#at least he used anesthesia this time- he usually doesn’t

[puppy-the-mask]

Fell and Ave things- Tw; Dark Humor, body horror, implied organ removal/human experimentation. Making light of a fucked up dynamic

Fell: good morni- why are you bleeding? I haven’t even done anything yet

Ave: hm? Oh yeah that. It’s a human thing, we bleed sometimes

Fell: well stop it

Ave: I can’t- it’s against my will. my body does it on its own like every month or so.

Fell: gross, why?

Ave: I dunno, you’re the one with the human anatomy book. You tell me.

~~~~~

Fell: It says here that it’ll stop when you’re 50

Ave: dang

Fell: …how old are you?

Ave: I dunno, how long has it been since you kidnapped me?

Fell: a couple months

Ave: oh, then I’m 16 now. Happy birthday to me

Fell: hmmmm… happy birthday indeed

Ave: 6-6’’’

~~~~~~~

Ave: … what did you do this time

Fell: birthday present

Ave: I’ve woken up strapped to the table, theres nothing you could’ve done while I was out that I would ever consider a present. Did you poke around my organs again?

Fell- pushing a biohazard bin behind him: technically no…

Ave: what the actual fuck is wrong with you

Fell: I’m the only one that gets to make you bleed @_@🔪

[hyperfixat]

day 14 of ai less whumptober: No Anesthesia

supporting these posts helps encourage my writing and creating, thanks!

(@ailesswhumptober)

The sound of one of your joints popping and the breaking of a bone are terribly similar.  Too similar, in fact.  The brothers have broken many bones in their infinite time. 

The first snap, crackle, pop of your joints had made everyone in the room freeze.  Leviathan, in the middle of talking about some new limited Ruri-chan figure, stopped.  All seven pairs of eyes stare at you in horror.

 Did the human die?  Are they broken?  Fragile thing, what would Lord Diavolo say?  

You freeze as well, hands intertwined and held above your head.

Lucifer seems to have gotten even paler than his usual pale-ness.  Mammon’s gaze catches yours and is filled with absolute horror, and Asmo.  Asmodeus looks on the verge of illness, eyes wide and face sickly gray.

“Ohmygod,” Levi breathes out in absolute shock.

“What’s wrong?” You’re a little nervous at their odd behavior, and as to what happened to make their moods flip so suddenly.

“Are you okay?”  Satan is on his feet, walking over to you, attempting to inspect you for any injuries.  Mammon flies to his feet as well.

“Hey, hey hands to yourself!  The Great Mammon can do that.”  He pushes Satan aside without any real force.  Together their hands and eyes cover you, like a TSA pat down.

“Does anything hurt?”  Lucifer asks while you’re nearly being groped.

“No?”  Confusion fills your voice.

A worried whimper comes out of Beel and he turns to Belphie, “so bad it’s numb.”  You think you hear him say.

“Nothing seems broken,” Satan says, he’s squatting down to check your legs and feet.  He lifts himself to standing.  His eyes are somber as he gently takes hold of your shoulders.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mammon shifts on his feet behind you, hand brushing over your shoulder blades, where you popped.

“Yeah?  I was just stretching…”

Asmo inches over to you, crawling on the floor slowly like you’re a landmine that could detonate at any second.

“You cracked.”  It’s an accusation.  Lucifer near glowers at you.

“It happens.”  You shrug.

“No it doesn’t,” Lucifer glares this time.

“Maybe not to you, but it’s normal,” you side eye him.  

A hand on the hem of your pants.  Asmo looks up at you, horror still plastered on his face.

Dramatic.

You pat his head and some color returns to his face.

“What happened then?”  Belphegor challenges you.

“I cracked my back.”

“How?”  Mammon’s jaw drops.  “That’s horrible.”

“It feels good.”  You defend.  “You guys can’t crack things?”

“No!”  Asmo cries out.  “That sounded horrendous.”

“Oh.”

It’s confusing, demons and angels don’t make sounds like that.  No one hasn’t let themself grow used to the noise, they’ll never let themselves.  Because the haunting what if? will never leave.

Eyes always fly to you the second one of your bones shift; it’s sweet they care, but they’re worried over nothing!  You’ve never broken a bone, ever.

You jinxed yourself.

Today you broke a bone.  Well, you’re pretty sure you’ve at least done something you shouldn’t have to your bone.  The splintered edge of the bone sticks out gruesomely from your forearm.  Yeah, that’s not normal.

Blood drips onto the bathroom floor and you don’t know why you aren’t crying right now.  The demon had handled you too roughly.  Shoved you out of the way too hard and you hit the air dryer bolted into the wall then this happened.

They had looked at you with a mixture of shock and fear as the sickening crunch of your arm registered, and the coppery scent of blood began filling the air.  Panic took over the stranger and they ran out of the bathroom, leaving you to sit on the floor and stare in shock at your horrible looking arm.

Your stomach churns and you look towards the ceiling and blink to try and clear your mind.

The demon fled the second his actions dawned upon them, fleeing the scene of the crime.  Smart fella.

The scent of blood permeates the air and you know you won’t be alone for long.  A hungry demon is bound to find you the way you are just bleeding.

And just as the thought hits you, the bathroom door flies open and Asmo is rushing towards you.  Concern and panic lace his features as he places a gentle hand on your injured arm.  You wince.

“Sorry, dear, but I need to get this tied off.”  His voice is sweet and your head rolls to the side as you relax, because your Asmo is here.  Things’ll be alright now.  Mammon stands anxiously behind him, avoiding looking at your wound.  

The bathroom door has swung closed again and you relish in the privacy of having you Asmo and Mammon take care of you.

“Oh, who did this, MC?” Asmo keeps the lilt in his voice, although it is strained.  “Hmm?  Who would hurt you?”  Golden eyes attempting to meet yours.

You crane your head further back to avoid the lure of Asmodeus’ eyes, “it was an accident.” 

There’s a tug at the junction of your elbow. 

He makes a displeased hum, “Mammon, fetch Satan for me, he’ll know how to fix this better than me.  Oh, Barbatos too if you happen across him.”

Mammon gives your uninjured arm a pat and follows orders.

“Alright sweetheart,” Asmo kisses your cheek, “this might hurt a bit.  I’m gonna have a little bit of help to fix your arm up.  You’re in good hands, doll.”

You hear ripping fabric then have to hold back a scream as Asmo begins to wrap the exposed gore.

“I know,” he sighs sympathetically.  “I know.”  He keeps it tight on your arm and you take some deep breaths.

The door swings back open and Satan and Mammon come in, Barbatos in tow.  Satan’s face twists into a grimace as the scent registers.  The two that Mammon fetched kneel at your sides adjacent to Asmo, Barbatos tears his white gloves off and takes hold of your upper arm, applying firm pressure.

“Fuck,” Satan hisses out, fidiling with his pockets.  He pulls out something silver and metallic and you wince and turn away.  

When you do so you bump your face into Mammon’s chest, where he’d taken to holding you steady.

You do your best to keep quiet when you feel them begin to work on your arm, but you can’t help a pained, breathless moan.

“Sorry, your pain cannot be helped,” Barbatos puts his bare hand on your knee and attempts to give it a comforting squeeze.  It doesn’t do much, but you're grateful.

You feel sharpness cutting away at flesh and muscle.  Your eyes bulge and you grip Mammon’s forearm with all the strength you can muster.

Fuck, it hurts so bad, it’s all you can do not to scream or passout.

“Shh,” Asmo soothes, you peek an eye open and glare at him.

“I can’t,” you stutter out.

“Yes you can, I’m almost done.” Satan says, voice plain.

You feel Barbatos stand and walk to the dryer you were shoved into.  Peeking out the corner of your eye you see him crouch and investigate.  His bloodied white glove runs through the half dried viscera painting the floor.  You’re torn away from watching him when a new pain rocks through your nerves. 

A sharp crunch resonates through your body as Asmodeus and Satan shove your bone back into place.  You let out a hoarse squeal and there’s a fresh round of hushing from Asmo and Mammon.  Your breaths come in wheezing bursts and Barbatos comes to kneel a bit in front of you.

“I trust these  three with fixing you up for now.  I must report this to the Young Master.”  Barbatos gives a sympathetic smile and stands to leave.  “I will tend to you at a later point, MC.”

A sharp, pointed pain in, and a sharp pain out.  Steeling your nerves you peek at your newly shoved back inside arm to see Asmo sewing your flesh shut as Satan holds it closed.

It takes an excruciatingly long three minutes for them to finish and tie off the stitches.

“Now, darling,” Asmo’s stained hand reaches to cup your jaw, “when we get home, we’ll talk about finding whoever did this to you.”

“Don’t be too harsh now, Asmodeus.”  Satan chides, holding your injured arm soothingly.  “They’re sure to be in a lot of pain right now.  Save that conversation for when they’re feeling better, okay?”  When he finishes the sentence, he nuzzles into the side of your head affectionately.  

“Let’s get you home now,” Asmo says, blatantly ignoring his older brother.

As Mammon helps you to your feet he speaks, “we should probably stop by the student council office and let Lucifer know that they’ll be missing from classes.  And,” Mammon turns his attention to you.  “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be with you the whole time you’re healin’ up!”

[aleksa-sims]

RL Story

CW: Pain... when it sucks, it really sucks hard. (my life)

Today N. came home. After 3 months abroad, he was back with me/us. However, N. was a little disappointed. Our Baby didn’t feel comfortable with him. He didn’t see him for 3 months. He was a stranger to our son. But later in the evening, when we were in bed together, our little one seemed to slowly understand, that Nico belongs to us. He didn’t cry anymore when N. tried to hug or hold him. He even seemed to enjoy it a bit. ❤️

Nico: I missed you both sm. I was hoping he’d remember me.😟

Me: You have to give him some time. He was only one day old when you left. And look at him, he likes you.

Nico: He’s quiet now because you’re holding him.

Me: But something about you seems to make him curious? He’s already tired. I can tell by his eyes. Still he struggles to stay awake. He doesn’t want to fall asleep. He looks at you all the time, N.

Nico: And he won’t let go of my hand. He pulls really hard like.. he’s fighting with me. 😄 He wants me out of here, huh?

Me: Let's put him between us. 🥰

Nico: Why is he sleeping here with you in our bed?

Me: He got used to it. He screamed & cried a lot. It was easier for me to have him next to me, to calm him down or feed him.

Nico: Yea, I know. You told me. But now that he’s fine, he should learn to sleep in his own bed, babe.

Me: He’s only 3 months old!! And I still have to feed our son every 3 hours.

Nico: I’ll get up for you. I go to his bed and give him the bottle.

Me: Is he bothering you?

Nico: What about fucking? I mean, he doesn’t bother me. He’s just a Baby. He doesn’t get it anyway. But I know, you! I doubt you’ll sleep with me, as long as our Baby is lying next to us in the same bed.

Me: Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like you?🤨 ...No, I’m just kidding. Um, well! I-... Idk? It's gonna work out somehow. But tbh... here, at my parent's, it's-.... Agh, I’m afraid someone might catch us or something. Yk? I can’t even close my door! Let’s stay in the house tomorrow night. There we have at least a little more privacy.

Nico: You had a fight with your parents? We used to have sex in your room, so why not now?

Me: It was a bit tense between me and my Mom. I just don’t want to hear anymore that I’m a bad mom.😞

Nico: Did she say that to you?😠

Me: She didn't really say it, buttt I always feel like I’m doing something wrong. She said I didn’t care about Lucas. This hurt me a lot. Anyway.

Nico: I gotta get you out of here.

The next morning I woke up with a severe headache. The pain was unbearable. I knew that pain. I’ve had this kind of headache in the past. That’s why I became hooked. I had to take very strong painkillers, opiates, because nothing else helped me. And now it was back. Why the hell? I really didn’t have the strength and nerves to deal with this kind of pain, NOW. 😭😫

I got up and went to the bathroom. This pain almost drove me crazy. I was afraid I’d be as bad as I was then, in the past.

I sat down on the floor in the shower. I tried to get through it somehow. Usually, the headache stopped after an hour.

And yes, I got a bit better. That moment Nico came to me. He just woke up.

Me: Did you leave Lucas alone?

Nico: No, ofc not! I took him down to your Mom. I thought you were there too. What-

Me: Nothing! I- I’m fine. I had a bad headache.

Nico: That’s why you’re sitting.... naked in the shower? 🤨🙂

Me: Yes, exactly. When I have this severe headache, sometimes I do things that don’t make sense. Yk? Out of desperation to survive the pain somehow.

Nico: And has it helped?

Me: No, nothing helps, but I still try, because, as I said, I’m desperate and can hardly stand it.

Nico: I love you, babe. So much. 😟

Me: Love you too. 😳

A day later I had to go to the hospital. I passed out, because I couldn’t stand the pain anymore. The docs suspected that it had something to do with the c-section anesthesia? However, it was nothing serious but the pain... didn’t go away. Just as then. 😫

Previous/Next

[god-of-fandoms]

Jay is so, so tired.

He’s only vaguely aware of his surroundings, but he can hear a lot of raised voices. It’s different from the usual jeers and laughter of the pirates, their mocking cries cutting into him almost as effectively as their blades. No, this feels more… more urgent, he supposes. People are calling out orders, their voices commanding and loud. Blearily, he wonders what they’re talking about.

“...Vitals are weak but stable for now…”

“...Needs an IV, stat!”

“...Several open wounds, possible concussion…”

He slowly realizes that he’s moving. Well, not him. He’s lying on something (a bed maybe? No, it’s hard and painful) that is seemingly being wheeled along at a very quick pace. A strange mask is covering his nose and mouth, air gently pushing its way into his lungs. He knows what this is, knows he’s used one before, but his mind is so foggy he can’t recall where or when or why. 

“... Going into shock?”

