#I am the reason EMTs tell you you were in an accident

[trickstarbrave]

Dumb things to say to an emt after you wake up from a car accident and were told you were in an accident:

“No I wasn’t”

#throw back to my car accident #I am the reason EMTs tell you you were in an accident #I’m kidding. it was the concussion #I think I still have brain damage from that

[shmaptainwrites]

Hello, could I request prompt 5 of Hurt/Comfort for Bobby Nash x reader please

of course bestie! wrote this one on the plane and am pretty jet lagged now so it’s poorly edited lol

Pairings: Bobby Nash x GN!Reader

Warnings: injury, hospitals

Appropriate

No one informed you that becoming a firefighter would permanently affect your reflexes. Particularly the act without thinking ones. So it didn’t come to much surprise to you or your team when there was an emergency on your day off that you would attend to it.

Off-duty saves weren’t particularly rare and most of the time all that came out of it were a few confused bystanders wondering how a civilian knew exactly what to do, but this time you seemed to have gotten yourself in a predicament.

Instead of only the parties involved in the accident leaving the site in an ambulance, you joined them too.

After your heroic move, the car that had slipped in a precarious manner, fell ontop your leg and most definitely broke a bone. The on duty EMTs patched you up to the best of their abilities and sent you off to surgery.

When you awoke from that with new metal screws in your leg that would take time and a lot of PT to get used to, your friend and colleague Ravi was already by your side, ready to get you anything you might need.

“Ravi, what the hell,” you groaned, shifting in your bed. “How did you find out about this?”

“After your sister moved you switched your emergency contact to me, I’m flattered you remember,” he said sarcastically. “I’ve been here since before you went in to surgery.”

“Sorry, must be the drugs,” you said with a wave of your hand.

“So an off-duty save huh,” he chuckled. “What happened to think before you act, Panikkar?”

“Out the window. I just reacted,” you chuckled. “Frankly, now that it’s happened to me I’m not surprised, it’s practically instinct.”

“What did I tell you,” Ravi reached a hand over to squeeze yours. “I called the team to give them a heads up. I think you’ll probably be getting some visitors in the next few days before you go home.”

“Good, hospitals are so boring and it’s not like I can go anywhere,” you pointed to your recently casted leg. “God the next while is gonna suck ass.”

“Yep, it sure is,” Ravi agreed with you and you rolled your eyes. He knew just how to make you feel better.

—

As Ravi had warned you, the next few days were filled with visits from everybody on the team.

Chimney came by with Maddie and Jee-Yun first, bringing you a much needed good cup of coffee and a sweet little get well card decorated by the young Buckley-Han.

The next day Hen came over. She brought a deck of Uno cards and you shared a few very heated rounds of the game which may or may not have ended in something closer to 52 pick up.

Buck came by next, he had offered to pick up some comfort items from your home and you practically melted when he brought you your dad’s old and worn college hoodie you’d had since you were fifteen years old. You both also spent time ranking the injuries the team had sustained at the firehouse, the list went on to your colleagues and was highly debated for the next few days after that.

Lastly Eddie brought Christopher over and their favourite telanovella downloaded on Eddie’s laptop for you to all watch together (not without many interruptions from you still trying to figure out what the storyline was).

After about a week and a half at the hospital on bed rest, Ravi was finally given the ok to move you back to your apartment. It took a lot of coordination to find a way to get you to fit into his car with the giant cast on your leg, not to mention him practically having to drag you out of the building. You were strong, but for some reason not strong enough to carry whatever the hell it was they wrapped your leg with.

When you were finally at home in your — thankfully — first floor apartment Ravi ordered something for dinner and you both sat on your couch to enjoy it.

“Hey Ravi, can I ask you something?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

You stopped eating your food, and stared down at your take our container.

“Do you know why Bobby didn’t come visit me?” you said quietly.

“H-He didn’t?” Ravi seemed confused.

“No,” you shook your head. “Everyone else came just like you said, I was actually kind of surprised.”

“Yeah, I’m surprised too,” Ravi nodded. “You guys are close, aren’t you?”

“I mean I thought we were,” you shrugged and picked at your food. “Just a couple night before the accident we had dinner together a-and I had a really nice time I’m just…worried I did something wrong.”

“I don’t think you did anything wrong,” Ravi shook his head. “Just talk to him, send him a text, ask him to come over tomorrow night.”

“Isn’t that a bit presumptuous,” you raised a brow with a chuckle.

“You have a broken leg that’s casted all the way to your thigh, that’s not hot,” Ravi deadpanned. “Just text him.”

“Fine,” you pulled out your phone and typed up a text, having it proofread by your friend before sending it off. “And now we wait.”

—

The next evening you heard a knock on your door followed by,

“Hey it’s Bobby, spare key still in the same place?”

“Yep,” you called back, thankful he had asked. It was a nightmare to walk with a cast.

The lock of the door clicked and Bobby stepped inside with a a bag of what you assumed to be dinner, before closing the door behind him and locking it.

“Someone ask for room service?” he teased and you couldn’t help but raise your hand. It was definitely better than the hospital food and take out.

“I brought extras so I’m pack them up in the fridge and you just heat them up when you want to eat.”

You nodded at his instructions, but were perplexed by how normal he was acting.

“Hey Bobby, before we eat can we talk?” you asked.

“Yeah of course,” he said after putting the extra food in the fridge. “What’s up?”

“Why didn’t you come visit me at the hospital,” you blurted.

Bobby looked like he was expecting your question and sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

“Would you believe me if I said it would have been too hard for me to see you in a hospital bed?” he asked.

“If that’s the truth,” you nodded.

“It’s just,” he paused. “I-After our dinner I wasn’t really sure where we stood. We never really talked about it, it just happened.”

You nodded, that was true, one thing had led to another and you didn’t have a lot of time to talk about what the implications of your dinner meant for your friendship.

“And I knew if I stepped into that hospital room I wouldn’t be able to be just your Captain. Or...just your friend.”

“Bobby,” you patted the seat next to you and encouraged him to come closer.

He did, taking his seat and watching as your took his hands in yours.

“I just wasn’t sure what was appropriate,” he whispered.

“I don’t care. I just wanted you to stay with me. I still do,” you said quietly, allowing your forehead to rest against his.

One of Bobby’s hands slipped out of your own and came to cradle your face.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t come.”

“You’re here now,” you smiled.

He leaned in the few inches further and closed the space between you, pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“And I’m not going anywhere.”

#bobby nash #bobby nash x reader #911 #911 blurb #911reader #911 x reader #bobby nash blurb

[bratkin]

Remember when

Remember when I fell at work and broke some bones

Remember when I fell at work Ohh, the things one finds when one moves from one house to another and is forced to clean out boxes and bags and files and such. Well, you all know how nitpicky insurance companies can be about how their forms are filled out. I found the forms I had to fill out for one of those nitpicky insurance companies when I fell. In the space where the company wanted to know the cause of the accident, I listed” poor planning.” The insurance company then sent a letter requesting me to be more specific. Since I kept the forms and the letter I will share the letter here with you. Dear Sirs, I am writing in reply to your request for additional information for block number nine of the accident reporting form. I listed “poor planning” as the cause of my accident and you requested me to be more explicit. I hope the following details will be sufficient. I am a decorator. The store where I work is being remodeled. On the day of my accident, I was working alone in the area of the warehouse where my merchandise is stored prior to being installed. Things were in a real mess and I, without thinking, and planning. began to sort and stack boxes. There were several boxes stacked on top of some cornice boards and while moving them I lost my balance and fell. I am what I is called a “heavy set” woman. (See my actual weight inbox #11 on the form.) As I fell, I grabbed at a heavy box trying to regain my balance. That didn’t work. When I landed I was wedged between the Cornice boards at the bottom and had a heavy box on top of me. My arm was pinned between the boards but with the other I managed to push the box, but in the process a disk in my neck ruptured sending excruciating pain racing down the arm that wasn’t pinned. The box moved but only far enough to put just the right additional pressure on my leg to cause a fracture halfway up between the knee and an ankle. Let me tell you, that caused me to scream! But a warehouse worker came to see what caused the scream he flung the door open, the door hit the ends of the cornice boards driving them into my ribs. Thank the Lord only four were broken! The rest were only badly bruised when the door hit the cornice boards and moved them the heavy box fell. A blessing For me it didn’t land on the leg that was already broken but on the other one. That is how that leg was fractured above the knee. The warehouse guy went to call for an ambulance but when it arrived the EMTS couldn’t figure out how to get me out of such a tight space. (See block #11) they finally lifted the heavy boxes but that made the cornice board spring back so hard the arm which had been pinned snapped the bone above the elbow, it was at this juncture I fainted. Therefore, I’m unable to account for the large splinter the Doctor removed from my derriere or from the two broken fingers and lacerated ear when I asked the warehouse man he just said, you don’t want to know. I sincerely hope this letter clears up all your questions about the answer “poor planning” I listed as the reason for my accident. Yurs truly, Arna Dale McMasters

#memories #humor #work

[spenciegoob]

The Fifteenth

A/N: I’m so sorry in advance.

Pairing: Spencer!POV x Fem!Reader

Category: Angst/Fluff

Content Warning: death of a major character, talk of drug abuse, mentions of blood/cases (usual criminal minds terminology), mentions of panic attack/depression

Masterlist

Word Count: 2,163

____

As I sat down with the woman that made me feel whole, I felt the familiar serenity of her presence fill my senses even as the rain around us poured down in sheets. The pressure felt like sharp, cold glass sinking into my skin, but with her in front of me, I couldn’t find myself to care because her warmth held me like it was always meant to do.

“Hi, sweet girl. Do you remember the day you told me I was your world for the first time? I think about it everyday. I wish I could go back and just-”

She laid her head on my bare chest, her hair spreading out to tickle my sides, and her arms tucked securely around my back. Usually, a position so intimate would cause me a great deal of discomfort, but with her it felt natural; peaceful; perfect.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” She asked out of the blue. Even as a whisper, the question startled me. Before, in the moments of serene quiet, her breathing evened out, and I thought she was fast asleep. I was about to allow myself the relief of saying everything I couldn’t find the perfect words for when she was awake, looking at me with those loving eyes I fell in love with.

“I love you, too, Y/n.” But that answer did not satisfy her. She pulled her head from it’s previous position to look at me directly, and while I love to look at those eyes, the tears that welled there were gut twisting: soul crushing; heart wrenching.

“I mean it, Spence. You are my whole world.” A tear escaped when the words left her mouth, the ones that caused my own eyes to water, threatening to join hers.

I brushed my thumb across her cheek, catching the fallen drop before it finalized on my chest.

“And you are mine, sweet girl.”

“But what I meant to say was you’re not mine. Y/N, you are bigger than my world. You are the sun, the one that I rotate, the light that I need to survive, the power source that keeps me habitable.”

I had to clear my throat before continuing. 

“The first day I met you, you unknowingly saved my life, and to this day, I regret not telling you until now. It was the day I quit. I didn’t understand it then, how my mind changed so suddenly, but now I do. It was that smile, it was always that smile-”

I need a fix. Just one. It was one of the worst cases I’ve ever worked. I deserved a fix. I would say it was out of my control once I set that text message, but it was long before that. The second the jet landed my mind had been made, and once that happens, not even me could stop it. 

So I walked out of my apartment into the night that held too many unknowns, pulling myself further into my jacket and keeping my head down. I know that no one knew me to judge, but if I were to look at the very few strangers as they walked past me to live their own equally as destructive lives, I would’ve felt daggers piercing my skin instead of a needle that night.

But then I turned a corner, and from my position with locked eyes on the concrete, I could see a head come into my vision, hit my chest, and fall to the ground.

“Oh my g- I’m so sorry I wasn’t loo-” I had started to explain myself before a giggle interrupted my plan. I allowed my eyes to forget the laser vision on the sidewalk, and meet the eyes of the source.

My god was she beautiful. Her eyes so full, looking up at me from the hard ground with something that could only be described as pure, unadulterated joy. 

“It’s quite alright, I wanted to be on the ground tonight, anyway.” I titled my head, peculiar with the beautiful strange woman on the ground, but when she let out another giggle at my confusion, I couldn’t help but let out a breathy chuckle.

And then she held her hand up, silently asking for help from the position I so rudely shoved her into. While I would usually politely decline hand-to-hand contact, it didn’t feel right to refuse to help her stand after I all but tackled her.

So I took her hand, and the warmth generating from her in the cool night was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for so long.

When she regained her balance in front of me, she asked the question I least expected her to.

“I was just on my way to get coffee. Would you like to join me?”

“Wha.. I um- I’m a stranger on the street that just pushed you to the ground, and you’re asking if I want to get coffee?” When she nodded, I asked her another question, hoping to be able to teach her a lesson in stranger danger she so obviously lacked.

“How do you know I’m not a murderer?”

“With kind eyes like yours? I find that highly unlikely.”

“How could I say no to you? Y/N, you were my guardian angel that night. I didn’t look back when you linked your arm with mine, and led me to your favorite coffee shop. I still go there, you know? I don’t even have to order anymore, they just silently start making my coffee when I make my presence known-”

“Can I have an iced french vanilla with 3 pumps of liquid sugar?” She asked the barista Sam who had already started punching in her order before Y/N started speaking.

“What the hell did you just order?” I couldn’t stop the question from leaving my lips. Whatever concoction the barista was making was quite possibly the weirdest coffee order I’ve ever heard.

“Hey, Sam, can you make it two?” She ordered another instead of answering my question. “Trust me, stranger on the street. It’ll change your life.”

“Oh, um, my name’s Spencer by the way.”

“Well, stranger on the street named Spencer, I’m Y/N, and it looks like our coffee’s ready,” she said to me with the most beautiful smile. That smile can cause grown men to drop to their knees. Quite frankly, I almost did. She was the most peculiar and intriguing woman I had ever met.

She grabbed the two cold drinks and sat on one of the many different couches around the tiny shop. I just watched, my eyes following her lead without my control as she put me in a trance her presence induced.

“You coming?”

“Oh, uh, yeah sorry.” She only giggled as I quickly shuffled my way to her. We were the only people in the cafe, not surprisingly so as it was 10:42 pm on January 15th, a Tuesday night.

“You, Spencer, are infatuating.”

“Me? Why me?”

“It has to be something in those eyes.” We stared deeply at each other for what felt like an eternity, even if it was merely a second too long. She was the one to pull away as if she was done studying whatever she found. 

With a deep inhale, she shook her head and handed me my beverage.

“Allow me to change your life?” She asked like I wouldn’t let her if she continued to beam at me the way she did.

But instead of freaking her out and saying that, I took the coffee from her hand, and hesitantly took a sip.

It was so sickeningly sweet, like drinking melted candy with the amount of sugar to send someone into sugar shock. It was perfect.

She was perfect.

“When I first started showing up to work with a large iced coffee that was basically cream with a dash of coffee bean, I got weird looks. Derek even made a couple comments, but I didn’t care. It was a part of you you decided to share with a stranger that night. Eventually I told them the story, and now when I walk into the bullpen with the same coffee like clockwork, they give me solemn looks, but no comments.”

“The day you met them was one of the best days of my life, even if it was by accident-”

“Reid and Morgan, I want you two to go down to the dump site. The woman who found the body is there, I want you to interview her.” Hotch’s voice boomed. It was a local case, and while no case is the end goal, the locality was enough.

I got to go home to lay in her arms.

Derek and I drove to the site, bouncing off theories to each other to fill the time. When we got there, news vans had already taken up most of the space, and a sea of reported crowded behind the barricade. 

We shuffled our way through, avoiding eye contact and the “dire” questions from the press. When we made it to the front and flashed our badges, one of the officers led us to the body.

A prostitute in an alley. Easy profile, not so easy scene. There was major overkill, the blood from the body deep in the hallway trailed all the way to the sidewalk. It was only 7 am, my theory being a morning jogger found the trail and followed it to the horror show.

“Do we know where the person who found the body is?” I asked the officer who was next to me.

“We tried to ask her questions, but she got too worked up and couldn’t breathe. She’s on the back of the ambulance now I believe.” A panic attack.

It wasn’t uncommon for an unready participate in a criminal investigation to have a panic attack. Not everybody was made to see such things.

Derek and I made our way over to the ambulance when we started to hear a very heated argument.

“I AM FINE! There’s no reason for thi-”

“Y/N?” There she was, sitting in the ambulance, fighting with the EMT who was just trying to do his job. I don’t know who I felt bad for more in this situation. She knew how to win an argument, trust me.

“Oh Spence, thank god.” She quickly got up to crash her body into mine. I don’t think there was a speed that would be sufficient when it came to how quickly I squeezed her back. “It was so scary.”

Her body started to shake with tears she was probably holding in. She didn’t like to cry in front of me for the longest time, let alone hundreds of cops, reporters and pedestrians. 

“I know, sweet girl. I’m sorry you had to see that. I’m so sorry.” I ran my fingers through her hair. It aways calmed her down.

And it seemed to partially work, because she pulled her head from my chest to look up at me with wet cheeks and terrified eyes.

“I just... I was runni... She’s d-”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s over now, okay?” Slowly she nodded, her eyes trailing down to her feet. That was until Derek spoke up. In the midst of my concern, I had completely forgotten he was there.

“Uh... what?”

“Oh Derek, this is Y/N. My uh, my girlfriend. Y/N this is Derek.” She looked up to find my baffled coworker looking between me and her and smiled. Hey, his stupidity got her to smile!

“So you’re the lady’s man he tells me about?” Shit.

“Hey now wait a minu-”

“Maybe we should go back to Quantico. You’ll be safe, and we can ask you questions when you’re ready, yeah?” I had to deflect quick, but Derek would rip me a new one for this.

We all piled into the SUV. I got in the back knowing that she gets car sick back there ever since she was a little girl.

“So, you and Spencer, huh?” Maybe that was a mistake.

“They loved you so much. I loved you so much. I still love you so much. I miss you every day of my life, but it doesn’t hurt to think about you anymore. Life gave us all the time it could spare, and I am so grateful I literally ran into you that Tuesday night 8 years ago. Sometimes I hate my mind, my eidetic memory is a curse on it’s own, but when it comes to you? The memories we shared I will never forget are the ones that keep me fighting. You still keep me going, sweet girl. You always will.”

With that, I got up and placed the sunflowers on top of her headstone, brushing off the dirt and leaves that accumulated during the fall season.

The rain stopped pouring then, and the sun shone down on me. On us.

My sun.

____

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#spencer reid #spencer x y/n #spencer x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[tomtenadia]

A Little Braver  - Chapter 3

Here we are with ch. 3

This one has some action and i hope it’s even remotely believable. it has been a hard one to write.

There is a bit of development for our two idiots.

And well... Rowan loves to fuss....

Enjoy.

------

It was the following morning, and Rowan was in the car with Lorcan on their way to the fire station. They had decided not to call. He had a feeling that Aelin would have refused a meeting with him out of spite.

He parked the car on the street as the previous day and when he noticed smoke he realised they were probably having another drill. Shit, he should have called. She was busy with the performance review as well. 

“Is the building on fire?”

Rowan shook his head “they are training. The tower over there is used to run drills.”

They walked in the main yard and Rowan pulled Lorcan to the side in order not to distract the team.

The truck was in front of the tower and all the hoses were deployed and same for the ladder. One man, Nox if he remembered correctly was at the very top of it. Aedion looked in charge, Ansel was near the truck with a very nervous looking Luca and they both were in charge of the hoses and the water. The rest of the group was not there and Rowan assumed they were inside. She was inside.

“Where is your fierce Captain?”

“Inside.” Replied Rowan without removing his eyes from the scene in front of him. He looked up at the top of the ladder and felt sick. As a pilot he was used to altitudes but in a different way. And although the man at the top of it was fully harnessed he still felt queasy at the scene. Then his heart jumped when he noticed her. She appeared at the window with a dummy, a victim. She passed it to Nox on the ladder with an agility that impressed him, then she went over the window ledge and climbed down the ladder with swiftness. And he laughed. He had helped her climb off the small jet ladder not knowing that she was used to far worse. She kept surprising him. She jumped off the last two rungs of the ladder and ran to Aedion for probably an update. Her mask pulled on her head. 

He heard some radio chatter but did not manage to catch the message but guessed it was not good as Aelin sprinted into the building. A moment later Aedion shouted an order and he saw both Ansel and Luca concentrate the flow of water to another point of the building.

“I think the wind has shifted.” Muttered Rowan clenching his fists in a nervous gesture. Something had gone wrong.

Ren ran out of the building and both Lysandra and Elide ran to him when they saw him collapse exhausted on his knees after dropping off his dummy. A moment later he stood again sending the paramedics away.

How long had they been at it?

He turned to Lorcan and noticed that the man was staring at Elide with interest.

A moment later Aelin reappeared with a dummy on her shoulders, she dropped it on the ground in front of Aedion. Ress and Brullo followed a soon after with two more dummies and he saw Brullo lifting six fingers to Aelin. They still had six dummies to save and there were already four on the ground. The three disappeared again and his terror came back.

It was and half an hour later when the ten dummies were finally all out and Ress and Brullo had carried the last one but no sign of Aelin. Rowan moved a step closer.

Aedion called her over the radio but the silence was killing him. At the third call Ress pulled back on his equipment and dashed back into the building ignoring Aedion’s orders to stand down. When he was younger he did something like that. His wingman had got stuck with a jet on his tail and could not shake the enemy off while chasing another plane. Rowan had ignored his CO’s order to stand down and clear his share of foes, and went to give help to his mate. He caught one hell of a reprimand for that escapade of his.

He snapped back to reality when he heard an explosion ripple through the building and the fire flashed stronger for an instant. Everyone shouted apart from Aedion. Rowan wandered if that was part of the exercise as well.

“That was savage,” commented Lorcan.

Finally two figures appeared from the smoke. A badly limping Aelin was leaning against Ress. His heart stopped.

Lysandra and Elide ran to her and the three helped her to the ambulance.

“Do they always have an ambulance or only when they do drills?” Asked Lorcan following the scene in fascination.

“I did some research and apparently each firehouse has a set of EMTs as well. All firefighters are trained in basic medical emergencies help but they cannot concentrate on the medical side while helping with the emergency so if the call requires medical assistance like a fire or an accident, they are followed by an ambulance.” Rowan pointed to the two women “the taller of the two is Lysandra. She is the paramedic in charge. She is the senior one and the one making the medical decisions. The other one is Elide her partner.”

His tension lifted a bit when he saw Aelin standing, she removed her heavy jacket and took the water bottle Lysandra offered her.

She looked exhausted, there was no way she would have time for him.

Her head snapped in his direction as if she felt his stare in her.

With a heavy limp she made her way to him and Lorcan.

“Captain, Commodore.” She said with tired voice.

“That was one scary drill.” Confessed Rowan staring at her. Her face was covered in soot and her blue eyes stood out like beacons. Gods, even covered in soot she could take his breath away.

“Were you worried about me?” Challenge in her tone. She was definitely still mad at him.

“The explosion…”

Aelin turned to look at the training tower, now completely extinguished.

“That was calculated. It was meant to happen after a certain amount of time. Only Aedion and I usually know about these things. They are meant to keep us on our toes. The drill today should have finished well before the explosion. But a few things did not go as planned. But that’s how things go in a real fire.”

“You should sit.” He told her. She had limped all the way to him.

“I am fine, I had worse. I don’t need coddling.” She looked at him “why are you two here, by the way? I don’t remember getting in touch with you.” Her tone was harsh.

“It’s my fault, captain. I asked captain Whitethorn to take me here. I wanted to talk about some of the ideas you sent me yesterday by email.”

“I had to do so. Captain Whitethorn seems to have misplaced the materials I gave him. Quite rude of him, after I spent an afternoon working on it.”

Lorcan looked at Rowan as if to say, what did you do to piss her off so much.

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t do that anymore.”

