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momentofmemory · 5 years

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fictober - day sixteen

Prompt #16: “Listen. No, really listen.”

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe - Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Netflix Marvel (Daredevil)

Rating: T

Warnings: Sensory Overload, Explosions

Characters: Peter Parker & Matt Murdock

Words: 2279

Author’s Note: set somewhere between spider-man: homecoming and avengers: infinity war (but after DD s3). this was not meant to be as long as it is and i guess maybe i’m writing more of them now?? only time will tell…

>>I Hear, Said the Blind Man

A sword comes flying out of nowhere at his head, and Peter thinks that is this is exactly why he should never leave Queens.

The great thing about being a superhero in New York City is that the city is arguably huge, but patrolling never feels like it because of the sheer number of vigilantes in the area. Queens is his, but Harlem belongs to some guy called Luke Cage, the aptly named Brooklynite has, well, Brooklyn, and the Bronx has—

…Does the Bronx have anyone, actually?

Peter backflips mid-thought to avoid getting skewered by another very pointy sword, then launches himself at the ceiling as it’s immediately followed by a blast from the alien guns he’s been tracking all month.

Hell’s Kitchen is technically Daredevil’s place, and he knows the guy’s pretty territorial but he didn’t exactly have a way of contacting him, so.

Field trip.

“Do you even have a license for these?” Peter fires his web-shooters at the closest gun-wielding ninja, yanking the contraption away and slamming its wielder into one of the supports. “I know you guys are like, two hundred years out of date, but the DA tends to be pretty strict on enforcing unauthorized carry laws.”

Peter takes advantage of his perch in the rafters to remove the power core from the gun, then chucks the useless shell at its previous owner. A warning blares at the base of Peter’s skull, and he lurches to the side just in time to avoid a throwing star aimed for his chest.

“Okay, I get it, I get it, no one likes unsolicited legal advice.”

Peter’s hand snaps out and wraps around the wrist of the ninja trying to sneak up on him. “I’m not a fan of unsolicited murder, either!”

The ninjas are definitely way more skilled than he is, but what Peter lacks in finesse he makes up for in raw strength. He sidesteps the ninja’s sword (man, these guys are quiet), then throws him forcefully over his shoulder and into the last ninja.

They both go down and stay down.

Peter hops down to floor and dusts himself off—rafters are always disgusting—and nudges one of the fallen ninjas with his toe. There’s no sign of consciousness, so he slides around the black-clad figure to check on the box the guns were packed in. He peeks over the edge of the crate and notes only one is missing—the one he’d already disarmed. He breathes a sigh of relief.

“Score one for the Queens kid,” Peter says, webbing the last gun and snapping it to his outstretched hand. “I hope you enjoyed the show but I will not be here all night, because some of us have calculus tests to study for.”

Peter slips his phone out of its hidden pocket, and is just about to call the police when his sixth sense lights up his entire spine. He whirls around just in time to see at least twelve more ninjas slip into the warehouse.

He’s surrounded.

“Listen guys,” he says, ignoring the warnings Karen’s blaring into his feed, “if this is your idea of a surprise party I gotta say, you need to work on your presenta—”

Peter’s cut off when a ninja materializes beside him, and he barely gets the gun up in time to block his opponent’s attack. He flinches when the blade still goes more than three-fourths of the way through the metal casing.

He shoves the man using more of his super strength than he’d normally be comfortable with, and the ninja flies across the room and lands in a soundless heap. “Not to go full nineties, but I knew I should have stayed home today.”

That’s the last quip or takedown Peter manages to pull off, because while he’d done pretty well against five ninjas, he is no match for a dozen. Peter tries his best to make offensive moves when he can, but for the most part he’s caught in an endless cycle of successful and slightly less successful dodging. He’s further handicapped by the fact that he’s trying to stay in the vicinity of the weapons container, certain that the second he loses sight of it, it’ll be gone. After the fifth sword swipe he’d failed to entirely avoid, Peter thinks maybe he should give up on that part.

In that moment, two things happen.

First, a red and black billy club comes flying from the rooftop and incapacitates the ninja about to turn Peter into a shish kabob, and Peter thinks holy shit I’m going to meet Daredevil.

