bleedingintogold

[bleedingintogold]

Writing requests?

Feeling shitty so I thought I'd put up a post for requests/asks. Also because my idea bank has been dry for too long.

Anything is welcome, of course preferably within the category of whump/hurt/comfort. Can be mature or NSFW as well. Short or long detailed prompts are both welcome, but please provide enough info so I can write a story you'd actually like!

PS; I will be continuing my ongoing stories, but please be patient with me as I'm trying to make the drafts as good as possible before they're actually posted.

EDIT: Regardless of when you see this post, my requests and asks are always open! I will take some time to reply and write them but I promise to get you your requested stories!

[bleedingintogold]

The medic leaned over his captain, wiping away the sweat on his forehead with a damp cloth. The man himself was out cold, as he had been for the past day. Tan skin had become a pale shade and a strong body had been reduced to a limp shell of itself. Heavy breathing became the only thing that showed he was still alive and struggling to be.

He wasn't getting better.

The wound had festered and the infection must have gotten into his bloodstream. Medic had been too late to notice and the captain had been too occupied trying to keep as many of his men alive as he could whilst completing their mission. The platoon stopped advancing yesterday when their captain collapsed right in front of them.

But the general had had enough. One man wasn't enough reason to abandon their assignment.

"He can't even sit up by himself, sir! He won't survive if we-" "We aren't bringing him. He will stay here," "With all due respect sir, this platoon needs their medic with them-" "I said that your captain is staying here. Not you," The medic's heart dropped when the general's words started to register. He was being ordered to leave behind his captain. His brother by everything but blood. "Look at him, medic. I doubt he will still be alive by tommorow. You're wasting your supplies," "General! He isn't dead yet! He just needs time-" "Time that we do not have, soldier. We will move by sunrise tommorow. We are advancing without him,"

A small whine answered the general before the medic could, making both men turn to the weak body on the cot. The general sighs as he walks to the young man's side, placing a gentle hand on a too warm forehead. The captain's eyes were hardly open, but he was conscious and had heard the whole conversation. "I'm sorry, son. You were a good soldier and one of my best men. But this mission is of higher importance," "My men...take care of 'em, sir," "I will. For your own good, you need to let go. You don't need to hold on anymore, son. You've done your part," The medic's hand trembled as he watched the two high ranks.

"m' sorry, sir...dying...is not as easy as I thought," "I know. Which is why I will help you. You don't have to suffer like this anymore, son," The general said as he passed the medic a small packet of white powder. "Sir?" "It's cyanide. Mix some into water and feed it to him tonight," "You're...you're asking me to kill him, sir?" "He's in pain, soldier. You're going to do him a favour,"

The captain was partially conscious now but he had seen the powder. Medic made the mistake of meeting the captain's eyes, seeing the fear in them under the haze of sickness. "I will allow you to bury him properly before we depart. Make sure it is done by sunrise," the general said before leaving the tent.

-----

Medic cradled his captain's upper torso, the mixed concoction of poison ready in a canteen. The captain's head laid limp against Medic's shoulder. Medic noticed that his captain was trembling.

No, wait. It was him.

He was trembling.

A weak voice pulled the medic out of his haze. "Medic...I...I don't want to die," a voice he didn't recognize said, soft but shaky. "But...you're in...pain. You won't survive anyway-" "I don't wanna die...please...I'm scared..."

Medic put the canteen down, instead wrapping his arms tightly around his captain. The captain was built bigger than medic, but he seemed incredibly small in his brother's arms. "Okay. Okay. You're not going to die, alright? I'm not...I won't do it," "But...the orders..." "Fuck the orders. I am a medic. Your medic. My task is to keep the men alive, not kill them,"

The captain didn't answer, savouring the warmth of his brother holding him.

[bleedingintogold]

(Don't mind me. Just dropping random OC lore without context. Currently on clone whump rot)

01 looked through the glass where 05 was. The youngest clone was sat almost comfortably on the examination table as the research and medical team around him poked and prodded at his skin. Several IV lines were connected to his body, either taking blood or pumping something else into it. There were electrodes on his temples and chest, monitoring vital signs.

01 had been afforded the dignity of boxers, all those years ago. 05 was given no such thing, covering himself with his hand as he stared blankly out the window, which was really too high to see anything but the sky. He wasn't the slightest bit fazed by these routine testings, yet the clone still grimaced when a new IV line was placed directly into the base of his neck, the medical officer doing the procedure holding his head firmly in place.

05's attention was caught by one of the officers as they explained something to him. The young man frowned before nodding, a gas mask placed on his mouth and nose before he was made to lie down on the table.

For a moment, 05 caught 01's eye through the one-way glass. 05 couldn't possibly see the older clone, but 01 could feel the gaze on him. It didn't last long as 05 lost consciousness within a few seconds, the gas mask removed in favour of a breathing tube down his throat.

01 left when the medical officers started to shave 05's hair. The sight of a tray of assorted sterile surgical equipment, including what 01 recognized as a drill and saw laid on it, being pushed into the room was enough to make his stomach turn.

-----

"Are they done with him?" asked 03, when he saw his elder enter their barracks. "No. They won't be for a while. Looks like they're putting a new chip in," "Why only him?" "His chip stopped sending signals during the past mission. You know how the higher ups hate to not be able to see what's going on in real time,"

What 01 did not mention, but was sure the other clones knew, was how unstable the committee believed 05 was. As though it was 05's fault that they had run out of raw DNA to clone him from and decided to use the genetic material from their previous sucessess instead. Them.

Clones made for the purpose of leading war according to their ideal. Made unable to disobey nor even consider to betray them.

Puppets with guns.

-----

05 groaned as he woke up. At least they had given him a blanket this time, even tucked him in. He passed his hand over his head, slightly upset at his shaved scalp before feeling the thick stitches at the base of his skull with his fingertip.

"How are you feeling, Alpha?"

05 hated that name more than his number. It ingrained that he was a test model, a draft. But its what everyone else but the other clones called him.

"My head hurts. May I get some painkillers?" "I apologize, Alpha. But you're not allowed to have any yet. I'll give you some as soon as I can," the officer said, almost respectfully if 05 didn't know any better.

He knew what they thought of him. If the older clones were their successes, 05 was barely a proper result. Soon they would make a 'Beta' or 'Gamma' and he would be thrown into a cryonetic tank, to be preserved like a fossil and used as fodder for the next generations. Alive but not at the same time. He dreaded that inevitable day.

"When will I be put back on the field?" "You'll stay here for the next week at least, so we can test that your chip works," "And my team?" "They will be deployed only when required under the command of your predecessors,"

05 watched as the medical officer prepared an IV. The officer held her hand out for 05 to offer his, cleaning the skin before sliding in a new IV in his wrist.

"This is for your nutrient supplement. You may feel hungry still, unfortunately. The best you can do is drink some water. No solid foods for 3 days," "I understand, "

05 thought she would leave right after that, so he had let his guard down, leaning back into the bed. He did not expect her to squeeze his already aching skull, her fingers digging painfully into his skin.

"Talk to me with more respect next time, Alpha. It's the least you can do in front of one of the people who made you," 05 grimaced, fighting off every trained and embedded instinct in him to subdue her. "I...I'm sorry. I didn't realize," he said instead, grimacing as a fingernail dug into the new stitches. "Good boy," The beep of the monitoring camera being turned back on was the last thing 05 heard before the door to his prison room was locked.

[bleedingintogold]

Teammate's hand laid gently on his captain's sternum, trying to provide some comfort. There was something truly terrifying about seeing his captain like this. A strong body that was trembling from blood loss and strangled, struggling breaths pulled from smoke damaged-lungs. Maybe it was the way his captain eyes were drooping as they tried and failed to focus on the ceiling of their truck rather than the medic working on him.

For a moment, the captain's eyes met with Teammate's, reminding him that despite his higher rank and experience, his captain wasn't much different from him. Barely a few years older and as much as cannon fodder as he was. Eyes that once held a fire that kept them all going now looked so defeated, scared.

Young.

They should have lived different lives. Full lives where they could have chosen their own paths and made their own choices. Instead, they were thrust onto a battlefield for the sin of being born.

