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kabie-whump · 3 months

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✧･ﾟRipe, About to Fall - Part 9 ✧･ﾟ

This is an 18+ slowish burn pet-whump story with added romance.

Title from ‘Liquid Smooth’ by Mitski

Series Description and Warnings

Masterlist, First, Previous

Chapter Summary: Athos has some guests over. Dramaaaa

Chapter Content: references to past child abuse, master/pet dynamics, betrayal, a lot of talk about whipping and branding but it doesn't happen onscreen, drug withdrawl/addiction

Onthyes does not belong to me. He was created by my wonderful gf @sapphicccici and I have kidnapped him.

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“Have you learned your lesson?”

Ventis could barely understand what Athos was saying. The vial of nightspill - the one thing capable of ending his suffering - in his master’s hand captured all of his attention.

He rolled over to expose his arm, the sweat-damp covers twisting around him. He couldn’t remember when he’d been taken to bed. Probably some time after he started hallucinating and sobbing from pain in front of someone important. It’d been a while since then. A whole night, probably. Athos smells like fresh coffee and a crack in the curtains lets in a sliver of orange light.

“Yes,” Ventis gasped. “Please, I’m sorry. Please make it stop.”

Athos’s expression softened, his hand going to stroke Ventis’s hair. “Oh, my poor little bird. You look a mess. Did you have a hard night without me next to you?”

Ventis nodded, not really aware of what he was agreeing with. “Please,” he whimpered. “It hurts. I need you.”

“Alright, darling. Only since you asked so nicely.”

Ventis sobbed with relief as Athos gently injected the nightspill into his veins. The pain drained away, replaced with a soothing numbness, and his world came back into focus.

“Thank you, master,” Ventis gasped.

Athos just smiled as he unlocked and removed the cuff from Ventis’s wrist. A wave of static electricity escaped him with a buzzing sound, making the blankets stick to Ventis’s skin.

“I need you to be on your best behavior today, pet,” Athos said as Ventis found a glass of water on his bedside table and chugged it, soothing his painfully dry mouth. “I will be having some guests over for dinner. They are nobles from a kingdom north of here, and it is important to me that we impress them.”

Ventis nodded his understanding, wiping excess water from his mouth with his sleeve. “I’ll be good,” he assured Athos.

“I know you will do your best, darling. However, due to your lapse in behavior a few days ago I will have to enact some preventive measures. First, I expect complete silence from you. Tomorrow you will receive five lashes for every word I hear from you tonight. Understand?”

“Yes, master.”

“Second, you will be bound tonight. Not tightly enough to interfere with your duties, of course, but enough to serve as a reminder of your place here. I know you are not accustomed to working this way, but nonetheless I expect nothing but grace from you at all times.”

“I understand, master.”

“Good. I have some preparations to attend to, so I will leave you to gather yourself. The next time we see each other I expect silence.”

Ventis allows himself to sit quietly and enjoy the relief provided by the nightspill, a heavy weight squashing down his rebellious emotions. He had spent the last day and night in turmoil; hating Athos, mourning Onthyes, longing for freedom. But everything felt okay again now. He had been silly and irrational for wanting to run away with the first big strong guard to treat him like a person. He didn’t need any of that. He had everything he needed right here with Athos.

Ventis was able to relax into the long process of being prepared for the evening’s events. His hair was styled, his teeth, horns, and scales polished, his clothing carefully selected from a closet that took up an entire room of its own.

The bindings that were put on him were more for show than anything else. A long, delicate golden chain spilled down from his collar and split to loop around each wrist, which were loosely bound together in front of his body in a similar fashion. His ankles were linked together as well by a chain that left enough room for him to walk slowly but not so much room that he could break into a run. He could probably break the chains if he really wanted to.

“The master’s guests are here,” a maid poked her head into Ventis’s room to announce. “They’re in the sitting room.”

Ventis took one last look at himself in the mirror, unable to stop himself from smiling at the wave of pride in his beauty. The garment he wore left very little to the imagination as always. This one in particular was open in the back in a way that very clearly showed off the brand Athos had given him. It still looked bad, but not as bad as it had yesterday.

The symbol had made a clean impression on his skin, clearly announcing exactly who Ventis belonged to.

“Alright. I’m going,” he said, savoring the last words he would speak that night.

As Ventis made his way down to the main sitting room he could hear voices that made an uncomfortable itch tingle at his spine. He pushed the feeling aside. They sounded familiar, sure, but he was just being paranoid.

Then he entered the sitting room. His eyes locked on to the two men sitting across from Athos instantly.

No. Gods no.

It had only been three years, but Theodore looked older. His form was bulkier, his horns were longer, and he appeared to be cultivating a beard that Ventis would love to tease him for in any other situation.

Their shared father looked exactly the same. Tall. Powerful. Stone cold.

Ventis had rarely seen the man express any emotion other than disappointment and the occasional flash of rage, but the moment that their eyes met something crossed his face that Ventis didn’t recognize.

“What is the meaning of this?” Father’s voice was carefully controlled, but it was echoed by an audible crack of thunder from outside - unusual considering that it was meant to be a completely clear day. The room dropped ten degrees in an instant. Suddenly Ventis was a little kid again, suppressing the urge to run and hide from his father’s wrath.

Athos turned around to look at Ventis and the grin on his face said everything. He’d planned this. This was a punishment. He’d called Ventis’s father and brother here just to humiliate him, and now he was basking in the chaos he’d caused.

“I-”

“Five.”

Right. Five lashes per word. That conniving bastard.

Ventis shut his mouth but he couldn’t bring himself to move. His feet were rooted to the floor. He’d gotten to the point that he didn’t mind being exposed in front of others, but now that he stood in front of his father and his brother he was hyper-aware of every inch of bare skin.

At least they seemed equally shocked and horrified. Theodore’s eyes were wide, his face bright red as he seemed unsure of where to look. Father was still struggling to contain himself. Raindrops began to thump against the windows.

“Don’t be shy, pet,” Athos said flippantly, turning back around to face his guests. “You know your place.”

Ventis wondered if he’d be able to break the window and throw himself out before someone stopped him. He might just be able to manage it. But instead he let his feet carry him to Athos, where he settled on the cushion on the floor in front of the man.

More thunder. Theodore failed at suppressing a strangled sound. Father had gone completely stone-faced.

Part of Ventis was glad that his father was seeing what he had become. I’m here because of you, he wanted to scream. I’m like this because you banished me. Now sit there and fucking face it.

Athos rested a hand on Ventis’s head, playing with his hair. “This is Ventis, my treasured companion,” he said proudly, pretending to be unaware of the tension that had fallen over the room. “Please, pay him no mind. You were telling me about your efforts to combat piracy on the northern coast?”

Ventis winced, seeing Father’s eyes widen at the use of his name. He hadn’t been going by Ventis before he was banished.

Father took a single deep breath, composing himself. “Yes, I have put certain countermeasures in place to discourage piracy-”

“I apologize,” Theodore cut in. “Are we supposed to just ignore this?” He gestured towards Ventis.

“Theodore,” Father warned under his breath.

“Oh? Is there an issue here? Do people not have pets in your kingdom?” Athos was lying. There was no way he didn’t know what he was doing when he invited them here.

“This boy,” Father said disdainfully, “used to be my son and Theodore’s half-brother. But there is no issue, because he is no longer a member of our family. He is nothing to us.”

Ventis traced the intricate patterns on the carpet with his eyes.

“Ah, well, you know what they say. One man’s trash is another’s treasure.”

The topic was turned away from Ventis after that. He could almost tune them out and pretend like the two men in front of him were any other guests of Athos’s.

Almost, but every time Father hummed in that one way he did when he was trying to pretend his conversation partner wasn’t boring him he had to suppress the urge to flinch. And every time Theodore gave in to his nervous compulsion to pick at his fingernails Ventis had to keep himself from reaching out and stopping him with a teasing, “You’ll ruin your manicure, brother.”

Dinner was ready not much later. Ventis took his usual place standing against the wall, a pitcher of wine in hand.

His stomach growled. He hadn’t been able to eat yesterday, the withdrawals tearing at his stomach with a ferocity that pushed him to turn down any food offered to him. A maid had brought him breakfast this morning, but he hadn’t eaten since then and he knew that he wouldn’t eat again unless Athos thought to offer him something. Dinners like this always made him feel like a dog waiting for its owner to drop table scraps.

Athos held up his empty glass, just slightly higher than would be considered casual, and Ventis rushed forward to fill it in an instant. He didn’t even have to pay attention to the man’s signals anymore. Serving him was second nature.

"I have never seen him so obedient before,” Father said, watching Ventis over his own glass.

Ventis tensed, but he finished filling Athos’s cup and stepped back silently.

“Oh? Did he behave differently as a child?”

“There was a period of time in which I was convinced he was deaf. He never listened. What is your secret?”

Athos barked out a laugh. “It’s simple, really. Ventis serves me because he loves me. I give him everything he may ever want and he gives me his entire self. He belongs to me - body and mind - and he does so willingly because he knows no one else will ever treat him as well as I do. That combined with a heavy hand in punishment when the need arises does well at keeping him in line.”

An amused smirk pulls at the corner of Father’s lips. He knocked back the last sip of his wine, then gestured Ventis over.

Ventis felt his heart sink with every step he took around the table to his father’s side. He studiously avoided eye contact as he filled the glass.

Father’s hand shot out as Ventis began to step away, taking his wrist in a tight grip.

Ventis gasped. He was eight and thirteen and sixteen and twenty all at once. He couldn’t meet his father’s eyes, but he could feel them boring into his face, picking out every single weakness.

“How does he punish you?” Father asked, his voice filled with a detached curiosity.

Ventis glanced at Athos. He’d been ordered not to speak.

Athos waved a hand dismissively. “Don’t be rude, pet. Answer him.”

Satisfied with the permission, Ventis returned his attention to his father. “Lashes, mostly,” he admitted. “He has an enchanted whip. It doesn’t leave marks.”

Father released his grip on Ventis’s wrist and Ventis stepped back immediately, his heart pounding.

“Sixty,” Athos muttered between bites of food.

No.

Ventis whipped his head around to look at him. “But you said-”

“Seventy-five.”

That shut him up. He should’ve known Athos would do this. The man had given him permission to speak, but he had not revoked the looming threat of punishment for it.

The rest of the night went by without issue. Dinner was consumed and cleared away, drinks were poured in the parlor, and then Father and Theodore were saying their goodbyes. Ventis didn’t miss the long, loaded look Theodore sent him as they left, but he couldn’t ackowledge it.

The air was tense as Ventis and Athos retired to the bedroom that night. Ventis had never felt so deeply betrayed by anyone before. He couldn’t even bear to look at Athos as he undressed and joined him under the thick blankets.

“You may speak now,” Athos said, opening his arms for Ventis to lay on his chest.

Ventis settled against him but did not speak. It was probably another trick. Athos had said before that he shouldn’t speak for the entire night.

“It was an astounding coincidence - your father and brother being my guests tonight. Were you surprised?”

Ventis nodded.

“Words please, darling.”

It had to be a trick. He wasn’t falling for it.

“Ventis.” Athos gripped his chin, forcing eye contact. Ventis barely suppressed a whimper. “Why won’t you speak?”

It took a long moment of silence before realization dawned across Athos’s face. “I am being genuine. Your evening of silence is over now.”

Ventis just stared at him, wide eyed and confused.

“Speak, or I’ll double the number of lashes I owe you tomorrow.”

That did the trick. Ventis would much rather take an extra five or ten lashes than another seventy-five. “Yes, master,” he whispered. “I am sorry.”

“One hundred,” Athos said with a satisfied grin.

--- Theodore’s POV ---

It had been satisfying to Theodore at first, finally seeing where his brother had ended up after all these years. It made sense that a dramatic attention whore like him would find himself on the arm of some rich narcissist.

And it quelled any inkling of worry he may have had, any small fear that Jasper had ended up dead on the streets. No, he was fine - dressed up in gold and jewels and lounging at the feet of someone who would never see him suffer. It was a degrading position to be in, of course, but there are much worse fates to be had.

Theodore had never been as smart as Jasper (as Ventis? Athos had called him Ventis. Did he change his name?). But he was still smart enough to pick up the ever growing clues as the night went on. The golden chains on his throat, wrists, and ankles weren’t just jewlery. They were shackles. An angry burn in the shape of Athos’s personal crest stood out starkly against Ventis’s skin. And then there was the way Athos and Father had talked so casually about flogging him.

It made Theodore’s skin crawl, the blatant display of abuse coming from Athos. He and Jasper had always been rivals but they were never enemies. The hatred was there but it was impure, laced with jealousy and begrudging respect and the tiniest moments of adoration. How could father look into the face of what Athos was doing to Jasper with so little care?

Theodore tried to banish the evening from his mind as they said their goodbyes and boarded a carriage to their next destination. Father would be leaving in the morning, but Theodore was to spend the next month studying in Nimbria, living under the roof of the city’s captain of guard, Richard Ventura. He had a son, apparently. A man named Onthyes who was a few years older than Theodore and undoubtedly a good influence.

He couldn’t let the revelation of what was happening to Jasper distract him from his duties here. After returning home he would be expected to finally take on a real political role in his kingdom. He needed to be ready. He couldn’t disappoint his father.

Onthyes was said to be disciplined and focused, a picture perfect eldest son and shoo-in for his father’s position someday. A man like him will surely help keep Theodore’s mind off of Jasper.

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@scp-1296 @sapphicccici @acer-gaysimpstuff @morning-star-whump @yeetmyskeet @rainydaywhump @sleepyiswhumping

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writereleaserepeat · 1 year

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Hear No Evil - Chapter 5

Previous // Next

CW: bbu, bbu-adjacent, pet whump, institutionalized slavery, dehumanization, dehumanizing intent by using it/its pronouns, ableism, blood mention, scar mention, non-sexual nudity

It felt wrong to touch the boy’s face. It felt wrong to touch a person who had been endlessly abused into mindless submission, someone who had been trained through pain and suffering that they had to exist at the will and command of another. It felt wrong that the boy was still sitting naked, all but skin and bones, entirely unmoving on Rowan’s floor.

What other choice did Rowan have? Was there another way to communicate with this boy, one that wasn’t as direct as physical contact? Necessity, Rowan reminded himself as the boy’s face turned upward in his palm. I’m doing this out of necessity.

Even as he gently guided the boy’s face to look upwards, he refused to meet Rowan’s eyes, his gaze directed towards the floor. That was alright. It was going to have to be alright for a while, Rowan suspected.

After a moment he let his fingers fall away from the boy’s chin. He wouldn’t have admitted it, but he was relieved when his new houseguest held the position rather than dropping back to the ground.

“Hey there,” Rowan greeted. He did his best to smile. “I don’t know if you remember, but my name’s Rowan. I know this is new for you, but it’s new for me too. It’s new for both of us. I’m sure you’re probably scared, but we’re going to get through this. We’re going to have to learn together, alright?”

The boy didn’t even blink.

---

Master didn’t seem upset that Pet was holding still and looking up at him. By the hint of a smile on Master’s lips, it seemed that he was pleased by the unusual posture.

It didn’t dare meet Master’s eyes, of course, but now it could try and read his lips. Even if it couldn’t decipher the words that Master was speaking, it had already come to enjoy the soft murmur of Master’s speech. The kindness and warmth was enough for it to relax.

New… new… new for both of us… learn together…

Pet knew that it could do that. Pet was happy to learn new things for its Master, and it was going to try its very best to do them well. Failure meant punishment, but even worse, failure meant disappointing Master. Disappointing its old Master is what got Pet into this mess to begin with. It could handle any amount of pain, however Master chose to train it, but disappointment always burned the deepest.

Pet can be good. Pet can learn with Master.

---

It struck Rowan that now only was the boy still naked, but the stench of waste and sweat clung to his body. The putrid odor of the liquidation event had begun to seep into the room at no fault of the boy’s own.

Of course - Rowan privately scolded himself for forgetting. The facility never gave its victims the luxury of proper hygiene, and this one had been stuck at the liquidation event for days, before eventually being stuffed in a box. There was no wonder that the boy’s curls were slicked down with grease and dirt.

Rowan attempted a smile. He knew it didn’t reach his eyes, but how could it, when he knew how much pain this person had been through?

“How does a bath sound, yeah? Can we do that?” Rowan offered this enthusiastically. Rowan also knew that his bathroom was a bit of a disaster, scattered with half-empty shampoo bottles and skin care products he hadn’t used in weeks. He tried to soothe himself by rationalizing that the boy wouldn’t particularly care about the room’s cleanliness.

There was no reaction to Rowan’s offer, not a nod, not so much as a twitch. It was all he could do not to sigh, worried that any sighs would be interpreted as misplaced frustration. The last thing he wanted to do was set the boy on edge.

He remembered what worked earlier, the very gestures that had lured the boy to his bedroom in his first place. After giving himself a determined nod, Rowan took a few steps backwards, and gestured with a low hand to invite the victim to follow along.