“...n’t tell, conscious but unresponsive…”

“...Fuck.”

Well, that at least he could understand.

Jay tries to move his head, but a bright flash of pain stops him. Everything fucking hurts, but that fact is barely news at this point. After all, since the beginning of his imprisonment on the Misfortune’s Keep there hasn’t been a day that’s gone by without gaining a new injury or two. (Or ten, when Nadakhan’s really mad.)

He does his best to mentally shake off the fog, trying to figure out what’s going on. He… doesn’t think he’s on the Misfortune anymore - if he was still there, there would be absolutely no lying down like he’s doing now. He’d probably be back in the Scrap N’ Tap arena or cleaning the deck or (FSM forbid) in Nadakhan’s quarters. The djinn is scarily determined to deny him any rest until he physically can’t function without it - no doubt part of his plan to make Jay give up and wish.

“... Bones healed incorrectly…”

“... Emergency surgery…”

“...ay! Jay! Is he ok?”

Now that he’s thinking, the events before his unconsciousness begin to trickle in. He remembers, with a minute jolt, the rescue attempt. How his heart had filled with relief and joy knowing that his friends did care, that they wanted to rescue him despite his lies. How that hope had faded into despair when they were recaptured, and how Cole had nearly been forced to walk the plank.

He remembers the fight, remembers the pure euphoria of his powers singing once again, without the vengestone cuffs made to suppress them. He remembers, with a wince, his friends’ decision to use their wishes to give the fight an edge, and how Nadakhan had twisted their commands into something unhelpful or dangerous. 

He remembers losing Kai and Cole to the djinnblade, the fear and sorrow as Lloyd used his last wish to help him get away. To escape, alongside…

NYA!

Jay thrashes suddenly, a reaction that seems to surprise the strangers wheeling him around. Their voices rise as they stop and try to restrain him, but that only increases his determination to move. 

“... wrong with him?”

“... hold him down…”

“...ould we use anesthesia?”

He feels hands pinning his arms and legs to the metal slab, and his panic only grows. No, he has to leave, has to find Nya, has to know that she’s ok-

He’s sobbing, he thinks, if the sudden dampness on his face has anything to say. He hears gasps as he thrashes harder, because he has to tell them, make them understand-

He manages to free one of his arms and rips off the mask. He has to tell them so they’ll let him go.

“Nya,” He cries out, his voice giving way at the end from dehydration and exhaustion. “H-have to find- find Nya, please, please…”

The voices are only getting louder as he pleads with them. His hand is once again pinned down and he screams, because he doesn’t have time for this when Nya is gone.

“Please! I need her, w-where is she, where where where-”

No one is listening to him, no one is letting him leave, and he’s quickly losing his strength. An IV slips under his skin, and whatever is in it makes his vision double. They’re drugging him, he realizes, so that he’ll calm down. 

The thought just makes him panic more.

“Nya!” He sobs, as he stops fighting the many hands holding him down because he’s so tired, so very tired, “Nya, where are you? Please...”

“Jay!”

The familiar voice calms him down before he even realizes. He sucks in a breath, tears running down his face long forgotten as he stops and listens, hoping, praying he wasn’t imagining it-

And then a figure is shoving past the strangers and leaning over his resting space. Her eyes are the first thing he recognizes, familiarity flooding him despite his exhaustion. He knows these eyes - the amount of times he’s caught himself staring into them out of the blue is honestly embarrassing. The rest of her details come pouring in immediately after, trickling into his mind like the tide. A mole just above her top lip. The small scar across her cheek from a throwing star. Cropped black hair, falling into her face amid her disarray. He knows these details. He knows this face. He knows this person.

Nya stares down at him, her eyes shining with tears. “Jay, I’m here. I’m here, you have to calm down for me, please.”

And Jay calms down. Maybe it’s the drugs entering his system, or the pain and fear and exhaustion that have been following him for months, or maybe it’s just because it’s Nya telling him to, but it’s suddenly so easy to stop thrashing and crying. He has no reason to do so anymore, after all - Nya is here and she’s alright.

“... doctors are here to help, I promise. They won’t hurt you but you need to be sedated so they can administer emergency surgery.”

Her eyes are so pretty, Jay notices drowsily. Looking into them gives him the same feeling as staring into the ocean from the Destiny’s Bounty. Like her element, Nya’s eyes have been a deep cyan ever since she mastered her abilities. His eyes are blue as well, but they’re nothing special. Nya’s are blue like the rolling waves, blue like the sea during a storm. 

“...gave me permission to be with you during surgery, you don’t have to worry about me leaving- Jay? Are you ok?”

He’s crying again, not like earlier. Before Nya arrived, he had been sobbing violently. Now, though, tears just trickle down his face as he looks into her eyes.

“Missed you,” He chokes out, and Nya’s face collapses. Her expression is a mix of sorrow and concern and, to his horror, guilt.

“I’m so sorry,” and FSM she sounds close to tears. “Jay, I’m so sorry I let this happen. We should have gone after you, but I convinced the others you’d be fine, and it’s all my fault-”

Shit, shit, shit, how could she say that? He’s the one who should be sorry, he should be begging for her forgiveness. She’s so wrong, so very very wrong, and he has to let her know.

Despite the drowsiness now pushing him down, he shakily reaches out. Nya takes his hand, squeezing gently.

“Don’t blame you,” He murmurs, “Never did, please don’t cry…”

She sniffs gently before wiping her eyes with her free hand. “I’ll try not to,” she whispers. And it’s true, she doesn’t seem like she’s about to break down anymore, but she still looks sad and guilty and Jay would rather die right now than let that look be the last thing he sees before going under. The overhead lamps of the building they’re in (a hospital, he’s now fairly sure) form a crown of light around her head. Nya might be obviously exhausted, dirty, and injured from their fight on the Misfortune, but with the way her eyes shine and the halo surrounding her, she looks breathtaking. Almost like…

“Y’r like an angel,” he mumbles, stifling a yawn. He doesn’t know why out of everything he chose to tell her that - after all, she’s made it clear by now that she doesn’t feel the same way as him anymore. But it’s true, and he’d honestly say anything to make her less sad at this point.

Through his blurring vision, he’s able to make out the slightly bemused expression Nya gets. 

“...An angel? Why?”

“Saved me,” Jay slurs. He’s getting more and more exhausted by the minute but he shakes it off as much as he can to squeeze her hand and offer her a grin. (FSM, he hopes she’s not too put out by those missing teeth.) “Came back and rescued me. Y’r my guardian angel now.”

Nya sucks in a breath. “All of us wanted to save you, Jay. I’m not special.”

“Y’ are, though. N’dakhan wanted you, but y’ still came. Brave.”

His eyes are closing again, so he can’t see Nya’s expression anymore, but she squeezes his hand back. 

“‘M sorry for ev’rything. Y’re an amazing ninja. Fans… fans are stupid. I was stupid. S’rry.”

A wet chuckle from above him.

“Thank you, Jay. That… that means a lot.”

He wants to say more, but Nya’s talking again before he can.

“I think this conversation should wait until you’re not about to fall asleep,” she says, and Jay’s relieved to hear the tone of voice that she only gets when smiling, “but for now, you need to relax. You’re about to go into surgery.”

Now that she mentions it, the stretcher (it’s a stretcher, he remembers now) had stopped moving a little while ago. The strangers - no, doctors - are bustling around the room, preparing for an operation. The thought makes him a little queasy (he’s never liked surgery, and knowing how fucked up his body is right now this one’s definitely gonna be invasive) but he doesn’t feel as scared as he would usually. Not with Nya here.

His eyes are glued shut, and fighting off the sweet tug of sleep is no longer working. He whines and holds Nya’s hand tighter. 

“Don’t leave…” he whispers.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sparky.”

He sighs contentedly at that, releasing his death grip on her hand. A doctor comes up to the stretcher and talks lowly to Nya. He’s so tired that he can barely make out what’s being said, but the meaning is clear.

It’s time.

Nya leans down to put their heads close together. Wisps of her hair gently tickle at his face.

“Sleep, Jay. I’ll be here with you until you wake up again.”

It’s with the sedative running through his veins and the soft whisper in his ear that Jay finally succumbs to his exhaustion. 

He slips into unconsciousness thinking only of ocean blue eyes.

---

Yall this is unedited and not beta read but I'm so tired.

I'll probably try and fix any mistakes tomorrow but for now I have to sleep - gotta wake up early for even more exams :(

Nevertheless I hope you like this :D tell me what you guys think, I'd love to hear your thoughts

Have a lovely day!

-Lee :)

[traveler-at-heart]

Hi 🥰

🐾

Thank you for the prompt!

High on love

“Landing in 5 minutes” Clint announced as he checked over the screen.

“Thank God” Natasha muttered. It’s been almost six weeks since the mission started and she’s eager to see you.

“Are you going to see your girl?”

“She’s not my girl”

“Yet”

As soon as they landed, Fury walked up to them.

“Let’s debrief now”

“Oh, Fury… I actually have to get to the medbay” Natasha began to limp. Clint hid a smile as she pretended to be in pain.

“You once stayed at a meeting while stitching yourself up” the man reminded her, unimpressed.

“What can I say, not all of us are super soldiers. We’re getting old, right, Barton?”

She doesn’t wait for an answer and limped away, as Clint and Fury watched her committ to the lie.

“She’s going to see that chick doctor, isn’t she”

“Yeap”

—

“Agent Romanoff, how can we help you?” A nurse greeted as soon as Natasha walked in. She’s no longer pretending to limp but she figures there might be another way to get your attention.

“Just reporting after a mission for a general check up. Doctor Y/L/N is usually in charge”

“Oh, she’s getting prepped for surgery”

Well, damn. As head of the department, you were usually in and out of the OR at any given hour.

“I’ll come back when she’s out then”

“Yeah, it’s gonna take a while for her to wake up from the anesthesia”

“Wait, what? I thought you meant she was performing surgery, not being the one…”

“Well, she was feeling sick this morning and after running some tests we found her appendix was the issue” Natasha stared at the woman and she could immediately telll the spy was worried. “It’s a very simple procedure. They’re starting in ten minutes. Would you like to see her?”

Natasha nodded and walked behind the nurse to one of the patient rooms.

“She’s heavily sedated so… uh… yeah” the nurse warned before knocking.

“Come iiiiin. Oh my God, is this a dream? Natty!! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you” you smiled and raised a hand, hoping Natasha would take it.

She blushed at the nickname. So far, all she had heard you call her was Agent Romanoff and a very stern “Natasha” when she insisted on going on a mission with broken ribs.

“How was your mission, darling?” you sighed and she chuckled. “My God, you have the loveliest smile”

“The mission went great. I came here to see you but it seems like you’ll need me to take care of you for a change”

“I hate needles, Natty. And I’ll have a scar. Bye bye bikinis” you pouted, lifting your hospital gown to show your still intact skin.

“Let’s not…” she pulled it down just in time for the nurse to open the door and take you to the OR.

“Natty, walk with me” you pleaded as you were wheeled away. “If I die…”

“You’re not gonna die, Y/N”

“But if I do… I just want you to know that I think you’re beautiful and smell really, really nice and anyone would be lucky to have you. And do you like Italian food because I can make an amazing lasagna and then we’ll make out in my couch”

“Oh my God” the intern walking next to your bed was desperately trying to make it stop. He knew how much you’d regret saying all of that to Natasha, in front of several staff members.

“Please rush Doctor Y/L/N to OR 1. This is as far as you can go, Agent”

“She’s gonna be ok, right?”

“I’ll let you know as soon as she’s out of surgery, if you’d like”

“Yes, please”

He nodded once again, following your bed as you waved and screamed.

“Byeee, Natty”

—

Natasha stared at her empty cup of coffee, still wondering what she should do with the things you’d said.

Considering how many drugs were on your system, it could all be meaningless.

Should she act on it?

“Agent Romanoff” the intern stood before her, trying to appear casual. The truth was, most of the Medbay’s staff was scared of her. “She’s back in her room, we’re just waiting for her to wake up. It could take a while”

“But everything went ok? She’s gonna be fine?”

“Yes. She just needs bedrest for at least two weeks. Which I suspect she won’t like”

Natasha chuckled and followed him back to your room. You were sleeping peacefully, your vitals stable.

Still, Natasha disliked the sight of you in a hospital bed.

“You can tell nurse Richards to page me once she wakes up. A-assuming you’ll wait here for her…”

“I will, thank you”

He nodded once again and closed the door behind him. Natasha approached your side and placed a small strand of hair behind your ear.

Aside from some physical exams, she’d never been so close to you. Free to examine your face, she noticed a small scar right above your left eyebrow, a birth mark near your right cheek….   

She could stare at you forever, and she almost did, dragging a chair to sit next to your bed.

An hour and a half later, your eyes struggled to open.

“Mmm”

“Hey, I’m here, Y/N. You’re ok.” the redhead took your hand, her thumb drawing soothing circles.

“Nat?”

“Hi, detka. How are you feeling?”

“Like a bus ran me over several times. But it’s good to see you” you admitted with a smile. You weren’t as forward as before, probably because the anesthesia was wearing off.

“Right back at you” she smiled softly.

“I had the weirdest dream while I was all high” you chuckled. “That you were here and I practically flashed you in my hospital gown and then asked you out in the least romantic way possible…”

Natasha looked to the ceiling, trying to hide her blush.

“Natasha, that was a dream, right? RIGHT?”

“Uhmmm…”

“OH MY GOD”

“What’s wrong?” the intern walked in at that moment. “I told you to page me when she woke up” he scolded Natasha but one glare from the redhead and he was back to being scared. “Your heart rate is way up right now”

“Yeah, that’s nothing medical, trust me” you answered, mortified. The intern looked between the two of you and nodded.