A small choked sound escaped the young man on the stretcher as a bloodied, shaky hand reached to grasp Teammate's wrist. Teammate clasped his fingers tightly around his captain's, firmly squeezing calloused palms together.

"You're going to be alright, brother. We're right here,"

-----

Heavily inspired by the clone troopers from Star Wars : The Clone War

[bleedingintogold]

A leader whose strength has always been his team. He never had people that he felt so connected to before, people who he trusted would always have his six, who he could be vulnerable around, who would never leave him behind.

Until they do.

He can only watch as eyes that once looked at him with belief, with a gaze that told him that they were always on his side, turned to disgust. When hands that once stitched his wounds and massaged sore muscles are the same ones that hold the whip to hurt him, fists that beat him and draw blood. Arms that had once hugged him when he needed warmth are the same pair that hold him still as he's branded as a traitor for something that he had never done.

It had been so easy for them to turn on him, as if all those years together spent by the fire, bonding over food and banter meant nothing.

The leader who they had once loved like a brother lays in the basement cellars, starved and cold and sick. He stopped eating, only ever partially conscious when they torture him for information that he does not have. They keep him there while the wounds they inflicted fester and slowly kill him, all hoping that he'll at least survive to see the day that his proper punishment is dealt.

But then the real traitor steps up out of guilt, after seeing what had been done to the man that had been falsely accused. After they had seen a good man treated as though he was worth less than the dirt on the bottom of his team's boots when all he ever did in his life was for his people.

The leader, broken and dying on a hospital bed, lives just a few moments long enough to hear the apologies of his team, his brothers and sisters. Cries that beg him to pull through as though they hadn't been the very ones who put him here.

Still, he forgives them.

Taking a few more weak breaths as the world that has always failed him finally gives him mercy.

[bleedingintogold]

cozy

It had been for warmth.

After being rained on, some of their gear getting soaked after two of them had slipped on mud, the team was properly tired. They just managed to set up a single large tent before all of them started stripping away wet clothes for dry ones and hunkered down for the night. Second-in-Command was the first to lie down, falling asleep pretty quickly. Leader left the tent briefly to scout the area, leaving the others to start getting comfortable. The tent had been cold and the lack of enough dry blankets had the team snuggling up to each other. Youngest politely rejected it, finding it weird to hug his teammates, most of which were higher ranked than him. Leader was too tired to argue when he got back, passing Youngest his own blanket.

"Take this then. If you change your mind, just try to slip between us,"

Youngest watched the captain get right into the middle of the sleeping pile, the others adjusting around him to make space. Oldest grumbled at needing to move just as he was getting warm, Leader's much cooler body from being out stealing away the newly-generated heat between them. A soft apology from a shivering Leader had him humming in defeat. Eventually, Second-in-Command had her forehead pressed against Leader's shoulder and an arm around his waist while Medic had decided to tuck his smaller body completely against his captain's chest, Leader's arm around him as well. Even the burly Oldest, battle hardened and scar-riddled far more than his younger teammates was huddled close, awkwardly curled around the other three with Leader's head tucked under his chin, a large hand behind the younger man's head to keep it there. It looked so comfortable.

Youngest felt a pang of misplaced loneliness as he glanced at the rest of the team, soft snoring coming from them. He must have given up trying to show he was 'strong' in his sleep because he found himself incredibly cozy when he woke up, still dark outside.

Although Medic's hair was in his face and Second-in-Command was practically drooling on his shoulder, Youngest didn't feel like moving, until he realized that he was actually sleeping on top of Leader. He must have squirmed too much in fear of suffocating his captain because he heard the man huff before and arm snaked around him to keep him in place.

"Move, and I'll shoot you up the arse," Leader said, his tone being too sleepy to actually be threatening. Maybe cuddling wasn't so bad after all.

(A little something warm and self-indulgent for the cold weather, inspired by military tactical cuddling)

[bleedingintogold]

two critically injured, probably dying soldiers tucked away behind cover while a battle rages on close by.

they're on opposite sides, but that hardly matters when they're both slowly bleeding out, too consumed by pain and weakness to go reaching for their weapons.

so instead they talk. about themselves, their loved ones, what they hoped to do after the war, their life's dreams, even things as simple as their favorite foods or colors. in their dying hours, they build a strong connection to a person they've only just met, and both wonder to themselves if they could have been good friends, had things been different.

maybe they die there. two soldiers wearing opposing uniforms, bodies slumped against each other and hands tightly linked, seeking the comfort of human touch in their final moments.

or maybe one soldier's comrades come to save them, and they struggle with what little strength they have left, begging and pleading for them to bring the other soldier too, that they won't go without them.

[bleedingintogold]

Leo's Appendix Part 1

Leo was in the middle of making breakfast for himself and Jack when he realized he had stomach ache. Not a bad one, just painful enough to be noticeable. They'd gone out with Ari the night before to watch The Rangers game at a sports bar near their apartment and he knew that ordering the hot hot hot wings had been a mistake, but damn they had been good. He made himself a cup of peppermint tea instead of his usual cup of coffee and got on with the veggie sausage, scrambled egg, and cheese burritos that were Jack's favorite. Jack came in a few minutes later, freshly showered and yawning, poured himself a big glass of water and sat down at the kitchen table.

When Leo put the burritos down on the table, Jack just kind of wrinkled his nose.

"What?" Leo said, "You love these."

"I know," Jack said, "But I've had a stomach ache since dinner last night. I don't know if the food was off or if I just ate too much, but I'm not really hungry this morning." He pushed the plate away.

Leo sighed, he really didn't like sending Jack to school without breakfast. "Yeah, I kinda feel the same way this morning," Leo said, collecting the plates again. "Maybe I'll just freeze these and we can warm them up another day."

"Yeah, that sounds good, thanks Leo." Jack grinned at him. "I'm glad Ari's going to come to my art show tomorrow night."

"Me too," Leo smiled, trying not to look too excited. Ari had broken up with the guy he'd been dating for the past couple of years and he and Leo had been seeing a little more of each other lately. Leo tried not to get his hopes up, and tried not to spend too much time with his ex since he didn't want Jack to feel like he wasn't around, but yeah...it had been nice to have him around more often.

Jack had gotten a painting into a young talent show at a local gallery, and he was excited about it. This was the first time Leo had really seen him proud of himself and seemingly really looking forward to something, especially without trying to hide those feelings from his dad.

Throughout the day at work Leo’s stomach continued to feel…off. Not especially painful or nauseated or anything, just kind of bloated and generally uncomfortable. He headed home afterwards and found Jack in his room finishing his homework.

“Hey, Leo,” he turned around in his desk chair. “What do you want to do for dinner?”

“Uh, I had a big lunch,” he lied, the words coming out of his mouth before he could stop them. “You okay with leftovers? We still have some of the spinach Alfredo I made the other night, I can make you a plate.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jack waved him off. “I can get it myself. You shouldn’t have to fix me dinner if you’re not even eating.”

“Alright,” Leo agreed. “How was your day?” He leaned against the door jamb while Jack told him about art class and his conversation with Raina at lunch and his meeting with his college counselor. So different than he was a year ago, Leo thought to himself, smiling.

“I gotta get back to my homework,” Jack said. “Wanna watch some tv later?”

“Sure,” Leo nodded, aware that he’s been dismissed. He went to the kitchen and fixed Jack a plate and then made himself some toast as an afterthought. He should probably eat something, right? After not eating all day he was starting to feel a little shaky. He dropped the plate at Jack’s desk and ate his own dinner on the sofa in front of the tv, washing his toast down with another cup of peppermint tea.

Leo felt a little better after dinner, reassured that he had just been feeling the effects of beer and spicy wings on his mid-thirties digestive system. Jack joined him after a while and they watched the new episode of Breaking Bad and then the news and Conan. Leo was asleep before the news ended and woke up on the couch under a blanket at two am and got up and shuffled off to sleep in his own bed for the rest of the night.

When he woke on Friday morning he felt…surprisingly tired for someone who’d slept for something like nine hours. Jack was already up and dressed and eating cereal by the time Leo showered and dressed and made his way to the kitchen.

“Sorry, I overslept, I was going to make you breakfast,” Leo said, pouring himself some water.

“‘S’okay,” Jack said around a mouthful of cereal. “I like cereal.”

