#getting a tube shoved down my throat that will let me pulse blood from my mouth more organically | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonbaby26 · 4 years

Text

Title: Escape

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader

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

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

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

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

——————————

“The day of reckoning is here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Peter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How naive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was one of you then, a mutant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’d freed you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

—————————

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/N)?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. What was he talking about?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not helping. AT ALL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For you? Of course.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You aren’t quite building confidence here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It really was going to be the longest day ever.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

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

440 notes · View notes

isshebreathing · 3 years

Text

Sharing my first resus story, please be kind:

Bringing up our child pt: 1

We sat together on the sofa trying to avoid the heat. Both sprawled out in nothing but a tank top and underwear, her bulging belly mounted in the center of her body like a rapidly growing hill to climb.

I was the one who wanted to give birth to a child, she would have been perfectly fine with adoption, but I was so desperate to experience a pregnancy my weak heart could never support that she agreed to carry our child.

Pregnancy had been awful for Lizzy, I knew it but she never complained, she would never complain because she loved me that much. She sat up suddenly and asked for antacids, it wasn’t uncommon so we’d started keeping them all around the house like little candy jars. She chews two and sits up to get more comfortable, despite siting directly in front of the air conditioner and a fan I notice beads of sweat forming on her forehead. These hot flashes had been happening at night, she’d wake up covered in sweat, make her way to the bathroom and take a cold shower, then make her way back, to bed I’d sit with her in the bathroom and offer to get her ice or a cold washcloth but she always declined, “just need to wash the sweat off” she’d say.

She was usually so reluctant to accept help, which was why I was surprised when she asked me to get her a cold washcloth and some ice.

As soon as I got back panic began to rise in my throat, she had shifted from the sofa to the floor on all fours, panting as her body started to drip with sweat. “Call for help,” she said weakly, “I can’t get up.”

“911 can you please give me your address?”

“1217 east main st, my wife is pregnant and something is wrong, please send someone to help, she looks really bad, she can’t get up and she’s dripping with sweat.”

“Okay ma’am I need you to stay calm, is you wife breathing?”

“Yes she is, she’s on the floor on her hands and knees, she can’t get up, she’s breathing really heavily”

Lizzy looks up at me with pleading in her eyes and doesn’t try to reassure me, I know something must really be wrong.

“Ma’am I need you to give me this info okay”

My mind snaps back into the phone call as I realize the dispatcher is trying to get information from me.

“How far along is she?”

“Six months, she’s due in September, she hasn’t had anything like this happen before, please hurry, I have a heart condition and I cannot help her up”

“Ma’am they are coming as fast as they can…”

I panic further as Lizzy’s eyes roll back in her head and she face plants into the floor, letting out a horrific groan and violently seizing

“Oh my god send help now she’s having a seizure”

“Okay ma’am you’re going to have to be calm to help her okay,”

“Don’t tell me go calm down bitch, my wife and child are seizing uncontrollably on the floor, I will freak out as much as I can thank you.” I think to myself.

“Is she still seizing?”

“Yes.” I snap back, “Oh fuck how long has it been”

“Okay I need you to roll her on her side and make sure there’s nothing in her mouth that she can choke on.”

I grab her back under her bloated belly and heave her onto her left side, she continues shaking and gasping in a horrific noise, I pry her mouth open and sweep my finger through it as a sickeningly pale foam gorges out.

The seizing slows but she continues to gasp horrible breaths, desperate for air. Her body goes limp as she desperately tries to pull air into her lungs one last time. Her eyes glaze over as she stares off into something that I cannot see.

I push my two fingers to the side of her throat to confirm my worst fear, her heart has stopped.

“Fuck she’s in cardiac arrest, send someone now!” I scream to the dispatcher as I rush to the front closet to get the “just in case” kit that Lizzy put there after one of my episodes. “Unlock the front door” a large note says on top, reminding me to open the house for the paramedics that I pray would be here soon. A wave of appreciation for my wife’s continuing fear that I would suddenly drop dead washed over me.

I rush back to her and I see her lying there sickingly still and with a blank stare as her body rapidly turns a horrifying gray/blue color.

“Ma’am can you hear me? What is happening now?”

I realize I haven’t responded to the dispatcher since screaming about Lizzy going into cardiac arrest.

“She’s in cardiac arrest, we have a defibrillator and a breathing kit, I have a very weak heart, I need help now”

“Ma’am they’re coming as fast as they safely can, what is happening now”

I flip Lizzy on her back and try to stay calm as the mound of her belly turns the same sickingly gray/blue color as the rest of her body. I rip off her top and have a bashful moment as her milk swollen breasts flop off to the sides, distracted for a moment by how beautiful my wife’s full and soft body was. I put one AED pad in between her breasts and lifting her up gently to place one between her shoulder blades. Putting one on her side like is usually advised would risk the shock jumping over to the baby and forcing the fetal heart rate out of control. The shock had to go directly into Lizzy’s heart to try and convince it to start.

“Analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient.”

The wait seems like hours before it says “shock advised”

I hesitate before pushing the flashing button, a shock goes through Lizzy jolting her limbs in an unnatural form as the mound in her belly shakes.

“Check pulse, if no pulse continue CPR”

I stick my fingers below her chin and feel nothing.

“Fuck please send someone now, I have a very weak heart I can’t do much CPR”

The dispatcher replies but I don’t comprehend what she says as I lock both of my hands over her chest and push down as hard and as fast as my weak and pathetic body will allow me to.

“One and two and three and four…” I count to myself, it’s the only thing from my YMCA CPR class that has stuck. I get to thirty and I swipe my finger through her mouth again removing more yellowish foam that I now notice has red streaks in it.

I tilt her head back and pinch her nose shut, I can feel my heart weakly pounding as I cover her mouth with mine and weakly breathing into her as her chest rises, I repeat the action again, then frantically comtinue compressions “one and two and three and four and…”

The defibrillator pipes up with its computerized voice again, “analyzing rhythm, do not touch patient.” I feel weirdly comforted that I have this sentient machine by my side.

Another agonizing few seconds pass before the machine says “shock advised” as the machine is powering up I look in the orange bag my wife diligently packed never expecting it to be used to sustain her own life, I see an ambu bag attached to a mouthpiece and another little bag with a hose attached and a note that says “O2 concentrator” I connect the tube to my oxygen concentrator and turn it on I hear the loud air intake noise as I push “shock” again.

The shock is stronger this time, Lizzy’s body contorts again in an unnatural surge. I push my fingers into her corroded again and feel nothing. I stick the plastic piece into her mouth to keep her tongue out of the way and slip it into the mask, and then squeeze the bag as two deep oxygenated breaths make her chest rise more than my pathetic weak lungs could ever imagine.

I lock my hands in the center of her chest again and start compressions “one and two and three and four and…” I can feel my heart start to murmur and skip from the strain.”

“Somebody please help” I scream in desperation, the thought of losing both my wife and child slips through my mind as I pump her chest harder, fully prepared to kill myself in order to save them.

My head starts to spin as I fill her lungs with another breath from the ambu bag. There’s a ringing in my ears as I start my weak compressions again “one and two and three and four and…” I feel my body weaken knowing it will never be enough. “I’m so sorry Lizzy” I thought as I failed to keep her heart beating for either her or our child.

I feel a hand on my shoulder pull me back as a hand puts an oxygen mask over my face as I gasp to fill my useless lungs with air. Someone shoves a nitroglycerin tablet into my mouth and slips a pulse ox meter on my finger.

“That’s it honey, deep breaths, just like that” they say.

I weakly try to remove the oxygen mask and choke out the words “no, her, baby”

“They’re on it” the woman moves aside to reveal three paramedics surrounding Lizzy and working in a perfectly choreographed dance.

One woman pounds on Lizzy’s chest so hard her breasts and belly cave in as a sicking “huf huf huf” sound escapes her mouth with each compression.

Another man kneels buy her feet with a stethoscope to her belly.

“We have a fetal heartbeat, holding steady at about 100, baby’s very stressed though.

I am suddenly terrified for the life of my child. “Please stay alive baby,” I thought, “I will give my weakly beating heart to keep you alive”

I continue to suck up oxygen through the mask as I feel my chest start to open and my heart return to a normal pace. I notice Lizzy’s feet bending inward with each intense compression as they rock her whole body. I see another medic tilt Lizzy’s head back and slip a metal hook into it to force her jaw open and insert a plastic tube. She suctions up the blood and foam that had been blocking Lizzy’s throat, then hooked up an ambu bag and forced precious air into her lungs.

“STAND CLEAR” someone yells and I see them blast another shock through her heart. This one was stronger than the others and her body jolted and then hit the ground flopping uselessly like a rag doll.

I watch in a haze until the words “we have a sinus rhythm, let’s pack up for transport.” snap me back into reality.

The paramedic kneeling next to me says”we have your wife and baby back but they’re still in a lot of danger, we are going to take them to the hospital now. You are going to follow them, your heart rate is very high and your pulse ox is very low.

99 notes · View notes

sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

Text

His little sister and her big brother

They’re eating a late dinner in their room. Raga is drowning her plate with spices while Paz patiently tries to get food into his mouth with his right hand while his left hand is being tugged and manoeuvred about as Liita chews her own food and studies his clunky, old vambrace.

Half of his haul falls off his fork as Liita abruptly turns his hand again to eye where the fuel tube connects to the metal. She’s clearly not pleased with the emergency repair she had to do the last time it fell apart.

“I don’t get why you don’t just replace this vambrace. It’s complete crap.” Liita says.

Raga pauses in her spice-mayhem and looks at Paz. She knows why.

Paz shrugs and dives back in with his fork to get a decent pile on it again. “I like it.” He lies and quickly shoves his food into his mouth before she makes him drop it again.

“One day that tube is going to fail mid-battle and you’re going to explode into a ball of fire.” Liita grumbles, turning his hand again. “Idiot.”

Paz chews, pulls his hand free and flicks a finger at her forehead. He grins at her angry flail and lets her have his hand again to keep fidgeting and complaining about the vambrace.

Raga goes back to eating as well.

It’s disgustingly early the day Paz stalks around and looks for his grey t-shirt with growing frustration as time is running out. “Are you sure you didn’t take it?” He opens a drawer.

“I’m sure.” Raga snaps in a voice tight with irritation as she waits for him to finish packing.

Paz slams a drawer shut and straightens to stare at her. “Well, it’s not here.”

“Well, I didn’t take it.” She counters, with a touch of anger now.

Paz’ eyes narrow. He knows she loves that grey t-shirt, loved it from the second he acquired it during their teenage years (The fabric had been pitch black back then.) and that ever since; she has hoarded and worn this particular shirt more than he has. But he also knows that she wouldn’t lie about taking it and if he pushes her any more, she will punch him in the face.

Grumbling, Paz grabs another shirt and stuffs it into his bag. Fine. He’ll find it when they get back from their mission.

And he does.

“I got you the part you wa…” Paz comes to an abrupt next to the ship Liita is working on, currently parked outside the Covert, and he sees her climb out of the hammock in the cargo hold. She has a sleepy look on her face and her skinny frame is wearing his missing grey t-shirt. (Which is ridiculously big on her.) “Hey. That’s my shirt!”

“Yeah. I know.” Liita yawns and walks over to grab the engine part he’s holding and he’s too surprised to keep her from taking it. “This looks mint. Thanks.”

“I was looking for that shirt.” Paz says, frustrated. “I accused Raga of taking it.”

“That was stupid of you.” Liita says, walking away while studying the piece in her hand.

“I want my shirt back!” Paz shouts.

“I bet if I ask Dad, he’ll say I can keep it.” Is her smug reply and Paz blinks. Oh, that little troll…

“It’s my shirt!”

He does get the shirt back, but only in time for Raga to steal it. Him whining, ahem, complaining about it only ends in Raga pushing her chest forward, smiling and sweetly asking if she doesn’t look good in it and he kind of forgets what he was complaining about…

It’s raining when Paz is playing a board game with a friend and Liita walks into the Covert.

She sheds her raincover and walks over to where they are sitting. “For the record, he asked for it.”

Paz keeps his gaze on the board. “What happened?”

“I was working on the ship.”

Paz’ friend moves a piece and Paz calculates his options. “Uh huh?” He moves his piece. “And?”

“And I noticed several of my tools were gone. Again.” Liita grits her teeth and crosses her arms. “I told Drallah not to touch my stuff. Those were brand new and expensive. Dad got me those.”

“Mhm.” Paz says, watching as his friend’s hand hover over the pieces while trying to decide which move to make next. “And then what happened?”

“I went over to his place, found him and my stuff.”

“What did you do?”

Liita shrugs. “I took one of the wrenches and smacked him across both of his poleyns. Once he’d stopped wailing and squirming around on the ground, I told him next time I’d do it without him wearing his armor.”

Eyes still on the board, Paz raises his hand towards her, palm up, and waits for her to high-five him. She does. “That’s my sister.” He says, then returns all of his focus on the game again while she wanders off.

One day Liita is sitting on the bed, calmed by Raga braiding her hair as usual, and she frowns at the sight of Paz removing his helmet after joining them in the room.

“Your hair is growing out.” Liita states. “You’re all fluffy.”

“Yup.” Paz replies, running his hand through the flattened locks, ruffling it a little, and savours the predatory look in Raga’s eyes.

“Why would you-” Liita then wrinkles her nose with disapproval and glares at him. “Stop it. You’re being gross.” She elbows Raga. “You too.”

Raga cackles and Paz deliberately lingers on how much he loves that sound and how beautiful she looks…

“Stop!” Liita clamps her hands over her ears, trying in vain to block out the feelings he’s emitting as if they were sound waves.

Paz tilts his head, sees the growing grin on Raga’s face as she realizes what he’s doing and feels a hot pulse in his blood when she waggles her eyebrows quite suggestively at him.

They both burst into laughter when Liita breaks and makes a run for the door with a frustrated shout.

It’s an entirely unremarkable day when Liita enters the room and Paz barely looks up from his datapad. Raga is in the shower, nothing interesting is planned for the day and he’s just lazing about.

Liita climbs into bed and shuffles over to sit nearby him, but she doesn’t say anything.

As silence is nothing new when it comes to her, it takes a while before Paz glances over. But once he does; he instantly lowers his datapad and she has his full attention.

Liita looks… off. There is something wrong. Sure, Liita has a closed off or somewhat grouchy expression on her face by default, but this isn’t that. She looks uneasy. Upset? “What’s wrong?”

Liita shakes her head.

Paz puts the datapad away and sits up properly, despite his armor not exactly working with him here. “Talk to me. Tell me what wrong?”

She hesitates, but eventually Liita draws a deep breath and starts talking. “It’s nothing. It’s really nothing. It’s stupid.” She clears her throat and shifts a little. “Am I ugly?”

She could not have surprised Paz any more if she’d slapped his bare face. “What-no!” He reaches out and takes a hold of her chin to make her face him. “You are not ugly. Who said you were?”

Liita puts on a brave face, but she keeps her gaze lowered to his chest. “No one.”

Paz leans a little closer. “Who?”

“He didn’t use the word ‘ugly’, okay?” Liita carefully lifts her gaze to look at his t-visor. “Just that I was no fighter. Too skinny. And weak. That I didn’t look like a proper Mandalorian.”

“Who?” Paz repeats, having to grit the word out through the anger choking him.

“Makeiset.” Liita mumbles.

Paz releases her chin, gets out of bed, slams his hand on the door opener and stalks out of the room.

The first thing he does is check out Makeiset’s quarters, but he’s not there so Paz goes on the hunt. He marches from common room to common room, every Mandalorian he meets throws themselves out of his path, and finally, he steps through a door and sees his prey next to the room designated for blaster target practice.

Despite Makeiset wearing his armor, the way he freezes up and radiates guilt makes it easy to picture all the colour draining from his face when he sees Paz Vizla and the fury rolling off him.

The second Paz takes a step forward, Makeiset makes a run for it. Growling, Paz takes up the chase.

Mandalorians, tables, chairs and even part of a closing door goes flying as Paz goes after Makeiset like an enraged mudhorn. Speed is usually not his thing, but the underground Covert is made out of narrow corridors and countless turns, so speed is less important than persistence.

And Paz is determined to get his hands Makeiset, who runs for his life and tries every trick possible to shake off his pursuer or slow him down. Nothing works. Paz’ blind rage trumps everything. There is no place to run, no place to hide, no help to be had from others.

When he finally does get a hold of him, when his fingers goes around the guy’s neck and Paz yanks him backwards in mid-sprint, there is a satisfying cut-off scream that ends when Paz slams Makeiset’s back against the wall.

Breathing hard, Paz uses all of his height and bulk to loom while venting a little by slamming him against the wall again, three or four times for good measure. “Listen to me, you insignificant little turd, if I ever hear you badmouthing my sister again, it will be the last thing you do.”

Makeiset tries to push him away, tries to pry his fingers off him, but it’s not working. At all. “I just said… she’s weak. And she is! Skinny, weak and no fighter.”

Growling, Paz plants a fist into Makeiset’s ribs where no hard armor can protect him from the harsh impact and the wheeze of pain is music to his ears. “You question her Mandokarla?” He punches the ribs again and then plants a shoulder against him to keep him pinned against the wall instead of collapsing to the floor. “She saved Din from bleeding to death. She crashed a frigging ship into the killer of Davarax as he was about to cut my head off. She has faced things that would have given you nightmares. And you have the nerve to call her weak?”

Paz grabs Makeiset by the breastplate, yanks him forward and sends him slamming face first into the opposite wall and then grabs his neck to hold him upright and pressed against it. “You will apologize to her. And you will mean it. Understand?”

Makeiset garbles something. It sounds like ‘yes’.

Paz lets go and the guy crumbles into a heap on the floor. He glares at the coughing and cringing shape. “If bodies were built on courage, she would have been twice the size of you.” The contempt he feels for Makeiset is dripping from every word. “You don’t deserve to wear that helmet.”

Walking away, Paz fights against the urge to pummel the guy some more.

Life as a Mandalorian is rough, yet Liita can handle it, he knows that. She can take a punch and hand out a punch, no problem. But what Paz will not tolerate is someone making his little sister sad, or have her doubt her place in the Covert or their clan.

When he comes back to the room, Paz finds Liita and Raga sitting on the bed and he marches over to crawl in and sit with them. Wrapping his arms around Liita, he leans over and gently taps his helmet against Raga’s.

Squirming and trying to push him away, Liita makes an annoyed grunt. “What did you do? Where did you go?”

Paz hugs her closer. “I had to get away from you for a bit. You smell.”

“I do not smell!” Liita declares with no small amount of outrage.

Raga shrugs, joining in on the lie with glee. “You kind of do. Like a wet Wookiee.”

“Do not.” Liita turns her glare towards Raga and absently leans back against Paz, relaxing. “Liar.”

“You want to go to the market in town tomorrow, Shorty?” Paz asks.

Liita frowns and glances back at him over her shoulder. “You want to go? With me?” Her voice is dripping with suspiciousness.

“Yeah.” Paz replies, knowing there is one thing she won’t be able to resist. “I need your help to find a pipe sleeve or a clamp for my vambrace. The tube is leaking again.”

Liita grunts with reluctant approval. “What you really should do is replace the entire vambrace. But, fine, we can try to keep you from turning into a walking pyre.” She leans back against him again and gets comfortable. “What you’re going to have to look for is-”

And off she goes on a rant about parts and materials that some Paz partially know about and others he has only heard of in legends from ancient times. But, the most important bit, is how her facial expression is now back to slightly annoyed and secure to the point of arrogant in her knowledge.

That is worth hours of waiting for his little sister to decide what to buy at that stupid market tomorrow.

