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curiositydooropened · 3 months

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Ranged • 02: Home

Finally, a day off. You're prepping for your best friend's barbecue when your partner starts pounding on your front door with news that brings you unease.

Pairing: special agent!Steve Harrington x special agent!Reader

Wordcount: 5074

Warnings: very slowburn, this fic is episodic, coworkers to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, canon-typical gore, weapons, fighting, murder, viruses, decay, monsters *This chapter contains mentions of death, cremation, scars, autopsies, etc.

This blog is 18+ only. I do not give permission for any of my fics to be duplicated, reposted, or put into AI. Thank you!

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Moodboard • 01: Firetower • 03: Bayou [Coming soon]

The pounding at your door nearly startled the wrapped gift from your hand.

“Be right there!” You shouted and carefully tucked the card beneath crossed ribbon.

With a huff, you made your way to the door. It was a challenge nowadays, hobbling on one foot, bracing yourself on the back of your couch and the buffet near the front door. The staircase was by-far the worst of it, especially when you were still on crutches.

The pounding continued, a bit incessant and impatient, and you groaned. “Hold on! I’m in a boot!”

The little cover over your peephole swung beneath your fingertips, and you strained to see your partner. His broad shoulders took up most of the frame, and his hair wagged as he checked both sides of your hallway.

You unlocked the deadbolt and inched the door open. “Steve?”

“Les Joplin is dead.” Worry creased his brow.

You sighed and hobbled aside to let him in. Owens had called you with the bad news this morning. It was just a part of the gig. You can’t save everyone. You noticed Steve took these things harder than you’d been trained to.

Steve barreled past you, and until you saw the look of curiosity cross his features, you’d forgotten he’d never been to your apartment before. Suddenly, you felt self-conscious about the lace trimmed window treatments your mom had set up and the Pig-shaped cookie jar on the countertop. His fingertips grazed the couch upholstery and he took in your massive entertainment shelves before turning to size you up.

“I’m sorry, were you going somewhere?”

You tugged your cardigan a little closer, hem of your dress brushing your knee over your hideous boot. “It is our day off.”

He nodded, and you took a moment to survey his own outfit. An oversized sweater was emblazoned with red, white, and blue embroidery. Navy blue shorts barely covered the breadth of his hairy thighs. The way his hair stuck to his temples denoted he’d been out on a Sunday morning jog.

“How’d you find out about Les?” You asked, hobbling back to the kitchen to pour him a glass of water.

Steve met you there, tutting about your bum leg as he reached over your head for a glass from the cabinet to fill for himself. “Owens left me a voicemail.”

You watched the steady rise and fall of his Adam’s apple as he drank. A droplet fell from the corner of his lips and slid down the length of his jaw until he reached to wipe it up.

“Joplin makes six in six months.” He frowned, turning the faucet on to rinse.

You frowned, nodded. It was true, nearly all of the people you’d managed to life-flight out of Hell seemed to have died through some infection or surgical complications.

“Joplin had a broken leg.” Steve tapped at your boot with his toe. “You’re still alive.”

You rolled your eyes. “He’d also been exposed to the elements for two days before we reached him. Vines had wrapped themselves around him. He could have been infected with the Blight and we just didn’t know.”

“He was coherent!” Steve argued, running a hand through his hair. “You don’t find any of this fishy?”

The vulnerability in his gaze was rare, a softness that kicked something up within you, reminded you that this grumpy exterior cared and had compassion.

You chewed on your bottom lip and shrugged. “What do you want to do about it?”

His shoulders seem to relax a little, and he leaned against your counter, crossing his ankles over one another. “I have someone looking into the autopsy of the Garcia brothers.”

You swallowed, remembering the smiling faces of the two boys as they held each other’s hand in the back of the ambulance. They’d died hours after pick-up. You shook your head. “They were cremated, remember? We can’t exhume any bodies.”

Steve nodded. “I know. They’ve all been cremated. Les is being torched as we speak.”

“Steve,” you groaned at his crudity, imaging the frail man with kind eyes being locked in an incinerator.

“Like I said, someone’s looking into it. I’m meeting them tonight.”

You broached your next question with caution. “Have you… spoken to Owens about this?”

Steve watched you, like a caged animal deciding whether or not it could trust the hand that feeds it.

You understood the roots of his mistrust. You barely knew what he’d gone through, how complicated his tangles were with these government entities, but what little you did know seemed reason enough to question everything.

He cleared his throat, shook his head. “No, I want to have more solid evidence before I bring it to his attention.”

You nodded and opened your mouth to commend him when the antique cuckoo clock on your wall chimed 11. “Shit!”

Steve leapt back onto his feet, just as startled as you, and he side-stepped you as you grappled for the gift and wine bottle on the counter behind him.

“Steve, I’m so sorry, but I’m late.” You said as you hobbled to your denim jacket and purse hanging near the front door.

“You’re not driving, right?” He frowned.

You cursed again, reaching into your purse to procure your cell phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“A cab,” you argued, shoving him out your door with full hands. The phone rang, wedged between your cheek and shoulder, and you fumbled in your bag for some keys. “Hold these,” you dumped the gifts into his outstretched hands.

“Hang up. I’ll drive you.” He sighed.

“Capital Cab Company, how can we help you today?”

“What?” You struggled with the key in the lock, and gaped at your partner when he gently removed your phone from your ear and ended the call.

“Let me drive you.”

—

A jagged scar sliced through toned and tanned thigh meat, deep, purple, fresh enough to thrust you back into that cold cave. You taste his blood in the air, feel his pulse slow against your chest.

“So at what point were you going to tell me your partner was this scrumptious?” Your childhood best friend’s voice shook you back to reality.

Steve stood about a hundred feet away, thighs at eye-level and on-show in those tiny running shorts. His white tube socks were stained with flecks of mud and grass. He hugged one hand into his armpit, the other held a beer he’d barely drank since you all stepped into the backyard an hour earlier.

“Or was that confidential information?” Sadie snickered, poking at your side.

You shushed her with a waved hand, trying not to let her see the way you warmed at the idea. You leaned forward in your lawn chair for another handful of potato chips from the card table teetering in front of you. “He is not… scrumptious.”

Steve Harrington wasn’t a hunk. You’d seen him with toothpaste stuck to the corner of his mouth and dribbled down his sleep shirt. You watched him trip over his own shoelaces once.

Sure, he took great care of his body. It was kind of in the job description. Neither of you could climb mountains or fight monsters if you’d let yourself go. And yeah, he possessed handsome features. He had a nice hairline and thick, full hair, rare for a man his age. The handful of times you’d seen his stubble grow in hadn’t made him look haggard.

You could admit there was a kindness in his eyes too, saved for incredibly special occasions.

“I honestly don’t know how you get any work done,” Michelle agreed, pouring herself another glass from the wine bottle you’d brought.

“I’d be taking every opportunity to climb him like a tree.” Tammie played with the pendant on her necklace, perched on her chair like she was waiting for him to look her direction.

You coughed, salty chip wedged somewhere in your esophagus.

Sadie saw your struggle and laughed, slipping your wine glass into a salty hand for relief.

“So tell us,” Rhonda leaned in, covering her mouth with her hand, “have you two ever…?” She waggled her eyebrows.

You sputtered wine back into your glass, and Sadie threw her head back in delight.

You wiped the dribble from your chin and glared at your best friend. “Is this why you invited him in? So you and the girls could torment me?”

“Oh Pigeon, don’t be so dramatic,” Sadie pinched the flab under your arm and grinned. “I invited him in because I wanted to stare at those thighs. Think he’ll play volleyball if we put the net up?”

“Your husband is right there.” You gestured to poor, sweet Jeff, receding hairline and beer gut stretching his cotton polo. He drank his beer and flipped burgers and stared at Steve like he was just at smitten as his wife.

“He can join,” Sadie shrugged.

This sent the other women in a fit of giggles and hoots.

Steve met your gaze. Someone behind you must have waggled their fingers, because the corners of his lips quirked into a confused smile, and he extended a timid wave.

You chewed on your cheeks to avoid laughing with them.

“I know we’ve been talking about those legs, but have you seen the size of his hands?” Tammie whispered into her wine glass.

“Oh I know, I’d like him to - “

“Alright,” you hoisted yourself from your lawn chair and hobbled away from the cackling women. The grass wasn’t ideal for your wobbly boot, but anywhere was better than the warmth radiating from your collar and the call of your best friend for you to return.

Halfway across the yard, you stumbled on a rogue gopher hole, wine splashing from your glass and all over the front of the man who was conveniently there to catch you. Two large hands held you upright at your ribs.

