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professionalfattener · 6 months

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Sweetie? Can you hear Me? There He is. Okay don't try to say anything yet just let yourself adjust okay? You can open your eyes. Dont panic its all alright. You've just been wallowing in a induced haze for a while now so you might not fully remember. I know it's been a bit longer than we planned but you've been so responsive to your new diet and sedation. You've been happily laying there being pumped full daily for... almost a year now. I'm sorry I didn't stop when we planned but you must remember: You asked for this. You reached out to Me and You asked Me to do this to you. You begged me for it. And now? Well Hunny look! We did it... I did it. It took a long time but we, You finally reached 1000 pounds, I thought we should wake you up a bit and celebrate but maybe it's too much... Calm down its okay. I know youre too weak and heavy to move yourself now. No it's not a dream Piggy Ha! Don't you remember? We worked so hard to fatten you beyond what you dreamed possible but you actually did it and now... well these beautiful consequences are yours to live with for as long as your ruined body has left. Hear that? oh there it goes. Here's your heart rate monitor over on the left. You can't see it? That's okay, your "neck" is just fat chins and cheeks being swallowed by expansive shoulder lard...now I see you can barely turn your head. Goodness. It's okay Baby. I see you're excited! Or are you afraid? I can only tell from your eyes and screaming monitors. Your poor heart works so hard these days. Beep Beep Beep. Do you want to hear it struggling? Hold on its getting to be difficult work for me to even fit my hands under these thick rolls and moobs Hunny. My Stethascope might feel cold. Here. Listen: Thump thump thump. Oh you are excited then I guess. Or maybe hungry? This tube is for your liquid calories we pump into you day and night. You're never hungry.

It's okay. Yes you're all softness and rolls and thick fat now Sweetie. I know it's hard to think. Look around, this is your hosptial room. And look up! Thats You. Shocking I know... Take it in. That swollen mass of lard is... You. Shhhh dont try to speak. Breathe in and out. Let's get you comfy. Thank you for being so good and listening while we got you cleaned up. I know it's a lot. You can try to lift your arms for me? yes. Oh... is that all? Well you haven't used them in along time. Deep, breaths keep going. Is that enough oxygen? Lean back and relax. I know it's a lot to take in. I might have kept you in your haze for a little too long but... you wanted this. You wanted to be this heavy. Now look at you! You're the biggest person in this entire facility you know...it's been a few years since we moved here. You don't remeber at all? Shhh youre taking all in now I know. Look at what a belly youve grown. Bigger then we dreamed. Can you feel this? Your rolls have really stacked up. Your back folds and side rolls are pressing up on the bedrails I know but there are no bigger beds. Does it feel good Sweetheart? Look at me okay? I can see you trying to speak. Whats that? No you can't see them but those are your toes. Wiggle them for me? Good enough I guess. It doesnt matter now does it? Dont look so scared. You asked me for this. Not long now. #deathfeedist #deathfeeder# #immobility ##extremeweightgain #feeder #darkscenario #omgimsofuckedup

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fyodorloveclub · 10 months

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modern au where dazai is a frequent flyer at the hospital you work at, constantly getting into street fights or falling off his motorcycle, just anything that could warrant a quick ER visit so he can see his favorite nurse (you). he’s come in enough times to get a general vibe of your schedule and only comes in on the weekdays he knows you work. you roll your eyes each time, whispering to your coworkers that dazai’s back yet again, but you couldn’t quite help the lingering gazes and fight a smile any time he winked or smirked at you.

dazai wasn’t shy about showing very preferential treatment for you - you were the only one he’d ever let unwrap his bandages and treat the new wounds, also running your delicate fingers over the old scars. he never took his eyes off you as you wiped away the blood and spotted antibiotic cream onto his marred fists and glued together his busted lip after a fight, even memorized the same tune you’d hum each time you got ultra focused on the task at hand - patching him back up yet again.

one night when dazai comes in to the hospital shitfaced drunk and is acting extra belligerent and threatens staff, he’s assigned a sitter for the night - you. you’re the one he likes, and is the least likely to get decked in the face if you get on his nerves. he takes advantage of the fact that you’re stuck with him for the next 12 hours. he slowly pulls you apart, asking way too many personal questions about your relationships and love life, until he has climbed his way all the way to the top.

what began as a somewhat innocent “you’re gorgeous, ya know” turns into “i bet your pussy feels fucking amazing.” and you can reprimand him all you want, deny deny deny all you want, but dazai notices the way you have to cross your legs even tighter in the chair you’re sat in. dazai always notices.

it takes approximately 6 hours, dazai can barely remember how it even unfolded, but now you’re on top of him, blinds shut and a chair shoved under the doorknob of his room, hands wrapped tight around the bedrails as you fuck yourself on his cock over and over and over. scrub pants thrown to the floor and panties pulled to the side, dazai clamps a hand over his mouth to keep from moaning out at how fucking good you feel, what a little slut you are to let your favorite patient have his way with your cunt!

and if you’re walking funny for the rest of the shift, constantly checking the crotch of your pants to see if the cum dripping out of you has finally soaked through the fabric, none of your coworkers say a word. and neither does dazai. until next time :)

#this came to me so suddenly #im typing this on my phone i feel possessed #dazai x reader #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd smut

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stevieschrodinger · 1 year

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Just imagine Alpha Steve after everything that happened. Alpha Steve who was King Steve, not just because of the money and the popularity and everything else that came with it, but King Steve because he was also Alpha. How aloof he kept himself from everything, simply because he knew, deep down, that it was all empty and meaningless and what was the point of being the most popular kid in the school if literally no one actually liked him. Just wanted him because of what he was and what he had and what advantages his friendship gave.

And then, after Vecna, after everything, Steve who had a group of people who knew him. Actually knew him, and suddenly he had pack. Learned what it was to make a family, to have people he would fight and die for because he knew they would do the same. Knew the deep satisfaction of caring for the people in his pack.

Alpha Steve who checks in with everyone. Alpha Steve who has to leave his scent on everyone, every time they part. Even Argyle, despite no one being able to smell it over the weed. Steve who has to mark and protect his people, finds that it soothes his soul. Alpha Steve who always has food in the house, knows the likes and dislikes of everyone of his pups, even if he would never call them that out loud.

When Eddie finally wakes up, Wayne sheds a few quiet tears, puts his book away, gently grips at Eddie's hand and calls him a stupid, stupid, brave boy. Because Alpha Steve couldn't tell Wayne many of the details, but he told him Eddie was a hero who saved the world.

Once he's been checked over and the hustle settles down again, the doctor finally clearing out, Eddie starts to realise why he's relaxed, why he's stayed so calm through waking up.

"Smells like Steve," Eddie says, as every thing comes down and his senses slowly warm back up. There's soft blankets under his fingertips, definitely not hospital cushions stacked around his head. Under his shoulder, comfortably soft, a yellow polo, folded up neat.

"Yeah," Wayne agrees quietly, "he's here...a lot."

"What's all this?" Eddie shifts, finding another shirt and a plaid woolen throw wedged between Eddie and the bedrail.

"Steve," Wayne answers simply.

"I'm not an Omega," Eddie answers weakly, bringing the soft corner of a blanket up to his nose.

"Doesn't seem to matter to Harrington."

Eddie doesn't want to be hopeful, not about this. That way lies heartache, "he's such an Alpha, got his wires crossed. I got hurt, that's all."

Wayne hums quietly in answer, "recon' he wouldn't be scenting stuff like this for just anyone, Eds."

"Nah," Eddie laughs brokenly, "not anyone, just every Omega in Hawkins."

Wayne looks at him, gaze too knowing but full of sad understanding, "still, he's clearly very fond of you Eds," it's a nice thing to say, warms Eddie's chest. And then Wayne completely ruins it, "that boys so territorial of you, reckon' he'd piss on you if he thought he'd get away with it."

And that sets a fire in Eddie's guts. Not the pissing part, because, gross, no, but what Wayne means by it. The implication.

