#car accident aftermath
Text
Lazy Petals
AO3
Okay. This work is NOT completed. I cannot guarantee an update schedule because only the first chapter is completed. However, I DO have everything plotted out (assuming it doesn’t get a mind of its own) and the goal is to be 50k+ words.
This story is very personal to me. I’ve taken my grandparents love/live story and made it Steddie. The characters are going to be OOC. Just letting you know right off the bat in case that is something you aren’t interested in. Also, this is a No Upsidedown AU.
My grandparents were immediately obsessed with each other, but didn’t date until after they had graduated high school. Which means that while this isn’t a slow burn, it is going to be slower than the stuff I usually write.
I don’t want to give too, too much stuff away. There there is a post where I described the main highlights and asked your opinion on reading it. There is also a poll where I asked if I should start posting before it was finished, and I got a pretty definite yes.
I saved the divider that I plan on using for this series back when I first started talking about it. I have since lost my note that told me whom to give credit to. If you know who made it (or know how to find that information on mobile!!) please let me know.
I think that’s enough of a preamble. Without further ado, here be the CW’s and the first 3,489 words.
Content Warnings: Steve was hit by a car and in a full body cast for over a year - he makes a bowling joke about it, his parents are very distant, his grandparents got very distant after his injury and he doesn’t understand why, Wayne is very careful while babysitting to make sure that no one can accuse him of being inappropriate, mentions of his mom overmedicating him so he’s easier to deal with, mentions of how weak he got from being in the cast. And as always, let me know if I missed anything.
Steve didn’t remember much about that night.
His mother said that it was a blessing and refused to fill in any blanks for him under any circumstances.
His father, however, if he had drunk enough whiskey, would look at the six year old Steve as though he were a much older man and sigh before telling him anything he wanted to know.
Which meant that Steve knew that the car that hit him swerved in order to do so. (He didn’t know if the lady in the little blue car did it on purpose, or if she was a distracted driver. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know that.) He knew that she had to have been going over forty miles per hour because the impact sent him flying at least a dozen feet before he slammed into that bus stop. He knew that the driver kept going and that at least half a dozen people ran to his aid and that one of the women had screamed because he was unconscious and she was so certain that he was dead. His little body was so broken and bloody and they couldn’t see him breathe.
He also knew that his father got to his hospital room before his mother, sweat pouring down the older male’s body as though he had showered in his clothes because he had run there from work. His mother showed up over twenty minutes later, all put together like she had taken the time to clean herself up before appearing. Something his father wasn’t sure if he could forgive her for. (This was one of the few times that his father would express just how much that he loved Steve, and he would carry that warmth with him forever.)
He knew that they had to revive him four times, that they had done twelve surgeries, that they had put him in a full body cast because nearly every bone in his body had been broken, including parts of his spine. He knew that his parents had been told that he would likely never walk again. He knew that a specialist had pulled his father aside to inform him that his brain wouldn’t develop normally after all of the trauma that it had been through after being smacked around in his skull. They’d have to be careful, and that they’d have to understand if he never progressed much past the age that he was now. That he could be in his fifties and still acting five and that there was nothing that could be done beyond what they had already done – remove a small part of bone behind his ear to help relieve the pressure and pray for the best while preparing for the worst.
And, while he couldn’t remember the absolute agony that he must have been in. He did have the descriptions that he used to tell his father. That there was lava in his veins and his bones were shards of ice cold glass threatening to tear him apart completely. His father had only told him that part once, with tears in his eyes. “There wasn’t anything I could do to help you, boy. I couldn’t take the pain away. I would have died to save you even a fraction of that.”
That was one of the few times that he could remember his dad hugging him. He had been so careful and gentle while pressing his face into his hair. He inhaled deeply and he cried. And Steve had done his best to hug him back despite the plaster that made it near-impossible to move his arms at all.
At first, Steve had thought that it was really cool to be stuck in bed all the time. He didn’t have to do anything. That got boring within a week and he still had at least a year ahead of him where he was meant to stay in bed unless he was in the bathroom or at a doctor’s appointment.
Even eating in bed, something that had once been unacceptable and even punishable before, lost its novelty pretty quickly.
He liked having his mom read him notes from the teacher and his classmates. He liked her reading him his homework assignments and writing down his answers for him so that he would still be on track. It made him feel like an important man, like his dad was going to be, with a secretary.
The thing is, though, that he really missed going outside. He missed playing in the woods outside of the trailer park where he lived. He missed going to his grandparents house with the pool and the stairs that he’d probably never be able to walk again. He could climb them, though, after the cast was removed. He was pretty sure. He might not have a lot of muscle left at that point, but that would just mean that he was lighter and had less to have to move anyway.
When Steve brought that up to his mother, her lips would turn into a very tight, thin line and something he couldn’t name would flash in her eyes. “You are not going to go to that house any time soon, young man. It’s best to let those ideas go.”
“But I miss Grandma Marty and Grandpa Pete, and they won’t come here,” he whined.
“The Harrington’s won’t come to the trailer park and you know that.”
“We’re Harrington’s too,” he’d say defiantly.
She’d leave the room at that. Effectively ending an argument that they had had multiple times before. But what else did Steve have to talk about? He didn’t really have anyone else to talk to either, other than their neighbor that he had taken to calling Mister Wayne.
Wayne was probably a few years older than his dad and lived alone in a trailer that had always seemed so lively despite the quiet man who lived in it. He always had the tv or the radio on when he was home and Steve lived for that. Because his window was always cracked open for the breeze, which meant the sound could drift to him as well.
It was better than the quiet of his house that only seemed to get broken up with arguments and slamming doors. He was so used to it, but he still flinched every time and did his best to pull the blanket over his head as though that would muffle the sounds.
Sometimes, Wayne would come to his window and read him a book that his own nephew liked. The Hobbit. Steve fell in love with the adventure of it, and Wayne never seemed to mind reading him the same book over and over, a few pages at a time while he smoked.
More often than not, Wayne was the one who came over to babysit once he noticed that Steve had been left alone. He never once complained about it, never once gave someone else the chance despite all the ladies who would come over with food. And wine for his mom, when they could spare it.
Sometimes, Wayne would talk about his nephew. He was a scrawny kid, a few years older than Steve, named Eddie. Had a dark mop of long curly hair, and eyes that always seemed to have mischief in them. They’d like each other, Wayne was pretty sure, and he’d introduce them the next time that Eddie came to visit.
Steve would want to ask when that would be, but he never did. He had Mister Wayne and that was more than enough for him. His dad was staying later at the office, trying to prove that he deserved that promotion that would get them the hell out of the trailer park, without his parents' money. His mother was getting into yoga and book clubs, and Steve was being left alone a lot. Because, what kind of trouble could he get into when he was stuck in bed? Besides, the neighbors could hear if he shouted for anything and Wayne seemed very invested in making sure that he was okay.
Steve never knew why the older man made sure that his curtains were always wide open and that his light was on so that others could see that he was reading to him, or talking with him, from a chair that was always at least three feet away. Maybe it was so they would know he wasn’t alone? He wasn’t going to ask about it, not wanting to chance scaring away the one adult who never raised his voice at him, who never abandoned him when things got hard like his grandparents seemed to.
Months went by like this. His parents not being home, his grandparents not even calling about him, and Wayne doing his best to fill in the difference despite his own job. The other neighbors would come on occasion, but Steve was very sullen with them where he would laugh with Wayne. That didn’t deter them from coming over as he would have liked, and begrudgingly he found himself becoming friendly with a few of them.
It was the beginning of summer when Steve was finally able to get the casts removed. His father took him to the appointment, and he tried to not be disappointed that his mother wasn’t there at first. By the time he was wheeled out to the front of the office, though, his mother was sitting where his father had been.
He did his best to not look at himself. He was pale and scrawny and kind of stinky from not being able to wash himself properly because of all the plaster that had basically covered him for over a year. Most of his bones had healed great, according to the doctor. He wouldn’t know because he still hadn’t looked.
His father came back from wherever he had been, paid the bill with tight lips, and then took Steve out to the car. His mother helped him into the seat before covering him with a blanket that he was grateful for. It wasn’t that he was cold, he just didn’t want the chance to look at himself yet. He wanted to do that when he was home, where if he broke down and cried, no one else would know. Or, he wouldn’t have to see them knowing in any case. And that was enough for him.
They stopped for ice cream on the way and Steve asked for a small strawberry cone. Strawberry wasn’t his favorite, but it was what Grandma Marty had all the time, and he missed her even though she didn’t acknowledge him anymore. Wouldn’t answer his calls, wouldn’t call him back. He didn’t even know if she got the letters that Wayne had helped him write.
When they got home, Wayne wasn’t home. Not for the first time, Steve found himself deeply upset by that. He’d never voice it. Adults had responsibilities outside of him. And he knew that he only got about an hour with Wayne a day, maybe two if he was incredibly lucky.
His father came to help him out of the car, because he had more muscle if Steve should happen to fall. He clung to his father’s arm with all the strength that could muster as he walked like a baby giraffe toward their trailer. Well, he called it walking. It was more like wiggling his lower spine and hips while throwing his legs forward. After maybe five steps like that, he found himself being lifted into his father’s impatient arms as he was carried the rest of the way in and sat on the couch.
“Thank you,” Steve said instead of complaining about not being able to use his legs. He had wanted to walk, to prove that he could.
His father simply grunted in response before going to the kitchen to grab a drink. The same way he always did when he was home for the night.
