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whiskey-tango-matcha · 1 month

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Then & Now (M, cold)

Hiii, hope you like A LOT of hurt followed by 2-3 sentences of comfort lmao. This is Greyson fic - Grey is sick on a day he and Reed are supposed to have a date, and he's sure Reed is going to be angry with him because Trauma(TM). It's told in a flashback sort of format which I really enjoyed because I love writing blurbs of colds at different times in life lol. I hope you guys like it, please let me know what ya think, good, bad, or otherwise :)

CW: Male snz, cold, pneumonia mention, coughing, contagion mention, lots and lots of whump lmao. A little over 4K words under the cut.

Then & Now

Now

“Morning, Chef.”

“Huh-! HhITSZHH-ue!”

Elijah turned towards Greyson, who was doubled over into his hoodie sleeve, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “Cooks finally pulled you under, hmm?”

“Ugh, like way fuckin’ under,” Greyson muttered, rubbing his eye and sucking in through his nose. “I feel like ass.”

“Sorry, dude,” Elijah said, tossing his counterpart a box of tissues. “Sucks.”

Greyson caught the box and pulled out a few just in time. “HITSZHZH-uhh!” This one, he managed to catch in the handful of tissues. He wiped his nose and shrugged. “Yeah,” he said, tossing the used tissues. “Mbostly because I was supposed to have a date tonight.”

Elijah smirked at his friend, who was pushing past the GM into their shared office. The two of them sat in unison. “Do you guys still call them dates? You’ve been official for, like, six months.”

“It’s our six-month anniversary,” Greyson said, his voice flattened by congestion. “We were going to do EMP.”

“Awww, now I’m depressed,” Elijah said. “Also, why didn’t you tell me earlier you were going to Eleven Madison? I still know people there.”

“So does Reed,” Greyson said, massaging his temple. “That’s why we were goigg. Fuck, mby fuckin’ head is pounding. Do we have any -?”

Elijah placed the ibuprofen in front of the chef before he could ask, along with a bottle of cough syrup and a decongestant. “You know we have it all,” he said, pushing an old cup of water across the desk for Greyson to swallow his arsenal of pills. “And fair enough. Well that fuckin’ sucks, dude, I’m sorry. Hey, at least you can leave early, right? Matt’s closing?”

“Yeah,” Greyson said, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it in his mouth. “I’ll head out once the rush is over. I still have to text Reee – hh...hhNTSHH-ue! HGTSHH-uhh!” Greyson doubled over, sneezed into his arm, and groaned. “I’mb gonna kill the guys when they get in,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Don’t do that,” Elijah said, placing a hand on Greyson’s shoulder on his way out of the office. “Then you’ll have to stay all night.”

Greyson huffed out a laugh and pulled out his phone. He clicked on his conversation with Reed, sighing. He did not want to have this conversation.

Greyson

9:31AM

hey babe. gonna have to cancel tonight, the cooks infected me w their plague :( im rly sorry.

The chef set his phone on the desk, prepared to either be ghosted or gaslit – two of Collin’s favorite pastimes whenever Greyson had had to cancel their plans during their relationship – and was shocked when the phone buzzed with a text almost immediately. He was almost afraid to look at his boyfriend’s response.

Reed

9:32AM

Oh, baby don’t be sorry!! what time are you off? I’ll pick you up and take you home :) we can do a sick day little date night instead!

Greyson stared at the phone, stunned. He couldn’t help it; he read the message again, then out loud said, “What the fuck?”

Then – Ten Years Ago

“Chef?”

The Executive Chef looked up from his paperwork at Greyson and sighed. “What is it, Abbott?”

“I, um – hh! HTSHH-uh! HGXTSH-ue! Snf. Umb, I just wanted to see if it was okay if I… left a little early today?” Greyson asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His chef raised his eyebrows and put his clipboard down. Oh, no, Greyson thought.

“Leave...early? And leave your clean up and prep to whom, exactly? Me?” The Executive Chef huffed out a laugh. “That’s rich, Abbott. Why the fuck would you need to leave early?”

“I…” Greyson started, but his voice gave out on the single syllable. He attempted to clear his throat. “I just… I really feel like shit? I was hoping I could, like… sleep it off, I guess. I mbean, I wouldn’t want to get anyone else sigck.” Greyson felt a cough bubbling to the surface; he tried to quell it, to no avail. The younger man collapsed into a coughing fit that felt like it lasted a lifetime.

The Chef remained unmoved. “My guys,” he said, placing a hand on his chest as Greyson attempted to compose himself, “don’t get sick, Abbott. And if they do, I don’t fucking hear about it. Understand? Because I really don’t give a shit. If you’re here, you’re here. If you decide to leave early,” he shrugged, uncaring, “then you leave for good. And Abbott, if you try to get a job after walking out of my kitchen, I promise you I will make it impossible. I know you’ve only been here a couple months, but here’s what you need to learn: put your head down and do your fucking job, and you can work anywhere in the world after this. Be a whiny piece of shit who tries to walk out on his shift, and you’ll be working at McDonald’s for the rest of you life. Got it?”

Greyson, too shocked to rebut, just bobbed his head up and down.

