Hi there! I’m glad you’re still doing Whumptober, so I’m here again to get my annual dose. (hope you’re doing good too!)
May I ask for Day 23 & Trafalgar Law? I’ll leave it up to you if you’d prefer to write it yandere or not. Thanks in advance and may you have a lot of fun with this year’s prompts! 💙🌹
Of course! My apologies for the delay Michelle, and I do hope you enjoy the story ^-^
Whumptober Day 23
Yandere Trafalgar Law x Reader
"Father's a fool if he thinks I'm going to marry," you mutter under your breath as you tread carefully through the woods. Holding up the lantern, your path can be seen even in the dark of the night. "Hopefully I can get far enough so they can't find me when they notice I'm missing in the morning."
"So who can't find you?"
"AH!" You jump, startled by the male voice. You wave your lantern, trying to find the source. "Who's there?"
Blast, here you were fleeing through the woods in the middle of the night, escaping the arranged marriage your family set up for you, and someone already discovered you. Dread weighed your thoughts of being dragged back home. Frustration clenched your jaw.
"Show yourself!" If you were going to be taken back, you'd at least like to know who to resent.
"I'm right here, [Y/n]-ya." The male's voice purrs right in your ear.
You flinch, turning around and raising the lantern, highlighting the ravenet man. Silver and gold eyes shine as they peer down at you. Stepping back to properly gander at the tall man, you notice the strange circular golden earrings and the carefully trimmed & small beard (goatee).
"Wait... you're the doctor by the outskirts of the town."
"Dr. Trafalgar." He bowed in greeting. "Though I've been your family's doctor for a long time now, you may call me Law."
"Law... right," you said averting your eyes and moving the lantern away from your face so he doesn't see the blush forming around your cheeks. Oh, how you wish your heart didn't flutter so much when looking at his face.
"What are you doing out here at night?"
"I- I was just about to ask you the same," you said, unsure if he was here because of your family.
"Me? I'm just out here collecting a few herbs. A few... patients of mine have gotten sick. I need to cure them from everything."
"O-oh... I see." You wanted to question further, like 'Why would he collect herbs at night?' Alas, you held in your tongue in hopes he would do the same. "I'm- I'm running away. I need to get far enough or else it's gonna get me by the end of the night."
Law hummed in a tone that sounded pleased, perhaps your ears are playing tricks on you. He places a hand on your shoulder, smiling down at you. "If you need a place to stay, [Y/n]-ya, I have a place suited to your needs."
"...You won't tell my family will you?"
"Not to worry, [Y/n]-ya. It'll be doctor-patient confidentiality."
And just like that, you're in his arms, thanking him. He places the herbs he collected into his bag and begins escorting you away to his place. You're not aware the herbs he was collecting were nightshade, unaware of the plague doctor mask he has at his hip, and unaware you made his job of taking you all too easy.
His darling won't have to worry about being found, by tomorrow, there will be no one looking for his darling.
@whumptober 2025 No. 23: “How’d I get to this place?” Intubation
~
John was fuzzy.
And he had a headache.
And a sore throat.
And a headache.
Wait – he thought that already.
He tried to open his eyes but the light was blinding, and he screwed them up with a groan. There was noise but he couldn’t decipher what was going on.
His headache was giving him stars – and not the kind he usually loved – and…why was it difficult to breathe all of a sudden.
Without opening his eyes John felt the mask over his face with further frowns. This was not the usual oxygen mask! In his panic John began to hyperventilate and strong hands gently pulled his own ones down.
‘Easy, John. Easy.’
‘Virg’l?’
The mask was muffling his words but Virgil was expert at all things medical and replied easily.
‘Yeah, it’s me John. Open your eyes for me.’
‘What’s going on? How’d I get to this place?’
‘Open those eyes…that’s it.’
John groaned as the light hurt again, but he blinked it away until Virgil’s face began to solidify. Puzzled as he was, John easily recognised the relieved sigh his brother gave when their eyes met.
But Virgil didn’t deflate, and John knew something was very wrong by the hunching of his shoulders. He tried to sit up and that was when he realised that he was strapped down.
Impossibly, Virgil’s shoulders hunched up even more as John glanced down at himself and then turned surprised eyes back to him.
His surprise only increased when Virgil didn’t move to unstrap him.
Surprise turned to panic again, and as the weird mask began to hinder his breathing his brother at last moved towards him, unclipping the mask and gently pulling it off and resting it on John’s chest.
But he still didn’t release him.
Movement beyond Virgil drew John’s attention to the rest of the room, which he’d somehow forgotten existed, and the sight of Gordon fretting behind Virgil – the Fish hopping from foot to foot in an uncanny imitation of their eldest brother – and Alan’s back as his youngest brother was sitting…
Sitting on another bed.
That had a person on it.
Process of elimination told John it was Scott, and he immediately began struggling against restraints.
