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luveline · 1 year

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Hii!!! This is a request for Steve zombie!au

I don’t know how you do it but this au (and everything you write honestly) ITS AMAZING!!!!

I read that you wanted to eventually write about Steve+reader having kids so I was wondering if maybe you could write something like them talking about what they think their future would look like or Steve seeing reader interact with children and it just warms his heart… idk

Again, your work is truly so so so good, I love it!!

Hope you have a beautiful day <3

hi! thank you 🥺 I hope this is what you mean!! steve zombie!au ♥︎ fem!reader

On a rare day where you have work to do in the community and Steve doesn't, he misses you like crazy. He'd complain profusely about this wicked scenario to Robin, if only Robin weren't on shift too. As it lies, Steve is alone, bored and restless with your pillow pulled against his chest.

Steve is functional. Steve is a fully grown man, with hobbies, interests, and a personality outside of being with you. But Steve is in love, and he isn't ashamed to admit that his very favourite hobby is being with you. You are the most interesting thing around.

It's cold today, though he wears two pairs of socks, denim jeans, a long-sleeved shirt and a loose hoodie under the thick layer of blankets you keep on the bed.

You must be cold.

Your jacket's right there on the door. You'd forgotten to take it with you to the kitchen.

Steve doesn't feel proud of himself, per se, but he also doesn't feel ashamed when he ends up in the doorway of the cafeteria. School is in session, their makeshift teacher Sammy standing near the dishes trolly with a whiteboard and pen. She's drawn a huge diagram of a piece of paper with cuts missing, and a smaller one of that paper seemingly after the cuts are made, labelled Origami Giraffe.

He's surprised to see you near immediately, sitting at one of the cafeteria tables with a bundle of the community's youngest children (babies and toddlers not included).

You're snipping at a sheet of paper slowly, hands held up so the dark-haired girl to your right can reach the crayons in front of you.

"Will you cut mine for me next, please?" a blonde headed boy asks him. He's pale, and as Steve draws closer he can see the little boy's brown eyes.

He kind of looks like me, Steve thinks, startled.

"Of course I will," you say gently. "You're a great artist, honey, I love all these purples and greens you're using."

"It doesn't look like the driraffe."

His mispronunciation has you smiling. It's an expression Steve knows well, your guilty bemusement.

"That's okay! Do you know how many drawings of giraffes there are? Millions and trillions, and I bet none of them are as brightly made or as creative as the one you've made."

"What about mine?" the dark-haired girl asks.

You pause your cutting to peek at her giraffe. "That's so cute, I love it," you praise. "Wow, I'm sitting with the next Picasso's and I didn't even know it."

Your voice… Steve's barely ever heard you speak like that. So soft, and so loving.

Not that you don't speak to him sweetly, half the time he thinks your words are more love than sense, but this is new. That's how parents talk to their kids, how sisters talk to younger siblings, and aunties talk to niblings. It's a familial, mellow sound.

It kind of drives him crazy. He tightens his hands in the fabric of your jacket, head racing with thoughts he hadn't stopped to think of before. You with kids. You with a family, his family. Kids that look like you, that carry your features and your sweetness around for you when you can't.

Kids that don't look a thing like you, or him.

You put down the scissors and hand over a freshly cut, stand-up giraffe to one of the kids. It looks great, and the kid says thank you with a clumsy ardency that you clearly adore.

"You're welcome, Nina," you say. "I'll do yours next, Hal, if you're ready."

The blonde boy passes you his giraffe. Before you take up the scissors again, you look at the boy's front, and you laugh kindly. "Baby, your buttons are all wrong. They're wonky, see?"

"Oh," Hal says, looking down, "I don't know how to do them."

"I can help, if you want."

He nods voraciously. You start to correct his buttons in silence, and Steve isn't afraid to admit to himself that it's the last straw. There is something endearing, hypnotising about watching you take care of others, he thinks the forbidden words — you would make the most beautiful mother.

