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whump-about-it · 1 year

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Sponge bath/ Infection/ “Lets get you cleaned up”

@whumpril day 22

CW: infections, passing out, mild hallucinations, fever.

The room seemed to be wavering around Whumpee. The floor kept shifting and tilting at odd angles, and the walls didn’t appear to be shifting with it. Instead they kept elongating and shrinking at random intervals. Whumpee couldn’t look at anything straight on or else the constant movement of the room was going to make them nauseous. When they tried to take a step they stumbled on the moving floor and had to grab onto the chair next to them to keep their knees from buckling.

Their mouth was dry, and their ears were beginning to ring. Whumpee tried to grip the chair harder to ground themselves. Get a control on their body and the shaking room. They knew they should know what was going on, but their brain was moving so sluggishly they couldn’t think of what had happened.

“Whumpee?” A voice broke through the ringing in Whumpee’s ears, and they could feel someone putting a hand on their shoulder. Whumpee turned towards the voice, and the hand, and managed to focus on Caretaker’s concerned face for a split second before it began to twist and contort like they were a painting someone was smudging over.

It was all to much for Whumpee’s brain, and their world quickly faded to grey, and then to black.

“Catch me” they slurred as their body went boneless. The last thing they remembered before they totally blacked out was Caretaker swearing as they tried to pull Whumpee into their arms before they hit the floor.

The next thing Whumpee remembered, they were coming to propped up in someone’s bed. Their head was screaming, and their skin itched and ached. They felt like a clay pot cracking and preparing to fall apart in desert heat. Even so, Whumpee could feel something wet and freezing being pressed to their neck, just below their ear. The feeling disappeared but quickly came back an inch or so away. The sudden cold on their hot and aching skin made Whumpee wince even as their brain told them to stay still.

“It’s just me” Caretaker murmured from somewhere very close to Whumpee. They continued to dab Whumpee’s neck with what they could now distinguish as a sponge for a minute until Whumpee managed enough control over themselves to crack their eyes open.

They were in Caretaker’s room. The lights were out and the curtains were drawn only allowing dim sunlight to filter through. The room was spinning, but it at least was staying proportional now. And Caretaker’s face, mere inches from their own, was only contorting in the usual ways.

Caretaker leaned away when they saw Whumpee’s eyes open and dipped the sponge in a bowl of water sitting on the bedside table. They rang it out and began to dab at the other side of Whumpee’s neck making them wince again. Caretaker’s face was a mixture of concern and displeasure and Whumpee tried not to stare at them and they continued to wipe the sweat off of their face and neck.

“Is this your shirt?” They asked in a raspy voice after a moment. They had just noticed they weren’t in the same clothing they had been in when they passed out.

“You sweat through your own” Caretaker told Whumpee in way of a response. “The cut on your arm has a nasty infection.”

Whumpee glanced guiltily down at their left forearm. It was splayed out next to them on a seperate pillow. Caretaker had removed the bandage, but there was a warm compress over the deep cut Whumpee had been trying to hide.

Right. That’s what had happened. They hadn’t told Caretaker about the injury. They didn’t want them to worry. The infection hadn’t been that bad the last time they had changed the bandage. They had cleaned out the puss and made sure to dry the wound before putting on a new bandage. Had they applied the antiseptic? They couldn’t remember.

“Are you going to give me a lecture?” They rasped, glancing back at Caretaker, who surprisingly gave them a half smile.

“Eventually” They said fondly “When your fever breaks. I want to make sure you remember it.”

Whumpee nodded and instantly regret the movement. They squeezed their eyes shut against the room that was beginning to spin again. Caretaker continued to brush the sponge down Whumpee’s arm while they stroked Whumpee’s sweaty head with their other hand, gently encouraging them to take deep breathes until Whumpee didn’t think they were going to pass out again.

“I’m sorry” Whumpee rasped when they opened their eyes again “I should have told you about the cut.”

“I told you, I’m saving the lecture for later.” Caretaker said. “For now lets get you cleaned up, and then I’m tracking down some antibiotics.”

“Okay” Whumpee mumbled. They shut their eyes again and held as still as they could as Caretaker finished wiping them down with cool water and began to dress their wound, properly this time.

#whump #whumblr #whumpril2023 #whumprilday22 #sponge bath #infection #lets get you cleaned up #fever #passing out #hallucinations #hiding injuries #whumpee x caretaker #caretaker

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crash-bump-bring-the-whump · 2 months

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Whumpril 2024 - Day 22 - Stoicism Breaks

I've been threatening to send Mariano to therapy so here we ARE! I reference a little RP I had with @comfy-whumpee that's been swirling in my brain ever since we did it c:<

TWs: self harm mention, suicide mention, anxiety mention, talk of a shooting, talk of captivity, this is real cathartic though I promise it's not bad

Ex-military, spent most of his twenties in foreign federal prison, history of anxiety, suicidal ideation, and self-harm. Stoic, highly traumatized, closed off, slow to open up. Hesitant to talk about intense experiences, needs reassurance. Overly concerned with others' needs.

Mary Barlowe looked over her notes before walking into the latest session with Mariano Cross. He wasn't her most difficult patient to talk to, not by a long shot. She never had to worry about calling security, or convincing him to leave when time was up. He was polite, punctual, and friendly.

But he was challenging in his own way.

He'd had a full decade of people telling him that he was an irredeemable monster, and he'd taken it all very seriously. Discussing anything heavier than everyday troubles was approached with the same caution that stray dogs approached an outstretched hand. He barely seemed to have even a basic connection to his own body or emotions, sounding detached whenever he spoke about them. They were things he needed help with, of course, but it was clear that there were things buried deeper than that.

The small, quick smile he gave her when she entered was a fantastic sign. "Good afternoon, Doctor Barlowe." He was already seated, back straight, both feet flat on the floor, and careful hands folded and resting on his leg.

"Good afternoon, Mariano." She returned the greeting easily, taking her own seat in the comfortable chair opposite his. "You mentioned wanting to talk about something difficult today, did something happen?" She knew the answer to that. He'd missed a few sessions due to being hospitalized from a robbery gone wrong.

He hesitated, dark eyes darting to the table between them. "Yes. I...there was something that happened." He seemed to close in on himself, just so, hands still clasped firmly together. She could feel the tension that crept into his voice. "But I understand if we can't."

