#i got everything else i wanted. like yeah a press kit would be nice. the action figures too. but those aren't coming at a reasonable price

[rootedinrevisions]

In the Wings: Part 7

SUMMARY: As the final day of filming wraps, Glen takes a chance and asks you to be his date to the cast and crew’s wrap party. Dressed to impress, you both arrive together, careful to keep things discreet—at least at first. But as the night progresses, it’s harder to hide the growing connection between you. A shared dance on the floor, lingering touches, and knowing glances from friends make it clear: something special is blossoming between you and Glen.

OTHER PARTS: PART 1 I PART 2 I PART 3 I PART 4 I PART 5 I

PART 6

WARNINGS: Implied alcohol consumption. Otherwise just fluff.

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

The hair and makeup trailer is a quiet refuge as the last day on set winds down. You’re tidying up your station, placing brushes in their designated slots, and wiping down surfaces. There’s a bittersweet feeling in the air; it’s been an intense few weeks, and while you’re proud of the work you’ve done, a part of you is reluctant to see it end.

Just as you’re finishing up, you hear the door open, and your pulse quickens when you see Glen stepping inside. He’s still in his flight suit, hair tousled from the day’s scenes, with that familiar, easy grin that seems to brighten the room.

“Hey,” he says, closing the door behind him and leaning casually against the counter. “Got a minute?”

You nod, smiling as you tuck a few stray tools back into your kit. “What’s up?”

“Tom and the producers are throwing a wrap party tonight. Rented out a restaurant for the cast and crew.” He pauses, his gaze holding yours a little longer than usual. “I was wondering if you’d want to go with me.”

A soft smile forms on your lips. “Like… as your date?”

Glen’s grin widens, his eyes sparkling with that mischievous glint you’ve come to know so well. He nods. “Yeah. Exactly like that.”

You don’t even need to think about your answer. “I’d love to.”

He steps closer, that playful look softening as he gazes down at you. “Perfect,” he murmurs, and before you know it, he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The warmth of his touch and the light pressure of his lips make you forget everything else for a moment.

When he pulls back, he’s still smiling, his fingers lingering near yours. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

* * * *

The hotel room is quiet as you stand in front of the mirror, putting the final touches on your makeup. You smooth down the fabric of your dress—a simple but elegant piece you’d packed, just in case. The soft, flattering lines and deep color bring a touch of glamour that feels perfect for tonight.

As you swipe on a final layer of lipstick, a knock sounds at the door. Heart fluttering, you cap the lipstick and head over to answer. When you open the door, there stands Glen, leaning casually with a warm smile. His outfit—a pair of gray dress pants and a fitted black button-up shirt—compliments his relaxed confidence, and there’s an appreciative gleam in his eye as he looks you over.

“Wow,” he says, letting his gaze linger. “You look stunning. That dress suits you.”

You feel a blush creep up, smiling back as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Thank you,” you murmur. “You clean up pretty nicely yourself.”

He chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Shall we?” He motions towards the hallway with a little nod, stepping aside so you can lead the way. You gather your small clutch and step out, feeling a flutter of excitement as he falls into step beside you. 

* * * *

The restaurant buzzes with the sounds of laughter and conversation, as cast and crew mingle in small groups throughout the softly lit space. You and Glen step inside, the warmth and lively atmosphere instantly welcoming you in. Heads turn your way, and you’re aware of a few knowing glances exchanged between people as you both walk through the entrance together. Even though there’s no hand-holding or any outward display of affection, the energy between you and Glen seems to say it all.

Glen catches a few of those looks and smirks, clearly amused, but he doesn’t let on as he leans close and murmurs, “I’m going to grab a drink. You want anything?”

You tell him your order, a casual smile exchanged as he nods and makes his way to the bar, blending into the crowd with ease. 

As he goes, you take a breath, willing yourself to stay composed despite the subtle attention. It feels surreal to be here with him like this, even if things are still discreet.

Spotting a group of your colleagues from the hair and makeup team near the far side of the room, you make your way over to them. They greet you with warm smiles, already in the middle of discussing the wrap party and the relief of finally reaching the end of a long, demanding shoot.

One of them nudges you playfully. “You and Glen, huh?” she teases, raising an eyebrow.

You manage to keep your smile relaxed, laughing it off. “Oh, we just rode over together,” you reply casually. “Just figured we’d save on an extra ride, you know?”

They nod knowingly, exchanging glances with one another, but they don’t press the subject further. You’re grateful for that. You settle into the conversation, chatting and catching up, feeling yourself start to unwind. Across the room, you catch sight of Glen waiting at the bar, glancing back your way with a small smile that makes your heart skip.

It’s a small, private look just between the two of you—one that makes you feel like the only two people in the room, even if you’re playing it low-key for now.

Glen weaves through the crowd with two glasses in hand, his gaze focused on you. When he reaches your side, he hands you your drink with a warm smile, his fingers brushing yours briefly. You murmur a thank you, taking a sip as he joins the small circle of your coworkers.

With that effortless charm, he thanks the hair and makeup team, nodding to each of them with genuine appreciation. “Really, we couldn’t have done any of this without you,” he says, glancing around at everyone. “The work you all do—the attention to detail, the early mornings—it’s all part of what makes everything come together.”

One of them, Linda, nudges you with a teasing smile, saying, “Well, we’ll miss you too, Glen. It’s a shame filming’s wrapped up. We won’t be able to keep you looking so good on set anymore.” Her eyes flick between you and Glen with a hint of suggestion, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Glen doesn’t miss a beat. He chuckles, glancing sideways at you. You feel a slight blush rise to your cheeks, unable to suppress a smile as Glen’s gaze lingers on you a moment longer. 

Your colleagues exchange a few sly glances among themselves, clearly picking up on the connection between you and Glen. And while you’re careful to keep things discreet, there’s something thrilling in the unspoken understanding between the two of you.

Just as you and Glen exchange a glance, a voice over the restaurant’s speakers announces that dinner is about to be served. People begin shuffling toward their tables, glancing at place cards to find their seats. Glen leans toward you, just close enough so only you can hear him over the chatter.

“I’ll catch up with you later?” he says softly, his eyes holding yours with a quiet warmth.

You smile, giving him a small nod. “I’ll be here.”

With a grin, he heads off toward the cast table, joining Miles, Lewis, and a few others who are already joking and laughing, welcoming him over with waves and claps on the shoulder. You watch him for just a second, a faint flutter of excitement lingering, before making your way over to your own table with the hair, makeup, and costume team.

Sliding into your seat, you’re greeted with smiles and friendly chatter, everyone buzzing with excitement as the celebratory energy of the evening settles in. You settle into the familiar warmth of your friends and colleagues, sharing stories of the production and laughs over some of the more chaotic days on set, but there’s an undeniable thrill in knowing that, across the room, Glen is watching for his chance to find you again.

As the dinner plates are cleared away and laughter fills the room, the soft background music fades, replaced by something more upbeat. You’re in the middle of a lighthearted conversation at your table when someone clears their throat behind you. Turning, you see Glen standing there, hands in his pockets, his usual grin lighting up his face. He nods toward the makeshift dance floor where a few couples have already started to sway to the music.

“Care to dance?” he asks, his voice soft but playful.

You glance around the room, a mix of excitement and uncertainty washing over you. Your eyes dart to the people still lingering at their tables, wondering if this is a good idea, but Glen catches your hesitation and chuckles, leaning in closer.

“Come on,” he coaxes, his voice low. “Just one dance.”

You feel your heart skip, a smile tugging at your lips as you give a small nod. “Alright. Just one.”

He reaches out, and you slide your hand into his, feeling his fingers close gently around yours as he leads you over to the dance floor. The room fades slightly as he turns to face you, one hand slipping to your waist, the other still holding your hand. You’re close, but just enough to keep it innocent. As you move together, the song fills the air, each beat pulling you a little closer to him, and you can’t help but let out a small, contented laugh as he guides you in time with the music.

“See?” he murmurs, glancing down at you with a soft, teasing smile. “Not so bad, is it?”

You shake your head, the laughter still in your voice. “Not bad at all.”

For a moment, it’s just the two of you, and the rest of the room falls away—nothing but Glen’s steady gaze, his hand at your waist, and the gentle sway of the music surrounding you.

As the upbeat song fades into a slower, softer melody, Glen’s arm around your waist tightens just a bit, gently pulling you closer. You feel his chest press against yours, the warmth between you deepening as he bridges the last small gap. Instinctively, your head falls to his shoulder, and for a second, you let yourself melt into the quiet, intimate moment.

But as you open your eyes, you catch sight of a few colleagues at the edge of the dance floor, glancing over with raised eyebrows and soft, knowing smiles. A wave of nervousness ripples through you, and you lift your head, glancing up at Glen, who’s still looking at you with a gentle, contented smile.

“People are watching,” you murmur, searching his eyes.

He lets out a quiet, almost mischievous chuckle, his gaze steady. “I know,” he replies, unfazed, his voice low and calm.

You hesitate, studying his expression. “Aren’t you worried?”

He shakes his head slowly, still holding you close, his thumb brushing gently over your back. “Not really,” he says, the warmth in his eyes sincere. “I’ve spent half of filming pretending like I don’t want to be this close to you. Now, I just want to enjoy spending time with you.”

The conviction in his words settles any lingering nerves you have, and a smile finds its way onto your face. With the music wrapping around you, you let yourself sink back into the dance, resting your head against his shoulder once more. This time, you don’t care about the glances or whispers; it’s just you and Glen, lost in the music, letting the rest of the room fade away.

As the night winds down, you find yourself caught up in a lively conversation with Miles Teller and his wife, Keleigh. Miles is recounting some of his favorite memories from the shoot, and Keleigh is laughing, chiming in with her own playful commentary. You’re fully immersed in the moment when you suddenly feel a warm hand on the small of your back. Before you can react, an arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into a familiar embrace. You glance up and see Glen beside you, a soft smile on his face.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as he nods toward the door. “You ready to head out?”

You smile back, a warmth spreading through you as you nod. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

You both turn to say your goodbyes to Miles and Keleigh, who give you knowing smiles as they wave you off. Miles raises his glass in a silent toast, and Keleigh winks, her gaze flicking between you and Glen.

Glen reaches for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as he leads you out of the party. As you step out into the night, the hum of the party fades behind you, leaving just the quiet sounds of the city around you. Glen glances down, his thumb brushing gently over the back of your hand as he holds it tightly.

Walking side by side, there’s a feeling of contentment, a quiet excitement that lingers between you. With every step, you feel the weight of the evening’s shared glances, the unspoken promises, and the joy of finally being able to enjoy each other’s company openly. As you head back to the hotel together, it feels like the perfect end to the night—and the beginning of something even better.

[n7punk]

not to be obsessed but last week i had a dream i checked my ebay notifs and finally got the she-ra statue and i've been actually fucking insane ever since. meanest thing my brain has ever done to me

[starjane312]

Kit Tanthalos x OC

Big Masterlist

Masterlist

Chapter 19

We are eating and celebrating the Wedding. Everything is going nicely. I wander off with Kit. She swings our hands back and forth. I laugh.

J: I love you.

K: I love you too.

I face her. Suddenly she gets pulled away from me. It’s a Troll.

J: KIT !

They get pulled up by a Rope. I start running to the feast to Boorman. Who’s killing one of the Trolls.

J: They have her.

He looks at me. Tears streaming down my Face. He pulls me into his arms.

J: Why does this always happen ?

B: I don’t know but we’re gonna get her back.

J: Promise.

He holds out his Pinky. I hook it with mine.

J: Then let’s go.

We grab our weapons, change our clothes to something more Appropriate and start walking to Skellin.

When we arrive the sun is up again.

J: How do we get in there ?

B: One Person sneaking in there ? Maybe. Six of us ? Impossible. I’m begging you. Let me do this. I’ll get in get’em out meet you on the other side.

J: Like hell I won’t go in there.

Ja: You’re not going anywhere without us.We’re rescuing Willow.

S: And Kit.

E: And all the other People they took. Cut down any troll that may come our way.

G: She doesn’t mean undermining their confidence, do you ? 

J: No Baby face she doesn’t.

G: And a new nickname, how nice.

S: So when you fought your way out the last time and slaughtered all those Trolls. You went Right out the Front ?

B: Yeah about that … When I said Slaughtered. I didn’t actually mean Slaughtered. More like I slaughtered their Pizzazz.

S: Their what ?

The next thing I know I’m walking through a Shit drain.

J: Boorman, I hate you.

S: What are we walking through ?

B: It’s best not to get to specific.

G: Pretty sure it’s Troll Poop.

B: What’d I just say ? I’ve had ten years to think about exactly how I would get in and out of this Rank cesspool without anyone realizing I was ever here.

J: Then you got caught and never returned to your Sister.

B: Thought you didn’t hate me ?

J: Doesn’t mean I’m not angry.

He leans against a wooden wall and falls right through it.

B: Ow my coccyx.

J: Idiot. “Never notice i was even here”

B: Don’t mock me.

J: What else am I supposed to do ? Applaud for your Geniusness ?

Ja: I know you are frustrated, angry and concerned for Kit Jane But we have to keep going.

I sigh and walk after Boorman through Tunnels. As we come to a very small bridge very close to the deep end I inhale sharply. 

J: Have I ever told you about my Dying fear of heights ?

B: What else is there ? Thunders, heights.

J: Very small spaces, the tunnels are killing me and moths.

G: Moths ?

J: Yes, twinkle toes Moths.

G: Okay.

We keep walking. I press myself against the wall. Jade holds my Hand.

Ja: Remember who this is for.

J: Kit, My Kit.

Ja: Yes, your Wife. Good. Now, keep walking. 

I don’t listen to Graydon and Elora talking. We arrive and Fight of Trolls. We knock them out. The cauldrons start Bubbling like Crazy. 

G: Uh Guys ß

Ja: Should it be doing that ?

B: Uh no, that is definitely unusual.

I look at Elora and the Wand.

J: Uh your wand is glowing like Crazy.

S: Why is it doing that ?

Elora doesn’t look like she’s doing that on purpose.

S: Well make it stop.

E: How ?

She points her wand at the cauldron.

E: Stop shaking Avagdu ! 

It starts getting worse.

J: Ok how ‘bout we all calm down a little.

Ja: Yeah just Relax.

E: I am relaxed ! Okay ?

B: You don’t sound relaxed.

E: I’m telling you this has nothing to do with me. I don’t know what’s going on but I don’t have any … any, any,

G: No, No,no,no,no !

And she sneezes. The rumbling stops.

Ja: Gesundheit.

J: Better now ?

She nods. 

J: Ok let’s go.

We change into the uniforms.

J: These stink. But let’s do this. I want my Wife back. 

I watch as Scorpia nad Boorman kiss.

Ja: Scorpia they're coming, we need to go.

I put on the Helmet. We follow Boorman through tunnels. Elora stops.

G: Are you ok ?

I look back and see her leaning against a wall.

Ja: Is that you ?

J: Are you doing that ?

Ja: Elora ? Unclench. Seriously, you’re gonna kill us all.

G: When I concentrate on the next one sometimes I don’t sneeze at all.

E: I’m not gonna sneeze.

G: It’s nothing to be Ashamed of. I-I didn’t.

B: Come on. Hurry up. Follow me.

He stops at a crossing. 

B: Uh …

J: Are we close ?

B: Uh … Don’t worry, you’ll be with Kit in no Time.

E: You’re Lost.

B: No, I'm just getting my Bearings.

Jade grabs my Arm. Knowing that I wanna strangle him.

Ja: You’re too tall. Noone will believe you’re a Troll.

B: I sell it with my Performance. Unlike you four Not even remotely convincing.

J: I will take out my Axe and convince you of it’s performance.

Trolls come our way. We bow submissively.

?: This damn day. Got word of a spill on Triton level. I need a Krom unit supervisor down there to oversee the mop crew. Dipshit.

