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raksh-writes · 3 years

Text

As you wish

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Nogitsune/Stiles Stilinski

Words: ~2,5k

This one I wanted to post for Stiles' Rarepair Week 2021, but since I had a lot going on (still do, since I got a job and I'm slowly getting used to it, but it's calming down), I didn't manage it then - and so here it is now ^^ A small, fluffy one-shot I wrote mooonths ago, like - somewhere in the beginning stages of LitA, but it's meant as post-LitA ‘s storyline. I wouldn't consider this a big spoiler, since there's like 1-1,5 chapters left there and we all know how it's gonna end, but if that bothers you, feel free to come back when LitA is finished ^^ And enjoy! All the love 💗

Warnings/Tags: pure Fluff here, no warnings!

Also on AO3 here!

Sometimes, when Stiles felt this bone-deep tired, his mind would whirr instead of going blank, finding a way to bring him down, down the memory lane — it never quieted, was the problem. And with no will to fight it, Stiles went along, wondered through exhaustion about what-ifs and reasons long in the past, not touched on a normal day. This wasn’t an ordinary day, though, after months of peace and quiet shit hit the fan and Stiles had to take care of it — it wasn’t too bad, but he’s used up too much of his magic not to feel the effect. Hence now he's sprawled over the couch, head tipped back on the cushions and looking up at the ceiling while his mind wanders — and, as many times before, follows a familiar pattern.

It starts with Scott being bitten, goes through the mess with Gerard and with the Alpha pack, with the Darach and Derek, to finally reach what his mind was always running towards — Void. And Stiles lets himself revisit those thoughts — how on one hand he’s been so terrified, and on the other couldn’t keep his intrigue at bay as the demon revealed glimpses of his mind — so similar, in a way, to Stiles’ own; a beautiful maze, a strategist like himself, a trickster in its full glory, always fighting with his mind first and winning in a play no one sees coming, but also so different, so unbound by anything remotely human — morals, ethics or other — a free spirit through and through, uncaring about anything but his freedom, his own sense of honor and now — Stiles. His mate.

Stiles has tightened the thread of their bond before his mind went on these wanderings, closed it up on his end, but something must have bled through. Or maybe it was exactly that damper of their connection that tipped Void off, because no sooner than Stiles is getting too tired with his own mind, a thrill rushes through his chest, heating up the rune above his heart, and hands slide down his chest.

„Thinking about that time again, darling?” the demon muses, voice light, just on the edge of teasing, as he leans into Stiles; noses at his neck with a deep inhale. It’s still, without a fault, even after months together, sending a small shiver down Stiles’ spine.

„I can’t help it,” he counters, arching his back just a little, head turned so Void can bury his face in his throat, drown Stiles’ senses in the feel of his cool skin, of his hot breath and spicy-sweet scent, heavy and intoxicating in the best ways, filling Stiles’ mind with comfort, with passion, with warm, steady, mine. It traps a small whine in his throat, makes Stiles tug on Void’s arms. „C’mere, I want to cuddle.”

„Really out of it, aren’t you?” Void chuckles but then complies easily, withdrawing his arms just to climb over the backrest and slide in place beside Stiles in one smooth motion, all cat-like grace and ease, before pulling Stiles into his side immediately after.

And he latches onto Void almost desperately, the absolute exhaustion weighing his limbs not enough to stop Stiles from shoving his face into Void’s neck in a much similar manner to what the demon just did a second ago, inhaling the scent with his whole being. Rich and layered, sweet and heavy like hot chocolate, like lilac — bez growing in his babcia’s garden — fresh and light like cherries, smoky and spicy like chili biting on his tongue and warm like the glow of a bonfire; all-encompassing in a way that finally quiets Stiles’ brain, fogs it up in reassurance, in heat and warmth and mate.

„Better?” Void asks in a low murmur, nose buried in Stiles’ hair and hands lazily petting over his back.

Something like an agreeing hum leaves Stiles’ throat, but he’s still occupied with enveloping himself in Void’s scent, with covering the demon in his, all of Stiles’ affectionate scenting mirrored by Void’s own easy petting. It’s only several moments later, as he finally feels they’re suitably smelling of each other, that Stiles can relax into a more comfortable position on Void’s lap and get his mind back online; somewhat, at least.

„It’d be easier if I could care less,” he mumbles after a while, a long-drawn breath slipping past his lips. It’s not really what Stiles would want, of course; he cares, a lot, and that’s why musings like these torture him on occasion — no point in any of them — coming back to invade his thoughts again and again.

Void hums into Stiles’ hair, low and lazy, while his fingers card through the wild strands in a perfect pattern of brushing, massaging, and nails scraping over Stiles’ scalp that just about melts his very bones.

„Maybe, but that’s who you are, little fox, nothing wrong in that.”

And Stiles sighs, nuzzling ever further into the demon; letting himself fully enjoy the way Void seems to be so attuned to how needy and clingy and purely affection-starved he always gets when this exhausted and knows exactly what to do to make Stiles total putty in his hands, plaint and mushy and soaking up all that attentive care. It’s not even as if Stiles isn’t all that on a normal basis too — he’s just mostly able to manage his cravings on a usual day, but on ones like this? Well... Stiles won’t deprive himself of what’s given so freely.

„How training went?” he asks instead, remembering just where Void was before he got back.

„With the thunder kit?” the demon muses, like it could be about anyone else.

And the way the moniker almost, almost seems like a nickname now, like how little fox will always be Stiles’, how Void sometimes slips and addresses Kira with little one that’s still mostly Stiles’ but slowly edging on the young kitsune — always blushing when Void uses it for her. If Stiles didn’t know better, he’d think Void started to see Kira as his own; the seeds are there, but it’s still too early.

„She’s getting better,” he adds, after a while, seemingly disinterested, „lasted almost whole five minutes this time.”

Stiles can’t help the snicker. It had been so abundantly clear that they were so very wrong in thinking that Kira just mastered her katana right away — not that she didn’t, but that it was enough.

The first thing Void did was prove how blindsided they were — knocked Kira off her feet in just a few seconds, without any weapon, just his mind and his body. Took her katana in the next as she tried to attack again. The same day — few very, very quick sparring sessions in, as her fox went out of control — the pack got a first glimpse at Void’s true form; the room plunged in darkness as shadows curled and writhed around the demon, all power and too many tails, bringing Kira’s fox to foot with just a look. It wasn’t even the first time Stiles saw it and it still chilled him to the bone — all the while his rune flared and flooded his gut with unbearable heat. It was hot, okay, sue him.

„She’s making progress, at least,” Stiles remarks, smiling into Void’s chest as it lifts in a small sigh.

„The kit’s still struggling with control — will be struggling for a long time, maybe forever even, but... the fox didn’t lash out today.”

And that — that makes Stiles blink, few times, before shifting to look up at the demon. It’s almost, almost like he’s proud.

„That’s... huge. That’s great! Actually, scrap that, it’s fantastic!”

It means she’s getting it, she’s getting a hold on her spirit, and Stiles couldn’t be happier for Kira, she’s such a sweetheart, but that also means... Well, she wouldn’t get there on her own. And Stiles knows Void’s pleased even if he hides it well — which Stiles won’t have. Nope, he’s not only taking in this relationship.

So Stiles pushes himself further into Void’s embrace, slotting his arms around the demon’s waist as he bumps their noses together, a wide smile on his lips.

„I knew you’d be a great teacher,” he coos, trying but failing to imitate the specific, smooth drawl that always makes him run a bit too hot. Still, his grin must have some effect, because the way Void looks at him, hooded, sparkling dark eyes, works just as well.

„I did teach you first, didn’t I?” His tone dips low, raspy and dark, trailing down Stiles’ spine with little shivers as the fingers in his hair tighten. „I’d say I did great, wouldn’t you, darling?”

And Stiles hums in full agreement. The many runes covering his skin, the steady buzz of magic in his veins, trickling lowly along their connection; both keeping Stiles sane and sating some of Void’s insatiable hunger — all of it a testament to just how well he did. The pleased pulse along the bond only fuels Stiles’ want to drown himself in it.

Void'shot breath fans over Stiles’ mouth, making him lick his lips, wanting to taste.

„Which reminds me — we haven’t sparred in a long time, little fox, would you like that?”

It’s almost tempting. He’s not doing any better than Kira, but Void’s been more than content to teach Stiles how to wield the Bo staff and it felt almost natural in the way the katana didn’t. Void never went easy on him, but was also patient and accommodating, always ready to adjust to what Stiles felt comfortable with. So Stiles enjoyed learning, even with deep bruises, aching knuckles and the frustration of how often he messed up; enjoyed, even more, when the spars ended up in the bedroom. More often than not.

Still, as he thinks about it now, the exhaustion brings his limbs down, heavy and sluggish, and the way he’s tucked into Void makes him too blissfully fuzzy in the brain; foggy and warm, the feel of it just plain too nice to move and ruin it.

„Nah, too tired,” he sighs, sneaking his arms from around Void’s waist to up to circle his neck; the tease of their lips almost brushing is possibly maddening, „jus’ want some cuddles now.”

