#ive been wearing a brace and trying to rest my wrist | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moonbaby26 · 4 years ago

Text

Title: Escape

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

Notes: Actual pairing interaction starts in the second section after the Reader character gets out of the elevator, feel free to skip down to that if you like. Reader thinks about Peter in the first section, but it is more setting up how they got so separated from the others, plus a Wolvie cameo. I wanted Peter x Reader to be able to have more interaction away from the group.

Summary: Continuation of previous chapter. Set during X-Men: Age of Apocalypse. You and the others have been taken to Stryker’s base and must survive to find your way out together.

Warnings: Wolverine cameo advisory with a 100% chance of stabby stab. Mild language.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

——————————

“The day of reckoning is here.”

Your eyes opened at once, that unmistakeable voice now reverberating through your mind as fluorescent lights passed one after another above you.

“Professor?” You breathed aloud, immediately trying to sit up on the moving gurney.

But the restraints were drawn too tightly as your head only rebounded backward just as quickly when your torso didn’t rise in tandem.

“Shit!” the guard to your left cursed, his hand drawing back from the gurney rail at your sudden movement.

You turned your head towards him, confused, even as the professor’s words continued in your mind.

Yet Xavier’s voice sounded strange, forced. And you didn’t understand the context. Was it a warning? A threat to someone?

It didn’t really seem to fit the current circumstances to say it was directed at you or your captors. But he only kept speaking.

“The dawn of a new era will emerge. For there is nothing you can do...to stop what is coming.”

The two guards were looking around too then, reacting in sync with the telepathic message leaving you no doubt that they could hear it as well.

But why would Xavier be in their heads too? Did he already know where you were?

One guard chided the other, as if the two of them didn’t both have the same frightened expression. “Damn stun pulse is wearing off it is all, just hurry up and finish this transport. Colonel Stryker wants it taken to the lower testing bay,”

“Don’t tell me you aren’t hearing that voice?” The other guard retorted, “What the hell is that?”

Did they just call you an ‘it’? What was this place? Not a hospital surely. But you could barely dwell on the implications of the guard’s words ‘lower testing bay’, and the impending threat that represented as your last memories finally began to bubble up.

The X-Mansion in rubble, the helicopters swooping in over the trees, the students and staff unconscious in the grass, that soldier cracking your ribs, and-

Peter.

He was a stranger to you still, but he’d been right there against you. Surely you had drawn more attention to him just because your powers had let you resist a few moments longer than the others. Because you’d been so stubborn, not going down until you’d been forced to.

If these men had hurt any of your friends, you would be furious. But if Peter, who had also saved so many of your friends was now in more severe danger because of your actions, you wouldn’t forgive yourself.

“Where did you take the others!?” You arched against the restraints abruptly, your palms opening to face upward, trying to summon any bit of your energy at all. A wisp, an orb, anything that could have helped you right now. You had to find your friends.

But nothing came. Not even a glow or flicker of what you truly were as you now had both guards’ full attention.

“Freak! Just shut up!” One of them shoved the gurney in retaliation to your outburst, the caster wheels rattling across the concrete floor before the bed rail hit against one of the walls, jarring you painfully.

“Those with the greatest power. Protect those without. That's my message to the world.”

Xavier concluded his words then. And somehow, that sounded more like himself than any of the rest of it. The real meaning still eluded you, but hearing him in that tone at least meant he was okay. He was somewhere urging the rest of you on. At least this part you knew was true as you took a calming breath, realizing panic and anger would serve you nothing right now.

Something was blocking your powers. That much was obvious. It would be unrealistic to think that the effects of any stun weapon would be this long lasting though.

On the other hand, you knew chemicals existed that could also temporarily block mutations. Hank used one almost medicinally whenever he didn’t wish to be in his true “Beast” form. But it had to be injected direct into the veins to have any real effect.

You could feel that they hadn’t removed any of your clothing, nor had they rolled up the long sleeves you were wearing. You doubted they would risk a chemical like that wearing off at an inopportune time and likely would have started an IV if they possessed anything of that nature.

There were no tubes or lines attached to you that you could tell, only the restraints now holding you to this bed. Leather straps across your body, metal cuffs on your ankles and wrists-

But wait, you were able to move your head as you’d already discovered. You shifted it again, trying to get a better feel of what was around your neck. Metal as well, but loose as you could still lift your head up enough to see it just a bit. It and its dull, red status light.

Inhibitor collar, you realized with an all new dread sinking in. You had heard of these of course, but it was the kind of thing that students sheltered at Xavier’s school would never have to dream of really. Something you never thought you’d have to experience personally.

How naive.

But you still couldn’t give up. Your mind was racing as you tried to come up with any strategies now. Your options were so limited, but they couldn’t keep you tied down forever. Surely they’d have to move you to a more permanent containment at some point, untie you if even for a moment.

Yet, there were guns as well. You hadn’t missed that detail, but you considered it more fully now as you glanced to the long barrells swaying behind each guard’s back as they pushed you along.

They were slowing now though. You raised your head enough again to see elevator doors nearing. The lower testing bay, you remembered them saying.

But just as one guard had started to reach for the keypad beside the doors, an alarm blared, all three of you startling at the sound.

Orange lights lit up along the walls, spinning in time with the sirens.

“Weapon X is loose. I repeat, Weapon X is loose!” A man’s unnerved voice sounded over speakers you couldn’t see, echoing down the corridors.

You could only watch as both guards spun around on their heels at that, guns immediately drawn. The one thing you could be absolutely sure of then, was that you were now the very least of their concerns.

Before you could consider how to use this surprise in your favor though, screams and the echo of gunfire erupted seemingly on top of you all.

The guards were terrified. This could be your only chance.

“Take this collar off of me, please! I can help you!” You weren’t begging as much as you were truly trying to reason with them. “Look, this is serious right!?”

More men were screaming just around the corner. Only feet away now. Clearly their time to consider had run out.

You saw one of the guards glance down at you, weighing your offer if just for that moment. The other was still staring straight ahead, gun braced, body rigid.

“FIRE!” The one not looking at you screamed, and that was it. It was too late.

You flinched as the gunfire rang deafening in your ears, the muzzle flashes just above you while empty bullet shells rained onto the floor.

You didn’t know how many bullets their gun magazines could hold, but the barrage seemed to just go on and on until an inhuman snarl rose even above the pounding gunshots.

Like a blur he was upon them. One guard was immediately thrown against a nearby wall, as if he were made of paper. His gun didn’t even faze the attacker.

You were frozen as you had to watch him die in front of you. Metal blades impaled the guard, blood splatter running down the wall as his body fell. You wished the other guard would have just turned and ran, but that probably would have been fruitless now too if you were being honest.

The attacker had turned immediately back around, one slash knocking the gun away from the remaining guard, and the second taking out his throat.

You were too in shock to do anything but close your eyes in the moment you felt some of the blood hit you. It was warm was all you could really process, before you opened your eyes again to now see the killer standing over you.

His breath was fast, eyes black, no emotion evident but rage. He had no clothing on him above the waist, just muscular and bloodied with metal cords coming out of his body and attaching to some sort of helmet.

You heard the random sound of more bits of metal hitting the ground, and thought you saw a few bullets working out in reverse from his flesh.

He was one of you then, a mutant.

But you were afraid to speak. Anything could set him off again.

He was looking down at you, through you really. You thought you saw his eyes go to your throat. The collar? Or maybe you just imagined it. Everything was happening in just seconds.

His arm swung suddenly, those blades were part of him you realized, attached to his fists as they came for you. At least it would be a quick death.

You felt a burning, heard ripping and even the metal of the bed breaking as he struck more than once.

“He’s here!” Someone else screamed from back down the hallway and the gunfire started all over again.

You moved at the sound, why you didn’t know, it should have been all over regardless. But in your amazement, you realized you could move. His claws had broken through the restraints, broken the bolts that held you to the bed. You were bleeding, but only from cuts as he’d grazed you.

He’d freed you.

The gurney tumbled over with a clatter as you jumped from it. But bullets were hitting all around you as the guards continued to fire at him. You still had the inhibitor collar on, so you couldn’t defend from that. You weren’t bulletproof like him.

And he was already charging them again, but there were so many this time. A bullet grazed your arm, and you knew you had to get out of there now.

You turned, hitting the elevator keypad. You had no choice as you wouldn’t make it out of this hallway otherwise. You ducked inside as soon as the doors opened, trying to stay against the sides even as bullets were now hitting the back of the elevator. The only way was down, and you took it.

As the doors closed, and the elevator finally sank below the firing line, you allowed yourself some real breaths.

To think, just hours ago your main concern had only been whether or not you were ready for Hank’s organic chemistry final. You’d laugh if you weren’t still trembling a little, clothes torn and blood all over, most of it not even your own.

Now it was time to find the others and a way out.

—————————

“(Y/N)?�� You heard in your mind, pausing in the abandoned hallway you were now wandering down. You’d left the elevator behind some time ago, but hadn’t yet found any other way back off this level.

“Jean?” You answered aloud, both surprised and relieved. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. We are now. I saw them take you too, but where are you?”

Talking to a telepath was always a bit strange. You could feel her own stress and anxiety as she began to fill your mind. She wanted to see what you were seeing.

You looked around you to oblige her, but from what you could tell every corridor only looked like more of the same in this labyrinth.

“I got into an elevator when all the shooting started, when that man-“

“Logan. We met him too. He’s escaped now, he-” She paused, your recent memories now visible to her. “He helped you.”

“He did.” You felt she both was and wasn’t surprised at this.

“Anyway,” She continued as if something was distracting her, like she was physically talking to someone else, while mentally talking to you. “The Professor needs us. We’re sending Peter to find you. He’ll bring you to us and then we’re leaving together.”

“Okay,” Was all you could answer, as you felt Jean leave your mind abruptly at that. You remembered Xavier’s odd speech earlier, something you really hadn’t had time to deconstruct any further with everything else that had happened immediately after. You supposed they would fill you in when you were all reunited.

But you did feel a significant weight leave your shoulders at the mention of Peter’s name, even though it sounded like this horrific day was still far from over. He was okay too then at least. You hadn’t screwed up enough to get him hurt in a way you couldn’t take back.

Yet how long would it take for him to find you? Should you just stay in place, or go back to the elevator now? You hadn’t found any stairwells or other-

“(Y/N)?”

You’d be lying to say you didn’t almost fall over in surprise as a tiny gust of air was the only other thing that announced him as Peter was suddenly standing beside you.

“You’re as bad as Kurt!” You gasped, before you could stop yourself. You clenched one fist at your side, at least having the self control not to punch him right in the arm as you might have done with some of the boys at school if they had given you that kind of scare.

“That’s the blue kid with the tail right? Not to be confused with the big blue hairy guy, he’s the one that told me your name by the way, or the blue famous chick from TV?” He shook his head, but his eyes were amused. “You guys have some kind of quota on the color blue or what?”

You stared at him. He did like to talk didn’t he?

When you didn’t respond right away, you saw his eyes wander down, then back up. “Red said you’d be a bit of a mess, but you sure you’re okay?”

Your shirt was torn from well, now you knew him as Logan...that man’s claws. Those cuts were still bleeding a bit, but the guard’s blood was on you as well. The metal shackles were also still on your wrists and ankles, though their chains had been broken, and the inhibitor collar was around your neck. Yes, you must look quite a sight.

“You mean Jean,” you corrected. She must have given him some warning at least before sending him. “Yeah, I’m fine. So you found another way out of here, we should-”

But he didn’t seem to be listening, either that or you weren’t very convincing on the being okay sentiment.

He looked quite serious all of the sudden. “I’m sorry I didn’t help you when Colonel douchebag was trying to work you over.”

You blinked. What was he talking about?

“Stryker I guess they said his name was, the guy that kicked you back at the house.” He just continued. “That piece of shit bailed already.”

“How did you know about that?” You asked honestly. Peter had been unconscious as far as you’d known.

“I mean I was in and out,” He answered, seemingly understanding your confusion now. “But uh...” He hesitated, kind of an awkward smirk building then. “I definitely remember you laying on me. The impact wasn’t that great, but afterward was pretty nice.”

Your felt a heat rising to your face immediately. The absurdity of being physically embarrassed at his implication and tone, as you stood here literally bleeding in the belly of some mutant torturing black ops lab was not lost on you.

“Look, I...” You didn’t even know what to say, but you knew if you didn’t start talking now you were never going to recover control here. “I’m really glad they didn’t hurt you, and I’m sorry too if I got you involved deeper in all of this. And I want to thank you for pulling everyone out of the mansion this morning. We owe you so much. I just-” Oh man, where were you even going with this? You looked to him still feeling like you were just digging yourself deeper, “You can stop me anytime now you know?”

He was now outright grinning. “You’re welcome, babe.”

Not helping. AT ALL.

You were staring at him again. “They’re going to be waiting on us, you know,” You felt you were going to be pleading with him in a moment.

“I know, places to be, worlds to save...” He just moved closer and you tensed a little bit. He noticed, but stood his ground. “I have to brace you or you’re just going to be hurt even more when I run you back to them.”

“So is that how you do it, then? You’re just that fast?” You asked honestly. His actual mutation wasn’t something there’d been any chance to discuss. You could infer only so many ways he would have been able to evacuate those in the mansion almost instantaneously. But you knew teleporters too, even people who could move through reality on other planes. There was always more than one way to do something.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” He chuckled, smirking enough for you to know he was still just picking with you as one of his hands went behind your head and the other to your ribs to brace you. He really did know where you’d been hit then.

His hands were warm, and you could smell that damn cologne again now as you tried to ready yourself for whatever was about to happen.

You didn’t know what you had expected. You knew how it felt to take off in a jet, or slam the gas pedal down in one of the Professor’s expensive cars, or ride on a really intense roller coaster. But this wasn’t that. There wasn’t even any time for your brain to register the acceleration. It felt like just a single heartbeat before you were standing back in front of those elevator doors with him.

It was the deceleration that hit you. By the time your body knew it was moving, it had already stopped again, your organs lurching and your equilibrium completely thrown off as vertigo took over. You leaned forward immediately, trying not to dry heave as puking seemed almost imminent.

He took one of your hands, his other hand moving down from your ribs to your waist as he helped support you still.

“It’ll pass. It happens to everyone the first time,” He spoke, probably the softest tone you’d heard from him to this point.

“You’re telling me there are people who have been-” You swallowed, fighting that nausea back down. “have been with you multiple times?” You meant to say multiple times like that. People who needed to be rescued this way multiple times. You stood up, still queasy as you tried to face him and correct this blunder immediately. Why did this guy have you so flustered!?

“I’m not normally like this,” you stammered, waiting for some great retort from him as you’d just left yourself wide open with that slip.

It was only then that you realized he still had one hand on your waist, and you were now facing him, just inches apart. And the silence was worse. It was much worse while he was just looking back at you.

“No,” He finally said, “I uh...I don’t have anyone that’s stayed around long enough for that.”

He wasn’t joking at all now and you knew it.

“I didn’t mean...” You started, but stopped again when you didn’t know how to finish.

But the vulnerability was gone just as soon as it’d come. His smirk returned as he let go of you, moving forward to hit the keypad for the elevator. “I did look for stairwells by the way, if you were wondering. It only took me as long as it did to find you down here because this damn elevator is slow as hell.”

You actually were a little relieved to finally be focusing back to the task at hand. But you still felt an unspoken conversation lingering that would need to be continued later. You wanted him to know who you really were.

And honestly...you now wanted to know who he really was.

The harsh buzz from the keypad brought you back to attention as Peter hit it again.

A tiny screen blinked “CODE ERROR” in red as he groaned. “It didn’t need a damn code to come down, that makes no sense!”

You responded in a few moments, realizing the likely truth fairly quickly. “But it would make sense if you were more concerned about things getting out of the lab than you were of things getting in.” The same would be true for the lack of entry and exit points. They surely weren’t concerned with fire safety or anything else but keeping their specimens captive when they built this place.

“Ugh, that’s dark,” He answered, glancing at you and then back to the keypad. “You’re almost making me not feel so bad for all the guys that looked like swiss cheese on the way down here. But lucky for you, you’ve got me, and these five hombres.” He waved his fingers at you before immediately beginning to punch in multiple codes in faster succession than of course would have been possible for anyone else.

“Peter, I don’t think-” You started, already having a good suspicion of how this might play out, before the keypad abruptly quit accepting inputs, the tiny screen then blinking LOCKOUT. The only thing that did surprise you was a new even thicker door suddenly closing over the original elevator doors.

And you couldn’t help it then. You laughed. A real laugh. It was just the dumbest icing on the cake. “Okay, Han Solo. I think that will do.” You didn’t care if he would understand the reference or not. You needed that laugh right now.

But he didn’t let you down. Not even for a moment. “Okay then Leia, then you show me how we’re getting past here to save the ugly little ewoks.”

You were still snickering a little, but you shook your head. “I can’t,” You motioned to the inhibitor collar still around your neck. “Not with this on. It’s blocking my powers.” You had hoped once you were all back topside that Hank would be able to disarm the thing. It was probably radio controlled or something like that. “We’ll have to wait on Jean and the others to realize we’re taking too long, they’ll come for us.”

“I don’t wait,” Peter retorted. “Besides, like I said, I showed you mine. Time to show me yours.” He tilted his head, eyeing you. “Really, I’ve been dying to know.”

“Sure you have,” You were skeptical, but it was actually hard to read him right now. Was he actually that curious about you? “And I’ve already tried to take it off, it doesn’t budge.”

“Again, babe. You didn’t have me before.” The smug tone was back, as he evidently had some plan you didn’t know if you were going to like or not.

“You realize, this thing is nearly against my jugular veins, right? What are you going to do?” You had every right to be hesitant you thought. Especially after the keypad failure.

“Just be still. I’m going to vibrate it apart.” He answered confidently.

Okay, now you really didn’t like this. “Again, head, throat, things I need to stay in one piece. What if it has some self destruct thing and explodes?”

“I can pull you away from that before it even burns you. How do you think your friends lived when your house blew up this morning?”

You could have mentioned Alex’s fate then, but that would have been needlessly cruel. Alex must have already been gone before Peter even entered the building. He did save everyone else you thought.

“Trust me,” Peter looked you in the eyes and you could feel yourself relenting.

You really did believe him it seemed. Hopefully that faith was not misplaced. “Please be careful,” You closed your eyes, going stock still.

“For you? Of course.”

You heard his jacket move, which told you he was raising his arms. Internally you tensed-

And then all you heard were pieces of metal and circuitry skittering across the floor in every direction. You were still standing exactly as you had been as you opened your eyes to a too pleased with himself Peter.

“Some shrapnel did try to go into your face, but I moved the pieces. No kaboom though.” His expression changed then to happily expectant, “So come on, I’ve helped three times now, the stage is now yours,” He made an exagerrated motion to the big metal door now blocking the elevator. “What’s your poison?”

Poison? An interesting way to put it, but you knew what he meant. All mutant abilities were both a gift and a curse. Yet even after all these years of meeting people of your own kind, it was still very personal to show someone your real self for the very first time.

Especially when you evidently cared what he thought of you as you realized your nerves were suddenly about much more than just being able to get open a door or not. How would he react?

You took a breath, still extremely aware of his eyes on you as you turned your palms upward. It was always easiest to start with your hands. But you’d need to bring the energy all the way through you to get the kind of power it was going to take to pull this door out.

There was a slight relief in you as your hands began to glow white after a moment. At least you knew you were no longer defenseless, that these people hadn’t taken your abilities permanently.

In your peripheral vision you could see Peter shift, but you didn’t look to him, trying to concentrate as the energy spread up your arms and you closed your eyes. It always felt so warm, like being in the sun on a clear day. It spread to your chest, legs, up your shoulders and over your face. Even through your hair as you willed the energy to lift you up, now completely enveloped until you were a silhouette of a person. Glowing in soft white light and levitating about a foot off the floor.

You opened your eyes again, feeling you had things in control enough now to speak to him. The tone of your voice changed slightly in this form though. There was a hum to it, the energy moving across your vocal chords like every other part of you.

“I’m going to try and pull the door out of the way and into the hall. Please be ready to move as I won’t have a lot of control over it once it gives. My effort is going to all be on breaking it.”

You looked to him after a moment though when he didn’t respond. You knew he was fast enough to keep himself safe obviously, but you had to be sure he was ready. Was he really just staring at you? “Peter?”

He blinked. “Yeah, uh. That’s...” He stepped back from the door, but never took his eyes off you, this weird expression on his face. “That’s cool.”

“Please mind the door,” You reiterated gently, not quite sure what to make of his reaction to your powers.

“Sure, sure thing.” He sounded more like himself then. “Do your deal.”

Your deal as he put it, involved willing this same energy now in a field around the door as you rose your hand up to control it. Once you were sure you had it solidly, you began pulling your hand back, trying to pull the door out of its railing.

It gradually started to creak, but like you’d thought, this was going to take some real doing. You pulled harder and harder, the metal just groaning louder. “Come on,” You spoke, not really sure if you were talking more to yourself or the door.

Your arm was starting to really ache with the effort. But just when you thought you might have to try something else after all, you finally felt the door give. And when it gave, it did so spectacularly. This massive chunk of metal collapsed, exploding out of its rail as it rocketed down the hallway. You just moved to the side to avoid it, the smaller pieces hitting you harmlessly in this form.

To your eyes it only looked like Peter disappeared and then reappeared as he also easily missed all the debris.

Once that obstacle was out of the way, you glided down, back to the normal elevator doors. They were slightly damaged from the removal of the larger door. But now it only took minimum effort to force them open.

You entered the elevator, the inner keypad was also blinking that same “LOCKOUT” error from earlier. So the elevator itself was going nowhere. But this was now no longer an issue for you.

“I can carry us up,” You looked to Peter, though unsure how comfortable he would be with this new idea.

He was standing at the entrance of the elevator already, watching you still. You could see the wheels in his head turning. And then he finally asked. “So, you’re glowing...and flying. Is this like radioactive glow, or I just need some sunscreen kind of glow?”

“It’s just light energy in the visible spectrum.” You answered reflexively. “But not even UV, the wavelength itself doesn’t cause any damage. It’s only when I make it solid or make it unstable that I can do anything harmful with it.”

You could see he may have skipped the lessons on long and short wave energy and radiation in science class as he just kept staring.

“You’re fine, it’s safe” You smiled. Certainly not the first time you had heard such questions. “The Professor and Hank had me tested from the very beginning, I never would have been allowed so close to other students without more precautions if I was that dangerous.”

“So you’re...close to some other students?” He asked almost tauntingly, one eyebrow raised, and it took you a moment before you realized he may be getting back at you for your comments from before.

It was probably just the fact that you were in your energy form now, but you felt confident enough to respond just as quickly, “It’s more like the Brady Bunch than what you’re thinking. Like having a whole house of little brothers and sisters.”

You had already opened up the ceiling of the elevator while the two of you talked, looking up now to the empty shaft and elevator cables. It’d be much easier to move the two of you rather than to try and lift the whole elevator. You reached a hand out to Peter. “I can lift us up the shaft to the floor that the others are on and open the doors, then you can take us to them. Deal?”

You had trusted him to bring you here, as well as to remove that collar from you. Would he now trust you to bring him up several floors without dropping him?

He was looking at your hand. “I probably could just run up the walls you know.”

You paused, realizing you hadn’t considered that. You didn’t really know what all he was capable of truly. But just as you started to lower your hand, he surprised you by grabbing and holding it.

“Yet how many guys can say they flew with you, huh?”

“Practically none,” You admitted. “I don’t make a habit of picking up my friends.”

“You aren’t quite building confidence here.”

“I’m sure that door weighed more than you.”

“And look how it ended up. Again, not comforting.”

This guy was truly something else. “Come here, we take much longer and they really are going to be sending a search party for us.”

You extended the energy from your hand across his body gently. He was obviously much lighter than the door, and the closer you kept him, the easier it would be to move the both of you.

You tried not to make eye contact with him again as you levitated the two of you through the top of the elevator and up through the shaft. Even though you knew you were fully capable of doing this, you still didn’t want to lose focus.

But his voice didn’t sound frightened at all as he spoke up to let you know how high to go. “They’re on the top floor, we’re stealing a jet to get out of here.”

“Wow, but okay. Got it,” You sped up a little at that, no longer worried about passing your landing point as you went straight to the top.

When you reached the highest doors, you were able to force them open with a turn of your free hand, bringing you and Peter safely through and back onto solid ground.

You powered down immediately as your feet met the floor, the light fading back into your body until you were just standing there in your torn, bloody clothes once more. “Okay, I’m ready to get nauseous again, let’s go.”

He actually squeezed your hand before he let go of it in order to brace your head and ribs again. “For the record that felt pretty good. You’re really warm. Zero g’s was cool too. Thanks.”

“Um...you’re welcome?” You answered, a little flustered all over again to your own dismay, and really not knowing what else to say before he whisked you away in an instant.

It really was going to be the longest day ever.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#quicksilver x reader #quicksilver #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximof x reader #x men apocalypse #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #x men fanfiction #x men

441 notes · View notes

fancyfade · 4 years ago

Text

so ive been debating editing chapter 3 on my fanfic to make 1 scene line up more from canon. (chapter 3 is this one, where the characters deal with the aftermath of battle for the cowl, Tim finds out Damian’s Robin, and Dick and Damian move to the penthouse)

I’m debating making the Tim finding out Damian’s Robin scene a little more canon compliant along what happened in Red Robin (link) for a few reasons, the main of which is in the scenes that I’m writing next (like... chapter 47 lol), Tim and Dick do have to talk about what transpired when Dick made Damian Robin. Potential reasons for change

In my fic Tim kind of just left on his own without a push, but I’m not sure if Tim would have left on such bad terms if there wasn’t the complication of Damian antagonizing him and him feeling as if Dick was picking Damian over him (even though in the comic we saw Dick trying to de-escalate and get Tim’s back, it still felt that way to Tim)

I dislike the way some of this was handled in the comic and I can’t really comment on it in my fic if I just retcon it out

it seems fair-er I guess if Tim is allowed to have flaws just like Cass and Damian and Dick all have flaws in this fic. i know many tim stans think otherwise, but punching a ten-year-old victim of child abuse in the face out of anger is wrong.

the con side is obviously this involves Damian getting hit and that kid has been through so much already. I’m really trying to figure out how it works with character dynamics vs like. give the poor kid a break-ness.

anyway if I did decide to replace the current chapter 3, this is what it would be replaced with (only the first scene, the second would be the same). If you are a reader of the fic feel free to leave your comments. I would do an “oh and I edited chapter 3″ note before the relevant stuff was mentioned if I go through with this, I wouldn’t like expect everyone to know what happened. Some of the dialogue is not like exactly like in canon (cuz thats boring and also to match with what I wrote the first time) but the feeling/ beats should be similar

Gotham’s finally had a bit of lull in the violence, and Dick is just wondering how he’s going to do this.