There it was, the familiar beginning of withdrawal. "Why wouldn't we be able to talk about it?" She leaned forward, a small smile on her face. She kept her features soft, her posture relaxed. "You're paying to have a space to talk about the difficult things."

"I am, yes." He trailed off, not quite meeting her eye yet. "But it was...graphic. I don't want to overstep. I've accidentally done that before, and I...I don't want to find a new therapist. I like you."

"Oh?" Mary's voice softened. "Mariano, let me reassure you: You are not the first former prisoner I've worked with, or the first soldier. If I need a moment after hearing something then I'll let you know, but you're not going to destroy me by just talking.

"You deserve to feel safe enough to say what's on your mind. I'm sure it gets heavy holding it in, doesn't it?" She saw something in his jaw tense, the hold he had on his own hand growing tighter.

Mariano swallowed, nodding, eyes on the tissue box between them. "...It does. I have dreams about it sometimes."

"I'd imagine so." She said. "What happens in those dreams?"

When Mariano spoke again, his voice was barely louder than a whisper. "I can't call for help after I'm shot, and I wind up dying." He took a deeper breath, the sound just barely trembling. "It always feels...very realistic."

"Were you alone when it happened?" Mariano didn't move. His eyes never left the tissue box. "Mariano?" She had a feeling that he wasn't thinking about whether or not he needed a tissue.

He looked up at her, tension tight around his eyes, jaw set, and shoulders curled in on himself. "I...I don't want to hurt you."

"Have you hurt someone by talking about this before?" She spoke to him like he was backed into a corner, cowering away. He was, in a sense. It was like he was waiting for her to snap at him.

Mariano nodded.

"Can you tell me about it?"

Mariano hesitated, his grip shifting to his own elbows. He looked even smaller in the soft, pale green chair. "One of my friends asked me what happened, and why people weren't applying to the ad we put out for more managers. I said that I got shot during a robbery and almost died, and that it had gotten publicized--I don't think I went into detail, but he said that I...ambushed him?"

Mariano's breath caught. "I don't want to overstep again." He repeated. "He's a therapist and...I tried to keep things civilian friendly. It was why people hadn't been applying, and I tried to keep it brief, I...I don't really know what I did wrong. I didn't want to ask him to explain if I'd already hurt him."

A frown ghosted across Mary's face. "I see. Well, you don't have to worry about that, here. I have my own therapist, and I come to work expecting to hear about hard things."

She pushed the tissues closer, leaning forward to catch Mariano's eye. "And I think that I would've answered similarly, in your shoes. Maybe your friend was just having a hard time himself, and didn't communicate that well.

"But most people wouldn't consider that an ambush, just like you wouldn't consider it one if you asked a friend how they'd been and they said that they'd broken their leg recently, or lost a pet." She smiled softly when Mariano continued looking at her. "I think you'd just consider that surprising and unfortunate."

Mariano's jaw trembled. His eyes shone in the mid-afternoon light that streamed in through the window. "...I would."

"This hour is yours, Mariano. I'm not going to get upset at you." She plucked a few tissues and offered them over. "I've seen you for a while now. You don't have to be vigilant like that with me."

Mariano took them, holding them tight.

"Let me help you set some of that heavy stuff down." Mary offered. "You don't have to hold it all in on your own. You won't hurt me with it. It's safe."

Mariano's shoulders shuddered as he crumbled face-first into the tissues. A sob crawled out of him, escaping into his palms. It sounded agonized, like he'd been holding it in for months.

It was the most emotion he'd shown the entire time she'd known him. "It's okay to let people help you. You don't have to be a one man army anymore."

When Mariano had collected himself again, minutes later, Mary listened as he told her about the night that he almost died.

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper @bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @honeybees-125

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday22 #day 22 #stoicism breaks #self harm ment #anxiety ment #suicide ment #talk of a shooting #talk of captivity #talk of imprisonment #murder mention #mage of violence #mary barlowe #I love when conflicts happen in rp and it informs how a character interacts with people #it's fascinating!!#mariano is so ready to accept that he's hurt someone and needs to change even if other people's trauma might be informing their reaction #He's so ready for more instruction on how to be better and how to dull any sharp edges

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isamajor · 2 months

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Whumpril day 21 to 25

More whump drabbles with Skyrim Custom-voiced followers ! :D

21 . « Just hold on. »

It was pouring rain, as if they weren't already wet enough. Wading with difficulty by the light of torches in the Drajkmyr Marsh, the party tried to outrun the hostile fauna who lived here. Night had fallen and there was no suitable surface on which to set up camp, so they were doomed to always move further.

Caryalind's teeth chattered loudly, and his torch flickered, so cold he felt. His thoughts even seemed to freeze in place and his feet moved forward on pure instinct. Taliesin placed his hand on the prince's shoulder.

“Just hold on, your Highness.” (100)

•

22 . Stoicism break

Xelzaz sat alone, hunched over. His body screamed in protest as bruises bloomed across his scales, bones grinding together from fall he suffered a few hours ago. Pride prevented him from showing the extent of his pain, even amongst closest comrades. But each movement, each breathe hurt. Struggling not to betray his agony despite ingesting a numbing potion, Xelzaz maintained a calm demeanor all day. Now, safe within his tent, his defenses lowered and his stoicism dissolved. Sobs rose in his throat. He kept them completely silent, except for sharp inhalations that tore through his chest, the pained moans of which he quickly stifled. (104)

•

23 . Presumed dead

Several had fallen down the mountain, but Lydia had not been found. She did not respond to calls and despite searches, her body was not found. They stayed several days looking for her and waiting for her, but she never came. Xelzaz ended up expressing what everyone was thinking and fearing. "She is probably dead. May she have gone to Sovngarde."

A silence dotted with sad sighs answered him. The mountain was cruel and its frozen slopes dangerous. After a final farewell carried by the wind, and some montain flowers thrown in the abyss, they ended up continuing on their way. (101)

•

24 . No Time to Rest

The exploration of this ruin had been trying and it was with a certain joy that they had come out with the prospect of a well-deserved rest to heal their wounds. But they didn't have time for that. Sensing their weakness, a pack of wolves pounced on them, lips curled. Exhausted, weapons fell heavy in their hands. Kaidan groaned every time he swung his sword. Auri struggled to catch her breath after each shot. Inigo's reflexes were no longer as good. Lucien stayed behind to try to heal his comrades with the little Magicka he had left. Rest had to wait. (104)

•

25 . « Brace yourself. »

“We have no choice, we have to cross.”

