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skyward-floored · 2 years

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Whumptober day 23 — “hold them down”

Hyrule: if I had a nickel for every time this month I’ve had to fight one of my teammates who’d basically been possessed, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice

anyway I’m tired just take this

Warnings: blood, broken nose, injury, possession

Ao3 lonk

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“Of all the dungeons why did it have to be this one?” Wind moaned.

Hyrule could only give the sailor a reassuring pat to the arm as they continued to walk down the hall of what Wind had said was a dungeon in his era, the Earth Temple. Apparently Wind had had to traverse this place on his first quest, and it held quite a few unpleasant memories.

“You think the others are here too?” Hyrule asked, rubbing his arms. It was chilly in here, and not just with the air temperature.

It was more of a feeling, an icy sense of wrongness that sent goosebumps up his skin and a tight feeling into his chest. It made him want to run away screaming and not set a single foot further into the place, but he stubbornly tamped down the instinct as they traversed deeper into the dungeon.

“Probably? I mean, I hope so,” Wind replied. “If they’re not here they’re probably in the middle of the ocean somewhere.”

Hyrule winced. “Yeah, let’s hope the portal spat them here.”

Wind pushed open a door, looking nervously around the interior before motioning Hyrule in behind him.

“It looks like there aren’t any monsters here,” the sailor said, and Hyrule shrugged, the icy feeling still pricking at his skin. “I had cleared this place out a while ago, but I wasn’t sure if they’d come back, since it’s been a bit.”

“Unless they’re all hiding further down,” Hyrule pointed out, and Wind huffed.

“Well... maybe so. Or the others came through here and beat them all already,” he argued.

“Wouldn’t there be blood around then?”

Wind threw his hands up into the air as they entered another room. “Okay! I don’t know! Probably! Unless there weren’t the kind that has blood! I mean I’m pretty sure poes don’t have blood and there used to be loads— hey look!”

Hyrule looked up at Wind’s exclamation, and smiled as his saw Legend standing by the far side of the room, looking up at the wall.

“Veteran!” he called, and Legend’s ear twitched in response.

“Hey Legend, where’s everyone else?” Wind asked, but the veteran didn’t turn around.

Wind and Hyrule exchanged glances.

“Uh, vet?” Hyrule asked, stepping closer. A chill swept through the room and he rubbed at his arms again. “Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Legend let out an oddly high-pitched laugh at his words.

Wind froze.

“Traveler get back here,” he said urgently, and Hyrule hesitated.

“...something’s not right with him,” he said, the icy feeling increasing in intensity, and Wind gave a rapid nod.

“I know, which is why you need to get away from him, that’s not Legend. Not right now,” he gritted out.

The veteran turned, and grinned at them with a too-wide smile, a whiteish mask floating above his head.

“That’s a poe.”

Legend let out another laugh and jumped at them, sword aimed directly for Hyrule’s neck. The traveler dodged it by a few inches, whipping his shield out to avoid Legend’s blade again.

It crashed against his shield and the force of it drove Hyrule to his knees, an unnatural strength making his arms shake under the force of Legend’s blows. Wind shoved his sword against the veteran’s, giving Hyrule some space to breathe, and his arm shook as he kept his blade crossed against Legend’s.

“Get him in the sunlight!” Wind shouted, making tense eye contact with Hyrule. “It’ll get the poe out!”

Hyrule nodded and lunged for the veteran, knocking his sword out of his grip as he threw them both to the floor. Legend screeched, eyes shining with an unnatural light, and Hyrule began to force him towards the single beam of sunlight that shone in the middle of the room.

Legend screeched again, and clawed at where Hyrule had his arms clamped around him, but the traveler didn’t falter, even when Legend caught his cheek with some of his rings, sending sharp pain up his face.

Wind joined his side and grabbed Legend as well, and between the two of them were able to drag him into the beam of light.

Hyrule stared down at Legend, watching as he continued to thrash against his and Wind’s holds. Nothing seemed to change, and he shot a look at the sailor.

“This usually works!” Wind cried, avoiding Legend’s flailing fists. “It should be out of him by now!”

“Black blood,” Hyrule realized, right as Legend finally managed a hit on Wind. There was a crack, and Wind let out a cry as he lurched backwards, his nose spurting blood. Legend ripped himself from his grip, and lunged for his sword, turning on them with eyes cold and angry.

