#stretcher tents

[mercisnm]

doodles for the Knight and Monarch AU from months ago that I forgot to share: Yennefer helping Tissaia get ready for a tournament and Yennefer helping her get back on her feet (literally) after sustaining serious injuries during said tournament

[natalievoncatte]

Through the howling nightmare, Supergirl’s voice was clear as thunder from a clear sky.

“I will not drop you. You have to jump!”

Lena lay clinging to a cargo net in the bottom of the wreckage of the plane, suspended thirty thousand feet up by the quivering, all-too-human fingers of Supergirl’s right hand. As the other woman stood on the sky, the wind lashed her, and Lena knew that Supergirl could not save them both, could not keep both halves of the plane aloft. Even if her shaking hands could hold the weight, the plane itself would collapse, disintegrate. There was no time.

She wanted to make peace with it. This would be a good end, she thought. Supergirl would gel the world, tell them about Lena’s sacrifice. Her death would inspire people, and it would lead to Morgan Edge’s downfall. She was tired of fighting, tired of struggling. She was cold and every bone in her body hurt and the back of her head was throbbing from where Edge’s goon had knocked her out. Lena had been knocked out so many times it had probably given her permanent damage.

The world hated her. Everyone hated her. All they saw was a Luthor no matter what she did. Why fight? Why cling to a life she didn’t even want anymore?

“Lena, please.”

The agony in Supergirl’s plea struck her with physical force, a thump in her chest that made it too real. There was something in that voice that made her believe, even hope. There was something more in that voice, something pleading and longing, unbearably heavy with an unfathomable pain.

“I won’t drop you!” she insisted, her words a veiled threat:

I’ll poison the whole damned city before I let you go.

So Lena began to climb.

It was agonizing. Her fingers burned. It felt like her joints were tearing apart and her muscles shredding. The air was too thin and the wreckage was swinging and oh God almighty Jesus she was going to puke. She climbed higher and higher, and by the time she was close enough to see the terror in Supergirl’s eyes, she was reciting the Lord’s Prayer under her breath, some distant part of her brain remembering a darkened Irish church from another life.

“Jump!”

Lena jumped.

She could swear that Supergirl let go the instant she lost contact. The other half of the plane fell away into the terrible void below her, and when she landed she thought she’d missed, that she must have died, but she landed on cargo netting and the wreckage groaned around her as Supergirl took a better grip and began descending, carrying the poison away from the reservoir and to safety.

When the plane came to rest, Supergirl tore her way inside with frantic desperation, shredding the wreckage until she reached Lena, lifting her bodily from the netting, curling the smaller woman in her powerful arms.

“You’re safe, you’re okay, you’re safe…” and then she mumbled something in what had to be Kryptonian, almost too low for Lena to hear.

The rest of the night was a blur, and Lena was exhausted. There was a brief medical exam by Kara’s sister Alex -odd that she always seemed to show up when Supergirl was involved- and then it happened.

Supergirl stepped into the tent where Lena lay on a stretcher, very hurt and sore but mostly just exhausted, and said in the softest voice, “May I take you home, Miss Luthor?”

Any other time she’d have quipped, first about the formality and then about how she really didn’t want to fly right now, but this time she said “Yes” without a second thought, without even knowing why.

Supergirl did not ask, but it was not a presumption. She scooped Lena up and carried her outside, exchanging a fraught look with Agent Danvers, some wordless agreement made between them that resulted in a curt nod from Alex.

Lena curled into Supergirl as they took off, shrouded in her cape, head tucked in the hollow between her neck and shoulder. It was weirdly intimate and yet oddly comfortable, familiar even. It wasn’t a long flight before Supergirl landed on Lena’s balcony with the greatest grace, barely jarring her, and bore her inside.

Supergirl lowered her onto the couch and stepped back. She stared at Lena and Lena stared back, the air bearing a charge between them so intense that Lena thought she smelled ozone, as if the air was heavy before a summer storm.

It was Supergirl who looked like she’d just suffered the terror of her life, like she was the one who had looked into the dark tonight and found that the abyss gazes also. She kept on staring

Lena didn’t know why she asked. The question came to her and was already on the air before she had even formed it.

“Would you have really dropped the chemicals in the reservoir to save me?”

Supergirl didn’t hesitate. She didn’t explain or dissemble. She spoke a single word with total conviction and absolute truth.

“Yes.”

“Why?” Lena demanded, wobbling as she tried to stand up. “Why? I’m not worth it. You barely know-“

Lena faltered and in an instant, Supergirl was there, steadying her, gazing into her face… longingly.

Lena’s heart raced. They were inches apart and she could swear they Supergirl was holding her tenderly by her arms to kiss her, not support her. She could feel the Kryptonian’s breath on her lips.

“That’s not true. I do know you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at me.”

“Supergirl-“

“Lena, please, it’s me. Look at me.”

Lena started to say something, to deflect, to escape the intensity of Supergirl’s apparent longing, but then… she looked.

It’s me.

A sharp breath dragged through her of its own accord as Lena gasped, her gaze darting about as she saw this woman as if for the first time, a shiver running down her spine. Her eyes went wide as she met Supergirl’s gaze, staring deeply into her ocean blue eyes and recognizing the depth within them- layers upon layers, the sorrow that swirled beneath the the laugh lines like freezing ocean currents swirling too far below the cerulean surface. The quick wit and self-deprecating humor, the humility and kindness and joy. These were the eyes of a woman who laughed easily and felt deeply, who desperately sought to make the world a better place, to show others the goodness that she could see in them when others could not.

The eyes of Kara Danvers.

Look at me.

“Oh my God,” Lena whispered. “Oh my God. Kara.”

Kara smiled, looking blessedly relieved as tears fell from her eyes.

“It’s me, Lena. I should have told you after… mmmph!”

She didn’t finish. They were kissing instead. Lena had no doubts, no fears, she just knew. All she had to do was throw herself into it and Kara gathered her up into a careful embrace, at once feather-light and gentle and sure and safe as being hugged by a castle. Kara kissed her back with stunning intensity, so greedily, so hungrily, that Lena was a little shocked. She hadn’t been kissed like this… ever, really. She was barely aware that she’d been lifted from the ground and set on a kitchen stool and it took a moment before she even realized that she’d grabbed a handful of the buns of steel, and Kara had been just as forward.

Then Kara suddenly seemed to recall that Lena needed to breath and pulled back.

“I should stay the night,” she panted. “Edge might send more of them after you. I can protect you.”

Lena nodded, blinking back her own tears. Kara didn’t let go.

She did stay the night, though Lena ended up teasing her bodyguard about taking off her super-suit so quickly.

[imtryingbuck]

Timeless Love.

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky might have met the love of his life in the middle of a war, he just wished he was able to live a life with her.

Word count: 6,598

Warnings: angst. kidnapping. fluff. Hydra. forced breeding. forced miscarriage.

A/N: enjoyed writing this!! Thank you for the request. Also thank you to @buckys-wintersoldier for helping me when I needed it!🤍

Part 2

Masterlist

“Y/n L/n. 107th.”

She nodded smiling at her friend who had also been given the same unit. All the nurses - professional and volunteers alike were waiting for their names to be called to hear what unit they would be stationed with.

Then she was given the news that she was going to be the matron. And at twenty four years old that was a massive accomplishment, herself and her parents were beyond proud.

“Hey doc” she couldn’t help but roll her eyes at hearing the familiar voice that she began hearing everyday. “I’m injured doll, need your help to patch me back up”

Looking up for the clipboard she carried around she saw the Sergeant who had captured all the attention from all the nurses. Though he never paid any mind to them, just her.

James Buchanan Barnes.

“Firstly I’m not a doctor, just a nurse and secondly this is your seventh time coming here this week”

“Firstly you should be a doctor, better than the one we’ve got and secondly I keep getting hurt”

“Bucky… it’s only Wednesday.”

“You love me. Aren’t you going to ask me what my very serious injury is?”

“I don’t love you. Okay, what seems to be the problem Sergeant?”

“Y-you don’t love me? I’m going to cry myself to sleep tonight thanks to you!”

“What’s your injury Sergeant?”

“My heart” he places his hand on his chest and looks up at her sympathetically. “My heart hurts doll”

“James… you do realise that your heart is on the left side not the right…”

Moving his hand to the left side “Oh… are you sure?”

“Yes I’m sure” chuckling at his facial expression, he winks causing her to laugh.

“The truth is that I just wanted to see you, I like you even though you’re being mean to me” he pouts and bats his eyelashes as he kicked his legs back and forth.

“How am I being mean to you?” She asks whilst counting stock, trying her hardest to ignore the intense gaze of his ocean blue eyes on her back.

“Because you won’t let me take you dancing”

“You should go with one of the other nurses James”

“I don’t want any of the other nurses, just you”

“You-“

“Y/n! Y/n quick we need you!” Mary’s panic scream interrupted her. Jumping up and rushing out of the tent with Bucky right behind her, a group of men carrying a stretcher with a man lying on it. His right leg gone as well as his left arm.

“Get him in here” Bucky opens the flaps of the tent, his eyes trained on the young soldier as they passed him. “Help me transfer him on to the bed, carefully.”

Bucky watched on as Y/n took control, ordering the nurses around and trying to get the soldiers to move away so she could work. When one of the men wouldn’t move Bucky stepped in.

It wasn’t long before Y/n made everyone get out except for the nurses.

“Go” Bucky’s head snapped from the medical tent to Dum Dum sitting next to him, giving the man a questioning look, Dum Dum laughed. “The doc”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about” he mumbled before downing the rest of his drink.

“You’ve been turning down women all night and I’m honestly surprised that you haven’t burnt a hole into the tent with how intense you’ve been looking at it. Oh and let’s not forget that you’ve been obsessed from the second you laid eyes on her”

“I-no I haven’t.”

“You have, and don’t bother trying to argue with me. Go and talk to her”

“And say what?”

“That’s on you” Bucky contemplated on whether or not to take his friend’s advice, it didn’t take too long before he was getting up and heading over to the medical tent. “Shes in her own tent” he heard from behind him so he changed course.

Standing outside the small tent he fixed his hair before pushing the flap aside, he found her sitting hunched over the small table one hand in her hair and the other scribbling away as she filled in paperwork.

“I can feel your eyes on me” her whispered voice snapped him out of his head.

“Are you alright doll?”

“I’m fine don’t worry, go and enjoy your night”

Moving closer to her he saw the tears falling freely down her cheeks. “Hey, hey why are you crying doll?”

“He… he didn’t make it. I tried everything bu-but it wasn’t enough, he was only seventeen Bucky.”

“Oh doll. You did everything you could-“

“But it wasn’t enough! And within the week his parents are going to know I failed, I failed to save their son”

Bucky pulled her into his arms, holding her close to his chest ignoring the feeling of her tears wetting his shirt. “It’s not your fault” he whispered over and over again as she fell apart in his arms.

“I failed”

“No you didn’t! Nobody would have been able to have saved him Y/n and you know that.”

“He was only seventeen Bucky. A child!”

“I know sweetheart, I know.”

As the laughing and music continued outside Bucky kept Y/n close to his chest, rocking them both from side to side slowly. Sleep began to overtake them, being the gentleman that he was he turned his back on her waiting for her to change into her nightwear.

“Goodnight doll”

“Stay… please”

“Of course” he was slightly shocked by seeing her shifting over in the small cot then patting the space she had created.

Climbing in next to her, wrapping her up and pulling her into his chest. Pressing his lips to her forehead “goodnight my love”

It became an unspoken routine between the two of them that Bucky would sleep in her bed, they ignored the teasing from all those around them - as if the nurses weren’t warming the soldiers beds themselves. There was nothing sexual about what they were doing, it was just two lost souls finding themselves seeking shelter within one another.

That however changed one night when Bucky went into their now shared tent finding her once again hunched over the table. “Hi doll”

“Hi Sergeant”

“Me and the guys move out tomorrow”

“I heard. How are you feeling?” She asked looking up from the papers in front of her.

“Nervous I won’t lie, but I’m going to miss you”

“I’m going to miss you too but you shouldn’t be gone long, right?”

“Two weeks, three at the most” he shrugged. “Doll, come and dance with me”

“There’s no music…”

“So? Come on” he held his hand out for her to take, his heart fluttering with the look she gave him as she puts her hand in his. “You are so pretty” he whispers as they swayed together.

“‘M not.”

“Yes you are. From the second I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most prettiest dame I had ever laid eyes on.”

“You’re lying!” She chuckled.

“I am not!”

“If you say so”

Bucky gently raises her head up by her chin, “I have never lied to you.”

“Bucky… kiss me please” she asked softly. Their lips met slowly at first before growing heatedly and passionately.

The next morning with only a thick blanket covering their naked bodies they basked in the silence of the camp, Bucky running his fingers through her hair and Y/n drawing invisible circles on his chest.

“When this war comes to an end me and you are going to get married” Bucky declared as he broke the silence.

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

“Nope” he chuckled. “Why, don’t you want to marry me?”

“And put up with you for the rest of my life?”

“Yeah, why what’s wrong with that?”

“You’re annoying”.

“And?” He drawls with a cheeky grin on his face.

“I’ll probably smoother you in your sleep?”

“And? Doll you aren’t giving me a good reason for why we shouldn’t get married”

“You honestly want to marry me?”

“More than anything, and I promise I’ll be an amazing husband and we’ll have so much fun together an-“

“Yes”

“-d we’ll make so many memories-“

“Yes”

“-and we’ll grow old toge-wait… yes?”

“Yes Bucky, I’ll marry you when the war is ov-“ her words get cut off from him pressing his lips to hers.

“I can’t wait to annoy you for the rest of our lives together”

Later that morning, before Dum Dum led his unit out of the camp heading to only where they knew they were going Bucky ran over to Y/n giving her a kiss and promised her that he would come back to her.

Since the only people left there was the nurses, injured men and some of the officials the camp was excruciatingly quiet. And since it was only just them… well the camp had become very boring.

Two weeks passed quicker than she thought, waiting to hear the loud chatter from the men to fill in the silence yet it never came. Another week went by and again there was no sight of them. Y/n was helping Private Smith sit up in more of a comfortable position when Mary came rushing in, slightly out of breath.

“Th-they’ve been captured!”

“What? How do you know?”

“Word just come in, I overheard it but apparently Captain America is going to rescue them because he knows someone in the unit”

“I-okay. Okay erm… we’ll need to get things set up for when they come back just incase they are hurt” Y/n rambled off, unaware that she was squeezing Smiths hand - not like he minded.

“He’ll be fine darling” Smith squeezed her hand back.

“I-I know. You need to eat-“

“I will don’t worry but you need to eat too darling as well”

Sitting down next to him they enjoyed a nice meal together, Smith doing everything to help get her mind off of Bucky and the others by talking to her about his life before the war, his wife and children, telling her all the plans he had planned when he got home. It worked. Until it was time to go to bed, being alone with her thoughts made her mind come up with all kinds of scenarios and most of them weren’t good.

It was another two weeks before word got to them that they were coming back. Captain America had saved them.

Y/n was in the medical tent filling out paperwork when applause erupted in the air as Captain America approached with the 107th behind him, hearing the cheers she jumped up and began getting things ready, as the first person was brought in her sole attention was on the solider and not the other one she had been worrying about in the five weeks since she had seen him.

“Hey! Let’s hear it for Captain America!” She smiled at hearing his voice as she concentrated on the patient in front of her.

“He’s already asked about you” Ann says as she put pressure on the solider’s wound.

“Ah, your the famous doc that he wouldn’t shut up talking about”

“Excuse me?”

“Barnes? Yeah he wouldn’t stop talking about you, if you ask me he’s in love with you” the guy winked.

It wasn’t until everything in the medical tent had calmed down that she had heard his voice again. “I’m injured doll”

Spinning around she sees him standing there with a grin on his dirt covered face. “Who are you?”

“Your future husband, silly. Missed you doll”

“I missed you too” hearing her words he crossed over to where she stood and placed his hands on her face, cupping her face before placing his lips against hers. Both sighing in content at the feeling they had both been missing for weeks.

“Are you hurt? Where?”

“‘M not hurt my love, just messing with you”

“Are you not going to introduce me Buck?” A new voice cut through making them take a step apart from each other.

“Y/n this is Steve, Steve this is my doll” Y/n smiled at the blond who happily returned the expression.

“It’s nice to meet the woman who this one wouldn’t stop talking about”

“I didn’t talk about her once” Bucky rushed out. “I didn’t doll” shaking his head whilst looking at her.

“He’s actually not the first person to tell me that” Y/n winked at Steve making the man laugh.

“I hate the both of you.”

A celebration was held that night when they came back, the men sharing the tale of how they were captured - all teasing each other when they said they weren’t scared. Telling the women how Captain America had told them to leave but they refused, Dum Dum said that they arrived together and were going to be leaving together. Everyone including Y/n hanging on to every word that was spoken of their rescue and how they defeated the enemy.

Bucky never spoke a word, no, he was too lost in watching the flames of the fire-pit flickering off Y/n’s face. Mesmerised by the way her eyes shined so brightly in the darkness, audibly groaning as he watched her bite her lip - his mind going straight to the gutters.

Much later that night Bucky took his time in making love to her.

The 107th Infantry Regiment had been teamed up with Steve to take down an organisation, Bucky promised her that he would contact her whenever they set up camp for the night. Every night they spoke even if it was just for a few minutes, he told her where they were and asked how everything back at camp was going, before ending their call he would tell her that he was coming back to her.

The last time she spoke to him he informed her that they were in Austria, he made her giggle when he complained that they had to go up the alps, telling her how cold it was. He then shocked her by telling her that he was in love with her. Before she could even respond the connection cut off.

She knew there was something wrong when she never received another call from him, Mary and Ann told her that he was just busy and that he would come back and everything was going to be fine. Every time she tried to speak with the General about the update of where they were he just walked away from her.

For two months she didn’t hear anything from him or from anyone, for two months she spent her time trying to take her mind off of the brunette who had wormed himself into her heart.

Mary came running over to the river where Y/n was sitting watching as the ducks swam past her. “Y/n… they’re back.”

Jumping up and running to where the men were, she looked around for the man who she had been missing more than anything, her eyes moved frantically from man to man who all seemed to have a problem with making eye contact with her. Her heart settled when a hand rested itself on her shoulder.

“Darlin’ I-I need to talk to you” it was Dum Dum.

“W-where is he? Dum…”

“Come with me love” he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and moved them to her tent. “I’m sorry darling, he… he didn’t make it”

“W-where is he though?”

“He fell off the train in the alps, we couldn’t find his body”

“No… no we need to fi-find him so his family can bury him… Dum please” his heart ached for the woman in front of him, all he could do was hold her in his arms as she broke down crying. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that Bucky’s last words to Steve was him begging the blond to make sure he looked after Y/n.