He points at Graydon.

G: Me ? Oh … N-No. Thank you though.

[needleclanclangen]

MOON 9 - BOUGHKIT

The kits were all hanging out. Bogkit had assigned herself as Goldkit's guide, and had therefore planted herself beside him whenever he wanted to go out. Batkit had drifted towards Larkkit, and that left everyone else in the middle.

It was nice to have a big group. Boughkit could still rely on Tricklekit to her left, and Rindlekit to her right. Rindlekit's bright pelt was visible even to her bad eye.

"So!" Boughkit stepped forward, paw on the ground and head high. The others turned their attention to her. "I've finally got a way to get used to our bad eye!" A bit of silence, and Boughkit grinned. Shocked! They had to be! "You gotta just adjust-"

"Bad eye?" Goldkit mumbled. "That's not a thing."

Bogkit winced, but she nodded as well. "Yeah... my eyes are just. Normal?" Bogkit waved a paw in the air.

Tricklekit tilted her head at Boughkit, and Boughkit turned to face her sister. She could see Bogkit and Goldkit fade away at the back of her bad eye. "Don't you have that problem?"

"... No. I just like to challenge myself." Tricklekit admitted.

Boughkit heard pawsteps on her right, and she did not get surprised when Rindlekit walked up to her, ears down on her head. "... I don't either."

"But we were all brought into camp!" Boughkit got up, backing away. "There's no way nobody else has to deal with it?"

Larkkit hissed between her teeth, looking at Graykit. Graykit put his paws together.

Boughkit turned around and exited the nursery, huffing. 

No, she was not making this up. They had to be messing with her. That was it! She made sure to give the right side of the medicine cat door a wide berth, then entered.

Speckleback glanced up from Whiskershadow's side. Hollyspike had a new cobweb covering over his cat bite. Speckleback sighed, wandering towards Boughkit. "Here again?"

"Everyone's messing with me!"

Speckleback blinked, and his ears pointed up. "Taking their revenge on when you brought thorns in from the camp wall?"

"No!" Boughkit objected, then thought about it. No, that would make sense, wouldn't it? She hid those thorns so that nobody would see, and now they were pretending like they could just see more. 

Like how they caught the thorns. They called it obvious, it had to be...

Boughkit sighed. "So everyone does have a bad eye, right...?"

Speckleback let out a little gasp, and Boughkit glanced up to him. Speckleback's expression grew conflicted.

"... no, normally our eyes have the same amount of vision." Speckleback meowed, curling his tail over his paws. 

... Oh.

"So... nobody else has a weird eye that makes cats not appear until they're next to you?"

"No."

Boughkit felt very, very small, despite the fact that she was growing bigger. She pressed her paws together. "Is... is that why everyone else doesn't need to consider everything before going into entrances?"

Speckleback nodded. Boughkit stared at the ground. 

Oh... okay. So it was her catching up, not her having the upper hand.

"... I don't wanna go back there." Boughkit muttered. "After bragging and everything..."

Speckleback glanced to Whiskershadow. He glanced back to Boughkit. "I'd rather you not. Please sit outside the den." A pause. "I'll be out."

Boughkit watched as he grabbed another leaf on the rock in the center of the den, then approached Whiskershadow. Whiskershadow lifted his head up, watching as Speckleback pushed the herbs in front of him. Whiskershadow pushed himself to his belly, leaning his head down to eat the herbs.

... She didn't leave. She continued watching as Speckleback reassured Whiskershadow he'd be fine if he just ate. When Speckleback glanced back up, though, she fled the den.

Events Referenced: Boughkit brags about getting used to her bad eye, before being told that it's not a normal thing to experience.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Bee Sting and Misunderstanding (short story)

"Uhm, is everything alright?" Molespots's voice sounded. Myrtlewing glanced over to see him standing in the den entrance, one eyelid lifted halfway up.

Before he entered, Myrtlewing had been doing his chores a little....harshly, claws digging into the moss as he wettened it, grumbling.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the nest, I suppose." Myrtlewing answered. His plan to kill Maplefall had just become so perfectly foolproof when of course, the horrid she-cat had fallen pregnant. He should know--he's the one who confirmed it.

As much as he enjoyed killing his Clanmates, he wasn't a monster. Kits he was fine with. Although he could probably live with killing Maplefall while she was still carrying them--he didn't feel as bad when he didn't meet the kits first--he also needed the Clan to have more warriors. They could either be possible future 'playmates,' or could just allow the Clan to have high enough numbers that no one decides on anything that could ruin his fun, such as rules like 'can't leave the camp unless you're with someone.'

He swept his tail to gesture Molespots in. "What can I do for you?"

"I'd rather not say...could you just look at it?"

"So something embarrassing, then." He examined Molespots for a few seconds as he sat in a nest, and now that he was closer and out of shadow, it was clear that he had been stung, probably by a bee.

"How'd this happen?"

"Is that important?"

"Mm-hm." It wasn't.

"Chased a mouse right into it. A Thunderclan patrol saw too. Can't wait to see those warriors at the next gathering," Molespots sighed. Really, he should be thankful. It was the idea of getting to see that that caused for Myrtlewing to look for the actual needed herbs.

He brought back celandine and blackberry leaves and dropped one on the ground, then chewed the other into a juice. With his head, he indicated for Molespots to tilt his own back. When he did, he held his eye open with two toes, and let the plant trickle in.

Molespots blinked over and over when he was finished, emitting an 'ah' sound that seemed to come from both pleasure and discomfort. Myrtlewing watched to make sure the juice didn't drip out too much as he chewed the leaves into a pulp and pressed it onto the outside of Molespots's eye, then finished up by placing a layer of cobweb over it.

"Thank you," Molespots stood up with a smile. He paused. "What's got you so riled up? When I came in?" When Myrtlewing looked at him, he added, "you helped me without once laughing, I figure I should return the favour."

Myrtlewing was about to refuse when he realized that maybe asking someone who is not foreign to expressing affection was the best way to figure out how to cheer Aldereyes up, now that he can't do it by murder.

But how to word it?

"I..I want to...." kill one of our Clanmates. "Show a good friend..that I care."

"Oh! Ohh."

Myrtlewing tilted his head in confusion as Molespots nodded knowingly. "I want to make them happy," he added, hoping to clear up any misunderstandings.

"Not a she-cat?"

"Uh, no?"

Molespots nodded again. "Okay, I think that's fine then."

Why wouldn't it be?

Molespots thought for a second. "I went through the same thing when I was young. I ended up going with flowers."

"Flowers?"

"Why not? They're pretty, they smell nice, why wouldn't they make someone happy?"

That was fair enough. Yeah, flowers sound good. "Okay, flowers it is. Thanks."

"No problem," Molespots smiled as he padded for the den entrance. "Hopefully he says yes."

Yes?

Yes to what?

--------

--Posted on Wattpad but wanted to add it here!

--For those who don’t know, Maplefall was being a prick to Aldereyes and got him in trouble with his dad. Myrtle was planning on killing her to cheer him up (this was before Aldereyes knew he was a killer, but Myrtle figured he would be happy to have her dead). When he couldn’t do that, he was at a loss, then figured “maybe I could ask someone who’s used to caring about others”.

Only Molespots thought he meant something else.

[circles-and-metaphors]

sometimes i run my nails across my shoulder blade and imagine it’s you. back to the before— i would pre-game our encounters with hot showers and loose-fitting shirts, and the lights are off now, and your hands feel good, and our show is playing for pretense. i guess it was never really yours though, that way i can still call it mine without seeing your fingerprints all over it.

my body is mine. i meant the show. the show is mine.

oh dear, ruined and you never even kissed me. i thought about it in your car when we laid the seats back. anyone could’ve seen us. i would’ve crawled into your body to be closer to you, but i settled for the driver’s seat. i wish you had freckles, so i could have an excuse to linger. what a waste…maybe i could give you mine, press my face against yours like those tacky DIY stamp kits, so you get the impression i am yours. i go to the restaurant and box up half of my sandwich. i am yours. i swear we used to leave without leftovers. i am yours. it’ll go bad in my fridge, and i’ll cry over something rotten, microwave something else for dinner instead, and laugh about how my roommate doesn’t know who you are. i don’t flinch when i get the email that my dorm’s name is the same as your last.

oh, i see. still crawling inside you, am i?

i didn’t know what to say when you told me about the dreams. but you haven’t thought about it like i have. you can press me into hotel doors, and i will imagine quaint cottages. you can get off to the things i let slip: “i want to put my mouth on your legs.” i can work up and you can get worked up. stupid, stupid, stupid. we both know who would’ve been against the wall. at least i was never braver than when i was with you, because i really would’ve admitted to anything.

it’s spilling again, your alarm is going off, and dreams are a heinous thing, aren’t they? maybe that’s why i despise sleeping. who do i need to speak with to straighten out the story? REM hasn’t quite got the memo you don’t look at me like that anymore. why are we in a grocery store? why is the world ending? and why are the rips in your jeans so important? i’m up, i’m up, i’m falling again.

oh, you and the horrible habit are the same? should’ve seen that coming. wouldn’t have bothered locking the closet every night if i knew you were in my bed the whole time. love, you still love me? that’s nice. no, that’s a good one. very you, really, never ceasing to care in that “happy birthday, hope you’re doing well” kind of way. i should’ve kissed you for real instead of talking about how i did it in my head last night.

“you would mess up your first kiss by kissing me?”

darling, mess up everything, please. should’ve gone all or nothing. there’s my father’s voice, saying, “stop crying, or i’ll give you something to really cry over.” would you really? i mean, could you? kiss me? it was always going to hurt anyway. this part deserves a Netflix special. it was hilarious forgetting you used to tuck my hair behind my ear, because i frowned, for a very long time, at why the motion was so familiar. and then it hit me, agonizingly soft and slow. why do you have to be the greatest thing i’ve ever touched? like an idiot. like a real fool. someone call the king! ask if he’s lost a jester.

bet you would’ve loved that, wouldn't you?

"i like being called good.”

yeah, sweetheart, i know. and i would make myself the bad guy just for you. don’t sweat it. this is what we both want, after all—something to stave off the boredom and something to swallow me whole. it works and it’s painful and it’s satiating. you know just where it hurts, just where to touch to make it feel good enough to stay. if you didn’t want to hear me say i loved you, you should’ve kissed it from the tip of my tongue. you should’ve eaten it right up. but you were a coward. or maybe you just liked to hear me run my mouth, and i fell for it. you’re good. you are so good. god, you’re fucking perfect. don’t stop—

i mean it sarcastically, of course, but also devotedly. what? what did you expect? prom night, i fell asleep in your arms in front of everyone. i should've gone to bed with you, should've followed you out when i saw you get up in the middle of the night. you told me you waited for me, and god, (why must you do that?) i could’ve had you with four walls for a few more hours. i should’ve gone to bed with you.

we’re speeding through, i know. a crash course on the crash-and-burn. to be fair, it was out of order when we began. pick any star and start there; you can draw whatever constellation you like best. strangers to enemies to friends to “hypothetically speaking, i think i’m in love with you." jesus, the pins and needles are setting in. i can’t feel my legs anymore.

oh, that wasn’t dirty enough for you? “i would get on my knees and open you up.” better? "i want you to say my name into my neck until it looks like a tattoo." how was that? "i want to hook your ankles over my shoulders, while you—"

ok, I’ll stop. sorry. you know how it is. right before the end times kicked into full gear, i remember this day, on a trampoline, and something about birds. that was the last time i was ever really certain about being sure. and during the apocalypse, when i was positive (but not sure) i was dying in the hospital, it was you on my mind. maybe that’s why i was scared out of it. i thought we weren’t allowed to occupy the same space anymore. you can take the vital organs, i guess. leave me the limbs.

...yes, i hate summer. yes, it’s because of you. yes, i’m always sorry.

i don’t write for you anymore, but i still i still i still i still i still i still i still i still

write for you.

i didn't come until you left (12. 29. 23)

[ameliora-j]

what a lie // ts x reader

words: 1.5k

warnings: angst, smut, mcd, blood, mention of injury, nipple play, pull out method (pls don’t use this irl), pregnancy mention

a/n: this is only half proofread but as always, lmk if i missed any warnings pls. italics is a flashback :)

“you’ll be okay, little dove,” thor whispered as he set a comforting hand on your shoulder.

“we’ll all be okay, y/n,” steve added, accompanied by a hiccup and a small sniffle from his spot next to you. you could no longer contain the loud sob that raked your body as you set down the flower reef that held your fiance’s arc reactor in the center and read: proof that tony stark has a heart.

the blonde super soldier pulled you into his chest and allowed you to harshly sob into his suit coat. tony was your forever. and he just got ripped away from you.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

you walked into the grandiose building called “stark industries” one--very sunny--monday morning. you went to the desk and were greeted with a very pretty blonde woman. “can i help you?” she asked you.

“yeah i um... have a meeting with tony stark. he... he told me to come and meet him here,” you stuttered shyly. 

“ah, you must be y/n,” you nodded and she offered you a smile, leading you into tony’s office. that day, he hired you as his personal assistant. however, at the time, you had no idea what was to come of that one fateful day.

in the coming weeks as tony’s assistant, you picked up his coffee, and scheduled his press conferences, and answered e-mails, and scheduled his meetings, and answered the phone. in that time, you had also become closer to the man you called your boss. you might even go as far as to call the two of you friends.

tony was really funny. whether it was intentionally or not. he told a lot of jokes, and he was nothing like the media painted him out to be. he was nice and caring. he was also very attentive. he stopped turning the ac so high when he noticed that you would always bring a jacket into the office, and he kept little candies laying around for your sweet tooth, and he always had your favorite pack of pens delivered weekly because you were always losing your’s and stealing his. he even let you sign all of his important documents with your pretty, purple glittery pens because he knew you liked them the best. 

not to mention, tony bought you a whole set of y/f/c office supplies for your desk after you called his decoration “bland and boring.” everyday working for mr. stark was a brand new adventure and you absolutely couldn’t wait to see what the future held for you at stark industries.

you learned a lot about tony while you were working. you were the first person that he revealed his identity as iron man to. you, of course, freaked out, lecturing him on safety and being careful while fighting literal aliens, all while he chuckles and assured you that he was fine. one night--or early morning is a better term for it--there was a knock on your window. when you checked your bedside clock, the numbers “2:23″ flashed across it in bright red. when you looked over to the window, you noticed tony in the iron man suit, floating outside of your window.

“what the hell stark?! it’s half past two in the morning!” you complained as you opened the window and allowed him in. he grumbled loudly as he took off the suit and stumbled his way into your bathroom. he ignored you as you flung a million and two questions in his direction. untill finally, you noticed the blood running down the left side of his face. “what the hell!” you exclaimed before leading him to sit down on your toilet seat. you took the small first aid kit from underneath your bathroom sink and began to clean him up while simultaneously muttering what an idiot he was and how he could have been killed.

once you were all finished, you looked down at him. you had seen tony monday through friday for ten hours a day and sometimes on weekends if he had a press conference on a saturday or needed you to come in quickly and do something on a sunday, but this was the first time that you had truly noticed him. cuts and scrapes and bruises over his face, his hair sweaty and some falling into his eyes. those eyes... pretty, brown, and tired. the way that his facial hair had begun to grow on his jaw as a result of not shaving that morning. tony stark was gorgeous... ethereal even. you knew your boss was an attractive man, the media said it every day. hell, your boss said it himself every day. but now, actually looking at him, you saw it. you truly saw it, anthony howard stark was quite possibly the prettiest man you had ever laid your eyes upon. 

you and tony sat in silence. it was in that silence that you realized your current position. the only thing donning your body was a very short pair of black sleep shorts that really didn’t cover much and a black tank top with no bra. you were standing above tony, straddling his left thigh and your faces were mere centimeters apart. the silence was long and loud as you stared, unblinking, into each other’s eyes. it was a hairs breath of a second when tony’s eyes flicked from your’s to your lips, and then back up before he was hungrily pressing his lips to your’s.

the kiss was nothing but the clashing of teeth and tongues. it had you moaning into his mouth as he stood and quickly pushed you against your bathroom counter. he wasted no time as he quickly rid the both of you of your clothes. “you have protection?” he asked from his place, sucking dark hickies into every inch of your neck.