Void bumps their noses together and Stiles can’t help himself anymore, stretching up, up, up, ever closer to tip his head just enough and—

Finally, finally, Void meets him in the middle, sealing the kiss Stiles craves so much it borders on obsession. But oh, how Void kisses him. Like there’s nothing else he wants to do, like he’s made to kiss Stiles, only Stiles, knowing so perfectly well what he needs. Slotting their mouths together, a smooth glide of lips, warm and wet, controlled in a way that makes Stiles’ head spin, slow and steady and deliberate with how Void licks into his mouth, over his tongue, nips and sucks at his lips until they feel raw and red and bruised and Stiles still wants more. It’s almost a problem, how much he craves, wants, needs Void’s kisses, any time, all the time; loves how breathless and hot and coiled with delicious tension it makes him, how the world —just— disappears for those few blissful moments. And Stiles melts into it even when he gives as much as he has, as Void takes everything he can and returns more, growling lowly in his throat in a sound that rattles in Stiles’ chest, draws a small whine out of his own lungs.

All too soon he has to take a breath; lets Void break the kiss when there’s nothing more Stiles wants than for it to last forever. But Void brushes his warm, wet lips all over Stiles’ jaw, his cheeks, his chin, in lazy, slow pecks that feel almost as good, melting the heated tension into something softer, fluffier. Just the way he needs, now, with the edge of exhaustion still lurking too close for comfort.

„Still want those cuddles, kitten?” Void rasps against Stiles’ jaw, a thrill down his body that gets caught at the base of his spine, and—

„Yeah, yeah, just cuddles,” Stiles nods, trying to calm his erratic breath, and licks away the leftover bitter-sweet taste that’s all Void, liquid hot, dark chocolate and spice, „for now.”

The chuckle Void paints against his flushed skin is warm, amused, and so overwhelmingly fond.

„As you wish.” Leaving one last nip just under Stiles’ jaw, Void straightens and looks down to meet his gaze. „Want to stay here?”

Few moments later they’re laying down on the couch, stretched over it lazily; Void all but draped over the whole length of it on his back, shoulders and head propped on some pillows, with Stiles sprawled basically on top of him, head shoved into his chest and tucked under Void’s chin. Some CSI’s or other similar pseudo-crime-solving show plays on the TV, enough to keep Stiles’ mushy brain occupied with ridiculing every bit they’ve got wrong and Void properly amused, half-paying attention, half-playing with Stiles’ hair tickling his jaw.

It’s peaceful and quiet and absolutely perfect, a blanket of comfort and bliss soon fogging up Stiles’ mind, cuddled up into Void as he is, one hand tucked into his side, the other intertwined with Void’s against his chest as the demon runs his fingers all over his back and neck, brushing out his hair — nonsensical patterns and bone-melting caress. It’s enough to lull Stiles into a light sleep, even while the TV drones on in the background, white noise to the brush of Void’s steady breath. And for as long as his mate rests, Void stays still, content to wait and keep watch.

⁂

It’s in that way the Sheriff finds them a few hours later, as the sun is slowly dipping under the horizon, long shadows stretched through the whole house. The sight is, as always, bitter-sweet. On one hand, Noah can’t really forget the past, the mess that it was and that still nags him at times, but on the other — he hasn’t seen his son so... at peace, so blissfully calm and asleep, in years.

Stiles seems happy, despite everything.

That’s why, when he catches the demon’s eyes, black and fathomless, so different from his son’s, Noah just nods, short and decisive. And the demon’s mouth quirks up, just a little, before his head tips back into the pillows, hand carding lazily through Stiles’ hair, and — just like that — Noah’s ignored again.

He looks over the pair once more and wonders, very briefly, how the Nogitsune looks so much like his son and yet so completely different that it’s hard to even consider them similar, then dismisses it altogether. Ultimately, it’s Stiles’ decision — his choice to make. And his son doesn’t seem to care, or it just doesn’t bother him, or some other reason Noah won’t even think about. One way or another, as he climbs the steps up to his own bedroom, Noah thinks that as long as Stiles is happy and content, protected by a being as powerful as the Nogitsune, he can leave it to rest. Everything else that might be happening — well, it’s not his damn business.

#voiles #stiles stilinski #nogitsune #nogitsune/stiles #stigitsune #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #Raksh's writing #My writing #voiles shorties #voiles one-shot #too tired to properly write or edit LitA #so here's posting something that's been ready ^^#'cause I wanna be creative someway #and engage with y'all lovely peeps <3 #hope this one was a lovely read! ^^

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sheerfreesia007 · 4 years

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Pin Me

Title: Pin Me

Fandom: Teen Wolf

Pairing: Isaac Lahey x Reader

Author: @sheerfreesia007

Words: 1,739

Warnings: Fighting, Injury

Teen Wolf Tag List: @linkpk88

Permanent Tag List: @paintballkid711, @fioccodineveautunnale, @phoenixhalliwell

Author Notes: Another Isaac one! I’m a sucker for Isaac. Feedback is always appreciated and welcome!

Gif Credit: Google

Derek and Scott stood before you as you stretched your arm up over your head trying to loosen and warm up your muscles. You could see Derek’s new betas behind them and all three of them were watching you with varying stages of disbelief. Scott stepped closer to you with a worried look and you smiled reassuringly to him.

“Scotty I’ll be fine. I promise.” you said softly to him as you set one of your hands on his shoulder. “It’s just sparing with young werewolves, what could go wrong?” you asked sarcastically and Scott snorted softly before shooting a look over to Derek.

“You’ll make sure that they don’t hurt her?” he asked seriously and Derek nodded his head firmly.

“Of course Scott. I won’t let anything happen to her.” Derek said solemnly and Scott nodded his head before turning back to you.

“If anything happens call me okay?” he adamantly said as he held onto your shoulders for a moment staring into your eyes before he pulled you into a warm firm hug.

“Don’t worry if any one of them so much as nicks me I’ll call you.” you said with an eye roll as you hug him back tightly. He nodded at you and then at Derek before he left the abandoned subway warehouse.

“Alright you ready?” Derek asked softly as he stepped close to you and you looked up at him with a bright smile. You rolled your shoulders and nodded your head.

“Let’s do this.” you said easily.

Sweat was beading along your forehead as you held your hands up close to your face to block any moves that Erica would try. You had already sparred with Boyd who had given you a run for your money with his stamina, for such a young werewolf you were surprised by his physique and stamina. He had gone down with a quick jab to the temple when he was distracted and Derek had counted him out. Now you were circling Erica and you had already learned that if you made her wait for just long enough her patience grew thin and she would come barreling in. Just like now. With a loud roar she lunged for you and you turned on the ball of your foot and delivered a roundhouse kick to her stomach knocking her flat on her back.

“Out!” Derek called loudly and Erica growled lowly in her throat as she glared daggers at you. You fell out of the defensive stance and wiped the back of your hand across your forehead. Walking over to Erica you held your hand out to help her up. She growled lowly again and you slowly raised an eyebrow up at her. Surprisingly she took your hand and you helped her up easily with a huff.

“You have to have patience. Don’t charge in unless you take in ever aspect of the fight. You have a temper and it fuels your power, use it to your advantage not your disadvantage.” you explained as you set your hands on your hips as you slowly caught your breath from the fight.

“Alright one left. How are you doing?” Derek asked as he stepped closer to you. You grinned at him and nodded your head.

“Good, just let me get some water and I’ll be ready to go.” you said with a wave of your hand. You could feel eyes following you as you moved over to your duffle bag that you had brought and pulled out your water bottle and towel. The feeling of being watched intensified and you smirked softly as you drank from your bottle and wiped your towel across first your forehead then traveled over your face and down your neck before swiping at your chest above your tank top. You had a good feeling on who was watching you and knew just by slowly dragging the towel over your body you were putting on a show for him.

Taking one more sip from your water bottle you threw it into your bag and then tossed the towel down on top. You turned back to Derek and betas and saw the smirk that Derek sported as his eyes bored into you. You lifted a shoulder at him and he chuckled softly before shaking his head.

“Alright Isaac you’re up.” he said as he waved his hand from Isaac to you. You grinned at the young werewolf as he stood from his lean on the wooden pallets. He stared at you silently and you began swinging your arms back and forth over your chest while you tilted your head from side to side. “Remember your goal is to pin her.” Derek reminded and you smirked at Isaac as you got down in a defensive position. Isaac looked back at Derek with a look of disbelief and Derek just raised an eyebrow at him. Sighing Isaac got down into a defensive position as well. “Go.”

Smirking you switched up your strategy and charged at Isaac who widened his eyes at your move and quickly spun away from you as you began to throw punches at his head. The fight was on from that moment you quickly keeping Isaac on the defensive as you threw punch after kick after punch at him. It kept him off kilter as your quick moves followed him easily around the area.

“C’mon Isaac! Take her down!” shouted Erica heatedly and suddenly you saw Isaac’s eyes flash yellow and knew exactly what his next move was. He lunged at you and caught you at your shoulders tackling you to the ground. You huffed out your breath and quickly swung your leg around his and used the motion of his tackle to push up and twist him so that he was now underneath you. Your hands gripped his shirt tightly as you slammed him to the ground. Grinning wickedly down at him you let yourself catch your breath.

