i spend more time reading than i do breathing

Imagine being the daughter of Addison Montgomery and Derek Shepherd, and meeting Stephen Strange during your residency.

Author: @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

Requested by: @jenandoli

Fandom(s): Doctor Strange/MCU & Grey’s Anatomy

Word count: ~1900


Link to Part 2: http://idontgiveaflyinggrayson69.tumblr.com/post/157081239712/imagine-being-the-daughter-of-addison-montgomery

Warning(s): Secondary character death (background) – no depiction of death.

———-



I knew I was going to go into medicine from a young age. Having Addison Montgomery and Derek Shepherd as parents’ sort of cemented the deal.I grew up in the hospital; playing with medical dolls and drawing on old charts. The hospital became my safe space, especially when Derek and Addison’s fights got bigger and bigger. Some way or another I’d always find my way back to the hospital. More often than not, Derek and Addison would find me tucked away in some room looking over scans.

Addison wanted me to go into Obstetrician-Gynecology, fetal surgery, or neonatal medicine; like her. Derek however, wanted me to experience the different disciplines and pick the one I felt most drawn to, or happiest with.

This is probably the reason I got along better with my dad.

As I got older, Derek and I spent a lot of time together looking at brain scans, him showing me what different things were, different techniques, and such. I fell in love with Neuro.

Which makes the fact that I chose to stay with Addison when they got a divorce, surprising. I got to see Derek once a month, which increased to almost every day, when Addison chased Derek to Seattle.

But when I got accepted to med school in Seattle, at the University of Washington School of Medicine, Derek and Meredith invited me to stay with them, and I did, much to Addison’s disapproval.  

It was rocky at first, but Meredith became like a cool aunt to me.

Derek, Meredith and Cristina coached me through med school, and were probably the reason I graduated head of my class.

Being head of my class, and having done my internship at Grey-Sloan Memorial meant that I could do my residency almost anywhere I wanted to, which is why I applied for Grey-Sloan Memorial, not just to stay close to my family, but also because it had one of the best residency programs in the country, and Metro-General in New York, where the famous Doctor Stephen Strange worked.

Stephen and my father constantly were in a battle for neuro supremacy, and he was my medical idol, which made Derek roll his eyes at me. I mean, I was his daughter and I idolized his rival. Cristiana, Meredith and I used to gossip all about Doctor Stephen Strange though, talking about his medical techniques to how hot he was. This almost always ended up with Cristina and/or Meredith telling me to sleep with him, since both of them couldn’t.

When Derek died, to say I lost it was an understatement. By then, I barely saw Addison; all I had was Derek and his new family. But without Derek, the house was too quiet, too dark. I knew I should have stayed, been there for Meredith. But I couldn’t look at any of his things. Grey-Sloan Memorial became less of a safe, happy, place for me, and more of my own personal hell.

Which is why I accepted the residency at Metro-General.

Moving across the country to New York was difficult. Meredith had completely shut down, and Cristina stayed with her to make sure she didn’t hurt herself. That left Alex Karev and Miranda Bailey to help me. It wasn’t as bad as I expected, they were both nice and happy to help. I saw a lot of Alex at home, and he was a weird brother to me. Of course, Miranda attempted a few more times to have me take a position at Grey-Sloan, but I declined, and explained that I needed to be in a new place where Derek never touched, in order to recover. I also told her that, in a few years, might return as a Neuro attending, which she accepted.

My first day at Metro-General was neve racking, to say the least.

My always steady hands, that I prided myself on, would not stop shaking.

I knew the chances of me having Doctor Strange as my attending right off the back were slim. I knew the chances of me standing out, or of him even liking me, were even slimmer.

I just had to make sure I didn’t make a fool of myself in front of him.

When I got to the hospital, I found that the Residency program was smaller than I was expecting. Each Attending had two residents instead of four.

While this surprised me, and somewhat frightened me, I was also excited, all for the same reason: I would be spending more time with Doctor Strange.

A couple minutes passed and the working attendings filed into the locker room.

My breathe caught in my throat being so close to him. My first thought was that he was taller than I expected.

After the Chief of Surgery gave a big speech about new beginnings, and that we were the new generation of medicine, what we would see, what we would do, what were expected of us, and do on; the doctors, one by one, began listening off their pair of residents.

“Doctors Anderson and Montgomery-Shepherd.” Doctor Strange read, not looking up from his clipboard, though a small smirk played on his lips.

When all the doctors finished calling out their residents, we all moved out.

“Anderson, there is a long list of patients in the pit, see to them.” Doctor Strange said quickly, not even look up from the chart he was holding when he pointed to the pile of charts for the pit, which were on the desk next to us. And just like that, Anderson was gone.

