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hyperfixat · 7 months

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day 14 of ai less whumptober: No Anesthesia

supporting these posts helps encourage my writing and creating, thanks!

(@ailesswhumptober)

The sound of one of your joints popping and the breaking of a bone are terribly similar. Too similar, in fact. The brothers have broken many bones in their infinite time.

The first snap, crackle, pop of your joints had made everyone in the room freeze. Leviathan, in the middle of talking about some new limited Ruri-chan figure, stopped. All seven pairs of eyes stare at you in horror.

Did the human die? Are they broken? Fragile thing, what would Lord Diavolo say?

You freeze as well, hands intertwined and held above your head.

Lucifer seems to have gotten even paler than his usual pale-ness. Mammon’s gaze catches yours and is filled with absolute horror, and Asmo. Asmodeus looks on the verge of illness, eyes wide and face sickly gray.

“Ohmygod,” Levi breathes out in absolute shock.

“What’s wrong?” You’re a little nervous at their odd behavior, and as to what happened to make their moods flip so suddenly.

“Are you okay?” Satan is on his feet, walking over to you, attempting to inspect you for any injuries. Mammon flies to his feet as well.

“Hey, hey hands to yourself! The Great Mammon can do that.” He pushes Satan aside without any real force. Together their hands and eyes cover you, like a TSA pat down.

“Does anything hurt?” Lucifer asks while you’re nearly being groped.

“No?” Confusion fills your voice.

A worried whimper comes out of Beel and he turns to Belphie, “so bad it’s numb.” You think you hear him say.

“Nothing seems broken,” Satan says, he’s squatting down to check your legs and feet. He lifts himself to standing. His eyes are somber as he gently takes hold of your shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Mammon shifts on his feet behind you, hand brushing over your shoulder blades, where you popped.

“Yeah? I was just stretching…”

Asmo inches over to you, crawling on the floor slowly like you’re a landmine that could detonate at any second.

“You cracked.” It’s an accusation. Lucifer near glowers at you.

“It happens.” You shrug.

“No it doesn’t,” Lucifer glares this time.

“Maybe not to you, but it’s normal,” you side eye him.

A hand on the hem of your pants. Asmo looks up at you, horror still plastered on his face.

Dramatic.

You pat his head and some color returns to his face.

“What happened then?” Belphegor challenges you.

“I cracked my back.”

“How?” Mammon’s jaw drops. “That’s horrible.”

“It feels good.” You defend. “You guys can’t crack things?”

“No!” Asmo cries out. “That sounded horrendous.”

“Oh.”

It’s confusing, demons and angels don’t make sounds like that. No one hasn’t let themself grow used to the noise, they’ll never let themselves. Because the haunting what if? will never leave.

Eyes always fly to you the second one of your bones shift; it’s sweet they care, but they’re worried over nothing! You’ve never broken a bone, ever.

You jinxed yourself.

Today you broke a bone. Well, you’re pretty sure you’ve at least done something you shouldn’t have to your bone. The splintered edge of the bone sticks out gruesomely from your forearm. Yeah, that’s not normal.

Blood drips onto the bathroom floor and you don’t know why you aren’t crying right now. The demon had handled you too roughly. Shoved you out of the way too hard and you hit the air dryer bolted into the wall then this happened.

They had looked at you with a mixture of shock and fear as the sickening crunch of your arm registered, and the coppery scent of blood began filling the air. Panic took over the stranger and they ran out of the bathroom, leaving you to sit on the floor and stare in shock at your horrible looking arm.

Your stomach churns and you look towards the ceiling and blink to try and clear your mind.

The demon fled the second his actions dawned upon them, fleeing the scene of the crime. Smart fella.

The scent of blood permeates the air and you know you won’t be alone for long. A hungry demon is bound to find you the way you are just bleeding.

And just as the thought hits you, the bathroom door flies open and Asmo is rushing towards you. Concern and panic lace his features as he places a gentle hand on your injured arm. You wince.

“Sorry, dear, but I need to get this tied off.” His voice is sweet and your head rolls to the side as you relax, because your Asmo is here. Things’ll be alright now. Mammon stands anxiously behind him, avoiding looking at your wound.

The bathroom door has swung closed again and you relish in the privacy of having you Asmo and Mammon take care of you.

“Oh, who did this, MC?” Asmo keeps the lilt in his voice, although it is strained. “Hmm? Who would hurt you?” Golden eyes attempting to meet yours.

You crane your head further back to avoid the lure of Asmodeus’ eyes, “it was an accident.”

There’s a tug at the junction of your elbow.

He makes a displeased hum, “Mammon, fetch Satan for me, he’ll know how to fix this better than me. Oh, Barbatos too if you happen across him.”

Mammon gives your uninjured arm a pat and follows orders.

“Alright sweetheart,” Asmo kisses your cheek, “this might hurt a bit. I’m gonna have a little bit of help to fix your arm up. You’re in good hands, doll.”

You hear ripping fabric then have to hold back a scream as Asmo begins to wrap the exposed gore.

“I know,” he sighs sympathetically. “I know.” He keeps it tight on your arm and you take some deep breaths.

The door swings back open and Satan and Mammon come in, Barbatos in tow. Satan’s face twists into a grimace as the scent registers. The two that Mammon fetched kneel at your sides adjacent to Asmo, Barbatos tears his white gloves off and takes hold of your upper arm, applying firm pressure.

“Fuck,” Satan hisses out, fidiling with his pockets. He pulls out something silver and metallic and you wince and turn away.

When you do so you bump your face into Mammon’s chest, where he’d taken to holding you steady.

You do your best to keep quiet when you feel them begin to work on your arm, but you can’t help a pained, breathless moan.

“Sorry, your pain cannot be helped,” Barbatos puts his bare hand on your knee and attempts to give it a comforting squeeze. It doesn’t do much, but you're grateful.

You feel sharpness cutting away at flesh and muscle. Your eyes bulge and you grip Mammon’s forearm with all the strength you can muster.

Fuck, it hurts so bad, it’s all you can do not to scream or passout.

“Shh,” Asmo soothes, you peek an eye open and glare at him.

“I can’t,” you stutter out.

“Yes you can, I’m almost done.” Satan says, voice plain.

You feel Barbatos stand and walk to the dryer you were shoved into. Peeking out the corner of your eye you see him crouch and investigate. His bloodied white glove runs through the half dried viscera painting the floor. You’re torn away from watching him when a new pain rocks through your nerves.

A sharp crunch resonates through your body as Asmodeus and Satan shove your bone back into place. You let out a hoarse squeal and there’s a fresh round of hushing from Asmo and Mammon. Your breaths come in wheezing bursts and Barbatos comes to kneel a bit in front of you.

“I trust these three with fixing you up for now. I must report this to the Young Master.” Barbatos gives a sympathetic smile and stands to leave. “I will tend to you at a later point, MC.”

A sharp, pointed pain in, and a sharp pain out. Steeling your nerves you peek at your newly shoved back inside arm to see Asmo sewing your flesh shut as Satan holds it closed.

It takes an excruciatingly long three minutes for them to finish and tie off the stitches.

“Now, darling,” Asmo’s stained hand reaches to cup your jaw, “when we get home, we’ll talk about finding whoever did this to you.”

“Don’t be too harsh now, Asmodeus.” Satan chides, holding your injured arm soothingly. “They’re sure to be in a lot of pain right now. Save that conversation for when they’re feeling better, okay?” When he finishes the sentence, he nuzzles into the side of your head affectionately.

“Let’s get you home now,” Asmo says, blatantly ignoring his older brother.

As Mammon helps you to your feet he speaks, “we should probably stop by the student council office and let Lucifer know that they’ll be missing from classes. And,” Mammon turns his attention to you. “Don’t you worry, the Great Mammon will be with you the whole time you’re healin’ up!”

#obey me #verified hyperfixat post #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer x mc #obey me mammon #leviathan x mc #satan x y/n #beel x reader #belphegor x reader #demon brothers x reader #ailesswhumptober2023 #ai less whumptober #ailesswhumptoberday14

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ohtobeleah · 7 months

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Dream A Little, Dream Of Me // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: How are you supposed to sleep when all you see when you close your eyes is your dead and soaking wet husband?

Warnings: Mentions of Insomnia. Insomniac!reader. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Death. Mentions of loss. Platonic Jake Seresin.

Word Count: 1.7k

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

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Aviators can’t be lazy, the risks are just too great. The second they stop pushing themselves, the second they stop focusing, something terrible always happens. Something that you never see coming always happens and it shakes you to your very core.

Like losing the love of your life.

