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jasmines-library · 7 months

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Safehouse

WHUMPTOBER 23 DAY 13. Prompt: “infection.”

Fandom: Supernatural.

Summary: after sustaining an injury on a hunt, you and Dean are forced back to the safehouse, however the wound festers and becomes infected, leaving you very ill. With Cas MIA and without the proper equipment to treat the wound, you are left clinging onto life.

Warnings: infections, sepsis, cleaning wounds, pills (painkillers), cursing, blood, gore, stitches.

Word count: 2.1k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

“Come on sweetheart. Not much further.”

Dean’s arm was slung around your waist, pressing tightly on the wound just above your hip. Although the bleeding had slowed town to a trickle, the blood still slipped between the gaps in his fingers. It had been caused by a rogue kitsune out in Minnesota, her claws had driven deep into your side when she managed to catch you off guard. It was a moment of weakness that made you cringe. The pain was blinding as the three long digits carved away into your flesh. You hadn’t even been aware that you were screaming from pain and collapsing to the floor until you realised that Dean’s face was above you, not next to you. His eyes were wide and he bit down on his bottom lip as he tore off his flannel and pressed it firmly to the cut, eliciting another cry of agony from you. He mumbled reassurances as you rose shakily to your feet. Supporting your weight, Dean rushed you towards the car. That was when everything started to go wrong.

After easing you into the car, Dean whipped around to the driver's seat and shoved his key into the ignition. The engine rumbled before stuttering to a halt. Dean furrowed his brow, twisting the key into the ignition and pressing his foot on the gas. Again, the car refused to move.

“Come on, Baby.” He uttered, sparing you a sideways glance.

Again, no result.

“Son of a bitch.” Dean slammed his hand down on the wheel hard, throwing his head back in frustration. The damn thing must have messed with the car.

With no time to waste, he clambered back out of the car and wrapped his arm back around your waist to begin the trek to the safehouse. In normal circumstances, the walk would have only taken an hour at a stretch. It was one of Bobby’s that he used to use for hunting back in the day. That was, hunting before the supernatural. It was a cosy shack-up, large enough for all three of you to stay, but Sam had decided to stay back on this one. Dean mentally cursed himself for not forcing his brother along. He was always the more diligent one, much better at stitching people up. It was possible that with the extra backup, you might not have even gotten hurt in the first place. Though, Dean made a mental note to call him once you were situated to get him to come and collect the two of you asap. Though the drive was over 10 hours long, Dean knew that the chances of his brother reaching you were higher than the chances of getting the car fixed soon. Even with Cas MIA, Dean had tried praying to the angel, but he knew that it was almost hopeless.

With your injury it had taken well over an hour to get within a mile of the house. You were slow trying to navigate your cumbersome body, forcing one foot to move before the next. Relying heavily on the tall man to support your weight, you trudged forwards, leaning heavily onto your side. Dean thought that had he not been there, you would have keeled right over and dropped to the leaf-strewn floor in the middle of the woods. It was then that your head dropped to your chest and your knees buckled, causing Dean to lose his footing. He cursed, stumbling to keep his grip on you. When he righted the both of you, he noticed the way that your eyes drooped so much that they were practically shut.

“Sweetheart?”

You barely registered his words through the ache in your side. “Mm?”

“You gotta stay with me. We’re so close.” He pleaded. “We’re so close.”

“Hurts.” You mumbled.

Dean pushed up the hem of your torn shirt to take a look at the wound. His green eyes dilated at the sight.

It was angry and red raw, oozing substances that he didn’t want to know. Infection was surely on its way. With a new sense of urgency, he lifted you into his arms and ran the last stretch to the cabin.

Your head lolled against his chest as he reached the house and flung the door open. Your eyes were closed, but he could tell from the way your breaths hitched and how you stirred uncomfortably in his arms that you were still clinging onto consciousness. He placed you down tenderly on the couch before moving towards the bathroom and flinging open the cabinet. He breathed a sigh of relief when his hands grazed over the white medical box.

Rushing back to you, he tipped the contents of the box on the floor, scattering the contents by his feet. Kneeling down beside you, he rummaged for a bottle of antiseptic or something to clean the wound with. When he picked up the bottle, it felt too light in his hands, but he unscrewed the cap and tried to tip the content onto the wound. A dismal drop fell from the cap. He flung it across the room. You furrowed your brow when you heard his footsteps retreat again, only to return moments later. Dean returned with a bowl full of soapy water and a rag.

You grimaced at the contact of the cloth as he began to wipe away the blood and dirt from your skin. Your skin felt hot to the touch which only worried the man more. Once he was done cleaning, he tore open a gauze and bandage which he secured tightly around your body. He couldn’t stitch you up whilst infection was prominent. Then, he scrounged for something to help with your pain, unable to stand the way your face was scrunched tight. He slipped it between your lips and got you to force it down with a sip of water, half of which dribbled down your chin.

Sam’s on his way. He's coming. Dean reminded himself.

He had called Sam straight after you had fallen asleep. He told his brother that he would leave as soon as he could, but he was tied up with a small case. That was over 12 hours ago and in that short amount of time, you had gotten much, much worse.

A sheen of sweat had broken out across your brow, plastering loose hairs to your forehead. Your body trembled with violent shivers as you tried to cling to the small blanket that Dean had laid over your body. He kept a constant eye on the gashes above your hip. They had begun to clot, but were swollen and oozing. Dean could tell by the way that you groaned that your whole body ached too. He furrowed his brow, the infection was taking over and he was worried that without the proper equipment to treat it you would lose the battle. The bags around his eyes were dark and dragged down his face.

He hadn’t stopped once since you had gotten injured, spending his time rummaging through all of his cupboards for something. Anything. But he found nothing but a few cans of tinned soup and spam. When he wasn’t mindlessly searching or cleaning your wound, he was st by you clutching your hand. He sent many silent prayers to Cas, but the familiar flutter of wings were never to be heard.

He studied you as you breathed hard, gazing off into nothingness with hooded eyes. Picking up the round bottle of pills, Dean tipped out a few into his hand.

“Y/N?”

You rolled your head.

“Come on sweetheart. Drink up.”

Slowly and with help from Dean, you took the small pills and forced them down. You'd barely finished drinking before he placed a heavy hand on your forehead.

"The fever is too high," He said. You hear footsteps walking towards the kitchen door and then the door itself opening. Dean stepped out, leaving you in semi-darkness of the room where the light no longer flooded through the windows. You heard cluttering from the other side of the house before he returned once more.

"I'm sorry, this may hurt." He placed a wet cloth on your forehead. The coolness of the water felt wonderful against your clammy skin, but it also sent a chill through your whole body. You shivered uncontrollably.

Dean bit his lip, watching you nervously.

The room is uncomfortably hot. Your clothes were soaked with sweat and you couldn’t seem to catch your breath. You felt dizzy and nauseous, the room spun around you. Closing your eyes, you tried to try to relax and separate yourself from the pain. You breathed in and out slowly, counting to five on each inhale and exhale. But it seemed to make no difference.

Your droopy eyes caught Dean’s from across the way and your heart leapt in your chest. He was dishevelled and torn. You open your mouth to speak, but all that came out was a feeble groan.

Dean tilted his head and smiled, a tired, sympathetic smile that could easily have been mistaken for a frown. He was blaming himself once again. "I'm sorry sweetheart. I’m so so sorry…”

“Dean?” you whispered, letting the name roll off your tongue. It was really the first coherent thing you had said in the slow hours that dragged by.

“Yeah sweetheart?”

“Stop it. Not your fault.” You told him, trying to be authoritative, for you knew the man too well, but your weak body wouldn’t give you the authority to order him around.

He gave you another tired smile. "Get some rest, Y/N,"

You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off.

Your eyes flew open. You couldn’t say why, but you had a strong sense that you were being watched. You turned your head towards the door to see a figure silhouetted against the light from the doorway. He was tall and lumbering with hair that hug down by his shoulders.

You blinked and the figure vanished. You blinked again, and now the room was empty.

You lay there, listening to the sounds of the house. They were hard to make out in your barely coherent state, but if you focused hard enough, you could make out the heavy footsteps passing back and forth in the hallway, the distant murmur of voices, and the creak of old boards. There was a sudden warmth next to you as your shirt was peeled back, followed by the bandages the Dean had not long changed. You groaned at the contact of the fabric against your wound.

A thin film of blood had already formed over the surface of the wound. At some point, most likey during your relentless shivering Dean suspected, you had torn the clot on the wound and it had begun to bleed again, leaving a trail of scarlet on the bandage. Since then the blood had congealed and begun to dry around the edges of the wound. The flow had slowed almost to a stop, but the bleeding continued accompanied by an oozing of nasty fluids from the infection. Dean gulped. This meant that not only was the infection a problem, but they had to deal with more blood loss.

Sam felt a little sick from the sight and smell of the wound, he couldn’t begin to comprehend how it felt for you. He took a deep breath as he uncapped the bottle of antiseptic before pouring it onto the wound.

Your body bucked and you let out a shrill cry of pain, eyes flying wide open. Dean gripped your hand so tight that his knuckles turned white. The disinfectant worked quickly, killing off much of the bacteria, and slowing the rate of blood loss. The redness around the wound brightened - a strong sign that it was working. For now, the blood loss seemed to have stopped, though the wound is still very serious.

Using the disinfectant to clean the needle, Sam worked his long fingers agilely to thread the needle. He then positioned it above the gash and plunged it into your skin. Despite how hard you tried not to let it, a scream tore itself from your lips.

“I know sweetheart. We’re sorry. It’s almost done.”

Dean had to hold your writhing body down so that his brother could finish stitching you up. “You’re doing so well, Y/N. so well.”

When Sam finished the last stitch and cut the thread, your eyes rolled into the back of your head and you melted into the couch.

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<-DAY 12 ⛤ DAY 14 ->

🏷️ Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

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sprout-fics · 7 months

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Whumptober Day Three: "Make it Stop"

(Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x GN! Reader)

(Whumptober Masterlist TBA)

Rating: Gen Wordcount: 1k Tags: Blood/Injury, Whump, Chemical Burn Injuries, Gaz Whump Warnings: Explicit Mention of Injury

The bullet robs Gaz’s attacker of his life a moment too late.

You watch the light fade from your enemy’s eyes as his form slumps back against the lab table, an arm crashing into the empty syringes and glass beakers that go shattering to the floor. Yet louder is Gaz’s cry as he clutches at his face, free of the gas mask that had been torn away by the man who bleeds out onto the laboratory floor.

“FUCK!” He bellows, weapon dropping to his side as he stumbles away from you. “Bloody bastard got me-” He cuts off with a grunted noise of pain, frantically rubbing at his skin.

“Gaz, Gaz!” You call, following him, your own voice muffled by your gas mask. The beaker of miasma the scientist had thrown at Gaz rolls empty across the chipped linoleum, empty of its contents.

You pause to click on your radio as Gaz braces himself against the wall, groaning, shoulders tight with hurt.

“Watcher-01, we need a medic at our position. Building three. Gaz has been compromised.”

A crackle of static. “Copy Bravo-09. What’s his condition?”

You pause again, stomach rolling as you watch Gaz shudder, bend his head as if he’s about to empty the contents of his stomach.

“Bad.” Is all you provide before you abandon your radio in favor of focusing on the sergeant.

“Gaz.” You provide as you approach him, voice firm, hands solid as they turn him so his back presses against the wall. Gaz hisses at the motion, eyes scrunching shut. His face is damp with the liquid, skin irritated with whatever chemical lays on it. It managed to catch against one side of his face, but as you look across the wetness on his lips, you realized he’s somehow swallowed it.

“F-fuck.” Gaz manages again, but his voice lacks the dark anger that was there before, reduced to something closer to a plea as the pain takes hold. “Fuck, it hurts.”

“I know. I know, baby.” You mutter quickly, quickly retrieving your canteen and unscrewing the cap. “Head back, gotta rinse your face. Keep your mouth closed for me, yeah?”

Gaz shudders through an exhale, tipping his head back obediently, eyes scrunched shut with blossoming agony. “Y-yeah. Yeah. Go for it.”

The water cascades down the planes of his face, washing away the stain of the chemical from his skin that festers with a dark rash. You encourage him to open his eyes, and try to swallow the panic flaring in your stomach at the water coming away pink, stained with blood from his sclera.

“How do I look?” Gaz manages as you try to pat his face dry with his kerchief, cracking open his other eye with a grim smile.

“Gorgeous.” You smile at him, and hope it conceals the growing fear in your eyes. Yet then Gaz’s face scrunches, and he writhes against your hand on his shoulder, doubling over to clutch at his stomach, where the poison pools in his guts.

“B-bloody hell.” He whimpers, and you follow him to his knees, hands fluttering above his form, unsure what to do. Make him drink water? Force him to empty his stomach?

“Laswell, where’s the bloody medic?” You bark into your radio, and Laswell’s voice is tight with concern as she responds.

“Tango team is pinned down outside by building two.” She provides, clipped. “Hang tight.”

You should go assist, provide enough covering fire to let the team medic get to your sergeant. Yet when you raise yourself up, Gaz hands shoots out to clutch at your leg.

He doesn’t speak at first, shoulders trembling as he bites down on the pain rolling through his insides. His voice is a mere gasp at first, as if he’s trying to find the strength to speak.

“Gaz.” You gently encourage. “Kyle, I have to go get help.”

He shakes his head, groans at the motion, and that scares you, the loss of his calm, collected persona. You’re not sure what terrified you more, the agonized shudder of his limbs, or the fact that Gaz is scared.

“Make it stop.” He whimpers, and something inside you shatters.

You fall to your knees before him, grasp at his shoulders so he’s raised up just enough to press into your shoulder. He trembles there with a wet little gasp, hands clutching at your gear in a desperate bid to anchor himself.

“Laswell.” You bark with growing, frantic frustration. “We need med-evac. Now.”

Silence.

“Laswell, how copy?” You snap, hands shaking as they hold him.

“Med-evac is 20 minutes out.” Kate provides, her voice solemn. “Tango team just lost their medic.”

Oh fuck.

You have to force yourself to swallow down the screaming, thundering panic that threatens to erupt from your throat. Twenty minutes, and Gaz has become like this in only a few moments. The realization of it strikes like lightning through your thoughts, and it takes all your strength to not scream.

“Don’t leave.” Gaz slurs into your shoulder, shaking in agony. “Please.”

You don’t want to. Gods know you don’t want to, but you don’t have a choice. You have to go, you have to go rescue the other team and get help. You don’t know what to do.

“Gaz.” You try, voice betraying your terror. “Gaz I gotta go, I gotta go get help, I can’t-”

“No.” Kyle pleads, clutching a little harder at you. “I-I’ll be okay, I just- don’t leave.”

You hate yourself for wrenching his hands away, standing even as he bows to press his head against the dirty floor with a wrecked curse.

“I’ll be back.” You promise, voice shaking as you raise your weapon. “I promise, Gaz. I’ll be back. Just hang on.”

You leave him, as much as you hate yourself for it, as much as the cry of protest he emits cracks inside your chest, louder than the gunfire you race towards.

#kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x you #kyle gaz garrick x you #gaz whump #whumptober 2023 #Apologies for hurting the boy #He's fine

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ohtobeleah · 7 months

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Before You & After You // Mickey Garcia

-> A Jekyll & Hyde Official Prologue

Summary: Fanboys got a crush on the knew Hard Deck Barkeep. But when he’s still getting over the traumatic loss of his wife, crushes and new beginnings aren’t always so ease.

Warnings: Car Accident resulting in death. Family tragedy. Mickey Garcia x F!reader. Mickey Garcia x Original Character.

Word Count: 3.6k

Author Note: Day Twenty Two of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Greif. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

We cover up injuries with tape and gauze to protect the injury and prevent infection, to save ourselves from further suffering. The hard part though, that comes when you have to rip the bandage off.

Because that? Well—that can hurt like hell.

“So the word on the street is that Hyde has a crush on you.” People say that there are five stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. For Mickey Garcia? He sat somewhere between anger and depression any given day of the week. “That’s gotta feel good.” But somewhere between the depression and acceptance, sat you. Hyde.