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Paz Vizla #Paz Vizsla #Liita #Liita Vizla #Raga Saxon #Sibling tribulations #the one shots start coming and they don't stop coming

74 notes · View notes

defiblover27 · 4 years

Text

On The Court

I’m in my teams locker room getting ready for the first game of our tournament. We made it all the way to the national women's college volleyball tournament. This is my senior year so this is my last chance to get a title. I put my long brown hair into a ponytail before putting on my white head band that wraps around my head. I pull my black jersey over my black sports bra supporting my B cup breasts. I slide my knee pads up my toned legs and secure them in place. Finally I put on my white sneakers and look at myself in the mirror. I never imagined when I was younger that at 22 years old I would be at this level. I’m only five foot two but I have trained hard for this day. My team huddles up and gets pumped up for the game. This is what we have trained for and we wont let anything get in the way. The gymnasium was packed, all our friends and family were there to watch us play. The first whistle blew as the other team set the ball. The first few minutes went great for us. We were winning and it looked like an easy win. A few moments later I start to feel lightheaded and start to lose vision. I back up slightly to approach the bench but I never make it. Before I realize what is happening my legs give out and I fall onto the court. I can’t move and I can’t see anything. I hear faint voices getting close to me. Did I pass out? Why can I still hear them? “Someone get the nurse!” I hear my couch shout. “Call 911!” another voice says. What’s going on? I feel someone's hands between my breasts. Who is touching me there? Then there's a sharp pain. They are pushing down hard and fast on my chest. No this cant be happening, someone is giving me CPR, I can count the compressions as my chest caves in. After thirty compressions someone tilts my head back, opens my mouth, pinches my nose, and gives me mouth to mouth. I feel my lungs inflate each time air is forced into them. They give me two breaths before the compressions start again. Before I know it someone I feel someone cutting my jersey off. The place these large sticker like pads on my chest. One between my breasts and one on my lower left side. Suddenly I don’t feel anyone’s hands, “Analyzing do not touch patient” I hear in a mechanical voice. I remember learning about these in health class its an AED. “Shock advised do not touch patient.” It says again. Oh crap I know what comes next, this is gonna hurt. “Pressing flashing shock button now” I feel a sharp pain course throughout my body as the shock is delivered. I feel someone’s fingers pressing into the side of my neck. “She has a pulse!” they exclaim. Thank god, my heart is beating again. It is hard to breath but I manage to get some air. Why am I not waking up? Shouldn't I be awake now?

I feel a tube run across my face and little ones placed into my nose. The paramedics have arrived! They give me much needed oxygen. They roll me onto my side and place a long hard object against my back. They roll me back over and place straps over my body. They shove two large blocks against my head. I feel constrained as if I couldn't move even if I wanted to. They lift me up and place my on a gurney before rolling me outside into the ambulance. I feel cold metal run across my body as the paramedic removes all of my clothes. They strip me naked for the whole world to see. Stickers are placed on my chest and wires are connected to them. I hear a beep and then another, they have me heart rate monitored and I can hear each time it pumps. There is a quick prick in my left arm and then a warm sensation as they start an IV. Everything is going well and I think that I am finally back but, I still can’t seem to wake up. I want to wake up I just need to open my eyes. Suddenly I feel a pain in my chest like the one from before. They beeps in the distant become faster and faster. Why is my heart beating so fast? I can’t hear the beeping anymore... a sharp continuous tone feels the air. “She’s coding hurry up!” Coding? Did my heart stop again? I get my answer before I can think. The paramedic places there gloved hands between my breasts and gives me CPR. This time it hurts more than the first time as they push down with all of their force over and over again. I feel a rib pop from the force of the compressions. A mask reeking of plastic is sealed over my mouth and nose as air is forced into my lungs. They rip the AED pads off of my chest. “Charging to 300″ I hear the paramedic call out. There is an electrical whining as the defibrillator is charged. I feel two cold metal paddles placed against my chest but they also have a cold gel on them. “Shocking” before I can prepare myself the shock courses through my body. I feel my chest try and rise up but I am constrained by the straps of the backboard. “No change charging again” Why didn’t the shock work this time? The paramedic uses one hand to compress my chest. I feel my ribs cave in each time. In a moment the paddles are back on my bare chest and I am shocked again. “Asystole” I hear them call out. My heart still isn’t beating. Is this it, is this where I die? There hands are back on my chest as the continue CPR for what seems like an eternity. They leave my chest for just a few seconds as they push a new fluid through my IV. This one burns as I feel it course through my body. As the compressions continue my heart begins to quiver again. “V-fib charging to 360″ The whining of the machine fills the air again. The paddles are back on my chest and I am shocked again. The higher voltage causes a greater pain as I try to make my heart beat again. “No change” The fear is increasing as I wonder if they will be able to save me. The ambulance stops and they roll me out. The paramedic straddles my body and I feel their pelvis pressing against mine. They continue CPR on me as they roll me into the hospital. Now even more people will see my nude body.

I am rolled into a room as one of the paramedics tells the doctors what is going on. “22 year old female, suffered a cardiac arrest at a volleyball game. Was brought back to normal sinus by the AED. Crashed in the ambulance five minutes ago. Has been given one round of epi and shocked three times. Currently in V-fib. Continuous CPR the entire time.” The paramedic gets off of me as they lift me over to a new bed. The straps are removed and the wires are plugged into a new monitor. A nurse takes over compressions while someone else opens my mouth a puts a metal hook into it. I feel them force a long tube all the way down my throat. There is some kind of strap wrapped around my neck as they secure the tube. “Charge the paddles to 360 please.” I feel multiple sets of hands on my body as they each fight to save me life. In a moment the paddles are back on my chest and I am shocked. This time my head snaps back and I feel my chest rise into the air before crashing back down onto the bed. “No change charge again” CPR is continued as my heart takes a beating. Before I know it the paddles are on my chest and everyone backs away. “All clear, shocking” My arms flail off the bed as my chest rises and falls again. “Asystole, push epi and resume compressions” I remember that word, asystole, that means my heart isn't moving at all. The burning sensation returns as the medicine is forced into my body. I feel someone pull my eyelids open but I can’t see anything. They shine a bright light into my eyes and then pull it away. “Pupils are sluggish” I feel my arms bounce up and down with each compression that I am given. Each second feels like an eternity as they fight for my life. “V-fib charge paddles to 360″ I hear the whining of the machine and a squirting noise as they place more of that gel onto the paddles. CPR is stopped and the paddles are placed on my chest again. “Everyone clear, shock” I hear the doctor say as I am defibrillated again. My feet twitch and I feel my toes scrunch up before relaxing again. “Again” For just a few second hands are between my breasts and pounding away before the paddles are on my chest again. “All clear, shocking” Bam I am shocked again as I feel my hands form loose fists and my chest rise and fall. “Back in asystole, what's her down time?” I hear the doctor ask. “Twelve minutes doctor” a distant voice responds. “Prepare a thoracotomy tray please” What the hell is that? CPR is continued and a fluid is splashed all across my left chest. I feel a blade cut away at my side below my breast. Blood pours out and I hear in trickle on the floor. They suction away some of my blood. They place metal bars in my chest and spread my ribs apart. I feel the doctors hands wrapped around my hear as he squeezes it rhythmically. They push more medicine into me and two minutes later I am back into a shockable rhythm. I feel two spoon shaped metal paddles placed into my chest and around my heart. “Charge to 20 joules” They back away from my nude body and the paddles deliver a shock. My body twitches but the pain is greater than the previous ones. “Charge to 30 joules” Again the paddles shock me as my toes scrunch and my body twitches. “No change charge again” I hear the doctor whisper something “Come on girl” he wants me to come back. I feel the shock course through my heart as my body jolts. There is a moment of silence. A sharp tone feels the air as the doctor slowly removes the paddles from inside my chest. “Downtime?” he asks. “Eighteen minutes.” a voice responds. No one is squeezing my heart, there are no paddles in my chest. All there is a a ventilation every few seconds filling my lungs. They shine the light in my eyes again. “Pupils fixed and dilated.” What's going on? “Time of death 14:47″ What? No please keep going I’m not ready to die. I feel them disconnect the bag from the tube in my throat and the tone is silenced. They wipe the gel off my chest and disconnect the wires. They wrap a sting with a small card on it around my big toe. They drape a sheet over my naked body and leave the room. That’s it... I’m dead.

#defibrillator #defib #cpr #resuscitation #resus

127 notes · View notes

babi-correia · 4 years

Text

What Could Have Been (Part 13)

Words: 1655 Warnings: Poorly written medical stuff, mention and treatment of injuries, PTDS (kinda?)

When you come to, you’re having trouble breathing, and if that isn’t enough, the previous events rush to you all at once and your thoughts spin out of control. Suddenly, you’re not in a building in the middle of Chicago anymore; you can feel yourself being blinded by the scorching sun from Afghanistan, you can see the dust in the air, feel the sand under you.

“No, no, this isn’t happening.” You panic, feeling the searing pain on the right side of your hip. Your breathing picks up and your hands start shaking. “I’m in Chicago, I’m in Chicago, I’m not a Marine anymore, Deft Hawk is over.”

You repeat it to yourself like a mantra, shutting your eyes and feeling the tightness in your chest increasing.

“Get me out of here!” You manage to shriek, feeling a scratch in your throat. “For the love of everything, get me out!”

Jay looks at Kayla as she stops dead in her tracks, her ears perked up as she presses her nose to the floor.

“You got something there, girl?” He asks, giving her more lead as she moves around and starts whining. “Good girl! Can you find an entrance?”

He unlatches the leash as Kayla searches around, stopping by a displaced slab of concrete. He hears a faint voice coming from under the rubble and his heartrate picks up as he crouches.

“I got something here!” He calls out as he grabs the concrete slab and shoves it out of the way slightly, creating a tiny gap that exposes the hallway underneath.

The firefighters gather around him, someone calling out orders that Jay doesn’t listen; his mind rests solely on the fact that you’re probably down under the rubble, and he must find a way to get to you.

The firefighters join him in moving the concrete slab, opening the gap more and more until a person can go through. Before anyone can process what’s happening, Kayla jumps in and starts barking and running. Jay curses and thinks for a moment before jumping after her, ignoring the calls from the firefighters behind him.

“Halstead!” Severide calls out, making him look up. Jay sees him and Stella peeking into the hole, concern stamped on their face. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I heard her, and I’m not leaving her down here alone.” He says, his jaw clenched tight.

“Wait a bit.” Stella says, earning a confused look from Severide as she gets up and calls someone over. “Move back!”

A bag falls to the floor in front of him, and he recognizes it to be medical supplies.

“Look, we can’t send anyone else in there, it’s too unsafe. We’re going to secure everything the most we can and help you get her out, but for now you’re on your own.” Severide informs, looking glum. “That’s why you shouldn’t have jumped in.”

“I don’t care about that.” Jay says, picking up the bag from the floor and hearing Kayla bark in the next hallway over.

“I’m going to be on channel 3.” Will’s voice comes through before he peeks from the hole too, his red hair disheveled and sweat dotting his forehead. “Be careful, Jay.”

“Always.” He mutters, turning around and calling for Kayla. The dog comes to him and he clips the leash back on her vest before petting her. “Good girl, c’mon, let’s find her.”

The dog runs ahead of him, expertly dodging the debris and apparently following a pre-determined path. Jay slows down as he sees a firefighter’s helmet on the floor, the “3” in the front staring at him and making his heart skip a beat.

“C’mon Kayla, find her, c’mon.” He mutters to the dog, who looks back at him with big eyes and blinks. “You have to find her, I don’t know what I’ll do with myself if you don’t.”

Kayla whines and moves forward, turning a sharp corner and pulling at the leash, making Jay follow her. His breath hitches in his throat once he turns the corner, seeing you laying on the floor with a metal rod stabbing through your stomach and a nasty gash on your right leg. He hooks Kayla’s leash around one of his belt hoops and rushes forward, kneeling by you and removing your SCBA mask, wincing at the amount of blood sticking to your face and his hand shooting to your neck after a pulse. He sighs in relief when he feels a steady heartbeat, switching the radio’s channel with his free hand before pressing down on the button.

“Will, are you there?” Jay asks, flicking the button to leave the radio open. “I found her, but there’s a lot of blood everywhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean she’s impaled by a metal rod, her face is bloody, and she has a pretty deep laceration on her right thigh.” Jay says, undoing the front of your turnout coat and cutting it free from the rod with a pair of scissors from the medical bag.

“Expose the wounds the most you can, stabilize the rod, and do a tourniquet on her leg. Then, you’re going to start an IV for plasma, you have it on your bag. If you need more, come back to the hole and we’ll drop some more bags in.” Will says, the strain in his voice letting Jay know he’s dealing with other patients as they speak. “Let me know when you’re about to start the IV so I can talk you through it.”

Jay puts on the disposable gloves and cuts away the shirt around the rod, exposing enough skin to let him look and stabilize it. He feels himself paling as he sees the exit point of the rod, his hands fumbling around the bag in search for tape and gauze. He quickly stabilizes the rod, watching as the gauze quickly becomes red with blood, but moving on to your leg.

He unlatches the suspenders in the front and gingerly sets them out of your shoulders, pointing upwards. Kayla lays down by your head and licks your hand, whining as you don’t respond.

“You did good, girl.” Jay reassures, carefully pulling the turnout pants down. He peels away the fabric of your regular pants and winces at the blood coming out. “Oh, that does not look good.”

“What’s going on?” Will asks, reminding Jay his radio is open.

“There is a lot, and I mean a lot of blood coming out of the gash on her leg.” He mutters, fishing the tourniquet out of the bag and tying it around the very top of your thigh. “I don’t know how many plasma bags you have here, but either Severide stabilizes this fast or it’s not going to be enough.”

“Stabilize her for now, then we’ll see how to proceed. Focus on the task at hand, Jay.”

Jay nods to himself, securing a big wad of gauze against the gash.

“I’m ready for the IV, Will.” Jay says, checking everything in the bag again. “What do I need?”

“Take a cannula with a 16-gauge needle. A cannula is a little plastic thing that looks like a cross. The needle’s color code should be gray.” Will instructs as Jay rummages through the bag, making a victory noise when he finds the materials. “There’s a vein that leads to her middle finger, find it. If you can’t find it, grab her wrist until her veins pop up more. Clean the injection site, disinfect a wider area to make sure the dressing will adhere to her skin and not the dust. Once that’s done, insert the needle right atop the vein.”

Jay takes a deep breath, getting a small square of gauze and alcohol and disinfecting most of your hand before searching for the vein. He finds it fairly easily, but his hands are shaking when he places the needle in place. He clenches his jaw as he pushes the needle in.

“Inserted the needle, now what?” Jay asks, unable to keep the shakiness out of his voice.

“Above all, stay calm. You see the green thing at the end of the needle? It’s the catheter, push it forward slightly. It’s normal for blood to come out, it means it’s in the right spot. After that, take off the needle and connect the cannula to the catheter.”

Jay does as instructed, releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding when a small stream of blood comes out into the catheter. He removes the needle and inserts the cannula, grabbing some modified tape to secure it against the back of your hand.

“Done. Now what?”

“Get the plasma bag, place the bag somewhere above her and let it drip into the tube. Make sure there’s no air, and then connect it to the cannula.” Will says, his voice steadier than Jay feels himself. “You’re doing great. After that you can see if you can get her to regain consciousness.”

Jay sets up the plasma bag on a small ledge of concrete, watching as it drips down the tube. Once he makes sure there’s no air in the tube, he connects it and sighs, feeling a weight come off his shoulders.

He gently wipes some hair off your face, getting a gauze and dipping it in antiseptic, beginning to wipe most of the blood from your face when a loud crash makes the whole structure shake.

“What the fuck was that!?” Jay asks, getting silence for a while before the radio comes to life.

“Some part of the access you went in through came down.” Severide’s voice comes through. “Everything is very unstable and we’re doing the best we can, but clearly we can’t rush it or everything might crumble down.”

Jay lets out an irritated groan, sitting down on the floor as he looks at you and Kayla, the dog’s muzzle resting on your shoulder as she lazily licks your neck.

140 notes · View notes

yespolkadotkitty · 4 years

Text

Fighting Blind, pt 19

Masterlist here ~ thank you @heatherbel for the beta!!

Warnings: shameless angst.

I sleepwalked back to my apartment. The noises of London made me jump at first, my movements jerky. Had I locked up the storeroom? The museum staff entrance? I didn’t know.

I didn’t much care.

I had lain on the floor of the storeroom for some time, clutching the axe. Sobbing my throat raw. Willing it to send me back to before. Willing it to let me look into Pero’s eyes just one more time.

Willing whatever magic that it had before to let me hold him, just for a moment, feel his heart beat, bury my face in his neck. Hear his voice.

Just one more time.

I didn’t remember taking off my filthy robes and changing into the spare outfit I kept in my locker for nights out. The nylon fabric felt incongruous; I’d become used to thick, soft robes. My bra chafed.

I let myself into my apartment. Everything was where I’d left it.

My phone chirped in my bag and I pulled it out to see a text from Emma: Don’t stay too late! Reality TV beckons.

It was our little joke since she had introduced me to Ru Paul’s Drag Race, six months ago.

It felt like five lifetimes ago.

I put the phone to sleep, dropped my bag in the kitchen, and dragged myself to my bed, looking ahead of me but not seeing.

I lay down, fully clothed. The date on my bedside clock showed that here, almost no time had passed. I’d been deposited back to almost the exact moment I'd left.

My gaze was unfocused as I stared at the ceiling. My eyes reported back a view of the plain plaster, but in my mind I saw Pero’s last moments. The length of thick red ribbon around my wrist felt unreasonably heavy. I twisted the fraying ends with my right thumb and forefinger.

If I could have cried some more, I would have.

I felt wrung out, a cloth squeezed too hard and then left out on the line until it sagged, dry as bone, moving only at the whims of the wind.

Eventually, I slept, and when I did, I dreamed of my husband’s big, soulful brown eyes, his scarred hands on my skin, the whisper of his melodic Spanish accent in my ear.

*****

I woke up in the middle of the night, shaking. My arm spread out across the cool, crisp sheets, reaching for the warmth of a broad Spaniard who had been killed in battle thousands of years ago.

I clutched desperately at a pillow that did not smell of him, and I waited for dawn to come, silent and dry-eyed, a husk of myself.

The next day, I called in sick.

Emma left me six texts and three voicemails. Marco tried to call all afternoon. I ignored them both, and I stayed curled up on the bed, staring at nothing, hardly moving except for water and bathroom trips.

Eventually, I slept.

No dreams came.

*****

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a sharp rapping on the door jerked me from my half-sleep, half-grief stricken stupor.

“Fuck off,” I moaned to the empty room, my voice paper-dry, cracking. “You’re not Pero. He’s gone.”

The clock showed a whole day had passed. It was just after ten a.m.

The pounding got louder.

I scrubbed my hands over my face, got up wearing yesterday’s clothes. Walking felt like dragging my feet through a carpet of molasses.

I yanked open the door without checking to see who it was.

Emma stood on the other side, and she took me in with wide eyes, her lips parting.

“Um, oh my God,” she breathed, taking in my wrinkled clothes. I probably stank. “What happened? Flu?”

I gazed at her, my very best friend, trying to summon joy at seeing her face again, when I never thought I would. Instead, I just shrugged.

And then she moved forward and wrapped her arms around me, and I let my face fall into the familiar feel of her shoulder, and I cried.

Two cups of tea later, I had unloaded the entire story to Emma, who had listened without interruption, various expressions parading across her elfin face, but, who now almost certainly thought I had experienced some sort of intense mental break.

I wasn’t entirely sure I hadn’t.

“Well,” she said finally, with the tone of someone speaking to a very infirm person or a baby; “You can’t go back to work in this state, can you?”

I gaped at her. “You want me to go back to work now?”

She tugged my hand until I reluctantly stood up from the sofa. “You’ve not got a lot of choice. There’s a man in the staff waiting area and he says he won’t leave until he sees you. Came all the way from America.”

My heart sank further still. I just heard America, not Spain.

Emma herded me into the bathroom, stripped me off as I stared sightlessly at the wall, turned on the water, shoved me under it.

I watched, unfeeling, until the spray hit the red ribbon around my left wrist, and then a cry raked up my throat, and I slid down the tiled wall, curling in on myself, pressing the damp wedding bracelet to my lips, wishing myself back in China. Back in Pero’s arms.

Wishing I could hold him just one more time.

Just one more time.

*****

Emma didn’t say much on the way to the Armouries. What could she say? From her point of view, her colleague had called in sick one day and appeared to have suffered an intense psychotic episode.

I half sleep-walked off the tube, up to the museum. People passing probably thought I was taking very strong drugs.

Emma made me a very strong cup of tea, so strong that perhaps the spoon could have stood up by itself, and steered me to my desk chair. “Sit. I’ll bring the visitor.”

I stared into the mug. “Do I have to? Please don’t make me.”

Emma set her hands on her hips, her face creased in sympathy, brow pinched with worry. “You can go home right after. I swear. Okay? You get one more day of whatever... this is, and then I’m taking you out on the town. London at our feet. Or, you know, twelve hours on the sofa, with popcorn and Ru Paul. Okay?”

I nodded, just to get her to leave.