“It must have black blood!” Hyrule shouted as Legend lunged forwards again. “The sunlight won’t be enough by itself!”

Legend rammed his sword against Hyrule’s, catching him off guard enough that he was able to plunge his sword into Hyrule’s thigh.

“Traveler!”

Hyrule reeled back as Legend yanked his blade out with a laugh, gritting his teeth against the pain and throwing himself at the possessed veteran. He grabbed for Legend’s sword, wrestling it out of his grasp and rolling them back towards the sunlight.

Wind somehow shook off his likely-broken nose, and ran to join Hyrule, blood coating his lip.

“What do we do?!” he asked as he lunged towards Legend again, the veteran letting out a malicious hiss.

“I have an idea, grab him!” Hyrule shouted as the veteran thrashed against them, scratching and clawing at any bit of them he could reach.

Wind tried to get a good grip on him, but Legend kicked out at his stomach, nearly breaking free from his hold.

“Hold him down sailor!”

“I’m trying!” Wind cried out, avoiding Legend’s thrashing limbs. He positioned himself at the veteran’s back, wrapping his limbs around him in a strange mockery of a hug, and Hyrule leapt forward, drawing his magic up.

He jammed his hands against Legend’s chest, hands glowing brightly, and pushed as much magic as he could at the poe controlling his friend’s movements.

Legend let out an unearthly shriek, and Hyrule pushed harder, pumping him full of as much light magic as he could summon. The poe thrashed Legend around even more, but Wind held on as tight as he could, and soon Hyrule’s magic was too much for it.

The mask above Legend’s head disappeared, and a strange-looking ghost leapt out from inside of their friend, Legend going limp in their grasps.

Wind released the veteran and leapt for the poe, burying his sword into the creature’s stomach before it could barely realize what was happening. It let out a dying wail, and disappeared into black smoke, which soon faded into the sunlight.

Hyrule let out an exhausted pant, and pressed a hand to his leg. His injury wasn’t too serious, but it hurt, and he was completely wrecking his pants with blood.

Man. He’d liked this pair.

Wind wiped blood off his face, kneeling back down next to Legend, who had already started to stir. He let out a groan, and cracked his eyes open, the color back to their regular sharp blue.

“That was rough,” he croaked, wincing as he put a hand to his head. “Ugh.”

He finally noticed Wind peering at him, and his eyes widened a bit.

“What happened to your nose kid?”

Wind let out a congested sounding snort, and helped Hyrule sit up a bit. “You have one mean punch veteran. I think you broke it,” he said with a bloody grin.

Legend paled.

“Farore. Sailor, I’m so sorry—“

“It’s okay Ledge, you weren’t yourself,” Hyrule spoke up, wincing as he moved his leg. “We’re just glad we got that thing out of you. Are you okay?”

Legend gave a distracted nod, staring at Hyrule’s leg and face with a tight expression. “Yeah... I’m fine.”

He stood up a bit shakily, and offered a hand to Hyrule, who gladly took it. He looked Legend in the eye, giving his hand an extra squeeze before releasing it.

“It wasn’t you vet, it wasn’t your fault,” he said sternly, and Legend’s expression eased a little. “Quit blaming yourself. We’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, besides, I’ve broken my nose before!”

“That’s not something to be proud of, sailor,” Legend said with an eye roll, but he looked much better.

He nudged Hyrule, then tousled Wind’s hair.

“Let’s go find the others.”

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu wind #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu fic #whumptober2022 #day 23 #hold them down #tw blood #writing from the floor #yes I know windwaker poes don’t technically do that when they posses you but Let’s bane it on the blackblood okeydoke?#great

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quietlyimplode · 2 years

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leave everything but your bones behind

Whumptober 2022: day 23 - hold them down

Warnings: implied non con (one line the alludes to it, not graphic) / violence

Word Count: 1.1k (gif not mine)

Summary: Natasha becomes unwell and only the Red Room can fix her. The choice is die or go back to the very place that made her.

A/N: slowly slowly this is going up on ao3, so if you want to read there, even throw it some love that’d be nice and encouraging. We are at some pivotal points! On the home stretch now <3

Main Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

———

Jace stares at the man that’s so adamant in protecting Natasha.

She’s confused by the way he acts, the way he speaks his mind and ignores the threats that drip from Dreykov’s mouth.

