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jansenbolton60 · 3 months

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The supreme Guide to Finding the Right Vehicle accident Injury Lawyer

When you locate yourself involved within an auto accident and experiencing injuries, the value of finding the right vehicle accident injury lawyer cannot become overstated. Not simply can they lead you throughout the complicated legal process, yet they can in addition work tirelessly to be able to ensure you obtain the settlement you ought to have. However, with consequently motor vehicle accident solicitors out there there claiming to get experts in car crash cases, it may be overwhelming to know where to start. process of suing for car accident should offer you with most the information you have to make an informed decision when that comes to choosing the right auto accident injury lawyer for your case.

Automobile accidents can easily result in a new wide range involving injuries, from small cuts and craters to more serious injuries like busted bones, whiplash, or perhaps head trauma. Being familiar with the types associated with injuries that can occur in a car accident is essential, as this will assist you to identify the particular specialized expertise a person may need from the lawyer. Additionally, it's crucial to take into account the experience and track record associated with the lawyer or even practice you're considering. By examining their very own previous cases and effectiveness, you will gain insight straight into their ability to be able to handle your specific injuries case effectively. With the right vehicle accident injury lawyer by simply your side, a person can give attention to the recovery while that they advocate for the protection under the law and guard the particular compensation you are worthy of. So, let's delve deeper into this specific ultimate guide plus discover how to be able to find the ideal vehicle accident injury attorney.

just one. Understanding Car Car accident Injury Legal professionals

Car crash injury lawyers are legitimate professionals who concentrate on handling cases linked to injuries sustained in car accidents. These kinds of lawyers possess specific familiarity with personal injuries laws and are experienced in navigating the complexities of auto accident claims. If you find yourself involved in some sort of car accident and suffer injuries, an auto accident injury lawyer may be your ally and guide a person from the legal method this means you obtain the particular compensation you ought to have.

Vehicle accident injury legal representatives are well-versed inside the various types involving injuries that may end result from car mishaps. They understand that injuries may range by minor cuts and even bruises to even more severe injuries for instance broken bones, spinal cord injuries, or distressing brain injuries. By simply understanding the specific injuries you possess sustained, auto accident personal injury lawyers can properly build a robust case on your own behalf.

In addition in order to understanding the physical injuries that may occur, car accident injury attorneys are familiar with typically the emotional and monetary toll that an incident can take upon you and your cherished ones. They understand the impact of which medical bills, lost wages, and on-going rehabilitation can have on your living. Car accident personal injury lawyers work vigilantly to make sure that all of these factors are taken into bank account when fighting intended for your rights and pursuing a fair settlement or consensus.

Throughout summary, car crash injury lawyers are legitimate experts who specialize in assisting individuals who have been injured inside car accidents. That they end up with a deep being familiar with of the many forms of injuries that can occur and the particular physical, emotional, and even financial hardships that will can derive from these kinds of accidents. By searching for the guidance involving a car accident personal injury lawyer, you can easily increase your likelihood of receiving the settlement you need to recover and move ahead with your current life.

2. Factors to Consider When Choosing an Automobile Accident Injury Lawyer

Discovering the right car accident injury attorney could be a crucial decision when you've already been involved in an accident. Using average settlement for broken bone in car accident , it's important in order to consider certain elements that will help you call and make a knowledgeable choice. Allow me to share 3 key considerations to be able to keep in brain:

Encounter matters: With regards to legal matters, experience can easily make a considerable difference. Search for a car accident injury legal professional who have years associated with experience in handling cases much like the one you have. An experienced lawyer will have dear insights and expertise of the lawful system to effectively navigate your situation. They will always be familiar with the intricacies of car crash laws and the way to build a strong circumstance on your part.

Monitor record of achievement: You have to assess the track record of any lawyer if you're considering. Look with regard to a car crash personal injury lawyer who offers a proven great obtaining favorable pay outs or verdicts for clients. This shows their ability in order to effectively negotiate using insurance providers or present a compelling case in court. Checking out reviews and customer feedback can provide valuable observations within their track record and customer happiness.

Communication in addition to accessibility: A great legal professional will prioritize communication and be attainable to their customers. Be aware of how reactive they can be during primary consultations and just how promptly they come back your calls or perhaps emails. Effective interaction is key to be able to understanding the progress and developments associated with your case. Furthermore, make sure an individual feel comfortable discussing the concerns and requesting questions with the lawyer you select.

Remember, finding the right automobile accident personal injury lawyer is the vital step towards obtaining the compensation you deserve. By considering their experience, track record, and communication skills, you increase the probability of a prosperous outcome for your situation.

several. Tips for Discovering the right Car Accident Injury Lawyer

Research and Gather Information : Start off by conducting detailed research on car crash injury lawyers in your town. Look for reliable law firms or person lawyers specializing inside personal injury circumstances, particularly those relevant to car accidents. Collect details about their expertise, background, and success rate in handling car accident damage cases. Take be aware of any testimonials or testimonials by previous clients to get an concept of these reputation in addition to customer happiness.

Seek Recommendations : Reach out to friends, family, or colleagues which may have been involved in a car accident prior to and successfully chosen a car crash injury lawyer. Look for can a car accident cause headaches and even inquire about their experience working with the lawyer. motor vehicle accident solicitors may be handy in finding some sort of trustworthy and proficient lawyer who could effectively handle your current case.

Schedule Initial Consultation services : Once you have elevated to your shortlist a few prospective car accident injuries lawyers, schedule preliminary consultations with all of them. Most lawyers offer you free consultations in order to discuss your circumstance and assess its viability. Use this kind of possibility to ask queries about their knowledge, approach to dealing with car accident injury circumstances, and costs or transaction structure. During typically the consultation, focus on precisely how the lawyer convey and addresses the concerns. This might provide you with insight straight into their communication style and compatibility together with your needs.

Remember, finding typically the right car crash injury lawyer is vital for the success involving your case. By simply researching, gathering data, seeking recommendations, and even scheduling initial consultation services, you can make the best decision and pick a lawyer that is ideal to be able to represent you in addition to fight for your legal rights in the car incident injury claim.

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doberbutts · 10 months

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When I was first in recovery for my brain injury, the physical therapist's office was incredibly mobility-friendly and the majority of people there used wheelchairs. I was paralyzed down my right side due to my neck and back injury from the same car accident so I also was in a wheelchair until I had recovered enough to use a cane instead.

The lights were so bright that I spent the first several weeks of exercises with a towel covering my face as I laid on the bench and my PT worked on me and then I would be driven home to cry for hours in the dark because even with that it was still Too Much Too Loud Too Bright Too Tactile Too Much. At some point, several weeks in, my PT suggested we move to a private room instead of the main exercise area where she could turn off the lights and we could work in the dark instead.

During that period I couldn't talk to advocate for myself so there was no way for me to communicate my needs besides through gestures and grunts and forcing single word sentences out. I couldn't hold a pencil long enough to write and I couldn't look at a screen long enough to type.

So yes actually I have been places where mobility needs are met but no one else's are, and I've also been places where other needs are met but not mobility. Funny enough ableism in society is a weapon used against any and all disabled people and having inadequate accomodations should be a uniting factor between us rather than a dividing point. It sucks to be disabled in ableist society. I think we all know that.

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vintageurovision · 2 years

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youtube

Il Est Là, Dany Dauberson | Italy, Eurovision Song Contest Grand Prix Eurovision de la Chanson Européenne 1956

#eurovision #eurovision 1956 #esc #esc 1956 #france #dany dauberson #when I was typing her name on youtube the first suggestion was 'dany dauberson accident'#so... not fun fact:#she was in a car crash in the late 60s with a french actress who ended up dying from her injuries #and while dany survived she never really recovered from it :/#france '56 #op #video #50s #Youtube

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chiefdirector · 2 months

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Crash | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

“Where is she?” Sargent Tim Bradford demanded as soon as he stepped off the elevator and into the reception area of the Hospital. Chen was behind him, trying to keep up as he weaved his way through the crowd towards the desk.

There had been a pile up on the freeway. Multiple casualties and even more injuries. In the rubble, Detective (Y/N) Bradford’s car lay. She had been on the radio to Tim and Sargent Grey when her car had been smashed into. He listened as she screamed and went silent.

When he and Chen arrived at the scene, she had already been carted away in an ambulance, with the firefighters and emergency rescue teams unsure whether or not she had been one of those to leave in a body bag.

“Where is she?!” He repeated as he got to the desk, ignoring the groaning and complaints of the people she shoved past. He barely clocked onto the bewildered expression of the receptionist as he spoke.”

“Sir, if this is about the accident you will have-“

“If you tell me to wait, I will have you arrested for obstruction of justice,” he snapped. Chen tried to pull him away and calm him down but he stood strong. “Where is (Y/N) Bradford. She should’ve been here.”

The receptionist looked quite shaken by his request but she still searched the name, hands trembling as she typed. “There is a (Y/N) Bradford but I don’t have a status on her condition. I can tell you when I get the report in. You’ll be the first to know.”

“Fine,” he snapped, moving away from the desk before he worked himself up anymore.

——————

Five hours had passed before he had heard anything.

Watching the waiting room clear out, he felt like he was going to lose his mind. One by one he saw happy reunion or heartbreak for everybody around him. The longer the Tim passed, the worse the outcome in the bottom of his stomach felt.

It was as if he couldn’t breathe. Not knowing if she was okay or not. So when the small receptionist approach him, it was as if air had been restored.

“Excuse me, officer.” She said, trying to keep her voice steady. “I have an update on (Y/N) Bradford.”

Tim whipped around immediately, pouring all of his focus into her words. “What? Where is she? Is she-“

“Ms. Bradford is currently being treated in the Trauma Unit. She had sustained severe injuries to her left arm. She had surgery to place some bolts to help align the bone.”

“She’ll be okay?” He breathed.

“Yes.” The receptionist paused, looking at the foreboding Sargent, recognising the look of love and worry in his eyes. “She’ll be okay. She’s been asking for someone named Tim. I’m assuming that’s you.”

“Yeah,” he said, voice wavering for the first time as the rush of relief flowed through him. Although he wouldn’t truly relax until he saw her. “Can I go see her?”

“Like I said, she’s been asking for you.”

——————

Despite being told she was awake doing well, Tim almost sprinted to her bedside, not believing anything until he saw her himself. It took every ounce of will power not to burst through the door. Stopping directly outside, he took a deep breath before entering.

Despite all the tubes, cannulas, and bandages, she still looked ethereal. He swore that even an angel couldn’t have looked as beautiful as her.

“Hi,” he breathed out, slowing making his way to her bedside. Once she was in reach, he leaned across to brush some hair out of her face. “How you doing sweetheart?”

“Sore.” She said, voice croaking from sleep. With much effort, she shuffled across the bed to beckon him to lay with her.

“I bet. I was real worried about you.”

She cooed slightly at his words. “Here I was thinking that the Sargent Tim Bradford was some unfeeling monster.”

“Not for you sweetheart. Not for you.”

Masterlist

@rookietrek

#tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie #the rookie x reader #chiefdirector

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paddockbunny · 9 months

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Crowded

Summary : Inspired by the totally mad crowds outside of the drivers hotel in Budapest. What happens when it goes wrong? Rating : 16+ Pairing : Lando Norris x Reader Word Count : 2,247 ONE SHOT Trigger Warnings : 16+, small bit of language, there is nothing dirty in this BUT there is mention of injury, crowd crushing, accident and hospitals just so you are aware! Images : curated from Pintrest Authors Note: I’m not sure if this is my best work but I wanted to get it up during the GP weekend. Also, this is not shaming any fans but I think we can all agree that the scenes outside of the drivers hotels this weekend is a little extreme

The sun was setting as you and Lando made your way back to the hotel. It had been a tough day for him. The McLaren wasn’t playing ball around the boiling hot Budapest circuit and he had only managed to get P12 for Sundays race. Disappointed and frustrated he had barely said a word since getting into the drivers seat and you knew better than to try engage him in any type of conversation when he was so in his head. You had better ways of making him forget about the day - and none of them required either of you wearing clothes.

“Fuck!” Lando drew out an exasperated sigh as he turned on to the street where the hotel was. Throngs of people were crowded, no rammed, into every available space. They were 7-8 lines deep. 10-11 in some places. It was worse than the previous two days when it was at least limited to right outside of the hotel but tonight, it sheer amount of people was unbelievable. Barriers had to be erected to hold them all back and while Lando slowly drove up to where he was being directed too they began to scream and holler loudly at the car. “Lando, is this….” You glanced out of your passenger side window to the sea of faces “safe?” you finished.

“I’m sure it will be.” He was calm about the whole thing. He didn’t seem phased in the slightest which made you wonder why you were suddenly feeling a little panicked. Your hands hand gone clammy and your pulse had quickened. A tight feeling grew in your throat and your lungs felt like they were anxiously holding on to a breath that you couldn’t expel. Lando parked the car. You heard the decibels from the crowd outside increase as he cut the engine. “I’m a little worried.” You finally explained to him. You had been mindful of his mindset since Quali. You knew he would be in a dejected, disappointed mood and he wouldn’t want you creating imaginary problems. “I can’t not sign some stuff.” He shrugged but gave you a sympathetic look. You understood that and you understood how all this came along with his job but it felt to you to be chaotic and crazed - and he hadn’t even gotten out of the car yet. “Just go inside. You go in and wait for me in the lobby.” He opened the door as a hint it was time to leave the safety of the vehicle.

The noise from cheering and screaming hit you as soon as you climbed out of the McLaren Lando had been given this weekend. Sure, the roar wasn’t for you - you knew how much fans disapproved of your relationship from all the hate you got on your social media - but you wondered if this was how it felt to be famous. To be a Harry Styles or a Taylor Swift. It was daunting and alien to you. There was no way you would ever get used to it like they did. Or in fact your boyfriend did. He was already at a barrier, signing shirts and caps for swooning fangirls. He smiled away as he turned and took quick selfies so they could remember their 20 seconds with him forever.

A security guard from the Ritz-Carlton came over to you and started guiding you around the car and toward the hotel. But in that moment you realised Lando had the room key. You knew his quick 10 minutes would probably be more like 30 and honestly, you just wanted to get out of view already. You weren’t shy but with all the stuff you had read about yourself from jealous fangirls you didn’t want to give them anymore fodder. So instead of going straight in you headed over toward your boyfriend. He was in the process of signing a cap when you whispered in his ear about the hotel room key.