Aelin glared at the captain “take your CO to my office and wait for me. I need to clean up.” And she limped away without giving the two men any more attention.

Rowan walked Lorcan to her office and the man slapped his neck “what the heck did you do? The woman is fucking furious with you.”

Rowan sat down on the chair and ignored Lorcan. 

“Do you know anything about the other EMT? Elide?”

Rowan’s head snapped in Lorcan’s direction at the comment “Are you kidding me?”

“She is cute.”

Rowan shook his head in disbelief.

“As if you don’t have the hots for the captain. You were nervous as hell while she was inside that inferno and only relaxed once she was out. And I have seen how you looked at her today. Have all the sex you want you two, just don’t fuck this up to satisfy your needs.”

Rowan stood and left the office. Once outside he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Lorcan was right. He had to keep it professional. No matter how he felt drawn to her. The project was far more important.

“Do you hate my office so much that you came outside for a nap?”

Rowan’s eyes snapped open. Aelin was in front of him. All clean and in her blue captain uniform. It was short sleeved and he noticed scars on her arms and other signs that clearly were burnt marks.

“Move your arse inside, sleeping beauty.”

Rowan peeled away from the wall and followed her inside and took back his place on the chair he had vacated.

“Sorry to keep you waiting Commodore. Had you phoned we could have arranged a convenient time. I don’t know if our esteemed captain had the good sense to tell you that we are due a performance review in three weeks and we are quite busy at the moment.”

“He did, but I was the one who had pushed. This visit was entirely my decision.”

“So I assume it’s important.”

Lorcan nodded “I have received a confirmation by my superiors that the works can go ahead. All of them.”

A huge smile appeared on Aelin’s face and Rowan almost melted at the sight.

Lorcan extracted a letter from inside his jacket “this is the budget I have been given for all the needs to be done.” He passed the letter to Aelin. 

She took it and smiled again “It seems like you begged quickly and pretty well.”

“I just explained to them the gravity of the situation and of what happened. I might have threatened them to call the press and reveal the real reason behind the fire. That made them listen.” He leaned back in his chair with a smug expression “such a scandal might reach the news, and then the government. If then the government caught whiff of how badly its budget was spent, well, let’s say the airforce might find itself with a lower budget at the next revision. And in my position I need to learn to play the political game as well. And I am quite goos at it.”

“As long as it got us the authorisations we needed I have no qualms on how you used your powers.”

“I hope the captain mentioned that if we get called for deployment we will have to drop all training. That’s why I was going to suggest if we can prioritise my pilots. So we know that it’s done. The ground staff stays behind so there is no urgency there.”

“I can’t see any problems in that, sir. Will you be joining us as well?”

“I thought I would, if you don’t mind.”

In his seat Rowan stared at the interaction and could not believe that Lorcan was actually charming her. He was speechless.

“Well, captain,” said Lorcan standing up “the captain and I will leave you in peace to rest. I apologise again for coming unannounced, I just felt it was something that had to be told in person.”

“I agree.” She stood shakily and Rowan almost jumped forward to grab her but she used the table to steady herself. She extended her hand and Lorcan returned the handshake. She gave him a smile and ignored Rowan altogether.

The two men left. She was about to sit down again when Rowan rushed back in her office.

“I am sorry, okay? I was trying to make a joke and I clearly failed. Humour has never been my stronger point. I am sorry. I had no intention to offend you.” He paced back and forth nervously. Aelin leaned against the desk heavily and stared at him.

“You are fierce, and fearless and I am in awe.” He fully turned to her, facing her “I don’t think for a second that you are a brat or a menace.”

Aelin finally put him out of his misery and smiled at him. Rowan sighed in relief.

“You are forgiven, captain.”

Rowan moved closer to her, going around the desk and sitting just beside where she was leaning “I think Lorcan has his eyes set on Elide.”

Aelin’s head snapped so fast that she lost balance and landed against him. Rowan’s arm flew around her to hold her in place “Easy.”

Aelin winced and she noticed Rowan’s worried gaze on her.

“You should really rest. Or at least sit down.”

Aelin nodded and sat down “so, tell me everything.”

Rowan sat back on the desk just in front of her “during your drill he spent the whole time staring at her. And while we waited for you, he asked me if I knew anything about her and admitted that he found her cute.” Rowan stopped “coming from Lorcan it’s very high praise.”

Aelin leaned back on the chair “he might be her type to be honest, but I need to investigate.”

She took out her phone from her pocket “give me your mobile number, Whitethorn.

He rattled out his number and she saved it under Pain in my arse.

“Hey,” he complained at the name.

“Until I find a better nickname.”

“What about my name?”

She shook her head “take it or leave it.”

As a protest he took his phone and changed her name from Captain Aelin to brat and showed it to her.

“Now we are even.”

Aelin grabbed his phone and changed her name “this is better.”

“My Queen?” He asked “high opinion of yourself I see?”

She giggled and a rebel lock of hair came loose and he almost reached to place it behind her ear but stopped himself. Boundaries. 

“I have a better one,” and took his phone back, typed something and showed it to her.

“Fireheart?”

“It’s perfect. You are a firefighter, when you are mad you are as scary as that fire out there today,” and he pointed at the tower in the yard “and you have a heart that burns with passion.”

Aelin stared at him incapable of saying anything. 

“My mum used to call me like that.” She admitted “exactly for the last same reason you said. She said that even as a toddler I always had my ideas clear and I was always a little passionate brat about what I loved.” She felt tears sting her eyes but she took a deep breath and stopped them from spilling. She could not cry in front of him “No one ever called me that apart from her. Not even Aedion knew about the nickname.” She looked away from him for a moment.

“I can go back to My Queen if this makes you sad.”

Aelin reached for the hand leaning on his knee and gently grabbed his fingers “No, please. I would love you to call me like that.” And the tears eventually came and Rowan did the only thing his instincts told him to do. He pulled to her in a hug and let her sob against his chest. While it lasted he enjoyed the feeling of her against him, his arms holding her and the smell of her enveloping him.

“I am sorry,” she said once she was done and pulled back “I had a long day and I am in a lot of pain.”

 He lowered his arms “you should go home.”

“No,” she shook her head “I have far too much stuff to do. I’ll just ask Lys to give me something for the pain. I will be okay tomorrow.”

“Ok,” he yielded “let me know when you are home. You have my number now. Just a text.”

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Please.” And before he knew it, his hand reached for the strand of hair and pulled behind her ear. He might have lingered a bit too long but she leaned into the touch and closed her eyes for a second.

Then they both jerked away from the contact.

“Sorry.” He stood “I should go, Lorcan is probably waiting for me.”

“Yeah… sure…” she felt a savage blush rise on her face.

Then he left.

Once he was out of the door, she grabbed her phone and texted Lysandra: girls meeting.

By the time she hobbled to the ambulance, she noticed that Lysandra, Elide and Ansel were already sitting in the back of the vehicle with their usual stash of chocolate biscuits.

She sat down and groaned in pain.

“You should go and get the leg checked. I am just a paramedic. If you injure yourself badly before the review the station will kill itself.” Commented Lysandra noticing the state of her friend.

“I will be fine.”

“Is this meeting about your hot captain friend?”

Aelin nodded.

Lysandra grabbed a biscuits “had sex yet? Is he good? He must be. He is probably a god in bed.”

“No,” shouted Aelin “and, do I need to remind you that you are in a committed relationship with Aedion?”

“I know. And I still love him. Nothing stops me from making the eyes wander and fantasise a bit.”

“Anyway, no to the first one and I have no idea about the second.”

“What’s stopping you?” Asked Ansel while picking the chocolate chips for her biscuits and eating them one at a time.

“The fact that I have known him for three days and that we spent the majority of them fighting?”

“Angry sex can be fun, and wild.” The woman grinned.

“The guy doesn’t even like me.” But her mind wondered back to the moment in her office, the hug and the hair. 

“The important question is how do you feel about him?” Asked Elide.

Aelin sighed “I don’t know.” She finally grabbed a biscuit “he is hot. So, so hot.” Aelin took a bite and used the time for munching to think about how she felt “I really don’t know how I feel about him.” She looked away “but the main problem is that I don’t think I am ready. I can’t get involved again with another man. Especially not with another one who does a dangerous job. Losing Sam almost broke me. I can’t go through that a second time.”

“So you are never going to date anymore?” Asked Ansel.

“No, I will just date a guy with a very boring job. Like an accountant.”

“That is not a guarantee that you will have a happy relationship. What if you spend five years with the guy, then he cheats on you because he got bored and breaks your heart?”

Lysandra had a point, damn it.

“Have you tried to show him that you were interested?” This time it was Elide.

“No, I was too busy shouting at him.”

“Less shouting and more shagging, darling.” Was Ansel’s suggestion.

Lysandra and Elide chuckled and Aelin rolled her eyes.

“Also, if Aelin doesn’t act on it can I? I don’t have airforce Captain in my list.”

“No!” Shouted the other three women in unison.

“His squadron will come here for training, you can take your pick.”

From the little bit she had seen about Fenrys she had a feeling that he and Ansel would get along like a house on fire.

“Speaking of pilots,” Aelin turned to Elide “did you notice the man with Captain Whitethorn today?”

“Oh my gods yes. The tall dark haired hot as hell man? Hell yeah.”

Aelin laughed. She knew the man was Elide’s type.

“He is Whitethorn’s CO. His boss. He was here to discuss some things about our project. Anyway…”

“A bird told me that he noticed you as well.”

She saw Elide blush savagely. 

“He is coming back when the squadron comes for training. We can set you up.”

“NO.” shouted Elide.

“Why?”

“You girls know my past. What happened in one of my foster families. Because of that I never had a boyfriend which means I never….”

The girls knew about her past. She had lost her parents when she was twelve. She was sent to foster care and eventually a family adopted her. However the family was not what she hoped. The father was abusive and violent toward his wife and eventually he turned his attention to her in the worst possible way. Because of that Elide had always struggled with men and never had a boyfriend.

“He is good looking but I don’t know anything about him. I can’t…”

Aelin hugged her friend “you don’t have to do anything that you don’t feel comfortable doing.”

Elide pulled back “I am thirty and I never had anything like what you had with Sam or what you have with Aedion and whatever Ansel does. I want to experience it so badly.”

“What if we help you?’ Suggested Lys.

“How?”

“I can investigate a bit more about Lorcan. I have an inside contact and if he is not worthy of you… well… we’ll find you a better candidate.”

Elide smiled.

“If he is worthy, and interested as Rowan affirmed, we can help you with what happens next.”

“We are going to be here for you.”

In that instant the dispatch alarm went off.

“Fuck it.” Said Ansel.

Both fire engine and ambulance were needed on the scene.

Aelin hobbled to Aedion “I am coming. I will not be inside. I will stay outside and direct the show. Just let me come.”

“As if I could stop you.”

When she struggled to get on the truck Aedion pushed her inside.

“Isn’t that the warehouse down at the river near the embankment?”

Aedion looked at the map “Shit. If the fire has spread to the embankment, that’s an area always full of people.”

“If the fire has spread we might have to call west station. They have two engines.” Added Ress.

“Speaking of which.” Continued Aedion “you are super buddy with Dorian, any chance we can get a budget boost to expand our station and get a second engine?”

“I have a meeting with him on Friday. He has been quite busy taking over his new job.”

They arrived at the scene five minutes later and it was far, far worse than expected.

The police had cordoned off a good part of the area, keeping people away.

Aelin got off the truck but almost ended on her knees when her left leg touched the ground. She hobbled behind Aedion. She called dispatch and asked to send west station to support them.

In the distance she spotted Chaol and joined him “what’s the situation?”

“Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“Chaol, what is the situation?”

“Alarm went off twenty minutes ago. Some witnesses reported an explosion and after that the fire had gotten worse. It seems out of control.” He continued “we had no idea if the warehouse was occupied. We evacuated the area and sent away all the passersby. We closed the embankment and the boats down the Florine have stopped for now.”

She patted him on the shoulder and walked away. Reached Aedion and recounted the situation to him “The explosion makes me think the worst. You are our explosive expert.”

Aedion nodded.

“Be safe, please.”

In that instant Aelin got a confirmation from dispatch that west Station was on its way with the two engines and another ambulance “Lieutenant, Captain, come in.”

“Aedion, go ahead.”

“Dispatch confirmed west is coming with two units. We got your back.”

“Copy that, captain.”

Then she turned to Lys and Elide “West is coming with an ambulance as well.”

All of a sudden an explosion rocked the sky and when Aelin lifted her eyes she discovered in horror that the fire had now spread to the attached warehouse.

“Fuck, fuck and fuck.”

They heard people screaming and running away from the building on fire.

“Chaol, I need crowd control,” she shouted to the policeman.

He nodded and took a few guys with him to help.

West arrived a few minutes later.

Thomas, the tall blonde captain of the station walked to her quickly “what are you doing outside?”

“Leg injury. I am directing the show.”

“This does not look pretty.”

Aelin shook her head “two explosions, two buildings involved.” She pointed at them “the second one went up just before you got here. Police is on crowd control and embankment is closed and empty.”

“Where do you want us?”

“Take one full team in the second building with you.” She ordered “then split the second team. Send some men in with my team and take the remaining with you. Have one engine with water on the second warehouse and send the other one here. The fire in this one if far worse.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Thomas, be safe.”

He winked at her and ran back to his teams to give instruction on how to proceed.

“Lieutenant, captain west is here. Backup should be in in a few minutes.”

“Copy that.”

“Any updates?”

The radio crackled for a moment “this is a warehouse for the river boats. There is wood everywhere and I can smell solvents.”

Aelin swore. Of course. They would paint and more to treat the boats. 

“Aelin, Thomas.”

“Give me good news, please. It’s hell in here.”

“Be careful moving around. Chances your warehouse belongs to the embankment as well. Aedion smelled solvents.”

Aelin heard Thomas curse over the radio “exactly my feeling.”

Her phone in her pocket went off and when she saw it was Rowan she cursed. What did he want?

“Not now, captain. I am in the middle of something.” And she hang up.

With the corner of her eyes she noticed Lys, Elide and the other paramedics running to help some of the injured.

“Lys,” she called “do you need more units?”

“We don’t know yet.

“Aedion, captain,”

“Go ahead.”

“Tell the trucks to intensify the water. It’s an inferno in here. I found an entire room full of turpentine. This was a goner. But I definitely smelled it. I found another room — “ the conversation cut off and another explosion happened.

“Aedion come in.”

Silence over the radio.

“Aedion, anyone form east come in.”

Damn.

“Thomas, Captain.”

“I heard. We found two closed rooms but we did not opened them. It stinks of turpentine here as well. Evacuating now and trying to take as many civilians as possible with us.”

“Aedion come in, please.” Panic was starting to rise in her voice as well.

“East team report in.”

Thomas was at her side a moment later “The fire in the second building will be under control soon, but it looks like the first building is in pretty bad shape.”

“How long will it take for stations outside Orynth to send help?”

He heart sank when Thomas shook his head.

“Three trucks are not enough for this inferno.”

Then she had an idea. She grabbed her phone and called Rowan. He answered at the first ring.

“Whitethorn shut up and listen to me. I need a favour, a big one. I am down at the embankment. It’s an inferno down here. Three trucks are not enough. We need air support. I need to get you arse in action and find a way to give us enough helicopters to fly over us and dump water on the fires. And I need it yesterday.”

“Copy that.” A pause “are you safe?”

“Yeah.” She looked at the fire “don’t let me down.”

He hung up the phone and she hoped he could pull a trick to save them all.

“I am going in,” said Thomas “ I’ll take my team. We need to try.”

“Find them, please.”

He patted her shoulder and went to gather his men and went back inside.

The pain in her leg had reached unbearable levels and she felt as if she could pass out.

“Are you okay?” Asked Ren noticing her in pain.

“Don’t worry about me. Worry about the water.”

“Thomas, remember not to open any doors. You risk giving turpentine more oxygen.”

“We found some factory workers, Ansel is taking them out.”

“I’ll have EMTs ready.’

She was turning to go to Lysandra when she found herself face to face with reporters.

“Are you in charge? Can you give us an update?”

Aelin counted till ten to avoid punching the bastards “This is a restricted area, I need to ask you to move away.”

Luckily in that instant Chaol ran there and took the reporters away and pushed them behind the cordoned off area.

“Thanks.”

“This is terrifying.”

“Thanks for the support you guys.”

“I love pushing away reporters. Such a fun job. You do your magic. I will keep an eye on them.”

Ansel cam out in that instant, a man on her shoulder a woman holding onto her and two more following her “Lys, I need you here.”

“We need help.” Said the woman.

Aelin nodded and called dispatch straight away and asked for more ambulances.

“ETA 5 minutes.”

Her phone went off again. Dorian. Damn.

“Hi sexy.”

“I just saw on the news. I am on my way back. How the situation?”

Aelin sighed “bad, multiple explosion in two boat warehouses down at the embankment. There are injured workers. West is here as well and the police has blocked off the whole perimeter and is doing crowd control. I have the airforce on its way for help with aerial support, hopefully.”

“Keep me updated. I should be there in five.”

Once she closed the conversation she noticed the text from Rowan we are coming.

Gods she could kiss the man.

“Thomas, Captain.”

“Go ahead, Cap.”

“Hold on a bit longer. Aerial support is coming.”

“Best fucking news since this hell has started.”

Five minutes later she saw Dorian in the distance and started walking toward him but half way through her leg gave up and she collapsed on the ground. The man was at her side in an instant and helped her up.

“You are injured.”

“Not important,” she breathed through gritted teeth.

“How long has it been?” Asked Dorian staring at the inferno all around them.

“It’s been almost an hour.”

“We are now at risk of collapse, you know that?”

Aelin nodded.

“I need to do something.” And he ran to his car and grabbed his gear and started getting ready.

Aelin walked to him “Dorian, you can’t. You are the chief.”

“I am a firefighter first and foremost. My rank, just now has very little use. You are doing an amazing job out here. I am needed inside.”

She put a hand on his shoulder “Be careful. They have found large quantities of turpentine.”

“I’ll be okay.” And he kissed her head and then walked away.

She could not stare at him go inside the building as well. She and Dorian had an interesting history. When she was still a probie she had served under him when he was captain. He had fallen in love with her but she always considered him as a great friend. Then she moved to east station and she told him that she did not reciprocate the feelings. He was a wonderful man. But for her he had always been a friend.

Brullo and Ress came out bringing more people.

Brullo shook his head in silence and she knew he meant they hadn’t found Aedion yet.

In that instant a loud noise shook the sky and Aelin looked up and saw two massive planes fly above their heads. They were the types of planes used to fight fires from the air. She had seen them in action during some forest fires. One of them made a pass over the second building and dumped all the water extinguishing the fire. The second one flew over the first warehouse, but one pass was not enough. She saw the plane head for the river and scoop up more water. 

“Thomas, Captain, do you hear the sound?”

“Yeah, what is that? The shockwaves are making the place vibrate.”

“That is the TAF. They are dumping water on the buildings. They are back coming for you. Hell should be over soon. Also, Dorian is on his way in.”

The conversation cut of as well and Aelin feared the worst.

With another three passes the fire was under control.

Aelin went to grab the hose from Luca and walked closer “Ren, follow me.”

They got closer to the building and started directing water inside the building and extinguish the last small fires still burning.

Aelin looked up as she heard the planes making another pass above their heads and smiled.

She owed Rowan a big one.

Aelin almost dropped the hose when she saw Dorian carrying out an injured Aedion.

“Lys,” shouted Aelin and when the woman noticed her man she ran to him and helped Dorian to carry him to the ambulance.

One of the guys from west station who was working in the second warehouse came to her and reported the fire completely extinguished and all civilians evacuated and safe. Aelin sighed in relief. 

Ten minutes later the rest of her team, followed by Thomas and the remaining team west finally came out of the building and Aelin breathed again. Everyone was safe. Thomas came behind her and took the hose from her “I’ll have this. Go to your team.”

“Thank you,” she told him and limped heavily to her team and they hugged each other in relief.

Then they all went to the ambulance to check on Aedion. He was sitting on the gurney with an oxygen mask on his face.

“We are taking him to the hospital for checks. I will keep you posted.” Lysandra’s stare was on Aelin “you should come with us as well.”

“Just give me some painkillers and I will be fine.”

Lysandra was not convinced but handed her a tablet.

Aelin shut the door of the vehicle and pulled back.

Dorian was at her side a moment later “you and I should go and talk to the press.”

“Shouldn’t that be your job as chief? You love the attention.”

“Ah yes, but you know more details than me.”

Aelin growled “fine.”

It was almost an hour later when they finally managed to collect their stuff, tuck the equipment away and finally be on their way back to the station. The sun had started to set and Aelin thought she was ready for bed. 

Lysandra texted her saying that they were keeping Aedion in for the night just as precaution, but that he was fine.”

“Lys says Aedion is fine. They are keeping him in tonight for precaution but he is okay. No serious injuries apart from bruises and cuts.”

Relief spread through the truck.

Once they arrived at the station they noticed the lights on and a few unknown cars parked at the front.

Aelin jumped off the truck and regretted it immediately. With extreme difficulty she dragged herself inside the station and then was speechless at what she saw.

Rowan’s squadron, Lorcan included, had prepared dinner for them. 

Rowan saw her walking in and did not like what he saw. Her limp had worsened. He stared at her, happy to know that she was  alive. When he had heard on the news about the raging fire down at the river he had been terrified. It looked very bad from the video footage, but only by flying over it he had realised just how an impossible task they had.

She moved a step toward him and a second later she was in his arms as her leg gave up and she almost crashed on the floor.

“I got you.” He said to her while lifting her up in his arms and carrying her to the sofa.

In that instant the rest of the team entered the kitchen and screams of joy at the sight of the food erupted from all of them.

Rowan stood “we thought that we would prepare a nice meal for your return. It seemed like you would be needing it.”

“Thank you all,” said Aelin on behalf of her squad.

Everyone sat at the table and began to tuck in.

Elide glanced over at Lorcan and noticed that the man was staring at her as well. Quickly she looked away and went back to her food.

Rowan sat beside Aelin and brought her some food “I can get you more.”

Then he grabbed her injured leg and lifted it on the table. She winched the whole time he moved it.

Rowan moved to sit on the coffee table in front of them, placed her foot on his lap and proceeded to remove her boot. Then lifted her trouser’s leg and once the knee was exposed they both gasped. It was purple and visibly swollen “why are you walking on it?”

“I had no idea it was this bad.”

“You can barely walk, of course it’s bad,” he said annoyed.

“Are you fussing?”

“No, I am just making sure that you don’t do any more stupid things.”

“Can we please go to the hospital after I ate my dinner?”

“Fine.” He very gently placed her foot on the coffee table and stood. When he came back he had an icepack in his hands.

The main table was a bit of a distance and they had a bit of privacy.

He sat down again and put her foot again on his lap then placed the ice pack on her knee and Aelin swore. It hurt like hell. She threw her head against the back of the sofa and breathed in deeply. 

“Thank you for tonight. My squad and west station are alive because of your help. I owe you one.”

“It was the least I could do.”

“How did you pull it off?”

“Lorcan. He has some well connected friends. Once I told what was happening, he started making phone calls and we got everything organised.”

She kept eating and noticed that his thumb was gently brushing her skin while his hand held the ice pack in place.

“Have you noticed that Lorcan and Elide keep looking at each other while the other is not looking?”

“I did. Is she interested?”

Aelin nodded “she is into him apparently but Elide is very shy. I need to be sure that he has no plan to use her for a fling only and let her go. For many reason that I can’t tell you. But if Lorcan behaves like a pig, he will have to deal with me, Lys and Ansel. You’d better pass the message along.”

“Will do.”

Once Aelin was done eating, Rowan took all the plates and took them to the dishwasher “Come on now, you and I are going to the hospital.”

He crouched and turned to offer her a piggyback ride but she scoffed “You are not carrying me.”

“Fine, then you walk to my car. Be my guest.”

