#No. 30

[lostwhump]

@whumptober | Day #30: "What have I done?" Captain America: Civil War (2016)

[hywenhei]

RECOVERY: Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears | “What have I done?”

Painful recovery. Whumpees bathing for the first time since captivity, and every water droplet falling onto their burn wounds, pulling on their stitches, soaking through bandages. Whumpees having to sit and wait while pieces of glass are slowly extracted from within their skin, holding back tears when the cleansing alcohol gets into their cuts. Whumpees having to drink healing potions that are meant to help in the long run, but hurt like hell going down Whumpee's throat.

"Whumpee?" "hnn- wh're are we?" "You're safe now, Whumpee. Just rest."

Caretaker rushes into Whumpee's room the second they wake up. Just seeing Whumpee brings a whirlwind of fear and concern and anger to the forefront of Caretaker's mind, god, they're so angry that Whumpee made them worry like this and Whumpee could've died and Caretaker would be left in ruins and- Whumpee's heart rate has doubled and they've moved to the edge of the bed. Away from Caretaker.

"Whumpee, I got some- why are you on the floor? Again?" "Would you believe it if I said I was doing pilates?"

second last day of whumptober!!! i can't believe that it's nearly over - i still remember writing the first prompt list 😔 anyways see you tomorrow for, last but not least, day 31!!

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whumptober 2024 No. 30- Recovery | Hospital Bed | Holding Back Tears

This is another short one, but I hope you like it all the same!

Whumpee coughed themselves awake. They opened bleary eyes to fluorescent lights and a plain room. Something was strapped to their face. In addition, a quiet yet fast beeping came from somewhere nearby. Whumpee reached up to pull the thing- whatever it was- off of their mouth and nose. A gentle hand landed on theirs and moved it back to their side.

“Shh, Whumpee, baby, that has to stay on, okay?”

Whumpee turned their head.

“Caretaker?”

Their voice was muffled, and as they tried to speak, a few more harsh, wet coughs erupted from their chest.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Caretaker said, “don’t try to talk.”

Their eyes were red and puffy, they must have been crying. Why had they been crying? What was wrong?

“You’re in the hospital,” Caretaker went on, “you’ve been very sick, and I tried to take care of you from home, but you got worse, and I had to bring you here.”

Caretaker’s lower lip trembled, and Whumpee watched them swallow. They reached up a hand to their face. Caretaker leaned into the touch, letting out a shaky exhale.

“The doctors are giving you oxygen therapy, that’s what the mask on your face is for. It’s helping you breathe. You’ve- you’ve got an IV in your arm, and that’s giving you medicine. You’re gonna be okay- you-”

Caretaker bit back a sob. Whumpee wiped the tear that rolled down their cheek. They must have been in a really bad way for Caretaker to get so upset like this.

Whumpee opened their mouth to say something, but all that came out was another string of coughs. Their hand dropped back down to their side.

“Easy, easy,” Caretaker sniffled, “I told you, don’t try to talk.”

Whumpee weakly reached for Caretaker’s hand. Caretaker obliged and rubbed circles into Whumpee’s with their thumb.

…

Pneumonia, the doctors had said. A severe case. Caretaker was right to act when they did. Whumpee had almost died last night, it was a wonder they had woken up today at all. Caretaker hadn’t slept in twenty-three hours, but they didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was Whumpee and their recovery.

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[katyawriteswhump]

omega found, omega lost 5.1

Title: Omega found, Omega lost; Chapter: 5.1/6; WC: 2356; Rating: E; Tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, angst, hurt/comfort.

Chapter 1 on tumblr Chapter 2 on tumblr Chapter 3 on tumblr Chapter 4 on tumblr On AO3

For whumptober prompts day 23, I'm doing this for you; day 21, let the bedsheets soak up my tears, no. 25, it's for your own good; no. 29, fatigue, no. 30, hospital bed/holding back tear, no. 31 asking for help, and alt prompt, motion sickness.

Chapter 5.1: I'm doing this for you

A few hours earlier

“Don’t tell mom, okay?”

Steve’s dad pulsed his hand, and Steve was too weak to return it. His brain was fogged, and the weight of his bones pinned him to the mattress. After his father scuttled off, his news gradually seeped beneath Steve’s clammy skin and into his aching head.

It was all right.

For starters, he’d learned that Eddie hadn’t ditched him. He’d allowed Hopper to take Steve to ER, because he’d had no choice. Now his dad was going to find Eddie, which was pretty much the first time his dad had gone behind the back of his Alpha wife. As far as Steve knew, that is. Hopper was in on it, too.

Somewhere, deep beneath layers of grinding misery, hope kindled.

In less than an hour, he was sitting up in bed IV-drip free—chewing on a granola bar, then bouncing the wrapper off the ceiling. Dustin dropped by in visiting hour, apologising profusely for going off grid. Apparently, it was because Wheeler had kept on yelling hoax ‘code reds’ whenever he got fangs deep into a coding marathon with Suzie. And yeah, they made a half-joking pact to kick Wheelers’ butt, ASAP.

When Dustin left, Steve considered the epic task of getting out of bed. He wanted to call around to see if his dad had any news, or if any of their friends had heard from Eddie. Dustin had promised to get the whole gang on the case. Annoyingly, though, the pup’s visit had drained Steve, and his eyelids grew heavy as his bones.

He sensed his mom draw close a few minutes later. He had already hunkered down beneath the blankets and now he pretended to sleep.

He listened to her latest conversation with the doctors, hardly daring to breathe. Maybe she knew he was awake and didn’t care? It’s not like his opinion had ever been worth shit to her, even before he presented as Omega.

As they left, he swore he heard her softly growl: “Steven. I’m doing this for you.”

He remained motionless save breaths reduced to shallow quivers in the back of his dry throat. When her stinky perfume had retreated far enough, he sat up, leaning heavily on his palms, and tried to quell his trembling. Then he pushed the side bars down, swung his legs over and slid out of the bed.

The room swayed and swerved like he was on a ship, and his knees felt like water. He grabbed the bars to steady himself, while the pain in his heavily bandaged ankle gathered pace. Hot tears pressed in the back of his eyes, his throat. Shit, he wouldn’t cry now.

He fucking refused it.

He had to get better. He had to tough this out like… like a goddamn Omega. If he didn’t haul ass out of here today, his mother was going to send him back to that clinic. Oh yeah, she’d be all, “It’s for your own good, darling,” like last time.

He’d be treated as a piece of meat.

If her path crossed with Eddie, then Eddie would be dead meat.

Okay, his dad said he’d be back soon, but waiting was now unbearable. Besides, Eddie had smelled him from over a mile off. Steve was sure he’d pick up his Alpha’s scent trail, no sweat. He should be leading the search, not languishing here. On top of everything else, he was desperate to pee, and equally desperate to find a mirror and sort out his hair, so…

Okay, baby steps.

Or, rather, heavily limping steps. If he could make it to the washrooms and back, maybe there was hope of getting out of this dump.

He plucked a comb from his bedstand. Slowly, he made for the door, dragging his bad foot, then hopping unsteadily. The smallest pressure on his injury set his ankle screeching, as if his stitches had split. He struggled on, little keening noises escaping him. A nurse intercepted him at the door and offered his assistance—which Steve refused—and then a crutch.

Steve begrudgingly accepted that, and it helped. He made it to the washroom, cringed at himself in the mirror, then sorted himself out best he could.

On exiting, he allowed himself a small fist-pump. As he stared down the corridor, though, his shoulders collapsed, and his chin drooped. The few yards back to his room stretched out like miles. He took a moment, wedged between the crutch and the wall, his panted breaths so thick they drowned out the ceaseless buzz of the lights.