“When’s the last time you slept?” You could hear Jake murmur at you from across your bedroom. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest assessing the mess that was your bedroom. The bedroom up until three weeks prior you shared with your husband, Rooster. “Y/n?” Jake tried to grab your attention yet again but all you did was continue to look out the window—watching as the rain fell outside in the depth of the night. Illuminated by the solar lights that you and Rooster had hung for the fall season. Halloween pumpkins were strewn across the awning, in all honesty they’d probably stay there till after Christmas. You couldn’t find it in yourselves to take them down now.

Bradley always did enjoy the days when it rained. When he was a kid he hated rainy days. But the more he grew up, moved into adulthood, excelled in his career and fell in love with you, he enjoyed the rain a little bit more and more. All because he got the day off to spend with you. His wife. The absolute love of his life. It had been your first rainy day without him.

“That’s it, I’m taking you to see a doctor.” Jake sighed in defeat as he made his way across the room towards where you sat with your knees pulled up to your chest and your cheek resting on your knee. “Rooster wouldn’t want you to waste away at his expense.”

You knew why Jake was doing this, why he was being overbearing and fiercely protective of your mental stability. He’d promised Bradley, your Bradley, that he’d take care of you. Whatever he had to do. It was a locker room promise—the type of promise you make when your almost certain someone isn’t coming back.

“If anything happens to me, take care of my girl Hangman.” Jake could still hear Rooster's voice ringing in his mind like a bell that had been dinged in silence. “Don’t leave her hanging, look after her for me.” But Jake Seresin was only one man who could only do so much for a woman who didn’t want to be helped.

And that locker room promise was made years before Rooster ever suspected a thing.

“Hey, come on Y/n, look at me?” Jake begged as he sat down beside you. “Please?” When you crained your neck the other way to face where Jake sat, he sent you a soft smile that you barely recognised as his own. “You’re not taking care of yourself, and unfortunately for you that’s not an option you have.”

“My husbands dead.” Your voice was rash, like you hadn’t spoken in days. You didn’t do an awful lot these days. “Every time I close my eyes I see him—“ Jake didn’t speak, all he did was listen as he reached out to draw you closer into his chest as he let his back rest against the headboard. “He’s dead and everytime I close my eyes I see nothing but him.”

Jake couldn’t begin to imagine what you must have been going through, Rooster was his best friend, his wingman—and his heart hurt every damn day he wasn’t around. So to even begin to understand the magnitude of your grief was something Jake knew he’d never be able to understand.

But then you told Jake the truth—the truth about why you wouldn’t sleep. Why you wouldn’t close your eyes and allow yourself a little reprieve. To see the man you missed so much and his blood ran cold. It felt like shards of ice were coursing through his veins and in that moment Jake didn’t know how to respond.

“He keeps telling me that he’s cold.” Exhaustion laced your words as you let yourself rest in Jake's warm embrace. “That he’s so cold and can’t get warm.” Jake was there, he remembered the accident all too well. “Everytime I see him he’s soaking wet Jake and everytime I wake up I swear the floor where he was just standing is still damp.”

It didn’t matter what time of day it was or if it was the middle of the night—if you let your eyes close for even a second, all you saw was him. Your husband, begging you to join him.

“It’s just your grief Y/n.” Jake tried to console you the best he could. “Your mind is playing cruel tricks on you because of how tired you are.” You knew it was the truth. “You need to rest, you can’t avoid sleep for this long without being affected.” Jake held you close, he had every intention of making sure you were okay after Bradley's death. He’d promised to take care of you. “It’s not healthy, if not for yourself you gotta sleep for Rooster—he wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself.”

“He keeps asking me to join him.” Jake's heart stopped inside his chest because as much as the fact you weren’t sleeping was a problem, that—that one sentence alone was cause for concern. “He begs me to, says that he needs me.” Your whimpers hummed against Jake's chest as he kissed the top of your head and inhaled the scent of your shampoo.

God of all the people this had to happen to why on god's green earth did it have to be you? Why did it have to be you that lost the love of your life, and why was Jake now slowly losing his.

“And the worst part is that I’m not strong enough to say I can’t.”

“I think it’s time that you talk to someone, someone who can help you through this.” The first thing Jake was going to do once he’d gotten you to sleep was to call Phoenix for the name of the doctor she saw back in June. You needed to see someone. “But for now? I’m gonna stay right here, and you’re gonna close your eyes—because you need to sleep Y/n.”

“I miss my husband.” Again you ignored the pleading tone in Jake's voice that seemed to be the only reason he spoke these days. “So much it hurts.”

“I miss him too.” Jake cooed as he held you tight, held you close, held your head against his chest and cried with you. He let you curl into his side and tug at his shirt as you screamed and cried out your husband's name until you swore your throat was raw. “And he loved you so much—“ Jake gently stroked your hair as he felt you settling into him. “He loved everything there is to possibly love you about you.”

There are times in everyone’s lives when love really does conquer all. Exhaustion, sleep deprivation, insomnia. Anything. And then there are those times when it seems like love brings nothing but pain.

“I don’t know how to do any of this without him.” Your words were a little less strained as you settled into Jake's warm embrace. “I don’t know how to live a life after him, Hangman.”

“How about we try and take it day by day? Together, we’ll try to figure out a way to get through, together—because I promised Rooster that I’d take care of you and I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” Jake didn’t press when you didn’t answer, but he knew by the staggered length of your small barely noticeable whimpers that you were losing the battle against your will to stay awake.

“You go to sleep, go see your husband and I will be right here when you wake up okay?” Jake cooed as he continued to stroke your hair behind your ear. “Tell him off for me, for getting distracted, for letting—“ Jake held his tongue, he was about to tell you, to tell Bradley, he shouldn’t have been so distracted up there.

But then again, Rooster was the one who confronted Jake in the first place. It was Rooster who shoved him in the hallway of the carrier they were doing over water training on. Rooster was the one who accused Jake of being in love with his wife.

And Jake was the one who’d told him that yes, yes he was.

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

Jake woke with a gasp when he realised he’d fallen asleep with you in Bradley’s bed. He should have known better than to get himself into this situation, but he’d promised—he’d always promise Rooster that he’d take care of you if anything happened.

He just never thought that day would come, and that it would technically be his fault too.

But the more Jake came to he realised he was alone. Alone in your bedroom that up until three weeks ago you shared with your husband.

“Y/n?” Jake frowned as he looked around and sat up. Surely you hadn’t gone too far, surely he hadn’t been asleep for more than an hour. “Y/n?” Again Jake frowned as he swung his legs over the edge of the side of the bed his best friend used to sleep on.

When Jake's feet hit the carpet his entire body turned to stone as his bare feet felt the water that had seeped into the carpet. Cold, icy water that took the breath right out of his lungs.

“I took her with me so you couldn’t ever have her.” Bradley’s voice made Jake jump almost into the stratosphere. He was standing right there at the edge of the bed with you asleep in his sopping wet arms. “You won’t ever get her, won’t ever know what it’s like to be loved by her—“

It was the shouting that filled the bedroom that woke Jake up, his own shouting as he wrapped you tighter in his arms before you had a chance to jolt awake out of his embrace. He’d fallen asleep—only for what felt like a few minutes. He hadn’t been sleeping well either, but now that he’d seen what you were experiencing? What had been keeping you awake, he understood. For all the wrong reasons.

“You saw him too.” You mumbled against Jake as your eyes remained wide and awake, watching as the water pooled in the carpet beside your bed.

“Didn’t you?”

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

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

#ailesswhumptober2023 #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw angst #bradley bradshaw Whump #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine

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sarahsmi13s · 7 months

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Just a Little Guidance

whumptober day 6: forced to hurt someone

pairing: tim bradford x reader (oc last name: blake)

characters: tim bradford, y/n blake, zoe andersen, jackson west, john nolan, lucy chen, thane riggs (oc villain)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, blood, fighting, stabbing, mentions of SA, being held captive, forced to hurt someone, forced to hurt partner, crying, quitting, if i missed anything please please please let me know

word count: ~1.8k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

also also, i do want to apologize for getting this up late got distracted while writing it so i finished it later than i had hoped

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary:

You stood in front of Captain Andersen’s desk, hands shaking as you listened to her tell you about everything that would need to happen before you could return to duty.

Tonguing your split lip, you shook your head. Tears gathered in your eyes as you looked at your trembling, still blood stained, hands as your shield and gun rested in them

How could they let you back to work after everything that happened? Tim was still in the hospital, you got to leave after just a few days. But what you saw, what you and Tim experienced over those two weeks… you couldn’t trust yourself.

“I-I’m sorry Captain… but I can’t,” you said softly, your bruised and busted hands curling around the items in your them.

She tilted her head, “I’m not sure I understand.”