His mother was inside a few minutes behind them, having stopped to talk to a neighbor briefly. She looked at Steve on the couch and tilted her head at him with a calculating look in her eyes.
“Would you like a bath?”
“Yes, please.”
This time, Steve did get to walk on his own two feet to the destination. He was leaning heavily on the wall, almost gripping on to it with one hand as he practically threw himself forward. He was breathless by the time that he got to the bathroom and pain seemed to radiate out through his entire body, starting at his tail bone.
“You can have some meds after your bath,” his mother said gently. “And I’ll get you your refill before dinner, okay? So you don’t have to worry about running out.”
Steve didn’t think it was time to refill his medicine yet, but he didn’t question it. His mom was on top of it. He was a kid who lost track of time a lot.
He sat on the toilet and he watched his mom prepare the bath for him, knowing that she would only let him have the water a little above room temperature. His skin was sensitive and the steam wouldn’t be good for him with the medicine that he was taking. He couldn’t even have hot food without the steam making him nauseous.
Carefully, he was pulled back to his feet and stripped of his clothes before he was helped into the tub that seemed to be more bubble than water. He sat down carefully, wincing a bit as he did so, before letting himself lean back in the water that felt warmer than it probably was because of his weakened, cool skin.
He sighed in contentment as his mother washed his body for the first time in what seemed like years. He was nearing seven years old and thinking about years in the past, it would make his dad laugh if he shared that thought with him, an idea that made him smile.
His mom washed his hair, tilting his head back and using a hand to make sure that no soap got in his eyes that he had squeezed tight. He got to play in the bubbles for a few minutes, his dad standing at the door as his mom got him some comfy clothes and a towel.
It was his dad who dried him off and helped him get into his clothes.
“Thank you, Daddy,” he said softly. He knew he was expected to thank his dad for everything he did that was above and beyond, which meant he ended up thanking him for everything.
Steve was carried back to his bed, something that he would have whined about if he wasn’t so tired and in so much pain. He was tucked in and his mom came to give him some toast and juice to take his pills with. He knew he was only meant to have one, but he took both that his mother gave him anyway. He washed it away with grape juice and half of the slice of toast she had brought him.
“Thank you, Mommy,” he murmured.
“Get some rest, love,” she replied while kissing his forehead. “You had a big day today.”
Steve nodded in agreement, wishing that it could be that easy to just let the sleep overtake him. He closed his eyes as his mom left the room.
His father checked on him once a day, his mother gave him two pills instead of one, and made sure he at least had breakfast and dinner. One of the neighbors made sure he had lunch and new puzzles to work on, new toys to play with. Steve would wander around the trailer as best as he was able, and Wayne would read to him before he went to bed.
Days turned to weeks like that.
One day, Wayne wasn’t at work and both of Steve’s parents were gone. He wandered over to his bedroom window and opened it wide.
“Mister Wayne, if I can get to the front door, can you help me out?”
His walking was still unsteady and stairs were very difficult for him.
“Are your parents okay with you being outside?” Wayne asked sympathetically.
“Uh. Dad said I could as long as I either finished my puzzle or put it up first.”
Wayne gave him a knowing look. “Okay, you little hellion. But only because I know you’d hurt yourself trying to do it anyway.”
Steve beamed and closed his window most of the way before making his way to the front door. It was a struggle to unlock the door because of the latch chain, but he managed. Wayne was waiting there for him with an unlit cigarette hanging between his lips.
“Getting outside used to be easier,” he sighed before reaching out.
“Maybe it’s the weight of knowing that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be,” Wayne teased as he picked Steve up and set him back down on the ground.
“No idea what that means, but thank you for helping me pass the stairs.” Steve grinned widely, the dirt and grass squishing slightly beneath his toes. It felt so good.
“You’re welcome, brat.”
Steve giggled before doing his version of walking. He took maybe ten steps, very much aware of how closely he was being watched. His breath came a little harder from the effort, the times between walking so close together. Shakily, he sat down as carefully as he was able. Movement caught his attention and made his head snap up to look toward Wayne’s trailer.
“You gotta ghost!” He exclaimed.
Wayne laughed at that, shaking his head. “That’s the nephew I’ve been telling you about. He’s staying with me for awhile. Treat him like a skittish cat until he’s used to ya, and I’m sure y’all would be good friends.”
“Eddie,” Steve said happily. “Can he come out so I can meet him?”
“I’ll send him out after I smoke my cigarette,” he said as he put more distance between them before lighting up.
“Thank you!”
Steve laid down flat on the grass, spreading his arms and legs out as much as he could without the pain becoming unbearable. It wasn’t very far, but he didn’t care. He got to grip the green strands in his fingers. He got to feel the light and heat of the sun soaking into his skin and settling into his bones. He was beyond convinced that the bright yellow thing in the sky was much more healing than the meds that made him feel tingly from his head to his toes.
He must have fallen asleep like that, because next thing he knew he was being awoken by a toe nudging his shoulder. His eyes flashed open and he was met by the most dark, beautiful brown eyes he had ever seen.
“Uncle Wayne said you just got released from the mummy’s curse.”
“He said that?”
“Well. He said your name was Steve and you just got a full body cast removed a few weeks ago.”
“That sounds more like him.”
“So…What happened?”
“A lady tried to go bowling with me and her car. The only pin she knocked down was me.”
Eddie snorted. “Shoulda planted your feet more firmly, she woulda gotten a strike.”
Steve’s lips tugged into the widest smile that he had ever had on his face. “My parents don’t like it when I joke about it.”
“Parents are stupid.”
“Yeah. How long are you stayin’?”
“As long as I can.”
Steve hummed in thought. “You any good at reading out loud?”
“Depends. What book?”
“The Hobbit.”
Eddie’s entire face lit up, his huge smile showing off the chipped front tooth. “My favorite book in the entire world? Yeah, I’m pretty good at reading it out loud.”
“We should read to each other. I have troubles with some words, but I am trying.”
“I’d like having someone to read and play with.”
“Oh, uh. Playing is hard for me right now. I’m still trying to get my strength back.”
“It’s okay. We read The Hobbit, we gotta have a pretty good imagination. We can pretend to play.”
Steve blushed and looked away. He never had someone his own age willing to work around his limitations before.
“I heard about a game with dice where we can talk out stuff and the dice decide how well it goes,” Steve said suddenly.
“Dungeons and Dragons!” Eddie apparently decided that he was tired of standing because he flopped down next to him at that. He rolled around in the grass before eventually settling on his side, propping his head up on his hand. “I can find a way to make that work with just two people.”
“Oh.”
“Turn that frown upside down, friend. I like a challenge. We’ll make this work because it sounds like fun.”
Steve beamed.
Taglist (let me know if you want added or removed! I was just trying to get who I remembered to seem interested!):
@estrellami-1 @eriquin @epiclazershark @morganski-19 @ellaelsinore @y4r3luv @valinwonderland @thespaceantwhowrites @jackiemonroe5512 @spectrum-spectre @princessstevemunson @ghost--enthusiast @gothwifehotchner @kas-eddie-munson @auroraplume @salisbury-at-the-stake @currently-steddiebrainrot @finntheehumaneater @marshmellowpaint @littlewildflowerkitten @perseus-notjackson @sapphirecobalt-1 @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @gloomysoup @anne-bennett-cosplayer
#stranger things#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steve stranger things#eddie stranger things#steve x eddie#taking my grandparents love story and making it steddie#grandparents love story#lazy petals#no upside down au#read the cw#car accident aftermath#mention of medical abuse#let me know if i missed anything
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Agust D 'Amygdala' MV
#agust d#min yoongi#bts#suga#bts suga#bangtan#bangtan sonyeondan#suga gifs#bts gifs#my gifs#amygdala#here we go folks#time to watch yoongi pop pills and get hit by a car over and over again until i cry#cw drug use#drug use#the aftermath of it anyway#if there are specific cw tags y'all want me to use for these lmk#amygdala's difficult for me and i don't have any triggers#i'll be tagging 'drug use' 'car accident' and 'self harm' with and without 'cw' attached by default#but seriously lmk if there's anything else or any other way you need me to tag
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Hey, friends. Wanna hear something funny?
I got into a car accident today.
But I was very lucky.
A truck went out of control, slid sideways down the road towards me and hit the driver's side with its rear end, pushing my car against a wall for a moment, then spun around again and got stuck, fully blocking the road.
I'm completely fine.
Only a piece of shattered glass cut my finger. Except for that, your humble artist is unharmed.
This doesn't feel real
What a crazy day
#text post#please feel free to scroll past#I'm ruining the positivity of my page :(#I don't know why I'm sharing this#..or maybe I do#it's the aftermath of living through an experience perceived as near-death. oversharing paired with detachment. haha.#today I've gotten more support from everyone else than I've gotten from my parents in the last 10 years#and I'm still young. those 10 years aren't of adulthood.#trauma dump? sorry.#I didn't plan to turn this art account into a personal blog but here I am. writing THIS#this is unreal. insane.#however! there's a plus! this was my first ever car accident and it wasn't my fault at all! ha!
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Breaking Habits
Also on AO3
@whumptober-archive - day 1: safety net, day 22: "watch out", vehicular accident
@clonefandomevents - Haunted Clones week & 501st bingo - day 1: time loop
They say that it can take as little as 21 rotations to build a habit.
