#hyperthermia tw

[serickswrites]

Not Making Sense

Warnings: sun exposure, hyperthermia, delirium, kidnapping

Team Leader kicked down the door to the back yard. They had pinpointed Teammate One's location to this house, but couldn't find Teammate One inside. Teammate One had to be outside. They wiped the sweat from their forehead, swearing at how hot it was outside and fearing what that meant for Teammate One.

Teammate One was slumped over in the chair they had been roped to, their chin to their chest. Team Leader could see their skin was red and burned from the sun. "Teammate One, say something!" Team Leader hurried forward. No doubt Teammate One was suffering from the sun exposure, they could only hope that Teammate One wasn't too hyperthermic.

"Get....out," Teammate One muttered as they gasped for breath.

"I'm here to help you, Teammate One. Let me help you."

"NNNNNoooooooo............'et..............out." Teammate One's brow furrowed with frustration.

Team Leader frowned. Teammate One was clearly delirious and needed help. "Teammate One, it's ok, I've got you. We'll get you some water. We'll get you to the hospital. You'll be ok."

"NOOOOOO!" Teammate One shouted. "NNNNNotttt......meeeee........"

"Teammate One, you're not making any sense. Here," Team Leader scooped Teammate One into their arms and hurried into the house. They carried Teammate One into the bathroom and placed them in the tub, turning on the shower as they went, "this should help."

Teammate One shuddered and sputtered, but their hazy gaze began to clear. "Team.....Leader?"

"It's ok, you're ok."

"Whumper--"

"We'll find them later, right now my priority is you." Team Leader looked around for some towels. They needed to get Teammate One to the hospital soon.

"Not....meeee....Wh-Whumperrrrr wwwwannnn'ddddd 'mallllllest-est-est-est TTTTTTe'atttteee," Teammate One said as they grabbed Team Leader's shirt and held tightly.

Team Leader's mouth went dry. "Where is Smallest Teammate?"

Teammate One blinked heavily. "Whumper."

Team Leader tried to breathe through their panic. They had thought that Whumper only wanted to hurt Teammate One. Had only wanted to go after one person. They cursed themself for being so dumb. This was all a ruse so they could distract Team Leader long enough to kidnap Smallest Teammate. And it had worked.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

@artisticdemon @acer-whumpstuff

[whump-mania]

yo i love your whipped whimper caretaking prompts? could you do some more caretaking prompts for other random types of whump? whatever you’re feeling like, but esp wounds or hyper/hypothermia

Assorted Caretaker Lines

For sure! I’ll make some little sections for as many as I can think of:

Wounds

1. “Hold this down. It’ll stop the bleeding…for now.”

2. “Shit, I…I’ve never treated a would like this before, I-I don’t really know what I’m doing…”

3. “It’s infected. Someone get me a bottle of alcohol before this spreads to their immune system.”

4. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna close this thing right back up. You’re gonna be okay.”

5. “What do you mean, it already bled through? …Oh…shit.”

Hypothermia

1. “Jesus—is their skin supposed to feel like ice?”

2. “Whumpee…how long did they leave you outside…?”

3. “I don’t care if you’re cold, Whumpee’s gonna fucking die if they’re not warmed up! Give me your blanket!”

4. “They’re shaking like a leaf…I-I don’t know if they’re gonna be okay.”

5. “I told you not to go out in this weather, Whumpee. Don’t go risking your life for me.”

Hyperthermia

1. “I told you we needed to stop for water! Look at them now!”

2. “Whumper, please, just let them take a break. They’re gonna overheat like this. Let me go out there, I can handle it.”

3. “I know, I know. We’re gonna get you somewhere cool. Just hang in there.”

4. “Absolutely not. Your skin is hot to the touch right now, there’s no way you’re taking that punishment for me.”

5. “There’s no ice left, I’m sorry…it all melted. You’re just gonna have to sweat it out.”

Psychological

1. “Don’t listen to them. None of that was true, they’re just trying to get in your head.”

2. “Hey…Whumpee, you still with me? Hello?”

3. “Look at me. Breathe. You feel my hand? You’re here. You’re with me now, you’re okay.”

4. “They don’t have any physical scars. Whumper’s more inclined to leave…um…mental ones.”

5. “It scares me when you do that. When you…go somewhere else. In your head.”

[blueberry-gills]

Aw man I love bandwagons/j

[3mutantsinatrenchcoat]

It takes a village to raise a family part 4

Part 3 , part 5

Rural au, once again, by the amazing @angelpuns

Tw: this short contains descriptions of late stage hyperthermia and brief hints at death during a talk

My husband has 3 rules during the winter. "Wear warm clothes, don't drink or eat anything cold, and do not walk outside unless you can see light".

Well, one fine winter my husband fell sickly ill, along with my youngest. Not only where they on my mind so where the young turtles, little Leo would wander from the rest, Mikey as excited as ever to be in town, so much so his eyes where a guide that never stayed on path...little Donnie whose own body couldn't stand on its own and little raph as head strong as a bull.

The last thing I remembered before stepping into the snow storm was shoving my feet in my boots, I had no time for socks. Throwing on my coat, I had no time for layers. The slam of the door as the wind argued it's point against me, but I would not listen. I was out of medicine and time.

Then there was cold, and wind, and white everywhere. I couldn't see more than two feet ahead, we didn't have many storms in the winter.

I could barely make out lights of lanterns inside houses, stumbling as my feet sunk into the snow. At some point I remember tripping a lot, feeling like hands were grabbing at my ankles, wrapping around my boots.

I don't remember much, but I do remember hearing shouting not far from me. I remember when the cold started to warm. And then it got hotter...and hotter. My cloak was too warm, I was wearing too much. I would roast in this weather.

I remember just barely pulling off my cloak before it got snatched right back over my head, a gruff and angered voice shouting at me to keep it on. Burning hot hands touching both sides of my face. "let go-!"

I don't even think I could hear my voice clearly, but I heard his just fine. "no! You are coming inside with me!" It was a demand, no room for argument, stomping of feet and creaking of wood I knew to be a porch, a specific porch with specific creaky spots.

I remember how i barely felt being lifted, I could barely feel the shoulder I was on if it wasn't for how warm it was. I barely remember the chatter of the turtle boys.

Then, time went past with every blink.

The bright of fire, the crackling, the burning feeling.

The way the kids looked as I kicked and fought their father over a blanket, shaking and biting. The way metallic tasted on my tongue as I snagged his hand.

I would blink again and I had a cup in one hand, Mikey's in the other, Splinter pulling away snow from my fur with gloves, tossing it into a bucket that Raph watched from behind. "I know it's hot, it's okay, let it burn. I know it's burning let it burn" I could barely feel the tears that froze to my face pulling off my fur.

I would blink again and now Donnie and Leo where at another side, rambling about some book from the market, Splinter's warm hands cupped around my ears. "Pay attention to those words Flint!" A snappy voice laced with anger and fear. A demand, a protest.

And then it was as if time got slower, the boys all curled up asleep and Splinter staring at me, sitting on the floor. "...your eyes. You paying attention?"

"mm.." i barely moved my head and the room was blurring again, tears building up.

"alright...keep...keep talking to me...keep on talking.." he got up and then I felt warm on the side of my face. I couldn't help the noise that came out, or the burning hot tears that flooded out afterwards.

"I know..I know it burns.."

"augh!" It felt like I was boiling from the inside and burning from the outside, the heat from the fire, the boys and Splinter was uncomfortable..even more uncomfortable once I saw my fingers move but I couldn't feel it.

"s-splin-..splin-ta-..I- I can't-" it felt like my throat was tightening, but Splinter sat beside me and pulled me into his side. He didn't say another word, not until my crying had stopped and all I could let out was Shakey breaths.

"...you really are an idiot..." Splinter spoke, not with anger but something I've never heard in his voice before.

"wh...what?" When I turned to look at him, his eyes were lost from reality...really...glossy and sad looking.

"why did you go out...? It's storming and you are little- not only that you-..you nearly froze-"

"...my family is sick..your boys c-could have gotten sick...I-i was out of medicine.." the shame flickered inside my chest, only to be drowned out but a laugh. One of both mockery and disbelief. Eyes wide and filled with shock in this human's eyes.

"Flint, you sound like a buddy of mine..." His voice was filled with anger and mournfulness. "you know, I was a soldier..." He starts, glancing to see if I was paying attention, of course I was. I could listen to him forever.

"...we had a mission, one day. It was snowing that day, we had to rescue our medics.." He went silent, then he shook his head slightly, blinking away at some thoughts that I would never get to hear. "...they got too warm, just like you. We didn't bring back our medics"

"...I don't...i-.." it clicked and the cold that washed over was worse than anything I had felt before. The more I think about it the more I realize I barely know Splinter. He's my neighbor, I help with his kids and he built me a pump for water. We learned to cook for our family, yet we never shared stories...well. I did, Splinter didn't.

There was more to him than I would ever understand, but...for now....

I felt him jump as I put my head against his side, moving my tail to cover his hand, situated in his own lap...now that I saw it, it was soaked, and trembling..or well I was trembling...but it was nothing compared to the slump that Splinter gave. One that meant he understood the gesture.

That no matter what I would always, be here to listen.

[floortile34]

the malignant ichor of bureaucracy seeping in through my open wounds

[waytoocrispybread]

'will that be all?' asks two months pregnant man, 1 degree weather change away from running off into the woods only to be found post sockeye salmon migration floating amidst the dead bodies of the fish

[artyandink]

hyperthermia

Summary: Based on a request by @yinorathedragontamer. You needed a break from hunting, so you didn’t go on the latest one, but found you needed something to occupy your time. Just your luck that the Winchesters happened to return home when you were washing Baby, and you caught the eye of a certain someone.

A/N - Banners in use by @cafekitsune, first entry for Jensen-A-Thon!

TW: Set in S9 (so hot, scruffy Dean guys), and blatant checking out/fantasising

Want to request something? Drop a message in my ask box!

Want to join my Dean Winchester (or any other Jensen character) taglist? Go to my main master list and find the Forms link!

Dean and Sam ambled back into the bunker, duffel bags carried by their taut arms like they’d done a million times before, so what should be a bag of bricks was a feather. Dean swept his hand over his mouth while Sam’s went through his hair, both ready to crash from the wear and tear of the hunt.

“I swear, m’ready to goddamn pass out.” Dean chuckled, nails scratching over the scruff that had grown on his cheek. He’d been hit a few times - not enough to cause bruises and whatnot - hard enough to cause fatigue once the adrenaline of the fight was used and faded.

Sam could only grunt in agreement, trying to rub the effects of a long drive from Oregon out of his eyes, paired it’s the disgruntlement of having to listen to rock tracks in the car. “You and me both. But hey, we should at least visit-”

“Roger that.” Dean cut Sam off before he could finish, in search of you. You were always a sight for sore eyes after a hunt, no matter what you were dressed in or if you were covered in blood; he enjoyed the vision that you were. More than he cared to admit.

He checked your bedroom, but he only found an unusually neat bed and a clean room, which was a rare occurrence for you and had him thinking that you were kidnapped, which prompted him to take out his gun.

You never did up your bed.

He crept through the hall, hoping to the good God that his boots didn’t squeak, but then familiar humming of ‘Stairway to Heaven’ caught the attention of his ears, originating from the garage. Followed by his arrival there, where he spotted you. And it wasn’t only just the sight of you that had him standing up straight.

