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kabie-whump · 2 months

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♡ Febuwhump Day 21: Unresponsive ♡

@febuwhump

Low key a continuation of day 19 (but if im being honest you could totally connect all of my generic febuwhump posts into one story if you try hard enough)

Content: unresponsive whumpee, ptsd, disassociation, worried/guilty caretaker, post-rescue, referenced finger amputation

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It's been a month.

One month since Whumpee made the most idiotic decision of their life and volunteered to be captured by Whumper for the opportunity to gather information about them.

One month since Caretaker tearfully begged them not to go and one month since Whumpee turned their back on their best friend.

Caretaker isn't involved in the rescue mission. All they can do is sit outside the infirmary and mentally reherse what they're going to say to Whumpee when they get back. ("Fuck you for being an absolute idiot and being so careless with yourself and making me worry you dickhead you could've died what is wrong with you-")

Doors burst open. Whumpee is brought in on a stretcher wearing nothing but a thin blanket that is already stained red in some spots and god they've never been this skinny before. Their eyes are open, staring up blankly at the ceiling as they're rushed into another room.

All of the harsh words Caretaker had been saving for Whumpee disappear because one month.

It takes hours, but Caretaker is eventually allowed to see Whumpee. The nurse who leads them in gives them a sympathetic look, muttering something about "be patient and give them time" but Caretaker doesn't hear it as they rush to Whumpee's bedside.

Whumpee's awake. At least, their eyes are open. But they don't even look at Caretaker as they perch at the edge of a chair next to the bed, don't even flinch as Caretaker takes their hand.

"Whumpee? How are you feeling? Are you alright? I was so worried."

Silence. No sign that Whumpee even heard them.

"I'm sorry for how we left things. I just didn't want you to get hurt. You don't have to give me the silent treatment."

They did get hurt. Whumpee is wrapped in bandages and hooked up to an IV and oxygen. Their left knee is in a cast. Their whole right hand is cocooned in gauze and Caretaker tries to pretend they don't know why.

(They'd overheard it a week after Whumpee's capture: "Leader was sent Whumpee's finger in an envelope this morning. Don't tell Caretaker, they'll freak.)

"Whumpee, please. Say something."

Nothing; just a haunted stare. The harsh overhead lights must be hurting their eyes, but still they go an unsettlingly long time between blinks.

A lot of damage can be done in a month.

Caretaker bends over, pressing their forehead to the mattress as silent sobs shake their shoulders.

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#febuwhump2024 #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday21 #febuwhump day 21 #whump #whump tropes #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #whump scenario #whumpee #whump ideas #whump prompt #recovery whump #unresponsive

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blackrosesandwhump · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 21: Unresponsive

CW: experiment whump, unconsciousness whumpee, creepy whumper, needle mention

It’s happening again.

Whumper sighs in frustration and slaps whumpee’s face, gently at first, then more forcefully a second time. Nothing. Unresponsive, right at the critical juncture in the experiment. Whumper frowns and bends closer, examining his subject. Pale, damp skin. Shallow breathing. Weak pulse through the stethoscope. Not an ideal situation, especially when whumper is so close to success.

“You’re not being very helpful, whumpee.” Whumper steps back from the table, crossing his arms. “I told you to stay awake this time. But did you listen? No.” He pauses, observing whumpee for a moment in intense silence, then springs into action, readying various instruments and a syringe. The bright lights overhead wash out whumpee’s skin completely, making him look dead.

But he isn’t, and he won’t be, not while whumper needs him.

“And now, since you didn’t listen,” whumper says, plunging the syringe into whumpee’s chest, “we have to start the experiment all over again.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday21 #unresponsive #whump #whump snippet #whump drabble #lab whump #experiment whump #experimentation #human experimentation #blackroseswrites #syringe #needle mention #unconsciousness #unconscious whumpee #creepy whumper #laboratory

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random-fandom-whump · 1 year

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9-1-1 S06E10 (X)

"Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This is Captain Nash, 118. We've got a firefighter down..."

#911 on fox #evan buckley #oliver stark #struck by lightening #knocked out #unconscious #dangling #unresponsive #firefighter whump #worried friends #bobby nash #eddie diaz #hen wilson #chimney han #911 6x10 #ep: in a flash #flashing gifs #911 spoilers

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writersmorgue · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 21 - Unresponsive

TWs in tags || read on Ao3 || wc: 1332

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Time-activated quirks are rare. Izuku knows, he’s studied many. He was fascinated by the logistics the first time he read about one in the news. The quirk usually being transferred by some physical touch or substance from the user- slowly dissolving into the victim like a pill.

Pro hero Buzzkill has a quirk that gives its victim a bee sting-like welt every four and a half minutes. The vigilante Combo Breaker has a quirk that breaks one of its victim's fingers every two minutes.

And apparently, the villain he’d been fighting on patrol also shared this unique quirk factor.

