#language whump

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

Whumper screaming in Whumpee's face, demanding an answer in a language Whumpee barely understands.

[wollemi-whump]

Hi there, fellow military whump comrade! What kind of military whump are you more into? Please tell us some of your favorite military tropes!!

hello military whump comrade!!!

i like a lot of military whump tropes!

one of my favorites is definitely language barriers. i love when two characters are trying so hard to communicate without the aid of a common language, especially if those people are enemies. i love the frantic hand gestures. i love characters doing their best to appear harmless. i love characters being forced to follow unknown orders in a language they dont understand. i love characters trying to establish a tentative peace with only their actions.

that sort of leads me into one of my other favorite tropes which is enemy caretakers. i made a post about this one. language barriers between a whumpee and an enemy caretaker is one of my absolute favorite things in military whump (A Midnight Clear is a great movie for this)

some other tropes i really love are medic whumpee, shellshock and/or ptsd, and forced labor (Land of Mine is a VERY good movie with this)

thanks for the ask!!! :)

[whump-tr0pes]

Soup for the Sick

@badthingshappenbingo

Red X for posted, white X for requested! Send in your requests! If you don’t see a prompt here that you already requested, please send it again!

Lux in Tenebris masterlist here

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 of a (no longer little) arc of Dee having a fever

This comes about a month or so into the First Recovery arc.

Contents: sickfic, demon whumpee, delirium, nonsexual nudity, bathing, dehumanization, language whump, misunderstanding whump, begging, past torture, spoonfeeding

~

“And I thought I was a heavy sleeper,” Ilya said in a weak attempt at humor. It was better than letting the worry eat them alive in silence.

Dara helped brace the demon upright in the tub as Ilya gently towel dried his short-cropped hair. The demon was limp in her arms, and Ilya wasn’t sure if it was unconscious or just completely lost within his own mind. His eyes lazed under his half-closed lids and he was completely slumped over in the empty tub, the only movement of his body coming from his incessant shivering. Still, at least he was clean, and soon he would be dry.

Dara grimaced as Dee’s head lolled back onto her shoulder and a patch of the demon’s hair sizzled against her exposed cheek. She was clad from the neck down in long sleeves and pants and leather gloves, but they still had to be so careful. The smell of sulfur and burning hair filled the bathroom. The demon let out a plaintive whimper and curled away from Dara’s arms.

“Shh, Dee,” Ilya whispered, taking his hands in theirs. “It’s okay, you’re safe—”

“It’ll feel safe a lot sooner if we dry it off and—”

“Dara,” Ilya snapped, ignoring their better judgment. “They’re the ones who called him it, it’s probably not making him feeling any safer if you—”

“Apologies,” Dara said stiffly. The demon in her arms stirred, whimpered again. Ilya met her eyes and saw real penitence there. “Truly. It’s a habit I have cultivated over… well, let’s say millennia doesn’t cover it. I’m trying to remember.”

Ilya bit their lip and looked down at the towel crumpled in their hands. They swallowed hard and carefully dried the demon’s chest, his arms, his back. They made quick work of drying the rest of him, trying to keep their eyes averted as best they could.

Dee moaned softly as Dara gathered him into her arms. Gooseflesh rippled over his skin as he pulled away, eyes still half-open, brows pulled together in foggy confusion. Ilya understood why – Dara emitted no body heat. Instead, she absorbed heat from the air around her and exhaled cool breath. Being held by her, fevered and naked and still damp, must feel unbearably cold.

“M-misericordia, potestates,” Dee croaked.

Ilya looked to Dara. “What—” They fell silent when they saw a muscle standing out in her jaw.

“Ego sum amicus, Dee,” Dara whispered, her breath ruffling his damp hair. He shivered again and opened sightless eyes, whimpering softly. The sound echoed pitifully off the tiles.

“Shh,” Ilya murmured. Their stomach lurched as tears rolled down Dee’s cheeks.

“Let’s just get him into bed,” Dara said through her teeth. “No use letting him freeze. I think he’s beyond us explaining any of this to him. He’s tapped out.”

Ilya nodded, hand darting out to help as Dara effortlessly lifted Dee in her arms. As she passed them, Dee’s fingers trailed behind, as if he was reaching back towards them. When Ilya’s fingers brushed his, he flinched.

∴

With Dee bathed and with fresh sheets on the bed, the room didn’t smell so much like sickness. Dara laid Dee gently in the bed, being careful not to let his head loll and brush her neck. Ilya helped her prop him up on the pillows, although Ilya doubted he could eat anything.

Still. It had been days and days since he’d eaten a single thing, and that frightened them. Perhaps the soup Evangeline had made would help him feel better.

Once Dee was settled on the bed, Evangeline sat next to him with the bowl of soup she had brought from the kitchen and scooped a bit of it onto the spoon. Ilya’s mouth watered at the aroma – they’d barely eaten in days, either. Still, as Evangeline held the spoon to Dee’s lips, Ilya and Dara watching her on either side like anxious sentinels, something in Ilya’s chest ached.

The spoon gently touched Dee’s mouth. Dee flinched and shied away, blinking rapidly. He made a broken, confused sound in his throat, not even seeming to see the angel in front of him.

“N-non,” he rasped. “Obsecro, non. Flagello me, vet…” Silent tears streamed down his face. “…sed obsecro non aqua sancta.”

Evangeline slowly lowered the spoon as Dara blew out a hissing breath through her nose.

“Do you think those unholy fuckers ever let him have anything that wasn’t spiked with holy water?” Dara said through her teeth.

“It would appear not,” Evangeline said, her placid tone belying the fury beneath. The spoon trembled in her hand.

Ilya stepped forward. “Let me see if it would help if I…” They moved to take the bowl from Evangeline’s hands. “Let me see.”

Evangeline passed the bowl to Ilya and let them take her spot on the bed. “Sometimes I wonder how much our presence hurts rather than harms,” she muttered. Louder, she said, “Especially the way it – I mean he – is now, perhaps we’re just making things… worse for him?”

Ilya wet their lips as they gathered a spoonful of the thin broth. It smelled of spices and onions and beef, and their traitor stomach rumbled. Still, they gripped the spoon and brought it to Dee’s lips. “Dee,” they said softly. “It’s alright. It’s… it’s soup. Not holy water. I promise. Will you give it a try? Dee?”

The demon’s eyes fluttered, as if opening them was taking a gargantuan effort that he could barely manage. Encouraged, Ilya help the spoon against Dee’s lips, hoping he would notice the taste of the soup and forget to expect the burn of holy water.

Dee whimpered, but opened his mouth obediently. Ilya hated themself for what they must look like to the demon: another tormentor, pouring holy water into his mouth. Dee swallowed weakly and cried out in anticipation of the pain.

Ilya drew in a tight breath, then another. Fogged, slitted eyes moved under half-closed lids. Dee’s fingers tightened in the sheets as if he was bracing for the blow that surely must have been coming instead of the holy water.

“It’s okay, Dee,” Ilya whispered. They reached out with their free hand and gently stroked Dee’s fist. “No more pain. We’re just trying to get you feeling better.”

Slowly, slowly, fevered eyes settled on Ilya. Dee’s lips trembled as he made a small, broken noise in his throat. “Bene facis,” he breathed. “Enim misericordia.”

Ilya glanced at Dara and Evangeline for a translation.