When Natasha breaks through the ceiling, and then comes to realise what the other girls all know; her heart breaks.

They’re all powerless here.

Jace knows she can only follow direct instructions, but over the time she’s been given the injections she’s found loopholes.

They say ‘fight’ but they don’t say how hard. She pulls punches and doesn’t cut so deep with the knife.

They have rules and orders but it doesn’t mean she doesn’t have power too.

The man looks desperate as Natasha is tied up, pulling against his bindings.

If she can give him something to loosen them a little, maybe he can escape.

They’re both very lucky here in the hanger that it’s just her, Max, Lotte and Grace.

Lotte and Grace are young, stupid and have no idea what they’re in for.

They are Dreykov’s current favourites to be alone with, to travel with as companions, and they haven’t quite figured out how to manipulate him; only die inside as they do everything he asks.

Jace is just thankful it’s not her.

Max is a pit bull, ready to die for the good of the country and she supposes that Dreykov trusts that blind compliance.

Jace doesn’t know why she’s here, although she likes gun running assignments, it’s better than the oppression of the Red Room.

It feels more like she’s a pawn in this game, and she doesn’t like the uncomfortable feelings that being around Dreykov and Natasha make her feel.

She hasn’t felt strong emotion in such a long time that she wants to escape it.

Bucking against the hand cuffs, Dreykov watches Natasha as she tries to extricate herself, his amusement clear on his face.

Jace wants to tell her they can’t hurt him. None of the widows can.

But, the realization dawning on her, the blonde man can.

The chance that Jace has always waited for is in her grasp. She feels like she has been biding her time for this - the way out, a path to freedom has led her here.

She takes a breath.

The man seems to be on Natasha’s side, the affection clear as he yells and makes empty threats.

Jace’s brain fixates on the thought. She can get him free, he can free Natasha, he can kill Dreykov.

Assessing the situation, she doesn’t see a way out for Natasha as the other widows hold her down, Dreykov’s attention on her alone.

She inches towards the man, his arms pulled back against the chair as she produces a knife and presses it into his hands.

His body stills in shock, the strong string of profanity stopping for an instant before he starts again, seeing what Jace is trying to do.

She can’t help him more than that. Her training and chemicals won’t allow her.

The knife is small in his hands. The widow with brown hair is already at the other side of the room, like it never happened.

Jace? he wonders. Natasha’s stories of the brown haired assassin always leaving an impression that she was good and kind, just like Natasha; but her circumstances in life had been less than ideal.

He works the knife between the ties gently, continuing to watch Dreykov as he continues his tirade to Natasha, threatening her with a world of pain and ugliness as he hits her, punctuating his remarks.

The two younger widows standing behind the chair she is tied to holding her so the chair doesn’t flip under his wrath.

The other widow cocks his head to him, and he wonders if Natasha has stories about her.

She looks about Natasha’s age. He continues to yell, asking him to stop, his voice almost hoarse even as he no longer even thinks about what he is yelling about.

Almost.

He’s going to kill Dreykov first, then he’s going to free Natasha.

Adrenaline pumps through him as the last strap breaks.

Natasha takes the hits. If he’s focusing on her, he won’t hurt Clint.

Then.

It stops.

A gasp and Dreykov’s body drops, a knife in his back as his eyes roll and he clutches uselessly to pull it out.

Clint.

The girls holding her stop, and they move forward to attack him.

Failsafe. She knows this order.

Without the girls around him, she’s able to flip the chair, breaking it as she twists her arm, feeling the bone displace again, wondering if she’s broken it more.

Ignoring the pain, Jace gives her a look as she moves forward to attack.

Standing back to back with Clint, she rotates so he’s facing Jace. She doesn’t want to fight her. She wants to save her.

“It’s a failsafe, they’ll keep attacking you,” she tells Clint spitting blood and feeling it on her face.

“Save her, I’ll be okay,” Natasha stands in front of the three widows as Clint moves to fight Jace.

Even he can feel that she is pulling punches.

“I don’t want to do this,” she tells him, a punch narrowly missing her head. “The order to kill anyone who attacks him always stands. We must always follow.”

Clint knows.

He has a plan.

“It’ll be okay,” he assures. He feints left, narrowly avoiding her charged widow bites. He uses Natasha’s move, climbing her body locking her in a full nelson, choke hold, holding her writhing body against his.