Taliesin looked at the Dragonborn in horror, shaking his head. The river was in flood, the bridge could no longer be seen. He wouldn't go any further.

"Without me."

Kaidan sneered. "Brace yourself.", he just had time to say before suddenly grabbing the terrified Mer and throwing him over his shoulder. Without waiting, he entered the river, firmly holding Taliesin who suddenly stopped struggling as soon as the water soaked his robes. With gritted teeth, soaked and terrified, shaking uncontrollably, he clung helplessly to Kaidan, forced to trust in his abilities. (99)

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its-my-whump · 2 months

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Whumpril 2024 - Day 22

Stoicism breaks

@whumpril

Tw: gore and fight

He was a calm person, nice, a man of little words. He kept to himself, but not in an unsympathic overly pride way. It more seemed, that he was fine with himself, not needing to prove anything, nor to himself, neither to the world around.

He was a tall young man, normally build, even though, one could only guess, under his casual, but professional clothes. His long brown hair usually in a ponytail. Even though his boss didn't like it, he had kindy denied to every cut it or speak about this topic ever again. Their normally chatty boss was muzzled, probably for the first time in his career.

He was treating everybody with kindness and respect, he was a calm person, people liked to be around, mostly in silence.

But some days his knuckles were slightly red, not only his female colleagues recognised. The rumours were going from an allergy to bathing himself in bleach. They repeatedly came to the point, that this even-tempered man was working here for 2 years and yet they knew nothing about his personal life.

Stories, situations and impressions were compared. So someone had seen him vanish in the restroom with a sudden nosebleed, another one had too. Maybe he was fatally ill, but he usually looked too healthy. One or both ears looked slightly swallon some days. Those few days, he was wearing his hair open. The frontdesk lady had added, that his nose must have been broken. Somedays his smooth movements seemed a bit sore. Maybe despite the hours, he was probably working one or more other jobs, people discussed. His clothes were fitting for his job, but nothing fancy. Maybe he had a family or was devorced or needed to pay a loan shark or had a bunch for children.

The speculations were piling up, so that colleagues started to throw him hidden looks and paint their own little colorful picture of who this man really was.

Little did they know.

×××

On a fridaynight Freddy went out with his buddy for some beers and watching an event, his friend kept quiet about. It was a tiny door in some backstreet, even going there felt spooky and kind of illegal. Through a hallway and under the critical eyes of a security guy in front of another door, they entered. It was a large room, bright light in the middle, the audiance was gathering around, the rest only dimly lighted. It must have been a few hundred people, happily cheering and chatting. Everything smelled like beer and smoke. Freddy was a bit smaller than the average, so he needed to pass the crowd to see, what was going on and were his buddy had dragged him. Parts of the audiance were shouting, what sounded like encouragement or disappointment.

"What is this?" Freddy asked his buddy, while a beer was put into his hand. The other man just smiled and started to make their way towards the middle of the room. Freddy followed.

×××

The fist had landed between his ribs and pressed all air out of him with a huff, but he was fast enough to tense his abs, so his opponent's fist must hurt like hell too. Blood was rushing in his ears, his head was spinning a bit, being tightly pressed together by the headguard, but couldn't take all the brunt from the hits he had already caught.

He blocked the next swing to his face by raising his left arm. Sweaty skin and tense muscles of both hit hard against each other. His arm felt numb for a brief second. A second too long and the opponent's other fist smacked against the cushion above his jaw right into his right cheek.

The punch hit hard and fast, it felt like his teeth came lose, when his head was painfully smacked to the side. The impact swiped him of his feet. The bloody taste in his mouth was newly refreshed, as he bite down more on the biting piece.

During his fall, he managed to kick away the other man's shin and both ended up on the matt. His shoulder bumped into the ground and disloged a painful grunt. But the motion of the fall gave him enough to roll to his side and take his rival into a chokehold, wrapping his legs around the bigger man's body. The skin above his shin, where he kicked out the man's leg was dark red already. Both were grunting and struggling. Entangled, they wiggled on the floor for a bit.

Usually, his eyes didn't leave the cage during a fight, but the pair of eyes, that was staring at him from the other side of the fency in fear and disbelive got his attention. They were almost at eyelevel.

×××

Freddy's buddy had dragged him right in front of the brightly enlightened cage in the middle of the room. Every step closer, he started to realise, what kind of an event his friend had lead him to. They found a spot right in front of the fence. "THIS! Is bloodsports!" His buddy happily called out, opening his arms and swinging his beer in a gesture to present the picture in front of them.

Two tall man fighting an ugly sport in a cage. He could only see them from the side. One was a bit more muscular, older, his nose bloody. Red in his face and on his naked chest. Both bodys covered in sweat, he could see tense muscles moving under skin. The bigger guy landed a decent punch between the other one's ribs. Freddy almost jackknifed more than the thinner fighter did. Air audibly left the man's lungs and the grunt was carried over the cheering crowd. The following left block, forearm against forearm looked as if both of those arms should have been broken instantly. But they didn't, the impact only made a strong, hurtful sounding 'thud' and they went on.

The next punch to the thinner, defently a bit younger man, made Freddy actually close his eyes refexively. That definitely hurt, his stomach flipped, but he prayed his eyes open again, just to see them both bump painfully hard into the ground.

How did he do that?

This man's ears must be ringing and he must be seeing starts by that strong hit to his face and yet he made the other one fall as well. The matt on the floor didn't look like it was very comfortable at all, or that it could do more, than to stop their fall, as would do the naked floor.

He was sure the smaller fighter was done, when that big fist made his head snap to the side. But now, there on the floor, he got the upper hand again and wrapped his long legs around the guy, that had at least 15 lbs more muscle than him.

Freddy's reservation and fear were pulled back by curiousety and astonishment. Suddenly he realised something familar in the man's face. The headguard was making it hard to see.

Hah, maybe his colleague had a twin-brother, his head joked silently. This man really looked like him, but never could this fighter and this calm, silent, well-balanced man from work.... their eyes met through wire-mesh.

The recognition in the other man's eyes was all what he needed to confirm. Freddy just stared into Andrew's eyes, not believing that this fighter, covered in blood and sweat, holding an even bigger man in a chockhold on the ground, could ever be his colleague from work, professionally dressed, kindly refusing to participate in a lunchbreak with the others. Never!

Andrew's eyes lit up and his lips parted a bit, revealing a bloody biting piece and an disturbingly happy and confident smile as he saw Freddy.