Rex doesn’t know just how many weeks he was trapped in the loop – he lost count somewhere after the 30th morning of waking up in the Coruscant barracks. Yet eventually he found the combination: he saved Fives, made the Jedi listen, defeated the Sith.
But then there is the aftermath. For all that he had been desperate to unravel the mystery, the routine had become familiar, comforting, safe. Details fading into the background as he focused on each variable.
Now… People aren’t where they’re supposed to be. Conversations take unfamiliar turns. Someone moved ‘his’ caf-mug from the shelf. Things change without his input, and it leaves him wrong-footed and unsure.
The first time he leaves the barracks After, only Jesse’s reflexes keep him from being run over by a speeder-truck. Rex didn’t check, because this intersection is always clear. Rex didn’t react fast enough, because dying just meant waking up.
He has to remind himself that consequences linger; people remember and injuries take time to heal. He has to relearn how to accept uncertainty.
#haunted clones week#501st bingo#whumptober 2023#no.1#no.22#safety net#vehicular accident#“watch out”#star wars#sw:tcw#ficlet#fanfic#time loop#time loop aftermath#car crash near miss#captain rex#bingo fill
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rage, rage against the dying light - Chapter 4 - jamietarttsnorthernattitude - Ted Lasso (TV) [Archive of Our Own]
Roy Kent might die. And Jamie Tartt had no one to blame but himself.
The final chapter is live, where the boys recover, and Roy does his best to convince Jamie it's not his fault.
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Can you uhm.. make a car accident hurt/comfort. Thank you so much for that❤️
Absolutely I can @espzd
Please enjoy! (Also idk how submissions work, but here we go!)
Warnings: referenced car accident, referenced hospital, broken bones, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee
Caretaker breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in a long time. Whumpee was resting peacefully in their bed, their face no longer contorted in pain. And so now Caretaker could relax.
The car accident had been bad. Caretaker was in shock when they got the call that Whumpee's car had been T-boned. Intentionally from the looks of it. Whumpee had looked so small in the hospital bed when Caretaker had finally been allowed to see them. They had been covered in bandages, their leg casted, and other injuries very apparent.
But they were alive. And would live.
Caretaker had been forever grateful that Whumpee was alive and would remain alive. Because when they had first gotten the call they feared the worst. And so they couldn't let themself leave Whumpee's side. Not until Whumpee woke up. Because Whumpee would wake up. They had to.
That had been weeks ago and Whumpee had woken. Woken in pain, but woken nonetheless. And Caretaker had stayed with them. Stayed with them the entire time they were in the hospital. Told Whumpee they would be there every step of the way through recovery.
"You ok?" Whumpee blinked up sleepily at Caretaker.
"I'm fine," Caretaker said snapping out of their thoughts. "What about you? Any pain? Can I get you anything."
"No," Whumpee sighed and snuggled deeper into Caretaker. "Have you. Happy," they said sleepily as they slipped back into their peaceful slumber.
"And I'm happy I still have you," Caretaker said as they kissed the top of Whumpee's forehead. "Very happy."
#submission#serickswrites#whump#whumpblr#whump writing#whump community#tw referenced car accident#tw referenced hospital#tw broken bones#hurt/comfort#hurt/aftermath#hurt/recovery#caretaker and whumpee#queue
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if anyone would like a starter from Patrick or david loosely based on the season premiere from tonight, like this post!
#i. ｢ 𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝙾𝙵 𝙲𝙷𝙰𝚁𝙰𝙲𝚃𝙴𝚁 ｣#the hospital is dealing with the car accident pile up so maybe your muse is was involved somehow!#or if you play a character#it can be during the aftermath!
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not to make this about buddie but if buck lays bleeding on the street again and eddie has to watch him bleed to near-death the way shannon did after her own car accident…you will never hear from me again
#zee rambles#of course I’m making it about buddie#the brainrot lives in my blood#anyway 😌😌😌#911 spoilers#buddie#eddie diaz#evan buckley#but can you imagine the angst#if Eddie has to relive Shannon’s death and Buck’s firetruck accident in this new car accident#like I am just out here praying for the angstiest of angsts#something something about eddie confronting this demon in the aftermath#or demons#because what Buck means to him and what Shannon meant to him are all things he can feasibly deal with hehe
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after
prompt: aftermath of failure (alt no.2)
whumpee: sonny carisi
fandom: law and order svu
here's a fandom i haven't written in a hot sec! was really grappling for what to write and suddenly the idea hit me like a. well. i'm not going to say. this is set during episode 19x19 sunk cost fallacy and presumes a basic familiarity with the events (you can find a gifset of it here). hope you enjoy!
Sonny is sitting on the back bumper of an open ambulance with a shock blanket draped over his shoulders and he can barely breathe. There is blood dripping down his face from a gash on his temple, but he’s not aware of it. His clothes and hands are stained red with blood that is not his. The front of the car is a mangled wreck and red and blue lights flash continuously into his eyes. Radios are chattering endlessly. Everything is light and noise and he doesn’t - he doesn’t know what to do.
And then Liv is there, and that’s at least something. She walks towards him, says his name, quiet, worried - “Carisi” - and he stutters out an explanation, gasping for breath between the words.
“I couldn’t - I couldn’t stop the blood, I tried, he just blew through the stop sign.”
Liv speaks over him, low, calm words that he barely even hears. “Okay, alright, take it easy, take it easy.” Then she asks, “Who did?”
Her hand is on his back, steady like the metal he’s sitting on. He looks away from Liv, panting, and Amanda interjects from next to him: “He’s in the wind.”
“Hey, did you see him?”
He had. He nods, slightly, forces himself to remember, images flashing through his head faster than he can catalogue them. “He had, um, a ba- a baseball cap, and I - I tr- I tried to, uh…I - I couldn’t, I co- I couldn’t, I couldn’t stop the bleeding.”
This is what it all comes back to. The blood. Too much of it. All over the car, her skin, the ground. His hands, desperate, trying, but too much blood. He couldn’t.
Liv nods, almost inaudibly whispers, “I know, I know.” Amanda touches his shoulder, then gets up, follows Liv over to the scene. And then he is alone. He still cannot breathe properly. He does not know what he is supposed to do.
A paramedic comes over to check on him, and he sits motionless while she looks him over. She says something about the hospital, and he shakes his head. He can’t - he’s not the one who should be in the hospital, Jules should be, she should be alive and getting cared for but he couldn’t - he hadn’t been able to stop the bleeding, too much blood, soaking into his clothes and his skin as it continually forced its way out of her body despite everything he had done to try and make it stop.
It’s his fault - if he had driven slower, or faster, if he hadn’t hit that intersection at that exact time, if he’d been paying more attention, if he’d been quicker to react, to jerk the steering wheel, if he’d been able, somehow, to stop the bleeding, if, if, if -
“Hey, hey, whoa, breathe.” This is Amanda, sitting next to him again, hand on his leg. “Deep breaths.”
He tries to do as she says. But he can’t stop thinking, spiraling, what ifs and should haves tumbling through his brain on loop. Jules is dead because of me, he thinks, and he feels like he is going to explode with the guilt, the grief.
“It’s my fault,” he says, between breaths that don’t give him much air at all. “It’s - I should’ve - I couldn’t -”
“You did all you could.”
It wasn’t enough.
“Come on,” Amanda says, quietly, after a few minutes of silence. “Let me take you home.”
The car ride passes in a blur. Every time a car comes at them from a different direction, he flinches, eventually opting to simply close his eyes the entire time.
He wishes he had never learned how to drive. Wishes it had been anyone else driving, because then maybe Jules would still be alive. Maybe someone else wouldn’t have been hit in the first place. Maybe someone else would’ve been able to stop the blood.
They’re in his bathroom and he sees himself in the mirror for the first time. His face and shirt and hands are covered in blood. He can scarcely believe that the image reflected in the glass is him.
He stares at his reflection for a long time. Vaguely, he hears the shower turn on, feels the room steam up. And then Amanda’s reflection joins his, and she looks so much like herself that it momentarily jolts him into reality.
“C’mere,” she says, and he momentarily turns away from the bloodied, guilty version of himself.
She unbuttons his shirt and tosses it into the hamper, though there is no chance the blood will ever come out. He glances down at his chest and discovers that some of the blood has soaked through the fabric and into his skin.
He strips off the rest of his clothes on autopilot, too out of it to be anything more than vaguely aware of the fact that he is not alone.
He steps under the water and it is so hot it feels like he is burning, but he does not adjust the temperature. He scrubs at his skin until the red tinge of Jules’ blood turns into an angry but clean pink.
He remains in the shower until the water starts to turn cold, until he starts to shiver. He gets out and discovers a towel and clothes that hadn’t been there before. His bloody, ruined clothes are nowhere to be seen. Amanda has similarly disappeared.
He dresses slowly, examines the gash in his forehead in the mirror. It’s stopped bleeding, which is good. The thought of having to go get stitches makes him feel sick.
He leaves the bathroom in search of Amanda, and finds her in his kitchen, in front of the microwave. She turns around when he enters the room, and looks at him with something like relief in her eyes.
“I’m heating up some leftovers I found in the fridge. Hope you don’t mind.”
He’s not at all hungry, but he doesn’t mind, anyway. He shakes his head. The microwave beeps, and Amanda retrieves a steaming tupperware.
It’s the pasta he’d brought home from a family dinner last weekend. The pasta he’s eaten his entire life. It tastes like childhood, like home. It’s probably the only thing in the world he can stomach right now.