“Let me hear you say it,” the Chef said. Greyson cleared his throat.

“Yes, Chef,” he said. The Chef nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my office.”

Now

“Elijah. Look at this text.”

The GM looked up slowly from the iPad where he was going over reservations for the evening. “...Why?” he asked, taking the phone from Greyson’s hand.

“Just look. Tell mbe that’s ndot weird,” Greyson said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elijah looked down, confused, and read the text. He pinched his eyebrows together just a little, and read it again. “See? Isn’t that weird?”

“Greyson…” Elijah said, handing the phone back. “That’s not weird.”

“Seriously?” Greyson asked, reading the text yet again. “It’s bizarre. He’s ndot even a little mad? C’mon. That’s weird.”

“He’s being sweet,” Elijah explained, slowly, as though he were talking to a toddler. “Did you want him to be mad? Because that’s bizarre.”

“Ndo I don’t want him to be mad. I jus – HTSZHH-ue! HRRSHH!” Greyson wrenched to the side to sneeze, which sent him into a fit of hacking coughs. “I just figured he’d want to, like, yell at mbe or something. For canceling,” Greyson finished, his voice strained against another cough. Elijah didn’t respond, not at first, and instead pressed a hand onto the chef’s forehead.

“I think you’re sicker than we thought, because you’re acting fucking delusional,” he said as Greyson slapped his hand away. “Greyson, normal people don’t yell at each other for getting sick, or having to cancel a plan. That’s, like, really twisted.”

Greyson rolled his eyes. “It’s ndot twisted, Lij you fuckin’ drama queen,” he said, then held up a finger. “Onesec – hh! Hh...hnn.” Greyson sniffled, a let out a little irritated cough. “Lost it.”

“Go back to the kitchen,” Elijah said, pointing towards the swinging doors. “Sit down. Rest. Let your medicine kick in. I don’t want people seeing this -” he gestured to Greyson, as if to allude to his entire being – “when they walk past the restaurant. Alright? Text your boyfriend something nice. Not something unhinged.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Greyson muttered, turning toward the kitchen, his phone still open to the conversation with Reed. He turned towards Elijah again before pushing through the kitchen doors. “I still say that this is the unhinged thing.”

“Go to therapy, Greyson,” Elijah said, not looking up from the iPad. Greyson rolled his eyes, pushed into the kitchen, and regarded his phone once again.

Greyson

10:07AM

thanks, babe. it’s ok, I can take care of myself. it wont be a long day, ill just grab some nyquil omw home and sleep it off. ill reschedule our rezo too, don’t worry about that. im really sorry again for canceling. if I could taste the food id still go lol.

Figuring that sounded at least relatively normal, Greyson hit send. He sat down at his desk once again and placed his head in his hands. No way he’s not pissed, Greyson thought, and he really believed it. In all his years of dating, he’d never met anyone who would respond that way; they’d at least have a snippy remark about the last-minute nature of the cancellation.

Greyson’s phone pinged once again, and he couldn’t help but grab it right away to assess the damage.

Reed

10:08AM

honey, please don’t apologize, seriously. youre sick, it happens, its no biggie :) I already moved the reservation to next week but if we need to ill move it again. james at emp said to tell you feel better btw.

Greyson blinked, dumbstruck. He started typing without thinking.

Greyson

10:10AM

you REALLY arent mad? seriously?

Reed

10:10AM

im really not mad. who gets mad at someone for being sick…? is someone at work mad at you? am I supposed to be mad..? lol

Greyson

10:11AM

I mean its a last minute cancellation. id understand if u were mad.

Reed

10:11AM

welllll….im not. is that ok? haha

Reed

10:15AM

grey…? you believe me, right?

Reed

10:21AM

greyson..?

Then – Seven Years Ago

He was moving through molasses.

Greyson placed a sluggish hand to his own forehead – you can’t check yourself for a fever, dumbass – and blinked painfully. He’d made it to work, he’d made it through the day, and he’d made it back home, against all odds. Now, he was stuck on his couch, unable to even crawl to the bathroom for a thermometer.

It had all compounded on him, was his guess. The endless fourteen hour days for the better part of two years at his thankless sous chef job. The shitty Chicago-suburbs apartment with no heat, where he froze for the few hours a week he slept. The near-constant drinking. Sure, he was only twenty-five, but what was it they said about this industry? It ages you in dog years. Yeah, that was it.

“Hh-! Hh...ITSZHH-ue! HTSHHH-ue!” Greyson sneezed helplessly into the blanket he’d wrapped around himself, and groaned. This was not what he’d imagined when he moved here from Minnesota. He’d thought it would be glamorous, working as a sous chef at a high-end hotel in a big city. He thought he’d have friends, or a girlfriend, or something. Instead, he was trapped on his couch, benched by a sinus infection and seasonal depression that seemed to last the whole year round. Fuck this, Greyson thought. He couldn’t get off the couch, but he could reach his phone; Greyson pulled up Indeed and changed his search parameters.

Actively searching for work. Location: Any.

Now

“Um… Chef? What’s, uh… what’s going on?”

