#Whump-4-Less

[cyberneticwhump]

Wʜᴜᴍᴘ-4-Lᴇss (Pᴀʀᴛ 3)

Cᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ & Sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ

[Entry for “2023 Year of Whump” challenge, January 15.]

[Chosen prompt: experimental injection + “I promise this won’t hurt”]

[Content: insomnia, syringe, begging, intimate whumper, mentions of torture.]

[Summary: After his training, Natasha visits Damian in his room to make him an offer. She tells him that he has a bright future at Whump-4-Less, and he could start his first session the next day. This keeps Damian up all night, as he isn't ready yet. Before his show, Natasha gives him memory blockers to help with the flashbacks and nightmares later, and he gets ready to step on stage for the first time.]

[Word count: 1.7K]

[PREVIOUS PART]

I ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴜʀᴛ

Twenty minutes.

It was only twenty minutes, and it left Damian broken. He felt like he couldn’t even breathe by the end, and all Natasha was doing was cutting into him and burning him, not even for a long time. She said it gets way worse in the actual sessions, but it was simply too hard for Damian to even imagine that. This was too much.

Way too much.

After dragging himself back to his room, he throws himself down on his bed, holding his arm that has been wrapped in bandages by the medical staff at the end of his training. He just can't get Natasha’s words out of his head, the way she was telling him how good he looked while he was in pain and how much the audience would love him. She said that he was a perfect candidate, and they haven’t had anyone like him in a long time. She even promised him that if he takes the torture well in his first few sessions, she will get him a raise, despite him being a newbie.

But Damian knew he wouldn’t be able to take it well. He knew it was gonna get worse, and he knew it would be too much to handle. As he was laying on his bed, he couldn’t get the memory of the cold blade cutting his skin open out of his head. He couldn’t think of anything else than the overbearing pain spreading through his body.

Just then, he heard a knock on his door, and he jolted as the sudden sound took him by surprise. He got up, wiped the tears from his face, and opened the door.

“Can I come in?” Natasha asks, and her voice sends a shiver down Damian’s spine, which the girl notices. “You know you don’t have to be afraid of me, right?”

“You’ve hurt me,” Damian says, holding onto the bandages on his arm. They still hurt, but not as much since the medical staff gave him some light painkillers after he was practically begging for it.

“I understand, but this is your job now. You signed the contract. But anyways… I came here to check on you. Seems like it was a lot worse than you thought it would be.”

“Y-yeah, it was. I… don’t think I’m ready,” when the man says this, Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder, and gently pushes him aside so she can enter the room.

“Yeah, no. I know you are not ready, but no one is. This is not something you can prepare for. So I suggest we start tomorrow. The club owner saw the footage of your training, and he was very impressed.”

“You said I wouldn’t start until next week,” Damian says quietly, trying not to let his voice quiver. “You said—”

“Well, don’t you want it to be over faster?” Natasha sits down on the bed and invites the man with her hand to do the same. “Come on, sit down. I have an offer for you.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, Damian joins her, avoiding eye contact at all costs. He is focusing on the floor under his feet, trying to get lost in the patterns on the artificial wood.

“We don’t usually do this, but you are extraordinary. I will be straight up with you right now, okay? I’ve been working at Whump-4-Less for more than five years now. I’ve tortured hundreds of people. And none of them… I repeat, none of them had what you have. Everything about you, from your facial expressions to your voice, is so… pure, so genuine. I honestly would be really sad if we couldn’t work together.”

She puts two of her fingers under Damian’s chin, making him look up at her. He doesn’t try to resist; the touch of the woman practically paralyzes him with fear. He is too afraid to move or say anything to her.

“I have an offer for you, Damian. I know it’s your first time, and it’s gonna be hard regardless, but we got our hands on memory blockers recently, and I would be willing to give you some for your first few sessions, until you get the hang of things.”

“Would I still feel it?” Damian swallows in nervousness.

“Of course you would. And it wouldn’t completely erase all your memories, either. It would help dealing with it, reducing nightmares and flashbacks that usually follow the sessions,” Natasha says in a soft, soothing voice while looking at the man’s face, trying to read what he is thinking.

“I… I need that.” His vision is starting to get blurred by tears as he can't stop himself from imagining how bad the pain will be. Just hearing how the sessions cause nightmares and flashbacks fills him with a newfound dread, and he can’t help but start trembling in his whole body.

“You will be fine. No one ever died from a little torture. Besides, I will always be here, if you need me,” she places a small card on the bed next to him, which includes her name and a scannable code, most likely containing all her contact information. “Your first session starts at 9PM tomorrow. Be backstage at around 8PM, at least. Until then, just try to rest.”

“W-wait!” Damien exclaims after the girl stands up from the bed, ready to leave the room. “Will you be the one… doing it?”

“Do you not want me to?” She asks without turning back.

“Just… can you please go easy on me…?” There is a slight quiver in his voice, no matter how much he is trying to hide it.

“Get some rest, Damian. You have a big day tomorrow.”

\ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \ \

The night went by without a minute of sleep. No matter how much he tried to, Damian couldn’t stop imagining the upcoming torture, his first session on stage where he would be brutalized for the sake of entertainment. It seemed unreal, but as time passed, it felt more and more inevitable. He knew that even with the memory blockers, he would still feel every detail of the pain inflicted on his body. He would feel every cut and every burn; he would feel his body getting destroyed with no way of stopping it.

Before he could realize, it was already 7PM on the next day. He forced himself to get out of the bed so he could eat something before his session, then changed into the hoodie he had been wearing the day before, which already had some dried blood on it. It was a light beige color, so the red stains were clearly visible on the sleeves, adding an artistic touch to the otherwise boring fabric.

He took one last look at himself in the mirror; there were dark circles under his eyes due to not being able to sleep, his light brown hair was messy, and he already looked like he had been through hell.

But it was just about to begin.

When it was time, he made his way down to the backstage, where the rumbles of minimal techno were already shaking the walls. Natasha, who had been sitting on a comfortable couch, stood up the moment he entered the room and welcomed him with a warm, genuine smile.

“It’s good to see you, Damian! Are you excited for your first show?” She wrapped her arm around him, as if they were good friends. “You look like you are about to pass out. Is everything okay?”

“I just didn’t have much sleep, that’ all,” Damian lies, visibly uncomfortable by the girl’s proximity. No matter what he thought of her as a person, he couldn’t deny his attraction to her physical features, and her pushing her body against his made him almost as nervous as the approaching show.

“Well, I prepared the memory blockers for you,” Natasha says, and she pulls out a syringe from one of the pockets on her white cargo pants. It’s filled with an opaque, cyan liquid, and the thought of it entering Damian’s body fills him with anxiety. He has no idea how he will react to the drug; he’s heard that some people have severe side effects from it, and it can even cause permanent memory loss or brain damage.

“Are you… are you sure this will help?” He asks, trembling in his whole body from the dread that slowly, but surely fills every part of his mind.

“It’s supposed to. It won’t help with the pain, but it will help you block out the flashbacks later, as it will be harder to remember the events that happen while you are under the effects of the drug,” she pulls away from the man, and flicks the syringe with her finger a few times. “Now give me your arm.”

Damian is frozen in place, shaking with fear, and the girl grabs his wrist, pulling up the sleeve of his hoodie to expose the veins on his arm.

“Please, Natasha… please, I don’t want this. I don’t want to do this. I’m so scared, I… I just don’t want it to hurt… please promise me that you will go easy on me,” he begs quietly, the bass of the music almost drowning out all his words.

“Relax, Damian. It will be okay. I promise this won’t hurt.” With that, she jabs the needle into the man’s arm, who lets out a small gasp of pain as the substance is slowly pushed into his system. It fills him with a cold, calming feeling, and for a moment, he believes he can do it.

For a moment, he believes it won’t be that bad at all.

But soon after that the door opens, and the stage manager enters the room, holding a tablet with the schedule on it.

“Ten minutes,” he says, and gestures towards Damian, who is now sitting on the couch in the corner of the room. “All good?”

“I just gave him the memory blockers. He will be alright,” Natasha replies, to which the man responds with a nod before closing the door behind himself. “You will be amazing, darling.”

[Tᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ…]

[NEXT PART]

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist, feel free to message/send an ask/comment!

[baby-come-bach]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy XV Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Gladiolus Amicitia, Noctis Lucis Caelum, Ignis Scientia, Prompto Argentum Series: Part 4 of AI-less Whumptober 2023 Summary:

Gladio sustains a severe injury from a Daemon in place of Noctis, as the Shield of the King is supposed to.

[lycankeyy]

Can't decide if I want to write abt green or gold rn smh . I haven't written a green fic in a while but on the other hand the johtrio fixation,,,

[mirensiart]

kiznaiver x linked universe au :)

for context: kiznaiver is an anime about a team of 8 teens who’re part of an experiment/project that links (lol) them together so they can share each other’s physical AND emotional pain as a way to encourage the “one for all, all for one” dynamic in the team

NEXT COMIC >

anyway, more brainrot about this au below:

I love kiznaiver it’s such a good concept lol it works so well with the chain imo! anyway some stuff of note is that:

(spoilers for kiznaiver btw!)