"Wayne," Eddie says, and that's enough, because Wayne's always been good at boundaries and he knows Eddie, probably better than Eddie knows himself.

"He'll be here in a minute, knows I've got a shift. Won't let you be alone if he can help it."

And Wayne just drops that bomb and leaves Eddie to deal with it, like it's nothing. Like it's normal that King Steve has been building a nest around Eddie while he sleeps.

Like they summoned him, there he is, sucking in a shocked breath and dropping the bag he was carrying, "Eddie," it's a soft exhalation of surprise, and then Steve is at his side, pushing Eddie's hair out of his face and shifting his blankets. Steve moves on autopilot while he talks, touches Eddie with a sureness and familiarity that Eddie knows, in his soul, means that Steve's been doing the same while he was out cold.

"I'll leave you boys too it," Wayne says on his way out of the door, and while Eddie looks over and responds with a weak wave, Steve doesn't even acknowledge the other man. Can't seem to look away from Eddie.

"I have more, uhm, stuff, if you're uncomfortable.". Steve pulls more soft things out of the duffel he's retrieved from the doorway, "and..." Two shirts also make an appearance.

"I'm not an Omega, Steve," Eddie says again, like this time he will get an explanation.

"I'm ...very aware of that, Eds."

Eds. Steve called him Eds. He has been spending time with Wayne then. Jesus, they would have talked about him, Eddie would have been the only thing they had in common at the start.

"Right, well, I'm awake, doc says I'll get better, so you don't have to..." Eddie starts to shift, weakly lifts the plaid blanket to offer it back to Steve.

Steve grips the blanket, not letting Eddie give it to him, pushing it back towards Eddie. Steve's grip is white knuckle tight on the material, "I want to. I really, really want to.". And he stares Eddie down like he's desperately trying to make him understand.

"Oh," Eddie says weakly, heart all twisted up. He doesn't know what his face is showing, can't control it in the moment, but Steve, whose scent has always been strong and appealing to Eddie's weaker Beta senses, is speaking loud and clear. "Oh," Eddie says again, like it'll help. Letting Steve tuck in blankets and and generally fuss over him some more, touches featherlight when he tidies Eddie's hair yet again.

"Is that...okay, how do you feel about...this?"

"About us?" Eddie clarifies, he has to be absolutely certain he's not misreading the intention in Steve's scent. He's not an Omega, he isn't built to pick up the nuances, he has to ask. Even if Steve's scent is kind of a battering ram of want and need and longing and fierce protectiveness.

"yeah, about there being an us," Steve looks uncertain in a way Eddie's never seen before.

If this is Eddie's chance to reassure Steve that he's on board, he's going all in, "kind of like I won a gold medal and got to play on stage with Metallica and I saved the actual wold but like...better and all at once."

"That good, huh?" Steve runs his fingers through his hair, hiding his face a moment, all bashful despite the big grin that's split his face in half, "even though I'm an Alpha and you're...people won't approve."

"Fuck people."

"I'd rather be fucking you."

Eddie face flames, he knows it does. He must have had plenty of blood transfusions because he's pretty certain all that blood is in his cheeks right now. Well, not all of it, half of it must go to his dick. As soon as the thought of Steve between his legs, making him wet and opening him up, catches up to him, Steve leans forward. There's a rumble coming from Steve's chest as he nuzzles his face in between Eddie's head and shoulder, rubbing and scenting against his neck.

He suckles, gently, at the skin there. It's enough to get Eddie humming with pleasure and the rest of the way hard. It's a good job he's swamped in so many blankets, otherwise it would be very obvious; not that it isn't, Steve can clearly smell it on him.

"Can I mark you?" Steve asks, hovering awkwardly over the edge of the bed to get to Eddie.

"I'd usually insist you take a girl to dinner first-"

"I'd feel better Eddie, please," there's no way he could resist Steve Harrington being so vulnerable and sincere.

And, Eddie figures, well, what's one more bruise?

#steddie headcanon #eddie munson #steddie #steve harrington #stranger things #post vecna #the party #alpha steve Harrington #beta eddie munson #a/b/o universe #a/b/o headcanon #a/b/o dynamics #local hero wayne munson

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diaperalex · 9 months

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No comparison with my old bed. This is WAY much better!😍

3️⃣0️⃣0️⃣ Notes on Tumblr, and that will become my only place to sleep.

I still sleep in my other bed with padded bedrails.🙈

#adult sized crib

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miss-tc-nova · 4 months

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Stressful - Azul Ashengrotto x Reader

This is another discarded idea from THIS REQUEST that I enjoyed enough to write out more. Kinda enjoying the minis. Anyway, watch octo man run. Lol.

