#gun whump tw

[ohtobeleah]

Was It Over? // Jake Seresin

-> Epilogue: Part One [Boulevard of Broken Dreams]

Summary: You received a call you and Bradley Bradshaw have been waiting on for what felt like a decade. Jakes mother causes a scene as worry consumes you. And does Jake want the very thing that put him in the hospital in the first place?

Warnings: Jake Seresin Whump. Mentions of Religion. F!reader x Jake Seresin. Angst, Mother-in-law issues. F-18 crash. Bad Medical representation.

Word Count: 6.2k

Author Note: EEEPPPPP we're almost there. this is the chapter EVERYONE has been waiting for. Just what the hell is going on! Please don't forget to let me know what you think.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

December 23rd 

Your genetic makeup, the genes that you inherit from your parents, determines who you are biologically. They’re your blueprint so to speak. Everything from your eye colour to your height to your laugh. Even some diseases like asthma, diabetes, and various cancers. 

But who you are at the core of it all goes far beyond your genetic makeup. Who you really are is the result of many, many things: How you deal with fear. Who you surround yourself with. And how you show up when it matters most. 

The sea breeze was a gentle reminder of how quickly life could change in the blink of an eye. As you walked along the sand with small, barely there waves lapping at your ankles, the sight of families running after beach umbrellas and holding down sandy towels after the sudden gust of wind came through and caused a disturbance, really made you smile. Smiles were a treasure that was few and far between. It had been for months. 

The somewhat sunny day was shrouded in the unknown. Chronic winds continued to wreak havoc on unsuspecting families just trying to enjoy their weekend. A storm was brewing off the coast. But for you, something much more life-altering was wreaking havoc. Something all-encompassing and certifiably depressing was eating away at your soul. 

Your boyfriend and the love of your life had been severely injured in a work accident just over two months ago. His mother is certifiably insane and clearly doesn’t like you even existing on the same planet as her son… and his best friend hasn’t left you alone in what felt like a century. 

But who were you to compare tragedies on this fine, sunny day? 

“There you are!” The second you heard that agitating, grading voice, you rolled your eyes so hard you could have fallen into the shallows. The flightless bird you knew as Bradley Bradshaw was racing after you, making his presence known along the shore as he ran to catch up. “God, you had me worried for a second there. I was talking to Sue for like five seconds and you were just gone.” 

“Some bodyguard you are,” you huffed as Bradley finally caught up to you. It wasn’t that you didn't like Rooster, it was more about the fact he felt obligated to keep an eye on you given the circumstances. “How is Sue anyway?” 

“Uh–” Bradley looked back over his shoulder hesitantly to see the woman he’d been dating for the last few weeks walking away. “I don’t think we'll be seeing Sue much anymore.” It was all the explanation you needed. And if you were to be completely honest you didn’t blame the women. Who wants to fight for attention with a man whose sole responsibility these days was to keep his best friend's unborn children safe? 

“You should be paying more attention to the women you’re trying to sleep with you know,” you replied as you kept walking down the pristine beach. The place that had become a home away from home. “I’ve told you, I don’t need a babysitter. We’re good, I promise.” 

It had been an unspoken understanding since meeting Jake’s wingman that Rooster would look after you if anything were ever to happen to Jake. It went both ways for the two aviators from hell. Although at times the pair couldn’t be in the same room as one another without starting World War Three, it was a given that they would always be there for the other’s loved ones. It was brotherhood in its finest and rawest form. 

But it was driving you mad. 

“Jake wouldn’t–” Bradley tried to explain, but you’d heard this explanation too many times by this point. So much so you could finish Rooster’s sentence for him. 

“‘Jake wouldn’t forgive you if something were to happen to me’, I know I know,” you huffed again. Your right hand came down to rest across your growing bump. Two little souls were currently using your internal system as their personal development grove. Two little Seresin babies that were as unexpected as they were blessed— or at least, to you. “But you– for as much as I appreciate everything you have and will continue to do for us Rooster– are driving me insane.” 

“Too bad,” couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled you into his side. His arm slung over your shoulders before you could even protest his actions. “You’re Jake’s girl and Jake’s not here so therefore I gotta do what I gotta do and that my dear Y/n–” Bradley paused for a second before he continued just like the small waves that lapped at your ankles. Fear threatened to overcome Rooster’s nervous system. Yet, fending off fight or flight mode, he continued. Playing the role you needed him to be: Caregiver brick wall extraordinaire. “---Is to be right here, by your side, until that idiot wakes up.” 

They say time heals most wounds. And for the majority of people that saying is pretty spot on. But for Jake Seresin, that hadn’t been the case. Jake had been in an induced coma for weeks after his near-death accident. The experienced aviator was no match for the panic attack that took him hostage mid-training exercise. His body currently lay battered, burnt and bruised in the Miramar Base Hospital in the intensive care unit. His soul remained trapped inside the mind you sometimes hated to love and loved to hate. 

And when Doctors tried to wake him from the state they’d put him into in order to heal…he didn’t wake up. 

That was back in November…It was now approaching Christmas Day and still, there was no sign of Jake waking from his coma. He’d battled and fought what seemed like everything the world could throw at him: Broken bones. Third-degree burns. A swollen brain. Organ damage. Pneumonia. You name it and Jake had battled it. 

He was a fighter. Someone who was going to fight until he had nothing left. Doctors assured you there was brain activity. A good indication of a recovery.

But when he would wake was entirely up to him…

“Some idiot huh?” you teased playfully at your boyfriend’s expense. But the reality of the situation was that with every passing day, with every complication or turn of events, you missed Jake more and more. “He’s coming out the other side of the phenomena though, which is a good sign.” 

Bradley walked by your side as the two of you debriefed about what the day would bring. First, you needed to shower and change into something that wasn’t kissed by the salty air of the beach you liked to walk along every morning. It helped you clear your head from all the noise. Since Jake’s accident, your head hadn’t been quiet. Voices echoed all day long inside your mind about what you could be doing better, more of. What you could have done differently.

Sometimes those voices would grow louder and stronger the longer you tried to avoid them. However, averting your gaze and pretending the voices didn’t exist was a harder task than first thought…especially when the voices that escaped your mind were coming from Jake’s mother. 

That self-proclaimed holier than thou mother fu—

Next, you needed to eat something. You hadn’t had much of an appetite your entire pregnancy. Bradley liked to think it was because of the additional stress Jake’s hospitalisation had caused. You knew he’d say something if you didn’t at least try to consume something of substance. 

And finally, to you, the most important part of the list of to-do’s, was to get over to Miramar Base Hospital and see the man who’d captivated your entire heart. The goal every day besides growing two human lives was to be by Jake's side. 

Even if at the end of the day the result of all this turmoil and trauma was a breakup you knew his mother was already actively praying for, you’d still be able to say you weren’t the one who walked away. 

“Come on,” Bradley gently placed his arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get outta here. I’m sure Jake’s waiting for us.”

“His mother will be there,” you said without hesitation. There was a frustrated sadness in your voice. A longing for privacy. A declaration for peace. You knew Bradley was aware of the hostile relationship between the two of you, he'd been present for a few altercations. But you also knew he was right and Jake would want you there if you could be.  And it was a could-be day. For both you and Rooster. “I was thinking maybe we could go a little later in the day, give her some time alone–”

“Y/n?” 

Yeah?” You knew what was coming, it felt like the two of you had had this same exact conversation every day for the past four weeks. 

“You’re the mother of Jake’s soon-to-be twins. He’d want you there more than Janise.” 

“It’s Janeen, Roo,” you grinned to yourself as you looked down at your growing bump with a loving hand resting over your belly button. “And Hell would probably freeze over before she realises that.” 

“I thought you weren’t a religious person?” Rooster frowned momentarily as he searched his brain for any conversational remarks he may have missed in passing that would have led him to forget your religious values. He wasn’t a God-loving man himself, but there had to be something out there, right?

“I’m not.” You had never followed a religion or its practices, but the longer the love of your life remained in a coma after sustaining life-threatening injuries, the more you were open to whatever religious being extended a helping hand first. Including but not limited to Satan. You’d sell your soul in a heartbreak to bring Jake back. “But a girl can dream, can’t she?” 

Your non-religious self-awareness was the deciding factor when it came to Janeen not accepting you. Ever since Jake had brought you home to his parents one winter break back in your college days, you knew it was a battle not worth fighting. 

You were the girl who got away. The rogue agent. The true crime writer with an appetite for knowledge and literature. Jake was the aspiring college football star turned Naval Aviator. 

Jake broke it off in the spring before he went to basic. You wanted roots and stability he at the time couldn’t offer. He was off to see the world and the world would be his oyster. You couldn’t stand in the way of that no matter how much you believed Jake Seresin was the one for you. 

You knew Janeen was over the moon with joy and delight that her precious boy had come home to his faith and exiled the woman who was leading him down a road of treacherous sin. 

Get the fuck outta here. 

It wasn’t until about a year or so ago that you and Jake reconnected after he’d come back from a mission that had him staring death right in the face and questioning what he had to look back on. 

All he saw was you in that library at college smiling across at him while explaining that Christmas was fake. Something his mother would have burnt him at the stake for believing. 

So, Jake called. And like a love-sick loser, you came running from across the country. Rhode Island was your home, but wherever Jake Seresin was in the world was where your heart would be. 

“I bet she cries herself to sleep at night more over the fact you and Hangman are having children out of wedlock than she cries over the fact he nearly died,” Bradley growled. 

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” you replied as a gust of wind picked up a beach umbrella in the distance. “I’m something straight out of the book of the damned, Bradshaw. The idea of us having a child together, let alone twins, took twenty years off her life.” 

