but he visits you everyday so one day he comes to the hospital ig and readers heart stopped or something but then she comes back to life and wakes up or she dies idk if they have kids but would be nice if they’re married. idk i leave it up to you just give me some angst pls 🙏🙏🙏

COME BACK TO ME| S.VETTEL

Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x Wife!driver!reader

Summary; Sebastian’s world is turned upside down when he finds out the reason behind the red flag, the aftermath is just as torturous as the moment he got the news.

Warnings; Serious crash (a bit like Jules Bianchi’s), angst, coma, severe injuries, Sebastian’s sad :( Also Kimi and Seb bickering like children.

F1 Master List

It was no secret that Formula One was a dangerous sport, the fans knew it, the FIA knew it and the drivers knew it; but there are decisions that need to be made in order to protect the drivers because their safety should be the number one concern.

So when the FIA decided that that the weather in Suzuka wasn’t severe enough to postpone or cancel the race, pretty much every driver was against getting back on the track, there had already been a crash and to continue was just plain stupid.

Y/N knew that everyone, including the drivers, had their eyes on her. She had won the last few seasons and was the one to beat.

She never had a problem driving in the rain, in fact most of the time it added to the thrill of the race but when you could hardly even see the steering wheel you were holding, it wasn’t fun, it was scary.

She didn’t really know what had happened, she was battling Max Verstappen who had been recently promoted to RedBull; she’s been enjoying the challenge the younger driver is offering her but there were times that she didn’t agree with his decisions, they could be extremely risky and not in a good way, in a way that could cause some serious damage to either him or someone else and it seemed that this time was one of those times that his risks had consequences.

She had been ahead of him when she felt the contact that had been made to the back of her car, it wasn’t light at all, it sent her spinning completely off the track and with the slippery track and the rain continuing to pour she could not stop the car no matter how hard she tried to gain control.

She heard the gasps of the crowd as her car flipped and spun but it faded away as she tried to keep herself from moving about too much in her car; wondering how long it would take for her to stop.

Y/N did stop, eventually, but the moment she felt the contact she knew something was wrong. It felt like she had hit a brick wall, she heard the crumpling of the car’s structure before a pain like no other filled her entire body; her head throbbed and her eyes fluttered closed, her body shrouded by the remains of her car and the heavy rain.

"Red flag, Sebastian, you’re heading into the pits," Riccardo spoke over the radio.

"Fuck sake! I told you guys we shouldn’t have been sent back out here, what happened?" To say he was angry was an understatement, for the FIA to risk the lives of every driver on this track was ridiculous and quite frankly plain stupid.

"What happened, who was it?" He asked again when he wasn’t given an answer, pulling into the pits behind the two Redbulls.

"There’s been a crash, no response," Riccardo vaguely replied.

Sebastian sighed in frustration at the lack of information and detached his steering wheel, pulling himself out of the car, he didn’t even have time to pull his helmet off before Max was walking up to him and grabbing his arms.

"Seb I’m so sorry, I lost my grip and I couldn’t control it and we just collided-"

Sebastian shook his head, cutting Max off. "What are you talking about, what happened?"

Max simply stared at Seb for a moment, guilt filling his entire body as he realised Sebastian had absolutely no idea. "Seb, it’s Y/N…."

It was as thought the world had stopped turning, Max’s voice had faded away along with the sound of the crowds and everything else around him, the only thing he heard were his racing thoughts as he remembered Riccardo’s words.

No response

He looked up at the big screen that was showing the wreckage live, his heart dropped, the car was completely crushed and she was still in it.

He saw as a few of the Marshalls looked towards the ground briefly before looking into the direction of the camera as they all started making the same gesture, not even a minute later the screen was shut off so that no one could see what was happening.

Sebastian didn’t register his feet moving or the drop of Max’s hand from his shoulder but the next moment he was storming into the Mercedes garage demanding for some sort of information.

If it was any other driver entering their garage without permission they would’ve been immediately kicked out but knowing that Sebastian was here for no other reason that to know if his wife was okay they didn’t mention the red race suit that stood out against everyone else’s black and white uniform.

Seeing that Sebastian was simply stood there, seemingly not knowing what to do, Toto walked over to him and directed him away from his team so that they could talk.

"There was no response over the radio so we can assume that she’s unconscious, she went into that barrier at an incredible speed and the from the damage we can see there’s no way she isn’t injured in some way so she’s going to be airlifted to the nearest hospital, okay?" He spoke in a low voice so that no one could hear besides the two of them.

Sebastian made no indication that he had registered Toto’s words but he did swallow thickly before simply walking away and making his way into his own garage; he didn’t speak to anyone, instead heading straight to his drivers room.

He has taken the quickest shower of his life and changed into regular clothes, he had no intention of getting back into that car this weekend and if anyone expected him to then they were delusional.

As soon as he walked through the doors of the hospital he was approached by an older looking nurse that seemed to have been waiting for him and he could tell by the look on her face that he wasn’t going to hear anything good.

She gestured him to follow her; she lead him into an empty hospital room and gestured for him to sit down on one of the two chairs that were underneath the window, she took the other.

"Mr Vettel, I’m going to be straight with you because I wouldn’t want anyone to beat around the bush if I was in your position. The speed and force at which your wife crashed into barrier quite frankly should have killed her so bear that in mind when I go over her injuries with you because they might sound bad but for what happened I’d say she got out lucky."

Her words cut through Sebastian like a knife, tearing into his skin to leave him vulnerable to whatever she has to say next. Though, he’s grateful she’s telling him how it is instead of sugar coating the severity of everything just so that he’s not uncomfortable, he wants to understand and be aware of what exactly has happened so he gulped and nodded for her to continue.

She didn’t look at him sympathetically which he was thankful for but her expression was comforting. "The impact shattered Mrs Vettel’s tibia and fibula in her right leg, three of her ribs were also broken and a few of them are bruised, during the crash something must have made contact with your wife’s head because when we were cutting the helmet off the back of it was already broken through and it’s caused her some severe trauma to her head."

It was as though Sebastian felt the pain with each injury that was listed, the nurse was explaining it precise and slow so that he could probably understand it but there was really only one thing he wanted to know. "Is my wife going to be okay?"

This time the nurse did look at him sympathetically as she saw the pure worry in his eyes, she could see the love he felt for the Mercedes driver and the pain that this was causing him.

"Your wife is in surgery right now to fix both bones in her leg and suture up the injury on her scalp, her ribs should heal by themselves in at least six weeks but will most likely be longer, the thing we’re most worried about however is when she’s going to wake up. Whilst the knock on her head hasn’t caused any internal bleeding, we do think that’s the reason she was unconscious and not the crash itself."

Sebastian’s blood went cold at her words, "So-what, she’s in a coma?"

The woman nodded in confirmation. "Yes, it’s hard to determine when a person in a coma is going to wake up because each person is different when they’re in a position like this and I’m aware of how difficult this is for you to hear but whilst she’s in this state, it’s really the best time for her injuries to heal and hopefully she’ll wake after the worst of the pain has passed."

"How long do you think she’ll be in the coma for?"

"It varies from person to person but I’d say anywhere between a few weeks to a few months."

Sebastian nodded his head, glancing down to his lap where he was fiddling with his wedding ring. "Thank you." He simply muttered to the nurse who took that as her cue to leave.

"Mrs Vettel will be brought here after her surgery is complete, you’re welcome to wait until then or if you wish to go and come back after they’re finished we can give you a call if-"

"I’ll wait," Sebastian interrupted her and she nodded before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.

Sebastian sighed heavily into the silence of the room, placing his head in his hands; now that he was alone the strong front he had put up had disappeared, before he could stop it his eyes were watering and silent tears were falling into his hands.

He didn’t know how long he sat like that before he heard the doors to the room open and a bed was wheeled in by four or five doctors, once the bed was locked in the middle of the room all of them left but one.

The man was probably in his forties but he seemed kind enough as he regarded Sebastian. "You must be Mr Vettel?"

Sebastian hastily wiped his eyes before rubbing his hands on his legs, nodding his head.

The doctor smiled before speaking. "The surgery went well, both bones in your wife’s leg have been reconstructed but those pins will have to stay there for a month or two and afterwards she’ll need physical therapy to regain her strength back and the cut to her head has been sutured up with no issues. A nurse will come by tonight to check her vitals and ensure everything is okay, they usually do checkups every 6-8 hours but if you need something then feel free to press the button."

"I will, thank you." Sebastian smiled weakly.

"As you are her husband you can come and go as you like, you are more than welcome to have someone come and take your place when you want to go and shower or rest. If anyone wishes to come and visit then visiting hours are between 8am and 8pm, after that we only permit one person to stay."

The doctor left shortly after and after taking a deep breath Sebastian got up from his seat beneath the window and made his way to the bed.

The sight of her made him want to burst into tears all over again, she had cuts and bruises all over her face and arms, her right left was resting on a pillow but trapped inside a metal brace that was attached to the pins inside her leg, her head was bandaged to protect the stitches on from the pillow she was laying on.

She looked lifeless and the sight of it pretty much tore him in two.

He didn’t know what to do, he was here alone and the love of his life almost died.

He carefully leaned against the edge of the bed, making sure he didn’t budge anything he shouldn’t before carefully grabbing her left hand, it was bare of any rings and Sebastian hoped that they were in her driver’s room somewhere and not lost because she was so protective over them rings and would be pissed if they were lost.

He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.

It was way too silent in here, he hated it.

He leaned his body forward and pressed his face into the pillow, being mindful that he wasn’t hurting her even if she was unconscious and most likely wouldn’t feel it.

"Please come back to me, Liebling. I need you so much."

Sebastian didn’t leave the hospital that night, he had dragged the chair across the room so he could spend the night beside his wife, he hardly slept instead choosing to sit and simply watch as she ‘slept’ hoping that if he stayed awake long enough then eventually she would wake up.

She didn’t.

He had countless messages from family and drivers but he didn’t answer them, he knew not answering her family was selfish but he found that he really only cared about Y/N and no one else, that and he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

He messaged her and his parents this morning explaining what the doctors had told him yesterday but had left the other messages unread.

Not once had he let go of her hand, not when the nurses came in every couple of hours to do their checkups or when they brought him something to drink or eat, most of which went untouched.

He couldn’t explain the heartache he was feeling, to have the person you love the most in the world be in such a vulnerable position was heart wrenching, especially when it was your job and vow to protect them.

He couldn’t have stopped that crash but he will make sure he is around for every step of her recovery process.

Sebastian was thankful that there wasn’t a race this week because there was no way he was leaving her in the hospital alone to get in the car, he wasn’t in the right mindset anyways.

It seemed silly that he was also thankful that there was only four races left and Y/N had already won the championship otherwise he would’ve been devastated for her.

A knock at the door tore him away from his thoughts and he assumed that it was a nurse but was proved wrong when Max walked through the door with flowers in his hand.

Sebastian pursed his lips and looked down, he couldn’t even look at the man knowing that he was the reason his wife was unconscious in the hospital.

He knew it was wrong to blame him because he had no grip and the weather was no help but he was aware of the way the younger lad drove and knew that he took unnecessary risks, risks that could’ve killed the woman he loved.

"Uhm," Max cleared his throat awkwardly. "I messaged to see if it was okay for me to come but I didn’t get an answer and I just needed to see if she was okay."

Sebastian bit his tongue which was hard when everything inside him wanted to turn and shout at the RedBull driver that this was all his fault and he had no right to come here when he was the reason she was here in the first place, and his wife didn’t even like fucking roses so be can shove them up his arse for all Sebastian cared.

"Is she okay?"

Sebastian scoffed at the question, looking up at Max as if questioning his sanity. "Does she look okay?"

Max looked at him guiltily before glancing away, not being able to stand the look of complete despair in the German’s eyes.

"Just leave," Sebastian shook his head. "My wife’s pretty much on her death bed right now because of you and I really don’t need you coming here pretending like you care when we both know that that the only thing you care about when you’re in that car is yourself, not anyone else and certainly not their lives."

Max bit back the retort that’s on the end of his tongue knowing that the man was not in the right place right now so he placed the flowers on the table by the door and took his leave.

Sebastian sighed and tipped his head back to try and stop himself from crying, he needed to stop crying, he hadn’t done anything else in the last 24 hours.

It had been a week and Sebastian had talked to no one, none of the drivers had tried to visit so he assumed that Max had warned them to stay away which he was glad.

He had left the hospital only twice to pack some clothes and essentials for the two of them, Y/N still hadn’t woken up but the bruising on her face and arms was going down and the doctors had said her ribs were healing nicely.

He had never realised how much he had depended on her and needed her until he didn’t have her to depend on.

He loved her so much and felt like he was going insane with her right next to him but not exactly there at the same time.

Shortly after Max had left that day, two nurses had came in with Y/N’s race suit, fireproofs, balaclava, gloves, boots, two halves of her race helmet and her rings.

Sebastian had wasted no time in placing her rings back onto her hand, he didn’t think she looked right without them and knew that if she woke up without them on her hand she wouldn’t be impressed.

He had almost cried again when he picked up both pieces of her helmet and saw the place where she had been stricken on the head, there was a gash that went right through the helmet and a large red stain on her balaclava that would be beneath where the hole on her helmet is.

He had told his and Y/N’s parents that there was no point in flying in to visit until she was awake and they agreed, he also assumed that the teams had all flown back to their headquarters or the next race location so he was here alone.

Quite frankly, Sebastian didn’t know what to do, there was a race in America this week and even though it was the last thing on his mind and the last thing he wanted to do he knew that he had an obligation to be there, he couldn’t just not show up and it seemed like Britta had the same idea as he saw her name pop up on his phone trying to call him, it wasn’t the first time but it seemed like she was unrelenting this time.

"What do you want?" He sighed as he pressed the phone against his ear, running a hand over his face.

"Oh, so you are alive!" Her surprised voice was way too loud in his ear.

"Just tell me what you want, Britta." Sebastian had no time or patience for her teasing or jokes.

"You need to be in America in three days, Sebastian, I understand that you don’t want to see anyone and the last thing you want to do is get in a car but you do have an obligation to be there." She told him sadly.

"I have an obligation to take care of my family, Britta, I couldn’t give a shit about racing."

"You can’t stay in Japan, Seb."

"What do you want me to do, leave her here in a different country by herself?"

"I think you should move her to a facility in Switzerland for starters so that you can at least be near home."

Sebastian stayed silent, he couldn’t argue with that logic, it probably would be better, even for Y/N so that she wouldn’t have to fly when she was awake and recovering.

"I’ll talk to you tomorrow," he told her before hanging up, not allowing her to say anything else.

The next day he had payed to have Y/N transferred to the closest hospital to where they lived in Switzerland and had flown out her parents so that they could stay with her whilst he was in America.

He had put his foot down on missing media day, he’d go Friday, Saturday and leave immediately after the race on Sunday and would call his in laws multiple times a day whilst he was gone, he was not happy about it but it was the best he could do.