Aelin groaned and pulled herself in a standing position but as she straightened the knee again, the pain brought her on the verge of tears.

Rowan went to the team and explained that he was dragging Aelin to the hospital and he got the team approval. By the time he had spoken with them, Aelin had barely made it past the sofa.

In one fell swoop he lifted her in his arms “I don’t care, now stop complaining.”

Aelin did not protest and leaned against his chest.

TAG:

@rowaelinismyotp

@jlinez

#rowan whitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #Lysandra #elide lochan #fanfic #Throne of Glass series

[frecklesandstardust]

Let’s Talk About Klaus

Hi, friends. The Umbrella Academy’s second season came out recently. I finished it about twelve hours after. And I have feelings. We need to talk about Klaus. 

Now, here is my disclaimer. From the very first moment I saw him, Klaus was my favorite, but please read to the end before yelling about how Klaus-stans refuse to see his negative qualities. Thank you <3 (Also, this will involve spoilers for Season 2 and probably be an essay, so be prepared.)

Okay, first of all. Let’s look at Season 1 Klaus. 

He’s an asshole. Just like all of his siblings. They were raised by a narcissistic egomaniac and given hero complexes from pretty much the second they were born. Obviously they all lack empathy and healthy coping mechanisms. We can all agree on that. 

However, Klaus is also kind. So unbelievably kind. He makes crass jokes and looks out for himself first, but he is also so caring. 

When we first see him, he is encouraging people in rehab. He has a rapport with the EMT who brings him back to life. He hugs Allison as soon as he sees her at the mansion and seems genuinely concerned about her and her life. When the giant portal opens, he grabs a fire extinguisher and runs to the front to try and protect his siblings. Siblings who essentially ignored and belittled him for years. 

Fast forward and we see him helping Diego and Five and Luther. We see him caring, sincerely caring about his siblings. He breaks a snowglobe over his head to help Five get the answers he needs. He follows Luther to a rave and dies trying to save his life, even though he’s riddled with PTSD and freshly sober. We see him try so fucking hard to not give out any information about Five when he’s being literally tortured by assassins. He saves Diego from Hazel and Cha-Cha at the hotel, even though he could have stayed safe in the car. He risked his life to save a brother who didn’t even notice he had been kidnapped. 

We watch him die. We watch him get locked in a museum by his father figure and tortured by his abilities. We watch him be traumatized over and over again by ghosts that look just as gruesome as the day they died. We watch him be hurt and kidnapped. We watch him get thrust into a literal war, where he lost his soulmate after staying and fighting for ten months because he was just that in love with Dave. 

Out of every character, Klaus clearly has the most trauma. This isn't even including the fact that he was homeless for years and alluded to non-consensual sexual situations. Ergo, trading sex for a place to sleep and things like that. I am personally of the belief that Reggie was the reason Klaus broke his jaw, which Diego talks about in S1, but that’s my own opinion. 

Looking at all of that, Klaus has PTSD out the whazoo. Like, he is filled to the brim with trauma and no one cares enough to ask or help him. Five sees him after Dave dies and only cares about the briefcase. Diego hears that he lost someone and has the absolute audacity to call Klaus “lucky” because at least he can see them whenever he wants. Not one of his siblings understands Klaus’s powers and that’s terrifying because he had to deal with screaming, tormented ghosts completely by himself. Imagine that. Powers that you can’t control eating you alive and the only thing that helps dim the noise is drugs. 

And your family doesn’t care enough to ask. They just write you off as a useless junkie. 

Now, like I mentioned earlier, Klaus is not an innocent quote unquote soft boi. He is inherently selfish. But, he had to be. He had to be selfish in order to survive. He was on the streets. Alone. If he wasn’t selfish, he would have been dead ten times over. 

He stole things. He lied. He hurt people. He was an asshole. Just like they all were. 

But he was never cruel. 

His relationship with Ben in the first season was pretty awesome. We get to see the snark and the familiarity and the bond between them. And it makes sense, to some extent, why Ben is constantly trying to get Klaus to be better. If Klaus hasn’t seen his siblings for years, neither has Ben. I genuinely think Ben wanted to believe that they had changed. He wanted his siblings to be good, decent people. 

That’s why he told Klaus to go after Luther. Why he told him that his family would notice he was missing when he get kidnapped by Cha-Cha and Hazel. 

But it does not excuse the fact that Ben never apologized. He was wrong and he never said sorry for it. He inadvertently got Klaus killed and he never admitted that he made a mistake. 

He was there for so much of Klaus’s trauma and he just brushed it off. We never see Ben try to be there for Klaus or try to help him come to terms with everything. Ben can see the other ghosts. He knows that they’re terrifying and that Klaus’s powers are completely haywire. Why doesn’t he acknowledge that? 

Let’s move on to Season 2. 

For some reason, all of Klaus’s character development has been tossed out the window. He is a wildcard with no plot line to follow. He says random things and seems to act as comedic relief for the most part, except it rarely works.

For starters, his powers are completely gone, for the most part. We see him in a brief opening scene absolutely kicking ass with his ghost army. But, after that, we don’t see any ghost except Ben. We don’t see him learning to control his powers or talking to ghosts. We don’t even hear about his powers. It’s like they’ve been erased. 

That kind of trauma doesn’t go away. Especially when we find out he has been sober for three years. 

I’ve seen some people argue that he traded addictions. Swapped the drugs for the cult and the adoration that came with it. I don’t agree to that for a few reasons. 

First, he is very clearly uncomfortable with the cult touching him. And we see in the flashback that it happened completely by accident. Klaus was, again, trying to survive. Was it selfish? Yeah. Did he use that old woman to shamelessly find a place in a world he’s not supposed to exist in? Yeah! But, like I stated earlier, Klaus knows how to survive. He knows what to do to get by. All he is doing is trying to survive. Ben can scream all he wants about fairness, but he wasn’t offering up any options to get Klaus a place to sleep and a way to survive in the past. 

Second, we don’t know how the cult came about exactly. We don’t know what started it. We don’t know how it spiraled from whatever it started as into a cult. And Klaus hates it. He spends the entire season trying to get away from everyone. He used it as a means to survive and then wanted space. His entire plan was to get to 1963 and save Dave--probably from the start of 1960, to be honest. But to get to Dave, he had to survive. He had to get to a place where saving Dave was possible. He can’t save him if he’s dead or homeless. 

Third, Klaus very openly is touch-starved and desperate for attention. He spent his childhood being overlooked and his adulthood being treated like a disease. He just wants someone to take him seriously and care about him. The cult does. They love him for who he is, for his weird humor and mannerisms. They believe him when he talks. He’s never had that before, not since Dave. 

He finally has a group of people that genuinely care about what he has to say. Even if it’s all bullshit! They still listen to him. So, of course he sticks around. Of course he lets it grow. He thinks everyone he loves is dead! He’s holding onto the only thing he can. It just happens to be a cult. 

Next point: Ben. 

Ooh boy, this is gonna be a long one.

Ben is also not a soft boi. One tender scene with Vanya does not undo an entire season of cruelty and callousness. 

Before we get into that, let’s talk about the point everyone brings up: Klaus didn’t tell anyone Ben was there! 

Why should he? They never believed him the first thousand times he tried to tell them. What makes it any different fifty years in the past? 

But aside from that, I have two theories. 

One, I’m curious as to if he was subconsciously trying to punish Ben. Ben essentially got him killed at the rave with Luther. He also never apologized, as I mentioned earlier. He blows Klaus off, just like the rest of his siblings, even though, out of anyone, Ben should know better. From the very beginning of S2, Ben is saying some pretty nasty stuff to Klaus. Low blows that shouldn’t be brought up. If that’s been happening for 3+ years, it’s possible that Klaus internally is punishing Ben for being just like the others. 

Second, he’s scared of losing Ben. It’s been 17 years of only having Ben by his side. Constantly. And we know Klaus has watched the love of his life bleed out right in front of him. That’s PTSD. And PTSD doesn’t exactly involve healthy coping methods. So, it’s entirely possible that Klaus doesn’t saying anything about Ben being there because he is scared to lose him to his siblings. If Ben is corporeal, if they know Ben is there, what’s stopping Ben from leaving to go spend all his time with someone else? Someone that isn’t Klaus? Klaus could be trying to protect himself from losing another person. 

Does that make it okay for Klaus to hide the fact that Ben is there? No. But does it kind of make sense? Yeah. Ben deserved to reconnect with his family, but Klaus is traumatized beyond belief and clearly isn’t in the right state to make sound and logical decisions all the time. If we can forgive Five for murdering the Commission Board in cold blood and Vanya for blowing up the world twice, we can forgive Klaus for keeping Ben’s existence to himself (especially since he tried to tell them in S1 and was immediately written off as an attention whore.)

Now, let’s talk about the possession, aka my least favorite thing about the entire season. 

Ben possessing Klaus is assault. End of story. Non-negotiable. It’s not funny. It’s not cute. It’s not “payback.” It’s assault. 

We know that Klaus is terrified by his powers. We know that he has trauma in his past, involving non-consensual experiences. So does Ben. Worse, Ben was there for a lot of it. 

Ben flat out ignored Klaus’s discomfort for his own selfish gain. He was so hellbent on possessing Klaus that he ignored the fact that Klaus was terrified to go to sleep because he knew Ben would possess him without consent. 

And let’s acknowledge the fact that Klaus doesn’t owe Ben anything. He has no obligation to let himself be possessed. Ben is dead. And that’s horrible. It’s unfair and Ben did not deserve to die. But he. is. dead. The dead do not get free access to the bodies of the living just because they want to feel things again. 

Ben completely disregarded Klaus’s feelings because he had a crush on a girl who didn’t even know he existed. Klaus, who willingly accepted possession the second he realized it was important to Ben. Klaus, who laid out strict ground rules, showing he was clearly terrified of the idea, but still did it anyway because he loves his brother and harbors guilt for conjuring him the day of Ben’s funeral. Klaus, who had just been brushed off after failing to stop Dave from enlisting.

Ben possesses him and almost immediately starts to make out with a girl who thinks he is Klaus. That is sexual assault. If I have a twin sister and that twin sister sleeps with my husband, who believes she is me, then she has raped him. That is rape. 

Ben doing anything physical with that girl, who clearly showed that she was interested in Klaus, is sexual assault. She did not consent to sleep with Ben. She consented to sleep with Klaus, who was trying his best to break the possession and stop the entire thing from happening. 

And Ben fought him on it. We see them struggle in Klaus’s body for the next several minutes. Ben doesn’t care that Klaus is clearly uncomfortable, that Klaus wants him out. He selfishly wants to stay in control because of his own desires. He ignores Klaus’s rules and does what he wants without considering the consequences. 

This is the third time that Ben has used possession to control Klaus. We see it when they are fighting earlier in the season at the cult mansion. We see it again at the dinner with Reginald. We see Klaus essentially have a seizure (and we see none of his family members ask if he is okay. They just roll their eyes.) We see Klaus literally vomit once he forces Ben out of him in that alley with Five and Luther. Still, no one asks if he is okay. 

Worse than that, Ben says that he no regrets. And then reiterates the statement! Ben assaulted his brother and does not give a flying fuck. That’s crueler than anything Klaus has ever done. I would argue that it’s the cruelest thing any of the Hargreeves have done, to be honest. 

It doesn’t matter how much of an asshole Klaus is or how selfish or how flamboyant. His consent still matters. His boundaries are just as important. 

Overall, this season just gave Klaus more trauma while still leaving his PTSD and mental illness completely unaddressed. They essentially removed his powers and took away his bond with Ben. Like, in the first season, Ben is almost always with Klaus. That is Klaus’s power, after all. In the second season, Klaus’s entire arc is without Ben. All of his missions are without Ben present. 

There is absolutely no fucking way that Klaus wouldn't bring Ben with him to get tacos with Vanya and Allison. He loves Ben, more than anyone. We see that constantly in the first season, outside of a few mishaps. 

I love Ben. I genuinely love Ben and his story in the first season. But in S2, they took him and twisted him into a callous thing with no respect for consent or his brother. If those three years with Klaus in 1960 were anywhere near as bad as what we see in 1963, I can see why Klaus wouldn’t want Ben around his family. 

I was supposed to love Ben and cry for him. And don’t get me wrong, I did. I cried a lot in the last episode. But that scene with Vanya? Where he tells her she’s not a monster and that they should have done better and that they could help her control her powers? That’s the exact same damn speech he should have told Klaus. Vanya’s destruction was always outward. It always cost millions of people their lives. Klaus’s was inward. So why does Vanya deserve the help and love and support while Klaus gets tossed aside?

They both needed a family and only one of them got it this season. Sure, Allison and Klaus had some great scenes together. But she didn’t ask if he was okay when Ben possessed him at dinner. She didn’t check on him. 

Klaus deserved better. He deserved to work through is trauma and to have a family that takes care of him and supports him and helps him figure out how to deal with the ghosts. He deserved to control his own body and to say no when Ben wanted to possess him. He deserved a goddamn hug. 

Klaus was inherently selfish. However, he also gave up everything. He sacrificed his entire relationship with Dave to try and save his life. If he had succeeded, if Dave had never enlisted, they never would have met. They never would have fallen in love. Dave would never remember being with him. He nearly gave that up to protect the love of his life. 

Klaus is not perfect. He’s an asshole at best sometimes. But he’s also kind and compassionate and loves harder than every other character on that show. He deserved better. 

This has turned into a massive essay, but the bottom line is that S2 let Klaus and Ben down. So many things were handled poorly--from consent to mental illness. It could have been great. It could have been an opportunity to fix a lot of the mistakes made in the first season. Ben and Klaus could have talked everything out and figured out the ghosts and the war and the trauma together. They were never given that chance. 

There were so many good parts of this season, but the bad parts were so bad that it tainted the rest. I know the writers could have done better. They did it with Luther and Allison! They made their characters great this season and showcased some amazing relationships between the siblings. I’m confused as to how they let Klaus and Ben fall through the cracks so heavily. 

#tua #The Umbrella Academy #klaus #klaus hargreeves #reginald hargreeves #s2 #tua spoilers #spoilers #dave #ben hargreeves

[prettywordsyouleft]

MonX Hospital | Wonho

Pairing: Lee Hoseok x reader

Genre: paramedic – hospital au / co-workers to lovers

Warnings: naturally given the au of an EMT/paramedic there are more than one reference to accidents, a death and medical terms. Also there is a small fight, kind of a one-night stand but not and I wrote Y/N as on the shorter side, sorry if this offends taller readers.

Word count: 3525

Index: Shownu | Wonho | Minhyuk | Kihyun | Hyungwon | Jooheon | Changkyun

“Hey short stuff!” Hoseok greeted fondly and you rolled your eyes, looking over your shoulder briefly before turning back to cabinets you were stocking.

“You know, if you keep using that term, all the others are never going to stop teasing me for being the shortest here on the force.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it! Great things come in small packages.”

Your gaze fell directly to his loins and smirked. “Do they just?”

“Y/N!” Hoseok warned with a hearty chuckle, helping you with your final gear check in the back of the ambulance.

Truth be told, he liked that he got a rise out of you most days. Hoseok had been in the paramedic industry for four years now and out of all his co-workers he had been paired up with, you were definitely the most compatible. You made the long hours worth it, with the endless banter and the equally deep and thoughtful moments too. Working in such a high-stress, life or death environment was never easy to navigate but you had become a well-oiled machine together. Some of his greatest accomplishments had been at your side.

“Ready to go?” you questioned and Hoseok nodded, climbing into the driver’s seat of the vehicle and moving out of the parking lot. Every day was different on the job. Sometimes he spent more time in the office than behind the wheel, not being on the active dispatch team. Today, however, you were on the road, waiting to be called towards jobs that needed their assistance.

You wound down the window and placed your arm on the doorframe. “It’s too nice of a day to be cooped up in here.”

“You say that every day it’s sunny.”

“The sun will be gone soon and replaced with a busy Friday night, I bet you.”

“How much?”

“You’re willing to give me your money so freely?” you teased and Hoseok shrugged. “Twenty bucks that we only deal with drunk people.”

“Alright, the same if we have at least one sober patient.”

It wasn’t the most ideal thing to be waging on what type of work you would have for the night, but it kept it interesting.

And it made you delighted knowing he had to pay up at the end of the shift. “Oooh, we’ve been around so many intoxicated people tonight I think we’re starting to smell like a brewery!”

“You’re not funny,” Hoseok replied as he pulled out his wallet and handed you the money. You grinned and waved it around, doing a little dance alongside it. “What’s fair is fair.”

“You really do like giving your money away,” you stated, giving him a wink before going into the female changing rooms.

Hoseok waited for you to return out of uniform and jangled his keys. “Want a lift home?”

“You just like driving me around, don’t you?”

“I’m used to it, it’s not often you’re behind the wheel because-”

“Finish that sentence, I dare you,” you implored and Hoseok shrugged playfully, leaping away from your frustrated swipe in his direction. Chasing him out to his car, you just missed your chance to catch him when he slipped inside the driver’s side. Sighing and stalking around the vehicle, you slumped into your seat.

“Buckle up for safety!” he reminded as he turned the car on and you shot him an exasperated look. “Hey, everyone of any height needs to keep safe in a moving vehicle.”

“One day I’m going to get you so good and you’re going to regret every quip you’ve said to me.”

You managed to have him whining two days later before your shift, winning an arm wrestle against him twice. “It’s impossible!”

“Why, because your muscles are huge and mine aren’t? It’s called having a good strategy, you should look it up.”

Ducking his head as the other teammates in the break room laughed at his second defeat, Hoseok dived on the dispatch radio that went off on the table. “Let’s go, Y/N. I’ll show you just how good I am at my job instead.”

After attending a three-car pile up, thankfully all with minor injuries and only transferring one patient to the hospital for follow-up treatment, Hoseok glanced at you instead of pulling out of the ambulance bay.

You gave him a quizzical look. “What?”

“You did really well on that elderly woman’s treatment.”

“What are you talking about?” you muttered, picking up the tablet from its stand to log in more details of the event and close the report. “I just did my job, like you.”

“It seemed as if you got that leg injury stabilised before I was finished dressing the second car’s passenger though.”

“Did I?” You stopped tapping on the device’s keyboard and thought for a moment. “I guess I was efficient.”

“You’re a good partner to have in an emergency, Y/N.”

“What’s with all the praises, still upset about me winning earlier and trying to win me over now?”

“No,” he replied genuinely, and then frowned, trying to search for a reason for his compliment. When he started speaking, he hadn’t felt he needed one. But now, as he continued to look for an answer, he felt hot under his collar. Why were you affecting him today?

You looked at him and then smiled gently. “Thank you. I’ve learned from the best.”

“Me?”

“Chief Jung,” you corrected with a laugh and Hoseok groaned, leaping on another dispatched call and answering that they would take it.

The unease Hoseok was feeling towards you was fleeting and within a week it was back to the same constant bickering and comfortable nature you shared. The rapport you had together only strengthened after being faced with a fatal incident as well. It was never easy to be carrying someone in the back on a gurney headed for the mortuary, and the sombre silence in the cab only amplified this after driving back to the base. Hoseok gripped at the steering wheel at a set of lights, knowing somewhere tonight, a family would be grieving over the person they couldn’t get to fast enough to save.

“It’s the worst feeling,” you murmured as he began to drive off. Hoseok glanced at you briefly, your eyes stuck on the road ahead. “Even if it’s part of the job and not my first time, I don’t like it.”

“I don’t think we’re meant to like it.”

“I know it’s selfish, but I never want to be on the other side of the situation. I’ve had to treat friends before and I know it’s my job to remain calm and collected in a stressful environment like that was. However, say it was you; I don’t think I would be able to.”

Hoseok reached over to pat your hand lightly. “Hey, don’t go thinking like that.”

“It could happen.”

“It could,” he agreed softly, images procuring in his mind with coming up on a scene and finding you within it. He shuddered and blinked it away rapidly. “But I know you’ll do your best for me. And likewise, I’d give my all to save you.”

“Ah, we’re so emotional,” you stated shakily, clapping your hands together. “Does everyone crack like this after losing someone?”

“I don’t know, but you’re not alone in this tonight.”

You grew silent again until you climbed out of the cab and grabbed your things. Turning to look at Hoseok, you smiled sadly. “Want to go get a drink?”

“I was going to suggest the same thing.”

Once showered, changed and now seated in a bar with a drink in hand, you seemed a bit more alert. Hoseok smiled as he pushed the bowl of hot chips he had purchased towards you. You eyed the move cautiously. “What?”

“You need more colour in your cheeks.”

“I’m not feeling faint,” you replied sternly, though took a chip and blew on it lightly before chewing it.

“I know, but eating is a vital step in recovery for us.”

“I’d rather drink.”

“It won’t go away with the alcohol,” he reminded and you nodded distractedly. He could tell you were definitely more subdued than usual tonight. Looking around the bar, he pointed across the room. “Want to play a round of pool?”

“You only suggested that since I suck at it.”

“There’s always room for improvement,” he offered and you picked up the bowl of chips and your drink, standing up and gesturing to a free pool table.

It wasn’t until your second game where you had loosened up enough, laughing loudly at sinking the wrong ball than the one you were originally aiming for.

“At least you got one in!”

“I’m so ridiculously useless at this game!” you replied with another laugh, picking up your drink and taking a gulp.

Hoseok sunk the final three balls and you clapped at his triumph. He picked up his jacket and nudged you playfully. “Let’s call it a night, huh?”

“Good idea before you get drunk and start singing out of tune like you did last time,” you quipped and Hoseok reached out for you as you scooted out of his way. Accidentally, he knocked the man at the neighbouring table in the process.

And then, you turned around and let out a string of explicit words. Hoseok was conflicted. On one hand, his heart was thumping erratically at your instant defence for him, but with the way they acted towards him, he wasn’t exactly able to put in his best bid to protect you with the shock still keeping him to his spot.

“Sorry mate, I didn’t-”

A sickening punch came right for him in response and Hoseok was disorientated. He wasn’t expecting it at all and wobbled as he regained his balance. You came into his view immediately, examining his cheek.

He was in a daze, wondering if it was all a dream as he watched you twist the man’s arm who had just punched him now behind his back and made him drop to his knees. Details seemed to remain hazy even when you were helping him into the back of a cab and giving over your address. It wasn’t until you made him sit down on the edge of your couch inside your home and placed a bag of ice over his cheek that he seemed to snap out of his reverie.

“Did you just do all that?” he wondered out loud and you grinned at him.

“What, save your ass from doing something stupid?”

“I think you were a little too reckless compared, don’t you?”

“There was no need to punch you, and he had to apologise for it.”

Hoseok mirrored your grin as you rearranged the bag you were holding against his cheek. And then it faded, sliding forward to kiss your lips.

It had to be the alcohol, he concluded as he passionately continued to kiss you. There would be no other explanation for the hunger that you were showering him in otherwise. You had never expressed a desire for him like this. Although he had confused moments, you were impartial to dating and even frowned upon it in the workplace. So the events of the night and the alcohol consumed could be the only explanation for this.

Not that he needed one right now. He was all too immersed in running his hands along your curves, gasping when you hastily undid the buttons of his shirt. He enjoyed your instant appreciation of his exposed torso, the licking of your bottom lip urging him forward to capture them again, to continue making you his.

And then the fever cast over you caused you to press into his injury, a sudden hiss leaving him and ruining the mood. He panicked. “No, I’m fine!”

“More than fine,” you breathed, tenderly running your hand over his chest. “But you’re injured, let’s stop here.”

“Really?” he asked with disappointment as you puckered up your swollen lips and nodded sadly. You patted him on the chest before getting up, although Hoseok reached for your hand to halt your departure. “Where are you going?”

“To get you some blankets to sleep with, unless you want to uh… share my bed?”

He nodded then, following you down the hallway to your room.

The alcohol couldn’t hide either of your awkwardness now that the heated moment was left back in the living room. You looked at the space and then cringed. “We can’t, you know.”