“Jake would have loved to see her face when you told her,” Bradley chuckled. Then he cleared his throat and did his best to steer the conversation back on track. “We still have to go to the hospital.”

Reluctantly, you agreed. “Fine, but you’re taking me to get a muffin from Bells Bakery first,” you said all the while Rooster rolled his eyes. You knew he couldn’t say no. How do you say no to a pregnant lady who just wants a sweet little treat before spending hours in the same room as your comatose boyfriend and his overbearingly religious mother? You don’t. You don’t say no, you simply nod in agreement. 

*************************

Every disease has its unique course it takes in the body when left untreated. The process begins with exposure to a root cause that sends a ripple effect throughout the body. The disease then progresses, ultimately resolving in one of three possible outcomes…

You get better, you stay chronically ill, or you die. 

The weather had taken a drastic turn since you and Rooster left the beach earlier that morning. The slightly overcast and windy day brought in a nice north-easterly storm. Rain was the only thing that filled the silence as you sat waiting patiently. You caught yourself thinking of what you’d give to hear Jake’s voice before the new year. 

The carefully cultivated interior design of Bradley’s Bronco was something straight out of every single bachelor’s wet dream. This car was what you expected the inside of his soul to look like. And if you were to ever become anything like Jake’s Mother, you’d think this car would be Bradley’s version of a perfect heaven. 

Then, like a premonition, your phone rang, splitting the quiet like lightning through a dark sky. 

"Hi, Y/n,” Doctor Hughes sounded rather cheerful as you sat in the passenger seat of Bradley’s Bronco. 

“It appears that our dear friend is waking up," his voice was urgent but steady. For a moment, your mind stumbles, caught between disbelief and hope. Then you’re moving — grabbing keys, kicking on your sandals, heart pounding louder than an engine roaring to life.

“Rooster?” you whispered as you clambered out of the parked Bronco. The curb hated to see a Bradshaw coming. “I’ll be there as soon as I can!” You awkwardly spoke into your phone before hanging up without hesitation. There was no time to waste on small talk. Jake was waking up. 

The world outside blurred into streaks of light and shadow as you walked as fast as you could, each passing second stretched thin by desperation. Memories flashed — hospital visits, whispered promises, tear-soaked prayers, or whatever bullshit Jake’s mother insisted on mumbling. 

“Rooster!?” you yelled as panic, fear, and anxiety overcame your nervous system. “Bradshaw?” you yelled once more as you entered the small locally owned bakery..

“Hey, what’s wrong? I just ordered a coffee to go and your apple cinnamon muffin.,” Rooster could tell by the look on your face and how sickly you looked that something had happened. “Is the Bronco okay?” 

The fact that was the first thing his mind jumped to angered you to no end. “Yes, the fucking Bronco is fine, you idiot,” you sighed as your belly felt heavy with two Seresin children, a nervous shit, and impending vomit. “Jake’s waking up.”

“No way, who called?” Bradley kicked into fifth gear before your eyes as he ushered you out of the cafe without his coffee or your muffin. 

“Rooster, our order?” you protested as he barrelled out of the cafe with your shoulders in his hands. “Hold up!” 

“We gotta go, you wanna be there when he wakes up, don’t you?” Rooster asked, thinking the answer you’d give him would be a straight-up “yes”. There shouldn’t have been any other answer. But the longer you stood still not answering, Bradley knew something was eating away at you. “Y/n, why are you being weird about this? He’s okay, everything’s gonna be alright.” 

“What if he doesn’t want this?” your eyes welled with tears in the middle of the walkway. “What if he doesn’t want me? What if…what if he doesn’t want the ki–our kids?” 

Surgical intervention doesn’t always work when it comes to disease. Sometimes, despite best efforts, the disease wins. It takes over our cells one-by-one…until the damage can no longer be reversed. When that happens, all you can do is take the loss and move on. But when you can change the course of someone’s disease, you can change the course of their life. It’s enough to make you want to come back for more. 

“Oh, Y/n, no,” Bradley cooed as he drew you in for a much-needed hug. “Jake’s a lot of things, and he’s done a lot of stupid things, but giving you up all those years ago was his biggest mistake,” Rooster reminded you as the tears you cried stained his T-shirt. Your face was buried in his chest. A chest that had soaked up far too many of your tears these last few weeks. “I know there’s a lot of unknowns, but if there’s one thing I know for sure it’s that Jake’s never gonna let you guys go. I promise you.”

“He didn’t want the baby before he–” You couldn’t finish your sentence without breaking out into an all-out wail. Bradley held you tighter than he ever had before. He didn’t know what you hadn’t told him. And what you hadn’t told him was the whole truth…

The whole truth was that Jake’s accident had been your fault. Or so it felt like it. 

“Hey, hey, you’re good,” Rooster tried his best to soothe your soul all the while the lady who’d taken his order before kindly brought it out. He was sure to thank her silently over your shoulder as she placed the muffin in its brown paper bag and his takeaway coffee on the bench. “Whatever happened before all this, I’m sure it’s gonna work out. Jake loves you so much,” Rooster beamed as he rubbed your back. “He’s not letting you or these kiddos go.” 

**********************

As the Bronco sped down the rain-slick streets, tires hissing against the wet pavement, Bradley’s hands gripped the steering wheel as tight as possible. His knuckles were white with tension. You sat anxiously in the passenger seat, phone clenched tightly in your hands, replaying the call from Dr. Hughes in your mind over and over again like a broken Rolexes that held only one memory. 

"It appears that our dear friend is waking up,” Jensen Hughes, Jake’s primary doctor who had been with him since the first day he was brought into the hospital, had said. The words echoed in your head, filling your mind, body, and soul with equal parts hope and fear.

"We’re almost there," Bradley muttered, more to himself than to you. His jaw was set, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. His best friend was waking up from a coma he never really thought he’d come out of. He’d been looking after you and his unborn children since the accident. Jake had missed so much and nothing all at the same time. 

"He’s strong. He’s been fighting this whole time." You reached over, resting a hand on his arm. Bradley nodded in return but didn’t speak. The memories of countless nights spent at Jake’s bedside haunted you both. Each mile seemed endless, stretched by the weight of anticipation.

The hospital's glowing sign finally appeared through the rain-streaked windshield. Bradley exhaled sharply, parking the car with a jerky halt. Without another word, you both dashed toward the entrance, hearts pounding, ready to see Jake — ready to hope again. 

**********************

The elevator doors opened with a subdued ding as you and Rooster stepped into the hushed hospital hallway. The dim overhead lights cast a pale glow, reflecting off the sterile white walls. Neither of you spoke as you walked toward Jake’s room. Both too anxious to say anything that could jeopardise this significant moment in Jake’s recovery. 

As you approached the familiar door, you hesitated. Your breath hitched in your throat. Bradley gently squeezed your hand, grounding you in the moment. You felt like you were going to be sick. Your twins pressed on every vital organ they had shoved to whatever side they could to make room for themselves. Here you were, Jake Seresin’s pregnant girlfriend, about to see him awake for the first time in what felt like a decade. Rounding the final corner, you saw the familiar door, slightly ajar, light spilling into the hallway. For a moment, neither of you moved, overwhelmed by hope and fear intertwined.

"We’re here," Bradley whispered, his voice steady though his eyes betrayed the weight of his worry.

As you pushed the door open, you were met with the soft beeping of the heart monitor and the steady whoosh of the ventilator. Jake lay still, his face pale but peaceful, lost in the depths of his coma. His mind was a world away, carried off into the subconscious. His body was the only remaining evidence to suggest he was still with you. 

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill as you stepped closer. Why were you expecting him to be awake and alert? Wishing thinking once again overcomplicated your usually realistic outlook on how things worked in this world. Perhaps it had been the way Doctor Hughes spoke to you on the phone. Or maybe it was the pregnancy hormones that allowed for more hopeful endings. Either way, neither explanation added up to the expectation you had set. 

"Hey, Jake... it’s us," you whispered, voice trembling. Bradley pulled a chair close and ushered you to sit beside the bed. 

"We’re not going anywhere," he said firmly. "You hear me? We’re right here." Resting a hand on Jake’s forearm, Rooster was quick to let his wingman know he was there. The room remained silent except for the rhythmic beeping, but neither of you moved, holding onto hope with every passing second. 

“We heard what you’ve been up to while we’ve been gone, baby,” you cooed softly as you stroked Jake’s cheek gently, taking in the sight of his peacefully unaware self. “And we don’t plan on going anywhere until we get to see those beautiful eyes of yours.” 

“What’s going on here?” The familiar voice made your heart sink into your stomach as you tried to get as comfortable as you could in the world’s most uncomfortable hospital chair. Janeen stood in the doorway with a fresh coffee from the cafe downstairs in her aging hand. Her nails, manicured to perfection, clutched around the paper cup so much so that you swore the scolding hot liquid would burst through the weakened structure. “Did something happen? Why the urgency to not go anywhere?” 

“Did–” you paused for a second as you allowed yourself to sink a little further into your chair with a protective hand strewn across your ever-growing baby bump. “Did anyone call you?” 

“Why would anyone call me when I’m already here, silly girl.” Janeen scoffed as she walked further into Jake’s room. A room that had been his for weeks. A room that your mother had helped you decorate with Christmas lights and decorations as the season approached with every passing day. A bleak, barren hospital room was no place for a soul full of such joy and fun and high-octane energy. Jake deserved more than white walls and sterile floors. 