Leo nodded, still too sleepy to say much.

“So I’ll see you tonight?” Jack asked as he rinsed his bowl in the sink.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Leo smiles at his son. “Want me to make dinner first?”

“I’m going to have dinner with Fonzo and Raina, but I’ll meet you there at seven?”

“Can’t wait,” Leo says as Jack puts on his coat and shoulders his backpack. He pulls Jack in for a hug, even though it provokes the expected eyeroll and sigh. “Proud of you, bud,” he says.

“I gotta go,” Jack says, pulling away, make Leo momentarily sad that he missed the cuddly little kid stage of Jack’s life. “See ya.”

Jack hustled off down the hall and Leo finished getting ready for work, still dragging and made his way to the train station and then his office. He was feeling better once he had some coffee, but after his usual turkey sandwich for lunch the dull ache in his stomach started again, this time accompanied by some low level queasiness. He took some Tums and cut out a little early, heading home for a short nap and to change clothes before Jack's show opened.

When he woke up on the sofa a short time later he was sweaty and disoriented and not feeling much better, but after a quick shower and a change of clothes he felt well enough, apart from the low level nausea. He thought he must be fighting off a bug. After all, Jack's stomach had been hurting the day before too, maybe he'd brought something home from school.

Leo grabbed a ginger ale at the bodega and decided to walk downtown instead of taking the train, the cool night air felt nice and refreshing and he made it to the gallery in reasonably good spirits, even if the pain in his gut had increased ever so slightly.

He ran into Ari outside the gallery, and gave his friend a hug.

"Hey man, good to see you," Ari said, kissing Leo on the cheek as he pulled away, sending a swarm of butterflies aflutter in Leo's stomach.

"You too. Ready to see some young talent?" Leo asked.

"I guess so, can't say I know much about art, but it's pretty cool that he got into this thing."

"I know," Leo said proudly, "Most of the artists in it are already in college and Jack just started his Junior year of high school. It's impressive."

Ari clapped him on the back, "You're such a dad, it's so cute."

"Well," Leo said, "I am his dad, after all."

They made their way inside the gallery. There were quite a few young people milling about and waiters passing trays of canapes and red and white wine in little plastic cups. Ari passed Leo a cup of red. He took a sip, but it immediate felt sour and corrosive in his stomach. He just held the cup to blend in, looking around at the artwork.

He found Jack's first piece almost immediately, a large canvas, four feet by five feet. Leo and Jack had stretched it together as a Saturday project. It was a painting of Fonzo in the middle of a skateboard trick, based on a photo Jack had taken and manipulated with a fish eye filter in photoshop and then sketched onto the canvas before rendering it in oils in a complementary red and green color scheme.

"Wow, it's huge," Ari said. "And I'm amazed he did this whole thing in red and green without making it look like a Christmas tree."

"Yeah, it's really something, huh?" Leo said. He'd seen the thing a thousand times but it looked bigger and more imposing on this white wall with all these hip people around than it did propped against the wall in Jack's bedroom.

"Oh hey, there he is!" Ari said as Jack and Fonzo walked up to them. Jack was obviously trying to suppress an excited grin.

"Hey, you guys made it," Jack said, allowing a side hug from Leo and a full hug from Ari. Leo's not sure why but Jack never wants to hug him in public. Maybe he should feel good about that, though, most sixteen year old boys would be embarrassed to hug their dads in public, right?

By the time he was done worrying about it, the boys had moved on and he was back with just Ari again. They milled around looking at the paintings and drawings. Leo thought Jack's two entries are certainly the best one's there but Ari laughed at him when he said it. The pain in Leo's stomach turned to a constant burning over the course of the next hour and he was starting to feel a little sweaty and a little more nauseated, regretting drinking that entire ginger ale on his way over.

"Leo!" He jerked to attention when he heard Jacks' voice. "I want you to meet someone." Jack and a young man who looked to be in his late twenties were approaching. "This is Elliot Grant, he organized and curated this show. Elliot, this is my-" there was a tiny pause"-my dad, Leo Montelione."

It was all Leo could do to shake Elliot's hand. "Nice to meet you." His entire body was vibrating with joy at being referred to by Jack as "my dad." He cleared his throat, this wasn't the time, he could crow about it to Ari later. "It's so great that you included Jack's pieces in your show"

"It's my pleasure," Elliot says, smiling. "It's an honor to be able to showcase the work of such talented young people. You must be very proud."

"You have no idea," Leo said faintly, unable to convey the depth of what he might be feeling right now in words. They talked for a few more minutes, Jack beaming excitedly beside them, until Elliot excused himself to say hello to another artist.

"I already sold a piece," Jack said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "That's great, bud," Leo pulled him in for another half hug and Jack put his arms around him this time. "You're really doing it, Jack," Leo murmurs into his ear.

Two hours later, after Leo had long given up all pretense of being interested in the paintings and found a nice bench to park himself on. Ari had gone home half an hour earlier, and Leo was starting to feel increasingly sick, but he really didn't want to spoil Jack's fun. He hunched forward, the only position that seemed to ease his stomach pain, and breathed through his nose slowly, trying to stave off the now overwhelming nausea.

"Hey, sorry, are you ready to go?"

He looked up to see Jack standing in front of him, his backpack slung over one shoulder, still looking as happy and excited as Leo's ever seen him. Leo couldn't help but smile at Jack as he got up slowly.

"You okay?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, feeling a little sick. Something I ate, maybe, or a stomach bug, no big deal."

"Oh, sorry," Jack said, "Want to take a cab?"

"Yeah, good idea," Leo said, the pain in his stomach increasing when he stood up straight. He bit his lip against the pain and followed Jack out to the curb where the kid had already managed to hail a cab. Leo white knuckled it all the way back to the house, rolling down the cab window and sticking his head halfway out, hoping the cold air would keep him from throwing up in the backseat of the taxi. He made it to the curb in front of their apartment, handing Jack his wallet and jumping out quickly to be sick on the sidewalk. He threw up a small amount of liquid, gagging harshly, and then another, larger wave of acid, burning his throat and nostrils. When he straightened halfway, he gasped in pain.

"Shit, Leo," Jack slipped an arm around his waist. "You okay?"

He nodded. "Just get me to bed, I'll be fine."

Jack helped him inside and into the elevator. Leo leaned his head against the cold metal wall. "Sorry kid, didn't mean to ruin your night."

"You didn't, my night was great. We could have left earlier though, or at least you could have. I wish you'd told me you weren't feeling good."

Leo snorted, "Guess we're both too stubborn for our own good."

They finally got back to the apartment and Leo stumbled into the bathroom and sank down onto his knees in front of the toilet. Jack hovered in the doorway nervously.

"I'm okay, kid, just gonna have to let it run its course I think." He waved Jack away. "You don't have to stay and watch."

"Okay," Jack said, edging out of the room. "I'll be around, if you need anything."

As soon as he was sure Jack was gone, Leo hung his head over the bowl and groaned, coughing a little and bringing up another mouthful of liquid and then another. The pain and nausea were competing for worst sensation and they were both winning. He sat there, arms wrapped around the seat, head resting on his left shoulder, trying to move as little as possible between rounds of dry heaving so as to not make the pain worse.

Jack poked his head in an hour or so later. "Hey, just uh, wanted to check and see how you were doing."

"M'okay," Leo said, not daring to raise his head and send the room spinning again. He heard Jack leave and breathed a sigh of relief, but he came back a few minutes later with a glass of water and sat down on the floor by Leo.

"Try and drink some water," he said.

"No thanks," Leo said. "You don't need to be here."

"No offense, but I think I kind of do." Jack looked at him worriedly. "You sweat through your shirt. Do you want a clean one?"

"No," Leo said, "Just let me be, I'm sure I'll be fine in the morning."

"Come on," Jack said, "You haven't been sick in half an hour, you should be in bed, I'll help you."

"It's fine Jack, really," Leo said, but he could feel himself giving up. Bed did sound good, it sounded heavenly, and so did a clean shirt.

He felt Jack's hands under his arms and he pushed himself away from the toilet seat. The room spun and shifted, but he managed to get his feet under him and to hunch over enough that he could walk and Jack helped him sit on the bed and pulled his sweaty shirt off.

