#Mac whump

[squidkid15]

If you’ve been here long enough you’ll remember I have a soft spot for pet whump. 

Anyways core mac is very pretty-

[purrgilpawkins]

Needle + Thread

Summary: Mac needs his wounds stitched up. Unfortunately for him, he and the team are in the middle of nowhere without painkillers. (Also available on AO3)

Pairings: Jack Dalton & Angus MacGyver, Riley Davis & Angus MacGyver

Part of the Comfortember 2020 series Prompt: Campfire

Warnings: non detailed wound stitching

Notable tags: H/C, stab wound, field medicine, hurt Mac, caring Jack, caring Riley, Mac whump

The sound of the crackling fire was the only thing heard amongst the chirping crickets, the chattering of Riley’s teeth, and Mac’s ragged breathing. At least, it was all Jack could hear, which was a good thing for the most part.

They had to set up camp in the woods to lay low and wait for exfil. Unfortunately none of them were wearing appropriate attire to be camping during November, which left them all a little on the chilly side. Jack and Riley could handle it but they were both worried about Mac, who was currently bleeding out thanks to a gash on his belly when he decided it’d be a good idea to get into a knife fight with someone.

They’d started on building a small fire immediately and Jack was on a constant lookout in case anyone decided to bother checking out the smoke. Riley was doing her best to make sure Mac was warm and comfortable.

After doing another sweep of their makeshift campsite, Jack walked over to them and sat on the other side of Mac, “How you holdin’ up?”

Mac lifted his bloody hand from his wound and shook it, giving Jack a glare.

“Right. I guess you’re doin’ a little bad.”

Mac replaced his hand and groaned, “Understatement.”

“Well, good news,” Jack rummaged around in his jacket pocket, “I have a needle and thread here, so we could stitch you up real quick, if you want.”

“Why’d you pick up a needle and thread?” Riley piped up.

“You never know what weird shit Mac’s plans may call for. Good thing those terrorists were hiding out in an abandoned crafting supply store, huh?”

Mac groaned as he sat up to inspect the needle, “Yeah, I think I can do without the tetanus. Or the pain that comes with sewing up a wound with cotton.”

“Oh, I know not to use cotton, hoss. That’s why this thread is actually silk.” Jack showed Mac the end of the thread, a sticker that was labeled 99¢ with “SILK” just under the price.

“Whatever. Don’t want to do it.”

Jack frowned and turned to Riley, “What’s the ETA on exfil, Riles?”

Riley grabbed Jack’s wrist to look at his watch, “Two, maybe three hours.”

“Alright so it’s either extinguishing or risking tetanus and I’d rather take a risk than watch you bleed to death, hoss.”

“Okay, first,” Mac grunted, “it’s ‘exsanguination’, second, tetanus could just as easily kill me.”

“Yeah, but by the time you get it we’ll be back home and not in the middle of nowhere.”

“And that’s still if you get it,” Riley added.

Mac let out a long and pitiful groan, “Fine.”

“Besides, you’re more likely to get an infection.”

“Riley,” Jack whispered harshly, “why would say that after he just agreed to gettin’ patched up?”

“Come on, Jack, he already knows the dangers this might bring, right Mac?”

“Yep.”

“See.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jack started to stick the thread through the needle while Riley helped Mac lay back down. After much trial and error, Riley eventually took the needle from Jack and stuck the thread in the first try.

“Need to bring your reading glasses next time?”

Jack fake laughed and took the needle back from her. He moved to Mac and started to lift up his shirt, “Now, you know this is gonna hurt like hell.”

Mac gave Jack a pleading look, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Jack sighed, having zero desire to hurt his kid, but knowing this’ll help in the long run, “Okay.” He positioned the needle under the gash and Mac squeezed his eyes shut before Jack pulled back, “Wait, hang on a sec. Hold this.” Jack handed the needle to Riley and started to unbuckle his pants.

“Um.”

“Don’t make it weird, dude. It’s just something for you to put in your mouth.” Jack stopped, Riley groaned, and Mac face-palmed.

“Way to make it weird, Jack.”

“Shut up! You know what I’m talkin’ about!” Jack angrily wrangled with his belt then handed it to Mac. He waited for Mac to fit it in his mouth and got the needle back in position when Mac gave him a thumbs up.