“Right, my bad for asking,” you sighed as Rooster rolled his eyes discreetly and tried to hide his disdain for his best friend’s mother. A mother he knew Jake wasn’t so fond of either. Especially when it came to you. 

“Jane!” Rooster beamed as he broke the tension. “Long time no see. How long has it been?” Bradley smiled as he shot you a cheeky look of mischief. This was who Rooster was at his very core. A shit-stirring moustache-having gold star kid. The best there was. He’d been a rock for you during this whole ordeal. There had never been a moment these past few months where you hadn’t been able to cry on Rooster’s shoulder or vent to him in full confidence that everything you said would stay with him and only him. 

“I saw you yesterday, son,” Janeen replied sternly, not a single hint of amusement in her tone. Yet, Rooster continued with his antics. He knew well enough by now to know if he kept going, Janeen would cut you some slack. Rooster had been an on-and-off fixture in the Seresin household for years. Ever since Jake and Bradley met in the academy. And boy did Janeen Seresin have a soft spot for the man who grew up without parents or any sort of guiding light. She saw real potential in the Bradshaw kid. If he just applied himself to God, he could be one of his finest soldiers. 

“Really? I’d never forget seeing you! Are you sure it was yesterday? I heard dementia is kinda contagious in these sorts of environments,” Bradley grinned as he pulled the shorter, aging woman with that signature older mother smell into him for a hug. He was sure to send you a wink over her head. 

You had to stuff the boisterous laugh that threatened to spill from your mouth right back down into the depths of your stomach before World War Three could erupt right here in Jake’s hospital room. To be perfectly honest though, you wouldn’t be opposed to that diagnosis. Perhaps then you’d have somewhat of a chance at developing some sort of relationship with the grandmother of your children. Even if each and every day brought a new personality and memory bank. Oh, a girl could dream. 

“Y/n, be a dear and get me a chair will you?” If you weren’t already sitting down, you would have fallen over with shock. 

“Oh, I can do that,” Bradley quickly jumped into action, not wanting you to get up. “I’ll go get you one, I’ll be right back.” He grinned at Janeen before sending you a worrying look of concern. A look that didn’t necessarily look the best on him. “Don’t–just don’t kill each other while I’m gone, alright?” 

“Scouts honour,” you held your hand up as if you were swearing on the bible. Something you’d never actually do. But as Janeen looked over at where you were sitting, she nodded in agreement. 

“Right, I’ll be right back,” Bradley groaned hesitantly as he left the room. Leaving an unconscious and comatose Jake to fend for himself. “Sorry pal, she’s your mother,” he mumbled to himself as he shook his head and continued out of sight. The second Rooster was gone…it was on for young and old. 

“I’ve organised a paternity test for when you have the babies–” Janeen informed you like it wasn’t the worst insult you’d ever heard.  

“Excuse me?” you replied rather harshly as you sat up in your chair. In what world would these not be Jake’s children? How was this happening right now? How was she doing this when Jake was slowly waking up from his endless sleep? 

“You heard me,” Jeneen smirked. “I need to protect my son,” For a woman who preached about being God’s seeing eye, she really was doing the devil’s work. 

“Your son should have listened in sex-ed a little more.” You knew even the mention of sex would have Janeen’s skin crawling. Sex out of wedlock! How dare you, how would you ever be cleansed of your sins? “Are you being serious right now Janeen?” 

“I almost lost him once!” Jake’s mother raised her voice as she stepped closer to his bedside, taking in the sight of her grown, adult child. “I’m not losing him again and certainly not to some wannabe writer who wants to live off my son’s achievements.” 

“Almost doesn’t matter because almost never happened,” you made sure to say before you went on to unleash a declaration of war against your not-so-mother-in-law. “But I can guarantee if you try and destroy this family before it has a chance to grow, so help whatever God you believe in bitch…I’ll burn your entire life to the ground and smile when I watch the millions of dollars you put into that ranch burn too.”  

“You vindictive girl.” Janeen had nothing else to say from the other side of Jake’s hospital bed. 

“Don’t threaten my family and I won’t threaten yours.” It was the only warning you were ever going to give. 

“He’s my son!” Janeen shouted as Bradley made his wake back down the hall with a chair in hand. 

“And he’s my hu–” 

You couldn’t finish your sentence. With so many hormones and emotions coursing through your veins, you slipped. Jake wasn’t your husband. He wasn’t your fiance. He was your boyfriend. And for as much as you wanted to marry the man lying in that hospital bed after nearly losing his life, you knew that question was far from being asked. If it were ever to be asked. Jake Seresin had grown up watching his parents hate each other…he’d made it clear marriage was something he wasn’t interested in. Why would he be when he spent his childhood listening to his mother beg his father to fix some stupid faucet that never did get fixed? 

Why would Jake ever be interested in marriage when he could remember the intervention his grandfather gave his dad at their wedding, something about it wasn’t too late to back out. Hell, why would Jake be interested in marriage when he watched his father fall out of love so hard with his mother that she never really clued him in on her battle with breast cancer? Jake grew up under the guidance of God and his almighty word…

But the way his father had treated his mother throughout Jake’s life had truly left a sour taste in his mouth. And if Jake, through biological design, was anything like his dad…he was never going to put himself in a position where he could emulate any sort of resemblance to his father. 

Trauma am I right? (He’d told you so much about his childhood.) 

“Honey, you’re nothing more than an incubator,” Janeen hissed with a wicked smirk plastered across her face. “He’s my son, and my son knows better than to allow himself to stoop as low as ending up with someone like you.” 

“I thought I told you two not to kill each other?” Rooster tried to intervene as he placed the chair down beside where Janeen stood. He’s never seen you look so worked up. So angry. So hurt. 

“Janeen.” You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes. “When I have these children, Jake’s children, if I have it my way you will never see them. You will never get to know them do you hear me? No God or religion or wackadoodle fucking beliefs you have will ever help you have a relationship with my children because if you can’t look me in the fucking eye and see what your son sees in me then I’m not entertaining any sort of relationship with you.” 

“If they’re really my grandbabies then you can’t keep them from seeing their family–” 

“She’s their mother, Jane, I don’t think you have much say in the matter,” Rooster sided with you as politely as he could. He wasn’t going to be the one to point out that Jake's fingers were twitching either. 

“Better start praying really hard Janeen,” you chuckled, knowing that although you didn’t win this battle, you’d win the war. “Maybe Rooster will bring back a pillow for your knees,” you teased, a little out of line but it was so worth the look of horror on her face. “You’ll be on them for a hell of a long time.” 

**********************

The roar of twin afterburners pierced the sky as Jake pushed his F-18 Super Hornet through a steep climb. The clear blue expanse stretched endlessly above, the ground a distant memory. This was his element—a place where skill and instinct defined survival. Still, the only thing on his mind when he should have been focusing on controlling a multimillion-dollar piece of military equipment was you. You were pregnant. Jake was going to be a father. 

He should have listened to you when you said the two of you could talk about it after he got home from work. He never should have pressed you for more information. But Jake had and the second the words came out of your mouth, he heard nothing else after the words “I’m pregnant Jake–we’re gonna have a baby.” 

He wasn’t ready to be a dad. A father. Being a dad was the last thing Jake thought he should ever be. He wasn’t raised to procreate. He shouldn’t be responsible for another human being. If Jake was even an ounce like his own father, that kid, that poor fetus growing inside you as he raced through the sky, was about to have one hell of a childhood. It wasn’t even just having a baby that terrified him. How was Jake meant to teach this kid right from wrong when he was still learning that himself? 

“What if I told you that I wasn’t sure if I wanted kids, but I want you?” Jake knew the second that the question left his lips…that it hadn’t come out the way it should have. But the reality was he had said it, and the look in your hopeful eyes quickly shattered and was replaced with a reluctance to continue with the conversation. 

Self-doubt radiated off Jake like his life force was fading. Today's training was a high-intensity combat simulation over the rugged terrain of Redstone Valley. Jake and Rooster were executing advanced dogfighting maneuvers against an elite training squadron. Every turn, every roll, every burst of speed was a calculated dance of power and precision.

"Bandit on your six!" Bradshaw’s urgent voice crackled through Jake's headset. 

His wingman had questioned him earlier in the day about what had him so uptight. Jake hadn’t been himself today, he knew that much for sure. But that was because he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the very fact you were pregnant with his child. A child created out of love and endless passion. But that wasn’t enough to make Jake want to be a father after being so sure for so many of his adult years that he wasn’t supposed to be a father. “Hangman! Get your arse into gear man!” 

Jake yanked the stick hard left, pulling into a sharp barrel roll. The G-forces slammed him into his seat as he broke away, narrowly avoiding the pursuing jet's simulated missile lock. His pulse raced, his adrenaline surged as his heart beat against his cheat so hard he swore he was having a heart attack… 

Suddenly, the cockpit warning system blared—a mechanical shriek of impending doom. "ENGINE FAILURE—LEFT ENGINE!" flashed across the Heads-Up Display.

"Mayday, mayday, this is Viper One, experiencing critical engine failure. Attempting emergency procedures," Jake radioed, his voice steady despite the rising tension. The heart attack he swore he was having was a full-blown panic attack. Jake couldn’t catch his breath long enough to maintain focus. “Fuck, Rooster! I’m going down! Mayday–mayday!” Children’s laughter filled the cockpit as Jake spiralled out of control. 

“JAKE! EJECT EJECT EJECT!” Bradley shouted frantically through the coms. He watched on in pure horror as one of the best aviators he knew plummeted to earth without much control. “HANGMAN EJECT!” 

“Tell Y/n I love her–” was the last communication that Bradley received before Jake frantically gave up his battle with the controls to pull his chute. 

