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merlinisnotover · 6 months

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Blindfold

Whumptober Day 18 tw: concussion, head injury, kidnapping

The first time Merlin awoke, it was dark.

At first, he thought it was night, but as he stirred, he realized he could hear birdsong and something was snug around his throbbing head.

As he made to reach for the binding, he found more bindings around his wrists. These, out of cold iron. He shivered but fell still when he heard footsteps approaching.

“Ah, you’re awake at last, little sorcerer.”

“Let me go,” Merlin demanded, trying to keep the fear out of his voice.

“I don’t think so. Good try, though.”

More footsteps brought the man closer until Merlin could smell his putrid breath.

“You will be worth a pretty little penny, and I intend to keep my investments secure.” He tapped Merlin’s forehead suddenly, and Merlin flinched back. The man laughed.

“At least take the blindfold off!”

“After what you pulled on my men? I don’t think so.”

What had he done to the men? Merlin couldn’t remember anything. Boots crunched in the dirt again as he walked away, leaving Merlin alone in the dark of the blindfold.

His head throbbed as he tried to remember what had happened, where the rest of the knights were, where Arthur was… but nothing came to him.

***

The second time Merlin awoke, he was being hoisted up by strong hands under his armpits.

“Put me down!” Merlin shouted, trying to wriggle out of the hold.

The only answer was a toss onto a wooden surface and the sound of a metal door closing on rusty hinges. The wagon rocked under him as the driver took his seat and the horses began to roll them away.

Where was Arthur? Was he dead? Why had he not come for him?

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut behind the cloth and tried to will away the fresh wave of nausea the wagon brought on.

***

The third time Merlin awoke, it was night. He tried to determine how long he had been in captivity but couldn’t remember anything.

Had it been hours? Days?

Weeks?

***

The fourth time Merlin awoke, he was cold.

He wished he could light a fire. But that only reminded him of the look in Arthur’s eyes when he had confessed to having magic; the look that had made his nightmares of the pyre feel imminent.

Merlin curled back in on himself and slept.

***

The fifth time Merlin awoke, he began to wonder if Arthur had left him for dead.

***

The sixth time Merlin awoke, he began to wonder if Arthur had arranged this kidnapping to rid himself of Merlin and his treachery.

***

The seventh time Merlin awoke it was to the sound of swordfighting and a familiar voice shouting orders. His head was still swimming but he struggled to sit upright, only to fall back again.

***

The eighth time Merlin awoke, he wasn’t bound anymore.

He was lying on a soft surface and, though his eyes were no longer covered, it was dark behind his eyelids.

Groaning, he tested out his hands, stretching them and feeling around for the surface.

“Merlin?”

Merlin’s eyes flew open, only to flinch back at the dim firelight backlighting the figure.

“Careful, you need time to adjust.”

“Arthur?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

Merlin reached a hand out, his eyes still closed, and Arthur clasped it tightly.

“Thought you hated me.”

“Never.”

“Thought you’d left me for dead.”

“Never, Merlin, never.” Arthur’s free hand came up to cup Merlin’s cheek and he peeked up carefully at his king, his eyes filling with tears.

“I will always come for you,” Arthur vowed.

“I betrayed you.”

“No, you didn’t. You protected yourself. You protected me. And you protected this kingdom.”

“I —”

Arthur quieted him with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry I was angry. I understand why you did what you did. And I will always come for you.”

Merlin nodded in disbelief, regretting it with a wince as his head screamed. He reached a hand up to feel the knot on his head, it felt enormous.

“It’s still so big,” he murmured.

“It will go down. It’s only been a day.”

“A day? It felt like —”

“Sleep,” Arthur murmured, tucking Merlin into the bedroll. “Tomorrow will be better.

***

The ninth time Merlin awoke, his king was wrapped around him, holding him close in his sleep.

#whumptober #angst with a happy ending #cw head injury #bbc merlin #merthur

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captain-neutrino · 2 years

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I’m not as strong as you think.

