Marcus knows his role on his team: he’s the one who carries the gun, makes the hard calls - and takes the hits. He has no time or patience for anyone or anything else. But when Jake - a brand-new recruit Marcus has been tasked with training - messes up on his first mission and gets them both captured, nothing could prepare Marcus for the way his world quickly spirals out of control.
AO3
Masterlist
This is a series. Start here, continued from here.
Levy: (historical) the act of enlisting someone for military service
Contents: comfort, post-rescue, aftermath of torture, bruises, implied mouth whump, past strangulation, head injury, perseveration, memory loss, pain medication, discussion of noncon, trauma reveal, discussion of STDs, medical exam, tagging nsfwhump
~
Jake’s sobbing eased quickly, and Lars was grateful for that. They awkwardly stroked their fingers through Jake’s tangled hair, leaning over him on the bed as he sniffled.
He looked awful. They’d been downplaying his injuries, mostly for Marcus’s benefit. But Marcus had to know, didn’t he? He had to see the bruises on Jake’s face just as clearly as Lars did – the nearly-swollen-shut eye, the layers of purple and red and green around his throat, the chipped front tooth. His most recent injuries couldn’t possibly be his worst ones.
A broken arm was bad, but weeks of strangulations posed a much bigger risk to Jake’s life. Any one of them could have killed him. And each one increased his risk of stroke by… what, 5%? 10%? They couldn’t remember.
They shuddered and put the thought out of their mind. Thinking about that wouldn’t help Jake now.
Jake heaved a shuddering sob in the bed and turned tear-filled eyes on Lars. They bit their lip as they saw how bloodshot his one open eye was. Was that from crying? From screaming? From something else? They trailed their fingers through his hair again and felt, for not the first time today, so very fucking inadequate.
Jake’s lips parted. “Wh-who are you?” he croaked.
“I’m Lars,” they said gently. “A friend of Marcus’s.”
More tears formed in his eyes. “Where is Marcus?”
Lars’s mouth turned down. Might be a side effect of the pain meds. I’ve given him a lot. “He’s getting rid of the transport. Do you remember him bringing you here?”
As Jake squeezed his eyes shut, his tears escaped and rolled down his temples. “It hurts,” he whimpered softly.
“Yeah,” Lars said, reaching for Jake’s hand and giving it a squeeze. “I’ve already given you a lot of pain meds, though, can we try and make it another hour or so before I give you more? If I give you too much… it could be bad. I have my Narcan kit but—”
“They raped me,” Jake breathed.
Lars went rigid. A chill flooded down their back. “…wh-what?” they whispered.
Jake sobbed weakly. “B-Brady and Surles… they raped me. I… I t-tried to fight, but… they always had me cuffed, and… and they hurt me…”
“Oh, fuck.” Lars fumbled for their phone. “And did they… did they make contact with…” They bit down on the stupid question. They pulled up Leena’s contact and shot off a quick text:
[Go to the clinic and ask for Celeste. I need a full STD testing kit. HIV included. I need this fast, please bring it to the house.]
They set down the phone and turned their attention on Jake again. “Hey,” they murmured. “I’m so sorry, Jake. I’m so sorry that happened. I’ll I need to get you tested for STDs to make sure they didn’t give you anything, okay? Is it okay if I do that? I can wait until Marcus gets back, but… we should do this as soon as we can.”
Jake just sobbed. “It hurt,” he wailed. “It… it hurt.”
“I’m sorry.” Tears pricked at their eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Their phone buzzed.
[I told you not to fuck that guy, he’s bad news!!!!]
Lars set their jaw and typed out another text.
[Not for me. For a patient. Please hurry.]
The next text followed seconds later.
[Oh. Oh shit I’m sorry]
Lars tucked their phone away and turned back to Jake. His tears were slowing, his bruised face turned toward Lars. He looked dazed.
He’s been through a lot today. He’s earned that.
He’s been through a lot in the past six weeks.
Lars wet their lips. “Is it okay if we do that testing?” they said softly.
“Wh-who are you?” Jake whimpered.
Dread gripped Lars deep in their ribcage.
“Oh, shit,” they breathed. “I’m Lars,” they said. “A friend of… of Marcus’s. He had to step out—”
“Where is Marcus?” Jake said, fogged eyes glancing slowly around the room.
Oh, no. Oh, shit.
Lars reached for their penlight and clicked it on. “He’s dropping off the transport,” they said. “He brought you here in a transport, do you remember that?” They shined the light into Jake’s pupils. They had to pry Jake’s swollen eyelid open to get his left eye. Both pupils looked normal.
So, a bad concussion, but probably not gonna die on me.
Jake whimpered softly. “It hurts.”
“I know,” Lars said with a dry mouth. “I’m sorry.”
The tears began again, and Lars knew what Jake was going to say. They braced. He opened his mouth.
“They raped me.”
Lars squeezed their eyes shut. “Y-yeah, Jake,” they said. “I’m so sorry. I’ve got a testing kit on the way, okay? Gonna swab you and test your blood. Is it okay if I do that? Make sure you don’t have an STD? I’m… I’m a-assuming they didn’t wear protection?”
“No,” Jake sobbed. “N-no, they… they didn’t use condoms. They raped me, just…” He let out a horrible, bleating moan and shoved a fist against his mouth. “Just like they did to Marcus.”