You can do this. Do it for Eddie. Do it for the Alpha you’ve been brushing off for months, who you couldn’t stop thinking about… and now who you literally can’t live without.

After all, according to his Dad, one of the doctors literally prescribed Eddie.

“Hello, Omega.”

Steve yelped. His crutch toppled sideways, even as a pair of arms slithered around him from behind.

“Oh yeah, you’re ripe and juicy!” drawled a familiar voice. “My pups will eat his pups outta you from the inside, and then…”

Snap!

Steve whirled around on reflex and nipped Tommy Hagen, who staggered back, rubbing the flesh between his shoulder and neck.

“I was kidding, okay? God, since when did you bite, dude…Hey, you look like shit.”

“Back at ya!” Also, rude! He’d managed to salvage his hair quite well, in the circumstances. Steve slithered down the wall toward his haunches. Tommy grabbed Steve’s elbow, then grabbed his crutch, slid it back under Steve’s arm and helped him stand. Tommy had paled beneath his freckles, and actually looked mildly guilty.  “What are you even doing here?” demanded Steve.

“Came to visit you. Retard move, clearly.”

“Yeah, right. I know what you came for. Gloat away then.” Tommy shrugged, still faintly cowed. Steve rode his tide of fury and went in for the kill: “Listen, Tommy. You are gonna go grab me some clothes from somewhere, and I’m gonna get discharged. Then we are gonna drive all night, if that’s what it takes, till I pick up Eddie’s scent.”

“Munson? Jesus, Harrington—you really are out of your pretty little head. Word is, he kidnapped you and filled you up with his trailer-park pups. It’s just so you to fall for a criminal.”

“Don’t be dumb. Eddie’s a hero—he saved my life.” Plus, this Beta had no idea about an Alpha-Omega bond, let alone a soulmate one. “Listen. I’m absolutely not pregnant, but my mom’s gonna drag me off to some specialist Omega clinic where they’ll lock me away and run tests, and…” Steve paused, fretting his lip ragged.

He didn’t have the time or the mental strength to handle the juggernaut of emotions barrelling through him. But he knew that threat wasn’t why he’d dragged himself from his bed, to Hell with the pain and the stupidity of it all.

It was Eddie. Eddie was in danger, and Steve needed to protect his Alpha. How screwball was that?

“Look, I can’t wait around while my dad messes this up. I need to find Eddie myself. Now.”

“You really do suck at being a good little Omega. Shouldn’t you be all—” Tommy flung the back of one hand to his brow “—woe is me! Let the bedsheet’s soak up my tears!”

“Screw you, Hagen. My secondary gender doesn’t define me, okay?”

“Says the pampered Omega pining for the dime-store Alpha who fucked his tiny peabrain out his ears.” Tommy looked smug again. So, default Tommy. Then his eyes slitted and he turned all sly: “What if I want to claim your mom’s reward for the freakshow’s head?”

“I’d rip your throat out myself.” Steve’s upper lip twitched, displaying his little canine teeth—a weary token gesture. His latest shot of adrenaline was basically spent.

Tommy ‘pfffd,’ though deep in those rolling eyes, something softened. Or maybe it was Steve’s wishful thinking.  His exhaustion getting the better of him, Steve’s knees sagged.  Tommy whacked out a hand to steady him, and Steve glared with everything he’d got left:

“Look, if you’ve ever actually been my friend, now is the time to make good on it.” Okay, he wasn’t sure that would wash. “I’ll pay you. Fuck, you can have my damn car.”

Jesus, did he mean that?

Whatever.

Steve would scratch Tommy’s eyes out later, once he’d gotten what he needed.

Half an hour later, Steve huddled in the passenger seat of Tommy’s car, ratcheting his stiff, cold limbs into a foetal position. His stomach lurched at the smallest bumps in the roadway, sending bile burning up his windpipe and into his throat. When Tommy breaked or sped up, the g-force drag through his guts set him whimpering.

He’d not felt this crappy on a journey since he was a kid.

On top of all that shit, Tommy’s endless whining drilled right into his aching head: “I’m running out of empty houses here. Christ, I don’t get how you know he’s in a basement. Let alone the point of pulling up outside and not even searching the joint.”

“If he was in there, I’d know it,” husked Steve, his throat wrecked by the acid. “Keep going.”

“Jesus, all right. I’ll try the old Hess farmhouse. But if you puke, I am dumping you out in the nearest ditch.”

Everything after that had been a fevered blur. By the time they reached the farmhouse, Steve was flopped on his back in the seat, arms and legs splayed, breathing so hard of Eddie’s scent he was pretty much hyperventilating.

Tommy wrinkled his nose at him. “Are you seriously leaking slick all over my car? Man, I know I’m getting yours but—”

“Your car can eat shit,” moaned Steve, his insides an unbearably empty ache. “You can eat shit! He isn’t here, Tommy. He isn’t here.”

“How do you know, shit for brains? I mean, this place is pretty much sending you into heat, and I’d bet on Carol’s Alpha dick that it’s got a creepy-ass basement. Just like you saw in your seriously fucked up wet dream.”

“He was here. I’m sure of it… but he’s gone. He’s gone.” Steve sobbed openly, too far gone to even care. “God, what if my mom…. What if she found him? Oh God, Tommy… it hurts. I can’t… I… it hurts so much. I can’t face the future… Any future without him.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Tommy slammed his palms up: “I didn’t sign up for this shit. I’m taking you back the hospital.”

A flash of wild grief ripped through Steve, igniting a fresh round of cramps in his guts. He eked tight words from his clenched teeth: “I swear to God, I’ll d-die on you before you reach the hospital, then m-my mom will hunt you down and swing you from a tree by your intestines.” He’d heard of it done, long ago in Viking packs or something.

“Where the fuck else can I get rid of you?”

 “D-drive to Wayne Munson’s trailer. Do it. Now.”

It was the last coherent idea Steve had. He’d cranked himself back into a ball, wishing for anything, even death, to bring this horror show to an end. At length, he’d gleaned a fresh whiff of Eddie’s scent.

The car door opened. A kind face emerged out of the gloom. Tommy and Wayne helped him out of the car and hauled him up the steps into the trailer.

“I’d sling him straight in Eddie’s bed,” Tommy grumbled. “Unless you wanna be scrubbing slick off your couch for the rest of the year.”

To be fair, Steve felt too wretched to be as slick as Tommy made out. On sinking into Eddie’s shallow mattress, though, he no longer felt so sick, though butterflies rustled in his stomach. Wayne brought in extra blankets and cushions to form a little nest around him, muttering, “There ya go, son. You’re gonna be okay now.”

Wayne got him to sip some water from a plastic bottle and gave off slightly stressy vibes that defied his soothing words. Still, Steve’s butterflies settled, and after he’d drank enough to satisfy Wayne, he settled too. Wayne tucked Steve in with a comforter so infused with Eddie’s scent that a faint chirrup escaped him.

The little room around him, floor and walls, was cluttered with stuff. Cassette-tapes, LPs, clothes, stickers, guitars and bones, and skulls—pictures of those, at any rate. Eddie’s stuff. Steve loved it.

Even without him, this nest proved more healing than any hospital bed. Steve cuddled a pillow to him, pressing it to his aching loins, and drifted away.

...

Chapter 5.2 on tumblr

(it's gonna be fine, okay!?!) Second half of this chapter will be up soon!

