#Skid-Resistance
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Aluminium 6082 Chequered Plates: Strength, Versatility, and Applications
Aluminium 6082 chequered plates, also known as tread plates or diamond plates, are renowned for their strength, lightweight nature, and corrosion resistance. This blog explores the properties, applications, and benefits of Aluminium 6082 chequered plates, emphasizing their importance in construction, transportation, and manufacturing sectors.
Properties of Aluminium 6082 Chequered Plates
Aluminium 6082 chequered plates offer several key properties that make them suitable for diverse applications:
High Strength: Provides excellent structural integrity and load-bearing capacity, ideal for heavy-duty applications.
Lightweight: Aluminium's low density makes 6082 chequered plates easy to handle and install, reducing overall structural weight.
Corrosion Resistance: Resistant to corrosion and weathering, ensuring durability in outdoor and marine environments.
Skid-Resistance: Patterned surface design enhances grip and reduces slipping, making them ideal for flooring and stair treads.
Machinability: Easy to fabricate and machine, allowing for precise cutting and shaping in manufacturing processes.
Recyclability: Fully recyclable without loss of properties, supporting sustainability efforts in construction and manufacturing.
Applications of Aluminium 6082 Chequered Plates
Aluminium 6082 chequered plates find extensive use across various industries and applications:
Transportation: Used in truck beds, trailers, and marine vessels for their durability and skid-resistant properties.
Construction: Ideal for flooring, stair treads, and walkways in commercial buildings, industrial facilities, and outdoor structures.
Manufacturing: Utilized as protective and decorative elements in machinery, equipment, and architectural applications.
Decorative Purposes: Applied in interior design and architectural projects for their aesthetic appeal and functional benefits.
Safety Applications: Employed in industrial settings and public spaces to enhance safety by reducing the risk of slips and falls.
Benefits of Aluminium 6082 Chequered Plates
Aluminium 6082 chequered plates offer several advantages, making them a preferred choice in various applications:
Enhanced Safety: Provides a secure, non-slip surface, improving safety in high-traffic areas and industrial environments.
Longevity: Resistant to corrosion, abrasion, and wear, ensuring extended service life with minimal maintenance.
Versatility: Available in different patterns, thicknesses, and sizes to suit specific application requirements.
Cost-Effectiveness: Lower installation and maintenance costs compared to alternative materials, contributing to overall project savings.
Environmental Sustainability: Fully recyclable and energy-efficient during production, supporting green building initiatives.
Conclusion
Aluminium 6082 chequered plates are essential in industries where safety, durability, and aesthetics are paramount. Their unique patterned surface and robust properties make them versatile for various applications in transportation, construction, manufacturing, and decorative uses. Understanding the properties and benefits of Aluminium 6082 chequered plates underscores their significance in enhancing safety, efficiency, and sustainability across diverse sectors.
#Aluminium 6082 Chequered Plates#Tread Plates#Diamond Plates#Skid-Resistance#Construction Applications#Transportation Industry
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Man I like this au x2
This is the first time in months I can draw without a time limit of one hour per day and with a pen instead of my finger/mouse and I think it shows because the anatomy looks less rushed and I actually took the time to draw hands, plus the quality remains mostly intact as there's no re-sends You can also tell I like Kevin and Bob, which is funny because I dislike original Bob a lot
Anyways the au belongs to @zleepysnails, some of these characters belong to @jacenotjason and I'm gonna go hide under a rock because I hate tagging people see you all tomorrow
Close up of the colored ones because Iâm proud of how they turned out
Fun fact Bob's one comes from a hispanic ytp(h) about Donkey Kong, still one of the few ytph that aged well
#Opposite Gregor reminds me of one of my coordinators on my confirmation class#Difference is the coordinator was actually balding and ironically was a lot younger#On the other hand Lulu said Nar looked like Wally and I had to resist the temptation of drawing him like Wally#Lila and Bob continue to give me annoying spoiled young sister and miserable and unblinking older brother vibes#spooky month#spooky month opposite au#spooky month au#spooky month skid#opposite skid#spooky month pump#opposite pump#spooky month lila#opposite lila#spooky month ignacio#opposite ignacio#spooky month kevin#opposite kevin#opposite father gregor#spooky month father gregor#spooky month streber#opposite streber#spooky month ethan#opposite ethan#spooky month bob#opposite bob#spooky month robert#opposite robert#spooky month rick#opposite rick#spooky month mayor evermore
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Day 392
Star Pearl!!! How fitting!! much skykid potential to be had lmao
#daily pearl doodles#pearlescentmoon#new life smp#mod morph#i couldnt resist lol#i added the cape she has in my skid design for her haha
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Room 814 vs Room 512 ended a little differently than planned.
or
Bob is a very caring roommate.
(Bidh falbh (ye) mosgĂŹoto mĂČr) basically means go away (you) big mosquito in Scottish. I like Scottish Skids.
#i couldn't resist a little tomfoolery#i thought about an epic fight scene but then i thought#BOB#transformers#macadam#macaddam#rodimus#rodimus' room rumble#rodimus prime#fortress maximus#fort max#sunstreaker#sunny#bluestreak#skids#lost light#mtmte#idw#tf idw1#bob the insecticon
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I have more MTMTE sillies for you.
whirl lounging
there are no words for this panel
happy pride month everybody <3
we stan simpatico in this household (also why is there just an abyss behind percy's aiming reticule)
"holy shit nautica -you have friends?"
the fact that nightbeat is just inexplicably more fit than a literal special ops agent will never not be funny to me
"yes yes good job my child"
atomizer is busting it down (âïŸăźïŸ)â
#transformers#transformers idw#transformers mtmte#zefposting#shitpost#comic captures#transformers whirl#transformers getaway#transformers skids#transformers chromedome#transformers rewind#transformers perceptor#transformers brainstorm#transformers nightbeat#transformers senator shockwave#transformers atomizer#it was so hard to resist putting a million nightbeats in here
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i've started watching 9-1-1 and i think they really missed a trick with not including a "where are they now" montage at the end of each episode.
did the lady whose face half fell off get her face back? did the man who got inflated by a tire nozzle in his ass successfully deflate?? will we ever know what happened to diego and the shark??? I MUST KNOW
#9-1-1#911 show#i wasn't going to watch it at all#but then the kiss happened on an episode where someone glued herself to a driveway#and i cannot resist that#what happened to her?#WE'LL NEVER KNOW I GUESS#also yes i see why people ship buddie they're adorable#but i am here for the cold opens and the middle bits where men skid off their bikes and into sewers#or where women get their heads stuck in tailpipes
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The FNF corruption mod could never happen in SM because we all know in our hearts that, no matter what, Skid would end up being fucking fine
#he resisted eyes#he resisted the piper in the ost vid#he'd be good in that#he could get touched my a corrupted person and just stand like '':D'' while nothing happens to him#spooky month#skid and pump#skid#sm skid#tw swearing#tw cursing#fnf#friday night funkin
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Skids having a good time on the beach
#Skids shenanigans#Yea I saw this blorblo and did resist to buy him#Nothing bad ever happened to Skids#He's living a good life#delusional#mtmte#transformers toys#Toyfoolery
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#Skid Resistant Paper Packaging Market Size#Skid Resistant Paper Packaging Market Share#Skid Resistant Paper Packaging Market Growth#Skid Resistant Paper Packaging Market Trends#Skid Resistant Paper Packaging Market Players
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At Guoda, we take pride in delivering innovative solutions that cater to the unique needs of various industries. Our product line includes the Anti-Static Anti-Skidding Mat, Grid Anti-Skidding Table Mat, and the Wear Resistant Anti-Static Anti-Skidding Table Mat. These mats are designed to provide exceptional advantages and performance in work environments where electrostatic discharge (ESD) protection and skid resistance are paramount.
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Ballet shoes made from high-quality elasticated canvas uppers. The shoes feature resistance split soles to make it more stable and fitted on your feet when dancing as well as allowing it to be easily put on and removed. The shoes are wear-resistant and skid-resistant to prevent wrestling and are suitable for ballet dance, jazz, gymnastics, yoga, modern dance, ballroom dance and dance training.
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Case shot 6 Critical project successfully executed for ISO 9001 Certified - Millenium's shipbuilding yard under the Ministry of Ports, Shipping, and Waterways (Defence Sector).
#oil flushing#frf#minimac systems#oil & gas#hydraulic oil#hydraulic oil filter#contamination#minimac#power#lube oil filter#oil filtration machine#oil purification machine#lube oil#chemical cleaning#filtration skid#filter replacement#oil filter#condition monitioring#lvdh#fire resistance fluid
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ââ àšà§ !ăCAR CRASH
matt sturniolo x reader
SUMMARY: Where an amazing date night leads to a devastating car accident, leaving Y/N severely injured and Matt hospitalized and feeling extremely guilt.
WARNING: Car crash, blood, gore (nothing too extreme), mentions of surgery and death.
REQUESTED?: Yes, by an anon.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
ăăăàŒ»âŠàŒș ăàŒ»â§àŒșăàŒ»âŠàŒș
The night had been perfect. The kind of night that made Matt wish he could bottle up every second and live it over and over again. As they cruised down the road, Y/Nâs laughter filled the car, bubbling up with a joy that made his heart swell. He stole a quick glance at her, unable to resist the smile tugging at his lips as he watched her eyes crinkle at the corners.
It was all almost too serene. The road was deserted, stretching ahead like a long, winding ribbon through the dense forest. Trees lined both sides, their dark silhouettes swaying gently in the cool breeze. The glow from the dashboard lights bathed Mattâs face in a soft blue hue, highlighting the way his jaw clenched whenever he concentrated on the road.
Mattâs hand rested gently on Y/Nâs thigh, fingers intertwined with hers. The music in the background was just soft enough to allow their conversation to drift through the air. Their fingers were laced together like they had been for years, her thumb softly brushing over the back of his hand in a way that always sent a thrill through him.
"You know." Y/N started, turning to look at him with that familiar, teasing sparkle in her eyes. "I still canât believe you almost choked on that dessert tonight."
He rolled his eyes, shaking his head.
"Hey, those strawberries were huge, okay? Itâs not my fault they didnât fit in my mouth." Matt chuckled, his voice low and slightly raspy as he lifted her hand to press a soft kiss to her knuckles.
"Sure, thatâs what she said." She quipped, sending a playful wink towards the brunette.
His laughter echoed through the car, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
"Hey, babe, we should-"
But before he could finish his sentence, Y/N's heart jumped to her throat as she noticed something.
"Matt!" Y/Nâs scream pierced the air like needles.
Mattâs heart seized, his veins flooded with pure adrenaline. The world seemed to slow down, the seconds stretching into infinity as he turned his eyes from Y/N to the approaching car. It was swerving uncontrollably, zigzagging across the two-lane road, headlights blinding and erratic.
Panic gripped him like a vice. His instincts kicked in, hands flying to the steering wheel as he yanked it to the right with all his strength, desperate to avoid a head-on collision. The tires screamed in protest, the smell of burning rubber filling the car as the vehicle veered off the asphalt, gravel spraying against the undercarriage like bullets.
The seatbelt bit into his chest, and Matt let out a guttural grunt as the force of the swerve tried to rip him sideways.
"Hold on!" He shouted, the words raw and choked with fear.
But there was no time to process, no time to think. In the chaos, Mattâs vision narrowed to a tunnel. He could barely make out the blur of trees and darkness as the car skidded off the road. The other car blazed past them, its horn blaring like a scream of rage, disappearing into the night as if it had never been there.