You sat your shield and gun on her desk, “I’m not coming back… I’m sorry… but I quit.”

Zoe nodded, giving you a sympathetic look as you avoided her eyes. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?” You shook your head before she was even finished. “No, I’m sorry Captain… but I can’t. I’m quitting, I’ve made up my mind. I’m sorry.”

Without giving her a chance to reply, you turned on your heel and left.

You sat curled up in the hospital chair, just staring at Tim’s unconscious form laying there in the bed.

There were words stuck in your throat. It was like they were coming up sideways, choking you before coming up in broken fragments on your tongue.

What the hell could you say? Tim was laying in a hospital bed because of you. You had put him there. An apology just wouldn’t make that go away. Make what you did go away.

You sat in the uncomfortable chair, picking scabs and prodding at bruises as your mind replayed everything. Never giving you a chance to rest or forget what you did.

“I’m sorry, Tim… I’m so so sorry,” you sobbed, looking down at your blood covered hands.

“It’s okay, baby,” Tim winced at the way your hands tried to patch him up from the wounds you had put there that day. “You’re doing this to protect yourself and for us to survive. I’m not mad.”

You shook your head, “I should be stronger than this…”

“Thane is a fucking psycho, do not put this blame on yourself,” he grunted as he sat up. “Hey, look at me.” You sniffled and looked up, “I’m hurting you, Tim. I shouldn’t hurt you, under any circumstance… even this. I should have let him–”“Don’t say that, don’t you dare say that.”

“You were ready to take a bullet for me!”

“Because you don’t deserve to die!”“And you do?!”

You panted a little, “I shouldn’t be hurting you… I don’t want to hurt you.” He grabbed your hand, not caring about his own blood slicking up his hand. “I know that, and I can handle it. They’re coming, I know they are. I can hold out until then.”

“But what if I can’t?”

After that conversation it was eerie silence as you both tried to sleep.

It was hard for you to fall asleep. The copper scent of Tim’s blood on your hands made you sick to your stomach . The substance was sticky and drying to your skin. Thane wasn’t allowing you to wash your hands, letting Tim’s blood dry on your hands in layers.

And when you woke up the next day it was your turn.

You were simply a punching bag. Though Thane would call it a ‘boxing match’. If you won, the next day you wouldn’t have to hurt Tim and you both got a decent meal with fresh water.

But you couldn’t win.

You had gotten close the first few times. But Thane was an ex-Navy SEAL so he could take you down like it was nothing. And as time went on, you got weak. You didn’t have the energy to put up a decent fight and even give yourself hope. The only reason you still attempted was to keep Tim safe.

That night you sat on the floor with your head down and an arm clutching your side as your ribs ached.

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly. Tim grunted as he turned to look at you, “Why are you sorry?” You sniffled, “I can’t win…” “You’re not supposed to win. He just likes to give you hope…”

“I can’t keep doing this Timmy… hurting you, I can’t…”

“If you don’t-”

“Yeah, I know. But I’m not going to kill you… I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

You didn’t give him a chance to respond and just got in your bed and tried to sleep.

The next morning, Thane woke you up with gentle caresses on your face.

“Time to wake up,” he said gently, pulling you up and to your feet. “C’mon we have a big day ahead of us.”

You whimpered as he pulled you over to a table, gun pressed to your lower back. “Pick your first weapon.”

You shake your head, tears spilling over, “No.”

Thane growled and pulled harshly on your hair, making you look up at him. “You pick or I do, I won’t tell you again.” The gun digs into your back, “And you won’t like what I pick.”

You gritted your teeth as he pulled your hair harder, “I’m done playing your game. Shoot me.”

“Y/N, it’s okay…” Tim said, but his words were breathy. “I-I can take it.”

“You hear that? He can take it,” Thane smirked before kissing your forehead. “Pick up the knife.”

“I said, no.”

He growled before slamming your face down on the table.

Tim looked away, jaw clenched as you cried out a little. You don’t blame him, you’d look away too.

This position hadn’t been unfamiliar.

Often after those boxing matches, Thane would use your weak state to release other frustrations.

So you just closed your eyes and braced yourself.

“Oh look at you,” he cooed, his hand rubbing your back. “Mmmm you’ve learned. But right now isn’t about us. It’s about you and Tim. So pick up the knife or I will fuck you as you look your boyfriend in the eyes. Pick. It. Up.”

“Pick up the knife, Y/N…”

“Okay! Okay…”

Thane smirked and pulled you back up to stand. “Good girl.”

Your hand shook as you wrapped your fingers around the blade’s handle. The thought of turning and plunging it into your capture’s stomach flashed in your mind but you knew better. You weren’t fast enough and his trigger finger was quick.

Eyes filling with tears, Thane guided you forward.

“Stab him.”

Your eyes widened and you turned your head to face him. “W-what?”

“You heard me, stab him.”

“That wasn’t-”

“Do it or I'll shoot him in the head.”

You closed your eyes, sobbing as your hands shook violently. “It’s okay Y/N. It’s gonna be okay,” Tim reassured, kissing the top of your head.

But you didn’t believe him.

When it was just cuts or burns, it was easier to believe that he would be okay. But you could see that he was weak. He was shaking from blood loss and he could barely keep his eyes open. His voice was tired and breathy so he desperately tried to put authority in it.

But it wasn’t working.

You shook your head, crying openly as you brought up the knife.

He gritted his teeth and braced himself as you found a spot on his torso and pushed the tip of the blade in.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you whispered tearfully, pulling the knife back out.

You watch horrified as blood leaks out of the new wound and down his side. You had hurt him, again. It made you feel sick.

Suddenly, Thane’s right in your ear, his eyes on the bare half inch of blood on the blade.

“Oh, come on now. Don’t waste my time,” he growled. He wrapped his arms around you and put his hands on top of yours.

“No, no please,” you begged through your tears, trying to fight him.

But your resistance was used in Thane’s favor as he used your combined force to plunge the knife into Tim’s stomach.

You gasped, feeling the sickening warm feeling of fresh blood coating your hands.

Tim couldn't hold back his shout of agony, gritting his teeth as tears came to his eyes.

Thane leaned in, laughing in your ear as you sobbed, “Look at that, seems like all you needed was just a little guidance.”

You covered your mouth, smearing blood on your face as your eyes stayed unmoving from the knife handle. You could have collapsed to the floor in a sobbing heap if Thane hadn’t had arms around you.

“Ooooh not so fast there Y/N. One’s not going to cut it, sweetheart. Take it out and do it again.”

When you hesitated, Thane took your hands and wrapped them around the handle, “Take it-”

“LAPD DROP YOUR WEAPON AND PUT YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR.”

You sobbed in relief as Thane turned to who you recognized to be John Nolan, Bishop’s rookie.

“Put your weapon down and kick it over to me.”

Thane followed his instructions, smart enough to know that he was cornered.

You held Tim’s face, “It’s gonna be okay baby. They’re here, just like you said they would be.”

Tim had been unconscious when you said that, finally succumbing to the pain.

“Officer Blake?”

You jumped at the call of your name, being pulled from your memories as you looked up to see the three rookies. Jackson was the one to address you.

“You don’t have to call me that anymore Officer West…”

He nodded and swallowed, “Right we’re out of uni-”

“No, I quit… I’m not an officer anymore.”

The rookies’ eyes widened and they shared a look when your eyes moved to Tim.

“But you’re great at your-”

You cut John off, bitterness in your tone, “If I was good at my job he wouldn’t be in this bed…”

You took a breath, finally letting yourself touch him and grabbing Tim’s hand. “I should have been stronger…”

“Thane’s a psychopath, who knows what situation we would be in had you held out longer,” Lucy tried, watching your glass eyes as they looked over Tim. “That doesn’t make you a bad cop…”

“I don’t trust myself… and being a good team requires trust. I can’t go back out onto the street if I do not trust myself, that’s how people get hurt.”

You shook your head, letting it fall between your shoulders. “It took just a little guidance and I plunged a knife into the man I love…”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

#vinny's whumptober #vinny's rainy day records #whumptober 2023 #whumptober day 6 #ailesswhumptober2023 #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #tim bradford whump #the rookie #whump #angst #sarahsmi13s

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sytortuga · 6 months

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"We'll be alright"

Sometimes I'd be great to know that everything is going to be alright...

#the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanart #young din djarin #ptsd #mando fanart #sw fanart #star wars fanart #traditional art #charcoal pencil #ailesswhumptober2023 #prompt 8: panic attacks

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tsubaki94 · 7 months

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11 Fainting

Ai-less whumptober

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sam manson #tucker foley #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday11 #fainting #catching #friends #Something wrong with Danny #Art #fanart #ink #promarkers

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limeskye · 7 months

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 7 months

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That's What Family is For (Part 2)

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.