1. in the anime emotional pain is more overwhelming (to the point of incapacitation) than physical pain, which I think it’s interesting for the chain considering all the emotional baggage they all carry and how that can be a hindrance for the group in the long run

2. in the anime, there was a failed attempt of this experiment that let to one of the kids to feel ALL the pain (x8) and the others to be painless, which I think would be a great source of whump for the chain if like, they try to cancel the spell but it goes wrong :)

3. great source of whump considering that dark link would only need to grab one of them to cause pain to all the others and get the upper hand :)

4. how team dynamics would change, especially if this happens to the chain at the beginning of the quest, like how wild would need to be less reckless while fighting, how all of their “self sacrificing” habits would be a huge weakness during battle too and how they’d really have to trust each other

anyway, that’s kinda it, i needed to like, express the brainrot this au has been causing me lol

[ailesswhumptober]

Prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2024

As promised, we're bringing you the official prompt list of AI-less Whumptober 2024 today!

We have 31 days of excellent whump prompts, with three prompts per day to pick from, fun themes, and 10 alt prompts to play around with. We hope you enjoy! Additional info + plain text versions of the prompts can be found under the cut.

FAQ and Rules

What sort of content can I create for this event?

You can create whatever you want (fic, art, edits, etc). Any fandom is allowed, as well as OC stuff. NSFW is allowed, but please tag your content accordingly! The only thing not allowed is AI-generated content.

Do I need to make 31 things to participate?

Oh heavens no! You can make as much or as little content as you like, skip days when desired, or combine prompts (so for example, write something that covers a prompt from day 1, 2, AND 3). You don't have to do the days in order either, go wild! To be considered a 'completionist', you only have to make sure that at the end of the month, you've covered 31 prompts from 31 different days, but whether you do that in 31 works or just 1 is up to you.

What are these alts about?

If none of the three prompts of a particular day are your cup of tea, you can swap them out for an alt prompt of your choice.

What are these themes about?

Just a little bit of extra fun for the mods. Like last year, we'll be handing out various badges for people participating in the event. A full list can be found here, perhaps there is a special badge or two for people who can't be completionists but who do manage to finish every single day of a specific theme ;)

How do I tag and is there an AO3 collection?

It suffices to tag your work with #ailesswhumptober for us to see and reblog it! Please also tag nsfw, since we'll be using that tag too. Tagging the day is optional but does help the mods along.

There is an AO3 collection to add your fics to here.

That should be all. If you have any additional questions, check our pinned or hit us up in the ask box. Or join our discord maybe, whumping can be a great group activity!

---

Plain text versions of the prompts:

October 1 - Torture Tuesday

public torture/public use, stress position, “If you cry, we’ll go easy on you.”

October 2 - Whumperless Wednesday

Unfortunate fall, car accident, “Don’t move. You’ll be okay.”

October 3 - Trauma Thursday

Shared trauma, survivor’s guilt, “It’s not your fault.”

October 4 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Painful transformation, non-consensual body modifications, “You’re a monster.”

October 5 - Sensory Saturday

Overstimulation, migraines, “I can’t take this anymore.”

October 6 - Surprise Sunday

Multiple whumpees, self sacrifice, “I’m the only one who can do this.”

October 7 - Medical Monday

Field medicine, running out of supplies, “Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

October 8 - Torture Tuesday

Rope burns, gagged, “You’re so much prettier this way.”

October 9 - Whumperless Wednesday

Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”

October 10 - Trauma Thursday

Self worth issues, pushing away a loved one, “You don't need to earn this.”

October 11 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Hallucinations, truth serum, “Why would you even say that?”

October 12 - Sensory Saturday

Isolation, sensory deprivation, “Can you feel me? I’m right here, whumpee.”

October 13 - Surprise Sunday

Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

October 14 - Medical Monday

Seizures, concussion, “See if you can follow my finger with your eyes.”

October 15 - Torture Tuesday

Waterboarding, removing body parts, “Don’t break down on me yet.”

October 16 - Whumperless Wednesday

Drowning, hostile environment, “I don’t know how anybody could survive that.”

October 17 - Trauma Thursday

Abandonment, misunderstanding, “Why did I even think you cared?”

October 18 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Mind control, possession, “Everybody will end up despising you.”

October 19 - Sensory Saturday

Disassociation, losing a sense, “I wish I could get you back.”

October 20 - Surprise Sunday

Enemy/Stranger to caretaker, accidental de-aging, “I’m absolutely not qualified for this shit.”

October 21 - Medical Monday

Drugged, ambulance ride, “This will make you feel better, okay?”

October 22 - Torture Tuesday

Forced (to kneel/watch/hurt somebody else), whipped, “Do not look away.” October 23 - Whumperless Wednesday

Fever, passing out, “Hey?! Stay with me, okay?!”

October 24 - Trauma Thursday

Deconditioning, relapse, “It’s normal that you need more time.”

October 25 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Humiliation, betrayal, “How could you?!”

October 26 - Sensory Saturday

Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.”

October 27 - Surprise Sunday

Before vs after, Alternate universe, “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

October 28 - Medical Monday

Internal bleeding, needles and stitches, “I didn’t think the wound was that bad…”

October 29 - Torture Tuesday

Ownership, branding, “Everybody will know that you’re mine.”

October 30 - Whumperless Wednesday

Poison, delirium, “You’re not making sense.”

October 31 - Trauma Thursday

Panic attack, facing a phobia, “You need to get out of here!”

Alt prompts:

1) Pistol whipped

2) Co-dependency

3) Animal bite

4) Zombies

5) White room torture

6) Shock collar

7) Pulling teeth

8) Kidnapping

9) “You always make everything worse!”

10) “If you weren’t around, I’d be long dead by now...”

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

For What You've Done

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 4. non-consensual body modifications Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, Past Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader, Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader, witch!reader, f!reader Summary: Five months ago, the love of your life was killed in a car accident. In the aftermath of Jake's death, you and Rooster lean on each other to deal with your grief and soon become a couple. So when you suggest a camping trip together, Rooster agrees. After all, what’s the worst that could happen? Word Count: 5773 TW: Main Character Death, Whump, Non-Consensual Body Modifications, Witchcraft, Car Crash, Drugged, Resurrection, Betrayal, Possession, Vomiting, Language  Notes: A huge thanks to @sunlightmurdock for beta reading this! 💗 Part of @ailesswhumptober's event!

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist

“Now can you tell me why it was so important we came to this spot on this night? Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for spending a few days camping under the stars with you, but the middle of the week when it’s supposed to be fucking freezing isn’t maybe the ideal time.”

Bradley glances over at the passenger seat of his Bronco where you are currently gazing out the window at the trees flashing by. 

You turn your head towards him with a smile and take his hand from where it is leaning on the armrest between your two seats. Giving it a tight squeeze, you say, “I told you, it’s a surprise. But I promise, it’ll be worth it, you just have to trust me.”

“You know I do.” Bradley’s eyes have returned to the almost non-existent road in front of him, but he raises your hand to his lips and places a quick kiss on the back of it. You giggle softly as his mustache brushes against your skin and he wiggles it to make you giggle again.

Bradley’s heart soars seeing you this happy again, even if these moments are fleeting. Before the accident, you seemed to carry the sunshine with you everywhere you went. Your light filled up every room you entered and no one seemed able to be in a bad mood when you were around. However, these last five months…

As if reading his mind, you slip your hand from his and slide it up his cheek until you run your fingers through his hair. “Hey, I know this between us is still new and I’m still struggling with everything that happened to…” You close your eyes and swallow hard as if his name is caught in your throat, still unable to pass your lips. But then you open your eyes and continue, “But I wouldn’t have made it through it without you. Your patience, your support, your love…you’ve been amazing, Bradley. And I just hope you know that what happens tonight, it’s all because of you.”

He gives you a small smile. “I know I’m not him and I’m never going to try to replace what you had, but I’m really happy we found our way to each other. I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you either, sweetheart. But we did it…together. And as long as we’re together, I know it’ll be okay.”

“Together,” you hum, your fingers continuing to run through his curls. “I love hearing you say that because I plan on you being by my side for the rest of our lives.”

There is something about that statement that scratches at the back of Bradley’s brain. Maybe it’s your choice of words or the slightly serious tone your voice suddenly dropped into. 

But before he can consider it further, you perk up in your seat and point out the window. “There! Pull over there! This is the spot.”

Bradley doesn’t see anything special about the place other than a slight clearing in the trees on the right side of the road—just big enough for him to park the Bronco. But, he promised to trust you on this excursion, so he did as you asked.

Once he is parked, the two of you grab your backpacks, sleeping bags, cooler of food, and the tent from the back. You promise it’s not a long walk so you take everything in one trip. After about five minutes of trudging through dense underbrush, unruly trees, and hidden roots, the two of you stumble into a clearing. 

The space is maybe twenty feet across in a roughly circular shape. All of the foliage is suspiciously missing from this space even though it doesn’t seem like it was cleared necessarily. More like it just grew this way. As Bradley glances up, he sees another sort of circular opening in the treetops above, giving him a clear view of the sky as the sun begins to set. 

The place has a strange energy and a chill goes up Bradley’s spine as a sudden wind blows through the clearing. But before he can say anything, you whisper an awed, “We’re here.”

There are tears in your eyes and you begin to bounce slightly as you gaze around. You let out a soft squeal, then compose yourself. Turning to Bradley, you say, “It’s going to get dark soon and we have a lot to do before then. Can you go gather up some firewood? We’ll need a lot to keep it going throughout the night.”

Bradley nods slowly, still not completely sure what he has gotten himself into. “Yeah. I’ll see what I can do. Do you think you can put the tent together by yourself?”

“Oh, I have something else to get ready before that. It’s your surprise,” you say with a wink. “But we can put the tent together when you finish with the wood.”

Deciding to just go along for now, Bradley sighs. “Whatever you say, sweetheart. This is your trip. I’m just along for the ride.” He kisses the top of your head then heads off into the woods.