Still Virgil didn’t unstrap him, but he did place what would under normal circumstances be a reassuring hand on John’s shoulder. It was not doing its job right now, though.
‘What the hell is going on, Virgil? Release me!’
‘Calm down, John. I’ll release you in a minute.’
‘Release me NOW!’
There was a muttering, Gordon saying something about knowing John was an alien and this being proof, but all of John’s focus was on trying to work out what was going on…
There was a memory…something had happened to his brothers, to his family. John frowned and focused on Scott’s outline. Virgil sat down beside him and sighed heavily.
‘What do you remember since we came home?’
‘I remember returning to Five. And…nothing. There’s a vague feeling that you were all in trouble but…no, I can’t remember!’
Virgil’s hand, that hadn’t left his shoulder, gave a squeeze to ground him.
‘The Mechanic left us – left you – a little gift in the form of a subroutine that infected EOS. She changed your air on Five and in your suit and you began to hallucinate.’
‘Oh. Is she alright?’
‘She’s fine. You can talk to her in a minute. You really ought to put the mask back on, it’s filtering the last of the carbon dioxide from your blood.’
‘I will. After I’ve spoken to EOS and Scott.’
‘Ok. EOS you can talk to.’
‘And Scott?’
A sudden uneasy feeling crept up his spine and John shuddered. He had a feeling that he was to blame for whatever had happened to his big brother…a feeling compounded by the looks exchanged by Virgil and Gordon. Alan still hadn’t turned to look at John at all.
‘What did I do?’ he whispered, his voice full of anguish.
It was then that Gordon moved and John noticed the curtain pulled mostly around Scott’s bed. Once moved back it revealed the machines that were monitoring and breathing for his brother.
John froze as Alan finally turned to him, eyes bright with unshed tears.
‘You killed Scott, that’s what you did.’
‘Allie…’
‘No, Gordon. John wants to know. You shot him in the chest, missing his heart by inches but deflating his lung. The damage was bad, John, and they had to intubate him! They’re going to leave Scott in a medically induced coma for a couple of days to give the lung a chance to heal.’
Shrinking back into the bed, John closed his eyes, pretending he didn’t hear Gordon cross over to Alan and hold him tight as he fell apart. Virgil’s hand remained steady on his shoulder and John once more used it to ground himself.
An accident leaves Natasha without her memories, without anyone to guide her, and the Red Room chasing after her, the odds are not in her favour… unless those that love her find her first.
Whumptober 2025: Day 23 - ‘how’d I get to this place’
Warnings: medical
Word Count: 1.4K
Summary: Clint and Yelena continue to chase Natasha, despite the setbacks.
Whumptober Masterlist/Masterlist of Fic / ao3
.
PARIS/ OCTOBER 05/ 3:33am
Clint stares.
Yelena drops.
“Nononoooonoono,” he whispers, catching her in his arms.
“What the actual fuck Yelena?”
He rips the AED paddles off and starts CPR.
The machine beeps and he groans thinking that probably it could restart her heart.
He puts them back on a presses and lowers the charge button sending shocks through her body again.
“Come on,” he groans checking her heart rate, thready but there.
“Yelena??”
He taps her cheeks and looks around.
Thankfully, there’s still no one here, no one to see the commotion and absurdity of the last two minutes.
“Yelena,” he repeats, he rubs her chest hard, just like they taught him.
Clint is almost crying.
He can’t do this. He can’t.
He has no reserves and he can’t be the one that’s responsible for her dying, when she hasn’t even met Natasha yet.
He can’t be the one to explain to Natasha that her sister died on his watch.
“Yelena, you better wake up, so help me,” he groans, watching her hand flex and scrunch in awareness.
He just wants Natasha back, he wants things to go back to normal.
Her breathing evens out and she groans.
He rolls her on her side, and rubs her back swearing again.
“Never fucking do that again,” he tells her.
She sits up slowly, frowning, her hand grasps for his to stop rubbing on her sternum.
“Ow.”
Clint half laughs and the other half sounds like grab at grief and tears.
It takes a moment, and he can see her brain slowly come back online as she looks around and watches him closely.
“Told you I wouldn’t die. It would be a dumb way to go.”
He tells her to breathe and stay there until she’s ready, and keeps her quiet, cutting off any attempts at talking with the motion to keep breathing.
She does as she’s told, looking at him until she nods, ready to move.
Clint helps her to stand, her legs like jelly as he leads her back to the car, almost carrying her to get her to somewhere safe.
The car sits where they left it and he sighs heavily at the fact they are stuck, on a boat, the ferry doing its job to slowly get them across the channel.
“Let’s just sit and talk about what you just did, shall we?”
She collapses into the front seat, and closes her eyes.
“You’re mad at me, Clint Barton?” she asks, tiredly.
“It was the only way.”
He bangs his head on the steering wheel.
Yelena leans her chair back and closes her eyes.
