#slight John whump | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

raina-at · 1 year

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Family

John slowly opens his eyes. The room is quiet. The lights are dim, and the television over his bed is showing cartoons on mute. The blanket is uncomfortable and it smells of antiseptics and human misery.

He hates hospitals. Well, on this side of the bed at least.

There’s something heavy and warm lying on one half of his body. He looks down and sees Rosie, fast asleep, her head on John’s shoulder. Apparently, she took a bit of a break from colouring on his leg cast and fell asleep.

It’s impossible to tell what time it is, but he guesses it must be rather late.

The door opens and a nurse comes in. She smiles when she sees him awake. He nods at Rosie and motions her to be quiet and she nods.

“Everything all right?” the nurse asks quietly.

John nods. “So far so good.”

“With a bit of luck, you'll be out of here by the end of the week,” she says, adjusting his pillow. “Your husband should be back in a second, he just stepped out to take a phone call.” She smiles at Rosie’s sleeping form. “Couldn’t get either of them to leave. You have a lovely family.”

“Thank you,” John says, returning her smile, not bothering to correct her about the assumption she made about Sherlock. It’s easier this way, no arguments about visiting hours. Also, he’s used to it. So many people think they’re lovers, and he’s long since stopped even trying to explain that they’re not, because honestly, it doesn’t make any difference.

“Looks like the little one might be out for the night. I’ll bring in a cot for her later, we can settle you both more comfortably.”

“Thank you,” John repeats.

The door opens again, and Sherlock walks in.

“Hey,” John greets him with a weak smile.

Sherlock looks tired, but he returns John’s smile. “Hey yourself.”

The nurse excuses herself, muttering about seeing to the cot.

Sherlock sits down next to John’s bed and scrutinises him with narrowed eyes and what John calls his ‘deduction face’. “You still feel like shit, don’t you?”

“I was hit by a car not 48 hours ago, what do you think?” John asks, but he keeps his tone gentle because Sherlock looks exhausted and worried. “It’s not that bad, though. Could have been worse.”

“Three broken ribs, a broken leg and a light concussion, that’s not trivial, John.”

John holds out his hand and Sherlock takes it, clasps John’s fingers between both of his hands, moving closer to the bed.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” John says, gently, quietly, careful not to wake Rosie.

“Hardly your fault,” Sherlock mutters, looking down at their joined hands with a murderous expression. “That stupid driver. He’s lucky you weren’t hurt any worse, or I would have murdered him with my bare hands. Or maybe I would have just broken all his bones but let him live a life of misery and-”

“Calm down, love, you’re going to wake the Gremlin,” John soothes, squeezing Sherlock’s hand tightly.

Sherlock grumbles something inaudible, but he subsides with the threats.

Silence falls, and John watches Sherlock watch him. There’s obviously something on Sherlock’s mind, but John knows from experience that it’s better to let Sherlock work things out in his own time.

“They didn’t let me see you,” Sherlock finally says, quietly. His eyes drop to John’s hand still entwined with his. “I had to tell them we’re married, otherwise they would’ve made me leave.”

“But you’re next of kin on all of my records,” John answers, frowning in confusion.

“There was a problem with the Internet, they couldn’t access your records.”

“I’m sorry, that must have been stressful,” John says, squeezing Sherlock’s hand. “I remember when they wouldn’t let me see you after you were shot.” He shudders a bit at the memory. “It was horrible. I didn’t know whether you were dead or alive for hours. I had to wait for Mycroft before they’d tell me anything.”

Sherlock looks down at their joined hands again, obviously lost in thought. “I was so scared,” he mutters, almost inaudibly.

“You held it together like a hero for Rosie, though,” John says with a fond smile, remembering Sherlock and Rosie just before he was wheeled into surgery, Rosie holding on to Sherlock’s hand in a death grip, Sherlock white as a sheet but outwardly composed, explaining calmly to Rosie that John would be just fine.

“I was sick in the bathroom when Mrs Hudson came to take her home,” Sherlock mutters, still addressing their entwined hands.

John smiles fondly. “I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“John-” Sherlock looks up from their joined hands. “This is going to sound incredibly stupid-”

“We should get married,” John says, interrupting Sherlock.

Sherlock looks gobsmacked, and John congratulates himself silently for managing to surprise Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock blinks a few times in the way he has when his mind palace crashes, so John decides to take over the talking out loud part of the conversation. “I’ve thought about it before, but it never seemed urgent. But you know what I thought yesterday, when I saw you standing there? If anything happens to me, they’ll send Rosie to live with my sister, and we can’t let that happen.”

“But-” Sherlock blinks again. “But we’re not-”

“Sleeping together?”

Sherlock nods and actually blushes a bit. “I don’t-”

“You don’t want that, and I understand. I don’t, either. I know you don’t like sex, and I’m not interested in a sexual relationship with you,” John says gently. “But you’re everything else to me. You’re my friend, my confidante, my rock, my partner, my co-parent. My family. We live together, we work together, we’re raising a child together. You know how often I get asked if I have a partner? I never hesitate to say yes because that’s what you are.”

“You said romantic entanglements would complete me,” Sherlock says, his voice hoarse with emotions, his eyes wide and uncertain.

“That was six years ago, and I’ve learned a lot since then. You taught me a lot. Love is complicated, I get that now. And I love you. Not conventionally, but since when do we do anything the conventional way?”

Sherlock smiles slightly, but says nothing, so John continues, “I was always looking for someone who’d stick with me, someone to spend my life with. Well, you’re it for me, Sherlock, and if that’s a problem for you, you’d better tell me right now, because otherwise, you’re stuck with me for good.”

“Not a problem,” Sherlock says, and there’s an expression on his face John has never seen before. Soft and gentle and hopeful. “You’re it for me as well.” He pauses. “And - I love you too. In case that was in any way unclear.”

John smiles, overcome with relief. “So that’s a yes, then? To the whole marriage, adopt the Gremlin, stay with me forever thing?”

“Yes,” Sherlock says, brushing a soft kiss over their joined hands. “That’s a yes.”

I think I never wrote Ace Sherlock/heterosexual John before, but there's a first time for everything. Fluff of the tooth-rotting variety here, sorry for the sappiness two days in a row.

Thanks for keeping us going with the challenges, @calaisreno!

Tagging a few people again: @keirgreeneyes @helloliriels @jrow @meetinginsamarra @catlock-holmes @khorazir @lisbeth-kk @thetimemoves @topsyturvy-turtely @fluffbyday-smutbynight @7-percent @the-reading-lemon and anyone else who wants to play!

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #my fic #johnlock fic #may prompts #family #tooth rotting fluff #ace Sherlock #heterosexual John #queerplatonic relationship #parentlock #slight John whump

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destieltropecollection · 7 days

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 30: Whump

Agape | @tami-ryver Rating: Mature Word Count: 2,421 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt Dean Winchester, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Torture, Tortured Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin (Supernatural), Blood and Injury, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Protective Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel Saves Dean Winchester, Castiel's Angelic Grace (Supernatural), First Kiss, Dean Winchester Swears, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Angel Wings, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond Summary: Cas, I don't know if you can hear me, I need your help. I got myself kidnapped by a demon; you told me to pray in case something like this happened, so, please, help me! With his eyes closed, Dean doesn't see the way the demon starts leaving his old vessel and starts drifting toward him. Only when the smell of sulfur fills his nose, his eyes open quickly and he sees the black mass of the demon right in front of him, he sobs. Then a bright light fills the room.

The Confessions of Buried Bones | @Joysprings-a03 Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,120 Main Tags/Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injured!Dean Winchester, Protective! Castiel, Hunt Gone Wrong, Curses, Blood and Injury, Worried!Sam, Worried!Castiel BAMF!Castiel, Trapped, Love Confessions, Case fic, Summary: On a case gone wrong, Dean is seriously injured while Cas is running low on grace. The two are trapped together and running out of time. Things come to light, feelings and desperation take place. ********** The cave rumbled again and a few loose rocks fell, which only served to raise Dean’s hackles even more. They’d definitely missed something. “There’s a catch to the curse! After it’s broken, the place it was protecting starts to self-destruct! You have to get out of there now!” Suddenly crystal clear, Sam’s words came through his phone just as the mouth of the cave popped into view. Time slowed, and Dean’s stomach plummeted as he realized what was happening. “Run!”