He’s accepted that Damian’s his responsibility – seeing the kid shot in the chest made that perfectly clear, as much as he would’ve liked it to be otherwise. He felt like he was way too young to be watching out for a kid in any capacity other than cool older brother, especially a kid who’s as difficult to get along with as Damian. He was a great fighter, of course, and he knew it – Dick’s not sure he’s ever heard the kid be humble about anything. To make things worse, Dick feels like he’s constantly stuck in the middle between Damian and the kid he actually views as his younger brother – Tim, who Damian tried to kill. Evidence in point:

“Robin?!” Tim asks once he’s gotten back on his feet and Dick's explained his plan – away from Damian, who's still recovering from surgery.

“You made Damian Robin?!” Tim asks again.

Dick sighs. He’s in the cave, in a Batman costume he feels doesn’t fit right at all with the cowl off, and Tim’s still in his regular clothes. He has no idea how to explain this to Tim – no idea how to make him feel like he’s not being replaced. Dick never wanted to be the one doing the replacing – he remembers how much it hurt to find out that Jason was Robin from the papers, and that was after he officially stopped being Robin. Tim never quit – and Dick’s not about to make him – but he has to come home to the guy who tried to kill him getting his name.

“Tim, I know this looks bad, but Damian needs this.”

“Remember when we thought Bruce was going to retire after Crisis?” Tim asks. “Batman and Robin was supposed to be us. You and me. Not you and the psychopath that tried to kill me.”

“Tim, you’re not my sidekick, you’re my partner – ” Dick takes a step towards Tim with his hand out, prepared to offer sympathy, but Tim shakes him off angrily.

“Obviously not!”

“And Damian needs me way more than you do. If we don’t keep an eye on him, he’s going to kill again.”

Tim scowls intensely. “That should really not be an endorsement for being Robin, Dick! He’s a killer! He belongs in jail!” Tim swallows a little and then lowers his voice out of shouting range. “Dick, he didn’t try to kill me because he for some reason thought it was the only way to stop me from doing something bad, as far as I can tell he just wanted to replace me. We’re talking about someone with absolutely no sense of right or wrong.”

“Of course he doesn’t have a sense of right or wrong. He’s a ten-year-old child who was raised as an assassin from birth!”

“Lots of our villains have really sad or sympathetic reasons for doing crime, that doesn’t mean we team up with them.”

“Are you serious?” Dick asks. “This isn’t the same, Tim.”

“How not?”

“Well for one,” calls Damian's voice from the stairs, and Dick can't help but cringe and think not now – “I'm a lot better than them.”

Dick's cringe only intensifies when he turns around to see what Damian is wearing. His new Robin costume.

Tim's hands clench into fists the instant he sees Damian. Dick knows he has to de-escalate things quick before Tim and Damian have another fight.

“Damian,” Dick says, trying to keep himself carefully neutral-sounding. “Shouldn't you be resting?”

Damian lifts his head up slightly so his nose is in the air, and walks down the stairs almost normally. There's only a little hesitation in the twist of his torso, a little stiffness of his right arm.

Either he's zoned out of his mind on painkillers or depressingly good at masking his pain for a ten-year-old.

“Please,” Damian says. “I was trained in the League of Shadows. Do you really think an over-the-hill ex-Robin could put me down?”

Tim's fist clenches further, and so Dick says, letting a bit more urgency slip into his voice, “Damian, shut up. Now.”

Damian puts his left hand on his hips and looks intentionally at Tim. He adds, “I'm not Drake – ”

He's barely got the word out before Tim leaps forward and punches him in the face. Dick's out of his seat, grabbing Tim to hold him back, who is still distressingly struggling against him, like he wants to keep up the assault despite the fact that Damian fell to the floor.

“My name is Tim Wayne!” Tim shouts as Dick is still holding him back.

Damian gingerly sits up. Dick prepares to release Tim, prepares to stop Damian if he has to, if he decides to get revenge. But he doesn't. He just briefly braces his right side with his left hand before wiping the blood off his face.

“I let you get that shot in, Drake,” Damian says, again dropping intentional emphasis on Tim's original last name.

As he does, Tim struggles forward.

“Tim, back off!” Dick says, because Tim still isn't cooling down –

“I want you to feel good about yourself,” Damian continues.

Tim seems to relax his stance slightly, so Dick, possibly in an error of judgment, lets Tim go. But Tim doesn't try to attack Damian again, he just shakes Dick off and starts stomping away. “You want me to back off? Fine.”

He's going for the exit.

If he leaves –

Dick can't chase him. He's not sure that he can leave Damian alone –

“Tim, wait!” Dick says, taking a step forward. “Bruce is gone. But I still need you.”

“For what?” asks Damian and damn it is there anything this kid isn't going to try to ruin?

“Shut up, Damian,” Dick says again, even though as far as he knows he's just going to wind up pushing Damian away too –

And Tim leaves.

Dick turns to look at Damian. The kid's already back to his feet, like nothing happened, and Dick takes a step forward to inspect the injury – though he's really more worried about the gunshot wound than Tim's punch. Both Tim and Damian had wound up injured pretty badly during the chaos that gripped Gotham in the rumors of Batman’s death. As his new and not-improved version of Batman, Jason had tried to kill them both, which Dick is way less than pleased about. He’d been kind of hoping that they could talk Jason down, but this seems like a line he doesn’t know if Jason can ever un-cross. He shot a ten year old in the chest.

Damian grabs Dick's wrist as he reaches out.

“Are you all right?” Dick asks.

Damian scoffs. “You're worried about Drake? I've been hit harder sparring my mother.”

“I was thinking about the gunshot.” Alfred had said the primary damage was blood loss and a punctured lung (well, traumatic pneumothorax, but Dick knew what he meant) and given the kid a minimum of four weeks downtime to heal.

It's hard to tell due to the domino mask, but Damian adopts the position of a kid who's rolling their eyes, head slightly tilted to the side with a loll. “It's not enough to impersonate Batman, now you want to impersonate my mother?”

Dick doesn't know how to approach the mother thing, so he doesn't even try. He just explains the logic for being Batman – (and there is logic behind it. It's not like he wanted this). “Someone has to step up and convince Gotham things can get back to normal,” Dick says. “And serial killer Batman wasn't going to cut it.”

“Did you at least take care of him?” Damian asks.

Dick knows that Damian isn't actually worried about Jason's wellbeing, so he says, “Do you mean 'did I kill him'?”

“Tt. Obviously.”

“Obviously not.”

Damian presses his lips together in a thin line.

Dick might as well get this out of the way now. He's going to have to sometime. “Alfred wants you out of the field for four weeks.”

“That's preposterous!” Damian shouts, and as he shouts, he coughs. He rubs his chest quickly and then glowers at Dick when he sees him staring.

“Damian, you could have died.”

“I didn’t.”

Jeez, doesn’t this kid have any sense of his own mortality? Though, Dick supposes, growing up around Lazarus Pits and a centuries old grandfather might make that impossible.

“I’m not a fool, Grayson, I know I’m not capable of healing instantaneously. I’ll take a break for one week,” he offers, like it’s a huge concession on his part.

“Four weeks,” Dick says.

“What about you?” Damian asks. “Didn’t you get injured?”

“Not as badly.”

“Are you taking a break?”

“Someone needs to convince Gotham that Batman’s not dead,” Dick says. Also, he doesn’t want to take a break. He doesn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. Losing Bruce. Failing Tim.

“Tt. Then I don’t need one either. I’m younger. I heal faster.”

Dick actually has no clue whether that’s true, because he’s not a doctor, but he knows that people usually say kids heal faster.

Dick swings his arms a little, trying to feel them out. They’re still stiff, and as they move, a jolt of pain shoots through him. Even when he’s not moving, his shoulder is still sore. He knows that he might get injured going into the field like this and that it’s not a smart decision – last time he went into the field while still healing, he wound up blowing his secret identity to Blockbuster.

He decides that at least if he’s going into the field, he won’t tell Barbara and Alfred about it. Okay, so that’s probably not the smartest of his plans. Most plans that you have to hide from people who care about you aren't smart.

“I’ll take a week long break with you,” Dick concedes. “And we can see how fast you’re healing.” The second part is a lie, of course. He's not going to supersede Alfred's orders on medical matters.

Dick sighs a little. He figures that while they’re both on bed-rest duty, though, he can try to figure out how to set things up so they can operate effectively once they get a clean bill of health.

“How do you feel about not living in the manor?” Dick asks.

“Kicking me out already?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I wouldn’t be living here either,” Dick says. It’s true. He’d rather not feel like he’s living in all of Bruce’s old places, wearing Bruce’s old costume, … replacing him, essentially. He needs a place he can clear his head.

“Where would you live then?” Damian asks skeptically.

Dick shrugs. “The penthouse, maybe. Bruce already made a bunker nearby, so we could operate out of there pretty easily.”

Damian narrows his eyes. “Why do you keep saying ‘we’?”

Because you are ten and not ready to live on your own. But Dick just says, “Well, you’re Robin now, right? That means you’re pretty much obligated to team up with Batman.”

“Batman isn’t here, Grayson. He never will be again, no matter how much you play dress-up.”

Charming kid. Like Dick didn’t already know that.

“You know I operate effectively alone, right?” Damian continues. “I don’t need to be hand-held and babysat like all of Father’s previous partners.”

Dick figures that it’d be a jerk move to remind Damian he just almost died and therefore really shouldn’t be on his own. Instead, he says, “Well, Alfred’s staying with me, so unless you want to get all your food and clean the house by yourself, you have to put up with me.”

“Tt . I don’t need a servant. I’ll just eat at restaurants.”

“On who’s money?”

“In the event of his death, my father’s assets should have transferred to me. His blood son.”

Oh boy. Dick rubs his face. “Does this have to be a thing, Damian? No one’s doubting your capacity to take care of yourself but I think it’d really be easier if we were operating out of the same building. “

A long silence on Damian’s part. “Fine,” he says eventually. “I’ll allow you to stay at my penthouse.”

My penthouse. Of course. But Dick takes it. “All right,” he says. “Let’s move in.”

#idk even #to my followers #my fanfic #dc comics #dc fanfic #tim drake #damian wayne #dick grayson

16 notes · View notes

theheartsmistakes · 4 years ago

Text

The Last Night Part XXIV

Parts I-XXII:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

Part XIX

Part XX

Part XXI

Part XXII

Part XXIII

XXIV.

(Author’s Notes: I noticed a slight mistake in my last post. Thomas would be Lucie’s second cousin, not first cousin, because he’s the cousin of her cousin. They are not in fact related at all, only Anna and Christopher would be related to Lucie, James, and Thomas. Ugh, it’s all very confusing. Anyway, Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays! I hope whatever you and your family celebrates, it was wonderful and special. Thank you for being patient for this update. Next update is coming Jan 3.)

James pushed their horse and carriage through the streets at a blinding speed, taking corners on two wheels at times that had Cordelia gripping the sides of the carriage and bracing herself at the velocity; filled with too much concern for Lucie that fear for herself could not fit. Once Magnus had successfully removed the block on her memories, a flood of terrifying images filled her mind.

The demon that had attacked their carriage.

Alastair bleeding on the brick pavement.

Lucie running towards her through a cloud of orange sand and Belial greeting her with a malicious grin.

Lucie could see ghosts. No, not only see them. She could command them. Conjure them. And he wanted to use that ability to command an ultimately unbeatable army.

James took a turn up on the sidewalk, nearly removing a postal box in the process. Luck be it, Magnus glamoured the carriage so that as they flew by and around the crowds of people moving through the congested streets of London, all the pedestrians felt was a harsh gust of wind that gently scooted them out of the way or immediately stopping them so that James could maneuver around in time. When James had begged him to come along, Magnus insisted that he needed to find James’s parents and tell them of Belial’s interest in their youngest child. It was imperative that they find Lucie and bring her back to Magnus’s cottage where he could form guards around her.

Somehow Cordelia knew that if Belial wanted access to her, he would find it. For he had somehow found Cordelia in the middle of London and held her life and her brother’s in his hands.

Alastair. The warmth evaporated from Cordelia’s face as she reached for James’s wrist to look at his watch. She cursed when she found that it was already thirty minutes past three. Alastair would be on his way to look for her now. This would not help James’s standing with him, but she didn’t have enough time to concern herself with her brother at the moment. She’d deal with him once Lucie was safe.

James had barely brought their horse to a slow trot before he jumped from the driver’s seat of the carriage at the front of his Aunt Cecily’s manner.

He ran around the carriage to assist Cordelia, but she was already on the ground and ahead of him.

The garden door was open. There was a chill in the air that was usually absent in the presence of Cecily Lightwood’s quaint cottage. It felt as if it’d been cloaked in darkness- the way she felt when she’d been dragged to the shadow realm by Belial. She wouldn’t allow herself to think of it. Perhaps it was just fear for Lucie that she was allowing her worst thoughts to enter her mind.

James stayed beside her, taking the stair two at a time in a way her skirts wouldn’t allow her. She heard a terrible rip and suddenly her legs had more room to stretch. She didn’t slow or care even as her hair spilled from the delicate coronet her maid had done her hair in as she kept pace with James.

They barreled down the hallway just as two figures stepped out from the room at the end of the hallway.

“Thomas!” James yelled as he skid to a stop. Cordelia behind him reached out for the figure beside Thomas.

“Alastair!” She screeched, nearly colliding with him when she noticed a dark patch across the front of his shirt. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” said Alastair and glanced between her and James. “I was, but I’m not anymore.”

“What happened?” asked Cordelia as James pushed his way past Thomas into the bedroom. “Where is Lucie?”

Thomas and Alastair looked between each other and before either one of them could say a word, Cordelia felt the warmth drain from her body. “No.”

“He was going to kill Alastair,” said Thomas, shame filled his voice. “She gave me no other choice. She nearly broke my nose escaping.”

“He has her?” asked Cordelia as she moved past them into the bedroom to see for herself.

James stood in the center of the room staring wildly at Grace and a boy, no older than the rest of them, kneeling on the ground besides Tatiana Blackthorn. Cordelia’s hand went to her mouth as she realized the woman was dead.

“What did you do?” James demanded of Grace who hunched over her dead mother. “What did you do!?”

“Don’t speak to her in that way,” said the boy.

“Who are you?” asked Cordelia, coming beside James.

The boy slowly rose to his feet. He stood nearly as tall as James, with dark hair and eyes the most beautiful shade of green. “My name is Jesse. Jesse Blackthorn.”

“Impossible,” said Alastair with a hand still clutching his chest. “Jesse Blackthorn died a long time ago.”

Grace sobbed into her mother’s corset. “Yes,” said Jesse, “I was— I was brought back through a bargain my mother had with Belial. An exchange of sorts. My mother thought she was only bringing him the items he needed to resurrect me, and she was so desperate to achieve it she never suspecte what she was actually doing was collecting exactly what Belial needed to create himself a temporary physical form. It didn’t last long, just long enough for him to take Lucy and leave.”

“Why bring you back to life then?” asked Alastair. “If he got what he wanted then why bring you back?”

“To keep Lucie compliant, I suppose,” said Jesse.

“Why would you keep Lucie compliant?” asked James, tightening his grip on a knife Cordelia hadn’t seen him draw. “Did you have something to do with this? Were you working with Belial too?”

“No,” said Jesse. “No, I was trying to protect her. She— she was the only one that could see me; could talk to me.”

“And you took advantage of that,” said Alastair.

“No,” insisted Jesse. “We formed a friendship. We helped each other. I saved your life James, I gave away my last breath after the first attack with Belial, and because of that Lucie made it her mission to bring me back to life. I didn’t realize until it was too late that she had formed an alliance with my sister who was under the control of my mother and Belial.”

James looked down at Grace.“Do you know where he’s gone?”

“There is no getting to him,” said Jesse.

“I’m not asking you,” whispered James in a way that sent a chill down Cordelia’s spine and fear that if he were to ever use that tone on her, even she might cower. “Where can I find him?”

Cordelia felt as if she might faint. She took several steps backward until her back hit the wall.

“I don’t know,” shuttered Grace, still clutching her mother’s mink coat.

James stood straight and dragged his hands through his hair until tuffs of it were sticking out from between his fingers. He turned to Thomas and the two began whispering to one another in low voices. Cordelia felt Alastair come to stand beside her, but couldn’t bring herself to acknowledge him. The memories of him lying on the brick ground bleeding were too fresh in her mind, confusing the way that she felt about him when she left the Institute earlier that day. She’d been so angry with him; she hadn’t known that they were moments away from losing each other.

She couldn’t think about that now. There’d be time for forgiveness later, for now, she needed to help find her friend.

Grace pressed her mother’s hand against her cheek. Her tears poured over her mother’s rings, one on nearly every finger. A memory flashed before Cordelia’s mind of Belial twisting a ring around his finger while he spoke to her. A thick, silver one on his boney thumb.

“Grace,” said Cordelia, pushing herself away from the wall and stepped towards the mourning girl who looked so much like a child curled up on the floor. She dropped onto her knees and brushed Grace’s lovely soft curls that she’d once envied away from her face. “I am so terribly sorry for the loss you’ve suffered.” Grace closed her eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “I cannot pretend to imagine how you feel, nor will I, and I want you to know that no one blames you.”

She heard a scoff over her shoulder.

“They’re going to blame her,” said Grace. “She was just trying to save me and my brother. She didn’t want to be alone, and they’re all going to vilify her for it— and me.”

Cordelia understood all too well wearing the sins of one’s parents. Her father tainted their family name long ago. A stain that she’d have to shoulder and battle everyday.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” said Cordelia patting her gently on her back. “Your mother trusted you over everyone else. Did she ever tell you how she conversed with Belial? There had to be some way that she contacted him or he contacted her and if you can help us learn this information and save Lucie, perhaps we can restore some honor back to your mother. Perhaps she can leave this earth having saved your brother and helped to defeat Belial.”

The room grew quiet around her and Grace sniffled. “She never told me directly.” Cordelia held her breath and Grace lowered her mother’s hand and held index finger. “One day, I saw her playing with this ring and thought it peculiar because I’d never seen it on her hand before nor have I ever noticed her playing with it. She dismissed herself from the room and went to her study. I heard her talking rather loudly with someone inside, but when I tried to open the door it was locked. When I mentioned it later, she suggested that I must have been hearing things, but I know that I heard a voice with hers. A male voice. The kind of voice that you do not forget.”

They all stared down at the ring on Tatiana’s finger; everyone too fearful to touch it.

Thomas was the first to speak. “Should one of us put it on?”

“No,” said Alastair. “No one touch it. We should wrap it up and bring it to the adults.”

“We don’t have time for that,” said James and reached for the ring, but Cordelia slapped his hand away.

“Alastair is right,” said Cordelia. “We don’t know what this ring could do if one of us puts it on. It could kill us or something worse.”

“But Lucie,” insisted James.

“Lucie would not be much better if the ring kills one of us and our one chance of finding her is ruined,” said Cordelia as she ripped a piece of her skirt and used it to carefully remove the ring from Tatiana’s stiffening finger. “We’re taking it to Magnus and we’re going to pray he knows what to do with it.”

#The Last Night #the last hours #chain of gold #chain of gold fanfic #jordelia fanfiction #james x cordelia #Lucie x Jesse

39 notes · View notes

starryknight09 · 4 years ago

Text

This is going to hurt

Febuwhump Day 16: broken bones

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

“Come on Spiderman.” Peter mumbled as he stood on the ledge of the building. Heights hadn’t scared him ever since he’d gotten his powers, but standing up here now, if felt different. Even though he was in his old Spiderman suit with his webshooters attached to his wrists, it all took on a completely different feeling now that he’d lost his powers. A month ago he’d gotten hit by some weird ray gun and ever since then his powers had remained dormant.

Tony kept trying to convince him they’d figure it out, and at first Peter had believed him, but now after a month of no progress, he was starting to lose hope. No matter how many times Tony had tried to tell him they just needed a little more time and Peter just needed to be patient, Peter couldn’t help but worry. What if they couldn’t figure it out? He couldn’t go back to being just Peter Parker. He couldn’t. Peter Parker was a loser. A nerdy nobody. He didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t be Spiderman.

Then this morning he’d had an idea. Tony was Ironman without any powers, so maybe he could still be Spiderman even without his powers. He wasn’t deluded. He knew he couldn’t go out and fight crime right now, but if he put in some crazy work and training, maybe someday he could get there. And maybe without his powers he could still swing. He just needed a little hope. And that’s why he was standing on top of a four story building staring down at the street. He’d been afraid to try any higher. Even this height made his heart pump with adrenaline.

“You can do this.” He tried to convince himself. “You can. You do this all the time. You’re Spiderman.”

He took a deep breath. In. Out.

“Ok. Time to jump.” He said but his feet stayed firmly planted on the roof.

He took another calming breath. “Ok. On three. One. Two. Three.”

His feet remained stuck.

“Stop being a chicken.” He mumbled, annoyed at his cowardice. “Jump. Come on. Do it. Do it. Do it!”

He jumped. The fall that used to invigorate him just sent terror through his veins. He fumbled with his webshooter for a moment before his fingers found the button, sending a web over to the opposite building. It tightened and for a second and he was flying, swinging like he always used to as Spiderman. He got to the peak of his arc and released his web. He was actually doing it!

Oh shit. He needed to shoot another web. His eyes searched frantically for the next best place to anchor it, but it was a lot harder without his super senses. As the space between himself and the ground rapidly decreased, h haphazardly shot a web out, hoping it would stick somewhere to stop his descent. It stuck. But he’d misjudged the placement of it, and instead of swinging into an open alley, he was headed straight toward the wall of the building.

Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit. This is going to hurt. Was all he had time to think before he slammed into the brick.

The absolute force of it rang through his entire body even into his teeth and made him lose his grip on the web. He floundered in midair before smacking into the concrete alleyway below, narrowly missing a dumpster.

He let out a whimper of a breath, his cheek pressed against the ground. Ouch. The understatement of the century. As Spiderman he could get hurt. The mutation didn’t make him invincible, but he didn’t realize until now that part of the mutation helped with his pain tolerance, because he couldn’t remember ever being in as much pain as Spiderman as he was in right now. And that was saying something because he’d been stabbed, concussed, shot, and broken bones before, and it’d never felt like this.

This was terrible all encompassing pain. He couldn’t even figure out where he hurt the most. Oh shit. He’d really messed up. Tears prickled in his eyes, but it hurt too much to cry so they just dripped silently out the corners.

He had no idea how long he laid there. Time lost all meaning as he focused solely on breathing through the agony. Breathe in. Out. In. Out. Eventually some semblance of rational thought returned. He didn’t know if the pain had gotten a tiny bit better or if he’d acclimated to the all consuming nature of it, but he finally had enough mental fortitude to start thinking about what he needed to do. As much as he wanted to lay there forever and not move, he knew he couldn’t. He needed help. He needed…his phone.

With the way he’d landed on his left side, his right arm was free with his hand resting mere inches from his pocket. One lucky break. He inched it into his pocket, scissoring his phone between two of his fingers, and pulled it out. There was no way he could lift it to his face, but he didn’t need to. He tapped the home button five times in rapid succession, the sequence Tony had programmed into it as an SOS call. Almost instantly he felt it start buzzing as Tony undoubtedly tried calling him. He didn’t answer. It stopped buzzing for a few seconds before it started up again. Tony was probably freaking out, and Peter hated that his worry wouldn’t be unfounded for once.

Peter let his eyes slide shut, not wanting to keep staring at the alley wall inches from his face. It wouldn’t be long now. Tony would be appropriately panicked out by now, which meant he’d take the suit, and since he lived in the city, having moved back with Morgan and Pepper after the Thanos thing, it should be only a few minutes until he arrived.

Even though he’d been expecting it, the clang of Ironman landing next to his crumpled form still surprised him. Usually he would’ve heard him coming from miles away. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to not having his super senses.

“Peter!” Tony’s fear seeped into his voice.

Peter groaned so the man would at least know he was conscious.

Tony knelt down next to him and Peter cracked his eyes open to catch the man’s hand hovering inches above his shoulder before abandoning the idea of touching him. “Shit kid. What were you—”

Tony stopped and frowned, obviously noticing that he had on his old Spiderman suit because the man gently pulled his mask off. A second later Peter could see it in his eyes. The exact moment Tony realized what must’ve happened. What Peter had been doing. Why he was wearing his old suit. The man’s eyes widened in shocked disbelief before he looked up, taking in how far Peter must’ve fallen.

“I’m sorry.” He rasped out.

“Don’t…don’t move kid.” Tony said instead of chewing him out like he’d expected.

He hummed in acknowledgement.

“FRIDAY scan him and call for an emergency medivac.”

Peter didn’t hear her response or the outcome of her scan, the AI probably feeding the information directly into Tony’s ear.

“It really hurts.” He mumbled. “It’s never hurt like this before.”

“I know but it’s going to be ok. Just hang in there. The med team will be here soon and we’ll get you back to the compound.” Tony tried to reassure him, but Peter could hear the anxiety in his tone.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, more tears sliding down his cheeks. “It was…it was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“It’s ok.” Tony comforted, lightly brushing the tears off his cheeks. “We’ll, uh, we’ll talk about it later. Just try to concentrate on something else.”

He tried to but thinking about anything besides the pain was near impossible. He whimpered.

“It’s all right.” Tony tried to soothe him. “Here. Squeeze my hand.” Tony put his hand in Peter’s and Peter gave it a light squeeze, surprised it didn’t make anything hurt worse, and it almost did help as something to focus on. Another wave of pain crashed over him and he gripped it harder, not having to worry about squeezing too hard because his super strength was gone. He let his entire world shrink down to holding Tony’s hand and concentrating on breathing as Tony continued to speak softly to him in reassurance.

When the medivac team finally arrived, Peter barely noticed them buzzing around him until they put a neck brace on him and rolled him onto a backboard. He scrunched his eyes closed and grit his teeth as they strapped him down. Man, that had hurt, and the new position left him feeling claustrophobic, especially when they placed an oxygen mask over his face. He frowned, not sure how else to show his displeasure. If he opened his mouth to try to say something, he worried he might scream.

Something poked him in his arm, barely noticeable in comparison to all the pain emitting from the rest of his body. A few seconds later he felt a burning sensation as they injected something into the IV they’d placed, and the pain receded almost instantaneously, his body slackening in relief.

“Better?” Tony asked, still hovering next to him.

Peter hummed his appreciation, eyes slipping closed. Now that the pain had stopped assaulting him, he was exhausted. He vaguely registered the medics lifting him and then they were moving toward something. Something annoyingly loud.