Greyson paused for a moment, a crate of spoiled food held on his shoulder. He turned towards Matt, keen to answer, but instead held the crate tighter and wrenched to the side. “HRTTSHH-uh!”

“Bless you,” Matt said, an automatic reaction. Greyson nodded, turned towards the dumpster, and dumped the food in before beginning the cycle anew: pick up crate. Turn to sneeze. Dump old food. Matt wasn’t sure if he should help his boss, or go inside for backup.

He chose the former, picking a crate filled to the brim with rotten tomatoes off the ground and hoisting it into the trash. “You gonna tell me what’s up?” he asked as the two of them continued gathering and tossing.

Greyson sighed, pulled a hand down his face, and shook his head. “I thingk Reed and I are over,” he said, voice soft and throaty. Matt’s eyebrows shot up.

“What? Seriously? What did you do?” Matt asked, prompting a stuffy laugh from his boss.

“I just don’t thingk it’s going to work,” Greyson said, shrugging. “I… I don’t want to, like, play gambes. I can’t do that again, ndot after Collin.”

“Chef,” Matt said as he gathered and tossed the last milk crate, “what are you talking about? Reed is, like, the most straight-shooting guy I’ve ever met. How is he playing games?”

Greyson, left without anything to occupy his hands, just shrugged and pulled out his phone. He handed it to Matt without explanation, and the sous quickly read through the text conversation Greyson and Reed had going. Matt furrowed his brow.

“I don’t get it,” he said, handing the phone back. “He wants to take care of you, what’s the problem with that?”

“He doesn’t want to take care of me, he wants to have the upper hand,” Greyson explained, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and sitting on the step just outside the back door. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Matt said, sitting beside his boss. “I mean, you shouldn’t be smoking if you’re -”

“HTSHH! Hh-! ITZSHH-ue!” Greyson turned into his elbow, taking a long moment to gather himself before handing Matt his cigarette.

“-sick,” Matt finished. The older man shrugged, and Matt plucked the lighter out of Greyson’s hand to light both of them up, not daring to push his boss any closer to the edge. For a moment, they smoked in silence, only Greyson’s sniffles and coughs interrupting the quiet.

“Boss,” Matt said, finally, “I think you need to talk to Reed.”

“I did,” Greyson said, stubbing out his cigarette. “You saw.”

“No, I mean actually talk to him,” Matt said. The two of them stood, looking at each other – a face-off without the malice. Matt continued. “Not ignore his texts and clean out the walk-in.”

Greyson scoffed. “Matt, just because you have sombe fairy-tale love story doesn’t mbean everyone else does, too. Okay? If it’s over between me and Reed, it’s fine. I’mb better off alone, anywaa – hh! Hh… Hhhii-!” Greyson stood with his elbow poised at his face, stuck in pre-sneeze agony for what seemed like an eternity. While he was incapacitated, Matt took his phone and typed out a message that his boss couldn’t see. Finally, Greyson lowered his arm and sucked in, fruitlessly, through his nose. “The fugck are you doigg?” he asked, snatching his phone back from his sous.

“If you’re not going to talk to Reed,” Matt shrugged, unapologetic, “I will.”

Greyson looked down at his phone, which buzzed twice in his hand. Reed’s face popped up on the screen. Call from: reed <3

Then – Three Years Ago

“HTSHH! Huh! ETZSHH-ue! HRTTSHH-ue!”

“Bless, bless, bless you. Allergies?” Collin asked, not looking up from his phone. Greyson sniffled in vain, and coughed painfully.

“Ndot exactly,” he croaked from the doorway to Collin’s living room. “Baby, do you thingk you could drive mbe to urdent care, actually?”

Collin looked up and slowly raised an eyebrow. “For what?” he asked, obviously annoyed. Greyson swallowed as best he could and placed a hand on his throat.

“I thingk… I mbight have strep. Or bronchitis, or sombething. I, uh… I’ve had a fever for like. A week.” Greyson had to stop to close his eyes and grab onto the door frame, a sordid attempt to keep from hitting the floor like a rotten sack of potatoes. Collin rolled his eyes.

“You’re such a drama queen. You seemed fine when you came over last night.”

“You were asleep whend I came over,” Greyson said, his eyes still closed. “Did you ndot notice that I haven’t been over in like five days?”

Collin shrugged. “I mean, yeah, but I figured you were busy with work. You’re always busy with work,” he said, the venom in his voice making clear that he wanted to fight.

Greyson, physically incapable of fighting at that moment, just slid slowly to the ground and nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” he said. “Ndow I’m paying the price. Please, baby. Can you please just take me? I… I really don’t feel well.”

It was pathetic. He knew it, but he couldn’t stop himself; he was fairly sure he was moments from passing out. Collin turned and made himself comfier on the couch.

“I’ll call you an uber,” he said, pressing some buttons on his phone. “You barely make time for me, and now you’re asking me to be your chauffeur? Please, Greyson.” He showed his ailing boyfriend the phone. “He’ll be out front in five minutes. Better make your way down.”

“Okay,” Greyson said, pulling himself slowly to his feet. “Thangk you.”

