#so ive removed his left arm from below the elbow

[aro-ortega]

i have decided to remove one of otso's arms, hes an amputee now

[craziest-in-the-guild]

Point Rain

Chapter 3 of the Long Night series

Word Count: 5251

C/W: 18+ Description of severe injuries; medical treatments. Sex, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m and f giving/receiving), cream pie. Alcohol use.

A/N: Thank you all for reading this far! This one picks up on the action, both on the battlefield and behind closed doors. I did use vod in a way that I'm not quite sure is correct, feel free to leave notes on that for me to reference in the future. Hope everyone enjoys it!

_______________________________________________________

The assault on Geonosis was being initiated to regain control of the planet and destroy the new droid factory. Generals Skywalker, Mundi, and Kenobi were leading a three pronged attack in hopes that the factory could easily be taken.

Our forces were under fire as soon as we launched. The noise from the laser blasts, other ships, and our own gunship was excruciatingly loud. I put a hand to my helmet in discomfort.

“Here, let me help you adjust the sound filtering,” came the modulated voice beside me. Rex took my helmet, adjusted something and handed it back.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, much, now I can hear myself think,” I laughed nervously. The sound filtering had dampened the blasts and roar of the gunship.

The gunship beside us was hit several times by cannon fire and exploded, rocking our ship. I could feel my heart rate speeding up and I tightened my hold on the grab bar above.

Our ship was the next to be struck by a blast, causing it to lurch sideways. I lost my balance and fell into Rex. I quickly returned to a standing position and he placed one arm around my waist to help me brace. I could see smoke and flames streaming past the side door. The pilot yelled over the comm for everyone to brace themselves; we were going down.

The ship picked up speed as we hurled towards the ground. We struck hard, enough to knock the breath out of me. Once the burning hunk of metal came to a stop, I scanned quickly to see if everyone was ok. No one was down and we all evacuated.

“Are you good, Doc?” Rex yelled over the noise.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just a little shaken!” I yelled back, ducking as laser blasts flew overhead.

“Draw your blaster and stay with Fives, Jesse, and Tup, I’m going with the General and Commander.”

“MEDIC! Man down!” cracked across the comms. That didn’t take long.

“What’s your location?” Jesse asked.

The injured clone was close, so we diverted to his location. His vod had dragged him behind a rock outcropping for cover. He had been hit with three blaster bolts to his left arm.

“I can’t move my arm,” he said frantically.

There was little bleeding from the wounds. I removed his armor and cut the sleeve of his blacks to get a better look. His radial pulse was strong, a good indication that no major circulation had been disrupted. I wrapped the injuries with bacta impregnated dressings.

“Clankers incoming!” Jesse yelled. Tup pushed me further behind the rock outcropping just in time to dodge a blaster bolt that ripped through the rock where we had been standing.

I drew my blaster and we both peeked around the edge of the rock. I had a clear shot at a few droids, so I took it, taking out three of them. Tup congratulated me.

Overhead, a severely damaged gunship streaked by, hit the ground, and rolled, coming to a rest not far from our position.

Tup and I ran to Fives as he and Jesse fired on the last of the droids. We advanced towards the gunship crash site.

As we approached, we could hear the screams of pain. Called over comms for additional medics and a tank for evacuation. There were none available, everyone had suffered heavy personnel and equipment loss.

A trooper approached, pointing me in the direction of an injured brother.

“Is anyone else alive?” I inquired.

“I don’t think so, sir,” he said.

I reached the trooper and swiftly pulled my backpack off, reaching for two tourniquets. One leg had been fully amputated just above the knee and the other leg was partially amputated below the knee. Blood was pouring from both legs.

“Fucking hell,” I muttered.

“Jesse, I’m going to need you to help me so he doesn’t bleed out. Put this one on the left leg and I’ll take the right leg.”

I slid the tourniquet on and yanked the strap tight before cranking the windlass. The trooper screamed in pain.

“I know it hurts, but it’s going to save your life,” I said.

Jesse and I both got our tourniquets secure and the bleeding quickly stopped. I dressed what was left of his legs with two large bacta trauma dressings.

Next, I pulled out a syringe filled with pain medicine.

“This is going to help the pain, but make you sleepy. We’re going to get you out of here. You’re going to be ok,” I assured him. I removed his helmet and his skin was pale, clammy, and cool. His carotid pulse was thready. I pulled the IV kit out and started a like in his jugular vein. This would have been a great time to have blood or plasma, but fluids and bacta would have to suffice.

“Jesse, he’s going to need evaced now or he’s not going to make it.”

“I’ve already called for them to come get him, they finally have a tank in the area and it should be arriving any minute,” he said.

I hadn’t looked up from my patient until now. I wish I hadn’t. A couple meters away laid a trooper that had been completely transected. I continued scanning the area, seeing dead trooper after dead trooper.

My concentration was broken by the sound of moaning. I got up and started searching for the origin. I found a trooper who’s arm had been completely amputated and a large piece of metal debris was crushing his lower half. Judging by the amount of blood on the ground, he was close to exsanguination. I knew there was no saving him. I removed his helmet and was surprised to find he was still semi-conscious. His carotid pulse was barely palpable and his chest rise was short and shallow.

“Help….me...p..p..please,” he pleaded, in between gasps for air.

“I will, don’t worry. It’s going to be ok.”

I pulled out another syringe of pain killer and injected his neck, in hopes of easing his transition to the next world. I removed my helmet so that the last things he would see would not be cold, unfeeling plastoid. I held his head on my lap and gently stroked his hair watching his honey colored eyes struggle to stay open. A few seconds passed and his eyes closed and his chest was still.

I felt a hand under my elbow, pulling me up.

“C’mon, Doc, there’s more of my vod that will need you,” Fives urged in a somber tone.

For hours, Fives, Jesse, and Tup took me from injured trooper to injured trooper, dodging and fighting the clankers and bugs. I was exhausted and covered in blood and dirt and vomit.

“Rex needs us to join up with General Skywalker, he needs help taking down the wall,” Fives said. “It’s going to be tight in that gorge, so you need to keep your head down and stay right beside me.”

“Understood. Let’s go,” I replied.

__________________

General Skywalker’s forces were pinned down in the gorge by the laser blasts coming from numerous guns mounted on an insurmountable wall. It would need to be destroyed so that we could advance and meet the rest of our forces at Point Rain.

We took cover with the General, Commander, and Captain Rex. I was relieved to see that Rex was unharmed.

“Ahsoka and I will go to the top of the wall and destroy it from within. Rex, you and your men keep their attention down here,” General Skywalker ordered.

“Yes, sir!” Rex responded.

Rex came over to me.

“Are you doing ok?” he asked.

“Oh, you know, just living the dream,” I replied with a weak smile as I motioned to the mess on my armor.

“Good, stay here where it’s safe,” he ordered as he left cover to lead his men.

There were so many clones being shot down, but I could not reach them safely.

“Fire on the droids on top of the wall,” came Rex’s order over comm.

I looked out around the rocks I was behind to see General Skywalker and Commander Tano fighting the droids on top of the wall. The Jedi were mesmerizing to watch. I then noticed someone else had joined them. It was Rex.

“Take cover, the wall is about to blow!” He yelled over comms. Then I heard him scream. All I could see was three bodies falling from the top of the wall. The explosives detonated and I quickly took cover. I wondered if Rex had survived the fall.

As the smoke cleared, I noticed there were considerably less laser blasts. I started checking on the wounded troopers. There were very few survivors.

I patched up what injuries I could before we advanced.

After another intense firefight, we finally made it to General Kenobi’s position at Point Rain. The General was injured, but had already been given a bacta injection. I moved on to help load and evacuate the rest of the wounded.

I was kneeling, wrapping a trooper's head wound when I felt a presence behind me. It was Rex. I was relieved to see he was uninjured.

“I know there’s a lot to be done here, but we’re ready to move out and start the direct assault on the factory. We’re going to need you,” he said.

I finished securing the dressing.

“I need to restock my bag, but I’m ready,” I said wearily.

Rex reached out a hand to help me up. I took it, my aching joints thankful for the assistance. He led me over to two lifeless bodies.

Unfortunately, there had been two medics who had not survived. I hesitated next to them momentarily.

“Go ahead and resupply from what they have left. It’s all we have,” Rex said.

I took their supplies and got ready to move out.

_________________________

Unfortunately Rex was right, they did need me. General Skywalker led an assault straight to the front doors of the droid factory, in an effort to distract the droids while Commander Tano and another padawan destroyed the factory from inside. The plan worked, but it left many casualties in its wake.

I worked with the other medics well into the night. We were exhausted by the time the last gunship left.

I shuffled back to camp, in search of somewhere to rest. There were a number of fires with troopers sitting around them. Some groups were boisterous, others somber.

Then I saw him, sitting alone by a fire that was separated from the others. I made my way to Rex.

“This seat taken?” I asked

“Nope, sit down and rest,” he said as he patted the seat next to him. The seat being the ground with rocks to lean on.

“You look awful,” he said as he scrunched his face.

“You don’t look so great yourself,” I quipped.

Rex smirked.

“You’re no longer a shiny after today, but that doesn’t mean you need to be covered in blood and vomit, either,” he retorted.

He took me to the deconn area and helped me scrub away the reminders of the day.

“You had a busy first day.”

“Yes, too busy.”

I put my clean armor on and we returned to the fire. We sat in silence for what seemed like hours, watching the flames dance and listening to the cracking of the fire. I was somewhere between exhausted and unable to sleep. I had seen bad injuries in med bay, but nothing like I’d seen today. I needed time to process everything.

Rex touched my shoulder and I was jolted out of my spaced out state.

“C’mere,” he said, beckoning me to lean up against him. He removed his chest plate so I could rest directly on him and not on plastoid.

I was so tired that I didn’t hesitate. I sat down between his legs and snuggled into his chest. It was definitely better than laying on the ground.

_________________

He watched her stare at the fire blankly for some time. She was no doubt replaying the events of the day. She’d held her own, but he could see it had taken a toll. He knew the feeling all too well.

Rex wanted to comfort her; let her know she wasn’t alone. He wasn’t sure what possessed him, but he offered her to rest with him.

She came to him, laying her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. He wondered what it would be like to actually hold her without all the kriffing plastoid between them. She quickly fell asleep.

“Oh, cyar’ika,” he whispered into her hair.

————————————

The faint, pre-dawn light on my face was enough to wake me. I rubbed my eyes, trying to bring the blurry world into focus.

No one else was stirring, but I knew it wouldn’t be long. I thought it best that the Captain wasn’t caught snuggling the medic.

“Rex, Rex wake up,” I said quietly as I gently touched his face. His facial features were striking. His cheeks, chin, and jaw were perfectly defined. I held his face in my hand and ran my thumb over the slight stubble that had grown in.

“Hmmm?” He inquired.

“Rex, it’s nearly dawn, everyone will be awake soon.”

He squeezed me closer.

His voice was still gruff from sleep.

“Kriff. Better not get caught like this,” he rubbed his eyes and we both stood up. “We should be shipping back to the Resolute today. Do you want to, uh, meet me in my quarters later? We can debrief and, uh, have a drink.”

Rex looked a little sheepish, which was funny to me, since most of the time he was a brave, tough, clone.

“Yeah, that would be nice,” I smiled and left to see what needed to be done before departure.

——————————

We were back aboard the Resolute in the early evening, just in time for dinner. I sat with the boys, listening to them discuss how many clankers and bugs they killed. I hadn’t seen Rex since arriving on the ship. He was probably stuck in his quarters working on reports.

“I took out 70!” Fives boasted.

“Yeah? Well I took out at least 100, probably more!” Hardcase stood up and pretended to be firing his rotary blaster cannon.

I was sipping my caf and enjoying the banter.

“Did any of ya bother to ask our new medic how many clankers she took out?” Jesse asked.

“Oh, uh, well, it’s nothing compared to your counts,” I said, waving my hand dismissively.

“Tell us!!!” Hardcase coaxed.

“Ok, I took out...three.”

“Woooo! Hell yeah!” They all started cheering and giving me high fives.

“That’s pretty good for a shiny medic who’s not even trained for combat. Makes my heart proud,” Hardcase sniffled, pretending to wipe a tear.

“Doc ain’t shiny after that battle,” Fives pointed out.

“Sure isn’t. To Doc!” Hardcase said as he raised his glass in a toast.

Everyone followed and raised their glasses.

“To Doc!”

I smiled, raising my cup of caf.

“Welcome to the family, vod,” Fives said, slapping me on the back.

“Thank you, my vod,” I smiled. I knew what an honor it was to be considered one of their vod.

I caught something out of the corner of my eye and looked towards the mess hall entrance to see Rex standing in the hall, just far enough back from the mess entrance so that it was unlikely his men would see him. We made eye contact and he tilted his head, motioning me to come to his quarters. I could feel the butterflies stirring in my stomach.

I pushed back from the table. “Well boys, I’m going to hit the fresher and call it a night.”

————————————

I stopped at my quarters to grab a change of clothes to take with me. I hoped he would be fine with me using his shower. I had become quite attracted to him, but I was afraid if I delayed meeting him, I might lose my nerve.

I made my way to his door and rang the buzzer. He answered the door in just his blacks. I couldn’t help but notice how well they clung to him. It was nothing short of glorious.

“Would you like to come in, or are you going to stand in the hall all night?” He asked, breaking my trance.

“Yes, I’d love to come in. Can I use your shower?”

“You can. I’m going to finish up these reports while you shower.”

His fresher was much bigger and nicer than mine. I took off my armor and my dirty blacks and turned the water on. I was still grimy from the mission and eager to get clean.

The first drop of hot water touched my soul. I didn’t mind being on a mission, but not being able to shower was unpleasant. My hair was caked to my head, tangled, even though it had been braided. Thanks, helmet. The water at my feet ran grimy with dirt, sweat, and blood. I scrubbed until the water ran clean.

I dried off and reached for my clothes. I saw a robe hanging on the wall and changed my mind. My heart was racing and the butterflies returned as I stood there, thinking about wearing Rex’s robe, and only his robe.

“Be bold, you can do this,” I whispered to myself.

I made up my mind and grabbed the robe. It was soft, but not plush. It stopped just below my knees and the sleeves extended to my fingertips. I tied it shut and opened the door.

Rex looked up from his reports with one eyebrow raised. He laid the datapad on the table.

“Would you like a drink?” He asked as he moved to the small liquor cabinet in the corner.

“Yes, please,” I said as I sat down on the couch, knees to the side.

“Whiskey fine? It’s really all I’ve got.”

He handed me the glass and sat down beside me. I swirled the amber liquid and took a sip. There were notes of vanilla, caramel, dark fruit and wood and it finished with a slight spice of pepper.

“This tastes expensive”

“It is, but I thought this evening was the perfect time to share it,” he brought his glass to his lips, slowly sipping. It was then I noticed how the whiskey matched his brown eyes.

His hand was laying in the space between us. I reached my hand out and laid it on his, gently stroking. Rex took my hand and raised it to his lips.

“Come here, mesh’la.”

I straddled his lap. Maker, his cock was already hard beneath me.

He brushed my hair behind my ear and then pulled my face to his, kissing me. His mouth tasted spicy, yet sweet, from the whiskey.

He moaned and thrust his tongue into my mouth as I rocked my hips back and forth against his erection.

Rex loosed the tie at my waist and pushed the robe from my shoulders. He gently moved me into an upright position.

Rex’s eyes trailed up and down my naked body, stopping every so often to linger. His hands moved from my hips to cup my breasts.

“Last night while I was holding you, I tried to imagine how soft and warm you were beneath the cold, hard plastoid.”

His thumbs lazily passed over my nipples, demanding the soft flesh to stand at attention.

“It’s better than I imagined, cyar’ika.” His hands slid down and squeezed my ass.

I pulled his shirt off and ran my hands down his solid chest and abdomen to the waistband of his pants. A deep “V” ran from his hips to somewhere below the waistband. I traced it with my fingers, leaving goosebumps in my wake. I glanced up from my work to make eye contact. He understood my unspoken request and lifted his hips from the couch, sliding the pants down, cock springing free from its confines.

I wrapped my hand around him, admiring the girth. I used my thumb to tease the head as he had teased my nipples. The leaking precum aided my hand in sliding over his length.

I stood, then knelt on the floor between his legs, taking his cock into my mouth. It was rock hard, but the skin was silky. Rex let out a sharp inhale as my tongue flicked against his sensitive head. He squirmed as I took him fully into my mouth, deep into my throat. I cupped his balls and his hands shot to the back of my head, grabbing my hair. He was gentle, but needy, thrusting into my mouth.

After a few minutes he stopped and pulled out.

“My turn, mesh’la.”

He stood and led me to his bed. I laid down on the edge and he quickly pushed my legs apart. His hand slid down to my swollen clit, rubbing slow circles.

“Maker, you’re already soaking wet,” he said as his fingers moved lower, sliding up and down my slit. He thrust one large finger in, causing me to grab the sheets.

“That ok?”

“Yes, it’s…wonderful,” I said breathlessly.

He curled the finger up, easily finding my g-spot. I pushed my hips into the bed. Rex smiled as he lowered his head to my clit. Shockwaves pulsed through me as his tongue licked my clit while his finger pushed and rubbed my g-spot.

“Gonna...cum,” I squeaked out.

He sped up the pace, pushing me over the edge. A white hot warmth ripped through my abdomen and my walls clenched tightly around his finger. He didn’t let up, causing me to orgasm in waves. All I could see were flashes of light behind my clenched eyelids. I reached for his head, looking for something solid to grasp. My fingers clawed, trying to find a hold, but his hair was short. The last wave was more like a tsunami and I squirted onto his chin and into his upturned palm.

“Mmmm,” he moaned.

He slowed his pace and finally stopped, removing his finger from my sensitive slit. He licked my squirt from his hand.

“Maker, I’ve never known anyone to do that,” He complimented, pleased look on his face.

“Takes someone special to make me do it,” I answered.

“Ready for more?”

“Mhhmm.”

He flipped me over onto my stomach and entered from behind. His girth alone nearly made me orgasm again. I took several short breaths in an attempt to hold back. He thrust fully into me and I whimpered.

“Too much, mesh’la?”

“No, just, sensitive. Maker, you fill me up.”

He started thrusting slowly until he was certain I was ready for more. His hands gripped my hips, sliding me forward and back on his thick cock.

The thrusts intensified and the waves of orgasm washed over me again.

“Mmpph,” he groaned behind me, struggling to move against my spasmining.

My orgasm let up and I could feel his thrusts becoming more urgent and sloppy. I pushed my hips down and back repeatedly.

He moaned loudly, filling me with warm cum. Rex leaned on top of me, hands reaching around to hold my dangling breasts. My thighs and midsection were still tingling with aftershocks.

Rex placed a gentle kiss between my shoulder blades and stood, withdrawing his cock. I could fill the hot stickiness of his orgasm dripping out of me. I could see him watching, before he disappeared to the fresher and returned with a towel.

Rex laid down on the bed while I finished cleaning up. I couldn’t help but to stand and stare at him laying there, naked, eyes closed, one arm above his head. He looked like an ancient sculpture of some tragically handsome warrior. I tossed the towel to the side and crawled in beside him.

————————-

I laid with my head on his chest, enjoying the sound of his heart and gentle rise and fall of his chest.

“Bzzzzzz,” came the annoying noise of the doorbell. It was followed by a voice.

“Captain? It’s Fives.”

Rex sighed. Fives was going to be the reason he had a stroke one day.

“I’ll go to the fresher so he doesn’t know I’m here,” I said. It was better to keep things concealed for now.

“Grab my spare pair of blacks out of that drawer so you don’t have to wear your dirty ones,” he said as he pulled on his pants.

I hoped up and grabbed the shirt and pants and headed for the fresher. I couldn’t leave my armor behind, so wearing my personal change of clothes wasn’t an option.

Rex crossed the room to the door, wearing only the lower half of his blacks.

“Yes, Fives?” He sounded slightly annoyed.

“ Have you seen Doc anywhere? One of the men has a shoulder out and was hoping to see her and avoid med bay.”

“Shit,” I whispered. I started getting dressed as quietly as I could.

“Did you check her quarters?” Rex asked.

“Yes, sir, she’s not there, the mess, or med bay. Not answering her comm either.”

“Uh, give me just a minute to get dressed, and we’ll go find her,” Rex said.

————————

Fives waited outside the door while Rex dressed. He smiled and chuckled to himself. Rex was smart, but he’d forgotten to move the second whiskey glass off the table. Fives was certain he knew where she was.

He was proud of his captain. Rex never let himself have fun, and Fives knew he needed it. Fives was just wondering how he’d manage to land her when his own charm in med bay had never won her heart.

Rex came to the door, now fully dressed.

“What’s funny, Fives?” He inquired, squinting his eyes in suspicion .

“Uh, nothing, sir. Let’s go find her”.

——————————————-

As soon as they were gone I dressed at lightning speed. I opened the door and peeked into the hallway. Thankfully it was empty, since it was late at night.

Now, where should I go? My comm flashed and I turned it on. It was Rex and Fives talking.

“Let’s check her quarters, the med bay, the hangar, and the mess again, in that order,” Rex said.

I took that as my sign to make my way to the mess. That would give me enough time to get there, grab some caf, and come up with a story.

The mess was once again empty, which was good as there’d be no one to say I had just come in.

I grabbed a cup of caf and found a comfortable seat, trying to act relaxed.

About five minutes later, Rex and Fives entered the mess.

“Hey guys, want to join me?” I asked, pretending to be surprised to see them.

“Where ya been, Doc? I thought you were headed to the fresher and turning in hours ago?” Fives asked, squinting at me.

“Oh, well I got cleaned up but couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk around the ship and then decided to stop here for some caf.”

“Uh huh,” Fives was not convinced. “I’ve been trying to get you on comms for an hour.”

“Ummm damn thing must have been malfunctioning, I never heard a thing,” I shrugged my shoulders.

Rex decided to interject, before Fives could interrogate me further.

“Fives says one of the men has a shoulder out and wants to see you. Go with him to the barracks and see what you can do,” he ordered.

“Yes, sir.”

I followed the pair to the door. Rex turned to head back to his quarters.

“Sweet dreams, Captain!” Fives said in a sarcastic tone, waving ridiculously.

Rex didn’t even turn, he just held up his middle finger.

I stifled a laugh until he was out of sight and then Fives and I both laughed.

We composed ourselves as we headed towards the barracks.

“So, you and the Captain, eh?” He elbowed me.

“I have no idea what you are talking about? Me and the Captain what??” I tried to sound offended but the heat in my cheeks was giving me away. Fives could see right through me.

“I saw the second glass on the table in his quarters. It’s the only reasonable place you could have been since none of the clones on watch saw you. You and the Captain are bad liars,” he had a sly smile, as if he’d just uncovered a major separatist plot.

I looked down at the floor, embarrassed that I’d been so transparent and that I’d forgot to move the glass.

“It’s no big deal, Doc. I won’t tell anyone your secret. You two don’t need to go to such trouble to hide it. I’m just glad to see the Captain getting some ass!” He laughed and I socked him hard on the shoulder, the pain in my knuckles making me instantly regret my decision.

“Don’t be mad, cyar’ika, it’s all in good fun.”

“I’m not mad, you just deserved it for being a cheeky bastard,” I gave him a sly smile.

“You know you love me,” he grinned from ear to ear as he put his arm around my shoulder.

“So, whose shoulder is out?”

“Tup.”

“And how exactly did he manage that?”

“Hardcase.”

I placed my palm on my face in exasperation. You’d think the battles were enough fighting for them that they wouldn’t need to rough house in the barracks.

We arrived in the barracks to find an injured Tup, sitting on his bunk, guarding the injured left shoulder.

“Ouch, Tup, that’s definitely out of socket,” I observed as I palpated the injury. “Sure you don’t want to do this in med bay with a sedative?” The muscles were spasming and I knew it was extremely painful.

“Nah, I’ll be alright,” he grimaced.

“Ok, will you boys help him lay on the floor, please?”

“I thought a lady would prefer to do it in bed,” Fives quipped.

“Fives, you’re on thin ice,” I joked as I gave him a fake serious look and the “I’m watching you” motion with my fingers. He just laughed, as did his vod.

I worked to manipulate his arm, hoping the shoulder would pop back in with little resistance.

I rotated his arm 90 degrees at the elbow, rotating the shoulder outward as I gently pushed. After several minutes, I felt a pop as the humeral head relocated.