You, in nothing but a soaked through plaid shirt tucked into some tight denim shorts, the sleeves of the plaid rolled up to your elbows and drawing his attention to your pretty hands. Hair damp and falling just right and had him biting his lip and fighting off the urge to ruin your friendship entirely. Droplets of water running down your neck, that damn sexy curve of your slightly bent legs and trailing beneath the v-shaped neckline that the collar of your shirt made that he was starting to think was made on purpose to make him go insane.

The image was too damn sinful. And he was suddenly not so tired and ‘ready to goddamn pass out’, more like licking his lips and biting the bottom one as he folded his arms over his chest. Eyes trained on you. Yeah, not so tuckered out anymore and ready to catch the full nine.

His bed can go to hell, he wanted you pinned against the bonnet of his Baby, legs spread wide so he could fit in between and show you how much he appreciated the job well-goddamn-done. Did he mention you were washing Baby? Probably not, he was too distracted with the way your hips were swaying as you stepped to cover another part of his beloved Impala with soap suds that then trickled down your own body and made your attire that much more see through and you that much more delicious.

Holy Jesus of Nazareth, you were giving his self control a run for its money. And his self control was likely to lose the money and go bankrupt if he wasn’t distracted pronto.

Wait- but why was he objectifying you? You were doing him a solid by cleaning the other girl of his dreams, why the hell would he think about your legs like that? And your body clearly outlined by the wet, clingy material of your shirt that he was starting to feel jealous of because he wanted to be that close to you.

No. Bad Dean.

He licked his lips again, his hips shifting slightly as he fought a clearing of his throat in case it’d alert you of his presence. His mossy eyes trained so precisely on you, it’d probably let you know he was there anyway, heat radiating from his gaze.

He didn’t want to think about the curve of that pretty neck. Or the way it’d feel under his lips.

Neither did he want to think about those delicate hands - that he knew were tough as hell - holding the sponge that was lathering up his Baby. Or the way they’d feel working his - nope, too far.

Definitely not the way the shirt looked like it now had to be peeled off your skin to reveal the treasure underneath, because god-holy-damn he had managed to catch a glimpse of black lace underneath that plaid. He’d happily unwrap you like a frickin’ present and it wasn’t even Christmas for about six months.

“Damn, pretty girl.” He muttered, running a hand through his hair that was begging to let his feet walk over, grab your hip and pull you into him so he could lick up your neck to collect all the water droplets running down them. What he wouldn’t give to just pop the button on those shorts, get to his knees and work you until his tongue ached.

Right there. Right-frickin’-there. Against his Baby-

“Pretty girl? That’s what we’re calling her now?” Sam muttered into his ear with a snort, not loud enough for you to hear as you bent over Baby’s bonnet in just the right way to have Dean’s eyes sliding down to that gorgeous ass framed in those shorts that should damn well be illegal.

Dean was snapped partially out of his thoughts, left embarrassed and disgruntled and somewhat still ogling that God-blessed ass before he followed Sam through the halls, the latter of which was sporting a smug smirk. “H-Hey, I was just-”

Sam raised his hands in surrender with a small laugh, looking back to Dean knowingly. “Hey, if you wanna check out her ass, do it at your own risk.”

“I wasn’t checking out her…” Dean got an image of it again and smirked slightly, jerking his head to the side, “yeah, maybe I was, so what? Can you blame me? That thing’s-”

Sam held up a finger, shivering in borderline discomfort as his mind filled the blank. “I’m gonna TMI you before you say it.”

“I’m just sayin’, I’m a man. I have needs, where a female who’s a badass hunter and also happens to be gorgeous and also happens to live with us is concerned. And it’s worse when she’s handlin’ my Baby.” He gave Sam a sheepish grin, but the younger Winchester only shook his head in mock disapproval, grabbing the duffel with his pyjamas.

“I’m going to bed.”

“You do that.” Dean grabbed his own duffel, heading to his room which, to his luck, passed the garage and you working on the car. You managed to lock eyes with him, and you gave him a cheery wave. He returned it, and as you turned, his eyes slid down to the curve of your ass again, eyebrows pumping once as a smirk stretched his pouty lips.

“I’ll see you in my dreams, sweetheart.” He muttered before he disappeared off to his bedroom to live his fantasy.

Meanwhile, you dried your face and neck off with a chuckle, going back to your room to change into some get into some drier and more comfortable clothing with a smug smirk on your face.

You’d noticed Dean through Baby’s newly cleaned mirror that you could probably sing ‘Reflection’ from Mulan in. His eyes taking you in and licking his lips like you were the latest snack he wanted to devour. His hands itching to touch you, his mind going blank when you pushed out your ass on purpose in order to catch his attention.

That was just phase one of your multi-step plan to strip Dean Winchester of his self control where you were concerned.

“Mission accomplished.” You muttered under your breath with a giggle.

I’d really appreciate feedback, loves! Have a great day!

TAGLIST: @k-slla @hobby27

[bumblesimagines]

Ride or Die, Remember?

Request: Yes or No

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

Summary: When his life takes a swift and abrupt turn, Lip Gallagher is left feeling a storm of emotions such as heartbreak and anger. In the midst of the hurricane, he doesn't realize what's standing right in front of him.

