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wardenannie · 3 years

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heyy! saw you were taking prompts so i thought i'd send you onee.

could you write a spicy levihan oneshot based on levi and hanji reuniting after a long time being apart? it can be canonverse or a modern au, whatever youd'd like!

love love love your writinggg <333

Love this prompt. I'm writing this as a modern AU where Levi and Hange met in the military and fell in love. Later on Levi is injured and is honorably discharged but Hange remains active duty. 💚

Boomers having seggs under the cut ;)

Eight months. He hasn't seen his wife in eight, long months.

He drives to the airport in a car modified to accommodate his disability. His right leg has never worked the same since the bullet. He rolls through the terminal in his wheelchair. People look down on him, the little man in the little chair, but he doesn't care.

Levi is going to see Hange. His Hange. They fell in love on the field of war, and as far as he knows there is no stronger bond. He misses her touch, her kiss, the low ramble of her voice.

He misses his Hange.

The circumstances of her return are less than ideal. An IED has left her missing an eye and badly burned. They had to airlift her to Germany where she recovered without him. She hadn't wanted him there. Hadn't wanted him to see her so broken.

It still broke his heart.

Now he waits by the baggage claim, watching the arrivals. Frankfurt 8:20 am, on schedule.

Levi checks his watch; its 7. He has some time to kill. But all he can do is wait, staring at the arrivals. His good leg jiggles with anxiety. His good eye never wavers from that screen.

The hour passes like molasses, the final twenty minutes like cement, but finally a familiar head of russet hair rounds the corner. She's on crutches still, and she wears a patch over one eye. Most of her is covered by her military greens, but he can see the burn scars on her left hand and cheek.

She has never looked more beautiful to him.

He wheels over to her as fast as he can, breathless, grinning.

Hange meets him, leaning over to pull him into a tight hug. Her warmth is rejuvenating, he has not felt so whole in a long time.

The first thing she says to him, breathless in his ear, is a joke; "Between the two of us we've got one working set of eyes, smalls."

"I'll watch your left if you watch my right," Levi replies, then he pulls back from the hug to kiss her deeply, not caring who sees.

A few people, seeing Hange's uniform and Levi's chair, begin to clap for them.

Levi just wants them to shut the fuck up.

They make it back to their apartment in record time, both of them grinning like idiots as they pass over the threshold.

Hange drops her single duffel bag in the entry way and inhales deeply. Then she sighs, eyes becoming sad, "Assimilation back into civilian life is going to be hard, isn't it? Especially now that I look like the crypt keeper."

"I'll be here to help you," Levi stands up, folding his chair. He limps over to her, leans on her, kisses scarred jaw. "You're beautiful."

Hange shakes her head and helps him into the living room. They sit on the couch, hands clutching at one another, loath to lose such a precious thing as touch after so many months.

"You can't see the worst of it, it's under the uniform," she explains. "I honestly think it'll make you sick."

"Hange," Levi leans forward to kiss her, bit she avoided him.

"I lost my left nipple, you know? Burned clean off. My tits are lopsided now," she cups them, dropping his hand. He can't tell anything through the uniform. "God Levi I feel like such a monster."

"No," Levi snaps, drawing her into his arms. "I almost lost you, four-eyes. They told me you had a fifty-fifty shot. I thought I was going going lose you. Now that I finally have you back I won't listen to this shit. You're my wife. I love you so much it fucking hurts, burns or no."

Hange sniffs, peeking out between her fingers.

Levi leans forward to kiss her forhead, "I missed you so much. Everyday I wasn't with you killed me a little bit, Hange. Knowing I wasn't there to protect you."

Hange inclines her head to kiss his lips. Chastely at first, but Levi deepens it, cupping the back of her neck and pulling her closer to him by her waist.

His tongue traces along her lower lip and she grants him entrance. She tastes like the mints she always sucks on when she flies. Hange moans softly into his mouth, one hand cupping his scarred cheek.

They part by a few inches, and Levi asks softly, "Are you ready for sex? Does it still hurt?"

"Sometimes I can still feel the fire in my skin," Hange shivers, then she kisses his jaw. "I want you to take it away."

"Hange..."

She takes his hands. Both of them are shaking slightly, "Make love to me, Levi. I want to feel whole again."

In the past he would have lifted her and carried her to their bedroom. But now his leg will not allow for that, so he hoists her up with an arm around her waist, lips working at very neck and jaw as he guides her to their marriage bed.

It's the same as when she left. Black duvet, white sheets, all neatly laid out and folded by her husband.

He lays her down on the duvet and crawls over top of her, beginning to work at the buttons of her uniform. Her hands caress down his chest to the hem of his shirt, which she tugs at lightly.

Levi finishes the last button, then sits up to remove his crew neck before gently pushing Hange's top off of her shoulders.

"You've been staying in shape," she marvels softly, caressing her hands over the scarred marble of his skin.

He shrugs, eyeing her breast bindings hungrily, "Physical therapy got me on an exercise kick."

"I've gone a little soft," Hange sighs, "So many weeks in hospital, you know?"

Levi begins to undo her breast bindings, deft fingers pulling them away strip by strip. When she is bared to him he marvels at the mottled pattern of her skin; olive and red, silver and purple. Like she said, she is missing a nipple, but he hardly notices for the joy of being with his wife again.

"You're beautiful," he breaths softly, and he leans over to lavish her branded skin with sensual kisses.

Hange moans softly, fingers curling into his hair as his tongue traces along sensitive scar tissue.

"Levi," she moans. Eyes fluttering shut.

He begins to descend, following the line of scarring that divides her body in two. His tongue traces along her navel, and when he reaches her waistband, he looks up to her with hooded grey eyes, begging permission.

Biting her lip, Hange nods frantically, "I want your mouth on me, it's been so long."

Levi hums in agreement, peeling her trousers and simple cotton panties down her thighs in a single movement. It has been far too long.

Her cunt glistens wetly in the low light of the bedroom. Here she is the same, here the fire has not touched her, so when Levi lowers his tongue to lick a hot stripe up her folds, he knows just how to make her twitch.

His lips seal over her clit, feeling it harden and swell under his assault. His fingers find her entrance and press inside, curling backwards in a familiar pattern, pads brushing up against her g-spot.

"Oh shit, Levi," she throws a burned arm over her eyes, cunt already beginning to twitch and tighten around his fingers.

"Come," he commands softly, low voice vibrating against her clit. "Come for me, Hange."

She does, thighs shivering as she falls apart on his fingers. She makes a high, keening sound that makes Levi smile as he pulls his wet mouth away from her pussy. He presses a kiss over her mound then stands, undoing his belt and shucking his pants.

His cock bounces free, heavy, swollen and beaded with precum at the tip. Now they are both naked save for the wedding bands they wear on chains around their necks.

Hange smiles at him, scooting up the bed and beckoning with a pink, scarred finger. All of her bashfulness over her wounds has melted away, "It's been awhile, Captain. I needed the warm up."

He crawls over top over her, kissing her breasts before kissing her lips tenderly. Missionary is his favorite position, so he can look into her eyes while they make love.

He reaches between their bodies, lining up the head of his cock with her entrance.

"Ready?" He whispers against her parted lips, holding her stare. Their is fire in both of their eyes, a love like none other. Slate holds to wine as she nods and he slides into her, smooth and easy.

Entering Hange is like coming home. Levi shuts his eyes and let's the sensation surround him, swallowing him up. He tucks his face into the crook of her shoulder, moaning softly as he begins to thrust, slow and steady.

"Levi," she whispers his name. "Levi, Levi, Levi."

Her fingers caress down the switching muscles of his sides and she clutches at the globes of his ass, urging him to go harder, faster.

The feel of her cunt is sublime, tight and wet and hot around his dick. She kisses his temple as he makes love to her, then her hands rake up from his ass to cup the back of his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss.

Levi snaps his hips as hers roll to meet his. His fingers trace delicately over her scars as his tongue curves along the back of her teeth.

When they part, panting and flushed, he exhales against her lips, "I missed you so much."

Hange nods, fingers curling into her shoulders as her cunt begins to tighten around him. There are tears in her eyes, tears of deep seated emotion still unspoken. Tears of a wounded soldier. Tears of lovers reunited at last.

Levi's hips begin to stutter, cock swelling, balls tightening to his body.

"Come in me," Hange implores, holding his gaze. Her eyes plead, "inside, please."

Then her body goes tense under him, and she makes soft panting sounds as her orgasm takes her in waves.

Levi's lips part, eyes hooding as his thighs and groin go alight and he finishes inside of his lover.

He gives a few, final thrusts, working himself deep before he collapses on top of her. They both pant, sharing gentle kisses in the sweetness of the afterglow.

Levi holds Hange to his chest, fingers tracing along her scars.

"You're so beautiful, Hange," he breaths, emotions rising in his chest. "You have no idea."

Hange kisses the corner of his mouth, eyes hooded and lazy. Mixed fluids drip between her thighs, "So are you, Levi."

Her fingers catch on his chain, following it down to his ring. It mirrors her own, a simple golden band.

"I love you," she says. "And I'm never leaving you like that ever again."

Levi nods, "Likewise, and I love you, too."

Reunited at last, they sleep.

#levihan #my writing

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mysticm3ss · 4 years

Text

Being quarantined with Zen would include...

hi hello yes i’m still zen trash, here i go again writing more fluffy topical content cope lmao

When Zen gets the phone call that his latest project has been postponed until further notice, it’s bittersweet.

On one hand, Zen loves his work, and you know that not being able to go will be difficult for him.

But far outweighing it is the joy upon the realisation that you’ll finally get to spend some quality time together!

With nothing to do, your days are long, but Zen is intent on making them interesting.

He comes up with new activities for you to do every day: a karaoke day, an at-home spa day, a yoga and meditation day.

Anything to keep the two of you busy in order to restore some semblance of normal.

He loves having you around all the time—learning your little quirks and habits, the tiny things he’s never had a chance to notice before.

If you ever start to feel anxious or overwhelmed, Zen is more than happy to tuck you against his chest, fingers running through your hair as he presses kisses to your forehead and temple.

Cuddling in general becomes a popular activity—the two of you won’t go a day without having at least one solid, hour-long cuddle session.

Seven will sometimes host Netflix parties that he hacks into your computers to make you join which, although sometimes inconvenient, can act as a nice distraction.

The two of you video call with Yoosung a lot to check that he’s handling living alone okay, and to spend some time catching up.

If things go into total lockdown to the point you can’t leave the house, Zen develops a lot of pent up energy from not going on his runs.

He’ll jog from room to room, do star jumps, look up workout videos online…

And of course unleashing the beast is a wonderful workout that becomes increasingly more frequent as days go by 👀

Of course, should you (or any of the RFA) have any issues getting groceries or any other essentials, you know Jumin is there frickin airlifting them to you or something, despite your Zen’s protests.

He’ll also spend a lot of time practising his acting, looking up monologues online and performing them for you.

The romantic ones are particularly enjoyable, since Zen will always go off script and pair them with soft kisses.

Speaking of kisses, if they were shared a lot before, that has increased tenfold by now.

He spends so much time watching you; the way you move, the way you laugh, the way you smile, and it sends his chest flooding with a fuzzy warmth that will only build until he can kiss you.

Lots of couch makeout sessions 99% of which progress to the bedroom

The two of you find a show (or several) to call ‘your show’ on Netflix that you’ll watch every evening with a can of beer or a glass of wine or a non alcoholic substitute, if that’s not for you

You’ll both bicker and argue more often, of course, considering the close quarters.

But again, the close quarters force you to make up much more quickly.

You both make a deal never to go to bed angry, and besides, without the other person to hang out with, things get boring pretty quickly.

Zen can’t even last an hour of not talking to you before he’s longing for your touch and approaching you so that you can talk it out and cuddle.

And if he sees you cry? All cards off the table, he’s apologising straight away and pulling you right into his lap.

Although things are far from ideal, Zen can’t help but feel grateful that he gets to spend so much time with you.

He loves his job, but the reprieve from the long hours and absences from his love is definitely a relief.

When the quarantine finally ends, you know that you’ll both come out stronger for it.

__________

Hope you enjoyed! If you did, please reblog and comment, it makes my day! xx

#mystic messenger #mysme #mm zen #hyun ryu #mysme zen #mysme headcanons #mysme hyun ryu #mm #zen x reader #zen x mc #hyun ryu x reader #hyun ryu x mc #mm headcanons #mysme imagine #mm hyun ryu

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longlivelindanny · 3 years

Text

You’re Alive, You’re Alive

Paring: Danny & Linda Reagan

Rating: M

Genre: romance, smut

She didn't know exactly where she was- somewhere in Manhattan, but she had no idea where. She had a feeling, a weird, strong feeling she needed to find someone- a man. She had no idea if she knew the man, but her gut and heart were screaming "find him!" She tried, asking around for him and getting now where since she couldn't produce a name or face or any sort of defining feature or characteristic. Feeling almost defeated, she went into one more bar.

She stood at the bar, talking to the bartender. "Excuse me. I know this is going to sound weird, but I'm looking for a man. I don't know his name or where he lives or what he does, but I need to find him."

"How can you be lookin' for someone you know nothin' about?"

"I don't know." She sighed and looked up at the tv. There on the screen, was a handsome man talking to the press. "Hey! That's him!"

The bartender looked up, "that's the commissioner's son- Danny Reagan's his name."

"Danny Reagan. Do you know where he works, where he lives?"

"Where he works, yeah. Over at the 5-4."

"The five-four? What's that?"

"Have you been livin' under a rock? It's a police station."

"Could you tell me where it is?"

She listened closely to the directions, nodding along, everything sounding vaguely familiar. "Thank you."

She set out on her journey, not knowing at all what to expect. What if this Danny character was married? What if he had kids? Or what if he was sleeping with that pretty Latina standing next to him on the tv screen? The woman had so many questions, questions she craved answers for: the most important one being "who the hell am I?"

**********

"There has to be something we missed," Danny was standing at his desk, shifting through papers strewn haphazardly across the surface.

"We just told the press everything's fine." His partner, Maria Baez, lifted her hand in a shrug.

"We have to lie to the press to keep them at bay. This doesn't seem like a normal murder. It's all too... neat."

"I can head over to the neighbor's again, see if they actually have more to tell us."

"Good idea."

"I'll keep you posted." Baez grabbed her coat and left the building.

"Um, excuse me."

There was a tap on Danny's shoulder and he turned around to face the woman. His heart immediately started pounding for reasons unknown.

"You don't know me, and I don't know you, but... something is telling me to look you up. I think- what's the matter?" She stopped her talking, a look of concern crossing her face. "You look like you've seen a ghost!"

"What's your name?"

"I don't know."

"Where'd you come from?"

"Somewhere dark and dingy and scary. Jersey, I think."

"How'd you get here?"

"Hitched rides until I came to Manhattan. Asked around about you, and when I got an answer, I came here. Why? Is something the matter?"

"This is going to sound weird, but do you have a tattoo on your ankle? Two Chinese symbols?"

"Those are Chinese?" She plopped her foot on his chair, the skirt she was wearing riding higher up her thigh. "What do they mean?"

"Peace and mind, love and happiness."

"Oh! Those are good things to have."

Danny licked his lips, swallowing hard. He was freaking out, and he was sure it was due to the stress of the case. "This will sound weird again, but... do you have a tattoo, right above your ass? Left side. A puzzle heart, one side blue, the other side purple? The blue has 'Danny' and the purple has 'Linda'?"

"Uh... I don't know."

"Can I check?"

"Here? In front of all these people?"

Why wasn't she protesting him looking in the first place? If she was who he thought she was, she'd protest immediately. "No, back here."

She let him take her hand, and her stomach fluttered. She followed him as they weaves through the detectives and into a back room.

"May I see now?"

"Okay." She turned around and pulled her skirt past her ass, letting rest at her thighs.

There he saw the tattoo, and the scar on her back from the bullet. He backed up until he sat on one of the cots.

She looked behind her, and pulled up her skirt. She walked over to him, "what's wrong? Are you sick?"

"I know who you are."

"Really? Who?"

"You're Linda.... my wife."

"Your wife?" She smiled widely, "alright! My name's Linda?" When he nodded, she continued, "Linda what?"

"Linda Rose O'Shea Reagan. We have two kids: Jack and Sean. Jack's in college, and Sean will graduate high school this year."