Taglist: @zebralover, @itzagothamcitysiren, @roses-and-ricex, @blackpearl2324, @po55um, @missborntodiex, @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog, @an-ever-angry-bi, @rukia-uchiha-98, @shipsforlif3, @dumb-fawkin-bitch, @hyding-out-here, @555hikaii, @nik2blog, @thefictionalcharacterssimp, @venomsvl, @sugarysweetsandpainfulteeth, @your-friendly-neighborhood-al, @hellfire-fan-club

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questionableratatouille00 · 7 months

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ᴘᴀʀᴛʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ ʀᴏᴄᴋꜱᴛᴀʀ

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bucky hated Stark parties. He knew that. But how much is he able to take before he breaks?

Note: This is my submission for day three (sensory deprivation/overstimulation/isolation ) of @ailesswhumptober!

Warnings: Alcohol, drinking, cursing, descriptions of symptoms of being overstimulated.

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Bucky felt his breath get shorter as the loud music blasted through the Compound’s party area. He was technically an Avenger, which meant he was required to go to these stupid things.

God, he hated them. He hated the way the smell of alcohol flooded his nose and the way the loud music made his head hurt and the way the obnoxious lighting made his eyes sting and the way—

He took a deep breath. The collar of his suit felt too tight around his neck. He felt like he was suffocating, and like all eyes were on him, waiting for him to snap. He shifted his legs, trying to find a more comfortable way to stand. Then he shifted them again. Unable to find comfort in any way he stood, he found his irritation growing.

He desperately wanted to shut his eyes and go hide in the elevator, but he knew how strange he’d look, and his feet were planted in the floor anyway. He felt himself inhale a little every time a drunk person stumbled nearby. Stark’s parties were known to have…handsy people in attendance.

Bucky scowled as the overhead lights flashed again and again and again, only increasing his stress and headache. He eyed the room, unconsciously checking for threats. When he caught himself doing so, he bit his bottom lip, ashamed. He knew he was safe and that he was in the Avengers Compound. So why didn’t his brain?

He felt an overwhelming amount of shame as he realized how tight his metal fist was clenched. He surveyed the room yet again, this time in search of you. Where were you?

He looked for you for what felt like years, even though it only could’ve been seconds. His legs felt hollow, like straws. He wondered if he looked out to other people, which only added to his stress. Did he look fidgety? Or maybe too stiff? Was he swaying or rocking, or did he look frozen?

————————

You laughed as you took another sip of your drink, listening to Sharon’s story. Natasha laughed with you, also sipping on her own drink.

“Speaking of boyfriends,” you smile, “I have to go find Bucky.”

“Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him all night.” Natasha realized.

“I’m sure he’s around here somewhere. I’ll see you guys later, alright?” You shouted over the loud music, setting your drink down on the party-area-kitchen counter as you walked into the main area.

You looked around the crowd. People danced in clusters, and you quickly found Thor in the crowd, his large build and height setting him apart. His booming laugh was louder than the music, and you were about to walk over to him before you noticed the group of women he was talking to. Better leave him be, then, you thought as you grinned.

You spotted Steve, talking to Sam off on a balcony area. You began to walk towards them before you spotted your metal-armed boyfriend off in a corner. You studied his stance, his expression. He shifted uncomfortably every few seconds, like something was irritating him. He looked stressed, his face contorted in a pained expression, though it was clear he was trying to hide it. He maintained a neutral demeanor for the most part, but whenever he looked to the ground you could see his true expression.

You began to cross the dance floor, stepping past dancing couples and groups.

“Bucky?” You called over the aggressive beat of the song currently playing.

His gaze flicked to you, his jaw set and her stare hard.

“You okay?” You questioned, tilting your head.

“I’m fine.” His voice was short, snappy.

You took a step back, raising your hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay.”

A look of regret crossed his features as he opened his mouth to speak. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound like that.”

“I know. What’s going on?” You invited the conversation, hoping that he could at least try and express what was bothering him.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it. He did this a few times as his gaze shifted around the room, never staying on one thing for longer than half of a second. You noticed how tense he was, how rigid his stance was.

He rotated his neck a bunch, like he was trying to escape the collar of his suit.

“Hey, come with me.” You offered him a hand, and he took it gingerly.

You lead him to the hallway that connected with the rest of the Compound, the security robots not stopping you after they quickly took a facial scan. When you did this, you made sure to stay away from large clusters of people or the speakers and lights.

Stepping into the closest room you could find, which happened to be a conference room, you shut the door behind the two of you.

“Is that at least a bit better?” You kept your voice quiet. He nodded, running his right hand over his face. You grabbed an unopened water bottle off of the little counter in the corner of the room, handing it to him. “Drink some of that.”

He did as he sat down in one of the office chairs. You knew the serum dialed his senses to like, eleven, but you didn’t know how bad it could get.

You waited in silence for a little while, not wanting to make the situation worse.

“I’m sorry.” He said after a while.

“For what?” You asked genuinely.

“For snapping at you. And then making you leave the party. And then..this.” He gestured around vaguely.

“Buck, I don’t care about the stupid party. You matter much more to me than some rager.” You smiled. “I don’t really care for them that much, anyway. I could have cocktails with Nat and Sharon and whoever else whenever. I’d rather be here, making sure you’re alright.” You reassure.

He smiles softly, and his eyes tell you what he’s thinking: I love you.

“Wanna head up to our room? My feet are killing me.” You suggested.

He nodded. “Yeah. C’mon, I’ll carry you.”

“Nuh-uh.” You grinned.

“Uh-huh.” He got up from his seat, and you squealed as you tried to get away. The laughter emanated from the two of you echoed as you raced down the halls.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #ailesswhumptober2023 #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #mcu #marvel #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you

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chiefdirector · 6 months

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Reunion | Thomas Thorne | BBC Ghosts

no.23: Forced to watch (I took this quite liberally)

There was many quirks to being dead. There was the fact that you could walk through walls but could be seated on furniture. Or the fact that nobody with a pulse could see you but sometimes, if you were lucky, you were gifted with an extra ability. The one that plagued (Y/N) the most though was the face that she could not leave the grounds of which she died upon.

She had died in Button house, or as it was known then Higham House, when on a visit with her husband, she had suddenly take ill. He husband had gone to fetch for a doctor but by the time he had returned with help, she had already passed. Her first memory of being dead was watching her husband weep over her still warm body.

It had not taken long for the other spirited residents of the house to learn of their new peer. Mary and Kitty tried to console her, especially when (Y/N) saw Humphrey’s detached head. Robin simply observed her for a while. But even as she, rather quickly, made peace with her untimely demise, there was a feeling that she couldn’t shake.

The feeling grew stronger and stronger as the days passed, until eventually she found herself walking into the main parlour room of the house where she was greeted by a crowd observing an argument.

Instantly she recognised the voices. One belonging to her husband’s ghastly cousin, Francis Button. He was a vile man, and not one she could tolerate for very long. Despite the many times he had tried to worm his way into her life , she always dreaded his visits. The last she saw him was in the day she died, where he had offered her tea; being free of him was one of the few things she welcomed in death.

Stood across from him was her husband. Standing tall and proud, Thomas rebutted something Francis had said. (Y/N) wasn’t quite sure. But she didn’t mind. She had not seen Thomas since he had found her still body upstairs.

(Y/N) heard ringing in her ears as the minutes seemed to pass like seconds. She couldn’t make out what anyone was saying. Instead she just followed the crowds as they made their was outside.

She stood, frozen in place as Thomas and Francis stood opposite to one another. She wanted to turn away but her legs felt stuck. The speed of what happened was to fast to comprehend. One second they were back to back, ready to duel and then next had a bullet launched into Thomas’ side.

(Y/N) rushed down to his crumpled form, reaching a hand out to only have it go through her chest. She closed her eyes, trying to get the image of him bloody from her mind. “Oh Thomas, my love.” She cried out, despite having nobody to hear.

“My darling flower?”

(Y/N) whipped her head up to the voice. Beside the corpse of her husband stood his spirit. He looked shaken, understandably so. “Thomas.”

“You’re dead. You died… how are you here?” Thomas said, frantically looking around before his eyes made contact with the corpse on the ground. “Oh.”

“I can explain everything.”

“No need,” Thomas looked back at his wife with a melancholy smile. “I have you again, darling. The rest will come as it may.”

Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist

@ailesswhumptober

#thomas thorne #thomas thorne x reader #Thomas Thorne imagine #matthew baynton #ghosts #bbc ghosts #chiefdirector #ailesswhumptober2023

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writeroutoftime · 7 months

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whumptomber day 1 - poisoned

pairing: tommy shelby x reader

summary: based on @ailesswhumptober's day 1 prompt, poisoned

warnings: mentions of character being poisoned; angst!

words: 0.5k

a/n: so here it is, my first day of my october challenge and my first whumptober story! please enjoy, let me know what you think, and have a fabulous day!!

oOoOo

You had sipped dozens upon dozens of flutes of champagne as Tommy’s wife since his political career had taken off. This particularly flute tasted no different as you took more than a sip to try and ease the discomfort you felt being around all the glitz and glam. No matter how long the two of you had been married and around these people you never felt at home here like you did on Watery Lane.

Glancing across the room, you noticed Tommy’s mask started to slip as he began to grow bored with the politicians he spoke with. Throwing back the last of your champagne, you glided towards your husband, subtly dabbing at your face, feeling how warm your cheeks were. Sweetly, you pushed your way into their circle and tapped Tommy on his shoulder.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. Do you mind if I steal my husband for a dance?” you asked coyly, thanking them when they nodded their heads and turned back to their whiskey.

Tommy guided you to the middle of the other dancing couples, a smug smirk on his as his hand rested on his hand rested on your waist. “Thank you for that, Mrs. Shelby.” he teased.

“Why of course. It’s what I do best, Mr. Shelby.”

The two of you swayed to the music, letting a comfortable silence wash over you. It felt nice to just be with Tommy, pretending it was just a simple night with the gramophone playing in the background.

Tommy spun you around, and you felt a strange rush of sickness run through you. In an effort to grip you upright, your grip on Tommy tightened. It felt harder to think straight and stay on your feet and you could vaguely sense the way that Tommy shifted to hold more of your weight.

“Hey, what’s going on?” he whispered, eyes shining with worry as he looked down at you.

“I-I don’t, I don’t feel well.” you spoke weakly just as your eyes rolled towards the back of your head and your body went limp in Tommy’s arms.

“y/n!” he shouted, sinking to the floor, cradling you in his arms, desperately scanning your form to see if there was a cut, a bullet wound, anything that would explain your sudden collapse.

There were screams and shouts throughout the room as the party came to a complete halt. Tommy thought he heard someone shout to call for the authorities, but his ears felt as though they were stuffed with cotton. His heart stopped beating for a moment the second he saw you begin to foam at the mouth and convulse in his grip - poison. He clutched you harder against his body, burying his face in your neck praying to anyone who would listen to spare you.

Tommy knew it was hopeless. He knew it was next to impossible that you would walk out of that door with him, but he tried anyway. “Please don’t leave. You can’t leave me too.” he muttered, growing more and more desperate as he felt your body fall slack, succumbing to its fate.

And once again, Thomas Shelby was left alone.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #rita writes

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aprocessionofthoughts · 6 months

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Calling All Bats

ai-less whumptober 2023 day 26- came back wrong fandom- dp x dc TW- none summary- Jason starts looking for Danny

ao3 ailesswhumptober23 masterlist part 5 of DLM

Danny found himself pleasantly relaxing with this strange liminal. Which he figured was why Gotham had directed him to that apartment. He had been surprised when he reached Gotham’s border and immediately felt the city’s presence. He had never encountered a living city before even though he knew they were possible. He had hesitated at first, not wanting to intrude on what felt like a haunt. But Gotham had assured him with feelings of temporary protection, she couldn’t do much. She was too weak from constantly being surrounded by corrupted ectoplasm from all the disasters. But she could offer temporary asylum and let Danny know when the GIW entered Gotham’s border.

Of course Danny hadn’t known that Gotham would be sneaky and direct him to a liminal’s apartment. Danny had not expected a liminal to come in, usually he could sense a haunt, but with Gotham as contaminated as she was, he figured the criminal's presence was hidden. It was also probably because Jason’s ectoplasm was also corrupted.

He wished he could have stayed longer in that apartment. He might have even been able to help Jason. But when Gotham whispered to him that the GIW had come, Danny knew he had to leave before the agents found Jason. Hopefully Gotham’s corrupt ectoplasm would help hide Jason. It might even make it more difficult for the agents to track him down as well.

But he couldn’t risk it. He wasn’t sure where he’d go next. At least he had gotten his bandages changed and eaten a few cookies.

-------------------

Jason didn’t know what to do. The kid was just gone.

How was he supposed to look for him? Where even did he go?

And these GIW agents or whatever were clearly after him. Jason wasn’t about to abandon the kid.

Leaving behind his hot chocolate and cookies he walked over to his room and put his uniform back on.

The kid was like him. They both came back wrong. Jason grimaced. He’d always described himself as coming back wrong, but thinking about the kid like that was wrong. The kid was fine. Who cared if he’d died before. And maybe, Jason wasn’t messed up either? Danny acted like all this was normal. And maybe it was.

Whatever. Existential thought could wait till after he’d found Danny and beat the GIW to a pulp.

He left through his window and made his way up to the roof. He paused. He wouldn’t be able to search the whole city by himself.

That meant he’d have to call in reinforcements.

Ugh. What a pain.

He activates his comm. “Hey, Oracle. Anyone out tonight?”

“Hood, I thought you were ending your patrol early today?”

“I did. Then I found something. I need anyone out to help me out with the situation.”

“Red Robin’s out right now, but Nightwing is still suited up if you need him too.”

“Go ahead and patch them both to my comm.”

“Will do.”

A moment later Dick’s voice came through. “What’s up, Hood?”

“I need your help looking for someone.” Jason said, grappling over to the next roof. “Who are you looking for?” Tim asked.

Jason hesitated before answering, “He’s a kid about fourteen or fifteen, he’s some kind of meta. I was talking with him and he just disappeared. But he mentioned he has government agents trying to hunt him down to experiment on him.”

“What’s he look like?” Dick asked, voice serious.

Jason paused before getting it over with. “He was wearing jeans and had a black hoodie on. And he has black hair and blue eyes.”

There was silence for a moment before Dick started cackling. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know this is serious, but really Little Wing? You’ve found us a new brother?”

“Shut up. We need to start looking for him.”

“Of course.” Dick said, sounding serious, but Jason could tell that the man was still smiling.

“Do you know what agency is after him?” Tim asked.

“A group called the GIW. I don't know anything else.”

“I’ll look into them. I’ve also got my systems looking for any black haired, blue eyed kids.” Babs said.

“We’ll find him, Hood.” Dick said.

Jason hoped so.

#ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptober #day 26 #came back wrong #jason is liminal #Jason todd #Danny fenton #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #fanfic

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hyperfixat · 7 months

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AI LESS WHUMPTOBER DAY FOUR HIDING AN INJURY

support and engagement would really motivate me to help post and work on the rest of this stuff!

(@ailesswhumptober)

You desperately want to fit in with your demonic housemates, but it’s so hard sometimes. They’re so fast and strong, and all in all so much more capable than you… at times it’s embarrassing, or humiliating, but they don’t even have to show it off for you to notice everything they’re doing you could never dream of.

It is no secret that demons are more physically capable than humans, in terms of speed and strength, and everything important. You can’t resent them for this, they can’t control their anatomy, but it doesn’t stop you from resenting yourself.

If only you could run a little faster, jump a little higher, last a little longer. Being left behind, tears a hole into your heart, the fear of being forgotten, even worse, abandoned, drives you to push your limits.

Even when you’ve solidified a place in the family of the Avatars, anxiety still nags at you to push, push, push.

This is far from the first time you’ve injured yourself trying to keep up with the demons, and you’re fairly certain it won’t be the last. You ran a little too far, with strides too big for your body to handle and you damn near heard something tear.

Luckily, a couple steps after the injury, they were done dashing across campus. You walk inside RAD in line with them, suppressing winces and attempting to fix the limp your body begs to have.

“MC.” Lucifer’s voice calls to you as he approaches from the other end of the hall. The brothers around you quiet down and watch.

“Lucifer.” You stare back.

“Come with me, I need to talk with you. Privately.”

You hide your hobble as you take stride behind the demon and he pulls you into an empty classroom. Your leg aches at the impact of stumbling into the room, and Lucifer’s face twitches as you attempt to mask the pain.

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Of course, why do you ask?” You strain to keep your voice light and unbothered.

“You are injured. Do not lie.”

Damn him.

Huffing out your frustration you roll your eyes, “I’ll be fine. It’s nothing to worry about. Thank you for your-.”

The flippant way you attempt to dismiss his concern frustrates him. Lucifer’s eyes flash, light making the red look like lasers.

“If you do not tell me where you are injured we will do this my way. I will find out what is ailing you.” For a moment you wish to indulge him in that, see what his way is.