They were currently waiting outside of the room whilst Sebastian said his goodbyes to Y/N, he had spoken to her everyday just on the off chance that she could hear everything that was going on around her, the last thing he wanted was for her to have to suffer in silence whilst she was in this position.

He pressed his forehead against hers, which was now bandage free, closing his eyes to relish in the contact that he wouldn’t have for the next couple of days.

"I love you so much, liebe and I’m going to be back as soon as I can. You better not wake up whilst I’m gone otherwise I’m going to be pissed off with you," he chuckled weakly knowing that is something she’d probably do.

He pressed a kiss to her head and one to the back of her hand before reluctantly getting up, grabbing his back and leaving the room, knowing that if he didn’t go now then he never would.

Sebastian knew he was pushing his limits but couldn’t find it in himself to care, it was Friday and he had arrived in America this morning but hadn’t shown up at the track until just ten minutes before FP1 started.

He had been on the phone with his mother in law as soon as he got off the plane and hadn’t hung up until a few hours later but the real reason he had left it so long to head to the track was so that he could avoid most of the cameras as he was walking in, knowing that they’d now mostly be focused on the team garages.

Speaking of teams, Y/N’s seat had been filled in by Esteban Ocon for the rest of the season, the smallest part of Sebastian felt guilty knowing that Toto Wolff had been trying to find out what was going on with his driver but Seb had made sure everything was kept under wraps.

The only people who knew how she was were family, Britta and Y/N’s PR manager, Freya and every single one of them had no intention of spilling any information.

He could feel the eyes on him and hear the muttering as he walked through the paddock, he hadn’t even been here five minutes and he was already getting annoyed by the cameras and how loud it was.

It pissed him off even more when he saw team members from other motorhomes coming out to watch as if he was going to stand there and make a grand statement to let them all know how Y/N was.

He just ignored them and walked into the Ferrari motor home to his drivers room so he could change into his race gear.

He made sure he had his helmet on before he left his room, making a clear statement that he was in no mood to talk to anyone, thankfully the team respected it and let him get straight into the car, just in time for FP1 to start.

It felt wrong, he and Y/N had a small ritual they did before they got into the car, they had done it for years and this would be the first time getting into the car without it.

"Okay, Sebastian, you’re free to leave the garage, just give Mattia a heads up when you’re ready. You’re on mediums for now," Riccardo spoke through his ear piece.

Sebastian didn’t answer but he did nod his head towards a mechanic to let him know he was ready.

He was top of the time sheet for both practises today, he wouldn’t say he had tried to be in that position, he had just channelled his frustration into his driving.

"Sebastian, top of the time sheet today, does that mean the car was feeling well for you?" The woman in front of him asked, holding out her microphone for him.

"It felt fine," he responded, he wasn’t even looking at her, he was too busy thinking about phoning Y/N’s parents when he got out of here.

"You’re back after a week off, did you end up doing anything interesting?" He was aware that the woman was trying to subtly pry information from him about Y/N and it pissed him off so he just scoffed and walked away, knowing Britta was going to have to do a bit of damage control.

"Hey! Seb! Seb!" He heard Lewis call after him but continued walking causing the English driver to have to run to catch up to him, clasping a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to get him to stop walking.

"Hey, are you alright, mate?"

Sebastian rolled his eyes "I’d be find if everyone stopped asking me that stupid question."

"Alright," Lewis nodded, not one to get offended or hurt at the tone Sebastian used because he understood. "How’s my teammate?"

Seb raised a hand to his forehead in frustration at the question, he could feel himself losing it. "What do you want me to say, Lewis? She’s clearly not fine other wise you would’ve heard something so will you and everyone else just leave me the fuck alone."

He didn’t wait for a reply, instead walking away, hopefully to make that phone call he’s been wanting to make since the last one had ended but just as he was about to shut the door to his driver’s room, a hand caught it.

"For fuck sake, can I not get a moment alone around here!?"

"Don’t start your attitude with me," Kimi grunted and Sebastian sighed, now was not the time for him to deal with Kimi.

"What do you want?"

"I want what everyone else wants."

"Well I hate to break it to you but just because you’re my teammate doesn’t mean I’m telling you how she is."

Kimi rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable on Sebastian’s bed whilst the latter was looking around for his phone.

"That’s not what I was talking about, I’m talking about the mood you’re in, you need to get out of it and get a grip, that’s what Y/N would want, not you walking around and sulking ruining everyone else’s day."

Sebastian shot him a dirty look. "You don’t know what she’d want and neither do I right now because she’s in the hospital, and if anyone has a problem with my attitude I’m perfectly fine with them staying away from me."

Kimi sent him a sarcastic smile, matching his attitude. "Well I have a problem with it cause you took my personality."

"What?"

Kimi sighed and stretched out. "You know how exhausting it is to have to be the happy one out of the two of us, that’s supposed to be your job but since Y/N’s crash, I have to be that person and I’m sick of it."

"Well I’m sorry that my wife’s injuries are such an inconvenience to you," Sebastian rolled his eyes.

Kimi groaned in annoyance, "you are so fucking annoying without her."

"Thanks, I’ll tell Minttu you said that." Sebastian replied sarcastically, now having his phone in his hand.

"Go for it," Kimi shrugged. "When Y/N wakes up I’ll tell her how much of an arsehole you’ve been."

Seb ignored him and pressed his phone to his hear, waiting for his mother in law to pick up for an update.

He had finished P4 in the race that weekend and had gotten straight on a flight back to Switzerland, skipping his post race interviews in the media tent.

He hadn’t even called Y/N’s parents after the race for an update, instead settling for a simple text in the airport when he was boarding the plane; both of them were picking him up from the airport and taking him straight to the hospital, he was strangely looking forward to being able to see her again, even if she was still in a coma.

He was happy that his flight had quite literally flown by and was sitting in the car behind his in laws just twenty minutes after landing.

"How is she?" He immediately asked.

"She’s okay, the doctors have said she’s healing up nicely." Y/N’s dad told him, the news relaxing him a bit.

"Are you guys coming in?" He asked as he held the car door open, surprised when he saw them both shaking their heads.

"We’ll come by tomorrow, you should have some time alone with her."

Sebastian nodded and bid them goodbye, actually happy that they had chosen to do that because after not seeing her for a couple of days, some time alone was what he needed.

He practically ran through the hallways of the hospital, care workers saw him but chose not to reprimand him as they were aware of who he was and how eager he probably was to see his wife.

He exhaled heavily when he got to the closed door of her room, standing there for a few moments to calm down a bit.

When he pushed open the door, he got the shock of his life.

Y/N was lying there in her hospital bed with her leg still resting on a pillow as it had been for the last two weeks but this time, the top of her bed was raised to put her in a sitting position, she had oxygen tubes in her nose but her head was turned towards the door he had just walked through and she was looking at him!

She was clearly very sleepy and tired but her eyes were as open as far as she could hold them and she was looking at him with a sleepy smile on her face.

She blinked slowly at him for a moment as he stared before holding out her hand for him and he took that as his cue to move towards her.

"Hi baby," she mumbled through a smile, not really having the energy to say anything more but it was enough for Sebastian’s eyes to start watering as he collapsed onto the chair that was beside her bed, grasping her hand in his own.

He raised his other to her cheek and softly stroked the skin there, smiling through his tears as he felt her lean into his touch.

"Hi," he breathed in disbelief, "How long have you been awake?" He whispered, fearing if he spoke any louder it would hurt her.

"Before the race, I watched it," she told him as though she was proud of herself was waking up in time to see it.

"Yeah? What did you think?" He humoured her, not really wanting to talk about the race but it seemed to make her happy so he did.

"You did good," she told him, subtly rubbing her thumb across his hand.

Sebastian simply smiled at her, he wiped his face on his arm to get rid of his tears before looking back at her again with nothing but adoration in his eyes.

"I love you so much." He told her surely, as though she may have forgotten whilst she was in the coma.

"Ich liebe dich auch," she replied back softly making him laugh, she always said it in his native language because she thought it would feel more real for him to hear.

"Are you tired?" He asked when he noticed her fighting to keep her eyes open.

Y/N nodded slowly before looking at him. "Come and lay with me," she told him.

Sebastian shook his head softly even though he wanted nothing more than to cuddle with her. "That’s probably not a good idea, liebe."

"When has that ever stopped you?" She pouted but rose an eyebrow at him.

He couldn’t argue with her there so he got up from his seat, protesting when she tried to move and make room for him.

He climbed in next to her and lightly wrapped his arm around her, she scooted closer and carefully adjusted her top hand so that her head was resting against him.

Sebastian rested his head against hers, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Liebe?" He asked, earning a slight hum in return.

"Don’t listen to anything Kimi says, he’s a liar."

"Hm’kay, Seb." She muttered, already pretty much asleep.

"I missed you so much," he muttered against her, carefully tightening the arm he had wrapped around her,

He wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight again.

#formula one #fluff #motorsport #seb5 #formula one x reader #seb vettel #sebastian vettel #sebastian vettel x reader #f1 fanfiction #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel imagine #seb

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barcaatthemoon · 1 month

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down for the count || barcelona x teen!reader ||

you take a bad hit during a game.

some things weren't meant to be joked about. you knew that you could be a bit dramatic, often treating little things like they were big deals. you weren't sure when it had become funny to you to see the look of concern on your teammates' faces whenever you'd go down for a few seconds too long before they realized that you were fine. you knew that it wasn't really funny, but you liked having the knowledge that someone genuinely cared for you.

el classico matches were big deals, and jonatan made you promise to be on your best behavior if you wanted to start. mapi was out on injury, so she wouldn't be there to spur you on towards trouble. everybody seemed to understand the impact of this particular match, it was alexia's first el classico since her injury.

"good luck today, la reina." your tone was cheery and playful, usually something the girls knew meant trouble. however, you genuinely were trying to be on your best behavior. none of them mentioned it, but you could feel them watching you closely throughout the warm ups.

the game iself wasn't what you had expected. you had played in big matches before, where tensions were high and players tended to be a bit aggressive. several girls had nearly trucked through you, and the refs didn't seem to be paying much attention of any of it. you were getting frustrated, and the playfulness from before faded away. the girls were still watching you, but they weren't paying enough attention to notice the switch.

you took a shot that was knocked out of bounds by the keeper, resulting in a corner. you thought your position was good, near the goal, but a bit further away from defenders and misa. she had been putting in the work to block your shots, even going as far as complimenting you on your progress during half-time.

"it's up!" you shouted as you jumped up to head the ball in. you felt something collide with your stomach, knocking you backwards before you could hit the ball. your body was shot back a few feet. alexia had always nagged you about your positioning during corners, claiming that it tended to be in dangerous spots. as you flew backwards towards the goal post, you realized just what she meant.

your head hit the post with a sickening crack. it wasn't a thud, and you didn't move an inch. misa immediately moved to crouch down next to you. she didn't know what to do, but anger filled her as she realized that none of your teammates were coming over to check on you. they all assumed that you were faking it. it wasn't until you hadn't moved for a couple of minutes that any of them sprung into action.

ingrid was the first one by your side. she knelt down next to you and gently moved your head to see where it hit. a wave of nausea washed over her as she saw the blood dripping out from the back of your head. if it wasn't for the small, shallow breaths, ingrid would have thought you were dead.

"pequena, come on, wake up," ingrid pleaded with you. alexia was the next one by your side. it took every ounce of her strength not to just break down as she looked at you. "she's not moving alexia. i don't know what to do."

"we have to let them take her. she'll probably wake up at the hospital," alexia said. it was more for herself than ingrid. she didn't want to finish the game anymore. alexia didn't want to do anything until she knew that you were alright. there wasn't a player on the field who wasn't in some form of distress over what they saw happen to you. for a moment, the whole world seemed to care about you, but you weren't awake to see it.

…

it took nearly two days for you to stablize, and even longer for you to wake up. your parents had stopped by, but only briefly. they had been back in barcelona on business when the game was going on. it was a lucky break that they had been able to show up, despite the fact that you were their only child.

alexia was sickened by the way they dismissed you, even as you laid there in a coma. she may have been the most strict with you and always at her wit's end with your pranks, but alexia loved you. she wanted to protect you, and seeing you in the hospital bed killed her. still, she didn't let herself break down in fear that you'd wake up to see her like that.

"it's been nearly a week," lucy said as she glanced at your bed. "have they said anything?"

"the swelling in her brain is still going down. they've only just been able to go in and repair the damage to her skull. we're all lucky that she didn't hit her head in any other spot or she'd be dead," alexia said. she was just repeating what the doctor had rattled off in rapid spanish back to her english teammate. you had always been fond of lucy, and so lucy decided that she'd stay in your hospital room with you.

"she'll make it out of this, alexia. (y/n), she's a tough little brat," lucy said. alexia needed the reassurance almost as much as she needed you to wake up.

"thank you." alexia reached out to hold lucy's hand. it was as she started to pull hers out of yours that she felt movement. you tried to squeeze her hand and pull it back towards you as you stirred in your sleep. alexia didn't want to get too excited, but lucy shot straight up from her seat.

"(y/n), are you awake?" you heard lucy's voice, but it sounded muffled and a bit echoed. alexia leaned closer towards you as your eyes fluttered open. you let out a small groan at all of the bright lights and your body's sudden discomfort. your head hurt in a way that sent waves of pain all over your body.

"ale, i hurt," you whined. alexia had tried so hard to keep herself composed, and for the most part, it had worked. however, the moment that you looked at her with pain and confusion in your eyes, the dam broke. alexia's head shot down to rest against the side of your bed, but you could tell from the way that her body shook that she was crying. "ale?"

"it's okay, (y/n), she needs this. i'll be right back, okay? i have to get the doctors and call the team," lucy said. you nodded, obviously not going anywhere. lucy was back fairly quickly, and alexia was rushed outside as the doctors caught you up on what happened and ran a few tests. by the time that they were finished, the majority of the team had arrived and were all packed into your room.

"i am glad that you're okay," alexia said as she took your hand in hers. it had taken a couple of hours for the team to stop doting on you, but now things felt normal again. you felt like you were in the locker room, with the exception of alexia, who hadn't left your side. "you scared us all back there… including me. especially me, actually. i'm so sorry that i wasn't there sooner, i don't know what i would have done if you'd…"

"i'm fine, alexia, so you don't have to think like that. mapi's taking me back with her because my parents just left for america and won't be back for another six months. ingrid will be practically begging you for help supervising us," you said with a smile. alexia cracked a small one as well. she was a little fuzzy on the details of your relation to mapi, as was everybody, but the woman had always treated you like her little sister. all anybody needed to know was that you were her family, and all you needed to know was that mapi would always be there for you.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #barcelona x reader #barcelona imagine #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni imagine #teen reader #platonic fic

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starkeyisthelastname · 1 month

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hiiii <3

no cause imagine rafes girl who tagged along on like a business meeting with Barry, and Rafe has to get go take a call or something so he (reluctantly) leave you with barry, but then barry says something to tease you/flirt/something you don’t like so you go tattle to rafe because of course he handles all you’re problems

(I feel like this is season 3 Rafey. 😘)

When Rafe came back to the island to handle business, the last thing he excepted was to find you. There you were, sitting at the island club all fucking pretty and shit. Real fucking pretty… from your hair that flowed down your back, ridiculously long lashes, pink sparkly lips and the little white sundress that clung to your curves. He had never been one to be in a committed relationship, but he did have the family ring now and was becoming a real man. Maybe a little side piece is exactly what he needed.