“I think he gets that you aren’t here to hurt him,” Dara said, voice husky. She nodded at Evangeline. “Now… I think it might be for the best if we leave him alone. While he’s in this state of mind, at least. He seems to do better when we’re not here.”

Ilya nodded jerkily.

“Once he’s been fed, though,” Evangeline cut in, “Come get us. We’ll take over watching him so you can sleep.”

The exhaustion nearly claimed Ilya then. They nodded again and loaded the spoon with more broth. “Yeah,” they said distractedly. “Sounds good.” This time, when they held it to Dee’s lips, he took the bite almost eagerly.

Translation of the Latin lines here:

“Mercy, powers,” Dee croaked.

…

“I am a friend, Dee,” Dara whispered, her breath ruffling his damp hair. He shivered again and opened sightless eyes, whimpering softly. The sound echoed pitifully off the tiles.

…

“N-no,” he rasped. “Please, no. Whip me, or…” Silent tears streamed down his face. “…but please not the holy water.”

…

Slowly, slowly, fevered eyes settled on Ilya. Dee’s lips trembled as he made a small, broken noise in his throat. “Thank you,” he breathed. “For mercy.”

Continued here

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[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

I

love

using

language

in

whump

thinking about a whumpee being socially isolated from their rescuers/caretakers by a language barrier. like even as their physical wounds heal, they can't actually have a conversation with anyone. not only can they not talk about and process what happened to them, they can't socialize in even the most basic ways.

[spirit-whump]

You want to hurt that character because you hate them. I want to hurt that character because I love them. We are not the same.

[benevolenterrancy]

✧Not My Art!✧

This was all drawn by @clj-art-blog for my "lay your wager (down to sleep)" series and I honestly can't stop fawning over them? They're so pretty? And feels so visceral? The emotions in them all just sweep me away, seriously the body language is something else ;^; Thank you so much for putting so much love into drawing something inspired by my writing this is insanely cool????

Anyway, she has very kindly given me permission to post her pictures so I can force other people to also look at them and admire them 人´∀｀)

[katabay]

THE JETSET LIFE IS GONNA KILL YOU, ERIC CARTER!

my laptop charger uhhhhhh. met its end in a very permanent, very fire hazardy kind of way last week. while waiting for a replacement I decided to try and get some work done at the library and was asking around for some urban fantasy (extra points for a mystery plot of some kind) recommendations to check out while I was there

the eric carter series was mentioned a couple of times, AND had the added bonus of having a necromancer for a main character. I love necromancers. someday I'm gonna play one in a game instead of immediately defaulting to vampires.

Fire Season, Stephen Blackmoore

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

we need more language barriers in whump because it's so fucking good no matter if you use it for whumper and whumpee or whumpee and caretaker or especially carewhumper and whumpee or any combination!!!!

Whumpee not being able to know what the fuck is going on no matter how many times they ask, only being manhandled into various situations because they don't understand how to comply with whatever is being told to them (gently or not is up to you >:3c)

Having to rely on tones and facial expressions to get a vague sense of what the other person is trying to get across, despite all the repetition of sounds and slow pronunciations and childish gesturing

Those little moments where a word just finally clicks for someone, the one piece of common ground, even if they can't fully repeat it back due to an accent that maybe earns them an amused chuckle or a scowl

Endless frustration and exploding so many pent up feelings for a rant that falls on deaf ears, because why is this so hard to comprehend, why can't you just understand my words, why do I feel like such a fucking idiot??? And what do they get in return? Silence...or more foreign gibberish.

Not bothering to keep quiet about their thoughts, agreeable or otherwise, vulgar or polite -- what does it matter? No one is going to understand a lick of it, they can say whatever the hell they want (unless maybe someone does catch a couple words or phrases hmmm)

Whumpers using sweet coos and nice smiles while saying the most awful shit. Caretakers being endlessly patient in trying to foster some kind of trust and feasible communication. Carewhumpers being stern and hands on because there's no time to waste in getting Whumpee to grasp what they need from them.

The longer they're in each others company, the more quirks and micro expressions they start to pick up, long before they ever fully understand a word of what's being said, including when someone is lying or when a nerve has been struck

Realizing which words mean "bad thing" and which words mean "good thing"

[just-another-mess-in-a-dress]

I can't stop thinking about that one time that I was studying abroad and I had the WORST cold of my life and I took my temperature and burst into tears because it was 102 and I didn't know how to translate that into Celsius (I was so delirious I didn't remember that automatic thermometers can like... just switch to Celsius for you) and also I couldn't remember how to say "I'm sick" in my host language and just... all the potential of this scenario guys I am rattling the bars of my enclosure

[bltzgore]

Currently fixating on caretaker who's not all human letting their voice drop as dark and monstrous as they can. They make unflinching eye contact with whumper, and with all the vitriol and burning rage in their body tell whumper, "Don't you fucking touch them."

It is not a warning, not even a command. It is a promise.

[mirrorballmusing]

how awful a fate it is, to be the one that survives.

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

The Middle of Nowhere (Part 4)

Fandom: Top Gun, Top Gun: Maverick, dark!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, dark!Jake "Hangman" Seresin, Reader (no relationships)

Summary: As the hunt begins, you try to make it back to town before one of your captors can carry out their murderous plan. But it isn't long until one of them finds you...

Word Count: 6037

TW: NOT ALL TWS MAY BE MENTIONED SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! Language, Hunted for Sport, Knives, Blood, Reader has hair long enough to grab, Reader's POV

Notes: I am EXTREMELY proud and excited about this series and hope you enjoy! Huge thanks to @green-socks for the beta read and to @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, and @blue-aconite for all the constant love, and encouragement in my DMs 💕

Series Masterlist

The freshly fallen snow stretches for miles in all directions. Your head is still pounding where Rooster drove his elbow into it but at least your vision has mostly returned to normal. Now that you have left the clearing with its electric lanterns, your eyes begin to adjust to the natural lighting around you. Luckily—or maybe not so luckily—the moon is nearly full and reflecting off the snow around you, allowing you to avoid crashing into the trees directly in front of you. That doesn’t stop branches from snagging on your jacket or underbrush from scratching at your bare legs and feet and you still can’t see more than a few feet in front of you, but you are trying to find any positives in your current situation.

Who are you kidding—there’s nothing positive about your current situation.

You’ve been drugged, assaulted, stripped down, and are being forced to flee from a pair of psycho killers who plan on murdering you in ways you can’t possibly even fathom. All while you’re barefoot and wearing a jacket that stands out so starkly against the snow that it might as well be a neon sign saying “come and get me”. 

But on top of all that, the worst part is that there’s no way to cover your tracks as you go. The snow is several inches deep and with every step you take, you sink into the soft powder leaving a clear imprint behind that either of the men chasing you can easily follow. You could try to take the time to cover your tracks, but that’s much easier said than done, and even in the best-case scenario, it would still be noticeable something had disturbed the snow. Besides, it would just stall your escape, allowing them to get closer, and it would further numb your already frozen hands as you dug through the snow.

So, no. Continuing forward is the only slim chance you have of making it to safety and out of your captors’ clutches. 