Lucifer holds another standoff (stare off) with you before you break.

“My ankle hurts.” You grumble the phrase, averting eye content.

“Good human,” Lucifer says way too casually. It makes your heart leap. Before you know it he’s kneeling in front of you. “This one?” he hovers his hands above your injured ankle. When you nod, he tugs your pant leg up and cuffs it.

Lucifer hums thoughtfully as he gently pulls your sock down and examines the bare skin of your ankle. It’s slightly reddened, darkened, due to the extra blood flow. Using his teeth, Lucifer tugs off his leather glove on his dominant hand and presses it to your bare skin. A light flow of magic and your ankle is good as new.

“Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.” He really didn’t, you’ve managed just fine without him thus far.

“Nonsense. Now, tell me, how did you come to obtain such an injury?”

Embarrassment leads you to lie. “I don’t know.”

“Lying again? I thought you were better than this, MC.” Disappointment from Lucifer hurts, but doesn’t thaw the embarrassment.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t go trying to run away.” Lucifer manages to stop you before you can even begin to flee back to his brothers with a firm hand on your hip.

Stubbornly refusing to talk to him, you avert your eyes and focus on a point just beyond Lucifer’s head.

“MC.” He scolds yet again. “We can stay here all day, little star.”

When you still do not relent, Lucifer moves his head into your line of sight.

“Your brothers are a bit faster than me, and I tripped over myself while keeping up to them. No big deal, Lucifer. Leave this alone.” Though you know saying such is futile, you cannot stop the words.

“Why wouldn’t you say something?” His eyes narrow. “I’ll need to have a talk with them. Don’t let this happen again.”

You let it happen again.

Well, almost.

Just before you go falling down into the harsh Devildom concrete a pair of hands wrap around your waist and settle your still dangling body into their hip bones. You look up and see Lucifer staring down at you, a single brow raised.

Your face heats, but neither of you say anything, and Lucifer’s stride doesn’t falter as he follows along his brothers.

#verified hyperfixat post #obey me #obey me x reader #obey me shall we date #obey me x mc #ailesswhumptober #ailesswhumptober2023 #ailesswhumptoberday4 #ailesswhumptoberhidinganinjury #ai less whumptober #ai less whumptober 2023 #lucifer x reader #om lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer x mc #lucifer obey me #obey me lucifer x reader

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ohtobeleah · 7 months

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Dark Red // Jake Seresin

Summary: Jake Seresin is usually pretty cool, carm and cock sure of himself. But when his wife has an accident? He hits the deck pretty hard.

Warnings: Character death. Mentions of car accidents. Fainting. Jake Seresin x F!reader.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author Note: Day Eleven of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: ‘Fainting.’ Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

It was enough to shake you that was for sure. The sheer force of the car behind you that had run right up the back of you and sent your bonnet into the back of the car in front of you, practically sandwiching you in, was enough to rattle you.

It was enough to have the airbag deploying in your face, breaking your nose that would surely leave two very black and swollen eyes from the sinus pressure. It was enough to shatter the glass of your front and back windscreens like they were paper thin. The forces had crumbled the aluminum of your 1999 Ford Festiva with ease. Like a paper bag being trot on. The same car Jake was adamant that you finally upgrade from. The same care that you were so attached to.

Guess there wouldn’t be any love lost when Jake found out that your beloved Festiva was totally gone. She was to put it simply—unsalvageable. But at least you were able to walk away relatively unscathed.

“Would you like us to give your emergency contact a call?” Jake Seresin had been your best friend for just over ten years. The two of you had only just recently gotten married after dating for eight of those. There had never really been any real rush to put pen to paper and make all the legal arrangements and challenges. You were pretty content in the role you played in Jake's life. But when his career started to see him in more life threatening situations, he started to wonder what exactly he’d be leaving you behind with. It made sense on paper to get married and it made even more sense to share the Seresin name with the six month old fetus kicking it in utero. Little Baby Seresin.

“My husband’s at work—“ You sighed to the woman checking on your little boy's heart, strong and stable. No signs of distress from his end which was the best possible outcome. “You can probably just clean me up and send me on my way.”

“Hmm—“ Although there were no obvious signs, Linda Masters thought it would be in your best interests to stay overnight for observations. She was waiting to hear back from your OB. “I’d rather keep you in overnight, just to make sure baby doesn’t decide to change his mind.”

“Okay, but when you get someone to call, just make sure you let him know that we’re fine.” You were really insistent on that, you knew how Jake could get when it came to you. For someone who was usually so cool, calm and cock sure of himself, he could get a little flustered to say the very least whenever something involved you. “He doesn’t need to leave work, but he can definitely swing by with an overnight bag afterwards.”

“Oh boy.” You knew that voice from a mile away. “Seresins ganna go into cardiac arrest when he finds out that little miss is sitting in my Emergency Room.” Doctor Benjamin Ocka or more affectionately known by the Daggers as, Doc Ock, cooed as he came up to your bedside. “I was called for a consult?” He addressed the technician who was just packing away her ultrasound machine.

“Y/n Seresin, six months pregnant, sustained a broken nose and possibly sinus damage from her airbag. There doesn’t seem to be any other major injuries, just a couple of bumps and bruises.”

Ben chuckled as he assessed your nose, ears, eyes and mouth. Your bloodied nose was huge, swollen as swollen could be. He knew immediately that you were gonna be on bed rest for a few days. Especially when it came to the part in the healing process where your sinuses would swell so much that you wouldn’t be able to see.

“I’ll call Hangman shall I?” He sighed as he placed his little light into the top pocket of his doctor’s jacket and sat beside you. “Bubs okay?”

“Perfectly fine, we’re staying for a sleepover just to be sure.”

“I’m probably gonna need to readjust your nose.” He frowned softly as he kept assessing your face. “Little bit of surgery but we can discuss that once the swelling goes away—if you can breathe and can deal with a crooked nose for a small period of time I might like to hold off on non essential plastic surgery till after Baby Seresins here.”

Ben was Payback's husband. He was as charming and as a part of your little group as any of the spouses and all Roosters girlfriends were. He cared about the people who took care of his husband in the sky and made sure he got to come home every night.

“Sounds good, but yes—please, call Jake and let him know we’re fine.” You pleaded. “Lead with they're totally fine, if anything this is just a courtesy call from your wife to say that it’s take out for dinner.”

“He’s gonna flip out Y/n.” That was your moment of defeat. You sighed into the pillow of your emergency room bed and let your head lull to the side as you placed two very protective hands across your belly.

“I know.” You grumbled. “I know he is and he’s gonna be so happy about that damn Festiva too.”

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

Jake only wore a Garmin watch when he was on the ground because it was connected to his phone. He only wore a Garmin watch so that if someone called him during the day, all he had to do was look at his wrist and decide if the call was worth taking on the clock.

Jake only wore a Garmin watch for moments like these, where he sat in the middle of a debriefing on this afternoon's drills and saw Payback's husband's affectionate caller ID, ‘Benny Boy’ flash up on the screen.

“I gotta go.” Jake knew deep down Ben wouldn’t call like this if it wasn’t an emergency. “I’ll be right back.” Jake stood so fast that the feet of his chair made a high pitched squeak against the smooth concrete floor. All eyes were on him, colleagues and instructors alike as he rushed out of the hangar and fished his phone, which had been on silent, out of his pocket.

His heart nearly stopped inside his chest when his body and mind immediately knew what to ask as his thumb swiped over the screen of his phone before he held it up to his ear. Shaking, Jake knew that it had to be about you—why else would Ben be calling in the middle of the day when they were both on shift?

“What happened? Is she okay?” It took all the breath out of Jake's lungs when he spoke. He never wanted to get this call. If anyone ever asked him about his biggest fear in life, he wouldn’t say dying in a dog fight or crashing into the pacific. No. He’d say losing the love of his life. “Ben?”

“Hey man.” Ben tried to be as calm as he could be because really, you were fine. There was no cause for concern, just a broken nose. “Y/n had an accident, not her fault, distracted driver situation.” Jake felt like his entire world was crumbling around him as he took panic filled strides towards the locker room. “She’s fine, her nose is busted pretty good but other than that her and the baby are—“ There's a very loud, very audible thud on the other end of the line as Ben checks your lab reports at the nurses station. “Hello?” He questioned with concern laced in his tone. “Hangman? You there?” Ben knows he’s not. “Fuck—“

Meanwhile, on the floor of the locker room, laid Jake Seresin. Completely out cold and unresponsive as his teammates sat in their debriefing wondering what the hell had gotten into the newlywed man they all loved to hate and hated to love.

