Overview: Y/n is in a car accident and Shawn leaves one of his concerts to be with her.
I tried peeling my eyes open but the harsh light made them snap shut again. Groaning, pain traveled up my body as I tried to move to a more comfortable position.
“Shh, stay still. You’re in a lot of pain,” A soft voice told me, gently moving my blankets back over me from when they fell previously. Finally being able to open my eyes I looked around the room I was in.
“Where am I?” I asked, voice scratchy. The room was small and completely white. A machine beeped near my head but it hurt to move to look at it.
“You’re in hospital,” a nurse tells me, looking up from the clipboard to meet my eyes. “You we’re in a serious car accident but you’re stable now.” She pushes her glasses up from where they were sliding down her nose. Her dark hair was tied back in a bun and she looked a few years older then what I was.
“Okay,” I murmur, my gaze moving to the small, fourth story window displaying the park down below. My head felt as though I had been hit by a truck, ironic as I was in a car accident, and my body felt like mush when I tried to move it.
“You woke up just in time for you to receive more pain killers, you’ll be getting them around every 4 hours. Dr Samaro will be in later this evening also to check in just to make sure everything’s okay after the surgery.” She tells me, putting a fluid into the drip connected to me.
“I had surgery?” I asked dazed, the information taking a while to process.
“You had a couple shattered ribs, one of the bones was pressing into your lungs which nearly ruptured it so we had to operate to fix it. You also suffered from a mild concussion and also a small fracture in your left knee,”
“Wow,” my mind was blank and all I wanted to do was sleep.
“Your family has arrived, but right now I’m going to give you a medication that will help you sleep as you must be in a lot of pain,”
I nod my head, letting out a little “Mmh,” in agreement before sleep pulls me under.
Quiet chatter brings me out of the haze I was in. The room is darker than what it was before, creating faint shadows from the light against the faces of the two people who stand beside my bed.
“Y/n,” A women closet to me says, smiling at me softly. “I’m Dr Samaro, I operated on you this morning. I’m here to check how you’re feeling?”
“Alright I guess, the pain killers are working,” I chuckle slightly but think better of it when my ribs protest in pain.
“That’s good. All seems fine after the surgery, no internal bleeding or infections yet. They’re going to bring dinner round in half an hour and I advise that you eat in small mouthfuls okay?” I can detect a slight British accent when she speaks.
“Cool,” I say tiredly, looking up at her.
“There’s also someone here to see you in the waiting room, you can see them if you would like too?”
“Yes please,” I say, immediately perking up.
She nods and turns away, the nurse following swift behind her, the door shutting on her way out.
A minute later it reopens.
“Y/n, shit, Y/n,” Shawn appears, rushing over to my bed, grabbing my hand in his warm ones. “What did you do to yourself, huh?’ he kisses my forehead gently before kneeling down to be eye level with me.
“I’m fine,” I say, voice still raspy. His brown eyes lock with mine, filled with concern and fear for what could have happened. “It’s okay Shawn, I’m here,”
Tears well in his eyes and he brings my hand up to kiss my knuckles. “You scared the shit out of me! I was on stage then suddenly Andrew pulled me off to the side to tell me that you’d been in a car accident, critical condition, and quite possibly could die,”
My breathe falters. “Die?” I question, my voice just above a whisper.
“I left the arena immediately and booked a flight from Los Angeles to Toronto and I’ve been in the waiting room ever since. I got here a little before you first woke up but they wanted you to rest a bit more. Andrew got here a couple hours ago and mum and dad are coming in the morning with Aaliyah,”
I wipe away a tear that’s making its way down his cheek.
“God, I so thought that this was it. I thought I lost you,” more tears spill from him causing my own eyes to water.
“You didn’t loose me,” I attempt to say strongly but my voice tremors.
Shawn smiles, trying to pull himself together. “It just scared me, thinking that you could just be here one day and the next gone,”
“I know baby but you can’t think like that,” I say softly, my thumb stroking his hand.
“I’m sorry, I’m a mess,” he chuckles. “You’re the one in pain and I’m acting like this,”
“It just shows you care,” I say trying not to laugh as it hurts my ribs.
“As soon as I heard I was running, I was like lightning,” He says, proud at how fast he got here, making me grin.
“I bet you were,”
“Or the flash,” he has a thoughtful expression for a second. “I’m defiantly the flash,”
Can u do a headcanon on the gang going on a road trip to the beach or something fun like that?