This was the work of residents. I knew it was coming, but I still wasn’t looking forwards to it. No one liked doing resident work, the long shifts, barely leaving the hospital, doing research, and doing your attending’s dirty work.

“Montgomery-Shepherd, you’re with me.” Doctor Strange finished, and quickly began walking.

Say something.

I kept telling myself I should be saying something. Anything.

But I couldn’t.

I hatred myself for being stuck in a star struck fashion, I really did.

If Cristina was here, she would have kicked my ass already.

Or pushed me into him.

I don’t know which is worse.

“I’m sorry about your loss.” Doctor Strange, said, surprisingly.

I knew him to be arrogant, not caring about anyone but himself; his comment took me off guard.

“Thank you.” I replied quietly.

“Are you always this quiet?” He asked, stopping to look at me.

Unsure of how to respond, I gave a small shrug. “I guess so, Doctor.”

He sighed, “we’re going to have to work on that. You’re a doctor. You need to act like it.”

And with that we were walking again.

“Your father was a brilliant man. Our rivalry was just for show; I want you to know that.”

I nodded. I had hoped that there would be no comments about Derek here. But I suppose if I wanted that, I should have unhyphenated my name. But my name was the last real part of Derek I had. I couldn’t let that go.

“Head of your class at University of Washington School of Medicine, outstanding work, you should be very proud of yourself.” Doctor Strange continued.

My heart began to beat faster. Why did he know, or care so much about me?

“I’ve read your dissertation about providing oxygen to dying cells to prolong the time period before nerve damage occurs, almost twenty-times.” I said quickly, trying to change the subject back to him.

He furrowed his brows.

“Twenty-times, a little excessive for someone who knows subjects like that like the back of your own hand.”

Again, his comment surprised me. This time, I found my voice.

“I’m sorry? How, and why, do you know so much about me?”

“Derek used to talk all about you at the Neurosurgery committees. He wouldn’t stop bragging about how smart and beautiful you are. How you had the Shephard gene for Neurosurgery and that you were going to peruse it. Follow in his footsteps. He was insanely proud of you.” The Doctor’s voice softened the further he spoke.

I was stunned silent and stopped walking.

“That is why I asked for you. I see now that Derek was not exaggeration your beauty, which means he must not have been exaggerating your intelligence. I’m going to make sure you live up to your father’s legacy and create your own. And luckily for you, you’ll be working under the best surgeon in the hospital, me.” Doctor Strange smirked at him, his arrogance seeming to come back.

He patted me on the shoulder, in an almost robotic sense.

Everything took a minute to process. When it did, all I could do was nod.

Then it hit me.

Did Stephen Strange just call me beautiful?

I guess that Doctor Strange came to the conclusion of my thoughts, because he gave a small laugh and smiled at me before nodding his head towards a long hall, before beginning to make his way in that direction.

I quickly walked after him.

Residency wasn’t looking too bad at the moment.

And I couldn’t stop myself from remembering all the fantasies I had about this man, Cristina’s “words of wisdom”, and that Meredith and Cristina had both married their attendings.

Maybe, just maybe, the mention relationship I have with the great Doctor Stephen Strange would evolve into one of sex or romance.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when Doctor Strange guided me into a scan room and put up a scan of a large spinal column tumor.

“Normally, we aren’t supposed to let residents in on such complicated surgeries so soon. But I need an assistant.” Doctor Strange smiled at me, placing his hands on his hips. “What do you say?”

He just keeps surprising me, and I’ve been with him for under an hour!

“Shouldn’t you get someone who’s more qualified than me? Another Neuro attending?” I asked quietly, keeping my eyes fixed on the tumor.

My brain had already begun developing theories on the best way to approach the tumor, without damaging the spinal cord it was resting against.

“You’re more qualified than the other Neuro surgeon in this hospital. Trust me.”

I nodded.

“Nick told me that this tumor was impossible to remove. I think otherwise, and I’m not one for taking on cases I don’t think I can fix. After all, I don’t want to damage my perfect record.” Again, I could hear the arrogance behind his words, but I was used to it from Mark Sloan. “And I can tell by the way you’re looking at it, that you agree with me.”

We spent the next few hours discussing tactics on how to approach the tumor, only ending the session because Doctor Strange wanted lunch.

He invited me to sit with him during lunch and we discussed a range of topics over the short break. One of which being my name.

“Montgomery-Shepherd is a mouthful. Can I call you by just one of those? Or your first name?” He asked in, what I can figure, the nicest way he could.