“Out!” called Derek. Isaac huffed angrily through his nose and you stood from leaning over him.

“I wanna go again.” Isaac as he leaned up on his elbow, you looked down and saw he was glaring at you. You could see the yellow starting to creep into his irises and you hesitated. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle it human?” he taunted you. Sneering at him you stepped back and got into a defensive position.

“If you wanna embarrass yourself again, be my guest.” you taunted with a wicked grin. Isaac growled and vaulted up to his feet in a gymnastic move that you were impressed by.

Suddenly he was lunging for you again and you could hear the growl rumbling in his chest as he got close to you. Spinning you swept your leg out and Isaac quickly jumped over it. You stayed low as you threw your leg up in a high kick to catch him in the side knocking him off his path back towards you. You heard his grunt as he skidded across the floor and he whirled back around to charge forward where he caught you under your armpits and lifted you high in the air in preparation to slam you to the floor. You could see the victorious look in his eyes as well as Derek standing from his spot to stop the fight. You shook your head at Derek and he stopped knowing you wouldn’t let Isaac get the win.

The poor young wolf was shocked when you wrapped both of your legs around his middle and dropped your arms down on his elbows that he pitched forward in his surprise. You swung your hips to the side and let gravity take its course as the wolf fell backwards to the ground underneath you. When he hit the ground you twisted your hands to press them into his shoulders and grinned triumphantly down at him.

“Out!” called Derek and you quickly stood up with both legs on either side of Isaac. Stepping over him you didn’t see his arm come out and sweep your legs out from under you before he was quickly crawling over you to pin you down to the ground. You grunted in pain when your head bounced off the ground and stared up at Isaac’s wide eyes where the yellow quickly extinguished to his normal blue. “Isaac!” shouted Derek.

Isaac quickly scrambled off you and Derek was quickly hovering over you as his eyes raked over you. “Are you okay? Look in my eyes.” Derek asked quickly as he held your face on either side to check you over.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.” you said trying to wave him off.

“Isaac.” Derek growled lowly and you could see Isaac trying to shrink away from his alpha.

“I said I was fine.” you snipped at Derek gaining his attention again. “Besides I should’ve stopped it I saw his eyes starting to change.” you reasoned with the alpha.

Derek slowly helped you to sit up and rubbed at the back of your head grimacing lightly. Boyd and Erica were standing not far as they both looked at you with different eyes. “What?” you asked curiously as Derek helped you stand.

“You’re trying to protect Isaac from Derek.” Erica said surprised. You furrowed your eyebrow at her and shook your head.

“It wasn’t his fault.” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “I’ve been around a werewolf before this is a first for him and you two. You’ll learn.” you said dismissively with a wave of your hand. You didn’t bother to look over your shoulder at Isaac knowing that he was watching you.

“Get your stuff I’ll drive you home.” Derek said firmly and you nodded your head at him knowing that you wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise. Moving to your bag you easily slung it over your shoulder and took a swig of your water bottle. When you looked up Isaac was standing right in front of you which surprised you because you hadn’t heard him move.

“You’re getting good at that.” you said with a wiry smirk.

“At what?” he asked with a tilt of his head.

“Moving silently.” you quipped and watched as a smirk grew on his face slowly. “But keep practicing with Erica and Boyd. Maybe one day one of you will be able to pin me.” you taunt with a grin as you walked away following Derek out to your car.

#my writing #teen wolf #isaac lahey x reader #isaac lahey

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setsureadsshit · 4 years

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Lost At Sea: A List of WIP’s I am finally letting go of [ Part 1 ]

Finally going through my subscriptions on AO3 and clearing out the fics that haven’t gotten an update in too many years or have been orphaned since the last time I looked at them but what chapters were posted are worth reading as long as you don’t mind being left frustrated. Could also be considered a final plea and/or thank you/love letter to the authors for having written them at all, I don’t know how many parts this will take because I have like, 7ish pages of subscriptions on AO3 lmao so just, you know *hand waves* settle in the ride with me.

With the Bodies in the Gutter by TriDom

Summary: Derek works with the FBI to dismantle sex trafficking rings from the inside out. It's grueling, but he never believed that the wear on him outweighed the good he and his team did. Until he finds his mate with a new group that had been taken. He jeopardizes everything to get him out, only to have to turn his back on him before his mate is even awake.

Last Update: 2017

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf; Sterek

Personal Notes: At 16 chapters it gives you enough progress to kinda feel satisfied. It dropped off at a kind of lull before ramping up into the next crisis action which also helps I think. Only mildly unsatisfying for not getting to the true “happy ending” but I’m not mad about it.

Where Is My Bright Future by Steamcraft

Summary: au: Derek and Stiles meet at a German camp.

“My name…” The boy trails, then grimaces. “Stiles Stilinski.”

Derek’s eyebrows rise. “Stiles. Nickname?”

Stiles nods. “You English, how is it… Butcher.”

That surprises a laugh out of him. Stiles looks startled at the sound, heart racing, before he tentatively smiles.“You laugh, but its true.”

Last Update: 2015

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf; Sterek

Personal Notes: I read this a long time ago and I remember it being both really good and really heavy but also getting a little lost in the middle. It’s got 14 chapters though so, like the fic above I feel like it’s a satisfactory read even if there isn’t a real ending.

When Sparks Fly by LunaCanisLupus_22

Summary: “Derek,” Stiles thunders. “Were you ever going to tell me your house is trying to hook us up?”

Derek's head snaps up, eyes wide and scenting the evident crackle of magic in the air.

Or the one where spark!Stiles moves into an enchanted apartment block owned by a grumpy alpha and is completely oblivious to the building's efforts to matchmake them.

Last Update: 2016

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf; Sterek

Personal Notes: This one is a little harder to categorize because it started out as a like, 2 chapter completely completed fic - and then the author came back and added more? So it’s unclear if they plan on coming back and adding more again since they’ve left it uncompleted but you know *hand waves*. In any event, it’s a definite good read, one of my favorites, highly recommended.

Where A Mask, Be A Hero by A_Whistful_Writer

Summary: Oliver Queen had started a crusade in his father’s name, alone. It was bitter, harsh and unrelenting. He was left with scars and bruises that only seemed to double with each passing day. But then he found companions in his fight. Laurel, Diggle, Felicity, Roy. They made things more bearable, and for a while, he was happy, even though there was a gaping hole in his heart. Something was missing.And that was when Oliver met Barry Allen.

Last Update: 2018

Fandom & Main Pairing: Arrow/The Flash ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: It’s honestly just a retelling of the first however many seasons of each show but with a little more OTP filling. The later chapters kinda lost the plot and I was hoping it’d pick up again and really start rolling but I’m throwing in the towel on this one.

The Fault Is Not In Our Stars - Orphan

Summary: After a long and wretched campaign, Asgard has conquered Jotunheim. To ensure King Laufey's cooperation and later friendship between the kingdoms, Asgard takes home the apparent heir to the throne, Loki Laufeyson. Loki is, unfortunately, anything but complacent.Based on the art by stunningly talented Wantstobelieve: http://wantstobelieve.tumblr.com/post/18102496999/guess-who-just-watched-troy-again-yup-that

Last Update: 2013

Fandom & Main Pairing: Thor ; Thunderfrost

Personal Notes: I had hoped this would be a case of the author regaining their writing inspiration with a new Thor movie on the horizon and promptly forgot about it for...a long time, lmao. I’m glad that the author chose to orphan the story instead of simply deleting it because it may only be 8 chapters but they’re very well written and the story is compelling, even unfinished.

Time Will Crawl by coldhope

Summary: Inspired by one of kaciart's amazing drawings: the Winter Soldier faced with a pre-serum Steve Rogers and--conversely--1940s Bucky Barnes coming home to find Captain America lurking in the kitchen.

Last Update: 2014

Fandom & Main Pairing: Captain America (MCU) ; Stucky

Personal Notes: It’s only two chapters which isn’t long enough to *really* get attached to something but the concept was interesting enough to hold my attention/hope that it’d get continued.

The What’s And How’s of Raising Werewolves by kit_cat

Summary: Stiles is twenty-five and shares his bed with a five-year-old werewolf who calls him mommy. This isn't how he expected his life to turn out.Or in which Derek is a kindergarten teacher, the Hales are alive, Danny is overly romantic for a five-year-old, and Stiles has somehow Magicked his way into being the legal guardian of three werelings all under the age of ten... and may or may not be on the run from a league of werewolf kidnapping hunters.

Last Update: 2017

Fandom & Main Pairing: Teen Wolf ; Sterek

Personal Notes: So I’m...technically not giving up on this one since it’s gone 3 years between updates before and really like this story so I’m going to hold onto this hope for a little while longer but it’s a very very slim hope. This is a fic that does NOT leave off with a satisfactory feeling even though it’s 9 chapters in, those 9 chapters really are just the place setting and maybe a charcuterie board or two while guests mingle but you could start smelling the main course from the kitchen.

Trust by trufflemores

Summary: "Barry reels Oliver in for a hug. Oliver grants him three seconds, pulling back with his own irrepressible smile, knowing he looks like young-and-in-love which is ridiculous because he's not. Maybe, a tiny, impulsive part of him argues, he wants to be."