After crying for a good solid ten minutes she removed herself from his arms, wiped her tears before nodding and walking out - leaving Dum Dum standing there dumbfounded.

She knew herself that she wasn’t going to be able to be aloud time away to mourn, they weren’t dating or married, while they had feelings for each other and they spent every waking moment together it didn’t mean anything to the higher ups. Walking into the medical tent everyone went quiet at seeing her, Mary tried telling her that she could go and rest but Y/n just shook her head and got to work. She needed the distraction to take her mind away from the pain in her chest.

For months after she became a shell of herself, no longer laughing or smiling, no longer holding conversations with anyone, always working and taking little care for herself. And finally that day came when the war ended, everyone around her celebrated whilst she was packing up her things ready to head back home.

It had been two years since the war ended and people were still picking up their lives. Y/n was on her way to home after finishing her shift at the local hospital when a black car pulled up alongside her.

“Excuse me Miss, are you Y/n L/n?” A man asked as he got out of the car.

“I am, who are you?”

“Ah, we have a friend in common”

“We do? Wait what are you do-“

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be Miss L/n, wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Her eyes were wide as his hand tightened around her neck, her whole body trembling with fear. “Nighty night” he smirks as he presses a needle into her left arm.

Y/n woke up disoriented and dazed with her hands and ankles tied painfully tight, trying to speak but her words came out as slurred. “Ah little lambs awake. Go back to sleep little lamb” the same guy from side of the road spoke, but instead of a needle being pushed into her arm he raised his leg and kicked her straight in the face. Knocking her out instantly.

The second time she awoke was when a bucket of stale water was thrown into her face, both arms tied to arms of the chair she was uncomfortably sat in. A man infront of her smiled as she was trying to blink away the water droplets off her eyelashes.

“So you’re the precious little one that our Soldat keeps muttering about, no matter how many times we wipe his memories he always mutters your name”

“I-I don’t know who you are talking about”

“Soldat! You know him” the unnamed man shouts as if it was the most obvious thing. “Get her ready. Miss… I won’t lie to you, what’s going to happen next is going to hurt… well have fun” the man sighs dramatically and then chuckles making his way to the door, leaving her alone with four men holding guns.

Everything that happened next happened in a blur from two of the men grabbing her roughly and dragging her down the corridor, to being strapped down on a cold metal table - a meek looking man muttering something to her that she couldn’t quite understand before a large needle was injected into her arm. 

When she woke the next time she was in a small room - on the floor, that only had a chipped white framed bed with a thin mattress on top of it, she grimaced at seeing the blotches of stains. Her nose crunched upward at the nasty aroma lingering the room. Y/n flinched at hearing noises just outside, she could hear clearly that a man was laughing which caused her to back away and put her hands over her ears trying desperately to block out the sound. Not understanding why everything was amplified.

“Ah, little lamb you’re awake. I’m pleased to tell you that it’s worked, your going to be our new little asset-“

“W-what have you done to me?”

“We’ve made you stronger than any man could wish to be! We’ve made you fast-“

“What have you done!”

“Right, we’ve injected you with a special serum that’s enhanced you. Your lucky little lamb, those before you never made it past the thirty minute mark after injection. Now you’re ready for your second phase of becoming our little asset, boys… be careful with her.” The second he finished his sentence the same four men from before came in and grabbed her roughly once again.

Being dragged down a corridor and into a room she tried to beg the men to let her go, pleading with them that she had a family and they’d be looking for her, she even tried bribing them. Her begs and cries fell on deaf ears.

“Now little lamb, from what I can gather is that this chair here, a beauty in her own right isn’t actually nice to those that sit in her. She’s not exactly been kind to your little boyfriend but that’s because he tries to fight it, I’m going to be kind to you and suggest that you don’t do the same as him otherwise it will hurt more.” He waved his hand in the air lazily and the two agents that had ahold of her shoved her towards the chair, once sat they strapped her legs down and placed a strap across her chest.

“P-please stop ple-“

“None of that little lamb, it’s not going to hurt… much” he chuckles. “Try not to scream, it’ll will only annoy me”

She goes to reply when a loud buzzing sound came from both sides to her, frozen and strapped into place as two metal plates places themselves onto her face. Y/n could hear the man in a white coat start to count down from five, squeezing her eyes shut tightly she saw a blinding white light as her whole body spasmed and withered in pain. The agents all flinched as the glass behind them started to crack. Once it finished and the plates were moved away from her head, her head started to roll to the side as drool began seeping from her mouth.

“Little lamb, do you remember me?”

“W-w-where am I?” Her mouth felt like it was full of cotton wool, and her tongue felt heavy.

“What’s your name?”

“Y-Y/n”

“Do it again”

By the eighth time of having her mind wiped the window was gone, she had blood seeping from her ears and nose, her bottom half was wet. After they were done with her she was dragged back to her cell and tossed on the ground as if she was nothing.

Y/n had forgotten everything. She didn’t know who she was or where she was. They kept calling her little lamb. Crawling into the corner of the room she pulled her knees up to her chest and began mumbling incoherently to herself.

Every time she closed her eyes all she saw was a blacked out face with the brightest blue eyes.

For years she moved and breathed when they told her too, she spoke when they said, she ate when they told her to eat - not like it was much mind you.

Throughout those years she didn’t understand her purpose of why she was there, she never got to leave the place she was kept at, all she did was train and fight with those who were a lot bigger then her in height and weight.

What she didn’t realise is that she did have a purpose for those she worked for, and that she was leaving the base to do their bidding. Completely unaware that she had taken so many lives.

She didn’t know what they were injecting into her every few months was the sperm belonging to the Winter Soldier in hopes that they could create an army of pure bred super soldiers that they could use to fight and take down their enemies without themselves having to do anything. Or that the nurse who seemed to take pity on her would give her a tablet to force the innocent little foetus to never grow up in a world that it would only be used for pain and suffering.

She didn’t understand what she had done wrong, one minute she was training with the other super soldiers and then she was being hit and shocked by the batons and then dragged to the room that kept the cryostasis chambers, she pleaded with the agents that she would be good, begging them not to put her in there again but they didn’t listen. Her whole body stiffened when they gave her the option - chamber or chair.

She hated the chamber.

But she hated the chair even more.

“See you in a little while little lamb.”

Fury had told them that SHIELD had discovered a new Hydra base and that they needed to go and take it down, not even an hour later they were fifteen minutes away from touching down at the location of the base.

“Cap, it looks deserted…” Natasha said as she slid her gun into her holster.

“We still need to be cautious” Steve told them. He tapped his foot against Bucky’s to gain his attention. “You okay?”

“Don’t worry about me. Seriously punk I’m fine”

“Alright. Everyone be careful.”

They moved quietly and slowly towards the base - that had seen better days - without any trouble, getting inside they all stole quick glances at Bucky making him sigh. “No I’ve never been here before”

“Didn’t say anything Barnes”

“You didn’t need too”

As they moved further inside it became obvious that they were the only ones there, apart from a few rats running around. Steve gave the orders out, him and Wanda going together down one hallway, Bucky and Sam - which he did mainly to annoy his best friend, Natasha and Tony going off to find the computers to see if they can get anything off them.

“How long do you think this place has been empty for?” Wanda asked.

“Not sure… it looks like awhile.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are they all open?” Wanda points at cryo chambers, looking at Steve with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know? But let’s keep looking there has to be something here for us to ta-“ Wanda cuts him off with a gasp. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a woman, she’s pretty…”

“What are you- Y/n?” Wanda’s head snapped from the woman in the chamber to the blond standing next to her.

“Do-do you know her? Wait… Y/n?”

Pressing his comms button Steve tells Bucky to come to where he was, told him to hurry up, hearing the distress tone of their captain Nat and Tony also went along too.

“Steve is this the same Y/n that Bucky calls out for in his sleep?” Wanda asked, watching him nodding slowly she looked down sadly.

The team had slowly grown use to Bucky screaming and hearing him thrash around in his sleep and had even witnessed him trashing him room trying to escape, thinking and believing he was still at the Hydra base he was kept at. One night it had actually taken all of them to try and pin him down on the ground after a horrific nightmare, it took Thor to grab Mjölnir to place it on Bucky’s naked chest to pin him down and for Wanda to use her magic to clear his mind just so they could get him to calm down. She apologised profusely for it the next day but he just smiled, placed his hand on hers gently and thanked her. But every night without fail they all heard him mumbling or crying out for Y/n and none of them wanted to overstep that boundary by asking him directly so they asked Steve who this person was and all he told them was that it wasn’t his place to say anything but that she meant the world to Bucky. And after that they let it be though they were all curious.

And now Wanda was staring up at the woman who had been on her friends mind for so long, she didn’t know how Bucky was going to react to seeing her here.

“Steve?” Bucky stood at the doorway with Sam, Natasha and Tony behind him. “What’s up?”

“Buck… she-she’s here”

“Who?”

Steve watched as Bucky paled and his eyes got shinier with tears filling them. “Y/n.”

“N-no no you’re lying Steve.” His eyes moved to Wanda when he noticed her shifting from foot to foot. He knew by the look on her face that what Steve was saying wasn’t a lie.

He moved slowly to where Wanda stood, never taking his eyes off her until he stood in front of her, it wasn’t until she gave him a sad smile that he finally looked to his right. A choked sob was the only sound in the whole building. Wanda tried to grab him before he fell but it was no use, Bucky landed with a loud thud on his knees as he looked up at the woman he had fallen madly in love with in the forties. The woman he had made a promise too. A promise he couldn’t keep.

“St-Steve we need-I need to get her out of here”

“I know Buck, I know but we need to be careful, we don’t know how long she’s been in there for”

“We can’t leave her!”

“We aren’t going to leave her Barnes, just give me a few minutes to try and figure out how we’re going to get sleeping beauty out of here, okay?” Tony says before looking around the room to find a way to get her out.

As everyone moved around the room trying to find a way to get her out of the chamber Bucky stayed on his knees looking helplessly up at her. “That’s why you couldn’t find her, she’s been here”

“I tried Buck-“

“No, I know you did. H-how long do you think she’s been here for?”

“I… I don’t know”

Not long after, Tony managed to find a way to open up the door to the chamber without causing any damage to Y/n. They all shivered as the cold air hits them, Bucky took the straps off her and took her gently into his arms. His body tensed when Tony injected something into her arm. “It’s just to keep her asleep until we get back to the tower”.

Steve told him to take Y/n onto the jet so they could finish off clearing the base, they all watched as he carried her as if she was the most delicate thing in the world.

“Steve, she’s a super solider” Nat looked over at him from the computer.

“Have you found anything else about her?”

“She’s got way more kills under her belt than I do, they call her little lamb” saying that nickname made her nose scrunch up. “And… oh Steve, they’ve been injecting her with Bucky’s sperm, it never worked” Steve’s eyes burned a hole into the computer screen angry at everything that he was hearing.

“Sh-she was a nurse you know? A great one, all the men said they loved going to her because she was just the kindest of them all. She deserved so much better than this.”

“Steve she’s been in cryo for twelve years… they wrote down when they were put in and taken out, she was never taken out twelve years ago”

“Jesus. Right, gather everything you can on Y/n and I’ll meet you on the jet”

Leaving Natasha to do what she did best he went to the jet, he stood there watching as Bucky stroke his fingers through the top of her head, not taking his eyes off her face.

“I-I’ve put blankets on her from the back, she’s still freezing Stevie.”

“Buck, there’s something I need to tell you about her.”

“What is it?”

“She’s like us, she’s got the serum too. T-they were trying to impregnate her with-with your… you know, and Nat found out that she’s been in cryo for twelve years”

“T-they don’t care do they? They don’t care who they hurt or the pain they inflict, they-they’ve hurt the sweetest, big hearted person and for what? Just to leave her in there for all those years? It’s my fault isn’t it?”

“No Buck, it’s not your fault-“

“It has to be, I kept saying her name when they first got me. I didn’t want to forget her so I kept saying her name and look what happened!”

“Bucky it’s not- don’t try and interrupt me- it’s not your fault. But we’ve found her and she’s going to come home with us and we can help her”

“Did she do bad things too?” His voice was so small and quiet that it was lucky that Steve had enhanced hearing otherwise he wouldn’t have heard what his friend said.

“Yes but Buck we know her, we know she’s a good person just like you she’s been made to do bad but we can help her, I promise you”

“We’ll all defend her tin-man” Tony says, when both men look over they see the four of them nodding in agreement.

Two weeks after finding his only love and brining her back to the compound Bucky refused to move away from her hospital bed, on the fourth day Steve had to beg him to come with him to get some food - it wasn’t until his stomach growled in hunger that he finally accepted Steve’s offer, he left her with a kiss on her forehead and made Natasha and Wanda watch over her, made them both promise to ring him the second Y/n started to stir awake.

Steve then tried to get him to leave just so he could get a good night sleep or to have a shower but the brunette shrugged him off - it wasn’t until Dr Cho came in and told him to get a shower, told him that he should be clean and smell nice for when Y/n woke up. That had him running to his room and showering quickly before running back down to her.

It was better than nothing.

“Steve?”

“Mhm”

“What’s Fury going to do when Y/n wakes up?”

“Nothing, him and Tony have already pleaded her case and all she’s got to do when she wakes is give all the information she can remember. Fury is positive that she’ll be be fully pardoned and he thinks that she could be an asset to the team, that is if she wants to stay”

“W-why-do you think she’ll want to leave?”

“I don’t know Bucky”

“Would you be mad at me if I left with her?”

“No. I would be mad though if you didn’t invite me over for dinner” Bucky let out a laugh whilst he rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.

Steve and Wanda had left after spending a couple of hours keeping Bucky company as he watched over Y/n, he was just starting to drift off to sleep when he felt her hand twitch.

“Y/n? Doll?” Another twitch. “Doll, come on wake up”

Bucky shot straight up knocking the chair backwards when Y/n jumped up out of the bed, falling down instantly, he watched as she pulled herself to the wall bringing her knees to her chest, her eyes moving around the room frantically. Her voice hoarse as she mumbles softly to herself, Bucky slowly moved around the bed.

“Doll? Y/n it-its me Bucky”

“Bucky?”

“Yes, yes it’s me” she says his name again, her teared filled eyes looking straight at him. “You’re safe.”

“W-where are we?”

“Somewhere safe, I promise.”

“They will be here for me” slowly standing up, ignoring the blood seeping down her arm she moved over to Bucky. “I-I need to leave, I need to go back home, they-they’ll be mad at me”

“Y/n hey, hey stop, doll look at me, they aren’t looking for you okay? You’re safe here, I’m not letting anyone hurt you again. I promise”

“You promise?”

“I promise” Bucky moved closer as soon as she was in reach he pulled her in his chest, squeezing her tightly, repeatedly pressing his lips to her hair.

Helen came in a little later to run some checks, talking to Y/n like she was an actual person and not like she was a nobody like she was use to, when she said thank you it meant more than just a simple gesture. The next day Steve, Sam and Wanda walked into the hospital room shocked to seeing Y/n sitting up and talking to Bucky, though they had slowly gotten use to seeing Bucky coming out of his shell even after all these years of knowing him Sam and Wanda stood there watching Bucky be a whole new person, the only person that didn’t find it weird was Steve who had a huge smile on his face, happy to see his best friend finally happy and at peace now that he had Y/n with him.

When Fury got word that she was awake he came down to see her, she answered all of the questions he had as best as she could. Fury reassured both her and Bucky that nothing would happen to her.

A month after waking up Y/n hand in hand with Bucky sat in a room with the team standing behind them, Fury at the end of the table and members of the government in front of them. She was nervous to hear what punishment she was going to receive, yes Fury promised that she wouldn’t be but when Bucky finally caved and told her all of the crimes she was connected to - not only did her heart break at hearing the things that she did but she feared what kind of punishment she was going to receive, she felt like she needed to be.

“Y/n L/n you are granted a full pardon, but you will need to be a part of the Avengers-“

“That’s not what we agreed on!” Fury interrupted the man.

“It’s the best thing-“

“I’ll do it. I-I need to do it” Y/n nodded.

Bucky and Steve had to beg Tony not to throw a party to celebrate Y/n’s freedom and her new role in the team of superheroes, he reluctantly agreed but told them they needed to do something as a team for her. Bucky told him a nice meal would do, it wouldn’t push her out of the comfort zone she had created for herself, so that’s what they did. Their laughter throughout the meal bounced off the walls as Y/n was retelling her memories of the antics Bucky would get up to during camp, told them how she managed to push Steve in to the river when he refused to go into the water.

In that month Bucky had been sleeping in bed with Y/n after she begged him to stay with her, and that night was no different. The team no longer heard Bucky’s screams because he no longer had nightmares.

“Y/n”

“Yeah?”

“I never stopped loving you, you know?”

“I’ve never stopped loving you either.” She smiled up at him. Slowly their lips met, both sighing at the familiar feeling that they had been deprived of feeling for nearly eighty years.

Just as Bucky closed his eyes to get some sleep he began chuckling when he heard Y/n’s question.

“Are you still going to marry me so I can put up with you for the rest of my life?”

“I made a promise didn’t I?”

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama

[moonsaver]

Vena jugulară

War carries many things home. Jiaoqiu finds hunger. You find cures.

Warnings/tw; yan!jiaoqiu x reader, cannibal!jiaoiu, descriptions of gore, blood, veins, flesh, all of that nitty pitty, (slightly) suggestive scene, war, ooc definitely, rushed(?) etc..

A/n: 3.4k words. Not that big tbh. I kinda wanted to get it over w/ and thats all. I hope you guys enjoy. I kinda did.

- reader is a nurse who previously assisted Jiaoqiu on the battlefield to help wounded soldiers. I have mainly kept them gn, but i might have slipped up here and there.

"Doctor."

"Hm?"

Jiaoqiu hums and turns slightly to face you. His hands continue to fold the bandages. You eye the stain that's rusting on the off white shade.

"Another one."

"As usual."

A few men carry a stretcher into the tent soon after; dirtied from the filth of war. The stretcher has a man writhing and groaning in pain, but presumably passed out. His leg is injured.

Well, rather, his leg is torn.

A long tear. From the bottom of his knee, just shy of the curve, to the top of his foot. The flesh is almost cartoonishly pink, decorated with blood leaks and torn veins.

Jiaoqiu doesn't flinch, immediately getting to work, registering the anesthesia while guiding you to fetch rubbing alcohol and other surgical equipment. You silently oblige, as the other men leave, dredging on with their heavy boots riddled with mud.

A few moments later, as the last stitch tugs at the skin, Jiaoqiu sputters. You look up at him, concerned. A scruched, disgruntled look on his face, eyes still closed. You look down to see the slightest bit of mara leaking from the body.

"Even if I shall put him back together, what are the chances he may survive?"