Please like and reblog if you’re feeling kind 🥰 it’s so very much appreciated ❤️

tags: @wheneverfeasible @mugloversonly @ellietheasexylibrarian

@strawberryyyenthusiast @stripey82

If anybody else fancies reading more, I would be happy to tag :) Or follow #katya's omega whump

My endless outpourings of Steve whump can be found on AO3 here :)

[serickswrites]

Only Around You

Warnings: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced conditioning, relapse, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Caretaker curled up on the couch, sinking deeper into the conditions, ready and looking forward to a relaxing evening with Whumpee. After everything the two of them had been through with Whumpee's kidnapping and subsequent torture by Whumper and Caretaker's desperate search before finally finding Whumpee barely alive and hanging by a thread, they both deserved a quiet evening. It was the least they deserved.

Whumpee sat stiffly on the couch. Caretaker knew their body still hurt. Knew it was hard for them to get comfortable and relax. Knew that it would take time. Their put their arm around Whumpee's shoulders with every intention of guiding Whumpee to lean against them. Whumpee went boneless and let out a whimper as they fell back against Caretaker.

"Whumpee, what's wrong?"

"N-N-Nothing," Whumpee stammered, "I'm so happy to be around you. Always so happy. And only around you." Whumpee's words were stilted, the tone not at all matching the fear in Whumpee's eyes.

Caretaker removed their arm, sat up, and faced Whumpee. "Whumpee--"

"I'msosorrypleasepleasepleaseletmemakeitright," the words tumbled from Whumpee's mouth as they prostrated themself at Caretaker's feet. They grabbed for Caretaker's pant leg and tried to crawl in Caretaker's lap.

Caretaker pulled back and away. "Whumpee, it's ok, I--"

"PleasepleasepleaseIpromiseI'llbegoodI'llbebetterpleasedon'tpunishmeIwillbebetterIwillbegood!" Whumpee began to sob as they tried to nuzzle along Caretaker's leg.

Caretaker's mouth went dry. "What have I done?" What had they triggered in Whumpee. They knew Whumper had done terrible, unspeakable things to Whumpee. But they had no idea of this. They hadn't seen Whumpee act like this before at all.

"Whumpee," Caretaker tried again as they let Whumpee touch them, "I'm not mad at you. It's me....It's Caretaker." Caretaker cupped Whumpee's cheek.

Whumpee froze. Caretaker could almost see the gears in their brain turning as Whumpee pulled back stiffly. "I'm sorry, Caretaker. I don't know what came over me. I'm sorry." They looked away, blinking rapidly.

"It's ok, Whumpee. You're ok. We're ok. I'm here. You're here. With me. Not Whumper."

Whumpee's bottom lip quivered as they nodded and ducked their head. They shut their eyes as another tear rolled down their cheek. "I....I....I know. I....I don't know what happened to me just now."

Caretaker reached out their hand to Whumpee, but pulled back. They weren't sure where they could touch Whumpee without triggering whatever just happened again. "What can I do, Whumpee?"

Whumpee began to sob again. "I don't know. I just don't know."

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon

[psychologeek]

Whumptobrt #30+31: TimKlone (end scene)

Whumptober index - there are at least 5\6 parts in the series before this No. 30: recovery | Holding Back Tears | "What have I done?" No. 31: asking for help | Making Amends | "I'm alive, I'm just not well." (Elliot Lee, Alive, Not Well.) If anyone wondered "I'm alive, I'm just not well" is a perfect summarry of my current state.

"What's her Kryptonian name?"

Tim stays silent for a moment.

"She... doesn't have one," he finally says, quietly. "

He looks at his daughter, avoiding her father.

"Tim-"

"I- I couldn't, I'm sorry. I know, I could have asked Clark or Kara or- but it didn't feel right. It didn't feel- I'm sorry, I couldn't -"

And there's a hand around him.

"It's okay".

"No, it's not," Tim still doesn't look away from the child in his arm. "It's - it's also her culture. Her traditions. I was - I shouldn't left her out".

"You didn't," is the  quiet reply. "You did your best, and that is enough."

Tim is-

Tim is sitting there, a baby in his arms, and there's another's hand who wipes her face as he cries.

(There's another hand that holds him).

~

"How do you say light?"

The question comes out of nowhere.

"Light?"

"No," Kon says. "Not in English. In that language you sometimes humm in. I remember you once gave an hour long lecture about why Kryptonian names doesn't make any sense. Something about Kal means easy or lightweighted?"

 There's a moment of confusion before Tim realises.

"Or"

"Or what?" Kon looks confused. "What are the options?"

"No, that's how you say light in Hebrew. 'Or'."

Kon's eyes widen with horror,"I'm not calling our daughter Orel! "

"It's actually pronounced Or-el, not o-re-l," Tim corrects him unnoticed.

"I mean, you can also have 'Ori', which means 'my light', or Uri- which is aort of, more ancient and less used? But it means 'my fire'. It's actually also considered to be one of the angels that sits over a newborn's cradle to-"

"Ori," Kon mumbles behind him. "my light. I like it. Ori-El. It's you and me, both of our history, but together. New. And it's a reminder: I'll always have a place to call home, I'll always have a light to guide me. Even in the darkest times."

~

(Like it? I have more mini-fics Whumptober index | And full size fics on ao3. )

[quietlyimplode]

the language of flowers and silent things

Whumptober 2023: Day 30 - borrowed clothing

Warnings: (Christmas?)

Word Count: 3.7k (a long one friends) (Gifs not mine)

Summary: Christmas at the avengers tower

A/N: Please be kind to your fic writers. We are doing our best. Your words and comments mean so much. So if you enjoy it let us know (if you didn’t keep scrolling). One to go after this. <3 <3 thanks for being on the whumptober journey.

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

2014

NEW YORK

CHRISTMAS

Natasha eyes the Christmas tree. Everyone was asleep, she’s sure of it.

She holds off on asking Jarvis, instead tuning into the cadence and quietness of the house.

It’s Christmas.

She knows the presents inside carry things inside them, but she’s taken back to the night in Ohio and compulsively picks one up to shake it.

It rattles and she feels her breath slow.

It’s not Santa, but Tony is just as good as.

There’s a tiny package wrapped in newspaper, her name written on it with a black marker.

She’s sure it’s from Yelena.

She even thinks she knows what it is.

“Come to bed,” she hears, and Clint stands in the doorway, his hair disheveled and face tired.

Natasha pads towards him.

“I got you something,” he says, pulling her close, “and now it’s Christmas, can I tell you what it is?”

Natasha nods.

“Only if I can give you something?” she replies.

Clint disappears, and Natasha finds the package she had wrapped in paper.

“You go first,” she says quietly.

“What are you doing on the 27th?” he asks, laying down and pulling her down next to him.

“I don’t know? Did Fury give us a mission? Do we need..”

He puts a hand to her lips and then reaches into his pocket.

“Nah, but we may be getting married,” he proposes.

Natasha’s heart stops as she eyes the rings.

One has a tiny arrow, and the other has a tiny hourglass engraved.the rings they had decided on months ago, she had completely forgotten about.

“What?”

Her voice gets caught in her throat.

She’d all but given up on the idea that they would ever be able to. The hope she had all gone and the presentation of the rings brought it back as a flush.

“We’ve organised most of it, Pepper and I, but she’ll need to talk to you tomorrow or the day after, just around how you want it to go…”

Natasha flings her arms around him.

“What— hey,” he laughs,

“We’re getting married?” she asks.

He nods, a tear pricking in the corner of his eye.

“Yeah,” he tells her.

“Let’s get married.”

.

The food is what Steve feels he is drawn to. The Christmas meal has him sitting in the kitchen as he works alongside Pepper and Bruce to cook potatoes and green vegetables.

The two turkeys cooking smell so soothing that he keeps looking to the ovens to check it’s not just a sense memory.

They never had turkey, but they did have chickens his neighbor killed and gave them some of - a Christmas gift to the family.