Last Update: 2017

Fandom & Main Pairing: The Flash/Arrow ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: I have spent I don’t KNOW how many months on and off trying to find this fic again, only to discover I’ve had it the whole fucking time! Specifically, the way trufflemores describes how they interact - giving words to all of the silent conversations they have, how they translated Barry and Oliver’s body language to so perfectly into writing. Like, even after I stopped watching The Flash (and had long since stopped watching Green Arrow), I still watched the crossover episodes because watching Barry and Oliver (and later Kara) interact was always my favorite thing. Honestly, watching both teams together was always so much fun - the episodes were just fun, but I digress. I don’t honestly remember where this fic leaves off but it was fairly episodic so I don’t really know that it needs an end per say, reading it shouldn’t leave you too dissatisfied.

The Propinquity Effect by SwiftEmera

Summary: Oliver Queen pretty much ignored his bisexuality, until he clapped eyes on Barry Allen.Unfortunately, Barry is a social pariah, and Oliver's mother is currently running for governor, so Oliver is pretty much trapped in the bisexual closet, unable to come out and associate himself with Barry for the fear of tarnishing his mother's campaign. However, when their teacher pairs the boys up to work on a Psychology project based around the subject of sexual attraction, Oliver's willpower to keep his distance is strongly tested.

Last Update: 2015

Fandom & Main Pairing: The Flash/Arrow ; Flarrow

Personal Notes: I’ve been re-reading most of these as a final send off but this one I’m just not in the mood for unresolved angst. It’s really well written, the characters are really well adapted for the AU, but just knowing it isn’t finished and probably wont ever be I don’t want to invest my energy into something that doesn’t have a conclusion - for better or worse and this is the kind of fic I *need* to have an end.

#Sterek #Teen Wolf #Stiles Stilinski x Derek Hale #Arrow #The Flash #Flarrow #Barry Allen x Oliver Queen #Thor #Thunderfrost #Thor Odinson x Loki Laufyeson #Captain America (MCU)#Stucky #Steve Rogers x Bucky Barns #Lost At Sea

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kateyandthecloset · 4 years

Text

Sect Bound . Aaron Hotchner [2.4]

Request . Prompts . Masterlist . Sect Bound

Annabel Bradey was falling asleep in the passenger seat of the Bureau issued SUV, despite the countless mugs of coffee she had drunk since the afternoon had turned to evening. In a single day, the woman had consumed more caffeine than she had in the rest of her lifetime put together, and still she had run out of energy. It had begun in the precinct, her eyelids growing heavy while words from the case file began to blur together. She had spent almost half an hour reading over a single line, trying to blink back the veil that seemed to cover her eyes. Unbeknown to Annabel, the rest of the team had begun to feel the same way, and the Unit Chief has noticed.

That was why the team were crossing the city in convoy, Annabel watching out the window as the people of Bristol continued to go about their evenings as if nothing was wrong. Surprisingly, they had managed to keep the media quiet, but the ginger began to wonder if that was a wise idea. The amount of twenty year old blondes they had passed, wondering the city alone, caused her to begin to feel panicked. There would be another family for her to talk to the next day; they hadn't caught him, so it was inevitable.

Without looking away from the streets, Annabel began to wonder if that was why Aaron didn't smile much at work. She had been shocked by how little the man let his joy become apparent on his face around his work colleagues every time she had spent the day in his office. Now, as she felt the knowledge that they had potentially let another woman die, she understood him. Even as Emily made a joke about her finally sleeping in a proper bed, Annabel didn't want to smile or laugh. She didn't feel she had the right.

The moment they entered the hotel, the Spencer and Derek collected the keys to their twin room, while the rest of the team stood in silent contemplation. David's eyes gaze met Emily's as they both tried to discern, simple from facial expressions, how they would be pairing. In all their past cases, it had been custom for David and Aaron to bunk together while Emily paired with Jennifer or, as had been the way for the last couple of cases, taken a room by herself. However, Annie and Aaron were a different situation.

Noticing the prolonged silence, and Emily holding the two room keys in her hand as she moved to look between the two adults in question, Aaron stated, "I'll share with Dave, so Annie you'll be with Prentiss."

The ginger nodded her head, smiling towards Emily who was trying not to display her joy in not being paired with David. While he was a close friend, and she was completely comfortable sharing with him, the senior agent had a tendency to snore so much that she lost the ability to sleep. Not saying anything more, Emily walked towards the elevator, the rest of the agents, and Annabel, following her.

However, before they could even enter the elevator, Annabel froze, her breath quickening slightly as she started ahead of her. The cold, metal box had taken her by surprise, since she could remember she had always taken the stairs. Being in the enclosed space, that relied on complex physics and engineering to keep it functional, caused her immense discomfort. Though, it wasn't unreasonable, she had spent almost six hours trapped in an elevator when she had been a child, and she had waited as maintenance tried to make repairs. When she had managed to leave the confinement, she had sworn, unless utterly necessary, she would not take the elevator again.

She wasn't about to break her promise to herself, "Which floor are we on, Emily?"

"Six," the brunette answered, holding the elevator for the newest team member. "You coming?"

Glancing towards the stairs, then to the heeled boots she had been wearing all day, Annabel sighed, shaking her head as she said, "I'm going to take the stairs, I'll meet you up there."

The woman took off down the hall, holding her go bag tightly in her hands. Not turning back, she continued, on search for the stairs, unaware of the man following her steps attempting to catch up with her. Annabel was annoyed at herself, having let her life be dictated by fear once more, yet this time she was also unimpressed that she had let her new team see her weakness.

She jumped slightly as Aaron took a space beside her, saying, "Is everything good?"

"Yeah, just can't use the lift." Annabel explained, turning into the stair well. "Well, and these shoes are killing me."

Aaron let a small laugh leave his mouth as the woman pulled the heels from her feet, holding them in her hands as she walked up the stairs her odd socks out for the whole room to see. Her habit had become seemingly contagious in the Hotchner house, Jack now refusing to wear anything but miss matched socks. They young boy wanted to match Annabel in any way possible, and while it made Aaron happy to see him connecting with someone - in a way similar to how he had to his mother - it also made him weary of how Jack would react if she were ever to leave.

"Have you called Jessica today?" Annabel asked, looking to the Unit Chief, pulling him from his thoughts. He nodded his head, following her up the flight of stairs. "How are they?"

"They are good," Aaron explained, causing Annabel to smile at him. "Jack asked about you, but you were speaking to Kara's Fiancé, I said you'd call tomorrow if you could."

She thanked him silently, slowing her pace to let him catch up with her, "I asked Penelope to help me with locating Liam."

Aaron grit his teeth beside her, his entire body tensing at them name. This caused Annabel to become overly confused, having never noticed any tension between Aaron and her brother. The only time that there had ever been anything near a heated discussion was when he had taken her to the junior prom and Liam had given his protective older brother speech, despite knowing that they were simply going as friends. Though, she had been gone for a decade, and that is a long time for blame to be thrown amongst once allied forces.

"Aaron," Annabel sighed, turning to face him, the steps allowing her to match his height. "What happened with Liam?"

He sighed, rested his hand on her cheek, forcing himself to smile as he said, "You don't need to know, or at least not from me. When you find him, he should be the one to tell you."

"God help me, Aaron," Annabel snapped, pushing his hand away from her and gritting her teeth. "I deserve to know before you speak to him, if I end up still speaking to him."

He shook his head, stepping past her and continuing to climb the stairs. Behind him, Annabel let out a chocked and shocked laugh, for the last few months, Aaron had been telling her to trust him and to share her experiences from the last decade. However, the moment she had any questions, surrounding her own brother at that, he closed himself off and decided that he knew what was best for her.

For a second, Annabel thought about letting it go, allowing him go to his room while she went to meet Emily. Yet, a childish notion become fixated in her mind, and the ginger took a seat on the stair. She had decided that she wasn't going to move until he shared with her.

Turing back, Aaron shook his head, asking, "Are you going to act like a five-year-old?"

"Only for as long as you treat me like one." She muttered under her breath, causing him to reluctantly take a seat beside her. "What happened between you and Liam?"

"It wasn't me and Liam." He explained, taking her hand in his, his thumb grazing across her knuckle as he tried to figure the most sensitive way to share the information. "It was Liam and himself. He's not the person you remember, you should get Garcia to check the Rehab centres in California."

Annabel looked up in shock, her breath getting stuck in her throat as she thought about her older brother. He hadn't hidden the fact that he had had trouble drinking from her, in fact he had been as open with her as possible hoping that she would do the same. Liam had always thanked her for helping him get sober, though she hadn't done anything to actively help him, he had sought help so that he could become her guardian when she was fifteen stopping her from entering the foster system.

"That isn't his fault though, Aaron," the ginger whispered, her voice cracking with the guilt that she was suddenly feeling. "If I had never gone away, then he wouldn't have gone back to that. If I'd have been stronger."

"Annie, its not your fault." Her friend reassured her, placing his arm around her as she leaned against his shoulder. "The reason that I reacted the way I did was because when he got really bad, I asked him to get help. He was still married to Amber at the time, and she was expecting a little girl, but he didn't listen."

