#accidents

[aloneinthedark-eagle]

💫God loves some of his servants very much💫 🫣

[jadesenigma]

Happy Accidents

Cinestill 800T

[nobeerreviews]

A sudden light transfigures a trivial thing, a weather-vane, a windmill, a winnowing flail, the dust in the barn door; a moment - and the thing has vanished, because it was pure effect; but it leaves a relish behind it, a longing that the accident may happen again.

-- Walter Pater

(Nesebar, Bulgaria)

[djkerr]

The Pitt (2025) // ER (1994-2009)

THE PITT (2025-) | ER (1994-2009)

[mapsontheweb]

Every place a pedestrian has been hit in downtown Calgary and EMS was called.

[alvfr]

hey I saw you're open to requests and I'm so obsessed with your "Accidents" series with Hotch x Reader! I totally get you're taking a break from it atm so feel free to ignore but I'd love a drabble or whatever you're comfortable writing/sharing from the series? Maybe like a snapshot of when they were still figuring things out before they crossed that line or became established.

Thanks so much!

A/N: Aah, it's been so long since I've written for Hotch so I hope I managed something at least. I really tried to keep this short-ish and more of a drabble, but yeah, this would be set after the shower-scene in "Elevators" but before the bonus-part, I guess. Not super exciting maybe, but good practice for me. cw: none? sfw. awkward phone call. fem bau!reader, no use of y/n, part of "accidents" wc: 1.3k

Call me maybe

The first time Hotch called you was around eight in the evening, the day after your team got back from the conference in Florida. While you could not say you had been expecting it — a pessimistic part of you always expected the worst case scenario — your body told a different tale. Every inch of you had buzzed with anticipation since you stepped foot in your own apartment. Making sure to keep your phone charged and unmuted for a change, going as far as keeping it within sight when taking a shower and still checking it religiously every few minutes in case you had missed something. 

You argued with yourself, scolding yourself for waiting around like a lovesick schoolgirl and then berating yourself for doubting his word in the first place. He had said he would call and Hotch did not lie so why were you getting so worked up? 

When the day dragged on, without even paperwork to distract yourself with, you spiraled into increasingly worse scenarios as to why he had not called. He had been called into work, he had lost his phone, he had forgot his charger, he was discovered he was under surveillance by some shady government officials. Or something had happened to him, or to someone he cared about, or something had happened to both him and someone he cared about. Or, and this was simultaneously the best and worst one, he had changed his mind.

So when the call came that night, you had worked yourself into a bit of a frenzy and jumped at the sound of your own ring tone. The display glowed with the name 'A. Hotchner' and you forgot all about basic human behavior, like blinking or even breathing. 

It rang three times before your body bypassed your meddlesome mind and you picked up with the standard greeting of your last name, just in case he was under surveillance somehow. A theory that gained traction with every loaded second where you could not hear anything from the other side.

“Hotch?” you asked and held the phone out to check if the call was still active. In your state, you would not have been all that surprised to find if you had hallucinated the whole thing. “You there?”

“Yes.” The smooth sound of his voice sent rivers of idyll into your veins while your heart threatened to pound out of your skull. “Sorry. Hi.”

A stupid grin overtook your face and you twirled the still-connected charger cable with your fingers before catching yourself. Dropping the cable, you cleared both your throat and face. “Hi.” 

“Hi. Sorry, is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s good.” 

You tried to avoid looking at the mess of your apartment, all chores neglected for the day in case you wound up missing his call. In truth, you’d drop everything in a heartbeat and come over if he asked, although you had no idea where he lived. 

“I mean, I can talk?” You winced at how you had managed to phrase it as a question and cleared your throat again. “What’s up?”

And the award for worst conversationalist goes to this girl right here, you thought with a hefty roll of your eyes. What’s up? What were you, fourteen years old and trying to impress your friend’s older brother?

“Not much,” Hotch admitted from his side of the line and you thought you could detect a hint of gratitude in there. “Just finished up some overdue paperwork.”

“San Joaquin county?” you guessed, knowing without a doubt how much paperwork that case still generated. 

“Parts of it, yes. There’s also the budgets, protocols and various administration memos I’m forced to have an opinion on.” A slight pause and you caught a slight intake of breath on his side. “I didn’t call to talk about work.”

You forced yourself to keep your breaths slow and controlled instead of shivering as you knew they’d be. “Okay.”

“How are you?” The tenderness in his voice wreaked havoc with your inner organs and you could imagine his expression. The tilt to his eyebrows that matched the tilt of his jaw where he looked up, resting his eyes on whatever was near the ceiling to the left of him. “You get home okay?”