Mattâs heart hammered in his chest, every beat like a drum of dread. He tried to correct the carâs course, but it seemed to be impossible with the velocity of it, and the steering wheel slipped under his frantic grip. The headlights illuminated nothing but shadows and thick trees ahead, and before he could even register what was happening, the world exploded into chaos.
The impact was instant. The front of the car crumpled like a tin can as it collided with the tree, the force of the crash sending them both jolting forward. Y/Nâs scream was cut short as her side of the car bore the brunt of the crash, the airbags exploding around them in a cloud of powder.
Everything went black.
ăăăăăàŒ»ïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄàŒș
A few seconds - or maybe minutes, Matt couldnât tell - passed before he came to. The first thing he noticed was the sharp, metallic taste of blood in his mouth, his head throbbing like it was being split open. His vision was blurred, darkness and flashing colors swirling together as he tried to blink them away.
"Y/N..." He croaked, his voice barely a whisper. Panic seized his chest like a vice grip as he turned his head, trying to see her through the haze. "Y/N!"
She was slumped against her seat, her head tilted unnaturally to the side, blood smeared across her forehead where sheâd hit the window.
"No, no, no, no!" Mattâs voice came out in a broken sob as he reached for her, his hands trembling violently. Pain shot through his ribs with every movement, but he ignored it, his vision blurred with tears. "Y/N! Wake up, please, wake up!"
But she didnât move.
"C'mon, please. Please- fucking shit!"
He could barely breathe, his chest tightening as though an invisible hand was crushing his lungs. Warm blood trickled down his temple, but he barely noticed it. All he could focus on was Y/N, slumped lifelessly beside him.
"What do I do? What do I do?" His bloody hands flew to his head, smearing it all around his skin. "An ambulance, I need-need to call an ambulance."
His trembling fingers fumbled with his phone, hands slick with blood and sweat, and his vision blurred with tears. He couldnât think straight; everything was a whirlpool of noise, pain, and terror. As he finally managed to dial 911, he searched for Y/N hand, squeezing the cold, unmoving member, his other hand shaking so hard it almost dropped the phone.
"911, what's your emergency?"
Matt could hardly get the words out, his throat so tight it felt like he was being strangled.
"We-we've been in an accident! Oh god, please- please help us! I... I donât know what to do!"
His voice was a broken sob, the words tumbling out in a chaotic rush, barely coherent. He was gasping for breath, panic clawing at him with icy fingers. He kept glancing at Y/N, hoping, praying that she would suddenly move or blink or give any sign that she was okay. But she was too still, her face shining with blood, eyes closed, and her chest...
He couldn't even tell if it was moving.
"Okay, sir, I need you to try to stay calm. Where are you? Can you give me your location?"
Mattâs mind was spinning, the world around him a dark blur. He tried to remember where they were, but it was like every thought was slipping through his fingers.
"Uh- I, I donât know! Somewhere near... near Elm and... I think weâre by a park or something. Thereâs glass everywhere, and- she's not... sheâs not waking up!"
As he spoke, Mattâs voice cracked again, his words coming out in choked sobs. His free hand kept shaking Y/Nâs shoulder, trying to rouse her, to pull her back to him.
"Alright, Iâve got your location. Help is on the way. Sir, I need you to focus for a moment. Is anyone else in the car with you?"
Mattâs voice broke into a desperate wail.
"Yes, yes, itâs my girlfriend. She-sheâs not moving! I tried to wake her, but... but sheâs just lying there, and sheâs bleeding. Oh god, thereâs so much blood!"
He couldnât stop his crying, his entire body shaking as if he were freezing. Maybe he was.
"Okay, I understand. Help is on its way, I promise. But I need you to check if sheâs breathing. Can you see if sheâs taking any breaths?"
Matt let out a strangled noise, almost animalistic, as he leaned back to try to see. His hands were unsteady and he wiped furiously at his eyes to clear his vision. He leaned closer to her, straining to see if her chest was rising, but everything was too dark and chaotic.
"I-I canât tell! Iâm trying, but sheâs not moving! Please, just help her!" His voice rose to a scream at the end, cracking under the weight of his despair.
"We're doing everything we can, sir. Youâre doing great, okay? Just stay with me. Take a deep breath. I need you to look at her chest. Is it rising and falling, even a little?"
Matt tried. He really tried. But all he could see was blood. Blood on her eyes, her lips, her collarbone. He could barely make out her features through the darkness and the horror of what was happening.
"I donât know, I donât know!" He cried, his voice breaking into another sob. "Itâs too dark, and her hair- thereâs so much blood on her face. Iâm scared to move her, I donât want to hurt her more! Y/N, baby, come on. Please, donât leave me." He begged, his voice raw with desperation.
He reached for his own seatbelt, fingers fumbling as he tried to undo the latch, but it was jammed. Tears blurred his vision constantly, frustration and fear boiling over as he yanked at it, the metal digging into his palms.
When the seatbelt finally gave way, he turned his attention back to her face.
"Iâm here, Iâm here." He whispered, pressing frantic kisses to her forehead, ignoring the cold of her skin and the taste of blood hitting his tongue. "Iâm not leaving you, okay? Just stay with me."
"Youâre doing the right thing by staying with her, sir." Their voice made him remember that he was still with the call on-going. "Just keep talking to her, alright? I know itâs hard, but you need to stay calm for her. Whatâs her name?"
Her name. God, her name was everything. It was the first thing he thought of when he woke up and the last thing on his mind before he fell asleep. He let out a shuddering breath.
"Y/N... Her nameâs Y/N." He whispered, his voice raw. He cradled her face with his free hand, gently brushing the blood-streaked strands of hair away. "Sheâs so cold. Why is she so cold?"
"Y/N is going to be okay, sir. Weâre sending an ambulance to you right now. I need you to tell me: are you hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?"
Mattâs mind was short-circuiting, the edges of his vision tinged with black spots. But he couldnât focus on himself. He couldnât care less if he was bleeding or broken.
"N-No, Iâm fine. Itâs just her. She-she hit her head so hard." His voice broke into a whisper at the end, as if saying it too loudly would make it more real.
"I understand. But you might not realize youâre hurt because of the adrenaline. Can you check if youâre bleeding or if you feel any pain?"
Mattâs eyes darted frantically between his phone and Y/N. He couldnât think about himself, couldnât even process what they were asking.
"I told you, Iâm fine!" He screamed into the phone, his voice cracking with a desperate fury. "Iâm fine! Itâs Y/N! Just... please save her! Sheâs... sheâs everything. I canât-" His words broke off into a series of harsh, broken sobs.
"I hear you, and I promise we're doing everything we can. Help is almost there, okay?"
Matt nodded frantically, even though they couldnât see him. He clung to Y/Nâs hand like a lifeline, pressing it to his lips, whispering her name over and over.
"Please, baby, stay with me... Please. Youâre so strong. You can get through this. Just keep breathing for me, okay? Please..."
Outside, the wailing sirens grew louder, the red and blue lights flashing through the shattered windows of the car.
"Please... donât leave me." He whispered one last time, the sound of his door being ripped open sounding muffled before the darkness around him finally swallowed him whole.
The last thing he felt was Y/Nâs cold hand slipping from his grasp as the world went dark.
ăăăăăàŒ»ïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄàŒș
A slow, rhythmic beeping was the first thing Matt became aware of as he drifted back into consciousness. His eyelids were heavy, as if weighed down by invisible anchors, and when he finally managed to pry them open, his vision was blurred, everything around him a hazy mix of white and blue. The smell of antiseptic stung his nostrils, making his head spin, and the low hum of machinery filled the air.
Matt blinked, trying to clear the fog from his mind. The room was dim, a soft light glowing from a corner lamp, casting long shadows across the pale walls.
There was an IV taped to his arm, the clear tube connected to a bag hanging from a metal pole beside the bed. His body felt like it had been crushed, every breath sending a dull throb through his ribs.
It hurt to move, but he turned his head slowly, trying to get his bearings. Thatâs when he noticed the figure slumped in an uncomfortable-looking position on a small armchair near the bed.
Chris.
His brother was fast asleep, his face drawn with exhaustion, dark circles etched beneath his eyes. The armchair seemed to have been pushed so close to the bed that it almost touched it, like Chris had wanted to stay as close to him as possible.
Mattâs mind was sluggish, like wading through thick mud. He couldn't remember how heâd ended up here. Why was he in a hospital? What had happened?
As he lay there, trying to piece together the fragments of his memory, a flash of vivid color cut through the fog like a lightning bolt; Y/Nâs face, pale and covered in blood, slumped in the seat next to him.
The memory hit him like a truck, and suddenly everything came rushing back at once: the crash, the panic, the desperate phone call. Y/Nâs lifeless body beside him.
"Y/N!" The name ripped out of his throat, raw and broken.
Adrenaline flooded his veins, pushing away the pain as panic seized him. He tried to sit up, ignoring the sharp agony that shot through his side and the dizziness that made his head sway. The only thought in his mind was finding her, making sure she was okay. He had to see her. He had to know if she was still-
His hands scrambled at the IV taped to his arm, trying to yank it free.
"No, no, no... C'mon, I need to find her!" He gasped, his voice frantic and uneven. His vision blurred with tears, anxiety closing in like a vice around his chest.
Chris woke with a sudden start, his eyes snapping open. For a split second, he was disoriented, but then he saw Matt struggling on the bed, clawing at the IV line.
"Matt! Hey, stop. Stop!" Chris practically leaped from the couch, crossing the short distance to his brother in a heartbeat.
Matt barely registered Chrisâs presence.
"Let go of me! I need to find her!" His voice was wild, a desperate, guttural scream. He shoved at Chris with what little strength he had, the effort sending another stab of pain through his ribs, but he didnât care. All that mattered was Y/N. She was out there somewhere, alone, hurt. He had to get to her.
Chrisâs heart twisted painfully at the sight of his brother in such a state. He grabbed Mattâs hands, trying to stop him from tearing the IV out.
"Matt, listen to me! You need to calm down!" His voice was steady, but there was an edge of panic in it, fear for both Mattâs physical and mental state.
He pushed the call button for the doctor frantically, knowing they needed help, now.
Matt was beyond reason. He was sobbing, his voice breaking as he shouted like crazy.
"Get off me, Chris! Please, I have to find her! Y/N- where is she? Whereâs Y/N?!" He thrashed against Chrisâs grip, raw terror coursing through him. His mind was a whirlwind of worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last.
Chris used every ounce of strength he had to pin Mattâs hands down against the bed, his fingers digging into Mattâs wrists. He leaned in close, his face inches from Mattâs, forcing him to make eye contact.
"Matt, you need to stop!" He shouted, his voice cracking. "Listen to me, please! Nick is with her, and theyâre taking care of her! You have to stay here and let them help you, okay? Youâre hurt, too!"
But it was like Matt couldnât even hear him.
"No, no, no! Sheâs not okay, she wasnât moving! I need to see her, Chris! Let me go!" His screams were hoarse, filled with a raw, primal agony that tore at Chrisâs heart.
Before Chris could say anything else, the door burst open, and a doctor, along with two nurses, rushed in, their expressions tense and focused.
"Whatâs going on?" The doctor demanded as she approached the bed, her gaze flicking between the brothers.
"Heâs trying to rip the IV out." Chris said breathlessly, his voice shaking. "Please, he wonât calm down!"
The doctor nodded sharply, gesturing to one of the nurses.
"We need to sedate him before he injures himself further."
"No!" Matt screamed, thrashing even harder against Chrisâs grip. "Donât you dare! I need to find Y/N!" His voice was broken, desperate, his eyes wide and filled with terror.
Chris's hands tightened around Mattâs, holding him down as the nurse prepared a syringe. Tears streamed down Mattâs face, his breaths coming in ragged gasps.