The needle pierced Mac’s skin and he inhaled sharply. Were the needle bigger than a sewing needle, the pain likely would’ve been worse. He briefly thought that this was nothing, it was something he could handle, but it pierced again and he couldn’t deny that it hurt.

He flinched at the next poke and Jack brought his free hand up to rest on the blond’s stomach. The delta gently brushed his thumb on Mac’s skin, hoping that his touch offered some kind of comfort when Mac flinched again. Riley took Mac’s hand in hers and didn’t protest when he squeezed it a little roughly. They both do their best to help Mac ride out the pain as Jack finished stitching him up.

The second Jack said “done”, Mac spat out the belt and goes to sit up but the hand still on his stomach prevented him from doing so.

“Whoa, hey, slow down there, hoss. This thread was designed to keep clothes together, not human skin.”

“As opposed to other kinds of skin?” Riley said. Jack gave her a look and she raised her hands in a shrug as Mac let out a quiet laugh.

“What I’m saying is, take it slow cause it’ll probably come apart real easy.” Jack removed his hand but Mac remained flat on his back.

“In that case,” Mac huffed, “I think I’m gonna sit here for a while.”

“Hey, you do what you gotta do, man. We gotcha.”

Riley moved to lay down beside Mac, hand still in his and Jack started to take off his jacket. The oldest agent placed it on the youngest, despite his protests, and laid down on the other side of him. “Don’t want you catchin’ a cold to go along with that possible infection.”

“It’s not even that cold.”

“Then why’re you shaking, Mac?” Riley asked.

Mac sighed and accepted his fate before leaning into Jack’s warmth and squeezing Riley’s hand.

The three basked in the comfort of each other’s presence as the fire continues to snap and pop. The woods are cold and uncomfortable and the youngest of them is suffering through a stinging pain in his side but there was no place he’d rather be than next to his family.

[finnarcher7]

[goodnquiet]

Eyyy long time no mac whump

[whumped-up]

“Mac?”

Mac smiled a cold, crooked smile (wrongwrongwrong) and cocked his head slightly.

“Think again,” Mac said, mocking, as his eyes turned black.

You can read my possessed!Mac fic here!

[saintsurvivors]

For one, single weak willed moment, Mac wants to call out, to crawl to where Jack is no doubt sleeping soundly and with no want to be disturbed, especially with something like this. 

Mac even opens his mouth, calling “Jack?” softly. 

To his mortification and dismayed relief, his voice cracks half way through, scratchy and soft with his near tears. He presses his mouth shut tightly, hand clamped tightly over his lower face, short nails biting into his cheeks even as sparks ignite from his wrist, surging down his forearm, into his fingers. Mac chokes down the tears, his own needy selfishness that has him wanting to disturb his partner, and instead takes quick, uneven exhales through his nose, heedless of how it has his ribs aching beneath bruise tender skin, trying so desperately to hide his noises, to stop the tears he can feel burning across the bridge of his nose, falling off his face to wet his pillow.

[sun-ni-day]

~~ I never got over those blue eyes ~~ ~~ I see them everywhere ~~ ~~ I miss those arms that held me ~~ ~~ When all the love was there ~~

MacGyver 5x05 Jack + Kinematics + Safe Cracker + MgKNO3 + GTO

[anguishmacgyver]

[aceofwhump]

Character on TV show: "He's lost too much blood. Unless we can get him out of here, there's nothing more we can do."

Me:

[echo-goes-mmm]

Anniversary Present (Oneshot)

My Writing Masterpost

Warnings: slight dubcon, manipulation, minor character death, blood, past stalking

“I’m hungry,” complained Victor. 

Henry glanced at the vampire, then into his side mirror. “I’m driving.”

“So pull over.”

“I can’t,” he protested. “There’s no place to park.” They had circled the lot once already, but there were no spots. If Victor hadn’t insisted on spending the weekend at the beach of all places, this wouldn’t have happened.

“It’s a Friday evening on a holiday,” he explained. “It’ll be a while.” Victor grumbled, but at least he seemed placated. 

It had been three years since Victor ‘claimed’ him like some sort of stalker, and Henry hadn’t been able to shake him. Now he was stuck with Victor, and sometimes he could fool himself into normalcy. Like some kind of fucked-up sitcom. See the vampire and his unwilling roommate, every evening at 7pm on FOX! Or something. Henry didn’t watch cable.

“Look,” said Victor, “there’s a spot.”