-Steve and Soda are criticizing all the crappy cars they drive by
-Ponyboy and Johnny are in the third row, Two-Bit, Dally, and Steve are in the middle row (BAD COMBINATION), and Darry and Sodapop are in the front
-Soda keeps complaining that he’s too hot
-Two-Bit keeps making awful puns
-Pony and Johnny are playing the license plate game
-Darry’s so fucking annoyed
-“I wiLL tUrN ThIs GodAMn cAr aRoUnD iF aLL oF YoU dO NoT sHuT uP”
-Dally wakes up and tries to smoke in the car
-Soda keeps breaking Dally’s cigarettes because he doesn’t want him to fill the car with smoke
-Dally’s piSSeD at everyone because he wants to go to sleep again
I can do gang at the beach too, if you request separately, I just thought it would be too long of a post
I think it’s kinda funny how everyone here is gushing over Jackson Storm and what he’s gonna do in the film and “What if he gets a redemption arc???”
and then there’s me
in the back of the room
with my McQueen and Mater plushies
wondering why everyone likes him so much in the first place.
((…In all seriousness, can someone please explain why you like him so much? I’m not really an “antagonists” type of person, and with all the promotional material showing just how big of an insensitive, rude jerk he is, could someone please reply with why they like him? I’d genuinely like to know))
A Housemaid (A/F) (You x Taehyung)
(Ongoing) | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 - After an unfortunate event, you must replace your mother’s job as a housemaid at the Kim residence.
Just Breathe. (Drama) (BTS) - Yoongi has an asthma attack, but have no fear Bangtan is here!
In Debt (F/Drama) (You x Jungkook) (Ongoing) Part 1 | Part 2 -
All your life you’ve been taken care of by your rich father and his money, but when a someone named Jungkook barges into your home demanding for his money back, your life is turned upside down.
Your Summer (F) (You x Taehyung) - Although you hate being on your father’s disgusting, filthy farm, Taehyung is the only thing that makes you want to stay.
Drained Out (F) (You x Jungkook) - You told Jungkook you missed him, so he tries his best to stay awake for you.
Run (A/F) (You x Hoseok) - Hoseok looks like trouble, so you’re surprised when he keeps you safe when you’re the one in trouble.
Y/N and Park (F) (You x Jimin) - Jimin was popular and you weren’t. You never thought your paths would cross, and you never wanted them to. However, fate had other plans.
WARNING: mention of drug-use (responsibly; sleeping medication)
also, a thanks for @stilinski-jpeg for checking it out and giving me some insight. i hope you all enjoy this series as much as me!
“It won’t be when he finds out.”
Everything was quiet. It wasn’t that soothing quiet that put you to sleep, nor the unsettling quiet that causes a chill to climb your spine. It was the bleak, awkward quiet. And, for some reason, I liked it. I liked not being pestered after just being bombarded with personal questions and evaluated as if my mentality was an algebra problem to be solved. Expressionless and emotionless did I sit there, in my aunt’s car, content in this quiet, until a familiar strained voice disrupted the hovering silence.
“So, how did it go?” I pondered over that. I thought of it as a weird question to ask someone, especially after a therapy session. I was distasteful for any question of any kind, and I believed that she would’ve been aware of that. Instead of retorting back, I gulped a nonexistent lump from my throat while my eyes cautiously wandered over to her. My aunt was a beautiful, yet haggard appearing, woman who I never thought to be currently raised by. Layla, my aunt, was a woman who looked like she belonged in some prestigious reality television show, a woman who looked like she would be adorned in the dressing fit for a celebrity with roses decorating her hair and face relaxed and eased. However, here she was beside me, wearing a plain, loose and grey tee-shirt, matching grey flats, pale blue mom jeans, and her hair clipped-up that made her look like she just returned from a long nap. But, her features were stressed and drained, which contrasted her casual appearance prominently. You would’ve thought that maybe she just had a busy day, but I had never seen a day pass by without her features looking constricted and exhausted. I always desired to ask what troubled her so much, but I was fearful of the answer.
A shrug lazily cascaded off my shoulders, as my eyes trailed off of Layla and out to the frontal window. The light grey and dull atmosphere eased me, but it tempted no words to leave my mouth. I could feel Layla being eager for a verbal answer, and so I obliged to her unspoken want, hesitantly and quickly, as if I was embarrassed to speak about it. “Not much to talk about.” I vaguely replied, as my right leg bounced in impatience for our conversation to be over. “The usual.” This was a problem of mine: talking. It was a silly thing if you think about it; it was like every word spoken out of my mouth to someone continuously made me shrivel up in discomfort. I only had two people who I could recall reaching a full-on conversation with, and one of them went to college to professionally get a license for it. My words to Layla were blunt and vague, as if every time I told her something about me, there was always something left unsaid. A deleted scene from a film, an unfinished ending to a book, a puzzle piece missing that prevented it from being complete. Usually I could sense that our talks left her unsatisfied, while in contrast I was happy that I kept myself bottled and my thoughts sealed from my lips. I was happy with the incomplete, she was not.