Second, said ninja’s sword is redirected towards the weapons crate and slices clean through one of the power cores, and Peter thinks holy shit I’m going to die.

Then Peter’s world explodes.

Or at least, Peter’s pretty sure that’s what happens, because he doesn’t have any other explanation for how he goes from fighting for his life in a warehouse to leaning against a chimney on a rooftop.

“You all right?”

Peter turns his head towards the voice, but everything feels muted, like that one time the Vulture dropped him into a lake. Or like that one time the Vulture nearly got them both blown up.

That last one’s probably more relevant.

Peter starts to yank his mask off in an attempt to breathe easier before he remembers he’s not alone. Instead, he blinks a few times, trying to get his eyes to focus. Slowly, the blurry shape in front of him materializes into the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.

Then everything else materializes, too.

He doesn’t feel any injuries from the explosion per se, the suit having protected him from the brunt of it, but it’s wreaked absolute havoc on his senses. Sound comes rushing in as his accelerated healing repairs the damage to his eardrums, and it’s too much, too fast, too loud.

“Karen, turn the—turn the dampeners on,” he gasps.

He sees hears feels Daredevil tense across from him, but he doesn’t have the brain capacity to figure out reason for the Devil’s reaction.

“I’m sorry, Peter. The settings for limited sensory deprivation are not available at the moment.”

The blood drains from Peter’s face, and his already high-pitched voice jumps an entire octave. “What do you mean not available?”

“Some of my systems appear to have been damaged in the explosion. The suit will require manual repair in order to bring them back online.”

“Spider-Man?” Daredevil’s voice is too loud, too close.

Peter waves a hand in front of him, trying to get him and all the noise associated with him to go away.

“Your blood pressure appears to be spiking, Peter. Do you require assistance?”

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. “No, I’m fine Karen, I just—I—shit.”

It’s childish, and dammit Peter wanted to make a cool first impression on another superhero for once, but instead he presses his hands over his ears and whines because it’s just so much and it’s everywhere and it’s—it’s—

It’s his heartbeat thumping wildly out of control in his chest—

It’s the crunch of gravel under Daredevil’s feet—

It’s the wind skipping across the roof and over the air conditioning units—

It’s the cat stalking a mouse on the street below; the man rifling through the garbage; the hurried footsteps of late night traffic; tourists with cameras, car horns honking, brakes squealing, engines backfiring, locals yelling, sirens wailing; the sound of his breathing, the leather in the Devil’s costume, the drip of a drainpipe, the drip, the drip, the DRIP—

Daredevil squats down in front of him and Peter’s head jerks up.

“Can you hear me?”

Peter bites his lip so hard it bleeds, because he’s pretty sure Daredevil is whispering but it sounds like it’s being shouted through an air horn. “That’s—that’s kind of the problem, Mr. Daredevil, sir, I’m really sorry—”

“It’s okay.” The cat hisses on the street, and Daredevil lowers his voice even further. “Can you listen?”

Peter thumps his head against the chimney, because he just said that’s all he can do right now and the cat’s just caught that mouse and—

“No,” Daredevil says, interrupting his spiral. “Really listen.”

Shit, does he have mind reading powers?

“Pick one sound and listen to that.” The Devil keeps talking, and somehow Peter hears him over the rest of the noise. “It’s okay if you still hear the others—but only listen to one.”

Peter slowly lowers his hands from his ears and tries, but there’s just so many of them.

A window slams shut two buildings over at the same time Daredevil clears his throat. “There’s a grandfather clock with a second hand that skips every third tick, in an apartment building four blocks from here.”

Four blocks what the hell—

“I uh—I can’t go quite that far,” Peter stammers, cautiously opening an eye. “But there’s a drainpipe across the street that keeps dripping.”

Daredevil tilts his head to the side, then smiles. “In front of Dahlia’s Flower Shop.”

“I guess so.” Peter closes his eyes again.

Peter hears Daredevil back away from him, just a few feet, to keep from crowding him. “Tell me about it.”

His concentration slips when a tourist stops in the middle of the sidewalk and someone starts berating them. “It’s… a drainpipe?”

“Is it metal? Concrete? Plastic?” Daredevil takes out his billy-club and rotates it between his hands. “What does the way it echoes sound like?”