Tup breathed a sigh of relief and sat up. We helped him back onto his bunk.

“Thanks, Doc, that feels a lot better.”

“I’m going to give you a bacta injection to reduce the inflammation. I’m also going to put a sling on that arm tonight to give it time to rest. You should be good as new by tomorrow.”

The clones that had gathered to observe had started to disperse now that the excitement was over.

“Alright, Tup, I think you’re good to go. Try to get some rest, but comm me if you need me. As for the rest of you, try not to get hurt between now and revelry; I’m tired,” I yawned and rubbed my eyes.

I made my way back to my quarters, stripped, and flopped down on my bed. I just closed my eyes when my comm started beeping. I sighed and started to get up, assuming someone needed something.

“Might as well answer and get it over with,” I grumbled as I pressed the answer button.

“Nuhoy pirusti, cyar'ika.”

Sleep well, darling.

[someone-always-cares]

bonus 2, post chapter 4

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In some rare cases, a superpowered person may lack control over their powers to the extent where it can cause harm to those around them.

This is most common in those who have inherited their abilities. In these cases the P.I.S offers programs to assist these people in learning control with 24/7 care and supervision. If you or someone you know requires these programs, please call our number or otherwise contact us via our website.

Due to the range of superpowered abilities, there is no one-size-fits-all method of developing control, however, the P.I.S do offer training services, of which you can read more about atwww.pis.uk/pis-services/training

next to this is a teenage superhero, an androgynous boy with a grey colour scheme, smiling slightly, his arm turning into smoke. he has light grey hair and eyes, brown skin and a dark grey bodysuit. he has a grey poncho/cape conbo and gloves, both of which are lined with light grey fleece or fur. his outfit looks as if is was meant for cold weather.

page 3: what are some other symptoms of superpowered abilities? Superpowers are also accompanied by complete transformations, including bodily and outfit transformations. Body transformations will include a change of eye and hair colour, but can also include a wide variety of changes, commonly including changes to eyes, ears, and hands, animal-like features, changes in shape, colour, additional limbs and features, and more.

below that is 5 examples, inside circles with a white border: a close up of an eye, all blue including sclera, the pupil is pale and slit like a cat. next is a close up of a green haired braid. next if also from behind, a red haired person with red wings, the longest feathers of which are white. while the last three arent of any known character, the latter two are wraith, shown from behind, only showing hair and a cape, and part of an arm, and quartz, a close up of his elf-like ear.

Outfit transformations are even more varied in appearance, and will typically be in various shades of the persons 'main' colour. It is common for the outfit to contain additional accessories, tools, and weapons. Electronic devices created from these transformations do not need recharging and if using internet or data, will use the strongest available signal to do so. It is illegal to create, use, or otherwise have in the open, a weapon in public without a registered superhero licence.

The act of transformation will vary from person to person, but will usually involve a bright light, and is likely to reflect the user's powers of their effects. In the case of those inheriting their abilities, they will inherit body traits and transformations from any and all superpowered ancestors.

The effects of a transformation will likely change through a superpowered person's lifetime. A change will usually happen after a dramatic change in the person's personality, ideals, traumatic incident, or other life development, although a change is not guaranteed, and will rarely occur without these.

The first transformation will usually be the simplest aesthetically both in outfit and body, with simple details, but will usually get more complicated, and it's likely to gain more body transformations as more changes happen. A superpowered person may experience 1-2 changes every 10 years.

Objects and outfits created via transformation will dissipate upon detransformation, regardless of if it is removed from the person. The same goes for additional limbs and features that do not exist on the original body, although these injuries are permanent, unlike clothes and objects which will reform upon transformation.

page 4: other known possibilities of transformations:

- Partial changes to a transformation may occur in the event of permanent injury, such as gaining a prosthetic after losing a limb, but nothing else in the outfit changes.

-It is possible for a transformation's change to be affected by other superpowered persons. This is commonly shown by similarities in outfit transformations, as elements of the superpowered persons apperance change to resemble each other.

-Changes in colour are extremely rare and usually only occur in small aspects

other changes and risks: Some changes are permanent and may not disappear when a superpowered person detransforms.

-Reproductive changes: Any biological offspring will have the exact same powers as the parent. However, pregnancy will be risky, and have a high rate of failure, especially if the mother does not have any superpowered abilities.

-Dreams: While there is no known reason for this occurrence, supers will rarely be able to remember their dreams, except those with dream related abilities or legacy supers. However, despite this the people in question will usually be experiencing nightmares, and superpowered people are at high risk for night terrors and sleep terror disorder.

-A superpowered person's body will adapt to their powers and it is extremely unlikely for one to be harmed by their own power, but this may result in permanent changes that may cause inconvenience in daily life. If this is something you or a loved one experience, please inform your GP

-Overuse of powers: While powers appear to be adapted to not cause harm to the user, overuse of powers can result in a large amount of pain and possible long term damage

below that is an image of two people, on looking like a doctor, a pale man with dull brown hair and dull green eyes, dressed as a doctor and smiling with a clipboard, looking at a person shown from  behind, with long mint hair.

page 5: what does this mean for me?

Discovering and controlling your abilities is often the first step one may take inbecoming a superhero. Here at the P.I.S we offer many pathways to doing so,including all required training, courses, and experiences.

We also acknowledge that some super powered people do not seek to become asuperhero, but the P.I.S still has a place for them! We offer many career pathsand courses for almost any job and  our career advisors can match up the perfectpower-job combinations to give you a leg up if you are interested in using yourabilities in your career.  For more information, visit jobs.pis.uk

Use of powers in a job, or to otherwise earn money using superpowered abilities,without a license is a serious offence that can result in fines starting from £5000,and a potential ban from working in that field.

below is the superhero arrow, grinning at a woman in a plain looking suit. he has one hand on his hip and the other is shaking hands with the woman. the women has red hair and eyes, and pointy red nails.

Due to the nature of superpowered abilities, it is important to gettailored advice and support for affected individuals.For more information call us at our support helpline at 020 7946 0xxx. Both our lines are open from 8:30am-10pm mon-fri and 9:30am-9pm sat.You can also visit our website for more resources at pis.uk/resources. end id]

sorry for last weeks lack of update, irl stuff is happening too much and too fast

anyway heres something ive wanted to do for a while, a pamphlet thats kinda medical style? it seemed like it would be fun and i wanted an excuse to try something new and im always down to infodump (affectionate) about my ocs

however im half asleep, ive already delayed an update for a week, and im a little stressed so i didnt get a proper proofread so sorry if theres any typo or if i left a placeholder in ill get it later if i see any late

edit: did i really forget to fucking finish the fake phone number at the end? anyway sometimes fake phone numbers are reserved for tv and stuff if a phone number is needed, thats the one used for london fake numbers, i just forgot to finish it until i went back to write the id there

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 IV

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, violence, oral, a bit of degradation)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Loki closes in on his prey.

Note: Doing my best to update something every few days. I’ll probably switch it up here and there and try to get to other series old and new as well. I won’t be answering any asks about updates but I am working on lots between work so I appreciate the patience.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You cleaned up the balcony for fear that Hal or another servant would happen upon your mess. You were aware that they would have little misconception about your position but you had no desire to flaunt your shame. It might not be your choice but others would not know that nor would they easily assume. 

‘Bed warmer’; that was what he’d said. He’d assured you of it upon his last visit. You were nothing more than a whore to him and undoubtedly, to any other who knew of your existence in the palace. Your only comfort was that you might hide from prying and judging eyes for the duration of your service. 

How long would that be? And after, what would you be left to?

You sat on the ledge of the window and stared out. The sunlight faded slowly, the summer lingered still. Even so, you could feel it was late. The king’s absence fed the dread deep in your chest and assured you that with each minute that passed, his return would come with inevitable zeal.

He promised you pain and had proven himself to be a selfish and sinister man. A man never told no, even to that one thing which had never been promised to him, the crown. How could he expect anything other than to be sated in his every need?

When the door handle turned and drew your attention from the ruffling leaves below, you stood. You watched Loki enter with the young boy, Hal, at his elbow The king’s day deepened the small lines around his eyes and brought out the vein on his forehead. 

Hal removed his cloak and hung it and Loki fell heavy onto the sofa. He was skilled at ignoring all around him until they were required. Including you. He waved away the boy with his fingers and sighed.

“Fetch me wine for the night. I have little appetite…” He let his head loll and his eyes sparked as he saw you standing anxiously by the window, “Do you require anything to nibble on, little mouse?”

You shook your head but quickly corrected yourself. You cleared your throat and spoke carefully. “No, your majesty.”

“Very well,” he flicked away the servant and spread his arms over the back of the couch. The boy left and Loki hummed at the ceiling. You watched his profile as he closed his eyes. “I cannot lie. Our noontime delight did tide me over as the day stretched on. And how it did make it seem longer too.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at you again. He smirked.

“Just a taste and I want more, like a sweet tart secreted from the sill or a sip of ale stolen by a child. A simple craving turns to an irresistible hunger.”

You squirmed and he beckoned you close. You watched him warily as he pulled at his overcoat with one hand and unbuttoned the high collar.

“Sit with me. I should like a drink before we proceed.” He said and his lithe fingers worked down the front of his coat. “I must wash away this tension, little mouse, and you might drown your fear.”

You lowered yourself onto the edge of the couch as he let his overcoat droop and reveal his tunic beneath. His fingers ran along the back of our gown and he sat forward slightly as he snaked his arm around you. He pulled you against him as he reclined again and grabbed your chin as he made you look at him.

“I like that.” His nose was close to yours, “The way you try to hide your emotions. That artificial bravery that cannot still your fidgeting fingers or that tic in your cheek. It assures me that you are truly afraid of me, little mouse…” His hot breath grazed your lips, “As you should be.”

“I am not afraid of you,” you uttered, “I am appalled… your majesty.”

He chuckled and a rap came at the door. He parted from you, his hand slipped down to rest on your hand and he pulled it onto his thigh as he called for his servant to enter. Hal came in and set down the bottle of wine and the pair of cups. He was dismissed with a nod.

Alone again, Loki pulled your hand up his leg and forced it over his growing bulge. He snickered as he hardened against your palm.

“My patience wears thin,” he groaned, “So pour us some wine before my thirst is forgotten.”

You drew away as he released you and stood. You poured the wine to the brim and returned to Loki. He took his glass and pointed you to the cushion again. He drank smoothly as you nearly choked on the acrid alcohol. You pulled the cup from your lips and crinkled your nose. The king chuckled and reached to set aside his empty goblet on the side table. 

He pushed on the bottom of your cup until it was once more at your lips. “I recommend you drink but do not require it. Perhaps, I should enjoy you sober and petulant.”

You gulped again but quickly recoiled. He laughed again and took the glass from you. There was still quite a bit of wine sloshing around in it as he placed it beside his empty one.

“Get undressed for me, little mouse,” he stood and shrugged out of his overcoat.

You hesitated and flinched as his face turned stern. You rose as he slung his jacket over a chair and pulled the tails of his tunic loose from his trousers and unbuckled his belt. You strained as you bent your arms back but only managed to tangle your fingers in the laces.

He neared and turned you. He expertly unknotted the top of the laces and your bodice slackened. You caught the dress as it drooped down your chest and reluctantly let it slip further. You stepped out of the skirts and he gathered the fabric from the floor. He tossed it over his jacket as you avoided looking at him.

You felt his warmth along your back as he came close and his fingertips brushed lightly along the scars that lined your skin. The ones he’d left there. Those which might never go away. He pressed his thumbs more firmly to the lacerations and traced them down to your ass.

He exhaled and his hand stretched around your hips as he gripped them firmly. He edged you toward the couch until your legs met it. He nudged you until you lifted your knees onto the cushion. It was like you were in a trance; the thought to stop him was overpowered by that which wanted it all to just be over.

“You are healing nicely,” he purred, “A reminder of me when I am kept for too long from you, little mouse.”

You lowered your head as your lip curled. You latched onto the back of the couch and clawed the cushion. 

“I feel the anger in you,” he slithered. “I long for it. A sharp tongue calls for a sharper strike. Should I use my hand or another toy?”

You stiffened as his hand crawled back up to your shoulders and he squeezed them as he leaned in. 

“Or should I give into my basest desires and leave all patience behind. I could be inside you in a moment. I could have you screaming with a different pain. One which would soon enough be pleasure. An insatiable need.” He hooked his arms under yours and cupped your chest. “Funny, how peasants differ little from ladies. You have the same curves, the same want of a man.” He nuzzled the back of your head, “Perhaps the cunt is tighter? Wetter? Sweeter?”

You snarled and he pinched you. You swatted him away without thinking and he caught your wrist. He twisted your arm against your back until you whined.

“Come on, mouse, fight me,” he sneered, “Give me a little entertainment.”

You bit down but remained still. You huffed and stared at the carpet on the other side of the couch.

“The ladies never do. They’re too proper. Even as a prince, they were all too eager. Of course, they thought their kisses, their words, would lead to something other than a carnal revelation. They thought of contracts and prestige but I only wanted the flesh. They are too proper, too polite to resist.” He pushed on your arm and a pang went through your shoulder, “And when I fucked them, they only cried. Silently. No matter, I’d rather the back of their heads.”

Your insides roiled and the thought of this man, this monster called king, doing to you what he proudly boasted of doing to countless others had you livid. You could not resign yourself to the shame. If he never had to work for anything, he would have to now.

You swung your leg back and your heel met his thigh bluntly. He let go of you with a surprised grunt and you spun, kicking out again. He barely dodged your foot and you were quick to stand. The back of his hand split your lip and you stumbled but not far as you threw your elbows up into his ribs. His second strike missed as you ducked away and struggled to gain your bearings.

You flung a fist out at him and he batted you away. He swept your feet out from beneath you with one of his and you landed with a gasp as the air rushed from your lungs.

“Do you not recall our first lesson? You do not strike a king.” He taunted and stood above you. “If you do, you should hit a lot harder.”

He jabbed your side with the toe of his boot and chuckled. He lifted his tunic over his head and tossed it away. He paced around you and as you tried to sit up, he kicked you back down.

“Shall I have you on the floor? A beast like you belongs there.” He spat, “Oh, dear, are you angry?”

He bent and grabbed your arms. He pulled you up to your feet, leaving you light-headed as he stared you down.

“Go on and try again. Your venom only feeds my own.” He leaned in and his cheek brushed yours as he lowered his voice, “And this snake is meaner than any.”

You pushed on his chest and he shoved you away. You collided with the side table at the end of the couch and wine splashed across your front. He followed you and kicked your ass so that you fell atop the the table entirely, leaving it overturned as you writhed on the floor.

“I’d use your mouth again but you seem like to bite, little mouse,” he chortled. “Oh, but I have waited for that which makes you a woman.”

“You’re… disgusting,” you choked out as he planted a boot on your chest and pinned you to the floor. 

“Perhaps but those words mean little from a heathen like you. Tell me, how many men have known you, hmm? A peasant like you? Perhaps a butcher? A forger? Several, even?”

“Get--” You grunted as you grasped his boot, “Off.”

“Do be honest. There is no number which could tarnish you further. You cannot possibly sink lower, little mouse.”

“St-stop,” you pleaded as he pushed down and you found it even harder to breathe.

“Tell me,” he said, “Hmm? More than one? Perhaps five?” He peered down at you and smirked, “Is it more? In the tens?”

You wheezed and shook your head. You kicked out as silver dots floated around your vision. “N-n-none!” You gasped, “None.”

He relented but kept his foot where it was. He laughed. Loudly. He shook his head and scoffed.

“No man?” He said wryly, “Oh, the elusive untouched maiden.”

“Get the fuck off of me,” you snarled.

“A mouth like that on a creature so pure,” he bent and grabbed you by the throat.

He lifted you to your feet and spun you. He forced you over to the table and your middle met it with a thud. You bent over as once more the air was driven from you. His hand was on your ass as he pressed his crotch against you and rocked.

“I do like this angle but wonder if it better to look you in the eye as I pluck your flower,” he kept his hips moving and moaned, “See the pain, the fear, the realisation that you are completely and utterly mine.”

He reared back and slapped your ass. You whimpered at his strength as your hips knocked against the wooden table. He raised his hand again but was halted by a sudden knock. He paused and let out a thick breath. He struck you again. The knock came again. Louder.

“I told my guard, I was not to be disturbed,” he growled.

“Oh, your majesty,” the sing song came through the door, “I have a message for you.”

“Fuck,” Loki swore and backed away. You turned your head to watched him as he pushed his shoulders back, “That fool.”

You didn’t move as he snatched up his tunic and replaced it over his torso. He glanced at you and snapped his fingers. He pointed to the bedroom and you stood straight. He lifted a brow in a final warning.

You shakily retreated and ambled through the doors. You stayed close as you listened. You couldn’t stop quaking. The adrenaline was ice in your veins but seeped away and uncovered the flames of agony licking at your body.

“What is it, you dolt?” The door whipped open in tandem with Loki’s words.

“Why, it is I, your brother’s most beloved companion, aside from his wife, of course, and a message for his most esteemed brother, the king,” the man sounded like a jester.

“Lord Fandral, I do command that you are to the point and do not continue on in this mockery.” Loki tutted.

“Oh, you have not changed,” the lord, Fandral, quipped, “As dour and dull as ever.”

“But a king now so do be on with it.”

“I have been sent to present to you a humble invitation to your brother’s own tournament upon the celebration of his new marriage. He does apologize for the short notice but it would not take you much long than a day and a night to arrive which is why I did insist upon my interruption… I do assume I have disturbed some going on.”

“If I accept this ridiculous proposal, will you be gone?”

“Oh, I must, your brother does await the answer and I would be away tonight to insure you do not arrive before me. You see, the tournament does commence in three days thus. You do want to make the lists, don’t you?”

“Yes, yes, go. Let him know that I will appear.” Loki huffed. “At once before I change my mind and have your head sent back instead.”

“As amiable as ever, your majesty,” the other man said, “Do continue on in your… well, whatever it is you do for fun.”

The door snapped shut quickly and you staggered away from the door as you heard the king’s footsteps beneath the muttered curses. His shadow appeared in the dim and you pressed yourself to the wall. You eyed the door behind him, the balcony to your left. 

“Get in the bed,” he snipped. “If I must drag you, you will not drag yourself from it.”

You shuddered and forced yourself away from the wall. Loki undressed fully as you neared the bed and climbed over the covers. He was quick as he followed and met you from the other side. He shoved you onto your back and held you there with his hand across your throat. His hot breath glossed over your cheek as his fingers flitted to your chin and he squeezed.

He growled and let go. He flopped onto his back beside you and laid silently. Stewing. You watched his silhouette in the dark.

“My brother does ruin everything,” he whispered. “I am so… riled I can barely focus and…” he bit his lip and stopped himself. “Use your hand.”

“Wha--”

“Or your mouth. I don’t care, I only need to cum,” he closed his eyes. “And not think of what my brother has laid on my plate for the morrow.”

You grimaced and reached over blindly. You kept your eyes on the ceiling as you gripped his hard member and he winced at your touch.

“Tighter,” he murmured.

You did as he bid and slowly moved your hand up his length and back down. You thought of the balcony. At least it was only your hand. You stroked him as he groaned beside you, as his voice floated in the moonlight, and the night air skimmed over your bodies. He wrapped his finger around yours and guided you faster.

You kept the motion as his hand dropped back down and you felt his climax building as he trembled. He grunted as he reached over and kneaded your hip. He bent his legs slightly as he erupted and his warm cum dripped over your knuckles and along your palm. He stopped you and spasmed as he tried to catch his breath.

“You will fetch a rag and clean me before I sleep,” he said, “And we will continue our little game another day.”

🐍

You awoke with a heat wrapped around you. The king’s arm clung to you as there was a prodding further down. You could feel his arousal along the curve of your ass. You tried not to fidget in fears you would rouse him more or wake him. You laid, helpless and watched the early dawn light on the wall.

“It is merely a nocturnal habit,” Loki said as his arm tightened around you. “But, I suppose, your presence does evoke it as well.”

You scowled and said nothing.

“You slept heavily. Rather loudly.” He mused. “I had to roll you over to ease your snorts.”

“You might send me back to the dungeon if I see you sleepless,” you suggested.

“I did not say I was,” he countered, “I slept well enough.”

He drew away from you and the bed shifted as he turned his back to you and hung his legs over the edge. You rolled onto your back as the blanket crumpled around his back and you watched him. He stretched and shook out his black waves. He stood, unabashed by his erection, and went to the window.

“On the road by noon.” He said, “A brief rest on the roadside and the sojourn will not be more than a day.”

You stayed as you were. It might be his bed but it was the most comfortable you’d ever known. Besides, you were unsure of what else to do.

“The party needn’t be very large. Some guards and a few companions.” He spoke to himself as he picked at the window frame and stared out. “Of course, my armor will have to be polished and--” He pulled away and looked back to you on the bed. He smirked. You sat up, alarmed by his sudden interest. “And you will need a chest.”

“Pardon?”

“You must accompany me, of course. As my bed warmer.” He neared the bed and loomed over you. “Did you truly think I’d leave you behind? What in all the gods’ names would you do?”

You frowned and bent your legs to your chest. What would you do indeed.

“In an unfamiliar castle, my bed will certainly need warming and… my brother is the very being that does know how to irk me entirely. I will need the… respite.” Loki lowered himself back to the bed. “And there is so much undone.”

You couldn’t hide your discomfort. You watched him recline across the bed as you stayed huddled at the top of the mattress.

“I don’t understand…” you said quietly.

“Understand what?” He looked over at you with his discerning green eyes.

“Why you didn’t leave me in the dungeon? Or send me to the laundries or the stables?”

He considered you a moment and exhaled. “Well, you are of little use to me in either and I do see use in you. As king, it is prudent only to surround yourself with those who can further your own purpose; be it pleasure or otherwise.”

His answer made you sick. You were an object. A commodity. Well, you were just a peasant, what did you expect?

“And, was your life so glorious before? Were your clay pots and simple companions so amusing? Never touched? Did you ever expect it, at the least?” He challenged.

“Commoners do not marry so early as nobles,” you said quietly.

“Oh, but surely by your age they have considered it? Tell me, do I tread on another man’s grass? Is there some secret betrothal I do not know about? Or perhaps just a tryst unconsummated?”

You pursed your lips and begrudgingly shook your head. You kept your eyes on the blanket as he rolled onto his side and looked at you closer.

“I have done you a favour,” he said, “And I am not in the habit of favours so you might be thankful for it.”

“You would make me a whore. I could’ve done the same in any alleyway.”

“You will find no kings in your alleys,” he girded, “Nor silks, satins, or furs. I offer you all despite your crimes and you think I take from you. I have given you more than you know. You, little mouse, are not the prize in this game, I am.”

You looked at him and blinked. He ran his finger along the blanket that hung over your leg. He tugged until it fell down your knees. You shivered as you thought to grab it and pull it back to your body but he was quick. He pushed your legs apart despite your resistance and you fought with him as he moved between them, his head by your thighs.

His hands hooked over your thighs as he held them apart and he beamed up at you. He licked his lips and pulled himself closer. You felt his breath along your folds as he held your gaze. He lowered his head slowly and you squirmed as he hovered just along your cunt.

“What--”

He poked his tongue between your folds and dragged it up along your bud. You gasped at the peculiar sensation and he did it again, this time circling the sensitive bump. You grasped the pillows as he watched you and continued on, teasing and toying with his tongue. As he pressed his lips around your bud and suckled, you squeaked and you fell flat on the pillows.

“What are you--” You were breathless as he lapped at you and hummed, sending a thrill up your spine.

Your back arched without thought and your hand flew down to grip your own thigh as it pushed against his head. He held onto your legs as he hugged them and closed his eyes as he devoured you. Your eyes rolled back and you dug your heels into the mattress. You lifted your pelvis as you were driven wild by the flurry in your core.

You moaned and whined pathetically as he took control of your body. As he lured you closer and closer to an unknown release. A coil wound tighter and tighter inside of you until finally it snapped. You felt the pleasure flow from you as he drank it up and the tension left your body in an instant as the waves crashed over you.

You bent your arms across your chest and held yourself in your shock; in the sheer ecstasy that had overcome you. You panted and felt suddenly cold as he removed himself from between your legs. You peeked over at him as he sat up and wiped his glistening lips. His mouth curved deviously as he met your gaze.

“I am not the only in need,” he preened, “Though the need is so much more dire when you know what exactly it is you long for, isn’t it?