“It’ll be okay,” he reiterates, as he holds onto her, squeezing hard, her body slowly stopping movement, giving into the inevitable darkness.

He’s going to help her like she helped him.

Just like he helped Natasha.

Cornered by the three widows, he shoots Jace’s gun into the air, pointing it at them as he shouts.

“Hey!”

The older widow turns first, running toward Clint as he throws the gun to Natasha, not wanting to make the decision to put her down permanently.

Natasha has no such compunction, shooting her in the back, and then pistol whipping the other girl in the head.

Left with one widow against two avengers, the fight is not fair, both of them working easily together as Natasha shoots her in the leg, then punches her, knocking her out, her body inert on the floor.

His attention to Dreykov is only to check if he’s dead, but the cockroach of a man has more lives than a cat as he crawls to the door.

“I can’t do it,” Natasha tells him, pointing the gun to Dreykov, unable to pull the trigger.

Clint snarls.

“Do you want me to?” he asks.

Natasha nods.

Gently, he places his hands over hers so they are holding the gun together, then fingers entwined they shoot him together.

First in the head, and then in the heart.

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whumpdoyoumean · 2 years

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Whumptober #23

xxx hold him down

Clay can’t help but enjoy his surroundings as he gets a fire started. They’d completed their assignment early, and now it’s just a matter of waiting. Ordinarily, waiting is one of the worst things to be doing in this line of work. But as far as exfil points go, he really can’t complain. The tiny island in the middle of the South Pacific is lush and green, surrounded by crystal blue water and, best of all, it’s uninhabited. They’d found a small clearing a little ways into the trees to set up camp, and now it’s just thirty-eight hours of peace and quiet. After the week they’ve had, he thinks the team has earned it.

The fire is just beginning to crackle to life when he hears a commotion from the beach. He doesn’t think anything of it at first; the guys had gone down to the water to wash off the grime, and he wouldn’t be surprised if they’d descended into rough housing. As the noise moves closer, though, it’s obvious that it’s not the fun kind of ruckus, and Clay stands.

Pooch is the first to stumble into the clearing, eyes wide. “Jensen’s hurt. Cougar says we need to get hot water.”

“What the hell happened?” Clay asks, already moving toward their bags to pull out the mess kit while Pooch gathers their hydration packs.

“I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

That’s when the other three break through the trees, Cougar and Roque supporting Jensen between them. The young man’s not putting any weight on his right leg. From the way Pooch was acting, Clay was half expecting to see Jensen with a limb dangling, or a chunk out of him from a shark bite. He can’t stop a small relieved smile from creeping onto his face.

“What, you twist an ankle soldier?”

“I wish.” Jensen’s voice is low and tight, and there’s no trace of his usual sarcasm or humor. Now that they’re closer, Clay can see how pinched his expression is, the sweat beading his brow.

And then he looks over at Cougar, and his blood runs cold. The sniper’s face is deadly serious.

“Stonefish,” he says.

Clay doesn’t know much about marine wildlife, but he knows about those. “Oh, shit.” Suddenly the hot water makes sense. And the urgency.

“Where are we with that hot water?” he calls over to Pooch as Roque and Cougar lower Jensen to the ground.

“I’ve got a pot on the fire,” Pooch responds, while Cougar grabs his pack from the pile.

Jensen lets out a low groan, and Roque sits on the ground next to him. “How we doin’, J?”

“Hurts,” Jensen grinds out.

Clay sees Cougar’s shoulders stiffen slightly and he moves quicker, pulling out his IFAK. Clay moves to his side, keeping an eye on Jensen.

“What can I do?” he asks.

Cougar pulls three more items from his pack--his multitool, canteen, and a knife, and then stands, looking Clay in the eye. “Your flask.”

Clay nods, pulling his flask out of the front pocket of his pack before following the sniper over to where Roque and Jensen are. Both look up at Cougar’s approach, Jensen’s eyes widening as they land on the knife in Cougar’s left hand.

“What-what’s that for?”

“I have to remove the spine.”

Jensen’s face goes pale. “You sure?”

Cougar busies himself opening his IFAK, and Clay can tell he’s deliberately ignoring the question. He and Jensen are close, and Clay knows this isn’t easy for him. Cougar pulls out his pill pack and tears it open, putting several in Jensen’s hand. Jensen swallows them without question.

