#maybe eventually they stumble off into their room bc a migraine is coming on

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello, I adore your writing! I was wondering if you could do sick or injured TK but he’s hiding bc he just feels like he doesn’t deserve to take time off or look after himself and he maybe collapses and Judd is super big brotherly, protective, sweet and bandages him up or takes him home to look after him? If it doesn’t inspire you it’s absolutely no problem, keep up the amazing work you and writers like you are so appreciated more than you know!

if you're still here, anon, hi! and thank you so much for this prompt! i'm sorry it took me forever to get to :(

in the week running up to christmas, i am going to try to post a prompt fill every day, but i can't promise. maybe i'll only get this one out lmao. we shall see. either way, hope you enjoy!

ao3 | 1.2k

There’s some sort of irony, he thinks, that in the same year he almost freezes to death, he might actually die of heat. Summer in Texas is no joke, but there’s no way TK is going to admit to struggling to anyone, not when he knows all the jokes they’d undoubtedly make. Besides, he’s sick of being, well, sick, and he doesn’t want to see the inside of any kind of medical facility for the rest of the year unless it’s to do with his job. In which case he sees one nearly every day, but details.

And it’s just… After January, TK had to take months off while his body recovered from the accident, while he gained his strength back and learned to live with the side effects he seems to be stuck with now. One of those being migraines, which is why he doesn’t think much of it when his head starts pounding and he can’t really move his head without feeling an overwhelming dizziness and nausea. He’s been told countless times by Tommy to take time off if he needs it and TK knows that’s the sensible option, but he feels like he’s wasted half of this year at home and he hates these new limits that have been forced on him. If he is physically able to get through this, then he will.

Still, as the day goes on, he’s becoming less and less sure that he can. It’s like someone is running a drill right between his eyes without pause, but TK knows from experience that there’s no stopping a migraine once it’s begun. The best thing to do is ride it out, but today’s is worse than any he’s experienced before. The sun is unrelenting in its intensity and neither team has had much time for rest today, which means no time under any sort of shelter or even a minute to take a sip of water.

But he just pulled the rig back into the station, a blessed wave of cool air hitting them as they exit, and TK plans on making the most of the reprieve, however brief. He makes a beeline for the kitchen, grabbing a towel and running it under the faucet, then takes his water bottle from the fridge and heads up to the bunk room.

Once in bed, he pulls the sheets up so they cover his eyes and lies as still as possible, resolved not to move until another call comes in.

It works for about five minutes until TK is sweating through the covers and he throws them off, panting as a sudden breathlessness overtakes him. There’s a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach that he knows means nothing good, but he’s afraid to move – things will only go one way from here, but TK would really, really like to believe that for once it won’t.

But, of course, it does.

The churning in his stomach increases with his heart rate, and TK eventually has to throw himself out of bed and stumble to the bathroom, cursing his bed being furthest away from the hall. He barely makes it in time, the first heave taking over his body no sooner than he drops to his knees by the toilet.

And, because his body hates him, it fights against what it so clearly wants to do. Strings of bile dangle from his mouth as he heaves, his abdomen cramping painfully and his breath coming in short, sporadic gasps.

It takes a long time and several rounds of throwing up in the bowl for the nausea to subside, and with it, it takes all of his remaining energy. The smell coming from the toilet is awful and it threatens to turn his stomach again, but reaching up to flush is too much for him. TK sits in a heap on the bathroom floor, head slumped at an angle that’s sure to hurt if he stays here long enough, but he can’t care. He doesn’t have the energy; his limbs are all so heavy and his eyelids just want to droop closed, but he’s still on shift, he needs to be alert, he needs—

“Strand!”

TK’s head jerks up from where it’s dropped to his shoulder and the pain in his head strikes a new peak. He just wants to curl into a ball and die, but whoever called his attention won’t let him; he’s grabbed by the shoulders and shaken like a ragdoll, as much as he tries to get his body under some sort of control. 

Something is held to his lips and when the water hits his throat, he greedily gulps it down, only to immediately have to force himself above the toilet as it comes straight back up again. When he comes back to himself, he registers a touch on his back, and TK manages to moan and twist in their grip until their face swims into view.

“Judd?” he slurs.

“Yeah.” Judd squints at him, then sighs and shakes his head. “Tommy sent me to check on you before she left; EMS crew got sent on a call ten minutes ago.”

“What?” TK scrambles to push himself to his feet, but his limbs betray him and if not for Judd catching him, he would have collapsed back down.

“Man, you’re a stubborn bastard, Strand,” he huffs, not letting TK go so as to keep him in place. “And you’re a damn fool if you think she didn’t know something wasn’t up. She had her suspicions too, and I think we’ve just confirmed them.”

TK rolls his head in an approximation of a shake. “It’s just a migraine. Get them all the time now. Fucking ice.”

Judd snorts. “That’s one way of putting it. But this ain’t no migraine, it’s just a nasty bit of heat exhaustion. Though, you’re lucky we figured it out because if we’d waited for you to tell us you’d be heading straight to the hospital.”

The word hospital filters through the mush that’s become TK’s brain and his eyes widen, locking with Judd’s. “No,” he says. “No hospital. I don’t… I can’t.”

“Hey, relax.” Judd rubs his arm and then, making sure TK isn’t just going to crumple, lets go and eases himself down to sit next to him. “You’re not going to the hospital, but only if you’ll let Gracie take you back to our house while this thing runs its course.”