Time passed; I wasn’t sure how much. I stared at my PC’s Welcome to the London Armouries screensaver, and wondered how much trouble I would get in if I hurled my computer out of the window.

Then I remembered I didn’t even have a window in this office.

I smiled without humour.

A soft knock at the door made me look up. “Come in,” I called, with zero enthusiasm.

The handle turned, and I expected to see Emma, but I didn’t. What I saw made me topple off my chair.

A man with Pero’s face stood in the open doorway. His hair was lighter, cream caramel kissed with autumn, tousled. Scruff adorned his upper lip and the same strong jaw as Pero’s.

The same soulful, deep brown eyes.

The same striking profile, same nose I’d loved the hook of.

I stared at him as all the noise was sucked from the room. My ears rang.

He hurried over to me. “What the- Are you okay?” he asked in a husky-edged, drawling baritone, California with just a lick of Texas.

I stared at him wordlessly. My mouth opened and closed, until I finally squeaked out, “is this some kind of joke?”

The man stepped back, brows furrowed. “Funny. I’m pretty sure that's my line.” He rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw, and that was when I saw it.

The circular mark on the root of his thumb. The depiction of infinity; the spiral, the serpent eating its own tail. Not black, like ink, but the colour of melanin.

My heart lurched into my throat.

This time when he offered me his hand, I took it.

Our palms touched, and something electric chased down my arm. The stranger jerked as if I’d struck him, slapping his hands over his face as he reeled back, hitting the wall and sliding down it. I rocked back on my heels, staying on the floor.

He held his hands over his eyes for a moment that stretched, shaking, his shoulders hunched in.

When he finally looked at me, his eyes had changed. Darker, somehow. His mouth just a little scowly.

My heart jumped like it had been supercharged, because there was my Pero. I was frozen to my spot.

“The dreams,” the man said, very slowly. “I’ve been having these crazy dreams. But they’re.. memories, aren’t they?”

Unable to speak, I nodded.

“They’re my memories. But also… not mine.” He stared into the distance for a long moment, his face pale, wonder sketched on his features. “And this.” He ran the index finger of his right hand over the birthmark on his left thumb. “You did this.” His eyes sparked hazel fire, accusing me of this insanity.

And he was right. I had done this to him.

I held his gaze, my heart in my throat, heavy. “I gave it to you. Before.”

The stranger’s hand eased over his abdomen, resting where Pero had been gored open by Tao Tei teeth. “It feels… fuck, it feels real.”

I swallowed, my eyes burning, stomach bottoming out. Tears streaked down my face and I let them come, my stomach cramping, and for an agonising moment, it was like losing him all over again. In my mind’s eye I saw the blood pulse from him, his life slipping away and me crouched over him, helpless to stop it. “It was real.”

We sat together in silence for, I don’t know how long. I both ached to touch him and feared it. Feared the modern texture of his open-flannel shirt over a white t-shirt. Feared the rough denim of his jeans.

And how would he smell? Not of lemon oil, leathers or woodsmoke. How could he?

“I’m Zach,” he said into the dragging silence. “Zachary Pero Wellison.”

My mouth dropped open.

Zach smiled lopsidedly, pushing a hand over his face. The face that was Pero’s, and yet, not. “So… I guess with the addition of…” He waved his hand between us. “...this, I’m sort of…. Both of us? I’m Zach, but I somehow have the memories of….. Pero.” He pressed a fist to his head and then popped his fingers in a “head exploding” reference. “Is this really happening, do you think?”

I laughed, without humour. “At this point, I don’t think I know.”

Zach huffed out what might have been a laugh. “The shrink sure as hell didn’t cover this in PTSD counselling.”

His deadpan delivery made me smile for the first time since I’d woken up back in 2019.

Footsteps sounded outside, followed by voices that lingered and then, after a minute, moved on. My gaze flicked over Zach, my stomach heartsick. Pero, my Pero, was in there, and yet, he wasn’t.

This was impossible. Everything I had ever learned told me what Zach and I were experiencing just did not happen.

But.

“You’re military?”

He nodded, shrugging off the shoulder of his flannel shirt and pulling up the right sleeve of his t-shirt to show me the bottom half of an intricate tattoo on his shoulder. “Semper Fi. Marines. Buzz cut grew out.”

I ate up the extra view of his body, greedy to know where he would be the same, and where he might be different.

“Glad I never saw anything like… the Tao Tei in Afghanistan,” he said shakily, a self-deprecating laugh escaping his lips.

I held his gaze. “It was an experience. Are you.. I take it you don’t still serve?”

“Nope. Three tours and an honorable discharge, two years on the street, but for the past five I’ve had a steady job. A roof over my head.” He summed up his life so flippantly; his delivery really reminded me of Pero’s nonchalance about death.

I sell my sword for coin, I sleep when fighting has exhausted me, and one day I will die and return to the earth. Simple, don’t you think?”

“Um, so... can I get you a coffee?” I asked, swiping my hands over my eyes. It felt like a monumentally banal thing to say seeing as this man now seemed to hold every memory my dead husband had ever clocked up, but I didn’t have anything else.

“Got any whiskey?” he half-laughed.

“I wish I did.”

“I’m good. Drank about a gallon of it at the hotel. Nerves. I, um…” He lifted those cocoa eyes to mine, and for a second, a heartrending second, it was Pero looking at me. My pulse tripped. “This is... fuck, this is a lot. I really…” He clenched his hands into fists, drawing my attention to that birthmark, the same lines, lines I had drawn, only in that brown shade of skin pigment. “I wanna touch you. Or he does. I don’t know. But… can I? Is that okay? I can’t think about anything else.”

Twin zings of excitement and fear skidded up my spine. “Um… okay.”

Neither of us moved.

Zach laughed nervously, standing. He towered above me as I sat in the corner next to my computer chair. I let my gaze travel up his body, long legs in faded blue jeans, a flat stomach under that white t-shirt, the lines of his torso delineated by the open plaid shirt.

His eyes were soft as he offered his hand again, palm out flat.

This time, when I took it, no lightning. Just a warm touch. His fingers sure and confident around mine.

He tugged me gently to a standing position, until we were only a foot apart, then he let our joined hands fall to our sides. We stood together like that for goodness knew how long, looking into each other’s eyes; his so familiar and yet so new.

Zach lifted his free hand to gently skim his thumb along my jaw, and just like that, the air changed. Each breath I took seemed supercharged as I gazed into his big, soulful eyes. “Zach,” I whispered, and it didn’t feel wrong.

He slowly lowered his head to mine, his eyes constantly flicking to meet mine, checking it was okay. Checking I was okay.

And then just before our lips met, a shudder went through him, and he whispered, “Cielo,” with just a hint of Spanish melody, and there was no way in hell he could have known that word unless-

And I yanked him down to me and kissed him with all the love and yearning and grief in my heart, and he kissed me back. His hands came up to spread over my back, and the warm, solid wall of his chest felt divine.

Perfect.

Bliss.

I opened for him, and he licked into my mouth, his teeth scraping just a little, and I welcomed the tiny hurt, pressing closer into his body. His lips were Pero’s lips, his little shaky inhale the way Pero would sometimes suck in a breath when we kissed. I shoved my hands beneath his open plaid shirt, felt the play of muscle on his back, under the soft t-shirt, and it was like holding Pero. I sobbed into Zach’s mouth and he drew back, frowning.

“Sorry,” I choked out. “I’m sorry. I -”

“I know,” Zach whispered, stroking my hair back. “I was there. He - I - loved you … He loved you. More than anything.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my lips together to stop them from trembling. “This isn’t happening. I would give anything to have him back. Anything. But this is… it can’t be real.”

Zach cupped my cheek, his eyes dark, stormy, and for a moment it was my husband looking at me. “Ask me something only he would know.”

I opened my eyes again. This was like living in an alternate reality of the film Ghost. But real. I felt the floor under my feet. I felt Zach’s palm against my skin, gun-callused, the same way Pero’s had been sword-callused.

“What did he say to me, when we... when I…” The words dried up on my tongue. Suddenly I didn’t want to share, which made no sense. “The first time,” I finished lamely.

Zach dropped his gaze from mine, a flush stealing over his cheeks. “Cielo. Heaven. I will not last,” he murmured, that Spanish melody sneaking, incrementally, into his tone.

My pulse spiked.

No one could know that.

He met my eyes again. “Fuck. I know. This can’t be happening. But it is. Unless we’re both suffering the same delusion.”

I half-laughed. “Unless. God, Zach. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about…. all this.”

“I’m not. I wanted answers to these insane dreams, to the burning feeling on my birthmark, and however absolutely batshit those answers are... I had so many moments over in Afghanistan, wondering what I was fighting for... where my life was going. Always thought - it’s so stupid, but always thought I was just waiting for something. And maybe that something is you.”

My stomach dropped. “Oh, Zach.”

He smiled lopsidedly. “Whatever this is, it doesn’t feel like just my twisted little secret anymore.”

“I-” My heart pounded. “Secret. Oh my God, secret. The axe.”

Zach’s gaze shot to mine, wonder sketched on his handsome features. “I know how to open it.”

*****

I’d never run so fast before. I skidded out of the office, Zach on my heels, past some very surprised visitors and down to the artefact storeroom. I could only hope that no one had been there since the day before yesterday.

Zach stood silently by, but I saw his hands clenched into fists by his side as I swiped my keycard.

It was still there.

The door slammed behind us as I lurched on to the floor, picking it up, uncaring about being without cotton gloves.

Zach held out his hands, and I passed it to him. He gazed at it in wordless awe, his eyes poring over it, fingers stroking reverently.

Then he turned it over, pressed his thumbnail into the slice representing Pero’s scar in the carving on the bottom, and the handle turned, loosening.

I gasped in shock, surprise, joy.

Zach gently pulled the haft loose to reveal a shallow compartment in the metal handle, two pieces of parchment and a loop of crimson lying inside, like the finest of treasures.

With hands that shook, I took out Pero’s handfasting bracelet. The edges were frayed, the fabric so old it had discoloured, but it was his. I lifted it to my lips, felt my heart wrench from my body.

Zach had set the axe down and held the pieces of parchment in his palms. His eyes were wide as he breathed, “I wrote this. I mean, he did. But I remember writing it.”

I paused, the dusty, faded bracelet pressed to my cheek. “What?”

He showed me the yellowed parchment, the writing faded beyond recognition. “The words are almost gone. But I was there. I - he - wrote it while you slept. On the handfasting night.”

The world spun. I braced myself up on one arm. “Would you read it? Please.”

Clearing his throat, Zach closed his eyes, and to my amazement and joy, to my sadness and gratitude, Pero’s voice left his lips.

Querida

You sleep as I write this. My wife, in our bed. Your body and soul more beautiful than I could ever have wished for, in this life certainly. I am not good with words, mi vida, but you must know that you hold my old, scarred heart in your hands.

I think perhaps, you always have.

If you are reading this then I have gone with God, but whatever He may have planned for my old bones, I will carry you with me always.

Until we meet again,

Yours,

Pero

When he’d finished, tears streamed unashamed down my face, wetting my jeans. I couldn’t have cared less.

Zach’s face was drawn, too. He set the two pieces of paper aside and opened his arms, and without a second thought, I crawled into them. He rocked me gently, and I pressed my face into his neck, breathing him in; he didn’t smell of Pero, he smelled of rosemary and sandalwood and coffee, but it wasn’t wrong.

“Thankyou,” I whispered into his shirt. “Thank you, for letting my hear his voice, just one more time.”

Zach said nothing, just nodded. He understood. He always would.

We sat that way for I didn’t know how long. Eventually I roused myself. “Zach?”

A soft chuckle rumbled from his chest. “It’s still me. I think,” he drawled, American again, but that husky-edged voice curled its way into my heart.

“What’s the other piece of paper?”

He lifted one arm to pluck it from the floor. “It’s… what is this language?”

I recognised the penmanship. “Oh my God, it’s Gaelic.” I scrambled off his lap, reaching for my phone. This piece of parchment had been wrapped inside the other, and the words had been mostly preserved. I took a picture of the text, uploaded it to the translation app a colleague at the British Museum had developed. While still in beta, it nevertheless contained many ancient languages.

Within a few moments, a translation appeared, and Zach and I gazed down at the screen as I read aloud:

Jade

The thought that this message may find you in a future many, thousands of years from now gives me pause, I must admit, but since fighting those… Monsters, I find nothing surprises me.

We gave your husband a warrior’s wake. That I swear to you. Lin saw to many of the details personally. After your rooms were cleared I found a note in his hand and I enclose it here.

We captured a Tao Tei in the days following Tovar’s death. We fed Ballard to it. A fitting end for such a waste of air, I think you’ll agree.

And after that, the strategists found the Queen. We think we’re halfway to learning how to be rid of them. Once and for all, I pray.

A year has passed since you and Tovar left me. As I write this, Lin sits beside me with our twins, Jade and Pero, named for the man who saved Lin’s life, and the woman he loved beyond the boundaries of time.

I don’t know what will happen when we die, but we will keep Tovar’s axe in our family as best we can. Lin says she trusts the spirits to take care of it, and after all I’ve seen here, I can’t disagree with her.

She wouldn’t listen even if I did.

We miss you.

With love,

William Garin

*****

A/N: One more chapter to go on this journey. Thank you, thankyou, thankyou for all your love, comments, messages, reaction gifs, theories, THANKYOU x 1000000000. Thank you for indulging my insanity.

Tagging: @babybelou @theravenreads @vanillabeanlattes @alienprincesspoop @knittingqueen13 @lackofhonor @holographic-carmen @thewayofthemandalorian @buckstaposition @thegreenkid @agirllovespasta @chews-erotically @apples-of-february @mstgsmy @songsformonkeys @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @buckysalefty @readsalot73 @restingnurseface @opheliaelysia @emmy-dandiliom918 @prdsdjarin @a-seeker-of-imagination @havenforafrazzledmind @badassbaker @thewaythisis @kindablackenedsuperhero @keeper0fthestars @starlight-starwrites @agentpike @alldatalost @littlemissthistle @cryptkeepersoul @stylelovechild @maryan028 @seawhisperer @emesispo @beccaplaying @hdlynn @jaime1110 @marydjarin @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @mrsparknuts @pinkzsugar @cutepurplehedgehog @ksgeekgirl @skdubbs @roxypeanut @usernameistooshort @tortles

#fighting blind #pero tovar fic #the great wall fic #the great wall au #pero tovar au

184 notes · View notes

ask-them-bois · 4 years

Text

Blood of My Blood

TW: Needles, lots of blood, animal death and gore.

TLDR: Vornik gets his happy ending.

***

Vornik sat in the small hive of the village medic, twisting his claws around the hem of his cloak as said medic bustled about in front of him.

“Alright, guardian, after this one, I think we’ll be able to stop these sessions. Blood transfusions are a nasty business as it is, and for someone like you… well, they can be borderline dangerous.” She turned around, a bag of jade-hued ichor and its attached needle in hand. “Necessary as they may be, after you nearly lost your arm, but still- we should be careful all the same.” She added.

“Jade?” Vornik asked quietly, surprised, “Don’t I usually get olive, since it’s the closest-”

“Mhm. Unfortunately, Mr. Andrin- the fellow who usually donates the blood- broke a wrist last week when he was working on his hive’s roof. Fell off, shattered a horn on the way- nasty business.”

“Oh.”

“This time, the blood’s been donated from a passer-through. Heard we had a wriggler in need of some, and when we told her about our dear guardian, she happily offered some of her own.”

“I’m not a wriggler.” Vornik mumbled as the healer took his arm and began to rub an ointment on the juncture of his elbow. “I’m eight sweeps old.”

The elderly bronzeblood smiled and pat his shoulder. “I know, dear, but you’re a wriggler to me, guardian of our village or not.”

Vornik made no comment, turning his head away as the needle punctured his skin. The healer hung the bag on a hook above his head, and pat his shoulder again.

“Just sit tight, dear.” She hummed, before she turned away.

Vornik did as he was told, watching the emerald blood slide down the tube and into his arm. Even through the thin plastic casing, he could smell the coppery scent of blood. He suddenly sat up slightly, frowning, and took another sniff of the air.

There was something off about the blood, he thought; it smelled… strange, yet familiar at the same time.

“Are you sure this blood is clean?” He asked, squinting at the bag.

“Mhm! I checked the jadeblood for any abnormalities.”

“And?”

“And there was only one, but the jade assured me it was normal for her caste. I had to take her word for it, I’m not an expert on jades.”

Vornik nodded slowly and tried to relax, but his gaze kept drifting back to the bag.

Two hours later, the bag was drained, and the needle was pulled from his skin. The healer tenderly wrapped his elbow in gauze, then passed him a caramel candy.

“These are your favorites, yes?”

Vornik happily took it, nodding as he popped the sweet into his mouth with a mumbled, “Thank you.”

“Anytime, dear. Go on, now- best get home before the sun rises.”

Vornik bid the healer goodbye and slipped out of her hive. He made his way through the village, sucking on the candy. The night was cloudy, only a handful of stars visible through the mounting cloud cover.

Vornik made it to the edge of the village without being stopped, for which he was grateful; as much as he loved the villagers, he felt nauseated and tired, as he often did after transfusions.

After his mountain came down, his arm had been nearly shorn from his body. The muscle had been severely damaged, and the bone cracked. The giant scar he bore now was a giant callous of pinched skin, where his flesh had mended over the lost muscle. After the heavy loss of blood that accompanied the wound, Vornik had been made to undergo blood transfusions to aid in the healing process.

The first bags had been from Innocent, his ancestor’s generosity boundless. But after giving too much at once, the healer had shooed Innocent away so he could recover, and had gotten the blood from other greenbloods in the village. Olive was the closest match, and Vornik’s body had been receptive of it, so every two weeks, Vornik had found himself back in the healer’s hive to receive another dose.

Now, with jade in his veins, he just hoped his body wouldn’t reject the ichor. He’d been healing well- physically, at least- and it didn’t hurt to lift his arm anymore.

Even so…

Alphadad leaped to his feet at the sight of him as he reached the edge of the village, six ears standing alert and three noses nuzzling against his torso.

“I’m okay, alpha. I’m all done, let’s go home.” Vornik smiled softly, petting each howl-beast muzzle in turn. He clambered onto the giant beast’s back, and Alphadad turned, bounding for their mountain.

Vornik shut his eyes and turned his face into the wind as they galloped past his old home, trying to ignore the wrenching of his blood-pumper.

By the time they reached the mountain, the horizon was growing light. Vornik quickly dismounted and hurried inside, with Alphadad just behind him. His pace didn’t slow until he stepped out onto the ledge, and saw his hidden forest spread out below him.

Tension unraveled from his shoulders as he descended the slope, entering the blue-shining trees. The sound of birdsong and insect chirps wreathed around him, buzzing in his ears pleasantly. A stag was drinking from the pool when he passed; it paused and raised its head, but Vornik paid it no mind; the creatures in his mountain were comfortable with his presence now, and he with theirs. He’d forbid his howl-beast brethren from harming any of them, unable to stomach the thought of the near-mystical creatures being harmed.

Ascending the slop on the far side, he entered his den.

Since moving into it some perigrees ago, it had slowly become more and more like his old den; like home.

He had a new pile of furs and blankets and pillows to sleep in, only now they were cradled in a half-egg-shaped frame, to keep them from getting dirty. Barrels of water stood against one wall; back then, he’d set the barrels out on the cliff during storms to gather rain water, but now he just dragged them to the pool when they were emptied.

Above them, with the help of Innocent, Vornik had mounted some shelves into the stone. Utensils, food, tools, knickknacks, paint cans and brushes- all neatly organized on said shelves.

He’d dug himself a proper fire pit, where the embers of the early evening’s flame still smoldered.

At the back of the den, next to his bed and on a small pedestal, was the painted stone from his original home, surrounded by pretty crystals and shells.

Finally, there were the walls; he no longer had miles of mountain tunnels to paint, but he did have blank slates, and luminescent paint. In the flickering light of the embers, glowing howl-beasts and antler-beasts and faceless trolls danced among swirling designs and stars.

Vornik tossed a log and a few sticks onto the embers, coaxing them back into a warm flame. He glanced at the provisions waiting him on the shelf, but he still felt queasy after his treatment. He retreated to his bed, carefully removing his cloak and laying it aside before he curled up among the furs and pillows. Alphadad settled at the mouth of the cave, keeping watch on the trees.