[peachy-inserts]

𝕚𝕞𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕘𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟/𝕓𝕣𝕖𝕖𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜 - 𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣, 𝕕𝕒𝕪 𝟜

✰warnings: mentions of pregnancy ✎a/n: ok mod josie here and im going to be completely honest.. this is the first actual smut ive ever written and i didnt proof read it because im embarrassed and im not happy with how it turned out PLEASE be gentle with me im very scared also more under the cut

➳ɪᴡᴀɪᴢᴜᴍɪ

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ══════

The bedroom is hazy, fuzzy. It’s almost as if it’s clouded your vision, the heat from both of your bodies overwhelming and contributing to the change in atmosphere. Iwaizumi’s hands are finding every part of your body, sliding down slowly to your supple thighs just to give them a quick squeeze and travel back up towards your neck, where he lingers for a moment before deciding tonight isn’t the night, not for choking, at least.

No, tonight he’s going to get you pregnant, and he at least wants it to be special. He’s already prepared for the aftercare, going out of his way to make sure you have to do as little as possible while you fucks you senseless and stuffs you full with his cum time and time again so that there’s no possible chance of not getting it on the first try

You’ve only just gotten home a few moments ago, still fully dressed and yet already a shaking mess beneath him, a devilish glint in his eyes that suits his smirk all too well, satisfied with your wide eyed anticipation that you always seem to reward him with before you’ve even begun. It really gets him going. There are no words, but only an intimacy that leaves you feeling completely overheated and yet as if your whole body is relaxed, even despite knowing that he’ll have you in a mating press before too long; you know from experience it’s worth the aching joints, though. 

He ghosts his fingertips along the curve of your breast under your buttoned shirt, laughing to himself and retreating his touch when you lean into him, begging for him to finally do something, anything.

“Please-”

“Please what?”. He cuts you off, grinning, looking down at you with what could almost be interpreted as malice, but you know him better than that. You know it’s just an act for him, he only does this because you enjoy it so much.

“Aren’t you gonna stop fucking teasing me, Haji?”.

He huffs, thinking to himself for a moment before pressing you backward onto the sheets so you’re lying down, and places soft open mouthed kisses along your jawline all the way down to your collarbones, carefully undoing the first few buttons in doing so. “You’re so impatient, you know that?”, he whispers against your skin, and the hotness of his breath is arousing. He notices the way your heart thumps within your chest against his lips and laughs to himself yet again.

“It’s only been a few moments, and I bet you’re already soaked for me, aren’t you? I bet you were thinking about this all day.. Coming home and letting your man fuck you so good, put his baby right in you…”. Iwaizumi’s hands finally travel back down your body, grazing across your thighs and gently prodding at your clothed cunt, rubbing light circles into your work pants until he can feel them dampening beneath his touch, to which he immediately stops, only to run his thumb over your lips so you part them for him and force his now scented fingers into your mouth while the other hand softly caresses your cheek, tucking stray hairs behind your ear. 

“I knew it. It doesn’t take much for you, does it, baby?”. Hesitantly, you nod, careful not to accidentally bite his fingers in the process, although he’s much gentler in his ministries than usual. With his tapping against your cheek, you know to let his digits go, and a trail of saliva is left running down your chin, and a cold chill runs down your spine despite the heat consuming your body.

Before you know it, he’s discarded your shirt and left you topless save for your bra, although it’s not long before he’s made quick work of it, too, and your torso is completely exposed before him. It’s a little unfair given that he’s still fully dressed, but you know it won’t be long before he gives in and strips down to nothing. A calloused hand circles your nipple until its erect, and he clambers onto the bed to take the bud into his mouth, tongue swirling around it with little kitten licks and biting down on it every few moments just to make you jump, and you’re whining beneath him, it’s so good and yet not enough-

“Don’t be so greedy”. He swats your hand away and releases your breast with a pop when you try removing your pants, only to do it himself in a contradictory fashion. Iwaizumi looks you up and down, his breath hitching and a sudden pang in his chest. You’re going to look so fuckiing good carrying his child, stomach swole out with his seed and breasts heavy with milk, bigger than they had ever been before

He can feel his cock twitch in his pants.

His body moves on its own, and he's situated himself above you with his elbows on either side of you, a knee prodding at your heat and teasingly rubbing against the fabric of your panties, wet in excitement and anticipation. Iwaizumi’s lips find your own in haste and he’s eagerly pulling you closer to him, hand returning to your breast to squeeze and fondle the one he has previously neglected while the other remains pert and slick with his saliva. He’s becoming feverish, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and sucking on it before he pulls away for air, panting, chest heaving, just to dive straight back in with an open mouthed kiss. His tongue is swiping at your red and swollen lips, and when he twists your nipple you moan against him, and he licks the back of your teeth, his wet muscle finding every sweet spot of your mouth and eating it up with delight so you’re whining below him.

“Hajime-”. You’re fucking desperate now, wanting nothing more than for him to fill him up the way he does, so good each and every time, his cock too fat to ever miss those sweet spots inside of you that always having you seeing stars.

“I know, I know sweetheart”. He’s quick to undress, and although your view is obscured by your current position, you’ve come to recognize the sound of his belt thumping against the floor, the metal piece always clinking with the hard wood below.

His rough fingertips are grazing along the sensitive skin of your thighs, and he tugs your panties down slowly, revelling in the string of slick that pulls from it until finally breaking contact and running down to your ass. God, he can’t stand it; you’re always so perfect for him, always getting yourself nice and ready for his dick.

Iwaizumi positions himself just before your entrance, his cock painfully hard. The head is red with blood and throbs against his palm as he strokes the prominent vein that runs along the underside of his girth. He’s trim, well cut and fit, and you find yourself pink in the face as your eyes dart across his trained abs, a happy trail just below down to his well groomed and massive cock. His sensitive slit you’ve always found a way to take advantage of is oozing with precum, and he rubs it against your thighs before using the head to tease your swollen clit. Your hips buck at the touch, abused lips parted as a low whine escapes them.

His fist guides himself along your glistening folds, and a growl resonates in his chest and the slick feeling. He lines his head up with your hole, and you grip his arm in preparation. Slowly, tantalizingly slowly, he pushes into your little cunt, pushing your walls apart and coating him in a sheen of white. He hisses as you clench around him like a vice, nearly losing control and rutting into you at full force.

“Fucking shit, babe, fuck”. Iwaizumi grunts, and he repositions himself so that one hand is gripping the headboard above you while the other keeps you pinned below him. Finally, he bottoms out within you, and begins a slow and shallow pace. Your sweet little moans fuel him and before he knows it he’s thrusting into you at a relentless pace. You hardly have any time to comprehend what’s happening, head bobbing at the force he’s beating into your tight little with a rhythm and high pitched whines your only capable form of speech. 

“H-Haji!”. Your words are slurred, and you bite your tongue as he ruts into you particularly hard. His cock is ripping you apart, your sweet cunt wrapped around his base in a way that’s downright pornographic, your hands wrapped around his neck and nails digging into his back, scratching the skin and drawing blood, but he doesn’t slow down

With every thrust he’s hitting the tip of your cervix, and it hurts but god, it also feels so fucking good. The bed shakes and headboard smacks against the wall, but it’s hardly audible beneath the lewd sound of your his clashing, his balls slapping your skin while your own cum leaks out around him, dripping down his thighs

He grunts, having no words left to speak in losing himself in the feeling of how fucking amazing you feel, walls fluttering around his length and your breasts bouncing with his every move, and he thinks again about how perfect you would be carrying his child. Your pussy is aching, and the sensations are overwhelming. His hips grind against your neglected clit only a few times, and yet it’s enough for you to unravel around him.

You gasp, trying to sputter out a warning, an indication, but he’s pounding into you so fucking hard and the noises of your own juices squelching around him are so prominent that it doesn’t matter anyways. Your pussy flutters around him and your walls clamp around him like a vice, and he hisses at the sudden tightness and grips the board above you so tight his fingernails are marking the soft wood, no different from the way your own leave scratch marks down his back. Your back arches causing your hips to catch against his own, and the friction is unbearable. He only pounds harder, faster, fucking you through your release and chasing his own high, leaving you overstimulating and squirming beneath him. You try to wriggle your way free, but his hands have moved to pin you down.

Just as you’ve finally began to feel the first aftershocks of your orgasm, Iwaizumi tugs you forward by the waist, sheathing himself balls deep with one final thrust, and paints your abused little cunt white with his seed, breathing heavily inches away from your face.

With a languid sigh, your body sinks into the mattress and you finally relax, and after a moment of stillness, he finally pulls out, making sure to keep every last bit inside of you so it doesn’t go to waste. Iwaizumi rolls over onto his back just beside of you, pulling you into his arms and rubbing at the knots in your lower back from the position he’d help you in. You were going to be so good to your kids, so kind and nurturing.

And he couldn’t wait.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Drowning Part 7

I felt like writing today, so you guys have two Drowning parts today. Enjoy, but beware that I did not edit this.

Masterlist

@shydragonrider @asrasmysoulmate

Warnings: possessiveness, medical whump, odd medical practices, anesthesia, major descriptions of vomit, striped of clothing (not sexual), restraints, IVs, needles, knives, surgery (intense descriptions)

~

Hero blinked her eyes open, taking in the scene around her. She wasn't in the chair anymore, she could move her arms and legs and there wasn't the consistent beep of the monitors hooked up to Supervillain's skin.

Her hands must've have recovered some of their strength for she dug them into the object she was laid upon. It sunk down, but rebounded when she released pressure.

A bed.

Her head was also set gingerly upon a soft pillow- caressing to give her optimum comfort.

Light streamed in through a window, landing on her torso. Hero stiffened, noticing a shadow pass through her abdomen where it stopped.

"Look at me."

Hero hesitantly brought her head up to meet Villain's blue eyes. Memories of their encounter streamed through her head, blocking any other thought process.

"There we go now dear," Villain sat on the foot of the bed, tracing some form of shape into the ruffled covers with a smug smile on his tanned face.

"What do you want?" Hero asked, though she halfway knew the answer.

"You, of course, my dear," Villain said with such confidence that it almost sounded arrogant, cocky...

Possessive.

"Well, now you have me," Hero stated, her tongue feeling bitterly dry. "Where's Supervillain?"

"You still care about him? I thought the doctor- oh sorry, your friends- did a pretty good job of taking those feelings away," Villain tutted. "What breakfast? I made a smoothie bowl." Then he added with a twinkle to his gaze, "Your favorite."

"Hmm no thanks," Hero smiled, still glaring at Villain as if that would remove him from her sight. His whole fit body was a vulgar sight.

Villain sighed dramatically. "Can't I do anything right for you?" He asked, voice in a bitter snarl. "Nope," he answered himself. "No because Hero is too righteous to take anything from a villain..."

"Quit with the guilt tripping. It is not working," Hero informed him, rolling her eyes. "I don't want anything because I don't need anything."

"You can't walk."

"Can to," Hero retorted, crossing her arms, relieved that those at least had some strength in them.

"Try it," Villain dared, leaning against the bed with his palms dug deeply into a mattress, a twinkle in his eyes. Hero vaguely noticed the decrease in swelling, the near fading scar on his right temple- a reminder of how long she had been caged up.

Hero swung her legs to the other side, dangling them down before putting all her weight on the shaky muscles. Gripping the sides of the bed, she pushed herself off and...

She fell, only to be caught by strong arms.

"There now. Proved you wrong dearie, now how does breakfast sound?" Villain asked, smiling down at his little captive.

Hero snarled, tucking her chin to her chest, before nodding subtley. Villain grinned even wider and carried her to the kitchen where she was sat down at the table.

"What are they doing to Supervillain when I'm not there?" Hero asked, looking down at her hands.

"Probably healing him up," Villain replied as he dished flax meal and chia seeds on the berry smoothie bowl. "And then do who knows what."

"We should rescue him," Hero said, nearly a whisper. Villain cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?" He asked nonchalantly. Hero nodded and took the cold metal spoon and began to eat the more than delicious breakfast.

"That is, hmm, not happening," Villain scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Why not?" Hero asked, pausing her eating.

Villain didn't answer. He just left and began to wash the dishes.

"Hello?" Hero called, but received no answer in return.

Within the next fews days of movement, Hero built up enough strength in her legs to carry herself across the house without as much as breaking a sweat.

"I want to watch a movie tonight," Villain said once when Hero was helping clean up after dinner.

"What movie?" Hero asked, never giving him an joy-filled statement once in her stay.

"Thor," Villain replied. "The first one."

"Why don't we watch Iron Man? The first one. Or whichever one Tony gets drunk at the party and fights Rhodey."

"Because Stark sucks, Loki is the best."

"Uh, nooo. Loki is the definition of bad acting," Hero rolled her eyes as she set a dirty plate into the sink.

"Stark is the definition of a crappy character," Villain retorted as he handwashed a knife. Hero studied him, watching as the soapy water drenched his long sleeve shirt. His soft blonde hair trickled into his icy blue eyes as his pink lips were pulled tight into a concentrated purse.

"Or maybe we watch the Kissing Booth," Hero murmured and joined Villain to rinse off the plates and utensils to put them in the dishwasher.

Villain smiled, but it wasn't his usual broad, creepy smile that made shivers run down Hero's spine. It was a smile one, a contented embarrassed one. Tied with his blushing cheeks, Hero would've even called it cute.

That was if he never betrayed her, or never kidnapped her.

If he never kept her from rescuing Supervillain in that wretched place.

Yes, Hero noticed that doors that could only be unlocked by Villain's fingerprints. The sealed windows that refused to budge.

And the fact that the one story trailer house was different from Villain's previous home that consisted of three stories with a gym room and a gaming room.

He was moved, or moved himself, specifically to keep Hero locked in.

Not even his charisma could change that foreboding fact.

《~~》

"Welcome Supervillain to the lab."

Supervillain blinked slowly as LED lights brushed past tender eyelids. The rolling floor memorized him slightly as he watched the equally placed lines fall under the gurney's wheels.

The gurney took a turn, causing a nauseating lurch of vertigo to pass through his stomach. He held back the urge to gag and instead burped repeatedly until he tasted the beginnings of vomit.

Tossing his head over to the side, Supervillain opened his mouth a threw up. He wanted to lurch, but the restraints around all points of movement other than his head and neck forbid that. He was left to allow the puke to streaming down his front, landing on his bound hands.

"Look at you!" One of the heroes chastised, slapping Supervillain hard across the face with a backhanded slap. The world around Supervillain whirled and he nearly threw up again if it wasn't for the gag- no, metal bit- shoved into his mouth, hitting his teeth and sending yet another gag reflex through his esophagus. But this time, he was forced to keep the vomit within and threw up inside his own mouth. Groaning and eyes rolling up slightly, Supervillain laid his head back against the thin pillow that protected his head against any form of head injury. Eyes fluttering closed, he tried to draw more sleep in.

Only for a sudden release in pressure to wake him up from his momentary slumber. The bit was removed and his body was held under a faucet for his mouth to be washed out. Someone came behind him and dumped a bunch of listerine into his unsuspecting mouth. Sputtering from the numbing taste of strong original mouthwash, Supervillain allowed his head to dangle- black hair wetted by the flowing hot water.

Next, his soiled clothing was removed- even his pants- and replaced by a faded pair of shorts. His torso was left bare.

The next movement was of him being laid across a metal table, his limbs once again being held in place by the four-point restraint system- padded metal contraptions barricading any form of movement or escape from the inevitable pain that was to come.

"Patient is restrained, begin procedure."

Nurses bustled around, two on each side of him, one by his feet, and one by his head.

"We are going to force the water out of his lungs," another voice, one that was not owned by any of the nurses surrounding him. Out of the corner of Supervillain's eye, he saw the doctor. The doctor, pacing around not even once looking at the stretched out patient before him.

"This will be painful, but we need the patient entirely conscious for this to work," the doctor instructed. "We are going to insert a tube directly into his lungs- on both sides-, piercing them, and using a sort of plunger instrument to force the liquid through his trachea. To ensure he does not choke, Medic and Nurse, once the plungers are released, you ladies need to unrestrain him and roll him over to his side. We go slow and the second all the fluid is expelled, we need to anesthetize the patient to due emergency surgery to stitch the lungs back together. Estimated recovery time is a couple days with the rapid-healing drug we will administer. Any questions? Prep the IV, Nurse2 be ready there."

The hairs on Supervillain's arms stood up and goosebumps picked his skin. The order from the doctor made him struggle against the restraints, pulling aggressively against them.

"Oh please don't do this," he blubbered, tears spilling from his ducts. "Don't do this. I can't do this. Oh please, please, please, please." He started sobbing, terrifed, as a nurse stuck his elbow with a needle.

"Prepare insertion."

Two sharp metal pieces found their home right below Supervillain's rib.

"Ultrasound."

A cool gel was squirted between the two sharp pricks before a rectangular object was placed upon it.

"Ultrasound ready."

"Begin incision."

A buzzing sound, right before a knife cut in his skin. No, not once, that was a lie, but two.

Two sharp, agonizing knives.

Supervillain screamed, wailed pitifully, as his body thrashed around.

"Stop, stop!" He begged, picking his head up only for hands to shove it back down. His fingers stretched out, clenched, anything for the torture to end.

"Left, move yours towards the ribcage a bit so you don't cut the liver."

Supervillain tensed, clouded thoughts coming to the surface. Cut my liver..., he thought before attempting to evade the knives cutting into his body.

"Don't, don't, don't!" he screeched. "Please."

"Prepare to pierce the lung."

Supervillain shoved himself downwards, but it did nothing with the unrelenting cuffs keeping him close to rock still.

The pure agony that he felt when the knife pierced the lung, then the way the knife evolved into a plunger, was indescribable.

Supervillain screamed. Screamed so loud that even the practiced nurses flinched. The doctor though stayed still, watching the procedure with his authoritive gaze.

"Release the patient."

His wrists and ankles were quickly let free by the wave of a card. He tried to curl in on himself to avoid the operation, but professional hands kept him stretched out.

"Start pumping at Level One to begin."

The horrendous feeling of the machine inside of Supervillain changed into a coveted one when the same machine started to pump. A plunger hit the liquid, sending it up and into his trachea.

Supervillain coughed, rolled over to his side. At first, he imagined that the left plunger would quit working as if it was kinked, but found out that it must've been electrically powered.

Mucus, blood, and water shot up through his trachea. Pain forgotten, Supervillain gagged and coughed the abhorrent liquid out until blackness began to crawl at the edges of his vision. It clouded his thoughts, but he body still involuntarily gagged, coughed, and spat all of his lung's content out.

"Stay awake," a rough voice sounded as his body was shook. Supervillain complied and returned to his coughing fit, agony once again returning to his veins and muscles.

Then, as soon as it started, the pressure ceased as soon as it started.

"Administer the anesthesia promptly."

A dial clicked, though Supervillain hardly registered it. Even before the sedative started pumping through his veins, he was losing consciousness.

A mask was placed above his mouth just as the world descended into blackness.

[hale-13]

Airway

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 29 Prompt - Control

The only real drawback of the current iteration of his suit, Peter thought, was its lack of air filtration. With the tools and workshop space that Mr. Stark provided him with Peter was able to make a Spidey suit that was top of the line in every aspect except for the ventilation; for all intents and purposes Peter was really just breathing through high tech spandex. The tightly woven fabric did, minimally, protect him from inhaling smoke and other harmful chemicals but not enough.

Words: 2407, Chapters: 1/1 (complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, May Parker, Bruce Banner

TW: Medical Procedures, Panic

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

The only real drawback of the current iteration of his suit, Peter thought, was its lack of air filtration. With the tools and workshop space that Mr. Stark provided him with Peter was able to make a Spidey suit that was top of the line in every aspect except for the ventilation; for all intents and purposes Peter was really just breathing through high tech spandex. The tightly woven fabric did, minimally, protect him from inhaling smoke and other harmful chemicals but not enough.

Which is what landed him in his current situation of sitting with his mask pulled up to the bridge of his nose and an oxygen mask over his nose and mouth as he took shallow, wheezing breaths.

The apartment fire that he had responded to still had a surprisingly large number of people stuck in hard to reach places that left Peter exposed longer than he would have liked. His throat felt like it was on fire and his lungs felt tight the way they used to feel when he had an asthma attack. The fire fighter that had passed him the oxygen mask earlier crouched down in front of him with a worried look on her ash stained face.

“I still think you should let us take you to the hospital,” she said worriedly as she adjusted the flow of oxygen. Peter shook his head..

“I’m good,” he croaked, trying not to wince at just how destroyed his voice sounded and display as much confidence as he could. She still looked dubious.

“Is there anyone you can stay with tonight?” She pressed. “You shouldn’t be alone just in case.”

“I’’ll be okay,” he promised, removing the oxygen mask and pulling his own down to cover his face. It immediately became harder to breathe and he regretted giving up the clean air but he knew if he didn’t get out of there soon he would have a much bigger problem. “Thanks for the help!” He called as he swung out, his breathing becoming more labored as he webbed away.

His HUD fizzed out for a second before directing to the Tower and Peter rolled his eyes at Karen but obliged. May was working a late shift and Peter did feel pretty shitty. It probably wouldn’t hurt to hang around the Tower with its fully stocked and staffed MedBay for the evening. He had to stop a few times on his way to catch his breath but he made it to the landing pad with few issues.

“You stink,” Tony greeted him as he walked in, pulling his ashy mask off his face and letting it drop on one of the many end tables. “You committing arson now?”

“Ha ha,” Peter said hoarsely with a slight cough as he ventured into the kitchen to Fran a bottle of water to gulp down. Tony narrowed his eyes over his cup of coffee in judgement and concern.

“Karen said they put you on oxygen,” he said accusingly and Peter groaned and dropped his forehead to rest on the cool counter top, taking aborted breaths through his mouth. The smell of smoke still on his suit was making it hard to take deep breaths in.

“Only for a couple minutes,” Peter answered, coughing again and taking another swig of water.

“Go take a shower,” his mentor ordered. “Leave your suit in your room and I’ll send it down to FRI for deep cleaning although at this point it might be worth it to just toss it and start again from scratch.”

“But I just broke it in,” Peter whined, trudging off to the room Tony had set aside for his use. He may be right though – smoke was a notoriously hard stench to get out of fabric.

The hot water felt heavenly on his skin and Peter spent probably too long under the strong spray but, unfortunately, his chest still felt tight and heavy when he got out. He paused in front of the mirror, trying to take deep, even inhales and he squinted his eyes in confusion. He had helped out on a few burning buildings and had never felt this way before. Deciding he probably just needed some rest, Peter left the bathroom and joined Mr. Stark back out in the common room.

He only got about halfway through his soup and an episode of The Office before he passed out, head leaned back against the cushions.

——————————————

The room was lit only by the glow of the projector when Peter woke up unable to breathe.

He gasped and flailed as he woke up, smacking Mr. Stark in the face and causing him to yelp as he tried to inhale through what felt like a straw. “Lights up to fifty,” Mr. Stark barked out and Peter snapped his eyes closed against the blue-toned overhead lights snapping on over him. “Fuck Peter,” his mentor said, scrambling of the couch and scooping Peter up in his arms.

Peter felt dizzy and his vision was spotted with black dots as he was carried to the elevator. He could hear his mentor yelling something but couldn’t comprehend what was being said as he lifted one shaky hand up to clutch at his, now swollen, neck and he could feel panic bubbling up in him.

‘Don’t black out,’ he told himself as he tried to calm down and even out his breathing. ‘It’s fine. You’re fine.’

“Bruce!” Tony shouted as he deposited Peter on, what must have been, a bed in one of the exam rooms in the Tower MedBay. “He can’t breathe!”

An oxygen mask was shoved over Peter’s face but it did little to help him but he gripped it with a weak hand anyway, gasping into it and squinting his eye open. “Hey Peter,” Dr. Banner said in his usual calm voice, raising the bed up so Peter was sitting and grabbing a light and a tongue depressor. “I need you to open your mouth for me.”

Peter shakily nodded and dropped the mask to open his mouth, gagging on the tongue depressor and swaying a little at the loss of the little oxygen he was getting. Bruce swore and placed the mask back over Peter’s face, pressing a blue button on the wall and lowering Peter back to lie flat. “His airway is closing!”

“What!” Tony said, panicked and grabbing Peter’s hand to squeeze as the room burst to life with medical professionals. A nurse grabbed him and bodily pulled him from the room as he yelled for answers. Peter could feel his own panic bubbling up in his gut but he also felt like he may pass out and didn’t have the energy to explore it.