Premise: The Prefect gives Azul some stress

Words: 581

~~~~~

Azul’s quill scritches across the paper, trying to finish this contract before he’s off to see his beloved.

With a slight creak, the door to his office opens and Floyd pokes his head in.

“Hey Azuuuuuuul,” he drawls.

“What Floyd?” Azul keeps his eyes down, eager to be done.

“Are you busy?”

“Yes Floyd. Very.”

The young man leans his head back out of the office and yells “He’s busy!” There’s a muffled response. “No, he’s busy!” By now, Azul’s full attention lies on the absurdity that is Floyd. “Okay fiiiiiiiine.” The eel returns. “So, shrimpy had to be taken to the infirmary and—”

Ink spills across the desk and the chair topples as Azul stands.

“WHAT?!”

Without hesitation, Azul shoves past Floyd, racing through the lounge and straight out of Octavinelle. The poor octo is far from athletic, but he gives it his all as he runs all the way up to the castle and to the infirmary. Even as the door gives way, he stumbles inside, gasping so hard he’s on the verge of passing out.

“Oh, I see Floyd delivered my message.”

Azul ignores Jade as he stumbles towards the bed on which the prefect sits—looking perfectly fine by the way. His knees hit the floor, his iron grip on the bedrail keeping his face from meeting the same fate.

“Azul, are you okay?!”

He can’t even speak past his heaving. Though Jade makes another few jabs at the state of his housewarden, he excuses himself. A few moments pass, but composure eventual reaches Azul again as he stands straight. His grip on the railing is still white-knuckle tight.

“What happened?! Are you okay?! Who do I have to ruin?! I’ll—”

Frantic hands rise, one clearly bandaged. “Woah, calm down! I’m okay. I just cut my hand a little in the kitchen. Jade brought me to make sure I didn’t need stitches.”

Azul’s brain is only just starting to slow down. “The—what were you doing in the kitchen?”

Anxious fingers fidget. “I was helping out in the kitchen.”

“Why would you need to help in the kitchen?” A gentle hand interrupts the nervous behavior, but it only continues with his fingers instead.

“The rush was pretty crazy and the kitchen was falling behind. I didn’t want you to stress, so I thought if I cut some of the fruits and vegetables, they might be able to catch up. But I think I just made things worse…”

The young man stares. He understood all those words, but it takes him just an extra few seconds to fully comprehend the implications of this whole ordeal. Then, soft laughter passes his lips.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

That beautiful, bashful face he could stare at for eons.

“Azuuul…”

“And while I appreciate the sentiment, I’d say that learning you were sent to the infirmary was far more stressful than any dinner rush.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Daring to finally release his grip on the bedrail, Azul draws in his beloved for a gentle kiss.

“I’m just glad you’re not seriously hurt.” Noses brush together as he dons a teasing tone. “Now, shall we return the Octavinelle? I’m going to have to rewrite an entire contract, but I’d prefer to be able to keep an eye on you.” He earns himself a sharp glare. “I’m kidding. But please, I’d appreciate your company.”

He places another kiss, this time on his darling’s hand.

“Fine.”

#gender neutral reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader

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cyraclove · 3 months

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Happy Sunday, have a little hellcheer thing that I needed to evict from my brain:

Eddie is ten years old. He wakes up around the same time he usually does on Saturday mornings and shuffles into the bathroom, bleary-eyed and barefooted.

It’s quiet this morning. There’s no coffee maker gurgling, no newspaper rustling. He doesn’t hear the muffled sound of a newscaster droning on about the weather. That’s weird.

As he runs his toothbrush under the faucet, Eddie thinks back to the night before. His dad had come home late, tearing through the house looking for something. His words were slushy as he stumbled around, muttering something about a suitcase.

Eddie had watched him for a while until he tired himself out and slumped into his armchair like he usually did. He’d still be there in the morning, wearing the same clothes as the night before.

He isn’t, though. Not this morning.

Furrowing his brow, Eddie pokes his head into his father’s room. The bed’s empty, still made.

“Dad?”

There’s no answer, just the soft clink and whir of the ceiling fan above him.

Eddie walks out and into the kitchen, a strange tightness in his chest. Sunlight streams in through the window above the kitchen sink, but there’s not a single light on. Nearly all of the cabinet doors have been left open.

A rusted, red Folgers coffee can lays toppled over on the counter. There are two quarters on the floor right beneath it. Fifty cents, Eddie thinks to himself. Two more and he’d have a whole dollar.

The front door creaks open and Eddie startles, whipping his head toward the sound.

“Dad?”

It’s not his dad. A tall, graying man with a sad, weary smile stands in the doorway. Eddie recognizes him from pictures and a couple of Christmases. He looks older than the last time he’d seen him.

“Uncle Wayne?”

Wayne sighs as he crosses the room toward Eddie. His eyes are wet as he looks down at him. “Hey, kiddo,” he says softly. “Still in your jammies, huh?”

Something icky gurgles in the pit of Eddie’s stomach, the same feeling he gets when he knows he’s done something to make his father mad. This isn’t right.

“Where’s dad?”

Eddie sees Wayne wince, swallowing hard. He pauses, like he’s not sure what to say. “Listen, Ed—“

Before Wayne can finish, Eddie darts past him and all but crashes into the screen door, running out onto the deck. The wood is gritty and wet from the rain the night before. His father’s truck is gone.

Eddie’s face is hot and his eyes sting as he looks around. There’s no one outside but him.

“Dad?”

The wind whines through the trees.

“Dad?”

A dog barks from behind the fence next door.

“Dad?”

Eddie swivels toward the unfamiliar voice, gentle and kind. Machines beep and hum in the background as he stands next to a hospital bed, his clammy hand wrapped tightly around the plastic bedrail.

A nurse in a papery yellow gown smiles up at him as she cradles a snugly swaddled, ruddy-faced newborn.

Eddie’s throat is thick. His voice sounds all croaky when he speaks. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” the nurse chuckles. “You ready to meet your boy?”

The air leaves Eddie’s lungs when the baby is placed gently in his arms, a wiggly, fussy little thing that can’t possibly weigh any more than a dictionary. He’s soft and warm and staring right up at Eddie with big, pale blue eyes.

Eddie turns to Chrissy, laying in the hospital bed looking breathless and beautiful. She’s sweaty and starlit and beaming at him, her lashes glittery and damp.

“A boy?” he asks her. They’d waited to find out. “Did she say boy?”

Chrissy nods, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand. Yesterday’s mascara smears her cheek as she gives him a sniffly smile.

The mattress dips as Eddie gingerly sits on the edge of the bed next to Chrissy, her hand resting on his thigh. She’s all wires and medical tape and hospital bracelets. She’s amazing.

He stares down at the little boy nestled into the crook of his arm, at their son. Chrissy leans her head on his shoulder and his heart feels too big for his ribcage.

“Hey, kiddo,” he murmurs. “Happy birthday.”

#hellcheer #cyraclove writes #fanfiction #stranger things #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddissy #i couldn’t help myself #writers on tumblr #eddie x chrissy

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anlian-aishang · 1 year

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You thought back to the Levi Ackerman you first met: composed, concrete, control. It had been an early morning. Back then, never could you have foreseen, the hot mess he became at night.

How his airy bangs turned dark and damp in sweat - thick black threads clung to his flushed forehead.

The way his veins stood in his hands, fingers shaking in their flexes, clinging to you in dire thirst.

Levi’s voice ascended from its falsely permanent low. It began with close whispers of sweet nothings, interrupted by the sharp gasps and shaky exhales that accompanied your touch.

Abdomen glistened, muscles washboarded, as red-hot blood trickled down to his center.

Toes dug into the mattress. Hands clung the bedrail above your head. Tendons in his wrists cast thin shadows. Calves strained with each deliberate push and pull.

Warm sighs and cold curses rained from above. His body an all-protective shade over you: drenched regardless.

Bedside candlelight casts a kindred glow on his skin. Arid moonlight shines in his hair. Looking into his eyes, you watch him unfold - growing lost in you. In the reflection of his gaze, you see yourself doing the same.

When you arch your middle and roll your head back, his descent turns desperate. An innocent smile and unassuming posture then, there was no sign of that person now.

Screaming your name: your unshakeable Ackerman crumbled.

Digging your nails into his back: his wallflower grew thorns.

The symphony of your settlement fades, gradually replaced by words. Spare and occasional until 3 AM, when you start to solve all the world’s problems.

Except the mystery of your identities: how sun, moon, and sex could completely change the other. How many nights had it been? Yet, you never discussed the dichotomy. Perhaps it was something that could not be solved with speech, but by giving it one more go.

Or another. And another.

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #levi ackerman #anlian writes #2023 #smut #salt and pepper #my writing #alias's