Much to Rowan’s relief, the boy understood. He scampered forward on his hands and knees, eyes glued back to the ground, every bone on his gaunt frame showing. As much as Rowan would have preferred him to walk on two feet, this was going to have to do for the moment. Just enough to get him cleaned and settled in, nothing more. Then they would begin work on rehabilitation.

As soon as Rowan opened the door to the bathroom, the boy bolted forward and into the tub in a tangle of limbs and apparent enthusiasm. Rowan hadn’t spoken a single word or made a gesture. He smiled in spite of himself, and cocked his head to the side.

“Alright, I guess baths are okay? That’ll make this easier.” Rowan thought about the many victims that had been tormented by water, scalded or frozen at inhumane temperatures, or held beneath the surface until they drew mouthfuls into their lungs. To have a victim who was at least amiable to the cleaning process would relieve the burden on them both.

The boy had resumed the typical kneeling position in the tub, seemingly unbothered by the hard porcelain. Rowan figured it was best not to try and correct that for the time being. One step at a time. Be encouraging.

Rowan leaned over to the spigot and slowly turned it on, carefully easing the handle towards “H,” and diligently checked the temperature as water began to flow. Once it was comfortably warm he plugged the drain and watched as the clear liquid began to pool around the boy’s legs. Rowan almost swore he heard a contented sigh as the boy’s eyes slipped closed.

For the first time in more than a day, Rowan felt himself smile, a genuine smile. And for the first time, he felt that maybe he was cut out for this.

---

Pet was grateful for the washing before it even began. Its old Master was so particular in keeping Pet clean, and would have his servants scrub Pet down every day beneath a stream of hot water. Sometimes the soap was floral, other times it was citrus, but it always left Pet smelling wonderful. Handler never gave it such luxuries when it was sent back to the training facilities.

The water rose ever higher, first over its thighs, then over the pale skin of its stomach, until the water finally came to a stop right above its navel. It could have groaned with how pleasant the warm water felt on its aching legs and bruised knees. For a moment it nearly dared to speak, express its gratitude for the kindness, but knew better than to open its mouth without being told.

Still, it was a treat to have Master wash it rather than a servant.

Master gently cupped warm water over its head, and Pet closed its eyes tight to keep the water out. With each new splash of water Master continued to talk away, his voice nearly as warm as the water, wrapping around Pet’s shoulders along with the suds. Of course, the words were still indistinct, and Pet listened in case there was a command it could discern, but it was already starting to think that maybe Master just liked to talk. Pet wouldn’t mind that at all.

---

“I’ve never really had anything to name before,” Rowan mused aloud as he worked his fingers through the boy’s curls. The texture was so much deeper than his own, the ringlets rich with weight. He made a quick mental note that the dollar-store shampoo he used for his own pin-straight hair would most certainly not do in the future.

“You see, I had to name a goldfish when I was a kid,” Rowan continued as he began to rinse the shampoo out. “I had to name it, and I stalled for weeks. My parents kept asking me, and my sister kept bugging me about it, but I just didn’t have anything. My mom eventually suggested ‘Goldy,’ and I just went with it. But if you can’t tell me what you want to be called, at least not yet, you deserve a name. A proper one, something with a bit of dignity.”

He wondered if there were websites to help with such a thing. namesforyourbrainwashedhumanslave.com? It wouldn’t surprise him.

“You’re going to have to learn to wash yourself in the future.” Rowan gently wrung some of the water from the boy’s thick head of hair and hoped he wasn’t pulling on the roots. “It’s okay if that doesn’t happen right away. I’m more than happy to help, but I want you to feel comfortable doing things on your own, without having to ask me. You can come in here and have a bath whenever you want. The apartment incorporates the cost of utilities into the monthly rent already, which means we can use as much as we want at no extra cost. It’s nice to have almost unlimited heat in the winters, especially this far north.”

As he began to carefully wipe away the grime on the boy’s face with a warm cloth, Rowan nearly startled when the boy leaned into the touch. He hadn’t expected to feel pressure returned against his hand. After pausing long enough to pull himself out of the shock, Rowan pressed on and began to scrub at the dried blood on the side of the victim’s face. Flakes of muddy brown and deep crimson scabs covered the deep gouges that ran from his temples, down his ears and jawline, almost down to his neck. Given the extent of the damage, it was a wonder there was any skin left.

“I hope one day you can tell me how these got here,” Rowan murmured as he got a good look at the wounds for the first time. Blood flaked away and fell in hues of brown into the water, mixed with fresh red from the most recent and still-weeping wounds.

“I’m sorry,” Rowan whispered before he could stop himself, because he knew he had to be hurting the boy, no matter how gently he tried to proceed. The wounds were deep, and Rowan wondered if they needed stitches. How was he supposed to tell? Maybe they were too wide for stitches, maybe the scar tissue was already too well-formed.

They were different than the scars that Rowan had seen on other victims before, and he had seen the aftermath of many instruments of torture in his time. These scars were jagged, and they were as wide as three fingers across, as though they had been continually torn open. It was the first time Rowan saw them this close up, and he noted that the cartilage of the ears was warped and knobbed. Again, something like he had never seen before.

The water had turned a translucent copper color, and Rowan tried not to be sick as he reached in to drain the bathtub. A quick hand gesture and the boy got out of the tub and knelt back down on the bath mat.

Right, towels. Dry him off.

“Let’s get you dry, huh?” Rowan spoke. Maybe it would help ease whatever tensions were running through the boy’s mind if Rowan kept narrating what he was doing. He imagined it would be beneficial to take away some of the nerve-wracking suspense, and instead replace it with vocalized certainty.

Forcing a smile on his lips, Rowan grabbed the freshly-laundered towel he had set aside, and held it out in the boy’s line of sight.

“I’ve got a clean towel here. If you want to do it yourself, just grab the towel, and I’ll stop. Otherwise, here we go.”

As soon as the terry cloth made contact with the boy’s shoulders, he leaned into the touch, his upper body shifting a few centimeters closer to Rowan’s own. Again. This time, Rowan didn’t startle quite so easily. In fact, he was surprised at himself, and the happiness that blossomed in his stomach.

He knew he couldn’t take happiness in this forever. There was no joy to be taken in a human being that acted on inhumane training, a human who sought other human contact because they were told to, not because they wanted it. But if the boy wasn’t afraid of him and his touch, that was one small victory. Rowan had a feeling he was going to have to take the little victories for what they were.

“You’re doing great,” he said, not for the first time that hour. But this time, Rowan knew he might have been talking to himself as well.

---

Taglist: @honey-is-mesi @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @tragedyinblue @clairelsonao3 @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @peachy-panic @whumplr-reader @dislexiher @cc1010foxy @onlybadendings @panstardalia @tempoghast @whumpzone

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justplainwhump · 11 months

Note

⛑ for Adrian

Gauze

This is not entirely "tender" first aid, but I hope it's coming close.

Blanca takes care of Adrian's wounds.

[Pet Safety]

Content: BBU, BBU recovery, some light medical whump (as in, wound cleaning), very vaguely mentioned torture.

Bea was a quick learner and utterly unimpressed by the sight of wounds. Adrian's stomach got queasy even imagining what the holes ripped into his neck and shoulder like l looked like. The calming rhythm of Bea's breath on his skin didn't waver though. "Shhh," she mumbled, when he flinched under her touch. "You'll be better soon. You're healing."

He wondered where she'd learned such softness. She'd never been treated with it herself.

"Still hurts," he replied through clenched teeth. His voice was still rough.

"Healing hurts." Bea took another swab, applied disinfectant, and went to the clean next wound.

Adrian winced when it touched raw skin.

"You're not very good with pain," she observed. "Your scars say you should be used to it."

"Being used to it-" Adrian sucked in a breath when the swab brushed over an infected spot. "-does... doesn't make it better."

"Hmm," Bea hummed. "They never taught you to stop whining and keep smiling?"

"No," Adrian grimaced. "Who taught you that? The handlers?"

"Everyone," she said nonchalantly. "So they could make it a challenge to make me cry anyway. You, however - Making you cry wouldn't be a challenge at all, Adrian Delgado."

"Oh?" He tried to smirk at her, as well as he could without turning his head and putting even more strain on his wounds. "Is that what you're doing?"

Bea clicked her tongue. "I'm trying to not make you cry. That is my challenge. You're making it hard." She prepared another wipe. "Almost half way done. Next one is the deepest."

Almost half. Three out of seven wounds in total, where the desperate Guard Dog's titanium enforced teeth had pierced through Adrian's protective clothes and dug into his skin. He'd been lucky, the doctors had assured him. Without armour, the Guard would've have ripped his throat out.

Disinfectant stung at the next place.

Bea worked calmly and efficiently.

"Titanium teeth," she stated. "Only for the best Fighters. Going right for the neck. Like the Fighters are made to attack."

"Fighter isn't a WRU designation." Adrian sucked in another breath, when Bea's hands moved to a wound on his shoulder.

"Chewtoy isn't one either, you said." She pressed the disinfectant-soaked swab onto the last wound. "Your company's rules aren't universal."

His face contorted into something between a pained grimace and a frown. "What... what do you know about Fighters?"

Bea dropped the used swab into a bag. "That's a strange question to ask. There's a lot to know, probably. But all I know is, they're dangerous, and they're sad." She looked up and gave a half shrug. "But all pets are sad, so that's normal."

"How... How do you know that?"

"You feel it. In-"

"Not that they're sad. I meant... how did you meet Fighters?"

"Jack's Guard Dogs, they all fight." She tilted her head. "That's why he gave me to them. When they won."

Adrian let his head sink back and closed his eyes. Of course they were. Of course he did. Jack was just the type for that. And Adrian's boss had just made him drop the investigation.

"The... the sixth one, too?"

"Mac." Blanca's brow furrowed, even though her voice softened. "Mac's at the arena. He's, um." She pulled at her shirt and twisted to expose a scar on the back of her neck, and shoulder. A half moon of circular scars, arranged in a way too familiar pattern. "He's got enforced teeth, too."

Adrian swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. "Why?," he asked.

"Jack told him to." She rubbed the scars. "It wasn't... it wasn't bad. He didn't bite down hard. Not like the one who hurt you. He... he didn't do it for love. Mac..." She shrugged. "He held back." Decidedly, she reached for a package of gauze. "You'd have cried anyway, Adrian Delgado." Her smile is teasing, soft, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I didn't."

Bea lifted her hands to apply the bandage, but Adrian put a hand on hers to stop her.

"Bea. I..." He bit his lip, calling up the image of Jack, his ranch, his cowboy boots, his sickening smile, the drop of his voice when he'd tried to bribe Adrian, the gleam of the signet ring that had taken Bea's eye. He'd wanted to take that man down, even before he'd met the person behind the Chewtoy. "I want to help Mac."

I want to destroy Jack, he thought.

She shook her hand free and unwrapped the gauze. "Why?"

"Because it's the right thing."

Because I want to take everything away from Jack and see him fucking lose.

"You don't even know Mac." Her fingers were oddly cool, when she pressed the bandage on his skin and started to wrap the gauze around his neck. "He's angry."

"So am I."

Her finger was under his chin, lifting his face to look at her. There was something hard in her gaze. "Mac is not nice, Adrian. He does not want to be helped."

"Do you want to help him, Bea?"

The question seemed to catch her off guard. Her eyes widened a bit, before she shook her head. "I'm a pet. I... He... He's Jack's and I... I can't." She shook her head again. "No, Sir."

"Why?"

Something like anger flared up in her eye. "A pet doesn't care about another pet. A pet cares for nothing but her owner. A pet is loyal only to her owner. A pet-" Her voice had become flat, mechanical almost.

"Okay," Adrian whispered and lifted his hand, changed to his other hand when the strain at his wound reminded him of his limitations. Gently, he rested his fingers to her cheek. "Okay, Bea, it's alright, I won't ask this again tonight."

She closed her eye at his touch and weakly nodded. "I just want to be good," she mumbled. Light caught in her lashes, broke on a single tear. "Please, Master Adrian. Allow me to be good."

"Okay." He brushed away the tear. "Okay."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Little show-off," he remarked softly. "It's not so hard to make you cry after all, is it."

She chuckled a little bit against his chest, and it just vaguely sounded like a sob. "I'm not done with your wounds yet." She pulled back and looked up at him. "Don't make me change my careful approach, Adrian Delgado."

He turned his head, baring his neck to her to finish with the bandage.

He'd promised her to not ask again tonight. That didn't mean he wouldn't dig into it, right after she went to sleep. He'd find the sixth Guard Dog. He'd get him out of this arena, all of them. And he'd watch fucking Jack Donnell go to court for what he'd done.

A grim smile crept up on his face.

By his side, Bea tugged at the gauze, a tiny bit too harshly, bandage pressing against raw skin, and he let out a strangled whine.

"Told you," she mumbled into his ear. "Too easy."

Luckily, he couldn't turn his head.

Otherwise, he was pretty sure he wouldn't have been able to resist the overwhelming urge to kiss her.

---

Pet safety tag list: @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses @pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon @whumpinggrounds @somewhumpyguy @whumpzone @tragedyinblue e

#bbu #bbu recovery #adrian #Blanca #prompt fill #pet safety series #guard dog six

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a-crumb-of-whump · 2 years

Text

Max's Captivity #1: My Pet

Content: Drugging, break in, creepy whumper, stalking, defiant whumpee, captive whumpee, pet whump, kidnapping, suicidal thoughts/ideation.

Masterlist

Even as a kid, Max had never particularly… enjoyed his life. He lived with two parents who were rarely home through most of his childhood, and none of his family ever had the time to care for him. He spent most of his time alone, without any friends or even family to accompany him through the years, which inevitably forced him to find company in his favourite video game characters and stuffed animals instead.

Now, even if he was utterly miserable, he was alive with a house of his own and a crappy old car, and books from his childhood that he’d probably never end up reading again. He even had a little kitchen, where he’d heat up his microwave meals each night and make himself the occasional home-made meal, and a bedroom that housed all his favourite stuffed bears.

After going from nearly ending his life a year ago, he considered what he had now to be somewhat of a win. After all, he was alive, with a roof over his head and food to eat.

However, even with all those small victories in mind, nothing could have prepared him for the day he met his master.

It was only a month or so after he’d finally gotten his own place. He had come home from his second job interview of the week to find everything he’d worked so hard for in ruins beneath him. Books, glass, ripped up clothes – there was a little bit of everything tossed carelessly around the living room, making it virtually impossible for him to take even a step inside.

The sight made him want to cry.

“Shit,” he mumbled below his breath, lightly kicking the book laid out in front of him as his eyes scanned over the place. It had taken him so fucking long to finally get his life together – he didn’t think he could do it again.

“How d’ya like my artwork, pet?”

The eighteen-year-old just about jumped out of his skin at the sound of another person’s voice coming from right behind him. He spun around quicker than he could think, letting out a small scream at the sight of a man much taller than him towering over his small, hunched form, arms casually held behind his back.

“I worked rather hard on it, you know. Been here for a few hours at least. You really should be locking your doors…” Max yelped as he was grabbed by the throat and pulled in closer. “You wouldn’t want a creep to get in, now would you?”

“Get the hell off me,” the boy angrily spat. He struggled relentlessly against the stranger’s painfully tight grip on him, eyes slowly widening as his face inched closer to his own. “I don’t even know you! Get out!”

The man grinned a wicked grin. “Oh, I can’t do that. You haven’t noticed, but I’ve been watching you for a few weeks now, planning the right moment to take you for myself.” With his free hand, he began to tenderly stroke Max’s red face, seemingly delighting in the terror written all over him. “You’re perfect… god, you’re perfect. Got so much fight left in you. I like that in my pets, but I must admit, I can’t wait to see what you look like when you’re completely broken and submissive to me.”

Max was far too caught up in what the stranger was saying to notice him pulling a small, sharp syringe out of his pocket. He struggled and yanked fruitlessly against his grip, eyes teary with pure frustration and fear.

“Get the hell off me! Fuck you!”

“Hold still, would you?” the man groaned, doing his best to position the needle by his arm as quick as he could. All Max felt was the harsh prick of the needle sinking into his shoulder, a hiss leaving his lips at the sudden spike in pain. Much to his dismay, he didn’t take the needle out right away. In fact, his fighting only seemed to push it in deeper, and the pain worsened instantly. “That was a lot. I told you to hold still, didn’t I?”

“Wh-what was that? The hell did you do?”

He held up the syringe. “Just a little sedative. It’ll knock you right out so I can safely escort you back to mine. I know pets don’t exactly handle stress well, so… better safe than sorry.”

Max was completely out of it within a minute. During that time, he panicked and cried and shoved as hard as he could in hopes that he could buy himself just a moment to escape. However, he’d been given a lot, and it wasn’t long before he was shakily leaning into the stranger’s arms, head resting on his chest and his arms draped down beside him. Half-lidded eyes darted frantically around the place, every weak noise of protest he made slightly muffled against the man’s shirt.

“Don’t worry,” he heard the man whisper into his ear as he was carefully scooped up into a bridal carry. All he could do was hazily look up at him through glassed-over eyes, listening as he cooed and whispered condescendingly to him all the way to his car. “You’ll be home soon, pet.”