“Peter,” Bruce said firmly and calmly from directly above him as a nurse cut off his shirt and another placed an IV catheter in his arm. “Your throat is full of soot from the fire earlier and is causing your trachea to swell and close. We’re going to knock you out so we can place an endotracheal tube to help you breathe. It’s going to be jarring when you wake up later but it will be okay. I need you to trust me.”

Peter could feel tears welling up in his eyes and spilling over his face from the stress and effort but didn’t get a chance to respond before his muscles relaxed like wet clay and his vision spun into darkness.

——————————————

“I’m on my way,” May Parker’s wet voice said through the phone as Tony paced up and down the hallway outside the room where the medical staff was working with Peter. “God Tony fuck!” She said, sounding out of breath as if she were running.

“Happy’s on his way to get you,” Tony promised her, trying to control his own racing heart and tensed nerves. “He’ll be there in ten minutes and he’ll get you back much faster than the bus. I’ve got him May. I promise I’ve got him.”

May let out a sob into the phone and Tony felt his heart clench. “If anything happens to him,” she said and Tony nodded. He knew. He understood.

“Just focus on getting here safely,” he told her as he stopped to stare at Peter’s door. “I’ll let you know when I hear something.”

“The very second you find anything out,” she told him firmly before hanging up the phone. Tony rubbed a hand over his face and dropped into one of the chairs that were spaced throughout the hall, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and closing his eyes.

Waking up to Peter panicking, pale and with blue lips was probably going to be in the top five worst experiences of his life and would definitely haunt his nightmares for weeks to come. Bruce hadn’t told him anything before ordering him removed from the room and his imagination was, most likely, worse than anything that was happening to Peter but he didn’t do well not knowing what was going on.

“Update FRI?” He asked his AI hopefully, tapping on the comm link he kept in his ear basically all of his waking hours.

“Sorry boss,” she said remorsefully. “Mr. Parker’s condition is classified.”

Tony’s stomach knotted further and he stood back up to pace again, unable to sit down and needing to work out his restless energy as he waited for an update on the kid. About fifteen minutes of nail biting later, Bruce slipped out of the room and gestured to Tony to sit back down.

“He’ll be okay,” he started out, making Tony sag in dizzying relief. His throat was filled with soot from the fire earlier and it caused his trachea to swell closed. We knocked him out to place an endotracheal tube until the swelling went down but it was already to severe so we had to perform a cricthyrotomy to establish a viable airway instead.”

Tony felt the blood drain from his face and he felt a little faint. “Talk to me like I’m an idiot Bruce,” he said, desperate and hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was. “I need you to lay it out for me.”

Bruce looked worried and reached out a hand to grab Tony’s wrist to take his pulse. “I need you to calm down,” Bruce said firmly. “Yes, this is scary but Peter is fine. With his healing abilities he’s going to make a full recovery and he’ll probably be back on his feet in just a couple days alright? Peter is out of danger but it isn’t going to help his recovery if you have a heart attack okay?”

Tony nodded, making a concentrated effort to do his four-seven-eight breathing and calm down. It took a couple minutes but Bruce was patient. “Better?” He asked and Tony nodded, gesturing with his hand for the other scientist to continue. “We had to make a small incision in Peter’s neck and trachea and insert an endotracheal tube through that incision since his upper airway was too swollen to allow it to pass. He is able to breath on his own with this in but we have him on supplemental oxygen just to support him. He is on a ventilator just to give his lungs a chance to recover but he can breathe on his own – its just supplemental alright? We’ve started epinephrine and steroid therapy to reduce the swelling and we’ll probably be able to remove the tube in twenty-four to thirty-six hours.”

“He’s okay though?” Tony asked a little desperately. “He’s fine?”

“Yes Tony,” Bruce told him with an indulgent smile. “He’s okay and he’ll make a full recovery.”

“Can I see him?” He asked, staring at the closed door.

“In a few minutes,” Bruce promised. “The nurses and respiratory therapists are getting him settled but then you can go in. Do you want to call his aunt and I can update her in the meantime?”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, passing his phone over to Bruce and feeling his muscles unclench just the smallest amount.

The kid was okay.

———————————————

Peter woke to the clicking and popping of artificial air and immediately panicked at he felt his chest rise and fall against his volition and he grasped at the loose gown resting over him before a gentle hand took his and pulled it away. “Hey kiddo its alright, you’re okay. You can breathe the machine is just helping a little.”

Peter cracked his eyes open and made eye contact with his mentor who was seated beside him. May was loosely gripping his hand on the other side, her head resting next to his arm on the bed and soft puffs of air hitting his skin as she slept. The machine clicked again and it took everything in Peter not to fight it. Tony ran his fingers over his knuckles in a soothing gesture.

“We’re going to have to work on your suit,” the man said with a little smile. “It’s getting a full respirator and oxygen tank. It’s going to be a challenge since its so sleek but I think, between the two of us, we can figure it out.” Peter let his brows furrow in confusion and Tony sighed. “Your throat closed up because of the smoke,” he said. “You’re going to be fine though.”

The ventilator clicked again and Peter squeezed his eyes shut and tried to keep calm. He had never done well with loss of control and he could feel his Spidey sense making his hairs raise and his adrenaline spike. He wanted to panic but the artificial breaths wouldn’t let him and it just made it so much worse.

“Hey hey,” Tony said soothingly, rubbing his free hand through Peter’s hair in a calming gesture. “It’s alright.” He gave Peter a considering look then hesitantly offered: “Want me to have them put you out?”

A thrill of relief shot though Peter and he squeezed his mentor’s hand in desperation as he pressed the call button. Peter couldn’t see the nurse but he heard Tony ask for the sedation like he was underwater, not calming until he could feel the cool rush of drugs in his veins.

“I’ve got you buddy,” the man said, a thumb rubbing over Peter’s cheekbone once before settling back in his hair. “You just check out for a while.”

The darkness was welcoming as Peter fell into it; feeling safe with his aunt and mentor watching over him.

[theundercovermarvelfan]

(Image Credit: Whumptober Challenge Tumblr)

@whumptober2021

Author’s Note: Okay, full disclosure, I cheated just a wee bit with this one to help me catch up. I pilfered from a half thought out idea that I had partly written out, so that’s why this one is much longer than the others. Hopefully that’s not a problem! ;) 

This scene takes place after Captain America Civil War. Steve has freed the rest of his team from the Raft and he and Sam go back to Wakanda, where Bucky is waiting. In the Wakandan lab/hospital, Shuri is going to remove what’s left of the metal arm that Tony blasted off. 

--------------------------------------------------------

Day Ten Oops I Did It Again

Hospital | Flare Up | Ice Chips

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“Okay, we’re ready,” Sam reported as he came back across the room. 

“Are you ready?” Steve asked Bucky. 

Bucky took another shaking breath before he nodded, his gaze determined. “Yeah.” 

Steve ducked under Bucky’s arm and carefully helped him to his feet, pausing as Bucky swayed unsteadily for a moment, allowing him to find his balance before they moved forward. Sam fell into step on Bucky’s other side, one hand out and hovering protectively on Bucky’s injured side, not touching him but ready to catch him if necessary. 

As they approached, Steve was relieved to see that there was only Shuri and one other scientist. 

“Sergeant Barnes, this is N'Kabe Udano,” Shuri said, indicating the other scientist. “He is going to place an IV and monitor your vitals during the procedure.” Bucky only nodded silently. “When you are ready, I’ll need you to lay on the table on your side.” 

For a long moment, Bucky was completely frozen in place, his hand suddenly fisted in the back of Steve’s shirt. As Steve glanced over at him, he saw that his jaw was clenched and he was breathing shallowly through his nose. 

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve said quietly. “I’m not gonna leave you, I’ll be here the whole time.” 

Bucky glanced furtively at him and nodded. “Thanks, Steve.”

Bucky took another moment before he finally moved forward. Steve helped him climb up onto the operating table and then carefully lay on his right side. 

“Sergeant Barnes, I understand that your… enhancements will not allow for normal anesthesia,” N'Kabe said as he approached. “I would like to run an IV anyway though and see if we are able to at least manage the pain through the procedure.”

Bucky smiled flatly. “It won’t help.” 

“Let’s at least try,” Steve implored. 

Bucky sighed but nodded and shifted his right arm out from under him so that N'Kabe could place the IV just below the crook of his elbow. 

“I’ve been studying the scan that we did when you first got here,” Shuri said as she came around the table in order to be in Bucky’s line of sight. “It looks like there was a crude attempt to integrate the prosthetic into your nervous system… but they did an incredibly poor job. So, I want to start disassembling at your shoulder so that I can remove that connection as soon as possible. That should make the rest of the procedure much more comfortable for you.”

Bucky nodded, a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. “Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice cracking slightly in sincerity. 

“You are welcome,” Shuri said with a warm smile. “Let’s get started. Just let me know if you need me to stop.” 

As Shuri circled around to the other side of the table behind Bucky, Steve grabbed a nearby stool and pulled it up to the table so that he could sit and be at Bucky’s eye level. With one hand he reached out and took Bucky’s hand and he placed the other hand on Bucky’s flesh shoulder. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, noticing that Bucky’s breathing had picked up. 

Bucky only nodded as he tightened his grip around Steve’s hand. He wasn’t able to stifle a wince when Shuri began peeling panels of metal off of Bucky’s shoulder. 

“Hey, Buck,” Steve said, drawing Bucky’s gaze up to him. “You remember that Dodgers game we went to in ‘41?” The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched up in a weak smirk. “We saved up our extra nickels for months to be able to afford those tickets. We were right down on the third base line, about ten rows up. You remember who they played?”

Bucky squinted and he thought about it. Steve knew that his memories from back then were a little hit or miss. 

“Pirates?” Bucky finally said a little unsurely. 

“Yep, Pittsburgh Pirates,” Steve confirmed with a wide smile. “And after all that work to get those tickets, it was all so we could watch the Dodgers get killed.”

At that, Bucky coughed a laugh followed by a grimace. “It was practically a shutout.”

“That’s right,” Steve laughed. “I thought you were gonna storm the field before they finally got that one run in the ninth inning.” Bucky snorted, which turned into a hum of pain as Shuri started working inside his shoulder. Steve went on quickly. “They went through, what, four pitchers that day? Higbe was really off his game that day.”

“It was a walk-a-thon,” Bucky murmured with a pained chuckle. “Shoulda pulled him outta there in the first inning.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Brown and Swift weren’t much better. If they had given that Vito guy they put in in the last inning more of a chance, we might have at least saved a few runs.”

“Yeah, but--” 

Whatever Bucky was about to say was cut off when his whole body suddenly went rigid, his jaw slammed shut and clenched. That wasn’t enough to stifle the cry of pain that clawed its way up his throat. 

“Bucky!” Steve suddenly gasped. 

“I’m sorry!” Shuri said. Steve’s eyes snapped up to her. She had removed most of the plating around Bucky’s shoulder and was holding two tools that were mostly hidden inside of the metal appendage. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to disconnect this integration without causing pain.”

“I have the IV opened to full capacity,” N'Kabe reported, sounding regretful. “I could try adding a second IV and see if that makes any difference.”

“Maybe we should stop and--” Shuri started. 

“No,” Bucky groaned through clenched teeth. “No, please… get it off.”

There was a desperation and pain in his voice that caused Steve’s heart to twist in his chest. He hadn’t realized just how much Bucky loathed this hunk of metal that had been forced on him all those years ago. 

“Are you sure you can disconnect it?” Steve asked. 

Shuri moved her tools around within Bucky’s shoulder just a little bit, and just that was enough to cause Bucky to groan and flinch as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Yes,” Shuri confirmed confidently, looking up to meet Steve gaze. “I just need a few minutes.”

Steve glanced down at Bucky and then nodded. “Okay. Just do it.” 

“Alright,” Shuri said. “But I will need you to hold him still. Any movement and I could cause more damage than good.” 

Steve took in a shuddering breath before he steeled himself and nodded. “Hang in there, Buck,” he said quietly. “We just need a few minutes and then it’ll be over.”

He squeezed Bucky’s hand and he was relieved when Bucky voluntarily let go of his, showing that even though his eyes were squeezed shut he was still aware of what was going on. Steve stood up and placed one hand firmly on Bucky’s side just below the shoulder and the other carefully on the side of Bucky’s head in order to keep his neck still. 

And for the first time, Steve got a clear look of where Bucky’s metal arm connected to his skin. The edge was ragged and uneven, the skin next to the metal pucked and actually raised above the metal, giving it the gruesome appearance that the metal had been burned into his skin. And maybe it had, Steve realized as he swallowed back bile. There were also deep scars that dragged from the metal edge down across his chest. 

Steve was pulled back to the present by a hand on his back, looking over to see that Sam had come around to offer his own support. 

“You got this, Bucky,” Sam said as he pulled the stool Steve had been sitting on over so that he could sit by Bucky’s head. 

Steve shot Sam a grateful but strained smile. Then he met Shuri’s gaze and nodded, urging her to start the process. The sooner they started, the sooner they could get this nightmare over with. But as the tools in Shuri’s hands started moving again, had to turn his head. Steve couldn’t bear to watch what Shuri was doing. The appendage was not made of flesh and blood, so there was no gore to speak up, but… it was a part of Bucky and just that thought was enough to turn Steve’s stomach. 

At first, other than a slight twitch and periodic hitches in his labored breathing through his nose, it seemed that Bucky wasn’t going to have much of a reaction. Steve had just enough time to feel optimistic that this wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought it was going to be… before that feeling was shattered. 

Suddenly Bucky jerked violently under Steve’s grasp, letting out a guttural cry of pain that he failed to stifle even when he slammed his jaw shut, making the noise only sound more painful as it still clawed its way brutally out of his throat. 

“Shit,” Steve gasped as he frantically shifted his weight to hold Bucky more firmly in place. “Easy, Bucky, easy,” he tried to soothe, but as he glanced down he couldn’t even tell if Bucky could hear him. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was taking in horribly labored, gasped breaths. “Just hang in there, Buck,” Steve pleaded for as much his own sake as Bucky’s. “Hang in there just a few minutes and it’ll be over. I promise. Just hang in there.” 

“Hey, hey, Bucky,” Sam said. He was leaning down close to Bucky’s ear, speaking low and even. “You hear me? Buddy, I need you to take a deep breath, in through your nose. Can you do that? Just one deep breath. You can do that.”

Steve watched in awe as while his eyes remained squeezed shut, Bucky sucked in a quick but deep breath through his nose, immediately puffing it back out. 

“Good, that was great, Bucky,” Sam praised in that same low and even voice that was a balm even to Steve’s ears in that moment as he strained to keep Bucky pinned down. “ Try another deep breath, this time in through your nose and out through your mouth. You can do it, I know you can. One deep breath. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. You got this Bucky.”

Finally Bucky sucked in another deep breath in through his nose and immediately huffed it back out of his mouth before quickly clenching his jaw against a groan of pain. 

“Good, really good, Bucky,” Sam said. “You got this, you really do. Take another breath just like that, in through the nose and out through the mouth. But this time--”

Sam was cut off as Bucky suddenly shouted with pain, jerking so hard that his body wobbled slightly on the table.

“I’m almost done, keep him still,” Shuri said quickly, her eyes never leaving her work, her hands moving continuously. 

“Hey, hey, hey, Bucky, listen to me,” Sam said a little louder and more firmly. “We’re almost there, I just need you to listen to me. Take another breath just like that, in through the nose and out through the mouth. But this time really focus on pulling that air down to your diaphragm. Really think about it, Bucky. Picture pulling that air from your nose down to your diaphragm and then letting it out through your mouth. You can do that. I know you can do that. Focus, Bucky. Nose to diaphragm to mouth.” 

Finally Bucky took in a deep breath through his nose, paused for just a split second before he huffed it harshly out again. 

“That’s good, Bucky, that’s really good,” Sam said. “We’re almost done.”

Bucky groaned and then reached out with his right hand, fisting it in the front of Steve’s shirt. Steve’s heart twisted and he wished like hell he could just take this pain away from Bucky. 

“Now, do it again Bucky, you can do it,” Sam went on. “Deep breath. Nose to diaphragm to mouth. You got this, buddy. Nose to diaphragm to mouth.”

Once again, Bucky did what he was told. He inhaled quickly through his nose, paused for a solid second this time before huffing the breath out of his mouth again. 

Sam coached Bucky through three more rounds of the breathing exercise before Shuri finally straightened and gave a sigh of relief. “Finished.” 

A split second before the announcement, Bucky’s muscles released so suddenly that Steve was terrified that he had passed out. The moment that Shuri confirmed that she had finished this delicate part of the procedure, Steve released his bruising grip and Sam moved in unison to stand up while pulling Steve into the stool he had just vacated. 

“Bucky? Buck? Can you hear me?” Steve murmured desperately as he leaned in close, placing a gentle hand on the side of Bucky’s face. He was covered in sweat and his breathing was shallow and ragged. “Bucky?”

Slowly, Bucky blinked his eyes open. His gaze wandered a little disoriented for a moment before he looked up at Steve and focused. 

“It… I don’t feel it,” Bucky rasped. A small smile pulled at Bucky’s lips, his eyes filled with grateful tears as he looked up at Steve with a bone-deep relief that Steve couldn’t even begin to imagine. “It… it doesn’t… it doesn’t hurt…”

Steve smiled. “Good. I’m so glad that it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“It… it always hurt,” Bucky went on, several of the tears escaping his eyes and rolling down his face. “Every… every time I moved that, moved that goddamned arm… it hurt…”

Steve felt his stomach drop to his feet at this revelation. He had no idea. Every time he learned something new about Bucky’s time with Hydra it got even worse than Steve could ever imagine. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve said quietly. He kept one hand on Bucky’s cheek while he reached his other hand down to hold Bucky’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. “I’m sorry you’ve had to deal with that all these years. I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. But you will never go through anything like that again. And you’ll never feel that pain again. I’ll make sure of that. We’ll make sure of that.” 

“Captain Rogers is correct,” Shuri added. “I’m going to remove the rest of this metal now. And if you would like, we will figure out a much better replacement for your arm.”

“Thank you,” Bucky murmured, glancing up even though Shuri was still behind him and out of his line of sight. He dropped his head back to the table, blinking heavily and he whispered, “Thank you…”

[elysianslove]

all the little moments ; jason todd

synopsis; all the little moments between you and jason that ultimately lead up to the most important words you’ll utter to one another. 

pairing; jason todd x reader

genre; fluff 

warnings; hints at nudity towards the end

i.

in the frequent occurrence of a thunderstorm, you find tranquility. somehow, the relentless tapping of rain against your window, and the occasional rumble of thunder that's usually accompanied by a flash of a lightning bolt, set your nerves at ease. oppositely, they teeter jason on edge. with every boom of thunder that's sent from the sky to the earth below it, jason flinches. he's very obviously trying not to let it show, and with your head tucked underneath his chin, on his chest, you can't see the grimace of discomfort he wears on his lips. you can, however, feel the unruly beating of his heart beneath your ear, drumming loud and too quick.

a laptop is placed across from you on the bed, but you barely mind it any attention as the rain begins to lull you to sleep. you're minutes away from slipping away from reality when a flash of lightning illuminates the whole room momentarily, and jason sinks within the mattress deep, hiding a whimper in the crook of your neck. goosebumps riddle his skin, and a small shiver racks through him when you pull apart to sit up properly.

jason looks awfully like a small puppy at the moment.

he sinks lower onto your bed, turning onto his side and bringing a pillow above his head. he balances it with his arm, and with a muffled voice he tells you, "i can't take this shit anymore."

his tone is anything but scared, and the frustration laced in his words makes you laugh. you move to sit on your knees, legs parallel to his sprawled body, and you lean forward to move the pillow away from his face.

when jason had explained everything to you, about his past and especially about his death, he admitted that sometimes, breathing was a foreign concept to him. that he'd find himself holding his breath unintentionally while doing mundane tasks like grocery shopping or research for a case. that he wouldn't notice until he'd start to get lightheaded. it scared you when you awoke in the middle of the night to a silent jason: his chest wasn't rising and falling in speed with his breathing because he wasn't breathing. you had shook him awake with fright unknown to you, only to find him alive and well, only slightly dizzy. when he had moved the pillow to place it above his head, you notice through the movement of his chest that he'd been holding his breath.

you take the pillow into your own hands and set it aside. in response, jason twists slightly to face you, but remains on his side. his hair is ruffled from the pillow placement, so you shift forward and rest your fingers atop his head, carding them through the soft curls of his hair gently. instinctively, jason sighs, shutting his eyes. it's momentary, because not a second later does he jump up at the sound of thunder outside the window.

"hey," you softly say, bringing your hands to cup his cheeks. his attention turns to you fully, but you know his mind rests with the sky and its storm. "you're safe here, always."

he moves his head to press his lips on your palm, kissing it gently in gratitude. he breathes easier as your hands shuffle up back into his hair, brushing through it. "i ever mention i hate storms?" jason states, and you laugh again lowly.

"once or twice," you reply, shrugging. you briefly remove your fingers from his hair to lay by his side, facing him, when you bring your hands up to his face again. one hand gingerly rests at his chin, tilting his head to face you directly. "will kissing me make it better?" you offer.

he smiles smugly, tilting forward to press his lips against yours. the kiss is brief, but eternal in a way. jason always kisses you like it's the last time he ever will. always leaves the lingering taste of him your tongue. always leaves your lips tingling with the afterthought of him, forcing you to bite down. he always kisses you in a way that you won't forget, but will always crave for more. kissing jason todd is one of the many reasons you've found yourself falling in love with him, even if you’ve yet to say it aloud.

ii.

"which red is nicer?"

jason comes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your middle as he rests his chin atop your shoulder. he looks over to the two plastic tubes of lipstick you hold in your right and left hand. to be honest, both reds look the same to him, and the fact that you can see the difference only slightly scares him.

still, he lifts a hand up from your middle and points at the red in your right hand. maybe it's darker, or maybe his eyes are just tricking him. "that one," he answers you, and you continue to stare at the tubes in contemplation, before twisting your head to look at him.

"you don't know the difference, do you?" you tease, and he smiles sweetly at you shrugging. "i like the one you chose better anyways." you replace the other tube back, and throw the darker red into the small basket slung on your forearm.

jason watches you as you observe the aisles full of color, following behind you closely. you aren't blind, and neither is he, and the both of you can see the stares from the women and men towards him. you can't blame them. jason is beautiful, in a rough sort of way. he's tall and dark and handsome, and the facial scars along with the spontaneous white streak in his hair do him wonders. he dresses the same way he looks: mysteriously. it's always enough to draw out all the attention from a crowd.

you call him beautiful everyday. he never believes you. not even when all eyes are on him, like this.

"alright, i'm done!" you announce, stepping towards him. "let's go checkout," you tell him, and link your arm with his.

from miles away, it's obvious you two are a couple. even if it's not from the way neither of you can avoid the small, lingering physical touches — whether it's jason's hand brushing against yours or you sweetly reaching up to cup his chin with a hand — or the way the two of you talk in hushed tones like you're hiding a secret from the world. it's from the way jason glances back at you after surveying a scene: like you're his entire world, like you ground him to his spot on his feet, like you're keeping him from spinning away, like you're the only thing that matters, has ever mattered, and will ever matter. he looks at you with such unbelievable love and comfort and ease. like you're the only person he can envision himself running away with anywhere in the world.

so the girls and the boys look, but they keep their distance. even when you're at a distance from him, and especially when you're intertwine your fingers with his.

iii.

there's two occasions in which jason kisses you like you're the oxygen he breathes — he takes your lips in his and kisses you wholly, and so passionately and his hands are everywhere and his lips breathe you in so well and he tastes so good against your mouth, and he won't let you go until your gasping and begging for air, whether that be on your bed in the familiar comfort of your sheets or at a wayne gala in front of a very large audience.

the two occasions are a near death situation or he's just really fucking horny.

right now, it's the second one. it's obvious it's the second one because he's pulling at your clothes like they offend him, and his lips are latched onto your neck in a way that reassures you that you'll need to waste away a bottle of concealer. he's shirtless and breathless above you, covering your entire body with large frame. his hips grind down onto your yours, his skin burning with desire. your hands are traveling from his biceps up to his shoulders, towards his neck. your fingers find their way to his hair and you pull at the strands as the pit at the bottom of your stomach deepens with every move of his body and every kiss he places along your throat.

breathlessly, you say his name, but it's lost among the many gasps he emits from the back of your throat. he pulls away for seconds to push your shirt above your head, grinning as he lowers his open mouth to your chest when he finds you bare.