The debrief had said the guy was quirkless, but one look at the shoes on his feet told Izuku otherwise.

Now, four hours and twenty-five minutes later, he’s lying on the floor of his kitchen unable to move.

His nose is pressed at an uncomfortable angle, mere inches from where his coffee mug was smashed to pieces when he dropped it.

He’d felt this odd pain in the base of his spine when he got off of patrol, and after his post-shift nap, it had only been higher up on his back and twice as intense.

Apparently, when it got to his head, he was due to lose all motor functions. Great!

The good news is that Katsuki should be home any minute, and he can pull Izuku out of this cold, black coffee puddle. Maybe he’ll even put him back in bed if he’s feeling generous.

He’s not sure how long he waits. His eyelids have drooped close, though he couldn’t open them if he wanted. He spends a while trying to determine if he’s breathing or not, but his whole body is so uncomfortably numb that he gives up.

Soon enough, the door opens and Katsuki’s gym shoes are kicked off into their cubby.

“‘M home.” He grumbles, probably not expecting an answer because Izuku is usually still napping when Katsuki gets back from his morning gym run.

Izuku isn’t sure what Katsuki notices first, maybe his socked feet lying on the ground, or the bits of red, blue, and yellow ceramic that probably skidded across the room.

“Deku? Did you fuckin’ fall?” His husband scoffs, rounding the corner to see Izuku sprawled on the floor, “Oi, get up dumbass.”

Izuku mentally winces, not prepared for the absolute earful Katsuki is going to give him later.

Katsuki walks closer, nudging the broken pieces of mug away, “Izuku?”

Ah, he’s anxious.

Izuku might’ve predicted this issue if he had thought a little harder. He’s not in any real danger, so there’s no need to worry-

“Izuku?!”

But he doesn’t know that.

“No come on,” Katsuki mumbles out loud, trying to reason logically like Izuku knows he does when he’s scared, “he hit his head and passed out- no, there’s no blood. He was tired? Maybe he wanted to sleep on the floor…”

Katsuki comes up behind him and drops to his knees, rolling Izuku over.

Light flashes in front of his eyes, but he’s powerless to blink at the sudden flash. Katsuki curses when his head flops back and smacks the tile. Stars fly across the black of his eyelids.

“Izuku, wake up.” Katsuki presses his fingers under Izuku’s jaw and curses.

There’s no way this quirk stopped his heartbeat- right?!

Katsuki pries one of his eyelids open. The cool air burns but he doesn’t flinch.

His pupil must not react either, because before he knows it Katsuki is tugging him into his arms with a frantic whimper and launching himself across their living room.

Katsuki places a leg in between Izuku’s own and wraps one of his arms under Izuku’s shoulders so he can use the other to propel them into the sky.

The wind whistles by Izuku’s ears as Katsuki wastes no time getting them to what he can only assume is the hospital a few blocks away.

The strain his arm must feel right now can only be extremely painful but Katsuki makes no sign of it.

Izuku can feel them descending, just as Katsuki’s grip on him begins to slip. Katsuki stumbles a bit on the ground, lurching forward but being sure to keep Izuku’s body in his solid grip.

“HEY!” He shouts as soon as they step through the sliding doors of the emergency bay, “I NEED A DOCTOR NOW!”

“Sir please don’t-”

“Pro hero Dynamight!” Another nurse interrupts the first, rushing towards them, “What are his vitals?”

Izuku feels himself get flipped onto a gurney, lying face up on the cold, thin fabric. He can feel everything down to his hair follicles itching to form goosebumps.

He hears the nurse gasp as soon as his hair falls out of his face.

I might be wearing pajamas, but I’m still the number one hero, he figures. I’d recognize All Might in his pajamas.

“Is that-”

“Someone who needs a fucking doctor?!” Katsuki growls, “YES.”

The nurse barks a few orders at her coworkers and, from what Izuku can tell, sprints with him down the hallway.

“Vitals?”

“No.”

The cart shudders when she briefly trips, “N-No? What do you mean-”

“I mean he wasn’t fucking responsive. I came home and he was on the fucking floor. No pulse, no breathing, no pupil dilation.” Katsuki’s voice moves to his other side, and there’s more movement before Izuku is lifted over to a different bed.

The nurse hooks a machine up to him to start pumping his chest while she darts around him, checking various other vitals.

“Shit.” She whispers to herself, pressing her warm hands into his wrist harder.

Someone slams open the door, running to Izuku’s side. His hearing blurs while they yell orders at each other, pricking Izuku with various needles.

“C’mon.” A new, higher-pitched male voice grunts in his ear as what he can assume is a shot of adrenaline is pumped into his fresh IV.

“You said you found him like this?” Another female voice asks, farther in the corner of the room where he figures Katsuki is watching.

“He passed out, there’s no obvious trauma. I have no fucking idea why.” Katsuki grunts, voice warbling. “He was on patrol a few hours ago but there was nothing in the report that would warrant this.”