Much like Rooster’s late father, Jake’s emergency exit hadn’t gone according to plan. The roar of the F-18's engines screamed in Jake's ears as the warning lights flashed across the cockpit. Smoke billowed from the right engine, as his aircraft trembled violently. 

As Jake pulled his emergency chute, he was propelled into the sky as his F-18 was engulfed in flames so hot the heat melted his uniform into his skin. If he’d waited even one second more he would have been a goner. The emergency exit did little to stop the dramatic fall from grace Jake was experiencing. He plummeted unconscious from the sky towards the burning pile of rubble that was, just a few seconds ago, his Super Hornet. 

The ground felt like solid concrete as Jake slammed into the side of the valley, bones shattered on impact as Rooster watched on in utter agony. His helmet did little to cushion the impact, although that was its intended purpose. Emergency services had already been sent out to Jake’s last known location… but there was little that could be done for Jake as he lay in a twisted pile of his emergency parachute. Blood stained his flight suit as his body began to shut down.

He was dying, but the laughter of children filled the silence like sunlight filtering through leaves—light, spontaneous, and full of love. 

**********************

Tags: @blindedbythelightt @starset21 @tayl0rhuynh @marvelogic @itsmytimetoodream

@maverick-wingman @kodzukenmaaa @eternalsams @seitmai @nota-professional l

@jessicab1991 @hardballoonlove @senawashere @withahappyrefrain @dizzybee03 @maisie-rebloging-blog

@a-reader-and-a-writer @sunlightmurdock @shelbycillian @memoriesat30 @accioprocrastination

@the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @athenabarnes @eternallyvenus @emma8895eb @kmc1989 @avengersgirllorianna

[holidayinhell]

CWs: threats of noncon, gunplay

“Put your hands up, you piece of shit.”

“Now Whumpee--”

“Quiet.” Whumpee snapped. “I’m not fucking around.” 

Whumper took a step back, breaking his usual pattern of intimidation. He raised a brow inquisitively, his lips twitching to form an amused grin.

“Put your fucking hands up.” Whumpee repeated forcefully.

“Riiight…”

“Do it.” His grip tightened around the handle of the gun. “I'm not afraid to shoot you.”

“Really. You’re gonna kill me, Whumpee-boy?” The tall man half-chuckled. “That’ll be the day.”

The metallic click of the revolver’s hammer echoed in response.

Point taken.

“Ugh. You’re no fun.” Reluctantly, Whumper heeded Whumpee’s warning, sighing as he removed his hands from his oversized hoodie pocket, slowly lifting them above his head. For the first time during Whumpee’s captivity, his cruel smirk faltered.

“Give a coward a gun and suddenly they think they’re invincible.” The tall man grumbled under his breath. There was no way Whumpee would actually shoot him. He didn’t have the balls.

“Just shut up.”

“Ooh, scary.” Whumper taunted. He reeled his head back and spat in Whumpee’s direction, the wet splat landing only inches from the other's bare feet. 

Whumpee’s eyes flicked up to meet Whumper’s, blazing furiously.

He inched closer to Whumper with careful, measured steps, keeping the barrel of the gun leveled steadily at the monster's chest. 

“Woah woah woah. Easy tiger.” Whumper said playfully. He maintained the intense eye contact as he slowly lowered his hands back to his sides, palms facing out in a mock display of submission. 

“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” He chuckled, tucking his hands back into the oversized hoodie pocket.

“This isn’t a joke.” Whumpee warned. “Put your fucking hands up, or I’ll make you.” 

“Naw.” The tall man said, drinking in Whumpee’s increasing agitation. His sadistic eyes glinted with challenge. “Guess you’ll have to make me.”

“I’ll end you right now. I mean it. Nothing would make me happier than watching you bleed out.” Whumpee clenched his jaw. “Killing you would be the easy route, though. Death is too good for you. It's not even a fraction of what you deserve. So for the last goddamn time, fucking listen to me.”

“Fucking listen to me,” Whumper repeated sarcastically, voice dripping with contempt. “You really know how to demand respect, Whumpee. I’m confused, are you gonna shoot me, or are ya gonna torture me? 'Cuz you’ve got me absolutely shitting my pants over here.”

Whumpee felt a surge of adrenaline, the weight of the confrontation pressing down on him as he struggled to maintain his composure.

“How ‘bout this, you trigger-happy little cunt,” Whumper said wickedly. “Give me the gun now, and I won’t fuck you with it later.”

The threat made Whumpee’s blood boil. 

That’s it. Time for Whumper to die. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Whumpee took a step forward and planted the muzzle of the gun against Whumper’s temple. He squeezed the trigger. 

The hammer flicked forward, eliciting an empty click.

The gun didn’t fire.

Time froze. 

The dull sound echoed in the silence. 

Whumpee couldn’t hear anything other than his heart thundering in his chest. 

His wide eyes darted down to the revolver, disbelief written across his face. Panic flooded in.

A wide grin spread across Whumper’s chin as he removed a hand from his pocket. Six golden bullets rolled in the palm of his hand, glinting in the light. Whumper pinched one between his fingers, turning it over as he marveled at it.

“Surprised?”

With a flick of his wrist, he released the remaining five bullets from his palm. They cascaded to the concrete floor with five distinct clangs.

“If you’re gonna shoot someone, you might want to make sure the fucking gun is loaded.”

Whumpee froze in disbelief.

How could he have been so stupid?

He didn’t react when Whumper lunged at him, twisting the gun from his sweaty hands. He didn’t fight back when the cold metal smacked against his temple, heavy and sharp, sending him hurtling into the concrete, cracking his skull into the ground.

Everything went black. A trickle of blood flowed down his cheek.

Whumper towered over him, a victorious grin plastered across his face.

"I enjoyed your game, Whumpee. Let's play another."

He loaded the single bullet into the revolver, clicking the cylinder closed.

“You ever play Russian Roulette?”

((more Whump oneshots))

[serickswrites]

Grab the Little One

Warnings: gun, gunshot, gunshot wound, blood, begging, gag, restraints, unconsciousness

Team Leader had to get Smallest Teammate to a safe place before they could confront Whumper and their goons. Whumper wanted Smallest Teammate and Team Leader couldn't let Whumper get them. They would protect Smallest Teammate at all cost.

They hadn't accounted for Whumper's team having night vision goggles. The first bullet ripped through their left shoulder while the other lodged itself in their gut. They didn't even have the breath to scream as they collapsed to the ground. They barely felt their blood beginning to pool around them.

Team Leader could hear Smallest Teammate begging them to get up. Begging them to breathe. Begging them to move. And begging Whumper's goons to leave them alone.

"Grab the little one," a voice said coldly.

"And the other?"

Team Leader knew they were the other. Knew they were the other and that they should be afraid. But all they cared about was Smallest Teammate. If their death saved Smallest Teammate, they would happily give their life.

"We don't need the other. You know what to do."

"Please! Please, don't hurt them! Please!" Smallest Teammate begged.

"Shut that one up first."

"Stop! STOP! I SAID ST--" Smallest Teammate's words were cut off suddenly. Team Leader knew that someone must have gagged Smallest Teammate from their angry breaths. Knew that Smallest Teammate had to be bound and gagged from the sounds of a struggle.

They had to get up. They had to help Smallest Teammate. They had to get Smallest Teammate out of there. With an agonizing cry, Team Leader tried to roll to their side, their world whiting out with pain. They blinked, trying to clear their vision, trying to fight from being dragged into oblivion.

Smallest Teammate's face was pinched with worry as they struggled between two people. Their arms were bound behind their back and a rough gag was stuffed in their mouth. But still they struggled. Team Leader had to get up.

The next time they tried to move, their world went completely white. They could not breathe through this pain. They could not fight through this pain. And as oblivion claimed them, they could only hope that the rest of the team would arrive in time to save Smallest Teammate. That was all that mattered.

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

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

@pepeniascat @acer-whumpstuff @artisticdemon

[just-whump-and-suffering]

Out There Ep 05

[whumperofworlds]

Love when a Whumper has a gun, and when Whumpee/Caretaker questions if it's real, Whumper shoots the actual gun beside the Whumpee/Caretaker or shoots at the sky to show no, this is a real gun, I'm serious so you better fucking listen to my demands.

[whumpbees]

Whumpees getting their head tilted up by a weapon! A sword, or knife, or gun.. right below the chin. Listen to their breath hitch as they make eye contact

[lovelizards]

It all happened so fast.

One second Sebastian, Sam, and Abigail were all huddled around the table in his room, rolling up new characters for their game of Solarion Chronicles, and the next second his bedroom door had been thrown open by a stranger with slicked back hair and grey gloves.

"H - hey!" Sebastian jumped up, more angry than frightened, "What the hell? Who - who are -?"

"Just a friendly government agent. I'm looking for the boy called Sebastian." The stranger said, his tone sharp as a knife, and his cold eyes flicking between him and Sam.

"Actually, I'm Sebastian," Abigail said, leaning on Sebastian's shoulder with a sarcastic frown.

"I thought it was my turn to be Sebastian!" Sam insisted, as both he and Abigail crowded close around him. Sebastian would have been grateful, if he hadn't noticed the very real-looking gun in the stranger's hand.

"Cute," the man levelled his gun at the three of them.

Abigail froze, her hand gripping his sleeve. Sam let out a shocked breath, then raised a slow, protective arm in front of the two of them.

"Do...do you have a warrant?" Sebastian asked, his nerves making the words feel heavy and strange in his mouth. But, the man looked like some kind of government suit. He had an ID card hanging around his neck, and fancy shoes.