“Can’t…”

“Can. Grace is downstairs now and she’s told me that if I don’t bring you out, she’s going to come up herself and make sure she doesn’t leave without you.”

“I’ll throw up if I get into a car.”

Judd shrugs. “I mean, take a sick bag, please, but I got a baby daughter. That car’s seen worse.”

TK sighs and squints up at Judd. “You’re not letting this go, are you?” he asks, though, in truth, he doesn’t really want him to. He can admit it now; he feels like shit, and having someone take care of him is kind of exactly what he wants and needs right now.

“Nope.” Judd grins as he stands to help TK up. “This is how we do.”

TK wouldn’t change it for the world.

[lihikainanea]

can you please write smth where tiger's having a rough migraine but she wont tell bill bc she knew he'd drop work and would be at home in a snap of fingers if she told him smth, and then when he comes home he finds her in her room with all her blinds shut and doors closed to not let the light come through bc it makes her head ache more and its hurting so much already that she had thrown up a couple of times and he's worried and upset that she didnt call him but then takes care of her?

oh goddddd nani babes this is so sweet. As a fellow migraine sufferer, god I feel junk punched by this one.

I don’t know about any of you, sometimes I can feel a migraine come on from a day or two before--something will just feel off, I’ll get a nosebleed, or I have one of those “haha I’m so stressed god it’s a miracle I haven’t gotten a migraine yet” moments and then the next day--BAM. Flattened. Sometimes too, though, they just come out of nowhere. I’ll be fine, and then my vision will skew, my stomach will turn, and I know I have about a 5-10 minute window before I’m in some serious pain.

I get all the symptoms, too. Nausea. Extreme sensitivity to light. Blurred vision, or total blackout vision. Splitting pain. If I’m lucky, it only lasts a day. I’ve had some bad ones that last a long ass time and it’s awful.

So like, look--maybe tiger feels one coming on. Maybe Bill is on set--he’s in town, just on set for 16 hours every day--and tiger has been working like the boss bitch she is. But one morning at work--she feels it. That drilling sensation above her left eye--it’s a headache for now, but the minute the vision in her eye goes wonky she knows what she’s in store for. She quickly packs her shit, pops a few really strong Tylenol in an effort to fight it off (sometimes it works), and she heads home. She has a routine, one that works half the time--some strong Tylenol, a whole bottle of gatorade, and ten minutes later--two espressos. Hydration and caffeine can sometime nip it in the bud, if she’s lucky.

She’s not so lucky this time. She gets these, usually with the change of seasons or the barometric pressure being all off. She half contemplates calling Bill, but when she squints her eyes enough to see the time she realizes that he’s only been on set for two hours, and probably hasn’t even made it out of the make up chair yet. This shoot is a short one and every hour counts, and she can’t ruin his day.

Instead she stumbles to try and get her stuff ready for the long haul--cold compresses, warm compresses, her bottle of pain meds, some water. She barely makes it to bed.

And that’s exactly where she proceeds to stay for the next 14 hours.

The poor bean, it’s awful. The pain is so bad at one point that she dry heaves. And even if she wants to call Bill now, there’s no fucking way she can even function long enough to do that. She can barely speak. She’s just curled up in bed, in complete darkness, trying to relax and not tense up, whimpering in pain.

Bill wraps around midnight--he calls her, but it goes to voicemail. He thinks maybe she might be asleep, but something doesn’t sit right because she hasn’t texted him all day--and when she goes to bed, she always tells him goodnight. It’s a sweet sentiment, but also a warning that his lanky ass better not make too much noise when he comes home, lest he wake her up. He shakes off a feeling of malaise, and heads home.

But the hairs on his neck stand on end when he pulls up and every single one of the lights inside are off. He can’t explain it, but his Little Human alert is dinging furiously and he doesn’t know why. Taking the steps two and three at a time, he swings open the door and calls out to her.

But like, listen--the door whipping open and shutting harshly after, Bill’s loud voice calling for her? Fuck man, that’s torture when you have a migraine. And all he hears is her whimper, her choking sob, and he knows right away. And while he wants to be angry, his first instinct is just...concern. Care. He heads to the bedroom immediately, trying to walk as softly as he can.

“Oh kid,” he whispers lowly. He approaches slowly, crouching on her side of the bed and putting a soothing hand on her. She’s scrunched up so small, tensed in a tiny ball, in way too much pain.

“Billy,” she croaks out, and it’s half sob, half relief, half whimper of pain.

“It’s okay tiger, I’m here,” he whispers, “I got you.”

He’s trying not to talk too much because even a whisper is too loud, and tiger is just kind of full on crying now which is no doubt causing her even more pain.

“Hush,” he soothes, “I’ll be right back.”

There are a few things that help ease some of the pain, but more often than not, she just has to let it pass on its own. He gets some room temperature water and a straw, to help her swallow some more meds. He gets some new cold compresses, and heats up her warm ones. Granny made a ginger tea, a home remedy, that used to help with tiger’s symptoms--so he makes a mug of that.

He makes his way back to the room, puts the straw to her lips for a sip. When she’s done he just gently pushes two pain pills between her lips, giving her the straw back so she can swallow.

He doesn’t want to move her just yet--he will eventually, but he’ll let the pain meds kick in a tad first. Instead he just gently--oh, so gently--replaces the warm compress on her neck, places a new cool one on her forehead. She flinches at that one, and he apologizes softly.