“It’s not looking…” She pauses, “It’s not ideal, but we can’t rule out the possibility of it being a quirk.”

“Nothing is rousing him. We can keep the compressions going, but his body isn’t showing postmortem symptoms. I think, truly, if he comes back it will be regardless of what we do.”

Katsuki sighs, “I’m going to call his mom. Take the machine off him, she shouldn’t see him like this.”

Izuku’s head jostles as they remove the machine, his chest already feeling the ache and forming bruises.

The nurse clamps a heart rate monitor onto his finger and leaves his side, rolling whatever monstrosity of a contraption they had waiting for him on a cart out of the room.

It’s completely silent for a few minutes, not even the usual steady beep of his heart that he associates with the hospital to keep him company.

The door swings open and footsteps move towards his side.

He knows it’s Katsuki as soon as their hands touch.

His husband’s warm hands cup his own, rubbing circles into his skin.

“If you die on a random ass fucking Thursday morning when you’re not even working I’ll make sure they send you to whatever hell exists for idiots like you.”

Izuku laughs inwardly, enjoying Katsuki’s touch.

“Shitty prank. You broke your favorite mug.”

Ah damn, he forgot about that.

Katsuki’s hair tickles his forearm as the man presumably leans down, pressing his lips to Izuku’s inner wrist, “If you leave me I’ll never forgive you.” He stretches a hand over Izuku’s stomach, resting it on his soft sleep shirt. “I love you, I don’t tell you nearly enough.”

“Come back to me, Izuku.”

And Izuku wishes more than anything that he knew how.

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serickswrites · 2 months

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Meant to Be

Warnings: gun, gunshot, gunfire, gunshot wound, blood, bleeding out, mcd, hurt/no comfort

By the time the gunfire had faded to a loud ringing in Caretaker's ears, they knew it was too late. By the time they managed to crawl across the bullet strewn room, they knew it was too late. By the time they managed to pull Whumpee's limp and bloody body into their lap, they knew it was too late.

"Whumpee, Whumpee, please, Whumpee," they sobbed as they tried to rouse Whumpee. Whumpee was unresponsive as Caretaker tapped their cool cheek. Unresponsive as Caretaker tried to wake them. Unresponsive as Caretaker pressed on the large gunshot wound in their chest.

"Please, Whumpee. You weren't meant to be there. You weren't meant to be there. You weren't meant to get hurt. Please, Whumpee, open your eyes. Whumpee!"

Caretaker had carefully laid the trap to catch Whumper off guard. Laid the trap carefully so that they could stop Whumper. Laid the trap carefully so that Whumpee would be far from the action. So that Whumpee would be safe.

And it had all gone to shit.

Caretaker didn't even know how it had all gone so wrong so fast. They only knew that they had been pinned down by Whumper and their goons, each side trading shots, but not hitting anything. Until Whumpee walked in. And then Whumper had a target.

Caretaker had yelled to warn Whumpee off. Yelled to get Whumpee to leave them. But Whumpee didn't listen. They took careful cover, keeping low to the ground as they slowly made their way over to Caretaker. And just as Caretaker thought that maybe Whumpee would be safe, maybe everything would work out, Whumpee tripped, stumbling forward and into the open.

The bullet struck the left side of their chest, spinning Whumpee with a spray of blood. Whumpee went down hard and lay unmoving as their blood began to pool around them. Caretaker couldn't tear their gaze from Whumpee. The one person they had tried to protect. The one person they would have done anything to keep safe. The one person they couldn't bear to see bleed out on the floor only a few yards away.

But Caretaker couldn't go to them. Not until Whumper had been neutralized. If they had any hope of saving Whumpee, they had to stop Whumper. They couldn't extract Whumpee and get to safety if Whumper was still shooting at them.

And so Caretaker stayed hunkered down behind their cover, trading shots with Whumper until at last the gunfire ended. But it was too late.

As Caretaker sobbed into Whumpee's hair, cradling Whumpee's head in their hands, Caretaker decided it wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth waiting for the gunfire to end. It wasn't worth making sure Whumper had been stopped. It wasn't worth any of those things because Whumpee had bled out before Caretaker could get them to safety.

"You weren't meant to be here, oh God, Whumpee. Please. Open your eyes. Whumpee. I can't. Please."

But Whumpee didn't respond. Didn't take a shuddering breath. Didn't blink their eyes open and flash Caretaker their warm smile. They just lay boneless in Caretaker's arms, growing colder by the minute. Caretaker held them close and sobbed harder and harder. Held them and begged them to come back. Held them, refusing to let go, even as help arrived. Caretaker held Whumpee and refused to let help support them. They had failed and they didn't care what happened next because the one person that mattered, the one person that made them do all of this, was gone. And nothing else mattered anymore.