"They're so big!"

"Gentleman, too. Like you taught them."

"Danny, if I'm your wife, then why aren't I with you and our boys? Why was I-"

"In New Jersey somewhere?"

Linda nodded, sitting next to him on the cot. A warm feeling filled her chest; it was familiar and comforting, and something she hadn't felt in three years.

"You were airlifting a patient-"

"Nurses don't do that." She interrupted, "how did I know that?"

"They don't, which means the crash and everything was staged. Meaning you were kidnapped for three years, and are now back. But you've got amnesia."

"Amnesia? Is that why I can't remember anything?"

"Yes."

"Where do we live? Will you take me there? How did you know that I'm your wife?"

Danny answered the last question first. "You look exactly like my wife. Only her hair was dyed blonde, and she had cut it a little past her chin." He pushed her long brown hair behind her ear. "And the tattoos. Linda had- you have tattoos like the ones I described, and are on you. You've got a-"

"A what?"

Should he tell her about the bullet in her back? About how she was shot twice? "A scar on your back, sorta near your spine. I'd know those tattoos and scar anywhere. It was your eyes, too. My wife has the most electrifying blue eyes I have ever seen."

She looked into his eyes, again feeling the warmth in her chest, and somewhere decidedly lower. "Are you going to kiss me?"

"Oh, hell yeah." He cupped her cheek with his palm, bringing her lips to his. A sense of relief and euphoria washed over him as she kissed him back; if he had any doubt she wasn't his wife, it was gone now. No one in the world kissed him like Linda kissed him.

Linda didn't want the kiss to end; she hadn't been kissed for three years, and she didn't even remember being kissed before she was taken away from her husband. Her breathing became heavier as the kiss intensified. Reluctantly, they both pulled back for air.

"Danny, you said I was a nurse. I was wearing scrubs before I was able to shower and get a new pair of clothes."

"You were the best nurse... can I take you home?"

"Will you?"

"Yes." He left work with her, leaving no explanation with anybody as to where he had gone off to this time. The drive to the house was a little awkward- what does one say to their dead wife who's actually alive but has no memory of anything?

“Is this it?” Linda looked at the cute home when they pulled up to the driveway.

"Not much, but it's home."

"No, it's cute. Did I live here?"

He swallowed again, "no."

"How come?"

"I'll tell you later." He walked over to her, reaching for her hand.

She wouldn't let him, "tell me now."

"Our old house- there was a fire, and we lived with my Dad for a bunch of months. You died- were kidnapped May 28th. I got this place in August."

"Oh."

"C'mon," he held his hand out again, and this time she took it. "I'll show you around."

Linda listened carefully as he told the story behind the pictures to her. She was filled with love and melancholy, realizing she didn't remember the life she had.

"It looks like a nice life. I wish I could remember it."

"You will. It'll come back to you." Danny frowned when she started to cry. "Don't- don't cry. It'll be alright." He hugged her tightly, rocking her back and forth.

When her tears stopped, she quietly asked, "will you take me to the bedroom?"

Danny was surprised to hear that, even though that had been what he wanted to do ever since he discovered that Linda was alive. He led her to the bedroom without a word, and closed the door behind them out of habit. "It's lovely in here, without you."

She smiled at that, "I've missed you. I didn't even know who or what I was missing, when I was gone. But I now I know. It was you.... you protect me, don't you?"

"I didn't protect you from being taken." It was out of his mouth before he could keep it in.

"That wasn't your fault." She had no idea if that was true, but her husband needed reassurance. She stepped up to him, pressing her lips against his in a sweet kiss. She slipped her hand to the back of his head, the other one resting on his chest. The warmth inside her spread much like her husband's warm tongue in her mouth. She knew she missed this, even if she didn't remember it.

Linda moved her hands beneath his jacket, resting them on his shoulders. She took the jacket it off, and it landed on the floor in a crumpled heap. She moaned when Danny took off her cardigan, her hair getting frizzy from the dry air and static electricity.

"I was a blonde?" She nearly whispered, focusing on popping the little white buttons to his powder blue Oxford shirt.

"And a brunette some of the time. But mostly blonde." His shirt joined his jacket on the floor.

"Semper fi," she traced the inking on his chest, above his heart.

"Code of the Marines. Always faithful."

"You're a marine and a cop?"

"Ex-marine."

"Were you honorably discharged?"

Danny thought about his answer- he really wasn't. He could'nt be 'honorably discharged' if he was the only one who made it home. But he didn't want to upset his wife, so he answered, "yeah."

She traced his other tattoo, the Orange one on his right shoulder. "Linda Rose, with a rose."

"That's you." He took her blouse off, then her bra, and they were both half naked, standing in the bedroom.

As sexy as he was, standing there in no shirt and his tie still around his neck, Linda slowly started to remove the tie. "Were we kinky? Did we ever use this tie?"

He thought about being literal, telling her it wasn't that exact tie, but he decided against it. "We were fairly kinky. You liked being constrained."

"Really?"

"Mhmm."

"Interesting..." she pressed against him, sloppily undoing his belt. "Your pants sit low on your hips." With the belt discarded, she dipped her fingers into the waistband. "I like it."

Danny moaned when her hand sunk into his underwear. How he missed this, missed her! He missed everything about her, and was thoroughly convinced all this was a very vivid dream. There was no way he was this lucky, getting his supposedly dead wife back in his arms again.

Linda kissed his neck, nipping at the flesh as she unbuttoned his pants and slid the zipper down. Together they kicked their shoes off, with as much ease as they had had before she went away. If they had been sitting, drinking coffee, Danny would have to come up with the impossible task of telling the family all of it was fake. He didn't even know it was fake until an hour ago, and dare he say he was happier than the day he married the Angel?

"Linda," her name escaped his lips as her own found that spot on his neck. He felt his pants slip down to his ankles, and he stepped out of them while tugging Linda's skirt down. He picked her up slightly, away from the skirt, and sat on the bed. She straddled him, both of them in only underwear.

"Is this a rule?" She whispered nearly breathily, sending more heat through her husband's body.

"What?" He started kissing her jaw, palming her breasts with his hands. He smirked at the moan that came from her when he tugged on a pert nipple.

"The... the mutual taking off of- ah!- of clothes?" She barely got the question out, mostly focused on how she was pressed against him.

"Unwritten rule."

Her "Oh" turned into a low, dirty groan in the back of her throat as Danny's fingers tapped the front of her underwear. He dragged his finger across the dampening fabric, nipping at her collarbone. "Danny..."

"What is it? What do you want?" How easily he fell back into one of her favorite bedroom games.

"Touch me." She moved her hips, her core rubbing against his fingers. "More."

Danny obliged, feeling his underwear tighten further as he felt Linda's now wet undies. He scratched at them, pleased her eyes closed and her mouth dropped open. "Your wearing too many clothes."

As he hooked his fingers in the band of her underwear, she answered, "you too."

Clumsily, they rid of their underwear, and soon she was sitting on his lap again, fabric barriers gone. A curse fell from her lips when she felt him against her. It had been years since she was this happy, this pleasure stricken. It felt fantastic and very, very new all at the same time.

Danny's fingers found her entrance, and he teased her by doing the 'come here' gesture. She rolled her hips, signaling she wanted more. He slipped one finger inside her, then quickly added another, her choppy breaths hot against his ear. Only for a moment or two did Danny stop the movements. He faltered slightly when Linda's hand wrapped around his aching length. He moaned her name, and she kissed that spot beneath his ear, moving her hand up and down.

He had had about thirty seconds to think on how this would go. He was pleased how easily it was going, as if Linda hadn't been taken away from him at all. It had the feeling of a normal nooner. He pulled his fingers out, picking her up and laying her on the bed.

Linda attached her lips to his, her hand still pumping his length. He moaned in her throat, and she knew she was so close. Her toes curled as he started kissing his way down her body; a filthy sound came from her mouth when he pressed his lips against her heat. She was breathing through her mouth as shocks or pleasure pealed through her body, "Danny."

He lifted his head slightly, "yes?"

"I want you... inside me."

He complied, pressing himself into her until she whimpered. He stopped quickly, knowing that whimper wasn't one of pleasure. "Linda?" He swept her hair from her face.

"I... it's been a bit."

He felt stupid for not thinking about that. He found her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Tell me if it's too much?"

She nodded, squeezing his hand. They locked eyes as he slid fully into her, and for a few moments, the sting was enough to make her cry. Then she got used to it, and kissed him, murmuring into his mouth to continue.

She found her high first, screaming out his name. He followed her, the old habit of making sure she was happy first, still with him. After another round in the shower, they laid together beneath the covers.

Linda traced nonsense patterns on his chest, her eyelids getting heavy. "That was fabulous."

Danny chuckled and kissed her head. "I'm so glad you're back. You have no idea- I was..." he had wondered when the tears of joy would hit him.

Linda lifted her head, "you're sad?"

"No, I'm so happy." He crushed her against him, hugging her tightly. "You're alive, you're alive. And it's real."

#lindanny #Linda Reagan #Danny Reagan #lindanny smut #how the show should end

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allycat-writes · 5 years

Text

The Archer (Stephen Strange x Reader)

A/N: Was this requested? Absolutely not. Just another random spur of the moment idea on my way to work that I just had to write. I tried to make the reader gender neutral so hopefully it comes off that way? Also, did this get out of hand? Absolutely. Am I sorry? No. Anyways, as always, thanks to my best friend and my constant cheerleader and support @unknownauthor for everything she does. Seriously, Shay. Thank you. Ilysm. Title comes from the song The Archer by Taylor Swift.

Warnings: Swearing probably. Nothing else I can think of? Oh, mentions of violence and blood I think. Also, probably Avengers: Endgame spoilers.

Word count: 5,219.

As usual, likes are nice, reblogs are absolutely indescribably wonderful! Kisses, lovelies!

(Not my GIF)

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The second Stephen waltzed through the door, a smug and satisfied smirk on his lips, he started regaling you with how he embarrassed his fellow doctor, Dr. Nicodemus West, in front of every other doctor and nurse working the same shift as them that afternoon. He noticed your position curled up on the couch in the living area of your shared loft and a look of worry crossed his features. He crossed the room to you, kneeling down beside you to touch the skin of your forehead with the back of his hand. “Are you feeling alright, darling?”

“I feel like shit, Stephen. I think I’m dying,” you sighed, nuzzling your head against his hand. He chuckled, shaking his head at you, fondly.

“You don’t have a temperature. I’ll fetch some medicine for you to take to hopefully get you back on your feet. But perhaps you should skip tonight’s events, darling. Just to get some rest.” Stephen stood up, disappearing from the room for a moment before he returned with a bottle of medicine. He placed it on the coffee table before turning towards the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. You took the water and the pills as he offered them, gratefully.

“Definitely rather glad now that I married a doctor,” you teased, trying to sit up. Stephen helped you up, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. “But I do want to go tonight!” Your husband shook his head.

“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist that you stay here until you feel better, sorry.” You pouted, shrinking back into the couch cushion. Stephen rolled his eyes. “I do only want you to feel better, you know.”

“I know, but still. They’re going to think you’ve already offed me.” Stephen chuckled again.

“They will do no such thing. I will give them your regards and make your excuses but I really must start getting ready, my love.”

“That’s exactly what someone who committed mariticide would say…” you muttered. Stephen rolled his eyes again. You sighed, moving to lay back down on the couch, your eyes closed as Stephen made his way to the bedroom, clutching the blanket wrapped around you in your hand. You could hear him moving about the room from your spot on the couch, listening to the sound of him humming as he went about, the click of his watch drawer opening and shutting after a moment of him searching for the right watch. You heard him emerge from the room after a while and you opened your eyes to look at him. You smiled, releasing the blanket. He smiled back, giving you a slow spin so you could see the entire look. You took note of the presence of the watch you had gifted him as a wedding present only months prior, smiling softly at the sight. He crossed the room again to you, kneeling down once more to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. You sighed, reaching out to clutch at the lapel of his suit to keep him with you. He chuckled against your forehead.

“Darling, I have to go or I’ll be late. I won’t be long. Do you want me to help you to bed before I leave?” You nodded, slowly. Stephen smiled, gently lifting you into his arms. He carried you to the bed, setting you down on the bed and adjusting the covers over you. “I’ll call you on my way back so you know when to expect me home.”

“Okay. I love you, Stephen.” He smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead again.

“And I love you, darling.” He turned to leave before you called out for him. He paused at the door, turning to look back at you.

“Don’t let the attention go to your head. It’s far big enough as it is,” you teased. He rolled his eyes before stepping through the door. You laid in silence for a moment before wrapping yourself up with the blanket tighter, your eyes fluttering closed.

It felt like only minutes later, your phone started ringing. You sat up, blinking blearily at the glowing device. You hesitated for a moment at the sight of Christine Palmer’s name on the screen, expecting your husband’s name instead. “Hello?”

“Y/N. You need to get to the hospital. Now.” At the urgent edge in Christine’s voice, you threw the covers off, throwing on the first clothes you found in the darkness.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Stephen. He... He had an accident. There’s a lot of damage. He’s being airlifted in so you need to hurry.” You froze, every muscle in your body tense. You grabbed shoes, slipping them on as you hurried out the door and down to the car.

—————

You hadn’t moved from his bedside in 38 hours, Christine supplying you and ensuring you had nourishment in you. Just when you started thinking maybe she was right, maybe you should go home and shower and change out of the sweatpants and Stephen’s shirt you had thrown on in your rush, you noticed movement out of the corner of your eye. Your head swiveled over to see Stephen’s stormy gray eyes flicker open, his gaze unfocused. He tried to move his hand and you winced, flying from your seat to gently lay a hand on his arm. “Stephen. Stephen, listen to me. You can’t move your hands, honey. Please just lay still,” you begged, your voice breaking halfway through. Stephen’s eyes widened in horror as he took in his hands, the steel pins protruding from his broken hands.

“What did they do?” he whispered, his voice rough from disuse.

“They rushed you in a chopper. But it took a little while to find you.”

“What did they do?!?” he demanded, his voice level rising. Your lip started trembling at the pain lacing his voice. You turned away, covering your mouth with your hand as you tried to calm yourself.

“11 stainless steel pins in the bones. Multiple torn ligaments. Severe nerve damage in both hands. You were on the table for 11 hours,” Christine supplied from the doorway. She started into the room slowly.

“Look at these fixators.” Stephen’s eyes stayed transfixed on his hands.

“No one could have done better,” Christine murmured, coming to stand beside the bed.

“I could have done better,” Stephen whispered, his voice hard and bitter.

—————

You slipped in the door of the loft, carrying a small bag of groceries. “Hi,” you greeted Stephen, smiling softly. At his forsaken expression, your face fell. “He won’t do it.”

“He’s a hack. There’s a new procedure in Tokyo. They culture donor stem cells and then harvest them and 3D-print a scaffold. If I could get a loan together, just…” Stephen started, his voice trailing off as he turned away from you.

“Sweetheart…”

“A small loan, 200,000,” he added, shaking his head.

“Stephen. You’ve always spent money as fast as you could make it but now you’re spending money we don’t even have. Maybe it’s time to consider stopping. This isn’t helping anyone,” you tried, walking towards him. You reached for his hands but he jerked away from you. You let your hands fall to your side and tried to ignore the sting of hurt.

“No. Now is exactly the time not to stop. Because, you see, I’m not getting any better!” He held his trembling hands up, angrily.

“But this isn’t medicine anymore. This is mania. Some things just can’t be fixed, Stephen. Please.”

“Life without my work…” Stephen trailed off, his eyes focused on the city outside the window.

“Is still life, Stephen! This isn’t the end. There are other things that can give your life meaning.”

“Like what, Y/N? Like you?” You jerked back as if you had just been struck at the spite and anger in his voice, tears starting to form at the corner of your eyes. You stumbled back as your vision became watery with unshed tears. A sob ripped from your throat and you begged and pleaded internally with whatever god or deity was up there that your husband would move to comfort you as you turned away. Two minutes, maybe longer passed and the silence kept on, broken only by your infrequent cries. You turned back to see Stephen still staring out the window like a blind man trying to see.

“I—” You were broken off by another sob, your frame trembling as you cried. “How could you—” You covered your mouth to stifle your cries before you moved for the door, grabbing your coat and cellphone. You turned back one last time. Stephen hadn’t moved. “I can’t do this anymore—Not right now.” You wrenched the door open and with every step you took away, your heart broke a little more.