“Lay him down.” Roque helps Jensen into a lying position while Cougar opens his flask and pours alcohol over his knife blade. He doesn’t look up when he says, “Keep his foot still.”

Roque positions himself near Jensen’s leg, putting weight on his hip and thigh. Clay props Jensen’s foot in his lap, then puts one hand on his heels and one one his toes, holding him firmly. Cougar uncaps his canteen and pours water over Jensen’s foot. The man hisses in pain.

“Cougs--” he begins, but Cougar is already moving, putting his knife point in the middle of Jensen’s foot. Jensen jerks with a cry, and Clay does his best to keep his foot steady.

“Easy, Jensen,” Roque says. “Try not to move.”

Clay looks at Cougar. “We got him.”

Cougar nods, then continues his work, making an inch-long incision in the bottom of Jensen’s foot. Jensen is staring straight up, his jaw clenched, breath coming in short bursts through flared nostrils, and Clay can feel him trembling, but he manages to stay still. Cougar sets the knife to the side and pulls out his multi-tool, opening it up and grabbing the flask again. Clay’s stomach turns as he watches Cougar pour alcohol over the needle-nose pliers.

“Now the hard part,” Cougar says. Clay tightens his grip and sees Roque do the same as Jensen lets out a thin, desperate, “What?”

Jensen only screams once before he faints from the pain, and that buys Cougar enough time to get the spine out of his foot. It amazes Clay how much agony can come from such a tiny thing. Now that Cougar’s finished, Roque shifts so he’s sitting behind Jensen, then pulls the man up into a sitting position in front of him. Jensen groans, his head moving against Roque’s chest, and his eyes flutter open. He grimaces immediately but doesn’t say anything, clearly exhausted. Clay turns to Cougar.

“What now?”

Cougar nods toward where Pooch is sitting, heating the water over the fire.

“How’s that water looking, soldier?” Clay asks.

Pooch dips a finger into the pot and pulls it out quickly. “Hot.”

“Good.” He grabs a shirt from the pile of clothes the men had made before thundering down to the beach and uses it to grab the hot edge of the pot (glorified pan, really) and carries it over to Jensen and Cougar, setting it down next to Jensen.

“What’s that for?” Roque asks.

“Hot water helps weaken the venom,” Clay answers. Roque looks at him questioningly, one eyebrow quirked up. “What? I did an op with some Australians once.” He turns his attention to Jensen’s foot, noting with concern how rapidly it’s begun to swell, and lifts it carefully into the hot water.

Jensen’s leg twitches and he makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Fuuuck.”

“Sorry,” Clay says sincerely. “Hang in there.” He straightens and turns to Cougar, who’s staring at the ground, his jaw working. “Hey, Cougs.”

The sniper startles slightly and looks up. Clay nods toward the edge of the clearing, then walks that direction Cougar following him.

“You okay?” he asks quietly once they’re a little ways away from the group. Cougar doesn’t look at him, just nods once. Without his usual cowboy hat, his damp, wavy hair falls down over his face, hiding his eyes. Clay turns his head to the side, leaning forward a little. “Hey, look at me.”

Cougar raises his head reluctantly and Clay locks eyes with him.

“Are you okay?” he repeats.

Cougar nods again. “Si.”

“Good. Because you and I both know that he’s in for a long couple of days. It’s gonna be rough. If at any point the answer to that question changes, you step away and you take five, understood, soldier?”

Cougar stares at him for a second, just breathing, and then he says, “Si, boss.”

Clay holds his gaze for one more second before giving him a clap on the shoulder. “Good.”

Just then, Jensen lets out a loud cry. Cougar is running before Clay can react, and then he’s running, too.

“Hey! Hey, easy, J!” Roque is saying, and Pooch is standing to one side, hands on the back of his head as he watches, helpless, as Jensen writhes in pain.

“We’ll need more hot water, Pooch,” Clay says, and then kneels in front of Jensen, putting a hand on his good leg. “What’s happening? Talk to me, Jensen.”

“It’s--it’s bad, boss. Really bad.”

His whole right leg from the knee down is swollen, now, and he’s sweating bullets, his face ashen, eyes glassy.

“I can feel him shaking,” Roque says. There’s a fear in his eyes that Clay rarely sees. “And he’s clammy.”

“Caffeine,” Cougar says suddenly.