“just pull out, please i want it,” you whimpered as you tugged on his chocolate locks. your whimpers and begs were all the encouragement the man needed as he pushed his cock into you, making you release a loud moan.

the way tony fucked you was a stark (no pun intended) contrast to the way he kissed you. his thrusts were slow and deliberate, hitting spots you never even knew existed, while his kisses were rough and hungry. “feel so good wrapped around me, princess. fuck,” tony moaned into your mouth.

“fuck, tony please. more. give me more,” you whined, causing him to chuckle as his lips traveled down, sucking your nipple into his mouth as his hand came up and twisted and tugged the other one. “feels so good. ‘s so big,” you whimpered as he fucked his cock into you even harder. he moaned at your praise as his teeth scraped across your sensitive nipple before he pulled off of it with a small ‘pop’ and began giving the same attention to the other one.

“always knew your little pussy was made for my cock, princess. knew it from the day you stepped into my office. looking all innocent, just begging me to bend you over my desk and make you mine,” you moaned loudly at this, causing him to smirk. “that what you want? come on, use your words, princess.”

“wanna be your’s. make me your’s tony please. want you to corrupt me. ruin me for anyone else’s cock.” you whined out pathetically as the head of his cock abused your gspot.

“who’s pussy is this?” he asked as he began to rub harsh circles onto your swollen clit.

“your’s. your’s ‘s your’s please let me cum,” you whimpered as you arched into him. 

“cum on my cock princess, go ahead,” that’s all it took for you to cum with a loud shriek of his name. he continued his assault on your clit to fuck you through your orgasm as he pulled out and used his free hand to stroke his cock untill he came with a groan of your name, all over your stomach.

that night, after tony took care of you and made sure you peed and were cleaned up, as he pulled you into his chest, you whispered, “can i really be your’s?” 

“you can be mine forever if you want princess.” you fell asleep with a wide smile on your face.

⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊⎊

you stayed at the lake after all the avengers had left. you sat against the tree with your left hand on your stomach, staring down at the large ring that tony presented you with just days before going to fight on titan. the one that was supposed to symbolize forever. the one that made tony stark your official future husband. 

“i’m pregnant tony...” you whispered as the tears collected on your waterline. “you promised forever. you promised that everything was going to be okay five years ago,” you took a deep breath as you rubbed the small, three month bump that was forming. “what a lie that was.”

how the hell were you going to raise a baby by yourself. how were you supposed to go on without your other half? how were you supposed to heal your heart? your baby would never know how amazing their father was. and your husband would never know how amazing his baby was. it still didn’t feel real. it never would feel real.

but you would figure it out. after all... you were a stark now. and stark’s are nothing if not strong-willed.

[hero-nerd]

Hello,

I have seen your post about doing headcanon about the batfam. So could you do a headcanon where the reader (who is not a vigilant) is Jason Todd friend whom he can talk about anything, at whose place he can crash anytime and who is ready to help him get out of his problem, please ?

Thank you and have a nice day

This is my first tumblr request, and my first headcanons with reader as a character. Thank you so much for requesting, and I hope you like it!

Jason Todd and Reader Friend

You met Jason at the library you volunteer at, he’s a regular

It took a while for him to warm up to you, but once he got into the conversations he really gots into them

To the point he would plan his visits to when you were volunteering so you could talk

After a while you switched numbers so you could talk outside of your weekly library meet ups

Through text, both of you were able to open up even more

It wasn’t uncommon for you two to stay up late texting, telling each other things you never told anyone else before

One day when you were at your apartment, you got a text from Jason saying he was in a lot of trouble and you needed help

You immediately broke the unspoken no calling rule you two had been following and worriedly called him right then and there

Jason’s voice was strained and his breathing heavy as he explained to you he needed a place to lie low from some people that were looking for him

You gave him your address and stayed on the phone with him as he made his way there

He kept talking about a secret he needed to tell you, and every word got you more worried

“I’m outside your window,” he said after a while. “Just…..don’t freak out.”

There was a tap on your window and you turned around to see none other than the infamous Red Hood perched on your window sill

You froze, phone still pressed to your ear, unravel to believe what you were saying

Red Hood spoke into a phone and Jason’s voice came out of your phone

“I can explain,” he said, “Please let me in.”

You managed to make yourself unfreeze and you hung up the phone and opened the window to let him in

Red Hood climbed through your window and pulled off his mask, revealing that it was, in fact, Jason

He looked horrible, like he’d been beat up, and he was bleeding from his arm

“What happened?” You asked before you could stop yourself

“It’s nothing,” Jason said, but you grabbed your first aid kit to help him anyway

Despite his protests, you helped with his injuries while he gave his promised explanation

He told you everything, from how he became Robin to his death to his journey becoming Red Hood

You were unable to speak at first, it was a lot to take in

However once you did, you sort of just rolled with it

Yeah, sure, Jason was a vigilante, but he was still your friend

After that night, you two were truly able to tell each other everything

Jason made sure you were protected and safe from everything that happened in his world

And you gave him an outlet to be a normal guy every once in a while

The worlds still crossed every once in a while

You took first aid classes so when Jason came to your apartment injured you could help

You were always there to listen when he needed to talk about a case or something that happened, but he always made sure to leave out any specific details that could get you targeted

It turned into him just dropping by sometime after patrol when he needed a break before going home, or just wanted to see you

And you got more involved, helping him solve some of his cases, giving the outside view that he needed

Now that you knew both sides of Jason Todd, you two were closer than ever and knew you could always be there when the other needed it

[scarlet2007]

BTS reaction #1:- When they kidnapped you. Hyung line.

Warning:- Kidnapping, stalking, mental illness, hacking, yandere! bts, mafia, use of drug, guns.

Masterlist.

Seokjin/Jin.

You sighed as you walk towards Seokjin's room. Working at an asylum is hard and exhausting, especially if your working for the most wanted serial killer who also runs a mafia and does killing as his 'hobby'. You don't understand why they gave you his case, you have just started your carrier, maybe cause you are the only person willing to put up with his disturbing shit.

"Why are you looking as if you are sick, princesses?" Ah, there he is sitting on his chair calling you by the nickname he gave you in your first week of attending him.

"Cause I am sick, Jin," I looked at him, you still wonder how he has not murdered you. You were sure that you were digging your own grave but somehow the mafia leader takes a liking to you, which you don't know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe he was a bit too touchy but he never really made you uncomfortable, just some innocent hugs and kisses, nothing much or nothing less. You don't have a problem with it as long as he was taking his medicines and therapy.

"Then you shouldn't be here, Princess, and I told you not to come here today why didn't you listened to my warning?" He came closer as you closed the door, he was towering you as he was taller than you and more build-up then you can ever get, it's not like you were a sporty person. You are a lazy potato.

"Jin, it's not the first time you told me that. All those time you warned me not to come at work, nothing happened. Now-" Before you can finish your sentence the emergency alarm went off, warning you that something was wrong.

"What the-? Jin, stay right here! I am going out to check what's going on." You were about to go outside when you heard gunshots coming from outside followed by screaming. Your body froze from the fear you were feeling, seems like someone broke in or a patient got there hands on a gun.

"I told you not to come here today, princess. Now you have to watch these all, my poor innocent baby." Jin walked towards you as you back away from him, maybe this is how you will die, at the hands of a mafia leader who do killing as his 'hobby'.

"Don't come near me, Kim Seokjin, or else I will hurt you." You said in a fake confident voice but your legs gave you out, they were shaking from terror. The gunshots continued outside, the screaming of terror and pain followed by it. Maybe, just maybe, you should have listened to him this time.

"Don't be scared, Princess. I will protect you, don't worry my men will not hurt you as they have given strict instructions to not to just you." He pulled your cowering self in his arms and kissed your head.

"Please...Jin- Let me go, please..." You begged helplessly as your tears began to ruin his shirt, not that he minds it. The door opened and a guy came with a gun, he looked at Seokjin and hand him a bolt, you can't see it because Seokjin pressed your head against his chest.

"Shhh, Princess. Go to sleep." Seokjin pressed a cloth, which you didn't even notice he had, to you mouth as you struggle before the drug kick in your system and you start to lose consciousness.

"Now you are all mine, Princess, all mine and only mine." That was the last thing you heard as your world went black.

Yoongi/Suga.

Yoongi was leaning against the alley wall as he was outside the club he owns as he was smoking, his right hand was bleeding since he just beat someone to death. He has dumped the body on a dumpster, which was were that bastard belongs. He heard some light footsteps but he didn't look up assuming that it was one of his men but when a bandage came in his view he looked up because his men know better than to offer him a bandage. He looked at the person offering him a bandage, he was surprised to see a girl, probably in her early 20s, wearing pyjamas smiling to him.

"Here, you are bleeding Mr." She offered him the bandage which he ignored.

"What are you doing here? This place is not for girls like you, go away before something happens." She made an offended face.

"What do you mean by 'Girls like me?' Just cause I am wearing a pyjamas doesn't mean you can judge me! Here take this bandage." She hands him the bandage but stopped as she eyed the cancer stick on his none injured hand.

"Huh, seems like I have to patch you up since your other hand is busy with that cancer stick." She sighed as she starts to take care of his hand. Yoongi looked at her face silently, wondering why is she not running away from him.

"All done!" She proudly said as she looks at Yoongi's hand. Yoongi looks at his hand, the bandage was done nicely, it even has a cute little bear character. Her phone chimed loudly, startling her.

"Oh? Yeah, yeah, I am coming! Stay where you are! Don't go anywhere!" She starts to walk to the main entrance of the club.

She looks back at Yoongi and yelled," Don't smoke, Mister! It's bad for your health! Take care of your wound, bye!"

Yoongi's eyes followed her as she helps a drunken girl who looks to be her friend into a car. As the car drove away, Yoongi realised that he didn't even get her name. He cursed and kick the wall angrily. Maybe, he will bump into her again.

The next time Yoongi meet you was at a cafe, you were getting a smoothie when Yoongi thanked you for that night.

He asked where did she get the bandage from and you answered by saying that you always carry a mini first aid kit in your car. By the end of the conversation, Yoongi gets to know her name, her number and her.

After that, both of them start to hang out more until Yoongi decided that its time to carry out the plan he has planned. He knows that the instant she finds out that he runs a mafia she is going to run away, which he wouldn't allow. That is why here she is, now drugged, laying on his bed in his mansion. He knows that what he is doing is insane and she is going to hate him for that but in the end, she has to love him again, she has to.

Hoseok/J-hope.

Hoseok first noticed you when you came with your best friend to his dance class, your best friend was looking after you as your mother was out of town.

You and your best friend entered the dance class, "Good evening, sir!" Your best friend exclaimed, making other students look at your way.

"Good evening! Oh? Whose that besides you?" Hoseok looks at you with curious eyes.

"This is my best friend, Y/N! I hope you don't mind her here since I have to look after her cause her mom is in another town."

"Oh, I thought she was your sister since both of you are wearing matching clothes and I don't mind her, why don't you join us, Y/N!"

"Sure, I guess." Those were the first word you said to him.

The dance session went smoothly, you were a born dancer, picking choreography quickly and even help some other students with some complicated moves.

All the things went smoothly until your mother came back to town since your best friend no longer needs to look after you, you stop coming with her to the dance classes.

Hoseok was disappointed to know that but at least he has your number.

From that day onward you and Hoseok start talking to each other every day, each day Hoseok obsession with you increased little by little.

Until one day, he kidnapped, it was not that difficult since you trust him enough to come to an abandoned place without telling anyone where you were going.

"Ohh, little one. I have dreamed of this day from day one, to have you in my arms, protected by me. Now no one can see you or steal you away from me, you are all mine and only mine.

Namjoon/RM.

All you ever wanted was a friend, was that too much to ask for? Well, it seems like it was since here you are hand and legs tied with a thick rope with a ducted tape on your mouth, preventing you from shouting for help.

You tried to make yourself as small as possible as the door opened, revealing you're so-called online best friend.

If only you never went on to message him in the first place, if only you stop talking to him after you told him that he got the wrong number. But you didn't, instead, you keep talking to him, ignoring all the red flags. You just wanted a friend but what you got? A hacker who used to stalk you through your webcam, who has now kidnapped you. You wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be a psychopath- wait he already is since normal people don't kidnap people daily.

You could never agree to meet him at his house, you could at least told someone where you were going and with who you were meeting but you didn't since you knew that your parents will oppose the idea of you meeting a strange who you only know online.

"Aww, look at you, all curled up. It must be cold and lonely without me right?" No, it wasn't but now it's suffocating that you are here, you wanted to say that but you can't because of the tape and all you don't have a death wish, who knows what this psychopath can do to you if you angered him.

"Now that you are here, where you belong, why don't we get to know each other in person? Well, I know everything about you so it would be fair if you know everything about me too but let's not hurry since you are going to spend your whole life here. Aww, don't cry, I know that you are happy to hear it but don't cry, baby. It makes me feel like I have done something wrong."

Namjoon's reaction is a bit shorter than the other, sorry about that. This is my first ever reaction so please bear with me. I hope you guys like it!

[sserpente]

A/N: Request from @wrenstrange! Put up the decorations, it’s finally time again! Enjoy, everyone!

Words: 1957 Warnings: pure fluff, blood sample/needle/syringe, soft!Loki, fatique, fainting

You dropped like a piece of wood right about when you were making yourself a cup of tea in the kitchen. Knees ceasing to support you any longer, vision darkening, stars dancing around you making you dizzy. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and before you knew it, your body finally won and shut down.

Although if you could have chosen, you would not have fallen straight into Loki’s arms whose reflexes caught you, preventing you from hitting the hard floor beneath you. He cradled you with his brows furrowed, his blue gaze almost helpless as he looked at Thor and Stark for support.

Then, everything went black.

-

“Welcome back.” You blinked, the artificial lights above your head blinding you. A hand held you down when you attempted to sit up drowsily. Bruce was leaning against a metal table in Tony’s lab, hands crossed before his chest and with a concerned expression on his face. “You blacked out,” he explained, “out of the blue.”

“How are you feeling?” Tony added.

You only realised then that it was Loki who had held you down. He was sitting on a chair right next to the makeshift bed they had carried into Tony’s lab and he was observing you with Argus eyes. Your heart sped up when you noticed. You usually tended to avoid the God of Mischief at all cost. There was a part of you that was afraid of him after watching him making an entire crowd kneel in Stuttgart, the other was hands down swooning over him. It had all started when he had rescued a cat from a tree, honouring a cliché he had not even been aware of. But someone who helped defenceless little kittens had to have a soft heart deep down, no?

Thor had brought him to Earth along with him after Asgard had been destroyed. He could not exactly be considered an Avenger but he had long surpassed the villain image… at least, to some extent. Well, you were no Avenger either. You used to be a SHIELD intern and then somehow ended up with the superheroes themselves. Apart from some basic fighting skills and the ability to use a gun, you had been trained to spend most of your time in front of a computer, often working twelve hours or even more a day. What did they say? Evil never sleeps.

“Any idea what might have caused this?” Bruce continued.

You shook your head. “No. But I’ve been having migraines and a persistent fatigue that just won’t go away.”

“I see… anything else?”

“Um…”

“You can talk to us, (Y/N).”

“Well, I… I’ve been dizzy a lot lately but that sometimes happens during my special week of the month so I didn’t think anything of it.” You took a deep breath but hesitated.

“And?”

