#so i love team whump especially

[kennahjune]

Trauma bond? No. Bro bond.

Was having Steve and Lucas bro bond thoughts that accidentally turned into Steve whump.

…

Steve and Lucas bonding over sports more than anyone realized they ever would.

Like yeah, everyone knew Steve played basketball and was on the swim team in high school; that was practically his entire personality for a bit. But they never realized how much he actually /liked/ the sports.

Until he was geeking out with Lucas over a new play they’d thought of.

It was odd for them all to see Steve so excited. They watched on from their seats on the front porch steps. Eddie and Jonathan each had a beer, the both of them sharing a blunt with Argyle. Nancy and Robin sat on the steps below them, watching on while Steve and Lucas payed them no mind from the driveway.

It was almost comical— how the moment Lucas showed up on his bike Steve was up in an instant. After confirming it was indeed not a code red, Steve was quick to join Lucas. Especially after being told it was basketball related.

Steve had kicked his own beer over in his haste to get up.

Now Steve and Lucas were in the driveway, the garage door down (to prevent damage to the cars) and the Harrington’s basketball hoop out. Both were blissfully unaware of the eyes following them. Well, the eyes following /Steve/, it was more like.

Circling back the earlier thought; they’d never seen him to engaging in something. So excited. So…happy.

Which was really sad to think about.

“I’ve never seen him so excited over something,” Nancy said, speaking everyone’s thoughts.

Well. Except Argyle’s, it seems. “Nah, man. He gets like this anytime he starts talking about sports. We were watching a soccer game on TV last night and he was like— totally freaking out! Waving his hands around and talking a mile a minute.”

He took a puff of the blunt and passed it to Eddie, unaware of how he just tilted everyone’s worlds.

“Wait—“ Eddie took a drag and his voice was strained while he kept in the smoke “—he actually talks to you about that shit?”

Argyle hummed and looked at Eddie oddly. Eddie blew the smoke out and held Argyle’s eye.

“Yeah dude. All the time. Might help that I played volleyball back in Cali but— really, I just like hearing him talk. And I think he likes talking. He talks a lot.”

Argyle was getting extra talkative now, his sentences becoming shorter and more frequent. That’s how you knew he was high enough to not care.

“He’s never really been that talkative,” mumbled Robin, a sudden kind of dread settling uncomfortably in her chest.

Argyle shrugged. “Maybe you don’t talk about what he likes to talk about. He likes talking about sports. And romance books. He reads a lot of romance books.”

Well isn’t that something, Eddie thought. Steve Harrington likes to read.

(It brought up a distant memory from high school, from Steve’s sophomore year and Eddie’s junior year. Back before “King Steve” meant “jackass”.

“Well well, looky here, fellas! King Steve is gracing us peasants with his presence.” Eddie called mockingly to the young man sitting at the table in the library.

Steve— only 15 at the time, not 16 for another couple of months— looked up from his book with furrowed brows and a pout on his pretty pink lips. A pout that 21 year old Eddie would come to love.

Steve hadn’t done to much in the interaction. He more or less sat in silence while Eddie went on and on about something he couldn’t remember now.

When Steve had gotten up from the table, he doggy-eared his page (like a monster) and tucked the book under his arm. Eddie saw the title only briefly, “Forever Amber”.)

“Do we really never talk about his interests?” asked Jonathan to the sky, his head tilted up while he blew the smoke away.

They all startled when a series of shouts and laughs came from Lucas and Steve in the driveway. Eddie looked over in time to watch Steve pull Lucas in for a hug where they both patted each others backs aggressively. Eddie’s seen the guys do that at games. Some kind of weird bro-hug.

Eddie continued to watch when Steve bent down to pick up the rolling basketball. Eddie’s mind went other places quick enough when Steve pulled his shorts up a little higher. Robin smacked his calf.

“Seriously, you guys never talk to him about sports?” Argyle asked, flabbergasted. And I suppose he had every right to be. These were some of Steve’s closest friends. His boyfriend and his best friend! And they never got to listen to Steve rant about a particular basketball game from high school? About some specific swimming stroke and how it helped him win swim competitions?

They were seriously missing out.

Robin hung her head in shame and thought about it, her eyes misting over the more she realized that— yeah, she never talked to Steve about sports. Let alone his other interests. (Did he have other interests? That fact that she had to ask this question made her want to cry and hug Steve.)

Robin picked her head up and propped it in her hands. She looked on with everyone else as Steve and Lucas cheered about something or other.

.

Steve tossed Lucas the ball in the driveway. He bent himself at the knees and placed his hands on his thighs, breathing heavily.

“Alright, Sinclair. Hit me.” he smirked.

He and Lucas had been tossing the ball back and forth for close to an hour now, both excited to get this play right. Lucas dribbled the ball three times on the ground quickly before he set into motion.

Steve cut him off to the left, but Lucas swerved to the right so fast he nearly toppled himself over. Steve turned and jumped in front of him just in time to body slam him slightly. Not nearly as rough as he could’ve been, holding back because they were outside on concrete and Steve wasn’t going to be responsible for a concussion.

The ball rolled away into the grass, unnoticed while Steve gave Lucas a hand and pulled him up.

Lucas was taking heaving breaths, and for a scary moment Steve was worried he’d slammed him too hard and knocked his lungs around. It’s possible. That’s why Steve himself had an inhaler in the drawer closest to his bed.

But then Lucas was laughing, and soon Steve was to.

“Dude! How’d you do that? I’ve never seen anyone move like that man!” Lucas praised over his heavy breathing. Steve chuckled and took his own deep breaths.

He clapped Lucas on the shoulder, grabbed the ball, and steered him towards the porch. “Plant your feet next time.” He felt a ping of anger and sadness at the words, but tramped it down.

It was only when he’d reached the porch with Lucas that Steve realized they were alone outside. Had everyone gone inside? Did sports seriously bore them so much that they just up and left? The thought made something bitter churn in Steve’s gut.

Whatever.

He led Lucas through the door and dropped the basketball on the porch by the door. It was muddy and his floors were going to remain white for as long as possible thank you very much.

They both left their shoes by the door and traveled to the kitchen, Lucas talking about how fast he’d ducked and wanting to know what Steve meant by planting his feet. Steve agreed to another playing session the next day with a grin. It was nice to have someone who enjoyed what he did.

He tossed Lucas a bottle of water from the fridge and made sure the kid drank it all. They sat with each other at the counter for a minute, Steve idly sipping his water and listening to Lucas’ still heavy breaths.

“Damn, I still can’t catch my breath man.” Lucas laughed lightly.

Steve smiled and set his water down.

“Wait here, don’t do anything stupid.”

Lucas gave him a two finger salute as he walked off upstairs. Steve was sure to avoid the living room and was quick to grab the aforementioned inhaler from his drawer. He jogged back into the kitchen and sat next to Lucas one more.

“Ok, so I’m assuming you know what an inhaler is.”

Lucas nodded, staring at the inhaler in Steve’s hand oddly.

“I don’t have asthma,” Lucas said matter-of-factly.

Steve chuckled. “And neither do I. But there are times where you get knocked around too much or too hard, and it can rattle your lungs. I found that out the hard way when I was 14 and had my first asthma attack. My lungs had rattled so much they got trapped between my ribs and my mom had to take me to the hospital.”

Lucas winced. “Seriously? How the hell did you manage that?”

My dad got a little too rough, Steve thought. But decided against saying that, obviously. He smiled and shook his head. “Not important.”

Steve uncapped the inhaler and gave it a good shake. “Ok, I’m assuming you know at least a little about using one of these but one things for sure, you’ve gotta fix your posture.”

Lucas immediately straightened his back.

Steve went on explaining about how curling into yourself like that basically compressed your lungs and made breathing harder.

He held the inhaler to Lucas’ mouth and instructed him to breathe in and hold it for as long as he felt he could before releasing slowly.

Lucas did as instructed, and after no more than two puffs Steve instructed him to simply keep his back straight and take deep breaths through his nose and to release slowly through his mouth.

Lucas left on his bike a few minutes later with a few snacks and an extra bottle of water in his bag. Steve told him to talk to his parents about getting him a medical inhaler if he planned to stick out basketball for all of high school. Steve knew how aggressive those kids could be, and while it wasn’t always necessary it was helpful.

When he closed the door behind Lucas he went straight to the living room.

Where apparently everyone had relocated.

“Uh.. hey?” Steve waved pathetically. He had really no idea what to do with the 5 pairs of eyes on him.

“Ok? Um— seriously why are you all looking at me like that? It’s fucking freaky.” Steve curled in on himself a little, folding his arms and hunching his shoulders.

Robin was the first to shoot out of her seat on the couch. Steve was given no warning before he was engulfed in a hug.

“Oh? Ok—“ He wrapped his arms around her tightly. “What happened, Robs? You alright?” he asked from where his face was tucked into her neck.

She nodded, but it was obvious something was wrong.

When Robin let go she dragged Steve by the wrist to the couch and sat with him. He looked at everyone else settled in the living room and raised an eyebrow.

“This isn’t like— an intervention or something, right?” he tried to joke. Argyle seemed to find it funny at least. Steve smiled at him where he sat on the floor by the coffee table.

Then there was an arm wrapping around his waist from the side Robin wasn’t pressed against and Steve wasted no time leaning his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“What’s up with you guys, huh? You’re quiet and it’s scary. I don’t like it.” Steve muttered the last part under his breath and more to himself. But Eddie squeezed his hip reassuringly.

“Nothing’s up, baby. How was everything with Lucas?” Eddie asked. Steve barely gave himself time to pause before he answered, “Good. He’s been moving a lot faster lately.”

He bit his tongue against the slew of words he wanted to spill about everything they’d done in that hour they’d been outside. Instead he said,

“Sorry. Totally ditched you guys for the ball.” He chuckled, trying to take the weight of the words off some. Eddie tutted.

“Don’t apologize, Steve. You looked like you having fun.” Came Nancy’s unexpected reply. Steve’s head shot up to look at her before traveling back to Argyle, who gave him a vague “go on” gesture with his hand.

“Uh..” He pulled his eyes back to Nancy. “Yeah, had a lot of fun. Um— you guys alright?”

Jonathan groaned and Steve watched Nancy hit him on the arm. They had a whole argument with their eyes before Nancy deflated. What the hell?

“Steve.” Jonathan started. Steve flinched slightly and didn’t relax when Eddie squeezed his hip.

He braced himself for the laughs, the jeers. Them telling him they didn’t care that he had fun and that they had to go.

“We’re sorry.”

Steve blinked. You’d think an apology that sounded so heartfelt would lower his inner walls a bit, but it only served to raise them higher. Because—

“What the fuck? Why?”

Jonathan rubbed the back of his head and let Nancy take the lead this time.

“For brushing you off.”

Steve blinked, his inner walls no longer rising but not lowering either.

“For not showing that we cared whenever you started talking about your sports and things.” Was Robin’s add-on from beside him.

Steve flinched and made to get up but remembered he was kind of held down by both Robin and Eddie.

“So this is an intervention? Guys it’s fine, seriously—“

“No. It’s not. Stop talking for a second and let us be sorry, sweetheart.” Eddie’s grip tightened again and Steve tried to find comfort in it like he normally did, but he was so uncomfortable right now it was unbelievable.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been apologized to. Not like this. Not with such sincerity.

It scared him, honestly.

“We’re sorry we didn’t bother trying to show interest in anything you did even though you always made sure to show interest in ours,” was how Eddie finished.

“Even with all the teasing you add in.” Chuckled Jonathan.

Steve found a bit of the comfort he was searching for.

He cleared his throat. “Um ok— so—“

“Not done.” Demanded Nancy.

Steve shut up.

“We’re sorry that we made fun of your interests and maybe made you feel like you couldn’t share your thoughts and feelings with us in fear of getting ridiculed.”

And good God if that wasn’t right on the money.

Steve swallowed against the tears that threatened to mist over his vision.

He laughed quietly instead. And maybe he looked like he was going insane but Jesus Christ— he couldn’t take this right now. He was not expecting a fucking apology after an hour of playing basketball.

What the fuck has his life turned into?

“Ok— done now?” he asked. And when nobody spoke up against him he continued.

“So um— thanks? For the apology? I guess— I guess I just don’t understand. Why are you guys apologizing when you didn’t do anything wrong?”

That got him a chorus of groans that made him curl into himself more. He hung his head and pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and pointer, a nervous habit he’d developed in middle school.

“Steve.” Robin gently said. “We have every reason to apologize and fucking grovel.”

Steve wasn’t given a single moment to protest.

“Sweetheart, what did you do yesterday when I was talking about my campaign?”

Steve looked at Eddie funny. “Dude I don’t know— I think you started talking about it while I was cooking?”

Eddie nodded. “And then you told me to hold on while you put the lasagna in the oven so you could give me your full attention.”

Steve blinked dumbly, not quite getting it.

“That’s the bare minimum, Ed. You were talking about something you really liked so I made sure you knew I was listening.”

And oh wow. It just dawned on him.

“Exactly, honey. None of us— except Argyle, apparently— have been giving you the attention you deserve even though you give us yours no matter what.”

“Steve you listened to me drone about types of cameras and film last week for three hours and didn’t complain once. I know for a fact that shit was boring to listen to because I’ve been told so by both Will and El numerous times.”

Steve stared at Jonathan.

“Ok, sure. But I don’t see— I don’t get— I don’t care that you guys don’t listen to me. Sports are complicated and yeah sure it kind of hurts when you scoff as if it doesn’t mean shit—“

Eddie’s grip tightened considerably.

“—but it— I get it. You guys aren’t obligated to listen to my shit. I listen to you guys because I want to. Because I like hearing you talk about things you’re passionate about. Like Nancy and that new article for the school paper about the different recipe for the meatloaf that makes it taste like dirt, apparently. Or how Polaroid cameras actually date all the way back to like— 1948. Or—“

“But that’s the thing, Steve.” Nancy cut him off. “You listen to these things and remember them because you want to. Because you’re a good friend and good friends listen. We—“ he waved her hand around to all of them “—have not been good friends.”

Steve swallowed around the lump in his throat while Nancy continued.

“The fact that you remember my exact words of calling the meatloaf dirt just proves that. Because we had that conversation, what? A month ago?”

“Three weeks ago.” Me mumbled uselessly.

Nancy sighed.

Robin sat up and took Steve’s face in her hands. “Stevie. We love you. So let us.”

And just like that, Steve was engulfed in a giant group hug.

He didn’t realize how much it’d affected him before now. How being scoffed at and made fun of— even if it was playful— hurt him so much that he’d just stopped talking about things.

When they pulled away Eddie kissed his forehead and Robin kissed his cheek. Steve giggled at the sudden affection.

…

Bonus:

The very next day, Steve saw the change.

Saw the change in how Eddie made sure to ask him about what he was cooking and then let Steve explain the process of a breakfast casserole. How Eddie simply smiled and even engaged with questions as if he was really interested. And maybe Steve didn’t completely believe he was interested, but that was ok. He’d come to his senses eventually.

Then at work Robin made a point to let him choose what they put on the TV for the day and didn’t even complain when he chose the Breakfast Club.

He was scared that they change would last no more than a week. That after some time they’d all go right back to how it was before.

But then a week passed. And two. And three. And then months we’re going by where Steve was allowed to rant and talk and argue about things like cooking and baking and basketball and soccer and volleyball and so much more because they would listen.

And then a year passed and it was April and it was his birthday and when he was surrounded by everyone— the kids, the older teens, even the adults— he opened a present and looked down at the book in his lap.

“Forever Amber”.

Steve will never admit to the tears that he cried that day.

…

Probably gonna do something like this with Lucas and the kids cause I love Lucas ❤️

Here’s that lol:

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #argyle #lucas sinclair #steve gets his appreciation #steve harrington whump #steve has his own interests #his world doesn’t revolve around everyone else #let him be happy #and silly #steddie #hurt/comfort #but not really #cause I’m shit at angst #lucas and steve having a bro bond over sports and doing the weird side hug things #bro bond #cause I’m kind of obsessed

[kingcrow01]

DC x Marvel Fic Recs

@jas-per11 @letthedeadghostrest

Hello! I saw your post, and I've been meaning to rec some DC x Marvel fics anyways, so I'll do that here. I don't know what you've read, so I'll start with

Peter Parker / DC Series:

The Dark Matter Multiverse Series by @mysterycyclone

Dark Matter is the blueprint for most Peter Parker / DC fics, and it's also fucking fantastic. If you're reading a crossover and don't understand why, without explanation, Peter is talking to ghosts? Why he by default ends up living in a firehouse? Read Dark Matter.

Spider and Bat Friends Series by @emmacortana

So far, 12 well written and hilarious works from my all-time favorite author, Miss emmacortana. This, coming from someone with over 1,500 bookmarks. She's that good.

Bitsy and The Bats Series Series by @wibbwoby

Haven't read this one in a while, so I don't have much to say, but Rated T for Traumatized is an absolute classic.

Pizzaverse Series by Irisen

A heavier read, wherein Peter tries to keep his job, make rent, and has a lot of unfortunate run-ins with Gotham's rogues.

Peter & The BatBoys (Doctor AU) Series by @thepoppypress

Peter is the Wayne family's doctor. He has a... chaotic time. I've only read Part 1, but I am still including this here because it's a series.

Peter Parker needs a hug (From the BatFamily) Series by @true-blue-fool

Shorter fics about Peter bonding with the Batfamily. Part 3 is especially cute.

Spider and Bats Series by @superklutzkent

Peter Parker whump, featuring the Batfam. All of the whump.

Let's take a break and look at some DC x Marvel fics that DON'T feature Peter:

Steve Rogers: Man out of Time and Place Series by RavenclawAngel

After Civil War, Steve gets exiled to DCs earth and builds a new team.

from the nucleus flight Series by @blackkatmagic

Khonshu whisks (Comic) Moon Knight away to DC. Very well written and passionate. If it's not your thing, don't let the Bruce Wayne/Marc Spector tag dissuade you from reading; since it's unfinished, the ship hasn't happened yet, and it's too good of a fic to miss out on.

The Devil's in Gotham (Remastered) by @prince-link13

Matt Murdock moves to Gotham and befriends Jason Todd, his neighbor. Bruce Wayne/Matt Murdock

Marvel/DC Crossovers Series by @bamboozled-and-alone

What it says on the tin. My favorite, part 2, is Matt Murdock taking care of Damian Wayne.

Echolocation Series by Firecat23

Matt Murdock and the bats; though, part 6 does have Team Red, meaning Peter.

Back to our regularly scheduled programming:

Peter Parker slash fics:

Cassandra Cain/Peter Parker

Along Came a Spider Series by @rags-n-bones

Quiet Respite by @faeriekit

I'm not too far in this one yet, but it's Faeriekit, so it's bound to be good.

Peter Parker/Tim Drake, affectionately called redspider

a shining spider web by Selador

Needling by LaughingFreak

How dimension travel can lead to love. Series by Psychic_Queen05

My current Favorite Ongoing Peter Parker / DC Crossovers:

The Ones Burnt by This_is_lovin

After the events of No Way Home, Dr. Strange's magic sends Peter to Gotham. He wakes up in another boy's body, and has to deal with the consequences. Part one just ended with a bang, you all should be there for part two, it's gonna be awesome.

Arachnomaly by @songue85

The (Comic) Amazing Spider-Man, being neighborly in Gotham. Plus some sick art from the author.

time flies by (bye) by WHYISEVERYNAMETAKEN

Two difficult years after No Way Home, Peter ends up in Gotham, but with a whole lot of introspection. One chapter left; you better be there.

All of the rest, that didn't fit in the prior categories:

Unforeseen Consequences by @mysterycyclone

Gotta Get to Rock Bottom! by @emmacortana

Read the initial notes first.

Set Naked on Your Kingdom by sassydandelion

Peter's Gotham Debut by BlankGeode, Leeavy

This Was Home by @emmacortana

The Peter Parker Theory by nicfics

and even though we are strange and exquisitely scarred by Wingfeather6913

What happens in New York by @violent138

A Long Way From Home (And No Way Back) by Vivia_wants_boba

Ignorance is Death by No_idea_what_Im_doing_lmaooo

One Dead Spider by Miellonek

If you do check out any of these fics, always leave a comment. Authors love those, it’s like catnip to them.

#dc #marvel #dc x marvel #fic rec #spiderman #spider man #peter parker #ao3

[katyawriteswhump]

Freestyle love (Steddie holiday drabble)

Written for @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 22 prompt, Sports AU.

Nobody ever wanted Eddie Munson on their swim squad, and uni competition was no different. Until Steve Harrington decided to play by the rules.

WC: 966. Rating: T.

CW: none really. Tags: Enemies to lovers, whump, university/college AU.

***

"Munson's freestyle times smash half the teams.'" Steve pushed his wet hair from his eyes, double-checked the stopwatch. “He’s in."

"That science geek pond-scum?” asked Steve's swim co-captain, standing with him beside the pool. "No way. You read the numbers backwards again, Harrington?"