“Right. I think we can discharge you tomorrow, Chief”

“Thanks, George”

He nodded and left you alone again, in the middle of a very awkward silence.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable”

“Go out with me” Natasha said as you spoke.

“What?” you smiled, and she squeezed your hand.

“Would you go on a date with me?” she said and you nodded.

“Lasagna at my place” you offered, trying to  raise yourself from the bed. “Ouch”

“For now, let’s stick to take out”

“Deal”

[shion-yu]

Day 14 - Bleeding Through the Bandage/Field Medicine/No Anesthesia

Rey can’t heal himself magically, but he knows how to use a needle and thread... Whumptober 2023! I’m using the @ailesswhumptober's prompt list. This story is about my OC Rey - here’s his profile if you’re so inclined: https://toyhou.se/23741197.rey. Oh, this one comes with art :P (this is the original! Just traced/modified by me.)

They were way out of their depth this time. Even for Felix, ten men to the two of them was a bit much. Rey had his own sword out and was mostly covering Felix, who handled the offensive side of things. It was their usual configuration when Rey actually had to fight; if it was three guys or less, usually Felix could handle it on his own. 

“To your right,” Rey said. Felix struck his hand out as he was told without looking and punched a man’s face in. 

They were a surprisingly adept pair. Rey wasn’t strong, but he was a quick thinker and had very good eyesight. He worked as a shield and blindspot monitor for Felix. Felix trusted him implicitly when it came to battle.

Rey swung his sword and parried another attacker, giving Felix the second he needed to knee him in the stomach and send him flying. That was the last of them. Rey sighed in relief, sheathing his sword and brushing his bloody hands on his pant legs. “How troublesome,” he said coolly. Felix turned to tell him he was a magnet for trouble, right before an arrow came flying down and pierced Rey’s side. 

Felix shouted in shock, grabbing Rey as he collapsed and looked up from where the arrow had come from above. It was a young child high in the trees above, unkempt and dark eyes burning with a hatred that didn’t match his young age. Child or not, he’d just attempted to kill Rey. Felix wasted no time grabbing the nearest rock and throwing it at the child with deadly aim. The child fell from the tree onto the ground a few meters away, groaning in pain. 

Felix was over the child in a second, sword drawn mercilessly. “Don’t move,” Felix growled.

The child moved anyways, pushing himself onto all fours and screaming at Felix with an unbridled fury. “You killed him! My father!” Tears streamed down his face.

“We didn’t kill him.” Rey’s voice came from behind. Apparently he’d woken up and had begun crawling in the direction of the other two. “None of them are dead. Don’t worry.”

The boy looked hesitant to believe Rey, but now that he was closer he could indeed see the shallow rise and fall of his father’s chest. Felix righted his blade to the correct angle and threatened the child not to move another inch. “I don’t care if you’re a child or not. Do you know who you just shot?”

“I’m fine, Felix,” Rey said. One glance at him told Felix that he was not, in fact, fine. He was deathly pale and covered in sweat. Blood ran from his side down his leg, leaving a trail of red behind him as he crawled closer. “He’s just a child. Don’t hurt him. Let’s just go.”

Felix sighed. He didn’t prefer killing either, especially when it came to children. But Rey’s pacifist attitude could also be infuriating. “Rey, he shot you. Shouldn’t we at least arrest him?”

“No. If he wants to kill me when he grows up, he can challenge us in a fair fight,” Rey said pointedly. “Look, he only had one arrow to begin with.” He coughed, groaning as it strained the wound in his side. “Come on. That’s an order.”

Felix rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to order me around,” he muttered. He gave the child a very angry glare. “You stay away and keep your nose out of trouble. A child like you doesn’t need to know what it feels like to kill a man at such a young age.” With that he went over to Rey and picked his prince up easily, stalking away. The child said nothing as they retreated.

Rey was panting, his face scrunched up. The child hadn’t managed to hit any vital organs but a flesh wound to the side was still immensely painful. “Dammit,” Rey groaned. “How far are we to the next town?”

“At least another day,” Felix said. “We’ll have to set up camp halfway. Can you make it?”

“Certainly,” Rey said. “Let’s get on with it.”

Felix mounted their horse, pulling Rey up in front of him so he could hold the prince as they rode. Usually Rey sat in back, but Felix was a bit worried he was going to fall off with his injury. Indeed, each time the horse bobbed up and down in its gallop Rey seemed to become harder to hold on to. Felix only brought them far enough to be safe from the bandits before tying up and setting up camp. He sat Rey against a tree to rest while he did so, handing him their overly used medical kit so he could begin bandaging himself up. Rey always complained Felix did a poor job at making them tight enough after all.

When everything was set up and he had water boiling over a fire, Felix checked on Rey again. It only took a moment to realize there was a problem. The bandages that Rey had managed to wrap around himself were already soaked with red blood. “It won’t stop,” Rey grimaced. “I’m going to have to sew it up.”

Felix looked alarmed, bending at the knees to crouch besides Rey. “Are you sure? We don’t have any anesthesia...”

“It’ll have to be,” Rey said. “The question is, do you do it or shall I?”

The idea of sewing Rey up with nothing to dull the pain made Felix want to throw up, but so did the idea of Rey doing it himself. “Which way will hurt less?”

Rey managed to chuckle darkly. “A needle going through skin will hurt either way... I’m not sure if there is a way that it hurts less,” he said. “I’ve been through worse before, though. Can you do it?”

“Do you think you can stomach doing it yourself?” Felix said hesitantly. Usually he was willing to do absolutely anything for Rey, but doing what would probably constitute as torturing him did not appeal to him at all. Plus, Rey was the one who always mended any of their torn clothes; Felix didn’t know how to sew anything but a few crude and uneven rows. Not that he could imagine Rey would be going for style here.

“I think so,” Rey said. “You’ll have to gag me first though.” Felix felt his stomach lurch at the idea but nodded. He followed Rey’s instructions - first they poured alcohol over the sewing needle and thread, and disinfected the area as much as they could. Felix realized he probably should have gagged Rey first. The burn of alcohol on open skin made Rey scream right away.

“I’m sorry,” Felix said. He would repeat it about a hundred more times during the procedure.

“Let’s just get this over with,” Rey panted, eyes streaming with automatic tears. He had Felix stuff a rag in his mouth and then began. It felt like it took forever, but in reality it only took Rey about two minutes to sew everything up. He had Felix dry the area repeatedly to avoid the surface becoming too slippery with blood. Unsurprisingly, he did a good job. Once he’d tied the knot off Felix took the cloth from his mouth. Rey looked like he was about to pass out; Felix probably did too.

“Good job, my prince,” Felix muttered. “I’ll bandage you up now. I’ll try to make it tight.”

Rey nodded shakily. Felix was about halfway through wrapping when Rey’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out cold. Felix directed him to fall forward against his chest so he could hold Rey up while finishing wrapping the bandages quickly. They were indeed sloppier than the job Rey would have done, but they were done and they were not immediately turning red which was a good sign.

Felix was nervous about moving Rey too much now that the stitches were in and so set up Rey’s sleeping bag right there under the tree. He made his own right next to it and lay Rey down properly, covering him with blankets and wiping what blood he could off of Rey’s hands with a wet cloth. It had been a disturbing sight, watching Rey stitch himself back together. But somehow he’d managed, and Felix was incredibly proud of him. Rey did have a certain mental fortitude that came out when he really needed it, something Felix was grateful for. He wasn’t sure if he would have been able to do this himself.

He brushed Rey’s sweaty bangs from his pale face and rubbed his thumb back and forth across Rey’s forehead. “You’re incredible,” he whispered fondly. “If you were this strong all the time, you wouldn’t even need me anymore.” For some reason the quiet atmosphere - the distant crackle of the fireplace, the nighttime critters, and Rey’s shallow breathing made Felix feel like he was in a trance. He leaned forward and kissed Rey’s forehead before he could stop himself. “Sleep well,” he said gently. “I’ll watch over you all night.”

[daringyounggrayson]

Drugged, Dick Grayson for the bingo!

Thanks for the prompt, I hope you like it!

side effects may include (AO3)

Dick’s relationship with painkillers is complicated—or at least, they have a long history.

He’s a vigilante and gets injured fairly frequently, and previous injuries have also caused recurrent issues. His knee and shoulder like to act up, and he has headaches every so often thanks to being hit in the head so many times. This means he’s no stranger to pain, and he’s also no stranger to painkillers, from the over-the-counter stuff to the big guns Alfred or whoever doles out when the shit hits the fan.

However, because of how often he can expect to be in pain, this also means he can’t take them every single time something aches. If he takes too much ibuprofen for a headache, he’ll start to get rebound headaches; if he takes anything too often, he might get used to its effects and require stronger dosages. Then, of course, there are the potential adverse effects associated with long-term painkiller use, like kidney damage.

In order to avoid all of that, he has to be smart about treatment and use other techniques whenever possible.

He trains regularly to stay in shape and prevent injury, and he keeps up with PT exercises to try to prevent things like knee and shoulder flair-ups. He can’t prevent everything, though, and not every pain episode is mild enough for him to just bear it. That’s when he pulls out his medication-free coping strategies, and luckily, he’s collected plenty of them over the years. He’s found that a cold compress and sleep can be helpful for his headaches, and his apartment is full of things like ice packs, heating pads, foam rollers, and handheld massagers for other types of aches and pains. He also makes ample use of distractions, and he always has things like breathing exercises to fall back on.

But, again, there are times when the shit hits the fan. Times when he can’t bear the pain and his techniques won’t cut it and the painkillers’ benefits outweigh their risks. Times when all of his senses are flooded by pain and he doesn’t understand what’s going on around him, just that it hurts and he desperately needs someone to make it stop. That’s when someone gives him something, and it becomes bearable.

Sometimes, they give him a lot of something. The pain is so bad it’s the only option, and despite the side effects, he’s grateful for the relief the painkillers bring. High doses also make him feel floaty and, according to those around him, a little loopy. Even when the dose isn’t that high, the drugs make him sleepy, which he usually doesn’t mind in the beginning, and they make him nauseous and dizzy, which he minds quite a bit.

“What did you give me?” Dick groans. He’s curled on his side, eyes squeezed shut in hopes that it will make the world stop spinning. He also feels incredibly nauseous; he’s already thrown up once, and his stomach is threatening to do it again.

“I didn’t give you anything,” Roy says, laughing through the sentence.

Dick breathes through his teeth as a particularly strong wave of nausea courses through him. “Then what did you let them give me?” He knows it’s probably just the combination of the painkillers and the anesthesia, but blaming Roy makes him feel better.

“They didn’t run it by me; kicked me out as soon as I dropped your ass on a gurney. And look, nausea sucks and everything, but you should be thanking me. Notice how you’re not screaming your head off anymore,” Roy says.

Dick opens his eyes and meets Roy’s gaze. He says, “I will vomit on your shoes.”

“That a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

“Uh-huh.” Roy gets an evil look in his eye and leans forward in his seat. “Maybe you’re just hungry. Want me to order you something?”

“Shut up. I’m serious about vomiting on you.” Roy laughs at him again, and Dick scowls as he pulls the blankets over his head. “When’s Donna coming back? I miss her. She’s nice to me.”

“She won’t be back for another hour.”

Dick groans. Donna had been here when he woke up from surgery, but he’d fallen asleep shortly after that, and when he woke up again, she was gone. Some kind of emergency that needed her attention, forcing her to leave him here with Roy.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I’ll be nice. I’m sorry you’re feeling sick. Want me to ask if they can give you some Zofran or something?”

“Yes please.”

Roy stands from his seat and claps Dick on the shoulder. “Be right back. Sit tight.”

Dick waits and breathes and tells himself that, like pain, dizziness and nausea are temporary.

[whumpinggrounds]

Proof of Life

CW: male whumpee, male whumper, hero whumper, sidekick whumpee, death, grief, guilt, depression, angst

He tells them he’s sick. August lies in bed and won’t get up and turns his face to the wall. He says his head hurts, his stomach hurts, and he really is dizzy every time he stands. He puts no particular effort into making any of this believable, but his monotone in itself is apparently concerning enough.

All the symptoms are more or less true, anyhow. It’s just grief and guilt, not a chest infection. Whoop-de-fuckin-do.

Valerie comes in to see him, apologizing that her magic hands can only heal injuries, not illness. August tells her its fine, in a dead, colorless voice that makes her back away. When she leaves, August knows she’s going to get Beck, to tell their leader that something is truly wrong with the youngest member of their team. August can’t bring himself to care, especially when all Beck does is come in to stare at him with a creased brow.

Donovan’s visit is, at least, exciting. He threatens August with expulsion from the team, saying that if he’s “sick” longer than three days, Don will convince Beck to drop him. August snorts. He doesn’t bother to reply. When Don takes a threatening step towards his bed, August just lies there, staring at him.

“What’s wrong with you?” Don demands, looking disgusted. “What’s actually wrong with you?”

August turns his face into the pillow, not wanting to face Donovan’s wrath. The words are muffled when they come, but he knows Don still hears them. “You killed an innocent person.”

“Innocent?”

Don clearly has more to say, but August cuts him off. “Yes, innocent. And…it’s my fault as well as yours.”

“You don’t have the balls to kill anyone.”

“You know what I mean.”

Don throws a couple more insults at his sidekick, but apparently, depressed August is no fun. When he doesn’t respond to Donovan’s jabs, the hero stalks out the door, no doubt still sneering at August’s weakness. August still doesn’t care. All of this feels very far away. Nothing reaches him through the thick, muffling, cold layer of unreality, not even the guilt and sorrow and helpless rage he can feel waiting on the other side of that wall. Lying in bed all day feeling sorry for himself isn’t helping either, but when August tries to move, his limbs feel like they weigh as much as buildings. He stares at the ceiling and feels numb.