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djdangerlove · 1 year

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To Say It Better, Although We’ve Said It Before

Eddie takes care of Buck during his recovery from the lightning strike.

Buddie Fic | Words: 2K | AO3 Link

There’s a telenovela playing on the TV mounted just above the whiteboard on the opposite side of the room, volume turned so low that only the bass line of dramatic music bleeds into the ambient whir of air conditioning blowing a few degrees too low to be comfortable and the steady beep of the heart monitor ticking away beside the bed. Buck has no idea what’s playing out on the screen considering he doesn’t feel well enough to look given his current state of health, but he can see the theatrical glow flicker across Eddie’s face as he slouches uncomfortably in a plastic chair.

“Your back is gonna feel like shit if you keep sitting like that,” he attempts to say but his voice cracks around vowels and a dry mouth as he buries half his face in the blanket curled over his fists trying to chase away a chill.

Eddie’s sneakers squeak against the tile as his chair nearly tips over in his efforts to right himself too fast, the bed railing separating the two of them the only thing keeping him from spilling out onto the floor. He leans against it, smile soft and skin the perfect shade of sheepish despite the dimmed fluorescents and Buck tries to commit the memory of it passed the haze of muscle relaxers making him woozy.

“I thought you were still asleep,” Eddie says, voice kept low around a yawn as he ducks his head towards the TV and searches blindly for the remote on the bedside table. “Is it bothering you? I can turn it off.”

“Nah, ’s fine,” Buck assures, fingers unfolding from the edge of his hospital blanket to wave off the concern sitting dark and heavy under Eddie’s eyes. The sound goes to mute anyway as Eddie’s hand snakes through the bedrails to prevent him from tearing at the highlighter yellow bracelet declaring him a fall risk and maybe he falls asleep to the slow swoop of the other man’s fingers against his forearm because the next thing he knows he’s blinking awake to gentle pats against his face.

“There he is,” Eddie’s voice curves around a smile and warms the room. Buck feels his face melt into the happiness swirling up above him even while a nurse pokes and prods him and asks the same ten questions as every time before. “Hear that, Bud? You’re still the unluckiest person in the LAFD.”

“She didn’t say that,” Buck protests on the back of a laugh that tugs uncomfortably around his ribs.

“Didn’t have to. Your hospital rap sheet speaks for itself.”

Buck rubs at his eyes in an attempt to bring the nurse with the wrong conclusions into focus, hissing when it just makes his head hurt worse.

“Actually,” she cuts in before anything more can be said on her behalf, clutching her clipboard to her chest with a shrug. “I was just reminding Mr. Diaz here that our frequent flyer program sucks so maybe the two of you could find a new vacation spot next time, hmm?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Eddie nods with a little half-hearted salute that Buck tries to mimic but pokes himself in the nose instead. The fall risk bracelet makes a lot more sense given his lack of coordination at the moment.

“Mr. Buckley, do you need anything while I’m here?”

His hospital room tilts off its axis just a bit when he opens his eyes and he can’t quite get the fingers of his left hand to curl tight enough to make a fist, but Eddie is cresting his thumb over Buck’s wrist bone and despite how every part of him aches he finds himself believing it when he answers, “ ‘m okay.”

The nurse starts for the door, pausing just long enough to remind him to, “Press the call button whenever you need to use the restroom so someone can assist you or Mr. Diaz can help you if that’s more comfortable.”

She’s gone in the span of a few flickers of TV light, silence settling in between the beeps of the heart monitor and the soft snick of the aglets of Eddie’s shoelaces tapping against the floor with the anxious bounce of his knee. He feels sleep folding back over his senses, lulling him into nothingness except for the warm, steady pressure against his wrist when a need hits him hard.

“Shit.”

Worry stills Eddie’s fingers, his shadow blocking the TV light when he leans forward in his chair. “What’s wrong?”

“I’ve gotta piss.”

——————

It takes a few minutes for Buck to find himself steadily perched on the side of his hospital bed and detached from the monitors. Despite the world being blurry at the edges, there’s a dull ache across his body that’s not going away any time soon and Eddie seems set on apologizing for it every few seconds as he tries to maneuver fuzzy, pickle green socks with rubber stops on the bottom onto Buck’s feet.

“This is quite the outfit,” he mumbles, picking at the hem of the hospital gown keeping his knees from splaying wide and wishing someone would be kind enough to bring him a change of clothes.

“You make it to the bathroom in one piece, there’s a pair of sweats by the sink,” Eddie says as if Buck had spoken the request out loud. Maybe he did. “We’re gonna take it slow, okay?”

Buck nods even though Eddie’s still focused on adjusting the socks comfortably around his ankles, smiles when he feels a gentle hand around his calf stopping just before the pressure becomes too intimate.

“Hey. You with me? You look far too happy for someone in a backless gown.”

“ Jus’ thinking how that’s our specialty,” Bucks says around the way his tongue sort of sticks to the roof of his mouth. “Takin’ things slow.”

He realizes a touch too late that it’s an unfair thing to say. Eddie has been the one to put in the work, to find himself in a place where he can reach for the things that make him happy and hold them in his hands. Buck just…hadn’t been able to meet him there, couldn’t figure out how to reach back with the steady grip Eddie deserves.

“Yeah, alright,” Eddie agrees as he stands to hover at Buck’s elbow, fingers gentle as he helps him stand. “Easy. Let’s focus on one thing at a time, yeah?”

Buck takes the first tentative step towards the ensuite with the comforting heat of Eddie’s hand at his back and takes another three before he has to stop to let world spin by, right hand wrinkling Eddie’s shirt from where he grips it too tight, his left shaking uselessly.

“Okay?” Eddie asks after a moment, his thumb counting the seconds with a comforting stroke just above Buck’s hip.

He starts moving forward at a snail’s pace rather than try to steady his breath enough to respond, but Eddie follows him seamlessly until they’re standing in front of the toilet and Buck realizes a little belatedly he’s going to have to sit down just to piss.

“Hey,” Eddie nudges him so that he starts to turn around. “Remember the sponge baths you definitely did not give me?”

Buck laughs into Eddie’s shoulder remembering the exact shade of embarrassment that colored Eddie’s face during that stretch of his recovery while trying to shimmy out of his boxers enough to sit. It’s an awkward shuffle, but eventually he gets seated with as much privacy as he’s going to get from the gown and Eddie hovering back near the doorway.

The TV from the room isn’t loud enough to supply him with audible cover so he decides to supply his own. “Did you know that King George II died on the toilet?”

He’s able to flush before Eddie stops laughing and feels a little easier about letting his best friend help him stand again and get his boxers back in place under the residual amusement coloring both their faces.

“I did not know that,” Eddie says just loud enough that Buck can feel the words in the oily curls at the crown of his head when he has to hug himself to Eddie for balance. Patient hands track the knobs of Buck’s spine through the slit of his gown, stopping just before the points of the Lichtenberg figures fade into the skin of his shoulder. Eddie’s breath is warm against his scalp, cresting over the dull ache in his temples like a slow tide taking sand back out to sea. Buck thinks he could stand here forever if only he had the strength. “I’ve got you,” Eddie promises like he could anyway.

Time trickles by at an odd pace these days, Buck unable to keep track of it much less anything else. His thoughts are jumbled at best, a lingering side effect that most likely will resolve itself with time whenever that evens out, too.

It’s why he asks, “Did Maddie bring by some of my clothes?” after Eddie’s already helped him into a pair of sweatpants that fall a bit too short around his ankles. “Or…your clothes?”

The answer is soothed into his side, Eddie rubbing a hand there as he says, “No, not yet. You’re really not supposed to be out of the gown, but I cleared it with the nurse for the night because you’ve been cold today.”

“Oh,” Buck nods, the memory of Eddie asking that during his regular scheduled noon checkup feeling clunky between his ears. “I…I remember now. Thanks.”

“Of course. You ready to get back in bed?”

“Did I wash my hands?”

Eddie’s fingers ruffle the greasy tufts of hair at Buck’s forehead, replying around a patient smile, “Yeah, bud. You did. Can’t say the same for your hair though.” “There’s only so much Maddie can do with dry shampoo,” Buck groans, tugging Eddie into motion back towards the hospital bed. “When I bust out of here-“

“Carla’s already got it worked out for you to wash your hair whenever you want and Chris helped her pick out the right products for the curls. It’s all in the shower cubby at home,” Eddie assures while waiting to press the call button until Buck’s tucked back in comfortably. He tells the answering nurse Buck’s ready to be hooked back up to the monitors and moves to the opposite side of the bed so he’s not in the way.