“Caffeine.” Clay is already moving to his pack. “Okay.” He doesn’t know why caffeine, but he trusts Cougar. It takes him a second, but he finds his small packet of caffeine pills, and he jogs them over to the others, handing them to Cougar.

“Wha-will that help with pain?” Roque asks.

Cougar shakes his head. “Blood pressure.”

He pours the two pills out of the packet and grabs his canteen, then kneels in front of Jensen, murmuring quietly in Spanish as he puts the pills in the man’s mouth and then holds the canteen up to his lips, carefully helping him to drink. Clay’s surprised that Jensen is able to get them down; it’s obvious that he’s in agony, and he’s looking pretty out of it, eyes half-lidded and wandering. Small groans escape his lips every few seconds, and he squirms uncomfortably against Roque. Roque, whose tough-guy facade is currently full of cracks.

“Roque. Let’s trade places,” Clay says. “You need to get dressed, anyway; it’ll be dark soon and the last thing we need is you freezing.”

“Let me,” Cougar says quickly, already backing toward the pile of clothes and throwing on his shirt and vest.

Roque seems grateful for the change, and he slips his hands under Jensen’s armpits and stands, holding the man while Cougar sits down behind him.

“Hey, Pooch,” Clay calls, turning to the man crouched at the fire. “Go get dressed.”

“But the water--”

“I’ve got the water, go get dressed.” Pooch nods and joins Roque by the sandy clothes pile.

Clay takes off his coat, grateful that he’d dressed in layers for once, and drapes it over Jensen, tucking it around his shoulders.

“How we feelin’, soldier?”

At first he’s afraid that Jensen hadn’t heard, but then the young man’s lips part and he says, voice strained, “Like…like my leg’s on fire…” He blinks heavily, and his eyes roll up to meet Clay’s. “‘m I dyin’?”

“No!” Clay says, too quickly. He tries to cover with a smile. “Don’t be so damn dramatic. Just gotta change the water out. You’ll be fine.”

He moves to the water that’s on the fire, relieved when it turns out to be hot. He dumps the cooled water out of the pot, then brings the freshly heated water and pours it over Jensen’s foot. He barely responds this time, his jaw clenching and unclenching while his lashes flutter. He’s still sweating like crazy, and his breathing is noticeably labored.

“Hey.” Clay reaches forward and grips Jensen’s shoulder. “I said you’ll be fine. You hear me?”

The young man doesn’t answer, his barely-open eyes moving aimlessly.

“Jensen!” Clay barks, using his best colonel voice, heart sinking when it doesn’t get the desired response (or any response).

“We’ve got flares.” Clay turns at the sound of Pooch’s voice. “We could send one up. That’s gotta be faster than waiting for ex-fil.”

“Yeah, great idea Pooch. What Jensen could really use right now is a-a bunch of pirates. Or fuckin’ shark poachers. Or maybe we’ll get lucky, and it’ll be the guy Jensen just stole classified intel from!”

“What, you have any better ideas?” Pooch steps forward, closing the space between himself and Roque, staring up at the man who’s easily got three inches on him.

“Guys,” Clay says. Roque is right, but now’s not the time to be taking sides. “There’s probably not even anyone close enough to--”

“Yeah, but if there is--” Pooch begins, and Roque groans loudly.

“If there is, it could be anyone. You could get all of us killed, man, get your head out of your ass!”

Pooch glares, shoulders squaring. “This is Jensen we’re talking about, or do you not care?”

Roque’s face darkens, and Clay knows that look all too well.

“Guys!”

They both ignore him, and Clay’s getting ready to break up a fight when Jensen lets out a sharp cry, his arms curling around his stomach as he leans forward and vomits.

“Fuck,” Roque breathes, turning away with a grimace, and Pooch just stares as Jensen is sick again.

“There’s gotta be something I can do besides boiling water,” he says.

“You think fighting Roque is gonna help?”

Pooch’s shoulders sink a little. “No.”

“The fire needs fuel. Roque, you go with him.”

The man looks like he wants to argue, but he finally nods, and he and Pooch stomp off into the woods. Either they’ll talk and figure it out, or they’ll beat the shit out of each other but at least it’ll be far enough away that Clay doesn’t have to deal with it. He waits until they’re out of sight before he turns to Cougar. Jensen is leaning against him again, eyes closed, and Clay can see the tremors running through his body.

“Cougar, what’s the prognosis here?”

Cougar looks up at him. “Probably it will get worse before it gets better.”