Inviting you over to Barry’s wasn’t exactly something he wanted to do. He had serious work to do about the cross before his sister and the rest of the pogues somehow magically got it back. You were new to staying at Tannyhill and the place being so big, you got scared easily. He promised you he’d be back soon but somehow there you were sitting on his lap as he discussed putting a fake cross in the shipping container.

You were oblivious to what they were talking about, in your own world as you played with Rafe’s ring on his hand, red sucker in mouth. He had told you to mind your business before you both left the house, which of course you listened to.

His phone buzzed in the pocket of his shorts which he adjusted you in his lap so that he could pull it out. Reading that it was his dad, he hesitated for a moment if he wanted to leave you to answer it. “Damnit. Stay here sweetheart, I’ll be right back.” He said. You pouted, lips drooling from being around the sucker. He gripped your throat tightly, leaning down to place a kiss on your juicy lips.

He leaves you sitting in his place, now alone with Barry. You hummed contently with the kiss you had just gotten, giggling quietly for the dark haired man to hear. He smirked at you, sucking in his teeth as he eyed you up and down.

“You a freak, ain’t ya?” Barry asked with a laugh, gold tooth shining he took a swig of beer.

You weren’t exactly sure what that meant, but the way he was looking at you was making you uncomfortable. Frowning, you stood up from your chair to go find Rafe. You didn’t care that you were going to go tattle, it was better than being with Barry.

Quickly walking around the property, you found him hanging up his phone. His body turned to you in which you ran towards him until you collided with his front.

“What are you doing, kid? I was just coming back.” He said, height towering over you as you looked up at him.

“Rafey… Barry called me a freak.” You told him, lips adoring in glossy pout as you snitched. You clung to his shirt watching as his face twisted trying to understand what you meant exactly. Knowing Barry, Rafe had to know that it was meant in a pervy way. Reaching for his keys, he handed them to you. “Go wait in the truck princess.” He told you in a firm voice.

You weren’t sure exactly what he was going to do. Or what was going to happen. But him coming back with a bloody knuckle said it all. You of course didn’t say a word, perfectly fine with whatever Rafey did. ;)

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #obx

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maxislvt · 10 months

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helloo, first off i love your work ! second, this may or may not be a request but- imagine dark!wanda x spidey!reader, post no way home where r is one of the avengers sent to stop wanda on her rampage. r gets captured by wanda though and turns out wanda remembers r’s identity. she had a crush on r since civil war and now that she has r all to herself…😳

“i’m going to ruin you”

warnings: womb tattoos, coercion, manipulation, spiderperson typical quips in really bad situations, no smut

got a little carried away, whoops!

The last few months of your life have been awful.

Life had been pretty stable for the most part. Trying to balance college, being a superhero duo with your adoptive brother, and the newfound freedom of adulthood was a lot to say the least. Then some big alien freak came along and ruined everything. You and Peter left Aunt May behind for five years.

For better or for worse, you and Peter didn't age. Peter still had his senior year ahead of him and you were only 24. So you both tried to make the most of that.

You were supposed to chaperone your little brother's senior trip through Europe. All you wanted to do was help Peter enjoy the last few months of youth he had before being shipped off to college. Of course, fate had other plans and the trip was interrupted by another cataclysmic event. One unpredictable turn after another. Then suddenly everyone knew your secret identity.

Quentin Beck was a hero and you were half of the duo that killed him.

One edited video and suddenly the whole world was against you and your brother. It was a target on your back you had no way of getting off your back. The magical escape you thought you'd found was nothing but a wolf in sheep's clothing. Universes nearly collided. Three versions of your brother. Two other versions of you. Villains the two of you tried and failed to rehabilitate. A moment of complete darkness for your brother A dead aunt. So much fighting. So much pain. All of it for nothing. At the end of it all, everyone was forced to forget about you and Peter. No more full rides to dream colleges and no more "Amazing Spider Kids". It was just the two of you in a shitty Downton apartment at a community college neither of you really wanted to attend, but that didn't stop you two from trying to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

That need to protect everything and everyone seemed to get you in bigger trouble.

America Chavez. Barely 15 years old, alone in the multiverse, and no one to trust. Her powers and life experience were beyond you — you couldn't even take credit for defeating whatever monster that was chasing her — but you wanted her safe. You foolishly thought that it'd be as simple as finding a hero that could mentor her. Magic wasn't your strong suit. Yet, you still helped America try to escape the claws of the Scarlet Witch along with Doctor Strange.

In the midst of a heated chase, the witch's focus seemed to have shifted. Your mask was ripped by a piece of metal and you could feel the witch's eyes on you. Since you were more focused on protecting America, you decided to send The Scarlet Witch on a goose chase. You and a magical body double of the girl. Unfortunately, you could only run for so long. You didn't bother fighting when you were captured. All you could do was put on a brave face as you were somehow teleported back to your universe. You assumed the witch had gotten a decent portion of America's powers. That worried you, but unfortunately you had to prioritize your personal safety for a moment.

The witch must've known you were too weak to run away because she didn't even bother tying you down. She just stood over you and examined your face. You were nervous and confused to say the least. "So, uh, do you always stand over sacrificial young adults in such a compromising way or am I special?" You quipped. It was a real misfortune your mouth tended to run more when you were nervous. Your heart almost exploded when she reached out for your mask. "Hey, hey! Have some respect for a man's secret identity, will you?" You shouted, trying to push her hands away.

Automatic reflexes were nothing against magic and you were unmasked and it sent your spider senses spiraling.

"You remember me."

"Of course,I remember you. Do you not remember me?"

The airport. Tony had you and Peter flown out for a top secret field mission, that's what he told you at least. You weren't sure what you were fighting for, but you remember the battle clearly. Some guy had grown to a hundred feet tall. You fought some guy with a metal arm. Then someone suddenly started throwing cars. They had all missed you and went straight for Tony, but it was still scary. After the battle, you learned the name of all the people you fought. The weird one, as Tony described her, was named Wanda Maximoff. It's scary how your life had become so eventful that you'd forgotten that whole experience. Well, you couldn't blame yourself for not recognizing her considering the drastic change in her appearance.

"Yeah," You said bitterly, "you threw a car garage at my mentor."

"Your mentor made the bombs that destroyed my home country and had me jailed for powers I didn't ask for."

That was the first time a villain had left you truly speechless. Tony wasn't like that. Was he?It was a lot to process and that wasn't made any easier with the icy cold hand caressing your cheeks. "If you're going to drop an information bomb, can you at least give me a second to —" Your sentence was cut short by her thumb slipping into your mouth. Wanda had managed to slip past your spider senses. It was odd considering you were definitely not calm nor did you trust her.

"I figured he didn't bother telling you the whole truth," Wanda's voice had gotten low and seductive. Her thumb pressed down on your tongue as she continued to monologue. Your squirming didn't phase her at all. "I could hear your thoughts the moment you stepped foot in the airport. So loud and frantic, but nothing but innocence and desire for approval. It's a shame I wasn't able to see you again after that. I was lost in a hex of my own deepest desires and do you know what was there?" A smile spread across her lips as she felt you relax out of curiosity. "The two of us, happily married with two children, and living in New Jersey."

The statement made you jump and start fighting again. Married with kids was definitely not on your list of goals in the next few months, living in New Jersey just sounded dreadful. You managed to get her thumb out of your mouth just long enough to speak. "I'm sorry to hear about your crazy magic thing, I'm not ready to settle down yet. Maybe come back in six years once I've graduated, yeah?"

Wanda binded your wrists with magic. Her hand came down on your cheek with all the strength she had. Despite her frustration, she was happy to see you were still as witty and innocent as the day you two met. "I think I have a plan you'll like." She smirked as she summoned the darkhold. It opened on its own. The book turned towards you and translated itself so you could understand it. "Your innocence," she said before ripping you suit, "and your body in exchange for the girl's safety."

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. It certainly wasn't a fair deal, even more unfair once you looked over the spell presented to you. A womb tattoo magically etched into your skin that would give Wanda complete control over your libido, orgasms, and a bunch of other depraved things you hadn't even heard of before. Wanda definitely wasn't the woman you imagined would take your virginity, but it wasn't an offer you could refuse. Strange wasn't strong enough to defeat Wanda and letting America die wasn't an option in your mind.

You put on as brave a face as you could before speaking, "If you so much as lay a finger on that girl, the deal is off." Your voice faltered at the feeling of Wanda's lips pressed against your neck. A moan nearly escaped your lips when Wanda's hands began exploring your body. The skin of your lower stomach began to tingle. This was it. This was how you lost your virginity.

Wanda's lips curled into a smile. A real one that showed off her perfectly white bunny teeth. She was no longer concerned with America. You were all she needed now.

"I'm going to ruin you," She whispered, "and you're going to enjoy every moment of it."

You wanted her to be wrong. You wanted so badly to hate the way her hands felt against your bruised skin and the softness of her lips on your neck, but you couldn't. Months without affection left your body desperate for any form of human touch. It is shameful and almost disgusting.

"Shh, I'll treat you right. Just be good for me."

#panther speaks #anon #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda fanfic #dark!wanda maximoff #panthers drabbles

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ghost-proofbaby · 7 months

Text

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER THREE: ALL TOO WELL

AND I KNOW IT'S LONG GONE AND THERE WAS NOTHING ELSE I COULD DO, AND I FORGET ABOUT YOU LONG ENOUGH TO FORGET WHY I NEEDED TO.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, description of panic attack, minors dni

☆ WC: 5.7K+

☆ A/N: it'll be a short fic, i said. short and sweet and simple, i lied to myself.

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

The moment your name leaves his lips, you swear the world halts on its rotation.

This was real. Every fear and every anxiety you had wrestled with over the last twenty four hours wasn’t for naught – he was here, sitting before you, breathing your name out like a sigh of relief when all you felt was pain. Stabbing, radiating pain. It’s even worse than looking at pictures and headlines of a stranger on a phone screen. Something about him suddenly being tangible, suddenly being real, sends you reeling.

Lydia looks wildly between your showdown with the ghost of a man before you, “I’m sorry… Do you two- do you know each other?”

Not anymore.

“I-” you choke on your stutter. You’re frozen under his stare, going ashen as your head spins. Leave the room. Think of an excuse, get out of this room, run away. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

It’s the world’s most pathetic excuse, but the only thing you can spit out before you’re turning heel and running, just as your body had so desperately craved. You nearly bump into one of the security guards you’d just bravely had a confrontation with.

They’d demanded your phone, you had put up a fight. You had stood your ground. Had held your chin high, dared them to push further even once they had your cell phone in their grasp, and displayed all that self-assuredness you had curated in the last two years. Only to end up scampering past them like a wounded animal mere seconds later.

Pathetic.

Lydia calls out something after you, but it reaches deaf ears as you blaze down the hallway. Your chest is squeezing, as if someone had wrapped it in shrink-wrap and sucked all of the air right out of it, swathed so tightly you could feel every pounding beat of your pulse racing. Your eyesight completely blurs, not quite from tears but rather a mere loss of focus. You nearly knock over one of the god forsaken fake plants Lydia insists as a primary form of decor, hardly being within the right mind to reach out and right the oversized bush of green plastic.

But you don’t have to. Right as your back collides with the wall off to the side of the plant, breathing only coming in short and miserable pants, a different hand reaches out to catch the plant. A ringed hand.

When Eddie says your name again, it’s not a sigh. It’s laced with panic as you support your full weight against white plaster and stare at where knuckles wrap around faux wooden stems.

“Hey,” he stresses, hand leaving your line of sight as he puts a large palm on each of your shoulders. You can’t look at him, not yet, “Hey, can you breathe for me? C’mon, big breaths.”

This close, you can smell the cologne. It’s not even the same woodsy drugstore scent that had lingered on the pillowcases he’d left you to cling to while on tour. Even that, something so miniscule as what cologne he now wore, had changed. And the new and unfamiliar scent chokes you, turns your desperate gasps for air even more futile.

You had walked out of that apartment two years ago, without any intention of ever being this close to him again. You’d sworn to yourself you’d never be this close again.

“You’re having a panic attack,” he squeezes your shoulders within his hold ever so slightly, as if attempting to ground you, “You need to breathe.”

Your eyes nervously find his brown ones. For a second, you recall summer days when the sun would hit them just right, turning them into molten honey for your tasting. Soft and glowing, warming you from the inside out so effortlessly.

But there’s not a single shred of sunlight in this hallway. The dark brown falls flat against your vision.

“I’m fine,” you very clearly aren’t, struggling to even get the words out into the air between you two, “I’m- I’m fine.”

He doesn’t fight you when you reach up to swat away his hands. He lets you, hands falling away with ease, touch retracting as if it had never burned you. You take the chance to look over the metal now settled on his fingers, and you realize he still wears all the same ones you remember so vividly. A cross, a pig’s face, an animalistic skull. But there are new ones added to his collection, adorned on his right hand rather than the left. Unfamiliar and odd, the bulky metallic additions are more plentiful. A silver snake wrapped around his pinky, a large spider with the body of a Magic 8 ball on his pointer, a bat spread eagle on his middle. There’s a chunkier one on his thumb, thinner ones added above a few of his second knuckles, but you can’t clear the haze of your vision long enough to pick up on the designs. You choose to focus back on the familiar ones instead, old and comforting even in your panic.

New rings, new cologne, new habits – the Eddie before you is not the Eddie you once knew.

“Okay,” he’s whispering now. You’re not even sure what excuse he used to follow you out here without causing a scene. Maybe he did cause a scene, surely a grander one than you. He had that privilege now; he was an untouchable rockstar, he could afford to raise a ruckus. “I… Are you sure?”

It’s hard to believe there was a time he was a familiar comfort when all that remains now is the awkward distance between the two of you.

But when he takes a step back from you, the new cologne leaves your stratosphere and the new rings leave your field of vision, and the breaths finally come just a tiny bit easier. Still not enough to satiate your lungs, but enough that the headrush begins to pass.

“I’m sure.”

You try to insert such finality in those two words. As if whatever had just happened would fade and never exist, as if you could walk back into that conference room and take yourself off this project. You can’t. Eddie has a sense of control, a grip on his reality and the reigns of his choices, but you don’t. If you were to demand Lydia remove you from the project, you’d be risking termination. You’d be risking everything – and it may not be much, but you’d built it brick by broken brick these last few years. You’d salvaged what you had been able to out of the ashes of what had been, but it hadn’t been enough. It had hardly been enough for a foundation. You’d built up the person that now stood before him from practical scratch.