You giggle and straighten Hal's shirt when you're done. "Tada."

"Thanks," Hal says, sounding pleased.

"You're super welcome. Stevie?"

It takes Steve a second to realise you're talking to him. You're looking up at him where he's frozen, concern knitting together your darling brows. "Is everything okay?"

"I just– brought your jacket. It's cold."

You stand up from the table and pat Hal on the shoulder, a frown twisting over your face.

"You look pale," you say, taking your jacket. You pull it on one arm at a time, and tilt your head back as Steve dives in to zip it up. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," he says. I'm going insane, he thinks.

"You caught me slacking off."

"This is slacking off?"

You huff a laugh. "Well, yeah. I should be checking the dates on a box of cornflour right now."

"You haven't mentioned this," —he gestures vaguely at the table of art's and crafts— "before. Do you come in here a lot?"

You hum as you wrap your hands around his wrists. You pull his hands to your shoulders, and grin when he gets the memo and gives you a hug.

"Thanks for bringing my jacket."

His hand scrapes up your back, trying to pull you closer when you're as close as you can possibly be. "You know how busy my schedule is."

"I know." Your sarcasm is biting. "My poor boy." Less so.

You pull away and he still can't believe it. You have an air of content about you, a lightness he's always amazed to see.

"Sammy asks me for arts and crafts help all the time. The uh, apocalypse kind of threw a spanner into the works for most of these kids. Some of them don't know how to write, or use scissors. And we all know they barely need me in the pantry, they could replace me with a well organised book."

"Do you like helping out here?" he asks carefully.

"Yeah, I do."

His head is reeling.

The future is a long way away and right here at the same time. You and Steve could make something.

He doesn't know what you want. Maybe you don't want kids, maybe you won't be ready for another ten years, but the possibility isn't something Steve can ignore.

"You can stay and help if you want to?" you ask.

He doesn't have control over his own body when he nods, a panging ache in his chest for the possible future. You beam and lead him over to the table of children, taking up your scissors as Steve settles in a chair a ways away from you.

"Hi, guys, this is my boyfriend, Steve. I bet some of you have seen him before. He's gonna help us with the cutting out, okay?"

Steve smiles at the gaggle of little faces that turn his way. "Hey, guys. I'm a way better cutter outer than Y/N, so if you want the best giraffe you gotta ask me."

Some are old enough to understand his sarcasm, and some aren't. He's delighted when Hal, the blonde-haired, brown-eyed boy, turns to you to stroke your arm. "It's okay," he says, "I still think you're the best one."

"Thank you, Hal."

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction

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winxanity-ii · 7 months

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𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐈𝐭 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭. 𝐏𝐑𝐓.𝟐

╚»★«╝ 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐞𝐧: 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 & 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 x 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐨!𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ╚»★«╝

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: angst(?)

‌🇷‌🇦‌🇹‌🇮‌🇳‌🇬‌: non-explicit

🇵‌🇴‌🇻‌: 2nd person; You/Your

🇩‌🇪‌🇸‌🇨‌🇷‌🇮‌🇵‌🇹‌🇮‌🇴‌🇳‌: in which, you unlock a new power and find your footing.

🇼‌🇴‌🇷‌🇩‌ 🇨‌🇴‌🇺‌🇳‌🇹‌: 2.9k

🇦‌/🇳‌‌: Hope you guys enjoyed prt.1 just as much as i did making it, now on to the next part, viola!...go to 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐡, 𝐍𝐨. ʲʲᵏ if you want to understand this; also Y/n's (your) power/ability descriptions will be at the very bottom.

★·.·´🇯‌🇺‌🇯‌🇺‌🇹‌🇸‌🇺‌ 🇰‌🇦‌🇮‌🇸‌🇪‌🇳‌ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

The fluorescent lights overhead hum in a monotone chorus, casting their sterile glow on your wooden desk—old, filled with the initials of students who've come and gone. Classroom walls are decked with posters of the periodic table and scientific luminaries, but your eyes are elsewhere.