CW/TW: Typical Shameless warnings, Karen's assault on Frank mentioned, angst(?), the best friend trope

~~~

He had to find Lip before the Gallagher took a nosedive into manslaughter territory. 

The cold nipped annoyingly at his exposed face, the viciousness of the freezing temperatures having luckily gone down with the slow arrival of spring and summer but still cold enough to give someone hyperthermia if they weren't careful. He fiddled with his fingerless gloves, clouds forming from his lips each time he huffed out some air. His legs maneuvered him down alleyways and sidewalks; be it by luck or a divine deity being merciful, he hardly had a rough time with the slippery, iced-over ground. 

(Y/N)'s eyes locked on the familiar figure crossing the street who slammed his hand into the back of a car that drove by him without slowing down or stopping, relief feeling his veins at the sight of him. Lip looked too relaxed to have heard the news of what Karen had done. Good, but it only meant (Y/N) had the horrible job of breaking it to him. He crossed the street and weaved around those bustling around the sidewalk, almost wincing when he heard Joey and his brother giggling at the bottom of the stairs when Lip stepped by them.

"Be a pal, Lip. When you and Frank get done passing around, uh, 'Daddyz Girl', why don't you send her over to our place?" Joey snickered again, his cheeks a rosy red from his laughter and the cold. (Y/N) groaned internally and slammed his shoulder against Joey's as he stepped past him, shooting the boy a withering glare. 

"Get lost." He snapped at him and watched Joey snatch the back of his little brother's hoodie with a grumble before he walked away scowling. (Y/N) licked his dry lips and turned his head upward toward Lip, a grimace forming at the dumbfounded, near puppy-eyed look on Lip's face. His best friend stared down at him from his spot on one of the steps, head tilting ever so slightly to the side.

"You have any idea what the hell he's talking about?" Lip questioned, the metal clanging beneath his boots as he slowly stepped down the stairs toward him, bits of snow flying from his shoes. (Y/N)'s eyes flickered desperately between Lip's vibrant blue ones, words heavy in his throat but his mouth refusing to form any of them for the sake of Lip's heart. The Gallaghers were a tough family but each of them had their weak points.

Besides, how the hell could you break the news about a video floating around showing their best friend's dad and crush fucking? (Y/N) certainly had no idea.

"(Y/N)..." Lip lifted his brows at him, a frown beginning to tug at his lips when the teen in front of him remained deathly silent. The suspicion seeping into his eyes only made (Y/N) wince and avert his gaze. "Who the fuck is 'Daddyz Girl'? Is it about Fiona? Is it- is it Debs? V?"

"I..." (Y/N) clamped his mouth shut and rolled his head back, releasing a low groan into the cold morning air. He stared at the gloomy gray clouds floating overhead and dropped his head back to gaze at his friend again, his hand reaching out to pluck the cigarette from between his fingers and take a deep inhale. Lip watched him closely, his brows only furrowing further. Releasing the smoke in a sigh, he pursed his lips. "It's honestly better if I... if I showed you, Lip."

It certainly hadn't been any better showing him, perhaps it'd been worse.

The agonizingly long wait for the site and video to load with Lip's face right up on the laptop's screen definitely hadn't soothed his jittering nerves. It'd nearly given him a headache when the video finally loaded and Lip's eyes almost bulged out of his head at the sight of Karen naked as the day she'd been born on his father's equally bare lap. The silence from Lip - horribly filled in with pants, moans, skin slapping on skin, and Frank's drunken mutterings - only forced (Y/N) to tear himself away from his windowsill and close the laptop before it drove him crazy. 

"That fucker." Lip snarled, and the typically calm boy (Y/N) knew was replaced with a rage-filled Gallagher. Lip shot up from the desk chair and snatched his coat, slipping it on hurriedly as he stumbled out of (Y/N)'s bedroom and practiced raced down the hallway toward the front door. He tossed it open and stomped down the porch, a gust of cold wind slipping into the house. 

"Fuck," (Y/N) hissed, almost tripping over his untied laces trying to follow his friend out the door, the cool metal of the doorknob making him flinch when he shut the door behind him. His eyes tracked Lip storming down the sidewalk and toward the Jackson house just down the street by the elevated train tracks. Shit, shit, shit. (Y/N) called out to him as he attempted to catch up. "Lip! Jesus, Lip, just- let's think about this, huh? What- What are you even going to do, Lip?"

"He fucked my girlfriend, (Y/N)! What the hell do you think I'm going to do?!" Lip snapped over his shoulder, his trembling hands curling and uncurling. (Y/N) knew Lip well enough to think of just a few things Lip was capable of, with murder as a very slim option for the otherwise Harvard-smart teenager. 

(Y/N) bit his lip "Lip, you know Karen has been fucking half the guys at school! Is she really worth being this?" He still vaguely recalled the day Karen had approached him with batted lashes and a coy smile, as well as the sullen look that fell on her face when he dismissed her with a scoff. "She's not even your girlfriend!"

Spinning around on his heel to face him, Lip snatched the collar of his hoodie and tugged him close enough for their noses to bump. "I love her." He whispered lowly, his bottom lip threatening to quiver before he released him and resumed his warpath toward the slim two-story house. Karen coincidentally stepped outside and pointedly ignored Lip's questions until she disappeared down the road with the dirty blonde staring after her hopelessly. 

His jaw clenched and his eyes scanned the area around them until they locked on one of the cars parked in an alleyway. Lip made a beeline for it and fumbled with the pockets of his coat until he pulled out a makeshift picklock to mess with the door. (Y/N) rolled his lips into his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, groaning again when he heard the soft click of the door unlocking. Fucking Steve. 

"Fuck," (Y/N) sighed heavily and dug into his pockets until he found his phone, flipping it open and dialing in the number he had memorized since he was a child. He pressed it against his ear and watched Lip get inside the car to hotwire it. His older cousin's cheery voice greeted him sweetly. "Hey, Kev? I, uh... I need you to drive down to Sheila's place. I think Lip might actually try to kill Frank. 'Kay, thanks." 

Once he hung up, he crossed the street toward the car and grabbed the door before Lip could shut it. "What are you doing, Lip? Are you going to run your pops over the second you see him? Stealing a car is one thing, using it to commit manslaughter is a whole other ballpark. Don't act stupid when you're the smartest asshole in this shitstain of a place." 

"He can't keep getting away with this bullshit, (Y/N), he can't. That good-for-nothing piece of shit..." Lip's teeth clamped down on his bottom lip, his leg bouncing furiously and hands gripping onto the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned a new shade of white. "I love her. I fucking love her and he- he-" 

"I get it, alright? I know it sucks to get your heart broken, trust me, I know." (Y/N) released a shaky sigh and rubbed his cold fingers against his forehead. "Listen, I... I just ask that you don't kill him, okay? Get in a punch or two and leave it be. I don't want to have to visit you in the same prison my old man is locked up in, alright?"

Lip let out a deep sigh. "Yeah... yeah, fine. I... I'll try not to." He muttered quietly, his rage finally simmering down and out of manslaughter territory. (Y/N)'s lips pulled back into a tight-lipped smile and he stepped away from the car to let Lip slam the door shut and pull out into the neighborhood's main road. 

Roughly fifteen minutes passed before Frank turned a corner further down the sidewalk and made his way over to the Jackson house. Once he was close enough, the car sputtered to life and sped toward him, barreling down trash cans and swerving around to catch the panicked running man until Frank slid over the hood of another car, forcing Lip to ram into the side of it. (Y/N) exhaled a sigh of relief when Kevin finally pulled up and the two quickly rushed over to the Gallaghers as Lip began to pummel his fist and feet into Frank's body.

"Come on, come on! Calm down, alright?!" Kevin shouted and leaned down to grab Lip's arms, managing to pull him off his father for a brief moment until Lip shoved him away and went in for seconds. (Y/N) quickly dove in between the two and roughly took Lip by the shoulders, digging his fingers into his jacket and pushing him back. 

"You're bleeding, Lip, come the fuck on. You fucked him up enough, okay?" Lip's chest heaved, his lips curled into a sneer and a trickle of blood slipped down the side of his head from an injury on his temple. His feet dug into the ground, hands grasping onto the sides of (Y/N)'s hoodie to push him away. "Lip."

Kevin pointed a finger at him and planted himself firmly in front of Frank. "That's enough, Lip. Listen to (Y/N) and get the fuck out of here!" 

With one final, forceful push from (Y/N), Lip relented and swung his arm around his friend's waist, allowing the teenager to guide him away from his bloody and bruised father. He remained silent on the walk back to (Y/N)'s place, only heavy panting filling the air between them. The tension in his muscles and limbs began to disappear and the storm of fury in his eyes gave way to a look of pure heartache and betrayal. (Y/N) could only pat his side and led him to his bedroom.

Lip collapsed on the bed and tiredly shrugged off his coat and gloves, blindly tossing them aside somewhere in the room. (Y/N) searched his room and bathroom, collecting some cotton balls, a bandaid, and rubbing alcohol. Hardly a proper med kit but it was all they really had in the house. He tossed the supplies on the bed and stood in front of Lip, forcing his blank stare away from the wall and onto him.

"Ready?" (Y/N) dipped his fingers into Lip's curls and gently tugged his head back. He used his free hand to unscrew the cap of the rubbing alcohol and press one cotton ball against it, giving the bottle a quick tilt to soak up the cotton before he began dabbing at the injury with a slightly crinkled nose. Lip's hands moved to rest against (Y/N)'s thighs, his fingers digging into him with each painful prick of pain that shot through his head. 

Once finished, (Y/N) wiped away at the liquid with his thumb and released Lip so he could fiddle with the bandaid. Lip dropped his forehead onto (Y/N)'s stomach, his hands beginning to inch upward ever so slowly. His fingers dipped under the hoodie, the rest of his hands pushing up the hoodie and shirt underneath to expose (Y/N)'s stomach. Lip tilted his head and pressed his lips against the bare skin, the bridge of his nose pushing up the clothes further. 

"What are you doing?" (Y/N) asked softly, freeing one of the bandaid wings and working on the other. 

"Destressing." Lip muttered against his skin, continuing to nuzzle and kiss whatever skin he could reach. His lips felt dry and cracked against him, and (Y/N) nearly squirmed when Lip swiped his tongue over his happy trail. His hand flew down to grab hold of Lip's hair again, forcing his head back and slapping the bandaid over the cut.

"We haven't done that together since seventh grade, Lip." (Y/N) reminded him with raised brows, scooping up the bloodied cotton and bandaid papers into his hand and tossing them in the small trash can by his desk. Lip's hands dropped over his lap and his lips slightly jutted out, his sharp gaze following (Y/N) around the room. 

"So? Friends get each other off all the time." Lip pointed out, his hands shooting out to grab the bottom of (Y/N)'s hoodie and drag him closer toward him, face pressing into his side again.

"And look where getting off with Karen got you, Phillip." (Y/N) wriggled around in Lip's hold and tumbled onto the bed, his back meeting the mattress and only prompting Lip to crawl over him. Despite himself, he released a breathy laugh when Lip's mouth pressed into his neck and his cool hands slipped under his hoodie. 

"This is different." Lip's voice came out muffled, his words wiping the smile off his face and making his heart twist uncomfortably. God, how he hated it. 

"'Cause you don't love me." (Y/N) breathed and moved his hands to press against Lip's shoulder blades, effectively pushing him up and off him. Lip flopped beside him onto the mattress and blinked at him, his brows twitching down into a furrow. 

"No shit I love you, (Y/N). You've been my ride-or-die since first grade. You're basically a Gallagher now." Ah, fuck, that one stung more than it needed to. (Y/N) forced out a hum of acknowledgment and inhaled sharply through his nose, his body rolling over so he could reach out and grab his cigarette pack from the nightstand. 

"Yeah, well, last I checked-" He messed with the lighter until it flickered on, taking a deep inhale once the cigarette lit. He pushed himself up against the headboard and breathed out a cloud of smoke. "-brothers don't sleep together, Lip. Besides, you said it yourself: you don't swing that way. You only like fucked up chicks who'll never like you back." 

"I don't want to fight today, (Y/N). I'm fucking serious." Lip leaned back into the pillows with a hint of a scowl on his face. "I've had a shit enough day as is."

"Whatever," (Y/N) shook his head lightly. "We can play video games until you forget about Karen and your dad and all that other bullshit, alright? But if you want to mess around with someone, it won't be with me."

"Fine."

[cultofdixon]

Huddling for warmth

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • A blizzard occurred during the harsh winter after the farm and before the prison. You and Daryl got trapped in it and things didn’t go perfectly…• ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Nudity • TW: Hyperthermia / Minor Injury / Anxiety / Scars / Illness