Clay lets out a long exhale. “Jesus.” He doesn’t know what worse looks like, and he doesn’t want to know. Even unconscious, Jensen is letting out pained sounds, his right leg twitching.

Clay remembers the day Jensen showed up, all spiky hair and dorky glasses and stupid jokes and technobabble to hide his nerves. He’d thought then that the kid would definitely die out here, and was promptly proven wrong. The techie’s strength and fast thinking under pressure have continued to surprise him since. He’s had no trouble keeping up with the rest of them. And he’s survived his fair share of terrifying shit.

And now this. Stepping on a poisonous fish while waiting on extraction.

What a stupid fucking way for it to happen.

“He better not die.” He says it mostly to himself, but Cougar answers anyway, his steady fingers running idly through Jensen’s sweaty hair.

“Ya lo sé.”

Clay lets out a long, exhausted sigh. It’s gonna be a long day and a half, and there’s nothing to do but hope and wait.

Waiting is one of the worst things to be doing in this line of work.

xxx

#whumptober2022 #no.23 #at the end of their rope #hold them down #the losers #venom #sick #field medicine #jake jensen #carlos “cougar” alvarez #whumptober #my writing #whump

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whumpshots · 2 years

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Whumptober #23

Trope of the day: “Hold them down”

Whumper looks at the kid on the table, still not out of it, still struggling against his henchmen. It’s fascinating how much they fight, how much they his and spit. He quite likes their defiance, but that won’t stop him from showing them who has the upper hand and the last word.

His fingers wander softly over the exposed skin on his torso, revealing so many interesting scars – each telling a different story. The goosebumps he causes make him grin a bit, it’s nice to see how much control he has over that body. It’s now his to experiment with because none of those scars are his. Yet.

“Now tell me, how much pain can you take before you pass out? You’ve put up quite the fight until now,” whumper purrs right next to whumpee’s ear and sees him struggle against the hands still holding him tightly. He has become weaker, but not weak enough.

“Fuck off,” the kid hisses and whumper can’t help but chuckle and raise his eyebrows a bit. They really are a worthy little fighter, but that kind of defiance is his to break. As whumpee tries to free himself again, whumper looks at his henchmen.

“Hold them down. I will see how much they can take,” he orders and the others nod, holding the kid down, even more brutally than before which makes them grunt for a second. The struggle – the fight doesn’t stop. But whumper only smiles at that. “You’ll love this,” he says and turns around to get the knife.

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whumpookies · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022 day 23: It's just the tip of the iceberg

Prompt: hold them down

Series: Poyraz karayel

#whumptober 2022 #no 23 #hold them down #poyraz karayel #head squeeze #restrained #whump #whump cookies

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arecaceae175 · 2 years

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Whumptober 2022 Day 23: "Hold them down" (Twilight & Wild)

AO3 link. Trigger warnings: graphic description of injury (open fracture), violence, field medicine. The prompt basically demaaaaanded a genderqueer character, so of course I had to comply ;)))))))) Wild’s pronouns are they/them in this one.

Twilight heard Wild’s cry of pain from across the battlefield. Their yell was loud and clear over the clashing of swords and battle cries of the other heroes, like Twilight’s ear was specifically attuned to it. Against his better judgment, Twilight’s eyes left his own battle to search the field for Wild.

A weight slammed into his side. Twilight faltered, but quickly regained his balance and planted his feet securely into his battle stance.

“Focus, pup!” Time yelled. His shield was raised against the lizalfo Twilight had been fighting, and there was a spike from its tail embedded in the splintering wood. Twilight shook his head to clear his racing mind.

Twilight leapt around the monster, dealing a killing blow to the lizalfo while it was distracted. It fell to the ground with a horrid screech, and just as it hit the dirt it exploded into a cloud of black dust. Twilight took a step back, chest heaving, and locked eyes with Time. Time sent a cursory glance around the battlefield and his gaze landed on Wild.

Even from here, Twilight could see the break. Wild’s left arm hung limply by their side, crooked and misshapen. It was steadily dripping blood. Wild had dropped their sword, but still held a shield in a loose grip in their right hand. They were swaying on their feet, being driven back by a moblin.

“Go,” Time instructed. Twilight tore his eyes from Wild to meet Time’s.

“Battle’s almost over, we’ll take care of the rest,” Time said, then jumped back into the battlefield.