She can’t sit up and sip the tea, and he purposely popped a few ice cubes in so it wouldn’t scald him. But then he just real gently dips two fingers in, and holds them to her mouth. She sucks the tea off of them that way--and he keeps doing it. Just getting a bit of liquid on his fingers and holding them to her mouth so she could wrap her lips around.

His other hand is on her somewhere--her thigh, her side. He wants to weave it through her hair but he can’t touch her head when she’s like this, even the softest head scritchies would still cause her too much pain. When she’s halfway done her tea, he starts on the second part of what usually helps her--just holding her tight, giving her something else to focus on, and pressing on a few pressure points that she taught him.

“I’m gonna move you kid,” he whispers. and she stirs a little. he climbs onto the bed as gently as he can, gathering her in his arms as he sits with his back to the headboard. She lets out an agonized whine.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he murmurs, “It’ll feel better in a second.”

He scoots her up onto him a bit more, cradles her head to his chest. He pats gently at her stomach with one hand, using his other one to pinch hard between her forefinger and her thumb. He alternates between pressing down hard on it, and rubbing slow circles.

It helps, but nothing but time will make it completely go away.

I’ll bet he falls asleep like that, doesn't he? Because pain is an exhausting thing, and after so many hours of it, tiger’s body just kind of shuts down and knocks itself out--and miraculously, she falls asleep. He hears her breaths evening out, feels some of the tension leaving her, and he too kind of sags in relief. He doesn’t dare move once she drifts off, not wanting to wake her. He knows how painful these are for her, and he’s going to have a long talk with her tomorrow about how she should have called him. How he doesn’t ever want her to be in pain like this, for that long, alone again. 

But for that night, he drifts off real soon after she does. Propped up against the headboard like that, her all curled up in his arms.

[awake-not-today]

hey! can I request a scenario where y/n and yoongi are having some tension in their relationship, probably due to not seeing each other bc of their schedules. they always get into quarrels. and the bts boys have had enough so they decided to lock the two of them into a room and they fuck it out. thanks!

Here you go!

OXYGEN

Yoongi x reader

smut, angst.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me?” Namjoon groaned as he approached the door to the dorms. He could hear you both yelling from outside, like he had started to do every day, and he was sick. Slamming open the door he startled you both, making you freeze in the middle of your argument.

“Can you two cut it out for one day?” He yelled, making Yoongi flinch. You looked down, embarrassed by the whole situation, mumbling an apology to the Namjoon. “Either break up or fix your shit. This isn’t healthy for any of us. You’re giving me a fucking migraine.”

“I’m just leaving.” You sighed, throwing a glance at Yoongi. He didn’t try to stop you, instead stalking to the kitchen. You raised your voice as you picked up your bag, moving to the door. “Call me when you decide to stop being an asshole.”

That night the guys gathered around the kitchen table, listening to Yoongi yelling down the phone in his room. Your relationship had been strained recently, what with you having a ton of extra hours at work and Yoongi having a conflicting schedule. Any time you did get together would end up in a fight.

Yoongi loved you, you knew that. It was just a rocky patch. You’d get over it eventually, but right now you couldn’t stand the sight of each other. It had started when Yoongi made a passing comment about a co-worker of yours, insinuating that he saw you more than Yoongi did. He didn’t mean it to come out accusingly, but that’s the way you’d taken it. You’d been at each others throats ever since.

“We have to do something.” Jin groaned as he heard the crash of whatever Yoongi had thrown in his rage. Everyone nodded, Jungkook burying his face in his arms. “This is getting out of hand.”

“Well it’s not like they’re going to be breaking up anytime soon.” Namjoon mumbled, tapping his fingers on the table top. “They’re like oxygen for each other. That’s the problem.”

“I don’t get it.” Jimin muttered, looking at Tae who shrugged. Namjoon sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“See right now there’s a fire between them, the constant fighting.” Jimin nodded, motioning for Namjoon to go on. “And what makes fires thrive? Oxygen.”

“Ah.” Jimin nodded again, not entirely understanding but not questioning it. “So what do we do?”

“I have a plan. It can go two ways. The fire will burn out, or they will.”

“Joon?” You called out as you entered the dorms, throwing your bag on the sofa. Namjoon had asked you to come over, wanting to try to help the situation between you and Yoongi. You wandered along the hall to find him sat in Yoongi’s room. “Hey. Why in here?”

“This is the only empty room in the dorms right now.” Namjoon shrugged, patting the bed for you to sit down. You did, smiling over at Joon and how helpful he was trying to be. “You want a drink?”

“Sure.” You smiled, watching as Namjoon left the room. It took him a while, leaving you alone on Yoongi’s bed. Except when the door opened, it wasn’t Namjoon appearing in the doorway, it was Yoongi.

“What are you doing here?” He glared at you from the doorway, moving to turn around when suddenly he was shoved inside the room and the door slammed behind him. “What the fuck?”

“You aren’t coming out until you fix this.” Jungkook called, earning a few shouts of agreement. Yoongi jumped up and grabbed at the door handle, finding it locked. “Nice try. Now talk it out!”

Yoongi huffed and shuffled to sit beside you, looking up to find you ignoring him. He huffed again, flopping back on the bed, and sighed. “They can’t keep you here if you don’t want to be here. Neither can I.”