After hours of this, night comes and August can’t sleep. He’s still staring at the ceiling, still tangled in sweaty sheets. He just wants to feel something, whether it’s anger or self-hatred or misery. This cotton cloud of disbelief is suffocating him. And it’s real. Under the denial, August knows that. This is real, and he needs to feel that.

He pictures the supervillain’s mask. Their teasing tone. The way they called him kid, sounding just like an older sibling, like Dahlia when she’s exasperated. The gentle way they asked him questions; the way they tried to get him to see…what? That what he was doing was pointless? That he was throwing his life into the service of a monster?

Yeah. Well. August must have a little monster in him, too.

Still feeling nothing, still numb as he’d be under anesthesia, August finds himself swinging open his closet door. There, in the back corner, next to rows of new shoes waiting to be used up, is a single worn-out pair. Usually, August throws them out as soon as he burns through the soles. If something significant happened while he was wearing them, he’ll save the laces. This pair, though, has nothing special about them. They’re the shoes he was wearing when he was kidnapped, but that’s not something he truly wants to remember.

The thing he wants is tucked under the sole. A phone number, scrawled in a big block numbers.

That almost breaks him. The numerals, written in thick, clear strokes, like there’s a possibility August might misunderstand, might think the seven is a one and dial the wrong number. They cared about him. They cared about August.

Now, maybe because of that, they’re dead.

August sits cross-legged on the floor of his closet, staring at the note. Shirts and jackets brush his forehead, but he doesn’t care. He stares, in the dim light from his window, at the creased piece of paper, and then he pulls out his phone. He’s not sure what he’ll get, not even sure what he wants. Maybe the villain has an answering machine. Maybe hearing their voice will make it real.

The phone rings in August’s hand, loud in the dead silence of the room. One ring. Two. Three.

And then someone picks up. “How did you get this number?”

Speechless, August stares at his phone for a long minute.

“Hey. Who are you, and how did you get this number?”

The voice is mean, almost a snarl. August swallows hard. “S-sorry. A…a friend of mine…gave it to me, it must be, um, wrong, or…or reassigned, or something, I’m…sorry.”

The shock of hearing a voice is wearing off, and the reality is setting in. The faint hope of somehow hearing the villain’s voice on the line – extinguished. This is some random stranger he’s woken in the middle of the night – a random angry stranger – and August moves to hang up, grief finally waking up within him.

Then the voice on the line stops him cold.

“Oh my god. Kid? Is that you?”

@whatwasmyprevioususername, @princess-poopsicle, @snowshower, @whumpywritings, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, and @junoswhumpdrawer

@whumptober, @whumptober-archive

[sundayswiththeilluminati]

Cryosthesia 77K

There are things colder than cold.

Type: Sidearm

Slot: Kinetic | Energy | Heavy

Element: Kinetic | Stasis | Strand

Perk: LN2 Burst - Swap firing mode after a final blow to enable a Charged Shot.

Trait: Liquid Cooling - Direct hits by a Charged Shot instantly freeze the target. Indirect hits freeze combatants and slow enemy Guardians.

Masterworked Trait: Cold Efficiency - Shattering a frozen target refills this weapon's magazine from reserves.

Ornaments: Deletion Protocol

Origin & Description: The name Cryosthesia, as my spellcheck keeps reminding me, is not a real word. "Cryo-" means "cold" and the "-sthesia" suffix means sensation or perception, as in "anesthesia" ("no sensation") or "synesthesia" ("same sensation"), so "cryosthesia" is "the feeling of being cold." This pistol certainly delivers that, since the 'K' in Cryosthesia's name doesn't mean "thousand", it means "Kelvin", as in "liquid nitrogen boils at 77 Kelvin and I'm about to make that your problem." A gun that shoots liquid nitrogen is weird, but not implausible; inert, plentiful, and subliming harmlessly into the atmosphere, liquid nitrogen is a common real-world cryogen found tanked up in big metal "LN2" dewars in nearly any scientific lab. Cryosthesia, on the other hand, is not liquid-nitrogen cold but cosmic-ice existential Stasis cold. Touching something that's 77 Kelvin (that's a balmy -196 degrees Celsius, by the way, or -321 degrees Fahrenheit in freedom units) can't be a great experience, but getting hit with a Stasis blast probably feels much, much colder, at least in your soul.

Liquid nitrogen also makes excellent ice cream, and Cryosthesia makes excellent popsicles out of annoying enemies. Like the Stasis subclass it specializes in crowd control and in action it's the weapon equivalent of yelling "hang on a minute!" Putting down one red-bar enemy charges up a Stasis blast you can fire to tell another nearby enemy to wait its goddamn turn. I like to use it against the standard Vex formation of 2-3 Goblins and their Minotaur babysitter: knock out a gobbo, freeze the Minotaur before it can use its melee to hammer me straight down into the ground like a tent peg, then take out the rest of the gobbos and ready something nastier to deal with the big guy as it thaws. Once you've completed the catalyst - it's the seasonal weapon of Season of the Splicer, so you'll get it from Banshee - you can switch to a more one-two punch style of using Cryosthesia to freeze a target and another method to shatter it, thus refilling Cryosthesia's magazine. It comes with the usual sidearm traits of quick fire rate and high but very short-range damage, so you could do a lot worse when you're swarmed.

Cryosthesia comes to us as a token of goodwill from the eliksni Misraaks, Kell of House Light, as part of negotiating the current uneasy-yet-still-holding alliance between the City and House Light. We've talked before many times about the fracture of eliksni society and the desperate ends to which it's driven its leaders - trying to reconstruct old Houses, embracing Dark powers, or abandoning any pretense of the old ways altogether - but Misraaks pursues the elusive dream of an eliksni-human alliance. He's allied with Variks and knew of Riis-Reborn, but instead of rebuilding a separate society he seeks to "redeem" the eliksni in the eyes of the Traveler. Step one in his plan is to gain access to the Traveler and entry into the Last City via a tactic no House has yet tried: asking nicely.

And he got it, or at least the start of it, because at the start of Season of the Splicer the Last City got into trouble. Again. This time it was Savathun - or at least Quria, her subjugated Taken-Vex Mind - and rather than hucking a sunkiller at us, they took the sun away. Anyone else sensing a sun theme? Anyway, after practicing on the Dreaming City Quria cursed the Last City too, this time with eternal night. Unlike the Dreaming City, time chugged along just fine and people could leave and re-enter the City; instead the smothering simulated blanket of darkness drained electricity, fouled everyone's sleep, and seemed to heighten existing tensions and anxieties. In fact it seemed to be more about sowing discord than actually imperiling the City, which would fit Savathun's MO. As with the previous Last City threat, Rasputin's the obvious solution, but as much as I desperately want an epic Rasputin-Quria kaiju battle (sun AI! fighter of the night AI!) Red's still out of commission. So we needed another way to outfox that rare Vex threat that can't be punched in the face. Enter Misraaks.

Misraaks, it turns out, is one of the last practitioners of the eliksni discipline called Sacred Splicing - manipulating traces of ambient paracausality to affect machinery, in particular the Vex. Eliksni religion often gets simplified to "worshipping machinery," but this season gives us some much-needed insight from their perspective. Their name for the Traveler, "The Great Machine," might seem reductive or insulting to humans, but to eliksni it's one of reverence. A machine - a made thing - is an expression of the combined will and spirit of its makers. Machines aren't sacred in and of themselves, but as vessels for the united spirit and effort of many eliksni contributing to the collective good. A ketch means everything to its crew - air, food, shelter, livelihood - and it takes all of the crew's efforts to keep it going; the ketch itself, then, becomes the vessel for its crew's desire to support their comrades and improve their mutual welfare. Eido, Misraaks' adoptive daughter (yes, she's named for Sjur Eido, and yes, we stole her rocket launcher) and Scribe of House Light, talks about how eliksni sometimes built piecemeal representations of the Traveler with every passing House contributing a panel to the sculpture - symbolizing how, even though the Houses embodied different philosophies, they were united in building the civilization enabled by the Great Machine. In that sense then the "Great Machine" is the expression of a far larger will - the will of the universe, or at least of the Light, which is really a more accurate way of looking at it than the human version.

As part of this philosophy linking will and machinery, eliksni "Sacred Splicers" developed the ability to directly manipulate machinery by drawing on faint traces of Light. They're especially talented at messing with Vex and the Vex network, and without either a lynchpin Mind to punch or a grouchy bastard AI to sic on Quria, their ability to unravel a simulation from the inside was the next best bet. So in return for sheltering the endangered House Light within the City walls - and letting the devs repurpose the excellent Botza District map from the final two encounters of Scourge - Misraaks has guided Guardians in their first fumbling attempts at splicing through Quria's curse. And while subtlety and diligent practice aren't Guardians' strong suits, we can pour in far more power - enough to kick down the door and storm the Vex network in a violent high-budget Hackers remake.

And that's pretty much where we're at at the moment: hacking (heh) our way through an excellent Vex remake of Tron, hunting for Quria somewhere within, while outside different City factions argue and rage about letting the species that's been their primary threat for the last thousand years inside the walls. We found what claimed to be Quria, but I don't believe that thing was the real Mind for a second. I'm as sure that that wasn't Quria as I'm sure that Osiris is currently not Osiris, which by the way is a thing, but that's a bigger problem that will probably come to a head in the next couple weeks and I'm betting remain a problem till the beginning of 2022, when the Witch Queen expansion finally drops. In the meantime though: don your best neon, strap on your powerglove, load your sidearm, and come do battle in CYBERSPACE.

Destiny 2 Compendium Armarum Exoticarum

[ Ace of Spades | Ager's Scepter | Anarchy | Arbalest | Bad Juju | Bastion | Black Talon | Borealis | Cerberus+1 | The Chaperone | Cloudstrike | Coldheart | Collective Obligation | The Colony | Crimson | Cryosthesia 77K | DARCI | Dead Man's Tale | Deathbringer | Dead Messenger | Devil's Ruin | Divinity | Duality | Edge of Action/Concurrence/Intent | Eriana’s Vow | Eyes of Tomorrow | Fighting Lion | The Fourth Horseman | Forerunner | Gjallarhorn | Grand Overture | Graviton Lance | Hard Light | Hawkmoon | Heartshadow | Heir Apparent | The Huckleberry | Izanagi’s Burden | The Jade Rabbit | Jötunn | The Lament | The Last Word | Legend of Acrius | Leviathan’s Breath | Lord of Wolves | Lorentz Driver | Lumina | Malfeasance | Merciless | MIDA Multi-Tool | Le Monarque | Monte Carlo | No Time to Explain | One Thousand Voices | Osteo Striga | Outbreak Perfected | Parasite | Polaris Lance | Prometheus Lens | The Prospector | Queenbreaker | Rat King | Riskrunner | Ruinous Effigy | Salvation's Grip | Skyburner’s Oath | Sleeper Simulant | Sturm | Sunshot | SUROS Regime | Sweet Business | Symmetry | Tarrabah | Telesto | Thorn | Thunderlord | Ticuu's Divination | Tommy's Matchbook | Tractor Cannon | Traveler's Chosen | Trespasser | Trinity Ghoul | Truth | Two-Tailed Fox | Vex Mythoclast | Vigilance Wing | The Wardcliff Coil | Wavesplitter | Whisper of the Worm | Wish-Ender | Witherhoard | Worldline Zero | Xenophage ]

[peralta-guaranteed]

good trope or bad trope: one of them waking up from surgery or something and being so high on drugs they forget they're together and the other has to explain it

good trope GOOD trope good trope! and this was probably just a question but I couldn't resiiiist

-*-

It's kind of sad to think about the fact that Amy is already used to monitors beeping in a cold hospital room around her squad and, mostly, around her partner. They've been in so many horrible situations, so many little moments where she's had to worry about them, that today she's almost glad she doesn't have to. Jake's surgery had neither been scheduled nor planned, and there had been a whole lot of panic leading up to it when she drove him to the hospital wincing in pain, his arms clutched around his lower stomach, but the doctor's told her they came in early enough for it to be a more routine procedure rather than an emergency. And now his appendix was out, and he would be hurting and healing for a while, but the trepidation about that is nowhere close to the fear she's used to feeling while sitting in these uncomfortable hospital chairs, wondering when the person in the bed next to her would wake up. The last time she'd been in this position, Rosa was hooked up to so many many more machines, and she looked like a bad wax figurine of herself, all pale and stiff.

Jake looks almost fine, no breathing mask or tube down his nostril, just a little beeping heart monitor and some infusion in his arm. The nurse told her he'd be waking up soon when she lead her into the room, and that they could probably go home later that evening already.

(She also told her that he'd been one of the more amusing patients she'd had under anesthesia, which was not a surprise, and that he'd been asking for her every time he groggily opened his eyes for just a few seconds, which was not a surprise either.)

He blinks awake slowly, eyes darting around the room as if to figure out where he is, before they land on her and stay stuck, his forehead creasing in confusion for a second before he grins.

"Heyyyy, it'sa Santiago!" He tries in a croaky voice, and Amy reaches for the cup of ice water the nurse brought in to hand it to him. He's shaky, but he can handle it alone, she notes almost subconsciously - she remembers enough moments where she's had to feed him ice chips instead because he could barely move his arms.

"Hey." She answers with a softer smile as he gulps down almost the whole cup - considering he still hates water, he must really need it. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, just splendid, thanks." He quips before trying to sit up more and wincing, the stitches in his stomach upset. "What the hell did I do this time to end up here?"

"What?"

"I mean, I don't remember a chase or a fight, but it sure feels like I took a knife to the stomach or something?"

They look at each other, equally confused, before Amy shakes her head.

"You dont remember-? It wasn't a work thing, Jake, your appendix almost burst."