You're seated beside Riko Amanai. She's engrossed in her textbook, her pen dancing over the paper as she highlights key sentences. Her entire demeanor screams 'average high school student,' which is what makes her so perfect as the Star Plasma Vessel. It's surreal; how someone so crucial to a powerful, arcane ritual can sit there and worry about high school quizzes like everyone else.

Your eyes drift down to your biochemistry textbook, tracing complicated diagrams of cellular activities. And then it happens—the air in the room shifts, and you feel a subtle prickling sensation crawling up the back of your neck. Your grip tightens on your pencil, and a bolt of adrenaline shoots through you. Eyes flicking up, you scan the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary. The teacher still stands at the front, lost in his lecture, blissfully unaware of the tension that's just folded itself into the room like a hidden layer in a complex origami.

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

You stood in a dimly lit room, standing in front of Gojo and Geto.

Gojo's eyes were hidden behind that characteristic blindfold of his, but you knew he was examining you intently.

"Why exactly am I here?" you had questioned, arms crossed. "I don't see how I can contribute much. My power set isn't fully fleshed out yet."

Gojo had chuckled. "Oh, you underestimate yourself. Look, you have something that neither Geto nor I have: the ability to blend in and be utterly charming."

You had raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Charming? Really?"

Gojo had grinned wider. "Okay, maybe not charming. But you're relatable, and you're cute enough to befriend Riko without raising suspicion. Plus, you can sense cursed energy, right? That alone makes you valuable."

You had sighed. "Fine, I'll do it. But only because you're terrible at making friends."

"Ouch, you wound me," Gojo had teased, but his eyes—though hidden—were serious. "Keep her safe, Y/N."

The fire alarm blares, disrupting the classroom's fragile peace. "Fire drill," the teacher announces, and the class is quickly escorted outside. You and Riko gather your things, the air tinged with the students' mixed feelings of curiosity and annoyance at the abrupt interruption.

As you walk out of the classroom in a single file, you're hyper-aware of every little detail. The weight of Riko's backpack as she slings it over her shoulder, the whispers weaving through the crowd, and most importantly, the discordant hum of cursed energy that seems to pervade the air. The warning bells in your mind go off like a klaxon; something is terribly wrong.

"Stay close," you mouth to Riko, your eyes meeting hers. There's an unspoken understanding there; she senses the urgency in your gaze and nods, gripping her bag a little tighter.

The throng of students spill out into the yard, filling it with chatter and confused faces. Teachers try to bring order, to line everyone up by class, but you're already tuned into something else. A pulse of cursed energy, far stronger than before, sweeps over the yard like an invisible tsunami. Your every nerve screams, instincts honed from relentless training crying out in alarm.

At that moment, the atmosphere shifts tangibly. Breaking through the crowd is a hulking figure with a paper bag masking his face. His focus is dead set on you and Riko. There's no mistaking it—this is a curse user, and he's coming fast.

As he lunges with alarming speed, something deep within you awakens. Your eyes blaze with an energy you've never felt before. It's like you've tapped into some previously locked reservoir, something elemental, something potent.

"Elemental Mastery: Creation's Forge"**

With barely a thought, a translucent shield bursts into existence between you and the incoming attacker. His blade collides with your shield in a shower of sparks, cursed energy fizzling against the shimmering barrier you've conjured.

But then you hear it—a faint gasp from Riko. Glancing her way, you see a thin streak of blood on her arm. Your shield had materialized a fraction of a second too late, allowing the blade to nick her.

"Are you okay?" you ask, eyes widening.

"I'll manage," she grimaces.

Without a second thought, you reach out and place your hand on her wounded arm.