“Say what you need to, I’m listening, I just… I’m tired.”
The noise that comes out of his mouth is somewhere between a sob and growl.
“You’re not allowed to sleep now. You don’t get to electrocute yourself and then sleep. Dying is not a unilateral decision.”
He scoffs in derision as one eye opens to look at him.
“That would be a stupid way to die!? Who says that? Why would you?! Dying is stupid Yelena, no matter how it happens. And now? When we are so close? What kind of stupid self sacrifice bullshit was that?”
He groans.
“Why am I even lecturing you?”
Then softer, more to himself.
She doesn’t reply.
“Respond to me, dammit, otherwise I’ll start cpr on you again.”
“Mm listening.”
He hits his head again.
“Don’t do that again, do you hear me? Even if they’re chasing us, even if you have another tracker, never do that again. Okay?”
He feels on the edge of a breakdown.
“Okay Yelena?”
He pokes her thigh.
“Fine, Clint Barton. Fine,” comes the tired voice back.
.
Ysabel needs to make a call, the blinking light where Yelena’s tracker was is now off.
She’s surprised it took her this long.
“Idiot girl,” she whispers.
“I’m sure I taught you better.”
Maybe she’ll give her an extra hour. Run and hide, she knows she’s on a boat anyway.
How far could she realistically get? It doesn’t matter realistically, her back up plans have hack up plans.
“Oksana?” she calls, touching two buttons on the screen and opening her laptop.
“Oui, yes?”
Oksana looks so weathered, her second in command so easily controlled, by her and others.
“The mission parameters have changed. This is taking too long.”
“Yes. What would you like me to feedback?”
Ysabel sighs.
“Tell me where Pepper Potts and Tony Stark are hospitalised. I think we need a hostage.”
.
Singapore is hot, and it’s all Clint will remembers of the place.
Opening the door to his hotel room and he heads straight to the toilet.
He’s sweated through another tshirt, and takes it off checking his sunburn before coming out and switching on the air conditioning.
“Nah leave it off,” comes a voice.
He hasn’t noticed, but in fairness, she hadn’t moved at all.
“Nat!”
He sweeps her in his arms and kisses her hard.
“Ew,” she protests, laughing and pushing his sweaty body backwards.
“How’d you get here? Why!?”
She smiles.
“Detour from Hong Kong, I caught the plane to Singapore which happened to be where you are,” she laughs.
“A good detour,” he smiles.
“Clint?”
“Yeah?”
“Clint?”
His name is said, but it’s not Natasha calling him.
He wakes, sorrowfully, the vestiges of his dream disappearing as he returns to the present.
“Yelena?”
“Who else?”
She hands him the keys to the car, and gestures to the people around.
“We’re here.”
.
“Checking out?”
Natasha nods and smiles, and does elaborate as he checks her out quickly and efficiently.
5.50am and as expected there’s only a few people around.
They ask her if she needs a taxi, but the train station is a fifteen minute walk.
She needs it to clear her head, make her body move. It’s these instincts that tell her, her memories are lost but not her instincts. The memories have to be somewhere, if only she could figure out how to get them back.
She adjusts the backpack and moves.
.
They arrive at Gare du Nord at 6.15am; both of them yawning but neither wanting to stop and get something that would take the edge off.
Even if it was only five minutes.
“What if she’s not there?”
Yelena wonders aloud.
“What if this is all for nothing?”
Clint doesn’t answer but looks around trying to find anything that will lead them to Natasha.
“Do you think she’d disguise herself?”
Yelena continues.
“How would she blend in?”
It’s a good question Clint concedes.
“Keep talking,” he tells her, sending a message to Tony to text him a picture of the passport she stole.
It takes a moment but the picture comes through.
“Brown,” he tells Yelena.
“She’d have brown hair.”
“Should we split up?”
Clint shakes his head.
She won’t admit it, but he can see she’s in pain. They’re better together.
He should reassure her, say something that isn’t mission critical but it’s been almost five days and he hasn’t stopped since he was also blown up.
Natasha appears like a mirage, the corner of the station, sticking to the shadows like he knew she would.
“There,” he elbows Yelena.
She moves quickly in the direction, not needing to say anything to Clint, her eyes sharp and movements quick.
Clint moves the other way, effectively cornering her as she moves.
“Natasha!” he calls.
Fear seems to flood her movement as she spots Clint first and looking around clocks Yelena as well.
One step forward and she runs.
“Wait!” Yelena calls.
She doesn’t. Running for the exit, Clint sprints after her; Yelena too.
He catches her in the hall and pulls her arm.
She fights back, hitting him once and then pulling her punch as a look of recognition passes through her.
“Natasha!” Yelena calls.
It’s enough for her to run again.
This time Yelena catches her.
The fight is quick, Natasha putting Yelena on her ass as Clint tries again.