Requested by: Anon

When the fire happened, everything changed. It came naturally that Rick became the leader of this group but everything was icy.

Now they were starting all over in finding a place to call home…or at least a temporary shelter for the upcoming winter

“Here” Y/N shrugged off her jacket giving it to Carl for an extra layer of warmth as the weather was getting colder for winter.

“She’s going to freeze to death if she keeps giving her coats to Carl and Lori” Glenn makes the comment to Maggie after she finishes getting a fire going in a house they were holding up in for the night. Little did he know the archer was listening to such.

About an hour passed and Rick returns with a deer that Daryl obviously got. But they also went through a few homes and Daryl approached Y/N who was leaning on Carol near the fire, dropping a jacket over her shoulders and didn’t stay for her to get a word in.

But he saw the smile on her face and that caused an old familiar feeling to burn in his chest.

“The winter will get worse and we should scavenge a few places before holding up for a good month” Hershel tells Rick while looking out at the snow that started to fall.

“I’ll get Glenn, Maggie, and Carol to come check a few houses with me. You and Lori can keep an eye on the rest” Rick stated adjusting his jacket and giving Daryl a look. “Think you can hunt some more game before the weather gets thicker?”

“I’ll try but the second the tracks ain’t clear, I’m coming—-“

“You ain’t going alone. Take Y/N. She has huntin’ experience. She’s hunted with you before” True. Before Rick returned from presumed dead, Daryl went hunting with his brother and the previous hunter before the Dixons came…also known as Y/N. But she didn’t join him on the trip before he heard his brother was left on a roof.

Y/N was ahead of Daryl following tracks they’ve caught on at the edge of the tree line by the neighborhood they’re held up in. He half expected her to be a chatterbox like how she was before the barn fire. But something always had to be off.

Before he could say anything to her, she readied her hunting bow and landed the shot on the unlucky rabbit.

Opportunity “Yea ever heard of a lucky rabbit’s foot?”

“Yeah, but doesn’t it usually have like…an amethyst with it?”

“Thought it was an amulet” Daryl questioned only to get a short lived laugh out of Y/N causing a hint of a smirk on his face.

She rises to her feet with the rabbit in hand brushing the hair out of her face to look at the archer. “You want the foot?”

“Sayin’ I need some good luck?”

“Dunno. You’re the one that said it” Y/N kept a smile on her face that soon faded when the cold breeze was a bit more intense than she expected. “Hershel said winters will be bad. Just. Didn’t expect that”

What was just a breeze seemed to pick up the more they trekked along in the forest…

“Have the winters always gone from mild to extreme?”

“You aren’t originally from Georgia?” Daryl brushed his hair back when the wind blew harder than before.

“That a deal breaker?” Y/N jokes only to suddenly trip and fall into the snow that’s collected since the morning. “Jeez. Maybe I need that lucky rabbit’s foot”

The crimson in the white became clear to Daryl as he knelt down to make sure she didn’t hurt herself to a certain degree. Thankfully just a scratch from the tree root they couldn’t see in the snow, which started to concern Daryl with how the weather started to pick up the more they were out there.

“We should head back. Or try to find our way back”

“Before it gets worse?” She added while cleaning up the blood with her bandana as it’s going to have to do until they can get a better look at it. “It’s already there”

“Our foot prints got swept” Daryl frowns knowing that would likely happen. He rose to his feet helping Y/N up as he tried to take a moment to listen to the surrounding but even the wind was picking up as much as the snow fall.

It got to blizzard level pretty quick.

“This is getting bad” Y/N had to shout for Daryl to register anything, but as they continued on through the blind scenery…the sound of something moving through the snow caught both their attention until the archer turned around.

No Y/N.

Daryl’s panic started to set in because on top of not seeing his surroundings. He had zero clue on where Y/N could’ve fallen or been dragged to.

The hiss of the wind continued to throw the archer off when he followed the trail before it disappeared right away. He quickly realized when he slipped falling on his ass that she had fallen…but fallen into the river they passed before the blizzard became more prominent.

“We have to be careful, Y/N” Daryl states gesturing to the river they were currently passing when the snow started to pick up in inches.

Y/N laughs at the man. “Okay captain obvious. We aren’t going to be able to see it later if this blizzard picks up”

“Hopefully not. We’ll be fine”

But we aren’t fucking fine! Daryl thought as he carefully made his descend toward the river and while the rushing water picked up in his ears…he couldn’t hear anyone.

“Y/N!” He screams and was about to step in the water when something grabbed at his ankle.

The new instinct was to take his knife out and plunge it into the water skull, but when he knelt down it came clear.

“Holy fuck. Thought I’d have to go swimming”

“I-I-It’s a b-b-bit c-cold” Y/N coughed out a bit letting go of his person to lay in the snow like before. The moment she felt into the water, she was wide awake and knew she had to get out. But the second her soaked body met the cold harsh weather, it brought her to this semi frozen weak state. Crazy how quick the body reacts.

“Can yea move?” Daryl shouts only to ensure that she can hear him but with no response only shaking breathing he could barely hear, he brought his arms under her armpits starting to drag her to the main path out of the ditch by the riverbank. “Think warm thoughts” he kept repeating even if every fiber of her being wanted to curl up and scream.

Y/N wanted to scream when the cold only got worse for her as Daryl brought one of her arms around his shoulders.

“We need to hide out somewhere”

“F-Fast” She gripped onto him trying not to succumb to the cold making her falter in her steps.

Daryl tried his best not to stumble because of how she was. His anxiety eventually got the best of him and he didn’t care if she’d protest getting him wet given her soaked person when he picked her up bridal style to get a faster pace going.

The two ended up in a small house nowhere near the neighborhood they were originally in. There was no time to question how they even got far from where the rest of the group is. Daryl had to barricade the doors to the room they were in and try to get a fire going to help warm up Y/N as she was placed on the couch in the living room shivering.

“R-Remind me, n-n-never t-t….s-shit” Y/N groans pulling at the soaked clothes on her person wanting to take them off as she hated the uncomfortable sticky feeling. But there was more going on and it started to concern her.

And the man that was currently trying to start a fire in the fireplace knowing he might have to move Y/N closer to the fire. The second it started, Daryl rose to his feet rounding the couch and pushing it closer enough for her to feel it. But even then it didn’t work in its entirety.

“Gotta strip yea”

“W-Woah. B-Bu…Buy m-m-me dinner f-first” Y/N scoffs in a playful manner listening to the man groan before he went further into the house scavenging for anything and found a blanket he had to shake out before even thinking of wrapping Y/N in it.

Daryl set the blanket on the arm rest. “Strip. I won’t—-“

“N-Need h-he—help” She coughed slightly after and Daryl instinctively pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. She was starting to get warm and not in a good way.

“Fine but I need your—-“

“F-Fuck Daryl! I-I-It’s fine!” Y/N snapped gripping the back of the couch to get her to sit up as Daryl brought himself beside her helping her get out of the wet clothes.

Her clothes laid in a pile beside the couch as Daryl was about to straighten them out close to the fire to try and dry, Y/N pulled the blanket over her shoulders more but manage to trap Daryl by bringing herself into his lap. She couldn’t speak given once the clothes were off she was even colder. The blanket wasn’t going to instantly help and the archer had been inside for some time that the snow melted off of his person so that she could do what she was currently doing.

The archer froze when she climbed into his lap curling up against him taking in his warmth and tugging the blanket to cover every exposed bit on her person. He didn’t look at her, for a sense of privacy. Not that she cared. There was something else but now wasn’t the time. Daryl carefully wrapped his arms around her bringing her close and eventually shifting his body to lay down with her trapped between him and the couch.

“…please pull through” Daryl whispers hoping she would respond even if it’s intentions were for her not to hear. But given she hasn’t said anything in a minute, got him worrying again. “Y/N?” He shifted slightly going to check her pulse but just the smallest movement jostled her eyes to open with a glare before closing once more and hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

Y/N went in and out most of the night but her shivering stopped after a couple hours. She clung onto Daryl with a bruising grip taking in all the warmth he gave…he didn’t dare letting go for whatever reason afraid she freeze all over again.

But after being in that state for two days and her clothes dried eventually with the help of the fire…Daryl let go to help her redress keeping his focus on her actions as she fumbled trying to work the buttons of her flannel that he eventually helped her.

The archer wore his crossbow on his chest, the rabbits on his belt, and carried Y/N on his back still wrapped in the blanket on their way back to where the others were.

About halfway there, Rick and Glenn met them as they had come to a decision recently to go out and search for them once the blizzard passed…

“Is she okay?”

“She’s sick” You don’t survive freezing temperatures without a cold or flu to follow.

“Is she bit?” Glenn gestures to her ankle wrapped in bandages Daryl had.

“No, she fell. Fell once before falling into the river” Daryl states walking passed to make it to the house as the two who joined them kept an eye on their surroundings.

“You’re lucky we found some Tylenol on the run we went on when y’all went hunting” Rick states. “Should help with the fever”

“Hershel is gonna want to isolate her when we get back. Just in case—-“

“Don’t yea dare finish that, kid” Daryl snapped while pushing the door open with his foot as Rick took care of keeping it open for him to come through.

Out of instinct, Hershel rose to his feet gesturing to the other room to keep Y/N in even if it was the kitchen and Maggie laid a blanket on the floor before Daryl laid her down.

“Wish I had a thermometer to get an actual reading, but she definitely feels warm. I’m guessing you held up somewhere to try and warm her up to avoid hyperthermia” Hershel gave Daryl a look listening to him hum in response. “Well yea did good, son. Kept her from getting worse”

When she woke, Hershel got her to take some of the medicine they collected along with some water before leaving her to sleep once more. Daryl waited til the old man left the room before pushing the table in the doorway in case of emergencies. He sets his crossbow down against the wall kneeling beside her adjusting the blanket to cover her more watching her roll over to face him.

“Hey…”

“You can speak clearly now” Daryl jokes about the shivering stuttering mess she was before and that got a small laugh from her.

“Thanks for keeping me alive…” Y/N whispered shifting a bit to get comfortable on the floor as Daryl gently brushes away the hair in her face.

“Had to…I wanted to…I needed to” He whispered to her as he brought himself to sit on the floor keeping close to her watching her extend her hand from under the blanket to hold his.

Daryl stayed with her the entire time…the entire time.

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓗𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓞𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓜𝓮 ⚜

A/B/O One-Shot | Omega Vincent x Alpha John | Image Source

Summary: John is at a party in France on assignment and meets Vincent by chance. He realizes Vincent is hiding his omega status...and he's on the verge of death from an uncontrollable heat.

Mechanics of Heat in this AU: An omega can ride out a heat without doing anything as long as they’re taking blockers. This is normally a safe (if uncomfortable) option. BUT, if the blockers don’t work and it becomes too severe, it can be fatal. If it’s getting dangerous, the omega will experience hyperthermia followed by stroke. This can only be handled by either going to a hospital or…you know.

CW: omegaverse smut, unprotected sex, fever symptoms, crying during sex (from joy), and idk how to TW this exactly but Vincent has a very poor understanding of consent and doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants directly. John is careful with him anyway.

It wasn’t the worst kind of job. The worst kind of job was a job where you loved the target, and John didn’t even know the target. It was just some French woman who had double crossed Viggo. No, this was the second worst kind of job: the kind where John had to see High Table emissaries directly.

Of course, if all went well, they’d never see him. And so far, it was going well. The target was attending a victory celebration hosted in some historical estate. John had slipped in through a back entrance unseen, made his way upstairs like the shadow of death, and silently strangled her while she was refreshing her makeup. He dragged the body into a disused guest bedroom where it wouldn’t be found for hours. Not a word fell from his lips in all that time.

But still, it made him uneasy, to look down from the shadows over the banister and see the guests milling around below him, to the faint sounds of a live quartet and the scents of rich foods. That they could look so human after ordering the sort of acts that he himself had just committed…it was confusing.

