#starke is not a real doctor

[howtofightwrite]

I'm writing a scene where character A gets ambushed by an assassin. A gets injured and starts bleeding out. B swoops in to save them in the nick of time, but A starts fading in and out of consciousness. B transports A using a horse-drawn carriage (setting is 1890's London, so no cars) to a safe place for medical attention. Would the carriage be safe enough for transportation or make things worse? Also, any ideas where the wound could plausibly be located on A? (Stab/cut, no guns.)

Okay, so this is a good news/bad news situation.

The good news is that blood loss is really easy to understand. If someone pokes a hole in you, and you start leaking, you'll generally keep leaking at a pretty consistent rate until you manage to stop the leak, or until you start getting additional holes poked in you.

Now, joking aside, moving around, and staying active can accelerate bleed out. Especially if you're engaging in activity that keeps your heart rate up. For example: Running, or fighting. But, normally, you're going to keep losing blood at a fairly consistent rate. (Now, it's worth noting, as you lose blood, your body will actually increase your heart rate to keep oxygen going to your brain. This means that the rate of loss isn't completely consistent. You'll also start hyperventilating.)

The fun part about blood loss is it can actually turn into a math problem. If you know the volume lost per interval, you can calculate roughly how long it will take to die. Just take 2,000, then divide that by the blood lost in milliliters per interval (so, for example, minutes), and then you will know how many minutes your character has before they bleed to death. (Technically you can go over that two liters lost a little bit. (In sloppy napkin math, this means that you'll slightly overestimate how long the character will last.)

Here's the problem.

Hypovolemic shock has four recognized stages. These stages are bracketed by how much blood you've lost. Stage one is up to 15%, Stage two is 15-30%, Stage 3 is 30-40%, and Stage 4 is 40% or more. You might know that the human body has roughly five liters of blood in it, and if you were paying attention you'll notice that two liters is 40% of five liters.

As a quick aside, Stage 1's only symptom is that you'll be a little paler than usual. Otherwise you're basically fine (even if you don't feel particularly great.) To put this in context, you can (almost) lose a liquor bottle's worth of blood without serious side effects.

Once you hit stage 2 and 3, you'll see some mental issues. Anxiety and restlessness at Stage 2, confusion and impaired reasoning at stage 3.

Loss of consciousness (and comas) are symptoms of stage 4 blood loss.

This is the bad news. If you are losing consciousness from loss of blood, you have already lost so much blood that your body (and possibly your brain) are already dying. Humans can lose a frightening amount of blood before it incapacitates them. And, that fun little math problem earlier, the time to death that you're calculating, is also the time to loss of consciousness, because there's a tiny margin between, you bled to the point that you're drifting in and out of consciousness, and, you have bled to death.

There's still some hope here, but it's not great. First aid for hypovolemic shock is to stop the bleeding. It kinda makes sense, because if you don't, they'll bleed to death and after that, it won't really matter. That means, if you're swooping in to the rescue, the first thing you need to do is stop the bleeding, as best you can. When you're already looking at someone in stage 3 or 4, you're not going to stop it in the field, and the best you can do is buy time. But that is a critical step.

This leads to a really important question. How long did it take your character to lose two liters of blood?

Because, if they lost that much blood duringthe fight (which is, actually possible with some arterial hits), there is no medical science that would keep them alive long enough to get them to a surgeon. Not in 1890, and even in 2024 it'd be touch and go with modern emergency trauma packs.

This is a mortal wound.

Now, if you slow it down, and they're bleeding out over the course of the ride, that's entirely feasible. You'll probably want to read up on the exact stages of hypovolemic shock, keep in mind that the stages do transition from one into the next. And, keep in mind that, “slipping in and out of consciousness,” is basically the end. At that point they're about to die. Immediate surgical attention could still save their life, but they need a hospital. This is beyond the scope of what a back alley clinic could reasonably deal with.

I know I didn't address it earlier, but, “where,” could be pretty much wherever. So long as it didn't sever an artery, because at that point they would be dead. Arterial nicks could result in serious bleeding over time. Really, any serious, persistent blood loss that refuses to clot could create a situation like this. Deep tissue penetration, particularly when it damages internal organs, can be pretty nasty, and surprisingly hard to stop a bleed. If someone is hemorrhaging internally, that's going to require surgical attention to keep them alive, and any effort to stop the bleed will really be wasted effort (because they'll continue bleeding into the chest cavity), though, unless your characters have a pretty solid grasp of anatomy, they're unlikely to know that.

The real issue here, from a practical application, is just the, “swooping in at the last minute.” If you're really coming in at the last minute, you've got a minute to make peace with their death, and move on. If you get there sooner, you have more of a scene. You have more options to spool out the drama, and subvert expectations.

Consider, alternately: Your character comes in to disrupt the assassin, and the pair make their escape. While escaping, the character who's been injured discovers they're bleeding. Leading their rescuer to realize that the situation is much worse than they initially thought, and having to change route to a hospital, while the injured character starts to become less coherent.

In this alternative, you can carefully track how quickly the character is bleeding out, so that they're getting into the hospital right around the time it's starting to become touch and go. With a real possibility that they'll die, either before or during surgery. (Also, with added stress that now your character needs to keep them safe in a public space, while that assassin is still on the loose, and they can't move the injured character to someplace more secure.)

So, you've got options, and now you've got a math problem you can play with to figure out how quickly your characters will expire after you poke new holes in them.

-Starke

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[that90ssmshow]

[lightwaslaughter]

thinking so hard about ironstrange.. thinking about stephen doing everything he can to find a reality where tony lives.. thinking about stephen holding back his own grief because even though he saw thousands of realities where he and tony were close, he didnt actually know him in their reality..

[tincanmans]

I don’t think we’re appreciating the fact that T*m Cru*se didn’t get to play Superior Iron Man enough. He would’ve looked ugly AND stupid considering how the other Illuminati went out.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Two Normal Arms

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!reader

Synopsis: when Peter breaks his arm, he notices he gets a lot of attention from you. So much attention that he prolongs the broken arm as long as he can

Masterlist

Peter had a strict no texting while swinging rule.

That rule was broken one night on patrol during a particularly heated back and forth text conversation with Ned over whether chili was a soup or an entirely different category of food. Peter didn’t feel like waiting until he got home to respond, so he texted with one hand while he shot webs with the other. His eyes were glued to his phone as he went to grab a web that wasn’t anywhere close to where he thought it was. He went crashing to the ground, landing right on his right arm. He heard the crunch loud and clear and let out a little whimper. Peter peeled himself off the pavement and pulled his mask off to look at his arm.

“Well that’s not good.” He mumbled when he saw the curve in a place his arm didn’t typically curve.

He knew there was no way he could swing home with the arm but he was too far to walk. He looked around and realized he was in your neighborhood. He’d been to your place once before when Tony first bought you an apartment and wondered if he could find it again by memory. He ran up and down the block until he spotted a window with a light on near the top floor of a building twice the size of Peters. He could see a little Iron Man flag in the window and took a leap of faith that that was your apartment. He cradled his arm to his chest and gingerly climbed the side of the building until he reached the window. He used his head to knock on the window and sighed in relief when he saw you running to open it.

“Peter? What are you doing up here?” You whispered.

“I’m sorry. I would never bother you at home but I got hurt really badly and I can’t swing.” Peter winced and held up his arm. You could see exactly where the break was and put a hand over your mouth.

“Oh my God. Come in.” You said as you wrapped an arm around him and helped him inside. You helped Peter sit down on your couch before sitting on the coffee table in front of him.

“Let me see this.” You said and gently moved his hand away from his arm. It was bent in an awkward way and resembled an “s”, something you didn’t know arms could do.

“Is it bad?” Peter asked you.

“One second.” You smiled sweetly and calmly walked into the next room. When you returned, you had a forced smile on your face.

“It’s not bad.” You answered him.

“You went over there to gag gagged, didn’t you?”

“I did. I’m sorry.” You cringed. “Broken bones gross me out.”

“Oh shit. You think it’s broken?” Peter asked and held the arm up. It limply hung in the air and you gagged again.

“Peter, honey, it looks like a fish hook.”

“Yeah. That’s probably not good, right?” He asked as he looked at it.

“I need to get you to a hospital.” You decided and grabbed your car keys.

“A hospital? That won’t be necessary. There’s no need for all that fuss. Can’t we just wrap it up and call it a day?” Peter laughed nervously.

“I don’t think so. I can put bandaids on your other cuts but this needs to be looked at by a real doctor.”

“You said you’ve seen every season of Greys Anatomy right? Can’t you just put on an episode and do what they do?”

“All they do is have sex during work hours. We can’t do that right now.” You shook your head as you threw your coat on. Peter stopped panicking for a second and felt his face heat up.

“But later?” He asked. You playfully rolled your eyes at him and set your keys down.

“Hang on. We gotta get you out of those clothes.”

“Really? Now?” Peter gulped and grabbed his shirt with his free hand.

“Well we can’t get checked out as Spiderman without the doctors seeing this pretty face.” You teased and cupped his chin before walking towards your room.

“Oh. Right.” He blushed and touched his chin.

“I’ll grab some of my stuff.” You called from your room. You returned shortly with a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Peter pressed the button on the center of his suit and shimmied out of it before making eye contact with you. You gulped and quickly turned around to give him some privacy. Peter blushed and stood up to shake the suit onto the floor. He gingerly stepped into the pants and pulled them up with one hand. When it came to the hoodie, he knew there was no way he could put it on with one arm.

“Um….” He said as he struggled to get his head in the hoodie.

“You need help?” You asked over your shoulder.

“Yes please.”

You laughed and turned around to help Peter get dressed. You pulled his head through the opening and laughed when his messy hair stuck straight up.

“Thank you.” Peter smiled shyly as you fixed his hair.

“Anytime.” You smiled back.

“I kinda hate that your pants fit me.” He said sheepishly and looked down at the pants you had given him.

“Why? I think you look great in my clothes.”

“Oh. Well thank you.” He blushed. “You’d probably look great in mine.”

“I don’t know if I have the muscles to fill out your suit.” You sighed and nodded towards his discarded suit.

“It doesn’t have to be the suit. You’d look good in just my T shirt.”

“Just your T shirt?” You asked coyly, making Peter go bright red.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly explained.

“We can put your theory to the test later. Let’s get your arm looked at first.” You said and pulled him towards the door. Peter gulped and made it all the way to the car before stopping in his tracks.

“I can’t go to the hospital.” He blurted. You stopped and looked at him and we’re supposed to see the embarrassed look on his face as he cradled his arm.

“Why not?” You asked him as you put your hand on his shoulder. Peter looked at your hand before looking into your eyes and sighing.

“My aunt would never be able to afford it with her new job.” He admitted. “We’re barely making rent as it is. I can’t put this on her.”

“So don’t.” You shrugged. “Put it on my dads card.”

“I can’t just charge my medical bills to your dad.” Peter laughed uncomfortably.

“Sure you can. He won’t even notice. And if he asks about the card, I’ll just tell him I was shopping.” You insisted and pulled Peter towards your car.

“I can’t ask you to do that.” He shook his head and stayed where he was.

“You’re not asking. I’m offering. Actually, I’m forcing. Get in the car.” You insisted as you opened the passenger door. You playfully pushed him into the car and buckled his seatbelt for him. You then climbed into the drivers seat and started the car.

“Thank you.” He smiled shyly when you looked over at him.

“Of course. You can trust me, Peter. I’m your friend.” You smiled back and started to drive.

“Right.” His nodded as his smile faltered a little at the word “friend” but he didn’t say anything. By the time you pulled up to the hospital, Peter was in bad shape. His arm was swelling and causing him more pain than he had ever felt. You opened his door and helped him out of the car, feeling the way he was barely able to hold himself up.

“Hey, Y/n?” Peter winced and held on tight to you.

“Yeah, Peter?”

“Do you think you could lift someone my size?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“Because I’m about to pass out.” He said right before collapsing onto the ground.

When Peter woke up later in his hospital bed, he felt a whole lot better. So much better, in fact, that he didn’t even notice the giant blue cast on his arm. He didn’t know if it was the morphine he had been given or fact that you were sitting at his bedside with your hand that was keeping him pain free.

“Hey, Peter.” You smiled softly at him and brushed the hair off his forehead. Peter sat up a little in his bed and smiled back.

“So pretty. You look nothing like your dad.” He said sleepily.

“What was that?” You laughed even though you had definitely heard him.

“Want jello.” Peter said and licked his dry lips. You held his cup of water to his lips and helped him drink as the doctor came in.

“Oh, good. He’s awake.” The doctor said.

“Woah. What happened?” Peter asked ad he noticed his cast.

“We had to do surgery on your arm to set the bone back into place. You’ll be in a cast for the next six to eight weeks.”

“I didn’t know your favorite color so I picked blue. I hope that’s okay.” You explained sheepishly.

“Blue is great. Thank you.” Peter smiled at you as he slowly felt more with it.

“It’s a good thing your girlfriend brought you in when she did. You had free fluid in your arm. It could’ve been much worse if you hadn’t come in right away.” The doctor told him.

“Oh. She’s not my-“

“Thank, doctor. Is there anything we should do now?” You cut him off as you turned to the doctor.

“He’s safe to bring home. Just keep the arm elevated and don’t get it wet. I can prescribe some pain meds as well.”

“Thank you. And could we get some jello too please?” You requested.

“No problem. I’ll be right back with that.” The doctor smiled and left the room.

“You broke your wrist, elbow and radius bone. Which I just found out is the bone in between your wrist and elbow. Who knew it had a name? But that’s why the cast goes so high.” You explained to Peter once you were alone.

“Damn. That’s a lot of bones. No wonder it hurts.” He said and shifted uncomfortably in the bed. It didn’t actually hurt that bad, but he liked it when you were worried about him.

“Oh no. It does? Can I do anything?” You asked and brushed his hair back again. Peter blushed and smiled softly as he looked into your concerned eyes.

“Just keep holding my hand, please. It helps with the pain.” He said and faked a cough for added measure. You fell right for it and squeezed his hand.

“It’s gonna be okay, Peter. I won’t leave your side. But do you want me to call your aunt?”

“No, this will just freak her out. I’ll tell her tomorrow.”

“Okay. You could crash at my place tonight if you want. I’ll drive you home tomorrow so we can tell her together. I wrote down everything the doctor said since you were still knocked out.”

“Wow. Thank you.” Peter smiled in appreciation when you showed him the list you had made. You smiled back and put the list down on his bedside table before looking at him. Peter was gazing at you intently because he could tell you had something on your mind.

“I like the color you picked.” Peter said to cut the silence.

“Oh, thanks. I was gonna go with red but I always thought you looked best in blue.” You said without looking at him. Peter blushed at the casual compliment and tilted his head to get you to look at him. You finally did look into his eyes and smiled softly.

“Peter, could I….”

“Yes?” Peter sat up eagerly at your question.

“Sign your cast?” You finished your sentence and he sat back in his bed.

“Oh, sure.” He agreed. You pulled a sharpie out of your bag and wrote your name on the front of Peters cast. Peters face reddened when he saw how big you had written it and he looked at his cast proudly.

“First one.” You smiled and put the sharpie down.

“Probably one of the only ones that will be on here.” Peter chuckled.

“Oh, really? Maybe I should add something else then.” You said and picked the sharpie back up. Peter couldn’t see what you were drawing until you gently turned his cast towards him.

“Do you like it?” You asked timidly. Peter looked at his cast and saw that you had drawn a big heart around your name.

“I love it.” Peter blushed. “Thank you.”

“Of course. It’s an honor to be the first.” You told him. “Oh, and I went by the tower while you were sleeping and grabbed some of your clothes. The doctor said I can take you home once you can stand on your own.”

“I feel great, actually. Thanks for getting the clothes.” Peter thanked you as he got out of his bed. He got changed in the bathroom and met you in the room once he was done. You helped Peter get signed out before taking him back to your apartment.

“Stay here. I’ll make up the bed for you. Can I get you anything?” You asked as you helped Peter sit on your couch.

“Could I have some water please?”

“Of course.” You cupped his chin before going to get him a glass of water. Peter would be lying if he said he didn’t love the way you were babying him because of his injury. You returned with his water and sat beside him on the couch.

“Is there anything else I could get you?”

“I would love to shower. But I can’t get my cast wet.” Peter frowned and looked at his cast.

“You don’t have to.” You said and got back up. You returned shortly with a black garbage bag and held it up to show Peter.

“You’re a genius.” He smiled and got up from the couch.

“I aim to please.” You shrugged and opened the bag up. Peter went to put his arm inside but you stopped him.

“Um, you should probably take off your shirt before I put this on.” You said sheepishly.

“Oh. Right.” Peter replied and tried to take his shirt off, which proved to be difficult with only one hand. After watching him struggle for a bit, you grabbed the hem and helped him take it off. Peters face reddened as you pulled the shirt over his head and he smiled softly. You did your best to keep your eyes on his as you tied the bag around his arm and tried not to look at his body.

“There. That should protect it from any water.” You said as you never broke eye contact.

“Thanks. That was really smart.” Peter said quietly. You stayed staring at each other for a little too long before you snapped out of it.

“The bathroom is the first door on the left. Shampoo and conditioner is all in there. And I have extra towels under the sink.“ You said as you stepped away from him.

“Cool. Thank you.” He smiled once again before walking to the bathroom. Your garbage bag idea worked perfectly and he was able to clean himself without getting any water on the cast. He dried himself off to the best of his ability with one hand and stepped back into his boxers and sweatpants from before. That’s when he realized he had left his shirt out in the living room with you. Peter gulped and fixed his hair in the mirror before going to find you again.

“Hey. All clean?” You asked when he came back into the living room.

“Yep. Could you take this thing off of me?” Peter asked and held up his arm.

“Sure.” You gulped and went over to him. You put on your best performance of pretending he wasn’t shirtless and glistening from the shower as you untied the bag and pulled it off. You made eye contact once again and quickly looked anywhere but his naked torso.

“Do you need help getting your shirt back on?” You asked and hoped the answer was yes.

“It’s okay. I think I can do it. You’ve already done so much.” Peter said as he grabbed the shirt. He managed to get one arm and both shoulders in before realizing he had no way of getting his cast through the shirt.

“I’m stuck.” He whined, making you laugh a little. He had his good arm sticking out over his head and his shirt riding up like a crop top .

“Aw. Look at you.” You chuckled and carefully pulled his broken arm through the shirt.

“Thanks. Again.” Peter laughed as well now that he was dressed.

“You’re very welcome. Now follow me. I’ll show you your bed.” You said and brought Peter to your guest bedroom. You had set it up for him while he was in the shower and put lots of extra pillows so he would be comfortable.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” You turned to him to ask. Peter looked down at your lips for a moment before going back to your eyes.