“Why is it difficult for you to just sit and stay there?” Steve asked, chin and throat glistening with white wine. It soaked the top half of his sweatshirt.

Before you could apologize, the crew was on you, a flurry of mom’s pinching and doting, patting you both with paper towels.

Steve waved them off so he could limp you back to your seat, pointing a warning finger your direction. “Stay there.”

“Steve, honey, let me throw that in the wash for you. I’m sure Jeff has something you can borrow.” Sadie shot you a salacious look before beckoning your partner in through the sliding glass door at the back of her house.

“Think they need help?” Rhonda snorted, and the rest of them started to holler again.

—

A summer thunderstorm forced the party indoors. Husbands toted drunk wives out the front door. The kids were hauled into the basement with popsicles and VHS rentals. Only a handful of party-goers remained, indulging in quiet conversation around Sadie’s immaculately floral living room. Her favorite record spun in the corner.

“I’m worried about you, Pigeon,” she tapped at your knee above your boot and offered a glass of water.

You accepted it and shrugged. “Hazards of the job. I survived, didn’t I?” You kneed her back.

She glanced around the room before she lowered her voice. “When Steve changed earlier, I saw those… scars. What exactly are you two fighting out there?” Her eyes were wide, full of worry, of fear.

You felt it, too, sometimes. You thought about her a lot, about a life in a perfect suburban home with a picket fence. You wondered if you’d ever achieve that, too.

“Steve went through a lot before we recruited him.” It was the only explanation you could manage.

You glanced at your partner. He stood in the kitchen, arms crossed over a too-small polo of Jeff’s in a horrid khaki green that still, somehow suited him. You wondered if he’d ever wanted the American Dream. You could imagine him hunched beneath a kitchen sink or flipping burgers outside. You could imagine him coming home after a long day’s work, dumping his briefcase in the hall closet, smelling the air for a home-cooked dinner. You imagined kids and a dog running to greet him.

“I just need you to be careful,” Sadie warned.

You blinked back into focus, and turned to see the look in her eye had changed.

She nodded toward the kitchen, a knowing smirk playing at full lips.

“Sadie, thank you so much for inviting me. Are you sure it’s alright if Wyatt stays here tonight?” A voice from behind you pulled your best friend from her seat on the couch.

“Michelle, of course! Wyatt’s welcome anytime. Just call if you can’t pick him up tomorrow, I’ll have Jeff drive him home.” Sadie kissed her acquaintance on the cheek, bangles on her wrists jingling.

Michelle said your name, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder. “It was really good to see you again.”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “You, too.”

She turned from you both and took a few steps before pausing and turning back to face you. “Okay, I know this is going to sound a bit… I dunno.” She waved off her words, insecurity oozing from a typically-poised frame.

Michelle was such a sweet woman, confident, beautiful. She worked with Jeff in radio advertising. She was a single mom. You’d never seen a hair of hers out of place, nor a pearled button.

You glanced at Sadie, whose demeanor had gone rigid beside you.

“I just um… is there anything going on between you and Steve?”

You blinked back at her, your mouth going a little dry.

“I only ask because he and I had a really nice conversation earlier, and I wanted to give him my number, but I obviously would never step on your toes. I think the world of you. Also like, if it’d be weird at all, that’s totally understandable.” She was rambling now, her pale features tinged a bright red.

Sadie was holding her breath beside you.

You blinked a few more times, processing the word vomit, and eventually your head shook itself. “No. Nope, no, huh uh. No. Um… no.” For God sake, anything else, say anything else.

Sadie elbowed you.

You laughed. “Sorry, just um… Steve? Harrington?”

Michelle ducked her head and smiled, tucking a black curl behind her ear. “Yeah. Is that okay?”

“Chyeah, of course it is. That’s great, Michelle! That’s really great! I’ll put in a good word for you.” The words came out of you like they were flowing from someone else’s mouth. You felt paralyzed in your seat. Sadie’s claws were digging into the meat of your thigh.

“Oh really? Oh that’d be amazing. Thanks so much. Well, wish me luck, I guess, then…” She let out a little eep like a school girl and waggled her fingers your direction before she turned to make a b-line to the kitchen.

“You’ll put in a good word?”

“Shut up,” you hissed, smacking your friend’s hand away.

Steve stood up straight at Michelle’s approach, that stiff kindness meeting his eyes. He struck you a bit like Frankenstein’s monster, a man learning to be human again, movements stilted and face stuck in a scowl.

Michelle took something from her purse and placed it into his large hand, her own fingers lingering softly against his.

His throat turned a bit pink, and his ears, and it looked like he was fighting off a smile like it might hurt him. He nodded and said something back, and they ended their exchange with an awkward half-hug. Her curls caught on the bridge of his nose, his lashes. He met your gaze from across the room.

Then he jumped, apologized as the distinct bell of his cell phone chimed in his pocket.

Michelle left with one last excited wave to you girls, but you were already snapping your fingers for Sadie to grab you your purse from the coffee table.

You dug for your phone, but by the time you flipped it open and dialed into voicemail, Steve was walking your direction.

“Sadie, mind if I grab my sweatshirt?” He shot you a look and said, “We have to go.”

—

The rain thunked heavy on Steve’s windshield, wipers pulsing at a steady rhythm. The warmth of a far-off streetlamp cast reds and yellows across his silhouette and splashed across a bare kneecap.

You sat in a park parking lot. A swing set swayed in the wind a hundred or so yards to your left. A large hill jetted upwards at your center. Trees scattered the area.

Steve’s car idled. The heater puffed warmth that smelled of leather and him, and the faintest sweet of white wine that Sadie’s natural detergent hadn’t managed to squeeze out of his sweatshirt.

“Where are we?” You asked, glancing around the empty lot.

The sun had dipped west an hour ago, just as you reversed out of Sadie’s driveway beside Jeff’s station wagon.

“I don’t know,” Steve grumbled. His leg bounced, shaking the entire car with nervous energy.

You had half a mind to slow his movements, the heat and the sway churning your motion-sick stomach, but the idea of clamping down on his muscled and hairy thigh had you thinking of the girls at the barbecue. You imagined each of them in the backseat of his car, oohing and chanting for you to quit being a baby and just do it.

So you sucked your cheeks between your teeth and stared directly ahead at the beading water on the windshield.

“So…” You breathed. “What did you think of Michelle?”

“Who?” Steve stopped his quake.

You sighed and looked back at him. “Michelle, from the party? Black hair, freckles, drop-dead gorgeous. She gave you her number at the end of the night?”

“Oh right,” he said, like that was the only indication he’d met this woman.

You blinked back at him, waiting for more elaboration. You should have known better. With another deep breath, you pushed a little further. “She wanted me to put in a good word.”

“Okay,” and now he waited expectedly.

“What?” You frowned.

“Tell me something good about her.”

For the life of you, all you could muster was, “She’s a really good mom?”

Steve snorted, though his expression remained unamused. “Great, I’ll ask her to cut the crust off my sandwiches.”

“No, that’s not…” You huffed, adjusting your sweating back against the leather seat. You grumbled and flicked off the heat, suddenly feeling the space around you void of air.

You sat in silence for a moment, trying to organize your thoughts, frustrated that the only image coming to mind was Michelle’s perfectly manicured nails clinging to Jeff’s polo collar. Steve’s hands held her close, sliding down to the seat of her jeans.

Steve cleared his throat, and you blinked back to reality.

“I’m sure I can think of nicer things to say,” you managed to squeak out.

“I’m not going to date Michelle,” Steve spoke low and slow beside you, his voice warming you more than the heater had.

You glanced up at him, strong jaw and defined nose cut through warm lamplight. You pondered his tone, wondered how final it had felt, how far you could press. Maybe it’d be best to leave it there.

“This job doesn’t lend well to… a life.” His voice startled you again, information given before it was asked.

You didn’t dare respond, lips sealed, breath held.

He scratched at the stubble overgrown on his chin. “Doesn’t feel fair to get someone’s hopes up when I could be killed the next day.”

His name fell from your lips in a sigh, and he caught you gaze, lips quirked upward in a wry smile as he waved his words from the space between you.

“That’s just me though. I’m not like… putting that on you. Date a bunch of guys, if you want! Or one guy! Or one gal. I don’t care, I just um…” He coughed into his hand.

You snorted and glanced back out the windshield at the lamplight and the rain.

A shadow moved straight ahead, emerging from the hill top, bowed shoulders and a wide-brimmed hat.

“Steve,” you nodded, reaching your hand into your bag for your concealed weapon.

He adjusted himself upright, his own hand stopping your wrist.

“Is that your guy?” You asked, heart thundering a little louder in your ear.