The small car moves with a little jolt, and I press myself firmer against the leather seat, thinking back to what my therapist had told me. We were discussing the benefits of talking itself, and I told her about how picky I was with the people I involved myself with. Most of the time I felt like I had no choice – it’s not like someone like Lydia Martin would ever waltz up to me and offer to compare pajamas at her house. So, I never tried. I was always in the background, and I kept myself in it, too scared to see what would happen if I stepped up. My self-esteem defined my limits, and my barren contact list demonstrated that clearly. “It’ll get better if you just let it, you know.” My aunt’s sudden words took me off my pedestal of musing thought for a moment, my eyes widening while I glanced at her like she had just said something insane. I heard her breathe out a defeated, lightly frustrated sigh. “I want you to be better. And I know you do too.” We made it on the highway in the direction straight to home. “Next week marks three years, Hannah. Your therapist has suggested Eichen House at this point.” My body immediately stiffened at the two words; my breath hitched in my throat, the small neck hairs stood tall, while my heart struggled to find a steady beat. I tried to pace my breathing, and Layla seemed to notice, and I felt the regret coursing through her veins. “I made your uncle promise me to not send you back, however. Sending you there when you were just thirteen was a terrible idea. So, you know how I feel towards that place. But you also know I’d do anything just to help you get better too, right?” I shot her a look of fear, and she visibly tensed. “It’s not up for discussion, Hannah. I already turned down her suggestion.”
My heart quickly slowed down as a blossoming feeling of relief washed over my chest, causing me to puff out a string of air. My leg ceased its bouncing as I simply slouched into the seat like a lump on a stump, my head leaning against the cold window in my passenger seat’s door. The rest of the car-ride was silent, and the quietness from before is diminished, left only with anxiety-inducing quiet that left me frozen, but uncomfortable, in my seat. I tried not to think about it. I refused to think about it. I hated that place. I hated it with a burning passion. I would never go back.
I am never going back. And with that statement tattooed in my brain, I nodded just the slightest to myself.
Amid my discomfort, a vibrating buzzing coming from my back pocket shoved me out of my entrancement. I cringed, a single hand rubbing over my ears as I reached from behind me to see what notification I had received. Judging from even the shortest glance at the contact’s name, my heart skid. The message itself was a bit odd, but I didn’t care – because it came from him, the person who sent it.
S: Eight o’clock sharp. My house.
A cool rush of excitement layered itself over my bones, while an equal amount of confusion wrote itself across my features. Unlocking my phone, the screen blew up the conversation from the night before and the new text message he sent. I re-read the message a thousand times, trying to knit out what he could possibly want me so urgently for. Guessing it was from Stiles Stilinski, there wasn’t much to expect. My thumbs carefully crafted a text message back. And I send it in with no confidence whatsoever.
H: what for ?
My heart jumped when the immediate blinking ellipses appeared on the screen, indicating of his speedy response back. I sat up straighter in the car seat, eyes flickering up to the road-ahead from time-to-time. Beacon Hills was a small town, so it usually didn’t take long to get home, but I was always instinctively curious to see how far away we were from home. My body jumped a little at the vibration from his text back.
S: Duty calls.
Eyebrows crunching together, I huffed out a stressful breath out my nose. Stiles doesn’t hesitate to send another text underneath his previous one.
S: Batman is in need of his Robin. Be there. Please.
My teeth bit down on my bottom lip, thumb circling over the replier while I thought of something to say back. I have zero idea of what he’s talking about, and I feel like I should know, but I can’t quite put my finger on a conversation where we discussed something critically significant. The car takes a turn to the right and into our neighborhood. My teeth releasing my lip, I ran my tongue over it instead, the bottom lip poking out while, dumbfounded, I sighed. Giving a trivial second of thought to it, I shook my head and texted back.
H: i’ll see if i can.
The car comes to a smooth stop, tires squeaking a little in response. Peering upwards from my phone-screen, I heard Layla exit out of the car and go to the doorway without a second thought towards me. She was mangling with her keys, attempting to find the right one in a way that didn’t look like she was rushing. I leant back in my seat, and unbuckled myself. I swallowed a breath of air before I opened my mouth to call out for her. “Aunt Layla!” Her head pivoted around her shoulder, mouth slightly agape while her expression is off-guard and messy. She turned away from the door and jogged back to the car, opening the door as she plopped herself back down in the driver’s seat. Layla seemed a bit confused of what I wanted, or why I would call out for her so subtly, but she only had a look of honest and pure curiosity in her soft, dark brown eyes.