Jake Seresin had known you for the better half of his life. He was the boy next door, the slightly older but far less mature brother who’d walk you home from the bus stop just to trip you over to see you face plant into the dirt at the same time. So when you had reached out to see if there was any work going in his corner of the world, he jumped at the opportunity to get you behind the bar of the Hard Deck.

Penny had been looking for a new barkeep, and hell, you fit right in.

“Hyde’s pretty—“ Was all Mickey replied with as he fed Logan, his eight month old, a bottle. “And nice, Hyde’s nice.” Was all Jake got out of the clearly distracted Weapons System Officer.

“That’s all? Pretty and nice?” Jake stared down at the little boy who was clearly getting milk drunk faster than Jake was getting real drunk. “Dude—don’t you think—“

“Don’t start.” Mickey snapped harshly, it had been a day and a half and the last thing he needed was Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin pestering him about when he was gonna get back on the horse. “I said she’s nice, now drop it, Hangman.”

Before Jake could say another word, he caught the sight of you sauntering over with a pep in your step and a smile plastered on your face. You brought the sun into any dreary situation, you lit up rooms with your smile and that infectious laugh that sounded like the gates of heaven had opened up truly brightened any person's mood that was blessed enough to hear it.

“Can I get you flyboys anything else to drink while I collect empties?” You asked politely as you stood holding the empty round collection tray. “Another bottle for Logan Mick?”

“Oh he should be good, thanks Hyde.” Mickey changed up his attitude real quick while you were around and Jake wasn’t one to not take notice. “But if you don’t mind I’ll grab another beer for Hangman and just a ginger beer for me thanks.”

“Sure thing.” You hadn’t been in North Island for very long, but in the time you had been you’d come to develop a pretty sincere crush on the back seater with the black curls and the cute kid. “I’ll be right back.”

Jake wasn’t gonna say anything as you walked away but Mickey beat him to it regardless.

“She’s got nice eyes too.” He mumbled as he rocked Logan in his lap. “They’re beautiful, just like her smile.” Jake hadn’t ever heard Fanboy say anything along those lines about anyone ever. “She’s a good person—“ He added before he pressed his lips together in a fine line. “But I’m not ready to move on.”

“I get it.” Jake sighed, he sympathised, truly he did. But Jake Seresin was always in favour of playing the devil’s advocate. “But if there’s anyone who’s going to understand it’s Hyde, she’s good people man, start slow and maybe you’ll surprise yourself.”

“Slow for me is just saying that another woman is beautiful out loud.” Mickey mumbled as he looked down at a now sleeping Logan, every bit the image of the mother he’d never truly know.

“Who’s beautiful?” You asked as he came back with Jake's beer and Mickey's ginger beer. “You got your eyes on someone, hey Fanboy?” It was an innocent dig but deep down you hoped that maybe, just maybe, he was talking about you.

“Oh—no I was just—“ Mickey didn’t know what to say or how to play it off. All Jake could do was watch, he could have thrown a lifeline out to the poor man but the sight of Mickey Garcia fumbling the bag was just too perfect. “I was just saying that I uh—you’re—” He couldn’t get himself to say it, and all you could do was simply try to hide the smirk that wanted to creep itself across your face. “I think that someone’s waiting for you to take their order.”

“Oh.” You tried to hide your disappointment but ultimately Jake could see right through your faked smile. “My bad, I'll get back to it then.” As you placed your hands in the back pockets of your jeans, Mickey watched with a painful twinge in his heart as you turned around and headed back towards the bar.

“Smooth romeo, hella smooth.” He teased as Jake took a sip from his beer. He wasn’t trying to push anything, he just thought you’d be good for Fanboy. He needed someone to be friendly with, someone who wasn’t navy to hang out with. Someone to help him heal from the trauma he’d been through.

Mickey though, he just took the opportunity to throw a single peanut Jake's way. He wasn’t ready to move on, he wasn’t sure if he ever would be. But as he watched you work and laugh with patrons who crowded the bar—he felt his heart flutter.

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“I’m driving!” Sophie Garcia was the light of Mickey's life and for the last nine months, she’d been pregnant with their first born. “God please let me drive, I’ve been doing nothing but feeding our son for the past two weeks and I need to feel like something more than a dairy cow.” The college sweethearts couldn’t have been any more in love.

“So a chauffeur is what you go for?” Mickey chuckled as he strapped little newborn Logan Reece Garcia into his car seat. “Honestly Soph, I don’t mind driving, but feel free if you wanna.”

He should have driven.

Mickey hadn’t even finished strapping their fresh out of the womb son in before Sophie was clipping her seatbelt in and turning on the engine of the BT-50 the pair had both gone in for earlier on in their marriage. Five years and going strong. “Alright, well that answers that, doesn’t it buddy.” Mickey cooed to his sleeping son before he made his way to the passenger seat, a seat he hadn’t been in since before Logan was born. “You remember how to drive?”

He should have driven.

“I gave birth, I didn't have brain surgery—“ Sophie laughed as she put the truck into gear and pulled out of the driveway, the two of them were going on their first family outing—to home depot for bubble wrap and boxes for the big move. “Yes I remember how to drive.”

“Okay good, I was just checking.” Mickey strapped himself in and checked his phone, the Garcia family were set to move from Maine to San Diego in just under a week and still not a single person in Mickey's new squad knew he was a new dad. Not Bob or Payback, Coyote or Hangman, Rooster or Phoenix. No one. Not a single one knew about his wife or kid and not a single one knew he was married to the love of his life. His best friend. The human embodiment of true beauty.

“When should we head around to your mums for dinner?” Mickey asked as Sophie drove the open road boarded by paddocks and empty fields. They lived right on the outskirts which meant farms and the quarry where local contractors got their materials from. Sophie never did like the quarry, it gave her the heebie jeebies every time she drove past, like it was calling to her. An unknown force pleading with her to come closer, to look over the edge.

“Maybe just after six when Logan goes down for a—shit!” In the blink of an eye Sophie was overcorrecting the steering wheel, Mickey only caught a glimpse of the stray horse that had shot out onto the road right in front of their truck as his wife swerved but managed soon thereafter to regain control. It was unlike any horses Mickey had seen around the farms that boarded his little slice of paradise. After having grown up in an apartment in Brooklyn he wanted his family to know fresh air and grass.

This horse was different though, it was gone in the blink of an eye.

“Holy shit—“ Sophie sighed as she kept both hands on the steering wheel and felt her heart hammer into her chest. “That was close.”

“Too close.” Mickey added as he turned around to check on little baby Logan. “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive?”

“No no I’m okay.” Sophie was adamant about it, she wanted to contribute to the team. “It was just a freak occurrence, Amor.” As soon as Mickey turned around to face the road, Sophie’s eyes trailed from the road to her husband’s for five seconds, no more no less. “I love you.” She had control, she was totally in control of the car her family were driving in. Everything was totally fine.

He should have driven.

“I love you too—“ Mickey managed as he drank in the sight of his glowingly beautiful wife, the mother of his child. As his eyes trailed back to the road he saw it, the massive pothole that was just completely unavoidable. “Sophie!” Mickey gasped as she hit the hole head on and overturned on the steering as they ran off the road. The plastic water bottle that had been sitting stagnant in the centre console cup holders became dislodged when they slammed through the quarry fencing and rolled right under the breaks as Sophie tried to hit them. “Hit the breaks!” Mickey shouted as he held on for dear life as the quarry edge approached. Holy shit they were gonna go over.

He should have driven.

“I’m trying, I can't!” Sophie tried repeatedly as the truck approached the cliff face of the quarry ditch. “Oh my god oh my god!” As soon as Sophie was able to pull the handbrake in a last stitch effort to stop the truck her little family were in from careening over the edge of the quarry—the two front tires went over the edge as dirty scrapped along the bottom of the cab—stilling the vehicle on a near vertical tilt.

Airbags designed to protect the occupants deployed and in the process, broke Mickey's nose. He wasn’t prepared for the sheer force of the deployment before it smacked him right in the face.

“Oh god!” He groaned as he pushed the sea of deflated airbag down into his lap as the view before him came into clear sight. All he saw was the quarry as they teetered on the edge of the embankment. If the truck slid any further forward? They’d fall to their deaths.

“Holy shit, we’re okay.” Logan had never cried so hard before in his two weeks earthside, the tiny little human in the backseat was just sleeping soundly before all this. Now he was up and hungry and crying out for his mum. “We’re okay—“

“Mickey.” Sophie could barely speak as her hands clutched the steering wheel, her own airbag sat deflated in her lap as fear all but consumed her very soul. “Oh my god.” The car rocked slightly as the wind rushed past and Sophie let out a whimper in fear. “Help—“

“Okay, alright—we’re okay.” Mickey was trying to think about how to get out of this mess without making the car move. They couldn’t stay like this, not trapped on the edge of a ledge that would surely give way. “Can you open your door?” Mickey asked through a shaking voice as he unclipped his seatbelt and opened his car door very, very carefully. He needed to check on Logan, needed to get him out of harm's way. But as he popped the door handle the car slid slightly forward. “Fuck.” He could taste blood but that didn’t matter, what mattered was his family.

“Uh—“ Sophie shook her head as she tried to open her door. But it didn’t budge—the fencing post had jammed the aluminum framing in as they ran through the fence. “No, no I can’t open my door.” Logan wasn’t settling as his cries got louder and louder. “Mick, please you have to get Logan out of this truck, please—“

“Everything’s gonna be okay, I promise—just try and stay still alright.” Mickey was moving as carefully and as slowly as he could to get out of the truck. Once he was out, Sophie really began to cry as she covered her mouth with her hand and moved the deflated airbag to see her knees and thighs were cut up and jammed right up under the steering wheel column.

She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“Hey—“ Mickey cooed as he slowly but surely opened the back door of the truck to unclip his son from his car seat. He was being as careful as he could be to not rock the truck. “Hey little guy you’re alright aren’t you buddy.” Logan was a mess, his little cheeks were red as red could be as his little lungs ignited with oxygen to fuel his cries. “I’ve got you, daddies got you, I’m here, you're alright.”

“Is he okay?” Sophie cried as she tried to remain perfectly still, only moving her hand to slowly press the window button. “Miguel is Logan alright?”

“He’s fine.” Mickey replied once he had the two week old out of his car seat and crying on his chest. “He’s fine, I’m gonna put him down by the tree and I’ll be right back okay.” Before Sophie could protest, Mickey was racing over towards the tree that wasn’t far away—he knew there was a rope in the back of the truck he could tie to tow bar off to if he couldn’t get Sophie out, that was plan B. Plan now was to get her out.

“Shhhh I’ve got you.” Mickey tried to soothe his son as he placed him down on the ground as gently as he could. He took the jumper off he’d been wearing to make a little makeshift bed before he placed Logan in the comfort of his father’s scent. “You’re okay, I’ll be right back.”

When Mickey returned he saw the full extent of his wife’s predicament and knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but they had to try.

“I’m never driving again.” Sophie tried to crack a joke but all Mickey did was try to open the door. It wouldn’t budge for love nor money. This was bad, very bad.

“Okay, I need you to try and move your legs.” He could see how jammed up in the column they truly were but it was one of the only hopes left. Maybe if Sophie could get herself unstuck Mickey could pull her through the window or help her out the passenger side. “Come on Amor, you have to try.”

“I can’t move them.” She sighed through a whimper as she tried to set herself free, the truck slipped a little further and Sophie froze in fear. She was looking death right in the eye now, it was a long way down to the bottom of the quarry. “Mickey—“

“I’m right here, I’m gonna get you out, I just need to buy us some time to figure out how.” He explained. “There’s a rope in the back, I’m gonna tie the truck off to the tree okay, I’ll be right back.”

Sophie Garcia knew she wasn’t getting out of the truck the longer she stared out into the abyss that was the quarry threatening to consume her. She could hear her baby boy crying out for her but there was nothing she could do but accept reality, accept the hand she’d been dealt. All she hoped in that very moment was that her college sweetheart, her best friend and father of her very first and only child would find someone who could love him like she did, or possibly more. She wanted him to be loved forever because Mickey deserved all the love in the world and more. He didn’t deserve this, to lose the love of his life.

And perhaps Sophie wasn’t the love of Mickey's life, perhaps she was just his first, maybe there was some greater love waiting for him around the corner. It brought her a calming sort of comfort as she sat there teetering on the edge of nothingness, trapped in the wreck of her actions. She should have been paying attention.

Mickey grabbed the rope from the back of the truck and tied it around the back of the tow bar, making sure it was secure before he took off running right towards the tall tree that he knew was strong enough to hold the weight of his BT-50.

But when he felt himself stopping, being pulled back by gravity as he fell to his arse, Mickey's heart sank into the very pit of his stomach.

“No—oh god no no no no!!” The rope wasn’t long enough. The rope wasn’t fucking long enough. “Oh god no, please no.”

Mickey felt the truck shift forward as he let go of the rope and raced back to his wife’s side. There wasn’t enough time, he needed more time to get her out, to think, to understand why this was happening. But there wasn’t any time.

“I love you so much.” Sophie cried as Mickey reached in to try and free her legs from being trapped up under the steering wheel column but he was doing more damage than good. “So much Mickey.”

“I need you to pull your legs out right now!” At this point Mickey was a wreck, he didn’t know what else to do. “Pull your damn legs Sophie!!” Her bottom lip quivered as the truck shifted forward again, it was tipping. It was about to go. “NNOOOOOO!!” Mickey shouted as he held onto the door and tried to pull it open. He couldn't do anything else to help his wife.

“Please look after Logan for me—take care of him always.” Sophie cried as Mickey reached in to try one more time to free her. “I love you.” Was the last thing she ever said before Mickey felt two hands on his body before he was being shoved away. The second he fell back onto the ground the truck his wife was still trapped inside of went careening over the edge of the quarry.

“NOOOO!” It felt like time stood still as Mickey watched the love of his life fall to her death over the edge of the quarry cliff face. He laid on his stomach and peered over to see the crumbled aluminum at the bottom—all twisted and broken and shattered. “NNOOOO!”

Logan continued crying even when Mickey had found the courage to pick himself and his son up off the ground to try and find a way down. He probably circled that particular part of the quarry for the better half of half an hour before the next car came down the road that was barely driven on. They saw Mickey walking along the edge and stopped when they saw the skid marks kicked up in the grass but no car in sight.

“You alright there bud?” An older looking gentleman asked as Mickey turned around to face him. Only then did he let himself crumble to his knees when reality set in. He’d just lost the love of his life.

“My wife and I were in an accident—I think, I think she’s—she’s trapped down in the quarry.” He cried out through painful tears. Mickey didn’t have the courage to say she was dead. “Please help me.”

“I’ll call an ambulance.” The older gentleman nodded as Mickey sat with his now soothing son on the ground, rocking back and forth mumbling to himself.

“I should have driven, I should have driven, I should have just driven.”

Until he saw the same white horse, staring at him from across the broken fence he and Sophie had smashed through. Just watching the man who lost it all in the blink of an eye unravel in the mid afternoon glow.

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Are you heading out for the night, Fanboy?” Mickey was one of the last patrons left in the Hard Deck, but he hadn’t taken any notice of the time that had passed as he thought back to the day he lost his wife. The damned day.

“Uh—“ He was going to say yes, going to head out and make sure Logan got to bed because it was way past his bedtime. But he was sleeping soundly in his arms as Mickey approached the bar. “No actually I was uh—I was gonna see if you needed a ride home actually.” It was the boldest Mickey had been since he met you and had started to develop some sort of feeling or two. “Or if you might just want the company while you shut up shop.”

It hurts to tear that bandage off, we don’t wanna see what’s underneath. But maybe it’s not the fear of the pain that holds us back, but maybe it’s the fact we’re afraid to see if the wound underneath is still open.

“I’d love a ride home.” You smiled softly with a nod as you felt the heat in your cheeks rise. “And the company seems pretty good to Flyboy.”

Or if it might actually be healing.