He whispers, more to himself than asking you. You stay silent. You stare at his mouth, slightly covered in saliva, most likely from his sputtering.

He continues coughing a few moments more, handing the needle over to you as you hurriedly finish up a knot, then immediately leave to stand by him, shadowing him in worry as he continues coughing for a moment.

"Sorry. I choked on my spit."

You nod, before leaving and proceeding to finish up the work, leaving Jiaoqiu to catch his bearings.

You feel almost traitorous when you have such thoughts, however,

You've noticed an awful lot of things about your senior as of late.

His fur that's seeming to fray, split and gather on almost every surface, making it hard to disinfect and keep things sterilized for the most part. The stressful, or rather constrained look on his face when another soldier is sent his way – soldiers with flesh bursting at the seams of tight skin, blood flowering around the scene. The constant choking he feels from the heavy, thick scent of iron, and more spit dribbling down his chin.

Although, you feel it may be something else.

Granted, you don't ask. You hand him your handkerchief, and continue normally. You don't, however, miss the dilation of his usually thin pupils whenever he stares down at the man on the table. Like a starved predator upon a feast.

His eyes catch yours, too. Both of you stay silent.

–

"Hm, how.. disappointing."

You hum, Jing Yuan reverting to his pondering state, as you beat him at another round of the board game he'd invited you to.

"Battle strategies are your thing, General. I'm almost surprised. Are you letting me win, by any chance?"

Jing yuan laughs, a deep, curt sound that bubbles from his chest.

"Nurse, I would know how much fairness and certainty means to you."

"Hmm.. really,now?"

Your hand grabs his wrist, gripping onto the small guards of his arm, as you catch him trying to steal one of your pieces,

"Touchè".

You huff, letting go of his wrist, his hand languidly placing back the piece, before he repositions to lean the side of his head on it,

"Perhaps your instincts from then still remain."

"Mara struck are awfully dangerous."

"I've heard plenty. And seen, too."

"One tried to stab me with an empty syringe when I turned my back for a second."

Jing yuan hums, his hand hovering over the board decisively,

"Quite peculiar, such a trait."

"Strange indeed."

Jing yuan makes his move. It's time for you to think, now.

You lean slightly over the table, observing and calculating your moves. He continues to speak,

"Were you not infected as was the Chef?"

"Not sure why.."

You mumble out, fingers gently perched on a piece as you contemplate the move.

"You must have. That fever struck you for a month."

Your thoughts stop for a moment. Jing yuan almost smiles, watching the tension of your fingers over the piece,

"It's.. hard to remember what happened."

Your other hand creeps up to wrap around your waist, under the table. Something still faintly aches, but you aren't sure if you can fix it now.

"Chef cared for you quite arduously. That was the last time I'd seen a fox like him so ruffled."

You look up and click your tongue, as Jing yuan's fingers teeter around the pieces. He stays still and smiles, playing it off.

"I was the only one who could assist him. It's a given."

"Hm.. I've been driven to a corner."

You chuckle softly, jing yuan's eyes turning contemplative as you move your piece into position.

"Ah-ah, not so fast."

You blink, looking up at the General as he tuts, your hand hovering over your piece. Did you make a mistake?

He leans over, his hand reaching over to pick a stray hair off of your shoulder. It was short, and pink. Fur.

His hand retracts and languidly dusts it off his finger to the side. Ah, you realise,

"Must be Jiaoqiu's."

"I'd be surprised if it wasn't."

"I have been watching over that pink-haired girl.."

Jing yuan chuckles softly, shaking his head,

"He seems quite irritable since then."

"He's.. clingy. Ever since I.."

He hums, his golden eyes calculative as he decides his next move.

"What a shame."

You yawn, the settling winter thawing under the new sun making the atmosphere more comfortable than chilling, leaning back on your arms.

"I can never understand that man.."

Jing yuan makes his move, and waits for you, as he takes a sip of his tea.

"Foxians are quite interesting."

"Hm?"

Jing yuan's words pique your interest, as you slightly perk up,

"Really? What of it?"

"They react differently to mara."

The board is abandoned by now, as you listen intently, leaning forward,

"Do you know how mara works?"

He sets the ceramic cup down, the liquid in it ebbing gently from the motion.

"Foxians of his lineage have tendencies to act far too soon on their desires, from even a smidge of exposure."

..is he lying?

"It was a strange event he decided to treat such wounds in his past. With you on the line beside him."

"But, I was already working there before him."

"Indeed. That is why I.."

He stays silent for a moment. A small chuckle leaves him, as he shakes his head,

"You should be more cautious."

You blink for a moment, simply looking at him. Under the golden sunlight, it's hard to look away.

Wait.

You look down at the board, as he steadily gets up,

"Wait, you- stole the pieces-?!"

----

You sneeze, and cringe immediately.

Jiaoqiu's unreadable expression is pointed at you, as you look to gauge his reaction. You've always hated the taste of his medicine.

It was more peaceful than anything, other than the looming threat of catching the attention of your "mentor" (or as he insisted). The occasional thick scent of chili and sizzling meats settled into the air, along with the gentle draft of early spring, hints of the winter's cold lingering in the crisp air in the atmosphere. You sniffle and shift in your seat, as Jiaoqiu approaches you.

"Try."

He places a bowl of noodles in front of you. You eye it suspiciously.

"It took me a while to prepare. So don't waste it, disciple."

You look up at him, warily. His closed eyes and sly grin greet you back.

You eye the dark, rich broth that would have had your mouth watering just a few decades ago. The perfectly cut noodles paired with an assortment of seasonings of all kinds – cut meat, hints of vegetables, boiled eggs. It was perfect.

But you couldn't taste it.

Truthfully, after you became sick, nothing tasted the same as it used to.

Your palette must have dulled. You could barely taste anything. It was as though you ate the same food, everyday, every month, every year, with no change in sight. Jiaoqiu's made a bit of a personal mission to try and challenge your dull palette.

"Jiaoqiu.."

You start, softly trying to protest,

"[Name]."

He sits down across you,

"Do you remember when I first served this?"

He leans forward, his chin cradled on his interlocked fingers, knees pressing onto the table. There's a faint smile on his face.

You sigh,

"Yes, back when.. I had a terrible fever, which just wouldn't leave."

"Mhm. It was the only reason you had the energy to walk around."

You continue staring at the dish. A hint of sentimentality at least seems to spark some appetite in you.

"Hm, too soupy isn't it?"

You comment, looking back up at him

"We aren't scarce on resources anymore, are we?"

"You could learn to not alter a few recipes for sentimental value."

"And what? Feed you that ashen bowl of noodles with barely a scrap of meat or any spice?"

You sigh,

"..alright."

You pick up the stationed chopsticks from the side, and stir the noodles slightly. Jiaoqiu's smile widens, as he watches you.

"The broth looks.."

"Remember when your fever wouldn't go down at all? The high temperature was so stubborn."

You shudder at the reminder. You still remember it – the searing burn of the medicine you hastily applied, the following high temperatures and sweat, the constant discomfort of being so unutterably weak you couldn't even sit upright.

You suppose he doesn't like when you nitpick. You resign yourself to eating it quietly.

–––

The sheets are soft, and cold as your bare back settles against them, your head gently hitting the soft pillow behind you. Your fingers absentmindedly trail down to the bandages on your abdomen, tracing the tight-binded edges of it.

Jiaoqiu's back is turned to you as he readies a concoction. One of many he's tried to use to "fix" you.

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. You would have felt more awkward, more embarassed about having to lay almost half naked in your 'mentor's bed, but considering the recent flare up a few days ago, you couldn't care less.

Jiaoqiu walks around the expanse of the bedframe, and gently settles down on the other, empty side. He placed the paste on the nightstand, as his fingers reach down to undo your bandages.

There is something tender, you think, about having to lay bare under someone who has seen something so ugly, yet persist regardless. Under his fingers, where your flesh seems to either rot, or bloom. Something beautiful, if it weren't for the past pains of war still haunting you two. Something tender, if it weren't for your own flesh rotting into you.

His nose scrunches up a bit as your wound is exposed at the removal of the wraps. Foxians, especially of his kind, tend to have sensitive noses. Specifically for blood, if it makes sense.

Your age-old wound has shriveled and ached for so long, you almost wonder if it's alive on it's own. How have you been? You almost ask, every time you see it for yourself. The tainted flesh almost searing every time another paste, another cure, is desperately smeared on it. Almost as though it is offended.

Jiaoqiu stays silent, for a moment, his eyes slightly opened as he stares down. His hands have moved to your sides, as though framing your outline.

They move up, slowly, as though encasing your ribs. They expand with each breath, skin stretching and moving with the flesh alive underneath. His face slowly dips down, as if in prayer. His lips ghost the dip between your lower ribs, in ancient reverence. You wonder if he might break you open and eat your heart from the cages of your bones.

His lips trace down ghosting over the edge of your skin, where the previously infected part begins. He inhales, slowly, before speaking.

"I don't know how to fix this."

You stay silent. Your hand comes up to the side of his face, his hair tickling the back of it,

"Jiaoqiu. It's alright."

"It isn't."

You watch his face retract, his troubled gaze on your wound. The flesh has been marred and sunken.

"This isn't something you can fix."

He moves, the bed dipping as his weight shifts, the side of his face resting on your chest, one of his hands moving to your stomach, the back of his fingers grazing your skin as it moves up to the centre of your ribs.

"Bitter, sour.. distasteful.."

He murmurs, his fingers absentmindedly tracing your skin,

His face shifts, his lips resting just above your heart,

"Your blood smells like poison."

You still for a moment. His teeth graze your skin. The hot, damp breath wets your skin.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your heart beats in his ears. He longs to feel it in his mouth. His other hand, still on your side, shifts, the fingers digging into your skin.

For a moment, you wonder what the scene will reel out as ‐ your limp body, a feast under his hungry mouth. Your arteries stringing from the cave of your flesh to his mouth like a bridge, thin veins scattering and puzzling themselves in the crevices of his teeth. You hope he doesn't devour you.

For now, he resigns himself to your skin. His teeth bite. They do not draw blood yet.

---

Jiaoqiu has had more peace, recently.

Here he sits, behind you, entangling the thin stems of flowers within themselves, braiding a flower crown. His nose scrunches, and his ears flit slightly whenever you hand him a fragrant one. You chuckle whenever he comments on it. His head leans forward and rests on your shoulder, as you continue to page through recipes in his book. Medicinal ones.

"Ah, look. It's stained here."

"Hm, gunpowder?"

Jiaoqiu asks, his tail swiping your back, the curled end of it tickling the side of your face,

"I think so."

You continue paging through the recipes, before stopping on a page.

Ah. There's blood.

"Dear, how did that happen?"

Jiaoqiu muses, his fingers paused as he looks at the blood stained page.

"I wouldn't remember."

"Hm.."

The blood smells sweet, despite having sunken into the page almost decades ago. It carries a hint of vitality, still. At least, in his foxian sense.

You turn the page.

---

"Jiaoqiu!"

"Not now–"

"The nurse..!"

Jiaoqiu stops in his tracks, taking his eyes off of his station with slightly furrowed brows, towards the person who's abruptly entered,

"What is it?"

"They're ill! They've fallen to the‐"

Jiaoqiu rushes with those few meager words, swiftly walking past as he asks where you are.

Unfortunately for you, you were trying to gain your bearings on the wooden floor.

This entire month of war specifically, had torn you both down to shreds. Your inventories were looted, leaving you with scarce medicine and many maimed to look after. The enemies were bolstering their presence harshly, and closing in furiously.

Upon stumbling on a rare sight of a wounded enemy soldier, you leaned down to check if they carried anything useful – medicine, maps, anything, when you realised in your haste you should have checked for their pulse first.

And it was in that moment of realisation did you feel a sharp plunge and sting, as the soldier's arm swiftly swung and stabbed you with a small knife.

You wanted to scream, but the overwhelming pain of the intrusion, the visceral splitting of your flesh far outweighed the need to scream. You jerked away, weakly, but hastily, retreating, leaving the enemy with their last bout of energy to laugh bitterly at you.

–––

Jiaoqiu still smells poison on you.

With war came many things. A lost locket on the vast field. A lonely sword in the quiet of the night. A child asleep in front of the door, forever waiting their parent.

And with war, came your eventual poisoning.

Perhaps it was the weapon. Knives edged with venom. It could have made for a lethal weapon.

But something felt odd.

Jiaoqiu's face presses into the warmth of your stomach.

Bitter. Sour. Distasteful. Rancid. Rotting. And Defiled.

Jiaoqiu's mind often wanders to wine reds. The pulling of sinew arteries, the sharp cut of a blade through flesh. The slow leaking of myoglobin or blood through the cutting board.

Sometimes, it had wandered while he tended to patients.

Blooming flesh, at incineration of skin due to sharpnel, or burnings. The vigorous pumping of the heart at the sight of blood draining down slowly, outside it's confinement, ever so oblivious to the lethality.

Jiaoqiu had craved flesh. Flesh beyond the slaughter of a Lamb, of a Cow, of any animal.

Flesh, right under the safe confines of human ribs.

Sweet, sweet viscera of the Liver. The expanse of Lungs. The tightly wound cartilage right above and below the muscles. Bones that leaked marrow.

The heart.

But he hadn't dare consume.

With war, came hunger.

Hunger he had not experienced like any other. Hunger that devoured him whole. Hunger so vast he could feel his insides churning and dissolving for the capacity of the appetite he would need to fulfill.

A hunger for you.

Poisoned, and permanently so. It's safe to say his attempts to 'fix' you, weren't necessarily innocent.

He shifts, his face moving to your neck, nose tickling the edge of it as his lips linger on your nape. Unprotected spinal cord. His canines expose and gently press on the tender skin, the pressure increasing, waiting for the breach of the skin.

You laugh, airy and sweet.

"What are you doing?"

Jiaoqiu retracts, slightly. Staggered, shallow breathing as he struggles to restrain himself.

He stays quiet. You grow nervous at the strange silence.

"Jiaoqiu?"

"[Name]."

His head turns slightly, eyeing the open recipe book on your nightstand. The night's gentle breeze wafting through the open window agitated the pages, slightly uncovering the blood-stained page for a second.

"What is it?"

You quietly ask, sensing the slight tightness in his voice,

"You poisoned yourself."

Your breath hitches, a shock rendering your body paralyzed for a second.

What?

You shift and turn to face him. His eyes are open, staring endlessly into yours. You break into a cold sweat, his slitted eyes almost cutting through you. Your heart beats harshly in your chest, as your breathing staggers slightly.

"Jiaoqiu?"

"While concocting that medicine for yourself.."

He whispers, his hand pushing down on the pliant bed as he leans forward, making you lean back in turn,

"What are you–"

"In your haste, did you ever think to use the right ingredients?"

He's towering over you, as you look at him, eyes almost blown wide, pupils dilated, breathing heavily. You don't notice it until you realise how out of breath you feel, despite the chill of the night air causing chills on your skin.

"The.. ingredients.."

You stumbled into your tent, almost meeting the ground, your arm on reflex grabbing onto something sturdy, as you gasped and panted. Your other hand presses onto the wound on your abdomen, as you cry out, abruptly interrupted by a sharp inhale at the pain. Tears singe your eyes, but your heart is beating too loud, and you're too pained to cry yet. You grunt as you pull yourself up, your bloodied hands sifting through the cacophany of items on your own desk, shuffling in haste for something,

Eventually, you hurriedly concocted a simple but powerful herbal paste, smothering it onto the blaring and irritated, bloody wound, seeping and crying incessantly of blood into your hands as you lathered it onto the wound in great pain. You ignored the uncharacteristic burning of the paste, hurriedly trying to wrap the bandage onto yourself, before too much blood was lost.

"Do you realise? That paste.. if you messed up a single point in the recipe, you'd poison yourself. Each ingredient was selected to neutralize the other."

Erratic, shallow breaths leave you as he looks down at you. What have you done?

This is poison. This is the curse.

The curse you carried after the war. It was never mara that could affect you.

And it was the poison Jiaoqiu had longed to taste.

His face dives down into your neck again, his fangs ghosting your jugular vein,

"Do you realise what truly courses in your blood?"

A cold bead of sweat drips down from the side of your forehead. Death could possibly taste sweeter, you imagine.

"I can't wait to taste it."

And his teeth sink.

--

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shirt Swap IV

Pernille Harder x Child!Reader

Keira Walsh x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You finally meet Keira Walsh

You've spent the weeks running up to the group stages of the World Cup with the Swedish girls - for one of the first times in your life - but you flip flop between Morsa and Momma when you want to.

This is one of those times.

Momma's been put into a group with England, meaning Leah's team, meaning Keira Walsh.

It was a struggle this morning for Momma to put you in her Denmark shirt instead of a Keira Walsh England one.

Your Denmark loses and, even worse, Keira Walsh goes off injured. Your grandparents cover your eyes when it happens so you don't see her get stretchered off but you remain antsy the entire match afterwards, especially when Momma gets into a few scrapes herself.

You're allowed out of the box and onto the pitch when it's over and you tentatively approach Momma, pulling on her shorts.

"Does this mean Denmark stops playing?" You ask, biting at your lip.

"No, princesse," Momma says," So long as we win our next match, we can finish second in the table and get through to the knockouts."

You nod, pulling at your jersey. "So you're not too sad?"

"Only a little sad," She confirms, taking your hand with a smile," Come on, princesse, I think Rikke has some skildpadder just for you waiting in the locker room. How about we go eat our feelings?"

You smile as Momma brings you into the tunnel. "Morsa says that's unhealthy."

Momma winks. "I won't tell if you don't."

You giggle and nod, holding Momma's hand tightly just in case she really is upset about the loss and needs comfort.

"Luce!" Someone from the England side snaps," I can walk!"

"You're on crutches!"

"Yes! And I can walk!"

Momma seems a bit confused at the upset and hurries you along a bit quicker, hand moving to your shoulder to force you ahead of her and further down to the Denmark changing rooms.

"Hey! Wait! Harder, wait up!"

Momma stops, shoving you behind her a little bit. When you peer out from behind her legs, Keira Walsh is standing there. She's on crutches and looks to be in quite a bit of pain.

"Keira Walsh," Momma says neutrally, still keeping you pinned to her side," How is your knee?"

"Not good," Keira Walsh replies," It'll get better." She seems a bit distracted and she smiles down at you before looking over her shoulder. "Luce, G, mind helping me out here?"

Lucy Bronze and Georgia Stanway (you recognise her because Momma says that she plays at Bayern, where you all are going to be moving to after the World Cup) hold onto her as Keira Walsh takes off her shirt.

She smiles at you again. "Hi," She says," Er...Aitana sent your mums a picture with me in it. I...er...I heard she sent you some of my shirts as well."

You nod, stepping out from behind Momma.