"But you said to check Rehab centres, he got help." Annabel stated, looking to him with hope in her eyes. "He got help, Aaron."

Aaron let out a breath, not looking at her as he said, "The rehab was court ordered. He'd had a handful of DUIs and then caused an accident that paralysed a teenager."

"Oh, God." Annabel sobbed, her heart pounding in her chest as she thought about the girl. Her brother's state would have been made worse by the knowledge that he had hurt someone else, however it wasn't that which caused her the most shock. Thinking back over what Aaron had said, the woman whispered, "I have a niece?"

Taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life @fandoms-unite14 @theroyalbrownbarbie

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagines #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #cbs criminal minds #aaron hotch hotchner imagines #aaron hotch hotchner x oc #aaron hotch hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagines #hotch x oc #criminal minds mcf

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meteora-writes · 6 years

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Fade Away

Fandom: Teen Wolf Pairing: Stiles Stilinski / Derek Hale Warnings: Depression, Suicidal Thoughts. Suicide Attempt, Description of Self Harm, Blood, PTSD, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Trigger Warnings abound Description: Stiles is so tired. Of feeling miserable and broken and hollow. He wants out and he decides to act on that urge. Authors Notes: For my Suicide Attempt square for @badthingshappenbingo Read on AO3

It’s much colder out than Stiles was expecting. Not that it’ll matter soon anyway. He’s out in the preserve, feet carrying him along one of the old hiking trails that isn’t really used anymore. It’s narrow, and there are roots sticking out of the ground everywhere. Nobody comes out here, that’s why he picked it.

It also means it won’t be his dad that finds him first, he never is the one to sweep along this area when they have to search the preserve for a missing person.

He left a note.

One that won’t give any comfort. It just says I’m sorry in his messy scrawl.

He is sorry. Sorry he couldn’t stop the Nogitsune. Sorry he couldn’t save any of the friends they lost. Sorry he let everyone down.

More than that he just feels cold. All the time. Nothing feels good. Nothing feels real. He feels like he’s suffocating under the chilling numbness he feels. He’s sick of suffering through it. Sick of looking at his friends and seeing how broken they are because of him.

He feels just as broken. Just as miserable. But at least they seem to have each other to lean on. They won’t miss him. Not really. He doesn’t need werewolf senses to know his presence isn’t something any of them enjoy or take comfort in anymore.

He really did try to fight these feelings, at first.

The fear and sorrow and then profound emptiness that came from not only losing so many people he cared about, but being the one to actually end their lives. Yes, he knows he was possessed, that it wasn’t really his fault or whatever. But that doesn’t change shit. He saw his friends die at his own hands. He saw himself hurt the ones that survived. He watched and screamed and felt it all even though it wasn’t him in control.

He can’t take anymore. Can’t take the memories. The nightmares. The hollow feeling eating him whole.

He can’t.

He’s got nothing left.

He finds himself at the stream that winds its way through the preserve. This section of it quickly becomes choked with brush and dense foliage if you try to follow the bank, and that’s the part he wants to go to. He came out here as a kid. Found a nice place to watch the water that he could be alone and his dad wouldn’t find him.

It’s been years but he finds it easily enough, only slipping in the mud once as he hedged the banks to get to his destination. There’s a small clear area where a tree had fallen back away from the stream, it’s roots long since rotted away, leaving a perfect clear area to crawl into the hollow of the old tree and be out of sight.

It’s just big enough for Stiles to fit into still. Feeling dark and safe and secluded.

He watches the water move slowly down stream, sunlight glinting off it where it’s just started to rise. It’s only just started to rise. He got to the preserve when it was still dark. Hadn’t left the house until after his dad was home from work and sound asleep in his bed.

The weight of the folded knife in his pocket is the only thing that’s allowed him to remain calm lately. It’s one he bought a while ago to keep in his glove box. He’s never used it for anything, but he knows it’s sharp still.

Letting out a slow breath he reaches into his pocket, long fingers wrapping around the metal. One side is warm from pressing around his leg, while the other is chilled from facing out towards the cold air that seeped through the denim of is jeans. He lets is fingers run over the outside of the knife a few times, feeling the smooth texture on one side and the raised edge of the clip on the other.

He pulls it out once he feels ready.

He rucks up his sleeves and opens the blade with a click that seems to echo in the relative silence of the dawn. Sound carrying out over the water and into the still darkened preserve. He turns it, sees how the low sunlight glints off it. And then he brings it to his left wrist.

He’s surprised by how stead his hand is and how little it actually stings as he makes the first cut. A long line down his wrist that he thinks mostly follows the vein. He lets out a shaky breath as he makes it, the voice in the back of his mind that has constantly pushed his mistakes and failures back at him since this whole mess began going silence at last.

A small laugh escapes his lips as he watches the red seep from his wrist and run down his arm. Normally, he would be nauseated and on the verge of fainting. Instead he feels relief at the sight.

It’s a little difficult to make the cut on his other wrist. If only for the way his fingers slip against the metal where blood has run down his left hand.

Once he’s finished, he drops the knife on the ground in front of his crossed legs and lets his head fall back to rest against the remains of the old tree he’s crawled under, eyes slipping closed.

The sting in his skin fades quickly, cold seeping into his body as his mind grows foggy.

He’s just about to slip from consciousness into oblivion when he hears a distant sound. Like a voice. Calling his name. Brain fuzzy, he thinks it might sound like Derek. He hopes he sees him again someday. He’d like to see that face again. Just once.

He’s weightless. The last thing he feels is something like strong, warm arms wrapping around him and pulling him close to a warm body. He smiles weakly just before he slips into the darkness.

There’s a beeping. Slow but steady, and annoying. Stiles, wondering why there’s a beeping, tries to get his addled mind to focus. He’s dead. He killed himself. Why the hell would the afterlife have that obnoxious beeping...

And why does he feel so hot. He’d been so cold before, and now he feels like he’s on fire...

Slowly, he blinks open blurry amber eyes to find he’s not in the woods, not by the river. Hell, he was hoping to be in his home if anything. With his mom and grandparents. This.. This is not what he expected.

It’s only then that he realizes he’s not alone. There’s a body slumped over in a chair so the person is resting with their arms and head beside Stiles’ leg. Their hand holding his on that side.

He blinks a few times ,realizing it’s Derek. Derek. Who’s voice he thought he heard before...

Derek grumbles before raising his head and blinking unfocused green eyes open, he looks at Stiles a moment before it seems to click that the human is awake. Then in a blink he’s up and had Stiles pulled up and forward into a hug, both of the wolves arms around the humans shoulders to support his full weight.

It’s then that Stiles realizes that his wrists are bandaged and in soft restraints to keep him from raising them more than a few inches.

“I thought I lost you,” Derek murmurs into Stiles’ neck.

The words are unexpected, and Stiles fees a deep ache in his chest at the emotion behind them. He lets himself sag against Derek, not sure how else to react. “How did...” He starts to ask in a small voice, not sure he wants the answer.

“I was out running.” Derek explains, keeping his voice low, like he’s afraid to raise it.

Stiles doesn’t need to know any more than that. Of course that’s his luck. He’s such a screw up he can’t even get killing himself right.

Derek suddenly pulls back, holding Stiles by his shoulders. There’s worry in his eyes. Stiles realizes then that he’s got tears in his own. The wolf lets one hand slip up from Stiles’ shoulder, over his neck up to settle on his cheek. He wipes the first tear to fall away with his thumb and gives Stiles a sad smile.

“It’s going to be alright, Stiles. You’ll get through this. I’ll help you get through this.” His words are so earnest and resolute, green eyes showing he believes everything he says.

Stiles chokes on a sob, fresh tears rushing to his eyes. Derek pulls him into another hug and he cries all the harder for it. He doesn’t think he believes Derek, he hurts too much. Being here hurts too much. But he appreciates the faith Derek has regardless.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #trigger warning #suicide attempt #badthingshappenbingo #mild hurt comfort #depression #ptsd

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idontgiveaflyinggrayson69 · 8 years

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Imagine being the daughter of Addison Montgomery and Derek Shepherd, and meeting Stephen Strange during your residency - Part 2

Author: @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Requested by: @jenandoli, @visions-of-autonomy, @p0wderedtoast, @tsukuyomi011, @escapemyfallingbride

Fandom(s): Doctor Strange/MCU & Grey’s Anatomy

Word count: ~5,800 (I know, it’s long)

Warning(s): SMUT, unprotected sex (always wrap it up guys), depiction of medical procedures

Link to Part 1

Disclaimer: I don’t know anything about medical procedures! Also, this part takes place roughly 6 months after part 1.

—–

“McSmart?”

“Cristina.”

“McGorgeous?”

“Cristina!”

“What? We name all the hot guys, it’s not my fault.” Cristina shrugged, throwing another M&M into her mouth.

I sighed, rolling my eyes as I repositioned my phone that began to fall from its position on my pillow.

“Can we please talk about something else.”

“Sure, have you slept with him yet? I would have, you know, if I had the chance.” Cristina pointed out as she shared a devious smile.

“I scrubbed in on a corpus calloscotomy last week. It was incredible.” I smiled, changing the subject.