The voice that spoke to Max as he drifted unconscious in his own home was the same one that gently woke him up again many hours later. His body felt so heavy and drowsy from the drugs still in his system, and each time he made even a brief attempt to get up, his body ached in protest.

It wasn’t until he felt a hand brushing away the hair stuck to his clammy forehead that he whined and turned his face away, eyes shut tight. “Fucking leave me alone, you piece of shit.”

“Now, now,” the stranger scolded. For a moment, his fingers ran rather gently his fingers through Max’s hair, tenderly massaging his scalp as they trailed down, before he grabbed a fistful of it to keep him firm against whatever surface he was on. “That’s no way to talk to your new master.”

Max’s eyes immediately shot open to glare at him. He did his best to scramble away from him, but the grip on his hair was firm and though he hated to admit it, he had no way of getting up until he was let go.

“’m not your fucking pet,” he hissed. “Don’t even know you.”

The stranger smiled. “You’re right. I should introduce myself, shouldn’t I? I’m Trever, but you can - and will - call me ‘Master’ or ‘Sir’.” He paused for a moment, almost as if expecting some sort of response from the boy beneath him. Instead, he continued to spit profanities and insults at him as he wriggled and squirmed, trying to break free from his incredibly tight grip. “Now… you can fight me all you like, but that won’t change the fact that you’re mine now. I own you, and I hope for your own sake that you will eventually come to terms with that.”

“Never!” Max cried. “Get your hands off me!”

Much to his surprise, Trever eventually complied, the strangling grip on his hair releasing and the menacing grin on his face never fading. Right before Max could even think about getting up, however, his captor had already done so before pressing the heel of his boot into his neck, effectively restraining him further.

“Better?”

The teary-eyed boy could do nothing but glare up at him, teeth bared and his hands desperately trying to push his foot away from the base of his neck. He hated this. He truly hated this.

“Stop,” he finally managed to get out, his voice airy and strained. For a moment, he thought he even saw Trever considering it, the man’s foot easing off his throat and moving right down to the base of his stomach.

“Isn’t this fun?”

“Someone is gonna come for me,” Max growled breathily, doing his best to ignore the growing pressure on his stomach. He threw weak, half-hearted punches and shoves at Trever’s boot, his already bruised hands curled into a fist. Nothing worked. “Someone is gonna… gonna find me. Someone.”

This seemed to genuinely catch the man’s interest. “Really?” he raised an eyebrow. Much to Max’s surprise, his foot finally eased off his body entirely and he slowly crouched down beside his now hunched form. “Who do you think is gonna come for you, hm? Is there some mysterious friend I don’t know about?”

Truth be told, Max had no one. He never really had, and it was a shame that Trever knew. He wasn’t asking out of concern for himself. The bastard was amused.

God, what he’d do to wipe the smug look off his face.

When Max didn’t give a response, Trever smiled and reached out to grab him by the throat again, as he’d done back at his house. “Do you know why I picked you specifically, pet?” he asked curiously, pausing for a moment to scratch the little beard on his chin as Max scowled at him.

“No. Enlighten me.”

“I chose you because you have no one. No one in your life who cares about you, no one who would even notice you were missing. That is what makes you so perfect.” He brushed some of Max’s hair out of his eyes, watching as they immediately lit up with rage at the way he gently touched him. “You are I are gonna have so much fun. I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us.”

“I hope you burn in hell, you piece of shit.”

Max thought he heard Trever chuckle as he stood up once more, but if he did, it was barely loud enough for him to hear. He watched through exhausted eyes as the man scooped him up into his arms once more, still smiling from ear to ear. He looked so genuinely happy, and it pissed Max off to no end.

How can someone so cruel live so happily?

“Don’t worry, pet,” he murmured. “I’ll let you settle in before we begin your training. Would you like a bath? Some food? Water? Anything you want- within reason, of course.”

“I want to go home.”

Trever cracked a smile, propping Max up a little more upright as he shut the door behind him with his foot. “You’re lookin’ at it.”

As much as he hated it, he had to admit that it was a nice place. By his standards anyway. Each room was well lit, and there were many photo frames hung across all the walls, presumably with photos of him and his friends and/or family. There was a seemingly empty fish tank, and a fancy-looking bookshelf with dozens of books filling it, along with even more photo frames.

The dude had friends?

Despite all of that, what caught Max’s eye most was the big dog bed sitting by the couch in the living room. It had two bowls beside it, one filled half-way with dog food while the other had water.

As much as he didn’t want to say a word, he found himself asking anyway. “Do- do you, uhm- own a pet or something?”

“I sure do!” Trever grinned, and as if on cue, he carefully set the boy down on the dog bed with a pet to the head. “It’s you. Now, there’s food and water beside you, and some toys by the couch if you want something to play with. I’m afraid I’ll have to lock you up at night, though, but don’t worry; I got you a crate that’s more than big enough to fit you.”

Max’s eyes were now wide out of pure horror. “You’re not serious. You can’t be. I thought- I thought that was some kind of euphemism for a- a slave or something. You’re not seriously gonna treat me like a dog, are you?”

“Would you prefer it if I treated you like a slave?”

That was enough to send the boy quiet.

“That’s what I thought. Your training will begin tomorrow, so make yourself at home and make sure to eat plenty, yeah? I’ll come check on you in a little while. Oh,” he paused, causing Max to tearily look up at him. The man then reached into the little box of toys and brought out a stuffed bear. It was brown and tan, with a cute black and white dress on and a pretty white flower on its head. It was adorable, and had the circumstances been different, Max would have lunged for it immediately.

“I got you a little housewarming gift.”

Taglist: @whumpsday @whuarri @littlespacecastle @pigeonwhumps @inkkswhumpandstuff

#whump #whump stuff #whump things #whump thoughts #whump scenarios #whump fic #whumpee #whumper #whumper x whumpee #whumpee x whumper #defiant whumpee #creepy whumper #pet whump #captive whumpee

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whump-a-la-mode · 2 years

Note

If you are still doing requests

Maybe Villian Caretaker who finds their previous best henchman now being Hero Whumper's little pet/sidekick.

And them planning to rescue Sidekick Whumpee.

Even better if Villian at first thought Sidekick had betrayed them.

Oooh, this one is super creative, I love it! I hope you enjoy what I did with it. Villain whump and pet whump, the best combination. Thank you for your request! This is the last request I’m gonna be answering before I focus on my personal projects for a while.

Enjoy!!

CW//Pet whump, collars, alcohol mention

Villain worked alone.

Oftentimes, it was a fact that acted as a chain, tight around their neck, binding them in the low. After all, a single combatant against a group of enemies, a group of heroes, did not fare much of a chance. They had no backup, no getaway driver, no medic, and certainly no allies in combat.

Their solitude restricted their actions to the shadows.

That was never how they had liked it, not really. As most villains are, Villain was at one point theatrical, brash. They showed up where they pleased and made a wreck of things.

Those were the days.

Now, Villain grimaced at the ache in their feet as they stepped forward in uncomfortable dress shoes, raised heels threatening to throw them right off their balance. The tails of their suit jacket drifted off the backs of their thighs, making them jump at an invisible enemy every other second.

There had been a time as well that Villain had enjoyed parties. In fact, they had been the one often hosting them, spending a fortune on wine and staff. Passing between guests, striking up conversation, laughter, and the occasional dance if the music was right.

Ever since they’d receded from the lime light, there had been no more parties.

In fact, this was the first one they had attended in... Well, they weren’t sure how long. But this was no fun night with guests and wine. No, they couldn’t risk putting their guard down.

This was no party. This was a mission.

As with most missions that Villain went on nowadays, this one depended entirely on the facet of stealth. They had spent weeks, perhaps even longer, plotting how to acquire the Macguffin. Of course, the heroes had gotten to it first, and, of course, they had secured it in the deepest vault of their base. Going in guns a-blazing wouldn’t have gotten Villain anything but a prison cell or a grave.

When they had heard through the grape vine about the heroes’ Masquerade Party, well, the plan of action had been obvious. With a mask on, they could pass through the disgusting do-gooders like they were one of them, make it to the vault, take the Macguffin, and be out before anyone noticed.

Of course, in all their plotting, they had not given much thought to the fact they would have to actually move through the ballroom. More than that, they couldn’t just make a beeline for the back vault after walking in. No, they would have to socialize.

Disgusting.

Yet, so far, they had been achieving the goal, as abhorrent as it was. Toasting with an untouched wine glass, they had made their way through the room, chatting about weather, local politics, and recent events.

Soon, however, it would all pay off. The stairs were just ahead, and at their bottom, the vault door. Villain could feel their lock picking kit, weighing heavy in their pocket.

Almost, almost-

A bulky, well-muscled body stepped in front of them.

Villain’s stomach dropped to their feet.

They barely managed to bring themself to look up.

Hero’s shining grin looked down, back at them. Of course, it was shrouded behind a checkered mask, but even the smile could be recognized from a mile away.

They stuck one, bulky hand out at them. At first, Villain flinched, before realizing what their foe wanted-- A handshake.

Barely managing not to shiver, they obliged.

“Well, afternoon to ya’. This probably isn’t what you expected here, huh?” Hero began.

Villain quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Oh come on! You came here to have a good time, didn’t you? And you’ve been walking around like a sadsack the whole time! Let me guess, you’re too shy to strike up a conversation, huh? That’s alright, cause I’m not.

So, what’s your name?”

“I, uh-” Villain gave a nervous little laugh. “Well, it’s a masquerade, huh? Can’t tell you that.”

“Of course, of course.” Hero’s laugh was much louder, much heartier.

Villain took a step back, already looking for a way that they could get out of this situation. Searching back and forth, they soon came to realize something quite glaringly obvious that they had missed-- Hero wasn’t alone.

Standing next to the do-gooder was another person, far less bulky, with a bit of a wide-eyed, scraggly appearance about them.

Those eyes... Where did they know those eyes-

“What do you mean Henchman isn’t here?”

“They never came back from the mission, I- I’m sorry.”

There was a reason that Villain worked alone, and that reason had a name.

It was for that reason that their life had been destroyed. Every secret they had, revealed in days. The location of their secret base, their real identity, the identities of their henchmen, their sources of funding, all of it. They’d barely been able to keep themself out of the slammer, and building it all back had been even harder.

There was a reason that Villain worked alone, and that reason was the one who had betrayed them: Henchman.

Henchman, who now stared back at them. They certainly looked different than Villain remembered. Sure, they had always been small, thin, too. They weren’t a fighter. Now, however, those features were accentuated to an unhealthy level. Thinness had turned to being utterly gaunt, cheekbones practically poking out through their skin.

Not to mention, the little black leather collar they wore around their throat.

Villain gulped.

They wore a collar, and yet, not a mask. Maskless at a masquerade.

“Well, um- Hey, who’re you?” Villain turned to nervously address their betrayer, their proper Judas. “Don’t you know this is supposed to be a masquerade?”

Henchman smiled widely, but did not otherwise reply.

“Oh, don’t worry about them.” Hero gave the smaller Henchman a forceful pat on the back. “They’re still being trained, they don’t talk yet. But you have to desensitize them to crowds somehow. Do just try to ignore them.”

It took all of Villain’s will for their jaw not to drop to the floor. Mouth ajar, they gazed first to Hero, then to Henchman, then back again.

“What- What in the world are you talking about, you sick fuck?”

Hero’s eyes widened, but Villain had already taken a furious step back.

“What in the world is going on here? Henchman! Wake up! Stop playing! You’ve betrayed me once, tore my damn life to shreds, you don’t get to play this game too!”

Rabidly, Villain snatched a hand forward, trying to grip Henchman’s arm. Yet, Hero smacked it away.

Others in the ballroom were starting to pay attention now, too. Some began moving closer.

“You, you-” Villain stammered. But, they knew when they were beat. Spinning on their heels, they kicked off their ridiculous dress shoes before diving in the crowd.

As they ran, however, they could not help but think:

Could they be a reason other than betrayal that Henchman had not come home that night?

#villain whumpee #sidekick whumpee #henchman whumpee #whump #whumpblr #whump community #hero whumper #whumpee #whumper #hero villain whump #hero villain trope #hero villain prompt #hero x villain

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writteninsunshine · 3 years

Text

He’s Going The Distance - Chris Redfield/Ethan Winters - SFWish

Title: He’s Going The Distance

Author: Reno

Fandom: Resident Evil 7: Biohazard

Setting: Medbay, Post-Dulvey Incident

Pairing: Chris Redfield/Ethan Winters

Characters: Chris Redfield, Ethan Winters, Random Nurse

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Romance

Rating: M

Chapters: 1/1

Word Count: 1386

Type Of Work: One-Shot, Part of the For All These Times series, Whump Bingo Fill #2

Status: Complete

Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Pre-Slash, Canon-Typical Violence, Dissociating, Blood, Deep Wounds, Trans Male Character, Trans!Ethan Winters, Possible OOC for Chris, Medical Equipment, Medical Treatment, Stitches, Sutures, I.V.s, Pain Meds

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything.

Summary: Was Ethan truly so used to pain that he didn't notice that?

AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a writing Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Twitter!

More whump fic bingo! I’m really enjoying these, they’re too much fun to write. Oops, I like to punish Ethan even if he doesn’t deserve it. He’s so whumpable. I hope you guys are enjoying this, I know I sure am. This one is for my editor, Gryph, who is the best editor I could ever ask for. MAJOR shout out to her!

Resident Evil Fic Masterlist

Ethan Whump Bingo Fic Masterlist

He’s Going The Distance

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

There was an old thought resurfacing as Chris looked at Ethan. A man who could live through anything was what S.T.A.R.S. had wanted, Ethan would have been welcomed into the fold. The man was a machine when it came to surviving anything. Despite this, he seemed too oblivious to notice when something was wrong with him. All the healing fluid in the world couldn’t help the man with how much constant pain wracked his body. It was almost impossible to discern one pang of pain from the rest. That hand was a nasty wound, the staples not quite sanitary when they’d been secured into his skin.

But that wasn’t what he’d noticed just now.

“Ethan,” He began, his voice soft and wary as if speaking too loudly might shatter the other man. “You’re bleeding.”

“I am?” His voice sounded exhausted, hoarse, and so soft Chris barely heard him.

Tugging him closer for inspection, he unbuttoned Ethan’s shirt and pulled it away like a pair of curtains. Yanking up the undershirt he wore, Chris paused a moment to stare. Unable to help how his fingers splayed over the other’s stomach, eyes taking in the thick scars beneath his pecs. His thoughts turned away from the injury for a second, he only stopped when he reached the center of Ethan’s chest. He took in the soft peach fuzz there with a quirk of his lips he wasn’t in control of. Finally, his fingers fell over the thick gash leaking over Ethan’s pale skin, and the touch made Ethan recoil some.

“Don’t,” Chris warned, eyes narrowing a little as he reached around, pulling Ethan close again by his waist, a hand on his middle back, “You’re hurt. I’ll fix you right up.”

Leaving Ethan for a moment, he returned with a basin of warm water and a few washcloths. Where he’d gotten them from, Ethan didn’t know, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Dragging one wet cloth over the blood, he cleaned Ethan up despite his hisses and gasps of pain. What was the best option was going to hurt, so Chris started by applying a local anesthetic gel to the area around the wound. He must have found it when he brought the rest of his supplies, Ethan figured. He winced, flinching when Chris’s hands got too close to the weeping injury, but he sucked in a deep breath and bit the thin skin on the inside of his lip. It was all he could do to keep himself from making any more noise.

“I’m going to have to give you stitches.” Honestly, Chris was worried that Ethan was going to start leaking organs. It was deep, and he could almost touch the other’s rib bones. Ethan had really taken a beating, and it was hard to fathom how he hadn’t noticed this. Then again, he was in shock after everything that had happened, after all of the mental and physical trauma he had taken. Maybe it wasn’t such a strange occurrence.

After all, he was a civilian. He hadn’t been meant to find these kinds of things. If he had stayed away, he would have been blissfully unaware, but there might have been a worse problem on Chris’ hands by the time they arrived at the scene.

“Okay.” Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Ethan nodded just slightly to save him from aggravating his pounding headache, “Just… Do it quickly. I don’t feel good.” Swaying, he felt his knees begin to buckle, and Chris caught him in a tight embrace. This wasn’t going to work with Ethan standing, anyway.

Hefting him up bridal style, Chris carried Ethan like he weighed nothing. Sitting him down on a nearby gurney, he removed his shirts and set them aside. They were stained, torn to hell, and bloody. He’d have to get him a change of clothes. Helping ease him to lay down so that his right side was facing out, he ran a hand over the other’s chest in a hope to help calm him. Maybe it wasn’t entirely innocent, but he was trying to stay focused here.

“This might hurt, but I promise I’ll be quick.” All Chris got in return was a soft murmur he couldn’t hear, let alone understand. If nothing else, Chris was efficient, and Ethan looked like he was going to faint. That might help him do this without Ethan bellyaching the whole time. Stepping away, Chris grabbed a first aid kit, opening it up and setting it beside Ethan on the cot. Digging out a needle, some antiseptic, and surgical thread, he worked the thread through the eye of the needle and set to work.