Peter searches the dripping noise out and tries to focus on the water and the wind.

“…Metal,” he decides.

“Is the water fresh, or dirty?”

Peter doesn’t know how to distinguish between the two at first, but then he imagines the way dirty water sloughs through pipes as opposed to the way clean water glides, and when he realizes he can isolate the smell, too, he says, “Dirty.”

“And how high is the pipe when the water drops out?”

Peter listens to the water separating at the mouth of the pipe, waits for how long it takes for the splash as it hits the ground. “…Two feet?”

“Good.” The smile is still in the Devil’s voice. “Last question: what is the water landing on.”

Peter tilts his head in the same way Daredevil had, and strains his hearing to pick up as much detail as he can. The water coming out of the drainpipe feels hard, like the metal encasing it, but when it lands the splash is muted—like it’s sliding to a stop instead of hitting a flat surface. There’s also an almost bouncy quality to it, so it must be something that’s not rigid—something delicate, or fragile.

He remembers what Daredevil had said about the shop the pipe was connected to, and his eyes fly open with a grin.

“Flowers!”

Daredevil nods and sits back against one of the air conditioning units. Peter keeps listening to the sound, wondering what else he can figure out about it.

After a few minutes, Daredevil slides his billy-club back into its holder. “How’s your hearing?”

“Wha—?” Peter jerks his attention back to Daredevil, and suddenly realizes the world has gone back to sounding like Normal-New-York, instead of Acid-Trip-New-York. His eyes widen.

“Whoa, thanks! It normally takes forever to go back to normal when this happens. How’d you learn to do that?”

“Not in any way I’d recommend,” he says, propping his elbow up on his knee and letting his hand hang down. “Now, at the risk of sounding needlessly overbearing, what’re you doing in my city on a school night?”

“Oh, uh, well I didn’t really mean to come all the way out here, but I’ve been trying to track down this weapon’s deal for like a month and—” Peter chokes as he registers the end of Daredevil’s sentence. “Wait, school night? Why would uh, why would that matter?”

“It’s your heartbeat. Too fast to be an adult’s.”

“I was panicking!”

“And your voice?”

“…Also panicking!” He clears his throat and attempts to drop a half step. “Not that I am anymore. Because I’m a superhero. Adult. Adult superhero.”

“Hearing people’s heartbeats also means I can tell when they’re lying.”

Peter freezes, then drops his head into his hands. “Shit.”

“Are you old enough to say that?”

Peter’s indignant. “Yes!” Then he pauses. “Wait, if we’re here does that mean the ninja guys got away?”

Daredevil shrugs. “The blast took out all of the weapons. The Hand wasn’t interested in sticking around after that.”

“The Hand?”

“…Stick to Queens, kid.”

Peter flinches and draws his knees in to his chest, which probably doesn’t help his image, but. He’s really tired of being a disappointment.

Daredevil gets to his feet and for a second, Peter thinks he’s just going to leave him. Then a gloved hand appears in front of his face.

Peter looks up in surprise.

“You’ve got talent, Spider-Man,” he says, and Peter notices he doesn’t remove the man part.

“Really?” Peter’s mood lifts almost instantaneously. “I mean—yeah, yeah of course. Talent. You too.”

Daredevil shakes his head, but pulls Peter to his feet without commenting on his exuberance. “Give me a call if you hear anything else about weapons—or ninjas—in Hell’s Kitchen. Maybe we can work something out next time.”

“Whoa,” Peter breathes, his feet rooted to the ground as Daredevil walks away. Daredevil’s already reached the edge of the roof before an important thought occurs to him. “Hey, wait, I don’t have your number!”

Daredevil smirks. “You don’t need one.”

With that, the vigilante flips off the roof to the next building, and disappears behind its slope. Peter stares at nothing, and wonders if he should try to chase him down.

Then Peter hears water dripping out of a drainpipe, and thinks four blocks down.

Peter grins.

#fictober19 #mcu fanfic #peter parker fic #daredevil fic #peter parker #matt murdock #daredevil #fanfiction #tw: explosion #tw:sensory overload #whumptober19 #memsfic

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ithinkthereforiamfandom · 5 years

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Beaten

He knew he would die there when the bastard picked up the crowbar and started beating into his ribs. He knew the damage it would do would likely kill him and in the second hour he figured it was close.