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asphyyxxi8 · 1 year

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Give me characters on the brink of death

Give me characters collapsing from hypothermia in the middle of nowhere, despite their best efforts to fight the unconsciousness knowing that they're miles away from any help that may come

Give me characters who are severely/fatally wounded but don't even notice it/succumb to their injuries until someone else notices due to pure adrenaline

Give me characters who need someone to save them but there's no one else around and no way to call for help

Give me characters who can tolerate the injuries they receive from the other party, but eventually collapse and pass out from exhaustion and weakness

Give me characters who, even after passing out, continue to be hurt until someone else rescues them from their situation, limp, unresponsive, and on the brink of death

Give me characters who have severe head trauma and are delirious and making no sense before passing out

Give me characters who are drowning

Give me characters who are already vulnerable getting put into a position of further vulnerability

Give me characters who are trapped

Give me characters who are choking

Give me characters who are slowly bleeding out

Give me characters going unconscious/dying in their best friend's/loved one's arms

GIVE ME CHARACTERS

Ok but actually I wanna see this please give me some 🥺🙏

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em-writes-stuff · 2 months

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unresponsive

day 21 of @febuwhump

villain and hero

1219 words

warnings: past abuse discussed, bruises, cursing, hospital stay mention (not discussed heavily)

a/n: this one kinda got away from me, but oh well? i like it, it's just not that whumpy. anyway, hope you like it!

part one here

Villain looks up from his phone and watches a shadow pass his frosted window to the front porch. The figure stands there, frozen. Villain rises from the couch and stuffs his phone in his pocket. He walks over to the door and looks through the peephole.

Hero stands there, arms wrapped around herself. Villain opens the door and pulls her inside, checking the street for any cars that might have followed her there.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, locking the door.

She looks through him, barely acknowledging him.

“Hero, what’s going on?” he says in a soft voice.

For a few more seconds, they just stand there. Villain trying to calm the worry rising in his chest with every second Hero doesn’t respond.

Hero chews on the skin inside her cheek, tears welling in her eyes. She finally focuses on Villain and shakes her head, “You were right.”

Slowly, she unzips her jacket and pulls it down for Villain to see. Her arms are covered in bruises, so is what he can see of the rest of her.

“Will you help me?” She asks, voice breaking.

Villain nods, “Of course.”

He leads her into the living room and sits her down on the couch. She pulls her jacket back over her arms and zips it up. Villain digs through a bin of blankets and tosses one her way, then takes another one out and sets it on the chair next to the couch.

“Tea?” he asks, already walking to the kitchen.

She nods, “Yes please.”

He dips into the kitchen and calls out, “What kind? I’ve got…well how about you just tell me what you like and I’ll bring it over.”

“Green tea would be great if you’ve got it,” she calls back.

He rustles through the cabinets and pulls the box out triumphantly, “Green tea: check!”

He swears he hears her chuckle and he smiles to himself while pouring boiling water into mugs. Villain sets the mugs on a plate, the tea bags next to them and digs into his cupboard for the sugar. He gets out a few packaged snacks and sets them on the plate and picks it up and brings it into the living room.

The blanket he tossed onto the chair for himself is on the couch next to Hero now, her eyes dart from him to the cushion, then back to him. He smiles warmly, sets the plate down on the coffee table and plops onto the couch, leaving a cushion between them.

“I didn’t want to guess on how strong you liked your tea, so I just bought the bag. Take whichever mug you want, I’ll drink whatever. Sugar if you want it, take some snacks, anything you want.”

Hero smiles and takes the smaller mug. She cups her hands around it and closes her eyes for a second before reaching out and grabbing the tea bag from the plate. She rips the wrapper and dunks it into her mug, swirling it around for a few seconds.

Villain takes the other mug and does the same with his tea bag, then reaches to grab a package of cookies from the plate.

Villain looks over to her, trying to gauge how to start the conversation. She’s taking a sip of the tea, letting it sit in her mouth before swallowing. He clears his throat and reaches for the remote, “Music?”

Hero nods, “Sure.”

He nods and pulls up instrumental music. “This work?”

She nods again and smiles, “Yeah, thanks.”

He sets the remote on the coffee table and opens his cookie bag. He offers it to her first, then takes one out when she rejects it.

“Do…you wanna talk about it?” He asks, wiping the cookie crumbs on his blanket.

She bites her cheek and shakes her head, “Not right now.”

Villain shifts into a more comfortable position and nods, “Do you want to talk about anything?”

She nods, but doesn’t say anything. Villain inhales sharply and sets his mug on his knee. “What about the weather? It’s been crazy lately! I mean- 20’s then 50’s and even the 70’s? What’s up with that? My perennials started to sprout and now I’m afraid they’re gonna freeze next week.”

Hero chuckles softly and smiles, “Yeah, it’s fucking with my migraines, the pressure change really messes me up.”

“Migraines suck!” Villain says, leaning forward slightly. “It’s like. Hey do you want to have a constant owch pain in your head? Too bad, here you go!”