“Um….” He trailed off and looked over at the bed.

“How about some sleep?”

“Yeah.” He laughs through a yawn. “That sounds really good. Thanks for taking care of me.”

“Anytime, Peter. Goodnight.” You squeezed his arm before leaving the room. Peter stayed frozen in place for a minute and tried to touch his arm where you hand had just been, then remembered it was broken.

Peter woke up the next morning to the sweet smell of pancakes. He got out of bed and noticed that the pain in his arm had almost completely gone away. He flexed his fingers, something the doctor mentioned that he probably wouldn’t be able to do for a while, and realized his arm was probably mostly healed. He decided not to mention that discovery to you as he went to go find you.

“Good morning.” You smiled at Peter when he walked into your kitchen.

“It’s a very good morning. Hi.” He smiled back as you handed him a cup of orange juice.

“Sit. Eat. I can cut it for you if you need.” You offered as you put a plate of pancakes in front of Peter.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to.” Peter smiled gratefully and picked up his fork. He went to pick up his knife and remembered his arm was in a cast.

“Hm.” He hummed when he realized his dilemma.

“Here. I got it.” You chuckled and took his fork. You cut Peters food up for him as he watched you with a dreamy smile. He’d never gotten this much attention from you before, or any girl for that matter. He was starting to think this broken arm was a gift from God.

“After breakfast, I can take you home and we can tell May together.” You offered as you got up and grabbed a spray bottle and a comb from the bathroom.

“Thank you. For everything. You’ve done so much already.”

“Please. I’ve barely done anything.” You scoffed and proceeded to wet his hair and then comb out his bed head. Peter turned to look at you with his newly styled hair and you sheepishly put the comb down.

“Okay. I see your point. I just like to take care of people. And I feel bad that you broke your arm. I’m sorry if I’m doing too much.” You explained as you sat back down.

“That’s okay. I’m not used to be taken care of like this. It’s kinda nice.” Peter admitted without looking at you.

“I think it’s nice too. To look after you.” You replied. You looked into each others eyes for a moment and exchanged a smile. Peter finished up his breakfast and got back into your car to go tell May what happened. As you explained to her everything the doctor had told you, all May could focus on was the pretty girl Peter had brought home.

“Wait, sorry, who are you?” May interrupted with an excited smile.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m Y/n Stark. Peter works with my dad. He got hurt on patrol and my apartment was as close by.” You explained.

“It’s so nice to meet you. I’m so glad Peter had such a lovely girl to take care of him. And that he knew where your apartment was. Because he’s been there before?” May asked and clasped her hands under her chin.

“Oh my God.” Peter groaned and hung his head. “It’s not like that, May.”

“Peter’s a friend.” You chuckled. “But I was happy to look after him.”

“Well I appreciate that. And I know he does too. He talks about you all the time, you know. I just didn’t realize it was you. He didn’t tell me how pretty you were.” May added.

“May.” Peter said warningly.

“Oh, thank you.” You laughed awkwardly. “Well, I should probably get going. See you later, Peter.”

“She’s cute.” May said once you were gone.

“She is. But you’ll probably never see her again because you just scared her off.” Peter groaned.

“I don’t know. Don’t think I don’t see that signature on your cast. It’s gonna take a lot more than an overbearing aunt to scare that girl off.” May said coyly.

“Wait, you really think so?” Peter asked.

“I’m just saying. I wouldn’t go to that length for just a friend.” May shrugged. A smile crossed Peters face as it occurred to him this broken arm might have been exactly what he needed to get you to like him back.

Peter walked into campus next day with his cast in a sling. He went to the table he usually sat at between classes and saw Ned already sitting there.

“Hey dude. You never texted me back last- OH MY GOD.” Ned screamed and pointed when he saw the cast.

“Calm down. I’m okay. I just broke my arm.” Peter said with a huge smile.

“Uh, why do you seem so happy about it?”

“Because Y/n Stark took care of me.” Peter whispered excitedly as he sat down.

“Wait, Tony Starks daughter?” Neds eyes widened. “What?! How?”

“I couldn’t swing so I had to go to the nearest apartment I could find, which was hers. She drove me to the hospital and got me clothes while I was in surgery. Then she brought me home and let me sleep at her place.” Peter explained.

“You slept at a girls place?” Ned’s jaw dropped as he grabbed Peters shoulders.

“I know! I wish you could’ve seen it, Ned. She was so worried about me so she did everything for me. I’m talking combing my hair, cutting my food, she even helped me get dressed. Honestly, I think she might like me.”

“That’s hilarious.” Ned laughed. “Good thing you didn’t break your funny bone. Oh my God, wait, did you?”

“No, dude. I’m serious. You should’ve seen her. She was all over me in a way she never has been before. I think this broken arm is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“Peter!” Your voice came from behind Peter so he and Ned turned around in confusion.

“Woah. What’s she doing here?” Ned asked and shook Peters arm.

“I have no idea.” Peter replied as a smile broke out on his face.

“Hi. I hope it’s okay I showed up like this.” You said as you sat down beside Peter.

“It’s totally okay. I’m happy to see you.” Peter said and leaned on his good arm to stare at you.

“I know it must be hard to do things for yourself with only one hand, so I thought I would bring you lunch. My dad mentioned that you always eat all the peanut butter when you’re at the tower so I made you a PBJ. Do you like those?” You asked him.

“I love them. Thank you so much. This is so nice of you. You didn’t have to do that.” Peter said and touched your arm.

“It’s okay. I wanted to. I also cut you up some apple slices and packed a juice box.” You said and showed Peter was else was in the lunch bag you had brought.

“No way! I love apple juice.” Peters eyes lit up when he saw the juice. He reached for him but you put your hand on his arm.

“I got it.” You smiled at Peter and put the straw into the juice box. You then held the juice box up so that he could sip it, all while Ned watched in disgust.

“Oh my.” Ned mumbled.

“Are you doing anything tonight?” You asked Peter.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I figured since you can’t go on patrol while you’re healing, you could come hang with me at the tower. My dads been working on some new technology and I think you’d be a great help.”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds awesome.” Peter grinned and nodded his head.

“Oh, good. You said yes.” You smiled timidly. “I could pick you up after class?”

“Sure. I get out at 4:25.”

“I’ll be here. See you later, Peter.” You squeezed his arm and got up to leave.

“Did you see that? This arm is a goldmine! She’s never been this interested in me!” Peter exclaimed once you were gone.

“No girl has!” Ned said with equal excitement.

“This is even better than the spider bite. I hope I never heal.” Peter sighed happily and looked at his cast.

“Can I sign it?” Ned asked and fished in his backpack for a pen.

“Of course.” Peter smiled and moved his cast towards Ned. Ned gently held Peters arm in place and tried to write on the top of his cast above his elbow.

“Ugh, it’s too curved. Can you flex so I can get a solid surface?”

“No, I can’t flex my broken arm. And your name is just three letters. Is it really that hard?”

“I wanted to draw the blue amongus guy. Please?” Ned whined.

“Fine.” Peter rolled his eyes and flexed his arm the bets he could to give Ned a flat surface. When he did this, the cast cracked in half and fell in two pieces onto Peters lap. Chalk from the inside filled the air, making Peter and Ned cough as they waved it away.

“Oh shit.” Peter said and flexed his arm back and forth. Sure enough, it was perfectly healed.

“Dude!” Ned coughed. “I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to do that.”

“My arm is healed. Damn it!” Peter groaned and slammed his now healed arm on the table.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Ned asked as he drew an amongus character on one of the halves of Peters cast.

“No. My broken arm was the one thing making Y/n pay attention to me. Without it, she’ll want nothing to do with me.” Peter sighed and rubbed his face.

“Maybe you could break your other arm?” Ned suggested. “Or both arms?

“I’m not gonna break my arm on purpose. That’s too crazy. I just need a new cast.” Peter said as he began to brainstorm.

“Maybe not. Maybe you just need some tape.” Ned said as he held the two halves of the cast together. Peter looked at the two halves and smiled as he formed a plan.

Peter texted you that he’d meet you at the tower instead so that he could rush home to work on his plan. When you opened the tower door to greet him, the first thing you noticed was that his cast had been wrapped in duck tape down the middle that was then colored with a blue sharpie. You could see spots of wet Elmer’s glue around the obvious crack, despite the sling Peter had placed the arm in.

“Hi!” He greeted you.

“Hey, you. What happened to your cast?” You laughed and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, nothing. I just scuffed it a little.” Peter lied and pulled it deeper into the sling.

“Uh huh. Come in.” You chuckled skeptically and led him to the lab. You held the door open for Peter and noticed him touching it with his broken hand as he passed through. You were already skeptical and decided to play with him a little.

“This is so cool. Your dad never lets me in here.” Peter said as he looked around the lab in awe.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Come sit.” You smiled innocently and patted a chair at the lab table that wasn’t pulled out. Peter pulled it out with his broken hand and sat beside you. You eyed him curiously and he gave you an awkward smile. You decided not to expose him just yet and let him help you with a few things around the lab for an hour. He was beyond excited just to be there and you didn’t want to ruin it just yet.

“Can you figure out this formula for me?” You asked and handed Peter a marker.

“Sure.” He smiled and went to the whiteboard. He started writing with his broken hand and you watched with an amused smile.

“You should probably use your other hand.” You said, making Peter freeze.

“Oh. Right.” Peter forced a laugh. “I keep forgetting it’s broken. Which it definitely is. You saw it.”

“I did see it. Does it still hurt?” You asked and touched the sling.

“Oh yeah.” He lied. “Real bad.”

“Aw. Poor baby.” You pouted and brushed some hair off his face. Peter gulped and blushed under your touch as he made a fist with his broken hand. You noticed him moving his supposedly broken hand and decided to tease him a little.

“You know, it’s really a shame your arm is broken.” You said and took a step towards him.

“Why?”

“Because we have the place to ourselves. We could’ve had a little fun together. But obviously we can’t, with your broken arm and all.” You replied and watched his face carefully for a reaction.

“A little fun?” Peter gulped again as you got even closer.

“You know….” You smiled coyly and walked your fingers up his arm.

“No.” Peter swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“Come on. You’re telling me you haven’t dreamed of fooling around in one of the giant rooms in this place?” You asked and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“And you’re saying that’s what we would be doing? If my arm was healed?” Peter asked with wide eyes.

“Uh huh. Too bad it’s not.” You sighed dramatically and took a step back. Peter looked down at his fake broken arm and contemplated telling the truth.

“Yeah. That’s too bad.” He mumbled.

“Hey Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Catch.” You said and tossed a paper weight at him. Peter caught it with ease in his broken hand, making his cast break in half again. You raised your eyebrows as Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

“Shit.” He whispered.

“Don’t feel bad.” You chuckled. “I knew you were faking it the second you walked in.”

“You did?” Peter sighed and pulled the cast and sling off.

“Come on, Peter. Duct tape?”

“I know. I’m not a craft boy.” Peter admitted with defeat.

“I can tell. So what’s with the fake cast?” You wondered as you folded your arms.

“The first one was real. I swear. But it healed quicker then I thought it would and I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Then why would you tape the cast around your healed arm?”

“Because I didn’t want you to know it was healed.” Peter mumbled, just barely audible but you still heard it.

“What?” You laughed. “Why not?”

Peter sighed again before looking into your eyes. You looked at him expectingly and he knew there was no way out of this.

“Because then you won’t hang out with me anymore.” He said with a sad smile.

“What?” Your smiled faded as your arms dropped.

“Before I broke my arm, I had trouble getting you to even look my way. But that night in your apartment, I never lost your attention. Not even once. And then you showed up at my school and met my friend and I guess I liked that so much that I wasn’t ready to let go of it yet. So I taped my cast back together to keep your attention a little longer. I’m sorry.”

“Peter, I didn’t do all those things because you have a broken arm. I did them because I like you.” You said as walked back towards him.

“You do?” Peter raised an eyebrow. “Even though I have two normal arms?”

“It’s something I’m willing to look past.” You smiled teasingly. Peter smiled back before winced and gripping his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?”

“I kinda triggered the injury when I broke the cast.” He grimaced and moved his shoulder in a circle.

“Aw. Do you want me to kiss it better?” You laughed sarcastically.

“Yeah. Can you?” Peter replied with equal sarcasm and held up his arm. You moved his arm down away from his face and leaned in to kiss him. Once Peter processed what was happening, he was able to kiss you back. He wrapped his now healed arm around your waist to pull you in, feeling the dull ache he got from moving it but deciding it was worth it.

“Any better?” You asked once you pulled away.

“Much.” Peter smiled and went to kiss you again.

Tag List 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[wndaswife]

trying your hardest | wanda maximoff & gn!reader

After moving to America to join the Avengers, Wanda wants to finally make a friend to ease her loneliness. She hopes to become friends with you, and frankly, Wanda idolizes you, but her social skills are... subpar at best.

Word count: 5020

Tags: fluff, humour, some angst, emo wanda being a baby, a little thing, a small very tiny little thing, wanda has a very big crush on you :3 (she doesn't know it yet tho cuz she baby)

A/N: for plot purposes, imagine the avengers didn’t have a catfight after aou

gif credit to (i tried really hard and i CANNOT find who made this gif im sorry)

Wanda Maximoff never really had an education as a child. What education was available in Sokovia was expensive, and despite her father’s late working hours, the twins’ parents could only ever afford their apartment’s rent. The twins were homeschooled as well as their parents could teach them, but after the bombing, they were on their own. 

Government-funded schooling helped them for only so long. The schools they were sent to were decaying, and always under dwindling government watch from ongoing airstrikes. The ground shook with explosive tremors as they commuted to school on foot. Wanda and Pietro stayed at an orphanage with hundreds of other children whose parents had passed due to the war — and the Avengers. 

Even the government’s debt caught up with what was left of Sokovia. Billions of foreign debt not paid, volume of imports that had increased exponentially since Sokovia worked on rebuilding their country weren’t making enough revenue to pay exporters back. Hundreds of children were booted from government care and onto the streets. The twins attempted to learn on their own, to become informed educated people if they were to ever make a difference in the world, but in Sokovia, even resilience could only get one so far.

Then, Doctor Strucker came along, promising them the extermination of the Avengers, the Western terrorists who had made the already politically-unstable and war-torn country their battleground. 

In hopes to cure the world from their terrorist reign, both Wanda and Pietro agreed to Strucker’s experiments, but the education they were given intended for them to become weapons. They knew little of real geography and world history — only HYDRA’s propaganda meant to poison their minds with blind hatred and little else.

When it seemed like you couldn’t be any more different from Wanda as it was, you were also the team’s brain. Stark and Banner specialised in physics and mechanics, but you were the team’s hub for everything else. From computer science to philosophy, you knew everything. No one exceeded you in developing team strategy, setting the stages for mission locations, profiling adversaries, and a dozen of other things Wanda couldn’t have even fathomed when she first met the Avengers in person.

It took Wanda only several moments to realise you weren’t a frontline fighter from your muffled voice in the Avengers’ earpieces to their callouts of your name as frequent, and perhaps even moreso, than their teammates that fought alongside them on the field despite your physical absence. 

Y/N — that was your name. 

When she had fought the Avengers in Novi Grad, creeping behind the Western superpowers like a heavy looming shadow, Wanda had looked for you. Strategically, it was a rational move. You were the centre of their battle, the heart of their teamwork.

And yet, you were nowhere to be found.

It was only until she had crept up behind Clint Barton when your voice grew clearer than ever before. From the tiny earpiece, you were controlling the field. Perhaps you were just outside, or maybe you were in another country. No matter the distance, Wanda supposed your hold on the battle would be no less effective. 

It was the distraction of thinking about you, perhaps — Y/N, the invisible hand — or Barton’s sole intuition, Wanda did not know, nor did she have very much time to think it over, that had made it possible for him to counter her magic. 

Then there was pain — immeasurable pain that Wanda hadn’t felt since Strucker’s experiments. It shot through her forehead like a dozen bullets had permeated through her skull. Pietro grounded her, and soon after, the twins targeted Banner.

Despite the rumours about him, the insatiable angry force he was told to be, his mind was the easiest to corrupt. Mental instability and insecurity racked his mind, and he quickly shifted into the green beast the Maximoffs had heard so much about. 

Carrying his younger sister, Pietro took the two of them back to Ultron’s base. 

They had won that day.

You were all Wanda could think about even while she and Pietro were off missions. You weren’t the Avengers’ frontline defence like Steve Rogers, nor were you the brute strength of the team like Bruce Banner. You held your team in your hands rather than tugging them along by their leashes although you likely could if you wanted to.

Y/N. 

Who were you?

On the television after the fight on Novi Grad, Iron Man and Hulk’s brawl in Johannesburg was on the news. The city was in shambles. Pietro said something about the deaths of innocents and the success of his sister’s magic in having the Avengers turn against themselves. But Wanda could only think of what you had thought when Stark and Banner came back to their compound, beaten and sore from none other than their own fists. Wanda assumed the Avengers’ compound — wherever that was — was where you were too. 

Wanda wondered how you were dealing with the fight at Johannesburg. What were you saying about her and Pietro?

Later that day, Ultron approached the twins in their bedroom and turned on the television. Despite having been offered separate bedrooms, they insisted on sharing one. Sitting atop their respective beds on the opposite sides of the room, there was someone speaking on the television about Johannesburg across from the interviewer. Their expression was stern but their eyes were solemn. Eyebrows were furrowed together, masking concern and worry; if Wanda knew anything, it was how to read someone.

“Y/N,” the interviewer began, and Wanda’s eyes widened, her head lifting from being held up by her hands, elbows on her pillow as it laid flat atop her crossed legs. “As the Avengers’ strategist, as many put it, how are you planning on handling the devastation that came upon Johannesburg, and the inevitable contact that the Avengers will continue to have with innocent uninvolved civilians?”

The question was packed, and the news station quite clearly had their own sentiments about the Avengers; they were setting you up.

So that was how you looked. Wanda swallowed and felt her chest flutter.

With your upper lip stiff and your posture unbelievably straight, you answered without equivocation. “A common misinformed perspective of any conflict follows the belief that there is any one party entirely responsible for the consequences of violent confrontation, such as the one we witnessed in Johannesburg,” you were saying. With the way her wide eyes were pinned on the television screen, Wanda didn’t notice the way her brother eyed her obviously peaked interest.

“I don’t believe the Avengers are the world’s most honourable superheroes,” you continued. Ultron shifted and Wanda’s head tipped to the side, her interest in you ever growing. “I don’t think anyone is, no matter whose side you’ve taken since the conflict recently — and perhaps even after the invasion of New York’s in 2012.”