Your head snapped around so fast you could have sworn you got whiplash, throwing your boyfriend the dirtiest of looks. “Is that a fucking joke? Are you asking me to break up with you?”

“That depends.” Yoongi groaned, rubbing his eyes. “How badly do you want to fuck the new guy at your job?”

The anger surging through you had you shaking as you stood from the bed, moving to the door to pound your fists on it. Yoongi stood, coming behind you and taking you by the wrist, making you flinch away angrily. “Don’t you dare fucking touch me.”

“Ah, so it’s true then.” Yoongi spat bitterly, a dark laugh to his tone. “You do want to fuck him.”

You slapped him. You didn’t mean to but you were so angry you couldn’t stop yourself. Yoongi didn’t say anything, just stared at you as you breathed harshly. He moved suddenly, grabbing your wrists and pinning them above your head against the door. You squirmed, trying to free yourself of his grip. “Let go of me.”

“Do you want to fuck him?” Yoongi’s voice was low, dark, sending a shiver down your spine. You swallowed roughly, staring into his eyes. “Answer me.”

“No.” You breathed, turned on more than you’d like to admit. You squeezed your thighs together, Yoongi seeing you and laughing.

“Maybe I should remind you of what you’d be missing out on, huh?” You nodded, arching against him, begging him to touch you without words. He brought one hand down trailing fingers over your body until he was pressing fingers against your heat over your jeans. “You want that?”

“Fuck me, Yoongi.” You didn’t have to ask twice, Yoongi immediately pressing his lips to yours as he let go of your wrists, fumbling with the button of your jeans. His hands pushed at your pants and underwear as you pressed your body against his, begging for some kind of friction.

Using his feet he helped you to kick them off, his tongue brushing against yours while his fingers slipped between your thighs. He pulled back, chuckling a little as his fingers circled your clit in quick motions. “You’re already dripping for me, babe. Nobody gets you hot like I do.”

You couldn’t even answer, fingers digging into your boyfriend’s shoulders as he worked you over. He just watched, loving the way your head fell back against his door, mouth slack as you moaned obscenely. He hoped the guys were listening, he really wanted them to hear you.

Suddenly he was spinning you around, pressing on your back as he shoved his sweats down, pumping his cock a few times. A hand gripped the top of your thigh, pulling it up to hook over the crook of his arm. You didn’t even get a moment to catch your balance as he was pushing into you in one long hard thrust. “Fuck.”

“This pussy is mine, babe.” Yoongi practically growled in your ear, his other hand coming up to grip your hair and tilt your head back. “He doesn’t get to touch you, got it?”

“Yours!” You didn’t mean to cry out the way that you did but with Yoongi pounding into you like this, the angle so deep and just right, god you were so fucking close to your climax. You clenched unconsciously, letting him know you weren’t going to last much longer and so he quickened his pace, pounding into you hard and fast as your face pressed against the door.

“Shit, ’m gonna come.” Yoongi’s thrust grew sloppy, his hand releasing your hair to grip your hip as he thrust up into you a final time, groaning against your shoulder as he bit down gently.

He kept his hips rocking just slightly as his hand found its was to your clit again, rubbing quickly until you were crying out, fingernails scraping down the door. You stumbled as he put you down, legs unsteady from your orgasm. Yoongi caught you, pulling you to him and guiding you to the bed with him.

Yoongi held you close, pressing kisses to your hair and smoothing his thumb over your cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so insecure lately. I just. I miss you.”

“I’m sorry too.” You mumbled back, leaning up to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I should have talked to you. I love you, okay?”

“I know, babe.”

The guys sat around the table in silence. They couldn’t even look at each other after what they’d heard from behind the door. Nobody dared say a word, nobody knew what to say. Jimin coughed, looking at Namjoon.

“At least your plan worked, hyung.”

“Shut up, Jimin.”

[accio-jungkookie]

shine on anyway - spider-man x reader (ch. 2)

A/N: Hi! Hopefully you guys liked the first chapter, and I really hope you like this one as well! Remember, it is a bit slower of a fic (you won’t see Spidey or Tony for a little bit yet) because I really want to build Y/N as a multi-dimensional character. I want her to be complex and understood and all that. So, I hope you enjoy! :D

Summary: A kid from Milwaukee has to grow up far more quickly than she should while facing threats that men half her age would never dare go near. So, when she has to uproot after losing everything, does she lose herself too? 

Word count: 2.6k (see? gradually increasing lol)

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety and depression, swearing, minor character death, blood and injuries, fighting, mentions of bullying, again I will add more if I think I missed any! :)

last - two - next

You sighed as you walked through the halls of school, heavily tempted to cover your ears and walk with your eyes closed. You felt like you woke up with a migraine, since all of your senses were going haywire. It felt like every scuffed shoe was squeaking directly into your ear, and every room with its lights on felt like a flashlight pointed directly into your eyes. Your stomach was killing you, and honestly you felt like hell on wheels, to quote a song from one of your favorite musicals.

You made your way to your locker, relying on Ky to make sure you survived the walk to your first class. She was truly a god send, if you are entirely honest. You would be dead without her right now.

This. Was. Bad. Honestly, your immune system was shot to shit but in all honesty, you have never gotten this sick so quickly before. So, by the time lunch rolled around, you had holed yourself up in a study room in the library, keeping all the lights off as you let yourself fall asleep. With permission from all of your teachers, of course. They knew your home situation was not the best, and that you had no choice but to go to school when you’re sick, so your teachers had all allowed you to skip, so long as your homework got turned in on time (which it always did).