He must be loosing blood internally, he could smell his brother, olfactory hallucination, because Mycroft hadn't worn that hideous cologne since he finished Uni. Mum used to buy it for him. Then the new general spoke in a perfect Serbian accent and he knew his brother was in the room.

None of these idiots spoke perfect anything, Mycroft must have come to rescue him. He knew he couldn't say anything or he would give his brother away... but the beating continued.

He was sure it was going into a third hour and Mycroft had said Nothing, sat there prim and still as Sherlock heard two of his own ribs break. A hacking cough landed bloody sputum on the floor and Mycroft said nothing. His control was starting to slip as the pain went from sharp blows to a burning numbness.

"Myc, Myc, MYCROFT!" Sherlock broke crying out into John's arms. John must have come upstairs from the tedious Christmas party after opening his gifts. John smelled like Mycroft's old cologne, Mummy!

...

John froze as Sherlock violently shoved him away and started rifling through thier gift sacks. "Mummy, Mummy gave This hideous fragrance to my brother when he was in University!! He was wearing it when he come to collect me, in Serbia, so I would know it was him." John felt the blood drain from his face.

He had come upstairs and been undressing when Sherlock had started moaning in his sleep, cuddling up to him had always worked in the past but tonight he had just made everything worse!

Sherlock was wrapping the offending bottle in a towel so John grabbed his toiletries and dashed to the bathroom for a shower. He was having the fastest Army shower ever when Sherlock barged in with him, soaking his silk pajamas, and took over with his own body wash.

John has been startled but soon relaxed, stopped trying to help, and let his distressed Lovely drench him in his own scents. He waited pliantly as Sherlock washed him, used his own shampoo in John's hair and fussily slicked some conditioner through it for good measure. He would have protested but he was getting a heavenly scalp massage and he smelled just like Sherlock. Perfect.

...

John was resting against his chest now. John smelled like him and was clearly so content that he wasn't even scolding about his soaked trousers. Sherlock shut the water down and dried off his Beloved. Naked they settled back into bed and Sherlock wound around his John happily smoothing lotion into his warm skin.

It took a few minutes but he was finally caught out indulging himself, pampering the unpamperable, as blue eyes cleared of thier pleasant fog and locked with his own. He had been very pleasantly applying moisturizer to John's chest at the time. "Fussing. And I'm sorry Love, I know I didn't know but I'm still sorry."

Sherlock lifted the hand that had captured his own and kissed each knuckle. "I'm okay now John, you smell much better." He shoved his cold nose into John's neck. "I smell like You, you mean." "Of course!" Unrepentant he snuggled closer. "Stay, I'll be much better if you stay."

John arms returned the anaconda grip and they both settled down to sleep.

@mofftissfan @sarahthecoat @loveismyrevolution @riorothbates @underestimatemethatwillbefun @anotherwellkeptsecret @benaddictedandsherlocked @johnlockismyreligion @almosttomorocco @superwholocklmt @strangeps3lyricsmuffin @chinike @loves-to-read-fanfic @sillystring111 @ben-locked @jobooksncoffee @johnlockunicorn @chained-to-the-mirror @thinkanddoodle-batch @melmey-fanfics @the-persian-slipper @melsesowieso @morgendaemmerung89 @shiplocks-of-love @pri1982 @kitten-kin @221b-gone-feels @theconsultinglinguist @francj96 @sabrina-phynn @colourfulwatson @thejohnlockoutlet @lady-phoenix-of-tardis @shoshililly @mrb488 @yaycoffee @pippn-frodo @barbsiebabe @skullinitium @boisinberryjamarama

#whumptober19 #no.28

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inkace · 5 years

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Whumptober2019 - III

No11 - Stitches

No12 - "Don't Move"

No13 - Adrenaline

No14 - Tear-Stained

No15 - Scars

#whumptober #whumptober2019 #whumptober19 #whump #whumper #whumpee #no11 #no12 #no13 #no14 #no15 #don't move #tear-stained #scars #Adrenaline #stitches #art #sketch