***~***~***~***~***~***~****~**

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #jekyll & hyde // mickey garcia #mickey garcia angst #mickey garcia whump #mickey garcia x reader #tw: car accident

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skyward-floored · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day 16: Flatline

Okay so I picked “flatline” but it’s not... EXACTLY flatlining. His heart’s kinda still going, so it only sort of counts but who cares anyway I got inspired by that one so that’s what it’s about—

...this one’s a little heavy.

(Also thanks @silvrash-797 for some help with ideas :)

Read on ao3

Warnings: serious injury, mention of broken bones, CPR is necessary

————————————————————

It happened so fast that even when he looked back on it later, Four still wasn’t entirely sure what happened.

Their group was standing at the top of a cliff, discussing how best to climb down and studying the long fall below. Wild jumped out with his paraglider and was making lazy circles in the air while he studied the cliff, pointing out what looked like a less steep area for them to climb down.

They’d all just decided it was the safest way when something caught Four’s eye, something small and fast zipping over their heads—

An arrow?

...headed directly for Wild.

“Champion!” he shouted, but Wild hadn’t seen the arrow, and couldn’t turn fast enough to do anything.

It flew straight at him, slitting a hole right across Wild’s paraglider and catching it at the perfect angle to rip the top nearly in two.

Four watched almost in slow motion as Wild let out a single shocked yelp, the arrow embedding in his arm, then dropped like a stone through the air. He fell out of sight into the trees below them, but only seconds went by before Sky and Wind were already leaping down after him, their faces white as they snapped open their own gliders.

Four shook himself out of his shock and began frantically searching for the best way down the cliff, Twilight slamming a mask over his eyes and shooting an arrow into the forest behind them.

Four registered a scream from a monster as he began to go down the less steep side Wild had spotted only moments ago, and seconds later Twilight was beside him, his face drawn with worry. The others stayed back to fight the monsters that were running out of the woods, but Four knew they had the small group handled.

Wild was their priority.

They reached the bottom and Twilight turned into a wolf, nose in the air already sniffing. His ears perked, and Four hopped on his back before he tore off into the woods, paws pounding against the ground.

Four’s heart was in his throat as they ran, heart beating almost as loudly as Twilight’s pawsteps. He’s fine, surely he’s fine, he can survive a fall from that height, it’s not likely but it’s possible oh Goddesses please let him be okay—

Twilight nearly skidded to a stop, and Four had to clutch him in order not to be flung. He jumped off at Twilight’s nudge, and the wolf turned towards a particularly thick section of bushes, shoving his way through with Four following.

And on the other side was Wild, snapped twigs scattered all around him, lying in a small smear of blood.

Twilight practically threw himself forward, changing into a hylian as he moved, and Four ran up beside him in horror. Wild lay crumpled in a heap among the bushes, blood trickling from his nose, his arms both at odd angles. The offending arrow stuck up out of his shoulder, but Four barely noticed, his gaze stuck on the rest of him.

“Wild— Champion, can you hear me?” Twilight said frantically, fluttering his hands overtop of him, unsure of what to do. Four took a slow step closer, unable to look away from Wild, eyes glued to his chest.

Wild was still.

Too still.

“Link, come on,” Twilight choked out, and Four dropped to his knees beside him, still staring at his chest.

“He’s not breathing,” Four said suddenly, the realization like a splash of cold water. “Twi he’s not—”

Twilight made a choked noise and Four lurched forward, carefully setting his head over Wild’s chest.

A thin, thready beat met him.

“He’s not gone yet,” Four gasped, and looked at Twilight, his face twisted in horror, eyes shiny. “We don’t have any fairies, we need Hyrule, you gotta go get him.”

Twilight stared between him and Wild with an agonized expression, but then he bolted back into the woods, shifting into a wolf as he went.

Four turned back to Wild, and breathed out, panic threatening to overwhelm him.

Not right now, you need to get him breathing again! his brain shrieked, and Four quickly moved to make sure Wild was in a good enough position.

Then he started rhythmically pressing on Wild’s chest, trying to remember the exact technique to get him breathing.

It had been a long time since part of him had read that medical book, but he still remembered most of what to do. Up and down in a regular beat on the chest, then breathing air back into the person’s lungs, back and forth to get their breathing going.

He just hoped it would be enough until Twilight came back.

Distantly he heard Sky and Wind run up, heard their gasps of horror, saw in the corner of his eyes as they kneeled at his side, but his focus was on Wild, and trying to get him to breathe.

Push down hard, but not too hard, stop and breathe into his lungs, start the compressions again—

More footsteps pounded next to him, and a hand suddenly pulled at his shoulder, despite how Four tried to throw it off.

He couldn’t stop, he had to keep going or Wild would be in an even worse state when Twilight came back, he might not even be able to be saved—

“Four, we have Hyrule, you need to let him work!” a voice shouted, and Four stopped pushing, letting the hands tug him backwards.

He watched almost dazedly as Hyrule moved to where he’d been kneeling, hands glowing a bright, intense blue. Warriors was next to him, saying something as he felt along Wild’s neck and shoulders, but Four could only watch in silence, blood roaring in his ears.

Please let it have been enough please let it have been enough please—

Wild jerked slightly, and Four heard a gasp of relief beside him, Legend pulling a shaking Hyrule back from Wild. The traveler began to argue, but Legend didn’t budge, and when Hyrule nearly fell over, the veteran pulled him further out of the way.

Four could only watch as Wild slowly stirred, Warriors working to make sure Hyrule had done what he’d needed. Wild’s eyes flickered uncertainly, and blood still trickled from his nose, but he was already trying to sit up, Warriors firmly stopping him from moving.

“He’s breathing, he’s okay, you and Hyrule did it Four,” Twilight breathed from next to him, and Four could only nod, still watching Wild.

The champion couldn’t even keep his eyes open all the way, and Time knelt next to him then, helping Warriors with the arrow Hyrule had accidentally healed into Wild’s arm. Four watched as Twilight moved to grab Wild’s hand, and the champion’s eyes closed again, face creased with pain.

Four swallowed. He’s fine, he’s fine he’s fine he’s fine he’s fine.

Sky gave him a concerned look from where he was kneeled, and moved closer to him, a hand settling over his.

“Are you all right Smithy?” he asked, and Four nodded yet again, reaching up to rub at his cheek.

His hand came back damp.

Four blinked in surprise, staring at the tears on his fingers and wondering when exactly he’d started crying. Why was he even crying at all? He wasn’t hurt, and Wild was okay now, breathing and being tended to by the others. There wasn’t any reason...

A wet hiccup suddenly escaped him, and Sky moved forward and pulled him into his arms, rubbing his back when a sound more like a sob came out.

“You did it Four, he’s alive, he’s okay,” Sky said a bit shakily, and Four swallowed, trying not to utterly break down in Sky’s arms.

He wasn’t usually one for hugging, at least not all the time. But under the current circumstances, the memory of Wild’s motionless body still sharp in his mind...

He sank further into Sky’s arms, and didn’t resist when he pulled his sailcloth over him, a hand running through his hair.

“He’s okay,” Sky repeated quietly, and Four clung to those words like a drowning man.

He’s okay.

#I have so many concerning tabs open right now #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu four #lu wild #linked universe fanfic #whumptober 2023 #day 16 #flatline #tw cpr #tw injury #ask to tag #writing from the floor #my hands are so cold typing this is tricky grrr #anyway I’m not cpr certified or anything but I did my best #don’t take this as medical fact or anything

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one-piece-aus · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day 17

Kid x Reader

Ahoy! Remember that angsty Kid story I wrote last year for Whumptober? I saw you guys wanted a sequel so I decided to write the prequel to that from Kid's POV! (I do have the idea of making this a series but I need more motivation) Anyway, if you can read the other part to this HERE

Enjoy the story! ^-^

"Kid, you've been acting different lately," Killer said as he stood beside his friend.

"You don't have to remind me," Kid growled, shifting his stance while keeping his arms folded as he leaned against the school's gate. His eyes were fixated on a group of friends walking by... no, he's only looking at one person, you.

"It's the girl, isn't it?" Killer stated, following Kid's gaze.

Kid grumbled in response and averted his eyes from the group to glare at the ground. Even with you out of sight, you weren't out of his mind. You haunted his mind and wouldn't leave, ironic because you didn't exist to him before Ms. Makino paired the two of you for an English project this year.

"When are you gonna tell her?" Killer asks turning back to the redhead.

"I don't plan to."

"Why not? She gets along with us just fine," Killer pointed out, which is seen as a good sign in the Kid Gang since most of the girls who try to run after them have a distaste for most of their members.

"She's probably already dating that goth freak."

"Who is?"

Kid and Killer turn to see Law approaching them.

"Fuck off Trafalgar!"

"I came to ask a favour, I thought I was going look for a way to bargain but it looks like you need information." Law smirks.

Killer glances at Kid who is already growling at Law, "Kid, if you don't want to ask her directly to find out, this is the next best thing."

"I know," Kid growls, loathing at the thought of asking Law for something. "Fine! Do you know if [Y/n] is with that freak Hawkins?"

Law shook his head. "I've seen Basil hang around [Y/n] but he's not dating anyone. He says romance is nothing but delusions and a distraction in high school, maybe you should heed his words Eustass."

"I don't ask for your opinion Trafalgar!" Kid flipped him off.

"Well you did ask for information, and now you gotta pay up."

"Like hell I will after-"

"Do you know if [Y/n] is with anyone?" Killer asked for Kid, figuring if they get more info Kid will help Law without a fuss.

"I don't, but if anyone in this school would know, it's probably Basil," Law shrugs. "He knows her the most, probably the only one who knows her. Not even Strawhat or his friends know about her, and that's hard to find these days."

"I know her."

"Sure you do Eustass, but I suggest talking to Basil."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You wish to know if [Y/n] is single?" Hawkins questioned, closing his locker door and turning to Kid.

"That's what I just asked."

"May I inquire why?"

"I just want to know," Kid told him, folding his arms.

"To answer your question, no, she is not with anyone at the moment," Hawkins stated. "However, if you're wanting to pursue her, I would advise against that."

"Let hell you'll stop me!" Kid shouted, side-punching the locker beside him.

"I'm not saying I will," Hawkins said. "But I think you should reconsider."

"What do you mean?" Kid asked narrowing his eyes at the blond.

"Knowing [Y/n]'s past, it's clear that you're not suited for her."

"And what? You are!?"

"No, our relationship is as she once stated 'loners who stick together', but you, on the other hand, are a bit more complicated now that you've developed feelings for her."

"That's none of your business!"

"Perhaps not, but it is [Y/n]'s business and as someone who has known [Y/n] for quite some time now, I can't help but be concerned about her well-being," Hawkins states while maintaining eye contact with Kid. When the redhead doesn't respond, Hawkins walks past him to go to his club when he stops. "There's more to [Y/n] that you haven't seen. If you're serious about this, I suggest you find out before you go any further."

Kid stood there, hearing Hawkins' footsteps echo further down the hall.

Did he really not know you? Sure, Kid might not know your childhood or the other schools you went to, but he didn't think that'd be a big deal. He hasn't been to your house yet either but most families wouldn't want a member of a gang in their house... No, that's not an excuse. If he's going to get to know this side he hasn't seen, he has to set that aside.

Kid decided that the next time he sees you he'll take you around town to see if he could take a step closer to knowing you. At least, that's what he wanted to do, but you were making it hard to do.

You no longer stayed in your shared English class, always asking to study somewhere else. He never saw you in the halls, not even when Hawkins walked by. You were nowhere to be found at lunch, and if you were in a club at the end of the day, Kid didn't see you in there because he checked every club meeting to find you.

Two weeks passed since this started, and Kid normally didn't like assuming these kinds of things, at least not when it comes to his friends, yet his mind couldn't stop whispering this thought to him.

You were avoiding him.

Tag: @gnarlycrys @roseoftrafalgar @bookandyarndragon

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unexpectedstormy · 7 months

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Avalanche Rescue Pt 1

Whumptober Day 25: Buried Alive -- Wolfie, everyone

958 words

TW - broken bone, asphyxiation

******

Before the snow around him had stopped moving, Wolfie dug up up up. His paws broke through the surface snow and his nose quickly followed. Fresh air, cold air, snow-laden air, no brother smell—that’s bad bad bad. Quickpaw digging, gotta leave snow den. Wiggle wiggle wiggle—Wolfie pawed and pushed and wriggled his way out of the snowy cocoon the avalanche had buried him in. Wolfe shook the powder snow off his coat, filling the air with sparkly ice.

Behind him a small patch of evergreen trees had stopped the snow slide, before him the mountainside stretched upward toward the sky. To the left, mounds of snow he couldn’t see over, and to the left was more downhill to distant trees.

“Packmates?” He yipped spinning around searching for his friends. “Where? Pups? Where?” Gotta find them quick. Gotta dig them out. Snow bury good for meat, bad for Hylians.

“WOLFIE!”

Wolfie whipped around and caught sight of Hyrule sitting on a shield and riding it down the slope, using his feet to slow himself. Hyrule came alongside Wolfie before digging his feet to stop.

Quick sniff! No smell of blood, only fear and sweat and snow. Wolfie licked Hyrule’s face twice before Hyrule pushed him off and stood up. One pup found, seven pups missing.

“Did you see where anyone went?” Hyrule asked, then turned away and shouted. “WHERE ARE YOU?? CAN YOU HEAR ME??”

“Here!”

“I’m here!”

Two voices answered. Wolfie took off following one, catching a whiff in the disturbed air—Old Father! Wolfie took a running leap off a packed mound of drifted snow and nearly bowled over Old Father.

“Wolfie!” Time exclaimed dodging out of the way of the flying canine. Wolfie landed and spun around. Quick sniff—no blood!

“I’m fine, go find the others!” Time said, but Wolfie was already off in search of the second voice. Two pups found, six pups missing.

“I’M HERE!” Young voice squealed—Baby Pup!

“Where? I don’t see you!” Hyrule called, entering the trees.

“Look up!”

Wolfie skidded to a halt next to Hyrule and they both looked up into the craggy branches. Wind draped awkwardly over two branches.

“Hi!” Wolfie barked. Quick sniff—small blood—but no worry. Also sap and armpits and lunch cheese and evergreen.

“What are you doing? Get down from there!” Hyrule said.

“I’m trying! I’m trying! Geez!” Wind answered.

“Are you two alright?” Time asked running up to them as fast as the snow would allow.

That was three pups found, five pups missing. Nose to the ground, gotta sniff sniff out the others. This way and that, up and down, sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff—ooh what was that? Feathers and potion and lunchfood and ozone—Sky Pup! Stronger stronger stronger—

“Wolfie!” Sky called to him.

There he was! Sky pup! Sitting, half buried, legs buried in snow.

“Coming!” Wolfie called to the half-buried Sky Pup. He ran up to him.

“Ahh careful!” Sky exclaimed and Wolfie stopped short and didn’t touch. Quick sniff—fear, pain, alarm, feathers—

“I’m hurt,” Sky said. “My arm—it might be broken.” He hugged it to his chest with a pained expression.

“What?!” Wolfie whined.

“Can you help? My legs are stuck and I can’t dig them out!”

Wolfie whined, indecisive. Though Sky Pup hurt, trapped, though four pups found, four pups still missing. Sky pup hurt, but not in deadly danger. Sky Pup could wait.

“Wait here!” Wolfie barked. “I send help!” Wolfie took off back toward the others. He bounded over the snow leaping through the powder, skidding on the crust.

“Help! Stuck! Hurt!” Wolfie called ahead to the cluster of packmates digging in the snow.

“WOLFIE HELP!” Hyrule screamed. “WARS IS BURIED! HE CAN’T BREATHE!”

Wolfie galloped onward breaking into their crowd.

Hand! Hand sticking up in the snow—quick sniff! Battle Pup! Fear fear sweat snow—but alive! Lick! Hand moved! Touched Wolfie’s nose!

“Help us dig!” Old Father said. Wolfie jumped in digging where packmates dug. Dig dig dig dig! Have to find Battle Pup’s face! Sniff sniff sniff—wait! Battle pup not there! Not where they dig! Sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff—there! Smell of tea and herbs and spit and tears.