And then it all happened in an instant. It happened so quickly you had zero idea what had even transpired. You felt a knock to the side of you as the security guard pushed up against you and then cool, hard metal being thrust against your other side. You felt sandwiched. That was the immediate sense. And then, it was replaced by pure and utter pain. The type of pain that ripped through your entire body. That consumed your whole physical being and captures every last fibre of your brain. You couldn’t think of anything other than trying to get a breath in and your eyes began to sting when you couldn’t, it was a struggle. The same security guard that had been guiding you to the hotel - who had just been hard up against you - was pulling you away. Your feet barely able to touch the floor as you wanted to let out a yell that you were in pain but nothing came out. The agony in your chest was nothing like you had ever felt before and as the doors of the hotel were pulled open, you knew something was wrong.

“Baby!” Lando’s panicked voice was the first thing you heard. His outstretched arms as he rushed to you the first you saw. “What” you struggled “happened?” “The barrier gave way. People started pushing from the back.” His hands were going all over you, checking you had no physical scrapes after you nearly tumbled to the floor. But while you might have looked on in the outside you knew from the fight going on while trying to breathe, things weren’t ok. “I” you started “can’t breathe.” He had to have seen the pained expression flooding your face as he immediately turned and looked for Jon.

As you were guided toward a more private area of reception - out of all the hundreds of prying eyes outside the glass facade of the hotel - you couldn’t think of anything but the sheer pain you were in. You felt tears form in your eyes a slowly trickle down your cheeks. You weren’t meaning to cry, it just hurt so badly that it was an automatic response. Jon, bless him, thought you were having a panic attack so proceeded to try calm you down with some breathing techniques but he stopped when Lando loudly exclaimed; “Mate, that’s not working. Look at her!” And his hand was in yours seconds later. “What do you need baby?” Lando’s hand caressed down the back of your head. You didn’t want to say it because you didn’t want to be a drama Queen, but the torture in your left side was insurmountable. “A doctor.”

It was THAT bad. And it was about to get worse.

Two hours later, you were sitting propped up in a hospital bed awaiting the results of an X-Ray. Lando hadn’t left your side, he held your hand tightly and raised your cup to let you sip on water. He kept blaming himself and he should have listened to your concerns about safety earlier. No matter now many times you assured him it was your choice to come get the room key he insisted he should have made sure you had it before leaving you and you wouldn’t have been lying in a hospital bed in Budapest if he hadn’t been so absentminded. Lando simply went round and round in circles. He blamed himself, blamed security and even blamed the fans at the back pushing those at the front to try and get to him while you (in your head) blamed yourself. You should have just waited for him in the lobby. You should have listened to your gut. But there was no use in blaming anyone or feeling bad about it now.

When the doctor finally came in to your private room at the end of the corridor, you were practically flying from the drugs they had given you. They took a while to kick in but now, you had never felt such damn euphoria in your life. In broken English the doctor took a deep breath in and finally stated; “Unfortunately, you have two broken rib.” Broken ribs. Two. That would explain why there was so much pain and why you couldn’t breathe. You hadn’t as much as broken a finger or a toe before so breaking a rib felt extreme, and yet you had broken two! As you tried to listen to the course of action and pain management plan the doctor was describing you could see Lando become more and more frustrated beside you. He only just about managed to keep composed while the doctor was in talking to you and unleashed when the door was finally closed again.

“Fuck!” He groaned under his breath. “What the fuck?!” You weren’t sure if he was pissed because of the broken ribs themselves, because you had to abstain from sex until you had healed properly, because of the fact you would have to go rest at home and not continue on Belgium (and potentially not go on the amazing summer holiday he had planned during the summer break), or how you had them broken in the first place. You watched Lando pull his phone out of his jeans pocket and you asked him what he was doing. “I’m not driving tomorrow. I’m calling Zak.” “Lando…” you sighed - as much as you actually could “No. I’m not leaving you in pain, alone, in a foreign country. This wouldn’t have happened if they didn’t allow the hotel to tell everyone where we were staying.” He held the phone to his ear and you couldn’t move to even attempt to get it away from him. You just had to watch as he awaited Zak to pick up his call.

Thankfully, it went to voicemail and he cancelled the call. He announced he would try him again in a few minutes. You could see the vein in his temple throbbing away. You had come to know as a signal when he was frustrated or angry with something - or when he was horny or about to come but those were certainly not the case right now - and you knew you had to talk him down. “I’m sorry, Lando.” “What for? It’s not your fault.” He sighed. “I know but you wanted me at the track tomorrow. I should have just went in and waited like you told me too.” You were hoping your tone was enough to convince him and talk him down. “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault, baby.” He rejoined you back on your bed. He had been sitting on the edge of it, holding your hand before the doctor had come in. And now, you were (ok pretending a little so his anger dispersed) feeling sorry for yourself he came back to the same position. He gently ran his hand down your cheek and you nuzzled against it like a little kitten feeling happy at the touch. “I feel so bad about summer too. You planned that amazing holiday and…” “Stop it. If I have to drive from Monaco to Italy then I will or I will book a bigger jet with a bed so you can lie down. You’re going.” He was very determined about you not missing out on the trip. There wasn’t a doubt you knew Lando would look after you - when he was around to do so - over the next few weeks. You knew he would snuggle with you, plump your pillows, help you get dressed and shower and also force you to eat his terrible cooking, unintentionally make you laugh and ask you when you were better a million times a day because he wanted to have sex.

“You have to drive tomorrow.” You told him, looking in those sage green eyes of his. “It’s not fair of the team.” “It’s a family emergency” He shrugged and his eyes (subconsciously) flickered down to your lips before he sighed (probably reminding himself there would be no sexy time for the forceable future). Seconds later Lando yielded. “I’m still going to call Zak. I want to let him know you were injured because of the crowds at the hotel.” It was fair enough “Maybe he can ask them to do something. Move them back, keep them away from the entrance. When they’re right there and gather like that you feel like you have to go to them, like you have to choice.”

“They just want to meet their hero. They just got overexcited.” You felt yourself sympathising with the fans in the crowd that had surged forward and resulted in you getting hurt. You had never been THAT big a fan of anyone before but you were sure that if you were it would be easy to get caught up in the moment.

“This is why I love you. Even when you are lying in hospital with two broken ribs you are still thinking about other people and can forgive them for hurting you” Lando smiled broadly. You had no reply to him. You just coyly smiled back. “C’mere….” He made a tilting movement with his head and you tried not to laugh because it hurt too much “I can’t.” Your words were met with a confused eyebrow lower from Lando before he realised “Oh right, sorry.” He chuckled and leaned in carefully so not to put any pressure against your chest. “I love you.” He whispered before his lips touched against yours. And when you were about to answer him and tell him you loved him more, you hesitated. You realised you were just happy to have his lips on yours and his kiss made you feel safe and secure.

#Lando Norris #Lando Norris one shot #Lando Norris fanfic #Lando Norris fic #Lando Norris imagine #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 one shot #f1 x reader #f1 fanfiction #Lando Norris x reader #Lando Norris x you #Lando Norris x y/n #hungarian grand prix

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noahsresources · 10 months

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prompts for muses who are Little Shits™

for all the muses out there who like to mess with others!! mainly meant for platonic relationships, but can be used for romantic & antagonistic relationships as well! feel free to modify any pronouns, descriptor words, & objects for your needs!

FROM THE LITTLE SHIT.

words. ❝ how'd you like the fake spider in your room? ❞ ❝ hang on a second, i'm gonna record this — ❞ ❝ i took 20 bucks out of your bag last night. ❞ ❝ alright, that's it, time for the tickle monster treatment! ❞ ❝ oh, yeah? and what are you gonna do about it? ❞ ❝ i think i might have accidentally just hurt myself again. ❞ ❝ what makes you think you can possibly take me? ❞ ❝ outta the way, i was here first! ❞ ❝ sorry, i lost that a little while ago. ❞ ❝ hey, come on! it was just a prank! ❞ ❝ i'm seriously thinking about forcing that secret out of you. ❞ ❝ wait, did YOU say you wanted the last piece of pie in the fridge? 'cause i kinda just ate it ... ❞

actions. [ SING ] — sender starts singing raunchy lyrics around receiver [ WRESTLE ] — sender attempts to start play-fighting with receiver [ FINGER ] — sender flips receiver the bird [ LAUGH ] — sender tries to make receiver laugh [ LEAN ] — sender puts their full weight on receiver [ COLD ] — sender puts their cold fingers under receiver's shirt [ DRIVE ] — sender begins to drive very fast with receiver in the car with them [ FOOD ] — sender steals a bite of receiver's food when they're not looking [ BLANKET ] — sender pulls receiver's blanket off them while they're half-asleep [ PRANK ] — sender pulls a prank on receiver (bonus points if a type of prank is specified!)

FOR THE LITTLE SHIT.

words. ❝ hey, stop that! ❞ ❝ careful, i just got that new furniture. ❞ ❝ okay, okay, i'll do anything, just please stop tickling me ... ! ❞ ❝ god, you're such an asshole! ❞ ❝ i swear, if you do that one more time ... ❞ ❝ i didn't actually think it was that funny. ❞ ❝ aw, dammit, you broke it! ❞ ❝ you can't go 24 hours without having some kind of accident, huh? ❞ ❝ you just cheated! i watched you! ❞ ❝ if you even think about messing with me today, i will end you. ❞ ❝ are you drunk or something? because that was some of the weirdest shit i've ever heard. ❞ ❝ okay, i won't lie, that was actually pretty funny. ❞

actions. [ HEADLOCK ] — sender puts receiver in a headlock [ CHASE ] — sender chases receiver around in frustration [ RUN ] — sender runs from receiver to avoid being pranked/scared [ NUDGE ] — sender briskly nudges receiver in response to a snarky comment [ IGNORE ] — sender pretends to ignore receiver [ PULL ] — sender is dragged into pulling a prank with the sender [ CLEAN ] — sender begins cleaning receiver's mess [ WIPE ] — sender begins cleaning receiver's injuries after pulling a stunt that doesn't end well [ LEAVE ] — sender storms off in frustration after being messed with by receiver [ REVENGE ] — sender pulls a revenge prank on receiver (bonus points if a type of prank is specified!)

#rp ask memes #rp ask meme #rp memes #rp meme #rp starters #rp starter #ask meme #ask memes #crack prompts #crack memes #silly prompts #silly memes #fluff prompts #fluff memes #silly #memes #mine

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wheeboo · 1 year

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emergency contact {pt. 1} | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which an accident forces you to call your emergency contact. PAIRING. ex bf!choi seungcheol x gn!reader (ft. cousin!joshua but he’s only mentioned for the sake of plot) GENRE. angst, light fluff, exes to ??, hurt/comfort, second chances WARNINGS. mentions of an accident and speeding (drive safely, please!), mentions of a vague break-up, depiction of injuries, implied that reader struggles w/ mental health and goes to therapy WORD COUNT. 1.9k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 →

The moment Seungcheol got the call from the hospital, he knew that something was wrong.

Without a second thought, he abandons everything in a fleet of urgency, almost as if he lost control of his entire body. He feels the intense pounding of his heart and the anxiety flowing through his veins as the thoughts of you lingering in the dark corners of his mind come back to him.

He remembers you telling him about setting your emergency contact under his name and expected for you to remove it after your break-up, but it seems like you didn’t make the effort to, or... just simply forgotten to. Even if you didn’t want to see him, even if the call was out of spite, Seungcheol knew that he had to be by your side. He has to. It was a promise that he made to himself.

“Come on, come on, hurry up,” Seungcheol urges frustratingly through gritted teeth, his grip tight on the steering wheel. “Drive faster, god dammit.”

As Seungcheol speeds through the streets, his knuckles turn white from the intensity of his grip. Every red light lasts an eternity, every slow-moving car in front of him tests his patience. Time seems to taunt him, stretching the seconds into feeling like hours.

Turning a corner, the hospital finally comes into view. He parks his car hastily, barely taking a moment to collect himself before rushing through the sliding doors. The pungent smell of septic hits his nostrils as he enters inside the building. Seungcheol realises it’s been a while ever since the last time he came to the hospital.

As he follows the signs and continues to walk, he feels a mixture of nervousness and anticipation thinking about seeing you, the bittersweet and painful conversations leading up to the break-up clouding his mind. Was this really the best choice?

But if you choose to push him away, he wouldn’t stop you.

Seungcheol’s steps echo loudly in the hallway as he approaches the entrance to the emergency ward. Each step brings a wave of uncertainty, making him torn between wanting to be by your side and his respect for the boundaries you may have set.

With a long, deep breath, he pushes open the door to the emergency ward, and he’s already met with an overwhelming sight𑁋doctors and nurses rushing past to attend to patients in need, the repetitive beeping of machines, and an atmosphere thick with tension.

Seungcheol steps up to the receptionist with his hands clasped nervously together. “Excuse me.”

The receptionist looks up at him with a welcoming smile. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, I received a call from... Their name is Y/N. I’m their emergency contact.” He mentally curses to himself for stumbling over his words.

The receptionist types frantically on her keyboard. “I see, and are you the guardian of this patient?”

“Yeah, I’m...” Seungcheol takes in a breath, feeling the uncertainty building up. “I’m their boyfriend.”

The receptionist nods understandingly and gives Seungcheol a sympathetic look. "I'll check the records and find out where they are. Please wait a moment,” After what feels like an endless amount of clicking and typing, she looks back up with a glint of hope. “Yes, there is a patient under that name who has been transferred to our patient care unit in room... 214. You can proceed past those doors, continue straight ahead, and you’ll reach it.”

He thanks the receptionist and hurriedly makes his way towards the designated area. His eyes scan each of the room numbers, and after feeling like walking through a maze, he finally reaches the hallway and finds himself paused in front of your room.

Seungcheol feels his heart pounding once more, and it felt almost painful to withstand. But with a deep inhale, he gives the door a quick knock and waits a few moments before stepping inside.

He’s met with utter silence broken only by rhythmic beating of the heart monitor. As he pushes past a drawn curtain, he finally sees your fragile form on the bed. A heavy weight settles in his chest as he takes in the sight of your injuries: one of your arms had been plastered up, a few noticeable stitches to the skin above your eyebrows, and bruises painted over the skin of your forearm and another one on your cheekbone.

Your eyes were closed and your breathing appeared steady, but he can’t bare to think the amount of pain you might be in and that he can’t do much to ease it. He wishes he can just hold you in his arms, to tell you that he was here, but he can’t do that.

Seungcheol slowly makes his way to a seat sitting against the wall, pursuing his lips together to keep himself quiet. But when he makes it to the seat, a low mumble makes him pause in place.