#markiplier #markiplier fanart #markiplier egos #in space with markiplier #iswm #iswm fanart #captain #captainsona #captain neutrino #art #my art #cw blood #cw head injury #KCMU

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whump-card · 10 months

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Sunless Lives: Arc 1

This is a long-form story with 36 parts and 68k words (unless I rewrite the ending again. Don't let me do that). It’s about a team working for a government agency that is tasked with hunting and capturing vampires, the Vampire Investigations Unit, or VIU (said like ‘view’).

When a captured vampire escapes and attacks researcher Simon McKenna and their team captain wants to cover it up, agents Matthew Beck and Gina Ruiz must help Simon recover alone, and in the process uncover his dark past. And that's just the first arc - things get wilder from there! This story contains elements of SA/noncon, but in this arc the worst is offscreen backstory.

Part 1: I Should Have Seen This Coming

~3130 words (A double feature! Most chapters are around half this length)

CW: Negative self-talk, anxiety, home invasion, vampire whumper, vampire feeding, attempted noncon, noncon kiss, broken bones, head injury

Next, Masterlist

~~~

They got the call while they were headed for the processing facility, the vampire in their custody.

Christian Isles, a gruff man in his 50s and their team captain, listened to his cell with a furrowed brow before twisting around in his passenger seat to announce to the three others in the van:

“Processing center is overwhelmed. Some big bust over on the north side. We’re taking him home with us for a few hours.”

Matthew Beck, the pale, husky agent in the driver’s seat, looked in the rearview at the armored vehicle following them. It contained the latest capture by their Vampire Investigation Unit - or VIU - team, Edward Finch. The vampire had fought like hell before suddenly surrendering, putting them all on edge.

“Are you sure we can hold him?” Matthew asked, “I know a previous assessment had him at grade C, but after that fight -”

“We can hold him,” Captain Isles declared, “And it won’t be for long.”

The two young women in the backseat, agents Amber Wynn and Gina Ruiz, glanced at each other. They were familiar with their captain’s ‘we’ll-do-it-ourselves’ attitude and knew that this meant they’d be awake even longer than they already had been. No other team would be called to assist.

“You gonna radio Simon about that, Cap?” Amber asked, looking back to her boss.

“Yeah, yeah,” Isles huffed, “He’s not going to like this.” He grabbed the transmitter off the dashboard and clicked it on

“McKenna, processing is backed up, we can’t take Finch there yet. We have to hold him at base until they’re ready.”

A moment of silence passed, and Matthew could hardly imagine what Simon was thinking. The whole team knew their researcher had… history, but only Captain Isles knew the full extent. Given the events of today…

“Seriously?” The response finally crackled out of the radio.

“Yeah, seriously,” Isles replied, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice, “and he’ll be completely under control. We'll take care of everything, you can just… make yourself scarce.”

“Captain, I don’t have much up-to-date information on him, are you sure our facilities can hold -”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

There was another pause, as if Simon was debating whether to add his next comment.

“He surrendered after he heard my voice on the radio. Are you sure -”

“It’s fine, McKenna!” Isles snapped, “Just hole up in your room, you don’t have to come out until he’s gone, alright?”

“Yeah… yeah,” said Simon, cowed, “Please take every precaution.”

Matthew finally butted in on his own radio. He didn’t have the guts to talk back to Isles directly, but he tried to be on Simon’s side when the Captain’s harsh nature got the better of him, as it often did with Simon.

“McKenna, we will follow every protocol, alright? You can even come and check that we’ve done everything correctly.”

“Thanks, Beck, but I’ll stay out of the way.”

Captain Isles returned the transmitter to the dash with an air of finality.

Amber leaned forward in her seat, eyes narrowed at Isles.

“Captain, I get that he’s a couple years younger than the rest of us, but telling him to go to his room is pushing it a bit, yeah?”

“He’s the only one that has a room, if any of you lived on-base I’d be sending you to your room all the time too!” Isles joked.

Amber sat back, clearly deciding to not push it further. Gina, ever the silent type, rolled her eyes at Amber, eliciting a small laugh from the other woman. Isles chose to believe it was for him.