This time there’s no recognition only fear and panic as she fights him.
Yelena stands and grabs at her again.
“Stop! Fighting!” she yells in Natasha’s ear.
“We are trying to help you!”
Natasha kicks her, throws her off and backpedals two steps.
She tries to run, but Clint grabs her arm.
“Natasha!”
It falls on unhearing ears.
Clint knows she can’t hear them.
He knows her too well.
“Tash, don’t make me,” he whispers, more to himself.
She cocks her head, and for a moment he thinks she’ll come with them willingly.
“No,” she whispers back, kicking him.
Clint throws two punches and with a final blow hits her on the head, knocking her out.
trans guys: do you ever wish your unsupportive parents were lowkey a bit neglective towards you? like they just don’t care what you do at all? and you can just be yourself from the get go and go out and smoke and do whatever the fuck u want as long as you come home in one piece?
sometimes i wish for that just so i could be myself easier
i’m probably really fucking entitled for feeling that way
Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, self sacrifice, blood, wounds, threat of death, mcd, public display, betrayal
"Team Leader," Teammate One said softly. Team Leader had been slumped over in their chains for hours. The bloody, ragged wounds on Team Leader's back had clotted, but Team Leader hadn't stirred. "Team Leader," Teammate One repeated.
Team Leader groaned as they shifted. "Yes, Teammate One," Team Leader replied quietly as they blinked their eyes open. They didn't sit up, the wounds on their back far too painful for that.
"How are you feeling?" Teammate Two asked. They asked the question the entire team of ten had been wondering for the last couple of hours.
Whumper had conquered the region so swiftly and thoroughly. Had attacked and was merciless. And now ruled with an iron fist of cruelty. The team could not abide the atrocities committed by Whumper and their minions. Could not abide the oppression. And so they rose up in opposition.
Whumper had caught all eleven of them several days ago. They had been trying to take down Whumper for months and when they finally had their opening, the team took it. Whumper, however, was far more prepared than they had thought. The information they had been fed about Whumper had been a lie, and worst of all, Whumper knew too much about them. Teammate Three had been feeding Whumper information about the team, and their plan, for months.
All so Whumper could catch Team Leader and make an example of them. "You're the leader of the resistance," Whumper said as they paced in front of the kneeling Team Leader. The whole team had been restrained and forced to kneel, but Team Leader had been dragged to the front. "I'm going to make an example of you for your team."
"No matter what you do to me, Whumper, they will know what you are," Team Leader said as they thrust their chin out.
Whumper backhanded Team Leader. Team Leader listed sideways, but didn't fall over completely. "We will see how true that is. What's more, I am going to ensure your end is painful. Bloody. You will be dead by sunrise, Team Leader. I'm going to place your corpse on display so that all the world will know what happens if you defy me. Then, then your pathetic little resistance will end. And I will rule forever."
"As long as someone longs for freedom, the resistance will never end. You will be stopped, Whumper. I might not live to see it, but someone will. And when you are stopped, there will be hell to pay."
"Don't do this, Team Leader," Teammate Four hissed behind Team Leader. They cried out as a guard punched the back of their head.
Whumper stared down their nose at Team Leader. "Tell you what, if you bend knee publicly. If you renounce the resistance and support my rule, I won't torture you to death. I won't hurt a single member of your team. I'll free them all. You'll remain with me, of course, to ensure the public knows how much you and I are a team, and to keep your team from trying to continue this pitiful rebellion. Join me, Team Leader, and this all ends."
Team Leader spat on Whumper's face. "I will resist you with everything I have. I will resist you until my dying breath."
Whumper wiped the spit from their cheek. "So be it, Team Leader. Just remember, I gave you a chance."
That had been hours ago. The sun had been high when the team was dragged to Whumper's dungeon. What little light trickled in from the barred windows at the top of the walls was gone. It was dark and Whumper had been torturing Team Leader for hours. They had left to "refresh" themself before resuming the torture.
"I've.....I've definitely felt better," Team Leader said as they took a shaky breath. "It's not the worst I've experienced."
"Don't do this, Team Leader. Don't let them keep hurting you," Teammate One said as their eyes filled with tears.
"I'm doing this for you," Team Leader said wearily. The long hours of torture and blood loss were taking a toll.
"Team Leader, Whumper is going to kill you. They're going to kill you and display your body. Just agree to their terms. Please, Team Leader," Teammate Two begged.
Team Leader shook their head and hissed with pain, eyes screwing shut tightly. They took a steadying breath and opened their eyes. "I'm doing this for you. I'm doing this for all of you. I'm doing this for those who are still out there who long for freedom. I won't let Whumper win."
"But Whumper has won!" Teammate Four said incredulously. "They beat us. All of us."
"No, they haven't, Teammate Four. That's why they need me to bend knee. They can't quell the rebellion without it. They're going to use scare tactics. But they haven't won at all."
