Random Oneshots from my Tumblr (@bad268)
Writing Inktober entries were moved to another book so read that too :)
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Includes stories from the following fandoms- Harry Potter, Avengers, The Maze Runner (TMR), Supernatural, Phantom of the Opera (PotO)...
Requested: Not exactly, ramp up for Inktober (first entry will be on Monday so check it out!)
Warnings: car crash, flashbacks of Daytona 2001, hurt/not really comfort
Summary: What if it happened to you on a different day? On a bridge where there wasn't a rail in the way?
W.C. 1415
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"Hey, Dale. I know we just hung up like 5 minutes ago, and you were about to get in the car, but I just...I don't know. I just wanted to hear your voice again. Something's happened, and I don't know if I'll make it to the track to see you race. I'm really sorry, Dale. Just, um, call me? Whenever you get this? I know you're in the car, but just whenever you're out? I love you, just reminding you that. Um, I'll talk to you soon."
That was not the first thing he wanted to hear when he got back to his pit box after his runner-up finish in Atlanta. Tony had offhandedly given Dale his phone before rambling some post-race bs that Dale had stopped listening to once he saw a missed call and voicemail from you.
Then his heart stopped as soon as he saw the random phone number and subsequent voicemail about an hour after your own voicemail.
"Hello, Mr. Earnhardt. This is Dr. Halstead from Grady Memorial Hospital, regarding Y/n. You were listed as their emergency contact. They're here with us following an accident this evening. They're currently receiving treatment, and we'd like you to call us back as soon as you're able to. Again, this is Dr. Halstead, just please call us as soon as you get this."
"Hey, Tony, I need to go." Dale doesn't even remember saying it, but he must have because no one put up a fight when he started speedwalking back to his hauler as he redialed the number.
"Grady Memorial, emergency department."
"Yeah, hi. I uh got a voicemail. From Dr. Halstead, I think?" Dale said as he frantically threw things into his duffel. "He called me about Y/n."
"Can I get your name?"
"Dale Earnhardt Jr," He answered and heard some clicking on the other side over his frantic breathing.
"Yes, Mr. Earnhardt. We have them here."
"Are they alive?" The question came out before he could stop himself, and it only met with silence on the other end. "Hello?"
"Yes, they're alive."
"Okay," he said quietly. "Are they awake?"
"Currently, no, but-"
"Are they hurt?" He said quickly, gripping the phone tighter as he sat on the bed, needing something to ground himself.
"Mr. Earnhardt, I need you to understand that I can't discuss their condition in detail over the phone."