***********************************

It had been months since you had seen your husband. Months since you returned to the loft to find your husband gone and his phone left abandoned on the bedside table. You had just barely managed to keep the place, though most of the furniture that once decorated the space had been sold off in hopes it would help you to be able to keep the place, even with the bare minimum. You didn’t do much these days. You went to work and back home and that particular day, months after your husband had disappeared, you found yourself at home, off for the day. A noise startled you out of your trance, like the sound of a doorknob being rattled. At first, you simply wrote it off as your mind playing tricks on you. At least, until the door opened and Stephen waltzed in the door. Then you really thought you had lost all rationale. “Hello.” You stiffened at his carefree nature.

“Hello? Hello?!? You disappear for months and then waltz back in here like you’ve never been gone and all you can say is hello?!?” you exclaimed, gritting your teeth to keep from shouting at him as you leapt up from your chair. Then, at least, he finally had the sense to look at least a little sheepish.

“Darling—”

“No! You don’t get to ‘darling’ me and think it will fix everything, Stephen! I thought you were actually dead! What could you honestly have to say for yourself? And what the fuck are you wearing?” Stephen’s lip quirked up into a half smile.

“I joined a cult.” His words shocked you out of your anger.

“Wha— Stephen, please tell me that you are joking.”

“Well, yes, I was joking about the cult thing but… You might should sit down for this, darling.” You scrutinized him for a moment before he gestured a shaking hand towards the chair you had vacated. You sat down. “Well, I… I went to Katmandu.”

“You— Nepal?! Katmandu? Like the Bob Seger song?” Stephen nodded.

“1975, Beautiful Loser, side A, yeah. And yes, that would be the only one to the best of my knowledge. A place there called Kamar-Taj… I’ve been living there, trying to make my hands whole again. The Ancient One—”

“‘The Ancient One’? Fuck, Stephen, you actually joined a cult—”

“It’s not a cult. I’m studying to become a Master of the Mystic Arts.” You stared at him for a moment, hoping he would realize how ridiculous he sounded and snap out of it, but his expression remained serene. After another few minutes of you staring blankly at him, he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine. Apparently I’ll have to prove that I’m not crazy to multiple people today.” He raised his hands, one hand drawing a circle in the air while the other remained still. You yelped as orange sparks started appearing as he continued the circular motion. You blinked a few times as the living area started to fade from the center of the circle to a small, shabby-looking bedroom. Stephen lowered his hands before reaching a trembling hand out to you. You hesitated for a moment before you accepted his hand, following him through.

***********************************

“Strange!!”

You groaned, turning over to look at the clock. “Wong, it’s like 8:30 on a Saturday. Fuck off,” you called back before burying your face in the pillow. Stephen hummed in agreement, his arm tightening around your waist.

“I think you might want to get up for the day.”

“And why would I want to do that, Wong?” Stephen sighed.

“Thor Odinson might possibly be on his way here as we speak.” Stephen sat upright.

“What? Why would Thor Odinson be on his way here?”

“I may have trapped his brother in a portal when they arrived on earth.”

“Loki? You seriously trapped Loki Laufeyson in a portal?” you clarified, sitting up after a moment.

“A portal to where exactly?”

“Just a portal where he’ll continue to fall until his brother comes to collect him.”

“Fuck,” Stephen muttered, throwing the sheets off of his body to get dressed. You watched him for a moment before starting to rise to your feet. “No, stay here. Get some sleep. I’ll be back as soon as I take care of this. Stay here.” He shook his head. You rolled your eyes, settling back against your pillow as you watched him slide a shirt on, far too fascinated by the muscles moving below his skin. He turned to look at you and smirked. “Think I should get rid of the God of Thunder as soon as possible?”

“I wouldn’t complain if you did,” you replied, grinning slightly. “Otherwise I might have to start without you.” Stephen narrowed his eyes at you.

“Don’t you dare.” He crossed the room, leaning down to kiss you soundly before he started towards the door. As he opened the door, the Cloak of Levitation flew towards him, wrapping around his shoulders before the end of it flapped at you in a wave. You giggled, waving back. The door shut and you listened to the front door opening, curiously. After a moment, you climbed out of bed and slipped on a pair of Stephen’s pajama pants and a tank top. You paused at the door before slipping out. You made your way to the kitchen, winding through the familiar halls. You grabbed a mug before you started to make yourself a cup of hot chocolate. From above, you could hear thuds and muffled conversation coming from the levels above you. You listened for a moment before you started back towards Stephen’s room with your mug in hand. As you passed the downstairs entryway, Stephen appeared at your side, raising an eyebrow at you. At the sound of a thud beside you, your head swiveled over to find Thor Odinson crashing down the stairs.

“Oh my…” you whispered, your lips curving into a faint smile. Stephen rolled his eyes as he started to form a portal.

“We could have just walked,” Thor grumbled, dusting himself off as he returned to his feet. His eyes landed on you and he smiled. “Well, hello.” Stephen turned back to Thor, his eyes narrowed scarcely enough for anyone else to perceive but you knew your husband.

“He’s waiting for you.” Stephen gestured to the portal.

“Alright,” Thor murmured, nodding once as his attention turned to the portal.

“Don’t forget your umbrella,” Stephen reminded him, as though it was an afterthought.

“Oh, yes.” Thor held out his hand and you winced at the sound of distant crashing floated down the stairs. “Sorry…” Thor muttered, his expression a trifle sheepish. After another moment, the umbrella finally returned to his hand. “There we go.” Thor shook the umbrella out, shards of glass raining to the floor. You and Stephen shared an exasperated look at the mess. “I suppose I’ll need my brother back.” Stephen blinked once. He stepped in front of you slightly, shielding you before he raised a hand to form a portal in the air. You raised an eyebrow at the distant screaming coming from the portal before Loki fell to the ground.

“I have been falling for thirty minutes!” he shouted, flipping his hair back. He clambered to his feet, glaring at his surroundings. His eyes landed on Stephen and you tensed up.

“You can handle him from here,” Stephen said, completely ignoring the god.

“Yes. Of course,” Thor replied, with a nod. He reached out to shake Stephen’s hand. “Thank you very much for your help.” Stephen nodded, shaking Thor’s hand.

“Good luck.”

“Handle me? Who are you?” Loki asked, withdrawing two knives from his sleeves.

“Loki,” Thor began, his voice low with warning.

“You think you’re some kind of sorcerer? Don’t think for one minute, you second-rate…” Stephen rolled his eyes before lifting his hand.

“Yeah, alright, bye-bye,” he replied, flicking his hand and sending the portal flying towards the brothers. The portal shut and you stepped up to stand by Stephen’s side. He turned to meet your eyes before you started laughing, shaking your head. Stephen rolled his eyes, a slight smile on his lips. “Come on. Let’s get back to bed.” You nodded, taking his hand with a smile.

***********************************

You followed a casually dressed Stephen down the stairs of the Sanctum with Wong. “Seriously? You don’t have any money?” Stephen asked, turning to Wong as he reached the ground floor.

“Attachment to the material is detachment from the spiritual.” You sighed in exasperation at Wong, coming to stand beside Stephen.

“I’ll tell the guys at the deli,” he paused, smiling wryly, “Maybe they’ll make you a metaphysical ham on rye.” Stephen shot you a wink and you started to giggle.

“Oh, wait, wait, wait,” Wong started, rifling through his pockets, “I think I have two hundred.”

“Dollars?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Rupees.”

“Which is…?” Stephen sighed.

“Uh, buck and a half.” Wong shrugged. You rolled your eyes.

“What do you want?” Stephen asked, turning back towards the grand entranceway.

“I wouldn’t say no to a tuna melt.” Suddenly, something crashed through the roof of the Sanctum, landing in the stairs. The Cloak of Levitation immediately swirled around Stephen’s shoulders, now fully dressed in his mage attire. The hulking green figure began to shrink into a man as Wong and Strange ran towards him, readying themselves into defensive positions.

“Thanos is coming. He’s coming…” the man babbled. You slowly started forward to stand beside your husband as he and Wong shared a confused look. “Tony Stark. You have to find Tony Stark.” Stephen hesitated for a moment, giving Wong a meaningful look before squeezing your hand. You turned, watching as he formed a portal to Central Park, stepping through. You hurried from the room to find the man some new clothes instead of his tattered, shredded apparel. You returned, handing him the new clothes which he gratefully accepted with a small smile. “Who are you? Who is that man? What is this place?”

“I’m Y/N Strange. That man is Stephen Strange, the acting Sorcerer Supreme. Welcome to the New York Sanctum,” you replied with a soft smile. You turned away as he got dressed before he ventured towards the portal, stepping through. Stephen returned through the portal a moment later, flanked by the man who had crashed-landed in the Sanctum and Tony Stark. Tony gestured for an explanation and Stephen turned to Wong, nodding once. Wong turned, raising his hands to show the universe and five colored stones.

“From the dawn of the universe, there was nothing. Then, boom! The Big Bang sent six elemental crystals, hurtling across the virgin universe. These Infinity Stones each control an essential aspect of existence,” Wong began, his eyes fixed on the swirling image of the universe. Stephen stepped forward, his own gaze lifted upwards.

“Space. Reality. Power. Soul. Mind. And Time.” Each crystal glowed bright as Stephen named them. Stephen raised his hands, opening the Eye of Agamotto to reveal the Time Stone glowing bright. Tony Stark watched, his attention focused on the Masters of the Mystic Arts.

“Tell me his name again.”

“Thanos. He’s a plague, Tony. He invades planets. He takes what he wants. He wipes out half the population. He sent Loki. The attack on New York. That’s him.” Tony’s face paled as his friend spoke.

“This is it…” he whispered, his gaze far away. He focused back on the group in front of him. “What’s our timeline?”

“No telling. He has the Power and Space Stones, that already makes him the strongest creature in the whole universe. If he gets his hands on all six Stones, Tony…” You watched as the former-green man spoke.

“He can destroy life on a scale hitherto undreamt of,” Stephen spoke up, his tone serious. Tony started to stretch, leaning on the Cauldron of the Cosmos. You rolled your eyes.

“Did you seriously just say ‘hitherto undreamt of’?” Stephen turned to Tony.

“Are you seriously leaning on the Caldron of the Cosmos?” Stephen asked, his voice monotone.

“Is that what this is?” You stifled a giggle behind your hand as the Cloak smacked Tony’s arm, surprising him enough to stop him from leaning against the artifact. Tony’s expression shifted to one of offense and he straightened himself. “I’m going to allow that. If Thanos needs all six, why don’t we just stick this one down the garbage disposal?” Stephen rolled his eyes.

“No can do,” he replied, drily.

“We swore an oath to protect the Time Stone. With our lives,” Wong agreed. You nodded from beside Stephen.

“Okay, real quick, I get that you two are magicians or whatever I guess. But who’s the other one?” Tony asked, his gaze flickering to you.

“I don’t know if you know this or not, douchebag, but I can speak for myself. I’m Y/N Strange. And I’m still probably more intelligent than you believe yourself to be.” Stephen smirked as you glared at Tony, crossing your arms over your chest.

“So you’re not involved with any of this?”

“Aside from my husband being the man to protect the Time Stone, not much. But I sure as hell know more about any of this than you could ever dream to know and comprehend.”

“Strange, huh? Weird but whatever.” Tony turned back to Stephen and Wong. “And, anyways, I swore off dairy, but then, Ben & Jerry’s named a flavor after me, so…”

“Stark Raving Hazelnuts,” Stephen murmured.

“It’s not bad.” Stephen raised a shoulder in a half-shrug to Tony.

“A bit chalky.”

“‘A Hunka-Hulka Burning Fudge’ is our favorite,” Wong agreed.

“That’s a thing?” As you turned to look at the man, it hit you. Bruce Banner. Of course he was!

“Whatever. Point is: things change.”

“Our oath to protect the Time Stone cannot change. This Stone may be the best chance we have against Thanos.”

“And still conversely, it may also be his best chance against us,” Tony countered, raising an eyebrow at Stephen.

“Well, if we don’t do our jobs.” Tony rolled his eyes at Stephen.

“What is your job exactly, besides making balloon animals?” Tony asked, condescension dripping from his words. Stephen turned to examine Stark evenly.

“Protecting your reality, douchebag.” You grinned.

“Okay, guys, could we table this discussion right now? The fact is that we have this Stone. We know where it is. Vision is out there somewhere with the Mind Stone, and we have to find him now.” Bruce shook his head.

“Oh, this should be good,” you muttered, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that's the... thing,” Tony started, awkwardly.

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked, examining Tony.

“Two weeks ago, Vision turned off his transponder. He's offline.”

“What? Tony, you lost another super bot?”

“I didn't lose him. He's more than that. He's evolving,” Tony rebutted.

“Who could find Vision, then?” Stephen asked, rolling his eyes.

“Shit,” Tony muttered before raising his voice to speak to the others in the room, “Probably Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, great,” Stephen sighed, scowling slightly.

“Maybe. But…” Tony sighed.

“Call him,” Bruce started, his expression confused.

“It's not that easy. God, we haven't caught up in a spell, have we?” Tony started, shaking his head slightly.

“No,” Bruce replied, shaking his head.

“The Avengers broke up. We're toast.” You snorted, rolling your eyes. Bruce deflated, his expression a mixture of confusion and disappointment.

“Broke up? Like a band? Like The Beatles?” Tony shrugged.

“Cap and I fell out hard. We're not on speaking terms.”

“Tony, listen to me. Thor's gone. Thanos is coming. It doesn't matter who you're talking to or not,” Bruce pleaded. Tony hesitated for a moment, before pulling out an ancient looking flip-phone.

Tony muttered “Flip phone,” before his finger started hovering over the “call” button. He paused, looking around as the ground started rumbling softly below their feet. “Say, Doc, you wouldn't happen to be moving your hair, would you?” Tony asked, his eyes fixed on Stephen’s hair. You turned your head to look at your husband, his hair fluttering ever so slightly.

“Not at the moment…” Stephen paused, his eyes raised to focus on the lock of hair as well, “no.” You glanced up, through the hole in the Sanctum roof to find debris floating by outside. Tony started to the door first, Bruce following close behind. Wong glanced at Stephen before moving towards the door. You reached out, grabbing Stephen’s trembling hands.

“Stephen, look at me,” you whispered, worry clear in your voice. He looked over at you, his expression soft. “Please. Be careful. They’re coming directly for you. Please don’t do anything dramatic or stupid. Come back to me,” you pleaded. Stephen scoffed.

“Me? Do anything dramatic or stupid? When would I ever?”

“Literally all the time. Every day. It’s not an uncommon thing for you.” Stephen smiled. He leaned in to kiss you, pulling your body flush against his.

“I will come back to you. I will do everything in my power to come back to you. But you must leave here. I’ll try to lure them away. Please go back to the loft. Wait for me there. I’ll tell Bruce where you are if need be. Please be safe, okay? You are not allowed to leave me either,” he replied, his voice gentle after he pulled away.

“Please hurry. I’ll be waiting for you. Be safe, Stephen,” you agreed, stepping back once he raised his hands to form a portal to the living room of your shared loft. You stepped through before turning to look at him, one final time, worry coiled like a snake in the pit of your stomach. He smiled, the same soft smile he reserved only for you. The portal shut and you stood there alone in silence to await his return.

***********************************

You sit at the kitchen table, stirring your spoon in your coffee lazily. It’s quiet, shockingly so but it is always too quiet now. Nothing like the hustle and bustle of what used to be New York.

A knock sounds on the door and you sigh in exasperation. It happens, far too often for your liking. People knocking on the door of your loft, hoping you aren’t there so they can claim it as their own. “For the last time! Someone actually lives here.” The hallway is quiet for a moment before you hear a key in the lock and the sound of the door opening. You tense up, your mind racing. Maybe someone was able to get a key from the office somewhere and they don’t care if you’re there or not. You slowly turn around to face the door and your breath catches in your chest. Stephen stands on the threshold on the door, battered and bloodied, but alive just the same. A sob tears from your throat as you fling yourself out of the chair to run to him. He catches you easily, steadying you before wrapping his arms around you, wincing a bit at his injuries.

“I’m here. I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his shaking fingers combing gently through your hair as you try to calm yourself.