"Team Leader, you are being tortured. To death. Let Whumper hurt us for a bit. We're strong enough." Teammate One needed to convince Team Leader to take a break. They couldn't stand watching Team Leader be tortured. They were sure the rest of the team couldn't stand it either.
"I won't let whumper hurt you. Any of you. Just....just be sure to not give up hope. The night is always darkest before the dawn."
"Team Leader," Teammate Two said as tears streamed down their cheeks, "you'll be dead by dawn."
Team Leader's eyes flashed brightly. "That may be, but the cause won't be. I'm willing to lay my life down if it means whumper can be stopped."
The team would have spent more time trying to convince Team Leader to surrender, but Whumper returned. "Changed your mind? All of this can stop if you just say yes."
"Go to hell," Team Leader replied.
"That won't happen for a long while yet, Team Leader. You'll be there soon though. Unless you say yes."
"I'd rather die a thousand deaths than serve you." Team Leader glared at Whumper. Though their face was pale and sweaty, their anger was strong. Their rage was a fire burning beneath the exhaustion and it would not go out.
"So be it, Team Leader. So be it." Whumper said as they nodded to their minions. "I did try to warn you."
Team Leader cried out with pain as they were dragged and pinned on their back, their wounds grating against the ground. "This is going to be fun breaking your spirit. I wonder how long it will be before your body gives out after I break your spirit."
"Hurt me!" Teammate Four begged. "Hurt me, please, Whumper!"
Whumper gave a wicked smile. "What do you think, Team Leader? Should I give you a longer break and test my blades out on Teammate Four?"
"Your issue is with me, Whumper," Team Leader growled. "Take it up with me. Not my team."
"Your wish is my command," Whumper said as they selected a particularly vicious looking blade.
Teammate One lost track of time as they watched Whumper torture Team Leader. Lost track of everything. Listening to Team Leader's hisses of pain, their cries and screams, was all that Teammate One was aware of. They couldn't stand it. But the more and more the team begged Whumper to hurt them instead of Team Leader, the more and more Whumper hurt Team Leader.
It was only as light crested through the windows at the top of the dungeon that Team Leader realized how much time had passed. Sunrise. They had made it to sunrise. And still, Whumper did not relent.
***
It was still early as the team was hauled into the town's square. The air was still chill and crisp though the sun had risen enough to chase away all the shadows of the night before. They were shackled to one another, some shivering in the chill air. Others shivered with something else. All of them were bruised and tearful. They had failed. Whumper had won. They had all failed.
They were led up to a stage. "Leave them down there," Whumper said as they marched up the steps. "Chain them to the base so all can see them still."
Teammate One offered no resistance as their arm was chained to the base. They didn't care. They had failed. Whumper had won. They bowed their head in shame as the town square began to fill with people. The entire team averted their gaze. None of them wanted to see the next part.
Teammate One couldn't hear anything over the ringing in their ears as the cart that had been behind all of them was pulled forward. Couldn't see anything over the blood staining the wood. Couldn't feel anything as their body went numb. And they couldn't breathe as they watched two minions drag Team Leader up the steps to the stage.
Team Leader's body hung limply between the minions, their chin lolling to their chest. Their still bound wrists were in front, jostling with each step. The slowly forming crowd gawked at the display as the leader of the resistance was dragged up onto the stage.
"Put them there," Whumper ordered dryly.
Team Leader was dragged away from view, though Teammate One's imagination supplied what they knew was happening. They knew that the minions dragged Team Leader to the pole in the center of the stage. They heard them drop Team Leader's body. They could almost see Team Leader lay in the heap, their blood staining the wood panels of the stage. They could hear the chains being attached to the pole and Team Leader hoisted up. They could see the horror on the faces in the crowd. And they heard the gasps as Team Leader was completely revealed.
Team Leader had bled out not long before the sun had completely risen, though Teammate One wasn't certain if it was the blood loss or the final wound that killed Team Leader. Their body was littered with with cuts and wounds, knife hilts jutting out from their sides and thighs. If it weren't for the knife buried in Team Leader's chest, Teammate One would have Team Leader was asleep, their features lax and eyes closed. But they knew better.
"Take note," Whumper said as they ripped the knife from Team Leader's chest, "my citizens, of what will happen if you fight me. Take note," Whumper stabbed Team Leader in the stomach and pulled the knife out again, "my citizens, of what is in store if you do not accept my rule. The rebellion is dead. It has died with Team Leader here." Whumper pinched Team Leader's cheek and shook Team Leader's head for emphasis. "Resistance is futile. Bow down and you may yet live and have a good life."
The team, though I hadn't stopped sobbing since Whumper had stabbed Team Leader one last time, sobbed harder as they watched everyone they had worked to save bend knee. Everyone that Team Leader had faith in. Everyone that was now swearing allegiance to Whumper. The rebellion was, indeed, dead.