Take Enough Soul | @envydean Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9,450 Main Tags/Warnings: Demon!Dean/Human!Cas, Alternate Universe, summoning demons, Selling of Souls, Angst, Hurt/very little comfort, cock bulging, Bottom!Cas, slight body horror, Ambiguously Happy Ending, temporary major character death, rape/non-con Summary: Dean is summoned to an old cabin in the middle of the woods by a man who has lost his brother. After making sure Castiel's soul is worth the bargain, Dean goes in search of Castiel's brother only to find that he's not on Earth, but in Hell. Unfortunately for Castiel, deals are addictive and once he's made one, he finds he has Dean wrapped around his finger.

Entirely Unacceptable | @samanddean76 Rating: Mature Word Count: 10,794 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Modern Royalty, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Alpha Gabriel, Omega Sam Winchester, Alpha John Winchester, BAMF's, BAMF John Winchester, Rescue, Revenge, Or Justice, First Time, Knotting, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, True Mates, Love, Happy Ending, All The Bad Guys Get Punished, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Kneeling, Past Abuse, Mpreg, Dean Winchester Whump Summary: Alpha Castiel has unexpectedly acquired a very well-trained Omega Dean when he escorted his brother Gabriel to a public auction house. But the Omega he brought home harbors not only secrets, but enemies as well. Will they survive long enough to reach their happy ending? And can they really be true mates if neither is sure that they even believe in such a thing? Love, rescue, and some revenge in a modern-day A/B/O setting.

The Penitent | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 17,832 Main Tags/Warnings: Demon!Dean, post apocalyptic AU, memory loss, temporary MCD (Sam), hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, whump!Dean, top!Castiel/bottom! Dean Summary: Ten years have passed since Demon! Dean murdered his brother Sam and devastated the land. His footprints have become almost untraceable by the angels, who've lost faith in and defeating the one in possession of the Mark of Cain. Everyone except Castiel, who after incessantly searching for a way to save Dean, finds one last hope. He must request something extraordinary from Heaven to heal the mark. block the demon, and recover Dean. Dean must reverse the events, bringing Sam back to life. To do this, he must use the Penitent's Ring, which had once belonged to Cain, and with it, he must defeat the Seven Gifts of the Holy Spirit. Yet is Dean capable of such this? And can Castiel heal the darkness within Dean? This is a dystopian fic, based on canonverse, post 10x20 episode. Dean had lost his memories and he will be slowly recovering them. This will bring a lot of angst, and sad moments but Castiel will be there to comfort him. It's an angsty story with action, romance and a happy ending.

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #whump

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atlas-likes-writing · 4 months

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Febuwhump Day Two: Solitary confinement.

Characters: John Price, Simon "Ghost" Riley

Summary: He's been stuck in there for days. Weeks. Months. He doesn't know. All he knows is that he is not making it out alive.

Word Count: 2,088

Tags: Whump, torture, imprisonment, graphic depictions of violence and injury, death, hallucinations (sort of? if you squint), guns/gun violence, slight gore, mentions of rape (literally one word, nothing graphic or blatant).

Authors note: Day two! Finished this at 11:20 at night lol. Hope you enjoy :)

@febuwhump

Day One | Masterlist

In his eighteen years of life in the military, John Price has seen some serious shit. He has successfully ripped a hole in hundreds of plots against the best interest of the people he strives to take care of. That said, he has also ripped a hole in the lives of the people who happened to stumble across his path; be it a terrorist in the East; a high-ranking officer in the West; or even the people he’s closest to. He’s torn children from parents, brothers from sisters, husbands from wives; and has hardly batted an eye at it. He has remained the stoic, strong, unshakable man he is for nearly two decades.

Or so people think.

Little do they know about the dreams (or rather, the nightmares) that this man runs from. The ghosts of his past constantly haunt him, deepening his eyebags and creating an impenetrable wall between himself and those he loves. Sometimes, they follow him from his subconscious into the living world; a sight that makes the stoic, strong, unshakable man quiver in fear.

The 141 know. Of course they do. The worried glances he gets from the Sergeants and the annoyingly observant gaze of his Lieutenant make that very apparent. They don’t say anything, though; they wouldn’t dare. If they did, they would be hypocrites. All three other members of the 141 have their own nightmares that haunt them. Nonetheless, that does not stop the strange looks Price receives as he walks past them with ever-deepening purple under his eyes.

Price is old. Or, at least, old in military terms. He’s 42, and with his age comes experience and with experience comes maturity and wisdom. He’s dealt with dozens of plots against the people he cares about and has done so quickly, efficiently, and with the power of a man seasoned in his craft.

So, if you take away a man’s power, where does he stand?

Not on his feet, if that’s what you’re considering.

He’s currently crumpled on an uncomfortable cement floor next to claustrophobic cement walls under a suffocating cement ceiling. His wrists are pulled upwards by wrought iron handcuffs that are attached to the wall behind him that dig into his skin and turn his arms into a mixture of blue and purple. His legs are twisted strangely under his body, but Price doesn’t dare shift them to be more comfortable in fear of reopening recent wounds.

John is sure he looks like a mess. He can feel the grease in his hair sticking to his scalp and the swelling on his face that forces his eye to close after so many beatings. He’s been here for, what, days? Weeks? Months? There are no windows in the cramped room, so the passage of time is practically non-existent to the captain. He can only sort-of know when it’s daytime due to his (consistent?) kidnappers entering his prison and forcing bread and water down his throat, only for John to throw it up again after they decide to “interrogate” him again.

Despite the circumstances, John is as stubborn as always. Whenever the grizzled fighting-age men come into the room to try and pull answers out of him, he never speaks. He would rather they kill him than reveal information that could put his section at risk. He only glares and spits until a gnarled hand is clamped over his mouth and he’s punched and kicked in the stomach until the only thing he can spit is blood and broken teeth.

It becomes repetitive. John is left alone for hours, sometimes days at a time, with only the mold on the walls and fleeting amounts of haunted sleep to keep him occupied; the monsters from the shadows slowly creeping closer to him whenever he closes his eyes. Then the kidnappers - which he assumes are Russian due to their thick accents – come in, shove food down his throat then beat him before leaving him crumpled and in more pain than he was before.

He’s been through worse. The thought of such is what keeps his wits in order. He’s been shot, stabbed, beaten, raped, waterboarded, thrown off buildings, and every other horrific thing under the sun. That’s what comes with eighteen years of service in Special Forces; a metric shit-ton of mental and physical scars. Despite it all, the thought of his boys – Simon and John and Gaz – safe and looking for him keeps the monsters in the corners of the room and makes them stay in the corners of the room.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but if he were to guess by the number of times he’s been fed, he’d say it’s been a month – maybe two, because they haven’t exactly been giving him food consistently. A starving prisoner is better than a dead prisoner, after all.

He’s taken up the habit of tracing the edges of the rickety iron door with his eyes. Round and round his pupils' flick as he attempts to keep his mind occupied. It’s on the sixty-seventh round where the door opens and John’s eyes snap to the ground, not wanting to willingly give his captors the privilege of looking into his eyes. He expects his head will be yanked forcefully backwards by his hair and borderline waterboarded when given his daily (?) glass of water. That doesn’t happen. Instead, the sound of struggling and the thud of something human falling on the cement ground reaches his ears. John doesn’t look up despite his curiosity. He just hopes and prays that it isn’t anyone he knows.

Well, I suppose God is on vacation, as his prayers are clearly not answered.

“Do you know this man?” one of the captors asks. John doesn’t look up. Angry, the same man stomps over to him and grips him by the hair and yanks his head upwards. Price attempts to turn his head, but his jaw is grabbed roughly and turned so he’s forced to get a good look at the newcomer.

The man has been stripped of any combat gear he may have worn previously. He’s left in his cargos and a ripped black shirt that clings to him as if he had just been thrown into water. A concerning splotch of something spreads into the shirt around his lower torso, which Price quickly deduces is blood. He’s held down by three other kidnappers, spitting and swearing at the men above him as he tries to escape from them practically sitting on him to keep him still. Limbs are pinned to the ground and knees are shoved into his back as the man’s eyes flick between the men in the room to Price’s own; back and forth as realisation hits him like a truck.

The kidnapper who spoke previously now leans closer into Price’s ears, his voice spitting venom as he talks. “I will ask you a second time. Do you know this man?”

Of course he does. He’s one of his most trusted confidants. One of the three men that has been with him through thick and thin and probably knows Price better than he does.