“How— What— Stephen, what the fuck just happened? How—” you start, your mind reeling at the sight of your husband after five years.

“I promise I will explain everything but first I might need some assistance,” he promises, releasing you to stumble into the loft. You wrap an arm around him to help shoulder his weight before you sit him on the couch and run to find first-aid supplies.

“Okay, what do I do, Stephen?” you ask, kneeling down beside him.

“I have a few lacerations but they will heal. Do we have any old newspapers? Or a towel?” You nod before running to grab some old newspapers and a towel. “Okay, roll the newspaper up. Grab a bandage and a square of gauze.” You do as you’re told, applying the bandage and gauze to his injured arm. “Place the newspaper under my forearm and tape it at the top and the bottom of the newspaper. In the middle, it will only cause more damage to my arm.” You nod, grabbing the tape and securing the newspaper to his arm, making sure not to cut off the circulation of his arm.

“Are you hurt anywhere else? What do you need me to do?” Stephen shakes his head, leaning it back on the couch to rest his eyes.

“Everything else is minor and will heal on its own.” He lifts his head, turning to look at you as you sit on his right side, away from his injured arm. You gingerly rest your head on his shoulder, curling into his side.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice soft.

“The only way to stop Thanos was to sacrifice myself until the others could right his wrongs. They were able to use quantum physics to return to the past, recollect the time stones, make their own gauntlet and snap their own fingers to return everyone that had been lost. Thanos followed them from another past and tried to redo the snap. We fought them and we won. Because of Tony Stark.” You sat in silence for a moment, thinking back to the day when you had learned of Thanos. “How long did you wait?” Stephen’s soft voice breaks you out of the memory, as vivid as the day it happened five years ago. You laugh softly.

“I never truly stopped waiting. I hoped every time I heard a noise or someone by the door that it would be you. Waltzing in like nothing ever happened. Like you always did,” you admit. Stephen hums softly.

“I would say I had hoped you had moved on, but I am still a selfish man. I’m glad that I got to come back to a world where you are still mine,” Stephen replies, letting out a deep breath.

“Come on, Stephen. Let’s get you to bed.” You stand up from your spot, turning to help him up. Stephen smirks.

“Why, Y/N Strange, are you trying to seduce me?” You roll your eyes.

“Okay, first, you say that like it would be a challenge. Second, you’re much too injured for anything of the sort. I’m gonna need your arm to heal fairly soon though. You know how fond of your hands I am.” Stephen chuckles, wrapping an arm around you as you lead him to the bedroom. After five years, you finally felt whole again.

----------------------------------

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biillyhargroves · 5 years

Note

hello, I'm the one who made the fic rec you mentioned. :) So, my idea is basically this: Billy survives the mindflayer incident but just barely and Steve becomes super worried/protective of him while he's recovering. He even has nightmares and wakes up needing to reassure himself that Billy is alive. I just want all the angst basically. lol

Hello, friend!! Thank you so much for resending, I’m so pumped to write this one!!

i felt it too(fic requests open)

Steve didn’t see it happen.

He saw the blood. He saw Max crying. He saw paramedics swarming like bees around a broken body, saw the bloodied, sweat-soak rag of a shirt cut away and saw fists pound on a chest that was barely held together. He saw Mike and Eleven ushered away, saw them vanish in the sea of flashing lights outside as more ambulances and fire engines and police cruisers flood the parking lot. He saw tubes and wires and gauze attached to the source of her deepest hurt and he felt his heart sink when Billy Hargrove is strapped, limp and lifeless, onto a stretcher.

“I have to go with him,” Max starts to say, rising even as medics try to bandage her cuts and scrapes. Steve can hear her as he rushes down the stairs. He sees her shaking an EMT off her and straining to get closer to Billy as he is carried outside. “You can’t just take him. Billy! I have to go with him. He’s my brother! He’s my brother!”

As Billy is lifted into the back of an ambulance, one sympathetic medic offers her hand. Steve catches her eye just before the doors swing shut.

Billy is brought to Hawkins Mercy Hospital, where he is quickly evaluated and airlifted to a larger facility in Chicago and rushed into surgery. The papers talk about a single teenage victim left in “critical condition” following the Starcourt fire, but don’t mention Billy by name- his father won’t allow it. The family has moved into a motel on the outskirts of the hospital grounds, and Neil is giving reporters hell. He won’t talk to anyone, and he won’t let Susan or Max talk, either. If Billy wanted to talk, he couldn’t. He’s been in a medically induced coma since his surgery. Neil has used the money he hasn’t spent on the motel room and Billy’s care on a private investigator to find out what really happened, unconvinced that the gashes all over his body could really be from a fire.

“He doesn’t even care,” Max says over radio static. “Not about Billy. He just wants someone to sue, so he can get paid.”

Steve has taken to camping out by Cerebro. The kids kept him company for the first few days, but the novelty of sleeping under the stars wore off quickly. Steve, for his part, has not done much sleeping. Whenever he tries, all he can see is Billy’s body, sweat-drenched and sickly, being carted away under sirens. He dreams about worse outcomes: about the heart monitor flatlining, about Billy bleeding out on the tiled floor, about Billy’s veins going black and that thing ripping him to pieces from the inside out.

One night, he dreams about Billy sleeping beside him. He feels Billy’s breath against his skin and his arms around his middle. He has scars were all his wounds were, and Steve is afraid to touch them. He is studying them when Billy becomes restless; he tosses and turns like he’s having a nightmare, and as he moves his scars start to open. Blood spills from their seams and soaks Billy’s shirt, and then the sheets, and it gets all over Steve’s hands as he tries to staunch the bleeding. He is desperate, frantic, but he does not work fast enough. He thinks that all of Billy’s blood is on his bedroom floor and when he looks at Billy’s face he knows he’s gone and-

Steve wakes with a scream. His heart pounds so hard he can feel it in his throat. He tries his best to swallow it back down and he frantically grabs for Cerebro’s receiver.

“Max?” he asks, voice bleary and shaky. “Max, are you there?”

There is some feedback and then a soft click.

“What the shit?” Max whispers.

“It’s Steve.”

“I know,” Max says. “What are you doing?”

“I know,” Steve groans. “I know, it’s late. I’m sorry. I just- is Billy okay?”

“He’s been sedated for a week, he’s got a tube shoved down his throat, and he’s peeing into a plastic bag,” Max says. “So, he’s not great.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I’m sorry. I know.”

There’s a long stretch of silence before Max says, “The nurses are talking about taking the breathing tube out. If he can breathe on his own, they think they can wake him up soon.” When Steve doesn’t say anything, she continues, "Neil wants him out of here.” After another long pause, she says, “He...he looks like shit, Steve. He looks-”

“Don’t say it,” Steve says. “Don’t say what I think you’re gonna say.”

"I have to go,” Max says.

“Wait!” Steve says. “Max?”

“What?”

“Just...promise me you’ll tell me if anything changes?”

“I already said I would.”

“Good or bad,” Steve says.

“Good or bad,” Max agrees. “Signing off.”

It’s another few days before Billy is taken off his breathing tube, and a few days more before Max says he’s woken up. The news makes Steve’s heart jump.

“He’s pretty out of it,” Max says. “He can’t stay awake for long. He’s, like, in and out right now. He’s still all fucked up on pain meds. But the doctor said he’s stable enough to be transferred.”

“What does that mean?” Steve asks.

“We’re coming back to Hawkins.”

On the day that Billy is returned in Hawkins Mercy Hospital, the kids make a trip to see Max. Steve chauffeurs, only to be disappointed to be directed to Cherry Lane instead of the hospital. He hangs out long enough to get an update: Billy still sleeps most of the day, he’s rarely coherent when he is awake, but the doctors are happy with his progress and his father is trying to get him discharged.

“They can’t let him go, can they?” Steve asks, worry gripping him so hard it hurts his chest. “They wouldn’t do that, would they? They can’t let him go if he’s still like that?”

“I don’t know,” Max says. “I mean, the infection’s cleared. His stitches aren’t out yet, and they have him on this feeding tube. His doctor doesn’t want to let him go, but Neil keeps talking about home care, so...I don’t know.”

That night, Steve has another nightmare. He sees Billy in his bedroom on Cherry Lane, but there is an IV pole and a whole array of tubes attached to him- digging into his stomach and stuck up his nose and poked in the crook of his arm. There are little circles stuck in the spots of his chest that aren’t covered in gauze and their gray wires lead to a machine that prints his heart rhythms on a strip of tape. Steve watches the tiny needle print shaky little lines.

He approaches Billy, his heart hammering, but as he gets closer he sees another figure in the room. There is a shadow that falls over Billy and Steve feels a need to hide. He presses himself against the wall and he watches as the shadow turns into Billy’s father. He is yelling, but Steve can’t make out what he’s saying. When Neil Hargrove raises a fist, Steve panics. He lunges forward, but it is as if there is a forcefield surrounding Billy’s room. Steve tries to scream, but everything he wants to shout gets stuck in his throat: don’t touch him, get away from him, leave him alone. Steve fights and fights in vain, and the little needle tracking Billy’s heart rate trembles when Neil strikes his son.

Steve’s eyes pop open.

He is soaked in sweat and his heart is throbbing in his ears. He looks to the clock and the little red numbers blink out two sixteen a.m. Steve scrubs his palms over his eyes. He sighs. He throws his blankets off and pulls on shoes, not bothering to tie them as he grabs his keys and forces his bedroom window open. As carefully as he can, Steve clamors down to the ground and sneaks into the driveway. He slips around his father’s car and ducks into his own, speeding off without a clear plan in mind.

The hospital comes into view before Steve realizes where he’s headed. His is the only car in visitor parking, and the halls are empty when he goes inside. He uses to stairwells to get to Billy’s floor (which he had guessed about, because Max had said he’d moved from Intensive Care to the recovery wing of the Medical-Surgical unit). He sneaks passed the nurse’s station and whispers Billy’s name over and over again as he reads the little tags outside the door.

“Hargrove, Hargrove, Hargrove,” he repeats like a mantra until the name on the door matches the one on his tongue.

The door is open a crack, and its hinges squeak when Steve pushes on it. The lights are off save for one thin strip buzzing softly over Billy’s head and the little green and red numbers boasting his heart rate and oxygen levels.

Billy himself looks small, swallowed up by the white hospital sheets and the machines towering around him and all the bandages and stitches wound around him and holding him together. There is a plastic strip feeding oxygen into his nose and heart leads stuck to his chest. A little white clip is clamped loosely on one finger, and a thick plastic tube snakes out from beneath the blanket near his belly. His lips are chapped and parted and his eyelids flutter as he sleeps. The sight of him makes Steve ache. He hovers in the doorway, afraid to go closer. When he finally does approach Billy, Steve is afraid to touch him. He is terrified to hurt him. He pulls a vinyl-padded chair closer to Billy’s bedside and sits.

“Billy?” Steve stammers. “I don’t know if you can hear me.”

He raises a shaky hand to take Billy’s, mindful of the IV feeding fluids into his veins.

“I needed to see you,” Steve says. “I’m sorry I haven’t come.” Steve gently squeezes Billy’s hand. His eyes flit to the heart monitor, which tracks a strong and steady beat. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and I just...God, you’d call me a pussy if you heard me right now, but I just really needed to see that you were safe. And alive. And I really need you to stay that way. Okay? I need you to be okay. Please, just...please be okay.”

#harringrove #harringrove fic #stranger things fic #harringrove fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #billy hargrove #steve harrington #lex writes fics #omgdudechillout #answered #I hope this is ok!!!#I can always add on :)#bc honestly this was a lot of fun

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thiswhatgodfeelslike · 5 years

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a lot of kids right after highschool or even during highschool will start to experiment on drugs which is cool yeah okay, but you also never know how they will affect you until after you do them!! so its important to do research it really is. i tried psychedelics on impulse with my friends after working all night. so i come home around midnight, and me and 3 other people did it. I felt it coming an hour later. At first it was such a good experience. we were all laughing so hard we were crying. my friend ethan took his first about 30 min before us. He felt ot coming before us. As it was coming he kind of freaked out and started having a bad trip off the bat. I remember he was telling us, dont do this, throw up right now, you dont wanna feel like this, so that kind of freaked everyone one out. His brother was addicted to airduster and died in a car crash must i add. & so he lived through that and was trippin thinking he was being airlifted and literally gonna die. He called his mom but our trip setter said it was a buttdail and hung up LOL. Anyway after a couple hours he came out of that bad time and 'woke up' like nothing happened. Still trippin, he started talking about time and how everything is a loop and that its not real. I started to laugh, and then i was hysterically crying. My friend Bryce who wasnt on anything tried to help me. I asked if he would go upstairs with me because downstairs wasnt a good setting for me at that time. Upstairs, it was dark. He was trying to comfort me the best he could. I started seeing things. I already was seeing things and patterns. But i started seeing bad things. Bugs, all over the walls. Things crawling all over me. I was terrified. I finally ran out of the room and almost fell down the stairs on my way out because i was scared. I walked outside for a bit. It was beautiful and i felt at peace again. Its about 5am now and everyone was trying to sleep. Me and zack went upstairs to sleep in bryces bed. He fell asleep almost instantly, as did everyone else downstairs... no matter how hard i tried to sleep i couldnt. I closed my eyes and my momd took over so i tried to stay up for that reason. I was laying there looking at everything in the room, a stuffed plush turtle was on the bed and it started to swom around the room. I remember asking fairly loudly , can anyone here me.. is anyone awake... no answers. I was laying there in bed telling myself outloud, 'i am never doing this again. Hope- dont do this again. You know what you feel like right now and you dont want this. Please dont do this again'. Bryce had a bathroom in his bedroom so i took a journey there. And thats when i just looked at myself and my face was so disoriented. It was so weird. I dont know why i did, maybe i thought i would be sobered up if i seen some sort of 'reality'. I was there forever it seemed like. Just looking at myself and i didnt like what i saw. 8am rolls around and everyone wakes up. Their trip is over. I am still awake, 24ish hours at this point. Im still not here. I still see things. Every word i attempted to say just didnt sound right to me. I didnt feel like myself. I do believe i killed myself or whoever i was on the inside after that. We walk downstairs and ethan takes me & zack with him to get food. Walking outside, just looking around at what we think is reality. I didnt see it. There was no reality for me. We get im his truck and start driving. The world is so crazy and fake. Thats all i remember thinking. We got pulled over because i didnt have a seatbelt on. Talking to the cop was the biggest challenge i have faced i swear to god. I felt like he knew i wasnt really there. Like he knew i knew i am retarded and that reality isnt real. Anyway. I never paid that ticket.

1 year later

me and zack move out to a 1 bedroom apartment. Bryce, dion, and tim came over. They all wanted to do shrooms. Ofcourse i said no at first because i remember what i told myself out loud. And i knew i didnt want to expierence that again. I kept getting, cmon shrooms are way different, they wont be as strong. So i said ok. We took the shrooms and mixed them up with lemon juice and took a shot. I only did 3 grams. We drive around immediately after and they start to hit as we're driving. I was telling myself in my head, its okay. Its okay. Its okay. This is gonna be a good trip. We go to a park and walk around. Everything was so vivid and bright and so fucking beautiful. We're there for an hour or two. We smoke 2 blunts. It was fun. I liked it at the park. We go home early. A tiny one bedroom apartment with 5 people in it. As im walking up the apartment stairs i started to notice things that were entering my mind. It wasnt good. Call it an anxiety attack. But tripping. After sitting on the couch as long as i could i go to the bed and lay down. I get scared. So terrifed. Why am i thinking what im thinking. I try to act normal. I lay in bed alone and do what i would usually do. Then i asked myself what the FUCK would i usually do. I yelled for zack. He came. I started talking about so much but mainly what i was exactly thinking at that moment. I was saying everything that was entering my mind idk why but i was. " i want to kill myself " and that was fucking it. "Can you please shoot me i cant take this. This is too much i dont want to live here anymore i cant do this" maybe i was thinking that because i lied to myseld and i did it again. I did psychedelics again. After i begged myself to never do it. I threw up. After a couple hours in the bathroom trying to think of how i can possibly shoot my brains out because i couldnt take it. It was mental torture. I was already killing myself by doing the shrooms and i think i knew it deep down. anyway after some hours I layed down at 8pm and falling alseep was the hardest thing ever.. but i managed. I woke up the next day and let me tell you guys. I will never be the same. Its like, multiple illnesses seeped out from the depths and theyre with me every goddamn day. I feel the same urges and tendencies as i did when i freaked out. A simple stomach ache will trigger it. Sometimes weed will trigger it. Just dont fucking do psychedelics if you dont know anything about them, about yourself, or about family history of mental illnesses. I discovered too much for my own good and im stuck like this forever.