He was looking at Chris with an expression so lost, so utterly heartbroken, it nearly broke Chris, too.
"Matt, listen to me." Chris pleaded, his own voice breaking. "Sheâs going to be okay. But youâre going to hurt yourself if you donât stop. I promise, I promise Iâll take you to her as soon as they say itâs okay. But you have to calm down, okay? Please, Matt..."
Mattâs eyes were wild, searching Chrisâs for any sign of a lie, any hint that he was just trying to placate him. But Chrisâs face was so full of anguish, so full of love and sincerity, that Mattâs resolve wavered for a moment.
The nurse took advantage of that brief second of hesitation, quickly inserting the needle into Mattâs IV line. Within seconds, the sedative began to take effect. Mattâs thrashing slowed, his screams dying down to broken sobs as the world around him began to blur again.
"No... Chris, please... It was my fault... Y/N..." Mattâs voice was barely a whisper now, his eyelids drooping as the drug pulled him under. The last thing he saw was Chrisâs tear-streaked face, mouthing something he couldnât quite hear before the darkness swallowed him whole.
ăăăăăàŒ»ïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄïčĄàŒș
The darkness that had pulled Matt under before slowly began to recede, but this time, it was different. Darkness enveloped him in a terrifying nightmare, pulling him under like the tide dragging him out to sea.
He was back in the car. The smell of gasoline and blood was suffocating, the crunch of broken glass grinding beneath his legs as he struggled to move. Y/N was next to him, her face ghostly pale, her eyes closed, blood streaming down her forehead and pooling beneath her. Her body lay limp, lifeless against the car seat, and no matter how many times he screamed her name, she didn't stir.
"... Y/N, please! Wake up!" Mattâs voice was raw, his throat burning with the force of his screams. He shook her shoulder frantically, his fingers slick with blood. "No, no, no... please, Y/N, donât do this to me!" But she remained still, her head slumped to the side, blood trickling down her delicate features.
The world around him was spinning, the sound of sirens in the distance growing louder, yet somehow they never seemed to get closer. His breaths were short, and frantic gasps as he clutched at Y/N, his tears falling onto her lifeless body.
"God, no! Please!" He was breaking, unraveling, his heart tearing apart as he held her close, praying for a miracle that wouldnât come.
"Matt!"
The voice was distant at first, barely cutting through the thick haze of his panic. But it grew louder, more urgent, like a beacon trying to pierce through the storm in his mind.
"Matt! Come on, wake up!"
But Matt couldnât make sense of it. His eyes were still glued to Y/Nâs lifeless form, his hands desperately trying to stop the flow of blood, his heart shattering with each second that passed. The voice was there again, louder this time, sounding so familiar, so achingly real.
"Matt, itâs okay. You're safe. Matt, listen to me!"
The scene in front of him wavered, flickering like a glitch in a broken film reel. The wrecked car, the blood, Y/Nâs unmoving body; all of it seemed to blur, like someone was tearing the nightmare apart at its seams. Matt blinked, his vision shifting between the nightmare and something else. A figure - blurred, indistinct - hovered above him. He could hear that voice again, so much clearer now, so desperate and familiar.
"Y/N?" Mattâs voice was a hoarse whisper, his eyes darting around frantically. But his mind was still caught between the nightmare and reality. He could feel Y/Nâs cold body beneath his fingers, could see her blood staining his hands. "No, please! Donât let her die! God, please, donât take her from me!" His voice broke into anguished sobs, raw and heart-wrenching, as he pleaded into the darkness.
The figure above him froze, and then, in an instant, arms wrapped around him. Matt was pulled into a tight embrace, warmth pressing against his trembling body.
"Hey, hey, itâs okay. Iâm here. Matt, itâs me. Youâre safe." Chrisâs voice was thick with emotion, his own tears spilling as he held Matt close.
The youngest dropped to his knees beside the hospital bed, leaning over Mattâs shaking form, one arm cradling the back of his head as he tried to bring him back from the brink.
"Shhh, itâs okay, Matt. Y/N is okay. I promise you, sheâs alive. It was just a nightmare." Chris whispered desperately into Mattâs ear, his grip tightening when he felt his brotherâs body shake with gut-wrenching sobs. He rocked them both slightly, his own chest heaving as he tried to keep it together for Mattâs sake. "Iâve got you, alright? Iâm right here. Sheâs okay. I swear."
But Matt couldnât process the words. His mind was still stuck in that twisted nightmare, where Y/N was cold and still beneath his hands, where heâd failed to protect her.
"No, no... I have to get to her." He choked out, struggling weakly in Chrisâs arms. "I canât lose her... I canât..."
"Matt." Chris said more firmly, his voice breaking. He pulled back just enough to look Matt in the eyes, his hands cupping Mattâs face, thumbs brushing away the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Listen to me. Youâre not in the car anymore. Youâre in the hospital. Y/N is okay. Sheâs being taken care of. Sheâs safe."
Chrisâs words were slowly, agonizingly, starting to sink in. Mattâs sobs grew softer, his breaths still ragged and uneven, but the desperate thrashing stopped. He could feel the warmth of Chrisâs body, the steady pressure of his hands holding him down, grounding him in the present. The nightmare was slipping away, reality clawing its way back into his consciousness.
Mattâs fingers, which had been gripping Chrisâs shirt with bruising force, gradually loosened. He blinked, his vision clearing enough to see the hospital room around him. The blinding lights, the beeping machines, the sterile scent, all of it slowly registered, pulling him further away from the nightmareâs grip.
"Chris...?" Mattâs voice was small, broken, like a lost child. His wide, tear-filled eyes searched Chrisâs, looking for confirmation that this wasnât another twisted dream.
"Yes, itâs me." Chris whispered, his forehead pressing against Mattâs. "Youâre safe. Iâve got you."
Matt collapsed into Chrisâs arms, his body going limp with exhaustion. The adrenaline that had kept him going drained away, leaving him weak and trembling. He buried his face in Chrisâs shoulder, his hands clutching at his brotherâs back like a lifeline.
"I thought... I thought I lost her..." He sobbed, his voice muffled and choked. "I couldnât... I canât lose her, Chris..."
"I know, I know." Chris murmured, tears streaming down his own face as he held his brother tighter, laying his cheek above his head. "But sheâs alive. Sheâs okay. And youâre okay. Weâre all here, Matt. Youâre safe."
Slowly, so slowly, Mattâs sobs began to quiet. His breathing evened out, but that only brought the pain to control. Each breath sent a jolt through his bruised ribs. His head throbbed, the pain pulsing behind his eyes, and his skin was clammy with cold sweat. He shivered, his body exhausted and aching, but he let himself lean into Chrisâs embrace, the warmth of his brotherâs presence keeping him grounded.
Chris continued to murmur soothing words, his hands rubbing circles on Mattâs shoulder, trying to calm the tremors that still wracked his brotherâs body.
"Youâre okay, Matt. Youâre safe. Iâve got you."
Matt let out a shaky breath, his body finally beginning to relax, the nightmare fading further into the recesses of his mind, the steady rhythm of Chrisâs heartbeat against his ear helping to calm the storm inside him.
For the first time since waking, Matt felt like he could breathe again. He was still in pain, his body battered and broken, but Chrisâs comforting presence kept him anchored, keeping him from slipping back into that dark abyss.
"Can... can you call me the doctor?" Matt whispered hoarsely, his voice barely audible.
"Are you feeling pain?" Chris asked worriedly, receiving a small nod as an answer. "Okay."
Chris brushed back the damp hair on Matt's forehead while pressing his free hand against the red button.
"Chris." Matt croaked out again. "Y/N... how is she?"
His younger brother's face crumpled, and he let out a shaky breath. He looked away for a moment, trying to collect himself before turning back to Matt.
"She... she was in surgery." He said quietly, every word seeming to cost him. "Nick told me... she had internal bleeding, and they had to go in to stop it. She hit her head super hard, too. But... the surgery went well. Sheâs stable now and probably still asleep."
Mattâs heart shattered at those words, a cold, sick feeling twisting in his stomach. Internal bleeding. Surgery. Y/N had gone through so much, and it was all because he couldnât control his own damn car. If he had just been paying attention... He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms as he struggled to hold back the tears.
"Can I... can I maybe see her?" He asked, his voice so small, so broken, it almost didnât sound like his own.
Chris stared at him for long seconds, his eyes searching Mattâs face, like he was trying to read the thoughts swirling in his mind. And maybe he could see it. Maybe he could sense the guilt that was eating Matt alive. But Chris didnât press him. Instead, he sighed heavily, searching for his hands and stopping him from hurting himself further.
"The doctor is the one who has to let you." He whispered, biting his bottom lip hard. "You know... I was really scared, Matt. I thought... I thought I was going to lose you forever."
Matt watched the pain swimming inside Chris's blue eyes.
"Iâm sorry, Chris." He muttered, his voice cracking. "Iâm really sorry for scaring you. You and Nick."
Chris looked down at him, his eyes shining with tears, and shook his head.
"No, Matt... no, itâs not your fault." He said, his voice fierce despite the tears. "I just... Iâm just so glad youâre here. That youâre alive."
Matt swallowed hard, his throat tight. He didnât deserve Chrisâs relief, not when Y/N was still out there, hurt because of him.
Before he could say anything else, the sound of the door creaking open echoed, and a doctor stepped in, clipboard in hand. Behind her were two nurses, ready to assist with whatever was needed.
Dr. Patel, a middle-aged woman with gentle eyes, gave Matt a small, reassuring smile as she approached his bedside.
"Good to see you awake and calmer, Mr. Sturniolo. How are you feeling?" She asked, her tone soft yet businesslike.
Matt swallowed, his throat dry and raw from the crying.
"I... Iâm in pain." He admitted hoarsely, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Everywhere."
Chris squeezed his hand reassuringly before turning to the doctor.
"Is there something more you can give him for the pain?" Chris asked, his voice thick with concern.
Dr. Patel nodded, her expression turning more serious as she flipped through the pages on her clipboard.
"Weâve been managing his pain with a mild dosage to avoid any complications, but given that he's more conscious now, we can adjust his medication." She gestured to one of the nurses, who immediately set about preparing a new injection.
Mattâs eyes fluttered closed for a moment as he tried to focus on breathing through the pain. Each inhale felt like it was slicing through his ribs, the weight of his guilt and worry making it even harder to catch his breath.
"Doctor, can... can I see her? Y/N, I mean... please." He pleaded, reopening his eyes before looking at her.
Dr. Patel paused, her gaze softening as she looked at him.
"Letâs take care of your pain first, Matt." She said kindly, her voice a steady anchor in the chaos. "I promise, as soon as you are stable enough, weâll let you see her."
The nurse approached with the syringe, and Matt turned his head away, too drained to watch as she injected the painkiller into his IV. Moments later, a cooling sensation spread through his veins, slowly dulling the sharp edges of his agony, but it did nothing to ease the turmoil inside him.
As the medication began to work, Mattâs eyelids grew heavier, but he fought against the sleep that threatened to pull him under.
"I'm fine now... please." He begged, his voice wavering. "I'm fine, I need to see her. I... I have to make sure that sheâs okay." His breath came in shallow, slow gasps, and his eyes darted to Chris, silently pleading for help.
Chris stepped forward, placing a calming hand on Mattâs shoulder.
"Hey, hey." He whispered, trying to soothe his brother. "Let the doctor decide if you're stable enough, okay? I promise youâll see her soon."
Matt shook his head stubbornly, the panic still clawing at his chest.
"I promise that I'm feeling okay now, m-my pain is gone." His words sounded slurred, his eyes blinking slowly while trying to keep himself awake, looking at the doctor with determination.