It was as Vornik buried his nose in a howl-beast pelt, already half asleep, that he distantly realized why the jade blood had smelled familiar.

By morning, he’d forgotten. As soon as he was conscious that he was awake, his stomach was gripped with pain. He sat up with a bark of surprise, clutching his torso. Alphadad grunted, concerned, two heads rising to look at their charge.

Vornik panted, his eyes wide with alarm; he’d never felt this hungry, even after going without meals in winter, when food was scarce. He was dizzy, his mouth flooded with drool as he caught sight of the food waiting on the shelves. He scrambled out of his bed and lunged across the cave.

He ripped a loaf of bread from the shelf, barely pausing to unwrap the wax paper as he devoured bite after bite.

Halfway through the loaf, he dropped it, stumbled to the mouth of his den, and emptied his stomach of bread. He moaned in pain, eyes rolling back as he was gripped with more hunger pangs.

Stumbling back to the shelves, he pulled everything down, sniffing them for proof of rot or mold, but it all seemed fine. As his nose passed over a bundle of dried meat, he thought he might pass out again as a new wave of dizziness and drool washed over him.

He didn’t hesitate, ripping the twine off and shoving the meat into his mouth. He threw back his head and groaned in delight; that was what he needed, it seemed, and in what felt like moments, the meat was gone. He tore through the rest of his food, looking for more.

Raw beef slid down his throat next, followed by grilled chicken and smoked fish. Sniffing around desperately, he realized he was out of meat; only fruits and vegetables and bread remained, and his gastric-sack did unpleasant flips at their smell.

“More… alpha, I need- I need more!” He whimpered, turning to look at his lusus. Alphadad didn’t hesitate, leaping to his feet and bounding out of the mountain.

Vornik groaned again, dragging himself to the water barrels. He dunked his head in one, fears be damned, gulping down water in an attempt to stifle the hunger. He pulled his head back out, hair spraying water everywhere, and stood, clutching the edges.

He panted, staring down at his warped reflection; what was wrong with him? He’d never reacted this way to blood before- it was the only reason he could come up with for the sudden hunger. Maybe he *had* rejected the jade blood, and his body was trying to purge it.

He should see the healer, he decided. He spun about to fetch his cloak, stumbled over his own feet, and collapsed.

He groaned, stars exploding behind his eyes; he felt too weak, his temples and stomach pulsing in harmonious pain. It seemed to be moving, too, the pain rolling down each limb until it reached his fingers and toes, making them twitch. Even his horns felt electrified; he reached up to touched one, and cried out as a jolt shot through him.

He dropped his head, pressing his cheek to the cold stone. He tried to focus on breathing, shudders wracking his body as he dug his claws into the floor. There was a whine in his ears, distant and shrill like a broken radio.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there; he was going in and out of consciousness. But when he managed to lift his head again, it was in response to the sound of a body hitting the ground.

Blinking blearily, he found his lusus standing before him, a dead antler-beast on the ground at his paws, blood oozing sluggishly from a tear in its throat.

The coppery tang hit the back of Vornik’s throat, and he was moving before he was even aware of doing so. With his claws, he rend open the carcass, and was tearing out flesh.

He ate like a frenzied beast, blood coating his hands and mouth as he devoured flesh and muscle and organs. His knees became sticky and hot as the blood pooled around the rip in the belly. He was snarling, snorting, and panting, like his howl-beast siblings did when they devoured meals. He paused to lick away the blood that ran down his arm, before gouging out the liver and tearing into it.

He didn’t stop until he physically could eat no more; the carcass was in shambles, nearly half of it now in Vornik’s stomach. Finally sated, he slumped over to stare at the deer’s head, reaching up with bloody fingers to pet its ear.

“I’m sorry. Thank you for sustaining me.” He rasped, throat thick with blood; it was something he said at every kill, before he and his siblings ate. It was the closest he ever came to prayer- yet this time, all civility and grace he usually held during the meal had vanished until he was quenched.

Vornik laid for a while, eyes closed and breathing deep; sanity seemed to have come back to him, as did a warm strength that filled out his limbs and chest.

He felt… good. Content. Suddenly exhausted, he passed out right there on the ground.

It went on like that for several nights. He’d wake, eat, drink, and pass back out, to be consumed by fitful sleep and nightmares. He’d toss and turn, wake with a jolt, and devour more meat. Alphadad doted on him diligently, bringing fresh kills nearly every night. The cave was filled with carrion and bones, but Vornik didn’t have the strength to remove them.

Then all at once, he felt like he’d woken up; he was clear headed, able to breathe fully. He had the strength to get up and make his way to the pool, where he drank and cleaned the blood that caked his face and claws.

He sat back, looking up at the giant crystals that hung from the ceiling; through the cracks in the stone, he could see purple and green-tinged light; the moons were out and full. He didn’t feel sick anymore. Didn’t feel thirsty or hungry. His skin itched, but other than that, he felt fine.

Looking back down, he jumped in surprise as he caught sight of his reflection. Leaning over the surface, his eyebrows shot up; was the really him? He looked… bad. Haunted.

His eyes were empty, shadowed below by dark circles. His mouth was set in a grimace, the scar over his eye vivid. That wasn’t him, he thought; that was the shell of a troll he’d become. That wasn’t who he wanted to be.

He reached up with shaky claws and ran a finger down the mark. The smell of sea salt, blood, and a flash of fuchsia filled his mind for a moment, before he shook his head and dropped his hand. When he looked back at his reflection, he saw his eyes were glowing. He frowned; they only ever did that when he used his powers, why were they-

Agony tore through him once more, rocketing up his spine and bursting into his thinkpan like a firework. He screamed, the sound echoing through the chasm and causing birds to take flight.

He clutched his head, falling forward, into the shallows as he writhed. The ground shook, and Alphadad was at his side, barking and whining in alarm.

Vornik couldn’t breathe; his body was refusing to listen to him, pain buzzing down into his teeth. He snapped his jaws in the air, clawing at his mouth. His eyes suddenly shot open.

“Out!” He shouted, “I need out! Outside! Alpha!”

Alphadad didn’t argue. He shoved his muzzle under Vornik’s body, and the boy grabbed on, clambering over his lusus’ center head to clutch at his scruff as the monster hounded for the exit. Pressed flat against his lusus’ neck, the roof of the tunnel scraped against Vornik’s back and made him wail.

They burst out onto the mountainside, and Alphadad bound down to the forest, where he lowered himself to the ground. Vornik slid from his back and hit the dirt, pain pulsing through his very veins.

Everything was overwhelming; the forest was quiet, yet he could hear every insect chirp, every rustle of the leaves and the footfalls of deer. The smells of the woods, once pleasant, were rancid in his lungs, until he was heaving, trying to cough them back out. The moonlight stung his eyes, the wind slicing at his skin like knives.

From among the trees, he heard the near silent padding of his fellow howl-beast’s approach. A dozen of them appeared, sniffing the air as concerned grunts and growls rolled in their throats.

“What’s- happening- to me?” Vornik croaked, staring at his siblings pleadingly. They paused, turning to snuffle at one another. A knowing look seemed to dawn on all of them at the same time, and they suddenly retreated- all but one of them.

Vornik recognized her; he knew nearly every howl-beast in the mountains. This particular one was a she-wolf with red fur; Vornik had named her Russet, and had pup-sat for several of her litters when she went hunting.

Russet stepped forward, brushing her nose along his jaw comfortingly, before she stepped back, only to lunge forward and slam her head into him.

Vornik fell back with a yelp, pain skirting up his back like electricity. “Russet-?!” He gasped.

She leaped back, bowing in a play stance.

“No, Russet, I don’t-”

She barked, knocking into him again. She turned and vanished into the trees, before she came back and barked again, her tail wagging.

Run!

The word exploded in his head, a painful energy surging through him like a wave. He scrambled to his feet, looking around wildly.

Run!

He took off.

Vornik wasn’t sure if it was terror or excitement that made him move, but he was suddenly tearing through the trees, his lusus and packmate at his sides. Other howl-beasts bled from between the trees to join them in their race.

Vornik didn’t know where they were going, but he was a man consumed; run, his body told him, the pain fading to a background feeling. Run. Run!

He vaulted over a log, lost his footing, fell, and leaped back up, racing on.

They burst out of the woods and onto the plains, where a heard of mega-fauna antler-beasts were grazing. The beasts startled, bellowed, and wheeled about to flee. Vornik bellowed right back, and his vision went red.

He screeched to a stop, throwing back his head as his muscles seized.

He screamed, screamed, screamed- and his skin rent open as he was transformed.

He fell forward, his body shaking and jerking from side to side as he convulsed. He thrashed his head, snarling, his claws digging into the dirt. His lusus and howl-beast siblings watched, silently circling around him to wait.

The base of his spine burned in a white hot, needling pain. His every fang pulsed and throbbed, his eyes squeezed shut as his thinkpan scattered to the wind.

His jaw was stretching, his bones snapping and reforming, his fangs growing as he snarled at the moons. His form doubled, tripled in size, new muscles and flesh rippling into being across his limbs.

His hair turned white from the roots, as bright white fur burst into being along the rest of his body. He heaved with a great shudder, and his spine elongated into a tail with a flourish. His ears grew longer, the tips sharper, as he tossed his head. His hands and feet became broad and thick, his fingers and toes into heavy, sharp claws.

His clothes were suddenly too constricting as his chest broadened, expanded, and he tore them off with a snarl.

With a final burst of pain, he threw back his head and screamed, only for it to change into a roaring howl, before he collapsed.

Vornik lay in the moonlight, heaving for breath as he tried to figure out what just happened. Terror and pain faded away until they were barely echoes. He whimpered, peeling open his eyes and sitting up slowly to look down at himself.

He… He was a howl-beast.

Or partially one, at least. A monster, caught between troll and howl-beast. He reached up, patting his head, and was relieved to feel his horns still remained. He stood on wobbly feet and twisted about, looking at himself. He was huge! He must have been nearly seven feet tall, at least! He was covered in thick white fur that made him look even bigger, and he had a tail! He focused, and managed to make it wag a little. He looked down his arm, and saw his scar still remained, but it was mostly covered by his fur.

Dropping back down, he finally looked up at his family. Alphadad was regarding him, with only warmth and pride in all his eyes.

“Alpha?” Vornik tried to say, but it didn’t come out in his voice. His body spoke for him, his ears pressing back and head cocking to the side.

“Little Omega.” His lusus responded warmly, all six ears pricking up and middle head tossing back and forth as his tail wagged.

“I’m… a howl-beast.” Vornik’s tail thumped and he bowed his head.

“Always been a howl-beast.” His lusus leaned down and nuzzled each muzzle against Vornik’s head. “Only now you look like one.” He chuffed affectionately, nipping Vornik’s ear gently.

Vornik nuzzled his nose along one jaw, before he looked at his siblings. Each one of them had their ears pressed back, tails tucked, and were respectfully looking away from him. Vornik whined at them, assuring them it was okay.

“What do I do now?” He whimpered, his own ears falling flat and tail tucking half-way between his legs.

Alphadad pulled away to regard him. “What do you want to do?” He asked, all three heads cocking to the right at the same time.

In response, Vornik’s stomach gave a mighty rumble, and he heard amused chuffs from his siblings.

“Hunt.” Vornik bared his teeth, his muzzle wrinkling and eyes beginning to glow as energy surged through him.

Alphadad stamped his feet, tail high as he barked with excitement. “Then we hunt!” He snarled, tossing a heads.

Vornik slammed his claws against the ground as a sudden, ferocious elation- borderline bloodthirst- filled his chest. He threw back his head and let out another roaring howl that echoed through the mountains.

Above him, the sky lights burst to life, as if called by his song. Greens and blues and pinks and yellows snaked across the sky, stretching across the canvas of midnight and stars. The other howl-beasts reacted, throwing back their heads to howl, too.

“Ancestors! The ancestors join us!” Jawbreaker- a male with black fur- howled.

Vornik couldn’t sit still another moment; he thought if he did, he might explode. He shot off across the plains, reveling in his new power; he had questions, lots of them, but for the moment he let them go, all but throwing himself, willingly, into the nature he’d denied himself the past sweep.

He could feel his blood-pumper beating against his ribs like a caged animal. He felt every ripple of his muscles as they bunched and released as he thundered forward, his claws tearing into the grass.

Every sense was heightened, but it was no longer painful; he could hear his brothers, his sisters, and his father racing along behind him, but none of them seemed able to keep up with his speed. He could smell the earthy musk of his prey, somewhere ahead in the hills, so strongly that he could taste it on his tongue. His vision was sharpened, so much so that every blade of grass was distinct, even as he ran by.

With a leap full of lupine grace, his form changed again.

He nearly lost his footing in surprise, but managed to stay upright as his body morphed, painlessly and seamlessly, into a full-blown howl-beast body. He wanted to stop and check it out, but to pause meant he had to stop running. He could still feel his horns atop his head. Adrenaline was pouring through him, churning through his veins until he could barely contain it. He threw back his head and howled again, and heard the answering cry from his pack.

The mountains came alive as the other packs responded, too, reveling in the glee their brother had found once more. Vornik crested a hill and finally slowed as he spotted the prey up ahead. His flanks heaved as he fought for breath, his head was spinning with hunger and euphoria, and drool dripped from his jaw. His muscles ached from the sudden growth and use, but it was dull. Satisfying.

Finally, he thought, his tail wagging behind him as he eyed the herd.

Finally, he was himself again.

He was Vornik again.

#blood of my blood #story time #vornik gorsin #tw needles #tw animal death #tw blood #long post #very long post #sorry to just drop this but i love it very much #my boy is happy again! :')#ill update his bio soon

25 notes · View notes

lovelybarnes · 4 years

Text

vivian!- mark sloan

pairings: mark sloan x reader, alex karev x reader

warnings: hospital shooting, guns, blood, shooting, death

about: there's a shooter at seattle grace

you're basically lexie grey in this lol

“mark- can you just sign the order-” you asked, annoyance clear in your voice as you stared at mark. you were about to ask him again- one last goddamn time- when a loud bang pierced your ears, and mark was suddenly on top of you and pushing you to the floor.

your hands were over your ears and your eyes were wide, mind racing and trying to figure out what just happened, and why you were on the floor, and what the hell was that sound and why are people screaming-

a flash of something came to you, and you remembered vivian, one of your favorite nurses- she was always sweet, and she knew what you were thinking before you even thought it in the OR, and she made the best cake- raising her voice at someone, and your eyes widened when you remembered you saw her drop when you heard the awful noise.

then you heard panicked screaming, but one made you freeze.

“he shot the nurse!”

vivian.

you army crawled your way from under mark’s body to where she had stood before; a hand reached up to cover your mouth when you saw her, blood gushing from her chest as her eyes stared blankly at nothing behind you.

you pulled your hand away to feel her pulse, shaking your head numbly when you couldn’t find it. people were screaming all around you, and your voice was nonexistent as you whispered.

“no, no, no, no, vivian, no-”

you moved your fingers, frantically attempting to find a pulse, but mark’s voice interrupted yours, his arms pulling you up roughly.

“come on, i’m getting you out of here.”

he pulled you in as you continued to stare at vivan, “she’s dead-” you heard yourself say, but you weren’t sure, screams from all over deafening you.

you let mark put his arms around you and guide you, blinking quickly to try to get the image of vivian out of your mind, trying to concentrate on what was going on around you, but it seemed impossible to do so.

mark stopped in front of the elevator, pushing the button repeatedly, and you looked around, mouth parting at all the chaos going on; people screaming, running, crying.

“come on! come on!” mark begged loudly, slamming a hand onto the elevator, and you looked back to see the elevator doors opening.

your breath caught in your throat as you saw the inside; your boyfriend lying on the floor, unconscious, blood surrounding him.

a brief image of vivian flashed through your mind before you screamed, running out of mark’s arms and onto the floor next to alex. you ran your hands over his abdomen, trying to find the source and putting pressure on it once you found it.

you realized mark wasn’t inside and the elevator doors were closing. you stretched out a leg, stopping the doors and looking up at mark, realizing he was frozen, staring at the man on the floor.

“mark! get in!” you screamed, huffing as you applied more pressure to alex’s wound, blood staining your hands.

“now!” you screeched when you realized mark had ignored you, and that seemed to snap him out of it, hurrying inside and pressing buttons on the control board that closed the doors, blocking out the chaos outside.

“no exit wound…” you whispered, lip between your teeth. “i gotta flip ya, babe, sorry about this, alex.”

you took a deep breath before using all your might to lift him, groaning quietly when you realized there wasn’t an exit wound.

“shit,” you huffed, looking up at mark, who wasn’t paying attention. “mark!” you called, and he bent down in front of you, “okay, hold pressure, we’re going to carry him to the nearest room and fix him, you got that, y/n?”

you gulped, trying to take deep breaths while you nodded, continuing to push down on the wound.

the elevator dinged, and you looked up at mark, who nodded at you, placing his arms under alex and beginning to lift him up.

you held pressure for as long as you could, stopping the doors from shutting as mark passed with alex, and shutting your eyes as you heard alex yell in pain.

mark shushed him as he went inside a room, lying him on a table

“get gauze, morphine, anything!” mark yelled, and you didn’t respond, simply running out of the room and grabbing everything you though could help. you knew you weren’t this incompetent normally, you knew what you needed to treat a gunshot, but your mind was busy, flooding with images of vivian and alex and people crying.

you ran inside the room again, shutting the door. “i grabbed everything i could think of,” you said, putting everything down and looking down at alex, who was now awake and in pain.

“i am so… incredibly… pissed off right now…” alex hissed, and you looked over at him for a second before going back to organize what you found.

“alex, you’ve been shot,” you heard mark say, “is there an exit wound?”

you shook your head, quickly realizing he couldn’t see you and you turned to him. “no, there isn’t. the bullet’s still in there somewhere.”

mark groaned. “damn it, we’re gonna have to go in blind. start an IV.”

you did as you were told quickly, turning your head to alex for a second to give him a shaky smile. “you’re gonna be okay, alex. alright?”

you looked away as he started to speak.

“i’m- i’m- i’m gonna kick that guy’s ass when i see him,” he grunted, inhaling sharply after he was finished.

you laughed lightly, “i know ya will, alex.”

behind you, mark huffed. “centra-”

“done.” you said, cutting him off as you finished the central line.

“can you finish setting up?” you asked mark, and he looked at you strangely, “why?” he questioned.

“i’m gonna help him, can you just set up?”

“y/n, i’ll do it, you-”

“i’m an a doctor too, mark! and i am just as capable as you are at handling this-”

“it’s not that. he’s your boyfriend. you think i’m going to be able to calm him down? he’s not going to listen to me.”

you contemplated that for a second, agreeing with him silently as you pulled gloves on and handed him things.

“fine.”

“you’re doing great alex, really great.” mark said, “now i need to put in a chest tube. you with me?”

alex shut his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “no. no chest tube. i’m okay.”

mark didn’t argue with him, complying with his wishes.

“y/n, you get the betadine ready, and i’ll do the rest, okay?” you nodded, letting go of alex’s hand and reaching for what you needed.

you lathered the betadine on quickly, encasing alex’s hand with yours again, biting your lip as he groaned.

mark started to cut, and you looked at your boyfriend again, your eyes widening when he started to scream.

“no, no, no, alex-”

“shut him up! shut him up.” mark said, and you turned to alex, “shh, alex, you have to be quiet.”

alex didn't stop, and mark looked at you in a panic.

“y/n, if the shooter hears his screaming, he will head this way, so shut him up!”

your mind raced, thoughts from medical school jumbled in your mind.

“kissing releases endorphins..” you muttered before slamming your lips down on alex’s, his screaming quieting for a second as he kissed back.

gunshots made you shut your eyes closed, images of vivian rushing through your eyes with the tears.

alex’s groans vibrated through your mouth, but he kissed back, and then mark was done.

“i’m done, y/n, he’s losing a lot of blood.”

“B.P.’s 60 palp.”

“he’s losing a lot of blood, y/n, he needs a-”

you cut him off as you realized, “a transfusion?”

mark nodded, shaking his head. “i don't know what we’re gonna do.”

you looked down at alex, making up your mind and pulling off your gloves.

“i’ll go,” you said, “i’ll go get it.”

mark looked at you, shaking his head, “that's insane. i’ll go.”

you shook your head, “you're important, mark, you make skin for babies, and you fix faces, and you're going to fix up alex better than i can, okay? i’m going.”

mark started to open his mouth when you cut him off, looking at alex.