“I know. Let’s just sleep,” he assured and you nodded, climbing into the bed first before Hoseok followed you in. Tense for a moment, you then rolled towards him, Hoseok slipping his arm after your neck.

Exhaustion washed over you both, pulling you into your dreams before you could question it any further.

When he woke in the morning, you were already up and making breakfast. Hoseok leaned against the doorframe and watched you move around the small kitchen, smiling to himself. He realised he could get used to this type of relationship with you. Those flustered moments and the unease he had felt thus far made more sense now that he had kissed you.

He was certain you could become better partners to each other on and off the clock.

His growing romantic notions were clipped short by your response over breakfast, however.

You smiled at him politely as you spread jam on your toast. “Your face looks a mess.”

“You did a good job of making me feel better.”

“It was a slip-up, it won’t happen again. Alcohol does strange things to people,” you replied and Hoseok’s expression faltered. You continued to eat your breakfast as if the heated embrace you had experienced wasn’t that special. Were you really that unaffected by it? Hoseok was sure you had felt what he had too.

Maybe you were only acting on impulse from the alcohol after all.

So he swallowed back the remnants of his feelings and chuckled. “Right, we had too much to drink.”

“Don’t go getting punched in any more bars,” you added on with a smirk.

And that was that. He had been lucid when it all happened, and he knew you weren’t even tipsy. Yet you both chalked it up as a drunken experience, working together as if you hadn’t had your hands all over his torso as his tongue wasn’t battling with yours all those weeks ago.

He had to admit, he was rather relieved when his planned time off rolled around. For two weeks, he wouldn’t have to endure through the unexpected moments where he’d catch himself thinking back to that night. Little things, such as you tying your hair back, were enough to give him a seconds’ flash of memory from that night.

Yet, you were unaffected, impartial even.

Or so he thought.

It was ironic how life worked in mysterious ways and if this was how he was going to get your attention, he wasn’t so sure he’d be willing to go through with it more than once. The impact of the other car hitting his was deafening, the screech of the wheels across the asphalt causing Hoseok to clamp his eyes shut momentarily.

He had attended far too many accidents but this was his first being involved in one.

When the noise all came to a halt, he opened his eyes again, assessing himself for injury. He had a few cuts on his arm from the glass shards on impact but nothing was substantially painful. Opening the door to his side of the car that thankfully hadn’t been the one to receive the impact, he went over to the driver in the other car, checking them for injuries as he called for emergency services.

Hoseok didn’t even notice it was you called onto the scene at first, too busy applying pressure to the thigh injury sustained on the other driver. However, he knew it was you who called his name out desperately, ignoring the other paramedic who was calling for you to calm down.

You dropped to your knees beside him, shaking visibly as you reached out for his face, looking him over as tears fell from your eyes. Hoseok smiled softly. “I’m okay, Y/N. We need to help Mr Laing here. He’s got three deep lacerations to his thigh and a suspected concussion.”

You merely stared back at him, still holding onto his face. “I told you not to do this to me.”

“Y/N,” he called, shaking you firmly. “Snap out of it, you need to help this man first.”

“I’ll do it,” Curtis announced and pushed you aside, stepping in to stabilise the patient. You seemed to snap out of your initial shock and assisted Curtis with getting the patient into the back of the ambulance. And then you came back to where Hoseok was now standing and took his arm with a tremble. “Come on, you’re getting checked out too.”

“I’m fine,” he told you but you ignored the response, guiding him into the extra seat in the ambulance. You seemed to have regained enough control over yourself to administer the correct care to the patient on the short trip to the hospital, and once you had handed him over to the awaiting medical team at the Emergency Department, you turned back to Hoseok, your knees starting to give way.

Lurching forward, he grabbed you before you fell. “Y/N, are you okay?”

“No, I’m in shock,” you told him simply, staring up at him intently. “How dare you get hurt and be there when I arrive on the scene.”

“I didn’t quite expect the guy to hit me in the intersection when he did.”

You shook your head and thumped him on the chest. “What are you doing getting involved in accidents anyway?!”

Hoseok shot Curtis a helpless expression, who gestured for you to stay with him as he closed the back door to the ambulance. Sighing, Hoseok walked slowly inside to the bed a nurse called him to and sat you down beside him. You didn’t let go of his injured arm, staring at the cuts over his forearm forlornly.

“Y/N,” he murmured and you hummed in response, tearing up. “Why are you being like this?”

“Am I meant to be fine about you getting injured?!”

“No, it’s just…” He paused to take in a breath. “I’m okay, it’s just a bit of soreness settling in from the impact and some cuts. I’m not dying yet you’re acting like I’m critical right now.”

“You mean too much to me to end up here like this,” you confessed shakily, blinking as a tear slid down your cheek. “You’re meant to help those who get hurt, not be the one hurt.”

“I know. You really are in shock, huh?”

“I like you too much for you to be hurt,” you continued and Hoseok nodded and then stopped, widening his gaze upon your face.

“Wait, like me too much?”

“Of course, I do!”

“As your partner?”

“As a man,” you corrected, wincing a little when you brushed your fingers too close to one of his wounds. “I know you didn’t think much of that night but I did.”

“Woah, hang on a minute!” Blinking rapidly, Hoseok then grabbed your chin with his uninjured arm to pull your focus up to his eyes. “You were the one who brushed it off for being intoxicated.”

“I didn’t want to put you in a bind by my feelings,” you mumbled and Hoseok laughed. You gaped at him. “Why are you laughing?!”

“Because we’re idiots! I’ve liked you a whole lot too, I just thought it was one-sided.”

“Definitely not.”

“So it really scared you to find me there, then.”

“If you ever get injured without me being there again,” you started, heaving in a deep breath as you shook your head with contempt. “Actually, you better not ever get hurt in front of me again.”

“You’re really protective, you know? You saved me in the bar and now you’re asserting yourself again for my safety. It’s really adorable.”

“I would hardly call this situation adorable, Hoseok.”

He grinned despite your lamenting statement, leaning over to peck your lips. You froze and Hoseok kissed you again before pulling you in closer to his side. He sucked in a breath when it hurt a little to do and you snapped out of it enough to look at him with worry.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course I am, I have paramedic Y/N at my side to help me.”

“What am I going to do with you?”

“I might need extra treatment after we’re done here getting this sorted out,” he admitted and you tilted your head to the side in confusion. Hoseok smirked. “With how much you like me, I might end up becoming lovesick.”

“God, you’re hopeless,” you told him despite a smile tugging at your lips. Nestling into his side, you buried your head into his neck and pressed your lips into him.

“Maybe you’ll need treatment too. But that’s okay, we’re medically trained professionals. I’ll save you and you can save me, deal?”

Looking up at him with another smile, you let out a breathy laugh. “Deal.”

_________________

Next: Minhyuk

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[project-sour-grapes]

My Precious Entitled Career

Despite my “success,” I've come to the realization that how I approach everything is wrong.

I am a professional in tech and an artist. My friends call me patient and hardworking beyond what is expected. In high school, I was one of those never-crack-a-book honors students with a fancy scholarship. However, when I look inward, all of these good fruits seem like an accident.

I was recently let go from a tech company that your average zoomer would know the name of. There was a conflict around compensation that played out over a week or two that escalated into my being terminated. While the decisions I made were kosher with my contract and were built upon advice from other professionals who had been in my shoes, I now consider my approach to be a failure. It's important to note that I don't regret standing up for myself, as that lesson was overdue for separate reasons. However, my mindset throughout the conflict did not serve me any good and I've now seen the severity of my entitlement and self importance through a magnifying glass.

I could detail you the statistics on median pay for my job, my old company, my state, etc. I could state why the situation seemed unjust and why I felt underappreciated and fooled. Maybe it was unfair on paper, and maybe I had the right to be angry, depending on who you ask. But I don't care anymore.

Time has been plentiful for my unemployed self. I have spent it ruminating, walking, and listening to audiobooks, one of which is Ego is the Enemy by Ryan Holiday. In one chapter, Holiday details Jackie Robinson's struggles as a black man trying to play professional baseball. If anything was fair on paper, it would have been Jackie Robinson fighting back against the racists (which he did and was arrested for when he was younger). But as a professional, he was encouraged by others to ignore racism and just beat them in games. And he did. He didn’t fight anybody anymore, even though he would have been right to and those idiots would have deserved it. Being a famous baseball player and fully grown adult yet being treated like a non-human or a child is the peak of unfair. But Holiday’s book’s point is that looking past unfairness towards the mission is sometimes necessary to accomplish it.

I'm not saying my life struggle compares to Jackie Robinson's. In fact, that is exactly what I'm not saying. My "unfair" situations pale in comparison to his. He climbed Everest and I'm over here upset about an ant hill. And in some sense, I made that ant hill myself. I mean that if he can experience literal crimes and keep his head up, then I need to shut my damn mouth.

What is the correct approach to my work then? Let's rewind a bit. Full disclosure, my old approach to my life's work was this:

I am going to work myself to death for you, and if you don't give me the world in return, that is a moral failure.

Isn't that a biting statement? There is the entitlement out in the open. I'm not proud to have thought this way at all, and I'm sorry to all of you have had to put up with this mindset from me. But there it is.

Now. Where do we go from here? Well, during my unemployed ruminations over the past few weeks, I came across Dr. Alok Kanojia's (AKA HealthyGamerGG on Youtube) video on motivation, fairness, and how we're not entitled to anything. He talked about how, since life is unfair and unpredictable, we are not entitled to the results of our actions. We don't automatically have the right to the outcome of an action. We only have the actions themselves. Studying doesn’t entitle us to an A+. We are only entitled to the studying itself. That’s the way of the universe. In my old job, I prioritized work above all else. I forewent classes that I ended up failing or dropping. I begged to work overtime. I was, in the words of multiple others, "kicking ass." Then I decided I was entitled to something because of it. And I got angry when that was not satisfied. That is where I went wrong. It is true that I was promised a few things that did not come to fruition. Maybe it was morally acceptable to be angry about unfulfilled promises. But like I said, I’m done caring about that. That's not what it is about anymore.

What is it about is action. All we have in life is our actions. The more I think about what I value, the more I see the emphasis on action.

When we say to live in the present instead of the past or future, we're talking about action, since the present is the only time action can happen

When we roll our eyes at the person who says "I'm the idea guy," we're valuing action

The concept "Show, don't tell" works, because it is about action

Giving your soul to a job/person/thing who didn't even ask for it, then holding out your hand and saying "Gimme" is not about action. It is focused on outcome. Maybe it’s not fair that we can’t expect equal rewards in return for our work all the time. And on paper, it really is. Give X, get X. Seems fair and logical. But for me, for that to be the starting place and the motivation for my work no longer serves me. I’m not saying fairness isn’t a worthy goal or that it is bad. Fairness can be the outcome of a good mission. But it is not required to complete the mission. And it’s not going to be the sole motivator for my decisions, because life is grey and humans can’t always deliver on promises, through no fault of their own. What I'm not going to do anymore is throw my hands up and say, "Sorry, this is unfair so I quit.”

Where this leaves me is that I'm reconsidering my career--not only how I approach the work but the field I chose entirely. In the past, I tried to do biomedical research, but I failed. I have also enrolled and unenrolled in many an EMT class and have taken and failed Biology, Chemistry, and Physics classes repeatedly. This was all because of a hazy dream of being a doctor that has sat in the back of my mind every day. 

I kept trying out this doctor dream, but I would always hit a tiny snag, exaggerate it, and give up. I have gone through about 10 multi-month cycles of this for years. And guess what the snags were:

That professor gave me a B+ instead of an A on a single exam. Pre-med education is inherently unfair, and I'm not putting up with this.

I have to study this bio concept that I probably won't even use if I become a real doctor. That's a waste of my time, so I'd rather fail/drop than learn it.

Doctors have to get up at 5am? That goes against science on sleep schedules, so I'm not going to do it.

How pissy and entitled? Who thinks like that? Me, apparently--or who I hope to be "old me."

How did I get so caught up in what is fair or unfair that I lost sight of the forest for the trees? News flash, self... everything is unfair! Gym is always packed? Unfair. Fighting cancer? Unfair. Some idiot who cares less than you do got picked for the job? Unfair. Hell, the unfairness of life is half the reason why we even get up in the morning. Name a career that isn’t about taking an unfair situation and turning it into a better one. (If you can, maybe don’t do that career.) We do stuff as humans, because it’s unfair. Or the alternative, not doing it, would be unfair. If doctors threw up their hands because disease is unfair, we’d still be fighting polio. I wouldn’t make it one second in caveman times with my old attitude. The hungry lions staring at my caveman camp don’t care what I think is fair.

So here's the mission. We are going to look unfair things in the face and still do them. Despite their unfairness. Despite the fear that something will take more than it gives. Despite the brain saying, "This is inefficient, so let's not do it at all." In fact, it's because of their unfairness that we will do them. Then we can leave them better off for someone else. Or do them better the next time. I am calling this Project Sour Grapes. It starts right now.

#sourgrapes

[siren-queen-imagines]

Concussion

I’m going through the Wayback Machine and bringing over some fics that I wrote when I was imaginingwwesuperstars!! Well, at least what they have archived…and has been edited since the original post. Down to the last of them! I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

You were in the middle of your match with Bayley when you had landed wrong. She went for a german suplex and you landed directly on the back of your head.

You remembered flying through the air and then it went black for a moment. That was all you could remember about it. When you opened your eyes, you had already been loaded onto the gurney. You heard the crowd clapping for you and chanting your name as a way of showing their support.

“Hey, hey, hey.” You heard the voice of your boyfriend, Sami Zayn, call out as you were being wheeled towards the ambulance. “Is she okay?” He asked one of the medical personnel.

“She wasn’t responding in the ring, so we believe she may have a concussion. We need to take her to the hospital and get some tests.” One of the WWE EMT’s had replied.

“Alright, I’m coming with you.”

“No.” You called out to him, slightly weakly as you still felt a little lightheaded. They stopped moving the gurney so you can talk to Sami for a moment.

“I’m not leaving you to go through this alone.” Sami told you, grabbing onto you hand.

“You have a match, Sami. Go. I’ll be okay for an hour or so.” You slurred.

“Y/N–”

“I’m fine, Sami. Just go. I’ll see you when you’re done.”

Sami clenched his jaw before he sighed. He nodded and lifted your hand to his lips, kissing you knuckles gently before letting you go. He watched as they loaded you into the ambulance and remained in place until you were driven out of sight. He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair in frustration before putting it back on. He sighed once more as he headed towards the gorilla, grateful that he was going out there second. He needed that extra time to get back to his usual self for the fans.

You sat in your hospital bed, flipping through the channels in boredom. You had a killer headache and were still waiting for the aspirin the nurse gave you to kick in.

=================================

It was confirmed that you had a concussion.

Great.

You sighed as you turned off the TV. You pinched the bridge of your nose, praying to whomever was out there that this headache would at least lighten up.

“Hey.” A voice gently called out to you.

You looked over to see Bayley and Sasha walk into the room with what looked to be your bag of clothes.

“Hey.” You replied, small smile on your face. You couldn’t even begin to describe how happy you were to see your friends. It was so boring without them while you waited for everything.

“How are you feeling?” Sasha asked.

“I’ll be better once this headache dies down.” You replied. “But thanks for asking. I’ll be alright.” You offered her a smile.

“Hey, Y/N, I’m so sorry–” Bayley started.

“Stop. Don’t apologize, Bay. It was an accident. It wasn’t your fault.”

“But you wouldn’t be here if I had decided on another move or–”

“Shush.” You interrupted once more. “Everything happens for a reason, right? Maybe this was the universe’s way of telling me that it’s time for a break. I’m fine, girl. Really. It was an accident. All of us get in that ring knowing things like this can happen. But we still do it. Besides, you gave me a hell of a match out there. I’d say like, top 2 of my favorite matches I’ve ever wrestled in.”

Bayley couldn’t but smile at you.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

You grabbed her hand gently and patted it to comfort her as you smiled at her.

“By the way, thanks for bringing my stuff.”

“Oh of course. We left Sami a note telling him that we were coming to see you and that we’d bring your stuff so he can just finish up and get here.” Sasha replied, taking a seat near your bed.

“How is he?”

“He took it pretty hard. He was pretty upset.”

“I expected that. He was about to bail on and I didn’t want him getting into any trouble, you know?”

“Speak of the devil.” Bayley said, looking at her phone. “He’s here. He’s on his way up.”

As if on cue, Sami walked into the doorway, pausing and taking the hat off his head. 

“We’ll give you guys a few minutes.” Sasha said, her and Bayley excusing themselves.

Sami went over to you and immediately pulled you into his arms.

“God, I was so scared.” Sami whispered, tilting his head to kiss the side of your temple. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” You assured him, gently rubbing his back. “Did you win?”

Sami laughed as he pulled away from you. You scoot over and patted the spot next to you. Sami sat in the empty spot and put his arm around you.

“You’re in the hospital and you wanna know if I won?” He asked with amusement.

“Yeah. It would be nice to know.”

“I did. Barely, but I did.”

“Barely? Why barely?”

“Well, there was this girl I really love who got hurt. Couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“Is this girl nice?”

“Oh yes, very nice. Pretty geeky, really easy and fun to talk to…beautiful, ugh. So beautiful.”

“Hmm, I think I have to meet this girl sometime.”

“You definitely do.”

You and Sami exchanged a small laugh as you rested your head on his shoulder.

“What’d the doctor say?” Sami asked as you two relaxed in the momentary silence.

“Concussion. Said it could’ve been much worse.”

“It could’ve. We can live with a concussion. I’d rather you not have a brain injury, but considering the alternatives, it is what it is.”

You two sat in the silence comfortably.

“Hi, Miss Y/L/N, I have your discharge papers.” The nurse, Diana, said as she came in. “You must be Sami,” She asked him with a smile.

“I am.” He replied, offering his hand to shake. 

“Diana.” She shook his hand. “She told me a lot about you. We needed to keep her alert and all she did was talk about you.

“Good things I hope.”

“Some. The rest happened to be about your worst qualities.” She replied straight faced.

“Really?” Sami asked you in surprise.

“I’m just kidding, it was all good.” Sami couldn’t help the laugh that left him. She was good. “So, the after care is very simple. Are you familiar with concussions?”

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Okay. Then just make sure to wake her up every couple of hours to make sure she’s okay. If her headache worsens, she gets dizzy or she starts vomiting, anything that might make you worry, bring her back here or call 911. If she needs anything for the pain, give her Tylenol. It’s all there in the papers but I thought I’d give you the whole spiel anyway.”

“Great.” Sami said as he looked at the discharge papers for a moment. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem. Y/N, I hope you feel better soon, honey.”

“Thank you, Diana. Have a good night.”

“You too, thanks guys.” She smiled at the two of you before leaving the room.

You stood up and headed over towards your bag. Sami quickly got up and took the bag away from you and placed it on the bed.

“I got this.” Sami said as he unzipped your bag and opened it.

“I can do it, you know.” You told him with a small smile as you grabbed some clothes.

“Eh, I know. But I just want you to take it easy.”

“You’re too good to me.” You placed a kiss to his lips before closing the curtain to change.

“You wanna grab something to eat on the way back to the hotel?”

“Sure, sounds good, I’m starving.”

“And we’ll watch some Netflix. They have the most recent season of SVU on…we need to catch up.”

You opened the curtain, fully dressed. 

“That sounds amazing. But we haven’t even finished the last season…I think we have 2 more episodes.”

“Then we’re finishing it tonight.” Sami leaned down and kissed you. “Let’s get you fed and to sleep.”

You smiled at him before he went over to your bag and zipped it up. He placed it on the ground and pulled out the handle to roll it behind you. With his free hand, he laced his fingers together with yours.

As you walked down the hallway of the hospital, you knew that you had hit the jackpot with Sami Zayn. You may have a concussion, but you had never felt better in your life than when you’re with him.

#sami zayn x reader #sami zayn imagine #wwe imagine #wrestling imagine

[yoddream]

walk | l.dh

pairing: Haechan x fem!reader

warnings: car accident, blood, mentions of paralysis, angst, broken bones

summary: it all happened so fast

word count: 1,972 (ik it’s short im sorry i wanna try to think of a long story with him but im a little stuck rn)

a/n: hey y’all. i’m really sorry it’s short. there are all these ideas in my phone on what to write and this was one of them so i chose to use haechan. nobody’s sending any requests in, so i’m getting stuck with my work. i’m still working on my bad body jeno one but it’s a really long one so it’s gonna be a while. i will gladly take requests (as long as it’s not smut) so please send them in! gotta get the creative juices flowin n shit

It was easier to say what didn’t hurt rather than what did. Your legs didn’t hurt, but that was because you couldn’t feel them. It was terrifying, to keep it simple. You couldn’t even remember what had happened. You and Donghyuck were driving home from dinner with your friends. You kept your eyes on the road even though wanted to look at your best friend and admire him as he sang along to the songs that were floating from the speakers. His car was in the shop, so you were driving him home. There was a flash of lights—

Right. A car had swerved into your lane. You turned the wheel to avoid getting hit, but instead the car rolled a couple times before landing on the roof. That’s where you were now: upside down in the middle of the road. You didn’t know where the other car was, but you knew they weren’t as bad as you two.

“Y/N. Y/N!” Donghyuck shouted.

“I’m here, Hyuck,” you assured him. “I’m here.”

“Oh, thank god. I was worried you were passed out or—” He didn’t have to finish that sentence for you to understand what he had been thinking.

“Good thing I refused to leave until you buckled your seatbelt, huh?” you joked.

There was a rough chuckle. “Only you would find now is a good time to make jokes.”

You paused. “I’m scared, Hyuck.”

“I am too, but we’re gonna get out of this,” he promised you. “We’re gonna get out, we’re gonna walk away from this, and we’ll take that road trip you’ve been planning since the beginning of high school.”

“I can’t feel my legs.”

The car slowly lit up as emergency vehicles got closer. “Then I’ll wheel you away, but we’re getting out.”

“Hyuck, I’m tired.”

“No, no, no, do not close your eyes. Stay with me, Y/N. Please, stay with me,” he begged.

“I’ll try, but I really wanna sleep,” you stated.

“You’ll be able to sleep at the hospital but I need you to stay awake for me, doll. I know you can do it.”

You could hear him tell the EMTs to get you out first, but your eyes refused to stay opened. You mumbled an apology before completely losing consciousness. The last thing you remembered was the flash of yellow from a firefighter’s jacket.

///

Donghyuck wanted to see you so badly, but you were in surgery, and he had a broken arm that needed to be set before put in a cast. He knew absolutely nothing, and it was driving him insane. He and Renjun were your only emergency contacts, so the other boy was on his way to the hospital. You lost contact with your parents as soon as you had turned eighteen, tired of their disapproval with every decision you made, whether it was the friends you made or however you decided to change your hairstyle. Donghyuck and the rest of the guys were all you had.

You and Donghyuck had met in the third grade when you moved to the neighborhood. He’d immediately pulled you into his friend group consisting of Chenle, Jaemin, Jeno, Jisung, and Renjun. It was a wide variety of personalities, yet you somehow managed to get along with all of them. They felt there was no one else in the world that could cackle with Chenle one minute and have deep conversations with Renjun the next. No one could stand Jaemin’s affection as much as you, and no one could sit with Jeno for hours upon hours listening to music without speaking like you. You were the reason Jisung was able to break out of his shell and get a girlfriend, and you were the reason Donghyuck was a ray of sunshine.

“Hyuck!” He looked up and found Renjun’s head bobbing through the busy emergency room. “Hyuck, what happened? Where’s Y/N?”

“We were—we were in a car accident. It rolled. Renjun, I—” Donghyuck was at a loss for words.

“Do you know if she’s going to be okay?”

“There was so much blood. She lost so much. She’s in surgery right now, but I don’t know what they’re working on. She couldn’t feel her legs.”