~~~

Captain Isles radioed the armored truck, informing the final member of their team, Devon Barre, as well as the VIU truck driver, of their change of plans. When the two vehicles arrived at the VIU base - an imposing brutalist building in the heart of DC, four stories tall with subterranean levels to match - the transfer of Finch from the truck to the small cellblock went smoothly. The vampire was still mostly sedated from his initial capture.

The cellblock had four B-grade certified cells on floor -1, small metal-plated rooms outfitted with a cot and toilet each. The only points of entry were a ceiling air vent too narrow to even think about crawling through, and the heavy metal door with a small reinforced glass window.

Matthew peered in through the window at Finch, dumped unceremoniously on the cot inside. The vampire’s long limbs dangled off the thin mattress, and his previously perfect blond hair stuck up in disarray. The sight gave Matthew a sense of satisfaction - another vampire, off the streets. He jumped when Captain Isles clapped his hands together.

“Well! I know you’re all tired after chasing this scum all night, but we’re not done yet.” He scanned their group, honing in on who looked the most awake.

“Wynn, you stay here on guard.”

Amber’s shoulders slumped a little as Isles continued.

“I know, I know, but we promised to take extra precautions, right? Everyone else, go take care of your gear, shower, get some sleep. Beck, I want you back here to relieve Wynn in an hour.”

Matthew nodded.

“Yessir.”

He shot Amber a sympathetic glance as she settled onto the bench outside the cell door. She waved halfheartedly as the rest of them headed for the locker rooms. Along the way, Matthew took a detour to their team’s communications room, but found the workstation empty. Captain Isles stepped in behind him, resting a hand on Matthew’s shoulder.

“He’ll be alright, Beck. Better to give him his space, yeah?”

Matthew nodded, reluctant.

“Right.”

In the locker room, the three men peeled off their gear - sidearms, UV flashlights, and bulletproof vests - and showered. On their way out they passed by a couple agents from other teams who congratulated them on their capture. Then they headed for the bunkroom. Unlike Simon, they all had homes to go to, but Captain Isles had made it clear that they were to remain on duty in the building until Finch left their custody.

Matthew had asked both Isles and Simon about Simon’s housing situation before. He received cryptically brief answers from both of them, but he got the picture. Simon had run-ins with vampires on his previous team, back when he was a field agent, not a researcher. Some of them got away, and held a grudge. Living in the fortress that was the VIU building was his safest option. Matthew felt sorry for the guy. It couldn’t be easy, living in a basement, unable to leave, waiting for the day the final vampire on his list is captured. Not that Matthew spent a weird amount of time thinking about what Simon might be feeling. Definitely not.

Matthew did his best to get comfortable in a bunk that barely fit him and set a timer on his phone for 45 minutes. Then, unbelievably exhausted, he fell asleep almost instantly; he didn’t even have the energy to wonder what Simon would do when he could finally go outside, and whether Matthew would be there.

~~~

Matthew’s alarm ripped him away from sleep what felt like seconds later. He silenced it quickly, whispering apologies to the groaning and hissing agents nearby it had also woken up. He pulled on his boots and slipped out to the locker room to gear back up, then headed down to the cellblock.

When he arrived he found Amber asleep sitting up on the bench, her head awkwardly flopped to the side.

“Wynn!” he whisper-shouted. She jumped.

“Ss’sleep! What? Shit!” She stood up quickly, almost losing her balance. “I can’t believe I fell asleep!”

Matthew caught her arm to steady her.

“It happens, we were all exhausted. When did you fall asleep?”

“A little while after Finch woke up, I think? He started talking shit so I was trying to tune him out, and I guess I tuned him out too well.”

“He’s quiet now though, huh?” Matthew stepped over to look through the window, and froze, ice running down his spine.

“Amber.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s gone.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, then shouldered Matthew aside to look through the window.

“No, no no no…” she spun to face him, her big green eyes wide with fear.

“Matthew, he was talking about Simon. Where is he?!”