“Here! Not there!” Wolfie told the others and started digging.

“What? Are we in the wrong place?!” Wind asked.

Wolfie dug a hole, dug it deep. Hands joined in beside him, Old Father’s big rough hands and Wander Pup’s delicate but strong hands, dug out the sides, widened the hole. Stronger smell stronger stronger!

“Hurry!” Wind cried. “His hand just went limp!”

Dig dig dig—FUR! YELLOW FUR! FOUND HIS HEAD.

“Found! Found!” Wolfie yapped. Battle Pup face down, one arm stretched out behind sticking out of the snow, other arm covering face made an air bubble. Sniff sniff sniff… no fresh breath.

“THERE HE IS!” Time exclaimed. “Be careful Wolfie! Don’t hurt him!”

“WAKE UP!” Wolfie barked as loud as he could and nibbled Battle Pup ear. Wolfie scruffed by Old Father, pulled out of hole, make room for Wander Pup.

“Wars! Wars! Can you hear me?” Hyrule put a hand in Battle’ Pup’s fur. “Guys I don’t think he’s—”

A jolting gasp! A deep inhale!

“Breathe! Come on! Keep breathing!” Old Father begged. Wolfie lunged forward back into the hole. Sniff sniff sniff lick sniff—fresh breath! Battle pup lives on!

“Hey! He squeezed my hand!” Wind shouted.

Once again, Old Father pulled Wolfie out of the hole.

“You did good, Wolfie,” he said. “We can take it from here. Go find the others.”

Five pups found, three pups missing. If any buried like Battle pup, no air left. Gotta find right now!

(to be continued tomorrow...)

#linked universe #whumptober 2023 #lu wolfie #lu sky #lu warriors #lu time #lu wind #lu hyrule #scheduled post #this story will be put on A03 in a couple of days #once it's been fully posted here

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 7 months

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That's What Family is For (Part 2)

AI-Less Whumptober 2023: 16. Hospital, 21. Shock Fandom: DC, Batman, Batfam, Damian Wayne, Batsis!reader, f!reader Summary: After being kidnapped and offering to take Damian's place to be tortured, you miraculously find yourself waking up back home. Damian has a new outlook on your relationship, but will a secret from your past ruin everything? Word Count: 5231 TW: Hospital, Aftermath of Torture, Mentions of Past Torture, Mentions of Death, Forced to Watch, Crying, Coma, Past Trauma Note: Today is the 2 year anniversary of posting Part 1 of this fic. Thank you so incredibly much for your patience and support as I worked on this and I hope it lives up to Part 1 💖 Part of @ailesswhumptober

Part 1

You have no idea how long you were asleep for, but when you finally managed to drag yourself into consciousness, you couldn’t remember why every inch of your body was in a strange state of concurrent numbness and agony, or why you couldn’t seem to see out of your left eye. It was only when you caught sight of the two casts stretching from the soles of your feet up to the top of your thighs that it all came flooding back to you.

You and Damian had been kidnapped in an attempt to get a ransom from Bruce. To prove they meant business, the kidnappers were going to torture Damian but you had offered to take his place. What happened next was just a blur of blood and pain: The glint of a large knife. The blunt impact of a bat. But mercifully, you couldn’t remember much else. Just that it had been bad. Really bad.

You tried to take a mental inventory of what hurt and what sort of injuries you had sustained, but there was too much damage. All the individual pain bled into each other until it just felt like one massive wound. Every breath you took made your chest, ribs, and throat ache, your head was pounding, and you couldn’t move either leg or your left arm. All you could manage was a slight turn of your head as you looked towards the door but even that small motion sent new waves of pain through you, causing a low moan to slip from your lips.

Almost instantly, Jason came rushing into the room, panic etched onto his face. Yet the second he saw you looking at him, his face split into a massive grin. The kind you couldn’t remember seeing on him since he returned from the dead. And despite everything, that sight warmed your heart.

Licking your cracked lips, you tried to speak but nothing happened. Swallowing a few times, you finally managed a barely audible, “Hey, Jaybird.”

The words sounded funny, thick and slightly lispy but Jay’s smile only widened. He hurried to your bedside and dropped into the chair that had been left there. “Damn, sis. You look terrible.”

You knew he was trying to keep the mood light, but you could hear the tears hiding just behind his words. Giving your best attempt at a smile, you croaked, “Even like this, I bet I still look better than you.”

“Yeah, probably,” he chuckled. “That voice though…. They said it would probably be hard to speak for a few days because of the tube and–” He cut himself off, but you knew what he was going to say. Because all your screams of pain had damaged it.

Swallowing again, you tried to make your voice sound as normal as possible. “Yeah, well, you better be careful. You keep smoking all those cigarettes, this is what you’ll sound like in a few years.”

“Even now you gotta hassle me about those?”

“If you would just quit, I wouldn’t have to get on you about the–”

Your words were cut off as your body fell prey to a fit of coughing. It tore at your throat like daggers and your chest felt like it was shattering into pieces. It only lasted for a few seconds but when it passed, you were left panting and moaning in pain.

When you finally managed to pull yourself together once more and looked back at Jason, his smile had completely vanished, replaced with a thin-lipped grimace. His eyes drifted over your broken body before returning to your face. “So… Honestly. How do you feel?”

“How do you think?” you wheezed. “Like someone ran over me with.. with a… wit– oh forget it. I’m in too much pain to think of something clever. I feel shitty.”

“What hurts?”

“The easier question is ‘what doesn’t hurt?’. And why can’t I open my left eye?”

“Alfred taped it closed for now. It looked pretty messed up.”

You nod slightly. “Permanent?”

“Not sure,” he muttered, staring down at the floor. “They had to wait until you woke up to fully assess the damage.”

You nodded again, the dread growing in the pit of your stomach. But you have to know the answer to your next question, no matter how terrifying the answer might be. In a small voice, you ask, “How bad overall?”

Jason hesitated. “Maybe you should wait for Bruce or Alfred to–”

“How bad, Jay?”

Still avoiding your eye, he shifted in his chair before answering. “Bad. The worst of the damage is on your left side. Your arm was dislocated, your cheekbone was destroyed, you’re missing several teeth, and your eye is… well, I already mentioned that. Also, most of your ribs were pretty much shattered and the ones that weren’t are cracked. The pieces punctured your lungs in multiple places. Your legs…The knives thankfully missed all the major arteries, but Alfred said there still might be some nerve damage.”

“Is that all?” You had meant for the question to be sarcastic, but the quiver in your voice made it sound more like a desperate plea.

Jason took a long, deep breath. “It also took eight surgeries, four blood transfusions, and three resuscitations to get you stable.”

“Yeah, that feels about right.” You clenched your jaw tightly as you struggled to hold back your tears, but that just sent a fresh jolt of pain through your mouth. Using your tongue, you gently prod the three new gaps where teeth used to be. No wonder your words sounded funny.

In a soft whisper, you asked, “I’m done, aren’t I? There’s no coming back from this, not really. Even if I can get back to a halfway normal state, I’m never going to be able to put the costume back on. No going on patrol, no more protecting the city, no more being a hero.”

A small sob bubbled in your throat. When Bruce had taken you in all those years ago, you were a mess. Every night, you woke up screaming from nightmares—memories—of watching your parents tortured to death in front of you while you were helpless to do anything. You had felt so powerless. But then Bruce told you about his secret life. That he was the man in the mask who had rescued you from that horrible place. And he taught you how to be strong, how to be for others what he had been for you. He had given your life a purpose but now….it had been taken from you just like your parents had been.

As the tears began to slip down your face, Jason carefully took your hand, rubbing the back with his thumb as he leaned in to stare you directly in your good eye. “Hey, don’t think that way. Bruce was able to come back from a broken back, I came back from the dead, and you… you can come back from this. It’s not gonna be easy and it’ll take a lot of hard work, but if anyone can do it, you can.”

The tears began to flow faster as you finally let the sob you had been holding back free. Squeezing Jason’s hand as tightly as you were able, you cried, “Thank you, Jay. Thank you for everything. I can’t even imagine making it through what comes next without my brothers by my side.”

Jason snatched his hand back from your grasp and pushed back in his chair, his expression growing dark as he spat, “Don’t. Don’t thank me. While you were sacrificing everything for Damian, while you were lying there dying, I was here. Too weak to help you when you needed me most.”

“Jay–”

“I wanted to be there, I did, I just…” His sharp tone crumbled into a near sob as he buried his face in his hands. “I was fine until he picked up the bat. Then it all came rushing back. All I could see was the Joker standing over me with that crowbar and…and I….” His hands muffled his cries, but you could still see the way his shoulders shook as he sobbed.

You had forgotten that they had sent a live feed of your torture to all of Wayne Industries which was probably how Bruce had located you and Damian. Jason never talked about what had happened to him all those years ago in that warehouse, but you had been waiting in the Batcave when Bruce had brought Jason’s body home. You still remembered the bruises and blunt force trauma that couldn’t have been made from the explosion. And you also recalled how the sight of your brother’s broken form sent you into a hysterical fit, not only over the loss of the boy you loved like family but also because it brought back all of the scars from your parents’ deaths. You had felt incredibly guilty later once Bruce and Alfred calmed you down that you had made Jason’s death all about you and your past traumas. But Bruce reminded you that your pain and grief was valid, whenever it hit you, and despite the circumstances, you needed to take care of yourself first or you weren’t going to be able to help anyone else.

Just like Jason needed to take care of whatever horrors he had relived before coming to help you.

It took a lot of determination and concentration, but you slowly moved your hand towards Jason. Luckily, he was sitting on your right side since that was the only arm you could move at the moment, but it still took an achingly long time to close the short distance between you.

As you lay your hand on his shoulder, his head jerked up. When he saw what you had done, his eyes—the blue magnified by the tears about to fall—grew wide. Smiling, you brushed your fingertips lightly across his cheek and said, “Jay, I understand why you didn’t come. There was nothing you could have done and you needed a chance to deal with your own pain. And I’m sorry that I was the reason you had to relive that experience.”

Jason shook his head furiously and clutched at your hand. “No! This was not your fault! All you did was protect Damian. The only person to blame is that psychopath Moore.” His face darkened. “Bruce better be glad they threw that son of a bitch in Blackgate because if he had gotten away, nothing and no one would have stopped me from hunting him down and putting a bullet between his eyes.”

“See? You are such a loving, protective brother who would do anything for me.” His expression softened slightly. “Besides, you even just admitted. Moore is the only one to blame here. Not me, and not you. So, please, don’t beat yourself up over this. I’m still here and I need you now more than ever.” You squeezed his hand as tightly as you were able and after a moment, he returned both the squeeze and the smile. You nodded softly then changed the subject. “How is Damian handling all of this?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” Jason nodded towards the other side of the room.

It took you a moment and quite a bit of pain to turn your head enough so your right eye could see where he was gesturing, but when you managed it, your smile grew wider.

Curled into a tight ball, Damian was fast asleep on the couch on the far side of the room. He looked so small and it reminded you that despite his upbringing, he was still just a kid, which made you feel better about your condition. If one of you had to be lying in this bed, you would have offered yourself up every time.

Jason chuckled softly to himself as he saw your face. “He’s barely left the room since they brought the two of you home. Bruce tried getting him to go back to school the last two days, but he flat-out refused. Said he wasn’t going anywhere until you woke up.”

“Really? That doesn’t sound like Damian.”

“Well, I think his actual words were ‘Tt. Father, I cannot be bothered with those trivial lessons while my sister’s fate is still uncertain. I am needed here. Yes, I have a geography test next week, but I have traveled to more countries than my so-called teacher could even possibly name. This is more important.’”

Despite the mocking—though fairly accurate—impression Jason had made, your eyes welled up with tears once more. Damian had called you ‘sister’. It was the first time you could ever remember him doing so. No. That wasn’t true. He had said it when Bruce and Dick had shown up to save them. In fact, the echoing word was the last thing you remembered before the world had gone dark.

Swallowing hard to clear your throat, you asked, “Um, do you think…Would he be upset if I asked you to wake him up?”

“Yo! Demon Spawn! Wake up!” Before you could stop him, Jason hurled a pillow across the room so it slammed into Damian’s sleeping form.

The kid instantly leaped to his feet in a crouched position, ready to take on any and all attackers. But he straightened up when he saw Jason’s smug grin and your weak smile staring back at him instead. Rushing to your side, he said, “Sister! You are awake!”

You tilted your head slightly to look at him better. “So are you. Sorry for the rude wake-up. That was all Jay.”

“Hey!” Jason huffed indignantly. “You asked me to wake him up and I did! You just never said how.”

Damian glared at him out of the corner of his eyes. “Yes, Todd has been exceedingly insufferable this last week while you have been injured—”

“W-week? I’ve been out of it for a week?” You felt your blood run cold. You knew things were bad, but for some reason the thought of you laying in this bed unconscious for the past 7 days made your condition seem so much worse.

Jason and Damian exchanged a worried look. Then Jason cleared his throat and said, “Yeah…. It's been eight days since you and Damian were kidnapped. They had to keep you in a medically induced coma for the first five days while they operated. Then when they brought you out, they had to dope you up with so many pain meds that you were out of it even when you were awake. They tried to lower your dose but they had to up them again when they removed the breathing tube and you wouldn’t stop moaning…So, yeah. It’s been a week.”

You let your head fall back against the pillow as tears began to sting your eyes. Obviously, it would have taken you time to recover from that level of injury, but a week? No, actually, eight days. And that was just the start of your recovery. The amount of time, therapy, and hard work it would take you just to be able to stand again, let alone walk or fight, was dizzying to think about. Despite the fact Jason had reassured you differently, you didn’t see how you weren’t done after this. How were you supposed to bounce back?

As the tears finally became too much and began slipping down your face, you whispered, “You all should have just let me go.”

“No!” The ferocity in Damian’s voice startled you and you looked over to see his small hands curled into tight fists as his face bore a determined scowl that could rival Bruce’s. “No. You do not get to give up. Not now. Not now that the worst of it is behind you. You never once gave up while we were captured. Despite everything that sadistic fiend did to you, you fought to protect me. We would not have been in that situation if it was not for me and I will repay my debt to you by remaining by your side to ensure you get through this.”

You stared at Damian for a long time, a mix of pride, adoration, and guilt stirring in your chest. Seeing how he wanted to stand by you and help you through what came next meant the world to you. The Damian who climbed into your car eight days ago wouldn’t have done so. However, you couldn’t let him make such a vow without knowing all the facts.

Shifting your eye to look at Jason, you muttered, “Can you give us a minute alone?”

He hesitated, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and his younger brother, but finally, he nodded. “Yeah, sure. I’ll go let everyone else know you’re not only awake but coherent this time. They’ll want to see you.”

“Thanks, Jay. I’ll have Damian let you know when we’re done.”

He nodded, shot Damian one last look, and left the room.

Now that you were alone, you carefully motioned for Damian to take the chair Jason had been sitting in earlier and he silently did as you wished…for once. He looked so small compared to the memory of Jason’s hulking form sitting there just moments before and tears once more stung your eyes as it hit you all over again how young he was to have experienced what the two of you just went through. You hadn’t planned on having this conversation until you were a little better, but he deserved to know the truth and not continue blaming himself for what happened.

Taking a deep breath, you said, “It’s not your fault, Dami. He was never after you. You were only there because of me.”

“Tt,” Damian scoffed, folding his arms across his chest. “You have no proof of that. As you said in that warehouse, I am Father’s blood heir. If anyone was the target, it would have been me.”

You shook your head. “It was my car, Damian. The car I insisted you get in even though you didn’t want to. If I would’ve just let you walk home like you wanted–”

“They could have been monitoring me and adjusted their plans when I joined you in your vehicle. You still cannot be confident–”

“I know Moore.”

Damian blinked in surprise. “Yo–you what?”

You nodded sadly. “I know him. I didn’t realize it at first because it was so long ago and I’ve tried so hard to forget that day, but it was him. After I had passed out from Moore’s torture, they unhooked me from the chains and just let me drop to the floor. The pain of the landing woke me up for just a minute and I tried to beg them to put me back up because I knew otherwise they’d be coming for you, but I was in so much pain I could barely form a sentence. Moore saw I was awake and came to stand over me with that nauseatingly cocky look on his face.”