“I hope so,” he answered, and you both just waited.

The figure seemed to sway down the hillside, walking at too slow a pace, darting through the tree line to be covered in shadow when he could. Finally, as he stepped into the warmth of lamplight and tilted his head to expose round cheeks, Steve released your wrist and dropped his shoulders in relief.

The door creaked and the pitter of rain against the asphalt deafened you for a moment as Steve stepped out to scold the contact. Both men spoke in hushed tones, gesturing wildly to you before admitting defeat and retreating to the safety of the car’s interior. The whole vehicle shook under their combined weight, and they brought with them the sweet smell of ozone.

You eyed Steve, tendrils of his hair dripping onto scruffy cheekbones.

He grimaced and pushed his hair from his eyes, gesturing from you to the man in the seat behind him. “This is Dustin Henderson, Henderson, this is my partner.” He introduced you.

“My real name, Steve? Really?” Dustin snapped, pulling the fedora from wild curls.

Steve shrugged. “She didn’t know it was your real name until you just confirmed it, dipshit.”

Dustin rolled his eyes.

You blinked back at a the two of them. There was no family resemblance, but they bickered like siblings, and you realized this was the largest glimpse you’d gained into Steve’s private life in the year you’d known him. You knew his parents’ names, that he grew up in Indiana. You knew he was captain of the swim team. You knew he enjoyed sports. You knew he knew far too much about the movie Labyrinth. You knew his go-to sit-in diner order (a cheeseburger with no onions and a strawberry shake). But somehow this connection, with this strange young man, was the greatest insight you had into who your partner really was.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you extended a hand.

Dustin Henderson smiled at that, a big, warm, round smile. His hand was cold and clammy from the rain, but the handshake was strong and firm. “Likewise,” he nodded. “Steve was right, you are a beautiful woman.”

“Hello? Can we talk about the autopsy reports?” Steve snapped his fingers to get you both back on track.

“Okay, Jesus Christ,” Dustin hissed like a scolded middle schooler. He reached into the inside pocket of his oversized trench coat and pulled out a few pieces of paper. He handed half the pile to Steve and half to you.

You squinted down at a handful of coroner’s reports, the names of the deceased all familiar to you. Les Joplin sat at the top of the pile. Cause of death: prolonged exposure. You swallowed and handed the paper over for Steve to read.

He shook his head. “So could you find anything?”

Dustin tapped his fingers on the bottom of the pages. “All of these autopsy’s were done by the same man. No matter what part of the country these people were in, they brought in the same guy. George Humbolt.”

You thumbed through the remaining papers to find the signature he’d indicated.

“George Humbolt no longer works for the United States government. He actually recently retired and bought a very large mansion in Key Largo. He was a very difficult man to track down, and when I called him earlier to ask him about the Garcia brothers, his phone line was disconnected.” Dustin explained through grit teeth.

You glanced up at the young man, peach fuzz barely cresting his upper lip. You wondered what got him into this life, if he’d been thrust into conspiracy theories chasing his older brother-figure. You wondered if he’d seen as many horrible things as Steve had, as you had. You hoped not. You hoped nothing would come of this snooping. You hoped he was being safe.

“Humbolt didn’t do Joplin’s,” Steve exchanged you papers again. In script, you could barely make out the name of a woman, Caroline Something. “Maybe we can track down the new person?”

“I did some digging into her too.” Dustin nodded. “Her supervisor is one Samuel Owens.”

You watched Steve’s expression shift, harden. You watched him watch you. You watched the trust fall from his eyes, wariness making his shoulders and jaw rigid.

He swallowed, nodded, folded the papers in his hands. “Well, Henderson, thanks for this, man. I think maybe it’d be wise to lay low for a little while.”

“Sure, man. You know I’m always careful though.” Dustin could sense the shift in his friend. His face seemed to screw up, too, in concern. He offered you a sad smile.

Steve nodded, solemn, and cranked the heat again. The noise from the fan cut through the tension. “Do you need a ride home? How the Hell did you get out here?”

“Walked.” Dustin sighed and folded himself back into his seat, reaching for the seat belt.

—

The rain calmed to a soft sprinkle that dotted your cheeks. Droplets caught on your eyelashes and cast stardust in your vision under streetlights and the entrance to your apartment building. You blinked them away, keys jingling at your side as you let yourself in.

Steve held the door to let you hobble past, and he followed you in quiet silence onto the elevator.

You pressed the button to your floor and relaxed into the handrail, taking some weight off your aching foot in its boot.

Dustin had made sweet small talk on his way home, asking about your life and your interests. You’d learned he was a computer programmer. He had a pet turtle, and Steve was his best friend.

When he exited the car, the two exchanged a cute handshake that Steve seemed nonplussed to reenact, despite both of them being silhouetted in the headlights.

Steve didn’t speak a word to you the rest of the way home.

“Thanks again for sticking with me at Sadie’s today. You really didn’t have to stay.” You said, voice hoarse, as you stepped off the elevator and onto your floor.

Your partner shrugged, rubbed at the back of his neck. “I had fun. Sorry about Henderson, by the way. He can be a bit…”

“Endearing? Wholesome? Adorable?” You smiled.

Steve snorted. “I was going to say obnoxious, but I’ll tell him you said that. He’ll probably buy you flowers.”

You hummed. “Flowers are nice, and so was he.”

You put your keys into your lock and twisted. Steve was warm behind you, a towering presence of protection and safety. You thought of Sadie’s warning. Be careful. Never had you doubted where you stood with Steve. Even though he’d been a stranger to you, you never felt threatened, never felt afraid.

You turned to look at him.

He swallowed, glanced down the hall. “Listen, I’m really sorry about today. Sometimes I can’t handle that I can’t save everyone, and I get a bit carried away.”

Your heart sunk, and you tilted your head to catch his gaze. His brown eyes were nervous. You shook your head. “No, you were right. Something weird is going on, and we’re going to figure it out. We can’t save everyone, but we can save someone.”

He took a few beats, searching for a falter in your certainty, searching for that trust in you, before he nodded.

A soft meow startled you apart, and your front door clicked open. Mrs. Song’s cat began rubbing his black and white butt against Steve’s ankle, purring loudly.

You both chuckled, clutching at startled chests before Steve leaned down to give the cat some much-needed pets.

Your heart pittered a little in your chest, and you found your face warming once again at the thought of Steve returning home after a long day’s work to greet his pets.

You cleared your throat and backed into your apartment, tossing your purse on the nearby hook and shrugging out of your jacket. “Well, goodnight. Thanks again for the ride.”

Steve stood up straight, all thick thighs and broad shoulders, cheeks pinched pink. He nodded. “Sure, no problem. Do you uh… do you need a ride to the office tomorrow?”

You tucked a hair behind your ear and shrugged. “Sure, um… sure, thanks.”

He nodded again. “Alright, pick you up at 7:45?”

You nodded. You felt paralyzed in this moment.

Steve stood in the precipice of your doorway, the green of your wallpaper bringing out the green in his eyes. You thought back to the teasing words of the women at the barbecue. If any of them had a man like this in their doorway, they’d invite him in, offer him a drink, do anything but stand and stare and wonder what could be, hearts racing.

He wrapped his knuckles against the doorframe and pushed off, a smile quirking at the corner of his lips. “Alright, then. Night.”

“Night.” You managed.

He stumbled a bit around the cat during his turnaround and bent to give her one last little pat.

“Steve!”

He stopped and stood back up to look at you over his shoulder.

“Don’t let the job discourage you,” you released a shaky exhale.

He frowned, confused.

“From having a life,” you explained.

Realization flooded his features, but the two of you remained rooted to the spot. You thought of Dustin and his turtle, and of Sadie and Jeff and their sweet little home. You thought of kids screaming on the trampoline. You thought of all of these things you never thought you’d have, unsure if you wanted them, unsure where Steve stood, if you’d be dragging him down, stealing his happiness by dying on the field. Maybe that’s what happened to Robin…

You cleared your throat, smiled, nodded. “You should really call Michelle. She’s a really sweet person. She’s funny. She’s very intelligent. She makes excellent brownies. Her son, Wyatt, is a really cool kid, too. I think he’s in karate.”

Steve nodded, taking another step backwards into the hallway, spell-broken. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good.” You smiled. “Night.”

“Night.”

The peephole carved a divot into your forehead once the door was closed.

---

Moodboard • 01: Firetower • 03: Bayou [Coming soon]

#stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington angst #steve harrington coworkers to lovers #steve harrington slowburn #steve harrington #dustin henderson #ranged fic #ranged wip #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you

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vechter · 4 months

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Top 5 Dick headcanons?