"Well...here, I'd like you to have this one too."

"Really?"

"Course. Anything for my biggest fan."

You take the jersey and Momma helps you put it on.

You look up at Keira again, smiling. "Thank you."

Keira's smiling at you too even though she looks unsteady on her feet. "You'll have to return the favour one day, huh? When you're playing in a World Cup, I'll want your shirt too, okay?"

"How about that, princesse?" Momma says. She kneels down next to you, a hand on your shoulder. "Keira gives you her shirt now and you give her yours when you play at the World Cup. Seem fair?"

You nod. "Yeah!"

"I'll look forward to it," Keira says," I think that I'll be your biggest fan when you're older."

Your face grows a little bit red under the praise and you shift on your feet a little bit to dispel your excitement. "I don't know if I can give you my jersey when I win," You say a little apologetically," Because I already said that I'd give that to someone else. Maybe when I beat England though."

Keira laughs. "That's good by me."

Georgia Stanway laughs too. "It won't in a few years when she's scoring past us."

"I don't score." You shake your head quickly. "I save. Like Zećira."

"A keeper then," Keira says," Even better. I've never had a keeper shirt."

"I'm gonna be the best keeper," You say.

Lucy Bronze laughs and yells out," Oi! Mearps! Take off your shirt!"

Mary Earps, who has begun to make her way down the tunnel, frowns. "That's a terrible pickup line."

"Not for me," Lucy says," For Pernille's kid. She's going to be a keeper when she grows up. Says she's gonna be the best."

Mary Earps is a very good goalkeeper and, a bit like Keira Walsh, you're slightly star-struck. She smiles easily at you though and strips her shirt without a second thought, passing it over to you.

"Thank you," You say, practically whispering as you hold it tight in your hands. She's smiling at you and you feel a little bold wearing Keira's shirt and holding Mary's. "I'm going to be better than you."

It sets off a howl of laughter from Lucy and Georgia and a wry smile from Keira.

"God, I hope so, kid. I'll hold you to that."

"I will!"

Mary laughs too and crowds into your space as Momma snaps a photo before sending you off to the locker room to have your skildpadder.

"I think you all just made her week. It's all she's going to be talking about. I don't know if she'll sleep tonight."

Keira winces. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Magda's got her tonight."

[doctorbitchcrxft]

In My Time of Dying | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual ?)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, hospitals and death and fun stuff like that

Word Count: 2997

A/N: Surprise! It's time for season 2! And as an extra treat, I'm gonna publish episode 2 with this one since it's a little short. Happy reading!! Thank you guys for all the love and support!

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You were completely pinned down beneath the side of the car that had been pushed into your lap in the accident. You clung to Dean still, afraid to move your upper-half and unable to move your bottom. You listened to the slowing rhythm of his heartbeat and willed him to stay alive for you.

Your eyes opened at the sound of Sam groaning.

“Sam!” you exclaimed. 

He groaned again, moving his head a little to the direction of the sound of your voice. “(Y/N)?”

Suddenly, the hinges were ripped off the driver’s side door to reveal the demon-possessed driver of the eighteen-wheeler that had struck the Impala.

“Back. Or I'll kill you, I swear to god,” Sam stated firmly.

“You won't. You're saving that bullet for someone else.”

Sam cocked the Colt. “You wanna bet?”

You looked on in fear before the demon poured out of the man, and he collapsed to the ground. You heard the sound of the gun uncocking, and Sam dropped his head back in relief.

“Oh my god!” you heard the trucker’s voice say. “Did I do this?”

“Dean, come on,” you whined. “Please.”

Sam called his brother’s name and told the trucker to call 911. He did so despite his panic. After what felt like forever, emergency services were to you. The EMTs had to pry you off of Dean, and you wailed in agony as they moved your sore body away from him. “No, please! I have to stay with him!”

“Ma’am, don’t fight us, please. We don’t want to hurt you more,” the EMT strapping you into a stretcher and neck brace said. She began to shout your blood pressure and vitals to the uniformed people surrounding you as you called out to Dean again. “Please! Just tell me he’s okay!”

No one would answer you.

“Is he even alive?!”

***

As soon as the doctors told you you could go see Dean, you leapt out of the bed as well as you could on your throbbing leg and bruised rib cage. Thankfully, that was as serious as your injuries got. You had no idea what the Winchesters’ situations were. 

You limped down the hallway to Dean’s room just down the hall from yours and took a sharp breath in horror. Wires were hooked up to every part of him. He was intubated, and machines steadily beeped around him. His chest was exposed with electrodes hooked up to it. His forehead had a deep cut running down the center of it, and his body remained lifeless. You tentatively walked over to his bedside and sat in the empty chair next to it. You held his hand tightly and kissed it repeatedly. “Dean, you have to come back to me, please.” Tears streamed down your face.

Sam walked in the room just after you did, giving you his puppy dog eyes at the sight of you holding his brother’s hand and Dean’s body. “Oh, no,” he said.

You dropped Dean’s hand long enough to hobble over to Sam and hug him as tightly as your damaged body would allow. “I’m so glad to see you, man. Are you okay?”

He nodded. “Are you?”

“All things considered, yeah,” you replied.

A doctor entered the room behind you and Sam. “Your father's awake. You can go see him if you like.”

“Doc, what about my brother?” Sam asked.

“Well, he sustained serious injury: blood loss, contusions to his liver and kidney. But it's the head trauma I'm worried about. There's early signs of cerebral edema,” the doctor explained.

“Well, what can we do?” You looked between Sam and the doctor worriedly. 

“Well, we won't know his full condition until he wakes up.” The doctor paused. “If he wakes up.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “If?”

“I have to be honest, most people with this degree of injury wouldn't have survived this long. He's fighting very hard. But you need to have realistic expectations.”

Your chest felt like someone was squeezing the air out of you. You began to hyperventilate as you made your way back over to Dean. Using his bed for support, you eased yourself back down into the chair and picked up his hand again.

Sam looked at you sadly before exiting the room, presumably to go see his father.

“It’s gonna be fine,” you muttered. “John ‘ll know what to do. You’re gonna wake up, and I’m gonna tell you everything. You have to come back to me, so I can tell you.” Tears streamed steadily down your face. “You have to come back, Dee. You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you, man. I… I need you here. I need you.” You brought his hand up to your lips and just held it there as you sobbed. After a while, you drifted off, crying and holding onto Dean tightly.

***

It had been hours of sitting next to Dean and praying to a god you didn’t believe in that he’d wake up and this would all be over. You needed to tell him the feelings you’d been holding in for the better half of a year now. You needed him to know how much he meant to you.

You just needed to talk to him. And so, you did. “Dean, I’ve never told you this— in fact, I feel weird saying it now— but you matter more to me than anybody else in my life has. You just… you make my day better just by being in it. And I hope I do the same for you.

“Y’know, I never really hated you. You frustrated me so fucking much, but I could never hate you.” You drew in a breath. “I figured out that the reason I thought I hated you was because you challenged me. You told me you found me intimidating, but you never treated me like I was. That’s the difference between you and most other people. You’re fearless. Completely. It scares me sometimes, honestly. But you make me stronger, Dean. And I just… I hope I make you feel half as much as you make me feel. There’s so much I have to tell you when you wake up. I probably won’t say any of this to you while you’re awake— y’know, vulnerability and all that— but… I just needed to say it in case—” Your throat caught. “In case I never see you again.”

***

Another hour had gone by of you sitting with Dean. You refused to move from your spot to eat or drink or go to the bathroom. All that mattered was that you kept your eyes on him. You told yourself that if you could still feel or see him, then he was here. And that was enough.

You stared at his peaceful features. You remembered for a moment what he’d looked like sleeping, and you could almost see it now. However, the wires and tubes obstructing your view kept you grounded in the horrible reality that was the present moment: you and Sam may be leaving without him.

Your heart rate picked up as that thought crossed your mind and began to race even more as Dean flatlined.

“Help, help!” you screamed. You raced out into the hallway. “Code Blue, room 202! Code Blue!” 

Doctors and nurses immediately responded to your call and rushed behind you into the room. You watched in horror as they began to try and resuscitate him.

Sam had apparently heard your cries and ran down the hallway to you.

“Sam, he flatlined, he—” You buried your face in his chest, and he guided you into the room against the far wall. 

“Still no pulse,” a nurse said. You couldn’t bear to watch as they shocked his lifeless body.

Sam suddenly stiffened against you just as the frantic beeping of the monitors quieted. 

“We have a pulse. We're back into sinus rhythm,” the nurse said.

You let go of Sam and breathed deeply as you turned to his brother. You couldn’t get to him due to the doctors and nurses still fussing about, but you smiled briefly at the fact that he was still here. You looked up at the younger brother. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I just thought I heard something,” he said looking around confused. “It felt like Dean.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him. “What do you mean?”

“Like, he was there, just out of eyeshot or something. I don't know if it's my psychic thing or what, it— But do you think it's even possible? I mean, do you think his spirit could be around?”

You shrugged, suddenly feeling embarrassed of the things you’d admitted to Dean’s unconscious body. “Anything’s possible.”

“Well, there's one way to find out.” Sam began to leave Dean’s room. 

“Where are you going?”

“I gotta pick something up. I'll be back. Let me go tell my Dad.”

***

About an hour later, you still sat holding Dean’s right hand. You couldn’t let go now that you’d almost lost him a second time. Sam reentered the room. He was clutching a brown paper bag with an oblong object in his arms. 

“Welcome back,” you said. “What’s that?”

Sam seemed embarrassed. “I, uh, almost don’t wanna say.” He pulled out a Ouija Board.

You snorted. “Seriously?”

He ignored you and looked around the room at nothing. “Hey. I think maybe you're around. And if you are, don't make fun of me for this, but um, well, there's one way we can talk.” He sat the box and board on the floor in front of Dean’s bed. You looked on eagerly.

“Dean? Dean, are you here?” He put two fingers on each hand on the planchette. Moments later, it moved to “YES” on the board.

“Sam, don’t tell me you’re doing that,” you breathed out. “Or do, I don’t know which answer I want.”

“It's good to hear from you, man,” Sam laughed. “It hasn't been the same without you, Dean.”

The pointer began to slide around the board. “Dean, what? H? U? Hunt? Hunting? What, are you hunting?”

The pointer slid back to "YES."

“It's in the hospital; what you're hunting? Do— Do you know what it is?” Sam paused and gained his composure. “What is it?”

The pointer slid across the board too fast for you to read from your position next to Dean’s body. 

“A reaper. Dean. Is it after you?”

You watched with bated breath as the pointer slid to “YES.”

“If it's here naturally, there's no way to stop it,” Sam murmured. “Man, you're, um—” He got up from the ground and began to pace.

“No, no, no,” you said, looking over to Dean’s peaceful features. “You’re not fucking leaving me, dammit. There’s gotta be a way.”

“Dad'll know what to do.” Sam rushed out of the room, leaving the Ouija board on the ground.

You slowly stood and moved over to the board. You immediately missed the feeling of his hand in yours, even if he couldn’t hold back. You sat before the board and let out a shaky breath, placing your hands on the planchette. “Dee, you still here?”

The planchette slid to “YES” before returning to the middle of the board.

You huffed out an anxious breath. “Did you, um, did you hear what I said earlier?”

It slid back to “YES.”

“Oh, God, um, I’m sorry, I didn’t want to tell you until you were awake again,” you rushed out. “I didn’t— I’m sorry— Can you—”

“S” “L” “O” “W” “D” “O” “W” “N” the board spelled out.

You laughed shakily. “Sorry.” You paused. “Do you— Do you feel the same way?”

The planchette hesitated before sliding over to “YES.” A smile you couldn’t contain spread across your face. “Well, I sure as hell ain’t lettin’ you die now.”

Sam returned moments later carrying his father’s journal. “Hey. So Dad wasn't in his room.”

“Where is he?” you asked.

“Who knows? Maybe there's something here.” He tapped the journal before leafing through it. He stopped on the page that said “Reapers.” 

“How’s this supposed to help us, Sam? We already know we can’t kill ‘em,” you stated.

“I know, I know, I just… I thought maybe there’d be something else here. A way to… bargain with ‘em or something.”

You smiled at him sadly. Not knowing what else to say, you told him, “I know he appreciates that you’re not givin’ up on him, Sammy.”

***

Hours later, Sam had poured through almost every page of the journal. He paced around the room and began talking to Dean’s spirit. “Dean, are you here? I couldn't find anything in the book. I don't know how to help you. But I'll keep trying, all right? As long as you keep fighting.

"I mean, come on you can't, you can't leave me here alone with Dad. We'll kill each other, you know that.” He stopped and stood over you, looking down at his brother. “Dean, you gotta hold on. You can't go, man, not now. We were just starting to be brothers again. Can you hear me?”

***

You had even slept with Dean’s hand in yours through the night. Sam had gone in and out of the room a few times, but never John.

“Sam, what do we do, man?” You brushed a hand over your eyes, feeling exhausted and fueled by emotion all at once. 

He shook his head. “I’m thinkin’, okay?” he snapped.

“Sorry,” you muttered after a moment. 

“Me, too,” he said. 

Suddenly, Dean shot up and gasped, choking on the tube in his throat.

“Help! I need help!” you called into the hallway. 

***

“I can't explain it. The edema's vanished,” the doctor explained. “The internal contusions are healed. Your vitals are good. You have some kind of angel watching over you.”

“Thanks, doc,” Dean said. 

Your stomach sank knowing Dean didn’t remember what you’d said to him while he’d been unconscious, but you felt comforted knowing he felt the same way. You’d tell him when he was out of that crummy hospital gown, that somehow, he still managed to make look attractive.

Dean turned to his brother. “So, you said a Reaper was after me?”

You and Sam nodded.

“How'd I ditch it?”

You shrugged. “We don’t know. You really don’t remember… anything?”

“No. Except this pit in my stomach. (Y/N), something's wrong.”

The three of you turned your head to a knock at the door. John limped in for the first time you’d seen him since the accident. You fought the urge to start yelling at him about how he hadn’t come to see his son.

“How you feeling, dude?” John asked his son.

“Fine, I guess. I'm alive.”

John smiled sadly for a reason you couldn’t place. “That's what matters.”

“Where were you last night?” Sam was angry.

“I had some things to take care of.”

Sam scoffed. “Well, that's specific. Did you go after the demon?”

“No.”

“You know, why don't I believe you right now?”

John half-smiled despite the situation. “Can we not fight?” he pleaded. “You know, half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about. We're just butting heads. Sammy, I— I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?”

Sam cocked his head to the side. “Dad, are you alright?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I'm just a little tired. Hey, son, would you, uh, would you mind getting me a cup of caffeine?”

Sam left you and Dean with John.

“I, uh, have a thing. At a… place,” you mumbled awkwardly, leaving the room. You stood outside and waited for Sam to return, bouncing on your heels and thinking about how and when you were going to tell Dean how you felt for the second time.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by John putting a hand on your shoulder. Strangely, he pulled you into a hug. “I’m happy I ran into you in Jericho. Thanks for watching my boys.” And with that, he left. You watched him retreat back to his room for a moment before heading back in to see Dean. 

“Hey,” you said awkwardly.

“Hey,” he responded, seeming a little out of it. “What’re you nervous about?”

“I feel like the timing’s really bad for me to tell you,” you responded. "Especially with your dad and his cryptic thing he did just now."

“Well, now you definitely have to,” Dean half-smirked.

You took a deep breath. “While you were… out… I told you something.”

He looked at you expectantly.

You huffed out a quick breath. “You remember that stupid pinky promise I made you make? You told me I confuse you, and you promised to tell me why someday. Is… Are you? I mean— Jesus, I’m never like this—” 

Before you or Dean could continue, you suddenly heard Sam screaming, “Help! Somebody, help!” from down the hall. You and Dean jerked to attention and looked at each other briefly before leaping off the bed and running down the hall. When you reached the doorway, John was being taken away from Sam and Sam was shoved out of the room.

A nurse tried to shove you and Dean away as well. “No, no, no, it's our dad. It's our dad!” 

She stopped pushing you and allowed you to stay by the door.

“C’mon, John,” you muttered. “C’mon.”

“Okay, stop compressions.”

Your heart sank watching Dean’s horrified face as they called the time of his father's death.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[haakaan00502]

Ghost moved on instinct.

Running as fast as he could, just to reach the nearest camp, extraction point, medic, any source of help. His breathing erratic, his mask soaked with sweat, it clung to his face.

His chest leaning forward, his hands tucked behind Soap’s thighs, he continued to sprint. The scot had a pleasing amount of muscle and weight, but nowhere near what Ghost would struggle to carry. However, Ghost never knew that he would one day be carrying the deadweight of his most favorite person.

At that moment, where each step bore the burden of two lives, where each second is as crucial as the one before it, Ghost begged. Begged to whatever God that seemed to exist just at that moment.

He reached the nearest camp, soldiers quickly moved to assist them. They pulled Soap to a stretcher, the remaining warmth he offered mercilessly peeled from Ghost. He watched as they all withdraw to a tent, words yelled becoming incoherent to Ghost

Ghost fell, barely even being able to lift his arms up. His legs spread across the floor, the wall being his only support. He heaved, sweat and tears becoming hard to discern. His heart seemed to follow with the defibrillator.

“Clear!”

His mind, a warzone, a chamber of self hatred as he jots down every single mistake he had made. How he was so powerless against what he wanted and the duty and responsibility he had to uphold.

“Clear!”

Himself, a mess, every muscle strained, open wounds still bleeding, his heart irregular. His consciousness in a constant brink of passing out, his senses numbed he couldn’t even notice the rest of the team standing by him

“Clear!”

He, only a person, as fatigue finally catched up, as adrenaline ran out. Ghost slowly fades to unwanted rest, he cursed his own anatomy, only clinging to the thinnest of threads.

“We got a heartbeat!” The last Ghost heard collapsing with a sigh of relief.

Masterlist

[cheriladycl01]

I have just got into F1 and it’s fast become my autistic hyperfixation and I’m glad I’ve found writers like you! I was wondering if maybe you could write something for Nico? He’s my favourite! Maybe reader has a bad crash or something similar to your heat fic where reader faints into his arms/ has a febrile seizure from dehydration and heat stroke after a race? Just lots of hurt/comfort. No worries if it doesn’t inspire. Thank you for doing what you do 💕💕

The Toughest Race so Far - Nico Hulkenburg x Driver! Reader

Plot: After one of the toughest races of your life, you and Nico need to have serious conversation about your health.

A/N! 1) I'm hoping i got the right Nico and you didn't want Nico Rosberg! If you did, let me know and I'll right one for Nico Rosberg! 2) As someone with ADHD, i 100% get the hyperfixation and how much it grips you!

You were getting out the car, well trying to and your legs and arms refused to work. It was like they were actually glued to the seat. You just sat there, head ringing not really sure what to do and how to gp forward.