"Elemental Mastery: Soul Link"**

You channel some of your newfound energy into her, healing her wound. The sensation of a soul-bond snapping into place is overwhelming. Riko's emotions—her fear, her fatigue, and that slight pulse of pain from the wound—flood into you in an overpowering wave.

But then something magical happens. You feel her emotional and physical state shift; she's drawing strength from you, becoming emboldened as the energy courses through her body stitching her skin anew.

"This is new," she says, a glint of awe in her eyes.

"Yeah," you agree, slightly dazed from the experience. "New, and complicated."

Focusing back on what's at hand, your eyes narrow as another wave of clones materializes around you and Riko. They move in, blades brandished and ready. But before you can make your next move, a spectacle unfurls before your eyes. A crackling surge of energy, so swift it's almost a blur, cleaves through the crowd. Gojo and Misato burst onto the scene, landing lightly on their feet as if they're stepping off a cloud.

Gojo's sunglasses reflect the afternoon sun, making it impossible to read his eyes, but the wry smile on his lips says it all. "Looks like you two could use a little backup," he drawls.

Misato stands beside him, her own eyes ablaze with focused energy. Her hand extends and, in a fluid motion, she releases a volley of talisman-guided missiles. The papers sail through the air, zipping around erratically before homing in on their targets. When they make contact with the clones, an explosion of cursed energy reduces them to mere ash.

But Gojo, ever the show-off, takes it up another notch. He pulls down the blindfold over his eyes and suddenly, the very air seems to thicken, as if unable to withstand the force of his cursed technique. Then, with an almost lazy flick of his hand, he generates a dome of invisible energy that encapsulates the clones who have evaded Misato's initial attack.

For a moment, they float within the dome, as if suspended in time, seemingly unharmed. But then, a ripple runs through the sphere, and it collapses inward. It happens so quickly that if you blinked, you would miss it. When the dome vanishes, all that remains of the clones is a dissipating mist of cursed energy, absorbed into the ether as if they'd never existed.

As the remnants of the clones disintegrate, Gojo replaces his blindfold, his expression returning to its usual nonchalance. His eyes lock onto yours briefly, and you think you see a flicker of something—appreciation, or maybe curiosity—cross his face. Whatever it is, it’s gone in an instant, and he turns away to survey the rest of the area, as if already thinking about the next challenge.

Misato nudges her head toward you and Riko, as if to say, "You two okay?" She still looks pumped, adrenaline brightening her eyes, and you can't help but admire her combat finesse.

"We are now," you reply, looking over at Riko. You feel a taut tug on the soul-bond you share with her. The anxiety roiling within her is palpable, and you can tell that she's nearly at the end of her emotional rope.

"I need to sit," Riko murmurs, her knees looking like they're about to give.

With a final, intentional transfer of supportive energy, you slowly release the bond. Riko exhales deeply, her body relaxing incrementally as though she's been holding her breath for ages.

"What was that?" she asks, her eyes wide, as she gingerly rubs the spot where you touched her.

"A bit of new trick I'm still figuring out," you answer cautiously.

The immediate threat is gone, dissipated by a display of raw power and expertise, but the residue of danger still hangs in the air. For a fleeting moment, a sigh of relief seems to ripple through the group. Gojo and Misato exchange a quick glance, an unspoken understanding passing between them. You begin to feel that maybe, just maybe, the worst is over.

But just as quickly, a ripple of dread passes through the air, and Gojo's eyes narrow, his senses alert. Misato pulls out her phone; a text flashes across the screen. "Kuroi's been kidnapped. We need to go to Okinawa, ASAP."

Just then, another figure emerges into the courtyard, almost as if summoned by the urgency of the situation. It's Geto, his face set in a grim line but with a touch of relief as he takes in the scene—no casualties, at least for now.

"Looks like I missed all the fun," Geto remarks, his eyes scanning over the fallen clones and the remnants of your elemental shield.

"We could use another set of hands," Gojo replies, motioning toward the looming threat ahead. "We're heading to Okinawa. You in?"