"Shut up. I’m calling this one."

When Steve broke the news, Munson pulled off his swim-cap and a mass of dark, damp hair tumbled out. “One of your teammates said my tats automatically disqualify me,” said Munson.

“That’s bullshit.” Steve actually found Munson’s freaky tattoos bizarrely compelling. Oh, and the body beneath—all lean rope-like muscle, not massive shoulders, but a decent swimmer’s physique. “We need you. You beat most of the sports scholarship guys.”

“I know.” Munson shrugged. “And you can take my place on your dumb squad and stuff it up their buttholes.”

“What the heck, man? Why did you trial, if you don’t want in?”

“To show you over-privileged frat-house dicks you ain’t special. I qualify every year—you’re just the first knucklehead to notice. Anyhooo.” He poked his tongue out stupidly. Steve planted his hands on his hips and couldn’t glare harder. “I’m off to Who Soc.”

“What Soc?”

Munson’s shoulder clipped Steve’s as he passed—possibly an accident, but he nearly toppled Steve into the pool.

“Screw you, man! Crawl back to your den of Satanist freaks, like I care.”

“Yeah?” Munson poked out his tongue again, wiggled his fingers. “Hexing you, Harrington. Oooooh, bet you’re pissing yourself.”

***

Eddie had simply been getting one back for the little guys, against all those over-pumped numbskulls. 

He still felt bad when he heard what happened at the inter-state semis—some moron dived into the pool on top of Harrington in the shallow end, breaking his leg.

It bugged Eddie. So much he wound up visiting Steve at the hospital.

When Eddie sidled into Steve’s room, Steve’s pale face—peeking from behind his plastered leg in traction—said it all: What the heck?

“Hey,” mumbled Eddie. “Guess I’m the last person you expected.”

“On my list of expected visitors, you were somewhere below Elvis.” Harrington seemed pissed. Also genuinely bewildered.

He was still sexy as hell.

Especially now Eddie couldn’t find it in his cold, metal-loving heart to hate the guy. Mmmm, and was it kinda wrong to wanna lick those well-muscled arms, and picture him shirtless… even when Harrington glowered at him from a hospital bed?

Eddie raised his palms in half-hearted surrender. “I owe you an explanation. I’ve been doing swim trials since Middle School. My time is always good—the place I grew up in was right by a lake—yet nobody ever gave me my place on the squad before. This face never fits.” He gurned a silly grin. “Then you went and flew in the face of all the laws in the universe and offered me ‘in.’ I guess it... blew me away.”

“I was only following the goddamn rules.” Steve grumpily puffed his flatter-than-usual hair from his eyes.

“Yeah, and I was a dick, and the Hex thing was dumb. I didn’t really… you know…”

“I don’t blame you for my stupid accident.” Steve rolled his eyes. “Contrary to popular opinion, I'm not a complete moron. I'm scraping a pass in English Lit, okay?” As the atmosphere softened, Eddie shuffled nearer Steve’s bed. “Good job. Who's gonna keep me here on a sports scholarship now?”

“Sorry, man.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault!” Up close, Harrington looked exhausted, possibly even in pain, with dark smudgy shadows around his eyes. “You know, you can do something to make this less shit.”

Eddie’s heart squeezed oddly—gratefully? “What?”

“Take my place in the squad.” Steve mumbled toward hands clasped in his lap. “I recorded your times, made it official. The place is yours to claim. I'd tell the team myself… if any of them came to visit.”

“You’re kidding?”

“Nobody’s got time for a swim co-captain who’ll never swim competitively again.” 

A lump clogged Eddie’s throat. Harrington’s face worked strangely, too… Shit, shit, shit! Eddie reached out, tentatively squeezed Steve’s shoulder. Steve looked up sharply, eyes large and liquid. Damn, the boy was tense.

“That stinks,” said Eddie.

“Yeeeah.” Steve’s laugh was shaky, while Eddie’s mind raced: 

“Dude, I’m in a ton of non-sports societies. D & D, model-making, Who Soc… Uh, maybe not that one for you. I can bring a few of the guys and gals here, see if you get into anything.”

“I don’t need YOU to find me friends.” Harrington’s spikiness proved short-lived. He unleashed a resigned sigh: “Look, man, I’m not exactly in the mood for parties, but… If you wanna come back… that would be cool.”

Suddenly, neither of them could look at each other. Eddie’s face was burning. Could he actually be into me?

“Tho’ if you’re not fresh from swim practice when you arrive, I’m not interested, Munson.”

Eddie hooted: “You blackmailing me?”

“I can play dirty, ya know, buck expectations, too.” Steve went in for the kill. He smiled up at Eddie, a proper, hot-as-hell smile, which reached his too-pretty brown eyes. 

Is he hitting on me?!? Eddie gawked like a goldfish.

“See you tomorrow?”

***

On the day of the national finals, Steve watched from the stands. When Eddie slammed home for victory on the final leg of the freestyle relay, Steve was on his feet—okay, propped by his crutches—cheering his head off.

As soon as Eddie could get away, he clambered, wet and dripping, through to the rear of the stands and planted an even wetter kiss on Steve's lips. Steve threw his arms around his boyfriend. It was great to finally be with somebody to whom only the real things in life mattered. 

"Love you, Champ," he whispered in Eddie’s ear.

"Love you, too." Eddie kissed him again.

Victory had never felt so hot.

***

Thanks for reading :) Also part of my steve whump fic series (mainly steddie) on ao3

#steddieholidaydrabbles #steve x eddie #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington whump #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfic #stranger things fanfic

[oliversrarebooks]

fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace part 2: you can't be fucking serious

Masterlist > Next

TW: abuse, injuries, concussion, sedation, medical whump

Morgan awoke slowly, the sting of antiseptic in his nose. The only thing he could hear past the painful ringing in his ears was the soft beep of medical equipment. His body ached, especially his knee and upper back, and his head was pounding. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He knew exactly where he must be -- in the medbay at his boss's lair -- and the longer they thought he was unconscious, the longer he could relax and heal before the punishments began.

His memories were vague. Lights overhead. Voices. The beeping of medical equipment. A rubber mask on his face.

He lay there, drifting in and out. The pain felt so fuzzy and indistinct. Painkillers? That was new. Salcedo never gave him painkillers. He loved to watch Morgan suffer way too much for that. You wouldn't make it far among the crime lords of the city if you didn't enjoy your work, after all. 

Maybe there was some trick to the fact that he was being allowed this pleasant buzz. Let him relax and let his guard down so it'd hurt more later. He could figure that out when his head felt better.

"...awake..."

Fuck. It was starting. Morgan tried not to react.

"Morgan, are you awake? We just need you to respond to make sure you've woken up from the anesthetics, and then you can go back to sleep, promise."

Morgan couldn't help his face twitching as he recognized that absolutely infuriating voice. Arthur. His blasted nemesis.

Oh, that's right, he had been captured. Lucky fucking him. He got to be completely at the mercy of the hero he'd been tormenting for years. And at the end of it, he might get the wonderful experience of his boss busting him out of captivity only to punish him for his failures.

"Morgan, please, wake up."

Begrudgingly, Morgan opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadn't. Even the dim light of the room was like an icepick to the brain. He looked over to see the smug fucking face of Arthur, and that was even worse.

"I'm awake. What do you want?" he said, his voice weak and slurred. He was definitely drugged, he could tell, because he could barely even muster up the strength to be scared of what was going to happen to him.

"Good. That's very good," said Arthur. He sounded kind. No, he sounded like he pitied Morgan. Oh, fuck that. "You gave us all quite a scare. It was a little touch-and-go for a bit there, but the surgery went well, and you should make a full recovery, as long as you get lots of rest."

Morgan swallowed hard, trying to comprehend this. He'd been given surgery? What the fuck had they done to him? He was in pain all over, but he certainly didn't feel like he'd been turned into a mantis-man hybrid or anything like that. Or been lobotomized.

...Had they seriously just patched him up? After everything he'd done? If there was anyone naive and soft-hearted enough to do that, it was his fucking nemesis.

"How are you feeling?" said Arthur, his voice too gentle.

"Like your whole team shoved me into a woodchipper and danced on the mulch."

"Yes... Julie went a little too hard with the energy blasts. She's still learning how to control it," said Arthur. "But you know, you were..."

"None of this would've happened if I weren't trying to install a zombification device inside city hall? Yeah, got it, lesson learned, next time I install it in your stupid fucking hero lair."

Arthur scowled. "Was the plan your idea or your boss's?"

"As though my boss could build something like that. Did you even notice the craftsmanship, or were you too busy punching it apart?"

Arthur sat back in his chair, looking as if something was on his mind.

The room was filled with medical equipment, the kind Morgan could control with his technomancy. He reached out slowly, feeling like he was fighting through a wall of cotton, and got no response. The familiar, tell-tale feel of power suppressors. They were probably in the restraints. 

"You know, Morgan," Arthur said after a long moment, "when we had you under for surgery, our medic, Laurel, performed an examination."

Morgan turned away. He could tell where this was going.

"There were a lot of injuries there. Injuries that didn't seem like ones you got while fighting us."

"Training."

"It looked like you'd been kicked in the ribs repeatedly without proper healing," Arthur said. "And there were marks that looked like they'd been left by a taser, and a lot of electrical burns."

"Heavy training."

"That's not training, Morgan!" Arthur actually sounded angry, now, and it took all of Morgan's willpower not to flinch away. "I'm not even discussing the massive amount of nasty bruises or that infected cut on your shoulder. Those could've been sustained while fighting heroes. But not all of that. And even if they were, everything looked like it had healed wrong or been left to scar. There's no way that's normal. I know your usual activities. I see the reports of all of your fights. No hero did those things to you. Certainly not my team."

Ugh. What was the point of all this? To humiliate him? Now his nemesis probably knew all about his poor condition, his chronic pain and his trick elbow and the scars littering his back. And it wasn't like it was going to get any better when his boss got him back. Fucking wonderful.

But Arthur didn't sound humiliating or mocking. He sounded concerned, which was almost even worse. "Morgan, did your boss do those things to you?"

Morgan rolled his eyes and turned away. Or he would've turned away if he weren't so heavily restrained he couldn't roll over.

"Morgan, I'm serious. Did your boss --"

"No, of course not," said Morgan, packing his voice with as much sarcasm as he could muster. "You know how Salcedo is. Every time you defeat me, he gives me a nice pat on the head and a participation trophy, and he tells me that it's okay I failed, because I tried and had fun."

Arthur sighed. "He's abusing you."

"He's giving me my quarterly performance reviews. You're abusing my patience."

"While you were sedated, you kept fighting us off, saying you weren't allowed to sleep. Does he prevent you from sleeping?"

Fucking drugs. Morgan barely remembered what had happened, much less what he'd said. He remembered hitting the wall, pain, pain, pain, and then the most beautiful and relaxing feeling in the world, and finally oblivion. 

"...It's been obvious to me for a long time that your health is deteriorating."

"Shut the fuck up," said Morgan, his sarcasm dissolving with his frustration. "You don't understand a goddamn thing about my life, so don't pretend like you do."

"I understand that you're being abused!"

"I'm being trained to fight your team," said Morgan through gritted teeth. "Rich of you to go on about being abused when it was Julie who gave me a sixty mile per hour impact with a concrete fucking wall."

"That was an accident and you know it. And there's a huge difference between thwarting your plans and casually abusing you."

Morgan looked down at his hands. Like he hadn't noticed how the hero team always pulled their punches to avoid injuring him too much, even when he was scheming something really nasty. Like he wasn't so much more afraid of his boss than his nemesis. Like he really needed his nemesis's smug pity.

Why couldn't Arthur just fucking take revenge or whatever? It wouldn't even be that bad while he was hopped up on drugs. Hell, Arthur was probably too soft a heart to pull half the shit Salcedo liked to, even though he had far more reason. Just get it the fuck over with.

"Could you spare me your fucking after school special bullshit and just tell me what you're going to do with me?" With any luck, they would throw him in ordinary jail and not that awful psychiatric hospital. Either way, it wouldn't stop his boss from finding him and pulling him out again whenever he decided Morgan was needed. Or needed to be punished.

"Well, we can't let you go free, obviously," said Arthur. "But if we put you in jail, you're just going to get captured by Salcedo again."

Oh, Morgan hated the way he phrased that. Captured. Like he was a civilian being taken hostage and not Salcedo's right hand man and a terrifying villain in his own right.

Arthur was leaning in closer. "You don't have to work for Salcedo, you know."

Morgan's eyes went wide with shock as he realized the turn this conversation was taking. He laughed sharply, a little maniacally. "Are you serious? Are you fucking serious, Arthur?" he said. "Did you also hit your head on a wall? Did you forget who you're talking to?"

"I think I know you quite well by now, yes."

"And you're seriously trying to get me to go straight? Join your merry little band of idiot heroes?"

"...it would take a lot of work, and a lot of trust, but yes, eventually. It's something I've thought about on more than one occasion," said Nemesis, who, against all odds, seemed to be completely serious. "Look, let's cut the bullshit. Salcedo is abusing you. Don't even try to deny it, because I've seen more than enough evidence. He's beating you, burning you, god knows what else. He's working you to the bone on ridiculous plans that will never work, and makes you the fall guy for them while he escapes unscathed."

Every word of that was true, and hearing it from Arthur made him want to punch him in the face.

"You're a smart guy. Ridiculously smart. And despite what you claim, you have ethical standards. Remember the time the two of us teamed up to get those kids out of the burning school?"

"They were kindergartners, c'mon --"

"You have ethical standards, no matter how shaky they can be. And you have courage and talent," said Arthur. 

"You think I can be won over with cheap flattery, seriously, Arthur?"

"How about cheap flattery and a cool costume?" he said. "But seriously consider what I'm telling you. You're a smart guy. We pay well, maybe not as well as Salcedo, but enough, and you'd get overtime when you have to work late. We have health insurance. Most importantly, nobody is going to beat you to within an inch of your life if you screw up."

"Oh, yeah, sure thing, I'll just do that," said Morgan. "And I'm sure that, after everything I've done to you, you're all just going to protect me when Salcedo shows up to get me back."

"Yes. I will. I absolutely will," he said. "...Because he's going to kill you. We both know that. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but someday. And you don't deserve that."

Fuck. He sounded so serious. He was using his superhero voice. The one he used to tell terrified hostages that he was going to save them and that nobody was getting hurt. The one that was usually directed at the civilians Morgan was menacing.

 "I don't expect you to make this decision overnight," said Arthur, standing up. "You've got a lot of healing to do. A lot of time to think over where your life is headed."

"And you're just gonna let me heal?" said Morgan skeptically. "You've got me totally at your mercy in what I assume is your underground secret lair, and you're just going to let me lay here and heal up my injuries?"

"Yes. I mean it. I know you don't believe me, but it's true. As long as you don't try to cause harm to any of us, no harm will come to you while you're here. I swear it." Arthur turned as he was about to walk out the door. "All I'm asking is that you think about what I said to you. We'll talk again. The nurse is here to see you."

And he was gone, and Morgan felt utterly exhausted.

An older woman wearing scrubs with pride-flag-colored fish on them entered the room. She looked tired and a little scared. "Well, uh, Arthur tells me you're awake and lucid, Mr.... uh... Mr. Morgan," she said. "That's good. You were in pretty bad shape."

"Hmph."

"Can I look in your eyes with this penlight, please? You had a really nasty concussion, so you're probably going to be very tired and disoriented for a while as you recover."

Great. It was super great to be concussed and useless in the hero's lair. Still, he submitted to Laurel's eye exam without a fuss. It was one thing to sass his nemesis -- putting up a fuss for the medic was pointless when she was just trying to do her job.

"The only thing you can really do right now is get some rest," she said. "I can give you some painkillers, and some sedation if you think you'll have trouble sleeping. Would that be okay?"

Morgan let out a sharp laugh. "Oh, sure, yeah, I really want to be drugged up and helpless in the hero's lair."

"Well, you're not going anywhere," she pointed out. "You'll heal a lot faster if you get some rest."

Morgan scowled. He couldn't afford to be lounging on a bed in a drugged haze. He had to work on finding a way to escape, preferably with some valuable information or a hostage, in the hopes he could catch Salcedo in a good mood. 

But no matter how he looked at it, he was already exhausted, concussed, power-repressed, and in restraints. He wasn't successfully escaping a team of heroes in this condition, sedated or not. And if they wanted him at their mercy, they could come knock him out whenever they felt like it. 

So what difference would it make if he were drugged again? God knows his life was going to fucking suck enough once Salcedo came to drag him back. Might as well feel artificially good for a few hours.

"Yeah, I'll take it. Give me the good shit," said Morgan. 

"Right away," she said with a laugh. She pulled a few bottles of clear liquid from her pocket, and, consulting a chart attached to his bed, began to measure out doses. "You know, it's really interesting to finally get to meet you, Mr. Morgan."

"Scared?" he said, attempting his most menacing grin.

"...well, I haven't forgotten the things you've done," she said, which really wasn't what you wanted to hear when someone was preparing a syringe for you. "But the team thinks you deserve a chance, and it's a medical professional's responsibility to provide care for anyone, no matter their past. So I'll treat you like I would any innocent person. You have my word." The look in her eyes was distant. "You're not so frightening now, anyway."

Morgan tried to push down his unease. "Fuck you, I'm a goddamn menace."

"Of course you are," she said, injecting the drugs into Morgan's IV line. "This should kick in in a few minutes. It's going to make you very drowsy. I suggest actually getting some sleep and not fighting it. We'll be monitoring you, but if you have any complications, hit this button."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," said Morgan, smarting from the fact that he couldn't even intimidate the medic. He was at her mercy. He didn't like being at anyone else's mercy. He knew how he treated people he had at his mercy. How his boss treated people.

He hated being on the receiving end, when he was normally such a fearsome and threatening...

Fearsome and threatening...

Ohhh.

Whatever Laurel had injected hit him like a truck, because suddenly he was feeling real fucking good. It was like all of his anxiety melted away, his tight muscles loosening, the pounding in his head finally lightening up. He felt like he were being wrapped up into a wool blanket and carried off on a soft cloud to slumberland. 

Any thoughts of trying to scheme his way out of the hero's stronghold evaporated from his mind. He didn't even bother fighting as his eyelids grew heavy and threatened to close. He was so tired and felt so good. Sleep would feel amazing.

You're a smart guy. Just think about it. Arthur's words echoed in his mind as he began to drift.

Fuck you, Arthur. Like it was all so fucking simple.

Arthur probably knew him better than just about anyone. He must know that it would never work. Why even bother?

Morgan couldn't help but picture himself laughing and joking with Toshiro and Satomi and Julie, dressed in one of their ridiculous bright uniforms, working on gadgetry to help people instead of constantly getting his beautiful machines smashed to bits. 

Ridiculous. The fact that he was even thinking about it was the drugs talking. And now, the drugs were whispering to him that he should really just get some sleep. When would he ever get to sleep this well? Certainly not when his boss came to pick him up.

Part 1 >> Masterlist > Next

@cardboardarsonist @zeiniszein @crystallizedme @mistythedritten @pigeonwhumps @whumpshaped @sparrowsage

#whump #villain whumpee #whumper #medical whump #sedation #concussion #abuse #morgan #arthur #laurel #fuck you i'm a goddamn menace

[missathlete31]

Someone In Your Corner

Summary: Hangman, struggling to deal with his nightmares after the mission, goes for a run in the California heat. When he gets himself into trouble he finds a surprising ally on his side.

Aka if Maverick is MavDad meet DaggerMom

Hey look, yet another Jake Seresin Whump/Angst fic….. also known as the only thing I know how to write lol! Enjoy!

Two week after the Uranium mission and Jake "Hangman" Seresin was struggling. The Navy had given them all a month's worth of leave, a ridiculously long time in Jake's opinion but extremely sought after for all the others. There was a mandatory week of debriefs and discussions, most of which Jake hovered in the back and only answered when he was addressed directly, but then they were free to go. The whole squadron seemed to have gotten plane tickets to head back home, the suicide mission making a lot of them place things in new perspective. Jake of course would rather perform ten suicide missions than even think about going home to Texas. Javy had invited him back to New Orleans with him and his family but Jake declined. He loved the Machados; he spent enough holidays over there to think of them as the closest thing he'd ever get to a real family, but he knew Javy was still shaken up from his G-Loc incident and the mission in general. He deserved a chance to decompress with his loved ones instead of trying to entertain Jake.

So Jake waved his best friend off at the airport on the third day after the start of their official leave and went back to the barracks to find a notice on his door. It seemed that the temporary living quarters they were supplied for training was being revoked now that everything was over. Jake had vaguely heard one of the others talking about it at the bar but he didn't realize it applied to those that weren't going home as well. He assumed he would be allowed to hang around base, maybe convince Admiral Simpson (or at least the more agreeable Admiral Bates) to let him jump into a few hops to keep his skills sharp. Those plans were scrapped though as both Admirals informed him in no uncertain terms that none of the Daggers would be allowed back in the air until they were given the all clear from both medical and psych. Jake was already cleared on the medical end but all psych evals were to be conducted after the team returned from leave. He wanted to push to get his moved up but Cyclone only gave him that un-amused look that he usually reserved for Maverick, and Jake figured it wasn't worth the fight (he was still on shaky ground for disobeying direct orders on the carrier that day- and for getting the rest of the flight crew to go along with him).