The laceration was likely already infected, if not by something typical, then by the mold Ethan had been exposed to. With a little sigh, Chris poured some of the liquid over it, making sure to use gauze to get it inside. The forceps he had grabbed entering it made Ethan grunt, but he was too tired to try and fight it. Chris diligently worked on cleaning him up, wiping at more blood before grabbing the sterilized needle. He wiped it down again with a clean antiseptic wipe before starting with the initial stick. Ethan didn’t seem to notice this, due to the numbing gel, and Chris was glad for it.

With the easy glide of the needle and his skillful hands, he made quick work of the stitches, hoping not to bother Ethan too much. Once they were tight, he cut the cord and cleaned up the wound once more, wiping away the gel with a few medical towelettes, before drying the area. To make sure it would stay clean, he rubbed another cloth damp with warm water on the site before running more of the wipes over it. A dry rag then worked over the glistening flesh, and he didn’t stop until he had patted him dry.

“Ethan, I need you to sit up. I have to wrap this.” Chris spoke, breaking the silence in the room they were in. Unfortunately, it seemed that Ethan had fallen asleep, or maybe passed out, so he had no choice but to gently shake him awake. “Ethan, you have to sit up.”

Ethan nodded absently, slowly pushing himself up with the other’s aid. Bracing himself on his shaking arms, he let Chris wrap him up with gauze from his stomach to his shoulders, surprised by his gentle hands. Once Ethan was bandaged up, he was allowed to lay back once more, and Chris didn’t think about his next action. Kissing Ethan’s forehead gently, he petted a hand over the skin and the other’s sweat-damp hair.

“You should be alright, now. I’ll keep an eye on this.” Voice quiet, he smiled slightly, hoping to keep him at ease. It didn’t seem like Ethan was going to panic, though, too worn down to do much but flutter his eyelashes. “Sleep, now. I’ll get you some pain killers when you wake up.” God knew he’d need them. Moving the gurney around so that he could be more comfortable and closer to the setup for the I.V., Chris sighed in relief. Already asleep, or so he hoped.

Settling in a nearby chair, Chris pulled out his phone. He’d be stuck here for a while, for sure. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, he’d been set to guard Ethan while his tests were being done.

Ethan didn’t wake for what felt like hours, and when he did it was with a groan of pain. Chris was quick to give him water and a shot of morphine that he was instructed to administer through the I.V. that a nurse had given Ethan. At the very least, he was going to be taken care of.

“Thanks.” Ethan managed, his voice cracking halfway through.

“You need care.” That much was obvious. Chris combed a hand through the other’s blond locks once more. “If that means I have to do it, then so be it.” There was an odd fondness he felt for Ethan in this moment, watching him nod, his eyes glassy and distant. “You’ll be okay.”

With any luck, he’d bounce back from this. He’d been through hell already, what was another ordeal to save him?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

AN: There we go! It’s not super shippy but I’ll still tag it, just in case. Also, this probably makes more pain for the start of The Village, but that’s okay. I might write something about it when I’ve seen more of the game. I got it preordered for my birthday but it’s at my friend’s house until I can see her again. I’ve been watching it, however, so I’ll get there eventually. I hope you guys enjoyed it!

Prompt: Ethan Doesn’t Realize He’s Injured

#Resident Evil 7 Fanfic #Resident Evil 7 Fanfiction #Winterfield #Ethan Winters #Chris Redfield #Injury

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

Note

Hi. I'm sorry to bother you. Can I request some domestic witchersexual Jaskier?? I just had to put my 6 year old doberman down because she had an autoimmune disease and wasn't getting better and I'm really sad and I have read most of the new fics on tumblr and AO3 but alot of it is whump or Angst and I can't deal with that right now.

I am so sorry to hear about your doberman! It’s never easy to lose a beloved pet. If there is anything beyond writing something to take your mind off things that I can do, please do drop me a line either via ask or DMs. This story turned a little less domestic with not all focus on Jaskier but...hopefully it still gives you the comfort you crave.

Rumours were rife. Witchers, already a dying breed, were disappearing without a trace. No body to recover, no contract to follow the trail of. One minute a witcher was travelling in his usual stomping grounds, the next, he was never seen again. It had Vesemir fretting. Just because he was responsible for Kaer Morhen didn’t mean he was blind and deaf to the stories that were rife. Strangely, despite the witchers disappearing, there wasn’t an abundance of creatures running rampant.

Of course Vesemir worried for his pups. He worried for all witchers but his own boys were special to him. When winter came and Lambert turned up, followed not long after by Eskel, Vesemir could almost relax. A crow from Geralt reassured him that his wolves were all okay and whatever was snatching witchers hadn’t been able to get to them. It didn’t take much to gently extract a promise of regular communication with them throughout the following year. Messages were regularly sent back, letting Vesemir know that the unseen enemy hadn’t snatched them. Yet.

Despite their best efforts, Eskel stopped writing. Even when Lambert and Geralt rushed to where he was last seen, there was no trace of him, nothing. That winter, Eskel didn’t return home and they mourned him.

If only Eskel had been enough for the monster that seemed to hunt witchers exclusively. However, Lambert made it down from Kaer Morhen in the spring and was never seen again. Vesemir tried to remind himself that this was a witcher’s life. Solitary, filled with loss, grief and there was no hope of a happy ending. At least he still had Geralt, the shining star of the Wolf School. Deep down, Vesemir found it fitting that Geralt would be the last one standing of his pups, even if Eskel had been his equal in all but fame.

Witchers didn’t travel together, there wasn’t enough work in any area to support one, let alone two witchers. But Vesemir didn’t want to be the last Wolf in existence and he didn’t want to lose Geralt. Not when they had both lost so much already. Kaer Morhen could lock its doors for one last time. It was already crumbling and Vesemir didn’t think he would be returning, not if he went out on the path, shadowing Geralt in a parallel path, occasionally meeting up.

If anything, contracts were more scarce than ever before despite there being fewer witchers. It made no sense and Vesemir couldn’t understand. There was no explanation for it but he trudged on, determined to do what he had been created for. If there were fewer witchers in the world, he would pick up the slack.

Camping was harsh, sleeping on the ground made Vesemir’s bones ache. It was a witcher’s lot in life to weather the discomforts, even in old age. In the morning, Vesemir packed up camp and trudged out onto the road. He and Geralt were heading towards Nilfgaard, an army always left necrophages in its wake so it was a guaranteed income. Somewhere in the distance, there was singing and the soft strum of lute drifting through the air. A fellow traveller, a happy one at that. Unintentionally, Vesemir slowed his steps and let the singer slowly catch up.

“Fine day,” the brightly coloured man called, bouncing along as he played. He definitely kept strange company, an elf who smiled indulgently.

“Made all the brighter by your cheer.” Even if Vesemir wasn’t a fan of the style of music, he could still be polite and appreciate the attitude if not the noise.

“Thank you, kind sir.” The bard took a bow. “I’m Jaskier, this is my friend Chireadan. Mind if we accompany you along this path for a while?”

A bit of company was always welcome, even if Vesemir used it to gather information rather than make friends. The two made for curious travellers, seemingly defenceless, not a sword or dagger between them. It had Vesemir wondering just how they had survived for so long.

Chatter turned from pleasant chitchat to current events to probing questions. It was such a subtle shift, Vesemir didn’t notice until he was being asked quite pointed questions about being a witcher.

“So in all your 300 and something years, you’d never been able to rest?”

Vesemir blinked. “Well, maintaining Kaer Morhen was as much of a break as any witcher could have.”

It only drew a hum from Jaskier. “So single-handedly being responsible for a large keep, repairing it, ensuring crops grow around it to keep four, five, maybe even six witcher bellied full over winter, thinning out the forktails so when your pups and stragglers return home they won’t have to fight as hard, that counts as a break, yes?”

When put like that...Vesemir shrugged it off He did what the world demanded of him, no more, no less. It didn’t seem to deter Jaskier.

“What about a true rest? If I could offer you something, would you take it?”

“No.” Because Vesemir couldn’t abandon Geralt. Not when it was just Geralt left. Even if the others had still been around, Vesemir couldn’t in good conscience leave them behind to live a harsh life with nobody to greet them home each year.

“If it’s Geralt you’re worried about, I promise it’s okay. He’ll be there too.”

Perhaps Vesemir should have been more alert and distrusting. An elf and a bard, unarmed and yet seemingly so at ease in the world. There had to be something more to them. But his medallion didn’t sing, didn’t hum, there wasn’t even the slightest bit of vibration to it. Human and elf. Nothing more. And yet.

“You’ve served your time. You can relax now,” Jaskier murmured softly, swaying closer and putting a hand on Vesemir’s back to guide him.

“Are you Death?”

The sharp, bright laugh suggested that Vesemir was wrong.

“If he is Death, what does that make me? I’m a healer by trade,” Chireadan chipped in. He had been quiet for most of their shared journey, smiling fondly and staring off into the distance, aloof like most elves. “Let us show you what we offer.”

They stopped in the middle of the dusty road with nobody around for miles. Jaskier fished something out of his pocket and, with a lot of fidgeting and even more cursing, a portal suddenly opened up. It was portable, contained chaos and Vesemir took a step back.

“It’s okay.” That was Geralt’s voice and he stepped out of a portal from behind Vesemir. “I fucking hate portals but you can trust that one.”

Whatever trickery this was, Vesemir didn’t trust it one bit. However, Geralt urged Roach through before turning to him with a lopsided smile. “Come home.”

With that, Geralt stepped into the portal and Vesemir reached for him, wanting to pull him back.

“What’s it going to be, my Lone Wolf?” Jaskier asked. Chireadan had stepped through the portal too, waving with a quiet “see you in a minute” which was just a little presumptuous.

Steeling himself, Vesemir gave in. He’d had enough, all the fighting, the loss, the grief, it was enough. Even if this was a trick, he realised there was no point in resisting. His pups were gone, Kaer Morhen wasn’t a place to live alone, contracts were more and more scarce. It was time to put down his swords and accept whatever was on the other side of the portal. Vesemir didn’t look back as he stepped through, feeling the world lurch around him.

The other side was bright, breezy and noisy. Water lapped at the shores of a beach and there was life bustling around him, laughter and...people shouting his name. Geralt stepped closer first and squeezed his shoulder.

“Welcome to The Island.”

Behind Vesemir, Jaskier had stepped through and the portal closed. More people were approaching. Ciri was running towards him like she was still a child. Behind her was- Vesemir’s breath hitched. There was Eskel and Lambert on either side of Jaskier. And Coen. And Aiden. Letho. Wolf, Cat, Griffin, Viper, Bear, all the schools’ surviving witchers, smiling, laughing and happy. It was beyond anything Vesemir had ever seen or even dared hope for.

“What?” He choked out.

“The world didn’t need us any more. And we didn’t need them,” Geralt explained. It wasn’t all witchers, there were a couple of sorceresses, elves and humans too. They all looked comfortable and happy.

“It all started with Eskel,” Jaskier said, an arm around the witcher in question’s waist. “An enchanted bear trap caught him out.” It explained why he limped probably. “It was just me at the time and the idea of a retirement retreat was barely a babe in my mind. But Triss helped heal him and I started travelling with Chireadan. Needed to make sure I could get every hurting witcher home.”

“Actually, Jaskier wanted a sex island,” Lambert butted in. Vesemir noted that he looked at peace, smiling without any of the bitterness he’d been weighed down by over the years. “Eskel couldn’t run. I didn’t want to run. Eventually Geralt let himself get caught. Like a stray cat Aiden turned up. Then Ciri dragged her friends with her. A Jaskier’s got a lot of love to give if they want it.”

Geralt smiled at the stunned look on Vesemir’s face. He clapped him on the shoulder.

“I said welcome to The Island earlier but what I actually meant was welcome home.”

#geraskier #witchersexual jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #vesemir #eskel #lambert #chireadan #tldr: witchers get a retirement island

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shhh-no-ones-home · 3 years

Text

how to save a life bucky barnes x reader

+++++++++

Good old whump 😌 this is so fucking long (wc: 2113)

also i know some people are weird about dogs so just know reader has a very large typically seen as aggressive kind of dog (but hes not, just a little slobbery and awkward lol)

Song: say something by danny worsnop and matty mullins

tag list: @cynic-spirit

+++++++++

"I can't take your shit anymore. If you won't do anything about it then I will! I quit!"

I yelled, untying my apron and tossing it at my manager. One of the cooks had been harassing me for the last couple weeks and he refused to say or do anything. But I had reached my breaking point.

"Come on y/n, we need you! You can't leave me short staffed like that."

He whined and I shook my head, making my way to the back door.

"No, fuck you Rodney, you can find someone else to deal with it."

I said annoyed, clocking out, grabbing my stuff and storming out the back. I gave him the finger as the door slammed behind me, sighing angrily at myself for not finding a new job sooner.

"Fuck!"

I yelled, kicking the brick wall before leaning into it, shoving my head in my hands. Then I heard a harsh cough. My attention snapped towards the man limping through the alley way, seemingly clutching at his side.

"Hey, are you okay?"

I asked, reaching into my bag and gripping my pepper spray tightly.

"Sir?"

I asked again, moving closer to him in the darkness. When he looked up at me I realized who it was. I had seen pictures of him before. What was his name? James? Yeah captain Americas bear friend. From the museum.

"Help."

He managed before falling face first into the dirt. I gasped as I watched his body go limp. In that moment I wasn't quite sure what to do. I couldn't call someone cause I didn't know who to call, and God it was gonna take everything in me to get him back to my apartment. But I couldn't just leave him here. Shit. I sighed before kneeling down and rolling him over. His face was bruised and bloodied, the same as the knuckles on his hand. He must have really gotten into it with someone. I bit my lip before sitting him up with a groan.

"Okay james, work with me here."

I sighed out, going around him and picking him up. He made a soft noise and I looked at him, his eyelids bobbing open for a second.

"Two blocks, that's all it is."

I told myself more than anything, slinging his arm over my shoulder and walking with him dragging his feet. The whole walk was labored breathing and groaning. He was heavier than he looked but then again he was pretty much solid muscle. And though he wasn't much help I could tell he was trying. That endurance was paying off a little bit. But as soon as we were to my apartment he was out, practically falling through the door after I opened it. I only just caught him, laying him on the floor gently and dragging him to the couch. As I tried to put him on it I could hear my dog whining and tapping his toes in his crate.

"Give me a minute Wolf."

I said half annoyed as I got James flat on his back. When I was content with him laying there I let my massive akita-rottweiler mix out of his crate. He immediately went to James and started sniffing him excitedly until I snapped my fingers at him.

"Hey, leave the nice man alone. Let's go potty."

I said, him barking and running towards the door. I quickly got his leash on and took him down to the streets of new York. We walked a good block before finally heading back to my apartment. After I took Wolfs leash off he was right back in James' face.

"Hey, what did I say? Go lay down."

I instructed, him making a sad sound before pouting his way to his large bed in front of the window. I sighed, looking over James with my hands on my hips. Then I noticed a darkened spot just under his jacket and immediately began to worry.

"Shit. Is that blood?"

I said, stepping closer. I watched his face as I knelt down, pushing the coffee table further away from the couch.

"James I don't know if you can hear me but I'm gonna undo your jacket."

I said in a clear voice, watching to see if he moved but he didn't, prompting me to go on anyway. When the front of it was undone I gasped. He was indeed bleeding. It took me a minute to get it fully off, his shirt following right after. To my surprise his whole torso was covered in scrapes and bruises, along with what seemed to be a gunshot wound. Luckily it was only a graze. That I could treat.

"What the hell were you doing?"

I asked out loud even though I knew he couldn't hear me. I shook my head before going to get the first aid kit from under my bed, wolf following me around my apartment. I guess lucky for him I went to medical school, I mean I flunked out my last semester, but still. That's only three months I'd have to finish before I'm a licensed nurse. I had this. Right?

"God I hope I don't have to sew this man shut."

°°°°°°°°°

The next few hours I just sat at my breakfast bar staring at him in the living room, sipping coffee and trying not to wake Wolf who was now fast asleep at my feet. I was waiting patiently for him to wake up, to make noise, to move even an inch. but it never happened. He was however still breathing, the portable heart monitor I had attached to his finger beeping softly.

When the sun started peering through my curtains though I figured it was best to check on him again. After all, I would need to change his bandages soon so whatever it was that hit him didn't get infected. Wolf for one was very excited again for me to be working on the stranger, running to him and getting in his face again.

"Wolf!"

I scolded, James jolting upright as I pulled the collar back on his large black neck.

"Sorry."

I said through a nervous laugh. He looked around for a moment before looking down and wincing in pain as he touched his abdomen.

"Go lay down."

I said harshly, wolf not quite budging at first. But going when I nudged him with my knee.

"Um, I hope you don't mind that. I did as best I could but it's been a while. I was gonna come change them."

He stared at me, looking to wolf in his bed when he sighed.

"Thank you."

He said softly and I nodded.

"Do you mind laying back down? It's a little easier."

I said and he did, slowly, watching my every move as I knelt beside him. I dug into my kit to get new dressing, peeling the old off and shaking my head. It was still bleeding but there wasn't much I could do about it.

"Do you remember much about last night James?"

