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sirowsky · 3 years

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The Flowers Always Know

Description: When a mad scientist uses you as an experiment while you’re on holiday, the Heroics only just manage to save you. And in your recovery you become very close to the leader of the group. (Slow burn)

Rating: Mature/Explicit 18+ONLY

Warnings: Language, angst, smut.

Link to Masterlist

Comment: This whole chapter is Marcus POV, as he tries to navigate the fallout from your actions at the warehouse. But it proves to be harder than he ever imagined.

Chapter 44

Marcus held you to him and tried to calm his thundering heart with the feeling of your warm skin against his. He’d gotten there in time, but you’d still done something terrible, and he knew that it would stay with you forever, and he felt so bad for you. You’d been made to suffer so much, all your life, for no reason other than that other people had chosen to hurt you. He’d stopped you from killing your brother, knowing that it would do nothing but allow him to stay with you, as a lump of guilt you’d have to carry for as long as you lived. And now, he’d stopped you from killing someone even worse. Throughout all your pain, you’d somehow remained a good person. You’d been given every opportunity to accept the darkness into your soul and be lost in it, but you’d stubbornly refused, unwilling to become someone resembling your torturers. But then life had thrown you against a wall and pummelled you repeatedly, with ever increasingly painful truths, until you’d finally caved. You were right. You did deserve vengeance. You did deserve to get to hurt them back, and that’s what he would tell you when this eventually caught up to you. He would tell you that you did nothing wrong, because you did have every right to make Kane suffer.

You whispered ‘I’m sorry’, and he didn’t know what for, so he just kissed your forehead, before the drain on your body overtook you. He always hated seeing you pass out like that, because in that final moment before your eyes closed, they always lost something. Hope, will or desire… whatever it was that fell away from you in that moment, it always seemed like you stopped caring if you ever woke up again. It broke his spirit to see it, every time, because it was as though you didn’t think you deserved to come back, like nature was claiming your body back due to misuse, or something. Even now, with your child depending on you to survive, he saw that in your eyes as they slipped shut. Unworthiness.

He forced his breaking heart to shut up, and activated the comms in his watch.

“Tech, you there?”

The reply was immediate, his friend had been waiting to hear from him.

“What do you need?”

“Rainbow’s out, prep an IV for me while I drive back.”

“Got it. How much?”

“All of it.”

“All of it…? Jesus, what happened?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there. Kane’s alive, but she’s gonna need some medical attention.”

“Got it. I’ll have everything ready by the time you get here.”

Using his powers, Marcus snapped the metal post clean off the floor, and since Kane was tied to it, he could use it to transport her to the car while his arms were occupied with carrying you. Kane was not pleased with that, because without the floor to brace herself against, every movement tore at her dislocated shoulders, causing massive pain. She whined and screamed at every shift or change of direction, and he felt his temper flare. He stopped walking and turned back towards her.

“Shut the fuck up, Emily! What’s the matter, huh? You’re in a little pain? After what you’ve done to my wife, I’m seriously tempted to twist that post until it rips your fucking arms off! The only reason I stopped her is because I’m trying to save her soul, not because you deserve to live. And the only reason you still do, is because I wanna have the satisfaction of watching you, and your whole fucking organisation get picked apart by the courts, the media, and the whole god damned world.”

Marcus suspected that his Cujo quality was on full display, because Kane actually cringed away from him as he approached her. She might have been a brilliant scientist and a good actress, but she wasn’t used to pain, or being defeated. And he wasn’t much of an actor. His expression was genuine, and she could see it in his eyes. He was barely able to keep himself from hurting her, and she knew that. The rest of the walk was considerably quieter. When he got back to the cars, he opted for yours, because it was a VW Tuareg SUV, while his was a Toyota Camry sedan. Yours had a more spacious backseat where he could lay you down, and a bigger trunk too, into which he more or less tossed Kane after he’d freed her from the post, and secured her hands together instead. He also tied her to the floor of the car, just in case she got any ideas. He tried to drive calmly, but he was acutely aware of how limp you’d felt in his arms, and how important it was to get nutrition into your body as soon as possible, and it made his right foot consistently heavier. But he made it back to the camp without crashing into anyone, and quickly got you out of the car. Tech had set up the tent that he’d originally used to cover up the back-up drives, as a small med-bay for you, complete with a cot and a quadruple IV set, as well as heart-rate, blood-oxygen and blood-pressure monitors. Marcus still had a small storage of the liquid he’d asked science to produce for you, instead of the bars, and when they’d screened a microbiologist during their recruitment, he’d asked him to find out if there was anything potentially harmful within the fluids. The biologist had determined that there wasn’t, and helped Marcus to turn about half his stash into a fluid that could be used as an IV instead of having to be drunk, just in case. He had to remember to thank the biologist later.

