“There.” You withdraw your hand from the young boys forehead and smile up at who you think is his mother. “He’s going to be fine.”
The woman sobs in relief and takes your hands, kissing them softly. “Blagodaryu vas, angel. Spasibo.”
You smile softly and kiss her hands in return before dropping them. At moments like these, you’re grateful to Natasha for teaching you her native language, plus some more. “Dobro pozhalovat.’” And with that, you stand up to go find someone else on the lifeboat who needs urgent care. When you get to your feet however, the world blurs in front of you, and you would have fallen if it wasn’t for a purple and black blur catching you.
After a couple of seconds, the world comes into focus again, and you step out Clint’s arms to lean against the railing briefly. “Thank you.”
He looks at you concernedly. “You can’t keep this up for much longer, (y/n). Even I can see you’re fading.”
You smile softly at him. “I’m a healer, Steve. It’s what I do.”
“Costel?” You spin around to face a small blonde woman sitting in the corner of the lifeboat. Her eyes are frantic as she looks around at her fellow survivors. “Costel!”
“Ma’am,” you step forward and kneel in front of her, “ma’am, you must calm down. Uspokoysya,” you say soothingly. She leans back once again, and you smile softly at her. “Who is Costel?”
“My son,” she replies, voice shaking with fear. “I was last with him at the groceries, but we got separated.” The woman dissolves into sobs, and you quickly take her into your arms. You look over your shoulder at Clint and nod at him. He sighs and nods back before taking off and away from the boat to find the woman’s son.
You gently push the woman away from you and take her head into your hands. She is displaying obvious signs of of shock, so you gently place your thumbs on her forehead and begin to work some of your healing power into her mind. “What is your name?”
“Ah.” You smile as you see her begin to visibly relax as your power begins to work through her mind. “And where do you live, Zrinka?”
She’s about to respond, but is cut off by the sound of a lot of people on the boat screaming. You stand up and whirl around, trying to find what they’re all looking at. Steve stands by the edge of the lifeboat, and you rush forward to meet him. The ground shakes yet again, and you barely keep yourself from falling. “What’s going on?” you yell over the noise.
He’s squinting against the sun, and you watch as he points upwards. “Ultron.” Your heart sinks as you look at the Quinjet being flown by the enemy you naively thought was dead. You jog off of the lifeboat and onto the destroyed street of Sokovia, looking to your right to see where Ultron is headed.
You gasp. “No,” you whisper before screaming: “Clint!”
He turns around to face you with who must be Costel in his arms, and you point frantically up at the Quinjet bearing down on him. Just as you do, the jet’s guns open fire, and you scream as it passes over where Clint and the child stand before veering off to the right. You take off towards them, and you hear Steve do the same behind you.
But when you get there, instead of seeing a dead teammate, you see a car flipped on its side, and a body riddled with bullets.
You don’t hear what the male Maximoff says before he falls over onto his side. Gasping softly, you rush the last couple of steps over to his side. Clint lays down the little boy and joins you at Pietro’s side, and Steve does the same. “Steve, put pressure … anywhere,” you order. “Clint, get htat boy out of here.
“Now!” you yell. Clint is taken aback by your sudden abrasiveness. You’ve always been the cool-headed one on the team. He backs away and picks up Costel, taking him with him to the lifeboat. Steve’s gloves are quickly getting covered in blood, and you lean forward and press your hands down on Pietro’s chest.
“He’s fading,” you yell. You grimace at the uncomfortable pull in your chest as you let your energy flow into Pietro’s barely-living body. You’ve never felt this pull before, but it immediately tells you you’re nearing the end of your energy.
“(y/n),” Steve mutters, glancing at you quickly. “We have to go.”
Tears blur your vision, and you press down harder on Pietro’s chest. It seems like some of the wounds on his chest begin to close, and the pull in your chest grows stronger. “No.”
“(y/n).” Steve sighs. “He’s going to die. We have to get out of here so we don’t to.”
“No!” You scream, slamming your hands down on the ground. Your tear-filled eyes meet Steve’s worried blue ones. “I’m not letting anyone else die today,” you state determinedly.
And with that, you push one hand down on Pietro’s chest and one on his head, letting your thumb rest in the center of his forehead. Your eyes flutter shut as you push all of your energy into saving the newest avenger’s life. You feel the tips of your fingers grow cold as the icy energy flows out of your body and into Pietro’s, and you open your eyes to see blue light flowing out of your fingertips and into his forehead, closing his wounds.
And you continue to let that energy flow until there’s nothing left.
Steve gasps when the blue light surrounding the three of you suddenly disappears. He looks at you just in time to see your eyes roll back and you crumple to the ground. “(y/n)!” he yells, scrambling around the young speedster’s still motionless body to kneel next to you. He pulls you into his lap and rips off his left glove with his teeth.
At that moment, Pietro shoots upwards, gasping for air. He glances around panickedly before his eyes settle on Steve and he relaxes a little. But then he sees your motionless, ashen-faced form laying in Steve’s arm. “Iisus Khristos,” he whispers, “what happened?”
Steve lays his glove-less hand on your throat, feeling for a pulse. But he finds none. He curses and leans back, tilting his head to face the sky. “She’s gone.”
(1) Thank you, angel. Thank you. (2) You are welcome. (3) Jesus Christ
I currently have 16 days left of school and I'm very stressed out to the point, where I'm vomiting. Anyways, could you possibly write a very fluffy scenario with either 76 or Jesse and them trying to calm and relax their s/o?? Thank you so much sugar!! 🌸
I’m SO sorry this is a few days late!! I’ve been hella stressed myself and finally caught up on my classwork from being sick with a cold. I hope you feel better really soon and I hope that this helps make you feel a little better! I send lots of love and hugs and support and positivity spells your way!