The only slight advantage you may have over them is that neither man seemed too familiar or comfortable in the snowy terrain. You, on the other hand, have lived in this area your entire life. Hell, you’ve been coming out to these woods for as long as you can remember. That has to count for something, right? Maybe under normal conditions it would, but between the lingering effect of the drugs they used on you, the throbbing in your head from Rooster’s blow, the burning pain in your hands and feet, and the cold making it difficult to even breathe, you aren’t able to navigate as easily as normal. So once again, whatever upper hand you might have come up with is snatched away from you.

Even knowing it is a useless endeavor, you still refuse to give up without some sort of a fight. So, with your hands jammed deep within your jacket’s pockets and your hood pulled as tightly around your face as possible, you continue to run forward in a straight line as you try to think up some way to fight back.

You aren’t sure how far you’ve gotten or how long you’ve been running, but you freeze as you hear something from the direction you had run from. The voice echoes around the barren woods and you manage to make out the last few words. “—run. Hangman’s coming.”

Shit. It seems as though your head start is over and the hunt has officially begun.

The fact you are still close enough to the clearing to be able to hear Hangman’s whoop of excitement sends a shiver through you—one not caused by the cold. While you’d much rather deal with Hangman than Rooster every time, escape or evasion from both men is still your ultimate goal. If only you had a weapon or some sort of protection against the two heavily armed men. But they must have emptied your jacket pockets before handing it over and your tank top and boy shorts barely provide any protection from the cold, let alone anything that could be used against your pursuers. For now, your only chance is to keep running and hope, by some miracle, you can evade them. 

As you run, time seems to stand still. You feel as if you are on a treadmill, running as fast as you can yet remaining in one place. You have no idea how long it has been since you took off from the clearing, but everything looks the same. The same towering trees and bushes reaching out from the darkness towards you, the moonlight only seemingly illuminating a few dozen feet in front of you at one time. The same unmarked snow stinging your feet as you sink into it with every step, a troublesome numbness spreading from your little toes across to the others. The same silence enveloping you, the only sound breaking it is the sound of your panting and chattering teeth. 

But then…another sound breaks the silence.

There is a soft whoosh from behind you seconds before something drives itself into your left shoulder. You collapse into the snow with a cry of pain, twisting around to see a long, thin knife jutting from your shoulder blade. Luckily, your coat managed to deflect most of the damage, but you can still feel hot blood oozing down your back, leaving a warm trail in its wake.

As you reach for the knife, wincing as another bolt of pain shoots through your shoulder, a voice calls out from the dark maze of trees, “If you thought my dart skills were impressive, darlin’, just wait ‘til you get a taste of what I can do with a blade.”

You hear another whoosh and you just have time to roll sideways as another knife lodges in the snow, exactly where your knee had been seconds ago. The move had saved you from being incapacitated, but the quick jostling causes the knife still in your shoulder to sway violently back and forth and you are forced to bite your lip to keep from wailing. The taste of copper fills your mouth, but you would rather bite through your tongue than give Hangman the satisfaction of hearing you scream. 

You take a deep breath before yanking the knife out of your shoulder with a stifled moan. 

Flexing your hand, you’re relieved to see the knife didn’t seem to cause any nerve or mobility damage. You didn’t need another thing to add to your growing list of disadvantages. 

Grabbing the second knife as you heave yourself to your feet, you spin around brandishing both knives in front of you. Hangman is close enough to nail you with a knife, but he is still far enough away to remain cloaked in darkness. This means the next attack could come from any direction, and, if you’re not careful, it could be deadly.

“You know,” the voice calls out to you from your left and you swiftly turn towards the sound. “I was so sure Rooster would find you first. I haven’t seen him this set on winning a hunt since we found a girl outside of Boston who looked like his ex-girlfriend. Oof, the things he did to her that night. Even I got a little nauseous. So I can only imagine the look on his face when he walks up and sees me on top of you, slowly carving you up or having more fun like we did back at the bar.” 

You shutter as you recall the feeling of his tongue in your mouth back before you knew what a psycho he was. His voice continues to taunt you from the darkness. “Or, better yet, I want to watch his face as he stumbles on your corpse hanging from one of these trees. Remind him exactly why they call me Hangman.”

“You sick fuck,” you cry, still brandishing your knives in the direction of his voice. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because we enjoy it.” His voice now comes from your right and you nearly trip over your frozen feet as you face it. “Because we can. Because there’s nothing better in this world than snatching someone like you and dropping them into a place like this where they don’t stand a chance. It’s the natural order of things that humans have either forgotten or hidden away because we’ve been told it’s wrong. But what is more right than a predator hunting its prey?”

Panting slightly, causing large puffs of your breath to bloom in front of your face, you call out, “This is where you made your mistake, dickhead. I’m not your timid ‘little fox’ who you threw into an unfamiliar arena. Around here, we’re raised in these woods. Taught to hunt almost before we can walk. So if you think I’m gonna just lay down without a fight, you’re about to be sorely disappointed.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you’ve got me all wrong.” You whirl around, knives raised, to face the sound of his voice behind you. “I don’t want you to give up or give in. I’m ready for a fight. That’s what makes this fun.” 

With that last word, another knife shoots out at you from the darkness. You have just enough time to dive backwards before it passes over you, inches from your face. But before you can scamper back to your feet, Hangman is charging out of the woods towards you. As he reaches you, knife raised, you thrust your feet up, driving them into his stomach. Using his forward momentum, you flip him over your head and he ends up on his back gasping in the snow. The knife he had been holding in his hand disappears into the snow somewhere to the left but far enough away he can’t reach it.

As Hangman continues to struggle to catch his breath behind you, you scamper to your feet. Grinning as you approach your would-be attacker, you chuckle, “And my ex said those self-defense classes were a load of bull.” With your hands resting on your knees as you peer down at him, you ask Hangman in a cloying voice, “How’s those solar plexus feeling? Little winded there, buddy?”

He glares up at you with murder burning in his eyes but even as he struggles to sit up, he’s helpless until he has a moment to collect himself. That thought only makes your grin grow wider. 

Stepping over his waist, you sit down—hard—on his stomach, causing him to let out another oof as the air is knocked out of him once again. Pressing the knives he had previously thrown at you against either side of his neck, you drop the smile as you growl, “Now listen, you fucker. I’m not like you. I haven’t enjoyed a second of any of this and I’m not the kind of person who likes hurting others—even pieces of shit psycho murderers like you. So, I’m going to walk away from here and you’re not going to follow me. In fact, you’re going to go find your psychotic friend and you’re both going to get back in your truck and drive the fuck out of my life forever. And for that small gesture of human decency, I won’t turn you in to the cops when I reach town. We all just go about our lives like this never happened and you never come after me again. Do we have a deal?”

“What if I say no?” he pants, the murderous glint in his eyes suddenly taking on a more mischievous gleam to it. “You said it yourself, you’re no killer. So what’s your plan if I decide I’ll take my chances against you? You really think you can plunge those things into me? Watch the life fade from my eyes as my blood soaks onto your hands? That’s a stain you’ll never be able to wash out. Me? I’d bathe in blood every day if I got the chance. But can you live with that stain on your hands for the rest of your life?”

“Considering it meant I lived through this nightmare you put me through, I think I’d be fine. But should we test that theory?” You press the tips of the blades deeper into his neck and you feel him flinch beneath you. The movement is slight and he maintains a blank expression, but that little, involuntary motion is enough to boost your confidence in your plan. Seems you are making your point. “Besides, I said I don’t like hurting people, not that I wouldn’t. Believe me, if it comes down to either you or me, I’ll choose me every time. But I’d rather not kill anyone if I have another option. So, what do you say? You let me walk away or you get skewered with your own knives? Your choice.”