~~~

“Thanks, Beck, but I’ll stay out of the way.”

Simon waited, but no reply came. He eased back in his chair in front of the communications workstation, taking deep, controlled breaths. He relaxed his hands, and color flooded back to his light-brown skin where it had gone white at the knuckles.

He’ll be locked up. Yeah, he’ll be in the same building, but…

Simon started as Christian's - Captain Isles’ voice came through the radio again, but it wasn’t for him, he was just updating Devon and the driver in the other vehicle. Simon couldn’t listen to it any longer, he ripped off his headset and stood up sharply enough to send the chair rolling away behind him.

Childish. You’re being childish. There’s nothing to worry about.

He walked - walked, didn’t run, didn’t flee - to the elevator and pressed the call button before immediately deciding it would take too long and spinning around to take the stairs. He started down too fast before seeing someone else coming up and slowing down, putting on what he hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression and nodding at them as they passed.

God, be normal. They already think you’re weird.

His pace picked back up as he reached subfloor 3. There were two apartments down there intended to be temporary safehouses for victims. One had been converted into his permanent home. He pressed a shaking hand to the handprint reader and the door silently unlocked. Once he was inside and the door was locked again behind him, he let out a long breath into the dark. His heart slowed. He was safe. No one could get in here unless he let them.

Do what Christain says. Just stay here.

He clicked on the lights. The apartment was tiny, but it was all he needed. To his right was a couch, coffee table, and television, with a treadmill behind the couch and a short, overflowing bookcase on the far wall. To his left was a postage stamp of a kitchen. Straight ahead was the briefest of hallways leading to a bathroom and bedroom. The whole place had scratchy wall-to-wall carpeting, except for the linoleum kitchen and bathroom. This far underground there were no windows, so Simon kept a UV lamp on the desk in his bedroom and tried to read a book under it for a while every evening. He mostly ended up doomscrolling on his phone instead.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep despite being awake for over 24 hours, Simon sat on the couch and opened up his personal laptop that mostly lived on the coffee table (another prime doomscrolling location). He pulled up a VIU training lecture recording and hit play. Only ten minutes in and he could tell the instructor didn’t know what he was talking about.

That isn’t what initiations are for. That isn’t how the hierarchy works. That isn’t what they do with bloodbags at initiations, that isn’t what they did with -

He slammed the laptop shut and pressed his hands to his face.

Breathe. Breathe. (He’s probably upstairs right now) Shut up!

Clearly, he’d picked the worst possible thing to distract himself with. He turned on the television, tuning in to some inane morning talk show. No, that was a lie - the four personalities on Morning With Marissa were like family to him, he’d listen to them talk about anything - fashion, celebrity gossip, the latest kitchen appliance. On that particular morning, the subject was a new self-help book that one of them had written. As he watched, the familiar voices soothed his anxiety, and his eyelids grew heavy.

“- and I swear, two weeks! Two weeks was all it took -”

“Marissaaaa, you’re so kind!”

“Truly, folks, even if you think you don’t need this book? You do!”

“All I wanted was to record my dear mama’s advice to me when I first moved out…”