Lars gasped. “No, no, Jake, shh…” They smoothed their fingers through his hair, hand shaking with the panic of just having heard something they knew they were never supposed to know. “Jake, it’s okay, you’re gonna be okay…”
“They hurt me,” he whimpered.
“I know, I know, I…” Lars cast a glance at the door, as if half-expecting to see Marcus standing there. “Fuck.”
Jake’s hitching sobs slowed and quieted under Lars’s touch. He almost seemed to be falling asleep. Lars sagged with relief – and that relief was crushed when Jake opened fogged, confused eyes and stared up at him again.
“Wh-who are you?” he croaked.
Lars hung their head. “I’m… I’m Lars, Jake,” they said flatly. “And Marcus is—”
“Where is Marcus?”
Lars forced themself to answer that question. They forced themself to answer each sobbed plea that came after it. They leapt to their feet when there was a knock on the door thirty minutes later, heart leaping in their chest, torn between relief and dread.
It was only Leena at the door with the STD kit. They offered no explanation, just took the kit and shut the door again. They could hear Jake sobbing, all the way from the bedroom.
Continued here
If you want to be on the taglist (including for the spicy chapters,) let me know! I only tag people in 18+ chapters if I know they are adults through conversations or if their age/age range is in their bio.
bibically accurate post-rescue is just they literally ALL hooked up. tai and nat post taivan breakup shauna and mel or tai or nat pre wedding or post wedding or mid wedding nat and van both crying. misty and nat shauna and van obviously tai and van like 12342134 times even after their breakup even in the early days of Simone (and the less early days?)
I love thinking about Taivan and their approaches to image. Like I actually think that they are both concerned with the ways that they are perceived but in different ways and it’s so fucking fascinating to me.
For Van, I think she is very used to being perceived negatively, first at home but also because they are a visibly butch lesbian in a way they couldn’t hide from publicly. But obviously the negative perception still bothered her so she used her comedy as a means of controlling how people see her. If they are funny enough, people will like them enough for no one to give them problems. That being said, Van is also very scared of being perceived similarly to Misty. I really think Misty and Van are really similar; they both want to be liked, they’re nerdy, and they are kinda autistic coded. So, Van teases Misty as a way to create space between them.
I think Tai is also very used to being perceived because she is a Black woman in a small town. For Tai, this manifests into a need for control. A need to be able to control exactly how people perceive her. We know that she didn’t want to come out before the crash, and even for a few months in the wilderness and post-rescue again. People can see that she is a black woman but they can’t see that she is a lesbian, so, she is going to keep it that way. if that makes sense?
I just think that they way that race and upbringing have effected their approaches to image and perception is SO interesting and I wanna discuss more so PLS share ur thoughts!!!!!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Yellowjackets (TV)
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Van Palmer, Tai Turner, Natalie Scatorccio
Additional Tags: Taivan if you squint, Post-Rescue, Movie: Scream (1996), YJoctober2023
Summary:
It's 1999. Van Palmer is working at the local Videomania. Her colleague can't believe she's never seen Scream, so she watches it.
The Caretaker enters into the small apartment they and the Whumpee live in, calling out that they’re home. When they don’t get the usual, immediate response, they get nervous, calling the Whumpee’s name.
Walking into the living room, the Caretaker finds the Whumpee face down on the floor, not moving. The Caretaker rushes to their side, trying to get the Whumpee to open their eyes.
What they don’t hear is the Whumper’s footsteps right behind them.
“Take a rest, Caretaker,” the Caretaker whirls around, only to have a metal bat connect with the side of their head, knocking them out. The Whumper laughs as they put down their bat and pick up the Whumpee, “You deserve it for taking such good care of my [Whumpee’s nickname].”
Caretaker rushes to the hospital as soon as they get word that Whumpee is rescued and recovering. After weeks of no news, most had begun to suspect that Whumpee was dead, but Caretaker refused to give up. Tears begin to swell in their eyes as they step into Whumpee’s room and see their bruises and bandages.
“Whumpee, oh my gosh…” Caretaker rushes to their side to hold their hand. “I was so worried! I’m so glad you’re okay!”
Whumpee doesn’t look up at them right away. They look dazed and confused about what’s going on. Caretaker reaches a hand to their cheek so they look their way. “Whumpee?”
Whumpee finally looks up at them. Caretaker’s spine begins to crawl as a smile that isn’t their own broadens on their face. “Hi, Caretaker. It’s good to see you again.”
“Whumpee? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong, Caretaker. Not anymore. Whumper fixed me, made me better. I’m better for you now that all my mistakes are gone. Now I can make you happy.”
Not figuring out the Whumpee's trauma, not helping them with the cuts and bruises and scars. Although that's all good too.
But what about a Whumper with access to all sorts of inventors and tech. What if the Whumper managed to make a microchip for the Whumpee, injected into their neck, back, etc.
What if the microchip not only tracked, but hurt? Like maybe an implanted shock device, or maybe one that can trigger your brain to make you hallucinate or faint?
I have absolutely no clue how --or if-- this would even work, but then again - that's why I write fantasy.
There's so many possibilities! Caretakers probably wouldn't even know! Why is the Whumpee getting sick/fainting/crying/hallucinating/getting shocked randomly, and at the worst times of the day?