"Ah dang. That's not even a cool story for a new scar." He sighs as he leans back a bit against the pillow and carefully palms the space where she knows the skin is going to be light pink and rougher than usual from now on. "Sorry they made you wait around for my stupid ass to recover, or is the squad at least taking turns?"

She stares at him, her mind racing, and it seems to make him nervous. He's still trying to go for that usual grin, but his eyes are darting around, sticking to parts of her without looking directly into her eyes, and she can see he's getting fidgety. Mixing that with what he's saying, and the way he's saying it - his voice is different, somehow, more - guarded, or distant, it's hard to explain, but she only remembers it from a long time ago - makes her suddenly realise.

He's been given some very heavy duty painkillers and narcotics, she hears the nurse's voice in her head, so he might be disoriented or confused for quite a while. It shows differently in lots of people, so I can't tell you what to expect, but he'll be back to normal once it passes through his system.

He doesn't remember, she thinks. He doesn't remember... a lot.

"Jake." She gets his nervous attention back, trying to school her voice into something calm and friendly, instead of the equally nervous and somewhat excited giggle she wants to let out so bad. "I think you're still working through your medication. Can you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

He leans back again and stares at the ceiling, and it's hard to read the emotions on his face.

"Just... regular work stuff, to be honest. Nothing big."

"Okay, then what is the last big thing you can think of?"

"Uh." He swallows, and Amy refills his water cup, but he doesn't take it. "I, uh, I remember Hoytsman kidnapping me." He laughs a short laugh, obviously trying to make it seem lighter than it ever was, but that's not the only reason Amy feels her heart jump.

His mind is stuck before their relationship. After Sofia left him. He thinks he's woken up after being injured at work, and there's no one there waiting for him except for a work partner who he's been trying so hard to pretend he doesn't like anymore, and for whom he obviously has to play the "I'm okay!" role still.

"Wow. Uh. Okay." She babbles, trying to find a way to be gentle and not confuse him any more. "Then, uh, I guess, well, your medication should pass soon, I think, and you'll remember more, so don't worry-"

"Amy." He's staring at her when she finally looks up, and notes her shorter hair, her far more comfortable outfit than the pantsuits he sees her wear at work, and even while high on drugs it's not that hard for him to put two and two together. "How much am I missing?"

"Quite a lot." She finally admits, but drops her look down into her lap, to her folded hands, and she unconsciously covers her wedding ring before he can see it. "A few years."

"Years?!" He squeals while leaning forward and then groans, because that has definitely upset his wound.

"It's okay, the nurse said it would happen." She quickly tries to calm him. "It's - you'll remember when the anaesthetic passes properly, so it's alright."

"Alright, yeah." He nods and finally settles into the pillow again, as silence envelops them for a few awkward moments, in which Amy's mind races through all the things he's missing right now.

"Okay." He interrupts her sad little mental storybook of their life's drama. "Let's play a game until then, huh? I call it 'Shock&Tell'."

"Jake-"

"It's easy, you'll get the rules. Basically, you tell me stuff I don't know right now and see how shocked you can get me."

"That's not funny-"

"Oh, I think it is. I know how much you like to have me speechless." He grins at her, and she can't resist.

"Title of your sex tape."

"Amy Santiago!" He gasps with a laugh, but there's hesitation in his eyes, and she remembers they weren't exactly at a flirting stage back where he is right now. "For that alone, you have to play a round with me."

"I can't think of anything shocking at the moment." She lies, and he sees right through her.

"Okay, then tell me the worst thing you think happens to me in those years, and the best. From your opinion."

She sighs and stares at her hands again, but she knows he won't let up - he's not gotten any less obnoxious from back then to now.

"Alright. The worst thing. You went to jail." She states, matter of fact, and watches his eyes practically bulge out of his head.

"Holy shi- WhAT?! Like, for a crime? Or-what-did I-what?!"

"You were innocent!" She says as fast as she can, and watches him deflate only a little.

"I sure fucking hope so! But still, what- how- why- ?"

"You and Rosa were framed by a criminally corrupt cop. It took us a few months to get evidence against her and have her sentenced instead."

"A few months." He whispers and stares at his hands, scrunching up the blanket he's wrapped in.

"You weren't alone." Her voice is soft and calm now, seeing him in such a state of unrest, and it takes all she has not to pull him into a hug - it'd probably both confuse and actually hurt him right now, given the stitches. "I mean, you were alone in prison, but we- the squad - we were all fighting for you and Rosa, and Charles and I visited you, and we- I- we never gave up on you."

He smiles, soft and a little broken, but he nods, as if that was something he'd always expect.

"Okay, now the best thing. Because lemme tell you, Santiago, you have to make up for that suckerpunch."

She smiles much wider now, almost grins as she leans forward to finally reach for his hand, entangling their fingers (to which he goes along almost automatically) and feeling her rings clink against the one on his. Jake's eyes are frozen on her hand in his, where he can see a shiny wedding band over what is clearly his Nana's old engagement ring, and he's barely breathing.

"Oh my god." He whispers a moment later, squeezing her hand almost painfully tight as he looks at her again, and she's still smiling.

"We're married?"

"Yeah."

"To- to each other?"

"Yeah, you doofus." She laughs.

"I'm- I'm your husband." He whispers again. "Even thought I went to jail?!"

"Well", she still laughs softly at the absolute shine in his eyes, the awe on his face. "You proposed after that. But I would've married you before, anyway." I would've married you before a lot of things you don't remember, she thinks but doesn't dare say, for fear he'll ask about those other things.

"You're my wife." He says, still stunned, and she nods. "We're married."

She nods again, and watches as the confused awe on his face turns into an almost relieved joy, and his bottom lip trembles as tears start rolling down his cheeks.

"Jake..." She whispers in turn now, her free hand (that is not currently being gripped by both of his) cupping his face and wiping away some of the tears that keep flowing.

"You're happy?" He asks with trepidation in his voice, and Amy wonders if the emotional rollercoaster is another side-effect of his medicine or just his lowered inhibitions. "I'm a good husband?"

"I couldn't wish for a better husband. You make me very happy." She's almost close to tears now herself. "I love you so much."

He gasps at that, and pulls her still gripped hand up to his face, pulling her closer to him in the process.

"I love you, Amy." is his answer, and she realises he means it, even with all the things he doesn't remember, all the things he doesn't know yet. "I love you so much. I can't believe I get to marry you."

His tears have calmed down a little by now, and she fixes her awkward pose of leaning forward and having both arms reach for his face by climbing up onto the bed with him, as he lowers their hands and looks at her with stars in his eyes and so much love on his face, she can't resist to pass the last few inches and kiss him.

His eyes are still closed when she pulls back and touches her forehead to his, and he's whispering again.

"Wow."

"Well, that's certainly an appreciated reaction." She giggles.

"Don't tell me I don't react like that every time you kiss me, because there's no way I'll believe that."

"Yeah." She smiles again as he opens his eyes and smiles back. "Yeah, you kinda do."

And just to prove it, she kisses him again.

[pagingdoctorbedlam]

For the 2500 Follower Challenge for @some-piece, I present...my first ever reader insert fic! I hope you all like it~

Characters: Rob Lucci x Reader

Prompt: “Please wake up. Please!”

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

TW/CW: Hospital rooms, vague mentions of pain and injuries

Word Count: Approx. 1k words

-

The last thing you remember is being carried, held tight against a warm, furry chest by a pair of muscular arms. It was perhaps the only thing keeping you together.

The mission had started out so routine. There'd even been time before it all began for your usual banter with the notoriously taciturn Rob Lucci, and you swear this time you almost got him to smile. Or at least, smirk. You'd settle for a smirk. You've been working toward that smirk for a long time now, to crack open the mask of that serious assassin to show that there's a human underneath.

You don't remember what took you out. Your target fell, yes, you and Lucci are professionals and taking out a single measly revolutionary is no problem for the likes of you two. Even the revolutionary's friends were no problem. There's a good reason why you and Lucci are almost exclusively paired with each other on missions, because your skills complement each other perfectly. But then...pirates? Probably pirates. Pirates muck everything up, and that'd explain the explosions.

With all the ringing in your ears at the time, you don't know what was said, if there was shouting at the time or grim silence. Just being held tight, a heartbeat pulsing deep enough to cut through the ringing, the rush of wind against your face. If you're right about who saved you, he must've pushed the limits of his power to carry you out as fast as possible. And you're pretty sure you're right about who saved you, because you remember the brush of fur against your cheek, the only comfort to distract from the pain.

It's strange. You know you should be in pain right now, but it all feels so far away, like the distance between your nerves and your brain have been swaddled up in puffy rolls of gauze. Someone must've gotten you painkillers, maybe anesthesia. You haven't dared open your eyes. But you smell that harsh antiseptic, that iron tang, and you've got a good guess as to where you've ended up.

You're scared that if you open your eyes, you'll learn that something awful has befallen you. That you're injured beyond repair. That you're no longer fit to serve your purpose. That you won't be able to see your partner anymore, the man you've worked with so often that he even features in your dreams, before you've even gotten him to crack a grin.

(That he might turn away with a disgusted scowl, because you were too weak, and he won't look back.)

The rest of your senses slowly surface from their numb haze. Little tendrils of pain threaten to return, creeping along the back of your skull and around your joints. But they're soon banished as something squeezes your hand. Long fingers, softer than you'd expect even though they're covered in tiny scars, are interlaced with your own. A thumb rubs slow, methodical circles into your skin.

Overhead, a bird coos.

"I know, Hattori. I know." You'd recognize Rob Lucci's voice anywhere, even when he sighs. "There isn't an excuse for it. We...I should've paid better attention."

The fact that Rob Lucci lets himself admit this aloud means no one else is in the room, and he thinks you're still unconscious. Part of you wants to jolt right up, damn any potential pain, and let him know you're here, you'll be okay. But those fears still gnaw at your mind, and so too does a hint of curiosity at this side of your partner that you've never seen.

Lucci continues, bitterness in his voice. "We weren't supposed to let any of us get hurt like this again, Hattori. All the training, all the work to get here, was supposed to prevent this. So why isn't it still enough?"

Wings flap overhead. Hattori lands softly on a shoulder and offers a worried trill.

"Yes, I know. But not everyone heals the way I do. And you heard what the doctors said." Lucci squeezes your hand tighter. "Y/N, I know you're better than this. You wouldn't be one of us if you weren't. You'll prove them wrong, won't you?" 

He's trying to hold that stern note that he always uses around others, but underneath it, he sounds...no, desperate isn't the right word. Rob Lucci doesn't get desperate. But it's as close as he'll let himself get, the mask he wears loose and threatening to slip.

"Once you're out of here, you and I are going to train together to ensure we don't have a repeat of this incident. It'll be difficult work, but you're more than capable. I wouldn't be here if you weren't." There's a pause as Hattori coos again, and Lucci seems to weigh an answer on his tongue. His thumb lingers over your wrist, as if waiting for your pulse to pick up. He admits quietly, "I'd even like to see you outside of missions and training. Around the city, or...wherever you'd like to go, if you would allow it. So...please wake up. Please."

The weight of his words drift from your ears into your chest. This is a man who orders, not asks. This is also a man whose hands are for killing, but right now they're holding yours, attempting to coax you back to life.

You let your fears ago, exhale them softly into the antiseptic air. You squeeze his hand back. You don't let go even when the pain begins to break back through your haze.

You open your eyes.

Rob Lucci composes himself again as quickly as possible, but his hair's still mussed, and his brow is still knit with worry. "Y/N. I'm relieved to see you're back with us."

"Cut the act," you say back, voice rougher than it should be but still strong enough for your usual banter with him. "I heard every word of it. And I'd love to go out around town with you, once I'm out of here. Even if we have to get through training first."

For the first time since you've met him, Rob Lucci honestly, earnestly smiles.

[mouse-fantoms]

Wisdom Teeth

This is completely bc of @blush-and-books post, this is comepley your doing Julie gets her wisdom teeth out, Luke sticks around to help her, somethings are said

“What’s the plan for today boss?” Luke asked Julie when she came into the studio.

“Well,” she addressed her band, “looks like we’ll have the week off from practicing together since I have to get my wisdom teeth taken out.”

“Ick!” They all shared the same disgusted expression.

“Oh!” Even though one could not forget that her band mates were ghosts, it slipped her mind about their pasts. They did have lives before meeting her. They had become so improtant to her in the present that the past slipped her mind. None the less, whenever their past was mentioned, she was curious. “You guys have had them taken out?”

“Couldn’t do anything for about a week.” Luke groaned, remembering the experience.

“And Reg helped you ‘learn’ guitar because you thought you didn’t know how.” Alex input.

“Why’d you ‘help’ him?” Julie’s eyebrows knit.

“He was heartbreaken! I couldn’t just leave him to think he couldn’t.” He explained. “And then Alex was-”

“Oh if you think I compliment you all time,” Luke looked to Julie, “if Alex is under anesthesia oh he will not hold back.”

“I was out of it. My head was in the clouds.” He recalled.

“You still mean what you said about me having a perfect smile?” Luke flashed his said smile.

“Okay but I was nothing compared to what Reggie was like.”

“Oh come on guys.” He looked down, not wanting them to bring up the embarrassing memory.

“What happened?” Julie asked curious.

Alex explained, “We helped walk him out of the building and he started flirting with the cars.”

“...it wasn’t flirting.”

“You said ‘That’s a lovely shade of red, you should wear it more often’ to a convertible.”

“Okay all of us were pretty out of it.” Reggie concluded.

“Well, you guys won’t have to worry about me because Dad will be taking care of me.”