That was The Incident, Wanda recalled, when the Avengers terrorised New York. That’s what HYDRA had always told her and Pietro.

“Despite whose side you may be on, as differing as our collective opinions may be, one thing is undeniable — we are all trying to reach a goal of peace for the world, fighting for what we believe is just. There is nothing more powerful than that. Perhaps, it is idealism that serves to be the strength of humanity.”

Ultron laughed morosely. He ridiculed your words, but Wanda wasn’t listening. Whatever you were talking about wasn’t only about Johannesburg. What were you referencing? Who were your words meant for?

Suddenly, your head turned to the camera and Wanda met your eyes. Everything in her froze, her eyes undeviating from your face.

“Wanda and Pietro Maximoff,” you spoke. Pietro looked over at Wanda, shock written on every inch of his face, and Ultron’s eyes darted between the twins, almost accusationally as he undoubtedly suspected coercion. Wanda almost expected you to step through the television screen and into her bedroom. “I know what you want.”

The screen was shut off suddenly, the black mirror of the television reflecting Wanda’s astonished expression. She looked away, shutting her eyes as she felt the burning gaze of Ultron on her. But your words reverberated in Wanda’s mind until your every feature and movement of your lips was memorised. Like a promise, like an ode, your words were immortalised within her.

Pietro wasn’t there when you took Wanda in your arms and saved her from a falling Sokovia. He wasn’t there when you laid her down onto the Helicarrier, nor when you took her hand and told her she’d be taken care of. Wanda cried into your chest at the sight of her brother’s body.

What would he have said if he saw the way your arm refused to leave from around Wanda’s shoulders as the two of them trailed behind his body while he was carried into the compound?

Pietro liked you, and would’ve loved to meet you. He referenced your broadcasted interview several times during their fight in Sokovia. He was proud to work with the Avengers, and proud to finally work towards their goal to help people just like them. He wanted to meet you.

Your voice was different from what Wanda remembered from the broadcast, and not because her memory had failed her, but because you were just… different. You were real, and not a picture on a wall or an untouchable reality forever separated from her by a television screen. As she watched you talk and laugh with the other Avengers, you were real.

But if Wanda was honest, she was much too shy to even start a conversation with you. Perhaps it might’ve been easier to approach you if you were an admired character on one of her favourite television shows, but it was exactly what made her admire you so much that also made her feel so shy around you. 

Granted, there was much to adjust to now that she lived in America and was now a part of the Avengers, and she did believe herself to be a generally introverted person, but she was especially nervous around you.

Wanda had gotten enough confidence to speak with some team members. Natasha was welcoming and kind. Thor was easy not to feel nervous around, but his energy was far too much for Wanda to handle just yet. Bruce was much more comfortable to chat with, and Wanda found that he was able to be rather nice once he forgave her for her associations with Ultron. Steve was always very kind to Wanda and she felt very safe around him, with Steve always trying to make her feel like part of the team, but she found that they didn’t have very much in common.

And there was Vision, who seemed to have taken a liking to her since even before the final battle against Ultron. He was nice company, but she found her mind preoccupied thinking of you while in his company, wishing that it was you who gave her as much attention as Vision did.

However, she’d been wanting to start a conversation with you since the day she arrived at the compound. Initially, she needed time to herself, and along with Steve, you also made the effort to check in on her and give her your support.

Once she was finally able to gain some footing in adjusting to things while shouldering the weight of her losses, Wanda started becoming more active within the team by joining training sessions. During them, she found herself unable to stop looking at you, watching what you were doing, seeing how you interacted with everyone.

Even as the Avengers’ primary strategist that was almost never in the field, you still made efforts to train and stay connected and involved with the team — and Wanda quickly learned that training was a major part of team building.

You were everything Wanda wished she could be more like; you were the kind of person she had never thought existed in a world she believed was only full of cruelty and injustice until recently.

There was an upcoming party at the Avengers Tower in celebration of the assigned team’s return from a successful mission tracking down a recently-located HYDRA base still hiding out. It was almost any ordinary mission, but it was the first step towards steadily eradicating all of HYDRA’s bases, even after Strucker’s primary base was taken down in Sokovia. Though Steve did also tell Wanda that he felt that Tony also primarily wanted to find any reason to celebrate since it’d been some time.

Wanda hadn’t been to any of the parties yet, and she thought that she’d be able to use this one as a chance to start a conversation with you. 

Wasn’t that what people did at parties? Talk?

Truthfully, she didn’t quite know for sure — she’d only ever heard about them through the sitcoms she watched as a child. She knew only of dramatised American portrayals of teenage parties through television.

Whatever it was people actually did at parties, Wanda was certain she would be able to make some effort to talk to you. At least in a social setting, it wouldn’t be strange for her to start a conversation with you.

Wanda made herself look nice and presentable, but not too formal since she didn’t want to overdress or bring too much attention to herself. She wasn’t sure what might happen if her plan to talk with you didn’t end up working, and if she was somehow left with nothing to do, she wanted to be able to slip away without anyone noticing, as if she had never made any attempt to come at all.

While deliberating whether it was better to arrive on time or a bit later once the party had been going on for some time, Wanda realised that at some point too much time had passed and her only option now was to join the party a bit later. 

It was only once she arrived at the penthouse floor where the party was being held that Wanda finally realised how terribly  thought-out her plan was.

What would happen if she didn’t get to talk with you? What would happen if she did, and she only made a fool of herself? Would it be better, then, to stay as two people who’d never conversed so that she might retain what impression you had of her now? Even if that meant she would never get to talk with you the way she wanted?

It was far too late now to change her mind if she wanted to, as she soon found herself walking further from the elevators and into the party. 

The party was rather filled; mostly, they were familiar faces, but it looked like many brought guests, and some guests had brought some of their own. It seemed that Steve was right — atop of celebrating the taking down of the HYDRA base, this was also a social get-together. 

She was still relatively at the edges of the room, so she was still going unnoticed. As she walked over to the bar, fidgeting with her fingers as she did, she took the time to look around and try to spot you. She reached the bar, crossing her forearms on top of its counter, and tried to draw the least attention to herself while avoiding eye contact with anyone as her eyes raked through the crowd. 

Eventually she caught sight of you also at the bar, but at the very edge with your own drink, your back facing the party. Wanda’s chest fluttered and she felt she nearly stumbled moving one foot in front of the other when she turned to walk towards you. 

She worried what would happen if someone suddenly approached you from behind, which would force her to then stop wherever she was standing and pretend she hadn’t just failed at her attempt to come up to you. 

The pressing concern aided her greatly, and she was well on her way to coming up to you without hesitation. But once she actually made her way to your side and once you raised your head from your glass and looked at her, Wanda damned herself for being so distracted, now without a plan or even a terribly-planned script to follow in making conversation with you. She didn’t even get to look at what you were wearing. 

It would be too strange of her to look you up and down before greeting you, right?

“Hi,” she said, hoping that the small smile she felt on her face was actually there lest she look like an absolute fool.

You turned around in your seat in order to face her, and now having your complete, undivided attention made Wanda’s legs feel like mush. “Hi,” you replied with a friendly smile. “Are you enjoying yourself? I don’t think I’ve seen you at a party yet.”

Wanda swallowed and nervously drew shapes against the bar counter with her fingernails, also trying her best to maintain a steady, friendly smile. “No — this is the first I’ve gone to. I haven’t been here for very long. I decided only a moment ago to come.”

“I’m glad you chose to come,” you told her and suggested for her to take the barstool beside you. Wanda lifted herself onto the seat and sat, facing you.

While you were talking, Wanda took the chance to look at what you were wearing. You looked nice, and Wanda thought you always dressed in a way that put-together, respected people did. She saw you in some likeness to the well-dressed characters on the sitcoms she liked — but, of course, modern. 

Maybe she had been taking too long to respond, for you spoke again: “How have you been doing? I know that the move must have been rather hard to go through.”

When she took a moment to respond and found that a response wasn’t immediately escaping her, Wanda felt panic settle in her chest. She knew she should have planned out what to say. She looked like an idiot in front of you. She didn’t know the first thing about socialising or making friends. 

“It was hard,” she said finally. “It is hard. Not so bad now. I mean, I’m trying to adjust.”

You nodded in understanding and Wanda felt herself losing your interest; she was sure that your responses’ intentions were now only to remain polite, to keep conversing with her because you knew she didn’t make very much effort to go out. 

Then you asked, “Did you want me to order you a drink?”

“Oh, I’m okay — I don’t drink,” Wanda answered, fidgeting with her fingers between her knees. Truthfully, she’s never tried alcohol before. Maybe she should have taken you up on your offer. 

“How have you been getting along with the team?”

“I think well. I like everyone. They’ve been very kind to me,” Wanda said. She could hear herself as she spoke to you; she sounded robotic and uninteresting. She thought she might try her hand at being honest about what she was thinking then and there. “But Pietro was always the most social of us both. It is hard to get along with others without him leading the conversation.”

Wanda must have not noticed how solemn she became after she mentioned Pietro, for you reached out and brushed her shoulder with your hand supportively, your fingers squeezing gently around her and lingering for a moment before letting your arm drop.

“I understand,” you sympathised. “You don’t need to pressure yourself into anything — really. I think you fit in here well, and I think you’ve been doing a wonderful job.”

That was the first time anyone truly supported Wanda like that; she was supported by the team as she was grieving the loss of her brother, always being told that she had a shoulder to cry on or a helping hand if she ever wanted someone to talk to. 

There was something frustrating about the way the team approached her grief. They had to have anticipated that she would feel a bit better at some point — or at least well enough to get back to team member material. 

In the way she was spoken to, Pietro and her struggles with his death were always approached as something she would get over at some point or another — like Pietro was something she was going to get over. She didn’t expect anyone to understand how she felt nor to share in her grievances, but it seemed to her that what she was going through was seen only as a temporary distraction to the rest of the team. 

They were kind in giving her their support, but her grief never seemed quite real enough to them. 

Granted, she was rather new to the team, so she understood, to some degree, their inability to understand her pain. But it was frustrating, nevertheless. 

But with you, it was different. 

You didn’t talk about Pietro or her struggles and pain like it was something to get over. You valued her as she was now, and saw her efforts as they were now. 

Wanda felt slightly pathetic for how worked up she was getting over your response, be it as brief as it was, but what you said meant quite a lot to her. She felt, for the first time, that she was being spoken to as a real person rather than a ball of temporary grief and pain. 

“Thank you… I really appreciate–”

She was cut off when you were called to meet one of Tony’s friends, an expert in software development who had even helped program some of the software you used for communication with the team while they were working on the field. Naturally, they wanted the two of you to meet. 

For a moment, Wanda forgot how popular you were amongst your colleagues. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only that you had a certain kindness and authenticity about you that seemed signature to you. But if Wanda admired that about you, and if she idolised you, why wouldn’t anyone else?

You looked at Tony calling you over then at Wanda, who was awkwardly staring at the floor in some pitiful stance of defeat. It made your chest tighten.

This was Wanda’s first time joining in at one of the parties, and you were the first she spoke to. Moreover, there was a kind of sensitivity to her that you knew lay beyond her typical timidity.

Through the conversation with her, you could vaguely see Wanda’s eyes flickering behind your shoulder occasionally, where the floor’s balcony was. From there, one would have a view of the spacious training fields and the expansive forests beyond that separated the base from the main roads.

Tonight, there were clear skies and a rather prominent moon. 

Gently, you tapped the back of Wanda’s hand that was resting on the edge of the bar to get her attention, and she raised her head and met your eyes. 

“Would you like to step out onto the balcony with me?” you asked. “I’m not quite in the mood to talk with them right now.”

Wanda seemed to perk up and she straightened in her seat. She nodded, and when you stepped off from your barstool, she followed and trailed behind you as you headed for the balcony. 

She watched from behind as you led her forward. She played idly with the tips of her fingers as she watched your hair brush against your back, watching the back of your head attentively as if it could tell her anything about you. 

Frankly, she felt a bit starstruck.

A certain panic settled within her as you opened the balcony door and ushered Wanda outside and into the warm evening air; she didn’t know what to say now. 

She wasn’t certain if she was interesting enough at all to have such intimate conversation with. 

What could she say that could possibly be of interest to you?

In spite of the disappointed chatter and lighthearted jabs from the rest of the team in response to your very-obvious aversion to socialising, you closed the balcony door behind you until it clicked shut softly until it was only you and Wanda outside. 

“Is it okay that you’re out here with me?” Wanda asked, looking at you as she stepped beside you. 

“Of course,” you answered and walked forward until you could stand against the rails of the balcony. “Why not?”

Wanda appreciated how easy it was to talk with you, and how your relationship with the team wasn’t all that you were. “I thought that maybe you might prefer being out there.”

“No — I want to be here.”

Wanda flushed and she looked away, using the excuse of looking out past the training fields as an excuse to hide her face from you. 

Making a bold move, Wanda thought that she might be honest with you; she had the real opportunity to make a friend, granted she pulled it off. “Y/N, I really appreciate you being so kind to me.” She garnered some confidence and turned her body and looked at you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that,” you replied bashfully, and Wanda noticed that you also seemed a bit timid. She thought you were sensitive, and she liked that.

“But also,” Wanda added, taking in a small breath, “I really appreciate your effort in being sympathetic towards Pietro and I, even when we did not deserve it — especially after Johannesburg. Before your interview broadcast, I had never known of such kindness. It seemed you knew more about what Pietro and I wanted before even we did.”

Without a thought behind it, Wanda’s eyes left yours and she added, “I wish he was able to meet you. I am sure he would have felt equally as stunned by you.”

You asked, “I stun you now, do I?”

Surprised by the realisation of what she said aloud, Wanda looked at you and at the sight of your slight smile, also realised that you were teasing her. She flushed and rubbed her warm cheek with the back of her knuckle and distracted herself with two of the party guests walking through the field.

Wanda reminded herself that she came to make a friend — to be friends with you. So she spoke again. “To be honest, yes,” she replied. “I think you are admirable; everyone seems to like you very much, and the kind of bravery and kindness you have is of a kind I did not previously know could ever be sincere.”

She finally said it, and now, Wanda felt anxious about what you might say next.

You shifted and repositioned yourself as you pondered for a moment in consideration. “Well, I have to confess that most if not all of my bravery is rather insincere — I’m truly not as brave as you might think. In fact, I would argue that you’re more brave than I; you’ve experienced so much, undergone so much change, and yet you seem to have more drive than anyone to try your hardest at adjusting and getting back on your feet.” 

You thought she was braver than you? Wanda could collapse. She felt her chest flutter.

“But… the kindness,” you said, “is very sincere. I’m glad you see it that way.”

Wanda found herself stepping closer to you, feeling more comfortable in your company and feeling that she wanted to be closer to you physically, to hear your words within a closer vicinity and to see your face free of the soft shadows that the moonlight casted along the curve of your nose and the angle of your cheekbone. 

“I think you’re really special,” you told her. “I’m happy that you’re a part of the team. I’m glad you’re here.”

In all her life, there was only one place Wanda ever felt she belonged — with her family. Over some time, what this meant was redefined with the bombing of her home when she was ten and, recently, with the loss of her brother. There was a feeling of loss, an empty pit that burrowed itself within the deepest depths of Wanda’s identity where Pietro and her family and some sort of identity should have been.

It was not only others and her country that she lost, but a part of herself, when all the landmarks she had ever belonged to were stolen from her. But if she could learn anything from still being able to stand where she was and try her best and be brave — like you said — in spite of all her loss and grief, it was that she was not all that she identified herself with.

She still existed, and was still worth something, even without all that was lost.

It would be difficult to even begin finding who she was, exactly, without Pietro and Sokovia and her parents and the truths of herself and the world that HYDRA had always taught her. But she hoped that you might be at least the first step to her self-discovery — you were her first friend.

“Are you alright?” you asked, tipping your head down slightly to try getting a better look at Wanda’s face. 

Wanda had lost herself in her thoughts and forgot to reply to you. She must have been silent for a bit of time. “Yes, I’m okay.” She subtly swiped at her cheeks when she realised she was crying — perhaps it was from thinking of her family or of Sokovia, though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the moment was that she started crying — as she looked over at the field for a distraction again.

Without another word, you stepped forward and wrapped an arm around Wanda’s shoulders, bringing her against your body in a soft hug. It was wordless and quiet and casual — support and comfort without any conditions.

Every time Wanda believed that she’d fully grasped the world’s capacity for kindness, believed that there couldn't possibly be something more gentle than what you have thus far shown her, you prove her wrong. 

She hoped she would never be right.

[leviathanspain]

OMG I am living for the Finnick content!!! Could I request something with angst to fluff, with the prompt “look at me, look at me, you’re okay, we’re okay”? Maybe set after catching fire when they both wake up in district 13? Thank you!!

watercolor eyes

finnick odair x reader

synopsis: you didn’t think you would ever see those watercolor eyes again…

a/n: i used hearing loss as reader’s injury, there is no real explanation, so make one up :)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

it was a stunning color, almost indescribable. he was saying something, his hands moved frantically, you could see them in your peripheral. yet you remained in a trance with his eyes, watching them as they frantically searched yours. then, you realized his lips were moving, and you couldn’t hear him.

“do you think she can hear us?” he blinked, refusing to get emotional at just the thought. from how close you had been, it definitely could’ve resulted in hearing loss. the rescuing of who they could get in the arena didn’t go very well, and he hated to admit that he almost lost you. how he lost peeta and johanna, something that already weighed heavy on him.

suddenly, a scream erupted from you. finnick rose from your side, hands trying to calm you down. you were getting redder as you screamed, exhausting yourself.

“y/n!” he shouted, hoping you’d hear him and stop, but didn’t realize that you were screaming because you couldn’t hear your own voice.

you were panicking. from the looks of finnick, he could hear you, but you couldn’t hear your loud screaming. you felt the vibrations of your own voice, hand at your throat. but nothing was heard. your breath hitched as the stark realization dawned on you. you couldn’t even hear ringing in your ears.

helplessly, you gripped finnick’s arm as he searched your eyes. a doctor practically sprinted towards you. you panicked, gripping onto finnick as you fought off the doctor, a syringe in his hand. you screamed again, now out of reflex. finnick was trying to calm you down but it was hard for someone who had gone temporarily deaf. or at least he hoped it would be temporary. there was no knowing the damage.