Dr. Patelâs face softened as she listened to Mattâs broken pleas. The room was quiet for a minute, save for the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor. She glanced at Chris, who was holding his brotherâs shoulder tightly, as if trying to anchor him to the present moment.
"Please... I have to see her." He whispered again, the words more of a gasp now. "I just... I need to know sheâs really okay."
The doctor sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. She understood his desperation, his need to see Y/N with his own eyes. It was a common reaction, patients often believed that seeing their loved ones would somehow confirm their survival would make it more real. And judging by the fear and panic still etched into Mattâs face, this was something he desperately needed.
Dr. Patel turned to the nurse beside her, exchanging a brief, silent conversation before she turned back to the brothers.
"Alright." She said finally, her tone gentle but firm. "We can take you to her room, Matt... but only if youâre in a wheelchair. Youâre still recovering yourself, and moving around too much could set back your progress."
Chrisâs head whipped toward the doctor, a glimmer of hope lighting up his tired eyes.
"Wait... you mean... he can see her?"
"Yes, but only for a few minutes." Dr. Patel clarified. "And he must stay seated. Weâll have to monitor him closely."
Mattâs entire body seemed to sag in relief at her words. He would have agreed to any condition at that moment if it meant seeing Y/N, even if it was just for a second.
"Yes... yes, please. Iâll stay in the wheelchair. I promise." He breathed, the frantic edge to his voice slowly easing into something softer, more hopeful.
Chris nodded gratefully at the doctor, his eyes glassy with unshed tears.
"Thank you." He whispered, his voice thick. He turned to Matt, squeezing his brotherâs shoulder. "Okay, Matt... just breathe, alright? Weâre gonna see her."
The nurse quickly wheeled in a padded, adjustable wheelchair. Chris helped Matt shift carefully from the hospital bed into the seat, wincing with every grimace of pain that crossed Mattâs face. Matt tried to hide it, but his stiff movements and shallow breaths were enough to betray just how much he was still hurting. Once seated, Matt clutched the arms of the chair with white knuckles, willing his trembling legs to steady.
Chris crouched in front of him, locking eyes with Matt.
"Are you sure youâre good to go?" Chris asked softly, his voice laced with concern. "If you start to feel worse, we can turn back, okay?"
"No." Matt said quickly, shaking his head even though the motion made him dizzy. "I need to see her, Chris. I wonât... I canât rest until I know sheâs a-alive." His voice was nothing more than a hoarse whisper now, but it carried a weight that cut Chris to his core.
The small entourage - Matt, Chris, the doctor, and a nurse - began their slow journey down the fluorescent-lit corridor. The sterile scent of antiseptic filled the air, and the occasional sound of distant monitors and hushed conversations drifted from other rooms. Chris stayed beside the wheelchair, his hand on Mattâs shoulder the whole time, a steadying presence as they moved.
Mattâs heart was a wild drum in his chest, each turn of the hallway only ratcheting up his anxiety. He felt like he was caught in a nightmare that he couldnât wake up from, the fear that he might find Y/N still and lifeless on a hospital bed eating away at him.
Finally, they stopped outside a door marked with Y/Nâs name on a small placard. Dr. Patel turned to Matt, giving him one last assessing look.
"Remember, just a few minutes." She reminded him gently. "Sheâs stable but still heavily sedated. It might be a while before she wakes up."
Matt nodded, barely hearing her as his eyes locked on the door. Chris leaned down to give his shoulder one last reassuring squeeze before opening it. The soft creak of the door seemed to echo through Mattâs mind, the sound like a gunshot in the quiet hallway.
As they wheeled him inside, Mattâs breath hitched. There she was, his Y/N, lying so still in the bed, surrounded by machines that beeped and hummed softly, tubes and wires connected to her fragile form. Her face was pale, bandaged in places, and her chest rose and fell in the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. But she was breathing. She was alive.
Before his eyes could drink in every detail of her condition, his attention was pulled to another figure in the room.
Nick.
Nickâs head shot up at the sound of the door, his eyes widening in surprise. Relief washed over his face, softening the lines of exhaustion and worry that had been etched there. He looked like he hadnât slept in days, his hair disheveled, eyes red-rimmed.
"Matt." Nick breathed, his voice trembling with emotion.
He quickly crossed the room in a few long strides, his eyes scanning his brotherâs face like he couldnât quite believe he was awake and here in front of him. Without a word, he dropped to his knees beside the wheelchair, wrapping his arms around Matt in a tight, desperate hug.
"Oh God, Matt." Nickâs voice cracked as he held on tight, as though letting go would make this moment disappear. "I thought we lost you... I thought..."
Matt weakly lifted one arm, patting his brotherâs back as best as he could manage.
"Iâm okay." He whispered hoarsely, though the pain in his body begged to differ. "Iâm here, Nick... Iâm here."
Nick pulled back, his eyes shining with tears, but he quickly wiped them away with the back of his hand.
"You have no idea how scared we were, Matt... but God, Iâm so glad youâre awake."
Chris, standing close by, put a comforting hand on Nickâs shoulder, giving him a small, reassuring squeeze.
"Heâs okay, Nick. Weâre okay." Chris murmured, nodding assuredly.
The doctor and nurse patiently waited for the brothers to have their moment before gently nudging the wheelchair forward.
"Letâs get you closer to her, Matt." Dr. Patel said softly.
As they wheeled Matt to Y/Nâs bedside, all the noise of the hospital seemed to fade away. All he could hear was the soft, steady beep of the machines monitoring her vitals.
Mattâs eyes welled up with tears as he took in her pale face, the bruises peeking out from under the bandages on her forehead and the soft rise and fall of her chest.
He reached out with a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against hers. Her skin was cool to the touch, and a sob tore through him. Without hesitation, he leaned forward, bringing her hand to his lips. He kissed her knuckles softly, over and over again, his lips lingering on every bruise and scrape he could see.
"Iâm so sorry." He whispered, his voice raw with anguish. "Iâm so, so sorry, my love. Please... please forgive me. I love you so much, Y/N. I need you. You have to wake up soon. Please."
He kept pressing gentle kisses to her hand, his tears slipping down and wetting her skin. His heart ached in ways he never thought possible, the guilt eating him alive. This was his fault. If only he had been more careful...
Nick watched silently, his own eyes filled with tears, and Chris had to turn away for a moment, pressing a fist to his mouth to stifle a sob. The sight of their brother - usually so composed - completely broken over the woman he loved was almost too much to bear.
Finally, Mattâs strength gave out. His body, already weakened and worn from the medication, was quickly reaching its limit. He slowly leaned forward, resting his head gently on the edge of Y/Nâs bed, his cheek pressed close to her hip. He stayed there, clinging to her like she was his lifeline, his breaths coming in soft gasps as he struggled to stay conscious.
"Iâm here, Y/N... Iâm right here." He whispered, his voice barely more than a breath. "I wonât leave you... I promise."
The pain was slowly fading, his body seeming to finally allow the medication to work its way through his system. Mattâs eyes grew heavier, his body sagging with exhaustion. But he didnât want to sleep. He wanted to stay with her, to watch over her, to be there when she finally opened her eyes.
Dr. Patel watched him with a soft, sympathetic gaze. She could see how much this was costing him, but she also understood that this was what he needed.
"Weâll let him stay for a little longer." She said quietly to Chris and Nick, who both nodded gratefully. "But you must agree that, if anything changes, if he starts showing signs of distress, you call for me immediately.â
"We will." Chris promised, his voice low and earnest. Nick nodded in agreement, his eyes never leaving Matt.
With that, the doctor and nurse quietly exited the room, leaving the three brothers alone with Y/N. The room was dim and quiet. The only sound was the soft beeping of the monitors and the occasional muffled sniffle from Nick or Chris.
Matt finally let the exhaustion pull him under, his breathing evening out as he drifted into a fitful sleep. His fingers were still wrapped loosely around Y/Nâs hand, and his head rested against her side as if he could protect her even in his sleep.
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Several hours passed in quiet vigil. Chris and Nick stayed sat on the small couch by the wall, watching over Matt and Y/N like silent guardians, their hearts heavy with worry but relieved that, for now, their family was still holding on.
As the soft light of dawn began to creep through the tiny window in Y/Nâs room, there was a faint stirring.
The world around her was a hazy blur, everything out of focus and spinning, like she was caught in a dream she couldnât quite wake up from. There were distant beeps and muffled voices, but they all seemed so far away, like she was listening from underwater.
A faint, familiar smell flooded her nose. Matt. Or is it Nick? It was something like strawberries or maybe coconut. She couldnât tell, but it was comforting enough. She tried to move, to lift her heavy eyelids, but her entire body felt like it was weighed down by an invisible force.
After what felt like an eternity, Y/N finally managed to blink her eyes open, the harsh bright lights above her making her squint. The ceiling was white and sterile, and as her vision adjusted, she could make out the faint sounds of machines beeping rhythmically around her. Her mind was foggy, like a thick cloud had settled over her thoughts, and it took her a moment to realize where she was.
A hospital. She could feel something tight around her ribs, a dull, throbbing pain in her head, and an odd numbness throughout her limbs that made it difficult to move. Her throat was dry, like sandpaper, and when she tried to swallow, it sent a sharp ache down to her chest.
Panic started to bubble up in her chest, her heart rate quickening as fragmented memories began to resurface - the blaring headlights, the screech of tires, and the sudden, jarring impact that had stolen her breath away. She let out a small, pained whine, her chest tightening as she tried to remember more, but it was all so blurry, so confusing.
A voice cut through the haze, it sounded quiet but rough, like it had been scraped raw.
"Y/N? Hey, itâs okay... youâre okay."
She turned her head slowly, every movement feeling like she was wading through thick mud. The face that came into focus was familiar, a face that brought her the feeling of home amidst the confusion.
Nick.
Y/Nâs eyes blinked slowly, struggling to focus on the two faces in front of her. She was still groggy, the world around her hazy, but the concerned expressions of Chris and Nick gradually came into focus. Her brows furrowed slightly, confusion clouding her tired gaze.
"N-Nick...? Chris...?" She mumbled, her voice rough and barely audible. Her throat was parched, every word scraping against the dryness.
Nick let out a shaky laugh, tears gathering in his eyes.
"Oh my god, I was so... I'm so glad you're back." He whispered, his voice breaking with a mixture of relief and emotion. He stepped closer, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face.
Chris nodded, his face lighting up with the first real smile in what felt like an eternity.
"Weâve been really worried about you, Y/N." He murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Youâre a fighter, you know that?"
Y/N tried to smile, but even that felt like lifting a mountain.
"What... what happened?" She asked, her voice weak, her words slurred from the medication and anesthesia coursing through her veins. "I... I remember the crash. I remember..." She trailed off as she recalled the moment of impact, the way everything had gone black in an instant. "It all happened so fast."
Nickâs eyes filled with tears, and he traveled his hand from her hair to her shoulder, squeezing the covered skin tightly.
"It was... it was really bad. But you are here now, okay? You made it through the surgery. Youâre safe."
"Surgery?" The word sent a chill down her spine. She tried to remember, but everything after the crash was a blur. "What... what happened to me?" She asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Nick took a shaky breath, his grip on her tightening as if he needed the contact to ground himself before connecting his eyes with Chris's, begging for him to answer her.
"You had internal bleeding caused by some broken ribs." Chris explained gently, cleaning his throat to disguise the emotion in his voice. "Youâve been out for at least 15 hours after a four-hour surgery. And... and you hit your head really hard. But the doctors said the surgery was a success, and your concussion is mild. Youâre going to be okay."