So now not only was Jake alone on North Island, he was also forced to find new housing. With no real other options, he checked into a random motel that was far from luxurious with its outdated decor and questionable activities for it's by the hour patrons. Jake found he didn't mind though as long as he used his own sheets. Also besides a few quick visitors a few doors down, Jake was virtually on his own in his section. This was a huge benefit for the blonde pilot as he found himself dealing with an added difficulty now that the mission was over: debilitating nightmares.

It was embarrassing for him to admit but Jake had always struggled with nightmares. As a child in an abusive household he was always so tense and on edge, especially at night after his father had had a couple of drinks in him, that he found his dreams were filled with running away from monsters that looked vaguely like his parents until he woke up screaming. After receiving punishments for waking anyone up with his pathetic cries, Jake learned to muffle his terror to much quieter levels, though the nightmares always held a grip on him for those formable years. As he got older and into his teen years, Jake's real world seemed to be worse than any dream ever could be and sadly that was what quashed his night terrors for a few years at least. When he left home and joined the Navy he felt freer than he ever had in the world and he finally learned what the term 'sleep like a baby' really meant.

It didn't last for long though because after his first confirmed kill, Jake's nightmares came back. He was forever dreaming of being back in his plane, sometimes shooting down the Bogey, other times the Bogey catching him first. He had nightmares where he shot his wingman down instead, his whole squadron condemning him for the action. Other times it would be his squad shot him down because they were protecting themselves from Hangman leaving them like his call-sign dictated. These dreams circled through Jake's sleep cycle for weeks until Javy caught on before he was sent to ship out again and noticed the dark bags under his best friend's eyes. Though Javy knew better than to push Jake towards any sort of professional therapy from the Navy that could ultimately keep him grounded, he did force his best friend to talk to him more about what was troubling him and to find healthy outlets for his anxiety, fear, and guilt. Jake's favorite method became running.

Jake already enjoyed running from when he was a kid and needed an escape at home so using it to relax from work stress as well came fairly easy. He took to jogging around bases in the morning, night or whenever he just felt a little overwhelmed. Javy would join him if he was able, though normally he cut out about half the miles while jokingly calling Jake a robot for being able to run so much. It was therapeutic and it worked, especially when he ran at night, as Jake felt his body become so tired he went off to sleep without any dreams at all.

But then this mission happened.

First it was Coyote's G-loc; the sounds of Maverick trying to stir his best friend back to consciousness before he crashed into a mountain staying with Jake even during waking hours. In dreams it was worse, Maverick never getting tone in time, Coyote's scream over the radio before he burned up in his jet. Jake would wake up each time with tears in his eyes and would struggle to not call his best friend right there and then. Jake also dreamed of the bird strike. Though he pretended to be indifferent, he really did care about Phoenix, she was one of his oldest friends, dating back to his Flight School days. That nightmarish day, after being so close to losing Javy, to then hear her and Bob forced to eject, it broke something in Jake. His dreams featured the two not ejecting in time, or sometimes different pilots were up there but with the same results. The worst nightmare was when Jake was in the air with them and he listened to Phoenix scream at him that because he left them hanging, the birds hit their plane instead of his. Both Bob and Phoenix's last words were wishing it was Jake instead. Maverick would share the sentiment on the radio as the two planes watched the other go down. When Jake woke from that particular dream, he usually felt so gutted all he could do was sit up in silence.

There were moments from the actual mission that attributed to his night terrors as well of course. First it was Dagger one going down, the others blaming Jake for not being good enough that Maverick had to take the spot of team leader to ensure the others survived and therefore sacrificed himself. Then he would hear Dagger Two going down and there was the guilt of having Bradshaw die after all the mean things Jake had said and done to him. But the worst was Jake's rescue of Maverick and Rooster. Jake couldn't count the times he would close his eyes (both awake and asleep) and see the damn missile that was headed right for that old F-14. He never told anyone outside of his debriefs with the Admirals but that missile was shot and deployed and not even seconds away from killing both Captain Mitchell and Bradshaw. He had had no time to spare.

Every night during the week of debriefs Jake would dream of being too late, of watching that missile kill his CO and his wingman in a fiery blaze as bright as the sun. Jake would be forced to call on the radio that he hadn’t reached them in time, would land on the carrier not to celebration and hugs but dirty looks and tears. One night the nightmare was so bad, felt so real, that Jake actually called Rooster just to hear his voice. The groggy other pilot thought it was some kind of joke and didn't respond incredibly kind but Jake hung up the phone with tears of relief in his eyes anyway. He would take a sarcastic Rooster over a dead one any day.

Last night Jake dreamed of the man he shot down. His second confirmed kill but it wasn't any easier. He dreamed of the man's family, his children growing up fatherless like Rooster did. A whole family lineage cursing him for taking away the man they loved most. When he woke up Jake only had a few seconds before he was puking in his toilet, no chance of falling back to sleep again. His count of hours slept in the week at a sickening level. He knew he should be worried, knew that he should address his problems with someone but everyone else was dealing and he didn’t understand how he couldn’t. He wasn’t one of the Daggers, he wasn’t the one completing the suicide course. He didn’t go into G-Loc or get hit with a bird strike. He wasn’t shot down and he wasn’t stuck behind enemy lines and scrambling to get home. Jake was just the spare; sure he had a lucky shot, but he did nothing more. He didn’t deserve to bother anyone with his lack of sleeping. He would get it sorted, just like he always did.

As the day progressed and Jake's lids got heavier he thought about his techniques to combat his nightmares in the past and looked for his running gear. He hoped to kill two birds with one stone, run enough to clear his mind but also to make himself so exhausted he would fall asleep right away. The pilot put on his sneakers and reached for headphones before heading out the door. He knew it was going to be hot but the minute he was outside he felt like a wall of humidity was surrounding him. It wasn't the ideal running conditions but Jake grew up in Texas where heat was a part of everyday life. He threw off his shirt knowing it would be soaked in a second and headed out.

—————————————————————————-

Penny Benjamin wiped another hand across her brow as she turned to another box. She knew she shouldn't have chosen Tuesday to do inventory especially when the weather forecasts all called for the height of the heat wave to hit, yet here she was sweating in the back rooms of the Hard Deck anyway. She wished Maverick was around to help, though he was abnormally chaotic in a tight setting, at least the man could have helped with the lifting. Pete however, had taken Bradley for a 'getting re-acquainted trip' aka a 'get our crap together' trip up in Northern California. Penny was so happy to see the two trying to make things right and she knew it meant the world to Pete.

It did leave her alone though and with all the other pilots of the squadron gone on leave and Amelia visiting her father, Penny hated the quiet. Even doing normal chores around the bar made her ache for the loud and boisterous group she had grown to love. She hoped they were at least all trying to heal like Maverick and Rooster. She wasn't given all the details from the mission but she knew there were a lot of close calls and that for everyone to return was lucky, bordering on miraculous. Penny felt lucky herself every time she got to see Pete's smile again.

As the morning progressed and the heat got too much Penny opted to go over some sales numbers and to save the inventory for later. Grabbing her books, she headed for her usual table outside, the umbrella giving only the most miniscule relief from the heat.

She looked up as she watched a man run on the beach. He looked vaguely familiar but it wasn't until he was a bit closer that Penny realized it was Hangman. She had been surprised this morning when she saw the man arrive at the beach to run. She had assumed Hangman like all the others had gone away for leave. Clearly this wasn’t the case as the pilot putt his ear pods in and started his jog just as she first opened up to do inventory. Penny glanced at her watch and saw it was close to an hour later then since she had first arrived, and yet Hangman was still running. A hint of worry bubbled in her stomach but she learned that Top Gun pilots tended to be work-out fanatics, Hangman no exception.

As the man neared, Penny raised her hand, "Hangman!" she called but she wasn't surprised when the man kept running, no doubt lost in his music and training. She watched him for a minute, not immune to admit that the sight of the muscular shirtless blonde running along the beach wasn't the worst thing she's laid her eyes on. She shook her head at her silliness and turned back to her sales book figuring she would chastise the man for ignoring her later when he came in for some beers tonight.

Thirty minutes later the same figured appeared for the third time since she sat outside and Penny's brow furrowed. She knew Hangman liked to run but this was getting a bit excessive. She was familiar with his two mile loop, she had walked it with Amelia many times herself, but never this many times, nor in this kind of heat. When she included the time she was in the basement, she knew Jake was running much more than was normal or healthy on a day like today. It was nearing noon, the heat for the day was at its worse and she had heard an air quality alert on the news this morning. Jake ran with no water bottle, no shirt and if she had to guess no sunscreen. He just ran, and ran, and ran.

Perhaps it was the mother in her or perhaps it was just the concern for a pilot she had grown to care about over the years, but Penny refused to let Hangman run past again without at least taking a little respite. She stood herself up from the table and headed towards the sand, waving a bit to not startle the runner. As she got closer she noticed Hangman's gait was off, he seemed to be listing to the side with each step. Her concern mounting, Penny hurried forward a little faster, her heart dropping when she noticed Jake had started to stagger. "Hangman you alright?" the barmaid hollered, but instead of a verbal response Jake fell to one knee. "Jake!" Penny called as she watched the blonde collapse complete to the ground. He landed face first in the sand and the older woman felt herself fall next to him, a gentle hand reaching for his shoulder to help roll him over.

The man lying before her looked so far from the Hangman she knew that Penny gasped. Jake's normally lively green eyes were closed, his skin pale and his breath raspy. She gently nudged his face, trying to stir some kind of reaction and felt her heart relax a fraction when Jake gave a low groan and took a wobbling hand to brush hers away.

"Hey Hangman you with me?" she tapped his cheek again, worry increasing when she felt how warm his body was and yet she didn't notice much sweat on his body. Familiar with signs of overheating but in no way a doctor, Penny looked back towards the Hard Deck and hoped to see someone around that could help her. Unfortunately it seemed they were alone. She turned back to the blonde and saw his eyes were still closed though his body seemed to want to move. “Jake honey, can you hear me?” she asked again.

“P-Penny?” Jake murmured and finally those green eyes were open if barely past slits. He seemed to take a good look at the woman leaning over him before all the rest of the color in Hangman’s face disappeared and he rolled over to his side. As he retched out what Penny disgustingly assumed was his breakfast, she tried to run a soothing hand over his back but again she faltered at how hot his body temperature seemed to be. She reached to pull him back to face her carefully, allowing his back to land back in a clean portion of sand before trying to meet his eyes, “Jake, you with me? Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, yeah” he didn’t sound convincing, “’ll good.”

“I think you’re overheated, I need to get you inside.”

“No-“ he shook his head weakly, his voice low and gravelly, “-m fine…. Just-… just overdid it a bit. ”

Penny moved to brush back his damp hair from where it was plastered with sand to his forehead, “You really over did it, okay” she tried to give a reassuring smile but her concern was too great and it became more of a grimace, “you need to get out of this sun and get some water in you. You think you can stand?”

It didn’t look like Jake would be moving any time soon but when Penny gave him a small pull the pilot managed to follow the momentum enough to get himself standing. It wasn’t pretty and Hangman looked ready to puke again at least three different times, but he held it in and allowed Penny to throw his arm around her shoulders. The two took a moment to gain their balance before they started with small and slow steps all the way back to the Hard Deck.

The walk was long and tedious. With each step that they got closer Jake’s movements got sloppier and the weight Penny had to support seemed to double. When she finally got him inside, Penny deposited Jake to the nearest booth and ran for a cold water bottle and some towels. She ran them under the coldest water she could get and started to place them over Jake’s chest, his neck and his forehead. The man didn’t even flinch. “Keep those there” Penny ordered as she moved to grab more water bottles, “and take small sips of water.”

Jake tried to follow orders but when he moved his hands to open the bottle, they were shaking so bad he dropped it. He went to get his body to pick it up but instead he slid down to the floor, his back against the table’s leg. Penny heard the commotion and came running, finding the pilot out of it and on the floor of her bar. “Jesus Jake, I think we need to get you to the hospital” she told him, “This is way worse than over heating-“

“No” Jake shook his head, his eyes unfocused, “’m –ok-“

“Honey” she got him standing again, “no you’re not. Hang on, take a seat for a minute and let me get my keys. I have to lock up the basement and then I will take you.” She led him back towards the booths but didn’t wait for him to sit, instead running to her bag and car keys.

Meanwhile the blonde had teetered after her, following towards the bar and knocking over a stool followed by another, "shit” he cursed, “’m sorry. Y-you can just call m’ an uber" Jake slurred softly, now leaning heavily against the bar, “’t’s no bother.”

"Absolutely not, and I said to sit Jake" she ordered, manhandling him towards the booths, "sit before you collapse again."

"'M -fine-"

"No you're really not." Her eyes must have shown her anger and concern because Jake seemed to melt into the cushion of the seats. Penny gave a nod and then ran to lock up her basement door and lock the inventory room. When she got back to the bar she noticed Jake’s head was leaning down on the table. “Hangman?” she questioned, but the man didn’t stir, “Jake?” When she still got no answer, she hurried over and took one of the water bottles, emptying it over the man’s head in a frantic shake, “Lieutenant Seresin!” she yelled and was luckily awarded with a dazed Jake shaking his wet hair out in confusion. “-enny?” he murmured sleepily, “did it rain?”

“Something like that” Penny lied, moving to grab the man out of the booth once more and get him towards the exit, “now come on honey, we’re going to the hospital.”

“-Don’’ feel so g-good.”

“I know, but we’re going to get you all fixed up” she promised silently praying that she could deliver on such a statement. If she was honest with herself Jake’s condition was really starting to frighten her. He collapsed three times already, he threw up on the beach and his body temperature was frightening high. She had tried cold compresses but they didn’t seem to make a difference. He was incoherent and confused; his body a shaky and unstable mess when he was normally frighteningly in control.

They got to Penny’s car quickly; fortunately she parked in the closet spot this morning. She helped lay Jake out along the back seat, sparing a second to take a hand to his forehead where she still felt the heat radiating off his skin. She pursed her lips but didn’t say anything, instead starting her car and cranking the A/C, hoping that it would help cool the pilot down.

For the first few minutes of the ride, Jake stayed silent and if it weren’t for Penny looking towards him in the rear view mirror every few seconds she would have thought he was unconscious or worse. Instead she watched as the man took shallow wheezy breaths, praying they get to the hospital quickly so he could get real help.

After a few more minutes of silence, Penny heard what sounded like a throat clearing in the back seat. Jake’s voice sounded fractured when he finally spoke up, "'why-you helpin' me?" he whispered from the back, 'm a bad person. A bad person with no one left.”

"No you're not honey" Penny immediately argued back, watching as Hangman’s eyes closed and his face scrunched up in pain, "you're a good person. I know that and so do the others."

"Asshole to them.... always a jerk..."

"I think they've started to see all that for what it is.” And she really believed that. The Hangman that strutted around the Hard Deck all these years was a show, meant for entertainment and for keeping people at arm’s length. Penny, no stranger at pushing people away herself, could recognize the signs easily though she knew it took the others a while to see. “You earned your teammates’ trust” she continued with what she hoped sounded reassuring. Jake didn’t seem to react to the words though, so Penny tried to push a bit more remembering what Maverick had told her the night he returned after the boat docked, about how Jake had saved his life, “you showed them the true Jake Seresin during the mission. They see it now.”

“They all left, ‘m alone again.”

“You’re not alone sweetheart”

“I should be, ‘ve killed people” Jake announced next and in the driver’s seat Penny stilled. It’s not that she doesn’t know this fact, she’s heard Hangman address it before but hearing Jake speak the words so matter of factly while he himself was so broken, exhausted and barely conscious, Penny’s heart clenched. “You were just doing your job, Jake, it’s different.”

“No” he shook his head minutely, “’t’s not.” He sniffed back what sounded like a sob, “can’t sleep, just see it again and again… All my mistakes... all the early graves… all my fault.”

“Nothing was your fault Jake, you saved lives that day. You saved Maverick and Rooster-“

“see them die every night…. ‘m pathetic-“

“No you’re not, you’re so brave honey” she felt a tear fall down her cheek as Jake let out another raspy sob, “so, so brave.”

“’ can’t even sleep anymore” Jake moaned, “just wanna sleep-“

“We can get you help for that” she urged, “there are people that can help-“

“No one can ‘elp me” his head lulled to the side, “I…can’t be fixed.”

There was so much Penny wished to say, so much she wished to correct but before she got the chance she was pulling into the emergency driveway entrance of the hospital and screeching her brakes to a halt behind an empty ambulance. “Please!” Penny hollered from her window at the two paramedics heading out the exit doors. Both stopped and looked her way, “please I need help” she urged to them.

The two women hurried forward, following Penny’s directions to the back seat, “he’s in rough shape, can you help me get him inside?”

“I’ll get the backboard and gurney” the younger of the medics announced, running back to her rig. When she returned the three women were able to lift Jake up and onto it, the two medical professionals beginning to wheel him inside, Penny hot on their heels.

“Ma’am you can’t leave your car here” the security guard tried but Penny ignored it and just continued to follow the gurney wheeling Hangman further into the hospital. Getting a ticket was the least of her worries, even getting towed. All she cared about was making sure the blonde pilot in that bed got the care he needed.

She followed them through into the emergency room where Jake was taken into a corner make-shift room with curtains closing it off. A nurse started asking Penny questions about Jake’s age, medical history, and if he had any allergies. She tried to answer to the best of her abilities but the truth was she didn’t really know. Jake Seresin had been coming to the bar for years but Penny couldn’t even tell the hospital if he was allergic to peanuts yet alone any medication he was on; she just never bothered to get to know him that well. She vowed if they got through this debacle, she would find out, resolved to pester Jake with so many questions he would have no choice but to tell her everything. She looked forward to it with a spark of hope.

Suddenly an older man came forward from the other side of the curtain, ripping it open with an intern on his heels, “What do we have?” he asked, not looking away from his patient on the bed.

“32 year old white male, fading in and out of consciousness, feels excessively warm to the touch-“

The doctor sighed and put on his glasses, his thinning hair reflecting the light as he knelt down on his work stool, and started to lightly examine Jake’s face and chest, “what’s his name?”

When no one else replied Penny realized the question was addressed to her. She swallowed her nerves, “Lieutenant Jake Seresin” she told him.

“Navy?”

“A Navy pilot, yes.”

“Why did you bring him here, shouldn’t he be on base?”

Penny shrugged, realizing she never even thought about taking Jake back to North Island, her mind just drove them to the first hospital she could think of, “this was closer” she explained instead.

The doctor hummed but continued his examination, “okay Lieutenant can you hear me?” when the blonde gave no response, the doctor turned to one of the nurses, “get me a temperature reading now” he ordered.

“Right away Doctor” and the nurse hurried to get the thermometer.

“What happened to him?” the ER doctor asked, shining a pen light as he used a hand to hold open Jake’s eye lid.

“He collapsed on the beach,” Penny supplied dutifully, still watching with what felt like a heavy weight on her chest, “he had been running and I think he might have over heated-“

“In this heat, I’m not surprised. Order a toxicology report, I don’t like his pupil dilation.”

Penny felt her temper flare, “He wasn’t drinking” she shot back, “he’s exhausted.”

“Let’s take the family out of the room-“ the doctor also added, rolling his eyes to his staff. As a nurse went to remove her, Penny listened as another rattled off Jake’s temperature. The minute his nurse was done saying 105 degrees, the ER doctor began sprouting commands, his voice a lot more concerned and worried than it were not two minutes ago. Penny knew 105 was dangerous, even deadly, but seeing doctors and nurses run in frantically made the woman more scared than she could ever remember being in her life. A curtain was pulled and her view was gone, and Penny felt her heart stutter as she wondered if that was to be the last time she would ever see Jake again. What if he died? What if she was too late getting him help, waited too long in the bar locking up a damn inventory closet when she should have been calling an ambulance and getting the poor man help. Her legs buckled for a moment but the nurse at her side kept a strong hand on her arm that kept her standing. “Here we go” the nurse told her steering her to the nurses’ station, “Fran” she called and one nurse was replaced with a different one as Penny was handed off once more.

“Okay” the nurse named Fran began, an iPad in her hand and glasses on her kind face, “let’s begin. Patient’s name was what again?”

“Lieutenant Jake Seresin.”

“Age?”

“32.”

“Occupation?”

“Naval Pilot.”

She typed faster, then opened her mouth to ask more but Penny beat her too it, "please" she begged, "is he going to be alright?"

Fran seemed to scrutinize her for a moment, his brown eyes boring into Penny over her glasses, “What is your relation to him again?" she questioned.

Penny stuttered for a moment, but then found her confidence, "I'm- I'm his aunt” she declared daring someone to disagree. The nurse didn’t argue, just typed something on her iPad, “and your name?”