In return, Steve’s mother had darned all their clothes to look presentable at church.

He smiles at the memory.

The community felt like the tower in this moment as he sets the table and hears Clint and Natasha talking and an heated conversation between Tony and Yelena about something he has absolutely no idea about.

He lays the last piece of cutlery down.

The man - Gus, Clint’s friend approaches him.

“Hello,” he greets with a friendly smile.

Maria wanders over to Pepper and Bruce and Gus sits down with a groan.

“Hello,” Steve replies.

“I keep trying to help, but everyone tells me to sit down,” Gus tells him, unprompted.

Steve nods.

“I think they have it covered,” he tells him, looking around, “would you want to come sit with me? Maybe you can tell me how you know Clint?”

Gus laughs.

“That’s a long story, did you know I taught him the magic he knows?”

Steve looks at him intrigued.

“Magic?”

Gus nods, then pulls two coins from Steve’s ear.

Delighted, Steve takes them and gestures to a seat near where Clint and Natasha are talking.

“Will you teach me how to do that?”

.

Bruce looks over to Pepper, feeling nostalgic cooking with someone else.

“Did you know in Kolkata there is a dessert that they’re famous for?”

Pepper looks up intrigued.

“Sandesh,” he smiles, the memory strong of the sweet treat.

“We would eat it all together sitting on the floor, telling stories. More so on special occasions, but it’s times like those become memories, you know?”

Pepper smiles and places her hand on his.

“What did you like doing in Kolkata?”

The conversation flows easily, he’s never spoke a lot about his time there, but as he chats and laughs to Pepper, then as Maria joins in too; Bruce takes a moment and enjoys the feeling of happiness.

He knows it doesn’t come often, and likes to take stock when it does.

Bruce looks to Tony who holds a drink up in acknowledgment, and he nods back with a smile.

The man who made this all possible.

A man who, didn’t seem to judge Bruce on his alter ego- rather he embraced it. He had no context for this friendship. These relationships and community that surrounds him.

Pepper taps him on the back and hands him a plate of potatoes, then together they begin to set the food out.

.

Maria spent time in Japan in her first rotation in the military. She remembers some of it, but the food, god the food she remembers the most.

She doesn’t remember having this conversation with Tony, that rice balls and ramen were her favourite foods but they sit in front of her on the table alongside a host of other foods, some that Pepper and Bruce prepared and others that had been catered.

The others slowly gather, taking their seats at the round table.

Tony and Pepper sit side by side, Bruce sits next to Tony, Steve on Bruce’s other side.

Maria watches as Natasha smiles, a rare sight. Holding her sister’s hand, almost dragging her to sit down, next to Steve, then Clint sits her on her other side.

Gus, the older man, who liked a chat, and brought a bit of magic to the table pulls out a chair for a Maria and nods to the food.

“It’s a lot, isn’t it?”

Maria smiles.

“I hope everyone is hungry.”

Tony stands once everyone is seated, holding his glass up and commanding attention as he so often does.

“I didn’t want to do this,” he opens, “given the attack, the… mission and everything that’s happened in the last month, it didn’t feel right to be celebrating.”

He looks down to Pepper.

Maria sees, when she really looks at Tony, the scared man that just wants to do right by his people. They were wrong to accept Ironman onto the Avengers and not Tony initially.

“It still doesn’t.”

Everyone looks somber, and Natasha holds his gaze.

“But where better to be than together?”

He shrugs with his one good arm.

“We aren’t alone in this.”

He sighs, “I’m glad we are all here and together, and I’m grateful for the company.”

Maria knows the truth under the words, and everyone nods in agreement.

He smiles, a fake one, Maria thinks.

“Let’s eat,” he announces, sitting back down and handing Pepper the broccoli.

.

Gus hadn’t known that there'd be so many people here when he’d agreed. He’d tried to back out, stay elsewhere but Clint had insisted that he stay.

He feels he owes the child more than he knows.

The blow of his brother being dead had brought them closer together but it had clearly been at a cost.

He sees Clint, and is proud of him, and from the others stories tell, the people here in the tower see his goodness and strength of his character.

Clint moves away to talk to Bruce, leaving Gus leaning back wondering when he’d last eaten so much.

“He wants to give you something,” Natasha tells him, coming up behind him and sitting on the chair’s arm.

“The watch, he kept it safe,” she nods.

Handing him a drink, Gus looks up at her; Clint’s fiancé and smiles.

She seems so normal… despite the obvious.

He’s glad of it, though

Nothing like Edith, and nothing like Howard.

Someone… different.

She smiles easily and he feels immediately at ease as she continues.

“He told me what you did for him when he was little,” Natasha pauses, “I know it’s not my place, but I want to thank you for it. You became a safe person in a place of uncertainty and it saved him, and without you he wouldn’t be here with me.”

Gus takes her hand and kisses it.

“You credit me with too much,” he comments lightly.

“The only person that saved Clint was himself. If I had a small part to play in his life, then I’m glad for it.”

“The watch, it was given to me when I needed it. For Clint, he was always so fascinated with the story.”

Natasha laughs easily.

“It can’t be true, that story? The one you told Clint about the watch? Is it?”

Gus nods.

“Of course! Shall I tell you my version and not Clint’s abridged version?”

Natasha sits fully in the chair listening to him as he launches into the story.

It’s nice, Gus thinks, to be around people.

.

After dinner, before presents, Pepper pulls Natasha aside.

“Can I show you something?” she asks, looking nervous.

Natasha feels the nerves but still follows Pepper into the tower, with a small look back to check on Yelena.

She’s talking with Clint and Natasha feels better that she’s not alone.

Pepper leads her into a room, a large one that Natasha hadn’t been before, painted a soft blue. Clearly, they had been staying in this room and not on their floor which was, perhaps; still being repaired.

There’s a large bag that looks suspiciously like it’s covering a dress.

Pepper notices Natasha looking, and pauses in front of it.

She lets her actions speak louder and unzips it to reveal a wedding dress, lacy and white.

“It’s beautiful,” Natasha says softly.

Pepper swallows.

“My mother, uh. My mother is dead,” she opens. Natasha had known this, but had never pried, Pepper had never seemed to want to talk about it and the subject of mothers was one Natasha felt was personal.

“She married my father, they were married til she died. She made this dress.”

Pepper swallows and brings the dress down. Gently she touches the intricacies of the lace and the way it blends into the skirting.

“I wasn’t sure if you had a dress, but if you want to, it’s yours to wear,” she offers.

Natasha’s stomach bottoms out, the generosity not lost.

“What?”

Pepper nods.

“It served her well, I want it to serve you well too,” she nods, holding it up and holding it to her.

“I think it will fit, but tomorrow… if not the dressmaker can make any alterations you need.”

Natasha starts shaking her head. It’s too much, too much to repay.

“No, I can’t, what about you? Don’t you want to wear it? Don’t you—“

Pepper holds up her hand.

“What better honor to share a dress with someone I know and love?”

In that moment, Natasha feels the tears and moves to hug Pepper.

“Do you want to try it on?” Pepper asks in the hug. Wordlessly, Natasha nods.

Taking the dress, Pepper points to the ensuite.

It takes a moment, before she exits.

“You look beautiful,” Pepper breathes.

She steps around, and pushes Natasha to a mirror.

Natasha can feel her gaze, burning directly.

“You can ask,” she tells Pepper quietly.

“Do I want to know?”

Pepper looks scars that moves from Natasha’s back, to her ribs; the four gashes gnarled but white and old.

“You can know.”

Natasha turns in the mirror and reaches across to touch them.

“Was it… was it from the Red Room?” Pepper asks tentatively.

Shaking her head, Natasha turns.