The weight of just how much you had to lose hits suddenly – the realization that this was happening and you had no control of it.

But Eddie did. He had to.

“You need to go back in there,” you start, voice still shaking and eyes still averted, “And you need to demand that they reassign you guys. You… You need-” you begin to stutter and fumble to find the right words. You could have lashed out, could have tried to pour salt in a wound you weren’t even sure still existed so that Eddie made the choice on his own. But your mind is muddled and you’re desperate, “Someone else can take on the project. You need to go and demand that someone else takes on the project.”

“What?” Not the response you wanted. Not the response you needed, “I- No.”

Two years later, and he still found a way to do significant damage.

Your eyes snap up, “What do you mean no?”

“I mean no.”

“I haven’t asked anything of you. Not back then, not after everything happened, I-”

He cuts you off with a scoff. “Can’t ask for anything if you just fall off the face of the fucking earth.”

You hadn’t noticed before, but as his walls begin to build, you realize that the prior interaction had been something vulnerable. Something where neither of you were on the defense quite yet like you’d always imagined a reunion would go. All that had mattered ten seconds ago was you being okay, him coming after you, making sure you were fine. He’d allotted you all the care and attention you had craved so terribly two years ago, nearly begged for until your knees had bled for.

“Eddie,” you whisper, getting too distressed to think straight, “Please, for the love of God, just make them reassign the project-”

“I can’t,” he interrupts, shaking his head, “Do you think I’d put myself through this if I could help it? I fucking can’t. I have absolutely no control in there. I didn’t even-” he cuts off his sentence, looking you in your eyes, leaving more to be said.

He didn’t even what?

“I can’t do anything about it,” he says instead of whatever had been on the tip of his tongue, “Trust me – if I could, I would. But I can’t. So why don’t you say something?”

It’s your turn for scoffing and disbelief, “I can’t. I’m not the one with all the power and glory-”

“Is that what you think I have?”

“That’s what I know you have.”

You both go quiet as a battlefield fills the distance between you. All anger, all regret. None of the love or care that had once existed between you two exists here in this quantum plane of sharp words and deadly jabs.

“Just- please ask for a reassignment,” you try with one final plea, eyes hard on him, “Say that that first impression left you unimpressed, I don’t care. She won’t fire me for that.”

“Once again, no. As it turns out,” his voice is low, dangerous, unfamiliar. A tone he had never used before with you, “Even the one with all the power and all the glory can’t make miracles happen. Sorry, doll.”

He doesn’t await your response, leaving you on your own as you stay pressed against the wall and he’s walking away.

What is the saying? ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’?

You were certainly feeling scorned.

You felt ripped wide open, beaten and bruised and damn scorned as he leaves a conversation you weren’t finished with. You can’t tell which limb aches the most – the shoulder where his now strange hands had held onto you, your fingers that had curled into pained fists at your side to show you were prepared for a fight, your rib cage that still struggled to expand and accommodate the air now vacant of his cologne that you needed after your panic attack, or the legs that had once carried you away from Eddie Munson only to lead you right back to him.

There’s nothing you can do, though, beyond composing yourself. You take the same big, deep breaths that Eddie had tried to coax out of you moments before. Your fists slowly unfurl and your palms rake against the side of your jeans in an attempt to wipe away the sweat of the interaction.

Fine. If he wouldn’t help you, you could handle this. You could manage this project, plan a goddamn party for your ex-boyfriend’s new single. You would treat it just as you did every other previous project you had excelled at, and you would avoid all unnecessary contact with him just as you had with previous clients.

As a matter of fact, you could probably get away with avoiding all contact.

He hadn’t hired you. His management had. And, according to him, he had no real power in this situation. If he had no say in the matters, then there would be no reason to reach out to him.

You could do this. You could handle this.

It’s a mantra of salvation that you repeat to yourself internally as you take confident strides back to that conference room, not even stopping for the guards this time before you burst back into the room when your imminent doom awaits.

The repetition falters a bit when all eyes land on you as you take your first steps into the room.

Your name comes out of Lydia’s mouth like a hiss, her teeth locked into a smile that would better pass into a grimace as she asks, “How nice of you to join us again. Please, take a seat.”

“Of course,” you can’t look her in her eyes for very long, immediately rushing to sit at the chair she’d motioned towards. You haven’t spared Eddie a single glance – you haven’t spared any of the boys you’d once known a look. Instead, you look up to direct an apology at the only face you don’t recognize before you, “I’m truly sorry.”

The older gentleman, wrapped in a certain kindness and warmth below his professional attire, smiles. And in an instant, his face isn’t quite as unfamiliar, “No worries. When Nature calls, right? Regardless, I’m Matt. Nice to meet you.”

You can guess which hole in Eddie’s life he’s attempting to smother, which shoes this man serves to fill. He has more hair than his predecessor, but the grin is the same.

If you picture the man he reminds you of back in Hawkins, you’ll surely begin to ache.

When you reply with your name, you can hear a fragment of your youth in your voice. Better days spent in Forest Hills trailer park, loitering about a trailer as Wayne Munson asks you how well of an eye you’ve been keeping on his nephew. You’d always lie, say you were keeping him in line when you knew you’d spent the day following him right into trouble, like some sort of lost puppy. Like some sort of loyal soldier. It occurs to you that that’s who you had always been; a fierce soldier over the shoulder of Eddie, ever the brave commander. You would have followed him into battle without a second of consideration, you did follow him all the way to New York without ever taking a final glance at your hometown.

You wondered if he had tried to replace you as well. You imagine it; the new and fresh face that replaced yours in picture frames, that laid beside him at the end of each night he returned home, that heard a whisper of I love you over the line to the backtrack of a sound rehearsal.

Were there ever any bloody wars between him and his new lovers that could compare to the battles never fought between you two? Did anyone else in this world know the wounds of his gun never fired?

The smoke clears. You still don’t look at Eddie, afraid to only see the commander you once knew. You force a smile, putting on a soldier's bravado that doesn’t fit quite right anymore.

Bullets never fired, triggers never pulled, but the blood stained the same.

“So, where shall we begin?”

—

Matt does most of the talking for the next hour. Sheet after sheet of paperwork is laid down in front of you, your hand beginning to cramp from signing your name so many times, and the details are discussed.

A new single, set to release in three months. A release party that needed to be grandeur and garner the type of attention that Matt feared had been waning from the band due to radio silence on their music front. The outlines of the project were clear cut, simple enough, and you had yourself fooled just well enough that this would be easy.

You kept your eyes set on the prize and never once noticed the tomfoolery occurring between the band members. The words on the tip of their tongues that Eddie keeps quiet through quick kicks to their shins beneath the table, the individual hurt reflected in each of their eyes as you treat them no better than strangers. That treatment of Eddie, they understood. But them?

They could never understand.

“What’s the name of the single, if I may ask?” you question as you look over one of your copies of the paperwork. Lydia had been eerily silent, allowing you to take the lead.

Despite the rough start, it was paying off. Having a switch for your emotions can be a good thing, as it turns out.

“You may,” Matt nods before turning to the boys. It’s the first time he's looked to them for answers during the entire meeting, “Shall I do the honors, or would you boys rather do it yourselves?”

It’s a chance for all the members of Corroded Coffin to open their mouths without silent reprimanding from Eddie beneath the table, but he beats them to it.

“Dial Tone.”

You freeze your reading.

There’s something in the way he says it that forces you to look up. As if he’s only speaking to you, and the rest of the room is a faded mirage for him to send away for these private moments. Still a commander, even when his bravest soldier has left him.

“Sounds… interesting,” you murmur, taking a few seconds too long to meet his gaze, unsure of what to say, “Rolls off the tongue easily.”

“It certainly does. Which, ironic, given the situation that inspired the song.”

“And what would that be?”

You’re both wearing masks in front of an audience half made up of people painfully aware of your history, and the rest being painfully oblivious.

Does Matt know about you? Lydia certainly doesn’t know about Eddie.

“Words never said. Answers never given. Phone calls missed and never… returned.”

You’re not stupid, but you wish you were. It feels a bit selfish, a bit self absorbed, to so quickly assume you’re the inspiration.

But how could you believe anything else when Eddie is looking at you like that?

Hollow eyes, devoid of all the honey you once reveled in. Not so much of a stain of sweetness you swear you still taste on the back of your tongue. He’s looking at you with blame, well-deserved anger, and yet not an ounce of the guilt that should exist somewhere in those depths.

“How riveting,” you play along, trying to swallow down the waves of emotions, “Sounds like it’ll really draw in your audience. Might even be relatable to a few.”

Answers never given. Like how someone could stop saying they loved someone they’d spent years planning their life with, like how he could stop calling so easily, how he could leave so easily.

“Fingers crossed,” his forced smile in return is almost sinister, and you know it was the right choice to avoid speaking to each other until this moment.

There will be no contact. You know now that if you take on this project, which you technically have through law-binding contracts, that you won’t be able to be civil with Eddie. There is a history that can never be erased, mistakes made and wounds inflicted by both sides. Two worlds of hurt caused by opposing sets of hands that can only clash when they try to meet in the middle.

But then Matt, sweet Matt that you had come to actually like during this meeting, has to burst your bubble.

“Right, well, the good news is the boys aren’t on tour for the time being, meaning there will be plenty of time to talk about the small details and how the single will come into play during planning,” he explains, happily and still so unaware, “As a matter of fact, I would like to emphasize just how much I would appreciate you including the boys, especially Eddie, in this ordeal. His participation would be very helpful.”

Some silent form of communication happens between Matt and Eddie, glinting eyes and sudden frowns meeting raised eyebrows and fake smiles, but it’s not your concern.

The last thing you want during this project is Eddie’s involvement.

“Of course!” You need to think of an excuse, push for a way to keep him out, “But if Eddie is too busy, I’ll completely understand. I know that a single usually means an album, and that can be very time consum-”

“He won’t be too busy,” Matt interrupts, still staring at Eddie as if he’s daring him, not even questioning you singling him out as he does the exact same.

You recall what Eddie had insisted in the hallway, that his reach of control wasn’t as far as you had been assuming.

Swallowing hard, you see another relic of Wayne Munson in this man – he wasn’t someone to argue with, “Right, of course. Eddie will be involved. Absolutely.”

All the power and all the glory – but did it really rest in Eddie’s palms like you assumed?

“She has a point,” Eddie finally finds his voice, leaning back in his chair, trying to relax the tension from his shoulders, “I do have the album to work on.”

“And now you have this. I’m sure you can find a way to multi-task.”

Your comparison was accurate. It had been a while since you had seen another grown man capable of shutting Eddie down so quickly, tearing down his walls of affinity for challenging authority and reducing him to nothing more than a shell of his younger self. Matt and Wayne would have gotten along well. You doubt that they’ve met, but you know a bond would have formed between the common denominator of being able to subdue the once-rambunctious boy before you.

Eddie pouts nearly the complete remainder of the meeting. And those foolish, bitter shards within you become determined to be the bigger person. To smile and nod along, even when you disagreed with certain terms discussed. To be agreeable, to be good, to be better. This new version of you has something to prove; that you’ve done better without Eddie, that you’ve changed into something that no longer aligns with who he is.

It’s all for show, but you tell yourself no one can see through the cellophane disguise.

The only remaining signatures aren’t required from you but the rest of the boys. A single contract is passed down the line, and each of them sign themselves away to the agreement. Line after line of swooping black ink locks the five of you into an entrapment, a crowded dance of newly made strangers who have no choice but to play pretend.

Eddie makes it a deliberate point that he’s the last one to sign. Forces Grant to slide the prettily detailed paper right in front of him until it’s clear he’s making no move to pick up his pen, and the poor guy has to stretch a bit further and let Gareth take it rather than the stubborn rockstar. Only once Jeff’s own night-shade of ink has looped over one of the many lines does it return back to Eddie.

He looks you in the eyes for several seconds too long, pen crooked beside the paper on the table. You can’t take a single breath as you register how lifeless his eyes remain.

He’s not the person you once knew, but you are no longer the girl that once saw the world in him.

You will not drop to your knees before him, you will not worship the ground he walks on, you will not break. Certainly not first. Certainly not at all.

There’s no final words before hands donning unfamiliar rings pick up a pen amongst the silence. Just the click of bringing the ink to life, and the soft scratch of promises that will not be kept. It’s nothing new amongst the two of you.

As a matter of fact, if the scratch of the pen could echo, it might just resemble the sound of the door on that haunted and vacant apartment closing for the final time behind you two years ago.

—

“Do you two know each other?”

You had been waiting for this moment. Once Matt had called for a quick break so that he could organize and make copies of all paperwork, you knew Lydia would be chasing you down.

“What do you mean?” you question airily, topping off the small paper cup of water you had used as an excuse to dismiss yourself into the corner of the room, “Me and Matt? No, I’ve never-”

“Not you and Matt,” she moves to stand in front of you, your back to the room and the band, as she continues in an authoritative whisper, “You and the band – you and Eddie.”

“Why do you think we know each other?”

Please don’t catch on. Please don’t notice. Please don’t make me admit it.

Please don’t fire me.

She retrieves her own water, moving as if she wasn’t having such an intense conversation with you at this moment. All a show for the clients, no doubt. You weren’t the only skilled actress in this room, “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way you ran out of this room when you saw him, maybe the way he ran after you without a word. Maybe the way the two of you spent a good ten minutes alone in that hallway, and how the rest of that band has been looking at you like you’re a ghost. Please don’t tell me you had a fling with Eddie before this. I really need my best person on this project, but I can’t have personal relationships interferin-”

“No, we don’t know each other,” you cut her off, ignoring the compliment and taking a sip to give your chance to formulate a better addition to the lie. It wasn’t really a lie, though, was it? “I promise it’s nothing, and it won’t interfere. I just…” I just hate him. I just miss the version of him I used to know. I just need you to take me off this project as quickly as possible for a reason that won’t make you think less of me or affect my future career here. “I don’t like the band, you know this.”

“I knew you weren’t a fan of them, but…” she trails off and looks over your shoulder, no doubt surveying the band. When you stood up from the table, they’d all been feigning boredom as if they hadn’t been taking turns staring you down so intensely. You felt like an animal under observation. “I thought it would be a good thing. To have a neutral party take this on. Why, exactly, don’t you like them?”

“ I don’t think he’s a good person.”

He as in Eddie. It goes as unspoken knowledge. And, technically, it isn’t a lie. Based on the headlines, based on his coolness this entire interaction, you don’t think he’s a good person. Not anymore.

You can feel the four sets of eyes on you even now. Your exchange with Lydia has been too quiet for them to hear, but you know you’re still being watched carefully.

“You don’t have to think he’s a good person, but you do need to play nice,” Lydia reminds you. You open your mouth, prepared to argue that you had been playing nice when Lydia waves her free hand to stop you, “I know, I know. I’m not saying you haven’t been perfectly professional. You have been, aside from your… bathroom break at the beginning, but please just remember that.”