Sleep crept over Simon before he could stop it. He had hazy dreams of vampires with familiar faces selling him self-help books and overpriced blenders.

~~~

Thump-thump-thump.

Simon awoke, inhaling too sharply and coughing because of it.

“That’s all from us today, tune in tomorrow and see us-”

Thump-thump-thump.

Someone was knocking on his door. Was Christian here? Was he late for work? He’d fallen asleep on the couch again, his button-down and slacks were all wrinkled. He turned the TV off and scrambled to his feet, still half-asleep, and opened the door.

Whoever was on the other side shoved the door inwards, knocking Simon off-balance. He stumbled back, his eyes rising to meet those of Edward Finch.

Edward Finch, in his apartment, closing the door behind him.

No one could get in now.

Simon felt like the blood was draining from his body, like he’d already been bitten. He wasn’t dreaming, and he knew it. Ed’s face was too pleasant, too politely pleased, not the leering horror Simon would dream about. Something about how casual Ed looked kept Simon eerily calm.

“Ed, wh… Why are you here?” Simon asked. His voice was gravely from sleep, which covered the tremors in it.

“I came to see you, of course!” Ed declared, “My good boy.” His eyes squinted as he smiled wide, baring his fangs.

Those words snapped Simon out of his stupor.

Fucking MOVE.

He turned to sprint away into the apartment. There was a panic button behind the television, he just needed to reach it -

Simon felt hands hit his back and he was tackled to the ground, Edward on top of him. Something cracked within him on impact, and pain lanced through his ribcage in a small explosion. Ed grabbed at Simon’s hair, but it was mercifully too short for him to get a grip. Simon twisted, ribs screaming, throwing Edward off to the right, and he heard a thunk and a grunt as the vampire collided with the heavy coffee table. Simon somehow got his feet back under himself and took another desperate step towards the TV, but a cold hand wrapped around his right ankle and pulled it to the side, sending him tipping to the left. He went down and his temple slammed into the edge of the kitchen counter. The crack reverberated through this body like a lightning strike. The room warped, and he felt the floor slam into his back, his spine taking the brunt of the hit this time. A heavy weight landed on his hips, and Ed loomed over him. Simon grabbed Ed’s wrists as they descended towards him, but only succeeded in uselessly holding on as Ed clawed at his shirt, ripping it open and sending popped buttons flying. Ed twisted his arms out of Simon’s hold and pinned down Simon’s wrists in turn. Then he lunged down and bit. Hard.

Simon finally screamed. There would be no neat twin pinpricks of fangs here, Ed’s full set of teeth tore through the skin. It felt like he was actually trying to rip out a chunk of Simon’s trapezoid, not just drink his blood. Maybe he was. Simon’s legs kicked uselessly against the carpet. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. His single cry died out and he struggled to take in new air. Any and all self-defense training he’d taken had evaporated out of his skull. He could feel the blood slowly draining out of his body as his limbs weakened and his vision darkened and distorted with tears.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Not here. It’s supposed to be safe here. Chris promised…

Simon’s thoughts unraveled as staying awake and breathing became his brain’s priority.

After what Simon knew was dangerously too long, Edward unlatched. Simon heard another uncontrollable, weak noise leave his own throat when Ed’s teeth pulled out. Ed shifted to put his face nose-to-nose with Simon, dripping blood onto Simon’s open lips. There was the toothy, gloating grin that Simon would dream about.

“How about,” Edward said slowly, “We see what else we can get up to before the cavalry arrives?”

Simon tried to speak, to say anything, but he could only make shallow, sobbing breaths, and choke on the drops of blood. Edward stood, still holding Simon’s wrists, and yanked him upright. Pain burned through the bite wound and what was likely a broken rib or two, and between that and the blood loss Simon nearly passed out as Ed held him upright, switching his grip to one hand on Simon’s upper arm, confident he would receive no resistance at this point. He started pulling Simon towards the bedroom, and Simon felt a new wave of adrenaline kick in.

No. no no no no no.

Suddenly he saw it, something he could do, even in his weakened state. As he was pulled past the television, he made a controlled crash into the protruding corner of the wall where it turned into the hallway. Out of Ed’s sight, his right hand slid down the wall and hit the panic button.

Nothing happened.

Simon sobbed as Ed tugged him back upright.

“Come on, clumsy.”

Simon tried one last effort of resistance and went completely limp, but that only made Edward pull him back up and hold him with his back against Ed’s chest, one arm around him like a seatbelt. Simon quickly realized this was a far worse, and far more intimate, position to be in. He pawed at Edward’s arm, but it was useless.

“Cozy, hmm? Let’s see here…”

Guessing, Edward opened the bathroom door first. He tutted in disappointment, then opened the bedroom door.

“Here we are!... Wow, you really don’t decorate. I hate what you’ve done with the place.”

He dumped Simon onto the bed. Simon tried to kick his legs and crawl backwards, away, to put any amount of distance between them, but Edward easily pushed his knees down and climbed on top of him. He trailed a hand down Simon’s exposed chest, and the faded lines there.

“Oh, I remember these…”

CRASH!

“SIMON!”

Matthew.

Simon sucked in a full breath, finally, and bellowed, “HERE!” His voice cracked. God, he sounded stupid.

“Oh no!” Edward laughed. “Looks like we’re out of time. Here…”

He leaned down and kissed Simon on the lips. Simon jerked his head to the side, and Edward’s mouth left a long smear of blood across his face, mingling with tears. Then the vampire got up off the bed and calmly walked out into the hallway, his hands raised.

“I surrend-OOF!”

He was tackled by Matthew, quickly followed by Gina. Simon struggled up onto his elbows and watched them tussle on his hallway floor. Then he realized -

They can see you.

They’re all going to see you.