They can’t know that, though. John would rather cut his own tongue off than reveal that information. He stares at the man, blue eyes meeting brown as the newcomer fails to grapple with the men above him. The feeling of his hair being pulled out snaps Price out of his train of thought and he shakes his head. No, he doesn’t know him.

“I can’t hear you,” the abductor states gruffly, his Slavic accent stabbing Price’s skin like daggers. He’s punched in the stomach and pulled back against the wall when he doubles over in pain.

“No. I don’t know who that is.” His voice is hoarse - broken after months of disuse. A look of betrayal, followed by a look of understanding flashes over the face of the man opposite him. If we are to live, we need to pretend we don’t know each other.

“He speaks!” The man that holds Price laughs and releases him, letting his head drop for a moment. “Is that so? How interesting. Let’s jog your memory, hm?” he steps over to Price’s singular ally in the room and gestures at one of the men that holds him. Something is passed between them, then that same something is thrown at him. It lands on his chest then falls onto the floor. John knows what it is, but he forces his face to remain neutral as he stares at it. He stays like that for a while before he glares into the eyes of the man standing above him.

He nods his head in the direction of Simon’s mask. He winces as he does so, the movement causing his muscles to scream out in pain. “I don’t know what that is, nor do I know who that man is. Let him go, you bastard,” he spits. The kidnapper laughs.

“Do you really believe you’re in the right position to give orders?” he asks, snickering. “Maybe you need some more persuasion.” He waves his hand and Simon is pulled up to his knees, facing Price. One captor holds his left arm, the other his right, and the final grips his shoulders tightly.

“Get a good look at him. Maybe all this time has made you forget things, old man. Are you sure you don’t recognise him?” Simon is pushed forwards and to the ground, his head smacking against the ground only a few feet away from Price’s knees. John shakes his head.

“What a shame. I suppose he has no use to me then,” the man continues dismissively, reaching a hand into his holster and pulling out a pistol, shoving it roughly against Simon’s temple.

“NO!”

The captor grins a wolfish smile. “No? Why not? If you don’t know him, there is no need to keep him alive,” he replies calmly, cocking his pistol back. Price looks at Simon desperately and the man simply shakes his head. He has always been difficult to read, both with the mask on and off. Now is one of the times where he can just open his brain and see what he’s thinking. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the pistol-wielding man slowly start to squeeze the trigger. His eyes continue to lock with Simon’s, but then the main kidnapper speaks again.

“Hmm, how about this?” It’s then when the same pistol that was pushed against Simon’s head seconds ago is shoved against Price’s own. “What about you? Do you know who he is? He’s getting boring. Tell me or I’ll shoot his brains out.” Simon’s eyes widen fractionally as he’s thrust into the exact position Price was in moments ago. They continue to lock their eyes, and this time it’s John’s turn to shake his head slightly.

“I don’t know who he-” the pistol is struck against Simon’s jaw, causing his head to whip back and the men holding him to struggle to keep him up.

“Пиздец (Damn it). Why does everyone keep saying that? I know you know each other, but you’re making me consider shooting you both to be done with your bullshit. Pull him closer.” He gestures to the three men holding Simon to bring him closer to Price’s face. “Now, what you’re going to do is look at each for a long time. Think about your friendship; the amount of time you’ve known each other. Acknowledge that, then acknowledge that if you do not tell me what I want to know, I will kill one of you.”

If Price was in any other situation, he would have laughed. He did so happen to be a victim of the circumstance, so he didn’t laugh. He simply looked at the man in front of him. His eyes met Simon’s unsteady and slightly dazed eyes and the two seemed to come to an agreement. An agreement that they would not tell the men around him anything about their, work, their comrades, or anything about their work.

“Very well.”

The last thing that Price hears is the sound of a trigger being pulled, followed by the scream of Simon. The last thing that Price feels is regret and fear for his Lieutenant, as well as the hope that he may survive and live on after this. He simply hopes that the men who took them have the compassion to throw his body away and not leave him in there, festering, in the same room as Ghost.

#cod #cod mwii #cod mwiii #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #call of duty #call of duty modern wardare 3 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #john price #simon riley #tw torture #tw injury #tw violence #tw guns #tw death #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump

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tagsecretsanta · 5 months

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From @alexthefly

From @alexthefly to @gaviiadastra

FUN AND GAMES NIGHT

The prompts:

A Tracy Island games night;

Something’s cooking in the kitchen;

Put the mess in domestic.

Rating: teen

Content warnings:

Moderate whump (fracture, soft tissue injuries);

Alcohol throughout (no drunkenness);

Flirting, including innuendo and one sex mention;

One instance of swearing.

Other warnings: a bit of Pen & Ink included in this one; hope that's ok.

**********

A familiar combination of thrusters, VTOL and a slightly-delayed sonic boom signalled Thunderbird One's return to the island. Gordon immediately felt his heart-rate leap a hundred beats.

“They’re here! Action stations! Alan, fluff the cushions; Virgil, get the food; Kayo…”

Whatever task Gordon had been about to assign to her fizzled away in a blaze of epic side-eye.

“...just kick back and relax, ok? No biggie.”

He backed away a few steps just to be safe, but his sister seemed satisfied, pointedly putting her feet back up on the coffee table before returning to her romance book.

Any other day the temptation to comment on her choice of reading material would be far too much to bear, however hazardous to his health such a comment might be, but today he had other things occupying his mind.

“What can I do?” asked John, making to get up just as Virgil - already on his feet - pushed him firmly back down onto the sofa.

“You can stay right there, Mister,” he said, voice full-medic stern. “You know the rules. First night down from Five means no unnecessary moving around.”

John rolled his eyes and muttered something in Russian, but thankfully stayed where he was.

Gordon flashed the big man a grateful smile on his way past to the kitchen. The last thing he needed right now was a certified space-case causing a danger to himself and others.

Not tonight.

“Shall I get some tunes ready?” Alan had already pulled his tablet out from behind a pillow and started tapping. “I’ve got a great playlist I’ve been working o-”

“Is it video game music?” asked Kayo, not even looking up.

“Yeah?”

“No!” The chorus was unanimous.

“Aww, but it’s not like normal video games. It’s this really cool mix of techno and-”

“NO!”

Alan pouted. “Oh, so I guess you'd all rather listen to Fish-boy’s sea shanties and Europop?”

“Hey!”

Gordon was all ready to defend his frankly impeccable musical taste, but John was clearly not in a mood for bickering.

“EOS, could you put on playlist P3 please?”

“Of course John.”

And with that the room was filled with gentle contemporary music - upbeat but not too raucous, neither intrusive nor dull - ideal for an evening with company. Obviously it was no Wellerman, but it wasn’t half bad.

“Would you like some ambient lighting as well?”

“Not right now, thankyou EOS” replied John, ruffling Alan’s hair as he sat back down with a huff. “Is everything okay up there? Any calls? I could dial in if you need me?”

“Absolutely not,” said Kayo, an edge of menace in her voice. “You’re staying right where you are. Grandma’s orders.”

John scowled.

“Really John, there’s no need,” continued EOS. “I’m perfectly capable of handling things for one evening.”

Gordon noted the slight drop of his big brother’s shoulders but decided not to tug on that thread just now. Gravity always did a number on John the first night down, and it had been known to make him grumpy and homesick.

Virgil wandered back in carrying a big bucket filled with ice water, bottles of beer, prosecco, and cans of soda. With every step another puddle of ice water sloshed over the side and onto the floor.

“Allie, get a cloth would you? And could someone get some glasses out please? I’m kinda weighed down here.”

Kayo and Alan each grabbed one of John’s shoulders, using them to both pin him down and haul themselves up. The older man started to object, but was distracted by a ping on Alan’s tablet beside him.

“Scott’s on his way up now.”

Oh god oh god oh god.

Gordon had the sudden and inexplicable urge to dunk his head in the bucket Virgil had just set down, but instead decided to busy himself with robustly re-plumping the chair pillows while bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

“So everything’s ready, right? Place is tidy, drinks are out, games are stacked, food’s in hand… Are we all set? Should I open a window? It’s kinda hot in here.” Am I sweating? “Maybe I should go change-”

“Breathe Gordon.” soothed Virgil, resting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The weight of it felt good. Calming. “This isn’t a state dinner; just a normal games night like we’ve done a thousand times before. Nothing to get worked up about.”

Gordon scoffed. “Except it’s not though, is it? ‘Cos those other times it was just us, not-”

There was a ding and the elevator doors slid open.