You shuttered at the memory of it and knew it was an image that would haunt your nightmares for years to come. But you pressed on. “Then he said, ‘For what it’s worth, you should be proud. You died a lot more honorably than your parents did.’ And that’s when I remembered.”

Tears slipped from your eyes as you allowed all the walls and safeguards you had built up over the years to finally come down and you recalled the night your life changed forever. “It’s been so long and he was just a kid, no older than Tim. But then again, I was even younger.” Taking a deep breath, you looked up at Damian. “How much do you know about my life before Bruce took me in?”

Damian shrugged one shoulder. “Just what I said in the car. Your parents were tortured to death by a gang who left you tied up with their bodies until the police found you. Then when he heard what happened and that you had no one left, Father took you in.”

You nodded and wiped a tear from your eye. “My parents owned a little shop near Crime Alley at the time. It was a hole-in-the-wall thrift store that barely made enough to put food on the table but my parents loved that place. It was their pride and joy so when the local gang came by to demand protection money, they refused. They didn’t want their place associated with gangsters. Which of course the gang didn’t like. We lived in a small apartment above it and one night, the gang broke in while we were sleeping. I was only six at the time and I didn’t understand what was happening. I just knew some bad people dragged us out of bed and into the basement where they tied us all up to chairs. I was sitting between my parents as they begged and pleaded for our lives, but even then I still didn’t understand. Not until one of the men pulled out a knife.”

A humorless chuckle fell softly from your lips. “I guess in hindsight, I should have remembered Moore sooner. The way he tortured and hurt me was very similar to what the gang did to my parents. Just small cuts that got deeper and deeper. Small weapons that got more and more damaging until….”

A small hiccupy sob slipped from your lips as everything came flooding back to you. Your father screaming in pain as the gang broke bone after bone and cut off his fingers one by one. Your mother hysterically sobbing as she begged them to let you all go. The way those pleas eventually shifted to just begging them to let you go. And then the eerie silence that fell across the room after your mother had taken her last breath.

Damian took your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It is alright, sister. You do not have to continue.”

You shot him an appreciative smile but shook your head. “No. It’s okay.” Taking several deep breaths to compose yourself, you continued. “There was one gang member who stayed huddled in the corner, refusing to watch as the rest of the gang had their fun.”

“Moore.”

You nodded. “I didn’t know it at the time, but yeah. He had started by anxiously pacing around at the back of the room but once things turned really violent….he couldn’t take it. He tried to run back upstairs but the gang forced him to stay and watch. Said he needed to learn how things were done. And after the other day, I’d say he learned his lesson pretty well.”

“And you are certain it was him?”

“Absolutely. I stared at him through most of it, partly because I couldn’t stand to watch what they were doing to my parents, but also partly because I could tell he was just as horrified as I was and yet he did nothing to stop it. I wanted to scream at him to help us, to do something, but I also was too afraid to speak up. And when they were done and the gang members left, he was the last one out of the room. He looked at me as if he wanted to apologize or set me free or…I don’t know. But instead, he just turned and ran up the stairs. The next time I saw him was when he walked into that room we were both chained up in.” You scoffed as you felt a lump growing in your throat. “I guess we picked up right where we left off, huh?”

The physical damage that had been done to you was hard enough to bear, but now realizing the connection your tormentor had to your past made you want to vomit. Moore may not have laid a finger on you back then, but he had been there to witness the worst day of your life. His friends had been the ones who did the same thing to your parents—only your parents hadn’t been lucky enough to survive. You wondered how long Moore had been planning this, how long he had wanted to finish the job that had been started all those years ago. Perhaps it was some sort of decades-long revenge plot since your parents’ deaths had eventually led to the arrest of most of the other gang members and the collapse of his gang. Or it was possible he just wanted to blackmail Bruce as he said and he thought using you to do it was just a bonus. Jason said Moore had been taken to Blackgate so once you were better, you could go try to get some answers. But at the moment, you weren’t sure if you even wanted them.

You had been so deep in thought that you only just realized that Damian had been silently staring down at your interlocked hands for the past few minutes. His expression was nigh-on unreadable and you were once again reminded of Bruce. Given enough time, support, and guidance, you could see him growing into a man worthy to carry on his father’s legacy. You just hoped he would want you to be around to see it.

You wouldn’t blame Damian if his attitude towards you reverted back to how it was before all of this happened. After all, he was put through hell because of you. He had warmed up to you solely because you had offered yourself up to be tortured instead of him—yet he never should have been there in the first place. Maybe this would actually make your relationship worse. Maybe Damian would cut you off completely. Maybe—

“Sister, I cannot imagine how hard this realization must have been for you and I…I am sorry.”

His voice cut through your internal spiraling and you blinked in surprise. “Wh-what?” With all the scenarios you had swirling around in your head, hearing Damian apologize had never even crossed your mind. “But Dami you’re not…mad?”

Now it was his turn to look surprised. “Why would I be mad?”

“I’m the reason you were there. I thought once you knew the whole story and realized that, you would hate me for getting you dragged into everything. Or at least–” you dropped your gaze down to the bed “–at least I thought you’d go back to not really liking me.”

“Oh…” The small boy shifted in his chair. “I can understand why you may have come to that conclusion but knowing your history with Moore does not change how I feel about what you did for me. You saved me long before you remembered who he was or your connection to him. And even that still does not prove you were the one he was after, not me. I am the youngest and, as such, am perceived to be the most vulnerable and incapable of protecting myself—Tt, though in reality, it is Drake who fits that description.”

You smiled as you shook your head. Tim would disagree with that statement, but Damian’s point was still valid. To those who did not know of his past upbringing or training, it would be easy to dismiss him as a young, spoiled, entitled brat who never had to lift a finger his entire life. But they couldn’t be farther from the truth. Despite being a kid, Damian had already experienced more than 90% of people would in their lifetime. Hell, when he was the same age you were when you watched your parents die, he had already been training for years with the League of Assassins. Moore had just gotten lucky when he grabbed the two of you: if Damian hadn’t woken up hurt and already chained up, he probably could have incapacitated every one of your kidnappers.

Damian continued. “Regardless of who the target was, it does not change the fact you volunteered yourself in my place when they wanted to take me. And despite the pain you were in, you tried to hold on as long as possible so I would not be forced to take your place. How could any other detail matter except my sister loves me enough to die for me?”

The lump in your throat got bigger until you felt like you couldn’t breathe. You managed to nod your head quickly and repeatedly as you choked out, “I would. Because I do. I do love you, Damian.” He stared down at the floor, shifting once more in his chair as his fist tightened around yours. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. You knew how hard it was for him but you could see he wanted to say it and that was enough. So, squeezing his hand back, you whispered, “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it back.”

His shoulders dropped with visible relief and he gave you a small, grateful smile. Then, in a tiny voice, he muttered, “But I do though.”

It was the final straw. Tears began flowing down your cheeks as a small cry burst from behind your lips. There was a sharp pain in your chest as you disturbed your injuries, but it seemed unimportant at the moment. You tried to control yourself as much as possible, knowing emotions and displays of affection bothered Damian, but it was all too overwhelming. For so long you had tried to get him to at least tolerate you, but this? This was more than you ever dared to hope for.

Damian sat quietly as you took a moment to compose yourself. Despite the added pain you incurred from your crying, you couldn’t remember feeling this happy in a while…..or this worn out. Now that you had cleared the air with Damian and everything was better than expected, you realized how much you had been struggling to stay awake.

Another wave of exhaustion hit you and it took almost everything you had to murmur, “I know Jay said everyone was waiting to see me but I think….I think I need to rest for a bit. Could you ask them to wait until I take a small nap?”

He nodded. “Of course, sister. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Dami.”

You expected him to leave but instead, he squeezed your hand hard and looked you dead in the eye. “I mean it. Whatever you need. You will heal and things will return to normal. And I will be by your side for all of it.”

You smiled up at him, fighting to keep your eyes open. “Thank you, Dami.”

He laid your hand gently back on the bed before standing from his chair and walking to the door. He glanced over his shoulder at you one last time, nodded, and then disappeared.

With no reason left to hold on, you let yourself collapse back into the bed as you gave into the darkness that was dancing on the edge of your vision.

And as you felt yourself being pulled under to unconsciousness once more, you couldn’t help but smile. Despite everything that had happened and the long road to recovery that lay before you, you had a father and four brothers who loved you and would be by your side through all of it. Because at the end of the day, that’s what family is for. And you were so thankful to have found this family.

Tag list: @loverhymeswith, @tavners, @merlehs, @mayhem24-7forever, @sunshineflowerchild789, @schaarfyx, @dawnwriterimagines, @uniquelyabnormallyoriginal, @hjgdhghoe, @void-j3ster, @miadiedhere, @remuslupinselbowpatch, @jadynchronicle, @blue-aconite, @astraeasworld, @aakifah5, @freyathehuntress, @theautisticduck, @agent-nobody-knows, @nani-nani-nani, @hrtzsoob, @edgycatx, @nellako, @deppresseddyslexic

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ysljoon · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 6-Simon 'Ghost' Riley

✲Prompt: “It should have been me.”

✲Warnings: angst, death, car crash, feelings of grief

✲a/n: im having so much fun with whumptober so far buuuuut i think i gotta slow down with the posting after this week its getting really draining to post every day. its not set in stone, but we'll see this is just a heads up that if you see my posts slow down you know why

✲MINORS DNI (have your age in your bio or you're getting blocked)

The days have been devoid of color since your death. It’s been four months since your tragic passing. It was so unexpected. You were on your way home from work and had Simon on speakerphone as you were driving. You were just droning on about your day at work telling him that nothing spectacular or out of the ordinary had happened. He was half listening as he was folding up a fresh load of laundry that was still warm from the dryer. You were less than six minutes away from your home until a car suddenly shot out into the road and despite your fast reflexes you couldn’t brake in time and the two cars collided. Simon heard the commotion and felt his blood run cold. He shouted your name hoping that he would hear your voice call out to him, but it was nothing. He heard the clamor of other people’s voices on the phone, but none of theirs was yours.

He flung down the clothes, grabbed his keys and sprinted out the door. His eyes quickly scanned the screen of his phone trying to pinpoint your location and started to drive. He was thankful you weren’t too far from home and was able to reach your location in no time. He dissociated the entire ride. He was out of it and just needed to see your face to snap back into reality. The road was already surrounded by police cars and ambulances and the sirens were just a dull buzz in Simon’s ears. None of this was making sense for him. He rushed over to the closest officer to see if he could get any insight on how you were.

“My wife is in this crash! I need to see her and make sure she’s okay. She drives the silver sedan!” The officer jumped when he turned around and saw Simon’s hulking figure and heard his loud and abrasive voice. “Sir, you need to stand back. Once we retrieve your wife from the wreckage we’ll be able to tell you on how to proceed.” Simon was anxiously waiting trying not to make this harder than it needed to be. He saw the paramedics bring out a gurney towards the car you drove and once he saw your limp and bloody body he lost all control. He sprinted towards the ambulance that you were put in, but the paramedics closed the doors before he could get a better glance at you.

“Please I need to see my wife let me in!” One of the stockier-built men stepped up to Simon to put space between him and the other paramedics just in case they thought Simon was about to lash out. “Sir we’re taking her to the nearest emergency hospital 3 miles from here but we need to leave now if we want her to have any chance of survival. She needs to be put into surgery now. Just follow the truck and you can wait in the waiting room.” Simon nodded and said nothing in response as he jumped into his car and trailed the ambulance that swerved through traffic with its sirens blaring.

Simon couldn’t relax in the waiting room. This was the only time he’d ever felt so wound up in his life. His feet incessantly tapped the linoleum tile and his hands gripped the edge of the leather seat until his knuckles were white and his veins popped out. He knew your surgery was going to be a while after suffering such a traumatic injury and he would wait lifetimes if that meant that you were going to be okay, but the minutes felt like they were dragging on and it was starting to feel unbearable.

“Mr. Riley?” His head shot up as he had a doctor's request for him. He stood up and followed the doctor into the hallway. He noticed that the doctor’s facial expression was hard to read, but he tried not to panic. “Sir, I am so sorry to say that the surgery was not a success. Your wife had multiple bones broken and there was too much blood loss despite giving a blood transfusion. Her body went into shock and we could not bring her back.” Simon’s ears were ringing and his body was trembling. He was stuck in place. He couldn’t even process the grief. Everything was numb.

The doctor gave Simon a pamphlet for cremation and burial services and then led him down to the morgue so he could get one final look. Your body was covered with a pristinely white sheet up to your collarbones and your eyes were closed. You were so much paler than Simon could ever imagine you and it stunned him. He’s seen multiple people die in his life due to his career, but he would never want to see you like them. It was entirely too much. Simon couldn’t do anything but silently cry. He caressed your cheek and pushed back your hair to place a last kiss on your forehead. The coldness of your skin made this whole situation really sink in for him.

“You didn’t deserve this, my love. It should’ve been me.”

#whumptober 2023 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod headcanons #cod mw2 #modern warfare 2

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topguncortez · 2 years

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Day 6: Proof of life ➢prompt: "I've got a pulse" ➢character: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Shy!Wife ➢warnings: car accident, severe injuries, description of gruesome injuries, blood loss, trauma. ➢word count: 3.5k ➢Opposites Attract Masterlist

|| masterlist || whumptober || whumptober masterlist || library page ||

It wasn’t normal for it to rain in California. Actually, when it did rain, it seemed like the whole city had shut down. Jake wasn’t a fan of rain, growing up on a ranch in Texas, rain meant that you can’t work. That statement had stayed true for Jake when he became a pilot. Rain meant no flying, no training. Rain meant having the day off to cuddle with his wife on the couch. Except today, it meant going to visit her parents. They had kept the kids this past weekend while Y/N and Jake went to a retirement for his old commander up in Lemoore. They were set to drive back today, but the sky decided to become gray and rain.

“It’s like no one knows how to freaking drive in the rain,” Jake grumbled as he adjusted the speed of the wipers against his windshield, “And when is this shit going to stop?”

“You’re so grumpy when it comes to rain,” Y/N giggled, looking out the window at the falling rain. Unlike her husband, Y/N loved the rain. Most of her childhood, her father got lucky to be stationed in Washington State, where it rained 90% of the time. She had grown up in the rain and cold, and loved it. It probably was why she was so cuddly and loved physical touch. Rain made her feel cold, but snuggling up to Jake made her feel warm. It was the only thing Jake liked about rainy days.

“No, it’s just idiots can’t drive,” Jake said and sat back in his seat a little, “We should take the kids to Colorado for Christmas. Jasper and Max have never seen snow before, and Eli is old enough to get on skis now.” They hadn’t been to Colorado since Eli was born. Jake’s parents had a cabin, and he had spent winters as a child there for all of Christmas break. As much as Y/N loved rain, she also loved the snow as well.

“And what if it snows there?”

“At Least they know how to drive in the snow,” Jake said, and looked over at her, as she rolled her eyes with a laugh.

“You are just so critical because you hate- JAKE!”

Jake gasped as he slammed on the break, and felt his body jolt forward. The sound of smashing metal and breaking glass was loud. The deploying of the airbags were like a bomb going off in his ears as he felt the force breaking his nose. The silence though, the silence was the loudest thing as the car came to a halt after being hit. The scent of copper filled the air, as neither one of them moved, simply frozen in place.

The lights were blinding against the dark gray sky. There was a slight haze from the rain filled sky, and the smoke from the cars, which just made the flashing blue and red lights even brighter. The rain felt even colder as it fell. Slowly, the distant sound of sirens sounded even louder in Jake’s ears, as his green eyes fluttered and looked around. He could remember where he was, and what happened.

‘I hit a car or something’ Jake thought, as he tried to turn his head and looked around, but was met with extreme pain ‘Whiplash’ he cursed.

“Y/N?” He asked. There was no answer as he brought his hand up to his nose, wiping the dripping blood away, “Y/N?!” He went to move to her, but was stopped by a medic holding his body.