Her statement turned out to be particularly true. Julie however, might have topped Reggie’s ‘flirting with a car’ wisdom teeth story.

~~~

“How long as it been?” Luke wondered. “Since she left?”

“Please tell me you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.” Alex could tell right away.

“What?”

“She’s only been gone 30 minutes.” Reggie answered Luke’s previous question.

“And how long did ours take?”

“She’ll be out of it. She won’t be making sense.” The blond knew that wouldn’t stop him.

“I’m sorry that I’m concerned about the well being of our band mate.” Luke put a hand on his heart excusing his actions.

“Our band mate being Julie.” Reggie added how she wasn’t just any band mate.

“Fine you guys can sit on your butts while I go see how she’s doing.” Neither stopped him from poofing our because there would be no talking out Luke Patterson from checking on Julie Molina.

After poking his head in a few rooms, he finally found where Julie was after seeing two people in scrubs leave alongside someone in a white coat. He entered through the door just before they closed it. The chair was in the middle of the room, the back towards the door. He saw Julie’s head rested on her shoulder, she hadn’t waken up yet. There was a set of two chairs against the wall on the right. He took a seat in the chair that was closest to her.

Once he sat down, she started to move her head. The classic ‘I-probably-should-get-up-but-I-don’t-want-to-get-up-yet’ move. She moved her head to the center of the head rest and her eyes opened. Feeling the throbbing pain in the back of her jaw she went to feel it.

“You just got your wisdom teeth out, remember?” He reminded.

“Luke,” she said endearing, speech slurred, her head turning to him, “I’m glad you’re here.”

Wow. He was so glad Reggie or Alex weren’t in the room to see him blushing like crazy.

“Me too.” He finally found the words. “They probably went to get your dad. They’ll be back in a little.”

“It hurts.” She said in reference to her mouth.

“It should feel a little numb from where they had to take them out. You might be swollen later.” He remembered his experience. “But maybe you’ll get ice cream later that helps with the pain.”

“Ice cream!” She perked up. “Will you get me ice cream?”

It was hard not the resist the eyes that had stars in them. “I mean,” he breathed, “yeah if you... if you want me to.”

“I only want you.”

Wow! She must have been under some serious anesthesia. 

He hesitated, “You don’t,” he fidgeted in the chair, “mean that.”

It was just the anesthesia talking. Obviously.

“Of course I do.” She put her right arm down on the arm of the chair. “Why else would I decline a date with Nick?”

“...a what now?” His mouth a gap from shock.

“You and me connect in some many ways. Flynn has no idea what she’s talking about by saying you’re ‘just air’.”

He didn’t know whether to be offended or taken aback with the words coming out of her mouth, probably a bit of both.

THAT ANESTHESIA WAS REALLY TALKING!

“You and I dance way better than him.”

“...dance?”

“Yeah, when you came through the mirror when Nick and I were in dance class. Your hair all pushed back, looking goofy.” He couldn’t tell if her smile was from looking back fondly on the memory or laughing at him. “Our song was-”

“Our song?” Either the anesthesia was making her really really looping or he was hearing something he probably was never met to.

“I had to write it down considering how amazing it was. We truly are in Perfect Harmony. I put it in my dream box to get it out of my mind. Even though I don’t get why I would.” She laughed at herself.

Before he could ever find the words to say, the door opened and in came the specialists along with Ray. He poofed away into the garage feeling like he found out something he was never supposed to know.

~~~

It had been some hours later since Julie had gotten home from getting her wisdom teeth removed. It had also been a few hours since the anesthesia had worn off.

“Do you need anything?” Luke asked, hands in his pocket, at the foot of Julie’s bed.

“I already told you I’m fine.” She said, gauges in her mouth. “Dad told me to text him if I need anything.”

“But I’m asking you if you need anything. Do you want that ice cream yet?”

She blinked. “What?”

“You asked if I could get you ice cream later after I said that’s one thing that helps with the pain.”

She had a vague memory of seeing Luke when she opened her eyes.

“Just wanted to check and see how you were doing.” He excused.

“What else did I say?” She asked curious.

“Oh you know... the usually loopy things you say on anesthesia.”

“If you do get it will that make you stop asking if I need anything?”

His smile was her answer.

“Fine,” she rolled her eyes though smile appeared too, “I’ll take the ice cream. Make sure Dad doesn’t see floating ice cream.”

She watched as he poofed away. He poofed into the kitchen, first checking to see if anyone was nearby. Once making sure the coast was clear he opened the freezer and spotted the tub of ice cream, he grabbed it then opened the silverware drawer and took a spoon out setting it on the lid on the container.

However, before he poofed back to her room, he had a sudden idea. He poofed to the garage, ice cream in hand slightly forgetting about it. He set the tub down on the coffee table.

“Not for you,” he told Reggie who was sat on the couch, “for Julie.”

“So that’s where you’ve been.” He heard Alex say from his drums.

He didn’t respond to the comment and instead made his way up to the loft. “Do you mind if I look for something in your bag Reg?”

“...guess not?” He replied confused.

He watched as Luke took his black backpack and upzipped the small pocket. “Ah ha!” He exclaimed pulling out a comb.

Alex moved away from his drum set in order to see Luke up in the loft.

“Wow... a comb.” He said clearly amused.

They watched as he used it.

“How do I look?” He put down the comb and extended his arms for effect.

“Like a goof.” Alex let out.

“...interesting.” Reggie answered.

“Perfect!” He went down the ladder, grabbed the ice cream on the coffee table and poofed to Julie’s room.

“Voilà!” Julie saw the ice cream container be placed next to her on bed from the corner of her eye.

“Tha-“ she looked up to thank him but was caught off guard. “Luke,” she addressed, “what are doing?”

“Was just seeing something.” He played off as he russled his hair to return it to his forehead. As he did, Julie had a sudden thought.

“...you know about Perfect Harmony don’t you?”

“I may or may not know of the existence of a certain song that’s in your dream box.”

She put a hand to her head, not believing that she let it slip.

“Also perhaps may or may not know of you declining a date with that Nick guy.”

“Did I say anything else?” She wondered if she embarrassed herself even more.

“No that was pretty much it.” He said rather quickly. “Also if you could tell Flynn the ‘just air’ comment is a little insulting and I’d rather not be referred to as that.” He said before poofing away.

Something told her that the next songwriting session between them would be a little bit different to say the least.

[meredoubt]

Thinking about how my Titan would take all the recent stuff with Mara. Suggestions of Young Wolf/Crow.

“Be careful with my brother, Titan.” Mara Sov’s voice is silky-smooth, nearly as cool on the ear as her hand on their arm. She is carefully, as though with practice, graceful. “He can be...devoted. Cloyingly so.”

Max Wolf wishes they could sink into the ground. They nod firmly, unable to meet the Awoken Queen’s eyes. Ager’s Sceptre is stunningly heavy in their hands. Maybe it’s just in their head, but they swear it’s freezing. It’s so...alien.

They turn to leave her presence, and her grip tightens imperceptibly. Max pauses.

“Do see that my gift makes it to your mentor unharmed, will you?” Mara’s voice is a soft threat. “I should hate to see it lost again. And...do your utmost to convey the worth of this weapon when you present it to her. I have many such trinkets in my vaults, and such stories to tell her. Surely it will be tempting enough for her to call on her queen.”

“Of course, your Majesty.” It tastes foul in their mouth, and they’re still grimacing under their helmet when Mara waves them away. 

Something is wrong.

Their calm holds all the way back through the H.E.L.M. All the way through the tense ride in their ship. But it breaks, finally, when they reach their favourite spot on Felwinter’s old mountain. They’ve been here...more times than they can count, looking down from this view. Just trying to breathe in the brisk air. It used to be they’d be hiding from their twin, but now-

They just have to get away from it; sometimes it feels like they never will. The lanky Titan hugs their knees to their chest to keep their hands from shaking, and stares out beyond the mountains.

How do they keep being made to feel so small? When will their successes make them big enough to not push down on? Is this what it’s going to be, forever? Is this what the Traveller brought them back for, destined to be a...a lackey? They’ve worked so hard, to turn around from the bad old days in the Crucible. They’re not dangerous anymore. They don’t need to be watched anymore, especially not by someone like-

like her.

*

Max startles awake, groggy still with anesthesia and painkillers.

She is here.

The Titan reaches for the handcannon strapped to their thigh, still, even so long out of the Hunter game, and feels...nothing. The heavy cleaner thick on the air, the incessant beeping, the fluorescence coming from the doorway...they remember it all at once.

“Well, if you had to lose a whole half of you...”

Her lilting voice comes from the window. Max flinches, and looks over hesitantly towards their mentor.

Ariadne Dead-Eye isn’t looking back. She is instead perched on the windowsill, taking in the whole of Suraya Hawthorne’s small farm. Max remembers very little about it, given the condition they were in when they were brought in, but it seemed...quaint. Quiet. At the very least it isn’t crawling with Red Legion.

It doesn’t seem like Ariadne thinks much of the place. Her profile, striking in it’s beauty, radiates a combination of boredom and disdain. She seems a million miles away, her delicate hands almost absentmindedly stroking a massive bow that Max has never seen before. She turns suddenly, her single eye glowing in the dark, and soundlessly hops down, bow in hand.

Her Ghost, Pixie, dutifully follows. He looks over the Titan with a baleful sickly green eye, as though analyzing their usefulness. He’s always given Max the creeps.

As the two approach the sickbed, Max tenses. The Hunter’s face twitches into an unconvincing smile. 

“There, there,” she coos, patting the Titan’s cheek. “I don’t have time to train you today, darling. I do, after all, have a City to take back.”

She lifts the bow unceremoniously onto Max’s lap. “And look at my new toy to do it with! Isn’t she the most beautiful monster you’ve ever seen? As soon as I saw her, I knew I had to have my way with her.”

“Have her,” Max corrects absently. It is an impressive weapon. Enormous.“Who did you kill for her?”

Ariadne laughs, waves it off, her eye never leaving her new possession. “Who could care? They couldn’t keep her. I will be much more fitting. Can you imagine anyone else bringing her the glory she deserves? Who else could bring her an entire city to save?”

Her voice sounds as cheerful as it usually does, but to Max’s close watch, she’s looking a little ragged. But strangely...radiant. She’s always delighted in a whirlwind of chaos and destruction. Seems like a lot of people are wishing for rescue.

“How’s the effort going?” they rasp. When did they last speak? Or drink?

Ariadne tuts impatiently. “While you were sleeping, I’ve made contact with Zavala. The man’s frantic, obviously.” She rolls her eye. “But...Titan-and the Titan-secured, and I’m on to see what trouble Cayde has gotten himself into.”

Max feels at least some of the weight leave them, and can’t help but eagerly ask,“Any news on Ikora?”

Ariadne’s smile, genuine for a brief moment, disappears. Rage flashes through her features, and she darts closer to the bed in sudden movement. Pixie watches placidly.

“No, no thanks to you,” she hisses. “What did I leave you on Earth for? Where were you when the Legion showed up? I have an apprentice to protect the City in my stead, so I can pursue actual meaningful work, not to-”

She gestures at the sickbed, as though Max losing their legs was an unfortunate inconvenience.

“It was an invasion, Ariadne. I did my best.”

The two of them watch each other for a long moment, simmering when an energy pregnant with violence, before her face twists into a more neutral expression. The Hunter steps back, folds her arms, and looks away.

She doesn’t need to say it, but Max can still hear it. It wasn’t enough.

Their mentor sounds bored again when she breaks the tense silence. “See that you can stay put this time, will you? No wandering off, Titan. I need an ear here for any info on Ikora’s whereabouts.” 

Max nods tiredly. Not like they have much choice.

Ariadne hums contentedly, her mood already moving on. She turns to the door. “Good. Rest up, Titan. Get back up on your feet as soon as possible.”

She turns to Pixie, laughing at her joke, and tosses a wink back at the bedbound Titan with her one good eye, before she sweeps from the dilapidated sickroom. 

Max closes their eyes, and let’s out a long breath. Matchstick materializes just next to their shoulder, the Ghost’s cheerful blue eye still managing to look worried. 

“Is she gone?” they whisper. 

Max knows they know she is. But they still like to hear their Guardian say it. 

“Yeah. Yeah. She’s gone. We’re good, Matchstick.”

*

When Max returns long after sunset, they’re quiet. Their twin had invited them to ramen tonight, so they make their way down there. They almost don’t go, but Matchstick enourages them to. 

It’s more of a crowd than usual, but that’s alright. More people talking means they can slip out faster. The Titan sits down between their Warlock twin and Amanda, pulling a bowl toward them, but finds they’re unable to do more than pick at their food. They manage to smile in the right places, at least. 

But as the night passes, they find themselves watching Crow, which isn’t unusual. He looks back, more often than not. It’s...more confident now, his gaze, than it used to be. He smiles, looks away, looks back. He’s clearly delighted by the attention, surrounded by friends. He’s so different than he used to be, both with Spider and...before. With Mara. 

They wonder what he’ll do. 

[realityphantoms-stalker]

Warm - Douma x Reader Oneshot

—

"Okay, there's no denying it. I fucking love Douma." I thought while looking at the blonde sitting in front of me.

It's been six months since I first laid my eyes on this gorgeous man, and my feelings have only grown stronger the more we interact. "But it's frustrating because literally, everyone knows he's a player." I frowned.

"Meh, a girl can dream right?" I snapped out of my thoughts as the teacher called on me. "Miss L/N, would you mind sharing as to why you're so distracted?" I rolled my eyes and stayed quiet. "Hm. Now then, answer this question." The female teacher pointed at an equation on the board.

"The answer is x8," I said nonchalantly. "Correct." Then the class went on as usual. Soon enough the bell rang, signaling it was time to go home. "Miss L/N please stay after class I need to speak with you." I groaned internally at her words. I just wanted to go home.

"Okay." I answered, simply. I swung my bag over my shoulder and walked up to the teacher's desk. Everyone had already left for the busses, so it was just me and the teacher. Or so I thought.