Uncomfortably shifting in my seat, I raspberried before I cleared my throat. “S-Stiles wants me to come over to his house for a little while. Is that alright?” I watched as Layla looked down at the radio for a few seconds, then to her hands, and then back up at me. She pursed her lip, in evident thought, before rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, as she shook her head. My heart sunk a little, if I were to be honest, but I showed no alter in expression. I gripped onto my phone a little tighter, and she faltered.
“It’s a school night.” Is all she says for a few seconds, and I felt like I should intervene with her decision if that was her reason. She had allowed Stiles to come over for a study night plenty of times during the school week, and even then, sometimes we would both fall asleep with heavy textbooks in our laps, my head-on Stiles shoulder or his on mine, and Layla would be okay with that. So, I was a bit confused on how this was any different. She reached into her own back pocket and pulled out a bottle of pills with my name sketched with sharpie on the cap. “You also need to get used to your new sleeping medicine.” I frowned, now looking at my lap to avoid eye-contact. I remembered the night before when we were talking about my sleeping medication, and how Melatonin wasn’t strong enough. So, she had promised me to get me something better to treat me. But, sometimes, I just didn’t like talking about it. I didn’t like talking about how my own issues burdened her to get me something new that probably choked her wallet. “But tomorrow would be perfectly fine. It would be nice to see you get out of the house on a Friday night every now and then, even if you’re just going to Stiles’s house.” I shrugged in response, and, as I looked at her wordlessly for a split second, I opened my car-side door and shivered a little in the lightly damp air. She got out too, and, without batting an eye towards me to see my reaction, headed over to the door, where she was a few minutes previously. I texted Stiles with an answer.
H: can’t do it tonight. tomorrow?
And, as usual, Stiles texted back in the speed of light.
S: No. This is urgent! I need you!
My phone proceeded to blow up with text messages, and, instead of reading them all, I turned off my phone and headed inside; Layla graciously had been standing there holding the door open for me. I appreciatively sent her the weakest of grins, and she seems to take upon it, since the next time I looked at her afterwards, she has a huge smile on her face. I gulped and treaded upstairs, not saying a word to that.
S: Stiles in need? Hello?
I creaked my door open, while trudging to my bed.
S: Desperate Stiles requesting backup?
Hola? Por favor?
Do I even exist now? Earth to Milton!
I rolled my eyes at my vibrating phone, slowly taking a seat on my bed. The plain baby blue covers cushioned me as I set my phone aside, rubbing my eyes as if I was tired.
S: Stiles Stilinski is going to throw himself out a window if Hannah Milton doesn’t text him back this very moment.
I moved onto my shoes. Dirty white Chuck Taylor’s that I wore only if I planned on going somewhere I dreaded. Why? They were comfy and didn’t pain my feet. And if I was going somewhere I didn’t want to that required walking or physically getting out of a car, I wanted to feel as comfortable as possible so my attitude wouldn’t sour. Usually nothing went well when my attitude took a trip down south. Untying the laces that were wrapped around my ankles and tied to the front, I opened the shoe so my foot could slide out with ease. I went to my other shoe, doing the same actions. My socks were the same ones I fell asleep in, that somehow didn’t disappear underneath the covers, and at this point I felt like they were strangling my feet. I peeled them off my feet and tossed them across the room, a breathy moan of delight from the cool touch of air onto my feet being released in response.
S: You’re paying my hospital bill.
I groaned, snatching my phone from beside me and opening to numerous frantic messages from Stiles. I typed back frustratedly, annoyed at his childish spamming.
H: and you’re paying the phone bill if you keep harassing my phone with your texts. i can’t do it tonight stiles. i wish i could but i’m not allowed. skype ??
I could practically hear the sigh of annoyance coming from Stiles. He texts back, but in parts.
S: I need you physically.
In the flesh.
Before I could text him back to tell him to stop texting me, he texted again. I flattened my body on my bed, sprawling out my legs and letting my knees bend comfortably while an arm bent above my head.
S: What we’re going to be looking for requires fully-functioning eyeballs.
I stared at that text for a minute or two, confused by what he was talking about. I didn’t need to know, seeing that it came from Stiles, it would either be extremely preposterous, inane or impossible.
H: you aren’t going sherlock again, are you?
He immediately texted back.
S: No I am not going Sherlock. This is important.
H: yeah, that’s what you said in our expedition to find bigfoot. remember how that went down? you got lice after butting heads with scott and you didn’t want your dad freaking out so you gave yourself a buzz cut at scott’s house. good times, am i right? i wonder if bigfoot would approve.
S: Stop reminding me. Unless you want to wake up being buzz-cut buddies with me. Plus, this is real stuff!