“The Red Room knew how to remove scaring, anything to make us perfect and unblemished.”

She touches the closest one.

“Clint and I were on a mission in Bucharest, we got captured by a militant group that enjoyed using whips as torture. When they saw how much it affected Clint when they touched me, well..” she pauses.

“It looks a lot worse than it was, and Coulson came for us. It’s just that those four were the deepest. There’s probably something they can do to fix it, just like the red room used to, but I don’t mind them.”

Pepper hugs her.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers

Natasha smiles.

“Don’t be, I’m not. I like my scars.”

Taking one last look at herself in a wedding dress, she swallows and leaves to get changed.

“You’ll wear it?” Pepper asks, taking the dress and hanging it back up

Natasha nods.

“Only if you’re sure.”

The laugh that breaks from Pepper is one of joy, and she links arms with Natasha and leads her back to the others.

.

He wishes it were different. Not the intense sense of dread that has been with him since the tower.

Pepper had helped, the movement of tower, how she’d moved things around so that it wasn’t the same.

The small differences that made it so he knew it was his home but also enough that it wasn’t the place that hydra infiltrated.

He didn’t want them here, but he’s glad they are.

He didn’t realise how much he valued his friends.

Adjusting his sling, he grows annoyed and takes it off.

He wonders just how hard it would be to build a motorised arm, and creates a schematic in his head as he watches everyone eat.

He wanted this.

He’s glad for this.

The people milling around him.

Pepper sees him, and even as she talks to Steve, she smiles at him; and despite the sorrow that pulls at him he smiles back.

Bruce hands him some water, and then his sling.

“You should be wearing this you know?” His friend berates.

“Got annoying,” Tony responds.

“It’s okay, you know? To fake it?”

Tony looks across.

“What?”

Bruce points to the mountain of presents and then gestures to the tower.

“Sometimes, faking it helps us to reset and allow others in so we can talk about what really matters and how we really feel.”

Tony looks down.

He doesn’t want to ruin anyone else’s Christmas with his sadness. And he supposes that it is sadness.

He’d usually just drink, but he’d promised Pepper to do better with that.

Be better.

So here he sits.

“The tower is your home,” Bruce continues; “and we all know what it means to you, to all of us.”

Bruce looks intently at him, like the next words are the ones that matter.

“I’m sorry they hurt it,” he says and the words hit deep.

“It’s silly,” Tony mumbles.

“Nah,” Bruce replies, “it’s not. Why do you think we have all worked so hard to be here? It’s our place too.”

It shouldn’t mean anything to Tony, but it does.

He watches Pepper and then Natasha and her sister.

The acknowledgment makes his heart slightly lighter. All the decoration and work Pepper had put into making this day what it was, brings him out.

It matters, not just to him but to everyone around him.

.

The abundance is phenomenal.

Yelena takes a moment to absorb it all as she wants into the room. The tree and presents, the meal, the people. She watches as Natasha smiles easily, holds her drink and easily talks to those around her.

Only having talked to Tony and Clint, she stays more to the side, watching the others.

She doesn’t know what it is but breathing becomes difficult, she takes a step out, the balcony providing shock of fresh air.

She doesn’t belong here, amongst her sisters friends.

It’s too much.

The day has been too nice.

Everything too much.

She doesn’t deserve this.

The thought perseverates in her head.

Looking out over the skyline of New York, she feels sick and her vision blurs.

She feels a body at her side, of course Natasha knows.

“I don’t deserve this,” she says with belief; not wanting to look back at the abundance of food and gifts.

“I don’t…” she gasps, feeling Natasha hand grasp hers.

The hand drags her down to sit on the cold concrete.

It’s slightly a shock.

“I’ve done bad things,” she tells her sister.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Natasha doesn’t say anything, instead she pulls her close, arm around her and rocks her gently.

“Breathe,” she says quietly.

“After all it’s..”

“The secret to life,” Yelena finishes.

The old saying from the martial arts instructor, who seemingly never left the Red Room, does help to slow her breath.

Being held by Natasha on the roof of a tower in the middle of New York in America seems so surreal.

Maybe that’s the point if it.

“You’re exactly where you need to be,” Natasha tells her, hugging her closer.

“It doesn’t matter what’s come before, all that matters is now. Okay?”

It takes a second, but Yelena nods.

The moment is what matters.

She doesn’t deserve this abundance.

But she knows, she’ll likely never have it again.

The moment is what matters.

.

“Hello, old men,” Clint goads at Steve and Gus, laughing as they both frown.

“I’m not old,” Gus says indignantly, “and this man must be…”

Steve holds his hand out.

“I’m 94, theoretically, “ he laughs,

Gus looks aghast.

“It’s a super soldier thing,” Steve clarifies and Gus looks to Clint.

Clint nods, laughs, and passes two beers across, that both take gratefully.

“Come on, we’re going to open presents.”

Gus stands, “I didn’t bring anything?” he grumbles.

Clint clasps him on the shoulder.

“That’s because we said just yourself, now come,” he ushers pushing them toward the great room.

.

There’s more presents than there were last night, Clint is sure. Tony stands dramatically at the balcony on the stairs with a fake bead and a Santa costume tailored to his body, and claps.

It takes a moment but everyone looks, and Tony looks smug.

“They’re colour coded,” he says happily, “so find a present and pass it around.”

As it turns out, Clint gets passed the purple presents and Natasha shrugs as she’s passed the red ones.

He watches Yelena get surprised with blue ones, and Maria with orange.

Bruce’s are predictable green, whilst Gus’ are yellow and Peppers are gold and shiny.

Clint wants to hold this memory.

Remember it forever as he watches his friends smiling and laughing.

He looks Tony who had descended the stairs and helped pass out the presents.

The presents that aren’t colour coded take a few more minutes, but no one goes without, as everyone starts to open them.

Tony’s pile of presents is not colour coordinated, he didn’t bother to get anything for himself, but the presents that sit in front of him are perhaps more sentimental because of this.

Clint sits back, wanting to just watch.

He’s happy.

Despite the trauma of the last week, the frustration of losing the sceptre, he watches his friends; his family smile and laugh.

Natasha sits next to Yelena.

The tiny package in hand and she passes it across.

He watches as Yelena opens it, and freezes.

He thinks she’s overcome with emotion as her bottom lip turns up, and she looks to Natasha for assurance.

The little photo frame with both of them as children sitting in it.

Natasha then shows her its matching pair, one for each of them.

It was an idea she thought of as she looked carefully at the pictures.

It was his turn he supposed.

He turns to Gus opening a present of engraved playing cards, the man looks delighted

Clint holds out his own.

“Open this next,” he prompts.

Gus looks at Clint and looks to the present.

“I think I know what it is,” he says, taking it from Clint and opening it carefully.

“This watch,” he says slowly, “is not mine any more, it’s yours.”

Clint shrugs.

“I said I’d get it back to you?”

He promised, and a Barton always keeps his promises. This one anyway.

“Fine, but you have to wear it one more time, okay? Something borrowed.”

Clint laughs and nods, then hands him another present.

“This one next? It’s from Natasha,” he smiles.

Gus looks slightly overwhelmed, and takes the gift from Clint.

It seems it’s not the only photo frame she’d had made up.

The picture of Gus, Clint and Barney standing under the big top with them all looking serious, gives him pause.

“How did she—“

Clint smiles at his joy.

“I think these things are a lot easier when you know technology and have some super computers behind it,” he admits.

“I’ve got to thank her,” Gus says, standing and leaving Clint to look on.

As far as Christmas’ go, he’s glad for the memories of this one.

.

Natasha watches Tony, worried at how pensive he looks.

He leaves for the balcony and she follows him.