"Yeah!" Sam insisted, "This is messed up! You can't just walk into someone's house and threaten them at gun-point!"

But the man didn't respond.

He crossed the room in a few steps, and grabbed hold of Sebastian's arm. The guy was strong, stronger than he looked, and a manic sort of fear overcame Sebastian in that moment. He yelled, and fought, wrestling with the hand holding him.

Sam jumped on the guy, shouting something about calling the cops - though all of them knew that there were no cops local to the valley.

But Sam was barely an annoyance to the guy, and for one horrific second Sebastian thought was going to shoot at Sam.

Instead, he raised the gun up and cracked him in the head with the butt of the gun. The force of it made Sam's eyes roll to the back of his head, and sent him to the floor.

"Sam!" Abigail rushed over to him as Sebastian was getting dragged away, "You prick! What the fuck is your problem?!"

Again, nothing from the government agent.

He just dragged Sebastian bodily up the stairs, past his sobbing mom and a stony-faced Demetrius, and out into the cold evening in his socks.

Sebastian dug his feet into the dirt, he tried to trip the guy, he aimed punches and kicks anywhere he could, until eventually he got some kind of reaction.

The man let go of his arm for just a second, and then nailed him in the eye with a punch that nearly knocked him on his ass. The pain burst through his head, it burned and throbbed, and it took him a second to regain his balance.

"Quit making this hard, kid," the government agent instructed, "You're not the one I'm after, so - hey!

Sebastian didn't wait for him to finish, he bolted.

But he only made it a few rushed steps before the blast of a gunshot rang his head, and a searing pain ripped through his shoulder.

He stopped, tense, trembling, the fear of being faced with a real ass gun, something that could kill him in an instant - rather than something only from video games - slowly dawning on him.

The man's heavy footsteps came up behind him, and a strong hand turned him around; "You get it now? I don't want to hurt you, but I will. This'll be easier for you if you just comply. Now come on."

He grabbed the front of Sebastian's hoodie, and started pulling him stumbling along, up past the train tracks, towards the summit of the mountain.

Sebastian wasn't sure how much time had passed as he stood there, trembling from the cold and from the fear, near the sharp drop of the summit. Eventually, though, he heard running footsteps coming up the stairs and started.

The man adjusted his grip on Sebastian's hoodie, his leather gloves squeaking quietly, as the two of them watched Eve come sprinting into the summit clearing.

Wait, Eve?

Sebastian blinked.

"Eve?" He asked.

"Sebastian!" Eve cried. She was panting heavily, and clutching a crumpled piece of paper in her hands.

"Eve -Agh -!"

The government agent yanked on his hoodie, and then shoved him out further towards the stretch of open sky. His sock feet tried and failed to grip the loose dirt under him.

"We've been waiting for you, 3V3..."

Sebastian tried to catch his panicked breath. All he could do was grab hold of the man's arm for dear life, and try to stop his heart from beating right out of his chest.

"Eve!" He called, his voice breaking, "Be careful! This guy is dangerous!"

Eve's shoulders were raised, her hands hung at her sides but they were tensed into fists, the way they always were when she was trying to pretend she was fine.

"Let him go," she said, her voice struggling to stay level. She threw the paper to the ground, a letter of warning with a map to the summit, "You want me, you've got me. So let him go."

"How loyal, 3V3. And here I thought you were just toying with the kid, playing at being a human. You're full of surprises."

The man pulled a pair of expensive looking handcuffs from his pocket - awkwardly, trying to manage the gun at the same time. The cuffs were dull grey, and looked electronic, like something straight out of a sci-fi movie.

He tossed them into the dirt at Eve's feet, but said nothing else.

Eve stared down at them for only a second.

"E - Eve, wait - don't! Don't - " Sebastian tried to call, but he faltered and his teeth clicked together sharply as the gun was trained on him again.

"It's okay, Sebastian," Eve said, let out a long, trembling breath.

She picked the handcuffs up, and calmly secured them around her own wrists. The little LED lights lit up once they were on, and an electronic beep echoed out over the quiet of the summit.

"No...no, Eve..."

Eve looked up at the agent with a teary glare.

"Now let him go."

"Hah!" The agent gave one sharp tug on the front of Sebastian's hoodie, and then threw him forward onto the ground. He went sprawling, his legs like jelly, and landed hard on his hands and knees.

"Give me five minutes with him," Eve said, her voice low and kind of scary, serious in a way Sebastian had never heard her be before.

Even the agent faltered, then huffed a sigh.

"Two minutes."

Eve rushed over to Sebastian, dropping down onto her knees and reaching her cuffed hands out towards him. Sebastian had already pulled himself up, he held her arms, looking down at the handcuffs, trying to remove them.

"Eve - Eve, wait - we can figure this out -!"

"It's okay, Sebastian - listen to me -"

" - let - let me try to, just hold on -"

" - Sebastian. Sebastian!"

Eve stilled his frantic hands, clasping them in her own.

"I can't just let him take you..." Sebastian groaned, lowering his head so she couldn't see the infuriating shine of tears in his eyes.

Eve pulled him into a tight hug, her face buried in his hair, and her voice a broken whisper in his ear.

"Go to Rasmodius. The wizard - go find him in Cindersnap. Tell him what happened - tell him to contact Mr. Qi -"

"W - wait - wh - who? Eve, w -"

"Time's up." The agent called, his footsteps a threatening sound as he approached.

"Do what I said, Sebastian - it'll be okay - agh!"

Eve was hauled up by her wrists, and even though she didn't try to fight or get away, the agent handled her roughly. Sebastian felt the fire of fury in his gut, but shock and sorrow were too strong to overcome.

"Please just let her go!" He shouted, hating how much like a little kid he sounded and scrambling up to his feet as the agent started dragging Eve away.

"Stay right there, kid."

Sebastian stared down the barrel of the agent's gun, desperate to chase after them, but frozen in his spot.

"It's okay - it's okay Sebastian!" Eve kept saying, and then, "Take - take care of Reggie for me! And - and the farm animals! Please -!"

Sebastian opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything else, the agent pressed a finger to his ear, muttered something, and both he and Eve flickered out of sight - leaving him alone on the summit, with strange instructions to follow, and a terrible ache in his chest.

[literarystarfish]

Caretaker did this? Whumpee thought as they looked up into the gleaming, sadistic, thrilled eyes of the person about to pull the trigger.

“They were sick of you.” Whumper grinned, kneeling in closer to Whumpee. His gun still poking roughly into their temple. “They told me where you would be— I’m pretty sure their exact words were ‘my pathetic, broken pup’— and to finally put it out of its misery. I agreed, of course.” Whumper stood again, positioning the barrel to push into their forehead. “I should really take you back since you escaped me— show you what you missed. But now… I really do hate to see a such a sad little pup suffer like this. So pathetic,” Whumper tsked.

Come along, pup. Let’s get you cleaned up.

You’re alright, pup. Its just a nightmare.

You’ll be okay, pup.

No one else besides Caretaker has ever called them ‘pup’ before. They were sure Caretaker never called them that nickname in front of anyone else either. It was only something they called them when they were being extra gentle with them. When their traumas were getting too heavy again. Whumpee wasn’t even sure anyone else knew Caretaker called them ‘pup’.

Whumpee’s eyes widened at what that must mean. The tears that had already been pooling at their lash-line easily spilled over.

A dark chuckle brought them back to the present. They looked back up to Whumper.

“Ahhh, see? You’re understanding now, pup. You were too much for them. Too broken. And if even Caretaker doesn’t want you anymore, then why would I?”

Whumpee watched Whumper’s grip tighten around the trigger.

“You should have listened to me, Whumpee. No one wants you. Not even Caretaker.”

“Goodbye, pup.”

[hurtmyfavsthanks]

Febuwhump day 3: "Bite down on this,"

Content warning: gunshot wound, rough caretaking

“Damnit, why the hell would you do that?!”

“I didn’t–I–,” Hero only stuttered in response, barely understandable. They were practically limp at Villain’s side, arm draped over Villain’s shoulder as they were dragged through the wilderness surrounding Supervillain’s forest.

Hero’s breath was coming out in panicked, choked wheezes, eyes wide and distant. Each frantic beat sent another gush of blood down their body, dripping from Hero’s side to fill the space between Hero’s and Villain’s bodies. Villain could feel the blood beginning to drip down their leg.

“I don’t need you to take a damn bullet for me! Not when we have no idea what Supervillain is capable of!” Villain hissed, voice tight.

“I don’t know why this is happening–!” Hero squeaked, a half scream. Their usual confidence was shattered, replaced with a genuine, raw fear that put Villain’s teeth on edge.

Villain didn’t know why it was happening either. Hero had taken far, far worse than a bullet without so much as bruising. A bullet should’ve been nothing to them. That fact was the only reason Villain had agreed to their teamup to defeat Supervillain. Hero was there to act like their shield, a big, dumb wall of muscle between Supervillain’s men and Villain.

So when Hero, that ever smug grin plastered onto their face, had swooped in between Villain and the barrel of Supvervillain’s gun, Villain’s only concern was the self-satisfied comments they would have to endure for allowing Hero to save their life.

They hadn’t expected shock to replace Hero’s grin. They hadn’t expected Hero to drop to the ground like a rock at their feet, eyes wide as red spread across their torso. They hadn’t expected a gleeful cackle from Supervillain, nor that the next sound to come out of Hero would be a scream.

And now they were running, dragging Hero’s half-limp body through the forest, Supervillain’s henchmen on their tails. They would die out here, hunted like simple prey animals, if something didn’t change soon.