I squinted my eyes at that, as I ran my free hand through my hair self-consciously, pulling at them slightly. Stiles used to have this Bieber hair, long and swept across his face, until he had learnt how to gel it upwards, which exposed his forehead and kept his hair out of his face. I used to tease him about how long it was and called him Rapunzel. He would retort back and call my hair a rat’s fiesta, because usually my hair wasn’t the tidiest. I don’t think I had ever managed to keep it down with a straightener. I didn’t even have curls, or waves for all that matter, I just had difficult, thin hair. I had experimented with it, such as dyeing the ends various colors (one of them ended up being a navy-blue that faded to a gray; Stiles called me granny for two weeks after that happened), until I settled with a professionally-done ombré. I had this weird, dirty blonde/light brown hair, but the blonde contrasted it well, and quite frankly I was done turning the ends of my hair into a rainbow. My hair reached little ways past my chest, and it cascaded off my shoulders while often holding a soft texture. But my hair was truly high-maintenance and it bothered the hell out of me. Without sparing another useless thought to it, and I texted him back.
H: what kind of ‘real stuff’ can this possibly be ??
S: A body.
My eyes widened. I sat up from the bed gingerly. Was he kidding? Was he actually kidding? A body? Really?
H: are you serious?
Stiles didn’t seem too affected by my probing question.
S: As serious as serious can be.
H: a body.
S: Yes. I need you to help me find it.
I shook my head, nervously running my tongue over my lips. I knew what to expect out of someone like Stiles – being heavily involved in his father’s cases when we shouldn’t be, getting in trouble for it, Stiles taking all the blame. It all ended up in the same ending, and all began with the same origin of curiosity; Stiles would get into his father’s files or on his computer without his permission, or even ask him about what he was doing, then he’d get Scott and I, and then Stiles would go crazy-Sherlock to find out an answer to the investigation. It only worked about three times in all the years all three of us went ‘treasure hunting’, as Scott and I referred to it nowadays, but Sheriff still got onto Stiles for it. We’d search all through the Preserve when we were little, trying to find a missing person or search for clues, and we’d play detectives so much I guess Stiles wanted to become one himself. I only started helping him because I was his friend and though I’d deny my aunt that I did it to just be around him, deep down I knew that was why I did it. Especially now. Oh well.
H: are you out of your damn mind, stilinski ?? you think we can actually find a body ??
I sighed stressfully, yet my body argued with my mind as my stomach slightly churned in excitement. The more reckless side of me would go body-hunting in a heartbeat, mostly because I could find a body after just a few steps in the direction of it. It must be another reason why Stiles dragged me into things like this; he didn’t know how or why I was good with looking for things, but he wanted me to come anyways to help him out. I crinkled my nose at the thought of it, as I shook my head at my phone screen at his text back.
S: Well half a corpse shouldn’t be that difficult to find.
“What the hell.” I whispered, my features contorted in conveyance of too many feelings to decipher towards his response. A body was one thing, but half of a body gave me the chills. Thinking of the person capable of it, too, set me off in ways I didn’t want it to. I had a bad feeling towards it, as if my instincts were compelling me not to go. Something was wrong with that, and I didn’t want to mess with it. Just something about it said that what did it wasn’t very humanly. Then again, a lot of things messed up people do can separate them from human.
H: oh my god
I didn’t want to go.
H: no. i can’t. layla won’t let me out of the house tonight. we can do this tomorrow.
I felt like shutting off my phone completely after sending that. I grew tired of this. Every time we went out to do something risky like this, and I had to use my own abilities to help, being barred from telling him how I did it, both disgusted and saddened me. I hated reminding myself of what I was, and my capabilities that came along with it. I wanted him to text me about something else for once. A Star Wars marathon. A normal sleepover like old times. A date. Just – anything – other than this. I wanted to scold him for it. I wanted to send him an essay-length of how dragging me into this forcefully made him a shitty friend. How I didn’t want him as a friend. But, like always, my mind got ahead of my actions, and the response bar remained empty.
S: No, we can’t! In the name of Sherlock and our friendship, I need your assistance tonight! We’re going to get Scott too.
My eyes prickled.
H: i can’t. sorry. i have to go.
S: I swear to God, Hannah.
I shut off my phone and set it aside. I glared at my ceiling at the pestering noise of countless vibrations coming from my phone, running my hands through my hair till they simply rested on my temples. I gasped a little in small fright when the familiar creak of my door opened, revealing a more relaxed appearing Layla to come into my view, holding something in her hand – though I knew what it was. I had forgotten my medication. I think it should be up to you whether it was intentional or not. I let my hands smack beside me on my bed, on the opposite side of the bed of Layla. A small sound of her setting a bottle down on my counter made my ears perk, but I still continued to ignore her presence. I heard no movement, and I could feel her eyes sternly staring into my slouched back. “What were you doing?” She asked in a gentle tone of voice. I turned my body hesitantly to face her, sucking in all the emotions I wanted to spill to her. I had never ranted to her, or for anyone for the matter. I had only ranted to Scott, but that was because he kept spraying himself in bug-repellant and it was hurting my nose, despite him being a couple feet away from me.