Renjun’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, a rare sight. He nodded before taking his phone out, muttering something about calling the others. He was about to step away when a hand shot out and grabbed his arm. He looked up and frowned. There was fear written all over Donghyuck’s face; the boy didn’t want to be left alone at all.

The two of them sat on the bed as they waited for either the doctor or their friends to show up, whoever came first. Even though his arm was broken, Donghyuck felt numb. He just wanted to see you, to hold your hand, to hear your laugh again. He wanted all of that, but he couldn’t get it. He didn’t know if he ever would.

The guys ended up arriving at the same time the doctor needed to help Donghyuck with his arm. Renjun filled them in quickly before going to sit with him while his arm was set. He was silent through the whole thing, and the doctor seemed concerned by the lack of reaction.

“Did you feel that?” she asked.

Donghyuck shrugged. “Probably.”

“He’ll definitely feel it later,” Renjun assured her. “Right now, uh, our best friend is in surgery. We don’t know how it’ll turn out.”

She nodded in understanding. “Okay. Well, I’m going to write you a prescription for some pain medication. Take it every four hours if needed. There are no refills, so if you run out or feel you need something with less strength, take some ibuprofen.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Renjun said as he took the paper.

They headed back to the emergency room to sit with their friends as they waited for your surgeon to appear with whatever news she had. Renjun was pacing, never one to sit still. Jisung was asleep in Jeno’s lap, his whole body curled up. Chenle was playing a game on his phone to keep himself distracted, but he looked to Jisung to check on him every few minutes. Jaemin was a few feet away, trying to work the coffee vending machine. Donghyuck watched people filter in and out of the waiting room for hours until the sun rose. When he heard your name called, he stood up so quickly he almost fell over from the blood rush.

“How is she? Is she okay?” he asked as the others woke up and joined him.

“Everything went well. She lost a lot of blood, but we managed to stop it. We, unfortunately, don’t know when she’ll wake up. With all the injuries she sustained, it could range from a couple hours to a couple days,” the surgeon explained.

“What about her legs? Hyuck said she couldn’t feel them,” Renjun stated.

She paused. “One of the lumbar vertebrae was fractured in the accident, and it’s currently compressing onto her spinal cord. Right now, she’s in a brace to take some pressure of her spine, but we can’t perform any surgery until she’s well enough.”

“Can we see her?” Chenle asked.

“Unfortunately, only family can.”

“We are her family,” Donghyuck said.

“I understand that you’re worried, but unless you’re her actual family—”

He cut her off. “Damn it, she doesn’t have family! We’re all she has!”

A silence fell upon the whole room, and it took him a couple seconds to realize what he’d done. He started apologizing profusely, but she simply smiled and shook her head.

“Don’t worry, I get it. I’ll let the nurses know that you all are considered family.”

She gave them directions to your room. They didn’t hesitate to rush down the hallway, but not before yelling out their thanks. When they reached your room, it took them a moment to realize that they were looking at you. Your face was covered in bruises, and there were quite a few butterfly bandages on your cheeks and forehead. Your arms were wrapped in gauze, and your torso was in a giant brace. You were almost unrecognizable.

Donghyuck grabbed a chair and dragged it to your bedside. He reached out his good hand and grabbed your own, careful of the cuts that were on your skin. Jaemin grabbed the other chair, letting Jeno sit on the arm of it. The others stood at the end of the bed, seemingly scared to step closer.

“Jesus, Y/N. What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” Jeno mumbled.

The only response was the rise and fall of your chest.

///

It was a process trying to wake up. First, you felt the pain in your back. Next, you heard the heart monitor that you were strapped to. Then, you smelled the sterile air of the hospital. Finally, you opened your eyes, squinting against the sunlight. You looked around and spotted Jaemin and Chenle sitting by the window. Chenle looked over first, a wide smile stretching across his face.

“Hey, you’re awake!” he announced.

Jaemin’s head whipped around, his eyes wide with shock. He grinned as well and walked over. His hand reached up to push the hair from your face as he asked how you were feeling. You whined in discomfort, knowing he understood to an extent how much pain your back was in. As glad as you were to talk to them, there was somebody more important you needed to see.

“Where’s Hyuck?” you asked. When they didn’t answer right away, you started to panic. “Where is he?”

“I’m right here.”

You looked to the door and sighed with relief when your eyes landed on your best friend. His arm was in a cast and sling, and there were a few cuts and bruises on his face, but he was otherwise okay. He rushed forward and hugged you as gently as he could before pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Told you we would make it out of there,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, sounds like I might walk away too,” you replied.

When he pulled away, there was a fond smile on his face. “Good, because you’re heavy.”

Gasping, you reached out to hit his good arm. He yelped and whined about how it wasn’t fair, but you rolled your eyes and called him a big baby. He turned to complain to Chenle and Jaemin, but to your surprise, they were gone.

“Huh. Wonder when they left,” you commented.

Sitting down, Donghyuck took your hand in his and squeezed lightly. “You really scared me, you know.”

You nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want you to get hit, so I turned the car so I would—”

“Wait, what?” His eyes widened in surprise at your words.

“When—when the car hit us. I turned the car so it would hit me,” you admitted.

He frowned, his eyes glistening with tears that you knew he would do his best to hold back. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I love you, dumbass.” After what you’d gone through, you didn’t want to hold it in anymore. “I love you so fucking much. If you died, I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

“And you think I would’ve just lived my life like nothing?” he argued. “No, no way. I would be absolutely crushed. So don’t go talking like my heart wouldn’t be broken if I lost my other half.”

He kissed the back of your hand and added, “As soon as you’re out of here, I’m dating you so hard. I’m talking fancy dinners with candles and everything.”

You tried to fight back the smile that was threatening to spread across your face, but it couldn’t be stopped. “Good, because I don’t want anyone else to.”

#nct #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct scenarios #nct angst #nct dream #nct dream imagines #nct dream imagine #nct dream scenarios #nct dream angst #haechan #haechan imagines #haechan imagine #haechan scenarios #haechan angst #donghyuck #donghyuck imagines #donghyuck imagine #donghyuck scenarios #donghyuck angst #lee donghyuck #lee donghyuck imagines #lee donghyuck imagine #lee donghyuck scenarios #lee donghyuck angst

[ironfidus]

Every Fifteen Minutes (2)

Summary:

“In honor of Peter Benjamin Parker,” the obituary reads. “2001 - 2017. Peter B. Parker, 16, died on the 5th of February, 2017, as a result of injuries sustained in a car crash involving a drunk driver…”

Tony can't finish reading. He swears his heart stops. “FRIDAY,” he croaks.

He doesn’t have to finish the order; FRIDAY, as if reading his mind, activates his Iron Man suit and sends it to envelop his body. Tony is shooting through the skies before he even fully realizes it.

OR: Peter Parker was in a car crash—except... he wasn’t. One forgetful Spider-Kid, one sleepy best friend, and one misleading post on social media all lead to a disastrous turn of events, culminating in the arrival of an unexpected guest at Midtown High.

Read here on AO3 (@a_matter_of_loyalty)

:::

Chapter 2: grip you tight (but you’re slippin’ out)

Chapter Summary: Tony Stark arrives at Midtown High. Unfortunately, he's still under the impression that Peter Parker is dead. 

Naturally, chaos (and drama) ensues.

:::

After giving the students a few minutes to finish their lunches, Principal Morita activates the intercom and urges all juniors and seniors to the parking lot to witness the—simulated, of course—car crash. The teachers and participating emergency responders had planned out the simulation in excruciating detail: the police officers had donated a wrecked car from evidence lockup to be used for the simulation, and they’d already sectioned off the site of the crash with yellow tape. Two of the participants—one senior and one junior—had been selected for the fabrication and informed of their roles.

One of the seniors—Douglas Fitzpatrick, if Morita remembers correctly—would act as the drunk driver, “arrested” at the scene for all to witness. The junior, on the other hand—Peter Parker, Morita recalls faintly—would be posing as the casualty. Morita was worried, at first, that it might be too traumatic for Peter to play dead—Morita knows Peter’s family history, after all. But when asked if he would participate, Peter had agreed reluctantly and asked, All I have to do is lie still, right? 

Morita nodded at that. And then, to everyone’s surprise, Peter had merely beamed and reasoned, Great! I’m kind of tired—I didn’t get much sleep last night—so I’ll just sleep through it.

(True to his words, Peter had started dozing off as soon as they’d arranged him on the road, before they’d even finished smearing the fake blood across his forehead.)

Morita had been stunned. Mr. Harrington had choked. 

But, well, at least Peter had said yes, which means that everyone involved has now been thoroughly prepped. All they have left to do is present their demonstration to the student body and hopefully ingrain an understanding of the repercussions of drinking-and-driving in the students.

:::

Car crash…? Ned wonders to himself in confusion, head snapping up at the sound of his principal’s voice echoing through the school hallways. He feels vaguely nauseous. Oh shit, there was a car crash? Here? 

He curses to himself and pushes his lunch away, jumping from his seat and following the other students outside. Where on earth is Peter? he asks himself, not for the first time. After leaving Mr. Harrington's classroom earlier, he’d gone straight to the cafeteria, hoping to run into Peter either along the way or inside the lunch hall. Peter’s always getting hungry, after all; Ned reasons it isn’t too farfetched that Peter left earlier to snag himself a big portion. But even after scouring the cafeteria, Ned still hasn’t caught sight of Peter, and his mind is running rampant with fear.

Morita mentioned a car crash. If there really has been an accident in front of their own school, Ned has no doubt that Peter will want to be the first one to arrive at the site of the incident, doing his best to help even if it means giving up his secret identity.

My anonymity isn’t worth anyone’s lives, Peter once told Ned, determination burning in his gaze. If it comes between keeping my secret and saving someone… I know what I have to do.

Oh, shit, Ned swears. Please tell me he hasn’t been exposed—

His worry spiking as he jumps to conclusions, Ned hastens his pace and weaves his way through the other students, trying to push through the crowd. When he finally barrels through the gates and arrives at the parking lot, he freezes, the reality of attention all juniors and seniors, there has been a car crash by the parking lot, please proceed in an orderly fashion wrapping around him like a vice.

A large number of juniors, seniors and teachers are already gathered around the site of the crash, lined in neat rows. Ned ignores the orderliness of it all and forces his way to the front, heart caught in his throat.

(If Ned were thinking clearly, he would have realized something is off about this entire situation. After all, why would Principal Morita be encouraging students to go to the site of a tragedy?

But Ned isn’t thinking clearly, partly because of his still-drowsy mind and partly because of his concerns for his best friend.)

Ned inhales sharply when he’s finally able to see beyond the assembled students to the crime scene.

Ambulances and police cars are already lined up along the street, with EMTs and police officers alike leaping out of their vehicles to respond to the accident. One officer yanks open the mangled car door and drags the driver out by the cuff of his shirt.

The driver looks young, Ned thinks, squinting his eyes. Have I seen him somewhere before…? 

Shaking it off, Ned turns back to the scene. Thankfully, Spider-Man is nowhere to be seen. Ned knows he shouldn’t be relieved about that—shame punches through him even as he thinks it—but he also knows that Peter isn’t truly ready to have his identity exposed to the world, even if he is resolved to give up his secret for the sake of others. 

As the police officer tests the driver for his blood alcohol levels—god, I can’t believe this is happening at my own school—the paramedics break off to approach someone else, a figure on the street Ned previously missed.

Ned stiffens. The pedestrian—the victim, Ned thinks faintly to himself—lies sprawled out on the street, streaks of blood painted across his forehead. The victim looks even younger than the driver, hauntingly unmoving as he rests collapsed on the road. I’ve never seen a dead body before, he thinks numbly, bile bubbling up inside him, and his mind shrieks at him to pull away. But something about the situation, macabre as it is, keeps him fixated, horror and fear curdling in his gut. The victim—my age, he’s my age—looks eerie, skin pale and—

No.

It takes Ned a moment—a moment longer than it should—to recognize the victim. Beneath the blood, Ned knows that face; he knows those freckled cheeks and that tranquil smile and that mess of curls.

He knows. 

Ned’s heart drops like lead, descending through the soles of his feet and burrowing into the pavement, as he finally understands why Spider-Man isn’t at the scene of the crime.

Answer: because Peter Parker already is.

No, no, no—

Ned watches, paralyzed, as the paramedics crowd around Peter—his best friend, his brother—in a rush of footsteps and white coats. One of them kneels down beside Peter and feels for his heartbeat, fitting two fingers against Peter’s neck.

No.

The paramedic stands, head bowed, and quietly announces Peter to be dead on arrival.

Ned doesn’t hear the whimper that exits his mouth. He doesn’t feel the sharp twinge that shoots through him as he crashes to his knees, hands shaking by his side. He isn’t aware of anything but the fragmenting of his heart, the roaring in his ears, the tears in his eyes, the blood on Peter’s face—

Dead on arrival. Dead. 

Ned only regains awareness, rapidly stumbling to his feet, when the paramedics start lifting Peter onto a stretcher. Just as they are about to cover Peter’s face with a white cloth—no no no—Ned bulldozes his way through, shoving away anyone and everyone in his path. “No!” he gasps, and the desperate objection comes out strangled. “What are you doing?” Don’t you know he’s claustrophobic? he wants to ask, rooted in denial. He’ll be so scared. He won’t be able to breathe. “Peter? Peter! Hey!”

“Hey, kid, you can’t be here—” one of the paramedics starts.

“Get out of my way!” Ned shouts, ducking under the paramedic’s outstretched hands. He can vaguely hear the other students start to murmur in confusion, but he doesn’t let that stop him. Their voices are muffled in his ears. All he can hear is Peter’s laugh, like a distant memory, an echo of another time. Like hell I can’t be here, he thinks angrily. That’s my best friend. He’s my friend and he’s not fucking dead. 

(He can’t be. Please don’t let him be dead.)

“Peter!” He skids to a stop by Peter’s side, nearly falling over onto his knees a second time. “Peter? Why aren’t you responding?” He lurches forward and grips Peter’s hands, hanging limply from either side of the stretcher, with urgency. Please respond, Peter. Please. “Peter—”

“Where the hell is he!?” an unexpected voice bellows from above, sharp and frenzied enough to be heard by the entire crowd. It’s a voice all of them have heard before, though most only recognize it from interviews and press conferences and the ever-iconic reveal of I am Iron Man. “Kid? Kid!”

“What the hell?” someone yelps from the crowd. “What is Tony Stark doing at Midtown High? In Queens?”

“Tony Stark? Here?”

“No way!”

“In the sky, look!”

“Oh, my god. It’s Iron Man!”

“Holy shit, it’s really him! Tony Stark! At our school!”

Ned tears his eyes away from the bloody face of his best friend for the first time since he spotted him. He leans back on the heels of his feet, eyes darting to the sky—and sure enough, Tony Stark hovers above them, panels of red and gold gleaming under the midday sun.

“Mr. Stark!” the name rips out of Ned’s throat with a choked gasp. And then, more desperately: “Oh, god, Mr. Stark.”

Iron Man’s repulsers power off with a mechanical whine. The suit lands mere feet away from Ned with a thud—the force of which makes Ned flinch closer to his friend until he remembers Peter is lying still and dead, unable to help—before the faceplate finally slides open, revealing the famous face of Anthony Edward Stark.

“Ned.” Tony’s voice is raw and guttural, wrecked, when he meets Ned’s eyes.

(Normally, Tony would call him Ted or Fred or Jared or anything at all besides his real name.

The use of his real name breaks Ned’s heart all over again, because he knows why Tony uses it now; he knows why the situation is serious enough to warrant Tony’s disregard of his usual sassy routine.

He knows whose body he’s standing beside.)

:::

The thing is, all of this could have been avoided. All of this could have been prevented—if only Ned had paid attention in class, if only Peter had remembered to wear his StarkWatch to school, if only Flash had added a short disclaimer to his post, if only Peter hadn’t fallen asleep during the simulation… 

If only, if only, if only.

But none of those what-ifs happened, because this is how the story went. There is no longer any use in pondering on those niggling what-ifs. Now, one can only take refuge in the present, in reality.

And in this reality, the errors of the characters piled up one after another, leading to calamity.

:::

A short while ago…

Minutes away from Midtown High, minutes away from finding answers, Tony makes one last effort to deny the reality staring him in the face:

“FRIDAY,” he says suddenly, “check Peter’s StarkWatch, please. Pull up his vitals for me.”

FRIDAY does so, and he waits with bated breath, hoping, pleading, praying—

God has certainly never listened to his prayers before. Or if He has, He’s never cared to answer them.

God doesn't answer them now, either.

When Peter’s details load on his screen, Tony’s hope shrivels up and dies in his ribcage.

No data available, the pop-up reads, as if the watch is simply out of range or malfunctioning.

Except Tony personally built and customized Peter’s watch. He categorically knows that there is no possible way for either of those two things to happen: Tony specifically designed Peter’s watch to have unlimited range, and his technology has never failed him before.

The only way FRIDAY wouldn’t be receiving Peter’s data is if the watch has been broken beyond repair, or if…

If there is no data to receive. If Peter’s heart is no longer pumping blood through his body.

If Peter is dead.

Tony grits his teeth, swallows down the bile rising up his throat, and urges FRIDAY to fly faster. He needs answers. (He needs to know what took his kid from him.)

It feels like hours have passed—though Tony knows it’s only been a few minutes—before he finally arrives at his destination. FRIDAY brings him to a stop in front of Midtown High, and Tony’s worst fears are realized when he spots the congregation of police cars and ambulances parked outside the school gates.

Years ago, during the Battle of New York, Tony crashed through his balcony window and hurtled through the skies towards certain death. It was the first time since Iron Man’s creation that he’d been genuinely afraid of flying. Since then, Tony made sure to keep his suit either on him or accessible at all times, unwilling to face the feeling of free-falling ever again.

In that way, Iron Man is his safety net. His suit is his greatest form of protection.

Today, hovering above the scene of a car crash, Iron Man provides him no safety, no confidence. Tony looks at the assembly of emergency responders, of bystanders, and feels like falling.

(This is so much worse than the Battle of New York.)

Tony exhales shakily, activates his external speakers, and tries to hide the tremor in his voice as he demands, “Where the hell is he!?” He winces at the sound of his own voice, made gravelly by terror. “Kid? Kid!”

He hears the murmurs almost immediately, but he ignores them; he may have grown up accustomed to being in the public eye, but right now, he’d gladly give it all up to fix this. He’d gladly give up Tony Stark, give up his fame and fortune, to be able to take Peter in his arms and keep him there – safe and sound.

It isn’t until he hears his name coming from a vaguely familiar voice that he snaps to attention, eyes immediately pinpointing the source—Ned Leeds, standing in the middle of a circle of paramedics.

Tony stops cold, sucking in a sharp breath as a glacial darkness—wispy with fear and nausea—seeps into his bones, strangling him.

Because the sight that greets him as he spots Ned threatens to break Tony all over again. He immediately recognizes him, his kid’s sidekick (How many times do I have to tell you he isn’t my sidekick, Mr. Stark, Peter would whine for the thousandth time. He’s my guy-in-the-chair!), leaning over the still form of Peter fucking Parker. Tony’s eyes unwittingly catch on the spatter of blood marring the kid’s face.

Tony doesn’t want to believe it. It can’t be true.

(Peter Parker is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Meeting Peter, taking him under his wing and getting to know him—through evenings spent in the lab going over blueprints and pranking one another, through playful fights over the TV remote and movie options, through game nights and Mario Kart competitions, through mentoring and getting mentored—are all the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

This… this is the worst.)

“Oh, god, Mr. Stark,” Ned’s voice quivers with fear, with loss, and Tony chokes back a sob, letting FRIDAY operate the Iron Man suit on auto. She powers it down and opens the faceplate for him, and he’s left staring at Peter and Ned side-by-side, one kid unmoving and one trembling. Together even at the very end.

“Ned.”

Ned crumbles.

“Mr. Stark,” Ned repeats, voice hitching and then splintering, overwhelmed by blubbering cries. “P-Peter, he’s – he’s… they declared him DOA.” The abbreviation—DOA—is nothing more than a hushed murmur as it leaves Ned’s voice, punched out by the sheer devastation in his cognizance.

Tony’s next breath stutters on its way out.

DOA. To have it confirmed is a punch in the gut. It's electricity coursing through his blood, it's ice in his veins, it's a missile exploding in his face. It's almost—almost—enough to drive Tony to his knees, except… except he needs to see it for himself, before—

Before he can believe it. Believe that Peter is truly gone, that his smile will never again light up Tony’s life, that his world as he knows it has ended.

“Mr. Stark, I…” Ned flounders. He looks… so, so inexorably lost. Unable to escape this new reality that threatens to suffocate them with its terrors. Ned sniffles, convulsing. “Oh, god, Mr. Stark, I can’t—”

Ned doesn’t finish his sentence, abruptly breaking off as gasping sobs overwhelm his voice. Tony doesn’t need him to finish his sentence; Ned’s tears convey his despair better than any words could have. So Tony might not know what exactly Ned was going to say, what Ned can’t do, but Tony already knows he can’t, either.

-

Ned doesn’t finish his sentence, gasping sobs overwhelming his voice. Tony doesn’t need him to finish his sentence; Ned’s tears convey his despair better than any words could have. So Tony might not know what exactly Ned was going to say, what Ned can’t do, but Tony already knows he can’t, either.

Not when Peter’s body is just lying there. Completely, utterly motionless. 

Tony gulps down a burst of fear, approaching the pair of best friends on trembling legs, as if he’s a newborn foal struggling to stand on his own instead of Tony Stark, the man behind the most successful technology corporation to date. Eventually, he manages to find his way, coming to a stumbling halt before Peter, unblinking eyes fixated on his kid and desperately searching for answers, for any sign of life.

(Searching and praying for any sign that Peter has managed to defy all odds yet again—that he has managed to elude even the bone-chilling label of DOA.)

He finds none.

A ragged, dissonant exhale tumbles out of his lips, the puff of air floating downwards, unseen as it crashes into smooth asphalt. His gaze follows, pulled towards the ground—pulled towards Peter—by some palpable force. Peter is mere feet away from him now—close enough that Tony would be able to touch him if he were to reach out—and yet he feels miles away, as if there is a cavernous distance between them impossible to bridge. 

(If it were possible, Tony would follow Peter anywhere.)

Tony shudders. “Wake up,” he whispers into the unbearable space between them like a prayer. A wish, one that sings true, born from the deepest desires of his heart. “Please wake up. Don’t… don’t make me say goodbye to you. Please, just – just open your eyes, kid. If you’re ever going to listen to anything I say, let it be this.” 

I can’t lose you, he doesn’t say, but feels with every bone in his body. It’s true, he realizes: he can’t. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s truly lost Peter, only that it’ll be ugly. Please wake up.

Tony Stark does not beg for anything or anyone. 

Today, he does. Today, he sinks to his knees and presses his forehead to Peter’s and begs.

“Peter, please.”

:::

The unexpected appearance of the famed Anthony Edward Stark at a high school in Queens is cause enough for shock. The sight of that same Stark, head bowed and on his knees before one of their own? Well, that easily sends a thousand more exclamations and rumors rippling through the crowd.   

(Somewhere amidst all of these exclamations, somewhere in the thick of the crowd, Flash Thompson watches, dumbstruck, as Iron Man falls to his knees and whispers a mantra of broken pleas. Every single accusation Flash has ever made about Peter lying about his Stark Industries internship, about knowing Tony Stark, returns to the forefront of his mind. 

Parker doesn’t just know Tony Stark, he realizes, feeling queasy all of a sudden. This is… this is—

Well. Flash doesn’t think he’s ever even seen his own parents look at him like that: with such profound and unconditional love.

So, Flash thinks as the bile rises up his throat, Peter Parker has even more than I thought he did. 