Once the heart monitor is keeping track of the only kind of time that matters again, Eddie perches himself on the side of the bed and Buck feels his hand run through his hair in tempo with the slow blinks of sleep tugging at his eyelids.

“Tomorrow,” he says, voice quiet and content in the silence around just the two of them, “I’ll get Maddie to convince the docs you’re ready for soap and water, okay?”

Buck grins enough it dimples his cheek. “I love you.”

Sleep evaporates with a quick little blip of the heart monitor and if Buck hadn’t literally been struck by lightning he’d think that’s what letting this little bit of information slip feels like. Damage control is slow and incoherent off his tongue with a “No… no, no. Wasn’t supposed to say it like that.”

He thinks he can hear Eddie laughing again, but his heart is too loud where it beats in his stomach, his ears, his toes. “How were you supposed to say it?”

“I..” and Buck doesn’t really remember, knows he almost didn’t get to say it at all, but thinks he’d rather not have said after sitting down to pee.

“Well, sure. There are more romantic ways to say it than that,” and shit. Buck really hopes his brain to mouth filter starts working within the next five seconds, that’d be great. “But you’re acting like we’ve never said it at all.”

“What?”

Even with dark circles of sleepless nights and days old stubble, Eddie is beautiful when a peaceful sort of happiness washes over his face. “I think we’ve been saying it for a while now, maybe just in a roundabout way. A little guarded, so I’ve been told.”

Buck reaches for Eddie’s hand, curling his fingers as much as he can to hold it but when it’s not enough he decides to trace the ridges of his knuckles with the pad of his thumb. “I…I want to keep saying it. Saying it better though, because…you deserve to hear it. To feel it.”

“Buck,” Eddie breathes his name as he falls forward enough to rest his forehead over the pounding of Buck’s heart in his chest. “Your love is the loudest thing I’ve ever heard and when I…when I thought I couldn’t feel anything…I still felt that.”

“I love you,” Buck says, with purpose this time and a gentle kiss to the crown of Eddie’s head and just because he can.

“And I love you.”

#buddie fic #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fox

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mobilityshop · 7 months

Text

Redefining Sleep with the Parnell Premier Bed Rail

In the realm of sleep, independence is a precious commodity, especially for those navigating the challenges of aging or limited mobility. The Parnell Premier Bed Rail emerges as a beacon of hope, a guardian of safety, and an enabler of independence, transforming bedtime from a daunting task into a moment of tranquility.

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The Parnell Premier Bed Rail isn't just a tool for safety; it's a testament to impeccable design. Its sleek, contemporary lines effortlessly complement any bedroom décor, seamlessly integrating into your personal aesthetic. This fusion of style and functionality ensures that your bed remains an oasis of comfort, not a reminder of limitations.

Versatility Knows No Bounds

Whether you're nestled in an electrically adjustable bed or find solace in a traditional domestic bed frame, the Parnell Premier Bed Rail adapts to your needs. Its versatility extends to a wide range of bed types, including wooden frames, steel frames, pine beds, and divans. This adaptability makes it a universal solution, catering to diverse preferences and bed configurations.

A Pillar of Strength, A Symbol of Support

The Parnell Premier Bed Rail isn't just a presence; it's a dependable companion. Its sturdy construction, crafted from high-quality materials, provides unwavering support, instilling confidence with every step. The secure attachment mechanism ensures that the rail remains steadfast, minimizing the risk of falls and fostering a sense of safety and security.

Independence Reclaimed, Quality of Life Enhanced

With the Parnell Premier Bed Rail, the fear of falls no longer casts a shadow over your independence. You regain control over your daily routine, reducing reliance on assistance and embracing a newfound sense of self-reliance. This empowerment translates into an improved quality of life, fostering a sense of well-being and vitality.

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The Parnell Premier Bed Rail is more than just a product; it's an investment in your peace of mind. It provides the confidence to navigate your sleep routine with ease, knowing that unwavering support is always within reach. This investment in your well-being is a testament to your commitment to a safe, independent, and fulfilling life.

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Don't let the fear of falls dictate your sleep patterns. Embrace a secure and independent sleep experience with the Parnell Premier Bed Rail, empowering you to navigate bedtime with confidence and ease. Wake up each morning refreshed and energized, ready to embrace the day with renewed vigor.

Explore the world of grab bars for beds and discover how you can transform your sleep experience.

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hells-greatest-performers · 10 days

Note

Lucifer, HUSK IS IN LABOR

Husk Gives Birth

Written by @bunny-is-cute

The dimly lit corridors of the hotel echoed with Husk's strained breaths and pained groans as he clung to Lucifer for support. His body was wracked with contractions, each wave of pain more intense than the last. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his grip on Lucifer's arm tightened with each step.

"Hang in there, Husk," Lucifer urged, his voice a rare mix of concern and determination. Despite his usual air of indifference, there was a palpable urgency in his movements as he guided Husk through the twisting halls of the hotel towards the infirmary.

"I don't know if I can do this," Husk gasped, his voice strained. The contractions were relentless, leaving him no time to catch his breath. Every muscle in his body screamed in agony, and fear gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. He'd been through a lot in his life, but nothing had prepared him for this.

"You don't have a choice," Lucifer replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "You're stronger than you think. Just focus on breathing."

Husk's vision blurred, and he stumbled, his legs threatening to give out. Lucifer caught him, his grip steady and reassuring. "We're almost there," Lucifer promised, though Husk could barely process the words through the haze of pain.

Finally, they reached the infirmary. Lucifer helped Husk onto the bed, the soft surface a slight relief from the relentless contractions. The medical staff sprang into action, preparing the necessary equipment and medications.

As another contraction hit, Husk cried out, his back arching off the bed. The pain was all-consuming, a fiery wave that seemed to last forever. Tears streamed down his face, and he clung to the bedrail, his knuckles white.

"Lucifer... I can't..." Husk's voice broke, the words barely a whisper. The fear and pain were overwhelming, threatening to drown him.

Lucifer leaned in close, his eyes locking onto Husk's. "You can. You have to. Focus on me, Husk. Just keep looking at me."

Husk tried to concentrate on anything, but he could only think about how this hike last year he was by Angel’s side as Freya was born.

But Angel wasn’t by his side now.

The contractions were coming faster now, each one more brutal than the last. Time seemed to stretch and blur, a torturous dance of pain and fear.

Hours passed, though it felt like an eternity. Husk was exhausted, his body and spirit pushed to their limits. The medical staff encouraged him, their voices a distant murmur in the background. Lucifer never left his side, his presence a constant anchor.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the pain reached a crescendo.

“PUSH HUSK! PUSH!” Lucifer cheered in.

Husk screamed, the sound raw and primal, as he bore down with the last of his strength. The world seemed to shatter around him, the pain reaching an unbearable peak before suddenly, blessedly, it broke.

A baby's cry filled the room, sharp and clear. Husk's body went limp, every ounce of energy drained from him. The relief was so profound it brought fresh tears to his eyes.

The medical staff moved quickly, tending to the newborn and Husk with practiced efficiency. Lucifer squeezed Husk's hand, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. "You did it, Husk."

Husk could barely respond, his body trembling with exhaustion and relief. He watched through half-lidded eyes as the nurse placed the tiny, wailing bundle in his arms. The baby's cries softened as it nestled against him, and for a moment, the world outside the infirmary ceased to exist.

"You did it," Lucifer repeated, softer this time. "Both of you are safe."

Husk looked down at the baby, his heart swelling with a fierce, protective love. Despite the pain, the fear, and the anguish, it was all worth it.

#husk gives birth #hells greatest performers au #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #husker #husk #baby is born #doodle by me #new HuskerDust baby #huskerdust baby #the fanfic and blog have differences #fan fiction #fanfiction #huskerdust family

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nescaveckwriter · 5 months

Text

Paintbrushes And Romance 🥰🐞 - Part 10

Dean x Fem/Reader

Part 10🥰🐞

A/N: Are we getting closer to the grand finale?! - Also side note - I've made a Spotify playlist, with all the songs of this series, I'll add the link... Much love, my bugsies 🥰🐞... Also can I just give thanks too my brother for helping me remember about 'Bobby' 😋

Warnings: violence, horror, cold, swearing, gore, blood,🙈