Twilight ran across the field. His gaze landed on Wild just in time to see their shield shatter into pieces. Wild barely paused, backflipping out of reach of the moblin’s club. They landed next to a discarded tree branch, picked it up, and hurled it at the moblin. The sharp end of the stick embedded itself into the middle of the moblins throat.

The monster dropped its club and its hands went to its neck. It stood motionless, choking on its own blood, before Twilight reached it and drove his sword through its heart. Twilight pushed it off his blade with his foot as he scanned his immediate surroundings. No other monsters nearby, just the ones across the field the others were finishing off.

“Nice throw,” Twilight said, sheathing his sword and stepping up to Wild. They were hunched over slightly, right hand cradling their left arm. Wild raised their head and offered Twilight a shaky smirk.

“I was aiming for its chest,” Wild said, huffing a breathy laugh. Twilight reached out his hands toward Wild’s arm, eyebrows raised in question. Wild sucked in a breath and nodded, letting their right hand fall from the injury.

“What happened?” Twilight asked. He took Wild’s arm as gently as he could, and did his best to hide his flinch as Wild hissed in pain.

“Bad angle, lucky hit,” Wild muttered through clenched teeth. “Heavy club.”

Now that Twilight had a closer look, he couldn’t keep the grimace off his face. Wild’s forearm was bent unnaturally, and already swollen to twice its size. It was hard to see through the bruising and the blood, but it looked like at least one of the bones had pierced the skin. Twilight felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he swallowed hard.

“That bad, huh?” Wild asked, voice small and shaking. Twilight glanced up to meet their eyes, but Wild had screwed them shut. Their face was pale and they were leaning to the side.

“Why don’t you sit down,” Twilight said gently, bracing Wild’s arm. Wild nodded.

Twilight held Wild’s arm as they lowered themself to the ground shakily. Wild paled further, even as careful as Twilight tried to be with their arm. Twilight knew special care had to be taken when bones pierced the skin, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what. Twilight looked desperately around him, ready to call out for help to whoever was nearby.

Warriors was the closest, and Twilight let out a breath of relief. He knew field medicine, and would be able to keep a level head. Twilight felt like he was struggling with that one at the moment.

Just as Warriors finished off his monster, Twilight called out to him. “Wars!”

Warriors’ head swiveled towards him, and his eyes widened when he saw the pair on the ground. He briefly turned to say something to Four that Twilight couldn’t make out, then ran over. He slid to his knees next to Twilight, hands already hovering over Wild’s arm.

“I think the bone pierced their skin,” Twilight said. Warriors nodded, already turning to pull his bag off his shoulder.

“Lean them against you,” Warriors said as he dug through his bag.

Twilight nodded, giving Wild a gentle nudge. Wild blinked their eyes open, and Twilight gave them what he hoped was a smile.

“Still with us?” Twilight asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Wild said, but his voice was shaking and he was still alarmingly pale.

Warriors huffed. “Not quite.”

“I’m gonna shift around, can you manage for a second?” Twilight asked. Wild blinked at him in confusion.

“I need to reset the bone and clean the wound before I give you a potion,” Warriors explained.

“Ah,” Wild said, barely audible. After only a moment of hesitation, they nodded. Twilight placed their arm in their lap as gently as he could, but Wild still couldn’t hold back a sharp gasp of pain. Twilight felt the sound piece through his own heart. As soon as their arm was down, Twilight shifted so that Wild was leaning against his chest.

“This is going to hurt like hell, Champion, but you have to stay perfectly still,” Warriors said. Wild nodded, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Twilight, hold them down,” Warriors instructed. Twilight wrapped his arms tightly around Wild and closed his eyes. He needed to keep Wild still, and he wasn’t completely confident in his ability to do so while watching. He was so grateful Warriors had experience with this, even if he hated the circumstances that gave him the experience.

“Are you ready?” Warriors asked. Wild shifted, shoving their face into Twilight’s shoulder.

“Do it,” Wild said.

“On three. One-”

Twilight felt all the breath leave his body as Wild’s scream pierced the air.

#whumptober2022 #no.23 #hold them down #linked universe #fic #linkeduniverse #lu fic #linked universe fic #lu twilight #lu wild #lu warriors #genderqueer wild #trans wild #tw:#graphic descriptions of injury #open fracture #violence #field medicine #ace writes

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