Thirty minutes later, there is a towering pile of sticks in the center of the clearing. Bradley isn’t sure why you wanted him to put them there considering you wanted to keep most of them for later in the night, but once again, he didn’t question it. However, it did strike him as odd that you seem to have not really done much while he’s been gone. You’ve taken a few smaller bags out of your backpack and laid out some clothes, but that’s it. Meanwhile, he’s been working up a sweat trudging all over collecting wood. 

At least when he brought back his final bundle you gave him a cold water bottle and a kiss on the lips. He downs the bottle as you return to whatever it is you are up to. 

As he watches, everything begins to blur around the edges of his vision. 

He blinks a few times and rubs his eyes, but the blurring only begins getting worse. And what’s more, he’s feeling light-headed. It feels just like that moment in his plane where the Gs get too intense and he begins to blackout. But why would that be happening now?

Stumbling slightly, Bradley mutters, “Sw-sweetheart…I think…I think I need to sit down for a minute. I might’ve overdone it with the w-wood.” 

The next thing he knows, his world spins ninety degrees as he crashes to his side on the clearing floor. He tries to sit up, but every part of him is made of lead and he doesn’t have the strength to even lift his hand. His vision is no longer just blurry, it's starting to tunnel into darkness. He can just make out your feet as they step into his line of sight.

 With the toe of your sneaker, you kick his shoulder so he rolls over onto his back. He’s now staring up at the pinkish-purple sky framed by a circle of treetops.

Then, your face peers over, blocking everything else from view. A cruel grin—one unlike any he had ever seen on your face—stretches across your lips. “No, Bradley, that’s just the drugs I slipped in your water kicking in. I have work to do and I need you to stay out of my way while I do it. So enjoy your little nappy-nap. I’ll see you when you wake up…or maybe not.”

Before Bradley can process what is happening, he is swallowed by the darkness.

Bradley was eyeing the couple in the corner, trying to decide if it was his job to step in or if he should leave them be. After all, this was far from the first time you and Hangman had one—or three—too many drinks on your night off and gotten too handsy for a public establishment. At the moment, things were still fairly tame, but Bradley knew from experience that could change in an instant. Last month, he and Coyote had to drag the two of you out of the bar after Penny complained about the near-pornographic sounds coming from her back booth. 

It had been the last straw. After putting up with your drunken hanky-panky since the two of you started dating ten months ago, Penny finally put her foot down and swore if it happened again, you would both be banned. And as much as it would please Bradley to see Hangman’s face when he sobered up and found out he was no longer allowed at The Hard Deck, Bradley knew the whole squad would be bummed if they lost one of its members for their weekly hangouts. Plus, he had come to really enjoy your presence among the group (that was when you weren’t plastered and attached to Hangman’s lap). So, somewhat reluctantly, Bradley stood and walked over to your table.

Neither one of you seemed to notice him as he approached. You were too busy jamming your tongues down the other’s throat. But Bradley sighed and clapped his hands, startling you apart. “Come on, you lovebirds. Time to go home.”

Hangman’s eyes were slightly out of focus as he shifted you slightly on his lap so he could glare up at Bradley. “Aw, come on, Bradshaw. Just because you aren’t gettin’ any doesn’t mean you have to spoil our fun.”

You giggled into Hangman’s neck and Bradley swore he saw you lick his skin before mumbling, “Don’t be mean, Jakey. Maybe Bradley just wants to watch.”

“No. Bradley definitely doesn’t want to watch,” he groaned. Crossing his arms over his chest, Bradley said, “Look, I have an early morning meeting with Cyclone tomorrow so I’ve got to get some sleep. But Penny’s already threatened to kick you out and I’m not going to let one of you drunk idiots drive home.”

“Jake’s drunk, I’m fine,” you grinned. You slid off Jake and straightened up to prove your point, but the slight sway in your stance only served to further Bradley’s assessment. 

He sighed again, pressing his fingers to his eyes. “Sweetheart, I can smell the booze on your breath from over here and something tells me you wouldn’t make it to the bar without falling over. I’m driving you. End of discussion.”

You pouted, your bottom lip jutting off your face in a way Bradley had to admit was adorable, but it didn’t sway him. He held out his hand and, after a moment, you rolled your eyes and dug your keys out of your pocket. Slamming them into Bradley’s open palm, you stuck out your tongue at him. But then you gave him a clumsy wink and he knew even if you did remember tonight, you wouldn’t hold it against him. 

Walking ahead, Bradley patiently held open the door as Jake and you stumbled across the room, each leaning heavily against the other in a mess of limbs and slobbery kisses. When you made it to your truck, Jake helped you climb into the back, his hands roaming across your ass far longer than necessary as he pushed you up the tall step. Then he dragged himself into the front seat and closed the door. 

“Seat belts.” Bradley waited for a second but neither of you made a move to follow his instructions. Sighing, he said, “I’m not going anywhere until both of you put on your seat belts.”

“Yes, Mom,” both of you mocked in unison before collapsing into a fit of drunken laughter, but at least he heard both belts click into place.

As he drove towards Hangman’s house (where you had moved in a few months ago), the two of you continued your slurred dirty talk, occasionally throwing nonsensical jabs in Bradley’s direction for making you leave early. Normally, he might have tried to fire a few back, but it was too much fun listening to Hangman smugly say something he thought was so clever only for it to be nearly incomprehensible in actuality. Bradley couldn’t help but laugh at a few particularly bad ones.

He never saw the other truck run the red light.

It slammed into the passenger’s door, sending your truck spinning out of control as broken glass filled the air. Bradley tried to control the steering wheel as it jerked in his hands, but his head smashed into his door and he blacked out.

He came to a few moments later—his vision blurred and his head pounding—to the sound of you screaming from the back seat. “No! Jake! Nooo!”

Apparently, nothing sobers a person up quicker than seeing their greatest fear come to life in front of their eyes. 

Bradley slowly raised his eyes to the rearview mirror, a fresh stab of pain driving through his head, and looked back at you. With blood pouring down your face from where your head slammed into the seat in front of you, you thrashed around for a moment until you managed to unbuckle your seatbelt. Ignoring the glass covering the interior of the truck, you pulled yourself forward between the two front seats and crawled into Jake’s lap. 

It was only then that Bradley got his first look at his other passenger and he immediately wished he hadn’t. 

All it took was one glance to see that Jake Seresin was dead. 

Between the unnatural bend of his neck where the seatbelt still dug into his skin and the glassy, blank stare in his once-spirited green eyes, Rooster knew his wingman was gone. There was nothing anyone could do to save him.

However, you apparently refused to accept that.

Laying your head on his shoulder, you begged, “Baby, please, wake up. Don’t do this. Come back to me. Please, Jake.” 

You placed your hand on his cheek and gently tried to turn his face to look at you. His head flopped unnaturally far backward and Bradley felt bile bubble in his throat that he struggled to keep down. 

Your eyes grew wide as your bottom lip began to tremble. “No, no, no, Jake, no. Please, baby, I love you. You can’t—you can’t—no!” You sobbed and buried your face in his chest.

Bradley heard you muttering something under your breath, but he couldn’t make out what it was. It almost sounded like something in another language but not one he recognized. He began to worry that your head injury might be worse than he initially thought.

He softly called out your name and began to reach out to touch your shoulder, to try and move you off the corpse of the man you loved. Yet before he could, your head shot up. Your eyes darted across Jake’s face once more, almost as if you expected something had changed in the last few seconds. But when you saw that it hadn’t, your mouth opened wide and you let out an ear-splitting, heart-wrenching wail.

That wail has haunted Bradley ever since that night, and it is that wail that is echoing in his ears as he slowly opens his eyes. He can’t be sure how long he was out, but it has gotten significantly darker since his eyes were last open. Stars dot the midnight blue sky above and a full moon rests perfectly in the center of the clearing opening. Dark shadows stretch and dance against the trees surrounding the clearing, cast by the blazing fire that had materialized while he was unconscious. 

You are standing in front of the fire, muttering something under your breath. As Bradley watches, you toss a handful of powder into the flames which flare deep red for a second before returning to its usual yellow-orange glow. Your flannel shirt and jeans from earlier have been replaced by a flowing black dress that brushes the ground just high enough to reveal your bare feet poking out underneath. 

The clearing floor is littered with broken sticks, burrs, and rocks, and, as you move around the fire, he notices you are leaving a faint bloody trail in your wake. Yet you don’t seem to notice or care as you continue whatever you are doing undeterred by any discomfort. 

Suddenly, Bradley’s stomach lurches and he rolls to his side just in time to vomit, the contents of his stomach spilling across the clearing floor. He heaves a few more times before things settle, and he collapses onto his back once more.

“Ah, good. You’re awake. I was afraid I gave you too much and would have to start without you.”

Bradley turns his head to see you still standing by the fire, but your attention is now fixed on him. Slowly, on trembling arms, he pushes himself to his feet. “What is this? What the fuck are you doing? If this is some kind of game or kinky shit I didn’t know you were into, I don’t like it.”

“Are you really that stupid that you still don’t get it?” you sneer, the cruelty in your voice cutting into his heart like a knife. “Five months ago, the man I loved more than life itself was ripped from my arms because of you. You insisted on driving that night even though I told you I was fine and because of that, Jake is dead. If you had just stayed out of our fucking business, he would still be here with me.” 

No. That’s not what happened. Bradley takes a step toward you. “Sweetheart, tha—”

“I’m not your fucking sweetheart!” you snarl, your eyes burning with a hatred that takes his breath away. “Do you know how repulsive it's been pretending to love you? Letting you touch me, kiss me, all the while despising every atom in your body for what you took from me. The only thing that kept me from strangling you in your sleep was the knowledge I still needed you for my plan to work.”