"Holy fucking hell!" Freddy yelled out, as his head finally pitched it together. "RIGHT! He's a beast, isn't he!" His buddy laught at Freddy.

"Yeah and an account."

My masterlist

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday22 #stoicism breaks #whump #writing #whump writing #whump community #not sure what's wrong with me #though #whumpril

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blackrosesandwhump · 2 months

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Whumpril Day 22: Stoicism Breaks

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

CW: emotional whump, captivity

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

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

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

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

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

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tildeathiwillwrite · 2 months

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Getting Stabbed Hurts, Who'd have thought? (Magician's Bait, Part 6)

Whumpril Day 22 (Stoicism Breaks), Day 27 ("Please don't go")

Whumpril Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

first part | <- previous part

TW: stab wounds, stitches mention, disorientation, death mention, burns mention, dizziness

Context: Reese wakes up after passing out to find Luc binding her wounds. Damian is okay (for now).

-----

Reese’s head pounded like her skull was being used as a child’s drum set. Everything else was numb, but her head spun even before she opened her eyes. She lay face down, head resting against something hard and cold. Her arms were limp at her sides, and her left side throbbed in time with her heartbeat.

She lethargically turned her head and stared blankly ahead, prodding her tired mind to focus on her surroundings. The catacomb entrance… I’m at the catacomb entrance. We made it out… but how…?

Two people were seated on the ground opposite her, a woman with curly red hair pulled back into a braid and a man with wavy black hair. Both were facing away from her, and the woman was… painting the man’s arm?

Caiya… that’s Caiya Ebony. She must be painting healing runes of some sort. And he’s the prince. Why had it taken her so long to realize—?

“Reese?”

She blinked, eyes flicking to her left, where she found Luc. He knelt at her side, pressing something onto her back. Bandages?

Luc’s smile looked forced. “How… how are you feeling?”

She groaned softly. “Remind me… never get into a knife fight with a magician. Never again.”

“The wound looks worse than it is,” he said softly, “I had to give you emergency stitches. We would’ve gotten you some healing runes too, but, y’know….”

“How’d you spin that to Caiya?”

Luc scowled. “She hasn’t stopped fussing over His Highness since he dragged you out of the tunnel. You were both in pretty bad shape, he’s malnourished and weakened, but you were the one who was unconscious. He tried to get her to help you first, if it helps.”

Reese made to push herself upright, but Luc stopped her. “Hold on, let me help you.” He slowly lifted her from the ground and propped her against a nearby wall. “I need to finish tying your bandages, and then we can get you something to prevent infection.”

She hissed through her teeth at a sudden spike of pain from the wound in her back. “Do you have anything that can stop the pain?”

“Nothing that I haven’t already given you.”

Silence presided between them for a few minutes while Luc wound the bandages around Reese’s torso. She listened idly to snatches of the conversation between Damian and Caiya while ignoring the throbbing in her head and the twinging in her back.

“I told you, Caiya,” Damian said patiently, “she said her name was Natali Tallis.”

“And need I tell you,” Caiya snapped, “that ‘Natali Tallis’ died nearly a decade ago? Her body was burned and mangled almost beyond recognition due to a backfire in her rune structure.”

Damian sighed and took a cautious sip of water. “But can you deny that the description matches? Is it possible that she faked her death somehow?”

Caiya froze mid-stroke, her brush dripping ink onto the ground. She flicked her wrist, finishing the rune with a quick and precise stroke before putting the brush away with a huff. “I was there, Your Highness. I was the one who had to check her pulse to declare if she was dead.”

She exhaled slowly, pressing her fingers to her temples. “Now can you see why I find it so hard to believe she had lived?”

Damian stared at her for a long moment. He took a deep breath and glanced at the rune she’d drawn on his forearm. The cuts left on his wrist from the rough ropes had closed, leaving only faint scars. “Who’s to say she died from the knife to the heart, then?”

Impossible.

Luc glanced over at the pair. “Should we go and check, if you’re not certain?”

“I don’t know,” Damian said softly, “you never really know with Stalkers, do you—?”

“It’s not possible,” Reese stated.

“But—”

“It’s not!” she snapped, wincing. “I stabbed her through the heart, yes. But any healing runes she might have used, written or spoken, would not have worked. She wounded me with the knife first. I then pierced her heart using the same knife. That knife was dripping with my own blood. It would have weakened, if not completely nullified her magic. She didn’t survive.”

Damian nodded in understanding, but Caiya frowned in confusion.

“Was that why you got stabbed?!” Luc hissed under his breath as he tied the loose ends of the bandages together, securing the binding.

“You think I meant to get stabbed?”

“I seem to recall our first lesson being ‘Don’t Get Stabbed, Reese’.”

Reese snorted and immediately regretted it. “Ow….”

Luc slowly rose to his feet, the concern evident on his face. “Do you think you can stand? We should get you home.”

She stared at him for a long moment before seizing his arm and hauling herself up, ignoring the way the wound in her back throbbed as she moved the damaged muscles. Her head spun, and Reese tightened her grip on Luc’s arm even as he grabbed her shoulder to stabilize her.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she muttered, “I’ve been through worse.”

He sighed. “If you really think you’re alright, I should escort the prince home before anything else happens.”

Reese blinked. “I….”

Luc started to step away, but she stopped him. “Please… please don’t go and leave me alone.”

“You sure? Because if you’re not feeling up to it I can—”

“I’m sure.” She took a step forward, sucking in a sharp breath through her teeth. “I just… I don’t know. I just don’t want to be left alone.”

Luc nodded in understanding. “Of course. I can have an experienced doctor reevaluate your stitches at the palace.” He smiled reassuringly. “Not that I don’t trust my own work… but I have to admit my hands were shaky.”

Damian rose to his feet, Caiya quickly following suit. He joined them near the wall, absently rubbing at the scars on his wrists. The ink on his arm was fading as the magic did its work. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I can take on a sang with nothing but my bare hands,” Reese said sarcastically.

He grinned. “I’d like to see that fight.”

Luc made a face. “I wouldn’t. But my money’s on the sang.”

“It’s your money,” Damian said, chuckling. “Your apprentice fought well against Natali, despite the injury. You should be very proud.”

Reese held up a hand. “Uh… I’m not his apprentice.” She glanced at Luc. “Right?”