...

The raindrops is glistening against the window, cathing the street lights and throwing a rainbow of colours against the dark wall. Reaching over, searching, for your body, to pull you closer, hold you tightly, you get cold so easily, trying to reach a little further, a intense shooting pain in his chest, eyes flying open, confused and in a daze he looks around, its not your bedroom its a hospital room. What the hell! Dean look's to his upper torso, remembering, the look in Jack's face when he pulled the trigger. All of the sudden this amount of fear rushes over him, the message, you! He recites your name like its a prayer. Pulling the blankets off of him, he swung he's legs of the bed, standing up, just to crash down to the ground.

Frustration clear on his face, pulling out the IV out of his arm, and tugging at the other cables. The sound of the monitors flatlining is enough to alarm the night shift staff that, there's a code blue.

He pushes, himself up, steadying himself with one hand on the bedrail, walking towards the bedside table, he needs to get out of this hospital gown. He's legs feels heavy, and his chest tight, his breath a little restricted as he's ribcage feels like its been cracked. He pushes through the pain, almost there, he bite's his lower lip.

The staff comes running in, ready to resuscitate him again. To their surprise the large man with his broad shoulders is standing. The one nurse, tells the other one, go get his brother. She comes closer towards him, speaking in a calm voice she tells him to get back in bed.

He's emerald green eyes, turning a darker shade, almost hazel like. When he says , the hell I am! His voice filled with pain and more gruffy than usual. Being the stubborn man he is, opening the drawer, searching for clothing, noticing the chain with the diamond ring, taking it out, and sliding it over his head, so that it can be close to his heart again.

Sam run's towards his brother, man your awake he says, hugging him tightly. Dean now only balancing himself in this brotherly hug, he starts to speak, in a low voice, have you found her, where is she?

Sam's voice filled with regret and sadness. Not yet!

Dean's voice breaking, all he can get out is a heartbreaking no! While his legs gives in.

Sam's holding his brother up, his body feeling heavy, Sam, sits Dean down on the bed, gesturing him to take a few moments. You need to build up your strength man, Sam says with a concerned voice.

The hell she must be going through, Sam, Dean's voice is filled with pain and exhaustion. How long, has it been he asks, not really wanting to hear the reply, he looks at Sam searching his eyes.

Biting his lip, its been seven man, we haven't found any evidence, of where she could be, the deputy's took a look at the butcheries that you guys raided the last time, but not a single trace!

Anger and concern flashes in those green eyes, useless bastard's, he shouts.

Sam just looks at Dean, not really knowing what to say, just saying in a low voice, we'll get her, but first you need to get your rest, seeing Dean's about to resist his suggestion, he says even if its just for tonight, we can figure something out in the morning.

Seeing Sam's nodding for the nurse, and feeling the pinch of the needle prickling his skin, hearing her say, there you go, you'll start to feel calmer in a few minutes.

Sam, helps the nurse, to adjust Dean onto the hospital bed. Dean's eyes started to feel heavy, whispering your name, over and over again, till he's eyes are shut completely.

...

The last thing Luke said, was look what you made me do, while dragging you into the middle of the cage, you heard the steel door close.

Excruciating pain, that pulses through your upper thigh, awakens you abruptly. What, the hell? You see, Luke hunching over another man, in the cage, fix her, he shouted angrily.

The voice of the old man, sounded tired but familiar, when he said se needs a doctor. You open your eyes wider, you gasped for air, when you see its Bobby, you'll recognise that ball cap anywhere, the fire in your voice makes, both men turn around and look at you, leave him alone Luke!

Ha! Fix her! This isn't over. He shoves the old man closer to your side. I'll get the supplies, don't try shit! Or I will start taking her limbs apart right now, he says while looking at Bobby.

Bobby, shuffle's closer to you, he's voice breaking, my sweet girl, I'm so sorry, I didn't know he had you too.

Your eyes as big as sources, me too? He had you all this time aswell? Bobby just nods, the damn bastard took me by surprise.

He came to the scrapyard, looking for parts, when I turned the, damn idjit hit me behind the head, I were tied up in a cage like this one, for about eight days. When he came rushing in, claiming you needed help.

You look at him, the old man's face a bloodied mess, I'm so sorry, your voice revealing the pain your in.

He's eyes filled with concern when he said we have to stop the bleeding aswell as the infection but its going to hurt babygirl.

It's okay, you said, trying to put up a brave face. I.. uhmm... Do you know about Dean?

Bobby let's out a sigh, I do, with sadness in his deep voice.

They get interrupted by Luke handing Bobby a lighter and a open bullet casing filled with gun powder.

Luke comes closer to you, knife in his hand, distorted look in his eyes, he takes ahold of your pants cutting the fabric exposing the open wound. Taking off he's belt, saying with a emotionless voice, you're going have to bite down on that. Ready old man? Bobby's eyes shoots up at you, with concern.

You just nod trying to make your voice stronger than you feel, I'll be alright you say, not fully grapshing the pain your about to experience.

You bite down on the belt, Bobby's one hand on your leg holding it in place, and the free hand tapping the powder over the open wound, you hear Bobby telling Luke to hold you still.

Luke takes ahold of your shoulders pushing you firmly against the bars. You moan a bit, it stings you think.

You hear the flicking of the lighter switch, Bobby bringing it closer to the open wound.

It sounded sort of, like the 4th of July fireworks that got lit up.

Your screams bouncing off the factory walls, between the screams and shaking, you can hear Bobby saying something, but nothing makes sense, it burns like hell! You feel the pain immersing throughout your body, and then complete darkness.

....

Morning came and Sam walked in with coffee, only to see Dean already dressed, Sam opened his mouth to say something, but Dean put a stop to it, saying I don't want to hear it, the way I see it is you've got two choices, either you help me, or leave me the hell alone, but I'm walking out of hear today, and I don't have the freaking energy to fight you too. Sam handed him his coffee without saying a word, he just nodded, they proceeded to get everything, packed. Walking towards the exit, Dean glimpses over his shoulder, back to the hospital hallway, thanking whoever is above for waking him up, so that he can save the one, he loves more than life itself.

.....

Your eyes starts to slowly open, the rays of the sun, and the birds chirping let you know its morning. The moaning sounds that escapes your lips, when you try to sit in an upright position, let's Bobby know your awake.

"Hey sweetheart, here, have some water, are you okay? How do you feel?"

You take the bottle of water, taking a few sips and quenching the thirst you had. Thank you, Bobby, saying while smiling, still tired and groggy.

"Your going to feel like shit for a while, you lost a lot of blood, and your body suffered a big trauma, his face with concern, his voice low and deep with outlined exhaustion.

Hey, Bobby, Don't look so worried, your girl's though, a little laugh escaping your lips.

I know sweetie, but, I'm tired, he runs his hand over he's face.

I know, me too, but we are two against one, we can overpower him and run, saying with hopefulness in your voice.

Bobby gets up form his sitting position, how? You can barely stand, and as for me , I don't have the strength in me anymore.

Don't say that Bobby! Your voice sounded more angry than you anticipated! We have eachother and we will get through this together.

Walking towards you, sitting down next to you, your right sweetheart, I'm sorry, I'm just exhausted.

I know, I understand, but I won't stop fighting till my last breath. While lying your head on his chest, you saying in a low, painful voice, Bobby, I'll keep fighting, but I'm scarred... Scarred where not going to make it out of here, Scarred that he would win, silently sobbing now, I'm just scared.

"I know sweetie, he says, with despair. The two of you, just sit there, holding on to eachother for dear life.

....

Its been three days since Dean started his search, but still nothing, where the hell did the bastard take her, and where the hell is Bobby? Damnit! He hits the table, the papers getting tossed up in the air, he moans a little, when he feels the sting of the not fully recovered wound in his chest.

That's it! I'm going to see Jack! He says to no one really. Taking his keys, and jacket he walks out of his house, whispering underneath his breath if only you could return to me darling.

"Sam made sure, Jack would be locked up for what he's done. Jack's sitting in the cold room with only a table, and a one way mirror, knowing someone is probably behind it watching him, his face fills with surprise, shock and guilt, when he sees the large man enters through the door. Sheriff he exclaimed! I'm... He strutters.

Dean's voice sounded urgent and heavy. Stop! I know why you did what you did, hell maybe I would've done the same, but I'm not here for that! I need to know, have you seen the bastard, can you describe him, do you know anything damnit?