“y/n.” he spoke as if you could hear him, shouting wouldn’t change things. you could feel his fingers on your cheek, gently wiping them as tears escaped your eyes.

you wanted to look at him, focus on his eyes, imagine the engulfing waters of the ocean, free to take you and finnick to places you could only dream of.

but the needle stabbing you wouldn’t let you float your mind away.

you wouldn’t be able to hear the ocean, let alone see it.

you grilled finnick’s arm, eyes fighting to stay connected to his, but they fluttered shut, getting one last glimpse of those watercolor eyes.

finnick watched as your eyes fluttered shut. he had been comforting you in a way he knew wasn’t helping. “you’re okay…” he whispered, “you’ll be okay.” he brushed a hair from your voice as your expression calmed. the doctors had decided to sedate you upon your outburst. “i’m sorry.” he whispered more, laying you down back into the bed, words repeating like a broken record.

it had been a week.

your ears were still sensitive, and you had been ordered to stay away from any and all loud noises, which meant you often stayed behind for when president coin called her meetings.

katniss had been making progress, from what you had gathered in whispers from finnick.

“only whispers.” he had whispered the first words you were able to hear. “doctor’s orders.” he smiled brightly. you exhaled, nodding as you matched his whisper. even the sound of your own voice was excruciating in volume. you had tried to force yourself to get used to loud volumes, but it was impossible.

it was more pain than it was worth, that even sometimes the whispers were too sharp.

so you and finnick often settled for a comforting silence. he would hold you in his arms, brushing your hair from your face as you stared deep into his eyes.

he grounded you, from the moment you met him, he had been nothing but kind. he loved you, killed for you, saved you.

“i love you.” you whispered so quietly you wondered if he could even hear you.

he looked down at you, having glanced away for a mere moment. his smile extended up to his eyes, “i love you more.” he whispered, still careful to be quiet.

[therealmrsgojo]

Timeless

pairing: gojo satoru x reader summary: you have been dreaming of a man ever since you were little; different lives with him were spent in your dreams, but when you wake up, his face becomes blurry, and you forget his name. maybe, in your real life, you might see him too. warnings: past lives, reincarnation au, kinda inspired by a song called timeless, soldier gojo, captain gojo, doctor reader, mentions of injuries, dreams, death, angst, comfort, and happy ending. word count: 10.5k

"I know that you and I would've found each other In another life, you still would've turned my head."

Present day

Sitting in the hospital break room, you let out a deep sigh, feeling the weight of your exhaustion.

The walls around you are stark white, and you lean back in your chair, cradling your third cup of coffee for the day. Despite the caffeine coursing through your veins, you can't shake off the fatigue that has settled into your bones.

Still holding your coffee, you trudge the hallway toward the restroom, your feet dragging on the tiles. You're grateful for the brief respite, a chance to relieve yourself, and take a moment to collect your thoughts.

You entered the restroom, and you glanced at yourself in the large mirror above the sink.

"What a sight you are." You can't help but chuckle at your unkempt hair, crumpled collar, and slightly moist eyes that beg for rest. You quickly run your fingers through your hair, trying to smooth it down and look presentable.

As a third-year general surgery resident at the prestigious University of Tokyo Hospital, you know that exhaustion is par for the course. Your days are filled with evaluating patients, obtaining medical histories, performing physical examinations, and assisting in surgeries.

In spite of the exhaustion and doubts that creep into your mind, you remember that one gratitude from a patient can make it all worth it.

Helping people has always had your heart in it.

You finished using the restroom and washed your hands at the sink, cleaning rigorously. After drying your hands, you grabbed your coffee cup and sipped the last bit of your warm beverage before disposing it in the nearby trash bin.

Exiting the restroom, you checked the time on your watch and realized with dismay that you had been working tirelessly for 14 straight hours. Your mind and body begged for rest.

Sighing deeply, you called it a day and reached for your smartphone to text your colleague about your departure. You made your way towards the rest areas of your residency building, eager to collapse on one of the double deck beds.

Entering the rest area, you couldn't help but smile at the sight of the inviting beds that you had been dreaming of all day. You remove your top shirt, knowing no one is around to see you and replace it with fresh clothes from your mini drawer.

After removing your shoes, you crawl onto the soft mattress and let out a small laugh of contentment.

"Fucking finally." You stretched your limbs and pulled the blanket over your body, feeling the softness of the fabric against your skin. You close your eyes and let out a deep breath, feeling the day's stress slowly melt away as you drift off to sleep.

1944

The morning was calm and peaceful, with warm kisses pressed onto your skin, creating a sense of comfort and safety. You could feel your husband's hands roaming around your waist as he whispered sweet promises on your skin.

Slowly waking up from your slumber, you reached out to the hands holding your waist, sensing something amiss.

"Satoru, what's wrong?" Your worried voice asked as you looked at the man hugging you as if it were the end of the world.

"Just hugging my beautiful wife," he replied with a smile as he moved closer to you, kissing your lips lovingly and slowly. You gazed at him, seeing his white hair and piercing blue eyes that always made your heart ache with love and longing.

As the kiss ended, you whispered, "It's today, isn't it?" His smile faltered, and you could sense the anxiety and fear in his eyes.

It was today, the day your husband was to be deployed to the war. You felt a churn in your stomach as you remembered all the stories of the horrors of war and the uncertainty of whether he would return home alive or not.

You avoided his gaze, afraid that he would see the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You knew you needed to be strong in front of him, to support him and lift his spirits. You didn't want him to be stressed or distracted on the war front, as that would be the last thing he needed.

"Sweetheart," he said, his voice low and soft, "Can we hug more before we get out of our bed? I wouldn't mind being late today if that means I get to be with you more."

Without a word, you nodded and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, holding him tightly. You looked into his eyes and said, "I love you."

"I love you too, (Y/N)," he replied, his voice filled with warmth and affection.

Minutes that felt like seconds passed, and before you knew it, your husband was walking away from the porch of your home. You watched him leave as you stood on the porch of your home, cradling your hands to your chest.

It was hard to hold back your tears as you watched him walk away, the distance between you growing with each step.

But then, Satoru turned back, looking at you with a pained expression. Without hesitation, he ran back to you and tightly wrapped his arms around you. You sobbed, feeling his tears fall on your shoulders.

"I promise to get back home as soon as possible, okay? Don't be too sad. I promise I'll come back to you. We'll see each other again, every time. You wait for me," he said, his voice cracking with emotion as he cupped your face as if trying to memorize your features.

He kissed away your tears and continued, "I'll write you letters so you won't get too lonely."

You nodded, feeling a mixture of love and sadness in your heart. "Take care of yourself, Satoru. I'll wait for your return," you said softly, holding him close.

Kisses were exchanged, hands were tangled in each other's hair as the two of you promised to see each other again. It was a bittersweet moment, but you knew your love would endure, no matter how far apart you were.

As time flew by, days turned into weeks, which then transformed into months, marking the most prolonged duration you had ever been separated from your husband since your marriage.

The distance between you both seemed unbearable, and the only way to stay connected was through letters sent back and forth. Every word written in these letters was crafted with the utmost care and love as both of you poured your hearts out on the paper.

Gojo Satoru took every opportunity to share the most minor details with you, expressing his love and longing for you.

You developed a daily routine of reading his letters, savoring each and every word as if it were a vital source of oxygen. The mere act of holding those pieces of paper in your hands and tracing your fingers over his familiar handwriting brought you a sense of comfort that nothing else could.

It was as though your heart could only find solace in the assurance that he was still out there; he's alive in the middle of the war, thinking of you and missing you just as much as you missed him.

Letters that can soothe the ache in your chest.

I can't even begin to describe how much I miss you, my dear wife. Every single day, from the moment I wake up to the moment I go to bed, you're on my mind. I think about the way you laugh, the way you smile, the way you move, the way you talk, the way you love. You are the most important person in my life, and I cherish every moment we've spent together. I know we're apart right now, but please know that my love for you is as strong as ever. I hope to see you soon, hold you, kiss you, and tell you how much you mean to me. You are the light of my life, my light in this war. I love you more than words can express, and I can't wait to be with you again.

As you finish reading the final lines of the latest letter you received, you can't help but feel a warm glow spread across your chest. You place the letter on your bedside table, making a mental note to write back tomorrow and express how much you appreciate their words.

With a contented sigh, you reach for your comb and carefully work out the tangles and knots in your hair. The rhythmic motion of the combing is soothing, and you feel yourself growing more and more relaxed as you prepare for bed.

After caring for your hair, you finally finished and decided to call it a night. You tossed and turned around the bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but to no avail.

A deep frown formed on your face as you kept your eyes closed, hoping that sleep would eventually come.

You let out a deep breath, slowly opening your eyes to find that your husband's side of the bed is empty. Your heart sank as you stared at the vacant space beside you, looking bare and empty.

You try to shake off the feeling, but it persists, and you find yourself unable to look away from his spot.

After several minutes of staring at the bed, you finally pull yourself out of it and walk to the closet. You start digging through your husband's clothes, searching for something that still carries his scent.

Finally, you find one of his shirts and hold it up to your nose, taking a deep breath.

The familiar scent of his envelops you; tears start streaming down your face as you clutch the shirt to your chest, whispering silent prayers for your husband's safety. You sob into the shirt, longing to be with him and wishing that he was there to hold you to sleep.

You were only able to sleep, hugging his clothes tightly on your chest.

Another month passed, and you found yourself walking back to your humble abode, a basket full of fresh produce tightly clutched in your hands. The sun began to set, and the sky was painted with hues of orange and pink.

You smiled as you thought about the meal you would prepare for your husband, Satoru, later that evening.

You received a letter from him just last week informing you that he would return home today after being finally discharged from the war.

Standing in the kitchen, you were determined to prepare the dish to perfection, having the recipe memorized like the back of your hand. You carefully measured the ingredients, double-checking each one to ensure everything was just right. As you stirred the pot, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and satisfaction at the sight of the fragrant steam rising from the mixture.

You knew your husband deserved the best and were determined to give him just that.

With each passing moment, your anticipation grew as you imagined his face with his bright blue eyes, knowing he would like this delicious meal he craved from his letters.

The savory aroma of your cooking wafted through the entire kitchen as you put the finishing touches on the plates and set them on the dining table.

Everything was ready; all that was left to do was wait for your significant other to arrive.

You walked over to the living room and positioned yourself near the front door, where you could see and hear anyone approaching. You checked the time and noticed that it was getting late. You couldn't help but wonder if he would be later than usual.

As the hours ticked by, the darkness of the night seemed to grow heavier, food forgotten and cold as your anxiety began to mount.

You waited patiently, but worry was evident on your face. You found yourself staring at the clock, hoping to see his arrival soon.

The minutes turned into hours, and your eyes grew heavy as you sat alone, waiting for him to arrive.

Eventually, you couldn't keep your eyes open any longer and decided to rest, thinking that his knock would wake you up.

You were startled by a series of loud knocks on your door. Your eyes fluttered open just in time to catch a glimpse of the bright sunshine peeking through your curtains.

You realized that you had slept through the entire night, and it was morning.

Feeling a sudden rush of excitement, you quickly got out of the couch and dashed towards the door, a wide grin spreading across your face. You were unfazed by the delay. All that mattered was that your husband had finally arrived.

You opened the door, and a tall and muscular man with long black hair partially tied up in a man bun greeted you.

Your smile faded, and your heart sank as you realized he was not who you were hoping for.

"Good morning, I'm looking for Gojo Y/N," he said softly.

"I am Gojo Y/N," you answered, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice. You wondered who this man was and why he was looking for you.

He then started to search his backpack, and you finally took notice of his clothes. It was no doubt that he was in the military, judging by the clothes he wore. He wore a green camouflage shirt and pants and a black tactical backpack slung over one shoulder.

Finally, he pulled out an envelope and a dog tag, which he held out to you. Your heart began to race as you saw the familiar handwriting on the envelope - it was your husband's.

"What?" You took the items with your trembling hands, muttering, "What is this?"

Your mind had some understanding, but your heart refused to believe.

"We were on our way back when a sudden explosion took place. It occurred from the military truck he was riding with. Despite our efforts, we couldn't find survivors or even bodies. It was a devastating experience that left us shaken and heartbroken." He started, eyes looking down as he continued, "I am sorry for your loss -"

"Stop," you interrupted him firmly, lips quivering with emotion, "Please stop."

He looked at you with a mixture of sorrow and concern. "I'm Geto Suguru," he introduced himself, his voice gentle. "Tomorrow, we will be holding a memorial for them, even if we don't have the remains. You can find me there if you go. I'm sure Satoru wouldn't like for you to be alone. He would hate me if that happened." He paused momentarily, adding, "I'll come back and check on you. I'm sorry for your loss."

"Leave," you said, your voice shaking with emotion. You didn't have the strength to look at him, so you turned around and closed the door loudly.

You took heavy steps towards the bedroom, feeling the weight of your grief crushing down on you. As you entered the room, you sank to the ground, the letter still clutched tightly in your hand.

You began to hyperventilate, your chest heaving with sobs as you struggled to catch your breath. You let out a loud, piercing scream, the pain and anger in your heart bursting forth. You threw the letter to the ground and shouted curses into the empty room, your hands gripping your hair tightly as you rocked back and forth.

"You're a liar!" Tears streamed down your face as you shouted, consumed by the overwhelming heartache and anguish that had taken hold of you.

Reading that letter would mean accepting his death, and you refused to do so.

You cried uncontrollably for hours, hugging yourself tightly as if to protect yourself from the harsh reality. Your face was puffy and red from all the tears you shed as you called out for your husband's name, wishing this was all a dream.

But deep down, you knew he wouldn't come back. If only you had known, you would have never gone to the trouble of cooking his favorite meal, fixing his clothes, preparing his bath, or smoothing the side of his bed.

Now, all you have is you, sitting amidst the dark walls of your home and the weight of misery that surrounds you. It's a deep grief that seems to envelop you like a heavy blanket that you can't escape from.

The only sounds you can hear are the sobs escaping your lips and the breath you no longer want to take. You look around, taking in the familiar surroundings that, once filled with hope that he would return as he promised you, are now unattainable and shattered.

A sense of heaviness seems to saturate every corner of the room, leaving you feeling adrift and detached from the world outside.

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, time seemed to slip away unnoticed. Before you knew it, the sun had set, and darkness enveloped the room.

You realized with a start that you had been sitting in the same spot for hours, unmoving, ever since you received the devastating news about your husband.

Your mind was racing with a million thoughts and emotions, and you felt utterly paralyzed by the weight of it all.

As you looked around, you noticed the letter your husband had left on the ground, still untouched. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you were ready to face whatever was written inside. But then you took a deep breath and made up your mind to read it.

Slowly, you reached for the letter, fingers trembling with anticipation and anxiety.

As you unfolded the paper, you couldn't help but feel a sense of dread wash over you as you saw your name first.

My dearest Y/N, If you are reading this letter, it means that I have departed from this world, my wife. But I have not left you. I could never leave you alone, not even for a moment. I would never do that to you. I want you to remember that my love for you will never die, not even in our next life. I will carry it with me always, wherever I go. As a soldier, I am aware of the risks involved in every mission, and I write this letter to you with a heavy heart that I can barely breathe, hoping that you will never have to read this, and if you do, please forgive me. The time we spent together was the best years of my life, and I cherish every memory we created. When you came into my life, heaven had opened its gates for me. Knowing you was the most incredible honor I could ever have. Even if gold or silver is placed on my grave, nothing will ever compare to the love you've given me. I don't have any major regrets in my life, but if there is one thing that I wish I could have done differently, it's that I wasn't able to give you the gift of a family. I know that having children was important to you, and it hurts me deeply that I wasn't able to make that happen for us. I hope you can forgive me for not being able to fulfill this dream of ours. I am scared, Y/N, scared that you will not take care of yourself, scared that you will forget about me. Please promise me that you will care for yourself and live a long and happy life. I do not want you to worry about me or grieve for too long, for I will always be with you, watching over you. Please always remember that I love you more than anything in this world. I promise I'll return to you, and we'll find each other again in our next life. You can count on that. You can rely on that. I could write endless letters, but I don't want to cause you any more pain. Please know I'll always be with you; I will keep my promise. Your husband, Gojo Satoru PS: I know that we will meet again, my wife.

You feel a tremble in your hands as you finish reading the letter your husband wrote to you. Tears flow down your cheeks despite the pain that it causes your eyes, as you have been crying for hours.

You hold his letter tightly against your chest, whimpering your husband's name as you take shallow breaths. The words he wrote to you are etched deeply into your heart and soul, as they are the last you will ever hear from him.

Gojo Satoru had loved you until his very last breath.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, 'Toru," you croak out, sobbing uncontrollably as you whisper apologies like a mantra that could somehow bring your husband back to life.

You regret calling him a liar earlier, and you wish that you nothing but take back those words.

Present

You suddenly opened your eyes, whines leaving your lips and the heaviness in your chest. You were crying.

Confused and disoriented, you looked around the room and noticed Shoko, your colleague resident doctor, sitting beside you. She had a startled expression, but she was doing her best to gently comfort you by patting your back.

You knew you must have been dreaming again, but the details were hazy and blurry. It was strange and unsettling, like you had just awakened from a different reality.

Trying to recall the details of the dream, you realized that it was vivid, but you couldn't remember everything.

"I'm sorry I woke you up, Y/N. You have been crying and trashing in your sleep." Shoko gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "Another weird dream of yours?" She added, giving you a bottled water.

You nod in agreement, feeling a bit dizzy. Shoko was your childhood friend whom you have known since grade school. She had been the person you had confided in about your strange and unsettling dreams for as long as you could remember.

You took a sip of water and tried to gather your thoughts. "This time, he was a soldier, and he, he died," you muttered, barely able to articulate the jumbled images that had been plaguing you. "God, I swear I can see his face and say his name in my dreams, but it's all blurred now."

Shoko nodded sympathetically, her expression one of concern. "This has been going on since we were kids, Y/N," she replied, her voice gentle and soothing. "I remember the last time you cried like that, was when you told me about that white-haired man and how you ran away together because you were supposed to marry another man." She paused for a moment, searching for the right words. "I suggested that you seek help, maybe from a dream interpreter or something."

You take a few moments to regain your composure and try to piece together what happened.

The memories of your past dreams rushed back to you, and you were sure it had been the same man you had never met before.

"I don't really have the time for that right now. I can barely manage to go home and visit my mom," you replied, gripping your hair in frustration. Your best friend then stood up to take off her lab coat.

"I also researched some things about that," Shoko said, trying to reassure you. "It can be your past life or past memory."

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. "I think I'm going insane," you muttered, entirely overwhelmed by the situation.

Your best friend chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah, that's another possibility, too," she said. "Especially since you've never even had a boyfriend at the age of twenty-five. You're a hopeless romantic, my friend."

You couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. You had tried to put yourself out there, going on blind dates and meeting new people, but nothing ever seemed to stick. You just couldn't seem to fall in love, no matter how hard you tried.