“Safe and sound. You?”

“All in one piece.” 

A silence stretched on for an uncomfortable few heartbeats and you wracked your brain for something worthwhile to say. It was uncharted territory to talk to him casually like this. No time crunch forcing you to keep the small talk to a minimum and no risk of getting caught forcing you to speak in code. Neither did your forte lay in phone calls and, as the profiler you were, you wished you could have had his facial expressions and mannerisms to reveal more of his thoughts during the conversation. The same probably went for him, you realized and it made you breathe a little easier.

“What did you think of the conference?” he asked just as you were about to say something completely different.

“Uh…” Your brain did a full reboot to no avail. “Are you asking about the actual conference or—”

“The actual conference,” he clarified and you thought you could hear the smile in his voice. “Did you catch the mass-shooting response training?”

“I did and it was okay, I guess, even if it felt a little dated.” You wandered around in your apartment, needing to get rid of the built-up excess energy. “Doesn’t this count as work talk though?”

“You’re right. Sorry, I’m,” you heard something brushing against the microphone, maybe him dragging a hand over his forehead, “not very good at this. I, uh, wanted to call to reiterate that I fully understand if you’ve changed your mind about this.”

“I haven’t.”

The words came out faster than you had anticipated, some part of you determined to deny him any possibility of doubt. 

“I’m really glad you called, Hotch.” You did a few test-runs at yourself in the mirror and corrected yourself to: “Aaron.”

“Good. I’ve been working up the nerve to do so for the past hour.”

Again, you could imagine his expression. The slight secretive smile, his head now tilted downward, exposing more of his neck to the room.

“Well, I’ve been waiting for it since I got home last night.” You tried to match his unabashed honesty, the need to convince him that you wanted this still present. “If that makes you feel any better.”

“A little,” he murmured and you could almost feel how he settled in wherever he was, maybe lounging back against the couch or chair, getting comfortable and the phone scratched again as he shifted it around. “What kind of movies do you like?”

The question blindsided you and you blinked at your own reflection in the mirror. “Uh, I’m omnivorous really. Why?”

“I’m looking through the show times for Friday night. I was hoping you would like to go see a movie with me, if we don’t get a case.”

“Oh.” Your stupid grin returned tenfold and you absentmindedly twirled the charging cable again. “Well, then I really like the movie that is playing this Friday night.”

In the end, you settled for a title and time, both of which would be rescheduled over and over again because of a case getting in the way. It took you a month to go see a movie together, but it did not really matter. By then, you had talked on the phone every night you were off a case (and sometimes he called you from a hotel room that were just a few doors down the hall from yours to say good night when you were on a case.) A torturous slow pace, maybe, but well worth it in your opinion.

-----

Thank you for the request!

If you want to read the rest of the series, it is on AO3 here (E-rated)

Let me know if you liked it, thank you for reading ❤️

[mapis-putellas]

Accidents happen

Pairings: Natasha x you

Words: 1891

Warnings: bed wetting? Idk.

Summary: Natasha has an accident due to how sick she is. It’s up to you to convince her there is absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. (Requested)

Notes: This is bordering on age regression. I don’t know if this topic is controversial, but if it is and you’re offended, please don’t read. It’s absolutely nothing detailed. Just fluff. Thank you.

You let out a soft exhale through your nose as you tenderly trail the pad of your thumb over the warm, soft skin of Natasha's cheek. The red head was laying on her side, fast asleep as hoarse, crackly breaths escape her chapped lips. She'd been sick for three days now, and it appeared as though she was no closer to getting better despite the amount of medicine she'd been taking.

It was way past the generic cold now. You knew that. Sure it had started that way. A light fever. A runny nose and cough. Nothing Natasha hadn't dealt with before and you knew for a fact had you not caught her mid sneezing fit just yesterday, she probably wouldn't have even told you she was feeling under the weather and would have toughed it out until she was better.

But that wasn't the case now.

Said cold had transpired into what you could only guess was one of the worst cases if the flu you'd ever seen. She was seriously congested. She had a pretty severe migraine and even her stomach had joined in on the fun leaving her unable to eat anything.

A particularly hoarse breath from Natasha brings you out of your thoughts, and you flicker your eyes up to see her face scrunched up in discomfort. You frown slightly as you lean forward to press a soft kiss to her forehead, your hands lingering on her face for a moment longer before you decided it was best to try another tactic.

"Shhh, you're okay," you attempt to sooth as you slip your arm beneath her side and gently coax her tired body into your arms.

She was remarkably easy to direct, settling against your chest with a wet cough as her hands reach up to cling to your hoodie. She seems to instinctively wipe her dripping nose onto the material too, and though you roll your eyes fondly, you knew a tissue would be much better suited for what she was trying to do.