"I think you have a fever," Jack said. He put a hand on Leo's bare shoulder and then yanked it back as though bitten. "You feel really hot. I think you really need to drink some water. I might have never done this before but you say it to me like thirty times a day when I'm sick."

The kid had a point. He reached for the glass on his bedside table and managed a couple of sips. "Happy?" he asked as he curls up on his side.

"Thrilled," Jack said.

Leo closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but he couldn't get comfortable. He was still so nauseated and the pain was slowly ratcheting up and up and up. He dozed a little here and there. He was vaguely aware that Jack was nearby watching over him. That was as embarrassing as it was heartwarming. Jack had referred to him as "my dad" and the way he'd said it Leo just knew he'd been working up to it, that he had wanted to say it but didn't quite know how.

Sometime, towards morning, Leo woke up feeling absolutely wretched and pitched forward just enough to vomit off the side of the bed. Jack was there a second later, holding a trash bin under his chin as he weakly released another mouthful of bile, unable to contain the pained groan that accompanied each contraction of his stomach muscles. He fell back on the pillows exhausted, felt Jack wiping his mouth with a tissue or a napkin or something. He closed his eyes and vaguely heard Jack talking to someone, but he was too tired and in too much pain to be curious about who it might be.

[bleedingintogold]

promise

Right-Hand opened his eyes to find himself under what looked like the wing of the jet. Mangled metal and smoke surrounded him.

They crashed.

He grit his teeth as he pulled himself from under the wing, discovering that besides a throbbing head, his leg was definitely broken.

He was forgetting something.

Someone.

He didn't come here alone.

He came with Leader. Where was Leader?

"Leader!" He called out, dragging his broken leg behind him as he crawled away from the rubble. Leader couldn't be too far away, he was right beside him in the cockpit. So he must be on the other side. Right-Hand let his pain escape his throat as he dragged himself along. He heard him before he saw him. Painful, wheezing breathing that wasn't his own.

"Leader! Leader, I'm here!" He wasn't prepared for the scene in front of him. Leader was on his back, with a large piece of metal in his stomach. His navy jacket had turned black, stained with blood. Leader must have been bleeding out for a while, drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Leader. Leader it's okay, I'm here,"

"It hurts," Leader said quietly, eyes meeting his Second-in-Command but not truly looking at him. "I know," Right-Hand assessed as much as he could see, pushing through the blurry vision of his own concussion.

"It's...bad? How...how bad?"

Pulling Leader out would just kill him quicker, not that Right-Hand had the strength to do it anyway. "The team should already be on their way, Leader. Our beacon would have activated as soon as we crashed," Leader only hummed weakly in response, face turning paler by the minute.

"No, no. Leader you gotta stay awake, yeah?" Right-Hand slapped his fingers gently against Leader's cheek.

"Ow..."

"I'm sorry. But you can't sleep, alright? Talk to me, Leader. Tell me about something,"

"Huh?"

"Anything, Leader. Tell me...tell me about..." Right-Hand's head throbbed harder as he tried to string his words together. His eyelids felt heavy. "Hey...hey...you gotta stay awake too," Leader said, making Right-Hand jolt awake.

"Don't...don't leave me alone..."

"I won't. I'm here. I'm here, Leader,"

Fear cruised through Right-Hand's veins when he realized he had just woken up again.

Leader.

No. No. No.

He promised Leader he'd stay with him!

"Shit, Right-Hand, calm down!" Teammate said as she pushed Right-Hand back onto the makeshift bed.

"Leader? Where's Leader?" Teammate's eyes widened at that, exchanging a look with Medic. "Leader's here too, Right-Hand. We found you both,"

"I need to see him. Let me see Leader. Leader!" Medic kept his arm across Right-Hand's chest to keep him down, not needing much force with how weak Right-Hand was.

"Not right now, Right-Hand,"

"You found us in time, yeah? Why are you here then? You should be working on him!"

"Right-Hand..."

"No, no. Go work on Leader, damn it! I'm fucking ordering you to!" He said as he struggled against Teammate and Medic, kicking his IV tower down with his good leg.

"Right-Hand, stop fighting us!"

"He's dead, Right-Hand! He was dead when we found him!"

Right-Hand felt his heart drop at that. Leader couldn't be dead. He was right there with Right-Hand a few minutes ago? How many hours was he sleep?

"Where?"

"What?"

"Where is he?"

"...Leader's right beside you, Right-Hand," Teammate moved to show Right-Hand the second cot. Someone was lying in it. A white cloth draped over their body and face.

"No. No, that's not him. Medic, that's not Leader," "It is. It is, Right-Hand. He bled out as soon as we arrived. Teammate, show Right-Hand Leader's face,"

Teammate hesitated as she turned toward the body of their leader. She gently pulled away the cloth covering his face, proving to Right-Hand that it was indeed Leader under the cloth.

"I told him...I promised him, I'd stay. I promised him I wouldn't leave him alone!"

"You didn't leave him, Right-Hand. He wasn't alone. You were right there until the end,"

Right-Hand reached out to pull Leader's hand from under the cloth, tears falling as he felt cold skin against his fingertips.

[bleedingintogold]

Hi! I love your writing! Instant follow with the leader and blanket one.

Writing prompt: Retired leader being comforted by his wife from ptsd nightmare

Please?

Thank you for the prompt idea! Honestly, this was a great way to get out of the stump I was in, and I hope it's what you're looking for!

This takes place in a further future of an original character of mine.

Rex heard the sound of the gun going off before he saw Connor's body hit the ground. He tries to get to his fallen teammate before someone else pulls him away. Somebody is shouting orders but all Rex can hear is Connor's heartbeat in his ears, which should be impossible. He only gets a second where Connor's eyes meet his, pleading him for help as he chokes on the blood collecting in his throat and falls to the ground.

The next second, Rex finds himself running. There's something heavy on his back. A person? He doesn't know where he's running but he's following someone in front of him.

Rex blinks and he's on the ground and everything hurts. He tries to look for something, he doesn't even know what he's looking for but it's something he knows it's something he needs. Smoke is covering his vision and he can't see in front of him. But then he finds it.

Under his fingers, wet and sticky and sickeningly warm is a hand that isn't his. A hand that isn't attached to an arm.

Suddenly the smoke clears and hands are covering his face, suffocating him. He pushes against the hands, clawing at them to let him go but they only wrap tighter on his face. He feels more fingers around his throat, not letting him get a single breath in. Rex feels the black out coming as his body loses strength.

"Rex!"

The man startles awake, hitting his head against the headboard. His vision becomes starry as he rubs his eyes, trying to make it go away quicker because he can't see, and his team needs him and he-

"Shit, Rex!"

The retired captain had sent a punch that only hit air. Someone is pinning him down and Rex feels every muscle in his body strain to fight back but at the same time he's exhausted. He can't defend himself and he can't escape and his team isn't coming for him-

"Rex, baby, look at me?"

Slowly, everything comes back into focus again. Rex finds himself enveloped in warm, strong arms, his ear right next to someone's chest.

"Rex, can you hear it? You hear my heartbeat don't you? Can you count it for me, baby?"

Rex obediently does as he's told. He feels fingers gently scratching his scalp as he finally is able to process his surroundings.

Rhea stops him when he reaches 150, gently tilting her husband's face up to look at him. She gently rubs her thumb against his cheekbone, smiling softly at him.

"Hi there, big guy. Can you tell me where you are right now?"

"At home?"

Rhea hummed in approval, her hands cupping Rex's jaw.

"Did I...did I wake you? I had another nightmare?"

"Yes, baby. You did. But it's okay. It happens," Rhea kissed Rex's face before pressing their foreheads together.

"It's okay, Rex. Everything's okay,"

Rhea pulled her husband into a tight hug, and soon enough, she felt him shake with sobs. She shushed him gently, letting him bury his face in her shoulder, soaking the cotton in tears. Rex holds onto his wife tightly. A small irrationall part of him thinks that if he doesn't, he'll lose her too.

"You're okay, Rex. You're okay,"

[bleedingintogold]

Distant

Cw: past and present torture, scar/body shaming, self depreciation, isolation, all hurt/no comfort, creepy whumper, emotional manipulation, gaslighting, noncon touching, extremely vague implications of potential non-con relationship

They separated themself because of their work. That’s what Leader told themself. Getting caught up in the dynamics of the team would only ever be a distraction from the job they had to focus on.