You got a frantic few calls from Ky at around 4:00 when she couldn’t spot you in the library.

“Where the hell are you, (Y/N)?” She asked worriedly. You groaned as you sat up before you peaked outside of your door. You spotted your friend however and hung up before calling her name, gesturing for her to enter your small, cozy room. She turned and spotted you peeking out of the doorway before sighing in relief, putting her phone away and heading towards the room. She walked in and closed the door gently before turning the lights on, causing you to groan and shove your hands over your eyes as you lay down again. She gave you a weird look before shutting the lights off again, wondering if you had a migraine or something similar.

“You ok?” She asked quietly, sitting on the floor next to where you were laying down. She put her hand on your back, rubbing up and down as she noted how hot your body was running. ‘Fever?’ She thought with a frown, reaching over to feel your forehead to confirm it.

“Hey, we should get you to your grandparents. You’re burning up.” Ky mumbled quietly, already starting to pack your items up as you protested.

“Noooo~” You whined weakly, trying to stop her from grabbing all of your things. “I don’t want to worry them, and I still have rehearsals tonight.” You justified, not even sitting up to look at your friend. Instead you just covered your eyes again, not willing to move.

“We’ll tell your director you aren’t feeling good, and we’ll tell your grandparents that rehearsal got cancelled then. You need to go home and take some medicine and rest.” Ky said with a frown, finally gathering all of your items in her hands before reaching down to help you up.

“Ok.” You relented with a frown, not wanting to disobey your friend. She is only trying to help, so you wouldn’t be the one to say no to her. Plus, small Asian gets big mad. You don’t want to feel the fallout of her yelling at you in Japanese when you have such a raging migraine. Again. Plus, her threats get very… creative.

“Alright, stand up then.” She mumbles, shouldering your bag and wrapping an arm around you with a frown. She pulled your weight as you stood, stumbling a bit as she steadied you.

“I’m calling my mom to get us, and then you’re going to sleep after you take some medicine, ok?” Ky stated as you both made your way back down to the entrance of the school. You heard Ky talking to her mom in Japanese, picking up on parts of the conversation (you had known her since you were both six, there was no way you wouldn’t pick up on some parts of the language) before she hung up and spoke to you again.

“Mom will be here in 15, so sit down until she is.” Ky said as she lowered you to the floor, where you curled up a bit into yourself, suddenly getting a lot colder. You shouldn’t be this cold, you think. It’s April, so at most a shiver if it’s raining, but you’re shivering like it’s the dead of December. The feel of the cold tile below you did nothing to help your situation. 

As promised, 15 minutes later Mrs. Tanaka was pulling up in front of the school, and Kyomi was practically carrying all of your weight to the car. She dumped you into the back seat then climbed into the front. She frowned at you as you struggled to buckle yourself in before greeting her mom.

“Hi, Mama.” Kyomi said before looking back at you. “Y/N is really sick; can we take her home quickly?” She asked, and her mom nodded yes.

“Of course.” Mrs. Tanaka answered in Japanese, smiling at you through the rear-view mirror. “Anything for our Buggie.” She said with a smile, making sure you were buckled, as well as Ky, before starting to drive you home. You zoned out after a while, just listening to Ky and her mom talk quietly in the front seat as the car kept on. It started to feel weird the longer the drive took, and you could recognize that you were getting motion sick. You sat up and looked out the front window intently, willing the feeling away. You recognized that there were only a few more blocks until you were home, so you just clamped your jaw shut hard and sat through the feeling. Eventually, you were home and being escorted to your room by Ky, mumbling that rehearsals were cancelled, no you weren’t hungry, and no you weren’t sick just tired, to get your grandparents off of your back. It worked, because within minutes you were huddled under your blankets, fast asleep before the clock even struck 5:00.

You woke up the next morning on Saturday to a text from Kyomi.

‘Hey, check out this video! People are calling him spider man I guess :)’ the text read, with a link sent immediately afterwards. You sat up and looked at the clock, seeing it was 8 a.m. and you groaned tiredly before you realized your head felt a million times better. You smiled, thinking it must’ve just been a nasty bug that you had, before you clicked the link. You watched the kid swing on what appeared to be webs in a pair of bright red sweats.

“Very on brand.” You mumbled, watching him climb up a wall, your eyes focusing hard on the small screen as you tried to reason out how that was possible. Almost, if not every rule of physics was ignored in the video. Logically, humans cannot climb walls, duh. Maybe he had some kind of special adhesive on his gloves or something. And surely, he isn’t… making the webs himself? Like, they can’t be coming out of his body. You watched closer and noted that, at least the webs weren’t coming from his wrist but a contraption on his wrist. You sighed and texted Kyomi back.

‘So, is he a new avenger or something? Bc I know we don’t need any more of them trying to play dress up’ you sent with a sigh. Sure, they weren’t the worst thing to happen to the planet, but after the attacks that happened in New York, what happened to your mother… You couldn’t stand them. You got out of bed and stretched, heading upstairs to get breakfast. You spotted the note on the counter that your grandparents would be gone for the day, heading north to Door County for some early season farmers market or something. You sighed and went to set down the paper before you realized it was stuck to your hand.

