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zxoaii · 18 days

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I MADE A WHUMP EVENT: get ready for July folks

welcome to the Whumperless Whump Event of July! for your sickfic, situational, and completely apersonal whump needs--comfort included, of course.

Image transcripts, tagging rules, and guidelines under the cut!

RULES

Any and all art types allowed! GIFs, drawings, music, writing, etc.

NO AI ALLOWED

OCs and Fandom works alike are welcome :)

Trigger and content tag. Even if the prompt explicitly requires the content (eg. Vomiting), still tag emetophobia

If enough interest is showed, I will make an Ao3 collection

TAGGING

Tag with, per example: #whumperless whump event day 1, #whumperless day 1: [prompt], and #whumperless whump event

Tag me (@whump-kia) if you desire on your work!

Again, make sure to trigger tag and content warn

Prompts (text):

Emergency First Aid: Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.”

Does your insurance cover this?: Car accident / Bystander caretaker / “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

Like a record, baby: Vertigo / Struggling to stand / “Is the room spinning, or is it just me?”

It's every day bro: Chronic pain / Massage / “I'm used to it.”

Stealing my breath (give it back): Wheezing / Light-headed / “I'll count, you just breathe.”

Summer is a curse: Heat Stroke / Panting / “Why don't we… find some shade, quick?”

Accidental Cryotherapy: Falling through a frozen lake / Hypothermia / “Hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake.”

Put your head on my shoulder: Migraine / Light & Sound Sensitivity / “I can close the curtains…”

White and red handkerchief: Coughing up blood / Can't speak / “You just can't shake that cough, can you?”

Your work is never finished: Forced to work while ill / Workplace emergency / “...sit down, I'm calling HR.”

A minor annoyance: Stuffy nose / Hate to be sick / “I'm fine, I can work.”

It's going down (I'm yelling timber): Building collapse / Trapped under rubble / “I can't move my legs.”

It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

Lay down your sword: Fighting back a cold / Cuddling / “Just let yourself be sick so you can get better.”

I'm going down (you're yelling timber): Passing out / Exhaustion / “I've got you, let's sit down, I've got you.”

Say goodbye to filters: Half-conscious / Delirious / “You would never say that in your right mind…”

In hot water: Dangerously high fever / Cool baths / “We have to get that number down somehow.”

I don't see it: Hallucinations / Fever dreams / “It's just a nightmare. You're safe.”

The whump morning after: Tending to injuries / Domestic hurt comfort / “Let's check the bandages, okay?”

It's not fun if you're panicking: Stuck in an elevator / Claustrophobia / “Get me out.”

Where's the exit: Lost / Stuck in the wilderness / “Surely someone will notice we're gone.”

Better out than in: Nervous Stomach / Vomiting / “I got your hair, it's fine.”

Well, that doesn't taste right: Accidentally poisoned / Allergic reaction / “My tongue feels like bees, is that normal?”

Be one with the fish: Drowning / Rescue Breaths / “Why did you think that was a good idea?!”

We didn't start the fire: Severe burns / Running into flames / “I know it hurts. Breathe.”

That's no barn spider: Venomous bite / Arachnophobia / “You'll be okay, we can help.”

What's your name again?: Concussion / Temporary Amnesia / “I don't remember what happened to me.”

Nothing behind the eyes: Fully unconscious / Force feeding / “It's just me, go back to sleep.”

Wrong place, wrong time: Robbery / One of many hostages / “Stay behind me, I can take a hit.”

I don't mean to get emotional: Fear / Breaking point / “I can't stop crying, I'm sorry--”

Only way out is through: Tunnel collapse / Accidental Journey / “We can't just sit here and wait.”

ALTERNATES:

Seizure

Choking

Withdrawal

Drugged

Wild animal attack

Hangover

Strain/sprain

Broken bone

Bloody nose

Panic attack

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zxoaii · 20 days

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Lovers from the past

fem! reader x Peeta Mellark

Summary: From childhood friends to lovers, Peeta and Y/n are reunited after the games.

WC: 2.9k

Prologue: Peeta Mellark, the sole victor of the 74th Hunger Games became a star in the capital for his small town love story. The world watched as a once gentle man turned into a remorseless killer in an effort to return to his lover.

[ Y/n ]

The anxiety that has been suffocating me for the past 20 days comes to an all time high as I stand on the train platform surrounded by Peacekeepers and capital cameras.