Hero snorts and nods, “Yeah it’s horrible. And it’s so much worse because Superhero wants me to-”

She cuts herself off and looks at her hands, suddenly very interested on the border of the blanket. She bites the inside of her cheek and her brows furrow. She shakes her head and inhales shakily.

“Yeah, I remember.” Villain says, picking at his fingernails.

Hero looks up, “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head, “It was a long time ago…and I’ve changed a lot since then, but I used to be you. Or…I did what you do. I wasn’t you…obviously.”

“You worked with Superhero?” Hero asks, disbelievingly.

He nods and takes a deep breath. “I know what he’s like. Used to think that him pushing me was what was best for me…just like you do. But then…”

He shakes his head and lifts his shirt up, showing off a long, jagged scar along his abdomen.

“He told me that…everyone fights dirty and I needed to be prepared for it. So he used a piece of broken glass and…” he makes a slicing motion along the length of the scar and drops the shirt, covering the scar once again.

Hero looks at the floor, “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” Villain responds. “Anyway, he told me I couldn’t go to the hospital and had to patch it up myself, because there would be a time where I wouldn’t have the hospital as an option. And naturally, I couldn’t take care of it because I was nineteen…it got infected…and he dropped me off at a hospital. No money, no support, and he pretty much erased my existence.

After a few days in a coma, I figured out he wasn’t worth feeling sad over and I made sure that he could never actually succeed in what he’s been planning.”

“What’s he been planning?” Hero asks, opening a bag of cookies.

Villain scoffs, “Of course he stopped telling people. He wants to branch out. Cover more cities, get more power. More control. That way he can take over everything. Make it so no one steps out of line, no one can do anything he doesn’t approve of. Of course, that’s not how he says it. He just ‘Wants to be able to keep more people safe.’ And the only way he can do that is by ‘Being able to monitor people who risk the safety of others.’ Which could be anyone, by the way, so he’d have to monitor everyone.”

Hero shakes her head, “Why hasn’t he…I mean. Why does he let you…y’know? How come-”

“He doesn’t think I’m enough of a threat to kill me.” Villain interrupts.

She nods to herself, “Is he right?”

“God I hope not.” Villain says. “Could you imagine? I’ve just been doing all this for no reason?”

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday21 #unresponsive #hero #villain #villain caretaker #hero whump #hero whumpee #no whumper #em writes #em writes stuff #my writing #whump fic #whump #whumpee #whump writing

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whumpygifs · 1 year

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#till the end of the moon #episode 2 #tantai jin #whump #unconscious #unresponsive #fever #feverish #concern #caring #caretaking #mopping brow #waking from unconsciousness #exhaustion #fatigue #confusion #my gifs

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little-peril-stories · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 21 - Unresponsive

From The Prince of Thieves:

“Jamie?” I can barely get his name past my lips.

No. This—I was so sure—This can’t be—

“Lettie found him,” Verity says, beaming up at me. “That’s your brother, right?”

I stumble forward like a fucking newborn deer, unable to stand, hardly able to breathe. “Alive?”

“Yes, of course he’s—”

“Jamie!” He doesn’t respond, and as I spin wildly to look at Verity again, I see that Colette and Geoff have slipped into the room, too. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’ll be fine,” Colette says, hurrying over, grabbing my hands. “Listen, all right? Look at me. Are you lis—Will. Will.”

How am I supposed to—

She squeezes my fingers just a little tighter. “Look at me. Listen. It’s all right. He’s all right.”

“He didn’t answer me,” I say. I hear my voice crack like it belongs to someone else.

“I know. That’s because Allan gave him something for his pain and it put him to sleep, all right? He got shot after the trade, but he’s fine. He’s going to live.”

#febuwhump #lps the prince of thieves #unresponsive #gun mention #tw guns #shot #unconscious #sedated #worry #whump #whump writing #febuwhump cheater

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secret-bug-pain-blog · 2 months

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Febuwhump Day 21 - Unresponsive

We are going to be real with you on this one. We are just trying to get everything up. More truncuated fic. Context will be in the index once that's up, we're just trying to get shit done in the last few hours and we're a bit too tired to try and work out exhaustive tags.

Day seven.

Maki was starting to get worried.

Usually, Kina'd wake up within three days of him. Sure, it'd been four or five once or twice, but that was just a few times - never a week, never a full week after he'd roused himself from hibernation. Her chitin was still worryingly cool, maybe even a few shades colder than the air - he tried not to think of what that could mean for her.

Hibernation wasn't deadly. There wasn't any reason to suspect she'd be dead. They'd spent enough winters together that this should be nothing. She was just late waking up.

He packed another blanket around her.

She was bigger than him. It would take longer for her to warm enough to wake up. He just needed to speed it along, to make sure she was safe - she'd wake up fine, if he did it right.

Maki tucked a gold crystal tight to her chest, feeling its faint warmth radiate through his claws.