Hangman glares at you for a long time and you can almost see his mind at work trying to figure out another way out of this. But when you drive the knives in deeper, blood trickling down his neck into the white snow, he snarls, “Alright! I’ll let you go. But I can’t make any promises about Rooster. Once he starts a hunt, there’s no stopping him until he’s tasted blood.”

You consider this for a moment then nod. “Fine. But he said the rules are that if I make it to town, I’m free. Right? So that means he’ll have to stop then.”

Hangman hesitates. “Yeah, those are the rules. But…”

“But what?”

“But it’s never happened before. No one’s ever made it to safety so I don’t know what he would actually do if you make it back to town before he catches you. Technically, he’s supposed to let you go but I wouldn’t be surprised if he snuck into your apartment a few days from now and slit your throat while you slept.”

Pressing the knives further into his skin, you growl, “How the fuck do you know I live in an apartment?”

“Your driver’s license was in your wallet,” he grunts, squirming under the pressure of the blades. “It’s one of the first things we look at. The anonymity of a random victim is more fun, but we have to make sure your disappearance wasn’t going to be noticed before we could leave town. So, we did a little research while you were still unconscious.”

Which means they probably know everything about you. Your real name, your address, your social media which means your friends and family. Even if you escape, there’s nothing stopping them from biding their time then returning to finish the job. However, none of that matters if you can’t survive the night.

You know this is a horrible idea. There is nothing to stop Hangman from coming after you the moment you remove the knives from his neck beside his word. And considering he’s a lying, psychotic serial killer, there’s very little doubt he’ll do just that the moment you let your guard down. But what else can you do? You think what you said to Hangman is true and you could kill him if it came down to it, but there is still a lingering doubt in the back of your mind. 

You had been hunting many times with your dad growing up and had killed your share of smaller animals before. But killing a squirrel and killing a person were two very different things. If you try yet fail and Hangman sees you can’t go through with it, then you lose any leverage you currently have which means there’s nothing left to stop him from overpowering and killing you. 

Then, there’s Rooster. Even if Hangman does hold up his side of your deal, you know deep down Rooster won’t. He was practically coming in his pants at the thought of all the unthinkable things he was going to do to you if he got his hands on you—and that was before you seemingly broke his nose. After that, there’s no way he’ll agree to let you go as long as you are still in the woods. And while you may have gotten lucky with Hangman and gotten the upper hand, you doubt you’d be able to recreate that feat with Rooster. Not when all he can think about is mutilating and murdering you. But maybe it would slow him down if he finds his friend and Hangman explains what happened. Maybe it would give you just enough time to reach town before he got his hands on you. Then there would be nothing stopping you from going back on your part of the deal and heading straight to the police station so these two could be stopped before they could finish their hunt.

Yet that unlikely plan hinged on Hangman truly agreeing to let you go which put you right back to the issue of not being able to trust him not to kill you.

Suddenly, you remember the noose he showed you back at camp he kept tied around his belt. Dropping one of your knives, you reach down and begin blindly reaching for the rope with one hand as the other still holds the knife to Hangman’s throat.

He chuckles as your hand brushes against something that is definitely not the rope. “Whoah there, sweetheart. If that’s what you wanted, I’d have given it to you back at the bar. All you had to do was ask.”

“Shut up, you perverted bastard,” you mutter as you continue to fumble around his belt. Your fingers finally brush against something thin and coarse and, instinctually, you glance down to confirm you located your target.

It is a dire mistake.

Instantly, Hangman thrusts up and slams his head into yours. The knife you had pressed against his throat cuts a thin line across his skin, drawing blood, but isn’t deep enough to slow him down. His forehead drives into yours and the world goes black for a second as your head snaps backward, the knife flying from your grasp. You feel yourself fall back into the snow as Hangman climbs to his feet. By the time your vision begins to return to normal—though your head is once again throbbing in pain—he is standing over you in a similar gloating stance as to how you leered down at his prone body moments before, blood streaming down the side of his neck.

As a malicious grin slowly spreads across his face, Hangman holds up the rope. “Was this what you were looking for? Well, sweetheart, if you want it so badly, who am I to say no.”

Winding back his arm, he throws the noose end of the rope high into the air where it arches perfectly before soaring over a limb of a nearby tree and dropping back down just within his reach. It is the kind of throw only a trained athlete could pull off and, especially given his physique, it wouldn’t surprise you if you learned Hangman had played some form of pro sports at some point in his life. He also has the ego for it.

You try to crawl away from him across the frozen ground, but the world still hasn’t completely cleared and you slip and crash back into the snow. As you prop yourself up on your forearms once more, you feel yourself yanked to your feet as a hand grabs a fistful of your hair. A ripping, burning feeling tears at your scalp as you struggle in Hangman’s grasp, but it’s too strong. Tears sting your eyes in the frosty air as he begins dragging you on your stomach over to the limb where the noose swings ominously. 

It’s over. You had your chance to put down your attacker and you pussied out. Now he is going to kill you and there’s nothing else you can do to stop him. You wonder if anyone will ever find your body or if everyone will always just wonder where you disappeared. Maybe one day there will be an episode of 20/20 or a True Crime documentary on the bartender who just vanished one night after her shift and the theories of what might have happened to her. That makes you wonder how many of those shows or stories you’ve seen over the years were actually caused by these two and their group of psychopathic killers. 

Hangman releases his hold on your hair when he reaches his noose causing you to faceplant into the snow. You want to just lay there and just let the cold embrace of the snowbank take you, but of course, Hangman isn’t that generous. His foot drives into your side, kicking up slightly so it flips you over onto your back. Groaning, you clutch at your aching ribs but he isn’t giving you a moment of relief. He learned from his previous mistake. 

Grabbing the noose, he pulls it over until he is standing over you with it swinging in his hand. Grinning, he tugs on the knots as he stares down at you. “You know, I planned on drawing this out and making it really satisfying for me. But seeing how you weren’t a fan of my knives—or maybe enjoyed them a little too much—” he gestures to his neck where blood is still freely flowing from the slash you put there “—I think it’s time to move on to the grand finale, don’t you think? It’s my favorite part after all.”

On your back looking up at him, you try to scuttle away as he leans down to slip the noose over your neck. He lunges at you but you pull your legs away just in time to avoid his grasp. As you continue to crawl away, you notice the other side of the rope that is dangling from the limb is slowly unfurling and all the slack is getting pulled up into the tree as Hangman drags the noose along with him. In a moment, it’ll all slip up out of his reach or even all the way off the limb. The smallest smile flashes across your face at the realization.

Hangman must have noticed because his brow furrows for a moment before he looks over his shoulder. In doing so, he unconsciously pulls on the noose as his body turns and the rope jumps another few inches into the air. 

Hangman’s eyes grow wide as he mutters, “No, no, no, no.” 

Releasing the noose end, Hangman leaps up just as the other end of the rope goes soaring past. He just manages to snag the end of the rope between two fingers before it is out of reach. Then he crashes back to the ground.

Seeing your chance, you snatch the noose as it begins to rise up into the tree and, bounding forward, tackle Hangman just as he is sitting back up. He flails underneath you and one of his fists collides with your jaw, snapping your head back. You can taste blood as it begins pooling in your mouth, but you ignore it and the pain. Instead, you weave between Hangman’s continued flailing limbs and, just as he raises up to snarl at you, you slip the noose over his head. The action surprises him enough that he pauses for a few seconds as he processes what just happened.