“hey, hey, don't die, alex, don't you dare die. it’s n/n, by the way, and you better still be alive when i get back, okay? i will be right back.”

you smiled at him softly, reaching a hand up to touch his cheek, “i will be right back.”

you squeezed his hand a last time before you let go, walking out of the room and shutting the door as quietly as you could.

you walked quietly towards the blood room, opening the door and slipping inside quickly when you got there.

you vaguely remembered alex’s blood type as you grabbed blood, shoving it as gently as you could into a random cart.

you pushed the cart out after you piled the blood up high, heading out noiselessly.

you looked around you as you walked, rounding a corner and counting the seconds you were gone.

you froze as you saw someone in front of you, but you relaxed as you realized who it was, gary clark, the sweet old man whose wife had died a few weeks before. as your eyes traced down to the gun in his hands, you panicked again, but didn’t let it through as you sighed.

“oh, mr. clark,” you breathed, hands beginning to shake.

“i didn't plan to shoot all those people,” he confessed suddenly, and you gulped, trying to ease your nerves.

“of- of course you didn't. you were… sad,” you began, “you were- you were grieving.”

“i only planned to shoot doctor shepherd,” he said, and your grip on the cart tightened, “and doctor webber,” he continued, “and you,” he finished.

you froze, your heart hammering so fast and beating so loud, you were afraid he might hear it.

his arm raised slowly, gun pointed right at you, and your breathing began to quicken.

“you unplugged the machine,” gary said, “your hands killed my alison.”

flashes of his wife flashed through your mind as he aimed at your head, and you shut your eyes, hands raising.

you fell to the floor with a gasp when you heard a shot, and you opened your eyes slowly, crouching up with a shaky breath to see gary clark lying on the floor, bullet in his shoulder.

you looked to your side, noticing a man in all black with a gun, his hands motioning for you to move.

you didn't waste a second in doing so, standing up and rolling the cart as fast as you could, all the while trying desperately to control your breathing and get rid of the dizziness threatening to tip you over.

you all but ran into the conference room when you saw it, opening the door and shoving the cart inside, closing the door with wide, scared eyes.

you turned quickly, surprised at the wooziness that made the image of mark blurred, but you shook your head, concentrating.

“uh- is he dead?” you asked, going over to alex’s side and holding his hand.

mark responded quickly, “he’s unconscious, vitals are tanking, there's nothing more i can do for him.”

you breathing sped up again as you remembered the gun pointed at your head, and you turned to alex. “don't die. alex, please don't die. this was my fault,” you realized, tears beginning to well up in your eyes. “i unplugged his wife, that's why he killed them- vivian- this is my fault, that's why he wanted to shoot me- i’m so sorry.”

you shut your eyes tightly, the realization that if he had just shot you, he would’ve probably moved on, vivian would’ve been alive.

mark looked up at you in surprise, “what? what do you mean ‘wanted to shoot me?’”

“i should’ve let him, viv- vivan, you would-” you gulped, tears running down your face. “don’t die.”

“y/n,” mark called, and you looked up at him. “you’re bleeding, what happened?” mark walked over to you slowly.

you looked down, your eyebrows scrunching in confusion, and your lips parted at the red seeping through your scrubs. you pulled your top up with a shaky hand and realized gary had shot you, “oh,” you muttered.

“better than the head, i guess,” you whispered, blinking rapidly before falling back, darkness enveloping you.

mark was shaking your shoulders, you realized, opening your eyes, but closing them again quickly, groaning at the unbelievable pain tearing through your body.

“holy shit!-” you wheezed, “i guess he did shoot me, a- adrenaline is amazing, huh?” you attempted a smile at the man in front of you.

mark’s hands ran over your abdomen, and you bit back a scream when he reached the wound. “m-mark!”

“sorry, sorry, sorry, i’m sorry n/n, i’m sorry,” mark winced, and you shook your head, eyes closed. “s’okay, it's okay,” you told him, prying your eyes open to look at mark- the beautiful man in front of you.

your eyes snapped to your side when another voice broke through, “izzie?” alex wheezed.

you sighed in relief at the fact that alex was able to speak and tried to sit up, but mark pushed you back down

“y/n!”

“i’m fine, i’m fine…” you told him, trying to brush him off, but mark didn't let you. “no, you're not. lay. down.”

you obeyed begrudgingly, and a wave of nausea and dizziness passed through you. you gasped, more pain shooting through you the moment you did.

“okay, mark, i’m gonna pass out now, jus’- jus’ lettin’ you know…” you slurred, only catching part of what mark was saying before you passed out again.

“hey! hey! stay awake, y/n! you have to stay awake-”

“m’sorry, mark… tell ‘randa and addie thank you for me…”

“y/n!”

“please wake up, please wake up, please wake up-”

you opened your eyes to miranda at your side, and you smiled, your voice raspy. “i’m up, ‘randa.”

her head snapped up at your voice, and you noticed her red eyes start to drip, new, happy tears replacing the old ones.

“oh- oh, y/n, don't do that again- don't- i can't lose you, archer can't lose you, addie can't lose you, so don't-”

you reached for her hand, wincing at the pain from the gunshot. she cut herself off as she grabbed your hand, squeezing it gently

“i won't. i love ya auntie miranda. is she here, by the way? addie, i mean.”

“i love you, too, y/n. she's on her way.”

you nodded, eyes drifting up to see mark at the door, staring at you. you smiled at him, and he swallowed, looking at miranda for a sort of approval.

miranda looked at you for a second, and you smiled, “can you check on alex for me?”

miranda nodded, glaring at mark for a second before she left.

you giggled softly as mark walked into your room, and he looked at you curiously, “what?”

“you slept with my aunt- who's basically my mother, and i still like you. s’funny.”

you grunted, “not a good idea to laugh after you got shot.”

mark frowned at that, sitting where your aunt had sat before, “i heard what you said before. it wasn't your fault.”

you just shrugged. “‘kay.”

a moment of silence passed through the both of you, and your drug- induced state didn't like that.

“i like alex,” you said suddenly, and mark gulped, nodding. “but…”

you thought for a second, stopping. “but i don't think it'll last. he doesn't like me. not in the right way, not in the you way.”

mark froze, but let you continue. “i want to be liked in the you way. in the way alex loved- loves izzie. in the way you love me and i love you.”

you thought back the the last time you and mark talked and it wasn't bad. no one was shooting your boyfriend or you, where gary clark was just the husband of a patient.

“i want a husband.”

#greysloanmemorialhospital #greys abc #greys anatomy #grey's anatomy #mark sloan #mark sloan x reader #alex karev #alex karev x reader #alex karev x you #mark sloan x you

223 notes · View notes

japiform · 4 years

Text

Helmsman: Wake up somewhere new

Grand: You are doing more paperwork, fuckin kill you with a culling fork. More and more and more and you satisfy yourself by reading one, telling the sleeping psion the joke that is these assholes requesting aid, and write 'Fuck Off' in big spiky letters across the whole thing. That goes in the Done pile. Next paper, type a moment to research what the fuck they're even talking about, because you stopped hiring motherfuckers to know more details than you when they kept fucking dying or leaving. Getting exiled. Whatever.

Your typing hand leaves the husktop to run over the fuzz of the psion's warm fragile skull while you read some more shit, strike out some more shit, and sigh. "Motherfuck, I need a vacation," you mutter, and it's a joke because this is about as close as you GET to a damn vacation, but not a joke funny enough for you to laugh. You look up round the room, all the medicullers absent save the one you successfully disarmed (okay, that one you'll laugh at), and he's dead the fuck asleep. Everything's in white, save the floor which is a multihued stain down to the drain in the center of the room, though it is mostly subtle variations of purple. Not a lot of offcolor fucks that you consider WORTHY of gettin tended to, after all.

This helm don't know how lucky he has it.

Helmsman: Stirring, your hornbeds crackle with power as the sedatives start wearing off. The dull, fullbody pain makes you groan under your breath and squinch your eyes tight, before it fades and you can settle again.

It occurs to you that you're being touched, but you don't sense any animosity from it, which is strange and new. Along with this feeling of not-bad is the voice you recognize. The one that makes you feel. Not-bad.

Your blue eye creaks open to survey your surroundings, and you grimace at the white, zapping the troll next to you to get their attention.

"Hey. Can'ya turn off th'lights? Ssbright." Grumble.

Grand: The crackling of his horns takes a moment to register, the groan less so. You finish writing Fuck Off on this next illustrious waste of tree pulp, running your off hand down his nug til you get to the base of it before you withdraw--Just in time to get zapped. You let out a curse that's actually just a verse of your most holy of texts (elixirs 5:18; pour one out for you, your blood is paint yet to be spilled), and bare your teeth at him, eyes flashing with menace.

Oh. He's just waking up.

“Poor motherfucker," you croon, and it's a mocking tone that you speak in. But what the fuck ever, you can stand for a break. You turn off the lamp closest to him, shut your husktop with a finite click, and captchalogue the stack of important papers that you've filled out. ... Oh, and the not done ones too, if for no other reason than state secrets or whatever the fuck.

Helmsman: "Thenks." Your voice is rough from both overuse and underuse, and you clear your throat a few times before swallowing a little bit of blood. Gross.

Blinking your eyes open, you take a better look at the room around you, and then up at the troll looming over you.

"Oh sshit." Oh shit is right, because if you aren't mistaken, that's the fucking Grand Highblood. In the flesh.

"Sso. Are you the personification of the Angel of Death, or am I hallucinating?"

Grand: "You fuckin flatter me," you say, batting your lashes a bit. "Either that, or you're hallucinatin, cuz I ain't been called angelic in a while." Your hands are to yourself, but you know the sound of a fucked up voice when you hear one. You wonder if you'll have to shove a tube in his mouth to get him to take somethin from you, or if he'll take it just to make you stop botherin him.

... But you also take the chance to look him over. Mostly just his face, which has the capacity for expression now, and is therefore finally actually interesting. "So surprised to see me? I told you I'd help."

Helmsman: You look confused, and a bit upset, like you'd had a present ripped away from you. "Then... I'm not dead." Thin eyebrows furrow and you attempt to sit up, which is hard when your arms feel invisible. After a bit of struggle, you flop back down heavily, hissing at the pain. The light in your eyes seems to pulse, like you're trying to focus. "The- the data..?"

Grand: "Not a fuckin clue." This is definitely about to get spicy, and you don't grin. But you want to. You want to rub your 'i told you so' in his moronic fucking face. "You ain't dead. You're limbless and on my ship, after you tried to fire up a single fuckin cannon and immediately fainted. Whether you managed ta finish transmittin your entire self into the space between helms, i ain't got an iota of an idea. But I told you that you didn't have to shoot me, that i would wait for you to get your business done. So I don't know that I feel like that's my problem."

Helmsman: "Limbless." Yeah, that explains why your arms feel invisible. You failed. After everything you did.

After all that pain and hard work just for it to fail. You're silent as you process this, before your eyes grow damp. You can't even wipe the frustrated tears away, so you curl away from the clown so you can cry with a little bit of fucking dignity.

God your life goddamn SUCKS. The sobs hurt as they rip out of you but you can't make them stop, thin frame heaving. He should have let you die. You shouldn't have told him anything. God you're so stupid!

Grand: ... Oh.

You expected this motherfucker to fight. To flare up bright, like you saw he could do in the ship, like you know he could do as a ship. The fight wouldn't do much good, him limbless and you your powerful, merciless self, but you woulda had fun trying to take him out without takin him all the way out.

You look over him, crying, weeping and just barely able to turn away from you, and you feel

something.

Fuck knows what.

"For fucks sake, we doin this shit?" you snap, and you think it should have come out a little harsher, a little louder. Or maybe you should be laughing, perhaps. No motherfucker would be surprised to hear you laugh.

"Like I ain't the most powerful motherfucker this side of the damned universe. Where the shit are your files or what the fuck ever."

Helmsman: Shaking your head, you laugh through the tears, a mirthless, harsh noise. "Where the fuck do you think they are?"

Crying is such a relief, though. Like you finally can expell all the horrid feelings you've been holding close to your chest for so long. You've been ripped from your ship, sanitized, bundled up all careful in a medical cot, what more do you need to hide? What would it possibly change?

"I was always doomed. What difference does it make now."

Grand: You grit your teeth at that unrighteous sound, but what the fuck is it you can do? Where the fuck indeed. You keep your helms and your files separate, at the rate you burn through them, and why the fuck wouldn't you? But you've never thought about the logistics of how the fuck one would store themselves, never thought about how it wouldn't be in ship storage unless it was some place the fish bitch could see.

For a second, from the way you have trouble breathing, and from the way your pump aches, you think you're finally kicking it. It's only a breath, only a beat, but still enough to get your fronds all wound the fuck up in the soft silk of the hospital bed. Still enough to have you reeling.

"Well. Guess you're gonna have to stay lively long enough ta write your fuckin memoirs, ain't ya?" you say, and it's quiet, and not all that funny, and you don't know what the hell is going on. "So, let's see to that."

Helmsman: You half feel vindicated from seeing that conflicted look on GHB's features, but the other half of you feels really bad. The guy went out of his way to save your useless life, used his resources, time, and energy to pluck you specifically from death's door and sit next to you.

Memoirs he says, like that isn't a ridiculous statement to make this late in the game. How are you gonna write them without arms, you wonder. It makes you laugh again, and this time it feels better to laugh. Once the giggles have settled down, you look at the troll next to you, really look at him, yellow streaks run down your cheeks and staining the white pillow under you.

"You've been here the whole time, right?"

Grand: There you all in all your glory, thousands of sweeps old and not quite so young looking as you were when you first caught this motherfucker, wearing what amounts to your casual clothes and the tie you wear when you're feeling like you should get yourself in the head for business. Your hair has grey, your paint has a fine line or two in it, but you're still an unholy terror when you want to be, which is still fucking most of the time.

Your hands unfist in the covers, and you roll your eyes at him, recline in the chair you stole from your office because fuck if you're gonna use a visitor's chair, you're the fucking king. "Nah, motherfucker, I got shit to do other than tend to your pathetic ass." Your ankles cross and you look up at the ceiling, casual as you fucking please. "But I been here often enough. When I ain't preachin or doin other holy shit. Medicullers just ain't made like they used to be, and some don't know how to ask first instead of puttin their knives where they ain't wanted. Can't have them makin that mistake when I went through all the trouble to nab your scrawny ass, can I?"

Helmsman: "Well. Thanks, I guess. You've got your reasons I don't doubt, but." You avert your eyes, not that he can tell. "It was better than being alone."

Okay you need to sit up Now. Cracking your neck, you test your reach with your psionics, the energy roving over the whole room as you manually adjust the power. Ugh, that feels weird. It takes a negligible amount of thought to arrange yourself a bit more upright against the pillow, and it does wonders making you feel less like you're at the mercy of circumstance.

"... You haven't changed a bit, huh you shitty old man."

Grand: You roll that thought around your head, feel it shifting shit behind your eyes. It was better than being alone, he said. Ain't that a terrible weakness of his, that dislike of being alone? Feels like the fucking point of a wriggler's afternoon special, soft and sweet and weak as it is. Pathetic, is what it is.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, watch him sit himself up with power that you still don't trust not to be pressed into the flesh of you, though the thrill keeps you from locking it away tight with something or another, and you are a little impressed that he even knows how to use those when he's spent so long being sucked dry of em.

"Course I've changed. I think I've gotten taller. Definitely gotten older. I think I've killed a few more thousands of fuckers, though I might be off by a decimal point or some shit. You gotta be more specific, motherfucker, if you want to get a particular answer."

Helmsman; Scoff. "It was rhetorical, fuckhead." The residual psionics definitely is filling the air with static, and now that you've tapped into them it's increasingly hard to tamp down on them. Guess you're going to be fizzing like a carbonated beverage for the next little while.

"I do have some questions for you though."

Grand: You bark out a laugh, as your head fills with static and your hair puffs up faintly like an angry cat. You're going to have to rub him down with fuckin drier sheets or some shit, just to get some peace and not have your papers stickin to you.

"What the fuck else have we got to do, bitch? Go on, ask."

Helmsman: You chew on your lower lip as you think of the right way to word it. "Does Survivor know I'm alive?"

Grand: "Yep," you pop the word sharp, rocking back on your heels and two legs of the chair. More throne than chair, really.

Helmsman: Would be a shame if he were to fall backwards and hurt himself... Someone's gotta teach this guy not to lean on the back feet of chairs. He could hurt himself. What a shame.

The front two legs slam back onto the floor, and you sneer at him. "The last thing I need is for you to suffer some kind of concussion right now."

Grand: You yelp, an unseemly noise, as your chair is forced groundways, making you a six legged shape once more. "My skull is thicker than that, for messiahs motherfuckin sake, ask your damn questions instead of fussin over my old ass, you motherfuckin limbless horror."

Helmsman: “It'd just be inconvenient, is what I'm saying. Like I'd bother fussing over you, nightmare fuel."

This fucking guy. You shut your eyes, exhaustion hitting you like a truck all of a sudden. "Will I see her anytime soon or am I just gonna be stuck in this glass bottle forever so you can keep prodding me with sticks?"

Grand: Nightmare fuel. You like that, and it makes you chuckle different, a low bass rumble in your chest.

"You'll see her when she comes up with a plan that her and blue think will keep me from wreckin their shit, and as soon as you can get jostled without openin up every scab you got from nose to nook, which believe me, are plentiful.. And maybe a little longer than that, dependin on your amusement ta annoyance ratios. Don't go tryinna manipulate em to your wantin, cuz I ain't gonna tell you which keeps you here longer."

Helmsman: "I'm going to be honest with you: I'm a doer not a schemer. I'd pinky promise you, but, well..."

Shrug.

"As long as I get to see her again." You forgot what it was like to yearn for someone, but right now it's all you can take to be away from Bastet. You were being honest earlier when you admitted you don't know how to be alone anymore.

Grand: You hear that, and you tip back in your chair again, arms crossed behind your head, and you smile. Fuck yes. "Ain't that sweet," you chirr, and it could be nice if it was anyone other than you. But you are, as he said, nightmare fuel, and you ain't particularly inclined to be anything else.

"Give it a week or two. A perigee, tops. You'll get where you wanna be. Think you can wait that long, motherfucker?"

Helmsman: "Only been waiting the majority of my life." Sinking back into the thin blanket. "If you're going to stick around, do it goddamn quietly, for fucks' sake."

You're starting to feel lightheaded, and want to sleep now.

Grand: A snort. "And here I thought you liked my company. You'll tolerate it or you won't, and it ain't my problem either way."

Still, when he nestles himself down, you draw the blanket up past his damaged shoulders so he don't catch chill and kill himself on something nothin much at all. And you go ahead and take off your business garb (the polkadot tie you wear when you're deep in the shit creek that is your backed up paperwork), twirling it around your finger before you captchalogue it. "Just fuckin sleep, you're gonna need it."

Helmsman: “Don't need your permission." You bite back, already fading off into dreamland. Geez, being a sassy sourpuss takes a lot of energy.

Grand: He falls asleep to the low rumble of your laugh at his expense, amusement in the face of his fucking spite. Once he's out, you realize you forgot to make him drink, and decide you'll get on with it when he's a little more conscious. No point forcing him if he's not around to make you work for it, is there?

You don't turn on the light for a good hour or so. You just sit back in your throne, the back legs of it worn away from just such play, and you think. And you speak a few more times, half thoughts that you don't bother to explain cuz he ain't around to ask. But mostly, you just think.

6 notes · View notes

spookyspaghettisundae · 4 years

Text

The Fabric Rustled

Jessica paused in the middle of brushing her teeth. The sound of rustling fabric from her bedroom had drawn her attention.

Mainly because she lived alone.

A foam of toothpaste dripped from the corner of her lip where she left the brush sticking out of her mouth, drooping to the side, with her attention absorbed in seeking the source of that sound. She opened the bathroom cabinet behind the mirror, using the angle to see behind herself and let her view sweep the bedroom.

Her eyes almost glossed over at the sight of a figure on her bed. The moment her gaze could return to it and allow her brain to catch up on what she had glimpsed, the light by her bedside went out. Jess spat into the sink, letting the brush clatter against the curved ceramic surface and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

She had spun around in a flash, heart pounding and the rushing of blood in her ears drowning out any possible noise that she strained to listen out for.

Even in the darkness of her bedroom, bathed in the dim light that spilled through the connecting door, she could perceive the figure of something—or rather, of someone—on her bed.