Having had quite enough of that glance, he slipped out the doors to an upper balcony, prepared to scale the wall down to the gardens and make a tidy exit. It was normally locked, and sure to be deserted. One of Viggo’s associates had obtained a key for him in advance.

But it was not deserted. Someone was there.

He was clearly one of the guests and probably an important, well-to-do one at that. He wore a long, ruffled tailcoat that glittered under the waxing moon and the dim, golden lamplights flanking the door. And he was very, very sick. John knew immediately. Even if he hadn’t been leaning against the railing with his head in his hands, his scent would have given it away immediately. Something powerfully sweet, definitely the sweetest he had ever smelled. Sweeter than the gourmet pastries wafting up from downstairs, mixed with something tart. It was dulled, yes, but the fact that it was dulled and yet still coming through told him that it was strong enough to break through blockers. A severe heat.

He held his breath, trying not to inhale, but he could already feel it clawing its way inside him, going straight to the brain. This was the last thing he needed to encounter. A distraction, at the final, critical moment. He should excuse himself, before the alarm could be raised. Try to exit a different way – maybe one of the windows. But the man’s head had already turned to him sharply, revealing brilliant, honeyed green pools that shone glassy above soaring cheekbones. John met them and felt his own pupils swell. Shit.

“Que peux-tu vouloir? [What can you possibly want?]” the stranger demanded, with enough venom in his voice to break John out of the reverie for half a second.

I was just trying to get some air. I apologize. I’ll go back inside. Anything, say anything… But John seemed incapable of any response except an inappropriate level of compassion. Sweat had plastered the man’s carefully slicked hair against his forehead and set his flushed cheeks shining. It was all he could do not to step towards him. Instead, he found himself asking stupidly, “Êtes-vous d'accord? [Are you okay?]”

The man blinked at him. “Avez-vous une idée de à qui vous parlez? [Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?]”

“Non,” he said simply. His eyes fell on the man’s ring…shimmering gold on white. The insignia of the High Table. Cold dread flooded over him, but the heat washed it away just as quickly.

“Je suis le Marquis Vincent de Gramont. [I am the Marquis Vincent de Gramont.]” John could tell that this was supposed to have an effect on him, so he inclined his head deeply. It must not have been convincing, because the Marquis looked even more annoyed and changed the subject. “Je pourrais vous demander ce que vous faites en vous promenant à l’extérieur de la salle de bal. Qui es-tu? [I might ask what you’re doing wandering outside the ballroom. Who are you?]”

I’m no one. Just getting some air. Just getting some air. Just getting – “John.” Damn it.

Those honeyed eyes narrowed in understanding. And wariness. “Vous n’êtes pas censé être ici, n’est-ce pas ? Bien. Sont-ils déjà morts? Ou est-ce… moi? [You’re not supposed to be here, are you? Well. Are they dead already? Or is it…me?]” The man’s hand moved very slightly, no doubt twitching towards a concealed weapon. But John wasn’t worried. This person’s reflexes were obviously too deadened to pose a threat.

“Mort. [Dead.]”

“Hmmm.” Casual, feigning disinterest. Why isn’t he calling the guards, John wondered from somewhere deep in the haze of pheromones. After a moment, he noticed that the nobleman’s hand was still gripping the railing, knuckles white. John realized that he couldn’t stand unsupported.

“Tu ne vas pas bien. Vous êtes en chaleur. Et c'est mauvais. [You’re not okay. You’re in heat. And it’s bad.]”

Those honeyed eyes flashed narrow. With grave dignity, “Comment oses-tu. Je suis un alpha. [How dare you. I am an alpha.]”

John nearly laughed. He stifled it but the man caught it anyway and glared.

“Je suis désolé. C'est juste que… tu ne peux pas prétendre ça. Sois prudent. Si vous retournez à l’intérieur… ils le sauront. [I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re beyond pretending that. Be careful. If you go back inside…they’ll know.]”

Fear passed over his features before hardening into anger. “Vas-y et menace-moi encore. Je pourrais utiliser le soulagement du stress aujourd'hui. [Go ahead and threaten me again. I could use the stress relief today.]”

“Ce n’est pas une menace. Je ne le dirai pas. [It’s not a threat. I won’t tell.]”

“Comme c'est généreux. Non, vous ne le ferez pas, je peux vous l'assurer. J'espère que vous avez apprécié votre petite intrusion car personne ne vit pour raconter ce que vous avez vu. [How generous. No, you won’t, I can assure you. I hope you enjoyed your little intrusion because no one lives to tell about what you’ve seen.]” With that, he whipped a knife out of a concealed pocket and lunged forward. It was an energetic movement, but uncoordinated and easy to sidestep. In this weakened state, Vincent’s muscles were practically nonfunctional. John caught his wrist on the way down and plucked the knife out of it easily with the other hand, leaving the Marquis twisted up beneath him and emitting a heart wrenching, inadvertent whine. Every touch must be painful with a mixture of desire and soreness right now.

And it was painful for John too. That skin, even softer than expected and dangerously hot, the closeness of that fragrant neck pouring something like strawberry from under the collar… John released his arm, allowing him to roll over onto his back, too weak to get back up. The urge to cradle him was so overwhelming that John stumbled back against the railing, their positions reversed. He faced the gardens and inhaled deeply, trying to clean Vincent out of his lungs and failing.

When he had collected himself, he pocketed the knife and surveyed the human puddle on the floor that had just tried to stab him. He’d opened his arms and closed his eyes, laying in a dramatic, spread eagle pose with the lamplight washing over him. Center stage and breathtaking. No, not breathtaking. Breathe, I can breathe. “D'accord. Essayons autre chose. Où est ton alpha? [Okay. Let’s try something else. Where’s your alpha?]”

Vincent’s eyes snapped open. “Je n'ai pas d'alpha. Pensez-vous, dans mon travail, qu'il est logique de dépendre de quelqu'un pour de telles��� questions? Je gère. [I don’t HAVE an alpha. Do you think, in my line of work, that it makes sense to depend on someone for such…matters? I manage.]”

The opportunity screamed at him from the back of his mind until he had to actively talk himself down. Don’t say it. He doesn’t want an alpha. He doesn’t want you. Protect. Protect by staying away. John found himself backing even further away, now flattened into the dark corner where the railing met the wall. That was better anyway – if anyone passed the window, they couldn’t see him there. And they probably couldn’t see Vincent, lying down, unless they leaned right up to the windowsill. “...D'accord. Qu’utilisez-vous pour « gérer » ? Des bloqueurs? Avez-vous besoin de plus? [...Okay. What do you use to ‘manage’? Blockers? Do you need more?]”

A long moment passed. “Est-ce que tu… essaies-tu de m'aider? [Are you…are you trying to help me?]”

What was he trying to do, exactly? “Je ne peux pas te laisser ici. J'ai senti ta main. Vous êtes massivement en surchauffe. [I can’t just leave you here. I felt your hand. You’re massively overheated.]”

Vincent let out a small sound, somewhere between a scoff and a sigh. Whether it was relief or disbelief, John couldn’t tell. Finally, he started speaking, sounding utterly defeated. “Bloqueurs. Oui. Et ils ne fonctionnent pas. J'ai passé toute cette foutue chaleur en public, entouré d'alphas. Des jours maintenant… C’est hors de contrôle. [Blockers. Yes. And they’re not working. I’ve spent this entire damn heat in public, surrounded by alphas. Days now… It’s out of control.]”

“Vous devez aller à l'hôpital. [You need to go to a hospital.]”

“Ce n'est pas... ce n'est pas si grave... [It’s not…it’s not that bad…]” But with the way he immediately started shaking, John knew it was.

“Il le faut. [You have to.]”

“Je ne peux pas. Je ne peux pas sortir là-bas. Je vais mourir. Haha! Oh mon Dieu. Je vais mourir. [I can’t. I can’t walk out there. I’m going to die. Haha! Oh my god. I’m going to die.]” He didn’t seem to be talking to anyone, just sliding rapidly into hysteria.

“Hey. Non.” John’s voice had gone unnaturally gruff, even for him. It did its job and Vincent’s eyes snapped to him in obedience.

He looked away again, defying his own body, but the omega still won out in words. “Que dois-je faire? [What do I do?]”

Don’t say it. Don’t suggest ANYTHING. Be SENSIBLE. “Je pourrais… le réparer. [I could…fix it.]”

Vincent physically writhed at that thought, chest arching skyward. “NON. Va te faire foutre, non. Vous ne me tenterez PAS comme ça. [NO. Fuck you, no. You will NOT tempt me like that.]”

“D'accord, d'accord. Nous ne faisons pas ça. Je suis désolé. [Okay, okay. We’re not doing that. I’m sorry.]”

“ALORS QUE FAISONS-NOUS ? Tout ce que vous faites, c'est empirer les choses ! Tu sens le bordel fait de cuir, d'huile d'arme à feu et de viande et ARRRGGGH !! Tu es sale. Je déteste les alphas, je déteste les alphas, je déteste les alphas… [THEN WHAT ARE WE DOING? All you’re doing is making it worse! You smell like a brothel made of leather and gun oil and meat and ARRRGGGH!! You’re filthy. I hate alphas, I hate alphas, I hate alphas…]” It was an absolutely debauched display, to see this stunning nobleman in heat, writhing around on the ground, moved almost to tears of stifled lust.

No sight had ever made John want to DO something so badly in his life. “Allons juste vous rafraîchir. Enlève le manteau. [Let’s just get you cool. Take off the coat.]”

It must have been a very tempting proposition, because without arguing, he struggled to sit up and started working the coat free. But he only got onto his elbows before collapsing again in frustration. Now that pretty tailcoat was pulled down over one shoulder the way a bra strap might slip down, and to John, it was just as obscene an image as that, even though there was a soaked white dress shirt underneath, and a vest that hugged his waist...

Before he knew what he was doing, John had dropped to his knees above Vincent and was manhandling the coat off of him.

The Marquis laughed. “Alphas. Des créatures brutales et insensées. Je ne peux pas voir la détresse un seul instant sans me déchaîner. [Alphas. Brutish, mindless creatures. Can’t see distress for one instant without unleashing themselves.]” John lost composure and ripped off his vest, sending buttons clattering across the ground. “Vous voyez, aucun respect pour les belles choses de la vie. C'est un costume de qualité mais je suppose que vous ne distingueriez pas un lavalier d'un – [See, no respect for the finer things in life. This a quality suit but I suppose you wouldn’t know an ascot from a - ]”

“Arrêtez de parler. Je ne devrais même pas être ici. [Stop mouthing off. I shouldn’t even be here.]” He was working the ascot free now, and yes he did know exactly what it was. What was this guy’s problem? He was too defensive even for this embarrassing predicament. And it made him come off…vulnerable. A deep pang went through him from the pit of the neck to the stomach, longing for Vincent, and he didn’t know if it was his alpha or his soul. But he knew he liked it, in a vicious kind of way. Vincent was bringing something out of him…

“Pourquoi es-tu ici, hmm ? Tu veux tellement avoir le contrôle de quelque chose dans ta vie, petit tueur ?  « John », n'est-ce pas? [Why are you here, hmm? You want this badly to have control over something in your life, little killer?  “John,” was it?]” There was more behind that question. Confusion, at the presence of kindness.

This time he didn’t get a rise, or even an answer. John was unbuttoning his dress shirt carefully (because apparently that mattered even on the verge of death) and it took all of his attention. At the touch of the cool wind, Vincent exhaled in a mixture of gratitude and pain at the icy sting. And there he was, bare. Vincent’s skin was screaming at John by sheer sight and scent. He could see veins, collarbones…Breathe. In. Out.

“Je t'ai posé une question. Réponds-moi, alpha. Pourquoi? [I asked you a question. Answer me, alpha. Why?]”

No more buttons. Nothing to think about. Only the desperate urge to touch. John folded his hands behind his back and let his body ache deliciously, from the weight between his thighs outward. “Je voulais aider. Tu as regardé… [I wanted to help. You looked…]”

“J'ai regardé quoi? [Looked what?]”

“Précieux. Doux. Adorable. [Precious. Soft. Adorable.]” It was the wrong answer and he knew it, but he was too brain fogged looking at Vincent. It felt like being in a trance.

He blushed even more brilliantly beneath the wracking fever, and all tenderness faded from his voice. “Faible, tu veux dire. Vous avez ressenti l'appel à me contrôler. J'avais donc raison à propos de toi. [Weak, you mean. You felt the call to control me. So I was right about you.]”

“Non... ce n'est pas le cas... [No…that’s not…]” Desperate to prove his respect, he forced his legs to unbend, to start rising. Get away from him. He doesn’t want you.

Vincent’s hand caught his on the way up. “Où vas-tu? [Where are you going?]” There was terror just below the surface.

“Donner de l'espace. Je serai toujours là. [Giving space. I’ll still be here.]” Vincent’s hand slipped away and let him fade back into the shadows, where he watched in silence.

It must have been an agonizing parting for both of them. He knew it hurt, physically, to feel an alpha slip away while in heat. The omegas he’d been with had talked about a terrible, clingy loneliness, a need to be held that left every muscle aching. God, he wanted to hold Vincent. What a confusing situation.

Quietly, “Merci.”

“Bien sûr. [Of course.]” Minutes began to pass. He watched chills run through Vincent, watched him struggle to get comfortable on the hard ground and eventually hug his discarded coat against his chest, willing to take anything resembling the softness of a nest.