Bradley’s mind is still groggy from the drugs, but things are finally starting to click together. “So all of it was just a lie? Leaning on each other after Jake’s death? You were just using me? For what? You still haven’t explained what the fuck you’re doing to me!”

You continue on as if he hadn’t spoken, your voice filled with cold fury. “I knew how to get everything I needed. All I was missing was a host. A body for him to return to. But as much as I ached to have my Jake back, I knew I couldn’t take an innocent person’s body. It wouldn’t be fair and he wouldn’t want that. But that’s when it hit me. Why not take the body of the man responsible for Jake losing his? The one who should have died in that crash instead of him? Why was it fair you got to be here when he didn’t? So…I’m going to change that.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Bradley laughs in disbelief, the absurdity of the situation not fully processing in his brain.

Your face softens just a fraction and you scoff lightly. “Jake never told you, did he? Though, honestly, I’m not surprised. I don’t think he ever really believed me when I told him. He thought it was all a joke, a bit of ancient fun family trivia that was all nonsense. But it’s all true.” Taking a step closer to him, you pull out a small, leather-bound book from a pocket in your dress. “You see, Rooster, I am part of one of the oldest magical bloodlines in the known world. In other words, I’m what you might call, a witch.”

Bradley looks from you to the book to you again. Then he mutters, “You’re more insane than I thought you were.”

“We’ll see about that shortly enough,” you say with a thin-lipped smile. Then you begin strolling slowly around the fire. “Up until I lost Jake, I was more than happy to only dabble in the light side of my magic: A calming spell attached to my aura to soothe those around me. A positivity potion mixed into the cookies I made for the squad when you all weren’t getting along. A good luck charm tucked into Jake’s flight suit when he was leaving on a mission. Just tiny things to make all of your lives a little better. And I was more than happy to do it. But now?” 

You stop walking and turn to face him. “Now, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to bring my Jake back to me. Even if that means tapping into the kind of magic I’ve sworn never to use. That’s why we had to come to this spot on this night. It’s a place of unlimited power for those strong enough to tap into it. And tonight, that’s just what I plan to do.”

Bradley still doesn’t believe a word you are saying. Maybe it was the trauma of seeing Jake die. Maybe it was something from your past before you met any of the Daggers. But whatever it was, something had knocked a few screws loose in your head and Bradley had to find a way out of here before you turned violent. 

He had spotted a knife attached to a belt around your waist, but he is fairly certain he can disarm you if it comes down to it. Yet, even though you are talking about hurting him and that everything you had been through together had been a lie, he still cared about you and didn’t want you to get hurt—get help was a different story, but first he had to get out of here.

However, almost as if reading his mind, you give him a small smile. “It’s too late, Rooster. There is no escape. I already started the ritual while you were asleep. All I need now is blood.” And you draw the knife from your belt.

Bradley takes a few stumbling steps backward, but you shake your head. “Not yours. I’ll be taking enough from you already. No, this sacrifice is mine to make.”

Before he can stop you, you slash the knife across your palm. You drop the knife to the ground with a soft cry as you clutch your hand to your chest. But then, you hold out your shaking hand to the fire, letting blood drip into the flames. 

Suddenly, the entire clearing is engulfed in a blinding red light. Bradley squeezes his eyes shut but he can hear you chanting something across the clearing. He doesn’t understand the words but he recognizes some of them as what you muttered in your truck the night Jake died. 

Figuring you will be distracted, Bradley opens his eyes and tries to sneak off into the woods. However, he only takes a few steps before a vice-like grip latches onto his throat. His eyes bulge as his fingers claw at whatever is choking him, but his hands only scratch against his own skin. He looks at you but it only increases his panic as he sees your eyes are now two pitch-black orbs as you continue your chanting, a strong wind beginning to sweep through the clearing. 

Then, Bradley begins to feel a strange pulling sensation deep within him. His body remains exactly as it was, but something—his consciousness, his soul, whatever it is that makes Rooster the man that he is—is being dragged down and out of himself. He tries to fight it, to hold on, but how do you fight something that is happening within you?

As he feels himself being pulled deeper, slipping from his body, another consciousness brushes against his. A person he immediately recognizes and never thought he’d meet again. “Jake?” he gasps. Tears begin streaming down his face as the presence grows stronger and he just manages to whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

Then Bradley Bradshaw is gone.

Jake Seresin opens his eyes to find himself in an unfamiliar clearing at night. Towering trees surround the space, illuminated by the full moon high above and the towering, flickering flames in the nearby fire. As he glances around, he rolls his shoulders and stretches his back. His entire body feels…off. He doesn’t have any words to explain it but something is not right. 

But just then, he notices a woman standing across from him in a billowing black dress. It takes him a moment to recognize you, and when he does, he inhales sharply.

Gone is the bright, smiley, vibrant woman he had come to love with his entire heart and soul. Instead, you are a ghost of yourself: Your hair has been dyed pitch black and it looks like it’s been a while since you washed it. Your cheeks once full are now sunken. And you have huge bags under your eyes as if you hadn’t slept for weeks. Yet, your eyes themselves are the most startling change. Once sparkling and full of sunshine, they are now dull and carry a pain in them Jake has never seen before. 

Taking a shaky step towards you, he calls out, “Baby?”

As if you have been holding your breath in anticipation, you gasp at the sound of his voice. “Jake? Is it…is it really you?”

Who else was it supposed to be? “Ye-yeah, it’s me. What’s going on? Where are we?”

“Oh my god. I did it,” you breathe as you stare at him in awe, your eyes dancing across his face, drinking in every inch of it. “I didn’t know if I’d be strong enough, but it worked. You’re back.” 

Before he can ask what you mean, your eyes roll back in your head and your knees give out beneath you. Normally, Jake would have been able to cross the distance and catch you instantly, but for some reason, his movements are strangely clumsy and uncoordinated to the point he just barely manages to grab your arms and pull you close before you hit the ground.  

You moan softly as he lowers you both to the damp ground and he settles you into his lap. As he tries to reposition you, he notices your feet are bare, coated in mud and steaks of blood. There is also blood oozing from a deep gash on your hand. Your skin feels icy to the touch despite the heat of the fire and he can feel your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. He's still not sure where you both are, how you got here, or what happened to get you in this state, but none of that matters until he can make sure you are alright.

Gently running his fingers across your cheek, Jake mutters, “Come on, baby, you've gotta wake up for me.” He clears his throat and pounds once on his chest. Something about his voice sounds off—he doesn't sound like himself yet there is something familiar about it that he can't quite put his finger on.

But that's forgotten as he watches your eyes start to slowly open, the act seemingly arduous as you struggle to lift your lids. However, as you gaze up at him, the bright, tender smile he had come to love so much stretches across your face. Slowly, you raise a trembling hand to cup his cheek. “Jake. You’re really back.”

“Why do you keep saying that? I didn’t go anywhere.”

“It’s a long story.” You wet your lips and mutter, “Can you help me up?”

Jake scrambles up (still strangely tripping over his own body) and gently helps lift you to your feet. You take a few unsteady steps forward but then seem to find your footing. Turning to face him, you say, “This is going to be hard to hear but I promise, it’s the truth.” You stare at him and when he nods for you to continue, you take a deep breath. “Jake, you died five months ago.”

“What?” Jake’s brow furrows. “What are you talking about? I’m not dead.”

“No, but you were.” you take his hand, your blood smearing across his skin. “What’s the last thing you remember before waking up here?”

“I-I don’t know. I guess…We were at The Hard Deck having some drinks an-and Rooster, he told us he was taking us home. Then I remember a bright flash of light and—” He gasps, clutching his neck as he remembers hearing a sharp snap followed by a single second of the most intense pain he’s ever felt then—he woke up here. Yet his neck feels fine now, if somehow thicker, more muscular than he remembers but that wouldn’t explain the pain. 

You nod. “That’s when it happened. Rooster was t-boned by a drunk driver and you broke your neck. He should never have been driving us. I was fine! I was more than sober enough to drive, especially with my protection spells. If he would’ve just kept his fucking nose out of our business…” You close your eyes and slowly take another long, deep breath. When you reopen your eyes, you continue, calmer than before. “I tried to get to your body in time but your family had you cremated before I could try to bring you back. I thought it was over and you were gone for good. But then I found another way. I needed a body. It didn’t have to specifically be your body. And since it was Rooster’s fault you were taken from me, it was the perfect solution.”

“Wha—”

Suddenly, Jake realizes why his voice doesn’t sound like his own yet is still so familiar. Why his limbs don’t feel the same and his neck is thicker. And as he lifts his trembling hand to his face and his fingers brush against a coarse strip of hair covering his upper lip, any lingering hopes that he might be wrong are shattered. 

It’s not possible but he is trapped inside Rooster’s body.

With his eyes wide and voice shaking, Jake screams, “What did you do? What the fuck did you do?”

You stumble back, surprised by his furious outburst. “I-I gave you back the life he stole from you. I gave us another chance.”

“And Rooster? If I'm here, then where…” His voice trails off as the last piece of this nightmarish puzzle slips into place and he finally realizes the full extent of what you had done.

“It’s simple, Jake. A life for a life. One soul traded places with another. You’re here now, so Rooster is…” You shrug with a slight wave of your hand, clearly unbothered by the unknown fate you had sent the other man too. 

That complete callousness towards a man you had both cared for is all Jake needed to know he hadn’t only lost his wingman, but the woman he loved. He drops to his knees—Rooster's knees—and violently heaves onto the ground. Over and over, his whole body—Rooster's body—convulsing as it tries desperately to rid itself of everything in it, including the intruder. Yet try as he might, nothing comes up. Not even bile. Rooster must have already gotten sick before… 

Another full-body tremor sweeps through him.