And now, with these dreams, you felt even more lost.

"I feel like I'll betray him if I did," you mumbled to yourself, feeling guilty for even considering the possibility of falling in love with someone else. You knew it was irrational, but the thought of being with anyone else didn't sit right with you.

You glanced at Shoko and wished her a quick goodbye, knowing that she was going to take some rest now. You then got up from bed, feeling refreshed after a good six-hour sleep.

You walked over to your assigned drawer and picked out all the necessary items; you went to the bathroom to shower.

The warm water cascaded down your body, washing away all the tiredness and exhaustion from your mind. As you finished your shower, you quickly dried yourself off and got into the fresh set of clothes you had picked earlier. You then took a moment to dry your hair and put some moisturizer on your face to keep it hydrated throughout the day. Lastly, you applied a thin layer of pink lipgloss, ensuring your lips were soft and supple.

After getting ready, you checked your phone and saw a few notifications reminding you of your daily responsibilities.

With a deep breath, you set out to tackle the day head-on, feeling energized and motivated to fulfill all your duties.

You made your way down the hospital's long hallway, and your footsteps echoed through the corridor. You straightened the collar of your white lab coat, feeling the cool fabric against the back of your neck.

Approaching a corner, you saw two nurses chatting quietly to each other behind the information table. Nobara, one of the nurses, noticed you and greeted you with a warm smile.

"Good morning, Dr. Y/N!" she exclaimed, holding a folder towards you. "Here are the files for the patients you'll be doing morning check-ups on today."

You took the folder and smiled back at Nobara, appreciating her enthusiastic attitude. You flipped through the pages, taking note of any potential issues or concerns.

The hospital loudspeaker blared out, "Code Blue, Code Blue! All available doctors, nurses, and medical staff near the emergency room are needed. Code Blue." It was a clear indication that something serious had happened that required the attention of all medical personnel in the vicinity.

Without wasting time, you quickly handed your folder to Nobara, who stashed it away and promptly moved to join you. The two of you rushed to the emergency bay, and as soon as you arrived, your eyes widened in shock as you saw a chaotic scene; medical personnel were running around, attending to the patients.

Stretchers were being hurriedly moved around, and people rushed around the hospital room in a frenzy.

As you tried to take in the situation, a first-year resident named Maki called you, "Dr. Y/N, there has been a shooting incident, and we were instructed to apply first aid as soon as possible." Her voice was filled with urgency, and you knew that time was of the essence.

"Got that, Maki. Nobara, please gather some supplies." You immediately got to work, assessed the situation, and walked towards the patient nearest to you.

You heard Nobara's footsteps approaching; she quickly laid out all the necessary medical supplies beside you. Your focus was solely on the patient before you, and you worked with precision and care as you began cleaning the wounded area. The nurse beside you looked on in amazement as she watched you work.

"Dr. Y/N, I must say, I have never seen someone work as swiftly and diligently as you do," she mumbled in awe, her voice filled with admiration. You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle in response before turning your attention back to your patient.

After skillfully completing the stitching procedure on your patient, you took a minute to ensure everything was perfectly in place.

You then carefully removed your medical gloves, disposing of them safely while relaying crucial information regarding the next steps your patient needs.

"Help! My captain needs help, anyone please!" You suddenly heard a panicked voice calling out. You turned around to see a man with pink hair, dressed in a green military uniform, running towards you with a look of desperation on his face.

He then grabbed your wrists and pulled you towards one of the bed stretchers in the hospital.

You gently removed his hands from your wrists and asked, "What happened? How can I help?" The man was panting heavily, and it took a moment for him to compose himself. He explained, "My captain needs help urgently. He's been injured protecting me, and I think he stopped breathing. I don't know what to do."

You quickened your pace upon hearing his explanation, and as you approached the scene, you caught a glimpse of his captain lying on a stretcher, looking pale and in pain.

But as you moved closer, your eyes widened in shock as you recognized the white-haired man lying on the stretcher, the same man who had been evading your dreams ever since you were little.

Throughout your life, this man has appeared in your dreams, eluding your grasp and leaving you with a sense of longing and curiosity. He has also been a constant presence in your thoughts, occupying your mind as you go about your daily life.

When you were in high school, you found yourself drawing him in the back of your notebooks, trying to capture his essence on paper.

There were times when you even cried over him, missing him despite never having met or even knowing his name.

This man has left an indelible mark on your heart and soul; now he is in front of you, unmoving and not breathing.

"No, no, no." The memories of your last dreams played in your head, making you panic, and your breaths became labored as a surge of panic engulfed your body, causing you to tremble uncontrollably.

Suddenly, Nobara's voice called out your name, breaking you out of your trance. "Dr. Y/N! Are you okay? He's not breathing," she said, noticing your distress, as she sat beside the man.

You immediately sprang into action, shouting orders frantically, "Step back, now! Get the Defibrillator and ECG Machine, immediately. Call for a cardiac doctor, too."

You quickly propped yourself on the man's bed, removing his pillow to flatten his body. Your hands pressed down on his chest as you began giving him chest compressions, counting 30 on your head while taking notice of his face.

You weren't mistaken. It was him. How could you ever forget his face?

Tears welled up in your eyes as you continued with the chest compressions, making sure the steps were precise and accurate. Nobara returned a moment later, quickly followed by one of the cardiac doctors named Utahime, who placed the medical equipment on the body of the white-haired man. But your focus remained on the compressions as you ignored everything else.

Utahime noticed the sweat on your forehead and offered to take over, "Dr. Y/N, I can take over." But you shook your head, "No. Start working with the Defibrillator, please. I'm almost done."

You and Utahime worked together, following the necessary steps to revive the man. The minutes seemed like an eternity as you could barely breathe due to nervousness.

Finally, you heard his heartbeat back in the monitor beside you. You stared at him, your hands shaking lightly as you finally calmed down.

One medical staff wheeled the captain into one of the rooms, and Utahime turned to you, "Do you know him? Don't worry; he is in good hands. We'll do everything we can to help. Everything is under control now. You can take a rest."

You fulfilled your other responsibilities, your mind remained preoccupied with thoughts of the white-haired man you had encountered. Despite the passage of time, he continued to linger in your thoughts. His face kept flashing in your eyes.

Throughout the day, Utahime informed you about the man's condition, providing updates on his progress as he received medical attention.

You expressed your gratitude to her for keeping you in the loop, and she promised to let you know as soon as he woke up from his unconscious state.

"Y/N," you were startled by Shoko's arrival, "You haven't eaten, have you? I heard you helped with the emergency earlier, too. Come on, let's eat." She said.

You nodded wordlessly, following your friend to the cafeteria. As she ordered, Shoko noticed that your eyes were fixed on the ground, and you kept sighing. Sensing that something was troubling you, she asked, "What's wrong? Tell me."

You hesitated at first, not knowing how to convey your thoughts. You finally took another deep breath and said, "I don't know if you'll believe me, but I met him earlier." You sighed, feeling a heavy weight in your chest as memories of him flooded again in your mind.

Shoko looked at you quizzically and asked, "Who?" You looked back at her, not knowing how to answer when you didn't even know the man's name. It took a few minutes for her to understand, but when she did, she let out a loud screech of shock and shouted your name. "What? What's his name? Where is he? What happened!?" she asked, her hands shaking your shoulders.

Shoko's expression softened as she saw the tears welling up in your eyes. "Oh, I see," she said empathetically. "How can you be sure that it's him? What are your plans, honey?"

"It's him, Shoko," you said, feeling your voice shake a little. "I can't believe that I even forgot his face. But I don't know. I feel like I should not approach him at all. I would sound like an insane person if I ever did."

She sighed and said, "Who said you need to tell him immediately? You can just drop by and say hello. Let fate play out on its own, Y/N. You don't need to do anything about it."

You smiled at your best friend, grateful for her advice and carefree attitude that you needed. You spent the rest of the meal together, describing him to her and enjoying each other's company.

You were bidding farewell to Shoko outside the hospital cafeteria when she received an urgent call for her assistance in surgery.

You watched her quickly approach the operating room while you headed toward the elevator to check on one of your patients. As you approached the nurses' station, you noticed a familiar figure - a man with distinctive pink hair, eyes scanning the area intently as if searching for someone specific.

He was the pink-haired boy who asked for your help. As you approached him, you noticed his anxious expression and asked, "Sir, is everything okay?"

He seemed taken aback momentarily before gathering himself and responding, "Oh, there you are, Miss Doctor! I was looking for you." He scratched his head awkwardly and continued, "I just want to thank you personally for saving my captain. We owe it all to you." He bowed deeply, his gratitude palpable.

You smiled warmly at him and patted his shoulders when he stood straight again. "Thank you for acting so quickly. Your help made it possible for us to save him."

The boy beamed, a light flush rising in his cheeks. "Thank you again, Dr. He's very important to us all," he said earnestly.

You were intrigued by his words and asked him to elaborate. "Really?"

The boy looked surprised by your question and answered, "Yes. Tell me anything you want, and we'll try to do it for you in return."

"Well, do you mind telling me his name?" you asked shyly, your eyes avoiding his gaze as you gripped your coat.

"Huh? Um, yeah, he's our captain, Gojo Satoru," the boy replied, looking at you curiously.

Gojo Satoru.

When he spoke the name, you felt a jolt of recognition run through you. It was a name you had never heard before, but you couldn't quite place it where. It felt familiar as if you had muttered that name countless times before.

"Does, does he have blue eyes?" Your voice was barely above a whisper as you struggled to control your emotions.

The man across from you tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing with curiosity. "Yes," he finally answered, his tone growing more puzzled by the second. "Why do you ask?"

Feeling your heart thump back in your chest, you replied quickly, "Just, just because. I better be going now. I have some work to do." You turned around to start walking away, your mind racing about what could happen if you stayed.

However, before you could get too far, the young boy's voice cut through the silence. "Doctor! Once he wakes up, please pay us a visit! So he can thank you too in person." You kept walking, answering him in silence.

You had faced challenging surgeries and worked consecutive shifts in the hospital, but the thought of seeing him again in his awakened state sent shivers down your spine. You didn't know if you had the strength to face him.

It was as if you weren't wishing to meet him throughout your life, wondering if he would love you as he did in your dreams.

The day ended, and you left your workplace and walked home to your apartment, which was located nearby. You were looking forward to your rest day, scheduled for tomorrow.

Utahime texted you in the morning to inform you that Gojo Satoru had finally woken up, letting you know there would be no complications.

You spent the day resting, finding it difficult to sleep as your thoughts kept returning to the white-haired man.

You were scared that he might not even spare you a second glance, and you felt a sense of helplessness as you wondered about the possibility of him being discharged from the hospital quickly.

This could mean you would lose the chance to meet him again and be left in the dark about his whereabouts.

Despite your fears, you found yourself walking back to the hospital in the afternoon, unable to resist the urge to catch a glimpse of him, even if he was far away.

You felt a mix of emotions - hope, fear, and uncertainty - as you tried to calm your nerves and prepare yourself for whatever lay ahead.

Let fate play out on its own, Y/N.

You arrived at the hospital, and friendly staff greeted you warmly when they saw you. You explained that you were just there to retrieve something you had forgotten from the doctor's resting quarters.

Your nerves didn't stop you from walking on autopilot, your feet carrying you toward the private room where he was supposedly resting.

You longed to see his face, hear his voice, and just to see him again.

When you approached the room, you noticed the door was slightly ajar, and you could hear laughter and voices coming from within.

You were about to leave when a familiar voice called out your name, and you turned to see a pink-haired boy beaming at you. He was holding a brown bag filled with snacks, and a dark-haired boy stood beside him, nodding at you in acknowledgment.

"Miss doctor!" the boy exclaimed. "Did you come to visit us? He's awake now, too."

"I just happened to be passing by, dear. I'm sorry to disturb you," you replied, trying to keep your voice calm.

You turned your gaze back to the private room and noticed the door was now open wide, and the people inside had heard your conversation. Your eyes widened as you finally saw Gojo Satoru, the man you had been thinking about all day.

He looked at you with his cerulean blue eyes, witnessing your conversation with the pink-haired boy; his white hair was slightly unkempt, and his skin glowing as the sun reflected off it.

His head was slightly tilted as he inspected your face, and he looked ethereal.

You were so lost in his gaze that your background blurred, and it was as if the two of you were in your own little world. It took some time before he finally spoke out, "Yuuji."

You broke the staring contest you had with him and felt a rush of blood to your chest as you avoided his gaze. "Come on, let me introduce you," Yuuji said, holding your elbow and guiding you into the hospital room.

As you walked into the room, you noticed that the people with whom Gojo Satoru was laughing earlier excused themselves before you came in. You cleared your throat awkwardly and noticed that Satoru was still looking at you with curiosity in his eyes.

"Captain! This is the doctor I told you about. Be nice, she's your savior!" Yuuji exclaimed while laughing. He put down the brown bag he was holding on the nearby table.

Satoru was surprised and said, "Hello. Nice to meet you, and thank you for everything, Doctor." He gave you a small smile, grateful as his eyes memorized your face.

"It's good to see you up," you mentioned while returning a small smile. You fiddled with your fingers as your heartbeat became louder in your chest, finding it hard to keep eye contact with him.

"Megumi and I have been looking for you, Miss Doctor, since the captain woke up," Yuuji interjected, mentioning the black-haired boy beside him, whom you realized was Megumi.

"It's actually my day off every Sunday. I just needed to stop by to get some things," you countered, explaining your civilian clothes. "And you can call me Dr. Y/N; just Y/N is fine, too. Whichever you prefer."

The pink-haired boy laughed, and a blush crept on his cheeks as he told the efforts Megumi and he made to find you. His stories made you laugh, especially when you learned that Nobara scolded them for accidentally entering the nurses' resting room.

"We aren't hogging you, are we?" Satoru's voice cut you off, and he added, "Since it's your rest day, you should be resting. I apologize if Yuuji disturbed you." His stare observed your reaction.

"Oh no, not at all; I'm about to leave anyway." You bowed, embarrassed.

"Thank you again, Dr. Y/N. Let me know if I can do anything for you." He softly spoke, giving you another sweet smile.

"You can return the favor by not letting me see you in that state again, Satoru." To your surprise, he seemed to be taken aback when you mentioned his name, and you noticed his eyes widen and mouth agape lightly as he watched your face.

Yuuji and Megumi stood frozen at the interaction. It was their first time seeing their captain be speechless as he was the one to give snide remarks. But now, they were surprised to see the stoic man seem enchanted when you mentioned his name.

You were the first to break eye contact, bidding farewell as you quickly stepped out of the room without glancing back.

Walking into the hallway of the hospital, you found your eyes become wet with tears; spilling out of your eyes without your consent. Sobs that you were stopping made your lips quiver.

Your hands balled into fists with sadness and frustration, preventing yourself to have a mental break down out in the public space.

You have faced countless uphill battles during your life, ranging from witnessing some of the most gruesome injuries to undergoing the most complex surgical procedures.

Despite all of the challenges you have encountered, you have never before felt as vulnerable as you do now.

You thought it was the end. You would never see him again. When you mentioned his name, he seemed taken aback, and you thought he might see you as a creep that snoops around patient records. You were not even his attending doctor. You were not his friend, not his girl, not his betrothed, not his wife.

You are not the girl he loved timeless in different timelines, like what your dreams showed you.

You were just a mere doctor who happened to be near when his heart stopped, doing what's expected to treat patients. You are a stranger to him.

Standing inside the empty elevator, the silence seemed to amplify the weight of your emotions. The sobs that have been welling up inside you break free, echoing off the walls of the elevator and filling the air with your anguish.

You felt alone and overwhelmed; the moment's solitude only added to your desolation.

The feeling of being trapped in the small metal box only heightened your anxiety, and you longed for the doors to open and release you from the suffocating confines of the elevator.

It was a painful reminder that sometimes, no matter how much you prayed for something, it's just not meant to be.

You couldn't help feeling a void in your chest as you stepped out, wiping your tears with the sleeves of your clothes, knowing that life is not a fairytale, and dreams will remain just that - dreams.

One week after

In the aftermath of your encounter with Gojo Satoru, you decided to avoid him at all costs and made sure to steer clear of his designated room in the hospital.

Your days quickly became repetitive and monotonous as you focused on your hospital duties and tried to keep your distance from him.

One day, as you were walking outside the cafeteria, you bumped into Yuuji, who greeted you warmly and tried to strike up a conversation. However, you were quick to end it, explaining that you had a lot of tasks to do.

You didn't want to risk getting too close to anyone close to him.

The vivid dreams that had been a constant presence in your life disappeared since your encounter with Gojo Satoru. Although you had once wished for them to stop, they had become a source of comfort and solace for you in your darkest nights, reminding you that someone out there might have loved you in your past lives.

The thought of never having a chance to say goodbye to those dreams was haunting, and you found yourself grieving for them.

It was like letting go of a cherished friend without being able to say goodbye.

Sharing your recent encounter with your best friend, Shoko, she enveloped you in a warm and tight embrace that made you feel safe and secure. Her brown hair tickled your face as she whispered reassuringly that she was always there for you, no matter what. The feeling of her support and care lifted a weight off your shoulders.

Your final shift of the week ended; all you wanted to do was go home, slip into something comfortable, and unwind in the peace and quiet of your own space.

You politely declined Shoko's invitation to hit the town for some drinks, letting her know you needed time alone to gather your thoughts and reflect on the week that had just passed.

"I'm going home now, see you." You bid goodbye to your Nobara, who waved back at you with a happy smile.

"Get some rest, Dr. Y/N!" Nobara hollered after you, making you chuckle as you walked toward the elevator.

As you walked out of the hospital, you were welcomed by a breathtaking sunrise, illuminating the sky with a blend of warm oranges and pinks. The sun gradually creed up on the horizon, casting a soft, golden light on everything it touched. As the wind caressed their leaves, the gentle sway of the trees caught your eye, creating a soothing rustling sound.

The pavement was bathed in a warm, amber light, and it radiated a positive energy that spread throughout your body, leaving you feeling content and serene.

Suddenly, something caught your attention, and you looked up to find yourself across none other than Gojo Satoru himself.

He was leaning casually against a brand new-looking 2022 Cadillac as he donned a luxurious black polo shirt and slacks that accentuated his impressive physique.

His eyes met yours with relief, making it seem like he had been waiting for you.

The scene felt surreal, making you squint your eyes to ensure you weren't imagining things.

You feel your pulse quicken at the sight of him approaching. Every step he took echoed in your ears, drowning out the noise of the crowd around you. Your hands instinctively clenched as you braced yourself for his arrival, nervous as you waited for him.