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jeffersonhairpie · 5 years

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Chapters: 22/31 Fandom: Wicked - All Media Types, Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Unreality Summary: The side effects of magic are less than wonderful

#gelphie #gelphie fic #wicked fic #whumptober2019 #whumptober19 #day 22 #hallucination #shitty text post #rixy writes fic

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jd-the-flying-fox · 5 years

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Shaky Hands

This used to be an older style of mine and i think ill do most of whumptober like this! It’s really fun and i hope i’ll go through with most of this years whumptober

#Shakyhands #knife #blood #?#maybe #space #stars #abstract #stylized #shaky hands #geometrical #whumptober #whumptober19 #no.1 #whumptober2019 #inktober

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myanxietyhasanxieties · 5 years

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Hi guys it’s late, but I wrote this for Whumptober with the prompt from day 11, Stiches. I’ve never written for any of these things before but have always wanted to. I’m new to this so I hope I’m posting right. ❤️

#whumptober day 11 #whumptober19 #irondad #stiches #no. 11 #its late #oops

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ao3feed-arthureames · 4 years

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Gunpoint

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3bsGrKl

by Freudhood

So this is a compilation of the Whumptober19 prompts that I've decided to begin in april 2020 and that I will probably finish in August 2035 because that's how I am. I fully intend on making these characters suffer for the sake of everyone else's distraction, (also because I'm bored during confinement), so take a seat and grab a snack, we are in for a long 31 chaptered ride.

1- Shaky hands

Words: 1821, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Inception (2010)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: Arthur (Inception), Eames (Inception), Dom Cobb, Mal Cobb, Yusuf (Inception), Ariadne (Inception)

Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception), Dom Cobb/Mal Cobb, Ariadne (Inception)/Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Whump, decided to begin whumptober prompts because I need to make my fave characters suffer, arthur is an angel who deserves happiness but sorry for him he won't have much, BAMF Arthur (Inception), Work In Progress, no beta we die like men

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3bsGrKl

#fanfic #fics #Inception #Arthur x Eames #Arthur Eames #Arthur/Eames #ao3feed

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cinlat · 5 years

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Fictober & Whumptober: Day 5

Prompt: I couldn’t choose between the two events today. So you get: “I might just kiss you.” from Fictober19 and “GunBlasterpoint” from Whumptober19 Genre: Flirty Word Count: 509 Rated: T (for suggestive material) Characters: Solish/Andronikos/Kaliyo (I don’t know why I ship these three. They are a disaster of epic proportions and everyone lives in fear of what will become of their strange relationship.) Story/series: Meet Me on the Battlefield Fandom: swtor A/N: These three are not in a healthy relationship. If that is a trigger for you, don’t read.

Odessen Landing Bay G-13 02:00

Solish leaned against the doorway, one arm wrapped around her waist while her chin rested in the other. Andronikos hated the smug look of amusement in those golden eyes. She was enjoying this; of course she was. His crazy Sith loved a good confrontation, and he’d never been far from the ignition of an explosive temper himself.

Andronikos watched Solish out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she’d step in or let him pull the trigger. It was a 50/50 bet.

Kaliyo rolled her eyes, bumping the barrel of Andronikos’s blaster with the movement. His arm was steady, weapon resting against the Rattataki’s forehead. “Your call,” Andronikos finally admitted. He didn’t want to risk Solish’s wrath if he killed her pet, but there was only so much a man could take from a smart mouthed criminal who didn’t have the decency to kill her wounded.

“That guy was dead weight,” Kaliyo snapped in a way that sounded bored. “I did you a favor.”

“For favor cost me a contact in a system where those are few and far between right now,” Andronikos shot back. “Next time, don’t.”

Kaliyo huffed and knocked the barrel out of her face. Andronikos took a step forward to glare down at the woman. He had no compunction about hitting a female when she fought as dirty as the one in front of him. Before their argument could come to blows, Solish yawned, arching her back off the door frame in a way that distracted both combatants.

Flexing her shoulders, Solish stalked towards them with a languid crace that one a Cathar could pull off. She took Andronikos’s blaster and tucked it back into his holster before patting his ass. “It’s sweet that you want to defend my disciples.” Andronikos snorted. That man had been more than a member of Solish’s cult, he’d had a bead on the Republic movements in the area.