When he is finally able to pull himself together even the slightest bit, Jake crawls to his feet. Backing away from you, he stutters, “I'm…I'm going to go to the police.”

“And tell them what?” you snap, your eyes turning black as a wind picks up from nowhere and blows through the clearing. “Tell them you're a dead guy in your friend’s body while his soul is currently rotting in hell or wherever the fuck you were? What good do you think that's going to do you besides landing you in the looney bin? No. You're either stuck in Rooster's body or you're going back to where you were to join him. And I'm not losing you again.”

Raising your hand in front of you, fingers reaching out towards him, they suddenly twitch and Jake feels this body stiffen outside of his control. As you begin to slowly twitch one finger then another, Jake's foot lifts and steps closer to you. Then another step. And another. As much as he tries to struggle, Jake can’t resist as you force him to walk across the clearing and stop before you.

Cupping his face with your non-controlling hand—your eyes still black—you whisper, “This is not how this was supposed to go. Jake, you love me. You were supposed to be happy I brought you back.”

“Maybe…” Jake squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to hide the disgust crawling down his spine at your touch. “Maybe I would have been if things were different. But I can’t live my life knowing it’s at the cost of Rooster’s. I don’t care what he might have done. No one deserves this.”

You thrust your hand downward and he drops heavily to his knees at your feet. Running your fingers tenderly through his curls, you coo, “I know you need time to adjust, baby. I’m sure this is a lot to take in. But let’s just make one thing very clear—” You suddenly grab a fistful of hair and yank his head back so he is forced to stare up at you “—I brought you back and you belong to me now. One way or another, I will have the life I was always supposed to have with you before any of this started. You can either be a good boy and accept that so we both can be happy, or you can make this difficult and I will make you behave.” 

You ball your hand into a fist and Jake feels like his brain is about to explode. An intense pressure unlike anything he has ever felt squeezes his mind and he sees sparks explode behind his eyes. You release your hand and the pressure disappears, leaving Jake mewling and quivering on the ground. 

You place your filthy, bloody big toe under his chin and raise his head so he is looking at you. “Do we understand each other?” Jake has no choice but to nod. Your eyes return to normal as your bright smile from before returns to your face. “Good! Then you better start practicing your best rooster crow. From now on as far as anyone else is concerned, you are Lt. Bradley Bradshaw.”

Jake feels like he is going to get sick again, but you just turn around and gather up your belongings. In no time, you are ready to go. Jake takes one last look up at the full moon, tears streaming down his face. 

And, as he is forced to follow you out of the clearing towards the waiting Bronco, he wonders if Rooster’s fate is really so bad after all.

Taglist: @ohtobeleah, @green-socks, @lorecraft, @heart-0n-fire, @mayhem24-7forever,

@blue-aconite, @the-untamed-soul, @inglourious-imagines, @airhogger, @piscesvancouverite,

@straightforwardly, @bonnieelizabethparker, @srry-itshockeyszn, @flyinlove, @fandomhopped,

@yjwnoot, @wanderdreamer, @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy, @callsign-phoenix, @shanimallina87,

@forever-sleepy-sloth, @notroosterbradshaw, @dezthegeek, @blessupblessup, @cherrycola27,

@phoenix1389, @nicangelinee, @smells-like-perfect-senses, @boringusername3, @petlaufeyson,

@cycbaby, @footprintsinthesxnd, @fantasticcopeaglepasta, @writercole, @onebigfangirlworld,

@wkndwlff, @ravenmoore14, @clancycucumber230, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @kmc1989,

@deppresseddyslexic, @horneybeach1, @mandylove1000, @aczhang777

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

y'all it's uh. it's Done. and this "random lil snippet just because i think it'd be Neat :)" clocks in at um. 10k, give or take

delighted to report that one of my all-time favorite pastimes CONTINUES to be nerfing the absolute shit out of lucius and watching him figure out how to win Anyway :)

in related news: four (4) hours of writing time on this random-ass wednesday fixed me, more news at 11

[simply-whump]

Love Next Door (엄마 친구 아들)- Whump List

Whumpee : Choi Seung Hyo played by Jung Hae In

Synopsis : Choi Seung Hyo is the most noteworthy young architect in Korea. He has experienced moments that he wants to erase from his life. Those moments usually involve Bae Seok Ryu, his childhood friend. She worked hard as a project manager, but for some reason, she quit her job. Now, they meet again as adults. (MDL)

Genres : Comedy, Romance, Family

Warning! Possible spoilers below!

Choi Seung Hyo

Ep 1 : (35:00) Stops a shelf from falling, small statue falls on his back, wincing in pain, concern for him, back slightly bruised, scar revealed on his back — (48:05) Hit with leeks while shielding someone (comedic)

Ep 2 : (13:50) In a headlock, choked (more or less playfully) — (31:00) In a headlock again (comedic)

Ep 3 : (Flashback) (50:00) Hit by a car, on the ground, gasping, worried family out of the operation room, leg in a cast, told he has to give up his athletic career, crying (Gif Set) — (01:04:45) Depressed, pushing his loved one away, limping — (Present) (01:10:40) Head pushed under water (comedic)

Ep 4 : None

Ep 5 : (30:20) Stubs his toe, in pain, in the hospital, toe sprained (comedic) — (31:50) Drunk — (33:20) Limping, foot in a cast

Ep 6-8 : None

Ep 9 : (01:11:00) Looking sick, stumbling, concern for him, in bed, feverish, looked after — (01:17:50) Wakes up in bed, towel on his forehead (Gif Set) — (01:21:25) Shocked, teary-eyed, emotional

Ep 10 : (03:10) Teary-eyed (me too), emotional — (59:20) Emotional

Ep 11 : (11:50) Head hit by a door (comedic), ice put on his head — (27:20) Learns a shocking news — (31:50) Drunk, helped to walk, teary-eyed, crying — (01:07:05) Tripping, worried for someone— (01:10:40) Emotional, teary-eyed, crying

Ep 12 : None

Ep 13 : (01:18:00) An accident happens on a construction site, in the hospital, arm bandaged, concern for him

Ep 14 : (01:20) On a construction site, falling debris, on the ground, in pain, arm injured — (03:35) Arm bandaged — (01:11;15) Drunk, helped to walk

Ep 15-16 : None

>> More Whump Lists

[wickjump]

This isn't whump but I had a thought on the way to work about mtt poly + crepic, what if they were all competing for Cross's affection but it's not in a "I'm better you should love me instead of him" way, it's all a big excuse to spoil and fluster Cross as much as they can and they're all in on it

OH MY GOD YES. after being deprived of affection his whole life cross now has 4 boyfriends who love him very much and that’s perfect for him. he deserves it..!!!!!!

cross absolutely freaked out when it first started and he has not gotten any less flustered over the months. because he’s been wrapped up in self loathing for AGES and now all of a sudden there’s four different people flirting with him? his face is like a goddamn grape half the time because of them. they gift give cross a lot,, he deserves to be spoiled by them i think bc we all know his dad never did. he deserves lots of physical touch and quality time too methinks…..

i like them a lot sighs,, i think epic and the mtt have way too much chemistry too which is what spurred this ship on in my mind (and im a fan of mtt poly too,,) I think they should all date and be happy and get to comfort each other through tough times idk

bonus though if there’s some actual rivalry at first even if only for a little. either between all of them or the mtt and epic because they don’t know each other well. epic could think they have bad intentions and doesn’t trust them bc they’re literal murderers and the mtt isn’t fond of an ‘outsider�� being so involved in cross’ life when he’s very able to tattle on them because he lives in the OT.

and then they go “wait. okay you’re lowk kinda hot. what about this. you know what would be infinitely funnier? let’s tag team him” and now cross is their no.1 victim. he’s obliterated any time he enters a room.

i like to think they’d take him on dates he doesn’t realize are dates. but they think he knows it’s a date (i mean, who takes their coworker/best buddy to a nice dinner, drive in movie theatre, and end the day with a bouquet of flowers platonically??). or rather he thinks he’s overthinking everything and taking things the wrong way because his skull is thick as shit.

meanwhile nightmare is aroace and wondering why the fuck everyone is so happy and distracted as of late. please get back to work im begigng you. WHY do i find you all sleeping in the same bed?? .WHY IS EPIC IN THAT BED??? HE DOESNT EVEN LIVE HERE???????? (he’s just subtly moving in at this point)

[izukusjuicythighs]

bkdk fics i read because was it ever casual

Horikoshi keeps feeding us bkdk crumbs like wtf??at this point they HAVE to be canon bkdk hospital kiss confirmed I was izukus freckle ALSO IM KINDA IN A BLOCK RN whenever I finish a fic my yappin brain always has something to say but rn its real quiet so uh🤡

left me no choice(but to stay here forever)

summary: Izuku learns early on in life that the people he loves will always leave him.

So when Kacchan asks him to be his boyfriend, Izuku kisses him and starts grieving for the inevitable.

words: 6,925

chapters: 3/4(updating)

notes: im quite aware that its a bitchy move to inflict pain on ppl but jm gonna do it anyways lol READ THIS AND WEEP I literally wanted to gorge my heart out and then slap all of my love into izuku idk it evokes complicated feelings??normally hate reading unfinished fics BUT THIS!!gave me a life changing experience within 7000words dammit

be my good luck charm

summary: See, the thing is, Midoriya Izuku had been born with a curse. It’s not a curse that’s particularly visible. He doesn’t have horns, or a tortured face, and it’s not the kind of silly curse like a friend of his had way down south in Diagnor, wherein the girl had been born without the ability to say the word duck. Midoriya Izuku is just extremely unlucky.