But that’s all the time you need.

Grabbing the other end of the rope, you heave with every ounce of energy you have left. Hangman is a muscular guy, but somehow your efforts manage to tighten the noose around his neck, causing his eyes to widen in surprise. As he claws at the rope, you heave again, practically dragging yourself across the snow to get the needed leverage. The rope moves a little further and Hangman is lifted off the ground. It’s not much, but it’s enough that you can see he is struggling to breathe. Not wanting to make the mistake of underestimating him again, you give the rope one final pull. Given the energy you expended on the first few pulls, it was a much weaker effort, but it does the job. Hangman’s full body weight is now suspended by the rope.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood into the pure snow, you tie off your end of the rope on a nearby limb. After ensuring it won’t give him any slack, you take a few steps closer to where Hangman is thrashing on his rope. Grinning at the sight of his face growing redder and redder, you lock eyes with him and sneer, “Turns out, I’m really enjoying this grand finale after all. It’s my favorite part too.”

His lips move as he tries to snarl something back at you, but the rope around his neck is making it difficult for him to manage much more than some grunts and rasps. As his breathing begins to grow more frantic and strained, you see a shadow of fear pass over his face as his fate begins to become clearer to him. It is a sight that warms your entire body despite the frigid environment around you. 

Stepping forward so you are as close as possible while still just out of his reach, you murmur, “What you’re feeling right now, that fear and helplessness? That dread of knowing what’s about to happen yet knowing there’s nothing you can do to stop it? That’s what all those women felt while they hung there while you got your rocks off. And I gotta say, I questioned whether or not I’d really be able to kill you. But now that it’s happening, I’ve never seen a more satisfying sight.”

Almost all the fight has gone out of Hangman as he weakly wheezes and meekly pulls at the rope. His eyes have become bloody as the blood vessels burst from all his straining and his face is so red it's almost purple. 

No longer afraid of the man who had beat, stabbed, and almost murdered you, you step closer until your face is nearly touching his chest. Looking up at his face swaying above you, you put all the fury, all the pain, all the fear you’ve felt over the past few hours into your words as you hiss, “I hope in whatever Hell I’m sending you to that you’re forced to relive this moment for all eternity.”

If Hangman heard or understood you, he makes no sign of it. Instead, it seems as if all his remaining energy is focused on getting out his last word or words. Even as you watch the last sparks of life flickering out, his lips continue to move as if trying to say something even as his chest begins to spasm due to lack of air. 

And, just as you think he’s done, he manages to force out a single breathy word that is only decipherable because you are practically pressed against him. 

“Bra-Bradley…”

Then his hands drop from his neck as his entire body goes slack and the woods fall silent. 

You stand looking up at him for a long time, holding your breath in anticipation of one last jump scare or resurgence. But this isn’t a movie. The evil is gone and Hangman’s not coming back for more. 

As the realization that it’s really over finally washes over you, you stumble back and collapse to the ground. All the fear and adrenaline that had kept you going since that first knife struck you in the shoulder, suddenly vanishes. 

For the first time, you feel the full impact of the injuries you’ve sustained. Your shoulder cries out from all the strain you’ve put on it, all with a stab wound still bleeding down your back. You just now notice how your tank top clings to your skin from all the blood and sweat that has soaked into it. Your jaw throbs from where Hangman’s fist collided with it, and you can tell it’ll be swollen and bruised in an hour or so. At least you have plenty of snow to press against it. Your scalp still stings from where Hangman pulled you across the ground by your hair and you really hope he didn’t make a bald spot somewhere. But it’s your ribs that hurt the most. It’s doubtful they are broken, probably just bruised, yet each breath sends a fresh stabbing pain into your side. It’ll cause the most issues as you continue on.

That thought almost makes you cry. Taking on Hangman had been difficult enough and you had barely escaped with your life. However, Rooster is still somewhere in these woods actively looking for you. Any head start you had is gone after all the time you took tussling with Hangman. And you have a feeling if Rooster was out for your blood before this, when he discovers you killed his friend, he’s going to want to carve you up with a rusty knife piece by tiny little piece. 

But maybe…

The only reason you were able to get the advantage against Hangman was because he underestimated you. He was too distracted by his own fun and games to really pay attention to what you were doing. Now, while you seriously doubt Rooster will make that same mistake—not after you headbutted him in the clearing—maybe he has a different distraction that will work on him. Namely, his rage and blood lust.

If you can get him so angry and ramp up his need to kill you so high, then maybe, just maybe, he will get sloppy and you’ll have a chance to take him down too. Maybe you can make him see red so strongly, that he won’t be able to see you going in for the kill.

Glancing back at Hangman’s limp body, you wonder if there’s a way to use it in this new plan. Maybe carve something into his skin with one of his knives? Like a message to Rooster saying you have Hangman’s weapons and he’s next? Very Die Hard of you.

It wouldn’t be that difficult to do. After all, Hangman isn’t that far in the air. In fact, the toes of his boots softly kiss the snow beneath him as he continues to sway.

His boots!

Ignoring the way your muscles scream at you as you move, you scramble to your knees and crawl over to Hangman’s dangling body. Your fingers are so numb and swollen from the cold that untying the tight laces is nearly impossible but you refuse to give up. By the time you can slide the second boot off his rapidly chilling body, your nails are cracked and your fingers are bleeding, ruby droplets coating the snow around you.

You hesitate for a moment, wondering if it’s too morbid to also take his socks. However, the boots are several sizes too big and your feet are so frozen that you need to take whatever extra padding you can get. So you slip off his thick, woolen socks. You do draw the line at taking his pants though. As much as you would love some covering for your bare legs, you knew the fit would be way off and just slow you down as you tried to plan the rest of your escape. So, you resign yourself to your new socks and boots.

As you pull them on, the heat radiating from within the soft wool and worn leather feels like Heaven wrapped around your frostbitten feet. However, you can’t help but shudder at the knowledge this is the last warmth Hangman will ever give off. It’s almost like you can feel his hands wrapped around your ankles and trailing up your shins. 

You try your best to push those thoughts aside. After all, you only did what you had to do to survive. If the roles had been reversed and Hangman had won the hunt, he would currently be doing fuck knows what manner of twisted, ungodly things to your body. 

Just the thought of what he might have done reignites the fury and fight in your chest that had blazed when you watched Hangman get a taste of his own medicine. 

Turning back to his now shoeless body, you begin to doubt your original idea of carving a message into him. For one, you really don’t want to do it. Killing him was one thing but mutilating his body is a whole other ball game. Plus, you have terrible penmanship using a pen or pencil. There’s no telling if your message would even be legible when using a knife as a writing tool and then you just wasted time for no reason. Then there is the fact you are in a massive wood at night in the dark. Even if Rooster is tracking you, there’s no guarantee he’ll come across Hangman’s body, especially with his dark denim jacket and jeans helping him blend into the night. 

But that gives you another idea. 

Stripping off your burnt-orange jacket, you shiver as the cold air hits your bare arms. Trying your best to ignore it, you grab Hangman’s jacket, wrestle it off of him, and put it on yourself. Though denim on the outside, the interior is sherpa-lined and it is as warm, if not more, than the jacket you just traded him for. 