Solish tisked, then stood on her toes, lips stopping short of making contact with his. “I might just kiss you,” she purred. Andronikos knew she could sense the effect it had on him, but he offered a droll head tilt anyway.

Solish turned without making good on her promise to address Kaliyo. “You should clear it with one of us before dispatching a contact. They are in less supply than before. Some of them quite useful.”

“Fine,” Kaliyo snapped. “Sorry your contact got fried.”

Andronikos crossed his arms, pretending to be unaffected by the way Solish caressed his mind through the Force. “I think we should find a way to settle this matter...so that everyone is satisfied.”

There was no denying the implication in Solish’s voice, and Andronikos cursed himself for the way it excited him. What the hell, they were all bound for the Void anyway, and Kaliyo had that look in her eye that she might be up for the carnal negotiations. Adding a smirk to his shaky facade of aloofness, Andronikos pinned the Rattataki with a challenging glare. “Fine. Make it up to me.”

#fictober19 #whumptober2019 #swtor fanfiction #prompt 5 #solish rasik #andronikos revel #kaliyo djannis #story: heart on a trigger #series: meet me on the battlefield #not great at relationships #don't try this at home

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long-live-the-power---rangers · 5 years

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Shaky Hands

Written for day one of Whumptober. This is yet another example, like Star Squadron, of a backstory OC team accidentally taking over the plot, and I’m kind of sorry, but not really. Just to be clear, Rex is Pink, Rita WAS Green, and Kira is Black. Also they’re doing a prison break, after rescuing Rita.

——•——

Rex feels his hand shake, as he takes the coin from his morpher.

“I should have guessed,” he says. “That your other color was Pink. Always so eager to keep us all safe.”

Rita’s hair is loose, and it makes her concern all the more pronounced, no longer looking quite as much like Vile.

“Rex…”

Rex just laughs, full-body flinching as it turns into a cough.

“I’ve…I’ve actually… missed your… your voice,” he jokes. “I’m… glad we… we got you… back.”

“You hate me,” Rita says. She really thinks that?

Well, she’s not wrong. He had hated her. But not anymore, not since she’d sacrificed herself to save them all. Not since the first question she’d asked when they found her was “is everyone okay?”

That was their real problem, or maybe it’s their real solution.

They were just too damn alike, and he hadn’t wanted to see himself in Vile’s daughter.

“Not… anymore,” Rex gasps. He locks eyes with Kira, his best friend, who nods. He knows exactly what Rex is planning, and he agrees with it. That’s all Rex needs, for this last-minute choice.

(He can feel his life fading away.)

He places his coin in her hand.

“What?” She asks.

“I… I won’t survive…” Rex gasps. “It’s yours.”

“But—”

“It’s yours,” Rex emphasizes. “Yours…”

Rita is silent, for a long moment, and her hands is loose in his, with the coin in between them.

“I… I know,” she says, finally. “Why you never trusted me.”

Rex laughs. Of course she does. That’s probably why Vile wanted her, anyways. He should have known better than to think she’d join him.

“I do now,” he says, with every bit of clarity he has left. “I trust you… to protect them.”

(And isn’t it ironic that he starts her fall by believing her above it?)

Rita just shakes her head.

“You can’t really mean—”

“I do…” he says. “I…”

He can hear the growing-closer sound of swords clashing and blasters firing, and he looks at Kira, once again. Kira’s obviously on the verge of tears, but Rex just smiles.

“You’ve… always been my… my best… friend,” he gasps. “I never… had that… before I… I came to… Darzorn.”

Nothing left. Kira laughs.

“You too,” he says. “But we have to go.”

The blaster fire comes ever closer, and Rex has no energy left, for many words. He nods, slightly.

“Leave… leave me,” he gasps.

“What?”

“But—”

“Go!”

Rex Kai-Ninjor dies alone, in a prison for Master Vile’s prisoners.

And he dies, without regrets.

(He shouldn’t have.)