And as his classmates whisper excitedly all around him, hushed murmurs of oh my god Tony Stark knows Peter Parker making the air buzz with anticipation, Flash—for the first time in a long, long time—is completely silent in the face of new rumors about Peter Parker. Now, he knows the truth. They all do. And deep down in the inner workings of his mind, he finds himself unable to look away as his world comes crashing down around him.

After all, the truth hurts.)

It is these whispers that eventually attract Tony’s attention, and he reluctantly draws away from Peter to scan the area once more. It doesn’t take long before he spots the senior standing by the hood of a police car, hands twisted and cuffed behind his back. The student stumbles backwards and blanches visibly when Tony slowly—menacingly—rises to his feet and locks eyes with him.

Tony wonders what it is the student sees in his eyes. Wonders if the student can see the fear horror guilt grief anger –

For now, Tony settles on anger. Pushes down the all-consuming anguish so that anger is all he can feel, all he allows himself to feel. His jaw shifts tensely as the rage twitches and spasms inside him, burning bright with the force of a supernova. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this angry (read: hurt) before. 

Tony thought he knew anger. 

He was wrong.

This – this is anger the likes of which he’s never encountered before. This anger goes far beyond the rush of explosive fury at Yinsen’s murder; the ice-cold rage he felt at Stane’s betrayal; the mix of panic, wild urgency and volatile anger that consumed him as he faced the threat Loki posed to his home; the vulnerable, vengeful and defensive outrage that exploded inside him as he watched Bucky Barnes’ fingers curl around his mother’s throat; the hurt that devoured him and turned him blind with the need to attack attack attack (read: protect himself) as Steve Rogers turned against him.

This is anger that overwhelms—the type that threatens to crush him under its weight or boil him alive. It’s an anger that froths with every inch of affection he felt for Peter, every ounce of devotion and care and love.

It’s an anger that devastates.

(His kid is gone. All he has left to hold on to now, as he struggles to keep himself above water, is this.

Giving into grief will drown him. Giving into rage? It’ll destroy him, but at least it’ll be quick.)

He’s livid, and he takes that wrath and turns it into vitriol, stalking forward like a predator with prey in its sight. 

“Y-You’re Iron Man—” the student chokes, either a last-ditch attempt to distract Tony or an unspoken plea for mercy, Tony can’t tell, but he doesn’t care. 

He growls, a heartbroken howl disguised by the red-hot flame of fury, and lunges forward, grabbing the senior by the collar of his shirt. He yanks, vicious, and drags the senior up until he can barely touch the ground with his toes.

“Was it you?” he thunders, deaf to the alarmed protests of the police officers surrounding them. The student is quiet, the air frigid and taut between them, and Tony snarls, repeating himself, “I asked you a goddamn question, asshole. Was it you who killed Peter!?”

(Do you have any idea? he wants to say. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? To Peter? To May, to Ned, to that MJ girl? To Happy, to Rhodey, to Pep?

To me?

Congratulations, asshole. You managed to bring Tony Stark to his knees. And I have no idea… I have no idea—

He has no idea how to fix himself, how to pick up the pieces and glue himself back together in the face of the wreckage of a car crash and Peter Peter Peter and blood—Peter’s. 

It feels like the world has stopped, but Tony knows reality is crueler. He knows there is no end in sight, knows the world will keep on spinning and time will keep on marching and people will keep on living.

What he doesn’t know is how. 

How? How can he possibly live on? How can he live in a world without Peter, without his kid?)

The color drains out of the student’s face. Tony doesn’t give him a chance to answer before he’s growling and drawing back a fist, white-knuckled with tension. The officers’ protests grow louder, more desperate, but Tony pays them no heed. He can’t pay attention to anything at all beyond the buzz of Peter Peter Peter beating in time with his racing pulse. 

I’ll make you pay. My kid deserved better, he thinks, knows—

His kid.

He stills.

In life, Peter had been the kindest, most gentle person he knew. Peter had been generous and considerate and immeasurably selfless. 

Peter had believed in second chances.

Tony closes his eyes in defeat, the breath leaving him in a frustrated hiss. Tony would gladly raze the world to ashes for Peter, but Peter had never been one to condone violence. Don’t fight fire with fire, the kid would say, shaking his head in something between exasperation and fondness. It’ll only burn you, too. 

(Tony would gladly burn alive if it meant Peter was safe. He’d willingly let the inferno take him if only—

If only.)

Tony lets go of the student’s shirt and pushes him away with enough force to send him staggering backwards. “Don’t think that you’ve been forgiven,” he seethes, dark and lethal. “You should be fucking grateful that my kid was ten times the person you are.”

(Peter is—was, Tony reminds himself with an ache in his chest—ten times the person Tony is. Peter has always been better than the rest of them, with his heart of gold, his tendency to care about everyone he meets, his unfailing optimism, his compassion, his peerless sense of duty and morality, his earnestness and genuineness—

He was so much better, Tony thinks. He was the very best of us, and—

And somehow, Peter had believed in him. Peter was always the first person to have faith in him, to trust him and support him. Peter had been his greatest and most ardent supporter—the kid’s confidence in him had never wavered, even when Tony’s own self-confidence did.

Despite all of his failures, despite the blood that stains his hands to this day, Peter has always seen good in him. For some unfathomable reason, Peter—who possessed more goodness in his bleeding heart than anyone else Tony knows—looked up to him.

He didn’t deserve it. He failed Peter. 

I couldn’t save him—)

The senior student falls back against the police car, violent tremors running through his body. “I don’t – I don’t understand,” Douglas Fitzpatrick whimpers pitifully. Principal Morita hadn’t told him anything about a surprise guest appearance—much less about Tony Stark being that guest. He tries to gather his thoughts, tries to process the situation as he wonders if this is all simply part of the demonstration—maybe the event organizers wanted to use the hysterical reaction of a bystander to further drive the point home and remind the students that their actions have consequences. But why Tony Stark? 

Or, better yet: how? How, when Tony Stark is unarguably the single most influential man in the entire world, thanks to both his limitless fortune as the owner of Stark Industries and his prodigious fame as Iron Man? When Tony Stark is the same tech tycoon who regularly spends his time among the fellow elite—CEOs, military generals, and world leaders alike? When Tony Stark is an Avenger—the Avenger—who reforged himself into a superhero in a dark cave in Afghanistan, right under his kidnappers’ noses?

Finally, Douglas shakes his head and backs away from the famous Avenger, closing his eyes to the sight of Actual Tony Goddamn Stark staring at him with pure hate in his eyes. This doesn’t feel like a performance. 

“What… what are you talking about? I didn’t do anything,” he insists, breaking character in an effort to escape Mr. Stark’s judgmental, recriminating gaze. Who wouldn’t break under Iron Man’s stare? “I didn’t do anything!”

His desperate protests only seem to dig him an even deeper grave. Tony’s glare darkens inexplicably. “You ‘didn’t do anything’?” he echoes, a laugh that is both hollow and hysterical forcing its way out of his throat. “You didn’t— no. No. I’m not letting you escape this, escape what you did.” I haven’t been able to escape it. Not since I found out. Not even for a second. “I was interrupted in the middle of one of the most boring board meetings I’ve ever sat through by an alert and a fucking post on social media. I had to find out through a goddamn Twitter post.” The words come out hissed, simmering with something deadly, his voice fluctuating at random points. Unstable. He certainly feels unstable, reminiscent of a ticking time bomb, as if one misstep from the handcuffed student might set him off.

Tony pauses, a niggling feeling at the back of his head reminding him of something. Something crucial. 

Tick. Tick.

Tick.

The Tweet—Tony remembers with sudden, sickening clarity, the heartless caption that had accompanied the posted obituary. 

[as if anyone would even miss parker, lol]

Renewed rage blazes in the pit of his stomach, sparking a growing fire. He’s hit with the sudden and powerful urge to revisit the Tweet that started all of this and hunt down the poster who dismissed Peter’s life with careless ease, completely unaware of how much brighter Peter made Tony’s own life. Unaware of how lucky they were, to have shared a school with the most brilliant kid Tony has ever met.

‘As if anyone would miss him’? That’s… oh, god. I would, he thinks, nauseous. I would miss him. Pete knows that, right? That I’d miss him. That I already do miss him.

Peter has to know that, or…

Tony shakes off the line of thought before the possibility of Peter not knowing, of Peter doubting how much he means to Tony, can send him into a tailspin. Instead, he focuses on the present, on the asshole currently shrinking away from him. 

Tony corrals his new, different anger into a vault for the moment. He can figure out who was cruel enough to post those words later. For now, he lets his original festering rage at the student driver solidify into lead, into poison. 

“You’re not escaping this,” Tony reiterates, unrelenting. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.” If not in blood, then I’m at least going to make you pay in prison. I won’t stop until I do. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Douglas continues to plead his case, face scrunched up in desperation. “I – I swear. Whatever you think I did, I didn’t do it. I didn’t! I don’t know what I could’ve possibly done! We’ve never even met before, Mr. Stark.”

The name ‘Mr. Stark’ sounds wrong on this student’s tongue, twisted and tarnished. It sounds nothing like how Peter says the name, like a familiar nickname instead of a distant moniker. It feels like a glaring blemish on his memory of Peter; it feels like a betrayal. 

“Don’t,” Tony bites out. “Don’t you dare”—ruin my memory of Peter, the only thing I have left of him thanks to you—“say my name as if you have any right. I suggest you tread very carefully from now on, because as it is, I’m already looking forward to seeing you sentenced to prison forever. Piss me off again, and you won’t like what happens next.”

“Mr. Stark!” an unfamiliar voice interjects, sounding flustered and more than a little beleaguered. Tony whips around to find a middle-aged man in an off-the-rack suit and a horrendous mustard yellow tie jogging up to him, looking harried. Tony vaguely recognizes him as Peter’s principal—Morrison or Morita or something like that. “Mr. Stark, please. You’re making a scene.”

Tony’s jaw drops. ‘Making a scene’? He’s making a scene? Not for the first time today, an overwhelming torrent of emotions explodes in his chest. A staggering indignation at the realization that, at a time like this, the principal’s primary concern seems to be maintaining appearances for public perception, as though Peter is but an afterthought. A monumental, bone-shattering agony—a sort of pain bigger than bruised ribs and broken bones, sharper than shrapnel in his chest, stronger than palladium poisoning—at the thought of how hurt Peter—Peter, who holds nothing but the utmost respect for his principal and his teachers—would be to realize how little he factored into his own principal’s priorities. A reinvigorated, unquenchable thirst to ravage everyone who’s ever wronged his kid and everyone who’s ever looked the other way.

Tony snaps his jaw shut. His expression shutters, shock at the interruption turning into frost. The indignation burns low in his gut, ignorable only because Tony already has his sights set on another target. “I suggest you get the hell out of my way. This is the only warning you’ll get, so I’d advise you to make the smart move and take it,” he utters quietly, but the low volume of his voice does nothing to undermine the deterrent in it. If anything, it only makes Tony sound more dangerous, his words less of an impulsive threat and more of a solemn vow. His voice is one that guarantees retribution.

The principal—it’s definitely Morita, Tony recalls—balks noticeably. “Mr. Stark,” he starts apprehensively, his own voice hesitant as if he believes he’s approaching a wild animal that might decide to attack him at any moment. 

Tony immediately looks askance at Morita, silently exhorting the man to choose your next words with caution, and Morita gulps audibly—but decidedly continues to stand firm in front of Tony. Tony would be impressed by the principal’s courage in the face of the Avenger who singlehandedly flew a nuclear missile into a wormhole if it weren’t for the fact that his kid is still lying dead behind him and Morita doesn’t even seem to care, defending a student who doesn’t deserve it. 

Morita clears his throat anxiously. “Please refrain from threatening my students, Mr. Stark. I'm not sure what Mr. Fitzpatrick has done to earn your ire, but regardless, he is still a minor.”

A minor, Tony echoes in his mind, brimming with contempt. A minor. Tony has to fight to bite back the instinctive response that leaps to his mind: And what about Peter, huh? Another minor—one who was in your care, who was under your protection while at this school? What about him, Morita? Or does he not matter? His well-being, his life, his future?

“I don’t give a shit what ‘Mr. Fitzpatrick’ is,” he grits out, struggling to rein in the anger enough to sound measured when all he wants is to tear into Fitzpatrick. “Prison would be a mercy after what he’s done.”

Tony glances to the side to find that the student in question looks visibly nauseous, face ashen and horrified. “P-Prison?” Fitzpatrick stutters. “I don’t... I’ve never even committed a crime!” he protests, voice insistent and pleading. “I haven’t, Mr. Stark. I think there’s been a misunderstanding.”

The words the only misunderstanding here is why the hell you’re still seeing the light of day are on the tip of his tongue, begging to be unleashed. At the last second, however, Tony pauses, his eyes narrowing. There’s something off about this entire situation. 

It’s only when Douglas squirms uneasily, looking for a way out—looking for absolution—that it hits Tony. The student in front of him is sober, he realizes. Or at the very least, he doesn’t sound drunk; he isn’t slurring his words in the slightest. He may be stammering, but Tony can tell that’s from sheer nervousness, not inebriation. The student doesn’t even look drunk—there’s no visible flush to his neck and chest, no wild-eyed look on his face. 

Even more tellingly, Tony can’t smell the familiar, pungent stench of booze on the student’s breath. 

There is nothing to indicate that the student was recently wasted enough to accidentally crash into an innocent bystander. (Into Peter.)

(Honestly, Tony’s a little ashamed that it took him this long to notice the student’s glaring lack of insobriety, but then again, he has been a little preoccupied with the thought that he’s lost his kid, so he figures he gets a pass on not being at the top of his game just this once.)

Tony’s narrow-eyed stare sharpens. An accusatory demand—what the ever-loving fuck is going on here—is already on its way up his throat when he’s cut off before he can even open his mouth.

A familiar voice groans behind them, drowsy and fatigued. Tony freezes, his heart thudding loudly in his chest, and for a moment, everything else sounds muted to his ears as his focus zeroes in on that single brief groan.

Peter.

:::

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

#marvel #mcu #iron dad #irondad and spiderson #spiderman #iron man #peter parker #tony stark #marvel fanfiction #iron dad fanfiction #ned leeds #flash thompson #irondad angst #trope: presumed dead #faye writes

[soranihimawari]

Shatter continued

A story in several parts:

tw: reader chan’s sibling is a toxic force to be reckoned with; officers mentioned in later parts (civil servants for young adults); mentions of accidents and scarring [both emotional and physical]; young adult 18+ for strong and suggestive language

word count: 6.8 K 

tagging @oikawa-obvs​ @m0nstergeneration20xx​

the characters and other tie in works:

seijoh 4: oikawa, iwazumi, hanamaki, mattsun

spin off of the Running at 6a.m. feat. hanamaki and his s/o [plus s/o family]

Little side notes: mattsukawa issei means “it’s all right.” // fuyu no rairakku fuji means “my beautiful wisteria tree” // mitsuketa means “I have you”

Throughout this story, mattsun & q learn how important the actions of others does not define a set path.

Images based via Pinterest

Image 2 based off this post

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III

The day before you leave back to your side of the city, you tell your friend what has transpired between you and mattsun on movie night:

“That’s great! I knew he’d like you. They all do,” she says. “I mean, you did fall asleep next to him for a little while before they walked us home that night.” 

“Yeah, I know,” you reply. “I’ll be out with him all day…”

“You’re not going to know what hits you until it shows, Q.” 

“Life is not like the hallmark movie channel, Chise!” 

Your friend’s stubbornness and your counter argument came to a close when her aunt and uncle stepped in to act as a mediator between the two of you… 

“Your sister is coming to pick you up, Q,” her uncle informs you. The news was not a welcomed one at all; the blood in your veins ran cold. 

“What?! Uncle, you can’t be serious,” your friend states, wide eyed. “Q just got here…She can’t go back! Her sister is not right. Please recon—”

“There’s nothing we can do,” her aunt replies. She explains all the sound reasonings why. 

“How long do I have?” You wonder. Chise storms out of the room and when you hear her door shut, you inhale and exhale a deep breath silently counting down before you rationally think things through. You were gone for a total of four days & three nights; it takes about an hour or so for the train, but if your sister does a ride share, you have less than that. 

“She’s on her way, isn’t she?” Your voice betrayed your expression. 

“Yes,” you’ve never seen your friend’s uncle so abruptly twist in disgust. You know both he and his wife would try anything to help you, but considering how they presented the facts, it was going to be a losing battle.

Nodding, you thank them both for the news and the hospitality they offered, but you ask them to leave as politely as you can. You were seventeen years old when you realized that the hardest thing and right thing are not always the same.

IV

Your sister wasn’t always this way. She was the elder & you needed to listen to her. You were always like water, one with the moon & stars; she was like fire, warm and with enough energy to harbor the solar flares. She wasn’t always an unhappy brute; the accident that tore your family apart was the catastrophe which estranged you to this day. 

“What do you mean Q’s leaving?” Makki asks. He sits up hearing his girlfriend’s voice fall into a panic. 

“It’s an emergency; you know I told you about y/n’s relative right?” 

“Yeah. What’s wrong?”

“Takahiro, I’m worried for Q because that’s the one who’s coming to pick her up. She can’t go back to that house on a whim! Her sister might beat her up worse than before!”

“Stay where you are. I’m getting a hold of Iwazumi & Mattsun.”

“Mmk. Hurry because I don’t know what time that witch is arriving.”

—18:43—

“Call the authorities,” was what you hear your friend’s relative instructs. One of them has to keep the objective line of sight here and now all there is left to do is wait.

You stand outside your friends house with a dark expression. Your sister’s arrival meant you could try to fight, yet you knew words are just as damaging. You come face to face with her just as the boys arrive. 

“Come little sister,” she says. You don’t move. Your friend is behind you, but when the boys arrived she lets them in the side gate: Makki leads followed by Iwa, and finally Mattsun. Your friend fills them in and now they stand at the ready to help you if you need it.

“Q. Come now. Don’t make it anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“No.” Your voice is absolute. 

“No?” She sarcastically replied with a scoff. 

“Did I stutter?” You retort. Your friend and her family is on the porch watching this. 

“I don’t know what your game is, but this is a family affair…”

“Do not bring them into this mess,” you warn as you walk toward the spot on the lawn where your sister stands. There is a few feet of grass between you. 

“Enough,” she says in a menacing tone. “Quantum stop being foolish before I burn you and cast you out. Black sheep or not, you are my sister and you will do as I say.”

She takes out a lighter from her purse and one of the oldest journals you have. It was a tome you had since you started middle school.

“Burn it for all I care,” you spat. “Because as far as I am concerned, we are no longer family. You stopped being in mine before I started high school you bitch. Touch me again and I will make you regret finding me.” 

At this point, your teeth are bared and your voice is as even as it can me. You know there is truth in those words, but with your found family behind you, you have the higher ground. 

“Like hell little sister,” she spits. “I rather you drop dead and die because you are what makes me insane: this ends today.” 

You sister burns the book regardless. You stomp out the flames in time that a good portion of the damage book is scorched down to a delightful singe. You wonder how long your sister has been without her medication. The gargantuan illness does not leave her nor do you want to find out because the shadow of her hands comes into contact with your left side of your face. 

She leaves without batting an eye at you. Rather, you feel the residual sting of a slap across your face from a hand that is not your own. The sound is like a whip cracking in the wind.

“Mattsun, Iwazumi,” your friend’s face is pulled into Makki’s side where he whispers something in her ear, probably to watch you say the final nail in the coffin:

“You have no power over me; I am not afraid of you,” you defy her orders again. 

“You cheeky little shit,” your sister says before your fist makes direct contact with her face and when it knocks her to your left, you roundhouse kick her in the ribs thus knocking her wind out of her. 

“Did you know she could fight like that?” Makki asks. Your fist is unclenching because your wrath is unlike anything they’ve witnessed, sure Iwazumi smacks Oikawa with a volleyball, but when ther collectively see what you can do, they look at each other. Except Mattsun, he reads the situation and what you told him at the movie night the day before finally clicks.

I am not ready because I am not fully healed yet. I am left alone to deal with my own demons. Everyone has dragons to slay and for today that dragon is your sister. His thoughts are strung together, yet he sees what you mean in practice and honestly it explains your cynicism, your perception of what it means to have someone who is just as toxic and how they tried to break you. 

“Holy shit,” you clearly hear your friend gasp behind you when she pushes herself off of Makki. When your sister lands on the concrete border of the lawn, you don’t care to notice the winter wind whipping around your short locks. Your breathing is becoming more unstable, yet when you stand to inspect the damage done, you glance down with an oddly satisfying expression: You’re a survivor and you’d be damned if your sister thinks she could shatter you further. 

You pick your sister up by the collar until she is eye level with you. You whisper something in her ear which makes her furious: “Fuck you and the high horse you rode in on sister.” 

“Go,” your best friend says one word while Makki holds her back; Mattsukawa and Iwazumi sprint to where you are holding your sister and all that woman sees is red thereafter.

Her mouth lets out an in humane scream as she lunged forward, her hands have a vice grip on your exposed flash. You feel her nails dig and leave marks. The action carried through as hands reach for your neck to crush your windpipe. You know of the western saying “to choke on your words,” but you’d never thought of it being done physically.

As soon as this occurs, you notice your sister’s wrists are almost snapped by the sheer force Mattsukawa exerts in holding you from behind. Your gasping for air is by far one of the most horrifyingly haunting things he’s ever heard (and you all you can emote is telagraphing I am terrified. Don’t let me go). It takes you a moment to register that it is because you hear him breathe behind you.

“I got you,” Mattsun holds you; he holds you for as long he can to make sure you don’t slip on the residual frost on the lawn. He runs a hand through your hair calming you down further. Your hands are not by your side anymore, rather you feel them grasp on to his own. You close your eyes and he repeats those three words until your breathing and panic subsided.

This occurs while Iwazumi corners your sister and she leaves your friends’ property. Sirens wail in the distance and it doesn’t take very long for the authorities to take your sister into custody for verbal and physical abuse charges whereas you claim self-defense. It’s hard to talk currently, so you write it out on the report form. Makki and your best friend are filling out witness statements while Iwazumi is being checked out by one of the health officials right after you sign the report documents. Mattsun doesn’t leave your line of sight at all, for that you are grateful. Your knuckles have the suture glue on them aid the healing process. The EMT gives you a neosporin antiseptic for the scratches on yout face left behind from the slap your received from the guilty party already in the backseat of the squad car that had already left for the booking station in the west side of the neighborhood.

When the witness statements are done, you are asked to come to the precinct first thing in the morning for a secondary assessment for your wounds,but this is bypassed as soon as you mentioned your previous case serial numbers.

“She’s as lucky as they come,” one of the officers says in passing. “We’ve been trying to pin her relative’s location because of the fact this isn’t her sibling’s first attempt at attempted murder.”

“You did the right thing as soon as you called sir,” his partner praises your friend’s aunt and uncle. “That woman is a danger to herself and others. How did one sister’s grief spiral while the other chose to move forward is beyond me, but miss Q has some good people around her.”

“She’s our niece’s closest friend, so please make sure that woman has all ties cut with the victim,” you heard her uncle say.  “We’ll take her in, but please make the arrangements to have some of her things brought here before the holidays.”

“Understood sir,” the first officer says tilting his hat. “Ma’am, we’ll be going then. Good day.”

Iwazumi takes his leave shortly thereafter and reminds Makki to give you all some space. Mattsun asks if it’s ok to take you away for a couple of hours. You finish passing along the case files while this occurs. You’re not ready to talk about what just happened, but you find yourself ready to move past this ordeal. Families are different, yet your relationship with your sister is one of the worst after the story of biblical twins.

“Of course. Take her out for as long as she needs. You have my number, so text me later,” your friend says with a warm smile. She bops her head toward where you still stood basking in the frosty atmosphere. “Gods know she needs a break. Oh, and Mattsun?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.” She hugs hun quietly along with her uncle who lays a hand on his shoulder. Her aunt mentioned something about how they’re going to remodel the room you stayed in to a permanent one. “She is family after all,” was the last thing he heard as the three of them went back inside their home.