“Just a short helicopter ride and we’ll be at the compound.” Tony said and Peter realized all the noise was from the rotating blades of the helicopter as it waited in the middle of the street. That had to be all kinds of illegal. But he doubted Tony cared. Peter didn’t care either. Of all the things he’d done, he’d never actually ridden in a helicopter before. They loaded him in, Tony taking a seat right beside him and slipping his hand back in Peter’s as soon as they were settled.

Peter gave it a squeeze, determined to stay awake to experience the helicopter ride, but the painkillers pulled him down and he faded out before they even took off.

Awareness came. And went. Came back. And left again. Lapping at him like gentle waves. Until suddenly it was just there.

He opened his eyes and instantly recognized the medbay since he’d spent more than his fair share of time there. The lights were dimmed to their lowest setting so it must be nighttime. Peter took a moment to take stock of himself. He hurt, but in that detached way that signaled he was on some heavy duty painkillers. He glanced down at his legs. The right one was in a cast from his foot all the way up to his hip and propped up on a plethora of pillows. Peter wiggled his toes and let out a sigh of relief when they moved. Thank god. He continued to peruse the rest of his body. He laid shirtless so he could see all the angry bruises covering the entire left side of his chest. Ouch. His left arm was casted up to his armpit and in a sling, resting on its own pillow so it didn’t touch his bruised left side. He recognized the tickle in his nose as an oxygen cannula. Man. He’d really messed himself up.

Regret settled in and he closed his eyes with a sigh before opening them again a few seconds later. As he turned his head, looking for a clock, his eyes settled on a figure slumped in a chair next to his bed. Everything was blurry without his glasses, but he easily recognized the man without them. Tony. His mentor’s head was craned sideways, practically resting on his shoulder, fast asleep. Peter winced in sympathy. That position looked really uncomfortable.

“Hey.” He said, deciding to wake him up. Maybe if he saw Peter was awake and doing fine, he’d be ok with leaving to sleep in an actual bed.

Tony startled at the noise, straightening up and grabbing at his neck with a grimace before freezing when he noticed Peter was awake and watching him.

“Pete?” He whispered, leaning forward. “You awake?”

“Yeah.”

“How’s the pain?”

“It’s ok.” He didn’t know if that’d hold true if he tried moving, but as long as he laid still it was fine.

“Good.” Tony nodded as he searched the sheets for something. He found it and placed the plastic cylinder with a button on top in Peter’s hand. “If it starts to hurt you push this button, ok?”

He nodded, licking his lips, before asking, “How bad is it?”

Tony ran a hand through his hair and sat back in his chair with a sigh. “You’re going to live, but you broke six of your ribs on your left side, your left wrist, arm, and collarbone, and every bone in your right leg. They had to put a rod in it.”

“Ouch.” He mumbled.

“There was some internal bleeding too, but it stopped on its own, so you shouldn’t need surgery for it.”

Peter swallowed hard. “Sounds serious.”

“That’s an understatement.” Tony said, voice taking on a slightly angry edge. “Do you know how incredibly lucky you are?”

“Don’t really feel lucky.” He huffed. Oops. He hadn’t really meant to say that. It’d just slipped out. He was definitely on some good drugs.

“Well you are.” Tony shot him a disapproving look. “You’re going to be able to walk away from this when you just as easily could’ve died.”

He winced. “I’m sorry Tony.”

Tony let out a heavy sigh before asking almost desperately, “What were you thinking?”

Oh. So they were going to talk about it. He supposed that made sense, but he didn’t think the timing was exactly fair since he had a hard time censoring himself when he was high on painkillers. And Tony knew it.

“I just…” He fought the urge to fidget knowing it would probably hurt. “I just wanted to prove that I could still be Spiderman even without my powers.”

“Kid…” Peter hated how torn up Tony sounded.

“I know it was stupid.” He added, not wanting to face Tony’s pity. “I know. I guess I just thought if I could at least still swing around then maybe Spiderman wasn’t really gone for good. But obviously I can’t even do that…”

“Pete, how many times do I have to tell you Spiderman’s not gone? He’s just on a hiatus.” Tony said, voice softening.

“It’s been over a month.” Peter argued. “My powers aren’t coming back.”

“They will.” Tony said and Peter hated how certain he sounded when Peter felt anything but. “Your mutation is still there. Your powers are still there. We just need to get rid of whatever’s suppressing them, and Bruce is really close. He thinks he’ll have it figured out in the next week or so.”

“Really?” He asked tentatively, afraid to hope.

“Really.” Tony reached out to squeeze his good hand. “You just need to be patient a little longer, but you’ll be back to swinging in no time. Well, after you heal from all this. Hopefully we can get your powers back sooner rather than later so you don’t have to be laid up for too long.”

“Are you sure?” He still couldn’t believe it.

“Of course I’m sure. Would I lie to you about this?”

“No.” Peter knew he wouldn’t.

“Then trust me. We’re going to get you your powers back.”

Peter sighed in relief. “Thank god. You have no idea how scared I was that I was going to have to go back to being just stupid Peter Parker.”

“Hey.” Tony chastised, giving his hand another squeeze. “I think Peter Parker’s pretty great.”

“Not like Spiderman.”

“No, you’re right. He’s not.” Tony agreed and Peter’s heart fell for a second before Tony added, “He’s better.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up in a smile. “Thanks.”

“I’m not saying anything that isn’t true.” Tony shrugged. “Now, if I were you, I’d try to get some sleep because you’re going to need all your energy to explain yourself to your scary aunt tomorrow.”

He groaned. “She’s here? You told her?”

“Of course I told her. You jumped off a four story building and almost broke every bone in your body!”

Peter winced.

“She was here sitting with you until I sent her to bed a few hours ago.”

“She’s going to kill me.”

“Well she’s definitely not happy. She’s got a nice lecture all prepared. She practiced it on me. It’s a doozy.”

Peter groaned again.

“So, as I was saying,” Tony continued as he pulled the covers up to his shoulders, “you should rest up tonight because you’re going to need all your strength tomorrow.”

Tony wasn’t wrong, and Peter was tired. Their short conversation had sapped his energy. His eyes slipped closed for a second before he opened them again, remembering something. “Hey Tony?”

“Hm?” Tony looked up from where he’d already been typing away at something on his phone.

“You don’t have to stay. You can go sleep in your own bed if you want. I’ll be all right.” He told him before closing his eyes again.

Instead of walking out, Tony smoothed down his blankets and ran a hand over his hair. “I’m staying kid. Get some sleep.”

Peter had to work to keep the smile off his face as he did exactly that.

#febuwhump2021 #febuwhump #irondad

25 notes · View notes

nitannichionne · 4 years ago

Text

Luna IV, Chapter 13: The Tournament (A Cavill Syverson Fan Fic)

Chapter 13: The Tournament

CHAPTER 13: The Tournament

The marketplace was in excited upheaval. It had been for the last few weeks. The Luna Women’s competition was drawing close.

Any woman could participate, though single and claimed had their own tournaments. There were ten competitions: artisanship, cooking, cleaning, beauty, hand to hand combat, intelligence, archery, athleticism, gardening and riding.

You had never heard of it before, and for that alone, you are excited. You and Helena take your usual table and watch women and merchants haggling more than usual.

“You’re really into this!” Helena smiles at you.

“I know I can win the rough stuff,” you say excitedly. “Did you see those medals?”

“Yes, but there is some serious competition,” Helena warns softly. “The outlanders, the ones who live on the outside of the cities, their women are pretty rough, too.”

You sigh, “Hopefully my practicing will earn a place, at least.” You smile at Helena. “You’re a shoe-in for beauty, by the way.”

Helena smiles at that, chuckling as she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, with the little pouch here.” She raises an eyebrow. “You should try to enter it. You’re really exotic looking.”

You laugh out loud. “No, thanks!”

“Hi!” Gabrielle smiles, clutching sheets to her breast.

You smile. You honestly have never seen such change in a woman before. Gabrielle was still afraid of most men except Lysander, but she was no longer afraid to smile, look people in the eye. She simply was not the same woman she was three months ago.

“Where have you been?” you ask her.

“Lysander,” she says sheepishly. “I honestly don’t understand it. You’d think he’d be tired of me.”

“Are you?” Helena asks knowingly.

Gabrielle leaned forward and grinned girlishly. “No!” They all laughed at that. “What did I miss?”

“I chose my fabric,” You push swatches toward her.

“I brought my sketches for you two,” Gabrielle smiles. “Let me know what you think, okay? I’ll get some drinks…for you, too, Kane!” She scratches his ears and goes for refreshments.

You and Helena frown over the sketches.

“She is good, you know that?” you nod.

“I know. That’s why we’re going to enter our costumes into the artisan’s competition in Gabrielle’s name!” Helena whispers.

You gasp softly, “She’s in the gardening competition already. You’re going to put her in another?”

“She signed the sketches,” Helena taps the sheets. “See? All we have to do is wear the number on our costumes, that’s all.”

“She might be embarrassed.”

“And Lysander will be there for her,” Helena says with no remorse. “He’s even thinking about entering his outfit for that day. She finished it yesterday.” She pauses, changing the subject. “Are you sure you don’t want to try for the beauty competition?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Zenobia nods, rolling her eyes. “The archery and athleticism events are enough, thank you.”

“Hhmph,” Helena pouts. “I thought you were doing hand to hand.”

“Your brother said no, that’s why I’m doing athleticism instead.” You roll your eyes. “He really gets on my nerves sometimes.”

Helen arches her eyebrow, her smile disbelieving. “Yeah, right.”

*****

The Luna Women’s competition came on a beautiful but hot day. Colors were posted everywhere and merchants sold cool drinks and shade. There was public shade but it was crowded.

You are grateful to find that Sy has not only reserved shade for some of his people, but got you a two room private tent with a cooling system inside. You are relieved to see it as you complete the events of the athleticism competition.

“I saw you in the footrace,” Sy smiles, handing you a drink when you come inside the tent. “I had no idea you were so fast.”

You raise an eyebrow brow at him. “You never asked.”

“They should be doing archery soon,” he nods. “Anything you want to tell me about that?”

“I was one of the best on my father’s property,” you beam. “I trained with his archers, but not with arrows. I trained with bullet tips.”

“That man, rest his soul, gave you way too much advantage.”

“Ha!” You have become used to his little ribs, but most of the time, you just liked the way his mouth went a little lopsided when he did. “You’ll be there, won’t you?” You watch him sit as if trying to decide and you pounce on him. He laughs up at you as you grab his shirt front and shake him slightly. “You will be there, right?”

“I will be there,” he chuckles, grabbing your wrists and turning your bodies so that he was over you. He brings his lips down on yours, nibbling and teasing your mouth to open to him.

“Sy…” you sigh, and then scramble to your feet when she saw the look in his eyes. “Uh-uh, I need all my strength for today!”

“Before we leave, I will have you in this tent,” he assures, his smile completely suggestive.

Your stomach does flip-flops as you smile back. “Just not now.”

He lunges for you and you duck out, hearing his laughter. Ah, that man…

“It’s true, then!”

You turn to Gabrielle’s gasp. “What?” She looked down at the number. “Oh, you like?”

Gabrielle looks upset, to the point of tears. “I’m not that good!”

“Brielle.” Lysander calls softly, catching up to her. “I told her to.”

“But, but why?!” Gabrielle shakes her head as tears well up in her eyes.

“Because we know talent when we see it,” he nods. “I have been getting compliments on this outfit since we got here.” She opens her mouth to protest and he kisses her forehead, immediately quieting and calming her. “Trust me?”

She looked up at him, nodding. “Always, but--” She sighs as he kissed her soundly.

Lysander raises his head just in time to recognize the man coming toward them. “Oh, hey, Theron!”

Theron was all smiles and a bit excited. “Let’s go to the beauty competition,” he suggested. “Helena’s one of the finalists.”

“I can only stay a little while,” you say apologetically. “I have a few more things to do.”

“I thought the archery contest was at the end of the day,” Lysander frowns slightly.

“It is,” you nod. “But I have a few more athletic categories too.”

The group went to watch Helena compete. You can’t believe how pretty some of the women were, and how many boldly stared at Sy. It was as if you weren’t there. They smiled at Theron, but Helena was more than their equal in beauty. You look down at your form fitting halter and brown chaps with underlying shorts. You like the outfit; it hugs your curves and you can do just about anything in it, but these women floated across the floor.

Sy’s arms close around you. “What?”

“Hmmm?” you nod, picking at the beadwork on the arm braces Gabrielle made for you. “Nothing.”

He bends down and nuzzles your ear. “Come on.”

“Nothing.”

“And the winner is…Helena Cavanaugh!”

Helena was tearful as she accepted her crown with three silver moons on it. She smiled at the crowd, and then at her husband.

“I love you,” Theron mouths the words.

“I love you,” Helena mouths back, blowing him a kiss.

It slams into you. You want Sy’s love, and to keep it, more than anything. You kiss him on the cheek and leave to complete your competition.

The rest of the afternoon wears at your nerves. You place second in athletics because you truly didn’t climb walls a lot, nor did you swim. You are thankful that running and agility helped your scores. You hope to win the archery competition.

The archery competition is grueling. You get down to the finals, and it comes down to you and last year’s winner, Gloria Crieger. It comes down to one arrow at twice the distance than before. You shoot within the bullseye but Gloria shoots dead center, leaving you with second place again.

You swallow hard. You can’t believe you lost the archery competition. You’d never lost against a woman. Your pride is crippled. You stand stiffly as you are given the medal, and step off the stand as soon as she can. You see Sy come toward you, and you can’t look at him.

“Hey,” he lifts your chin so he can look at you. He looks surprised to find tears in your usually bright eyes. “Zen?” He pulls you into his embrace, sighing as your tears come. “Aw, sweetheart…”

“I’m sorry.” You sniff into his shirt, and manage to look at him. “I really tried, Sy. I wanted to make you proud! I wanted to bring glory to your house!”

Sy pulls you closer. He tilts your chin up and wipes your tears. “But sweetheart, I am proud of you. You lost to a woman who has won this competition for years. You just entered, and you placed second. Don’t cry, baby, don’t cry.” He rubs your back comfortingly.

“I don’t care!” How could you hope to keep him? You aren’t an exceptional beauty like Helena, or artistic and sweetly soft like Brielle. Your father once spoke of your mother’s warrior skills like she was unparallel to any other woman, that she was special. “I’m sorry, Sy. I really am. I’ll do—“

He laughs at you, and speaks to you as if you are a child. “I am proud of you—“ He rains kisses on your face as you begin to shake your head, not wanting pity. “No, no, listen to me.” He frames your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs. “I am proud of you, I am proud you are mine, with me.” He kisses you again, and holds you tightly, and you felt the tightness in your sobbing chest melt as you begin to snuggle under his chin. He rubs your back. “You’re such a silly girl sometimes, you know that?”

“Oh!” You realize you’ve made a spectacle of herself. Some people are actually watching you, but you were too upset to pay attention. You are mortified.

He laughs down at you. “What?” You snuggle closer to him, hiding to regain the rest of your composure. “Aw, just realized some people are watching?” He laughed louder, kissing the top of your head. “Look around.” He nudges your temple. “Go on, look around.”

You peek around his bicep. You see most people barely paying attention, but some smiled at you. Gabrielle is still marveling at her medal in the artisan’s competition as Lysander holds her. Then you see Gloria with her mate. There is no holding, no kissing, no congratulations from him. He collects her winnings, and gives her a small portion of it. Then he gives her the trophy with a pat on the back. She nods her thanks. He didn’t even hold her hand as they walked away from the crowds. You lock eyes with Gloria, and see the longing and loneliness of the woman. “Sy…”

“I know, I know. We won.”

You snuggle closer to him, taking a deep but shaky breath. “Yes. We won.”

@fckdeusername @maan24 @rn7rocks @kaatelyyynn @october505 @absentmindedreader @introvertedmouse

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #syverson #superaman #geralt

51 notes · View notes

neuro-whump · 5 years ago

Text

Lost In Transit, Part 3

This is my entry to the Box Boy Extended Universe which was originally created by @sweetwhumpandhellacomf and written by @shameless-whumper and I’m using a lot of world-building which was done by @ashintheairlikesnow. Still somewhat vague on hospital procedure here, only semi-deliberately.

CN: Dehumanization, human trafficking, mass casualty events (referenced), dehydration, amnesia, mistaken identity, box boy universe, vomiting, bed-wetting, IVs

Part 2

Kenna was already having a bad second unsupervised day of work ever when she left their nameless patient to run his blood to the labs, and and do all the things that her regular assigned patients in the neuro ward still needed even when there was a all-hands-on-deck, honest-to-god mass casualty event filling the ER and flowing out into the hallways, failed to get the charge nurse to find an empty bed, and finally to go back to the ER, which was still overflowing - but maybe, finally, was beginning to overflow less - and managed to look in on him for just a moment before rushing off to take care of all the tasks and people who were more urgent than the scared, disoriented kid huddled in a corner behind a hastily erected curtain.

He didn’t seem better, and she made a note in his chart like she’d been taught and meant to find Joey or Dr. de Courcy and ask about it but Joey was up to her elbows in a code and she couldn’t even find Dr. de Courcy before the next set of ambulances arrived and then she was pulled into a trauma bay with a medical resident and neither of them knew where the burn dressings were and by the time she had time to check on or talk to anyone she had blood spattered on her scrubs and their mystery patient was doubled over being violently sick.

No one else really seemed to have noticed. He was out of the way without a call button and, compared to the general hubbub, not making much noise. And sitting, terribly precariously on a gurney without the side rails up (she should have put those up, why did she forget to put those up). She went over to him and braced his shoulders so he wouldn’t tip off onto the floor. Finding a basin seemed like a waste of effort anyway, he was already a mess.

“I’ve got you,” she said to him, “I’m right here, just just let this happen. It’ll be over soon.”

“I need a hand,” she yelled, and she hoped her patient was too preoccupied to notice how squeaky her voice had come out.

One of the ER nurses - Dana, or was it Carla - stuck her head around the curtain.

“I need -“ Kenna started, then took a breath and tried to sound like a professional, “Joey and Dr. de Courcy assessed him earlier but he’s deteriorating, and de Courcy wants him admitted to neuro and I can’t find a bed.”

Dana-Carla nodded briskly and left again and Kenna, who went back to trying to comfort her patient.

He was still retching periodically, even though he didn’t seem to have much left to bring up, and sobbing pitifully.

“S-sorry,” he gasped, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” she said, “you just got a bit sick, is all.”

Really, he was more than a bit sick, and covered in vomit and dried-on salt and amber coloured urine. Why was he still so dehydrated?

“Is that why you’re upset?” she murmured to him, “because you had an accident? These things happen, no one’s mad, we’ll get you cleaned up right away. Just hang in there.”

She leant over to check his IV, but it was working fine. She opened it up wider anyway and hoped it would help.

“I’m sorry, I - ow,” he started again, and then shuddered and trailed off into a thin, pitiful whine and gagged again, curling up with his arms around his stomach.

Kenna stroked his shoulder a little bit, and tried to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do. He needed a bath, before the stomach acid started burning his skin, and clean bedding and a damn hospital gown because he was still naked under the soiled sheet, and she knew that and knew how to get all those things done in a real ER room, but to get any of those things right now, she’d have to leave her sobbing, disoriented patient unattended because she was actually standing in a corner of the waiting room with a curtain around it which hadn’t come up at any point in training because this whole day was insane.

Kenna was still standing around being an indecisive lump about what to do when Dr. de Courcy swept in. She’d been hoping for Joey.

“There’s an open bed now in 281,” she said, with no preamble, “don’t let them brush you off just because you’re new. When did this start?”

“Sorry,” Kenna sputtered, “um, he was about - that is, unchanged about an hour ago, and he was vomiting when I next saw him.” She could feel herself blushing, she felt like an idiot.

Dr. de Courcy looked them both over, and bent down to talk to their patient. He was already looking at her, he’d quieted and had his eyes fixed on her since she walked in.

“Do you remember swallowing anything before you arrived here 798591?” she asked.

He nodded miserably, with tears streaming out of his eyes.

“Can you tell me what it was?”

“There was some water,” he whispered, “and I thought I was supposed to.”

“And did that taste salty, or unpleasant?”

He nodded, “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I was bad, I’m sorry.”

“You’re just confused,” said Dr. de Courcy, soothingly, “I don’t think you’ve done yourself much serious damage, now, I need you to lie down so I can examine you, and then Kenna is going to take you upstairs and get you properly settled, and hopefully more comfortable.”

It was pretty clear that the last thing he wanted was to have someone press their hands into his obviously tender abdomen and Kenna wished she could stay and hold his hand through it, but he needed the be admitted properly and the ER needed the space and she could, occasionally, take a hint.

When she got back with a wheelchair he was sitting back up with his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach, still staring at Dr. de Courcy while she wrote out a prescription.

“You can give him an H2 antagonist for a few days, for any lingering gastritis,” she said, and handed Kenna the prescription, “I’m not changing Joanna’s prescription for the dehydration, it should work better when he doesn’t have a gut full of salt water and I’ve put in an order for repeat labs.”

Kenna looked at the orders and devoutly hoped she’d be off shift before it was time to redo the labs in the middle of the night.

Dr. de Courcy did help her get their patient into the chair, which Kenna appreciated, and then walked off without any indication of what she was planning to do with him other than store him in the neurology unit, which she did not.

The patient, who still didn’t have a name, Kenna supposed they should be calling him John Doe really, sat quietly and let Kenna dress him in a hospital gown and wrap the blanket he’d been brought in wearing around his shoulders so it wouldn’t get lost, and take him up to room 281 where the hospital gown was promptly tossed in the laundry and the blanket was tossed onto a chair until she could store it with the rest of the patient’s belongings.

“Alright, 79- um, oh boy I wish I knew your actual name, I’m going to give you a shower and get you your medication and then you’ll feel much better, sound good?”

He didn’t answer. He was crying quietly again.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, while she wound plastic around his IV port to keep it dry, “is the pain really bad? Can you tell me if its bad?”

He shook his head, which might have meant it wasn’t, and might have meant that he couldn’t tell her.

“Can you stand up,” she asked, “just until I get you into the shower.”

He nodded.

She got him into the shower and cleaned him off and tried to examine him properly and usefully, like a real nurse. She had definitely been taught how to do this without spattering herself with water, but she needed clean scrubs anyway.

Under the layer of salt and grime he was covered in superficial scrapes and bruises she tried her best not to put any more pressure on them than she had to. He’d obviously fallen forward at some point, there were a matched set of deep grazes on both his knees and the palms of his hands.

There was also a barcode tattooed onto his left wrist, with a tiny neat string of numbers underneath it 7-9-8-5-9-1.

It made a curl of anxiety form in her belly, which, in turn, made her feel a bit like a hysterical little girl.

She focused on talking him through the shower, and getting all the salt out of his hair, and coaxing him into rinsing his mouth out - he seemed uneasy about the mouthwash, which made her think he was still nauseated - and then drying him off and getting him into bed and a clean hospital gown. He was quiet through it, leaning on her a little while she transferred him into the bed, still staring at her with sad dark eyes like a fawn. He looked a little bit like a fawn actually, skinny and wide-eyed. The caramel coloured hair, currently dark from the shower, didn’t help. The thought caught in her head and jammed.

“I’m going to get you that medication now, alright,” she said, “I’ll be right back.”

“I don’t think she likes me,” he said suddenly.

“What’s that sweetie?” she asked.

“She’s going to send me back,” he whispered, his lower lip trembled, “I don’t want her to send me back, I don’t want to be r-refurbished.”

The curl in Kenna’s stomach curled a bit tighter. But she was the professional here. She comforted people while she was at work. People could comfort her when she was off the clock - whenever that actually was today.

“Do you mean Dr. de Courcy?” she asked.

He nodded. Two big tears dripped out of his eyes.

“Oh sweetheart,” she said, “No one’s going to send you anywhere. You’re safe. I promise you’re safe.”

More tears. She decided that, given it was late and they were both having a crappy day, that a few half-truths probably wouldn’t hurt anyone.

“Besides,” she continued, “I think Dr. de Courcy likes you just fine. We’re just having a bit of a crazy night, and she’s just sort of scary like that all the time, its just her personality. She scares me too.”

That seemed to work. He nodded and tried to give her a watery little smile. It wasn’t a very good attempt. But she patted his forearm and left to get the prescription, and bandages.

Fawn stared dubiously at the pills when she brought them back.

“I know,” she said, “I know you don’t feel like swallowing anything right now, but these are to help your stomach feel better.”

He took them with a vague look of hurt in her general direction but by the time she’d got him medicated, and settled into bed and dressed the worst of the cuts so he wasn’t bleeding onto the sheets he seemed calmer and better focused.

“What’s this, sweetheart?” she asked him, picking up his tattoo’d wrist.

He looked at it like he’d just noticed it was there.

“The identifying bar code means I can be returned if I am lost,” he said flatly.

Returned to who? Kenna wondered, but she didn’t ask, because she was afraid to hear the answer.

“Well, you’re safe here tonight,” she said, and smoothed the blankets down around him, “and the call button is right here,” she pointed, “so if you need anything at all, or if you’re feeling too unsteady to get to the bathroom and manage the IV pole you can just press on it, and someone will come and help you.”

He nodded, but Kenna had a weird feeling about it, so she said again, “you can press the call button for whatever, okay, even if you’re just afraid. Its okay, its allowed.”

Okay, so, possibly the night-shift staff were going to hate her, but she really wasn’t sure he believed her about the button, and he looked so pitiful.

While she was fussing over him, Joey walked in.

“Carla said there was an issue with the IV?” she asked.

“Oh,” said Kenna, “no, he wasn’t hydrating well, but it turns out he swallowed a bunch of salt water, we think, well, Dr. de Courcy thinks. Dr. de Courcy said the original IV should be fine, but I turned it up bit.”

Joey came over and checked the line, and then bent over to talk to Fawn.

“Feeling any better?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Got a name for us yet?” Joey asked.

Fawn shook his head, “Dr. de Courcy didn’t want to give me one.”

Joey grimaced. In fairness, Kenna also grimaced.

“Well,” she said, “I’ll ask her about that. Maybe she’ll come up with something.”

Fawn sat up and smiled at her, “really? Is she going to come back?”

“Sure,” said Joey, “ but she’s going to come see you sometime tomorrow and its late now, so you should just try and have a good sleep okay? Would you like Kenna to turn the light off for you?”

“Can it stay on?” Fawn asked in a whisper, lying back down and curling himself up around the pillow and shutting his eyes.

“Sure hon,” said Joey, and left.

Kenna wished him good night, which he didn’t respond to, and went to talk to Joey.

“Everything okay,” Joey asked her, when she caught up.

“I am,” she said, “freaking myself right out.”