(Or the AU in which Izuku's the world's unluckiest traveling merchant, and Katsuki is someone who may be able to help him. For a price, that is.)

words: 6785

chapters: 1/1

notes: cute lil oneshot for yall cuz mha fans r in dire need of fluff rn yknow why🤭 how to date a hottie101 by bkg: set ur crush on fire to show ur undying love(WRITE IT DOWN WRITE IT DOWN)

Barberries and Variegated Knotweeds

summary: The Fight Another Day Agreement is a required legal document for all professional heroes. In the event of a life-threatening injury and the hero and their proxies are unable to respond on their behalf, medical professionals may do whatever it takes to keep the hero alive.

For Izuku, whatever it takes means removing flowers from his lungs, forcing him to forget about the love of his life. The aftermath leaves Izuku bewildered at the sight of a man with spiky blond hair and red eyes the color of Japanese barberries.

words: 19,286

chapters: 4/4

notes: YET ANOTHER HANAHAKI FIC WITH IZUKU WHUMP I just love seeing my favs go through it🤠I've read so many hanahaki fics ud think I'd be used to it but NOPE THIS SHIT HAD ME ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT was ready to downgrade 1 dimension to solve this shitstorm myself

If It's You

summary: “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Katsuki said. “You did not just ask me—me—to try and date your loser step-brother.”

He wasn’t even going to say Deku’s name out loud. Wasn’t giving him the time of day, even in a conversation about him. That weird awkward virgin was not worth his precious time, and certainly not what Kirishima was suggesting.

“But Bakugouuu,” Kirishima wailed, hanging off Katsuki’s arm with monster meathead jock strength. “My dad said I can’t date if Deku doesn’t date. Do you understand what that means?”

“Less chance of knocking someone up and creating more of you in the world?”

words: 16,863

chapters: 1/1

notes: 10 things I hate about you but make it bkdk I LOVE THIS SHIT angsty dramatic misunderstanding high school aus are my JAM also somewhat gives off from the sidelines vibes so if ur into that defo read

Down the Red Line

summary: His mom is the first person to know about it. She finds out when Izuku asks ( in a very cute three-year-old way) why can’t he see the red line that connected him to Kacchan in the last picture they've taken. The one where they were about to enter Kindergarten on their first day.

"Red line?"

"Yeah, Mamma. This," Little Izuku says, raising his pinky finger to show her the thing tied to it.

Izuku has been able to see the red strings of fate since birth. It's no surprise that his is connected to Katsuki.

words: 7,804

chapters: 1/1

notes: one of my absolute favs since 2021 MAKES ME SO FUKCIN MAD I have to put my phone down and contemplate life for a few mjns while reading it but it's so good??my red string is tied to thjs fic pls

[cyberneticwhump]

Nᴇᴡ Jᴜɪᴄʏ Wʜᴜᴍᴘ Sᴇʀɪᴇs 🩸

Cᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ

[The story takes place a hundred years from now and features Whump-4-Less, a popular nightclub company. Here, people can work as Whumpees and get paid to get tortured, while visitors pay to watch/do it themselves in the form of private sessions. The main character, Damian, is a man who has lost his job and has to resort to applying to be a Whumpee, as no other places want to employ him. Here, he meets Natasha, a resident Whumper at the club, who he forms a really dysfunctional connection with over time.]

Pʀᴇʟᴜᴅᴇ

The year is 2123.

Everything has changed over the years – the environment, the cities, the people. Cybernetic enhancements have become widespread among humans instead of the occasional accessory, and electronics have melted into organic tissue. But with the improvement of technology, and easy access to any type of media ever created, people have become desensitized to it.

They needed more.

They needed something that makes them feel things.

Violence has become an everyday occurrence. When people couldn’t get off from pleasure anymore, they started getting off from pain. Hundreds of citizens were bleeding out on the streets daily, and there was no way to control it. Security and medical systems were overwhelmed, and society was getting out of control…

Until one day.

The Government issued a law that permitted the use of specifically trained people, called Whumpees, whose sole purpose was to get tortured by anyone who was willing to pay the price. The Whumpees were generously compensated for their services, as their bodies were nearly destroyed during their jobs. Of course, with the technological advancements, medical procedures were much easier and faster than before; in a matter of a few days, any injury could be treated, and people were able to recover from even the harshest of conditions.

After this change in the law, numerous places opened across the megacities of the planet, offering different types of services provided by Whumpers and Whumpees. Anyone could find what they were looking for. There were no limits in fulfilling one’s fantasies – other than the terms and conditions, of course.

One of the biggest corporations that arose was Whump-4-Less, which made it possible for people to access all kinds of pain for a relatively low cost. It changed the lives of many people. On one hand, it helped those unfortunate citizens who had a hard time paying their bills, since being a Whumpee paid better than most jobs. And on the other hand, people who visited, could experience their darkest desires in a controlled environment, without endangering other individuals.

It changed the world for the better. But could it be sustained?

[Tᴏ ʙᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛɪɴᴜᴇᴅ…]

[NEXT PART]

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist, feel free to message/send an ask/comment!

[febuwhump]

febuwhump 2024 survey results

has it been six months since febuwhump? yes. yes it has. nevertheless, here's the cold hard data (analysis) of the survey from febuwhump 2024: feb five.

firstly, this year was our most popular yet! with 1417 works in the official collection across 329 fandoms, we made (and shared) 103 fics more than 2023, and 770 more than my first year running febuwhump in 2021! this isnt even including all the art and fics posted to tumblr, or wasn't shared during the event, which would put our total so much higher!

the prompt list had 4000+ notes and i received 115 responses to the survey.

there were 62 people in the hall of fame, up from 51 in 2023.

the blog hit 2,683 followers, up from 1,946 at the end of the 2023 event.

across two independant check, based on the average word count of 2,000 words per fic in the 2024 collection, and aware of the multi-chapter fics (some of which were finished after the event), it is estimated that 2.8 million words were written for febuwhump 2024. which is just. fucking insane.

now, onto the survey results!

firstly: in what way did you participate in Febuwhump this year?

with extra write-ins not pictured, fanfiction was the overwhelming winner with 92 responses (82.6%), followed by original fiction (22.6%) and artwork (11.3%). interesting to me personally is the 4 responses who wrote poetry and the not-pictured 1 response who created web-weaving! which is very cool and i would like to see it.

fandoms

according to the survey:

the most popular fandoms written for were the star wars universe and legend of zelda universe (8/115 responses)

21 responses included original fiction

the majority of responses also referenced more than one fandom, meaning less people stuck to a single fandom or topic the entire time.

according to the collection:

21 anime/manga fandoms were represented

51 books/literature fandoms were represented, 12 being specific star wars subseries

24 RPF fandoms were represented, including bands and minecraft servers

the most popular fandoms written about in the collection were:

star wars (all media types) - 253 works

star wars: the bad batch - 80 works

torchwood - 66 works

original work - 56 works

my hero academia - 54 works

why and how

next, there were a lot of really lovely responses about why participants took part in febuwhump, a few favourite and repeated responses being that it seemed fun, they'd done it before and so wanted to do it again, and they liked to write about their favourite characters suffering. also, multiple people have been doing it for three of the four years i've been running it (of five total), and several were encouraged by friends!

the majority of participants discovered febuwhump through tumblr, the admin's tumblr, ao3 fics and discord servers. a handful said there's apparently a google doc floating around that houses a whump event calendar. i would be interested in seeing that if anyone's got it.

did you participate in Febuwhump 2020, 21, 22 or 23?

the majorty of respondants were new comers to febuwhump at 66.1% "no" to 33.9% "yes". the majority of comparisons to previous years referenced a noticably bigger community, more interaction on the blog, and the admin being more "confident" (oh, you guys), however several noted that the prompts felt more repetitive or samey this year than they did previously.

are you a Febuwhump completionist or participant?

a fairly even split, 51.3% of participants didn't finish compared to the 48.7% who did. however, only 88.1% of those completionists submitted to the hall of fame.

for those who didn't complete, the most common amount of prompts completed was 2 (13.6%), 3 (11.9%) and 12 or 6 (6.8%).

the most common place to share prompt fills was tumblr (74.8%), ao3 (72.2%), or choosing not to share at all (7%). several write-in responses said that they were planning to share in the future but hadn't yet. and while 76.4% of people submitted to the ao3 collection, those who didn't claimed it to be because the fics weren't ready to be shared on time, they weren't following the rules so didn't add to the collection, an inability to find the collection on ao3 (i swear i'm working on it) or shyness/fear.

what went well/even better if:

the only actual criticsm of the event received was that the blog was posting in a "spam"-like way, to the point that the participant almost unfollowed (and another suggested a reblog tag so it could be ignored easier if people didn't want to see the works throughout the month).

several comments asked for a later deadline for submission to the collection/hall of fame, which is going under advisement, but the current position is that by doing so, it makes the event a different event. there are no stakes to actually create once a day if, at the end of it, you actually get 2 weeks of extra time.

another couple mentioned there being too many dialogue prompts and vague prompts. this will be considered during the next voting period and prompt collation - potentially, if i allowed less dialogue prompts into the final 100 vote, less would make it through to the official 28, however the voting itself is out of my hands (unless voter fraud occurs once again).

the main suggestion for improvement (8 times out of 44 suggestions) was for an additional mod to help with reblogging more. (which imo flies in the face of the "spamming" from earlier, but there is surely a middle ground). this is likely to not happen, because i like running the event alone, despite the major burnout i receive every single year without fail. but thanks for your concern lol.

on discord:

31.3% of participants were in the discord server (which, this year, ignored the first year's 100 user cap and had 172 total users).