You nod, stiff as ever. She was giving you more grace than you deserved if you tried to look at it from an outsider’s point of view.

“Of course,” that tone of professionalism, that mask to hide the whirlwind of emotions. You could do this.

You had to do this.

Choice is an illusion when Matt returns with the copies of paperwork, dividing the files up between himself and Lydia. Choice is an illusion as fake smiles are exchanged and pleasant goodbyes are offered. Choice is nothing but smoke and mirrors when all is said and done, and the entire group of you all stand outside the conference room, ready to part ways with a promise of next time, meaning the next meeting.

You never had a choice in any of this. Eddie did, somewhere along the line, but you didn’t.

Lydia and you both hand over business cards to Matt’s waiting hands, a deliberate move on your part. You bypass Eddie’s expectant glare entirely. The quicker this is over with, the faster he’s exiting the building and no longer occupying the same room as you, the better.

“We’ll be in contact,” Matt promises as he tucks the cards away carefully.

“I look forward to it,” you assure him, as if you weren’t dreading every second of what those contracts had detailed.

Three months. You had just signed on to guarantee Eddie Munson being back in your life for three months. The thought makes you nauseous.

Matt, ever the normal person, takes it as his queue to leave. Lydia has nodded, turned and began her short trek to her office as the band’s manager starts his journey to the elevator. Most of Corroded Coffin scampers after him, gazes on the floor as they retreat to a private space that will certainly be filled with questions. You almost wish there was a way for you to hear what will be said. The topic of conversation, undoubtedly, will be you. You and Eddie, Eddie and you. A pair of intertwined souls that had taken a sharp knife to your connection only to end up with Fate cruelly retying it on this dreadful day.

Fate, and Eddie, it seems.

His hand reaches out and catches your upper arm before you can escape the exchange properly.

“Can we talk?” You stare at him blankly to hide the racing of your heart and pounding in your mind. Those hands on you, skin on skin, leaving an inevitable mark. An inevitable stain. “Go for coffee, go for lunch, just-”

“No.”

You don’t have to think about your answer. Your pause was only born out of shock.

His eyebrows furrow, “No? What do you mean no?”

It feels like a pathetic repeat of your interaction in the hallway, when you had begged him to save you from this doomed union. Except now, you hold the cards in your hand. The first sense of control you’ve been offered this entire time.

“I mean no,” you repeat yourself clearly. Matt is halfway down the hall, and the boys trailing right behind him seem to fumble over their steps for a second. Jeff even goes as far as to look over his shoulder at the brewing storm appearing behind them, but clearly thinks better of intruding, “I don’t want to talk. I don’t want coffee, and I don’t want lunch.”

End of story.

Except, it isn’t, because Eddie’s face only twists further in pain, “We have to talk at some point-”

“Actually, we don’t. I’d prefer we didn’t. I think we can both agree it’ll be better, easier, for both of us to keep this strictly professional until we can go our separate ways again.”

He looks as if you had physically reached out and struck him. The force of your words nearly makes him rock backwards, face falling and mouth agape as he tries to grapple with the determination in your words.

If you were a fool, you’d mistake it for a flash of disappointment. But it’s not possible – it couldn’t be disappointment, only arrogance. He had obviously been assuming you would just give in. Your change just hadn’t become clear enough to him yet. It would, in time.

And now, the two of you seemingly had too much of it to endure.

“Actually, I think we can both agree that’s a load of bullshit,” he crassly argues back once he’s regained composure, “You know that’s not possible.”

You shake your head, suck in a bit of the skin of your inner cheek between your molars as an internal encouragement to stand your ground, “It is. It’s not only possible, but is exactly what’s going to happen.”

“You heard Matt. We have to talk at some point, even if it’s just about this and not us.”

“And we will. We can talk about this project all you want, Eddie. But not over lunch, and not over coffee,” you swear you draw blood from your cheek as you take back on that tone of professionalism, ice cold and completely disconnected, “My preferred form of contact is email. I usually respond in a timely manner, even after hours-”

“Don’t do that,” he stops you.

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m just another one of your clients.”

The metallic flavor floods the deepest corners of your mouth, overtaking the aftertaste of a honey you once knew on the back of your tongue, “That’s exactly what you are. One of my clients.”

Just a client, and nothing more. A boundary must be drawn, or else there will be more blood spilled than a mere drop from biting your inner cheek. And you aren’t prepared to bleed for him – not again. Never again.

He opens his mouth, as if he has more to dig out of the grave of this conversation, when Matt’s voice calls from down the hallway, “Eddie! C’mon! There’ll be time to talk later, we’ve got a meeting with the producer across town now.”

His stance goes rigid, annoyance rolling off him in waves, eyes still focused on you.

Maybe the reminder of time, the three month timeline, hurts him just as much as it hurts you. Maybe, just possibly, his arm has also been twisted in carving out a space for you in his life once more, whether strictly professional or not.

He deeply exhales through his nose, “I don’t even have your email.”

“Matt does. He has my card.”

“Yeah, he does. I don’t. How am I supposed to reach you through your preferred form of contact without it?”

“I’m sure you’ll find a way.”

You mean to smile at him just as you would the owner of the bakery opening on Third Street, or the mother of a bride trying to share the weight of responsibilities for a wedding. It doesn’t come off that way, though – you can feel the sadness of it tickle the corners of your mouth before he’s even slowly turning from you.

You watch the figure of Eddie Munson walk away from you, and you begin to wish he were walking out of your life rather than only out of the building for the time being.

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kivino · 6 months

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KIVI, YOU SWEET ANGEL YOU.

can you write a price x gn!paramedic!reader where price is on leave, and maybe he gets into a car accident that isn’t too bad so he refuses to go to the hospital, but the cute paramedic keeps insisting on at least checking him out in the ambulance……….. 😋

DOUBLE VISION || JOHN 'BRAVO 0-6' PRICE X PARAMEDIC!GN!READER

Word counter – ~1.9k

Tags/Warnings – mentions of car crash, intoxication, medical examinations, fluff, first meeting, and lack of medical professionalism, lmao.

A/n – PLSS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE, IT TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE TO GET TO THE REQUEST I’M SORRY MWAH. also credits for the name go to @mockerycrow as well, they’re a genious and have the biggest brain out of the two of us.

ao3 link for this fic

It’s always a slow process for John - getting used to the slow, civilian ways when he finally gets his leaves approved. When he spends so much time on the field, more often than not he starts to forget about “the other side” of life. Lack of noise, mundane mornings, and silent nights come and with them, the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness starts to set in his gut. John gets reminded about the lack of anyone’s presence in his life. No one is waiting for him back home, and no one will probably be any time soon, with how work takes over most of his free time. And then the captain remembers he’s not getting any younger.

Of course, he had plenty of experience and relationships before, but none of them lasted until now when his hair was already graying and wrinkles were starting to riddle his face here and there. John wasn’t insecure about his age, no, because that would be foolish, really, rather it was the fact that he had no one to share with all the years that were ahead of him.

What John also had a hard time getting used to was driving the busy streets of London with its crazy drivers after months of not getting behind the wheel, which brings him to this moment. Well, it really was on him for trying to get somewhere after happy hour in all the pubs in the area ended, he should’ve probably anticipated some drunk idiot would want to drive back home today. John wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment to fill out all the paperwork and figure out who was in the wrong. His thoughts were far away from here. Probably all the impact from the airbag and the hit.

He’s had it worse before, of course, so some bruises and scratches here and there wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. John felt some pulsing pain in his knee, making it harder to stand upright, and a bit of an ache in his neck from the whiplash, but again, it wasn’t as bad as getting thrown into the wall by an explosion or falling out of a damn helicopter.

So now he has to spend the whole evening working out things with the police and that drunk idiot who bumped into him, freezing his ass off in the rain. Just perfect. John feels a surge of annoyance and exhaustion wash over him, he pinches his brow, letting out an impatient sigh. Cops have arrived on the scene already and started examining the two collided vehicles, after putting around some traffic cones so some other lucky fellas don’t decide to join in on the fun. From his spot on the sidewalk, John can also see the paramedics, who had to get involved because as soon as cops started questioning that drunk guy, he decided to scrunch into himself and show the world all the contents of his stomach. As if it needed to get even more complicated than it already was.

“Excuse me, sir? You’re the other…driver involved in the accident?” John suddenly hears a voice, a bit on the quiet side, which brings him out of his thoughts that involve strangling somebody in a variety of different ways. And oh, his nights instantly become tens, if not thousands of times better when he sees the owner of said voice.

Judging by the identifying markings you were a paramedic, and a very cute one at that, with your dull green uniform and a big jacket on, brows tied together in a concerned expression. Oh, and your eyes, they looked absolutely lovely in the low streetlights. Price is taken aback for the moment, forgetting every word in his vocabulary. He feels his heart starting to beat faster, blood flowing through his veins so fast he’s sure if it wasn’t for the evening darkness he’d most likely resemble a tomato. But then John realizes he must say something because just staring at you would just make him seem like some old creep. And he absolutely didn’t want that.

“Yes, that would be me.” He speaks up after clearing his throat. You nod to that, attentive gaze still on him. John then adds on after a short pause, which took him to let out a deep sigh. “You need me for anything?” Anything. Something. Please.

“Just checking up.” John feels his heart melt at that small smile that grazes your lips, making it obvious you’re satisfied with his answer. “You seem to be holding up better than the other driver.” You joke in an attempt to either lighten up the mood, which John appreciates, or to calm yourself a bit. It didn’t escape him how you seemed a little shaky. It was Friday night, so today’s shift might have been rough on you. Always the Friday nights.

“Well, anyone would hold up better than that bloke.” He jokes with a bit of abandon, a low chuckle escaping his lips, as he starts to overthink himself. John suddenly feels like a dumb teenager, which is never a good sign, especially when there is someone he’s interested in right in front of him. Price feels like his laugh is too rough, stance is too relaxed and everything is just a bit too much when your eyes are on him. Oh, he’s so going to embarrass himself.

“True, but let’s not tell him that.” You give a quiet laugh and John’s worries die down a little. Not completely, but enough to let his eyes get glued to your face. “How are you feeling? Is there any abnormal pain, anything unusual or out of the ordinary?” Oh, so you’re the type to get straight to business, huh? Interesting. Price liked that. “If there’s anything wrong we’ll get you right to the hospital.” Price declined when he got asked about the hospital before by another paramedic because there was no way he was going to spend even more time out of his house because of some minor scratches. But if it meant you’ll be there, he’s calling dibs on the seat beside you in the ambulance truck, dear lord.

“My knee’s complaining a bit, love.” John can see your eyes going as big as two shiny coins when you hear that pet name, which, to be fair, slipped out completely unintentionally. However, by the way you instantly light up in another shy smile, he can tell you don’t really mind it, so his nervousness caused by this… “happy accident”, comes down again. “Some bruises, but I’m not about to hold you up because of those.”

“Oh, well, that’s alright, come with me and I can check you out…” You stutter over your words while talking a bit too quickly and once you understand what you said, an annoyed groan comes out of you. Way to embarrass yourself. “I mean, check your knee out in the ambulance, alright?” You again shoot him a smile. Which probably is in vain, since he’s a patient at the moment, and you’re at work, and that’s very much frowned upon, but what can you do? You don’t meet a man like that everywhere. He looks a bit rough around the edges, but that’s part of the charm.

“I’m sure your hands are already full with that hero of the day over there, I’m good.” What. The fuck. Are you doing. John. The only chance he gets to talk to you and he’s blowing it, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know why he said that. Maybe not to seem desperate in a very self-sabotaging way, but that’s just. Oh, John, you’re too old for playing some damn games with someone you like.

“You know what? I insist.” Your voice is lower and rougher. And when you top it off with another one of your sweet smiles and a gentle touch on his shoulder? John is a gone man. Turning into a much, a putty, if you will. God, for this perfect smile he was ready to smash and repair every single house appliance and pipe in your house.

“Alright then. Anything for you, love, lead the way.” And you did, with your hand resting softly on his back, helping him forward. John wished you would’ve been bolded with your touch, so he could feel more than just a light graze, but still. It felt good.

And then he finds himself in the back of the ambulance truck, this cramped, tiny space making him hold his breath from being so goddamn nervous in your presence. You told him to take a seat while rummaging through some cabinets and various medical bags for something. Seemingly not finding anything that you needed you spoke up to him again.

“Okay, now let me see your knee, sir.” You mumbled while kneeling in front of him, your eyes concentrated on the man. He didn’t mind you calling him sir at all. John was so used to being called that, but right now it just spread that very pleasant warm feeling inside of him.

“Well, I’m not taking my pants off. Not without a dinner first.” Price chuckled, as he tried rolling up one of his pants legs. And, well, his statement wasn’t that far from the truth. The whole deal with examination was a bit awkward to begin with, so he didn’t want to make it even worse.

“I’ll think about it, big guy.” You chuckle, as you finally start looking at his knee, small, feather-light touches sending sparks over Price’s skin. So, you enjoyed teasing him like that, huh? In combination with that nice, sweet smile? Oh, John is sold. He definitely should you invite somewhere while he still has time on his leave. But before he can open his mouth to make a brave offer you speak up again. “Looks like you have a minor sprain in here, your knee’s all swollen. I’ll apply some elastic bandages, that you’re going to have to wear for some time and redo yourself. But overall you seem to be doing good” Price couldn’t help but feel like that last remark wasn’t about his health.

“Yeah. Yeah. That’s all fine with me, love. Do what you have to.” You only nod in response, spending some time rummaging in the cupboards once again and emerging victorious with a roll of elastic bandages in your hands. You return to your previous position in front of John, and adjust his knee with a firm hand, mumbling a quiet “Hold still, please”. Oh, he’d freeze for centuries if you had asked him to. But he does, and as you wrap the bandage around his knee, which just kept pulsing with hot pain, he couldn’t help but admire you. The trained movements, the concentrated gaze, the warm touch…Maybe he really should act on his thoughts. Maybe it’s his chance. Maybe something can work out and this accidental meeting will become…something more.

Price wanted it to become something more.

His imagination ran rampant, picturing you wearing some nice and fancy, in case you do agree on a date. John totally should not be thinking this when you were right there, finally putting some finishing touches on his knee bandaging, so he forced them out of his mind and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. But before Price can even utter a single sound you’re already being called over by your colleague. Guess he’ll just have to wait until you’re free of your duties, huh?

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steddieasitgoes · 2 months

Text

written for @steddielovemonth Day 19 prompt: Love is helping them unwind after a rough day (@lihhelsing) and Love is the comfort of quiet moments (@tboygareth) Rating: G | wc: 718 | no cw Tags: established relationship, fluff, teacher!steve, rockstar!eddie

Steve knew when he started teaching that his job wasn’t always going to be easy. That for every breakthrough lesson he taught where every one of his students understood and had fun learning, there would be just as many days where he left as frustrated as the kids because the material just wasn’t clicking.