1. dick having long term impacts from blüdhaven being bombed (n52 i'm furiously pretending you don't exist)- i just don't think dick should ever be able to talk about the city he chose to protect that got nuked bc he got under a cringe old man's skin. even years later, he wakes up from nightmares about chemo being dropped. he can't talk about it. it's his biggest failure, his biggest what-if. he can't talk about it still. the guilt occasionally threatens to eat him alive. if he had never vowed to protect it, would it still be standing? also i know continuity about where exactly he was at the time is confusing- infinite crisis puts him in new york but his own solo has him in the thick of the action in blüd, which is my personal preference. i would also like to see long term impacts from the level of radiation he was exposed to. a few chemical burns, possibly sterility (an interesting thing to explore that his parents' legacy biologically dies with him- he is the last grayson. but persists in the way he has taught those around him to fly and catch.) plus i want bruce to feel insane about this because no one else will understand how dick feels about a city like bruce does. also, bruce regretting not having stepped in earlier when dick was in the mob or the circus was burning down. it's one of his biggest regrets, too.

2. dick moves back to new york after bruce comes back bc new york has always shepherded and saved him. he went there when he lost robin, when he lost blüdhaven. preferably, he moves in with donna or roy because the year he spent being batman changed something intrinsically in his code and he needs to be around people who love him for him. he doesn't know how much of it was an act, how much of it was the mission, how much of it was grief. he never wanted to be like bruce and yet. yet. also a big fan of dick convincing tim to move to san francisco with young justice after bruce comes back because he is seeing what gotham, what batman is doing to his brother. tim stays there for a year, attends college before upping and moving to new york, instead. far enough from gotham but still tethered to batman. it is a little brother's prerogative to copy everything your big brother does <3

3. he and cass have a complicated dynamic. they both see and understand bruce in a way no one else does. it can sometimes be a good thing because they feel seen. but it also leads to conflict and subsequent resentment and hurt. and they both feel guilty about it because they know the other person has nothing but good intentions and their heart in the right place. also, dick is an intensely private person so for cass to be able to clock his lies, his performative nature- it often feels like too much. people are always watching him but cass sees him. and i don't imagine dick being too pleased about that. meanwhile, cass, to whom bruce and babs are probably the most important people, also feels a degree of resentment that they both are so intensely abnormal about dick, even when dick lashes out/hurts them. i miss cass throwing dick out of windows, it was so fun. but also, their entire approach to vigilantism and the concept of perfection. there is so much untapped potential for them to have excellent conflicts and resolutions. also idk where i saw this but cass being unable to do a quadruple and dick privately gloating about that. hilarious <3

4. recurrent knee pain. listen, the boy is an acrobat and he tends to stick his landings on unforgiving terrain like concrete and roof-tops. plus, firefly shot him in his right leg and he spent a big chunk of canon on crutches and wearing a brace. sometimes, your body recovers from an injury but it is never the same again. a notable part of the pain is also psychosomatic. it reminds him of one of the worst times in his life- the circus burning, his apartment being blown up, blockbuster, tarantula, etc. and how much of a failure he thinks he was during that time. like i said, the guilt often threatens to eat him alive so ofc the long-term, intermittent pain of an injury like that is mixed with immense mental stress as well.

5. his most intense and most private thoughts about jason and tim. things he hates himself for thinking, things even truth serum or magic or whacky comic shenanigans wouldn't pull out of him. bruce took on jason as robin to get over the pain of losing dick and somewhere deep, deep inside, dick resents both of them for it. because jason died in his colours, under his name. and now they all live in a post-jason world, jason included. and maybe if bruce had never had jason, he wouldn't have ever lost him and bruce could still be the man/god that dick unquestionably put his faith in.

building up on this, their first real interaction after bruce punches dick for confronting him about jason's death is primarily because of tim. tim is the catalyst for the events in a lonely place of dying.

and while i don't subscribe to the bruce-is-abusive-camp, i think exploring scenarios where dick leaves bruce for good is so compelling. like i don't fuck with batman beyond and don't claim to be super knowledgeable about those runs, but what is enough for dick? what would make him abandon bruce? what would make him come back? it's so neat to explore. and i think in a world where dick decides bruce is unforgivable, he would come back for the kids. in fact, he does come back for terry and bruce is perhaps the most expressive we see in terms of his regrets about dick, about missing dick, about hurting him but dick doesn't really want to listen.

and i think, that interaction post jason's death altered their dynamic fundamentally. it makes dick go to therapy lol. and we never see on-screen resolution of that, just a continued glimpse into bruce's worsening spiral. so, i think, it's interesting to consider how dick would view tim's role in this. like yes, he loves and adores tim (a thousand ninjas wouldn't be enough, the closest thing i have to a little brother).

but does he privately wonder what would have happened if tim hadn't come in and dragged them both in a situation where they have no option but to co-exist semi-harmoniously? it took tim for them to talk again but is that really for the better? or for the worse? because dick's devotion to bruce is not only detrimental to his mental health, it is often straight-up dangerous for him. and while dick may be unable to recognize the mental strain it puts him under, he would probably have a sort of inkling of the physical harm. taking back blackgate all alone for bruce, the time bruce hits him when he thinks gordon is dead, the time he jumps in front of a blast aimed for bruce, the time bruce has superman's powers and beats dick down when dick calls him out.

6. a fun, small one. he had a threesome with kory and roy in the outsiders era exactly once. it made sense because he loves them and he knows they loved donna just as much as he did. it was soft and fun and a very transparent attempt to get dick to let down his walls. dick left when they were both asleep, cried when he went home and they never spoke of it again.

#thanks for the ask!#this became way too long and incoherent sorry i just have lots of thoughts on dick grayson #ur mental illness and devotion to a half decent man have bewitched me body n soul #asks

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knockoff-conlon · 1 month

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modern newsies hcs!!

- albert has pots and faints a LOT because he does nothing to manage it. has lots of bruises/cuts from this.

- davey wears a magen david around his neck. his mom gave it to him on his bar mitzvah day.

- race is a classically trained ballerina.

- kid blink is just constantly getting into fights at school (he wins)

- jack's mom died when he was a kid and after she died, his dad was abusive. jack was emancipated at 15.

- finch has autism. he's hyperfixated on birds and will randomly blurt fun facts.

- crutchie uses forearm crutches.

- spot has a bad knee injury from when he was a little kid and fell down the stairs. often wears a knee brace/knee tape. he doesn't explain it. theories are spread.

- splint is a bit of a ho (very affectionate) and the others don't understand how she gets so many men + women.

- katherine is on the girls' ice hockey team in high school. not only is she jacked but she is also violent when she's challenged.

- sarah is older than davey and jack by three years but only two years older than kath.

- race is abnormally strong, wins every arm wrestle ever. can pick spot up and toss him around like a pizza.

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lovinpelova · 9 months

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healing energy | j. fleming

summary; reader experiences a career-threatening injury at ucla, jessie helps her through it.

🎵 i know alone - haim

the most excruciating pain you'd ever felt shot directly through your shin and kneecap, falling to the ground immediately with a howl of discomfort as you held your leg whilst looking up at the sky, tears immediately forming in your eyes from the sudden agony you were experiencing. you heard a whistle blow and felt medics by your side within moments, your arm going across your eyes to cover them in fear of looking down, knowing it would make the situation worse if you saw the state of your leg.

"hey, hey look at me y/n. you're okay, it's just a little bit of pain it'll go away soon, yeah?"

your girlfriends voice boomed throughout your ears as you quickly moved your arm away, reaching for her hand and squeezing after she prompted you to so you could focus on something else and let the pain out. jessie stayed by your side as you looked into her eyes to distract yourself, dreading the moment she'd have to let go and continue playing like nothing happened as you got carried off, promising she'd see you as soon as possible when the game finished.

you were playing against usc in a qualifier for the annual ncaa championship, the biggest rivalry since duke and unc being one you were part of. that also meant your opponents would be playing dirty. you were marking a fellow midfielder all game, the girl doing her best to stamp on your toes and shove you from behind whilst in the air or moving into space, a nasty slide tackle from her resulting in your current situation: dislocated kneecap and broken shin. the girl was obviously rewarded a red card for her dirty efforts and usc were down to ten players, ucla feeling just the same as they watched you get taken off in a stretcher.

after a couple hours of readjusting your kneecap, fitting a splint, putting a cast on your leg, finding the right size moonboot, waiting for crutches, being assigned painkillers, given a lecture on what not to do and receiving a knee brace you were eventually discharged from the emergency physiotherapy room. you hobbled out on your crutches and saw a visibly anxious jessie waiting outside biting her nails, eyes lighting up at the sight of you before they flickered down to the state of your leg, looking back up to your face in time to catch your sad smile and one of your arms opening wide for a hug.

the canadian sighed in relief before moving in to hug you, kissing the side of your head as she pulled away and further examined your state. she pulled the moonboot and painkillers from under your arm without a word, guiding you out towards her car where she opened the door and pushed the passenger seat back as far as it could go. jessie helped you in carefully and even buckled you in, kissing your cheek as you smiled at her in a grateful manner before she moved to place your crutches in the back and got into the drivers seat.