“Finally,” groaned Henry. Another car came down the aisle, and he put on the turn signal and waited for them to pass so he could pull in. But instead, the BMW swerved into the spot, nearly dinging him in the process. Asshole.

Victor hissed. 

“Don’t,” Henry said. “It’s literally okay.” 

Victor sighed. “Fine.” 

Eventually, they found a spot in another lot, but there was a fee. Henry grumbled as Victor drank an evening snack from him. What a jerk, and of course it was a BMW. Brand new, too. Henry thought of his 20 year old beater and tried not to be jealous.

Whatever.

Victor had made reservations to a nice restaurant on the boardwalk for the two of them, which was hilarious. Victor could eat human food, it just did nothing for him except taste good. He was always dragging Henry to fancy places.

The perks of having a rich vampire eat off him, he supposed.

Victor disappeared after paying for dinner, with a promise to meet him at the rental later. Typical. 

But Henry had a little cash to burn, and the boardwalk was fun. He ate frozen custard (peanut butter and chocolate) and looked at ridiculously priced swimsuits on sale. He watched people come in and out of novelty stores, and got himself a box of saltwater taffy. It was nice, he thought, as a charming family went into the amusement park.

Of course, the downside to this little vacation was Victor. He was going to do something this weekend, he could feel it. 

Henry was a snack, a little amusement that Victor liked to keep under his thumb.

Henry hated when Victor dragged home a meal.

He shuddered, the warm night air suddenly suffocating. He took another bite of his frozen custard and told himself not to think about it.

He got to the rental house hours later (after somehow mixing up where he’d parked) and Victor was there as promised. 

“So,” said Victor, “there’s this cute little diner in town. We should go there for breakfast.” 

“Yeah, sure.”

Victor frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I guess. Just tired.” 

“Oh. Well, the bedroom on the right is yours. Goodnight.” Suspicious.

“‘Night.” The drive was pretty draining, so Henry fell asleep quickly.

___________________

Victor dragged him to the diner around nine. He looked a little funny dressed in pants and a hoodie in this weather, but it was sunny out and, well, vampire.

Henry woke up in a much better mood than yesterday. He ordered a short stack of blueberry pancakes with a side of sausage and it was divine.

Victor bid him a good day after breakfast and went to sleep. Henry took the opportunity to spend the rest of the day at the beach. It was a great weather out, and he swam in the ocean a couple times before making it back to the rental. He even splurged and got some barbeque from a place on the boardwalk for lunch.

But soon the sun would be down, and Victor would be hungry. He headed back to the rental house.

After the feeding, he was more worn out than usual. He hadn’t been on a vacation in a while, and he’d forgotten how tiring it was to relax. He went to sleep soon after.

___________________

“Henry. Hey, Henry!” Victor whispered. He groaned and sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. 

“What?” Victor’s red eyes glowed down at him. Victor flashed him a toothy grin. He glanced at the clock. Midnight. And why could he smell pizza?

“I got you a present.” 

“Huh?” 

“Just come see!” Henry stumbled into the living room and flipped the switch.

“Oh my god!”

A guy was tied up and gagged in the middle of the floor. Pizza boxes sat on the table, with a bunch of booze and soda. The man made a frantic sound from behind the gag.

“What the fuck?” he said. Victor flopped on the couch. He titled his head and grinned.

“It’s the man who cut you off earlier. And I also got dinner and that novelty soda you like. The one that tastes like sour candy.”

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Fuck. Again? Victor had never been caught before, but this was insane. 

Why was his life like this? Ugh. Whatever.

He crossed the room and took a slice of pizza. It was amazingly good, actually. It really was true that the best New York style pizza was in New Jersey. He ignored Mr. BMW struggling against the ropes.

He twisted off the cap to the soda and some vodka. He was gonna need it. Henry turned back to the scene to see Victor teasing Mr. BMW. Muffled shouts came from behind the gag.

Henry knew how scary it was, seeing a vampire for the first time. But he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. It was normal, now.

“I think he wants to say something,” grinned Victor. He plucked the gag from Mr. BMW.

“I- I’m so sorry,” he said, looking back and forth between them. “Please don’t kill me!” he sniffed. Henry shifted, uncomfortable.

“You’re not sorry,” snarled Victor, “You’re just sorry you got caught. Nobody gets to be an asshole to my human. Nobody.”