Today was one of those days.

No one was more excited when the dismissal bell rang than Steve. Usually, he’d stick around, grade a few papers, or mingle in the teacher’s lounge but today he packed up his bag just as fast as his kids and bolted to his car.

All he wanted to do was get home, unwind, and have a nice night with Eddie. Maybe make dinner and finally watch the movie Eddie rented a few days ago for them to watch before he got called in for a rewrite session at the studio.

Steve makes it no more than ten steps into the house before his sock-covered foot collides with something hard. At first, he thinks it’s their senior dog Joe — it wouldn’t be the first time he’s tripped over him — but as Steve tumbles to the floor, he realizes he’s tripped over Eddie.

His ass breaks the fall, colliding with the cold tile with a force that’s certain to leave a bruise — one Eddie is no doubt going to poke and prod at because he’s a gremlin, but that’s a problem for later. Right now, he needs to figure out why his boyfriend is currently sprawled out on the floor in the middle of their foyer.

“Rough day?”

Eddie’s response comes in the form of a groan, seemingly too tired to respond with his words. He kicks his legs out farther, starfishing on the floor before scrunching his eyes so tight Steve wants to knead the doughy flesh on his forehead.

“Yeah,” Steve sighs, “me too.”

“Floor time,” Eddie mumbles, patting the spot next to him.

The time it’s Steve who responds non-verbally, grumbling incoherent words as he lowers himself gently to the hard floor. He’s careful with his head, tucking one arm under to act as a cushion. The cold shocks him for all of two seconds before he feels himself sinking into the tile. The weight of today’s shitty day disappears as his body finally relaxes and the world fades into the background.

Steve doesn’t do this as often as Eddie does, but it’s nice. Really nice. They don’t listen to music or talk about their day. They don’t kiss or touch beyond an occasional hand squeeze. They simply lie there with their eyes closed and listen to the sound of their heartbeats.

He had joked once that what they were doing was a form of meditation, but Eddie had scoffed at that — not wanting to participate in the “latest conformist trend” that is yoga, so they call it floor time instead.

As Steve lays there, enjoying the feeling of the cold tile on his tense muscles, he can’t help but break the no-touching rule and reaches his hand out in search of Eddie’s. He finds it immediately, taking his ink-stained hands into his own. His fingers curl around Eddie’s ring-clad ones and he gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

“I love you,” he whispers, soft enough that Eddie might not hear him.

But he does.

Eddie always does.

“No talking during floor time,” Eddie quietly reprimands, before squeezing Steve’s hand back in return. A moment passes before, Eddie tilts his head to the side and opens one eye to look at Steve. “Love you too, baby.”

In a little while they’ll peel themselves off the floor and head into the kitchen to cook dinner. Steve will playfully swat Eddie’s hand away from the simmering pot of sauce and he’ll give him those big puppy dog eyes until he caves and lets him get a taste. And then they’ll sit across from each other at their small dining room table playing footsie while they each vent about the shitty days they’ve had before retiring to the bedroom where they’ll take turns taking each other apart.

But for now, it’s floor time.

#this is the softest thing i've ever written #steddielovemonth #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie fluff #steve harrington fic #eddie munson fic #steve fic #eddie fic #steve harrington fluff #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fluff #dani writes

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a-cyclepath · 5 months

Text

⚠️ MDNI ⚠️

Ino thirst post, rambling, superman on the streets, Lex Luthor in the sheets

Ino is a nasty, nasty ass Ino au x Reader

( spitting, slapping, rough sex, biting mentioned )

∆

Ino acting all wholesome and sweet with you around everyone when your out and around. He's smiling, peppering your face and shoulders with sweet soft boy kisses

"mn.mn...pretty!" He says between kissing your cheek lovingly.

"guys aren't they just beautiful?" He brags about you to everyone whenever you can.

Nanami is pretty sure with all the pictures of you Ino is always showing off he has a photographic memory of what you look like in his head.

He just loves showing you off. Any new pictures he takes with you or selfies you post online he's eagerly showing everyone he can. He even keeps a little wallet foldup set of the two of you the time you went to Canada's Wonderland

Ino isn't like this at all in private. He's nasty, a freak even.

He's spits on his hand and slaps it against your ass because he likes the wet nasty sound it makes when it collides with your skin.

He spits on your hole, nasty buildup, big huge suck in before he lets it plop on. Then he's sucking and eating your hole for breakfast lunch and dinner.

His favourite part of you is your ass, he loves watching it bounce and recoil from his curse smashing ground destroying thrusts

He's tugging on your hair from behind, forcing your head to arch back.

He's. Is. A. Biter. Your thighs never felt better during sex, but they could probably look better afterwards.

He's impatient. His wholesome personality will do a complete turn the moment he's got you alone in his car after work.

If thin enough, he's ripping a hole in your bottoms and railing you from behind.

He can't help it. It's not his fault your hole is addictive?

He loves that jiggle. That smacking. He replays that sound in his head over and over.

He loves your mouth. Playing with your tongue and cheeks with his fingers.

Dude might just have a spit kink.

But don't think he's just in it for himself.

He knows exactly how to push your buttons. Which corners inside of you to not kiss, but rail his tip or fingers against.

He grins whenever your orgasm, loving the idea that you're feeling good too.

All the love in the world can't stop his nasty mouth.

"haah baby. Look at the hole in these tights." He spreads your ass to get a look at your needy parts.

"damn. You're so perfect here. Hope it's sweaty."

"dry hole. Can't have that. Gotta spit all over it don't I?"

"scream louder. If The car rocking isn't hint enough for someone passing by I want them to hear you."

"shit look at all this sweat on you baby let me get a taste."

"you really did know what you were doing wearing these on this nice ass today didn't you?"

"damn look at all the spit you're coughing out when you take my dick."

"I can't believe you love eating dick."

"haven't showered in a while. You still wanna suck me off?"

"this tongue is pretty. Open up. Lemme you some extra saliva to drink."

"I wanna take pictures of you painted white like this. You think Nanami-Senpai would wanna see those too?"

"wonder if you can take this dildo and my dick in the same hole baby."

Honorable mention, you should eat this guy's ass.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #ino smut #jujutsu kaisen #mdni #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu smut #smut headcanons #ino jjk #jjksmut #jjk fanfic #x reader smut #ino x reader

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mncxbe · 7 months

Text

What looking in their eyes feels like♡

𝒇𝒕. 𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂, 𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂

°☆○

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

like a hot summer afternoon, peaches ripe in trees and cicadas choiring in the tall grass.

Legs draped over the sides of your wooden chair, you rose your gaze from the book you were reading to take in the image of your boyfriend.

Dazai rose a pearly white cup of coffee to his lips and sipped the chocolate coloured liquid. A little bit of foam lingered at the corner of his mouth and you reached your thumb to wipe it.

Dazai flinched at the sudden touch, giggling lightly. His brown eyes flaked with specs of gold glimmered in the soft evening light. Beautiful, breathtaking.

For someone who wished so strongly to die, he surely seemed to bear the nectar of the Gods, the essence of life right behind his eyelids, pooling in his irises.

"You want a sip?" he asked, handing you the cup and you took it.

After taking a big sip you placed the drink on the little glass table next to you.

Dazai's eyes were still on you, warm, happy, serene. His hand slid up your bare leg, gently caressing your skin.

"My sweet bella..." he hummed, words that you knew were an unspoken "I love you"; and you gave his fingers a squeeze before returning to your book.

In the background, the August sun sank into the city; bright and vibrant like your boyfriend's eyes.

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂

like galaxies colliding, lonely starts somewhere in the depths of the universe.

As you laid among the cold sheets, limbs entangled with your lover's, you caught a glimpse of the lamplight that filtered through the windows in his eyes. During the day, his eyes seemed lifeless, a cold, dark grey of stormclouds; but at night they shone bright like diamonds.

And all for you.

You lazily traced your fingertips along his cheekbone, causing him to raise a brow in confusion.

"Nothing. I was just looking at your eyes. they're pretty" you said in silvery voice, digits intertwining with his atop the cotton pillow case.

"How so?" he asked, so innocently, a tone reserved only for you during these intimate moments.

You took a moment to breathe in, the aroma of your mixed scents bubbling up inside your lungs.

"They're like the North Star. When I look into your eyes I know I'm home." you smiled.

Akutagawa only sighed in response, pressing his lips to your temple.

"You're my home too, darling" he mumbled against your hair before closing his eyes, drifting into a sweet slumber.

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒄𝒉𝒊

like a land of a thousand fires, crying lightning and gold.

Facades. Masks put on to suit his status as the captain of the Hunting Dogs and one of the world's most fierce soldiers. Cold gaze, sharp like a knife and bearing such intensity that any man could crumble; at almost any time of the day.

But as soon as he entered your home, a sanctuary where you waited for him, all rage and iciness melted away from his gaze.

You could see the change, his stern expression slowly shifting to something warm and kind as you beckoned him to join you on the couch.

"How was work?"

"Tiring. I sure hope you had a better day than mine" he said in a spent tone, taking a seat next to you.

"It was indeed" you added and he smiled so gently that for a moment you forgot all sins of his past.

Sighing, your partner leaned against your chest. His eyes seemed glazed, distant, puddles of amber swirling with worry as he fixated a spot on the wall.

Taking notice of his tense state you combed your fingers through his hair, shushing him.

"You ought to stop worrying so much you know. You'll get wrinkles" you said playfully, earning a smile from him.

"I think it's a bit too late for that, don't you think?"

Still, when your gazes met it was so vivid and tender; citrine coloured irises sparkling with love and hope for better days.

𝑭𝒖𝒌𝒖𝒛𝒂𝒘𝒂

like looking at a crystal lake during winter, a thin layer of ice on top

Thin coils of milky vapour rose from the cups of tea before you, placed on round plates on the table.

On the other side of the desk, your partner stood motionless, gazing through the window of his office. No matter how busy his schedule was he always made time for your little afternoon tea, a scared ritual of yours that you'd been indulging in since the beginning of your relationship.

As you took in his features you couldn't help but notice how his eyes mirrored the sky outside; metallic blue, longing.

Fukuzawa's gaze then slid to you, fingers wrapping around the brim of his cup as he sipped the sweet liquid inside. Even after years of being with him, a cold shiver ran down your spin whenever your gazes met during such moments.

It was somehow like an ice burn, but it was a feeling you adored. The look in his eyes however didn't lack tenderness as he reached over the table and held your hand, affectionately running his thumb over your soft skin.

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd fluff #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd headcanons #dazai bsd #fukuzawa x reader #bsd fukuzawa #bsd akutagawa #akutagawa x reader #bungo stray dogs akutagawa #president fukuzawa #fukuchi bsd #ochi fukuchi #bsd fukuchi

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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Text

strawberry wine - joel miller x fem!reader

during - part seven

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

tommy takes care of joel as best he can, and you try and make a break for it.

a/n: y’all I am having way too much fun writing this story. part 7 earlier than planned, and tbh I’ll probably post part 8 tomorrow if I can. the inspo is REAL and thank you all for the comments and reblogs and messages and general love and support - you have no idea how happy it makes me!! 🤍

word count: 4.6k

warnings: MY BLOG IS 18+, MINORS DNI, angst, canon-typical violence and injuries, death, blood, near-death experiences, questionable decisions on the military’s part

✨follow @friskito-library for updates on new works/chapters!✨

Tommy watches his brother fall apart.

It’s one thing after another, and he can’t blame Joel. The world’s ending; everything else is falling apart, it only makes sense that he would too. But still, it hurts. Watching his big brother — the only constant in his life for as long as he can remember — break down, it makes Tommy hurt in a way he can’t fully comprehend. It’s not fair.

He thinks about the soldier, in the days that follow. He’d come up the ridge just as the gunfire sounded, already looking for his brother and niece, never expecting to find them the way that he did. Joel was pleading, already hurt, his hands in the air, as good a white flag as any, and the soldier just didn’t care. It went against everything in Tommy, but when the soldier lifted the gun again, Tommy fired first.

But then…Sarah.

There was so much blood. He should be used to it, being who he is, seeing what he’s seen. But it’s different, it feels different, it sits in the back of his mind and haunts his every step. She was so young. So bright, so good. And then just, gone.

“Tommy, help me!”

He’d never heard Joel like that, so desperate, so lost. The only moment that rivalled it was when they’d been in the truck, Tommy driving, Joel with his cell phone pressed to his ear. Talking to you, asking where you were, if you were safe.

“It’s everywhere,” Joel had said, and Tommy had felt a distinct feeling of helplessness wash through him. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t just in Austin. He focused on the road, tried not to look too closely at the chaos in the distance. Shit was hitting the fan, in every sense.

He tightened his grip on the wheel as Joel continued talking to you. You were hurt, Joel telling you to patch yourself up. “I’m not hanging up until you do.”

Tommy could hear the ache in his brother’s voice. Joel had never let you go, not completely, and Tommy knew it. He didn’t blame Joel for it; having you around was the happiest he’d seen his brother in a long time. He liked you, too, liked your laugh and your sense of humour, the way you looked at Joel like you were seeing him for the first time, every time.

He had to swerve the truck as another car barrelled down the road in the opposite direction. Joel grabbed for the dashboard, phone still glued to his ear. “I’m gonna find you, you hear me? Just get out of Boston and I swear to you, I’m gonna find you!” A pause, and Joel stared at the phone. Tommy could see his brother’s hands shaking. “It’s dead.”

A moment later, the radio — which had been spewing news reports since Joel had picked Tommy up — went silent. Joel tossed his phone onto the truck floor, slammed his fist into the dash a moment later.

“Fuck!”

“She okay?” Tommy asked, and Joel scrubbed a hand over his face. “Joel?”

“Boyfriend attacked her,” Joel grumbled, rubbing his forehead again. “Tried to fuckin’ bite her. She said he’s dead.”

Tommy had balked. “She did that?”

“Dunno,” Joel had replied, and huffed a humourless laugh, the noise almost flat. “Is it fucked up if I say I hope she did?”

Tommy had pressed the gas a little harder, the truck speeding down the road. “Everything’s fucked up, seems like.” Silence hung over them only for a moment, punctuated a moment later by the loud whoosh of flames as a car down the road collided with a telephone pole. Joel cursed under his breath, Tommy kept on driving. “What are we gonna do, Joel?”

“We get Sarah, and we go,” his brother replied, and despite the waver in his voice, he sounded sure. Surer than Tommy felt. “East.”

East, Tommy thought. Boston. You. Like he’d expected anything different. “You really think you can find her?”

“I can sure as hell try.”

The conversation feels like a year ago, instead of the handful of days it has been. Maybe a week; he’s starting to lose track, already. They’ve been holed up for a few hours now, tucked in the garage of an abandoned house. They crossed the state line a few hours back, and so far, Arkansas looks the same as Texas: fucking ravaged. Joel sits on the floor, knees up to his chest, face buried in his arms. Tommy feels antsy.