"i take it you wanna go back to our dorm?"

"yeah, that would be nice thank you."

she helped you out of the car and towards your dorm once you'd arrived, a slightly awkward silence falling between you as she practically lifted you up onto your bed and moved away to place your crutches somewhere safe.

"cuddles please jessbaby."

you quietly demanded, the brunette laughing and lying down next to you as you moved to lie facing away from her so she could hold you from behind, your leg needing to be held straight preventing you from lying any other way than on your back or side.

"you feeling okay my love?"

jessie asked quietly, her arms wrapping around your waist tightly as you sunk into her embrace with your hands resting on hers, tears suddenly welling up in your eyes at the mention of emotions. it reminded you of how you felt when you were first told how long you'd been out for and how bad the damage was.

"i'm out for nine months at least. six months to heal, three months rehab."

you spoke tearfully, the canadian not even needing to see your face to know you were crying as she sat up lightly and kissed along your shoulder comfortingly. her thumb stroked your skin to calm you down as she saw your breathing grow slightly ragged from your tears.

"it's gonna be okay babygirl. just take it one day at a time, yeah? i'm gonna be here every second of the way."

she encouraged, brushing your hair out of your face as she pulled you closer in an attempt to comfort you. it was working.

"plus you've got more time to spend with me now."

you laughed lightly at her teasing tone, loving how she could always find a way to cheer you up. (she'd be a bad girlfriend of three years if she couldn't.)

"you and your ego, fleming."

"you love my ego, y/l/n."

--------

you lugged yourself along the sidewalk with jessie to your right, insisting you walked on the inside since you'd met but being more protective of you since your injury occurred. she walked slowly to match your pace so you didn't feel pressured to move faster than you already were, your girlfriend smiling at the way you'd adjusted to using crutches and being away from football without difficulty.

jessie had woken you up that morning with soft kisses scattered across your face, adoring the grin you wore as you rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and stretched, reaching out to pull her closer. she'd made you breakfast in the common room kitchen across from your dorm and carried it back for breakfast in bed, eventually persuading you to get dressed so you could go out for ice cream like you promised last night after she suggested it. all you'd been doing the past two weeks was staying in bed wrapped in a blanket of misery, jessie not being able to comfort you due to classes and training she couldn't miss.

the canadian felt bad for leaving you so lonely, saying you should do something on the weekend to spend time together and making up ideas as she scratched your back whilst watching a movie, yourself dozing into sleep and deciding getting ice cream was a good idea. you'd be able to sit down comfortably somewhere to rest your leg, spend time with your girlfriend and get ice cream out of it. it was an all-around win!

the canadian held the door open for you as you arrived at the ice cream shop, smiling as you thanked her and pulling out a chair for you once she'd spotted a table free. you noticed a couple people staring at your leg, obviously wondering what you'd done to wear such an extensive knee brace and pot but ignored them, once they saw the 'ucla' logo and team number on the front of your hoodie they'd figure out you're a student athlete and leave you alone.

"strawberry and vanilla in a sugar cone coming up my girl."

she spoke whilst kissing you on the top of your head and taking note of your smile, realising this was the happiest you'd been in the last two weeks. jessie came back in a minute with two cones, identical but one with strawberry on top and another with vanilla on top, yourself rolling your eyes at how she always decided to go for exactly the same as you when it came to food. you also figured she would have paid and wouldn't let you pay her back so you didn't even bother bringing up the pointless feud.

"thanks copycat."

you joked as she handed you the cone with vanilla on top, smiling at her sweetly as she blushed with a grin in response. you quickly took a picture of jessie sat in front of you before she could hide from the camera, laughing at her groan of annoyance before showing her how cute the photo was. both of you began eating your ice creams as your girlfriend filled you in on what had been happening at training since you'd gotten injured, telling you all the drama and funny moments you'd missed out on so far.

"i can't wait to get back on the pitch."

"easy there tiger, you've still got a long way to go."

jessie joked as you finished up your ice creams, apologising quickly when she realised how the reminder could have upset you.

"just live in the moment like we always do. otherwise you'll lose focus and it could push your recovery time back further."

"it'll be easy to do that when i've got you distracting me the next six months."

"nine months you mean? i'm not leaving your side when you get to rehab stage. i'll be your own personal cheerleader."

you laughed at her impression of chanting your name and shaking imaginary pom-poms in the air, placing your hand on the table for her to hold. the canadian immediately obliged to your request, lacing your fingers together and rubbing her thumb over your knuckles.

"even if it means you have to miss a game or training session?"

you asked incredulously, not believing she'd even think about missing a tournament or set of drills to watch you bend your knee and learn how to walk again.

"even if it means i have to miss a game or training session."

--------

"baby, c'mon we're gonna be late!"

"i'm coming just give me a sec!"

you yelled back whilst adjusting your moonboot and making sure the bandage around your knee would stay in place, quickly hobbling out the bathroom with a grin on your face once you remembered you were (kind of) starting to walk again. jessie looked up from her phone and smiled as wide as you were, walking over to kiss you passionately.

"my girl is starting to walk again."

she mumbled proudly, looking down at your leg with her arms around your waist as yours went around her neck. it had been three months since you'd gotten injured and although your shin was still slightly fractured your knee was practically back to a fully functional level, a couple more stages of rehab needed and checkups every week before you'd be cleared to your next stage: learning to walk, run and play football again with a broken shin.

the new stability in your knee meant you could now bend your leg - you didn't know how much you could miss such a simple thing but you did - your shin almost being there meant you could put a small amount of pressure on it now too. though to ensure you didn't put too much pressure on it you still had to wear your moonboot, just to give it an extra bit of support before you were allowed to take it off in a month.

"i thought we were gonna be late, baby?"

you teased as jessie leaned in to kiss you again, the canadian groaning in annoyance whilst you dragged her out your dorm and towards her car. your friend from ucla two years older had just moved into a new house with a couple of her fellow alumni, they'd decided to adopt a dog after realising they all wanted one and were actually allowed to since they owned the house. none of them were able to be home today though due to majority going professional and having away matches/training and the others having work, feeling there was no one better to dogsit than you and jessie since she'd had so many dogs before and there was no way you were going to refuse spending the day with a puppy.

his name was bruno and he was still only seven months old, classed as a puppy but lucky for you they'd already potty-trained him. they suggested you just take him for a walk or go to the beach to be occupied for three hours before some of the girls texted you saying they were home, yourself and jessie excited to finally meet the dog they were constantly talking about in the groupchat you'd made.

you arrived at your friends house and before she could even greet you, bruno ran out to sniff at your feet, jumping onto jessies thighs as the two of you cooed at how adorable he was. he turned to you and sniffed your moonboot, turning to your other leg that wasn't completely messed up before jumping on that one instead, nuzzling his head into your thigh as he licked your hand in appreciation of the ear scratches you'd given him.

"you guys are gonna be okay with him today, right? if not we can always find someone else or one of the girls can call in sick-"

"nonsense! we'll manage, jessies had plenty of dogs before and i love him already."

you cut your friend off before she could go off on a rant about how she wasn't using you or anything, knowing what she was like. she smiled in return as she started smalltalk with jessie whilst grabbing brunos leash and some binbags, handing them to your girlfriend.

"you're on clean-up duty, you can't make her pick it up if she can barely walk."

"i think she would've been too disgusted to have this job anyways."

jessie returned whilst clipping the leash to brunos collar, both of you saying goodbye to your friend with a hug before setting off towards the beach, deciding bruno would be way too excitable to sit in a car for longer than five minutes. after a gruelling fifteen minute walk for your leg and a testing one for jessie - trying to get a puppy to not tug or stop and sniff everything is very difficult - you'd arrived at the beach. jessie spotted a bench beside some steps and pointed them out, yourself practically speeding towards them for a break as she let bruno off his leash, watching him run at a safe distance away. the girls had trained him well so far so he knew not to stray too much.

you collapsed onto the bench and let out a sigh of relief, jessie laughing at your exhaustion as she sat next to you with her arm around your shoulders. the next couple hours were spent with you and jessie throwing pebbles for bruno to chase or calling him back over to sit with you, one of the girls eventually texting that she'd gotten home early as you took a detour on the way back to spend more time with bruno. you'd both fallen in love with the puppy, who could blame you for wanting to spend more time with him?

he eventually started trailing behind as you walked back to your friends house, jessie picking him up as he adjusted to be more comfy in her arms and so he could look ahead to see where she was walking. you decided it was far too cute to not take a picture, so you pulled your phone out and snapped one with jessie smiling awkwardly and blushing like usual, leaning forward to kiss her cheek as a thanks for letting you take a picture.