The others seem to mull around them, some cleaning in the kitchen, other sleeping on the couch.

Steve plays with his new iPod, sitting with Maria and together loading songs into it.

She doesn’t know why but the scene makes her smile.

She catches eyes with Clint who sits close to Yelena, both of them throwing Yelena’s new throwing knives at a target, with Yelena growing more frustrated at Clint’s inability to miss.

She nods and he smiles and grabs a blanket as she steps into the cold.

He turns to her and nods.

Sometimes things don’t need words.

Sometimes it’s about those who have lived lifetimes with you.

She wraps the blanket around them both, sitting on the swinging chair and listen to the sounds of the other and sounds of New York.

“We’ll get them, you know?” she promises.

“Yeah,” Tony says quietly.

“Merry Christmas Tony.”

“Merry Christmas, Nat.”

[yonbwekh]

whumptober 2024 day 30

Prompt: Recovery

The first thing Whumpee hears is the beeping of a heart monitor, something they're all too familiar with by now.

The first thing Whumpee sees is Caretaker's smiling face as they come to, sat up in a hospital bed. "C-Caretaker..?" they mumble, not believing it.

Why are they here? The last they remember they were bleeding out on the cold floor of Whumper's bedroom. "You're done serving me." They had said, told them they were useless. Maybe they are, shouldn't be here at all, should have di-

"Whumpee? Aren't you gonna say anything bud?" Caretaker's soft voice pulls them from their thoughts. "You were gone so long.. I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner.." Caretaker says, looking away. "It's.. Okay.. Where am I..?" Whumpee stammer, ribs aching with the effort of speaking.

"Hospital, dear. You'll probably be here maybe another.. Few.. Months..?" Caretaker looks at them apolagetically, smiling. Whumpee just sighs and wraps themself tighter in their thin - albeit comfortable - hospital blanket.

[hero-of-the-wolf]

Chapter Summary: He didn’t see it until it was too late, the gleam of something hidden underneath the foliage

[aziraphalesbookkeeper]

“Varian.” The boy pauses. The body slowly turns. In a slow, eerie movement, Varian tilts his head. He looks like a doll with an unblinking stare. It’s creepy as hell, but not as unsettling as what comes out of his mouth. “Hello, Horace.” Or: Every full moon, Varian becomes a little less of himself, and a little more of something else.

Whumptober Day 30: Bridal carry AILESS Whumptober Day 26: Magical Exhaustion or injury / Curse / Came back wrong

[clintbartonruinedmylife]

Whumptober 2023 - Day 30

"Bridal carry"

“No!” Clint said and folded his arms over his chest. It would’ve looked threatening if he wasn’t lying on the ground and glaring up at Tony, who was smirking smugly. 

“Are you sure?” Tony said and his smirk broadened. “I mean, I can fly back alone and can leave you here.” 

“You wouldn’t” Clint protested and tried to sit up but couldn’t. Instead he groaned in pain. 

“I mean, you don’t want me to take you home, so…” 

“Fuck you!” Clint blurted. “You will not carry me like this!” 

“I can’t throw you over my shoulder and fly you home! Not with your injuries. It’s the only option we have if you don’t want to stay here.” 

“But… people will see me and then…” Clint whined. 

“Okay,” Tony sighed and turned around. “I’ll fly back and send someone with a quinjet.” 

“And leave me alone here?” Clint burst out. 

Tony sighed again.

“You don't want me to fly you home and you don’t want to stay here alone. But you also don't want me to stay because then no one can find us here. And you will probably die of an infection.” 

Clint glared at him for a very long moment before he huffed.

“Fine!” he said. “Fine, do it!” 

And Tony’s smirk was back when he hunkered down beside him, put one arm under Clint’s back, the other one under his knees and hoisted him up. 

“Better clench up, Legolas,” he said, winked, closed the faceplate of his helmet and took off.

[firstdegreefangirl]

Pretty Much Perfect

They’re both laughing as Tim fumbles the car keys. He tries to unlock the door, but the little remote is soaking wet and slippery, so he almost drops it into a puddle instead. Finally, he presses the button and they climb into the truck, drenched and breathless with laughter.

“OK, so we didn’t drown.” Lucy sags into the passenger seat and pushes limp strands of wet hair out of her eyes. “That wasn’t in the forecast.”

“You’ve got a …" Tim reaches out and brushes something away from her cheekbone. “Mud, it looks like?”

Lucy grimaces, but leans into his touch. “Let’s just get out of here. Kojo’s smart: he wouldn’t let you drag him out of bed this morning.”

“He loves hiking!”

“Not in the rain! He must have known something was going to happen.”

“How could he have known?”

“He’s very smart. Let’s go congratulate him.”

Read the rest on ao3 here!

[ajpendragon]

Carry Me

It never got easier, he reflected, arms burning with the strain. No matter how many times it happened, how many times he found himself repeating the same motions, nothing about it was ever easy.

The first time, his brother had been so small, so fragile, that he had been terrified. Any wrong move could have broken him, and Scott had never been so scared. He wasn’t very big himself, only a couple of years old, and he soon grew out of his fear, but that first time holding a tiny baby brother in his arms, he had been so scared, he quickly handed him back to Mom. Of course, in the next few months, he could barely be separated from his brother.

The first time carrying an injured baby brother was even worse. John, old enough to know how much he loves the stars, but apparently not old enough to be smart about it, had been setting up his new telescope on the roof when he stepped too far backwards and tumbled off the edge. Scott had nearly fallen after him in his haste to get down, but had managed to keep himself on the ladder. John, all long legs and arms, was incredibly light, and he had scooped him up, settling his head on his shoulder, not caring about the blood running down and staining his sweater. He kicked the door open, hurrying inside, calling for Mom as he did so. She had taken control immediately, leading Scott into the kitchen to set John down on the counter so she could help.

Gordon he carried far too often. His brother loved the water, oftentimes pushing himself past his limits in his enthusiasm. Whenever that happened, Gordon would flop onto the deck next to the pool and call for his brother until Scott came and scooped him off the floor, arms tucked under knees and shoulders that were still dripping water. Scott would sometimes hold him out at arms length, trying to keep the water off his clothes, which Gordon found endlessly amusing. Scott would drop him onto his bed, throwing a towel at him on the way out.

Alan was the worst. That same fear he had felt the first time he held a baby brother was multiplied and returned a hundredfold when he saw Alan bleeding on the ground. He ran over to kneel at his brothers side, heart resuming its normal rhythm when he saw that Alan was conscious, eyes open and staring at him. “It hurts, Scotty.” He whimpered. Scott scooped him up, Alan still small enough that it was easy. He settled Alan’s head onto his shoulder, taking care not to jostle his injured leg. “I know.” He soothed. “I know.”

Every time, Scott had to fight with himself. His natural reaction was to wrap his baby brothers up in bubble wrap, keep them locked inside the house, safe from harm. But that wasn’t who they were. He could no more stop his brothers from following him into danger than he could stop himself from trying to shield them from it. But he knew, no matter what, no matter how hard it was, no matter the fear and pain, that he would always be there to carry them home.

[sorakh28]

Whumptober 2024- A Break/Shake FST EP

Papaoutai by Stromae- The source of the main conflict in Marth’s story in the series. This song can fit so well in so many fandoms (looking at you, Persona 2), and it fits in this one.

Bein’ Friends by Catherine Warwick- What, I can bring in any music from any soundtrack as long as it’s appropriate, and this is totally Caeda’s perspective on the whole deal! She does help out Marth with his troubles! And it appears in the series!

Bring Me To Life by Wagakki Band ft. Amy Lee- Listen, any version of this song would’ve fit Marth’s feelings for Caeda involving his new backstory, but I purposely chose this version because it is glorious. Japanese instruments has a beauty that works with Break/Shake’s interpretation of Altea.