“Talking to Stiles.” I mumbled. Layla goes to sit by me, but refrains after I shuffled a little in the opposite direction in fright of her doing so. I kept my distance, fearful if she got a good look of me, she’d see that I was on the verge of crying. And I didn’t want another therapy session.
She, instead, sighed. “I would’ve let you go over there, Hannah. You know I have no problem with Stiles. Though your uncle begs to differ sometimes, I don’t ever mind it when you spend time with him with Scott, or even just him alone.” I tried to falter at her words, but, for some reason, I only stiffened more. I liked her words, I knew what she was telling me, and I knew better than to bite her back with a retort in response. “I just don’t want you to mess up your sleeping schedule again and make you unhealthy. I care about you, and even if you won’t accept that, I do anyways. Take two before you go to bed; there’s water downstairs if you need help downing them. Both your doctor and your therapist said I have to watch you take it. I know you aren’t a reckless kid, and I know you wouldn’t try to do anything you shouldn’t with drugs like this, but it’s just for your safety.” She acted as if I didn’t already know that. Sleeping medication could potentially be very addictive, and she didn’t want me overdosing. I only nodded my head, and she hooks her hands behind her back.
Layla nodded herself and hesitantly placed her hand on my back. I cringed and moved a bit in discomfort, but her gentle kiss to my forehead eased me, even if I didn’t want to. I felt terrible for feeling this way about her, about her touch. I knew she meant no harm to me, she didn’t mean harm to anyone. So why did I distance myself from her as if she would? I didn’t want to ask my therapist for the answer, because I was terrified of the answer myself. I had gone through it once, I thought, maybe I’m just scared I’ll go through it again. My therapist had told me about fear. How it controlled you, pushed you around as if you were its puppet and it was holding the strings. Apparently I handed over the strings too often. “What do you want for dinner?” I shrugged in response, and she sighed once more, a forced smile making its way onto her lips. Without another second spared, she turned her body to face the door and walked straight out of it, not hovering over me with questions. She shut the door behind her, and I relaxed a little at the sound of it.
Looking at my bedside table, I reached for the pill bottle. My thumb swiped over the smooth packaging, as my eyes skimmed over the label: Restoril. I shut my eyes, remembering the first time I was handed a pill bottle like this one. Melatonin wasn’t anything supposed to be serious, it was just something to treat someone with sleeping issues. I remembered my heart sinking when they handed it over to me, as if I was this mentally slanted psychopath for being handed something that would aid me. Maybe because of the reasons for it gave me ugly memories of the times I couldn’t go to sleep. The nights I slept on a basement floor rather than a bed. Not being able to sleep on a mattress that didn’t belong to me in a place I didn’t want to be in. I sniffled, my cheeks suddenly feeling damp. I snapped out of my entrancement and wiped at my cheeks annoyingly. I couldn’t cry over this. This was me. This is what I was going through. I needed to stop being so depressed by looking at something that helped me. But what would Stiles think of you when he finds out the real reason why you need this shit? How would your aunt and uncle react when you tell them that it isn’t just nightmares and insomnia that make you this way? How will you ever look at yourself and claim to be human when the pills you’re taking just takes you one step back from being normal? I shook my head a bit rigorously in response to my thoughts. You aren’t normal. You aren’t human. How many bottles will it take before you realize it? “Shut up.” He won’t ever look at you the way you look at him. You’re becoming hollow. Like your father.
“Shut. Up. Shut up.” I pleaded through gritted teeth. The thoughts ceased, and I let out a breath. I slid off my bed, as I sunk down to my bottom while my legs lazily arched below my chest, my feet too sliding down the carpet of my bedroom floor. I faced the full-body mirror in front of me, my toes lightly brushing against the wooden frame of it. I tilted my head, looking at myself. What a mess. My oversized black sweatshirt hung off my curvy body, the slight crevice of my shoulder bones even popping out through the collar of it a little. My tapered skinny jeans hugged my legs, making my thighs round at the top. I shook my head for about the fiftieth time, but it wasn’t at another person or thing. It was at me. I looked over at the bedside table again, examining the pill bottle. I could read the side effects. Daytime drowsiness, amnesia or forgetfulness, muscle weakness or lack of balance, numbness or burning/tingly feelings, headache, blurred vision, depressed mood, feeling nervous or irritable… I stopped myself again. I licked over my lips, returning my eyes to my reflection. Shimmery-ness glistened on my cheeks and there’s redness around my face. Suddenly frustrated, I yanked at my cheeks and scrubbed, making my skin feel fiery and biting with irritation.