She divides it onto two plates, and they eat in comfortable silence.
thanks for reading! i haven't really written these two before so i hope it was alright <3
#whumptober2023#altno.2#aftermath of failure#fic#law and order svu#car accident#emotional whump#cared for#my writing#i say things#sonny carisi
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,,,,eventful last few minutes
#someone had a seizure at tge school and had to be wheeled out#and right down the street of my house is the aftermath of a very brutal car accident. itd be a miracle if anyone got out okay#like......one car is completely flipped and shattered
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Whumptober 2022 - Alt. No. 13 - Crutches
Fili/Kili, G
Dead Batteries AU (Tumblr / Ao3)
--
Kili did not remember much of what happened in the hospital. The doctor checked him for bruising from the seatbelt. And he got x-rays.
He was sent home from the hospital with an aircast, crutches, and hospital pants.
“Do you want to go home?”
Kili shook his head. He had to be helped into the back seat of Dis’ mini van. The crutches were set between the two captain seats in the middle. His dad had come to the hospital, and when it was clear that Kili was going to be okay then he went back to work.
“Do either of you need lunch?” Dis asked once the van was one and A/C turned to max.
Kili shook his head.
“Can we just go home, Mom?” Fili asked. He buckled himself in.
“Of course.”
When she pulled out onto the street Kili reached for Fili’s hand, but Fili pulled his hand away and tucked them in his lap. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the window.
#whumptober2022#no. 28#alt. no. 13#crutches#the hobbit#fic#aftermath of a car accident#bb writes#fili/kili#fiki
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#dear anon: it's another good ask and i've been meaning to get to it but today's stressful because i'm dealing with the aftermath of-#my car accident (no injuries)#sorry ):
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The Writer's Guide to Authentic Wounds and Fatalities
Writing fatal injuries in a story requires a delicate balance between realism and narrative impact. The portrayal of these life-altering events can evoke strong emotions in readers and shape the trajectory of your characters' journeys. In this blog, I will explore the intricacies of depicting fatal injuries in a manner that feels authentic, engaging, and respectful to the gravity of such circumstances. By understanding the nuances of fatal injuries, you will be equipped to craft compelling narratives that resonate with your readers.
Writing Fatal Injuries
When it comes to writing fatal injuries, it is crucial to approach the subject with care and accuracy. Fatal injuries carry immense consequences for your characters and can shape the trajectory of your story. By delving into the intricacies of portraying fatal injuries authentically, you can ensure that the gravity and impact of such events are effectively conveyed to your readers.
Choosing the right injuries for your story
Selecting the appropriate fatal injuries for your narrative involves considering various factors. Ask yourself: What purpose does this injury serve within the story? How does it affect the characters and the overall plot? Conduct thorough research to identify injuries that align with your story's context and resonate with the emotional journey of your characters.
For example, in a historical drama, you may research common fatal injuries during a particular era, such as battlefield injuries, diseases, or accidents prevalent at the time. In a crime thriller, you might explore the portrayal of fatal gunshot wounds or traumatic injuries resulting from violent encounters. By aligning the injuries with the context and themes of your story, you create a more immersive and believable experience for your readers.
Researching the mechanics of fatal injuries
To portray fatal injuries convincingly, it is essential to delve into the mechanics behind them. Understand the specific anatomical structures and systems involved, as well as the forces or mechanisms that can lead to fatal outcomes. Explore medical resources, consult experts if possible, and gather insights into the physiological and psychological implications of such injuries.
For instance, if your character suffers a fatal stab wound, research the anatomy involved, the potential organs affected, and the potential consequences such as internal bleeding or organ failure. By understanding the specific details and implications of the injury, you can describe the physical and emotional toll it takes on the character with greater accuracy and depth.
Depicting the immediate aftermath
When writing about fatal injuries, vividly describe the immediate aftermath to capture the intense emotions and physical realities. Consider the sensory details, the shock and disbelief experienced by characters, and the chaotic environment that often surrounds such events. Balancing realism with the needs of your story, create a scene that immerses readers and evokes empathy.
For example, if a character experiences a fatal car accident, you can depict the chaos at the scene, the character's disorientation, and the reactions of witnesses. Emphasize the sensory details such as the sound of screeching tires or the smell of burning rubber, creating a visceral experience for your readers.
Emotional and dramatic impact on the narrative
The impact of fatal injuries extends beyond the immediate moment. Explore the ripple effects on other characters, relationships, and the overall plot. Delve into the emotional responses, grief, guilt, anger, or determination that arises in the aftermath of loss. Utilize these emotional arcs to deepen character development and drive the narrative forward.
For instance, the loss of a loved one due to a fatal illness might lead to grief and strained relationships among the remaining family members. The emotional journey of a character grappling with guilt and seeking redemption after causing a fatal accident can become a central theme in your story. By delving into these emotional arcs and their consequences, you add depth and resonance to your narrative.
Writing Minor Injuries
While fatal injuries may capture our attention with their dramatic impact, it is equally important to pay attention to the portrayal of minor injuries in your writing. Minor injuries, though less severe, can still significantly affect your characters and contribute to the authenticity of your story. In this section, we will explore the art of depicting minor injuries, ensuring that they are not overlooked or trivialized. By delving into the nuances of minor injuries, you can add depth and realism to your characters' experiences.
Types of minor injuries to consider
When crafting your story, it is essential to consider a range of minor injuries that can occur. These injuries can include cuts, bruises, sprains, minor burns, or even minor fractures. Each type of injury carries its own unique characteristics, associated pain levels, and recovery processes. By understanding these distinctions, you can create accurate and believable depictions that resonate with your readers.
For example, a character who sustains a cut on their hand may experience sharp pain, the sight of blood, and the need for immediate first aid. On the other hand, a character with a sprained ankle may struggle with mobility, experience swelling, and require rest and care for a few days. By paying attention to these specific details, you can enhance the realism of your storytelling.
Conveying pain and discomfort
When writing about minor injuries, it is important to effectively convey the pain and discomfort experienced by your characters. Consider describing the sensation of pain, the throbbing or stinging feeling, and how it affects their daily activities or interactions. Showcasing the emotional impact of pain, such as frustration, irritation, or vulnerability, can deepen the readers' connection to the character's experience.
For instance, if a character suffers from a sprained wrist, you can describe the dull ache that persists, making simple tasks like typing or holding objects challenging. By capturing these small but significant moments, you immerse readers in the character's struggle and create a more realistic portrayal.
Balancing realism with narrative pace
While it is important to depict minor injuries realistically, it is also crucial to strike a balance with the overall pace and momentum of your story. Consider the significance of the injury within the larger context of your narrative. Some injuries may require more detailed attention and impact the plot, while others may serve as background elements. Adjust the level of detail and focus accordingly, ensuring that the portrayal of minor injuries aligns with the narrative's flow.
For example, a small cut on a character's finger may not require an extensive description unless it becomes infected or triggers an unexpected consequence. By aligning the portrayal of minor injuries with their narrative relevance, you maintain a consistent pace while still acknowledging their impact on your characters' lives.
Writing Bloodshed And Realistic Blood Loss
When writing about wounds and injuries, it is essential to consider the amount of blood loss your characters may experience. Realistic portrayal of bloodshed can enhance the authenticity of your scenes and immerse readers in the gravity of the situation. In this section, we will explore the factors influencing blood loss and techniques for accurately depicting it in your writing.
Understanding blood loss and its impact on the body
To authentically portray blood loss, it's crucial to have a basic understanding of how the human body responds to injury. Research the circulatory system and the role of blood in transporting oxygen and nutrients throughout the body. Consider the different types of blood vessels and their potential for bleeding when injured. This knowledge will help you create realistic scenarios and determine the appropriate level of blood loss for specific injuries.
Factors influencing blood loss in different injury scenarios
The amount of blood loss can vary depending on the severity and location of the injury. Factors such as the size of blood vessels, the rate of bleeding, and the body's ability to clot play a significant role. For example, a deep laceration in an artery will result in more substantial blood loss compared to a superficial cut on the skin. Consider these factors when describing injuries and their resulting bloodshed.
Techniques for accurately portraying blood loss in writing
There are several techniques you can use to convey the realistic impact of blood loss in your writing. Describing the color, consistency, and flow of blood can provide vivid imagery. You can also include physical symptoms such as dizziness, weakness, or fainting that may accompany significant blood loss. Additionally, consider the emotional response of your characters and how they react to the sight of blood or their own injuries.
By incorporating these techniques, you can create scenes that evoke a visceral response in readers and enhance the authenticity of your writing.
Bruises: Colors, Progression, and Pain
Bruises are a common result of injuries, and understanding how they form, change in color, and cause discomfort can greatly enhance the realism of your writing. By accurately describing bruises, you can bring depth to your characters' injuries and portray their healing process convincingly.
Understanding the stages and colors of bruises
Bruises go through distinct stages of color as they heal. Initially, they may appear red or purple due to the broken blood vessels beneath the skin. Over time, the color changes to blue, green, yellow, and eventually fades to a brown or yellowish hue. Understanding this color progression can help you accurately describe the age of a bruise and the healing process.
For example, a fresh bruise might be vivid purple, indicating recent trauma, while a fading bruise may have a yellowish tinge, suggesting that healing has begun. By incorporating these color details, you can add realism to your characters' injuries and track the passage of time within your narrative.