“Right through here Lady Penelope.” Scott Tracy, suave as always, smoothly waved their guest into the room. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable and we’ll get started.”

“Thankyou Scott. And sorry again that you had to come and collect me…”

And there she was. Penelope.

Perfection personified. The epitome of class and grace. A beautiful angel with a heart of gold and a spine of steel, whose voice was a song and whose smile could reduce whole armies to-

“Gordon, what on earth are you doing to that cushion?”

Huh?

He looked down at his hands to see the pillow he’d been fluffing, now scrunched and twisted over and over as if he were trying to throttle the poor thing. As he stared down trying to compute the mess of fabric and stuffing it suddenly disappeared from his hands, and then something was shoving him in the back, causing him to stumble forwards over his own feet. He recovered just in time to spot Virgil throwing the battered scatter cushion back behind the sofa, grinning from ear to ear.

Oh, there will be vengeance…

Right now though she was looking at him and oh god he needed to say something.

“Uh…”

Quick as you like, Tracy.

“Er…” His throat made a strange sort of rasping sound.

Any words will do!

“Lady Penelope!” he squeaked. “Welcome in! Come here! I mean come in. Welcome here. You’re welcome here. To our home I mean. This home. Where we…”

He glanced over and caught sight of Kayo, face in hand, shaking her head behind the temporary bar they’d set up for the evening.

“Drink!” he exclaimed, just a little too loudly. “Can I… Would you like a drink?”

The small, knowing smile she gave him was all at once thrilling and completely mortifying; a glorious little needle of light straight through his poor, mortal little heart.

“That would be wonderful. Thankyou Gordon.”

Cheeks burning, he slumped off to the bar and a consolatory shoulder nudge from Kayo while Scott showed Penelope to the seating area. Virgil scooted around them and disappeared back down to the kitchen, throwing him a sympathetic look on the way.

After getting their guest settled, Scott casually folded himself down on the sofa next to her. “So how come Parker didn’t join us tonight? He was more than welcome.”

Gordon loudly shovelled a scoopful of ice into a long glass and then reached for the schnapps.

Stupid Never-flustered Always-has-the-right-words Scott Tracy…

“He wasn’t feeling too good I’m afraid. He said something about Lilian’s casserole disagreeing with him, but to be honest I suspect it was probably more to do with the FA cup final showing on BBC.”

Cranberry, orange wedge…

Kayo cleared her throat softly. “So what drink was it you wanted, Lady Penelope?”

Gordon’s brain short-circuited, vodka in hand.

What.. drink?

He replayed the conversation - such as it had been - through again in his head.

…Dammit, he forgot to ask! He’d been so flummoxed he’d ended up mixing on autopilot.

“Oh, anything really. Whatever you’re all having.” Penelope looked over curiously. “What’s that you have there, Gordon?”

Aww hell.

“It’s a… umm… Sex on the Beach.”

Now it was John’s turn to facepalm while Alan snickered from behind his tablet. Even Scott snorted before passing it off with a hasty clear of the throat.

Lady Penelope, however, held Gordon’s gaze, expression inscrutable, then ever so slowly arched one perfectly coiffured eyebrow.

“Well, that sounds interesting. But perhaps just some wine for now and we’ll see how we get on.”

There was a squeak beside him, and Kayo ducked down behind the bar giggling. Alan snort-coughed and had to be hit on the back by John, who was at least trying - somewhat painfully - to keep a straight face. Scott just grinned at him.

Gordon stood there, stunned into inertia, though he wasn’t quite sure if it was his own mortification holding him back or the slight hint of mischief in Penelope’s eye, almost as if…

Nope, he was definitely imagining it.

Scott looked from one to the other for a moment then, chuckling to himself, jumped to his feet and strode over to the bar.

“C’mon Fish,” he said quietly, grabbing a champagne flute off the bar top and flashing his best, most reassuring, big brother smile. “Let’s go choose a game and get this thing started.”

Gordon nodded, dumbfounded. He grabbed his ridiculous but perfectly mixed drink, complete with little novelty umbrella, and trudged over to the seating area.

Alan was already giving the assembled group a run-down of the various choices lined up for the evening. “We’ve got all your classics like backgammon, chess, battleships, guess who…”

“Those are all for two people, Allie,” said Scott, grabbing himself a beer and pouring Penelope her wine. “How about something we can all play?”

“Clue then?”

“That needs six. We’ve got seven.”

“I don’t mind sitting out the first round if you need me to,” Penelope said gently, accepting her drink.

“Not a chance,” said John firmly. “You’re our guest.”

Alan looked around, confused. “Wait, who’s the seventh?”

Kayo passed him a soda from the bucket.

“Uh, Virgil(?)”

“Oh yeah.”

““Oh yeah” he says,” came Virgil’s voice over the ‘comms. “How soon I’m forgotten(!)”

“Sorry Virg!” Alan slurped his soda loudly, earning him a frown from both Scott and Gordon. “Guess I’m just too hungry to think. Where’s the food at?”

“It’s coming. Just waiting for the vol-au-vents to puff up.”

Alan nearly spat out his soda.

“Vol-au-vents?! What happened to our wings and chi- Oww!”

A pillow flew across the room and caught Alan right upside the head. He got back up and glared at Gordon, who was already gearing up for another throw.

“Whatcha do that for?”

Penelope looked from one to the other, realisation dawning.

“I do hope you didn’t go to any trouble, Virgil. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not at all. Really, it’s all in hand. I’ll be up in a few.”

And with that the comms blinked off.

John swayed forward in his seat. “Y’know, I might go give him a hand…”

“Sit down, John!” ordered Scott, clearly done with them all by this point.

John remained there for a second, possibly weighing up the odds of making a run for it, then sat back down, arms folded definitely-not-at-all petulantly.

“...Fine.”

“What about Monopoly?” suggested Penelope, clearly trying to change the subject. “That can have up to eight players.”

Kayo shook her head.

“Can’t.”

“Oh?”

“We’ve been banned,” Alan piped up. “Grandma said so.”

A pause. “...I see.”

“Well that doesn’t matter, does it?” urged Gordon, keen to get everyone playing before the whole evening went up in smoke. “Grandma can’t stop us from all the way in Gran Roca.”

“You sure about that, Gords?” asked Kayo, eyebrow raised.

He laughed nervously. “Heh…”

“In any case,” interjected Scott, “did you forget why Grandma banned it?”

“...Good point.”

The Great Tracy Anti-capitalist Revolution of 2056. In Gordon’s defence Scott had started it, buying up all those hotels like a dragon hoarding gold…

Alan held up a bunch of VR headsets. “How about something more modern? I’ve got Samurai Slasher, Twilight Ridge, Malibu Steade’s Epic Quest…?”

Scott frowned. “Not on John's first night down, Squirt.”

“Oh yeah. Gotcha.”

Gordon nodded. Way too much potential for injury.

“Ugh!” John threw his hands in the air. “You guys are like a flock of mother hens. I’m fine! Look…” He rolled to his feet before anybody could tell him not to. “Nice and steady. No wobbles, no stumbles. Nothing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to the bathroom.”

“Uh, Johnny…”

“John darling...”

“Nope, I’m not listening,” he barked, striding purposely out of the seating area towards the stairwell, “Comfort breaks are necessary, so I don't care what you s-”

“John!”

“Food’s here!”

“Look out!”

There was an “oof” and a crash as spaceman, heavy-lifter and a platter of freshly-made vol-au-vents collided in a mess of limbs and pastry before tumbling out of sight down the kitchen stairs.

“John!”

“Virgil!”

Everyone was on their feet as a series of thuds, grunts, clatters and clangs echoed from the stairway, followed by one very plaintive “Oww.”

The place immediately erupted into total uproar. Ever the level head, Kayo immediately ran to get the first aid kit and the medi-scanner. Meanwhile Scott - always the quickest to leap into action - practically flew down the stairs after the pair of them in a frenzy of big brotherly concern, with Alan, Gordon and Penelope following closely behind.

The two fallers themselves were actually relatively uninjured in the circumstances. Both were a mess of bruises and grazes and smooshed pastry, but at least they were fully conscious and coherent enough to be thoroughly embarrassed by the whole thing. John had twisted his ankle and had a walnut-sized bump on his forehead, and Virgil (who had slid most of the way down the steps backwards) ended up with a bruised tailbone, strained shoulder and one broken finger.