On that note, Mattsukawa returns back to your side. He marvels at your new marks bestowed by what had transpired a couple hours ago. It’s nearly eight in the evening on a Tuesday night. Winter break has finally come, but here he notices you’re ok. Or rather, as ok as you make it seem.

“I should get you a bell,” your sense of humor is impeccable, but when the tears that never come do make their way known in other ways, you stop to turn your face back to the skies. You close your eyes thanking whatever lucky stars you have for having good people gravitate toward you; with one final breath, you return your focus back to your guard dog even if he towers over you with enough power to eclipse the graying skies. As he reaches for your hand, you know this is the first time he sees a glimpse of how much you shine. 

“It’s quiet now,” you said, returning your undivided attention to him. “Thank you.” 

The young middle blocker moves forward with you mentioning something along the lines of you had a date to keep. 

“Do you still want to go?” He asks you this to gage how you’d react. He doesn’t want you to over exert yourself, so when you say yes, he leads the way to one of the closer neighboring shopping plazas.

One trip to a tea shop down the street leads you and him to have a quaint seat by a window. The both of you talk like old friends. You don’t let the dread of what looms over you break you, you’ve been through worse and you’re not going to let anything happen to make him feel like that again. You could tell how frightened he really was earlier when he kept you in front of him on the lawn. You pour some more mango black tea into your cup. You know you two barely say much, yet an entire epic is laid out between you two.

Not a word is said because there is an definite understanding in the delicate exchange here. Mattsun sips his tea and as he learns you’re exhausted of fighting on your own. It dawns on you if given the chance stories about being wronged in the past leads you to be bound by love later on. Tell me you want to help me too, Mattsukawa.

“If you’ll have me, please let me be your kintsugi,” he places the dwarf tea cup down on its saucer. You sit across from him as the fluorescent lighting causes your eyes to flicker amusedly at his features. You rest your chin in your hand when he does this. 

“You don’t have to ask,” you reassure him. With your free hand, you hold one of his with residual heat. Why are you doing this? You like each other. Hell, he’s the one who made sure you’re alive. He’s amazingly kind, so what is stopping you? 

“I already run with you at six in morning. It’s plausible after--Mattsun? Hold on a sec. Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I like you,” Mattsun’s voice is as casual as he makes it seem. Don’t make me go through that again; I almost didn’t get the chance to show you how amazing you really are.

You see what he means behind those eyes of his. He’s honest, kind, and strong; almost like steel, but you’re just as strong like titanium. You work well together, you think. If this is what it feels to fall in like with someone, you’d proactively seek it every time from him until you learn how to love yourself for all parts of you. He has a subtle way of telling you he likes you. Acts of love and kindness aside, you want to cherish this setting, precisely because you live the way you tease him in a friendly manner. For a moment, the veil of winter’s shouldering dreariness stops. Your lips curl into a Cheshire’s grin. His heart nearly stops for the second time that day.

“I like you too,” you chuckle. “Who knew you were such a romantic at heart Mattsukawa?”

“You did.”

You nod. “I should have known. So, where would you like to take me now?”

After you two finish speaking at the teahouse, Mattsun escorts you toward another part of the same plaza. Your face illuminates in the refraction of the street lamps, your hands bump into each others whilst you walk the promenade.

There are no words exchanged because neither of you want to see each other with the image seared into your minds’ eye; his arms that evening were clicking on to your waist, his his center of gravity shifting so when he pulls your body backwards, you hear his voice reminding you he has you, you’re safe here. You nodding closing your eyes when his warmth emits a calming aura. You both ignore the subject, but you’re really fucking thankful to have him (along with the company you keep, each showing a different type of love from the international myths you loved to read): you both walk with the same thoughts that evening: Don’t scare me like that again, whatever you do, stay alive. We haven’t even seen what our story might look like. Just please, prove to me you’re still here; catch the fire from me to you and live.

Mattsukawa and you walk past a pillar and stop to take a glance at the community announcement boards. A few of the paper lanterns are already lit. The street lamps are beginning to hum.

“There’s a night market happening,” you read aloud, slowly, you feel yourself relaxing more into your surroundings. Your hand points to the sign and Mattsukawa notices the minute change in your behavior. You’re much more free and outgoing than before; you’re a winter’s tale and a dahlia, but he knows the flower thing might be a tad bit off, so he keeps that content to himself for now.

“We’ll take the others here later,” he informs you about thinking about how his classmates, especially Oikawa, would handle not coming.

“If you say so,” you reply. You both continue to walk and browse through the various shops, but when he takes you into one the art stores, you ask him to wait a moment to let other patrons walk in. He is perceptive enough to understand your feelings, so he does what he thinks is best: he reminds you you aren’t going inside alone. 

“I got you,” Mattsukawa repeats from earlier. “We’ll go inside whenever you’re ready. Does that sound fair to you?”

“...ok.”

“Do you want to go call it a day then?” 

The moment you nod, he walks at a quicken pace. Eventually you tell him to slow down when you pass by a neighboring plaza. This one was more serene than the last.

“What’s on your mind?” You ask you impromptu date. 

I’m learning to trust you a little more and I’m afraid of this continues, would you run from me? 

“Mattsukawa. Don’t overthink it,” your voice is unmistakably calm, yet it is driving him to let go and live a little; so you do. You let his hand go for a little while, and now you stand in front of him and you have a mischievous glint in them. 

Fuck it. I don’t care if you’re here for four days or four minutes. I am not running away from this, from you, and the possibility of you staying.

Mattsukawa tilts your face up with one of his fingers and when you feel his lips ghost over your own, you close the gap. First kisses in the winter are not rare, but the ambiance of being surrounded by the wisteria trees dyes the world into a violet haze. Love is not as fickle as you think. This one is different, you both relish in this display of affection. He breaks the kiss briefly, and to him, seeing you like this makes him finally understand the sentiment of seeing a whole universe in one person.

You stop him dead in his tracks because as soon as you feel Mattsukawa’s warmth leave your face, you understand how much he was holding back; you both were. His face is tinged a little bit flushed out slightly by the curious softened stare you give him. He wanted to see you worked up before, but he wasn’t expecting to see you act so hastily. You drag your bottom lip through your teeth before you sigh much to your own chagrin because you knew what he felt was true.

“Mmhm,” you’re driving him insane in this short game of stolen glances because he received no further warning when you pull his lips back on yours. Your hands traverse upward from where your hands initially were on his shoulders and eventually looping around his neck. There is a secret kindness you want him to have; he owns this part of you, the wild capricious love of the cold is gorgeously delightful. You’re ok even when he deepens this kiss and he draws this sounds of want and need from you the more you let him. You taste his love in the way your hands love to tousle his hair; you hear his chest rumble in amusement when he opens his mouth slightly teasing you with the residual taste of the tea from earlier. Don’t be afraid to fall, you muse.

Mattsukawa draws you in closer to him as he snakes one arm around the small of your back while the other hand he has used to tilt your face moves to your shoulder before finding solace on your neck. He lost a to the way you move your body and you both don’t succumb to each other’s prowess. What you both crave you found in each other. He dips you to one side like in those old movies you so love. You’re mine, my dear; irreplaceable and hopelessly in my loving arms. Safe you’ll always be.

You catch your breathing when you part, he places you back in a standstill position. You’re smiling together, like a firefly lamp in the summer, casting a halo ring around you two. A few of the flowers are blown away in the brief wind and apparently land all around scattered like gorgeous mosaics on the concrete. You turn your head slightly to hear his heart drum on; you tell him things via tracing the kanji on his shirt little messages like “future,” “brave,” “loyal,” “true,” etc. he chuckles because it tickles a bit, but he reminds you wildhearts can’t be broken so easily. You concur taking a deep breath, watching as your exhale leaves little pufts of moisture to dissipate in the air. He rests his head against your shoulder in a slight variation of an acknowledging bow; his breath tickles against the nape of your neck, his mouth teasingly nips at the midpoint of your ear.

“Fuyu no rairakku fuji,” he crowns you a new name; his lips press against your cheekbone. You grin at the new nickname.

“Mattsukawa Issei,” you remind him when you two begin walking again and he pauses dumbfounded by the tone you use. It dawns on him that perhaps his best friend’s girl told you his name in full. You return the wisteria name he bestowed upon you with a much simpler one for him. “Mitsuketa.”

— spring forward—

You wonder if he could remember that when you sleepover for the first time; you find out he can and does so the moment he lays you down on his bed to make you remember how being loved by him is going to leave you breathless one step at a time, and true to his word, his hands are sturdy.

This love is messy, but you enjoy every moment of being enamored by him. You don’t look back anymore, but forward when he calls your new name right as you pull him back toward you before you both ruin the sheets that support you. You place a hand over his chest to stabilize his figure over you. “Watashi no utsukushī fuji,” his voice has you defenseless the moment you humbly accept him as solely yours.

“My first love, come here,” your lips were always inviting toward him and he listens to the way you both praise each other while he brings your unscarred arm above your head; your scars are now inked with wild wisteria flowers he so affectionately called you a few months ago.

Luckily one of your case workers knew someone in Miyagi who does tattoos pro bono for victims of abuse survivors. Languid wisteria blossoms iluminate your arms under a blacklight, but the white ink outlines remain visible like small embroideries tying you to the blossom to ward off evil. The subject came about one evening during the routine cafe shoppe run with the boys and your best friend:

“All I’m saying is that if she wants it done, we know someone in Miyagi who can,” Makki reasons with your friend.

“I was thinking about it,” you speak up before your friend completes her ‘harrumph.’

The table falls quiet. “I was thinking of having the wisteria blooms cover the worse of it.”

“Wisteria, huh?” Oikawa asks. “I think that’s a good choice. Iwa-Chan! Let’s— ”

“No.” Honestly, when he found out what had transpired via the group chat with his friends, he nearly cut his family vacation short to fly back to check on you.

Instead, Iwazumi took over by sending him photos of both Makki and your best friend eating a crepe one night followed by one of you and Mattsukawa after he gifted you a wisteria branch necklace.

Presently, your hand coaxes Mattsukawa into leaving marks of his love blatantly across the exposed parts let him meet. The bruises his lips left behind are just as intoxicating as you remember.

“You’re still so daring,” his voice drowns out the pleasurable noise you let him hear.

“You’re~ahh~ staring,” your hands find their way to the collar of his half undone dress shirt. He pauses for a moment, smirking through his gaze when he envelopes you in his arms. Your hands are too quick when you unbutton the rest of his shirt. You’re wearing one of your old high school gym baseball shirts when you came over to visit for spring break. (The first time you sleep overnight was quite entertaining to say the least, but you both prove you’re capable of this sort of love too.) His hands move to coerce your legs slide over his thighs and here you sit, knees slightly bent and he has you where you both want to be.

Your breathing is ragged and labored as he kisses you slowly, hands slipping under your shirt.

“Please," your voice is barely above a whisper. One word was all he needed and fuck were you worth it. Mattsukawa assists you in pulling that fabric over your head before you push him down back on the bed. Your arms are cut around his shoulders for support as he picks up where his kisses left off. Your love bites haven’t fully disappeared yet from last time: bites across the mounds of your breasts are yellowing now; the ones over the inside of your thighs are still healing beautifully. His wisdom lurks in how well you handle his sexual desires with every time you consent to it. You both seek no other tangible means to prove how far you’ve come (with and without his help).

“You’re still pretty,” he says. He marvels at the fact you’re still with him in the present moment. Your hair is tangled in his hands and he beckons you to make him remember what you told him in the park one winters day.

“Mesmerizing me is what you do best,” your mouth haunts his own pulling out the lewd sounds of his satisfaction. He hisses as you return his favor; he holds you tighter until you are comfortable in his hold. Those eyes of his remain on yours because you told him the first time to keep his eyes forward.

“You’re really something else,” he groans as you bite the space in the space between his shoulder and neck. You don’t let him come undone without you a little less than an hour later; he makes good on his promise of always saying he got you and you return with remembering you have him. You ran with him every day at six in the morning for a solid year, but forgot that sexual escapades with him are more often a marathon than not. Eventually, you catch up to him, and the cycle begins anew with you. Mattsukawa is a fierce lover, but within the walls you share with him, he realizes you’re just as lethal as a jaguar in his bed.

Yes, love in the spring always came in waves for the outside world, it here, once the sheets were changed, you and Mattsukawa take care of each other first before he has your drowsy form (smelling like the rain) clean and clothed in just an old pajama top of his (he wears a pair of a different style sleep pant) he lays you down first before he climbs in with you.

Loving each other is never as messy as you heard from those around you. It’s only because you both let each other propel forward; your love is maddening since you and Mattsukawa are firm believers the shattering parts make you the most beautiful. So when you wake up in each other’s touch, his lips always trace over the sides of you where he loves you strongest, whistling the melodies that cause flowers to bloom.

End

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#mattsukawa x reader #tw: violence #tw: toxic behavior #tw: mentions of scars physical and emotional #tw: death and blame #reader chan learns she is strong too #angst to fluff #this be some heavy shite #🌻— flying around collecting pollen—queue #🌻.txt #🌻sora scribbles

[jj-lynn21]

Castlerock: All Hallows Eve Ch 2

Ch 2: Accident

Ch 1: Creation  ch 3 chaos

continuation of characters from  A Castlerock New Year’s Eve party

Warnings: angst, jealousy, creepiness, lots of Steven King Book /movie references.  

tags @loomiz​ @dragsraksllib​ @super-pink-a-palouza​ @goblincxnt​ @grandpa-sweaters​ @waywardtigersandwich​ @sunshineandskarsgards​ @taintedglass​

“Of course, you can go with me my King.” Genevieve giggled. “You’re right, Henry, while we are in Castlerock. You are so Brilliant.”  

She grabbed the newly created clay statue. Then she took up the paintings under her arm. She was running a little late, but he assured her the paintings would be bought from the gallery. They would be placed where they needed to be. 

Nadine had been trying to get a hold of her. She was getting worried when Gen didn’t answer her cellphone, so she clocked out early telling her boss it was an emergency.

“I know she is jealous.” Genevieve talked to the hooded robe clad six-inch clay statue sitting in the passenger seat. “Alright I will call her. But I still don’t think I should tell her about you.” She sighed. “Alright.” She parked in front of the gallery and called Nadine.

Nadine fumbled for the phone in her purse as she was driving. When she looked away just for a second a semi-truck came barreling around the corner less than a mile ahead. The driver swerved toward her as his coffee dumped in his lap.

Nadine answers the phone. “Fuck woman I have been trying to call you for...oh shit.” She sees the truck coming straight for her and screams.

“Nadine!” Genevieve screamed into her cellphone.  

A horn blared on the other side of the phone. Nadine had swerved just before the semi-truck hit her head on. She went off the road slamming into a tree. Her head smacked into the wheel before the air bag decided to deploy. She sat up blood drizzling down between her eyes.

“I’m alright.” Nadine said more to herself than Gen on the phone. She was in shock.  

“Stay there, Nadine.” Genevieve begged here. “Don’t try to move. I will call 911.”

“I’m good.” Nadine mumbled as her eyes got heavy. Light headedness over took her.

Gen hung-up. “I know I’m late, but I have to call 911.” she pounded the numbers frantically. “No, I will do it after. They will wait.”

“Hello, 911. How can I help?” The operator said.

“My girlfriend was in an accident.” Genevieve cried.

“Can I get your name?” The operator asked calmly.

“Genevieve Duchamp.” Gen answered.

“Okay Genevieve, is she bleeding?” The operator was typing as she questioned the caller. “What is your girlfriends name?”

“She isn’t with me.” Alligator tears ran down Gen’s cheeks. “I think she lost control of her car. I was returning her call and thought she was at work. But she was driving home because I didn’t answer her call. She was in the accident because of me.”

“It’s not your fault Genevieve.” The operator tried to calm her. “What is your girlfriends name? Do you know the route she could have taken from work?”  

“Her name is Nadine Tessio.” Gen grabbed a tissue from her purse to dab her eyes. “She usually takes Maple Street up the hill to our place on Red Way. “

“Thank you, Genevieve.” The operator kept typing. “I am dispatching search and rescue to that stretch of road. Just try to stay calm. Take a few deep breaths. They will be taking her to Derry Medical.”

“I can be there in twenty minutes.” Gen started her car back up.

“Don’t rush over there Genevieve.” The operator advised. “Nadine would not want you getting in an accident.”

“I won’t rush.” Gen took a deep breath. “Thank you. I will. I know it is important to you.” was the last thing the operator heard before Genevieve hung up.  

She was hearing his voice again telling her she had to take the art inside. The paintings of him had to get to their destination. That would only happen through this gallery.  

“Alright, I guess you're right.” She turned the car back off. “But you stay here. I hope they still take them. I am an hour and a half late.”  

Genevieve got the paintings inside. The curator rushed over to her.  

“I’m so glad you finally got here.” The man snapped his fingers and a someone came out from the back with bubbly water and hors d'oeuvres. “I just put some feelers out about getting these and practically have them sold already. I didn’t know what I was going to do if you decided not to sell. Have a snack and a drink while we sign the paperwork.”

“Thank you, Mr.?” She put the paintings against the wall before sitting at a table nearby.”

“I’m Mr. Gaunt.” The man studied the paintings closely. “Mr. Edward Gaunt. These are really memorizing, Miss. Duchamp. Five thousand for all ten, correct?”

“That sounds reasonable.” She grabbed the papers. “Where do I sign. I want to get this done quickly. I had an emergency situation come up so I would like to get to that.”

Mr. Gaunt smirked as he sat in the chair across from her. “Of course. Sign the bottom of the pages and I will write a check. I didn’t mean to keep you longer than you wished.”  

She thought he sounded a little creepy. She quickly signed the twenty-page contract. Then left with a nice fat check that more than likely would go to her girl’s hospital stay. Genevieve raced to the hospital.

“I don’t know that for sure, Henry.” She talked to the statue on the way. “Of course, I will still throw the party. You will protect me, right?”

Nadine was stumbling on the side of the road when the search and rescue vehicles found her. Blood was dried to her face. A cut was visible though her sliced up jeans. Her hands cut up from crawling part of the way before getting up to stand.  

The EMT cleaned her wounds and put steri strips on the worst slashes until the Doctor could stitch her up. Nadine mumbled incoherently as they rushed her to Derry Medical.  

Genevieve was worried when she talked to an ER nurse and all they knew was that no one had been brought in for hours. She was panicking as sirens could be heard from an ambulance pulling in the bay. The double doors opened at the side entrance.

“Is she alright?” Gen screamed as they were pushing Nadine down the hall to an open room. “What happened?”

A security guard pulled her back from the scene. The curtain closed. The doctor, nurse and several emergency room students worked on stitching her up, running an IV and getting her stable.  

“Wait in the waiting room Miss.” The security guard’s voice was kind but firm. “They will come to talk to you when she is stable.”

“Just tell them Genevieve Duchamp is waiting.” She sat bouncing her knee. “I talked to the 911 operator.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them, Miss Duchamp.” The guard tilted his head looking at her. “Any relation to Teddy? Yesterday I was at Teddy's Amoco getting my car fixed. That man can tell some stories. Your grandfather was one of those boys that found that kid's dead body in 1959.”

“Yes, he’s my father, kind of.” She rolled her eyes. “I heard that story a million times at least.”

Teddy Jr. was just as fucked up as his Father. He was barely ever around when she was growing up. Her Mother Annette had enough by the time Genevieve was ten. For some reason they stayed in Castlerock. Her father still came around. Her Mother still had a weakness for him physically but would kick him right out, usually screaming obscenities, by morning.  

When she was an awkward teen her Father told her, she should just go on an adventure with a bunch of friends. Hopefully, they could find a dead body like his Dad. He thought it was the coolest thing to ever happen to the family name. He always wanted to find a dead body but never did. She thought is was an awful thing to what to see.  

The gas station his Father left him made him a good enough living. She never wanted for much. He paid for art lessons she wanted after she graduated high school. Her Father just used the college fund he was saving for her. He just gave her what was left after paying for her lessons so she could find an apartment with a good art studio. Which she did.  

The Guard went back to tell a nurse Genevieve was waiting. Within an hour Nadine was awake. A nurse came out to take Gen to see her.  

#castlerock #castlerock fan fiction #fanfiction #the kid #henry deaver #big red #the crimson king #steven king universe #bill skarsgard #fiction #original story #angst #creepiness #pain

[eldritchsurveys]

1090.

Can you say you are fully happy right now? >> Some surveys have such standard and generic questions that I can’t rightly tell if I’ve already taken it. This is one of those, and because it’s so long I’m hoping to god I don’t get to the middle of it and be like “oh. I did this literally last week” lmao. Fingers crossed. I don’t know what “fully happy” means. I took my walk like I promised myself, and I made an offering and am now drinking it (it’s delicious, a dessert stout called Big Luscious), so I’m on track for how I wanted my day to go. And I’m not triggered or having any kind of episode, so I’m okay there. Which means I am currently stable, which is a great place to be (considering the alternatives).

Do you think someone is thinking about you right now? >> It’s possible, I guess.

Is there someone who stopped talking to you for no reason? >> I mean, probably, at some point. Ghosting is a common thing these days, for some reason.

Did you ever get called horrible names like (whore, skank, bitch)? >> Sure.

Where did you sleep last night? >> In my bed.

Ever slow danced with anyone? >> Yes, outworld and Inworld. Inworld is obviously the best, though. ~

Ever cried in public? >> Yes. Privacy and solitude was a rarity and a luxury for most of my life, so I had no real choice.

Ever feel safe in someone’s arms? >> Inworld, yes. I don’t know what that’s like outworld.

What would you do if you were pregnant? >> Die.

Are you afraid of letting anyone in? >> So, I have disordered attachment, am a product of CEN and CSA, and have resultant CPTSD. You do the math. (*makes some kind of joke about how it’s probably gonna be algebra because of all the acronyms--*)

Do you like cuddling? >> I love it Inworld. It basically gets me through everything. I would basically remain glued to Can Calah at all times if I could (and on some bad days, I do). Outworld is a completely different story because of the things mentioned just above.

Ever cry in school? >> I’m sure I have.

Who is the last person to send you a message on facebook? >> Probably Casey, like a month and a half ago.

Do you look decent when you wake up? >> Why am I paying attention to how I look when I wake up? I’m in bed. Who the fuck am I performing for? -___-’

Have you ever been given roses? >> No.

Had a long distance relationship? >> Yes.

Does it bother you when people never answer their cell phones? >> Why would that bother me? I am also one of those people. Oh, I guess you mean, like... I call a person, they never answer... hah, as if I would ever call a person. This is totally outside my experience.

Do you care what happens in politics/your government? >> I mean... here’s the thing. I care in the sense that I’m not totally disconnected from the effects of politics on people like me. But the realm of politics, specifically, is so alien to me that I have no idea what to do about it except halfheartedly vote and hope for the best? I don’t know how much more I’m supposed to care. I hate the political system, period, I want nothing to do with it. People assume that anyone that feels that way must be privileged and unaffected by politics, but I guess their shortsightedness about how different people can experience and feel about things is not my problem.

Ever been called babe/baby? >> Sparrow says “babe”.

Have you ever witnessed someone else engaging in a sexual act (not necessarily sex)? >> Yes.

Where did you get drunk last? >> I don’t remember. I don’t get drunk anymore, I just like to drink a beverage and enjoy the taste and slight buzz. Like right now, it’ll probably take me the next hour or two to finish this stout, but that’s the way I like to drink. Slowly and comfortably.

What’s your relationship with the last person you texted? >> I’m married to her.

If someone went through your pictures, would they find a dirty one? >> Nope. The only time I ever took nudes was just for the fun of it, not to be sexual or anything. Just enjoying having a human body (god, I wish that were me now...). But that was a long time ago and none of those photos are available anywhere anymore.