The silhouette suggested the form of a person languidly lying there. Or a creature lying in wait.

“Get the fuck out. I have a gun and I’m not afraid to use it,” Jess lied, muffled, immediately cupping a hand underneath her chin as more foamy paste dribbled out from her lips.

Fabric rustled again, as the figure on the bed moved. Almost like a cat nesting in a pile of blankets. Though her eyes had yet to fully adjust and the bright light from the tube above her bathroom mirror slowed the process, Jess could have sworn she saw the figure’s head tilt.

“What do you want?” she asked.

No answer.

But the figure moved, evidenced by more rustling of fabric. It rose, like someone getting up straight while sitting on their knees.

Jess pawed behind herself and when her fingers found purchase on cold metal, she gripped her nail file.

Although her heartbeat raced with furious speed and every fiber of her body rebelled against what she was about to do, she took a first step towards the bathroom door.

There was only one way out, and that way was through.

She could almost discern the figure’s shape. It looked like a person to Jess, but something about it felt off. Like the arms were too long. Or the hands that propped it up against the mattress. Or both. It tilted its head again.

She took another step, gripping that nail file so tightly that it turned her knuckles white.

The bathroom door slammed shut in front of her, causing Jess to stagger backwards and a gasp to escape her. The moment her back hit the edge of the sink, the bathroom light went out without explanation and she gasped again.

She stumbled forth and reached out, looking for the light switch, and growing confused when it felt all wrong. Instead of the wall, she felt a metal cylinder or something. A cable. Then a light switch, but one attached to a small lamp.

The little one on her nightstand beside the bed.

The plastic parts clicked when she squeezed them, and the light went on.

Jess was in bed, tangled in the sheets, a sheen of sweat coating her skin. Her heart still pounded, and she battled her disorientation, her inability to grasp what had just happened. Because she had somehow gone from standing in her bathroom after seeing a nightly assailant in her bed, to lying in that same bed.

If she had just awoken from a nightmare, well, it felt way too real.

Her heartbeat refused to stop in its ceaseless racing. She could feel the rhythmic and panicked thump of it against her skin, pulsing almost painfully with every thrum in her belly.

Something cold rested in her hand.

The nail file, from the bathroom. Its metal was exactly as cool as it would have been, had she just picked it up, unlike an object that rested in her palm for half a night and should have been warm to the touch.

The darkness in her room, looming at the edges of the bedside lamp’s dim illumination, felt more oppressive than ever. As her eyes scanned her environment, the place looked both familiar and alien at the same time, like something subtle had changed and her brain struggled pinpoint what exactly that was. Like every little detail was how it should be, but something was hiding there.

Lurking.

The air caressed her skin with an uncomfortable chill. Worse yet: she did not feel alone.

Fabric rustled. And then again.

The sounds originated from the space underneath her bed. That void which our imaginations filled with all sorts of intangible horrors.

Just like when she had approached the bathroom door in her nightmare—or was it really a nightmare? Just like then, her skin and muscles and bones refused to budge, but she pushed them beyond that hesitation, forced herself over the edge. Pushed, driven by a cold and steel will to survive, she crept over the edge of the bed, gripping the side in one hand and the nail file in the other, poised to jab.

Her hair rained down against the hardwood floor as she gazed upon the upside-down world beneath her bed.

But there was nothing. Nothing but a thin sheet of dust.

Nothing but the product of an overactive imagination, no fabric that could rustle, not a single thing that could not be explained away with something rational, like night terrors. Still, her heart pounded. Her body and mind had yet to calm.

Holding her breath all the while only drove up her pulse, doing nothing to conceal her presence should someone—or some thing—be lurking in her room.

A pained croaking sound emerged from her throat the moment she sat back up, the only result of her own body stifling a scream, owed to panic paralyzing her entirely.

The shape of a hand had taken form underneath the covers, like someone gripping the side of her bed, like someone had reached up from underneath the bed and shoved their hand under the covers, creeping up closer to her. A long and slender hand with grotesquely long fingers.

She wanted to stab with the file. To plunge it right in and stop it, but the hand stopped moving once she focused on it and stared, stricken with horror. Thoughts had long left the building and Jess mindlessly wondered if fighting would only make things worse.

“G-go away,” she told the hand in her trembling voice.

No response.

“Go away, you piece of shit!”

A growl. Something low, baritone, rolling and thunderous, ripped through the silence that should have dwelt below, now inhabited by something.

The hand retreated, those uncomfortably long fingers slithering back and letting the sheets shrink back down to blanket the hollow left behind in the wake of the hand’s absence. The fabric rustled all the while until the hand had vanished, never entering the field of vision captured by Jess’ unblinking, burning eyes.

“Yeah. Fuck you!” Jess shouted, surprising herself by the amount of vitriol she spewed.

Another growl, fueling more dread to tingle throughout her body, to remind her how trapped she felt on this lonesome island of her bed, bordering on helplessness, knowing that this thing could not get her as long as she was able to look at it, able to banish it with her gaze.

“What are you—some kinda, uh, s-some kinda monster under my bed? What the fuck? Get the fuck outta here!”

No answer this time.

The absence of another growl almost unsettled her more.

Instead, a strange sound hailed from underneath her bed. A whimper, which reminded her more of a dog’s pathetic whining.

Jess curled up into a fetal position, still tightly gripping the nail file. Her eyes burned with dryness, but her mind was nowhere near wondering when she had last blinked. Her eyes only darted to and fro, desperate to keep watch over every corner and nook and cranny, desperately scanning the little light and deeper darkness that enveloped her bedroom.

She was afraid of getting up, because it could get her whenever she was not looking—could grab her by the ankles if she touched down on the floor without looking underneath the bed, like the hand that had crept up behind her when she had taken a peek.

But the monster could not do anything if she observed. It could not survive her field of vision. That, she somehow knew.

That was the balance of things. It had to be. It was her only hope.

“You’re not supposed to be on my bed, you know,” Jess said, probing for a reply. What words had first surfaced between heavy breaths, the volume in her voice now rose as she whined, almost amounting to anger as she said, “That’s against the rules, asshole!”

Another whimper.

“How the fuck are you supposed to be a monster under my bed if you’re on it? How, fuck—how fucking stupid is that?”

No answer.

Thoughts formed in Jess’ mind, swirling around until they took tangible shape, forming a whirlwind. A nail-file-shaped sliver of anger pierced her fear and infected it with spite.

“So help me God, I will fucking install cameras everywhere just to blot you out! How would you like that, huh?”

Another growl, but it petered out into a whine.

“Yeah, and I will fucking bill you. How fucking long have you been creeping on me? Have you been following me from home to home since I was a kid? You—you owe me rent, motherfucker! You think I’m made of money?”

The fury swelled in her heart and spread, exploding out with every subsequent sentence. Such genuine rage. If the thing were to attack now, she would stab it without even flinching.

It must have been audible in her voice, for another whine from underneath the bed ended up punctuating her angry complaints.

“I am going to turn off the lights now! And I will go to sleep because I need to be up for work early tomorrow! And I will get those cameras installed, and I will bill you for them, too, shithead!”

Her heart pounded, and part of her did not believe herself what she was uttering. The sheer ridiculousness of it all. But the sounds, the gestures, everything told her that the thing down there understood.

She had intimidated it somehow.

“I get paid way too little for all the work I do,” Jess grumpily said as she switched off the light.

The monster emitted another snarling growl, but it stayed put, remaining motionless under the bed.

Of course, she could not fall asleep. With the little moonlight piercing the crack in between her curtains, her eyes eventually adjusted, allowing her to absorb the vision of her darkened bedroom. Every corner, every piece of furniture, every little bit. She took it all in, expecting to see something pop out from somewhere, or for something to creep up on her and spot it just a second too late.

Her eyes burned so badly, contrasted by the cool air sweeping over her skin like a chilly breeze.

But nothing showed up.

The sharp beep of her alarm ripped her from her sleep. Jess had no idea when she had fallen into a deep slumber, but she felt tired. She remembered no dream because what must have been a bizarre dream felt all too real.

Her mind reeled, trying to piece together if she had been hallucinating. But she remembered every single thing so vividly, remembered every little sensation.

Instinctively, she swung over the edge of her bed and beheld the space below, seeing it upside-down once more.

Nothing there.

She swung back up. No hand crept up underneath her covers, either.

She felt alone in her bedroom. First rays of sunlight had yet to pour in through the crack in between the curtains, because her alarm went off before dawn. As usual.

Jess groaned and got out of bed. Got ready for work. Brushed her teeth in the bathroom, admitted to herself that it was all just a dream—what monster under the bed would listen to reason, anyway? And she fell back into her daily rut, like she always did.

When she returned to her bedroom, someone had made the bed.

A lump formed in Jess’ throat and her heart skipped a beat, plummeting straight down into her belly region.

“What did I say about staying under the bed?” she blurted out, the anger quickly welling back up. She admonished it like a naughty child, “I will get cameras if you don’t do what I say!”

No response.

In a burst of motion, she flung herself across the room and knelt beside her bed to look underneath it. The dust there had been disturbed. Streaks in it told a story of a haggard figure having hidden itself below, scuttling about.

“If you—if you, uh, if you clean that? If you do some cleaning around here, I will think about, maybe, uh, not charging you rent. Okay?”

No answer.

Jess rose to her feet, finding nothing on her bed either.

She backed away and headed towards the bedroom door. Her heart, pulse, and breathing followed a much calmer, resolute rhythm than the night before. Unsure what to make of all of this, she found that fear had made way for bewilderment.

Looking around, she opened the door and stepped outside.

Just before the door clicked shut behind her, she heard fabric rustling.

Jess shook her head and went to work. Like she did every day.

—Submitted by Wratts

5 notes · View notes

avengerscompound · 5 years

Text

Like Rabbits - Chapter 10

Like Rabbits: A Black Widow/WinterHawk Fanfic

Masterlist // PREVIOUS

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Rating: E Square: @star-spangled-bingo - a collection of toys

Word Count: 1790

Warnings: Pregnancy stuff, smut (M|M, oral and anal sex)

Synopsis: While you and Natasha are contemplating starting a family together, Bucky and Clint are doing the exact same thing. So two couples go take the same path to parenthood together.

A/N: This is a Bucky/Clint chapter.

Chapter 10

It was about six weeks in total to take possession of the house. In that time there had been a doctor’s appointment, but neither Bucky or Clint attended it. It had been decided that the big deal ones they’d go to and if Natasha couldn’t for some reason, one of the boys would take her place, but doctor’s appointments were kind of personal. Especially ones that involved pelvic exams. So it would be better if they were mostly left to you and Natasha. Clint worried a little that it might make them a little less part of it, but he did understand. Besides, they were going to be part of the Lamaze classes and at the big appointments and the birth. Not everyone in his position got that much.

You had also started to show. Not a lot, but it wasn’t something you could hide anymore. It was very tempting to keep wanting to touch you to see if there was any movement, despite the fact you kept telling them it was too soon. Certainly anytime you were all around each other, Natasha couldn’t keep her hands off your stomach.

Clint and Bucky were focused on getting the house ready. The plan was to get the kitchen and master bedrooms done first and then the four of you would move in properly. There was a lot of work. Some of it needed to be done by professionals. The rest he and Bucky were going to try and do. They’d already pulled out the cabinets and started the framework for the wall that would run down the middle of the room. Today the plumbers were coming in and putting in the new sinks and dishwashers, so Clint and Bucky were going to start painting the bedrooms. Steve had already started painting a mural for the babies. He had accepted the request happily and Clint was surprised by how serene he always looked as he walked in on him.

Clint was meeting Bucky out there today. He had to stop by Home Depot for a few things and just like every time he was sent shopping by himself he stopped at Target. Partially just to get some snacks but partially because he really loved looking at the baby things. He’d been bringing toys and clothes and other random little things home since the positive pregnancy test.

He pulled the pick-up into the drive (another new purchase, thankfully he’d built up a large savings account thanks to the fact his hazard pay was always huge and up until now the most he spent on anything was his archery equipment which was all tax-deductible) behind Bucky’s Audi and grabbed the bags of toys and the case of beer before heading in.

He found Bucky in the nursery with Steve. The mural was really coming together. It was a space scene and Steve had laid out what would eventually seem like the earth viewed from the pilot’s chair in a spacecraft. He was currently painting the details of Earth now and it was impressive in the detail.

“Wow. It’s looking good.” Clint said coming into the room and looking on as Steve continued to paint.

“Thanks. I hope it’s not too scary for the babies.” Steve said, wiping his brow and smearing a large blue line over his forehead.

Bucky started laughing and grabbed a cloth, and wiped his best friend’s face clean like he was cleaning up a toddler. “What have you got there?” He asked.

“Beer,” Clint said, putting the case down on the floor. “Should still be cold if you want one.”

Bucky and Steve both helped themselves to a bottle as Bucky quirked his eyebrow at Clint. “You know that’s not what I was talking about.”

“I got some more toys for the babies,” Clint said sheepishly as he ran his hand through his hair.

Bucky chuckled and shook his head. “How many toys do you think they need?”

“I can’t help it. It’s all so cute. I mean look at this.” He said pulling a mobile out of the bag that was made up of little plush toys of all the planets in the solar system. “It goes with the mural. And … I got them a little Cap and a little Tony so their uncles can be with them all the time too.”

Steve gave a bemused laugh. “That’s sweet.”

“You better put them in the closet to keep them safe,” Bucky said. “You should build some shelves for all their stuff.”

“Yeah. That’s a good idea,” Clint said looking around the room. “It’s gonna be nice.”

“You wanna go start on our room?” Bucky asked.

“Yeah, you right being left alone, Steve?” Clint asked.

Steve took a drink and nodded. “Work better without the audience anyway,” he said.

“Alright. We’ll leave you to it,” Bucky said and he and Clint headed down the hall to their room.

“I was looking around the carriage house. There’s a bunch of unused timber. It’s old and kinda weathered. I thought we could make a… what do you call it… you know, when one wall is different to the others?” Bucky said as Clint wandered a little aimlessly around the room.

He turned and looked at the wall. “Yeah, that could work. We should strip back this carpet first.”

Bucky moved up behind him and wrapped his arms around Clint’s waist and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck. The tickle of Bucky’s beard on his skin made Clint shiver in anticipation. “You know what we really need to do?” Clint said playfully.

“What’s that?” Bucky asked.

Clint turned in his arms and tugged on the waistband of Bucky’s pants. “We still need to Christen the bedroom.”

Bucky chuckled and pulled Clint flush against him. “You think you can keep quiet?”

“I can if I have my mouth full.” He teased and sunk down to his knees in front of Bucky.

Bucky bit his bottom lip and looked around the room. Clint loved that slightly panicked look in his eye. “Door, Clint.” He whispered as Clint moved to unfasten his jeans.

Clint sat back on his knees, letting Bucky go and shut the door. When he returned and tangled his hand in Clint’s hair. The light tug he gave made Clint’s scalp prickle. He leaned forward and nuzzled and Bucky’s crotch. Bucky unfastened his jeans and pushed them down. He was already semi-hard and Clint’s mouth watered and he nosed at it and ran his tongue up the side.

Bucky’s cock twitched and jumped as the blood rushed to it. As it hardened fully, Clint pushed back Bucky’s foreskin and lapped his tongue over the head. Bucky tugged on Clint’s hair and Clint opened his mouth wide, poking his tongue out and looking up at his lover’s face.

Bucky thrust into Clint’s mouth. Clint moaned, curling his tongue as Bucky tested his limits. Bucky knew exactly how Clint liked it and soon he was gagging on Bucky’s cock as his own strained against his jeans. Precum leaked down Clint’s throat and a patch of his own began to stain his jeans.

Bucky remained silent, as he clenched his jaw and fucked Clint’s throat. Clint couldn’t take his eyes off him. The way his eyes were set and his jaw twitch as he tried to keep it together made Clint moan into Bucky’s cock.

Bucky pulled back suddenly, nearly making Clint stumbled forward. “You got lube?” He asked tilting Clint’s head up to look at him.

Clint smirked and fished in his pocket for the tube he pretty much had with him all the time. Just in case.

“I don’t know why I questioned that,” Bucky said, helping Clint to his feet. He spun him and pushed him towards the window. Clint frantically unfastened his belt and jeans as Bucky rutted against his ass and kissed his neck.

He shoved them down to his knees and braced his hands on the window as Bucky began to massage lube into Clint’s asshole. His skin prickled and he moaned softly as he gazed out the window over the farm.

Bucky’s finger slipped inside him. Clint clenched his jaw, trying to stay quiet as Bucky pushed deep inside him and curled his finger, stroking it over Clint’s prostate. He added a second finger and stretched them. The burn of Clint’s ring muscle giving under the pressure made Clint groan and press his face on the cool glass.

Bucky pulled his finger free and slicked his cock, before lining it up to Clint’s ass and slowly sinking in. Clint groaned, digging his finger into the window frame. “That’s it,” Bucky whispered, kissing the side of Clint’s neck. “Nice and quiet.”

He began to thrust deep into Clint’s ass, sending wave after wave of pleasure running up the archer’s spine. Each thrust of Bucky’s hips pushed him into the window and Clint had to brace himself to stop from going through it.

A pit formed in this gut and pressed down at him. His cock ached for relief and throbbed, leaking down the shaft.

“Bucky… Buck… Buck…” Clint babbled as his hands opened and closed on the window frame.

“Mmm… what is it?” Bucky said at a half growl.

“‘M close. Gonna come.” He groaned, as his cock jumped.

“Just hold it, Clint,” Bucky said, gripping Clint’s hip as he picked up his pace.

Clint groaned loudly and bit into his fist as Bucky picked up his pace. He felt like a hot ball of lead had been dropping inside of him and he was about to burst into flame. His cock throbbed and began to drip and it was all he could do to stop from painting the window in hot come.

With a sudden snap of his hips into Clint, shoving his cock deep inside the archer, Bucky came. Clint moaned into his fist as he felt the pulse of Bucky’s cock inside him as it released. “Hold it,” Bucky whispered, nipping at the shell of Clint’s ear.

Bucky slipped free and turned Clint to face him, before dropping to his knees and taking Clint’s cock into his mouth. Clint groaned and leaned against the window frame relaxing as Bucky sucked hard on his throbbing member.

With a low groan, he came down Bucky’s throat. Bucky swallowed it all and got to his feet, pulling Clint back against him. “It’s now home now.” Clint joked, nuzzling at Bucky’s neck.

“Yep. Well and truly broken in,” Bucky chuckled. “So let’s make it exactly how we want it.”

Clint laughed and kissed Bucky’s cheek as he started to redress. “That was the nicest way anyone has ever told me to get back to work.”

// NEXT

156 notes · View notes

methylphenidating · 4 years

Text

I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Chapter 9/?

Carmilla fanfriction | also on AO3

Pairing: Hollstein

Wordcount: 2.801

Rating: M

Warning: physical violence

Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

A/N: Chapter 8 revised for continuity, additional chapters will be posted soon

Kirsch gently laid Laura down on the nursery bed, while LaF searched the room for towels.

“Uhm, is it like normal that her face is the color of white frosting?” Kirsch asked with a concerned voice.

LaF just grabbed everything they thought could help stop the bleeding.

“We need to put her on her side. Grab her shoulder and move her slowly. ”

Even though Perry had shown them a million times how to bandage a bleeding wound, Laf sure wished they had paid more attention to the emergency response officer classes.

Ok LaF, come on. This isn’t rocket science. You got this, they thought.

They slowly lifted the shirt, exposing Laura’s back and cleaned all the blood off with towels, before bandaging the large cuts the dean had left with the whip.

During this whole procedure, Laura didn’t make one move.

“Ok, she’s lost a lot of blood and her pulse is weak. Kirsch, hand me over those needles and the small tubes that are laying there. And grab a blood bag from the fridge. A positive.”

Kirsch hurried to the counter and grabbed whatever he thought that LaF would deem as needles and small tubes.

After handing it to them, he started panicking.

“Dude-bro, is she like going to be alright? She’s not looking like her hottie self and hasn’t moved since we brought her in.” Kirsch said with a trembling voice.

“She will be fine, we just need to keep an eye on her the coming few hours. Boy, am I glad Perry forced me to take these training sessions.”

LaF swiftly inserted the needle and tangled the tubes and bag at the side of the bed.

“Come on, Laura. Stay with me.” LaF whispered desperately while holding Laura’s hand.

There was no movement coming from the tiny brunette.