“Shepherd works for me. Or Jennifer. Or Jen.” I shrugged.

Doctor Strange smiled and nodded.

“Welcome to Metro-General’s Neurosurgery, Doctor Jennifer Shepherd.”

He extended his hand to me, which I took.

“Thank you, Doctor Strange.”

———-

Part 2?????

Date a girl who writes. She would rather have a new book to read than a new diamond ring. You would never have to go to a bar at one in the morning to pick her up because she drank too much again. At one in the morning, she would be beside you in bed, looking at you and thinking of a million ways to describe the mole on your lip.


She would introduce you to the most beautiful words that you’ve never even heard before. She will say the sweetest, most unique things to you because her mind always comes up with a new poetic way to say she loves you.


Date a girl who writes because she doesn’t forget. Every moment, big or small, will be etched to her brain and that memory would end up in her writings somewhere. She finds a way to make simple actions seem like grand gestures. She will describe the way you hold her waist as a feeling of warmth that spreads throughout her body like wildfire. Things you say that intrigue her would be instantly memorized by heart to write about later.


She will write about you. You will be dispersed through the pages of her overpriced notebook – one that you might have given her. With every stroke of her pen, she will make you eternal – everlasting in both her work and heart. Years from now, people will read about a character inspired by you.


Most of all, date a girl who writes because she will love you more than words themselves. She will fall for you as hard as she’s fallen for fictional characters in novels. She will appreciate everything you do because she finds a deeper meaning to everything. Date a girl who writes because she will write about you like you put the breath in her lungs.

—  i wrote this while appreciating the fact that my boyfriend puts up with me even though i spend a lot of time with my nose in my notebook and a pen in my hand
Interviews- Dylan Sprayberry

A/N: So I had a mental battle about this, and after some hard thoughts, I decided to make Dylan about 22/23 so it wouldn't be completely inappropriate. I’m really sorry if you still find it very cringy.

Other A/N: Okay, so, I never officially said this in the story (I forgot to write it in) but Dylan and the Reader play on a DIFFERENT show that’s not Teen Wolf. I chose the name Isaac because it was the only name in my head at the time. I hope this clears up some confusion!

Other info: (Y/C/N) = Your Character Name

(Fun fact: All the “character” names were chosen from different TV shows, and “TJ” is a real person. Can you guess where they came from and who TJ is?)

Doing interviews with Dylan Sprayberry was always interesting.


It wasn’t just because he joked around and made grand entrances, it was mainly because everybody thought you were dating. Sure, he was attractive, you’d give him that, but he just wasn’t your type. You grew up together, and the thought of dating your best friend left you disgusted and numb. You’d been with this boy through everything, and you hated when people assumed you were a thing. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him though, maybe all the years of watching him change into this wonderfully polite man cemented the feelings, or maybe it because you had shared kisses before, or maybe it was because he was always there for you. Whatever the reason was, you knew you could never be together. He didn’t like you like that, and you doubted he ever would.


“So, what’s it like working with each other?” The interviewer, Margo, asked, looking from Dylan to you with glittering eyes. A look of mischief crossed her perky face, teeth catching her bottom lip as she smiled. “Is it always fun and exciting like its shown in bloopers?”


You looked over at Dylan and smiled, a shock of electricity running through you when his warm hand ran over yours. “I don’t know, it’s pretty exciting when Dylan’s around. He never takes anything serious and he’s always ruining the sets.” You teased, turning your attention back to Margo. She nodded and looked over at Dylan, waiting for his response patiently. Dylan shifted in his seat awkwardly and rolled his eyes at you.


“I am not always ruining the set. TJ ruined it last time.” He scoffed and shook his head with a light chuckle. “It’s pretty much always fun. It’s because we have such a tight connection in our cast, that one person messes up, it automatically becomes funny.” He commented, looking down at his hand that was rubbing circles on your palm.


“Well, I have some questions from the fans about Isaac and (Y/C/N).” Margo hummed, pulling out the several cards hidden behind her back. She pulled the tab open for the first one, reading the question out loud. “Do you ever wish you had gotten a different character roll?”


“Yes.” You answered honestly, shifting in your seat with a breath of relief. “I wish I had been picked for the roll of Garcia, I just feel like I connected more with that character than I did with (Y/C/N), however, finding out that I would get to spend a lot of time on set with Dylan made me realize I loved being (Y/C/N) more.” There was a rush of  'awes’ in the crowd, your face going red from the reaction.