“Who...” You struggle to open your eyes, vision hazy. You attempt to turn your head to the side, squinting your eyes to a blurry figure you can barely make out. “Joshua?”

Seungcheol smiles faintly. The sound of your voice makes his stomach leap.

“It’s Cheol... Uh, Seungcheol,” he corrects you. Joshua is one of his close friends and also your cousin.

“Cheol?” You find yourself instinctively sitting up at the mention of his name, but Seungcheol races to your side and places a hand at the small of your back, guiding you back down on the bed.

“I𑁋Be careful. You were just in an accident.” When you glance down to where his hand was on your back, he swiftly takes it away.

Situating your back down on the bed, you let out a light chuckle, cringing from the slight discomfort in your chest. “I-I didn’t think you’d actually come. They said they were calling whoever was in my emergency contact, and I... remembered it was you.”

Seungcheol feels his heart clench around your words. “Do you... want me to leave?”

You pause for a moment, before shaking your head slowly. “No, it’s... You can stay,” You finally look up at him, meeting his soft gaze and his slightly disheveled appearance. “It feels comforting that you’re here, and I... don’t really want to be alone right now.”

Relief washes over Seungcheol’s face. He takes the seat from behind and brings it closer to your bed, finally able to get a close look at your face. And when you turn to look at him, you could’ve sworn something was tugging at the strings of your heart. You remember that look𑁋the same look he would give you whenever you weren’t looking at him, yet you knew he was looking at you. It was a look of fondness, a look of affection that you hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Is it bad?” You ask him, interrupting the tension-filled silence. “My face?”

You see his expression change to worry, and he leans slightly closer to take a better look at you. His eyes trace over the bruises and clean cuts on your face, even to a small cut at the corner of your lips that he just notices, but he doesn’t mention anything about them. Instead, he gives you a gentle smile that causes his dimples to deepen slightly and a shake of his head.

“You’re still...” As beautiful as ever, he wanted to say, but he lets those words fade. “Don’t worry, they’ll all heal eventually.”

You only give a nod to his words. The air between you both hangs heavy with unspoken words as you exchange stolen glances. The room feels confined, almost suffocating, as if it's begging for the walls to break down and release the pent-up emotions the two of you were hanging on to. Perhaps you both knew what your hearts are yearning for, but why is it so hard to simply say I miss you?

Seungcheol is the first to clear his throat. “I heard you’re going to therapy again.”

His words make your head cower down in shame, eyes locked at the ends of the hospital bed as you feel the pit of guilt bury itself in your stomach. You know he’s not judging you𑁋he never has and never will𑁋but you can’t shake the feeling away.

“Did Joshua tell you that?”

“Does it bother you that I ask about you sometimes?”

Both of your voices tangle together, but you hear his question clearly. You don’t feel irritated or annoyed because after all, you were the one who decided to end the relationship as you let your insecurities and fears project onto your burdening feelings. At the time you thought Seungcheol deserved better, and you let those thoughts ultimately make your decision without even considering his own feelings. And ever since then, you’ve wanted nothing more than to express the depth of your regret.

“Because I still care about you, you know?” You hear him continue. “and I want to know how you’re doing. But if you want me to stop, I can𑁋”

“Cheol,” You call his name sternly, surprising both him and yourself as he closes his mouth right away from his rambling. Overturning the hesitation, you finally confess, “I-I ask about you sometimes too.”

Seungcheol's feels his mouth go dry, caught off-guard by your words. A mixture of surprise, relief, and a flicker of hope dances across his features. But he keeps himself from getting his hopes up.

“And therapy... has been well,” He swears he sees that glimpse of hope in your eyes as well. “It’s been hard, but I think I’ve been making a lot of progress.”

“That’s good,” Seungcheol comments, scooting himself closer to the bed. “I’m proud of you, you know that, right?”

You know he’s proud of you. Whenever you made those kinds of efforts, even the smallest kinds such as getting out of bed, taking a shower, or eating a single bite of a home-cooked meal, you remember Seungcheol giving you those words of praise, the kisses he would shower you with, the way being his arms felt safer than your own head, and the genuine reminder that he was there for you and ready to drop everything just to make sure you were okay.

But your thoughts always considered otherwise.

Seungcheol reaches out tentatively upon noticing your stillness, his hand inching closer to your free one. His fingers brush against your skin, lightly over one of your bruises, and a shiver runs down your spine. You look at his hand, then meet his eyes, and he silently asks for permission.

Nodding ever so slightly, his hand laces with yours, and it feels as if a missing puzzle piece has finally found its place. The warmth spreads from his touch, easing the ache in your heart and the shakiness of your breathing. You both sit there in pure silence, hand-in-hand, the weight of the past slowly dissipating and leaving only the present moment.

“Seungcheol.”

Your voice sends him back to reality, his mind not processing the presence of your hand in his just yet. “Yes? Are you okay? Do you need something?”

You give him a shake of your head, chuckling quietly at his expression.

“No, I’m okay, but I was wondering...” You bite your lip reluctantly, eyes switching back between your clasped hands and his focused look. “Do you... want to stay the night?”

Seungcheol's eyes widen at your unexpected question. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to respond. The desire to be with you is overwhelming, but he doesn't want to overstep any boundaries. Anything but that.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable𑁋”

“It’s okay,” You reassure him with a gentle squeeze to his hand. “I want you here with me. I’ve... I’ve really missed you.” And I want to tell you how sorry I am for letting you go.

A smile crosses his face, eyes lighting as he brings your hand carefully up to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to a bruised spot as if to convey his appreciation. You can’t help but smile in return, feeling a surge of warmth spreading through your chest. The simple gesture holds so much meaning, like a tender reassurance of your unbroken connection that you both seek to repair together.

“Okay,” is all he replies with. Because you have no idea how much I’ve missed you too.

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zebulontheplanet · 4 months

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When people think of amnesia, they think of an accident that happened that caused it. Like a car accident, a fall, a head injury, etc etc. Which is completely valid and a very common thing!

However, there are people like me who do have amnesia and there’s nothing that physically caused it. It just is. Through trauma, through a dissociative disorder, through a cognitive disorder, the list is endless with the causes.

I have Amnesia. I cannot remember my past, and my present. I can’t remember important events, birthdays, weddings, my own memories with my partner. It’s disheartening and hurts so much to not remember key things that build a relationship. To not remember things that help you.

I do have some memories, but they’re broken up, and almost most of them aren’t what feels mine. They’re fragments, fragments of things I can remember and things that people tell me about that event.

Some memories are weird. I can’t physically see them, I can’t remember them, but it’s in my head like it’s muscle memory. Like it’s implanted in my brain and i somehow know it.

Amnesia is scary. It’s disheartening. It’s hard to deal with and it’s not fun. Please be kind to those with amnesia from any type of cause.

#zebrambles #amnesia #disbaled #disability #dissociative disorder #injury

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cybsoo2 · 22 days

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a bleeding bruise (pt.2)

╰┈➤ synopsis — The aftermath of the 'accident' stirs up suffering in all of you. How will you handle the pain? How do these three survive with the shame? And what will be the outcome of your relationship?

╰┈➤ pairing — yandere!vminkook x reader

╰┈➤ word count — 3.2k

╰┈➤ content warning — yandere behavior, injury, past abuse, vomiting, they're such little liars, needles, angst

ੈ♡₊˚｡ back to ⇢ pt.1

The rush to the hospital is a blur of blood. Stained hands, soaked in sin, carry you out to the car. Clarlet carnage covers everything it touches; their skin, the midnight air, it even seeps into the seats.

Jimin and Jungkook are frantic to force themselves into the backseat. They sit side by side with you laying limply over their laps. Your head is held in Jimin’s hands. He cradles you with care and caresses your soft skin. You’re turnt to face the front of the car in case you spit up any more scarlet. The cold air creeps into your lungs. It’s a comforting contrast compared to the fiery heat that incinerates your insides.

Taehyung speeds down the streets, missing multiple turnoffs in his mindless panic. Every bump he hits along the road results in cruel curses and scolding from the boys in the backseat.

The night sky looks like an inked artwork. Blue stars bleeding out into the black; their loss of light mirroring your own. It rushes by in a restless haze. Blots of blood stain your vision. The starry sky keeps you company as you sink further into a fatal sleep.

The first time you wake, you’re blinded by everything at once. The white-hot overhead lights burn your retinas. Their image lingering even as you screw your eyes shut. You blink back the burn and let your eyes scan over the unfamiliar room. White walls stare straight through you. An alcoholic taste burns at the back of your throat. A sterile smell makes you sick. All these unknown sensations swarm you at once.

The heart monitor picks up the pace, sending sirens off in the two men’s minds. Jimin tightens his grip on the hand he was already holding. He squeezes three times and watches while you panic, feeling frozen from your unexpected awakening. Your eyes roll rampant in their sockets; overwhelmed with information and foreign feelings. Taehyung takes over, forcing your attention on him instead. He pushed back the sweaty strands of hair that stick to your forehead. Then he grabs your jaw in a gentle grasp, whispering words to calm the chaos.

“Shhh, sweetheart, go back to sleep.” He cradles your cheek in his hand, creating a makeshift pillow for you to lean into. “The doctor said you shouldn’t be awake so soon. Go back to sleep, we’ll still be right by your side when you wake up.”

Jimin pulls up the blankets to sit at your shoulders. He lays on the edge of the blue bed; head having sunken into the side of your pillow. His hair is sprawled out everywhere, tickling your neck when he attempts to crawl closer. He puts his hand over your face, slowly passing over you to shut your eyes.

You’re dragged back off to dreamland by their sweet songs. They sing lovesick lullabies that send you off to sleep in seconds. The last thing you spot is Jungkook walking into the room. His face is sunken with a certain type of sadness. A doctor lingers out in the hall, clipboard and consoling frown falling off his face.

The second time you wake is much more tranquil than the first. This time, the lights are dimmed to drench the room in darkness. The steady beat of your heart monitor gives you something to focus on. The air lingers with the lasting scent of Taehyung’s cologne. You lift your head up from the pillow, trying to pull yourself up to look around. Two sets of hands push you back down.

“Hey, hey, hey, don’t rush. You’ll end up straining yourself.” Jungkook stares at you while he speaks. A pitiful smile pulls at his lips. Trying to act as if the isolating room isn’t alive with pain and panic. “How you feeling?”

“Are you hurting at all? Do you need a doctor? Never mind, I’ll get one anyways.” Jimin’s words are tangled with terror. He tries not to show it on his face, but his words are weak and erratic. Before he can get up to go grab a doctor, you tighten your hold on his hand, keeping him sat in his seat.

“No, I’m okay. Just a bit sore.” The words claw themselves up your throat in a croaking tone. You swallow against the dryness and wince with discomfort.

With the help of Jungkook, you sit up to take in more of your surroundings. All three of them sit in front of you. Jimin sitting at your side, Jungkook standing with your hands still interlocked, and Taehyung laying down at the foot of the bed. All of them watch with worry, waiting for what you’ll say next.

“What happened?” It’s a simple start, and you can already assume the answer, but the suffocating silence pushes you to speak.

Taehyung tries to speak his thoughts, but he ends up sputtering like a fish out of water. Jimin takes a look at Tae and tries not to tear up. Sick memories massacre his mind. His nose twitches as stray tears swim in his eyes. He attempts to hide his emotion, turning away from your questioning eyes.

Jungkook jumps in when it’s obvious the silence has been strung out for too long. “You just got out of surgery and the doctors said it was internal bleeding.” He skirts around the obvious accident that caused it. “They also said you’ll be in here for a couple days at the least. Just so they can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t tear open your stitches.” His line of vision lingers on your stomach.

You follow his lead and look down. Although, you can’t see the damage stuffed under your scratchy hospital gown, you can still feel the strike of pain. White bandages that wrap around you like rope and silver stitches pulling at your sickly skin. Thoughts of the damage hiding in the dark bring a grimace onto your face. Your injuries are all stashed away on the inside. Your only though is that you feel worse than you look.

“Was it that bad?” You turn your eyes up to stare at Jungkook.

He hesitates for a solid second. Your words have whispers of a deeper, more dreadful meaning. His head twists your words into a torturous truth. Because you aren’t really asking about the accident. You may have asked him ‘Was it that bad?’, but all he can hear is ‘Are you that bad?’ He hurt you so horribly that it almost invoked the dawn of death. This torturous truth is too much for him to handle, too much for any of them, including you… so he lies.

“It’s nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of you, like we always do.” Jungkook speaks his sweet lies with a sorrowful smile. Everyone else mimics the same miserable grin. You listen to his white lies, but this time you’ll try to trust them.

You eat a somber dinner of things that are barely solid. A simple soup, soggy bun, and jello that’s supposed to serve as a delicious dessert. You poke at it with your fork, watching as the red blob bounces around. Taehyung nudges your shoulder, silently telling you to stop. You can feel his watchful stare straight through your skull, actually, you can feel all their eyes at once. Their anxious eyes only settle when you start picking away at your plate. The food tastes like poison as it passes through your throat. Your appetite has slipped away from you ever since the surgery. But, with the boys acting all antsy and irritated at everything that hurts your health, you force down the food in order to ease their anxiety.

Each man nurses their own coffee in their hands. Taehyung watches the hot liquid swirl around in his cup. He’s reckless with the way he handles it, anxiety jumping at the slightest sound and spilling the drink down his hands. Red and angry marks wrap around his arms. Blisters burned deep into his skin; yet he doesn’t seem to acknowledge the pain. He keeps his attention towards you. Trying to be subtle, stealing glances at you every so often. Watching for any discomfort, making sure you eat at least half your food, and studying the bittersweet sadness staining your face.

Jimin downs his 4th drink before you’ve finished your food. You make a mixture of your meal, poking and prodding at it. Sometimes Jimin has to hold himself back from force feeding you. Stress stretches him apart, tearing at his mind, his lungs, and his heart. He hates seeing you so pale and so sad. So he helps out with hidden motives. He takes bits and pieces off your plate, eating small bites before holding the rest up to your mouth. He doesn’t let you shrug off his advances, so you end up eating more than you’d like.

Jungkook stirs up his coffee into something sweet. 6 packets of sugar and sweetener sink into the bitter blackness. He adds cream to his concoction and stirs until the sour taste dies down.

You stop eating when everything is half of what it once was. Not too sure how much more your stomach can handle. You push away your plate, trying to pass it over to Taehyung to get rid of.