I asked and he shook his head no, the dog tags around his neck shifting. I focused intently on what I was doing, hearing wolf sigh again. I rolled my eyes, sending him a playful look.

"You aren't afraid of dogs are you James?"

I asked and he shook his head again.

"Okay wolf, come here."

He stood quickly, panting as he came over and stood beside me, looking like he had a wide smile on his face as he sat down. James looked up at him and smiled back, bringing his right hand to scratch at wolf's head. It was a good distraction as I fixed his wounds for a second time. As I put the stuff away I was forced to remember he was still shirtless.

"Oh uh, I washed your shirt too, it was pretty soaked through."

He nodded, making a pained face as he moved to sit up, letting me help as he did. Wolf took that as an invitation to get on the couch, his large dog body taking up a good portion of it as he laid across James' lap. I looked to the ceiling as he laughed, petting him some more.

"I'm so sorry. If you want him off all you have to do is tell him to get down."

I said standing up, going to the kitchen to wash my hands.

"I don't mind it, he reminds me of an old friend."

He lamented as I came back, wiping my hands on a towel.

"They must've been one hell of a friend."

He nodded slowly.

"Hey uh, you can call me Bucky. if you want."

I reached for his hand and shook it.

"Y/n."

"Thanks for this y/n."

I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I'm not gonna lie James, uh Bucky, I was a little shook up last night. I had just quit my job when you came stumbling down the alley I almost wasn't sure what to do with you. And I know as a citizen I probably should have called an ambulance but as an ally..."

I paused. he looked a little more into what i had to say now.

"I've, well, I've been around the block with a string of heroes before and none of them could ever actually get help from paramedics. So I did what I could."

He nodded.

"I really appreciate it y/n, I must've been desperate after all, to go to a complete stranger."

He laughed.

"I'm just glad you found me and not someone else. Or who knows what could have happened."

"those were my thoughts exactly."

there was a long pause, me standing awkwardly and both of us staring at the floor. then Wolf barked, taking both of our attention as i jumped at the sudden sound.

"guess he agrees."

i said and he laughed again.

"ya know i really appreciate this. is there a way i could repay you? some how?"

he asked and i shook my head.

"no, i couldn't let you do that. really."

i said quickly, holding my hand out, watching as he struggled to stand.

"i want to."

he insisted, stumbling forward and i caught him. he panted out a pained noise.

"knowing you're safe is enough. come over here, lets get you something to eat."

i said, walking him slowly to the bar i was just sat at and feeling his back muscles strain against my palm as i held him upright.

"careful, you keep taking care of me i might never leave."

he said through a wince as i placed him in the chair.

"promise?"

i laughed and he sent me a soft look before smiling. i could feel the blush run across my face as i moved to the fridge, making a face like i was an idiot for saying that.

"uh i went to school to be a nurse after taking care of my last boyfriend. he was terminally ill but didnt want to stay at a care facility. i guess ive kind of been missing it since he passed last year."

"im sorry."

he said quietly as i pulled things out of the fridge for breakfast.

"its alright. ive been getting by. plus i have wolfie over there to keep me busy."

i said with a smile, the large dog wagging his tail as he sat at the edge of the kitchen.

"im sure he appreciated all you did for him."

bucky said and i nodded once, moving to the stove.

"uh, how do you like your eggs?"

he turned in the chair to look at me.

"what's your specialty?"

i laughed.

"anything but poached."

he smiled widely at me.

"over easy please."

"great. that i can do."

there was another long silence as i began frying the eggs. then he cleared his throat.

"would it be a little Stockholm syndrome-y to ask you out after saving my life?"

i let out a short, loud, laugh before looking at him.

"oh you're serious?"

i asked and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.

"unless youre not looking but the least i could do is take you to dinner."

i nodded slowly, plating the food and setting the plates on the counter.

"im not but i wouldnt say no to dinner. and who knows, maybe id be open to seeing you after. maybe with a shirt and not bleeding on my couch."

he picked up the fork and raised it in cheers to me.

"ill take it. and its the least i could do. as a thank you."

"its a date then."

#wattpad #x reader #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #winter soldier #the falcon and the winter soldier #one shots #imagines #captain america #White Wolf #marvel #331

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spookyboywhump · 3 years

Text

There might be some more follow ups for Doll but for now, a reunion (with some bonus plot stuff uwu)

Also I should’ve clarified this before but this whole lil Doll arc takes place some time in the future from when they’ve gotten out

CW: Past pet whump, dehumanization, mute whumpee

***

Unfortunately, the man wasn’t particularly helpful in providing information about his life before Nicholas. If anything, he seemed to panic when asked, which meant they were struggling to find his real identity and by extension, anyone who could possibly help him. He didn’t match any missing persons reports within the last several years, he couldn’t remember his name, it almost seemed as though whatever life he’d had before simply ceased to exist. The thought of it made Eli shudder.

Due to the difficulty he was having, he was quite surprised when Lane stopped by the room, opening the door to speak to him.

“Hey, somebody’s here for him.” They said, gesturing to the man.

“What? Did you figure out who he is?” He asked, confused that they could’ve managed to do that before even he knew anything. At the very least, he would’ve liked to have known before now.

“Sort of. Turns out his old employer has some sort of partnership with us, someone here must’ve let them know or something, they didn’t really tell me all the details.” They shrugged “From the way it sounds though, our little friend there was involved in some shady shit himself”. Eli wasn’t sure how he should feel about this, he looked to the man who seemed nervous, keeping his head down now that Lane was here. He figured if something was wrong, if this person shouldn’t be here, then he could stop things before they got bad.

“Alright, send them in…” He said hesitantly, and Lane nodded, stepping away. It only took a few moments for this person to appear in the doorway, a tall dark haired man with a worried look in his brown eyes, which widened the second he laid eyes on the man sitting across from Elias.

“Lexi…?” He said softly, and of all the reactions Eli expected from him, none of them matched the one he saw.

The man, “Lexi”, was staring at him with wide eyes but he didn’t look excited or relieved, he looked terrified, and after only a moment of recognizing this person he abruptly jumped up, trying to back away only to trip over his own feet, falling to the floor and causing Eli to jump up to help him, however the other man seemed to already be trying to do the same. Every step closer he took though, Lexi would back away, until his back hit the wall, he curled up while still staring at the man.

“Lexi, please, you, you know me-“ He said, but the man kept shaking his head, repeatedly mouthing the word “no”, and as he stepped closer Lexi suddenly threw his hands up to cover himself, as if expecting to be hit, and that’s when Eli finally got between them, forcing the taller man back.

“Leave him alone, can’t you see he’s terrified?!” He snapped, and the man backed off immediately, something Elias hadn’t quite expected.

“I’m sorry- I just- I haven’t seen him in years, what’s wrong with him?” He asked, and Eli looked back at Lexi who was still curled up, still mouthing the word “no” and looking at Eli desperately.

“I need you to back away from him, please.” He said, calmer this time. The man obliged, still looking worriedly at Lexi as Eli finally moved away from between them, glancing down at Lexi. “Do you need to say something to him or to me?” He asked, picking up the notepad and pen, to which Lexi frantically nodded, reaching his hands out and grabbing for them, Eli quickly handing them over to him. While he frantically scribbled on the paper, Eli looked to the man. “Can you tell me your name? And his name for that matter- how do you know him?” He asked.

“My- My name is Leon Morales, and that-“ He pointed to Lexi, “Is Alexei Antonov. He’s my boyfriend, we were together for three years before he went missing when he was twenty-five.” As he spoke, he fumbled with his wallet, pulling out an old ID card that very clearly showed the man on the floor, along with all his important information. He handed it to Eli, and he decided to hold on to it to show Alexei once he’d calmed down. He looked over at him now and he’d stopped writing, holding the notepad and pointing at Leon, staying relatively calm when Eli took it and handed it to the man. Leon’s eyes widened as he looked it over, and Elias waited until he offered it to him to take it and read it over.

Go away go away go away he’s going to kill you if you speak to me you have to leave you have to go before he finds out master doesn’t like you master said he would kill you and I can’t let him kill you please just go before he finds out I’m not yours anymore I’m sorry go away go away go away go away. He’d written it over and over, becoming less legible the longer it went on. It made Eli’s blood run cold just to read it, and he took his time to think about what to do next before looking to Leon.

“You don’t need to leave for good, but can you wait outside the room for a few minutes? I’ll come get you when he’s ready.” He said gently, and after sparing a worried glance at Alexei, Leon nodded, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him, letting Elias focus all his attention on Alexei now. He took it as a good sign when he didn’t flinch away when he got near, still watching him warily though. “Is it alright if I sit down with you?” He asked gently, and Alexei nodded.

He sat down in front of him, still holding the notepad and pen in one hand, but the other still had the ID card, which he held out to him.

“Is this… is this you…? Can you remember…?” He asked him. Alexei took it from him, taking his time looking it over before he slowly nodded. “Do you remember that man? Was he your partner?” He asked gently, and Alexei nodded. He couldn’t help but notice tears shining in his eyes. He reached for the notepad again and Eli gave it to him, staying on the floor with him while he wrote. His hand was still shaking but he went slower this time, less frantic than his previous outburst, and after some time he handed the paper to him.

Leon was my boyfriend. I loved him very much but master didn’t like that. He said if Leon found me or if he got near me or if he ever spoke to me or touched me then he would kill him. I told master I forgot about him. Don’t tell master but I still love Leon I don’t want him to be hurt. Tell him to leave, please, tell him I love him but he has to leave

“I… I don’t think you need to worry about your master.” He said slowly. “I promise, he’s not coming after you, he’s not going to hurt you or Leon. You… if you want to, you can go home with him. I promise you, you’re safe now…” He said. Alexei still didn’t look too sure of this, reaching up and wiping at his eyes. “Do you want to talk to Leon? I can give you two some time alone if you’d like…” He offered, and after a while of thinking it over Alexei nodded. Elias left the notepad and pen with him before getting up, leaving the room to find Leon anxiously pacing the hallway.

“Is- Is he okay?” He asked immediately, a scared look on his face.

“He’s… He wants to talk with you.” He said, avoiding answering the actual question. “You can go in by yourself, I’ll stay out here but you can come get me if you need anything.” He said, opening the door for Leon. He left it cracked this time, without Alexei’s voice he wouldn’t hear a shout or scream if things went wrong so he tried to just barely listen in just in case anything happened.

Things were quiet for the duration of their conversation, Eli could just barely hear Leon as he was speaking quietly and calmly. It sounded like it was going well, it lasted for a while, and finally, Leon came back to get him. He looked better, almost hopeful now.

“He, Uh, he wants to tell you something, he’s writing it down now.” He said, and Eli followed him back into the room. Alexei finished up soon enough, and Eli hoped for the best as he read it over.

If you really mean it that my master will not hurt us then I’d like to go home with Leon. I would like it if I could still contact you somehow just in case.

“Of course, I can leave you a way to get in touch with us without having to make a phone call.” He said, scribbling something down on the same paper. Beneath it, he left a simple message, If he is making you do this you can tell me now and I’ll make him leave. Alexei smiled just slightly when he saw it though, making eye contact with Eli and shaking his head before tearing the page out, folding it up and keeping it close to himself. He handed the notepad back to Eli, and he flipped through it, tearing out just a few pages of important things Alexei had written down before giving it back to him. “You can keep this, you probably need it.” He said, and Alexei nodded. He already looked to be doing better after his talk with Leon, and really all Elias could do was hope this would be good for him.

***

He left work late that day. There was a lot of paperwork to do before Alexei could get out of there, and after that he returned to his desk to find Lane had left part of the report from Elle, stuff about their owner that would be important to include in Alexei’s file. It took him time to read through it all, horrified by what he read about their owner, and then it took even longer for him to write up the necessary reports. He was one of the last people to leave that night, and instead of going home he ended up at Zander’s house. Right now, he felt that he needed him.

Now he laid on his bed, staring up at the glow in the dark stars stuck to his ceiling. Zander was at his desk, Eli hadn’t seen what he was doing on his computer and he didn’t really care all that much, still mulling over the events of the day. After a while of a comfortable, relaxing silence, he spoke up.

“I met someone today.”

“Really? Someone interesting?” He asked.

“Yeah. His name is Alexei. He can’t speak.”

“He’s mute?”

“He was made that way. He showed me the scar.” He said, and finally Zander turned around to face him.

“Somebody cut his vocal cords…?”

“Nicholas did. Or- he had somebody do it.” He said, anxiously fidgeting with his fingers where they rested on his stomach. “He- He used to belong to Nicholas, he was his last pet, he was, he… Nicholas said that I reminded him of him…” Zander didn’t say anything at first, and that was enough for Elias to keep going. “He- He almost looked like me too, our hair is kinda different colors- I mean obviously, since mine is fucking teal but like, his isn’t that far off from my natural color, he has blue eyes and freckles, he’s close to my height, that… that can’t be a coincidence, the way Nicholas acted with me…”

“Eli, I’m sorry…”

“That’s the thing, this isn’t my problem anymore! Alexei is the victim here, I’m just overreacting!”

“You’re not overreacting.” He assured him. “You know that both of you can be victims of Nicholas’.”

“I know, I know but… I feel stupid complaining when Alexei was rendered mute and then thrown away like he was fucking nothing! That fucking bastard got bored and threw him away- and fuck, did you know about their owner?!” He sat up now, looking at Zander.

“Kid, you’re gonna have to be way more specific than that.”

“His name is Robert Arison-“

“That name rings a bell but I heard a lot of names in my time there.”

“He worked with Cain, he dealt with international pet trades- do you realize how fucking big that is!” He didn’t wait for an answer, he knew Zander knew better than anybody. “That’s a whole other fucking issue, god it feels like it’s never fucking ending and we’re running out of room for the rescues- not everyone has friends or family readily available, if it hadn’t been for someone tipping off his old employers I’d still be completely lost with Alexei!” He groaned, anxiously running his hands through his hair. “I know it’s good, I know, I know we’re helping as much as we can but I just… I feel like it’s not enough…”

“You’re doing as much as you can…” Zander said gently. “Not to mention, this is still a fairly new operation for all of you, right? It’s going to take some work to organize everything to run smoothly. I think you’re doing pretty well, especially given how stressful it must be for you in particular.”

“We’re doing well but it’s… I don’t know if it’s enough, especially at the rate we’re getting people out of there… not to mention, we don’t even have the authority to deal with the fuckers holding them hostage and the actual authorities are fucking useless.”

“You can thank Charles Whitaker for that.” Zander muttered.

“Well fuck Charles Whitaker! Fuck him, and fuck Cain Whitaker, and fuck Nicholas and Clement and Robert Arison, fuck all of them!” He cried, snatching up one of Zander’s pillows and burying his face in it, letting out a muffled scream. He felt the mattress dip next to him as Zander sat with him, draping his arm around his shoulders. He leaned into him immediately, finally relaxing at his touch. They were silent for a while, Zander holding him close, before he finally spoke up.

“I… I want to help…” He said slowly.

“You are helping…” He murmured.

“No, I mean I want to help.” He said more seriously this time, and Elias finally lifted his head to look at him. “I… I mean it’s probably way too late, it’s been months but… if that offer from your boss is still open…”

“Zander… you don’t have to do that… I’m just bitching, you don’t…”

“No, I’ve been thinking about it for a while actually.” He sighed. “I was there for seven years. I lived surrounded by those people, I know them and I know what they do- and I know how the dogs think. If I can help then… then I’d like to…”

“You know it’s difficult… it’s exhausting and sometimes scary and I… I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready for.”

“I can’t sit around here forever. Truth be told it’s probably a fucking miracle in terms of jobs I could have right now, and if I have information that could be helpful then I should be there with you. It’s not really fair for me to stay away.” Eli knew he was kind of right, knew he could be more helpful than any of the clueless fucks running around trying to handle this- himself included. His boss hadn’t brought it up since he first told her Zander declined but he figured it couldn’t hurt to bring it up again.

He just sincerely hoped Zander was making the right choice.

***

Tag List: @ihaventwritteninsolong , @galaxywhump , @legallylibra , @to-whump-or-not-to-whump , @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi , @as-a-matter-of-whump , @grovegrocer , @renkocchi , @whumpasaurus101 , @inky-whump , @lonesome--hunter , @ladygwennn , @simplygrimly , @withering-whump , @lave-e, @whatwhumpcomments , @thatsthewhump , @just-another-whumper , @starnight-whump , @unicornscotty

#plot stuff #my writing #my oc’s #wren #zander #Alexei #leon #mute whumpee #past pet whump #dehumanization #Oooooo important plot things happening #I swear we’ll return to whump eventually

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musclesandhammering · 3 years

Text

I realise that I’m speaking to a very small, hyper-specific group of mutuals here, but I can’t stop thinking about this.

Amara/Chuck Parallels with Loki/Thor

The dark, misunderstood sibling that’s always been cast as the villain by essentially everyone, when- despite their cold, ruthless exterior- all they ever really wanted to do was exist as an equal to the other, and as the conflict escalated, they ended up alone, afraid, suffering, and locked away, all while the golden child prospers. And then there’s the golden child- everyone’s favourite- who (outwardly) seems to be the most benevolent and righteous of the two, but internally has a massive sense of entitlement, moral superiority, and a major violent streak. The golden child still loves their dark sibling, but not enough to acknowledge how they were wronged or allow them a sense of equality at the risk of lessening the golden child’s own standing.