“What’s up?” said Joey.

“Fawn - um - John Doe, has a barcode tattooed on his wrist with that number he answers to under it. And he insists he was inside a box and he doesn’t want to be sent back. And its just, way too much.” Kenna explained, all in one go so she couldn’t chicken out half way through, “today is insane. Today is just insane right? People don’t get shipped around in boxes. Right?”

Joey looked at her and just sighed.

“Today is, in fact, insane,” she said, “but I don’t think you are. You need to tell Dr. de Courcy.”

“What,” squeaked Kenna.

“She’s his attending physician,” Joey explained. “Besides, if there’s going to be, like, legal weirdness, we won’t have to wrangle any lawyers if she’s there to do it.”

Kenna gulped, “where do I—“ go tell the most intimidating person in the hospital my insane-sounding, and possibly straight-up insane theories?

“If she’s not still in the ER or in her office she’s probably gone back to lay down in her coffin,” said Joey.

“Why does everyone make that joke?” Kenna asked, “I think you’re the third person I’ve heard say she does that.”

“Oh you don’t—“ Joey started, “I’ll tell you later.”

Kenna found Dr. de Courcy in her office, so at least she didn’t have to make a spectacle of herself in the middle of the ER where people could see her.

“Kenna. Come in,” she said, before Kenna could ask.

“I’m worried about our John Doe,” Kenna started.

“Is he displaying new symptoms?” Dr. de Courcy interjected in the space of Kenna gathering her thoughts.

“No, — I mean —“ Kenna babbled, and then tried to sound professional, “the patient’s condition is unchanged, but some of the observations I’ve made —“ she gave up, it was too late, and she was too tired, and she was going to sound insane either way, “I think John Doe might actually have been, being, you know, um, shipped in a box?”

Dr. de Courcy looked up from her computer and stared at Kenna, “which observations?”

“He talked about being in a box,” said Kenna, “and when I spoke to him earlier he was really scared of being ‘sent back’, and I know he might just be delusional, but he is responding to a string of numbers he has tattooed onto his wrist instead of a name and - and I know I’ve been watching stupid videos on Youtube, and believe me I’m going to stop, but he’s got a really weird form of amnesia right?”

“He does,” Dr. de Courcy said, “and I will be interested to see how many of my residents are able to make the same observation. And while I do not have what could be reasonably described as an appreciation for your taste in media, I do agree. I’ll write the hospital legal department. How widely have you discussed this?”

“I talked to Joey,” said Kenna.

“That’s fine,” she said, “but please refrain from talking to anyone else until we’ve got either ironclad confirmation . I’d prefer the public outcry to be over facts, rather than speculation, if at all possible.”

“Yes Doctor,” said Kenna, which made her sound like a nurse in a starched cap from an old movie, but honestly Dr. de Courcy just had that effect on people, the more experienced nurses all did it to, and most of the doctors here went by their first names.

#lost in transit #whump #box boy universe

45 notes · View notes

whump-tr0pes · 5 years ago

Text

Honor bound 2 - 6

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound.

AO3

Cw: panic attack, human trafficking mention, death mention, blood

Pain in, pain out. Pain in, pain out. Gray moaned.

“They’re awake again. Someone go get Isaac.”

Their eyelids fluttered and their breath hitched in their chest. Pain in, pain out. They moved to reach for the pain and their arm stopped with a jerk. An icy stab of panic twisted their gut. That’s right. They tied me down. They were torturing me. Fine. Where’s Tori? They opened their mouth to beg for her.

“Gray, it’s alright. You’re safe.”

There she is. Their heart swelled with fear and relief. Is she here with me, being tortured? Did they hurt her? They squeezed their eyes shut against the pounding in their skull.

They felt that warm hand in theirs again and squeezed.

“There you go. Can you open your eyes for me?”

I’m trying. Their eyes fluttered open and they saw a blurry shape beside them. Many blurry shapes. They swallowed and wet their lips.

“T- Tori…”

“I’m here, Gray. I’m safe.”

Slowly, slowly, she came into focus, seated beside their…bed? They blinked and looked around the room, mind swirling with confusion. They couldn’t see the ceiling past the glare of the fluorescent lights above them. There were people packed into the room with them, blurs of people, shapes that seemed so familiar…

Their eyes returned to Tori and swept over her, taking her in. She’s alive. And… Their jaw tightened as they saw the marks on her. On her face, her arms. On her…on her neck. They tried to reach up to touch her, and again their hand was stopped by the restraint on their wrist. They swallowed hard.

“T-torturing…us?”

Tori’s eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

Gray glanced at their wrists, tied to the bed by their sides, and back up to her, at the marks on her neck. “Was he…torturing us?” Their chest throbbed with every word.

She pursed her lips in concern. “No…” She squeezed their hand. “Are you worried about the restraints?” They nodded. They watched as her eyes filled with tears. They wanted to reach out and brush them away, hug her close. “We had to restrain you, Gray. You were fighting us when you woke up from the anesthesia. You pulled out your IV.”

Their gaze drifted dizzily to their arm, where fluids were disappearing into their IV. “Oh.”

Her fingers went up to brush their forehead. “We can take them off, if you don’t pull at things.” She turned to someone… Finn, that’s Finn… They realized they were surrounded by people they knew… Vera. Isaac. Ellis. Sam. Finn. A smile pulled at their lips as they looked around. “Right? We can take them off?”

“Yeah. Of course.” They stepped closer to the bed and began untying the restraint from around Gray’s wrist. They had dark circles under their eyes and their face was lined with exhaustion.

“You…” Gray wrinkled their forehead as fractured images flashed through their mind. Lying on the floor of Tori’s darkened kitchen, bleeding out. Being carried to the car, leaving a trail of blood behind them. Finn, cutting into them, forcing something between their ribs, Finn… “You…saved…”

“No.” They bit off the word and pressed their lips together, eyes swimming with tears. “Don’t.”

The strap around their wrist came loose and they grasped Finn’s hand, gaze fixed on their face until their eyes slowly came up to meet theirs. “I remember. You saved me.”

A shudder ran over Finn’s body and they shut their eyes, squeezing their free hand into a fist. “I…I just…”

“What is it?”

They pressed their lips together and shook their head, sending a cascade of tears down their cheeks. “I’m sorry, I’m…just…” Their voice twisted into a sob. Ellis wrapped their arm around their waist and pressed a kiss against their shoulder. They buried their face in their hands, stifling another sob. “I’m sorry, god, I… I don’t want to make this about me. I’m sorry. I’m just feeling…a little…overwhelmed…” Their hand clutched at Ellis’s arm as their chest began to heave with shaky, gusting breaths. They stumbled back, leaning towards the door, fingers leaving marks on Ellis’s arm.

“No.”

They paused, eyes wide and fixed on Gray. They licked their lips. “G- Gray… I…”

“Please don’t go.” Gray’s fingers were locked around the sheets beneath them, trembling with strain. “Please…”

Finn’s eyes darted from Gray to the door as their legs shook under them. Tears were rolling down their cheeks, dripping from their chin with each stuttering breath. They swallowed the choking feeling in their throat and took a slow step towards Gray. Then another. They sat down carefully on the bed beside Gray, lips quivering, eyes flicking down to the tube coming from Gray’s chest, a real one, placed by the doctor during the surgery. They leaned forward, keeping their weight off Gray’s chest, bracing themselves against the bed as their arm wound around Gray’s neck. Gray raised their hand painfully to rest against Finn’s back.

“Thank you for saving me.”

Finn unraveled. They drew in a wheezing breath and wailed, pressing their face against Gray’s hair. Their hand found Gray’s and squeezed like they were a life raft in a storm. Tears fell onto the pillow as Gray cried, too.

“I’m so happy you’re alive.”

“I’m alive because of you.”

“I never, never want to hear you scream like that again.” Gray’s arm tightened on Finn’s waist as they squeezed their eyes shut. “I thought you were going to die. I thought I was…going to…”

“I know.”

Finn felt hands on their back and turned to see Ellis, tears running down their face too. Gray squeezed the back of Finn’s neck and trembled in their embrace. After a minute Finn leaned back, scrubbing their face with their sleeve. They took small hiccoughing sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok, Finn. There’s time to fall apart now.”

“Yeah.” They stood, taking a step back to make room for Sam. Isaac pressed close behind. Finn folded into Ellis’s arms.

Sam bent down and pressed a kiss into Gray’s forehead. They raised a hand to stroke through their curls.

Isaac looked like was holding back tears, too. His hand wrapped around theirs and held tight. Sam was glued to Isaac’s side, an arm around his waist.

Gray held Isaac’s gaze, the pain spiking for a moment, then easing. “You got us all here.” Their brow furrowed. “Where are we?”

Isaac bit his lip. “A hospital. In Beringer.” Gray was punished for their sharp intake of breath with a stab of pain. They winced. “I knew where to go.” He turned over his shoulder. “Because we had her.”

Gray looked up, eyebrows pulling together in confusion. As Isaac leaned back they could see someone standing behind him in the corner, arms wrapped around herself, cringing away from their gaze. “Who’s that?”

“This is Edrissa.” She shrunk at the mention of her name. “Rescue. We intercepted her as she was being…” He paused, blowing out a slow breath. “…sold.”

Gray’s eyes burned into her. She stared down at the floor, trembling. “Edrissa?” Her head jerked up. “You saved me. Thank you.” She jerked her chin back down at the floor. Gray shot Isaac a questioning look.

“She’s been in syndicate hands for two years. She’s been…um…” He bit his lip. “Shy.”

Gray nodded, understanding. Their gaze traveled back to Tori, seated at their other side, their hand still firmly holding hers. Her lips were pulled up into a smile. She squeezed their hand.

“I thought I lost you,” they whispered.

She shook her head, sending a tear rolling down her cheek. “And I thought I lost you. But…Vera…” She reached behind her to take her hand. “Vera came and got me.”

Their eyes moved up to meet Vera’s. Her eyes were dull with exhaustion and…fear? She was wearing a shirt Gray had never seen before and they could see a dark red stain, almost black, marring the front of her pants. Her chin and neck looked stained dark, flecks of dried red lingering above her collarbones and in the hollow of her throat. Her body was tense and guarded, in a way that made her look almost…feral. I’ve seen that look before.

They wet their lips. “Vera?”

She pressed in close to Tori to squeeze their hand. “I…I got her out, Gray.” Her shoulders loosened, just a little.

“How?” The word cracked.

“I…” She swallowed. “I killed him. Gavin’s father.”

“Gavin’s -”

“He’s the one who tortured me years ago. I killed him.”

Gray’s eyes went wide. “You what?”

Her lips pulled back in a fierce smile. “I killed him. He tried to take me again, and I killed him.”

Gray’s chest ached. “I promised you…” they whispered. “I promised you I’d never let him hurt you again.”

“Now he won’t.” Her voice growled through her chest. “Because he’s dead.”

Tori pressed a kiss into her hair. “Because she tore his throat out.” Her eyes glowed with a sort of delirious pride.

“You…what?”

Vera’s lip curled and her eyes darkened. “With my teeth.”

Gray’s mouth fell open. Vera shifted uncomfortably, the vicious satisfaction in her eyes congealing into a miserable sort of self-doubt. Her face fell a little.

“I…am so proud of you.”

Isaac grinned. “That’s what I said.” He laughed softly.

Vera’s face slid into a smile, her shoulders shaking with half-laughter, half-sobs. She pressed a hand to her mouth.

Gray squeezed her hand. “So he’s dead…where’s Gavin?”

“I shot him.” Again that fierce smile tugged at her lips.

“So he’s dead?”

She hesitated for the smallest instant. “Yes.”

Gray swallowed. “…are you sure?”

Slowly the smile slid from her face. “Pretty damn sure.”

“Did you check? He’s done this to us before. Are you…I’m sorry, Vera, but are you absolutely sure?”

“I shot him in the chest, Gray. Yes, I’m sure.”

“I was shot in the chest, and I survived, with way fewer resources. But definitely the best medic.” They threw a glance and a smile at Finn. They blushed bright red and turned their face against Ellis’s shoulder.

“Gray, I…” Her lips trembled. “I was focused on getting Tori out. I…I guess I wasn’t thinking straight…”

“Hey.” They shook her hand slightly. “Don’t do that. I’m not blaming you, Vera. Having someone’s throat torn out is one thing…you don’t survive that.”

“I watched the life leave his eyes.” Her voice was a low rasp. Her lip curled into a sneer.

Gray’s mouth pulled into an unconscious smile. “Getting shot in the chest is different. But…” They sought her eyes until she met their gaze. “You got our girl out. That’s the important thing.”

Vera pressed her lips against Tori’s shoulder. She smiled.

Gray turned their attention again on Tori. “But he…he tortured you first…”

Her face fell. “It’s nothing. It’s nothing compared to -”

“You were tortured.” Their tone left no room for argument. “There is no comparing.” They swallowed hard, their voice flattening. “What did he do?”

“He…” She bit her lip, tears threatening to fall. “He beat me. And he…um…” Her throat bobbed.

“He fucking collared her.” Vera’s voice was a low snarl.

Gray’s eyes fell shut. “Oh.” Their stomach lurched at the thought.

“But now he’s dead,” Tori whispered.

Gray nodded slowly. “What happens next?” Their gaze drifted to Isaac again.

Isaac huffed out a breath. “For now we stay here, at least until your chest tube comes out. After that you’ll be alright to travel as long as we take it easy.”

“When do we ever take it easy?” Gray asked sardonically.

Isaac nodded wearily. “I know. It’ll be a rough road. But once we leave here we’re going north. With her.” He turned to look at Edrissa. She withered under his gaze. “Once we get her settled…” He pressed his lips together. “I’m going back on the road. Now that we know the syndicates are buying and selling people we have a pretty obvious mission: I’m going to intercept the shipments and make a pipeline north. I’ve been talking with some of the people here who have a pretty good idea of the major trafficking areas and how people get transported.”

Gray nodded. “Makes sense.”

“I’m going with him.” Finn’s hands were in fists at their sides.

“So am I.” Ellis wound their fingers through Finn’s.

“I am, too.” Vera’s jaw clenched. “I know what they do to people they’ve captured. I have to help.”

“I’m going, too,” Sam piped up.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Isaac grumbled. They looked at him with wounded eyes.

Tori looked down at her lap. “I…I want to come north.” She wilted.

Vera put a hand on her face and tilted it up. “If you want to go north, that’s what you’re going to do.”

“I want to start a safehouse for people when they arrive so they have somewhere to stay until they get resettled. I know it’s not -”

“Please don’t say whatever it is you were going to say.” Vera pressed a kiss into her hair. “If you hadn’t had your safehouse and been willing to take us in, we’d all be dead. Dead months ago. You saved us. It’s enough. It’s more than enough.” She pulled Tori into her arms.

Gray turned their attention to Edrissa. “And what do you want?”

She looked around the room, as if expecting someone to hit her for daring to want. She lowered her eyes and stared at the floor. “I…I want to find my brother. Micah.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.” Her voice was a whisper. “He got shot when they…when they t-took me.”

“I told her we’ll help her find him,” Isaac murmured. “If he’s alive -” He flinched, throwing an apologetic look back at her. “We’ll find him. We’ll find someone who knows where he is and find him.”

Her lips trembled and a tear ran down her nose and onto the floor. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @blue-flare10, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @insomniacscoprio, @whumpy101, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word

#honor bound 2 #whump #hurt/comfort #team as family #hospitalization #gunshot wound #chest tube #hospital #blood tw #death mention tw #human trafficking mention tw #kind restraints #panic attack #my oc: Gray #my oc: Isaac

61 notes · View notes

chalantness · 6 years ago

Text

fic: Meet Me Under the Spotlight - part iv

Rating: PG-13 Word Count: ~4800 Characters: Steve/Natasha and the ensemble Summary: A continuation of that celebrity social media au no one asked for.

A/N: During my little "writing hiatus" in December, when I thought about which stories I really wanted to revisit, this was definitely at the top of my list. I had a lot of the "plot" for the 'Marvelous' show in this 'verse planned in my head while writing the previous installment, and I had a lot of fun finally sharing it with everyone in this piece! There's less cast interaction because I have such a focus on the plot of the show itself, but I still enjoyed the change of angle for this chapter.

Read On: [ ao3 ]

The Cast and Crew of ‘Marvelous’ Take to Instagram to Give Fans a First Look at Mid-Season Finale

January 1, 2018. 2:09 AM PST.

We’re all still a little bummed that we won’t be ringing in the New Year with the fourth episode of Marvelous Season 4 tonight like we were supposed. (Thanks, CW, for pushing back the schedule because you thought we would need a week to recover from our New Year’s shenanigans, but trust us: we Marvels would’ve happily been on our couches to watch that new episode, hungover or not.)

But at this point we should’ve known that something was up. Because in true Marvelous fashion, at the stroke of midnight, the official Marvelous Instagram gave us our first looks at the mid-season finale, which is scheduled to air two days before Valentine’s Day. And if that wasn’t reason enough to expect the mid-season finale to be one of the most romantic episodes yet, these surprise Instagram posts are all the proof we need!

SPOILER ALERT! The rest of this article contains screenshots of episode stills from the Marvelous mid-season finale, Episode 9, “Shot Through the Heart” taken from the official Marvelous Instagram profile.

[Image Caption: Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff sitting on the bed of a plain room in an unknown setting. Steve is braiding Natasha’s hair, now dyed blonde, the two of them smiling and talking close together as Natasha plays with the diamond ring on her finger.]

913,253 likes

MarvelousOfficial Redhead or blonde, Cap will always be smitten with Widow’s hair. Now that’s what we call love! #MarvelousSneakPeeks

View all 952 comments

JANUARY 1, 2018

[Image Caption: Wanda Maximoff in a grocery store setting, disguising herself in a beanie and sunglasses as she stands in between aisles. She’s looking off to the side, wary, with one hand over her stomach.]

841,451 likes

MarvelousOfficial Scarlet Witch just can’t catch a break, can she? #MarvelousSneakPeeks

View all 823 comments

JANUARY 1, 2018

[Image Caption: Thor Odinson sitting shirtless on a stool while Maria Hill stands behind him, cutting his hair, the two of them laughing over something.]

835,318 likes

MarvelousOfficial If you heard a sniffle, that’s us crying over the loss of those glorious blonde locks. #MarvelousSneakPeeks

View all 828 comments

JANUARY 1, 2018

[Image Caption: Sharon Carter, Pepper Potts, Tony Stark, and Sam Wilson in an unknown laboratory setting. Sam and Tony are standing at a table of equipment parts, watching as Sharon speaks to Pepper in front of a holographic monitor displaying schematics for the new Iron Man suit model Pepper is wearing.]

1,464,908 likes

MarvelousOfficial Looking good, Pepper ;) #MarvelousSneakPeeks

View all 1,538 comments

JANUARY 1, 2018

[Image Caption: Clint Barton in a café setting, wearing a disguise of a hoodie and sunglasses as he sits with the Mystery Agent, guest star Laura Barton. On the table between them is a photo which looks eerily similar to the farm setting from Hawkeye’s dream sequence in the Season 4 Premiere.]

804,189 likes

MarvelousOfficial Friend or foe? We’re not even sure if Hawkeye knows... #MarvelousSneakPeeks

View all 1,307 comments

JANUARY 1, 2018

[Image Caption: Pietro Maximoff and Bucky Barnes outside at night, huddled together and talking seriously on the porch of a cabin in an unknown mountain location. In Bucky’s hand is the ring Quicksilver had given to Scarlet Witch during Season 2 to help focus her control over her powers, which is shown with the gem broken in pieces.]

797,329 likes

MarvelousOfficial We sure hope that Scarlet Witch won’t be needing that anymore. #MarvelousSneakPeeks

View all 859 comments

JANUARY 1, 2018

[Image Caption: Peter Parker, T’challa T’chaka, and guest star Shuri T’chaka shooting on location, Peter and Shuri talking animatedly while gesturing to a device secured to Shuri’s wrist while T’challa watches with an amused smile.]

1,459,469 likes

MarvelousOfficial If you thought Wanda and Pietro Maximoff were the only real life siblings that get to play siblings on screen too, then think again! #MarvelousSneakPeeks

View all 1,836 comments

JANUARY 1, 2018

Just like every other seasoned Marvel, we were ready to theorize the hell out of these episode stills! And we still will. But don’t forget, we’ve got five whole episodes between now and the mid-season finale to account for.

Which episode still was most surprising for you? Let us know in the comments below!

Newest ‘Marvelous’ Star Daisy Johnson Gives Us the Scoop on Her Character’s Relationship with The Director

Wanda Maximoff and Newest ‘Marvelous’ Guest Star Shuri T’chaka Dish on Working with Siblings

WATCH: ‘Marvelous’ Behind-the-Scenes - Choreographing Black Widow and Spider-Man’s Training Room Spar Sequence

Marvelous @MarvelousCW - December 25 It’s the most #Marvelous time of the year, so we’re bringing back #MarvelousLiveTweets with the cast for tonight’s episode, 4x03 “Before Dawn”!

T’challa T’chaka @ttchalla - December 25 Next time, let’s not put the cat in a tree. I still have scars from those branches... #MarvelousLiveTweets [Video Attachment: 0:55 clip of Black Panther perched in a tree at night between the branches as an armored truck drives underneath, which Black Panther jumps onto, alerting the driver and passenger of his presence. The passenger hurries to shoot at him out of his window, but Black Panther’s suit ripples in purple light as the bullet bounces off, and he stalks up the truck.]

Pietro Maximoff @theothermaximoff - December 25 I’m not crying, you are #MarvelousLiveTweets [Video Attachment: 0:45 clip of Falcon driving the jeep into the Facility hanger with the rest of the Team waiting. Winter Soldier helps a battered Scarlet Witch out of the back seat, and Quicksilver speeds to their side, enveloping his sister in a hug that she instantly melts into, her body beginning to shake as she starts to cry. Winter Soldier swallows as he watches, feeling helpless.]

Natasha A. Romanoff @therussianprincessnat - December 25 Just tell him already!! #MarvelousLiveTweets [Video Attachment: 1:25 clip starting with a flashback from Season 2, with Captain and Black Widow driving through the country in a pick-up truck. Captain tells her to take her feet off of the dash, to which Widow teasingly replies that she didn’t realize manners applied to stolen cars, earning a laugh from the Captain. Widow continues to watch him as he keeps his eyes on the road, but then his smile grows soft as he glances at her, knowing she’s watching. She pulls her feet off of the dashboard and hugs her knees to her chest, smile widening as she looks out her own window. Then the flashback is cut off as, in present time, Captain calls Widow’s name in the kitchen and snaps her from her memory. He asks what she was thinking about, and she hesitates before saying she was wondering what she has to say to get him to make her dessert. It’s obvious he knows this isn’t entirely true, but he smiles and lets it slide.]

Thor Odinson @corethor - December 25 Sorry finding my powers almost killed you, but if it’s any consolation, losing them almost killed me too @littlewandamaximoff #MarvelousLiveTweets [Video Attachment: 1:05 clip of Agent Hill sitting at Scarlet Witch’s bedside with Thor standing beside them. Scarlet Witch tries to recount in as much detail as she can remember about her captor and what she saw in his laboratory, then looks at Thor, her eyes watering as she admits that she saw the device that stripped him of his powers. Thor and Agent Hill look at each other, recalling the incident where Agent Hill found him doubling over in pain in the training room, and neither look surprised when Scarlet Witch goes on to tell them about the device exploding in reaction to her powers and collapsing the entire structure. Guilty, she tells them that she hadn’t sensed its energy anywhere in the wreckage afterward, but Thor reassures Scarlet Witch that it’s not her fault, taking her hand and squeezing it gently.]

Clint Barton @cbarton - December 25 If you think my wife trying to kill me on screen is indicative of our off screen marriage.. you might be onto something #MarvelousLiveTweets [Video Attachment: 0:55 clip of a ballet studio with girls dancing to a routine of classical music. The Mystery Agent (guest star Laura Barton) from Hawkeye’s dream sequence stands in the corner watching them as a woman’s voice off-screen comments how beautiful their potential is, how each of them is a clean slate. But no one’s mind has been quite as malleable as hers, to which the Mystery Agent turns to face the speaker, revealing her as an unknown blonde woman in a black catsuit similar to the one the Mystery Agent wears. She then announces that “they’re ready for us”, and the Mystery Agent takes one last moment to watch the girls before following the blonde woman out of the room.]

Steve Rogers @stevefrombrooklyn - December 25 If this was an obligatory holiday episode, I would’ve fought for a mistletoe kiss right here #MarvelousLiveTweets [Video Attachment: 1:45 clip of Captain in the training room, rapidly beating into a punching bag, unaware of Black Widow walking over to him with a wary expression. His hits quickly grow harder and more violent, until Widow braces her hands against the bag, giving him resistance that snaps him from his trance. His fist slackens, lingering on the bag as the beginnings of a smile form on his lips, before he blinks and glances away. When she asks him what he’s thinking about, he hesitates, then admits that she always had a knack for sneaking up on him, referring to her habit of doing so before she lost her memories. Then he meets her gaze with a real smile this time, small but still there, and says that he’s glad that at least some things haven’t changed. Widow holds his gaze for a moment, then Captain gently turns her by her shoulders so that she’s standing in front of him, facing the punching bag, and tells her to show him what else she might remember, and she smiles widely as she starts punching the bag with swift hits.]

WATCH: ‘Marvelous’ Sneak Peek #1 - 4x04 “Simple Lives” - Scene: Captain and Iron Man in the training room

Marvelous CW - Published on December 25, 2017 - 984,203 views

Access Entertainment! Exclusive: Newlyweds Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff Dish on Surprise Wedding

December 30, 2017. 9:58 AM PST.

The confetti and champagne had only just started to settle from our celebration over their engagement, but it seemed like Marvelous co-stars Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff weren’t done making us swoon! As everyone was busy tearing into festive wrapping paper and jolly stacks of pancakes on Christmas morning, the cast and crew of Marvelous were online, posting picture after picture of Rogers and Romanoff’s surprise wedding ceremony on the Santorini Coast - taking place only a month after Rogers proposed!

“It’s been three years in the making, so why wait?” Rogers had joked when he and Romanoff called into the Access Entertainment! studio for an exclusive phone interview this morning to serve us all the juicy details. “It’s no secret that I’m impulsive, I know what I want and I go for it, you know? But even before she said yes, even before I bought the ring, we knew there was no waiting for either of us. When it’s right, it’s right.”

Did they know they were getting married when they hopped on that plane at the start of the mid-season filming hiatus? “More or less,” Romanoff laughed. “There wasn’t any announcement or anything, but I went to Jane [Foster, head of costume design for Marvelous] and asked her how realistic was it for her to pull dresses for me without this public mayhem coming about, and then by lunch everyone knew. They were the ones to choose Greece, actually.”