Reaching back, you grab a few tissues from the box on your nightstand and make quick but gentle work of ridding the snot from her nose and cupids bow.

The feeling of the rough tissue against her sore, red tinged nose has Natasha's once again rousing, a pain filled whimper escaping her lips as she hides her face against your chest in a futile attempt at getting away from whatever was hurting her.

Not wanting to further her discomfort in any way, you abandon the task just half way through and toss the now soiled tissue into the trashcan.

With a soft sigh and a gentle kiss against her hairline, you slip a hand beneath her pyjama shirt and begin trailing your fingers over the too warm skin. "All done baby, you're okay." You murmur, giving the thigh that had come to rest across your stomach a soft, comforting squeeze.

In response, Natasha’s sleeping self lets out a hoarse, heavy sigh, her grasp loosening on your shirt as she once again slips into fitful sleep. With the knowledge you would be her pillow until another sneeze or cough inevitably woke her, you grab your phone from the nightstand and decide to kill some time scrolling through social media.

Your free hand continues to absentmindedly trace over her back, up to the nape of her neck and down to just above her underwear. Natasha seems to all hit melt into you, and you all but welcome her as close as she could possibly get. Before long, she was more or less on top of you, head tucked into the crook of your neck with her legs sprawled over your own.

You can’t help but pout softly at the action, pressing your lips in a tender kiss against the top of her head.

Soon, the sun outside disappears behind the clouds signalling that it was getting late. With the knowledge that it would soon be time for Natasha’s to take some more medicine, you place your phone down and slip both hands beneath her shirt. You graze the pads if your thumbs over her sides, craning your head and pressing your lips her forehead.

“Nat? It’s time to wake up baby.” You murmur, lightly tapping the small of her back. Natasha remains still, her breath heavy against the skin of your neck.

You smile softly and reach down to give her behind a few firm pats, “Pumpkin? Wakey wakey.” You coo, affectionately grazing the tips of your fingers over the top of her underwear before bringing your hand back up to meet the other that was still resting on the middle of her back.

Natasha does no more than let out a soft whimper.

Your heart breaks at the sound, but before you could even continue trying to wake her, a sudden wetness begins seeping into the material of your pyjama bottoms. A frown of confusion slips onto your lips at the sensation, and you lift the covers slightly to see that a sudden wet spot had appeared on both your shirt and pants.

You couldn’t see the front of Natasha’s body, but you had a funny feeling that if you could, the same sight would greet you there too.

She’d had an accident.

“Oh baby…” you trail off sympathetically as you let go of the blankets, allowing them to conceal you both again as you hug her body close to you and let out a soft sigh. You didn’t know what to do.

If you woke her, you had no idea just how she’d react. This had never happened before. Why would it? Natasha was a grown woman. But she’d never been this sick before either. Could that be the reason? Could someone be so sick they could have an accident without even realising it?

Knowing you had to wake her either way, you let out a deep sigh and prepare yourself to do just that.

Keeping your hold around her tight, you adjust her legs to settle either side of your hips and sit yourself up. She was straddling you now, but you didn’t think she was completely asleep. Her hands were gripping the back of your shirt, and you could feel her eyelashes fluttering against your neck.

“Nat?” You ask tentatively, bringing a hand down to rest on the small of her back. The red head lets out a heavy sigh as she forces her eyes open, and as soon as she realises her current predicament, she freezes in your arms.

“It’s okay,” you were quick to sooth, tightening your hold around her so she didn’t bolt. “It was just an accident. Everyone has them. It’s nothing to be ashamed about I promise.”

Natasha’s shoulders begin to shake, and you feel her let out a choked sob. Despite the tears, you were thankful because you’d rather this than her bolting and shutting you out.

You nuzzle your nose into her neck and press a soft kiss to the warm skin as your hands once again slip beneath her shirt, hoping the skin on skin contact would help sooth her.

“You’re sick baby,” you murmur into her ear, “It’s not your fault. I’m not mad. Or upset. It was just an accident. They happen to everyone. You’re okay.”

Natasha sniffles as her body shudders with the force of her sobs, and you pull her just that bit closer, your own eyes burning with tears. “It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

It takes a little while, but soon, her sobs turn into soft sniffles, and you give her one last squeeze before placing a hand on either of her sides before attempting to ease her away from you. Natasha resists as she coughs wetly, and you quietly shush her as you pull her body back to your own.

She wasn’t ready to face you yet, and that was okay.

“Take all the time you need.” Was all you say as you secure your arms back around her waist, attempting to ignore the once warm wetness that had long gone cold against you.