Here’s some great Amara quotes (surprisingly profound considering they came from S*pernatural) that resonate with Loki, just- so much.

1.) “That’s your story, not mine.

Most of these quotes work best if you look at them from the perspective Loki would’ve had in the first Avengers film. This one, however, can be applied to just about anytime in their thousand-year relationship. Thor, if asked, would most definitely describe life in Asgard as wonderful and his relationship with Loki as perfectly good. Although Loki himself could be a bit unusual and troublesome at times, Thor would say things were mostly peachy. Whereas, if you asked Loki, he would have a completely different opinion. He’s been ostracised and villainised and tormented and made to feel inferior pretty much his whole life, and his brother is a huge part of that. He’s constantly compared to Thor and found lacking, and the fact that- even when Loki finally snapped and went off the deep end- Thor still doesn’t seem to understand that… well that certainly just throws gasoline on Loki’s Anger Fire.

2.) “The real reason… why I couldn’t be allowed to exist? You couldn’t stand it. We were equals.”

This is mostly looking back on the earlier parts of Thor 1. Thor seemed to genuinely love Loki, but almost in a way someone would love an extension of themselves (a weapon or a car or a pet or something). He likes Loki’s company, but only if Loki goes along with what Thor wants to do. He wants Loki’s advice, but only when he asks for it. He values Loki’s magic, but only to the extent of its usefulness. He loves Loki, but he loves the way Loki assists and elevates him even more. Odin isn’t as obvious with it, but there are hints that he is more interested in how Loki can improve Thor than how Loki can improve himself. He was never going to make Loki king of Asgard, but he had every intention of Loki being there for Thor once he was crowned. The people of Asgard- at least the royal family- never cared to validate or support Loki’s individual identity (especially considering it deviated so far from the asgardian norm), because he wasn’t meant to be an individual. He was meant to be an extension of his brother. And, in the end, he violently refused to do that, and that’s part of the reason he was so strongly condemned for actions that Thor and Odin were guilty of themselves.

3.) “I’d die a million times and murder you a million more before going back there!”

I know this is super controversial, but I don’t think Loki was 100% mind controlled like Selvig and Barton. I also don’t think he was 100% a terrible evil villain who planned everything extensively and gladly did Thanos’s bidding. I think, during the movie, his mind was just all over the place (“a bag full of cats” indeed). At times, he probably just wanted it to be over so he could get away from Thanos and go home. At times, he probably felt good about being The Big Badass and have people be intimidated by him after so long being intimidated by others. At times, he’s probably genuinely appalled by all the carnage he’s causing. At times, with the sceptre fueling his rage, he was probably genuinely pissed at Thor and the rest of his family and wanted to cause trouble and make him suffer. I think, in part of his mind, he’s just so done with the position of inferiority he’s occupied his entire life that he’s almost willing to go back and be tortured by Thanos again, or go to prison, or suffer a humiliating defeat by The Avengers, or cause Thor all the pain in the world, as long as he doesn’t have to go back to living in Thor’s shadow.

4.) “Sorry? What’s sorry to me? I spent… years crammed into that cage, alone and afraid, wishing- begging- for death, because of you. And what was my crime, brother?”

This could be in reference to the years Loki spent in a metaphorical cage- the second prince, in Thor’s shadow, constantly trying to get Odin’s approval- or the literal cage he probably got thrown into at some point by Thanos and his minions. I like to think of it as Option B, just for the added whump. In Avengers, or TDW, or Ragnarok, Thor expressed at least a tiny bit of regret for how things went wrong between them- and despite the fact that he never actually said “I’m sorry”- I can see Loki encountering Thor’s attempts at reconnecting and feeling entirely empty about them. In his mind, Thor was the reason Odin neglected him, Thor was the reason his plans in Thor 1 failed, Thor was the reason he felt inferior in the first place. All he ever wanted was to be Thor’s equal, and striving for that led to his fall, which led to him being put through hell by Thanos and Co. And for what? Why was he forced fo compete with his brother for his parents’ love? Why was he made to feel lesser? Why was he even put on the throne in the first place? None of that was his fault. What was his crime, really, in the beginning? Being different? Not being Thor? I think it would take a lot more than a little regret on Thor’s part to fix all that.

5.) “Tell me. If you won’t change, why should I?”

This is my favourite one! Because it’s sooo accurate. Everyone- Thor in particular- is always trying to get Loki to be less deceptive, to stop betraying people all the time, to stop scheming and causing trouble, to stop going against his family and Asgard, but no one ever acknowledges that- even as far along as Ragnarok- Thor is just as entitled, arrogant and violent as he was at the beginning of the first movie. He literally tortures Loki with an obedience disk all while giving him a self-righteous speech filled with moral superiority and judgement. So, yeah. Again, from Loki’s perspective, if Thor has consistently clung to his immaturity and refused to grow into a better person, how the hell does he have any right to tell Loki to change and be better?

6.) “It didn’t have to be like this. I loved you, brother.”

Less infuriating and more heartbreaking than the others. When everything is said and done, Loki always loved Thor. Not just that, but his one true desire was to stand shoulder to shoulder with him and be comrades, equals, brothers… rather than a royal stepping stool. The tragic thing is that, while Loki has done a lot of wrong, if Thor had- at any point before Loki went crazy in Thor 1- genuinely acknowledged Loki’s pain and apologised to him, Loki 100% would’ve stood down. He would’ve been willing to works things out and do everything he could to repair their relationship- but because Thor never did that, because he treated Loki so terribly for so long, Loki ended up hitting his breaking point and becoming malevolent. He killed tons of people, caused all kinds of damage, and ripped the family even further apart. And it’s so sad because it’s obvious that Loki is just as miserable as everyone else, and this outcome was never what Loki wanted.

Anyway, I’m done meta-ing for now. I just find it fascinating how two of my favourite characters have such similar relationship with their brothers, and how things that Amara said could’ve very easily fit into Loki’s script. Which is, you know, heartbreaking. Cause pretty much all of Amara’s lines were heartbreaking. Sigh.

#loki meta #Amara meta #amara I love you #frosty bby #brodinsons #Chuck and amara #loki laufeyson #amara spn #supernatural #Thor #long meta is long #and quotey #but hey #the mood struck #topic: Loki + Amara #fandom crossover #I really really wish I could add a cut but I’m on mobile and idek how to add one anyway so lmao

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secretwhumplair · 4 years

Text

Touch-starved

873 words | Original work: The House Guest (sequel to Guest)

Content | Dehumanisation, implied: past pet whump

Notes | I realized Whumptober (as well as uni) starts tomorrow, so depending on how inspired and/or busy I am, this series may go on break. Enjoy your semi-cliffhanger re: Rose. On the plus side, I might write a bit of the actual whump the house guest went through >:)

Taglist | @oceanthesarcasamfox

For a while, David nearly forgot he had a life outside of the house guest, until he got a half-angry call from his best friend.

“Where have you been?” Rose demanded, half joking, but he could hear genuine concern underpinning her voice.

They chatted about this and that for a while, all while David tried to decide whether to tell her about the house guest. He probably should. Sooner or later, she would come to visit... but then, was it really his decision to make? He trusted Rose, but it wasn’t his freedom and safety on the line here.

He was sure she could tell there was something he was talking around - which he was glad about, it meant he wasn’t outright lying - but she didn’t press the matter.

They did, however, agree she would come visit the next weekend.

He found the house guest sitting by the porch door, looking out into the garden under the overcast sky. The hedge was starting to lose its leaves, David noted.

The house guest was petting Eclair, who was lying next to them, her tail swishing back and forth across the floor. Both of them looked over their shoulders when they heard him approaching.

He sat down on Eclair’s other side, reaching out to her as well. The house guest shifted a little, but barely moved away - it felt more like a formality at this point. If it made them feel more comfortable, David was more than happy with it.

“Hey, um. A friend of mine is coming over for the weekend.”

They startled worse than he had entirely expected. They sat bolt upright, staring at him with wide eyes and a pleading whimper.

“It’s alright,” he added quickly. “You don’t have to meet her if you don’t want to... I haven’t told her about you yet.”

They relaxed a little, but their eyes remained wide and worried.

“I trust her,” he continued quietly. “But if you’d rather... if you’d rather she didn’t know you’re here... that’s alright, we’ll figure it out. The house is big enough for that. But... I trust her. I think you’d like her. I’m sure she’d like you.”

They continued staring at him for a moment, then lowered their eyes, their fingers curving into the floor.

“You don’t have to decide immediately. There’s still a few days left. Just... think about it, yes?”

They squeaked quietly, but didn’t look up.

Instead, their eyes wandered to David’s hands in Eclair’s fur. David thought they were maybe worried about having them too close, and pulled back to make room for them instead.

When the evening came, he realized he had been wrong.

As was becoming their daily ritual, they all sat together in the living room, the house guest with Eclair off to the side and David on the couch. Tonight, David was reading, out loud as always, in case the house guest wanted to hear.

He looked up when he heard the soft sound of their bare feet and hands shuffling closer.

They stopped when caught in his sight, apparently indecisive.

“Do you need something?” he asked gently.

They paused, then whimpered their no, but slowly started coming closer. David couldn’t believe his eyes; he could feel a smile spread across his face without his doing. “Just want to sit with me? That’s great.”

They smiled back shyly, but their eyes were still wary. Eventually, they sat almost by his feet. Within arm’s reach. Of their own accord. David’s heart raced. He hoped he wouldn’t screw this up.

The house guest looked up at him; he wished he could read their face, but he had no idea beyond the fact that they were nervous, still.

“Anything I can do for you?” Of course they couldn’t answer, but he felt he had to say something-

They produced a small hum and rested their head against the couch next to his knees, glancing from his face to his hand resting on the couch. Then back.

Then David relaized what they were practically begging for. “You - want pets?”

They hesitated, then squeaked. Yes. Something sparkled in their eyes, but they blinked and looked away.

“Okay, okay, good.” He had halfway extended his hand to their head when he realized what he was doing, and froze. No, he couldn’t do that - pet the house guest like some sort of animal. Obviously they still thought of themself as such, but he couldn’t go reinforcing that idea that had obviously been forced onto them so brutally. “I - how about I rub your shoulders?”

They glanced up at him with that look they always got when he did anything to suggest they were nothing less than human. Now he was sure those were tears in their eyes, and he felt half-ready to cry with them.

But they squeaked softly, and awkwardly turned to present their shoulders to him.

Carefully, he wrapped his hands around them. They were still bony, still cool. The house guest tensed for a moment, but then took a deep breath and relaxed into his hands. He carefully started rubbing their shoulders, focused enough he didn’t realize until minutes later their tears had begun to fall, even as they leant into the touch.

#whump #whump writing #comfort #touch starved #pet whump #dehumanisation #my writing #the house guest #david

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fallintitan · 4 years

Text

@tenaciouswritingdragon asked for whump with BT talkin to jack to keep him awake and boy howdy i got carried away lmao

[ao3 link]

Cooper is stricken for a moment, looking down dumbly at where the knife protrudes from his gut. The image registers in his brain, but the pain that he knows and expects to feel is surprisingly absent.

“Pilot Cooper?” BT’s voice rumbles over the comm link. “Your vitals jumped for a moment. Are you alright?”

It takes a second for the man to regain his wits enough to respond. “Uh,” he elegantly starts, his words faltering as his Pilot suit grows wetter and wetter. How does he answer this in a way that won’t worry his Titan?

“Tell the truth,” BT cuts in. “I already sense that something is wrong. Please, be honest.”

His head swims, his vision skewing as he stumbles against a wall. “It’s not good, I don’t think.”

BT is worryingly silent for a pause before he continues to speak. “Affirmative. Carefully extricate yourself from the building. I will provide a distraction to allow you safe passage.” Moments after, Cooper hears the sound of a volley of Acolyte rockets tear into the sturdy walls of the facility, a cacophony of yelling rising up in response. “Be safe. Please.”

He almost numbly spits out ‘no promises’ in a half-hearted quip before catching himself. There’s no need to stress BT out more than he already is. Though, to be fair, BT can probably already tell what has gone wrong, even if Cooper is reluctant to tell him outright. Sometimes he forgets the Link is as powerful as it is.

He clamps one hand over the wound, knowing that staunching the bleeding is the best --and only-- thing he can do right now. His free hand fumbles for his pistol, awkwardly unholstering it from his opposite hip. His accuracy is likely garbage right now, but if someone’s in close enough proximity to use the pistol, then they’re close enough for a shot from the hip.

BT’s rampage continues outside, gradually thinning the IMC forces that haul over to confront him. Bullets ping harmlessly off of the metal of his body and he continues his murderous spree.

It’s shocking, in a way: BT is typically calm and reserved. Jack knows the Titan is capable of destruction and death on a massive scale, but being in an altered state of vulnerability brings it to the forefront of his mind. He leans heavily against an unoccupied door frame as he waits for the coast to clear enough for him to get to the Vanguard.

BT looks over, noting his position and his deteriorating state, sweeping one giant arm through a gaggle of grunts and sending them haphazardly flying. He trots over to the Pilot, footfalls rumbling the earth beneath Cooper’s feet. Kneeling down to Cooper’s level, BT’s cyan optic locks on to his beloved Pilot as he assesses the situation.

“Pilot,” BT frets, “you have suffered a puncture wound to the abdomen.”

“Yeah,” he croaks as the pain finally bleeds into his mind. His stomach is wet and sticky under his armor, far more uncomfortable than anything else he’s ever felt.

“Immediate action should be taken,” BT continues. “Risk of internal bleeding and puncture to abdominal organs are priority.” He stoops to lay his hand down for his Pilot to step onto. “Come. I will get you to shelter to address the wound.”

In a daze, Cooper stumbles up into the provided palm, leaning heavily on BT’s fingers to keep himself upright. The tackiness spreads, leaving him dizzy and nauseous.

“Hold tight.” At the last second, the Titan snags an idle Specter from the battlefield, grasping it in one large palm as it wriggles uselessly. BT sets off at a brisk jog, away from the IMC base, now filled with chaos. Hopefully, none of them would think to follow the Titan.

The thick forests of the planet provide excellent cover for the two of them as they dart away. BT twists and turns to avoid any more damage than necessary. Fauna and wildlife skitter out of the charging Titan’s path, scurrying away into the overgrowth.

Even through the vigorous jostling he undergoes as BT moves, he still feels himself slipping closer and closer to losing consciousness. Dumbly, a blood-soaked hand reaches for the hilt of the knife still protruding from his middle.

Delicately, one of BT’s fingers intercepts. “It is unwise to remove the protrusion until medical action can be taken,” he informs. “Removing it would only speed up blood loss.”

His skin feels clammy by now, nausea and dizziness dominating his mind. He can tell BT is doing his best to bleed off some of the feeling. Soon enough, BT finds suitable cover, hunkering down and laying Jack on the ground as gently as he could. Jack groans as he’s moved, the aching pain radiating out from where the knife sits. The Specter stays in BT’s grip.

“Pilot,” BT offers, “I know you are in immense pain, but I require your assistance.” He sounds almost guilty as he finishes the sentence. Blearily, Cooper focuses on his Titan, doing his best to pay attention. “I have secured a Specter for my use. It will allow finer motor skills. However, it must be hacked, and my core must be installed. Do you think you can assist me in doing that?”

Jack wheezes, delicately shifting onto his side to unsheath his dataknife and hold it out. BT takes it from his grasp, setting the Specter down and getting to work. The knife slips into its circuitry smoothly, the body going limp in BT’s hand.

BT’s hand rises to his optic. “Ejecting data core. Cooper, you will have to install it,” BT seems to apologize. Are you able to do that?“ The core hisses as it disengages, falling into his waiting palm. It slowly slumps to the ground, though the Titan chassis remains in sentry mode.

Cooper struggles to sit up. Each movement causes lances of pain to bolt through his body, but he knows he needs to help BT to get medical attention. Taking the core from the now-idle palm, he scoots over to the Specter frame to insert it in place of the frame’s original core. It slides in easily, hissing and settling in with a ‘pop!’

Immediately, BT’s trademark cyan shows through the frame’s optic, looking over to where Cooper returns to slumping on the ground.

“Pilot,” BT’s voice rumbles out of the Specter, “you are going into shock. Proceeding with immediate medical care.” The Specter--BT, this is BT, just a different body--reaches into the hatch on the Vanguard chassis and retrieves a medkit, hopping down and kneeling next to Cooper. As he rummages around, Cooper feels himself drifting off once more.

A gentle shake to his shoulder rouses him.

“Cooper, you must stay awake,” BT begs.

His eyes crack open tiredly, attempting to focus on his friend as he works.

“I will continue to speak to you to keep you aware, if you would like,” BT continues. “Would that help?”

Blearily, Jack nods slowly.

“Alright.” He feels BT’s hand move to his stomach near the wound. “I have already activated the emergency beacon,” he rambles. “Evac should be here shortly. That is good news. The quicker you can get help, the higher the odds you will recover with no adverse effects.”