All of a sudden I felt someone swing their arm around my shoulders. I jumped in surprise from the sudden contact. "Heyyy Y/N-chan! You're staying after school too? Is it detention?" I heard a familiar voice say. I whipped my head around and came face to face with Douma.

"O-Oh no the teacher asked me to stay," I replied, stepping back a bit to create a distance between me and the handsome man. "Oh really? Same here!" He clasped his hands together.

The teacher cleared her throat and we both turned our attention to her. "I see you've met..." she started, "now then, the reason I asked both of you to stay after school is that Y/N, I want you to tutor Douma." My eyes widened in surprise. Douma made a pouty face in response. "Ehhh?? I thought I was making good grades!" He whined.

"Douma, you have a 40 in this class." The teacher facepalmed. I decided to stay quiet and see how this played out, because, well, I'm not against spending time with Douma anyway. "Oh, well then I guess me and you are study buddies now!" He faced me and grinned. "My house at six." He winked. With that, he ran out the door. "W-Wait! The teacher isn't done—" I sighed.

I faced the teacher and gave her an apologetic look. "Sorry.. is there anything else you need?" I bowed. "No that is all... but do you even know where Douma's house is?" She asked. I deadpanned.

"N-No.." She snickered and wrote something down on a yellow sticky note. "Here's his number, call him and ask him yourself." She handed me a sticky note. "And before you ask, I have his number because it's written on his student ID form." I nodded in response. "Thank you!" After waving goodbye, I made my way to my car and left.

When I arrived home I threw my bag on the couch, and quickly pulled my phone out of my skirt pocket. Taking out the sticky note from earlier, I put in Douma's number and sent him a message.

————————————

Y/N

...dude you didn't even

tell me where you live

(this is Y/N btw)

Douma

Ohhh my bad! Just

come to house XXXX,

Kimetsu street 💕

Y/N

ok thx  😻✨

Douma

Wait how did you get

my number

Y/N

teacher gave it to me

im not a creep I

swear 🙄✋

Douma

Lmao okay see you at six

Y/N

cya

————————————

I put my phone down and checked the time. It was 4:30 pm so I had time before I needed to drive over there. I decided to go pick out clothes since, well, I want to look nice in front of my long-time crush. Although this is supposed to be casual, I wanted him to look at me and think I'm beautiful. It can't be helped, this man is my addiction.

I opened up my closet and picked out a f/c blouse and a flowy red skirt. I removed my school uniform but kept my black, thigh-high tights on. After replacing my school clothes with the outfit I picked out, I walked over to my vanity.

"Hmm... what hairstyle should I do?" I thought to myself. I decided on doing a high ponytail and leaving my front strands out to frame my face. When I finished doing my hair I took a good look at myself in the mirror. My blouse was neatly tucked into my high-waisted skirt and my tights were hidden securely underneath my skirt.

My outfit was casual but nice at the same time. I smiled, happy with how I looked. "Maybe I should wear my earrings." I debated whether or not I want to put them on. "Eh, why not." I grabbed my moon-shaped earrings and put them on my ears.

"There we go." I said out loud. I checked the time to see an hour has passed. "Ehhh?? I took that long?" I thought confusedly. I grabbed my bag, since it has notes I could use to help Douma, and ran out the door.

I hopped in my car and put Douma's address into its GPS system. On the way there I found myself freaking out. I mean, I'm literally going to my crush's fucking house right now! How could I not freak out? "I'm so excited yet at the same time so nervous."

"I really hope I don't end up annoying him..." I was worried he'd not like me and I'd ruin my chances with him. "Well I shouldn't dwell on it, it's not like this is a date or anything, it's just tutoring."

The GPS said I was here so I pulled over to the side and parked. I found myself in front of a large apartment building and sweatdropped. "I hope he doesn't have roommates... seeing as he lives in an apartment."

I texted him that I was here, then took my bag and got out of the car, locking it to make sure it doesn't get stolen. "Wait... what room number is he?"  I deadpanned. "This man really doesn't know how to tell someone the information they need."

I was about to text him again to ask what his room number was when someone called my name. I turned around and saw Douma running up to me. "Y/N! Y/N! you're finally here let's go!" He took my hand and dragged me inside.

I blushed from the contact. "U-um..." I stuttered out. "So, before we go up I do have a roommate, his name is Akaza and he's a bully." He rolled his eyes. "But don't worry he's out with his girlfriend, Koyuki, so we'll have the apartment to ourselves." He stopped in front of a door and quickly pushed me inside.

"Here we are! Make yourself at home." He walked over to a couch and plopped down on it. I sat down next to him a good distance away and opened up my bag, getting some notes and papers for math.

"So... what are you struggling with in math?" I asked. He shrugged in return. "I honestly don't know, I thought I was doing good in everything but I guess not." I sweatdropped at his answer. "Ah.. okay well if you don't know what you need help on then I really don't know how to tutor you..." I scratched the back of my head.

"Then let's do something else instead of studying!" Douma suggested. "Eh? Like what?" I tilted my head as I asked. Douma's cheeks were tinted with pink after my reaction. "What about... hide and seek tag!" He clasped his hands together.

I deadpanned. "Isn't that a game for kids..?" He chuckled at me. "You're never too old for anything! I'll be it first okay? Go hide nothing's off-limits." I nodded and ran out of the living room as he counted. I opened the first door down the hall and found myself in what seemed to be the master bedroom.

"Ahh... where to hide..." I looked around and saw the nightstand had a cabinet that could fit my petite form. I crawled in the cabinet just as I heard Douma yell. "Time's up! I'm coming Y/N!" After he said that it was eerily quiet. "It's like a fucking horror movie." I thought.

Suddenly I heard the door creek open and I held my breath. "Y/N~ are you in here?" He said, dragging out your name for effect. My heart was pounding in suspense as I heard his footsteps come closer. "Under the bed?" He stopped in front of the nightstand and presumably check under the bed. "Guess not... what about the cabinet in the nightstand?"

As soon as I heard that I bolted out of the cabinet and dodged his attempt to tag me. "I knew it! You're done for now." He laughed as he chased after me. "Nooo! Get away." I laughed along. I looked behind me as I ran down the hall and saw him getting closer.

"Hey! Y/N watch out!" I heard him yell as his eyes widened. I looked back in front of me and ran headfirst into a door. "Oww..." I fell back on my butt and felt tears well up in my eyes. "That hurts like a bitch." I clutched my forehead in pain.

"Y/N! Are you alright?" Douma crouched down next to me and looked at me in worry. "Yeah, I'm fine, it just hurts and I feel dizzy." I responded. "Here I'll go get you some ice." He got up and hurried to the kitchen. I heard the fridge door open and Douma muttering to himself.

He came back with an ice pack in hand and held it to my forehead. I blushed from the close proximity and quietly thanked him. He smiled at my shyness and helped me up. "Do you want to stay the night? It's late and I let you get hurt so it's the least I can do." He asked. "U-Um if you don't mind..." I didn't really want to drive home at night, it gave me chills just thinking about it.

"It's fine! You can take the guest bedroom." He gently pulled me along to a room and opened the door. "Here it is, if you need anything you can find me in the living room most likely." He handed me the ice pack and smiled. "Thank you for your help." I bowed. "Ah, it's nothing." He waved it off.

I felt my dizziness get stronger and I held my head and squinted. "You okay?" He asked, tilting his head. "Y-Yeah I'm just really dizzy." I answered. My knees buckled and I lost my footing. Thankfully Douma was there to catch me. "Oh my, I really hope you don't have a concussion or something." I was suddenly too tired to respond.

He picked me up bridal style and sat me down on the bed. "Stay here I'll try to find some medicine for your dizziness." He left the room. Although my mind felt like it was on anesthesia, I was still able to freak out about the fact Douma carried me like that. Through my drowsy state, I silently fangirled. "I'm back." He handed me a glass of water and a small pill. "It'll help you, take it." He smiled at me.

"Thank you." I whispered, before taking the pill. Building up my courage, I grabbed the hem of his shirt. He looked at me, clearly confused. "U-Um.. could you stay with me until I fall asleep." I asked shyly, avoiding his gaze.

He smiled warmly and nodded. "Sure thing Y/N-chan." He sat down next to me and I plopped my head into his lap. He chuckled at my behavior. I closed my eyes as I felt him petting my head affectionately. He pulled a blanket over my petite form and continued petting my hair. "Goodnight Y/N," and under his breath, I swear I heard the words, "I love you."

Sleep captured me before I could question whether or not I heard correctly. But nevertheless, it made me feel warm.

—

[zeldah-writes]

Can’t Lose You (Spencer Reid x Reader)

Masterlist

Summary: A oneshot in which Reid’s injury leads to more than the usual “get well soon” from the reader. (Fluff, tiny angst)

Pairing: Spencer Reid and Reader (female)

Note: Hi there! I’d just like to say that I’m new to all of this and this is all in good fun. I love to read, so I thought that I’d give writing a chance. I’d love to hear what you think. Enjoy :)

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of weapons, mentions of gunshot wounds, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of cheating, mentions of blood

Word Count: 2,159

------

“Jonas Everett, put the gun down,” Spencer demanded, as he assessed the situation in front of him.

You and the team have been in San Francisco for the past six days, working through another serial killer case. After many late nights and many phone calls to Garcia back at Quantico, the location and identity of the unsub was finally revealed. 

Right now, Jonas was armed and holding a young girl hostage.

“Who… Who the hell are you?!” Jonas yelled back at Spencer, clearly distraught at the fact that he was being disturbed by the FBI. 

So distraught, that Jonas forced the young girl he had tied up on the floor next to him to stand, while he pointed a gun to her head. The girl cried out, but was muffled by the cloth she had tied around her mouth.

“Alright, it’s okay, look. I’m going to put my gun away,” Spencer slowly lowered his gun and holstered it, putting his hands up after to show Jonas that he wasn’t a threat.

“My name is Spencer Reid and I work for the FBI. Listen Jonas, you have all the control here, I just want to talk. Me and my team have been studying your work. We think that what you’re doing is great and we want to show the world. You want to be famous right? We can make that happen.”

Jonas wasn’t picking his victims at random. The profile suggested that he was most likely hurt by a significant other because the only thing that linked all the victims was that they were all in a relationship where one partner was being unfaithful to the other. That, and the fact that all the victims had the word cheater cut into their forearm.

In the eyes of Jonas, he’s doing everyone a favor by getting rid of all the cheaters he could get his hands on. After killing the victims, he would place them in a public setting out in the open as a way to humiliate them as well as make himself known, without giving away his identity. He wanted any and all the recognition and reactions that the people could give him.

“Y-you think that my work is good?” The hand that Jonas held the gun in trembled as he tried to process what Spencer was saying to him.

“Oh, most definitely. Statistically, about 40% of relationships and 25% of marriages deal with at least one incident of infidelity. I think that all cheaters need to pay for their actions and face the consequences,” Spencer lied, knowing that he needed Jonas to trust him.

“You better not be lying, I need the public to know! They need to know what they’re doing is wrong! Everyone needs to know! You can do that, right?” Jonas yelled, as he took the gun away from the young girls head and pointed it at Spencer again.

“I promise you. I will make sure the whole world knows you name and what you did to keep people safe,” Spencer tried to reason, as he saw you and JJ creep around the corner behind Jonas, making sure to stay out of his line of sight.

Just as Jonas was about to lower his gun and surrender, he noticed Spencer’s eye flicker towards something behind him. That was the moment when Jonas knew Spencer was lying and trying to get into his head.

“You filthy liar! You’re no different!” Jonas became enraged and took a shot at Spencer.

As soon as you sensed danger, you retaliated and fired your gun towards Jonas, but you were a second too late. Your bullet hit Jonas in the back as Spencer got hit in his left shoulder, a place where the bulletproof vest didn’t cover.

Jonas fell to the floor, bringing the young girl with him as he used his last breath to whisper out, “liar.”

“Spencer, oh my gosh!” You sprinted across the empty room to Spencer as JJ ran to the young girl on the floor.

“We have an agent shot down, requesting medical asap please!” You frantically spoke into your earpiece, while applying pressure to Spencer’s wound.

“Y/N, please don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I hate seeing you so stressed out,” Spencer whispered, as he panted heavily. 

“Just stay awake, okay Spence? The medics will be here soon they’ll take care of you.”

After a few seconds, two emergency responders came and took Spencer away on a stretcher, spewing medical terms you couldn’t focus on. You’re biggest concern was Spencer’s well-being. 