“I’m gonna go look inside, see if there’s anything worth taking. You good?”

“Yeah.”

Seems like every neighbourhood they come across has been evacuated, the houses all empty. They have guns; he already had his own, and he’d swiped the rifle from the soldier that had attacked Joel and Sarah. Though he was quick to give Joel his, take the soldier’s for himself. Something about Joel touching the weapon that had killed Sarah made Tommy’s gut twist. He didn’t like it either, but it was out of necessity.

The house has obviously been picked through, toppled furniture and broken glass as far as he can tell, but they get lucky: a first aid kit, a mostly full bottle of whiskey, and some cans of beans. Tommy grabs it all, heads up the stairs. Clearly an older couple, but there’s a few men’s jackets in one of the closets, a pair of work boots, plain t-shirts. He takes the lot, offering the boots to Joel when he gets back to the garage. “These your size?”

His brother takes the boots with a flat expression, pulling the laces to peer at the sole. “About there, yeah. Don’t need ‘em though.”

“Take ‘em with us, for when you do,” Tommy counters, offering Joel one of the t-shirts next. “You should change.”

“M’fine.”

Tommy hooks the gun over his head, setting it on the ground beside him as he crouches in front of Joel. “You’re covered in blood,” he says, and his brother snatches the t-shirt. “Need to change your bandage, too.”

“And what exactly do you want me to—” Joel starts, but shuts up when Tommy tosses the first aid kit to him.

“Need help?” he asks as Joel gets to his feet, pulls his stained t-shirt off, tosses it aside. They’d found a half empty kit in a cafe back in Austin, dressed Joel’s wound before they took off completely. Joel was lucky, just a graze, but Tommy knows it must hurt like hell, and it’ll leave a scar, a reminder of that night, of what was lost.

Joel winces as he pulls of the old bandage, tossing it in the same direction as the t-shirt. “Don’t suppose you found any water in there?” He digs through the first aid kit. “No antiseptic.”

“No water,” Tommy confirms, but holds up the bottle of whiskey. “Just this.”

It’s not ideal, using the alcohol to clean the graze — and Joel nearly puts his fist through the wall despite the healthy sip he takes before Tommy wipes a piece of gauze damp with the whiskey over the wound — but it’ll work. They have to make do.

Joel sinks back onto the concrete floor once the wound is redressed, the new t-shirt pulled over his head. He takes the whiskey with him, and Tommy sits beside his brother, both of them with rifles in their laps. They sip the bottle in turn, and Tommy savours the burn as it slides down his throat, warmth spreading through his chest. It loosens his tongue, makes him regret the question the second it’s out of his mouth.

“You think she made it?” He knows he doesn’t have to call you by name. Not now.

“I have to,” is his brother’s only response.

They stop you at the gate.

You don’t know what you’re thinking, but after staking out the giant metal fence for a few hours, you at least know that trying to sneak over is only going to result in a bullet finding a home somewhere it shouldn’t. The soldiers were firing at anything that made a break for the gate, and running full-force didn’t make you brave, it made you stupid. It made you look like one of them. Infected. Mindless. Blood-thirsty. A few have come sprinting up to the post you’ve been watching, and the soldiers have put them down without batting an eye.

As you’ve watched, a few groups of people have approached the post. All the same, their hands in the air, desperation in their voices, carried to you on the smoke-tinged breeze. Please help us. You’ve watched them get directed away from the post, towards a still-standing building a few yards from the gate, where a military-issue tent is set up. Some of them walk back out, are directed towards an armoured truck parked along the gate, and then the truck disappears, only for a new one to reappear in its stead a few minutes later. It’s like clockwork, but only some end up in the trucks.

Others are carried out the back of the tent, bodies dumped into one of the pits left by the bombing. It makes your skin crawl.

It takes a while, lacking the confidence to put yourself in the line of fire when you could just keep hiding in the city. The soldiers might find you eventually — if the Infected didn’t find you first — but if you could just keep going, maybe there was a break in the fence somewhere, a way out besides what lies ahead of you. But finally, after a few hours of squatting in the rubble, your limbs aching from staying pressed against brick, you step out of the alley, and put your hands in the air. You’ve pulled down the sleeves of the hoodie you’re wearing, letting it cover the bandage around your arm, and you grip the cuffs with your fingers as you raise your arms.

“I’m not infected!”

A flash of movement, and the barrels of at least ten rifles are pointed directly at you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up, bile rising in the back of your throat. A suitable reaction, you think, and you swallow back the fear that makes you want to run. It’ll only get you killed that much faster.

“Name!” one of the soldier’s shouts. You can’t tell who; they’re all wearing helmets, visors covering their faces, turning it into a sea of darkness staring back at you. Your fingers flex, and you call you name back.

“I need to leave.”

One of them starts laughing. Another two look at each other, sharing a look you can’t suss out. A few lower their guns, and the prickle along your spine fizzles slightly. A visor lifts, revealing a soot-streaked face, a grim expression. “Why on earth would you wanna do that?”

“My family is in Texas,” you say, your voice surprisingly strong, if not a little thready from the smoke. “I have to go find them.”

“You’re gonna walk halfway across the country,” a faceless voice asks, “with a baseball bat? Girl, you don’t have a hope in hell.”

“Beats sitting around here, waiting to die,” you throw back, and the soldier that had lifted his visor lifts his brow. “Let me pass.”

“Can’t do that,” he replies, and steps up in front of you. He’s got a strange face, eyes a little too dark, hair hidden by the helmet, a scar on his mouth. Something about him reminds you of Dean, but a much harder version, his face more angular, the voice slightly deeper. “No one gets out of the city, we have orders.”

“You can’t hold me hostage here,” you start, stepping towards him. Your hands are still in the air. “My family is out there, I need to—”

“No one gets out,” another soldier interrupts. “FEDRA’s orders.”

Your brow creases. “FEDRA?”

“Federal Disaster Response Agency,” the strange-faced soldier answers.

“So the military is taking over?”

“I never said that.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “Just let me go, please? I can’t stay here, my family—”

“Is in Texas,” the soldier replies, nodding along. He hefts his gun slightly, adjusting his grip, and you don’t miss the meaning, the silent threat behind it. “And you’re here, in Boston. Now you don’t have a car, or any real weapons, and we have orders. You’re not going anywhere.”

You bite back the protest that crawls up your throat. If you’re getting out, it’s not through here. “Then where am I supposed to go?”

“There’s a shelter,” he tells you, “in the mall. There’s food, water, beds. It’s temporary, but it’s safe.”

“Temporary, like the gate?”

He gives you a long look, then gestures towards the tent you’ve been watching them shuffle people through. “Let’s get you checked out, and then we’ll get you there.”

You match his stare, setting your jaw, digging your heels in slightly. The muzzle of his rifle dips just slightly, and his eyes pinch, narrowing at you.

“I’ll only ask nicely once.”

Heart in your throat, you drop your hands, and when he gestures towards the tent again, you go. Every single part of you is shaking as you head for the canvas structure, and once you’re inside, it’s no different. It’s shockingly clean, a metal table in the middle, a smaller one to the side. “Put your bag there,” the soldier orders, that familiar stern military tone, pointing to the bigger table. “The bat, too.”

You do as you’re told, seeing from the corner of your eye that he’s still got both hands on his gun. “I’m keeping the bat,” you say over your shoulder, pulling it out from where you’d slid it between the straps of the bag, resting against your lower back. The metal rings when you set it on the table. “For the record.”

“Never said you couldn’t keep it, did I?”

“You want me to go to that shelter in the mall,” you say, sliding the bag off your shoulders, placing it next to the bat, and then turning back to the soldier, “with every other terrified person in this city, and you expect me to believe you’re gonna let me walk in with a weapon?”

The soldier’s jaw goes tight, eyes even tighter. “Strip.”

“Excuse me?”

“Take your clothes off,” he says, clearly getting exasperated. “I might let you keep the bat, but there’s no way I’m letting you into the mall shelter knowing you’ve been bitten. Strip.”

“Bitten?” you repeat, your mind sparking at the new information. “Is that how this is spreading?” To appease him, hoping he’ll give you a bit more information, you pull the hoodie off, disentangling your arms slowly. “That’s what’s turning people into those—”

The hoodie comes off, revealing your bandaged shoulder and forearm, and the gun is pointed back in your face again, a soft click reaching your ears. “You’re injured.”

“Y’know, I usually like to at least know a guy’s name before he sees me half-naked.”

He ignores you. “You’re injured.”

You heave a breath, tucking the edge of the gauze around your arm back into place. “You dropped bombs on this city. I dare you to find someone out there who isn’t injured.”

The soldier just stares at you. You just stare back.

“Take the bandages off,” he orders, and your hands curl into fists. “I need to see.”

“Tell me your name first,” you counter, still holding his gaze.

“This isn’t a negotiation.”

“I’m aware; you’re the one holding the gun. But I also know you’ve been taking bodies out of this tent more than you’ve been sending people to the shelter. So, again, tell me your name.”

He leans back slightly, takes a deep breath, eyes darting to the side before meeting yours again. “Corporal Nicholas Cowan, ma’am.”

“Ma’am?” you repeat, almost laughing. “That’s a bit much, but—”

“The bandages.”

“Okay, okay.”

Carefully, you peel back the gauze on your shoulder. It wasn’t deep enough to need stitches or anything, and you’d slathered it with some kind of ointment in the first aid kit. It still looks pretty awful, and the tape along the edge of the bandage has left little indents in your skin, but it’s definitely healing. Your arm is next, that wound fresher, and it starts to bleed as soon as you pull the gauze away. Cowan gives you a new piece of gauze a moment later, tossing it onto the table between you rather than handing it right to you. “What happened?”

“I was in the bookstore, down on South Street, when you all decided to start dropping bombs. Fucking lucky a bookshelf didn’t fall on my head.”

He still has the gun pointed at you, though the grip is slightly more relaxed, and he circles you slowly, eyes glued to your shoulder. “Those look like claw marks.”

“That’s because they are.”

“So that happened before the bombs.”

“It did.”

“I’m supposed to shoot, the moment I see anything like that. I have orders.”

“It’s not a bite.”

“I know that.” He swallows so hard you can see his throat bob. “They haven’t figured it all out. The bite seems to make it happen faster, but I don’t know if—”

“I’ll tell you what, Corporal,” you interrupt, reaching for your bag, pulling the first aid kit out and fishing out new bandages, “I start to turn into one of those things, and I give you my full permission to blow my fucking brains out.” Cowan balks, his eyes widening for a moment as he stares back at you. “But for the record, it’s been seven days, and I’m still here, faculties intact. So, politely, go fuck yourself, and just let me through the gate.”

He doesn’t.

Cowan lets you redress, once your bandages have been hastily rewrapped; you’d protested and he told you they’d give you proper treatment at the shelter. Once that was done, you grabbed your pack — and the bat, which Cowan barely seemed to notice — and he grabbed you roughly by the arm, dragging you out of the tent and steering you towards one of the armoured trucks parked at the fence.

You’re all but stuffed inside, and Cowan gets into the passenger’s seat, a masked soldier behind the wheel. “The mall,” he says simply, and the soldier just nods, and the engine rumbles to life, pulling away from the chain link and heading back into the city.

You keep the bat in your lap as they drive, your eyes glued to the window, to the mess that now only partially resembles Boston. You’d seen enough of the destruction running through the streets, but the truck takes a few pathways you hadn’t. Some roads aren’t as destroyed, obviously not targeted by the bombs, and the asphalt is even, still intact. There’s no getting past the bodies, however, and that pulls your eyes away, staring down at your bruised and dirty hands, wrapped around the bat.

When the truck stops outside the mall, the driver doesn’t get out. You lift your head then, taking in the space around you. It’s more of the same, but the mall looks mostly undisturbed, except for the broken windows, the burned displays. Cowan slides out of the passenger’s side, pulls open your door a moment later. “Let’s go.”

There are three more soldiers standing at the entrance, and as Cowan starts to lead you through, one of them stops you, lifting a hand. “You can’t take that in there,” the soldier says, pointing to the bat. “Give it here.”

“No.”

Cowan sighs, turning back to you, waving off the soldier. “C’mon, just—”

“No,” you say again, your voice harder. “You’re out of your fucking mind if you think I’m walking around this city without it.”

“You’re safe in the mall,” Cowan says, nearly rolling his eyes at you, but you just lift a brow. “It’s a shelter, and we’re patrolling from the outside.” He points over his shoulder, and sure enough, you see a few more armoured trucks rolling across the street, armed soldiers trailing behind it. Like it makes a difference.

You almost laugh. “Nowhere is safe anymore.” You tighten your grip on the bat. “You really think your chain link fence is gonna save us from those things?”

He gives you another one of those hard stares, but relents, waving off the other soldiers and grabbing the handle on your bag, all but dragging you through the entrance. “If she attacks someone, it’s on you, Cowan!” one of the soldier’s shouts, and he just grumbles under his breath.

“Do me a favour,” he says to you as he releases you, making you stumble a step before he falls into step beside you, “don’t be more trouble than you’re worth.”

“And what am I worth, Corporal?”

“You’re alive, and you’re not one of them,” he says, and you don’t miss the thread of…is that hope, in his voice? “So that makes you worth something.”

He’s quiet, the rest of the way. There’s no electricity, the overhead fluorescents dark, and Cowan clicks on a flashlight, lighting your path deeper into the mall. There’s the whir of generators, as you get closer, big lights that looks like they were taken from construction sites. You see the food court has been turned into a makeshift hospital, and Cowan tells you the big department store on the main level is where you’ll sleep, for the time being.

There aren’t that many people, which makes your throat go a little thick. How many people have died, how many have turned, how many made it out of Boston before they put up the fence?

Cowan takes your arm again as you walk towards the food court, calling for someone as you get closer. “Deanna! I got one for you.”

An older lady, maybe late fifties, pokes her head out from behind one of the triage curtains. Her face is both kind and harsh at the same time, bright green eyes, grey-streaked hair pulled into a long ponytail, blood-stained scrubs and a tool belt around her waist that’s filled with medical instruments instead of actual tools. It almost makes you laugh.

“Must be special,” she says, her voice a little gravelly as she approaches you, wiping her hands on her pants. “You don’t usually escort them all the way down here, Nicky.” Her eyes drop to the bat in your hands and her brows raise. “Or let them come in armed.”

Once she’s close enough, Cowan releases you and takes Deanna by the arm, steering her off to the side. You stand there awkwardly, the bat banging against your leg. Your forearm is a little sore, and you’re half-sure it’s soaked through the bandages you’d haphazardly retied after Cowan’s inspection. You glance over at the pair a few times, seeing them both shooting you looks before turning back to each other. Deanna looks confused, then upset, then almost forgiving. You can’t quite figure out Cowan’s expression.

After a few minutes, she just nods, and Cowan turns on his heel, heading back in the direction you came, leaving you alone. Deanna gives you a once-over as she walks towards you again, putting a warm hand on your back and starting to steer you towards one of the curtains. “Let’s get you cleaned up, honey.”