“Sir, do not move,” The medic said.

“No, my wife,” Jake said, trying to move again.

“Sir, you can not move, we have to stabilize you.” The medic repeated, “Let’s brace him and move. They gotta cut her side open.”

“Y/N!” Jake cried out again, feeling the hands of the medics on him. He felt the collar go around his neck, and was already rolling his eyes at it. He was fine, he could probably walk out of the car right now. All he needed was to hold his wife, and an extra strong dosage of advil. Jake groaned as they moved his body out of the car and onto a stretcher. His green eyes finally saw her, and he felt like his world had just stopped.

She was pinned forward, her body passive against the dashboard. Her head was turned to face him, and he could see a large shard of glass stuck in her forehead. Her pretty hair was matted with blood, and so was her face. He could also see that her leg was bleeding as well. The white dress she was wearing was now a dark shade of red. She looked like she was sleeping, and Jake couldn’t see the rise and fall of her chest.

“Is she alive!? Please, no, that’s my wife!?” Jake yelled, trying to get out of the stretcher.

“Sir, you can’t move, you need to stay still,” The medic said, “If you don’t stop, we will sedate you.”

“Please just. . . Please,” Jake cried.

“Let’s get it cut!” A firefighter said, and Jake watched with horror as they cut the door to the side of his car. Another medic covered her with a sheet, but Jake could still see her lifeless face as the loud sound of metal filled the air, “Alright! On their count, they’ll move her.”

Jake watched with bated breath as a medic moved into the driver’s seat and placed his fingers on her neck. He felt his heart drop when the medic had to move his fingers trying to find her pulse. The two medics in the car shared a look, and the other one tried to find a pulse.

“I got it, I’ve got a pulse!” The female medic said, and Jake closed his eyes letting out a shaky breath, “My count, let’s get the collar on and move.”

A loud groan erupted out of her pink lips as she was moved slightly and a cold, hard plastic collar was placed around her neck, keeping her from turning her head. Y/N could hear the yelling from the medics, and a sudden rush of warmth, as blood poured out of the wound on her stomach. Y/N could feel their hands, jumping and moving quickly to cover and stop the blood from leaving. She coughed, her whole body convulsing, as pink frothy blood escaped her lips. Her eyes shot open as she looked up at the gray sky and at the medics in front of her.

‘Just let me go,’ She thought, ‘Oh my god, is that our car?’ The semi that hit them was in the ditch opposite of them, the damage not recognizable compared to her 4 door SUV that was in pieces, ‘Oh my god, it hurts’ The medic’s eyes moved quickly to the shard of glass sticking out of her chest. They grabbed a piece of tape, and taped it in place, their hands pressing softly on the area to stop the blood.

“Stay with us,” The medic said, as they moved you quickly from the side of the road, to the ambulance, “Keep your eyes open, keep your heart beating.” Y/N blinked twice, a sign for ‘yes’ as they slammed the doors to the ambulance shut. She looked at the ceiling of the ambulance, stickers littered the top, probably for the young kids they take to the hospital. She tried to fight the feeling of tiredness filling her body, the warmth of falling asleep becoming more inviting. The last thing she had heard was yelling and someone pounding on the top of the ambulance to get the driver to drive faster.

Jake watched from a far as they quickly moved his wife to an awaiting ambulance. He didn’t even get a chance to see her, before they were pulling out of the scene, lights and sirens blaring. The medics that were with Jake shared a look, before loading him up and following in suit of their other rig.

The waiting room was filled with the dagger squad and the Seresin family. Bradley had gotten the call from the hospital about Y/N and Jake’s accident. Jake had made Bradley his second emergency contact after the Uranium Mission. Bradley knew it, and he hoped he’d never get a call like this. He had contacted the rest of the dagger squad as well as Y/N’s parents since they lived in the area and had the kids. Bob and Phoenix had picked up the kids from Y/N’s parents and brought them to the hospital. No one knew the extent of Y/N’s injuries, but they knew Jake was going to be okay. He had a broken nose and a sprained wrist, as well as a pulled muscle in his neck.

“When can we see momma?” Eli asked his Uncle Bob. Bob was currently on the floor with Jasper and Maxwell climbing all over him.

“Not sure, buddy,” Bob said, and looked over at Rooster, who had just gotten back from seeing Jake, “How is he?”

“Fine, asking for the best plastic surgeon to look at his nose,” Bradley said, sitting down in a chair. Ella quickly ran over to Bradley, making her way into his lap. He hugged her and kissed her forehead, “No other updates though.” They had all tried to not say anything about Y/N the best they could. Partly because they didn’t know about her condition, and because they wanted Jake to be the one to talk to his kids about it.

“Uncle Coyote!” Alex giggled, as Coyote tickled him.

“We should take them home soon,” Phoenix said, holding Jasper, “It’s getting late.”

“Jake will want to see them,” Coyote said.

“The nurse back there said he’ll be up soon, he’s signing discharge stuff,” Rooster said, “We’ll let him see them, and then take them back home.”

“Her parents?” Bob asked. Rooster just shrugged.

Jake had signed the discharge papers as quickly as he could, but they seemed to be never ending. All he wanted was to hold his kids and get an update on his wife. The last image of her spitting up blood was ingrained in his mind and he just wanted to know if she was okay. The only thing stopping him from going completely crazy was the fact that she did have a pulse when they left the scene. There was that bit.

“Mr. Seresin?” His nurse, Marie, said in the doorway. She was an older lady, and certainly put Jake in his place when he pushed the young intern's hands away from his nose, “You have some visitors.” She gave him a smile, and stepped back. Jake smiled at the sight of his five kids, Alex and Ella running right to him. Eli held onto Rooster’s hand, as he held Jasper in one arm, and Phoenix held Maxwell in the other.

“Dad!” Ella said, and climbed up on the bed. Jake grunted in pain, but brushed it off as she hugged him, “You have an ouchie.”

“I do, baby,” Jake said, and Ella’s hands pushed tears back from his face.

“No cry, dada,” Eli said, still not leaving Rooster’s side. That poor kid hated hospitals more than any of them. His first year of life they had been in and out of the hospital, and Jake hated seeing him back here, even though it was for him and not Eli this time.

“I know buddy, come here,” Jake said and Eli reluctantly went towards his dad. Alex helped his little brother climb up on the bed, and curled himself into Jake’s side. “What are you monkeys doing up this late?” Jake asked, and kissed his son’s forehead.

“Uncle Rooster picked us up from Nana and Papa’s,” Alex said, “Said you and mom got hurt.”

“Momma okay?” Ella asked, and Jake looked at Rooster and Phoenix who were still holding one of the twins in their arms.

“Uh. . . Momma got hurt, and it’s- it’s bad,” Jake said honestly, “The doctors are still working on her to try and make her feel better. It might be a while before you guys get to see her. The doctors are going to want to make sure she is 100% okay to be able to see you rascals.” Jake tickled the two kids by his side.

“Did she get hurt like Rooster’s daddy?” Eli asked, his big green eyes looking up at him.

Jake looked up at his friend and sighed. The kids had always been curious about things and had asked Rooster about his parents, and Bradley had been honest with them (of course asking Y/N and Jake for permission first). The old two Seresin kids knew what death was, and somewhat understood what happens when you die. Eli was still grasping it, it was a hard concept for a three year old to understand, and Jasper and Maxwell. . . well they were not even two yet.

“Yeah she got hurt. . . Not sure how bad it is yet,” Jake said, and felt himself getting choked up again.

“She’s not going with Rooster’s daddy though,” Ella said determinedly, “She’s going to stay here and get better.”

“I hope so, baby,” Jake said. The Seresin kids stuck around a little bit longer before Phoenix and Rooster decided it was time for them to go. They had agreed to take the kids back to the Seresin house and stay with them until Jake would come home. Jake hugged his kids and squeezed them a bit tighter, saying goodnight and that he loved them, before they left. His heart broke as he watched them walk out of his room, and the sound of their voices faded.

“They are beautiful,” Marie said, coming in after they left and checking his vitals.

“That’s all my wife’s doing,” Jake said, and wiped his tears, “Can I see her?”

Marie nodded, “I’ll get a tech in here to take you down. I’ll make a call and get things arranged so you can be in her room. They usually don’t let you stay with ICU patients. . . but no one likes to make me mad.”

“I bet,” Jake smiled, “Can we request to have you as our nurse?”

“Like I said, no one likes to make me mad,” Marie said, and walked out of the room.

The care tech came and got Jake about ten minutes after Marie left. Jake hated having someone help him stand up from a bed to a wheelchair. He also felt weak as they wheeled him down the hallway towards the elevator. He shot Marie a glare and she just shrugged, they both knew it was out of her control, it was a hospital protocol. It felt like the longest elevator ride of his life all the way to the 7th floor. The lights were dimmed in the hallway since it was the middle of the night. But still the lights seemed so bright as he stared at her through the glass walls, laying so still, tubes and wires coming out of her body. He could see the small rise and fall of her chest, her heart was still beating. The tech opened the door slowly and wheeled Jake in. She looked so fragile, like if he breathed wrong, she would break. The tech placed his wheelchair by her bed and left the room. Jake grabbed her hand and squeezed it, as tears fell down his face.

“Oh, baby,” He sighed out and let the tears fall down his face. Y/N’s hand was still warm, and he swore that she had gripped his hand, but that was just in his mind. He ran his hand over her hair, blood matted parts of it, and a white bandage was wrapped around her head. He placed her limp hand on his cheek, something that Y/N would do quite often as a sign of affection, “It’s all up to you, okay. If you… If you need to go, then you go. Don’t worry about us, okay. The kids and I will be here waiting for whatever you decide. But if you do go… wait for me, okay?” Jake leaned over to her and kissed her forehead. He sat down in the chair next to her and watched and waited.

Doctors and nurses gave him a sad smile every time they would come in to either administer drugs, check her vitals, or shine a bright light in her eyes. Each one said the same thing: “She’s stable” and would walk away to go check on other patients. And that’s how it went for three days. Her parents, Rooster, Phoenix, Bob, and sometimes even Mav or Penny would bring Jake food, a change of clothes and some company while he refused to leave her side. The only time he did leave her side was to go down and see the kids. He didn’t want them seeing their mother like that. No child should have to see their mother in such a state. When no one was there, Jake talked to Y/N like she could respond, telling her about things the kids did at school, or the latest celebrity drama, or showing her pictures of the kids.

It was on day four that it all hit the fan. Jake had talked with Marie and the doctors, and had agreed to letting Alex and Ella see their mother. Alex was 10, and Ella was 7, they could handle the sight a little bit better than the littles. Jake had gone down to talk to them in the lobby, making sure they were both okay with going to see their mom, before taking them up to the seventh floor. He had been walking down the hallway, when he saw the rush of nurses and doctors going towards her room. He stopped in his tracks, holding Ella in his arms and Alex’s hand. He felt his heart stop as Marie rushed by him, and gave him a sad look. Jake stood helplessly in the hall, his two kids by him, as they rushed by with Y/N, a faint trail of blood following down the hallway towards the operating room.

The Dagger Squad had left work as soon as Jake called them in distress. Penny had come up and taken Alex and Ella, taking them to go see a movie and get ice cream, anything to help distract them from what they saw. Jake suddenly felt like the worst parent ever, exposing his kids to that trauma. He had no idea what it was going to be like now for them.

“I kinda hate this,” Bradley said, and sighed, sitting back in his chair, “The only other time I’ve sat in a waiting room was with my mother.”

“Respectfully, Bradshaw, shut the fuck up,” Jake said, and Phoenix glared, “Sorry.”

“No I get it, should’ve just kept quiet.”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s just. . . Why is this taking so long?” Jake said, and stood up from his spot, “They said she threw a clot, which isn’t uncommon, but. . . this is taking longer than the first surgery. This is all my fault.”

“Jake, it was an accident,” Phoenix said.

“I was bitching about the goddamn rain,” Jake mumbled, “I hate fucking rain.”

“You didn’t cause that accident and neither did the other driver. It was just. . . an accident.”

That was the worst part for Jake, was having no one to blame. He lived a life, where there was always someone to blame. Losing a dogfight, equipment not being in, broken plates, anything around him, he could always find something or someone to blame. But how could he blame the rain for almost killing his wife? It sounded ridiculous even thinking about it.

Slowly, the members of the Dagger Squad left, going home to their houses or partners, leaving Jake alone. They all wanted to stay by his side, but he told him it would bring him comfort knowing they went home for a good night's sleep and to go to work tomorrow. Jake sat alone in the waiting room, staring off into space as he waited. He couldn’t remember when he dozed off, but he startled awake when the doctor shook his shoulder and called out his name. The doctor’s face was unreadable as Marie stood behind him and refused to look Jake in the eye.

Jake stood up and the doctor took a deep breath before beginning to speak.

Jake’s steps felt like lead as he walked down the hallway. He took a deep breath before opening the door and going to the side of the bed. He sat down and grabbed her hand. Jake closed his eyes letting tears fall down his cheeks. He gently touched her forehead, which was now bandage free. Her body was stiff, and felt an odd temperature, she wasn’t cold but she wasn’t her normal temperature. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, whispering in her ear. He sat back down in his chair and just held her hand, looking at her face. Jake waited for her parents to come in, and see her, not leaving her side until they said it was time to.

That night, Jake went home for the first time in a week, and held his kids a bit tighter.

A/N: is this an AU for Opposites Attract?? Idk. Stick around and find out :)

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amethystfairy1 · 3 months

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Hihi! I just wanted to say I absolutely adore both of your fics sooooo much! The way you write all the characters is amazing :D. I was just wondering do you have any advice or tips for people looking to get into fic writing? And quick q about travelling thieves! We know that mumbo has met pearl but if Grian and Pearl were to meet would they even recognise one another? Anyway your work is incredible and I cant wait to see what you do for the rest of febuwhump!

Hello, hello! ✨

I'm so glad you enjoy my fics and characters!

Tips to get into fic writing? Hmm...I mean, I know it's probably said a lot, but my biggest advice is don't be afraid to start. The first fic you ever write won't be perfect, it'll be far from that, and you've just gotta be ok with that. The best thing you can do is start, write something and post it, see what people think, see what you liked and didn't like about it...then do it again!

As far as like...actual advice, I'd say participate in a writing challenge! Like Febuwhump which is going on right now! 😆 It'll force you to take a prompt, make something of it, post it quickly and then move on. You'll end up with a big chunk of fics and feedback on at least some of them I'm sure, and you can go from there! Also you'd be surprised what sort of storylines might accidentally form during a writing challenge...Traveling Thieves came out of my Whumptober prompts from last year, after all!

My last bit of advice would be to not start with a long fic. By that what I mean is don't try to write some huge overarching narrative...start with something smaller.

Your favorite ship needs to get together, who asks who out? How did that go? What was their first date like? What about their first kiss? How long did it take for them to say 'I love you'? That's like four or five short fics right there. 😛

The reason I write my AU's the way I do is because of stuff like this. It's scary writing a long fic (trust me I've done it a ton of times) because once you bypass a certain point in the story, you can never go back. The fun thing about my AU's being a series of short stories is that I can always bounce up and down the timeline! If you've been keeping up with TTSBC you can see it! I wrote Flower Husbands all the way up to Scott knowing about Jimmy's wings and consistently spending the night at his apartment. They've fought, they've said 'I love you', Scott has been to the under-city and met Jimmy's parents...but I suddenly felt like writing more details about their early game relationship! Before Scott know Jimmy's big secret, before they'd said 'I love you' or anything like that...so guess what? I did just that! I wrote 'Karma Witch' and 'Lovestruck Baby' after I'd written fics like 'Gutterline Sunshine' because that's the greatest part of this set up! I can bounce around! I never get bored or stuck on one plot point because if I don't feel like working on it, then I don't have too! So if you're into worldbuilding and wanna create an AU to have your characters all exist in, I'd super super super recommend using the 'shorter stories in an interconnected series' format.