“Just take one more bite.” He tries to encourage you, pushing the plate back into your arms. He takes a scoop of the jello with your spoon, the easiest to eat, and holds it in front of your mouth.

“I don’t think I can.” You look down at the plate, feeling intimidated by such a simple task.

“Just one more.” Taehyung stares straight into your eyes. His insistent nature has become normal for you. Normal enough to know that he won’t take ‘No’ for an answer.

You let out a soft sigh and take the spoon in your mouth. It's a difficult task to force the food down your throat. The texture and taste turns your stomach. As soon as you swallow it down, you know you never should have. Regret almost comes rushing out as you struggle to stand and run to the bathroom. The boys fall behind, faces clouded in confusion.

Your knees hit the floor with a heavy fall. Fragile form collapsing under the weight of your weakness. You hug the toilet seat tight to your body and hang your head over the inside. Within seconds every you ate is spilling out of you. The sight of scarlet jello mimics blood from the present past.

A crash is heard out in the other room. Taehyung comes in, colliding with the door and dropping down to his knees. He acts out of adrenaline, gathering your hair in one hand and resting the other on your back. He rubs soothing circles into your skin, whispering words of encouragement.

“It’s alright. Just let it out.” He locks eyes with Jimin as he enters the room. He sits down at your side, pressing a peck against your temple. He hushes your cries and keeps trying to tame the trembles that rack your body.

Jungkook gets a glimpse at the sorry sight and is immediately scrambling out of the room and screaming for a nurse. Head spinning with imprinted images of your red and raw lips. A bloody tint that throws his mind back to before.

Even after you’re sure you’ve thrown it all up, you gag on the metallic taste that lingers in your mouth. A rotten taste that tangles with your raspy cry and tints your teeth.

There are tears streaming down your face. Throwing up everything you just ate has left you feeling empty and aching. Jimin and Taehyung still stroke soothing motions down your back. Jimin pries your hand away from where it grabs the porcelain bowl in a death grip. He intertwines his hand with yours and lets you squeeze it wherever another sense of nausea rolls around.

Two nurses come running into the room. Unfamiliar faces set the two boys on edge. Jimin clutches your hand closer to his heart. Taehyung shifts his body in front of you, trying to keep you out of sight. Jungkook is the one to push them both out of the way so they can help you, but he never strays far, always hovering with a possessive stance and protective eyes.

The two nurses appear anxious in the presence of such intimidating stares. They’re hands sweat and shake as they offer up more painkillers and check to see if your stitches have torn. And when the nurses have nothing more to help you with, they’re fast to flee the room.

You’re settled in bed once again. You find yourself falling asleep as an IV drip digs deep into your arm and the painkillers put a heavy haze in your head.

Jimin squeezes in at the side of your bed, Taehyung crawls in close, and Jungkook holds your hand. They cradle you close. You’re smothered to sleep by careless kisses and whispered wishes. You’re sent off to slumber chasing a delicate dream of a different life.

The rest of your stay at the hospital looks relatively the same. You’re smothered with affection in the form of sweet sorrys. The three men do everything they can to make up for the incident, everything but actually acknowledge it. No one speaks a word of that night. Nothing goes past a simple sorry when alluding to it. Instead, they’re eager to show their remorse through action and affection.

Jimin hasn’t left your side since the surgery. He lays beside you in the bed, having squeezed in during the dark silence of your dreams. You wake every morning only to end up caged in his iron grip.

Sometimes he sits in the steel chair at your side. Cast aside whenever Taehyung or Jungkook has decided he’s pestered you enough. He never backs down without an argument. But one look at your exhausted expression and his angry words begin to die down. He taps the metallic chair in time with the clock. The tuneful ticking and copious amounts of coffee are how he distracts himself from drifting off into a dream. In all honesty, he’s been scared to sink back to sleep. The last time he found himself falling asleep, he woke to you bleeding out on the bathroom tile.

Taehyung takes most authority when it comes to distracting you from your discomfort. He turns your attention to the shows playing upon the TV. He gives you his portions of pudding at meal time. And drowns out any signs of discomfort with his tender touch.

Jungkook is the only one who acts the most distant. A simple side effect of taking on the brute end of your beating. His shame feels like the same shackles used to hold you down. A cold chaos harrows at his heart. He feels the bitter burden of his wrongdoings with every breath he breathes. He turns over his thoughts in the silence, and sorts through his sinful emotions while you sleep. He refrains from talking too much. Only chiming in on conversations when it includes your health or happiness.

He listens to the doctors lecture him on how to take care of you, sinking further into his shell with every sentence because he’s only done the opposite thus far. He watches while the nurses talk him through how to re-wrap your bandages when needed. He struggles to keep his hands to himself. Biting back his tongue whenever they touch your blooming bruises and you flinch. The nurses nurturing hands roam your body with innocent intentions. Applying balm to your bruises and wrapping you up in white. But when your eyes twinkle with tears unshed, the three men shout and shut them out of the room without any rebuttal.

They take matters into their own hands, knowing their tender touches are still too tense. You shed some tears and take your lips between your teeth, trying to hide the pain that’s more prominent than before.

They take matters into their own hands, knowing they’re worse for you than anyone else. But they’re blinded by love and can’t let their butterfly fly away.

The day you’re told you’ll finally be discharged is one you’ve all been looking forward to. They carry you out to the car once again, this time with much less gore and guilt. The scenery blurs by from where you watch out the window. The spring season seems to melt together with the high speeds Jungkook is driving.

They’ve all been acting more restless and rash as the days go on. Impatient and eager to keep you hidden in their home. Protected from prying eyes and devils in disguise. Naive to the fact that they themselves are the real mask-wearing monsters.

The rest of the drive drones on. Each building that passes more boring than the last. Instead, you fix your focus on the three men that surround you. Taehyung wouldn’t take no for an answer when he insisted you sit on his lap. So now you rest against his chest with his arms wrapped around your waist. His fingers skim across your stomach, soothing away the sickness that still remains. He does anything to avoid the white wraps that stick to your stitches. A pang of pain hits him in the heart every time he’s reminded of that night time nightmare. He walks his fingers across your waist, trying to kill time and relax his restless nature. Sometimes his hands stray away from your stomach and shove Jimin instead.

In his sleeping state atop your legs, he tries to catch up on the sleep he’s missed before you get back home. Too hysterical in the hospital and too obsessed over your well-being, he developed a sort of insomnia. However, this tiny sliver of sleep he finally gets is full of disturbances. As his dreams drift into a tortured terrain, his body begins to tremble in terror. Shifting in his sleep and almost smacking his arm into your stomach if Taehyung wasn’t there to pull him away.

During the rest of your drive, each man continues to fight their angry and anxious feelings. When you arrive at your house, nothing much has changed. They cling onto you like a second skin and still struggle with their self-loathing.

Yet their sorry words and tear-stained eyes will never be enough. Not when they know you both are bound to destroy each other. Not when this cycle of crimson chaos will continue till the end.

Even when they love you the most, stricken with guilt and grief, willing to do anything you ask, their lovesick obsession only serves to make matters worse. They hold you too tight, kiss you too rough. Their love is slowly sending you to an early grave. Yet you chose to be ignorant to their insanity. Developing tunnel vision to their love and ignoring all else. And when you slip up again, when they snap again - you’ll pretend it never happened. Harbouring hope in a broken heart. Trying to be someone you aren’t in order to survive. Their love is like poison and their hate is like hell. Staying alive with three lovesick psychos, all you can rely on is hope.

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

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when the trains a-rocking don’t come a-knocking

PARING: Tangerine x Fem!Reader (assassins)

WC: 2818

SUMMARY: taking a job in Japan collecting a briefcase from a train sounds easy, right? But not when you meet a pair of brother assassins from your past.

readers alias name is ‘slater’, but not crucial to the story and only mentioned once

TAGS/WARNINGS: 18+ only. tan and reader physically fight, mentions of blood, fingering, semi public stuff. minors DNI. no mentions of ‘y/n’

rewritten 25/04/24 - no change to the plot, just made it less crap and got rid of the sex (sorry)

You stand at the edge of the train station platform, mentally reassuring yourself. "Silver briefcase... silver briefcase. In, out, easy," you mutter quietly, not wanting to catch the attention of the other patrons around you.

This was your first mission since your injury a while back - an accident so bad, that it almost made you want to quit for good. This job was labelled as an easy assignment, and you only hoped it would stay that way.

The overhead speaker announces the bullet train's arrival and you give yourself a final prep talk before heading towards the approaching vessel. You get on and immediately get to work, wanting to find the case before Tokyo station --the one in two stops-- so you make quick haste searching.

You visibly filter through the bags in the luggage area, looking for a silver case with a blue sticker on the handle, should be easy enough, you thought. But you have no luck, so you head into the next carriage and then the next, until you find it tucked away at the back - the blue sticker acting like a bright, flashing, LED arrow.

You check your surroundings before sneaking it into your travel bag, readjusting the clothes to cover the shiny case - trying to hide it further by placing underwear and sanitary products over the top, hoping that if someone were to look inside, they'd be too embarrassed and leave you be.

By the time you had finished stashing the case, the train had stopped at the next station, and with more passengers entering, you blend in and grab a seat in the quiet car - not bringing any attention to yourself while you wait for your stop. You find an empty table seat and head right for it, hiding the bag on the floor between your feet, using the table as a shield.

You visually survey the area, eyes darting around to see a group of three sitting at the table next to you. You silently scold yourself and adjust the hood of your jacket, trying to hide yourself. You would have changed seats, but again you didn't want to bring attention to yourself, and standing would give you exactly what you didn't want.

The men beside you were pretty loud despite the rules of the quiet car, and because of their loud, albeit obnoxious voices, you began to think - your mind picking up on the familiarity of them. So you use your window as a mirror, using the glass to see the faces of the men.

And that's when you see them. Two extremely recognisable faces. Typical.

You roll your neck to get a better view of the group, confirming your theory when you see Lemon and Tangerine sitting beside some young lad. You and The Twins go way back, often fulfilling many assignments on the opposing side of them, and despite the contrasting teams, you'd usually remain civil with them.

They had cost you a few jobs, in the same way you would them, and over the years of just missing one another, you'd like to think there was a sense of loyalty between you and them.

Eavesdropping on them almost proved to be pointless until you heard the word 'briefcase' pop up and that's when you connect the dots. The twins had to be the owners of the case, right? Why else would they be in Japan? They're not the vacation type. And the thought of having to go up against them again began to knock the little confidence you had.

You keep your attention on them, sporadically eyeing them when you see Lemon stand, heading through the doors - presumably to the luggage area. And then your mind started to race.

You thought back on the story you overheard Tangerine tell, the one about The White Death, and that's when the angel and devil appeared on your shoulders. The debate of morals stepping in. You've always been on the opposite side as them but you were never against them - you liked them.

An argument arose in your brain: one part saying that you found the case fair and square and that you should keep it. The other part saying that your selfishness could get them killed, and in the graphic, brutal ways described in the story.

Tangerine stood up to take a call, his voice momentarily putting a hold on the internal conflict in your brain. He was so close that you could hear the demanding voice on the receiver, but then it goes quiet - Tan walking away to meet his brother by the luggage.

They both return promptly after to discuss something in the middle of the walkway, the brothers talking about the direction each of them should take in order to find the lost case.

It was your 'chance to escape,' you thought.

Tangerine strides past muttering curses under his breath, accidentally brushing your shoulder in the process. "Sorry, love. Didn't mean to hit ya," he nods courteously, brows pulling together for a brief moment. "Don't suppose you've seen a silver case? Can't seem to find it."

You shake your head and turn in to face the window, pulling up the sides of your hood to hide.

Instead, his head follows your movement, obviously picking up on something. "You," he states, an almost irritated crease forming above his brows.

You shake your head again, trying to avoid his gaze, but it fails.

"Slater?" he questions shortly - his tone knowing.

"No, sorry," you lie, twisting to look out the window again, trying to cut the conversation short.

"Not amused," he scoffs, crossing his arms. "You got my case. I'm gonna need it back."

"What case?"

"Give me my case," he repeats, resting his hands on the table, leaning in to appear more threatening. It's an empty threat, he won't hurt you.

"I uh--" you stall, shrugging your shoulders. "I'm at a loss. I think you have me confused. Are you okay?" you ask, adjusting the bag between your feet - clutching them on either side of the bag and picking it up so you can grab it easier.

His tone sharpens and his eyes narrow. "I ain't messing around. Give me fuckin' case. I won't ask again."

You reach for the handles under the table and grab them with one hand while you use your other to overpower him - slamming your elbow down onto his hands. You kick the insides of his knees to buckle his balance and run away, bag in hand as you rush down the aisle for the door.

But your headstart only lasts so long before you fall flat to the floor, his foot tripping you over. You hastily crawl back up, but he does it again, this time, his weight jumping on you from behind, sending you both to the ground.

"Give me back my fuckin' case," he grunts, holding you down - his weight anchoring you.

"You said you weren't going to ask again," you retaliate, trying to free from his grasp, pulling yourself along the floor.

"Piss off," he snarks, adjusting his hold to roll you over. "Where is it?" he asks, voice quiet, face mere inches from yours.

"I don't know," you breathe out, eyes flicking over his face. "I haven't seen it," you lie.

You attempt to free one of your arms, hustling it between your bodies to get a hit in, but he catches your arm, holding it tight. So you try with one of your legs, bending it to hit him in the thigh, but again, he blocks it - using his body to counteract your attempts.

So instead, you use your head --literally-- hitting your forehead into his nose to free yourself, hearing a slight crack at the contact. You push him off you and rush to your feet, picking up your bag as you head to the door - pounding on the open button.

You begin to panic at the delay, and before you know it Tangerine is behind you, nose dripping blood.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," you ramble, continuing to hit the button. "I'm sorry."

His stare is chilling as he cocks his head to the side - his stance almost scary. And then he takes a step forward, closing the distance.

"I'm sorry," you try again.

"Whatever."

The door finally opens and you stumble through, falling backwards and onto the floor once again. You squirm, scuffling backwards when he stalks towards you - his height now far more intimidating.

"Where is it?" he repeats, his voice far more composed but still chilling.

"In the toilets," you lie. "I stashed it in a vent. I'll show you."

You know there is no way to physically beat him, so you try your luck at tricking him - thinking you can deceive him instead. And it works. He extends a hand for you to take and helps you back up.

He holds a firm grip around your arm as you lead him through the next carriage and towards the toilets, both of you stopping once you reach the door. You open it and point to the vent, steering clear of the door as you let him enter the space.