Chapter 1 on tumblr Chapter 2 on tumblr Chapter 3 on tumblr Chapter 4 on tumblr On AO3
For whumptober prompts day 23, I'm doing this for you; day 21, let the bedsheets soak up my tears, no. 25, it's for your own good; no. 29, fatigue, no. 30, hospital bed/holding back tear, no. 31 asking for help, and alt prompt, motion sickness.
Chapter 5.1: I'm doing this for you
A few hours earlier
“Don’t tell mom, okay?”
Steve’s dad pulsed his hand, and Steve was too weak to return it. His brain was fogged, and the weight of his bones pinned him to the mattress. After his father scuttled off, his news gradually seeped beneath Steve’s clammy skin and into his aching head.
It was all right.
For starters, he’d learned that Eddie hadn’t ditched him. He’d allowed Hopper to take Steve to ER, because he’d had no choice. Now his dad was going to find Eddie, which was pretty much the first time his dad had gone behind the back of his Alpha wife. As far as Steve knew, that is. Hopper was in on it, too.
Somewhere, deep beneath layers of grinding misery, hope kindled.
In less than an hour, he was sitting up in bed IV-drip free—chewing on a granola bar, then bouncing the wrapper off the ceiling. Dustin dropped by in visiting hour, apologising profusely for going off grid. Apparently, it was because Wheeler had kept on yelling hoax ‘code reds’ whenever he got fangs deep into a coding marathon with Suzie. And yeah, they made a half-joking pact to kick Wheelers’ butt, ASAP.
When Dustin left, Steve considered the epic task of getting out of bed. He wanted to call around to see if his dad had any news, or if any of their friends had heard from Eddie. Dustin had promised to get the whole gang on the case. Annoyingly, though, the pup’s visit had drained Steve, and his eyelids grew heavy as his bones.
He sensed his mom draw close a few minutes later. He had already hunkered down beneath the blankets and now he pretended to sleep.
He listened to her latest conversation with the doctors, hardly daring to breathe. Maybe she knew he was awake and didn’t care? It’s not like his opinion had ever been worth shit to her, even before he presented as Omega.
As they left, he swore he heard her softly growl: “Steven. I’m doing this for you.”
He remained motionless save breaths reduced to shallow quivers in the back of his dry throat. When her stinky perfume had retreated far enough, he sat up, leaning heavily on his palms, and tried to quell his trembling. Then he pushed the side bars down, swung his legs over and slid out of the bed.
The room swayed and swerved like he was on a ship, and his knees felt like water. He grabbed the bars to steady himself, while the pain in his heavily bandaged ankle gathered pace. Hot tears pressed in the back of his eyes, his throat. Shit, he wouldn’t cry now.
He fucking refused it.
He had to get better. He had to tough this out like… like a goddamn Omega. If he didn’t haul ass out of here today, his mother was going to send him back to that clinic. Oh yeah, she’d be all, “It’s for your own good, darling,” like last time.
He’d be treated as a piece of meat.
If her path crossed with Eddie, then Eddie would be dead meat.
Okay, his dad said he’d be back soon, but waiting was now unbearable. Besides, Eddie had smelled him from over a mile off. Steve was sure he’d pick up his Alpha’s scent trail, no sweat. He should be leading the search, not languishing here. On top of everything else, he was desperate to pee, and equally desperate to find a mirror and sort out his hair, so…
Okay, baby steps.
Or, rather, heavily limping steps. If he could make it to the washrooms and back, maybe there was hope of getting out of this dump.
He plucked a comb from his bedstand. Slowly, he made for the door, dragging his bad foot, then hopping unsteadily. The smallest pressure on his injury set his ankle screeching, as if his stitches had split. He struggled on, little keening noises escaping him. A nurse intercepted him at the door and offered his assistance—which Steve refused—and then a crutch.
Steve begrudgingly accepted that, and it helped. He made it to the washroom, cringed at himself in the mirror, then sorted himself out best he could.
On exiting, he allowed himself a small fist-pump. As he stared down the corridor, though, his shoulders collapsed, and his chin drooped. The few yards back to his room stretched out like miles. He took a moment, wedged between the crutch and the wall, his panted breaths so thick they drowned out the ceaseless buzz of the lights.
You can do this. Do it for Eddie. Do it for the Alpha you’ve been brushing off for months, who you couldn’t stop thinking about… and now who you literally can’t live without.
After all, according to his Dad, one of the doctors literally prescribed Eddie.
“Hello, Omega.”
Steve yelped. His crutch toppled sideways, even as a pair of arms slithered around him from behind.
“Oh yeah, you’re ripe and juicy!” drawled a familiar voice. “My pups will eat his pups outta you from the inside, and then…”
Snap!
Steve whirled around on reflex and nipped Tommy Hagen, who staggered back, rubbing the flesh between his shoulder and neck.