“We’re stopping here,” Villain abruptly spoke, stopping when they found a small clearing. They moved over towards a fallen tree and, ignoring Hero’s cries of protest, rearranged their body to rest in a sitting position.

Hero’s body shook with effort as they tried to sit down. Their strength failed them halfway through, knees buckling and nearly sending them crumbling roughly to the ground. When they were finally positioned against the tree, Hero’s hands instantly moved to cover their injury.

Villain kneeled down and batted the hands away. Hero’s bloodied fingers still hovered anxiously near their torso.

It looked like a normal bullet wound, a fact that itself put Villain’s nerves on edge. Blood poured insistently from it, the red stain spreading with each second. Hero wouldn’t survive losing blood at that rate for long.

Villain leaned closer, until their eyes caught a flash of light. In the darkness of the forest, Villain could see something flashing a dull, unnatural green inside the wound. Whatever Supervillain had created to attack Hero with, it was still inside.

“I’m going to take the bullet out. Hold still.”

“W-what?! No-nononono I don’t–,” Panic instantly gripped Hero, their already paleing face nearly turning sheet white. They attempted to stumble to their feet, only to crumple back down with a choked gasp. “I’ve taken worse than this! Just–don’t touch it!”

“You have taken worse. I’ve personally thrown worse at you, and I’ve never once seen you bleed,” Villain pulled away for a moment, digging through their toolbelt to find anything they could use. “Something is wrong. Whatever bullet Supervillain made, it’s nullifying your powers. We have to remove it; you’ll either bleed out or be killed by Supervillain’s forces otherwise.”

“No!” Desperation laced the shout, so raw that Villain couldn’t help but stare at Hero in shock. Hero’s eyes were wild with terror as they squeezed their body against the tree, as if they could sink into the wood and hide away.

“I–I’ve never had to do anything like this! Nothing–,” tears were flowing unbidden now, leaving Hero to gasp pitifully. “Nothing’s ever hurt me! It’s gonna hurt, oh god it’s gonna hurt…I can’t do it!”

For a moment, Villain only stared, taken aback at hearing Hero, brave and obnoxious Hero, blubbering like a civilian.

The cruel part of their nature wanted to laugh. Here was their brave nemesis, someone who flew into danger without a second thought, who had faced countless enemies without fear, sniveling like a child at the doctor’s office. It was laughable, that Hero would be so terrified by something as simple as pain.

But the true terror, so foreign on Hero’s features, killed any humor Villain could feel at the situation.

It was very possible that Hero was right, that they’d truly never experienced something so natural as pain. When would they have, when even deadly force did nothing but inconvenience them? If a building falling on them couldn’t cause a bruise, what chance did everyday life have of harming them?

Hero had spent years, perhaps their entire lives, flying above the woes of mankind, immune to the pain they fought to protect others from. They’d simply never been hurt. And now their first taste of that so natural of hardships came in the form of a bullet lodged in their side.

For a brief moment Villain envied their usual immunity. For a much longer moment, they pitied Hero for their ignorance.

But they didn’t have time for pity.

“Please!” Hero sobbed, “Please, just leave it! It hurts, it’ll hurt–,”

“Look at me,” With rough hands, Villain grabbed Hero’s chin, silencing their pleas. They forced Hero’s tearful gaze forward. Terrified, shining eyes meeting Villain’s own determined glare.

“Yes, it will hurt. It’s going to hurt like hell, and you’re going to act like the damn hero you claim to be and take it. Do you understand me?” Villain didn’t break their stare for a moment. “I am not letting you die here. Supervillain doesn’t deserve the privilege of ending you. It is going to hurt, and you are going to endure it and save both our asses. Alright?”

For a long moment, Villain thought Hero would continue to fight them. They were still trembling, jaw shaking with muffled sobs, tears dripping onto Villain’s hand. Their whimpers were the only sound in the clearing.

But then something shifted in their eyes. It was not their usual strength or determination, it wasn’t bravery. It was something tearful and weak, but so trusting that it nearly knocked Villain off their feet.

So faintly that Villain almost mistook it for a tremor, Hero nodded. Villain nodded back.

They made quick work of preparing themselves. They turned to grab a handful of their cape, quickly tearing several strips to act as bandages. They scanned the forest floor and, after a moment of searching, found what they were looking for.

They brushed the dirt from a nearby stick, and presented it to Hero.

“Here, bite down on this. You’ll need it.”

Hero didn’t reach to grab the offered gag. Arms still pinned to their torso, Hero opened their mouth, leaning forward only slightly. Not unkindly, Villain placed the wood between their teeth. Hero bit down.

Gently, Villain moved Hero's body to the forest floor, laying them flat to expose their wound. Hero whined, low and pained, but their eyes never left Villain.

Villain returned to their toolbelt. After a moment of digging in their toolbelt, they found what they were looking for. A pair of long, thin tweezers, usually used for handling delicate wires, was held in their fingers. It would have to do.

Villain pulled themselves closer, trapping Hero’s legs with their own so they could sit over them, giving themselves full access to the injury. “Now, I need you to let me see your hands.”

Hesitantly, Hero’s hands moved instead to rest against Villain’s knees. They squeezed, grip tight.

Villain reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Hero’s face.

And then they got to work.

[just-whump-and-suffering]

Okura Ep 10

[nade2308]

@whumpgifathon | Day 22: A Knock to the Head

Headache | Knocked Out | Bloody face

"CSI: Miami", season 4, episode 8 "Nailed", Ryan Wolfe

@thethistlegirl

[ghost-whump]

Roulette

CW: guns, russian roulette-type game, kidnapping (implied), (let me know if I missed anything!)

Shink.

Into the chamber.

Whirrr.

Spinning around.

…Click.

Into place.

“How many rounds do you think it’ll take?” Whumper smiles, “Till you die, that is. You’ll become concussed rather quickly.”

Whumpee kept their head down. They watched Whumper load each blank in one by one, torturously gentle with each cartridge. “I don’t— I don’t know.”

“Maybe just the first one, if I fire too close. Depending on the distance, it could be a few shots before you even pass out.” Whumper spun the chamber again, absentmindedly fiddling with the revolvers hammer. They spoke casually, as if discussing the weather.

Perched on the table with their legs crossed, Whumper picked up another box of bullets, flipping it over to read the back. “Blanks are really interesting bullets, you know? A lot of people think they’re harmless because they’re not real bullets, but no one knows how dangerous they actually are!”

Whumpee trembled, their handcuffs making a horrible rattling sound from behind their back.

“Sorry, I totally got off track! Anyway, you’ll go deaf nearly immediately,” Whumper continued, putting the box back down, “I wouldn’t expect your hearing to heal. For argument’s sake, obviously. You won’t have the chance, after all.”

They stood, casually stretching their arms above their head. The gun was tossed carelessly from hand to hand, then positioned steadily — point blank at Whumpee’s temple.

Pulling the hammer back, “So, I’m guessing three shots — how about you?”

General Tag: @morning-star-whump

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 16. Rescue

Prev - Masterlist

Content: giant/tiny, cages, pet trope, power dynamic, home invasion, guns, death threat, fear of heights, being mocked

Pov: Soap Scrub

Poll Winner: Pet liberation rescue

Note: The last chapter ended up being over 7000 words so I decided to split it into two parts so there will be another chapter after this one :)

Special thanks to @alittlewhump for helping me edit <3 thank you

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT!

—

The weeks blur together with no chances to escape. You’ve almost stopped trying. Ashley doesn’t leave any cracks or openings to even think about slipping past her. You’ve stopped looking for them, too tired to keep up with being constantly alert. 

The days are mostly the same. Ashley spends a lot of her time at work, and when she gets home she usually coddles Hamster and leaves you alone. Thankfully. Maybe she’s gotten bored of you, only using you for her photoshoots. You’re just another prop to her.

Sometimes she brings friends over who all coo over Hamster, and often torment you. None of them will help you either. They don’t seem to like your bitter attitude. That’s not how pets are supposed to act apparently. 

You can’t tell if you’re successfully talking Hamster into freeing you, or if she enjoys keeping you locked up as much as Ashley does. Every time you mention anything Hamster shakes her head and stares at you with that stupid love struck smile on her face. You would think you could use her crush to your advantage, but so far it just makes her more reluctant to let you go. Being mean to her doesn’t work either because it puts you on Ashley’s bad side, and you end up being isolated. So you opt with trying to get Hamster to side with you. 

You’re afraid the plan is a lost cause, but all you can do is keep working on getting Hamster to help you. She’s interested in meeting more people your size, so that's what you usually tell her about in hopes she’ll get curious enough to go with you someday. 

Tonight is like any other. Ashley has Hamster cuddled up to her on the couch while they watch a sappy romance movie. You’re as hidden as you can be inside the cage, but admittedly you’re also watching the screen from an angle since the t.v. is in view from the kitchen counter. 

The movie is interrupted when there’s a knock on the door. Ashley gets up to put Hamster away in her cage, walking over to answer it.

The door flies open, almost hitting her as she springs backwards. Three masked strangers rush into the house, surrounding her. One of them grabs her from behind with a gun pointed to her head, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Scream and we’ll shoot,” they hiss into her ear. 

Shit. Shit. Shit! 

You nestle down further into the bedding, but you have nowhere to go if they want to grab you. It's hot and suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe under the weight of it smothering you. 

Looking through the haze of the fluff you see Hamster staring openly with no cover. Making herself an easy target with her mouth gaped open in shock. She doesn’t move. She makes no attempt to hide herself at all. 

Stupid girl! 