Jake had smacked his head on the corner of the long metal seat that ran down the middle of the locker hall. He was face down, bleeding pretty bad and had his cheek squished so hard into the grate on the floor it was gonna leave a mark when he peeled himself up. Like those parks you get when you have a killer nap.

The crimson red that pooled on the tiles was thick and spread thin into the grooves of the tiles. It crept its way across the locker room floor like vines. Jake was under, but even in his unconscious state you were the only thing on his mind. You smile, your infectious laugh, the way you looked carrying his son, so swollen and perfect. His wife. The love of his life.

“Can someone go get Seresin?” Mav sighed as he held the bridge of his nose behind the podium. “Rooster, go drag him back here before I send him up there blind.” Everyone knew it was an empty threat, but regardless, Bradley stood to his feet with an exaggerated sigh and headed down the hall in the direction of where he thought his wingman had gone.

Bradley wasn’t expecting to walk into the locker room and see what he saw. He was just trying to make sure Jake didn’t get torn to shreds for ditching during the debriefing. But to his shock horror—as he rounded the corner into the locker room, his heart jumped out of his chest at the sight of his wingman lying face down on the grime covered tiles. There was probably dirt caked into the grouting from when his dad roamed these halls.

“Holy crap—“ It was the first thing out of Bradleys mouth as he made his way over in a hurry. “Hangman?” The way Bradley said his wingman’s callsign was laced in pure panic. “Jake man, you okay?” Rooster shook Jake's shoulder gently at first—but when the six foot something blonde didn’t stir, he shook him a little harder. “Hangman! Wake up man, c’mon open your eyes.”

“Mmhph—“ It wasn’t a word, but a sound, and Bradley was happy with that as he rolled Jake over onto his side to start with.

“Jake you’re bleeding.” It was everywhere. Bradley looked around frantically to try and find what may have been the cause of such a head wound. But when his eyes locked onto the corner of the cold, old metal bench—he knew immediately. “Don’t move alright.”

“Y/n—“ Jake grumbled as he tried to sit up. “My wife.” It was pure need and adrenaline that coursed through Jake Seresins veins the second he’d come to. “I need to get to Y/n—“

“Woah, take it easy Hangman.” Bradley tried to steady Jake as he tried to stand. “You hit your head pretty hard on the bench, we should probably get you to medical?”

“Hospital—“ Was all Jake groaned as he stood, Rooster watched in horror as the blood gushed from Jake’s gash. It looked deep and angry, like he’d been cut almost through his skull. “I need to get to the hospital.” Bradley can’t keep up to save his soul. “Y/n—“ As Jake stands to his very unsteady feet, he mumbled your name over and over as his fingertips reach up to touch the crimson red dripping down his face. “Oh fuck my head.”

“I’ll take you to the hospital if you can remember what happened?” It’s the only way Rooster can think of putting two and two together. Why did Jake need to get to the hospital to see you? And why was he passed out of the floor of the locker room? “Jake? Why’s Y/n at the hospital?” It’s a question laced in as much concern as it is dread. You’re not due yet, what if something happened to the baby and that’s what caused Jake to break? “Is she alright? Is baby Seresin alright?”

The silence that lingered as Jake stumbled his way over towards the door had Rooster's heart caught up in his throat. He knew how much Jake loved you and his unborn child. He knew that the man with the bloodied forehead and the sure fire concussion would move mountains and part seas just to kiss a paper cut on your fingertip. So when Jake stopped in his tracks, swayed side to side as if he was going down again, Bradley knew something had happened that completely rocked Jake Seresins world.

“They were in an accident—“

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

It was the way Jake came racing into the emergency room that worried you the most. He slammed right in for the doorframe like he either didn’t see it or like he’d been running a million miles and hour to get to you.

You hadn’t yet been moved from the emergency short stay area into one of the wards, which you were thankful for the second Ben spotted Jake stumbling towards you with a head laceration.

“Oh my god, what the hell happened?” You asked Rooster as he rushed in after Jake. He knew he was about to cop an earful. “Bradshaw, why is my husband bleeding?” You barely got to ask before Jake was at your side.

“He fainted when he got the call you were in hospital.” Rooster explained softly as he pulled up a chair for Jake to sit beside you in . “Here you, sit down man before the room starts spinning.” Bradley ushered Jake to sit as he reached out for your hands. “You and bubs alright? What happened?”

“We’re fine.” You tried to explain. “Nose is pretty sore but we’re fine.”

“Baby I swear I can’t ever lose you.” Jake began as he sat as close to your bedside as he could. It was the sweetest thing, although you suspected it was all coming from the concussion you knew your husband definitely had. “You or bubs.” Jake placed a gentle hand across your stomach. “My heart nearly burst out of my chest when I got the call.”

“I should probably take a look at that—“ Ben interrupted as he sent you a shy, all knowing smile. “Hit the hard deck, did you Seresin?” Ben chuckled to himself as he gave Jake's head the once over. “I specifically remember telling you that your wife was fine.”

“‘M’panicked, can’t lose her boss.” Jake replied softly as his eyes never left you, it pained him to see you like this. Bloodied and bruised, but alive. “I think I hit my head though.”

“He smacked it pretty hard on the corner of the metal bench in the locker room.” Bradkey added as Ben started to clean out the head wound at your bedside, he knew there was no point asking Jake to move when the answer was going to be a hard no.

“I’ll order a tetanus shot because that thing is grotesque and get some antibiotics sorted.” Ben stated as he worked, Jake however—he never took his eyes off you.

“Did you really pass out when you were told I was in an accident?”

“Can’t lose you.” Was all your husband mumbled against your hand as he kissed your palm. “Can’t lose you, won’t lose you or baby Seresin.”

“We aren’t going anywhere, love.” You sweetly replied as you reached out to caress Jake's chin. “I promise.”

“My head really hurts.” He whispers softly as you chuckled to yourself. “Gotta work on my landing huh?”

“Yeah bubba.” You sighed. “I need you around for the long hall.” As you gently stroked your husband’s chin you saw his eyes begin to roll as he swayed to the left. Jake's entire body stiffened as he lost all sense of direction, his surroundings were gone in the blink of an eye as he began to seize uncontrollably.

“Woah! Hey! HEY I NEED SOME HELP OVER HERE!” Ben shouted as you watched on in helpless horror as he went with Jake to the ground. Placing him in the recovery position. “LETS GET HIM BACK PEOPLE!”

“Rooster, what's happening?” You sobbed behind your hands as tears poured down your face. “Jake?” It was the last thing you remembered before everything went cold and dark. The last thing you remembered seeing when you woke not a few moments later, was your husband and father of your child—hemorrhaging before you.

All because he bumped his head.

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

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

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #Jake Seresin whump #jake seresin x female!reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman fic #tw: whump #tw: death

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sarahsmi13s · 6 months

Text

Mama's Don't Get Sick Days

whumptober day 18: fever / vomiting / warm soup

pairing: mickey 'fanboy' garcia x reader

characters: mickey garcia, wife!reader, genevieve garcia, jayda garcia, sebastian garcia

warnings: 18+ MDNI, language, vomiting, mickey is a dad, parenting while sick, fever, neglecting health, please let me know if I missed any

word count: ~ 2.1k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: when your a spouse and a parent, sometimes you forget that you can be taken care of as well

You sighed as you sat on the couch. Your head was pounding and your stomach was churning with the whole lot of nothing that was in it.

Running around all morning with three kids, two of them under the age of 5 and one of them was just learning how to walk, was an absolute nightmare with how you were feeling.

Mickey had woken you up with a forehead kiss before going off to work and then your 6 and 4 year old woke you up a little while later with Genevieve crying because she was gonna be late for school.

So, with a splitting headache and sinus pressure, you got her dressed and fed her breakfast before getting all of your kids in the car and taking her to school.

The rest of the day was a blur of chasing Jayda and keeping her occupied and keeping little Sebastian out of things and things out of his mouth.

Jayda was 4 and pretty good at staying out of trouble, but she was still young and had an independent head on her shoulders – so asking for help was never really an option so you had to make sure she wasn’t climbing on things and getting stuck on the closet's top shelf.

Sebastian was 1 and just learning how to walk. So he was getting into anything he reached and if it was on the floor or the table it most likely was going in his mouth.

So, between keeping Jayda on the ground, Sebastian from eating something he shouldn’t, and you not puking every time you bent over or changed a diaper and going through tissues like you were watching the saddest scene 100 times, you were exhausted.

But you had to stay awake even if those two were napping, because you had to pick up Gen from school on time.

“Mama?” Gen asked from her bar stool as you make her after school snack of Goldfish, and her dried mangos that you forgot to pack that morning, and turkey cheese rolls.