“Mettez-le sous vous. Pas à cause de toi. Ou vous surchaufferez davantage. [Put it under you. Not over you. Or you’ll overheat more.]”

Another irritable whine. Finally, he did. But he still couldn’t get comfortable. “Quand est-ce que cela va s’arrêter? [When will this stop?]”

“…Je ne sais pas. N'y a-t-il personne que vous puissiez appeler? Quelqu'un en qui vous avez confiance? […I don’t know. Isn’t there anyone you can call? Anyone you trust?]”

“Seuls les imbéciles font confiance à quiconque en qualité d’alpha. Et de toute façon, je ne suis pas sur le point de traverser cette fête en sentant… comme ça. [Only fools trust anyone in the capacity of an alpha. And anyway I am not about to walk through that party smelling…like this.]” His teeth were chattering with chills. He seemed to be getting worse. John wished he knew how much time they had.

“Je ne veux pas que tu meures. [I don’t want you to die.]” A flat, matter-of-fact statement.

“Comment tu sais ça ? Vous ne m'avez jamais rencontré. [How do you know that? You’ve never met me.]”

“C'est ce que je ressens. Je ne veux pas que tu meures. [It’s how I feel. I don’t want you to die.]”

Their conversation seemed to be over. A minute passed, and another. Then, “Pourquoi m'as-tu mis dans cette position ? Vous faites ça exprès. Tu es le seul alpha que j'ai jamais rencontré qui fait semblant d'être respectueux juste pour me faire supplier. C’est déroutant. [Why have you put me in this position? You’re doing this on purpose. You’re the only alpha I’ve ever met who pretends to be respectful just to make me beg. It’s confusing.]”

“Pas de mendicité. Je veux juste faire ce que tu veux. C'est tout. [No begging. I just want to do what you want. That’s all.]”

“Quelle mentalité pathétique. Il semble que vous soyez par nature servile. [What a pathetic mindset. It you're inherently servile.]” He went on muttering under his breath but John couldn’t hear it. Probably French swearing.

Not begging… John cleared his throat. “Je ne pense pas que ce soit pathétique de demander ce que l’on veut. Pour exiger ce que vous voulez. Je te veux. Que veux-tu? [I don’t think it’s pathetic to ask for what you want. To demand what you want. I want you. What do you want?]”

Vincent lifted his head enough to stare into the shadows, searching for a joke, a trick. John stepped forward enough to let the light fall on a face set with grave concern and tenderness.

“… Réparez ça. Montez-moi jusqu'à ce que ça s'arrête. […Fix this. Ride me until it stops.]”

And with that, everything John had been holding back burst forth at once. He pounced on Vincent. Belts: gone. He stripped Vincent the rest of the way down and let their contact be the only source of warmth against him.

What a warmth it was. Vincent was almost fatally overheated, but the aura of heat breathing off of his skin felt so good… All John wanted was to be buried in him. So wet too… There was slick pouring from between his legs, and his whole pelvis was red and swollen. Vincent moaned so hard when John pressed into him that he had to bite the back of his hand to avoid being heard.

“Est-ce que tu aimes ça? [Do you like that?]”

“Allez en enfer. Je – [Go to hell. I - ]” John stopped and the surrender came immediately. “Oui, oui, d'accord, j'aime ça. [Yes, yes okay I like it.]”

“Bien. Bon garçon. [Good. Good boy.]” John kissed his burning cheeks and forehead, cupped the back of his head in one hand to protect it from the hard ground. “Bon oméga [Good omega.]” Vincent’s walls contracted around him in response, a parallel of the thrill passing over the Marquis’ exultant expression. He was gasping with pleasure.

The burn in his face deepened and he buried it in John’s shoulder. “Je ne suis pas… ah… je ne suis pas un bon garçon [I’m not…ah…I’m not a good boy.]”

“Tu es. Vous êtes doué. Tu es adorable. Vous en êtes digne. Et je veux que tu vives. [You are. You’re good. You’re adorable. You’re worthy. And I want you to live.]” John rutted into him with every word, swelling rapidly. They’d knot soon, he could feel it building.

It took a second for him to realize how much he’d overwhelmed Vincent. He wasn’t just gasping against John’s shoulder anymore, he was sobbing.

John went still. “Hé. Ça va? [Hey. You okay?]”

“Ne demandez pas tout ! Je suis juste… je suis heureux. [Don’t ASK about everything! I’m just…I’m happy],” he muttered. “Alors continuez. [So keep going.]”

Happy. He’s happy because of me. He cuddled Vincent closer, locking his legs behind his hips to keep them from slipping apart for even an instant. Within moments, he was close to the knot again, waiting only for Vincent to push him over the edge.

Vincent was making soft, desperate noises into his neck, and just pulsing, throbbing rhythmically against him on all sides, milking him. He seemed to find a new wave of energy and started rolling his hips, becoming frantic. “Putain, John, j'en ai tellement besoin, j'ai besoin de plus, j'ai besoin de toi, j'ai besoin de toi ou je mourrai. [Fuck, John, I need it so badly, I need more, I need you, I need you or I’ll die.]”

“Tu m'as. Je ne laisserai rien t’arriver. C'est un lien. [You have me. I won’t let anything happen to you. It’s a bond.]” And it was. With a sense of both dread and satisfaction, he realized what was forming. “Je t'ai, Vincent. Vous êtes en sécurité. Je t'ai. J'ai… putain. [I have you, Vincent. You’re safe. I have you. I have…fuck.]” A rush of slick overwhelmed his words as Vincent came with what must have been dizzying force.

In answer, the knot hardened between them, semen flooding against Vincent’s walls, too much to fit inside him and enough to drip down their shaking legs onto the ground.

At last, they were quiet and still. Vincent’s head laid back and John kissed the tears off of his cheeks, feeling their pulses in sync deep inside the knot. This was who he wanted to be. Not the killer. Someone capable of saving a life. It occurred to John that in a few moments, this stranger would slip away. John would board a plane in the morning, and they might never see each other again.

And what was Vincent thinking about?

His eyes were closed, as long exhales left him. He looked drained by the fever and…tired. Completely tired in ways that even John didn’t understand. It was a kind of inverse of the way he didn’t understand civilians – instead of seeing a happiness that he couldn’t enter into, there was depth of misery here that demanded a companion. John stroked his hair fondly. Where did the physicality of this feeling begin and end? It felt so intimate, so intense. It couldn’t just be about the body. He wanted to be good to Vincent, to protect him. To find out what exactly he was protecting him from.

When they finally pulled apart, the heat had already started to dissipate. Vincent was shivering even more now, if that was possible. John gathered his clothes and began dressing Vincent gently, piece by piece of clothing. Vincent, meanwhile, sat on the ground, looking up at him with unreadable, soulful eyes. When they were both fully clothed again, John wrapped an arm around him and they leaned back against the wall, still concealed under the windowsill. “Que devons-nous faire maintenant ? Il y a probablement des gens qui vous recherchent. [What should we do now? There are probably people looking for you.]”

“Probablement. Mais maintenant je sens comme toi et j'ai l'air... [Probably. But now I smell like you and I look…]” He glanced down at his ruined vest and tsked.

“Viens avec moi. Je me faufilais par ici, on peut descendre le mur ensemble. [Come with me. I was sneaking out this way, we can both go down the wall together.]” John pulled out a length of climbing rope and tied it to the banister.

Vincent looked at him like he’d grown a second head. “Grimper? En bas du bâtiment ? [Climb? Down the building?]”

“Je vais vous montrer. Grimpe sur mon dos et accroche-toi à moi. [I’ll show you. Climb on my back and hold onto me.]” I don’t know what the future will bring. But hold onto me, for as long as you can.

And he did.

[141wh0re]

Red Spider Lily- Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Pairings: Body Guard!Simon Riley x Rich Bitch!Reader (f)

TW: MDNI, DDDNE, depression, suicidal ideation, anxiety, minor character death, angst, substance abuse and addiction, implied narcissism from readers dad, alcohol consumption, vomiting (not detailed, just mentioned), hyperthermia, brief wlw, NSFW thoughts, soft Simon, grumpy x grumpier trope, fun fact: don't mix MDMA with cocaine lads and lasses (can result in hyperthermia), whump, fluff.

Let me know if I missed anything in the tags <3

Word Count: 2626

Summary: Simon retires from the SAS, taking on a job for a well known real estate tycoon's daughter, serving as her sole protector until her father can find a suitable man to sell marry her off to. Yet, instead of protecting her from outside dangers, he's finding the biggest danger is herself. Simon is determined to help you escape this life that was pre-ordained for you, and cure you of your disease. Addiction.

After nearly three decades spent in the military, Simon never expected to find himself here. Stuck in a contractual agreement, protecting and ensuring the safety and well-being of a bratty young woman with a wealthy family. It was almost insulting to him, had it not been for the hefty sum of money the woman's father wired to his bank account every week.

There were a few moments he'd almost made the rash decision to quit his job completely, and allow the someone else to look after this bitchy damsel.

But there was something that kept him here, keeping a protective eye on you and a firm hand at the small of your back in crowded rooms.

Beneath all the glitz and glam, partying and binge drinking, and the drugs... Simon saw you for what you were when you were at your lowest points.

A young girl who was forced into a lonely life of luxury. A girl who lost her mother too young and wasn't sure how to cope. A girl who yearned for her father's attention while he consumed himself in work, social gatherings, and public appearances. A girl who closed herself off from the world and kept everyone at arm's length so the venomous bite of abandonment would be less impactful when those people inevitably left her. A young girl who drowned her liver in alcohol while snorting enough blow to potentially kill her every weekend.

Simon knew you needed consistency in your life with substance. He'd watched his younger brother go through this plenty, repeating a vicious cycle of pain and torment for a fleeting moment with the impostor of joy in powder form.

He also knew you resembled that of a caged bird. Lonely, isolated, and detached from the rest of the world while you awaited either your death or an arranged marriage that would benefit your father's company, and potentially cushion his pockets a tad more.

As you emerged from the master suite of the penthouse, Simon heaved a resigned sigh, seeing you dolled up for the night ahead. Luxurious, private parties and public appearances to keep your name relevant in the tabloids and medias.

He leaned against the kitchen island, large arms crossed in his black button down, rich, honey-colored eyes fixated on you, and his signature black, surgical mask in place.

"Eat. You're not going out on an empty stomach." His deep, thick accented voice demanded. He nodded towards the plate on the counter, filled with chicken risotto with truffle sauce.

You scoffed in response to his authoritative tone before obeying anyways and climbing onto the bar stool, realizing it's probably best not to piss off your body guard.

"Where's it from?" You asked in a bland tone.

"Your kitchen." he answered gruffly as he poured an electrolyte packet into a bottle of water and set it beside your plate.

"Didn't know they taught ya to cook up truffle sauce in the military," you teased in that snarky tone he felt deep hatred for. Your metaphorical mask was going up early tonight.

"It's so cute how hard you work to save me from myself every weekend, big guy. Doesn't it get tiring?" You goaded before working at the small, yet filling dish before you.

Simon ignored your attempts to rile him up, knowing good and well you were fishing for a reason to indulge in your vices tonight. If you went out in a bad mood, it was all the more reason for you to fill your nose with booger sugar, and what better way to elevate yourself than starting it in a piss-poor mood, so your high will be that much better?

"Eat." Is all he replied with, leaving no room for questions or arguments.

As the night progressed, Simon kept a watchful eye on you, taking in your every move, expression, and breath while diligently scanning your surroundings to ensure your safety.

He watched as you finished another glass of champagne that was easily worth three months rent for his studio loft downtown.

You were pleasantly buzzed as you floated about the mansion, like you owned it, being the perfect little socialite you learned to be. Simon's dark, brooding presence loomed behind you, keeping you within at least three arm's lengths at all times.

"Going to the loo," you informed Simon as you spun on the toe of your red bottoms, heels clicking against the marble floor as you sashayed in the direction of the restroom.

You didn't even have to cast a glance over your shoulder to know Simon was already following behind you, keeping his eyes dutifully trained on you and your immediate surroundings.

Once outside the bathroom, Simon knocked on the door before entering and doing a sweep of the room before allowing you to enter.

You rolled your eyes at his precautious measures as he shut the door behind you. After clicking the lock in place, you promptly relieved yourself before standing at the vanity to wash your hands, reapply your red lipstick, then pull a little pick-me-up from your clutch.

Using the compact mirror, you pulled a tampon case from your clutch, producing a small baggie of white powder from within it, and emptied the contents of the baggie onto the mirrored surface as it sat on the vanity. You shook the small tampon case to receive a small straw, then used one of your many credit cards to neatly align the powder in a straight line.