She takes a breath to scream and your whole body clenches, trying to ready yourself to be noticed.

When Hamster shrieks, Ashley struggles and begs them to leave Hamster alone. Ashley is immediately shoved out of sight by two of the humans while the third looks to see where the source of the shrill scream came from. 

The intruder walks up to Hamster’s cage, and when they see her they pull their mask down to reveal a pale freckled face. Concern written all over it. “Hey. Shh, it's okay. We’re not here to hurt you. I’m here to take you somewhere safe.”

Hamster scrambles back, tripping over fluff. She reaches her arm out towards the room Ashley was forced into, and looks back to the human while bawling. The message is as clear as usual, that Hamster wants Ashley. 

“She’ll be okay. I’m sorry you can’t see her, but they won’t hurt her. I need to know where the other boy your size is.” The human makes no moves to give Hamster what she wants. 

Hamster’s wide eyes flick towards your cage, and she shakes her head. It’s too late, the human already knows that’s where you’re hidden and peers through the bars to try to find you. Their brown eyes search every corner of the cage as their voice overwhelms you. “Hey. I’m here to help you. Are you in there?”

They must see you shaking because their gaze is concerningly close to where you’re hiding underneath the bedding. You don’t believe them for a second and refuse to move from the spot to let them know where you are. 

One of the other humans pokes their head out from the hallway, and says, “They’re in the cages. Just the two.” 

You’re a fool to think you could go unnoticed at this point. Dread trickles throughout your body, and you have nothing to grab onto to steady yourself. Nothing but white fluff between your fists. 

The human next to you nods once, just a flick of their chin, then picks up both of your cages by the handles at the top. Your stomach churns from the sudden shift of gravity. You cover your mouth with your hands to stay quiet, but Hamster has other ideas. She’s wailing pitifully and the human’s words of reassurance do nothing to stop her. 

You’re both royally fucked. 

Ashley scares you, sure, but you know how much worse it could be. So, so, so much worse. Ashley can be cruel, but she’s not sadistic. Horror stories flash through your mind of humans who inflict pain for fun, and a rush of dizziness has you seeing stars. Suddenly the thought of staying with Ashley doesn’t seem so bad compared to what could be. 

The human takes both of you into the back of a van and places the cages down gently onto one of the leather side seats. They sit on the floor with their legs crossed, eye level with you and Hamster. They take their toque off, and underneath they have a curly blonde mohawk. ”My name is Ratty. I’m here to take you somewhere safe,” they repeat those words: Safe. 

It’s grounding in a way, being promised safety, but your skepticism has your heart pounding. There’s no way what this human is saying is true.

The van starts rumbling, and you’re being driven away that moment. The other two people are in the front seats behind protective glass, so its just Ratty in the back with you. 

The human in front of you already knows you’re in the cage, so you decide to face your fears and show yourself. You throw fluff away from you, and come out with the most defiant glare you can muster while your heart hammers against your chest painfully. “Let us go!” You growl, “You have to let us go, let me out of this cage!” 

“I promise I will. Hold on. Let me take a look at this.” To your surprise, they grab the lock that's on the cage door, looking at it lazily. “Are either of you hurt anywhere?” 

You shake your head instantly, in fear that this human might want to touch you with prodding fingers. You look over to Hamster to see if she answers the same, but she doesn’t answer at all. Instead she just stares in horror, stuck in place by fear. It’s that same look that made you protect her from that mouse. The same look that got you into this mess in the first place. 

You’re trembling, but seeing her even more terrified face prompts the next question. You ask it for her, to ease some of that panic, but you’re curious enough yourself to want to know. “W-what did you do to Ashley? Is she uh… Okay?” 

“She’ll be fine. No one hurt her,” Ratty says, almost sounding bored. 

“Why did you do that?! Are you the pet liberation?” You draw your hands into fists to stop them from shaking, “How did you find us?”

Ratty stops fidgeting with the lock and sits back to talk. “Yeah, we’re basically pet lib. Something like that. I saw your picture on her blog. It was hard to miss.” 

“Are you actually going to let us go?” A lump forms in your throat and you find it hard to swallow. 

“If that’s what you want, I promise I will. We can drop you off somewhere if you have a place to go. Or we can take you to a shelter if you don’t, but you can’t go back to Ashley, or you shouldn't anyway.” 

You frown slightly, testing. “What if we did go back?” 

Ratty shrugs, staying frustratingly vague. “I wouldn’t suggest it. Why? Do you want to?” 

“No,” you say flatly, “but she might.” 

Ratty looks to Hamster who’s now curled up weeping in the corner. “I understand,” Ratty says, “Are you two close? You and Hamster?”

Hamster nods just as you’re about to say no, and you realize there's a possibility of the two of you being separated. You don’t trust this human enough to take Hamster anywhere by herself, and you have no idea what they would do with her. “Yeah, she’s with me. So you can let us go together and I’ll take care of her. We’re not going back to Ashley.”

“Alright. Is there a place you want to go?” 

You think of a known landmark that's close enough to some people you know, and request that. An apartment building in town that you know the name of. 

“That sounds great,” Ratty says, distractedly, “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I want to get you some supplies first, maybe some clothes. You’re both half naked, and from what I'm guessing she’s never been outside before…” 

You ask again with a frown, “How do you know all this?” 

Ratty shrugs. “Ashley posts a lot on her blog. Look, I really don’t feel comfortable dropping you two off on the side of the road with no supplies. I’m sorry, you’ll have to hang tight for a bit while I get you some from the store. We’ll be quick. Anything you want?” 

You glare at Ratty, but they’re right. Especially if Hamster decides to be difficult during the commute to your group of people. “I want a knife,” you start off with, testing. 

“Sure.” Ratty types that into their phone and looks at you expectantly, waiting for the rest of the list. 

You’re stunned at how seemingly compliant this human is, still feeling skeptical. You throw out a few more suggestions, wondering if there would be a catch to the request. “Hair ties, this size.” You hold out your hands to demonstrate. “Fabric, thread, plastic wrap, matches.” You list a few things from the top of your head, then add, “doll clothes.” 

“Gotcha.” Ratty types the rest up, and knocks on the safety glass to the front seat, asking them to stop at a store.

“Can you let me out already?” You ask impatiently. Ratty hadn’t made a move to take the lock off, and you are still trapped in the cage. 

“Uhh… I’m gonna be real with you, champ. If I let you out now I don’t trust that you won’t take off right away and get yourself killed somewhere in this van. I don’t want that on my conscience.”  

Your face grows hot, and you retort, “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

Ratty chuckles, which just adds to your anger. “No. I think you’re scared. Which is worse. I’ll be right back.” They change their shirt and put on a pair of glasses, altering their appearance well enough to not be recognized as the home invader from earlier. 

Light floods the room of the van as the human exits, then the door closes again leaving you still trapped with nothing but Hamster’s blubbering cries. 

You scoff loudly, “Well aren’t they a fucking delight.” You crawl over to Hamster. Her cage is right beside you, but you don’t know what to say. Your nerves are shot, and comforting people makes your skin itch. “You’re not alone, Hamster. Ashley didn’t get shot, she’s fine. So… Take a deep breath. I’m not gonna ditch you.” 

Staring into her cage, you wonder if you can get her busy. “You see that hammock? Take it down and roll it up with some food in it. We’ll need it if that human is telling the truth.” 

When Hamster doesn’t move you start snapping your fingers to get her attention. She startles, then moves sluggishly as if both your lives aren’t at stake right now. You sigh. This is going to be a long week of travel, especially if she slows you down.

Ratty’s back before long with a small bag of goods. “Anything I can help you do?” They ask as they show you everything. The clothes are a cheap brand- a little flashy for trying to hide in- but good enough for now. 

“Give me my knife,” you demand. 

Ratty slips a needle in the cage for you. It will have to do… They also break an exacto blade into manageable pieces for you to use.

The human helps you get all of your supplies ready, and you help Hamster with her clothes through the bars, wrapping her arms and legs in floral tape to keep them protected. You tie her hair back into a fluffy ponytail, and wrap fabric and plastic around her feet for makeshift shoes. The hammock is tied around her like a sash. 

You do the same for yourself and wrap as many of the supplies as you can fit into your own sash to bring with you. Ratty also gives you a tiny glass jar with water in it that you tie around your hip. It's heavy, but needed. 

You’re as ready as you can be and look for the human’s approval to let you go. With the way the human is smugly staring down at you with a soft smile you’d say they were pretty pleased with the way you both look. 

The van stops at your destination, and Ratty asks one more time, “You sure you’ll be okay?” 

“If you let me out of this cage, yes,” you huff. 

“Okay… Hold on. I’ll stand watch for a minute to make sure you’re safe too,” they assure you, and lift the cages out of the van. You have seconds to find your bearings, and watch to see what side of the building you’re on when Ratty sets the cages down next to some bushes. 

Ratty then flips the latches on the bottom of the cages to remove the whole top part of them. “I didn’t need to break the lock after all,” they chuckle. You were so caught up with the lock you forgot how these stupid cages even work. Fear really did cloud your judgement. 

It makes you uneasy how the human is treating this like a joke, but that doesn’t matter. You can practically taste the freedom. Ratty lifts the bars off the cage and you’re free.

You’re free!

You make a break for it. The wind hitting your face like cold water. You Sprint as fast as possible to Hamster, grabbing her by the wrist, running for the first cover in sight. 

Turning the corner you dive under some rubbish. Pulling Hamster against you. Covering her mouth to stop her from screaming. “Shh, don’t make a sound. Stay still,” you whisper, breathing quickly.