Feeling something in the pockets, you are overjoyed to discover his phone in one and the keys to the truck in the other. Checking the phone first, you see it’s locked. However, the key is a facial recognition scan. You know it’s a long shot, but, standing on your toes, you line Hangman’s face up to the screen and nearly squeal when you see it unlock. Your joy deflates somewhat when you see there’s no service but you remember Hangman mentioning the terrible service in these woods when he got that call from his missing hunter friends back in the clearing. Hopefully, as you walk, you’ll find a spot with at least one bar so you can call for help. Going into the settings, you disable the lock function so you won’t need Hangman’s face next time you try to access the phone.

Turning back to what you had planned, you do your best to fit your jacket onto his body. It’s too small but you manage to get it pulled up almost to his shoulders, enough that it’ll stay on. Then, taking a few deep breaths, you slowly pull on the end of the rope. It’s hard going without the adrenaline rush to aid in your efforts, but eventually, you manage to raise Hangman until his head almost brushes the limb the rope is thrown over. Hopefully, between the height and the flash of color, Rooster will be able to spot him if he is anywhere in the area. 

However, that means you need to leave this area as soon as possible.

Now that you have Hangman’s phone and truck keys, your best bet is to try to head back to the clearing. If you can make it there before Rooster catches you, you should be able to steal their truck and head for town. Or at least get somewhere where you can use the phone. 

And if for some reason that plan doesn’t work, at least the clearing will make a good place to make your final stand against Rooster.

Collecting all of the knives that you can find that had scattered around during your fight, you tuck them into the inside of your new jacket. Then, taking one last look at Hangman’s limp body hanging high overhead, you turn and head back in the direction you came from.

They wanted you to be a fox, fine, you’ll be a fox. A fox will do whatever it takes to free themselves from a trap and survive, even if that means gnawing off their own foot. So while it might take doing unspeakable things that will haunt you for the rest of your life in order to survive, it’s a price you’re willing to pay to be the one who walks out of these woods at the end of the night.

One down. One to go.

Thank you all for reading, reblogging, and commenting! There are two more parts coming soon in this series (Part 5 in Bradley's POV and Part 6 in Reader's POV).

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[whump-thoughts]

Chat is it too much to ask for angel or knight whumpee stuff. I am a simple man! I just want pious, otherworldly and heroic characters to be completely destroyed by enemies that they could not defeat, to be throughly and violently stripped of their strength, of their status and perception as protectors and come out of the other side of their torture as sub-human beings who can only continue existing if they are of use to someone else.

And then they are selflessly taken in and looked after Caretaker, yet, being protected by someone they would have been the one looking after... isn't that so degrading? Such a painful reminder as to how far they have fallen from their former glory?.

Chat please talk to me about this type of whumpee, I am going to go crazy /j

[whump-tr0pes]

Aqua Sancta

Lux in Tenebris masterlist here

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 of a (no longer little) arc of Dee having a fever

This comes about a month or so into the First Recovery arc.

Author’s note #1: Thank you so much to the kind reader who left a wonderful comment on this fic on AO3 and singlehandedly resurrected this arc after almost two years. People don’t realize how some kind words can inspire someone to write again even when the Juice(TM) isn’t flowing like it used to.

Author’s note #2: This chapter is heavily inspired by a piece written in response to this prompt. I was so sad to discover that the blog has since been deleted, taking with it one of the whump pieces that absolutely got me my start.

Content warning: sickfic, fever, delirium, demon whumpee, past torture, nonsexual nudity, misunderstanding whump, language whump, past religious abuse, religious themes, past burns, ‘it’ as a pronoun, past drowning, manhandling, begging for death

~

The demon was screaming. Ilya had never heard such a sound in their life. It was as if an animal was being torn apart, horrible broken wails piercing their skull and making their skin crawl. They forced themself not to slap their hands over their ears, forced themself instead to hold their hands out to the demon that was crouched against the bathroom door.

It – he – was naked, bathed in sickly sweat, his eyes wild and fixed on the bathtub filled with water. Gooseflesh rippled over his body as he huddled and twisted away from Ilya. His fangs were descended and bared, but he cowered away, fingernails scrabbling at the door. Dara stood at Ilya’s shoulder. She drew in a deep breath, let it out. The smell of ozone momentarily washed away the smell of sweat and fear in the bathroom.

“Dee, please,” Ilya breathed. “We aren’t going to hurt you. You just… you just need a bath, Dee. You’re sick. We just need to bring your fever down.”

Fevered eyes locked on Ilya’s.

“Non intellego,” Dee sobbed, voice strained and broken. “Non intellego, obsecro ignosce me, obsecro, numquam ego facito iterum, obsecro dice m-mihi quid feci iniuriam, numquam ego facito iterum—”

Ilya glanced at Dara. “What—”

“It’s begging again,” Dara said through her teeth.

Ilya took a hesitant step forward. “Dee, no—”

They were cut off by a heart-rending shriek. “NON. Non facio… Si vis recitare verba tui ordinis, ero… Est…? Pater noster, qui es in cœlis—”

“We don’t need you to recite the goddamn Pater Noster, demon,” Dara said through her teeth. “Is that what they…? Jesus Christ…”

“Wh-what?” Ilya breathed.

“—sanctificetur nomen tuum: Adveniat regnum tuum—”

“Stop,” Dara ordered. The demon’s recitation ceased, but it continued to whimper and sob with every shuddering exhale.

“What is it?” Ilya said, glancing between Dee and Dara. “What is that?”

“It’s the Lord’s Prayer,” Dara said darkly. “It’s part of the catechism. Normal shit for us, but… if demons are around when that stuff is said, it hurts them. And if he was forced to… recite it… Jesus fuck, is there nothing these motherfuckers didn’t do to him…”

“Obsecro,” Dee sobbed. “Miserere, angelus virtute, faciam quod vis, sed obsecro, ni aqua sancta, faciam QUID…”

“Shush,” Dara snapped. She rubbed her temple. “It’s probably almost as painful for him to recite the catechism as it was to be burned by the holy water.”

“Oh, no,” Ilya whispered. They pressed their hands to their mouth. “Dee…”

The demon looked at them blankly, eyes wild, chest heaving. “Obsecro,” he rasped. “Obsecro, virtute.”

Ilya took a shaking breath. “So what do we…?”

“I think we just… do it,” Dara said. Her jaw worked. “It’s not going to understand until it’s actually in the water. Not in its current state of mind.”

“H-his,” Ilya breathed, trembling. They blinked tears away and swallowed hard. “H-he said that they… m-made him drink it, too.”

Dara could have been made of stone beside him – a statue on one side of the room, a snarling creature on the other. An eternity seemed to pass before she shook herself and muttered, “I’m going to slaughter those motherfuckers someday.”

Ilya spared a glance at her. “But—”

“Let’s just handle this right now,” she said with a bite to her voice. “Let’s just… get them… him… feeling better. We need to get this fever down. It might be why he’s acting like this in the first place.” She adjusted her soft leather gloves. Ilya nodded took a step towards the demon.

His slitted pupils blew wide. He snarled and snapped at them.

Ilya gasped and fell a step back. Even though there was still a full step between them, there had been power in the bite.

“D-Dee,” Ilya breathed.

Dara huffed out a breath. “That’s enough,” she grumbled. She strode forward and seized the demon with her gloved hands.