“I was kidding, okay? God, since when did you bite, dude…Hey, you look like shit.”
“Back at ya!” Also, rude! He’d managed to salvage his hair quite well, in the circumstances. Steve slithered down the wall toward his haunches. Tommy grabbed Steve’s elbow, then grabbed his crutch, slid it back under Steve’s arm and helped him stand. Tommy had paled beneath his freckles, and actually looked mildly guilty. “What are you even doing here?” demanded Steve.
“Came to visit you. Retard move, clearly.”
“Yeah, right. I know what you came for. Gloat away then.” Tommy shrugged, still faintly cowed. Steve rode his tide of fury and went in for the kill: “Listen, Tommy. You are gonna go grab me some clothes from somewhere, and I’m gonna get discharged. Then we are gonna drive all night, if that’s what it takes, till I pick up Eddie’s scent.”
“Munson? Jesus, Harrington—you really are out of your pretty little head. Word is, he kidnapped you and filled you up with his trailer-park pups. It’s just so you to fall for a criminal.”
“Don’t be dumb. Eddie’s a hero—he saved my life.” Plus, this Beta had no idea about an Alpha-Omega bond, let alone a soulmate one. “Listen. I’m absolutely not pregnant, but my mom’s gonna drag me off to some specialist Omega clinic where they’ll lock me away and run tests, and…” Steve paused, fretting his lip ragged.
He didn’t have the time or the mental strength to handle the juggernaut of emotions barrelling through him. But he knew that threat wasn’t why he’d dragged himself from his bed, to Hell with the pain and the stupidity of it all.
It was Eddie. Eddie was in danger, and Steve needed to protect his Alpha. How screwball was that?
“Look, I can’t wait around while my dad messes this up. I need to find Eddie myself. Now.”
“You really do suck at being a good little Omega. Shouldn’t you be all—” Tommy flung the back of one hand to his brow “—woe is me! Let the bedsheet’s soak up my tears!”
“Screw you, Hagen. My secondary gender doesn’t define me, okay?”
“Says the pampered Omega pining for the dime-store Alpha who fucked his tiny peabrain out his ears.” Tommy looked smug again. So, default Tommy. Then his eyes slitted and he turned all sly: “What if I want to claim your mom’s reward for the freakshow’s head?”
“I’d rip your throat out myself.” Steve’s upper lip twitched, displaying his little canine teeth—a weary token gesture. His latest shot of adrenaline was basically spent.
Tommy ‘pfffd,’ though deep in those rolling eyes, something softened. Or maybe it was Steve’s wishful thinking. His exhaustion getting the better of him, Steve’s knees sagged. Tommy whacked out a hand to steady him, and Steve glared with everything he’d got left:
“Look, if you’ve ever actually been my friend, now is the time to make good on it.” Okay, he wasn’t sure that would wash. “I’ll pay you. Fuck, you can have my damn car.”
Jesus, did he mean that?
Whatever.
Steve would scratch Tommy’s eyes out later, once he’d gotten what he needed.
Half an hour later, Steve huddled in the passenger seat of Tommy’s car, ratcheting his stiff, cold limbs into a foetal position. His stomach lurched at the smallest bumps in the roadway, sending bile burning up his windpipe and into his throat. When Tommy breaked or sped up, the g-force drag through his guts set him whimpering.
He’d not felt this crappy on a journey since he was a kid.
On top of all that shit, Tommy’s endless whining drilled right into his aching head: “I’m running out of empty houses here. Christ, I don’t get how you know he’s in a basement. Let alone the point of pulling up outside and not even searching the joint.”
“If he was in there, I’d know it,” husked Steve, his throat wrecked by the acid. “Keep going.”
“Jesus, all right. I’ll try the old Hess farmhouse. But if you puke, I am dumping you out in the nearest ditch.”
Everything after that had been a fevered blur. By the time they reached the farmhouse, Steve was flopped on his back in the seat, arms and legs splayed, breathing so hard of Eddie’s scent he was pretty much hyperventilating.
Tommy wrinkled his nose at him. “Are you seriously leaking slick all over my car? Man, I know I’m getting yours but—”
“Your car can eat shit,” moaned Steve, his insides an unbearably empty ache. “You can eat shit! He isn’t here, Tommy. He isn’t here.”
“How do you know, shit for brains? I mean, this place is pretty much sending you into heat, and I’d bet on Carol’s Alpha dick that it’s got a creepy-ass basement. Just like you saw in your seriously fucked up wet dream.”
“He was here. I’m sure of it… but he’s gone. He’s gone.” Steve sobbed openly, too far gone to even care. “God, what if my mom…. What if she found him? Oh God, Tommy… it hurts. I can’t… I… it hurts so much. I can’t face the future… Any future without him.”
“Woah, woah, woah.” Tommy slammed his palms up: “I didn’t sign up for this shit. I’m taking you back the hospital.”