While he and Tech hooked you up to everything, and he could see that your heart-rate was steady and you were doing okay, he felt himself exhale a deep breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

“She’s gonna be fine, Marcus. She’s stronger than all of us.”

He drooped down to his knees next to the cot and picked up your hand to hold it to his cheek, while his other hand found your belly, and felt the little life in there kick against his touch. He hadn’t dared to before, just in case he wouldn’t have felt anything. That would’ve scared him too much. Relief washed over him and silent tears began to fall down his cheeks.

“She’s only strong because she’s always had to be. I don’t want her to have to be anymore. I want her to just get to be a mom, and my wife, and just deal with the normal struggles of life. She’s earned it so many times over…”

Tech put a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezed.

“We all want that for her. I think we all joined this fight for her, whether we realised it or not.”

“Thank you, Tech. Where are we with that, anyway?”

“Complete mission success. And Aidan’s doing just fine. He’ll need a few days to recover, but he’s doing alright. So, just rest now, my friend, you’ve done everything you needed to do, and we have everything under control. The transports are being organised as we speak, and in 48 hours we’ll have all the prisoners in the Eagles Nest.”

“Kane’s in the trunk. Make sure she gets there too. If I have to look at her one more time right now – I’ll kill her.”

“What did Rain do to her?”

“Nothing she didn’t have coming. I’ll fill you in later, Tech, I just need to sit here for now.”

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

He gave another small squeeze of Marcus’ shoulder, and then left the tent. Marcus didn’t leave the tent all night, and at some point, he fell asleep sitting there in the grass made damp by his tears.

He was awoken by the morning light, reminding him that the world outside was still turning, and that he was still on the ground, sitting in an uncomfortable position. He straightened his limbs and every muscle and joint groaned and protested. His one hand was still on your belly, but the little one had stopped kicking for now. But his other hand was empty. He knew he’d fallen asleep cradling your hand to his cheek, so he looked for it, thinking he might have dropped it in his sleep. He found both your hands clasped together on the very top of your belly, and as his eyes wandered upwards, he realised that your eyes were open and staring at the roof of the tent.

“Hermosa, you’re awake. How are you fe…”

As he spoke, he moved to take your hands, and was shocked to feel you pull away from him. Unsure of what could possibly make you do that, and unwilling to force you to do anything you didn’t want, he moved his hands back and rose to his knees so he could see your face better. But you turned your head away from him too, and he could see a thick trail of tears down the side of your face, with crusts of salt lining their path, indicating you’d been crying for hours. At first, he thought it was just a reaction to waking up to another medical facility, with him having been too worried to leave you. He knew that you felt undeserving of care at the best of times, and after last night, that was probably made a hundred times worse. But you were actually pulling away from him, trying to hide from him, right now, and that had to come from more than just a feeling of unworthiness. You were ashamed. Of your own actions, of what you’d proven yourself capable of, what you’d almost done right in front of your husband, despite him begging you not to. You’d shown him the darkest part of yourself, and now you were too ashamed to even let him look at you. He sat there for a while, just staring at you, trying to find something. A way of telling you that it didn’t matter how much darkness you’d shown him, because he knew that the light would always win, in the end. Some combination of words that would make you see that you could never scare him away.

“Hey, don’t do that. I need you to face this just as much as I’m having to face it. No matter how badly it hurts. If we’re ever going to be able to leave this behind, we have to tackle it together. So, don’t turn away from me, please. Turn to me.”

He remembered the words, as well as every nuance of your voice as you’d spoken them, and he quoted you exactly as you’d once spoken those words to him. They were among the most precious words you’d ever given him, because when you said them, you were still in pain, a pain that he had caused, and yet, you were asking him to come closer. To use the hurt that existed between the two of you, to bring you closer, and he’d been amazed that you’d been able to have that perspective at that time.

“That was different.”