She'd wake up fine. She had to.

#whump #febuwhump #my posts #writing #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday21 #unresponsive #bug fables #kina #maki #bodysharing au

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cynicalone94 · 2 months

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Unresponsive

Read on AO3 here.

It’s so hot.

Sweltering heat is almost a daily occurrence but the suffocating lack of air is new.

They almost always have windows and the gunner hatch open when driving. It’s essential to keeping airflow through the cab.

There’s some air moving near his right hand but not nearly enough. And it’s dark, nearly pitch black.

What happened?

He thinks he remembers some kind of accident. Had they hit an IED? Or maybe crashed into something.

Why can’t he remember?

And where are his guys? There’s no way they would have gone off and left him alone and injured in the vehicle.

“Mouse?” he calls, his voice breathy and weak, coughing as he inhales a mouthful of musty, chemical infused air.

There must have been damage to the coolant system because all he can taste is antifreeze.

“Pete? Matt? Eric?”

Talking makes his chest hurt and nobody is responding to him. Could they still be unconscious?

He feels around in the dark.

His leg screams with the movement but he ignores it, focusing on his task.

He doesn’t find anything. No people, no seats, no dashboard.

Where the hell is he? The metallic frame around him supports a vehicle but suggests a trunk. And humvees don’t have trunks.

He moves his hand back toward the airflow, feeling around the gap in the metal.

It’s shaped like a tail light. Mostly.

So he’s in a trunk. But where? And how?

He closes his eyes, the dark feeling less suffocating that way, and makes a list of what he knows.

He’s in the trunk of a car. The tail light had been knocked out but the frame has also been warped, possibly by an accident.

It’s dark, even through the hole from the tail light. And it’s still hot as hell.

He’s alone. Definitely in the trunk and nobody has responded to his calls so it’s likely that nobody is nearby.

He can smell chemicals; antifreeze but also he thinks something else.

He’s injured. It’s difficult to assess in the dark but so far he’s aware of his leg, his chest and his head.

A breeze moves past the hand that he’s still sticking out of the hole from the tail light.

A gentle, cool breeze that doesn’t feel anything like Afghanistan.

And doesn’t carry any sand.

Could he be in Chicago? His memories of getting here are so muddled that he supposes anything is possible.

And why does he feel so hot?

An ache pulses through his leg as if in response to the question.

A fever.

He feels his leg, finding scraps of fabric tied around his calf where the pain seems to be originating.

It feels more like a t-shirt than bandages so he must have done it himself, to stop the bleeding.

He thinks he feels some dried blood on the material but it’s not actively soaking through so he’d succeeded.

He wants to rip it off, to check for infection and try to figure out what had happened to his leg but he knows he won’t be able to tell either in the dark.

He’s just liable to restart the bleeding.

And since the feel of his jacket against bare skin suggests that it was his own t-shirt that he used, he’s pretty well out of supplies to stop it again if it does.

He lets his head thud back against the carpeted floor beneath him, immediately regretting it both for the pain that shoots through his skull and for the cloud of thick, musty dust that it shakes free.

He rolls toward the hole, gasping for fresh air as he coughs, arm snaking around his aching chest.

He finally stops coughing but it’s still next to impossible to draw in a breath.

He needs air.

He still doesn’t even know where he is and now he can’t breathe.

Someone has to be looking for him by now, right? Whatever had happened, however he’d gotten here, wherever he is, someone must be looking for him.

Whoever they are, they need to hurry.

Because it’s getting harder and harder to breathe.

He gives up, sinking into the comforting darkness.

Hailey stands back from the car, watching while Kelly Severide uses the jaws of life to pry open the trunk.

It’s nearly midnight. Fifteen hours since her partner was lured into an ambush and kidnapped.

They’d finally located the car that he’d been thrown into, crashed into a stand of trees on the side of a deserted road in the middle of nowhere.

The driver had been killed on impact. Whether any other players involved in this had been unable to find them or they’d taken this as a bad sign and given up on whatever plan they’d had doesn’t matter right now.

Not to her at least.

Kim, Kevin and Adam are looking into the driver and trying to identify associates.

Hailey only has eyes for the trunk of the car.

She’d been the first on scene, had gotten a look at her partner through the kicked out tail light.

Had shoved her arm through the hole to press her fingers into the side of his neck, closing her eyes as she felt the weak pulse beat against them.

Had screamed at him, begging him to wake up and answer her.

But he’d been unresponsive, not reacting in the slightest to her touch or her voice.

And then the fire department had reached them and she’d been forced to step back, to watch them work.

Sylvie and Emily stand next to her, bouncing slightly on the balls of their feet as they prepare to dive in the moment the twisted metal is jerked apart.

As if prodded forward by her thoughts, a creaking, groaning sound fills the air and the trunk flies open.

Severide barely has time to get out of the way before the paramedics dive in, assessing her partner for injuries.