"Wouldn't miss it," Geto says, a ferocious kind of glee lighting up his eyes.

☆

The roar of the plane's engines cuts through the thick tension in the air as you ascend into the sky, en route to Okinawa. The cabin is alive with a buzzing energy, each person lost in their own world—some double-checking weapons, others silently chanting incantations, each locked in their own bubble of concentration. Yet, amid the individual preparations, a collective understanding looms: this mission is different. Dangerous. Unpredictable.

Across from you, Geto sits with a calm demeanor, his fingers steepled together as he analyzes a page of symbols. When he senses your gaze, he looks up, meeting your eyes. "I heard you unlocked a new power," he says, the corners of his mouth tilting into a wry grin. "That must've been quite the adrenaline rush."

Your eyes widen a bit, surprised that word has already gotten around. Before you can answer, your gaze shifts past him to where Gojo is seated. He's intently staring at the both of you. Caught, Gojo reacts with an exaggerated wave, a grin plastered across his face, before he abruptly pretends to engage in something very important on his phone. Classic Gojo—always the observer, always the jester.

Turning your attention back to Geto, you feel a swell of vulnerability. "Honestly, it's both exhilarating and terrifying. The power feels like...like it could either save everyone or destroy everything, and I'm not sure which."

Geto's eyes soften, perhaps understanding your fear better than most. "Power is a double-edged sword," he begins, pausing as if searching for the right words. "But remember this—power itself is neither good nor evil. It's a tool, like a knife or a pen. It's all about the hand that wields it. You can cut bread or you can cut flesh. Write love poems or slander. The choice is yours."

You soak in his words, finding a strange sense of comfort in them. Maybe you're still figuring this new power out, but Geto's right—it's not the power that should scare you, it's what you could potentially do with it.

As the plane starts its descent, Geto leans back in his seat, seeming to contemplate his own advice just as deeply as you are. "When we land, things are going to get hectic. Keep your wits about you. And remember, you're not alone. You have a team that trusts you, that believes in your strength—even the hidden strength you've yet to discover."

And with that final piece of counsel, the plane's wheels touch the tarmac, jolting everyone from their respective reveries. The mission is about to begin, and armed with Geto's words and your newfound abilities, you feel just a little more prepared for whatever challenges lie ahead.

☆

Upon landing in Okinawa, the team wasted no time. Your boots hit the ground, and you're off—storming into the Time Vessel Association's hideout like a well-oiled machine.

The air is thick with tension as the black unmarked van pulls up to the dilapidated warehouse, the secret stronghold of the Time Vessel Association. Before the engine even has time to cool, you, Gojo, Geto, and Riko tumble out, kitted in your combat gear. Satoru takes a moment to look everyone in the eye.

"Remember, we're in and out. Our priority is Kuroi. Let's not waste time on theatrics," he advises, his gaze lingering a moment longer on Geto before turning away.

With a flick of his wrist, Gojo’s Limitless technique scans the area, giving you the all-clear. Like phantoms, you slip through the warehouse's back door, narrowly avoiding a cluster of curse-infused traps laid out to ensnare intruders. Inside, the place smells of mildew and rust; low-level cursed spirits float around, filling the space with an eerie sense of dread.

Suddenly, Geto murmurs a string of incantations under his breath, summoning an array of curses. The shadowy figures screech, darting forward and ripping apart any cursed spirits in their path. As you move further in, Riko lights up her palm with a burst of energy that illuminates the dark hallways.

"We're getting close," she whispers, her voice tinged with both hope and urgency.

You arrive at a split in the path. Gojo gives a nod to Geto, who takes Riko down one corridor, while you and Gojo go down the other. Your heart pounds in your chest as you think of Kuroi. Questions cloud your mind. Is she okay? Will you make it in time?

Just ahead, you hear muffled voices, curses, and laughter. Gojo signals you to stop, his eyes narrowing as he senses the cursed energies amassed in the next room. He leans close, whispering, "On my mark, we go full force. Ready?"