Some of the Stake Team come up to you, checking to see if you were actually alive in the cockpit or if you'd passed out. Your own team hadn't come and found you yet.

They start to try talk to you but nothings going in, and staying in so your communication is ineffective.

You feel void of anything and all the sounds around you are blurring into one. There's a numbness in your hands and legs that is burning but also non-existent, like numbness should be. It was confusing for your mind that had just gone through that uphill battle of a race.

It was like your body was failing on you and you could only sit back and watch it.

Eventually your team, of RedBull come over to you. Not that you could tell the difference between the Stake Suits and the Red Bull ones at this point, faces were just blobs right now and your mind couldn't comprehend colours.

They reach in to help lift you out so your stood up outside the car leant against the body. One of the mechanics has a hand resting on your arm keeping you steady while another reaches to take your helmet off and another goes for you balaclava that's covered in saliva.

However, the minute your legs are left to work for themself with out the support they starts to wobble. Your head starts to spin, and your vision blurs, the last thing you could remember being your body convulsing before you smacked the door where you continued shaking.

"Oh my god! Someone help her!" someone exclaimed as they saw you on the floor and seconds later a medical team that were already on their way heading towards you after being radioed by the team you weren't looking too great.

There were people flooding around you, one of them opened up your race suit that was drenched through.

"Babe?" a voice called as Nico jumped out his car spotting you thrashing on the floor. He himself wasn't feeling great from the heat either but you'd just managed to fight your way from P20 all the way up to P6 to get in the points.

It was probably the drive of your career having set the fastest lap, fastest pit stop and received driver of the day. Despite all the podiums, wins and poles you'd had, this was the drive.

He looked over you as they took you onto the stretcher as you were unresponsive.

"What's wrong with her is she okay?" he asks walking over closer to the medics that were surrounding you.

"We aren't sure but we need to get her to the medical tent right away, please go back to your team!" one of them says while they fit an oxygen mask around your mouth.

Nico spent his entire debrief not really concentrating on what anyone was saying, he wanted to be out of that room as soon as possible and to see how you were doing.

The minute that they concluded what happened in the race and how they can prepare better for hotter races as a team until the FIA but things into place, Nico was out the door as rushing past the Red Bull motorhome that was pretty quiet. They could all tell he was looking for you, and he just knew you were still with the medics from the look on everyone's face.

He rushed into the tent seeing you calmly sleeping but hooked up to a few different machines. The main one an drip, he knew you must be insanely dehydrated, and with your body temperature already struggling to regulate normally he couldn't imagine how much like hell that car felt to you.

"Is she okay?" he asks the nurse that was currently re-doing the braid in your hair that had gotten a little knotty under your helmet.

"Yes, she scared us all but she'll be fine. She's making a speedy recovery thanks to the doctors quickness and efficiency. She lost 6kg in that race which is very dangerous and she didn't drink anything at all during that race, so we've got her on some water and stuff that will pep her up. She had a minor injury to her shoulder where she fell but other than that she's okay. How long have you guys know she struggles to regulate her body temperature?" she explains and asks all in one.

"Since she karted, but she loves the sport to much" he chuckles. You'd talked about this with Nico a lot, you had to train your body harder and be stricter when it came to things like exercise and diets because of the condition.

Nico had said many times that it would be safter for you to stop racing all together but that had caused far to many arguments that he'd ended up on the sofa one to many times over.

He knew you loved racing, because he did as well and he hated when he had to leave the sport when no seat was available. So he knew it was something that wouldn't even be on the table for you to consider but he just wished you would.

For your guys' future, he just wanted you safe and at full health.

"She terrifies me when she gets into that car" he smiles looking down at your peaceful body.

"I can imagine, but ... I'm sure you scare her too. She struggles but I think honesty that makes her a better driver, she knows her limits and breaking points better than anyone. Today was a bade race that I cant see them doing at the same time of year ever again, and there may even be regulation changes that'll help. But ... take it from a career passionate woman. She wont give this up" she smiles to him and he glances down at you with his own smile.

"Oh I know she wont" he grins, taking your hand in his.

"Hey baby" he smiles as he sees your eyes flutter.

"Hey" you say back a little confused, looking around the room your in.

"You fainted and had a seizure" he explains grabbing your hand and rubbing his thumb over his knuckles.

"Oh, it was really hot in the car I don't think I ate before the race either because I felt sick!" you offer trying to explain why you were so badly effected.

"You weren't the only one that struggled, Alex, Esteban, Logan and a few others have been down here too. You pushed yourself a lot in that drive, but there's talks of the FIA making some changes for next year!" he explains.

"Mmm, I'm glad their taking action to make it safer for us!" you admit.

"I'm not even going to bother trying to convince you to retire!" he laughs shaking his head.

"We've talked about that before, you know I'm not ready yet. I've been given such a shot in Red Bull!" you smile, knowing he finally understood your view on your career.

"I know, I just worry about you!"

"I worry about you too" you say and pull him down into a kiss.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313

[mistyresolve]

| His Foresight - Simon “Ghost” Riley X Medic!Reader (Part 1)

Word Count - 3k 

Summary - Doc (y/n) is a medic at a base camp when they meet Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley, when they meet for a second time it is because he’s been injured. During the two weeks it takes him to fully recover they develop an unspoken friendship. Simon’s next assignment is to escort a convoy across enemy lines, which would have been a walk in the park if they weren’t a part of that convoy. Even worse is when his worries and fears become real. 

Tags/Warnings - Blood and Injury, Depictions of war and violence, Explicit Language, Character Death, Trauma, Opioids (they’re prescribed but i just want to add this in case), Slow Burn, Eventual Smut  

A/N -  im working on part 2 rn but it may take a little time for me to finish and upload but im in the middle of finals and have been busy with studying so please forgive me  

Masterlist  ❤︎  Tag List Form

The first time Ghost came through your tent he was bringing in his comrade, Soap, for medical attention. It was a gunshot to the arm but nothing detrimental. A clean shot and the bullet had gone right through.

Ghost had remained quiet and observant but answered any questions you had about the wound. 

“When did this happen?” 

“Half an hour ago. Give or take.”  

“Any meds?” 

“Shot of adrenalin.” 

You had sewen up the gunshot and nursed Soap back to health. However, Mr.MacTavish had been a difficult patient and after a week you discharged him early just to get him out of your hair. On multiple occasions you caught him trying to escape, claiming he was fine and ready for combat at least once a day. Most special ops were deluded like that, most thought they were superhumans. In a way, they kind of were with the speed at which they recovered. You would never tell them that. It would just go to their head.   

Your tent has since been upgraded to a deployable field hospital. With a total of 50 beds and 15 staff members. 

The second time Ghost made his way your way was on a stretcher. It was a deep and disturbing stab wound to his side, and if it were even an inch deeper it would have punctured his lung. It took you the whole two weeks he needed for recovery to get the full story out of him. Apparently, it was a series of unfortunate events which resulted in a hand-to-hand scrabble. He’d dominated his opponent and came out victorious but not without injury. He’d been all on his own for hours before finally making it to Exfil. In those few hours, he lost a lot of blood and was without any sort of analgesic until he was in the helicopter on his way here. Whatever the field medic had given him for the pain was enough to completely incapacitate the beast of a man. All the same, it was doing its job and controlling the pain. Your team had to do an emergency surgery at the base camp because he wasn’t stable enough for a medivac to a major hospital. 

The man was in a foul mood when he awoke the next day. He wasn’t rude and uncivilized, but he made it clear the last place he wanted to be was bedbound in a field hospital. When it was mentioned he was going to be sent back home for recovery, he downright refused.  

Strangely enough, it was also the first time you saw his entire face. When he first came in you were so amped on adrenalin and stressed that you didn’t register that his mask had been removed. It was immediately established that no other personnel apart from the small 3-man team already working on him would be allowed to interact with him to ensure his identity remained confidential. It was more for their safety than his if everyone was being candid. Even in his charts any identifiers were redacted and replaced with “John Doe”. 

Two days post-op he insisted he be relocated to his barracks because he “could handle his own”. You compromised and told him you’d allow it under the one condition that he lets you come and check on him at least once a day. He did, but he didn’t exactly have a choice either because you would have shown up anyway. 

That was where you were right now. 

You knocked and waited for a response before letting yourself in, your supplies and kit in hand. It was just after noon when you arrived. You scanned his room. It was clean, almost barren. His blinds were half open, and the window cracked to let in the cool, fresh air. The clothes he was wearing when he came wounded were still in the biohazard bag we gave him when he left. The tray of food on the desk beside his bed was left untouched, and judging by the food variety it was from breakfast. 

Upon hearing your arrival Ghost had forced himself into a sitting position. His face flushed with the change of position. His dark eyes were rimmed red from a lack of sleep, and his facial hair was growing. He was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants with the insignia of his old company and a plain black shirt. The shirt was loose and thin, but it did nothing to hide the muscle hiding underneath.   

You rolled your eyes, blew out a breath, tossed your bag onto the bed beside him and pulled out the rolling chair at his desk to sit in front of him. 

“You look like shit,” you knocked his elbow in a silent demand to lift his arm. 

He grimaced but did it without complaint, “Ya, well I feel like shit.” 

You lifted his shirt to get a look at the bandage underneath. There wasn’t any shadowing or blood seeping through so you gave him a quick nod before dropping the shirt, “Have you taken anything?” 

He jerked his chin to the little orange bottle on his desk, “One of those.” 

You picked it up to read the label, Oxycodone 10 mg OD.  

“Nice, but you should be taking it with food,” you tilted your head in the direction of the untouched food. He merely shrugged, his eyes weary. His eyes turned the same golden brown of a whiskey glass in the sunlight.  

You discreetly took his respiratory rate before moving on, “Any side effects? Nausea? Headache? Upset stomach?”  

“Nope,” he said in exasperation. He leaned back onto his elbows, his long body stretching out across the width of the bed with his legs still hung over the side in preparation for you to change his dressings. 

You gave him an unimpressed look, before pointing to the garbage bin he had at his bedside. There wasn’t anything in it but it was placed here in preparation,  “If you aren’t going to be compliant I’m going to bring you back to the infirmary.”   

“It came and went already. I’m fine,” he moved to lift his shirt, hinting at you to hurry up get the dressing change done and leave. 

You scooted the chair closer, preparing your materials and supplies on his bedside table. When you removed the bandage and revealed the stitches you clicked your tongue, he hadn’t pulled any of them but the fact that it was still bleeding made it apparent he’d been more active than he should have been. 

“How’s it lookin’ down there, Doc?” He rolled, his gaze following your movements with predatory grace. You glowered at the nickname. 

You hummed, “Mhm.” and started cleansing the wound with saline before donning gloves and cleaning it more thoroughly. He hissed at the contact and you looked up, he had pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. His body tensed, and his muscles taut. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find him attractive. Alluring even. Especially when he was in this position, and had that look on his face.  

“Are you going to survive?” You asked pulling back slightly.

“Just cold s’all.” 

He made it through the rest of the dressing change without so much as a flinch. In fact, he might have fallen asleep near the end for a second. He didn’t open his eyes until you finished securing the gauze with the last piece of tape. His lids were heavy and his mouth was pulled down into a slight frown. 

“You going to eat lunch?” you tugged off your gloves and threw them into the bin beside you. 

He nodded sluggishly and laid back on the bed, folding his hands over his abdomen. Maybe the Oxycodone was making him drowsy, but he looked like he desperately needed rest. 

“Did you sleep well last night?” You rolled back on the chair, giving him space. He shook his head. You quickly finished cleaning up any remaining supplies or trash before filling out his chart, “Maybe if you didn’t keep reopening your wound you’d be healing faster and sleep better.”     

He replied with a quiet, almost boyish chuckle, “I’ve been behaving, don’t worry.” 

“You’ve been nothing but extra paperwork,” you retort, tapping his leg with your foot. You stood with a snap of your notebook. “What do you want to drink with your lunch?” 

“Just water,” his eyes remained closed and you made your way for the door, bringing his cold breakfast with you. 

You returned with a new tray of food, this time you picked foods that would be easy on the stomach. The damn fool must have smelt it as you walked down the hall with it because before you could knock he was opening the door and stepping aside to let you in. 

“Such a gentleman,” you tapped his shoulder as you passed. 

He seemed to perk up at the brief contact, “As always.” 

You placed his tray on the table before picking up your bag to get ready to leave for the day, “Any last request?” When you turned to face him your cheeks heated at the way he regarded you. His face softened, melting into something akin to respect. He was so expressive and you didn’t think he was aware. Perhaps it was because he had grown accustomed to the protection of his mask. You almost didn’t wait for his answer before taking your leave, making an excuse that you needed to report back. You did, but it wasn’t anything urgent, you just needed to get out of his room. Away from him. If only to remember how to breathe. 

The process for the following two weeks was the same, only each day you stayed a little longer. You talked a little more. Despite his reputation, he was… normal. He was a little aloof and standoffish at times, and horribly, criminally unfunny, but he grew on you. You were slightly upset and maybe even a little scared you’d never see him again when you officially discharged him. Even worse, you were scared to see him again. Only, every time he returned from a mission he would come to pay you a visit. You might have considered calling him a friend. Might have considered wanting more from him.  

Soap would sometimes occupy Simon, having made a connection with you of his own. A different type of connection, but a wholesome one. Soap had made a jest about just recruiting you as the 141’s personal field medic instead of bothering you at work every other week. Simon had shot the idea down like water on a fire, and the topic was never brought up again. He simply stated, “Never letting that happen.” 

He had his reservations about you entering an active warzone, let alone going on assignments with a squad like the 141. He’s never outright said it but he developed a soft spot for you. Over the months he had unintentionally carved a hole in his chest just for you; a place where he could protect and watch over you. His fondness for you only made it all the harder when he received the 141’s next assignment. It was a regular convoy escort but he felt sick when he read your name on the list. He even went so far as to double-check the itinerary with Captain Price. Went so far as to try and get you removed from the assignment. When you learnt of what he was doing you cornered him and chewed his head off. You understood his trepidations and his actions, but both of you knew he was out of line when he tried getting you booted from the mission. 

The convoy, mainly consisting of medical personnel, equipment, and supplies, would be moving right through enemy lines to get from your current base to a new one a few towns over. It would be dangerous, you weren’t naive, but you were your own person. You were simmering, but you couldn’t help the twinge of regret for yelling at him. 

In the days leading up to the mission Simon had grown distant, but remained watchful of you. He kept quiet, but you could see it in the shadow of his eyes, and in the muscles between his shoulders that he had a lot to say. 

There was a total of 5 medical personnel that were being transported, yourself included. You would be a vehicle with Butters, who was elected as the head medic for the new base, and your driver was going to be none other than Captain Price. 

As everyone was preparing to leave and loading up the last supplies, you caught Price and Simon in a quiet conversation, you couldn’t hear their exchange but you could tell it was heated. Price rolled back on his feet, fixing Simon with a tight-lipped smile before shaking his head. With that Simon backed away from him, pointed a finger at him saying one last thing before he turned and stalked towards the vehicle he would be in, obviously unsatisfied with Prices’ response.   

Butters sidled up next to you, his pack slung over his arm and offering you yours in his other hand, “There has been a slight change of plans,” he sighed, “Our voyage is now split into two days, we'll be staying overnight in a town in between. Our route hasn’t been completely cleared yet.” 

You turned your attention to him, your brows furrowing, “So they want us to have a sleepover behind enemy lines?” You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. 

Butters shrugged, seemingly unbothered by the turn of events. Butters always seemed to keep his thoughts and feelings close to his chest, but it was clear very little invoked thoughts and emotions out of him. He enlisted when he was 18 years old; he was 32 now with a wife, 3 kids, and another on the way. There was a high probability he would be asking for leave in the next couple of months so he could be there for his next child's birth. It sucked because he was the only other medic you were close with. You’d miss him. 

Butters and you jumped into the back seats of one car with Price, you’d be in the middle of the convoy, Ghost, Soap, and another medic in the other would take the rear, and Gaz and Roach would be in another vehicle at the front. There was also a total of five transport trucks. The convoy would be a giant target as we passed through, which is why the 141 was tasked with our protection.   

Price explained that the ride would be slow-moving and briefed the two of you on what to expect. He instructed you both to stay alert and that there was a chance of running into a hostile.   

The first couple hours were incredibly boring, but Butters alleviated some of it by tasking you with going over the manifestation of everything you guys were hauling with you. You also made conversation with Price about his last leave, he had returned home and “sat on the patio and smoked cigars” for two weeks.

 The sound was louder than anything you ever experienced in your life. You didn’t even have time to scream before the force of the detonation knocked you unconscious. 

It couldn’t have been longer than a couple of minutes when you finally regained consciousness. The vehicle was now completely upside down, the wheels still spinning as they faced the sky. The seatbelt was the only thing keeping you from landing face-first into shattered glass and rubble. 

In front of you, Price was already pulling himself out the window and onto the street. He looked back into the cab and for you and said something. 

Nothing was processing right. Not his words. Not your thoughts. Not the sight before you. Everything was foggy, as if it was a dream. 

Price reached back for you, bracing you with an arm before releasing your seatbelt. Your knees cracked as they hit the roof, the glass ripping through your uniform. The pain didn’t even register. Price hauled you out with him before going back in for Butters. 

Only he didn’t. 

Instead, he returned with his gun. Before he could stop you, you crawled back in for Butters to get him yourself. 

You froze. There was no saving him. There was almost nothing left. 

He was on the same side the anti-vehicle mine went off. 

You slowly backed out, shaking your head not believing your own eyes. 

Price was crouched beside you, his back to the vehicle, his eyes revealed no emotion. 

You looked back down the road you had just come down and the transport truck that was tailing you had stopped before entering the intersection. Beside them was the truck that Ghost and Soap were in. Ghost was jumping out, his gun drawn. Soap slid from the passenger seat to the driver's side. The medic they were escorting jumped out the back and ran for the transport truck. 

It was then you noticed that Price was shooting at something down the intersection. You could see the flash as the bullets left the barrel and smell the gunpowder, but you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t hear anything. 

You brushed your fingers to your ear and when you looked at them they came away red. Blood.

The sheer force of the blast ruptured your eardrums. 

You watched as Ghost applied suppressing fire and sidestepped in time with the truck as Soap rolled it into the intersection.

Price looked over his shoulder at you, his mouth moving. You could see it in his eyes the moment he connected the dots and caught that you couldn’t hear he turned to Ghost. Who jerked his head towards you and met your gaze. His eyes were wide, panicked. He ditched the cover of the truck and sprinted over while Price took over the covering fire. He slid into you, his gloved finger coming up to grab the sides of your face. He was gentle but urgent as he turned your head from side to side to inspect the damage. 