So, how about 76 AND Jesse? :0
“Jesse, usually, when your romantic partner is stressed, your job as their romantic partner is help them chill out, not kick them out of their home for hours!” You pressed your thumb and forefinger against the bridge of your nose and you waited for your boyfriend to reply on the other end of the receiver. You sat in a large squishy armchair in some random study cafe, waiting for your dear, dorky significant other to allow you to come home.
“I’m sorry, darlin’, I really am!” McCree exclaimed over the droning chatter that went on in the background on his end. “Just promise me you won’t head home until I tell ya to. I’m planning something fun fer us. It’ll help calm ya down, I promise.”
You sighed softly but a small smile graced your lips anyways. He was going overboard but at least he was trying his best.
“Fine,” you replied. “Just don’t take forever.”
You settled down in your big leather armchair and occupied yourself with casual mobile games and the occasional drink refill until, more than a couple hours later, Jesse shot a text your way: “Mosey on home lil darllin’, I got a surprise 4 you” ending with a smiling cowboy emoji. With a snicker, you paid and made your way home.
“Cowman?” you hollered as you made your way into your house. Your boyfriend was nowhere to be found but you could hear rattling in the backyard.
As if to confirm your suspicions, Jesse hollered from the backyard patio, “Out here, sweet pea! I’m just finishing setting up!”
“This better be good, cowman!” You snorted and tossed your jacket in the entryway closet before making your way through the small house and out to the backyard, where you stopped and gasped.
The patio had been transformed into a gazebo of sorts, with dark blue and cream-colored sheets hanging off the roof’s overhang and draped over the railings. Dim, white leftover Christmas lights decorated the stair rail leading into the yard, as well as the patio swing and he back door. A nest of sleeping bags and blankets covered the side adjacent to the patio swing, bordered by several TV dinner trays holding snacks and a portable holographic DVD player.
Beyond the patio, the backyard was surrounded by black night, though more dim lights seemed to flit around in the bushes of your garden, matching the stars that twinkled in the sky. The picnic table that was usually hidden along one side of the house, due to lack of company, had been moved to the yard’s center, cleaned up, and covered with a thick blanket. Sitting on the edge of the table was McCree, wearing his best faded plaid shirt and jeans, holding his arms out wide and sporting a cocky, welcoming grin.
“Christ, McCree,” you murmured, stepping off the last step into into the yard, “I was expecting dinner or a musical or something, not all this.”
“You were having an especially rough time, so I created an especially great night fer us.” The cowboy slipped off the table and strolled over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. He kissed your forehead before turning you around to have your back against his chest and facing the backyard scenery once again. Resting his chin on your shoulder and pressing his lips against your ear, he continued in a low, slow voice, “So, ‘ere’s my plan. First, we’ll lay out here on the picnic table and stargaze for a bit. Just talk and stuff. Then, after it gets cold, we’ll migrate to the fort where we’ll cozy up, pig out, and watch an awesome collection of old Westerns and cheesy musicals until we fall doze off. How’s that sound?”
“Absolutely amazing, Jesse.” You placed your hands over his where they lightly rubbed your waist and turned your head to kiss his scruffy jaw. “Thank you so much.”
“Nothing’s too much for you, sweetheart,” your favorite cowman replied. He returned the kiss before releasing you, then placing a hand in yours to lead you tothe blanket-clad picnic table to start your cozy nightly adventure.
“God has given you a beautiful self. There God dwells and loves
you with the first love, which precedes all human love. You carry your
own beautiful, deeply loved self in your heart.
long as your vulnerable self does not feel welcomed by you, it keeps so
distant that it cannot show you its true beauty and wisdom. Thus, you
survive without really living.
Jesus dwells in your fearful, never fully received self. When you
befriend your true self and discover that it is good and beautiful, you
will see Jesus there. Where you are most human, most yourself, weakest,
there Jesus lives. Bringing your fearful self home is bringing Jesus
Hey could you please pray for me I struggle with sexual sins ... right now it's just so easy for me to get engulfed in the temptations that I don't realize I'm doing those things... although I'm not doing this things everyday the temptations happen often... I'm not really sure what to do but I just want to be freed from this burden ... Also I often feel extremely guilty from struggling ... thank you!
You are in my prayers! I think you will find one of my recent posts really helpful. I gave prayer advice and links to websites that aim to help us fight impurity. We really need to pray without ceasing. I highly recommend praying the Rosary every day. The Blessed Mother wants to intercede for you.
Remember that Christ welcomes us back to Himself with open and loving arms.
At least Tony's vest serves a purpose (ab window). What's going on with everybody's least favorite southern dad??? Is he fishing later?????????
okay i love this message and i feel you but also IM LOSING MY FUCKING MIND OVER “AB WINDOW” BEING A VIABLE FUNCTION????????????? AN AB WINDOW IS NOT A POCKET! AN AB WINDOW IS NOT A COZY HOOD!!! AN AB WINDOW IS AN AB WINDOW…ITS FUNCTIONAL IN THE SAME WAY A BOOB WINDOW IS…FANSERVICE IS A PURPOSE I GUESS BUT IM LOSING MY MIND OVER THIS WORDING
Hello! I really love your writing. I was wondering if you could write the RFA+V+Saeran and ballerina!MC? (I lowkey want to see what happens if she comes home late with crazy stage makeup on. I mean, wouldn't that be hilarious--)
I’ve made a post about ballerina!MC before, this’ll be like a part two of some sort
• i swear zen’s been in crazy makeup once at least because of one play that acquired more stage makeup than usual