You glanced over your shoulder, “What’s up Vieve?” “Are you feeling okay? You look like I feel when I’m feeling icky,” she said, sounding so sweet as she rested her head on the counter. “And I was almost late for school, you always have me up…” “I’m okay baby, just a little frazzled today,” you said before coughing into your arm.

Sniffling, you turned and put the paper plate in front of her, “I’m really sorry about this morning, I should’ve gotten up sooner.” Genevieve took a bite of her turkey cheese roll, “It’s okay I got to school on time.”

You gave her a gentle smile before kissing her head, “Did you have a good day?” She nodded, “I did, Jacie and I played…” You nodded along with her as she proceeded to tell you about her day, listening to her as you took some Cutie slices off of Jayda’s plate and Cheerios off of Sebastian’s tray.

At some point while she was talking you went to check her lunch box to see what she hadn’t eaten.

But as you opened it you were hit with a pungent reminder of what she had for lunch. Tuna and crackers, something her grandmother introduced her to during the last visit.

The smell churned your stomach that last time and anything you managed to actually eat was crawling up your throat.

Covering your mouth, you managed to make it to the downstairs bathroom before falling to your knees and puking in the toilet.

You rested your head on your arm, groaning miserably as you flushed the toilet before regaining your bearings and standing up.

With your head pounding, you wash your hands and swish your mouthwash before going back to the kitchen. “Hey, Jay, Vieve?” You said softly as you got Sebastian out of his high chair. “Yes Mama?” “I’m gonna go sit on the couch, Bash is gonna be in his playpen. Finish your snacks and then you can play okay?”

They both nodded before Genevieve stopped you with a hand on your arm as you walked by, “Are you not feeling well?” You sighed, “No, baby, I’m a little under the weather but don’t you worry, I’m gonna be okay.”

You gave her a gentle smile before going to the living room and putting Sebastian in his playpen. You sighed as you sat down. “Oh lordy… just a few more hours and he’ll be home and I can rest.”

As you curl up under a blanket and move the trash can closer to the couch, you rest your cold hands on your face to try and relieve the pressure in your nose.

You can make out Jayda and Genevieve arguing in the kitchen. “I can take the Sprite to Mama!” “Jay, you can’t reach them in the fridge! Get the crackers!” “I don’t wanna!”

“Girls! Please don’t yell,” you groaned a little from your spot on the couch. “Sorry Mama!”

You sighed and rubbed your head before you heard more loud noises coming from the kitchen and then a little, “Oopsie.”

“What happened?”

“Jayda tried to get a can of Sprite and dropped them…”

Taking a sharp inhale, you look up at the ceiling and let it out before looking at Sebastian, “I’ll be right back Bash. Mama has a mess to clean.” “No! I gots it, Mama! I’ll get a towel,” Jayda said as she ran to the laundry room.

“Okay,” you sighed, at this point it was useless to try and argue. You were tired, you could mop it up later.

“Here Mama, I got you some water,” Genevieve said softly as she brought you a cup. It was over flowing, and you were sure there was a trail of water behind her. But the thought was sweet. “Thank you baby.”

You sipped the water in your glass before sitting it down and leaning back.

“Mama! I brought you crackers!” Jayda shouted, running over with a sleeve of crackers.

You smiled a little, “Thank you Jay.” You reached for them but she held out a hand, “No, I’ll open it!” “Jayda, don’t yell! Mama has a headache!” “Vieve, you’re yelling,” you said gently. “Sorry Mama.”

You looked back to Jayda to see her struggling before ripping it open and spilling crackers on the carpet. “Oops…” She looked up at you and handed you what was left, “Here you go.” “Thank you hun.”

“Why don’t you both go play in your room, Gen. Daddy will be home soon and you can go outside.”

They nodded before running up the stairs.

You sighed and held your head in your hands before sliding to the floor and picking up the crackers and throwing them away.

But your position change made blood rush to your head and triggered your gag reflex. “Shit,” you muttered before gripping the edges of the trash can and just waiting for it. Apparently it was taking its time until you sat up because it all rushed up at once when you did.

Groaning into the trash can, you spat into it before getting up and going back into the bathroom to wash your mouth out again.

You came back into the living room to hear Sebastian crying.

“Oh Bash, Mama left you alone didn’t she. I’m sorry,” you said, picking him up and shushing him gently. “Oh I know baby boy, I’m sorry.”

It took you about 20 minutes of that before he fell asleep in your arms and you laid him down in his playpen.

“There you go, baby.” You sighed and laid down on the couch. “Just an hour, and Mickey will be home…” You cuddled up with a blanket and turned the TV on, “Just need to relax for a little bit.”

Mickey smiled as he walked in, “Hey, guess who’s home?” “Shhhh, Daddy, Mama’s sleeping,” Genevieve hissed from her spot on the carpet.

“Oh,” he winced. “Sorry sorry.”

He put his bag down gently before walking in, seeing tissues on nearly every surface from where you had blown your nose while you chased kids around the house. And then when he got to the living room he noticed the trash can next to the couch.

The girls were coloring in the living room, having come down to watch TV just before Mickey got home, and Sebastian was still napping.

He sighed and went over to you, glancing to see the vomit in the trash can. He knelt down, feeling the saltines break under his weight.

“Hey, baby?” Mickey gently shook your shoulder, putting the inside of his wrist to your forehead, “Shit… you’re burning up.” He patted your face, “Hey honey.”

You groaned a little as your eyes fluttered open, “Hey, Mick…”

“How long have you been like this?”

“What do you mean?”

He arched his brow, “Um, you’re cuddled up on the couch burning up and sweating like I do on the tarmac? Honey, have you felt icky all day?” He censored himself, remembering little ears were in ear shot.

“I um,” you said sniffling as you sat up. Mickey watched you close your eyes and groan as you steadied yourself and he frowned. “Sweetheart…” “I’m okay Mick, just a little-”

Your sentence got interrupted by a sudden rush of sick. “Trash can…” Mickey didn’t even question it and held the trash can up, holding your hair back with his free hand.

“I got you baby, I got ya.”

“Daddy? Is Mama okay?” Jayda asked, a little worry in her voice. “Yeah, Mama’s gonna be okay. She’s just not feeling well, but she’s okay.” Jayda nodded and quietly went back to coloring.

Once you’re done throwing up, Mickey helps you stand. “Girls, Mama and I will be right back, be good okay?” “Yes Daddy,” they both said as they continued to color.

Mickey helped you to the bathroom and sat you on the closed toilet as he looked for the thermometer. “Have you felt bad all day?” You opened your mouth but he spoke again. “And don’t lie to me.”

You sighed and nodded as he held the thermometer up and put it in your mouth.

“You’ve felt shitty all day?” You nodded again as the thermometer beeped and he took it out to look at it. “101.3, fuck, Honey. Why didn’t you call me? I would have come home. Mav would under-”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want to take you away from work.” “Screw work, you’re sick and you took care of three kids by yourself. Honey, you’re exhausted and you won’t get better if you don’t let yourself rest.”

You shook your head before groaning a little at the headache the action gave you, “Miguel, you can’t-” You blinked as you stopped mid sentence, your lips trembling as you felt sick again. Covering your mouth, you moved to the floor and lifted the lid to throw up in the toilet.

Mickey frowned, feeling awful for not being here today and leaving you to deal with the kids while you miserable. He squatted down and grabbed a ponytail holder, tying your hair back for you, “I’m calling Cyclone and Mav, I’m not going in tomorrow so I can take care of you and the kids.”

“I can’t ask you to do that… You love your job.”

He looked up at you, almost angry, “Not as much as I love you. And you’re not asking, that’s the reason I’m telling you that I’m not going in.”

You stayed quiet and just shook your head, trying not to get sick again, “I need to make dinner…” He shook his head right back, “You’re not serious, you’re actively trying not to throw up again. Y/N, you need to go lay down with a cold rag on your head. I’ll fix dinner for me and the kids and you get soup.”

You perked up a little, sitting up and looking at him, “Your abuela’s soup?”

He smiled and cupped your cheek, “If that’s what you want then that’s what I’ll make. But only if you take a break and let me baby you until you're better.” “But the kids-” “What did I say?”

You sighed, “Okay, okay fine.”

“Alright now, let’s get you on the couch and I will get any mess left by our girls.”

You nodded and let him take you back to the couch before he got you a cool, damp rag.

“There you go Honey,” he said, laying it across your forehead. “Thank you Mickey. I love you.” “I love you too.”

You smiled at him, “Go start dinner so I can have abuela’s soup, go go.” He chuckled, “Alright, alright.” He kissed the top of your head before going to the kitchen.

“Hey! Who spilled Sprite all over the floor?”

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