You caught your reflection in one of the side mirrors, and couldn't recognize the person staring back at you. Their expression cataonic. Blood leaked out their ears, down their neck, and blood dripped out of their nose. Their teeth had gone through their bottom lip from the impact of the blast.  

A low ringing began as sounds started to come back to you. Then it turned into an agonizing peal like you had stuck your head in a fire alarm. Ghost didn’t give you a chance to cover your ears because he was already pulling you into his chest, pressing one ear into his chest, and covering the other with his free hand. Using his remaining hand he raised his gun and pulled the trigger. 

Soap pulled their truck up next to yours, making a barricade with them. He slid out, being careful to keep his head down and ready to join the fight. 

Ghost started walking back towards the buildings behind, using his body to shield you from stray bullets. He smelt of gunpowder, sweat, and dust. He smelt familiar. His hard body against yours felt familiar. You felt the reverberation of his voice in his chest as he yelled something. You stumbled back with him as he moved, but he was practically carrying you at this point so you wouldn’t fall. His gun dangled at his hip. Soap was at the door to the nearest building, kicking the door open, the lock shattering. 

The ringing in your ears was still present but you make out their muffled yelling as the rest of them filed in. Ghost sat you down at the far wall and behind rows of shelving units. Price and Soap guarded the entrance.

Price started talking into his radio, “Gaz! We got enemy fire coming from southwest of the fire hall. We’re down one and another has been wounded. We are fresh out of wheels, they planted fucking mines,” he yelled into his radio over the sound of oncoming and outgoing gunshots.  

“We’re on our way,” Gaz’s voice replied through the Ghost radio that was attached to his shoulder.  

Ghost then knelt back down in front of you and swore. His hands shook as he reached for a rectangular pack at his hip, a little red insignia printed on the front. A med-pack. He dumped its contents onto the floor, rummaging through it until he found what he was looking for. 

He lifted your leg and started wrapping your thigh, but not before you saw what he was swearing at. There was a two-inch gash in your leg exposing raw flesh and muscle underneath. 

“That’s not good,” you breathed. It felt like your throat was torn to shreds; as if you had inhaled the explosion itself. 

“You’re fine,” he didn’t look up as he wrapped. It was tight enough that it hurt and you could feel your heartbeat crashing against the pressure. Despite that, the bandage wasn’t going to last.

You choked a laugh, “You might want to get out your, ‘I told you so’s’ while you still can,” You meant for it to come off as nonchalant but your voice quivered. 

“You’re fine,” he repeated. 

“I left a kit in the back seat,” You sucked in a sharp breath when he pulled the gauze one last time to tie a knot, “I don’t know if it survived though.” 

Because it was right next to Butters before the mine tore through the side SUV he was on.

Before I could say another word, Ghost was moving towards the door. Requested for an update, then asked for covering fire before exiting the door. He returned moments later with the kit. When he brought it over he made sure to place it behind him so you couldn’t see the condition of it. You imagined it to be macabre. 

As the adrenalin pumping through your body drained it began to tremble, cold rushing into your bones. Blood was already starting to dot the surface of the bandage. 

“Powder,” You instructed Ghost. He moved fast, cutting the bandage away with the blade he pulled from its sheath at his thigh, and tearing open the packaging. It was a quick-clotting powder used to stop the bleeding. 

You were no doubt in shock because you couldn’t feel the pain anymore. He rewrapped your leg; somehow, it was even tighter than before. You heard Gaz give an update over the radio, asking for more details and you could hear Price relaying the plan. 

Your breaths became shallow and sedated, your strength ebbing away. You fought the urge to close your eyes in fear of never opening them again. 

Ghost tapped a hand on your cheek, “Don’t be falling asleep on me, now Doc.” 

You were barely able to ground out a “Sir, yes, sir,” before your chin hit the front of your chest and succumbed to the darkness pulling at you.

Part 2 

Masterlist  ❤︎ 

[dilemmaontwolegs]

For a snapshot imagine a driver accidentally hurting the reader and she has to hide it from Danny because he would lose his shit. He gets worried but a bit angry that she’s lying the cause of it. Once he finds out he wants to kill the other driver because is a severe injury

The Taste of Temptation || DR3 {4}

WC: 1.6k F1 Masterlist Story: One || Two || Three || Four || Five Snapshots One || Two || Three || Four || Five

You settled into the driver’s seat of an Aston Martin used for hot laps, keeping your arms out of the way while you were harnessed in. Lando and Oscar doing the same in the other two cars parked beside you, except they didn’t need the extra help to be buckled in. “I’m telling you now, this is a bad idea. I want that on the record. There’s a reason I’m a passenger princess.”

“You’ll be fine,” Lando promised over the headset and you fiddled with the dozens of buttons on the steering console. “Just don’t touch anything!”

“You should have told me that before.” The cameraman sat beside you laughed nervously and you narrowed your eyes at the lens. “If I die, I want you to remember this: I told you so.”

You muttered under your breath that you were not paid enough for the crap your employer put you through but it only made Oscar and Lando laugh as the microphone picked it all up. 

“Okay, we’ll start off with a warm up lap, just take it slow and get used to the car,” Oscar said as Lando led the way onto the track. “I’ll follow so you don't get lost.”

“It’s a flippin circle, Piastri, how often do you get lost?”

The car shot forward, throwing you and the cameraman back into your seats as you pressed the accelerator and out of reflex you slammed your foot on the brake to counter the effect. Oooph! The air was squeezed from your lungs as the car stopped but your body kept going forward, the harness like a wall hitting your chest. 

“I think you’ve put it in race mode. Turn it to sport mode.”

You scanned the buttons and saw what he meant, making the adjustment before tentatively touching the accelerator, gently speeding up to 70mph.

“I know we said take it slow but you can speed up a little bit,” Oscar teased as he tailgated you, Lando nowhere to be found up ahead.

“You do realise I am not actually a racer? I just date one.”

“Danny must have taught you something in the last two years.”

“Yeah,” Lando interrupted with a giggle. “But from what I heard, it isn’t anything to do with racing.”

You might have laughed if you weren’t concentrating so hard on following the track, until something caught your eye. “Uh, Oscar, are there wombats in Canada?”

“No…that’s a groundhog.”

Another brown ball of fur charged across the track and you screamed as you slammed on the brakes, not wanting to hit the poor animal. Oscar hadn’t expected you to brake so suddenly, or try to swerve aside. There was nothing you or he could do when you started to spin out, straight into the space his car was aiming for.

“Shit, shit, is she okay? Is she okay?” 

You could hear the panic in Oscar’s voice as he tried to push his way through the crowd of first responders trying to open your door. Pain radiated down your arm but other than that you seemed to be in one piece, except the world was upside down. “I told you so.”

“What the hell happened!” Lando exclaimed as he arrived at the crash site in time to see you escorted into the back of the medics van. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Not particularly,” you murmured around the tube you bit between your teeth. You sucked in another deep breath of pain relief as your arm was jostled and looked up to see Lando shaking his head.

“Not you,” he said as he looked at Oscar’s pale face. “Daniel’s going to kill you, mate.”

“No, he’s not,” you huffed as you got off the stretcher you had been guided to. “I’m fine so he’s never going to know.”

“You see those,” Lando stabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Those are cameras, they record things, pictures, sounds. Yeah, he’s gonna know.”

“I know what a camera is, a heavy one just fucking hit me.” You cradled your arm to your chest and took a calming breath. “This wasn’t live so it’s going to be a few weeks before this even gets uploaded. By then I’ll be fine and we can all have a laugh about it, alright. I just need to make sure Danny doesn’t hear about it before then.”

“Kind of hard when you need to go to the medical centre.”

“Then I won’t go.”

So you didn’t.

You did however accept the box of pain relief and advice to see a doctor if the pain persisted or you showed any signs of a concussion. You weren’t worried so much about that since the helmet had protected your head, it was just your arm that took the brunt of a camera smashing into it.

Daniel was surprised to see you already in the hotel room when he arrived from his meeting. Usually you stayed at the paddock later in preparation for the upcoming races but he was happy to have a few extra hours alone with you.

Leaning across the back of the couch, he greeted you with a kiss but you pulled away as his palms trailed down your body. His touch had been soft but you had still felt the burst of pain in your arm and you were glad to be wearing a long sleeve shirt to hide the bruised skin.

He frowned at the distance you had put between your bodies and he was instantly on edge. “What’s wrong, kitten?”

“Nothing, I’m just not feeling very good.”

He grabbed his phone and opened the app that monitored your monthly cycle before closing it with a frown. “Should I call for a doctor? Do you have a fever?”

He reached for your forehead but as his hand lifted it brushed against your arm and your face pinched as a pained cry hissed through your teeth.

“What happened?” he asked with barely restrained rage, his fingers desperate to touch you but unsure if it was going to cause you more pain. Tears were already welling in your eyes as you tried to keep the ruse up, but it was becoming unbearable.

“There was an accident,” you admitted as the wet streaks ran down your cheeks. “I didn’t want you to worry…”

“You’re hurt, kitten, of course I’m going to fucking worry.” He swiped the room key back up from where he had tossed it along with his phone and keys. “Come on. We’re going to the hospital. Now.”

You knew he was fuming from the clipped tone and the white knuckle grip he had on his keys. Reaching out with your good hand, you laced your fingers with his and whimpered into his chest. “I’m sorry.”

Daniel gently wiped the tears from your cheeks before kissing your forehead with a shaky breath. “I’m not angry at you, love, but don’t you ever lie to me again, not when it comes to your health.”

You nodded meekly before he reached for the door handle where he paused. “Lando or Oscar?”

“What?”

“You were filming with McLaren today.” He looked back at you, scanning your face for the truth. “Who do I blame?”

“It was an accident. Please, Danny, can we just go? It's so sore.”

His eyes softened at the admission and he twisted the handle but you knew the conversation wasn’t finished, merely delayed.

“He broke her fucking arm!”

The wince had nothing to do with the doctor setting the cast on your arm and everything to do with Daniel’s voice out in the corridor. He had been on the phone the instant the X-ray came back and showed a clear fracture down the bone. Now you were going to have a bulky accessory on your arm for the next six weeks.

“You’re lucky it was only her arm or I’d be on my way to jail by now,” he growled as he pushed the door open and shoved his phone back in his pocket.

“It was an-” you fell silent under the glare you knew wasn’t actually directed at you. He hated to see you hurt and hated he hadn’t been able to prevent it. It left his hands trembling with rage.

“I don’t know what they were thinking,” he muttered as he fell into the chair beside your bed and lifted your good hand to his lips. “Stupid fucking little videos...promise me no more.”

“But it’s my job.”

“Then quit,” he offered, like it was the simplest option in the world. “It’s not like you need it, I take care of you already, and I like taking care of you.”

“Danny…” you sighed, unsure how to approach the situation. “What if we ever broke up?”

“Is that in your plans?”

“No, but-”

“Good, because I plan on keeping you forever, and I’m more than happy to make that official. Obviously this is just a placeholder until we get home.” He started to pull the ring he wore on his pinky finger. “What? I’m terrible at losing shit, I wasn’t going to carry around your engagement ring until I found the right time to propose to you.”

You chuckled as he waited for your hand to unfurl from the fist it was in. “And you decided this was the right time?”

“I could have lost you today, kitten, I’m not going to waste another moment.” Your hand uncurled and the warm metal slid onto your ring finger before he kissed it and leaned in to kiss you too. “You’re mine, always.”

“Always,” you promised against his lips.

“Perfect, if we elope today I’ll get conjugal visits when I kill Oscar.”

Click here for part five

[simply-whump]

Live Surgery Room (手术直播间) - Whump List

Whumpees : Su Yun played by Dai Xu and Zheng Ren played by Vin Zhang

Synopsis : Zhen Ren is a surgeon who succeeded in achieving his father's dying wish. With the help of ER director Pan, he joined Haicheng Hospital. Zheng Ren devoted everything to being a doctor, and his skills caught the attention of genius doctor Su Yun, who began to study Zheng Ren's methods. Su Yun comes to accept and admire Zheng Ren as a colleague. In order to treat a case of conjoined twins with arrhythmia, Zheng Ren and Su Yun join hands to form a team formed by a group of medical professionals (MDL)

Genres : Medical, Drama, Bromance

Warning! Possible spoilers below!

Su Yun

Ep 1-2 : None

Ep 3 : (26:20) Hand shaking

Ep 4 (36:40) Hand shaking, recalling painful memories

Ep 5 : None

Ep 6 : (32:15) Passes out drunk — (34:30) Brought to the hospital in an ambulance because he drank too much 

Ep 7-8 : None

Ep 9 : (49:35) Hands shaking

Ep 10 : None

Ep 11 : (31:25) Talking with Zheng Ren about his shaky hand and the fact that he can’t operate anymore, teary-eyed

Ep 12 : (40:25) Passed out (off screen) after working a lot, unconscious on a couch, concern for him, given medicine by Zheng, talking in his sleep

Ep 13 : (05:30) Watching a video of himself fainting (from the previous episode) (semi-comedic)

Ep 14 : None

Ep 15 : (Flashback) (27:10) Worried for his mentor — (Present) (27:30) Crying, hand shaking 

Ep 16 : None

Ep 17 : (42:15) Hand shaking

Ep 18 : (04:00) Teary-eyed, crying

Ep 19 : None

Ep 20 : (07:13) Teary-eyed (Just two bros stargazing together with background music)

Ep 21 : (33:20) Caught in the aftershock of an earthquake, running away, building collapses on him, concern for him — (34:35) Unconscious under some rubbles, wakes up coughing (Gif Set), slowly moving, crawling through the rubbles 

Ep 22 : (02:55) Forced to operate even though his hand is still shaking (due to PTSD), drops the scalpel, panicking, crying, hand finally stops shaking — (13:11) Worried for someone, crying, shaky breathing, blaming himself, sobbing — (20:45) Depressed

Ep 23 : (02:25) Faints due to exhaustion — (28:42) Faints due to exhaustion, sleeping on the couch next to Zheng

Ep 24 : (25:10) Scratches on his arm — (28:15) Teary-eyed, crying  

Ep 25-28 : None

Zheng Ren

Ep 1-4 : None

Ep 5 : (19:37) Getting tired during a very long operation, sweating, concern for him, passes out at the end of the operation — (21:33) Wakes up after a nightmare, in a hospital bed with an IV

Ep 6 : None

Ep 7 : (31:40) Emotional, raising his voice, teary-eyed, crying

Ep 8 : (13:41) Sitting on the ground, crying, laying down while holding a picture of his dead father — (19:45) Crying in front of the grave of his parents — (39:35) Teary-eyed

Ep 9 : (12:00) Heart beating fast during a difficult operation, sweating, vision blurry — (25:53) Crying while dreaming

Ep 10-20 : None

Ep 21 : (33:45) Running away from a collapsing building, very worried about Su Yun (You have to hear him scream his name) — (41:00) Digging through the rubbles with his bare hands (super worried for Su Yun) (Gif Set)

Ep 22 : (07:23) Lifting heavy rubbles, worried for Su Yun, wants to jumps down the building to save him, stopped — (10:40) Relieved to see Su Yun alive, teary-eyed (Gif Set) — (16:18) Crying — (37:55) Fell asleep because of exhaustion, brought into the hospital tent on a stretcher, overworked 

Ep 23 : (10:12) Bruises on his back — (27:52) Almost faints due to exhaustion, concern for him, sleeping

Ep 24 : (28:25) Tear-eyed

Ep 25 : (34:00) Missing, friends looking for him, concern for him, shown on camera that he was knocked out and kidnapped — (35:34) Tied up and gagged, wakes up, threatened — (42:00) Sweating after doing cpr for a long time, exhausted, about to faint but caught by Su Yun, concern for him

Ep 26-28 : None

>> More Whump Lists

[diazsdimples]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @theotherbuckley @steadfastsaturnsrings and @puppyboybuckley (who published the final chapter of the Mudslide Fic, PLEASE go read it!)

I wasn’t gonna do this today cause I had the shift from hell and didn’t manage to write anything yesterday between birthday things but I managed to cobble this together after my shift! Frostpunk AU weirdly came back to me so please enjoy this small snippet!

Much to Buck’s relief, both Edmundo and Christopher are still alive when they make it back to the city, in record time as Bobby will have him believe. Rappelling down the cliff with two semi-conscious, reasonably unstable patients is more difficult than they’d initially anticipated, so in a rush of fear as he watches Bobby struggle with Christopher, Buck offers to bring the boy down himself.

Much like they did the day Buck carried Christopher to the cabin, they strap the child to Buck’s chest, using a small harness stored in the med kit on a “just in case” basis. Christophers head clunks repetitively against Buck’s chest as he pushes them off the cliff, slowly letting the rope out with each jump. He wishes that it wasn’t a two-hand job, that he could cradle Christopher’s head with one hand and keep the rope moving with the other.

Above him, Bobby abseils down with Edmundo dangling to the side of him in a basket. They’d done one last temperature check on the two of them before descending into the heavy, cold mist that lay over the city, and Edmundo��s had been the lowest they’d seen it since the rescue. The way Eli’s face had paled and he’d instantly tugged Bobby aside, talking with him in low, hushed tones was enough to tell Buck about the state of his health.

It made a cold, thrill of fear rush down Buck’s spine, settling in the pit of his stomach as a constant reminder of how precarious Edmundo and Christopher’s situation was, as he carried the small boy to safety.

The moment Buck and Christopher touched the ground, they were pounced on by a team of medics, headed by Hen.

“What’s the story, Buck?” Hen asked as she hurried to help peel off Buck’s outer layers and unclip him from the harness.

“Found this guy and his dad half frozen yesterday. He’s probably 7 or 8 years old and got moderate to severe hypothermia. Eli’s been monitoring him and he’s stable but barely conscious. Probably malnourished and seriously dehydrated,” Buck pants as he lowers Christopher onto the stretcher Hen has prepared. The kid’s light brown curls fall over his face, curling against his eyelids and Buck reaches out a tender hand to brush them back before he can stop himself.

If Hen notices, she chooses not to mention the look in his eyes as he does this.

“Alright, we’re going to take him to the med tent now. What about his dad?” Hen asks as two medics swiftly hoist Christopher’s stretcher into the air and run off in the direction of the nearest med tent.

Buck watches, half in a daze as Edmundo is lowered to the ground. His lips are pale and chapped, and his face looks lifeless and devoid of colour as his head lols to the side. A sick feeling creeps through Buck’s body as he thinks of how close they came to not making it back. How close Christopher came to losing his father.

“This is Edmundo Diaz, severe hypothermia, dehydration and malnourishment. He’s had issues with his oxygen and heart rate consistently through the journey home. Hen, he’ll need around the clock care, someone to stay with him, to keep an eye on him,” Buck says, hearing the urgency in his voice as he speaks. He doesn’t know what compels him, other than a sense that Edmundo is the other half of a magnet that’s drawing him ever closer, but Buck continues talking. “You guys can’t spare another medic but I-I don’t mind sitting with him. I’m good at taking his vitals a-and I could keep an eye on the kid.”