She leads you behind one of the curtains, then another, and once you’re in the little makeshift room, she pulls another curtain into place. “Nicky said we need to be quick about this,” she says, leaning up on her toes to peer over the curtains, assumedly to see if anyone is coming. “And quiet.”

“Okay.”

You let her take your bag, set it on the chair that’s set to the side. You’re reluctant to let go of the bat, but when you finally let her take it, she puts it beside you on the cot. “You’ve been out there this whole time?” she asks, her voice just above a whisper. You nod. “Even the bombs?” Another nod. “Show me where you’re hurt.”

You hold your breath as you peel off the hoodie. You were right, your arm has bled through the bandage, and your shoulder aches with the movement. Deanna doesn’t say a word at first, her brow furrowed as she looks you over.

She tends to your arm first, wiping the blood from your skin, using some sort of glue to close the wound before she wraps it in fresh gauze. She circles you slowly, just like Cowan had, and you hear her sharp inhale when she sees your shoulder. “What have we here?” She wipes at more of the blood, and the sting makes you tense, your hand twitching towards the bat at your side. “What did that?”

“…boyfriend.”

You look over your shoulder to see her staring at you, a look that toes the line between sympathy and fear on her face. “Was he…”

You give a slight nod. “He was.”

“And is he…?”

“Not anymore.”

Her brows raise. “You did that?”

Another nod. “I did that.”

She blows out a breath, shaking her head side to side. “Damn, girl. Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

It’s the first time you’ve actually laughed since your birthday.

They give you some clothes, stuff that actually fits, pilfered from one of the stores. Toiletries even, and you spend far too much time brushing your teeth. No showers, unfortunately, but the pack of baby wipes you’re offered instead makes up for it. It nearly makes you cry to see your skin clean of the dust and ash and blood.

They give you food, too. A grocery bag filled with non-perishables, more granola bars and cans of soup and whatnot. You try not to chug an entire bottle of water when they give you a second bag filled with drinks; not just water, but sports drinks, random cans of pop, clearly raided from the mall vending machines. And a hot meal, courtesy of one of the food court hot plates. It’s some kind of stew, noodles and meat and veggies, and for a moment, all you can think about is the Thai food that was waiting on your kitchen counter.

Feels like a lifetime ago.

Deanna walks you to the department store, gives your name to one of the soldier’s standing guard. He points you in the right direction, and she goes with you, a steady hand on your back, until you find the cot you’ve been assigned, tucked in the corner of the section where all the towels would have been, the displays still up on the walls. “We took them all already,” she tells you, giving you a half-grin as she picks up the blanket on your cot, unfolding the fabric. “Those extra-plush suckers make great bandages.”

You’re quiet, tucking your bag and your food and clothing under the cot. They’d refilled your first aid kit, too. Your knees are almost shaking as you lower yourself onto the edge of the bed, and the relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming. Tears spring in your eyes, but you don’t have the energy to wipe them away.

“Get some sleep, honey,” she tells you, and puts a soft hand on your shoulder as you slip sideways, collapsing onto the pillow. “You’ll be safe. Sleep as much as you need.”

She pulls the blankets over you, and it’s silly, but you clutch the bat to your chest. You’d wiped it down, too, cleaned the blood and dirt from the metal. Sleep takes hold as soon as you let your eyes close, and you pray no nightmares follow.

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #comment reply #kay talks to people

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canonicallyobserving911 · 3 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Season 7 FANON Speculation: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 21 available on AO3 and Chapter 22 will be posted soon.

Currently 21 chapters completed: 797.4K Words; Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

[Previous snippet from Several Sentences Sunday]

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I'm excited to finish writing Chapter 22 because there's less than one day remaining until Buck and Eddie get married.

For anyone who hasn't read Chapter 21, here's a brief overview: Buck and Eddie finalized everything before they left on Friday, December 15th. On December 10th, Buck agreed to meet with his biological father and the three of them will be present at the restaurant Edward selected. Buck still doesn't know Chris is going to ask him to adopt him on Christmas morning and neither Buck nor Chris knows anything about the gift Eddie bought to commemorate the special moment. Also, Eddie's planning several big surprises for Buck on their wedding day and for a week later when they arrive in London but Eddie doesn't know Chris and Buck are planning a surprise for him too. The three of them are speaking Italian more frequently and finally, Maddie, the 118 and Athena are still planning to throw them an engagement party because they don't know they're getting married which means New Year's Eve at Maddie's and Chimney's is going to be interesting 😉.

Buck and Eddie will tie the knot before Christmas 2023 but they are NOT getting married in the U.S. and they won't have a wedding ceremony until May 2024. They've revealed their relationship, their engagement and the fact that they're going to Europe to their found family during the 118's Thanksgiving dinner (Chapter 17), to Eddie's parents, his sisters, his abuela and Tia Pepa (Chapter 18) and Buck told the Buckley parents he's getting married and that he has a son (Chapter 19). Only three people know they're getting married and they are Chris, Carla and Malone. They told Carla and Malone (Chapter 19) because they asked them to be their witnesses at the Italian Consulate and they told Chris (Chapter 20) that evening after they got the "Atto Notorio" (Declaration) signed but no one else knows. In Chapter 21, Buck, Eddie and Chris arrived in Rome, Italy and they're preparing for the big day.

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Here's another romantically fluffy snippet from Chapter 22 of Eddie and Buck having a conversation while they're in their bedroom inside of their villa in Roma, Italia.

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It’s dark o’clock outside and they both know they should be sleeping but they’re awake and lying in bed simply gazing into each other’s eyes. Their arms are wrapped around the other one’s waist, their legs are tangled together underneath the covers and even though their heads are lying on their own pillows, their faces are only millimeters apart.

After a few seconds of looking into those honey brown eyes he loves so much, Buck unwraps one of his arms from around Eddie’s waist, he lightly taps the bridge of his nose, smiles then says, “Piccola… you’re supposed to be sleeping.”

He chuckles and responds, “Amore mio, so are you”.

They laugh and after their laughter subsides, Buck’s smile brightens and he replies, “I’m too excited to sleep”.

“Me too.”

They stay there in the moment and allow the weight of their admissions to surround them.

Without breaking eye contact, Eddie unwraps one of his arms, he lifts his hand and lightly rubs his thumb over Buck’s bottom lip.

The response is immediate because Buck’s entire body shivers at the touch. He’s not cold by any means because he set the thermostat and he knows the temperature inside of the villa is a balmy 75 degrees. It’s Eddie’s touch that does it and he knows there’s no one else in this world that can make him feel the way Eddie can.

The feeling of his arms being around him, the taste of his lips being pressed against his, the roll of his tongue when they’re French kissing along with every other touch of his is now memorized and it’s indubitably imprinted on his brain.

Eddie Diaz is the love of his life; he always has been and he always will be. They’re in love with each other and they're soulmates who share a love of their lives type of love that transcends both space and time.

They’ve been sharing emotional intimacy for more than six years; they’ve been sharing romantic intimacy for the past 3 months and 15 days but in a few hours, they’re going to experience physical intimacy for the first time on their wedding night and he’s been counting the number of days they had left for weeks. Now he’s counting the hours and pretty soon he’ll be counting the minutes until he says, “I do” and becomes Mr. Evan Diaz.

Eddie noticed when his fiancé shivered, so he repeats the action and the response is instant. When Buck shivers, he watches as his ocean blue eyes darken like he’s ready to be devoured and he knows in a little more than 19 hours, he’s going to give him everything he wants and needs.

Buck whispers, “Eddie... in exactly 12 hours, we’re getting married”.

“We are and guess what?”

Buck dreamily looks at his fiancé and whisper asks, “What?”

“I can’t wait for us to be husba...”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because Buck closes the millimeters of space between them and kisses him with so much passion it causes them to tighten their arms around the other one. It’s a long deep and slow kiss that’s filled with promises of everything that’s going to happen between them in a matter of hours.

They get lost in it and while they continue to lick and pant into each other’s mouths, Buck does the same thing he’s been doing for the last couple of weeks, he repositions them so Eddie’s on top of him. Once he’s covering his whole body, he opens his legs and bends his knees but this time he also wraps his legs around Eddie’s waist and pushes his hips up to let him know how much he wants him.

He breaks the kiss then talks against his lips and exclaims with a whisper, “Fai l’amore con me!” [“I want you to make love to me”].

What's going to happen next? Will they give in and make love now or are they going to wait until after their ceremony? 👀🤷🏽‍♀️

___________

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it. But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

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Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago. They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial. But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories. Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie. It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - Will be posted soon.

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Read chapters 1-21 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #christopher diaz #the buckley diaz family #buckley diaz family #The Diaz Family #WIP Wednesday #buddie wip #Fanonwriter2023 on AO3 #Hiatus Reading #911 on abc #911 abc #buddie fanfic #ao3 fanfic #911 fanfic #“I'm still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”#Chapter 21 will be posted soon.

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oneshotnewbie · 3 months

Note

Alex ,Kara and B!D get into a car accident and B!D is the one that gets most severely injured

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of an car accident, injuries and blood. Those plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The sky was tinged with a soft pink as Alex, Kara, and you headed off to spend a weekend with your mother in Midvale. The narrow streets were busy and flooded with the setting sun, but the anticipation of spending time together and the fresh breeze that carried the scent of flowering grass and trees outweighed any hectic pace.

Alex, a cheerful DEO agent with bright eyes, drove J'onn's borrowed car with a big smile on her face as she tapped the steering wheel to the beat of a song. The music on the radio created a pleasant and happy atmosphere as Kara kept lifting her head to look at the passing landscape. You, the adventurer of the sibling group, looked out the window and couldn't wait to see the familiar streets of Midvale again.

"I'm so excited to see Mom again. It's been far too long." With a wide grin curving your lips, you counted the kilometers that were still away from your old home, the memories of your childhood flooding you. The suburban streets, the shops and the park - everything felt so familiar. The blonde giggled in her seat, looking at Alex for a brief moment before turning back to face you. "Yes, it's going to be a nice weekend. I can already taste Eliza's famous lasagna."

Alex continued to focus on the busy streets, wanting to get you safely to your destination while you continued to relive stories you had experienced together with Kara. "There's the playground where you used to take me to play, Al!" You remarked, your mind immediately flashing back to the time you scraped your knee jumping off the swing. The scars were still visible on them. "And over there is the ice cream parlor we always stopped at after school!"

Kara nodded meekly, the past of the beginning of her new life on earth flashing past in her mind's eye. "There's something magical about Midvale. Like a trip back in time - and I love it." She spoke in a whisper and a silence dominated the car, apart for the soft melody in the background.

The roads passed small towns, many green fields and picturesque landscapes. You three siblings exchanged stories, laughed and enjoyed the ride. The anticipation of the weekend back in your past was literally palpable while the annoyances passed easily.

But suddenly and unexpectedly, a loud honk ripped through the air, followed by the squeak of the wheels and a deafening crash. Your car skidded before going down an embankment and colliding with a tree that saved you from a high drop.

The world seemed to move in slow motion for a moment as Kara tried, with shaking hands, to free herself from the wrecked, upside-down car. The air was filled with the sweet smell of gasoline and smoke as Alex, her eyes wide and her hands clenched on the steering wheel, still not quite over the shock of the accident, tried to orient herself. "Are you all good?“

The redhead tried to answer in a daze, not understanding what had just happened. "I-I think so. Y/n? Kiddo, how are you?"

But when there was no answer to her question, nor did she hear any noise, she turned around. Kara was finally out of the car and walked around to check on you. The sight in the back seat was shocking. You lay lifeless, thrown against the door by the impact. The distraught face, pale and marked with traces of blood, triggered a wave of panic in both of them.

"Y/n? Y/n, please, say something!" The blonde spoke fearfully, reaching her hand through the broken back window to grab your leg. She shook it, pulling on your pant leg as hard as she could, but you didn't move. "We have to get help. Quick, where is my cell phone?"

Alex looked around the wreckage, finally unbuckled from her seatbelt. She crawled around in the front cabin of the car, spread her hands in the shattered glass pieces and frantically searched the interior before she got to Kara's phone, which luckily remained intact.

She skillfully threw the cell phone out of the open passenger door into the hands of the blonde, who immediately called 911 while the redhead fought her way through the smoke and debris to get to you and stabilize you. Every step felt like an obstacle course in a nightmare. "Sweetheart, please wake up! Please!"

Meanwhile, Kara had notified all rescue workers and helped open the door to help her eldest sister rescue you from the wreckage as carefully as possible. The sight of your lifeless form in Kara's arms was heartbreaking. The minutes began to feel like hours.

"You can't give up, y/n. We can do this. You have to hold on," the blonde sobbed, clutching your blood-stained jacket tightly in her hands. She tried to stay calm as she had your head lying on her lap, gently stroking your dull hair.

The ambulance approached, sirens blaring, cutting through the tense silence of the scene. When the paramedics arrived, they immediately began life-saving measures and pushed your siblings aside. Carefully, you were placed on a stretcher and taken away immediately. "We have to take her to the hospital immediately. It doesn't look good," the paramedic spoke, the injuries were serious and the atmosphere was filled with tension and worry. "Do you need an ambulance? Are you in any pain?"

They both shook their heads abjectly, the helplessness palpable in their eyes, as the ambulance sped away, accompanied by the blue lights reflected in the tears on both siblings' faces.

The two called their mother and told her in brief detail what had happened. The two were immediately picked up from the side of the road and followed the ambulance in a state of uncertainty. The journey was filled with silence, only broken by the critical state of you.

In the hospital, time once again felt unhinged and stretching. You were asked to wait outside while the doctors did everything they could to stabilize you. The wait in the emergency room was accompanied by anxious thoughts and silent prayers, filled with a fear that connected the waiting siblings and your mother.

The moment the attending physician emerged after hours, he carried a mixture of hope and fear, his face showing strain. "It was a serious operation and her condition is still critical, but we are doing our best. We have to wait and hope."

The news hit Alex and Kara like a blow. In the hours that followed, they lingered in the waiting room, praying for you and holding each other. The night passed slowly and the first rays of morning sunlight illuminated the hospital corridors. The doctor came out again, this time with a look of caution on his face. "It was close, but her daughter and sister survived the surgery. It will take a long recovery time, but we are optimistic."

All three breathed a sigh of relief, tears of joy mixing with the exhaustion and dirt that still lay on their faces. Together they made their way to your hospital room to support you as the sun rose over Midvale.

Alex and Kara literally stormed into the room. The sight of you connected to numerous tubes and equipment brought a mixture of relief and sadness. They sat on the bed and held your hand. "We are here with you. You will get through this," the redhead whispered softly. "We love you. You are not alone."

The next days and weeks were characterized by fear and hope. The siblings shared the pain, the fear and the desperate longing for a positive turnaround. And as those days passed, Alex and Kara seemed to grow even closer as they waited side by side for you to return to life.

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