With a deep breath, you nod, adrenaline surging through you.

Gojo kicks the door off its hinges. Time seems to freeze for a moment as everyone inside the room locks eyes with you both. Then, like an explosion, both sides collide. Gojo’s Limitless technique warps the space, making it difficult for enemies to even stand. Your newfound powers flare up, protective shields sprouting up to block incoming attacks, and tendrils of healing energy spiraling out to mend wounds.

Through a haze of flashing steel, crackling energy, and incantations, you spot her—Kuroi, tied to a chair, eyes wide but full of fight. No sooner does your gaze meet than Satoru flicks his wrist, and a window of warped space appears around her, isolating her from the ensuing battle.

Minutes feel like hours, but finally, the last enemy falls, and the room goes silent except for the sounds of heavy breathing and footsteps. You rush to Kuroi, quickly untying her bonds. She stands, shaky but unbroken, a small triumphant smile cutting through the room's tension.

"Nice of you to drop in," she quips, her voice tinged with relief and sarcastic humor.

Gojo looks at you both and grins. "Mission's not over yet, but good work, team."

You want to smile, but every part of you screams fatigue. Your legs feel like they're made of lead, and as you take another step, your knees wobble. Just before you can hit the ground, a strong arm catches you. It's Geto, his eyes showing a hint of concern.

"You can rest soon," he assures you, helping you regain your balance. "Just hold on a little longer."

The encouragement is just enough. You nod, muster up your remaining strength, and continue to walk toward the van waiting for your extraction. Every step feels like a mile, but you make it, settling into your seat. The engine roars to life, and the van pulls away, heading toward the airstrip where your plane is waiting.

The moment you settle into the van, something clicks—like your body's internal settings flip from 'Operational' to 'Do Not Disturb.' You don't even have the energy to get your shoes off before your head droops and your eyes close, plunging you into a deep, restorative sleep. Your body's earned it, after all. It's like your exhaustion has its own gravitational pull, drawing you into an immediate, dreamless slumber.

The van's engine hums a lullaby, and the muffled voices of your teammates fade into the background, overtaken by the all-encompassing need for rest.

Geto glances in your direction, studying your peaceful form curled up in the seat. He then meets Gojo’s eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. Gojo reaches up, pulling off his signature sunglasses and stowing them away. It's as if they've come to a mutual, unspoken agreement: everyone needs this break.

The inside of the van dims as the atmosphere shifts. The entire team, even those usually brimming with restless energy, takes the cue to relax. Seats recline, conversations lower to whispers, and some, like you, surrender to much-needed sleep.

For now, the world's incessant demands are put on hold. It's a brief hiatus, a momentary pause on reality, and every single person in that van knows to savor it.

dont clown me too much y'all Im bad at writing fighting scenes 💀💀😭

🇾‌/🇳‌'🇸‌ 🇵‌🇴‌🇼‌🇪‌🇷‌🇸‌/🇦‌🇧‌🇮‌🇱‌🇮‌🇹‌🇮‌🇪‌🇸‌ 🇦‌🇳‌🇩‌ 🇹‌🇭‌🇪‌🇮‌🇷‌ 🇩‌🇷‌🇦‌🇼‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌🇸‌:

"Elemental Mastery: Creation's Forge"**

Can manipulate elements to form shields, weapons, or even heal by drawing energy from her eyes; physical touch is required for healing... Drawbacks: Using this ability for an extended period drains her energy...

2. "Elemental Mastery: Soul Link"**

Sub-technique of 'Crteation's Forge' ~ Healing through this method temporarily soul-binds her to the individual, which might transfer some of their fatigue or pain to her... Drawbacks: Given that she can heal others too, she forms a temporarily soul-bond, making it a double-edged sword because she might absorb some of their pain or fatigue, making the act of healing more complex...

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