They put distance for a reason. They only interacted the others during meetings or missions. They ate, slept, and planned in their own chambers, far away from the common area that the team shared. They didn’t talk with them, only giving orders when necessary. They led the team, strong even from afar. They were efficient and calculated with everything they did. It wasn’t isolation, it was tactic.

Any personal connections would only distract them, cloud their work and blur the lines between strictly coworkers and the strong familial bond that the others seemed to share. Sometimes Leader would walk by, only reason they were outside their own room being some sort of necessity, and see them. All of five of them, huddled on a couch barely big enough to fit three people, laughing and fooling around as some movie droned on the television. A few plush throw blankets shared among the group. A bowl of popcorn balanced in Teammate’s lap, while Youngest reached over Medic to grab a handful. A loud, shared laugh when that popcorn flew a moment later and smacked Hero in the face.

Leader had walked in and snatched the remote, clicking the TV off.

“We leave at five tomorrow,” they snapped, their lips pressing together as they fixed a glare across the team. Watching as each of their eyes dropped in turn.

“Sorry, Leader,” Right Hand muttered, their posture straightening as they sat up and pushed the blanket off their legs.

Words rested heavy on Leader’s tongue, but they clenched their jaw and swallowed them back. They set the remote down none too gently on the end table, the plastic hitting loud against the wood. Stalked out of the room a moment later, pausing just outside the hall when they heard Youngest’s voice.

“What’s their problem?” The newest teammate whispered, sound carrying just enough so Leader could hear. Something in their chest tightened, a cold emotion seeping through their gut.

“Don’t mind them,” Right Hand mumbled back, words obscured slightly by a shuffle of movement. “They’ve always had a stick up their ass. It’s not personal.”

Leader quickly walked away.

They couldn’t get close. The walls were there for a reason. The team might not necessarily like them, or even respect them, but they listen, and that’s all Leader needs them to do. They weren’t there to be friends with anyone. They were there to lead.

That’s what they did. They led mission after mission, never ending with anything other than overall success. Sure, sometimes there were hiccups, bumps in the plan but success was success, even if hard earned. If they all came back to base, intact and breathing with whatever supplies they had been sent to collect or whatever villain they had been ordered to defeat conquered, it was a success.

Success. They had destroyed the weapon Whumper was building. That’s what the plan had been. Capturing the criminal would have been a nice bonus, but it wasn’t the plan. The plan that was successful. The ride to return to base, the six of them packed in the open back of a military grade Jeep, there was an air of pride that settled across the team. Exhausted, worn, but well-earned satisfaction.

Right Hand sat with one arm around Youngest’s shoulders, holding them against them as the vehicle rocked over the uneven roads. The kid was out cold, dead tired. They had done well, Leader had been watching. They did everything right, just the way they had learned in training. Fought back three henchmen at once, helped hold the line of defense while Leader went to complete the mission. If anyone earned rest, it really was them. A bruise bloomed across their jaw, a small split tearing their eyebrow, but they seemed to have avoided any serious blows.

Teammate sat to their other side, looking dead tired but smiling softly. One hand fooled with Youngest’s hair, the other resting close to their chest wound in gauzy white bandages.

Hero and Medic sat close, against the wall that separated the body of the vehicle from the canvas tarp section the team sat in. The former was bandaging Hero’s leg, which had a nasty looking slit running down nearly the entire length of their thigh to their knee, speaking to them quietly.

Leader sat separate from them all, by the back door where the tarp would flip up and the gate would open when it was time for them to exit. A low ringing buzzed in their ears as they focused on a flickering spot of light, one that just managed to filter through a gap in the canvas. Nausea clawed at their stomach and crept up their throat, the sting of bile making their eyes burn as they forced their breathing to remain steady. They clutched their jacket tightly around them, the thick fabric doing nothing to soothe the continuous chills that raked up their spine. One arm wrapped around their abdomen, holding the coat closed over them while their other hand was stuck through the open zipper, palm pressing firm against their side.

They didn’t think it was bleeding too badly, but their dark jacket would turn bloodstains invisible so they had nothing to go off of but the warm, sticky liquid spilling past their fingers. It had definitely slowed in the past half hour, which they knew was a good sign. Pain painted darkness around the corners of their vision, but they were able to blink back the clarity. That was also a good sign.

Only a few more minutes until they were back to base. Until they could slip out of the truck and away to their chambers. Medic would take care of the rest of the teams’ injuries, they didn’t have to worry about them. Right Hand would give the orders for the night, though there wasn’t much to do other than rest and recuperate. It would all be taken care of. If Youngest were to question where they were, Hero would roll their eyes and say something like “they’re mad we didn’t catch Whumper. Just let them sulk,” and that would be the end of it. They doubted they would ask though. It was clear the newest teammate didn’t like Leader, which was fair enough. They were just the asshole who ordered the rest of them around, the obnoxious commander that no one liked but they were too scared of to not follow orders.

A long time ago, long before Youngest joined the team, before Medic and Hero were ever officially assigned to their squad, they had tried. They had tried to form the kind of bond they saw across the team. Before they were Leader, back when they were under Mentor’s command. They had never quite fit in to the dynamic. Leader had been painfully aware. They tried not to notice the way the atmosphere would change when they entered a room, the way their team would address them politely but the tension beneath was clear. The unease, unsettlement.

Leader didn’t blame them. Back then, they hadn’t bothered to hide. They would walk into training with a tank top and shorts, scars and mangled flesh practically on display. When they bore Whumper’s marks not with shame but anger, a drive for revenge they dreamed about enacting.

The first time they had heard Mentor talking to Commander, they hadn’t really been surprised. More hurt than anything, quiet voices floating through the hall after combat training. The pitying words laced with a disgust only Leader could hear. “What happened to them?” But concern was the last thing in their tone. That was the first time, hearing how clearly they spoke behind Leader’s back, they realized just how warily the others acted around them. How they walked on eggshells whenever Leader entered a room. They didn’t think anyone really noticed—or cared—when they pulled away after that. When they retreated to their chambers, started eating meals in their room. Opting to train alone rather than with the group. Wearing thick long sleeved shirts whenever they went anywhere outside the privacy of their own room. And then even when they were alone. The ugly, uneven, raised scars only ever seemed to mock them, until they couldn’t bear to look at them.

Leader squeezed their eyes shut with a shudder, pain rippling across their side.

The mission had been a success. They destroyed the weapon.

All because Whumper had let them.

The villain had intercepted them the moment Leader had split off from the group to fulfill their part. Had wrapped their hands around their throat and shoved them against the wall with enough force to knock the breath out of them.

“Oh Leader, it’s so good to see you again.” Whumper grinned, their thumbs digging against Leader’s throat hard enough to make them gag. Only laughing as they scrambled to claw at the grip restraining them. “You really should come visit more often. I was starting to miss you.”

It still hurt to take a deep breath. The hood of their jacket pulled up and their chin tucked down, the bruises that were still settling into an angry red obscured. They couldn’t imagine swallowing.

“How badly do you want this, Leader? What would you do to make sure your team leaves here alive?” Whumper had asked.

“Anything. Please.”

Anything was a very broad category. Leader had meant it. Anything. Whatever you want. Just let them leave. Leader’s head throbbed as they leaned it back against the canvas. They had to be almost home.

“They don’t know, do they?” Whumper asked, a blade dancing between their fingers as Leader stripped off their jacket, then their shirt. Folded them with trembling hands and set them aside.

“No.” Leader answered, truth weighing heavy on their voice. Whumper only tipped their chin, a silent order that rang loud through the room. The back room, the very weapon that Leader was supposed to destroy constructed right in the center of the lab. They lowered themself to their knees besides it, letting their head dip in submission.

Their back ached. The rail dug into their spine, sending a small jolt down their back at every bump in the road. They would be back soon. Deep breaths. Slow inhale, slow exhale. Only a few more minutes until they’d be able to retreat to the only haven they had.

“You haven’t forgotten, have you, Leader?” Whumper crouched in front of them, dragging the flat of the blade down Leader’s cheek. Twisting it so the tip traced across their bottom lip, barely scratching the skin as they dragged it down their chin, their neck.