Suddenly, the door to the nursery barged wide open. Perry was standing in the doorway, holding the Sumerian book under her arm.

“LaFontaine, I know what we have to do.”

Will tried to bury his large canine teeth in Carmilla’s neck, but Carmilla scratched his face with her claws and threw him off of her. Will growled from the pain, but recovered fast, leaping towards her once again.

Will might be bigger and stronger than me, but he’s slow. I need to stay sharp.

Carmilla jumped out of the way at the very last minute, leaving Will surprised.

They danced around each other for a while, with Carmilla jumping away from his attacks every time, taking advantage of her speed over his bulkiness. Will started to get annoyed and his movements started to become erratic.

“What’s wrong, kitty? Not in the mood to spar with your brother like old times?”

His voice was unrecognizable from the Will she used to know. But it was still him in there.

He lashed out at her with his giant claws, but she swiftly avoided him, scratching his face in the process, harder this time. She heard him scream in pain and saw she had hit his eye, three massive red lines going over his now closed eyelid. He backed away from her, his face grimacing from the pain of losing his eye.

Carmilla felt like she had the upper hand. She could hear his breathing getting heavier, meaning she was wearing him down.

“Oh please, like there was anything to spar. You haven’t learned anything, have you, little brother?” Carmilla said mockingly.

Will let out a beastly growl.

“Shut up!”

He circled around her first before jumping towards her. Carmilla anticipated the move, but was caught off guard when he jumped higher than she expected and she couldn’t move away in time. He jumped over her and Carmilla rolled away swiftly. But before she could get her balance back, Will buried his claws into her right hip and Carmilla growled from the pain. He laughed menacingly and dug even deeper. Carmilla could feel his nails scraping against her bones.

She bit the front leg buried into her skin and Will let out a growl, but he would not let go, curling his giant paw inside her gaping wound.

“Try worming your way out of this one, kitten!” Will spat mockingly.

Even in his disfigured form, a victorious smile was visible as he kept digging his claws deeper into her.

Carmilla growled again and tried to get free from Will’s grip. He looked even more menacing with his left eye shut and covered in her scratch marks. It didn’t seem to faze him anymore as he now had her squirming under him.

Carmilla felt her strength lessening and her vision started to blur.

He put all his weight on his front leg buried inside Carmilla and she thought she was about to pass out from the anguish.

She could hear his menacing laughter getting softer and she just wish she could lay down in Laura’s arms and-

“Hey hotdog, over here!”

Danny’s voice felt a million miles away to Carmilla and before Will realized what happened, he felt an intense pain go through his chest and howled. He let go of Carmilla and squirmed on the ground.

Danny had watched intently at the fight between the two beasts and when seeing an opening, had plunged the spear right through Will’s back without hesitation. The pointy end of the spear was sticking out of his chest as his movements were slowing down.

Carmilla shifted back to her human form and Danny ran over to her. As she did, the redhead felt a slight sting on her back.

She knew for a fact that Will didn’t touch her, so it must be a scratch from the rocks.

The blood was seeping out of the vampire’s leg, which was gaping with an open wound, bones clearly visible and she couldn’t stand on it.

“Come on, fang-face. We’ve been through tougher patches than this.”

Carmilla leaned on one leg and clung to Danny’s neck as she lifted her up.

“Well Xena... I gotta... give it to you... You do... put the warrior... in the princess...”, she said, her voice barely audible.

Carmilla tried to laugh at her own remark, but winced as soon as they tried to walk.

“Yeah, cut the smartass shit and save your strength. Let’s get you out of here.”

As Carmilla tried to stand up with Danny's help, she immediately fell back down. Danny was about to carry her out of the cave, when she saw the enormous pool of blood practically oozing out of her leg.

“Wait, you're still losing blood, why aren't you healing?”

"As it turns out Xena, vampires can't run endlessly on a drop of blood for weeks and I haven't exactly fed during all this mauling.", Carmilla said as sarcastically as possible without trying to give away the weakness in her voice.

“You idiot vampire.”, Danny mumbled.

She quickly shoved her tank top to the side of her shoulder and looked impatiently at Carmilla.

Carmilla’s smug face was gone and any retort died in her throat as she stared, hypnotized by Danny's neck.

Eventually Carmilla tore her gaze away. She could see her veins clearly, hear the blood pumping through it now.

"Wait, Lawrence... No…"

Danny pulled a knife from her belt.

"Don't flatter yourself. You take one drop too much and I'll drive this knife right through your smug face. And besides, I’m not doing this only for you."

Danny gave her a determined look.

Carmilla still hesitated.

Danny sighed and practically shoved the vampire’s face in her neck.

Carmilla growled.

“Drink!”

“Stop!”

She tried to push her away, but was too weak. As she smelled the blood going through Danny’s veins, it was like time was slowing down and her environment closed out around her. All she could concentrate on was Danny’s pulse point. After what seemed like forever, she felt her impulse control slip away.

Before Carmilla realized what she was doing, she bit, harder than she intended to, and Danny let out a grunt.

Carmilla tasted the warm red liquid entering her mouth and felt all her senses come back to life.

She put her arms around Danny’s back and gripped her tight, sucking harder at the seeping blood coming from the redheads neck. She could feel her trembling.

Carmilla’s healing started to kick in and she knew she should stop.

Just a little more...

“Alright that's enough.”

Carmilla just hissed and didn't loosen her grip on the redhead, so Danny yanked her off by her hair and pointed the knife at her neck.

“That’s enough.”, Danny repeated with a low voice, giving the vampire a death stare.

Carmilla looked back at her, some of Danny’s blood dripping down her chin. She licked it off, then gave the redhead a smirk, the knife still at her throat.

"Never imagined a Summer girl could taste like this."

Danny just gave her a menacing look and Carmilla backed off. Her leg was closed up and so were the wounds in her back.

Danny put the knife back and they both got up. Danny felt dizzy and lost her balance for a second, but Carmilla held her up.

They both looked at each other, their expressions now different.

"Thank you, Xena.”, Carmilla almost whispered.

Danny just nodded.

“...Mother...”

Carmilla looked over at Will. He had shifted back to his somewhat human form. He was barely moving anymore.

Danny must’ve pierced his vital organs.

“...Mo-ther… help… me…”

Carmilla looked around, but the Dean was nowhere to be found. O fcourse, Carmilla thought. The Dean had fled to save her own sorry ass, leaving her precious “son” to rot. Of course Will, always thinking highly of their so-called mother, expected her to stick around still.

Poor weasel.

“Wait.”

Carmilla lowered Danny to the ground and got closer to Will. She slowly ran her hand through his furry hair. It was softer than she had expected.

“There. It’s ok. It’s over.”

Will eased into Carmilla’s touch and seemed to relax. Then Carmilla tore her hand through his chest and yanked his heart out.

Danny let out a gasp.

His breathing stilled and Carmilla dropped it on the ground.

She pulled the spear out of his back and gave it back to Danny to hold. She lifted her back up and put one arm around her.

“Let's get out of here."

“Perry, thank god, you got my text.”

“How’s Laura?”

“Her heartbeat is stabilizing, but we had to leave Carmilla and Danny behind. I hope they are doing ok. What did you find in the book?”

Perry looked at LaF, hesitantly.

“Well? What’s going on?”

“Ok Su- LaFontaine, since I can’t really read Sumerian, I didn’t really find anything.”

LaF just stared at her blankly.

“But someone else guided me through the pages.”

“Quick, there’s not much time. The Dean is searching for Laura.”, Ell’s voice echoed through Perry’s head.

“Yes, yes, I’m getting there. So it turns out, Carmilla’s… ex… knows exactly what’s going on, so she explained it all to me, of course with pictures from the book. And had me look for a spell to undo the spell that the Dean has put on Laura.”

“Ok Per, that's amazing. What’s been going on?”

“It wasn’t the spell we thought it was at first. The Dean actually used two different spells and disguised it as one. One spell she used was the Bloodlust spell, putting it on Laura and Carmilla. It’s a spell between lovers and amplifying their weaknesses for each other. In this case, well it was Carmilla’s bloodlust for Laura that triggered it. The part where they both… felt the same things, in this case, pain, was just a small adjustment to it. The Dean lifted this part of the spell after she tortured Laura in front of Carmilla. As she didn’t want to hurt Laura’s body more before taking it over.”

“Oh right, so they weren’t really doing that kinky stuff to each other then? It was the bloodlust controlling Carmilla.” Kirsch said enthusiastically, proud of himself for understanding that bit.

“Yes, well in this case it was. Ofcourse, we don’t really know what they do in their own private personal space and time, nor should be judge them for it, obviously-”

“Per, back to the point, that’s one spell, what is the other one?”

LaF was starting to get impatient. They felt Laura squeeze their hand faintly as they heard Perry continue her explanation.

“So the other one is the Sumerian binding spell. The Dean used this to bind her and Laura’s soul together. This was done before Carmila killed her in the pit. She used the amulet, the possession and a drop of blood to do this. Had Carmila killed Laura during her bloodlust stage, then Laura’s soul would have been gone and the Dean’s soul would have taken over her body and her supernatural powers would return, as the Dean is now human. In any other situation, if one of them dies, the other dies too. This is how the two spells come together.”

“She’s coming. You need to go and take Laura to safety.”

“Wait, but we already undid the binding spell?”

Laf and Kirsch just stared at Perry as she was talking to herself.

“Is Carmilla’s ex talking to you?” Kirsch asked hesitantly.

“It doesn’t matter, the Dean still wants Laura dead and Carmilla is hurt.” Ell said in a panicking tone.

“No. I’m not running anymore.” Laura said with a weak voice.

She had come to and had heard everything that Perry said. She could also hear Ell speaking.

“Laura, you’re ok!” LaF said relieved, but their face turned to worry soon after.

“No wait, Laura, you’re hurt really bad, you can’t get up yet.”

Laura ignored them and got up from the nursery bed.

“I’m fine.” she said firmly.

To LaF’s surprise, she actually was. It turns out her wounds had healed when Perry did the unbinding spell.

“Where is Carm? And Danny?”

“We… had to leave them. To get you out.” LaF said. They didn’t have the courage to meet Laura’s gaze.

“We have to go back for them, right now!”

Before anyone could answer her, two figures were standing in the doorway.

“Easy cupcake. I’m right here. Glad to see you’re up and about.”

“Carm...”

Laura couldn’t stop herself from lunging herself at Carmilla, crying from relief.

“Hey Laura, it’s ok. I’m ok. Just a few scratches from Willy boy.”

“What? Will? But I thought he was-”

“Me too, cupcake. But it turns out Mother doesn’t know when to stop using puppets. Luckily it was still silly old William in there, so no real challenge.”

Carmilla gave a quick glance at Danny, who had covered her neck with a bandage.

Laura slowly turned and her eyes met Danny’s. She gave her a thankful nod and Danny smiled in return.

Laura pulled back and looked at her vampire girlfriend. Both their clothes were covered in blood, mostly in the same places.

“Look, matching wounds and scars. We really turned out to be the couple you hate.”

Carmilla just smiled and kissed Laura. She was tearing up, thinking back on how the Dean tortured her right in front of her. How she still managed to stay so strong. The vampire pulled back and cupped the brunette’s face.

“You turned out to be everything I love and so much more.” Carmilla said sweetly.

LaF scraped her throat.

“So, when you two are done reuniting, maybe we should come up with a plan now?”

“Will is gone, but the Dean got away before we could do anything.” Danny said. She was holding the spear she pulled out of Will after stabbing him, ready to take the old hag down.

The annoying stinging in her back wouldn’t stop though.

“The Dean is human. Which means without spells and magic, she can just easily be killed. She ran out of minions to command, but that doesn’t mean she’s stupid. We need to still be careful.”

Laura looked around and before she could call her name, Ell spoke to her.

“She’s back in the pit. You will find her there. But please, be careful. She managed to get a talisman to cast spells.”

“Thank you, Ell.”

Laura looked surprised at Carmilla.

“You can hear her too?”

“Yes.”

“Please, keep each other safe. You are so strong together, Carmilla. I’ve always been proud of the person you were and who you’ve become. I’ve never blamed you for anything. Maybe, we will meet again someday. Until then, goodbye my love.”

“Goodbye.” Carmilla replied softly.

“Wait, what did she say?” Laura asked her.

Carmilla looked at Laura. She brushed a strand of hair out of her face.

“Just something I needed to hear many years ago.”

Laura just smiled.

“Alright, let’s take down this old witch, once and for all.”

Carmilla led the way back into the pit, followed by Laura, Danny, Kirsch, LaF and Perry.

#carmilla #carmilla fic #hollstein #carmilla x laura #carmilla fanfic #iwfyd #carmfic #text #mine #carmilla karnstein #laura hollis #ctws

4 notes · View notes

azozzoni · 5 years

Text

My last contribution to our elippo party! This one is for all the Italians: I hope you’re okay and you’re making the most of being at home. Stay healthy! - Beware, there is smut ahead.

“How long do you think we’ll have to stay here?” Elia asked from where he lay, head hanging off the end of Filippo’s bed, barely suppressing his yawn as the felt the mattress bounce underneath him and Filippo crawled up beside him.

“Bored of my company already?”

Rolling his eyes, Elia smiled at Filippo, scooting back so his head wasn’t hanging off the end. “Just wondering how long the country is going to be in quarantine.”

He supposed he was lucky Filippo hadn’t said no to the idea of Elia joining him during the quarantine, or more lucky that Eleonora hadn’t nixed the idea. He doubted Filippo would have said no either way.

“Try to think of it as an extended vacation,” Filippo said easily, brushing Elia’s hair over his ear. It was messy, curling around his ear, falling over his forehead, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d brushed it. “I am.”

Sighing, Elia pushed himself up, rolling on top of Filippo instead. Filippo merely watched him do it, tugging at his lip ring as though curious where Elia was going with this.

“You know what most people do on vacation,” Elia said, letting his gaze fall down Filippo’s chest, the v-neck tee shirt that was entirely too low-cut for a guy, frayed at the hem as Elia slid his hand to Filippo’s waist. It had been three days already of staying home, not going out, spending most of their time watching movies or watching Filippo work on his projects for class that Elia couldn’t help him with. Elia had studying to do, but he certainly didn’t plan to do it while the whole country was in the throws of chaos.

“Drink way too much, take cliche pictures, and complain about how much their feet hurt,” Filippo answered with a knowing smirk.

“Asshole,” Elia said, swatting at Filippo’s stomach, but he didn’t complain when Filippo’s hands pushed under the hem of his shirt, smooth fingers grazing up his sides, the bite of his nails at the back of his hips.

“Why don’t you tell me what they do,” Filippo said after a minute, licking his lips slowly, pushing his hips up just enough that Elia could feel his rising interest.

Light fell through the crack in the curtains, grey and diffused, a soft glow on Filippo’s face as he gazed up at Elia, a smile at the corner of his mouth, as though he liked teasing Elia like this.

“Well, usually it’s in an expensive hotel room instead of a room with clothes all over the floor,” Elia said, glancing around obviously. Not that he minded. Filippo’s room felt lived in--organized chaos, Filo called it whenever Eleonora complained. “With candles and rose petals and fancy lube.”

Filippo grinned, sliding his hands up Elia’s back a bit more, a shiver racing up Elia’s spine at his touch. “Do you need rose petals, Eli?”

Elia shrugged vaguely. They weren’t exactly the romantic couple, not like Marti and Nico, who were probably snuggled together on their couch right now, having a Wes Anderson marathon, planning out their future. Elia was more concerned with the present and how easily Filippo was pushing his shirt up, exposing his stomach to Filippo’s gaze.

“I’d rather have the lube,” he said honestly, leaning down to tug up Filippo’s shirt, pressing his mouth to the curve of Filippo’s hip.

“Keep going,” Filippo breathed as Elia pressed open-mouthed kisses to his skin, shoving his shirt up his chest. “What else do people do on vacation?”

Pausing, Elia’s eyes grazed up Filippo’s stomach, the owl tattoo on his side, the scar from where he had his appendix out many years ago.

“They take their shirts off,” Elia said finally, licking up Filippo’s hipbone, only moving back to let Filippo pull his shirt over his head and toss it away. Elia did the same with Filippo’s, meeting Filippo’s expectant gaze.

“That’s smart of them,” Filippo said, tugging Elia up so they were face to face, lips hovering centimeters from each other.

Swallowing, Elia nodded, heat spreading down his neck, over his shoulder blades, deep into his stomach as they lingered there.

It didn’t surprise Elia anymore, how much he liked this, Filippo’s grip tight on the back of his neck, the rough scrape of Filippo’s stubble on his cheek when he closed the distance to kiss him. It didn’t surprise him when Filippo bit down on his lower lip, almost painful, a slick slide of his tongue in Elia’s mouth, hot and heavy and far from romantic.

Fingers in Filippo’s hair, Elia shoved him down, pinned to the mattress, straddling his waist and kissing him hard. People probably did this on vacation, Elia thought as Filippo’s hands moved to his shoulder blades, fingernails digging into the skin. They probably did this in dirty hotel rooms and club bathrooms, and maybe even in those pristine hotels with pure white sheets and shampoo that smelled like coconuts.

“Do they keep their pants on?” Filippo asked as Elia pressed kisses down his neck, pausing to suck a mark on his collarbone just for good measure. No one but him and Eleonora would see anyway.

“We could try it that way,” Elia replied with a cheeky smirk up at Filippo.

“I’m not fifteen anymore,” Filippo pointed out, shifting underneath Elia, pressing their hips together, and Elia’s breath caught in his throat at the heat, Filippo’s dick hard against his.

“You’re not even wearing pants,” Elia said, but he reached for Filippo’s boxers anyway.

He didn’t tug them down yet, though, pausing as Filippo watched him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Do you need help?” Filippo teased, biting down on his lip ring as Elia took a breath and shook his head.

“Just thinking about the fastest way to make you come,” he said finally, pressing a hard kiss to Filippo’s chest. He felt Filippo’s groan, the way he arched into the touch.

Filippo’s fingers buried themselves in Elia’s hair, grip achingly tight, but Elia didn’t let himself get distracted. This was how he liked it, with Filippo underneath him, pliant to his every move, spreading his legs for Elia to settle between them, slide his tongue down his abs, suck a mark into his hip bone as Filippo breathed out slowly above him.

They’d been stuck in the apartment for days already, and no matter how many times they did this, it still felt so good. It was heat and pressure and slick tongues, bruising fingers, panted breath in the dim light, Filippo kissing Elia until Elia’s lips were sore, his fingers slick inside him, making him come just from that.

Filippo was hard when Elia finally slid his boxers down his thighs, taking his time admiring the view, fingers gliding up the hard length, not taking too long before following his fingers with his tongue.

He could draw it out, Elia thought as he took Filippo in his mouth, moved slowly as Filippo sighed above him. He could take his time sucking him off, use every trick he knew until Filippo was straining to come, body hot and aching. Elia wasn’t sure he could wait that long, though, wait that long to get Filippo’s hands on him in return, Filippo’s tongue sliding in his ear in that way that always made Elia’s knees go weak.

“Eli,” Filippo breathed as Elia mouthed over the ridges on his cock, licked up the length and took the tip in his mouth.

Filippo’s hands tightened in his hair, a sharp tug that made Elia gasp. He could feel the blood rushing to his prick, hot and throbbing as he pushed Filippo’s legs open, smoothing his hands up the backs of his thighs. He knew Filippo liked it from the way he groaned, pushed his hips up.

Mouth slick, Elia moved in deeper, trying not to choke as he took Filippo in as far as he could.

“Fuck,” he heard Filippo say, and he had to pull back, sucking in a breath, taking his time licking over Filippo’s cock, hard and hot against his lips, feeling the pulse of blood.

He was close, Elia could tell. He could tell from the way Filippo’s breath came shorter, his fingers twining in Elia’s hair, yanking as his hips jerked. It was too hot, blood flooding Elia’s cock, a pulse deep in his stomach as he brought Filippo off, lavishing attention on his prick, sucking until Filippo cursed and jerked his head back.

“Fuck, Eli, wait,” Filippo said, holding Elia at arm’s length, squeezing his eyes shut.

“What?” Frowning, Elia wiped his mouth, watching Filippo, confused.

Filippo smirked after a second, though, hauling Elia up before rolling him over. “How about that fancy lube?”

Elia wasn’t sure what Filippo was talking about, tilting his head to the side as Filippo left him lying at the end of the bed, cock annoyingly hard still, and he pushed at it for a second, wishing Filippo would just come back.