Scraps of his t-shirt are wrapped around his right calf, traces of blood appearing at the center. His head is bleeding, a large gash present on the left side.

Severide helps them lift him out, getting him settled on the stretcher and he reacts for the first time with a pained groan.

Sylvie pulls his jacket off of him and they all stare for just a little too long at the bruising on his right side.

“He must have been slammed pretty hard in the crash.” she says after a moment, shaking the shock off and turning her attention to his arm to start an IV. “Looks like broken ribs for sure.”

An oxygen mask is slid over his face and he coughs weakly.

“Nasty fumes in that trunk.” Severide comments. “But I don’t smell anything too toxic.”

“He’s a little hypoxic.” Emily says. “I think his ribs on top of the limited air was making it hard to breathe.”

Sylvie is prying his eyelids open, checking pupil response.

“Concussion but I think it’s minor.” she says. “We’ll have to wait for the CT to know for sure.”

“Temperature is up.” Emily comments, reaching over to cut the t-shirt away from his leg with trauma sheers. “And I think this is the source. It must be infected.”

“Let’s get him to Med.” Sylvie says.

There’s at least three hospitals closer to them right now than Med so the fact that he’s stable enough to make the trip to his preferred one does a lot to soothe Hailey’s frazzled nerves.

She walks alongside as they wheel him to the ambulance, holding his hand and wishing he would open his eyes and insist that he’s ‘just fine’.

But he doesn’t.

Not as the stretcher is jostled by being lifted into the back of the ambulance.

Not the entire drive to Med as Sylvie flits around him, checking vitals and checking on the bullet wound in his leg.

Not as the stretcher is pulled out of the ambulance, Hailey pushed back as he’s raced into a trauma bay.

Even nearly an hour later when she’s shown into his room, being briefed by Will on his minor concussion, three broken ribs, and a nasty infection, he still doesn’t stir.

She sits by his bed the entire day, eating whatever Will brings her and being plied with coffee by all of the nurses on the floor.

The only times she leaves are when she has to run to the bathroom because of that coffee and she almost denies the next cup they bring her but she’s also been awake for almost two days at this point so she accepts it.

Even so, she falls asleep a little after dinner, her head resting on the side of his bed.

She wakes up to him tossing anxiously in his sleep, whispered muttering only muffled further by the mask still over his face.

“Easy, baby.” she soothes. “It’s okay, Jay. You’re okay.”

Hearing Mouse and humvee cross his lips she stands up, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching up with the wet washcloth to wipe his face and neck.

“You’re in Chicago, Jay.” she says as she works. “At Med sleeping off an ugly car accident and a gunshot wound. Your leg is infected but Will says the antibiotics are already working, that you’ll be fine in no time. Mouse is in Afghanistan but he’s coming home for a couple days next month and you guys have plans to go to a Bears game.”

He starts to settle and she keeps talking.

She’s partway through updating him on the case, what little she knows anyway, when his eyes flicker open.

“Hail?” He rasps.

“Hey you.” she says, setting aside the washcloth to push the call button and then taking his hand.

“Feel like shit.” he mutters.

“I know.” she tells him, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand. “But you’re doing better already.”

“Happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“S’fuzzy. Car accident? But… not a humvee?”

“Not a humvee.” she confirms. “We were at a crime scene when you saw a suspicious person. They fled, you pursued. Right into the ambush. They shot you in the leg and tossed you in the trunk of a car. Managed to lose the pursuit and then crashed. It took us a while to find the car.”

“What… they want?”

“We’re not sure.” she admits. “The driver was killed in the crash. I think the team was bringing in a suspect last time we talked but I was more concerned about your unconscious ass.”

He cracks a tired grin and she smiles back.

His eyes are getting heavy and she debates trying to keep him awake until the doctor gets there before deciding against it.

They can talk to him the next time he’s awake.

“Go to sleep, baby.” she says, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “I’ll be here when you wake up. I love you.”

“Love you too.” he whispers, eyes slipping closed and his breathing evening out.

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday21 #unresponsive #follow up to solitary confinement #solitary confinement #jay halstead #chicago pd #whump fic

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blackrosesandwhump · 9 days

Text

Whumpril Day 22: Stoicism Breaks

A/N: Ren is a character I created for Febuwhump here.

CW: emotional whump, captivity

Human weapons aren’t allowed to have feelings. But as Ren stands in front of Jude’s suspended body, he feels himself breaking. His own body, though now a weapon, is still partly human. And the sight floods him with emotions that threaten to drown him.

Cold, greenish light illuminates Jude’s outstretched arms, his colorless, dead-looking skin, the thick vines wrapped tight around his torso and limbs like a monstrous snake. He hangs in place, limp, unresponsive.

And it’s all Ren’s fault. Ren’s fault that Jude was captured in the first place. Ren’s fault that he didn’t arrive in time to save his teammate. No, his friend. Human weapons aren’t allowed to have friends either, but as Ren sinks to his knees, shattered, the truth presses in on him as if he too were being strangled by those unearthly vines.