The kitchen, unfortunately, hadn’t fared quite so well. Total disaster was the most accurate description.

Best they could figure, the metal serving platter Virgil had been carrying had reached the ground floor airborne, bounced off the doorframe and had landed right in the middle of the countertop, sending plates, bowls, jars and spoons scattering and smashing all over the place. The situation wasn’t helped any when MAX, having heard the commotion, came speeding into the kitchen brandishing a mop and broom, skidded on a stray patch of vol-au-vent filling, slammed into the fridge and sent ice cubes from the dispenser shooting across the floor, then got confused and started spinning on the spot, taking out the stand mixer and two cupboard doors in the process.

Eventually they managed to get things back on a somewhat even keel. After a thorough checking over and an even more thorough mothering from Big Bro, both casualties were helped to their feet and safely installed back on the sofas with strict instructions not. To. Move.

Penelope kept herself busy fetching drinks and ice packs for the patients and generally trying to soothe frayed nerves while Gordon, Alan and Kayo set to work fixing the kitchen back up, but after twenty minutes Scott - aware of the time and the presence of their guest - called everyone back to try to enjoy what was left of the evening.

And so instead of vol-au-vents, chips and dips were retrieved from various stashes in various rooms, drinks were replenished (non-alcoholic for the two injured parties, eliciting low grumbles from one and shrug of “stupid gravity” from the other) and in lieu of further disagreements a couple of packs of cards was produced.

The rest of the evening was spent enjoying rounds of Go Fish, rummy, and playing poker for bottle caps, with plenty of jokes, stories and good conversation enjoyed in-between. Towards the end of the night - and to Gordon’s delight - Penelope even taught them a game from her university days called Shithead.

Finally, after most of the others had said their goodnights and wandered off to their rooms, Gordon and Penelope sat side-by-side on the sofa finishing their drinks alone, save for Alan who was snoring softly on the floor beside them.

Penelope swirled the last of her drink with her straw. “Do you think we should move him? That doesn’t look very comfortable…”

Gordon shrugged. “Nah, that’s how he normally sleeps. It’s a teenager thing,” he added, chewing on his orange slice garnish.

Penelope beamed. “I really have had a lovely time tonight. It’s been the most terrific fun, injuries notwithstanding of course.”

Her eyes seemed to sparkle in the warm mood lighting that EOS had finally persuaded John to put on an hour or so earlier.

“And this drink of yours really is delicious by the way.”

Gordon laughed.

“See? I knew you’d like it. Maybe one day I’ll open up a bar of my own right on the beach and serve them out of coconut shells.”

He removed the little paper umbrella from his glass and started opening and closing it like he was in a tiny Hollywood musical.

She laughed. “Well if tonight’s anything to go by, any bar of yours would never be dull!”

Gordon grinned and presented the tiny decoration to her with a flourish, all hint of his earlier embarrassment gone. He was here, she was here, and it was all just… right.

She accepted it with a smile.

Really though Gordon, it’s been the most wonderful night.”

There was a pause while she twirled the umbrella in her hand thoughtfully.

“You know, it’s not always easy to relax around other people, especially in my line of work.” She sighed. “So many functions, so many people, but it can all sometimes feel just a little bit…”

She shook her head.

“I’m not making any sense. It’s just that being here with you all, everything feels so… easy; so fun.”

Gordon leaned forwards, willing her to go on. It was like a wall somewhere was shifting, and he could finally catch a small glimpse of what was actually going on behind that perfect smile of hers.

She looked up at him, eyes shining.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is, thankyou so much for inviting me.”

A breath. A moment that seemed to stretch out between them, soft and fragile.

“Thankyou for coming.”

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

The next morning, as Penny yawned and stretched out in the extra-soft, gloriously comfortable guest bed, luxuriating in the distinct novelty of waking up with nowhere particular she needed to be, her eye fell on the little yellow umbrella laying, just as she'd left it, on top of the nightstand beside her.

She smiled, her stomach fluttering.

So fun…

From downstairs there was a sudden commotion and a voice:

“WHAT IN GOD’S NAME HAVE YOU KIDS DONE TO MY KITCHEN?!”

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction

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gazs-blue-hat · 11 months

Text

Gaz’s Blue Hat Masterlists and introduction! (Please Read Me!)

Hello! I’m Val, or “the hat”. I love the CoD universe and have watched play throughs of most of the games. At the moment, I’m only writing for 141 and possibly other main characters throughout the story.

If you do not have your age in your bio, you’re getting blocked. I’m sorry but this is an 18+ blog. I don’t feel comfortable with minors interacting with my things.

Another thing. I will write rough topics. I’ve struggled with Suicide, Self Harm, Sexual Abuse, Addiction and many other vices. I feel like there (rightfully) is a lot of hesitation to write these topics. However, I find comfort in stories. Of course I’ll put trigger warnings on every piece I do, but I want to let you know that you’re seen and you’re heard. Final thing and I'll stop my rambling, I promise. I won't tolerate hate here. I do my best to stay educated on things and thus, this is a safe place for people to ask questions and learn about things they might not know about. Be kind folks.

Key:

💖-Fluff

🪄 -Silly

🩸-Whump

☠️-Angst

❤️‍🔥-Smut

Series

-Fair Winds and Following Seas- Simon Riley x Reader (Tempest)

Read on Ao3: Here!

Chapter 1: Pilot

Chapter 2: The Winding Road of Introductions

Chapter 3: The Calm Before the Storm

Chapter 4: Speed of Sound (Wip)

Glacial Tides- King!Johnny MacTavish X Siren!Reader

Masterlist Found Here!

--------------------------------------- Small Town UA- Hiatus

-Sunflowers and Shotguns (Small Town UA)- Soap x Reader (Lamb) 💖🩸

Welcome

Southern Hospitality

Around the Fences

Air Pressure

Tornado Sirens (Wip)

Toxemia (wip)

-Injections and Ivermectin (Small Town UA)- Ghost X Reader (Tens)💖

Moos Malady

Like Little Railroads

Riley and Riley (Wip)

Concussion (Wip)

CPR (Wip)

Fireplace (Wip)

-Books and Bombshells (Small Town UA)- Gaz x Reader (Keys)

Books Bring Us Together

WPM (Wip)

Dewy Decimal System (Wip)

Movie night (Wip)

Kickstarter (Wip)

Dog-earing (Wip)

-Waves and Warfare (Small Town UA)- Price X Reader (Skip)

Captain to Captain

Come a little closer (Wip)

Kate Kate Kate (Wip)

High Seas (Wip)

Depth Charge (Wip)

Songs of the Deep (Wip)

-TF141 and the WSM- (Small town UA blurbs)

Wear the hat, ride the cowboy 🪄

Beware the Wave Soaked Maidens (Wip)

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

Dungeons and Dragons AU (All characters have three parts)

Seeing isn’t everything (Kyle “Gaz” Garrick X F!Reader) (Medusa)

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Songs across Seafoam (Johnny “Soap” MacTavish X F!Reader) (Siren) (Wip) 💖🩸❤️‍🔥

Pt. 1

Pt. 2

Pt. 3

Shapes in the Mists (Simon “Ghost” Riley X F!Reader) (Changeling) (Wip) 💖☠️❤️‍🔥

Pt.1

Pt.2

Pt.3

Curls of Smoke and Embers (Captain John Price X F!Reader) (Dragon) (Wip) 💖☠️🩸❤️‍🔥

Pt.1

Pt.2

Pt.3

--------------------------------------- One Shots

Captain John Price

Left Behind ( Wip) 💖🩸

Yours to command ❤️‍🔥

Wedding ring (blurb)❤️‍🔥

Cherry stem (blurb) mild❤️‍🔥

Bad day (blurb) 💖

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Potent Poisons and Precious Passions (Fem!Reader) 💖❤️‍🔥

Loving Something So Broken (Gn!Reader)☠️💖

Forged in Blood, Bonded by Steel (wip) 💖❤️‍🔥

Hearts Do Mend ☠️💖 (Slight❤️‍🔥)

Cherry Stem (blurb) mild❤️‍🔥

Tags (Blurb) ❤️‍🔥

Bad day (Blurb) 💖

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

Whispers in the Night (Wip) 💖❤️‍🔥

Domestic Bliss (wip) ❤️‍🔥💖

Cherry Stem (blurb) mild❤️‍🔥

Desperate (Blurb) ❤️‍🔥

Bad Day (Blurb) 💖

Talking you Through it (Blurb) (Capt. MacTavish) ❤️‍🔥

Headboard (Blurb) (Capt. MacTavish) ❤️‍🔥

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Passing Notes 💖

Cherry Stem (blurb) mild❤️‍🔥

Natural Remedy (Blurb) ❤️‍🔥

Bad Day (Blurb)