Hen eyes him, as if trying to read what his true motivation is. “Go,” she finally says, inclining her head towards the tent. Buck doesn’t need to be told twice.

No pressure tagging @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @evanbegins @smilingbuckley @thekristen999 @elvensorceress @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @aroeddiediaz @jesuisici33 @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @nmcggg @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kitteneddiediaz @epicbuddieficrecs @spagheddiediaz @loserdiaz

[hottpinkpenguin]

kirigan one shot, where the reader(fem) treats his face wounds and he feels at ease becuz for some reason her gift releases him from his pain, he cries(sobbing)all leading up to a very sad yet soft, fluffy end. as much as I hate him, I feel like the man just desperately needs a hug from someone

A/n: he really does need a hug, and i totally volunteer. thanks for the request anon!!

Darkling X Grisha GN!Reader Word Count: 2769 Warnings: mild mentions of blood

You held your hands over the boy’s ghastly leg wound, the flesh underneath stitching itself together slowly. His broken, chesty sobs slowed as you poured your gift onto his wound. You felt the toll an entire day of healing was taking on you, but the boy on the stretcher beneath you was too young to turn away. His blue eyes softened as you heard the bone snap back into place, his ankle turning to its correct angle. You focused, your head beginning to ring and swim with exhaustion as you channeled the Small Science down to his leg. Nearby, you heard his parents begin to pray over you, his mother weeping noisily. 

When the wound was completely closed up and the worst of the bruising faded, you dropped your hands and let go of the grip on your powers. You had to steady yourself on the edge of the bed to keep from falling. Your vision was dotted with white, your ears sounded like they’d been filled with cotton. You heard your cousin Donovan usher the family out of your Healer’s tent as the parents profusely thanked him, trying to offer him their money, a goat, and whatever precious items that could think of.

You sank onto the bed, dabbing at the sweat on your brow as you fought off a wave of dizziness. Your breath was ragged like you’d just run for miles. The destruction left by the group of mercenaries that had torn through the bordertown had felt never ending, but you were grateful to know the boy was the last person who’d need your services. You’d need to sleep for days to recover. 

“Y/n, there’s one more.” 

You could hear the apology in Donovan’s voice when he spoke. He’d poked his head in through the tent flap, dark bags under his eyes.

You shook your head, guilt-ridden. “Donovan, I can’t, I’m sorry. Please ask one of the other Healers.” 

“He asked for you specifically.” Something about Donovan’s voice grabbed you. You looked at him, questions swirling in your eyes. He only tilted his head at you meaningfully before stepping aside. 

A tall man clad in dark robes stepped into your tent. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t see his pupils, his hair the color of obsidian, with four ragged black scars traversing his handsome face. Something about him was so… familiar. 

You tried to rise from the bed, but your legs wobbled and you felt yourself pitch forward.

The stranger reacted quickly and agilely, leaping forward to catch you before you hit the ground. 

“You’re exhausted,” he observed. His voice sounded dark and heavy with a sorrow that hovered around him like a fog.

He helped you back onto the cot, its surface damp with sweat and blood from the day’s patients. The dark-eyed stranger looked around the tent, surveying the scene with intent eyes. Finally, his gaze found yours again. 

“I’m sorry to have bothered you,” he announced gallantly. “I can see you’ve done enough for one day.” 

He turned, his black robes whirling around him with a dramatic flourish. You caught a fleeting glance of his side profile: a straight nose, strong jaw, dark brows framing darker eyes. Proud mouth with a slight downturn at the corners. 

General Kirigan.

Recognition slammed into you like a freight train. You’d only seen him once before and from afar, but you’d never forget. But he was dead, wasn’t he? Your mind went blank for a moment as you watched him move towards the open flap on your tent.

“Wait!” 

He hesitated at the edge of your tent, half turning back to you. 

“General?” Your voice was small and questioning. 

He turned fully back to you, the lamplight illuminating those ghastly scars across his face. The flesh at the seam of the wounds was discolored, as if the marks were poisoned. You’d never seen scars like that before. 

He gave you a small, bashful smile, dropping his gaze.

“Aleksander will do nicely,” he answered you. It was him. 

“But… the Fold? We… I thought you were dead…” Your voice trailed off as you realized how silly you sounded. Why should General Kirigan care what an untrained Healer at the edge of Ravka thought of his fate?

But, much to your surprise, he walked back towards you with a polite smile, his courtly manners on full display. 

“For a moment, so did I.” The smile turned sour on his lips, leaving behind a mangled looking grimace. You felt his heartbeat stutter in his chest, your powers attuned to him like a magnet. You tried to find something to say, your mind still reeling from the shock of finding Ravka’s most famous Grisha in your lowly tent. 

Whatever momentary reverie he’d been swept up in, he surfaced quickly and regained his footing. The flash of pain you’d seen in his expression smoothed back into a mask of graciousness. 

“But, as you can see, I survived. Although… these scars.” His hand came to his face, barely touching the largest, deepest gash that stretched from his right temple across his nose and down the smooth plane of his left cheek. He winced at the contact, however light. “They… pain me. I was told your powers are… up to the task.” 

You blinked dumbly for a moment as his words sank in. 

“You… came here for me?” The notion seemed impossible, but the Black General nodded. 

“I did.” No explanation, no answer to the million questions running through your head. You wondered where to start. What to ask. 

You hesitated a few moments before you realized you were talking to a patient. The famed Shadow Summoner, yes. But a patient still. 

You stood quickly from the cot, adrenaline surging through your exhausted body just enough to keep you upright. You had the wherewithal to be embarrassed by the conditions of the tent. You yanked the stained sheets off the cot, balling them in your hands. 

“I’m so sorry,” you spluttered, shoving the sheets into a corner of the tent. You had no new ones to add to the cot, and very little in the way of creature comforts to offer to notable guests. For his part, the General didn’t seem to mind, his eyes following you as you bustled about, straightening the pillows on the bare mattress and trying to brush down the stray hairs that had broken loose from your braids, curling at the temples from the humid summer night and your own exertion. 

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” he assured you kindly. You beckoned to the mattress once it was as presentable as you could make it. Aleksander sat on it without hesitation, that same genteel smile on his handsome face. “There’s often no time for the niceties when our powers are needed.” 

Your curiosity was piqued by his comment, but you were too flustered to ask anything of it. He adjusted on the squeaky mattress, remaining upright with his hands clasped in his lap. You pulled a stool over from the corner of the tent and placed it next to his right leg, balancing your weight on it. 

“What needs healing?” you asked, retreating to your role of Healer in order to escape your own embarrassment. 

He gestured to the scars again. You swallowed thickly, examining them carefully and trying to avoid his gaze. He studied you intently, his expression calm and unreadable. 

“I’ve never seen scars like this,” you admitted. “I don’t know how to heal these.” 

He nodded, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. “They are from a Volcra,” he offered by way of explanation, noting the shock on your face. “I do indeed doubt that you’ve seen scars like these before. Whether your gifts work or not, I would be much obliged if you were to try.” 

You nodded earnestly, wiping your hands on the front of the nurses apron you wore. Although you didn’t use the conventional tools of a doctor, you found that people trusted you when you looked more like what they expected. You’d never been trained as a Grisha for the Second Army anyways, so you had no red Kefta to wear like the Healers of Kirigan’s ranks. 

You let your mind loosen its grip on the nerves as you felt yourself sink into the role of Healer. Kirigan nodded at you, sensing the change in tone as you lifted your hands to the side of his face. 

You tapped into the well of your powers that sat at the center of your chest. You had to reach deep, your reserves sapped from the day. But you felt it, the warm energy of the Small Science, and grasped it. With effortful concentration, you pushed the energy up into your shoulders and down the length of your arms into your palms and fingers. Then, you launched it into the space between your fingertips and the General’s face, allowing the Small Science to do the rest. For several moments, nothing happened. The black scars stared back at you unchanged. You dug deeper, pulling all the healing energy you could find buried in you and forcing it into your hands. You were trembling by the end of it, the attempt completely draining you. 

“Here. Let me help you.” You watched with confusion as Aleksander lifted his hands from his lap, until his fingertips barely touched your exposed wrists. As his skin made contact with yours, you felt a new dimension of energy open up to you. Like you’d been standing on the other side of a veil, the force of your powers tripled in a surge of warmth. 

You struggled with the extra effort of channeling the new powers, your concentration narrowing to nothing but your hands and the scars. You felt the power pulse with the inhale and exhale of your own breath, and after a few surges you began to see the skin around Aleksander’s scars start to mend itself. Like wind wiping away ridges in sand, the scars slowly shrunk, one excruciating millimeter at a time. 

Even with whatever added power Aleksander had gifted you by his touch, you felt your body begin to tire. Your head started to pound, your eyelids becoming heavy. 

Aleksander must have noticed too, because he very gently pulled your hands away from his face after a few more moments of effort. When the distance between your hands and his face was too great for your powers to traverse, you felt your body crumple in an exhausted heap on the stool. You let your head hang heavy, your chest heaving. You closed your eyes, breathing through the dull roar in your ears. 

You weren’t sure how long passed - probably only a few breaths. Your awareness came back slowly. You slowly lifted your head, your eyes coming to focus on Aleksander’s face. He hadn’t moved from his seat on the bare mattress at the center of the tent, and you noted with a swell of pride that his scars were noticeably smaller and less disfiguring. 

It took you a second to realize that there were tears pooling in his dark eyes. One loosed itself and traced a slow trail down his unmarred cheek. He was looking at you with a mixture of awe and gratitude, a new smile on his lips. 

“What was that?” you asked bluntly, looking at his hands. “What did you do?” 

“Nothing you couldn’t do yourself,” he replied cryptically. His voice sounded lighter. “I just gave you a boost to reach the full strength of your powers.” 

You couldn’t hazard a guess as to what that meant, or how to interpret what you’d just experienced. Your attention was turning elsewhere as another tear sprang free from his eyes. 

“Normally people stop crying after I’ve healed them,” you observed quietly. “Have I hurt you?” 

His expression turned somber and serious, the gentle smile melting from his lips. 

“No, y/n. You didn’t hurt me. Quite the opposite, actually. I can’t remember the last time I felt this way. I feel almost… free.” 

You weren’t sure if it was the fatigue or the weight in Aleksander’s voice, but your heart ached at his words. Acting on an instinct, you leaned forward and brushed away a teardrop with your thumb against his jawline. You pulled back hesitantly, afraid you’d crossed a line. Aleksander’s hand caught yours. You felt your powers rumbling in response to whatever magic lived in his skin, your heart skipping a beat as he held your hand to his cheek. 

“I’d ask if we could stay a while. Please.” 

You swallowed, uncertain for a moment. You could only imagine what Donovan and the other Healers you traveled with along the Ravkan border would think. Donovan certainly would have told everyone within earshot about who was in your tent by now, if they hadn’t seen the Black General themselves. What would they think if he lingered too long?

You watched as Aleksander’s expression turned from pleading to naked desperation and immediately made your decision. You nodded, unable to deny him a small comfort he so desperately needed. 

His eyes fluttered closed as he nodded gratefully. “Thank you,” he breathed out, nuzzling his cheek against the palm of your hand. “No need to go further,” he added, following your train of thought to the questions you were too afraid to ask. “I’m not asking for your body. Just your presence.”

You felt yourself relax as the sincerity of Aleksander’s words wrapped around you. You let your thumb stroke gently back and forth along the plane of his cheek. His eyes were still closed, and you saw him continue to breathe deeply. 

“What brought you here?” you asked cautiously after a few moments of quiet. 

His eyes opened gently, and you were once again struck by how very dark his irises were. 

“I found myself in need of a Healer with skills beyond just mending flesh. Rumor of your talents reached me. And I was…” His voice trailed off, his eyes glazing over as he became lost in thought for a moment. “I was out of options. These scars aren’t the only wounds I suffered in the Fold.” 

You nodded as if you understood, although in truth you didn’t. You’d heard from some of your past patients that you were more than just a Healer, but you never knew what to make of those statements, so you’d always dismissed them as expressions of gratitude. Most of your patients were otkazat'sya - non-Grisha - so it was particularly easy to explain away their superstitions about your powers. To hear it from the Black General made your mind reel. You tried to tamp down the selfish part of you that was itching to ask more. 

“I’m glad I could help,” you stammered out blandly. Aleksander sighed, leaning against your hand for one more moment before he smiled and began to rise from the cot. 

“I won’t keep you, I can see how exhausted you are.” You rose along with him, trailing after him like a nervous puppy as he made to move towards the tent flap. 

“Those scars aren’t completely healed,” you observed. “I could accompany you, General. If you’d like.” You were astounded by your own boldness, and you weren’t sure if you offered because of how devastatingly handsome he was or because you sensed how deeply he needed your powers. 

He hesitated at the edge of your tent, turning back to face you with a pained look of regret on his face. 

“A kind offer,” he replied softly. “But one I can’t accept, I’m afraid.”

You interrupted his exit again, a restless energy inside you imploring him not to leave. “Why not?” 

He didn’t stop this time, although you heard his quiet answer perfectly clear. “I have a knack for ruining beautiful things, and I would not wish such a fate on you.”

General Kirigan vanished into the warm summer night like a shadow. His visit had been so fleeting and unusual that you questioned whether you’d dreamt the whole thing in some sort of exhausted fever dream. It wasn’t until the following week, when you received a fresh set of bedsheets and new nurse’s apron from a mysterious donor, that you began to believe your own memory. There was a note tucked into the sheets, written on crisp parchment paper in the darkest ink you’d ever seen:

For the healer who mends more than what can be seen

You saved the note, if only to prove to yourself that it hadn’t been a dream after all…

[samsheughan]

Sutures

Chapter 7: The Signs Are There

It's a race against time to save Jamie's life, and he's got some things to say to Claire about it.

-----

Ronnie and I galloped as fast as our horses could take us back to the Ridge. It would be some time, since I was already a few miles outside of Fraser’s backcountry lands. In the meantime, I had shouted my questions about Jamie’s condition to Ronnie, but I don’t think he heard me because he kept repeating “Aye, he’s in the woods!”

When we finally rounded the corner and raced up the path that led directly to the Big House, I was off Tabitha in a flash, unfastening my medicine box from the side of the saddle. I turned to see several men hauling something towards the stairway that led to the front doors of the house.

I got closer, and my heart stuttered in my chest.

“Easy, lads, easy!” called a burly man with a bushy beard and a worn straw hat from the head of the makeshift stretcher. It appeared to be the remnants of a canvas tent, but pulled taut to hold his weight. “Dinna be droppin’ Himself or there’ll be hell to pay!”

Read On AO3

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Valkyria Chronicles? It's been a long time since I heard of that, thanks for the nostalgia trip you sent me on.

How about the squad 7 members when their S/O gets injured?

(Valkyria Chronicles) Welkin, Alicia, Isara, and Rosie's S/O getting injured

3 other friends and I have been playing VC2, and I've been replaying 1 and got reminded of my love for the game, thus their addition here.

Though absolutely startled to hear that S/O took a hit during the skirmish, Welkin tries his best to remain calm.

Welkin approaches the medical tent S/O is staying in and takes a deep breath seeing the bandage wrapped around them.

(Welkin) "Thank goodness you're alright..."

Before sitting next to S/O, he personally attends to every soldier that was injured as well, finally taking a seat next to S/O when he's done.

His mind is put at ease knowing they'd recover, but can't help but feel responsible for the injury since he ordered S/O into the position to begin with.

(S/O) "You don't have to stress about me y'know?...Ah, why don't you tell me about some of the animals you saw on the way here?"

LAST MISTAKE.

Now, S/O has to deal with the consequences of Welkin yapping their ear off about the type of fauna generally found in this area for an hour, getting his mind off their injury and onto his borderline-obsessiveness with nature.

Much to the dismay of S/O's other squadmates in the tent.

(Welkin) "-...and the type of beetles are also quite uncommon! They generally don't make themselves known until the spring and-...S/O?"

S/O was sprawled out on the bed with a drained smile, putting one hand on his shoulder.

(S/O) "Welkin...I think you should probably go to the debriefing."

(Welkin) "Huh?...OH! R-Right, I'll catch up with you later!"

Once he promptly made his exit, one of the soldiers next to S/O on the stretcher turned their head to them.

(Soldier) "Why did you have to ask him about nature?"

(S/O) "I...w-wasn't thinking..."

Alicia is absolutely stricken with worry the moment S/O's injuries reaches her.

Flying open the tent's flaps, her eyes scan the area before finally landing on S/O and rushing to their side.

(Alicia) "S/O! Are you alright?! How bad was the shot-"

(S/O) "W-Woah! Alicia, I-I'm alright!...OW!"

Alicia had grabbed their arm, and their wincing did little to calm her down.

(Alicia) "You call this 'alright'? If you had gotten hit any closer-"

She quickly goes silent when she realizes half the room was staring at her, making Alicia clear her throat.

(Alicia) "Apologies for disrupting the quiet. As you were, everyone."

With a quick salute she sighs and sits back down next to S/O, squeezing their hand.

(Alicia) "I'll be back with something to drink at least. Promise me you won't get hurt like this again, okay?"

(S/O) "As long as you promise to as well."

With a soft giggle and a final squeeze of their hand, she nods and leaves.

The moment she helps finishes the Edelweiss's repairs, Isara quickly makes her way to the medical tent where S/O was being held.

Isara sits next to S/O and brings them a canteen full of water.

(Isara) "Sorry I couldn't be here sooner, are you holding up okay?"

(S/O) "Yeah, just stings like hell..."

Isara's quiet laughter eases S/O, until they noticed some of the soldiers glaring at Isara.

She doesn't even have to hear them speak, Isara knows already what's got S/O trying to move out the bed.

(Isara) "First of all, you shouldn't be moving.-"

With a hand to their chest shoving them back in the bed, she shakes her head.

(Isara) "And secondly, don't focus on them. Just focus on me, okay?"

(S/O) "Darcsen or not, you're still fighting alongside us! They should-"

Isara's hand moved to S/O's and just holds it tightly.

(Isara) "Believe me, if they want to say something to my face, I'll have something to say right back...But thank you. It still means a lot to me."

S/O just sighs and nods, the pain of their injury mostly subsiding from their mind now.

Rosie would have kicked the door open if the medical tent was a building, instead the flaps flew wildly as she announced her presence.

(Rosie) "S/O, you idiot!"

S/O slumps in their bed as some snickering came from the other soldiers.

Though they were quickly silenced when Rosie closed the distance, gesturing for them to mind their own damn business.

Rosie crossed her arms and stood staring at S/O.