43.6% of people who didn't join the server did so because they hadn't heard of it, while the majority didn't join because they were either shy (the minorty) or don't use/like discord (the vast majority). i don't know if tumblr still does groupchats and if that would be a viable alternative, or if there is another forum/chat location that would work better (or to have in tandem), but i am open to suggestions.

of the people who were in the channel, most (33.3%) used it "rarely", followed by "most days" (25%) and "for half the month" (22.2%)

febuwhump 2025

the majority of responses wanted next year's colour scheme to either be red or green, but shout out to everyone who wanted orange, the person who said "children's hospital" and the other person who gave me this specific hex code: #4BEC13

which is vile, but also another vote for green.

finally, here are my favourite suggestions for febuwhump 2025's colloquial name. previously, we have endured febuwhump 2: electric boogaloo, febuwhump 3: tokyo drift, fourbuwhump and feb five.

febuwhump 6 suggestions:

fe6uwhump (which, i'll be honest, is a real contender)

"I don't know"

febuwhump 666

febuwhump: revenge of the sixth

"I don't know, sorry"

"febuwhump sex and make all the prompts kinky"

"??? i have been thinking about this for 10 mins"

febuwhump 6(9)

feBEEwhump

"i am bad at this"

"could not care less"

febuwhump feb five 2: electric boogaloo

apparently, i accidently made this a mandatory question and that made some of you mad :(

and that's the wrap up survey, six months late! any questions/queries/want to see some of that cold hard data? send me an ask. i'll actually respond to it i swear! (probably!)

[snakebites-and-ink]

Whumpmas in July Day 28: Fill someone's whump prompt from Day 4

I chose to use this prompt (the first one) by @moons-cozy-corner

CW: Conditioned whumpee, self-imposed dehumanization

Whumpee was aware enough of what Caretaker was doing.

Problem was, they didn’t want it. Whumpee didn’t want to be independent, or free, or even a person. They just wanted to be a pet with a decent owner. Surely that wasn’t so much to ask? And they would happily be Caretaker’s pet, if only Caretaker would treat them as a pet.

But Caretaker was bound and determined not to. They never hurt Whumpee, at least, which was good. But Whumpee almost would have rather taken a punishment over all these humanizing mind games.

Whumpee sat—up at the table, that was one battle Caretaker had won—for dinner. They still wouldn’t start eating without some form of permission from Caretaker, though.

After their meal, the two settled in the living room. Caretaker sat on the couch. Whumpee sat down at their feet.

Caretaker had said they could sit wherever they wanted, but Whumpee could tell they would rather Whumpee sit with them, like a person. They would have to make it an order, though, or Whumpee was not going to do it, no matter how their instincts sang that they should be anticipating their owner’s wants and trying to please them, direct orders or no. Whumpee did want to be good, but right now their choices were between being a not-so-good pet, or not a pet at all.

Whumpee nuzzled against Caretaker’s leg. “Please pet me?” They put on their best puppy eyes.

“You know there are other ways to get positive contact. You could come up here with me. We could sit, cuddle, lean against each other…”

“No,” Whumpee said. They didn’t elaborate; if they explained their reasoning, Caretaker would go on again about how they were a person, not a pet, and they should be treated like a person. If they didn’t say anything more, Whumpee could maintain plausible deniability. Maybe they were a person who just wanted their hair played with. Maybe that way they could get Caretaker to pet them.

Caretaker sighed, “Alright,” and Whumpee felt a hand in their hair. The gentle touch felt so nice. Whumpee always loved being petted. But their enjoyment was undermined by the knowledge that this wasn’t genuine owner-pet affection, rather something Caretaker felt obligated to do out of respect for Whumpee’s wishes. Resisting Caretaker made them feel less happy. Yet the touch was such a sweet sensation. It was worth it, but only just.

When it was time for bed, they separated; Whumpee had their own room. Caretaker had also presented them with a bed for humans, not a pet bed. Normally they would have considered it spoiling them to let them up in a person bed, but Whumpee knew what Caretaker was trying to do. Instead of going along with it, they pulled off all the blankets and pillows and made themself a nest on the floor.

Before turning in for the night, Caretaker went to check on Whumpee one last time, and found them curled up in a bundle of bedding on the floor. Caretaker sighed, but pulled a blanket up higher onto Whumpee’s shoulder and brushed their hair from their face affectionately. Whumpee was sweet, but Caretaker had their work cut out for them.

Masterlist

[howlsofbloodhounds]

The idea of Killer offering to behave like he did with Nightmare or Chara any time he feels insecure about his place at Color's side has been haunting me.

I think the offer would most likely only come from Stage 2 (mainly because Stage 1's answer to feeling insecure would probably be self-isolating, Stage 3 would most likely just go do something productive, and Stage 4 has never changed the way he acts anyway). I think that would be the closest he'd get to admitting a vulnerability and the idea is fucking me up

Thinks of that one kist post that said dust should put cigarettes out on killer and that one about color spectrum duo smoking weed and that whump post about a whumper who smoked and used whumpee as a living ashtray by putting cigarettes out on their skin results in them instinctively offering up their arm to be ashed on to a caretaker that was currently smoking some time after being rescued

like killer & color are chilling somewhere while killers in st1 & when color goes to put out the cigarette in the ashtray and killer feels a rush of conflicting emotions such as dread anticipation hurt and fear and pain and it triggers him into st2 who reacts w/ barely restrained masochistic enthusiasm (perhaps a tad eager as if he was waiting for something like this) and instinctively without thinking bares up his arm for color to burn and mark him

2 would probably both offer himself up when triggered from 1 and when feeling insecure me thinks. only now there’s less a sense of detached fawning and getting enjoyment mostly just from the pain itself (like it would be with nightmare) and more a mix of wanting and insecurity and it coming specifically from color himself and wanting him to stay and now almost like he wants (or needs) color to use him

{ @stellocchia }

[katyawriteswhump]

omega found, omega lost #4

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

Title: Omega found, Omega lost; Chapter: 4/5; WC: 2356; Rating: E; Tags: Steddie, Omega Steve, Alpha Eddie, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, nightmares.

for whumptober prompts day 19: blood trail, abandoned cabin, one way out. day 20: emotional angst, and day 22: bleeding through bandages, day 26: nightmares, and day 27: voiceless (yes, whoops, that's a lot of whump!)

Chapter 4: "I have no mouth and I must scream"

Then came the shout: “Alpha—get away from the Omega. Come out now, and if he’s unharmed, we’ll spare you.”

Eddie jumped up, insides wrenching at the small distance between he and Steve, while Steve was so sick. He glanced around, loathing even to rip his eyes from the Omega.

Was there any other way out of the cabin? Could he somehow haul Steve over one shoulder and flee? He’d never wanted to be a clod-headed beefcake kind of Alpha. Right now, it could be helpful. If they could get out. He assessed only the one door and two windows, the closest of which was now shattered and letting in a sleety gale.

An impotent growl escaped him. He grabbed for his damp pants, hoiking them on. He might make it out alone, but he couldn’t leave Steve at the mercy of a baying pack. Even Steve’s own pack. Eddie trusted them less than ever. Was this it… was he gonna die?

All this streaked through his head in a few seconds. He’d not even started to properly lose his shit, before another shout boomed from outside:

“What the heck are you morons doing throwing rocks? What you gonna do next—burn the cabin down?”

Eddie recognised that rumbling voice. Jim Hopper, chief Alpha of the Hawkins pack. Yeah, Wayne always claimed he was a reasonable guy. The idea of handing over Steve to anyone, however trustworthy, gouged like a jackknife in Eddie’s gut. He dashed to the unbroken window, squatted down, and glanced out.

 A couple of Alphas—oh, yeah, and Steve’s Beta dad—prowled the thawing snow, carrying rifles and sticks.

Nope. No sneaking out that way.

“You gonna open this door, Alpha, or do I kick it down?” Hopper hammered on the flimsy wood.

“I’m coming.” No choice. No damn choice.

Eddie dragged his shirt on, slunk to the door, pulled the bolt aside. Hopper barged in, and Eddie stood his ground between the larger Alpha and Steve—shoulders squared, fists clenched, his lips peeling back from his gums and his incisor-fangs quickening. He expected the larger Alpha to grab him or go straight for Steve. He wasn’t sure how he was gonna defend the Omega, only that he must.

Should he really make a dash for that shard of glass and slash it at Hopper’s throat?

Hopper’s attention latched straight onto Steve, and he made no sudden move. He closed the door behind, before the rest of the pack could swarm in, which was unexpected: “Christ, tell me he’s alive, Munson.”

Eddie was stunned enough to let Hopper pass.

“Yeah, he’s… he’s alive, okay?” Eddie hurried back to Steve’s side. “I found him caught in a hunter’s trap, and he was bleeding and scared and really, really cold.” Christ, in the minute since he’d unwound his body from Steve’s, the Omega’s lips had turned a worrying shade of blue. “Look, you gotta get him to a hospital. The rest of your pack can…”

Eddie trailed off, mouth hanging open. Stop thinking like a knot-head Alpha and think like Eddie Munson.

He wasn’t gonna beg to be torn to pieces, especially for so little ends. That said, Hopper appeared to have no intention of chewing his head off, at least not literally. Eddie shoulders and spine sagged, and his head drooped: “How many of your goons are out there?”