We’re guessing everyone was more than happy to follow? “Of course,” Rogers shared. “If we even attempted to elope, they would’ve ambushed us. But that was always the plan. We talked about it for filming, actually, when Nick [Fury, writer/producer of Marvelous] for Cap and Widow’s wedding in the show - we based it off of them but also a little what we wanted for me and Nat in terms of intimacy and having it outside in some destination place. So having everyone with us like that was always going to be the plan.”

So where are the lovebirds now? “Not in Greece anymore, so sorry if you were already on your way,” Romanoff teases. “We flew in, spent a few days with everyone sight-seeing and eating everything after the wedding, and now we’re somewhere quiet and cozy. We’re soaking up the sun now before we come back and hit the ground running to finish up [filming Marvelous] Season 4.”

Now if only Captain and Widow can turn their “dream” wedding into a real one this season, then our lives would be complete!

“Well, we know he [Captain] gets a ring on her finger, so who knows,” Rogers laughed, referencing the stir caused when Rogers and Romanoff were spotted filming on location at a Toronto shopping mall back in October. Romanoff was spotted wearing an impressive diamond ring on her left hand, and when asked by fans if the ring had to do with the show, Romanoff responded with a coy and cryptic “What do you think?” that we Marvels have spent far too much time wondering about.

Well, until we get a real Captain and Widow wedding, we have plenty to swoon over for Rogers and Romanoff’s ceremony!

What did you think of their beautiful Santorini wedding? Let us know in the comments below!

Here’s Every Photo from the Cast and Crew of ‘Marvelous’ at the Rogers-Romanoff Wedding

‘Marvelous’ Then vs. Now: From First Appearances to Mid-Season Finale Transformations

Most Anticipated ‘Marvelous’ Guest Stars Returning to Season 4

Marvelous @MarvelousCW - January 5 Only 3 days away! #MarvelousSneakPeeks #MarvelousScripttoScreen 404 “Simple Lives” written by @nickfurry ft. @iambuckybarnes @littlewandamaximoff [Image Caption: Screenshot of a script that reads:

INT. FACILITY - SCARLET WITCH ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Scarlet Witch turns her palms upward, watching the red wisps spiral out from her fingertips as the overlapping whispers in her head grow louder. Her mind is bombarded by flashes, nonsensical and overwhelming, and she slowly starts to spiral, the walls closing in on her, her powers humming louder as if about to explode out from inside of her...

WINTER SOLDIER (O.S.) Scarlet?

Scarlet Witch startles when she feels someone touch her, gasping as another memory slams into her - clear and crisp this time, she watches through Winter Soldier’s eyes as his hand just barely misses the Captain’s and he begins to fall, as if being sucked into the snowy blizzard swirling around him. Scarlet Witch is engulfed in his fear, nearly drowning in it - but a rough shake of her shoulders snaps her from the empathetic link, and she realizes she’s on her knees and so is Winter Soldier, his grip on her arms the only thing keeping her upright. He looks visibly shaken, but still in a better state than she is.

WINTER SOLDIER How long?

Scarlet Witch begins to deny, but Winter Soldier doesn’t give her a chance.

WINTER SOLDIER (worried for the answer, but insistent on hearing it) How long has it been this bad?

SCARLET WITCH I’m fine.

WINTER SOLDIER I felt what you felt, and that wasn’t fine. (softer this time, pleading) How long?

Scarlet Witch melts into his embrace, exhausted and entirely defeated, and Winter Soldier holds her like he’s terrified she’s about to break.

SCARLET WITCH Since the lab... They did something to me. They broke something in me and I’m... I’m terrified.

Marvelous @MarvelousCW - January 5 Okay, just ONE more... #MarvelousSneakPeeks #MarvelousScripttoScreen 404 “Simple Lives” written by @nickfurry ft. @stevefrombrooklyn @iambuckybarnes [Image Caption: Screenshot of a script that reads:

INT. FACILITY

Cut to Winter Soldier and Captain in the kitchen, sitting at the island with two cold mugs of tea in front of them, untouched. Both are hunched over in their chairs across from each other, pensive and feeling out of their depths.

WINTER SOLDIER All I can do is just watch her suffer. I couldn’t save her from becoming a science experiment in that lab, can’t save her from her own head...

CAPTAIN That makes two of us.

WINTER SOLDIER What a couple of sad sacks we are. At least Widow seems to be coming around. (back-pedaling, realizing what he’s said) Not that that’s better than losing her memories to begin with...

CAPTAIN No, you’re right. It’s still an improvement. I’m getting parts of her back.

Despite the somber conversation, Winter Soldier gives the Captain a knowing look.

WINTER SOLDIER ‘You’ are? It’s like that now?

CAPTAIN It’s always been. Just took a while to realize it.

Winter Soldier nods, his amusement softening into genuine happiness that Captain has finally caught onto the big picture.

WINTER SOLDIER About damn time.

[Image Caption: Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, and Sharon Carter photographed sitting together in their set chairs in full costume. Wanda’s brunette hair is now dyed a fiery light red, Natasha’s red hair is still dyed blonde - as was previously revealed on her guest appearance on The Late Night Show in early December - and Sharon’s blonde hair has been darkened to golden brown.]

967,200 likes

littlewandamaximoff A brunette becomes a redhead, a redhead becomes a blonde, and a blonde becomes a brunette... We’re a little mixed up, but still oh so glad to be back on set for #Marvelous Season 4B! @nataliaromanov @carters13

View all 1,313 comments

JANUARY 7, 2018

[Image Caption: Steve Rogers and Thor Odinson posing together with their arms crossed as they stare each other down. Steve’s once clean-shaven face now has the beginnings of a beard, and his hair has grown out a little more. Thor’s long hair has been cut short - as was previously speculated in glimpses of photos from Rogers and Romanoff’s wedding posted to Instagram in late December, then confirmed when episode stills from the mid-season finale were released to reveal a scene of Maria Hill cutting Thor’s hair.]

900,349 likes

thorodinson Spoiler alert: the season finale will be a battle of our beards. (Another spoiler alert: I crush @stevenrogers into the ground.)

View all 1,034 comments

JANUARY 7, 2018

[Image Caption: Clint Barton, Tony Stark, and Pepper Potts on the Facility control room set. Clint is decked in a new version on his stealth suit, his hair now shaved on the sides and cropped short on top; Pepper wears a new Iron Man suit model, holding the helmet in her hands; and Tony stands in between them, posing with an exaggerated frown on his face.]

931,680 likes

thetonystark Am I the only one that doesn’t get a dramatic transformation this season?? @cbarton @pepperpotts

View all 1,743 comments

JANUARY 7, 2018

[Image Caption: Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff sitting at a table at craft services, with Natasha laughing as she sits in Steve’s lap and Steve smiling up at her as he plays with a chunk of her blonde hair.]

MarvelousOfficial Don’t worry Steve, we miss the red, too! @stevenrogers @nataliaromanov #Marvelous #MarvelousSneakPeeks

WATCH: Newlywed ‘Marvelous’ Co-Stars Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff are Cozier Than Ever as Season 4 Resumes Filming

AE! News - Published on January 8, 2018 - 905,258 views

A ‘Marvelous’ Way to Get Psyched for the New Year!

December 28, 2017. 10:14 AM PST.

Marvels everywhere were a little (okay, a lot) disappointed when the CW announced they would be pushing back their airing schedule to skip over New Year’s week, meaning that we would wait an extra week between Marvelous Season 4, Episode 3 “Before Dawn” and Episode 4 “Simple Lives”, which would have premiered on New Year’s Day if the network followed its regular airing schedule.

But of course the team at Marvelous knew the perfect way to make it up to us. Not only did they release the official episode synopses for the remaining lineup of Season 4A this morning, but they also announced that the network would be officially renewing Marvelous for a fifth season!

We never doubted it for a second, but there’s nothing quite like the sweet sigh of relief when you hear the word “renewed”!

(Screenshots taken from the official Marvelous Twitter account.)

Marvelous @MarvelousCW - December 28 It’s official, Marvels! Our favorite heroes will be BACK for Season 5!!! #Marvelous

Marvelous @MarvelousCW - December 28 Marvelous Retweeted: Margaret E. Carter @mspeggycarter Yes, you heard right: #Marvelous is officially renewed, and my director’s chair will be right next to @nickfurry all season long!

Marvelous @MarvelousCW - December 28 Marvelous Retweeted: Tony Stark @thetonystark What’s better than Season 5? Season 5 with @twopeasinpott and @jamesrhodesisland as SERIES REGULARS. Finally! #Marvelous

Marvelous @MarvelousCW - December 28 Marvelous Retweeted: Wanda Maximoff @littlewandamaximoff Season 5, here we come!!! So blessed and psyched to have another year working with my favorite people on the planet!! #Marvelous

Marvelous @MarvelousCW - December 28 Marvelous Retweeted: Steve Rogers @stevefrombrooklyn This show has brought me some of the best moments of my life, and also brought me the love of my life @therussianprincessnat - can’t wait to see what this next chapter brings us! #Marvelous

Now that you’re all properly hyped, here’s our official episode guide for the remaining lineup of Marvelous Season 4A:

SIMPLE LIVES - Season 4, Episode 4

Captain (Steve Rogers) and Iron Man (Tony Stark) struggle to reach an agreement when Iron Man suggests that they use Hawkeye’s (Clint Barton) stolen designs to engineer more weapons, which leads to Black Panther (T’challa T’chaka) and Spider-Man (Peter Parker) intervening. Meanwhile, Scarlet Witch (Wanda Maximoff) turns to the Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes) as her grip on her powers grows more unstable, and Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff) tries to test her skills by undergoing training with Agent Hill (Maria Hill), Agent 13 (Sharon Carter), and the Director (writer/producer, guest star Nick Fury).

Air Date: January 8, 2018

MIND GAMES - Season 4, Episode 5

While Quicksilver (Pietro Maximoff) and Iron Man (Tony Stark) are performing tests on Scarlet Witch (Wanda Maximoff) in an attempt to cure her of the effects suffered from experimentation, a fluctuation of her powers affects several members of the Team caught in its current. Trapped within alternate realities inside their own heads, Thor (Thor Odinson) rejoices having his powers back as a mythological king with his brother Loki (guest star Loki Laufeyson), father Odin (guest star Odin Borson), and mother Frigga (guest star Frigga Asgard) still alive and by his side, though at a grave cost; Captain (Steve Rogers) is thrown back in time to a quiet civilian life where he and Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff) share a son, though the appearance Crossbones (guest star Brock Rumlow) takes a turn for the worst; Black Panther (T’challa T’chaka) governs a peaceful utopian city, until a ghost from his past (guest star Erik Killmonger) threatens to destroy it; and Iron Man enjoys an extravagant lifestyle with Rescue (guest star Pepper Potts) at his side, but he quickly discovers that the absence of War Machine (guest star James Rhodes) has terrifying implications.

Air Date: January 15, 2018

WIDOW’S BITE - Season 4, Episode 6

After discovering a possible way to lure out the Mystery Agent (guest star Laura Barton) that left Iron Man (Tony Stark) for dead and appeared to Hawkeye (Clint Barton) in his dreams, Hawkeye recruits Agent 13 (Sharon Carter) and Falcon (Sam Wilson) to track her down, though the reappearance of an unexpected threat (guest star Yelena Belova) gets in their way. Meanwhile, the Captain (Steve Rogers) and Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff) grow closer as they aid Spider-Man (Peter Parker) in upgrading the Team’s stealth suits. Elsewhere, Agent Hill (Maria Hill) is joined by Thor (Thor Odinson), Quicksilver (Pietro Maximoff), and Iron Man to pursue a lead on the organization that had abducted Scarlet Witch (Wanda Maximoff).

Air Date: January 22, 2018

COUP DE FOUDRE - Season 4, Episode 7

With the Team away, Captain (Steve Rogers), Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff), Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes), Scarlet Witch (Wanda Maximoff), and Spider-Man (Peter Parker) are left to defend themselves when the Facility comes under attack. Meanwhile, when Agent Hill (Maria Hill) fails to return to their rendezvous point on time, Thor (Thor Odinson) grows restless to find her, and Quicksilver (Pietro Maximoff) and Iron Man (Tony Stark) call Agent 13 (Sharon Carter), Falcon (Sam Wilson), and Hawkeye (Clint Barton) for reinforcements. Elsewhere, Black Panther (T’challa T’chaka) runs into a familiar face (guest star Nakia Shauku) as he carries out a special mission from the Director (writer/producer, guest star Nick Fury).

Air Date: January 29, 2018

GOD’S RIGHTEOUS MAN - Season 4, Episode 8

After fleeing the wreckage from the attack on the Facility, the Captain (Steve Rogers), Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff), Spider-Man (Peter Parker) Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes), and Scarlet Witch (Wanda Maximoff) seek refuge in a place that brings back ghosts from the Captain and Winter Soldier’s pasts. Elsewhere, Agent Hill (Maria Hill) continues to nurse her wounds with Thor’s (Thor Odinson) care as Iron Man (Tony Stark) reunites with Rescue (guest star Pepper Potts) and War Machine (guest star James Rhodes), who finally gives the Team some good news. Meanwhile, Black Panther (T’challa T’chaka) and Malice (guest star Nakia Shauku) reunite with Man-Ape (guest star M’Baku Jabari), who reveals that Golden Jaguar (guest star Erik Killmonger) has resurfaced.

Air Date: February 5, 2018

SHOT THROUGH THE HEART - Season 4, Episode 9

When Black Panther (T’challa T’chaka) reunites with the Team with his sister (guest star Shuri T’chaka) at his side, she proves to be the missing piece that Spider-Man (Peter Parker) and Iron Man (Tony Stark) need to complete their blueprints, while Agent Hill (Maria Hill) and Thor (Thor Odinson) come to a realization that could change the Team’s next course of action, and the Captain (Steve Rogers) and Black Widow (Natasha Romanoff) unearth vital secrets within the Team’s past that could give them an advantage. Meanwhile, Quicksilver (Pietro Maximoff) confides in the Winter Soldier (Bucky Barnes) about a secret that they fear may threaten Scarlet Witch’s (Wanda Maximoff) newfound control over her enhanced powers, though unknown to them, she is unnerved by a secret of her own. Elsewhere, a risky meeting between Hawkeye (Clint Barton) and the Mystery Agent (guest star Laura Barton) brings out a shocking revelation.

Air Date: February 12, 2018

Is your head spinning? Because ours certainly are!

Which episode are you most excited to see? Let us know in the comments below!

‘Marvelous’ Adds Former ‘Pym Technologies’ Co-Stars Scott Lang and Hope van Dyne to Stellar Guest Star Lineup

‘Marvelous’ Star Bruce Banner to Return as Series Regular in Season 5

Access Entertainment! Exclusive: First Look at Daisy Johnson, Stephen Strange, and Carol Danvers in ‘Marvelous’ Season 4B

[Image Caption: Steve Rogers and Natasha Romanoff standing on the beach in front of a gorgeous sunset. Steve is in a black tuxedo and Natasha is in a flowing white dress, one of her arms draped around Steve’s neck as she holds her bouquet between them. Steve holds Natasha in his arms, their heads are angled together as the camera catches them mid-laugh.]

1,323,019 likes

littlewandamaximoff A perfect picture to capture a perfect day :’) @stevenrogers @nataliaromanov

View all 2,942 comments

DECEMBER 25, 2017

[Image Caption: Steve Rogers in a tuxedo, sitting in a chair in the bridal suite as Natasha Romanoff stands behind him in her wedding dress, her hands covering his eyes as she leans in to speak into his ear, both of them smiling widely.]

1,804,310 likes

ohsnapwilson He wanted to be traditional, but also missed the sound of her voice after 3 hours apart. If that’s not straight out of an epic date night movie, I don’t know what is.

View all 3,027 comments

DECEMBER 25, 2017

[Image Caption: Steve Rogers in a tuxedo and Natasha Romanoff in her wedding dress as the couple dances under a canopy of flowers and twinkling lights against an evening backdrop by the beach. Steve’s head is bent with his face pressed into her hair, one of his hands holding onto one of hers as the other rests at her hip, holding her close as she laughs against his shoulder.]

View all 4,965 comments

nataliaromanov You are the best surprise of my life.

DECEMBER 25, 2017

Steve Rogers @stevefrombrooklyn - January 10 @therussianprincessnat hey.. i love you :)

Natasha A. Romanoff @therussianprincessnat - January 10 Replying to Steve Rogers: i’m sitting right next to you, you dork

Natasha A. Romanoff @therussianprincessnat - January 10 Replying to Steve Rogers: ps. i love you too :)

#romanogers #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #chanty writes #marvelous 'verse

53 notes · View notes

metalotaku-da · 6 years ago

Text

Kinkance Victories

“Ryan! Oh my god. You just scared the shit out of me dude!” Lance said bracing himself against the hall wall with one hand and a palm to his chest to support it from bursting out of his chest like it felt. He was practically bent in half as he stood in front of the MFE pilot. Ryan at least raised a brow at the wreck he unintendedly caused Lance to turn into. The Voltron pilot still in his hospital gown. His iv-bag tied haphazardly to his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asks the paladin once Lance has visibly collected himself enough to drop his hand from his chest and pull himself up by the wall back to standing height.

“What am I doing?” Lance asks back. “What are you doing?” Lance shoots back with a scrunched accusatory look at the MFE pilot. Causing the taller boy to raise his brow even higher and turn his head just a centimeter to the side at it.

“Patrolling.” Ryan answers still keeping his eyes on Lance.

“Pa...tro...lling?” Lance draws out the word looking around the dimmed hall they are in. “Just outside the medical ward?”

“there is a vulnerable important resource in the area.” Ryan says with a tone of authority.

“in the medical ward?” Lance says again. A skeptical brow raised and head tilt with a hand on a cocked hip.

“yes. One of which is currently out of its designated area.” Ryan says still keeping his eyes on Lance.

Lance looked around the hall again before turning back to Ryan. “and you know this… how?”

Ryan couldn’t hold back the little chuff snort at that. “I’m looking at him.” And Ryan would be lying to himself if he didn’t say he enjoyed watching the paladin turn a shade of his lion.

Lane sputtered a bit before getting out. “excuse you, I am not vulnerable.” He pointed an indignant finger at the ground between the two.

Ryan dropped his chin and both of his eyebrows rose at that exclamation. “you are unarmed, you have no pants, and your iv is tied to your arm.”

“And as a paladin of Voltron I've been at a worse disadvantage in a more hostile location. So, I'm just dandy thank you.” he flapped his hand condescendingly at the wrist at Ryan with an up turned nose and puckered lips.

“I'm still under orders to see to it that all paladins remain in their rooms for their required bed rest until discharged.” Ryan states plainly with full authority in his voice and posture. Shoulders squared and back, chest out and locked eye contact with the offending party.

“Right…” Lance says slowly pushing himself up and away from the wall a bit to stand up straight. He clicks his slippered heels together and brings his hand up for a salute. “Good luck with that cadet Kinkade.” Just as the look of puzzlement at the strange address and tone of respect directed at him kicks in Lance is turned and taking off running down an ajoining hallway. Giving the paladin a few second head start while Ryan's processing rebooted to follow. It does not take long for MFE pilot to catch up to the fleeing paladin. He is taller, uninjured and wearing rubber soled shoes. Just as he gets up alongside Lance the skinnier and more agile boy cuts a tight turn into another hall. Sliding a bit on his improper shoes and nearly colliding with a wall. But managed to keep moving forward until he righted himself. Getting another small lead as Ryan needed more time to make the turn and follow.

“Please do not get more injured on my shift. I don't want to fill out the paperwork.” Ryan called out as he watched Lance slip into another turn. He followed the sound of Lance's struggling laughter to find where his target had slipped into his next turn.

“Crap.” He heard from Lance as he made the turn to only see the paladin hunched over a bit braced once again on the wall of a dime hall way.

“Lance…” Ryan cut off as a finger was jutted up at him at an odd angle behind Lance's back.

“Minute. I just need a minute. I call a time out.” Lance got out between a few wheezes. Ryan carefully positioned himself behind Lance putting an arm around him at the shoulders above his ribs for support. Carefully maneuvering his other arm over his shoulder so as not to crush his iv bag. “No… no. I said time out. I'm not giving up my chance at freedom yet.” Lance said through some struggled breathes. Making an attempt to push away from his would-be jailer.

“You are not a prisoner.” Ryan says flatly with a roll of his eyes.

“Correct, I’m a captive. Prisoners get yard time at least. I’m done staring at the same four walls, and the teasing window that does not open. I need fresh air. I need out of this tin can. You are not going to stop me either. Been there for 3 weeks. I’m going stir crazy Here. We got out more on the trip home in deep space.” Lance all but yells at Ryan still trying to pull away from the man’s hold while panting.

“Five.” is Ryan’s response

Lance stares at Ryan for a hard minute, but he stopped straining against his hold also. “what?”

“You were unconscious for two.”

Lance Stares slack jawed at Ryan for several long seconds before squawking out loud enough to make Ryan flinch away from the sound. “You think that’s helpful? Less bad? Anything besides making it worse and justifying my mad dash for freedom?”

“It was just factual.” Ryan tries to sooth. But Lance just frowns deeper at him. Ryan let out a sigh. “if I take you back to your room will you…”

“I’m making my escape as soon as your back is turned.” Lance cut him off glaring at him. “I’m getting out of here for a few hours. You are not stopping me. No matter what. Do not think just because I’m in pain now that I’m letting you win this.” Lance seethed at him.

“you’re in pain?” Ryan said giving the boy in his arms a pained look.

Lance just gave him the most deadpanned look he could while hanging off him. “that’s your take away from what I’ve said.

“is there anything I can say or do to change your mind?” Kinkade asked carefully watching Lance’s face.

Lance puffing out his lower lip and rolling his eyes with a huff. “No, there is no changing my mind on being stir crazy and trapped like a rat on this ship. No offense to Allura’s mice.”

“Then,” Kinkade let out a sigh. “I'll accompany you.”

“What?” Lance asked confused by the response at first. Then completely caught off guard by Ryan sweeping his feet out from under him to lift him into his arms bridal style. Lance would deny the shriek that left him from the action, and that he clung tighter to his jailer bring up his free hand to wrap around the man's neck. While pressing his face into his own elbow propped on Ryan's shoulder.

“I won't drop you.” Ryan said turning down the hall he came from to head towards an outer exit to the haul of the ship.

“That is not the point. Why did you even pick me up? I can walk on my own.” Lance protested verbally. He made no attempts to get free though. Lifting his head to look around and get his bearings on where they were headed. His heart pounding away in his chest at the fright slowly settling though his breathing still a bit short.

“You still seem to be having some trouble breathing. I've failed my duty if you are made worse in the execution of them.” Ryan answered clearly.

“Ok, but like won't you get in trouble for sneaking out with me? What about the rest of your rounds?” Lance asked looking to Ryan with a worried lilt to his voice and face.

Ryan managed to catch it from a side glance before his attention was pulled to the door he was at. An air lock That was set to its atmospheric parameters. “Hold tight so I can open the door.” Ryan instructed instead of answering his charges questions. Once he felt Lance tighten his grip around his neck, Ryan dropped his arm from Lance's upper back and grabbed his key card attached to its lanyard at his waist swiping it across the lock before allowing it to retract to his belt. He swiftly brought his arm back up to support Lance before walking into the airlocks chamber. Once the inner door was shut he crouched down and set Lance up with his back to the door they just entered. Was he was clear of the paladins grasp.

Which Lance did seem to be a little hesitant to release at first. And maybe had a little regret in doing so the way his brow was furrowed as he watched Kinkade step away from him to swipe his key card to the exit door. Pressing a few keys to keep the door open. Allowing the cool night air to flood the room and giving the two boys a view of the sky from this upper deck. “I don't want to get you in trouble Ryan.” Lance said with some sadness to his voice and features when Ryan turned around to look at the paladins sitting on the floor.

Kinkade chose to sit down beside him before answering once his back was pressed to the same door as Lance's. “My shift is almost over anyway. I call in a favor to get my relief on duty early.”

With those words to Lance Ryan pushed his call button. “Kinkade to Griffin.”

“What is it Kinkade? Why aren't you at your post?” Griffin's voice came in clear over the comms. “Rizavavi brought you dinner and you were not at your post. She's on shift now because of you.”

“Apologies. I was needed to escort an escaped paladin.” Ryan's hand shot up to cover Lance's mouth before the boy could say whatever words he had hanging from his lips in indignation at being ratted out by the boy besides him. “In process now.”

“Are you kidding me!?” Griffin's angry tirade over the comms echoed off the walls. “You tell Kogane to get his ass back to his room and actually follow orders!” Lance's eyebrow raised at that and Ryan gave him just the slightest up turn of the side of his mouth. “He maybe be head of Voltron, but he is not in charge of anything here at the Garrison. He the same lowly cadet as the rest of us. And he needs to step back in line.” They both smiled, Ryan feeling Lance's on the palm of his hand and seeing it in his eyes at the comm as a frustrated growl came through it. “Where the hell are you at Kinkade? I'm checking your location.”

“Sector Hulu 23 sir.” Ryan answered before James responded in like.

“Is he on the outside of the atlas again?! You get him inside and back to his room! Do you hear me Kinkade. Put your comm out the fucking airlock.” James didn't even wait more than a breath before he started screaming. Ryan wincing and Lance bringing his hands up to cup his ears. ” Kogane back inside the ship or so help me I will have the entire science R&D department on a way to keep your dog from disappearing. Do you hear me?! I will find a way to extend your stay in medical another 3 weeks asshole, you are not above a fucking medical order for bedrest.”

“I don't think you have that kind of pull sir.” Kinkade answered with another grin when Griffin stopped for a breather. His smile widened as Lance had heard and when dropping his hands from his ears had to quickly clamp them over Ryan's pressed to his mouth to keep from laughing.

“That is beside the point Kinkade. Is he coming to you or not?” Griffin practically growled.

“He is not on the outside of the ship sir.” Kinkade answered in his same stoic voice he had been using the whole conversation with James. No hint of emotion or lie to his words. Lance watched him in awe as he easily lied to his Superior and basically pinned it all on Keith without actually doing either.

“That son of a bitch.” Griffin cursed. “Kinkade your shift is up. Get food then hit the hay. The rest of us will find the black paladin and escort him back.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ryan answered before turning off his comms before pulling his hand back from Lance's mouth and taking both the other boy’s hands with him.

As soon as the obstructions were clear words spilled from Lance's slightly swollen lips. “Holy shit!” His hands shot up to pull at his hair. “did you… did you just… throw Keith under the bus to buy me some free time in the yard?” His hands darted from his head to Kinkade’s collar to shake him by it slightly.