“A split brain surgery? I haven’t seen one of those since my internship.” Cristina gasped, the phone readjusting as she crawled closer to the screen.

“Yeah. Before that, I assisted on a hemispherectomy on a toddler.” I smiled, looking down.

I heard Cristina sigh, causing me to look up, “What?”

“I’ve seen that look before, on Meredith about Derek.” Cristina said slowly, the smile falling from her lips. “You’re falling for Strange.”

“I am not!” I shouted, jumping up from my position on the bed, quickly grabbing my phone.

“There is nothing between Strange and I, we’re nothing more than the Neuro Nerds, as the rest of the hospital calls us. We’re just like Jackson and Mark were.”

“No, you’re not. Jen, trust me. You have three options here. A) Sleep with him once, get it out of your system and never look back. B) Forget your feelings, they’ll just cause you more pain in the long run. Or C) you work out a relationship with him, like Meredith did with Derek, and like I did with Burke. You just can’t let this ruin your career. You have an amazing opportunity working underneath the number one neurosurgeon in the country, don’t throw that away for relationship.” Cristina said seriously.

“I won’t. I won’t trash my career. I promise. Neuro is how I keep Derek close to me, I wouldn’t throw that away for some guy.” I said softly, looking down.

Cristina nodded, understanding.

“Good, but god, that man is McSmexy.” Cristina laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“Goodnight, Cristina.” I laughed, ending the video call.

—–

“Good morning, Doctor Shepherd.” Doctor Strange called, walking over to me.

“Good morning, Doctor Strange.” I smile as he approaches. “Anything good today?”

“Not yet, Doctor Shepherd, we’ll just have to see if some interesting case comes through the doors of the ER today, till then, we have post-op patients.” Strange said, leaning onto the nurses station I was currently at.

“Are we horrible people for wanting an amazing case to walk through the doors?” I asked, looking up at him.

Strange shared a half smile, “we like fun surgeries, they like living. I think it’s a good mix.”

I nod, understanding.

“I already did rounds with my interns, all of our post-op patients are still alive.” I smiled brightly.

Strange raised an eyebrow, “Have I just entered an alternate universe, or did you really just crack a smile for me?”

My smiled widened, causing Strange to roll his eyes.

“Okay then. I want hourly updates on all my patients.”

“I have Gilbert bring me hourly updates, I told him to page you as well if there were any serious complications.” I cocked my head at Stephen with my bright smile.

Strange laughed, shaking his head at me. “Looks like you’ve got everything under control. What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn.” I shrugged.

—–

ER 911.

I grabbed the nearest box of gloves and pull on a pair.

I push open the ER doors and rushed over to the gurney the paramedics were rolling in.

“Trauma one people!” I called out to the paramedics and my interns.

Once the man was transferred to the trauma bed, I saw the large amount of blood soaking into the bandages around his head.

“Patient’s unconscious. Page Strange right now.” I shouted to Pasley.

“What happened?” I mumbled to myself, doing a pupil check.

“Thomas Sharpe, mid-thirties, GSW to the head.” One of the paramedics answered.

Upon hearing that, I looked up from the patient. “GSW to the head and he’s still alive?”

“GSW to the head and still alive, oh this is a good one.” I heard a deep voice from behind me, I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Doctor Strange.

Strange crossed the room to be on the other side of the trauma bed. With him taking over the neurological exam, I looked for any other injuries finding nothing besides a few scrapes from the fall he would have taken from shooting himself in the skull.

“I want a CT right now. Shepherd, we’re taking him up to radiology.” I heard the click from the bed railing being put in place.

Clicking my rail into place, we began quickly moving towards the elevator.

—–

“What do you see Doctor Shepherd?” Doctor Strange’s voice filled the room.

“A bullet. A perfect bullet, impinging on the medulla.” I whispered in awe, taking a step towards the monitor to get a closer look.

“It’s been hardened, and you harden a bullet by alloying lead with antimony. What else?” Strange asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“A toxic metal.” I nodded. “And as it leaks directly into the cerebral spinal fluid…”

“Rapid-onset central nervous system shutdown.” Doctor Strange confirmed.

“We need to get him prepped for a suboccipital craniotomy.” I said, turning to see a smiling Stephen Strange.

“Yes, we do. I hope you had a good night’s rest, because you’re going to need it.”

—–

“Image status, STAT.” I called, knowing that we had only a small window to save the patient.

“We do not have time for that.” Strange practically growled from my left, as he took a deep breath, preparing himself for removing the bullet.

“You’re going to do it by hand?” I whispered.

“I can and I will.” Doctor Strange answered, his fingers curling around the artery forceps.

The room went quiet as Doctor Strange slowly inserted the forceps into Thomas Sharpe’s brain. My eyes darted from the open brain to the scan. They couldn’t get a clear enough image for us to get a good idea on where the bullet was exactly, or how we could get it out.

I heard a small exhale from my left, and my eyes darted to Stephen’s eyes, the only part of him I could see. To the rest of the world, Stephen Strange looked remarkably calm, but I could tell that he was just as scared as everyone else in the room.

Seeing movement to my right, I looked back up to the monitor to see that Strange was successful at grabbing the bullet.

I smiled broke out across my lips hidden by my mask at the sound of the bullet hitting the metal tray.

“Thomas Sharpe here will live to see another day.” Doctor Strange announced, beginning the process of closing the patient.

—–

I walked out of the OR with a smile on my face. Stephen fell into step next to me as we walked down the emptiness of 3am hallways.

“That was possibly the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life!” I exclaimed, before continuing to babble about the surgery I just witnessed: Stephen freehandedly pulled a bullet out of a man’s head!

Hearing a chuckle come from my right, I turned to face him.

“How did it feel?”

“Incredible. Trust me, I’m on the same high as you are right now.” He laughed, wrinkles appearing by the sides of his eyes.

My babble continues as I recite, step by step, the surgery, with wild hand movements. If it was any other attending, or doctor for that matter, I wouldn’t have done this. But Stephen and I were friends.

Our feet are silent as we walk down the darkened halls, the only sound is of my voice bouncing off the walls, and Stephen’s amused laughter.

That is until I felt a soft, but strong, hand brush against my cheek, causing me to stop walking and turn to face Stephen. The next thing I knew; a pair of soft lips were against mine.

I froze, my eyes wide, unsure of what was happening.

When I felt him about to pull away, I was pulled out of my thoughts. I laced my hands behind his neck, threading my fingers through the soft, dark hair of the back of his head, as I kissed him back.

The hand that was resting against my cheek trailed down to rest under my chin, as it gentle tipped it up, making things easier for Stephen.

A few moments passed and Stephen slowly pulled away, allowing us to breathe.

Stephen’s lips twitched into a small smile as his pale blue eyes met my green ones.

“C’mon on.” Stephen whispered, lacing our hands together as he guided me down the hall.

Stephen flicked on the lights to the on call room, nudging me in. Making sure no one saw us, Stephen followed me in, locking the door behind him.

With his attention back on me, I felt my back hit the wall, as I walked backwards, away from him, with a smile on my face.

He was a predator, and I was his prey.

Stephen pressed his body against mine, keeping me pressed between the cement wall and him, a wall of muscle. His hands griped my hips tightly as he reconnected our lips; it wasn’t sweet and gentle like the last time, it was rough and needy.

I could feel Stephen’s hand slowly start moving up from my hip, bringing my shirt with it.

His hands were cold and smooth against my skin, causing a shiver to rack my body and goose bumps to break out across my skin.

My hands moved to his hair, pulling him closer to me, at the same time Stephen dug his fingers into my waist in an attempt to bring me closer. I could feel his abs and chest against mine and it made me want to be closer. I kissed him harder, Stephen pressing me further into the wall.

I pulled away to catch my breath. I felt his hands remove themselves from my hips and replace themselves at the hem of my shirt.

Stephen’s usually light blue eyes were blown dark with lust. His hands gave a slight tug at scrubs, wordlessly asking if he could remove it. With a slight nod from me, Stephen lifted my shirt over my head, leaving me in a black and red lace bra.

Stephen threw the scrub shirt somewhere to the left of me on the floor.

His eyes traveled from mine down to my breasts, I watched as his pupils dilate even further and his tongue darted out to lick his lips.

I grasped his chin with my hand and tilted it up causing him to look me in the eye once again. I brought him closer to me, so close our lips were just barely touching. I could feel his breath again my lips as his hands ghosted up my sides causing my breath to catch in my throat and my body to shiver. My mind had fogged up and every touch from him was fiery, I wanted him.

“You’re so astonishing.” He murmured before kissing me softy with his hands in my hair pressing me closer to him.

I felt his tongue trace my bottom lip asking for entrance and I complied. His tongue pushed against mine and explored my mouth like a memorized map. I moaned against him as I moved my hands to Stephen’s chest for support.

Stephen’s hands trailed to my thighs, which he tapped, signaling me to jump, to which I complied.

Swiftly, without breaking the kiss, Stephen brought us to one of the bottom bunks, gently laying me down on the old mattress.

With my legs still hooked around Stephen’s waist, I began to roll my hips into his in an attempt for friction.