The Watcher raised his eyebrows in an expression of reluctant agreement. “Well… he’s not wrong… and I might’ve slipped a few of Hector’s lessons into our training sessions… wasn’t on purpose, I swear!”

She punched him in the shoulder. “I’m sure Father’ll be thrilled to hear that.”

“Celestials, he’s gonna kill me when he finds out about what I asked you to do.”

Reese shrugged. “Hey, I agreed to do it. Just tell him I volunteered so he blames me rather than you. But the Watcher’s apprentice thing? Dunno.”

Luc sighed through his nose. “Let’s burn that bridge when it comes to it, okay? Right now we need to be getting somewhere safer than just outside the catacombs.”

Damian nodded. “Of course, Watcher.”

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @whumpril

Thank you for reading this whump ficlet! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :3

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losthavenmine · 1 year

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Whumpril 2023 Day 22: Infection

Gladiator (2000)

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday22 #infection #gladiator #russell crowe #djimon hounsou #filmedit #movieedit #filmgifs #moviegifs #junkfooddaily #dailyflicks #fyeahmovies #cinemapix #cinematv #perioddramaedit #perioddramasource

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bg-sparrow · 2 months

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Fandom: Back to the Future || Rating: T || Genre: Whump, Angst, Some Humor || Summary: In which Marty finds himself living an outlaw’s life alongside Buford Tannen in the Old West, where danger, death, and disease abound.

whumpril 2024 || day 22 - allergic reaction

Buford’s eyes inched open. The small tail of the gray-and-black-striped kitten stroked his cheek as it curled against his shoulder. Its noisy purring reverberated down his arm and into his chest – and aggravated the tickle in his nose. Buford sneezed hard. “Aw, hey,” came Marty’s sleepy drawl. He picked up the kitten under its belly and stroked it between its ears. “Smokey’s back.” Buford sniffed, wiping the tears from the corners of his burning eyes. “You named the cat?” “Well, yeah. This is what, the third night he’s been here?” “Don’t you know,” Buford growled, “cats and dogs don’t mix?”

#whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday22 #allergic reaction #back to the future #bttf #marty mcfly #buford tannen #frenemies #drabble #stand there and bleed #whump drabble #fanfic #fanfiction

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crimsonlyinglilly · 2 months

Text

Day 22 Stoicism Breaks

for day 22 of whumpril

Familiar faces, Set episode 10 of season 3 Originals, before this days 16, 18 and 27 of febuwhump and Day 18 Broken Glass

Elijah miscalculates, Tristan wins and Elias is confused.

----

Elijah felt a wave of unease as he felt a sudden weight of magic fall upon him; he knew he let something show past his mask as he noticed the way Tristan’s eyes lit up before he closed his eyes in an automatic attempt to shake off the sudden weight.

—-

Elijah opened his eyes wondering when he closed it until instead of the cemetery and Tristan’s smug face he found himself staring at a white ceiling.

One he knew.

No! he swallowed, slowly shifting his body, twisting his wrists against the restraints; the padded cuffs, hearing the metal bed frame crack under him, feeling the thin white blanket through the thin equally white scrubs that patients who couldn’t be trusted to follow the rule were left to wear.

EJ hadn’t worn them for years when he made his escape attempt, he had been so careful to follow the rules until he found an opening, he waited for years just too make sure it wouldn’t be caught before it was too late if they realised his plans.

It felt too real but it couldn’t be.

Still he remembered the itchy feeling of the fabric, the panic it used to cause him even in the life that followed and why mum and dad always made sure to get Elijah the softest clothes they could.

“Oi, Coma boy’s awake!” a loud voice shouted, he turned his head to see another man in similar clothes.

Benny, the one who had told him how to hotwire a car once when Elijah was bored, Elijah had forgotten the greys in his hair and the timber of his voice but now it was so clear.

This wasn’t real, it was a dream, a memory of the past it had to be.

But Elijah had never been admitted to the medical ward for injures to his wrists before until his escape.

“Oh! you're awake,” the nurse smiled at him, one of those that had known EJ before he had chosen that name, “your cousin will be pleased.”

“Cousin?” the word came from him without his plan, this wasn’t real, he wanted it to stop.

“Mr Salvatore.” she answered with a flicker of concern.

Zee? He thought with a flicker of hope, No! He shook his head, he had died, he escaped, he was Elijah Gilbert, he remembered everything, he was Elijah Mikaelson.

EJ Salvatore died.

He couldn’t do this again, couldn't take being trapped and imprisoned anymore.

Knowing that didn’t make any of this feel any less real, didn’t help the growing panic and desperation.

Not this, please.

“He’s been very consistent, calling every few days.” She continued blind to Elijah’s growing distress.

“Yeah, even visited a few times, thinking he’d get bored after the third month.” Benny added nodding.

“Month? How long have i- what's the date?” he changed his question mid way through, a pit growing in his stomach.

“22nd of June 1992.” she said the date as if it was just another day.

No, that was his and Elena’s birthday, he couldn’t be here, he was meant to be getting his parents.

“Fine, Tristan.” he sighed heavily clawing for his control, ignoring the two people who weren’t real, who couldn’t be. “you win, release me.” he called towards the white ceiling he hates.

“Tristan? Whose that?” The nurse asked, looking as if she wasn’t trying to remember if there was another patient with that name.

“Ah!” Benny let out a noise of amusement, “I heard about people living their whole lives in their coma, is that what you were doing? Come one EJ share with us-” the rest of his word vanished under the loud beat of Elijah’s heart, it felt like a hole opened up in his chest as the idea settled.

It would make sense a world where he had a loving pair of parents, where his dreams were real and he wasn’t insane, where Zee and him were close, where he was one of the strongest being around, where he was helpless, imprisoned for his own good, relying on medication to keep him from breaking apart.

No that wasn’t true, it was real, this wasn’t, he shook his head, but the hand that touch his skin felt real, warm alive

He died, he escaped, this can’t be real.

No No No, the word repeated around his head as he denials failed to help him calm down not this, not here, not again

His calm and control shattered.

“LET ME OUT!” he screamed.

—

Tristan will treasure the memory of Elijah's face as he notices the spell moments too late, the flicker of annoyance giving way to a second of fear before Elijah closed his eyes and Elias opened his eyes to stare back at Tristan.

“Sir?” his pet asked.

“Elias.” he smiled “How are you feeling?” he questioned as he reached out for the boy.

“Confused” the boy admitted, leaning into the touch while looking around them, “where are we?”