The hand gently moves the knife as BT spreads biofoam around the puncture, making the now-familiar ache spread once more. He groans, one hand mindlessly going to swat BT away.

“Now is not the time to get defiant,” BT scolds. “I am doing what needs to be done. Plus, I overpower you by a great margin.”

A feeble huff escapes the pilot in lieu of a laugh. Distantly, he feels BT prop his legs up with something. He feels himself drifting off again, looking to BT desperately as he fights it off.

BT fumbles for a topic. “Think of Moot,” he offers. “She will likely be waiting for us when we return.”

A smile splits his face at the thought of the canine. Her loyalty and antics have picked him up on his darkest days, even days where BT couldn’t rouse him from his dwelling.

“Stay awake for her,” BT says. “Stay awake for me.”

He fights through it. Darkness pulls at the corners of his mind, and he is tempted to give in. However, BT’s voice does what he intends: it keeps him aware and awake, focused on his words.

“Think about how it will be when we get back,” he rumbles, retrieving an anesthetic from the medkit. BT removes the cap nimbly, apologetically feeling for a vein and injecting it. Immediately, Cooper feels better. The ache dissipates, his mind stops swimming, though his breathing remains shallow and rapid.

“Can you imagine how worried she will be when we get back?” BT starts. “She has not seen you seriously injured before. Knowing her, she will fret, akin to how she does when you are away. Perhaps the doctors will allow her into your recovery room to keep you company.”

That thought warms him. In his time in the Militia, he’d been wounded many times. Every time, it got uncomfortably lonely, with only BT’s presence through the Neural Link. The idea that Moot may be allowed in the room with him eases his nerves.

“I will admit, I was adverse to bringing her home on that mission, but I have since greatly changed my mind. I adore her, as you do. Her loyalty is inspiring. Even without speaking, she manages to say so much. Remember how she gets so excited, wagging her tail, that she occasionally hits herself in the head?”

The grin widens. His mind shifts from the pain radiating through his body to images of Moot and BT. Moot, bracing herself in BT’s large palm as he lifts her to see if she could handle heights. BT practicing delicacy as he gently pets her furry head with one finger.

In the distance, he can hear the dropship approaching. BT informs him of so, voice rumbling soothingly as he speaks. “Our way out is approaching. You will be out of here soon. Would you be able to assist my transfer back to the chassis?”

BT helps him sit up gingerly. The ship descends to hover above the ground, the pilot expertly guiding it. The transference back goes smoothly, BT rising to wave the aid over.

“Cripes, Coop,” one of the medical assistants grimaces. “Can’t go one week without you gettin’ into trouble.”

Cooper wheezes a laugh as he’s hauled up and carried over to the ship. He hears BT’s thumping footsteps following them reliably. Inside the ship, he’s laid out on a stretcher, where his armor is further stripped off and the fabric of the flight suit on his lower torso is peeled away.

The weight of the situation suddenly registers to him: he had been dangerously close to…

Frantically, he looks around for BT. The Titan seems to materialize over the assistants’ shoulders, optic narrowing in his version of a comforting smile.

“We’re administering a sedative now,” one of them informs. “It’ll knock you out for a while.”

Cooper frowns, croaking out “Moot” feebly.

“She’ll be there when you wake up, promise.”

#jack cooper #bt 7274 #titanfall 2 #mav makes

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inevitably-johnlocked · 4 years

Note

i think you’ve realised some lists, but could you link your friends to lovers lists? 💞 thank u so much !

ABSOLUTELY NONNY!

God It’s euphoric being in a great mood!! It’s felt like 80 years since I’ve felt this happy. It’s gonna go away the second it rains again, but ANYWAY.

YOU KNOW WHAT? I’m feeling generous so I’ll post this today and I’ve had the list “ready to post” for a few months. Here’s a part 2 list to my other list since I’ve enough to do it :D

FRIENDS-TO-LOVERS Pt. 2

See also:

T-RATED Pt. 1: Friends To Lovers Fics || [MOBILE LINK]

Enemies to Friends to Lovers

Friends to Lovers Pt. 1 [FULL POST] || [MOBILE POST]

Closeted by Sexxica (E, 2,762 w., 1 Ch. || Trapped in a Closet, Panicking Sherlock, Hand Jobs, Coming in Pants, Awkward Conversations, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Fluffy Ending) – An improvised hiding spot and a bit of accidental voyeurism leave John and Sherlock in an awkward position.

Better Late Than Never by sussexbound (NR (T), 3,021 w., 1 Ch. || Post-S4 / TFP Doesn’t Exist, Sherlock POV, Love Confessions, Drunk Sherlock / Sober John, John Takes Care of Sherlock, First Kiss, Jealous Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil) – He suddenly wants John Watson out of his bedroom, out of his flat, out of his life, because he has been lying to himself these last few months, he realises. He doesn’t want John here, not with the way things are. He doesn’t want 221b Baker Street to be nothing more than rest stop John returns to on his journeys between women. He doesn’t want to play co-parent if Rosie is going to be snatched away from him and placed in the arms of whatever nameless woman du jour John lands on next. He doesn’t want to keep being so careful, so generous, so, so…

The General Idea by agirlsname (T, 3,022 w., 1 Ch. || Retirement, Promise of Forever / Proposal, POV John, First Kiss, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Soft Sherlock, Idiots in Love, Crying / Emotional Sherlock, Love Confessions) – After twenty years of friendship, John is used to Sherlock acting weirdly. But the news Sherlock finally brings himself to deliver change the carefully built dynamics between them, and John realises it's time to act.

Nothing So Sweet by alexxphoenix42 (E, 5,275 w., 1 Ch. || Shopkeeper AU || Beekeeping, Sussex, Alternate First Meeting, Awkward First Time Sex, Self-Consciousness / Body Insecurity, Fluff, Hand Jobs) – In an alternate universe, Sherlock is busy keeping to himself, tending his bees, and selling lovely jars of honey when a soldier limps into his life quite unexpectedly. Part 1 of The Sweetest Things

Caffeine and Adaptive Programming by DemonicSymphony (E, 5,540 w., 1 Ch. || Androids AU / Bond Fusion || Android Sherlock, Coffee Shop AU, Pining John Hinted Bond / Q, Toplock) – Sherlock is a coffee shop android slowly falling for a regular customer. But he's not supposed to be able to feel emotions.

My First, My Only, and My Forever by vintagelilacs (E, 6,220 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiB, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock’s Bum, John’s Scar, Sherlock POV, Body Worship, Fingering, Bottomlock, Promise of Forever / Proposals, Misunderstanding, First Kiss/Time, Loss of Virginity, Virginity Kink, Seduction) – Sherlock narrowed his eyes. He was missing a vital piece of data, he was sure. John had been looking at him oddly ever since they left Buckingham Palace, and the ensuing incident with Irene Adler had only exacerbated his erratic behaviour. What was it? Why would he care that Sherlock was a virgin? There was nothing reminiscent of mockery or pity in his gaze. And then it hit him. John Watson was aroused.

An Interpretation of Viewing Habits by akitsuko (E, 6,653 w., 1 Ch. || Porn Watching, Masturbation, Anal, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Declarations of Love, Jealous Sherlock, Fantasizing, John in Denial / Internalized Homophobia, Bottomlock, Pining Idiots, Sherlock Has No Boundaries, Cockblocking Sherlock) – John watches porn. It's a perfectly normal thing to do.If every video he watches happens to feature actors with remarkable physical similarities to his flatmate, well, that's no one's business but his own. Or: John is in denial, until his infatuation with Sherlock is impossible to deny anymore.

Sometimes When We Touch by kedgeree (M, 7,755 w., 6 Ch. || Post-TRF, First Kiss/Time, Inappropriate Giggling, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Virgin Sherlock, John Whump, Touching) – John might be touching Sherlock a little more often than is strictly necessary. Sherlock probably hasn't even noticed. Right...?

Just Like That by sussexbound (E, 8,442 w., 1 Ch. || First Time/Kiss, Frottage, Virgin Sherlock, French Kissing, Anal, Emotional Lovemaking, Enthusiastic Consent, Tenderness, Crying John, Bathing/Washing, Insecure John, Toplock) – John doesn’t want to talk anymore. He wants. Oh dear god, how he wants. For the first time in what feels like years he WANTS.

The Haunting of 221B Baker Street by earlgreytea68 (M, 10,388 w., 2 Ch. || Post TRF, Halloween / Ghosts, Pining Sherlock, Ghost Sherlock, Stroppy Sherlock, Sherlock POV, First Kiss/Time, Angry Sex, Ghost Sex, Love Confessions, Open / Ambiguous Ending) – In which Sherlock Holmes is a ghost.

London Gods by a_different_equation (E, 11,092 w., 5 Ch. || American Gods Fusion || Magical Realism, Sex Magic, True Love, PTSD John, First Kiss/Time, Marathon Sex, Sensuality, Genie Sherlock, Human John, Internalized Homophobia, Star-Crossed Lovers, Soul Mates) – Sherlock Holmes is a jinn who does not grant wishes. However, when Dr. John H. Watson, recently returned from the war in Afghanistan, gets into his cab by "accident", it might not even need magic to grant both men their deepest wish: love.

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

The Burning of the Leaves by blueink3 (M, 15,915 w., 3 Ch. || Post S4, Angst, Reichenbach, Parentlock, Past Jolto, Idiot John, Sherlock’s a Mess, Puppies, Fluff, Possessive / Jealous Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Sherlock POV, Matchmaker Sholto, Melancholic Feelings, Emotional Sherlock, Domesticity, Love Confessions in the Rain, Kissing in the Rain, Pet Names, Panic Attack) – After the events of series 4, Major Sholto invites John and Sherlock to lunch one day. It nearly proves to be too much for their tenuous relationship as the past haunts the present, putting the future that Sherlock so desperately wants at risk.

A Silver Sixpence by _doodle (NC-17, 16,400 w., 2 Ch. || LJ Fic || For a Case / Case Fic, Fake Relationship, Humour, Romance, Marriage Proposal, Awkward Idiots, Cuddling, Touching, Kissing, Love Confessions, Bed Sharing, Friends to Lovers, Fake Until It’s Not, Schmoop and Fluff, Bottomlock) – “John, we need to get married. It’s for a case, not any romantic notions on my part pertaining to our partnership,” Sherlock said, with brutal honesty, and without even looking up.

The Palmyra Atoll by elwinglyre (E, 16,609 w., 3 Ch. || TSo3 Divergence / Episode Fix-It, Stockholm Syndrome, Kidnapped John Watson, John Whump, Evil Mary, Angst, Cuddling & Snuggling, Toplock, Limited 3rd John POV) – As John's preparing for the wedding, Sherlock is preparing to have his heart broken, and Mary is prepared to do the unthinkable. Intervention required. Enter Sherlock. Set before Sign of Three with a far different outcome. John is drugged, kidnapped, and left on an island, but not just any old island.

Out of the Woods by SilentAuror (E, 20,471 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Romance, Slow Burn, Flirting, Drunk Sex, Practical Jokes, POV Sherlock, Bottomlock, Possessive John, Pining Sherlock, Frustrated Wanking, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Blow Jobs, First Kiss/Time, Virgin Sherlock, Love Confessions, Soft Sherlock, Dancing, Bum Appreciation, Hanging out with the Yard) – Sherlock is fairly certain that John has taken to flirting with him of late, but can't be entirely certain of it. At least, not until a case takes them into a forest, along with Lestrade's team and something happens that will change everything about their lives...

The Kepler Problem by kinklock (E, 24,270 w., 1 Ch. || Sci-Fi AU, Alien Sherlock, Space Repairman John, Alien Biology, Horny John) – Working in uncharted space exploration was not as exciting as John had hoped, especially when it turned out to be mostly bot maintenance on uninhabited planets. However, the mystery of the repeated, unexplained malfunctions on planet BAK 2212 might turn out to be exactly the kind of adventure he'd been craving.

Silhouettes by allonsys_girl (E, 28,585 w., 7 Ch. || Canon Compliant, POV John, Heavy Drinking, Sad/Depressed John, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reunion, Foot Jobs, Blow Jobs, Infidelity, Cheating, Drug Use/Abuse, Anal, Switchlock, Rimming, Parentlock) – Sherlock and John find comfort in each other's arms, but as ever with these two, it's not your typical relationship. It's fluffy at the beginning, gets deeply angsty in the middle, gets porny at the end.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

The Whore of Babylon Was a Perfectly Nice Girl by out_there (E, 32,897 w., 1 Ch. || Past Drug Use, Blowjobs, Toplock, Mentions of Switching, Rough Sex, Background Cases, Sherlock’s Past, Sherlock’s Sexual History, Experienced Sherlock, Past One Night Stands, Fingering, Cuddling, Possessive Sherlock, Paris Holiday, Bed Sharing, Naked Lie-Ins, Bathing Together, Confessions, Worried Sherlock, Laying in Bed All Day, Meddling Mycroft, Naked Lazy Day) – Sherlock walks into a room and takes all the space right out of it. He does the same inside John's head.

carrying up his morning tea by darcylindbergh (E, 34,504 w., 5 Ch. || Post S3, Minor Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Wakes/Funerals, Estranged John, Pining Sherlock, Depression/Insecurity, Slow Burn, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain/Injury, Reconciliation, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Scars, Angst With Happy Ending) – His fingers tremble as he dials and he can’t force them steady. Familiar number, even though he hasn’t used it in two years. He isn’t even sure he should be calling it now, but she’d asked. She’d made him promise.

Guidelines by WithLoweredVoices (M, 43,018 w., 15 Ch. || Winglock || Angels, Fantasy, Angst, BAMF! John, War, Jealous Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, Jealous John, Falling in Various Ways, Needy Sherlock, Wings) – The Good Soldier, one of the oldest and strongest of the fallen, is offered a bargain: to live as John Watson and to Guide a fledgling archangel so that he will stay on the path of good. Of course, Sherlock Holmes has different ideas about his destiny. Fantasy AU. Warnings for violence, occasional gore, and a whole load of hurt and angst.

The Real Great Perfumers by shelleysprometheus (E, 45,355 w., 68 Ch. || Case Fic, Alternating POV, Gay Sherlock / Bi John, Canon Compliant with Divergence at TRF, Friends to Lovers, Oral / Anal, Pining, First Kiss / Time, Dev. Rel., Drugging, Body Worship, Bathing, Love Confessions, Travelling, Bottomlock, Cranky Sherlock, BJ’s, Alternating POV, Jealous John) – The case, this case. This extraordinary, fascinating, scintillating case. A house. Designed entirely by its eccentric owner, built by no less than five hundred expert tradesmen in the heart of Marrakesh. A house that had, seemingly not only driven its owner out, but also to his quite unpleasant death. And a perfumer, a chemist no less, the very thought of the secrets that house could reveal, would reveal was irresistible. Sherlock had to have this case ... and it seems, he also had to have John! Part 1 of the Forethought and Fire series

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

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

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

One Little Change by jadztone (E, 58,312 w. || ASiB Divergence, Fake Relationship, Bed Sharing, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, First Kiss / Time, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bi John / Gay Demisexual Sherlock, Switchlock, Alternating POV, Jealousy, Misunderstandings, Case Fic, Angst with Happy Ending, Emotional Love Making, Butt Plugs, Cuddles) – Our story begins right after John and Sherlock's first meeting with Irene Adler in September. It splits off into an AU that imagines them taking a case where they act as bait to hook a killer targeting closeted gays in secret relationships. In the weeks leading up to Christmas, many things happen that have our boys wondering if maybe they have a chance with each other. Then Irene fakes her death on Christmas Eve, and things get a lot more complicated - especially since they still have a killer to catch.

Hell Sent, Heaven Bound by ConsultingHound (M, 64,381 w, 16 Ch. || Angels / Demons AU || Fallen Angel Sherlock / Angel Cop John, Alternate First Meeting, Slow Burn, Case Fic, John & Lestrade are Friends Before Sherlock, BAMF John, Mind Palace John, Friends to Lovers, John in Denial, Sherlock Picks Out John’s Clothing, Clubbing / Dancing, Mildly Jealous John, Awkwardness, Kidnapping, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Sacrifice, Worried / Anxious Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Immortal to Mortal) – Ex-War healer and current angelic guard John Watson is not having the best day. He overslept, he’s underpaid, and now there’s someone tagging the Council’s building walls. However things may be about to get interesting: there’s an unusual stranger hanging around (the definition of tall, dark, and handsome), a literal underground cult is brewing, and rumblings are coming from hell. Can he keep his neighbourhood safe, how and why is he being connected to all this, and who the hell is Sherlock Holmes?

White Knight by DiscordantWords (M, 69,840 w., 13 Ch. || S4 Compliant/Post S4, Marriage For a Case, Jealous John, Pining John, Janine / Sherlock Fake Relationship, Serial Killers, Case Fic, Undercover as a Couple, Weddings, John is a Mess, Misunderstandings, Wedding Planning, Jealousy, Drunkenness, Love Confessions, Angst with Happy Ending) – Green. The word green was used to convey a great many things. Illness. Envy. Inexperience. Standing there amidst Janine's chattering bridesmaids, watching Sherlock furrow his brow and study fabric swatches, watching him smile and simper and flirt, John thought it a remarkably apt colour choice. Because he felt quite sick to his stomach, he feared the source of said sickness might very well be jealousy, and he had absolutely no idea at all what to do about it. Or: Sherlock needs to fake a relationship for a case. He doesn't ask John.