“I’ve been sweating way more when working out. Like, a lot more. Instead of making progress… I feel like I’m getting weaker every day. It’s frustrating.”

“Uh-huh. I’m taking a blood sample. FRIDAY will run a couple of tests on you to figure out what’s wrong.”

“What? No! Nothing’s wrong! We don’t need a b-blood sample.”

“No one faints for no reason, (Y/N), especially not on Loki.” Loki rolled his eyes but did not leave your side, even when Bruce started fiddling around with some gear and apparently, a first-aid kit and then approached you with a syringe and a small clear vial.

“I’ve done this a million times before, I’ll be gentle.”

“No! No, no blood test, Bruce, please!” Almost hysterically, you moved back on the bed, your heart in your mouth.

“(Y/N),” Loki suddenly said calmly. You shivered when he spoke your name, his head tilted slightly. “Are you afraid of needles?”

“N-n-no…” You lied. Loki raised an eyebrow.

“Look at me.” He said. Hesitating only a little, you did as you were told. It wasn’t like his tone allowed any contradiction anyway. In fact, it reminded you a lot of his strict and bossy tone when he had caused chaos in Germany. “It has to be done. Hold my hand and do not take your eyes off of me.”

“Who are you and what you have done to Reindeer Games?” Tony tossed in, throwing the Trickster a suspicious glance. Loki rolled his eyes once more. As if he had any obligation to explain himself to Stark of all people.

In the meantime, you were panicking even more. Loki was being nice and considerate with you and Bruce was about to pierce your skin with a needle. Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck… your breathing sped up.

“Look. At. Me.” Loki repeated. You obeyed this time, allowing him to take your hand and press it gently. Much to your surprise, it immediately calmed you down a little. You gaped at him unbelievingly. You didn’t even feel the needle going into your skin and drawing blood. Wait… was he casting a spell on you?

“There. All done.” You could not bring yourself to look where Bruce brought your blood sample but when both Tony and he stepped away and turned their backs on you, you swallowed.

“T-thank you…” You had to ask—not because you did not think he was not capable of offering his help without seeking a personal advantage and not because you didn’t think he was too evil to even think about being selfless… but because you were genuinely curious about his motivation. Loki did nothing without a reason, he was always one step ahead. “You put a spell on me, didn’t you?”

He nodded. “Why… why did you do that for me?”

“We are all afraid of something.” It was the only response he gave you. For a few moments, you merely sat there quietly, neither of you uttering a single word. Only when Bruce and Tony returned did you realise that Loki was still holding your hand.

“Okay… I’ve got the results from your blood test and FRIDAY couldn’t find anything suspicious.” Tony announced, scrolling on his tablet. Bruce adjusted his glasses to take a peek.

“You said you’ve been feeling tired? You sweat a lot, you get dizzy, and I’m presuming you barely have an appetite?”

“I don’t have time to eat a lot to be honest…” You confirmed.

“Any concentration problems?”

Pressing your lips together to a thin line, you thought about it for a moment. Now that he mentioned it… it had gotten obnoxiously hard to focus on your work lately. Eventually, you nodded.

“Sounds like severe exhaustion to me.” Bruce said. “Do you have issues with low blood pressure or diabetes or any other medical condition? No, FRIDAY would have found something like that. You know what I think? You overworked yourself.”

“Like… a burnout?” You probed.

“Most definitely.”

You grunted. Oh, that was just great. There you were, attempting to squeeze in regular workouts in this awesome training hall the Avengers called the HARM room after work to get stronger and hence, eventually gather up the courage to speak to Loki and now you looked exactly like what you did not want him to see you as—a weak and meagre human.

“The best medicine would be for you to quit work for a while and stop physical exercise altogether.”

“Banner is right,” Tony added. “Take a few weeks off and rest, sleep in, eat more and healthy… the whole program. I officially give you a holiday.”

“You’re not my boss, Tony, you can’t give me a holiday.” Your smile was weak. “But I don’t have time for this anyway! I can’t believe this is happening so soon before Christmas!” You whined. “I can’t stay in bed, I’ve got so much to do! I have to buy presents and decorate and bake biscuits and make gingerbread… Besides, I’m gonna fall behind on all the data.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take care of that. Let me talk to Fury. You let us know if you need anything. Can you take her to her room, Reindeer Games? And please, no funny business.” Beside you, Loki was just frowning, utterly ignoring the billionaire’s request.

“Why were you pushing yourself so hard?” He finally spoke when the two Avengers had left—whether it was genuine confusion or mere curiosity in his voice, you were not sure. “Why were you training for battle in the first place? I have never seen you out on a mission.”

You sighed. Time to let the cat out of the bag, it wasn’t like you were still going to make a good impression on him anymore now.

“I wanted to impress you, I guess…”

“Impress me?” Loki repeated incredulously.

“Yeah… catch your attention… in a way. I mean, part of me is still terrified of you, of course but… you have a good heart, Loki. I knew when I saw you rescuing that cat from the tree.”

The God of Mischief rolled his eyes. “I knew this was going to damage my reputation.” He responded with a sly smirk, making you grin. “It was an innocent kitten, what was I supposed to do?”

“See?”

Your heart skipped a beat when his blue eyes locked with yours. He appeared… uncertain; not used to dealing with affection. Loki swallowed.

“Can you walk?”

“I’m not sure…”

The God of Mischief sighed, his lips pressed together to a thin line. Without any hesitation, he snuck one of his arms under your knees and wrapped the other around your waist. He lifted you off the makeshift bed as if you weighed nothing—and to him, you probably didn’t.

Loki carried you to your room in utter silence and eventually lay you down in your bed. Your heart jumped when he sat down on the edge of the bed himself, with a peculiar interest in his hands so he would not have to look you in the eye.

“There is no need to impress me.” He suddenly said. Your head shot up. “I did not think anyone would even… never mind.”

Oh. It almost felt like you were finally getting to know each other, for real this time.

“Do you want to stay for a while? I was going to watch some Christmas movies if I’m not allowed to get out of bed.” You sighed. “I can’t even decorate. You have no idea how many decorations I have to put up. None of the others care to make it a little more festive here, especially not Fury.”

“Yes, I have seen the boxes.” Loki replied. “It’s a little… corny, wouldn’t you say?”

“Honestly, when living among superheroes who risk their lives every single day, you could use a little corny.”

“I see.” Loki simply waved his hand and before you knew it, your entire room was decorated. Green and red tinsel shimmered on your window sill, holiday lights were blinking above your door and fake—but incredibly real-looking—snowflakes hung from the ceiling. Many of your favourite decoration items were now sitting on your nightstand and your desk, including your tiny little Christmas tree. The rest of the decorations, so it seemed, Loki must have spread all over the Tower.

“Oh my Goodness… Loki, this is amazing!” The God of Mischief winked and when you looked down on yourself, you noticed you too were wearing a green and gold Christmas sweater. Heavens, you could kiss him. “Thank you so much! What did you… is the entire Tower…”

“Yes.” He confirmed. He didn’t have to. Tony did only a fraction of a second later.

“Thor! Can you tell me why my Ironman helmet just grew metal antlers? I swear to God, if Reindeer Games has something to do with this…” It was then you exploded with laughter despite your exhaustion.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[ashes-in-a-jar]

And I Owe it All to You

Hello! This is a fic I wrote based on @speakerunfolding 's wonderful Jonmartin scottish cabin comic which I couldn't stop looking at.

I wrote this while watching Dirty Dancing for the first time in many years. Quite an experience xD

Summary: It's a night in for Jon and Martin in the cabin and they decide to pop out the wine.

Rated: T

Word count: 2.2K

Tw: alcohol, drinking and being slightly drunk, minor injuries

Maybe it was the fact that neither of them had gone out much in the past few months. Maybe the Fears prefer their avatars lightweight. Maybe Scottish alcohol tended to be stronger than English alcohol. But the sparkling wine they bought on a whim at the village store shouldn't have had the effect on them that it did.

Having emptied two cups each (Jon was actually drinking out of a mug, since they found only one wine glass, and he conceded the honor of feeling classy to Martin) they have already become giggling messes over some dumb joke regarding one Peter Lukas and a computer that refused to boot.

It wasn't even that funny. But there they were, acting like complete fools leaning against each other on the couch, legs propped up in a completely uncomfortable position on the small living room table (dangerously close to the now nearly empty bottle), holding their cups precariously in one hand and holding hands with the other.

And enjoying every moment of it.

The giggling subsided. They took a moment of comfortable silence to regain their breath and enjoy another sip.

"Can't believe he didn't know he could just u-unplug and replug the whole thing. Even I know that." Jon's speech was ever so slightly slurred, his leftover wine sloshing in his cup.

Martin hummed and then snorted.

"Jon, you barely know how to do that either. I had to teach you how to open new tabs in the same internet window for christ's sake."

"It was a new laptop! All of the buttons were in the wrong p-place." Jon protested weakly, starting to hiccup.

"Sure."

"Prick." Jon nudged him fondly. "You underestimate my vast knowledge of 'modern' things."

Martin snorted again. "Modern, you say?"

"Yes Martin, what do you take me for?"

"An old geezer." Martin tousled his hair gently. Jon leaned into the touch. Then, the words sunk in.

"Hey! Why do you and Georgie keep thinking that? I can know pop culture!"

"Oh yeah? Tell me, what do you know?"

"Uh..." Jon struggled to straighten himself, which resulted in actually sliding further off the couch. "Um...I know S-Star Wars! And uh, Matrix? I think. I've seen it once. Oh! That, that dinosaur movie! And... Titanic?" He finished unconvincingly. 

Martin looked at him, raising an eyebrow. "Really, Jon? You're just naming movies now.  And not even new ones. Did you actually watch any of those?"

Jon avoided his gaze "I... I may have fallen asleep during uh, during some of these?"

Martin gave him a long look. 

"Yes alright, I fell asleep in all of them."

Martin huffed "Thought so". 

Jon gave up trying to salvage his dignity, taking a final long gulp from his mug, a small drop trickling down his chin. Martin swiped it away, absent-mindedly licking his finger, not noticing as Jon hiccuped, his face heating up considerably. 

"I-I did like the Princess Bride though— that was a nice film, if a bit sensational." 

"Hang on. You watched the Princess Bride? And liked it?" Martin asked, incredulous. 

"I'm allowed to like things, Martin. B-besides, Georgie made me watch it. Said it was a- a core staple of cinema history o-or something."

"Oh yeah? Did she make you watch those other movies as well?" Martin asked casually, swirling the liquid in his cup. 

"Unfortunately yes. She would cruelly  shake me awake when I finally managed to get some shut-eye for once in my life. I-it's not my fault the only times I could sleep normally were during those, those damn films! She woke me up for that ridiculous scene with the, uh, the bullets in the Matrix. And that lifting scene in that unseemly dancing movie."

"What lifting scene?" 

"That movie with all of the dancing? Th-the one where he lifts her at the end in the middle of the crowd with that song? At least, uh, at least I think there was a lot of dancing, I wasn't actually, hmmm... Focused at the time." 

"Oh my god Jon, do you mean Dirty Dancing? You fell asleep during Dirty Dancing?" Martin's delighted incredulity was plain on his face. 

Jon scrunched up his nose. "That's the name of the film? Good thing I fell asleep then."

"Jesus Jon. That's incredible, good on Georgie! Heh, at least you woke up for that scene. It's iconic, you know." 

"Yes, yes." Jon waved at him dismissively, reaching unsteadily for the wine bottle. Martin gently took it away from Jon and with a much steadier hand, poured the remaining bit of wine into his mug.

"Thank you Martin," Jon mumbled into the cup. 

Another warm silence fell on them, lulling Jon into a half drunken stupor. He nearly threw his cup in the air when Martin's words startled him back into awareness. 

"I can do that scene you know, that lifting part." He was looking intently at his glass. 

"R-really?" Jon hiccuped. "How?" 

"I… I had a boyfriend who wanted to try it. So we did. Turns out that I'm good at balancing large things that aren't stacks of paper."

Jon hummed. He suddenly imagined very vividly Martin lifting someone else in that way and felt a pang in his chest. What was that?

Another beat of silence. 

"Do. Do you want to try?"

"W-what?" 

"Do you want to do that lifting scene with me? I'm sure I could lift you." Martin suddenly sat up, his tone excited and anticipating. He looked at Jon. 

Jon shifted. "Uh, I-I guess it's fine? Sure."

"Okay! Let's do it then!" Martin got up on his feet, swaying ever so slightly. 

Jon looked up at him surprised. "W-wait, now? Shouldn't we wait? You know, to be less uh, inebriated? Don't you need to see the scene again for a reminder?"

"Mmm. We don't have reception so I can't exactly watch the scene again. But, but I'm pretty sure I can do it now, definitely sure! Come on." He held out his hand expectantly. 

Jon took it, stumbling only a bit as he got up. Martin took out his phone . 

"I might even have the song saved. Let me check."

A moment later he gave a whoop of success and the song began to play, filling the main space of the cabin with its soft, if slightly tinny sound. 

Jon stretched, releasing the tension in his muscles. "All right Martin, where do you want me?" 

"You need a bit of a running start, and then you need to jump high right as you reach my arms, so stand over there." He indicated towards the door of the bedroom. 

"Right." Jon stumbled only once as he made his way towards the designated spot. Martin moved across the room stopping right near the kitchen door. 

The song kept playing calmly in the background, slowly building up towards the upbeat chorus. 

Jon looked at him again "I dunno Martin. A-are you sure?" He suddenly felt a bit more fuzzy than he did sitting down. He hiccuped again. 

"Please Jon, you're thin as a rake. Have a little faith." His face wore that determined look that Jon couldn't help but love. 

"Alright, as you wish." He grinned, proud of his clever reference as he took his stance. 

Martin rolled his eyes as well as his sleeves. "Steady on Westley, this is the part."

Jon felt a rush of excitement as he caught Martin's enthusiasm. "Ready?" He asked, bouncing a little on his feet in preparation. 

"Ready." Martin crouched a little, holding out his arms. 

As the chorus neared Jon, with a wild drunken energy, took his running start, jumping up as he reached Martin, grabbing on to his shoulders for support. Martin firmly gripped Jon's hips, bent his legs and with a strained grunt lifted Jon in the air as the song reached a crescendo. 

Jon was flying. 

He laughed giddily, stretching out his arms in elation. 

As Martin continued holding him in his strong grip he looked down at his beautiful boyfriend. Despite the exertion, Martin looked up with the softest expression as the song kept playing for them in the background. 

For a moment everything was perfect. 

And then Martin leaned backwards a bit too far. 

In hindsight, they should have known this would happen. While Martin was better at hiding it, he was as drunk as Jon. And Jon's already impeded balance certainly didn't help. 

As they went down, Jon idly wondered if they could also recreate the rest of the dance if they practiced. And then he hit his nose on the floor. 

After a moment of stunned silence the pain rushed in and Jon grunted. 

Turns out that while most of him was protected from the fall by Martin's soft and sturdy body, his knee also missed the mark and crashed into the floor as well.

Muffled by Jon's body above him, Martin squirmed. "Ugh, Jon, are you okay?"

When Jon didn't respond, Martin groaned and picked himself off the floor, lifting Jon in the process. 

"Oh my god, Jon! You're bleeding!" 

Jon's face throbbed. And so did his knee. His hazy drunken state began fading away as the pain sharpened. 

"I-I think I hit something." 

"I'm so sorry Jon! God, where are the tissues?" Seemingly having sobered up considerably, Martin picked Jon up and carried him bodily into the bathroom. Jon allowed all of this to happen as the shock of the fall dissipated. He let Martin easily lift him onto the sink counter as he shoved a towel into his hands.

"Hold it against your nose while I... Jesus, your knee too?" He stepped back now hurriedly lifting the stained pant leg to reveal the damage. 

"God, Jon I'm so sorry. Hold still, I'm going to find the first aid kit. We shouldn't have done this. This was a complete disaster." 