#lsd trip #my lsd trip #shrooms #drugs #mental ill health #mental breakdown #mental health #mental instability #therapy

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bamby0304 · 5 years

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The Hart III: Secrets

Chapter Three- Ghosts and Dead Hunters

Series Masterlist

Summary: Three months… Dean was gone for three months and now he’s back. He’s back and he truly has no idea how much things have changed. Life moved on while Dean was in Hell, and now things are complicated. With new faces and troubles right around the corner, will the trio find a way to come back together? Or has all hope been lost?

Warnings: Angst. Slight violence.

Bamby

EPOV

I sat on the couch in Bobby's study, flicking through a book while watching my phone, waiting for it to light up and tell me I had a message. I was still freaked after meeting the angel the other day, and wanted to get out on my own for a while. Well… kind of. It's a long story...

Reaching over to my bag, I opened the small bottle that sat inside and poured a pill into my palm. Grabbing the glass of water that sat on the floor by me, I took a sip and put the pill in my mouth before swallowing. The sound of the two Winchester brothers arguing in the kitchen caught my attention as the pill slid down my throat.

"Well, then tell me what else it could be." Sam believed Castiel had been an angel, but Dean didn't.

"Look, all I know is I was not groped by an angel." Dean sounded so sure of himself.

"Okay, look, Dean. Why do you think this Castiel would lie to you about it?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe he's some kind of demon. Demons lie."

"A demon who's immune to salt rounds and devil's traps... and Ruby's knife? Dean, Lilith is scared of that thing!" Sam had a good point.

"Don't you think that if angels were real, that some hunter somewhere would have seen one... at some point... ever?"

"Yeah. You just did, Dean."

Dean sighed. "I'm trying to come up with a theory here. Okay? Work with me."

Sam shook his head. "Dean, we have a theory."

"Yeah, one with a little less fairy dust on it, please."

"Okay, look. I'm not saying we know for sure. I'm just saying that I think we-"

Dean cut him off, "Okay, okay. That's the point. We don't know for sure, so I'm not gonna believe that this thing is a freaking Angel of the Lord because it says so!"

Rolling his eyes, Bobby looked up from the book he'd been reading and called out to the two brothers, "You two chuckleheads want to keep arguing religion, or do you want to come take a look at this?"

Reluctantly, both walked over to stand in front of the desk Bobby sat at.

Once they were in front of him, Bobby got to work. "I got stacks of lore. Biblical, pre-Biblical. Some of it's in damn cuneiform. It all says an angel can snatch a soul from the pit."

"What else?" Dean asked.

Bobby frowned up at him, confused. "What else, what?"

"What else could do it?"

"Airlift your ass out of the hot box?" Bobby shook his head. "As far as I can tell, nothing."

Looking over at Dean it was clear he didn't like the answer. I wasn't sure why this was bugging him so much, but clearly it was.

"Dean, this is good news," Sam assured him, smiling.

But it didn't seem to ease Dean's mind at all. "How?"

"Because for once, this isn't just another round of demon crap." Sam shrugged. "I mean, maybe you were saved by one of the good guys, you know?"

"Okay. Say it's true. Say there are angels. Then what? There's a God?"

"I'm putting my money on yes," I spoke up, pulling myself up from the couch and moving to the brothers.

Dean turned and took a few steps away from us, still not buying it. "I don't know, guys."

Sam sighed, watching his brother. "Okay, look. I know you're not all choirboy about this stuff, but this is becoming less and less about faith and more and more about proof."

"Proof?" Dean turned back to us.

"Yes." Sam gave a short nod.

"Proof that there's a God out there that actually gives a crap about me personally? I'm sorry, but I'm not buying it."

I frowned. "Why not?"

Looking to each of us, Dean sighed before he answered. "Because why me? If there is a God out there, why would he give a crap about me?"

"Dean-"

He cut Sam off, "I mean, I've saved some people, okay? I figured that made up for the stealing and the ditching chicks. But why do I deserve to get saved? I'm just a regular guy."

I could not believe what I was hearing. I mean, I knew Dean didn't think much about himself, but I never thought it was like this. Dean was one of the most loyal people I knew. He cared about others, did the best he could, and hardly ever put himself first. He was one of the best people I knew.

"Apparently, you're a regular guy that's important to the man upstairs," Sam told him.

"Well, that creeps me out. I mean, I don't like getting singled out at birthday parties, much less by... God."

Shrugging, Sam folded his arms over his chest. "Okay, well, too bad, Dean, because I think he wants you to strap on your party hat."

"Fine." Sighing, Dean turned to Bobby. "What do we know about angels?"

Bobby reached over and slid a large pile of old books on to the middle of his desk. "Start reading."

Looking at the pile of books, Dean shook his head as he turned to his brother, not liking this at all. "You're gonna get me some pie." There was no room for discussion as he grabbed a book from the pile and moved over to the couch.

SPOV

I stopped the Impala outside a corner store, putting the car into park as I spoke on the phone. "Yes, Dean, I'll get the chips."

"And don't forget my pie."

"Dude. When have I ever forgotten the pie?"

There was a pause before he answered, as if he had to think about it. "Never."

"Exactly." Getting out of the car, I turned to the shop, only to stop when I spotted Ruby waiting. "I got to go." He kept on talking but I didn't really hear him. "Yeah, all right. Bye." hanging up, I walked over to Ruby. "Ruby."

She pushed off the wall she'd been leaning on, skipping the pleasant greeting and getting straight to business. "So, is it true?"

I had no idea what she was going on about. "Is what true?"

"Did an angel rescue Dean?"

"You heard."

"Who hasn't?"

"We're not one hundred percent sure, but I think so."

"Okay. Bye, Sam." She suddenly turned and went to walk away.

I grabbed her arm before she could leave, stopping and turned her to face me. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait. What's going on?"

"Sam, they're angels. I'm a demon. They're not gonna care if I'm being helpful. They smite first, and then they ask questions later."

"What do you know about them?"

"Not much. I've never met one, and I don't really want to. All I know is that they scare the holy hell out of me. Watch yourself, Sam."

I laughed lightly. "I'm not scared of angels."

She gave me a look I couldn't quite read but I thought I saw hurt, maybe worry, before she walked off, leaving me alone.

I pulled up by Bobby's garage, seeing him walking over to the car. Once he reached me, he leaned into the passenger window. "Keep the engine running."

"Why?" I looked over at Dean and Lizzie as they put some bags into the trunk of Bobby's car. "What's going on?"

"I got a friend one state over. Olivia Lowry. I've been trying to reach her for three days on this angel thing. It's not like her to ignore this many calls."

"Olivia Lowry. A hunter, right?"

"Yeah." He nodded. "We're gonna go check on her. You guys follow me." He pulled back as the others came over to the car.

Lizzie got in the back as Dean moved to my door. "Scoot over."

"Yeah." I did as he said, moving to the passenger side.

Getting into the car, he reached for the bag of food before his door was even closed. Looking in, he didn't seem too pleased. "Dude?"

"Yeah?" I asked, wondering what might be wrong.

"Where's the pie?"

DPOV

Bobby entered the house first. I was next, the Lizzie, then Sam. We all had our weapons raised, ready just in case. Bobby had been worried, and none of us were taking that lightly.

"Olivia?" Bobby called, walking further into the house.

We all stopped when we entered the living room, seeing the body of a woman- who I presumed was Olivia- lying on the floor, covered in blood.

Bobby turned and walked out of the place before anyone could stop him.

I was about to call out to him when I saw the look on Liz's face. She looked horrified, on the edge of tears as her eyes refused to look away from the scene in front of her. That's when it clicked.

"You knew her?"

She nodded slowly. "Hunted with her and Bobby once or twice."

Sometimes I forgot that Liz had known Bobby longer than we'd known her. He saved her years ago, during a case that almost killed her and gave her the scar she had on her ribs. He took care of her for a few years when she was a teenager. He was the one who taught her how to hunt.

The fact she knew Olivia wasn't really a surprise. She'd met a lot of hunter while working and living with Bobby.

Out of instinct, I stepped closer to her. "I'm sorry." I was just about to wrap an arm around her in a comforting hug, when Sam spoke up.

"Salt line." He nodded to the doorway of the bedroom where Olivia's body was.

Sure enough, a line of salt ran across the length of the door way.

Liz walked away from me then, stepping into the room and moving to the wardrobe that had a hidden compartment where some weapons had bene stashed.

I followed her, grabbing an EMR reader from the stash. "Olivia was rocking the EMF meter."

Sam nodded, crouching down by the body. "Spirit activity."

"Yeah, on steroids. I never seen a ghost do this to a person." I gestured to the body, where the ghosts had ripped Olivia's chest open and ripped out her heart.

Bobby walked back into the apartment, stopping in the bedroom doorway, his phone in his hand.

I looked him up and down, knowing something other than Olivia's body was worrying him. "Bobby, you all right?"

"I called some hunters nearby..."

"Good." I nodded. "We can use their help."

"Except they ain't answering their phones either."

Sam stood from where he'd been checking the body out. "Something's up, huh?"

Liz tensed beside me. "You think something's going after hunters?"

Sam turned to her suddenly. "Lizzie-"

Before he could finish, Liz pulled out her phone and started dialling a number. Lifting it to her ear, she waited a moment before her face fell. She tried dialling again, but there was still no answer.

There were a number of hunters she could have been calling. I knew she knew a lot of hunter. I also knew she was friends with a number of them- but not all. The two that were the most important and not in this room being Jo and Ellen.

She kept trying as she hurried out of the apartment, clearly stressing and worrying more than before.

EPOV

I was on the phone to Bobby, walking down the porch stairs of a Jed's house. He was a hunter I'd met twice. He'd been a pretty decent guy and a pretty decent hunter. That was until his chest was ripped open and his heart was ripped out.

"Jed's gone too, Bobby. Have you heard from-"

He cut me off, "I talked to Ellen and Jo. They're both fine. I told them both to hunker down until we figure this thing out."

"Thank god." I let out a sigh of relief. "What about you? How's your end of things?"

"I checked on Carl Bates and R.C. Adams. They've redecorated… in red."

I came to a stop by Baby, the brother's moving to their doors. "Bobby, what is going on? What, did a ghost decide to start ganking hunters? Knock us off one by one?"

"I don't know, but until we find out, you guys better get your asses to my place."

"We're on our way." Hanging up, I got into the car, looking over at Dean as he sat behind the wheel. "Bobby wants us to head over to his. Everyone he went to is dead as well."

Shaking his head, Dean turned the ignition on. "What the hell is going on here?"

Dean was fast asleep in the passenger seat while Sam now drove us down the road. I was still in the back, looking out the window while also concentrating on my phone in my hand, waiting for a call or message.

My attention was pulled to Sam as he turned into a service station and stopped the car by the pumps.

"Hey." He turned around to look at me. "I gotta go to the bathroom, you mind-"

"Filling her up?" I gave a short nod. "Sure."

I got out of the car and moved to put some gas in Baby, while Sam headed over to the toilets. As I waited for the car to fill up I watched Dean in the passenger seat, still asleep, his head leaning on the door. He looked adorable sleeping like that...

A buzzing in my pocket had me quickly pulling out my phone to read the message.

Don't know why you're worried, but I'm fine. Just working a case. I'll talk to you when I'm done. Don't forget to take your medication. Love you xox

- T

The worry I'd been feeling all day eased at that one message.

He's fine. I nodded. See, he's fine.

But just as I was beginning to feel relieved, the sound of a commotion in the bathroom pushed all the worry back into place. Sam...

Hitting the roof of Baby, I woke Dean up before moving to pull the pump out of the car.

"What the hell, Liz?"

"Sam needs help!" I told him as I started rushing towards the bathroom, knowing Dean would be right behind me.

SPOV

I was washing my hands in the bathroom sink when the room suddenly went cold. Looking up at the mirror in front of me I found it was covered with a foggy mist caused by the sudden temperature change.

Well, this can't be good...

Lifting a hand, I wiped away some of the mist, jumping at the sight of a young woman behind me.

She smiled, shifting on the spot a little. "Hi, Sam."

It took a second, because of the change in hairstyle and clothes, but as I turned to face her, recognised who was standing in front of me. "Meg."

She nodded, gesturing to her hair- which was longer than her blonde pixie cut from before, and now more of a honey colour. "This is what I looked like before that demon cut off my hair and dressed me like a slut. Before it took over my body. Before I died."

Looking her up and down, I shook my head, feeling so guilty about everything that happened to her. "I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"Look, if we'd known-"

"You wouldn't have left me to die? You wouldn't have let that monster do all those things while in my body? You wouldn't have killed me?!" She lunged forward, grabbing and throwing me across the room.

I crashed into some old lockers, but didn't even have time to fall to the ground before Meg was there, grabbing me, holding me up. As she gripped onto my jacket I looked down and noticed a mark on her hand, but didn't have much time to think about it before she shoved me against a wall and then threw me against the mirror.

The mirror smashed as I hit it. Meg grabbed me again, knocking my head on the sink twice. The force of the hits caused my head to go foggy as a pain shot through me. Tossing me to the ground, she looked over me as if ready to finish the job.

"Hey, bitch!" Lizzie called.

Meg only had a moment to react before Lizzie threw her across the room- using her abilities. Dean- who had been a couple steps behind Lizzie- lifted his gun and shot Meg, sending the ghost away.

DPOV

Speeding down the road, phone pressed to my ear, I shook my head at the fact Bobby still wasn't answering his phone. "Damn it, Bobby! Pick up!" I snapped, hanging up. Sam side next to me, catching my attention. "How you feeling, huh? How many fingers am I holding up?" I asked, without lifting a hand

"None. I'll be fine, Dean," he insisted, sounding annoyed that I kept asking. But I was worried. It was my job to worry about him.

Liz leaned forward so her head was between Sam's and mine. "Who was the chick, anyway?"

"Meg," Sam answered without missing a beat.

I frowned, grabbing my phone to try and call Bobby again. "Meg? The demon?"

"No." Sam sighed again. "Meg Masters, the girl the demon possessed."

"Why her?" I didn't get it. She died years ago. "What did she want?"

"Revenge, 'cause we got her killed." It really sounded like he believed that.

"Sam."

He shrugged at me. "Well, we did, Dean."

Hanging up the phone once more, I shook my head as I turned to him. "All right. Stop right there. Whatever the hell is going on, it's happening to us now, okay? I can't get a hold of Bobby, so if you're not thinking answers, don't think at all."

There was already enough crap surrounding us, the last thing we needed was for some old guilt to poke it's head up and distract us. Right now, we need to focus on making sure Bobby was okay and then figure out what's killing hunters.

EPOV

Dean entered the house first, I was second, followed by Sam, all of us armed and ready. We stopped in the entrance, looking around, trying to listen out for any sounds. When the place stayed silent and still, Dean called out in a whispered tone.

"Bobby?"

With no answer, the three of us moved together, heading over to the kitchen and then to the study, making sure to keep our eyes open for anything. That Meg chick would show up again eventually.

After the study we stepped into the hall way which is where we found an iron poker lying on the ground by the bottom of the stairs.

My heart began to race as I pictured Bobby lying somewhere, just like we'd found Olivia and Jed.

Dean turned to Sam and I, taking charge of the situation. "You two check outside. I'll go upstairs."

There was no need for me to argue or say anything at all. I simply gave a short nod and moved with Sam as we headed for the back door that lead to the garage and junk yard full of old, rusting cars.

I really hoped Bobby was okay, wherever he was.

DPOV

Now upstairs, I moved down the hallway slowly. "Bobby?"

At the sound of my voice all the door began to slam shut with a loud bang each. All the doors closed, except one. At the very end of the hall, the last door slowly began to creep open.

"Come out, come out, whoever you are," I called, a moment before the temperature dropped a few degrees.

"Dean Winchester. Still so bossy."