"Attagirl," he nods, tapping the side of your face as he walks past.

He stands on the toilet seat lid as he undoes the screws - trying to get into the vent. And while his back is to you and his attention is off you, you duck back, grabbing your bag as you head through the carriage you came - heading for the next W/C.

You think you've got away scot-free, but then you hear him chase after you from behind, his footsteps getting closer. You make it to the toilets and lock yourself inside, barricading the door with your body - bag held to your chest as you catch your breath.

He pounds on the flimsy door, fists balled heavy and angry.

"Occupied."

"You dirty fuckin' liar," he scolds, continuing to hit at the door.

The banging suddenly stops and then you hear the sound of jingling, and your heartbeat in your ears. Unbeknownst to you, he was jimmying the lock with his necklace.

He lets the door swing open and he steps inside, tutting at you as he joins you inside the small space.

He locks the door behind himself. "That was stupid," he taunts, walking you backwards and into the wall behind. He holds your face with his single hand, fingers digging into your cheeks, eyes darting over your face in the same way yours are. "You relentless little bitch."

Your breathing grows heavy, the pounding in your chest almost bursting in your ears. You were so close to each other.

He picks up on your silent signal --those repeated glances down to his mouth-- and then he leans in, meeting your lips hard and heavy. The kiss grows raunchy quickly: tongues brushing over one another's, moans muffled between, each of you becoming handsy - all of your prior feelings finally being released and poured into something physical.

He deepens the kiss, using his hands either side of your face to control the movements - his cock chubbing up against you as he pushes further into the wall.

You reach for his hair and slide your fingers into his curls, keeping him close as you continue to make out, hushing whines into his mouth. And with your other hand, you reach between your bodies - fingers heading for the buckle on his trousers.

He breaks the kiss and shakes his head. "No time for that," he mutters, his voice hoarse. "Another time."

He leans back in, kissing you with that same fervour as he slips his hand between you like you did a moment before, fingers reaching for the zip on your jeans. He snakes into the front, his palm gliding under your underwear and over your pubic bone - fingers itching down towards your clit.

"Another time," he muffles against the corner of your mouth - trailing kisses across your cheek and along your jaw. "Promise."

With his hand down your underwear, finger toying at your clit, he uses his other to help you out of your jeans - the shimmying you were doing proved to not be enough. You pull one leg out and rest your foot on the toilet lid, opening more of yourself for him and allowing more access.

He presses his lips back to yours, his hips winding into you, his clothed-cock knocking up against the insides of your thighs. The sheer weight and shape of it nearly knocked the air out of your lungs, and all you could do is make a noise - a small, muffled, blissed sound against his lips.

He hums approvingly at your noise, his own vibrating on your tongue. His free hand cups the side of your face, keeping your lips connected as his occupied hand continues his teasing - the pads of his two middle fingers dancing over your clit.

The kiss grows messy as he starts to circle your entrance, his fingers beginning to ease their way inside. He swallows your wavering moans as he fills you.

"I know it's not my dick, but it'll have to do for now," he murmurs, hooking his fingers inside - knuckles bending. "When this is all done. I'll take you out, yeah?" he starts, his voice breathy as he pulls away to look you in the eye. "Get you dressed all nice, wine, fancy restaurant, hm? I'll drive you, look after you all night-- take good care of you. And then when I take you home," he pauses to kiss you. "You'll invite me in, I say no because I'm a gentleman--"

"You're not," you add, brows knitting and eyes softening when you feel him hit that spot repeatedly.

"I am," he nods, thumbing over your cheek. "So I say no, but you pull me in anyway. We talk, we make out. You're all over me and you want me so bad-- always reaching for my dick, teasing me with those tits of yours. Giving me those 'fuck-me eyes' you always give."

"Not true," you smile faintly, shaking your head. "And if anything, you're all over me."

"Not true," he repeats, pressing a string of kisses into your lips.

"And then what happens?" you ask, intrigued by the hypothetical promise.

"I dunno, we've never made it that far," he teases.

You bring your hand to your face and lick the pad of your thumb, guiding it towards Tan. You run it carefully around his nose and wipe away the flakes of dried crusty blood - cleaning him despite how much hotter it made him look.

His eyes remain half-lidded as he focuses on you, his features softening from your quick act of care. It was like those little glimpses he sometimes saw of you in the field. His fingers continue to pump into you, the grinding, fluid motion making it clear that he knew what he was doing.

"Will we ever make it that far?" you ask, swiping your thumb along his stache - eyes concentrated on his lips.

"Yeah, I think so," he hums.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

You feel that pit tighten in your lower tummy, your breathing growing strained with every passing second and then it finally loosens, your climax rushing in hard and heavy til you're creaming all over his fingers. Your head drops back and your eyes screw closed, trying not to forget about being in public.

Once you come back down, only then do you notice the attentive look on Tangerine's face - his expression almost enamoured as he watches you. He eases himself from you and readjusts your underwear, stepping back to allow you a moment to sort yourself out and dress back up.

You bend and reach into your bag on the floor, sifting through to reach for the briefcase. "Think this belongs to you," you hold back a laugh, handing the case over.

He glares at you playfully, taking it by the handle. "Right," he nods, holding it loosely at his side.

You extend a hand for the door and turn back to face him. "You're not getting it back because of that, by the way," you clarify, gesturing to those lewd moments before. "I just don't really want you getting chopped up into a million little bits."

"You're too good to me," he teases. "I'll see you around, yeah?"

You nod, walking through the doorway. "Yeah."

----

#tangerine x reader #tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine x you #tangerine smut

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xhmeusworld · 3 months

Text

keep on the sunny side | lee jihoon

genre: paramedic! jihoon, single parent! reader, fluff

pairings: lee jihoon x gender neutral reader

warnings: seizures, child injury, medical terms (not a lot but some), jihoon does cpr

word count: 1.7k

note: okay so i work in a hospital and i love paramedics so paramedic jihoon was born. i may return back to this idea if you guys were like me too :)

lee jihoon wasn’t the type that expressed his emotions freely. it wasn’t that he didn’t feel them. truly, he felt everything deeply.

anger, sadness, excitement. they consumed his very existence, but in his line of work, it was just easier to pretend that he felt nothing. it was easier to get through the day if he remained as stoic as possible.

his coworkers often questioned him about the front he created. did seeing sickness and death 24/7 not affect him at all? how could he move from a fatality call to a car accident without even showing a hint of grief? only his partner, a boy named minghao, understood that jihoon was indeed deeply affected by the things he encountered.

so deeply affected that the only thing he could do to survive was to shove the feelings deep inside, not allowing them to resurface.

however, there’s one thing he always remembers.

eight.

that’s how many children jihoon had lost in his career.

it was honestly rare that he and minghao received calls involving children. it had been a couple of years since the last one, but the universe seemed to decide that tonight was the night to reset the cycle.

the call came in around two in the morning. jihoon never heard the 911 call itself or read the transcript. the information was just relied to him and minghao in an urgent manner and then they were off.

the ride would have been peaceful if jihoon wasn’t on duty. the streets were empty, the stores were closed. everything was at peace.

that was until the sound of sirens cut through the night, ruining and disturbing any sense of tranquility that had existed.

unit 205, we have a five-year old male unresponsive as a result of a grand-mal seizure. there has been documented history of cerebral palsy since birth, but his mother reports no history of seizures prior.

when minghao and jihoon reached the scene, racing up to the apartment number that given to them by dispatch, jihoon only had one thought in his mind.

please don’t let this be number nine.

jihoon didn’t even have time after he knocked on apartment 24 to ask questions because as soon as the door flew open, he immediately knew that he and minghao needed to act. now.

a five-year old boy was on the living room floor, convulsing. a dark blue guardian helmet covered what appeared to be his unruly black hair and jihoon breathed a sigh of relief that at least there was no possibility of head trauma.

“i- i don’t know what happened,” you stuttered out. “noori just woke up and we were sitting on the couch together and he started having a seizure. he’s never had one before!” a sob escaped your lips. “please, you have to save my baby. he’s all I have!”

minghao and jihoon quickly got to work to administer diazepam, which was meant to immediately stop the seizure. jihoon hated using diazepam as it had to be used rectally and he thought it took all respect away from the patient, but he had no other choice as a result of the boy’s unconscious state.

jihoon rolled the young boy into his side as gently as he could muster in a hurry as minghao carefully gave the diazepam. thankfully, it worked like it was supposed to and the boy’s muscles instantly relaxed.

you let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, but jihoon knew it was too soon to start celebrating. he was proven right when minghao searched for a pulse.

“he’s not breathing! start compressions!”

without hesitation, jihoon pressed his hands into the little boy’s chest, counting the all too familiar numbers out, his voice sounding exhausted. “1, 2, 3… he tried to ignore the sickening crack that sounded, signaling that he had broken the boy’s ribs.

“come on, noori, breathe for me,” the dark-haired boy begged, hitting thirty and stopping the compressions as minghao yelled “hold!” his partner’s fingers reached out to feel for a pulse. “start again!”

jihoon resumed his position. “1, 2, 3…” he tried to ignore the cries from you who was currently being consoled by the other paramedics who had just arrived as backup.

strands of his dark hair fell out of his small ponytail, covering his face and he cursed over the fact that he hadn’t found the time to get a much needed haircut.

“hold!” jihoon paused the compressions. “resume, no pulse!”

starting the third set of compressions caused a huge sense of panic to run through lee jihoon. most child patients responded by the second set and here he was on number ten of a third.

all he could repeat was please don’t be number nine.

“jihoon, i think we have to call it,” minghao spoke, quietly, hoping to god you didn’t hear him over the other paramedics. “his heart isn’t beating.”

one word popped into jihoon’s mind.

no.

and he kept going.

and thank god he did because almost if the young boy knew that he was about to ruled dead, his eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath.

“noori, my son, my sweet boy,” you cried as jihoon finally relaxed his tense muscles.

he did it. lee jihoon didn’t reach number nine.

•••

months had passed since jihoon and minghao loaded the young boy and you into an ambulance. you had your entire attention on your son as to be expected, but as jihoon monitored noori’s vitals and ensured the seizures were not going to resume, he had to force himself to not look at your face.

the dark-haired boy thought you were one of the most beautiful human beings he had ever seen and the pure love you had for your child made jihoon even more attracted to you. he attempted to shove the thoughts into the back of his mind as best as he could.

he was doing his job. that was it.

and that’s what he kept telling himself even as he sat staring at his computer at his local coffee shop.

jihoon had decided to take a day off to get caught up on necessary tasks he could do remotely. he had completed most of everything he needed to do, but his thoughts were so tangled with you that he didn’t even notice that someone was stumbling toward him until he felt weight in his lap.

he looked down to see a familiar sweet face.

“oh my god, I’m sorry! normally, he doesn’t just run up to new people and oh-“ recognition dawned on the your face as jihoon watched you take in his features.

the dark-haired boy smiled as he patted the head of the boy who was lying across his lap. “it’s nice to see you again.” noori’s guardian helmet dug into jihoon’s thighs. it did not feel pleasant and he was sure there were going to be bruises covering him tomorrow, but he didn’t mind. this boy had touched his heart in many ways.

while he was aware that noori had survived and recovered days after he saved his life, jihoon couldn’t stop himself from thinking about not only the boy, but you as well. were you holding up okay? did the hospital provide you any resources to help with noori’s care since it was just you as the caretaker? how were you surviving everything on your own?

minghao teased him that he had a crush on you. jihoon insisted that he was just concerned, but now looking at you in the cafe and knowing that your son had formed an attachment to him as well, maybe his partner was right.

his heart was beating quick. his palms felt sweaty. and he desperately tried to ignore the utter joy that entered his heart when you beamed at him. him and your son.

“i thought after noori’s episode i wouldn’t see you again to thank you,” you explained. “you saved his life. you helped me keep my son and i didn’t know if i could reach out to you because HIPAA laws and-“

jihoon couldn’t control the the smile that crawled onto his face at your rambling. god, it was cute. you were cute.

“you don’t have to thank me at all,” he explained. “i was doing my job.” jihoon patted noori’s shoulder one more time as the young boy shifted awkwardly into a sitting position. “it looks like noori remembers who i am.”

you tucked your hair behind your ear, almost shyly. “yeah, once he was at the hospital, i don’t he understood that you were a paramedic. although he can’t talk, i could tell he wondered why you weren’t coming into his hospital room.”

noori slowly got to his feet, wobbling his way back to you, his guardian helmet resting against your thigh. almost instinctively, you wrapped your arm around him.

“well, i would have checked on him but once you guys were out of my care, I didn’t have any information to find where you guys went,” jihoon stated, shutting his laptop. “but i’m glad I get to see you guys now.”

you grinned. “we’re glad to see you too, jihoon.”

you knew his name? he was going to die.

“and i absolutely hate to cut this conversation short, but noori has a doctors appointment in about half an hour and we should start heading that way.”

jihoon nodded, his brain turning into a thousand of circles. he didn’t want you to leave. “oh okay. maybe I’ll see you around?”

“yeah, maybe.” there’s your cute smile again. “bye, jihoon.”

“bye y/n. bye noori.”

you started toward the exit to the coffee shop something in jihoon’s mind told him that he couldn’t let you walk away. he absolutely couldn’t and before he knew it, he was on his feet.

lee jihoon wasn’t the type that went for what he wanted. it was easier to just let things happen naturally. no point in interfering with the universe. if didn’t happen without him doing anything, then it wasn’t meant to be.

but you were different. he knew you were different and he couldn’t just let you and your son walk out the door.

“hey, y/n, wait!”

you jumped at the sound of jihoon’s voice, your hand tightening around noori’s. your other hand pressed against the door of the coffee shop, holding it open. you were shocked by the boy racing up to you and the only word that seemed to leave your mouth was “yes?”

now that jihoon had your attention, his courage was almost completely gone. what if you said no? what if you laughed in his face? he was just a paramedic. you weren’t obligated to tell him yes just because he saved your son’s life.

the dark-haired boy awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he studied your face, looking for any sign of discomfort.

“um, uh- would you like to go on a date sometime?”

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scarthefangirl · 10 months

Text

Kiss me you moron!

Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Description: When you are injured during a mission Miguel waits in your room for you to wake up. After you do, there are some confessions made.

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, language

Story type: drabble

A/N: Bruh I wrote this in one night don't judge, and also I'm working on my requests I promise

Masterlist | REQUESTS OPEN

The mission was simple. Some guy had disrupted this dimension and caused a bridge to collapse and some other havoc. You, Jess, Pavitr, and Hobie had been assigned to apprehend the man while Gwen, Peter B, and Miles helped get people to safety.