He kept muttering irritably as he walked away. Jon sighed and pressed the towel to his throbbing nose. His foggy mind still felt as though it was trying to catch up to the recent chain of events. He spoke slowly, attempting to convey himself with clarity. 

"Martin, it's fine. Honestly, I think we both know I've had worse-" 

"You nearly broke your bloody neck! God, where's that goddamn kit." He shouted from across the cabin as Jon heard the rattling of drawers being forcefully pulled open. 

"Martin, please I-I'm okay. It's just a little bit of bruising. It honestly already feels better." 

And it actually did. In the chaos after the fall, they both forgot Jon's... situation. Jon watched as the cut on his knee slowly closed up, leaving only the drying stain of blood behind. The pain in his nose was slowly vanishing as well. 

By the time Martin came back holding the bag, Jon already put down the towel and was tentatively poking at the previously bruised spot. 

Martin stopped in front of him, looking at him with a mixture of emotions Jon couldn't parse out. He smiled at Martin hesitantly. 

"See? Good as new. No harm no foul, I say."

Martin let out a long suffering sigh and took the towel out of Jon's hands. He quietly dampened it in the sink and stepped closer to gently pat at his face. 

Jon looked at him. This close he could practically count his faded freckles, follow every line and trace every mark that was so beautifully Martin. He let himself smile. 

"I must say, I'm quite impressed by your strength, if we weren't so inebriated, I'm sure you could have kept me up there for quite a while," he said quietly, enjoying the fluttering touches. 

"It wasn't because I was drunk." Martin muttered. 

"Pardon?" 

"I said it wasn't because I was drunk that I dropped you," he said a little louder, oddly flustered. "I was looking at... At you. You just looked... I dunno, happy, I guess? I just never seen that expression on you before and it..." He trailed off, concentrating intently on Jon's knee, finishing up cleaning up the blood. 

"M-Martin, look at me. Please look up here." Jon gently tugged at his shoulders to pull him up. At this height, sitting on the counter, he actually came face to face with Martin, seeing his blush and ruffled expression right in front of him as opposed to slightly above him like he normally did 

He lifted his palms to bracket Martin's warm cheeks. 

"There you are," he whispered and leaned in for a quick kiss. He then leaned back slightly. "You know that I'm perfectly happy. Here with you. Y-you know that, right?" 

Martin looked at him for a few moments, then smiled. "Yeah, I do."

"Good. Now, help me down so we can clean up the wine stain, which I'm sure is growing on the carpet right now."

"Wha- oh," Martin said as he turned to see the fallen glass that apparently toppled during the mayhem. 

"Yeah. Let me down?" Jon said again, holding out his arms. 

Martin turned back to him, a teasing expression on his face. "As you wish." 

Jon groaned and allowed himself once again to be pulled, secretly enjoying Martin's burst of giggles as they both walked back into the crime scene that was their drunken night in. 

All things considered, it was a pretty good night. 

[set-phasers-to-whump]

sticks and stones may break my bones but...

prompt: “who did this to you?”

whumpee: nick burkhardt

fandom: grimm

hi here is my second nick fic of the month, this one is hopefully better than the first lol. it’s set well before the show starts, when nick is still very new to being a detective and has fairly recently met hank. i hope you enjoy!

Nick is in the middle of digging through his freezer for something suitable to use as an icepack when there’s a knock at the door. He startles, bangs his head against the freezer door, slams it shut like it’s done him a personal wrong, and trudges to the door, silently cursing whoever is on the other side. 

He looks through the peephole, ready to call out that he’s not interested in whatever product or ideology is being peddled, but is cut short by the sight of a familiar face - Hank. 

He opens the door, tilting the left side of his face away so it won’t be directly in Hank’s line of sight. 

“Hey, what’s up?” he asks.

Hank shrugs. “You said you didn’t have anything to do tonight,” he explains. “I don’t either, and there’s a Timbers game at 7. Figured we could watch together. I brought food,” he offers, holding up a paper bag. 

That’s...actually really nice. If this were any other night, Nick would’ve accepted enthusiastically, but as it is, he just says, “sure,” and opens the door wider, gesturing for Hank to come in. 

They quickly settle onto the couch, Nick making sure to stay on Hank’s left side, carefully resting his chin on his hand to cover as much of the bruising and scrapes on his face as he possibly can. 

For the first half, everything is fine. Nick has a headache, but it’s not too bad as long as he doesn’t stare too intently at the TV. Hank’s snacks are good, the conversation is sparse and easy, and Portland is ahead with one goal. 

At half time, Hank asks where the bathroom is, and when he comes back Nick has leaned his head back against the top of the couch cushion, eyes closed, trying to ignore the way the left side of his face is aching. 

“Hey,” Hank says, and Nick startles for the second time that night. He quickly repositions his head, tilting his face down in the hopes of hiding his injuries, but Hank is too observant for that. 

“What happened to you?” he asks, and Nick brushes him off. 

“It’s nothing.”

Hank’s fingers touch the underside of Nick’s chin, lifting his face. Nick doesn’t bother to try and fight him off - he knows he’s not going to win. Hank looks concerned, which Nick supposes is fair. He knows how he looks. Black eye, scrapes, a bruise on his jaw. Nothing very pleasant to see. 

“This isn’t nothing,” Hank says, fingertips ghosting over the bruising on Nick’s skin. “Who did this to you?”

Nick shakes his head, forces himself to lean away from the touch. He’s not going to tell Hank what happened. He himself is not even completely sure what had happened, to be honest. 

Hank looks irritated, but doesn’t push. He just stands up, sticking out his hand in a silent invitation. Nick takes it, lets himself get pulled to his feet. 

“I assume you have some kind of first-aid kit?”

He nods. “Under the bathroom sink.”

Hank disappears, and a second later reappears with the first-aid kit in his hands. “You got somewhere with decent lighting?”

They end up in his kitchen, sitting at a small table pushed against the wall. Hank has dragged his chair around the table so the two of them are sitting less than a foot apart, which Nick thinks should probably feel more awkward than it does. 

Hank does what Nick would have been doing by himself tonight. He cleans out the shallow scrapes on Nick’s face with a stinging antibacterial spray, presses a bandage to the one that Nick knows is a bit deeper and wider than the others. He manages to locate a soft ice pack in the far recesses of Nick’s freezer, and Nick holds it against his face, propping his elbow on the table and leaning into the cold material. 

“What happened?” Hank asks, placing an ibuprofen into Nick’s unoccupied hand. Nick glares at it, then at Hank, who just stares back with a very unimpressed look on his face. 

“It’s nothing,” Nick repeats, swallowing the pill so he’ll have an excuse to not say anything else.

“It’s not nothing,” Hank counters, “and you need to tell me who did this to you and why so I can -”

“I don’t need you to do anything, okay?” Nick snaps, which is maybe a little harsh but also, he thinks, true. He drops the ice pack and stands up, although he doesn’t really know what he’s going to do - he can’t exactly walk out, this is his apartment.

“I know you don’t need me to do anything for you,” Hank says patiently, not getting up, “but we’re partners. We’re supposed to do things for each other. We’re supposed to trust each other. C’mon, man, at least tell me what happened.”

Nick relents, less because he actually wants to and more because standing up so suddenly has made his headache spike in intensity and he’d really like to sit back down. “I got punched.”

There’s a moment of silence. “And?” Hank prompts, when it becomes clear Nick isn’t going to say anything else.

“And nothing. It’s no big deal.”

“Anything that leaves you bruised and bloody automatically falls under the heading of ‘big deal.’”

Nick shakes his head, pressing the ice pack back against his face. “Hank, I swear, it’s -”

“If you say ‘fine’ one more time I’m going to take you to the precinct and lock you in a holding cell.”

Nick senses he’s not going to be able to get Hank to stop. “If I tell you what happened, you have to swear not to do anything about it,” he says. Making Hank promise him feels a bit childish, but he really doesn’t need anyone else knowing about this and he definitely doesn’t want the guy who punched him thinking that Nick can’t fend for himself. He’s new, he has a lot to prove, and, as he’s recently realized, a lot to learn about how this job actually works. 

“Yeah, sure,” Hank agrees.

“It was Robertson,” Nick mumbles, half hoping Hank won’t be able to understand him. 

Hank’s eyes widen. “Robertson. The guy from evidence lockup?”

Nick nods. “I...I honestly don’t know what I did. I had a question about the knife we found on Thursday, and I wanted to ask if I could see it, and then he started talking about protocol and I interrupted to ask him a question and he just sort of lost it. I hit him back and he stopped, really suddenly, and told me to get out of there.” He shrugs. “Maybe he was just having a bad day, I don’t know. He seems like a nice enough guy normally.”

Hank looks like he wants to punch something, so Nick quickly reminds him of his promise. 

“That was before I knew our coworker did this to you,” Hank protests, but Nick shakes his head forcefully, reaches out and grabs hold of Hank’s arm.

“It’s okay, Hank. I’ll talk to him myself on Monday, figure out what happened, work things out. It’ll be fine. I’m still new, you know? I’ve got a lot to learn about how things work around here.”

Hank still doesn’t look happy, but he nods, and Nick releases his arm. He glances out to the living room, where the score is still 1-0. “You up for finishing the game?”

Hank nods again, then stands up and offers Nick his hand, just as he’d done several minutes before. Nick again takes it, holding on for a little bit longer than is strictly necessary as he waits for the pounding in his head to die down to a reasonable level. They make their way back to the couch and sit down as Portland takes a corner kick. 

“Thank you,” Nick says, after a few minutes of easy silence.

“Of course,” Hank responds immediately. “This is what partners do.”

thanks for reading this! i hope you enjoyed :)

[germvity]

RISES THE MOON

leon s kennedy x reader // 2 // the home away from home

leon regenerated before you, and he started looking for you in the tree line. eventually catching sight of you, the two of you made eye contact, but you didn't come to the campsite. instead, you ran off in another direction, and leon had to follow you into the fog.

genre: angst, attempted fluff

tags: leon tries to help you, touch starved reader, cuddling, nightmares, jill may be ooc- idk how to write her in this situation tbh 😭

warnings: nightmares, ptsd themes, mentions of bullying, violence and death

---

leon peeked into the small shack you inhabited in the woods. you had decorated it how you like and was quite cozy. you seemed busy, digging through your belongings that you kept in a chest. gently, the blonde knocks on your doorframe and you jump with a gasp, spinning around to see your fellow survivor. "sorry, i didn't mean to scare you." leon smiles sheepishly. "did anyone see you?!" you ask desperately, worry filling your eyes. "no, they were busy at the campsite." the cop furrows his brows, shuffling from foot to foot. "can i come in?" leon asks, keeping his voice soft. "i guess.." you mumble, remembering how desperate he was to help you. "nice place." his comment makes you a little flustered, and you look away bashfully. "thanks." you reply, sitting back down and continuing to sort supplies into med-kits and toolboxes.

leon sits behind you and crosses his legs, watching you carefully, something that made you grow nervous. "you have so much stuff." the blonde chuckles, hoping to ease your anxiety. "yeah... i used to hoard stuff for the other survivors before everything went bad." you shrug, "i see. perhaps we could help each other then." leon smiles, grabbing one of your med-kits to help. you let out a soft oh, glancing at the blonde on your right to carefully watch him. "hm?" he looks back at you and you fluster more, looking away. leon laughs a little, continuing to organise the kit how you were doing it. "you don't have to be so shy. i don't understand what's going on here yet, but i can keep you safe." leon says softly, glancing over at you again as he zips up the med kit. your lack of response makes the man nervous, and he gently rests his hand on your arm, hating how you flinch.

"i'll keep you safe, no matter what happens here. i'll help you and anyone else if they need it." leon's smile stumps you and you feel like crying. "you shouldn't even be here... if they find us then god knows what they'll do.." you whisper, putting your supplies away. "if who finds you?" leon asks, rubbing your arm softly. "them! all of them... anyone out there." you shudder, pulling your arm away as you move away slightly. "hey.. no one will hurt you, okay? i'll keep you safe. it's my duty, you have my word." he smiles sadly, pulling you against his chest to hug you. your breath catches in your throat, and you tense up. "it's okay. i'm gonna keep you safe." leon assures you, coddling your much smaller, malnourished form against his chest. you whimper softly, tears welling up in your eyes as you try to wiggle away from his burning touch. "it's okay.." leon soothes you, his fingers wiping away any tears.

eventually, you relax, clinging to his police vest with a few soft sobs. "is it really this bad?" leon whispers, his heart hurting for you. "yes..!" you cry, letting him hold you tightly. "hey, i have an idea." leon admits, and you hum softly, wet face staring up at him. "i can be your bodyguard so to speak, and my friend jill can keep you safe if i'm ever away." he smiles, seemingly happy with his suggestion. "i don't want anyone else getting hurt though.." letting out a small breath, you let his calloused, warm hand rest on your cheek, wiping away any tears. "we'll keep you safe and we have professional training in self defence. you shouldn't worry your pretty head." leon smiles at you, and you can't help but circle your arms around his waist to hold him closer. "thank you..." you whisper over and over again, a mantra that makes leon feel saddened for you.

"get some rest, you look like you need it." leon hushes your grateful rambling, and you fall silent as you huddle impossibly closer yet your eyes glance up at him for confirmation. "go on, i'll be here when you wake up. i'll keep you safe." the blonde assures you, and moves with you so he could bundle you up in your actually comfy cot. when the cop goes to sit down somewhere else, you sit up suddenly and catch his wrist. "don't go..." you beg, trying to pull him back to you. "please... please don't go..!" leon acts quickly as your breathing picks up. "okay, okay. i'll sit with you instead of on the floor." the officer smiles, heading back towards your bed.

when leon sits down, you can't help but try to press yourself under his arm so he would cuddle you. laughing at your attempt to slip under his arm like a needy kitten, leon wraps his arm around you securely. "you don't need my permission for this, y'know?" leon smiles, finding cute how you warmed up to his affection, however he couldn't help but also worry at your naivety to any positive touches. the officer felt like he had to protect you from any harms way, that he should hide you from the horrors of this world. but alas, all of it was out of his control and that was infuriating. "get some sleep." you hear leon whisper as he pulls your half asleep form up onto his lap and cuddles you against his chest. only humming in response, you eventually drift off and leon lets out a small sigh. "i'll keep you safe. i have to... it's my job!" leon speaks, despite knowing you can't technically hear him. "i have to make sure nothing happens to you whether it kills me or not. you're too precious." the blonde continues to monologue, before his own tiredness from a days worth of trials starts to get to him and he drifts off as well.

leon's brows furrow at the small noises that wake him up. he raises his head, neck aching from slouching over in and resting his head on you subconsciously. "y/n..?" he mumbles, becoming more awake when he realises your discomfort. you shuffle in his lap, distressed noises still falling from your lips. "hey, hey hey! it's okay, it's alright." leon shakes your shoulder softly, trying to be gentle with you. "y/n!" he calls a bit louder, finally jerking you awake with a startled inhale. you yelp and fall away from him, scrambling back with a wild look in your upset eyes. "don't hurt me! please don't hurt me!" you beg, keeping your hazy, tear-filled, sleepy eyes locked onto the figure in front of you. "hey, it's just me! it's leon, remember?" leon responds with a soft voice, slowly approaching you as if you were a wild animal. "leon..?" you whimper, blinking a few times and realising that it was in fact the blonde who looked deathly worried.

the man stretches out his arms for you, and you quickly rush for his comfort. you almost knock the poor cop over as you wrap your arms around his torso tightly. "it's okay, i've got you." leon lets out a small breath, rubbing your back as you cry against his uniform. "make it go away..! just make it all stop!" you cry loudly, hands gripping the back of the bullet proof vest leon adorned. "you're safe with me, i promise." leon offers instead, and you continue to shake with each desperate sob. "you poor thing... i'm not going to let anything get you anymore." leon sounds more sure of himself as you slowly calm in his warm embrace.