He stood before you, looking hesitant and unsure of himself. "Dr. Y/N," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please tell me if I'm overstepping or saying too much."

His sudden appearance still perplexed you, and you couldn't grasp what was happening. "Huh?" You answered, hoping to get some clarity.

He took a deep breath and continued, "I'm sorry if this comes out too weird, but I just wanted to offer to drive you home, or maybe we could grab dinner together. As, um, as a thank you." You saw the hope in his eyes as he spoke.

Seeing a military intelligence captain being so nervous in front of you was pretty surprising. Your presence seemed to have impacted them, leaving you wondering about the cause of their nervousness.

"You don't really need to do that," you said, but you immediately regretted your words as his shoulders slumped in defeat. "But I haven't eaten yet, so I find it hard to say no," you continued, giving in to your emotions and favor towards him.

As you spoke, you noticed his eyes widen slightly at your words. His reaction reminded you of one of your dreams, where his teenage self would throw his head back in laughter at your banters. However, you quickly snapped out of your reverie when he called out to you, leading you to his car.

You followed him closely; he opened the passenger door with a gentle hand and helped you settle inside. You fastened your seatbelt while watching him get inside, his hands on the wheel as he started driving.

"What would you like to eat, Dr. Y/N?" he asked, turning his head slightly to face you.

"Anything is fine, and you can just call me Y/N," you replied politely.

"Alright, Y/N," he said, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. Hearing your name from his lips made your heartburn, making you remember the familiar voice of his name in your dreams. You turned your head to face the windows, feeling your eyes moisten.

You had heard his voice in your dreams before, and it was a surreal feeling to listen to it now.

"Have you been waiting for me outside?" you asked, still looking out the window.

"Yes, I remembered last time that you told me every week you have Sunday as your rest day, so I waited," he replied as he continued to drive.

"Waited?" you asked, intrigued now. You finally glanced at him with curiosity in your eyes. "For how long?"

"Yeah. For 4 hours. Since I was not sure what time you'll be out," he chuckled, tapping his fingers nervously at the steering wheel.

"What? You could've asked for me. That's too long; I'm sure you have other things to do," you said, feeling guilty for keeping him waiting.

"I didn't want to disturb you, and don't worry because I have requested a leave today, too," he said reassuringly. He stared back at you with a warm smile, his blue eyes shining like the ocean on a sunny day.

You were fully aware of his striking blue eyes, having seen them for the first time when he woke up in the hospital. But every time you looked into them, you couldn't help but feel a rush of admiration for their pure beauty. You two had been gazing at each other for a while, lost in thought and captivated by each other's presence.

Suddenly, a car horn blared behind you, causing both of you to startle. Satoru cursed under his breath and accelerated, seeing the traffic signal turn green. "Shit, sorry."

Stepping into the restaurant, you were immediately drawn to the opulent decor surrounding you. The place was adorned with intricate details that exuded elegance and luxury.

Satoru gave you a warm smile and guided you to your table with his big, gentle hands resting on the small of your back.

You both sat down to eat, the aroma of the food wafting around you; you engaged in light conversation, exchanging short stories here and there. Satoru spoke fondly of his subordinates, sharing anecdotes that painted a picture of a kind, respectful leader who genuinely cared about the people he worked with.

You listened to him speak, and you admired him for his qualities and how he treated his team with the utmost fondness and care. It was evident he was a good person, just like the one you had seen in your dreams.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked, offering a drink.

"Yes, I'll just take a glass or two," you replied, smiling at him as you accepted the glass and sipped the expensive-tasting wine. You watched him drink his wine, too, his eyes fixed on you, making you blush.

"Y/N," he began, "I wanted to apologize for my behavior last time. I fear I may have come off rude by not speaking much and being surprised when you called me by my name. Yuuji mentioned that he told you my name, so I'm sorry if I was taken aback." His eyes seemed to soften as he spoke.

"Okay," you shyly replied, feeling like a teenager again. He took a sip of his wine, then looked up at you with a serious expression.

"To be honest, I've wanted to talk to you for a while now," he said. "Ever since I was a child, there's been this girl that I've been dreaming about. I can't recall much about her features, but one thing that has always stayed with me is the vivid memory of her eyes. They were the most beautiful and expressive eyes I had ever seen. It broke my heart whenever I saw tears streaming down her face in my dreams. I know it may sound strange, but I was mesmerized the first time I saw you because you have the same eyes as the girl in my dreams."

As you stood there listening to him, your heart skipped a beat, and your breath became shallow. His words were like a punch to the gut, "And after I met you, whenever I think of that girl in my dreams, all I keep seeing is your face instead." You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks, and your palms started sweating.

"Tell me," you shakily said, "Tell me one of your dreams."

Satoru stared at you, joining his hands on the table as he leaned in. "There are many of them; it's like different versions of myself, but there was this one time that I was a soldier, and--"

"And you died in the war," you cut him off, continuing, "And you left a letter to your wife, apologizing for leaving her, not giving her kids, and saying that you'll meet again."

As you locked eyes with him, you noticed a look of bewilderment on his face reflected in your expression. Both of you were left speechless, lost in contemplation, as you realized your dreams had been intertwined.

"I get them too, Satoru. I see those same dreams every day, but I can never remember your name for some reason. Your face becomes a blur every time I wake up, and it's heart-wrenching," you said, your voice shaking as tears streamed down your face. You instinctively wrapped your hands around yourself, seeking comfort from your embrace.

Satoru looked at you; his heart tightened with emotion as he observed the tears streaming down your face.

At that moment, he realized that his heart still belonged to you, and all his doubts and apprehensions vanished into thin air, realizing that you, just like him, were deeply invested in your shared dreams of the past.

"I could tell it was you from the moment I looked at you, but I wasn't sure if you would know me. It's funny, a year ago, if someone had told me that you were real, I wouldn't have believed them," you said with a bitter chuckle. Your head hung low, avoiding eye contact with him. "Despite that, I always held onto the hope that we would find each other again. I knew you would still turn my head like you did all lives ago."

You rested your hands on the smooth surface of the table. Satoru's hands moved towards you without a second thought. They were warm and welcoming, fitting yours perfectly as if they were meant to be there.

His voice was gentle as he said, "Let's get you home, sweet girl."

Satoru gently wiped your tears away with his thumb, his touch warm and reassuring. He then helped you into the car, carefully protecting your head as you got in. He was extremely careful and attentive towards you, ensuring you were comfortable and safe.

Once settled in your seat, Satoru made sure your seatbelt was fastened correctly. His hands moved precisely, checking and adjusting until he was satisfied that everything was secure.

"Can you tell me your address and phone number?" he asked softly, his hands resting gently on your thigh.

Satoru began to drive, clasping your hands in his, taking a different route than usual. Knowing that he had your best interests at heart, you didn't question it. You trusted him implicitly, knowing you were safe with him above all else.

The car gradually slowed down and finally came to a halt. You gazed out the window and saw a vast, open field that immediately caught your eye.

The scene was so picturesque - the colorful flowers on the sides and the lush green grass in the center welcomed you warmly. And as you tilted your head toward the sky, the countless stars shining down upon you took your breath away, filling your heart with a sense of wonder and awe.

As you both sat down, the silence was filled with the gentle rustling of the leaves and the twinkle of the stars above. The cool breeze brushed against your skin as you gazed up at the sky, admiring the constellations.

After a few minutes, you felt a soft touch on your hand and turned to see him looking at you with a gentle smile.

Without a word, he reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. "I've never been in a relationship before," he whispered, his eyes never leaving yours, "Because I was waiting for you, Y/N."

You felt your heart swell with emotion, and a soft smile spread across your lips as you leaned towards him. Wrapping your arms around him, you inhaled the scent of his cologne mixed with his natural musk, feeling the warmth of his embrace as he pulled you closer.

He kissed the top of your head, and you could feel the gentle movement of his lips against your hair. It was a moment of pure bliss and contentment, a feeling that words could not describe.

You spent the moment getting to know each other, from the simplest things like birthdays and favorite foods to the grander things like your hopes, dreams, and beliefs.

It was like two lost souls finally finding their way back to each other, and you felt yourself falling deeper in love with him with each passing moment.

Satoru drove you back to your apartment, chatting and laughing with you. When you arrived at your doorstep, he didn't just drop you off and leave - instead, he walked you towards your door, patting your head affectionately as he said, "I'll text you as soon as I get home. And let's schedule our next date soon, okay?"

You laughed at his eagerness, teasing him, "Date? Have you even asked my permission if it's alright to court me?"

"I'm sure we all know you have been my wife," he teased, flashing his charming smile. "And I'm sure you won't resist my handsome face." His lighthearted comment made you double over in laughter.

Finally, it was time to say goodbye. You closed the door, and your smile slowly faded away. You had expected him to at least kiss you - even a peck on the cheek would have sufficed - but he didn't.

Feeling a bit disappointed, you walked towards your living room, wondering what could have you done wrong. However, your thoughts were interrupted when you suddenly heard your doorbell ring.

Your heart skipped a beat as you turned around and walked back to the door, peering nervously through the peephole. To your surprise, you saw Satoru standing outside, looking just as nervous as you felt.

Opening the door, you were surprised when he grabbed your face without hesitation, lowering his head and pressing his lips against yours. Your arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer still as his tongue darts out to gently sweep across your bottom lip, seeking entry.

With a gentle moan, you open up for him, allowing your tongues to dance in a passionate embrace. He deepens the kiss, using his free hand to tangle his fingers gently into your hair, holding you firmly in place.

He continued to explore every corner of your mouth, savoring the unique flavor that is uniquely yours. You break away from the kiss to catch your breath, only to see his eyes hooded as he stares at you with admiration.

Satoru pulled you into his warm embrace, whispering, "I'll see you soon, my wife."

The endearment immediately made your eyes well up with tears, as it was his favorite in your past life. You held onto him, cherishing the moment.

Eventually, he released you, giving you one last peck on your lips before walking away towards his car. You watched as he approached the driver's seat and waved back at you happily.

"See you soon!" you called out, trying to keep your voice from trembling. Satoru winked at you, making your heart skip a beat.

The memories of your past lives flooded your mind as you watched him drive away, and you were grateful for the chance to start anew. The journey ahead was uncertain, but you were ready to face it together with Gojo Satoru by your side.

Deep down, you knew you were ready to spend this lifetime with him.

Note: Writing this made me cry and emotional, and I hope you liked it. Soldier/Captain Gojo makes my brain melt.

[darkfictionjude]

They say that small towns hide the darkest secrets. At least that’s what your mother always said about this one. You thought she meant how Father Simmons has a well-known drinking problem, how Mrs. Gladstone’s son looks more like his uncle than his father or that the mayor has been in power for 15 years because of voting fraud. Things everyone knows. Human Things.

But now as partially eaten bodies have been left in alarmingly rates all over this small town the world has no record of, you now know she meant something else.

Play as peculiar and disturbed individual surnamed Crown after the very town your ancestor founded, returning after a traumatic event two years prior that landed you in a psychiatric hospital. As your comeback coincides with a rapid increase of disappearances you find yourself embroiled in a town conspiracy, a past that’s more alive than ever and the ever shifting self interested motives of those who claim to be your allies.

Who can you trust? What’s the truth behind your family? What are things that you see in the dark?

Sometimes it’s hard to tell what shapes monsters come in.

Customize your MC from looks to gender

Reveal your sister’s disappearance

Rely on a group of complimentary polar opposites to find out the mystery and save your life

Befriend or romance a choice of three from enemies to lovers, childhood friends or an eternal admirer

Rating: 18+

Crown - Playlist

You. A person with some personal issues, some family issues and some murder issues.

Imre Duran - Playlist

Quintessential good-boy-next-door. The most most-liked teenager in town. As son of the mayor and pageant queen, Imre has an image cultivated by him and maintained through his status which is why his back door activities are his cherished secrets. He is rather eager to help you… isn’t he?

Nia Mir - Playlist

In the very real and present high school hierarchy Nia would be one of the nobles. As a wannabe doctor with a loathed father and an absent mother her dream is to leave behind this backwater town and all it’s weird phenomena that she doesn’t care to know more of. She liked you, once.

Lorcan Stark - Playlist

Every town needs its bad boy and so Lorcan has aimed to be as every bit worthy of that title. The shunned son of a murderer and his victim, he is not really thought of as having a future beyond prison and petty crime especially in a town like this. You don’t remember a time when he didn’t hate you.

Salvatore Crown

Your brother. The heir to whatever fortune your family has left and the only one of the family who seems to like you.

Orla Crown - Playlist

Your sister. No one ever knew what she thinking, a closed box full of unknowns. You knew she kept things, especially from you.

Mayor Duran

Seems like every other politician. Oddly enough no one ever really sees him, an entity watching over the town.

Mother

She never acted like one to any of her children. She’s never sober anymore.

Mrs. Mir

Disappeared years ago without a trance. No one remembers her first name. Was thought to have been clinically insane.

Demo (updated 3/26) | Spotify | Patreon

Prologue, episodes 1, 2, 3

[frogchiro]

I hear it is time to spread the word of our lord and savior Tachanka? 👀

link: (https://rainbowsix.fandom.com/wiki/Tachanka_(Siege) Context of link: Just the wiki page of R6 operator Tachanka.

But I wanna highlight a few things!!!

Alexsandr Senaviev was born on November 3rd in Leningrad, Russia to a military family. At the age of eighteen, Senaviev was conscripted into military service just as the Soviet Union was ending its operations in Afghanistan. Upon the dissolution of his draft, Senaviev opted to enlist full time. He was part of the wrestling league, where his formidable frame and match strategy earned him accolades. 

Alexsandr Senaviev has a boisterous sense of humor with a booming laugh. He can be quite blunt, but without the intent to offend

Senaviev's younger sister is a doctor and our discussion had barely started when he was showing me pictures of her in her doctor's smock, along with a dozen more photos of his nieces and nephews and his own kids. […] He and his sister grew up in a strict household without many things, which is why he makes a great effort to enjoy life. They both make sure that their kids are loved and raised with laughter. At the same time, he doesn't like to buy or accumulate physical objects and emphasizes this with his children, much to their consternation. I suspect that's also partly to do with his divorce. […]

(Also the main reason why we refer to Tachanka as 'lord'/godly is mainly 'cause his weapons/loadout is shit.)

Ladies and gentlemen, we got ourselves a REAL LIFE DILF <33

From what I gathered on his wiki he has at least two children, one of them a son and an ex-wife! Also him being an ex wrestler because of his size and strength...

Imagine being a babysitter for his kids, a 6 year old boy and a sweet 3 year old girl who absolutely adore their nanny who spends the majority of their time with them since their father is still a busy man and their mother is using her newfound freedom as a divorced woman so you're babysitting the little ones for a hefty sum from their dad whenever you're free from college.

But you have to admit, while the kids are literal angels and a delight to babysit, they nor the money are the sole reason for you being so eager to babysit and their father, Alexsandr, played a huge part in it too.

He was so large and heavily build, no doubt from his years in the military but his charming, boisterous attitude combined with his broad, toothy grin that almost seemed boyish on his mature face was what really made you fall for him :(( Whenever the kids were playing or napping, you two had a little time with each other to just talk and spend time together, get to know each other better because 'Let's not make this one of those stick-in-the-ass rigid employer-employee relationships, yes?' as Alexsandr put it himself.

The connection between you deepened but you were still so shy under his clear blue eyes :(( You couldn't possibly do the first move, what if he doesn't return your feelings? He's much older than you, he has a military career, two kids and a divorce, surely he wouldn't ever be interested in someone like you...right?

Ofc little did you know that Alexsandr was tugging his lengthy, heavy cock every night after sending you off with a thick wad of cash and a loud, happy thank you for taking care of his kids, though in reality he was everything but happy :(( Like it or not but the burly male fell for you, the most cliche thing on earth, the young, sweet babysitter that visited him home almost every day to care for his little ones with a gentle smile towards them and him too, such a stark contrast from his ex wife...

He was cumming every night multiple times to the thought of you right here beside him, in his bed, all nice and naked, sated and warm after a night of passionate love making. He came on his hairy tummy with a displeased growl, once the post nut clarity set in and realized that he wasted so much precious seed when it could be inside you >:(

Alexsandr knew he had to have you, had to confess to you how he felt but didn't know how; his loud, charismatic attitude failing him for the first time in years but these thoughts were for the time being pushed back once again to the back of his mind. He could think of a better solution on how to win you over once he wasn't so terribly horny, testosterone clouding his mind as his heavy cock jumped to life once again, thick potent sperm oozing from his swollen tip and Alexsandr could only think about how well he could breed you, he was a real stud despite his age y'know? Plus he always wanted another kid anyway <33

[howtofightwrite]

Every movie makes it look so easy to snap someone's neck by twisting their head really fast and hard, and it's used all the time, but it can't possibly be that easy or effective can it? It's not like every Joe Schmoe on the street can start going around snapping necks can they? They also love to have people snap necks between their thighs, I imagine that's even harder and less likely to work.

So, breaking someone's neck with your bare hands basicallyisn't a thing. Actually breaking your neck doesn't take a lot of force, but the whole neck snap thing takes an absolutely comical amount of force to work, and even if it did, it wouldn't necessarily be lethal. The idea is that it severs the spinal column or the brain stem, but in practice, all you'd be able to do is abuse some dense muscles and ligatures.

This is a real risk in auto accidents, particularly if the victim isn't properly belted, but the version you see in films is pure fiction.

Choking someone out is a lot more viable. This can either come from asphyxiation, or from obstructing blood flow to the brain. The former is slow, and is likely to cause the victim to panic while they slowly lose consciousness. The latter (sometimes called a blood choke, or triangle choke) can quickly lead to death, as you starve the brain of oxygen by cutting it off after it's been absorbed by the body. You do sometimes see these in film, though the amount of time needed to subdue someone is hilariously abbreviated. If you're just choking someone, that will take minutes before they'll lose consciousness, and they're going to seriously start to freak out once they realize they can't breath. Blood chokes, as mentioned earlier, are faster, but you're still looking at a long time in a fight.

Neck snapping with the thighs is about as plausible as the neck twist. Choking someone out with the thighs is slightly more credible. Legs can be used in submission holds while grappling. But, if we're being honest, I think we all know that this isn't used because it's realistic, it's the sex appeal. Without speaking from personal experience, I suspect thigh chokes are harder to get out of, simply because your legs are significantly stronger than your arms, but I'm speculating.

Also, importantly, suffering a broken neck isn't (usually) going to be immediately lethal. As mentioned earlier, unless the spinal chord is severed or the brain stem is damaged, they'll survive. This may result in a life altering injury, but it's not going to be an, “oh, they're instantly, and quietly, dead.”