Y/N let out a shaky breath, the reality of it all crashing down on her. Surgery. Internal bleeding. The thought of how close sheâd come to... She couldnât finish the thought, the fear overwhelming her.
"Where... whereâs Matt? Is he okay? Oh god, he was driving-"
Chrisâs eyes softened, and he exchanged a glance with Nick.
"Heâs right here, Y/N." Chris reassured her gently, pointing towards Matt's figure with his head.
Y/Nâs gaze flickered downward, and her breath hitched when she finally registered for the first time Matt slumped over on the edge of her hospital bed, his head resting beside her hip. His brown hair was disheveled, and his face looked paler than she had ever seen, decorated with a variety of bruises and cuts, but he was breathing, his chest rising and falling steadily.
It was then that she noticed the weight of his fingers against hers, holding her hand firmly as if she could disappear at any moment.
"Heâs been by your side from the minute he woke up..."
The sound of the boy's voice, combined with the familiar touch of his girlfriend, pulled Matt from the depths of his medication-induced sleep. His eyelids fluttered, a groggy groan escaping his lips as he slowly stirred awake. For a moment, he looked confused, his eyes unfocused as he blinked against the harsh lights.
But then, as his gaze settled on Y/Nâs face, now wide awake and staring back at him with teary eyes, everything clicked into place. His heart leaped in his chest, and any remaining fog of sleep vanished instantly.
"Y/N?" He croaked, his voice raw with disbelief. His eyes widened as he looked at her, truly seeing her awake for the first time. "Oh my god... youâre... you're awake."
Y/N managed a weak smile, tears gathering in her eyes as well.
"Hey, baby. I'm here." She whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "You look like youâve been through hell."
Matt let out a choked laugh, a mix of relief and joy bubbling up inside him. He quickly pulled himself closer to her, his hands shaking as he reached for her face, brushing his thumb tenderly over her bruised cheek.
"I thought... I thought I had lost you." He confessed, his voice breaking. "God, Y/N, I was so scared. I... I couldnât-" His words were cut off by a sob he couldnât contain, and he buried his face in her neck, pressing desperate kisses to her exposed skin, his curls tickling her chin in a grounding way.
Y/Nâs heart ached at the sight and feeling of him so broken. With what little strength she had, she squeezed his fingers, trying to comfort him.
"Iâm here, Matt." She whispered. "Weâre okay. You donât have to worry anymore."
Matt shook his head, his tears soaking her neck.
"Iâm so, so sorry." He choked out between sobs. "Iâm so sorry, Y/N. I shouldâve protected you... I couldn't even-"
Y/Nâs brows knitted together in confusion as she tried to process his words. She lifted a trembling hand to stroke his messy hair, trying to calm him down.
"Matt, baby, hey... where's this coming from?" She asked, her voice soft and full of concern as her eyes traveled momentarily to Chris and Nick, searching for an answer in them that they didnât seem to have.
Matt just kept shaking his head, his sobs growing louder, muffled by her skin.
"Itâs my fault... itâs all my fault." He whispered, his voice breaking. "I shouldâve seen the car... I shouldâve done something... God, you wouldnât be here if it werenât for me. I'm really, really sorry..."
Y/Nâs confusion turned to anger as she realized what he was saying.
"Matt, look at me." She demanded, her voice suddenly stronger despite her weakened state.
He slowly lifted his tear-streaked face from her shoulder to meet her gaze momentarily, his eyes red and puffy.
"How can you blame yourself?" She asked, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You... Matt, there was nothing you couldâve done. A crazy driver was coming to our direction. You didnât cause this."
"But... but I shouldâve seen it sooner. I shouldâve done more." Matt insisted, his voice cracking terribly. He couldnât meet her eyes for more than a second, ashamed of the guilt that had consumed him. "You got hurt because of me... I should be the one lying in there, not you."
"Don't you dare say something like that, Matthew." Y/N said firmly, her fingers gripping his hand as tightly as she could manage. "Listen to me. It was not your fault. There was nothing you could have done to stop it." She let out a shaky breath, her eyes softening as her free hand traveled to his face, softly brushing away the tears from his cheeks. "Iâm okay, Matt... because of you. You were there. You kept me safe until help came."
Her words only made Mattâs tears flow harder, dripping directly where her fingers met his skin, his sobs causing his body to tremble and his ribs to ache, but there was a shift in his eyes, a flicker of something like relief. He didnât fully believe her, but hearing her say it, seeing the sincerity in her expression, it was like a balm to his raw, bleeding heart.
"You did everything you could, baby. You saved my life. If it wasnât for you..." Y/N couldnât even finish the sentence; the thought was too painful to bear. To lose a life with the love of her existence.
Matt sniffled, pressing the side of his face against her palm and wiping the other side of it with the back of his hand, still holding on to Y/N like she was the only thing keeping him afloat.
Nick and Chris watched the whole scene unfold in silence, their hearts heavy with the raw emotions in the room. Chris discreetly wiped away a tear while Nick stood there, his arms crossed over his chest as if trying to hold himself together.
"I love you so much." Matt whispered, nuzzling against her hand. "I can't even picture a life without you."
"I love you too, Matt." Y/N murmured back, her fingers weakly squeezing his. "But you donât have to picture anything. Iâm right here."
Matt let out a shaky breath, nodding.
"Now, why don't the both of you rest a little bit more?" Nick's voice seemed to remind them of the brother's presence. "It will do good for your healing process." Y/N's eyes lifted to the oldest momentarily before nodding slowly.
As the room settled into a comfortable silence, Matt gently laid his head back down on the bed, still holding Y/Nâs hand as if it was his lifeline. Y/N stroked his hair softly, her heart aching with love and relief.
For the first time in what felt like forever, they could finally breathe. They were together, alive, and that was all that mattered.
#chris sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt stuniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo x yn#matt sturniolo x y/n#matt sturniolo x you#matt sturniolo x reader fanfic#matt sturniolo x reader fluff#matt sturniolo x reader angst#matt sturniolo angst#matt sturniolo oneshot#angst#fluff#chris sturniolo angst#nick sturniolo angst#nick sturniolo x bff reader#chris sturniolo x bff reader#hurt!reader#hurt!matt#sick!fic#matthew bernard sturniolo#matthew sturniolo x reader#matthew sturniolo
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green-eyed monster | s.r.
in which Spencer comforts your oldest daughter when she's jealous of the new addition to the family
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: jealousy, newborn baby, not proofread, i might be missing something word count: 1.48k a/n: girl dad spencer!!! everyone cheered!!!!
Spencer carefully shut the bedroom door behind him, cringing when he heard the door latch, hoping it didnât wake you or the baby. Getting her to sleep last night had been a struggle, leaving her with two very sleep-deprived parents, but seeing as you were the one who had been feeding the newborn, Spencer did his best to let you catch up on sleep.
Not only did you need to rest, but heâd been the one to give your elder daughter dolls to play with this morning, and that distraction would only work for so long. Sure enough, there were little feet running down the hallway, nearly colliding with Spencerâs legs as she skidded to a halt. âMama,â she gasped, out of breath from running.
âHey, lovey,â Spencer whispered, holding a finger to his lips, âMamaâs sleeping.â He tried to herd her downstairs to fix her something for lunch.
She tried to slip between his legs to get to the door, but before she reached the doorknob, he swiftly scooped her up and set her on his hip, âNooooo,â she whined, trying to climb out of his grasp and reach out for the bedroom door again. âMama,â she called again, her little nose crinkling as tears well in her eyes.
Leah went limp in his arms as she realized that he wasnât going to be bringing her to see you anytime soon. âOh,â Spencer cooed as he hoisted her up, resting her head on his chest, each tear that sept through his t-shirt breaking his heart. âHoney, mamaâs asleep, we can see her later,â he tried to assure her, but sometimes reasoning with a toddler was a miserable waste of time.
âThe sun is awake, so Mama can be awake,â she insisted, huffing as Spencer set her down at the breakfast bar so he could start filtering through the meal options. Penelope had set up a meal train to help out, and he eyed the Tupperware in the fridge and wondered if chicken nuggets were going to be a better option.
Pulling out the freezer drawer, Spencer grabbed the bag of frozen nuggets and set them on the counter before preheating the oven. âMama and Lacy were awake with the moon last night, so they need a little extra time away from the sun,â Spencer explained, rounding the counter so he could stand next to Leah.
He rested his hip against the marble countertop, reaching a hand out and smoothing back her curls. He found himself wishing he had a hair tie with him to pull the wispy strands from her face. âLacyâs stupid,â Leah mumbled, resting her face in her hands and pouting.
Spencer leaned over the counter, resting his palm on the cool stone and taking a deep breath, âWe donât say stupid.â
âBut I did,â she countered, furrowing her brows and crossing her arms in front of her chest. Everyone had warned you about the shift from one kid to two, but you hadnât had enough insight about how to handle the jealousy from the older child.
He couldnât blame her; sheâd been the only child for years before you introduced a second baby into the mix. Not to mention, sheâs only three, and her understanding of babies is limited at best. âDo you remember when Mama and I told you that the new baby needs extra help? Itâs âcause sheâs so little.â
Leah grumbled something indiscernible under her breath. The baby had been exciting for her when she got to tag along to doctorsâ appointments and help paint the nursery, but ever since the two of them met in the hospital, Leahâs been almost hostile. âI want Mama,â she whispered, sticking out her bottom lip.
Spencer sighed defeatedly, âI know, lovey. Iâm sorry,â he resisted his urge to bring Leah to see you. He wanted to wipe the pout from her face but couldnât do it at the cost of waking you and Lacy up.
It wasnât as if she hadnât seen you in the week since you got home from the hospital, just last night, Spencer had volunteered to take Lacy while the two of you watched a movie in the master bedroomâyou both fell asleep watching Finding Nemo.
As he made sure Leah was taken care of, he worried that in the stress of preparing to become parents to two, he had neglected to take the time to prepare Leah to be a big sister. Youâd gotten her a bigger bed, complete with a princess canopy, and helped her learn how to play by herself, but none of that mattered if she felt like you didnât have time for her.
Quietly, Spencer brought Leah back upstairs, watching her carefully in case she tried to get to you, but she veered over to her bedroom instead and climbed up on her bed. Leaving the door open a crack, he laid down next to her on the bed. âWhy canât Mama play?â
âBecause Mama just had a baby, and that makes you sleepy and it hurts a lot, so we need to let her get rest,â he spoke gently, turning on his side so he could mind Leahâs reaction to his words. Sometimes he felt like you had a better time getting through to her. âIâm sure Mama will play with you again once she rests more.â
Leah huffed, âStupid Lacy.â She laid down on her back, crossing her arms in front of her chest.
Spencer propped his head up on his arm, âLeah,â he said, a slight warning in his tone, âDo you have kinder words to say about Lacy?â
She mumbled an answer, and he playfully poked at her side until she spoke up, âYou called her princess.â
Frowning, he scanned through his memory to recall calling Lacy princess. He had called her princess, one time in the hospital when the two girls first met. âDid it bother you that I used the same nickname for the baby that I use for you?â
The toddler nods softly, sinking further into the fluffy pillows on her bed.
âWill it be okay if I keep using the same nickname for you, Lacy, and mama?â Spencer asked, tenderly reaching out and sweeping some stray hairs from her forehead.
âNo,â she answered shortly.
Spencer hummed in response, âYou know, itâs a very important job to be the oldest princess.â Leah looked over at him curiously, his first baby. âSomeday, Lacyâs gonna need you instead of needing mama, and I need to know that I can trust you,â he continued.