"please don't leave me alone." you whimper, feeling tired from crying. "i'm not going anywhere, okay? i'll stay with you for as long as i can." the blonde smiled, his fingers coming up to gently brush over your damp cheek. "i'm making it my duty to protect you whilst we try to figure a way out, okay? i'll keep you safe." you let out a sigh at his words. "thank you..." you whisper and the blonde laughs. "you shouldn't be thanking me." leon smiles, raising your head by your chin with his forefinger and thumb so he could look at you properly. you can't help but glance at his lips as he smiles at you, the air becoming more thick woth tension.

"there you are! jesus what the hell's happening in here?" a new, female voice that you didn't recognise chimed in, and the two of you jumped away from each other. "jill! thank god, are you alright?" leon smiles at the woman, and you follow him when he gets up to greet her. "i'm fine. who's this?" jill smiles at you softly. the aura around her was strong yet oddly comforting to you. "this is y/n. i'm going to be protecting them." leon declares to his friend. jill rolls her eyes. "he has quite the hero complex, doesn't he?" she jokes, whispering loudly as if leon couldn't hear her. you don't really respond, shuffling behind your new friend. "jill..." leon sighs, "don't worry, she's also here to help." you look at leon with uncertainty, and he smiles at you.

"sorry, didn't mean to be overbearing. i don't really know what else to do right now as it seems you're quite stressed. i'm jill valentine." the pretty woman extends her hand for you to shake, but you fully hide behind leon at her gesture. "be careful, they show signs of ptsd." leon scolds, and you feel a sense of comfort wash over your heavy mind. "oh! sorry... i'm still yet to find out what's going on here." jill laughs sheepishly, retracting her hand. "y/n, it's okay. jill's trustworthy." leon soothes you by taking his hand in yours, slowly coaxing you out to greet the woman.

"hello." jill smiles, now keeping her actions and tone soft to ensure she won't scare you. "hi..." you mumble, grabbing leon's wrist with your other hand for any sense of security. leon smiles, and looks back at jill. "jeez, they've really warmed up to you, huh?" jill jokes, and you're quick to jump to leon's defence. "he helps me!" you snap, but shrink back once you realise your outburst. leon rubs the back of your hand with his thumb comfortingly, and you relax slightly, but not fully. "it's alright. i didn't mean anything by it." jill raises her hands in faux surrender. "sorry..." leon says for you, as you seemed to have regressed to silence. "it's completely fine. nothing i haven't seen or dealt with before. i've got thick skin." jill smiles at you, and you feel your lungs deflate with relief that she isn't mad at you.

"come sit down, jill. we'll explain." leon gestures to the cot as you rest your head on his bicep. "sure." jill shrugs, following the two of you in, and settling down on the other end of the makeshift bed. when leon sits with his back against the wall, you curl up into his side, still uncertain of jill's company as the blonde speaks to her about what he's gathered so far.

[lafourmii20]

My favorite pairing is probably DrPepperony if I had to choose one, and I'm a sucker for 30 (the protective one). While I tend to swerve to "people protecting Stephen", please write it however you'd like - if you're interested in this combination. :)

Thank you for the ask, @aelaer 💕

I love drpepperony and I was very happy to write this OT3 with this prompt. It's a bit longer than I thought, and maybe not exactly what you imagined. I hope you like it!

~~~

drpepperony, pre-relationship (could almost be read as gen), hurt stephen, with a bit of blood, protective pepper, protective tony, not clint friendly (sorry i had to find sort of a bad guy), post Endgame but Tony lives and Steve died

~~~

“If you’re so powerful, why couldn’t you save her?!”

Clint’s shout echoed on the lawn, all the way to the cabin. Tony instantly got to his feet.

“Stay with uncle Happy, Maguna.”

He left his drink on a table, and his daughter under Happy’s careful watch, and hurried outside. When he pushed the front door, he frowned, deeply unhappy with the scene.

“I’m sorry,” Stephen whispered in such a thin voice Tony wasn’t sure anyone heard him –not sure the guy even wanted to be heard.

“You’re sorry? Is that what you just mumbled?” Clint answered, his tone getting angrier and angrier with each word.

“I am truly deeply sorry,” Stephen articulated more clearly this time.

It did not seem to appease Clint. At all.

“Well, great! You’re sorry. But Nat is dead because of you. And your sorry ass apologies won’t do shit to bring her back!”

Clint was furious. He was grieving. But he was taking it out on the wrong guy.

“It’s all your fault!”

Stephen didn’t move, didn’t even blink when Clint lurched forward and punched him square in the face. He fell backwards and blood splattered on the ground.

“It’s all your fucking fault!” Clint bellowed as Sam and Bucky restrained him, tried to stop him from attacking again.

He almost tore free, and Tony took a step forward. He was all for letting his fellow Avengers sort things out between themselves the way they wanted to –and if they had to punch some sense into each other from time to time, well it was their business. But no one was getting beaten up, without even trying to resist, on his lawn.

But before Tony could say anything, Pepper stepped into the scene.

“What is going on here?” she asked in her no-nonsense voice. Se didn’t wait for someone to answer –as if there even was a correct way to answer when she used that voice. “No one is fighting in my home! Today, we celebrate those we brought back, and we grieve those we lost. This is not a time for fighting and I will not tolerate it. Is that clear?”

Clint might try to protest, there was no way he would sway Pepper. He was an Avenger. She was even more dangerous, Tony thought with pride. Looked like he could let his wife handle the dirty business.

He crossed the lawn, got to the poor wizard still slumped on the ground, haggard and defeated. His nose was bleeding profusely, and the corner of his eye was starting to turn purple. Tony grabbed him by the shoulder.

“Come on. Let me take care of you.”

Stephen looked up at him. There was a deep sadness, a resigned look in his eyes that broke Tony’s heart. Then Stephen got up and it was gone. They walked silently through the crowd, crossed the lawn and reached the house. Tony pushed him as carefully as he could in a bathroom.

“Here we go,” he said softly, helping Stephen sit on the edge of the tub. “Fri, where’s the first aid kit?”

“Under the sink, boss,” the AI answered immediately and Tony dived under the sink to retrieve the little box, opening it to get some cotton balls and antiseptic, though he wasn’t sure what to do with those. “May I suggest the ice pack, boss?”

“You’re the best, baby girl.”

“Of course,” she answered, and Tony chuckled.

He went back to Stephen with a slightly wet towel to wipe off the blood while he handed him the cold pack. Stephen’s fingers shook wildly when he took it and pressed it on the side of his head, with a painful wince.

“You don’t have to do all this,” the Wizard of Oz finally said. “I’m okay.”

“Yeah, look in the mirror, doc, and tell that to your face,” Tony scoffed.

He got a brief glimpse of a smile before he moved the towel over nose, lips, chin, and all the mess of blood that covered Stephen’s face.

“Why didn’t you send Clint to the Sinister Dimension or whatever the name of that hellish world is?” Tony asked, trying not to wince with Stephen every time the towel stroked over a sensitive area.

“Dark Dimension,” Stephen corrected.

“Sure.”

A moment of silence passed. Tony took the time to rinse the blood out of the towel before applying it again. It seemed like the bleeding had stopped. That only left the big ugly contusion at the corner of Stephen’s eye. Ouch, that looked painful.

“Fri, can you scan our good doctor? Make sure there are no deeper wounds?”

“I’m fine,” Stephen protested with another wince that said otherwise.

“Fri?”

“The good doctor is right, boss. No deeper injury.”

“Great.”

As Tony looked at the slumped and beaten up form in front of him, it seemed that nothing was great. If there were no physical wounds, it seemed that there was a more profound, more painful, psychological one. That man was wounded, burned out, and morally exhausted. And Tony was suddenly filled with the impulse to help him, to fix this, whatever this was.

He wanted to see the powerful and cocky sorcerer he clashed with, when they first met.

He wanted the weirdly flirty wink after great prowess of magic, and butting heads with someone that didn’t take his nonsense but actually listened to him, and compromised.

“So, why didn’t you stop him?” he asked again after a minute of almost comfortable silence.

He threw the bloody towel in the laundry basket and leaned against the sink, watching Stephen intently.

“Because he’s grieving. And he’s right,” Stephen answered in a too small voice.

Defeated.

Tony was not taking any of it. If Pepper had to protect Stephen from Clint, Tony would have to protect Stephen from himself, apparently. It was far from the weirdest thing he had ever done.

“Bullshit. It’s not your fault.”

Stephen arched an eyebrow behind the cold pack, before he winced and dropped it. Tony picked it up for him and, instead of giving it back to the wizard, he brought it up to Stephen’s face and gently hold it up against his temple. Stephen just sighed, closed his eyes for a second, letting Tony take care of him. The situation was slightly more intimate than Tony anticipated but it warmed his heart to see Stephen accept his help. And yeah, he could see himself get closer to the wizard in the near future.

“It’s not your fault,” he repeated.

“It kinda is. I chose this path, the one where Natasha and Steve had to die. Their deaths are on my hands.”

“That’s just pure bullshit! You didn’t push Nat on Vormir, she jumped. You didn’t put the gauntlet on Steve’s hand, he took it and snapped his own fingers knowing he would not survive it. You did not murder them. They chose to sacrifice themselves to save us all, and believe me, I would have done the same thing, without blaming you. You know what you did?”

“Wallow in self-pity, dishonoring their great sacrifice?” he whispered defeated and seemingly disgusted with himself.

“No.” Damn, that man really needed to be protected from himself. Tony knew a thing or two about blaming himself for everything, but Strange was on another level completely. “You put us on the right path, you risked your sanity to view all those possible futures and other timeline. You are a hero.”

That seemed to finally shut Stephen up. He blinked, looked up at Tony, but this time, there was something different in his eyes. A deep emotion Tony couldn’t really name. It made his heart race.

Stephen’s hand rose, lightly touched Tony’s at the side of his head. It was delicate and far more intimate than he expected. But before Tony could say anything else, the bathroom’s door opened, and Pepper stepped in.

Stephen quickly took his hand away, but Tony kept his position. There was nothing he wanted to hide from his wife. Besides, if something ever happened with the wizard, he was pretty sure Pepper would want to be included. Yep, that would be very nice actually, the three of them in the cabin. Tony could almost picture it.

Wait, he was thinking a bit ahead of himself, wasn’t he? Well, who could blame him, he was a futurist, after all.

“Are you okay, Dr. Strange?” Pepper asked.

“You can call me Stephen. And yes, I’m okay. Tony took care of me.”

Pepper looked at her husband. Tony winked, she smirked in return. His hand was still pressed against Stephen’s head –there was a cold pack between them, but did that really matter?

Pepper went to Stephen’s other side, carefully took his chin in her hand to examine him –and there was no cold pack or any medical supply to excuse the proximity. Stephen tensed for a second, then he relaxed in her grip.

“You did well,” Pepper finally concluded, with a small stroke on Stephen’s cheek. The wizard shuddered. Then she stepped back and the fluttering moment was over. “Tony, you stay with him, I’m gonna send everyone home,” she ordered more than asked.

“Yes, Ma’am,” Tony answered immediately.

“And Stephen?”

“Yes?”

“Stay for dinner with us tonight. Please?”

A moment of hesitation, blue-green eyes jumping from Tony to Pepper, a gulp and finally.

“I will.”