I remember running across a news report, when we last covered this, where a couple of teens had decided to kill someone by snapping their neck. The victim ended up with some soreness in their neck, and the teens went away for attempted murder. Moral of the story, this doesn't work.

-Starke

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[vampykween]

Is it terrible that I want to see more of toxic husband ghost?? 🙈🙈🙈 Not divorced, but maybe just watching his wife with their kids, or coming home to a warm meal, or seeing her in the bath relaxing and realizing he has a nice life, he just hasn't let himself be open to it 🙈🙈🙈🙈

tw: vague but brief mentions of miscarriage absolutely no judgment anon we all like what we like! i will give you a taste of simon and reader before things went to shit hehe ☻ this turned out way sadder than i planned i'm so sorry omg i just cant help it, it's what i do best.

you couldn't believe what you were seeing, tears welled in your eyes as you scanned over the pregnancy tests lined up on your bathroom counter. pregnant. two stark lines visible on each one. you momentarily considered keeping the news to yourself, but you just couldn't wait to tell your husband. you yell out for him from your spot in the bathroom, too in shock to leave; as if they'll suddenly disappear if you glance away from them even for just a moment. the thundering sound of your husband rushing up the stairs into your bedroom breaks you from your reverie, and when he finds you in the bathroom all you do is turn to him and smile widely.

simon steps slowly towards you, his eyes flitting rapidly between your face and the tests on the counter. "baby..." like a dam breaking, tears stream down your face as simon pulls you into his arms. "is this real, like really real this time?" the older man's question pricks at the bubble of joy in your chest. you’re sure he meant no harm with his question, but you're brought back into your reality. you two couldn't get your hopes up again, at least not too much.

"it's real si, i swear. am i stupid for being so happy? i know i should wait until we go to the doctor and have foolproof confirmation, but-"

your husband trails a hand to your jaw and tips your head so you're looking up at him. "you're not stupid for being happy, 'specially not over this. after all the heartbreak we've experienced, we deserve a little happiness."you know he's right, but you're not sure if you can handle waking up in the middle of the night writhing in pain, only to come back home with a piece of you missing. the calloused pad of simon's finger smooths over the wrinkle between your eyebrows.

"whatever happens, we'll survive it because we have each other.

~

"i cant believe this little blob is our baby," you laugh out with a shine of tears in your eyes. the two of you are walking back to the car after your first ultrasound appointment and it feels like everything is falling beautifully in place. you let out an embarrassingly loud squeal as simon picks you up and spins you around gleefully. when he finally puts you down, he pulls you into his chest and nuzzles his head into your hair.

"i can't believe i get to have this life with you, baby. i am an irredeemable man and probably don't deserve you or our baby, but i promise i'll do everything to prove that i do."

looking back on that fateful day, you understand why they say to believe a man when he says he doesn't deserve you because they will always prove that they don't.

[fluffyprettykitty]

Hi! For the summer sleepover, can I request Tony Stark + period sex? Maybe the reader is having terrible cramps and Tony tries to help distract them and ease the pain.

pairing: college!tony stark x female reader

warnings: period sex, cramps, fingering, penetration, swearing.

words: 700

a/n: unedited as per usual :P got many asks for my sleepover and I will get to them all no worries &lt;3

"Fuck!"

You cry out and wrap yourself up under your duvet. First-day period cramps were the worst and you had the absolute misfortune of starting it in the middle of the lecture. You tried to power through it but the pain got terrible and you managed to leave and come up to your dorm to clean yourself and make yourself comfortable.

A knock is heard at your door and you only groan in frustration.

"It's me." Tony's voice is distinctly heard. You hadn't been dating a long time so you were unsure if you wanted to burden him.

"I'm sick, I'll talk to you later." You shouted and shut your eyes, then the gentle opening of the door and light coming at you surprised you. Yet of course Tony wouldn't just go away.

"I know what you're going through." He nods his head and comes closer. "Well not know know, I just thought that the dates add up, plus you were frantically wrapping your jacket around your waist."

"Tony, I'll be fine." You looked at him and smiled at his concern. "But really it will p-" A sharp pain came through you shutting you up.

"Which is why I got a plan."

"Shit." You cried wrapping your hands around your belly.

"And I know you're gonna enjoy it. An experiment of sorts for scientific reasons."

"You're not using a random device you just came up with."

"No, no machines. Just..." He beams and points at himself. "Just relax, sit back for me." You obliged, thinking he'd probably start massaging you and that's what he did at first starting from your stomach, to your belly, the lower he got the less constructed you felt.

He kept up his movements for a while until he slipped his hands under your pants, you groaned a little but he only shushed you back. Then he started pressing his whole palm over your lower stomache, moving it down to your center and up again. A different kind of fire was building up inside you and you know exactly what he wanted to do.

"Tony." You warned him and he chucked. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I've studied very well and now I'm ready to take action."

Using his two fingers together he reaches underneath your period panties and starts massaging your pussylips. Slowly and sensually in a rhythm that almost makes your pain disappear. You place a hand on his hand and moan when his thumb brushes your clit.

"Tony." You repeat his name again as your hips are almost pushing against his fingers.

"You're right, you need the.." He chuckles as he comes close to your face. "The real pain reliever." You look at him confused and he quickly withdraws his fingers making you gasp for air.

"Give me one second, the doctor will be with you shortly." He fumbled with clothes a little, only to get up and push his pants down, revealing his erect cock standing firm against his stomache. "You know I rush to get up in the mornings, no underwear." He mumbles as he gently pushes your body again behind and pushing your pants further down.

"I've never done this like this before." You whispered almost embarrassed.

"Damn, baby girl, I can't get any harder." Tony mused as his cock twitched. "Gotta perform excellently for my favourite girl."

With a bit of adjusting himself over you, getting you as naked as he liked, making sure none of his body weight could get on you, he positioned himself ready to enter you. "If you hurt at any point, just tell me and I'll stop alright?"

He entered you slowly, giving you time to adjust to this unique feeling. He kept his movements slow and to the point as he layed a little against the wall to achieve a little sideway position. This gave him the ability to use his finger on you, massaging your clit in time with his slow movements, which all worked beautifully on you.

By the time Tony let you go, you had already orgasmed three times and you were feeling better and overly exhausted. When you woke up a few hours later, he was still inside you - soft, his head resting on your shoulder.

[samantha-rae-velcher]

Master List Pt. 2

YouTubers

Swaggersouls

Streamers Dream - smut

Markiplier

Games of the many - smut

Joysticks and pushing buttons - smut

Sticks and stones - smut

That one look - smut

The punishment unforgotten - Violence/smut

A need for it and her - smut

The stress is real - fluff

"Im sorry, honey" - fluff

Roomies or More? (Egos) - smut

Yancy NSFW alphabet - smut

Love mistaken for hate (Wilford Warfstache) - fluff

Don't fear the reaper (Darkiplier) - smut

Dark lust (Darkiplier) - smut

Static (Darkiplier) - smut

Warp core breech Pt.1 (ISWM) - fluff

Warp core breech Pt.2 (ISWM) - fluff

Seeing Stars (ISWM) - fluff

Jacksepticeye

Blue tint and cold tiles - smut

Marvel

Me and the Devil walking side by side (Daredevil) - fluff

Sorcerer Supreme (Doctor Strange) - smut

More like Einstein (Tony Stark) - smut

Two tons of iron (Tony Stark) - smut

Green-ish (Bruce Banner) - smut

Tender Touch (Scott Lang) - smut

The speed of light (Pietro Maximoff) - fluff

Courts of Green Pt.1 (Bucky Barnes) - fluff

Courts of Green Pt.2 (Bucky Barnes) - fluff

Courts of Green Pt.3 (Bucky Barnes) - Violence/ fluff

Feathers and Swords (Clint Barton) - smut

Hawks gold (Clint Barton) - fluff

As beautiful as an angel (Yondu Udonta) - fluff

Fear makes love (Ronan the accuser) - smut

Sharp as steel (Wolverine) - smut

Blades that steel the heart (Wolverine) - fluff

Obviously not that obvious (Drax the Destroyer) - smut

DC

Tattoo Buddies (Chato Santana) - fluff

Soldier Boy (Rick Flag) - smut

Slice and dice (Captain boomerang) - smut

Scars and stripes (BOP Victor Zsasz) - smut

TWD

Guns of blazing love (Aaron) - smut

Maybe evil Maybe not But just about (Shane) - smut

Barbed Wire Pt.1 (Negan) - smut

Barbed Wire Pt.2 (Negan) - Smut

Barbed Wire Pt.3 (Negan) - Violence/fluff

Barbed Wire Pt.4 (Negan) - Violence/fluff

Barbed Wire Pt.5 (Negan) - smut

Barbed Wire Pt.6 (Negan) - Violence/fluff

Barbed Wire Pt.7 (Negan) - Violence/fluff

Barbed Wire Pt.8 (Negan) - fluff

Star Wars

The light within (Qui Gon Jinn) - fluff

The force of two (Qui Gon Jinn) - fluff

The force binds all (Obi Wan Kenobi) - smut

The intimidating side of things (Boba Fett) - smut

Orders (Poe Dameron) - angst/ fluff

Black ink (Darth Maul) - smut

The Witcher

How The Witcher men react when you cry - fluff

Bard and Bells (Jaskier) - fluff

Gotham

Gotham Villains teaching s/o to shoot a gun

Gotham Villains when s/o doesn't answer the phone

How Gotham Villains react to their s/o getting shot

Sexting with Oswald Cobblepot - smut

Gotham's King and Queen (Oswald Cobblepot) - angst

I will kill you (Oswald Cobblepot) - fluff

Emperor Penguin (Oswald Cobblepot) - smut

Smoking Roses Pt.1 (Victor Zsasz) - smut

Smoking Roses Pt.2 (Victor Zsasz)- smut

Tainted Riddle (Ed Nygma) - fluff

What am I? (Ed Nygma) - fluff/Violence

Five-O (Jim Gordon) - smut

Stalked (Jeremiah Valeska) - Violence/fluff

Fantastic Beasts

Blue fire and silver smoke (Gellert Grindelwald) - fluff

Heaven without fear (Credence Barebone) - smut

Boardwalk Empire

Gentleman with a dark side (Arnold Rothstein) - smut

[mrs-illyrian-baby]

The Old Gods and The New - Chapter 4

One God to Another | Loki x Reader

Loki begins your training at an unexpected moment, but you both end up learning something new.

Warnings: Loki gets wet! Suggestive descriptions. Reader is still locked up :(

Green divider by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist | Loki Masterlist | Masterlist

Loki sauntered out of the room, hiding his eagerness to see you behind his veil of teasing. Although he would’ve liked to go directly to your room, he detoured to Dr Banner’s lab at the request of Stark’s robot assistant. The god wasn’t particularly fond of disembodied, omniscient voices telling him what to do, that was more his game, but he followed the directions to Dr Banner’s lab nonetheless. 

“Doctor,” he nodded, leaning against the large desk and folding his arms across his chest. 

Bruce barely looked up from the complicated diagram infront of him. Loki knew that his presence made the man uncomfortable, but he couldn’t help how others reacted to him. 

“Loki, she really seemed to engage with you last time. Do you think you could ask about the Grandad? We couldn’t find any guardianship order or documents linking them. I don’t even think their DNA matches.” Bruce said, removing his glasses and wiping them on his white lab coat. He looked up at Loki then, through blurry eyes, as if staring straight at the man would turn him to stone. 

“Do you have a lot of experience with women, Doctor Banner?” Loki drawled, looking at his long fingers and neat nails. 

Bruce flushed cherry red in answer. 

“I find that women do not respond to being interrogated.” Loki pulled the cuffs of his shirt down and the starched fabric became tighter, moulding to his muscular torso and broad shoulders.

“We just need the information, Loki. Not a date.” Bruce grumbled. “Just ask her.”

“Ask her?”

“About her Grandad,” Bruce was clearly frustrated, but kept his voice to a quiet hiss, still hidden behind his workbench.

“Hmmm…no. I’ll talk to her how I want, I’ll do what I want and what’s more, so will she.” Loki walked backwards towards the door, “and maybe, if you all behave, I’ll share with you.” He gave one last smirk before pushing both doors open and striding back into the corridor. 

Loki knocked on the locked door of your room, you'd made it clear you wanted respect and, what's more, Loki believed you deserved it. An honour that he knew you didn't yet understand.

“Yes?” When he pressed the intercom button, he heard your voice as a thin, wary whisper.

He entered slowly and smiled as you turned to greet him, the bracelet on your wrist caught the sun, sending sparkles of green dancing over the white clinical surfaces. He wasn’t sure if you would want to keep it on but his chest swelled at the sight of his colours complimenting you so well. 

“Loki!” You smiled when you saw him, when was the last time anyone had smiled at his presence? “You came back!”

“I promised I would, did I not?” He grinned as you reached out your hand to him. 

“I wanted to show you something.” You pulled him over to the smaller mirror, the real mirror, that was placed over the wash basin. 

Standing in front of him you stared at your reflection, concentration written on your brow. Loki stared too and then, in the corner of your eye, a gold fleck appeared. You smiled and then gold took over the whole of your left iris and then the right. 

You looked at him through the mirror, “I did that, I thought about it and I did it." 

You swivelled to face him and he couldn’t help but touch you, hands on each cheek, to better examine your changing countenance and your beaming smile. 

“Very good Little ásynja, it seems you did not need my assistance after all.”

“Oh no, I do, I do. This took all morning. I want to do more, I want to control my hair and my height - and  -and I want to stop people being uncomfortable around me. I want them to kiss the right people, not me, and -”

Loki ran his thumb over your bottom lip to quiet your rambling. It was a risk, but you didn’t seem to mind the attention or the touch, in fact the air got thicker in the room the longer he touched you, hot and close, his heart sped up again and sweat formed on his brow. 

“Little ásynja we can practise all of those things, but we should start small.”

“Yes, teach me please.” You bounced on your heels, a glow filling the room as the sun hit full in the sky. Loki looked at his watch, 3pm. The sun was in the wrong place.

“Calm down, please. Darling,” he smoothed a hand over your hair and down your back, stilling you for a moment. “First let us find you some calm and then we will practise a simple trick.”

“Calm?”

“Yes, you must be calm so you can free your mind to explore your magic. What would make you relaxed?” Loki had a good idea of what he’d like to do to help relax you, something akin to his last visit but maybe with less clothing, but considering the sun was still in the wrong place and he wasn’t entirely sure you’d noticed, he decided to take it slow. “A bath maybe?”

You nodded, “that would be wonderful, the shower here is horrible.”

Loki waved a hand, checking for cameras and dropping fabric across the mirror again.

“A bath sounds like a good idea,” another wave and a huge copper bath appeared, high at the back with a small table next to it covered in coloured bottles and squares of lined cloth. 

“Incredible,” you breathed, running a finger along the top edge, “it’s warm!” You let out a giggle and Loki could see how the mortals were so enamoured with you, your smile was infectious, bubbling as high as the bath. And as he looked at you, a feeling of joy washed over him too. 

You looked around nervously, and Loki worried you might ask him to leave. Instead he resolved to make himself integral to your relaxation process, if he was indispensable then he could stay. 

He placed his hands on your shoulders, “sometimes the women of Asgard would wear linen shifts when bathing in public,” his magic simmered and a soft white cotton shirt appeared around your body, a thin lace keeping it together between your breasts and collar bone.

“It’s comfortable,” you observed, playing with the lace.

“Good,” Loki smiled softly and held his hand out to help you over the tall side of the bath, and you paused there, your hand in his. 

“The room isn’t very relaxing,” you glanced at the medical bed, the plain table and small window.

“Agreed," a gold halo surrounded the room, the walls darkening into wood panels, the tiny window widening into a fireplace complete with roaring fire. 

“Loki, it's beautiful,” you breathed. And there was that smile again, so genuine and warm. Loki tipped his head towards the bath and supported your weight as you climbed in.

Settling against the high copper back of the bath, you sighed, your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation of the water soothing your body. The shift floated around you, giving you a distinctly angelic air that had Loki's trousers feeling uncomfortably tight. 

Loki watched the pearls of water move across your body as you made waves with your hand, the smell of lavender oil permeating the room. 

He took the opportunity to study your relaxed posture, no hint of inhibition when you put yours hands on the side of the bath. Loki could see your nipples, soft and pebbled, under the translucent linen and he ached to lean forward -  to climb in - to sit behind you and hold you and be the one that grounded you in your body before he helped you unleash your magic. 

Loki was clouded with lust, dizzy, the room was too hot and the steam rising from the bath was creating mist on the windows and mirror. 

He reached a hand in, tracing down your side with his finger, his fingertips touched the underside of your breast lightly and you sucked in a breath, holding still. 

Loki looked up, catching your eyes, trapped by the black and gold that stared back. So unnatural that the hair stood up on the back of his neck. The ends of your hair stuck to your shoulders and he couldn't quite catch the colour or the texture as it shimmered and changed, your magic evaporating from you like steam and you were staring at him, boring into his soul.

“Shall we do some magic?” You asked, reaching a damp hand out to him and flicking scented water over his face.

Anger flashed through Loki's mind, immediately replaced by confusion when he saw your face, a smile at the corner of your lips. You were…playing with him.

And then the smile fell and he studied your face. Were you nervous now? When you were so happy and relaxed before.

Maybe his anger had shown too much, his confusion that anyone would want to play with or tease him, and you had retreated into yourself. 

Loki steeled himself, trying to release the side of his mischief that had been hidden for a long time, the side that laughed and joked and wanted to make others laugh too. 

He pulled his hand back and scooped up the water, splashing you back. 

Now it was your turn to sit in shock and his heart beat loud in his ears, waiting for you to react. 

Water trickled down over your cheeks and lips as they turned up into a broad smile and he matched it, flicking water from the ends of his fingers and revelling in the sound of your giggles. 

His magic welled inside of him, roiling and rising at it had a thousand years ago when he was a God, and not an invader, he felt his sedir deep within himself, connected to you and Midgard. The vacant feeling that missed Asgard was hollow, but surrounded by new branches, new links, and for once he didn’t feel unwell or tired. He felt like a God. 

You played for a while, splashing water and allowing Loki to cast charms on the water that made waves appear, a row of magical ducklings, paddling towards you and from the depths of bath, a miniature whale, blowing fireworks as it breached the surface, it’s wide tail splashing you on it’s return to the deep. 

He was incredible, this god before you, funny and kind and handsome. You knew his past, of course, but it was hard to believe that this Loki would willingly harm others. Tricks and mischief were one thing, that he radiated from his very being, but evil? Cruelty? It didn’t seem possible. 