I turned to see Meg standing behind me, looing just like she had in the bathroom hours ago. But she didn't look like she had when she died. This Meg's hair was a honey colour and fell to her shoulders, where the other Meg- the demon Meg- had cut it short and dyed it to a light blonde. She also wore different clothes, more modest clothes.

As she took a step closer I aimed the gun at her.

"It's okay, I'm not a demon," she assured me.

"You're the girl the demon possessed."

"Meg Masters." She nodded. "Nice to finally talk to you when I'm not, you know, choking on my own blood." There was venom in her voice, which had me take a step back. She lifted her hands up carefully, as a sign of peace. "It's okay. Seriously, I'm just a college girl… sorry, was. I was walking home one night and got jumped by all this smoke. Next thing you know, I'm a prisoner," she gestured to her head, "in here. Now, I was awake. I had to watch while she murdered people."

"I'm sorry." I meant it too.

The look on her face told me she either didn't care, or didn't believe me. "Oh, yeah? So sorry you had me thrown off a building?"

"Well, we thought-"

She cut me off, yelling. "No, you didn't think! I kept waiting, praying!" As she snapped at me, she moved forward slowly. "I was trapped in there screaming at you! 'Just help me, please!' You're supposed to help people, Dean. Why didn't you help me?" She sounded like she was on the verge of crying.

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

"Stop saying you're sorry!" Raising her fist, she punched me so hard I fell to the ground.

Groaning, I looked up at her, hoping to reach some kind of reasonable side. "Meg. Meg-"

I was cut off as she kicked me.

The force was so strong I was pushed a little further down the hall- and away from my shotgun. She kicked it away before I could even try to reach for it.

"We didn't know."

"No." crouching down so she was closer on my level, she spoke in a calmer tone now. "You just attacked. Did you ever think there was a girl in here? No. You just charged in, slashing and burning. You think you're some kind of hero?"

Gritting my teeth, I answered her question with complete honesty. "No, I don't."

She grabbed my jacket, pulling me a little closer. "You're damn right." As she spoke I looked down and noticed a brand on her hand. "Do you have any idea what it's like to be ridden for months by pure evil... while your family has no idea what happened to you?"

"We did the best we could."

Shoving me away, she got to her feet and kicked me again, clearly not liking my answer.

SPOV

Lizzie and I were searching around the yard, looking around and inside the many cars, trying to find Bobby. But so far there was no sign of him. That was until it was suddenly cold...

"Bobby?" I called, hurrying over to the closest cars. "We're here, Bobby?"

Lizzie used her mind to open the trunks and doors and move things out of the way, rushing around as we searched. We looked in every place a person could and might be hidden, moving as fast as we could so we'd get to him before it was too late.

DPOV

"It wasn't just me, Dean. I had a sister. A little sister." Meg followed me as I crawled along the floor, trying to get away from her. "She worshipped me. You know how little siblings are, right? How they'll do anything for you. She was never the same after I disappeared. She just... she just got lost. And when my body was lying in the morgue beat-up and broken..."

"Meg-"

"Do you know what that did to her? She killed herself!" She kicked me in the stomach again, hard. It was a wonder that she hadn't broken anything yet. "Because of you, Dean! Because all you were thinking about was your family, your revenge, and your demons! 50 words of Latin a little sooner, and I'd still be alive. My baby sister would still be alive. That blood is on your hands, Dean!"

"You're right."

Yet she just kicked me again, harder.

SPOV

As I turned away with the car I was finished with I spotted a mirror on a car on top of a pile, the glass frosting more than everything else. It was actually beginning to crack.

"Lizzie!" I called, getting her attention. Once she turned to me, I gestured to the car as I hurried towards it. "Bobby! Hold on, Bobby! I'm coming! Bobby!"

I climbed up on some other cars to get to the one I was sure Bobby was in. Just before I reached it, Lizzie used her mind to break the door away from the rusted car so I could get in to help Bobby.

But as I reached the gap where the door was I was thrown back by two little girls dressed in dirty white dressed.

I landed on the windshield of another car with a groan.

Before I could recover, one of the girls jumped on top of me, her hand reaching back as she got ready to grab my chest.

Reacting quickly, I used my iron crowbar- that I'd gotten from one of the cars- and swung it at her. Just as she disappeared the other girl went to jump on me, but was stopped and faded away as Bobby hit her with an iron rod.

DPOV

Still on the ground, I'd managed to crawl into the room at the end of the hall- which just had a few pieces of furniture against the wall and nothing much else.

Stopping in the middle of the space, I stopped and turned, pulling out my other gun to aim at Meg.

She leaned on the doorway casually watching me with an amused smirk. "Come on, Dean, did your brain get french-fried in Hell?" Pushing off the doorway, she started towards me. "You can't shoot me with bullets."

"I'm not shooting you." Changing my aim, I pointed the gun at the roof and pulled the trigger.

The chandelier fell, landing right where Meg had been standing, causing her to disappear.

"Iron," I explained before rolling onto my back with a groan.

Bamby

#dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester x oc #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester fic #elizabeth rose hart #the hart #the hart iii: secrets

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lesbianoverwatchimagines · 6 years

Text

Gone Away

Pharah x Reader

Anon asked:

Can I get a Pharah x reader where you are presumed dead after a failed mission? Like you were shot off of a cliff by Reaper and everyone thought you died after like a few months of searching with nothing turning up? Pharah isn’t on this mission with you.

Gunfire and shouting were all I could hear around me. The mission was supposed to be simple; get in, retrieve data, and then get out. These were the kinds of missions that were given to rookies because of how easy it was supposed to be, but alas, here I was.

“Y/L/N! GO! I’ll hold ‘em off!” McCree shouted. I nodded and ran toward the adjacent direction of the gunfire, to our extraction point. I did my best to stay out of sight, but someone saw me and followed me with ease. When I glanced behind me, I saw an old soldier. Someone I used to admire as a kid. Gabriel Reyes, now known as Reaper.

I stopped running when I reached a cliff. I stared down at the water and then turned around to see Reaper standing a few feet away, not moving an inch. He raised his gun to my chest and snickered.

“You’re cornered, mi amiga. Give me that drive and I’ll let you live, with consequences of course, but you won’t die.” He kept his gun leveled at my chest, unwavering. I sighed and laughed, pressing a finger to my earpiece, realizing that this would be the last thing I’d get to say.

I glared at Reaper as I spoke into it. “Fareeha, I am so sorry. I love you sweetheart.”

I barely got to finish my sentence when Reaper pulled the trigger, sending me flying off the cliff with the drive still in my hand. The last thing I remembered was Reaper looking down at me as I crashed into the water.

***

(2 Weeks Later)

I woke up, somehow, in a bed. My head was pounding and I felt as if I was going to throw up. I groaned, forcing it down as I got up, shaking off my dizziness. I looked around, taking note of the small cabin I was in. I slowly stood up and walked over to the window, immediately noticing that I was nowhere near where mine and McCree’s mission took place.

“Fuck, how much time passed? I need to get to Fareeha. My love.” Tears threatened to fall from my eyes. Had my message even gotten to her? Are they looking for me? They had to be.

I gulped and wiped at my eyes, turning around to inspect the cabin. It had no bedroom, just a bed off to the side with a small kitchen. The only private room was the bathroom. Otherwise, it was an open flat. There was no phone or any electronics except for the microwave, stove, and mini fridge.

I walked over to the front door and walked outside, looking around to hopefully catch sight of my potential savior, but found nothing.

“HELLO!” As my voice echoed through the woods, I heard a tree fall down to my right, not too far away.

“I’ll be there in a minute, stranger!” A deep male voice shouted out. I sighed and went back inside the cabin, sitting in one of two chairs stationed by the front window. I studied my wounds and discovered just how badly injured I was. I couldn’t see through the bandages, but I could tell big chunks of my chest were missing and my back was badly bruised. The bruise on my side was a very dark red and I just knew that my back was worse than that. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as an older man stepped through the door.

He looked a little like Fareeha, but I shook that thought off as he sat down in the chair opposite of me. He frowned in worry.

“You’ve been out for two weeks, Y/n. I’ve tried to contact emergency services, but I have absolutely no reception out here, I’m afraid.” When he saw my surprised expression, he chuckled. “I’m Sam, Fareeha’s father. It’s unfortunate that this is how we officially meet each other, but I’m glad you’re here. We need to get you to a hospital, and fast. You have a lot of internal bleeding caused from your fall.”

I nodded and smiled at him. “Thank you, Sam. It’s an honor to finally meet you and as much as I would like to stay here and get to know you better, I need to get back to Fareeha. As far as I’m concerned, everyone thinks I’m dead, which isn’t good.”

He sent me a pitying smile. “It will take weeks, maybe months to get to her. I only have enough gear to get to the hospital.”

I groaned a little as Sam chuckled. He gently patted my arm and looked me in the eyes.

“I know the pain of losing someone you love dearly, Y/n. That’s something I never hoped Fareeha would have to go through, aside from her mother. I’ll get you back to her even if it means I have to carry you on my shoulders the whole way.” A few stray tears fell from his eyes as he squeezed my shoulder. I thanked him and hugged him before we started packing for the long journey ahead.

***

(2 Months Later)

After we stopped at a hospital, we continued on our journey. The phone lines were down at the hospital and had been for the past year, so they had to rely on old radios, which were kind of ineffective if you needed an airlift. So, Sam decided that it would be quicker to travel by foot, which it was. It took a couple months, but it was worth it. If we had stayed at the hospital, we would have been there for more than six.

“Aaaand, here we are, Y/n. Let’s hurry before the base locks their doors for the night!” Sam exclaimed.

We walked through the woods and then hurried to the gates, eager to finally be at home. We stopped once we got within a hundred feet, because a spotlight was quickly shown on us.

“You’re not supposed to be-” I saw the guard’s eyes widen as she recognized who I was. “Y/n? You look so different! Please forgive me.” The woman turned and shouted orders to open the gate and then turned back to me. “Go on ahead with your friend.”

I smiled and gave a nod before I took off to the front doors of the base. I stopped just short of the entrance, becoming too nervous to go in. A hand on my shoulder startled me out of my thoughts.

“She’s waiting for you in there, Y/n. Go and show her you’re alive and stronger than ever.” Sam kindly smiled at me, which eased my nerves enough to go in. Nobody was in the lobby, but I could hear voices coming from the lounge area. I quietly walked over to the open doors and peeked in seeing Lena, Zarya, Lucio, and Angela talking to each other by the bar. I continued looking around until I saw Ana and...

“Fareeha.” I whispered. Sam seemed just as melancholy and surprised as he noticed who was sitting next to his daughter.

“Ana.” He breathed out. He looked so hurt, but also happy that his love was alive. He looked at me and gave me a pained grin, nodding toward Fareeha, who’s back was turned to me. “Go and make a huge entrance for me. I’ll, uh, wait out here.”

I wanted to comfort him as much as he comforted me, but I knew he wanted to be alone. Discovering that your significant other was alive after a decade? That had to have hurt more than me being away from Fareeha.

I took a deep breath and walked in, quickly catching the eyes of everybody except for Fareeha and Ana. Gasps were heard and then, as expected, a bunch of bodies slammed into me, hugging me tightly. Especially Zarya and Lena.

“Y/n, I can’t believe it, you tough bastard!” Lena sobbed. I kept hugging her even as the others let go. She was practically my sister, the only one aside from Fareeha that kept me going on my journey.

“I missed you too, Lena.” I cooed before Zarya took her and held her instead.

I was about to turn to Fareeha, but as it turned out, I didn’t have to. Toned, strong arms wrapped around me gently as she buried her face in the crook of my neck, despite her being a little taller than me. I could feel her hot tears trailing down my skin as she cried silently. I wrapped my arms around her neck and relished the feeling of her skin again, her smell, her warmth...I missed her so much.

She pulled away enough so that our noses were almost touching. Her thumb softly grazed my cheeks, as if I would disappear into thin air. Her eyes, now red from crying, looked at me with disbelief and despair. I wiped away her tears and kissed her, tasting the saltiness of our tears. Our lips moved in sync until we couldn’t breathe anymore.

“You’re alive." Fareeha said, her voice cracking. "You're here."

I chuckled as a few more tears fell down my face. “Of course I am, sweetheart. Who else would beat your ass at basketball?”

She laughed.

(A/N: I hope you liked this one! I haven’t been on lately because my computer battery is completely dead! Like completely! So I have to keep it hooked up to the charger 24/7, which is a bit inconvenient, but oh well.

Requests are always open! Send them my way! Oh and please be a little more specific when sending them, so that I can write them more accurately to your liking :) )

#pharah x reader #fareeha amari x reader #ana amari #overwatch mercy #angela ziegler #pharah #overwatch #overwatch fareeha #fareeha amari #tracer x reader #lena oxton x reader #lena oxton #tracer #jesse mccree #reaper overwatch #talon overwatch

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a-shared-experience · 2 years

Text

My baby heart warrior 💙- a miracle :) she was born in the IWK hospital in Halifax, Nova Scotia and airlifted to Toronto sick kids hospital for immediate open heart surgery. We met with doctors who delicately delivered news that 1 in every 99 babies didn’t survive the surgery. I held her every day in that hospital . Proof of how precious life is

This photo is the essence of play.

The happiness and curiosity and daring rebellion of the child . Kids aren’t all that afraid to try new things, blessed with the advantage of not yet understanding consequence. In fact these tiny humans are quite daring .. I remember turning my back on my nephew for a mere second at the playground and turned to find him climbing the stairs to a massive slide that he was far too small for. I of course felt my heart sink into my stomach and ran to rescue him but he insisted I let him go down it .i stood close by waiting to catch him if he fell and then waited at the bottom of the slide in fear. He was just 3 and he whisked down in giggles and wanted to do it again… and again … and again 😒

I’ve spent so much of my life being completely stressed beyond belief trying to be an adult because that’s what we’re supposed to do right ? Go to work , make money, buy the things. We often confuse growing up with a sort of seriousness that depletes our joy. Suddenly we’re too busy for anything and find ourselves slaves to our careers. Days slip by shrouded by fatigue, stress, deadlines, clients… nothing that matters.we lose our sense of playfulness, our eternal youth that resides in our soul and grow increasingly more and more dissatisfied with life. I admit I’ve reached apathetic road blocks myself but lately I am throwing caution to the wind. Writing silly poetry under sunrise, painting when I start to feel stressed, bedroom dancing , smiling at every doggo , booking the trip …

If you can be anything today

Be like a kid

Daring, silly, inquisitive, cheerful, curious and innocent

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trashytacosan · 7 years

Text

Title: I always got my (Ion) you

This is my gift to @the-trash-writer-blurbs for the @kurotsukiexchange I added the fluffy morning with domestic fluff, and Kuroo being a dork because why not? This is also my first time writing in the Canon timeline. I hope you enjoy <3

Rated: T

There were so many things that Tsukishima hated about mornings that the list seemed without end. He'd never been a morning person. Ever since he was a kid, he threw a mini-tantrum whenever his mother came into his room to wake him up or when his alarm clock went off. While he agreed that the world had a certain charm to it in the early strokes of daybreak, he'd figured he could go without witnessing it. Tsukishima didn't understand people who could get up at the crack of dawn, ready to tackle life within only a few minutes of being awake.

Meanwhile, it took him hours to feel awake. He'd go through his morning routine in a zombie-like state, silently cursing any and everyone for his current predicament. Anyone who attempted a conversation with him in the morning was in for a very rude awakening.

It got so bad that even his teachers knew not to bother him at least until noon. Tsukishima's hatred for mornings stuck with him until a very recent discovery.

The first time it happened had been a mistake; he didn't try to wake up five minutes before his alarm clock went off. Tsukishima had been pissed because nothing irks him more than waking up before his alarm clock goes off, but his anger quickly vanished at the sight of his sleeping boyfriend.

To this day, Tsukishima had no idea how it happened. How Kuroo Tetsurou went from the third-year who harassed him every night at training camp to the single most constant in his life. Things just kind of happened that way; not that he was complaining. After dating throughout Tsukishima's high school career, it only seemed right for them to get an apartment together once Tsukishima moved to Tokyo for university. Although their friends and family had their doubts, they did whatever the hell they wanted.

And thanks to that awesome decision, Tsukishima got a front row seat to the best show in town.