I thought about the small conversation with Stiles. I pursed my lips, instinctively looking towards my still buzzing phone, and I straightened my posture. I shook off his desperateness. My head leant back on the soft side of my bed, shutting my eyes as I calmed down from my subtle high. I managed to somewhat calm down myself, soothing all the fighting emotions within me. A sad sigh breathed past my lips, my aunt’s words rehearsing themselves inside my head.
“It’ll get better.”
I hit my head against the mattress, my hands went to ball into fists as I felt a tightening knot itself in my stomach. A burning anger, a relentless one, coursed through me, and it took an ounce of pure self-control to keep myself from lashing out. A softer, but deeper feeling surfaced through the inky blackness of my anger, one that made my eyes feel glossy again. I hated both. I bit back my lips almost painfully hard, and I tuned in my ears to listen to my surroundings, finding yet another anchor when I heard the vibrating notification of a text message come from the same spastic boy I had been in previous conflict with earlier. I gulped, pressing my head against my mattress.
Lithium-ion battery inventor introduces new technology for fast-charging, noncombustible batteries
A team of engineers led by 94-year-old John Goodenough, professor in the Cockrell School of Engineering at The University of Texas at Austin and co-inventor of the lithium-ion battery, has developed the first all-solid-state battery cells that could lead to safer, faster-charging, longer-lasting rechargeable batteries for handheld mobile devices, electric cars and stationary energy storage.
Goodenough’s latest breakthrough, completed with Cockrell School senior research fellow Maria Helena Braga, is a low-cost all-solid-state battery that is noncombustible and has a long cycle life (battery life) with a high volumetric energy density and fast rates of charge and discharge. The engineers describe their new technology in a recent paper published in the journal Energy & Environmental Science.
“Cost, safety, energy density, rates of charge and discharge and cycle life are critical for battery-driven cars to be more widely adopted. We believe our discovery solves many of the problems that are inherent in today’s batteries,” Goodenough said.
It was all going so well, Percy thinks despairingly as he digs through the snow. Vex is on her knees beside him, lips bitten red to keep herself from laughing. He can’t have botched it too badly if Vex is more amused than exasperated with him, but still, there’s something inherently wrong here. Percy should be the only one on his knees here, but of course he dropped the fucking ring. This is why Percy just shouldn’t plan things out - his plans always end up getting turned on their heads. This morning had been lovely, waking up together as usual, with an empty day of relaxation ahead of them. Vex hadn’t seemed to suspect anything when Percy suggested they take a walk together. Cassandra hadn’t tracked him down with any unexpected tasks that needed completing. He’d managed to say everything he meant to say, the cold seeping into him where he’d gone down on one knee. Percy was even fairly certain Vex was going to say yes, and then his stupid shaking hands had betrayed him. The ring - made in his workshop months ago, white gold with two sapphires on either side of a tastefully large diamond - had fallen from his fingers almost as if in slow motion. Percy heard Vex inhale a gasp as it fell, the bright little circle disappearing instantly into the snow. “Oh fuck me,” Percy muttered in the second before panic truly hit. And now, here they are, the pair of them shuffling numb fingers through the snow, looking for an engagement ring. Perhaps it’s a sign. “Percy.” His head lifts as if pulled up at Vex’s voice. Pink cheeked in the cold and smiling more widely than Percy has seen in a while, Vex doesn’t look nearly as upset as he thinks would be fair. “Even if we can’t find it -” “We’ll get Keyleth out here to- to melt the snow or something. I’ll find it, I promise. It’s not magnetic, but…” “Percy,” she repeats, more firmly. He shuts his mouth, wincing, and that’s a very good idea, given Vex leans forward a second later to put her lips on his. It’s one of the better kisses Percy’s had, Vex pushing into him and humming a pleased noise, breaking away for just a moment to get a better angle for coaxing his mouth open. They’re both breathing a little more heavily when she backs away, letting Percy follow her as she leans back. Her fingers play over his lips a second, callused tips pressing into his bruise-sensitive lower lip as she smiles slow and adoring. “Let me finish,” she says, voice lowered to an intimate level. “Even if we can’t find the ring, my answer is yes. I just wanted to say, in case you were worried. Yes, Percy, I’ll marry you.” The tension releases from his chest as Percy nods a bit uncontrollably. “Still,” he says, more easily than he could have a moment ago. “I think we’d better find it if we can. Cassandra is rather expecting to base her reaction on whether or not you’re wearing it, you see.”