~~~

Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @angst-after-dark

#whump writing #whump #whump fic #vampire whump #whumpee #vampire feeding #vampire whumper #cw negative self-talk #cw anxiety #cw home invasion #cw attempted noncon #cw noncon kiss #cw broken bones #cw head injury #sunless lives #sunless lives arc 1 #my writing

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plutotheforgotten · 4 months

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I fell down a hill

#don’t go hiking at night #it’s actually gotten worse since I took this picture and my eye is swollen shut now #still chillin though and not really in pain so 👍#screaming into the void #cw stitches #cw head injury #my face

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mischefous · 7 months

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I'm gonna be skipping some days throughout Whumptober. I don't have ideas for some of them

Day 7 ✦ "Can you hear me?"

CW! Blood, arrow wounds, head injury

Can you tell that I like to bully Takeo😈

#whumptober 2023 #whumptober #whump art #whump cw #whumpee #whump prompt #cw head injury #cw bl00d #cw whump #shapeshifter oc #oc art #my art #oc whump #can you tell that this was the first one i started on XD #looks like shit

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bubblyernie · 11 months

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I would be damned if I can make even one OC without some sort of trauma He's full of clay, not blood, so its less gross I promise

art tag // commission info

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insomgl · 10 months

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These two

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #my art #fnaf oc #phone guy #fnaf phone guy #fnaf au #oc #fnaf mike schmidt #mike schmidt #phonemike #cw blood #cw injury #cw head injury

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faggotmox · 2 years

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"okay okay slow down, breathe for a bit" regal/mox 🥺

comfort/soothing starters || @philosophyofthedonism

RegalMox (Mox/Bryan/Regal), post-anarchy in the arena warnings: bryan’s head injury

"Okay, okay. Slow down.” Regal’s hands fought Mox’s own, trying to stop the other man and having to grab onto him. Mox’s hands worked to pulled off Regal’s digits from him, trying to force the hands away, the hands trying to slow him down. “Breathe for a bit. Jon, breathe.”

“I can’t!” Mox wasn’t even look at Regal, just past him in the direction Bryan had been carted off. “I gotta get him.” Mox’s panicked eyes finally came back to focus on Regal. A look of disbelief like he couldn’t understand why Regal, of all people, was holding him back. “We gotta--”

“We’ve got to check you out, Jon.” Regal finally had Mox’s hands held in his own, wrists crossed and pressed against his own chest. The blood that was all over Mox was now all over Regal. “Darling, please. There is very little we can do for Bryan at the moment. Once you are taken care of, my sweet thing, I will be driving us both to the hospital to be with Bryan.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Mox said over and over, his breathing started taking on the constricted quality as if he was still fighting the match. “Gotta-- need to be with Bryan. I gotta--”

“Jon, look at me. At me.” Regal took a chance letting go of Mox’s left hand so he could bring his right hand up to grip the back of Mox’s neck and hold on tight enough to force their eyes to meet. “Slow down. Breathe for a bit.”