--------

jessie laced her fingers with yours as you took your iced coffee from her, thanking her with a quick peck on her lips after she pouted them in silent request for one. you continued walking - yes, walking - down the farmers market aisle and looking at all the stalls beside you, pointing out ones you'd feel the other would like to look at. the canadian turned to you when you suddenly called her name, sipping her iced coffee as you took a picture of her, an unimpressed expression taking over her face as you grinned in return.

"you're so cute baby."

you commented, lacing your fingers once more as you continued walking along the stalls, eventually landing on one with camera films once jessie had spotted it. you watched her adoringly as she gushed over all the different types of cameras and films, talking to the stall owner about it for nearly fifteen minutes before deciding against buying anything once she learned the price of it all, the stall owner understanding and waving her off when she apologised.

you'd eventually reached the end of the farmers market (somehow without buying anything) and started walking back to the beginning so you could get to your last rehab session in time. jessie watched you proudly as you walked alongside her without a limp or needing support for the first time in close to a year, a smile forming when you turned to her after feeling her eyes on you.

"what? is there something on my face?"

"no, baby. i'm just so proud of you. you've come so far."

you blushed in response to her sudden praise and shoved her shoulder with yours playfully, leaning your head in the crook of her neck as she smiled softly at the small display of affection, loving how you weren't afraid to dote on her in public.

"i wouldn't have been able to do it without my personal cheerleader by my side."

"i'll still be cheering you on next week when you're back in training. and for the rest of your life, no matter what. i love you."

you moved your head up and tugged her arm to stop her from walking, one hand caressing her cheek gently as you kissed her passionately, the brunette smiling into the kiss before you broke away.

"i love you so much. i don't know what i'd do without you."

jessie kissed the side of your head as she pulled you into a tight hug, grabbing your hand again a few moments later and continuing to guide you towards your shared university campus where you had one final session of rehab before you were cleared to start playing football again- and you can bet your entire team was waiting in the gym to watch and cheer you on.

at the beginning of your injury you were unbelievably miserable, starting to become a vegetable in your dorm and almost sobbing your eyes out once you felt the pain running through your leg after waking up every morning, remembering you had to wait close to a year before doing the one thing you loved; play football. your girlfriend saw you were struggling and immediately ran into action, distracting you in the best ways possible and not giving you a chance to think about your situation even when you were sat in silence together, always knowing how to cheer you up.

all you ever needed was a little positivity - some healing energy - and that's exactly what jessie gave you.

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bullet-proof-gay · 6 months

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I'd love more disability aides that look cool. Cane/crutch/chair customisation is awesome, and I'd love if there were also options for that too, and also like. Leather-looking knee and leg braces. Or spiked or metallic-looking elbow and wrist braces. Stickers and patches that go over joint supports. Those weird over-the-leg hinged splints from the 1700s, remade such that they work as modern splints/supports. Those curled metal finger splints but larger and for wrists and ankles. Y'know?

#idk I'm getting a new knee brace and they all look so boring #i want COOL LOOKING braces but right now even finding one in 'not black or dark blue' is a god damn FIGHT #disability #disabled #actually tourettic #actually disabled #disability aids #cane user #ehlers danlos syndrome #tourettes syndrome

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3v0ny · 5 months

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okay okay okay-

this is gonna be a pretty long post with how much I’m gonna ramble so prepare yourselves

hear me out-

…

you listening?

…

okay okay

ready?

…

…I made my own rise designs…-

(INDIVIDUAL DESIGNS + SRUFF BELOW CUT) Eeeeeee!! (YES, LEO IS TALLER- buuuut the order is oldest to youngest so, Donnie is the slightly older twin (Leo denies this))

For all of them I mostly took inspiration from both pre- and post-shredder designs from the show.

Individual ramblings now!!

Raph:

For the big guy, not a whole lot changed! There’s a lot of common design choices: big spiky tail, damage to one eye, etc.

I did however want to bring back the white bandages from pre-shredder, since he was the only brother to have them. I also thought he needed more red in his design, so I sprinkled a bit extra in there.

I moved the X bandage on his plastron down to his knee since the crack took up a decent amount of space.

The scar on his leg I imagine is from an incident from when they were still pretty young, like someone accidentally playing somewhere not safe, and something falls so he jumped in and got sliced. Raph will always protect his little brothers <3 Big body for a big heart.

Also instead of Leo becoming the full leader after Raph, I think they do best in a co-leadership (ofc with input from both Donnie and Mikey, they all listen to each other). Stepping in when the other needs it and both of them being able to be more silly at times.(they both deserve it)

Donnie:

He probably has the most changes/design features-

It might be a tad uncommon, but I made Donnie a lot bulkier than Leo. Personally, I think his battle shell would be REALLY HEAVY and since they’re bioengineered super-soldiers, he put on some muscle. It wouldn’t just be his battle shell either- this version is very into mechanical engineering and builds big stuff, lifting heavy metal all day. The mechanical engineering is also why his hands are ALWAYS DIRTY. he wouldn’t be bothered by it since he’s just used to it by now, but his hands are practically permanently stained with oil and grease. (He has a bad habit of wiping his face while working- which makes his mask always dirty too)

he got the scars on his forearms from a little lab accident when he was fairly young- there was a failure in some wiring and it caused some components of what he was working on to explode, so his hands + lower arms are lighter in color from the scarring.

now his markings were fun to come up with. OF COURSE the iconic chin stripe had to be there, but I ended up making all of his markings symmetrical, as well as more continuous lines. (The markings on the sides of his face continue until about his eyebrows and originate from the shoulders)

as a trade-off for making Don short and stockier, I made him the older twin :) He’s also more of a heavy hitter like Raph, with the ability to summon an entire artillery and all that.

Leo:

Leo is pretty lanky! I wanted him to be built more for speed and chaos (it’s what he’s best known for imo). Along with being the fastest, he’s also the family medic- as many others have done (wow so original)

one thing I don’t really see super often is him wearing a leg/knee brace, and I mean for pretty much forever. Along with the shell scuff wiping away the patterns on it, I think he’d need some kind of permanent ’crutch’ to be at 100% again. (Both injuries from Kraang) (if he’s having an off-day where his leg is flaring up, he just relies on his portals more)

even if he had his shell markings scraped off, he got some new stripes! (Again the iconic chin stripes) new ones have appeared and some of the older yellow ones now have a hint of red. (Now 3 per arm and 2 per leg)

Also traded his single cross-body strap for a full X, for dual wielding his katanas. (It’s just more secure- especially with how quickly he moves around and all of the flashy tricks along the way)

He most definitely runs it Donnie’s face that he’s taller (and Donnie always responds with how he’s stronger) (then Leo goes to speed- etc. etc.)

Mikey:

so, obviously, Mikey has scars from opening the portal to save Leo. (He and Donnie match <3) but now his plastron stickers ALSO mimic scars from his other brothers! Red crack for raph and blue stripes where the worst of Leo’s scuff is on his shell. Why? Because Mikey is the one that holds the family together, and it makes him feel further connected to his brothers.

speaking of connection- his ninpo is now so intense that his markings ignite in flames. Thus, his mask(s) are always charred. The eye-holes are larger (freckles are what ignite it) and the tails have sudden jagged cutoffs + holes.

for his gear, he wanted some nice leather instead of black or orange straps. (Donnie fire-proofed it, but when he asked if Mikey wanted to do the same for his masks he refused- he enjoys the new style) he now has a cross-body strap (like Leo used to) and leg straps for his nunchucks.

also like Leo, he’s more lanky for his gymnastics and wild fighting-style. They’ve both got the agile build, as Mikey is 2nd fastest. I also gave him a short and stubby tail- it’s too cute!

okay I’m finally done I think- thanks for letting me word vomit <3

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bad268 · 7 months

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Every Step of the Way (Pablo Gavi X Barca! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/FCB

Requested: Nope, I’m testing it out. I’ve been a Barca fan since 2018, but never actually did anything with it lol. Also, I’m aware he doesn’t speak English, but my Spanish is elementary level at best, so I’ll stick to English with Spanish nicknames.