Paperwork Shmaperwork 💖

Alex Keller

K.I.A to C.I.A (Wip)💖❤️‍🔥

Konig

Love on the Battlefield (WIP)💖❤️‍🔥

Keegan P. Russ

Rupert’s Drop (WIP) 💀🩸

No Nut November (Blurb) ❤️‍🔥

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

Blurbs

No Pairings, just brainrot

What really happened at the end of MWIII

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

🩸Whumptober🩸

Intro (Please Read)

Character taking care of Reader Whumptober list

Reader taking care of Character Whumptober list

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

Reblogged Masterlists

These will be complete lists of everything I have ever reblogged about these characters. I don't like the Tumblr Tagging system to look through my stuff so I made my own list like this. I'll be going backwards from present day to the very start of this blog (June)

(11/5/2023 update): I'm working hard on linking and sorting everything I have reblogged. I have organized up to October. Everything that has yet to be linked will have the tag 'To Be Linked' on it. Feel free to rummage through the bins while I get my books on a shelf. Thank you for your support!

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

John Price

All Others /Multiple

#masterlist

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celosiaa · 1 year

Text

a rough landing

an old wound resurfaces. for the both of them.

(first Malevolent fic!! for the whump bingo prompt, "a helpless look right before they collapse." for context, this is post-canon, Arthur is blind, and John has his own body.) cw physical injury and panic attack

“Arthur, he’s running!”

“Fuck!”

This was most assuredly not how John had envisioned this investigation, not by a long shot. The thief wasn’t supposed to be here at all. The fool. They had thought he was smarter than to turn up at his former place of business. Apparently, they had been giving him far too much credit.

“This way, follow my voice!”

“Right behind you!”

Gun drawn, John charges down the length of the warehouse, coattails flying, the whole of him reveling in the chase. He’ll never get over this—this feeling of freedom, the wind in his hair, the power of his heart—his heart—working as fast as it must to keep him moving.

It is truly, truly beautiful to be human.

He cannot help the hint of a smile in his voice as he calls back to Arthur, warning him of obstacles and giving him a sound to guide him as they run.

“We’re gaining on him! I’m going to—speed up. Slight left. Follow me.”

His legs begin to burn, his side cramping as he bursts forward with new speed—the figure before him becoming larger, and larger, until—

“I’ve got him!”

John leaps forward and brings their target down with him, quickly moving to restrain him as he struggles to fight John’s rather imposing frame off. He will not succeed, that much John knows.

He cannot help the chuckle of breathless elation that bursts from him as he twists the man’s arms behind his back, reaching into his coat pocket for handcuffs.

“Arthur, you want the honors?”

But when he glances behind him, Arthur is nowhere to be seen.

“Arthur?”

The sound of pained, ragged breaths echoing further behind sets a lightning bolt through John’s heart.

Fuck.

“Arthur, talk to me,” he shouts, handcuffing the man beneath him as quickly as he can with hands both sweating and shaking. “Arthur!”

Nothing. Just that breathing, too fast too hard too painful—

Fuck. Fucking hell.

With a growl of frustration, John at last manages to secure the target, and turns at once back toward the gasping sounds of his partner.

“Arthur! Where—“

Eyes scanning quickly across the large room, John’s eyes at last land upon a shuddering figure, leaning heavily against a large wooden shipping container, head bowed.

“Arthur!”

Startling at the sound of his voice, Arthur’s head snaps quickly upward to face his general direction. John’s heart leaps in his throat as he sees with increasing clarity the painful heaving of his chest, the pallor of his face—

The tears in his eyes.

“John,” he breathes, helpless—then with a sharp inhale, he turns his sightless eyes to the ceiling, tears running down his cheeks as a whimper escapes him.

Fuck. No no no.

“I’m right here, hold on—“

“Ha—f-fuck—-“ Arthur yelps. Before John can do reach him, do anything at all, his knees buckle beneath him, sending him sprawling onto the concrete.

Sobbing in pain.

“ARTHUR!”

At last reaching his side, John’s hands hover over the length of his body, trembling, unsure of what to do or how or where or calm down stay fucking calm—

“What—happened? Are you hit? Where? Show me where,” he chokes around the lump forming now in his own throat. Calm calm calm—

“My—AH—my leg, FUCK, John—“

He curls up against the pain, shallow breaths gasped through gritted teeth. John could vomit right then and there.

“Hospital. I’m taking you to the hospital, you—“

“N-no, John, it’s—fuck, not—hospital.”

“You’re BLEEDING, you’re hurt, you’re—“

“N-no, John, listen--ha—“

“I AM LISTENING!”

As the panicked shout leaves his lungs, it’s only then that he realizes how hard he’s breathing. Fuck fuck he’s leg’s fucking broken—

“Not—not broken. John, look—look at me. Look at me.”

The feeling of a small hand against his knee—trembling, yes, but steady.

“Not broken, John—can you hear me? What’s going on?”

That voice…

He’s panicking. Fuck me.

“John?”

“Sorry. Right. You’re not bleeding, no. Not bleeding.”

“Good…that’s good, John. Let’s just…take a moment. Both of us.”

Arthur takes the pause to prop up on his elbows from where he lay—and this time, John sees the flash of pain across his face, sees his gaze shift ever so slightly with the pain of it. And he’s there to catch him.

“Okay, alright, just take it easy. Jesus fucking Christ, Arthur.”

“Mmm…help me sit, just need to—“

“There. Okay. Dizzy?”

Arthur sways for only a moment, brushing against the hands John holds out toward him, just in case. “I’m okay now, I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck happened? What’s wrong with your leg?” John asks, cursing himself for how hoarse and shaken his voice sounds.

“Wasn’t ready to…wasn’t ready to run. I didn’t anticipate that and so I didn’t wear my brace.” As he speaks, Arthur rubs at his leg, wincing even with the touch. “Fucking…stupid—“

“Why didn’t you wear it?” John hisses, the anger in his voice surprising both of them. Arthur jumps, eyes wide, alarmed.

“…John?”

“Sorry. Fuck. Nevermind,” he grouses, kicking himself. First he’d run too fast, too far, then panicked rather then helped, now scared him rather than comforted…

Fucking hell. Piece of shit.

“I’m sorry,” he says, intentionally much more quietly. It’s all he really can say, but doesn’t cover the half of it.

“It’s...it’s alright, friend.” Arthur’s soft voice, so gentle, takes the edge off his anxiety at once. “I’m alright. Mostly.”

John sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Right. Okay. We need to get you out of here.”

“And you. Agreed.”

“Arthur,” John begins cautiously, anticipating his response. “Let me carry you on my back.”

To his utter shock, Arthur remains silent rather than spits back some self-righteous indignation—he’s really, truly considering it this time.

And that sends a shiver all the way up and down John’s spine.

“Yes, I—I think that might be best,” he muses, his voice as far away as his gaze.

“You sure?”

“Don’t push it,” Arthur says softly, sharply. “Just—show me where to hold on.”

In, out. Don’t panic.

Breathe.

“Okay,” John breathes, voice gone frustratingly hoarse once again. “Okay. Just hold onto me.”

#malevolent #malevolent fic #hurt/comfort #whump #lmk what you think if you can! i feel nervous lol

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connorwhumpaddict · 1 year

Text

💎✨ MASTERLIST✨💎

[Updated 06.06.23]

06.06.23 Attention: would anyone like me to start/ be added in a tag list? Then please let me know!

If you enjoy my work feel free to message me if you have any request or future prompt ideas. I enjoy doing whump, comfort, smut and any combination of these. I can do angst as well as long as it has a happy ending (The world can be dark enough as it is I refuse to make my writing sad as well).

The only hard no I have is I don’t do HanCon. Not judging anyone who enjoy this pairing, I cab understand the appeal for some, but I see Hank and Connor’s relationship as a father/Son one.

Hope to hear from you!