You were on a roll, until you weren't.

It all happened so fast, you didn't have a chance to move out of the way. Everyone was so engulfed with saving the people from the threat, even you. No one noticed the car flying towards you at full speed, the driver passed out with his foot on the gas.

At least, not until it was too late.

So there you laid, in the headquarters infirmary, still knocked out. You had a bandage on the right side of your forehead because of a stitched wound. There were stitches in your right arm as well where there had been shards of glass stuck in your arm. You had broken two ribs, and a fractured hip bone that luckily didn't need surgery because of your quickened healing process.

Meanwhile, your team stood outside Miguel's office with bated breath.

"How do we tell him?" Miles asked quietly, eyes filled with anxiety.

"What's the big deal?" Jess questions. Unlike her, the others new his infatuation with you. He always spared her from his glares and scowls, when he would scream at them for failures he never yelled directly at you, and he tried to send you out on as few missions as you'd allow. When you persisted to go, he'd always be extra persistent to the group about watching out for each other.

"Miguel is in love with her!" Pav whisper shouted. Jess just rolled her eyes, although it made a few things click.

"We're going to be professional and tell him that Y/N was involved in an accident and we'll explain it to him," Peter said, trying to be practical. But everyone's eyes widened and they shook their heads violently.

"No no no. Ask any spider person here if that is a good idea. Its not," Gwen said which surprised Jessica because Gwen is normally reasonable. The adult looked around at the teens fearful eyes, except Hobie of course who couldn't wait to see how things played out.

"Why is it a bad idea?" Jessica asked, mainly to humor the bunch.

"He'd freak. He'd probably kill us. No, he would. He will blame us and," Pavitr shivered, unable to finish his sentence. He loved you and everyone knew it. And you loved him, but they didn't know that. Although it could be assumed, and many did, you were better at hiding it then Miguel.

Jessica forced the group inside and they approached Miguel. He turned to them with a frown, one often plastered on his face. "How was the mission?" He asked dryly. His red eyes scowered the faces in his office but didn't see the one he was waiting for.

"We completed it, but there was a complication." Jessica informed him, causing his chest to tighten. If you weren't there, and there was a complication.... He raised an eyebrow, encouraging her to continue. "Y/N was, hurt."

Rage.

They all saw it as clear as day. Anger crawled up his throat and spread across his face. His stomach felt nauseous and he couldn't catch his breath.

"How?" He growled. His hands shook. He hated that feeling. Feeling helpless and.... Scared. It only made him angrier.

"Well we were all just doing our jobs and a car came out of nowhere and hit her." Peter B. said.

"It full on slammed her, you could hear it!" Hobie gawked.

"Not helping Hobie." Miles warned but Hobie just said, "Good." The fury radiated off of Miguel and causes the whole team to cower back. He'd never been this angry.

But instead of screaming at them he just sprinted to the infirmary.

Your eyes fluttered open and you went to rub them but felt sharp pain everywhere. You blinked a few times to clear your vision and looked down at your wounded body.

"The heck?" You muttered under your breath. You couldn't remember what happened. You just remembered being on the mission. Suddenly you heard heavy breathing to your side and you looked over to see Miguel staring at you. You nearly jumped out of your skin, resulting in a groan from the pain. He hopped out of his seat and crouched by your head. He tucked some stray hair behind your ear but you gave him a confused look.

"Three questions," You began, "Number one: What happened? Number two: Why are you here? And most importantly, number three, why the fuck are you doing scaring the shit out of me like that?"

"Sorry for scaring you. You got hit by a car and fractured your hip bone, and had to get stitches in a few places because of glass. But the nurses said you'll be better in a few days because of your enhanced healing capabilities." Miguel said it blankly, but you sensed the tenderness behind it.

"That's kinda badass," You grinned. "I mean imagine telling our- shit, I mean, my future kids that I got whammed by a car. Wait- what kind of car?" You quickly tried to recover from saying 'our kids', hoping he didn't notice. He did, however, and completely lost focus, gaping at you. You felt your cheeks inflamed with scarlet humiliation.

"Huh? Oh um, I- I don't know. No pregunté, lo siento." [I didn't ask, sorry] He seemed to be in a trance of some sort, taken off guard.

"Well, that's okay. I just hope it was a cool car. I would rather be able to say 'I got hit by a brand new Corvette' than having to say 'Yeah I got ran over by a Kia soul.' You know?" You ranted awkwardly, truing to lighten the mood.

"Mhm." Was all he hummed in response, still staring off in a daze. You wished you could hide under the sheets until he left. He sat back down in the chair a few feet from the bed and watched you. You felt your stomach churning under his gaze.

"Miguel?" You asked.

"¿Sí?" [Yes?] He looked you in the eyes and you looked into his.

"You didn't answer question number 2." You stated. You wanted to turn your whole body but could only move your head without pain.

There was complete silence for what felt like eternity. You picked at the itchy white sheet over your legs and stared at your fumbling hands. Maybe you had overstepped, but you were sick of you and Miguel tip toeing around the subject of your feelings. He obviously liked you, at least, you hoped he did.

"When they told me you were hurt... I've never been so terrified in my life." He admitted, meeting your eyes once more. You were challenged to match his at first, but you forced yourself to stare back at his red eyes.

Miguel O'Hara terrified. For you no less.

You didn't know what to say. Thank you? I'm fine? You don't have to be here? Nothing seemed right. Before you knew it, words were slipping out of your mouth.

"I'm in love with you." You said then dropped your jaw, turning your red face forward and refusing to look at him. Did you really just say what he thinks you said? Did I really just say what I think I said?

Maybe it was because of his silence. Maybe it was because you wee hoping to admit your love somewhere more romantic. Maybe it was because he hadn't said anything to lead to this response. But you were mortified. You felt tears brimming in your eyes, the cause being a mixture of pain and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry, that just sorta slipped." You glance at him for a moment then quickly look forward again. He's so beautiful.

"Its okay." He immediately regretted saying that. It's okay? What does that even mean? Both of you thought in unison. He wanted to tell you he was in love with you too but while he was trying to think of how to say it, the others came in.

"Hey!! Great to see you awake Y/N, we were just coming to check on you." Jess said, then glanced at the looks on you and Miguel's faces and felt out of place. "Are we- interrupting?"

"No," You managed, not sparing Miguel a glance. Gwen gave you a side hug on your good side and the rest of the team stood at the end of the bed. Miguel shifted uncomfortably in his seat and let a scowl rest on his face. You swear he'd scowl no matter how happy he was,, only now he wasn't happy. He wasn't displeased with you, but with himself.

"We're so glad you're gonna be okay," Miles smiled sweetly.

"Thank you," You wanted desperately to get your mind of Miguel. 'I probably look like shit." You chuckled uneasily.

"You look fine." Miguel musters. You can't help the butterflies that erupt at his statement, much to your dismay.

"So, one question." You chose to ignore Miguel, scared to cry. Everyone looks at you, encouraging you to continue. "What kind of car was it?"

"A Honda civic." Hobie stifled a laugh.

"Damn, I was hoping for something cool." You rolled your eyes. Everyone chuckled but there was a looming tension in the room and they didn't need spider sense to feel it.

"Right well, we should head out. We'll check on you later Y/N," Peter smiled and patted your good leg.

"Sorry you got hurt, we'll be more careful next time!" Miles called on his way out, but you assumed it was more to please Miguel than you. The door shut and without missing a beat Miguel immediately stated,

"I'm in love with you too." You beamed after he said this, look over at him.

"I know this isn't the best time, but come kiss me you moron!" You laughed. He quickly obliged, walking to you and leaning over the bed to press a soft kiss on your lips. The corner of your mouth was cut but you couldn't care less, happy to finally kiss him. He deepened the kiss slightly, but you couldn't do much because if your injuries.

"MY EYES!!! I NEED TO BLEACH MY EYES!!!" Hobie screamed after having walked in on the scene. You laughed into the kiss and pulled away, breathless.

You watched Miguel's face, tracing every detail into memory. You weren't exactly sure where this left you guy's relationship, but you felt an ache in your chest from how happy you were.

You noticed the glimpse of sadness in Miguel eyes and ask him if he's alright. He just holds your hand, looking at your slightly swollen (but still beautiful) face. "For a second I thought I'd lost you, when they came in without you," he paused briefly before whispering, "I can't lose you."

"I'm not going anywhere. A few broken bones and some cuts aren't going to be enough to keep me away from you."

Tags: // @liliummz // @themarvelprince // @misselsbells06 // @american-sataness // @cr0ssoverf4n4tic // @depressednoob // @cerene-ciderr // @leighanne03 // @inluvwithfictionalwomen // @singhfae // @mythixmagic // @itsyourboymicheal // @Ravensinthedaylight //

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ironstrange1991 · 9 months

Text

You Are My Home

Pairing: Stephen!Strange x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Stephen is happy to get home and have you there waiting for him.

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: Very lovely p n v sex, basically just fluff.

A/N: Wrote this yesterday afternoon and decided to post it while the sex pollen fic isn't ready yet. Hope you like it.

Stephen used to be a man of exquisite tastes, who wanted to own the best car, impress as many women as possible, draw the most attention to himself at all times. This was Stephen before the accident, then there was Stephen after the accident, the one who lost everything he owned, who stopped looking after himself because he just couldn't make his hands obey him, the one who found purpose in the mystical arts and which ended up being dragged into the infinity war and blipped for five years.

Today Stephen was a third type of man. Less arrogant, more wise, he liked to think. Neither rich nor poor, but a comfortable thing between those two, somewhat eccentric in style for his old self's eyes, but most important of all: Stephen had you now. The woman he met after returning from the blip, with whom he had been together for three years and who had now agreed to live with him permanently in the Sanctum. Stephen was for all intents and purposes married now, although the papers still hadn't been signed and he still hadn't slipped a ring on your finger.

He never thought it could make him so happy. Of course, you made him happy enough just by loving him, but there was something special about knowing that every time he came home you were there to welcome him. It made him feel that everything he fought for, sometimes such abstract concepts as reality, the universe, now had a form and a name. You.

That night when Stephen opened a portal to the Sanctum after returning from an extremely long mission, he felt lots of feelings welling up in his chest. Satisfaction and a sense of accomplishment for having succeeded in yet another mission, relief for finally being home and knowing that he could take a shower and give his tired body the much-deserved rest, and a much stronger feeling, one that dominated all the others: gratitude for you being the first thing he saw when he got home.

You laid lazily under a blanket in the sofa of the living room, distracted by whatever it was you were watching. Your face lit only by the brightness that came from the tv once all the lights were off and just for being there, Stephen thought, you made the Sanctum Sanctorum really feel like home.

The loud sound of the tv and the horrendous screams and a horrifying music were enough reasons for you not to notice his presence, which made Stephen smirk to himself and close the portal behind him. He walked slowly towards you, his boots making the floor under his feet squeak and finally you looked up at him with a beautiful smile and promptly sat down crisscrossed on the couch.

"Hey, you're here. I had already given up hope that you would come back today." You said stretching out your hand for him to hold and pulling him closer.

"I confess it took me longer than I expected this time, but in the end you know I always come back to you." He said snapping his fingers and turning on the living room lamps, which made you squint behind the lenses of your glasses. You examined him closely, running your hands down his arms and chest and then letting out a small sigh of relief.

"No injuries this time, a real miracle."

"Sometimes it happens." Stephen chuckled, reaching his hands up to the sides of your glasses and carefully taking them off. He placed them on top of the coffee table. "Now I want a welcome kiss."

With those words, Cloaky let go of his shoulders and flew up the stairs as if it knew the two of you deserved a few moments alone after everything Stephen had been through the last few days.

"Hm, I think I want to give you more than just a kiss." You replied letting yourself be pulled to his lips. Stephen wrapped his arms around your waist and lifted you off the couch like you weighed nothing. He sat up and helped you straddle him and as soon as you settled into his lap you pulled him to your lips again, your hand holding him around the back of his neck, the other running aimlessly down his chest, your hips gridding on him until you managed to get a moan from his lips. Moan that you smothered with your kisses full of saliva, teeth, and desire.

Now this feels like home. Stephen thought.

"I missed you, Stephen." You breathed right under his ear, making his skin tingle and an electrical current run down his spine towards his cock, making him throb beneath you.

"I missed you too, Sweetheart."

Unable to contain the desire he felt for you, Stephen grabbed your hips and forced you down, grinding you on his cock and closing his eyes, lolling his head back and letting you continue with your kisses and nibbles on his lips, chin and neck. It all felt too good to be true. He had won one more mission, he was home and you were there in his lap.

He exhaled deeply cupping your face between his hands. "Let's go upstairs, I need a shower first, I'm all sweaty and dirty."

But you were eager to deny his suggestion, grabbing a handful of his hair in the back of his head and placing your other hand flat on his chest to hold him in place.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply, "I like it. It's very masculine."

Stephen couldn't help but giggle, but shortly after he let out a loud moan when you rolled your hips on top of his cock in such a way that he saw stars. After 12 days away from home, he was climbing the walls, begging for some relief and you were more than willing to torture him with all that tease.

"You smell good actually. Makes me horny." You confessed. Stephen loved that about you. You were always so open about everything with him, especially in bed.

"May I?" You asked taking your hands to his belts and glancing at him through your lashes.

He nodded and you were quick to unbuckle all the belts. After years of doing that you could tell you were used to dealing with Stephen's robes, and an instant later you had his cock out of his pants. You pumped him slowly and then stopped for a second just to spit in your hand and bring the saliva to the tip of his cock. You lifted yourself up enough to pull the pajama shorts you were wearing to the side and direct him inside you.

"Fuck" Stephen groaned when you let yourself sink on his length. His head tilting back, eyes closing.

You kissed him passionately, but instead of starting to move you just stood there, still, feeling him pulsing inside you. That was like heaven for you.

When you finally moved, you did it slowly, not necessarily searching for a release, but taking your time, enjoying the feeling of having the man you loved between your legs.

He didn't thrust up, instead he pulled you to his mouth, placing kisses on your lips, on your chin, down to your neck, rubbing his goatee there and smirking at the prickling of your skin. He loved that.

You kept that slow motion pace for what seemed like a long time, neither of you willing to change a thing about it, reveling in that intimacy of making love instead of fucking that you knew was so rare.

When your release came it wasn't like an explosion, but like a flowing river, strong but calm, long but silent. You buried your face in his neck, moaning softly and breathing hard, your body trembling on top of his.