The demon let out a scream that lanced Ilya down to their soul. They could do nothing but watch as Dara took Dee’s wrists in one hand and wrapped her other arm around his chest, holding him tightly against her so that he could not turn his head far enough to bite her. He twisted and writhed in her grip.

“NON,” he shrieked. “NON, OBSECRO!” He snapped uselessly at the air and kicked out at nothing.

“Dee, it’s… it’s okay,” Ilya said weakly, reaching out a hand to comfort him.

“No,” Dara snapped. “He’ll bite.” Ilya drew their hand back. Dara effortlessly carried Dee, screaming and writhing, to the bath.

“OBSECRO, OBSECRO, NECA ME, EGO MORTI DE MANIBUS LIBENTER, OBSECRO VIRTUTE, OBSECRO.” Ilya’s head was throbbing with Dee’s screams. Dara lowered Dee over the bath. He drew his legs up to his chest, suddenly trying to cling to her. He sobbed his heart out and tried to bury his face against her shoulder. She held him out away from her, avoiding his teeth.

“Dammit,” she breathed.

“Just do it,” Ilya said flatly. Their chest ached, but they forced themself to look at Dee. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with them over Dara’s shoulder.

“Ilya,” he croaked. “Help me.”

Ilya bit their lip and looked away. Dara held the demon out away from her and quickly lowered him into the lukewarm bath.

The demon convulsed with a scream when he hit the water. Bathwater spilled over the side and onto the tiles. Dara kept a firm grip on his wrists and on the back of his neck as he scrambled to escape the bath.

Ilya rushed forward and fell to their knees beside the tub, no longer caring about the risk of Dee’s fangs. Dee’s hands were balled into terrified fists in Dara’s grip, but Ilya covered his hands with their own.

“Dee,” they said urgently. “Dee, look at me. Feel the water. Is it burning you?”

Dee whimpered and found Ilya’s eyes, confused and frightened out of his mind. He shivered under Dara’s hands and froze. Ilya could tell that her grip on the back of his neck would leave bruises.

“Careful, Ilya,” Dara said through her teeth.

“I am being careful,” they said back, quelling their anxiety, the anger that flared when they saw how tightly Dara was still holding Dee even though he was no longer fighting her. They reached out a shaking hand and stroked it through Dee’s hair. It was soaked with sweat and splashed bathwater. “Dee,” they murmured. “It’s okay. We would never, never hurt you.”

Dee’s throat worked. He blinked, his chest still heaving. Slowly, slowly, he pushed his head against Ilya’s hand. The same rumbling sound Ilya had heard before filled the small room.

Dara blew out a breath. Dee turned away from it and blinked as if she had breathed cigarette smoke in his face in the close quarters. As slowly as Dee had moved towards Ilya, Dara released his wrists and neck. There were bruises where her fingers had been. Ilya swallowed hard and tried not to look.

All at once, Dee slumped against the side of the bath. Dara’s hand shot and seized his hair as if she was about to restrain him again. Ilya shot her a glare, and she returned the look. Ilya quailed and shifted their eyes away. Dara released Dee’s hair and stood.

“I’m staying in here,” she said firmly. “In case he… gets frightened again.”

“That’s fair,” Ilya said. They gave her a grudging nod. “I get it.”

“Eva is changing the sheets right now,” Dara said. “And after we get him back in bed, we can feed him. I think that will help a bit.”

“Yeah,” Ilya said distractedly as they drew their fingers through Dee’s tangled and sweaty hair.

“Ilya,” Dara said, and Ilya looked back up at her. Her brow was furrowed. “It… it is dangerous. You know that.”

“He,” Ilya said as they set their jaw. They looked back down at Dee. He was shivering violently, but he seemed so exhausted that he could barely hold onto the side of the tub.

“He,” Dara corrected. “Sorry. Old habits. But my point still stands.”

Ilya nodded. “I know,” they whispered, and the admission burned their tongue like guilt. “But he’s dangerous because he’s scared. And I…” Finally, they raised their gaze to Dara again. “If I can, if it’s… possible, for him, I want to show him he’s safe. And that he doesn’t have to be scared anymore.”

The demon under Ilya’s hands moaned softly and heaved a wracking cough.

  Translation of the Latin lines here:

“I don’t understand,” Dee sobbed, voice strained and broken. “I don’t understand, please forgive me, please, I will never do it again, please tell m-me what I did wrong, I will never do it again—”

…

They were cut off by a heart-rending shriek. “NO. I don’t… If you want me to recite the words of your order, I will… Is that…? Our Father, who art in Heaven—”

…

“—hallowed by Thy Name: Thy Kingdom come—”

…

“Please,” Dee sobbed. “Have mercy, virtue, I’ll do whatever you want, but please, not the holy water, I’ll do ANYTHING…”

…

The demon looked at them blankly, eyes wild, chest heaving. “Please,” he rasped. “Please, virtue.”

…

“NO,” he shrieked. “NO, PLEASE!” He snapped uselessly at the air and kicked out at nothing.

…

“PLEASE, PLEASE, KILL ME, I’LL DIE AT YOUR HAND GLADLY, PLEASE VIRTUE, PLEASE.” Ilya’s head was throbbing with Dee’s screams. Dara lowered Dee over the bath. He drew his legs up to his chest, suddenly trying to cling to her. He sobbed his heart out and tried to bury his face against her shoulder. She held him out away from her, avoiding his teeth.

Continued here

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[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Spiders Sister - Chapter 4

Summary: Reader goes shopping with Pepper, Wanda and Nat. It ends a bit early though when reader starts to struggle with her senses.

TW: overstimulation, flirting, speeding, domestic fluff (hehe)

Words: 3.8K

A/n I changed the floor layout my bad. Also, I planned like 16 chapters of this fic so far and there will probs be more. Now i’m just worried I’ll end up loosing interest and not finishing it 😭 and I’ve been up since 2am. I slept for two hours 💀

After a dinner of pizza and other takeaway foods Tony had bought, Wanda and you headed back to the floor with Peters room.

Stepping out of the lift Wanda led you to where you had been staying for the past few days while Nat went ahead to your new room put sheets on your bed.

Your room would be on the same floor as Natasha and Wanda’s. It was also where Yelena and Kate stayed when they were in town as well as Carol when she was on earth.

You reached the door and headed into peters room. It didn’t take long to gather your things. You grabbed the backpack with some clothes in it, all of which were dirty by now as well as your tablet, computer and sketching supplies.

Once you had shoved most of it into the bag and had your laptop in your arms you followed wanda back out the door.

Despite your very comprehensive tour of the compound, you still didn’t know where you were going.

Wanda and you got back into the lift and set out for your new room.

The lift was filled with idle chatter as Wanda caught you up on the avengers love lives. Tony and pepper were together while the rest were still living the bachelor life.

Feeling a little bold you decided to ask her.

“What about you?” You asked. “Are you seeing anyone?” You clarified when she shot you a confused look.

“Not currently.” Wanda said studying the rarely used buttons on the lift. Jarvis often did all of that for you.

“Ok cool.” You said before stuttering. “I mean not ‘cool’ but its not uncool” you began rambling only cut off by the angelic sound of Wanda’s giggles.

Your cheeks were rosy as she smiled at you.

“Your cute when your flustered.” She said with a wink just as the doors opened and she stepped out. You were frozen for a second before gathering yourself and following her out half a pace behind.