Collin didn’t say a word as Greyson let himself out of the apartment. He made it downstairs, and into the uber, and into the waiting room at urgent care. He made it out by himself, too, with a laundry list of prognoses – strep, sinus infection, walking pneumonia – and a handful of prescriptions. When he texted Collin later to fill him in, his boyfriend didn’t text back.

Greyson fell asleep on his shower floor and awoke to freezing water pounding on him, and a courier pounding on his door. When he toweled off and answered it, chicken soup from the local bodega and a note that read feel better -c sat at his feet. Greyson breathed a sigh of relief; at least he had been forgiven.

Now

Reed had dated plenty of men is his thirty-five years of life, and had found that there were two general categories when it came to sick men: there was the Baby, and there was the Don’t Look at Me.

Greyson though, an enigma since the moment they met, seemed to fall into a third category, a category that was, to Reed, yet undiscovered: the You Hate Me.

Reed was good with the first two categories; the Don’t Look at Me, you left medicine outside their room and texted them funny memes. The Baby, you laid in bed with them and spoon-fed them soup. Easy. Understandable. Truthfully, this was one of his favorite things about men: they were easy to crack. He figured Greyson would likely fall into the Baby category, which was fine by him – there was nothing he’d like more than to look after an ailing Greyson, to be honest. This third category he seemed to embody, though, was not something Reed knew what to do with.

“He didn’t answer when I called him,” Reed said into the phone receiver. “I just want to know what’s going on, I mean, did I say something wrong?”

On the other end of the line, Elijah sighed. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. This is just… it’s just Greyson being Greyson.”

Reed wasn’t about to take this lying down. “Hey, are you guys super busy tonight? I mean, I don’t want to be that boyfriend, but, like, can I come get him? We really need to talk, and if what Matt said is true he probably shouldn’t be, like, working anyway, right?”

While Elijah paused, Reed pulled the phone away from his ear and once again re-read the text Matt had sent from Greyson’s phone: hey reed, it’s matt. grey is sick as hell, so DO NOT take any of the crazy weird shit he says seriously, k? his temperature needs to lower by like 5 degrees before you do this, but u guys need to actually talk. he’s being stupid.

“Please,” Reed heard Elijah’s tinny voice on the other end and put the phone back to his ear. “Please, come and collect him. I’m begging.”

Reed stood from the couch and grabbed his keys. “Give me twenty minutes. I’m on my way.”

Then – Two Years Ago

“Heyyy, baby, cand I buy you a dringk?”

The girl leaned back, her face marked by disgust. “No, thanks. Save your money and get yourself some NyQuil,” she said, disappearing into the crowd. Greyson huffed out a sigh and coughed into his hand – a long, crackling sound that made the other bar patrons inch their chairs away.

“She’s right, you know,” the bartender – Skip, Greyson had learned his name was a few weeks back when he had started coming in every night – said, filling Greyson’s shot glass yet again. “You need to go home.”

“And yet you pour mbe another drink,” Greyson said, knocking back the shot. “The duality of mban. NGTXSH! HTSHH! Huh-! HRRSHH-ue!” Greyson covered his mouth lazily with one hand, wiped it on his pants, hand held the glass up to indicate ‘another’.

“Bless you,” Skip said, not pouring the shot. “Greyson, seriously: go home. You sound fucking awful.”

“Are you cutting mbe off?” Greyson asked, his rheumy eyes meeting Skip’s over the bartop. “Because unless you are, I’mb staying.” He coughed again, into his elbow; the cough was quickly becoming a problem. He’d had a cold two weeks ago; the symptoms had been mild, but the cough had hung around. When he caught whatever-the-fuck this was two days ago, the cough had turned from an annoyance to a pressing issue; he should go home. He should go to the doctor, he should take a day off, he should, he should, he should.

But he wouldn’t. He would stay, and he would drink until he was kicked out, then he’d pass out on the train and not make it home to sleep. He’d go to work at seven AM and stay until midnight and do it all again.

“I’m not kicking you out,” Skip sighed. “I’m just saying… you should take care of yourself.”

Greyson blinked slowly. He could feel his lungs, heavy with fluid, gearing up to cough again; his head, pounding in spite or because of the alcohol; his heart crushed into a million, Collin-sized pieces. Take care of yourself. It felt impossible, when you’d never been shown how.

“This is mbe taking care of myself,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll have another.”

Now

Greyson rested his head on a case of lettuce in the corner of the walk-in. He knew he should be continuing his madness of cleaning, but he’d accidentally sat down on his fifth trip into the refrigerator, and now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to get up again.

Fucking Reed, Greyson thought as he allowed the cold salad box to sate the fever he had burning in his brain. Why can’t he just be up front with me? If you’re mad just say it, don’t fucking torture me.

Perhaps deep down, he knew he was being ridiculous; Matt and Elijah were most likely correct. The simplest answer – that Reed truly was just a good guy – was probably the right one. But he just couldn’t get out of his mind all the times he’d reached out, needed help and asked for it, and been shot down. He certainly couldn’t allow himself to believe that the person he was dating was truly good; he knew he’d never deserve that.

“Greyson?”

Speaking of Reed, that sounded a lot like him – was Greyson hearing things? Had he, in his fever-addled state, conjured a hallucination of his boyfriend to have a fight with? Bizarre, Grey, he thought to himself. That’s really fucking bizarre.