“Penny Benjamin.”

Fran nodded and motioned towards the waiting room, “okay Ms. Benjamin, take a seat and I’ll send a doctor to talk once he finishes his evaluations.”

"But can’t I go back in?“

“You’ve done everything you could for the Lieutenant; now leave it to the doctors.” Fran placed a comforting hand to her arm and squeezed gently, “your nephew is in good hands.”

“What if I didn’t do enough, I tried to put cold compresses, and the water, but he could even grip it properly and I never made him drink-“

“Shhh” the kind woman placated her, “I’ll let the doctors know. I’m sure they will put him on fluids right away, you just sit here.”

“T-Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, I’ll be back later.”

Penny watched her go, falling into the hard waiting room chair and taking her head into her hands. She wanted to scream in frustration and worry, but she knew that wouldn’t help Jake. Instead she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing.

A hand on her arm a few minutes later made her jump. She looked up; expecting a doctor or nurse but finding herself staring at the same security guard she had run past before. The man looked sheepish, clearly feeling guilty for startling her. Penny pulled her fingers through her long brown hair to try to look even a semblance of normal but the security guard didn’t seem to judge. “Ma’am” he began, “I’m sorry to bug you but I really need you to move your car, we got ambulances that need to unload in those spaces and you’re blocking them.”

She looked back at him, her face reddening in mortification; she had completely forgotten about the car she had left parked in the emergency entrance. “I’m so sorry, Sir, I was so panicked before-“

He shook off her apology, “believe me I’ve seen it a million times before. Just move it now and we can both pretend it didn’t happen. I know you got more important things to worry about.” He offered a hand to help her standing and Penny took it gratefully, rising from the chair and heading to the automatic doors leading outside.

Penny moved her car like directed and then took back her seat in the waiting room. She noticed others sitting around, none paying her much attention, everyone lost in their own worlds of worry and fear.

This was why she hated hospitals, especially waiting rooms. It was a place where time simultaneously stood still and yet rushed by. People waited in agony over people in actually agony. Some people were here for last goodbyes while others welcomed new lives into the world. It was a place of overstimulation and over emotion and yet Penny couldn’t imagine herself being anywhere else at the moment. She would wait here as long as it took until she knew Jake would be okay.

About an hour later, a tall man approached the nurse’s station and Penny watched as he was directed to her. "Ms Benjamin?" the dark haired doctor called dressed in scrubs, "my name is Doctor Rask,” he held out a hand for Penny to shake, her grip lacking from her fear, “I’m your nephew's doctor” he told her soothingly.

"Hi" Penny breathed out, trying to control her nerves, "how's Jake?" she asked after no preamble.

If he thought she was rude the doctor didn't comment, instead he went right into Jake's diagnosis. "Lieutenant Seresin has a severe case of hyperthermia, more specifically heat stroke. His body temperature was 105 when you brought him in and that was with the cooling methods you tried to do prior. With a body temp that high our biggest concern is always going to be organ failure."

Penny clutched her hands into fists; the feeling of her nails in her palms the only thing keeping her together. She focused on the slight pain as she struggled to find her voice, "did he-... is his organs... are they okay?"

"He is extremely lucky” the doctor explained, “We don't see any evidence of organ failure but we will monitor him closely for the next few hours to be sure."

"That's- that's good news."

Dr. Rask spared her a comforting look, "it is, especially with how overheated he was but he's not out of the woods yet. Lieutenant Seresin was also severely dehydrated and extremely exhausted. His fine motor skills were so impaired upon admission that the ER doctor ordered a toxicology report because he was convinced Lieutenant Seresin must have been drunk. He wasn't of course but the Lieutenant admitted to being unable to supply the last time he had a full night's sleep."

Penny sighed, "he just got back from a serious mission Doctor Rask, it affective him deeply-"

"I understand," the doctor cut in gently, "and believe me I'm sympathetic but I suggest he find someone to talk to about this. He is beyond normal exhaustion levels which is extremely dangerous, not only in his profession but in all matters of his life."

"I agree. I plan on reaching out to his CO to discuss this as well."

The doctor softened, "we can also recommend people for him to talk to if he didn't want to go through the Navy. My father served and I know firsthand how people can be hesitant to show weakness to their superiors. It’s dangerous and they end up denying themselves the opportunity to get proper help."

"Thank you, I worry about that as well but I can promise you I will personally make sure Jake gets the help he needs, even if I have to drag him myself."

"He's lucky to have you" Doctor Rask shared with a smile.

Penny shook her head, her eyes falling to the floor, “I don't know about that” she admitted softly.

"I do” the doctor told her kindly, “You saved his life getting him in here so quickly."

"So he will be okay?"

"Well like I said before his organs look undamaged which is the best news for his case. He is still on cooling pads right now as we try to lower his temperature safely. We also have him on multiple IVs to increase his fluids and nutrients."

It certainly didn’t sound like he was okay but Penny took the doctor’s calm attitude as a good sign. Still she would only feel better once she could see Jake with her own eyes, "Is he awake?" she asked ready to run to his room if she found out he was.

Doctor Rask shook his head, "we gave him a small sedative which I would normally be against but Lieutenant Seresin was very restless in the room from the over exhaustion. I feared he would tax himself further. It should wear off in a few hours but he will be exceptionally groggy. Do to the severity of the heat stroke and the strain on his body; I want to keep him overnight for observations."

"Can I see him?"

"I would prefer not if I'm honest” he managed a sympathetic look when he noticed her face fall. “It's important for him to stay resting. In his heightened state and with the weak sedation, any disruption could cause him to wake before he's ready and that's the last thing he needs. Rest is his best medication at this point."

"I understand" and she did, no matter how much it broke her heart to think of Jake waking up alone in the hospital.

"If you leave your info with the nurse, I'll call you personally when he wakes, or any other member of his family."

He doesn't think he has any family, Penny's mind automatically corrected but she didn't bother saying it out loud. Besides, she learned many years ago that family went far beyond blood no matter what the medical world said. "Thank you Doctor, for everything."

"My pleasure and make sure Lieutenant Seresin thanks you as well. Like I said before, you saved your nephew's life today Ms. Benjamin, a few more minutes out there and we would be having a very different conversation."

She shuddered but gave her thanks anyway before turning back to her waiting room seat. She knew she had hours to kill before Jake would be up and she could see him so Penny took out her phone and scrolled to Pete’s name. She knew she needed to call the man, knew that the minute he heard something was wrong with one of his pilots he would want to be informed and be there. She wondered for a moment if perhaps she was overstepping until she remember Jake’s sad words in the car. This was a man who thought he was alone in the world and even worse, he thought he deserved to be alone in the world. He thought of himself as a killer for doing his job and pathetic for not being to handle his emotions and his PTSD properly. His hyperthermia would be treated but Penny knew that Jake Seresin had a much longer road to recovery once he was discharged from the hospital. Penny knew that she, Maverick, Rooster and the rest of the Daggers would be there for him every step of the way. They were a family now and that’s what family does.

Her mind made up, Penny hit the call button and brought the phone up to her ear, ready to call on the reinforcements.

#top gun maverick #glen powell #jake seresin #top gun hangman #top gun #top gun fanfiction #maverick #top gun movie #penny benjamin #dagger squad #daggermom #mavdad #pete maverick mitchell #jake seresin fanfiction #whump #jake seresin whump #jake hangman seresin #penny benjamin cares for her Daggers #just lots and lots of angst #hurt/comfort

[whumptober]

Meet The New Mods

Thank you very much for the warm welcome! To begin we’d like to say a very big thank you to mods Pan and Claire, as well as Jo, Marie and Kat, for their hard work in creating and continuing the event for six years — especially with how big the community has become! We have a momentous job ahead of us when it comes to modding the community and running the event as well as they did, but we are determined and up for the challenge.

So perhaps it’s time to introduce ourselves:

gunshou tumblr | discord | ao3

fandom old (she/her)

I’ve participated in Whumptober for a few years, although I never finished. I’m a writer who can’t write fluff to save my life; if a character isn’t going through some kind of trauma in canon I’ll make it happen in fanfic. I live with an old blind mini poodle and intense imposter syndrome. I used to mod communities on Livejournal (fandom OLD) and I’m really excited to be a part of the new mod team. Please feel free to follow and interact with me!

Surro | 21 | he/him | @promptsforyourwhumpfic

AO3: SurroWhump

Discord: surro_

🎵 - I’m Not Okay (Chris Catalyst) and Will of the People (Muse)

I've been lurking in the whump community since 2017, and have been a whump enthusiast for as long as I can remember (seriously, all of my original characters have to had some sort of whumpy backstory). I’ve been a loyal Whumptober completionist since 2018, and have written my fair share of angst for a variety of whumpees and OCs.This is my first time being a part of a mod team, and I am really thrilled to be a part of such a big event! I look forward to working on this project and interacting with the wider community.

Kitty | she/her | @mrmustachious

AO3: TheWeatherOutside

Discord: justkitty.

Hello everyone! Those in the Whumptober discord may know me as being a mod there since last year, but if not, then hi! I have been a completionist for Whumptober every year since 2019, and it’s safe to say that the event quickly became one of my favourite times of year. I’ve been a fan of whump since well before I knew what it was, so it’s been amazing to find a community filled with so many like-minded, wonderful people creating such fantastic (and evil ;)) works. I’m so excited to be a part of the team, and I am looking forward to seeing what everyone creates this year.

Vanne | 21 | queer | she/her | @fl4tlines

AO3: savanne

Discord: v4nne

🎵: Lowlife — YUNGBLUD & Cheap Love — girli

Hiya! I’ve mainly lurked in the whump community for a while, across several different blogs. I was a Whumptober completionist in 2021 on an old blog, but I haven’t completed it since! I mainly write OC whump, with more focus on emotional suffering compared to the physical elements. Outside of whump, I volunteer and run a wildlife rehabilitation unit, work in retail and keep the ADHD goblin in my head happy by cycling through an endless list of other hobbies like graphic design, wildlife photography and traveling for gigs. I’m really looking forward to helping put together Whumptober this year and being a part of it!

#whumptober #meet the mods

[maesphantoms]

Breathless (Simon 'Ghost' Riley, John 'Soap' MacTavish, GN! Reader Plationic)

Warnings: Takes place during the mission 'Alone', talks of blood, injury, and death. Gunshots and knives. Medical and military inaccuracy.

Genre: Angst/Whump

Word Count: 5,511

I basically got up gameplay of this mission and ran through it so there is a lot of dialogue from the actual mission. Feel free to ignore this if that isn't your cup of tea :D I had an idea going into this, but very quickly lost it haha I'm not very proud of it, but hey I'm rusty so what can I expect?

Not proofread

For once in what feels like forever, Soap was finally quiet. You were sat next to him while Ghost followed Graves back to Alejandro’s base and as much as you loved the Scottish bastard, he just kept talking and teasing you. About a shot you missed or height or anything else he could think of. You could tell that it was getting on Alejandro’s nerves too, but he was far too nice to say anything to him. As for Ghost, you could tell he had checked Soap out long ago. Whenever you tried to catch his eyes in the rear view mirror you could see that he was far away in his mind, distracted by something in his head. You’ll have to ask him what it is once you’re all settled for the night.

 

Ah….I can’t wait to shower… You thought to yourself. It had, after all been a very tiring day. It’s not everyday that you get to blow up an oil rig. Especially one with a missile. Admittedly, yes, Soap and Graves did all the work in the ACTUAL blowing up of the thing, but hey, you and Ghost did a damn good job being a part of the team.

 

“Johnny…?” You heard Ghost finally speak, the first time since you all got back into the truck.

 

Raising your eyes back up the rear view mirror, you could see him trying to look at Soap but you could only see his eyes from the reflections from the headlights bouncing off the trucks in front of us. You glanced over at Soap to see him nodding off. Elbowing his side, you pointed to Ghost once Soap looked at you.

 

“You say something, L.T.?” Soap cleared his throat.

 

“Making sure you’re still breathing is all. I don’t have a good feeling..” The Lieutenant muttered the last part under his breath.

 

As if on cue, the truck in front of you pulled to a stop right outside the gates of Alejandro’s base. You all shared a look and began to get out. Graves hopped out of his own truck as some of his men began to walk towards him. Your stomach began to feel like it was filled with lead as you walked around the side of the truck to stand next to Ghost, Soap and Alejandro on the other side.

 

“What’s this?” Alejandro asked Graves, pointing to the men standing by the gate.

 

“This is the immediate future. Step away from the gate.” Graves responded, walking towards Alejandro.

 

Ghost glanced behind you as you heard the footsteps of someone walking up behind you. Your hand slowly inched towards your knife. This was going to be bad. You glanced at Ghost and both almost imperceptibly nodded.

 

“What?” Soap’s voice cut through the air. You may have wanted him to shut up in the truck, but you were happy he was talking now.

 

“You heard me.”

 

“You’re crazy, this is my base.” Alejandro motioned towards the base.

 

“It’s not a base. This is a sizable covert facility…and I admire it. So, I’m taking it.” Your hand closed on your knife, the other one forming a fist. This was going to be really bad. “You boys…and Owl.. have been relieved. Thank you for your service.”

 

“No, no, no. I don’t take orders from you.” You could feel the anger coming off Alejandro and Ghost in waves. Oh fuck, this is going to be really really bad.

You began to formulate a plan in your head. There was one man behind you and one man beside Ghost. Then from where you could see, two behind Graves. Out of your peripheral, you could see one behind Soap. You’ve seen how many men Graves could have with him so you couldn’t count on these being the only ones here. You couldn’t see on the other side of Graves’ truck and there could be more behind him. If you took the one behind you, Ghost the one beside him, you could get the ones behind Graves while Alejandro got him and Soap with the one behind him.

 

This plan could not work as the others don’t seem focused on the men as you. Except for Ghost, but you two were basically two sides to the same coin. You could communicate with just your eyes. A truly terrifying duo to be up against. As if he heard you, Ghost’s fists tightened and he followed suit in slowly reaching for his knife.

 

“What the fuck did you just say to me, pendejo…?” Alejandro began walking towards Graves, but Soap put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him,

 

“You’re out of line, Graves.”

 

“Don’t do that,” Graves stepped back and pointed a finger at Soap. Every muscle in your body was tense. “Don’t….do that. No one needs to get hurt here.”

 

“Are you threatening us?” Ghost’s voice slightly made you jump as he took half a step closer to you.

 

“Soldier, I don’t make threats. I make guarantees. So let’s not do this.” The cogs in your head were spinning at a rapid pace. Where are the weak spots in their armor? What happens if the other two don’t move as fast as you and Ghost? What if someone gets shot? Does Graves have more men posted where they can’t see?

“I’m calling Shepard.” Soap said, eerily calm, before turning around and beginning to walk towards the truck.

 

“General Shepard sends his regards.” Your veins turn to ice. Of course. Of fucking course. “He told me y’all wouldn’t take this well.”

 

“He knows about this?” Ghost sounded incredulous. All the pieces began to fall into place for you. You glared at Graves, you were going to skin the blonde bastard.

 

“He’s put me in command of this operation from here on out. So y’all need to stand down. It’s time for the pros to finish this.” Soap turned and made eye contact with you and Ghost. “And why the hell are we talking like this is some kind of negotiation? It’s NOT. I’ve got my orders and now you have yours.” Oh, you’re turning the skinny bastard into your toothpick.

 

“And who the fuck do you think you are, cabrón? My men are inside!” Alejandro yelled. The man behind you took a couple steps forward. You began to see red and your hands began to shake.

 

“I’m afraid not. Your men have been….” Graves sucks on his teeth, “Detained.” Alejandro lurches forward and gets thrown against the truck out of view. Fuck! You have to come up with a new plan….and fast.

 

“Graves, what the fuck?!” You yell.

 

Gunshots. No time to formulate a new plan. You lunge back and elbow the man behind you in the gut then stab him in his eye. Ghost shoves the man in front of him to the truck and sinks his knife in his neck as you hear Alejandro struggling. You can barely see Soap through the window holding a Shadow by the neck and shooting at Graves. Ghost pulls you to a kneel and you inch along the truck as Soap groans and falls on his back. The gunshots stop.

 

“Go Johnny, get out of there! Soap! Go!” Ghost yells beside you. You look over and see Soap get up and jump over the concrete barrier, the Shadows shooting after him.

 

“Your turn, Ghost. Go.” You whisper to him under the gunshots, pulling out your pistol.

 

“What?” He turns and looks at you.

 

“There’s not enough time. Go or I’ll kill you myself.” You push his shoulder and his eyes harden.

 

“You better come out of this alive, Owl.”

 

“That’s the idea, Lieutenant.” You smile as he runs off into the darkness just as the gunshots stop.

 

“You there, Ghost? Owl? That was a big mistake, folks. It did not have to be like this.” You heard Graves walking around the side of the truck so you made your way to the front, trying to find Alejandro. Fuck, he’s gone. “Son of a bitch… find em!” Graves yelled.

 

How the fuck were you going to get out of this situation now? You needed to distract them a little longer. You needed to find out where Alejandro is. Time to wing it.

 

“Graves! You fucked up big time, brother!” You yelled, watching the feet under the truck run to where you were. Just able to squeeze under it, you quietly and quickly moved to the middle then backed up until you could crawl under the one behind you. “I’m gonna enjoy making a rug of your scrawny ass.” You cackled.

 

“Owl…we will find you. And the two British idiots.” He mused. You continued to move around and under the trucks where they couldn’t see you. This was too easy.

 

“Oh, no you won’t. But we’ll find you. And you won’t see us until my knife is in your throat, pretty boy.”

 

You climbed on top of the truck that Graves was originally in. Grabbing a grenade of one of the dead Shadows on the way up, you whistled and as they all turned, saluted them before throwing it. Graves managed to shoot a bullet at you before running away and it found its place…somewhere around your collarbone. You bit back a screen as you ran off while it exploded. Gunshots and shouts following you.

 

 

 

Once you were sure you lost them in the woods, you began to head towards the town as that’s where you saw Soap run. You just had to hope Ghost headed the same way and neither idiot had gotten themselves killed. Every small action brought incredible amounts of pain to you, but the internal mission to find the boys overrode everything. That’s not to say you didn’t feel the pain, because you definitely did. In every single breath, every single step. You didn’t dare move your right arm.

 

As the street lights started to wash over you, you dipped into an open shop and sat down to catch your breath behind the counter. You could hear distant screaming and gunshots and had to hope it wasn’t Ghost and Soap. Bringing your left arm over your radio ripped a scream from your throat that you tried your hardest to keep quiet and you flicked through the radio channels. It was filled with random Shadow chatter. You kept flicking until you came across a familiar voice.

 

“-iper position in the church tower. Find your way there, and you might just make it. Then we can look for Owl.” You’ve never been so happy to hear the grumpy bastard’s voice.

 

“No need, Lieutenant. I’m here.”

 

“Owl!” Soap exclaimed.

 

“You injured, Owl?”

 

“Aww, look at you, Ghost. All concerned.” You teased, laying your head back against the counter. You needed to move. And soon.

 

“Answer the question, sergeant.”

 

“I caught a bullet to the collarbone. Luckily, it didn’t hit an artery.. Would’ve bled out a while back in that case.  I guess that’s what I get for giving Graves a grenade…even if the slimy bastard was able to run from it. Are either of you?”

 

“Hold on, your collarbone?!” Soap exclaimed.

 

“Very exciting, I know.”

 

“Are you alright?”

 

“Other than the potential to be bleeding into my chest cavity? Oh, I’m swell. Shall we go out for some drinks after all this?”

 

“Enough. Owl, get yourself to the church. I’ve set up a sniper point there and Johnny is on his way here. Where are you?” Ghost’s voice sounded tense.

 

“Umm…that’s a hard question. It’s some shop. I’m behind the counter right now.”

 

“Get a move on, and be careful. There’s Shadows everywhere.”

 

“Church….right.” You said, mostly to yourself. You closed your eyes and bit your lip, you pulled yourself to your feet. Even though you could now taste blood as you bit into your lip, you managed to keep quiet.

 

“Are you able to bandage yourself, Owl? Is it still in you?”

 

“No exit wound.”

 

The comms then went silent. Checking your gun, you counted how many bullets you had. Once you got yourself ready, you put your left hand over the bleeding hole and began to walk out the door. You could barely see the towers of the church over the other buildings. The screams and gunshots still far enough away that you felt comfortable running towards the gleaming building.

 

As you rounded a corner, you could see the carnage left in the wake of the Shadows. Blood and bodies filled the streets as the rain began to wash it all away. Not fast enough. Shaking your head, you attempted to focus on the mission at hand. You would get Graves for this, it didn’t matter if you had to to die as well.

 

“Graves is rounding up cops.” You heard Soap’s voice come over comms again.

 

“He’s judge, jury, and executioner now.” Ghost grumbled.