The warm summer air hugs my skin, urging me to try to relax. I have been pampered and made out to look like a completely different person. Makeup is caked up onto my face. It’s unnatural feeling urges me to wipe it all off. Though that would only mean having it reapplied. And there are more important things at hand than makeup right now.

There’s a faint hum in the distance. The woman urges the cameras to start rolling. My posture straightens as I search between the trees for the sight of the train.

Within the blink of an eye it appears. Coming toward us so quickly I’m unsure if it will be able to stop in time. Bile sits in the base of my throat. Tears well up in my eyes. Despite my concern, the train comes to a steady halt in front of us.

It feels like an eternity for the doors to slide open. The air seems to come rushing back to me as I see him. Peeta stands hollow eyed by his games mentor and the capital woman.

I make the move for him, running onto the train and into his embrace. Peeta’s fingers dig into my waist and my hair. At first I’m at a loss for words. What do you say after enduring unthinkable horrors?

“I love you.” I let my tears fall as I squeeze my eyes shut. We had said the words a million times over to one another in our lives. But this time was different. Raw and passionate. “I love you too.” His voice shakes as he holds me.

“Alright you two let’s get this over with.” The gravely man places a hand on Peeta’s back. We reluctantly pull away from each other all too soon. This close I can see the marks left by his time in the arena. Cuts and bruises litter his once perfect skin.

“Y/n, how does it feel to see Peeta again?” A camera is shoved into my face. The lights burn my eyes. “It’s… A relief. I feel like I can breathe again.” Peeta’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me to his side. I accept this closeness, never wanting to be an arms length away from him again.

“How did you feel during his brawl with Cato?” My heart drops into the depths of my stomach. The memory of watching Peeta come so close to… The question feels insensitive.

“I was terrified. Completely… Terrified.” My hand finds his on my waist, feeling the warmth of his skin for reassurance. Reassurance of life.

They feign sympathy for me. Like they could ever know that kind of fear. “Peeta, what were you thinking as you went through the games?” They turn to him.

“Y/n. I just thought about her every second.” I can feel his eyes on me but when I turn to meet them he looks back at the camera. If you didn’t know him you might think he had come out unscathed. But here, looking at him now, I can see every falter. Every wince at the thought of what just happened. Every tiny detail that gives away his hurt and fear.

The safety of Peeta’s room feels infiltrated with foreign knowledge. Foreign feelings. He sits on his bed completely silent. Just staring at the wall in front of him.

I unbutton the pressed dress shirt he wears and push it off his arms. “Here.” I slide the soft worn cotton tee over Peeta’s head. Bruises and bloodied injuries invade the once so familiar landscape of his body.

It takes effort to hide the sadness in my eyes. Pitying wouldn’t do anything to fix this. No, I needed to watch the world burn to right this wrong.

“Are you hungry?” My question falls on deaf ears. “Peeta.” I take a seat next to him after a moment of no response. He turns to me, those hollow eyes sparked with an unfamiliar look. Before I can get another word out his lips crash onto mine.

I brace myself against the bed, eyes wide with shock. Peeta’s sweet taste intoxicates me. Slurring any rational thoughts I have. The unsaid feelings all come out now in this heated kiss.

“I thought I’d never feel your lips again.” He holds my face gently, contrasting with the roughness of his skin. The capital broadcasted our story every waking moment.

Childhood best friends devastatingly in love with each other. A couple torn apart by tragedy. And then a boy turned primal for the chance to see the girl he loves again.

Not a human fighting for survival. No, our lives have become a story the capital can’t get enough of. Our love consumed by every person watching. Capital citizens hungrily begging for more, more, more.

“I was so afraid.” The shake in my voice exposes me for how devastated I really am. My fingers desperately find his neck, holding him close. The faint beating of his pulse against my palm brings me over the edge.

Peeta won the games but I can’t help but feel completely devastated. Anger and sadness spill out of me pathetically.

His comforting touch lingers on my face. “I’m never leaving again. I’m not leaving you again.” The certainty in his voice is somewhat new for him. The once unsure and timid Peeta was slaughtered in the arena. Replaced with a hardened and certain version.

Still, his softness showed through for me. Carefully wiping my tears from under my eyes, pressing comforting kisses onto the crown of my head, whispering sweet nothings to me.

I shouldn’t be the one being comforted. Just as quickly as I started, I pull myself together. “I’m okay, thank you… I’m just so relieved.” My hands clasp over his.