Dylan smiled at you and winked. “The chemistry Isaac and (Y/C/N) share is one that I personally love, it’s always fun being able to make out with my best friend.” He nudged you with his arm playfully, laughing when he saw your eyes roll. “I like Isaac, I feel like I can relate to him, and no, I’m glad I got Isaac and I would never change him out for anything.”


Margo chuckled and opened the next card, clearing her throat. “Question for Y/N.” You straightened up and smiled, your eyes lashes fluttering. “Isaac and (Y/C/N) have had some pretty heated moments, and this fan want to know, what was it like being able to take Dylan’s shirt off?” There was a gasp in the audience followed by whistles and claps.


Your jaw dropped to the floor, a squeak leaving your throat as a blush rose to fill your face. You could feel Dylan’s eyes on you, your own searching the room in embarrassment. You tried to calm yourself down, taking deep breaths until you were ready. “Well.” You started, swallowing before shifting again uncomfortably in your seat. You flattened your palms out on your dress, biting your bottom lip lightly. “It’s uncomfortable for the most part. I don’t know if I’m doing it the right way, and its just really embarrassing. Most of the time I end up bumping heads with Dylan, or falling off the bed.” Laughter came from the crowd and you smiled. “Actually, the first time we had to shoot one of the scenes, I smacked my head against the sound mic and Dylan wouldn’t stop laughing. We had to shoot that scene at least seven times before we got it right.” You hummed, musing over the fond memory. “I like shooting the scenes though, it’s like I get lost in the roll and it feels so real. There have been many times after we’ve shot the scene that Dylan and I just lay there on the bed with almost nothing on laughing at each other.” You stuttered out that last part, scratching the back of your neck with an embarrassed chuckle.


Margo hummed in amusement looking at Dylan with a smile. “Do you feel the same?”


Dylan looked at you with a wink. “Definitely. Sometimes, I just wish we could take out the other parts and just shoot those scenes.” There was a couple of whistles from the crowd, your face growing bright red when his words left his mouth. Margo laughed and looked between the two of you, noticing the tension in the air.


“Last question for today.” Margo started, pulling the tab open with a nervous smile. “Are you guys currently dating each other?” There was nothing but complete silence until there were people chanting for you to answer to the question. You turned to look at Dylan with a nervous glance, seeing his cheeky smile.


“We’re not dating.” You started, feeling your cheeks turning crimson. “I’m sorry to say but I’m still very much single.” You hummed, throwing your hands up in defeat when the crowd groaned.


“You guys are so stubborn. Just kiss her!” Someone from the audience screamed.


Dylan turned to smile at you, his eyes twinkling as he shook his head. “Yeah, I think its time we both stop kidding ourselves. We’ve been dating since the moment we became Isaac and (Y/C/N).” He said clearly, leaning slowly over to press a kiss against your lips. There was a small pause before you kissed back on instinct, your fingers lacing together his warm ones. There was a roar of applause and screams as you started pulling away, out of breath and blushing.


You looked at each other deeply and smiled, the happiness and excitement visible in your eyes. “I love you.” You whispered, turning to look at Margo when she awed.


“Well, as much as I want this to keep going, it has to end. Thank you for coming out today, and I wish you luck in your relationship and luck on your show.”

anonymous asked:

Do you have any recommendations for a fic where Bucky is physically miserable, and maybe there's not much anyone can do but let it pass? Like he's dealing with anything like chronic pain, insomnia, or headaches and is just generally in near-constant pain? Been dealing with an injury for a while now, and for some reason I feel like reading something like that would help. Thanks for all your hard work.

Yes I do indeed have some for you!

Acute Case of Fate by sikecarton

Since his accident, Bucky seems to spend more time in the school clinic than in his actual classes. One day, he strikes up a conversation with the only person who seems to be there more than him: Steve Rogers.

An End Weight by hannathing

He wears his pain like a tattoo on his body. Its an anchor, pulling and pulling and pulling. It’s a fact of his life, he wakes, he aches, he breathes. He thinks its fine, just fine, ok? Until Steve finds out.

Thawed Out by auburnnothenna (auburn), eretria

He’s not the Asset. He’s not the Winter Soldier. But neither is he Bucky Barnes. With the help of Steve, Sam and the Avengers, James takes the long, slow road to recovery. Nothing is as easy as either of them thought it would be.

These American Dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) by kariye 

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.

yesterday, the night before, tomorrow by breakeven

“Want me to wake you at 2 in the morning and ask you to choke me ‘til I black out?”

“If it’ll help.”

Bucky has insomnia, some issues, and Steve.

@the-art-of-wait sent in The Water Can’t Drown Me by camwolfe

@berefetandbreathless sent inTargeting by queenmab_scherzo