I felt him moan back against me and becoming hard beneath his scrubs just as I was becoming wet.

I pulled away from him dizzily and tried to catch my breath.

“Take it off.” I told him as I patted his chest.

He reached behind him, and in one swift motion pulled his scrub top off and threw it off to someplace beside us.

Stephen was toned, I lightly traced the outlines of his muscles of his abs starting at the hem of his pants.

The first touch was light and I drew it upwards to his belly button and I felt his muscles clench under my hand, a smirk crawled up my face. I moved my fingers north with more pressure, causing a gasp to fall from his swollen lips.

My hand dropped down to the draw string of Stephen’s scrubs, where I was about to undo it when his hands stopped me. He gently pushed my hands off his scrubs and leaned down, starting to kiss my jaw, moving down to my neck where he occasionally nibbled until he found my sweet spot that made me moan.

“What a nice little sound. I think I’ll bite there again.” Stephen mumbled against my skin with a smirk, and bite me a smidge harder, causing me to moan louder.

I dug my nails into the muscles of his lower back and felt him moan against my neck. He began to kiss down my body, occasionally running his tongue out against my flesh.

Once he reached my bra he moved so he was straddling my thighs, I sat up on to my elbows giving Stephen room to undo the clasp.

I felt his now warm hands slide across my ribcage and up my back until it reached my bra. His fingers slid between the piece of fabric and unclasped it. I felt the restraint loosen and with a smirk on his bruised lips he slowly slips the straps off my shoulders.

Finally, my lacy bra was off and thrown out of sight.

With my breasts in full view I could feel a cold breeze run through my body causing my nipples to hardened. Stephen’s breath caught in his throat and his tongue darted out to wet his lips again as his hands cupped my breasts. His thumbs rolled over my nipples lightly, provoking me to arch into him.

Stephen shifted his position so that his weight was supported by his left hand which had moved to the bed beside me, his right hands still massaging my left breast and his cock pressed against my thigh.

The very feeling of his long, thick, hard cock pressed against me, the thought of me being able to that to him made me wetter.

“Clavicle. Jugular notch. Clavicular notch. Manubrium. Sternum body. Xiphisternal joint. Xiphoid process.” Stephen named, as he kissed down my body.

His mouth moved from between my breasts to my right nipple where he took it into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it. My hand gripped his hair tightly trying to get him closer to me when his teeth grazed against my sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, Doctor. Please I need you.” I pleaded to him, purposely calling him by his title.

His mouth left my nipple but was replaced by his calloused hand while his soft, warm, wet lips left open mouth kisses down my torso.

My breathing got deeper with each inch closer he got to the waist band of my scrubs. My stomach clenched under him, my body was hot and each kiss from him was like a spark that ignited something deep inside me.

When his hands released their place on my breasts, I unmeaningly let a whimper slip through my lips.

Stephen’s hands, strong and steady, undid the ties on my scrubs as slowly as humanely possible.

“Please Stephen.” I begged him as my right hand reached out for him.

“What do you want me to do, Jen?” Stephen asked teasingly as he began to slide my scrubs down my thin legs. His voice was solid and sexy, a melody to my ears.

“Fuck me, hard.” I breathed out, my eyes falling closed.

“Not just yet, Doctor Shepherd.” Stephen replied pulling the scrubs from my legs and dropping them beside the bed leaving me in nothing but black, lacy underwear.

He ran his hands up my legs leaving goosebumps in their wake. Stephen’s lips charted a path to my center where only a thin strip of lace was between us. He paused for a moment, his sinful mouth so close I could feel his breath against me.

Stephen’s eyes glanced up again and I don’t think I’d never forget how he looked. His lust filled eyes piercing me, his swollen, wet, lips turned ever so slightly up in a smirk, his dark hair tousled from my hands.

All it took was for my hips to buck up to him and his lips to brush my covered clit to send a jolt of pleasure through me invoking a gasp from my battered lips.

That motion must have awakened something in Stephen because his actions because more frenetic and quick.

Stephen’s fingers looped under the waistband of my underwear and ripped them off my legs, not bothering to save them. He discarded them to the floor with all my other garments, before he ran his fingers through my wet folds, I moaned at the sensation.

He brought his hand to his lips and licked my juices off of them. Stephen groaned as his tongued lapped up my taste and his eyes fluttered closed.

When he was finished with his fingers and his eyes had opened again, “I hope you don’t have to work tomorrow.” Stephen said with a rasped voice, his hands gripped roughly, my thighs opening wider giving him more room before he placed his lips to my core.

Stephen separated my lips with a quick swipe with his flat part of his tongue which ended at my clit causing my hips to jerk forwards and my hands to grab his hair and keep his mouth where I needed it. His tongue circled my clit making me moan loudly and my hands to tug on his locks.

Stephen switched his movements to sucking my clit and flicking it with his tongue in a quick rhythm. The sudden change caused me to intake a sharp breath.

Stephen entered two of his long, thin, surgical fingers into me without warning causing me to cry out “fuck” in a slightly higher tone. He began to pump his fingers keeping his rhythm with his mouth, it took him a few moments before he found the spot he was searching for. When he did, a spasm jolted through my body and I could feel the coil begin to tighten in my lower abdomen.

Stephen quickened his pace and added a third finger into me, removing his mouth from my clit, Stephen ran his tongue over his wet lips, causing me to moan.

“Stephen, please.” I begged once again, needing to feel the Doctor inside me.

Stephen nodded, pulling his fingers out of me. His lips retraced their path up my body, where he whispered in my ear. “I don’t have a condom.”

“On the pill, we‘re fine.” I mumbled back, casing Stephen to nod and pull away to stand up.

He quickly pushed down his scrub pants and boxers, kicking them away from him, as his considerable length bounced up against his stomach.

Stephen crawled his way back up to me and kissed me hard. I could taste myself on his lips and that only made me hotter. He shoved his tongue down my throat and I moaned into his mouth.

Once he removed his lips from mine, he lined himself up with my entrance.

“Ready?” Stephen asked me in a soft whisper. I nodded lightly still unable to find my voice.

He began to push himself into me, slowly, inch by inch. Stephen’s hands found mine and held them comfortably next to my head as he gave me time to adjust to him.

His cock stretched me in all the best ways.

Stephen’s eyes were closed as he focused on his breathing, the muscles in his stomach and back contracting, trying to keep his self-control intact as he waited for me to give him a sign.

I shifted my hips into his to signal for him to move, and his eyes snapped open.

Stephen pulled himself out of me and slammed himself back in with a groan. The head of his dick hit me a spot that had me seeing stars and I arched into him with a light yelp.

He repeated the action, that time faster. I struggled against his hands pinning my wrists down wanting to get a grip on something, anything.

Once Stephen found a rhythm he was happy with, he leaned down and began to kiss and suck down my jaw leaving a trail of marks.

I began to grind my hips into his for more friction and my eyes rolled back when the base of his cock rubbed against my clit.

“Jesus fucking Christ, oh god, Stephen.” Loudly fell from my lips and his grip tightened on my wrists.

I knew there would be marks there tomorrow but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was him and me together as one in that exact moment.

My mind was foggy. I couldn’t think about anything but Stephen. His sculpted chest rubbed across my chest, stimulating my nipples. His large strong hands holding me down. His fire hot lips across my collar bone. His cock thrusting in to me. Him.

The coil was rebuilding quickly and with my sensitive flesh, the friction against my clit and the constant assault on my g-spot, I knew the pressure would be released soon.

Stephen moved my hands above my head and held them there by his right hand. His left hand roughly grabbed my right thigh and hiked my leg up over his hip giving him more room and access to a new angle.

My back arched up and a scream burned my lungs. I could feel each finger of his on my thigh, they’ll be bruises tomorrow.

Stephen released my thigh and trailed his fingers to my clit where he rubbed in quick circles sending me over the edge, pleasure ripping through me as I arched my back off the bed and my toes curled. “Stephen,” I gasped out as white light overtook my sight and fire replaced my blood.

When I came back to my senses, I noticed Stephen’s movements had become erratic and slower. His grip faltered and I knew he was close. With trembling legs and weak muscles, I met each of his thrusts with a hip roll.

His eyes were closed and his head rested against my shoulder.

I bucked up against him when he rubbed my swollen clit, the hard jump of my hips sent him over the edge.

Stephen thrusted one last time into me, burring his head deep into my neck and bit down on my collar bone as he emptied his load into me and moaned out my name.

He stayed against me for a moment before he removed himself from me.

Stephen then laid down on top of the covers beside me.

My body hurt, my legs trembled, I felt sweaty, sticky and gross. My black hair was knotted and my lungs couldn’t seem to get enough air.

I rolled over to curl myself into neurosurgeon. My head rested on his chest, which heaved as he caught his breath.

His fingers tapped my lower back, and he laughed when I answered him with an unamused sound.

“I know,” he whispered. “But we do have to get up, or at least get dressed. This is an on call room, after all.”

I nodded, pulling myself into an upright position once Stephen stood up. I watched as Stephen pulled on his boxers and scrub bottoms, and picked up his scrub top, before deciding against putting it on.

I stood, grabbing my ruined underwear off the floor and holding them up.

My unimpressed expression was met with a smirk.