 

“Guess that’s what happens when you can’t make it in the real world. You have to kill an entire town to feel good about yourself. I can’t wait to skin the little bastard. Maybe stuff him and hang him on the wall for all of the Shadows to see.” You spit out, watching a pair of Shadows walk across an intersection in front of you.

 

“Just focus on getting to the church, Owl. Graves will get what’s coming to him soon, I can assure you of that.”

 

“You’re telling me, you see that big boy with the skull face and you’re not gonna start sweatin’?” You could faintly hear a Shadow say from nearby.

 

You smiled to yourself and continued to slowly sneak through the roads.

 

“I’m not going to see him.”

 

“You’re right, you won’t see him. It’s too late if you see him, you’re fuckin’ dead already.”

 

He wasn’t wrong. Ghost definitely was one to lurk in the shadows and take his enemies out from cover more than lunging straight into the fight. It was something you admired about him. Something you were inspired to try more. Now, you were nowhere as skilled with a throwing knife as he was, but you were able to sneak up behind enemies and slit their throat before moving onto the next. Something you’d have to put into action as you made your way through the death and blood riddled streets. You were cold and in pain. Every single breath hurt. You kept your hand on the wound as best as you could to apply pressure, pretty sure it wasn’t slowing down the bleeding. The church was still a ways away and the more you spent out in the rain, the more a sense of dread began to fill you. What if you didn’t make it…what if Soap or Ghost gets caught by the Shadows….what if YOU got caught by the Shadows…would they kill you right away or torture you to get an answer out of you as to where your companions were?

 

You shook your head again, you needed to keep your composure. Blinking the rain out of your eyes, you focused on the road ahead of you and the radio crackling in your ears as Ghost was teaching Soap about different tools and weapons he could make. Making mental notes, you kept a look out for the same things Soap kept finding. You just had to hope it would be enough.

 

“Feeling weak, are you, Johnny?

 

“A bit shaky, sir, yeah.”

 

“And you, Owl?”

 

“Never better, sir.” You grimaced as the pain flared up as if to make a point.

 

“Graves tried to kill us. Would stand to reason if you were a little off. Find a stim, it’ll give you a boost.”

 

Nodding to yourself, you began walking through a clothes store. A welcome relief away from the rain and the Shadow currently patrolling outside of it. A short break couldn’t hurt you. You needed to catch your breath. Sneaking around the counter, you found yourself in the changing room which was pitch black. Pulling yourself against the wall, you closed your eyes and focused on your breathing. How much longer could you do this…

 

Grabbing a shirt that lay discarded on the ground, you attempted to use it to stem the blood from your shoulder. Going through a mental checklist, you thought about attempting to find a needle and thread to just sew the wound shut and be done with it, but you knew that was a bad idea. Just as you mentally scolded yourself for the dumb idea, you heard a noise from the other side of the wall. Quiet footsteps, almost imperceptible with the rain pounding down outside. Pulling yourself back into a crouch, you tightly held your knife in your hand and stared at the door frame beside you. If you had to ambush the Shadow so be it. You figured he’d eventually come into the store and it appears now was the time.

 

Glaring at the door, you readied yourself to lunge at the man as soon as he walked through, but instead were shocked to see a man crouched down to the same level as you, backing his way into the dark room. He turned around and held up a bottle before sighing in relief.

 

“Owl, steamin’ Jesus you scared me.” Soap whispered.

 

You all but collapsed into the wall again. Thunder rumbled.

 

“You doin’ alright there?”

 

“Peachy.” You sounded breathless.

 

“Ghost, Owl and I found each other. They aren’t doing to hot by the looks of it.”

 

“Copy. Hurry and get here the both of you, and then we can find some help. Keep your head level, Owl, we need you.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Once again, you pulled yourself into a crouch and nodded at Soap while he began to search the room for anything of use, something you hadn’t gotten to yet. He could grab everything for all you cared. You just needed to get to the church. Let Soap do all the crafting he wanted.

 

Soap nodded to you when he was ready to once again ready to move. You both walked out the end of the hall where the changing room was which lead to what was obviously a backroom to the store. A dead Shadow sat against a wall next to a window, knife sticking out of his neck.

 

“Ghost, you missing a knife..?”

 

“Several.” You could practically hear the smirk. Laughing breathlessly, you shook your head.

 

“Think we found one.”

 

“Some of the dead Shadows are my handiwork.”

 

“You came through here?” Why is it getting more difficult to talk? Soap glances at you.

 

“On my way to the church.”

 

“And you left us?” Soap sounded hurt.

 

“I’m used to working alone.”

 

“So much for no man left behind.” You muttered.

 

“Just get yourselves to the church. Tryin’ to keep you two alive and get you here in one piece. One of us needs to survive and tell the tale.”

 

“Takin’ a shine to us then?” Soap teased, elbowing you to which you glared at him. He put his hands up in an apology.

 

“Not in the slightest. Still got a lot of ground to cover.” The radio crackled to silence.

 

“That’s that, I guess.” You laughed.

 

“Let’s get to work. Go through the window, I’ll be right after you.” Soap gestured to the broken window beside you.

 

Taking a breath, you readied yourself and jumped through the broken glass and landed on your feet with a low grunt. You could faintly hear a Shadow giving a sit rep to his radio. They hadn’t found any of you and were slowly getting more and more on edge. Much like you felt. Your nerves felt electrified. Sure, you’ve been on some shitty missions, but nothing like this. Nothing with this big of a toll. The screaming and gunshots were slowly quieting down. They were running out of townsfolk to slay, which meant they would be on guard much more now that they didn’t have any other targets to keep track of. You couldn’t see the church from where you were, but you hoped it was closer.

 

Soap followed behind you and spotted a crate at the end of the little alley you two were in. You both walked over to it and he opened it while you were keeping a lookout. Your hand was aching from how tight you held your knife, your gun sitting heavy in it’s holster.

 

“Seek and ye shall find.”

 

“Whatchya got?” You heard Ghost’s voice again.

 

“Black powder.” Soap began to put together a mine.

 

“Nice. This could get interesting.”

 

“God, am I happy you’re trained in that shit.” You gestured to him.

 

“As am I.” Soap smiled, widely. “Lt. About to play rough with the Shadows.”

 

“I like the sound ‘o that.” You raised your eyebrows at the tone of his voice.

 

“Fashioned a trip mine.”

 

“A man after my own heart.”

 

“Thought you’d like that.”

 

“You thought right.”

 

You stared at Soap in shock. Well all right then… For the third time, you had to shake your head to focus. You’d never get over how they jokingly flirt with each other in the face of danger. The first mission you did with them had you struggling not to laugh at how effortlessly they would fall into doing it. Ghost acted like he hated everyone, but you could tell that he and Soap were close friends.

 

“Oh, don’t let me distract you from getting to your boyfriend. By all means, lead the way Johnny.” You teased.

 

Soap shook his head and laughed before beginning to walk towards the other end of the alley and took out the Shadow you had heard talking earlier. You hung back a little and let him take him down. Looking through the different doorways you had passed in case he had any buddies with him.

 

“Killed a Shadow.”

 

“Nice.”

 

“Took his gun.”

 

“Good work. Moving up in the world, Johnny. Choose your shots and targets wisely, Johnny. Guns make noise.”

 

“I could’ve given you mine if you wanted it.” You walked into one of the open doors and spotted another dead Shadow.

 

Walking back into the alley, you let Soap take the lead again. Once the other Shadows in the area found the body, Soap looked at you before throwing a smoke bomb and you both ran forward and took out one of them and as you were pulling your knife out of the one you got, Soap got the last one. You bent over and attempted to catch your breath. A wave of nausea hit you out of nowhere. Soap grabbed your arm but you waved him off and stood up. How fucking far was this damn church?

 

Once you looked passed the Shadows you noticed a balcony that you had to jump off of. This would be fun. Steeling yourself, you leapt and landed on your feet with a slight slide with the slippery ground.

 

“It’s pishin it doon oot here.” You heard Soap say as he landed beside you. You just looked at him, confused.

 

“Speak English.” Ghost’s deadpan voice made you laugh.

 

“It’s rainin’ fuckin’ hard.” Soap sassily responded, making you snort.

 

“Then say so.”

 

“I did!” Soap raised his hands up in exasperation.

 

“Rain’s good. It’ll cover your tracks.”

 

“Covers theirs too..”

 

“Let’s worry about you two, Johnny.”

 

“So you do like me?” You teased.

 

“I like you alive.”

 

You laughed again then turned to open a door, Soap immediately pulling you to a stop. Turning to look in the door you saw a shotgun pointed straight at you. Backing up, you silently thanked Soap. You once again tried to catch your breath as Soap went around and disarmed the trap you nearly walked into. Absentmindedly, you put your good hand on your chest, you couldn’t tell if it was from the gunshot or if something else was wrong. Your chest hurt.

 

“Come on in, Owl.” Soap said, holding the shotgun. “Ghost, found a tripwire rigged up to a shotgun. Disarmed it. Took the gun.”

 

“Open hearts and minds with it, Johnny.”

 

As soon as you walked through the threshold of the doorway you heard a distant banging. You and Soap made eye contact and he headed up the stairs holding out the shotgun. Putting your pain aside, you followed him, knife tightly clenched again. At the top of the stairs, you were greeted with a long hallway, the door at the end being the source of the banging. It echoed loudly down the hall and, admittedly, made you jump slightly every time it came. Your mind was immediately filled with the images of zombie movies and how there’s always a scene like this. The survivors in a dark and spooky hallway while a zombie banged on the door, waiting until they put their guard down to smash through it and eat them. Your hair was already standing on end when the British bastard’s voice spoke through the radio again, making you jump and quietly curse him out.

 

“Johnny… Graves is burning the midnight oil to find us..why?”

 

“Graves and Shepard are both involved. No matter what, this is an unprecedented amount of fuckery.”

 

“We need to get to the bottom of it.” You chimed in, you didn’t know if it was your fear and mental image of a zombie on the other side of the door or whatever the fuck was going on with your chest, but you couldn’t get a deep breath in.

 

You were a hardened soldier and here you are, terrified of a fictional movie trope. Soap turned and looked at you again as you struggled to breathe in. Waving your hand, you two continued to look through the small house as the banging on the door continued.

 

“Accurate and deadly fire tends to resolve those things. Right now, we’re not safe here.”

 

“Right now, we’re not safe anywhere, L.t.”

 

As you rounded a corner, you saw a shadow on the wall the looked as if someone had been speared through and left there. Once again, your hand flew to your chest as you struggled to breathe, the thought of zombies came back. Forcing yourself to round the corner, you saw one of those stupid boxing toys next to the home’s…previous tenant.

 

“Owl, what is with you?” Soap asked, walking over when he heard you wheeze while trying to gain your breath.

 

“I’m fine.” You waved him off again, but this time he finally walked over and made you sit down against the wall so he could look at your wound. The bleeding had slowed with the shirt you used earlier, but still oozed when he untied it from around your shoulder.

 

“We need to hurry.” He muttered to himself. “You ready to head out now?”

 

“Only if you go first because my mind is convinced that THAT,” You pointed to the door as it banged again. “Is a zombie ready to eat us.”

 

“What the fuck?” Soap laughed at you as he retied the shirt.

 

“I don’t fucking know, man. Maybe it’s the blood loss. Because that screams zombie movie. Oh god. What if this is how we found about the apocalypse, on the run from Graves? That’d be horrible.” You winced as he tightened the shirt and made it into a makeshift sling.

 

“L.t., you hear this shit?” Soap asked, laughing again.

 

All you got in response was a grunt. Soap pulled the shotgun back into his hands and started to head to the door. You bit your lip as you steadied yourself. In the end, the cause of the noise would haunt you far more than any zombie. As soon as Soap turned the knob, a man fell through it and reached his bloody hand towards you two while dragging in a raggedy breath before going limp and lifeless.

 

“Poor bastard..” You whispered, stepping around him.

 

“Owl, over here. Found adrenaline stims.” Soap ushered you over to a nearby crate, making you tear your eyes off the dead man.

 

For the first time since you met up with Soap, your hand loosened around the knife. Your knuckles screamed as you put it down to grab the stim. Both of you nodded at each other and injected it.

 

“Good mornin’ Mexico..” Soap grinned.

 

The surge of adrenaline in your body made you forget about the tightness in your chest for a little while. You followed Soap into the next building, a coffee shop with a broken railing. Once again, the two men started their banter and you just laughed at them.

 

“The mask, take it off.”

 

“Show my face?”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

“Negative.”

 

“Are you ugly?”

 

“Quite the opposite.”

 

“I doubt that.”

 

Soap helped you jump down onto the 1st floor and then you heard Shadows talking. The both of you went back into a crouch and you pointed the men walking around outside the window and Soap looked at you and pointed to the open door then put his finger up to his lips.

 

“Johnny, the town’s full of tunnels.” Ghost’s voice crackled over the radio once more.

 

Slowly, you and Soap began to take out the Shadows one at a time. When the last one went down, you winced and adjusted your arm in the sling. Soap looked at you as your wheezing became louder. He knew something was wrong, but you two needed to get to Ghost. You just needed to last a little longer then once you were all out of this situation, then he’d interrogate you.

 

The rain continued to pound on you both as you made your way to the tunnels, taking down Shadows whenever you had the chance. Soap continued to craft different mines, molotavs, and pry tools. Eventually, you two landed in the freezing water and began to make your way through it. You tried to fight your teeth chattering as you were slowly overtaken by a bone deep chill. The water you walked through had blood mixed into it. From you, Soap, or the carnage you’d never know. Probably a mix of the above.

 

As you two climbed up the stairs out of the tunnel, you were never so happy to see a fucking building. But of course, it’s blocked off. Never the easy way. You and Soap began to make your way through different shops, the adrenaline in your system almost depleted. Just a quick break. You just needed a quick break and then you could keep going.

 

You leaned against the wall as you saw Soap head for the door. He pulled on it and noticed it was locked so as he pulled out on of his homemade pry tools, you tried to say something to him. Tried to tell him to wait so you can catch your breath. You just needed to catch your breath and you’d kill all the Shadows that hunted you three. Nothing came out. A deep exhaustion came over you. You were cold and you were tired. And fucking hell did your chest hurt.

 

Everything moved in slow motion. Soap got the door open, but then was on the ground with a gun pointed at his face. You could faintly hear Graves voice on the Shadow’s radio. Reaching for your gun, you could barely raise it before the Shadow was dead.

 

“Holy hell, Ghost was that you?”

 

“Who else? Now go.”

 

Soap turned around to look at you and you could immediately see the panic on his face. Your eyes were half closed and a faint whistling was all that was your breathing. Guilt immediately started to overcome him. He should’ve stopped you earlier when he heard you wheezing. You could see him talking, but all you could hear was your heartbeat and your breathing. Suddenly, more Shadows started coming in and you did your best to shoot them, Soap put his hands around your waist and pulled you up. Pain shot through your entire right side. And then you two were running. You’d be lying if you completely knew where you were going. The world seemed to blink in and out of existence.

 

Whatever flashes you would get confused you. You were outside, then inside, then outside again. A large iron fence. Ghost was suddenly next to you. Then you were sitting in a truck. The truck slammed through barbed wire. Soap was undoing the sling again. Finally, your consciousness slipped through your fingers like sand and you were falling.

 

 

 

It felt like someone was sitting on your chest. You groaned as you opened your eyes. Immediately, you felt a hand on yours. Blinking away the bleariness from your eyes, you turned and looked to see Soap standing there. Ghost not too far behind him. You were clearly in a hospital.

 

“It wasn’t a zombie, was it?” You whispered to Soap.

 

He shook his head and laughed weakly.

 

“Damn. That would’ve been a good way to go.”

 

“Collapsed lungs and blood loss not good enough for you?” Ghost piped in.

 

“Hell no.” You smiled, “At least Graves didn’t get what he wanted. I bet he’s pissed.”

 

“You know it.”

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #ghost x reader #soap x reader #modern warfare x reader #maesphantoms

[shehungthemoon]

Just dumping my Ina Paha thoughts here. 🙃

First of all I did NOT know it was the 100th episode going into this, so i was very confused watching the montage at the end lol

I also had to click out and make sure I didn't click the wrong episode when the Pilot started playing at the beginning. When I heard Danny's voice on the phone instead of Hesse's I swear I got whiplash

It's filmed so well (bar where they reshot the pilot where Steve gets Danny on the phone instead of a dead dad, in which they literally forgot to put the same filter over the scene to make the stitching coherent) and I absolutely love the camera work they did with the white-room and the video projections. It felt very much a level above normal network television cinematography, especially the parts where Steve's going in and out of the hallucinations.

Steve finally FINALLY killing Wo-Fat was so cathartic, it should have happened ages ago but I'm willing to look past all the dumb ways he survived just to allow this incredible ending to his story.

Ina Paha gave me Kono doing... this. I owe Grace Park my whole life. Pls costuming department put her in hot pink again 💗

yes, it was a Steve episode. but Danny REALLY shone, first as the only resident Actual Detective figuring out what happened to Steve by the tire-tracks, rampaging through the compound steadily and efficiently and knocking people off without a pause, and then in Steve's mind shooting Hesse's kneecaps off?!?!?! That was CRAZY and probably not suppose to be as hot as it was and definitely made me want an ex-mobster AU immediately. Basically I have a competency kink and really like badass!danny shit 😊

Seeing Chin's long hair again made me swoon

My jaw dropped when I saw Jenna! I think it's really interesting that Steve still thinks of her so much, and I was surprised that she showed up in both the actual dreams and the montage. I definitely underestimated how much she impacted Steve's life, it seems, and I hate that we'll never hear him address that and we'll only know about it inadvertently like this.

(hand over the heart for how lori got like. one team shot. poor girlie.)

⭐I took the montage at the end as being flashbacks and memories that Steve was having as he left the compound. Looking at it through that lens certainly makes one unwell.

Obligatory squeal for Adam appearing just to save the day :))) look below to see the love of my life! :)))))) ⬇⬇⬇

Of course, the obligatory mcdanno bullet(s). It writes itself! The way Danny said Steve's name so small and broken when he found him. The way they look at each other on the ground, the pain their faces. I need an official apology statement from Scott and Alex for it. Can we talk about what flashes by during the montage at the end? (IMO it being Steve's memories.) So much Danny.

The first thing is Danny and Steve's first meeting. Jfc. The showrunners milk it SO MUCH and who's complaining

The big, rocking hug. The hands clasping underground. Gracie of course. And then Danny collapsing from the bioweapon, which to be honest I was NOT expecting to see at all--it felt like a genuinely strange choice to include in there and it really ONLY makes sense if you go along with all that being what Steve's remembering. Even then, I was surprised to see it, so basically this is Hawaii Five-Oh making mcdanno gayer than even I was wanting them to be. Steve still thinks about that? From so long ago? Even with so many other close calls in between then and now? Good fucking lord ok then loverboy that's WILD. Canon accepted ig this show is just pure whump.

Danny goes through all of this just days after losing his brother and killing Reyes. JFC can we please address that. I need a 30k introspection fic to let me into this man's mind rn.

The Wo Fat v.s. Steve fight at the end was INCREDIBLE. I would love to give the choreographer's hand a shake, it's some of the best work I've seen on television in a long time. It was impressive for a procedural like this. It was long and physical and you truly didn't know what the outcome was going to be; it everything that their built-up relationship deserved for a conclusion. It also happening with a Steve coming off of hours of torture and drugging was crazy (guess we finally know who would win a PVP if they were both at full strength!). That being said I was really impressed with Wo Fat's capabilities and physical prowess, I was not expecting it to be so even and close to the line. I actually jumped when Steve LIFTED him up into the lighting fixture. We do not talk about Steve's (Alex's???) raw upper-body strength enough.

Anyway. Electricity in the water play. The physicality hell that this gif below is ⬇. Fire extinguishers and loaded needles. Crazy martial arts. Chair and buckets (holy shit did y'all see the force with which Wo Fat SHOT that bucket?????) flying. All's fair. I loved it.

The shot going right through the forehead, clean. I don't know how to put into words why that's so monumental to me but it is.

The mystery bad lady was SO intriguing, I wish we got more from her... How does she know Wo Fat? Why was she entrusted with all that information on him and Steve and especially Doris? Absolutely where did she come from, what was her name? Why did I have a huge huge hot crush on her? All important questions. (Goes to show that h50 CAN give us some more genuine badass, not just there to date someone women characters, just explicitly choose not to. I'm holding out for Ellie to remain platonic so hard right now.)

Almost forgot Danny in that black Hawaiian shirt. Will be whimpering over that image forever. The whole episode I was trying to focus on the underlining betrayal mystery they were laying out but every time my brain started working too hard Scott with his stupid waist and those flower patterns just started flashing into my head

Again, are you seeing this:

I'm unwell and so so happy.

H50 you're a gem when you want to be.