For some reason, he has friends. And his existence could get them all killed.

#whump #whumpril2024 #whumprilday22 #stoicism breaks #human weapon #emotional whump #captivity #suspended #captured whumpee #unresponsive #guilt #original character #picrew character #blackroseswrites #whump snippet #whump drabble #hanged #torture

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waywardwizzard · 2 months

Text

"What the ta ma de happened?" Mal hissed, pressing a hand to his forehead, frowning when it came away bloody.

Smoke poured into the shuttle and he coughed, flicking a few switches.

"Serenity, come in Serenity."

The comms crackled, gave an ear bleeding screech and died.

Mal cursed, coughing as more and more smoke poured in.

Rutting XT- whatevers. He told Kaylee to replace them last time they where on planet.

"Doc'!" the Captain yelled, tumbling out of the pilot chair, "Doc', where the diyu are you?"

He tripped over a crate, the metal box leaving a large cut behind.

"Ai ya!" Mal cursed, looking around the shuttle through the blanket of smoke, "My patience is wearing mightily thin, boy-"

He stopped and cursed, limping over to the farthest end of the shuttle. Simon was laying propped up against the wall, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow.

Kneeling, Mal felt for a pulse before gently tapping the doctor's cheek, ignoring the blood that was slowly trickling into his eye.

"C'mon kid, wake up. This ain't no time to be sleeping."

□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□□

Author's note-

My phone is on 5% so I'm sorey that this piece stopped so abruptly, I'll maybe add a better ending tomorrow.

#firefly #serenity #browncoats #space western #browncoats unite #firefly fanfiction #sci fi #malcolm reynolds #simon tam #febuwhump #browncoat for life #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday21 #whump #unresponsive

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its-my-whump · 2 months

Text

Febuwhump - Day 21

Unresponsive

(Part 1 here)

Tw: drugged, knocked out, gore

@febuwhump

"Hey Andy, wake up!... You hit him too hard." Elisabeth is kneeling beside Andys limp form, looking angry back at Roger.

"He was trying to kill me." Matthew announced visibly shaken from the coach.

"I said, this was a horrible idea." The girl on the floor states frustrated. "And yet you participated." Sandy adds.

"Yeah, yeah. Gimma a towel or something. Andys really bleeding bad."

"Leave him. He tried to kill me." Matthew slowly finding his composer again, color turning back to his pale cheeks. "We drugged him and you provoked him..." Sandy starts. "Would you shut up. Give me something to stop the bleeding and call an ambulance." Elisabeth shouts.

"Hey Andy. Wake up." Her voice is gentle and soothing as she slightly brushes her hand against his ghostly white cheek. All anger and fury gone from his face. He looks small and weak, dark circles under his closed eyes. Blood tickles down the right side of his face, a little puddle already under his head.

She's pressing her little tissue again the strongly bleeding laceration, but gore already stains her fingers for the little piece of fabric is quickly soaked through. Sandy comes with a dark blue towel out of nowhere and exchanges it for Elisabeth tissue, positioning herself above his head. She presses the towel against the side of his head with her right hand and puts her left against his other temple to get some leverage.

"Come on Andy. Open your eyes." Elisabeth pleads, slapping his cheek more firmly. But the unconscious man doesn't stir. "Shit." Roger hisses, taking position on Andys other side, opposite of Elisabeth.

"Fuck. Andy? Come on my man. Open your fucking eyes. Cut it out, man." Strong hands take a hold of Andys shoulders and start to shake his tensionless body. "STOP!" Sandy yells, trying to keep the head between her hands steady.

"Is he even breathing?" And unsure question comes from Matthew on the coach. "Fuck! Don't do that to me, Andy!" Roger complains, pulling his hands from the man's shoulders and holds his palm under Andys nose. "I don't know." Desperation is letting Rogers voice go higher. Elisabeth pushes his hand out of the way and brings her left ear over Ands face, looking at his chest. "Yes, he's breathing."

Roger pinches Andy left nipple under his shirt, but nothing happens. "Stop that, you pervert." Elisabeth slaps his hand away.

Roger gets his hands up in a disarming gesture. While she takes a look in Andys eyes, pulling his lids up one after the other, Roger grabs for the limp right arm and pulls it from the ground.

"ROGER!" Sandy yells, looking at him angry, as her hands press the towel against the bleeding wound and keep the unconscious man's head in place.

Roger looks like a child, caught with his hands in the cookie jaw and lets go of Andys arm. It just falls back to the ground limply.

Elisabeth is still trying to rise Andy, talking to him, gently slapping his cheek, but there's nothing.

"Now, would someone please call a fucking ambulance!" She barks into the room.

My masterlist

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday21 #unresponsive #drugged #knockout #whump #writing #whump writing #whump community

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