“It’s not funny! What am I supposed to do? I have rounds in…” I trailed off, grabbing my pager off the ground. “Fuck. An hour and a half.”

I sent a glare in the direction of the attending. “I don’t have time to run home and grab another pair!”

Stephen just shrugged, “looks like someone won’t be wearing anything under scrubs today.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

I sighed, pulling on my scrub pants, and putting my bra back on, before standing to throw my underwear in the garbage.

However, instead of easily striding across the small space, I stumbled, my legs suddenly not used the weight they used to bare. I threw my hands out to brace myself against the floor, but instead of coming into contact with the cold floor, arms snaked around my waist, stopping me from falling.

“Careful. I need your brain and hands, don’t hurt yourself.” Doctor Strange laughed as he helped me regain balance.

This time, I knew what to be expecting, and easily walked across the room, before picking up my scrub top and putting it on. I set an alarm and replaced the pager on my hip before crawling underneath the covers to the bunk, wanting to get a small nap before going back to work.

“Can I?” Stephen asked, gently, motioning to the space next to me.

I pulled the covers back, and Stephen slid in next to me.

After some readjusting, I found myself on the outer side of the bunk, Stephen’s arms around my waist, my back pressed against him uncovered chest, and my head tucked under his chin.

Within a few minutes, I was fast asleep.

—–

I woke with a jerk, to the sound of my pager going off. I quickly turned off the alarm, but not before Stephen made an unhappy sound next to me.

“Shhh…” I whispered, pulling myself from his embrace. “I have rounds. Go back to sleep. I’ll see you later.” I gently patted Stephen’s chest, throwing a look over my shoulder to see Stephen had fallen back to sleep.

With a smile on my face, I walked out of the door.

—–

I walked into the locker room and trudged to my locker, grabbing my deodorant, make up, hairbrush, and a new pair of scrubs from the bin, before walking into the adjacent bathroom.

I walked out more presentable then I did before, dropping the used scrubs into the dirty bin.

I brushed a stay piece of hair behind my ear as I pour myself a cup of coffee from the coffee machine. With a yawn, I picked up my coffee and headed out of the locker room, heading towards the intern’s locker room to pick up my interns.

Rolling my shoulders, I straightened my posture before pushing open the locker room. Immediately I was bombarded with loud cross room conversation and lockers slamming.

I opened my mouth to call rounds, when my pager went off. Checking it, I downed my coffee, tossing the empty cup into the trash, before calling out; “McKinley, Correy, Pasley, with me, car accident. Gilbert, Wesley, there’s a stack of charts at the nurse’s station. Do your rounds, and pay close attention to Thomas Sharpe, any shift in his condition, I want to know. Okay people, moving out!”

With my three little ducks following behind me, I entered the ER. My team grabbed the first patient, the paramedics catching us up on the condition of the patient.

“Jonathan Pine, 35, possible head injury, several broken ribs, possible internal bleeding, broken left radius.”

“Trauma one, monkeys.” I call to my interns, as the paramedics push the gurney into the trauma room.

With the help of the interns, Jonathan was moved onto the hospital bed, and the interns began their assessment of the patient.

“Jonathan, can you hear me?” I ask, gently, checking his pupil response.

“I can hear you.” Mister Pine responded.

“Okay, good. Mister Pine, can you follow my finger for me?” I ask, moving my finger in front of his eyes, watching his response.

“Doctor Shepherd, his abdomen is rigid.” McKinley called.

“Patient is awake and responsive, heart rate is normal; Mister Pine appears to be stable. I want an abdomen MRI and a head CT. McKinley, call radiology, tell them you’re coming down.”

I hear my pager go off again and check it. “Correy, Pasley, Trauma two.”

I quickly throw off my gloves and put on another pair, before running to the next room.

Immediately, we were welcomed with the heart monitor going off, third year cardio Resident Doctor Aaron, with his interns attempting to clot the bleeding to a massive injury that tore through the torso of the patient.

“Doctor Shepherd, Neuro resident—” I couldn’t finish my sentence before the patient went into v-tach.

Doctor Aaron immediately began compressions while Pasley grab the crash chart; putting the jelly on the paddles. Aaron stepped out of the way giving Pasley room to place the paddles on the patient’s chest.

“Charge, 200. Clear.” The interns stepped back, and Pasley shocked the patient.

“Still no pulse.” Aaron called, as I crossed the room to be at the patient’s head.

“Charge, 300.” Pasley called, Correy rushing over to charge the paddles. “Clear.”

“Sinus rhythm,” one of Aaron’s called, when the patient got a pulse.

Immediately, all the doctors in the room rushed back to the patient. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Pasley put the crash cart back in the corner of the room.

I pulled out my light and checked pupil dilation.

“Right pupil’s blown. Possible brain bleed. We need a head CT stat.” I called out to Aaron.

“Page Strange, Correy.” I called to my intern.

“There’s a piece of glass wedged between his ribs, most likely causing internal bleeding that’s leaking out through this wound. We need to repair it. Stewart, call the OR, tell them we’re coming down.”

My breath caught in my throat at that comment.

This was the exact situation Derek was in.

This is now Derek died.

“Stewart, don’t.” I called darkly. “All due respect, Doctor, Mister…”

“DeGerio, Doctor Shepherd.”

“Mister DeGerio is going to CT first, then he can go to surgery.” My eyes burn into Aaron.

“Shepherd, I’m superior to you, this is my patient, and he’s crashed twice already and he’s bleeding internally. We’re going to surgery. Stewart, call the OR.”

“If this man has a brain bleed, it doesn’t matter if you patch up his insides, because he will be brain dead. I’m the Neuro resident here, not you. Brain trumps torso injury.”

Aaron opened his mouth to argue against me, when he was interrupted.

“I believe Doctor Shepherd asked for a head CT. Pasley call radiology, tell them you’re coming down. This is my patient now, Doctor Aaron.” I deep voice called from behind me.

“Yes, Doctor Strange.” Aaron said.

Aaron, two of his interns, and Pasley, wheeled the patient towards the elevator.

“Correy, I want an update on Mister Pine. Go.” I watched as Correy began to walk towards the stairs.

“It was a good call, Doctor Shepherd.” Doctor Strange voiced with a smile, when I turned to face him.

“We should go up to radiology, see the results.” I nod, rubbing the back of my neck.

I watch as Doctor Strange tightened his lips and nod.

The walk up to radiology was silent, except for our steps on the stairs. When we reached CT, the scans were up. I stepped back as Strange walked towards the monitor. A moment passed before Strange’s voice filled the small room.

“Doctor Shepherd, come here and tell me what you see.” Strange stepped back, giving me room to look at the picture.

“There’s a tumor compressing the third cranial nerve, that’s what’s causing the singular blown pupil.”

“Correct. Doctor Aaron, you’re clear, take Mister DeGerio to surgery.” Strange nodded at the other resident, who called for his interns to move him to the OR.

“Pasley, stay with Mister DeGerio, I want to know when he gets out of surgery, and when he wakes up, okay?” Strange told my intern, in a voice that was colder than needed.

“Yes, sir.” Pasley squeaked, before walking out of CT with Aaron and his team.

Once everyone was out of the room, Stephen let out a long breath, before turning to look at me.

My cast my glance to the floor, afraid of what I would see if I met his glance.

“We need to talk.” Stephen’s voice was softer than normal, and I felt his hand rest on my shoulder.

“What’s there to talk about, Stephen? We were tired and caught in the heat of the moment. See? We’re all good.” I forced a smile, knowing what I was saying was a lie.

I watched as Stephen’s brows furrowed.

“Is that all last night was to you?” Stephen’s voice softened even further, and I may have been imagining it, but there was also a tinge of sadness in his words, as his hand fell from my shoulder.

“Was it something else?” I asked, timidly.

Stephen scoffed; causing me to look up at him.

He laughed a cold laugh, and my heart dropped to my stomach.

His voice hardened, as he rolled his eyes. One of his perfect hands rubbed his jaw before he looked at me.

“Actually yeah, it was. I like you, I know you like me, you have another five to nine years at Met-Gen for your residency and fellowship. I think we can make this work.” Stephen’s eyes fixated on me, as he crossed his arms over his chest.

My eyes widened. “What?!”

His trademark signature smirk crawled across his lips. “You heard me. I know lots of attendings who date residents and interns. Now, Mister Sharpe, our bullet wound patient isn’t dead, let’s have dinner.”

“Okay.” I whispered.

Stephen’s smirk turned into a smile as placed a hand on my cheek, and leaned down to kiss me. It wasn’t like any of the kisses we shared the previous night. This one was soft and slow. After a moment, Stephen pulled away.

“Your lips are so soft. I could kiss them all day.” Stephen whispered, before pulling himself away from me fully.

“Dinner tonight, 7 o’clock.” Stephen patted my shoulder, “I’ll see you then.”

Stephen pressed a quick kiss to my lips, before strolling out of the scan room.

—

Fin

#Doctor Stephen Strange #doctor strange #doctor strange imagine #doctor strange x reader #doctor strange one shot #grey's anatomy #Meredith Grey #cristina yang #addison montgomery #benedict cumberbatch #mine

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