Depicting the progression of bruises over time
As bruises heal, they often change in appearance and size. Initially, a bruise may be small and localized, but it can gradually spread and become more extensive. Describing this progression can provide a sense of the healing process and the passage of time within your story.
For instance, a character who sustains a significant blow to the face may develop a bruise that starts as a small spot near the eye but expands to cover a larger area over the next few days. By accurately portraying the progression of bruises, you enhance the authenticity of your characters' injuries and their recovery.
Conveying the pain and sensitivity associated with bruises
Bruises can be painful, sensitive to touch, and affect a character's movement and daily activities. Describing the pain and discomfort experienced by your characters can create empathy and immerse readers in their physical ordeals.
Consider conveying the tenderness of a bruise when pressure is applied, the throbbing sensation, or the limitation of movement due to the pain.
Remember The Side Effects
Injuries, whether minor or severe, often come with a range of side effects that can significantly impact your characters' lives. These side effects can extend beyond the physical realm and encompass emotional, psychological, and social aspects.
Physical side effects
Injuries can have profound physical side effects that go beyond the immediate pain and discomfort. Consider the potential consequences such as limited mobility, impaired coordination, chronic pain, or the need for assistive devices like crutches or braces. Describing these physical side effects can add depth to your characters' struggles and provide a realistic portrayal of their healing journey.
For example, a character who sustains a leg injury may experience difficulty walking, require physical therapy, or have long-term complications that affect their day-to-day activities. By addressing these physical side effects, you create a more nuanced depiction of the aftermath of injuries.
Emotional and psychological side effects
Injuries can have a profound emotional and psychological impact on characters. They may experience fear, anxiety, trauma, or a loss of confidence. Consider how the injury affects their self-image, relationships, or mental well-being. Explore the emotional journey your characters undergo as they navigate the aftermath of their injuries.
For instance, a character who survives a near-fatal accident may develop post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and struggle with recurring nightmares or panic attacks. By incorporating these emotional and psychological side effects, you can deepen the complexity of your characters and their responses to traumatic experiences.
Social implications and changes
Injuries can also lead to significant social changes for your characters. They may face challenges in their personal relationships, encounter stigma or discrimination, or experience changes in their roles or identities. Explore how the injury affects their interactions with others and their sense of belonging in the world.
For example, a character who sustains a facial injury may encounter judgment or stares from others, leading to self-consciousness or isolation. By addressing the social implications and changes resulting from injuries, you can create multi-dimensional characters and explore the impact of their injuries on their social dynamics.
By incorporating these various side effects into your writing, you bring depth and authenticity to your characters' experiences and showcase the wide-ranging impact of injuries.
Conclusion
Writing authentic wounds and fatalities requires attention to detail and a deep understanding of the physical, emotional, and psychological aspects involved. By following the guidelines and exploring the subheadings discussed in this guide, you can create compelling and realistic portrayals of injuries in your writing.
Remember to conduct thorough research on the specific injuries you want to depict, understanding their mechanics, symptoms, and potential outcomes. Consider the immediate and long-term effects on your characters, both physically and emotionally. Incorporate sensory details to immerse readers in the experience, describing the pain, bloodshed, colors of bruises, and the progression of healing.
Additionally, don't forget to address the side effects that injuries can have on your characters' lives. Explore the physical limitations, emotional struggles, and social implications that arise from their injuries. By delving into these aspects, you can create well-rounded characters and compelling narratives that resonate with readers.
I hope this blog on forging epic battles will help you in your writing journey. Be sure to comment any tips of your own to help your fellow authors prosper, and follow my blog for new blog updates every Monday and Thursday.
Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?
Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Haya’s book blog where I post writing and publishing tips for authors every Monday and Thursday! And don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!
#hayatheauthor#haya's book blog#haya blogs#writers on tumblr#writer community#writer tools#writer blog#writer stuff#writer wednesday#writer tips#creative writing#writers of tumblr#writerscommunity#writeblr#writing community#writer spotlight#writer things#writing prompt#writing tools#writing stuff#writing#writing life#writing inspo#writing help#writing advice#writing inspiration#writing ideas#writing things#writing tip
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Hi mae! I love eveything you write!! Kind of in a similar vein to doctor!remus i wanted to request poly!marauders where they are emt’s and they respond to a call where reader is injured and when they arrive to help reader is just super flustered and shy because there are three very sweet and attractive and charming men she doesn’t know taking care of her
Thanks lovely!
part 1 | part 2
Cw: car accident aftermath, concussion, blood, and definitely some smutty implications but nothing that would fluster your grandmother, also maybe don’t read if medical inaccuracies will piss you off because I can almost guarantee this is riddled with them (I am but a girl)
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words
Someone else must have called emergency services, because the first thing you hear is sirens. Your car is smoky—that can’t be safe, can it?—and you ache, and the shaking of your hands makes them frustratingly inefficient at undoing the buckle of your seatbelt.
The sirens get louder and then stop. The ruckus you can hear but not see outside of your smashed windshield increases, and there’s a warm wetness on your face, getting in your eyes. You reach up to swipe at it. The door next to you opens.
“Hi.” A curly mop of hair attached to a smiling face pops in your driver’s door. “How we doing?”
You inhale shakily. “All right.”
His grin goes lopsided, brown eyes skimming over your form. “Well, at least you’ve got a good attitude. We’re gonna get you out of here in just a second, but first can you tell me what’s hurting you?”
You blink. Things seem to be moving oddly slowly. Every inch of you trembles. “Is my car going to blow up?”
The paramedic’s eyebrows raise. You hear something on your opposite side but can’t be bothered to look. “We don’t think so. Are you asking because of the powder?”
He must mean the smoky stuff swirling about your car. You try to nod, but it hurts, and the man puts a gloved hand to your neck to stop you.
“No no, don’t move,” he cautions.
“That’s just powder from the airbags,” a voice on your other side says, and the paramedic makes a small sound of protest when you turn your head to find it. There’s another one leaning in the open door on your passenger side. He’s got fluffy brown hair lighter than the first’s and a large scar on one side of his face which stretches as his eyebrows bunch. “Can you tell us what hurts, please?”
“My head,” you answer, bringing a quivering hand to your breastbone. “A—and my chest.”
“No pain in your neck or back?” The first, darker paramedic asks, and when you confirm he nods approvingly. “Well, some of that might come later, but that’s good enough for now. All right, sweetheart, do you think you can stand?”
“Yeah,” you say, sounding uncertain even to your own ears. He grasps your forearm in one hand while wrapping another around your back, helping you out of your seat.
As soon as you’re through the door there’s another set of gloved hands on your opposite arm. You look up to see a third man, slighter than the others, helping the first carry you a short distance to a gurney.
And daylight is something else. Your head and chest hurt worse than before, but it doesn’t help that you very nearly stop breathing when you take in the sight of the three paramedics who have surrounded you.
“Can you tell us what you remember from the accident?” The second one, the one who’d come through your passenger door—you can see in the sunlight that he has more scars than just the one, though he’s no less beautiful for it—asks. There’s a gentleness to the set of his brows as he frowns at you, pressing something to your forehead.
A policeman makes to approach you, and the curly-headed one turns, taking on a sternness that doesn’t suit him as he wards the other man off with a hand and a few quiet words.
“Hey.” The scarred paramedic brings your attention back to him. “Do you know what happened?”
“I…” Fuck, you can’t tell if you’re woozy from whatever’s happening with your head or just the attention from the three of them. They’re moving you, other people and cars passing in your periphery as they wheel the gurney towards an ambulance. “I wrecked my car?”
The third paramedic laughs, the sound sharp and crisp despite the general fuzziness surrounding you. He’s got longish, inky black hair tied in a ponytail at the nape of his neck. “It’s not a trick question, dollface. And the state of your car isn’t really what we’re worried about right now.”
“Sirius,” the scarred one chides. You think distantly that Sirius is an odd name. Unique and pretty-sounding. “Do you remember if you fell asleep, love?”
You want to shrink away from his attentive stare, but his hand on your forehead holds you in place. “I’m not sure,” you say. “Was there—are the people in the other car okay?”
“Pretty sure she was just waking up when I got to her,” the first paramedic says, curls bouncing slightly as he stations himself by your feet and helps lift the gurney into the back of the ambulance. “Yeah, sweetheart, everyone else is alright. Might be a bit sore tomorrow, but signing refusals of treatment as we speak. Do you feel sick?”
Actually, maybe it’s the speed of the conversation that’s making you woozy. “No?”
“Well, that’s reassuring,” he jokes. “That’s okay, just let us know if you do.” He flashes you another dazzling smile.
You think you might return it, but then light hits your eyes and you wince instead.
“You’re okay,” the dark haired one—Sirius, you remember—reassures you. “I’m just going to shine this in your eyes really quickly. Try to keep them open for me?”
You do your best, and he works swiftly as promised, flashing the bright white beam into one eye and then the other before clicking it off with a gentle pat to your knee.
“Definitely concussed,” he says to the other two. Excellent.
“Okay, I’m just going to close this up for now,” the scarred one explains, voice low and soothing as he removes whatever he’s been holding to your head. “It looks like you’ll need stitches, but I need to stop the bleeding until we can get those done, yeah? It might feel like little pinches.”
“Okay,” you say, voice embarrassingly shaky from the tender way he’s holding your head in his hands. “Thank you.”
He smiles. The effect is dizzying, scars pulling taut as the severity melts from his features. “You’re welcome, lovely,” he says softly. “How’d this happen, then? Did you hit your head on the steering wheel?”