#just a post for me really #h50 #ina paha #i like to imagine that after this danny and steve just curl up in a house with doors locked and shades shut for a week and cry on each othe #steve mcgarrett #mcdanno #hawaii five 0 #i've been going thru h50 chronologically very very slowly for years but have watched p much most of the show on reruns #but god am i so so glad that i just so happened to never catch this one. i'm so glad I watched it when it was suppose to be watched

[beckbucket]

♦ just following orders ♦ (jedi! reader x wrecker)

summary: when wrecker's chip activates on bracca, he lunges for you instead of one of his brothers

warnings/tags: angst, order 66, inhibitor chip activation, choking, crying, pain all around, jedi! reader, no use of y/n, gender neutral reader

author's note: this was heavily inspired by this post by @zoeykalluss ! i haven't written in a very, very long time... but i couldn't find any satisfactory wrecker whump, so i guess i had no choice but to write it myself ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ un-beta'd, so be kind!

Ever since the painful day that your squad of troopers turned on you, you hadn’t truly felt safe. Constantly looking over your shoulder and constantly moving forward had become the routine- until you met the boys of Clone Force 99. 

You barely escaped your ship after Order 66 with your life. After a lifetime of living on Coruscant with the Jedi Order, you found yourself on shady Ord Mantell with no credits and extensive injuries. In exchange for a discreet place to sleep, you’d agreed to research missions for Cid to pursue. Your whole body constantly ached, but it was better than having to fight for scraps in the street. She never asked you to be involved in the action. That is, until Cid suggested one day that you should travel as backup with her “team”. Funnily enough, she never actually mentioned that the team was made up of clone troopers...

When you were first introduced, you nearly bolted from Cid’s bar on the spot. Somehow, the unexpectedly kind words of their largest member somehow convinced you to stay. You honestly never thought you’d ever be able to look another clone in the eyes, let alone work a mission with them. Over time, though, you came to appreciate the many quirks of the team- especially of one batcher in particular. 

Though he looked brutish, Wrecker was the most caring soul you’d ever met. He didn’t have the exceptional intellect or enhanced senses of his brothers, but Wrecker had a special gift for reading people. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he had a midichlorian count off the charts! His joy bled over to everyone around him. After your life as a Jedi had crumbled, you finally felt hopeful. Falling in love with him followed easily. You’d agreed to join them permanently, which led to your latest mission. 

You and the other batchers tried to get some rest, while Tech piloted the Marauder down to the surface of the junk planet. You could feel Wrecker’s large form behind you in your shared bunk, strong arms curled around you. Something in the air felt off, but it wasn’t worth disturbing anyone’s sleep over. You cracked a bleary eye, and through your blurry morning vision, you could see the other batchers safely sleeping. You nuzzled back against your partner, enjoying the few quiet moments you had before the team had to move out. After all the pain that had happened in your life, Wrecker was the one person you felt truly safe with. 

Wrecker’s force signature was bright and warm, a constant anchor in the back of your mind. But since you dropped into Bracca's orbit… something felt strange in your connection. While Tech had done extensive research on the Jedi order, none of the boys really understood what it meant for you to be connected with the Force. You didn’t want to panic the team based on a hunch, so you tried to keep your feelings to yourself. Those days, with all the suffering throughout the galaxy, something always felt wrong in the Force. 

-

Hunter and Rex led your team down the dim hallways of the ship’s wreckage, Omega and Echo following close behind them. Wrecker followed up the rear of the formation due to his larger stature. Ever the gentleman, he always insisted that you stay safely in front of him. 

The sounds of your feet hitting the metal flooring was the only noise to be heard on the abandoned starcraft. Rex’s insistence that the chips needed to be removed created a tension that the group couldn’t seem to shake. The knowledge of the inhibitor chips loomed like a dark shadow over the team, just like the dark shadows obscuring the path to the ship’s medbay. 

A quiet grunt broke the silence, coming from the large man behind you. 

Every head whipped around to look at him, and Wrecker paused, rubbing the side of his head. 

“-’ts just a headache”, he awkwardly chuckled. His attempt to break the tension didn’t set anyone at ease. He’d never been much of a liar; it was clearly bothering him more than he was letting on. 

The rest of the group continued moving forward, but you paused to look back at your lover’s face. He met your eyes and tried to smile, but it was more like a grimace. Looking at his tanned face, you felt a disturbance in the Force. 

You started to speak, but the feeling was gone as quickly as it came. You wanted to wonder if it had anything to do with the inhibitor chips… but you quickly shoved that thought to the back of your mind.

"There’s no reason why the chips would suddenly engage for no reason", you thought to yourself, shaking your head. Trusting too heavily in Force visions and hunches was foolish. Wrecker’s eyebrow crooked in confusion as you hesitated, but you tried to give him a reassuring look.

Rex’s muffled voice broke your thoughts, calling you both to move forward. The rest of the team had already ventured forward to the next room. As you walked forward to cross the threshold, a cool shiver ran up your back. You tried to shake it off, and continued to rejoin the group. 

The faint red emergency lights around the floor provided just enough illumination to make out the layout of the large room. Clinical furniture and medical equipment had been toppled and cast around the room haphazardly. In the center of the room was an older med chamber, dusty but largely undisturbed. Despite the room’s eerie appearance,

Rex stopped and nodded at the group- that dusty equipment could do the job. Hunter spoke up first, his gruff voice addressing the group. 

“Which one of you wants to go first?”. A sea of awkward and anxious expressions looked around at each other. After a moment, the smallest batcher stepped forward. 

“How do we know that this surgery is safe?”, doubted Omega. 

“Just because Rex’s surgery went well doesn’t mean that you all will be okay”, she added, the worry clear in her voice. Her eyes flickered to Rex, but he didn’t provide any reassurance. 

Tech started to speak, but a low grunt interrupted him. 

All eyes were on Wrecker, who was again holding the side of his head. Unlike earlier, he remained silent, his closed eyes slightly twitching. 

You could feel the pain start to roll off him through the Force, as he held a tight grip on his head. 

“Wrecker?”, you worried, nerves creeping up into your throat. 

You took a step towards him without thinking, reaching for his face, but he didn’t move. Something was very wrong for him to be so quiet. 

You cradled the smooth curve of his jaw in your hand, running a thumb across the side of his cheek. He let out a low moan, clenching his jaw but otherwise remaining motionless. 

Suddenly, another cold chill ran up your skin. A deep sense of danger surged through the Force. It startled you into drawing your hand back, your heart jumping up into your throat. 

Louder, you tried to coax an answer out of the larger clone. 

“Wrecker…,” you ask, concern shaking your voice, “What’s wrong?”. 

Wrecker’s warm presence in the back of your mind was gone in a split second, replaced with a null, dark void. Sharp panic ran through your veins as another disturbance rippled through the Force. You stepped back, watching how Wrecker’s form became even more still. 

His vode around him tensed, watching your reactions with caution. From the corner of your eye, you could see Hunter step in front of Omega to shield her. Your clouded brain didn’t understand- what would he shield her from? 

Wrecker’s arms dropped lifelessly to his side as his eyes slid open. You could sense the other troopers starting to move, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. Those deep brown eyes that you loved had glazed over, no sign of the laughter they usually carried. 

Like a droid powering up, Wrecker straightened to his full height while looking around the room. You were reminded of just how imposing he really is, towering over you and the other clones. His gaze finally fell on you. You both stood at a standstill, a few seconds seeming like an eternity. 

Without warning, Wrecker suddenly reached for his blaster. Your breath caught in your throat, fear bubbling up in your chest. Hunter was one step ahead of him, rushing forward to pull the weapon from his hands before he could wield it against you. 

His deep voice was gruff when he grunted out against his brother, but his gaze didn’t leave you. 

“Jedi are traitors”, Wrecker growled. 

He lunged for you, but you were able to jump back just in time. Hunter called out before Wrecker could reach for you again. 

“Wrecker, stand down!”. The leader brandished his blaster, stepping forward to provide you some cover. 

“This isn’t you,” he protested. 

“That’s just the chip talking. You don’t really believe that”. The large clone hesitated at the sound of his brother’s voice. For a moment, you could feel a small flicker of Wrecker’s Force signature in the back of your mind. 

You froze, searching for any sign of the man you loved behind those dark eyes. A deep snarl cut that hope short as a warning left his mouth. 

“Good soldiers follow orders”.

--

another chapter soon to follow! please enjoy and share your thoughts :) i will finish posting this work here, then clean up the final product for ao3 :3

#wrecker x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #tbb wrecker #the bad batch #star wars #jedi!reader x wrecker #jedi!reader #my sweet baby boi #time to crush his feelings >:)

[sequinsmile-x]

Fire & Ice

The case was over, the danger was gone and they could go home and finally celebrate Christmas.

The case was over, so she'd let her defences down, not knowing that the worst was to come.

-x-

Hi friends,

I actually have no idea where this idea came from. It was meant to only be one part, but me being me I got carried away and it is now two parts. Second part will be up in the next couple of days!

As always, let me know what you think <3

-x-

Words: 2.9k

Warnings: Canon Typical Injury, Aaron Hotchner Whump

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

She had felt nothing short of an exhibit in a zoo for days. 

Every interaction she had with Aaron, no matter how small, was observed carefully by their friends. The two of them watched by everyone in the team with a critical eye, the news of their relationship still fresh to the people they considered their family.

It had ultimately been her decision to tell them. Keeping it a secret had been practical at first, it helped them navigate the journey from friends to more, but then they realised they liked it. Both she and Aaron had enjoyed the peace that had come with the secrecy of the first 6 months of their relationship, the lack of involvement from anyone other than Jack and Jessica something they had both treasured. 

She knew Aaron had wanted to tell their friends sooner than she had, his desire to share his love for her with the world clear in his eyes whenever he looked at her, but she’d been hesitant. It had taken a long time to feel like she was on even footing again after Paris, something she’s sure she would have never found if it wasn’t for Aaron, for his gentle but strong love as she came back to herself, and she didn’t want to shake the foundations again, to change the dynamic of the team once more. 

In the end, it was the idea of not being able to spend Christmas with him and Jack without it raising suspicion that had pushed her towards telling their friends. She’d always loved the holidays, a fact that had surprised Aaron when she’d talked him into decorating his apartment much earlier than he usually would, her knowledge of him and the fact he could never say no to her, especially when she was naked, something she had used in her favour. 

They told the team a few days ago, using the annual party that Dave threw as the perfect opportunity. It had gone exactly how she thought it would. 

Dave had insisted he’d known for months, JJ had smiled knowingly, Penelope had asked intrusive questions and Spencer had avoided eye contact with both of them. It was Derek whom Emily had been most worried about, his dislike of any major change and desire for the truth were two things that made her nervous.

He’d been standoffish, a tension in his frame that she’d expected but had still hurt. He’d barely spoken to her since and it made her ache. 

Ultimately, it had been for nothing anyway. They’d got a call for an urgent case on December 23rd, pulling them all out of their homes and the holiday atmosphere they’d fallen into, and they found themselves hundreds of miles away, helping a team of local detectives hunt down a serial killer who was haunting a town. The unsub was devolving at speed, which meant they knew it couldn’t wait until after the holidays. 

She was furious about it, wanting nothing more than to wake up on Christmas morning with Aaron, snuggled up against his side as Jack burst into the room, his excitement forcing him out of bed earlier than normal. Instead, they’d spent the day in a cold police station in the mid-west, sneaking away to speak to Jack on the phone instead, once again promising him they’d have Christmas when they got home. 

As annoyed as Emily was about the disruption to her plans, she knew Aaron was more upset. He always worried he was letting down his son, that Jack would look back at moments like this and feel like he’d come second to everything else. So she’d pushed her own feelings down, let them roll in her stomach, and tried to help him instead, making a point of making him smile whenever she could, of encouraging him back to their hotel room with the lumpy bed every night so they could have some time together. One advantage of everyone knowing they were together now was that they could share a room officially. He no longer had to sneak back to his room at dawn, and she could take advantage of every possible moment in his arms. 

She groans as the alarm goes off, and she screws her eyes shut, desperate to steal a few more moments of sleep. Aaron chuckles from behind her and presses a kiss to the back of her head as he leans over her to turn off the alarm.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he says, his voice thick and raspy with sleep. She loved how he sounded first thing in the morning, it was a part of him that was just for her, a part of her Aaron that she could have before he slipped on his Hotch mask for the day. 

“Let’s just stay in bed,” she replies, turning in his arms and pressing her face into his chest, hiding her smile when she feels his laugh more than she hears it, the rumble of it passing from his chest into hers, “No more work.” 

“I wish we could, Em,” he says, kissing her head before he encourages her back to look at him, his fingers tangled in her hair, “But the sooner we finish this case, the sooner we can go home and have our Christmas.” 

She hums and smiles sleepily as she looks up at him, “True,” she says, placing her hand on his cheek and tugging him in for a kiss. She sighs as she pulls back, her forehead against his as she thinks about leaving this room, the strange sanctuary they’d found between over-starched sheets and faded art on the walls. The second they were with the team again they’d be under the microscope, every little thing they did or said around each other scrutinised, “Think you can yell at the others for staring at us?” 

He laughs and kisses her nose, his smile only getting wider as she scrunches it up at him, “I think that might be an abuse of my power,” he says, stamping a kiss against her lips.

She rolls her eyes playfully, “What is the point of sleeping with the boss if he won’t yell at your colleagues for you?” She says, the end of her sentence lost to a yelp as he rolls them on the bed, his body over hers as he presses her into the mattress. 

He kisses her fiercely, his hands sneaking under her, slipping under her t-shirt that used to belong to him, his hands on her as he pulls her closer, his palms warm against her lower back, his touch something she now couldn’t live without. She kisses him back, her fingers tangling in his hair as she wraps a leg around his waist, her heel against his ass as he pulls back. She hums thoughtfully, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. 

“I guess you have your uses,” she says playfully, pushing his hair out of his face, and he shakes his head at her. 

“They aren’t that bad, Em,” he replies, his smile crooked as he looks down at her, and she raises an eyebrow. 

“That’s easy for you to say, you aren’t the one Pen sends a daily sex update request to.” 

His eyes go comically wide, “She does what?” 

She chuckles and stamps a kiss against his lips as he pulls away, sitting up next to her as she sits up too, yawning as she rolls her neck. 

“I wish I could say I’m joking,” she says as she stands up, stretching her arms over her head, smiling to herself as he watches her walk to the bathroom, his eyes fixed on her thighs, on the soft skin he’d sucked a bruise into the night before. She turns to look at him and winks as she switches on the bathroom light, “If it helps, I’m always incredibly complimentary.” 

She closes the door before he can reply, his words muffled slightly when he responds. 

“I think you know that does not help.” 

___

She’s sure she’s never seen the team quite so relieved to catch an unsub. There’s a collective sigh of relief when they get a confession, all of the work of the last few days, the time they’d all lost with their families, had at least led to something. 

She sighs as she starts to take pictures down from the board, carefully piling them in a file so they can be handed over to the prosecutor. She smiles as JJ walks over and joins her, the tension that had been in her friend's shoulders since they’d arrived nowhere to be seen. 

“What did Will say when you called?” Emily asks, her smile getting wider as JJ’s does. 

“Henry was already in bed,” JJ says, looking at her friend, “But Will said he was going to make cookies so we could ‘have a proper Christmas’ the moment I get home,” she chuckles and tilts her head at Emily, curiosity shining in her eyes, “How about Jack? Has Hotch called him?”

Emily nods, “He’s speaking to him now,” she smiles as she thinks of the little boy, her love for him nothing short of overwhelming, “I have a feeling I’ll also be talked into making cookies,” she rolls her eyes when JJ raises an eyebrow, “Fine, I’ll watch them make cookies and be the test taster.” 

JJ laughs and looks past Emily, nodding when a uniformed officer they’d been working with beckons her over. She pauses briefly next to her friend and places her hand on Emily’s shoulder. 

“You both seem really happy, Em,” she says, squeezing her shoulder, “If there’s any two people who deserve that it’s the pair of you.” 

Emily presses her lips together, a failed attempt to hide her smile, and she places her hand over JJ’s, briefly squeezing it, “Thanks JJ, that means a lot.” 

She was happy. Happier than she had ever been in her life. There were moments when it didn’t feel real, when the simplicity of the life she’d found herself felt like it was too much, like it would be snatched from her the moment the universe realised she didn’t deserve it. Sometimes, when she couldn’t sleep, she’d watch Aaron sleep, her eyes fixed on the peaceful expression on his face, another part of him just for her, and she’d feel nothing short of unworthy. 

She’d told him that once, her insecurities catching up to her and forcing her to start an argument with him that she’d regretted immediately, her instincts to ruin something before it could be ruined for her still going strong. When she’d admitted that to him, tears she’d refused to shed shining in her eyes as she told him she felt like she didn’t deserve him, all the fight had drained out of him. He’d pulled her into a hug before he cupped her cheeks and held her in place as he told her in no uncertain terms how wrong she was, how much he and his son loved her, how she had been the missing puzzle piece they’d been looking for. 

She was still learning to trust being this happy, to allow herself to feel it, but day by day it was getting easier. She saw everything with him. A house. Marriage. More kids. 

She wanted it all. 

She continues packing away all of the casework and she looks up from the board when she hears footsteps, her smile turning tight when Derek joins her, the tension immediately palpable. 

“Hi,” she says, clearing her throat as she looks back down at the papers in her hands. 

“Hi,” he replies, barely looking at her as he helps her break everything down. She sighs and shakes her head, her patience with her friend, one of her best friends, fraying after days of him barely speaking to her over nothing more than the fact she’d fallen in love. 

“Look, Derek-”

“Morgan, Prentiss,” Aaron says as he walks over, his hands on his hips as he blows out a breath, “I’ve got to go with them to book the unsub at the county jail.” 

Emily frowns as she crosses her arms over her chest, “But that’s an hour away,” she says, sighing as she steps closer to him, unable to stop herself even though they were working, “Why can’t Detective Rooney do it himself?” 

Aaron’s jaw tightens at the mention of the lead detective they’d been working with since they arrived. He was a good man, but in over his head, the serial killer that had torn through his hometown at Christmas the biggest case he’d ever handled. 

“He’s asked for my support,” he says, a wry smile flashing across his face. She sighs, the thought of being here, of delaying going home for any reason, enough to make her chest feel tight again. Aaron notices, because he always noticed everything about her, determined never to let anything slip by him again, her fake death something that still weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he steps forward. He doesn’t touch her, won’t cross that line here, but he does get close enough that she can smell him, his presence enough to ease some of the tension that had started to build back up. He smiles at her, a soft thing reserved for her and Jack, “It’s only another couple of hours,” he says, “Then we’ll be on our way home, I promise.” 

She nods, biting the inside of her cheek as she fights a smile, “Yeah,” she replies, tightening her hold on her triceps so she doesn’t reach out and touch him, “We’ll be home soon,” she says, smiling at him before she steps back, “Be careful, the roads will be icy.” 

“I’m always careful,” he replies, winking at her before he turns away and she shakes her head at him. 

She only looks away when he’s out of her sight and she freezes when she sees Derek staring at them, a stern expression painted across his face. She shakes her head and clenches her teeth as she steps towards him, avoiding eye contact as she goes back to her task. 

“I get it was a shock,” she says, not looking at him as she finishes up packing the first of the boxes, “And I’ve put up with you being standoff-ish for days,” she looks at him, her eyes fierce “But I’d like it if you could get your head out of your ass soon, and just be pleased that your friends have finally found happiness after everything,” she lifts the box off of the table between them, “This isn’t some fling, I love him. He loves me, so get over yourself.”

She walks away, and she makes a point of not looking back.

___

Aaron sighs as he checks his watch, any hope of getting home before the sun rises fading with each passing second. They were on their way back from the county jail, the unsub successfully handed over, and the drive home was dragging out longer than the drive out there had. 

“Keen to get home?” 

He smiles tightly as he turns to look at Detective Rooney and then nods as he looks back at the road, his hands tight on the steering wheel, the bad weather making it harder to drive than usual.

“Yeah,” Aaron replies, a smile flicking onto his face as he thinks of his son, “My son, Jack, said he’d wait to open all his presents until we got home, he’ll be so excited he’ll be bouncing off the walls.” 

“We?” Detective Rooney asks, his eyebrow raised, and Aaron fumbles for a second, realising he’d slipped up, before the other man laughs, “We all knew you were with Agent Prentiss the moment you scowled at one of my men for flirting with her.” 

Aaron clears his throat, trying to push his embarrassment back down, “Well, I appreciate you not saying anything when we were working the case, we try our best to be professional,” he says, his smile tight as he tries to change the subject, “Do you have a family?” 

Detective Rooney smiles widely, “A wife and three girls,” he says, patting his pockets to try and pull out his wallet, “I have photos somewhere, our youngest is only just a year old so this was her first Christmas,” he looks in the back seat and sees where he’d thrown his wallet when they got back in the car, “There it is,” he says, unhooking his seatbelt as he leans back to get it, “My wife was furious I was working, but I told her this is the kind of case that makes or breaks a career-”

His words are cut off by the screech of the tires, the car moving of its own accord as they hit a patch of ice. 

It takes a matter of seconds, but it feels like an eternity, everything slowing down around them as Aaron does his best to gain control of the car again. It feels like it’s floating, any grip the tires may have had long gone as the car spins out of control. 