FICS

"Be my good boy" (18+) (NSFW, reader insert, Soft!Dom f!Reader/Sub!Connor, pure smut) Just an excuse to write some pure Connor appreciation smut. With his sensor sensitivity turned way up and his ability to cum without permission stripped, Connor is at the complete mercy of reader as she edges and teases our favorite android into a moaning, whimpering mess

“A Happy Birthday” (Feel-good-fic, Fluff, Good parent Hank, Father/Son relationship) Hank gets thrown a surprise birthday party at work, but that’s not the only surprise he receives OR The day Connor calls Hank ‘Dad’ for the first time.

"What you deserve" (18+) (NSFW, Smut, Reader insert, Connor/Reader, Fluff) Reader has had a stressful week and relieved to come home for a much needed weekend. You’re however surprised when you come home and is treated to an amazing, romantic evening that all ends up with the most intense and pleasurable night you’ve ever dreamed of!

“A helping hand too many” (Whump, Hurt/comfort, Feel-good-fic) Connor is forced to return to work after a grueling case and gets trapped there helping his various coworkes because he's incapable of saying 'no'. He ends up working till utter exhaustion and collapses.

"A whole new world (without pain)" (Whump, reader insert, Connor/Reader friendship,Hurt/comfort) Connor is wound up and in constant pain from his overused and strained muscles and joints. Reader is a physical/ massage therapist working at the DPD who offers him a massage and is horrified to find him so tense. Reader takes the time and care to bring the poor android some much needed relief.

“Deserving of Pain” chap. [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [Epilogue] (Heavy Whump, Hurt/comfort, Slight romance) Reed uses Connor's heightened ability to feel pain in a twisted plan convince his coworkers that androids aren't a match or equal to humans.

SNIPPETS

“Worried Hank” (Whump, Good (pre)parent Hank Anderson, Worried Hank) A small snippet inspired by a reblog of gifs - enjoy!

“‘Movie’ Night” (18+) (NSFW, Soft!Dom Connor/Male OC, OC John from ‘DoP’ fic, pure smut) Connor wants to watch the movie, John wants to fuck.. Why not both?

ART WORKS

"Keeping her safe" (Scene for chap. 4 'Deserving of pain')

"It Hurts dad" (Whump, Hank/Connor Father/Son relationship)

“Warning: Core temperature rising” (NSFW)

#masterpost #master list #connorwhump #dbh connor #dbh #dbh fandom #whump #androids feel pain #whump writing #whump fic #dbh whump #dbh smut #fluff #angst with fluff #feel good fics #dbh fanart

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inevitably-johnlocked · 2 years

Note

Thank you so much for all your amazing fic recs!! I have an ask - do you know any Johnlock fics where they get off on having people watch them do… things to one another? The longer the better!

Hey Nonny!

Thank you so much for your kind words!!! It means a lot!!!

Nonny, I DO have fics you'll like, and I'll use your ask as a reason to post a Pt 2 list!!

Hope you enjoy what I got for ya! Feel free to add more, my friends, specifically fics that focus on it, rather than as a side thing like my fics are.

VOYEURISM & PUBLIC SEX Pt 2

See also: Accidental Voyeurism & Public Sex

Better Than One by Innerspace (E, 14,760 w || Threesome, Self-cest / Clone Sex, First Time, BJ’s, Power Play, Slight Dub-Con) – Sherlock creates a clone and discovers things about himself and John he never imagined. John is just along for the ride, so to speak.

Kintsugi by distantstarlight (E, 14,772 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Regret / Remorse, Loneliness, Separation, Drug Use, Healing, Protective John, Sad Sherlock, Dev. Rel., Complicated Relationships, Love, Angst With Happy Ending, Sherlock is Called Freak, John’s Penance, Voyeurism, Doctor/Caretaker John, Guilty John, Detox, Fingering, Love Confessions, Cuddling, Slight Non-Con Turns Enthusiastic Consent, Virgin Sherlock) – Sherlock Holmes becomes estranged from the man he had once considered his best friend after John lets him down horribly in public. It seems that the world's only consulting detective will be on his own once again...or will he?

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time, Sort-Of Non-Con Voyeurism) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse by SilentAuror (E, 50,635 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4/S4 Divergence, Case Fic, For a Case / Reverse Fake-Relationship, Conferences, Marriage Equality, Travelling / New York, Pride, Homophobia, Bottomlock, Marriage Proposal, John POV, Sexuality, Love Confessions, Emotional Love Making, Public Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, Passionate Kissing, Needy/Clingy Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Touching / Hand Holding, Bed Sharing, Little Spoon Sherlock, Intense Orgasms) – John and Sherlock go to New York to attend a conference run by the National Defence of Traditional Marriage Coalition in order to investigate the potential bombing of the annual Manhattan Pride parade. As the conference unfolds, John finds himself repulsed by the toxic ideology being presented, which becomes relevent to his own unacknowledged issues and his friendship with Sherlock...

Never Change a Running System by Lorelei_Lee (E, 54,246 w. || Pre-TRF, Romance, Humour, Drama, Sex Toys, Anal, Rimming, Masturbation, Frottage, Blow Jobs, Public Sex, First Kiss / Time, Virgin Sherlock / Loss of Virginity, Accidental Voyeurism, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Experiments, Naive Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Straight With an Exception John, Hand Jobs) – Sherlock discovers his sexuality – with far-reaching consequences for John.

The Thing Is by TSylvestris (E, 56,743 w. || Case Fic, Dev. Rel., Anal/Oral, Blow Jobs, Meddling Mycroft, Drama, Romance, Humour, Casual Encounters, Pining Idiots, Possessive Sherlock, Orgasm Delay, Rough / Alley Sex, Public Sex, John Whump, Drugged John, Emotional Love Making, Awkward Relationship, Marriage of Convenience, Switchlock, BAMF John) – The problem with living with Sherlock, John thought, was that you never, never, ever knew the significance of anything. Like your flatmate's nose buried in your hair. Whilst you're in bed. Part 1 of Nitroglycerine

The Great Sex Olympics of 221B by XistentialAngst (E, 58,611 w. || First Time/Kiss, Experiments / Sexual Experimentations, Multi Pairings, Voyeurism) – John Watson thinks Sherlock Holmes should admit that he, Watson, is more of an expert on sex than Sherlock is. But Sherlock refuses to concede the point. He comes up with an experiment plan that will resolve the issue. The results will determine who wins the prize. But sometimes even the best thought-out scientific study has unexpected consequences.

Being John Watson-ish by elwinglyre (E, 69,902 w., 17 Ch. || Bodysnatcher AU || Author John, Cranky Sherlock, Angst, Sexual Tension, First Kiss / Time, Falling in Love, BAMF John, Past Soldier John, Feelings, Inside Someone’s Brain, Shy Sherlock, Sherlock Loves John, POV Sherlock, Switchlock, Slow Burn, Internal Dialogue, Mental Turmoil) – When consulting detective Sherlock Holmes steps on one toe too many at a crime scene, he's consigned to a desk job in an archaic office on the seventh-and-a-half floor of the New Scotland Yard. It’s in this bleak office that Sherlock discovers a portal into the mind of renowned author John Watson. Grander than his mind palace, this new wonderland affords Sherlock new vistas of experimentation. To learn more about the mystery behind the portal, Sherlock seeks out and befriends Watson. But then it all goes wrong when others find the secret portal door—including the man whose brain he visits.

Two Two One Bravo Baker by abundantlyqueer (E, 114,574 w. || Military AU || Afghanistan, War Story, Thriller) – Captain John Watson of 40 Commando, the Royal Marines, is assigned to protect and assist Sherlock Holmes as he investigates what appears to be a simple war atrocity in Afghanistan. An intense attraction ignites between the two men as they uncover a conspiracy that threatens everything they’ve ever known, but Sherlock is as much hunted as hunter, and everyone close to him is in deadly danger. Can he solve the case in time to save himself and John? Part 1 of Two Two One Bravo Baker Universe

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #voyeurism fics #public sex fics #my fic recs

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whumpismybae · 8 months

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Do you have any recs for a villain being whumped? Maybe by a higher up or by the good guy as leverage? Thx :3

Hey nonny, you're actually my very first Ask I've ever gotten! :)

Uuh, the villains. Love them. I don't know why they always choose the hottest actors to play the bad guys 😅

Just be warned, some might end in character death...

Who came right to my mind is Billy Russo, played by Ben Barnes. He has a hard time throughout the series, getting in fights, especially with the anti hero Frank Castle, ending up beaten, bloody (1x13), and even shot (2x13).