Kuroo was adorable while he slept. That wasn't really surprising, though. Everyone knew that Kuroo was handsome. He had the whole bad boy vibe going on because of his stature, his spiky hair, and sly grins. There was a time when Tsukishihma had even believed the rumors he'd heard about Kuroo. None of them had been good, either. But, as corny as it sounded, Tsukishima followed his heart.

Underneath that exterior, Kuroo had a kind, loving heart that shone through during vulnerable moments like these. From experience, Tsukishima knew that he only had a couple of minutes to admire his boyfriend before both of their alarms went off and ruined the moment. They had to get up an hour and a half early to commute to their university. Kuroo didn't even have a class for another hour, he just got up every morning to make the trip with Tsukishima. Although he'd tried to assure Kuroo that he could commute on his own, Kuroo wouldn't budge.

Tsukishima was secretly grateful, too. Having Kuroo by his side always started his day off right.

"Mornin' gorgeous," Kuroo murmured, eyes still closed, a ghost of a smile dancing on the corners of his mouth.

Shit, he'd been discovered. Tsukishima feigned annoyance; he had to keep up his hatred for mornings. Of course, Kuroo could see right through him. Kuroo's smile widened. He put his arm around Tsukishima's shoulders, pulling him against his chest.

"How'd you sleep?" Kuroo asked.

"I slept okay."

"Have any dreams?"

"Not this time."

"I had one. It was amazing."

"What was it about?"

Tsukishima listened to Kuroo talk about his dream that wasn't all that amazing but he listened intently anyway. Midway through Kuroo's story about being locked in a supermarket overnight, their alarm clocks blared to life. Tsukishima took the liberty of snoozing both alarms. He wasn't ready to get up and lose Kuroo's warmth.

Kuroo continued with his dream. "Then, Bo' airlifted us out and we went to the Bahamas together. Akaashi was there, too."

"The Bahamas?"

"Yeah," Kuroo chuckled, taking Tsukishima's hand into his own he kissed his knuckles.

Due to playing with an injury, Tsukishima's finger was slightly crooked. No one could notice it unless he pointed it out but it still bothered him. "Do you think you'll be in practice long today?" he asked.

Groaning, Kuroo shook his head from side to side. "I hope not. Last night was brutal." He stopped to peek out of one eye. "We'll be having try-outs again soon. It's not too late for you to join..."

"We've been through this before. You're going to go Pro and I'm going to sit in a dusty museum and clean bones." Well, that wasn't his exact career plans but it was how they playfully joked about it often. "Volleyball was great in high school but I'm over it."

"I know you miss it."

"Just because you miss something doesn't mean it's for you."

"You're right." Kuroo kissed Tsukishima on the shoulder. "Sorry, I just wanted to be like that couple that plays for Meiji."

"Oikawa and Iwaizumi have been attached at the hip since childhood. I don't even think they can wipe their own asses without one another being there."

Covering his mouth, Kuroo laughed. Tsukishima laughed as well. Once again, their alarm clocks go off. This time, they reluctantly get out of bed to start the morning routine that they've perfected. For obvious reasons, they couldn't take showers together in the morning. So, while Tsukishima showered, Kuroo searched his closet for something to wear since he never set his clothes out the night before like Tsukishima always did.

"Leave any hot water for me this time?" Kuroo asked making his way to the shower.

Tsukishima watched him undress. "I decided to be considerate this morning."

"How thoughtful of you."

"Don't take too long in there," Tsukishima said, "I want to get coffee before class."

"Why don't we have a coffee maker again?"

"Because a certain someone bought a waffle maker instead."

"They had it on sale!" Kuroo poked his head out of the shower, his neck covered in suds. "I got it 'cause you love waffles."

"We don't even use it."

Kuroo opened his mouth to protest and then immediately snapped it shut. He retreated back to the shower. Mentally, Tsukishima awarded himself one point for their ongoing competition of being right. While Kuroo was in the shower, Tsukishima refreshed himself and got dressed. By the time he was dressed, Kuroo was stepping out of the shower. Although they stayed in bed a little longer, they were ahead of schedule. Yesterday had been a nightmare. They'd made the mistake of showering together.

Neither of them could keep their hands to themselves. One thing led to another and they ended up missing their first lectures; Kuroo also missed morning practice. So, they decided to just resist the urge from now on. There was no telling how long that would last. They were still in the sex-crazed phase in their relationship. Prior to moving in together, they'd been long distance, only see one another twice a month, if that. It made sense for them to be all over each other now.

"Got your key?"

Tsukishima patted his pocket. "Yeah. Did you remember to pack your knee pads this time?"

Kuroo cursed. "Let me go grab those!" He jogged to the bedroom.

Once they were all set they left the apartment together. The bus stop was across the street from their complex so there was no need to rush. While they waited for the bus, Kuroo took out his textbook to do his readings that were meant for last night. Tsukishima was a freshman meaning he was far more serious about his studies than Kuroo was. He did all of his assignments on time. Sometimes he even turned them in earlier. Kuroo was the total opposite. He did everything the last minute but somehow managed to make good grades.

"It's called being a genius," Kuroo said smugly, "Some people are just born with it, babe. Don't worry."

"My IQ is higher than yours."

"That test was rigged! Bo' scored higher than Akaashi."

"Are you calling your friend an idiot."

"Of course not!"

Tsukishima smirked. "Shame on you, Kuroo."

Kuroo gave Tsukishima a look. "I was meaning to ask you about that." He held his spot in the textbook with his thumb. Looking over to his boyfriend, "When are you going to start calling me Tetsurou?"

"When will you start calling me Kei?"

"I've called you that before."

"Yeah, when you're about to come."

"That's not true."

"When else have you said it?"

"You really don't remember?"

Tsukishima saw the bus approaching. Standing to his feet he shrugged his shoulders. "You always call me Tsukki or babe. You only call me Kei during sex."

Kuroo stood up as well. "I called you Kei when I first said I love you." He stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Kinda fucked up that you don't remember..."

"Sorry if I was too caught up in the moment to notice."

"I forgive you." Kuroo smiled. "Kei."

"Bite me, Kuroo."

Kuroo frowned. They got on the bus and took their usual seat in the back. Since they were one of the first stops they always got the best seat. Tsukishima faced the window, thinking that the whole "say my name" conversation was over but Kuroo had no intentions of letting it go that easily.

"Did you finish that paper you were worried about, Kei?"

"Yeah."

"How'd you think you did, Kei?"

Tsukishima frowned. "I think I did well."

Kuroo smiled. "That's great, Kei." He kissed his boyfriend on the cheek. "You're so smart, Kei."

Taking his headphones out of his book sack, Tsukishima gave his boyfriend a pointed look. "You're an asshole," he said, turning his music up on full blast.

Somehow he could still hear the sound of Kuroo laughing.

At the train station, Tsukishima figured it was time to stop ignoring his boyfriend. He took his headphones off and things were back to normal for the most part. Then, Kuroo started using his given name after every single statement. Tsukishima knew what Kuroo was up to. He refused to fall into the man's trap. He didn't have anything against using Kuroo's given name. Well, a part of him did. Wasn't it too soon for that?

Yeah, they were living together, had sex on the regular, and acted like an old married couple. But that was the thing; they weren't married. Tsukishima knew that he was just being weird. He was in one of his moods. The main reason why he refused to call Kuroo Tetsurou because he knew how much the man wanted him to. That was all it was.

Tsukishima was petty.

"I hear it's supposed to rain today, Kei," Kuroo said, they were stepping inside the cafe near their university.

"I brought my umbrella. Did you?"

"No, Kei. I guess I'll just have to hope for the best, Kei. A little rain won't hurt, Kei."

How in the hell did he manage to fall in love with someone this annoying? Tsukishima decided that it'd be easier if he didn't say anything at all. If he ignored Kuroo, he would stop, right? Hell no. Tsukishima should have known better. This was Kuroo Tetsurou he was talking about. They left the coffee shop and headed to campus. During the entire walk, Kuroo talked about random things. He addressed Tsukishima at the end of every sentence; it was a nightmare. But it got worst when Kuroo started making cheesy Chemistry jokes.

"What do you do with a sick chemist, Kei?"

Tsukishima took a sip of his coffee.

"If you can't helium, and you can't curium, then you might as well barium, Kei."

Tsukishima checked his phone.

"What do you call a clown who's in jail, Kei?" He smiled. "A silicon, Kei? You call him a silicon, Kei? Get it, Kei? A silicon, Kei?"

"Oh my fucking god!" Tsukishima finally reached his breaking point. "Shut the fuck up, Tetsurou!" he shouted loudly. "It's too early for this shit!"

Kuroo grinned. "You called me Tetsurou," he sing-songed, leaning in for a kiss.

Tsukishima swatted him away. "You're immature."

"You love me, though, Kei."

As much as he hated to admit it... "Unfortunately, I do, Tetsurou."

#KuroTsuki #kuroo tetsurou #tsukishima kei #gift exchange #chemistry jokes #bad chemistry jokes lol #domestic fluff #morning fluff #canon compliant #university au

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lastxdragon · 6 years

Text

3 in the morning

@themorningsword

Arthur was going to murder whoever was at the door. It was decided the instant he heard the timid little knock. He’d always been a light sleeper and that was all it took to get him awake. With a grumble, he rolled out of bed to his feet. He knew he didn’t look all that intimidating, hair undoubtedly a mess and wearing only a pair of boxers that said ‘caution: choking hazard.’ Wincing a little, for he hadn’t been expecting company tonight and they were a dumb gag gift from an ex-girlfriend, he debated finding actual clothes, but the knock sounded again, and his irritation pushed away the common sense.

Storming through the house, he wrenched open the door to glare at whoever interrupted his sleep, though the glare quickly melted away. “Dany.” Arthur blurted in shock. What in the hell was Rhaegar’s little sister doing here on his doorstep at three in the morning, soaked from the rain and shivering? “Uh, come in, right, here, Jesus kid, what were you doing out there? Why aren’t you home?” He asked and he hurried over to his couch, grabbing a throw blanket and wrapping it around the shivering girl.

Arthur froze for a moment as realization struck. “You…sit here, by the heater.” he directed her to the couch, before spinning on his heel and heading back to his bedroom, pulling on a tank top and some pajama pants to hide those god awful boxers. Rhaegar would kill him if he knew what Arthur was showing to his little sister. Sure, Dany was eighteen now, had come to his house in the middle of the night, and was really, really pretty, but that didn’t stop the eight year age gap or the fact that she was Rhaegar’s little sister. Shaking those thoughts away, he went back to the living room.

Returning to her side, he sat down next to her. “Now, you going to tell me what you’re doing here in the middle of the night, looking like a drowned rat?” he joked with a wry smile that belied the worry he was actually feeling.

@themorningsword

╣❦╠ ƈօռզʊɛʀɨռɢ ֆȶօʀʍ ❧

She’d been at the office when the call had come in, running tests on the latest tech submission from their Russian division. For just a moment, Daenerys hadn’t heard anything over the rush of blood pounding in her head, and then she couldn’t not hear the rest. Everything went into slow-motion, sounds dimming, thoughts wildly chasing down every path humanly possible, and in the fog, against every protocol, she found herself out on the street in the rain, her feet already moving automatically in the direction of Arthur’s apartment a few blocks away.

Arthur. Rhaegar’s best friend and one of the bodyguards in Targaryen Enterprises employ. A family friend, at least to Rhaegar and to a lesser extent, Daenerys. She wasn’t even aware of what time it was when she’d stumbled past the security desk, they recognized her of course, and then she was shivering on Arthur’s doorstep. “Not... not a kid,” she stammered automatically, a running bone of contention between them, but Dany let him lead her to the couch, clutching the throw blanket. “Lab. I... I was... at the lab.”

He disappeared quickly, time passing in aching slowness as she shivered, her wet hair hanging to frame her face. Daenerys looked out the window, not really seeing the lights in the buildings around the area. Arthur’s building was owned by the company, of course, and he had a beautiful view, though not quite as nice as her own - a perk of being the best bodyguard and Rhaegar’s friend. In the room, she only heard the soft dripping from her hair and the ticking of an old clock on the mantle.

“They’re... they...” she stuttered, her thoughts racing wildly. “The plane... Only Rhaegar survived. My parents, Viserys... Oh Arthur, he’s... he’s being airlifted to Zürich hospital,” Daenerys told him, looking up at him in shock.

#themorningsword #arthur dayne #lastxdragon #daenerys stormborn #au where I couldn't stand killing Rhaegar #go figure #January 2018

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omg-imagine · 7 years

Text

⊱ The Stars In His Eyes (Part 1) ⊰

Summary: You and Steve Rogers have a tradition of watching the stars together at night.

Fandom: The Avengers

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 2,488

A/N: I fell in love with Steve Rogers over the summer and I thought it would be fun to write him. This story features a young, pre-serum Steve. I also decided to split this into two parts because it was too long. Part two will be up either tomorrow or Monday. Enjoy!

1930

The air was cool as it gently blew against your skin and you wished that you had put on a sweater before sneaking out of your home and hiding up on the roof.

It was your twelfth birthday and your parents insisted on throwing a party to celebrate. They had invited so many family members and friends that the apartment you lived in barely had any room left to breathe.

As you continued looking out on the night sky, you hear the door leading to the rooftop opening and you sighed, thinking that it was your father about to call you back in.

“Aren’t you cold in that dress?”

You turned around and saw that it was Steve who had joined you.

Steve lived in the same apartment block as your family and you used to attend the same elementary school for a few years before you transferred to a private one. Even though he was bullied everyday and you were often teased for always being at his side, Steve was the best friend you could ever ask for.

“I’m freezing but I’d rather not go back downstairs,” you replied once Steve moved beside you. “It’s too loud there. I can’t hear myself think.”

He zipped down his jacket and offered it to you, to which you graciously declined. Ignoring your protest, he put the jacket around your bare shoulders. You gave him a smile as he walked over to the corner of the roof and sat on the ledge.

“What’s there to think about?” He asked, turning his head to you and patting the space right next to him.

Shrugging, you followed him to where he sat. “How much I miss going to school with you.”

He looked at you in confusion. “What do you mean by that?”

“That black eye,” you softly said, pointing at his darkening eye and he shook his head. “Is John picking on you again?”

Steve fumbled with the loose thread hanging on his long sleeved shirt. “He’s always trying to take my lunch money even though I don’t have any.”

You sighed and glanced down on your hands that rested on your lap. “Wish I was there. I could have stopped him.”

“No, you would have gotten hurt, too.”

You scooted closer to Steve and gave him a hug. Your eyes then wandered up to the sky and you tapped on his shoulder, telling him to look up.

“Plenty of stars out here tonight,” he marveled as you stared in awe at the millions of shining lights above you. “It’s pretty.”

“Sure is,” you added and you saw the corner of Steve’s mouth curve up into a smile, an idea popping into his mind.

“Wait here.”

You watched as Steve ran back downstairs and came back moments later with two fluffy pillows and a large blanket. He moved to the middle of the rooftop and laid them out neatly on the concrete ground.

Afterwards, Steve lied down and with a grin, he motioned you over to do the same which you did.

“It’s called stargazing,” he simply said and you let out a laugh. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“I know what it’s called,” you responded with a giggle, “but you’re right, it is amazing.”

You didn’t realize how much time you’ve spent surveying the stars until the church bell from across the street rang, signaling that another hour had passed. Steve sneezed and you looked at him worriedly.

“We should get back inside. You’re going to get sick,” you spoke as you stood up and helped Steve up on his feet. “This was fun though. We should do this again.”

“Yeah, we should,” Steve agreed, gathering up the blanket and pillows before pausing for a second. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

He set his things down and reached into his pocket, pulling out a silver necklace. The pendant was in a shape of a star and it shined under the moonlight. “I didn’t have lunch money because I was saving up for this. I find it funny that it just so happens we went stargazing tonight.”

You were speechless as Steve handed you the necklace. It wasn’t anything extravagant but it meant so much to you since it came from him. “Thank you, Steve. I don’t know what to say.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied and you wrapped your arms excitedly around the boy, almost throwing him off balance. “Happy birthday, (Y/N).”

That night, you went to bed with the necklace on, admiring the way it looked. But the small smile on your face faded as the real reason why you were on top of the roof came back to you.

Yes, you were up there because you couldn’t hear yourself think, and what you were thinking was not just how you missed seeing Steve at school.