The car leaves the road and goes down a hill, time only speeding back up as it hits a tree, the bonnet crumbling around wood as if it was made of paper. 

Aaron hits his head hard on the steering wheel, his world narrowing down to the pain in his forehead, the way he feels immediately dazed.  His last conscious thought is of Emily and Jack, and of the promises he might not be able to keep. 

-x-

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#hotchniss #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #emily prentiss #emily prentiss fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fan fic #aaron x emily #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #Aaron hotchner whump

[scrimblobimblowhump]

what a niche whump thing you enjoy?

hi, hello, sorry for replying to this so late but thank you so much for the ask!

here’s some niche tropes i love (some are more hyperspecific than specifically niche but you get the spirit)

oxygen masks! everything about them!! the way the fog up and obscure whumpee's face, making their status as Sick Person faster noticed than their individual personhood; the way they muffle whumpee's voice when talking, especially if they're very weak; as a matter of fact, i'm also feral about them being gently instructed not to talk while on oxygen; all these are even better when you make whumpee all sleepy and delirious on top of everything

warm compresses! we all know and love cool cloths for fevers and whatnot, but i see little appreciation for the toasty ones which is a shame because warmth is something so comforting and kind; speaking of compresses, i also have an oddly hyperspecific liking for when they're put not only over the forehead but also the eyes; also when the cloth catches some of the bang hairs underneath it>>; also consider all that but with whumpee being bathed and caretaker gently putting a warm water-soaked washcloth over their eyes MMM YEAH.

whumper being gentle and kind. and I don't even mean necessarily in a "creepy comfort" kind of way(though that smacks too) - more like, despite being a whumper, they're kind, patient and empathetic towards whumpee's struggle (even if a lot of it was inflicted by whumper themselves). what perfectly evokes that vibe i'm thinking of is that post.

whumpee falling asleep in a warm bath post-rescue. what else can i say

man, something about *professors* in whump. creepy genius lecturer who does unethical experiments or is a serial killer, maybe their whumpee is a helpless student... on the flipside, consider professor whumpee - something about someone smart, fortified in their ivory tower, perhaps emotionally detached, getting their absolute shit rocked; also consider a hurt/comfort scenario where they get cared for by another academic fellow or even a student (live laugh love role reversal). what about caretaker professors - imagine them being very gentle and protective over their students, perhaps caring for them like their own children when sick or otherwise Woed in some way.

doctors, anatomy lecturers, surgeons and such as serial killers!! or maybe torturing someone!! they're skilled with the knife, know all the ins and outs of the human body and use the knowledge they were given for the sake of good to be evil instead.

as mentioned above - role reversals!!! one of my favourites is doctor-turned-patient: they can understand exactly what's happening to them and how they'd treat it but now they're forced to put their life in the hands of others just like countless people put theirs in their hands (even better if their medical team is made up of colleagues - consider the possibility of them being cared for by friends or workplace rivals<33)

grief as emotional whump!!whumpee struggling to get out of bed and take care of themselves,the sheer trauma of it all, being constantly panicked, angry and depressed, the possibility of developing complex grief/PTSD(with all the tasty symptoms)

kind resraints <33 having to tie up a traumatised, overwhelmed whumpee after rescue because in their blind panic they keep on trying to elope or hurt themselves and others, maybe even gagging them so that they can't bite; reassuring them that it's for their own good and because caretaker(s) loves them; caretaker ensuring to restrain them as loosely and gently as possible, using the softest of cloth; also caretaker being absolutely heartbroken seeing them like that and feeling unbearably guilty that they have to do it

blanket burritos!! plz i need more content of whumpees being swaddled and cuddled till all their anxiety or chills or pain or anything leaves them as they drop into deep sleep

as a matter of fact,in hurt/comfort we also need a loooot more non-sexual direct skin contact. not just as means of emergency rewarming in case of hypothermia but generally for the sake of comfort and closeness

something about passive voice..."they were"+choked", "tied up", "dragged", "sedated", "held", "cleaned up", "warmed", "cuddled"...

this is extremely obscure but you know how sometimes in movies ,when captive whumpee is gagged with a cloth or something, by the pattern of the fabric you can tell that it was something random like a kitchen towel grabbed on the go? yeah...(esp in a domestic whump scenario); also when said cloth (or maybe also even the ones used for the ropes) is torn from whumpee's own clothes? good shit (something like that happens in the green knight, this movie is peak whump, h/c and angst material, begging y'all to watch it)

SCHOOL/CAMP BULLIES!!!!! love the trope of some poor nerd being used for some abusive prank. even better if a teacher is caretaker afterwards

in film: that dim, orange-ish lighting when we get a shot of restlessly asleep feverish whumpee in bed

ive made a post about this already but: whumpee with long, luscious hair getting it agressively chopped off(with a knife, even??) by their enemies when they're captured to humiliate them

caretaker calling whumpee “buddy”

whumpee's parent being caretaker!! imagine them gently caring for a delirious whumpee who clings to them, weakly calling out "mom/dad?". even better if whumpee is a grown adult now; just as good - whumpee's parent being their whumper! (maybe even the actual archenemy/villain of whumpee if they're a hero). imagine them torturing them and whumpee crying out "mom/dad, you're hurting me!" again, even better if whumpee is all grown up.

lmao this turned out RIDICULOUSLY long, im sorry if its incoherent, its 3am here and i power through by the force of a chocolate bar and the will of god. anyways, i hope you enjoyed, if anyone writes something inspired by these tropes plz plz share with me, id eat that shit up.

(everyone plz keep on sending me asks, answering them is so fun<33)

#whump #whump prompts #ask answered

[chaotic-orphan]

Febuwhump: day twenty-five

Prompt — waterboarding ( @febuwhump prompts)

PLEASE BE WARNED THAT THIS SNIPPET IS VERY GRAPHIC, VERY TRIGGERING FOR CHOKING, SUFFOCATING AND GENERALLY VERY DARK!

TW: waterboarding (VERY DETAILED) interrogation, team Whump, leader whumpee, interrogator Whumper, nonchalant torturer, traumatic event, suffocating, choking, gagging, vomiting, spewing, dissociation

PLEASE AGAIN READ THE TAGS MIND THE WARNINGS

Henchmen led Whumper down into the basement where they held the Hero team. Whumper followed, hands in the pockets of their black combats, eyes skimming the cold stone walls as they waited for Henchmen to open the door.

“Supervillain said they refuse to talk,” said Henchmen to Whumper, looking back over their shoulder at them and frowning. “Said you’re the best interrogator in the city.”

“Yeah?” Whumper asked, tilting their head, tone bored. “High praise from Supervillain.”

“You don’t look like a good interrogator.”

Whumper let out a small hmph of a laugh which Henchmen went pale at. “I— I mean, it’s just— you’re young. You look younger than me.”

“Looks can be deceiving,” said Whumper with a shrug, half lidded eyes on Henchmen and the door. “I get paid hourly, so if you want Supervillain to pay me more, which I would appreciate—”

Henchmen shook their head and turned their attention back to the lock. “Right sorry.”

Whumper leaned their back against the wall and repressed a sigh. They weren’t a very patient person, which probably came with the job description but how many times had they had this same conversation with other employers.

The lock finally clicked and Whumper pushed off the wall, grabbing the door as they passed Henchmen. They met Henchmen’s eyes, looking up at them with the same blank expression they usually wore.

“Listen, henchmen, it gets pretty bleak when I’m interrogating. You sure you can stomach it?”

Henchmen nodded, though their face expressed their hesitance. “Supervillain said I had to accompany you.”

Whumper blinked, then glanced back at the stairs up to Supervillain’s house before sighing.

“Fine. If you want to impress him so damn much.”

Henchmen blushed, flustered. “I— I—”

Whumper was already walking down the stairs to the Hero team, ignored Henchmen’s embarrassment.

“You coming or what, sycophant?”

“Uh, yes!” Henchmen said and closed the door after them.

Whumper stood at the gate of the powered cell, frowning at the Hero team inside. Their eyes passed over each of them, Whumper knew some of them from the news. Especially the tallest one, Leader. One look at them and Whumper knew they wouldn’t talk if Whumper broke every bone in their body. The rest of them… well, Whumper had more faith in their own talents than the other member’s resilience.

Whumper’s eyes landed on a familiar face sitting furthest from the door, their lips twitching as they met Rogue’s eyes from across the room. Henchmen was getting to work opening the gate when Rogue spoke.

“Whumper?” Rogue asked, their voice a mix of confusion and fear. The rattle of chains as Rogue shifted forwards in the dimly lit cell, squinting.

“Hey, Rogue. Funny meeting like this, huh? How have you been?”

“Good,” said Rogue in that same guarded tone.

“Rogue?” Leader asked. “Who is this?”

“An old friend,” said Rogue, swallowing, their eyes going back to Whumper as Henchmen opened the gate and Whumper stepped through. “We grew up in the same neighbourhood.”

“Mmm,” Whumper hummed fondly. “In the Grouts of the city, eh, Rogue? How’s your mum?”

“She’s good.”

Whumper smiled. “Good, good. Tell her I say hi. She’s a lovely woman.”

“I will.”

“Good to see you, I hope you know this is all just business,” Whumper said gesturing to the cell and themselves with their hand.

“You don’t have to hurt us.”

Whumper’s smile melted from their face, eyebrows raising. “Oh? Your team are all loose lips, huh? You’ll just tell me about Superhero and his secret weapon?”

Rogue went quiet, so did the rest of the cell. A humourless smile crept onto Whumper’s face. “Yeah… I didn’t think this job would be that easy.”

“What do you want?” Leader asked. Whumper flicked their gaze to Leader who was on his knees, hands cuffed to a ring in the wall behind him like the rest of the Hero team. Yikes, what kind of sicko was Supervillain to have metal rings embedded in stone? Whumper supposed it didn’t matter.

“I want to get paid,” said Whumper, stretching their arms above their head. “Ugh, then I want to go home and watch TV. That sound good to you, heroes?”

“I think he meant… like what do you want with them,” said Henchmen quietly to Whumper. Whumper frowned and made a verbal “huh!” in exclamation.

“I just told them,” said Whumper. “Supervillain wants information on Superhero’s secret weapon, I’m here to get that information and get paid.”

Leader curled his lip back into a snarl. “Good luck with that.”

Whumper shrugged. “Thank you, Leader. However I am a professional, I don’t need luck. I’m trained to get stoic people chatty.”

“You really think Supervillain hasn’t tried? Torturing us, depriving us of food and water? Leaving us down here to starve and then when that didn’t work going back to torturing us? We’re built to endure,” said Leader with a mirthless smirk. “We don’t break.”

Whumper nodded. “Okay. We can do this the hard way then.”

Whumper turned to henchmen and asked them to grab a cloth and a hose to attach to the tap. “Oh, and a chair, please, henchmen.”

Henchmen left the room, their footsteps ascending was the only sound permeating the cell. Whumper walked over to the girl sitting directly opposite Leader. The only person on the Hero team that Whumper didn’t recognise. Maybe a new recruit? Leader lurched forward, but Whumper just cocked an eyebrow at Leader.

“What’s your name?” Whumper asked her. “This isn’t the interrogation yet, don’t worry. You don’t have to tell me. Just trying to diffuse the tension.”

Whumper looked at Rogue who kept their eyes trained on Whumper. “How long have ye been down here?”

“A while,” Rogue told them with a huff.

Whumper nodded. “Supervillain really starve all of you?”

“Yeah,” said Rogue, a little sheepishly.

“Nothing you’re not used to,” said Whumper with a little laugh. Rogue joined in, although a bit awkwardly. Whumper’s eyes scanned the other people in the room who looked a bit dazed at the flyaway comment. Then they reclined their head against the wall. “Oh. Sorry. You never told them.”

“It’s okay,” said Rogue with a shrug. “They were bound to find out eventually.”

Whumper nodded again. Then let out a sigh. “You don’t want to tell me Superhero’s plan, do you? Save you all some suffering.”

Rogue laughed. “Not a chance.”

“Well, god loves a trier.”

The door to the basement creaked open and Henchmen came down the stairs and left all the things Whumper asked for at the front of the cell, near the gate. “Ah. Wonderful. Thank you henchmen.”

Whumper stood in front of the team of heroes and cleared their throat while Henchmen attached the hose to the leaky tap.

“Okay. For my first trick, I need a volunteer. Leader?” Whumper asked with a smile. Leader scoffed but nodded. “Sure.”

“Excellent.”

Henchmen freed Leader from the wall, the cuffs staying on and led Leader over to chair that Whumper stood at.

“Sit down,” said Whumper. Leader obliged them, and Whumper grabbed Leader’s arms and brought them up over the back of the chair. It was all very gentle, very professional, as if Whumper wasn’t trying to hurt Leader. It sent warning bells off in Leader’s head, but all he could do was follow along with what Whumper was doing.

Henchmen handed Whumper another pair of handcuffs and Whumper thanked them. Whumper attached one of the cuffs to Leader’s cuff chain, and the other to the chair so Leader couldn’t move his hands away.

“Henchmen will you get the legs?”

“Of course.”

Before long Leader’s ankles were cuffed to the chair as well and Leader couldn’t get up from the seat.

“Alright, people. Last chance.”

“Do you worst.”

Whumper smiled. Then they tipped Leader’s chair back. Leader let out a soft oomph as the chair fell back the rest of the way until Leader was facing the ceiling, Whumper and Henchmen standing above him.

The last thing Leader saw was a towel coming down over his head. Leader would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared of what happened next. None of Supervillain’s men had taken his sight, or tied him to a chair just to force him awkwardly onto the ground. The top of his head was the only thing on the ground, that and his arms that were pinned beneath Leader’s weight on the chair, his legs in the air.

Another towel added to the initial one on top of Leader’s head, then another and Leader could feel his heart in his throat when he heard tape being ripped. The towels were wrapped in a single layer of duct tape over Leader’s eyes and another layer below his chin.

Leader swallowed, his hands balling into fists behind him that was already causing pins and needles in his arms.

There was a moment of silence: the atmosphere balanced on a precarious edge of fear and tension. Whumper nodded at henchmen to turn on the tap and picked up the hose.

“Any takers?” Whumper asked again. They weren’t usually this nice to the people they were torturing, but Rogue was an old friend. “No? Okay. Sorry Leader.”

That was all the warning Leader got before he was inhaling water. It was slow, trickling into his nose and Leader realised with a sickening beat that Whumper was water boarding him.

Leader held his breath on instinct, shaking his head, his arms trapped uselessly behind him. His legs were kicking at the cuffs that kept them locked to the chair.

“Leader?!” One of their team asked, voice shrill. Leader couldn’t tell who, and his lungs were aching with how much he was struggling to get the towels off his face, turning away from the hose that was relentless.

“Leader!”

“Wait! Stop! Stop!”

Whumper stared impassively at all the team members, eyes half-lidded, one hand in their pocket as they regarded them all as if they were all just waiting in line for a coffee.

“You can stop this,” said Whumper matter-of-factly.

One of the members beside Rogue spoke up: “Leader wouldn’t want us to.”

Whumper dropped their head, a sardonic expression crossing their features. “Are you serious? Do you really think Leader is thinking about his ideals right now?”

Leader gasped, unable to hold his breath anymore and he started gagging on the air, gurgling water and retching, his body spasming and limbs pulling at the restraints. Whumper didn’t even blink at the change.

“The instinct when being water boarded,” Whumper began, “is to hold your breath. Which Leader here just learned is a bad idea because eventually your lungs want air.”

“Whumper,” Rogue said in warning, yanking at the chains holding them back.

Whumper’s impassive eyes met Rogue’s. “Leader’s body needs air, except he was inhaling water which triggers his gag reflex and is effectively scorching his throat as we speak.”

“Stop it!” One of the members cried. “Stop narrating your torture!”

Whumper shrugged. “Fine. We can sit in silence if you prefer.”

Whumper did just that. They fell silent and so did everyone else. Leader was choking, convulsing, fighting, gasping, all very wetly, the water pooling around Leader’s head as his body tensed. Leader pushed against the chair, his body going stiff as he tried to tilt the chair back up to stop the easy onslaught of pain.

His brain was screaming at him, his body fighting and not understanding that he should stop trying to breathe but his mind wouldn’t let him stop panicking enough to let him hold his breath.

Leader threw his body weight into his legs forward and to his shock the chair went upright. Then Whumper caught the chair and Leader gasped in sweet sweet air, gasping, gasping, not getting enough air and started choking and spluttering on it.

“You had enough Leader?” Whumper asked, their voice matching their face that was a cold, emotionless thing.

Leader was still breathing in air, trying to get his heartbeat under control, drunk on oxygen.

“Leader?” One of the team asked.

“No… don’t—” Leader rasped, then descended into a coughing fit. “Don’t tell them anything.”

“Oh,” said Whumper, letting the chair fall backwards again. “Sounds like you got a bad cough there Leader. You need some water?”

“No! Wait!” Leader protested.

Whumper let the hose fall over Leader’s face again, and Leader held his breath again like an idiot. Whumper stared down at Leader’s chest, wired so tight, trying not to let drowning bother him.

Whumper looked back at the other members of the team. “This is the easiest way to get answers from people, in my professional opinion. Plus it’s not disgusting, no lasting damage on Leader or you guys, except you know, trauma and psychological damage, but you know what I mean.”

Four horrified expressions looked at Whumper. Whumper glanced back to Henchmen who stood at the tap, their jaw tight.

Whumper knew it was a professional, practical reason why they didn’t really react to inflicting pain on people, but at times like this, when even Supervillain’s right hand was uncomfortable with Whumper’s methods… that made them feel inhuman. Wrong.

Whumper’s eyes found Rogue’s that were burning into them from across the cell. Strangely, they were the only eyes that Whumper really cared about. So funny how the past can creep up on you.

Well, a job is a job at the end of the day, Whumper might as well do one that they’re good at. The people in this room were Heroes because it was their talent. Whumper’s talent was pressure point and pain, and knowing just how far to go to get someone to snap.

Leader gasped below Whumper, bringing their attention back to the writhing worm on a hook below them. “Ah. There we go. The inhale. Human anatomy fucks you everytime, huh, Leader?”

“You’re a sadistic bastard!” One of the team members screamed.

Whumper frowned. “I don’t enjoy this. It’s just a job. Same as you Heroes, and your Superhero. Ask yourself this, if Leader was in your position and you were in his, would he protect you or would he protect Superhero?”

“You’re a bastard!”

Leader wheezed, trying to push himself up again, but Whumper had placed a foot on the chair by Leader’s head. “Ah, ah, ah. Leader. You’re not breathing again until someone starts talking.”

Leader convulsed erratically under the water, trying to lift his head up to try and get some air in his lungs. He craned his neck up, but the air attacked his senses and Leader gasped and fell back again. The hose mercilessly flowed over his nose again.

Whumper looked up suddenly. “Hey, do any of you know if Leader has asthma? Cause if so you need to decide faster, this is not a good thing to do to people who are asthmatic.”

“And it’s a good thing for normal people?” One of them asked and Whumper scoffed.

“Semantics,” they said.

“We have to tell them,” said Rogue quietly.

“What?!”

“We can’t Rogue.”

“Listen,” Rogue said, their voice edging on desperate. “I know Whumper, okay?! They’re not going to stop until they get what they want. They can sit here all day and torture Leader and not feel a thing.”

“Rogue’s right,” said Whumper with a sigh. “I get paid by the hour, so really this whole debate back and forth is good for me. Financially I mean. Take your time. Leader, do you mind if they take their time?”

Leader gurgled and choked and spluttered.

Whumper smiled at the team. “See? He’s fine. Take your time.”

“Oh shut up, Whumper,” said the quiet girl. Whumper looked at her, the new one that sat opposite Leader and wouldn’t offer her name. When she looked at Whumper now her eyes burned with a sizzling hatred.

Whumper smiled at her, recognising that level of hatred as their own. Whumper remembers being where she was, powerless to stop bad things from happening to the people they loved.

It felt full circle, that moment, and it ignited something within Whumper that was a little feral, and broken, and wrong. Whumper’s eyes flashed at her, whose glare was unbroken and burning a hole through Whumper’s head, or it would if it could.

Below them, Leader was still spluttering and choking and gagging and wrenching and writhing but Whumper’s attention was fixed on the new girl now.

“Huh. You’re chatty now? Wanna share your name?”

“No,” she said. “I want you to die.”

“Thats a little forward, considering we’ve just met,” said Whumper, glancing at Rogue, whose wide eyes were fixed squarely on the girl. “They always like this, Rogue? Little rude for a Hero.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me.”

Whumper hummed to themselves. They moved the hose away from Leader’s head and smiled wanly at the sounds of Leader gasping and coughing on air again.

“Still with us, Leader?” Whumper asked, not taking their eyes off of the angry girl.

“Go… go ffu—urself,” Leader wheezed between laboured breaths.

“Waterboarding is special, huh, Leader? You need breaks in between or it’s not as effective.”