“Y/n.” Peeta draws my eyes up to his. The warm sun turns his blonde hair a honey gold. He takes one of my hands in his, pressing my knuckle to his lips. “Marry me.” The whisper is so quiet I almost don’t believe he said it.

I wonder if it was just a figment of my imagination. “Nothing could keep me from you. From coming home to you. Marry me. Come live with me in the Victor’s Village. We can leave our parents behind. Just have each other.”

The idea of it seems insane. Though, nothing that has happened seems sane. There’s nothing left for us here but each other. “Yes.” My answer breaks the anticipation.

Peeta smiles, a genuine smile. His eyes momentarily sparked with a familiar look of happiness. “Good. Yeah, we can… We can find someone to wed us in the back markets. We can go tonight.”

People’s eyes follow our every movement. No on speaks. The heavy silence is only broken by the loudness of their thoughts. Visible on all of their faces.

He’s a monster and she’s his muse. We watched the way he killed. I wonder how many of them noticed the look in his eyes. Fear. There wasn’t a second in that arena he wasn’t consumed by it.

Fear weaponized can be just as lethal as anger. Peeta finally stops walking, looking around at the crowds. They don’t bother to stop looking but still, no one speaks up.

“We need someone to officiate a wedding. I can give half of my meals for a month to whoever helps us.” That piques interest among the crowd. Still, it seems people were too afraid to come near us.

“I’ll do it.” Peeta whips his head around. I follow his eyes, looking behind us. At the front of the crowd is the drunken man from the train. The only other victor from 12.

“Haymitch.” They exchange a small nod of agreement. We leave as silently as we came. Eyes burning holes into my back.

“If you’re trying to do something in secret, announcing it to the public isn’t the way to go. Even if they’re a secret society.” My eyes trail across his disheveled appearance. I should probably thank him. I doubt Peeta would have gotten any gifts if he hadn’t done his job.

Wet leaves carpet the gravel road. The sound of soft rain eases the tense silence. Filling the night with the melodic sound of wet droplets falling against the wooden roofs of 12.

We don’t bother to rush. Peeta looks up at the darkened sky, letting the rain fall against his face.

The walk towards the very back of the district is long; purposely isolated from the derelict of the main town. I stare at the two rows of grand houses. They stand in almost perfect condition. Unaffected by the rot that plagues most homes.

“Come on. This one is mine.” Haymitch leads us to the second house on the right side of the courtyard. Peeta slips his rain soaked hand into mine.

We follow behind him, I pull Peeta to hurry out of the rain. As we step inside I take note of the darkness of the house. The interior is not as well kept as the exterior. The stench of alcohol consumes the sweet smell of the rain outside.

“Alright. Let’s do this over drinks. Really all you need to do to be wed is go down to the Justice Building and file the paperwork to be married. That’s going to draw a lot of attention with the cameras so go before the sunrise. But I can say a few words and give you some bread for the toasting.”

It’s traditional to do the toasting after the wedding. Though, I suppose it’s also traditional to rent an old wedding dress… And share a meal with your family. None of which we will be doing I assume.

“Yeah, that sounds good. What do you think?” Peeta breaks me from my thoughts. I turn to look at him, a warm smile on my face. “I’m ready.”

The bruises that were earlier only small red marks on his face have now started to blossom into dark shades of purple and black. The earlier glint of happiness in his eyes has since died out.

“Go sit on the couch. I’ll pour you the drinks.” Haymitch turns on his heel towards the large open room behind him. We follow as he makes his way through the house.

To our left is a large worn couch. It’s nicer than anything I have ever seen here. I let go of Peeta’s hand and rush around to sit down. My hands press into the cushions, feeling the softness below. “It’s amazing!” I whisper, turning to Peeta.

He walks around the couch and takes his place next to me. “Wow…” He fakes awe for me. I realize that he must’ve already felt things like this before…

My smile fades away into a small frown. The weight of knowing what to say to him drags me further into the cushion. This is hasty? We should take a few days for you to come out of shock? Are you ok?

None of the words even make it past my throat. Nothing is right. I’ve dreamt about the day Peeta and I were married since we were kids. Dreamt about toasting bread with him. Dreamt about how it would feel to share a home.

Now it’s all coming true under such grim circumstances. Marrying to avoid the possibility of being away from each other for more than a few minutes. Marrying to hold onto the only thing we have.

Peeta had everything ripped away from him so violently. I can’t imagine how afraid he must be. I want to reach up and tell him I can relate, that the same fear consumed me. But it’s not the same. Both fear, yes. Separate in their manifestation and origin.