You voice was raspy and thick with how much you’d been crying. But he didn’t agree with your words.

“How so?”

He saw your eyes close, and your arms wrap a little tighter around yourself, as if there was something you were trying to shut out, or keep away from you. And he just kept wishing that that something wasn’t him.

“Because you were ashamed of hurting me. I’m ashamed of what I am.”

“You’re ashamed of being a protective mother? A wonderful wife? A warrior?”

“A failure…”

That word cut like no blade ever could, straight through his chest. Your actions made you feel like you’d failed? At what? Nothing you’d done was without cause or an understandable explanation. If you felt like you’d failed at something, it must be at your own expectations. Your hopes that the darkness wouldn’t be able to taint you enough to make you torture someone. But the fact that you had, still didn’t make you a failure, it just made you human.

“How have you failed, mi amor? Seriously, explain it to me.”

He saw you draw a deep breath, as fresh tears spilled and pain became evident in your features, even though he could only see a fraction of your face.

“Because… I was supposed to be… better. I sold this whole war to people… on the concept that… we were better than them. Unwilling to use the same methods.”

“Oh, preciosa, that doesn’t mean you failed.”

“Yes, it fucking does!”

He flinched as your anger flared, and you were suddenly on your feet, on the other side of the cot, ripping the IVs from your arms even though they weren’t quite finished yet, fumbling with the tape that still clung to your skin, irrationally getting angry with it when your shaking hands couldn’t rid yourself of it. He quickly moved around the foot of the cot, and wrapped his arms around your chest from behind, trapping your arms underneath his, and locking you against his chest. As much as it pained him to see you so disgusted with yourself, he loved that there was fire in you still. He loved that you fought against his arms as he restrained you, because it meant you were still the same person. Your strength hadn’t gone anywhere, your determination was still in place, and as long as he knew that, he also knew you’d find your way back to yourself.

“Get your hands off me, Marcus!”

“No. I’m not gonna let you take this path, you know that. No matter what you think about yourself right now, I can guarantee you that no one on our side of this war considers anything that you’ve done to be wrong. They all know what’s been done to you, what you’ve been forced to endure, and there’s not one of them that could match your suffering, so you’d better believe they wouldn’t dare try and judge you.”

“Well, they should. They should fucking hate me!”

“The only one that hates you right now, is you. And that’s your own battle to fight. You can scream at me all you want, you can thrash and fight against me with all your strength, but it won’t make any difference. Because it’s not me, or anyone else, you’re actually fighting.”

He could feel the exact moment that his words sunk in. The moment when you accepted that he was right, and that you were lost. It felt as though you somehow fell into yourself, and he just knew that you were about to crash into some kind of wall or floor within yourself, and that he needed to keep you from doing that. He quickly swung you around to face him, and captured your lips in a deep and searing kiss, moving his hands down to the small of your back, freeing you to hold him in return, should you want to. And pushing your hips into his, trying to coax your body into staying heated from your anger, and keep it away from shutting down and drawing you into depression. Your response was slow, but increasing, and he quickly hardened against you as he felt you cave to your heart’s desires, ignoring whatever shit your brain was trying to hold on to, and begin to return his affection. As soon as he felt your hips start to grind into his, he worked your pants down and slid a hand between your legs. You responded so beautifully to his touch, suddenly holding him closer, kissing him deeper, and gushing over his fingers, craving more. He guided you down into the grass and took your pants all the way off, before doing the same with his own. Your whole body seemed to be begging for him, as though, through his touch he could somehow convince you that you were wrong about yourself. That you still deserved him and every ounce of his respect and adoration for you. He worked his way inside you slowly, letting you feel every inch, every ridge and crease, while his hands and mouth spoke volumes of his affection for you, in no way lessened by having witnessed your darkness. He loved how you closed in around him after he seated himself inside you. Even now, when nothing was right in your world, your body still knew exactly what it wanted, and how to get it. Even though he could barely move with how closely you held him, he didn’t really need to, because your walls actually moved over him. Smooth as silk and sweet as honey you slipped along his length, letting him feel what his presence inside you did to you, and it was as overwhelming now as it had been the very first time. He gently drove you higher, listening to the cues your body gave him, all of which he knew so well by now. Telling him when you needed him to push harder, or change the angle, or pick up the pace of those small movements. He ran his current through you, and your energy responded, melding with him on every level you were capable of, and deepening your experience, taking you into that valley before you began to climb towards the peak. You were letting him feel what he was making you feel, something you hadn’t done since that time you’d levitated, and it made his pleasure skyrocket. His current doubled in intensity, and you cried out with pleasure as his movements got desperate, needing to bring you over with him. Your arms locked around his back, and his did the same around yours, but he had to move his head to the side of yours so he could breathe properly. And since that placed his mouth right by your ear, he took the opportunity to whisper to you. You were in a tent, after all, and both Tech and Aidan were somewhere nearby. He couldn’t care less if they heard your gasps, pants and grunts, but the intimate whispers where only for you.