Leahâs pout faded softly, âNeed me?â
Nodding, Spencer smiled softly, âUh huh, sheâll need her big sister.â
âOh,â she breathed, brown eyes going wide with recognition and curiosity.
âShe just needs to get a little bigger first, okay? You have to be patient,â Spencer reminded her of what was easily her least favorite task. That was only further emphasized by the way she scrunched up her nose at the mention of patience.
The two of them waited in silence while Leah seemingly processed the information that had been given to her, âDaddy?â
Spencer looked back up at her, âYes, princess?â
She shook her head dramatically, âMama canât be a princess,â she claimed.
He mightâve laughed, but the look on her face told him that she was dead serious, âOh? Why not?â
She sat up on the bed, crisscrossing her legs beneath her, curiously touching the tulle of her canopy, âIf sissy and I are princesses, then Mama has to be the queen.â
âYouâre right,â Spencer told her with the same confidence, âYour Mama is a queen.â
Giggling, Leah went back to lay down on the bed, the two of them sharing a suspicious look when the door to her bedroom creaked open, revealing you on the other side, âMama!â Leah called out excitedly, standing up on the bed, Spencer could see her physically restraining herself from jumping on the mattress, which was off limits.
Your tired eyes lit up as you walked into the room, handing Spencer Lacyâs baby monitor before laying down on the opposite side of the bed. âHi, lovey,â you greeted her, pressing a kiss to one of her soft cheeks.
âGuess what?â She asked, looking mischievously between her two parents.
Narrowing your eyes as you pretended to think about it, you smiled at your daughter, âHm, what?â
Leah beamed at you, âDaddy said youâre a queen!â
Your eyebrows shot up, pleasantly surprised by your toddlerâs secret, âOh, he did, did he?â
She nodded enthusiastically, âMhm, and sissy and I are princesses,â she proclaimed.
âSo, Princess Leah, what do you think of our castle then?â You asked her softly, tapping the tip of her nose and eliciting a fit of giggles from the three-year-old.
She furrowed her eyebrows, looking around her own bedroom critically before turning back to her parents, âIt could use more pink.â
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds fanfic#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fluff#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fic#criminal minds fic#spencer reid x fem!reader#written by margot#spencer reid dilf agenda
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Oscat
shifter!Oscar Piastri x Reader
Summary: when you see an adorable stray black cat hanging around your neighborhood, you canât resist taking him in ⊠but thereâs just one problem, the catâs not actually a cat
Oscar Piastri never thought his life would come to this â crouched under a battered kitchen chair in a cramped university flat, ears flattened against his skull, tail twitching nervously as he watches you fumble with a small red collar.
âHere, kitty, kitty,â you coo, your voice soft and coaxing. You wiggle your fingers, the sound of the collar's bell jingling faintly as you shake it. âI promise youâll look so cute in this.â
Oscar canât believe heâs let it get this far. One moment, heâs wandering the neighborhood as a cat, enjoying the freedom that comes with paws instead of feet, and the next â this. A crazy girl who somehow managed to corral him into her apartment and is now intent on ⊠he doesnât even know what. But he knows itâs not good. He considers bolting, but youâre blocking the only exit, and he isnât sure he has it in him to leap past you without causing a scene.
âCâmon, I know you like the tuna,â you say, holding up a plate with some leftover fish youâd put out for him earlier. âJust let me get this on you, and Iâll give you more, okay?â
He narrows his eyes, inching back under the chair. This whole situation is ridiculous, and heâs thoroughly regretting his decision to stick around after the first time you fed him. But there was something about you that drew him in â a warmth, maybe, or just the sheer determination with which you tried to get him to trust you.
But now youâve crossed a line.
You sigh, clearly frustrated, and sit back on your heels. âWhy are you being so difficult?â you murmur, more to yourself than to him. âI just want to make sure youâre safe, you know? What if you get lost or hurt? You need a collar, at least âŠâ
Oscarâs ears perk up at the concern in your voice, and he feels a pang of guilt. You donât know what youâre doing â how could you? To you, heâs just a stray cat, not a twenty-three-year-old Formula 1 driver with a secret he canât afford to let anyone find out. Heâs supposed to be smart, calculated, always one step ahead. Not cowering under a chair because a university student wants to play house with him.
You huff and toss the collar onto the table with a clatter. âFine,â you say, standing up and crossing your arms. âIâll leave you alone for now, but youâre not getting any more tuna unless you let me put that on you.â
Oscarâs stomach growls, and he curses his weakness. The tuna had been good â too good, if heâs being honest. He watches as you turn away, heading into another room. This is his chance. He could make a break for it, slip out the door before you even realize whatâs happening.
But he hesitates.
Why? He wonders, paws shifting restlessly. This isnât like him. He should be gone by now, back to the comfort of his flat, where he can shift back and pretend this whole mess never happened. Yet something keeps him rooted in place.
Then, he hears you talking to someone on the phone.
âYes, I found a stray,â you say, your voice echoing slightly through the walls. âHeâs so cute, but I donât know ⊠do you think I should take him to the vet? Get him checked out?â
Oscarâs blood runs cold. This is bad. This is really bad. He needs to get out â now.
You continue, âI was thinking maybe I could get him neutered too, you know? So he doesnât run off and get hurt or something ⊠â
He bolts from under the chair, skidding across the linoleum as he makes a beeline for the door. But before he can reach it, you step back into the room, phone pressed to your ear.
âWhoa, whoa!â You exclaim, dropping the phone onto the table as you rush to block his path. âWhere do you think youâre going?â
Oscar tries to dart around you, but youâre quicker than he anticipated, and heâs forced to leap onto the counter instead. He glares at you from his new perch, fur bristling in warning.
âDonât look at me like that,â you say, hands on your hips. âIâm just trying to help you.â
âYeah, help me lose my manhood,â Oscar mutters under his breath, though it comes out as an indignant hiss.
You frown, clearly not understanding his displeasure. âYouâre acting like Iâm torturing you or something,â you say, reaching out cautiously. âJust let me put the collar on, okay? Then Iâll leave you alone.â
Oscar swats at your hand, his claws barely grazing your skin. He doesnât want to hurt you â he just wants you to back off. This is getting too close for comfort.
You pull your hand back, eyes widening in surprise. âOkay, okay, no collar,â you say, trying to soothe him. âWeâll figure something else out.â
But Oscarâs had enough. He leaps from the counter to the windowsill, then down to the floor, and races towards the door again. This time, he manages to slip past you, his sleek black fur a blur as he darts through the narrow opening.
He hears you call after him, your voice tinged with worry, but he doesnât stop. He canât. He sprints down the hallway, paws pounding against the carpeted floor, until he reaches the stairwell. He takes the steps two at a time, his heart racing as he finally bursts out into the cool evening air.
Freedom.
He doesnât slow down until heâs a good block away from your building, his chest heaving as he ducks into the shadows of a nearby alley. Heâs safe. For now.
But then he hears it â your voice, faint but unmistakable, carried on the breeze as you step out of your apartment, searching for him.
âKitty?â You call, your voice trembling slightly. âWhere did you go?â
Oscar slinks further into the shadows, his heart twisting with guilt. He didnât mean to scare you, but he couldnât let you take him to the vet. He couldnât let you get too close. But now, as he listens to the sound of your footsteps growing fainter, he feels a pang of something he hasnât felt in a long time â regret.
âPlease come back,â you whisper, and he can hear the tears in your voice. âIâm sorry if I scared you. I just wanted to help âŠâ
Oscarâs resolve weakens, his tail flicking nervously as he peeks around the corner. He can see you standing there, arms wrapped around yourself as if trying to hold yourself together. You look so small, so vulnerable, and it tugs at something deep inside him.
He shouldnât care. Heâs not supposed to care. Heâs always kept his distance, never letting anyone get too close, especially not like this. But here you are, and for reasons he canât quite explain, he doesnât want to see you cry.
He takes a tentative step forward, but then stops himself. What can he do? Walk back into your life, let you put that collar on him, and risk everything? Or turn away, leave you behind, and never look back?
Youâre wiping at your eyes now, sniffling quietly. âIâm so stupid,â you mutter to yourself. âWhy did I think I could just ⊠ugh.â
Oscarâs ears droop. This is all wrong. He shouldnât be here. He shouldnât feel this way. But the sight of you, standing there alone, makes him want to go back, to do something, anything, to make you smile again.
Before he can make a decision, you give up and turn back towards the building, your shoulders slumped in defeat.
Oscar watches you go, every instinct telling him to stay hidden, to let you go. But as you disappear through the door, he finds himself inching forward, until heâs standing just outside the entrance, ears perked up, listening for any sign of you.
Maybe, just maybe, he thinks, this isnât over yet.
***
Oscar canât help it. He tells himself heâs just checking in, that itâs only temporary. But day after day, he finds himself outside your building, watching, waiting, listening.
It starts with a cautious glance through the window, his keen eyes picking out your silhouette as you move about your flat. The blinds are often drawn, but he can still see enough. Enough to know that somethingâs changed.
Youâre not yourself.
The first day after he ran away, he saw you sitting by the window, staring out into the distance, your face etched with worry. He tells himself itâs none of his business. That heâs done the right thing by leaving. But every time he turns to go, he finds his paws rooted to the spot, his gaze drawn back to you.
And then thereâs the phone calls.
Oscar doesnât mean to eavesdrop, but he canât help it when your voice carries through the thin walls of the apartment building. One day, heâs curled up on the windowsill of the flat next door when he hears you talking on the phone again, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness.
âI just donât understand,â you say, pacing back and forth. âHe was here one minute and then gone the next. Iâm so worried about him.â
Oscarâs ears perk up, guilt gnawing at him as he listens. Youâre talking about him, of course. He knows that. And the fact that youâre still thinking about him, still concerned for his well-being, makes him feel like the worldâs biggest jerk.
âHe looked healthy,â you continue, your voice shaking slightly. âBut what if something happened to him? What if he got hurt or ⊠or worse?â
He winces at the pain in your voice. He didnât want to scare you, didnât want to make you worry. But what choice did he have? Letting you take him to the vet would have exposed him â both literally and figuratively. He couldnât risk that.
âI read somewhere that stray cats have a lifespan of less than two years,â you say, your tone now laced with a mixture of fear and sadness. âI donât want that to happen to him. I just ⊠I just want him to be okay.â
Oscar closes his eyes, your words cutting deeper than any wound heâs ever felt. He doesnât want to be the cause of your pain. But what can he do?
Then, he hears it â the soft, broken sound of you crying.
Itâs like a punch to the gut. His ears flatten against his head, and he feels an overwhelming wave of guilt and shame. He doesnât like seeing you like this. No, thatâs not right â he hates it. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you, yet here you are, crying because of him.
He tries to walk away, to tell himself that itâs for the best, that youâll move on and forget about him eventually. But the sound of your sobs echoes in his ears, haunting him, and he knows he canât just leave it like this.
Maybe going back for a few hours wonât hurt anyone, he rationalizes, pacing back and forth in the alley. Heâll show up, let you see heâs okay, and then leave before things get too complicated. Simple.
But as he sits there, tail flicking with nervous energy, he realizes itâs not that simple. Because the truth is, he doesnât want to leave. Not really. Thereâs something about you that draws him in, something that makes him feel ⊠safe.
Wanted.
Needed.
And so, with a heavy sigh, he makes his decision. He waits until the sun sets, the shadows growing long and the streets quiet. Then, he slips through the narrow gap in the window that you always leave open, landing softly on the worn carpet of your living room.
You donât notice him at first. Youâre sitting on the couch, knees drawn up to your chest, your phone discarded on the cushion next to you. Youâre staring at the TV, but itâs clear youâre not really watching it. Your eyes are red, cheeks stained with tears, and Oscarâs heart clenches at the sight.