Warnings: ACL recovery discussed A LOT (I used my sister’s experience with it so yeah)

POV: Third Person (She/her)

W.C. 2208

Summary: What's worse than one ACL injury? Two ACL Injuries!

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Pinterest)

Within 10 seconds, the lively stadium became silent. It was a freak accident, and it never should have happened. It was a normal game against Madrid, and she had already scored the point that took the Barcelona team ahead 2-1. Looking back, maybe it was ambitious to go for another goal so soon.

She remembered going for the kick but could not remember anything after that. Maybe she got hit by another player or maybe she twisted her leg wrong. All she knew was that it hurt like hell. It felt like her leg was on fire as she registered being carried off the field by the medical team.

In the locker room, she learned that she had torn her ACL. That was not something she needed to hear during the height of her career. Like her boyfriend, she was one of the youngest on the team and one of the most promising talents. And now, she had to come to terms with being benched for at least nine months.

The same week that she sustained the injury, she was already in surgery. It was a fast turnaround; she felt like she was getting whiplash. Everything during that week hand blurred together, and the next thing she knew, she was in their bed at her and Pablo’s apartment with a metal knee brace. That’s when it started to set in.

What if she could never get back to her normal? What if she could never play again? What if there are complications with her recovery? What if this…What if that…What if… What if…What if…

That’s what Pablo walked in on; his girlfriend of two years was on the verge of a panic attack as she frantically pulled at the metal brace. She was crying and screaming that she was fine. She was just dreaming. She was not actually injured because it was all in her head.

Pablo ran forward, pulling her hands away from her knee quickly before she could do real damage. He held her hands as he watched her thrash around before finally settling down when she met his eyes. Her eyes were watery as she met his, trying to regain her sanity, until she was able to understand what he was saying. “You’re okay. You’re going to be fine, mi vida (my life). I’m here to help you every step of the way. Wait, wrong choice of words.” He was rambling, something he only did when he was extremely nervous. The thought made her smile a little as she squeezed his hands to get his attention. “How are you feeling now, mi amor(my love)?”

“My leg is on fire,” She sighed, and Pablo had to hold back the smile since he knew the thrashing and pulling at the brace did not help her in any way. If anything, it made the pain more intense. Instead of voicing these thoughts, he just moved her to sit up on the bed. “Where are we going?”

“We are going to get you out of bed and get food. Then, I can give you more pain meds,” He replied quietly as he leaned down to press a small kiss to her forehead before kneeling to make sure none of the cogs on the brace came undone. That was the last thing they needed. “What are you feeling?”

“I don’t really care, whatever gets the pain to stop faster,” She complained as he pulled her up to stand on her one good leg. He pulled her crutches over as she playfully glared at him with no *real* heat behind them. “Do I have to use the crutches? They hurt my arms.”

“I could always carry you around,” Pablo offered with a smirk as he moved his arms to be under her arms and around her back as he picked her up straight. Clearly, this was not what she envisioned, causing her to laugh. Pablo chuckled with her as he was happy she was starting to get out of the deep rut she was in moments before. “Was this what you were thinking?”

“I imagined bridal style, but now looking back, this is probably the only plausible way you could carry me,” She admitted, and she was right. He could not really hold under her knees because of the stitches and the brace. It would have been more uncomfortable for her than using the crutches. “I feel like a ragdoll.”

“The cutest ragdoll I’ve ever seen,” He joked with her, causing her to roll her eyes as she slapped at his shoulder. “Hey! I wouldn’t hit the person who’s holding you up right now.”

“You wouldn’t drop me,” She gasped in mock offense. Pablo sent her a look that said ‘Challenge me,’ and she knew it was over. He loosened his hold on her as she slowly slid down his chest. She jokingly pleaded, “No, Pablo, please. Don’t let me go!”

“I’d never leave you,” He reassured as he pulled her back up and kissed her. “I’ll be by your side every day until you’re back on the field.”

“Then you’ll break up with me?” She teased.

“No,” he chuckled bashfully as he hid his face on her shoulder. “I’ll be on the sideline then.”

After a week of recovery and relaxation, she started rehab. The specialist started her out on small exercises like bending her knee and slowly putting more weight on it. It was a slow process, but she was getting to the point where she could walk unassisted. Sure, she still had to wear the metal brace and use at least one crutch, but it was so she did not strain it any more than she already had.

And who was by her side through every appointment? Pablo. Who was there every time she needed new medication? Pablo. Who was there to carry her every time she did not want to walk because he had no backbone when it came to her? Pablo. Boyfriend of the Year, honestly.

It finally got to the point where she could go to a game a month after her initial injury. Not to play in it, but she could sit in the stands and cheer on her favorite country. She was cleared just in time to attend the final game of Spain’s European Championship qualifying group against Georgia, and of course, her favorite midfielder was playing. She was not on the sideline per se, but she was in the stands in the first row from the pitch.

She was wearing one of Pablo’s kits (obviously) as she leaned her body weight against the barrier, cheering him on. It was still early in the game, and there were no points on the board. He was doing an amazing job given that he tweaked his leg a couple of days prior in the Barcelona game. He was running like he owned the field and making some good plays.

Within 10 seconds, the lively stadium became silent, and she felt her heart drop. All she did was blink, and suddenly, she knew something was wrong. The camera zoomed in on Pablo, who was lying flat on the ground, clutching his right knee. His face clearly showed his pain, and it hurt her to see him in pain. It took a few minutes, but he was walking back on the sideline, getting checked out.

He came back a little while later for another play. Before he even started running, she had that feeling in her gut again. It was not long after running back to the field that he was kneeling on the grass, clutching his leg as the yellow card was thrown.

It felt like forever for her. She wondered how long it felt for him. How bad did it hurt? How bad was the damage? Did he just dislocate his knee? Would he be back in later?

She did not get to delve too deep into the rabbit hole. He was walking, well limping, off the field again with some assistance, but at least he was walking. That had to have been a good sign, she thought. She turned to grab her crutch, so she could make her way up to the concourse. Maybe they would let her down into the locker room to see Pablo.

It was a little difficult given that the game resumed and people were back up and cheering, but she managed to get to the concourse without tripping or injuring herself more. She approached a couple of security guards that she knew personally.

“Do you know if I’m allowed to go down to the field or in the locker room?” She asked, hopeful, as they stepped away to radio down to the security by the locker room. It did not take them long to go back over to her and direct her to the elevator. Once again, it felt like forever, but she made it down to the base floor.

She hobbled her way over to the locker room where she immediately recognized one of the Barcelona physicians walking out. It was eerily quiet despite the game being in full swing just outside the hall. It filled her with nerves.

She needed to keep her composure because he needed her support more than ever. She took a minute for herself and took a few deep breaths before she pushed through the door. Despite expecting to see him injured, nothing could have really prepared her for seeing him flat on the table.

She limped over beside him where he had one arm over his eyes and the other fist clenching as physicians assessed his knee. She made sure to stay out of the way as she grabbed his fist, unwinding his fingers to grasp at her hand. She used her other hand to run through his hair as he kept his eyes screwed shut, leaning into her.

After a few moments, the physicians finished up. Instead of vocalizing what was wrong, they gestured to her leg before pointing at him. They stepped out of the room, and that’s when Pablo noticed they were not touching his leg anymore, causing him to lift his head and look around. She took her hand out of his hair as she sat on the table since her knee started bothering her, and when he laid his head back, it landed on her lap. She moved her hand right back to his hair as he stared up at her.

“Guess who gets to play nurse now?” She attempted to joke.

“If you’re insinuating that it’s you, we’re screwed because you’ve only been recovering for a month,” He sighed, “No offense.”

“Oh, none taken,” She replied sarcastically as she took her hand out of his hair and leaned back on it. Immediately, he started complaining as he used his hand that was not already holding hers to reach back to find the other. “No, that was mean. Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry, mi amor(my love),” He mumbled as he stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “Will you play with my hair again now? I’m in pain. Speaking of that, did they say what they think it is?”

She smiled down at him as she put her hand back into his hair and he reached his hand back to hold her wrist there. “I know you are, and I’m sorry. At least we get to go through the same recovery.”

“You’re lying,” He gasped, eyes widening as he sat up and looked back at her. “Do they think I tore my ACL? That would mean I’m out for the season! And the EuroCup!”

“Welcome to the club,” She tried to joke, but he was not laughing. She moved so that she was sitting right next to him as she wrapped one of her arms around his shoulders and still held his hand in hers. “Hey, don’t start just yet. They probably need to take you for some X-rays and do a couple more tests. Don’t get too far ahead of yourself. You could have just strained it.”