“I love you, mi corazón. Always. Now, cum over me, and let the whole world know that you are the only one that deserves this part of my heart.”

The moment just before you came was his favourite. The way you tightened and swelled around him, making it impossible to move at all, followed by the wave that rolled along your walls, bringing them up to his base, and then squeezing him ever so deliciously on their way down along his shaft again. And they did this every second for a good minute while you rode out your orgasm. And this time it was made all the more intense and overpowering as he could feel your pleasure on top of his own. The way your muscles coiled so tightly in your abdomen that they forced your body to curve against his, and push you both up from the ground. The way even your lungs constricted so that you couldn’t breathe in between the waves, and the way your nerves sent blistering tendrils of pleasure from your core and all the way down to your toes, and even up into your scalp. But you did scream, in every exhalation of your orgasm, a deep and throaty, almost animalistic scream escaped you, until you were too tired to produce it anymore. His own release followed right along with yours, as there was no way in hell he could hold back against all the pleasure you were giving him, and that incredible overload of sensation from his whole pelvis, drove up along his spine and into his arms and legs to blend with the already overpowering might from your body. He screamed too, and it was strangely cathartic, given the circumstances. Once he regained some function in his body, he propped himself up on his elbows so he could stay inside you, knowing how much you loved that, but not crush you, and be able to look at you.

“Tell me you believe me, hermosa. Tell me you know that you haven’t failed.”

You closed your eyes, presumably to escape the intensity of his eyes, while you considered your answer. He didn’t like that, but he let you have that moment anyway.

“I still feel like I’ve done something… truly disgusting. And I don’t know how to live with that.”

“Please, look at me.”

He was pleased to see you open your eyes, and focus on him. But there was still fear in those eyes, as though you still expected to be met with rejection or revulsion. And he was a little hurt that you thought he could ever feel something like that towards you. But he also knew that those feelings didn’t come from your heart, but from your fears, and that could distort even the most beautiful thoughts into nightmares.

“You live with it by knowing that no one is gonna walk away from you because of it. By knowing that your family will never love you any less for showing yourself to be human, for once. You’ve become so used to pain and grief and sorrow being a part of life, that you don’t even see how amazingly tolerant you are. You’ve been carrying real darkness inside your heart for a very long time, and everyone who knows you wonders how the hell you do that without falling apart. Without losing all sense of joy and wonder. You haven’t failed, sweetheart, not at all. You’ve just finally reached your limit, and you should never be ashamed of that, because you held on for longer than anyone else ever could have. And because of that, you’ll never see anything but pride in my eyes when I look at you. So, you live with it by letting me look at you, and remembering these words every time I do.”

You didn’t speak, and for an eternally long moment, he couldn’t decipher your expression at all. But then the tiniest hint of a smile crept into your frame, right before your stomach growled.

“What she said…”

There was much sadness in your voice when you spoke, and he suspected there would be for some time to come. But the fact that your attempt at humour wasn’t overplayed or forced, meant that you were taking your emotional situation seriously, rather than trying to appease him with attempting to appear cheerful, when you really weren’t. This was a healthy response, and he took comfort in that, even if he’d wished you could have simply told him that you believed him. Time would tell if you ever would.

“Okay, then, mama bear. Food it is.”

Author’s Note: As always, I love criticism, please don’t be shy to let me know if there’s anything you like/don’t like/have questions about.

@allmyspideys @blueeyesatnight @hrk-fic-recs @strawberryperegrine @lucrezia-thoughts @computeringturtle @sarahjkl82-blog @giselatropicana @ayamenimthiriel

#marcus moreno #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno fic #we can be heroes #we can be heroes fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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