“No.” Leader responded quietly, fighting to remain still as the blade traced an old scar down their sternum. Drawing a faint line of red over the raised skin. “No sir.”

The road changed from gravel to dirt beneath the tires and Leader almost cried with relief. A couple minutes. Only a few hundred more seconds until they could disappear. They watched as Teammate lightly shook Youngest’s shoulder, rousing them. As Medic began to pack their supplies back into their first aid duffel. Something twisted in their stomach.

“You were always so good for me,” Whumper whispered, the tip of the knife resting just above Leader’s naval. Their other hand raised to cup the hero’s cheek, thumb brushing over a faint scar that split their cheekbone. Their touch was so gentle, so caring Leader couldn’t help but lean into it. Shame and longing burning in their chest as Whumper smiled sadly at them.

“Oh you poor thing. Surrounded by your team but so, so alone.” They let the commander rest their head in their palm, watching the emotions dance behind Leader’s eyes. “I’ve never hurt you as bad as they’ve been, have I?” Their voice was barely audible, but the truth rang through the room. Tears stung Leader’s eyes, a single one slipping from the corner and trailing down their cheek. Whumper tenderly brushed it away.

They could still feel the hands against their skin. Phantoms of touch lingering over their face, brushing away the tears Leader fought back with every sliver of strength they could muster. Something was eating away at them from inside, tearing them apart piece by piece. They stumbled up as the truck finally stopped, not even waiting for the engine to turn off before they opened the back gate and climbed out, movements uneven and graceless.

“You really need a win, don’t you?” The words seemed to echo in Leader’s mind, leaving their ears ringing. They let their eyes slip shut, just for a moment. They could almost forget where they were. They could almost forget the tip of the knife resting against their abdomen. They were drowning in the touch, the care from hands that had only ever hurt them. They weren’t sure if they wanted to come up for air.

They nodded against Whumper’s hand, slowly opening their eyes once more.

They were in the base before any of their team got out of the truck. They moved through the halls in a daze, following a route in their mind that they weren’t quite paying attention to. Their hand shook as they typed the code to their room into the keypad by the door, legs wobbling beneath them as they stumbled inside.

They made a straight path for the bathroom, fumbling off their jacket as they went. Blood soaked their undershirt, plastering it to their side but they tugged it over their head, ignoring as it pulled at the wounds.

They snatched a hand towel from the rack it hung on, the white fibers turning red the moment they touched it. They pressed the linen to the wound, swallowing back a hiss. The cuts weren’t bad, but something about it made the gashes sting worse than they would if the towel was soaked in alcohol. They would throw it out later. Not worth trying to wash out. Same with their undershirt.

The mission had been a success. The weapon was destroyed. Gone, Whumper’s plans wrecked. But Leader had failed their assignment. They were supposed to be the one to destroy it, and they hadn’t. Villain had torn apart their own work. Ripped it to shreds right there and burned the remains. Set the whole damn room on fire. Leader could still feel the heat flush against their cheeks.

They let the team escape, though they had the forces to subdue them all. They let them walk away unscathed and celebrating a success that was given to them.

“Hold still for me, alright?” Whumper murmured against Leader’s ear, dragging their empty hand down Leader’s bare side. Feeling the goosebumps rise beneath their fingertips as they stopped along a familiar set of scars by the bottom of their ribcage. Let their palm rest over the marred skin for a few long moments before moving to grip the hero’s arm, holding it still as they raised the knife. Leader shuddered and bit their lip, letting their weight sink to rest on their heels. Their other hand clenched against their thigh, nails digging into their palm.

They couldn’t hold back a gasp as the tip of the blade plunged deep into their skin. The pain was sharp and bright, fire licking below their flesh as Whumper slowly twisted the knife downwards, following the path of a raised scar. Their other hand held Leader’s arm, just above their elbow for stability. Their grip firm, comforting as they hummed a quiet reassurance.

“You’re doing well, Leader.” Whumper said quietly, gaze focused where the knife split the skin, precise and dangerous. “Your team doesn’t recognize how hard you work. They’re fools. All of them.”

“I’ve always seen your dedication. Your strength. You can’t show them your pain or they’ll think you’re weak.”

Whumper’s hand moved up their arm, resting on their shoulder as they began the next deep line. Leader winced and Whumper hushed them.

“I’ve hurt you. I’ve pushed you past your limits, broken you. But I have never thought you were weak.”

Leader pulled the towel away from the wound, grimacing as they did so. They moved to the sink and fumbled with the faucet, putting a clean corner of the towel under the water. They leaned heavily against the counter, slowly bringing the cloth to dab away at some of the drying blood.

The knife dropped away from their skin as a bead of blood rolled down their torso. Whumper’s hand left their skin, pulling aside their own jacket’s hem so they could slip the blade back into its sheath. They shifted onto their knees, even with Leader’s height as they brought both of their hands to either side of their face. Cupping their cheeks with a care Leader had never felt before. Thumbs running soothingly over their cheekbones.

“Never forget who you belong to,” Whumper murmured quietly, pulling Leader’s face forwards so they could press a kiss to their forehead. Lips warm and possessive against their clammy skin, lingering for just a moment before pulling back.

Leader could still feel the heat against their forehead, sticking to their skin as they cleaned the area around the cuts. A small collection, maybe eight lines in total, neat and perfectly in line with the old scars below. Two letters, letters that had once been lost among the dozens of other marks and blemishes, now highlighted in red. Making sure they’d never forget.

They heard a small buzz, vision speckled as they looked down. Their communicator still clipped to their belt, the small screen on top lit dull green with a message. They could only make out the first few letters of the contact, but they knew who it was. Right Hand, probably to confirm they should take over the mission review. They’d take their answer whether Leader responded affirmative or not at all. They didn’t bother to reply.

[bleedingintogold]

Tower

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Infection, delirium, post-apocalyptic settings.

"We need that supplies from the delivery," Leader started, their voice strained as the fever threatened to overpower them once again. They tightened their hold on the table, steadying their gaze. "I expect all of you to do your best, even if I won't be with you to keep your heads in line."

Youngest looked surprised, concern taking over after realising the meaning. Leader managed a smile, trying to keep their voice gentle. "I won't be joining you this time. My leg would only slow you down. But don't think you can get rid of me that easily. I'll watch over you from the tower and be in your ear every step of the way."

Right Hand assured Youngest too, but worry was clear in their eyes. Everyone had enough on their plate to be concerned about already, but on top of that Leader was burdening everyone. They clenched their fists, swallowing hard, another wave of pain consuming them. "Right Hand, walk me to the tower."

Before they could blink, Right Hand was next to them. But Leader kept walking by themselves until they were out of everyone's sight. With each step, they felt their body falter, the infection tearing them down from inside. They could feel every life depending on them and the people that would jump on them at their slightest mistake.

"Are you alright?" Right Hand asked as soon as they were alone. Swallowing, they managed a nod, but the pain was evident in their trembling limbs. They lowered themselves with Right Hand's help, their breaths laboured.

"Old age is finally catching up," they chuckled weakly, attempting to lighten the situation.

"Don't say that, you're still as strong as ever."

"Oh, where is your spirit?" They stood again, letting Right Hand carry half of their weight. "Can't think of a time you'd miss the opportunity to tease me."

"Please, I—I just can't stand you joking about this. You're the closest thing I've ever had to a parent."

Perhaps the only luxury they had at the end of civilisation was the relationships they had. Leader also saw them as their child, and they feared that when the inevitable come, the one stayed behind wasn't going to handle it well.

They forced a smile as the shiver returned, trying to be supportive despite the pain fogging their thoughts. With sheer willpower, they forced their body to cooperate and stood once more, leaning on Right Hand to carry most of their weight.

As they ascended to the top of the tower, the steps grew slower, each movement burning their veins. Finally, they reached their breaking point, but Right Hand gently guided Leader to a seat, carefully placing their throbbing leg on another chair. They winced, expression crumbling with pain as the cameras flickered to life, casting a blue glow on their pale, sickly skin shining with sweat.

"You should rest," Right Hand cleared their throat. "Not deal with us."