"jay," you plead when he kisses you over and over. he's relentless and unforgiving when he comes up to kiss you fully on the mouth. your hands travel to waistband of his pants and you tug down —

the phone rings, and jason freezes only for about three seconds before he decides he's going to continue to let it ring, opting to carry on with the ministrations on your lips and neck and chest. after a while it stops ringing, and your hands travel lower along his body. he moans into your mouth, losing himself in the taste and feel of you until the phone starts to ring again.

this time, you place a hand steadily on his chest, pushing him up and away from you slightly. you're completely out of breath when you speak — jason tends to have that effect on you — and reluctantly, you tell him, "jay, maybe you should see what that's about."

jason looks like he's contemplating, he even glances over at the phone resting on your nightstand. then he looks back down at you, and shifts until he's resting his elbows on either side of your head. you questioningly look at him, and his answer is in the kiss that swallows you whole. you're an honest person, and you're not going to complain at the way he's making you feel. not for a single phone call.

iv.

there's a lot of activities you and jason do together that he's inexplicably good at. baking is one. he always, always takes control in the kitchen. most of the time you just stand there and hand him the things he needs. it's basically the same with cooking, with the addition of him allowing you to taste test. it serves well that he isn't just good at cooking, but that he actually enjoys it. equally, you love watching him cook. he gets to enveloped within the action, like he's one with the herbs and the spices and the sauces. he's also one of those people that just know the measurements,

which is fairly frustrating.

there are lots of occasions in which you and jason prefer to stay in rather than go out. in all honesty, it's the majority of the time.

today is definitely one of those days, especially with the way he keeps yawning every five minutes. it ensures that neither of you will be leaving your home, let alone your couch. you're already placing your order for chinese takeout as jason flops onto the couch, sliding down low until he can rest his neck on the back of the couch. you walk around to where he is and seat yourself next to him, smiling sweetly when he glances your way.

"i ordered chinese," you tell him. he sighs gratefully, and the two of you say little as you await the arrival of your order. when it's finally here, you two eat it in silence, a replayed episode of how i met your mother playing on the tv screen before you while you group your noodles into your chopsticks' hold.

silently, as he always does, jason steals a piece of sesame chicken from your plate, and you yell loudly. your yell, however, is muffled by the food of your mouth and jason only laughs at you when he places your chicken in his mouth. when you swallow your food, you point an accusatory pair of chopsticks in his direction.

"i always tell you to get it but you never do," you say, shifting to sit further away from him. "suffer chicken-less now."

jason follows you across the couch, leaning towards your plate to try to take another piece of chicken. "please," he whispers in your ear, and you can see his pout from the corner of your eye. "you can have my spring roll," he says, his voice dancing suggestively in waves.

"you're a liar," you accuse him. "how many times am i gonna fall for that?"

as you turn to look at him, he quickly and sneakily steals away a piece of chicken. he tosses it into his mouth before you can object, and laughs again when he spots your expression. it's almost impossible to be angry with him when he looks like this: carefree in some sweatpants and a tee shirt, his hair a wild mess and his eyes tired, and his smile wide. he looks so much like any other man here; it's so easy to forget how just a little over an hour ago he'd been a completely different man, a really dangerous one. but here he is, with his heart on his sleeve, and the brightest laugh — all for you.

"you're staring at me, doll," he comments, and you shrug shyly. he leans forward to teasingly kiss your nose, then shifts lower to kiss your lips. as he's distracted, you move your hand slowly to hover over his plate and then you steal away his spring roll. you pull back from the kiss and quickly bite down on it, grinning victoriously as his mouth falls open in shock. "you cheated!" he mentions.

"so what?" you reply. "not like you took my chicken fairly."

"i'll never forgive you for this," he says, shoving his chopsticks harshly and dramatically against his food.

you roll your eyes at him, and begrudgingly, you take a piece of chicken and place it on his plate. "happy now, my love?"

he gingerly kisses your cheek. "always with you."

v.

jason trusts you. it's an understatement. sure, you haven't said the three magic words to each other, but it's there in the way he holds your hand as you walk the street, or in the way he hands you a special cupcake he made for you and watches as your face is overtaken by bliss the moment you bite down on the sweetness, or in the way he finds comfort in the crook of your neck, or in the way you're so good at making him feel good, in every possible way, whether it's a gentle goodnight or good morning kiss or whether it's a generous body massage or whether it's your naked body against his, losing yourself within each other.

sometimes, the trust he holds towards you and the unsaid love is in how he lets you put his head in your lap, and lets you use all your skincare products on him, however you'd like.

at your mercy.

"how many products have you put on my face?" he asks, his eyes closed. he'd never admit it out loud, let alone to you — he doesn't want you to know that this isn't just fun for you — but the way your hands or the brush glide along the skin of his face is so relaxing. and honestly, he's already feeling refreshed.

"i've only used a cleanser and a toner, jay," you reply.

jason frowns. "and how many more steps are there exactly?"

you pinch his nose slightly, causing him to scrunch it up and raise up his hand to brush away yours. "don't ask questions you don’t want answers to, mr. todd."

he sighs, and continues to let you work your magic. you pull out a container and a brush, and you begin to apply a face mask. the brush and the product are cold on his face, and he frowns and starts shifting, moving his facial muscles.

you smack at his shoulder. "you're so restless," you tell him, and he only smiles smugly up at you. you continue to apply the face mask. "jay," you begin. he hums out a response. "can i ask you a question?" he nods in your lap. "if you could change one thing about the past, what would it be?"

slowly, jason's eyes open. they don't meet yours, even as you're staring down at him while you apply the mask, but eventually they do when he seems to have found his answer. he breathes deeply, and replies, "i think a while ago i would've had a lot of different answers. like not go to that warehouse, or not even accept batman's offer to be robin. but, um, there's still good in what life i've made as the red hood, you know?"

you smile proudly down at him. "yeah," you agree. "like roy, and lian, and kori, and artemis and bizzaro —"

"and you," he cuts you off, pointedly looking you directly in the eye as he says it.

shyly, you nod. "and me," you repeat after him.

"i think," jason starts, but he's reluctant. you avoid looking him in the eye, knowing it'll only make him more anxious, and opt to looking for any spots you've missed. when he's ready, jason says, "i think i'm in a good enough place to say that i wouldn't change the past."

your eyes meet his again, finally. "everything led to this moment, right here," you say to him. "you, on my lap, with a pink face mask on."

jason's eyes widen. "it's pink?"

"what?" you wonder. "not masculine enough for ya?"

jason sighs. you take your phone from the desk near you, and swipe to the camera app.

"no pictures."

"too late, pretty boy."

vi. 

the water has cooled down by the time jason knocks on the bathroom door. he's fully clothed, completely opposite to you. you tuck your knees in at your chest and rest your cheek above them, looking at where he leans against the doorframe.

"hey, gorgeous," you greet him. you smile sleepily at him, lifting up your fingers to wave.

he chuckles lowly, stepping into the bathroom and towards where you sat in the bathtub. he sits on the edge, and brings his hands to your hair, beginning to brush and comb through it gently. you hum delightfully at the feel of his fingers, shutting your eyes. his fingers trail down to your neck, hovering over your skin before settling on the shoulder opposite to where he sits. he squeezes lightly, reassuringly, before leaning down and settling a kiss on the top of your head.

"join me, please," you ask of him, and he hums, smiling.

"my pleasure," he tells you, then stands up to rid himself of his clothes. he strips off the shirt first, slowly, allowing you to trail your eyes and follow with them the movement of his shirt as it reveals his skin underneath bit by bit. scars scatter across his hips, up to his chest that looks as if it was carved out by an artist of the 14th century. you can see the faint autopsy scar down the middle of his chest, but it's barely there. you've asked him before if it hurts sometimes, or itches, like scars tend to — it's all psychological of course.

he told you it hurts the most on april 27th.

he rids himself of the rest of the clothes: his shoes are disregarded followed by his trousers, then his socks, then his underwear until he's clad in nothing but his own human skin. he's bare before you as he climbs in behind you, settling in the space you've left for him when you scooted forward.

the water isn't as hot as it had been when you first started the bath, but it's still warm enough to soothe one's muscles. he sighs blissfully as he sinks lower into the water, his hands gripping the edges of the bathtub. for a moment, he sinks down deeper, submerging his entire body beneath the water, wetting his hair. then he sits back up and leans forward, capturing your waist in his hands as he pulls back against him.

in his arms, you feel even calmer. the nerves or the tension resting on your shoulders and the back of your neck drift off of your skin and sink into the water. his arms wrap tighter around your waist, bringing you closer to him, your naked back against his bare chest. it's quiet, the only noises sounding through the bathroom being yours and his steady breathing and the occasional slosh of water. jason's resting his chin upon your shoulder, his cheek against yours. your hand raises up to brush through his hair and he sweetly kisses your neck.

he breathes in, breathes out, then trails his lips upwards to steal a kiss from your lips. it's short lived, but momentous. you kiss him again, lasting it longer, before he pulls back. his eyes remain on your lips, which hover over his even as he speaks. and he says, "i love you," ever so quietly, ever so timidly. his arms grip your waist and hips tighter, afraid to let you go, afraid you'll vanish — as if those words are what will make you run away. he's never said them before, and he didn't even think before saying them, not long enough to decide what your answer or reply might be. not long enough to decide whether he should have even said them or not.

he doesn't realize he's holding his breath until you say, "i love you too, gorgeous," and then he breathes out in relief.

then he kisses you again, open mouthed, and he loses himself in his lover.

[kiatheinsomniac]

Huntress V

[Part I]   [Part II]   [Part III]   [Part IV]   [Part V]

When (Y/n) awoke, she was in an unfamiliar room, no longer at the doctor’s. It was fairly cramped and the windows were boarded up to prevent any sunlight from getting inside, leaving the candles on the desk as the only source of light.

The bed took up most of the room albeit it, it was small and very low down. Opposite the bed was a desk and chair — papers had already been pinned above the desk and Ezio stood with his back to her and was laying some items out over the table, seemingly taking an inventory. There was a hatch on the floor which (Y/n) assumed was the exit.

She sat up and looked around, rubbing her eyes before throwing the blanket back to examine her legs — big mistake. She gasped and pulled it back over her figure, causing Ezio to turn around to face her. The vampire had heard her wake up but didn’t feel the need to turn around until hearing her sound of distress.

“Where are my clothes?!” She exclaimed, holding the sheet over her bare chest.

“Relax. It’s been a few days and I thought they needed to be cleaned. If it makes you feel any better, I sent for a woman to change you.” He continued as he crouched down beside her, watching as she held the sheet tighter and shuffled back a little. His dark eyes locked with hers for a moment before he reached for the blanket at her feet. Her hand darted out to grab his wrist, stopping him.

“What’re you doing?!”

“Checking your bandages.” He replied, “I have no ill intentions for you, (Y/n).”

“You know I can’t believe that. I tried to kill you twice and then you saved me from execution. Why would you do that unless you wanted something?” She narrowed her eyes at him. But her glare wasn’t as hard as he had seen it before: she seemed cautious, confused and painfully aware of how vulnerable she was in that moment.

“Because I want you to change your mind.” He replied, feeling her grip of his wrist soften and moving his large hand to hold her smaller one. “You’ve been on the wrong course for so long. What will killing vampires achieve? Satisfaction? Why not go out there and kill the men who took your sisters, hmm? Kill them and everyone like them who would strip you and other witches of your freedom. Stop them from putting anyone else through that pain. Fight with me, not against me. Fight for a world where we can all choose the path we lead.” The idea seemed to roll in her mind and she sighed, not wanting to share her thoughts on it just yet and raising the sheets to reveal her bandaged legs instead.

Ezio returned to the desk and grabbed a pouch before returning to her side and removing the bandages. (Y/n) hissed when he prodded her a little too hard by accident, causing him to mumble his apologies as he inspected the wound. Her skin was raw and blistered and she winced at the mere sight.

“The doctor prescribed this ointment.” He spoke as he pulled it from the pouch and (Y/n) opened and closed her palm to signal for him to hand it over. She opened the lid and smelled the contents.

“This won’t do anything. If I had my stuff, I could get the spell to cure it.” She grumbled as she handed it back over.

“Would it still be in the Doge’s home?” He queried.

“Yes, but he’s surrounded by guards now, no doubt.” She replied, “But I’m worried I’ll suffer from infection under this doctor’s work. I’ve never trusted them, we just don’t know enough about the human’s biology yet. I’ll stick to my own remedies.”

"And there are no other copies of this remedy?" He asked, raising a hand as he stood.

"No, I came across it myself by accident after a fight when I was working with whatever ingredients I could find." She replied, frowning at her bandaged legs. "And if it's any motivation for you, that book you stole pages from is also in that bag."

"It is?" His eyes lit up, "Where have you kept your things?" He queried.

"The trunk at the end of the bed in the spare room." She replied, "Though, I'm worried that they may have got rid of my things when they arrested me."

"Va bene, I'll send someone to check and see if they can recover your belongings." He replied as he got up and reached for the handle of the hatch on the floor.

"Don't go anywhere." He finished as his head disappeared down below and the door fell back into place.

"I think my blisters are security enough for that." She rolled her eyes before swinging her injured legs over the side of the bed, holding the sheet around her form in case Ezio came back, assuring that it was wrapped securely around her slim figure.

She stood upon the wooden floor and winced at the pain in caused, gripping onto the table to sturdy her balance - it had been a few days since she last walked and she was feeling the effects of it. She opted to lean one hand on the table in order to try and get back to her usual self, not wanting to be idle anymore.

She reached towards the pages pinned to the walls - sketches and annotated diagrams. It showed a sphere was unusual markings that was called a Piece of Eden and 'the apple?' hastily written beside it as well. There were annotations about some of its known abilities: mind control, illusion and so on. (Y/n) could recall a few mentions of this artefact from the book which she had stolen from the Doge's study but these must be the pages which he had torn from it. Personally, she had been much more interested in the staff that it had documented so she thought very little of these few mentionings of the apple.

Strewn over the desk were various maps and lists: some were maps of regions in Venice with different locations circled and crossed out, some areas marked with squares around buildings. But she could not find any key to decipher what any of these meant, perhaps it was just one that Ezio had kept in his mind. There were lists of different names and information provided by contacts. There was a scroll of various papers that was bound with a black ribbon. She opened it up to reveal contracts assigned by Lorenzo de Medici.

"The Medici?!" She whisper-yelled to herself. How many people did this vampire know? The contracts spoke of enemies to the Medici rule that needed to be dealt with. Some of them were checked off by Ezio but others were yet to be completed. Perhaps he intended to finish them once his work in Venice was done?

There was a noise from below and (Y/n) looked back to the hatch, seeing Ezio climb up a ladder and re-enter the small room which they seemed to be sharing for the time being. She didn't act hastily in rolling the contracts back up again. If he wanted her to trust him then he would allow her to know everything that was going on; especially seeing as he had previously told her how much was hidden from her beforehand.

"I've sent someone to try and collect your things but we can't guarantee she'll be successful." He began before holding out a bundle of white silk and linen to her, seeing as all she had to protect her decency was a bedsheet. "I also got this for you, one of the ladies has let you borrow it until we can get your clothes back or buy you some new ones."

"Thank you." She mumbled as she took the clothing and held it out with one hand, seeing the length of it and how revealing it was.

"Is this lady a courtesan by any chance?" She scoffed as Ezio turned around to face the desk once more in order to allow her some privacy as she changed, his back now to her.

"Yes, actually. We're above a brothel." He replied and (Y/n) sighed as she stood on the bed (due to the lack of space) and dropped the sheet, pulling the shoulderless dress on over her head and pulling the thin layers of the skirt down, still feeling awfully revealed by the open-cut front of the dress and how the stay sewn into it barely contained her breasts. She almost fell to the floor in the process, her legs still weak, but she managed to support herself on the wall.

"Ok, I'm done." She huffed as she pulled the front of the dress down carefully, feeling anxious about her lack of clothing underneath, all while not wanting the bodice to shift with it. Ezio looked over his shoulder and his eyes widened for a moment before flickering down her body and a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips before he looked away once more.

"I saw that," (Y/n) grumbled as she sat down, letting her legs fall off the side of the bed.

"It was only a quick look." He replied in a laddish tone with a hearty laugh at the end.

"Not for you, it wasn't. I wasn't born yesterday, Ezio, I know how quickly your kind can move when wanted." She was replied with another laugh from him.

"Art should be admired, no?"

"You're not doing yourself any favours in getting in my good books here." She finished as she walked over to one of the boarded-up windows.

"Don't touch those." He said, not raising his gaze from one of the maps on the table.

"What's stopping me?" She countered, knowing that she had the ability to severely injure him just by prying a board back and allowing the sunlight to pour in. An arm wrapped around her torso, restraining her arms by her sides and a blade was pressed to her throat in a moment. The cold metal rested against the hot skin of her neck and she reeled her head back to try and put some distance between herself and the weapon, ending up leaning her head back onto his shoulder.

"This." He growled in her ear, not wanting her to get any ideas about attacking him while he was vulnerable during the time that he was treating her. He truly wanted the best for her but he would never be able to achieve that if both of them didn't command mutual respect. She twisted her body to the left a little, elbowing him in the gut and giving her the moment she needed to turn around and shove him away.

"Still not doing you any favours for getting on my good side." She grumbled as she leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. He didn't seem to mind her shoving him, it not really having much of an effect seeing as she was already weakened by her injuries. "Don't do that again." She mumbled, making her way over to the desk to watch what he was doing. After realising he had taken out a very specific map of a building, she became curious as to what it was.

"What're you looking at?" She asked, wrapping her arms around herself as she felt a sudden chill.  

"It's a map of the Basilica, there's something that I need. . . Would you shut up?" She was taken aback for a moment after he spun in her direction to say that, opening her mouth to retort when she saw that he was, in fact, looking behind her. She turned her head and jumped backwards with a yelp, her back hitting Ezio's chest in the small space that was the secret loft of the brothel. Suddenly she understood the chill.

She'd never been sensitive to spirits in the day, perhaps that's why Elizabetta's ghost had managed to appear behind her, undetected.

Her dark locks fell down her back and her eyes were a piercing green, poking like needles into whoever caught a glimpse of them. Her skin was strikingly pale and (Y/n) could see the punctures over her neck so easily in their short distance - a reminder of what Ezio was capable of doing to her. The naked ghost took a step closer as she continued to speak silently, lips moving but not a word coming out.

Whether he meant to or not, Ezio's arm made its way around (Y/n)'s waist, trying to push her behind him in the small distance. The witch turned her head to glance up at him, seeing the look of irritation on his face as he regarded the dead woman.

"I've heard enough. You won't scare me Elizabetta, and you won't make me change my mind." There was a pause as she clearly scoffed, (Y/n) only wishing she could hear what the spirit was saying. "Why would I listen to you? I know that your only goal is to see me fail." His voice was rising and it was clear to (Y/n) that Elizabetta had hit a nerve.

"Begone, you're no longer welcome here for the time being." (Y/n) cut in, watching as the woman's emerald eyes narrowed angrily, somewhat surprised that the huntress had even cut in before she vanished like smoke.

"What did she say?" (Y/n) quizzed, turning around to face him.

"She. . ."He seemed to trail off as he looked down at the woman in his arms, his hand resting on her lower back, tilting his head down to meet her gaze before closing his eyes. He sighed and stepped away, turning around, "I'm not entirely sure yet, all I know is she was trying to get under my skin and she succeeded to a degree." He reached a hand out to smooth down the top of her hair.

"Get some rest, it'll do you no good if you tire your legs out. We're going to be moving once the sun sets then I'll be heading out to see what I can find out about the Doge's whereabouts." (Y/n) didn't like being told to sleep as though she were a child and it was her bedtime.

"Fine, but I won't be staying inside your next hideout while you look for the Doge. If your courtesan doesn't return my things, I'll have to retrieve them myself and if I can't then I'll have to buy some new clothes. You may think that I'm fragile because I’m a witch, Ezio," She added as she sat down and pulled the blanket over her lap, "but it hasn't stopped me in the past and now that I have a new score to settle, it certainly won't stop me now."

"Revenge is a painful road, belleza," Ezio spoke wearily, recalling what his own path was.

"And it seems it's a pain we both know all too well."

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor bound - 57

Honor bound - 57 (anger born of worry) - @badthingshappenbingo​​

This is a series. Start here. Continued from here. 

Red X is for posted, white X is for requested. 

AO3

Cw: slavery, blood, gore, field medicine, nsfw

The girl carefully pored over the map Isaac had spread on the hood of the car. She followed the line of a highway with her finger from the city of Siding south until she reached a junction, then followed it east. Her finger stopped on a small town, Beringer. It was in one of the few areas of the region that the team avoided not because of the syndicates, but for the hotbed of violence that had sprung up as people fought for what was left.

Isaac’s eyes widened. “The hospital is in Beringer?” He looked at her, disbelieving.

She shrunk under his gaze, pressing her lips together. She looked down and seemed to brace for something. Maybe a slap. Isaac closed his eyes and blew out a slow breath.

“I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you. I just…it’s a rough area. We stand the chance of someone else getting shot.” Her eyes were fixed on the map. “Where in Beringer?”

She swallowed hard. “Um…f-fifth and Vassar.”

Isaac’s eyes went wider. “Jesus Christ. That’s disputed territory, last I heard.”

Her eyes were still cast down. She watched his hands out of her periphery. “I…I don’t know. I just know where it is.” She drew a shaking inhale. “I…I told you where it is…” She held her breath.

Isaac folded up the map. “Thank you. Let’s go.”

“You…you’re taking me with you?” Her eyes were wide in fear.

“Yeah. The whole point of the last few hours was getting you away from the syndicates and moving you up north. Get in the car.”

“But I…please…” She backed away from him, her hands held out in front of her in supplication.

He shot a glance at Finn, already in the car with the others in the very back seat. They were watching Isaac with desperation. They turned back to the girl, a placating hand held out to her. “We need to go. Ok? We need to leave right now.”

“But I…I thought…can’t you just leave me here, please…” Her chest heaved with panicked gasps. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…I’m sorry…” She fell to her knees, shielding her head with her hands as she began to sob.

Isaac watched her open-mouthed, his face pulled into an expression of horror.  He turned again to the car. His heart leaped in his chest as he watched Finn paw through their bag as they looked through supplies. He set his jaw and closed the distance between them.

As he grabbed her she immediately went limp in his hands. She forced down her sobs, whimpering softly as he carried her to the car. He roughly pushed her into the middle seat next to Ellis and jogged over to the driver’s seat. He turned on the car, slammed it into gear, and sped away from Tori’s house. Sam turned around in the front seat to look back at her as she curled into herself. Ellis watched her with an expression of vague distrust.

“How long do we have?” Finn’s voice shook as they prepped Gray’s arm for an IV.

Isaac blew out a slow breath. “The hospital’s in Beringer.”

“What?” Ellis’s voice was horrified.

Finn’s head snapped around to stare at Isaac for a moment. “That’s only an hour away!”

“I can make it forty-five minutes.” His jaw ached from clenching it. “Do they have forty-five minutes?”

Finn’s eyes darted across Gray’s body as they considered the question. “I…I ha-have no idea. But we have to try. Isaac, please! We have to try!”

“I’m going, Finn. We’re trying it, ok?” His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

The girl was crying softly next to Ellis, pressing herself against the car door, making herself as small as possible. Sam watched her for a moment before they noticed Ellis glaring at them. They raised their eyebrows in a question as Ellis continued to stare them down. After a moment Sam pressed their lips together and turned their gaze back to the girl.

“Hey.” Their voice was soft. “Hey…what do we call you?” She whimpered. “It’s just a question. What’s your name?”

She sniffled. “What would you like to call me?” She kept her head tucked behind her arms.

“Um…your name?”

She swallowed hard. “Edrissa.”

“I’m Sam. And that’s -”

“Sam.” Isaac cut them off with a low voice.

They wilted for a moment. “Sorry.” The girl was still hiding behind her hands. “Why are you so scared?”

She peeked out from behind her hands, looking Sam over in distrust. “I…I just want to go home…” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Where’s home?”

She crumpled into fresh sobs. Sam was perplexed. “H-home is…it’s not…it’s not there anymore…he sold me…master sold me…”

Isaac threw a horrified glance into the rearview mirror. “Someone sold you? Is that how we got you? You were being sold?”