Do you want to see anyone right now? >> No.

Have you ever fell asleep in someone’s arms? >> Inworld, yes. Outworld, no.

How long does it take for you to fall asleep at night? >> About a half-hour after laying down, usually. Some nights a little longer, but then I just catch up on my reading.

How many pillows are on your bed >> Two.

When’s the last time you cried? >> Yesterday.

Is it cute when a guy buys you flowers? >> I mean, I’d require more context than that. If I’m friends with a guy and he’s like “I saw these flowers and thought of you!” that’d be adorable. I do love flowers, thanks for thinking of me! Also, I’ll probably use them as an offering, so double win. If some random guy sent me flowers, I’d be a bit disturbed and put-off.

Will things change in the next month? >> I mean, yes. That’s how it works.

How did you do on the last test you took? >> ---

Have you ever wanted to tell someone something but didn’t? >> I mean, yeah. Are you afraid to grow up? >> ---

Are you busy tomorrow? >> Probably not, unless something really unpredictable and abnormal happens. I might be plenty busy playing FFXIV, though, considering I can’t today because it’s patch day.

How long have you had the shirt you’re wearing? >> It’s an undershirt, idk how long I’ve had it.

Do you give out second chances way too easily? >> Er, I assume not? I’m not usually in this kind of situation.

Has anyone told you that you’re amazing? >> Yes.

How many black shirts do you own? >> Like 15. For reference, I own like 20 shirts total.

Do you think you will be in a relationship three months from now? >> I don’t see why I wouldn’t be. A lot of weird and sudden shit would have to happen to change that.

How come you’re not going out with the person you like? >> ---

When you feel cold does eating warm food help you feel warm? >> I don’t know. I do feel warmer after eating, just in general, probably because of the blood moving around to start digestion.

Do you want to diet? >> No. No I fucking do not. Don’t even suggest that to me.

Are you unsure about your feelings for someone? >> I’m not unsure about my feelings for anyone. I know how I feel about people. It’s other people whose feelings are a complete mystery to me.

Who did you last hang out with? >> Sparrow, because we live together.

Would you take $40,000 or a brand new car? >> I mean, obviously the money, since I can’t drive and don’t want to...

What song are you currently listening to? >> None.

Are you happy with your relationship? >> It’s fine.

Who was the last person to smoke something other than a cigarette or weed in front of you? >> Other than a cigarette or weed?? So, like... crack???? I really couldn’t say. It’d be years ago.

Does anything on your body hurt? >> Not right now.

If the last person you kissed were calling you right now, would you answer? >> I would, because if she’s calling me, then it must be a real ass emergency. Or probably like an EMT using her phone to find an emergency contact. So yeah, I’d answer. One of the very rare times I’d answer my phone.

In the run of a week, how many times do you straighten your hair? >> ---

Are you mad at someone right now? >> Nope.

Last thing someone gave you? >> I don’t remember.

Who woke you up this morning? >> Just me, naturally.

Who is your favorite family member on your mom’s side? >> ---

What do you do in your spare time? >> All my time is "spare” time, by other people’s standards, so, uh...

Who was the last person you were under a blanket with? >> Just Can Calah. :B

Where is the last person you kissed? >> Inworld.

What was the last thing you ate? >> Veggie burger and chips, breakfast. I’ll probably grab some lunch and queue up a movie after this.

Which of your friends is the most likely to get pregnant right now? >> ---

Do you remember the meanest thing the last person you kissed ever said to you? >> I don’t think she’s said anything particularly vicious to me. Just... kind of thoughtless things, I guess, earlier on.

What does your last outgoing text say? >> It was a link to a TikTok of a cute dog.

Have you ever been called prince/ princess? >> No.

Waiting for something? >> No. Well, the Dinnerly box, which is gonna get here eventually and which I’ll have to go downstairs to retrieve and then unpack.

Have you kissed anyone when you’re single? >> Yes.

What are you doing this weekend? >> I imagine the same things we do every other weekend in these COVID times.

Could you go the rest of your life without smoking a cigarette? >> I imagine so.

Have you ever kissed someone who was in a relationship? >> Yeah. Where is your biological father right now? >> ---

Where is the biggest scar on your body? >> Probably the one on my face. How late did you stay up last night? >> Not very. I think I went to sleep shortly after 11. Have you had your birthday this year yet? >> Yeah, in May. You had to kiss the last person you texted, would you? >> I mean, I have. What would you call your body type? >> I don’t want to call it anything. Are you a morning person? >> Yes. Have you ever been to Target? >> Yes, many times. Do you like iced coffee? >> It’s okay. When is the next time you’ll be at work? >> --- Has anyone ever hacked your accounts before? >> Not that I can recall. Could you ever be friends with someone that broke your heart? >> Probably not. I take that kind of shit super fucking hard. Ever made a prank phone call? >> No. Does your mom vacuum early in the morning, when you’re sleeping? >> --- Have you ever been in a car accident? >> No.

Have you ever been in a fist fight with someone? >> Yes.

Have you ever seriously hurt anyone by mistake? >> Physically? I assume not. Have you ever had stitches? >> Yes. Name a time when you had to be strong. >> Like... all the time? I don’t really know how to answer this. Have you ever dealt with a divorce or parents fighting or any kind of abuse at home? >> The first two, no, because my parents were not together. The third, yes. Have you ever lost someone close to death? if so, how many? >> Once. Have you ever had any volunteer jobs? >> No. Have you gone through a lot emotionally growing up? >> Obviously. Has a boy/girl ever cheated on their boyfriend/girlfriend for you? >> I really would not want anyone to do that. Anyone that can disrespect the rules of their current relationship so flagrantly is going to disrespect me next. Also, that’s a messed up thing to do to the third party, too. Do you want to see someone this very minute? >> Not especially. Unless it’s D. :)

Are you happy with the way things are going? >> Some things, sure. Are you a forgiving person? >> Sometimes, I guess. It’s not what I’d call a character trait of mine, though. Do you have to check in with your parents before you go someplace? >> --- Do you have a friend of the opposite sex you can talk to? >> --- Describe how you feel about your life in the past month using one word: >> I cannot do that. Would you like to go back and change any part of your life? >> I mean, I don’t know. I am who I am, and that’s because of what I’ve experienced. I don’t know who I’d be otherwise, and I do like myself and I want to continue being myself, so... I have to take the bitter with the... less bitter. When will your next kiss be? >> I don’t know, whenever I want it to be. Last person you saw other than your family? >> --- Will tomorrow be better than today? >> I mean, today was pretty okay, so if tomorrow’s even better than today, boy howdy. Are you feeling guilty about anything right now? >> No. What’s going through your mind right now? >> I’m just taking this survey, dude. That’s all I’m thinking about. When’s the last time you had fast food? >> Day before Thanksgiving. Do you believe that there’s good in everybody? >> I mean, I guess, if we have to put it that way. I just think that people are largely alike, and that if I can see the “shadow self” in me and everyone that is capable of many of the evils of the world, then I don’t see why I can’t also see the “higher self” in me and everyone that is capable of the beautiful things that people do for and with each other. These divisions always make me twitch a little because I think making it a dichotomy misses the real point a bit, but I haven’t run into better words for this yet so I’m doing my best with what I’ve got. Is it okay if you kiss people when you’re single? >> ... When was the last time you saw someone attractive? >> I mean, I can see Can Calah or King Crimson whenever I want. :B What was the first thing you did when you woke up? >> Probably reached for my phone to see what time it was. Think back eight months ago, were you single? >> No. What do you carry with you at all times? >> Myself :) Are you okay with the life you live? >> I’m okay with a lot of it. Way more okay with the lives I’ve had to lead before.

Do you have a Tattoo? >> Yes. What other piercings would you get other than the ones you already have? >> I’m not sure. I haven’t really thought about it because I’ve been so focused on tattoos in recent times. I’d just rather have ink. Did your last kiss take place on a bed? >> Probably. Have you ever been to Disney World? >> No. If so, how many times have you been? >> --- Does grammar and capitalization mean anything to you? >> Meh. Like, here’s the thing -- even if I don’t capitalise proper nouns or use dialect grammar as opposed to “proper” (don’t get me started on the connotations of that term) grammar, I can still be understood. And that’s the whole fucking point. I use the social standard for grammar and capitalisation when it’s necessary, and for some reason I’ve been taking surveys with the social standard of English for so long that it’s a habit by now, but I’m not obsessed with it. I love being able to code-switch and I love using vernacular and I love “Internet dialect/grammar” and all of that. Language in all its forms, unrestrained, is just so. fucking. cool. Are you good at wrapping gifts for others? >> Sure, I like the orderly origami-like process of wrapping. Do you have a dirty clothes hamper in your room? >> No, it’s in Sparrow’s (bigger) room. Do you enjoy big holiday dinners? >> I enjoy big dinners and small dinners. I assume by “big” you mean “lots of food”, not... “big” as in “lots of people”, because that I do not enjoy. Is your vision good? >> Yes. Is your present hair color, natural? >> Yes. What was the last thing you ordered online? >> A crystal. Fuck, that reminds me, I gotta poke around on Etsy for some stocking stuffer type gifts.   Have you ever worn color contacts? >> Yes, quite often back in the day. If you have a significant other, how long have you been together? >> Almost nine years or something, idk. I’m bad at time math. Where are your parents as of now? >> --- Do you follow a certain religion? >> No. Do you have any family members who live out of town? >> --- Do you consider yourself short? >> Not really. What room are you in? >> Mine. Do you listen to any country music? >> Sure. Do you ever watch Lifetime? >> No. I don’t have cable, but I wouldn’t watch Lifetime even if I did. Would ever consider having children in the future? >> Probably not. Have you ever lived on a farm? >> No. Do both of your parents have jobs? >> --- If you had the chance to move to a completely different state, would you? >> Yes. What is something you’ve always wanted a boy to do for you? >> Clean my house. IDK, lol. What do you wish you had more knowledge about? >> Oh, stuff. What food are you craving right now? >> I’m not craving anything, even though it’s lunchtime. I have no idea what I want to eat. ...Hmm, egg, rice, and roasted veggies sounds really good but idk if I want to make eggs right now... How old were you when you stopped believing in Santa? >> I never was told about him. I kind of vaguely knew he existed from just... cultural saturation, or whatever, but yeah. How many times have you kissed the last person you kissed? >> A lot. Do you have a friend you can tell stuff to and you’re sure they won’t tell? >> --- Would you ever get someone’s name tattooed on you? >> You know, every time I see this question I totally fucking forget that I already have a person’s name tattooed on me. My X-Files tattoo that matches with Sparrow’s says “scully, it’s me”. Scully is a name lmaoooo So, yeah, I guess the answer is yes.

Does your family have family picnics? >> --- If your doctor said you were pregnant, what would you say? >> “That’s not a funny joke, so please stop”, I mean, what else would I say? That’s literally impossible so the doctor must be trying to pull a funny. A really fucking bad one, too.

#surveys #survey #random survey #not for reblogging *glare*

[pascalpvnk]

idk if your taking blurb requests but if so pls could u do 5&8

2.1k of something I kinda threw together super quick, I’m sorry if anything seems rushed (masterlist linked in bio)

Warnings: angst, swearing, arguing, car accident, commitment issues(?), loopy reader, teeny tiny bit of fluff

5: “Wake up! Please wake up.”

8: “is that blood?” “....no?”

“Why are you making it into such a big deal, Shawn? I’m sorry that I can’t go, but I have no choice.” You try to keep your voice as calm as you can manage. There’s no use in raising it when your tone is clearly annoyed and you’re sitting in the same vehicle. At least that’s your logic, not so much Shawn’s.

“It’s a big fucking deal because it’s my best friend’s wedding!” He yells. Again, you’re both in the same vehicle, making it incredibly unnecessary.

The wedding of the century, that Shawn forgot to mention when it was announced. Yes, you saw the engagement photos all over social media but there was never a date. Brian has hand delivered the letter to Shawn while they were away on tour, so you had no knowledge of its existence. So when you’re told about it less than a month before the date, yeah you’re kinda fucking pissed. 

“I can’t go, I’m sorry. We talked about this already, why are you bringing it up again?”

“I went to your best friend’s wedding and I had to reschedule a bunch of shit to accommodate it into my schedule,” he defends.

“I gave you almost a year in advance to do that and that’s why it worked out. But Brian’s wedding? The one that I just learned about a few days ago, Shawn? I can’t request time off of work! I have absolutely zero vacation hours left, and I can’t just drop my job to go on vacation for a week for a wedding. That’s not how the real world works.”

You’ll admit, your sound raised a notch, but nothing compared to Shawn’s still. He tends to get louder when he knows he’s losing an argument. 

“Why can’t you just quit? You don’t have to work, uh hello,” he motions to himself, “problem solved. Put in your two weeks notice and we can go then.” Shawn leaves one of his hands off his steering wheel so he can bite his nails on the other. He knows he’s entered dangerous territory and that nervous habit is a dead giveaway. You two fight about this often and it’s always left unresolved, but you still have your job and it drives him nuts.

“I’m not going to quit my job and leech off of you for the rest of our relationship. That’s not how I wanna do things.”

“You’re not going to be ‘leeching off me’ or whatever nonsense you’re making up,” both of his hands raising to do air quotes around those words in particular. “We’ve talked about you moving in so you can drop the lease on your apartment and hey, newsflash: I want you to move in with me.”

You catch his eyes lurking on you before you turn away. Your heart skips a beat not just because his stare is intense but he’s driving and not paying attention to the road.

“Keep your eyes on the road before you fucking kill us.” 

Fighting with Shawn is reasonably your least favorite thing to do. That with his risky driving, on a busy stretch of road may you add, has anxiety rolling off you in waves, causing you to cover your eyes with your hands. You aren’t crying, but you just don’t want to look at him while he’s fuming or see things out the window whipping by the car. 

“I’m driving fine, I know how to drive. Don’t tell me what to do,” he snaps. If you hadn’t noticed it before, you definitely notice it now. He’s being a complete asshole for no good reason. 

“Don’t tell me that I need to quit my job. It keeps me busy when you’re on tour for months at a time. You’re working and so am I and there’s nothing wrong with that,” you state and take your hands away from your face. There’s still no desire to look out the window so you close your eyes and turn your head towards it. Now you can play with your fingers and still hide your eyes. 

“You wouldn’t need to keep busy if you just went on tour with me. There’s a thought.” His aggression is very prominent, but not just in his voice. It’s making the air thick and hot, which in other cases could be the best describing words for something, but this isn’t one of those cases. This case is completely the opposite. 

“No, Shawn, I can’t go on tour with you! I can’t move in with you! It’s too fucking early to do those things. Yes, I completely adore you and I can’t see myself without you but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared! Shit could happen and I’m not comfortable with those commitments yet, and you should respect that!” You open your eyes and stare out in front of you. Not yelling? A lost cause. It’s now the only way you feel like he’s going to listen to you and understand your decisions. 

“What?” He breathes out, looking at you. You let your eyes catch his for just a second. There’s guilt and sorrow in them, very much in contrast to the flames that were present a few moments prior, and you let yourself get lost in them for a split second

The sound of honking breaks you out of your trance. A flash of red is in front of you before you realize you’re in the middle of the intersection. A sound rips out of your throat, you’re fully meaning to yell Shawn’s name, but aren’t sure if it came out that way. A car is hurtling toward your side of the vehicle and everything feels like it’s in slow motion. Shattered glass flies around Shawn’s car as the seat belt locks against you and your head bangs against your window, causing everything to go completely dark. 

—

Shawn wakes up in the ambulance, completely immobile and utterly in pain. His pulse pounding in his ears and every light feels like they’re blinding him. He registers that he has an oxygen mask on and that he’s strapped down from head to toe. There’s an EMT above him squeezing the bag that’s attached to his mask on certain counts.

“He’s conscious,” they mutter. There’s some shuffling around before there’s a light shining directly into his eyes. “Can you hear me?”

He lets out a groan in response. When he comes to a bit more, he remembers you. You were in the car that he crashed and you’re not here with him right now. Shawn’s eyes open wide and the pounding noise becomes louder. God, what if she’s gone.

“She’s okay,” says the person who had previously been shining a light in his eye. “The girl in your car, whoever she is to you, is in the other ambulance and she’s stable. Just keep breathing steady. We’re almost there.”

Many hours go by and Shawn hears not much else and you and it’s driving him up the wall. He’s finished filling out his paperwork and is discharged with a previously dislocated, now adorned in a sling, shoulder, plenty of bruises, cuts to the face and a prescription to pick up. He’s lucky that he came out with so few injuries but he’s insanely worried about you.

A doctor in scrubs walks into the waiting room where Shawn is nervously sitting, silently begging to hear anything. The man in all blue announces your name and before he could finish it, Shawn is on his feet.

“I’m Shawn. That’s my girlfriend,” he stutters. “Is she okay? Where is she?” His words are frantic and jumbled. 

“She made it through surgery. Multiple bone fractures in her arm caused by impact from the airbag. Minor concussion and some bruising, but otherwise she’s on the road to recovery. You’ll be able to see her after she wakes up when she gets transported to her room to stay in overnight. You’re welcome to wait there until then, and her parents will probably be arriving around midnight.”

Shawn blinks his eyes, trying to retain every bit of information that he has just received. But one thing pops out, that is that you’re okay. He still feels incredibly guilty but he couldn’t be happier that you’re alive.

So he waits in what’s soon to be your room. The fact that you haven’t woken up yet is making him fearful. ‘Wake up! Please wake up,’ he thinks, hopes, prays and practically begs into the empty room. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he left here without you. Hell, he doesn’t really remember the person he was before he met you. You changed everything in his life for the better. For the best, really. He sleeps easier when you’re around. His friends have told him that he’s happier or even glowing when you’re around. Every part of him wants to be with you, and you’re his first priority and he wants to show you that. He definitely failed to do so today. 

His mind wanders to the fight, regretting every second of it. You two could’ve died and the last memory you would’ve had of each other would’ve been you guys fighting. Yes, he’s still upset that you can’t go to Brian’s wedding, but he knows that he waited too long to announce it to you even if he never said it out loud. But the one thing he never was aware of was that you’re afraid of committing, but understandably so. Shawn is constantly gone, and it is a bit early in your relationship. He hates himself for getting so mad at something you can’t control and being an asshole about everything else. If something really bad had happened and his last memory of you two was him starting an argument with you, he would never be able to live with himself. 

His thoughts are cut short when a doctor comes in, the same one from beforehand. Shawn scrubs his hand over his face to find dampness on his cheeks. It never occurred to him that he was crying.

“So Shawn, she’s awake. Still a little out of it, but she should recognize you. We’re going to keep her here overnight to make sure everything is running smoothly before she goes home,” he smiles. Shawn lets out a sigh of relief and mutters a weak thank you. He can’t wait to see you in person again and he’s so thankful that you’re okay.

You’re wheeled into the room, eyes half closed but a dopey smile taking over your lips. One of your arms is in what looks like a cast and your face is all scratched up. Shawn’s heart stammers against his chest at the sight of you. Waves of relief crash into him, but he also feels incredibly guilty about what he’s caused. He hurt you in a way that he never deemed possible.

“See, I told you,” you slur at the nurse, “he’s hot.”

Shawn chuckles and tears fill in his eyes. He isn’t too sure why he’s getting emotional again other than he feels so lucky to see you again.

“Yeah, uh huh. You need to get some sleep, honey,” the nurse tells you. “Let me know if either of you need anything.” She leaves the two of you alone and Shawn is still in shock. He did that to you. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he mumbles, tears still threatening to fall once again. Wanting to be able to hold your hand, he moves a chair to your good side and plops down next to the bed.

You kind of just look at him blankly. He doesn’t know if you’re recalling the fight or if you’re just not fully aware of where you are yet. Either way, you still accept his hand when he laces his fingers with yours.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice getting caught in his throat. “So, so sorry.”

“S’okay, Shawn. I’m okay, you’re okay. We’re okay.” You’ve seemed to come to a little bit more and he senses a double meaning within your words. Not just that you two are physically okay, but that your relationship is okay as well. 

A tear or two slip past his eyelid as he nods his head. He brings your hand up to his lips and leaves a few pecks. Some of his fresh tears hit your hand and you look at him utterly confused. 

“Is that blood?”

His brows furrow and he then realizes. You can see the cut on his lip but you can’t see what’s on your hand. A grin spreads across his face because your common sense has been thrown out of the window.

“...no? I’m definitely not crying either,” he jokes. “Just licking your hand.”

“Eww!!” You howl as loud as you can—which isn’t loud at all—with your eyes the widest they’ve been since you’ve come into the room. That’s when he knows that you’re really okay, that you’re both truly okay. 

—

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[drtanner]

Listen, I am a communist but i could not disagree more with your point about the arts and storytelling. Our current capitalist society wastes absolutely ridiculous amounts of money on media and entertainment, when every trashy song and magazine published is money that could be spent on the greater good like educaton and healthcare. In a post-capitalist society, story-telling will be valued even less, as people will realise the noblest act is helping others and reducing suffering, not daydreaming

like what does a story do except  evoke an emotion? I am a poet, I absolutely love poetry and i often write as a way of dealing with ptsd and depression. But at the same time i realize poetry is fundamentally worthless. A starving person cannot eat it, it will not heal the sick. As such im in nursing school and a licensed emt rather than getting an english degree. I dont enjoy medical care as much as writing, but i know fundamentally it is a more worthy act.            

“Media and entertainment” aren’t the same as genuine storytelling. The kind of shit that I assume you’re referring to, like the neverending stream of absolutely fucking soulless MCU movies and everything connected to them, is not what I’d call “storytelling” at this point. Rather, they exist to get bums on seats in the cinema and as any fan of the original comics will tell you, these movies and everything else in the MCU have little interest in telling any real, compelling stories or even being consistent with their own fucking characters.

This is exactly what I’m fucking talking about; stories now don’t exist to speak to anything in humanity or lift anybody up or share any kind of experience, so it really doesn’t matter if a story does any of that, unless it can also rake in heaps of cash. If it happens to move its audience at the same time, that’s nothing more than a happy accident, and that’s what I have a problem with. That’s the shit that needs to stop. On that, we agree.

However, humankind has had storytelling at its heart since its very beginnings, and the idea that it’s somehow a shallow waste of time, that it is “daydreaming” and nothing more, is incredibly ignorant and faux-intellectual. Grow up, dude.

There’s more to being alive than eating and dodging ill health and death. Is it truly so worthless to evoke emotion? Are we not emotional creatures? You cannot simply strip the emotion, the humanity, out of human life and expect the society you create out of that to function happily and harmoniously. Whether you believe in the existence of a soul or not, you need things to feed the non-physical part of you just as much as you need to eat and heal the sick. Neither one is a replacement for the other; you need both. Would you suggest that, in your ideal communist society, the entire concept of fun should be sidelined in favour of your pragmatic dedication to the physical and absolutely nothing else? If you believe that there is a place in society for enjoyment, then there is a place in it for storytelling.

This bizarre and misguided idea that we can exist as human people with only our physical needs being met and nothing else because “you can’t eat poetry” is the cancer at the heart of capitalist society, and the fact that you’d imagine it being carried over to a communist one seems supremely short-sighted. For decades, we’ve been telling people to go into STEM fields when choosing their studies because the humanities are worthless, and look where we are for it.

Stories are humanity’s means of understanding itself and the rest of the world. They enrich us and teach us and bring us together, and storytellers have been valued and cherished by society in years past for a reason. We’re the keepers of history and the works we create forge bridges over gulfs of difference.

I’m sorry that you felt so pressured by your need to feel righteous that you’ve abandoned the work that you loved, but it’s not something that I can justify for myself. You can keep your perfect communist society where people are treated just as much like robots as they were under capitalism. You might think that you’d be able to stomach it, but it’s not for me.

#Tanner talks #Anonymous