“What the fuck-!” You yelled, getting the attention of your dogs as they ran up to you, staring at you and waiting for a treat or something, hell if you knew. The paper wouldn’t get off of your hand and you were freaking the hell out. You went to set down your phone to peel the paper off when you realized that the phone was now also stuck to your hand.

“OhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGod-“ you chanted as you freaked out, trying to get the items out of your hands. This would be the one and only time you would honestly be okay with throwing your phone across a room if it meant it would get off. You felt the phone buzz in your hand, meaning that Ky had texted back, and you looked at the screen, not really seeing her message in your state of panic. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves a bit. You opened your eyes and slowly opened your hand, letting your phone drop onto the table before you peeled the paper off of your hand, finding it awfully weird how it pulled your skin a bit. You threw the paper onto the table and went to the sink, scrubbing your hands to make sure that some superglue hadn’t magically appeared there. You dried them gently on your pants then walked over to your phone to read Ky’s message.

‘ig he isn’t an avenger, but I bet that tony stark has his eyes on him” she had texted back, causing your eyes to roll. You sent back a quick ‘sure, ok lol. bc Tony stark is just keeping his eye out for the next freak show’ before locking the screen. You walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, your dogs getting bored of you and moving somewhere else in the house to play. You sighed and decided to try the whole “sticky thing” again, since you knew your hands were thoroughly clean. Therefore, logically, nothing should blatantly ignore physics. You closed your eyes for a moment before tensing the muscles in your hand, then peeling your eyes open. You opened your hand flat, and then flipped it upside down quickly. Your eyes nearly popped your head as you watched the phone defy gravity, sticking to your open palm.

“What the fuuuuuuck-“ You whispered, turning your hand around to look at the phone from every angle. You relaxed again, seeing as it worked last time to get rid of the stickiness (?) and watched it fall into your lap.

“I think… I think I’m losing my mind.” You mumbled with your eyes still wide. You didn’t even know what to think, nearly shitting you pants at what you saw yourself do. You weren’t even 15 yet! How the hell are you supposed to know what to do! You let yourself panic for another moment before you took a breath, trying to force yourself to calm down. You had a crazy idea, but hell if you weren’t going to try it.

“Ok, Spider-Man. Let’s see if I’m, uh, you.” You mumbled with a sour face as you walked over to the only wall in the living room without decorations covering it. You double checked around you that the curtains were closed before turning back to the wall with a nod. You took another deep breath and put your hands on the wall above your head, tensing your fingers and pulling slightly, putting your feet on the wall below you slowly. Your eyes widened as you realized, holy shit, I’m on the wall.

“I’m on the wall.” You mumbled, slowly removing one hand and moving it up, then your foot, and then continuing until you had made it to the top of the wall, eyes wide as you breather heavily.

“I- what the- what.” You said, mind blank as you looked at the floor, a good foot and a half below you. You sighed and looked up at the ceiling that is now so much closer to your nose. You nodded and decided, yeah, okay, on the ceiling I go. You moved your body and slowly started to crawl again, eyes wide as you slowly moved and slowly, ended up on the ceiling.

“This… goes against physics so hard.” You mumbled, slowly moving around until you decided, hey, maybe I shouldn’t be on the ceiling. You almost hyper-fixated on the physics, about any possible, logical explanation as you slowly climbed down again and promptly freaked out. You weren’t sure what to do, or who to tell, if anyone. You ran down to your room and sat down in front of your laptop before you googled Spider-Man, trying to figure out what he could do to test it for yourself. There was no way, right?

You knew the webs weren’t from his body, but you noticed he had amazing balance and strength, almost too much for a human. Hell, he had stopped a bus dead in its tracks with just his hands. So you nodded, standing up again and looking around your room. You had no clue what was heavy enough for you to test, before you spotted your packed bookcase.

You walked over to it and pulled it away from the wall, eyes widening already at how easy that was. You nodded before squatting down, mumbling small encouragements to yourself, before you got your fingers underneath it and just… Stood. You stood up with this bookcase in your arms like it weighed no more than a few books. You nodded to yourself again, still horribly confused as you returned the case to its designated spot, eyes wide.

“Okay what the fuck.” You practically laughed before your face dropped. You thought quickly before sitting at your desk again, pulling up Google and the picture of the spider from the auditorium that bit you.

“There has to be a reason that he’s called Spider-man of all things, right?” You mumble to yourself, trying to find out what kind of spider had bit you. Since it even had the ability to bite you, that ruled out hundreds of kinds right away, and of the handful left, none of them had the same coloration at all of the spider that had bitten you. And even then, logically none of them had any way to alter the human body. Honestly, that is probably scared you the most.

“Okay, so let me think through this…” You mumbled to yourself, pulling out a pen and a notebook. You wrote down your own name and drew a line underneath it, writing underneath it what you knew you could do now so far. Super strength and sticky hands/wall climbing were the only things so far, but you were willing to bet there was more. Your brows wrinkled and you wrote down enhanced eyesight, heightened senses. It would make sense, since suddenly you didn’t need your glasses, and it felt like your senses had been dialed up to 11. You put your notebook down and tossed the pen on top before standing up, glancing at the clock on your desk and seeing it was almost noon. You sighed and rubbed your eyes, deciding to get ready for the day. You had to buy groceries today, and Nana would be very upset if you forgot.