You begin to hum softly as you rock her body back and forth in your arms, the corners of your lips quirking up into a smile when feel her begin to relax against you.

After a few moments, you once again attempt to ease her away from you, and this time, she allows it. Her cheeks, you notice, were red with both her fever and embarrassment, and she was seemingly unable to meet your eyes. You reach up to cup her face and place a gentle kiss to her nose.

“It’s okay pumpkin,” you murmur, smiling slightly when her hands come up to rest over your own. They were trembling slightly, and you adjust your thumbs so you could trial the pad of then over the backs of her hands.

“We don’t have to talk about it if that makes you uncomfortable. Let’s just get you cleaned up, okay?”

Natasha nods as a single tear track slips down her cheek, and you tenderly wipe it away before coaxing her chest back against own. She complies without hesitation, and you secure your other arm around the small of her back before rising to your feet and carrying her into the bathroom.

Despite the fact that slipping a hand beneath her behind would make it easier to hold her up, you refrain from doing so in fear it would only embarrass her further. Instead, you hold her as close as you possibly could to you in hopes that would be enough.

You reach behind the glass shower door to turn on the water before lightly squeezing her thigh as a silent request for her to let you go. She does, but she was still seemingly unable to meet your eyes.

With the knowledge that she may need some time to get over this, you allow her to do whatever she needed to be comfortable.

“Can I help you?” You question as you reach up to gently brush a sweaty strand of hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear.

“Yes please.” She pleads, her voice raspy. You press your lips against her forehead in a soft kiss before placing your hands on the bottom of her shirt and tugging it up and off of her body. Left in just her wet underwear, her cheeks flush red again, and you bend down and hook your fingers into the top before pulling them down.

She steps out of them with a trembling hand on your shoulder for balance, and you press an affectionate kiss to her hipbone before returning upright and making quick work of removing your own clothes.

Figuring that the water was now hot enough, you slip an arm around her waist to guide her in, yourself following shortly.

“There we go,” you murmur as she all but falls into your arms, arms tight around your waist and head against your chest tucked perfectly beneath your chin. You return the embrace without hesitation, cupping the back of her head and rocking her slightly back and forth.

“There we go.”

**

I hope you all enjoyed ♥️

[theriu]

I learned recently from family members that EMTs and paramedics are having trouble right now with people in accidents refusing to say whether they are biologically male or female, stating it’s “none of their business” and “doesn’t matter.”

Friends, IT DOES MATTER! Male and female bodies ARE biologically different and can exhibit similar symptoms for different reasons, and if the EMT doesn’t know which you are, THEY MAY NOT BE ABLE TO TREAT YOU because they can’t be sure what’s wrong! This is not a matter of gender politics, it is a matter of life and death! PLEASE, be honest with your healthcare provider, especially in an emergency! THEY DO NEED TO KNOW!

[matthewbw]

How’d you get in to diapers?

That’s a full question. Freud says this fetish comes from being potty trained too early. Which makes sense since I vividly remember trying to be trained with no luck. I simply wasn’t ready therefore I had accidents.

But it wasn’t until puberty when it really came full circle. My previous accidents were so infrequent my mom didn’t do much. But all of a sudden entering high school I started wetting the bed like every night. After 2 weeks my mom was fed up and put me back in diapers.

It wasn’t great until after it got normal. Like at first I was like no. Then I was like ok this helps and free that all of a sudden it was just like ok here I am. But then my accidents started to fade away.

Then I went to college and the accidents were few and far between. But I kept buying and wearing cuz why not. I still legit have accidents but it’s not as often. So anyway why not just wear.

[scooby-doo-exploration]

tanot

TAG on ‘Archive’: https://scooby-doo-exploration.tumblr.com/archive

[regressedlilbee]

the accidents are getting bad again.

i’m so tired of this cycle. i can’t quite get the hang of potty training, and i slip further and further into a state of total regression. then my loved ones step in and they want me to grow up and they don’t understand but i try to work so so diligently on the wettings and do the grown up things and i make them proud! but then i get burnt out on pretending and im stressed and overwhelmed and i start having accidents during the day again, and even in places that are familiar to me, and i cant help but get so sad and scared and so so little again.

[sneggley]

The second time I played Stardew Valley, during the egg festival, I accidentally spent 1600g on lawn flamingos and my partner almost cried.

[sixpenceee]

Results of speeding 100+ in a 40mph zone | source                          

[mapsontheweb]

A map of where traffic accidents occurred between 2016 and 2019, in 48 States

[victusinveritas]

Here's part of a 1937 ad for accident insurance, and by God haven't I had days like this...