He tightened his grip on your hips, moving you back and forth on his cock, prolonging your climax and you felt his cock pulsing harder inside you, his breathing getting harder. You cupped his face in your hands and rested your forehead against his, your eyes locked, but neither of you said anything, not with words at least.

When his release came, he kissed you passionately and your bodies movements stopped completely, you could feel his cock pulsing and spurting his warm cum inside you. It felt right, it felt like home.

Stephen doubted he would ever get used to coming inside you. Not because of the act itself, but because of the sensation, the consummation of a love so great that it went far beyond sex, but that somehow was enshrined in that gesture. He was sure there was something sacred about the way you made him feel when he came on you.

You stayed a few minutes without exchanging a word. You dropped your body weight on top of his and he wrapped his arms around you keeping the two of you connected and the silence never felt more comfortable. Just your soft breath against his chest and his on the top of your head. Outside Stephen could hear the sound of cars passing in the street, but inside the Sanctum the complicit silence prevailed.

Reblog please! Leave a comment if you liked it. Interact! I will love to read all of your comments and opinions. It inspires me to keep writing!

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sissylittlefeather · 2 months

Text

How the Web Was Woven: Chapter 14

A/N: I told y'all this one would be coming quickly. I can't let my babies be unhappy for too long. ICYMI: this is the soulmate/time travel AU between Elvis and a fem!reader. We pick up in 2023/1973 in a rather tense moment.

Much love always to @ccab for loving me and loving what I write. You's mah best frend.

Need to catch up? Here's my Masterlist.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, angst, alcohol use, cussing, a car accident, injury, hospital, and then the good stuff, kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), p in v penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, I think that's everything.

Word count: ~3.4K

You sit on the couch staring at each other waiting for his answer.

******

You sit in silence for a few minutes before you can't stand it anymore.

"Elvis? Did you move on?"

"I don't know."

You feel like someone stabbed you in the heart and you struggle to breathe.

"I need... something... I just... I'll be right back." You get up, grab your purse, and stumble to the door of the suite. The kids will be safe with him and your mom.

"Y/n, wait!" You hear him as you close the door quickly behind you. When you get to the lobby, there's nowhere for you to go. Instead, you head to the bar and order a glass of wine. You try to sip it slowly, but it doesn't last long, so you order another.

Back in the suite, your mom comes into the living room to find Elvis on the couch with his head in his hands.

"John?" She says it gently, trying not to startle him. He sniffs and wipes his eyes and looks up at her.

"Oh, Cynthia, I'm sorry. Did we bother you?"

"Not at all. She left, didn't she?" He nods. She sits next to him on the couch. "Do you know where she went?"

"I have an idea."

"Then why are you still sitting here?" He looks over at her suddenly.

"I really don't know." He stands up and heads towards the door. He turns back when he reaches it. "You'll-"

"I got the kids. Go."

"Thank you." He walks out the door and makes his way to the lobby.

He was right about where you would be. You're still at the bar nursing your third glass of wine. He walks up next to you and pulls out the chair.

"Anybody sitting here?" You smile a little before responding.

"No, but my husband is the jealous type." Then you look down at your drink. "Or, at least, he used to be."

"He still is." He sits next to you at the bar and you scoff. "Hey. Don't be like that."

"Like what? Like my husband doesn't love me anymore?" You drain your glass and gesture to the bartender that you want another. He can't help but be reminded of the party you went to together in 2010 and it breaks his heart.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't not say that." He sighs deeply.

"Honey, can we just try to be happy? For the kids?" The bartender brings you your glass of wine and you turn and look at him.

"Why don't we just make a portal and send you home to Linda?"

"How do you...? Right. No, I want to spend more time with the kids."

"That's fair. I'll be nice. Then we'll get you back to your girlfriend."

"Y/n..."

"No, you know what. Don't." You take your ring off of your finger and set it on the bar in front of him. "Here. Give her that."

You drain your glass and stand up, but you've just pounded a whole bottle of wine in less than an hour, so you stumble a little and he catches you. He grabs your ring off the bar and then steadies you as you try to walk. You pull away from him and try to stand on your own.

"I'm fine. I don't need you to save me. I do things by myself all the time. Who needs a husband?"

"Y/n, you're drunk. Please let me help you." Without warning, you start to cry. He lifts you into his arms like a baby and flashes back to all the other times he's carried you like this before: when you were sad and drunk in college, when you and he finally made it home in the snowstorm, and when he carried you across the threshold of your Vegas honeymoon suite. How did you get here from there?

You cry against his chest as he takes you back up to the room. Inside the suite, your mom has gone to bed. He takes you to the room you're intended to share and settles you in the bed, removing your shoes gently. When he goes to leave and sleep on the couch, you grab his hand.

"Stay with me. Please." He's not sure if you mean tonight or forever.

"Oh, honey, I-"

"Please."

"Okay." He takes his shoes off and lays down on the other side of you. His heart feels like it's in a vice and it takes him a long time to go to sleep, even with you snoring quietly beside him.

******

The next morning, you wake up tucked up under his chin with his arm around you, just like the first night you stayed together. But this time, when you wake up, you pull away and get out of the bed. You hear the kids in the living area with your mom, so you make your way in there to them. Your mom brings you a glass of water and you sit down on the couch. John Jessie immediately asks about his dad, so you send both kids in there to wake him up. The laughter that spills from the room when they do makes you want to cry all over again.

"I'm taking the kids today." You turn to your mom.

"What? No. He's here to see them. We should let them be together."

"There's plenty of time for that tomorrow. You two need a day."

"No, mom, we really don't."

"Yes. I'd give anything for another day with your dad. I'm not letting you throw this away. Not without trying. I'm taking the kids."

And she does. She takes them to the beach and promises to be gone until dinner time. You and Elvis just stare at each other in silence.

"Do you need fried potatoes?" He knows you and how you deal with a hangover.

"Yeah, I really do."

"Come on." You head downstairs together to your rental car in silence. He agrees to drive, as always, and you head to a breakfast place you've found on your phone. As you ride, he pulls your ring out of his pocket.

"Put this back on your finger." You hear the edge to his voice and it irritates you. What does he have to be angry about?

"And if I say no?"

"Y/n, I'm not asking."

"Why the fuck would I put that back on?"

"Because you're my goddamn wife!"

"Am I?! Because you don't seem to want me to be!" He turns and looks at you and you can feel the rage rolling off of him.

"PUT THE FUCKING RING ON YOUR FINGER."

"FUCK YOU ELVIS."

"FUCK ME? FUCK ME?! I-"

He doesn't get anything else out though because he's taken his eyes off the road and completely misses the red light. The other car collides with yours on your side and you skid across the intersection as the sickening crunch of metal on metal rings through you both. Time seems to slow down as you're thrown around inside the vehicle. Everything goes black.

******

When Elvis comes to, someone else has called 911 and the emergency personnel move around quickly, hollering to each other as they work.

"Sir? He's regained consciousness." He's strapped to a gurney and they're loading him into an ambulance. When he realizes what's happened, he immediately tries to sit up.

"My wife-"

"They're extracting her from the car. They'll meet us at the hospital." He tries to get off the gurney.

"No. I'm not leaving her. Extract her? Is she okay?"

"Sir, calm down-"

"Calm down?! WHERE IS MY WIFE?!" They close the doors to the ambulance and give him an injection of something to calm him down. He drifts off into a kind of twilight sleep again.

The next time he wakes up, he's in the hospital. He sits up suddenly and goes to get out of the bed. The nurses rush in to settle him, but he won't be settled. He yells at anyone who will listen that he needs to find you.

Finally, the doctor comes in as he's trying to rip his IV out.

"Mr. Burrows, you have to stop. We will take you to your wife, but you need to calm down first." He sits down on the edge of the bed breathing heavily.

"Where is she?"

"She's been admitted."

"Admitted? No. That means-"

"They're running some tests right now, but she still hasn't woken up."

"No. No no no." He collapses on his knees beside the bed and weeps. The doctor is deeply affected, but helps him back onto the bed. He has the nurses remove Elvis's IV and monitors and helps him get dressed.

"Let's go see her." Elvis nods weakly and the doctor leads him to your room.

When he sees you in the bed, he falls to his knees again and rocks back and forth crying. The doctor helps him into the chair next to your bed. Elvis holds your hand and presses it to his lips.

"God, honey, I'm so sorry. I'm so so sorry. Please wake up." You don't, not yet, but he wills you to open your eyes.

The doctor has seen a lot of trauma and a lot of broken husbands. But something about the way Elvis weeps hits him differently. He leaves you alone together.

"Please, honey." Elvis kisses your hand over and over, begging you to wake up. "I can't do this without you. God, I love you so much. Please don't leave me."

You lay in the bed not moving with the monitors beeping quietly. And he sits beside you, praying desperately to God that you wake up soon.

******

Elvis calls your mom to check on the kids and let her know what's happened. She's dying to come to you, but she knows someone has to watch the kids and he's in no position to do it. Besides, there's no way he'd ever leave you.

The doctor eventually comes back with the results of your tests. You have a very small brain bleed that they're hoping will resolve itself soon. They're not exactly sure why you haven't woken up yet. Elvis assumes it's his fault and spends the hours while you sleep beating himself up for hurting you, both physically and emotionally. There's not a single doubt in his mind anymore that he loves you and wants to be married to you. Almost losing you is killing him and he wants nothing more than to take you in his arms and love you the way he always has. He stays by your side through the rest of the day, not even leaving to eat, and settles in for a night watch.

Finally, around 3:30am, you stir a little. He sits up and watches you carefully. Your eyes flutter open and he's overwhelmed with emotion.

"Elvis?" You whisper quietly.

"Oh God, y/n, I-"

"Shhh... it's okay."

"No it's not, honey. It's not okay at all. I'm so sorry. For everything."

"This wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was, but I mean even more than that." He kisses the back of your hand again. "I love you so much, baby. I love you with all of me and I can't believe I ever thought I could be without you."

He moves a piece of your hair off of your face and runs his fingertips down the side of your cheek.

"You still love me?" You ask quietly, voice quavering.

"God, honey, yes. You are the love of my life." You smile, your eyes watery, and nod gently. He climbs into the bed next to you and holds you close to him.

"I'm yours, y/n. Forever."

******

They release you from the hospital a couple of days later with instructions to rest for three weeks before you fly home. You obviously can't afford to stay in the hotel for three weeks, so you find some small bungalows on the beach and rent one for you and Elvis and one for your mom and the kids. The doctor said you need to rest, so he recommends the kids stay with your mom, especially in the beginning.

Elvis is the perfect caretaker. He keeps you fed and hydrated and entertained and makes you sleep and rest to heal.

At the end of the first week, you find yourselves on the couch together. He's watching a movie on tv and you're scrolling on your phone. You roll over a sexy edit of Elvis on Instagram and accidentally turn the sound on. The song is dirty and it gets his attention before you can mute it.

"Honey, what are you watching?"

"Nothing!" You answer quickly, really hoping he doesn't press the issue. But he can tell you're hiding something and the curiosity gets the better of him.

"What is it? Just show me." You get a strange look on your face and now he's determined to see what you were looking at.

"No!" You giggle and he crawls toward you on the couch. "No! No!"

You try to push him away with your feet and he moves them out of the way to crawl between them and up your body to reach for your phone. He's on top of you now, trying to grab your phone. You move it around over your head and try to use your other hand to keep him from getting it. In the process of moving your phone out of his reach, you turn the sound up and accidentally click on the edit again. The song plays and when you bring your phone back down to turn it off, he snatches it and looks at the screen, still in his position between your legs.

It's a sexy edit of him shirtless and wet in the movie Fun in Acapulco. You bury your face in your hands and blush a deep red. He watches it and then looks at you surprised. Then, he busts out laughing and looks back at the phone.

"Is this what you're into, honey? I guess I should be glad it's me."

"Oh my goddddddd." You want to melt into the couch.

"Mike Windgren, though? That movie is terrible. Honey, what is this?"

"It's a TikTok." You answer from behind your hands.

"Are they all videos of Mike?" You pop your face up and laugh.

"Oh, no! They have them for all of your movie characters. And just for, like, you..."

"I wanna see."

"No, you don't."

"Yes, I do! Show me!" You reluctantly open TikTok and go to your saved videos. You hand him your phone and cover your face again. He scrolls through them and laughs. A few of them make him blush, though. He stumbles upon one of him from the Aloha concert and is amazed. You realize what's happening and try to wrestle the phone back away from him. He holds you at arms length and laughs while you play fight your way up him. Eventually, he stands up and holds the phone behind his back. You stand up and face him.

"Honey, you know, you don't have to watch those. I'm right here. You could just turn on some sexy music and look at me."

"Oh, shut up!" You say, blushing. But then you look up at him. And he looks down at you, energy gathering in the space between your bodies. He puts his hand on the side of your face and runs his thumb over your lips. You can tell he wants to kiss you, but it's been so long that he's not sure if he can. Slowly, he leans in and presses his lips to yours. He might look older than the first time, but his kiss is the same and you melt into him like butter.

You walk backwards to your bedroom, shedding clothing as you go, mouths still smashed together. When you get to the bed, you're both naked, but before he lays you down, he steps back and looks at you. He reaches a hand out to caress your breast and run his thumb over your nipple.

"God, y/n, you're such a beautiful woman."

"I figured I was getting too old for you."

"Never."

"I wasn't even sure you wanted me anymore. Not like this."

"Honey, I will always want you." With that, he lays you down on the bed gently and begins to explore your body with his mouth. You've done it so many times, but something about this feels new and sacred. He kisses every part of you and the sensation of his hot mouth on your skin makes you drip with need.

He finally makes his way to your center and presses a kiss to you between your legs. Then, he begins to move his tongue on you just how he knows you like it. He could be with a thousand women and still remember your body and the way you taste and feel. This is everything you've both been missing and he licks you like his life depends on it. The overwhelming sensation of pleasure courses through you as he moves his tongue over and around your sensitive bud. He slides a finger into you and feels how your body reacts. Suddenly, everything else melts away and there's only you and him and the love he's making to you. You feel the coil of your orgasm tightening and know you won't last much longer. He can tell you're close too and he ramps up the movements of his tongue. Finally, the dam breaks and your release rushes through you in wave after wave of ecstasy. He tongues you through the high and when you come back down he pulls away sighing.

"I love the way you feel when you come, baby."

"Mmmm... now it's your turn." You respond breathlessly. He climbs up your body and lines himself up with your entrance, teasing you with his tip.