So, you did just that. You got ready, went to the store, and picked up the few groceries that your house needed. Everything was totally fine and normal until you were walking home. You had your earbuds in, and you were crossing a street when you felt it. Every nerve in your body went haywire and you got immediate goosebumps. Your eyes widened, still staring at your feet, but you just knew you needed to jump. So, you did. Really fucking high, right over the car speeding towards your side. You landed on your feet, all of the bags in your hands still, and your eyes were blown wide.

‘What the fuck was that’ you screamed in your head, covering your face and rushing home. So, you could jump really high, and you could run fast (since you got home in half the time it usually would have if you had run it at top speed), and you had some random… feeling?

“Being a freak is fucking… freaky.” You laughed at yourself quietly as you got home and sorted out your groceries.

[savetimeless]

Hey. First I love your writing. Second I have a prompt for you if u have the time. Idk if u prefer vague or not but the time team gets separated during a mission and it's in the middle of a battle(to be chosen by you) and Lucy ends up getting knocked out and when Wyatt finds her he panics thinking she's dead and starts crying and admits that he loves her and she can't leave him and she wakes up and they kiss once back at mason. This would be pre relationship/ start of relationship.

Anon said: Lucy get’s severlyhurt in a mission and Wyatt blames himself and freaks out for it.

 Anon – this prompt came insoon thereafter yours did, and I figured they were so close that I couldcombine them. HOWEVER, as I was writing, I had a second idea, which was muchmore vague than this prompt called for, and so I think I’ll write another onefor you that fits yours a bit more and this one much less. SO WATCH THIS SPACE.

mockingjays-daughter, you’re a legend and your praise gives me life and inspiration. and about the vague thing; i actually don’t really mind at all. the more specific you are the more likely i am to write something you had already pictured and want to see. if its vague i’ll just do what i want which might be very different to what you intended. so really its up to you! 

SO I feel like thispoint needs some explanation. I decided against a love confession in the battle,bc when I was writing it I was thinking that this would be set pretty soonafter the season 1 finale, and in my personal opinion (that, while I understandothers might not agree with, I unfortunately project into my writing), I justdon’t think they’re in love yet. YET. I truly do think that’s where they’reheading, though, and I think Lucy is a little more in it than Wyatt.

I wrote the scene three orfour times, and in the end I decided that a confession just didn’t fit in withthe way I’d been writing them, my understanding of their feelings, and in thescene in general. I snuck it in a little bit at the end (which felt much morenatural to me), so I hope that’s enough? I’m really sorry about it though, bcit was in the prompt and I probably should have just sucked it up and done it,but …

Also this is vaguelyinspired by that snippet in the promo for the show. Enjoy!

high on the sunlit violence read on ao3! 

 Lucy keeps an eye on theclock the whole time they’re in the room. They’ve not been tied up, and theofficial word is that they’re not prisoners, but it sure feels like they are(and Wyatt says they won’t even know how fucked they truly are until itsalready too late).

They’d been found in theearly hours of the morning, and put in the room they’re currently in at 4:37am.It’s now 6:52, and there’s less than an hour until the base is bombed.

Wyatt and Rufus know itstoday, but they don’t know that it will be so soon, and she can’t even warnthem because there’s a mirror in this room and she’s seen enough T.V. to knowshe shouldn’t trust that no-ones listening. And maybe it’d save a lot of livestoday, but the Allies can’t win the war without the U.S., so she’ll keep hermouth shut.

Her leg is bouncing and itsimultaneously feels like time has slowed to passing like the syrup of honey,and like even with the Lifeboat she will never be able to stop time fromgetting to the point it will.

Rufus’s anxiety is feedingoff of hers, until he seems almost more panicked than she does. Wyatt, somehow,is keeping calm, though that may be because he’s been in situations like thisbefore (though never exactly likethis before; Pearl Harbor becomes of the most famous surprise attacks inhistory, and with good reason).

Eventually, though, shecan’t keep her mouth shut any longer. “Guys,” she whispers hurriedly, “we needto get out of here, now. Back to theLifeboat. We don’t have long –“

A voice crackles through asmall speaker in the corner of the roof. “No talking.”

Lucy waits several moreminutes, but then starts speaking again. “We have 18 minutes,” she saysharshly.

“No talking!”

It doesn’t matter. Theyknow now. And no one else is any wiser.

Rufus starts to breathe alitter heavier and even Wyatt seems alarmed now.

“We need a distraction,”Wyatt says lowly. “And I need a – a pin, or something.”

The door slams open. A manin uniform, to the same effect as their costumes, steps into the room.

Lucy and Rufus sit alittle straighter, but Wyatt remains relaxed, though Lucy knows that meansnothing; the man was the most observant person she knows, he’d hardly not beanalyzing everything about this newcomer.

The man sits, but doesn’tsay anything. The longer he’s there, the more anxious the three get, thoughWyatt attempts to conceal it. Probably because the longer he’s there, the moresmug the man looks, likely in response to their growing panic (though he doesn’tknow it has nothing to do with him).

The clock seems to tickslower and slower but faster and faster and before any of them have had a real crack at talking their way out, ormaking some kind of distraction, they hear the sound of an explosion fromoutside.

“What the –“

Wyatt takes theopportunity of the man’s distraction and knocks him out with a single punch.

They all stare for asecond, and then the building rocks from the force of a bomb dropped close byand they spring into action. They get out of the building quickly enough, andwhen the door opens they pause for a moment in shock at the sight before them.