Before I can fall further into the spiral of depressing thoughts, Haymitch hands me a glass of whiskey. In the dark the liquid looks completely black.

“To love.” Haymitch raises his glass. Peeta raises his as well and I follow. They both down the contents. I instead let the glass rest in my lap.

“I’m not going to make this long… I’m just going to say, you two have something special. I’ve never seen anything like what you have. Unconditional love. It’s rare so hold onto it.” Haymitch looks down at his empty glass.

“Yeah… Now you two go on and say your part.” He stands and leaves the room. My eyes trail him as he walks into the kitchen then fall back to Peeta.

“Y/n, you have been there for me since before we could talk. I have only ever known one thing and that is that I love you. That I can’t imagine a life without you… Or a death without you either.”

The last words cut through me, urging me to cry. To crawl into his embrace and cry until it pains me to continue. The way I had the day he left me.

“I love you Y/n. I would do anything for you. Anything.” His voice becomes such a low whisper the rainfall almost covers it. I fight against the tears in my eyes, stopping them at my lashes.

“I’m the luckiest man alive to get to marry you.” Haymitch rejoins us in the room. This time he brings the entire bottle of whiskey. Peeta’s hand reaches up to hold my cheek. As I close my eyes to lean into his touch, the tears fall.

His thumb wipes them away with such familiar gentleness. I’m unsure how to put into words what I feel for him. How to describe all the feelings inside me.

“Peeta…” I finally start, completely unable to hide the shake in my voice. “I will never know fear like that again. The fear of losing you.” My sobs choke me up. Peeta quickly scoops me up in a tight embrace.

I tuck my head into his collarbone, trying to contain my tears. It’s not fair for me to cry. It’s not fair for me to be comforted right now.

“I need you, Peeta. Nothing has ever been so clear to me. I need you like I need air. To be able to marry you and hold onto you… I’m never going to let you go again. I swear.”

His hand carefully caresses my hair. Every part of us is so tightly intertwined. Our lives are exactly that. Ours. Not Peeta’s life or Y/n’s life. Our life. There isn’t a memory I can think of where he isn’t there.

“The bread.” We carefully part and look over at Haymitch. “If… You’re finished.” He drops his hand with the slice of bread. “No, we’re ready.” I answer, wiping my tears onto the back of my hand.

Peeta carefully takes it, looking over at me with a small grin. Haymitch’s feet cause the floorboards to creak as he makes his way to the large fireplace in front of us. He strikes a match and tosses it in, carefully blowing to ensure the wood catches.

We leave our spot on the couch and kneel in front of the fireplace. “I have a poker.” Haymitch offers. The flames are still small, flicking in all directions. “It’s fine.” Peeta slowly sticks the bread into the fireplace. I watch as he carefully avoids the flames. It only takes a short moment for the bread to toast.

He pulls it back and passes it to me. “Be careful.” His warning pulls at my heartstrings. No one has ever cared for me the way he does. I reach my hand in, only holding a small edge of the slice.

The warmth sears my skin. Threatening to cause damage if I come any closer. The short moment drags on for a lifetime as I wait for the bread to toast. I try to conceal my wincing as I retreat my hand.

“Congratulations. You two are now unofficially married. Don’t consummate it in my house. Any of the others should be furnished.” He waves his hand at us as he takes a swing from the bottle.

I take a bite from the bread, looking at Peeta with a childish grin. It happened. In my basic leathers over a white dress and celebrating with a man I don’t know. But it happened.

Peeta takes the bread and takes his bite. That faint smile reappears on his face. Happiness through devastation. We lean in and meet in a heated kiss.

The bread falls to the floor with a dull thunk. Our arms wrap around each other to keep the other close. “Ok.” Haymitch pulls himself out of his chair and leaves us alone in the room.

The fire lights up Peeta’s face in the darkness. Despite the newfound injuries and hollowness to him, he remains my Peeta. Gentle, caring, and so full of love.

I lean back in and press another short kiss on his lips. The peacefulness of secrecy will likely be lost by sunrise tomorrow. We will face the cameras as a newlywed couple for the capital. Fed to people we’ll never know like rabbits to a fox.

But tonight no one knows but us. No one will hear the sweet nothings we will speak and no one will ruin this moment.

Tomorrow we will face the wolves. Together.

#clapton davis #josh futturman #josh hutcherson #mike schimdt x reader #fanfic #mike schmidt #peeta mellark #sean anderson #the hunger games peeta #x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #x female y/n

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