"I've waited so long to make love to you, y/n." He pushes into you slowly, letting you feel every inch of his cock. A soft moan escapes your lips and he groans. "The sounds you make... mmmm baby, you make me crazy."

He starts to slide in and out of you in a gentle rhythm, hitting all the best places inside you, kissing your neck sensually. He moves gracefully on top of you and you want to cry it feels so good.

"I've missed you so much, baby." He sets his head on your shoulder as he fucks you in the gentlest way you've experienced since the night he proposed. This feels like a kind of renewal of your vows and he moans into your mouth as he kisses you deeply.

He starts to thrust a little faster, but never changes the gentle pattern of sliding in and out of you. Your walls begin to flutter around him and he groans, knowing that the end is coming for both of you. He fills you fully with each movement as his speed increases.

"Fuck, Elvis, it's so good."

"It is, baby, it really is." He rolls you over on your side and positions your leg over his hip. The gentle thrusting doesn't change, but the intimacy seems to increase as he looks into your eyes and peppers you with kisses. His cock slides in and out rhythmically and he grunts with the nearness of his climax. He whispers between kisses as he pushes in and out.

"I love you, y/n. This is a new beginning for us. And I'm making a promise to you. I will never question us ever again. You are the one who my soul loves. We are everything."

He thrusts gently a few more times as he holds your hip and moves ever closer to his release. The tears that slide down your cheeks are happy ones and you press your forehead to his and he whispers again.

"I belong to you and you alone, y/n." He kisses you passionately and pushes into you one more time.

"God, yes, Elvis!" You cry out as you tumble together into the sea of your orgasm, the waves crashing over you in a tender expression of your love. He holds you there shuddering and pumping weakly until he comes back down to earth. You lay there looking at each other, basking in the rediscovery of your love.

"I will love you until the end of time. And if you're ever gone again, I will wait for you." You put your hand on his cheek and kiss the end of his nose, unable to speak, but the vulnerable gesture says everything you'd say with words.

You lay there together for a long time, just taking each other in and reveling in the shared pleasure of the experience.

A portal appears and you don't even acknowledge it. You're both too wrapped in the web of each other to notice anything beyond the boundaries of your intertwined bodies.

******

Until next time...

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @aliypop @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @rosepresley68 @your-nanas-house @deniseinmn @joshuntildawn13 @lookingforrainbows @60svintage @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69 @that-hotdog @eddiesgirlforever @helen06dreamer @returntopresley @rjmartin11 @noirrose21-blog @tacozebra051 @deltafalax

#elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #elvis presley fic #elvis presley x reader #elvis x reader #elvis presley x y/n #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis x y/n #elvis x you #elvis presley x you #elvis presley fanfic #elvis presley smut #how the web was woven

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escapefromrealitysm · 1 year

Text

Survive

Alex Karev x Sister!Reader

Summary: After many years, Alex meets his little sister again under unexpected circumstances

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: angst, accident, injuries, medically innacurate

Note: English isn’t my firs language, so I’m sorry if (when) you found mistakes.

It was hard to figure out Alex. If someone, she knew that the best from all. She was the closest to him, until they were separated to different foster family. That event unutterably shattered them. They were each other’s last promise of safety. That was ripped away from them, and there was nothing they could've done in order to stop that. Neither of them wanted a normal family if that meant that they have to go separate ways. But they had no voice in the matter. Was life ever fair though?

She wanted to be there for him, help him through his first heartbreak, celebrate his graduation with him. She wanted to cry on movies to have Alex laugh at her and maybe sometimes make him waffles.

At first they tried to keep in close touch, but the new forced family didn’t like their continous communication. So it was cut shortly. The only thing that helped them stay a bit connected was their last name.

Alex didn’t talk about his sister. Not in his personal life, nor in the hospital. Although these two sometimes interwined. His sister was ripped away from him and that was something he couldn’t really process since then. And even if he wanted to talk about her to his friends and collegues, even then he couldn’t because he hadn’t heard about her since. Above that it was many years ago so he thought she wouldn’t even want to hear from him. They both believed this crap. So life went on and neither of them tried to find the other.

✦✧✦✧ ✦✧✦✧ ✦✧✦✧ ✦✧✦✧

The ambulance just rolled in with another case for the Grey- Sloan Memorial Hospital. The paramedics opened the door and immidiately started talking and informing the medical team about the patient and her injuries. Car accident. Fast tachycardia. Internal bleeding. Head and chest injuries. Severe fractures. Collapsed lung. Based on the shared informations it was clear to Owen, Meredith and Pierce that the female on the gurney, in her mid 20s was deep in the woods. They found out that her identity is yet unknown but the scene investigators were going to inform them based on the ID found in the wreck as soon as possible.

The team of three wheeled the patient into the ER and their number was increasing with other nurses and doctors. They were in need of more hands.

„Somebody page Shepherd!” was heard the instruction.

„Okay honey, what’s your name? Can you hear me?”- asked Price while focusing on the stetoscope’s sound. She never got an answer. The girl was out again by the end of the question. The entire room was in a rush, trying to work against time and minimalise the damage what the woman’s body’s suffered.

„We need a chest tube, now!”- and with that Owen got to it.

A nurse suddenly rushed into the room with Amelia who already started to assess the injured person’s condition.

„We have a name, age, blood type…”

As soon as the nurse took in the reaction to her past sentence she realised it would’ve been better if she doesn’t share the information before the surgery. Everyone froze when they heard what was the name. Meredith looked up, and locked her eyes with Owen’s, frowning. Y/N Karev. Karev. That couldn’t be. It must be accidental.

The medical team had to recover, she didn’t have much time. They did the urgent examinations, and headed to the OR, quickly. Even though they didn’t know for sure that Y/N was indeed a relative of Alex or not, they felt some sort of extra pressure, what they had to shut out as the OR door closed.

Some time later in the OR there was so much blood and there was still so much to do. They started doubt if they could stop the bleeding and get to the next task in time. Pierce was worried about Y/N’s heart. Didn’t know if it could take such a pressure for too long. They have to get back if she stabilised a bit. Although Amelia’s stopped the bleeding in the brain, she wanted another scan just to be sure. After some argument between the doctors they decided to close her up and let her rest a bit in the ICU.

Let her rest. But who is she? Meredith although was tired, but had to find Alex. She'd hoped that it’s some kind of misunderstanding. She walked on the long hallway of the hospital, her eyes were scanning the area, she wanted to find Karev. Since it was dark outside, maybe he has finished with his shift and took off with Jo already. No, that wouldn’t be great.

Suddenly at one of the corners they bumped into each other, she'd found Alex.

„What?” - He instantly knew something'd bothered Mer. By how she carried herself, and the look on her face.

„You look like you just saw a ghost.” He meant this as a joke, but his friend didn’t reacted to it like that.

She didn’t want to have this conversation in the middle of the hallway, hell, she didn't want to have this conversation at all, but she couldn’t hold the question in anymore.

„You don’t have a sister who I don’t know about, right?”- she asked desperately.

Alex was staring at his friend. He was expecting almost everything just not this. Why would she ask something like this?

„Wha– what are you talking about?” he was now panicking. Why would she asked something like this in the middle of her shift. It didn’t make sence.

„We just had a surgery on a girl. Her name’s Y/N. With your last name. She isn’t…”

And that was the moment when she knew she didn’t need Karev to answer her question anymore. He already did with his reaction.

He couldn’t think for a moment. He felt like the entire hospital started spinning, while his stomach was growing smaller.

„Where is she?” He felt like his heart was beating almost against his skin tissues while displacing his lungs and ribs out of the way.

„She is in the ICU for now, but Alex…” – he didn’t hear what she said after, because he started sprinting to the stairs leading to the named place. No, this couldn’t be. Sometimes he played with the thought what’d it be like to see her again, to talk to her for the first time in years. He was sure he would be nervous, yes. But he was confident to say that he wouldn’t have thought in his worst nightmare that their reunion would be something like this.

At the nurse station he got the direction to the asked patient’s room. He stepped through the sliding door, and there was no doubt anymore. He was in his sister’s hospital room.

Inside the room there were still nurses adjusting the machines and take her last vitals, but slowly they’d finished for now.

He couldn’t believe what he'd seen. She was so broken. At the first sight he noticed her head was shaved and bandaged. She was attached to a ventilator, covered in bruises and scratches. In his deep thoughts he didn’t even realise that the nurses’d left as well as Meredith was already by his side.

He had to sit down, or else his legs were going to give out.

He didn’t have to ask. He could see that Y/N’s situation was pretty bad. But he wanted to know the details. All of them. Whats up with her brain, how are her organs and limbs and how was and is their oxygen supply? How bad was the bleeding, how many more surgery will be necessary? How many bones were fractured? And who the fuck did this to her? He couldn’t decide which one to ask first if he was going to find his voice.

The doctor and friend standing beside him knew that he would want answers to his unasked questions. So she started to listing out loud what had happened before and during the life saving surgery. Told him who are his sister’s doctors, in case he wanted to get some more info. He had found out that one of the most concerning injuries affected her brain heavily.

Meredith knew exactly how does it feel to watch somebody you love on life support. Hear the ventilator do its job. And even if it’s part of their everyday life as a doctor, it doesn’t prepare them for the case when its not a person whom they know nothing about. She knew there was nothing she could say or do that’d make this easier for him. So she just stroked Alex’s shoulder to let him know that she was there for him, whatever was going to happen and assured him that later she’d send Amelia in, to inform him with the specific details. With that, she left the room.

Alex didn’t know what’d happened to her since he wasn’t a part of her life anymore. He didn’t know why she was in Seattle, hell he didn’t even know if she was going to make it. But he knew for sure that he was going to stay by her side and there isn’t anyone who could debar that this time.

He wouldn’t admit but he was afraid all along that there would be silence after everyone left him alone with his sister. But there wasn’t. He heard the late night traffic of the city, the sirens from the surrounding streets, the machines in the room, and his sobs as well. Even if he only wanted to hear his little sister’s voice.

#greys anatomy #grey's anatomy #x reader #greys anatomy x reader #alex karev #alex karev x reader #meredith grey #amelia shepherd #maggie pierce #owen hunt #sister reader #car accident tw #fanfic #imagine

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sardonic-the-writer · 2 months

Text

𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐌𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐄𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: fighting, brief mentions of injuries & alcohol. murdoc is a warning in himself to be frank

↳ song: rock the house—gorillaz

↳ notes: headcanons about murdoc & you. made to be platonic/a self insert type fic, but could be romantic too. this overall just stemmed from my infatuation and hatred for his green ass

nasterlist | commissions | carrd

• Murdoc is so self-absorbed. It's honestly beyond you how he hasn't floated away into the sun with how inflated his ego's gotten

• It doesn't help that he's regarded as the sole reason for bringing together one of the best bands ever recorded—something that he holds over the entire bands head when he feels like being an asshole

• With that giant persona of his inevitably there comes jealousy. The musician gets unreasonably grumpy if someone, especially you, is ever more excited to see a collaborator over for a recording session instead of him of all people

• "You were just gawking at 'em the entire time like an idiot! Wha', never seen a bloody live recording before?" Murdocs accent clipped his words as his gravely voice spit fire at you one afternoon. You just laughed at his annoyance, not even bothered by his attitude after years of putting up with it

• "Murdoc, it's De La Soul. Of course I'm going to be excited. It's ten times better than waking up to you rummaging around in the fridge with nothing but a thong on."

• "Get fucked you little twat." He barked, stomping off and ending the little spat. You didn't see him the rest of the day, no doubt off brooding in his Winnebago. It didn't bother you. More quiet time to hang out with Noodle for you!

• More than often, the two of you have been recorded in separate interviews talking about the other. Mostly just talking shit

• "So, what's this we've all been hearing about a certain bassist getting in a car accident?" A random reporter asked you one day from over their horn rimmed glasses. 2D, who was currently the only other person besides you that had been able to make it to the questioning, scratched his head absent-mindedly as you cackled in glee

• "Yeah yeah. I ran over Muds with my car one day. Just knocked his sorry ass right over. Pow! He recovered fine, dont worry, but the moment he did, I had to run for my life." You managed to get out through laughter. "Still have no idea how those fucking tabloids got ahold of that story."

• "Wasn't it an accident f'ough? I remember you sayin that." 2D tilted his head with a slight lisp

• You just grinned toothily and said nothing

• "It. It was an accident. Right?" He asked again, this time with more nerves

• The interview was cut off shortly after that

• On the topic of cars, Murdoc's own set of wheels was probably his only pride an joy apart from his bass. And ironically, the van was the bane of the rest of the bands existence

• The amount of times you had to bang on the Winnebago's dented door to tell him to shut up— the smell of cigarettes, sex, and too many air fresheners leaking from the cracks —should be a crime

• And each time without fail, you were always met with a shirtless Murdoc; either inviting you in for his version of a night of fun or just plain flipping you off

• You always found the latter easier to deal with

• Russel has always been the medium for any serious fights you and Murdoc would have. You both fight a lot, sure, but normally over small things like who should run out to get more booze or tune up band equipment. It was only when things got really heated that the drummer would step in

• Nine times out of ten, that just meant he'd pick you up with one arm and place you in a separate room until the two of you could stand to be around each other. It was always you he did that to, too, since the one time he'd tried that on Murdoc, Russel narrowly avoided a black eye and a week's docked pay

• It really was easy to forget that technically Murdoc is your boss. With how much shit he gives out, and vise versa from all of you, it really just felt like he was an annoying roommate. An annoying, rich, and vibrant green roomate

• At the end of the day, though, none of you really hated him. Well, the jury was still out on 2D, but you had a feeling the past few years the singer had been trying to pick himself back up

• Murdoc, however much of a prick he is, is still a key part in the band. Without him, some of the best song you'd all produced would have never happened, and some of your best drinking memories would have never happened. Hell, he even did a pretty good job raising Noodle. With plenty of help from everyone else, of course

• So no matter how many inanimate objects you all chucked at each other's head, at the end of the day you'd never trade him for another bass player

• "You lot getting soft on me now?" He grinned sharply at you, licking the outside of his teeth as you pretended to vomit at the mere thought of being nice to him

• "I'd rather die and be reincarnated as a cockroach." You grimaced dramatically. But the both of you were smiling at each other, breaking up the conversation with playful punches

#gorillaz #gorillaz x reader #gorillaz x you #gorillaz x y/n #murdoc niccals #murdoc x reader #murdoc x you #murdoc x y/n #2d gorillaz #noodle #russel hobbs #x reader #headcanons

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