Slowly Mox started to nod, like he finally understood what Regal was trying to do. Regal whispered sweet encouragements until their foreheads came together in the affectionate nuzzle Mox was so fond of doing. The hand on Mox’s neck stayed but had loosened and was carefully stroking from his hairline to the first notch of Mox’s bony spine. It took a long time for Mox to start breathing normally again, Regal was softly dropping a kiss here or there on Mox’s jaw until finally he came down from the panic attack.

“We’re going to get you taken care of, Jon, and then we’ll go be with Bryan.” Regal pulled back from their forehead touch, the sticky feeling of blood very much still there even though it wasn’t his blood. “Come along, sweet thing. Let’s get you taken care of.”

Regal kissed Mox’s forehead before they finally broke apart. Apart for the most part. Regal still had a guiding hand on Mox’s lower back as they walked, their stride matched, and Mox was practically pressed against Regal’s side as they walked. The match was over but Mox’s skin was still buzzing, his mind racing with thoughts of injured Bryan, and his body felt like it was still in the fight. The only grounding point was Regal.

(bonus scene)

“If I need stitches you can just slap a bandage on me instead. Gotta get to the hospital for Bryan.” Mox mumbled as Doc looked him over.

“You know that’s not how I do things.” Doc grunted as he took in Mox’s eye’s reacting to light. “You need stitches.”

“Fuck. Whatever.” Mox just barely held back rolling his eyes because he respected the Doc just enough to accept his assessment.

“Otherwise you’re fine. How’s the hamstring?” Doc reached down to check Mox’s right leg, testing the bend and pull of the muscle; Mox had a recurrent injury in the hamstring that had to be checked.

“Fine.” Mox shrugged, he wasn’t even lying. For the most part he felt fine.

“Jon.” Regal came around the bed with his phone in hand. “Thought you’d want to speak to him before his MRI.”

“Yeah. Yeah.” Mox practically jumped off the bed, his hand outstretched for the device. “Bry?” Mox asked as he felt the speaker to his (freshly cleaned) ear.

“Hey.” Bryan’s voice was slow, slightly slurred, but warm with affection. “You okay?”

“I’m not the one getting an MRI.” Mox closed his eyes and pressed a hand hard against the bridge of his nose.

“I’m alright.” Bryan was trying to sound assuring so Mox leaned into that, and Regal’s hand that rested on his shoulder. “I really am. I’ve probably got a decent head injury but I don’t think it’s bad.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a fuckin’ liar so I’m just gonna have to come see myself.” Mox’s free hand was holding the edge of the bed too tight. Regal gently squeezed Mox’s shoulder as he heard Mox’s side of the conversation. “I’m fine though. Just some stitches. The usual.”

“The usual.” Bryan laughed a little. “Yeah. A few stitches, and an MRI...the usual.”

“Yeah. That’s...yeah.” Mox had a small smile on his face but shook his head. “We’ll be there soon, babe.”

“I know you will.” Bryan sighed into the phone. There was talking on the other side. “They’re telling me to hang up so we can go in for the test.”

“Fuck. Okay.” Mox sat up some more. “It’s gonna be okay. Fuck everything else. You’re gonna be okay, Bry.”

“You said it, Mox.” Bryan agreed across the phone before saying something with the mic pressed to his shirt so it was muffled. “Okay.” Bryan came back. “I love you, Jon. Tell the big guy I love him too.”

“Will do.” Mox agreed, just before he went to hang up he spoke up again. “Don’t fuckin’ die or any of that shit before we get there, man. I’ll be pissed.”

Regal chuckled as he took the phone back, his arm pulling Mox into his side to give him a hug. Soft kiss was planted on the top of Mox’s head before they moved around so Mox could get his stitches and they could go.

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