“There’s a dozen Betas and three more Alphas, all howling for your blood.” Hopper huddled Steve in the blanket and scooped him up into his arms. Eddie bristled at his own helplessness and a tinge of jealousy. “We didn’t even need the blood trail to follow! He’s letting off scent like he’s gone into heat, and we scented you too. Did you knot him?”

“No! I swear on my life.” His sudden fear for Steve proved the most painful stab yet. “You can’t let them punish him, man.”

Hopper effortlessly jostled Steve up a little, so Steve's lolling head rested against his shoulder. “The Omega is the least of your problems, Alpha. If it wasn’t for your uncle, I’d rip your throat out myself, apart from… this is as much my damn fault as yours.” Huh? Eddie hadn’t been expecting that. Nor Hopper’s guilty glance down at Steve. “I should have kept him glued to my side last night. Look, you better get outta here pronto.”

“How?” Eddie flapped his arms around wildly, reverting to the feckless teen he’d been only a couple of years before. “There’s only one way out.”

Hopper chuckled dryly. “Your old man knew different when he hid out here. There’s a panel behind the stove.  Took me ages to figure how the crafty old dog gave me the slip. Go. Hide. I’ll draw them away. Make sure nobody torches the place.”

Eddie obeyed, hating it. What choice did he have? While he sensed Hopper had Steve’s best interests at heart, he churned with anger at the whole damn world, and at himself.

Fuck, he was such a terrible Alpha. This proved how unready he was for a soulmate, let alone fatherhood and shit.

He had to let Steve go. Others could take better care of him.

As he hauled aside the stove, he dared not glance over his shoulder, in case he shed an incriminatingly un-Alpha tear.

…

Steve had been sick and hurt. Of that part, he was sure. But he’d been okay.

Eddie’s warm scent and body had enveloped him. The brush of Eddie’s soft lips had comforted him. Then he’d been ripped from that safe cocoon and hurled straight into Hell.

Barbed fangs glinted in an inky blackness, and the beast pounced, fangs piercing deep into Steve’s leg. It lifted him in its jaws and shook him violently, before smashing him into the icy ground, a hunk of dying meat.

He couldn’t hear his own scream after scream after scream. The exposed nerves and tendons in his ankle screamed louder, mocking his silence. The stench of his blood clotted in his nose and clogged up his throat, already shredded by his useless cries and thickened by terror.

Can’t breathe… can’t… can’t…dying… dying… dead? Eddie… Alpha... Please help me… It hurts… Eddieeeeee!

A wall of darkness slammed down. He floated, lost, mercifully senseless. When the dreams kicked off again, they weren’t all so bad. He was in a dingy cellar, chained to a damp brick wall, and… Okay, this was exactly how Tommy H claimed he’d wind up, some rogue Alpha’s plaything.

Steve was fiiiine with it.

Eddie was there, his body slamming Steve’s flush to the bricks. He nuzzled Steve’s throat tenderly, dragging his tongue over Steve’s mating gland. Steve’s every sinew strained toward him, trying to purr and rub into him. He couldn’t glean Eddie’s delicious scent. Violent shudders dragged him back from the cusp of getting slick.

“Eddie?” he whimpered. “Eddie, please? Where are you?”

When Steve finally opened his eyes for real, he squeezed them tight again before daring to peep.

He was in a hospital room. He’d gotten an IV drip attached to his arm, and other scary wires had been attached to his chest, poking out of his hospital gown. His heart lurched, and a green line spiked on a bedside monitor.

How did he get here? Last thing he recalled was Eddie… the cabin… Oh, Christ, what was real and what wasn’t? His head throbbed so hard he feared his skull would crack, and his stomach felt like somebody had punched it.

“Eddie,” he croaked, though nobody was around to hear. “Eddie.”

The next time he stirred, daylight stung his eyes. His mom stood at the door, talking to a doctor, “Mom?” he whispered. She didn’t turn her head. “Mommy?” Okay, that was shameful. “Please… mom? Where’s Eddie?”

His voice couldn’t compete with the penetrating hum of the strip-light.

I’m an Omega, not a pushover.

Yeah. Right.

Holy crap, he couldn’t leave the house alone without screwing up, bigtime, and his voice was little better than that of a ghost’s. Tuning into the doctor’s conversation didn’t exactly help:

“Mrs Harrington, you must understand—your son bled through bundles of fresh bandages after we brought him in, which made little sense. When he was found, he was sick, but his injuries had started to heal. He was never hyperthermic, yet he GOT WORSE. The bleeding has finally stopped, but his vitals have never stabilised.”

“Could he be pregnant, Doctor? Should I book him into an Omega Clinic?”

“It’s hard to tell with Omegas. I wouldn’t want to subject him to any invasive examination, let alone have him moved while he’s so sick.”

“But…”

With pup?

Steve’s blood simmered beneath his clammy cheeks.

And now his mother talked of the Omega clinic. Would she really dump him in that horrible place again, though they’d had to drug him to the eyeballs to survive it? And why, oh why, must he picture Tommy H, cackling in his face?

Did my soulmate fuck me and ditch me? Or was the whole soulmates BS all in my ‘air-brain little head’? Did Eddie knot me and skip town?

Okay, he’d literally been asking for it. He’d begged Eddie for dick and opened his legs to him like a ‘wanton little hussy.’

Was Tommy right about him? Tommy was right! His mom, too?

“I’m no Omega specialist,” the doctor was saying. “However, at this stage, the best remedy may be to find this rogue Alpha your son has been crying out for.”

“Yes. Hunt down that lowlife dog and destroy him for ruining my son.”

Steve’s panic ripped through him like a floodtide. His shallow breaths refused to sooth his clenching lungs, and his skin broke out into a cold sweat. By the time the doctor’s attention slid his way, he was full-on flipping out.

The next few moments passed in a terrifying blur. He fought the suffocating blankets and yanked the wires from his arm and torso, before more than one set of strong hands pinned him down. A sharp prick on his arm was echoed by the cool glide of a needle into his skin. Cool air flowed from the mask placed over his face. He drifted into dreams and that murky basement, wandering it like a spirit.

“Eddie,” he murmured, “Where are you?”

…

Three days.

Three fucking days.

That was how long Eddie had skulked in this dingy brick basement—pacing to keep warm, punching the bricks, wringing his battered hands, and all but ripping his hair out. He’d passed hours squatting in a corner, holding his drooping head.

Christ, he should get the fuck out of Dodge.

Perhaps distance could kill this agony. This crushing misery at knowing Steve was dangerously ill and being unable to see him, let alone do anything about it.

Yet Eddie wasn’t going anywhere, which was lunacy. None of his designs for life included mating a high-class Omega who’d grown up, basically, in a palace. Oh, and Steve’s mom had put a price on his head.

Ten thousand dollars. Dead or Alive. Seriously, where was he living—the Old West? Medieval Europe?

“Why me?” Eddie was muttering, over and over. The soft tap on the basement door set him snarling.

Okay, it was his and Wayne’s secret knock, based on an old Def Leppard guitar riff. Damn, Eddie was skittish as a goddamn Omega. Wayne descended the rickety wooden stairs, and Eddie leaped up, sweeping his heavy unwashed hair from his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Had a visit from Hop and Steve’s dad.”

“Shit!” Eddie buried all eight fingers in his uncombed tresses. “Did they follow you here?”

“What sorta fool do you take me for, son?” Wayne chuckled, squeezing Eddie’s super-taut bicep. Eddie teetered suddenly on the brink of throwing his arms around his uncle and bawling his eyes out. Anything to release the tension thrumming through his every vein. “Wouldn’t have mattered if they did. Hop talks the talk about ripping your throat out, nothing more. I swear to God, he begged for your help.”

Eddie met Hopper around the back of the hospital, near a delivery entrance for the kitchens. On sighting him, Eddie stopped dead, smacked his boot heel loudly onto the ice-hardened asphalt.  

The older Alpha’s lips peeled back, hostile vibes billowing from him. Then Hopper pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned:

“Okay, Munson, stand down.” He hurled some scrubs at Eddie. “Gonna smuggle you in. Apparently, your Omega pepped up no end on learning we were trying to contact you on the sly. Even the docs are bleating on about the soulmate bond—it’s the worst case of rejection sickness in living memory. So, yeah, let’s move. We’ll deal with the nuclear fallout in the morning.”

Eddie pulled on the scrubs and tied back his hair, using a scrunchie he was pretty sure Hop had swiped off his daughter. He followed the Chief through the quiet corridors, struggling to get his head together.

Soulmate bond. Rejection sickness. Some doctor had more or less prescribed Eddie as a cure? He snatched a swift, fortifying breath.

You got this, Munson. Make your Omega well again, and everything else is gonna be child’s play…

…hahaha, seriously? You gonna rob a bank or something?

Screw it. Perhaps he would.

After they’d passed through the dark kitchens, Eddie sensed something off. He’d smelled Steve over a mile off in a snowy forest, and yet… Okay, maybe that was Steve’s musk he detected, heavily interwoven with others,’ and faint beneath the tang of chemicals.

It was way too faint and soured with a bitter tang that set Eddie’s guts flipping.

He shoved past Hopper and sprinted up the corridor. He followed his nose up several flights of stairs. Along a dark corridor, he almost collided with an angry nurse, then he rounded a corner and slammed into Steve’s dad. Eddie braced the Beta and shook him, taken aback by huge, scared hazel-brown eyes, startlingly like Steve’s: “What is it? Is Steve okay?”

“I-I don’t know. He’d been on the mend since I promised to find you. I came over to break the news you were on your way… and he’s gone and discharged himself.”

...

Chapter 5.1 (it's gonna be fine, okay!?!)

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 :)