You try to remember. “I guess so. I’m…not sure.”
“That’s okay,” Sirius promises you. “James, can you check out that chest pain while I get a pulse?”
The first one, who hasn’t seemed to stop smiling despite what you consider a fairly grim circumstance—though you imagine it might be run-of-the-mill in his line of work—steps to your side. The three of them move around each other so fluidly, like they can anticipate the other’s movements. Practice, you suppose. “All right, darling,” he says, the endearment rolling off his tongue with a self-assuredness you can’t relate to, and your face warms in response, “do you mind if I move your top down a bit so I can have a look?”
You feel suddenly lightheaded. You try to nod, but the scarred one tsks at you, holding your head still with lithe fingers as he works on your cut. Thankfully, James seems to catch your meaning anyway. He’s exceedingly gentle as he wraps his fingers around the neckline of your top, pulling it into a V in the center of your chest. You follow it down with your gaze. The red line that stretches diagonally across the flat of your chest feels somewhat anticlimactic considering the deep ache that emanates from it, but James hisses sympathetically.
“Ow,” Sirius agrees. “Yeah, looks like the seatbelt got you.”
You try very, very hard not to think about how they’re all looking at your naked chest, all speaking to you so kindly, all touching you in their different ways. If you think too hard about any of it, you might actually die.
“Tell me if this hurts, alright?” James looks at you before pressing down lightly with his palm.
You start to gasp from the pain but then that hurts even worse, and your face scrunches in agony.
“Sorry, sorry.” He removes his hand hastily, putting your top back in place. “All done with that, love. It hurts when you breathe in, huh?”
“Yeah,” you affirm croakily.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” he says again, touching your shoulder with an apologetic smile. You’d never been mad, but you go ahead and forgive him anyway for looking at you so sweetly. “I’m going to feel if your ribs are broken, okay? I won’t push down again.”
You don’t have the breath to give an assent and he doesn’t wait for one, slipping a large palm under your shirt—what you wouldn’t give to have that happen under different circumstances—and feeling about your sides tenderly.
The scarred paramedic’s touch lifts from your forehead. “Okay, that’s all set. Let’s get you out of here, hm?”
“You driving, Rem?” Sirius asks, and you notice he’s finished taking your pulse but hasn’t let go of your hand, thumb stroking the inside of your wrist soothingly.
“Mhm,” the scarred one—Rem—replies, putting away some supplies. “Did you confirm she’s in shock?”
“Yup.”
“Start an IV,” Rem instructs, and Sirius scoffs like yeah, I know and waves him off. You almost laugh at the easy familiarity of it.
“Why do you think I’m in shock?” you ask as Rem hops out the back, presumably going to the driver’s side.
Sirius softens. “Your pulse is a riot, pretty girl. Plus, you’re shaking like a leaf and you’ve gone a tiny bit blue” —he taps your lips with his forefinger— “right here.”
You could pass out now. That’d be alright with you.
James straightens, having already run his fingers probingly over both your sides. “Alright, we might have a couple of small fractures, but nothing too dire. Can I see your arm, love?”
You give it to him unthinkingly, but tense when he starts feeling about the soft crook of your elbow with overly kind fingers. You’d think the effect of his touch would have diminished after he’d finished feeling you up underneath your shirt, but evidently not.
“You’re okay.” Sirius mistakes your shyness for nervousness about the IV, wrapping his fingers around your chin and turning you gently to face him. His cupid bow flattens when he gives you a small smile and a shorter piece of his dark hair has slipped free of its confines, brushing his cheekbone. “You’re okay, doll. Jamie’s a pro, yeah? Just keep your eyes on me.”
Well, if he’s gonna insist.
#poly!marauders#emt!marauders#emt!marauders x reader#marauders au#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders angst#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#the marauders#marauders x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction
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hey i had an idea and i love your seb x reader writing so i wanted to send this to you! driver! reader has a really big accident during a race like shes in a coma for some time seb becomes this completely closed off person but he visits you everyday so one day he comes to the hospital ig and readers heart stopped or something but then she comes back to life and wakes up or she dies idk if they have kids but would be nice if they’re married. idk i leave it up to you just give me some angst pls 🙏🙏🙏
COME BACK TO ME| S.VETTEL
Pairing; Sebastian Vettel x Wife!driver!reader
Summary; Sebastian’s world is turned upside down when he finds out the reason behind the red flag, the aftermath is just as torturous as the moment he got the news.
Warnings; Serious crash (a bit like Jules Bianchi’s), angst, coma, severe injuries, Sebastian’s sad :( Also Kimi and Seb bickering like children.
F1 Master List
It was no secret that Formula One was a dangerous sport, the fans knew it, the FIA knew it and the drivers knew it; but there are decisions that need to be made in order to protect the drivers because their safety should be the number one concern.
So when the FIA decided that that the weather in Suzuka wasn’t severe enough to postpone or cancel the race, pretty much every driver was against getting back on the track, there had already been a crash and to continue was just plain stupid.
Y/N knew that everyone, including the drivers, had their eyes on her. She had won the last few seasons and was the one to beat.
She never had a problem driving in the rain, in fact most of the time it added to the thrill of the race but when you could hardly even see the steering wheel you were holding, it wasn’t fun, it was scary.
She didn’t really know what had happened, she was battling Max Verstappen who had been recently promoted to RedBull; she’s been enjoying the challenge the younger driver is offering her but there were times that she didn’t agree with his decisions, they could be extremely risky and not in a good way, in a way that could cause some serious damage to either him or someone else and it seemed that this time was one of those times that his risks had consequences.
She had been ahead of him when she felt the contact that had been made to the back of her car, it wasn’t light at all, it sent her spinning completely off the track and with the slippery track and the rain continuing to pour she could not stop the car no matter how hard she tried to gain control.
She heard the gasps of the crowd as her car flipped and spun but it faded away as she tried to keep herself from moving about too much in her car; wondering how long it would take for her to stop.
Y/N did stop, eventually, but the moment she felt the contact she knew something was wrong. It felt like she had hit a brick wall, she heard the crumpling of the car’s structure before a pain like no other filled her entire body; her head throbbed and her eyes fluttered closed, her body shrouded by the remains of her car and the heavy rain.
"Red flag, Sebastian, you’re heading into the pits," Riccardo spoke over the radio.
"Fuck sake! I told you guys we shouldn’t have been sent back out here, what happened?" To say he was angry was an understatement, for the FIA to risk the lives of every driver on this track was ridiculous and quite frankly plain stupid.
"What happened, who was it?" He asked again when he wasn’t given an answer, pulling into the pits behind the two Redbulls.
"There’s been a crash, no response," Riccardo vaguely replied.
Sebastian sighed in frustration at the lack of information and detached his steering wheel, pulling himself out of the car, he didn’t even have time to pull his helmet off before Max was walking up to him and grabbing his arms.
"Seb I’m so sorry, I lost my grip and I couldn’t control it and we just collided-"
Sebastian shook his head, cutting Max off. "What are you talking about, what happened?"
Max simply stared at Seb for a moment, guilt filling his entire body as he realised Sebastian had absolutely no idea. "Seb, it’s Y/N…."
It was as thought the world had stopped turning, Max’s voice had faded away along with the sound of the crowds and everything else around him, the only thing he heard were his racing thoughts as he remembered Riccardo’s words.
No response
No response
No response
He looked up at the big screen that was showing the wreckage live, his heart dropped, the car was completely crushed and she was still in it.
He saw as a few of the Marshalls looked towards the ground briefly before looking into the direction of the camera as they all started making the same gesture, not even a minute later the screen was shut off so that no one could see what was happening.
Sebastian didn’t register his feet moving or the drop of Max’s hand from his shoulder but the next moment he was storming into the Mercedes garage demanding for some sort of information.
If it was any other driver entering their garage without permission they would’ve been immediately kicked out but knowing that Sebastian was here for no other reason that to know if his wife was okay they didn’t mention the red race suit that stood out against everyone else’s black and white uniform.
Seeing that Sebastian was simply stood there, seemingly not knowing what to do, Toto walked over to him and directed him away from his team so that they could talk.
"There was no response over the radio so we can assume that she’s unconscious, she went into that barrier at an incredible speed and the from the damage we can see there’s no way she isn’t injured in some way so she’s going to be airlifted to the nearest hospital, okay?" He spoke in a low voice so that no one could hear besides the two of them.
Sebastian made no indication that he had registered Toto’s words but he did swallow thickly before simply walking away and making his way into his own garage; he didn’t speak to anyone, instead heading straight to his drivers room.
He has taken the quickest shower of his life and changed into regular clothes, he had no intention of getting back into that car this weekend and if anyone expected him to then they were delusional.
As soon as he walked through the doors of the hospital he was approached by an older looking nurse that seemed to have been waiting for him and he could tell by the look on her face that he wasn’t going to hear anything good.
She gestured him to follow her; she lead him into an empty hospital room and gestured for him to sit down on one of the two chairs that were underneath the window, she took the other.
"Mr Vettel, I’m going to be straight with you because I wouldn’t want anyone to beat around the bush if I was in your position. The speed and force at which your wife crashed into barrier quite frankly should have killed her so bear that in mind when I go over her injuries with you because they might sound bad but for what happened I’d say she got out lucky."
Her words cut through Sebastian like a knife, tearing into his skin to leave him vulnerable to whatever she has to say next. Though, he’s grateful she’s telling him how it is instead of sugar coating the severity of everything just so that he’s not uncomfortable, he wants to understand and be aware of what exactly has happened so he gulped and nodded for her to continue.