He did come back, twirling a black tube that Elia had never seen before.

“What’s that?” he asked as Filippo pulled down Elia’s pants, leaving them on the floor with the rest of his clothes.

“It’s not exactly rose petals,” Filippo said, rolling on a condom as Elia watched.

Swallowing, Elia wasn’t sure he cared what it was as Filippo flipped the lid and coated his fingers. At the first push, Elia couldn’t help his curse, eyes shooting open at the warm tingling sensation deep inside his body.

“Holy fuck,” he said, gasping as he lifted his hips for Filippo’s fingers. “Where have you been hiding that?”

“Not hiding,” Filippo said, smoothing Elia’s legs back, scooting in against him, and Elia bit his lip at the first press of his cock. “Waiting.”

“For what?” Elia asked, out of breath as Filippo slid inside, so hard, so full. Everything tingled, sharp and tight, so good as they moved together.

“A worldwide pandemic,” Filippo joked, biting his lip as he pushed in, bodies rocking together, a slow fuck that made the world slow down as Elia shut his eyes, focusing on the slide of Filippo inside him, his hands on Filippo’s thighs, fingers digging into the flesh.

“Fuck,” Elia breathed again, and for a second, he forgot. He forgot that they were stuck in the house, that they shouldn’t leave, what was going on outside. The only thing that mattered was Filippo fucking him until he came so hard he couldn’t think straight.

“I bet people do this on vacation,” Filippo said, leaning in, Elia’s legs wrapped around his back, a sloppy kiss pressed to Elia’s chin, another to his cheek until Elia moved, capturing his mouth for a hot, slick kiss, moan muffled against Filippo’s lips.

“Yeah,” Elia agreed, breathless, panting as he held Filippo close, their skin sweaty and warm, a blush on Filippo’s collarbone, pink and splotchy as Elia dragged him into another kiss as a ripple of heat clenched in his stomach.

He was going to come. He wasn’t going to last, not with the pressure of Filippo’s cock inside him, the unbearably hot tingling of the lube, blood throbbing in his dick. Biting at Filippo’s jaw, Elia took a sharp breath, fingers wrapped around Filippo’s neck, tight, bruising his skin as he came, hot and sticky on Filippo’s stomach.

“Elia,” Filippo breathed, hips pushing inside him, a bit less finessed, rougher now, a desperation Elia wasn’t used to.

He kept Filippo close, peppering kisses down his neck until Filippo came, hips stiffening, face sinking into Elia’s shoulder as he breathed, shaky.

Sighing, Elia sunk into the mattress, Filippo still on top of him, hair damp with sweat, and he let his fingers rake through Filippo’s.

It wasn’t so bad, being stuck at home, especially when Filippo rolled off him with a sigh but kept his hand on Elia’s stomach, tracing absent shapes on his skin.

“Maybe when this is over, we should go somewhere,” Filippo said thoughtfully, and Elia glanced over, surprised.

“Like a vacation?”

They’d never talked about that, about going away together. This quarantine was the most time they’d spent together consecutively ever, and Elia was honestly surprised they were doing so well with it. He’d kind of expected Filippo to get annoyed with him after day two.

“Yeah,” Filippo said with an amused smile at the surprise in Elia’s voice. “Have you ever been to Paris?”

“No.” Elia shrugged.

“Great pastries, good clubs, and lots of rose petals.” Filippo grinned at him as Elia laughed, shoving his shoulder.

“Then I guess we have to go.”

“Yep,” was all Filippo said with a sigh, and Elia grinned as he lay back. Maybe they’d go to Paris once this was over, but for now, Elia was content to stay right here on their own little island.

#skam italia #elippo #skamit fic #skamit #my fic #elippo party

56 notes · View notes

medeafive · 4 years

Text

Blood and Stone - 18

Masterpost

"Just give it a few more seconds," Pepper suggests.

Natasha groans, head dropping back against the cold tiles. It's crowded in here, with the IV drip and two people. Little bathroom. Sitting upright is pretty exhausting, not to mention getting there.

"I think there's a line- yes, it's getting stronger," Pepper announces, flipping the cardboard packaging. "And line means- yeah, line means pregnant. So everything as expected."

Natasha doesn't know if she expected it not to show up because it's a vampire baby, or because she still kind of believes this is all a big misunderstanding, or- "Let's get you back to bed, then," Pepper says, putting the pregnancy test back in the box. "Bruce said if you sleep so much, you need to eat almost every waking hour."

She feels like a stuffing goose shoving more and more food down her own throat. "Could you-"

"Sure," Pepper replies, stepping in to help her up, avoiding the IV drip. "Uh, I'll help you with your pants, too, don't bother."

Natasha closes her eyes, just waiting. Her legs are weak. Everyone is always running around her, bringing her stuff, helping her, steadying her. Pampering. If she weren't so weak… "Here," Pepper says, putting an arm around her waist. "Got it?"

She nods quietly, prying her eyes open to the crass light in the bathroom, taking careful steps. Pepper helps along, opening the door for her, dragging the IV with them. They make it back to the lab where Sam and Sharon are waiting. Sam jumps up, taking over from Pepper and leading her the rest of the way to the bed. She can hardly keep herself upright, collapsing onto the sheets.

"Thanks." Pepper sighs, pushing a few bangs out of her face. "Came back positive. As expected."

"Bruce is still asleep, told him I would change the drip," Sam replies. "Nat, do you hear me?"

It's very mushy. "Mhm," she croaks out.

"Made you a protein shake," Sam says. "And brought some candy bars. If you want anything else, just say it."

"Okay," she mutters. "You don't- need to be here. All of you. All the time."

"I just wanna see Steve-" Sharon hesitates. "Maybe I should just go in now. While he's still asleep."

"Uh, he's being fed through a tube," Sam remarks. "Not the prettiest sight."

Sharon snorts. "I don't care. Uh, I'll just go in quietly. Just a minute. I'll get you immediately if he wakes up."

"Careful," Sam advises. "Uh, I'll take a Snickers if you don't mind."

Natasha chuckles, the sound scratching in her throat. "Bastard. Gimme one."

The wrapping rustles. A door closes somewhere. "There," Sam's voice says. "So… we haven't really had the chance to talk."

"About what," Natasha replies, feeling around his hand until her fingers close around the chocolate. "No idea what you're referring to."

Sam, surprisingly, doesn't call her a smartass. "Tony said something to the effect that you don't want the abortion."

She's too exhausted to fight. Hell, she can't even keep her eyes open. "...don't understand, do you."

Sam sighs. "It's not about understanding. I just don't know what my- what the right thing- if you wanted to jump off a roof, I should clearly stop you. Even if you really wanted to jump."

"Jump off a roof," she repeats weakly.

"I don't know if you noticed but you're not doing well," Sam remarks. "And you're very much at the beginning, so it's gonna get a lot worse. So continuing is kind of suici-"

A door opens and closes very quickly. "Shit, shit, shit," Sharon breathes. "I woke him up. Shit."

She can very well imagine the look of exasperation on Sam's face. "I'll take care of it. Can you look after her? Wake up Bruce if her vitals take a dive."

"Yes, sure," Sharon replies quickly. "Sorry. Really."

The door opens and closes. Sharon takes a seat somewhere. There's some sort of struggle next door. "Here," Sam's voice says. "Are you okay?"

"Yes," the strange voice croaks. "Who- who was that dame?"

"Sharon," Sam replies hesitantly. "Listen, the- the war is over, so could we just- I'm Sam."

Silence. "The war is over?"

"Yeah, you missed a lot."

"You said something- I don't remember but it was very upsetting. Uh, Steve. I'm Steve."

"Oh yeah. The year."

"But who won? The war?"

"Oh, the Allied forces. That actually ended quite well. Apart from the Soviet Union."

"Well, that's- what happened with the Soviet Union?"

"Gained control of most of Eastern Europe, including a part of Germany. Installed Communist satellite governments and all. But there was a peaceful revolution a few years ago, so the Communists are not in power anymore. The Nazis are pretty much gone, by the way. Other than- well."

Groaning. "Can I have something to drink before that? Sam?"

"Oh, sure. You're really going to need it."

"...gave her Glucagon but her blood sugar is still low…"

"... like bleeding out…"

"Kofola?"

"...might drop into a coma if we…"

"...cut it out…"

"Her pulse is super fast… weak…"

"Try honey, my mom used to…"

"No time…"

"...shock…"

"15 minutes?"

"Do you have any idea how hard it is…"

"Do it."

"Cut it out."

"All our reserves…"

"... extremely low blood pressure."

"...normal…"

"Just…"

"...the infusion…"

"Then we'll…"

"...can't be sure…"

"...gotta do something… right now…"

"...try…"

"...she's gonna die…"

"...sugar… sweet…"

"...blood… vampire blood…"

"...don't know…"

"...something…"

"...stop…"

"...die…"

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

"I think she just twitched."

"So what? You never twitch?"

"Doesn't mean she's awake."

"How much is that now?"

"Less than a bag. Half a liter maybe."

"And we only have two? Great."

"I mean, we have a lot of vampire blood."

"That's crazy. You have no idea what that would do to her body."

"Kinda do, don't we."

"Ah, yes, I will forever remember when you warned her she'd regrow her uterus ."

"Look, healing is a very fluid concept."

"Nice try."

"What about the ice block?"

"Went back to sleep. Was just trying to explain to him what Vietnam even is."

"Well, what is Vietnam?"

"You never went to that Vietnamese restaurant over in Žižkov? It's really great, you should."

"Maybe Barton should join your lessons."

"Is that still open?"

"Sure. Nothing better than soup after a night on patrol."

"I hate all of you."

"Maybe it's our only option. The vampire blood."

"Yes, let's poison her some more."

"Steve seems to be doing fine!"

"Have you checked his teeth?"

"I think she twitched again."

"I saw nothing."

"Didn't see anything either."

"Oh, now she definitely twitched."

"Maybe she can hear us?"

"I hope she can't hear all of you idiots."

"I'm just glad her blood pressure is going up."

"Yeah, really surprising she has more blood now that we pumped it directly into her veins."

"Shut up."

"Excuse me, I have to explain to Steve who you even are ."

A door slams somewhere above.

"Oh great. Is that…"

"You expect anyone else?"

"Really been looking forward to that."

She hardly hears the steps but the swooshing cloak. "What the fuck are you doing?"

James. That's James' voice. She tries to pry her eyes open just a little. "That's something you should answer. Or rather, what you were doing."

She feels a gush of cold air and the touch of cold firm stone that slowly warms up. "Is she hurt? Was it the raid-"

"Pregnant. She's pregnant."

"She's what ?"

"Oh, now you're surprised ?"

"Hey," she croaks out.

More of the cold touch on her hand. "Oh, Nat. Are you- how do you- how are you?"

"Mhm." Her mouth is too numb to talk but she tries to smile. "Mhm."

"Her blood pressure is very low," Bruce explains. "This thing is basically sucking the blood and the sugar and the nutrients out of her and using that to grow rapidly. I'm afraid she won't be able to handle it much longer."

"Then why haven't you gotten rid of it-"

"Mhm!"

"We haven't decided yet. And we're still waiting for a gynaecologist because I definitely can't do that."

"How is it even possible that-"

"Oh, fuck off. As if you don't know."

"Of course I don't know! How was I supposed to- I'm a fucking vampire, if you haven't noticed."

"Well, certain things seem to be working just fine. Looks like you noticed that."

"Don't get gross, Tony. Well, she had her uterus removed, years ago, so she shouldn't have been able to get pregnant. But it’s back now. Our theory is that the injection of vampire blood somehow reconstructed or regrew it."

"I mean, she's been injecting it for months, on and off. But why that would affect her- it doesn't fix scars either, that's not how vampire blood works."

"Wait, for months?"

"She didn't wanna tell you. To get stronger, to heal faster."

"Wow, you're both the worst."

"But it worked for her? I don't think she had a lot of adverse side effects- apart from the uterus thing. We could really use that now."

"Mhm."

"I think she wants to say something."

"Mhm!"

"Give her something to drink, that should help."

"Is that Coca Cola ?"

"Kofola. Don't ask, it was a longer discussion."

"Has a lot of sugar, though."

"Still disgusting."

"Sweetheart, if you don't like it here, just go home."

"Mhm. Mhm."

"It's for the blood sugar."

Someone helps her lift her back, sit up. Steadies her with a pillow. She opens her mouth tentatively and starts drinking. Her lips and mouth are still numb so she drools a little but she's also quite thirsty. She has no idea what time or day it is. The sugary drink, carbonated, caffeinated, it seems to go to her brain as well, waking her up. She leans back, eyes fluttering open. Very bright. "More?" Sam's vague shape asks, very close.

She shakes her head slowly, blinking. "So when is that other doctor coming?" James' voice asks.

"She's in Italy," Fury says. "Could take a few days."

She gathers her breath and her spit. "No."

They turn to her, still vague silhouettes. "I don't want the-"

Her voice is breaking and she's not sure they even hear her. "I should change the blood bag," Bruce says.

"She's still very pale," Pepper says. "I don't like it."

"James," she whispers. He's sitting at her bedside, holding her hand. He's warmer than her.

"Pulse?" Fury asks.

"Still rather quick," Bruce replies. "I'll put in the second one. And then we'll just have to see."

She tries to squeeze James' hand, weakly. "Yeah, she can't eat all the time," Sam says. "I'm not even sure her stomach can work quick enough."

"This is too much," Sharon whispers. "For her body."

"Well, maybe should have thought about that beforehand," Tony needles.

James hisses at him, all fangs. "As if that was- what do you even want, just help her already."

"Trying," Bruce mutters, somewhere on her left.

"Just take it out," James pleads. "Just, for the love of God, please kill that thing before it kills her. Please."

"James," she whispers, holding onto his hands.

"Yeah, tell her that," Clint advises. "Cause she won't hear it."

"James," she whispers. "Please. No."

"Everyone's crazy here," Tony states.

"Okay, done," Bruce says. "I really don't know about the vampire blood."

"She's barely conscious," Sam remarks. "I'm not sure she can- tell what she wants. If she really understands the situation."

"The situation he got her into," Tony points out. "Let's not forget that."

"Come on, we all know her," Clint says. "She'd never- if she were in her right mind, she'd get rid of that monster instantly."

She digs her nails into James' hand. "Guys!"

"Get out," James demands coldly. "All of you."

Of course, Tony can't keep himself from a final dig. "Isn't that just how we got here-"

"Out," James hisses. "I won't ask again."

"We'll wait outside," Fury says.

Natasha relaxes slightly, slumping back against the pillow. She really can't see well but she feels James' warm hands around hers. "Thank- Thanks."

The door falls shut. "Oh Natalia," James mutters, stroking her cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"Drink," she says.

He takes the bottle and helps her drink. More sugar, more hydration. Maybe it's the blood transfusion but she's beginning to feel a little better, a little clearer. Boy, must she be dirty. "Do I- smell?"

"Honestly," James replies, putting the bottle away. "You smell like you are dying. Without the bleeding."

"But I want it," she whispers.

He sighs. "You maybe want a baby but… this is a monster, a parasite. That's not what you want. I can't give you that."

"You don't know that," she says.

"I can see what it's doing to you," he replies. "Please don't do that to yourself. I care about you, I love you, you're everything to me, please don't let my mistakes kill you."

"Your mistakes?" she repeats. "Don't listen to them. They'll- they'll do everything to blame you."

"I blame me," he replies. "Because I should. I dragged you through way too much even before this."

"I kissed you," she says, trying to get her argument straight. "I slept with you. I wanted to. And now I want- I believe this happened for a reason."

He snorts. "Divine punishment?"

"Before all of this, I wanted-" She takes a deep breath. "A family. I gave that up for… And now I have a baby, and I'm not going to give it up."

"It's not a baby if it sucks the life out of you," James replies. "And I can't give you anything better, I can't give you a family, I'm sorry. I wish you could… maybe, if you had run. But we're here now and… don't let this be the end."

"I might never get another chance," she remarks. "Never. And we have so much vampire blood, Bruce knows so much about- I want to try. Don't throw this away."

"I don't want you to have my-" He sighs, rubbing his thumb over her hand. "I want you to have the baby you wanted before, a human baby. A real baby. Who knows what kind of- what if it's a vampire, it's already sucking your blood. Who knows how it'll turn out. If you ever get to see that at all. I never brought you anything good."

"Don't stop me," she pleads. "Please."

"What if the vampire blood doesn't work like you think it will?" James asks. "Please don't risk that for this thing."

"The doctor won't be here immediately anyway," she whispers, exhausted again. "Try the vampire blood. Make them try. Please."

James sighs. "Anything for you, Natalia. Always."

She tries to smile. "Tell them. And I love you, too."

"Oh God." He jerks back slightly. "Please tell me you're not doing this to have my- offspring, it is not worth having. Who knows how fucked up my genes are-"

"Oh God, you idiot," she breathes. "You're not that bad. But no, not having it for you. Seriously, you thought I'm not in love with you, I was just banging you because I got bored or what-"

"Don't exhaust yourself," James interrupts.

She rolls her eyes, closing them. "I'm glad you're here."

"Wish it were under different circumstances," he says. "I'll let the others back in, if that's okay."

"Mhm." Boy, talking is exhausting her. "Yeah."

He leans forward and pecks her dry lips, his are cold, and then he's suddenly at the door. "Give her the blood transfusion. The vampire blood."

Bruce peeks in. "I can't promise it won't make it worse. Maybe she'll go into cardiac failure-"

"She's dying if you don't do it," James states.

"Oh, yeah, he's the expert," Tony's voice remarks.

"Please do it," she croaks out.

Bruce moves closer to her because her voice is so quiet. "Hm?"

"Do it," she whispers again. "I know- know- what it does."

"If she's really been taking it for months, she knows better than anyone," Sharon argues. "I'd say give her a small dosis."

"But maybe a small dosis is not enough," Pepper remarks. "How much did you give her for the black cloak?"

"The ratio between human blood and vampire blood was much different then."

"Oh, come on, weren't we going to pump the ice block full of it?"

"Yeah, but he was frozen ."

"We gave her about 200ml. But not at once."

"Just give her something already."

"But how much is something ?"

"Try a hundred."

"So she was basically juicing-"

"I don't think it will negatively impact her. The foetus…"

"That you wanted to abort against her will minutes ago."

"Yeah, honestly, if it kills that thing or slows its growth, that's not the worst thing."

"And if it supercharges it?"

"Do it," Fury's voice interrupts. "Or do you want to stand here while she's wasting away?"

"So a hundred milliliter-"

"Here's a syringe."

"Inject it straight away."

"It might conflict with the blood transfusion-"

"Brucey, now is a really bad time to play through all the doom scenarios."

There's some more indistinct talking and then the needle sinks into her arm. She's too numb to really feel it.

"Seems okay."

"Nobody said she was going to spontaneously combust."

"If it goes really wrong, we might have to amputate the arm-"

"Bruce, calm down, you're driving everyone else crazy."

"It's going to be okay."

She's beginning to feel the emptiness in her left arm that she recognizes. It's never spectacular. "Alright," Fury states. "Putting that aside-"

"Putting that aside ?" James repeats.

"Why, you wanna talk about it?" Fury asks drily.

"...No."

"Didn't think so. What is the status on the black cloaks that were going to come here every day now?"

"Wow, I really forgot about that."

"I went to the Castle and- pretended to be really surprised hearing what happened to Pierce and- they haven't heard from Schmidt yet. So I told him I could find her and hunt her down and that she probably left town. Was going to ask her to stay in… guess that's not an issue. Anyway, Rumlow sent another messenger to Schmidt, maybe that will buy us more time."

"And he believed you," Fury questions.

"Lying comes really natural to you, doesn't it," Clint remarks sourly.

"Seriously," James hisses. "You wanna do that now ?"

"Boys, calm down."

"So neither of you should be seen around town?"

"Rumlow doesn't really care. But no one knows what Schmidt is going to do."

"Well, Nat's definitely staying in."

"So you could go back? Cover intact?"

"Why would I go back ?"

"Find out what Schmidt's planning. When the messenger comes back."

"I can't do this forever."

"But how long? That's the point..."

"...already dead, so there's no hurry…"

"...might be really mad…"

"...certainly understand.."

"...looking for her…"

"...really said…"

"...kill her?"

Something starts beeping.

"Oh-oh."

#blood and stone #buckynat #natasha romanoff #black widow #bucky barnes #winter soldier #vampire au #fanfic #my writing

4 notes · View notes