He takes a cautious step forward, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. He doesnât want to startle you, doesnât want to make things worse. But as he approaches, you suddenly turn your head, your eyes widening as they meet his.
âKitty?â You breathe, sitting up straight. For a moment, you just stare at him, as if you canât believe heâs real. Then, slowly, a smile breaks across your face, soft and relieved. âYou came back.â
Oscar doesnât move, watching you carefully, trying to gauge your reaction. When you donât make any sudden movements, he takes another step closer, his ears twitching nervously.
You wipe at your eyes, trying to compose yourself. âI thought Iâd lost you,â you say, your voice shaky but full of warmth. âWhere did you go?â
He doesnât answer, of course â he canât. But he does allow himself to move closer, until heâs standing right in front of you, his nose just inches from your outstretched hand.
âCan I ⊠â you ask, your hand hovering in the air, waiting for his permission.
Oscar hesitates for just a moment before he nuzzles against your palm, his fur brushing against your skin. It feels ⊠right, somehow. Comforting. He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch as you gently stroke his head, your fingers trailing down his back in soothing motions.
âYouâre okay,â you whisper, and Oscar can hear the relief in your voice. âI was so worried.â
Guilt twists in his chest again, but he pushes it aside. Heâs here now, and thatâs what matters. Heâll stay for a little while, just long enough to make sure youâre okay, too.
You sit back, still petting him, and Oscar takes the opportunity to hop up onto the couch beside you. He curls up next to you, resting his head on your leg, and for a moment, everything feels ⊠normal. Peaceful, even.
âYou must have been so scared,â you murmur, your voice soft as you continue to stroke his fur. âRunning away like that ⊠I donât blame you, though. I must have freaked you out with all that vet talk.â
Oscar doesnât react, but internally, heâs cursing himself. Of course youâre blaming yourself. Why wouldnât you? You have no idea who â or what â he really is. To you, heâs just a scared little stray cat who panicked and bolted at the first sign of trouble.
âBut Iâm not going to push you anymore,â you say, as if reading his thoughts. âI just want you to be safe. Thatâs all.â
The sincerity in your voice hits Oscar like a ton of bricks. He knows he shouldnât be here, knows heâs playing with fire by getting this close. But in this moment, he canât bring himself to care. Heâs missed this â missed you, even though he barely knows you.
You lean back against the couch, your hand still resting on his back, and Oscar feels a strange sense of contentment wash over him. Itâs been a long time since heâs felt this way â since heâs allowed himself to feel this way. And as much as he knows he should leave, he canât. Not yet.
He hears you yawn, the sound soft and tired, and he lifts his head to look up at you. Youâre fighting to keep your eyes open, your movements slow and drowsy. Itâs late, and he can see the exhaustion etched into your features.
âGuess we both had a long day,â you mumble, your hand coming to rest on the couch beside him as you settle back into the cushions. âI should probably get to bed.â
Oscar watches as you slowly push yourself up, stretching as you stand. He expects you to head to your bedroom, to leave him on the couch for the night. But instead, you glance down at him, a hesitant smile tugging at the corners of your lips.
âWanna come with me?â You ask, your voice soft and inviting.
He knows itâs a bad idea. He knows he should stay right where he is, let you go to bed, and slip out the window before morning comes. But the thought of leaving you alone, of returning to the cold, empty streets outside, makes his chest tighten with a loneliness he hasnât felt in years.
So, against his better judgment, he hops down from the couch and follows you down the short hallway to your bedroom.
You open the door, flicking on a small bedside lamp, and Oscar watches as you move around the room, pulling back the covers and fluffing up your pillows. He hesitates at the threshold, his instincts warring with the pull he feels toward you.
But then you turn to him, patting the space beside you on the bed, and heâs powerless to resist.
âCâmon, kitty,â you say, your voice warm and coaxing. âYou can sleep here tonight.â
He pads over to the bed, jumping up onto the soft mattress. Itâs warm, inviting, and before he knows it, heâs curled up next to you, your presence calming in a way he didnât think possible.
You slip under the covers, lying on your side, and Oscar snuggles closer, his body pressed against yours. He can feel your steady breathing, hear the soft rustle of the sheets as you settle in, and it lulls him into a sense of safety he hasnât felt in a long time.
âGoodnight,â you whisper, your voice already thick with sleep.
Oscar's eyes drift closed, his body warm and relaxed as he nestles against you. He knows he should be on high alert, ready to bolt at any moment, but for the first time in what feels like forever, he allows himself to let go. Just for tonight.
As you fall asleep beside him, your hand resting gently on his back, Oscar realizes heâs found something here â something he didnât know he was missing. He canât stay forever, but maybe, just maybe, he can stay a little longer.
Just for tonight.
***
Oscar wakes to the sound of a scream that nearly sends him bolting out of bed. His eyes fly open, his heart hammering in his chest, but the feeling that greets him isnât the familiar warmth of fur or the safe confines of a small, curled-up position.
Itâs a body â a human body.
His human body.
And beside him, youâre staring at him, your eyes wide with shock, your mouth open in mid-scream as you scramble to the edge of the bed, clutching the covers around you like a shield.
âWhat the â who the hell are you?â You shriek, your voice high-pitched and panicked.
Oscarâs brain stutters to catch up with whatâs happening. He glances down at himself, realizing with a jolt that heâs completely naked. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This isnât happening. How could he have been so careless? Heâs been shifting for years, but never like this. Never in front of someone. Never in such a vulnerable position.
âI-I can explain,â he stammers, his voice rough with sleep and panic. He grabs at the nearest pillow, pressing it to his lap in a desperate attempt to cover himself. âJust, um, donât freak out. Please.â
âExplain?â You repeat, your voice trembling as you blink rapidly, as if trying to wake up from a nightmare. âWhat the hell are you doing in my bed? And why are you ⊠why are you ⊠naked?â
Oscarâs mind races, the words tangling together in his head. Heâs supposed to be good under pressure â heâs faced down race cars at hundreds of kilometers per hour, for crying out loud. But right now, all he can think about is how utterly screwed he is.
âI-Iâm not a creep, I swear,â he blurts out, his face flushing with embarrassment. âI didnât mean to â this isnât what it looks like.â
Your eyes narrow, still full of fear and confusion, but also dawning recognition. You stare at him for a long moment, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps. Then, slowly, the pieces start to fall into place, and your expression shifts from terror to something else entirely.
âWait a minute,â you say, squinting at him. âI know you. Youâre ⊠Oscar Piastri?â
He winces at the sound of his name. âUh, yeah. Thatâs me.â
You gape at him, your mouth opening and closing as you struggle to find the words. âOscar Piastri is in my bed. Naked. And Iâm ⊠wait, am I still dreaming? Did I fall asleep watching Formula 1 highlights again?â
âNo, no, youâre not dreaming,â Oscar says quickly, shaking his head. âThis is real. But I promise, I can explain. Just ⊠can we, maybe, both take a breath for a second?â
You inhale sharply, clutching the covers tighter around yourself as you stare at him with a mixture of disbelief and confusion. âOkay,â you say, your voice shaky. âBreathing. Breathing is good. But you still owe me a pretty big explanation.â
Oscar nods, taking a deep breath himself to steady his racing thoughts. Heâs never had to explain this to anyone before, and now that heâs actually faced with the situation, he realizes just how insane itâs going to sound.
âOkay, so, uh âŠâ He rubs the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to start. âI know this is going to sound really weird, but ⊠you remember the cat? The one you were worried about?â
Your brow furrows in confusion, and you nod slowly. âYeah âŠâ
âWell,â Oscar continues, his voice trailing off for a moment before he forces himself to say it. âThat was me. I mean, I was the cat.â
You blink at him, clearly trying to process what he just said. âWait. Youâre saying ⊠youâre the cat? Like, you were the cat?â
âYeah,â Oscar says, wincing at how ridiculous it sounds out loud. âIâm, um, Iâm a shifter. I can turn into a black cat. And I was the cat that you, uh, accidentally ⊠kidnapped.â
You stare at him, your mouth hanging open as you try to wrap your head around this. âSo, youâre telling me that the cat Iâve been feeding, the cat that I tried to take to the vet, was actually you? The whole time?â
Oscar nods sheepishly. âYeah, thatâs right. I didnât mean for it to go this far. I was just ⊠curious, I guess. But then things got a little out of hand.â
You sit back on the bed, your mind clearly spinning as you try to reconcile the image of the cute, harmless black cat with the sight of Oscar Piastri â fully human and fully naked â in your bed. âThis is ⊠this is insane,â you say, shaking your head. âI mean, I believe you, I guess. But itâs just ⊠wow.â
âYeah, I know,â Oscar says, offering a small, awkward smile. âItâs a lot to take in. And Iâm really sorry for scaring you like that. I didnât mean to shift back. It usually doesnât happen unless I want it to, but I guess I mustâve just ⊠relaxed too much.â
You laugh, a short, incredulous sound. âRelaxed? You were relaxed enough to just shift back into a human? Wow, I must be really good company.â
Oscar chuckles nervously. âYou have no idea.â
Thereâs a moment of silence as you both try to process everything. Then, you look back at him, your expression softening slightly. âSo, youâre really ⊠a shifter? Like, thatâs a real thing?â
Oscar nods. âYeah. Iâve been able to do it since I was a kid. Itâs not something I talk about, obviously. Itâs kind of a secret.â
âA big secret,â you say, your eyes wide. âI mean, itâs not every day you find out an F1 driver can turn into a cat.â
Oscar blushes at that, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief that youâre taking this better than he expected. âYeah, itâs not exactly something I advertise. And, uh, Iâd really appreciate it if you could keep this between us.â
You nod quickly, your expression earnest. âOf course. I wouldnât tell anyone. I mean, who would believe me, anyway?â
Oscar lets out a breath he didnât realize he was holding. âThank you. Seriously. This whole thing ⊠itâs complicated, and I donât want to make things harder for myself or anyone else.â
You smile, a hint of playfulness returning to your eyes. âWell, I guess Iâm the last person whoâd have room to judge. I did kind of ⊠try to get you neutered.â
Oscar laughs, the tension in the room easing slightly. âYeah, that was ⊠a close call.â
You shake your head, still looking slightly overwhelmed but more at ease now. âIâm sorry for that, by the way. I had no idea.â
âItâs okay,â Oscar says, smiling. âIâm just glad I got out of there before it was too late.â
Thereâs another pause, the awkwardness slowly fading into something more comfortable. You glance over at the clock on your nightstand, and then back at him, your eyes narrowing slightly.