“Grey? Elijah said you were in here but I don’t – oh!”

Either this was a really crazy hallucination, or that really was Reed standing over him, in the walk-in. Greyson blinked hard, then blinked again, and suddenly Reed was on the ground next to him.

“Babe...it’s really cold in here. Do you think we can, um, leave?”

Greyson furrowed his eyebrows together. “Leave… and go where?” he asked, his voice cracking. “I have to… work. What are you doigg heeee...HRTSHH-ue! Huh -! HTSHH! NTSHH! IGXTSH!” Greyson attempted to stifle over and over, until Reed gently took his hand and pulled it away from his face.

“That has to hurt,” Reed said, his voice quiet and calm. “You can just… sneeze, you know. Like, regular.”

“Tryigg ndot to get you,” Greyson croaked, his eyes glazing over once again. “Youbettermov – HRRETSZCHH-ue! ITSZZHH-ue! Fuck – NGTSHHZ-ue!” Greyson sneezed into his lap, then coughed until his lungs felt sore. Reed didn’t move; he came closer and rubbed Greyson’s back.

“Bless you, baby,” Reed said, eventually.

“Thangks. Sorry,” Greyson murmured, pushing his hair out of his face and turning to look at Reed. “Why are you here?” he asked, levity out the window.

Reed let out a little laugh. “Umm, why do you think?” he asked. “You’ve been ignoring me since this morning. I got worried, since Matt said you were super sick – no lie detected, by the way, you sound truly awful –”

“Sorry,” Greyson said again, wiping under his nose. “I kndow, it’s gross.”

“Please, Grey,” Reed said, taking both sides of his boyfriend’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye. “Please. Stop apologizing. It’s okay to be sick. I don’t understand why you think I’m angry at you. I’m not.”

Greyson swallowed, painfully, and gave a little nod. “Okay,” he said, finally.

“Okay,” Reed repeated. “Anyway. I called Elijah. He said to come and collect you.”

At this, Greyson couldn’t help but cough out a laugh. “Collect mbe?” he asked. Reed smiled a little.

“Yeah,” he said. “His words, not mine.”

They both laughed, softly at first, then ramping up to near-hysteria. They only stopped when Greyson started coughing again and couldn’t seem to stop.

“Let’s go get you some water,” Reed said, helping his boyfriend to his shaky feet. Greyson allowed himself to be pulled out of the walk-in, and given a bottle of water that was sitting on his prep station. Greyson drank until the fit subsided, then regarded Reed once again.

“So… you really aren’t mbad?” he asked, rubbing his goosebumped arms up and down. Reed shook his head and shrugged off his windbreaker. He draped it over Greyson’s shoulders.

“I’m really not mad,” he insisted. Greyson nodded, seemingly satiated. Reed sighed through his nose and slipped his arms around the chef.

“Life’s done a number on you, huh?” he asked, quietly enough that it could’ve just been to himself. Greyson huffed out a sad little laugh.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, baby,” he murmured, pressing his hot head into Reed’s hair. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #coldfic #snzblr #snez #male cold #male snz #this was a fun one!#whump #h/c #but mostly hurt lol #i know it's a lot of dialogue. my apologies i just love to write dialogue and HATE to write exposition lol #which is Not Good Writing but whatever #this is my horn snz blog not my doctoral thesis lmao

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mearchy · 2 months

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I used to read a lot of really really dark sad whump fics pretty much exclusively. Characters getting absolutely mentally and physically annihilated in the worst, most soul-crushing circumstances possible. Lots of hurt no comfort. Lots of apocalypses. Over the past five or six years, I’ve turned to reading mostly stories about characters getting dogs and having adventures with them, or growing old together, or escaping bad circumstances against all odds. Fix-it AUs. Slice-of-life fics. I’m not necessarily a happier person. I think I just value those stories more than I did. Something something the dystopia is here something something wisdom comes with age. Dykwim

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aceofwhump · 9 months

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Doctor Who 3x13 ''Last of the Time Lords''

#whumpedit #whump #doctor who #10th doctor #tenth doctor #david tennant #my gifs #mod post #grief #emotional whump #holding #cradling #cradled #the master #jon sims #character death #the scream he lets out in the last gif is so good #dt is so good at emotional pain

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whumpingwho · 1 year

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‘Sarah..? Sarah? Sarah, are you there?’

#i love it when actors go that bit further in making their injuries seem realistic #tom is especially good at it #like the way he almost passes out again in the last gif #so good #doctor who #doctor who whump #classic who #classic who whump #fourth doctor #fourth doctor whump #whump #the sontaran experiment #season 12 #unconscious #my gifs

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 2 years

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Whump Prompt #955

@zodiacccrab asked:

‘Can you do a prompt where a loving but stern doctor has to restrain a non-compliant patient (whumpee)? He's so sorry the whumpee is scared and upset, but tests must be completed nonetheless! It's just buisness. ‘

“The longer this takes, the longer it’ll hurt, alright?”

(Affectionately) “Hey, keep flailing like that and I’ll get [character] to hold you down.”

“Shh, shh, It’s alright, it’s just a pain reliever.”