Jack flinching at the anger in his voice, yes he says, with regret visible. When I handed him the file, we met up at an abandoned road, outside of town, he drove a yellow car, almost like a cab!

What the hell! Dean basically screaming now, and you didn't think of telling anyone, what file damnit, speak up!

"I.. um.., Jack stutters" Dean looking him dead in the eyes, he's voice loud and full of anger speak damnit. "It's the file of the kidnapped girl, of ten years ago, Jack's says shakily.

Dean kicks the chair, it's all connected somehow, he's anger rolls over his lips. Looking at Jack, describe him now!

"He's in his late 30's maybe early 40's ordinary looking, I'm so sorry I was worried about Julie, I didn't really take everything in, he says apologetically.

Damnit Jack! Dean says running his hand over his face. Moving the chair away from the door, walking through it, he can hear Jack's mumbling something, but he doesn't care for the first damn time he's gotten some hope that, he could find the bastard.

After searching through the database, for what felt like hours, Dean had it figured out, Luke Fisher, is a registered cab driver, and the brother of the late Mike Fisher. This is all about revenge Sammy he says, while leaving a voicemail, he must be in court.

The black chevy impala, is parked a little across the street, he checked with the taxi services, Luke is working today, Dean just sat there waiting for him to clock out for the day, knowing he'd go right back to were he kept you, he waited patiently.

There he is, Luke gets out of the cab, walking towards the office, after a while he comes back, that's when he saw it, Luke's face was bruised, a little smile tugging at Dean's lips my girls a fighter he thinks. He starts the impala, when he sees Luke driving off, tailing him, saying "I'm coming baby, hold on, I'm coming...

#spotify #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #jared padalecki #jensen ackles x reader #sam and dean #benny lafitte #castiel spn #dean winchester imagine #eileen leahy

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suspicious-whumping-egg · 8 months

Text

Collector’s Bounty: Part 3

Masterlist here. Enjoy!!

Splitting, blinding agony yanked Jackson back to reality. It felt like he’d been shot in the side, sixteen rounds of lead all rapid-fired into one throbbing nightmare. He gasped for breath, but his chest seized in protest as he choked on a mouthful of plastic. A massive tube had been forced down his throat, protruding deep into his chest and scratching at his lungs, which were forced full of air just seconds later. He gagged, thrashing helplessly against the restraints and letting out a strangled cry at the fresh stabs of pain the movement sent through his body.

“More propofol,” he heard Aris order sharply, and he was dimly aware of a blunt pain in his arm, a thick substance forced through an IV. His head swam. The air was sucked from his lungs, and he coughed so hard his head began to pound.

“At least while we extubate him. Don’t want him damaging those lungs, especially if we decide to take one later…”

The words slid into each other, fuzzy and distant as the drugs overcame him once more. But this time, he was glad for it.

He faded back into consciousness, the next time, rather than the sharp, sudden lucidity of the hour before. His side pulsed uncomfortably, but the sensation lacked the agony of before, dulled to a slight ache. And the tube was gone from his throat. He could breathe. He sucked in a greedy lungful of air, even as the breath burned his sore throat, and tried to sit up. His head spun from the mere effort, and the wound protested fiercely, its dull ache turning into a throb, and he was forced to slump back down. But he could move his shoulders now, at least, push himself up on his elbows even while his wrists remained immobile— although now he was handcuffed to the bedrails of a cot, instead of strapped to the operating table.

He took a wary glance around, relieved to find he was alone in a small cell. It was bare but for the cot, the IV stand next to him, and the monitor beeping steadily as his vitals flashed across its screen. A sensor was clipped to his finger, a few layers of tape wound around it. As if he’d try to take off the only thing that would make sure his captors kept him, at the bare minimum, alive. An IV protruded from his opposite arm, likely providing whatever pain medication was taking the edge off the horror he’d woken up to the first time. It, too, was taped. As if he’d want to rip out the only thing keeping him from utter agony.

The flimsy white blanket covering him, however, was not taped onto him. And it was also the only thing Jackson wanted off. Some part of him needed to see the incision, in its fresh, ugly red glory. He needed to know it had all been real. Because until the blanket came off, he could hold onto the last shred of hope that Aris or Ryder had possessed the tiniest scrap of decency that prevented them from finishing the job.

He kicked uselessly at the thin cotton, only succeeding in getting the fabric tangled in his legs. A sob wrenched from his chest, and with it, a fresh stab of pain shocked itself down his side. The dam had broken and he cried with reckless abandon, tears streaming from his eyes down the sides of his face. His head began to pound in unison with the raw wound in his side, and all he could do was sob harder, until he was gasping for breath amidst dry, helpless cries. His tears had half-dried in a sticky film on his cheeks, and he couldn’t even lift a hand to wipe them away. Couldn’t even move enough to elbow the stupid fucking blanket across his face.

He heard the sound of a latch and flinched, furiously blinking away the last of his tears even though he knew nothing could hide his red-rimmed eyes and tearstained face.

“Aww, you’re really that upset to see me?” Aris smirked. “I’m flattered.”

“Fuck off,” Jackson mumbled halfheartedly, wishing he could at least pull the flimsy blanket over his face to demonstrate his disinterest.

“No can do,” Aris interjected cheerily, spinning a small keyring around a finger and bending down to unlock his handcuffs. “I gotta make sure you get up and walk around a bit.”

“It’s literally been— what, two hours?” Jackson protested. “Why do you care, you got what you wanted anyway…”

Aris shrugged. “Longer than that. We kept you in a drugged little stupor— and keep in mind, that comes out of my paycheck— for a bit so you wouldn’t be screaming those expensive lungs out. Maybe 12 hours? A little less? And even after we took you off, you slept maybe another eight. And the rest is doctor’s orders, love, I don’t make the rules. Ryder’s in charge of the med stuff, not me, and he told me to take you for a walk.”

Jackson’s head still pounded from the force of his earlier sobbing, but he gave a resigned nod, even as a shudder wracked his body at the thought of how much else they could have done to him in twelve hours. What else they could have taken. “Can I at least have something to put on then?” He managed weakly.

At that request, Aris raised his eyebrows with a smirk. “There’s no reason for me to not keep you naked now… but I’m feeling nice. So only if you beg for it.”

“What?” Jackson sputtered before he could help it. “I— I mean please. Please let me have clothes…”

Even saying the words drew burning red humiliation to his face, and he could barely suppress a twisted huff of laughter as the beeping on the monitor grew faster and faster with his panicked heart rate. Here he was, thinking begging would really make a difference. He’d seen how Aris had looked at him. How he enjoyed his power over him and nothing else. There was no use playing along.

But Aris’s grin only widened.

“Oh come on, if you say it like that, it’s like you don’t even really want it. And you do, don’t you?”

“I— I— no— I do— please just— please— aah—” Jackson stammered incomprehensibly, a fresh stab of pain in his side and his dizzying embarrassment clouding any rational thought he might have been able to force out.

Aris surveyed his flushed face, the way his eyes squinted at the pain from the incision, and he nodded. “I suppose I can reward effort, even for as terrible of a job you’ve done,” he digressed. “I’ll be back.”

As soon as the door’s lock slid into place, Jackson ripped the blanket off with his newly freed hands, eyes squeezed shut. He had to look, but at the same time, he couldn’t bear to.

Fuck it.

He wrenched his eyes open to find a swath of bandages around his torso, a bit above his left hip, and two smaller bandages scattered between his chest and stomach. He sat up, a wave of vertigo swimming through his head, and leaned over to grip the edge of the largest bandage. He took in a shaky breath, tensing on instinct, and ripped.

A thick, ugly cut marred his skin, haphazardly stitched together with black thread. Nausea gripped his gut, and he slapped the bandage back on, a weak cry escaping his lips as pain stabbed over the wound once more. Fuck.

He grabbed the thin pillow off the cot, pressed it to his face, and screamed, side throbbing from the effort, until his throat was ragged. The scream tapered off into a fresh wave of sobs, even as he tried to choke back the tears. He had to make a break for it while he was unrestrained. Before they took anything else. But he could barely sit up, let alone stand.

“Yeah, yeah, scar’s gonna be pretty bad,” Aris mocked, voice cutting nonchalantly through his cries. “What, did you think we’d change our minds?”

Jackson flinched, the pillow slipping from his fingers as he backed against one corner of the cot, curled against a bedrail. He wiped his face on the threadbare blanket and didn’t dare say a word— he didn’t trust himself not to start sobbing all over again.

Aris shrugged. “Well, not my problem. Think you can dress yourself?”