She quivered with shame. “You took me from my new master…I thought you were going to claim me but I…please, just let me go home…if you don’t want me then please just let me go home…” Her voice broke as she begged. Ellis was staring at her with revulsion.

Sam’s face was pulled into a mask of horror. “…claim you?”

With resignation, she pulled up her sleeve and held out her left arm. Just below the crook of her elbow on the inside of her forearm was the remnant of a tattoo. It had been seared away, and recently. The flesh was still raw and open.

Sam gasped. “What…and did you expect us to…to do that to you again? To…make you our…property?”

She raised her eyes to them, confused. “Why else did you take me?”

“To rescue you?”

She shook her head. “There is no ‘rescue.’ There is no ‘escape.’ They told me…”

“Newsflash. They were wrong, because here we are.” Ellis’s voice was coiled in hostility.

She clenched her jaw. “What are you going to do with me?”

“I already told you. We’re sending you north.” Isaac glanced at her in the mirror.

“North…?”

He sighed. “The syndicates aren’t everywhere. We have places that are safe. You can be free, if you want. Don’t you want that?”

She trembled. “I haven’t been…free in…” She fell silent as she tried to count. “What day is it?”

“December 30, 2029.”

She gasped. “T-two years. Oh…my god…” She started to cry. “Oh my god…”

“Is there someone you would go back to? Someone you can find?”

“M-my br-brother, Micah…but he’s…he’s probably dead, he t-tried to stop them from taking me…they shot him…I don’t know if he l-lived…”

“If he’s alive there are people who can help you find him.” Sam’s voice was tight.

“It doesn’t m-matter anyway…they’ll find me again…they h-have me chipped…”

Isaac’s head whipped around to look at her in horror. “Chipped? What does that mean?”

She pulled her sleeve higher to show part of her bicep. There was a faint grey mark on the skin there, covered by a small scar.

Isaac’s stomach plummeted. “Does that track your GPS location?”

Her forehead furrowed. “Well…yes, if someone wanted to look in my file they’d just pull it up…it pings my location every 12 hours…”

Ellis hurled themselves across the car to pin her against the door. She screamed, pushing weakly at their chest. “Isaac, give me your knife,” they growled.

Isaac’s hold on the wheel slipped slightly. “Ellis, just…hang on…give me a second.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Isaac,” they snarled. “She’s leading them right to us and I will be damned if these maniacs get their hands on us again for her.”

She whimpered and pushed harder against them. “No…please…” she begged.

“Isaac, give me your FUCKING KNIFE!” Their roar of rage was cut off as Finn passed their own knife over the seat and bumped it against Ellis’s shoulder.

They barely looked up from their work over Gray. “Do it.”

“No!” she shrieked. “No, please…please don’t kill me…”

“I’m not killing you,” Ellis growled. “I’m just making sure there’s no way they find us again.” They snapped the knife open and pressed it into her arm, just over the scar.

“No!” She sobbed raggedly. “No…please…if you take it out they’ll kill me…please…”

“That doesn’t fucking matter if you’re up north, does it?” Ellis pried the knife under the tiny chip and pulled it closer to the entrance of the cut. They pressed their fingers against the bloody wound and carefully removed the chip. It was barely the size of a pencil eraser. “Got it.” They held it against the window and carefully pressed the tip of the knife into the center. It shattered with a tiny tapping sound as the knife went through it and against the window behind it. They rolled down the window and tossed the shards out of the car as it sped along the interstate.

Edrissa was sobbing wretchedly. “No…you don’t understand, I’m marked…if I’m ever found without that chip in my arm…they’ll kill me…”

“They won’t ever find you,” Sam soothed. “We’re taking you somewhere where it’s safe.”

“They’ll always find me…you don’t know what they’re like, you don’t know…”

“We do, actually.” Isaac’s voice was dark. “We know exactly how they are.”

“Then you know they’ll find me…they won’t stop…”

“At the moment they have a little more to focus on then one stray…what do they even call you? Slave?” Ellis’s nose wrinkled.

“I’m not a slave.” She sounded offended.

“What, then?”

“It…it depends on who’s claimed you. For some it’s companions, there are pets, there are a lot of different things.”

“They’re keeping people as pets?” Sam’s voice rose.

She swallowed hard. “Yes. They’ve been doing it for a long time.”

“What did they call you?”

Tears formed in her eyes and she bit her lip. She shook her head once. Twice. “I…I can’t… Please don’t make me say it…”

“You don’t have to.” Isaac was doing his best to keep himself calm. “You’re alright.”

“Fuck.”

Everyone turned to look at Finn in the back seat, working over Gray. “What?” Isaac’s voice shook.

“I’m out of 10 gauges. And they need another.”

“10 gauge…what?”

Finn licked their lips. “Needles.”

Sam quailed. “You’ve been putting needles in their chest?”

“They need them.” Finn forced the words out between their teeth. “And now they need more. I can’t keep that fucking lung moving. What they need is a…”

Ellis’s eyes were wide. “A what?”

“A chest tube. But I’ve never done one before. Not by myself. And not in a moving car.”

Ellis leaned over the seat, reaching for them helplessly. “What do you need, Finn?” Their voice was ragged.

“I…um…I mean, I have an ET tube, and a scalpel, I have all the stuff I need I just…never…thought…”

Ellis put a shaking hand on Finn’s shoulder. “You can do it,” they whispered. “What do you need?”

Finn swallowed hard. “I need you to hold them when I’m ready. Let me get what I need first.” They crawled over the back of the seat into the trunk to get their airway kit. They grabbed a pair of needlenose pliers from the tool kit and crawled back over the seat. “Gray?”

They were pale, bleeding slowly into the seat below them. Their eyes were half-open and faded from shock. They moaned softly.

“Well, that’s a better reaction than it could be. Gray, I…I need to put a tube in your chest. It’s going to hurt. But…we’ll be at the hospital soon…they can help you…”

Gray whimpered softly. Their hand searched for Finn’s. Finn took it in theirs and squeezed. Gray’s eyes fluttered closed and they wilted back onto the seat.

“Ellis…can you help me?”

Ellis stretched their body almost all the way across the seat. “Of course. What do you need?”

Finn stretched Gray’s right arm over their head. “I need you to hold them like this. Ok? Don’t let them move. I have a scalpel and I don’t want them to bump me.”

Ellis’s hands wrapped shakingly around Gray’s wrists. “Ok. Tell me if you need more.”

Finn squeezed themselves between the seats, huddling on the floor of the car. They took the scalpel in a hand stained with blood. They felt along Gray’s ribs, marking the place with their finger. They drew in a deep breath and made the first cut.

Gray flinched, drawing in a hissing breath through their teeth. As Finn made the next cut their mouth fell open into a scream. They pulled weakly against Ellis’s hands, writhing mindlessly away from the pain.

“I know, I know…I’m sorry…” Finn bit their lip. Tears streamed down Ellis’s face. Finn put the scalpel away and eased their finger into the cut they’d made.

Ellis swallowed hard. “Now what?”

Finn steeled themselves with a slow, deep breath. “Now I use the pliers to get through the muscle.”

“…what?” The word dropped from Ellis’s lips like a gasp.

Finn set their jaw. “Hold them.” They pushed the closed pliers into the wound and began to twist.

The sound that Gray made tore through the car and made everyone shudder. Edrissa pressed her hands over her ears and trembled, cowering against the door. Sam began to sob quietly. Isaac’s hands gripped the wheel so hard his fingers began to ache.

Finn scissored the pliers open, forcing the fibers of the muscle apart, boring a hole through Gray’s chest. Over and over they dug the pliers in, forced them open, and pulled them out. Gray convulsed away from the pain as Ellis strained to hold them still.

“P-please…” they murmured. “Please stop…please…”

Finn’s eyes burned. They blinked quickly to clear the tears. “I have to, Gray, I have to…I’m sorry…”

“N-no please…” Gray babbled almost incoherently. “No no nonono…”

With a terrible sucking sound, Finn breached Gray’s chest wall. They worked the pliers into the tunnel between the lung and the outside and forced them open one more time, pulling the hole wide enough to fit the tube. They slowly guided it between the nose of the pliers. As it passed through, they pulled the pliers out. The flesh and muscle closed around the tube, sealing it. Finn let out a huge breath.

“Ok. Now I need to tape it in place and get a one-way valve going.”

“Where are you gonna find a one-way valve?” Ellis’s voice was high, panicked. Shaken. They looked pale.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, ok? But I’ll figure it out.” Finn’s voice was dark and low with intensity.

Isaac’s voice was tense. “How much time did you just buy them? Enough to make it another 30 minutes?”

“They have to make it another thirty minutes,” Finn almost sobbed. Blood ran from their hands, down their wrists, onto the slowly growing puddle on the floor of the car. A spatter of blood marred the right side of their face. Their breath caught in their throat. “They have to make it.”

Continued here

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[jackryanfanfic]

I, His Isthmus | Chapter Two

Pairing | Jack Ryan x Cathy Muller

Genre | H/C, Angst, Friendship, Romance

Warnings | Blood, PTSD, Nightmares, Medical procedures

Word Count | 2K+

Rating | T

Summary: In which Jack takes an unexpected nap and Cathy battles her demons.

Cathy snipped the last stitch on Greer's wound and reached for a cloth to wipe away any remaining blood. Once she had sterilized the area yet again, she applied a patch bandage and removed her gloves.

Leaning back in her chair, she stretched, lips turning up in amusement as she watched Jack pace the limited floorspace.

He looked a little better now; it seemed he'd had a clean set of clothes in his backpack, if not a comb.

Something twisted at Cathy's heart and her smile faded. Jack's very posture exuded a weariness deeper than mere physical exhaustion. His eyes held that distant, haunted expression she had once tried so hard to chase away. How long it had been since he'd slept?

She pursed her lips, remembering his response to her message.

Jack caught her looking. "My turn?"

"Yeah, almost." She paused, crossing her arms. "Um, earlier, when you said you were relatively okay...What exactly did that mean? Because we've already established that your idea of relatively okay and mine are very different."

He shook his head. "A few cuts and bruises. Nothing significant. I think somebody's bullet must've nicked my arm at some point."

"Let me see."

He sat on the vacant bed and began to unbutton his shirt. "Let the record state that compared to him," he nodded in Greer's direction, "I'm just peachy." Wincing, he pulled his left arm from its sleeve. A once-white washcloth was sloppily folded over his bicep, held in place with a few rounds of masking tape.

Cathy snorted. "Don't quit your day job. This is a shoddy piece of work." She tugged at the tape.

"My day job is the reason you broke up with me."

And there it was.

"Jack..." She sighed. "No, this is the reason I broke up with you." She gestured to his arm, now bleeding freely. "That's the reason I broke up with you." She swept her hand back to include Greer. "I can't do this, Jack. You can't even do this. Look at you--it's eating you up now, just like it was then. I wanted to help you, Jack. I did. But you wouldn't let me in, and I..." She shook her head. "It wasn't healthy. For either of us." Her fingers stilled, voice softening. "I had to get out, Jack."

He bowed his head. His face was turned away, but she could see that her words had cut deep.

The tense quiet that followed gave Cathy more than enough time to agonize over her choice of words.

Jack broke it, his voice a whisper. "I miss you."

She looked up. Jack's eyes were on her face, his intent gaze disarming. A second that felt like an eternity passed, but then he gave a half-hearted smirk and turned away.

"I miss you too," Cathy said softly, surprising herself with her sudden transparency.

He let out a sigh so deep that Cathy had to move her hands away for a moment to avoid hurting him. She passed her hand over his shoulder. "Try and sit still for me?"

"Sorry."

"You'll need stitches." Turning his face toward the room's single lamp, she examined the cut on his cheek. "Maybe here, too." Their eyes met suddenly, and she removed her hand. "But that can wait until after the transfusion."

"Right," he said, rising.

"Ah--you will want to be lying down."

He complied.

Moving the chair so it sat between the beds, she set up her equipment on Jack's. She frowned, scanning the room for something she could repurpose as an IV pole. There was a coat hanger in the corner. That'll do.

Dragging it over, she hung up two plastic pouches, one empty, and one filled with a clear liquid. She rubbed an alcohol wipe over Greer's wrist and inserted a needle, which she taped in place and then connected to the full bag via a thin rubber tube. "Fluids," she explained, "water, electrolytes, et cetera." Two more tubes were connected to the empty bag. "Now for the tricky part. I hope you don't get queasy around blood?" Now there was something that had never come up over dinner at Buster's.

He chuckled. "Not lately."

Greer was now hooked up to the second bag, and she moved over to Jack. "Roll up your sleeve? You will experience moderate to severe dizziness and/or nausea, possibly fainting or a tingling sensation." She tied a band just above his elbow, pulling it tight and proceeding to swab the crook of his arm. "All are perfectly normal with a procedure like this. Make a fist for me?" She found his vein and inserted the needle, quickly connecting the last available tube to the needle's small attachment. She shifted the empty bag a bit. "Alright. That should do it."

Sure enough, blood began to flow almost immediately through the tube and up to the bag on the coat hanger. Cathy nodded in satisfaction.

"Wow. That stuff makes good time," Jack observed as Cathy crossed to the other side of the bed.

She sat, re-opening the small case that held her suture equipment and resumed her work on his arm. "Mm. So, why don't you tell me what happened? And why you're in this charming establishment with me instead of at a hospital with an on-duty doctor who specializes in something other than epidemiology?"

He hesitated. "Suffice to say I stumbled across a paper trail that incriminated some very powerful people. I guess I got too close. Greer picked me up at the airport today, and on the way back to Langley...all hell broke loose." He sighed. "They'd, uh...They'd look for us at the hospitals."

She nodded. "Okay. So what's next? What will you do after this? Greer is in no condition to go running around chasing terrorists, or whatever this is."

"I know a guy who can set us up with a safe house. I guess...I guess we'll go from there." He gently grasped her wrist, effectively halting her work. "I didn't plan this, Cathy."

Her expression softened. "I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to accuse. What you do...it's important. I know that. And I know it's necessary." She attempted a smile. "I just hate to see you in trouble."

He opened his mouth to speak, but afraid of what he would say, Cathy beat him to it.

"Try not to move that." She nodded towards his arm. "You'll jostle the needle and tear the vein. Then you'll be needing a transfusion."

He let her wrist go, gingerly repositioning his arm at his side.

Well, that's one way to kill a moment.

After a few minutes of Cathy working in silence and Jack staring at the ceiling, he started, hands bracing against the mattress.

"What's wrong?" Cathy asked in alarm.

He blinked a few times. "You weren't joking about the dizziness," he huffed, slowly settling into the mattress once more. "Sorry."

She waved his apology away. "Nothing quite like feeling like you're going to fall when you're already lying down." Checking the monitor clipped to Jack's IV, she added, "It won't be too much longer."

His eyelids fluttered. "Tha's probably a good thing."

She squeezed his shoulder. "You know, you're probably saving his life."

A few more moments passed, Jack struggling to remain conscious. Cathy put a hand on his face, trying to draw his focus. "Jack. Hey, it's okay. You're safe here, and you need rest. You can let go."

His eyes found hers once more before they rolled back and his lids slipped closed.

She rubbed her thumb in a circle over his cheek. Tears sprang into her eyes. Seeing him again, in pain and alone, left her with the same cold hopelessness she felt when there was a patient who was beyond her help. It was a pain that even the practiced professionalism which shielded her from so much else in the workplace had never been able to fully shut out. But this was worse. The tears spilled over, and she swiped them away, refocusing her attention on Jack's arm.

She completed the stitches and had just finished wrapping it in gauze when she spotted something.

A white tear in the skin of his left shoulder, about three inches below his collar bone. She stopped short. The last time she had seen that scar, it was still a red and angry wound. She had tended to it herself. It healed better than she had expected it to--Jack hadn't done the best job of limiting his movement in the weeks after his injury, notably prolonging the healing process. A week or two before they parted ways, she had given him a salve to help with the scarring. She never expected him to actually use it, but looking at it now...The corners of her mouth turned up of their own accord. He must have been using it.

She looked at his battered face, and her heart swelled until she thought she could not bear it. She loved him.

A sliver of doubt about her decision wormed its way into her mind, and for the first time since she had left him, she didn't push it away. "I truly do miss you," she whispered.

Why did you leave? The voice was accusatory. "I loved you," she whispered, looking at his face, which somehow seemed much younger in sleep. No, the voice rebuked, not loved.

The truth socked her in the gut.

I love you.

She pressed a hand to her face as guilt broiled up inside of her. "That's why I left," she whispered. It had been a pattern in her life--a lesson she learned early on. The people she loved would leave or betray her, breaking her heart and making implicit trust nearly impossible. It was easier to shut people out before the inevitable hurt they would cause. She still remembered the way her father had slurred the words at her on the night her mother died, his hot breath reeking of scotch in her face. "You can' trust anybody, Cathy girl; the people y' trust always come back ta bite'cha."

He had proved that statement time and time again himself as she grew up. The disappointments and broken promises piled up as she watched him become swallowed up by a business where success depended on being the first to strike and the last one standing. There was no trust, just business. If she had a dollar for every time she'd heard him say that..."It's just business, just business, just business."

So she learned. She kept everyone at arm's length, too far for a double-crossing to cause much pain, all the while vowing that she would never be like her father. Her work relationships were just that--work relationships. There had been times over the years when she found herself speaking to a date in her "doctor" voice, and there were times when her date responded in kind. Just business.

She had armored herself in loneliness and told herself she was happy that way. Pathetic.

Jack had been...different. He was honest, genuine. Perhaps too much so. In an environment where half-truths and cryptic answers were all too common, she had been drawn to it like a moth to a flame. He took her off guard, kept her guessing, made her laugh. She learned, of course, that part of his honesty was an act--he had skeletons and secrets just like everyone else, but those core virtues remained true of him. Her walls had crumbled. For the first time she could remember, she hadn't felt so alone. She was happy--not merely satisfied or content, but happy.

Then a terrorist tried to blow up the hospital she worked in, and Jack had been shot. It was a minor wound that would cause little-to-no lasting issues, but if that bullet had hit two inches to the right?

Even now, she closed her eyes against the thought.

Now, alone and without the excuse of distraction, she could see that the pain she felt had been as much her own fault as Jack's. She had drawn away, gradually, subconsciously allowing her fear to dictate her next move.

Remorse burned her throat, and she angrily smeared at the tears that were now dropping rapidly. Jack needed her. He had told her once, a few weeks after he had opened up to her about the crash. She asked him about the nightmares, cautiously, afraid he would shut her down with an "it's fine, I'm fine, don't worry about me." Instead, he met her gaze, a small smile on his face and an enormous glow in his eyes. "Yeah, uh...They've been a little better."

And she had left him alone because she was scared. Scared she would lose him, scared he would leave, scared of the vulnerability they were opening themselves up to. Her lip curled down in scorn. Selfless Doctor Cathy.

On auto-pilot, she stood, checking the monitor and disconnecting Jack and Greer from the transfusion equipment. You messed up. Fix it. Her mind raced for an answer, and she desperately tried to quiet it as she checked on her patients.

Greer's color was a bit more human, but Jack's skin was now pale, cast yellow by the dim glow of the lamp. She pressed her thumb and index finger to her eyes, trying to rub away the dull ache developing behind them. "Electrolytes," she muttered. They'll need electrolytes. Gatorade?

She thought she had seen a vending machine at the end of the hall. Neither showed signs of waking any time soon, so she snatched the key from the nightstand, her wallet from her purse, and stepped into the hall, locking the door behind her.

Sure enough, there was an ancient vending machine rumbling against the far wall. As she neared, she saw that the face of the machine was dented and cracked, as though the people who had come before her had held boxing matches with the poor thing rather than getting drinks.

Scanning the options, she was relieved to see Gatorade. She fed in two dollars and smacked the appropriate button, waiting as it hissed a sputtered before releasing the bottle with a clunk loud enough to make her jump. Struggling with crumpled bills, she repeated the process. This time she braced herself for the clunk.

She checked the expiration date on the bottles, just to be sure. Grabbing her change, she turned to go--

And hesitated.

The hall suddenly seemed like far too short of a walk. The questions she had momentarily pushed aside descended upon her once more like smog.

Breathing deeply, she lifted her chin and walked.

Her feet moved slowly even as her mind raced, and by the time she reached the door, she had reached a decision.

________________________________

A/N: I hope this brought some enjoyment to everyone’s quarantined lives. Thank you so much for taking the time to read this chapter! Chapter three should be up soon--it’s all written, I just have to find the time to post. :)

If you missed any preceeding chapters, I’ll link them here. Questions/comments/crit always very welcome. Also, ask box is open for requests/prompts anytime!  

Be well, yall. Take your vitamins, drink your water, and hang in there. The sun will shine on us again. ;) <3

P.S. I have a couple fanarts for this fandom. I was considering posting them here, but they’re not fanfiction, so...thoughts?

Prologue:

https://jackryanfanfic.tumblr.com/post/611939538664882176/pairing-jack-ryan-x-cathy-muller-genre-hc

Chapter One:

https://jackryanfanfic.tumblr.com/post/612751574766321664/i-his-isthmus-chapter-one

Request Guidelines:

https://jackryanfanfic.tumblr.com/post/190676569367/taking-requests-yayyy

[artificialqueens]

Overpowered Part 5 (Branjie)- athena2

Really sorry about that cliffhanger! This chapter was SO hard to write, and I actually made myself tear up a few times. I hope it’s not too long! The support and feedback has been absolutely amazing, and I would really appreciate it if you let me know what you think of this one! I really hope you like it! *This does have injury, mentioned blood, mentioned abuse, and mild implied depression*

Vanjie’s “I love you” swirls in Frost’s head as she blasts ice at Quake, Scarlet’s screams ineffective against his earplugs.

“We gotta get those things out of his ears,” Scarlet pants, wiping blood off her mouth. “Then I can finish him.”

Frost nods, her own face sticky with blood. The ground beneath them is torn to shreds, dirt, rocks, and branches scattered among the snow.

“Ow, fuck,” Yvie crackles in her ear comm. “I knocked out Shockwave, but he fucked me up pretty good. Vanjie? Vanj- oh, shit,” Yvie’s last words are hushed, and Frost knows. Something’s wrong.

“Y-Yvie?” Her voice quivers. She ducks behind a tree while Scarlet continues the fight. Her heart is pounding painfully fast, straining her ribs. “Did s–did something happen?”

It’s so quiet she wonders if the comm died. “You need to get over here.”

“Go! I got this!” Scarlet insists, and Frost runs.

The trees fade as she sprints, desperate to reach Vanjie but also not wanting to know what awaits. The clock tower guides her, a crack in the clock face slicing through her vision, and the time…she almost chokes on her heart. Did that mean…no, no, please.

She feels like she’s walking through quicksand as she reaches Yvie, standing next to someone on the ground. A giant hand is squeezing her chest, cutting off air, but Frost isn’t even seeking any.

She can’t look.

No, no, please, no–

“Brooke, I’m so sorry,” Yvie says softly. “I tried CPR, but she…I’m sorry.”

But Yvie doesn’t need to be sorry, because this isn’t happening. Because Vanessa’s not dead. Vanessa’s not dead, and she’s going to open the red silk robe Brooke got her because she loved robes but other fabrics made her too hot. She’s going to open the two presents Brooke’s been nervous about, and her grin will tell Brooke she was jittery for nothing. She’s going to stuff herself with cake and say it was worth it despite her stomachache. Vanessa is going to laugh and smile and look at Brooke with that gleam in her eyes and sneak food to the pets and make a mess while they cook dinner and she’s going to kiss her and curl up with Brooke in bed, because she’s not dead.

Yvie steps back, and she forces herself to look down.

Vanjie–Vanessa–lies on the hard snow, scorch marks on the chest and arm of her red suit, the red like blood against the bright white. Only there isn’t any blood. She isn’t moving, and Vanessa is never still.

Frost drops, and by the time her knees sink into the snow, Frost has shattered and a shell of Brooke is all that remains.

“Vanessa?” Her voice cracks like thin ice.

She doesn’t answer.

“Ness?”

Silence.

“Please,” Brooke whimpers.

Tears stream down her cheeks as a chill ravages her, heart plummeting below zero.

She should have done more. She shouldn’t have left Vanessa, should have wiped the blood off her face as soon as the rock struck her, shouldn’t have let herself believe they could simply avoid this.

Shouldn’t have let herself believe she could have such happiness without it being ripped away from her.