“It’s just a parking spot, Victor. Not a big deal.” Victor turned to him. He shrank back. 

“You don’t get to decide that,” he said. 

“What-”

“I’m making your life better. Remember that boss you hated? I took care of it. And now you don’t hate your job. This is for you, Henry.” He yanked the man’s hair, baring his neck. 

He sank his teeth into the man, drinking long and deep. Henry’s mind whirled. Had Victor really been killing off everyone who was mean to him? 

Victor finished, the man’s head lolling. 

“Look at him,” purred Victor, voice husky. “He’s still alive. Think he’ll chalk it up to a dream, or pass on to the next life?”

He came close, blood smeared over his mouth. He stepped right up to Henry, taking his chin in hand.

Henry whimpered.

“Don’t be scared,” cooed Victor against his lips. Victor kissed him, copper on his tongue. 

What was happening?

Victor pulled away, pupils blown. His cool hand came to rest on his ass.

“Victor-” he started, but for some reason he couldn’t, didn’t, pull away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. A curl of heat smoldered in Henry’s gut. “Three years,” continued Victor, “and I never told you that. Isn’t that strange?”

“Ye- yeah.” Victor pressed a kiss to his throat, mouthing up to just under his jaw.

“Wait-” he said, regaining himself. Victor paused, pulling away. “All those restaurants, all those presents, were- were they-”

“Dates? Yeah,” admitted Victor. “You needed a stronger hint.”

Fuck. He’d seen the way Victor looked at him, the way he waited in the car under a blanket for hours just for Henry to get off work. He thought it was just hunger, and it was, but it was more than that. And Victor was attractive, and mostly kind-

The dying man behind them groaned.

And it was too much. “I don’t want this,” he whispered. Victor stepped away, turning from him.

“Please,” said Henry, “I’m sorry-”

“No, you’re not,” said Victor. His heart sank. Victor was finally going to kill him. 

But then Victor turned, and he didn’t look mad at all. 

“It’s okay,” he said, stepping close again. And his eyes, they were so pretty now. So big and deep, and what was he thinking about? “You just need a little nudge.”

Oh yeah. 

Victor was attractive, and mostly kind, and took him to places he never could have afforded and-

He snorted. His life was already so goddamn weird.

“Sure, why not? It’s not like you’re going anywhere,” said Henry. “Might as well make the most of it.”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” agreed Victor. 

Victor kissed him again, and they fumbled their way to the couch. He wanted Victor, and he wanted him now, witness be damned.

The man was dying anyway.

___________________

Henry woke up the next morning in a great mood. Last night was just… incredible. It was so obvious, he couldn’t believe he missed it.

He snuggled back into Victor’s cool arms. 

Sure, it was fucked up, but who cared? Victor was hot and financially stable (aka rich as hell) and took care of him.

It just made sense.

Maybe he could get a nice car if he asked Victor.

___________________

He was a genius. Just a little nudge. Wasn’t even cheating, really. Charming never worked for so long.

Henry still had his personality the whole night, so it didn’t even count as Charming him. Just a tiny, itty bitty nudge, and his precious little human had finally given in to his wooing. They had a wonderful night of pizza, drinking, and sex. 

So good.

Draining that pesky little boyfriend four years ago had finally paid off. 

He was an asshole anyway.

taglist: @paintedpigeon1

[squidkid15]

overdue for casual whump sketches

[purrgilpawkins]

Fire + Work

Summary: Mac tries to light some fireworks. Bozer helps clean up the mess. (Also available on AO3)

Pairings: Wilt Bozer & Angus MacGyver

Part of the Whump Advent Calendar 2020 series Prompt: Fireworks / Explosions

Warnings: n/a

Notable tags: fluff, humor, first degree burns, aloe vera usage, best friend banter, caring Bozer, Mac whump

It was a suspiciously quiet night at the MacGyver-Bozer residence.

Mac was out on the deck working on something or another and Bozer was chilling inside, sitting in front of the island texting Leanna in the rare, pleasant silence. He laughed at her most recent text and started typing out something back only to be interrupted by a muffled explosion outside. Bozer looked to the deck and saw smoke and fire filling the windows. Quickly grabbing for the fire extinguisher on the kitchen counter, he ran out the back door and immediately ducked to the ground at the sound of another explosion.

“Mac!” He yelled out, waving a hand in front of his face to try and see better through the smoke, “Mac, you okay?!”