(Rosie) "How in the hell did you manage to get hit? What, were you just not paying attention?!"

(S/O) "Ugh, y-yeah. They caught me by surprise-"

(Rosie) "Next time, focus better on your drills! I'm not dragging your ass out of the fire if there's a next time!"

S/O wryly smiled and nodded, all the while Rosie just scoffed and rolled her eyes.

(S/O) "Appreciate the concern as always, Rosie."

(Rosie) "Psh, whatever."

Rosie at the very least grabs their shoulder tenderly...Before shaking it violently and startling S/O.

(Rosie) "Wipe that smirk off too. I gotta get back to cleaning my equipment."

[familyvideowithsteve]

façade, pt. nine : the thunder in our hearts - steve harrington x fem!reader

This material may not be copied, reproduced, displayed, modified. This is my work, do not steal it, do not republish it.

summary: Is it over, now?

warnings: (reading the first series is highly recommended) /NSFW/, no use of Y/n, she/her pronouns with no physical description, violence, near death experiences, blood, weapons, insecure thoughts, angst, self doubt, trust issues, jealousy, nightmares, anxiety disorders and depression (warnings for the entire series not the individual parts) (it's a filler chapter, it's barely interesting, but this is the best I could do as I went through the two most challenging months)

word count: 3.9k

façade the first series | the sequel | spotify playlist | pt. ten

People who are burned alive don't die from the fire, not consciously at least, the brain protects them as so many nerve endings would pull the alarm bell about excruciating pain everywhere, they would fall unconscious on second and third degrees burns, then keep on burning alive until they die.

Thank the heavens Steve and her were originally unconscious when fire started spreading. He had managed to get them closer to the town centre where the four parts joined to form a bigger gate, taking its place on the town library’s side wall and asphalt; it basically was a door gate. 

This portal was the way the US army was able to enter the Upside Down, sending a small group as scouts, all under the clairvoyance of the Mind Flayer, and Henry’s tentative way to warn them of both the US army and his master’s plan, torn between his influence and wrath and the little boy inside him who was his first victim, back in 1959.

He was so split, the warning he tried to get through her didn't work as the Mind Flayer had the upper hand on both of them. She was only a means to know his location as the Mind Flayer suspected Henry would try to get his grip on some form of power to recover. 

She was the perfect tool, being physically and mentally vulnerable and most accessible to both of them. 

The first bomb broke through Hopper’s group meeting Demogorgons and Demobats, fire was their weakness, it got rid of the creatures but it also revealed more presence for the Mind Flayer. 

The order to stop the bombing and look for civilians didn’t come quickly, even though they had managed to clear the first places they had marched in, they struggled to spot any civilians at first, whether dead or alive, then Colonel Sullivan believed he could get more information on Eleven so he ordered to get the civilians out. 

Through Hop’s group, one by one they were brought on stretchers, quickly examined by military doctors to separate and officialise the deaths and the unconscious ones were sent to the military outpost first to be sent to the hospitals. Wings of same state hospitals were privatised, militarised, non-disclosure agreements signed to every healthcare workers and non healthcare workers that would come in contact with them or their hospital wings. High level politics and the army don’t want a sequel to the Watergate scandal, especially when they messed up big time again. 

Steve and her were found later, given their separate position, the fire had stopped spreading when it started raining, their bodies found in comatose condition, they were taken through the main gate as a downpour started pouring, thankfully for them, they were out of the Upside Down for good. The army would have to deal with the Mind Flayer’s forces walking towards the few military men, unprepared and in the unknown. It was none of their concern, though. 

They managed to identify everyone, except her, as they didn’t have any intel on her from previous encounters with the Upside Down, Colonel Sullivan’s branch of army had been watching since Dr Owen took charge of Hawkins Lab, out of everyone, they didn’t know who she was and the most important one of them, El, was missing. He ordered to send Steve and her away and frustratingly ordered more men to search for El, not knowing what was waiting for them on the other side of the gate.

The scent of antiseptic and the sharp, abrupt feeling of pain guided her towards consciousness, welcomed by a strong and vivid light above her she immediately closed her eyes back. She doesn’t understand anything of what’s happened or been happening, all she knows is that her body’s short on adrenaline and endorphins and she feels pain like she’s never felt before. 

It stings, it feels hot, sharp, burning everywhere, like the smallest needles on earth would prickle and tickle her burned skin, it’s unbearable and she wants to die. Not her entire body is burned, the third degrees burned don’t have any nerve endings to send a signal of pain but the surroundings skin gets the message pretty clearly to her brain.

Her body starts trembling, out of cold, fear and pain, she realises she’s crying when she feels the droplets wet her cheekbones and fall into her temples, it’s the harsh realisation that she’s not dead that hits all of sudden.

She finally hears and sees movements above her, it’s blurry at first, but she sees nurses trying to insert catheters in her non-burned arm, someone is scissoring away some of her clothes to reveal her wounds, they’re all trying to attend their patient, her, when she desperately wants to die. She wants to disappear, fade into nothingness, turn into smoke, begone. 

Wrath invades her and the lastest drops of adrenaline hits her body, she pushes everyone away, kicks some health workers away as she rips away the IVs, screaming in a fury to be left alone, that she wants to die. She manages to be on her feet, discards the IV stand away and attempts to take a step away but her body gives her up. Days of not eating and drinking, losing blood, defenceless on all parts, physical and psychological has left her immensely weakened. She collapses on the cool, hard linoleum.

He feels something tightening around his left biceps, the pressure and pain it creates lulls him awake, it’s all blurry, and his mouth's as dry as the Sahara, he wasn’t blinded by the aggressive light on the ceiling.

He feels the pressure loosening and his head automatically tilts to the side. Through barely opened eyes he sees a nurse, or a doctor, he doesn't really know. 

He closes his eyes back shortly after and succumbs again to unconsciousness. For a few more days, he drifts away a lot between wakefulness and sleepiness.

The day he fully wakes, the first thing he asks is where he is, and if she’s okay.

They offer little information at first, because they’re not sure how to deal with it and the NDAs they signed, but they provide some info for Steve.

His body is burned up to 30%, which is reassuring and shouldn't be too incapacitating for living a somewhat normal life. They had to make skin grafts out of his back, but overall, he’s in better condition than most of his friends.

Three out of them didn't make it, but they refused to name who, and Steve doubted they knew all their identities, of if the military had shared it to them because he had to tell them all of his information, on his bedside table, his documents read John Doe#4, soon replaced by Steve Harrington, 21 years old. 

The thought of his birthday passing made him dizzy, because he realised he was in a coma for weeks, possibly more than a month, the dates were all a bit fuzzy and it saddened him greatly. 

Although, he wondered, who were the other John Does? What about the Jane Does? Who was still alive and who was dead? If the doctors considered he was in better condition than the others, how were the others? Was he the only one awake? 

He asked to see the others, they kept telling him they weren’t sure, that he had to be able to walk furthermore so he took that as a bet and worked as much as he could with the physiotherapist, soon enough, he was given the green light to see his friends. 

John Doe#1 was Hopper, he was awake too, but much later than Steve had, he had to be put under an artificial coma to put his body to rest, he had been burned up to 55%, they used skin grafts from his scalp and the back of his tights. He laid in bed, bandages around his arms and torso, he looked tired as hell, but the tiniest smile appeared on his face when he saw Steve step in his room with a cane. 

Steve doesn’t know if it’s a smile he sees on the corner of the man’s lips, he sits on the chair beside him, they chat a little bit, but they don’t know how much they can say with civilians nearby.

They barely talked, avoiding the subject of who had made it alive and who didn't. 

He was so tired he didn't stay that long, but he went to see him over the following days.

Jane Doe#1 was Nancy, unfortunately she wasn’t awake, she was still in an artificial coma, she had taken most of the impact of the fire, burned up to 60%, the doctors were very wary of her condition. Steve could only hope she would get better in time.

John Doe#2 was Jonathan, Steve didn’t even enter his room. Their eyes met through the glass of the door, but he walked away, following the nurse to John Doe#3’s room. Dustin’s. 

The teenager had his limping leg in an external fixation device to keep his leg stabilised. His head stuck to the window he didn’t see Steve approaching, he only looked once he heard the door opening.

Dustin barely smiled, just a thin line on his lips, he rearranged his head as the young adult walked to him, caneless this time. The young teenager once was once so full of life, talkative, he rarely didn’t speak. 

They barely chatted, Dustin’s mood was morose, he was the only one of his best friends who had made it alive, and he didn't see the point yet.

There was nothing that could be said, really, it was too early for reassuring words and optimism. Dustin kept wondering what they could have changed to have a better outcome. 

He was permanently marked by the Upside Down and the losses he experienced. 

If he had known the day of the first murder, that it would all lead to this, he would have made other choices. But overthinking the situation isn’t going to change anything and it’s not going to bring back his best friends. If only.. So he hangs on to Steve, and Hopper. 

Jane Doe#2 was her . Plunged into a deep artificial coma. He tells the nurse her name, it rolls off his tongue so delicately, so longingly, so naturally.. he tells her her age, that he’s her boyfriend. Pulling a chair closer he sits close to her, his hand intertwining their fingers together, his eyes watching closely the movement of her breathing through artificial breathing with a respirator. 

The nurse tells him she had to be put in an artificial coma given the severity of her injuries, burned up to 30% like him but she was in septic shock because of the piece of wood impaled in her abdomen. She was so close to being in cardiac and hepatic failure. She also mentioned how she awoke and screamed she wanted to die and ripped the IVs out before she fainted, how none of them understood that reaction.

He didn’t say much, but he understood. She let him know they planned on waking her up the following day as the exams they had done were good, she wasn’t totally off the hook, but they were optimistic, more optimistic for her than Nancy. The nurse left him in the room, it became incredibly silent.

Unable to say anything, he hated to see her like this. The more he tried to open his mouth to say something, the more his eyes couldn’t bear the sighthing. He was caught in a monstrous spiral of guilt.

His fingers against hers’ feel clammy, he doesn’t realise right away the tears that cascade down his cheeks, falling down the pants the hospital gave him.

His head hung low in shame, he angrily rubbed the tears away and left the room without a single word.

He had felt hope before, he was covered in shame now. Unable to look at his reflection in the mirror, sending the nurse away when she tells him they’ve put her off the respirator and that she’s breathing on her own. Not awake, yet.

And he waits, unsure, ashamed, for the nurses to tell him he can go see her. He’s never been more unsure of his future, of them . He’s got such a bad feeling, he doesn’t know what to think, what to hope for.

It’s silent, so silent, then suddenly her ears are invaded by a sharp beeping, it’s kind of a blur but she hears footsteps, the sound stopping then silence again.

She doesn’t dare open her eyes, her lids feel so heavy, she can’t lift them up and she fades back into silence.

Her mouth feels so dry, furred. Her eyebrows frown, she realises she’s incredibly uncomfortable, her body aches, she opens her eyes and meets the ceiling. 

Her head tilts to the side and she sees it’s dark outside, the window is as large as the wall and she can see the neighbouring woods, hiding the moon. Her room must be pretty high up because she can see an owl is perched on a thick log, stretching one arm then the other. It gets comfortable while keeping an eye on the area for any mouse to hunt. It’s a beautiful scene to witness. 

Her eyes meet the ceiling again, it’s just another proof that she isn’t dead. She closes her eyes and completely abandons herself to the feeling, her right arm moves to her stomach, under the hospital gown she feels the thickness of a dressing. Sobs escape her lips and she tightens her closed lids, forcing the tears to run along her cheeks to fall in her temple and in her hair.

She cries herself to exhaustion, emotional exhaustion. She doesn’t fall asleep, even if she gets to witness a peaceful scene, she gets to relive her final days in the Upside Down. She really hoped she would die, she would finally be at peace with Eddie. Turns out she’s not done agonising on this earth. 

She doesn’t ring anyone to let them know she’s awake, they’ll know soon enough and it’s suddenly gonna be less calm and more hectic around here. She sees the night fade away into the dawn, the trees are the curtains to the light of day, the owl retreats to sleep. 

She hears the door open, footsteps approaching, and with a sigh the cacophony begins. 

He knows she’s awake but hasn’t come to see her yet, uncertainty planted a seed in his brain that he can’t seem to outgrow. He knows she’s going to reject him, but he hopes not. So he delays. 

One afternoon, the nurse comes to him, she’s awake and cognitively responsive, but refuses to talk to anyone. Maybe she will respond to him.

He’s basically their last chance at getting her to communicate and open up. 

He finds her lying on her side, it’s past five in the afternoon, she’s looking at the window, a birds’ nest is perched on a log, she watches the two birds building the nest. Seeing her like this from afar, felt like watching a lioness in a small lions run. 

A lioness that’s accepted her doomed fate in a terribly small enclosure and no stimuli.

He opens the door, she doesn't move, he grabs a chair and walks towards her side of the bed, when he sits down their eyes meet and a shy smile appears on his lips.

She doesn’t smile back, only frowns, “Steve.” 

Her voice is so hoarse, like she hasn't spoken in a long time, she clears her throat, and frowns more as her throat aches.

Her name falls from his lips like warmed butter, it rolls off his tongue like sweet honey and it makes him want to close his eyes and reminisce the months they spent as a couple before it all went sideways. 

Instead he simply smiles more, his hand naturally falls close to her waist on the duvet. 

He gets her to talk a little bit, for him it’s clear, she’s still in the Upside Down, haunted by everything that happened. He could understand her reaction, he’s been trying to live with the trauma of it for four years before, but he didn’t experience it like her. 

That’s what really shatters him, because she experienced way too much, way too fast, and more than most of them. 

She didn’t open up much to him first, she had intertwined their fingers together, tucked under her cheek. Her eyes closed, she seemed to be able to rest that way, so he let her. 

With more visits she began revealing more, how she could barely sleep at night because as soon as she closed her eyes she was back in the Upside Down, she could hear the demobats gnawing on Eddie as she tried her hardest to rush to him. She could see the pool of blood growing larger by the minute. 

Heat left his body as minutes went by. 

Then the shuffling sound of the Mind Flyer getting closer and her most vivid nightmare begins. Henry, Vecna, the voices, the unsettling darkness and loneliness. All of this repeats every night and she’s trapped in the most gruesome place.

Steve suggests collective counselling but she refuses, so he promises her to get better together to live this place together. A promise he makes, and she nods.

It starts there.

Physiotherapy, all their IVs are out, Dustin’s leg in an articulated splint so he could readapt to walking again, Hop’s on his feet too, and Nancy doesn’t wake up. 

Jonathan is ignored by Steve and her, he carries the weight of Nancy’s fate on his shoulders, forever wondering if he had done things differently, maybe she would still be with them. 

They don’t receive any news about Hawkins or the Upside Down because they refused to get them, if only Hop knew anything about El, he would feel a tad bit better about being alive, so he swore to himself he would get better to search for her. 

Over the months, it had been over more than a year actually, they stayed in that militarised hospital only to ensure their safety, and they needed clearance from the doctors and the army. Especially from the army. 

They demanded that each of them consulted a counsellor to clear them apt for living in society, given what they went through. Hop was sour about it because he hadn’t had something like this when he came back from Vietnam. 

They all were more or less trustworthy with the counsellor, Steve was the most sincere, and she was the most calculating to leave this place as soon as possible.

To be done with this hell, she had to leave, and quickly.

She has no idea what she plans on doing, but the more time she spends with them, the more she can't bare it.

She knows they're not responsible for the Upside Down and Vecna and the Mind Flayer, but she needs someone to blame, and lying to the counsellor seems to be working, so she continues, hoping she’s going to escape this hellhole. She’s in denial, buried very deep in there until it’s going to come bite her in the ass.

One September afternoon, the news broke through. They’ve been cleared by the army to leave, finally, she was the first one to cross the counsellor’s doors to retrieve the things she had gathered since she’s been brought to the hospital, some clothes—donated by people to the hospital. Toiletries. She scoffed as she realised her entire life could be held in a plastic bag from the nearest 7-Eleven. 

He shouted her name through the corridors, calling her to stop and allow him a few words but she only walked faster to the nearest staircase, furtively meeting his eyes when she stopped by the door. 

The look on her face was enough to slow him down slightly but he kept going after her, they practically ran off the staircase until he caught up on her when her hand was on the door handle, his body blocked the way for her and she turned to him. 

“Just.. wait, please— I… I need to catch my breath.” 

“Wait for what? I don’t want to hear it, what I want is to leave far away from this godforsaken place and never return!” 

His hand intuitively went to his hair, his fingers brushing through his locks without a second thought as he observed her, “I understand, I don’t plan to stay here, but I thought we could—”

“What? That we could run far far away together as if nothing happened? As if I don’t wish to be left off dead in that godforsaken place with my best friend?! As if we could forget it all?!” 

“No. It’s n—”

“Listen to me carefully because I will not say this again. I’m leaving, alone. I do not wish to see any of your faces ever again, do you hear me? I never want to hear from you, see you, ever again!,” she paused, pushing him to the side to grab the door handle. 

She opens the door, takes a step but suddenly stops, turning to face him. 

He doesn’t remember ever seeing her eyes so full of anger, how so much wrath could hold into her body without it crumbling down in autodestruction like a ticking time bomb, he doesn’t know. Perhaps the bomb already set off, or is about to, but he doesn't want to be around when she does.

“If memory serves me right, you were the first to leave, and you were right. You were so right to abandon me on my doorstep."

Another pause, and he dreads the last words she will spat at him like venom.

" You’re dead to me .” 

They swore they could hear their hearts breaking like porcelain. It was full circle. She had watched him leave all those months ago after a night together, she had physically felt her heart breaking, crumbling down. She had felt her stomach twitching, ready to empty itself. She had wanted nothing more than to disappear in shame. 

Now it was Steve’s turn. Nausea crept up on him, his legs turning to jelly, his heartbeat grew so loud in his ribcage, he could feel his flesh thumping along the rhythm, he felt like he was dying. He wanted nothing more than to disappear in shame. Disappear into nothingness as he watches her leaving.

They feel like their lives are over, their hearts deflated like their dreams and hopes. Even though they loved each other so profoundly, she had to free herself of so much pain and anger.

‘Free herself’...strange choice of words. She doesn't know what she's going to do, where she’s gonna go, she doesn't feel free either way.

All she knows is that she needs to get as far away as possible from Steve Harrington and Hawkins. As far away as possible from the source of all the pain and shame, and self hatred she feels. Away from where her heart truly feels at home, but doesn't let her feel that sense of belonging, buried under layers of her anxiety and crippling depression, from the trauma of the Upside Down to her maladaptive jealousy and self hatred.

The day she left Steve Harrington on the front entrance of the militarised hospital, is the day she celebrated her twenty-second birthday, after spending two years in hell from the day she fell in the portal on the highway.

Is it over, now?    

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