Vanessa’s eyes are closed, and Brooke gently peels away her mask. It reminds her of when Vanessa removed it for the first time, when Brooke looked into those eyes and was ready to tell her everything, to give Vanessa her entire heart, when Vanessa’s arms taught her what safety meant, and now her body convulses with sobs, world blurred by tears, as she selfishly realizes that those arms will never hold her again.

That her very definition of safety is being erased.

She pulls Vanessa into her arms, registering somewhere in her mind that this is the final piece of Yvie’s vision. She looks at Vanessa, usually full of color and sound and life, now dull and silent and–she can’t say it.

I love you. I love you more than anything. I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. She can’t speak but her tears carry the message as they drip onto Vanessa’s face. She wipes them off her as even more fall. Somehow Vanessa’s cheeks are still warm, their heat beneath Brooke’s fingertips the only sign she can still feel at all.

Warm?

Brooke’s heart speeds up, and she forces down the hope longing to thaw her frozen heart. She’s probably just imagining it. She doesn’t know science but she’s pretty sure Vanessa should not be warm. She’s not breathing, and Brooke can’t feel a pulse. But Vanessa is warm. She lowers her ear to Vanessa’s chest. Is it her imagination, or does she hear electricity humming in her body?

An idea pops into her head. It probably won’t work. It probably shouldn’t work; it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense, but the truth is nothing in her life has made sense since she woke up in that damn bed with a dozen tubes in her arm, and the only person that has ever brought clarity isn’t breathing, and Brooke will try anything.

She eases Vanessa onto the snow and places both hands over her heart. She does the chest compressions A’Keria taught her, but she lets ice flow from her hands, watching as it travels through the hole in Vanessa’s suit and over the shiny burn on her chest, seeping into her body.

She’s never used her powers like this and she can feel herself weakening, her eyelids getting heavy as she lowers her lips to Vanessa’s and pushes air into her body, as she wills the ice to soothe the charred areas of Vanessa’s heart, to let her scorched arteries pulse anew, but she keeps going.

She keeps going until she feels a faint thrum under her hands.

She keeps going until Vanessa’s gasping breath soars through the winter air, and it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard.

Vanessa coughs harshly and falls unconscious, but she continues to breathe. Her heart continues to beat.

She’s alive.

Brooke cradles Vanessa just to feel her heartbeat against her own chest. She lets herself be selfish again and soak in the fact that she won’t be left without Vanessa. That she won’t have to sleep in an empty bed, or make pancakes for one instead of two, or get a shot at the doctor’s without her warm hand to hold, or watch a movie without her cackling loudly.

Because of all the things Brooke has come to know, how to live without Vanessa is not one of them. —

She’s not sure how they end up at the base, her eyes seeing nothing but Vanessa’s chest as it rises and falls, her ears hearing nothing but Vanessa’s breaths.

The night passes in snapshots as Brooke’s chest tightens with worries about how frail Vanessa felt: Ra’jah tearing Vanessa out of her arms; Yvie trying to calm her; the snow and ice stuck to Brooke’s suit melting into a puddle at her feet; Brooke’s shivers fading to numbness as she paced the hallway, breath coming in fearful wheezes; Scarlet arriving; and Ra’jah finally bringing her to Vanessa.

Vanessa is pale, almost as pale as the bandages on her arm and chest, but she’s alive. Her breaths are shallow and her heart is slow but she’s alive and Brooke finally unclenches her shoulders.

She looks so tiny in the bed, like a child, and Brooke just wants to hold her. She wishes Vanessa was home in their bed, safe. She forces herself to remember that this isn’t the lab, that the wires and tubes are helping her even if they look scary. She wonders if this is how Vanessa felt when she got shot: completely helpless, unable to do anything but watch as monitors and medicine make sure Vanessa is okay. She wishes she could take Vanessa’s place, let the nest of wires run over her, transfer those burns to her skin so Vanessa didn’t have to feel any pain.

Now that she knows Vanessa’s alright, it’s like every ache and ounce of exhaustion Brooke ignored hits her at once. Her head droops, too heavy to hold up as the room turns in circles. Her heart slows dangerously. Her knees turn to rubber, and Scarlet seats her in a chair by Vanessa’s bed.

“You’re freezing,” Scarlet hisses, shooting a concerned glance at Yvie.

“Always run cold,” she slurs.

Yvie shakes her head. “Your lips are blue. The way you used your powers, and you’re still in that suit…you need a doctor.”

“Look at her hands,” Scarlet whispers.

Brooke sees tiny ice fragments cresting up her skin, her fingertips tinged blue. She realizes that she can’t feel the ice or her fingers–can’t feel anything below her elbows or knees, actually–but she’s too sleepy and her head is too foggy to care.

Even though she’d refused medical attention all night, she doesn’t have the energy to argue when Ra’jah enters, flanked by A’Keria and Silk, and she fights to keep her eyes open as a thermometer is slipped under her tongue.

“Brooke, sweetie, we really need you to stay awake for us,” A’Keria’s voice is miles away.

Ra’jah frowns as she removes the thermometer, and her face morphs into the doctor’s.

A rough wail shreds Brooke’s throat. She wants to scream, tell him not to touch her, but the words are slippery in her mouth and all she manages are shuddering gasps, and she thinks she’s crying again.

Is she going crazy?

A’Keria’s trying to soothe her but her eyes are cold and gray like the General’s and suddenly he’s there, and Brooke doesn’t know where she is anymore, and she wants to push them both away but her arms won’t move, and she gratefully lets sleep take her. —

Faint throbbing in her left hand sinks beneath the surface and tugs her from unconsciousness. She cracks an eye open and glimpses a tube. An IV.

Her breath halts in her throat. She’s in so much trouble; they only gave her an IV when she was really bad. Did she ask for her name again?

The wires stuck to her skin must be telling them her heart rate and temperature and other information she didn’t even know about, all laid bare on display for them to record and review to make sure the drugs worked properly.

How did she get here? Her mind is moving like molasses, she can’t think–they must have given her a lot already. She works her right hand over to the IV. She has to take it out but her fingers are too stiff, too clumsy–

“Hey, Brooke? The IV needs to stay in, it’s okay.” The voice seems worried.

She senses the person getting closer. Did they have a needle? Brooke curls inward on pure instinct, a whimper escaping before she can stop it. No crying or she’ll get punished. She hopes whatever they want from her won’t hurt.

“Um, A’Keria said to tell you you’re safe.” The voice continues.

A’Keria. Brooke’s thoughts lag like an outdated computer. A’Keria wouldn’t be at the lab, would she? But if A’Keria’s here, where’s–

“Vanessa!” Her eyes snap open. She tries to get out of bed but the room tilts and she slumps back against the pillows. Vanessa, find Vanessa. “Wh-where is she?”

“She’s right next to you.”

Brooke’s head whirs around. The rail of her bed brushes another bed containing…Vanessa.

She’s sleeping, face still pale but utterly beautiful, and she looks peaceful, her warmth reaching Brooke through the layers of blankets someone heaped over her, making her almost comfortable in the firm bed. She wonders if it was the same someone that dressed her in the sweatshirt and sweatpants she’s wearing.

Vanessa’s safe. Brooke sighs. It comes rushing back: the church, the fight, her ice on Vanessa’s chest.

Her stomach knots at how quickly her mind followed their rules, how quickly her muscles expected the prick of a needle. The scars might fade but they’ll always be there.

I am more than what they did to me, she reminds herself, something else Nina taught her.

Brooke drags herself closer, slipping her hand through the rail to circle around Vanessa’s, needing to know that she’s really here, trying not to worry about how limp Vanessa’s hand is.

Yvie and Scarlet hover around the bed, both covered in bruises, medical tape, and bandages.

“What happened?” Brooke asks.

Her mind is still a little stuffy and she processes their information in chunks. Yvie knocked out Shockwave and Scarlet took down Quake, Scarlet waiting for backup while Yvie drove Brooke and Vanessa to base. Silk and A’Keria took Quake and Shockwave into custody after dropping Scarlet off, and Silk confirmed they really had them this time.

They were gone. They were really gone. Not one person from the lab can touch her again. Brooke is breathless with relief, struggling to comprehend the sudden safety, sudden freedom, of knowing they wouldn’t hurt her or Vanessa again.

“Then we saw Vanessa and you passed out,” Yvie finishes. “Ra’jah said using your powers that intensely made your temperature drop and gave you hypothermia. She thinks you were delirious, that’s why you got upset.”

That’s why she saw them. She wasn’t going crazy. Brooke relaxes further into the blankets.

“She couldn’t believe you lasted as long as you did with a temperature that low,” Scarlet adds. “She had you in your own room at first even though A’Keria said it was a bad idea. Then your temperature kept falling and your pulse was barely there and Vanessa’s heart rate was slowing, and A’Keria let her have it.”

“A’Keria went off on Ra’jah,” Yvie announces gleefully. “She basically told her if she separated you, she’d regret it more than when she got bangs. Ra’jah had your bed brought in real quick. And A’Keria was right. You warmed up faster next to Vanessa, and her heartbeat got stronger when you were there.”

“That hair was a national tragedy,” A’Keria declares as she slips inside, handing Scarlet and Yvie coffees from a tray and stroking Brooke’s arm.

“You feeling better?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I thought we were gonna lose both of you in one night,” A’Keria says softly, dark circles ringing her eyes.

“Ra’jah said to give you hot drinks when you woke up, so if you’re up for it…” She pulls another cup off the tray, placing it gently in Brooke’s hands.

The scent of rich chocolate hits her nose, loosening her tense muscles.

“Thank you,” Brooke whispers, and she can tell from A’Keria’s eyes that she knows Brooke means it for everything. —

Ra’jah makes her stay in bed for the day, changing the small bandage on the cut on her head, which thankfully didn’t need stitches, and constantly checking her temperature. Even though being stuck here makes her skin itch, it’s bearable with Vanessa.

Her whole body is warm as she watches Vanessa sleep, trying not to think of what could have been, grateful when Yvie, Scarlet, Silk, and A’Keria spend the afternoon with her and take her mind off Vanessa lying lifeless in the snow.

Brooke’s heart leaps when Vanessa’s eyelashes flutter that night. Her brown eyes are dull and confused, but Brooke truly relaxes once she sees them.

Vanessa’s awake.

She’s awake and she’s going to be okay.

“The fuck…B-Brooke?”

“I’m right here. You’re okay.” They’re words Vanessa’s said to her countless times, and it feels good to day them back, to be the one comforting her.

“Brooke, what happened? There was lightning, and then I…I can’t remember. Did I…” Her voice shakes through rushed breathing, eyes wide with fear, and Brooke knows the word she can’t bring herself to say.

Brooke stretches her hand over and Vanessa grips back weakly, breaths calming. Ra’jah and Nina had visited today, and they decided that telling Vanessa the truth was the best thing to do. So Brooke does, explaining that the lightning overpowered her heart but her CPR and ice repaired the damage and restarted it.

Thick tears fall from Vanessa’s eyes as she finishes. Brooke’s not sure if they’re from happiness over being alive, or from thinking about how she almost wasn’t, which Brooke has been pushing out of her own mind.

Brooke longs to do more than rub her thumb over Vanessa’s hand and whisper that it’s okay, but Vanessa is asleep again before she can try to get up and kiss her. —

They get home and collapse into bed.

Vanessa is weak and exhausted, pain meds easing her discomfort, and she lets Brooke tuck her under the covers without a word of protest. Some of her color has returned, making the non-stick bandages covering her burns even more ghostly in comparison.

“Do you need anything?” Brooke asks.

“Just stay with me.”

Brooke slips under the blanket and rubs Vanessa’s back soothingly. She hates seeing Vanessa suffer like this but it’s nice to relieve some of her pain, to take care of her and let her hands caress her lovingly.

“Thank you for saving me.” Vanessa’s voice is thick with sleep.

“You don’t have to thank me. I wanted to. I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m so happy I’m still here to love you.” Vanessa pauses. “I might call Nina,” she says, somewhat randomly, and Brooke wonders if all this is weighing on her more heavily than she thought, if the drowsiness is making her extra vulnerable.

“That’s good. I think she can help you.”

“Yeah.”

Vanessa is asleep seconds later. —

“Do you want to talk about what happened in the church? It’s completely up to you,” Nina offers.

Brooke stares at her lap. She holds the squeeze ball but is too tired to play with it. She hadn’t even wanted to come to therapy today, but Vanessa had asked her to.

Brooke shakes her head. “I just can’t right now. I’m sorry.”

“That’s alright. I think it’ll benefit you to talk about it though, once you feel ready.” Nina pauses, and Brooke glances up to see overwhelmingly kind eyes. “Can I ask you something?”

Brooke nods.

“Have you thought about dancing again?”

She shifts around, clutching the ball tighter, spinning words from her thoughts. “Kind of. I- it’s like I picture myself dancing, but I haven’t thought about actually doing it, if that makes sense?”

Nina nods. “Would you consider it? Because from what you’ve learned and what you remember, it seems like something that was important to you, that was a big part of you.”

“I…I remember feeling happy, and free. I think I loved it. But what if I…never mind, it’s stupid.”

“Your thoughts aren’t stupid, Brooke. What if you what?”

“What if I forgot how? What if I try but I can’t do it?” Sometimes her muscles ache with the longing to twirl and spin and leap, to float like nothing can touch her, like the scars from the lab don’t exist, but part of her is afraid she won’t even be able to balance right, and dancing will be just another piece of her gone forever, another reminder of what she lost.

“That’s not stupid at all. I understand why you’re concerned. But even if you’re not perfect, I think this could help you get more in tune with yourself and your body and relax a little. And it’s possible that your body might remember how to dance once you start moving. But only if you want to. You won’t know unless you try.” —

Vanessa spends days on the couch with Riley nestled into her chest, not even changing her pajamas or showering, refusing any company. Brooke makes chicken soup that Vanessa only eats a few spoonfuls of. And she’s quiet. Almost scarily quiet, and she stares at the TV but Brooke doesn’t think she’s actually watching it.

Brooke tries not to worry. Vanessa has been through a lot. Brooke knows she can get through this, but it might take her a while to feel okay again, to feel like herself again, and Brooke understands. Vanessa is there for all her bad days, and Brooke will be there for Vanessa too, and for every one of her bad days. She makes sure Vanessa drinks enough water and applies her burn cream, but gives her the space she knows she needs.

Vanessa goes to Nina a week later and when she comes back her eyes are a little brighter and her shoulders aren’t so stooped, like a weight was lifted off them. She eats a few more bites than she had all week, and says she made another appointment.

Brooke kisses the top of her head. “I’m proud of you, Ness.” —

Brooke continues to take her medication, and she thinks she feels better. It’s like the buzzing that had always been in her head is fading, and she never knew how loud and distracting it was until it wasn’t there. The colors and noises outside aren’t as sharp, no longer fraying her nerves and assaulting her senses.

They spend the days leading up to Christmas in the kitchen, Vanessa leaving the couch for a bit as Brooke goes through every pot and pan and bowl they own and nudges Vanessa away from doing the dishes because she’s supposed to take it easy, body still sore even though she no longer winces every time she moves.

She looks at the tree twinkling, Vanessa petting the animals. She’s been eating more and is slowly starting to come back to herself. Brooke wipes tears from her eyes.

She can’t believe this life is hers. —

Before they know it, Christmas Eve is here. Vanessa said Christmas Eve was the wild night in her family and Christmas Day was just for relaxing and eating leftovers, and they’re both pulsing with energy.

Brooke finishes the red velvet cake and emerges from the shower to see Vanessa has washed the dishes and made French toast.

“Ness, you didn’t have to do this…” She insists as Vanessa plants her in a chair.

“I wanted to. It’s our first Christmas together and your first one after the lab, and I want it to be special.”

Brooke’s body tingles as Vanessa sits in her lap and kisses her forehead.

She knows it will be special just because Vanessa’s there. —

Yvie brings noisemakers and the crackers that pull apart and get sparkles everywhere because she saw them in a movie once, and Scarlet almost breaks her ankle tripping on one when she tries to dance.

They make enough noise for a hundred people through dinner, and Brooke sees how much they all needed this after the past few weeks. Her lips seem permanently stretched into a smile, a far cry from when her mouth twitching the wrong way could get her slapped.

There were days during her time at the lab when she woke up in her apartment and the loneliness almost crushed her, and she knew deep down that if anything happened to her, no one would even care.

Tonight, she looks around at everyone laughing and smiling, bright eyes shining like Christmas lights, stuffing themselves with food she made, and Brooke feels safe and whole and–loved.

For the first time she can remember, she knows what it’s like to have a family. —

Vanessa loves her robe so much she has to model it up and down the living room, paired with the thigh-high black boots and gold hoop earrings Brooke got her. She howls as she opens a box stuffed with chip bags, Vanessa’s favorites and crazy kinds Brooke found online just to see Vanessa smile over grilled cheese and coffee flavors.

Brooke is warm from head to toe like she’s wrapped in a giant blanket, running her fingers over the soft sweaters Vanessa got her and thinking of all the decorating she can do with her new baking supplies.

The tears start when Vanessa opens the photo album. She told Brooke once that she had given A’Keria her mom’s old family photos for safekeeping. She always wanted to put them in an album but never did, and Brooke enlisted A’Keria’s help to do just that.

Vanessa smoothes her hand over the glossy pictures, breaths short through her wide mouth. She takes Brooke’s hand, and Brooke understands.

Vanessa’s crying only increases as she rips the chili-pepper wrapping paper on the small box Brooke hands her, revealing a tiny snowflake necklace, the first of the two Brooke’s been fidgety over.

Vanessa is quiet as it rests on her palm.

She hates it. What the hell was she thinking, getting her a snowflake necklace?

“Is it okay?” Brooke asks.

“Brooke, I love it. I love it so much. It’s like you’re always with me.” She puts it right on, and it glitters in the light like real snow.

Vanessa passes her a box papered in snowmen, expression hopeful and a little nervous. Everyone stops opening their presents to watch expectantly. She pulls the lid off the box and her heart nearly bursts.

Tucked inside the tissue paper is a pair of soft pink pointe shoes.

Brooke’s mouth falls open as she strokes the silky texture, suddenly hit with the memory of leaping through the air, weightless, with lights on her and music strong in her ears, in shoes just like these. “How-how did you…”

Vanessa grins. “I called Plastique to see if she knew what ones you wore. I had a whole page of notes on sizing and shit, I felt like I was looking at the damn DaVinci code. But I’m 99 percent sure they’re right.”

“They’re perfect.” She kisses Vanessa’s cheek as her legs burn from being on pointe and her ears ring with distant applause, all she can do to thank Vanessa for the freedom and memories she’s given her.

Ribbons and bows and wrapping paper fly around the room like missiles as everyone unwraps the rest of their presents. Yvie screeches over her tarot cards, Scarlet’s excited yell over makeup almost breaks a mirror, A’Keria says she will be taking her spa trip soon to get away from Silk’s nonsense, thank you very much, and Silk fawns over her new tech equipment, a bow that no one’s told her about still stuck in her hair, hushed bets placed over how long before she notices.

“I have one more for you,” Vanessa winks mischievously.

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “So do I.”

“We going in our room for this. Don’t want all you nosy hoes in the way.”

They head down the hall to a chorus of “ooohhhs”, and Brooke tries to ignore the pang in her chest at Vanessa’s weary, restrained movements.

Vanessa closes the door and immediately rambles to herself, a sign of rare nervousness. “Do I have to kneel a certain way? I used to get smacked for going on the wrong leg in church. You know what, screw it.”

Vanessa lowers herself onto both knees. She pulls a tiny box from behind her back and opens it, a ring nestled inside the velvet, glimmering in the light.

Brooke’s jaw drops as her stomach leaps, tears immediately welling up.

“I didn’t rehearse this or anything, but Brooke…what can I even say? You gave me a life I didn’t know I was missing. You make me happier than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you. I love how kind you are and how you always take care of me. I love when you put your head in my lap and let me play with your hair. I love that you love me for me and don’t try to make me change who I am. I love how you always get frosting on your nose when you eat cupcakes. I love falling asleep next to you at night and waking up next to you in the morning, and getting to see you everyday. I love you, Brooke, and…will you marry me?”

Brooke can barely speak, love overflowing from her and filling every inch of the room. “Yes, yes, I’d give you a thousand yeses if I could.”

The love in Vanessa’s eyes is overpowering. Brooke crouches down and lets Vanessa slide the ring on her finger, and it’s a perfect fit, just like their bodies intertwined in bed. She pulls Vanessa in for a kiss, and everything vanishes. Vanessa’s lips are the only oxygen Brooke needs, and the two of them are all that matters.

“You said you had one more?” Vanessa prompts.

“See, the thing is…” And Brooke reaches into her pocket and pulls out a box.

She knows that what’s inside will be more than just a ring to Vanessa, but it’s more to Brooke as well. Even when she was free from the lab, it’s something she never thought she’d have the courage to do. But Vanessa helped her not only escape her chains, but want to shatter them too, and with this ring, she feels she’s destroyed the last link encircling her wrist.

“Brooke,” Vanessa is giggling through her tears as Brooke unveils the ring.

“Um, so I practiced this with Nina, and she’s also an ordained minister and offered to do the wedding, but anyway, here goes.”

She takes a breath, reminding herself that there’s no need for the jumpiness in her stomach. “Vanessa, you…you saved me in more ways than you know. Even when I didn’t know who I was, I knew who you were, and it’s because of you that I am who I am now. I’m not scared to wake up in the middle of the night anymore, because you’re there. You’re so kind, and gentle, and you’re by my side for everything. And I want to be by your side, for the good and the bad and even just the normal stuff. I want to hug and kiss you and make you breakfast and take care of you. I want to be there for you singing in the shower and taking forever to pick a movie and burning your mouth on cookies right out of the oven. I love your laugh and your smile and how strong and funny and brave you are and how you always smell like potato chips. Ness…I look at you, and I know everything’s going to be okay. You’re my best friend. I love you so much. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Vanessa squeals between sobs before burying her tear-stained face in Brooke’s chest.

This might be the only Christmas Brooke remembers, but it is undoubtedly the best. —

Everyone acts too natural when they return, Yvie almost falling off the couch in an effort to look casually sprawled across it.

“Well?” Silk demands. “Did you do what we think you did?”

She and Vanessa both display their rings, bursting into laughter.

“Y’all really are useless lesbians,” A’Keria mumbles. “Silk, I want my money, hoe! I told you Brooke was too much of a softie to let Christmas go without a proposal!”

“You two make me want to throw up,” Yvie declares.

“That’s one of the best compliments Yvie has,” Scarlet promises.

Silk leaps off the couch, red bow still hanging tough in her hair. “Enough with the tears, Momma’s got a bingo game to win!” —

They fall into bed later that night, exhausted but lightheaded with bliss, ready for Christmas Day with everyone all over again.

“We’re gonna get married,” Brooke whispers incredulously.

“I know,” Vanessa grins back.

They fall asleep with their ringed hands locked together in a promise of love.

[underthemoon-overthestars]

A voice in the Dark - Aftermath

She'd been running, most of the day and well into the night.  After being shot at by New Canton and chased by various mobs of people and undead she felt she had nothing left to carry on. Sam changed that his rambling to her even though he didn’t know she was still alive, it made her want to come home and after picking Sam’s transmissions to her that's where she was heading. He told her to run towards the red beacon; that they were telling him to go to bed and that there was a horde heading in. They always headed over by Abel; she hadn’t been there long but she heard them some nights when she couldn’t sleep. she didn't know if they were the Same zombies or new shamblers, it had never occurred to her before as she had never given it any thought, zombies are zombies and they were behind her. a few shamblers had made it to the gates. Sam had warned her that they were going to lock the gates, as they did every night to stop any zombies getting in.

Exhaustion had almost overtaken her when she reached the crest of the hill, she could see Abel, there was runner 21 and 18 on the sentry, one of them had spotted her and ran to alert Sam and raise the alarm. She heard Sam suddenly full of life again shouting she made out the words “I can see you”, “open the gates” and “you're home”. She made it through the gates and collapsed breathing heavily.

The gates came down behind her, she was home. The edges of her vision were foggy, not sure if this was from tears, exhaustion or if she had got something in her eyes from landing on the ground, she didn't care.

She heard steps, hurried steps running to her the voices seemed far away and the more she strained the quieter they became.