Anonymous: hi could i get exo’s reaction to their s/o being critically injured in car accident??
This is our first EXO reaction so we hope you guys like it!
Trigger Warning: Contains content about injury and possible death
Xiumin: Unlike the other members, Xiumin
would be enraged at the driver who caused you this harm. He’d be filled with
rage and sadness, but when he’d lay eyes on you, all his anger and sadness
intensified. He would be in despair knowing you
were in this much pain and angry that’s someone could do this. He’d sit next to
you ensuring that you everything will be fine and whoever did this to you will
be held responsible.
Luhan: Luhan would remain calm. He’d try his best to
have a strong composure for you because he knew crying wouldn’t help the
situation, nor help your injury. When the nurse finally allowed him to visit
you he’d simply sit next you till you woke up. He’d place a kiss on your
forehead and tell you that you were going to be okay and everything will get
Kris: Upon hearing the news of
your accident Kris would remain calm as opposed to the other members. He knew
that hysterical crying and moping wouldn’t help your critical state, so he
would patiently wait for any word from the doctors and nurses. Eventually, when
Kris would finally see you in your critical state, he’d break down in tears.
He’d hate seeing you like this so he’d remain by your side for hours waiting until
you’d wake up.
Suho: When Suho got the call that you had been in a critical accident, he would be beyond heartbroken. He would stop whatever he was doing (whether it being in the middle of dance practice or about to go on stage) and rush to the hospital to be by your side. He would want to know every single detail of how it happened, who was involved, and what state you were in. Suho would be really emotional but would try to stay strong just for you.
Lay: Lay would be anxious to know if you were okay. He would try to be calm as he wouldn’t want to think of the worst. When he would get to the hospital, he would insist on seeing you. If he was denied the request, he would beg the nurses to at least tell him the condition that you were in. When he found out about your injuries, he would feel heartbroken and fall back into a seat. He would constantly be reassuring himself that everything will be alright, and the fact that you were alive and breathing right now was all that mattered.
Baekhyun: As Baekhyun would receive the news, he’d be in
utter and complete shock. It will take
him a while to register what he’d heard and ask numerously “are you sure
it’s (Y/N)?!” When he’d arrive the
ER, he would listen to the doctors discussing your injury and would
automatically think the worse. Baekhyun would break down in the waiting room
and plead to the doctors to see you could just to see if you were alright.
Chen: Chen would be saddened to hear what happened to you. He would hope that you were okay and nothing was too serious. He wouldn’t cry or breakdown as he would want to be strong for you. He wouldn’t want to worry the other members either, so he would leave without causing too much commotion. Chen would wait for however long it would take for any updates and when a nurse appeared in his sight, he would stand up waiting for any good news. Chen would ultimately pray that you were okay and would stay by your side for as long as he could.
Chanyeol: Chanyeol wouldn’t believe it. He would go to the hospital immediately, keeping all his emotions bottled up. During the car ride there, he would pray that you were okay and your injuries were only minor. When he got to the hospital and the nurse told him what had happened, Chanyeol would feel his heart stop. He would get a little angry at himself, but his anger would soon turn into sadness, causing him to breakdown, praying that you will be okay.
D.O: D.O would be in shock when he got the call. He wouldn’t think it was real and it would take some time for him to process the unfortunate news. As time went on, D.O. would become sadder and eventually angry. He would be angry at everyone involved in the car crash, and he would even be angry at himself. He would scream and shout due to all his anger, thinking “if only I was there,” or ways that he could have prevented it.
(^ I couldn’t find an angry gif of him smh sorry)
Tao: As soon as Tao heard your name and the word accident come up in the same sentence, he would start crying. Tao would immediately think of the worst case scenario which would cause him to become even sadder. He would go to the hospital questioning every single person in sight, including patients, to where you were and if you were okay. After he finally gathered himself up to see you, he would walk into your room holding his breath. However, when he saw you and the state you were in, he would breakdown again. He would stay by your side the whole time with your hand in his as he constantly assuring you that everything will be alright.
Kai: Kai would be confused and
unsure of what to do. He would be filled with mixed emotions such as anger,
sadness, and regret. He would want to visit you right away to make sure that
you were alright. He would want to be by
your side, knowing that you needed him. If Kai wasn’t allowed to visit you, he
would stay in the waiting room with his hyungs
by his side for support.
Sehun: At around midnight, when Sehun received news of
your accident, he would become devastated and worried. He would gather his hyungs and rush to the hospital as fast as he
could. Sehun and a couple of the members would wait for any news about your
state. However as time went on, Sehun
grew all the more anxious. Eventually, Sehun would break down in his Hyung’s
arms hoping you’d be alright.
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