“You—”

Whumper pressed the hose back to Leader and Leader immediately started coughing. Whumper smiled at the girl whose jaw tightened at Whumper’s blasé style of interrogation.

Whumper took the hose off of Leader again, to more coughing and spluttering.

“How’s the cough, Leader?”

“Ff—” Leader didn’t even get a syllable out before Whumper pressed the hose down on his nose again.

“Leader!” One of the other teammates exclaimed, but Whumper had their gaze trained on the girl. Watching her muscles tightening.

Whumper smirked.

Oh they just found the weak link. Maybe they had a special relationship with Leader.

Whumper told Henchmen to turn the tap off and dropped the hose to the floor. Things just got interesting.

“You can put Leader upright,” said Whumper to Henchmen as they walked to the angry girl. Whumper crouched down in front of her. She glared up at Whumper.

“Whumper,” said Rogue in warning. Whumper smiled down at the girl and said: “Rogue, if you try and dissuade me again I will have Henchmen gag you.”

The girl’s eyes flicked briefly to Leader who was pushed to an upright position. Leader spewed some water from his lungs onto the floor in front of him, head lolling forward and groaning.

“What’s your name, little Hero?” Whumper asked.

“Little Hero,” she replied, eyes hard as she stared at Whumper.

Whumper grinned. “Funny.”

Whumper got to their feet and walked over to Leader, purposefully. They ripped the towels from Leader’s head and grabbed one, coiling it meticulously into a shape resembling coiled rope. Then Whumper shoved it between Leader’s teeth, thankful that the towel was long enough to tie it behind Leader’s head and double knot it.

Leader groaned behind the gag.

“Okay,” said Whumper. “Because you all seem like good guys, I’m giving you a bonus last chance to tell me what I want to know before I really traumatise you all.”

Leader wasn’t even really there behind the eyes anymore, just trying to focus on breathing, on surviving. He wasn’t even pulling at the cuffs anymore.

“How can he answer?!” Rogue demanded hotly. “You just gagged Leader!”

Whumper’s smile seemed to suck all the coldness from the room. “I’m not asking him questions, Rogue. I’m asking all of you. Now then. We go again.”

This time, Whumper left the chair upright and just yanked Leader’s head back. Then Whumper grabbed the hose and grinned at everyone.

He stuck it on Leader’s nose. After a few seconds it was as if Leader was being electrocuted, his body convulsing violently against the chair to the cries of his teammates.

“Stop!”

“Stop it!”

“WHUMPER!” Rogue screamed, all of them struggling and pulling on their restraints. Whumper didn’t react. They didn’t even look at any of them.

“Stop please!” One of them cried wetly, oh yeah. Good. Tears meant they were almost there. On the verge of telling Whumper what they wanted to hear.

Leader’s hands and ankles were bleeding from how hard he was pulling and straining at the cuffs. Whumper had to commend the team, they don’t think they could withstand seeing someone they love and trust being tortured like this.

“THE WEAPON IS A PERSON!” Whumper pulled the hose away immediately, head swivelling to the confessor. Whumper grinned when they saw it was the little Hero. Oh, Whumper knew she would snap first.

Whumper smiled sweetly while Leader coughed and vomited water from his lungs pathetically. Whumper pulled the gag from Leader’s mouth and more water pooled out, Leader’s throat expanding and vomiting water onto the ground. Well, Whumper wouldn’t be a good interrogator if they let their leverage die.

“Who?” Whumper asked softly.

The entire team was shivering, chests heaving, emotion running heavy through them, as if they were all getting water boarded. Hero’s wide eyes were on Leader who had appeared to go unconscious. Whumper didn’t care.

“Who?” They asked again, more firm this time.

“Let him go.”

“Tell me who or I’ll slit his throat right now, Hero.”

Hero pursed her lips at Whumper, eyes burning.

“Oh,” Whumper said, glancing between Hero and Leader. “Oh… you’re not in love with him, are you? No. That wasn’t loving forlorn glances that was… that was guilt, wasn’t it?”

“Whumper please—” Rogue begged but Whumper held up a hand that effectively silenced them. Hero sniffed, eyes glued on Leader in the chair.

Whumper smiled. “Oh Supervillain is gonna laugh when he realises he had Superhero’s secret weapon locked in the basement this whole time.”

“Henchmen, will you be a dear and check Leader’s pulse for me?”

There was a few seconds of silence, the team waiting with bated breath that turned into a collective sigh when Henchmen said: “still alive.”

“Wonderful,” said Whumper. “We need to bring him upstairs with us—”

“No!” Hero yelled, struggling against her own restraints. “Leave him alone! It’s me you want, take me,” she pleaded, tears streaming freely down her face.

“To make sure he’s okay,” said Whumper pointedly. “When waterboarding goes wrong sometimes people get hypothermia, so we have to be careful. But don’t worry, Hero. You’re coming too.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhump25 #febuwhump day 25 #febuwhump day twenty-five #febuwhump prompts #water boarding #waterboarding #tw waterboarding #cw waterboarding #tw: Waterboarding #Cw: waterboarding #tw choking #choking #suffocation #suffocating #suffering #traumatic event #forced to watch #torture #torture whump #tw torture #tw psychological torture #hero team Whump #team whump #team leader whumpee #team leader whump #dissocation #choking on water #vomiting

[sineala]

Hi!! I used to be big into superhusbands till about the whole international iron man by bendis (i abandoned there..Tony was too different)... I was wondering, do you recommend current marvel comics? Are they still ridiculously interrupted by crossing over and events?

I am actually really, really enjoying current Marvel comics! I also think now is a pretty good time to hop on board.

If you want specific recs, I have lots of them.

Current comics:

We just got a brand-new Avengers run -- issue #2 just came out this week -- and although Steve isn't on the team (Sam is), Tony is there, and Carol is the team chair. Many of us, myself included, have been really looking forward to this run, because it's being written by Jed MacKay, who is a relatively new writer to Marvel who in my opinion writes comics with very well-characterized characters and a lot of love for the source material. (He is also currently writing what has now become my favorite Doctor Strange run.)

MacKay especially writes a very good Tony; he did an Iron Man annual and an Avengers annual back in 2021 (part of the "Infinite Destinies" series of annuals. The Iron Man one had some very good Tony characterization, and the Avengers annual instantly became everyone's favorite because about half of it is Steve and Tony hanging out at home together, and the other half is Steve and Tony punching robots.

So there's not really a whole lot to say about the new Avengers run yet, but I am excited for it.

(Jason Aaron recently ended a five-year Avengers run. I would recommend skipping it, except for the issue where Steve, Tony, and Thor all go skinny-dipping together in a hot tub. It is the highlight of the run.)

We are seven issues into a new Iron Man run, being written by Gerry Duggan (whom you may remember from 1872), and I swear this is the best Iron Man ongoing comic that has come out since I have been in this fandom. Every issue is actually good, and he's absolutely nailing the Tony characterization, and he's clearly done all the reading. And also Tony is getting whumped hard. I really love it. Every time we get a new issue I am excited to read it because I know it's gonna be good.

(You have missed a couple of Iron Man runs. The Dan Slott run was not all that great, but it had some very sweet canon Tony/Jan and also very pretty art by Valerio Schiti. Then we got Christopher Cantwell's Iron Man run, which was the worst Iron Man run I have ever read in my entire life and featured Tony being a privileged and out-of-touch billionaire asshole who then got addicted to morphine, acquired the Power Cosmic, murdered most of his friends (and, I mean, brought them back, at least), and then decided that he should maybe go to rehab so that he could learn humility which apparently he did not have? My least favorite moment was the bit where Patsy Walker tells him he has no idea what it's like to be suicidal and Tony -- a person who has had at least two on-panel suicide attempts -- agrees that, no, he has no idea what that's like. Anyway. You should skip that.)

I have been kind of meh about the current Cap run (other than the fact that it appears to have given us canon Steve/Emma femdom) because a whole lot of it is basically "CATWS but what if 616" and also they killed off one of my minor-character faves and I am very bitter. There is one more issue left in this run, so you might as well just wait a couple more months and start with the next run, which will be written by J. Michael Straczynski. I know a lot of people have strong feelings about JMS' comics work but I have been a Babylon 5 fan since it started airing and I am excited that JMS, the guy who gave us the "no, you move" speech, is going to be writing Steve. (JMS also wrote Bullet Points, if you liked the Steve in that one.)

(Cap runs you have missed include Ta-Nehisi Coates -- it was fine but for the most part Steve was wildly OOC -- as well as a very short run by Mark Waid whose first arc you should check out because it was absolutely amazing and had great Samnee art. I think you've also missed Nick Spencer's run, which. Uh. I don't even know where to begin with discussing that.)

Recent events:

Comics are still going to be comics, so, yeah, there are always events. Some of them are pretty good, though. If you haven't been here for a few years, you've probably missed AXE Judgment Day, Heroes Reborn, Empyre, and War of the Realms. Possibly also Secret Empire, Civil War II, and Standoff.

Of all of these, I would have to say that AXE Judgment Day (written by Kieron Gillen) was my favorite; it featured the Avengers, X-Men, and Eternals all coming together to save the world from a Celestial that was trying to judge all of humanity and then destroy the planet. You know, the usual. I thought it was pretty well done and had a lot for Steve and Tony to do. They got to be on the same side, for once. Steve got a whole bunch of speeches and everyone got a massive amount of angst; there was actually an entire issue devoted to the Celestial's judgment of Tony. So yeah, it didn't have a whole lot of Steve & Tony together but they both definitely had starring roles for the event.

Heroes Reborn (yes, it would kill Marvel to think up a new name) was an event where Phil Coulson sold his soul to the devil to make the Squadron Supreme have always been the best superhero team on Earth. Coulson has been wedged into the comics from the MCU but Jason Aaron clearly committed hard to making him the most evil person possible.

Empyre -- by Slott and Ewing, art by Schiti -- was probably my second-favorite recent event. It once again featured heroes fighting villains, as is right and proper. Steve and Tony weren't the stars of the event or anything but they did, you know, get to help out a bit. It was a bunch of Kree-Skrull stuff and everyone fought some tree people whose names I am blanking on and it also ended in Billy and Teddy's Big Gay Jewish Space Wedding, so obviously you have to appreciate that.

I remember very little about War of the Realms. It was one of those Asgard things.

You probably missed Secret Empire? And possibly the lead-ins to it, Avengers Standoff and Civil War II. This was infamously the event where Steve was replaced by an evil Hydra version of himself who decided to make America into his own personal fascist state. (Standoff was the event where he was secretly replaced although we did not know this at the time; he spent all of Civil War II -- a Carol vs. Tony event, this time with Tony ending up in a coma at the end -- gaslighting all the heroes pretty hard.) Public reaction to Secret Empire was, as you can imagine, very very bad (they decided to promote this as "this is the real Steve and he has been evil forever" rather than, like, "hey we're doing a villain AU for the next six months") and they ended up concluding the whole thing much faster than they had originally planned to, presumably because the sales tanked hard. They basically did a very, very bad job with this one.

Secret Empire has mostly provided a lot of source material for fandom to pick apart and improve upon -- especially the people who like villain AUs -- and its major highlight is a lead-in one-shot, Civil War II: The Oath, which is a villain remix of The Confession in which Hydra Steve addresses Tony's comatose body and, among other things, tells him that the real Steve loved him, and that he always loved him, even when they fought. So, you know. We all enjoyed that page.

Other fun things you might have missed:

There have been a bunch of fun relatively-recent miniseries!

The thing you will probably be most interested is Captain America/Iron Man, which is a five-issue miniseries by Derek Landy of Steve and Tony teaming up to take down a villain (who is, of course, one of Tony's exes). It has some lovely character moments. The collected edition of this is called "The Armor and the Shield."

Jed MacKay -- yes, the guy writing Avengers -- also previously wrote a run of Black Cat that had a lot of Tony cameos, and then decided to write an Iron Cat miniseries in which Felicia & Tony team up to defeat both of their ex-girlfriends who have decided to try to murder them because apparently, yes, they both have terrible luck with relationships. (In Tony's case, this is Sunset Bain.)

We're also currently getting an Ayodele & Akande miniseries, I Am Iron Man, which is set at various points in Tony's history and I have to admit that I have literally no idea what's going on here but at least it's clear that they really like Tony, and it's sweet.

In what I can only assume was an attempt at some kind of MCU synergy, we just finished getting a second Secret Invasion miniseries (written by Ryan North of Squirrel Girl fame) which was an extremely clever series in which basically nothing was as it seemed, and also Tony was one of the major characters. I really, really liked this one.

If you like weird AUs, we also recently got a (Tom Taylor, I think?) miniseries called Dark Ages, in an alternate future where electricity has stopped working. It did have Steve and Tony.

It is not specifically Steve & Tony related but we just got a Wasp miniseries by Al Ewing, which is Jan's first solo book ever. Yes, ever.

And it has nothing to do with Steve and Tony at all, but I feel like people who don't ordinarily read Guardians of the Galaxy might really enjoy Ewing's run on that, because it is incredibly queer. Phyla-Vell and Moondragon are main characters, Billy and Teddy come guest-star for a lot of it, Avril Kincaid (the new Quasar, who is also gay) is there for a bit, and also the overarching relationship plot is "Peter, Gamora, and Rich decide they all love each other and are all going to be in a relationship." This is extremely heavily implied. There are multiple love confessions and the run ends with them embracing. So yeah, Pete/Rich is canon now. It's great.

That's all I can think of for right now.

#replies #lucrezianoin

[zahri-melitor]

Ooh, the Dickpoll. Dick like Tim is cursed with having a bunch of acceptable writers who also tend to have a huge gaping flaw.

Marv Wolfman: can I get spicy here? I don't really like Wolfman. Yes yes, foundational to creating Nightwing, he IS NTT - but I don't particularly enjoy NTT. I like the OTT lineup. He's also dealing with the fact a lot of his content is now 30-40 years old. Plus, when they DID give him a Nightwing run, it was the most retrospective thing ignoring almost everything that had happened to Dick since he was returned to the Bat office in 1993-1994.

Chuck Dixon: I don't think Chuck is Dick's best writer. I think he is way too heavy handed with the 'be my own man, Bruce' narrative most of the time. Despite this he also wrote Robin #13, and Dick and Bruce's conversation there, especially "That's the way it is between fathers and sons" is peak perfect Bruce and Dick. He set up pretty much everything about what is now treated by the fandom as Nightwing's 'default' situation - Blüdhaven and a good chunk of the associated rogues gallery. Also he's the architect of well-written Dick/Babs so I love him for that.

Devin Grayson: Devin shouldn't actually be allowed to write Dick as his primary writer because she loves him too much and has elaborate headcanons that contradict what other writers have written. That said, she's actually a solid writer and her runs tend to be much better when she's got other characters around to spread her attention between. She wrote Transference in Gotham Knights, after all! She wrote "Like Riding a Bike" about Dick and Donna in Batman Chronicles! Also as I've said before, part of the issue with her Nightwing run is she got royally screwed over by War Games and then Nightwing Year One right as she was trying to land the bleakest part of a whump run, and never recovered from it.

Jay Faerber: he's...fine? I think the only bit anyone seriously cares about is the Who is Donna Troy storyline.

Judd Winick: Oooh Winick. He likes writing Dick more broken than I enjoy Dick. Also I hold a grudge against him for his Batman & Robin story, when I was desperately hoping someone other than Tomasi would write bearable Dick and Damian interactions in their own title and instead we got a random Jason Todd story.

Peter Tomasi: Tomasi's run on Nightwing, particularly Freefall, has the best understanding of Dick as a character that anyone has ever written in a book titled 'Nightwing'. Fight me. Also he had the only good run on Batman & Robin 2009, a truly cursed book, blighted only by the fact nobody stopped to check basic facts about Aaron Langstrom.

Grant Morrison: uh. um. I guess Morrison was in the loop for the Dick and Tim storyline in Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul, even though pretty much all of it happened in books they weren't writing? Bottom of my list. Seriously, Paul Dini's Streets of Gotham did most of the heavy lifting initially with making Reborn Batman!Dick appealing.

Scott Snyder: Dick's characterisation in both The Black Mirror and Gates of Gotham is actually really good! He brought some really good 'team leader Dick Grayson' energy to the Batfam during a period they needed it, and he gave us back Dick and Cass having a functional relationship together.

Anyone I think was overlooked here? Hmmm. Not notably, but I'll shout out Scott Beatty, whose Dick in his Gotham Knights run was always consistently entertaining, and who collabed with Dixon for a bunch of things I think have great Dick in them (Joker's Last Laugh, Batgirl Year One, Robin Year One).

#dick grayson #writer comparisons

[wollemi-whump]

A list of my favorite whump and non-whump House MD fics

I've read some really great fics for House so I thought I'd share them here in case anyone wanted to read them (and really because I want to talk about them)

I'd say about half of these are Chase-centric and about half are general character stories

Bone Deep and Week One of Med School by julienwrites are hands down the two BEST House fics I've ever read and the best sickfics I've ever read. I dont know how this author writes so well its actual magic. Both are Chase sickfics set in season 7 and 6, respectively, and full of good sick whump and some very good wholesome comfort. I enjoy sickfic whump about as much as other types of whump but WOW these were INCREDIBLE!!!

Next up is Can't Change Anything by NAOA. There's some absolutely WONDERFUL emotional whump in this. Centered around Chase and his reaction to his stepmother being the team's newest patient. Wonderful character writing in this (I mean the characterization is frankly tremendous in all of them but in this one especially because of the emotional nature of the whump). Also typical House-being-an-asshole shenanigans written amazingly. Original trio fic.

Declare the Past, Diagnose the Present by andrealyn. Wow. Just WOW. General character fic that's slightly whumpy but moreso just very entertaining. Loooooooove the character dialogue in this! And the descriptions are awesome! Just a really well rounded impressive story. Original trio fic.

Let the Nerf-Bat Wars Begin by OldToadWoman is a really funny and entertaining fic set in season 6. Hilarious House and Wilson shenanigans and fantastic dynamics between the team (ironically, over their shared hatred for team building!). I think i was grinning the whole time reading this lol. Honestly one of the best non-angsty fics I've read. Highly recommend!

Self-Defense, or The One Where Foreman Teaches Chase How to Throw a Punch by ignaz. Lovely short fic with the original trio. Intended as pre-slash but can be read as platonic too. Not whump but slightly angsty and overall a good story :)

The Unwilling Host by jmtorres. A fantastic funny fluff fic about Thanksgiving at House's house. Very sweet found family dynamics between House, Wilson, Cuddy, and the original trio. Wonderful to read after all the canonical (and fanfictional) angst of this show! I loved reading this so much!

Aaaaaaand right back into whump! These Walls Are Suffocating Me by awkwardanxiousasexual is an amazing Chase centered whump fic about claustrophobia. A 5+1 fic set throughout his life with some magnificent descriptions of panic!!

Last but not least! Wonder, Wonder by A_Concerned_Citizen. Character studies of the original trio from Wilson's perspective. Mostly Chase centric. Some fantastic "missing scene" parts, and lovely internal Wilson thoughts!!

#house md #house md fanfiction #house md fic #whump #whump writing #whump recs #wollemi post

[lektricwhump]

i swear this about has a funny title guys trust me

howdy! been using this blog for a bit now but i’m finally making a proper intro. i go by the names beck, mac, and flynn. i’m 19 and use she/him pronouns (my gender identity is butch woman). proud representative of the bi butch community.

i like and follow from @lektricfergus, and my avatar is by @midlangley. i’m not gonna list any specific dni but i’ll block people if our vibes don’t jive. i may post/reblog nsft content here, properly tagged (as #nsft and/or #nsfwhump), and i ask that minors not interact with those posts.

on to the fun stuff. here’s what you probably will see a lot of on this blog:

- gore and body horror

- defiant whumpees

- whumping the whumper

- substance abuse

- dehumanization

- organized crime

- weirdo immortals and magic users

- urban fantasy

- BUTCH CHARACTERS!!!

of note is that if i tag ladywhump it’s so people can find it, not as a trigger tag. if you need to avoid it i respect that, but my blog may not be for you

here’s what you probably won’t see a lot of, if at all:

- vomit/emeto in detail

- whump of minors

- heavy animalization

- societally normalized bbu/trafficking

that’s it for the important stuff, but there’s a small non-whumpy about under the cut with supplemental beck info

stuff i like:

- ethel cain

- team fortress 2 (shameless plug for my tf2 blog @fineredmist)

- doom engine games and mods for them

- comics/graphic novels

- movies, especially horror and disaster—i’m planning to minor in film and/or screenwriting! some specific movies i love are: the thing (1982), near dark (1987), brain damage (1988), 28 days later (2003), the day after tomorrow (2004), annihilation (2018), and the menu (2022). i also happen to claim school of rock (2003) as one of my favorites, but that doesn’t really fit in that list.

- relating to the above, body horror and practical effects

what else to put here

#whump community #introduction #lektricwhump #pinned #new #newbie #<- not really but the intro is new #whump intro #whump blog #whump