Tristan kept his smiled up as he started to lead him away, he had some time before he would visit the wolves and collect his message for Klaus, time to enjoy reconnecting with his pet, to watch as his Elias stripped out of the suit Elijah Mikaelson dressed in that morning.

—-

Elias kept his questions to himself after Mr Martel didn’t explain where they were, instead he lean into him and looked around at the new place, new city, as he ignored the screaming pleas echoing around his head.

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday22 #Stoicism Breaks #tvd fanfiction #au- Familiar faces #the vampire dairies au #the originals au #fanfiction #the vampire diaries #elijah mikaelson #tristan de martel

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uuuhshiny · 1 year

Photo

Russel Crowe in Gladiator

Infection

#by uuuhshiny #Russell Crowe #Gladiator #whumpril2023 #whumpedit #uuuhshiny's gifs #RC gifs #Whumprilday22 #Infection #gore #open wound #this last gif... hmmm

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drabbles-mc · 1 year

Text

Nothing New (Part 2)

EZ Reyes x OFC (Lola Ortega)

Part 1 can be found Here

For Day 22 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: "Let's get you cleaned up."

Warnings: 18+, angst, language, blood/injury

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I think about these two all the time. My brain has been Bad lately so hopefully this still came out okay. I just. I love their angst and their constant push and pull. I want to make life easy for them but I can't lmao

EZ Reyes Taglist: @rosieposie0624 @noz4a2 @queenbeered @choochoo284 @thesandbeneathmytoes @mijagif @withmyteeth @kelpies-shed @louisianalady @gemini0410 @buckybarneshairpullingkink @amorestevens @garbinge @justreblogginfics @jveudlamoula @passionatewrites @nessamc @winchestershiresauce @artemiseamoon @littlekittymeow @frattsparty @fanfic-n-tabulous @beardburnsupersoldiers @justazzi @solidly-indulgent @danzer8705 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

The weeks that followed their last discussion felt precarious. It felt like there were still eggshells hidden around, waiting for one of them to step on them and reduce it to shatters. The distance that time had put between them was hard enough to traverse, but the extra miles that EZ was manufacturing to keep her away just seemed cruel, salt in an already-aggravated wound.

She could deal with limbo, to a certain extent. She expected it, even, as they got back into knowing each other. The usual routine for reconnecting with old friends had gotten thrown out the window the first night they saw each other after so many years apart, so now they were back-tracking and trying to do it over the right way this time. It wasn’t as easy as they’d hoped, especially with the bumps they’d already hit in the road, but they were determined to figure it out.

They existed in the space between friends and something more. It would’ve been simple enough to pretend that their first night together didn’t happen, or that it was just a mistake borne from too much alcohol and too many years apart. But the truth was that neither of them wanted that. Even EZ, for all of his self-sabotage, wasn’t ready to let her go now that he’d had her like that.

But that didn’t mean that he was ready to let her in, either. The push-and-pull of that muddied the waters, kept things from being simple. He could feel himself doing it, too, but he couldn’t seem to make himself stop. There were a lot of things that EZ still didn’t get into with her. He said precious little about the club. Part of her understood that, understood that there was a lot that happened with the club that anyone who didn’t wear a kutte wasn't allowed to know the ins and outs of. But she still wanted to get a better picture of what it was all about now, what this huge new part of EZ’s life meant for him, and for her, if she decided to stick around.

When EZ had left her apartment the day before, the last thing he said to he was that he’d let her know when he was back safe at the clubhouse. He didn’t say where he was going, didn’t say why, and Lola didn’t ask him to tell her either of those things. She knew that she was going to be met with vague answers, so she took what she had been given. That was well over twenty-four hours ago now, though, and from the way he had been talking it didn’t sound like whatever it was that he was doing was going to take that long. But she’d gone to work, come back home, and done it all over again all without hearing anything from him. So now she was back to sitting on her bed, trying not to overthink it all.

Letting out a deep sigh, she reached over and grabbed her phone off her nightstand, scrolling to the last text message she’d sent him. She sent it late the night before when she could feel herself finally about to go to sleep. Just a short, simple, “Hope everything is okay” that she never got a reply to.

She toyed with the phone in her hands for a few moments before hitting the call button. Part of her knew better than to get her hopes up that he would answer, but it couldn’t hurt to try.

After a long series of rings, she was met with the automated voice telling her that the person she was trying to reach wasn’t available. The couple seconds before the beep had Lola wondering if it was even worth it to leave a voicemail for him. If he didn’t have time to answer a text, it wasn’t more likely that he was going to give her a call back. Taking a deep breath, she managed to end the call just before the beep sounded.

She let her phone drop onto her comforter, running her hands over her face and back through her hair. Suddenly the stillness and silence of her apartment felt like a bad omen, like a calm before the storm. She didn’t know if that feeling would be more or less intense if she actually knew what the hell EZ and the rest of the club were getting into.

Another hour went by, and there was still nothing. No text, no call, no EZ miraculously showing up and knocking at her apartment door. If he hadn’t promised she’d hear from him, she wouldn’t be worrying so much. They were grown, they could go a couple days without talking—they didn’t owe each other anything when it came to that. But he was the one who had said he’d be in touch, and now it was radio silence.

Letting out a groan, she yanked the blanket off her legs, kicking it so that it bunched up at the foot of her bed. Swinging her legs over, Lola got up and made her way over to her dresser, changing out of her pajamas, trading in her comfortable shorts for jeans, swapping out one tank top for another. She swiped her phone off the bed, stuffing it into the pocket of her jeans as she left the comfort of her bedroom. She barely slowed down enough to slip her boots on, too focused on grabbing her bag and her keys and getting out of the apartment. It was a miracle that she remembered to lock the door behind her.

It felt unnaturally dark out when she pulled up to the scrapyard. They had a few scattered lights throughout the compound, something between a street-lamp and a light pulled from a high school football field. The light cast off from them just seemed to emphasize the rest of the darkness that was surrounding them.

Putting her car in park, she hopped out. The small handful of times that she’d been there, the gate had been open. She frowned as she looked at the heavy metal, wondering how she was supposed to get herself on the other side of it. Even in her younger more reckless days, that was one gate that she wouldn’t have been able to hop even if she had been stupid enough to try.

Raking her nails back along her scalp, she tried to figure out what her next plan of action was. It wasn’t like she could just call EZ to come and let her in. The fact that it was so quiet had her thinking that no one was around. Then it became a question of whether she was going to wait and hope someone turned up, or if she was just going to go all the way back home to sit and worry there instead.