BONUS TRAVELING THIEVES QUESTION 🏃‍♀️

Pearl and Grian last saw each other when they were sold away form their colony at fifteen years old. It's been seven years since then, but considering they're twins and they were both already mostly grown before they were sold away? Yes. They would definitely recognize each other if they saw each other again. The problem would be if they'd allow themselves to admit they recognized each other...cut ties and forgotten names and all. 😭

I hope my rambling advice helped at least a little bit!

Thanks for coming by! 💖

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #hermitcraft #traffic smp #traveling thieves au #grian #pearlescentmoon #writing advice #fanfic advice #worldbuilding

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gryphonlover · 8 months

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Whumptober 2023 Day 1

Prompt: swooning

Victim: Sky

Words: 994

Notes: I'm hoping this is decently accurate, since I referenced a couple of first aid sites before writing.

I have a headcanon that Wild experiences seizures and the Sheikah have taught him how to handle them. That's why he knows what to do and why he's worried, because he knows that seizures have to do with the brain, which is kind of an important organ. The type of seizure that Sky is having is an atonic seizure, which basically just means that his muscles went slack and he was temporarily unresponsive to external stimuli.

It had been a rough day. They'd been forced to make camp earlier than usual because Sky was having a hard time breathing from all the tree pollen in the air and Wind had walked himself bloody. Again. The little stinker had the strongest pain tolerance out of all of them.

Four had reassured Warriors that he could take care of Sky. It wasn't that different from the times Red had needed to be calmed down due to a panic attack, and he could tell that Warriors wanted to take care of Wind. The two were very close, and while Warriors considered it his duty to take care of everyone, it was best if he got it out of his system sooner rather than later.

Besides, no one was dying, and—

Sky suddenly dropped into Four's lap and the smithy flinched in surprise. Sky had a tendency to fall asleep in the strangest places, but he always asked before using someone as a pillow. Maybe sitting down had been a bad idea, though.

"Sky?"

No response. Okay, that was not good.

Four hesitated, but then rested a hand firmly on Sky's shoulder, giving it a little shake. "Sky, are you okay?"

Still nothing.

Yeah this was bad.

Four pushed down his panic and reached around Sky to press a hand to his chest. He was still breathing and his heart was still beating, that was good.

He shifted a bit, and adjusted Sky the best that he could into the position that Warriors had drilled into their heads just in case someone ever fainted and he wasn't around to help.

He turned to look for Warriors, to see if he was still here and if he could ask him for help when he came face to face with Wild, who was now only 4 inches away from his face.

"Jeeze, Wild, give me a little warning next time!"

Wild blinked. "Sorry. What's up with Sky?"

Four took a deep breath to calm his spooked heart. "I don't know, he just suddenly fell into my lap. I thought that maybe he fainted from not getting enough air, but..."

Wild's gaze shifted over to the still knight, and he scooched over, poking and prodding in a manner that seemed to indicate that he was following some sort of protocol, but Four had no idea what he was doing.

Sky let out a soft, confused sound, and Wild patted his head. "It's alright, you're safe."

Four released a slow exhale. Sky was awake. Things were going to be okay.

Wild watched Sky intently as if waiting for something, then sat back on his heels after a handful of minutes.

"So, I'm going to ask you some questions, and you gotta answer them, okay?"

Four had no idea what he was going on about, so he just ran a hand through Sky's hair, letting the champion do his strange first aid.

"I... okay." Sky still sounded a little breathy, but he was no longer struggling for breath.

"First question, what's your name?"

Sky clearly felt as baffled as Four did, if the silence was any indication.

Wild's brows furrowed. "Come on, work with me here, man."

The silence stretched on and Wild's face grew even more concerned. "Oh crap..."

Four could feel his heart speed up again. "What?"

Wild's eyes didn't leave Sky's face, and he gently tapped him on the cheek. "Come on, featherhead, now's not the time to be having a seizure."

"A what?"

"A seizure, just—" Wild sounded stressed. "There's not really anything we can do until it passes. We're in the middle of the forest and none of us are doctors."

"What do you mean there's nothing we can do!?"

"I mean," Wild snapped back, "that this isn't something that's easily fixed. There is no cure, there is no medicine, there is nothing that can make it better. We just have to wait until it's over and then make sure he isn't confused or hurt or anything."

The little red part of Four's brain continued panicking, so he shoved it back, back, back into a dark corner where it wouldn't bother him as much.

"He won't..."

Wild took a deep breath. "To be honest, I think his breathing problems will kill him before a seizure does. Besides, he's one of us, he's gotta be pretty hard to kill."

Sky shifted, stirring listlessly and Wild's face lit up. "Oh thank Hylia."

Sky stared up at him in confusion. "When... when did you get here...?"

Wild smiled. "Not long ago. You had a bit of an... episode."

"Huh." Sky seemed to process the information. "What are we doing?"

"Well, you are supposed to be resting." Wild wagged a finger chidingly. "But before that, I need you to answer some questions."

"Why? What's wrong?" Sky struggled to sit up properly, still weak from not being able to get enough air. Four helped him up, propping the Skyloftian up against himself the best he could.

"Everyone is fine, I just need to make sure your head's working right now."

Sky squinted at Wild as if he was trying to see through him, then seemed to decide that whatever Wild was doing couldn't possibly be that problematic.

"Okay."

Wild ran through a list of questions that were really simple. He asked Sky what his name was, how old he was, where they were, what they were doing, things like that. Four didn't really understand why he was asking these questions, but he resolved to pull Wild aside later for a discussion on what had happened.

Once Wild was satisfied, he instructed Four to stay with Sky while he went and talked to Warriors and Time about what had happened.

Seeing Sky have that... seizure thing had been scary, but now that Wild had taught him what to do, he was more confident that he'd be able to help Sky if it happened again. Things were going to be okay.

#whumptober #whumptober 2023 #linked universe #legend of zelda #lu sky #lu wild #lu four #fanfiction #gryphon writes

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ohtobeleah · 7 months

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The Secrets We Keep // Jake Seresin

-> A Father, Son & The Holy Shit exert

Summary: You and Jake argue over the practicality of your entanglement. Suddenly you feel like you have nowhere to run, or hide.

Warnings: Mental Manipulation. Toxic relationships. Dark!Hangman. Sexual explicit content 18+ minors DNI. Stockholm Syndrome. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Age gap 10+ years.

Word Count: 1.3k

Author Note: Day Twenty of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: ‘Stockholm Syndrome/Blackmail ’ Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

All you had to do was say yes. All you had to do was nod your head and agree. All you had to do was say a one syllable word that would have put a stop to all of Jake Seresins antics. His abuse, his manipulation, his lack of respect, empathy and kindness.

“Honey?” Rooster cooed as he took a few steps towards you cautiously. Clarie was going to kill him, literally murder him if he didn’t get to the bottom of what was going on. You were an entirely different person than you were when you first set foot in North Island. Bradley hardly recognised his own daughter as you stood before him in the living room. Overly exhausted and emotionally drained. “Did Jake—“ Bradley could barely fathom the words that were coming out of his mouth. “Did he touch you?”

All you had to do was say yes. One simple yes would end it all, all the pain, the manipulation, the fear of falling in love with a man who saw you as nothing but a flesh light. His personal walking, talking sex doll. All you had to do was say—yes.

“Are you high?” You scoffed as you came back into yourself. You should have said yes. “Commander Seresin? Kians dad! You think he fucking touched me?” You asked with shock laced into the lines on your face. “Dad, that’s so fucked up—no, no you’ve got it all wrong.”

“But do I though?” Bradley pressed you further—he has seen far too many things for it to be a silly little thing he’d convinced himself was happening. “Sweetheart, if you don’t feel safe—“

“There’s nothing going on between me and Kians dad!” You frowned as you shook your head in disbelief. This wasn’t happening, why the fuck were you protecting a man who’d done nothing but seduce and use you. Why were you protecting a man who wasn't good for you? “I don't know what you've been smoking dad but you gotta open a window in here.” It was hard to lie to him, you dad, but you had to in order to protect him. He couldn't know.

“I saw the polaroid–are you really gonna stand here and tell me that isn't you?” If Bradley ever knew it could ruin his career, because you knew he'd kill Jake Seresin in the blink of an eye, without remorse or sympathy. Because you wanted to kill him and you were the one who was utterly in love with a man who saw you as nothing but a piece of meat, so you couldn't imagine the damage your dad would do if he knew.

***~***~***~***~***~***~****

Two Nights Prior:

“I think we should stop this–” You sat on the end of Jake's bed, completely naked with bruises littered across your body. You told yourself he didn't mean to give them to you, that he just liked it a little rougher than any of the guys you’d ever been with before. But right now, you felt like if you didn't pull the plug you weren't ever going to be able to. “I don't feel good about doing this to Kian–”

“Do you think he loves you?” Jake asked from the ensuite he’d gone into to freshen up. “My son, do you think he loves you?”

“I'd like to think he does.” You answered honestly. “I don't think I deserve it, but yeah–I think he does.” Jake was silent for a moment as he pulled his boxer briefs up his legs before he stuttered over to where you sat completely exposed on the end of his bed.

“What do you think your dads gonna do if he finds out his only daughter is a fucking whore?” Jake hissed as he stood before you. His words hurt, they felt like tiny little knives digging into every part of your exposed skin. “What do you think Kian will do when he finds out you've been sucking my cock at any given chance?” They were rhetorical questions, Jake wasn't expecting you to answer. He knew you couldn't anyway, not when his fingers were trailing between your folds as he bent over to take your cheeks in one hand–squishing them up like a fish. “I’m the only person capable of loving a fucking whore like you, do you understand?”

“Do you love me?” You asked through squished lips as Jake curled his digits around your sensitive bundle of nerves. He knew just what to do to have your nerves igniting like they had been set alight.

“I said I was the only person capable, not that I do.” Jake confessed as he pressed two of his digits into you, slick and soaked from your arousal. “And you aren't gonna leave, because you love me, don't you baby?” Jake smirked as you slowly but surely lent back on your elbows and spread your legs a little wider for him to bury his fingers knuckle deep inside you. “You love me, and if you leave me? I'll ruin your life, you know that right?”

“I–” You moaned as your knees shook and your jaw slacked, Jake curled his digits up into your velvet walls, causing your pussy to pulse around him like a vice. “I don't know if I–”

“Oh no.” Jake tisked as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. He kneeled one knee on the bed to get a better angle up inside you. “No– I know you love me, which is why you're not gonna say anything to anyone about us, you aren't gonna leave.”

“But–” You wanted to come so badly, but it all felt so wrong. You felt dirty and used and your body hurt from all the sex. Commander Seresin was not a gentle soul. “Jake stop–” You pushed at his wrist between your legs and got off the bed. The same bed you snuck into night after night. “I'm serious, we need to stop this, I can't keep doing this, it's wrong!”

“Oh fuck off Bradshaw get off your damn high horse!” Jake shouted at the top of his lungs as he watched you scramble to collect your discarded clothes. “You are just as involved here as I am, I didn't take advantage of you, I didn't assault you or manipulate you!” Jake had, he had done all of those things and more. “You are a concenting fucking adult and whatever this is, whatever we fucking are YOU decided to enter it yourself.”

“Jake–” You tried to stop yourself from crying, tried to stop the tears from falling down your cheeks, but when Jake slammed his fist against the wall and broke through the drywall, you could barely breathe, let alone control your tears.

“You don’t get to tell me this is fucking wrong, if you really thought it was wrong you wouldn’t ever have let me kiss you, you never would have fucked me, your precious boyfriends dad, and you never, ever would have fallen in love with me you pathetic excuse of a woman!” You had never felt more sick to your stomach than you did in that moment. But all you could do was try to deescalate the situation.

“I'm sorry!” You cried as you clutched at your clothes in the ball in your arms. “I'm sorry, okay, I'll take it all back.” It burned you to say but you didn't know what else to do. “I'll stay, I want this, I swear, I'm just scared.”

“No fuck you, leave! Get out of my house–”

“Jake!”

“You aren't good enough for me.” Jake hissed as he watched you flinch. “You aren't good enough for anyone, hell Bradshaw you won't ever be good enough for anyone ever so how about you just leave, consider us or whatever this is, done for good because for as much as I know you love me it's clear you just aren't good enough to see whats right in front of you.”

“And what's right in front of me?” You sobbed as Jake took a few steps closer to corner you against the wall, both arms up trapping you so you had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

“The best damn thing that's ever gonna happen to you.”

***~***~***~****~***~***~***~***

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #jake seresin x reader #TopGun hangman #hangman smut #hangman seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin angst #jake seresin fanfiction

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skyward-floored · 7 months

Text

Whumptober Day 23: Shadows, “it’s gonna get me by the end of the night”

This one is kinda creepy again but. Well. That comes with the territory of dead hands...

Read on ao3

Warnings: blood, injury, uhhh lots of creepiness, being attacked by a monster in a kind of disturbing way

————————————————————

There was something in here with them.

Wild swallowed, looking around. He couldn’t say how he knew they weren’t alone, but the prickling on the back of his neck seemed to indicate a presence, one that wasn’t him or Wind. The problem was, the area itself was full of long shadows with barely a torch to fend them off with, and Wild looked nervously back at the stairs they’d recently descended.

He already wasn’t exactly the most fond of being underground, and he had a bad feeling.

“Aw man, a creepy basement,” Wind said with a groan. “Why do these places always have creepy basements?!”

“Beats me,” Wild said with an amused smile. It seemed like the complaint was mostly to hide what seemed to be Wind’s nervousness, as he was standing rather close to Wild’s side, and giving the darkness an anxious look.

“Maybe it’s a style thing,” Wild said thoughtfully. “Like, they build these or whatever, and one guy goes ‘hey you know what would be great right here? A creepy basement. Would really tie the whole dungeon together.’”

Wind laughed, and looked much less nervous as he looked out at the shadows again. Wild glanced at them as well, and squinted as his eye caught on something. Had something moved over there?

He really hoped not.

“Well, there are such things as non-creepy basements. I mean, Twilight’s basement isn’t creepy,” Wind said with a little grin, and Wild checked back into what he was saying. “Though it is full of junk. My grandma would say that’s scarier.”

Wild snorted as he and Wind began to walk into the room, feeling their way around walls, pausing to look around when they reached a torch. Wild pulled out an old branch he had and lit it, and after that, finding their way around the room was much easier.

It turned out to be what Wind said was a puzzle room, the two finding a suspicious platform, and a switch tucked in a dark corner. Pushing a block over to push it down didn’t make anything happen, but as they glanced around the area, Wild noticed some etching on the wall.

“There must be more switches we have to push,” Wind said thoughtfully. “Or else something would’ve happened.”

“There’s marks along the edge here,” Wild pointed out, pointing to four squares etched on the wall. One was filled in, and he and Wind both sighed as they realized there were three more switches to find.

“Guess we better get going.”

They continued through the shadowy maze, though as time went on and nothing jumped out at them, Wild’s uneasy feeling began to lighten. It seemed like the only thing to impede their progress was the confusing room and lack of light, and Wild was used to that. He’d done three labyrinths, after all.

No monsters appeared from the shadows to bother them as he and Wind located and pressed down two more switches, though Wild’s makeshift torch was nearly all the way burnt up by the time they found them both.

“Only one more!” Wind said cheerfully, and Wild smiled as they reached another hallway. “And that’s the only direction we haven’t gone yet, so it’s gotta be this way!”

“Good, then we can get out of here,” Wild said with another glance at the ceiling. He still didn’t like being underneath so many levels of dungeon and earth. It made him nervous.

Wind nodded, then his face took on a mischievous look.

“Race you there Wild!” he said with a grin, then before Wild could say a thing, he bolted off down the hallway and into the darkness.

“Hey— Sailor! Wait up!” Wild shouted, but Wind had already disappeared into the shadows.

Wild huffed, and bolted after him, though he did slow and peer nervously around walls and pillars. The air seemed colder this direction, a chill tricking down his spine, and Wild swallowed. The sense that they weren’t alone had gotten more intense again, and he suddenly had a very bad feeling about all of this.

“Wind? Sailor, I think we should stick together!” he called, but received no reply except for his own echo.

...Had Wind really gotten out of earshot already?