“How long would I be out if it’s a strain?” He asked quietly, leaning back into her embrace.

“Pretty sure it’s anywhere from three weeks to three months,” She said after she googled it. “Whatever happens, just know I’ll be with you every step of the way…wait. Not that. Wrong choice of words.”

That’s what broke him. He started laughing as he leaned onto her shoulder before whispering, “I get it.” Then, the physicians came back into the room with a gurney to take Pablo to the X-ray. He looked nervous and anxious again, but as soon as he looked over at her, he knew he would be fine. “Will you hold my hand, mi vida (my life)?”

“Of course, I will,” She answered endearingly as she stepped aside for the physicians to move him to the gurney. She grabbed her crutch and followed them toward the X-ray. He looked over at her, and at that moment, he knew that he could not live without her. They would be with each other through every step of the way, and when they were both healed, he knew just the way to thank her.

~~~

Part 2 ->

~~~~~

#pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi #gavi x reader #gavi #gavi imagine #fc barcelona #fc barça #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi x you #gavi x you #gavi x yn #fc barca #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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oceans-goddess · 9 months

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I don’t know if you would be open to this idea but a tmr newt imagine where the reader hurts her knee and now has a limp like newt and she is frustrated with it and it gets him to open up and it’s all fluffy??? I have just had knee surgery so I am being very self indulgent… again if you don’t want to no worries at all!!!

Author's note: Omg of course!!! Agh, I'm so excited, this is my first time responding to a request, so I hope you enjoy! Also, I wrote this really fckin fast, so I'm sorry if it's shit.

Guys, send in more requests! This was so fun to write!!!

Pairing: TMR Newt x reader

Warnings: mentions of suicide and death, leg injury

“This bloody knee!” you hissed, tossing your gardening tool to the side and pulling at your hair in frustration.

“Did you just say bloody? I must really be rubbing off on you” Newt said from above you. You gasped in surprise.

“Newt! What are you– aren’t you supposed to be talking with Alby right now?” You asked.

“Finished early. Not much to debrief today. Aren’t you supposed to be heading to lunch?”

Your boyfriend sat down beside you and picked up the tool you’d been using, toying with it as he waited for you to respond.

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it today. I’m running way, way behind. This piece of klunk knee brace won’t let me bend down to work, and Clint and Jeff refuse to let me take it off. I have to either stand straight or sit down, neither of which are fast enough to finish all this in time.”

You finished speaking with a huff, and Newt smiled beside you.

“Hey, that’s just what a brace is meant to do. You shouldn’t bend it until you’re all healed up. It’s only been a week, love.”

A week, you thought, recalling the accident that had occurred just a few days before:

“It should be all set. Just take it easy for a few weeks, y/n,” Jeff explained, helping you to stand and placing a rudimentary wooden crutch under one arm.

“And no more messing around climbing trees,” Clint warned, opening the door that led out of the med-jacks’ building where Newt waited. You nodded, but the comment stung your pride.

Earlier that morning, you had been sitting up in a tall oak tree in the deadheads. The location was morbid, you knew, but it was also quiet. A place to breathe. To think. If you sat up there long enough, it sometimes felt like the trees went on forever– like there were no walls, no maze, standing just yards away, separating you from the world beyond.

You’d been up there a while, and you knew your break would soon be over. The gardens needed tending, after all. That, and Newt would begin to worry and come looking. You knew he could handle himself, but the last thing you wanted was to see him struggle through the underbrush of the deadheads with his bad knee because of you.

You swung yourself off the branch you’d been sitting on and began making your way down the tree. As you placed your foot onto a small notch in the tree bark, the branch you held onto with your right hand snapped. You gasped, clawing at what was left of the branch, but your foot slipped, and suddenly you were falling to the side.

You let out a scream and braced yourself to hit the forest floor. Your right knee was the first part of your body to land, and it connected with a rock or a tree root– you weren’t sure. Your right shoulder slammed to the ground, though thankfully, it seemed that your knee had borne most of the brunt of the fall. Chest heaving, you slowly sat up and you tried lifting yourself off the ground. Pain surged through your leg, and a cry of agony escaped your lips. You sat back against the trunk of the tree for a moment, then tried to stand again. It was in vain– your leg couldn’t support you.

Just when you’d made your mind up to crawl back to the field where someone would see you and bring you to a med-jack, you heard a crunch of leaves nearby.

“Y/n?” Newt called frantically. When he saw you, the expression on his face made you want to disappear. His eyes were wide, and he cringed as he saw the way you held your leg. Others followed behind him. How he’d gotten here on his leg first, you didn’t know. Must’ve been the little piece of runner still left in him. He dropped down onto his knees beside you, calling out, “Bring the med-jacks, now!”

And then you wound up here, with a makeshift brace around your leg and a boyfriend that wouldn’t stop looking at you with that nauseatingly concerned expression on his face. It was all you could do not to scream in anger and humiliation.

You shook yourself out of the memory and turned away from Newt.

“I know the brace is helping. It’s just– it gets in the way. I’m so much slower than I was, so much less graceful, efficient, I feel… I feel like I just don’t operate like I used to. Like I’m supposed to. It’s so embarrassing. Like, everyone else is pulling their weight but me.”

It was quiet for a moment. Newt only watched as you clenched your fists together, but when he noticed that you were beginning to hold back tears, he reached over and rubbed your back.

“Hey, it’s alright. I understand. Sometimes I feel the same way about my own knee.”

At that, your stomach dropped, and you clapped a hand over your mouth. All the complaining you’d just done must’ve sounded so horrible– so inconsiderate– to him. You’d only been struggling for a week; his knee would trouble him for the rest of his life. And even then, he was trying to make you feel better, like always. That was what made you care so much about him. He always did what he could to make things easier for you, to comfort you, to make you happy.

“I’m so sorry,” you breathed.

“It’s okay, honestly. It’s alright.” Newt scooted closer to you and draped his arm over your shoulder. You leaned into him and took in his warmth, his earthy smell.

“Can I tell you something kind of sad?” he asked, his voice only a whisper. You didn’t know where this was going, but you nodded silently. Newt took a deep breath beside you.

“Aah, okay… you know I used to be a runner and everything, right? Before my knee?”

You nodded again, looking up at him. His brown eyes gazed down into yours with a mixture of affection and anxiety, but he continued on.

“Well, I don’t really ever talk about how I hurt my knee. It’s…” he swallowed. “it’s hard to talk about it now.” He shifted uncomfortably beside you, but you waited patiently.

“I… I really hated it here for a long time. It’s alright now, I’ve sort of made my peace with living here, in a way, but I just couldn’t take being trapped in this box. It drove me mad. One day, while I was on a run, I climbed up some of the vines and ended up on top of one of the maze walls.”

You could hear his heart beating faster now as you leaned against his chest. The next words out of his mouth were barely a whisper.

“I knew this wasn’t what I wanted. I couldn’t stand it. And I… I jumped.”

You gasped and sat up, looking into his face for more information. He only looked back at you with the most heartbreaking expression you’d ever seen on him.

“I wanted to be done. With it all. But, much to my resentment at the time, Alby found me. Dragged me back into the glade just before the doors closed. They fixed me up. I spent about a month under constant supervision from Clint and Jeff, and then I wasn’t allowed to be alone for another few weeks. Everyone thought I’d try again. I… I wanted to.

“It was even worse with my bum leg. Everything was harder, more irritating. I felt more useless every day.”

Hot tears rolled down your face. Newt brought up one hand and wiped them away with his thumb before kissing your forehead.

“I’m so sorry, Newt,” you whispered, and he pulled you in for a tight embrace.

“It’s alright, love,” he whispered back. “Things have gotten better since then. I found I was pretty good at gardening, and now, here I am. Made some new friends as well. And, of course, I met you.”

Newt pulled away and brought his hand back up to your face, resting his palm against your cheek.

“And I promise you I’m here to stay.”

You let out a quiet sob and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips met passionately, and you ran your fingers through his dirty blond hair. He was as gentle, as loving, as always. When you pulled away, he was smiling.

“Another thing that’s changed though,” he began, “is that I’m seriously afraid of heights now. That fear extends to you. So please, love, please, I’m begging you. No more climbing trees. I almost had a heart attack when I heard you scream”

You let out a surprised laugh before responding.

“Okay, honey. Don’t worry. No more climbing trees. I promise.”

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Now– let’s go get some lunch. We’ll worry about the garden later.”

#requests are open #newt #tmr newt #newt x reader #newt x y/n #newt x you #newt maze runner #tmr #the maze runner fic #the maze runner fluff #newt x reader fluff

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