“I know you hate the sedatives, so I need you to relax, alright? Otherwise I will have to use them.”

(Doctor telling whumpee stories to get them to calm down. The whumpee is so engrossed that they don’t even notice the procedure.)

“You can either eat your jello or I’ll fish some mash potatoes out the back of the fridge. Your choice.” - “...you wouldn't dare.” - “Try me.”

I wont bullshit you, this is gonna suck, so I need you to take big deep breaths for me, alright? Big deep breaths and I’ll go as fast as I can.”

#This one had me stumped!#(but in a good way!)#i hope these help #whump #writing #prompts #doctors #medical procedures #ideas #dialogue #not sure how else to tag these #my brain is fried from whumptober lol

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flintstill · 7 months

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bebx · 1 year

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medical drama tv series — especially the ones where each episode focuses more on each patient’s case, as well as scenes in the ER/OR, than overall personal love lives of their characters — are one of the best options to drive into, if you’re into whump! just saying x

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boowhumps · 2 months

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Whumpril 2024

Day 1 - Limp

⚠TW⚠

- Swearing

- Descriptive Body Horror

- Self-Harm

- Blood

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~

Karyme could hear her heart beating intensely in her ears. Her breaths came out shallow, as if a invisible force was pressing against her chest.

She found herself stumbling, her vision blanking out the more she moved. Her ankle seemed to drag across the grass, holding her back.

She grabbed onto the closest thing she could find, and used it to push herself further up ahead. All around her, tall trees stood, preventing the sun from touching her.

She yearned for the warmth to reach her, her and her cold, frozen body. Even when she could see the sun rays, she still shivered.

She wanted to make it out, so the sun could grace upon her.

In reality, Karyme wasn't even sure where she was trying to go, but she felt the urge to go somewhere else, away from where she was now.

She steadied herself against a tree, stopping to rest. She looked around, until her gaze fell to the floor, where the green grass looked oddly dark.

She studied the patch of grass closely, watching as drops of red dripped from somewhere, staining the grass further.

Her eyes traveled further, landing on herself.

She could see her torso, the black fabric of her turtleneck appearing darker near the middle.

Karyme goes to touch it, only for a stinging pain to travel through her body quickly. She hunches forward, grabbing onto the tree to keep herself up right.

Disoriented, she looks at her hand. Her skin tone pales in contrast to the dark red blood that thickly coated her fingers.

Then it hit her.

The blood.. this forest..

She had been here earlier, hiding from.. someone..

She didn't succeed.

She was found.

She remembered being backed up against a tree, looking into the eyes of.. someone..

Then pain. Searing, hot pain.

Then blood.

A hole. A gaping hole that was in her. Blood seeping through it, like a waterfall.

Her limp ankle dragging behind her, broken beyond repair.

Little cuts running up and down her arms, both of them, some not deep enough to bleed, others deep gashes, causing pain.

A pounding in her head, blood escaping from somewhere, blinding her.

Karyme remembered.

“..Karyme..?”

A voice rang out.

A familiar voice.

She let go of the tree.