Ryan's face was back to its emotionless mask as the paladin shook him. Only raising a single eyebrow while responding after grabbing the boy’s wrists to stop the jostling. “I did not. Just because he's escaped 4 times this week and Griffin chose to jump to conclusions instead of asking for more information, does not mean that I threw anyone under the bus.” Once Lance released his collar Ryan moved his hands a few inches away from his body before releasing them. “And this is not the yard. It's barely a patio or balcony.”

At that Lance fell back against the door to laugh before his giggles turned into groans and he held his sides while coughing and groaning between giggles. “I wouldn't have picked you the type to skirt the rules Ryan.” Lance said with labored breathes. Before he turned to look at Kinkade fondly with his head at an angle. “Thank you for doing it for me. Even for something stupid like seeing outside.”

“It's not stupid. You were gone for almost five years. You deserve to get to see the earth.” Ryan said with his own soft look at the paladin before turning his attention to the view of the moon and stars out the air lock. “Besides, maybe Kogane should take one for his team. He is your leader. And the action of those under him fall under his responsibility.”

With that Lance threw his head back to laugh loudly again before it caused another flare up of pain. “I like you cadet Kinkade.” Lance said once his breathing steadied again. “He got under your skin too at the academy?” Lance asked still a smile plastered to his face as he looked out at the constellations he thought a few times he'd never see again in the past few years.

Ryan gave a small shrug in answer. “I hated doing unnecessary drills.” and Ryan caught out of the corner of his eye Lance's smile grow impossibly bigger.

“Yeah, me too. You want some revenge on him. Tell him we had a bonding moment that I actually remember.” His last word getting cut off with a yawn.

“Will you remember it? Sounds like your about to fall asleep.”

“Definitely. And I am not. I wouldn't want to make you deal with waking me up to go back to my room in the ward. I'm cranky when I get woken up. Unless you are yay tall.” Lance raised his hand to roughly gesture the height of his niece and nephew.

“Don't worry about it. I'll watch your back and carry you back after you fall sleep.”

“You don't have to do that Ryan.” Lance said with another yawn.

“No, but I want to have to return my charge. Even if a Bit late. Small victories.” those words follow with a soft smirk of the lips from Ryan.

“I got to get out, so we can both have this one. Though I think I won more. I got some nice company I wasn't expecting.” Lance said with a lighter smile. “Thanks again.”

“No problem.” The two sat in silence for about an hour before Lance slide on the wall till he was leaning against Ryan's shoulder fast asleep. The older boy lifting his Voltron counterpart into his arms to carry back to his hospital bed. A warm smile on his face the whole way.

#ryan and lance week #ryan #kinkade #kinkance #lance #lance mcclain #Voltron #mfe pilots

20 notes · View notes

paladinsuho-moved · 7 years ago

Text

stay with me [chanbaek]

summary: when byun baekhyun wakes up in the ER and can’t remember anything about the car crash, or the man who was driving, who is apparently his husband, he braces himself feel pity for the man, one park chanyeol. it comes as quite a surprise to him and everyone involved when chanyeol wakes up and doesn’t remember him either.

ship: chanbaek (park chanyeol x byun baekhyun)

genre: ANGST, fluff

warnings: minor language, minor medical procedures, hospitals, my bad attempts at humor.

word count: 3.3k

a/n: i’ve been wanting to write this since,, january. and i just finished this like, twenty minutes ago. this is going to be a more baekhyun-centric fic, as you can see in this first chapter, but there will be chapters focused on chanyeol. this fic is my baby (do i not say that about all of my other fics tho?), so please, i hope you guys enjoy (and also enjoy my girlfriends’ appearance in this, amber and krystal from f(x)) ;-; happy suffering! also, the part about crime shows being the only thing to watch at the hospital comes from personal experience, i know what i’m talking about.

masterlist

chapter one: my name is byun baekhyun

“What do you remember?”

He remembers feeling angry. An argument, but not what he was saying. The car, soft pop music from the radio almost taunting him with its chipper melodies. Sitting in shotgun, when lights come into sight, blinding him. The impact, his senses kicking into overdrive as the car hits his. And next to him, in the driver’s seat…

“A man. Th-there was a man with me.”

The nurse and the doctor exchange a look, before looking back to him. He feels uncomfortable, as if he’s a science project being poked and prodded at -- he hopes this ends soon. He wants to go back to sleep, even though he’d been unconscious ten minutes ago.

“What’s your name, sir?” Doctor Liu’s voice is monotonous, lifting her clipboard and looking at some documents, papers that he can’t see. He searches his mind for a moment, eyes darting here and there as he ponders the answer.

“B-Baekhyun. My name is Byun Baekhyun.”

The nurse eyes the documents the doctor is looking at, then nods. “Good. You remember that much. How old are you, Mr. Byun?”

He bites his lip, racking his brain for an answer. He remembers being 21, but he doesn’t feel 21. And judging by what appears to be the wedding ring on his left hand, he’s definitely not 21.

“I… I can’t remember.”

Once more, to Baekhyun’s dismay, the nurse and the doctor exchange glances once more. He sighs in slight desperation, wondering when they’ll just get to the point. “W-what’s wrong with me, doctor?”

The doctor looks over to Baekhyun, and sighs at the look on his face. “Mr. Byun, what do you remember about the man who was with you in the car?”

Baekhyun takes a deep breath, before clenching his jaw so hard that he can feel the way his teeth grind together, like gears that don’t fit well with each other. He can’t find a face, or a voice, or a name of the mystery man driving the car. The only thing he’s sure of is that he must’ve been very angry, too angry, to start yelling.

“I can’t remember anything, I’m sorry.”

The doctor nods firmly, before pulling the nurse to the side to speak for a while. He fiddles nervously with his fingers, staring at his right leg, which is stuck in a cast whiter than the stark bright lights of the hospital room, the ones that greeted him when he first woke up, the ones that made him wonder if he was dead.

He catches a few words here and there, but doesn’t strain his ears to listen -- he doesn’t really care. He’s still in shock, asking himself why he doesn’t remember anything, even though deep down, he knows the answer. He’s seen that movie with Channing Tatum and Rachel McAdams, he’s not stupid. Amnesia.

Ironically, as he silently asks himself how old he is, racking his brain for any trace of a memory of his last birthday, he can’t come up with anything other than the lyrics to that stupid Blink 182 song. He rolls his eyes at himself, before lying back down, shutting his eyes and trying to shut out everything else around him.

“Mr. Byun?” The nurse asks less than a minute later, now having finished her exchange with the doctor. He perks up, eyes opening and beginning to sit up. “Yes?”

The nurse walks towards his IV and begins to ensure that everything is in check, and Baekhyun winces at the slight discomfort as the needle under his skin moves slightly as the tube connected to it is tampered with.

“Mr. Byun, if you truly can’t remember the accident, your age and the man in the car with you, then, my diagnosis would have to be post-traumatic amnesia, along with physical damage -- three bruised ribs, a concussion, and a broken leg.” Doctor Liu’s voice is firm; non accusatory yet stern.

Baekhyun nods, furrowing his eyebrows as the official diagnosis sets in. “H-how long was I unconscious, exactly?”

At this, the doctor scratches the back of her head, before glancing at her papers once more. “According to this… Sixteen hours. You should feel lucky that you’re awake, Mr. Park is still unconscious, and with the damage he’s sustained, we’re unsure if he’ll wake up at all--”

“Mr. Park?” Baekhyun can’t help but interrupt, the mention of a new name, and the curiosity inside him wonders if this was the man driving the car, the one he’d been arguing with.

“Oh, yes -- sorry about that. The man who was with you, driving the car. He received most of the trauma, given the fact that he was in the side of the car where the truck crashed into it. His name is Park Chanyeol, and according to these files, and the visitors you’ve had… Well, he’s your husband.”

Husband? Baekhyun thinks, furrowing his eyebrows, Wait, I’m gay? That’s so… Actually… That’s not surprising. Like, at all.

Still, he can’t deny the cold feeling washing down his spine as he sits up from the hospital bed, like when the wind blows at you while you’re walking through the rain, and the wetness makes it worse.

“Wait, so… h-how is he? Chanyeol.”

Doctor Liu purses her lips and exhales sharply through her nose, as if she doesn’t want to share the information. For a moment, she tilts her head back and forth, weighing the consequences.

Baekhyun bites his lip nervously, and a twinge of involuntary guilt blooms in the middle of his chest -- what will happen when this man wakes up, and Baekhyun has no idea who he is?

Doctor Liu eventually lifts the papers on her clipboard to check her facts before reporting back to Baekhyun. Quietly, gently, trying to sugar-coat the damage.

“He's… he’s not good. Two broken ribs, a broken wrist, a concussion.”

Baekhyun winces at the news, before shaking his head and clasping his hands together in hopes that they don't start shaking. He takes a deep, shaky breath before gathering the courage to speak again.

“But he's not awake? I can't go to see him, or anything—”

“You're still supposed to stay in bed, Mr. Byun, because of your leg,” Nurse Krystal reminds him, “And even if you could, Mr. Park hasn't woken up since the accident. He's not in critical condition anymore, but—”

“Krystal,” Doctor Liu interjects through somewhat gritted teeth, “This is obviously overwhelming information, for someone who just woke up himself. Let's give him a while to process this before we tell him the whole story. Unless, that's what you want, Mr. Byun—”

“N-no, please.” Baekhyun doesn't look at either of them, staring straight ahead at the dull bluish gray wall of the hospital room, “I’d rather not do this right now. I’d like to rest, if that's alright.”

Doctor Liu nods, and so does Nurse Krystal, eyes showing a slight amount of remorse and guilt. The nurse explains that the button behind him on the wall will notify her or any other nurse on duty. He nods once, indicating understanding, and with that, the pair take their leave.

When the door finally closes, he realizes he'd been holding his breath. Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair, shutting his eyes for a minute, taking everything in.

My name is Byun Baekhyun. I was in a car accident. I have amnesia. I'm gay, but that’s honestly not much of a surprise. I'm married. My husband still hasn't woken up.

My husband's name is Park Chanyeol. I don't remember anything about him.

His eyes open, slowly, as his gaze curiously glances down to find the wedding ring on his left hand. Clenching his jaw, he quickly removes it to inspect it more closely.

He cradles it gently, as though it's made of glass. It's nothing too flashy, silver and gold sandwiched together to meet in the middle. On the inside, he catches an engraving, and he brings it closer to his eyes, closing one of them and squinting in order to read the tiny text.

To Baek, from here to the stars.

He sets it down on the small table for a moment, before realizing he could lose it, and half a second later, despite feeling his skin crawl he puts it back on.

His skin doesn't crawl because he woke up married to someone he couldn't remember. That happens to the average person after a wild weekend in Vegas. His skin crawls because it feels wrong to be here, wearing the ring.

He feels like an impostor who's taking the place of someone else. He doesn't… he doesn't know this man, this Park Chanyeol. He's not sure if he'd love Park Chanyeol if he woke up and barged into his hospital room claiming to know and love him.

Because he had a feeling that, in the best case scenario, Park Chanyeol had loved a Byun Baekhyun—but not the Byun Baekhyun that was currently in charge of steering the sinking ship. It's a horrible way to think, but it was the truth. The ugly truth, yes, but still the truth.

A knock on the door jolts him back to reality, and half a second later he’s glancing up to see the door opening, and to his relief, it’s finally a familiar face. Two faces, actually, as his best friends, Minseok and Jongdae enter the room.

Jongdae’s expression is slightly happier than Minseok’s, and as Jongdae closes the room, they exchange a brief look. As they make their way towards Baekhyun, he manages to crack a small smile.

“Hey.” It’s the only thing he can manage to say without breaking down completely. He feels like he’s just jumped off of a plane, and his parachute isn’t working. He’s falling, falling, and there’s nothing to slow down his momentum.

“Hey, Baek.” Minseok’s response is quiet, and while he manages a smile, he still sounds grim. “How’re you doing?”

He shrugs, tongue lying heavy in his mouth. “I’ve been better. I don’t… I don’t remember anything.”

Once again, the pair in front of him exchange looks, before looking back to him. Jongdae puts his hand on the small railing of his hospital bed, and leans against it, careful not to let it roll around too much.

“Nothing? Nothing at all?”

Baekhyun shakes his head, furrowing his eyebrows. He holds up his left hand shakily, showing off the ring. “Do you have any idea just how terrifying this is? I’m married, for fuck’s sake.”

Jongdae’s face flashes in a somewhat sympathetic expression, and Baekhyun runs a hand through his hair, desperate. “Doctor Liu told us everything. I’m sorry, Baek. We’ve been here since yesterday, if it makes you feel any better. Waiting for you to wake up.”

“How long have I been married to this guy? Chanyeol?” Baekhyun bites his lip nervously, exhaling through his nostrils.

Jongdae opens his mouth to speak, raising a hand, but Minseok cuts him off, nodding his head back and forth as he speaks. “It’s going to be four years next may.”

“And how long have I known him?”

Minseok pauses for a moment, looking to Jongdae for a moment, before back to Baekhyun. Baekhyun notices something in Jongdae’s eyes for a brief second, but it’s gone before he can tell what. “Well, you guys met that night we had that big party at my house... That was a few weeks before your college graduation, so that would make it six years now.”

Baekhyun nods, face still scrunched up at the information. He’s staring at his lap, processing what Minseok just told him. If his math is correct, and he’d known Park Chanyeol for six years, then he’s most likely 27. The room falls silent for a few moments, before Jongdae finally sighs, before speaks.

“You guys really love each other, if it makes you feel any better. He takes good care of you, just like you take care of him, you know?”

Baekhyun’s smile is sad, and once more, he looks down at the ring on his finger. “I just… I don’t want to know how he’ll react when he wakes up. I don’t remember him, but I also don’t want him to hurt, you know?”

Minseok puts his hand on Baekhyun’s back, giving him a few rough pats. “It’ll be hard on him, probably. But he’s pretty optimistic, and if I’m right, he won’t give up on you. He loves you too much.”

“And besides,” Jongdae interjects, “Yeol’s a big boy, he can handle you.”

“Figuratively, and literally. He’s tall as hell. And if what I remember from you being drunk a few years ago is true… He’s a big boy, if you know what I mean.” Minseok smirks, trying to lighten the mood, wiggling his eyebrows before both Jongdae and Baekhyun smack him, Baekhyun snorting.

“Shut up, hyung,” Baekhyun and Jongdae say in unison, before turning to quietly laugh at each other.

Once the laughter bubbles down, Baekhyun smiles at both of them, tilting his head. “Thanks for being here, guys. I don’t know what I’d do if I were alone by myself.”

“We’ll always be here to help,” Minseok replies, “We weren’t going to just leave you here.”

Baekhyun’s smile grows, and Jongdae ruffles his hair. “I mean, the only reason you were alone when you woke up was because we were hungry as hell, and the bibimbap they have here is great, but at least we're here now.”

“Jongdae?”

“Yes, Baek?”

“Shut up.”

The days pass slowly, Minseok and Jongdae taking turns so that he wouldn't be alone, except at night, when they went back to their homes to sleep.

Minseok and Jongdae have helped to fill in some, but not all, of the gaps as the days pass. He's 28, he's a preschool teacher, Chanyeol works an office job, and up until now, the only child they've had is their cat, Asshole. He's still not sure if Jongdae was kidding or not when he told him the cat’s name.

His memories still haven't come back, and a little voice at the back of his mind asks if they ever will.

His days were occupied by Minseok’s fussing, Jongdae’s bad jokes, Doctor Liu’s check-ups, bland, unseasoned lunches and dinners, reruns of Law and Order: SVU on the television, failed attempts to stick a straw into his leg cast to scratch at any itch he gets. And, of course, thoughts of Park Chanyeol.

He asks, at one point on the third day, if he can visit him, to which Doctor Liu denies him, saying she didn't want him to get stressed.

He's definitely not dumb. He knows that if Chanyeol still hasn't woken up after this long, that something is wrong, and if he was, at one point, emotionally involved with him, he at least wants to see him, just to see what he looks like. He would've looked through his phone to find a picture, but it was destroyed in the accident.

It's on the eighth day after he wakes up that Baekhyun finally catches a break, and Doctor Liu tells him he's responsive, but not fully awake.

“We think he’ll be fully awake and responsive by tomorrow,” Doctor Liu explains during her daily check-up, “You're doing much better, would you like to see him then?”

Baekhyun contemplates the offer for a moment, before nodding. “Might as well get it over with,” He answers, and Doctor Liu nods with a small smile.

When Minseok comes back and he explains what she'd told Baekhyun, he nods and smiles at the news.

“That's good, man, that's good. You'll be fine. I know you will.”

He can’t sleep that night. He’s too restless, too impatient, too scared. The man he’s meeting in a few hours is his husband, but he still can’t remember a thing. And that terrifies him.

The way his memories can’t remember anything about him make him want to keep Park Chanyeol at a cold, clinical distance, barely within arm’s reach.

But the way Minseok and Jongdae have been filling his empty head with stories of the man who gave him the ring that, for some reason, he refuses to take off, makes him doubt. They’d said Chanyeol would be willing to wait for him. But what if he didn’t?

To wake up in a world where the one you loved has been replaced by someone who wants nothing to do with you, now that is the most terrifying thought indeed.

He sits impatiently the entire morning, he barely even manages to down his morning coffee. The reruns of Law and Order: SVU that play on the TV manage to calm him down, but it can only do so much. Neither Jongdae nor Minseok are with him, finally being called back to their respective jobs. By the time Doctor Liu comes around, he’s practically bouncing off the walls.

“Good morning, Baekhyun.” Her voice is warm, calming, her tone motherly. He smiles, nodding.

“Sleep well?” She asks, and he drops the smile, shaking his head. “I barely slept. I’m terrified, Doc.”

She nods, understandingly. “It can be a bit overwhelming. But I’m sure you’ll be fine. I haven’t gone in to see him yet -- but I assume he’s asking about you already. It’ll be fine, they’ve probably told him about your condition, so it might not be as much of a shock once he sees you again for the first time.”

He doesn’t respond; her encouragement doesn’t exactly ease the high speed nerves churning in his stomach, as if someone’s pressed the puree button on a blender.

She helps him out of bed, and he groans slightly as he’s helped into the wheelchair that they’ve brought him to move to the bathroom or anywhere else if he needed to, seeing as his leg is still in the cast. They told him it’d be another month and a half before he’s able to walk right, assuming he takes care of himself.

He assumes the way to Park Chanyeol’s room will take a while, so he decides he’ll think of what to say as Doctor Liu helps him get there.

Big mistake. It’s right next to his, and he almost pisses himself when he comes to this realization. But at the same time, he was less than twenty feet away from Park Chanyeol, and no one told him? Rude.

This hospital room is different to his; it has a small hallway before it opens towards where he assumes that the bed lies. He can’t see anything, or anyone, except for a wall.

“Mr. Park, are you awake?” Doctor Liu says, and he hears a hum of confirmation. The voice is deep, and he gnaws on the inside of his cheek, his hands gripping the sides of the wheelchair until his knuckles turn whiter than the walls.

“Come on in,” The voice says, and he takes a deep breath as the wheelchair rolls into the room, and, for the first not first time, he finally sees Park Chanyeol, face to face.

The first thing he notices are the ears. They’re big, and stick out underneath dark, black hair. His eyes are dark, quickly bouncing between him and the doctor, and the few small tattoos he has along his arms seem to jump out at him against the background of tan skin. He has a few stitches, and the circles under his eyes are dark, as if he hadn’t been sleeping for more than a week, but he still manages to take Baekhyun’s breath away.

If being gay didn’t come as a surprise him, the fact that he fell for this gorgeous human somehow surprises him even less.

“I’m Doctor Liu, I assumed Doctor Kim told you about me?”

“Yes, he did,” Chanyeol says, nodding. His voice is deep, and soft, as Chanyeol’s eyes meet Baekhyun’s. The blender of nerves sitting in Baekhyun’s stomach goes into overdrive, from puree to instant death from the inside out.

Chanyeol studies Baekhyun for a moment, and Baekhyun waits for it to come: a hey, sweetheart, or Baekhyun, you’re here, or something along those lines that will make Baekhyun’s chest tighten with pity.

Instead, what Chanyeol says next causes his eyes to widen, and the blender to turn off, as if it’s been dropped off a cliff along with the rest of his stomach.

“Doctor… Who’s this?”

[chapter two: my name is park chanyeol]

#exo #exo scenarios #exo fanfiction #exo angst #byun baekhyun #exo baekhyun #baekhyun #baekhyun scenarios #park chanyeol #exo chanyeol #chanyeol #chanyeol scenarios #chanbaek #chanbaek scenarios #chanbaek angst #park chanyeol x byun baekhyun #byun baekhyun x park chanyeol #never don't mind about a queue #my stuff

85 notes · View notes

forlornmelody · 7 years ago

Text

Spare Parts Chapter 25 -- Breaking

Rating: M/E (See below for notes)

Ship: FemShep Clone/Maya Brooks, FemShep Clone/Asari OC

AO3 Links: First Chapter. // This Chapter.

FF.net Links: First Chapter. // This Chapter.

Summary: Cerberus wants Shepard’s clone dead. Hope Lillium wants the clone to replace Shepard. The reapers want to exterminate her along with the rest of the galaxy. No one asks what the clone wants–and even she isn’t sure if she has the right to ask. But she asks that question every day.

Notes: While this chapter is safe for all platforms, previous chapters have different versions. (The extended, explicit cut is hosted on AO3.)

The Clone wakes up in a hospital bed. Wires and IV’s stick out from every visible angle and then some. She looks more like a hanar than a human--if hanar wrapped their dead in bandages. Trying to sit up, she only manages to set off an alarm before she screams in pain. One of her legs is in a sling, and a cast that runs from her thigh to her foot--she won’t be going anywhere anytime soon.

“We found you in an office building next to a shattered window.” She looks up to see a blonde man in a C-Sec uniform. “Mind telling us how you got there, Commander Shepard?”

Something about the way he’s sitting next to her, without a pistol or an omni-blade in his hand suggests he doesn’t know her real identity--if she ever had one.

“I fell.” She manages to say. Her throat is as dry as a bunch of rocks

“From where? The Normandy!?”

The Clone tries to nod, but that sends pain piercing through her skull. “Y-yeah.”

The officer starts taking notes on his omni-tool. “I heard it was quite the firefight. A clone!? What will the Illusive Man think of next?”

“It wasn’t Cerberus.” She should probably shut her mouth. Then again, she wasn’t supposed to survive that fall, so why bother trying to hide? Maybe if she’s lucky she can get him to shoot her in the head. “It was a separatist group.”

“I see.”

“Hey, Bailey! We got an issue down at the embassy. We need you to take care of it.”

Armando Bailey. One of the heads of C-Sec, or something. Commander? Captain? The Clone does her best to keep her heart rate low.

“Sorry, Shepard. Looks like I gotta go.”

“Don’t worry about it...Bailey.” The Clone shifts, trying to get comfortable. There is no getting comfortable like this. “Any idea how long I’m stuck here?”

“You’ll have to ask the doc. Catch you later, Shepard.”

Right on cue, the doctor catches the door, slipping inside. She’s a petite young woman with short hair and a thick Russian accent. “Good day, Commander Shepard. How are you feeling?”

“Like I picked a fight with a Reaper.”

“Mm. From the reports I’ve heard--it wouldn’t be the first time.” The doctor moves, checking her vitals. She chews her lip, glancing back at the Clone. “You’ve been here unconscious for nearly two days. You have multiple fractures and some internal bleeding, as well as a small concussion.” Fortunately, your spinal cord was not affected.”

“How long until I can check out?”

“You may check out any time you like--as soon as we can transfer you into Dr. Chakwa’s care.” The doctor’s gaze drifts to her right, and it’s then the Clone notices the handcuffs restraining her to the bed. Whoever the doctor is--she knows.

“I mean, how long until I recover?” Her heart rate spikes on the monitor.

“With your enhanced body, only a couple days of rest. Your armor protected you quite effectively in your fall.” The doctor makes a few notes on her clipboard. “Anything else I get you, Commander? More pain medicine, perhaps?” She says this with an edge in her voice. A threat.

“I’m starving, actually. Could you put in an order for me?” Looking directly at the doctor, she puts on the least threatening smile she can manage. “I can’t seem to access my omni-tool.” The doctor frowns, and the Clone smiles. She makes a point of ordering something highly specialized and complex, for dietary and religious reasons.

When the doctor finally leaves, the Clone breathes in and out, counting the seconds until her heart rate slows, and assesses her situation. She’s restrained, implying the hospital staff, or perhaps C-Sec (how much does Bailey know? Is he in on her arrest?) fears her leaving the room on her own. The doctor must have been exaggerating her need for rest, to keep her here long enough for the authorities to arrive--er, return.

Thinking of Brooks makes the Clone hurt in ways her injuries never could. At least her lessons aren’t all completely useless. Without speaking, the Clone rotates her right wrist left, then right, then left two times, activating Brooks’ hacking protocol. The cuff falls off, and she removes the other, biting her lip as her broken ribs protest. She takes out her IV’s next, along with the sensor pads monitoring her pulse and respiration. As the alarms begin to blare, the Clone stuffs disposable gloves into her mouth, and launches herself out of bed. Hopefully no one can hear her muffled scream over the sound of the alarms. No one rushes to her door. The hospital must be understaffed in the wake of the war.

The Clone feels sluggish, drugs probably, and the exhaustion that injuries and not eating for two days will do to a person. She braces herself on the rails of the bed until she can reach the doorknob. At the nurse’s station, she finds an empty wheel chair, and sits down, wheeling herself towards the exit. She nearly leaves, before realizing she’s only wearing a hospital gown. Where would there be an extra set of clothes handy? Break room.

There are multiple staff members on break inside, so the Clone pulls the fire alarm. She catches the door as the last one leaves, and she slips inside. In their haste, most of the employees left their personal belongings behind. A few hacked lockers later, the Clone finds some casual clothes in her size, and puts them on. The Clone slides back out and follows the crowd down the hallway, and towards the nearest emergency exit. While the staff and patients wait for the fire time to arrive, the Clone keeps walking.

Here comes the riskiest part--the Clone has no credits to her name (and doesn’t even have a name to tie them to), so she’s stuck using Shepard’s. To get a shuttle fast, she must use Shepard’s Spectre override. Easy--as long as Shepard hasn’t bothered to reinstate her biometric data.

The Clone waves her omni-tool over the terminal, holding her breath. Her implants report few exits, and high security if her plan fails. She feels the gaze of everyone watching her, whether they pay her any attention or not. Every second passes like an hour.

Then the light turns green. The Clone is dizzy with relief. She orders a shuttle as fast as she can.