“Five, Five” Sam was shouting her name, people had begun to crowd waking up from tents and the few blocks of ‘housing’

“grab her left arm Evan, I’ll grab her other arm we can get her up”  Sara and Evan scooped Five up from the ground she had lost consciousness but she was breathing and there were no obvious bite marks and no coughing which was a good start. “Sam she's out cold, run on ahead Evan and I have got her we can take her to Maxine, you can let Maxine know that she’s okay, unconscious, but no bites or anything untoward. Go on we can manage Five.”

Sam ran off in the direction of the medical building, eager to relay the message to Maxine.“everyone make room, go back to the bunks or go to the rec centre.”

“we will give you an update when we know anything, now runners back to bed, we've got runs in the morning. now go!” the onlookers and runners dispersed quickly at Evans request, as head of Runners they did tend to listen to his orders more often than they would Sara’s but they obviously thought Five had died, either New Canton had shot her or the Zoms had turned her. she was the last person they expected to run back through the gates.

Sam filled Maxine in just as Sarah and Evan brought her through.

“lie her down on the bed, I’ll look her over, but you're sure Sara, no bites? She's very lucky, especially in the dark. She's extremely dehydrated” Maxine ran her hands over Fives skin, she had a few bruises and an occasional small scratch likely from the branches as she ran through the dark woods. “can you all please leave, I will give you an update on her condition as soon as I know anything” Sara and Evan looked at Maxine their own stubborn looks as if to say ‘i’m not going’ were met with Maxines cold glare and crossed arms, they glanced at each other and nodded.

“I'll come in first thing check on Five if that's okay Maxine?”  “Both of you get some rest, I’m sure you both have important runs to do tomorrow, sure you can come and check on her tomorrow Sara but for now I need to finish her examination, get some fluids into her and let her rest.” A smile danced on Maxine's lips as the two runners walked out, she continued to examine Five, checking more for any internal damage, broken bones, bleeding etc.

She had already removed Fives trousers before she realised Sam was still there. He looked a little pale and shaken, he had hold of her hand tightly, not too tight so that it hurt, just tight enough so he knew she was really there, he stroked a strand of hair from her face and caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Sam I didn't even realise you were still here. go get some rest Sam, Fives okay she’s resting and so should you, the other runners need you tomorrow.”

“Maxine, can I stay? I need to make sure she's okay; I want to be here when she wakes up. I thought I’d lost another runner, don't think I could take losing another one, especially so soon after Alice.” Sam's eyes had tears in them, she couldn't force him away, she didn't think that Five had been around long enough to get so attached but she also knew that Sam cared about his runners, he was still so human after everything that had happened since the out break.

“you can stay, there's a chair and some bedding over there but you've got to stay out of the way Sam, so no hand holding just sit and get some sleep” Sam looked at his hand, sheepishly he put her hand down and fetched the chair and blanket.

Maxine removed Fives t-shirt it was dirty cold and wet but no tears in the fabric. She had on a black sports bra underneath. Maxine checked her chest and abdomen before slightly lifting her to check her back and neck. Maxine also checked Fives head for any lumps, bumps cuts or scrapes of which there were none and no sign of any broken bones. she walked across the room and wheeled over an iv stand with a fresh bag attached. she opened a sealed package containing a needle and hooked it up to the i.v drip, she cleaned the area around her elbow, tied a tourniquet and placed the iv into the blood vessel that appeared just below the surface. Maxine looked at Sam a warm smile on her face. “no broken bones no external wounds no worrying bruises. I think this may be a case of a very lucky runner with shock, dehydration and a few small contusions. Sam shes going to be fine, a little rest and she will be just fine.” Maxine released the tourniquet and walked over to the cupboards pulling out a blanket, she placed it over Five to keep her warm. "She's resting Sam, and you should too" Maxine stifled a yawn and stretched a little. "I'll be back to check on her in a few hours, just promise me you'll get some sleep" Sam nodded silently at Maxine as she turned to leave. "I didn't realise how close you two were" "We weren't really, but, I guess I didn't want to let myself get too attached then when Janine almost got her killed today with New Canton I realised I didn't really know her but I still cared. Max when I saw her ahead of the horde running back, I thought she was dead and she came back she’s the only one who ever came back." "Sam you're overtired and understandably a little emotional just rest and you and Five can talk in the morning, we can all talk in the morning." With that, Maxine walked back out into the dark leaving the two alone. Sam leant forward in his chair his arms on the bed. "I meant it when I called you my friend, I know so far we've not spoken much its been a bit crazy since you got here, no excuse though I guess, I'm really glad you're back and you're alive, I'm sorry about the ice cream rolls and for everything I said. Look at me saying sorry and you can't even hear me I’ll see you when you wake up Five then I will really say sorry." Sam yawned and moved backwards in the chair pulling his blanket tight around him.

Morning came around quickly and Janine out of guilt for her part in Five being out all night checked in on her 3 times before being reassured she would get an update once Five had finally woken up. A few of the runners checked in before heading out for their scheduled runs. It was almost midday by the time she had woken up. She looked around confused at her surroundings until the events of the previous day flooded back. She was home, no longer alone in the dark.

[xadoheandterra]

Title: Bitter Night Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Chapters: I | II | III | IV | V | VI Characters: Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ardyn Izunia | Ardyn Lucis Caelum, Kings Guard, The Fulgurian | Ramuh, Celestia Ulric Tags: Time Travel, Fix-It Of Sorts, Angst, Hurt, Comfort Eventually, Ardyn and Noctis are both Assholes, Fuck the Gods Summary: He hadn’t known what he was doing. All he knew was that he felt bitter in this endless night–bitter that the story needed to end like this. It felt like the Bad Ending and–well, Noctis hated getting Bad Endings in his games. He refused to.

So Noctis refused.

Out of all Astrals only one never demanded anything of Noctis. Only one of the Six didn’t speak to him in riddles or set forth a challenge that he near couldn’t complete or tried to kill or devour him. Only one, aside from perhaps the Draconian, did not sleep and require Lunafreya to waken—and Noctis felt all the more grateful toward the end that Luna hadn’t needed to commune with Ramuh; needed to begin to forge a Covenant for Noctis with the Fulgurian. Noctis didn’t want to imagine what the lightning would’ve done to her if she had needed to—how it would’ve soaked into her bones and blood and left her with tremors. Noctis could remember the feel of it as it lit him alight, the buzz beneath his skin as the storm raged around them—a little like home, really.

Now—now that silence burned like a sickness in Noctis as he stared, and stared, and Ramuh stared back. The clouds hung in the sky, but no storm followed the Stormsender. The men of Lucis kept back and away from the God, and the crackle of lightning that formed a clear line between Noctis, Ardyn, and them out of reverence or respect or fear—Noctis didn’t care which. He cared for Ramuh to answer him. Angelgard had been a prison of Ramuh’s undertaking, or so the Cosmogeny would have Noctis believe. Angelgard was a place where Ramuh Judged, and all who were found wanting Perished and yet Ardyn alone remained chained, in the dark, and tortured with the light of the sun. Noctis wanted to know—viscerally and in a way he couldn’t explain—he wanted, no, needed—

Noctis needed to know—was Ramuh complicit? Did Ramuh know of what the line of Lucis had done to the First? Did Ramuh care that Ardyn—a healer chosen by the people, chosen by the Six, suffered for the crime of merely existing now? If Ramuh did how could he condone it—unless he ate up the same cock and bull story that the Draconian tried to feed Noctis in the Crystal, that the Glacian told to him with the touch of frost in her wake, so cold that one couldn’t even think. Ramuh kept his silence and it burned with Noctis.

“STORMSENDER!” Noctis roared. “ANSWER ME!”

The Glaives whispered, shocked, but Noctis ignored them. He kept bright, pink eyes upon the God even as his strength wavered and his hands shook. His legs were numb and he wanted to fall—to crumble to the ground and cry because this? This, here? This was not the Lucis he thought to inherit. He knew that Ardyn had been wiped from history—there was no record of Somnus Lucis Caelum ever having a brother except in the deepest, darkest pits and tombs long forgotten. History ignored Ardyn and remembered only the Accursed—remembered Adagium. It set wrong with Noctis, that bitter pill of truth that his family had essentially removed such a crucial part of their history—and why? Why had the Founder denied the First? It made no sense, to Noctis, to write a man out of history so completely.

Ramuh bowed his head, and then reached a hand down, gaze settled on Noctis first, and then alighted upon Ardyn’s downed form with a sluggishly bleeding headwound. Noctis tensed, ground his teeth together, and let out a sharp, “YOU WILL NOT TOUCH HIM!”

Ramuh paused. For a second there was blissful silence, and then the storm rumbled on the distance and the God settled back. He blinked lazily down at Noctis and Noctis felt only grateful that there were no words, like the Archeon, that trembled through his mind and left him with a blazing headache that sparked on the edge of seizing. He felt grateful that there was no cold to draw his mind into a sluggish haze, or water with which to drown him followed by the high, cackling nature of the Astrals’ first language—or even Ifrit’s fire as it burned around and through him. Ramuh’s words were as silent as the god himself—but they were there. Noctis could feel them, like impressions in the blood.

Ardyn was not guilty, Noctis realized, which alone was the reason why the man still stood and Ramuh did not reign down Judgement upon him. He could not interfere within the prison elsewise—it was for mortals to do, to take the innocent from this place once affirmed that they would not be Judged, and it was the mortals that failed. None stepped on the island now as Ramuh would find them wanting anyway—since they refused to treat upon a man as a man, and instead signaled him daemon. Noctis wondered if Ramuh alone could’ve wiped Ardyn away if he cast down his Judgement, if Ardyn were truly within the wrong, where the Glacian could freeze and shatter the man only for him to return healthy, hale, and otherwise unharmed.

Noctis glanced to Ardyn and then back to Ramuh. “Are you certain?” he asked, voice softer, hoarser. His palms were sweaty around his blade and slipped along the hilt for a second. It jerked Noctis downward and nearly undid his precarious balance. Ramuh leaned forward and Noctis looked to Ardyn again, and then back to the God of Storms. A second later Noctis closed his eyes and murmured, “Very well,” and the God reached out. Noctis did not fight the hand that grasped him, even as his strength left him. He did not fight as the God pulled him up and into the Storm that now began to pelt the ground below.

Sleep, whispered the winds, and Noctis found himself so very tired. He felt uncomforted to let his life rest in the hands of any of the Six—but Ramuh was the Storm and the Storm was in Noctis’ blood, even if he knew so very little of it. There was a reason why Ramuh deigned not to send a test after the King of Light beyond to seek out his sigils in the storm, the signs of his presence to awaken the lightning in his blood.

Noctis drifted, and then slept.

King of Light, Son of Storms, Chosen to Right the Wrongs Past—the words echoed like a lazy haze when Noctis woke up, surrounded by heat and warmth. He knew within a second that he was not upon Angelgard, or within Lucis, the minute he opened his eyes and gazed at the simple furnishings above him. There were suncatchers of the likes that Noctis could remember a scant few times in the poorer districts of Insomnia—and tangles of beaded twine that hung around them, near the window. Outside Noctis could see green and light—and he pushed himself upward to sit for a moment, the stared down at his legs when they refused to initially move.

“Right,” Noctis mumbled. He’d forgotten the sudden paralysis that came after his foolhardy decision to fuck Bahamut and his shitty destiny. Granted Noctis had never thought his ability to walk would last forever—whatever Lady Sylva had done to grant him return of his legs would not be permanent, not after a year of damage left to fester. There were times were Noctis found he couldn’t even use them, although often the pain and immobility were temporary.

With a tired sigh Noctis grabbed one leg, and then the other, and moved them over toward the edge of the bed. He tried to look around the room, to find a way more dignified than a crawl to get from the bed to the door, but nothing jumped out at him. Noctis bit his lip and scowled with the pent-up feeling of frustration that curdled in his gut. Just when he finally began to work himself past the sting to his pride at the thought that he must drag himself to the door, it swung open.

The woman on the other side of the door had a dark head of thick hair wrapped into a loose singular braid over her shoulder. Noctis could count within three flat coins that were attached to the tie at the end of the braid. Her eyes were wide in surprise, faint age lines drawn thin as everything about her seemed to stretch—and then she huffed and set the basket down.

For a second Noctis hadn’t even realized the woman had spoken, until she repeated her words in clear and concise Lucian, “How are you feeling?”

Noctis eyed her, let his lip go from between his teeth, and then breathed out heavily. The woman took this as a response, hummed lightly, and looked him over shrewdly. She bent over and began to rummage through the basket until she pulled out a cloth and a jar—sweetwater, Noctis realized when the faint lavender and berry scent hit his nose—and carefully dipped the cloth before she reached out with her hand.

“May I?”

Noctis cautiously inclined his head. With a smile the woman shifted closer and began to drag the cloth down his arm from his elbow. Noctis watched the motion and felt the faintly magical touch of the water like little pinpricks of energy. After a second Noctis dragged his gaze back toward her face. He waited until she moved onto his other arm before Noctis asked, “Which island?”

It didn’t take much for Noctis to place where he was; the little charms, beads, and coins coupled with the sweetwater told him everything he needed to know really. The fact that he had drawn upon Ramuh when he was dangerously close to stasis—after already pulling on his connection with the Glacian to frost over Ardyn’s chains—left Noctis with little worry about where he found himself. Instead what really worried him now was where Ardyn was. Obviously not in this room—obviously—

“The Stormsender brought you to the mainland,” the woman said lightly. “It has been three days. Your brother still yet sleeps.”

Noctis blinked. Brother? She meant Ardyn; she had to have meant Ardyn. Thinking about it they did look a bit like brothers—although Ardyn wore the stain of the Scourge on his skin. If Noctis ignored that, imagined the man with dark hair and pale blue eyes, he could see the resemblance that two-thousand years and a hundred generations couldn’t quite erase. Beyond even that weren’t they brothers, in a way? Chosen tools of Bladekeeper and his vaunted Prophecy and all of that utter nonsense that made Noctis want to curl his lips into a sneer.

Instead the King of Light looked over the woman and let none of his festered thoughts show on his face. “He’s alright?” Noctis asked, voice faint, and he tilted his head to the side as the woman moved to rub the cloth along his neck. It brought the faintest curl of an uncomfortable grimace to his face, and he debated the merit of telling her to just stop—but the water felt nice against his skin and he could see the stubborn look in the faint lines on her face.

“He rests,” she said, dipped the cloth back into the sweetwater, and rubbed at the other side of Noctis’ neck. “Although not peacefully.”

Noctis sighed and tilted his head the other direction. He said a short, “Thank you,” aware that it edged just toward the side of being rude. The woman clucked her tongue and Noctis continued, “Madam…?” and he left the sentence leading as she pulled back and looked him up and down.

“Ulric,” Madam Ulric said, faintly approving. “Celestia Ulric.” Carefully Madam Ulric packed away the sweetwater and cloth and got back to her feet. “My husband will be back from his Hunt shortly. I will come and collect you then.”

Noctis ducked his head down, then frowned as he tightened his grip on his legs. He still couldn’t feel it aside from maybe a faint pressure, and even then Noctis couldn’t tell if that was his legs or his hands really that he felt the pressure from. A second later Noctis sighed heavily.

“I…can’t walk.”

Madam Ulric eyed him, then nodded. “I will have a chair for you.”

“Thanks,” Noctis mumbled as the door closed.

[musicalluna]

what needs, part v

warnings: for unethical medical practices, graphic descriptions of injuries

part iv | part iii | part ii | part i

thank you to @onemuseleft and @samurljackson for their help getting somewhere!

--

"Peter," Steve whispers, and then flinches when that beckons him forward. He makes a noise that can only be called a whimper and backs up again. Clint smoothly releases Steve to step around and intercept Peter before he can get to Steve.

"Hey, why don't you go wait downstairs in your dad's lab?"

"What?" Peter cries, the betrayal stark on his face. "No! I need to be here with—"

"Peter," Clint says again, cutting off his line of sight. His voice lowers, but Steve can't not hear it from this distance. "I know you want to help. I know you do. And I'm not saying you can't. But right now, Steve needs you to not be here."

Peter's eyes are glassy and red from welling tears as he stares at Clint. "But..." he says, and it's so heartbroken that Steve has to dig his fingernails into his own arm to keep from pulling him into a hug. He doesn't deserve it though. Clint's right, Peter doesn't need to see the wreck he's become.

Clint hugs him instead and Steve gets only a bare second of eye contact before he lowers his gaze to the floor. His teeth creak from the force of clenching them together and he swallows rapidly to keep the words behind them.

After what feels like an eternity, Peter shudders and sniffles and shuffles off toward the elevator.

Except just as Clint turns back to Steve, Peter turns as well and he bolts past before anyone can stop him, latching onto Steve and immediately soaking his shirt. "I love you. I'm sorry. I'm not mad. Please be safe. I love you."

Steve barely has time to process it and just as Clint's hand touches Peter's shoulders he lets go and heads for the elevator once more at a quick pace, hands stuffed deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched up around his ears. The sound of him stifling his sobs and JARVIS quietly telling him that Jane is waiting for him in Tony's lab are cut off by the doors closing.

Steve huddles there for a frozen eternity, shame and disgust and exhaustion swirling inside like a toxic tornado of every mistake he's ever made until a hand on his arm brings him abruptly back to reality. It's Clint, gently prying up his hand.

Clint looks about as old as Steve supposedly is—and right now he feels every one of those years—but he manages a smile and squeezes Steve's hand. "Come on, let's get this thing off. Post-modern science lab chic is not your style. Let Tony pick out your jewelry in the future okay? He's got questionable taste in ties, but he knows his wrist accessories."

Steve doesn't have anything left to respond to that so he just nods and lets himself be helped to his feet. He doesn't know where they're going, but he really doesn't care either. He just wants everything to stop.

His leg won't take his weight, but Clint doesn't say anything about it, just carefully puts Steve's arm around his shoulders. Bruce snakes an arm around Steve's waist and gingerly cups his ribcage, offering support.

Tony is talking. "Yeah, I'm gonna join the conference call Jane's got going, so— Hey, let me— Real quick. Steve?"

Steve stops and bites his lip against the sigh—or maybe sob—and instead says, "Yeah, Tony?"

"We're going to fix this, okay, sweetheart? You just keep being your usual stubborn self and hold on for me. That's an order, you got that?"

Steve's eyes close and he nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I got it. I love you," he adds, hating how desperate it sounds, but he might not get another chance and he has to— Tony has to know, he has to hear it at least once more because he doesn't always believe it if Steve doesn't say it outright. "I love you. I'm sorry."

"I love you too," Tony says, quiet and sincere and Steve gasps for air, the words like a fist to the gut. "I'll be home soon," he says and the call cuts out.

They start moving again, cautious as they pick their way through the ruin Hulk made of the penthouse.

“I'm— sorry,” Steve manages between labored breaths. “That you...changed.”

Bruce's fingers tighten slightly around his ribs and Steve winces, but he bites his already raw lip and keeps quiet. “Steve,” Bruce says, low and harsh, “shut up.”

It doesn't make Steve feel better, but he doesn't suppose he deserves to anyhow.

The journey down to the lab is a difficult one and Steve's breaths are coming in sobs by the time they get there. He's been injured much worse, he's sure of it, but the exhaustion has made it impossible for him to manage the way he normally might. He's never wished so badly for sleep and it feels like every bit of him is hypersensitive; the light hurts his eyes and Clint and Bruce's hands hurt where they touch him, despite no injuries in those places. Everything is agony.

Knowing that everyone is seeing him like this makes it that much worse.

“Hang on, Cap,” Clint murmurs and he and Bruce help guide him onto the couch in the corner of the lab. Peter and Jane are at one of the benches, heads bent together.

Steve can't help the noise he makes as he sits, pulling the stitches on his ribs and accidentally gripping Bruce's shoulder with his broken fingers.

When he opens wet eyes, Nat is there, kneeling next to him on the couch. He cringes and immediately hates himself for how sad she looks.

“I know you're hurting,” she says as though he hasn't just broken her heart, “we're going to be gentle as we can, but we want to look you over, okay?”

Her hand is just a whisper on his face. He gives her the faintest nod and she kisses his forehead.

That's when Sam and Bruce join them.

“You look like hell,” Sam says. His face pinches when Steve doesn't say anything in reply. He sighs. “Let's have a look at you.”

“All right, Steve,” Bruce says, voice deliberately and carefully steady. “Tell us everything. If something hurts, even a little, you're going to tell us.”

“Everything hurts,” Steve rasps and the three of them exchange a look.

They cut Steve's shirt open so they don't have to put him through the process of removing it, which he's equal parts grateful for and mortified by.

The second they pull the fabric away from his body, Bruce's jaw clenches so hard Steve can see the muscles stand out in his cheeks. Sam's eyes go wide and he sinks down to his knees on the floor at Steve's feet. “Jesus Christ, Steve,” he breathes. Natasha's eyes go dead.

It makes him want to cover back up.

Steve hasn't taken a careful look at himself, but he knows it can't be pretty. There are bruises on the inside of both his elbows and a few needlemarks from the blood they've been taking nearly every day. More on the back of his hands from IVs. He has two six inch cuts between different ribs on either side of his torso, each stitched up with at least fifteen stitches apiece. He has another ten below his bellybutton where they did the exploratory surgery. It shouldn't still have stitches since that was nearly a week ago, but it's healing slowly. There are at least half a dozen spots scattered from his scalp to his toes where he's got two or three stitches where they did some of the larger biopsies. Then there's his broken fingers. The pinkie and middle finger on the right and the ring and pointer on the left—so they could splint them with the neighboring fingers.

That's only the stuff that's left visible marks.

“I see why you said everything hurts,” Natasha says, voice nearly devoid of emotion.

Sam glances up at Bruce as he pulls on a pair of gloves. “You all right?”

“No,” Bruce says, voice reverberating deeper than it should. He jerkily puts on his own pair of gloves. Steve feels wretched for putting them through this.

They each start at either end of his body, inspecting his wounds one by one. Despite his rage, Bruce's fingers are meticulously gentle.

“Well,” Sam says when they meet in the middle, “looks like they did patch him up right at least.”

Bruce snorts darkly. “They weren't expecting Tony to get back for another week or so, they probably thought they could get away with it without him knowing. When Tony sees—”

“When Tony sees what?” comes Tony's voice. Bruce turns toward it and over his shoulder, Steve sees Tony on one of the lab's video screens. He sees the moment Tony spots him and then the way his eyes go wide, horror stealing over his features. “Steve,” he breathes.

Steve's first instinct is to tell Tony he's fine, but he bites down on the words knowing it will only make Tony angry. He can't stand the thought of Tony being angry at him right now.

Tony swallows and looks between Bruce and Sam, his face pale. “Is he— How is he?”

“Fucked up,” Sam says honestly, “but he'll be all right. It looks like they've taken care of the wound sites pretty well.”

“Once we get the cuff off and he gets some rest, I think he'll improve quickly.”

“Then let's figure out how the hell to get it off.”

Peter slinks over as Bruce, Sam, and Natasha go to join Jane by the video display. Steve can see Tony watching him between their bodies, worry etched on his face.

“Can I...sit with you, Dad?”

The backs of Steve's eyes burn. “Of course you can,” he says hoarsely and lifts his hand to draw Peter closer.

Looking relieved, Peter leans over and grabs the blanket on the other end of the couch before sliding carefully down next to Steve, folding his long limbs underneath himself and spreading the blanket out over the both of them. He's careful not to put too much pressure anywhere they touch.

He looks like he could use a hug, but Steve's not sure he won't black out if he tries. Real reassuring, he thinks.

“I'm sorry, Peter,” he says.

Peter gives a one shouldered shrug. “Yeah, you should be. Pretty stupid.”

Steve huffs and then winces.

Peter pulls out his phone and then spritzes his knee with a little bit of webbing, sticking it in place.

Steve makes a noise of disapproval. “Peter. You'll muck up the blanket.”

Peter waves off his concerns. “Dad can get it cleaned. What do you want to watch?”

Honestly, Steve's too exhausted to even consider it. “You choose.”

With a few deft gestures, Peter picks something out and gets it started.

Steve tries to pay attention, if only to keep his mind off his discomfort, but focusing on anything for more than a few seconds at a time takes more effort than he can spare. His hip aches where the bone marrow biopsy needle had gone in and his hands feel like burning stumps at the end of his arms. He can forget about the cuts, but only in between every breath.

Glancing over at where the team is huddled together around a hologram of the cuff around his wrist, Steve hopes they'll figure something out soon. His body is screaming at him to sleep and putting it off just gets harder and harder.