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

The Vapor Variant by 88thParallel (CanadaHolm) (M, 72,684 w., 18 Ch. || Post-THoB, John Whump, Protective Sherlock, Guilty Sherlock, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, PTSD John, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Suspense, Virus, Sickfic, Big Brother Mycroft) – They stood face to face in the middle of a clearing. The dim light of the moon barely allowed Sherlock to see the glassy terror in John’s eyes and the sweat that glistened off his forehead. His nose was bleeding again, blood dripping in a slow stream from his right nostril. They were both gasping for air, John’s eyes locked on Sherlock’s. There was no recognition there, just wild animal fear. Time stood still for an eternal few seconds, and Sherlock took a shaky breath. “John—”Spell broken, John spun and bolted back into the woods. Still heaving for air, Sherlock took off after him.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Flashbacks, Sussex, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Background Case Fic) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Given In Evidence by verityburns (M, 97,884 w., 19 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Angst, Drama, Case Fic, Romance, BAMF!John, Submissive Sherlock, First Kiss, Humour) – Coming back from the dead can be a complicated business. With a new case on the horizon, rebuilding a life is one thing... rebuilding a friendship quite another. For Sherlock and John, things may never be just the same...

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w., 11 Ch. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w., 37 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel., Possessive/Obsessive Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock, Mutual Pining, Body Appreciation, Depression, Closeted Sexuality, Family, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Ogling Each Other, Anxious Sherlock, Panic Attack, Drunkenness, Talk of Forever, Big Feelings™) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it's a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w., 24 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Hollywood / Actor AU, Secret Relationship, Falling in Love, Slow Burn, Romance, Coming Out, Fluff and Angst, Pining) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || 70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That's all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #friends to lovers #my fic recs #fic rec sunday #Anonymous

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faewhump · 4 years

Text

Unseelie Pet: 23. Chapter

Alex is confronted with an old acquaintance again, and Malachi greatly enjoys showing his pet off in a more intimate way.

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Content warnings: dehumanisation, captor bonding, abuse, humiliation, forced nudity, referenced dubcon

Tagging: @galaxywhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whumpsideblog @slaintetowhump @thewhiteraven73 @ohmywhump @u-n-o-f-f-i-c-i-a-l @frnkieroismydaddy @insanitywishes @swordkallya @deluxewhump @ariirenn @a-terrible-pun

With the end of summer the frequency and duration of the heavy rainfalls increased, which meant that the walks outside became rarer and rarer. Of course there had been beautiful strolls through the autumnal forest, and Alex had even gotten proper shoes and been wrapped in a warm coat during those occasions, but he still missed being able to go out almost daily. Instead he spent hours looking out of the window, watching the leaves of the vines that overgrew the palace wall turn red and fall, as well as the birds, squirrels and other animals that visited the courtyard.

Today he was sitting on the windowsill, making out figures in the clouds above and breathing in the crisp air. It wasn’t raining at the moment, so there was hope that Malachi would take him out later if the weather held up. In a way it felt as if his life had always consisted of the duality between waiting for Malachi to visit him and the time he got to spend with the Fae, which could be lovely, humiliating, comforting, or painful, depending on the day. Remembering that he’d only been at the Court for half a year felt jarring.

Suddenly a movement down in the courtyard attracted his attention. A lesser faerie had stepped out from the cloister across, and Alex’s heart dropped when she looked up at him. Darerca smiled. For a moment Alex was frozen in place, his mind reeled thinking of how their last encounter had played out, how she had almost succeeded in killing him… and now she knew where he was.

Frightened he jumped off the sill and slammed the window shut, slowly stepping away from it. Darerca had seen him, she was just outside in the courtyard, she now knew where his room was and could find it, his room where he was all alone and unprotected, she was probably on her way right now… Panicking he paced up and down, trying to come up with a plan. There wasn’t anything in this room that he could use as a weapon, and even if there was, it would be pointless. She was much stronger and faster than him, he had no chance, she was going to kill him.

He couldn’t fight her, and he couldn’t leave the room to run either. The only option left was to hide. Within the split of a second he made a decision and dived under the bed, crawling as far away from the door as possible. Curling himself into a ball against the wall he closed his eyes and didn’t even attempt to stop his body from shaking.

It didn’t take long before he heard the door open. There were steps on the carpet, a person walking around looking for him, and Alex pressed himself closer against the wall, trying his best to keep his breathing quiet. Eventually, the steps came to a halt next to the bed. Utterly terrified Alex pressed himself even closer to the wall and turned his head away. There was a sigh, followed by the rustle of clothes as the person crouched down, and then…

“There you are, pet,” Malachi said. “What are you doing down there?”

Surprised Alex’s eyes flew open, and relief rushed through him when he realised that he wasn’t about to die. It wasn��t Darerca crouching next to the bed, it was Malachi. And instead of murderous rage there was confusion on his face, mixed with hints of annoyance and amusement.

“What are you hiding from, hmm?”

“Darerca,” Alex whispered.

“Darerca?” Malachi sounded confused.

Alex nodded. “I – I saw her through the window, out in the courtyard, and – and she saw me. So I – I was scared that, that she would come up and –“ He broke off, unable to hold back the sob forming in his throat.

Instantly Malachi’s face softened. “Oh dear, my poor little pet was so scared,” he cooed, then stretched his hand out towards Alex. “Come here, my sweet, come here to me.”

The fear still sitting deep in his bones Alex obeyed, slowly crawling out from under the bed, and was immediately pulled into Malachi’s arms.

“Poor silly thing; Darerca will never touch you again, I promise. You are mine now.” Malachi gently rubbed his back, and Alex thankfully clung to him. “You have nothing to be scared of, darling, I will always protect you. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, master,” Alex mumbled into his shoulder. “I – I just – I felt so alone and scared, and I didn’t know when you would come…”

“Shh,” Malachi soothed. “I’m afraid there is sadly no way I could always stay by your side; however I could station one of my most trusted guards to stand watch before your room at all times.”

“Really?” Alex looked up hopefully.

Malachi smiled. “Of course, sweetheart, anything to make you feel safe.”

“Thank you, master.” Overtaken by gratefulness and love Alex hugged Malachi tightly.

Chuckling Malachi pressed a kiss on the top of his head. “Don’t worry, my darling, I will make sure that no one will ever hurt you again.”

Alex nervously licked his lips. “Except you?”

“Oh no, sweet thing, I could never hurt you.”

“But…”

“Ah, you are referring to the punishments, aren’t you?” Malachi asked and Alex nodded shyly. “Those aren't comparable to hurting you, silly human, those are necessary discipline to help you be the perfect pet. You want that, don't you?”

Automatically Alex nodded.

“Sweet pet,” Malachi cooed and generously covered his head with small kisses. Being showered with praises and affection worked wonders in calming Alex down, and soon his previous fear felt like nothing but a bad dream. Nevertheless he timidly requested to stay inside when Malachi offered to take him out.

“Of course, darling,” Malachi agreed, finally letting go of Alex to stand up. “Come, sit with me.”

With how weak his legs still felt from the shock Alex couldn’t be bothered to stand up and instead merely crawled the few steps over to the couch, settling of the sitting pillow at Malachi’s feet.

Malachi smiled at him. “Good boy.” He patted his hair, and Alex happily leaned in before resting his head against his knee. With the flick of a wrist Malachi summoned a silver book that Alex quickly recognised as the collection of love poetry he’d gifted him months ago. Caressing Alex’s hair with one hand Malachi opened the book with the other and began to read aloud. The beautiful words flowed like honey off his smooth voice, and Alex couldn’t help but blush at the sweet compliments that seemed to be directed at him.

Way too soon Malachi had finished reading the poem. “Would you like to hear another?” he asked.

Alex nodded. “Yes, master, please.”

“As you wish, my love.” Malachi flipped the page. “Ah, you will remember this one, it is my favourite.”

Alex indeed remembered the time Malachi had read Goldfinch to him months ago, but the emotions he felt at hearing it now, and knowing that it probably described the way Malachi thought about him, couldn’t have been more different. Whereas before being compared to a revered songbird kept in a cage had filled him with disgust and an undercurrent of fear, he now felt nothing but flattered, cherished, and adored. As soon as Malachi finished reading Alex shyly asked to hear another and was indulged, until finally Malachi shut the book.

“It is time to get you ready for tonight’s ball,” he announced. “Though well, it isn’t really a ball but a more private feast in a smaller circle. It will be lovely nevertheless, and I already picked the perfect outfit for you.”

Alex obediently followed him into the bathroom and allowed himself to be washed and groomed as usual. This time Malachi seemed to pay special attention to rubbing his body with silky lotion until his skin was smooth and glowing everywhere. Next Alex was led back into the bedroom where he was presented with the selected clothes for the evening. Although ‘clothes’ wasn’t exactly the right word for it.

The… thing Malachi showed him consisted of nothing but delicate gold chains and crystals, which formed an artful mesh that covered the upper part of his chest but split out into a looser pattern of chains further down. Around his waist came a belt in the same style, the loosely interwoven chains barely covered him and trailed down to his shins. Lastly, there were matching bracelets around his wrists and ankles, as well as a pair of crystal teardrop earrings. Alex’s mind spun while Malachi applied his make-up, surely he wouldn’t make him go out like this?

“N-no,” Alex whined when Malachi clipped the leash into his collar and tugged him towards the door.

“Excuse me?” Malachi turned around. “Is there a problem, pet?”

“I – I can’t go out like this!” Alex spluttered.

Malachi tilted his head. “Why not? You look lovely.”

“Be-because I’m basically naked.” Alex looked at Malachi with big yes. “Please, master, please let me wear something else, please don’t make me go out like this, please-” He broke off abruptly when Malachi backhanded him across the face.

“Tsk, since when do you get to decide what you wear?” Malachi scoffed. “I had this outfit made especially for you, just look at how beautifully crafted it is and how valuable the materials are, and now you want to refuse it? Is that proper behaviour for a pet?”

“No, master,” Alex admitted, his face burning with shame and pain from the slap. “I’m sorry.”

Malachi gently brushed over his cheek. “You look so amazing in this, sweetheart. Absolutely stunning, no-one will be able to take their eyes off of you, everyone will be jealous that you are mine. There’s no need to be shy, you look like treasure, like a true piece of art.”

“O-okay,” Alex stuttered. He still didn’t feel comfortable at all, but obediently started walking when Malachi tugged at his leash again.

The chains moved and clinked around as he followed Malachi through the corridors, and the numerous crystals sparkled in the light. As Malachi had prophesised his outfit attracted a lot more attention than he usually got, and he couldn’t help but feel horribly self-conscious about the way the chains felt sliding over his body and the interested looks of the faeries around. The scariest, however, was when one of the High Fae bluntly asked Malachi what the price for a night with his pet was. Alex could have cried from relief when Malachi refused, stating that he didn’t like sharing what was his.

In a twisted way it was flattering to be seen as attractive and desirable by a superhumanly beautiful High Fae. And Malachi seemed to really enjoy the way he looked, while he mostly ignored him at balls he now kept on stealing glances over his shoulder. He even pulled Alex onto his lap when he sat down to discuss business with Lady Shona and absentmindedly played and fiddled with the gold chains. Gradually Alex relaxed, he enjoyed holding Malachi’s attention even though he was primarily focussed on something else. Of course he knew that he wasn’t the most important thing in the Fae’s life, but it still felt nice to know he wasn’t forgotten.

Later when they returned to his room Malachi showered him with compliments, praising his perfect behaviour and beauty. Because he apparently couldn’t get enough of the way Alex looked in the outfit, and since it wasn’t much in the way anyways, he didn’t bother with taking it off in bed. Alex didn’t complain about the metal digging uncomfortably into his skin when Malachi pushed him down, and soon the pleasure greatly overshadowed the pain he felt.

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mirasmirages · 4 years

Text

After Alistair Part 2: Aaron

Second part of the AU based on a role play with @whumpinparis. This time we’re getting Aaron’s point of view!

Content warning for pet whump and past trauma

Tag list for Sky: @legallylibra

Word count: 1030

Part one Part 3

Aaron turned on the radio and started cooking breakfast. Maya had already left for work, leaving him alone with the girl in the guest room, and he wasn't quite sure what to do about her. Cooking breakfast was easier than thinking about what was going on, and the girl probably needed the extra sleep anyway.

Sky, was her name. Aaron whisked together a few eggs and put slices of bread in the toaster, remembering the way the girl would only look at her feet, like a scared child. But she was not a child, at least he didn't think so. She could be in her late teens, or early twenties. He wondered what had happened to her, but she hadn't said anything, and Maya didn't know either. From what Maya had said, Sky lived with one of Maya’s employees and had gone missing about a week ago. Aaron didn't quite understand why Maya had taken her here instead of home, but she probably had her reasons, and he never asked in cases like this.

When the eggs were scrambled and the bread toasted, Aaron put it all on the dining table and went to wake Sky. He had expected her to be asleep, but when he knocked and opened the door, Sky was kneeling on the floor next to the duvet. The whole situation was unnerving - had she slept on the floor?

"Awake already?" he asked. Sky nodded, not otherwise moving. "Okay, well," Aaron said, trying his best to ignore how awkward this all was. "Do you want breakfast? I made scrambled eggs."

Sky nodded and stood, and when Aaron held the door open, she quietly walked out of the room and waited beside him.

"Right," Aaron mumbled, and led the way to the dining room. "Do you wanna sit here?" he asked when Sky just stood there. She nodded and climbed onto the chair, kneeling there too. It didn't seem like the kind of behaviour you'd learn from one week, however traumatic, but Aaron was no expert, so he decided to let it go. He filled Sky's plate before sitting at the other side of the table.

Breakfast was awkward, with Aaron trying to fill the silence and Sky not responding, just shuffling her food around with her fork. She did take a bite whenever Aaron told her to, but he felt weird, directing her actions like that. It was exhausting and uncomfortable, so after he was done eating he sat Sky in front of the TV, not arguing when she knelt on the floor instead of the couch. He put on a disney movie and went to clean up after breakfast.

He hadn't thought a disney movie could be a problem, but when Aaron came back to check on her, Sky's face was wet with tears as she stared blankly into the air, her breath shallow. He hurried to turn off the TV and then sat down beside her.

"Sky?" he asked, not sure if he should touch her. "Sky, can you look at me? Can you tell me what happened?"

Sky was shaking, and didn't respond at all. Hesitantly he put a hand on her shoulder, and she hunched in on herself, losing control of the shaking.

"Is it okay if I touch you?" he asked, even though he already was. Again she didn't respond. Aaron just hoped he was doing the right thing when he shuffled closer and put an arm around her shoulders.

For a terrifying five seconds he was convinced he'd messed up. Sky was completely tense, not even breathing, but then she turned, grabbed onto his shirt and sobbed against his chest. It wasn't what he had expected from her at all, and he felt entirely unequipped to handle whatever this was, but there were no one else there.

It felt like she was crying for hours, although it was probably closer to twenty minutes, ten, even, but even as she was getting quieter, Sky didn't let go of Aaron's shirt, and the minutes went on, and on.

"Maya told me you live with, uh, Andrew, is that his name?" he asked when the silence was getting too much.

Sky tensed a little, but nodded.

"She said you're going back soon? Are you looking forward to seeing him again?"

Again, that little pause before her nod. It didn't feel right.

"Is he... is he nice to you?" Aaron tried. He'd met Andrew before, he'd met everyone working at the café, but he didn't remember much about him.

Sky nodded again, pushing her face against his chest. Something was wrong. He was sure of it.

"Are you sure?"

New tears fell from her eyes, but she nodded. "Please," she whispered, the first word he'd heard her say, her voice so full of pain he could hardly stand it. Maybe the questions had been a bad idea, but it was too late now. He had to know.

"What- what does he do to you?" he asked, but this time he got no response. "Uhm, does he, does he hit you?"

Sky hesitated again before she nodded.

"Oh," was all he could say for a few seconds. Fuck. He had to tell Maya, she wouldn't send Sky back if she knew about this - right? He kept his arm around Sky, lending whatever comfort he could, while he thought about what else to say, then he asked another question. And then another. Sky would nod and shake her head, but not respond to any complicated questions. Still, as Aaron started asking about things he never could've imagined happening, Sky kept replying, and Aaron felt more nauseous than he had in a long time. Does he let you go outside? Do you have a family? Does Maya know?

It was exhausting, asking question after question, each one answered by a nod or a shake of the head, and each reply breaking his heart just a little more. He had a headache again, but he couldn't just leave Sky here, so he kept his arm around her and leaned back against the couch, offering quiet comfort while thinking about the conversation he'd have to have when Maya got home.

#Mira writes #OC: Sky/Sarah #OC: Aaron Campbell #Part 2

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