Just as she was about to slump down and sit in front of the gate, she heard the rattling of the office door being pulled open. She froze, feeling hopeful and like she was trespassing at the same time. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited to see who it was that would be walking out.

The man was whistling, eyes on the ground as he watched his step leaving the building. It was only when he lifted his gaze to turn around that he noticed Lola’s car. Then, looking around, he noticed Lola. His eyes grew wide, but he didn’t flinch.

Lola had no idea who he was, but the Romero Brother’s shirt that he was wearing gave her a little bit of hope. Clearing her throat, she walked over to him. “Hi.”

“The scrapyard is closed,” he said, studying her like he was trying to figure out if he was supposed to know her.

“I know. I, um,” she didn’t know how much she should say, “I’m looking for EZ. He’s my…he’s a friend.”

“A friend,” he repeated.

She nodded. “Yea.” Both of them stood there awkwardly for a moment before Lola realized that she should probably tell this guy who she was. “Sorry.” She held her hand out, not batting an eye at his prosthetics. “I’m Lola.”

“Lola,” he said, like he was turning the word over in his mind. “I’m Chucky.” He paused. “EZ isn’t here.”

Apparently he’d gotten the memo about giving vague answers. “Right. Okay. I just, I’ve been waiting to hear from him and…nothing.”

He frowned at the worry in her expression. “I don’t know where they are.”

She believed that. She just didn’t know what she was supposed to do now. “O-okay. Thank you, Chucky.”

“Do you want to wait here?” he offered.

She couldn’t hide the relief on her face. “That would be great, yea.”

He gave a small nod before walking past her towards the gate. “No one else is here. I’m sure they won’t mind.”

She wasn’t as sure about that as he was, but she wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity. After she’d pulled her car in and parked it off to the side out of the way of the clubhouse, she found herself standing in the empty lot, feeling much more out of place than she already had, which she wasn’t quite sure was possible. Chucky lingered with her for a few minutes, clearly unsure about whether or not he should be leaving her there alone.

They were each seated on the steps that led up to the clubhouse, and Lola was about to apologize for holding him up, making his late night even later. However before she could, the sound of motorcycle engines cut through the silence in the air. Both their heads snapped to look towards the gate. Sure enough, hardly a few minutes later, the entire entourage of bikes, and the van, all came rolling in.

Chucky was up on his feet in a second, making his way towards where they were all starting to line up their bikes. Lola managed to get herself to her feet, but she hung back by the steps. She knew that she probably wasn’t supposed to be here for any of this. The less noticeable she made herself, the better.

She watched from the sidelines as each of the men began to dismount their bikes, taking their helmets off in the process. She saw Angel first, which was reassuring. A couple of the other men she didn’t exactly know but she’d seen them before when she stopped by to see EZ. Everyone looked exhausted, beat up in one way or another. However, as the sound of bike engines started to die off, all of them beginning to fall silent, she still had yet to see EZ. Her nails were nearly drawing blood from her palms as she clenched her fists at her side.

None of the guys seemed to notice her as they talked among themselves. Lola watched with bated breath, tears starting to well in her eyes as she waited for any clue as to what the hell was going on. She watched as Angel walked around to the back of the van, sighing as he yanked the back doors of it open.

“Alright, Boy Scout,” he said, sounding more exhausted than anything as he reached to help his brother stumble out the back of the van, “let’s go.”

“EZ?” the name came falling out of Lola’s mouth before she could stop it. Not especially loud, but the surprised yet concerned lilt in her voice caused everyone to turn and look at her.

It was only then that Chucky spoke up, turning and looking at EZ who was leaning on his brother for support, breaking the tense silence with, “Lola came looking for you.”

Angel tried to choke back a chuckle, knowing that it wasn’t the time or the place. EZ just shook his head, peeling his gaze off of Lola and looking at the man who had a knack for pointing out the obvious, “Thanks, Chucky.”

He took that as his cue to leave, giving a nod to the rest of the men who were standing around before taking off back towards the gate to leave. Lola started to make her way towards where everyone was standing, while most of the men started to disperse, heading for the clubhouse. Lola passed by them all without a word as she walked up to Angel and EZ.

“What are you doing here?” EZ asked when she walked up to him.

She frowned at his tone even though she knew it was coming. “I—”

“She’s helping me carry your ass to the trailer,” Angel cut her off, knowing that this was going to turn into an argument that he didn’t want to be part of. He looked at Lola before nodding at EZ. “Help me out.”

Lola was about to loop her arm around the other side of him when EZ waved her off. “I’m good.”

Angel rolled his eyes as the three of them slowly made their way towards EZ’s trailer. “Yea, you’re good. That’s why Creep had to ride your bike the rest of the way back.”

“What happened?” Lola asked, not able to contain her worry, her curiosity.

“Nothing,” EZ’s response came immediately, a knee-jerk reaction as he limped along.

Angel didn’t have the same reservations as he did. “He wiped out. Smacked his head off the blacktop.”

EZ rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that bad. Leg hurts worse than my head, honestly.”

“Yea,” Angel said with a scoff, “that’s because you’re missing some skin that’s supposed to be there.”

“Jesus,” Lola said quietly, going a few strides ahead of them so that she could pull open the door of EZ’s trailer.

EZ shot his brother a look. “Do you have to make it worse?”

Angel chuckled, shaking his head. “You do that just fine on your own with her, Little Brother.” He paused as he and EZ both awkwardly maneuvered up the stairs. “All those brains and you’re still a fuckin’ idiot.”

Lola only heard the latter comment, and it got an eye-roll out of her even if she wanted to laugh a little bit. “Angel…”

He dropped EZ rather unceremoniously onto the mattress, holding his hands up in surrender once he was done. “He’s your problem now.” He pulled her into a quick hug, and even through the brief gesture she could feel how tired he was. “You good?”

It took Lola a second to realize that Angel was talking to her, not EZ. Clearing her throat, she nodded. “Of course. Go and get some rest.”

“Yea,” he lightly squeezed her shoulder as he pulled away from her. He stepped past EZ as he reached for the door. “Call if you need me.”

EZ nodded, knowing that he wasn’t going to be doing that. “I will.” Once the door clattered shut behind Angel, EZ turned his attention back to Lola. He winced as he moved, trying to find a comfortable way to sit. “What are you doing here?”