Well, well, well, Tony thought. That was a very interesting turn of events. He couldn’t wait to see where all of this would lead them.

~~~

Inspired by this intimacy prompt list

Prompts filled: 3. touching foreheads (ironstrangefrost) 23. wearing someone’s clothing (ironstrange) 29. kissing while mad (ironstrange) 59. height difference (ironstrange)

[suicidalslasher]

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 - 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅.

the one where Jason is a jealous  dumbass,  that’s it -  that’s the plot.

WARNINGS: This is a Jason Dean fanfiction, therefore, you all know what you’re signing up for. I don’t really got to tell you, twice. 

  Possessive!Jason. Jealous!Jason. Female reader, reader’s pronouns are she/her. 

Slight mention and scene of choking but it’s not graphic. A hint of NSFW but it isn’t shown. Also there’s a few mentions of blood but it’s not a lot, either. I wanted to tag that nonetheless, too. Also, Jason actually shows emotions in this which is out of character but in MY world, Jason Dean is a simp to his girlfriend and would rather die than to live a day without her. 

I may add the smut scene later on, who knows?�� Not me. This is my first imagine of Jason Dean so be nice to me or I’ll be like Ghostface and gut you like a fish (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*  

If you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to follow and or leave me a request, as they are open. If you also like my work and or have a dollar to  spare, as it will help me write and create more stories like this one, my ko-fi is here. 

Thank you and enjoy :)

White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Jason bit back his words, knowing they'd be harsh and full of  poison.  He's fully aware of how much damage he'd likely cause if he spit out the words that were on his mind.  He was going to break, and he knew it wasn't going to take too long until he did so.   Yet, as the female continued to talk beside him as an attempt to grab his attention, the feelings only grew larger and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood trickling on the tip of his tongue.   Jason swallowed that anger when it was nothing but a fire-seed and he had forgotten to drink something cold right after, in an effort to calm himself down;   therefore, it grew in his stomach until it came out hotter than any dragon breath.... all those negative emotions that swam in his veins  and crept in the pit of his stomach exploded and all the feelings he desperately was trying to hold back came burning on the one person he loved the most, his girlfriend, (Y/N). His face was red with suppressed rage and when (Y/N)  set her finger on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped, his nostrils flared  and his pupils were blown and dilated  as he snarled like an  out of control beast.  "I hate him more than I do the Heathers," spat Jason,  as he pushes his girlfriend up against the wall, the framed photograph that hung there now remained at the bottom of their feet, shattered into hundreds of pieces.   "I don't like you hanging out with him." Jason growled, his fingers curling around (Y/N)'s throat, feeling her pulse begin to quicken  as he presses his weight down onto the palm of his hand.  "Do you know how much it hurts to see you look at someone else? To see you smile at someone else? It makes me feel sick.”     "Jason... Let go of me. Let's talk. Please? You don't even know him... if you'll let me speak and tell you-"  "You love him, don't you?" Jason hisses, the sentence feeling like a slap to (Y/N)'s face as he throws out this statement.... it was a lie, that's what it was and (Y/N) desperately was trying to tell him how wrong he was but he just wouldn't listen, the arrogant  son of a bitch never listens!    "You love him more than you do me."  Before either teen realizes it, Jason is letting go of (Y/N)'s throat only for him to raise his hand up  into a fist and he's punching the only other framed photograph that was beside her, the glass shattering behind his knuckles. (Y/N) screams in horror and although she's pissed off, she - obviously - still cares about her boyfriend.  "Jason!" (Y/N) yelps, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to her boyfriend's side, examining his hand which was now dripping with crimson, a few drops of red landing on the now broken picture frame and the wooden floor beneath their feet. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here, somewhere-" "You love him." Jason repeats, ignoring the fact she was trying to help him.  He pulls his hand back, dropping his arm by his side, not  even caring about the way the blood was falling from his knuckles and staining both his pants and shirt. The anger and venom that once coated his words were now replaced with a hint of sadness and heartbreak.  She's never seen him this upset before.... regardless, if he'd just calm down, she could explain.  "Jason, baby-" His voice broke as he looked up at (Y/N), sad eyes meeting with her confused but angry gaze. On top of those, she was sad, too.   "Go then. Go to him, if you prefer to spend your day with him rather than your own boyfriend. You don't care about me, I'm not sure you ever did."  (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head as a few more tears spill past her cheeks. "Fine. If you won't let me talk and tell you my side of the story, I'm leaving. If that's what you think and if you truly think I don't give a fuck about you, I'm gone." (Y/N) mutters, letting go of his hand as she walks back over to the door, grabbing her keys and wallet before storming out the door, slamming the door shut as she leaves.

A week passes. 

Another week following behind that.  

(Y/N) didn't bother to call or show up.

He really fucked things up, didn't he? 

Jason wasn't huge on  showcasing his feelings and putting them out on display for people to see. The only emotion he was so used to showing was anger and madness. Nothing but chaos was built and stored away in Jason Dean's body, too.  All three traits made him who he was.  People may not like him because of his temper and all the flaws he had but it was him, and he didn't plan on changing for anybody.  Expect.... of course, (Y/N). As he sat alone in his bedroom, he felt depressed. He never cried, either.  Couldn't tell you the last time he ever did cry. Did he even cry as a baby? Jason wasn't sure, nor could he tell you.  

But.... Jason cried. For the first time in forever, he broke down and cried. Couldn't help himself.  By the end of the night, there were no tears left to cry. He had run dry. His body couldn't form any more tears.   Feeling both mentally and physically drained, Jason reached over and grabbed his phone off of the night stand, dialing the one number he actually had memorized.  All he got was her voicemail.   "This is (Y/N). I can't answer the phone at the moment but  I will get back to you as soon as I can! Bye!"  Jason groaned and he was half-tempted to throw the phone out of his window but he decided against it as he left a voicemail, regardless. He wanted (Y/N) to know he was sorry. 

He wanted (Y/N) to know that despite their arguments (which weren't constant but when they did fight, it was mainly due to Jason's behavior rather than her own) he loves her.  

 (Y/N) coming into his life was the only good thing the world had offered and gave him. He wasn't going to give her up. Not that easily, anyways.  "Hey." He had forgotten he was leaving a voicemail, having zoned out for a second, the beep brought him back out of his thoughts.  "It's me. Uh.... Jason.... your boyfriend? I hope so, anyway, still.... But, yeah, it's Jason.... Jason Dean.... ha, uh.... you knew that.

  Listen, I'm sorry for everything,  (Y/N).  I'm sorry for having that temper tantrum and taking out my frustration and jealousy on you. I'm not good at this type of stuff, not so great with showing my emotions in person either, so....

 I'll talk here,  hopefully the message goes all the way through. I don't want to say this in person, again, I'm not good at the whole unraveling my feelings, especially not face to face.

 But... (Y/N), baby, you're the best thing that's ever been mine. You're my darlin', my girl, and I got jealous because I was scared, okay? 

I was scared of losing you. And I'm telling you this because it's been awhile now and I haven't seen you around or heard from you in awhile. Therefore, I may have already lost you but.... I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm sorry, okay? 

Thought you'd never hear me say that, huh? Me, apologizing? That's like... once in a blue moon. Hah.....  

But, uh... well, it's true. I'm sorry and I, Jason Dean, love you, (Y/N) (L/N). And I hope that you still love me too."   With that, Jason ends the call, hanging the phone back up on the table as he falls back onto the bed. He didn't - doesn't - know what to do if he didn't have (Y/N) by his side.   Trying to ignore these thoughts and place his attention elsewhere, he decides he needs to focus on sleeping. His body was exhausted after all that crying, plus the punch to the picture frame was still making his hand ache and throb, despite it being a few weeks since he had done it. 

He had one hell of a nasty bruise, too. He was sure it wouldn't look so ugly and scarred if he  had listened to (Y/N) and taken her up on that offer when she suggested the first aid kit...  Before he knows it, he's drifting off into a deep slumber, naturally bringing a pillow into his chest, tucking it underneath his arm as he falls asleep.   

Faint whispers of (Y/N)'s name spills pass his lips as he sleeps. He'd rather be cuddling her than a pillow but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she'll accept his apology.  

(Y/N) gets home a little after midnight, sighing heavily and tiredly as she kicks off her shoes and strips out of her jacket, hanging the coat up first before setting her shoes under the rack. She had just finished unpacking and helping her cousin move things in his new apartment and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed. 

 In the corner of her eye, however, she notices her answering machine is flashing red, letting her know someone had left a voicemail.  She walks over and clicks on the button, expecting it to be for  her parents but instead she's met with a shocking fate - it was Jason.  

Hearing his voice, so weak and vulnerable, brought tears to her eyes and she bit back a sob. Especially when he apologized, that was new. 

They've said those three words to each other before, of course, but it was hearing how sad he sounded that let her know he truly did love her, despite everything they've been through and all the silly arguments they've shared over the past few months; they loved each other. 

 And nothing - nobody - could ever stand in the way of that.   Jason was still a huge dumbass, however. 

And as she grabs her jacket, sliding the thick layer of clothing around herself and dips her feet into her boots, she's quick to go and tell him that, too.  

She loves him, yes, but she needs to let him know he was a  huge fucking idiot. 

Jason, for the most post, was sleeping peacefully until he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, along with a string of curse words. 

  He was quick to get up, throwing the blanket and pillow aside as he opened his bedroom door and creeps down the hallway, wondering who the hell was in his living room.   

He was met with.... well, not a burglar  neither his father as he would have guessed the next outcome to be but rather his girlfriend.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to shake off the remaining sleep that had taken over him not even a few hours ago. 

"I came here to scare you, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she scrambles up and off of the floor, brushing her knees and arms from the fall she had taken.  "Your door was locked, couldn't find the extra key anywhere so I snuck in through the window and-"

"And... you're bleeding." Jason said, gesturing to the tiny gash on her arm.   "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here somewhere." He mocks, giving her a playful smile as he quoted the words she had said to him the day they got into that fight. 

 (Y/N) said nothing but she follows when Jason offers his hand out to her, anyway.   He was surprised when he did find the small box up in a cabinet.   

"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing  a bandage won't fix, right?" 

"(Y/N). Why are you here? You never did answer me." Jason said, getting out the tiny box of band-aids, ripping one open as he presses the item down onto her arm. She was right, it wasn't a big cut, a few drops of blood, sure, but it wasn't one that'd get infected.  

"I got your voice message." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I came to talk to you about it."

He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

 "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a dumbass." 

Oh. 

 It was bad. 

He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He really let his jealousy get the best of him and now he was going to lose the one good thing he had in his life. 

"I love you but you didn't let me speak," She continued.  "That guy you saw... first of all, you have no right to judge him or say you hate him when you have no idea who he is. That dude I was seen with was my cousin, who, may I add, is gay.” 

“I’ve been helping him move which is why you saw me in town with him. We were getting a few supplies and picking up his furniture.” She continues.

“You got jealous over a guy who is far from being attracted to  females. And you know... he's related to me as well, so, that also plays a huge part in it. And if you didn't notice either, the picture you broke was actually a portrait of my family and his together at a family reunion. Of course, you didn't see that, though or probably even noticed but.... yeah, you're a dumbass. I love you, J.D, but you're an idiot for thinking I'd ever love someone more than I love you." 

Jason says nothing, he feels embarrassed, ashamed, but overall; he feels happy, knowing she still loves him, even if he was a total moron.  "I'm sorry, baby, I got jealous and I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions  and-"

"And you need to make up for it." She said, pressing her chest up against his, resting her hand on the palm of his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out from his face as she gives him a seductive look. "And how.... exactly, are you going to make up for it, baby?" She purred. 

"I think I've an idea." He said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, can you choke me like you did, too?" 

"I'll do more than just choke you with my hand, darling." 

"To be suffocated and to choke on either your cock and hand would be a blessing, my dear." 

"Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"

(Y/N) smiled and took Jason's hand with her own, giggling as if she wasn't just talking about getting choked by her boyfriend, as if she was some saint rather than a sinner. Fuck... Jason loves how dirty she was. "We shall." He replies, nearly dragging her up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

"Going to show you how much I love you, going to treat you so good, so well, baby girl... missed you so much, love you so much..." 

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love and Medicine ~ 4

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 4,700ish

Summary: Your new roommates annoy you and Steve presses your buttons. 

(I do not own Marvel or Grey’s Anatomy.)

Val, Scott, and Clint had been living at your place for almost two days, when you woke up to Val standing at the foot of your bed. 

“Aaah!” You exclaimed, jumping slightly.

“Clint’s room is bigger than mine,” Val complained. You got out of bed, quickly tripping as Val continued, “I have more clothes, I should have the bigger room.”

You let out a groan as you picked yourself up off the floor and headed out of your room. Only to be met with Clint as well.

“I got here first,” Clint stated.

“It’s Y/N’s house, she should decide,” Val said. You continued down the hall, heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“My room is like, two inches bigger than yours!”

“You have a bigger closet!”

“So? Why is everything always a competition? I think that you can put your clothes somewhere else!”

“Everywhere else is filled with Y/N’s parent’s boxes.”

“Y/N? What are you going to do with all this stuff anyway?” You entered the kitchen to see that Scott had made breakfast. “Because maybe we can put some of the boxes in storage.”

“Or we could unpack a few things,” Scott suggested, handing you a plate of food and a cup of coffee. “Make this place a little more homey. Maybe some throw pillows and lamps, a few paintings.”

“Oh, paintings would be nice.”

“A quiet morning before work would be nice,” you muttered into your coffee, having sat down at the table.

“Yeah!” Val agreed with Clint and Scott. “You have all this amazing stuff just packed away. In the back hall, I found this box with like a hundred tapes of someone performing these amazing medical procedures.”

“Really?” Scott questioned. “We should watch them. Y/N, do you want to—“ You got up from the table, quickly leaving with your coffee in hand. “Wait, where are you going?” Your roomies followed you.

“Y/N,” Clint called. “We’re just trying to help. We could unpack for you.”

“Yeah,” Val added. “You wouldn’t have to do—“ You slammed your bedroom door in their faces.

“Y/N?” Clint whispered. “Do you want some privacy?”

You sighed as you slumped against the door. You were beginning to regret this whole roommate thing.

~~~

When you interns arrived at the hospital later that morning, you were immediately told to head to the pit (the ER). You were all helping each other suit up (gowns, gloves, etc.) while you talked.

“Fools on bikes killing themselves,” Gamora grumbled. “Natural selection is what it is.”

“So what’s up with Gamora?” Peter questioned quietly. “Is she off her meds?”

“You’ve never heard of the race?” Clint asked. Peter shook his head. “Every year this bar—“

“—The HYDRA Bar—“ you cut in.

“Yeah. Every year, they hold this underground bike race.”

“The race is completely illegal,” Scott added. “And—“

“Crazy,” you interrupted. “A bunch of bike messengers racing against traffic trying to beat each other for free shots of tequila.”

“All-out, no holds barred competition,” Peter said, “sounds like fun.”

“Yeah,” Val scoffed. “You would think that.”

“The race doesn’t even have any rules,” Clint added. “Except eye gouging—no eye gouging.”

“Oh great,” Natasha murmured. “We're going to be trapped in the Pit bandaging up idiots when we could be up in the OR?”

“What kind of people engage in a race that has, as its only rule, that you can't rip out the eyeballs of another human being?” Scott wondered.

“Men, Scottie,” Peter responded. “Men.”

“I need someone to get up to the OR floor,” Gamora stated loudly. “The Chief needs a right hand.” You all shot up your hands. “Clint.” 

“Yes!” Clint exclaimed, rushing away.

“Okay people, the rules of trauma. Don't mingle with the ER interns, they don't know their ass from their esophagus. Sew fast, discharge fast, take bodies up to the OR yesterday. Don't let me catch you fighting over patients. Got it? Come on, let's go.”

You interns rushed into the ER, seeing injured bikers everywhere.

“Oh, it’s like candy,” Natasha commented. “But with blood, which is so much better.”

Val and Natasha quickly started bickering about a biker that was just wheeled in. You looked around, trying to find an interesting case to jump on to.

“Ooh,” you said after seeing a guy with nails in his side. “I’ll take that guy.”

“No, you’ll have to beat me to him first,” Peter responded. You both ran to him, getting there at the same time. Peter pulled the curtain closed between them and the patient. “Heads he’s mine, tails he’s yours.” He fished out a coin from his pocket.

“Why do you get to be heads?”

“Because I have a head, and you are tail.”

“Excuse me! How do you make everything dirty?” Peter flipped it. “Ha. Tails. There are plenty of other cases.”

“So go get one. I was here first.”

“I am not backing down so I can do sutures all day while you're up in the OR. This is a surgical case, and you know it.”

“It's superficial. I mean, it's cool, but it's superficial.”

“How do you know those things didn't rupture his peritoneum?”

“Because he's sitting up, and he's sitting there talking to us!”

The patient pulled the curtain back. “Allo,” he said with an accent. “Excuse me, I was wondering if you could take these out, and sew me up, so I can go and win my race?”

“Well, we can’t just pull them out,” you told him. “I mean, we ought to—“ Peter quickly started ripping the nails out of the mans side. “—do some tests—“

“Oh, wicked.” The man smiled with a nod, grimacing a little with each pull.

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“it’s a superficial wound,” Peter said, handing the nails over to you. “Sew him up, and let him finish his race.” Peter walked away.

“You—you— ugh!”

“Good man,” the patient commented.

“Just, don’t move while I go get something to sew that up.”

“Of course, darlin’.”

You huffed in annoyance as you left to grab a suture kit. Coming back, you realized that the patient had been watching you the whole time, clearly checking you out. Which only made you more annoyed. Not that the guy wasn’t attractive, you just started the day feeling annoyed. You led him to a trauma room and cleaned the wound before beginning to sew it up.

“The name’s Hunter, by the way,” the patient stated.

“Hunter?” You repeated as you tried to concentrate on what you were doing. “Okay.”

“Hey! Don’t diss!”

“Not dissing, just concentrating.”

“Ah, you got a nice touch,” Hunter commented as you pulled another stitch. “And by the way, you are a rocking babe.”

“Seriously, do you actually think you have a shot here?”

“I like to think I've got a shot everywhere.”

“Look, you really have to let me take you for some tests, and a CT. You could have internal bleeding.”

“No thank you. I’ve got a race to get back to.”

You finished up the last stitch and stood up so that you could be face to face with him. “Why? You can't win now anyway.”

“Doesn't mean I can't cross that finish line. There's a party at the finish line. Do you want to meet me there?”

“One test. A CT. I'll have you out of here in an hour.”

“Can't do it, gotta go.”

“Okay, well, you realize that you're leaving against medical advice and I strongly urge you to stay.”

“The frat guy said I could go.”

“The frat guy is an ass. Okay, well, you have to sign an AMA form.” You reached behind you and grabbed a clipboard with the form.

“Darlin', I will do anything you want me to.”

“What is it with you guys and your need to dirty everything up?”

“I don't know. Maybe it's just testosterone, eh?”

“Maybe. You might want to see a doctor about that, too.”

“Come here.” He took the form, quickly signing it. “There.”

He handed the form back before getting up. Hunter took a few steps towards the door before spinning around. He grabbed you and kissed you.

“That was for good luck,” he whispered, walking away backwards. “Don’t worry, darlin’, you’ll see me again.” He left the room.

“For your sake, I hope not!” You called after him.

Shaking your head, you began to strip the bed. You couldn’t help the feeling though, that you were being watched. Looking up, you saw Steve standing outside the door. 

“What do you want?” You asked as Steve entered the room.

“You make out with patients now?”

You looked up at him with a small smirk. “What are you jealous?”

“I don’t get jealous.”

“We had sex, once.”

“And we kissed, in an elevator.”

“And we kissed in an elevator, once!”

“No, seriously, I mean come on, go out with me.”

“No.”

“You know, I almost died today.” You gave him a questioning look. “Yeah, I came like this close.” He gestured with his hands, a small gap between his finger and thumb. “How would you feel if I died? And you didn’t get a chance to go out with me?”

You rolled your eyes. “Get over yourself already.” You headed for the door.

“Come on.” Steve followed you.

You spun around. “It’s the chase, isn't it?”

“What?”

“The thrill of the chase. I've been wondering to myself, why are you so hell bent on getting me to go out with you? You know you're my boss, you know it's against the rules, you know I keep saying no. It's the chase.”