She didn’t look at him sympathetically which he was thankful for but her expression was comforting. "The impact shattered Mrs Vettel’s tibia and fibula in her right leg, three of her ribs were also broken and a few of them are bruised, during the crash something must have made contact with your wife’s head because when we were cutting the helmet off the back of it was already broken through and it’s caused her some severe trauma to her head."
It was as though Sebastian felt the pain with each injury that was listed, the nurse was explaining it precise and slow so that he could probably understand it but there was really only one thing he wanted to know. "Is my wife going to be okay?"
This time the nurse did look at him sympathetically as she saw the pure worry in his eyes, she could see the love he felt for the Mercedes driver and the pain that this was causing him.
"Your wife is in surgery right now to fix both bones in her leg and suture up the injury on her scalp, her ribs should heal by themselves in at least six weeks but will most likely be longer, the thing we’re most worried about however is when she’s going to wake up. Whilst the knock on her head hasn’t caused any internal bleeding, we do think that’s the reason she was unconscious and not the crash itself."
Sebastian’s blood went cold at her words, "So-what, she’s in a coma?"
The woman nodded in confirmation. "Yes, it’s hard to determine when a person in a coma is going to wake up because each person is different when they’re in a position like this and I’m aware of how difficult this is for you to hear but whilst she’s in this state, it’s really the best time for her injuries to heal and hopefully she’ll wake after the worst of the pain has passed."
"How long do you think she’ll be in the coma for?"
"It varies from person to person but I’d say anywhere between a few weeks to a few months."
Sebastian nodded his head, glancing down to his lap where he was fiddling with his wedding ring. "Thank you." He simply muttered to the nurse who took that as her cue to leave.
"Mrs Vettel will be brought here after her surgery is complete, you’re welcome to wait until then or if you wish to go and come back after they’re finished we can give you a call if-"
"I’ll wait," Sebastian interrupted her and she nodded before leaving the room, closing the door behind her.
Sebastian sighed heavily into the silence of the room, placing his head in his hands; now that he was alone the strong front he had put up had disappeared, before he could stop it his eyes were watering and silent tears were falling into his hands.
He didn’t know how long he sat like that before he heard the doors to the room open and a bed was wheeled in by four or five doctors, once the bed was locked in the middle of the room all of them left but one.
The man was probably in his forties but he seemed kind enough as he regarded Sebastian. "You must be Mr Vettel?"
Sebastian hastily wiped his eyes before rubbing his hands on his legs, nodding his head.
The doctor smiled before speaking. "The surgery went well, both bones in your wife’s leg have been reconstructed but those pins will have to stay there for a month or two and afterwards she’ll need physical therapy to regain her strength back and the cut to her head has been sutured up with no issues. A nurse will come by tonight to check her vitals and ensure everything is okay, they usually do checkups every 6-8 hours but if you need something then feel free to press the button."
"I will, thank you." Sebastian smiled weakly.
"As you are her husband you can come and go as you like, you are more than welcome to have someone come and take your place when you want to go and shower or rest. If anyone wishes to come and visit then visiting hours are between 8am and 8pm, after that we only permit one person to stay."
The doctor left shortly after and after taking a deep breath Sebastian got up from his seat beneath the window and made his way to the bed.
The sight of her made him want to burst into tears all over again, she had cuts and bruises all over her face and arms, her right left was resting on a pillow but trapped inside a metal brace that was attached to the pins inside her leg, her head was bandaged to protect the stitches on from the pillow she was laying on.
She looked lifeless and the sight of it pretty much tore him in two.
He didn’t know what to do, he was here alone and the love of his life almost died.
He carefully leaned against the edge of the bed, making sure he didn’t budge anything he shouldn’t before carefully grabbing her left hand, it was bare of any rings and Sebastian hoped that they were in her driver’s room somewhere and not lost because she was so protective over them rings and would be pissed if they were lost.
He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.
It was way too silent in here, he hated it.
He leaned his body forward and pressed his face into the pillow, being mindful that he wasn’t hurting her even if she was unconscious and most likely wouldn’t feel it.
"Please come back to me, Liebling. I need you so much."
Sebastian didn’t leave the hospital that night, he had dragged the chair across the room so he could spend the night beside his wife, he hardly slept instead choosing to sit and simply watch as she ‘slept’ hoping that if he stayed awake long enough then eventually she would wake up.
She didn’t.
He had countless messages from family and drivers but he didn’t answer them, he knew not answering her family was selfish but he found that he really only cared about Y/N and no one else, that and he wasn’t ready to talk about it.
He messaged her and his parents this morning explaining what the doctors had told him yesterday but had left the other messages unread.
Not once had he let go of her hand, not when the nurses came in every couple of hours to do their checkups or when they brought him something to drink or eat, most of which went untouched.
He couldn’t explain the heartache he was feeling, to have the person you love the most in the world be in such a vulnerable position was heart wrenching, especially when it was your job and vow to protect them.
He couldn’t have stopped that crash but he will make sure he is around for every step of her recovery process.
Sebastian was thankful that there wasn’t a race this week because there was no way he was leaving her in the hospital alone to get in the car, he wasn’t in the right mindset anyways.
It seemed silly that he was also thankful that there was only four races left and Y/N had already won the championship otherwise he would’ve been devastated for her.
A knock at the door tore him away from his thoughts and he assumed that it was a nurse but was proved wrong when Max walked through the door with flowers in his hand.
Sebastian pursed his lips and looked down, he couldn’t even look at the man knowing that he was the reason his wife was unconscious in the hospital.
He knew it was wrong to blame him because he had no grip and the weather was no help but he was aware of the way the younger lad drove and knew that he took unnecessary risks, risks that could’ve killed the woman he loved.
"Uhm," Max cleared his throat awkwardly. "I messaged to see if it was okay for me to come but I didn’t get an answer and I just needed to see if she was okay."
Sebastian bit his tongue which was hard when everything inside him wanted to turn and shout at the RedBull driver that this was all his fault and he had no right to come here when he was the reason she was here in the first place, and his wife didn’t even like fucking roses so be can shove them up his arse for all Sebastian cared.
"Is she okay?"
Sebastian scoffed at the question, looking up at Max as if questioning his sanity. "Does she look okay?"
Max looked at him guiltily before glancing away, not being able to stand the look of complete despair in the German’s eyes.
"Just leave," Sebastian shook his head. "My wife’s pretty much on her death bed right now because of you and I really don’t need you coming here pretending like you care when we both know that that the only thing you care about when you’re in that car is yourself, not anyone else and certainly not their lives."
Max bit back the retort that’s on the end of his tongue knowing that the man was not in the right place right now so he placed the flowers on the table by the door and took his leave.
Sebastian sighed and tipped his head back to try and stop himself from crying, he needed to stop crying, he hadn’t done anything else in the last 24 hours.
It had been a week and Sebastian had talked to no one, none of the drivers had tried to visit so he assumed that Max had warned them to stay away which he was glad.
He had left the hospital only twice to pack some clothes and essentials for the two of them, Y/N still hadn’t woken up but the bruising on her face and arms was going down and the doctors had said her ribs were healing nicely.
He had never realised how much he had depended on her and needed her until he didn’t have her to depend on.
He loved her so much and felt like he was going insane with her right next to him but not exactly there at the same time.
Shortly after Max had left that day, two nurses had came in with Y/N’s race suit, fireproofs, balaclava, gloves, boots, two halves of her race helmet and her rings.
Sebastian had wasted no time in placing her rings back onto her hand, he didn’t think she looked right without them and knew that if she woke up without them on her hand she wouldn’t be impressed.
He had almost cried again when he picked up both pieces of her helmet and saw the place where she had been stricken on the head, there was a gash that went right through the helmet and a large red stain on her balaclava that would be beneath where the hole on her helmet is.
He had told his and Y/N’s parents that there was no point in flying in to visit until she was awake and they agreed, he also assumed that the teams had all flown back to their headquarters or the next race location so he was here alone.
Quite frankly, Sebastian didn’t know what to do, there was a race in America this week and even though it was the last thing on his mind and the last thing he wanted to do he knew that he had an obligation to be there, he couldn’t just not show up and it seemed like Britta had the same idea as he saw her name pop up on his phone trying to call him, it wasn’t the first time but it seemed like she was unrelenting this time.
"What do you want?" He sighed as he pressed the phone against his ear, running a hand over his face.
"Oh, so you are alive!" Her surprised voice was way too loud in his ear.
"Just tell me what you want, Britta." Sebastian had no time or patience for her teasing or jokes.
"You need to be in America in three days, Sebastian, I understand that you don’t want to see anyone and the last thing you want to do is get in a car but you do have an obligation to be there." She told him sadly.
"I have an obligation to take care of my family, Britta, I couldn’t give a shit about racing."
"You can’t stay in Japan, Seb."
"What do you want me to do, leave her here in a different country by herself?"
"I think you should move her to a facility in Switzerland for starters so that you can at least be near home."
Sebastian stayed silent, he couldn’t argue with that logic, it probably would be better, even for Y/N so that she wouldn’t have to fly when she was awake and recovering.
"I’ll talk to you tomorrow," he told her before hanging up, not allowing her to say anything else.
The next day he had payed to have Y/N transferred to the closest hospital to where they lived in Switzerland and had flown out her parents so that they could stay with her whilst he was in America.