Wild sped up a little, trying to watch his steps, but also catch up to Wind. He had to be around here somewhere, this area wasn’t that big.

Or at least, not the parts they’d been to already.

Wild turned a corner and found what seemed like a wide-open space, lit by nothing but a single torch next to where he stood. Right as he took a step forward, his stick finally burnt up, and Wild gulped.

He braced himself, and moved forward into the darkness, trying to calm his thudding heart.

There hasn’t been anything in here yet. There’s probably nothing here, and it’s only my imagination because being underground sucks—

Something let out a muffled shriek.

Wild jumped and whirled towards the noise, near instantly drawing a guardian sword he had in his inventory. The sword let out just enough of a glow for him to see a little ahead, and Wild cautiously moved forward, sword held high.

The floor had turned from stone to dirt at some point, and Wild’s footsteps were near soundless as he padded across it. Something crunched under his foot, and Wild looked down, an even bigger sense of foreboding rising in his throat as he stared at the bones he’d stepped on.

“Wind?” he called softly, afraid to speak too loud.

Something grabbed his ankle.

Wild shouted in surprise as whatever it was dug in, and before he could slash at it, another grabbed his other leg and knocked him to the ground.

He got an arm up and slashed at what he could see were pale hands on horribly long arms, bloodstained nails scrabbling at his boots. Wild managed to cut away the hands, but right as he scrambled to his feet, he heard something moving, right next to him.

He turned around, and almost dropped his sword.

A pale, bulbous creature stared at him, eyes dark holes, mouth opened impossibly wide as it grinned at him with bloodstained teeth. Wild couldn’t help but let out a horrified cry as it began to slither forward, and he felt a sudden urge to be sick.

What god decided such a horrible creature should even exist?

Wild backtracked so quickly he nearly tripped over his cape, but strangely enough the creature didn’t turn to him. It veered to the side, and as Wild regained his senses enough to go after it, he saw two eyes catch the light from his sword.

He turned, and met Wind’s frantic gaze.

The sailor was being held up by multiple of the same arms that had grabbed him, a hand covering his mouth. His eyes were wide with horror, and he was scrabbling frantically at the hand over his mouth, but more arms were holding him tightly in place, and all he could do was let out a muffled cry as he saw Wild.

Wild felt a burst of anger and jumped forward, slicing at the hands, but as soon as he chopped one, another two took their place. He’d lost sight of the main body in the shadows somewhere, but he was focused solely on Wind, slicing even more frantically when he saw the blood on his shoulder.

Had that thing bitten him?

He managed to slice away most of the hands holding Wind’s body in place, and the sailor fell to the ground with a cry. But before Wild could go to him, a hand tangled itself in his cape, and Wild cried out as he fell to the dirt as well, more hands near instantly grabbing him.

They pinned him down, grasping at his face and clothes, and Wild clung desperately to his weapon. He knew if he dropped it he’d have almost no chance of getting it back.

But the hands had figured him out, and they squeezed his wrist, clawing at his hand, and Wild physically couldn’t hold onto the blade any longer. The guardian sword fell to the dirt, and Wild felt more hands come up and grab him, no matter how he struggled.

A burrowing noise sounded out, and Wild looked over in terror as the fleshy body crawled out of the dirt, that horrifyingly long neck turning in his direction.

He was it’s target now.

“Wi—!” he screamed, but then a hand covered his mouth, and all he could do was thrash in silence as the monster slithered nearer and nearer.

A hand turned his face towards it, and Wild breathed quickly through his nose, nearly gagging at the smell of decay and blood that came from the hands on his face. They tilted him up as the head of the main body drew near, lit an eerie blue by his dropped sword. Wild couldn’t help his whimper as the face leaned down, its jaws opening impossibly wide.

And then it bit down on the side of his face.

Wild screamed, the sound muffled by the hands still covering his mouth as fiery pain made his vision spotty, the feel of the monster biting down on him nothing short of horrific. The seconds seemed to stretch on endlessly as it continued to gnaw, sucking up his blood, and Wild was nearly sick as it made a particularly satisfied noise.

Somehow the fact that the monster was actively feeding on him, biting him, attacking him only to satiate some kind of awful hunger, made it twice as worse.

All he was was prey to it.

Wild let out a muffled sob as he thrashed again, but the hands only held him more firmly, a hand holding his cheek in a way that would almost have been loving from anything else. Pain and revulsion were making his head spin, and Wild squeezed his eyes shut, tears gathering in the corners.

And then he heard an angry yell.

Suddenly the pressure on his face was gone, and Wild heard another shout, catching sight of Wind throwing himself forward, his face pale but expression furious.

“Stop chewing on my brother!” The sailor screamed, then twisted himself around into a huge spin attack that Wild could barely watch. The wind it kicked up buffeted Wild’s face like a hurricane, and the hands still grasping him let go, dropping Wild to the ground with a groan.

An awful moaning sound rent the air, and Wild watched through the blood dripping down his face as Wind hit the main body of the monster once, twice, three— so many times he couldn’t keep track of the number.

But Wind finally stopped, holding a hand to his head as he stumbled, and the body of the monster fell to the ground.

Wind was suddenly at his side, grabbing his shoulder, and they watched in silence as the monster twitched slightly, then disappeared into dark smoke along with all of the arms.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was of Wind and Wild’s heavy breathing.

“I-I think... I think it’s gone,” Wind said finally, his voice shaking, and Wild gripped his arm, unsure if he or Wind was the one trembling.

“Yeah,” Wild choked out, and Wind turned to him, immediately leaning in to look at his face.

“Oh no, ohh— Wild I’m so sorry I couldn’t get to you faster,” Wind gasped, and Wild shook his head, closing his one eye as blood threatened to drip into it.

“Y-you couldn’t have...” Wild got out, and Wind turned to rifle through his bag, his movements frantic. “...Sailor?”

Wind had made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle, and Wild reached over to squeeze his hand, Wind shakily gripping it back.

Neither of them said anything for a moment, and Wind leaned up against Wild’s shoulder, Wind leaning back as they finished catching their breath.

“...That was worse then redeads,” Wind said finally, looking away, and Wild felt his eyes sting a little at the memory of the monster’s endless hands, it’s horrible main body and how it bitten down on them both...

It truly had been awful.

“I’ve never seen a redead, but based on th-the name... I don’t ever w-want to. Are they l-like... dead twice over..?” Wild asked, and Wind looked at him, eyes shiny in the light of Wild’s sword, blood still trickling down his shoulder.

Then he let out a wet laugh, and pulled out a bottle with some kind of potion in it, swiping a hand over his eyes.

“Something like that,” Wind said thickly, and Wild pressed the side of his head that wasn’t a mess against Wind’s. He breathed out, and focused on Wind’s warm skin against his, not cold, not undead, not trying to devour him.

“Thanks sailor,” he said in a wavering voice, and Wind made another noise that Wild pointedly ignored, squeezing Wind’s hand.

“Thank you too,” Wind whispered back.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu Wind #lu wild #linked universe fanfic #dead hand #whumptober 2023 #day 23 #shadows #it’s gonna get me by the end of the night #tw injur #tw blood #writing from the floor #this was originally Sky and Wind and then I remembered Trin literally wrote one like this with Sky XD #so I changed it #but I do like wind and Wild a fair amount #even if they don’t like each other much in canon lol

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whumpdoyoumean · 7 months

Text

Whumptober #23

This is a scene from a noir-inspired original work about a PI who's hired by a little girl to investigate the disappearance of her older brother. Enjoy!

xxx it’s gonna get me by the end of the night

He becomes aware of the tail somewhere on 9th, between the deli and the smoke shop--a tall man in a long brown coat, walking with his shoulders rounded forward as if that could somehow help him blend in (it doesn’t). His fedora is pulled down over his eyes, and though he keeps some distance between them it’s pretty obvious what he’s up to. Simon does his best to act like he hasn’t noticed the giant man following him, adjusting his route so that he makes his way out of the busier streets and to a quieter area. Then, when there aren’t many people around, he ducks into an alley and waits.

The man appears faster than he expected--must’ve sped up in case Simon made a break for it--but Simon is ready and leaps on the man as soon as he appears, grabbing the front of his coat and slamming him against the wall so hard that the man’s hat falls to the ground. The face underneath is angular and hard, the eyes cold and piercing, mouth drawn into a thin line, jaw twitching.

“You wanna tell me why you’re following me, friend?” Simon says.

“You’ve been sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. Boss doesn’t like it.”

“And who’s your boss? He got something to do with the kid? That why he’s not happy?”

“He doesn’t know the kid. Never seen him, never heard of him. Doesn’t know him from a hole in the ground. But the kid is beside the point, Hornby. You’re starting to interfere with Roman’s business and he’s had enough.”

Simon’s stomach drops.

Shit.

Of all the people whose henchman this could be, why did it have to be Roman? He lets go of the man’s jacket and gives his shoulder an awkward pat, stepping back.

“Right. Right, well if he’s not involved then I’m sure I can turn my attention elsewhere. I’ve got plenty of other leads. Roman doesn’t need to worry about me.”

“You’ve said that before,” the big man growls.

“I mean it this time.”

“You’ve said that before, too. Boss wants to make sure this time.”

Before Simon has a chance to react, there’s a flash of metal--Big Man is fast--and an impact in Simon’s side that drives the wind out of him and doubles him over as he folds around the man’s fist. The hand withdraws, and with it a bloodied knife. Simon stares at it, then up at Big Man as he falls to his knees.

“You--I--”

“Boss says if you survive this, you better stop sniffing around or next time the knife goes in your heart. You understand?”

Simon is trying to catch his breath, trying to fight the sickening dizziness that’s washing over him. He nods twice, closing his eyes when the movement makes the world spin. A hand grabs his hair and he groans.

“Gotta hear you say it.”

“Ye-yes. I understand. I understand.”

“Good.”

The hand releases Simon’s hair and his head drops to his chest as Big Man disappears out of the alley, leaving Simon on the cold ground holding trembling hands against the hole in his gut in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding. His mind is racing but he has to think, he needs to--he has to do something. He puts one hand against the wall. It takes him two tries to stand.

He’s got no change for a pay phone.

His apartment is too far.

Hospital’s too far.

Businesses are close by now...

There is one place he can think of, someplace close with a resident who will probably be awake, who may even be able to help.

Whether she actually will is another matter entirely.

But he’s got to try.

He takes a deep breath and pushes away from the wall, leaving behind a streaking red handprint, and starts to walk.

xxx

He knocks quietly. He doesn’t want to wake the neighbors, or the kid, and, if he’s being honest with himself, he doesn’t have the strength left for dramatic banging. Though he may need to summon it if she doesn’t come to the door soon. He’s feeling lightheaded--the blood loss, he expects. A wave of dizziness hits him and his vision goes fuzzy, ears ringing, and before he realizes he’s moving he’s leaning on his arm against the door.

“Who are you?” someone says behind him, and the steadiness of her voice, the challenge in her words, leave no doubt in Simon’s mind who the voice belongs to. “Turn around slowly.”

“You armed?”

“I might be. You wanna find out?”

He can’t stop the chuckle that rises in his throat as he straightens up.

“What are you laughing at? I’m not afraid of you. Turn around. Slowly.”

“No, no. I wouldn’t think so.” He turns, taking his time because she told him to and because he might fall over otherwise. The blood loss is making his tongue loose, and his mind dull, because he says, “Not with Ruth for a daughter.”

The woman, who had been eyeing him with suspicion, goes rigid, face darkening.

“Excuse me?”

Simon grimaces. “I’m--my name is Simon. I’m not--I’m a private investigator, that’s all. I promise, I haven’t done anything to hurt her, I just want to help, I’m looking for Noah. I swear. I’m only here because I need your help.”

She doesn’t look convinced, so he moves his hand away from the wound, showing his bloodied hand and side. Her eyes widen.

“You’re a nurse, right? I’m-I’m sorry, only the hospital was so far away, I-I didn’t know if I would make it.”

His knees finally give way and she lurches forward, catching him before he falls, letting out a small grunt at the sudden weight of him.

“Okay, let’s get you inside. Where did you walk from?”

“The alley behind Mozzie’s.”

She clicks her tongue as she helps him lean against the wall so she can fish her keys out of her purse. “That far?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You know who did this to you?”

“Best I keep that to myself. They won’t follow me here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She pauses with the key halfway turned in the lock to give him a look. “Well I wasn’t.”

She opens the door and he steps inside, with her close on his heels. She closes the door behind them before helping him to the couch. He barely manages to collapse onto it before he slips out of consciousness.

“Hey!” she says sharply, and he blinks blearily at her.

“Hm?”

“Stay awake.”

And then, from the other side of the room, a familiar, tiny, tired voice. “Mama?”

Even in his barely conscious state, he winces, grabbing a throw pillow and holding it in front of his blood stained shirt.

“Honeybee, dont’--”

She’s too late. Ruth’s excited voice cries, “Simon!”

“Hey, kiddo,” he says as she appears in front of him, hair wild, rubbing at her eyes in a pair of oversized pajamas.

“What are you doing here?”

“Ruth, I need you to listen to me,” the woman says. “Are you listening?”

“Yes, mama.”

“Go down to Ms. Bailey’s, tell her I sent you and tell her--tell her I need her to call for an ambulance. And then you stay with her until I come get you, you understand? You stay with her.”

Ruth’s brow furrows. “I don’t like Ms. Bailey’s.”

“Ruth Clementine, you do as I say. Go on!”

She doesn’t move, her frown deepening, lower lip protruding. “I’m afraid,” she says quietly.

Her mother’s face softens instantly. “I know, Honeybee. But it’s time to be brave. You’ve got a stinger, remember? Not just wings and pretty stripes.”

The familiar determination flashes across her little face and she nods.

“Good girl. Fast, now!”

Ruth nods again and takes off. The second the door closes, the woman’s face twists with rage and she snatches the pillow from Simon, then pulls the scarf from around her neck, balling it up in her fists as though it had somehow personally wronged her.

“This happen because of you chasing after my boy?”

He shakes his head and she presses the scarf to his wound. He lets out a cry that’s equal parts pain and surprise.

“Hush! And don’t lie to me. You may be a private eye, but I’m a nurse. You wanna try that again?”

“I…” She glares at him and he sighs. “Yes. And no. Looking for him led me down a line of inquiry that led to…this.”

She frowns, looking down at her hands. “No one asked you to do this.”

“Ruth did. She’s someone.”

She looks up at him sharply, and her eyes are watery but her expression is hard to read. They gaze at each other for what feels like a long time, and that’s when he realizes--

“I don’t know your name.”

She blinks, and he’s not sure she’s going to answer. And then she says, “Beth. Elizabeth.”

The world feels strange, and his body in it feels stranger--cold and light, weightless almost but not in a pleasant way. Still, he smiles. “Like the Bible.” He blinks heavily, and it’s hard to open his eyes again.

“Hey, Simon? Simon!” She squeezes his hand. “I know that look, and you’re not gonna do that to me, you hear me? You’re not! Keep your eyes open, Simon. Talk to me! That’s a nice suit, where’d you get it?”

“Looks nice,” he says, and his tongue is filling his mouth, the words thick as molasses. “But…it isn’t. Dirt--” He chuckles. “Dirt cheap, but I--I’m a good faker. Always have been. Well, no, that’s…That’s not quite true. Harry always knew. Harry…” He hasn’t talked about Harry in a long time, shouldn’t be talking about him but the blood loss is really getting to him.

He realizes with a sickening feeling that he’s dying.

“You…You should put on a sweater, Miss Beth. It’s cold in here.”

“Help will be here soon. Just keep talking, private eye. We don’t know each other nearly well enough for you to die on my couch.”

He’s not sure he has much choice in the matter. He doesn’ want her to see him when he goes.

“‘m alright. Just go…go get a sweater, please. I don’t…I don’t want you to be cold.”

“I’m not cold, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Simon hums in response. The pain seems distant now, and he doesn’t feel well and the world is spinning, spinning and his eyes are rolling--

And then they shut.

xxx

#whumptober2023 #no.23 #stalking #original content #fic #blood #stabbed #original character #whumptober #noir #private eye #my writing #whump

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