“I got worried.”

“I told you I’d let you know—��

“And then you didn’t.”

“Well I wasn’t back.” There was more venom to his statement than he meant for there to be, but he didn’t apologize for it.

He wasn’t wrong, technically. He hadn’t reached out to say he made it back, because he hadn’t made it back. But that also wasn’t the real issue at play here. They both knew that, and Lola wasn’t going to let EZ try and turn their argument into something that it wasn’t.

“I was worried. I’m…I’m allowed that.”

“You can’t just be showing up here,” he said as he shook his head at her.

“You’d have more of a right to be upset about all of this if you were actually okay. But you’re not. I was right to worry this time.”

He shook his head. “I know. But I don’t,” he sighed, eyes dropping to the floor for a moment before looking back up at her, “I don’t want you involved in all this shit, Lola.”

“I’m not involved.”

“If you’re here, you’re involved,” he shot back.

The statement gave her pause. She figured that the reason he made the trek to her place more often than not was because there was just more room, felt a little more like a home than his trailer did. She figured that not really wanting her around the guys from the club was part of it, she just didn’t realize how big of a part it was.

“Well,” she shook her head as she started to gather up things to clean out the road rash that was only partially covered by his torn jeans, “I’m going to have to get involved eventually.”

“Why?”

Her brows furrowed as she looked over at him. “Are you planning on leaving the club anytime soon?”

“No, but—”

“And I’m not leaving you,” she cut him off, soft but firm. “So. You know…yea.”

For just a moment his angry façade cracked and real worry shone through. “What if something happened to you?”

She shook her head at him as she brought her things over. “Seems like you’re the only one who has things happening to them.” She held her hand out to help him up. “C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He winced a bit but otherwise held his tongue as he allowed her to help him up, trying to keep his weight off of the leg that took the brunt of the damage. If he didn’t know better he’d think that something in his hip got put in the wrong place with how much it hurt to try and move.

When EZ was sitting back down, she set about trying to clean his leg out the best that she could. She knew that there would be no getting him to the doctor over this, so she didn’t even bother trying. “Did you really just wipe out?” she asked as she cleaned.

He sighed, head dropping back so he was staring up at the ceiling. “Lola, don’t.”

“Ezekiel, come on. Even if I wasn’t here tonight, I would’ve seen this,” she gestured to his leg, “eventually. And I would ask then.”

“I know you think you wanna know all of this, know this part of me, but I’m telling you, you d—”

“How long are you going to be using that excuse?” she asked, wanting to sound angrier than she did. Tears started to gather at the edges of her eyes. “How long do I have to stay before you trust me?”

“We’ve hardly known each other for a month.”

She sat back on her heels at that, hurt all over her face. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true. I, I grew up three streets away from you! You played baseball with my brother all throughout high school! Don’t,” her voice shook as she tried not to let it crack, “don’t act like none of that matters.”

“It doesn’t,” he said, shaking his head, “Not when it comes to this.”

They both fell silent after that. Lola finished cleaning and wrapping his leg without much of an issue. She heard him hiss in pain a few times but she knew that if she tried to offer him any words of comfort she was just going to get herself worked up. Having the work to focus on for a bit was good, something to keep her emotions in check.

When she was done, she got up and went to wash her hands in his kitchen sink, still not saying anything to him. EZ watched her, and he couldn’t deny that he felt a wave of guilt over it all. He knew she meant well, that she cared. He knew that she wasn’t just going to walk away, but that’s what made it all so much more difficult for him. She wasn’t the type to turn tail and run out on someone when things got difficult, she never had been. Sticking by him when they were kids had been one thing, it’d been easy—there was no real danger back then. But now there was, and he didn’t want to be the one responsible for hurting her, destroying a life that she’d spent the last ten years building for herself.

“Thank you,” he finally said.

She nodded as she dried her hands. “You’re welcome.”

There was a long pause before he asked, “Are you gonna head back?”

She shrugged—she hadn’t thought that far ahead. “Do you want me to stay?”

It felt selfish to say yes after all that he’d said to her. But he also had to think that if she didn’t want to stay, she wouldn’t have given him the option. “If you want.”

A sad, tired smile tried to lift the ends of her mouth. “Okay.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment as she went and grabbed one of his shirts to wear, letting her clothes land in a pile on the floor. She watched as EZ shrugged off his kutte and put it off to the side before peeling his shirt off over his head. He let that fall in the pile with her things as well. When he looked back at her, any calm he might’ve felt over the sight of her there, with him, wearing his things, was erased when he saw the way her eyes were taking in the bruises scattered on his body.

Without either of them saying a word about it, she crawled into bed beside him, neither of them minding the tight fit. She tried to carefully position herself around him so that she wouldn’t aggravate any of his injuries.

After a few minutes of laying there in silence with EZ’s hand lightly trailing up and down her back, Lola said, “I know…I know you look at my life and think that you shouldn’t be part of it.”

He exhaled, visibly deflating. “Lola…”

Propping herself up on her elbow, she looked at him. “You can’t keep using my life against me, using it as an excuse to keep me at arm’s-length.”

He toyed with the ends of her hair that were laying on his chest as she leaned over him. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to protect me from you. If anything,” her hand grazed over the scar running down his arm, “I should be protecting you from you.”

He let out a quiet chuckle at that. “Maybe.”

There was a beat of silence before the heaviness returned. “I don’t want whatever this, we, turn out to be, I don’t want it to be a fight every step of the way. It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“I know.”

She shook her head, bringing her hand so that it was cupping the side of his face. “Then you gotta stop fighting me, Ezekiel.”

He rested his hand over hers. “I’m trying, I’m just,” he let out a small laugh, “really bad at it.”

For the first time since he’d left, Lola felt the knot in her stomach start to go away. “Yea, I see that.” She let him weave his fingers through hers. “Pendejo,” she said softly with a shake of her head.

“You’re the one who said you wanna stick around,” he said, a smile on his face despite the exhaustion.

Allowing herself to lie down next to him again, she let her cheek rest against his chest. She pulled her hand away from his face and let her arm drape across him. “I do. And I will.” She felt the ride of the scar on his stomach beneath her palm. “I promise.”

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday22 #let's get you cleaned up #mayansmc #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayans mc fanfic #ez reyes #ezekiel reyes #ez reyes x ofc #ez reyes x oc #ezekiel reyes x oc #ez reyes fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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