He had put his foot down on missing media day, he’d go Friday, Saturday and leave immediately after the race on Sunday and would call his in laws multiple times a day whilst he was gone, he was not happy about it but it was the best he could do.
They were currently waiting outside of the room whilst Sebastian said his goodbyes to Y/N, he had spoken to her everyday just on the off chance that she could hear everything that was going on around her, the last thing he wanted was for her to have to suffer in silence whilst she was in this position.
He pressed his forehead against hers, which was now bandage free, closing his eyes to relish in the contact that he wouldn’t have for the next couple of days.
"I love you so much, liebe and I’m going to be back as soon as I can. You better not wake up whilst I’m gone otherwise I’m going to be pissed off with you," he chuckled weakly knowing that is something she’d probably do.
He pressed a kiss to her head and one to the back of her hand before reluctantly getting up, grabbing his back and leaving the room, knowing that if he didn’t go now then he never would.
Sebastian knew he was pushing his limits but couldn’t find it in himself to care, it was Friday and he had arrived in America this morning but hadn’t shown up at the track until just ten minutes before FP1 started.
He had been on the phone with his mother in law as soon as he got off the plane and hadn’t hung up until a few hours later but the real reason he had left it so long to head to the track was so that he could avoid most of the cameras as he was walking in, knowing that they’d now mostly be focused on the team garages.
Speaking of teams, Y/N’s seat had been filled in by Esteban Ocon for the rest of the season, the smallest part of Sebastian felt guilty knowing that Toto Wolff had been trying to find out what was going on with his driver but Seb had made sure everything was kept under wraps.
The only people who knew how she was were family, Britta and Y/N’s PR manager, Freya and every single one of them had no intention of spilling any information.
He could feel the eyes on him and hear the muttering as he walked through the paddock, he hadn’t even been here five minutes and he was already getting annoyed by the cameras and how loud it was.
It pissed him off even more when he saw team members from other motorhomes coming out to watch as if he was going to stand there and make a grand statement to let them all know how Y/N was.
He just ignored them and walked into the Ferrari motor home to his drivers room so he could change into his race gear.
He made sure he had his helmet on before he left his room, making a clear statement that he was in no mood to talk to anyone, thankfully the team respected it and let him get straight into the car, just in time for FP1 to start.
It felt wrong, he and Y/N had a small ritual they did before they got into the car, they had done it for years and this would be the first time getting into the car without it.
"Okay, Sebastian, you’re free to leave the garage, just give Mattia a heads up when you’re ready. You’re on mediums for now," Riccardo spoke through his ear piece.
Sebastian didn’t answer but he did nod his head towards a mechanic to let him know he was ready.
He was top of the time sheet for both practises today, he wouldn’t say he had tried to be in that position, he had just channelled his frustration into his driving.
"Sebastian, top of the time sheet today, does that mean the car was feeling well for you?" The woman in front of him asked, holding out her microphone for him.
"It felt fine," he responded, he wasn’t even looking at her, he was too busy thinking about phoning Y/N’s parents when he got out of here.
"You’re back after a week off, did you end up doing anything interesting?" He was aware that the woman was trying to subtly pry information from him about Y/N and it pissed him off so he just scoffed and walked away, knowing Britta was going to have to do a bit of damage control.
"Hey! Seb! Seb!" He heard Lewis call after him but continued walking causing the English driver to have to run to catch up to him, clasping a hand on Sebastian’s shoulder to get him to stop walking.
"Hey, are you alright, mate?"
Sebastian rolled his eyes "I’d be find if everyone stopped asking me that stupid question."
"Alright," Lewis nodded, not one to get offended or hurt at the tone Sebastian used because he understood. "How’s my teammate?"
Seb raised a hand to his forehead in frustration at the question, he could feel himself losing it. "What do you want me to say, Lewis? She’s clearly not fine other wise you would’ve heard something so will you and everyone else just leave me the fuck alone."
He didn’t wait for a reply, instead walking away, hopefully to make that phone call he’s been wanting to make since the last one had ended but just as he was about to shut the door to his driver’s room, a hand caught it.
"For fuck sake, can I not get a moment alone around here!?"
"Don’t start your attitude with me," Kimi grunted and Sebastian sighed, now was not the time for him to deal with Kimi.
"What do you want?"
"I want what everyone else wants."
"Well I hate to break it to you but just because you’re my teammate doesn’t mean I’m telling you how she is."
Kimi rolled his eyes and made himself comfortable on Sebastian’s bed whilst the latter was looking around for his phone.
"That’s not what I was talking about, I’m talking about the mood you’re in, you need to get out of it and get a grip, that’s what Y/N would want, not you walking around and sulking ruining everyone else’s day."
Sebastian shot him a dirty look. "You don’t know what she’d want and neither do I right now because she’s in the hospital, and if anyone has a problem with my attitude I’m perfectly fine with them staying away from me."
Kimi sent him a sarcastic smile, matching his attitude. "Well I have a problem with it cause you took my personality."
"What?"
Kimi sighed and stretched out. "You know how exhausting it is to have to be the happy one out of the two of us, that’s supposed to be your job but since Y/N’s crash, I have to be that person and I’m sick of it."
"Well I’m sorry that my wife’s injuries are such an inconvenience to you," Sebastian rolled his eyes.
Kimi groaned in annoyance, "you are so fucking annoying without her."
"Thanks, I’ll tell Minttu you said that." Sebastian replied sarcastically, now having his phone in his hand.
"Go for it," Kimi shrugged. "When Y/N wakes up I’ll tell her how much of an arsehole you’ve been."
Seb ignored him and pressed his phone to his hear, waiting for his mother in law to pick up for an update.
He had finished P4 in the race that weekend and had gotten straight on a flight back to Switzerland, skipping his post race interviews in the media tent.
He hadn’t even called Y/N’s parents after the race for an update, instead settling for a simple text in the airport when he was boarding the plane; both of them were picking him up from the airport and taking him straight to the hospital, he was strangely looking forward to being able to see her again, even if she was still in a coma.
He was happy that his flight had quite literally flown by and was sitting in the car behind his in laws just twenty minutes after landing.
"How is she?" He immediately asked.
"She’s okay, the doctors have said she’s healing up nicely." Y/N’s dad told him, the news relaxing him a bit.
"Are you guys coming in?" He asked as he held the car door open, surprised when he saw them both shaking their heads.
"We’ll come by tomorrow, you should have some time alone with her."
Sebastian nodded and bid them goodbye, actually happy that they had chosen to do that because after not seeing her for a couple of days, some time alone was what he needed.
He practically ran through the hallways of the hospital, care workers saw him but chose not to reprimand him as they were aware of who he was and how eager he probably was to see his wife.
He exhaled heavily when he got to the closed door of her room, standing there for a few moments to calm down a bit.
When he pushed open the door, he got the shock of his life.
Y/N was lying there in her hospital bed with her leg still resting on a pillow as it had been for the last two weeks but this time, the top of her bed was raised to put her in a sitting position, she had oxygen tubes in her nose but her head was turned towards the door he had just walked through and she was looking at him!
She was clearly very sleepy and tired but her eyes were as open as far as she could hold them and she was looking at him with a sleepy smile on her face.
She blinked slowly at him for a moment as he stared before holding out her hand for him and he took that as his cue to move towards her.
"Hi baby," she mumbled through a smile, not really having the energy to say anything more but it was enough for Sebastian’s eyes to start watering as he collapsed onto the chair that was beside her bed, grasping her hand in his own.
He raised his other to her cheek and softly stroked the skin there, smiling through his tears as he felt her lean into his touch.
"Hi," he breathed in disbelief, "How long have you been awake?" He whispered, fearing if he spoke any louder it would hurt her.
"Before the race, I watched it," she told him as though she was proud of herself was waking up in time to see it.
"Yeah? What did you think?" He humoured her, not really wanting to talk about the race but it seemed to make her happy so he did.
"You did good," she told him, subtly rubbing her thumb across his hand.
Sebastian simply smiled at her, he wiped his face on his arm to get rid of his tears before looking back at her again with nothing but adoration in his eyes.
"I love you so much." He told her surely, as though she may have forgotten whilst she was in the coma.
"Ich liebe dich auch," she replied back softly making him laugh, she always said it in his native language because she thought it would feel more real for him to hear.
"Are you tired?" He asked when he noticed her fighting to keep her eyes open.
Y/N nodded slowly before looking at him. "Come and lay with me," she told him.
Sebastian shook his head softly even though he wanted nothing more than to cuddle with her. "That’s probably not a good idea, liebe."
"When has that ever stopped you?" She pouted but rose an eyebrow at him.
He couldn’t argue with her there so he got up from his seat, protesting when she tried to move and make room for him.
He climbed in next to her and lightly wrapped his arm around her, she scooted closer and carefully adjusted her top hand so that her head was resting against him.
Sebastian rested his head against hers, pressing a kiss into her hair. "Liebe?" He asked, earning a slight hum in return.
"Don’t listen to anything Kimi says, he’s a liar."
"Hm’kay, Seb." She muttered, already pretty much asleep.
"I missed you so much," he muttered against her, carefully tightening the arm he had wrapped around her,
He wouldn’t be letting her out of his sight again.
#formula one#fluff#motorsport#seb5#formula one x reader#seb vettel#sebastian vettel#sebastian vettel x reader#f1 fanfiction#sebastian vettel x you#sebastian vettel imagine#seb
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