âSo,â you say, a teasing edge in your voice. âWhatâs the plan now? Are you just going to stay here or âŠâ
Oscarâs eyes widen as he remembers his current state of undress. âOh, uh, right. I should probably ⊠get dressed. Do you have, like, a blanket or something?â
You laugh, your initial shock giving way to amusement. âYeah, hold on.â You reach over to the chair by the bed, grabbing the throw blanket draped over it and tossing it to him. âHere. Cover up before I have to start charging you for the show.â
Oscar catches the blanket, wrapping it around himself as best as he can. âThanks. Sorry about that. Not exactly how I planned on spending my morning.â
You smile, still shaking your head in disbelief. âThis is definitely the weirdest morning of my life.â
âSame here,â Oscar admits, rubbing the back of his neck. âBut, uh, now that weâve got that out of the way ⊠do you maybe want to grab breakfast or something? With no canned tuna this time.â
You raise an eyebrow, the playful spark back in your eyes. âBreakfast? With a shifter who accidentally ended up naked in my bed? Sounds like the start of a weird romcom.â
Oscar grins, his nerves finally settling. âYeah, maybe. But, I mean, the offer still stands. We could ⊠talk more. Or not talk at all. Just ⊠eat?â
You pretend to consider it, tapping your chin thoughtfully. âHmm, I donât know. Iâve always been more of a Ferrari girlie. But I guess I can make an exception this once.â
Oscar chuckles, his heart lightening at your teasing tone. âWell, I appreciate that. Iâll try not to hold it against you.â
You laugh, standing up and stretching, the tension finally draining from the room. âOkay, then. Breakfast it is. But you owe me a proper explanation over pancakes. I still have a lot of questions.â
âDeal,â Oscar says, standing as well, the blanket still wrapped around him. âAnd, uh, maybe I can borrow some clothes? Just until I get back to my place.â
You smirk, clearly amused by his predicament. âSure. I think I have some sweatpants and a T-shirt that might fit you. Theyâre probably not papaya, though.â
Oscar laughs, feeling more at ease than he has in days. âThatâs fine by me. Iâm not picky.â
As you head off to find the clothes, Oscar takes a deep breath, letting the reality of the situation sink in. Itâs definitely not how he expected this to go, but somehow, it feels right. Like maybe this bizarre turn of events was exactly what he needed.
And as he watches you rummage through your dresser, he canât help but think that, for once, shifting back to his human form at the wrong time might have been the best mistake heâs ever made.
***
Oscar leaps onto the windowsill, his black fur sleek and gleaming in the afternoon light. He peers through the glass, watching you, seated at your desk, hunched over your textbooks. Your hair is pulled back, a pen held between your teeth as you jot down notes with a furrowed brow.
He feels a surge of affection watching you work so hard, but itâs mixed with a touch of mischief. Heâs been patient all day, but now heâs had enough. Itâs time for a study break, whether you want one or not.
With a graceful hop, he slips through the open window and lands silently on the floor. His tail flicks behind him as he pads softly toward you, his green eyes locked onto your focused expression. He almost feels guilty interrupting you â almost. But then again, itâs been hours since you last gave him any attention, and heâs starting to feel a bit neglected.
You donât notice him at first, too engrossed in whatever academic puzzle youâre trying to solve. But Oscar is nothing if not persistent. He jumps onto your desk, landing squarely on your notebook, and lets out a soft, insistent meow.
Your head jerks up in surprise, your eyes widening as you take in the sight of him. âOscar! You scared me!â
He purrs, rubbing his head against your arm, his way of saying, âSorry, but youâve been ignoring me.â
You sigh, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays your affection. âIâve got a lot to do, you know. Finals are coming up.â
Oscar meows again, louder this time, before nudging your hand with his head. He can feel you wavering, your resolve crumbling as you reach out to scratch behind his ears. His purring deepens, vibrating through his small frame as he leans into your touch.
âYouâre so spoiled,â you mutter, but thereâs no real annoyance in your voice. âYou know that, right?â
Oscar only purrs louder in response, nuzzling against your hand. He steps carefully onto your lap, circling once before settling down. You laugh softly, resigned, as you set your pen aside and lean back in your chair.
âAlright, alright. I guess I can take a break for a few minutes.â
He stretches out, making himself comfortable as you begin to pet him in earnest, your fingers trailing through his fur in long, slow strokes. Itâs blissful, the way you touch him, the warmth of your hand against his back.
All thoughts of studying fade from your mind as you focus entirely on him, and Oscar relishes every second of it. This is what heâs wanted all day â to be close to you, to feel your affection without any distractions.
Minutes pass, and your strokes become slower, more languid. Oscar watches you through half-lidded eyes, sensing your fatigue. The stress of studying, of exams, is catching up with you, and he knows how much youâve been pushing yourself lately. He nudges you with his head, encouraging you to relax even more, to let go of the tension thatâs been building up.
You yawn, a deep, sleepy sound that makes him purr in satisfaction. âI think youâre a bad influence on me, Oscar,â you murmur, your voice drowsy. âI should be studying, but all I want to do is cuddle with you.â
Oscarâs purring doesnât falter â if anything, it grows even more content. He watches as your eyelids grow heavier, your breathing slows, and your hand eventually stills against his fur. Youâre falling asleep, lulled by the gentle rhythm of petting him and the comfort of his presence.
He stays perfectly still, letting you drift off completely. You deserve the rest, he thinks. Youâve been working so hard, and a little nap wonât hurt. Besides, he likes being the reason youâre able to relax like this, to forget about your worries for a while.
When heâs certain youâre fully asleep, Oscar carefully extracts himself from your lap, moving with the quiet grace of a cat. He pads over to the couch, glancing back to make sure youâre still sleeping soundly. Then, in one fluid motion, he shifts back into his human form.
Oscar sighs softly, standing by the couch for a moment as he stretches his arms over his head. Itâs been a long day for him too â training, meetings, the usual demands of being a Formula 1 driver. But this is the part of his day he looks forward to the most: being with you, in this quiet, peaceful space that the two of you share.
He carefully lifts you from the chair, cradling you in his arms as he carries you to the couch. You stir slightly but donât wake, your head resting against his chest as he settles you down on the cushions. Oscar smiles, brushing a strand of hair from your face before he stretches out beside you, pulling you close.
He wraps an arm around you, your body fitting perfectly against his. Thereâs something indescribably comforting about holding you like this, feeling your warmth seep into him as you sleep. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, closing his eyes as he allows himself to relax fully for the first time all day.
The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you, entwined on the couch. Oscar can hear your steady breathing, feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest against his. Itâs moments like this that make everything worth it â the races, the pressure, the endless travel. None of it compares to this simple, quiet happiness.
As he holds you, Oscarâs thoughts drift. He thinks about how much his life has changed since that day you found him in your bed, how unexpected it all was. He hadnât planned on letting anyone in, on sharing his secret with someone else. But you ⊠youâve become so much more than he ever anticipated.
Youâre his confidant, his partner, his best friend. And though heâs still getting used to the idea, youâre also the person heâs fallen in love with, slowly and completely. Itâs a realization that both scares and excites him, because heâs never had something â or someone â this important before. Racing has always been his focus, but now, youâre a part of his life that he canât imagine being without.
As you sleep in his arms, Oscar tightens his hold on you, a protective instinct kicking in. Heâll do anything to keep you safe, to make sure youâre happy. And if that means taking any opportunity to spend more time with you, to be there for you when you need him, then thatâs what heâll do.
You murmur something in your sleep, your body shifting slightly against his. Oscarâs heart swells with affection, and he kisses your forehead again, a silent promise that heâll always be here for you.
Outside, the sun begins to set, casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The world keeps turning, the demands of life waiting just outside the door. But for now, in this moment, thereâs nothing else that matters. Just you, and him, and the quiet contentment of being together.
Oscar closes his eyes, letting the peace of the moment wash over him. There will be time for everything else later. For now, heâs exactly where he wants to be.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#oscar piastri#op81#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#oscar piastri x female reader#oscar piastri x y/n#mclaren#oscar piastri one shot#oscar piastri drabble
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Check Yes (to go on a date with a dead guy) chapter 5 progress
âHey!â Duke hollered, as soon as Jason put the key in his door. âWelcome back, loser!â
Danny huffed out a laugh.Â
âHey yourself,â Jason called out, holding the door open and making sure Danny got in before he closed it behind them. âScruffy little brother, this is Danny. Danny, this is Duke.âÂ
âWait, what?â Duke skidded into the room on socked feet, eyes wide and mouth grinning in confused delight. âI didn't know you had any friends!âÂ
âOh, we're not friends,â Danny reassured him easily, missing Jason's scowl. âJust dating. So there's still no proof that he has friends.â He winked obnoxiously.Â
Jason could see the moment Duke shut down and rebooted twice as excited.Â
Christ. He quietly cursed to himself and ducked his head to hide the burning in his cheeks as Danny bounced over to hold his hand out. He was never beating the allegations of favoritism after this, Jason sighed.Â
Danny was a little sun spot when he chirped, âNice to meet you, I hear you're the generous distributor of games?â
âYeah, that request makes sooo much more sense now.â Duke met Danny's hand with a friendly slap and then went in for a hug. Jason cringed at the familiarity- but apparently it was the right move. Danny went for it, backslapping Duke amiably. They separated. Danny thoughtfully held Duke at a distance, hands on his shoulders.Â
âI see. So, you're my true opponent?â At Duke's nod, Danny smiled with a few too many teeth. He leaned in to hold intense eye contact. âGonna kick your ass,â Danny vowed.Â
âYou can try, old man,â Duke shot back. They separated with grins. âIâll set up. Jason, your taste is so much better than I thought it would be.â
Jason made an offended noise. âWait, what?âÂ
Duke gestured at him with one lazy hand as he unlatched the top of his backpack and started withdrawing games. âI figured you would exclusively date super serious tough types.â
â... I'm tough,â Danny said morosely.
Jason resisted the urge to cackle. He didn't disbelieve it at all! Size wasn't everything. But the uh, the big baby eyes and slumping shoulders really weren't selling the toughness.
Duke shrugged, brutal and unconcerned with the damage he was leaving in his wake. âI was thinking more like a forensic accountant who collects rocks and cage fights literally just for the fitness benefits.âÂ
Jason took a moment to consider that theoretical accountant. He would date that person. They sounded well rounded. It was a sensible career, a chill hobby, and a reasonably active lifestyle. What was wrong with that? He frowned to himself. What was Duke even implying??
âI would date that accountant,â Danny reluctantly admitted. He seemed disgruntled about it. âI don't cage fight, sorry to disappoint. You can't imagine how much my sister would kill me if I tried.âÂ
âIt's fine,â Jason reassured, making a mental note of a sister and the potential for quantifiable subsequent deaths. âMe either.âÂ
He could, though. He thought about it for a moment. He'd kick so much ass. That would be a fun way to give Bruce a heart attack.Â
Duke snorted, but thankfully said nothing else. Jason didn't want to hear what Duke thought about his odds in cage fighting. Jason knew what was in his heart and that it was fighting potential.Â
The game Duke and Danny settled on was a multiplayer racing game. Jason dutifully tried. His car bounced along and beat out all but one of the computer's characters. He endured two rounds before he bowed out and leaned back to watch the other two trash talk each other.Â
Honestly, these games were repetitive and pretty boring. Jason zoned out and stretched. He was laying his arm along the back of the couch before he realized that was a bad idea.Â
He froze, forearm just barely brushing against the back of Danny's neck. Danny⊠didn't seem to care.Â
Well. Jason let his arm relax. It was only weird if Danny thought it was weird.Â
Duke glanced over out of the corner of his eye and gave Jason a cat-faced smirk. Jason raised his hand just enough to show off his favorite finger.Â
âHey, gimme a min?â Duke said. âI need to use the bathroom.â
Liar. Sneaking liar, Jason thought fondly. He was going to try to spy and see what they did when he left the room.Â
Danny hit the pause button and let the controller drop to the sofa. âYeah, go piss girl,â he drawled.Â
Jason cocked his head to the side in confusion.
Duke just laughed, so that must have been some kind of reference. He clambered over the back of the sofa and gave Danny's shoulders a light push on his way past.Â
Danny went with the motion and bumped into Jason with a giggle. Jason endured it patiently, bemused but enjoying that they were both happy.Â
The bathroom door shut behind Duke.Â
Danny leaned further into Jason and contorted his neck at a frankly precarious angle to look up at him. âAre you having fun?â He checked. Danny's ear brushed against Jason's chest in a way that he was hyper aware of. There was line of concern between his eyebrows that Jason kinda wanted to smooth away with a thumb.
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