And she collapsed.

~~~~~~~~~

Kaiden was panicking, plain and simple.

I mean, who wouldn’t be panicking in this kind of situation? Leony had freaked out, claiming that Karyme was in danger, and couldn’t give more than the name to the supposed place she was in.

La Immort. The biggest, and most dangerous forest in Eris.

Why would Karyme be there, well, Kaiden had no idea. He had no idea about anything that was happening. He could hardly remember the past few weeks, not to mention what caused Karyme to leave without a word.

Nonetheless, Leony’s persistence was enough for him to go searching for answers.

That’s where he was now, searching in La Immort.

Every sound made him jump, hoping to see Karyme, only to be met with nothing. It didn’t help that it was windy either. The cold air sunk into his bones, making an already unpleasant situation even more unpleasant.

He wasn’t even sure he should be here. Even when his heart pushed him forward, his mind screamed at him to turn around.

Kaiden was a mess, completely conflicted.

Until he heard it.

A sound clear as day, unlike everything else he heard in these woods.

A scream.

It was loud enough to make every hair on his body stand up rigidly. Alarms went off in his head, but yet, he didn’t move.

He should run, run and escape whatever the hell caused that kind of a scream from someone.

But something was stopping him.

Someone.

No, he had never heard Karyme scream.. or do anything for that matter.

But what if it was her? He couldn’t just leave her..

It was risky to keep going, but he had to.

So with a shaky breath, he trudges on.

His eyes are tightly shut, as if that will keep him safe.

He stops once again at the sound of something else.

It’s heavy.. wheezy even, like a whistle..

He takes a step forward.

He hears something else take a step.

It goes that way for a bit, step by step, each one approaching each other unknowingly. Invisible strings seems to tug at them, pulling them ever so close..

Finally, Kaiden takes the last step.

A scent is carried through the wind, a metallic one..

The smell is overwhelming, overpowering even..

His eyes scan the area.

Then he sees it.

Clear as day.

He wishes he couldn't see.

There's so much.. blood. Just, everywhere.. it.. this can't be happening, no, this has to be fake..

A pair, no, a single, red eyes looks back at him. There's nothing behind her gaze. Not pain, not.. anger, just, nothing.. numbness..

His voice is stolen away from him.

He can't say anything, fuck, why can't he speak!

Say something..

Say something!

His mouth opens slightly, a small breath of air coming out.

"..Karyme..?"

She blinks.

Then she falls.

It happens in a spilt second, Kaiden can't even react, but his body can. He's at her side in seconds, just as fast as she fell.

He grabs her, trying to help, his ears ringing.

She gasps, her hands pushing at his chest.

Even with a huge wound going across her torso, she has enough strength to try and push him away. She cries as she fights against him. Kaiden just grabs onto her wrists, holding her still as she thrashes and cries.

Kaiden doesn't know what to do, fuck, he doesn't know what to do! Think, for the love of Selyna please think..

911. An ambulance, he needs an ambulance.

He scrambles with his phone, somehow managing to dial the number despite the blood coating his fingers.

He talks to someone, a lady. He can't make out what she's saying, but he responds.

At some point, she tells him to try and stop the bleeding.

Kaiden is shaking, yet composes himself enough to coordinate his movements.

He has a jacket, a old one, he can use it, it won't matter, it's not important.

Kaiden holds the jacket up, and closes his eyes, mumbling a quick prayer before pushing it down onto the wound.

Karyme reacts, a short cry escaping her throat as she clutches onto Kaiden's shirt, letting the blood smudge onto it.

Kaiden's ears finally stop ringing, and he hears himself speaking quickly. He can feels tears in his eyes. They're blurring his vision, he blinks them away, they come back.

"-okay, your okay, dear Selyna please be okay.." He says quickly, feeling out of breath despite his limited movement.

Karyme lets out a choked sob, gripping onto him even harder, scrunching up his shirt in her grip.

The jacket made a sacrifice, but the bleeding won't stop. He can't make it stop, why don't it stop.

Kaiden keeps applying pressure, letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding in. He takes her frail body into his lap, while still talking.

"Stay with me, stay with me, you gotta stay, okay, no leaving, you need to stay here, with me, yeah-?" He stammers, his breaths short and rigid.

Karyme's still conscious, by some miracle. Her breaths are just as short as his own, maybe even shorter. They end with a bit of a wheeze.

Kaiden's eyes wander over her, spotting so many different injuries, even her ankle which seems to be fractured, maybe even broken.

Kaiden just keeps listing the same things in his mind.

"Broken ankle, punctured lung, head injury, impaled.. broken ankle, punctured lung, head injury, impaled.."

He can't fathom how she's still breathing, nor how she got this way in the first place.

All he knows is that no average person did.. this.

It was something else.

Something bigger..

..someone more powerful..

Kaiden snaps out of his thoughts as he feels Karyme's grip loosen a bit.

He looks back down at her.

She's gone dangerously pale. Her eyes seem darker than they were just moments before..

"Hey, no, Karyme, stay here, stay with me, don't go anywhere, you need to be strong, help is almost here-" He begins to stammer again as the faint sound of sirens approach.

He only stops when Karyme's hand reaches up, slightly cupping his face. Her lips part slightly, a bit of air escaping through them.

"..baby..?" He mumbles, eyes widening a bit.

Her hand stops.

And it falls.

Kaiden grabs her hand in his, clutching it as to keep her here with him.

"..shit..! No no no no no.. Hey, stay with me, please just stay-!" He begs, tears finally falling.

Her other hand, still gripping his shirt, loosens before falling as well.

"Fuck, Karyme-!" Kaiden cries. "Don't do this to me-!"

Her eyes remain open, blinking slightly.

Then the curtain falls, and they close.

"Karyme, Karyme, baby, please wake up-! I-I need you, please don't die, oh Selyna don't let her die-!" Kaiden begs helplessly to no avail.

Even as the sirens finally are near, and the sound of many footsteps and voices are heard, something isn't around.

The beating of a heart, the sound of breathing.

Some of it is missing.

And it may never be found.

~~~~~~~~~~

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quietwingsinthesky · 3 months

Text

ohhhh u know what i wanna write. need to, even. very important to do it at some point. but i think i really do need to make the doctor have a meltdown. i think that would be very cathartic to put them through.

#whump but autism flavored. for me.#i mean i imagine that he has been having them just off-screen when the worse adventures are over #can keep it together as long as he’s running because he can focus on something else and. then when he is not it all hits at once.#the doctor curled on the tardis floor because he can hear her engine vibrating through it and its the only sensation that isnt causing him #physical pain to experience at the moment #i need him to go thru some shit okay. never enough fics in the autistic doctor tag on ao3 #skmeone remind me to outline this in the morning. gotta pick which doctor to do it to. which companion to be with him.#i am feeljng ten & donna but that could change #oh on that note: thinks about 14 having meltdowns about. ‘normal things’.#local man who has saved the world a thousand times suddenly finds out that grocery store lighting is intensely stressful and makes him want #to cry. despite all contradicting evidence that this is happening to him is a good thing.#means he’s recalibrating slowly to allow his body to be upset by things like that rather than pushing all of it down to be set off by #the world nearly exploding or someone he loves getting hurt. instead he can get overwhelmed by small things and feel safe that if he reacts #to that. nothing bad will happen to him while he’s having a meltdown. ohhhhh donna bringing him a weighted blanket because he went to hide #in his tardis after comjng home and not saying a word to anyone…..#okay im done i swear im done.