Holding a finger to your left nostril, you plugged it and inserted the end of the straw into the right nostril, hovering over the powder as you inhaled with a strong pull from your nose and lungs.

The powder irritates your nose momentarily, causing it to scrunch and sniffle as the tingles pulse through your nasal passage. Bitterness coated your taste buds as the powder dripped down the back of your throat, earning a cringe from you as you shook your head, coughing slightly to aid the phlegm in easing down your esophagus.

You promptly cleaned up and did a final once over in the mirror, adamant not to stare too long and avoid your flaws. Clammy palms idly smooth over the material of your dress, trying to ensure you look your best, and avoid the nagging feeling at the back of your mind. Your darker-self trying to rear her ugly head and steal your fleeting moments of joy, and stir up the insufferable concoction of anxiety.

Finally, you emerged from the bathroom to be greeted with the sight of Simon stood with his back to the door, his large palm clasped firmly over his wrist.

He wasn't stupid. He knew exactly what you were doing in the bathroom. Had it only been a quick stop, it would've been three minutes tops. But when you did your pick-me-ups, it took seven minutes.

He shouldn't know that, yet considering you're a relatively well-known public figure, he has to time every second you're not in his line of sight.

Simon stepped to the side, allowing you to exit the bathroom. His dark eyes gave a disapproving look as he surveyed your appearance.

"You've got a bit of sugar on your dress." He informed you, glancing down at the skirt of your black cocktail dress.

Your eyes hurriedly followed his, searching for the spot and swiping your hand over the material, earning an amused glint to flash in his normal unreadable eyes.

You groaned in annoyance once it became apparent he was messing with you, your hand quickly came up to slap his arm in defiance.

"Arse," you muttered under your breath. Simon's stoic demeanor momentarily gave way to show off a glimpse of underlying smugness.

Simon couldn't deny that you were a good looking woman, and he always found it hard to tear his gaze away from you, especially when you were a magnet for people. You had the natural ability to draw people in, even with your resting-bitch-face. Somehow, someway, everyone gravitated toward you.

It was very much the opposite of himself, all jagged edges, harsh lines with the repellent of a rabid Rottweiler. He found it fascinating on a personal level, but on a professional level, he loathed it.

He hated how people thought they could touch you, or be within three feet of you, or even the way they looked at you.

All he saw was greed, manipulation, and control. He was certain that you saw it too; he could see the faint flicker of disgust in your eyes when someone tried to cozy up to you for their own gain.

A part of Simon's heart ached to see your life full of so many people, yet none of them truly gave a shit about you. But he also knew you did it strategically, much like he had done for most of his life. Although, Simon's was done more coldly, you had a certain finesse about it. You held a sense of attainability, allowing people in just enough to keep control of, but never in deep enough for them to control you.

Behind the rich, spoiled brat, Simon marveled at the true strength and cunning you showed within this materialistic world. He could see the fox within you, calculating and sly as she was, planning her escape.

But the escape plan is what scared him. He heard every conversation you had with yourself, when you thought no one was listening.

You longed for a life without a name. Where you could fly under the radar, only keeping close to you those who truly cared. And as much as he tried to remain detached. He was concerned that one day, you'd find a remedy for that desire.. and take flight for the heavens.

Simon watched vigilantly over you as you remained perched on the outdoor couch with your group of girlfriends. His eyes never left you as your friend slipped a pill between your soft, red lips and did the tactless act of spitting her drink in your mouth to aid you in ingesting the pill.

Fuckin' hell, love. You need better friends.

He sighed inwardly, but heaved a quiet breath as he kept watch, wanting to shake his head in disappointment. But he knew you could feel his disapproving gaze prickling at your muted senses.

Your head dipped back in pleasure as your friend kissed down your neck, across your collarbones and back up to your lips. Half-lidded eyes remained trained on Simon as he stood within your sight, your eyes appreciatively raked over his form, taking in the way his muscles strained against the black fabric of his black button-down, and the way his slacks fit his tree-trunk legs perfectly.

He was a delicious sight and you were feeling ravenous, silently lusting over the man assigned to guard your life. The only man who gave a single shit about you.

Simon internally groaned, his hand clenching into fists behind his back as he watched the scene unfold before him. If he wasn't on duty right now, he'd be fucking you within an inch of your life, and make you pray to a merciless God. Himself.

You pulled yourself up from the couch on slightly unsteady legs, and sauntered over to him, only stopping in front of him once your hands were on his chest.

Simon gazed into your dilated pupils, already noticing the effects of your meeting with your little friend, Molly.

"Wanna go home," you demanded, pouting up at him.

"So soon? You looked like you were having a bit of fun." He replied in a neutral tone, keeping his aloof and disinterested persona in place.

"It's boring here," you whined, "wanna have fun. At home. With you."

"Mm, you wound me, bird. Here I thought you knew not to associate me in the same sentence as fun." He scoffed lightly, trying to keep the inflection of amusement from his tone.

He reached a large, callused hand to rest on the small of your back, acting as a stabilizer for your current state. Tingles ran up your spine as every nerve-ending desperately sought out the rest of his warm touch, igniting hot flames of desire along your spine, and pulsing directly to your rapidly slickening cunt from your heightened state.

Simon watched you closely once you were back in the safety of your home. He gauged you as you stripped off your dress carelessly, leaving it discarded on the floor, much like you had done with your heels the moment you were off the lift earlier.

He sighed as he watched you prance around the room topless, going about your business in your flimsy g-string.

"It's too bloody hot in this damn house," you whined as you adjusted the thermostat.

Your body swayed on unsteady legs, your skin glistened with intense perspiration. A wave of dizziness struck you, forcing you to lean against the wall momentarily while your heart rate soared, soft, frantic breaths escaped your lips while your vision blurred in a not so fun way.

Simon's eyes narrowed with concern before he immediately recognized your symptoms, having realized what would force this reaction out of you.

"How many lines did you do tonight?" Simon asked in a firm tone, scooping you up in his arms effortlessly, then rushed you into the bathroom.

He helped you kneel before the toilet, gathering your hair in one hand so you wouldn't have to focus on much.

"T-three," you panted out, feeling waves of nausea swell and your stomach to roil.

You retched into the toilet, firmly grasping the edges in a white-knuckle grip.

"And you only took one pill. Molly, right?" he asked with concern, gently rubbing his large palm at the center of your shoulder blades.

"Yeah," you croaked weakly before lowering your head again.

Simon grunted in frustration, yet remained vigilantly at your side, helping you through your sickness.

After a while, the vomiting finally ceased as he gently cleaned you up and propped your back against the bathtub. He quickly grabbed a washcloth and a disposable cup for mouth wash before handing it to you.

"Swish and spit in the cup, bird," he instructed while pressing the cold washcloth to your forehead, then moved it to the nape of your neck, trying to quickly cool your body down from the sudden onslaught of heat exhaustion.

You did as Simon instructed before handing it to him to dispose of. Your eyelids were hardly able to stay open, your body felt weak as if each limb was weighed down by imaginary anchors, and your skin felt like it was on fire.

Simon returned with a thermometer in hand, taking your temperature.

102 degrees.

"Fuckin' hell, bird." he murmured gruffly.

With quick efficiency, Simon collected you in his arms again, carrying you out to the oversized sectional in the living room.

You were already drifting in and out of consciousness, finding new items surrounding you each time you opened your eyes.

Simon worriedly administered an IV, a bin was placed beside the couch, cool washcloths littered across your body.

"What's all this?" you slurred nearly unintelligibly.

"Hyperthermia. Just rest. Let me take care of you," he answered in a softer tone than ever before, and had your body not been fighting for it's life, you might have caught the worry in his eyes and concern and care in his deep voice.

For several hours, Simon remained by your side, using a dropper to dispense electrolytes on your tongue, checking your temperature every hour, and gently running his fingers through your hair while you slept on the couch.

"M' gonna get you fixed up, bird... don't wanna see you like this anymore," he whispered in devotion, and pressed a tender kiss on your forehead.

| Next |

[star-keepr]

hi here's a reminder for writers

‼️MEDICAL ACCURACY IN WRITING IS VERY IMPORTANT‼️

here's a few small reminders for anyone who needs them (tw for blood and medical tools)

I am in no way a medical professional, please fact check me if any of this is incorrect; I'm just speaking from my experience and research :)

- if you get stabbed and pull the object out, you will bleed

- if you don't tend to a wound or foreign objects, it will get infected

- tourniquets should not be made from loose material unless nothing else is available‼️

- don't leave tourniquets in for hours; you will most likely cut circulation entirely and have to amputate

- hypothermia immobilizes you!! cold numbs you!!

- hyperthermia also immobilizes you!! you will want to throw up!! you will want to pass out!! you won't be able to focus on anything!!

- if you're stabbed in an important enough place (neck, heart, etc) you can bleed out in ~5 minutes

- medical issues aren't 'hot' or 'pretty', they're usually messy, unwanted, and embarrassing

- pain can make people unnecessarily short, snappy, impatient, angry, and overall just warp their personality whether they mean it or not (they normally don't)

- adrenaline can make you superhuman, but it cannot make you invincible!! if you're bleeding out, adrenaline won't magically make that go away

- a mild fever is 38°C/100.4°F. it is not severe, pain meds and a day or two of (proper) rest can fix that.

- most medical issues/emergencies can't just be "walked off" or "braved out"

- DO NOT rip the IV out of your body when you wake up!! it's in your body for a reason!!

- same goes for any other medical things attached to you. do not remove them without the help of a doctor

- needles cannot and should not be reused. the tip gets blunt and covered in all sorts of body fluids from a single injection, which is why they're usually discarded after a single use. you can get infections and screw up your blood vessels

- people who have lost limbs experience something called "phantom pain", where they feel random pain in their nonexistent limb

- losing an important body part (eye, leg, hand) takes time to adjust to!! you can't aim properly if you're not used to aiming with one eye!!

- getting punched in the nose will activate your tear ducts even if you don't mean to cry

- breaking your nose will give you black eyes in both eyes even if they were not punched

thank you for coming to my ted talk <3

[serickswrites]

Whumptober 2024

Here are all the links to prompts

Day 1: prompt: "if only we could hold on;" TW: captivity, potential drowning, rescue attempt, self sacrifice

Day 2: prompt: trust issues; TW: betrayal, stabbing, blood, wounds, trust issues, fade to black, guns, mention of murder, knife

Day 3: prompt: set up for failure, "I warned you;" TW: lies, betrayal, manipulation, captivity, restraints

Day 4: prompt: "you're still alive in my dreams;" TW: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, bleeding out, mcd, survivor's guilt, self destructive behavior, caretaker and whumpee, hurt/no comfort, grief

Day 5: prompt: healing salve; TW: self sacrifice, burns, hurt/comfort, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Day 6: prompt: "it's not my blood;" TW: kidnapping, implied torture, restraints, rescue, blood

Day 7: prompt: magic with a cost; TW: magical exhaustion, collapse, shaking, unconsciousness

Day 8: prompt: forced to stay awake; TW: captivity, restraints, non con drugging, creepy/intimate whumper

Day 9: prompt: bruises; TW: captivity, restraints, torture, rescue, bruises, caretaker and whumpee

Day 10: prompt: slurred words; TW: concussion, head injury, migraine, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort, caretaker and whumpee

Day 11: prompt: TW: captivity, restraints, torture, unconsciousness, rescue, blood, blood from the mouth, mcd, hurt/no comfort

Day 12: prompt: "just a little bit more;" TW: restraints, captivity, torture, physical violence, public humiliation, cruel whumper

Day 13: prompt: "death will do us part;" TW: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds, electrocution, escape, unclear character status, unconsciousness

Day 14: prompt: blackmail; TW: threats, betrayal, video recording, implications of noncon, black mail

Day 15: prompt: "I did good, right?" TW: blood, explosions, wounds, conditioning, living weapon whumpee, blood loss, caretaker and whumpee

Day 16: prompt: wound cleaning; TW: gunshot wound, blood, field medicine

Day 17: prompt: ruined map TW: abandonment, heat stroke, lost