You were also thinking about how much you were going to miss him after you move away and it hurt knowing that you would have to leave him behind.

1936

Your boxes were packed and all set to go. Tomorrow morning, you would begin the long trip to college and follow your dreams in becoming a doctor.

You’d be lying if you told someone that you were ready for this. You were about to leave your friends, your family, and everything else you grew to love in this small town for the past few years.

Your eyes wandered to a cork board on your bedroom wall that was used to be pinned with photographs of your favorite people and adventures. A handful of them were packed in one of the boxes and when you looked at the board again, one picture caught your eye.

It was from six years ago, taken the day you moved out of that small apartment in Brooklyn. Steve’s mother had bought you a Polaroid camera as a parting gift and you asked Steve to take the first photo with you.

It was out of focus and the frame was a little bit off but there in the picture you stood with your neighbor and best friend.

Your fingertips traced the edges of the picture and you smiled as you relived the memories of Steve in your head. The two of you sent letters back and forth but as years passed, they stopped coming. You were busy with your new life and couldn’t find time to write back anymore. You figured that it was the same for Steve.

Yet, you would think about him from time to time. You would never want to forget him.

There was a small knock on your door and you set the photograph down on your desk. Turning around, you saw your mother by the doorway. “You have a visitor downstairs.”

As you made your way to the front door, you wondered who the visitor might be. You had already said goodbye to your friends and you were sure you didn’t miss anyone.

You rounded the corner and your eyes locked with the familiar blue ones of the man standing outside on the front porch. He was taller and skinnier now, but you knew that it was your Steve.

“Hi,” he chirped as you stepped outside and closed the door behind you. “It’s been awhile.”

“It really has,” you spoke, taking Steve’s hand and leading him to a wooden bench in the front yard. “What brings you all the way out here?”

“I came to say goodbye before you leave,” he replied with a sad smile, his blond hair grown out and almost reaching his eyes. “Your mother wrote to me saying that you’re leaving for college tomorrow and when I got the letter, I jumped on the next train here.”

“Oh, my mother told you,” you said, a bit surprised. “Steve-”

“It’s okay,” he interrupted you softly. “I know we lost contact during the years. Life happens.”

“I’m so sorry, Steve. I didn’t mean to stop writing back to you. I had so much going on and-”

Steve grasped your hand with his. “I know. You don’t have to explain anything because it wasn’t your fault. You had to focus on more important things than little ole me. I was just that sickly kid you felt bad for.”

“No you weren’t,” you shook your head. “Steve, you’re my best friend. Remember the night you and I went stargazing for the first time? You gave me this necklace and I haven’t taken it off since.”

You showed him the star necklace that he gifted you all those years before. It was a bit worn-out but there it still was, hanging around your neck, a constant reminder of Steve.

“You kept it?”

“Of course, I did,” you replied quietly as you moved closer to Steve. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Steve was speechless when your lips neared his and before you could close the distance, he pulled away. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

You silently cursing at yourself for misreading the signs. “No, I’m sorry.”

“(Y/N),” Steve whispered and his eyes were back on you. “It’s not that I don’t like you-”

“Then what is it?”

With a sigh, Steve stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Look at me. I’m scrawny and pale. I can’t do much without hurting myself physically. I can’t stand up for myself and when I do, I get beat up for it. You’re going to do great things in school and you’re going to meet someone who’s better.”

“There’s no one better, Steve. There’s only you.”

You both were quiet for a moment and then Steve returned to his seat next to you. Looking up, you were amazed by the number of stars present in the sky. The sight of it made you think back to that night when you two were twelve and lived a simpler life.

“Steve,” you caught his attention and pointed up. “It’s prettier when you’re out here in the country.”

He tilted his head up and a smile appeared on his face. “It’s more peaceful.”

“I’ll write to you,” you said without tearing away your gaze at the sky. “I’ll write to you everyday. I promise.”

You felt a warm hand and glancing to your side, Steve intertwined his fingers into yours. “I would like that.”

1945

War.

Your parents told you stories of the first world war and how it affected everything around them. Never did it cross your mind that one day, you would have to live out those very same stories.

You relocated to London shortly after graduating med school to work at a hospital there. Every morning, dozens of wounded soldiers airlifted from the battlefront would arrive and you did your best to tend to them.

The job was rewarding yet stressful at the same time. There was nothing better than being able to save a life, but there were several instances when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Nightmares came frequently at night. You could hear the sounds of agony and see the pained faces of your patients as you plead for all of it to stop.

War was brutal and unrelenting, and you just wanted it to come to an end.

What got you by throughout the years were Steve’s letters. You haven’t seen him in nine years but as promised, you two continued writing to each other. His words helped you stay sane during the five years in med school and comforted you after the rough days at work.

Meanwhile, Steve still lived in Brooklyn and ever since the war began, all he would talk about was enlisting.

Truth be told, you were worried. Hell, you were scared of what the war could do to him. You have seen it with your own eyes and you didn’t want Steve to go through all of that.

He wrote about how he got rejected more than once and although Steve was disappointed in himself, you were relieved. In one letter, you told him that maybe it’s for the best but by his next response, he revealed that a doctor finally allowed to enlist if he partook on an experiment.

He didn’t tell you too much about the experiment, only that it was going to make him stronger. You tried your best to support him but when the letters stopped coming, you started to worry.

You loved Steve. It dawned on you overtime and when you realized it, you didn’t know what to do or say. He had turned you down and let you go when you tried to kiss him. You weren’t sure if he would do the same this time around and it would break your heart if you lose contact with him again.

One day, you switched on the television in your apartment and there he was dressed as Captain America. You didn’t recognize him at first, but when the camera closed up on him, you were sure that it was your Steve. He was a lot taller and muscular now, possibly the result of that experiment he mentioned.

But you could never forget that face- the same face you fell in love with all those years ago.

As weeks passed, Steve was on every newspaper in London. Hailed as a hero, you were proud of him as you read all about how he saved the lives of many men, including Bucky Barnes, a boy you and Steve had gone to school with and he befriended after you left.

And then it was quiet again. You waited for another headline about Captain America but nothing new came up. It wasn’t until a letter from Steve appeared in your mailbox that you were able to relax.

(Y/N),

First off, I want to apologize how late and short this letter is compared to the other ones I’ve sent you. We have a bit of a downtime right now and this might be the only chance I’ll be able to write.

Things have been tough. Bucky and the guys are doing alright but frankly, we’re exhausted. We’re heading off to a mission tomorrow and then I’ll finally be able to come back to you.

This will all be over soon, I promise.

And once this war is over, I hope we can see the stars in Europe. I’ve heard that they look even more beautiful on this side of the world.

Anyways, I’ll see you soon (Y/N). I love you.

Those were his last words to you. Almost two and a half weeks later, you heard on the news about the sacrifice Steve made to save the world. The people on the streets were overjoyed that the battles were finished and life could return to normal.

You, however, were distraught, inconsolable, and unwilling to accept the fact that he was gone. Your latest letter never made it to Steve and he died without him knowing that you loved him, too.

The war had finally ended, but you had yet to find peace.

Read Part 2 Here

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #the avengers #reader insert #fiction #my fics

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spideyxchelle · 7 years

Note

Kinda angsty hc. Michelle is in the middle of a terror attack and gets injured svang a child from something. Peter is freaking out. You can sork with this How ever you want

OH MAN OH MAN DO I HAVE IDEAS FOR THIS NONSENSE…and also, YAS for MJ not getting kidnapped or some nonsense (although I kind of love that trope, too)…I love the idea of Michelle getting hurt because she is being badass and taking no shit

imagine if you will….

MJ knows that Peter is Spider-man, that is well-established and she is part of the golden trio (ie. Ned and Peter and Michelle) now…like any all Spider-man things that happen in Queens and sometimes even with the Avengers she’s on headset with Ned helping out

and that is how she knows things are going south during a terror attack on New York

some terror organization overseas has gotten a hold of some of Tony’s blueprints for the iron man suit and have mass produced them to terrorize the citizens of New York

the first suit attacks sometime after lunch and Peter and co. (now seniors) are evacuated from school and Peter is off before they can even think straight about how to help him

and Michelle is like DAMN IT PETER because, well, damn it Peter

he can’t just disappear, they need a game plan

by the time Ned and MJ get back to headquarters (ahem, Peter’s bedroom) shit has REALLY hit the fan

the Avengers are mobilizing in Mahattan and Peter is already in the thick of the action with War Machine, they tag team really well

Ned gets on his headset first and its almost too loud, like EXPLOSIONS LEVEL LOUD… “what the hell, Peter?”

and that little bastard disconnects them! which REALLY gets Michelle going. like, that was NOT the plan, Parker.

she tells Ned to get Peter back on the line however he can… (”how??” “hack the suit, Ned. I don’t know…FIGURE IT OUT!”)….and she is rushing out the door to get downtown to try and help however she can, it feels like a city emergency and there is no way there are enough police officers and ambulances to accommodate an attack of this size

by the time she gets downtown, which takes waaaaay too long, things are an actual mess. people are screaming, buildings are exploding and the occasional avenger swings overhead trying to take down one of the suits. the WHOLE Avengers team is there now but MJ can’t pay attention, really. they have super powers, they can handle themselves. its the bystanders she’s worried about.

she approaches the nearest ambulance and is like “HOW CAN I HELP?!” and they put shit in her hands and off she goes, bandages and bracing what she can and helping drag people out of the more dangerous zones to safe ones.

its a mess. she’s a mess. this is a mess.

that’s when she hears the cry….and just past the line into a dangerous zone she sees a little kid with a tuft of black hair standing out among the rubble

she goes running for the kid as police officers yell to stop her….because oh man oh MAN one of the drones is coming her way and she won’t be able to make it but MJ is not going to leave a little kid out there on her own, not today Satan.

she slides in the muck and coddles the kid against her chest, he’s screaming and crying which would usually irritate her but considering the circumstances she gets it, it’s allowed today of all days.

just beyond the safety zone she passes off the kid to a medic and feels good, feels great actually and then she doesn’t feel much at all. she tips forward and collapses into the ground. her body is screaming in profound pain, like someone or, well, something has shot her. her hands touch her side and it comes away with blood…her blood. oh. f u c k.

Peter doesn’t see this happen, doesn’t see her fall. he’s in the thick of battle. he’s fighting for his life, for the city’s life.

when the battle ends, when they win, he hears from Tony that the casualty count is a little less than a hundred and in a city of 8.5 million people that doesn’t feel like a terrible number…its not a great number, it will take a few months for the city to move forward, for things to be okay again, but they saved more people than lost them and at a certain point he’s learned to celebrate that

he calls Ned once he’s been debriefed and he gets the most frantic phone call of his life

“Peter! Oh my god, you’re alive.” “I’m sorry I hung up, I couldn’t concentrate.” “Is MJ with you?”

no sentence has ever terrified him more than that one

“w-what do you mean?” “she went downtown to help the injured, I guessed she would have found you.”

correction, that sentence is the most terrifying one of his young life. his whole stomach roars in discomfort.

“you haven’t heard from her?” “she’s not answering her phone.” “Ned, she’s not with me.” AND MJ ALWAYS, ALWAYS as a rule answers her phone. if she’s not…something bad…no he won’t even think about it….he can’t

he asks Karen to run diagnostics of all the nearby hospitals to see if they have any patients named Michelle Jones. she comes up with nothing and Peter panics even more. he changes out of his costume and goes running toward every ambulance he can find. nothing. no one knows who she is, or what she did.

until…he finds an officer that talking to a parent of a child who was saved by “a miraculous young woman, she took a shot in the side for your kid ma’am…you’re very lucky.” peter doesn’t know much but his gut tells him this is her, he’s not sure how he knows but he knows

he’s frantically pulling up his phone and shoving it in the officer’s face “is this the girl?” “yea, that’s her. you her boyfriend?” peter ignores that, “where is she?” “en route to New York Presbyterian”

he’s off again without so much of a thank you to the officer and he’s on his phone, calling Tony grief stricken… “Tony, Tony…I need your help.” his voice must be wrecked because he drops everything post-battle to listen to Peter and find MJ at the hospital….and before he knows it she’s being airlifted to the facility upstate to be treated by the Avenger’s doctors. so like, some of the best in the country.

when he finally can breathe again, when he’s on his way upstate in Tony’s car, he calls Aunt May and Ned to tell them what happened and where he’s going. he asks May to tell MJ’s parents where she is and that he’ll have Tony send them a car as soon as possible to get upstate.

it’s a long nine hours. whatever MJ got shot with did some real damage to one of her internal organs and, along with the Jones’, he’s sitting nearby the operation room. waiting. its torture.

sometime around two in the morning Aunt May and Ned arrive. its Aunt May that coaxes him into sleep, convinces him that he fought a city-wide battle today and that he’ll be of more use to MJ with a goodnight sleep under his belt. he doesn’t wanna leave but he’s convinced when Tony reminds him he can always just knock him out and force him to bed.

his room in the Avenger’s haedquarters is familiar and makes some things very apparent. like, the fact that almost all of his pictures tapped up on the wall have MJ in them. like…fuck…how long has this been going on? how long has he felt like this?? because he knows now how much he cares and it terrifies him. and he shouldn’t have had to almost lose her to know. he should have just….damn it.

the next morning Ned comes to find him a little after noon (he’s lowkey pissed they all let him sleep that late) to tell him that MJ is awake. her family has been with her all morning and she’s ready to see some other people if Peter’s ready. he throws on his clothes so fast it even startles him.

he rushes down the metal staircases and slides across the glass to the hospital wing and is about to burst FULL FORCE AHEAD into the room when he hears Tony just beyond the door… “-ortant you take care of yourself. he’d be devastated if something happened to you.”

PETER DOES NOT WANT TO BE GOSSIPED ABOUT so he charges into the room and all the eyes turn to Peter. ALL the eyes. why so many eyes??? why are all the Jones family, Nat, Aunt May, Natasha, Vision and Wanda all in here???? awkward.

MJ smiles at him, tho, and its suddenly all worth it.

Tony clears his throat and politely suggest everyone leave. Mrs. Jones kisses MJ on the head as everyone files out and then, just like that, they’re alone.

Peter sits in the chair next to her bed and the NERDS both start talking at once. cue awkward giggle. MJ shakes her head, “go on, I know you want to say it.”

and damn it, she’s right, “are you crazy? you could have died.” “but you’re allowed to go and risk your life?” “that’s different, i have literal super powers.” “Parker, it was my city, too.”

he shakes his head like she doesn’t get it because she doesn’t okay??? “I don’t care about the stupid city, MJ. I care about-” gulp.

she leans forward, “care about what?”

“you know what…”

“i wanna hear you say it.”

he finds some courage, “i care about you. if you die, what’s the point of all this?” he gestures around the room like he’s talking about the whole facility, like he’s talking about being an avenger. “i do this to protect the people I love.”

“love?” she stutters.

and peter wants to die. yepppppp. he’s so embarrassed. “it’s a figure of speech.” SURE IT IS PARKER. even Michelle knows better.

“i’m not going to sit on the sidelines,” she states like its fact. because, well, it is. “and you shouldn’t ask me to.”

“if you get hurt…if you die…i’ll….”

“you’ll what?” he leans over the bed and kisses her forehead, its a desperate source of connection. surprised, she tips her head up to look at him. “what was that for?”

“i was so worried.” “welcome to my life.” peter has the good grace to look somewhat embarrassed because yea, she’s right, he’s always risking his life.

she cracks him a smile and taps her lips, “you missed.” he startles, “w-what?” “you kissed my forehead, loser. you missed.” and she taps her lips again. impatient and expectant and just a touch embarrassed.

peter’s face breaks into a grin and he closes the gap between them, their lips barely brushing, the pair of them aware of her new stitches and bruises from the day before.

when they break apart, she knocks her nose against his, “i’m not going to be the kind of girlfriend that sits on the sidelines, Parker. if I have to worry about you, its only far that you get to worry about me.”

he kisses her again (because he wants to) “just be careful” she breathes against his mouth and its so sweet he can’t stop smiling, “ditto, spiderling.”

its not the last time MJ is in the thick of the fighting, she always goes to help when she can and it drives Peter crazy. but the best part of a battle is whenever he can collapse in her arms when the fighting is done.

and sure, she gets hurt, but so does he. and somehow it only makes them stronger.

#spideychelle #headcanon #anon #ask

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