“Well, it’s fun. Isn’t it?”

“Yes see?” You waved a finger at him. “This is a game to you. But not to me. Because unlike you, I still have something to prove.”

You took your leave, hurrying to find another patient in need.

~~~

You were walking past a patient room when you heard Val call your name.

“Y/N!” You rushed in. “He’s crashing.”

“Well, what the hell are you doing?” You asked her. “Call code!”

“I can’t. I’m not supposed to, he’s brain dead.”

“Well Val, if he’s brain dead, you have to let him go.”

“No. It's only been five hours and thirty-three minutes, he's supposed to get six hours.”

“Well, we can't do anything to make him live, it's not our place to make that call.”

“He's a person, we're doctors, we should have every right to make that call. We can't just stand here and do nothing while he dies. He has a right to the next twenty-seven minutes.”

“Screw it. I’ll get the dopamine, you get the blood. We’ll transfuse him.”

You and Val worked together to save the guy, with Natasha coming in to help. After you got him stable, you and Val decided to take a walk.

“He’s stable,” you stated, walking up the stairs.

“For now,” Natasha said, coming down the stairs. “I had a radiologist look at his chest, apparently he has a traumatic aortic injury. He's going to rupture and bleed out.”

“So he needs surgery,” Val said.

“If he's going to remain a viable organ donor, yeah.”

“If he's going to live.”

“Val…”

“No! I’m not giving up on him. He has the surgery, he lives longer, that's the point. So I'm going to help find the family, you guys find a way to get him into surgery.” Val continued up the stairs.

“She’s vice-president of fantasyland.”

“So who do we go to?” You asked. “Gamora?”

“No, we need to go higher than Gamora.” Nat and you followed Val up the stairs.

You came to the conclusion that you needed to talk to Banner. You found him entering the men’s restroom.

“Let’s just wait until he’s done,” you suggested.

“No,” Natasha said. “Just open the door and talk to him.”

“Are you for real?” Natasha and Val pushed you into the door. “Dr. Banner?” You nervously called into the mens bathroom.

“Hello?!” Banner exclaimed.

“Okay…” you quickly closed the door. “Yeah… nope.”

Natasha pushed you aside and opened the door. “Dr. Banner, I know you’re busy, but our John Doe needs an aortic repair.”

“The guy from this morning?” Banner questioned, still doing his business. “Isn’t he legally dead?”

“Well, yeah, he's kinda still around? We gave him two units PRBCs and put him on pressers.”

“On whose orders?”

Natasha shut the door, giving you a look before forcing you to open it.

“Mine,” you squeaked.

“You gave a brain-dead John Doe a blood transfusion without consulting anyone. And now you want me to repair his heart.”

“Well, yes,” Natasha replied.

“You do enjoy crossing the line, don’t you?” Banner moved to wash his hands.

“He is an excellent candidate for organ donation,” you added.

“I am a surgeon. I save lives. This guy is already dead. Now, this is the men's room. Either whip one out or close the door.”

With a sigh, you closed the door and started walking away. As you did so, you got an idea.

“I think I’m going to regret this,” you mumbled. “I have an idea. Just… I’ll page you after I find an answer.”

You quickly left in search of Steve. You found him in a hallway and pulled him aside. You explained the situation, with him actively listening.

“You're asking my advice?” Steve questioned.

“Yes,” you responded with a nod.

“Now who’s chasing?” He teased.

“Not funny. This is important.”

“Okay. You want to get around Banner? You gotta find a way to get the Chief involved.”

“Okay—”

“And agree to go out with me?”

“Nope. Not happening.” You turned around.

“You’ll cave, eventually!” He called after you. “I’ll get her.”

~~~

At lunch, you, Val, and Natasha ran into Clint. He was in the middle of eating a sandwich when the three of you came up to him, standing in a line, staring.

“What’d I do?” He asked, food in his mouth.

“How close a match for the liver is your guy to our John Doe?” Val asked.

“Very.” Clint swallowed. “Same type, same size. UNOS couldn't find a better match, why?”

“And he's the Chief's VIP, right?” You asked.

“Right.”

“How much would you kill to be in on a transplant surgery?” Natasha asked.

“You underestimate me. I'm not a baby, I'm your colleague. You don't have to manipulate me, if you want something, all you have to do is ask.”

“We want you to go over Banner's head to the chief,” Val said.

“Ask me something easier.”

~~~

With a bit of persuasion, Clint finally caved in. Val, Natasha, and you watched from down the hallway Clint stop the Chief.

“Sir?” Clint called.

“Barton,” Fury turned around. “How’s Jackson?”

“Fine. Sir, actually, that's what I want to talk to you about. I-I kind of think that— we— uh, me, and the other interns, we think— we’re— we're not—“

“Barton, I’m not getting any younger.”

“We found Jackson a liver.”

“We are so going to hell,” you muttered. “Banner’s sending us straight to hell.”

“On an express train,” Val added.

“If it works,” Natasha said.

Peter came up to them. “What are you doing?” He asked.

“Nothing,” the three of you responded in unison. 

Peter noticed that you were watching Clint and Fury. So he began watching too. Banner walked past but Fury quickly stopped him, adding him to the conversation.

“Yes,” Val grinned.

Fury left soon after, leaving Banner to give Clint a questioning look. Clint immediately followed after Fury. Banner turned to look at the rest of you.

“Oh, crap,” Natasha muttered.

You three hurried away, leaving Peter. Peter quickly went after Banner.

“Dr. Banner! Dr. Banner!”

~~~

You found out through the OR board that Peter had been chosen to assist Dr. Banner in the surgery. You and Natasha were extremely irritated. You all sat up in the gallery, watching the surgery.

“I seriously hate that guy,” Natasha said.

“Peter is vermin,” you added in agreement. “That surgery is ours.”

“At least Banner is doing the surgery. I don't care about Peter,” Val said. “Clint? You did good.”

“I'm going to have to dodge Banner for the rest of my career,” Clint said, shaking his head. “He could kill me and make it look like an accident.”

“Now that would make an interesting Dateline,” Scott said.

“Really, Scott?” You questioned, trying to suppress a laugh. “That’s the first thing you go to?”

“Hey! You can’t deny that you wouldn’t watch it.”

~~~

After the surgery, it was time to go home. You had just changed out of your scrubs and were grabbing a few things from your locker when Peter waltzed in.

“Oh, I smell good,” he commented. “You know what it is?” He turned to you. “It’s the smell of open heart surgery.” He breathed in deeply. “It's awesome. It is awesome. You gotta smell me.” He came up behind you, leaning into you.

“I don’t want to smell you,” you retorted.

“Oh, yes you do.” He nuzzled into your hair.

You quickly spun around and grabbed him, pushing him against the lockers by his shirt. “You have got to be kidding me! Okay. I have more important things to deal with than you. I have roommates, and boy problems, and family problems.” Peter yawned, glancing around. “You want to act like a little frat boy bitch, that's fine. You want to take credit for your saves, and everybody else's? That's fine too. Just stay out of my face.” As Steve opened the door, you grabbed Peter by the chin, making him look at you. “And for the record, you smell like crap.”

You turn, finally seeing Steve. You go back to your locker. Steve motioned as if to say, what happened?”

“She attacked me,” Peter said, pointing at you.

You spun back around to really attack him.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N!” Steve rushed over, grabbing your arms and pushing you back. He turned to Peter. “You know, you might want to leave. Before I change my mind and let her beat you to a pulp with her tiny ineffectual fists.”

He let go of you to push Peter out the door. As Steve closed the door, Peter pulled a face at you, how mature. Steve sighed. You studied him, getting more stupid feelings for him by the second.

“What?” Steve wondered.

“Nothing,” you shook your head, turning to pull your jacket out of your locker. “It’s just…” You gave him another long look, him nodding encouragingly. “Nothing.”

You closed your locker and made your way to the door. Steve opened it for you. You looked at him again for a few seconds before striding away. He looked up at the ceiling with a sigh.

“I’m telling you, Rogers,” Stark commented as he leaned against the wall across from the door. “Not a good idea.”

“How the hell are you around every damn time?!” Steve exclaimed.

Tony laughed. “Honestly, I think I may have a gift for sensing everyone else’s stupid decisions but my own.”

“Well, can you stop sensing mine?!”

“Sorry, Steve. You’re the only one making stupid decisions currently."

~~~

All you wanted was your bed. And a quiet house. When you got home, Val, Clint, and Scott were already there. They were in the living room, sitting on the floor while going through a box of tapes.

“Ooh, this one is skin grafting!” Val said, pulling out a tape.

“Skin grafting? No way!” Scott responded, taking the tape from her. “I've never seen that done before.”

“Are those my parent’s surgical tapes?” You asked, bring there attention to you.

“We should watch the skin grafting one first,” Clint said.

You looked around the room. There were pieces of furniture and art that you had sworn were packed up this morning.

“Where did all this stuff come from?” You questioned.

“Oh, I unpacked some of the boxes,” Val replied. “I was upset, and when I'm upset I like to nest.”

“Same,” Clint and Scott added. You began taking down pictures.

“Oooh!” Val quickly grabbed another top. “Hemipelvectomy.”

“Let’s definitely watch that one first,” Scott said.

“No. No. We’re not watching my parent’s surgery tapes,” you quickly ripped the tapes from their hands, “we’re not unpacking boxes,” you motioned to the boxes around the room, “and we’re not having long conversations where we celebrate the moments of our lives!” You slammed the tapes on the coffee table. You grabbed the beer bottle that sat on the table and slammed it onto a coaster. “And use a damn coaster!” You turned to leave.

“I ordered Chinese food…”

You marched up the stairs. “I hate Chinese food!”

Here’s the thing… both of your parents were widely renowned surgeons. But they both died in a terrible accident almost a year ago. After that happened, you quickly changed your last name to one of your Grandmother’s maiden names. You didn’t want all the attention. You had already gotten so much through med school and have the accident, you didn’t want anymore.

~~~

You were grateful that your roommates didn’t bother you the rest of the night. And when it came time for work in the morning, you made sure to leave without them. You met up with Natasha in front of the hospital and walked in together.

“They're everywhere. All the time. Scott's all perky, and Clint does this thing where he's helpful and considerate, and Val just, I don’t know is Val!” You complained. “They share food and they say things and they move things, and they breathe.” You let out a little whimper. “They're like happy.”

“Kick them out,” Natasha responded.

“I can't kick them out. They just moved in. I asked them to move in.”

"So what, you're just going to repress everything into some deep dark twisted place until one day you snap and kill them?”

“Yep, basically.”

“This is why we are friends.”

Peter jogged up as they entered the hospital.

“Why is Gamora making us stay in the Pit two days in a row?” He asked.

“Leftovers,” you replied.

“Leftovers?”

“Gotta get the cyclists who were too drunk or too stupid or too scared to get themselves to a hospital yesterday.”

“While meanwhile, she gets to do a freakin' organ harvest.” He motioned to Natasha.

“Oh, that kills you, doesn’t it?” She smirked.

“What?”

“That two women got the harvest.” You three stopped in front of the elevator.

“No, it kills me that anyone got the harvest but me. Boobs do not factor into this equation. Unless you want to show me yours.”

You and Natasha exchanged looks. “I’m going to become a lesbian,” you stated.

“Me too,” Natasha responded.

~~~

You and Peter tried to civilly work near each other in the Pit. As you filed away some patient paperwork, you glanced over at the waiting room. You did a double take after seeing your patient from yesterday, Hunter, waiting.

“What’s Hunter doing here?” You asked.

Peter glanced up at the waiting room before going back to what he was working on. “Probably crashed his bike,” he answered. “Again.”

“How long has he been waiting?”

"Don't know, I'm busy on real cases. He's all yours.”

You walked over to him. “Hunter? Hunter?” You noticed that he was holding his side, the injured side, as you came closer. He didn’t look at you as he started to cough. “Are you okay?” He tried to get up and you ran the rest of the way to him. Hunter fell, unconscious as blood came from his mouth. “Hunter!”

You got down next to him, lifting up his shirt. The stitches you did yesterday were ripped open and the area around them had swelled up. You quickly called for help, other nurses and doctors quickly came with a gurney. They helped lift Hunter on with you jumping on to sit on top of him. You tried to hold his wound closed as you turned at talked to a nurse.

“Call up to the OR and tell them we’re coming,” you ordered. “And page Dr. Gamora.”

“Right away,” the nurse replied, rushing off.

You noticed Peter staring at Hunter, a bit stunned. “Peter! Push the dam gurney.”

Peter quickly rushed into action.

“Clear the way!” The nurse with the two of you called. “Coming through!”

“Somebody get the elevator!” Peter yelled.

“Hurry,” you said. “I don't know how long I can keep this wound closed.”

The gurney is pushed into the elevator. You watched as the doors seem to slowly close. You and Peter watch as the level numbers light up.

“Move faster, damn it,” you muttered.

Finally, the doors reopened and the gurney was quickly taken into the OR.

“Well, this is a new one,” Gamora commented, ready and waiting in the OR. “Somebody get her off my patient.” A nurse helped you climb down. “Y/N, go get cleaned up and scrub in, Peter, get back downstairs.”

“Yeah, but I helped,” Peter defended.

“Helped! They tell me down in the Pit that you only want to take the hot cases. In every pack of interns there's always one fool that's running around trying to show off, and Peter, this time that fool is you. Get out.” 

With an angry sigh, he left the OR. You quickly left after, going to clean up and scrub in.

~~~

After the surgery, you and Gamora were informed that Viper had friends waiting in the lobby for him. You two went out to talk to them.

“This lovely group's his friends. Uh, you all belong to—“ Gamora looked at you. “What’s his name?”

“Hunter” you answered.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah,” a man replied. “We were in the race.”

“How is he?” A woman stepped up. “Is he okay?”

“Is he okay?” Gamora repeated. “No. No, he is not okay, at all. He hurled his body down a concrete mountain at full speed for no good reason. Yeah, I know you all pierce yourselves and smoke up and generally treat your bodies like your grungy asses can't break down to A, you want to kill yourselves, flying down a concrete mountain, go to it, but there are other people walking, people driving, people trying live their lives on that concrete mountain, and one of them got his brains scrambled today because one of you little sniffling no-good snot-rag—“

“Doctor Gamora—“ you tried to stop her.

“Yeah, yeah so no, your friend Hunter, as far as I'm concerned, is not okay.” Gamora stalked off.

“She's, um, really tired, but, uh, Hunter's going to make it,” you said. “He’s gonna live.”

A chorus of “cools” and “thanks” were heard from he group. You stood there, awkwardly nodding for a few seconds too long before hurrying away.

~~~

At the end of the day, Steve found you in the locker room, alone. He came in, shutting the door behind him.

“It’s not the chase,” Steve stated, catching your attention.

“What?”

“You and me. It is not the thrill of the chase. It's not a game. It’s... it's your tiny ineffectual fists. And your hair.”

“My hair?”

“Smells good. And you're very, very bossy. Keeps me in line.”

“I’m still not going out with you.”

Steve smirked, opening the door back up. “You say that now.” 

He leaned over and kissed your cheek, then he left. That man was for sure going to be the death of you. You could feel it.

~~~

When you arrived home, Val, Scott, Natasha, and Clint were in the living room, eating pizza, drinking, and watching a surgical tape.

"Okay, this is the best part, watch, this is where they pulls a block of skin down over the face,” Val said. 

You cleared your throat. “Hi,” you said as they looked at you.

“We were— uh, we were just,” Scott stuttered.

“Natasha made us!” Clint quickly said.

“What are we watching?” You asked, coming into the room more. “Ooh.” You sat down and took some pizza. “This is the one where my mother—“

“Literally pulls this guy’s face off!” Val interrupted.

“Yeah.”

You nodded, looking around at your friends. There might be a small chance that you could get used to this.

next chapter >

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