Day 18: prompt: "I see what's mine and take it;" TW: black mail, trickery, bribery, cruel whumper

Day 19: prompt: one way out; TW: self sacrifice, exhaustion, magical exhaustion, unconsciousness

Day 20: prompt: giving permission to die; TW: captivity, torture, restraints, forced to watch, blood, wounds, infection, mcd

Day 21: prompt: tattoo gun; TW: pet whump, captivity, body modification, noncon body modification

Day 22: prompt: "Oh that's not good;" TW: blood, wounds, gunshot wound, bleeding, hospital reference

Day 23: prompts: public display, "I'm doing this for you;" TW: captivity, torture, restraints, self sacrifice, blood, wounds, threat of death, mcd, public display, betrayal

Day 24: prompt: equipment failure; TW: captivity, restraints, gag, electrocution, unconsciousness

Day 25: prompt: "It's for your own good;" TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, medication, unconsciousness, passing out, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Day 26: prompt: parting words regret; TW: captivity, torture, restraints, self sacrifice, forced to watch, drowning, mcd

Day 27: prompt: muzzled; TW: captivity, restraints, muzzle, torture, defiant whumpee, sensory deprivation

Day 28: prompt: exposure; TW: sun exposure, hyperthermia, delirium, kidnapping

Day 29: prompt: "Who said you could rest?" TW: collar, whipping, blood, bruises, pet whump, cruel whumper

Day 30: prompt: "What have I done?" TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, referenced conditioning, relapse, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, caretaker and whumpee

Day 31: prompt: "I'm alive, I'm just not well;" TW: rescue, captivity, torture, broken bones, blood, bruises, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hospital

Tags: @whumptober

@mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[mha-quotes-and-such]

ok so i was thinking of quirk drawbacks and... i came up with a list 👀

TWs: mentions of eating disorder, body dysphoria, cramps

aoyama - stomach cramps

mina - burns

tsu - stomach cramps/hibernation

iida - leg cramps

uraraka - motion sickness

ojiro - tail cramps

denki - short circuit/memory loss

kirishima - everything hurts

koda - not being able to use his voice

sato - out of energy

shoji - arm cramps

jiro - overstimulation/hearing loss

sero - tape gets stuck / arm cramps

tokoyami - exhaustion

todoroki - hyperthermia/hypothermia

hagakure - vision impairment

bakugo - hearing loss

midoriya - muscles cramps / paralyzation?

shinso (because we dont like mineta) - overstimulation/voice loss

momo - exhaustion / (TW) eating disorder

aizawa - passing out

mic - hearing loss / voice loss

midnight - exhuastion

tamaki - (TW) eating disorder

mirio - (TW) body dysphoria

nejire - body cramps

toga - (TW) body dysphoria

dabi - burns

shigaraki - scars

twice - overstimulation / exhaustion

compress - hand cramps

I think these make a lot of sense! Ive also heard the headcanons of Bakugou have nerve damage/reduced sensitivity in his hands, and Kirishima having dry/itchy skin, which I really like too

[sunflower1experiment]

Slight Crasona x Jimmy moment

TW// Suicide mention and death also mental illness. (And yes saying someone walking around unstable is a form of ableism that Crasona (and her family) needed to learn to not say)

(The ableism part is sorta what I went through because my dad said those words and Crasona saying that it reminds them of their own dad and they realize how badly they’ve been acting like him and their mother when it came to Anya’s mental state. This is how flawed they are. And its my way of showing Crasona at their worst in writing because this is their worst and this form of behavior is not okay. Its my way of spreading awareness, don’t ever repeat that either)

“I don’t get it, you hate me yet you’re willing to help me?”

A deep voice chuckles as Jimmy complains, “I never said I hated you, you initiated that idea when I denied your autograph. Frankly, I don’t see why you decided to hand me that magazine….you don’t know the backstory behind it.”

Jimmy shrugs, “Why should I care?”

“Exactly. You don’t….” He stays silent after Crasona makes that remark, they look at the sunset and Jimmy speaks. “It looks nice I guess….”

“Sure, and I’m in a rom com…” Crasona sits up, and he begrudgingly apologizes. “….Sorry.”

“…..Sure Jimmy, so why are you here?” Jimmy stays silent, “Curly offered me a job her ya know? So I took it. I was struggling and shit gets hard…you wouldn’t understand. You used to be a model, and now ya work in this dump-“

“Jimmy, I never wanted to be a damn model, my parents made me and I simply went with it since I was sixteen…do you realize how dangerous that is?” Crasona groans, “I shouldn’t even be telling you this, thats what psych evals are for! And you, take them seriously! Otherwise you’ll be wandering around here mentally unstable!”

They didn’t realize how harsh they sounded until Jimmy looked bristled and hurt, the woman pauses…

Relaxes their shoulders then hold his hand slightly, “I’m sorry.”

He leans into them without thinking, so they sit there. And let Jimmy relax on their lap, “…..It’s hard, I’m trying to do better. I fucked up…”

“……You shouldn’t be telling me this..”

Jimmy’s vision grows hazy, now lying on Crasona’s cold lap. He hugs the hyperthermia remaining crewmate, “I know…I know…”

He weakly sobs, the sound of a gunshot goes off.

Curly’s shaky eye remains on Crasona’s cold form and Jimmy’s now dead body.

—

Do Crasona and Jimmy like each other?

Naur, do they find a way to bond post crash? Sorta….(in Jimmy’s delusions)

Pre crash they never bonded and Crasona avoids him. Post crash he is afraid of them because their smile is uncanny.

They spend time with Anya mostly because Anya reminds Crasona of a nurse they used to adore. The nurse passed away due to a sickness, Crasona grew depressed and wore a veil for about six years. (This was before Crasona stopped modeling), they also spend time with Daisuke because he reminds them of their little brother. (Whom is older now)

Curly? Well…they do but they get angry at him because he keeps letting Jimmy’s goofy self tag along and it makes Crasona’s smile tweak out.

Swansea, man…Swansea and them talk smack and then talk about his kiddos or Crasona gives him advice about Daisuke.

[just-horrible-things]

Story: Mina and Marten [Next]

[My own take on Whumpers-R-Us, the Box Boys™, and YouTube whump. I have a bunch of ideas, but this might be kind of slow burn, so let’s see how far I get, I guess.]

---

Unboxing - HUGE SURPRISE!!!

“Hi all, and welcome as always to my channel!

“I got a huge surprise this morning! I think I’m still in shock, haha! You might notice that this video’s a bit rough around the edges. I’m sorry about that, peeps, but I haven’t had time to edit properly and I just had to get this out to you ayy-sap!

“First all, I guess I have to say a huge thank you to whoever sent me this morning’s surprise. You know who you are! Now, uh, well, I’ve got a few reservations, because, well, this is kind of a crazy thing to buy for someone without any warning or, like... asking first? But I know these things are crazy expensive, so I guess I should be pretty grateful! I’d never be able to afford it myself -

“Actually, I’m kinda worried about the upkeep! I’m gonna have to lean pretty heavily on all my wonderful Patreon supporters - names at the end, like usual - and maybe cut back on some of my big buys. But then again, I know these things are all the rage right now, so maybe this’ll bring in the new subscribers, fingers crossed!

“But anyway, that’s enough teasing, haha! I know you peeps are dying to see my surprise, so let’s get to it. Again, I’m sorry about the kind of rough quality, but you’ll see pretty soon why I was in such a hurry!”

[Cut to handheld footage of Mina in her pajamas, with wide eyes and a slightly strained grin. She is hurrying down the stairs as she speaks to the camera.]

“Oh my god.”

“Oh my god, what do I even say! This is going to be one hell of an unboxing! Oh my god. Just- just look at this!”

[The camera rotates to show a large wooden crate branded Whumpees-R-Us]

“I can’t believe there’s a human person in there! Oh my god. Should I get the good cameras? I can’t get this up the stairs. No, I’d better get started right away! Sorry peeps, you’re gonna have to keep watching through my phone! Let me just...”

[The view shakes and swings around, then stabilises to show a good angle on Mina and the box.]

“So I grabbed the craft knife and the scissors while I was upstairs, so let���s get started!”

[Mina cuts away the straps holding the box closed, and carefully lifts the lid to peek inside. She glances round, and lifts it away altogether to show the camera.]

“I guess this layer is all the paperwork? We don’t care about that right now though, so I’m just gonna toss this aside.”

[Mina removes several plastic-sealed documents from the box and tosses them out of the camera’s view. She removes a cardboard divider and sets it aside, then begins removing handfuls of packing material.]

“Oh! Ohmygod I just touched skin. Oh wow, oh my god, you guys do not know how weird this is! I guess I’d better get him out of here pronto - is it a him? Oh my god I don’t even know! Who sends this kind of thing?”

[Mina leans over the edge of the crate to take the product under the arms and lift. The product is limp, head hanging, but takes a deep breath as its mouth clears the packing material.]

“Oh wow, you’re so light! I was scared I wasn’t gonna be able to lift you, but I guess they got me a little one - like me, huh? It sure would be weird to be smaller than, um. Wow.

“Ohh, what’s this? Hang on, lemme just show the camera...”

[Mina shuffles sideways, turning the product so that the camera can see the quick-start instructions taped to its chest. The product whimpers softly, head flopping against Mina’s torso.]

“Quick Start. Oh, I guess I better read this bit. Let me just lean you back like this so I can read your instructions... Back in two ticks, peeps, you don’t wanna watch me stumble over this!”

[The video cuts forwards. The product is still in the box, leaning back against the side of the crate. Mina is crouched down beside it, and has placed a glass of water on the floor nearby.]

“Okay, so, I gotta get this hood off first... the instructions say it’s to keep them calm during transit? I don’t really get how that works, but I suppose I’ll have to read the manual later. Wow, this is a lot of clips and clasps and stuff. Hold on peeps, you’d think I’d be good at this by now, but noooo... They sure know their fasteners, haha!

“There we go, let’s just eeease this off - haha, I guess you count as fragiles! Oh wow. You’re gonna need a bath! First impressions, sweet viewers, is this: my new, uh, Box Boy smells sweat-y. I guess that’s my fault for taking so long to get up and check the mail this morning!

“Alright, hun, let’s show your pretty face to the camera... Actually, scratch that, I’ll go get the camera. Uh.”

[The video cuts to a closer view of the flushed and shivering product. Mina’s face is out of view, but her hands are visible as she lifts the product’s head and tries to hold the glass of water to their lips.]

“Hey, hey, hun, are you awake in there? You gotta drink this, your instructions say so.

“Oh- oh no-! Don’t drown-!

“Uh. Um. Oh, oh sugar. Is he broken? Did I leave him too long, is he gonna die? What do I do, he isn’t drinking!

“Hang in there, I’m just gonna check the internet a minute.”

[Another cut. Mina is now holding the edge of a wet tea towel against the product’s mouth.]

“Okay, so, uh. I looked this up, and the internet says if you can’t get a person to drink - or, I guess, a Box Boy - you should do this. So, uh, I don’t know how long this is gonna take, but I guess I’ll be here a while.

“Oh, oh did you catch that! He moved, look, he moved his lips, I think he’s swallowing. Oh, poor sweetie. I hope you’ve got a good view from there, peeps...”

[Several more clips play, from various angles, of the product sucking water weakly from the wet tea towel. Eventually its eyes open.]

“Oh! Oh, you’re awake! Woah, easy there!

[The product convulses as it attempts to sit up, then lies still, watching Mina.]

“That’s right. You want some more water, hun? Can you drink from the glass yet? Oh, I’m so glad, I thought you were gonna die...”

[Mina holds the glass of water so that the product can drink. When the glass is empty, the camera pans around the product’s face briefly to show it from all angles.]

“Alright, okay, um. Um. So, the next thing I’ve gotta do is take him to the bathroom, so I’m gonna turn you peeps off for a bit. No one wants to see that, haha! Oh my god, do I have to take him every time he needs to pee? I sure hope not! Wow, uh, well! This has been quite the unboxing so far, I’m sure I’ll be back with you shortly!”

[Cut back to Mina in her studio.]

“So as you can see, I got a bit worried there for a while, but don’t worry, he’s in good condition! I got him all cleaned up, he did his, um, business, drank a whole lot more water, and then went straight to sleep. The instructions say I should get him to eat within twelve hours, but he didn’t seem to want to, so I guess I’ll wake him up and try again later.

“He’s pretty cute sleeping! Take a look!”

[A brief shot of the product asleep. It is stretched out supine on Mina’s bed, atop the pillow. Its eyes are closed and its face is slack.]

“I’ve got some footage of the rest of the unboxing too, but the angles are pretty bad and, um, I’m afraid there’s no sound. I might have been a little bit panicky, and I’m sorry peeps, but I’m too embarrassed to share! You can watch me unfold him and try to get him up the stairs right after I say thank you to all my supporters!

“I’ll be uploading this pretty much as soon as I’m done recording because oh my god, how often do you get a surprise like this! But I’ll try to make up for it with lots more footage once he wakes up. I’m gonna set up the good cameras, right after I take a look at all the paperwork. I’m gonna need a wider angle than usual, so I guess you’ll be seeing a lot more of my room, haha!

“As always, I wanna thank every single one of you, but especially...”

[Next]