“Yeah!” Mac called from the other side of the deck, “Oh hey, watch out for the fireworks!”

“Thanks for the heads up!” Bozer let out an unmanly screech as another firework went off, littering the wood floor in more sparks and flames. Lucky for them they were only loud enough to cause some ringing in the ears.

Boze looked up from his place on the steps leading out to the deck and examined the battlefield. The smoke seemed to originate from the doohickey Mac was working on over by the end of the railing leading into his room. The thingamajig was currently on fire and didn’t look like it would stop anytime soon. It also didn’t help that a box of fireworks, the same fireworks that were going off, was sitting near the flaming contraption. It was a wonder how they hadn’t all gone off yet.

After looking around the deck a little more to determine the path of least resistance as well as find Mac’s place in all this, Bozer had a plan. That plan involved jumping out from behind the small set of stairs, releasing a battle cry as he does so, and running straight to the burning doodad, pulling the cord from the extinguisher and yelling in panic the whole time he put out the flames. All in all, a good plan, apparently, seeing as it worked.

He doused the fireworks, just in case, and set about putting out some of the smaller sparks as he made his way to Mac. “Hey man,” Bozer coughed, “you good?”

Mac lay flat on his stomach, his head turned toward Bozer, “Yeah, I’m doing pretty great down here.”

Bozer looked to Mac and did a double take at the lack of a back to his shirt, “You sure? Cause it looks like your wardrobe got hit pretty bad.”

“Oh, you mean my shirt? That’s totally fine.”

“Mac,” Bozer said pointedly. He placed the extinguisher on the deck and walked over to Mac, helping him up and leading him to his room while doing his best to not aggravate Mac’s back.

“Boze, the deck--”

“--Can wait while I make sure you still have skin on your back.”

Mac sighed as Bozer helped him into his room and sat Mac down on his bed before turning on the lights.

“Okay,” Bozer started, clapping his hands together and rubbing them, “let’s see the damage.”

Bozer gently placed his hands on Mac’s shoulders and turned him toward the light. The only thing that could be seen was pale skin covered in soot and ash. Bozer hummed.

“Think I’ll live?”

Bozer brought his hand up to scratch at his scruff, “I don’t know, man. I can’t see much of anything back here thanks to all this ash. Maybe I should call Jack down here, just in case.”

Mac reached for his phone that he left on his nightstand before Bozer could even think to grab it. “Please don’t do that. It’s probably a first degree burn at worst.”

“How would you know? You can’t see it. I can’t see it.”

“Yeah but I can feel it and trust me when I say I’ve had worse, Boze.”

Bozer laughed, “Well, I guess if anybody would know about burns it’d be you.”

Mac laughed with him, “Yeah, and I know that some aloe would probably work great right now.”

Bozer pondered for a moment, “Are you sure I shouldn’t call someone who actually knows what they're doing? What if it’s a third-degree burn and you don't feel it ‘cause all your nerves got burned off?”

“Bozer, I’m fine. I promise. If you call Jack all he’ll do is hover and worry and I know you’re already going to do that so no need to raise the old man’s blood pressure.”

“So that means you get to raise my blood pressure?” Bozer scoffed in mock offense. “Whatever. I guess I know who your favorite is,” he fake sniffled and Mac rolled his eyes fondly.

Bozer dropped the act not a moment later and went to help Mac back up. “Look, how about we go clean you off and if it looks that bad, I call Jack. Deal?”

“Deal, now where are you taking me?”

“Uh, the bathroom? Duh.”

They slowly made their way to the bathroom and Bozer deposited Mac on the edge of the tub. He walked to the sink and turned on the faucet, waiting for the water to warm up, as he grabbed the bottle of aloe vera lotion from its place under Mac’s sink.

Deciding that the water was at the appropriate temp, Bozer nabbed a washcloth from the shelf above the toilet and soaked it. He scuttled toward the tub, trying and failing to not drip water all over the floor, before sitting down beside Mac. Bozer then rang out the cloth into the tub (“Why didn’t you do that at the sink?” “Don't question my methods.”) and began wiping down Mac’s back.

Bozer whispered, “Damn, Mac, you’re covered in so much ash, I’m surprised those fireworks didn’t cremate you. Good thinking on my part for wanting to clean you up a little.”

Mac huffed a laugh, wincing slightly at the ministrations before Bozer handed him the mostly clean side of the washcloth.