#power rangers #long live the power #color: pink #color: green #whumptober19 #no. 1 #rex kai-ninjor #rita repulsa #kira kai-ninjor #fic: ficlet #series: familiarities and falls #team: mighty morphin

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ao3feed-arthurinception · 4 years

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Gunpoint

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3bsGrKl

by Freudhood

1- Shaky hands

Words: 1821, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Inception (2010)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi

Characters: Arthur (Inception), Eames (Inception), Dom Cobb, Mal Cobb, Yusuf (Inception), Ariadne (Inception)

Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception), Dom Cobb/Mal Cobb, Ariadne (Inception)/Original Female Character(s)

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3bsGrKl

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #arthur

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momentofmemory · 5 years

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fictober - day 11

Prompt #11: “It’s not always like this.”

Fandom: Spider-Man (All Media Types/Tom Holland Films)

Warnings: Stitches

Rating: G

Characters: Peter Parker/Michelle Jones, Happy Hogan

Words: 100

Author’s Note: i bit off more than i can chew with prompt #10 and it’s still not done, so here’s a quick drabble so i don’t fall behind and hopefully will finish my monstrosity tomorrow :P

>>Some Things Never Change

��It’s not always like this,” Peter says, wincing as Happy pulls the stitches in his shoulder tighter.

MJ glances over from where she’d been perched on a car hood, reading a copy of bell hook’s Ain’t I a Woman? She flicks a fallen piece of ash off her shoulder and looks unimpressed.

“You mean you don’t always do everything in your power to save others, risking life and limb, even if they’re the bad guys?”

Happy ties off the last stitch. “She’s got you there, kid.”

Peter flushes, and shrugs at MJ. “…I guess that part doesn’t change.”

She nods.

“Good.”

#fictober19 #stitches #peter parker fic #spideychelle #michelle jones #ffh spoilers #...kinda?#spider-man #peter parker #mj #whumptober19 #memsfic

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ithinkthereforiamfandom · 5 years

Text

Adrenaline

John's hands didn't even shake, not a twitch in his whole frame as he ruthlessly stabbed the needle between ribs and straight into the heart. This heart that could not be allowed to stop, not now, not tonight.

Compressions had cracked a few ribs but the man who sired Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes had to be made of stern stuff. He was counting out the interval when a sudden blow cracked awkwardly across his jaw and someone sobbed behind him.

"John! My boy, so sorry." "Its a surprisingly common reflex Dad, stay still please." The sobbing was mingled with a brief chuckle and John nearly rolled his eyes at the love of his life. He had been invited to address the Holmes elders as Mum&Dad after that fateful christmas but that was not what amused Sherlock.

"Good shot. It's not every day someone gets on in on John, Father." "Thanks." John glanced between the two of them before actually rolling his eyes. "Sherlock, Ambulance." "Here is a tick, I got Mycroft to call it in."

A weekend break had turned serious when, after a day of feeling lousy, FatherHolmes had grabbed his arm, then his chest, and promptly collapsed. John had raced to his side and Sherlock has fled out the door to return seconds later with John's first responder bag from the boot of thier rental car.

*an ambulance ride, hours under the NHS care, and an appearance from Mycroft later*

The hospital bed was as comfortable as could be expected, Mycroft had clearly been fussing. Sherlock had taken the Missus home to rest and John had stationed himself beside the bed. Watch duty or old army habits kept the man glued to his side and he could see shades of the army captain and medic in the man who sat beside him. No wonder his son was so smitten.

"You're a good man John." "I'm glad I was able to help" "John, I'm glad he has you, Sherlock. I'm glad you're in my son's life." John blinked away the gathering water and reminded himself it was just the adrenalin making emotions more volatile, a huge hand engulfed his reminding him of were he was. He tried to stifle a sniff.

A baritone chuckle wavered from the bed sounding so much like Sherlock John checked the door before he looked at the patient. "Oh you're a bit sappy, just like our Sherlock. Blame the adrenalin Soldier, we'll all be fine." John chuckled himself and squeezed the hand still in his own.

"I already did blame the adrenalin." "I'm surprised you carry it, grateful really, but surprised." "I carry full kit when we travel because you know." "Sherlock." "You never know." "Well actually I do." John felt a smile grow and some of the tension eased from his shoulders because the man beside did know.

There was a family for him now who would never question how he came to love Sherlock Holmes.

#whump drabble #whumptober19 #no.13

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