A flash of wild grief ripped through Steve, igniting a fresh round of cramps in his guts. He eked tight words from his clenched teeth: “I swear to God, I’ll d-die on you before you reach the hospital, then m-my mom will hunt you down and swing you from a tree by your intestines.” He’d heard of it done, long ago in Viking packs or something.
“Where the fuck else can I get rid of you?”
“D-drive to Wayne Munson’s trailer. Do it. Now.”
It was the last coherent idea Steve had. He’d cranked himself back into a ball, wishing for anything, even death, to bring this horror show to an end. At length, he’d gleaned a fresh whiff of Eddie’s scent.
The car door opened. A kind face emerged out of the gloom. Tommy and Wayne helped him out of the car and hauled him up the steps into the trailer.
“I’d sling him straight in Eddie’s bed,” Tommy grumbled. “Unless you wanna be scrubbing slick off your couch for the rest of the year.”
To be fair, Steve felt too wretched to be as slick as Tommy made out. On sinking into Eddie’s shallow mattress, though, he no longer felt so sick, though butterflies rustled in his stomach. Wayne brought in extra blankets and cushions to form a little nest around him, muttering, “There ya go, son. You’re gonna be okay now.”
Wayne got him to sip some water from a plastic bottle and gave off slightly stressy vibes that defied his soothing words. Still, Steve’s butterflies settled, and after he’d drank enough to satisfy Wayne, he settled too. Wayne tucked Steve in with a comforter so infused with Eddie’s scent that a faint chirrup escaped him.
The little room around him, floor and walls, was cluttered with stuff. Cassette-tapes, LPs, clothes, stickers, guitars and bones, and skulls—pictures of those, at any rate. Eddie’s stuff. Steve loved it.
Even without him, this nest proved more healing than any hospital bed. Steve cuddled a pillow to him, pressing it to his aching loins, and drifted away.
...
Chapter 5.2 on tumblr
(it's gonna be fine, okay!?!) Second half of this chapter will be up soon!
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Whumptober 2024 No. 23- Forced Choice | Public Display | "I'm Doing This for You"
This is my first whumptober post with OCs! You'll recognize Lucien from my yandere snippets. This is a bit of his backstory~
You can find Lucien's page here
Lucien fought the urge to stiffen as his collar was adjusted about his neck. Erythros had insisted on bringing him the party, and when the ancient vampire insisted on something, no one dared refuse him.
“You seem tense, Lucien,” Erythros said with a gentleness that served more as a warning than for comfort.
“I am nervous, Master,” Lucien replied slowly.
Erythros picked up a comb and began tending to Lucien’s long, jet-black hair. It took all of his will not to shudder.
“I’m doing this for you, you know,” Erythros said, “you keep to yourself far too much. It’s high time you got out more.”
More like it’s time for you to show me off again for your own ego, Lucien thought.
Erythros tied Lucien’s hair back, running long, bony fingers through it.
“Hm,” he mused, “would you prefer a red vest or a gold one? Either will match your eyes.”
That was true, Lucien’s left eye was an unnatural gold, the other a deep carmine. He missed the days when both of his eyes were blue, and his ears were rounded, and his teeth normal, and-
“Well?”
“Um, red will be fine, thank you, Master.”
“And your brooch?”
Lucien looked down at the vanity. It did not have a mirror since such things served no purpose here. On the vanity were a variety of brooches.
“Whichever you think is best,” Lucien said.
Erythros hummed, holding up different ones to his thrall’s neck. He settled for a simple ruby encrusted, gold brooch. He fixed it to Lucien’s shirt collar.
“There now,” he said, “you look appropriately presentable.”
“Thank you.”
“There will be humans there for refreshment. I expect you to feed at least once.”
“Yes, Master.”
Erythros seemed satisfied for the moment.
“I’ll let you know when the carriage gets here,” he said.
Erythros left the room, his long, white hair swishing behind him, and his great red wings brushing on the ground. The door closed, and Lucien breathed a sigh of relief.
I love how of all the choices he gives me, there’s never a choice to refuse, He thought bitterly.
Lucien would never express his frustration out loud. He had learned long ago that vampires had incredibly enhanced hearing, and he had learned it the hard way. He couldn’t wait until he could go back to his mansion across the lake, where no one could order him about but so much, and where he felt relatively safe… as much as he could anyway.
“Lucien!” Erythros called, “time to go!”
Lucien straightened up, his black bat wings fluttering nervously. Another night paraded around like some kind of pet or trinket.
“Lucien!”
Lucien descended the staircase and met Erythros at the castle entrance.
“Not in your head again, were you?” Erythros asked.
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“Hopefully tonight you’ll be present,” he continued, “there’s no need for that much idle thought.”
“Yes, Master. I am sorry.”
Erythros sighed.
“One day you’ll learn.”
Lucien followed Erythros into the carriage, and off they went into the night.