“Got some on your face, too.”

Mac got to work wiping down his face, surprised at the black trace it was leaving on the cloth, as he heard the snap and splurt of Bozer readying the aloe. “You’re looking good back here, man. Guess we’ll save the old man from another potential heart attack.”

Mac winced again as the cool sensation hit his back and he found himself trying not to lean back into it rather quickly.

“Instant relief, huh?” Bozer questioned.

“Oh, yeah,” Mac sighed.

They sat in silence a moment before Bozer asked, “So what exactly was…all that?”

“Oh, uh, I was trying to make something that would automatically set off the fireworks. Y’know, so we wouldn’t have to keep getting up to light them.”

“Well, I think it works.”

“Yeah, probably should’ve made sure that it was in a state to be tested before I, you know, tested it.”

“Uh, yeah, Mac. Probably should’ve.” Mac smirked at Bozer’s sass.

Just as Mac felt he might fall asleep from Bozer’s almost massage, Bozer took his hands from Mac’s back.

“Alright, think we’re done,” He said, getting up from the tub and heading to the sink to wash his hands.

“You think? Did you not thoroughly slather me up?” Mac quipped, standing up and stretching out his shoulders.

“Oh, I know I slathered you up, thank you. It doesn’t get more slathered up than you do right now.”

Mac held his hands up in defense, “Alright, alright. I’m slathered.”

Bozer then took the hand towel off its hoop to dry his hands and Mac tossed the blackened washcloth in the dirty hamper.

“So,” Bozer started, wrapping the towel back on its hoop, “ready to assess the damages?”

Mac sighed, “Lead the way.” He held out a hand toward the bathroom door and Bozer gave him a determined nod.

They both walked in silence out toward Mac’s room and onto the deck, both sighing dejectedly at the sight of what was left of said deck.

“I say we burn the rest of it down,” Bozer joked. “Would probably be cheaper to buy a new one.”

Mac sheepishly rubbed the back of his head, eyeing the scorch marks and burnt wood covered by the foam of the fire extinguisher. “Yeah, probably. Sorry, Boze.”

“Eh, it's cool. I’m used to it.” Bozer gave Mac a grin and Mac couldn’t help but give him one back. “And hey, it looks like some of the fireworks survived! Could still salvage them for new years! They’d just be a little…foamy.”

“Yeah. Or maybe I could use the leftovers for an actual test at my automatic firework lighter…”

“Angus Jackson MacGyver, don’t you dare.”

[finnarcher7]

Chapters: 6/6 Fandom: MacGyver (TV 2016) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016), Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Riley Davis, Matilda "Matty" Webber, Wilt Bozer (MacGyver TV 2016) Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Jack Dalton Whump (MacGyver TV 2016), Angus MacGyver (MacGyver TV 2016) Whump, Hurt Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Hurt Angus Macgyver (Macgyver TV 2016), Torture Summary:

Mac and Jack find themselves all tied up after a successful mission, thanks to the betrayal of an anonymous traitor at the Phoenix. Lots of Jack and Mac whump.

[goodnquiet]

"We have no need for a coward who refuses to fight and still pretends to be a warrior."

[justplainwhump]

Mac

A short character intro of some sort, for the character that has lurked in the background of Adrian and Blanca's story since their very first chapter. The sixth guard dog.

[Pet Safety Masterlist]; this piece is referencing [Favor].

Content / warnings: BBU, (indirect) dehumanisation, captivity, briefly referenced/implied noncon.

In the nights in his cell - or kennel, rather, he didn't know why but there was a difference and it made his stomach uneasy - Mac had a lot of time for thoughts. And he used it. He thought about fights, about technique and strategies, about his opponents and their strengths and weaknesses. He thought about winning, about the feeling of triumph, and how stale it was. Like the tasteless, grayish mass that came from a dispenser in the kennel wall, a viscous nutri-shake, that fell into a stainless steel bowl welded to the floor. Victories in his fights were just the same. Bland, insipid, and utterly necessary to survive. 

Mac pulled down the lever and watched more of the nutri-shake fall into the bowl. Sometimes he thought about how long he'd have to hold it down until the room would be flooded. Sometimes he wondered, if the person he'd been before would've known how to calculate it. The pet he was now sure did not. He stared down at the food below him, let himself sink to his knees before he bowed down to eat it. He'd never been further from being a person.