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adzeisval · 1 year

Text

Emergency

Sequel to Stranded, you can read it here.

Roach was done patching up the crew after the storm; several crew members needed minor wounds dealt with, not too bad for such a freak and violent storm.

Now though Roach had time to worry. They were still searching for the little boat; for Lucius and Izzy. All hands were on deck scouring the sea for signs of their crewmates. At best Roach hoped he had to treat the men for minor wounds, exposure, and at the worst…there would be nothing he could do.

At the very worst they wouldn’t even find the bodies.

Pete and Fang were bouncing around with nervous energy; Ed was staring out at the sea like he wanted to murder it.

“I see them!” Stede yelled. Ed ran and took the telescope.

“Roach!”

He ran and took the telescope from Ed and looked at the little spit of land where Lucius and Izzy were. Both alive, but…something was wrong with Izzy. He was almost limp against Lucius, there was something wrong with his breathing.

“Get him to the galley as quick as possible,” Roach said, handing the telescope back. He ran to prepare for whatever needed to be done. Things were clean enough. He gathered his surgical tools. And waited. Things were going to get hectic any moment but there was a little calm before it.

Roach looked at the tools again and focused on the bottle of Laudanum. He was glad he had it, but he very much hoped that there was something more that he could do for Izzy. It was better than watching him die in pain but only just.

Stede pushed the door open for Ed, who was carrying Izzy cradled close to his chest.

“We’re here Iz, Roach’ll take good care of you, you’re alright mate.”

Izzy looked so small. He looked bad. He was pale and shaking every breath taking an immense amount of energy and movement. His lips were blue, he was only partially conscious.

There were good things too. He was alive, he was strong enough to make the effort it took to breathe. He was strong enough to cling to Ed.

“Help me get his clothes off,” Roach said. Taking Izzy's shirt off revealed a horribly bruised chest and broken ribs on his right side. That would explain things.

“Can you keep him propped up Captain?”

“I can,” Ed said.

Roach listened to Izzy’s chest. His right lung had collapsed, the left partially. There was likely blood or air in Izzy’s chest keeping him from being able to breathe. The treatment was going to hurt, Roach was going to have to pierce Izzy’s chest and slip a tube into it to drain the blood and air. Then there was the chance Izzy would lose too much blood, then it was almost certainly going to get infected. He was still going to have trouble breathing with the broken ribs. He might get pneumonia. He was very, very close to slipping too far into shock to save and treatment could push him over the edge.

But. But Izzy was fighting, and his pulse was still strong enough to try treatment.If things went right and he wasn’t losing too much blood, if they fought infection, Izzy could recover fully.

“Roach?” Ed asked.

“I have to pierce his chest and put a tube in to drain his chest, he can’t breathe because there’s too much pressure crushing his lungs,” Roach looked from Ed to Izzy, who was watching him, “It’ll hurt Izzy, but if I do nothing you’ll die.”

Izzy nodded, “Do it.”

“Right. Can you stay to help Captain? It might get bloody.”

“I’m not leaving him,” Ed said.

Roach nodded and gathered the tools, “I’m ready, I’m sorry Izzy.”

Izzy cried out in pain and when it was done he slumped back against Ed and for a few moments Roach thought it was over.

“Breathe Iz,” Ed whispered. Izzy did. Blood and air hissed from the tube. Izzy continued to take shaky breaths. Deeper breaths.

Roach listened to Izzy’s chest again. The left lung sounded better, the right maybe a little better, and his heart was still strong.

“You’re doing good Izzy. I know it hurts to breathe but try to take deep breaths. You need to be a little more stable before I can give you something for the pain.”

Izzy nodded, “Thank you.”

Roach and Ed worked to get Izzy as comfortable as possible on the table, he was going to have to stay there for at least a day with the tube in. He was still in danger of slipping away but thus far things were going well.

“Still doing alright Izzy,” Roach asked.

“Tired,” Izzy said.

Roach checked Izzy’s vitals, “You can sleep Izzy, we’ll watch over you.” He would have preferred Izzy to stay awake a little longer but there was no way that was going to happen.

It wasn’t long before Izzy had passed out. Roach watched him carefully, made sure that his breathing was steady enough, held Izzy’s hand and felt his pulse for a few minutes.

“He’s doing well,” Roach assured Ed.

“Thank you Roach. Fuck, I thought he was gonna die in my arms.”

“He could have, he wouldn’t have lived much longer without treatment.”

“And he has a good chance now?”

“Yes. He’s got a tough fight ahead of him, but he's a tough bastard,” Roach said.

Ed snorted, “Yeah he is.”

“Can you watch him for a minute? I’ll tell the crew what’s going on and check on Lucius really quick.”

“I’ve got him,” Ed said. Roach nodded and took one more look at Izzy. So far, so good.

#ofmd #izzy hands #ofmd roach #roach is a good doctor #izzy whump #edward teach

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