“Hey, he’ll be okay. You know how strong he is. Now c’mon, lets go follow them to the hospital,” JJ comforted as she led the way to the SUV parked outside the factory.

~~~

Two hours later, you and the team were gathered in the hospital's waiting room, all anxiously waiting for an update on Spencer. 

As you sat with your right leg nervously bouncing, you couldn't help but feel guilty about the whole situation.

Spencer wouldn’t have gotten shot if you noticed the change in behavior quicker. If you hadn’t hesitated to fire your gun. How could you let this happen. What would you do without Spencer? You've already lost too many people in your life, you can’t lose him too. 

When you first started your job at the BAU three years ago, you specifically remembered Spencer catching your eye. He wore black slacks with a navy vest that covered a light blue button up shirt and a tie.

When you and Spencer were first introduced, you barely conversed with each other. You thought it was because Spencer didn’t take a liking to you, as you would always try to strike up a conversation with him, but all your attempts would end up with Spencer finding a way to awkwardly leave the conversation. Unbeknownst to you, however, your theory was far from the truth. When Spencer first saw you, he was entranced by you. He desperately wanted to talk to you, but whenever he tried, he found himself getting too nervous to hold a conversation, so to avoid being further embarrassed, he simply found ways to get as far away from you as possible. 

Just when you were about to reluctantly give up trying to talk to the handsome genius, he gained the courage to make a comment on a book you were reading, which led to a real conversation between the two of you. 

After that conversation, you and Spencer immediately clicked, and as time went on, you two eventually became best friends and basically inseparable. It started off with innocently getting coffee together in the morning and sitting together on the jet, but as you grew closer together, it turned into spending the night at each other’s apartments and being each other’s plus one to events. 

What you neglected to acknowledge, however, was the fact that you were starting to develop a new kind of love for Spencer. A romantic kind of love. 

Just because you pushed the new romantic feelings away doesn’t mean that the rest of the team didn’t pick up on it. According to Garcia, both you and Spencer were ‘blindly in love with each other.’

Despite the teams teasing, you thought that there was no way Spencer would ever be able to reciprocate your feelings. You were convinced that he saw you as a best friend, and absolutely nothing else. 

“Are you all here for Spencer Reid?” a man in scrubs holding a clipboard stood in front of you and your colleagues as you snapped out of your thoughts. 

“Yes, we are,” Hotch said, as him and the rest of the team stood up. 

“Alright, well, the bullet didn’t hit any major arteries or organs which made the surgery fairly easy, for us and Spencer. As for his recovery, I strongly advise for him to take a few weeks away from the field, and he’ll be back in full health rather quickly. He’s starting to gain his consciousness back and you’re all free to visit, but to avoid overwhelming him, one at a time please.”

As you listened to the doctor's words, you felt a big weight on your shoulders just disappear.

He’s okay. Spencer’s okay. 

You bit your lip and glanced at Hotch, seeing him already looking at you. 

There was no doubt he knew how much this was affecting you. 

“Go ahead, Y/N.”

You shot Hotch a small smile and turned to the doctor as he started to lead you to where Spencer was. 

“This is it, room 23D,” the doctor said, as he stopped in front of a closed door with ‘23D’ engraved on a sign next to it. 

“Thank you so much,” you turned to him. 

He nodded with a smile and walked towards a group of doctors a few feet away. 

You took a deep breath to brace yourself, and opened the door. 

“Y/N?” Spencer croaked out as you walked through the door. 

“Spencer… you’re okay,” you sighed in relief, closing the door behind you. 

You walked towards him and sat in a chair next to his bed. He looked tired, no doubt from all the anesthesia. You smiled at him and pushed his messy hair away from his forehead, something you would do often. 

Even after surgery he managed to look so attractive. 

“I am. A little sore, but it’s not like this is my first time getting shot,” Spencer smiled up at you, rubbing your arm that was pushing his hair back. 

“I know, but… I was so worried. Spence, I can’t lose you. I don’t know what I would do with myself. Especially because it was my fault! I shouldn’t have hesitated and-” I started to ramble before Spencer cut me off. 

“It wasn’t your fault. I know you probably don’t believe me, but it’s true. I’m here right now and I’m here to stay. I’m not going anywhere,” Spencer moved his hand that was on my arm to my cheek. He smiled reassuringly, but the action just made my heart beat faster than it was before. 

“I love you, Spencer,” you blurted out. You could feel your face getting warm as Spencer stared at you. 

“I love you too, Y/N,” Spencer replied after a few seconds, thinking that you meant it as a friendly gesture. 

“No, I mean...I just,” you stopped to take a deep breath. “Spencer. I’m in love with you.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, his grip on your cheek loosening. 

You looked down, embarrassed of what you just confessed. You weren’t even sure why you said it. It just came out in the heat of the moment.

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t-”

“Look at me,” Spencer cut you off and took your hand in his, but you refused to move. Gripping tightly, he whispered, “please.”

You cautiously trailed your eyes from the ground up to his chocolate eyes that were intensely focused on you. 

“Y/N, I’m in love with you too.”

Wait. What? Did you hear him correctly?

“What?” 

Spencer laughed lightly and pushed a couple strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“I am so madly in love with you Y/N.”

When those words came out of his mouth, you nearly fainted. On the outside, you kept your composure, but on the inside, you felt like you were on fire and could combust any second. You couldn’t resist the smile that broke out on your face, though. 

“I know you insisted you’re okay, but I do recall you saying you were a bit sore. Is there anything I can do to help,” you bit your lip and smiled at Spencer, subconsciously leaning closer to him.   

“Now that you mention it, I think that a kiss would really make me feel better,” Spencer smirked as he trailed his hand up your arm.

“Yeah? And where would that kiss need to be, Dr. Reid,” your faces only inches apart by now. 

“Right here,” Spencer breathed out as he pulled your face towards his, capturing your lips.

Your hands immediately found themselves tangled in Spencer’s unruly hair, while his hands were grasping your face.

The kiss was so full of passion and love. It felt like two pieces of a puzzle were finally conjoining, like you belonged together. When you kissed him, you felt your whole body heating up with desire. You wanted to stay there and kiss him forever, with no end. 

But alas, the beautiful moment was broken by the need to breathe. 

You were both breathing heavily, as you rested your forehead against his. You stayed in that position for a while before Spencer started to talk. 

“You know, if you keep kissing me like that, I think I’ll recover much faster than the doctor suggested.” 

“Well, we can’t have you away from the field too long, right?”

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 35

Peter put the slime in a clear acrylic box before piping music into it. Maybe, if he adjusted the formula just a little bit, it could reconstitute after exploding. Maybe it could be made into some kind of new, flashy speaker. Something like a lava lamp, but better.

He needed to do something to take his mind off his conversation with Wade the night before. They were dating?! And Peter was the one who asked if they could! He couldn't believe he’d been so bold—but Wade had said yes.

And Peter had utterly destroyed the dinner he’d set out to cook, so they’d had to order food. He hadn’t even known that meatballs could explode. At least Wade was entertained. The other man had laughed so hard he’d almost retched into his mask. So—a maybe win?

“Peter, what is that?” asked Dr. Stacey as she peered over his shoulder.

“Slime. It always explodes when the beat gets too fast, so I’m trying to make it pull itself back together.”

“Huh.” They watched as it vibrated quickly. “Is that what got me the other day?”

Peter ducked his head nervously. “It’s easy to clean.”

The slime in the box exploded, dripping down the ceiling and the sides. “Why don’t you try making it so that it doesn’t explode in the first place?” she asked thoughtfully.

“Because then it wouldn't be water soluble,” Peter explained.

“Huh.” He turned to see Dr. Stacey staring at the cube. “By the way, security let me know that you have visitors.”

“Wade?” Peter was confused. Usually Wade arrived at the entrance to the lab with security behind looking confused. He’d never known Wade to actually wait—anywhere, come to think of it.

“As long as he’s not getting blood in my lab, I don’t care.”

That sounded—really specific, and wasn’t a story Peter had heard before. Should he ask? Was it socially acceptable to ask? Was it better to pretend he hadn’t heard the comment?

“And your visitor is still waiting.” She sounded slightly upset.

“Right! Thanks, Dr. Stacey!” Peter hung his lab coat up and went to flee the lab.

“They’re in the first floor cafeteria!” Dr. Stacey called to him as he left.

He nodded briefly before heading to the elevator. He kept expecting his new ID not to work, or for the alarm to sound trumpeting that he was an intruder, or something like that. He was still surprised every time his ID worked.

The first floor cafeteria was where the general public could waltz in, gawk at the Tower, get something to eat, and then waltz back out again. It didn’t make sense for Wade, who always burst in on Peter while he was working, to politely inform security to ask for Peter. Not the least because, although he was usually manic and over-the-top with a Devil-may-care attitude, Wade was not fond of being in with the general public.

At no point during his conversation with Dr. Stacey did it occur to him that it might not be Wade waiting for him. Despite the fact that she’d said visitors and mentioned “them,” he thought he knew who would be there, in the cafeteria. He was surprised.

Pleasantly, though. He couldn't imagine what had brought them to the Tower, but he was always happy to see his friends. “Harry! MJ!” Peter called as he made his way over to the table they were sitting at. He wasn’t surprised that the table was getting covert glances from other employees. After all, Harry was the heir apparent to Oscorp. They smiled back at him while he took a seat at the table—which was laden with food from the cafeteria.

“Peter!” greeted Harry. He was paler than normal, and stayed in his seat. He was clearly having a bad day.

MJ jumped up and hugged him. “Hey,” she said fondly before ruffling his hair like the little brother she’d always seen him as.

“Hey,” said Peter shyly. He looked at Harry. “What brings the two of you here?”

“We heard about your semi-promotion,” Harry said. “Thought we’d come, congratulate you, and feed you lunch while we’re here.”

“So, have you made anything exciting?” asked MJ as she pushed some of the food towards Peter.

Peter absently ate as he explained about the slime. He didn’t talk about Dr. Stacey’s project, because he was pretty sure that was confidential information, but his slime was no such thing. He didn’t get into the technical terms of what he was doing, but explained the general broad strokes.

By the time he was finished the curiosity had worn off and their table was no longer under scrutiny. “What brings you two here?” he asked quietly.

Harry smiled. “You think we can’t just want to help you celebrate your promotion?” he teased. At Peter’s pointed look he sighed. “You’re right. We have news.” He reached over the table to grab MJ’s hand. “We’re going to be going to Paris.” He smiled at her before meeting Peter’s eyes with determination. “Permanently,” he added.

Permanently? Permanently meant— “Harry,” Peter started.

MJ reached over and grabbed one of Peter’s hands, getting his attention. “Peter,” she said softly, “I’m pregnant.”

For one bright, shining moment, Peter was thrilled. She was pregnant? His two friends in love were going to have a baby? That was awesome! Excellent! Exciting!

And then ice water flooded his veins as he stared at them numbly. If Norman knew—if he found out—

They nodded. “We wanted you to be the first to know,” Harry said.

“I—I—there are no words,” Peter admitted to his friends. They got up from the table, hugged him, and then they left and Peter stumbled off. There was a place in the stairwell that was isolated from the rest of it. Peter thought that maybe it had started out as being an entrance to a floor, but the idea was scrapped for some reason.

If Harry was going to Paris, he wouldn't be in range of his father’s phone. He wouldn't be able to receive the ten digit code that was keeping him alive. He would die. Harry would die.

Harry would die, so that his child would have a chance to live in peace without Norman breathing down its neck.

“Peter? What’s wrong?” Peter looked up and saw Wade, in full Deadpool costume, standing in front of him. He quickly sat down next to Peter and reached out to touch the smaller man’s back. “You okay?” he asked.

No. Nothing was okay. Peter wasn’t certain if anything would be okay again. He flung himself into Wade’s chest and just sobbed. All the tears he’d held back for years. Wade simply wrapped his arms around Peter, and let him cry.

When the sobs finally trailed off he found himself mostly in Wade’s lap, and not minding a bit. “What happened?” asked Wade. “Who do I need to kill?”

“It’s not something that can be fixed by killing someone,” Peter said softly, his voice scratchy from crying so hard.

“You don’t know that.”

“My best friend is going to die.” The statement came out flat, unemotional, almost like Peter didn’t care—but he did care. He only had two friends; Harry and MJ, and Harry was going to die. “And he’s going to die because his father’s a lying, manipulative, son-of-a-bitch who should have been drowned at birth!” snarled Peter.

“Okay. How?”

For the first time, since the beginning, Peter began to tell the story. “Harry was born with a weak heart,” Peter said softly. “We all knew it was a matter of time. Then, then Norman—Norman said he had an idea. It was experimental, and it might not work, but it was a product that his company was producing. So he put Harry under anesthesia and operated to give him this shiny new, experimental heart. That’s what he told us, after the fact.”

“So, he got a doctor to work on his kid?” hazarded Wade.

Peter chuckled darkly. “I don’t think there was a real doctor with him,” he said grimly. “See, the fake heart has a fatal flaw—if Norman doesn’t send the right ten-digit code after a certain amount of time—it stops working. Harry starts to die. It’s almost happened a few times,” Peter admitted thinking of the last time, of watching Norman casually pour himself a drink as his son gasped in pain after his heart almost stopped.

“Whoa.” Wade was silent for a moment as his hand made soothing circles on Peter’s back. “That’s why you didn’t want your own lab?” he hazarded.

Peter was slightly surprised that Wade knew about it. He didn’t think that would be the kind of thing that Deadpool would be interested in. “If Norman ordered me to use my position to sabotage something, I’d do it,” Peter said firmly, “to protect Harry.”

Wade was silent for a moment. “Okay,” he said after a moment. “I’m not normally an advocate of this sort of thing, but why didn’t you tell someone?”

“What good would that do?” asked Peter wearily.

“Well you—might be able to get help?” Wade sounded uncertain, unsure.

“There are only four people who know what happened to Harry. That would be Norman, Harry, MJ, and me. MJ is an actress with a budding fashion line. She has absolutely no scientific background, the lowest scores in science that was possible while still managing to graduate high school, and is known for being a little bit of drama queen. If she says anything, everyone will assume she’s making it up for attention.”

Peter paused, debating how to phrase the next part. “Then, there’s Harry. And Harry—isn’t much better. The only reason he passed high school at all was because I was tutoring him. Again, no scientific background and I seriously doubt there’s proof.

“Then there’s me. I have a scientific background, I have enough medical knowledge that I can prove what I know—but I work for Stark, Norman’s biggest competitor. If I say anything, Norman will just play the wounded bird, claim that I’ve been brainwashed by Stark, and do everything in his power to make Stark look like a rampaging egomaniac who desperately needs to have someone controlling him so that he doesn’t destroy the world.” Peter spread his hands. “There’s nothing I can do. There’s nothing any of us can do. And Harry’s about to go overseas, to go and live in a country that Norman has no intention of ever visiting while he waits to die.”

Wade hugged him closer as more tears leaked down his face. “Don’t you worry Petey-Pie, I know someone to talk to.” Peter looked at him in disbelief, and Wade chuckled. “Don’t worry; it’s not Stark.”