He'd been allowed to eat at a table, real food, with taste and consistency, back at his owner's place. He'd had the others to talk to, Guards, like him. They hadn't been what people called *friends*, he wagered, at least he hadn't actually liked them, but they had existed together, shared a life and the dedication a common goal - to keep their master safe and satisfied. They hadn't been friends, but in lack of better terms, they'd been a pack.

Here, everyone like him was an adversary, who'd fight him to the death the next day or another. And those not like him were the ones who didn't care about if the others died, or Mac did.

It was exhausting. A feeling that wasn't going to bring him anywhere. That was why when Mac had time for thoughts, he didn't think too much about his pack. 

He thought about his owner.

—

Jack Donnell took great pride in his belongings, and that had always included his WRU-trained Guards. Six of them, all of the same height, featuring the same dark hair, same broad shoulders, same mannerisms. He employed a retired WRU Guard handler for some hours a week to make sure the Guards worked like one. He also bought the consulting services of a WRU Romantic Trainer - not for the Guards to be involved directly, but to make them part of intricate designed "scenes" that Mac learned to hate.

Jack wanted to be a ruler, a conqueror, and every once in a while he loved to dress his Pets up in accurate costumes, only to make them submit to him in every scenario possible.

Mac had endured. He'd been a good pet. Until the day a new business partner of Jack's had shown up with his Romantic.

Blanca.

Blanca was petite, with the sort of auburn hair that could look dark brown in one moment and light up like fire in another, with a seductive sway to her hips, full lips that curved into a knowing smile and clothes so tight they left nothing about her curves to the imagination.

Hot, Mac knew he was supposed to think. 

He didn't. 

Please spare her from this, he'd thought instead and closed his eyes. Prayed, almost. As if he knew, how to. 

As if there was a God who'd listen to a pet. No. Their only Gods were their owners.

And while her owner had all but fled the room and left his subject in the hand of another, Mac had stayed by the door, standing at attention, while he watched his master brutalize her.

It took hours.

And after Jack was done, he'd simply smiled to himself, sauntered towards Mac without another look at the broken figure of the Romantic behind him, and patted Mac's cheek. "Good boy," he'd said, and left. 

That moment had been the first in Mac's conscious life, that he'd felt something a Pet was never supposed to feel.

He'd felt hatred. Plain, pure, seething hatred, for the one man he was supposed to love. 

He'd felt it every day since.

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[dinosaurswant2rule]

For the whump prompt ask list:

🪷 breathless fear, wide eyes, terrified anticipation of what will happen next...

I have no idea when you asked this and I'm appalling at answering these for sure.

I also don't know if this was what you had in mind?

But after a huge cluster fuck mind blank and much thinking this is what I came up with

Jack was trapped in that tiny room. Well not trapped quite, he’d raced inside, desperate to escape the guards. He had been driven a bout of insanity and fear and his brain not quite functioning. When he had seen Mac’s body drop, something short circuited in his head,  he’d seen the hostages too, heard them screaming and then started shouting to get the guards attention and well it had worked. He had started to run, his lungs were still burning. His heart was pounding as he’d finally found a tiny place to be temporarily safe. Everything had stopped, the footsteps, the rain of bullets, the flying bits of the walls all coming at him. It had all stopped and he was not safe. 

He felt sick and ashamed, he’d seen his friend’s body drop and he’d run the other way. Dalton had no idea if the hostages had even made it. It had been a stupid, stupid plan, not even a plan, a half-baked, it was so stupid that it wasn’t even a scrap of an idea, half an idea. Nothing. Jack took a few deep breaths, spouting gibberish in his head would not help. He leaned back against the stone-cold wall and continued to breath in and out, long and slow, or at least as slow as he could manage. He realised at some point that he was shaking, he was frightened and cold. That was shock though, he knew that, difficult and scary events produced shock and that in turn produced side effects like shaking. Lack of food and sleep probably didn’t aid the whole shock thing, he knew that too. 

Finally his breathing improved and the pain in his chest improved, but the shaking didn’t stop. Now he had slowed down, he also realised that the noise of the outside was at full volume, he could hear guards, plenty of soldiers, lots of men with more weapons than he had all yelling and swearing in a variety of different languages. The level of cursing, in exhausted hysterical state he found himself smirking. Who knew there were so many different ways to say fuck? 

The rest is on HERE on AO3