The human has their back to you as promised, and you only pray that this isn’t all a plan to use you as bait to find more tinies.

After an agonizing minute, the human leaves, taking both of the cages with them. You warn Hamster again not to make a sound as you take your hand off of her mouth.

She’s shaken but you don’t give her time to recover. You tell her to hold a leaf over her head so you two can run for further cover without being seen by anything that might see you as prey. 

You do the same, grabbing a leaf, and check if the coast is clear before running against the hard concrete along the side of the building. Your thoughts are racing but there’s no time to reflect on them. Right now you can only focus on getting somewhere safer. Your energy is being used to survive this trek. 

It's not long before Hamster starts to slow, and at this point you’re practically dragging her. She’s not used to physical labour, and admittedly you’re quite out of shape yourself from being locked up. You both end up kneeling over panting for breath behind a garbage can. You feel as if you’re about to throw up. “Fuck!” You swear under your breath. “We have to make it inside. It’s too dangerous out here.” 

There are still tears in Hamster’s eyes, which you don’t have time for. You assume this is going to be a constant with her. You wait for her to catch her breath, and continue running until you find a vent that leads to the inside of the building. You pull her in, and find a hole that’s been made to lead into the walls. 

Once you’re inside you collapse against the wall, sliding down against it until you’re on the ground. Your leg is throbbing, and your lungs are on fire, but you’re free. Hamster’s hand is still in yours, and she’s panting beside you. It's a good reminder that you’re both alive. 

Your nerves catch up to you, and you start to laugh. You can’t believe you made it out of that cage. You made it out finally. It’s unbelievably exhilarating.

You give yourself and Hamster a minute to calm down. Catch your breath. Let the shock wear off from everything that just happened before getting up again to continue on inside the building. 

There's pink fluffy insulation along the walls that has been pushed to the side to make an open hallway when you turn the corner. “Don’t touch that stuff,” you tell Hamster without an explanation. 

Hamster leans away from it and keeps holding onto your hand while you take her down the hallway. Eventually you reach a makeshift ladder that goes to the second floor of the building, with little ramps along the way to take breaks on. You never thought you would miss such a shoddily made structure. It's made out of various things: nails, wood, string. “We have to climb up this,” you tell her.

As soon as Hamster looks up to see how high it is she shakes her head and slowly backs away from it. Your jaw clenches in frustration. “I know you’re scared of falling but you have to.” Hamster doesn’t move, and her face crumples while she shakes her head harder. You can’t believe this is where she draws the line. 

Pinching your nose, you take a deep breath. You’ll have to wait this out until she’s ready. It’s probably the best time to take a break anyway- a proper break that is- now that you’ve at least made it inside. You sit down and do an inventory check while talking to her. “We can’t stay here all day, got it? You’ll be fine, just don’t look down and keep one hand on the bars at all times. Get ready to do that soon.”

Hamster curls up and begins crying again. Deep heartbroken sobs that wrack her whole body into uncontrollable tremors. 

If she really won’t do it, you’ll have to leave her for a night or two, and go get help. You would rather not though, it still isn’t entirely safe here. Especially with someone as naive to this world as she is.

When her sobbing doesn’t clear up you squeeze your eyes shut, really not wanting to be in this position. You’re not left with a lot of options, so eventually you sit down beside her and put an arm around her. “It’s okay Hamster. Really.” You hate this. 

Hamster looks at you, glasses fogged up on her tear stained face, then she grabs you into a hug. She pulls you against her and cries into your shoulder. You freeze, then slowly hug her back, tighter than you expected. You’re still shaken up from the whole experience, but you would never admit that you’re glad she’s with you. 

If you can calm her down, then you can convince her to follow you up that height. You wait for as long as you can, then get up. “Are you coming with me? At least try. If you really can’t do it you’ll have to wait here. Alone. If a rat comes by you’ll be screwed, so make your choice,” you tell her and give her one of the needles to defend herself with.

You don’t wait for her to hum and haw on a decision, and instead start to climb the ladder by yourself. Halfway up you look down to see her standing at the bottom, jumping from foot to foot as if trying to convince herself to follow you. 

To your astonishment, she slowly- one step at a time- starts to climb up the ladder after you. Thank god. 

It does take a lot longer than you had hoped. There's a lot of crying and freezing up, but she eventually climbs up with some coaxing. Once she’s at the top, you pull her onto the platform that leads to the second floor of the building. She hugs you tightly, trembling like a leaf, but you can tell she’s relieved to have made it. 

After a few more hours of slow travel you finally make it to a fenced in area that has a door with a latch to keep it closed. The area is large enough for a few people your size to camp out in with a roof over it. 

“We can sleep here tonight. It’s built to keep rats and stuff out of it so we’ll be safe,” you explain and drop your sash, grateful to have the extra weight off your leg. “Let’s see your hammock.” You help Hamster untie it and roll it out, collecting the food from it to put in a pile for dinner.

You feel uneasy being in a cage for the night after finally escaping one, but realistically you know the difference. Maybe it’ll calm Hamster down by being familiar to her. You’re both exhausted and don’t make much conversation while chewing on some dried seeds. Both of you are thankful to be sitting down, and done travelling for the night. 

—

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @coppercoyoti @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @whump-in-the-closet @shadowsnowdapple @whumpy-wyrms @re-whump @cypresscove @whumpninja @highlighterwhump @taters169 @voraciousvore

[basementwhumpworm]

Whumpee transforms into a gun in a violent fashion after Whumper injects them with gun juice.

Bonus points the gun Whumpee is turned into is complete nightmare fuel, made of flesh and all.

Extra bonus points the flesh gun grows legs and shoots Whumper in the face then the rest of the story’s just about the shenanigans Whumpee Gun TM gets into-

[serickswrites]

Let's Go

Warnings: gun, gunfire, gunshot, gunshot wound, blood, passing out, unconsciousness

"Shit," Team Leader muttered as they realized the mistake they made. They had thought they had enough cover to move and grab Smallest Teammate. They had thought they had enough cover to stand up a little. They had thought there was enough covering fire from the team that they would be fine.

They were wrong.

The bullet hit them in their abdomen, forcing all the airs from their lungs. "Shit," they said again as their legs gave out from under them.

"Team Leader!" Smallest Teammate shouted from where they had crouched down as much as they could.

"'m fine," Team Leader said breathlessly as they leaned back against the wooden board they had originally taken cover behind. Black spots filled their vision. This...This was not good.

"Help them!" Smallest Teammate shouted to Teammate One. Teammate One was the closest to Team Leader, only a couple of feet. Teammate One would likely have to belly crawl to get to Team Leader.

"D-D-Don'tttttt......'m ffffffffine," Team Leader muttered. They pressed their hand to the wound in their belly, trying to staunch the flow of blood from the wound. Blood seeped through their hand and dripped through their fingers. "Sh-Sh-Sh-Shitttttttt."

Team Leader closed their eyes and focused on breathing and remaining upright. They could hear their team shouting. Could hear the continuing sound of gunfire, though there were fewer and fewer shots being returned from the other side. The team was winning.

"Hey, hey, Team Leader, can you open your eyes for me?" Teammate One's voice was suddenly so close.

Team Leader cracked open an eye to see Teammate One kneeling in front of them. They had put a hand to the wound in Team Leader's belly, pressing harder than Team Leader had been able to. Team Leader knew that should be painful, but it wasn't. Their head felt as though it were filled with cotton.

"'mfineteammateone," Team Leader slurred as they suddenly pitched forward.

"Team Leader!" Teammate One grabbed Team Leader's shoulders before Team Leader could smack their head on the floor. "Say something, Team Leader!"

"LLLLLLet'ssssssgooooooo," Team Leader said, trying to rise. They only succeeded in slumping further into Teammate One's arms.

"Team Leader, you just need to hold on a bit longer. We are getting you out of here. Just hold on." Teammate One's voice was so far away and yet so close

Were they going somewhere?

"Team Leader! Stay with me now!"

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

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

@artisticdemon @pepeniascat

[apostlearcana]

@feldsparite you did this to me

(uh blood and wound care about a gunshot wound)

“HEY.”

The snarl silenced the group, a fierce gaze on the eight kids and the cat. “…ngh… does anyone have a knife?”

“I got some athletic tape. No knife.” Sakamoto fidgeted nervously.

“Good enough…”

Morgana extended his claws, the nails glinting in the sunlight. “Does this count?”

A numb nod was his response. Yoshizawa was kneeling next to him, already taking the gauze and unwinding it. “How much?”

Zenkichi closed his eyes. “I need a compress- something to pin over the- the wound. Slow the bleeding down…”

A handkerchief, undoubtedly from Okumura; Amamiya was folding it in his hands expertly, a small square primed and ready to cover the bullet wound. The man inhaled slowly. “Son of a bitch… thought the last one hurt…”

Sakamoto’s eyes widened. “Last one?!”

“Yeah… few years ago, though you kids were in junior high at that point.” Zenkichi slowly took his hand off the wound, moving to grab the handkerchief with a mutter of thanks. “This isn’t my first rodeo with a gun.”

“There shouldn’t be a last time!” Sakura stomped her foot in worry. “You shouldn’t like- be getting shot! At all! You’re… you’re like Tomari from Drive! All washed up and moody before becoming a badass superhero! Not—”

“Sakura-kun.”

“—not getting shot in the shoulder! Like a victim! Or worse!”

The words made him smile so faintly. Then he chuckled. Sakura puffed up, stomping again. “That’s not funny!”

“H-Hah… sorry… you remind me of her… when this last happened.”

Everyone's breathing collectively hitched.

"...Aoi was just as afraid as all of you are."