Destination? The terminal inquires. It pulls up a map on her omni-tool.

Up until now, the only destination the Clone considered was off the Citadel. The terminal needs a more specific answer.

The Clone stares out the window, her mind spinning so fast she can’t do much other than watch the ships arrive and depart. She could go anywhere. No one would stop her. No one would argue with her.

With tears forming in her eyes, the Clone chooses her destination.

Within minutes, a small cargo ship with supplies and weapons arrives to pick her up and take her to Earth.

#mass effect #shepard clone #maya brooks #maya brooks x shepard clone #melody writes #spare parts #it's ALMOST DONE #such a weird bittersweet feeling

4 notes · View notes

thepeanutbutterwizard · 7 years ago

Text

Precipice Chapter 5: The Saddest Song

Here we go! The angst train is leaving the station!

Chapter 4 Chapter 6

Warnings for blood, violence, and some...freaky-deaky eerie magical implications.

This one guys, this one got painful. Enjoy!

Ford was paralyzed. No, no, nonono. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. His breath hitched in his lungs, and it felt like ice was forming in his chest, squeezing his heart. He was caught like a deer in the headlights under the yellow glare coming from his brothers eyes.

”IN THE FLESH FORDSY!” Bill cackled through Stan. “WELL, NOT MY FLESH YET, BUT THIS IS BETTER THAN NOTHING. ESPECIALLY SINCE YOU DECIDED TO BLOCK ALL MY CALLS.” Bill awkwardly moved Stan’s broken arm and knocked the plaster cast against his head, hard. “TALK ABOUT RUDE.”

Blood stated to seep through the bandages around Stan’s head where Bill had banged the cast against it. The sight of the crimson stain growing on the white bandages snapped Ford out of his stupor. “BILL!” Ford yelled, his voice thick with fear and rage “Get out of my brother!”

”AWW LOOK AT YOU FORDSY, PRETENDING TO BE A CARING BROTHER AFTER FORTY YEARS OF HATING OL’ STANLEY’S GUTS! IT’S ADORABLE WATCHING YOU MEAT SACKS AND YOUR DELUSIONS OF LOVE AND ALL THAT JUNK!” Bills grin impossibly got wider, stretching Stanley’s face to the point that it made Ford’s cheeks hurt just looking at him. “BUT HEY, IF YOU INSIST ON PRETENDING TO LOVE YOUR DUMB BROTHER, I’LL PLAY ALONG!” Bill twisted, swinging Stanley’s broken arm over to the one that was tied to the bed. Before Ford could even process what Bill was doing, he grabbed Stan’s thumb and gave it a hard wrench. A sickening ‘pop’ echoed through the hospital room, and Bill slid Stan’s hand through the restraint with a loud, pleased laugh. “OHH MAN! I FORGOT HOW AMAZING IT FEELS TO DISLOCATE FINGERS! I MEAN, A DISLOCATED ARM IS FUN AND ALL, BUT THERE’S JUST SOMETHING SO INTENSE ABOUT DISLOCATING SOMETHING SO SMALL!” Bill reached down and undid the restraints around Stan’s ankles, before throwing the thin hospital sheet and Mabel’s beautiful gift to the floor. He swung around, hanging Stan’s legs off the side of the bed, and threw his arms out as best he could, tugging the IV lines taught. “COME GIVE YOUR BROTHER A HUG SIXER! WE BOTH KNOW YOU WANT TO!”

Ford took a step back, mind racing. “This is a trick! Enough of your games Cipher! Leave me in peace!” This was all a dream. That was the only situation that made sense. Ford must have fallen asleep in that chair, and left himself open, vulnerable to Cipher and his power over the Mindscape. That had to be what was happening. Ford knew that Stan would never fall for Bill’s tricks and flattery.

“OH HO HO, YOU WISH THIS WAS A TRICK SIXER!” Bill cackled “YOU WISH THAT THIS WAS JUST ONE OF YOUR NIGHTMARES! BUT, NOPE, THIS IS 100 PERCENT, CERTIFIABLY REAL!” Bill waved Stan’s arms around, doing his best to aggravate Stan’s broken arm by banging it against his chest repeatedly. “Y’SEE, EVEN THOUGH HE ISN’T QUITE PRESENT, STANNY BOY’S MINDSCAPE IS VERY MUCH ACTIVE! WELL, IT’S AS ACTIVE AS AN IDIOT LIKE YOUR BROTHER’S CAN BE!”

“Don’t you dare!” Ford roared, pointing a finger at Bill and taking a step forward. Hot rage and icy fear were both swirling in Fords chest, making it difficult to decide what to do. Part of him wanted to flee, and part of him wanted to fight. But Ford was certain of one thing: whatever he did, he wasn’t going to leave Stanley. “Don’t you dare insult my brother!”

Bill waved Stanley’s right hand dismissively, making the dislocated thumb stick out at an awkward angle. A small trickle of blood started to flow out from under Stanley’s bandages. “OH PUH-LEASE SMART GUY! DON’T PRETEND THAT I’M NOT SAYING ANYTHING THAT YOU HAVEN’T THOUGHT! I’VE SEEN EVERY INCH OF YOUR MIND STANFORD! WE BOTH AGREE THAT STANLEY IS JUST A GOOD-FOR-NOTHING LYING BUM!”

“Shut up Bill! Shut up and leave him alone, he’s hurt!” Ford took another step towards Bill, hands held out in a placating gesture. Over Stan’s shoulder, Ford caught sight of a small metal tray next to the bed, with a single needle filled with a clear drug, resting on it. One of the doctors must have left it, in case Stanley had woken up violently again. A vague plan, more like a snippet of one, started to form in Ford’s mind. Perhaps I could use that to expel Bill from Stanley’s body. I just need to get around him with out Bill figuring out what I’m trying to do, or else who knows what he could try to do to Stanley. Let’s see if I can get him rambling. Bill loves to talk about himself. “Leave, before one of the doctors comes to see why his breathing tube disconnected.” Ford knew it was a clumsy change in topic, but he had to try.

“PFFT, AS IF SIXER!” Bill didn’t seem to notice or care about Fords desperate conversation switch. “I’VE BEEN TRYING TO GET AHOLD OF THIS BODY SINCE STANLEY BROKE HIS SKULL OPEN! EVEN WHEN HE’S HALUCINATING ABOUT YOU TWO BEING ON THAT STUPID BOAT, STANLEY’S PRETTY CRAFTY! A CONMAN AFTER MY OWN NONEXISTANT HEART, HE IS!” Bill’s voice was filled with mock pride as he spoke. It made Ford sick to hear him talking about Stanley, his Stanley, his brother, his twin, like he was some sort of prized protégée. “I’M INSULTED THAT YOU THINK I WOULD WASTE ALL OF THAT EFFORT TO GET HERE WITHOUT MAKING SURE THE MEAT SACKS THAT FIX BROKEN MEAT SACKS WERE OUT OF THE WAY! NO ONE IS GOING TO BOTHER COMING AROUND HERE FOR AT LEAST AN HOUR AND A HALF.” Bill’s grin shifted into something more taunting. A spike of fear stabbed Ford in the heart. Oh no, what now? “IN FACT I’M SO INSULTED, I THINK I MIGHT DO...THIS!!” In one swift movement, Bill dislocated another one of Stan’s fingers, letting out another insane peal of laughter.

“STOP!” Ford’s voice cracked as he screamed at Bill. “Bill, please, please I’m begging you!” He reached out to Stanley, taking another step forward. Ford’s outstretched hand’s were mere inches away from Stanley’s wrists. Maybe if I go now, I could get to the sedative, and end this now!

“REALLY? THE HIGH AND MIGHTY DR. STANFORD FILBRICK PINES PhD TIMES TWELVE, BROUGHT SO LOW THAT HE’S BEGGING SOMEONE FOR SOMETHING? I NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE THE DAY!” Bill taunted “AND I NEVER THOUGHT YOUR DUMB BROTHER WOULD BE THE THING YOU’RE BEGGING FOR!” Bill laughed, smacking Stanley’s thigh with his broken arm as he did so. The cast clunked as it hit the brace on Stanley’s leg, and Bill laughed harder at the pain "THAT IS RICH I TELL YA FORDSY! BUT HEY, SINCE YOU’RE BEGGING AND ALL, YOU MIGHT AS WELL DO IT PROPERLY!” Bill placed one of Stanley’s injured fingers on Fords forehead and gave a weak push. Ford had no choice but to step back, further away from the demon wearing his brother’s skin and the syringe that could end the living hell Ford had to rescue Stan from. “WHY DON’T YOU TAKE A COUPLE OF STEPS BACK FORDSY? GIVE US SOME SPACE, AND KNEEL FOR US SIXER!” Bill cackled.

Ford hesitated. He couldn’t kneel to Cipher! He needed to stay on his feet, needed to get to that sedative, before Bill tried to throw Stanley’s body down the stairs across the hall, or something even worse. And even though he wouldn’t admit it to himself, a small part of Ford felt repulsed at the idea of showing any sort of subservience to the triangular demon, for any reason. Ford was long past the days he thought Bill was worth any sort of praise.

Bills smile twisted sinisterly. “WELL, THAT’S A SHAME THAT IS. YOU CAN’T EVEN BEG FOR YOUR OWN BROTHER’S LIFE PROPERLY! BUT HEY, WE BOTH KNOW YOU DON’T REALLY LOVE THIS GUY SIXER! YOU JUST WANNA PLAY THE HERO LIKE ALWAYS, DON’T YOU? BE THE BETTER BROTHER AGAIN, RIGHT?” Bill scoffed. “BUT REALLY, THIS GUY ISN’T WORTH YOUR PITY. YOU CAN DROP THE ACT FORDSY, IT’S JUST US TWO OLD FRIENDS HERE!” Bill rolled his eyes in disdain and absently waved Stanley’s hand around, gesturing vaguely towards the ceiling with Stanley’s dislocated fingers. “WELL, STAN IS FLOATING AROUND HERE TOO, BUT HE’S A LITTLE, ‘OUT OF ORDER’ AT THE MOMENT, IF YOU CATCH MY DRIFT.” Bill laughed, lower and more sinisterly than normal. The demons words alarmed Ford. What could he mean by that? Bill reached over and grabbed another one of Stanley’s fingers.

Ford’s heart leapt straight into his throat, almost choking him as he desperately cried out to the demon “WAIT!” Ford held his hands up and dropped to his knees, looking up at Bill. “Wait. Please, I’m kneeling Bill. I am kneeling and I am begging you to leave Stanley alone.” Ford watched in trepidation as Bill eyed him with an unreadable look on Stanley’s face. A familiar feeling of unease settled in Ford’s stomach. He could remember the days when Stanley and him had been able to read each others faces like open books. Ever since Ford had been brought home, that bond had been achingly absent despite Ford’s attempts to ignore that feeling of loss, but it was the times when he would look at Stanley and not be able to read anything off of him that Ford felt the absence of that connection the most. This time was a thousand times worse than all the other times though. “Please, just give me my brother back, Bill.”

Bill laughed. “THIS IS PATHETIC SIXER! YOU SOUND JUST LIKE STANLEY HERE DID WHEN WE MADE OUR DEAL LAST NIGHT.”

Ford blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Bill groaned “STAN’S MINDSCAPE HAS BEEN STUCK ON ONE PARTICULAR MEMORY SINCE HIS HILARIOUS LITTLE ACCIDENT. SOME DUMB THING WITH THE TWO OF YOU ON THAT BEAT UP OLD BOAT. HE KEPT IGNORING ME WHEN HE THOUGHT THE TWO OF YOU WERE STILL BUDDY-BUDDY, AND HIS MINDSCAPE IS SO MUDDLED THAT IT TOOK ME AWHILE TO DREDGE UP A DIFFERENT MEMORY TO STICK HIM IN. BUT BOY, WAS IT WORTH IT! IT TOOK BARELY A MINUTE BEFORE STANLEY WAS BEGGING ME ‘I WANT MY BROTHER BACK, PLEASE, JUST GIVE ME MY BROTHER BACK.” Bill mocked. “AND, AS A BONUS, THAT MADE HIM START FREAKING OUT OUT HERE. NOW THAT WAS A GREAT SHOW!”

Ford gaped up at Bill. “What memory did you-did you put Stanley in?” Ford knew Stan had gone to jail before, and a vague memory having to do with the trunk of a car poked the corners of his brain. He had no idea what could have been so bad, so terrible, to make Stanley react the way he did.

Bill smirked at Ford, leered at him down on the ground. The blood running down Stanley’s face had increased, and had started to drip off of his chin. The crimson droplets fell all the way down to the floor, landing on the blanket Mabel had knit. The grey wool of the sailboat absorbed the blood, turning a murky, ugly color. “I JUST TOOK HIM BACK TO THE WORST NIGHT OF HIS LIFE FORDSY.” Bill said in a manner-of-fact tone. “THE NIGHT HE GOT KICKED OUT AND STARTED LIVING IN HIS CAR.” Bill held Fords gaze for a moment, yellow against brown, before he wrenched Stanley’s finger backward. There was a sickening ‘snap’ along with the horrible ‘pop’, and Bill laughed hysterically as Ford cried out in desperation “STOP IT!”

“OH MAN OH MAN OH MAN, I THINK I BROKE THAT FINGER AND DISLOCATED IT AT THE SAME TIME! I’VE NEVER DONE THAT BEFORE SIXER, NOT EVEN WITH YOU!” Bill wiped a mirthful tear off of Stanley’s face, smearing the blood from Stanley’s head wound. He grabbed another one of Stanley’s fingers, smiling with cruel glee.

“PLEASE BILL, PLEASE!” Ford screamed at the demon, tears filling his eyes again. His hands smacked the ground, fingers spread wide. “LEAVE HIM ALONE!!” Ford couldn’t look up at the demon anymore, couldn’t bare to see those yellow eyes in his brothers face. He bowed his head, screwed his eyes shut, and tried to look as submissive as possible. Ford clenched his teeth, holding back a sob. He felt so useless! The only reason Stanley was in this mess in the first place was because of Ford and his research and his stubborn pride. Ford had to play along with Bill’s sick game until he could get the sedative, and hopefully that would work. If he had to kneel and beg, he would kneel and he would beg. For Stanley.

“HMM, YOU KNOW, THAT’S A REALLY CONVINCING ARGUMENT STANFORD.” Bills voice dripped with sarcasm. “I THINK I’M ACTUALLY GONNA LISTEN TO YOU AND LEAVE THIS WORTHLESS WASTE OF SPACE YOU CALL A BROTHER.” Ford’s hands clenched into fists on the ground as Bill insulted Stanley again, but he forced himself not to react. There was a tense pause. “HAHA, JUST KIDDING! WE BOTH KNOW I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE UNTILL I GET WHAT I WANT FORDSY!” Bill said in a sing-song tone, swinging Stanley’s good leg back and forth to beat out a solemn rhythm on the side of the hospital bed.

“The Rift.” Ford breathed out, eyes snapping open to stare at the hospital floor. Of course that was what this was all about. Bill was holding Stanley hostage in order to get the Rift. Ford’s stomach dropped in despair.

“DING DING DING, YOU GOT IT IN ONE TRY!” Bill mockingly cheered, clapping Stanley’s injured hands together. Ford felt nauseous when he saw the angles Stanley’s finger were bent at. “NOW, HERE’S WHAT WE’LL DO. I’LL PLAY COMATOSE FOR A BIT WHILE YOU RUN HOME AND GET THE RIFT! WE TRADE OFF, ONE TEAR IN THE VERY FABRIC OF SPACE FOR ONE USELESS BROKEN OLD MEAT-SACK, AND THEN WE’LL CALL IT A DAY! HOW’S THAT SOUND FORDSY, DO WE HAVE A DEAL?” Bill offered Ford a handshake with Stanley’s mangled hand, a smug, self-confident grin on his stolen face.

“No.” The word barely made it out of Ford’s mouth, but it still stung and burned his throat as he forced himself to say it. “You can’t have the Rift.” Ford knew he was condemning his brother to further torture, and every molecule he was comprised of protested. But if Bill got the Rift, Stanley, as well as everyone else in Fords home dimension, would be as good as dead. Ford knew he could force Bill out of his brother’s body, he knew that this was the right decision, the only decision that could be made. But that didn’t stop him from hating himself for it.

“HMM.” Bill hummed contemplatively, and Ford felt his heart stop and his blood run cold. He had been expecting Bill to rage, and more than likely make Stanley suffer more. Ford had been hoping that Bill would get so angry he could make a dash for the sedative. Now, he froze to the ground, terrified of what Bill had planned for Stanley. “WELL THEN,” Bill pulled Stanley’s hand back and leaned closer to Ford. Ford sat up higher, leaning back on his heels, his face less than a foot away from where Bill’s eyes shone out of Stanley’s face. “WHAT IF I SWEETEN THE DEAL?”

“What?” Ford’s voice cracked as he spoke. The knowing smile Bill had twisted onto his brothers face was unnerving, and his yellow eyes were far too close.

“Y’SEE FORDSY, THE PHSICAL WORLD THAT YOU’RE PART OF TIES DIRECTLY INTO THE MINDSCAPE. IT HAS A LOT MORE INFLUENCE ON MY DOMAIN THAN I’VE LET ON BEFORE.” Bill voice took on a tone that Ford remembered him using back when they were working on the Portal together. It was candid, with a touch of condescension that had always slightly irked Ford back then, but he had ignored it in favor of learning from what he had considered a muse at the time. Now, it sent unpleasant chills down Fords spine. “STANLEY TOOK A HUGE HIT TO THE HEAD, AND ALL THE TRAUMA TO HIS BRAIN HAS REALLY DONE A NUMBER ON HIS MINDSCAPE. THAT, PLUS ALL THE DRUGS THAT ARE PUMPING INTO HIS FLESHY MEAT-SACK BODY,” Bill waved Stan’s arm, straining the IV lines further and causing blood to bubble up on Stanley’s arm where they were inserted. “LEAVES STANNY HERE A PRIME CANDIDATE FOR SOME MUCH NEEDED...REWIRING, YOU COULD CALL IT.” Bill gave Ford a sly grin.

Confusion swirled through Ford for a moment, before the full implications of what Bill was saying crashed down on Ford with the force of an asteroid careening through Earth’ s atmosphere and landing on him. A small, choked gasp wheezed out of Ford. Pure panic clouded his thoughts, turning them into a jumble of not possible, can’t be true, need to save Stanley, what has he done, and leaving him frozen in place. “You didn’t...” Ford coughed out, horrified at what he might hear.

“DON’T WORRY, I HAVEN’T DONE ANYTHING YET!” Bill said “I WOULD NEED TO MAKE A DEAL WITH SOMEONE TO HAVE ENOUGH POWER TO RESHAPE A HUMAN’S MIND AND PERSONALITY.” He smacked Stanley in the head with the cast again. “EVEN WHEN IT’S AS SCREWED UP AS THIS ONE IS. SO!” Bill clapped Stanley’s hands together in excitement. “YOU HAND ME THE RIFT, I GIVE YOU A NEW-AND-IMPROVED TWIN!”

“...new-and-improved...” Ford murmured numbly. This was worse than he could have imagined. Bill was in Stanley’s head, and worse than that, Bill could...he could...alter Stanley’s mind and personality. Bill could rewrite the core of his brothers being, his very soul.

All he needed was someone to make a deal with him.

And Bill thought Ford would want-would be the one to-his own brother-

“SOUNDS PRETTY GREAT, DOESN’T IT?” Bill said eagerly, leaning closer to Ford with a conspiratorial look on his face. “WHAT DO YOU WANT DONE? YOU TWO ARE ALWAYS FIGHTING, SO I BET YOU’D LIKE HIM TO BE MORE SUBMISSIVE. I CAN FIX HIS SENSE OF HUMOR TOO, MAKE IT MORE YOUR STYLE. I CAN MAKE HIM LIKE THAT NERDY GAME YOU THINK IS SO GREAT. AND I KNOW YOU HATE THE MYSTERY SHACK, SO WE CAN HAVE STANNY HERE SHUT THAT DOWN EASY-PEASY. OH! I CAN EVEN MAKE HIM SMARTER, BELIEVE IT OR NOT!” Bill leaned back, throwing Stanley’s arms wide and finally managing to rip the IV lines out of Stanley’s arm. Blood spurted, landing all over the knit blanket on the floor. Bill didn’t notice. “THE SKY IS THE LIMIT FORDSY! YOU CAN MAKE THE TWIN BROTHER YOU ALWAYS WANTED! WHADDAYA SAY? DO WE HAVE A DEAL?” Bill held Stanley’s hand out to Ford again.

Stanley’s mangled hand hung in front of Ford’s face. He looked at it, and his eyes trace up Stanley’s arm, past the fingers that were sticking out at odd angles, the blood that was dribbling down his arm and dripping onto the blanket, and Ford focused on Stanley’s face. Not the lurid yellow eye’s with slit-like pupils, not the too wide, unnerving grin, but the ghost of a six-knuckled bruise on his jaw. The bruise Stanley had gotten because he was stubborn, and unwilling to listen to reason, and loyal to a fault, and for some reason he though that Ford was worth more than an entire dimension. The horror Ford had felt at Bill’s talk of remaking Stanley ignited into rage. Ford pushed himself off of his knees.

“No.” This time he said it firmly, his voice stronger than it had been during the whole cursed conversation with Bill.

Bill looked affronted “NO? YOU’RE TURNING DOWN AN OFFER LIKE THIS? YOU GIVE ME ONE MEASLY TEAR IN THE FABRIC OF REALITY, AND I GIVE YOU THE PERFECT TWIN BROTHER, A ONCE IN A LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY, AND YOU’RE TELLING ME NO!?” Bill growled out the last word.

“I would never agree to doing something like that to anybody, no matter the circumstances!” Ford growled back, fists clenched at his sides. “I’ll never hand the Rift over to you, and I’ll never take your deal for the ‘perfect twin’” He spat the words out like they were venom. “All I want is to have my brother back!”

Bill was silent for a moment, then he let out a derisive snort and forced Stanley’s body to stand. He swayed for a moment, distressing Ford, before he found his balance, standing with most of his weight on Stanley’s left leg. Ford saw his chance to grab the sedative. “WRONG CHOICE SIXER.” Bill snarled.

Ford dove around Stanley’s right side, aiming to vault the bed, but Bill lifted Stanley’s broken arm, and Ford’s face collided with the hard plaster cast. Ford reeled back, stunned, and Bill staggered, but managed to keep Stanley’s body upright. Ford recovered first, diving onto the bed and reaching for the sedative.

“WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?” Stanley’s cast clipped the side of Ford’s head, spinning him around. His fingertips clipped the edge of the tray holding the sedative, tipping it over onto the bed. A bony knee pressed down onto Ford’s stomach, and Ford instinctively curled his hand into a fist, pulled it back, and-

-he dropped the fist as quickly as he had made it. Don’t hurt Stanley! Ford put his hands again Stanley’s chest and started to push-

-until he felt the broken ribs. He couldn’t do anything to defend himself without hurting Stanley!

“WHAT’S THE MATTER FORDSY? AFRAID OF HURTING YOUR IDIOT BROTHER?” Bill laughed over Ford, and reached for his throat with Stanley’s right hand. “HEY! THIS’LL MAKE A GREAT STORY FOR THE NEWS! ‘STAN PINES WAKES FROM COMA JUST TO MURDER HIS BROTHER AND JUMP OFF THE ROOF’!” The dislocated and broken fingers meant Bill had to press the heel of Stanley’s hand against his wind pipe, forcing Ford’s head down and back, the top of it pressing into the mattress.

Ford struggled to breath, and already darkness started to encroach upon his vision. Upside-down, Ford was able to see the syringe. Clumsily, with his sight dimming and everything starting to go fuzzy, Ford wrapped one hand around Stanley’s forearm, and with the other he snagged the syringe, miraculously without stabbing himself with the needle. With a strangled gasp, Ford plunged the needle into Stanley’s forearm.

For a moment, nothing happened. Everything around Ford faded to a murky blur, with the bright yellow of Bill’s eyes staying vibrant. The word’s I’m sorry, Stanley echoed through Ford’s head.

Then, Stanley’s arm buckled. Ford gasped, sucking in a desperate breath of air. Above him, Bill was resting Stanley’s forearm on Ford’s chest, the syringe sticking out of it. Ford could feel blood soak into his sweater. “WHAAT WAS THA SHTUFF?” Bill slurred, blinking and shaking Stanley’s head back and forth. His yellow eyes got hazy and half-lidded, and Bill struggled to keep Stanley’s body upright. “YOU THINK THISH IS OVER SSHIXER? WON’ BELON’ FOR I’M BACK STANFERD. GONNA MAKE ‘NOTHER DEEL SHOON, ‘NTHEN I’LL GET TH’ RIFT. YER GONNA SLIP UP, N’ WHEN YA DO...” Bill struggled to say more, but Stanley’s body finally gave out, succumbing to the drug, collapsing on top of Ford. “UUUGHHHnnn...” Bill gave a final groan, his voice fading out and Stanley’s deeper, more gravely voice filled Ford’s ears. The yellow faded from Stanley’s eyes as they slid shut.

Ford lay on the bed for a moment, stunned and trying to catch his breath. Stanley rested on top of him, unmoving. With a sudden jolt, Ford remembered all of Stanley’s injuries, and his IV’s needed to be reinserted, and his breathing tube was- Stanley’s breathing tube was out!

As quickly as he could without being too rough on his brother’s battered body, Ford wormed out from underneath him. Ford checked Stanley’s breathing quickly, and was relieved to find a trickle of air passing through his brother’s lips, though it was weak and irregular. Ford felt bile rise in his throat as he redid the restraints around Stanley’s wrist and ankles, but he couldn’t let the hospital staff know what had really happened. At best Ford could see them removing him from Stanley’s room, and at worst they would retain him on suspicions of mental instability. Neither was a viable option.

Ford carefully relocated and set Stanley’s injured fingers, which were swelling and turning lurid shades of blue and purple and green. Stanley’s arm was still bleeding, so Ford peeled his new sweater off and wadded it around Stanley’s arm. Before leaving he retrieved the button-down from the bathroom and threw it on, only doing up a few buttons as he sped out of the hospital room. Stanley was the only patient in the ICU, and there wasn’t a doctor or nurse in sight.

Ford skidded out of the ICU, swinging his trench coat on. He made it down two more hallways before almost literally running into a pair of doctors.

After some shouting and overly excited arm waving, Ford was able to rush the doctors into Stanley’s room. Luckily for Ford, his frantic behavior discouraged the doctors from asking too many questions. While one doctor tended to Stanley, the other insisted on looking at Ford’s bruising face. Not for the first time, Ford’s nose had been broken, although this was the first time Ford had been injured by Stanley’s hand.