Well, again with the wonderful Ben Barnes, he plays General Kirigan in Shadow and Bone. Very very (very) slight whump, but some small scenes throughout season 1 and 2. And I love some emotional whump, and this man is pretty sad if you tend to emphasise with the bad guys.

Well, this one is probably one of my favourite Whumpees, BUT, he's not particularly a villain. John Murphy from The 100. He starts off as the typical bad guy douchebag, but has the greatest character arc in my opinion and gets through soo much hurt all the seasons! Beaten (a LOT), stabbed (end of season 1, and beginning of s2, 6x01, 6x08), shot (5x13).

You've probably heard of Loki before, but if not, he also starts off as the villain but tends to get more anti hero. He gets beaten by the Avengers/his brother etc, in the Thor series, Avengers 1 and has some slight whump in the Loki series (but here he's getting into the role of the anti-hero).

Another "bad guy who will end anyone who comes in their way or hurts their loved ones" type are Damon and Klaus from the Vampire Diaries. Damon was already more of the bad guy from the very start, but Klaus was more like the villain. Well, he ended up in the "misunderstood bad guy" path aswell.

I hope some of these aren't familiar to you and could help you find what you were looking for. Most of my favourites are more like the anti-hero part with a great redemption arc. So except for Billy Russo and kind of Kirigan and Klaus in the beginning they weren't exactly Villains.

But I hope this helps 🥰 Thank you for your question

#whump #emotional whump #ask #nonny asks #answered #villain #badguy #Murphy #the 100 #shadow and bone #ben barnes #loki

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amyreadsandstresses · 2 years

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AMY'S DAILY FIC REC JUST KEEPS GOING

Here we go, then. Some nice BBC Sherlock fic

*Don't Read the Last Page - Raina_at

4k, 1/1, So Soft, Parentlock, Johnlock, Fluff, Post Season 4, Domestic Bliss

What does it mean to be brave? Or: Sherlock and John spend New Year's Day with a grumpy toddler and have a long overdue conversation.

*Awakenings - Guanin

41k, 12/12, Johnlock, Aroace Sherlock, Queer Platonic Relationship, Watson Family, Mycroft Holmes, Mrs. Hudson

John’s breath shook the collar of Sherlock’s shirt, breath which was pleasantly warm and bathed the skin of Sherlock’s neck and collarbone in a tantalizing way that Sherlock wasn’t sure if he wished to analyze at the moment, yet was doing anyway, because how couldn’t he? It incited a slight tremble in his skin at first, the slightest pricking sensation as his breath shuddered to a stop in his throat at the sudden and unexpected intimacy of it. John’s breath, John’s, brushing against him and Sherlock letting it remain so close as if it belonged there, no more alien to his own body than the clothes he wore. Because it was John’s.

*In Absentia - SeaweedWrites

79k, 39/39, Sherlock Whump, No Slash, SUPER GOOD, Mycroft Holmes, Mrs. Hudson, Greg Lestrade, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Injury, Traumatic Brain Injury, Rehabilitation

Sherlock sends John a mysterious text. We need to talk. 7PM, Baker Street. SH

While John waits for Sherlock to come back to 221B to explain, Sherlock is involved in a terrible car crash, and everyone's lives are irrecoverably changed. Will Sherlock survive?

And the bigger question for John- If he does survive, will he ever be the same?

*Cat Sherlock - tei

3 works, 17k, the last one includes bestiality so you might want to skip it, the first two are hilarious, Cat Sherlock, Shapeshifting, Mary Morstan is cool

Sherlock can turn into a cat at will-- always has done, no point questioning it. When he uses his feline form to stake out an arms dealer, he meets a lonely, bored ex-soldier buying a gun.

*A Weird Place - lurikko

7k, 1/1, Johnlock, Parentlock, First Time, Post Season 4, Getting Together

John is always there. It's weird. It's brilliant.

*(Everything I Do) I Do It For You - Maeerin

21k, 1/1, Johnlock, Major Character Injury, Mycroft Holmes, Hurt/Comfort

Sherlock's Fall goes wrong, and he's left paralyzed. Will he get through this, or will John eventually leave him?

*half-forgotten and steadfast - simplyclockwork

4k, 1/1, Johnlock, Hurt/Comfort, Aphasia, Vulnerable Sherlock

After an accident, Sherlock worries he may never be the same.

*The Long Road - Bumblie_Bee

11k, 1/1, No Slash, Hurt Sherlock, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, Mrs. Huson, Rosie Watson, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort

"That he was cold was the first thing Sherlock noticed when he woke. The second was that he was uncomfortable, laying on something solid which dug into his ribs and spine and pressed into his skull. The third was pain. His head throbbed in time with his heart and a sharp ache radiated from his back. The fourth was that he had no idea where he was."

Sherlock lays alone on the rocks and waits for John to save him. Later he learns that even after rescue, his John might be a lot further away than he had anticipated.

*Magical Rain - oarchangel

3k, 1/1, Cat Sherlock, John Watson, Magical Realism, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

The thing is...rain doesn’t feel like life. Rain feels wet and cold. Rain causes people to seek shelter and when they do, you are reminded that you have none. No shelter. No home. Noone is waiting for you at home. Rain feels…

*Balance - withcry9

12k, 16/16, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Mrs, Hudson, Greg Lestrade, Molly Hooper, Disability, Recovery, Hurt/Comfort

After a kidnapping and poisoning, Sherlock's legs are paralyzed. He's not amused, obviously, and John can't help but feel a little guilty, because his mobility problems went away, and Sherlock's won't. There is also a serial killer, which should be cheery, but doesn't make Sherlock as happy as it should. This concerns John.

*Queening - annabagnell

4k, 1/1, Johnlock, Shapeshifter Sherlock, Mpreg, but in a special way, Sherlock is a cat, ish, it's good promise

“Gestation length for servals is seventy-four days,” Sherlock informed John one morning, tearing into his bacon sandwich.

John’s brow furrowed and he looked up at Sherlock, sipping at his coffee. “Thanks for that tidbit,” he said. “What, are we expecting a litter?”

*My flatmate keeps purring - Ramblesgalore

1k, 1/1, Johnlock, Catlock, Cat/Human Hybrid, Fluff

Or, Four Times John Watson made his half-cat detective purr and one time Sherlock did it all on his own.

*The Secret - Kenizz

2k, 1/1, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Dyslexia, Friendship

Sherlock has a secret nobody knows about, and he is determined to keep it that way. Unfortunately he is not so lucky

*Speak - Liminality (TyndallBlue)

1k, 1/1, SO GOOD, Mute Sherlock, John Watson, Magical Realism

It started with a mirror, then Sherlock woke to realize he could not speak.

*The Lockless Door - ChloeNyme

4k, 1/1, SO GOOD, SO MUCH HURT, PTSD, Mute Sherlock, John Watson, Greg Lestrade, Trauma

The door is open. Sherlock could walk through it, but that would defeat the purpose. The moment he steps beyond that door…others take his place. So instead he closes his eyes and closes his own door. He locks it, barricades it, and seals it until there is nothing left but whispers from beyond.

*Just Like Da - darthsydious

12k, 24/24, Sherlolly, Parent Sherlock, John Watson/Mary Morstan, Rosie Watson, Disbailities, Mycroft Holmes, Family, Hurt/Comfort

What if Sherlock and Molly had a child born with a disability?

*WHISPER TO ME - chrysandthemumsies

20k, 3/3, Johnlock, Parentlock, Rosie Watson, Romance, First Kiss

Sherlock picks up playing the guitar. John falls more and more in love with every passing day.

*I Have Not Lingered - saintscully

8k, 6/6, Johnlock, Post Reichenbach, Missing Scene, Sherlock centric

For two years, Sherlock Holmes chases criminals and risks his life to dismantle Moriarty's web of lies. But in the downtimes, in between one bad guy and another, he reflects on the life he once lived with John Watson.

*Not Quite in his Right Mind - BakerTumblings

23k, 13/13, Johnlock, Mycroft Holmes, Greg Lestrade, Molly Hooper, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Sherlock, Injury Recovery

A complete short story in which Sherlock is injured during a case, John is summoned to the hospital, and neither one copes very well until Sherlock is improving.

#amy's fic rec #bbc sherlock #sherlock bbc #sherlock holmes #johnlock #sherlock fanfic #john watson #sherlock #greg lestarde #mycroft holmes #molly hooper #sherlolly #disabled sherlock #sherlock fic rec #mrs hudson #tjlc #sherlock x molly #mary morstan #rosie watson

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