"I will," Leader responded weakly. "When this is over. I want all of you back in one piece." Because I don't know how I can continue if something happens.

-•-

"You can trust me," Right Hand assured as they repeated the plan again, squeezing Leader's shoulder. "I'll set this up and go. You need anything?" They stood, starting to check the mics and earpieces.

"All is well."

The hardest thing was seeing Leader like this. They could do so little with the supplies they had, Leader stubbornly refusing anything because of a flu outbreak in their makeshift village.

"Press the button to talk, and keep the mic next to your mouth." They instructed, checking the cables.

"I'm just—just old. N-not ancient."

Right Hand's heart faltered as Leader's voice faded. They quickly turned back to Leader, only to see them passed out. They shook the feverish body, their breaths hitching with panic. They gasped a weak no, their one hand cupping Leader's burning cheeks.

They opened the windows, wind carrying a breeze due to the height of the tower. Desperately, they searched for something, anything for the fever. There was no medicine, but with a sudden spark of idea, they took Leader's armband, soaking it with precious water.

Their hands trembled as they wiped the sweat falling from Leader's forehead. With desperate hope, they soaked it again and placed it on the leader's forehead, hoping to bring some relief.

"Please, wake up," they didn't know what to do, so they begged. "We're not getting rid of you this easily, remember? You can't leave me— us alone."

Seconds turned into agonizing minutes, and just as Right Hand stood helpless, Leader groaned, eyes opening slightly, their gaze meeting the worried gaze of Right Hand's.

"I... I'm alright," Leader murmured weakly, their voice barely enough to be heard. "The team... needs you. Go."

"No," Right Hand almost pleaded. "I can't— I'm not leaving you alone like this."

"We can't afford to lose the chance for more supplies."

"I will get the doctor, some painkillers and fever reducers—"

"Right Hand," Leader cut sharply, the tune stopping Right Hand at their place. "We both know that the doctor is too busy, and we're running low on the latter two."

Right Hand sobbed. "I'm scared you won't wake up next time."

Leader pulled them to their chest, hugging as tight as they murmured. "I will be here when you come back with the supplies."

Reluctantly, Right Hand pulled back and nodded, their vision blurred by tears. They planted a gentle kiss on Leader's forehead before rising to their feet. With a final look of concern, they checked their gear, adjusted their earpiece, and left the tower, leaving Leader behind.

-•-

Right Hand listened to Leader's voice throught he mission, always steady and assuring. Things went smoothly, and the team was soon back in their territory with the resources.

"Mission was a succes," Leader breathed, their words laced with both satisfaction and fatigue. "You've done well. Now, rest and recover. I'll be waiting for you."

As the team regrouped and began their return to their small village, Right Hand looked for an opportunity. They dropped the supplies, slipping some into their pocket, prompting subtly for Medic to come with them and the others to help the doctor.

They rushed through the stairs, Medic shouting after them where were thry going. There was no time to answer. They barged into the tower, Leader's pained breaths greeting them. Leader stirred, but their eyes were closed, probably not aware of their arrival. Right Hand's heart ached at the sight, and they immediately knelt.

"Leader," they whispered, gently cradling the feverish body. "We're back."

Leader's eyes fluttered open, and for a moment, their gaze seemed unfocused and distant. Panic surged through Right Hand as Leader didn't recognize them.

Medic finally reached the top, frozen with shock.

"Help!" Right Hand cried out, snapping Medic out of the shock, and Medic rushed to their side, ripping the leggings of the pant to reach the wound.

Leader's breathing grew ragged as Medic unwrapped the dirty bandages, their movements careful and gentle. But as Leader's fever-addled mind processed the situation, panic washed over them.

Leader struggled in Righf Hand's hold, reaching for their gun or anything they could use as weapon. Grasping the situation quickly, Right Hand threw the gun away and tightened their hold. "Leader, it's okay. Not threats around," they reassured. "Medic is here to help."

Medic spoke calmly, their trembling hands betraying their posture. "I won't harm you, Leader. This is just an injection, something that might help relieve the fever and the infection. Trust me."

Leader trashed weakly, stirring reminding Right Hand of seizures.

"You're going to be alright."

Right Hand held Leader in their arms as Medic injected a powerful antibiotic, wrapping the wound with clean bandages. Leader winced, their weakened body wracked with pain. Right Hand put their chin to Leader's head, Leader clinging to their arm like a lifeline.

As the medication took effect, a wave of relief washed over Leader's features. Right Hand felt Leader relax into their arms. Though weakened, Leader's eyes gained a flicker of clarity.

"I'm here," Right Hand murmured, "you're not alone."

"I... I thought..." Leader's voice trailed off, their words still tinged with confusion.

Right Hand gently stroked Leader's hair. "It's alright, Leader, you're safe. We are safe. Just focus on resting now."

With those words, Leader allowed themselves to drift into the soothing darkness of sleep, their body finally giving their mind a break despite the tormenting pain.

[bleedingintogold]

So uh, I kinda fleshed out this guy? His name is Dane and his stories will probably be in snippets rather than chronological.

Here's the first one.

sick

"Aw buddy, you ain't feeling too good, huh?" Dane whimpered as he looked up at his dad, knowing it'd make him look cuter in Nyx's eyes. Nyx sighed, stroking the boy's scalp and pushing damp hair out of his face. "My poor baby. Let Cap make it better, yeah?" Nyx slipped off Dane's sweat soaked t-shirt to press a cold cloth against his skin. Dane shivered at the contact, pulling away. "Shh...just sleep, buddy. This will bring down your temperature. You'll feel better soon," Dane fell asleep to a large hand in his hair and a warm presence right by his side.

-----

Dane couldn't sleep, as much as he wanted to. He was too hot and too cold at the same time. And his stomach fucking hurt. The captain curled into himself as his stomach grumbled again. He imagined his father sitting on his bed, his hand that had always felt so big in his hair. "Shh...Dane. Your dad's here. You're okay, baby boy," "Dad..." Dane whimpered softly, tears falling as he swore he heard and felt his father right there with him. God, he missed him. He'd do anything to get him back.

-----

Matt sighed as he finished hooking up his captain to a fluid drip. His lips had been blue and his face pale when he found him. Dane still whimpered 'dad' under his breath every now and then. He seemed to calm when Matt ran fingers through hair, something he'd never do if Dane was awake. "Goddamn it, Dane. When are you gonna learn that we're here for you?"

A leader who is cold and aloof.

He doesn’t join the team when they attempt to bond, sticking to only training them and giving orders. He won’t even eat with them at the same table, let alone initiate conversation outside what is necessary. The team don’t push, out of respect and borderline fear for him. They believe that he’d sacrfice any of them without a second thought if he had to. They trust him to lead them, but they don’t trust that he’d keep them safe.

The leader is scary. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t even look angry when he’s reprimanding any of them. His voice is a monotone to a point where they wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually a humanoid android. Until one day, the youngest screws up badly, almost costing the entire team their lives. Fortunately, the leader manages to save them, getting them all back to safety.

When he is sure that they are secure, he explodes at the youngest. His fingers bunch into fists, drawing blood from his own palms as his fingernails scrape at the skin. They wonder if he was about to punch the youngest across the face. The Leader’s words are harsh but true, making his junior look at the ground shamefully. One of the other teammates decides that everyone has had enough for today, physically pulling Leader away.

The teammate feels something wet drop onto his hand. That’s when they realize none of them had actually been looking at Leader’s face. His face didn’t read anger, as much as it read fear. His eyes were wet with tears that had yet to fall.

Leader realizes that he’s crying, quickly pulling away from his team to retreat to his room after telling the second in command to make sure everyone is patched up.

In his room, he can’t help but glance at the frame on his bedside. A younger version of himself stands in the centre of a group of five, all of them with their arms around each other, proud of the new stripe the youngest wears on his shoulder. The same youngest that got them all killed.

The youngest member who was now a leader himself, so close to losing his team again.

Leader hadn’t been angry at the youngest, who had tried their best. He had looked down at them, and seen himself. Naive, immature and guilty of killing the people who had loved him.

He cares about his team. Of course he does. But he doesn’t think he’d be strong enough if he were to lose people he loved again. 