Running Up That Hill covered by Eivør- I specifically chose this version because I love Eivør and she’s one of my two choices of Ange’s voice. ...Which this song is an Ange song, because for a moment, she did wanted to switch place with Marth, if only to keep him away from the pain he was experiencing at that moment.

Live And Learn by Crush 40- How many franchises can I put in this? Anyway, this is the lesson Marth learns throughout Break/Shake in song form. Sonic was my very first fandom ever, so having a song from the series for this FST makes me giddy af. Love you, Sonic!

Nasty Majesty by Splatoon’s Off The Hook- This is Never Thought: The Vibe. Marth’s prior experiences changed how his worldview and savior complex expresses itself, and from it, Marth can smell bullshit from a mile away, and he’ll also refuse the same bullshit because he has standards. Long story short- DON’T MESS WITH THE CROWN PRINCE OF ALTEA.

[katyawriteswhump]

omega found, omega lost 6/7

Title: Omega found, Omega lost; Chapter: 6/7; WC: 2241; Rating: E; Tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, angst, hurt/comfort. CW: biting. For whumptober day 30 prompt, Recovery. Also, day 5, healing salve.

Chapter 1 on tumblr Chapter 2 on tumblr Chapter 3 on tumblr Chapter 4 on tumblr Chapter 5.1 on tumblr Chapter 5.2 on tumblr On AO3

Preview: Steve notched his cheek in that plane beneath Eddie’s collarbone that had no right to feel so cozy, and inhaled Eddie’s intoxicating musk. Yup, they lay together in full-on cuddle mode. Nice. He blinked open his eyes. “You awake?” asked Eddie. Woah! This link between them bordered on spooky. “How are you feeling?” “Okay,” Steve answered, truthfully. Eddie’s fingers patterned zigzag strokes down the nape of his neck, tracing the path of his spine, and it felt insanely good. He wasn’t sure he’d gotten the strength to do anything but lie here, though, and… something was slightly off. Eddie’s scent-saturated gear surrounded him—the pillows, bedding, and comforter, even some of the cassettes and a ghetto blaster. This wasn’t Eddie’s room, however. Steve’s purrs died, as a bunch of less than awesome questions spun through his mind. What about mom? What about… oh shit, so much. “Where are we?” he asked, because that seemed like the least distressing question.

Chapter 6: I did good, right?

The soft tap on the bedroom door awakened Eddie, who grunted and swiped his hair from his eyes. Steve stopped purring a split-second later. When Eddie reluctantly untangled their bodies, Steve whimpered.

“It’s okay, Stevie. Be right back.”

Eddie confronted Hopper at the head of Wayne’s galley kitchen. “Clock’s ticking,” said the Chief.  “Steve’s Mom knows he left the hospital and they’re on your trail. You gotta get your ass into gear.”

Eddie massaged his temples, grinded his teeth. He couldn’t believe what he was about to say: “If I swear fealty to the pack, they’ll leave us alone?”

They’d discussed Eddie joining the Hawkins pack on the way to the trailer earlier. Before this week, he would’ve rather vomited his own liver out.

“It’ll make things easier, long-term, that’s for sure,” Hopper said. “I’ll still have a shitload of spiked fur to smooth, and you can’t lay low here. I want to return to the station for coffee and contemplation this morning WITHOUT A GODDAMN RIOT ON MY HANDS.”

Eddie almost slapped a hand over the older Alpha’s mouth before pulling up short. “Keep it down, dude! My Omega is sleeping.”

Uuuuuugh, way to go pissing off your best ally.

Eddie backed off. Hopper retained the air of a congested storm cloud. He dialled down the volume anyhow, stabbed Eddie with a forefinger: “You better go wake him then.”

Eddie sat down on his bed, gently touched Steve’s shoulder. “Sorry, Sweetheart. We need to move, pronto.”

Steve pressed into Eddie’s hand, as if trying to capture it beneath his chin, purred loudly, then slept on.

Eddie tried again, singing, “Stevie, wake u-up.”

“Nooooo. Too tired.” Steve hugged the pillow tightly, one fist twisting in the threadbare fabric.

Eddie had no choice but to shake him harder. “Listen, Stevie. Your momma and her Alpha knitting circle are on their way over, needles out.” Steve keened, brow creasing, and steadfastly refused to open his eyes. His limbs began trembling with tension, and his breaths grew snatchy. Anguished, Eddie turned to Hopper, who puffed impatiently into the cramped space behind:

“Outta the way, jackass, I got this.”

Hopper stooped down to manhandle Steve into his arms. He’d barely started, when Steve flashed the whites of his eyes, his pearly Omega canines, and then….

“Ow! Son of a bitch!”

Having nipped Hopper for daring to touch him, Steve wound about his pillow again, and slumbered on.

“He’s nesting,” said Wayne very quietly. Eddie had all but forgotten his uncle was still around. “Shouldn’t get this intense and snappy unless he’s with pup or in full heat. Gotta be the effect of the soulmate bond, Eddie, plus he’s still got healing to do. Moving him could be dangerous.”

“For him or us?” Hopper grouched, flexing his reddened hand.

Eddie was still processing Wayne’s words, which struck a disturbingly resonant power chord: “How do you know so much about… Never mind.”

Deep down, Eddie had known what Steve was up to. Somehow, he knew on instinct. Or maybe Wayne had talked to him about this stuff before, and he’d zoned out because it hadn’t mattered back then. Or perhaps it’d simply been trickling through Eddie these past few days, while fate seized him by the throat and shook him till his brains rattled.

He also knew damn well he couldn’t leave Steve—or Wayne—at the mercy of a mob.

The chord exploded into a killer drumbeat, which was doubtless his heart. He’d accepted the soulmate bond. He’d need to read that bond in everything concerning him and Steve, if he was gonna power this game straight onto level two:

“Right, I’ll get Steve out of here. Chief—do you have somewhere safe lined up for us to crash? Wayne—can you grab the bedding, throw-cushions. Anything soft with my scent on it, I guess.”

“Half the damn trailer then,” mumbled Wayne, calm and accepting.

Getting Steve up wasn’t exactly easy either. Eddie started by nuzzling and cooing behind his ear, then coaxed him with soft knuckle brushes along the curve of his cheekbone. “Stevie, come on. Wakey wakey!”

Steve mumbled crossly, but cooperated by not actually fighting back when Eddie helped him sit. Eventually, Eddie got Steve in his lap, with his arms draped loosely around Eddie’s neck. Eddie hoisted himself to his feet, with Steve in a bridal carry.

He grunted at the strain. Nevertheless, his Alpha’s strength was sure as hell firing through his thighs and back right now, because Steve wasn’t as heavy as he’d expected. Steve appeared to fall straight back to sleep, while Eddie carried him out to Hopper’s station wagon.

…

Steve’s own purrs awoke him.

They mingled with Eddie’s soft growls, which rumbled sonorously near the base of Steve’s hearing. He notched his cheek in that plane beneath Eddie’s collarbone that had no right to feel so cozy, and inhaled Eddie’s intoxicating musk.

Yup, they lay together in full-on cuddle mode. Nice. He blinked open his eyes.

“You awake?” asked Eddie. Woah! This link between them bordered on spooky. “How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” Steve answered, truthfully. Eddie’s fingers patterned zigzag strokes down the nape of his neck, tracing the path of his spine, and it felt insanely good. He wasn’t sure he’d gotten the strength to do anything but lie here, though, and… something was slightly off.