“Let us begin with an easy trick, one of my favourites," Loki said, and a small jug appeared in his hand. He filled it from the bath, while your keen eyes followed his every move until his arm snapped forward and he poured the jug over your head without warning. 

Loki sat back on his heels and watched as you spluttered. 

“Loki! What are you doing!”

He sat back with a grin. “Dry your hair.” He ordered, crossing his arms across his chest and leaving a damp spot on the sleeve of his shirt where he tucked his hands. 

You glared at him, and then reached a hand out of the bath for a towel, but he closed his hand around wrist and slowly lowered it back into the water, “with magic,” he encouraged.

“How?”

“Just, think about it. Imagine how you want your hair to look after. You want it to be dry, but eventually you can practise changing the style, the colour, the textures. We won’t change the length or colour today, just dry it.”

You turned away from him and scrunched your face up in concentration, just dry it indeed, as if it was that simple! He couldn’t help but smile, you just looked so cute with your eyes closed, focussing so hard. The thought of you laughing and smiling with him again was in his head before he could do anything to stop it. 

As the God of Mischief, Loki had spent a good deal of his childhood playing tricks and games, making fun and pulling pranks. As an adult he had assumed that he needed to evolve his pranks, make them grander. But perhaps this easy jesting was what his heart truly needed. He felt light and carefree watching you splutter as, rather than dry, your hair seemed to get wetter and heavier. Your nose wrinkled and the ends of your hair began to lighten, no longer heavy and weighed down with water. 

“Ásynja, look,” you opened your eyes and looked into the small mirror Loki held for you, grinning at your reflection. 

“It’ll take ages for the rest to dry though,” you grouched, touching the top of your head which was still soaking wet, but the ends were perfectly dry. 

“You should be proud of your achievement,” Loki lifted your chin with a finger, “do you think those mortals can do this? No. It is hard because it is special. Again,” he snapped his fingers and water appeared above your head, dousing you once more. 

“You bastard!” You laughed, snatching the jug and pouring water over him in return. Loki would normally have pulled his knives by now at such an insult, the bitter feeling of loneliness, of being the punchline of a thousand jokes for a thousand years mellowing into a distant hum as you giggled at him through your own wet hair. And Loki laughed too, a deep rumbling laugh that broke out of him and filled the room until you were both sucking in your breath, hiccuping and clutching your sides. 

Loki managed to calm down long enough to bring you both back to your lesson. His smile lingered at the corners of his lips when he spoke again. 

“Watch, think about being dry, picture it. And-” Loki moved his neck, the water vanishing from his shoulders and hair, the trickle on his nose gone.

You stared, in awe, and then your features shifted into a determined stare. “I think it’s harder when I’m still in the water,” you stood then, unabashed, and climbed out of the tub, dripping on the floor until a rug appeared under your feet. 

You closed your eyes, clenched your fists and muttered to yourself, shifting your body as Loki had. The feeling of clinging linen was gone, instead you felt warm but dry, the hair stuck to your face was now perfectly dry and styled. You cracked one eye open and caught your reflection in Loki’s mirror.

“I did it!”

“Well done Ásynja, darling you’re doing so well!” Loki glowed with pride, you were learning quickly, discovering the depths of your magic with precision and focus. 

“Now we have learnt some magic for you to practise, what else do you desire?” Loki had been hoping to guide you to himself as he watched your nipples harden under the linen of your shift. 

You walked to the fireplace peering at it and inspecting the mantle that Loki had created.

“I want out of this room.” You said seriously “I won’t be a danger, I promise, I just want to be free.”

“I will do my best, darling, but you must understand they do not trust me either.”

“What about your brother?”

“Thor?”

“Yes, can he help? I’ll promise him to be good too, I really won’t start any fires,” Loki felt a little sick at the thought of you speaking to Thor, it hadn’t crossed his mind that at some point he’d have to share your attention with anyone else, especially not another God. And that you would be ‘good’, he didn’t want you to be good for anyone. He wanted you to be carefree, daring, perhaps even a little wicked. He wanted to be the one to set you free. He hadn’t realised how lonely he had this time with you, his icy demeanour thawing under the rays of your smile. 

“I can discuss the matter with him,” Loki agreed. “He has their favour so may be of use.”

There was a curt knock at the door, Loki was still being heavily monitored and he was sure they wouldn’t be happy about the curtain or him breaking the cameras again.

“I must go, my Little Ásynja, I will return as soon as I can,” the glimmer that Loki had created around the room changed and the sterile environment reappeared.

You took Loki by the hand and squeezed for a second, “I’ll miss you,” you gave him a shy smile and he bent down in return, aiming to place a chaste kiss on your cheek. But you turned your head, pressing your petal soft lips against his and stole a single kiss. 

Loki, surprised and flustered by such a bold move, only stepped  back, attempting to rein in his control. 

“I shall miss you too darling, but I will be back.” He closed the door behind him, taking one last look at you before the lock slammed into place.

Loki found Thor in the main common room deep in conversation with his fellow Avengers.

“Brother, what have you discovered?!” Thor waved him closer, patting the seat next to him on the sofa. 

“Why do you keep covering the mirror,” Steve asked, fiercely, speaking over Thor. Loki decided to ignore him. Your need for privacy was obvious, if the Captain couldn’t understand that then it was beyond explanation.

“You must release her. Give her a real room. Under my tutelage she is gaining control of her powers. She has not changed appearance, she is the same height. And she managed some simple magic today. Have no fear, mortals, the girl is no danger, just a little…wild, that’s all.” Loki took the seat next to Thor and inspected the cuffs of his shirt, the smell of lavender still clinging the the soft fibres. 

“She is doing magic, that’s pretty dangerous.” Sam said, his concern clear but without judgement. Sam was calculating without being ruthless, like Bruce he merely wanted to understand the fullness of the situation before committing himself. Steve and Tony, on the other hand, seemed to take only a split second before becoming agitated. 

“We don’t even really know who she is. She won’t even give us a name.” Steve said before turning to Loki. “But you, you call her something, what does it mean?” His tone took on an accusatory edge, his arms folded across his chest. 

“Quit it Steve,” Sam tugged on his shirt, trying to get him to sit down again, “Loki is here to help.” 

“What does he call her?” Thor asked, gleefully, leaning forwards in his chair. 

“Would you like me to continue to teach her to control her magic? Because she requires freedom, air, access to the elements and to peace.” 

“No.” Steve insisted. 

“I understand,” Loki began to tease. “She is far too terrifying a being to bring out here, with your-” Loki waved his hand at the assembled group “-’heroes’. We wouldn’t want to frighten them with their own secretive, lusty, thoughts.” Loki kept his eyes trained keenly on the Captain while he lifted an eyebrow, itching for him to fight back, to fall into his traps. 

“Assinyar or something, ” Steve answered Thor.

“Ásynja?” Thor asked, gleefully. 

“Yes!” 

Thor looked at Loki, half with love and the other half brotherly mischief, and tipped his head to the side. 

“Ásynja, is that so?” Thor appeared to think for a moment, before settling back on Steve. “Loki is right.” Thor agreed, and the god almost fell off his chair, “if she is to be an Avenger she must learn with the group.”

Loki smiled genially, “Thank you, Thor.” But deep down his heart clenched at the thought of handing you over to the Avengers for good.

To Loki’s relief plans had been put in motion to secure you a new lodging in the compound and it wasn’t long until he was was called down to your new room, according to Bruce you would see no one but Loki, even if it was to grant you some form of freedom around the compound. Your bedchamber was to be opposite Loki’s in the guest suite and, for insurance, Thor had been moved as well. Loki assumed Thor would be put out by his move, but he instead seemed thrilled to be taking part in such menial tasks as moving his clothes, treating the entire morning as a jolly game while Loki’s thoughts swirled frantically. 

Loki had been delighted by the news, appearing early and trimmed out in his finest Asgardian leathers to accompany you around the compound to your new quarters. But he was still uneasy about the Avenger’s involvement and, somewhere deep down, concerned about your true nature. 

All thoughts were forgotten as soon as you smiled at him though, taking his hand in your own and walking close by his side back to your new rooms. 

“They don’t like me anymore,” you’d mumbled, taking an extra step to keep up with his long strides. 

“They are selfish. They are fickle. They are mortal. We must make allowances.” Loki answered, briskly, tucking your hand into the crook of his elbow. 

“You keep saying they are mortal like I’m not. What did you see when you saw my memories?” You came to a stop and stood before him, hands on your hips as your piercing gaze bore into his own. 

Loki was taken aback, he hadn’t realised you were aware of him entering your thoughts. He was speechless, how was he to explain what he had seen?

“Let us sit down, darling,” Loki looked very serious and it did nothing to fade your fears. “If I tell you all now, well, I don’t know what would happen. I believe the common parlance on Midgard is 'blow your mind’?”

“Wow, okay. So. That bad?” You chewed your lip. 

“You remember your Grandfather, yes”

“Yes”

“When did you go to live with him Ásynja?”

“When I was very young.”

“And do you know your age, have any pictures or memories, school books? Do you mean you were a babe in arms, or a child?”

“Well, no,” you looked frightened suddenly, your eyes darting back and forth as you dove into your memories. He was right, you couldn’t remember. 

“No. Because, my darling, he was not your grandfather. I have yet to discover who he truly is because you don’t know.”

“That means, at some point, I did at least know that he wasn’t my Grandad?” 

You were smart, he liked that. 

“Perhaps, yes.”

“Why did I stay? Why was I there then?”

“Darling you were drugged. Sedated. Kept there. You are much older than they thought and t that old man and he is not your grandfather.”

“Wait, what, go back. How old am I?”

“So as to avoid 'blowing your mind’ let’s go backwards slowly so you can get used to it. If you were, say, twenty-five,you would have been born in the late 1990s. But I have seen your memories of you at Glastonbury, 1970.”

“Wow, as, like, a kid?” You sat heavily on one of the modern leather couches dotted about the corridors. 

“No,” Loki put his hands on either side of your face,  “just like this, except you were powerful, in control. You’ve done this before, that’s how I know you can control these powers.” Standing over you like this, he blocked the light until all you could see was his serious face looking back. Loki concentrated on the memory he had seen and he could feel you searching for it too as he slipped back inside of your memories. You smiled as the images came flooding back, the smell of beer and flowers and patchouli oil, the feel of the sun on her bare skin, long linen skirts wrapping around her knees and ankles as she danced in circles.

You pulled away with a gasp, “Have you told the others?” 

“No,” Loki looked affronted. “Of course not.”

“Okay, good. Good.” You chewed the tip of your thumb again absently. Loki reached his hand over to your mouth, brushing your thumb away with his own. 

“And I never will unless you want me to.” He insisted, cupping your cheek in one broad hand. He was as cool as always, but it was a welcome relief to your heated body. Whatever was going on was deeper than you’d thought, just some mutant gene that had been dormant during your childhood. To be alive in 1970 and still looking as you did…that was something more. 

“Let’s keep it between us.” You waved a hand between the small gap between you both and how could he do anything but obey when you looked at him like that. 

Loki nodded, taking your hand and leading you further down the corridor towards your new rooms, you were silent for a while and then, as if struck by lightning, you were full of energy. 

“Well. Now I know I’m powerful, I can show you something!” You  looked excited and Loki brimmed with pride that he had brought this excitement, this assurance, out of you. “I’ve been practising.”

Loki knew you had, your appearance had been stable for the last three days, even when you were angry you’d manage to maintain yourself. Plus, he had heard you training, muttering encouragement to yourself as you stared in the mirror. All you had to say was his name and it became a prayer chant in his mind.

You took Loki’s hand between your small palms, one hand above and one below. When you pulled them away you slowly revealed a thin silver ring with a delicate, dark sapphire set deep into the band.

“A gift,” you whispered looking up at him through your lashes, “from one god to another.” 

And he kissed you, he couldn’t help it, you were all consuming. Your magic tangible, drawing him closer until he was engulfed by it, swallowed in the glow that you created, the sunlight and heat spreading from your body across and mixing with the crackle of his own magic. Was it sedir or lust at your fingertips, he couldn’t tell until they burnt him. 

Loki took your wrists, holding you away from him with a jovial smile. 

“Darling, please desist from burning me."

<<Part 3

Part 5>>

[onechicagolife]

prayers

summary: prompt 33 - in which chicago med goes on lockdown

requested? yes by anonymous (x2)

word count: 1426

warnings: active/mass shooting (i know this is canon with the triggers of the show but this is a particularly tough topic; there is nothing explicit or descriptive other than gunshots being heard)

want to be tagged? link in bio &lt;3

You make your way back towards the emergency department with a fresh cup of coffee in hand, the cafeteria coffee being surprisingly better than whoever stocks the doctor’s lounge with some weird, flavored crap you can’t keep down. This feels like the longest shift of your life, rarely getting a break from the craziness of a Chicago hospital. You take a long sip, savoring the taste when your pager beeps on your waist. You groan to yourself, not wanting to have to toss your coffee and run to the ED, even though it is a relatively short distance now. When you finally tug the pager free from where it is clipped to your scrubs, your breath hitches in your throat as you read the letters staring back at you.

CODE SILVER.

Racking your brain for an email about a drill that you may have skimmed over, you can feel your heart hammering in your chest like an anvil on metal sending a ringing through your ears. This has to be a drill. You learn about what to do in active shooter situations, but you never thought one would actually happen at a hospital. The small hope that this was somehow not real squashes when three quick shots ring out and your head shoots up, the sound scaring you so bad that you drop the cup in your hand. Coffee splashes on your feet and the brief shocked silence is suddenly filled with screams.

You’ve been trained for this. You’ve been trained for this. You’ve been trained for this.

Everything you learned flew out the window the second you heard those shots sounding too close for comfort and you stand there, frozen. You only snap back to yourself when a frantic woman bumps into you as she runs by with her young child in her arms. It works like a bucket of cold water on a sleeping form, and you start taking in your surroundings. Your eyes dart in every direction, watching as people run and attempt to hide as more shots ring out.

When your eyes land on a door that has a locked card scanner, you kick it into gear. You run over and swipe your access card, watching the red light turn green and waiting for the click to open the door. Glancing back over your shoulder, you spot a group of people trying to shield themselves poorly behind furniture, and you call out to get their attention. When one elderly man meets your eyes, you check both ways to make sure the coast is clear before gesturing them over.

Once everyone in sight is ushered inside, cramming as tightly as possible in the uncomfortably small storage space, you close the door and sit with your back against it. Closing your eyes for a second, you let out a long breath through your nose to try and slow your breathing. One woman’s sobs reach your ears, and your eyes fly open. You bring a finger to your lips and shush her, feeling bad for the harshness but knowing now is not the time for niceties. Someone has to be in charge, and it’s going to be you.

Now that you’ve had a moment to catch your breath with the solid barrier between the rest of the hospital, the severity of the situation hits you. Immediately, you pull out your phone from the inner pocket of your lab coat. The brightness is stark in the almost pitch-blackness of the room and you hurry to turn the brightness all the way down before it can be seen through the space under the door. Eyes adjusting to the screen, you notice the dozens of text messages and missed calls.

Will Halstead: where the hell are you

Will Halstead: there’s a shooter in the ED

Will Halstead: WHERE ARE YOU

Maggie Lockwood: There’s multiple people down in the ED.

Connor Rhodes: Locked in the hybrid OR with Will. Shooter somewhere in the hospital. Where are you?

Maggie Lockwood: Are you safe?

Jay Halstead (14 missed calls)

You respond to the texts first, assuring that you are safe and exactly where you are. It takes a few moments longer than usual due to the shaking of your hands that you can’t gain control of. You’re a doctor, your job relies on steady hands. Yet here you are, struggling to construct a sentence that makes sense. Once you manage, though, you tap the call button on your boyfriend’s contact. Bringing the phone to your ear, you listen as it goes straight to voicemail without even ringing. Meaning his phone is off. Hopefully meaning that he’s responding to this very scene. Hopefully meaning you won’t die without being able to tell him that you’re in love with him. You close your eyes shut to hold back the tears, knowing that if you break down, there’s no way the other dozen people in here will be able to keep it together.

It feels like hours go by in harrowing stillness, but in reality, it was probably shorter than that. Truthfully, you have no idea. It could have been days or seconds, and you wouldn’t know the difference. The sobs around you have quieted, with some of the people falling into silent prayers and hugging the complete strangers beside them. You even pray yourself, to any god or being that will listen, to get you out of this and back to the people – the person – you love. But the silence is interrupted when footsteps echo through the halls outside where you’ve found shelter, and the sobs of a few come back in full force, others trying their best to smother the sounds.

You bring a still-shaking hand up to your mouth, stifling the short breaths as your strength fractures and a few tears trail down your cheeks as the footsteps get closer. When they seem to come to halt just behind where you sit, there's only two inches separating you from whoever is outside. 

You hold your breath.

“Y/N?”

Your eyes fly open at the sound of the love of your life’s voice. You quickly move to stand up when a young girl, maybe ten, tugs harshly on your pant leg. Glancing down, you meet her frightened eyes and do your best at a reassuring smile. “It’s okay,” you glance around the room with a soft nod, “that’s the police.” Heavy gasps and relieved cries fill the room as you manage to spin around in the cramped space, gripping the handle and yanking the door open.

Immediately, your eyes land on Jay, and a sense of peace washes over you. The feeling is mirrored in his eyes as he takes you in, checking you for nonexistent injuries before you all but launch yourself at him. His arms circle your waist as yours wind around his neck with a grip so tight you’re nearly choking him, but he doesn’t even mind. Jay lifts you off the ground slightly to move out of the way, allowing the other dozen people to come out and be helped by the various other officers. 

“Thank god,” you choke out, tears now flowing freely.

“It’s okay,” Jay mumbles into your hair, one hand migrating to cradle the back of your head, “You’re okay.”

After a few moments of being calmed in his embrace, you pull away just enough to meet his eyes. “Is everyone okay? Did you find Will and th—” you start to ask, words tumbling out of your mouth faster than you can think them.

“Everyone’s okay,” Jay assures, both hands moving to cup your cheeks, “A few bystanders and a nurse were shot, but everyone is going to live. I found Will in the ED; he told me where you were.” 

You close your eyes and nod at his words, signaling that you understand them.

Swiping a tear off of your skin, Jay says your name like a prayer and you open your eyes once again. “When you didn’t answer your phone, I—I thought,” he struggles to get the words out, “I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You are so important to me, you are such a big part of my life, that I just… I can’t imagine you not here. I love you, Y/N.”

The words hit your ears and it’s a melody you want to listen to for the rest of your life. Jay has never said that to you before and now you never want him to stop.

You manage a watery smile, leaning in until your forehead touches his, “I love you.”

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