[bleedingintogold]

Okay, so to atone for my sin of killing off a character too sadly, I'm pulling a Jason Todd on Leader. Still gonna screw the guy up, no cap, but he comes back! The story will be in a few parts, coz I overcomplicated the plot due to unintentionally hyperfixating on it this weekend when I literally have exams next week.

And uh, it's gonna be a while before he gets his blanket back though. But he gets a name! If you haven't read the first part, here it is.

Leader - Lucca

Right-Hand - Rhea

Medic - Mason

Youngest - Yosef

Engineer - Eddy

Here's part 2.

-----

Safe and Sound

Part 2

Rhea drags her feet as she walks to the graveyeard, heart weighing heavy in her chest. Not even in death could Lucca be left to rest. She had been woken this morning by a call from the cemetry's caretaker. His grave had been disturbed.

Lucca had just been buried for God's sake, Rhea could still feel the cold metal of the handles of his casket in her hands when she had carried her captain to his final resting place. He had been buried for barely two days.

Out of all the graves, out of all the soldiers who had died with him and buried in the same row, fresh flowers still laid on top every stone name plate, not even fully dried out yet. It just had to be Lucca's grave that was disturbed.

But when she arrived, she realized it wasn't just disturbed. It was dug up.

6 feet beneath the soil laid an empty wooden coffin, Lucca's blanket, the handmade blanket they had gently wrapped around his broken body, held together by bandages and tucked under his chin, was soiled in mud, hanging out of the wooden box.

Rhea wanted to vomit as shaky hands pulled the blanket out of the grave.

Lucca had been taken, and by the looks of it, it didn't happen the night before. The last time it rained was the same night they had buried Lucca itself.

-----

Cold.

The only thing Lucca could process right now was that he felt unbelievably cold. He craved a familiar warmth that he couldn't quite remember. The last thing he remembered...what was it?

He then realized that he couldn't move his body, nor could he open his eyes. The first emotion he felt was panic.

"Subject has shown signs of life. Heart has started to beat strongly. Reanimation has been successful," said a robotic voice, giving Lucca a headache as it seemed to be echoing right in his ear.

"Welcome back, Captain Lucca. Let's get you all  fixed up again,"

The voice was familiar, but he didn't have much time to ponder over it when he was hit by a searing hot pain across both his upper thighs and left bicep.

Lucca couldn't scream, as much as he wanted and needed to. His body was completely paralyzed but not a single bit numb to the pain. He could hear the alarming beep of a heart monitor machine somewhere above him.

"These limbs will have to go. The damage is too severe. I suppose that's what you get from walking into a bomb blast. Rather careless of you, really,"

Lucca was conscious for just long enough to feel his limbs being seperated away from his body.

[bleedingintogold]

blanket

A stoic leader's comfort item is a plain blue, kid-sized knitted blanket that he has to bring everywhere if he wants to get any sleep.

It was one of the first presents he received from his team, maybe one of his first presents in a long time. Something that was just grabbed off a store shelf and the team didn't put much thought into, besides the fact that their captain seemed to always be cold and his favourite colour was definitely blue. They had even bought the wrong size because it being knitted meant that it looked bulkier and bigger in the package than it actually was. They didn't expect Leader, who has rarely shown much emotion to begin with, to be so happy when he received it, eyes lighting up like a child opening his Christmas presents. In fact, he's so happy that Right-Hand feels bad for not checking the size because Leader can hardly wrap his torso in it. She considers stealing it back to get it exchanged but Leader had already started sleeping with it. It becomes one of the first things that lets him open up to the team.

Leader doesn't even bother to hide it from his team, rolling it up to hug it during team movie nights. The team never forgets to bring it to him when he's stuck in the medical bay for the night and will throw it back into his room when he forgets it on the couch.

Through the next few years it surprisingly remains in good shape (according to Leader) despite the once bright blue colour being long faded. It's been brought to every damn mission to be cuddled against Leader's body in his sleeping bag. Leader has even mended holes with patches that Youngest bought, none of which match the actual colour. It's an eyesore to everyone but him (and the colourblind Youngest). Since it's also had everything from food to bloodstains on it, Leader washes it a few times a month by hand. Leader had gotten childishly upset when Medic mentioned that maybe it was time to let it go when he noticed wool pieces in one of Leader's wounds when he was cleaning it. The one time he accidentally puts it in the machine with the rest of his bedsheets is when it finally breaks down.

Leader is distraught that he has to leave it behind right before going on a high ranking mission with a more experienced team. His team take the opportunity to fix it for him, salvaging what they can to incorporate the old blanket into a much larger patchwork type piece that Leader could actually cover himself with. Its a team effort where each member does a part each because they want to get it done before Leader comes back, knowing how sleep deprived he could possibly be.

But Leader never gets to see it.

They had waited for him to come through the door, his welcome home dinner on the table and the new blanket neatly folded on his usual seat as a surprise. Instead they had been greeted by a higher ranking officer with Leader's dogtag dropped into the open palm of Right-Hand. The mission had claimed a few lives and Leader had been among the fallen. The team knows that it was a high risk mission, but their Captain not coming back to them wasn't something that they had anticipated.

But Leader does get to sleep with his new blanket. The team make sure to wrap him in it before he's placed in his casket.

-----

This now has a second part and will be continued!

[bleedingintogold]

Leader was quiet as Youngest helped him with his standard attire, redoing his tie and fixing Leader's hair. As she finished, Youngest finally let her eyes glance at Leader's face, immediately regretting it.

There were black bags under Leader's bloodshot red eyes and the dark bruise on his cheek didn't really help his appearance. He hadn't spoken at all since Youngest woke him for the ceremony, stumbling into the common room with his unironed attire and bed hair.

She could imagine what Right-Hand would have said, clicking her tongue as she reminded Leader that a grown man should know how to iron his own shirt. Teammate would have snickered and grabbed his own hair gel to help Leader's hair situation. He'd purposely take too long just to annoy Leader, straightening every strand neatly on the top of Leader's head and flush against his temples. Medic would have quipped about Leader not wearing his ankle brace, telling him that if he dislocated it again, he'd drive home without Leader and have him limp all the home way home himself.

But none of them were here.

They were waiting for Youngest and Leader at the ceremony. In caskets waiting to be buried.

"I-I can't do this, Youngest," rasped Leader, his voice sounding extremely raw and lifeless.

Youngest gently cupped Leader's face, feeling the stubble that had grown from not shaving that week. She tilted his face up to look at her, running a thumb gently across the butterfly bandages that held his cheek together.

"Just for a few hours, Leader, then you can rest," Youngest had never used Leader's name before this, but she needed him to listen.

"We shouldn't have to do this. They shouldn't have-they shouldn't have died,"

"Leader-"

"I was so close, Youngest. I could have-I should have saved them!"

"But you didn't, Leader. And they're already gone," she snapped, just as tired as Leader was.

Leader's gaze faltered, shaking as he surpressed another round of tears. But Youngest had had enough. She grabbed his face roughly this time, making sure he looked straight at her.

"You failed this time Leader, but you've still got another team under you. Another team that needs you. Send off our friends, and put yourself back together, understand? You are a Captain, so you need to act like one,"

Youngest let Leader go, passing him a glass of water.

"Wash your face, no more crying. We're leaving in five minutes, Leader,"

"Okay,"

"Good. Take too long and I'll drag you out,"

[bleedingintogold]

Prompt #1

A pair of boys who are clones of a fallen soldier. The difference is that one is made from DNA while the other is made from data. An android with synthetic parts made to replicate a human and a biological clone. Since the android clone is made first and he's technically already an adult, he becomes the younger clone's psuedo-brother.

They are raised together in the lab and the android clone takes easily to his role as the older brother. But as they grow and develop, the android begins to feel inferior to his human brother. He doesn't understand why the biological clone gets more attention than him and starts to have mixed feelings for his brother. When the biological clone is old enough, he looks almost identical to the android, feeding into the android's hatred for him. But the biological is oblivious to this, still putting his android brother on high pedestal.

What happens when the android realizes that unlike his human brother, he can't die?

-----

Had the random idea pop up but had no further motivation to write a proper story like thing. If anyone wants to use this, please do and maybe tag me in so I can read it too! Could possibly be any genre, whump or not. Change anything as you wish!