Men are shooting into thesky as bullets and bombs rain down from it. There is complete chaos everywhere,and a lot of people are already dead.

Lucy spies a car directlyin front of them and shouts, “Run!”

The three duck and weavethrough the anarchy and jump into the car. Wyatt turns the key and starts todrive, just as the pile of crates that had been beside them explodes.

Their ears ring andeverything is muted, but Wyatt just keeps driving. They have a couple miles todrive to get to the Lifeboat, and he wants the three of them out of here assoon as possible.

He thinks they are safe asthey drive out of the thick of it, but then he feels Lucy smack his arm and shoutout a panicked, “Wait!”

He slams on the breaks andbefore the car has stopped, and before he realizes what she’s doing, she’sjumped from the car and is running away from them.

“No, Lucy, wait, wait!”

But she’s gone.

“Fuck!” he shouts, andhits the steering wheel. “Rufus, stay with the car. Make sure no one takes it.”

He runs after her, andspots her in the distance kneeling down by someone injured.

“Lucy!” he yells. “Lucy,get back in the fucking car!”

She looks at him over hershoulder and shouts back, “He’s hurt. We can’t –“

The whistle of a bombdropping makes his heart stop. He runs towards her faster.

The force of it knocks himback and on his ass.

It takes him a minute toblink away the confusion in his head, and then Rufus is there, helping himstand. He blinks many times, trying so hard to focus but unable to.

“Loo-shee,” he slurs.“Where – where’s Lucy?”

Rufus slings Wyatt’s armaround him. “I don’t know! Look, I need to get you back to the car. Just holdon, alright!”

There’s blood drippingdown his face and he touches his fingers to it.

“Lu – Lucy. Rufus, getLucy.”

Suddenly, he’s sitting inthe car again and Rufus has disappeared. He slips in and out of consciousness,jolted into awareness by the sound of bombs.

It seems like forever whenRufus finally gets back, an unconscious Lucy in his arms. Rufus gently puts herin the back seat next to Wyatt, then goes around the start driving.

Wyatt can feel tears onhis face, maybe from the pain of the wounds he’s now feeling, maybe from thesheer terror of seeing Lucy in such a way (he know which one it is: Lucy.Always Lucy).

The car starts to move,but Wyatt ignores it, lets Rufus take point, and instead reaches out a hand toher face.

There’s dried blood fromher ears and nose, and a cut on her forehead just behind her hairline that’sstill bleeding.

“Please be okay,” hewhispers, caressing her face lightly. “I can’t lose you, too.”

They get back to theLifeboat quickly, and Rufus first helps Lucy in, then Wyatt.

When they get back to2017, Lucy is still unconscious and Wyatt now has to deal with a severe bout ofnausea as well as the buzzing migraine is his head.

Rufus helps Wyatt stumbleout of the Lifeboat, and there’s a flurry of movement around them to help them.

Wyatt suddenly findshimself in the medical room, Lucy in a bed beside him. He floats in and out ofconsciousness, people coming in and out to check on both him and Lucy.

When he finally comes toproperly, almost 24 hours later, Lucy is already awake, sitting up in her bed andreading a book on Pearl Harbor.

When she sees him awakeand looking at her, she closes the book, thumb marking the page, and waves itat him.

“Stayed the same,” shesmiles.

“Must have had someunknown ripple effect,” he gripes, then sits up, hand on his head.

She stops smiling.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just .. . sorry.”

She shrugs. “I’ve come toexpect such pessimism from you,” she replies.

He rolls his eyes, butconcedes he is usually the doom and gloom of the trio.

Memories of the bombsurface, of being separated from her and not knowing if she was alive or dead.They make it difficult to breathe.

He takes a moment to takeher in, then asks, “Are you okay?”

She shrugs a shoulder thenopens her book again and begins to read. He watches her, her hair pulled backin a bun, sweatpants and a large jumper. She’s smiling a little as she reads,and he has the insane urge to get into her bed and just hold her.

He’s just tired enough,just drugged enough, just in pain enough to actually do it.

She doesn’t make a noiseas he gets into her bed, but she does smile. He rests his head on her chest andswings an arm around her waist. She brings one hand up to run her fingersthrough his hair, the other chucking the book on the nightstand and then restingon his bicep.

They stay like that forseveral minutes, an absurd amount of emotion welling up in him and making himturn his head to look up at her. She looks down to him, and electricity chargesbetween them. His hand comes up, seemingly of its own accord, to press againsther cheek, his thumb tracing her cheekbone.

She doesn’t say anything,and it seems obvious to him where this is going, and so, without objection fromher, he leans up, his hand guiding her lips to his.

It’s slow but searing,heated yet tender. It feels like it’s been inevitable for a thousand years butlike something he doesn’t deserve. His heart beats as loudly in his chest asthe bombs they narrowly escaped.

She pulls away first,tenderness on her face and in her eyes, and it overwhelms him so much that heturns away again, to his original position.

His affection for herchokes his throat, and its with the panic of going on another mission, anotherpossibility of losing her that he, rather daringly, confesses, “I think I’mfalling in love with you.”

Her lips press against hishair, and her hand on his bicep tightens to fist in his sleeve.

“I think I’m falling inlove with you, too.”

The sound of her wordsring in his ears until he falls asleep, happiness in his heart.