Eddie’s scent-saturated gear surrounded him—the pillows, bedding, and comforter, even some of the cassettes and a ghetto blaster. This wasn’t Eddie’s room, however. Steve’s purrs died, as a bunch of less than awesome questions spun through his mind.

What about mom? What about… oh shit, so much.

“Where are we?” he asked, because that seemed like the least distressing question.

“Hopper’s basement. It was either here, a snack-size Winnebago that was frostier than Wayne’s ice box, or some spider-infested cabin in the forest again. It seemed the safest bet for a few days. Sorry we had to move your… um, nest.”

Nest. He’d nested?

He let that one brew. Oh yeah. The moment he’d sunken into Eddie’s bed, he’d sort of known.

“We’ll find someplace better, promise.” Eddie’s warm breath ruffled Steve’s hair, skirmishing deliciously over his half-lidded eyes. Steve burrowed even closer into his side. Mmmmm, yeah, he could get used to this nesting business. “In fact, you and I can go legit just as soon as Hopper’s got your mom to rein in her bloodhounds. I, uh… I joined the Hawkins pack. I’m one of the gang—under Chief Alpha Hopper’s protection. Woohoo!”

Steve was wide awake in a flash: “What the hell?”

Everything he’d feared about getting together with Eddie in the first place slammed back. Eddie hated the pack! He hated conformity. Christ, would he end up hating Steve for this too?

“What’s wrong?” asked Eddie. “I thought you’d be howling at the moon that I’d come over to the dark side and joined the Evil Empire?”

Eddie’s dumb joke did not help. It took a helluva lot more reassurance and snuggling, for Eddie to calm Steve down again.

“Listen, Hawkins is my home too,” cooed Eddie, rocking Steve against him. “I could’ve left a billion times over. I figured Wayne—and a smaller number of friends than I got fingers on one hand—were the reasons I hung around. Turns out I had another reason. My Alpha needed his soulmate.”

Soulmate.

Okay, that reminder quirked a reluctant smile from the corners of Steve’s mouth.

“I checked with Hopper, and attendance at pack quiz and bingo nights is not compulsory, though I swear I’m gonna kill it at pack ‘battle of the bands.’ Nothing really has to change, Stevie. Apart from us figuring out where exactly we can lay down this little nest for good.”

Already, Steve was feeling tons better. Enough to be embarrassed that he’d nearly burst into tears over a revelation that, on reflection, was mind-blowingly awesome. He melted into Eddie again, let Eddie sooth him further. When his stomach began grumbling relentlessly, he even let Eddie coax him into eating cereal then hydrating with so much water they had to trek up the basement stairs to use Hopper’s washroom.

Huddled back in the nest, Eddie explained more of what he’d found out about the soulmate bond—how it magnified Eddie’s protective senses and rendered Steve even more vulnerable to rejection sickness and pain, if their bond was disrupted.

“Thanks for the sugarcoating,” snarked Steve.

“Sorry, Babe. I had to be honest with you. Suffice to say, if we’re ever parted, I’m going to be dying inside too. So, yeah, Wayne called old Granny Munson, who’s… Well, let’s just say she’s a wise old soul, and I inherited some of my expertise with smokable and edible flora from her.”

“Oh my God, I am literally mating myself into a family of criminals,” murmured Steve, then added, peeping up, “Kidding, Eds. I’m listening.”

Eddie pulled a goofy face then turned dead serious again and pressed on: “Basically, there’s few drugs out there to deal with what you’re going to go through in terms of heats and stuff. The Omega clinics are pretty brutal, using barely tested chemicals, and… Oh crap, I’m sorry, Baby.”

Steve shuddered violently; he couldn’t help it.

“I’ll never talk of that place again,” vowed Eddie, squeezing him tighter than ever, almost bruisingly so, which was exactly what Steve needed right then. The scary memories, already nebulous, evaporated. “We can go old-school, okay? The doctor thinks granny’s herbs will help as much as anything to ease the symptoms of your heats, for starters. We can use modern painkillers and birth-control too, as they’re pretty tried and tested. As long as you’re okay with all of this, Stevie? How we proceed is totally your call.”

“Mmmmmmm,” sighed Steve.

He really was.

It was a tad unsettling, but Eddie was going to take care of him. He listened a little more, while Eddie explained that he, too, would suffer more than an average Alpha if they were ever parted. And if Eddie was hurt or sick, then Steve would be more valuable than any medicine to help him heal. While Steve hated the idea of Eddie hurt, he truly loved the idea that he, too, could be a valuable protector. As he would be for their pups.

By this time, Eddie’s relentless petting had taken its toll. The vibrations from their mingled growls and purrs zoned in on Steve’s g-spot, and he sensed the faint trickle of slick between his thighs.

He absent-mindedly slid a hand between his bare thighs beneath the blankets, curling toward his pussy. The ravenous, fuck-or-die desperation he’d experienced when they’d been in the cabin, and even in the trailer earlier, wasn’t so bad, though.

Maybe because he could trust Eddie now.  Finally trust that his soulmate wasn’t going anywhere.

And he really was so very tired.

…

Steve remained sleepy for the rest of the day. He suggested mating more than a couple of times, but Eddie was firm: “The world weaved her magical juju to bind us together,” he told Steve. “So, we got aaaall the tiiiiime in the world. We need to be one hundred percent sure you’re well enough to take my knot.”

The next morning, the nice beta doctor visited and took Steve’s stitches out. He seemed pretty chuffed with himself as well as more himself again, preening his hair and puffing out his chest after she left: “I did good, right?”

Eddie beamed, not realising how wound up he’d been till he felt his shoulders loosen. “You did good, Baby.”

Wayne’s first import of Granny Munson’s herbs went down pretty well, too.

It included a pot of Munson’s-magical-mushroom salve, blended with nettles and mug-wort. Eddie carefully rubbed it into Steve’s hands, still scarred from where he’d wrenched the hunter’s trap off his ankle. Its tingling, tickling glow set them both giggling like idiots. Less than an hour later, the pink stripes had disappeared. Steve dabbed the salve on some of his bruises then insisted only Eddie could reach the ones near his ass and thighs.

So there Steve was—luxuriating in his rumpled nest of Eddie’s old sheets and comforter, and ancient velour throw-cushions. He’d gotten his legs spread, and peeped over his shoulder while Eddie, ointment in hand, wedged himself between Steve’s knees.

“Can’t hardly see these ones either,” said Eddie. He was battling to keep his focus on the faint grey marks he’d left, days ago, on Steve’s slender hips. It was darn hard work, what with Steve continually flashing the pink folds of his pussy at him. Eddie’s dick was darn hard too, straining against the jeans Eddie had slung on for the benefit of their visitors.

Steve had gotten naked again as soon as they’d been left alone. Now, his gaze seared, laser-like, into Eddie’s tented fabric. He licked lips that had recently been cracked and dry. Now, they were full, pouty and plush.

“Time to mark me again, Alpha,” husked Steve.

“Soon, Babe.” Eddie’s voice wibbled with strain, and he idly stretched forward to pet Steve’s hair. The rest of the world ceased to exist for Eddie, and it didn’t help that most of the basement was swallowed in shadow. “No marks this time. We’re gonna take it niiice and slo—"

Steve snapped his teeth, setting Eddie recoiling, then hissed like a viper. “If you don’t get on with it, Alpha mine, I’m gonna chew your fucking hand off.”

Chapter 7 (final chapter)

Yes, it keeps on getting longer, whoops... 7 will definitely bring their HEA though. Thank you for reading <3

tags: @wheneverfeasible @mugloversonly @ellietheasexylibrarian

@strawberryyyenthusiast @stripey82

If anybody else fancies reading more, I would be happy to tag :) Or follow #katya's omega whump

My Steve whump fic on AO3