He nodded shakily, even though he doubted it. Even if he could manage to pull on a pair of pants, managing to get a shirt on while the IV was in would likely be an impossible task.

A soft bundle hit him square in the chest, and he unraveled it to find boxers, a pair of black sweatpants, and a ripped undershirt. He couldn’t help but be disappointed he hadn’t been given his old clothes back, but mostly, he was just glad to have anything at all. He waited for the dizziness to abate before slowly rising to his feet, legs buckling under his weight. He gripped the bedrail like a lifeline while he tugged on the boxers one-handed, relief washing over him with just the one bit of dignity.

“Yeah, yeah, Ryder didn’t want me to give your old clothes back ‘cause of germs or evidence or fingerprints or some shit, I don’t know,” Aris added with a shrug at his disappointed expression, eyes annoyingly fixed on Jackson’s body. “You sure you don’t need any help?”

Jackson grit his teeth, swaying dangerously as he struggled with the sweatpants.

“I’ve got it,” he bit out, even as his vision edged with black from the effort of standing. The second he finished tying the waistband, he collapsed back onto the bed, feeling just as exhausted but a little more human. He reached for the shirt with shaking hands, even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to get it on. Not by himself. He’d either have to ask for help getting the IV out, forgoing the only medication he might be given at all, or withstand going shirtless.

He sighed. “I’d rather keep the IV in.”

Aris smirked. “I don’t mind getting a better view if you insist,” he teased, stepping towards the cot and holding out his arm.

“Now, up you go. Come on.”

Jackson couldn’t help but groan.

“I’m not gonna make it very far,” he protested weakly. “And aren’t you supposed to rest after surgery?”

“If it’s a nephrectomy, nope,” Aris said cheerfully. “Unless you wanna get blood clots and die after all this. I don’t really care, at least then I get the extra cash from selling a fresh heart.”

Jackson grimaced just at the idea, ignoring Aris’s outstretched arm and stabilizing himself on the bedrail as he forced himself back upright. “Fine,” he grumbled, legs wobbling beneath him.

“Ya gotta let go of the bed,” Aris added. “Not much of a walk if you stay in the same place now, is it?” He held out his arm again, a hawk waiting patiently to strike.

And Jackson could do nothing but take the bait. He took a shaky step, half-falling into Aris’s shoulder as he grasped his wrist with the last reserves of his strength.

And out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the grin that spilled over Aris’s face.

Taglist: @burntcoffeewhump @onlywhump @whumplr-reader @gala1981 @its-my-primary-whump @andithewhumper

#collector’s bounty #blue writes #aris #jackson hawthorne #organ harvesting whump #medical whump #whump writing #carewhumper

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aquietwritingcorner · 3 months

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You Weren't Supposed to Get Hurt

Title: You Weren’t Supposed to Get Hurt Day: Febuwhump Day 13 Prompt: You Weren’t Supposed to Get Hurt Fandom: TMNT 2003 (Fast Forward) Word Count: Author: aquietwritingcorner/realitybreakgirl Rating: T Characters: Cody Jones, Starelee Hambrath, Agent John Bishop Warning: Summary: Cody quietly walked into the hospital room, and looked down at Starlee, who was laying so very, very still on it. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to get hurt. But she had, and it was all his fault. Notes: does no one else wonder what happened to Cody when the guys went back to the past? Because I do. That can’t have been easy for him. ff.net || AO3

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You Weren’t Supposed to Get Hurt

Cody quietly walked into the hospital room, only the slight stutter to his entering step giving away the hesitation he had in coming in. Machines beeped and holoscreens showed readings of the figure lying in the biobed. Cody approached the bed, contrite as he looked down at Starlee, who was laying so very, very still on it.

Starlee wasn’t supposed to be still. She wasn’t supposed to be quiet either. Starlee was supposed to be full of life, zooming from one place to another on her skates, and giving him that look that said she knew what he was up to, and that she had a backup plan. She wasn’t supposed to be lying in a bed, unconscious, with a head injury that they weren’t sure the effects of.

Her parents were on their way. It would take them a couple of days to get here, but Cody had made sure to book them the fastest transportation that he could get. Telling them that their daughter was seriously injured had been the hardest thing he’d ever had to do, especially since it was his fault.

Cody stood at her bedside and grasped the bed rail.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt. You weren’t even supposed to be there. I thought—I thought I could handle it. I know… I know my training isn’t as good as the guys was, but I thought that I knew enough, that I had learned enough that I could handle things and… I was wrong.” He swallowed, “And you paid the price for it.”

He suddenly sat heavily in the chair that was next to the bed, not even looking at Starlee, but instead staring down at his hands.

“I… I didn’t know what else to do. Uncle Darius is a wanted criminal. The guys and Master Splinter have gone back to the past. Serling fell in with them. So, I thought… when this problem came up, I thought…”

Cody closed his eyes and leaned his head on the bedrail. For a few moments, he said nothing, letting the silence envelop the room.

“I thought that you didn’t know, or that I had fooled you, but you were the one that had me fooled. You came back, because you knew I was doing something dangerous, didn’t you? My plan was going to fail, but you saw that and came up with a solution. And it worked. It worked Starlee. But I would have rather it not worked or got hurt myself then have you get hurt.”

Cody looked up again, staring at the very still, very quiet Starlee.

“I’m so, so sorry, Starlee. You weren’t supposed to get hurt.”

A subtle throat clearing caused Cody to look up and over towards the doorway. President Bishop stood in it, and for a moment, Cody just stared at him, before he realized that he should probably stand up. But Bishop didn’t seem to mind, just gestured for Cody to stay seated, and walked further into the room.

“I heard what happened,” he said. “I thought that you might want to know that all of the Dark Turtles are in custody.” Bishop looked down at Cody. “Technically, you are the closest thing they have to family, so guardianship falls to you.”

Cody looked up at Bishop for a moment, and then back down at Starlee. “I…I’m not sure what to do. After all, they’re the reason that Starlee is—I just wanted some fam—It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” He cut himself off from anything further and took a minute to gather himself before he looked back up at Bishop. “Can they stay where they are for now? Just until I get this all figured out.”

Bishop nodded. “For a few more days, yes. But they can’t stay forever.”

Cody took a deep breath. “I know,” he said.

Bishop reached a hand out and put it on Cody’s shoulder. “You might want to know that the Blue One asked me to pass on a message to you. He said that he didn’t mean for the girl to get hurt.”

Cody blinked back up at Bishop, taking a moment to process those words. “Thank you,” he said after a moment.

Bishop nodded, removed his hand, and then turned to leave. “Mr. Jones. The government thanks you and Miss Hambrath for your help in capturing these dangerous criminals. We can only hope that rehabilitation will be successful.”

Cody blinked at Bishop “Yeah,” he finally said. “Rehabilitation. I—that sounds like a good plan.”

Bishop nodded. “You should also know that Miss Hambrath’s family will be slightly delayed due to a report of the invasive scablen beetles on their next shuttle,” Bishop said. “They are being transferred to a different shuttle, one that was bringing experts in various medical fields to Earth for a symposium. Fortuitous how that happened.”

Cody’s breath caught as he realized what Bishop was saying, but he slowly nodded his head instead of saying anything. “Yeah, it is fortuitous,” he said.

Bishop walked towards the door again, but then he paused, and turned around. “Mr. Jones. You are… aware… of my more sordid past. Perhaps not all of it, but in more detail than many people. If I have learned one thing in all of my years, it’s that improper training is often worse than no training. I’m not saying that the Splinterson clan trained you improperly, but that you haven’t learned your limits and how to implement it yet. However, if you would like to continue your training and learn how to implement it properly, then I can open certain avenues for you.” He nodded his head towards Starlee. “It might prevent things like this from happening again.”

Cody nodded slowly. “I—thank you, Mr. President. I’ll probably take you up on that offer.”

With a final nod, Bishop left, and Cody turned his attention back to Starlee. He stared at her for a moment, before reaching out and picking up her hand.

“You weren’t supposed to get hurt,” Cody said. “And I never want to see you get hurt again, Starlee. I’m going to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again.”

And if that meant he was going to throw himself into new training, work on rehabilitating the dark turtles, and put every bit of O’Neil Tech’s influence and money behind Starlee’s recovery, then that’s what he’d do.

Because this? This could never happen again.

#Febuwhump2024 #FebuwhumpDay13 #TMNT #TMNT 2003 #TMNT 2k3 #tmnt fast forward #TMNT Cody Jones #TMNT Starlee Hambrath #tmnt fanfic #tmnt fan fiction

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