At a request from Ford, the blanket and sweater Mabel had knit were taken and washed quickly. He couldn’t bare to think of Mabel seeing that the gifts she had made for Stanley and him were missing. One of the doctors, with the help of a nurse he had brought in, jury-rigged a restraint for Stanley’s broken arm.

After Ford was left alone with Stanley again, he collapsed into his chair. Ford couldn’t take his eyes off of his brothers face, which was slack and relaxed now, a contrast to the manic grin Bill had forced onto his face.

Ford sighed, hanging his head. Bill had possessed Stanley. It was something Ford hadn’t considered a possibility before, and now because of his short-sightedness, Bill had manipulated his brother, tormented him both physically and mentally.

And then, there was the...rewiring Bill had talked about. Simply thinking about what Bill was suggesting made Ford feel terrified. More than that, it made Ford feel completely helpless. Ford could protect Stanley physically- though he had already failed at that-but there was nothing Ford could do to protect Stanley in his own mind!

All Bill needed was a deal.

It didn't matter who he made it with.

And Ford would lose his brother again, but this time, there would be no possible way to get him back.

“Oh Stanley, what are we going to do?” Ford sighed. Unsurprisingly, Stanley didn’t answer.

Ford stood and paced, trying to think of a plan, a course of action, anything! But the only thoughts that filled his head were of Bill, poking around in Stanley’s mind, scrambling it, reshaping it, remaking his brother into someone he wasn’t, and the knowledge that Bill could be doing so at that very moment. If there was any food in Ford’s stomach, it would have come up again. He couldn’t think, there were too many thoughts swirling through his head. Ford longed for one of his Journals, just so he could have some way to organize his thoughts! At the thought of his Journals, a small plan started to form. He would have to work fast, and he needed to look through his Journals first, but maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance to fix things. But first he needed to get his Journals, and he couldn’t wait till morning.

The door clicked open, and Ford whirled to face it. A young nurse walked in, holding Stanley’s blanket and Ford’s sweater, freshly cleaned. She started at Ford’s behavior, but she quickly relaxed and gave Ford a kind smile.

“Here you go sir.” She held the knit items out to Ford, and he snatched them out of her hands with a murmur of thanks. Ford gently draped the blanket over Stanley, feeling a twinge of painful nostalgia when he saw the sailboat again. He quickly turned back to the young nurse, catching her attention before she left.

“Excuse me, miss? I need to use a phone. And a phone book.”

The nurse lead Ford to the desk just outside of Stanley’s room. Ford felt immediate unease leaving Stanley alone, but it was necessary.

It took Ford far too long to find the number for the Ramirez household, and even longer for him to get the exhausted Soos on the other end of the line to give him the number of Wendy’s cellular phone. Then it took him two tries before Wendy responded.

“Whotheflipisthisit’soneinthemorningIhopeyouhavelifeinsurancecauseI’mgonnashankyouwhenI’mconsciousyouflamingpieceof-”

“Wendy, it’s Dr. Pines.” Ford cut off her slurred, half-awake tirade.

“It’s one in the morning.” Wendy said flatly.

“Yes, I am aware of that-”

“Why’re you calling me at one in the morning old man?” Wendy growled into the phone, before giving a small gasp. “Did something else happen to Stan?”

Ford hesitated briefly before answering “No, Stan is fine. I need you to do me a favor. It’s urgent.”

On the other end of the line, Ford heard Wendy shifting around. “Okay. What do you need me to do at this ungodly hour Stan Two?”

Ford blinked, mildly surprised at her quick cooperation. He was about to request that she collect his Journals and bring them to him at the hospital, but he saw two looming flaws in that plan. One, the time it would take for the Journals to get to him, and two, he would have to leave Stanley alone if he were to put his plan into action.

“Hey, Stan Two, are you still there?” Wendy’s voice brought Ford out of his reverie.

“Yes. Wendy, I need you to listen to me, very carefully. This could help Stanley’s recovery, but speed is of the essence.” Ford carefully listed off everything he needed Wendy to do. Occasionally, Wendy would have him repeat something, and Ford could hear the sound of something scratching against paper on the end of the phone.

“Is that everything Doc?” Wendy asked.

“Yes. That should be all.” Ford said, running through everything in his head.

“Okay. I’ll get started on all of this...weird junk you need me to do. See you in a bit.”

“Wendy?” Ford stopped her from hanging up on him just yet. “Thank you. For helping me and my family with all of this.”

“Yeah. No prob, dude.” Wendy’s voice had a touch of concern to it. “Just hang in there.” She ended the call.

Ford returned to Stanley’s room, finally changing back into the sweater from Mabel. It was still warm from the wash. Then, he waited.

An hour passed.

Then two.

As the third hour passed, Ford was ready to tear the hospital room apart.

A knock came from the window, making Ford jump. He stalked over to it, cautiously peeking through the curtains. Wendy was perched outside of the hospital window. The fourth floor hospital window. Ford pulled the window open and Wendy slid inside. Instead of her typical Corduroy family flannel, she had on a dark tank top with a wolf on it and shorts, and she had a backpack slung over her shoulders.

“What were you doing out there?” Ford scolded her. “You could have fallen to your death!”

Wendy swung the backpack off and started rummaging through it. “Relax old man. I’ve been climbing trees higher than that since I was eight.”

“I don’t doubt your skill Wendy.” Ford said. “I would just prefer that no one else ends up in the hospital anytime soon.”

“Oh.” Wendy gave Ford an unreadable look. “Sorry, Dr. Pines. Visiting hours are closed right now. That was the only way I could get in.” She started to hand things to Ford; a small cloth sack with contents that clinked softly, several old mercury thermometers stolen from the Gravity Falls museum, photocopies of Journal 3 that Ford had found in his basement lab, a bottle of glue, a few tools Ford had picked up from other dimensions and, to Ford’s complete surprise, a small sandwich bag full of rainbow toned unicorn hair.

“How in the multiverse did you manage to get this?” Ford stared at the unicorn hair in wonder.

“Fairy Dust.” Wendy said shortly. “I’ll give you the whole story tomorrow. Or, y’know, when today feels like daytime.”

Ford winced apologetically. “I’m sorry that I had to wake you at this hour.”

Wendy shrugged her backpack on. “Eh, it’s cool dude. You’re just trying to help your brother. I know the feeling.” She gave him a small smile before slipping back out the window. Ford watched her make it safely to the ground before setting to work.

It took him around twenty minutes to bury the moonstones and mercury in the linoleum floor with the tools he had gotten from Dimension Z#’m, and another fifteen to glue the unicorn hair around the whole room, going up and around the door frame. It was far too much time.

Ford didn’t finish the barrier completely. Right next to Stanley’s bed, down near the floor, there was a tiny gap. Ford didn’t know if Bill was in Stanley’s mind or not, and he had to make sure that Stanley’s mind was free of the demon before he sealed the room. Ford moved his chair close to the head of Stanley’s bed and rifled through the copies of his Journal. With a satisfied hum, Ford found the page he was looking for. The incantation that would allow him to enter his brothers mind.

Ford reached out to place his hand on Stanley’s forehead, but he hesitated. What would he see in his brothers mind? If Bill was to be believed, Stanley’s mind was currently in a state of disarray. There was a chance that Ford could cause more damage in there than good. And, if he was being honest, Ford dreaded finding out just what his brother thought of him. Stanley must hate him by now. But if Ford did nothing, than Bill could-he could-

‘...MAKE ANOTHER DEAL SOON...YOU’LL SLIP UP AND WHEN YOU DO...NEW-AND-IMPROVED TWIN...MUCH NEEDED REWIRING...’ Bills sinister words came back to Ford. It didn’t matter if Stanley hated Ford, and Ford wouldn’t blame his brother at all if he never wanted to see him again after this. Stanley needed Ford’s help, not for him to turn away again!

Ford took a deep breath and placed his hand on Stanley’s forehead, carefully minding the fresh bandages and stitches, and read the incantation.

“Videntus omnium. Magister mentium.

Magnesium ad hominem. Magnum opus.

Habeas corpus! Inceptus Nolanus overratus!

Magister mentium! Magister mentium! MAGISTER MENTIUM!”

Everything faded to white.

#gravity falls #gravity falls au #precipice #precipice au #stan pines #grunkle stan #ford pines #grunkle ford #bill cipher #stangst #angst #possesion #sorta mind control?#more of a mental manipulation I guess #ouchie #poor stan #poor ford #screw you bill

83 notes · View notes

savetimeless · 8 years ago

Text

they told me that the end is near (we gotta get away from here)

inspired by my original post and @timelesstheories addition . . . @mockingjays-daughter also added they needed someone to write that and your wish is my command. i wasn’t sure which one you referred to, so i just kind of combined both the first and second point, and its not as dramatic as those points (which were fab btw), but to combine them i had to compromise a little.

hope you all enjoy!

read on ao3!

“After Bridget Bishop was hanged in June of 1692, eighteen others were convicted and killed,” Lucy explains as they walk through the town square. “Over 150 people were tried by the time they finished in 1693. And all because Elizabeth Parris and Abigail Williams pretended to have some fits. Y’know, ‘I saw Goody Proctor with the devil’, and all that.”

“Excuse me!”

Lucy is stopped forcefully by a woman walking by and pulling on her arm. Lucy gasps at the sudden motion, then rips her arm from the strong grip of the woman.

“You cannot say such things against the two young girls who first identified witches in this town!” The woman whispers harshly. “Why – only a witch herself would say such a thing!”

The woman gasps, as if in realization, sees the two men standing beside her, and then starts to shout.

“Witch! Witch!” The lady points at Lucy, and other people turn, stare and whisper amongst themselves.

“No, no,” Lucy assures. “I’m not a witch –“

The panic only grows, and before any of them can even realize what is going on, Lucy is being dragged away from them and to the court.

“Lucy!” Wyatt shouts after her. “Lucy!”

He goes to run after her, but Rufus grabs his arm. “No, Wyatt,” Rufus says firmly. “We need to be strategic about this.”

“It’s Lucy! We can’t – we can’t lose Lucy!” Wyatt shouts, gripping his hair. “Rufus I – I can’t lose Lucy.”

Rufus pauses, then grips Wyatt’s shoulder comfortingly. “We’ll get her back. I promise.

“Don’t make – “ Wyatt breathes in slowly, then out, letting his shoulders relax and determination cross his face. “Okay. Let’s get her back.”

By the time they actually devise a plan and get into the court room, Lucy isn’t there anymore.

Wyatt gets the attention of a passerby, and says, less calmly than he’d been hoping for, “Hey! What happened to the woman who was just tried?”

The woman trembles under his intense stare, and bows her head. “I am not sure, sir. I am just going in to the square, sir, to watch the execution, sir, it is mandatory, sir.”

Wyatt turns his gaze to Rufus, and the woman scurries away.

The breath is blown from his lungs as he says, “Rufus?”

Rufus, thank god, is staying much calmer than Wyatt is, and leads the way back to the square.

When they arrive, Rufus is out of breath at the pace Wyatt had set, but Wyatt can think of nothing but Lucy atop the platform, the noose being set around her neck, pleading, pleading, saying, “No, no, you don’t have to do this, please –“

He can hardly think straight, but he knows enough that he has to get to the front of crowd.

He pushes through, why are there so many people, and he can’t push through them fast enough and they’re about to pull the box –

Fuck. He knows what he’s going to do, and he doesn’t even care that its about the worst way he can go about fixing this situation, but it’s Lucy.

He pulls the gun from his jacket – his 2017 semi-automatic that really, really shouldn’t be here – and shouts, “Everybody down,” and shoots off several bullets into the sky.

Screams echo through the square, and people start to run – away from him, though, so he has a clear path to Lucy. But in the commotion the box has been pulled from beneath her feet; he tries to be calm, reminds himself that it’s alright, they only used short drops in this time, she’s only dying from strangulation which usually takes at least ten minutes in these situations – but really he gets stuck on the word strangulation and so is pretty fucking panicked.

He finally arrives, and leaps up the metre onto the platform they’ve had her on, but he hadn’t really thought that far ahead because he only has a pocketknife -

Her lips are blue and her eyes are bugged, and he’s never seen such sheer panic on her face before. He grabs her legs and lifts her up higher, and she takes a large gulp of air.

“Wy –“ Her voice is hoarse and scratchy and she can’t even finish saying his name.

“Don’t talk,” he instructs. Now she’s safe he can think a little clearer. Rufus appears shortly thereafter, and Wyatt tells him to get the pocketknife from his pocket.

Rufus cuts Lucy free, but sometime in between when he’d lifted her up and when Rufus had cut her free, she’d closed her eyes and fallen unconscious.

He lowers himself down, and gathers Lucy in his arms. He smooth’s her hair back and he knows he’s crying but he can’t really focus on bringing himself to stop, not when he’s so focused on her.

He dress is big and poofy and most definitely in way, and he’s suddenly reminded that she’s wearing a corset, and so quickly instructs Rufus to give him back the knife.

He cuts it off her, and Rufus helps him remove it from her body, the chemise still covering her.

He needs to feel for her pulse, but knows the veins in her neck are probably compromised. He presses chaste kisses to her cheeks, her eyes, her forehead, her nose, and then to her lips. He can feel her breath on his face, shallow and slow, but there.

Wyatt wipes his eyes, then reaches for her hand, feels for the pulse in her wrist; thready and slow, but also there. He’s so relieved he presses his lips to hers again.

He stands up, careful not to jostle her too much, then tells Rufus, “We need to get her back, now.”

Rufus hesitates. “But Emma –“

“Now, Rufus!”

When the Lifeboat lands, Lucy jolts awake, presumably from the nausea, because she leans forward to dry reach, but is snapped back but the straps.

Her hand comes up to rest at the base of her collarbone and she starts to cry noiselessly, her neck hurting from the injury, but also from the gagging and the jolt of the seatbelt.

Wyatt is quick to undo his straps, then he reaches for her. He doesn’t want to touch her head, incase the movement of it hurts her further (and honestly he’s a little worried about her spine), so he holds her hands and sooths her.

“Lucy, Lucy, it’s me, it’s Wyatt, you’re alright. You’re okay.”

She gags once more, inducing more tears, and his heart breaks. She opens her mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“No, no, don’t try to talk, alright?” He says, as calmly and quietly as possible. She’s probably in shock now, too, if the way her eyes can’t focus and her constricted pupils are anything to go by.

Wyatt turns his head to glare at Rufus, who is sitting numbly in the pilot seat but hasn’t moved. Wyatt is a little surprised that the roles have switched so dramatically from when Lucy was first taken.

“Open the fucking door, Rufus!” Wyatt’s voice is harsh, for which he’ll apologize later, but quiet, so it doesn’t shock Lucy.

The door creaks open, and Wyatt wants to be the one to undo her seatbelt, to help her out of the Lifeboat, but he doesn’t actually know the extent of her injuries, so he keeps her still and tells Rufus to get a doctor and a stretcher.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, Luce,” he says to her when she starts to breathe heavier. “We’re gonna get you out of here, alright. You just need to sit tight a little longer.”

She’s still crying heavily, and Wyatt feels tears in his own eyes at her pain and distress.

He continues to sooth her, careful to make sure she doesn’t move too much. It doesn’t take long for a doctor to climb in and take over, and Wyatt’s glad Rufus already told him the story because now he doesn’t have to protect her, his own throat is closing up from the panic of almost losing her.

Wyatt pushes past everyone and goes into a room by himself. His head in his hand, he lets himself feel every moment of panic, every second of fear, every inch of love that drives such intense emotion in him.

He knows enough about himself to know that this such intense fear stems from losing Jessica, but he also knows it wouldn’t be there if he didn’t love Lucy in the same way.

He wipes his eyes and collects himself. It hasn’t been long, so he figures she’s probably still being checked out by the doctor, so he goes down to Costume and changes back into his normal clothes. Rufus is already there, and he looks completely shot.

Wyatt clears his throat awkwardly, and Rufus looks up.

“Uh, sorry about –“ Wyatt gestures around vaguely. “Before.”

Rufus shrugs. “Don’t worry about it. I get it. You need to protect her, ‘cuz you love her.”

Wyatt startles, and begins to deny. “No, that’s not –“ He realizes halfway through that he’s not really sure why he’s lying. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Rufus turns to him, curiosity on his face and in his eyes. “Does she know?”

Wyatt laughs once, dryly. “Sounds like a few people know.”

Rufus rolls his eyes. “Not what I asked. She deserves to her it from you.”

Rufus stands then, and claps Wyatt on the back as he walks by. “Maybe give her a bit of good news, today, huh?”

Rufus laughs at his own joke, which Wyatt doesn’t really think is funny, but Rufus just keeps walking so Wyatt doesn’t reply.

When he gets to the medical room, Lucy is hooked up to an IV and a cardiac monitor and has a neck brace on. Her eyes are open but hooded, but they open a bit wider when she spots him.

She can’t even try to open her mouth with the brace on, so she just smiles at him.

He smiles back, his emotions in check – he’s glad he had a bit of a cry before – and comes to sit by her in the chair.

“Hey,” he greets. “You gave me a bit of a scare.”

Her eyes crinkle and her lips turn down, which he takes to mean as I’m sorry. He laces his fingers through hers, and smooths his thumb over her skin.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers.

She closes her eyes peacefully, and he stays until her heart rate slows and she’s asleep, and then stays even after that.

Maybe he hasn’t told her he loves her, and maybe she doesn’t know, but he knows now, and at the moment that’s enough.

Send me prompts!

#timeless #timeless nbc #save timeless #timeless season 2 #fic #fan fiction #lyatt #lyatt fic #lucy preston #wyatt logan #rufus carlin

47 notes · View notes

tarnishedhalo · 8 years ago

Note

☪

Five Times Our Muses Almost Hold Hands, and the One Time They Do:

I. HollowHe’s sitting there, head down, ends of his hair spilling over his hands, and for the first time Riley notices they are darker than the rest of him. Years of oil and grease and wrenches have built up callouses but it’s built something else. Shadows of all the things those hands are capable of that no matter how much pumice-soap he scrubs with it doesn’t wash away. Only closer inspection shows that there’s more. Hints of rust under his nails…no. Rust is a different shadow of red. Rust doesn’t leave someone scourged and empty. Rust doesn’t cause shoulders to shake. Hesitantly, Riley reaches out and Baz pushes him away, shakes his head. Saying with actions he doesn’t need this.

Riley nods and grabs whiskey instead.

II. Two Man TeamThe rain was coming fast, hard and heavy. A storm brewed in the background, lighting striking haphazardly in the distance. But the thunder isn’t from crashing clouds. Riley holds up a fist. Holds up a finger. Then two. Makes a fist, and he’s moving. Low crouch, rifle braced shoulder high. Kevlar soundless. They move and breath as one. Riley doesn’t have the luxury of wondering how exactly he’d gotten here, on this Strike Team. It’s a by product of too many late nights spent worrying. It’s because Baz is transparent as glass. When the younger walks into a room and looks around before his blue eyes finally fall on him, Riley knows it’s gonna be an issue some day. Riley’s not stupid. He knows that look well. And he loves the guy, really he does. It’s just…just…. So this is the best he can do.

Rounding the corner, he scans through the scope. He reaches behind his back. Hand glances off the fucker’s wrist, just shy of his intended target. There’s no sound over the comms, but he feels his head duck forward as the fucker tags his helmet.“Got this. Laying down cover fire. Go.”

III. Paradox

It was the turkey sandwich that woke him up.

He stares at the unholy alliance of bread, turkey, lettuce and cheese, thinking I’m stuck. Stuck in this perpetually shifting span of time, in which the same day is repeated over and over again. Like Groundhog Day which was a stupid movie. Only worse because time was actually continuing to move forward. Mondays became Tuesdays which turned into Wednesdays. Months still passed by synonymously with the changing of seasons. Children grew into adults. Adults still sank in their depression.Yet the events that occurred in each individual day were exactly the same. Every day Riley would wake up and go to work. He’d be stuck with the same case as the day before and the day before that. Then he’d eat lunch with people who talked in a language he did not understand. Then he goes home to a world that chooses not to understand. Sleep.

Rinse and repeat.But that turkey sandwich. Something inside of him had gone missing. The anger rises in response. He was sick of the sandwich. Sick of the watery-crunch sound the lettuce made when he chewed it. Sick of the cheese. Sick of soggy bread that almost dissolves in his mouth. The same thing he’s eaten for years now.

He averted his gaze and looked around. He saw fellow cops sitting at the same tables, wearing the same clothes, conversing with the same people about the same things. Amidst the sea of voices he could make out snippets of conversations he’d heard countless times before. All the meaningless gossip and small talk wrapped around his brain.His head begins to throb furiously, a circuit board overloading with too much data. Squeezes his eyes shut only to see the sickening mirrors reflecting infinity on the back of his eyelids. It was like someone had put the feeling of deja vu in liquid form and shot it through his veins. He gets up and sprints.

In the men’s room, there’s silence. He looks at himself in the mirror and his reflection stares back, seemingly surprised by direct-eye contact.“Are you done yet?"What?”“Are. You. Done. Yet?”“I don’t know what you’re talking-”

The mirror splinters in cobweb fragments.

He only just manages to throw his arm up to shield his face.

“"Fa'fuc'sake s'only a'sandwich, asshole. Don'want it? Don'eat it.”

If Baz only knew. His first instinct to grab the kid’s hand, make sure he’s real. But that’s a whole lot of crazy he doesn’t want to get into, because how do you explain Quiet, a mage’s version of metaphysical time-out for bad behaviour?

He eats the sandwich.

IV. Six

“Be there n'six”The last thing B says to him. He wonders, after six minutes has passed, if the shithead meant six hours, but somehow that couldn’t be right. He doesn’t remember there being a job out of town.

An hour later and he’s worried. Calls his cell, sends texts, wonders what else he could do. The worst part about it, Riley broke his word. Long distance knocking around the castle walls, even though he promised he wouldn’t. But the gates are all shut up, the windows bricked up and despite the power he commands, he can’t find a way inside.

And that sparks a wildfire of well…not jealousy exactly. Nor anger.

Hurt, asshole, the word your looking for is…hurt.Normally sleepers have little resistance to his magick, though Baz isn’t technically a sleeper. Nor is he awakened. The best way he could put it was the kid’s a kind of sorcerer, and that’s not right either. It is what it is, but the point was…to get around Riley like he’s doing… SOMEONE has to have shown him how. And that someone isn’t Beth because she couldn’t will her way out of a wet paper bag without him knowing about it.

So that means Baz has been hanging out with someone else.

Someone who’s deliberately shutting Riley out.He paces his way through a half bottle of Glen Livet before he switches to Vodka.Two hours.Three.At this point Riley’s grabbing his keys and his jacket, mentally composing a missing persons report for his missing person, because the inner cop won’t let this shit go.Throws the door open and there’s a strange collision of puffed up chests. There’s a spectacular display of juggling as the plastic sack hits the floor, ass over tea-kettle, though Baz manages to retain his grasp on the bottle, because of course he has priorities.

“‘Y'fuckin’ kiddin’ me? S'fuckin’ dinner, jackass.”The words don’t matter. Riley grabs his hands, and then takes it a step further by dragging the fucker into a hug, arms like vices around his neck and shoulders.

“Next time, fucking call.”

This is how Baz discovered Riley doesn’t do surprises well.

V. HettiquetteRiley’d heard, knew Beth and Jay went to these kinds of things in support of their friends, but it’s goddamn fascinating. Like if someone took Carnival and mated it with Mardi-Gras and somehow incubated the result inside of a Vegas Strip floor show. It was absolutely mesmerizing. And there’s a lot he didn’t inspect. There’s a man and his wife not far away, a group of teenagers. A couple wearing 'Theirs’ and 'Theirs’ tee-shirts that he makes a mental note to ask about later.

And Riley has to wonder if he’s even got a right to be here, that maybe his attempt to offer B moral support isn’t actually having the opposite effect, even if he laughed in his very Baz way over the 'Not Gay but my Boyfriend is’ shirt. Beth had given him one piece of advice before they separated for the day.

“No dare aks wen Straight Pride is. Jus’…no. If ya do… no gonna be let out of da hale wi'out woke adult supervision, yeah? An’ wha'evah ya do…no embarrass. If I hear ya make him uncomfortable….I will make YOU uncomfortable.”Then she vanished into sequins and feathers and flower crowns.She hadn’t needed to warn him.

Despite everything that marks him as out of place, the people are welcoming. They’re warm and beautiful and the beer flows. Sees a couple people he would never have thought ought to be here. The only awkwardness is when he comes across Wojakovitz. Riley’s not usually intimidated but the rookie is six foot seven and about as wide across. Apparently, his partner…boyfriend… is a school teacher at PS 182. Good on them.At some point, in the bar later, Riley’s managed to hit his limit, and teeters his way over to Baz whose been strangely quiet most of the night, more so than usual. Arm around the younger’s shoulder, Riley leans down and lays his cheek atop Baz’s head.“C'mon asshole. Dance with me. This is a good song.”The look he gets from both of them would have curdled paint.

He asks twice more in variations.

Twice more he’s rebuked.So he sits down next to B and his hand falls to the other’s side. Trying not to make an issue of it, one pinkie curls around Baz’s and then Baz is up and muttering something about hitting the head.“Did I…say something wrong?”No one answers him. Not even his sister.

VI. The Hang of Thursdays

“Pick sum’m else dickhead. Shit’s kill yer dog depressin’.”

There’s a point where his face is pale and haggard, where lack of sleep has left him looking five days dead on a three day weekend, and the next line of the song stutters into a choking breath. He doesn’t imagine it, Baz’s mouth had moved, had formed the words and it’s stolen all of the oxygen from Riley’s brain. He doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry or …there was a phrase for this, they used to call it 'don’t know if he should shit or go blind’.

His hands tighten around the fucker’s, careful not to dislodge the IV shunt.It’s a process. Rough palms sliding against each other. Long, blunt fingers seeking the crevices between the other’s hand. The grasp is as tight as he can make it, a warning that if Baz slips out of consciousness, he’s dragging Riley’s two hundred and five pounds with him.Baz’s scarred and battered knuckles are brought up, pressed against Riley’s lips. They’re dry and chapped but gentle as Riley bows his head over their joined hands. It takes him long minutes to compose himself enough to actually speak.

“You EVER scare me like that again, fucker, and I will beat your ass into the fuckin’ ground. You hear me?”He doesn’t mean a word of it.His eyes squeeze shut, lines spiraling around the corners and for the first time since they’d gone and recovered Baz Barton, he can breathe.What he can’t do is let go.

#Thanks!B #Snarky and Clutch: The BroTP #Clutch| Baz Fucker Barton #BvO #The Man in the Black Hat|Answered Asks #lilxlionxman

4 notes · View notes