As you trailed after Wanda down the halls she turned to look over her shoulder at you. “You coming sweetheart?” She asked and you nodded speeding up your steps to walk beside her.

As you rounded another corner she slowed. “This is my room.” Wanda said gesturing to a closed door. “And that’s Nat’s.” She gestured to the door next to hers. “This is your room.” She said walking down to the door halfway between Wanda’s and Natasha’s on the opposite side of the hallway.

The door to your room was open as Nat was sat on your freshly made bed with a grin.

“Wondering when you were getting here.” Natasha smirked making Wanda roll her eyes at her.

You stepped into the room. It was large with a king bed and huge windows that let in natural light, or at least it would if it was daytime. It was past evening now and almost nine pm. The New York skyline was just as beautiful, however.

You set your bag and laptop down on the desk before sitting down next to Natasha on the bed.

The walls were white and grey. There was a big desk near the windows and a bedside table on each side of the bed. A door was off to the side which you assumed led to a bathroom. There was also a second door which must have been a wardrobe. Other than a lamp on the bedside and a Tv mounted on the wall, the room was bare.

“We’ll get thing to decorate when we go shopping tomorrow.” Nat said almost as if she could read your mind. More likely she could read your expression and body language.

“Sounds perfect.” You said with a smile.

“Do you have clothes you can sleep in tonight?” Wanda asked and you shuffled your feet before looking up at her.

“Er… no?” You said.

“Are you asking me or telling me sweetheart?” Wanda asked coyly making a blush rise on your cheeks.

“Telling?” You said still sounding unsure of yourself.

“Very well then. I’m sure Nat and I can find something for you to sleep in for tonight.” Wanda said looking to Nat for her opinion. The widow nodded and you felt yourself relax slightly.

“Thank you guys. I wasn’t looking forward to wearing dirty clothes in a clean bed tonight.’ You said sighing in relief.

“Are all your clothes dirty?” Nat asked eyeing your backpack.

“Yeah.” You huffed.

“We’ll find you something to wear tomorrow as well then, just until we can sort out some new clothes and laundry. Sound good?” Nat asked and you nodded.

“Yes, thank you.” You said.

“No need to thank us darling. Your quite welcome.” Nat purred and you felt yourself resist a shiver as her words danced close to your ear. The hair on the back of your neck swaying slightly under her breath as your skin tingled with the heat of her words.

You swallowed trying to regain your composure much to both women’s amusement.

“T-thanks.” You stuttered.

“Already said that darling.” Wanda chuckled and your blush deepened.

“Your so easy to mess with.” Nat said laughing from beside you.

You just glared at them and went to take the things out of your backpack while Wanda and Natasha left to find some clothes for you in their cupboards.

You had just finished setting down the last of your art supplies on the desk when Nat walked in loosely holding a faded black shield T-shirt that immediately knew was hers from how worn it looked. It also looked to be almost two sizes too big for Nat, so you shot her a questioning look.

She shrugged. “Its comfier to sleep in when its too big, and it kept the other boys I trained with back in the day from being able to stare at my ass.” She said with a wink.

“Whats this about Nat’s ass?” Wanda said walking in with a sly grin as your cheeks heated and you buried your face in your hands with a groan.

You heard the two of them high-five and rolled your eyes.

“Here.” Wanda said and you felt the bed dip beside you.

Wanda was holding out a pair of red track-pants which you took with a smile.

A second later Nat threw the shirt at you with a laugh as it landed on your head. You pulled it off and glared at her.

“You’re a menace.” You declared and Wanda hid a giggle behind her hand.

“Sure thing sweet cheeks.” Nat said rolling her eyes. “Now it’s bed time kiddo.” She said and motioned for wanda to leave as well.

“Im not a kid Romanoff.” You said and she smirked at the use of her last name, having been able to get under your skin successfully.

Wanda cuffed Nat but she ducked and took off down the hall. Wanda rolled her eyes and sighed. “Ignore her, she’s been drinking too much coffee lately.” Wanda said and bid you goodnight before retreating to capture the other redhead and force her to sleep.

You grinned at the shut door like a lovesick puppy before shaking yourself out of it. You changed into the clothes which smelt like them and made you feel safe.

Sliding under the sheets and getting comfy, you listened to the hallways to see if anyone was coming back. When you were met with silence, you reached over your backpack and pulled out a small white stuffed teddy.

Curling up with it under your arm, you buried your face in Nat’s shirt and fell asleep thinking of the two pretty redheads down the hall.

The next morning you were up bright and early. Having slept well for the first time in weeks.

You found your way to the communal kitchen just in time to run into Natasha who was coming back from early morning training in the compound gym.

“Hi Y/n/n.” Nat said smiling as she went to grab a bottle of cold water from the fridge.

“Morning Natty.” You said with a smile.

“You're in a good mood.” Nat said looking amused as she took a big swig from the water bottle in her hands.

“Yep.” You said popping the P.

“Do you know if Wanda’s up?” Nat asked and before you could respond someone else did for you.

“I’m up.” Wanda said entering the kitchen.

“Morning.” You smiled.

“Morning Y/n. Who wants breakfast?” Wanda asked gravitating to the pots and pans in the drawers beside you.

“I’ll have some.” You said with a smile as you took a seat by the counter.

“Put me down for some too, I’m just going to go and have a shower before breakfast then we can head out ok?” Nat said as she refilled the water bottle and put it back in the fridge.

“Sounds good.” Wanda said as she began pulling things out of the fridge.

“Umm… where are we going today?” You asked feeling a little lost. Nat had already taken her leave for a shower so it was just you and wanda now.

“Don’t tell me you forgot?” Wanda said looking amused.

“Forgot … what? … exactly?” You asked.

“The girls shopping trip?” Wanda said.

“Oh yeah!” You exclaimed sitting up a little taller in a way that made Wanda’s heart stutter.

“So… how did you sleep?” Wanda asked.

“I slept well, how ‘bout you?” You asked watching as wanda beat the pancake batter within and inch of its life.

“Good, good. It’s a bit hit and miss some nights but last night wasn’t too bad.” Wanda said vaguely as she turned around the pour the batter into the pan.

After Nat returned and the three of you had eaten what could only be described as the best pancakes known to man, you got ready and headed for the garage.

Pepper was meeting you at the shopping centre a bit later after she sorted out some stark industries meetings this morning.

“You ready?” Wanda said putting an arm around your shoulders. You jumped in surprise making Nat laugh and Wanda frown.

“Too busy daydreaming there, Parker?” Nat asked with a grin, and you glared at her.

“No, just planning your murder.” You said with a wink before blow if her a kiss that made Nat roll her eyes at you.

“Alright, enough you two.” Wanda said giving you a small shove before punching Nat in the arm.

“Get in.” Nat said opening a door for you to the backseat and waving her hand toward the car's interior.

“This feels personal.” You grumbled as the two redheads took the front seat.

“It is.” Nat grinned as the engine hummed to life. You were taking one of Tonys’ many fancy, and very expensive cars. Nat’s favourite was the Bugatti La Voiture Noire, but it was only two seats, so you were left with the choice of a Mercedes Mayback or a Ford Mustang both of which had four seats.

In the end Nat had opted for the mustang and the three of you had piled in to head off.

With Nat driving you must have arrived in record time; it was no secret the redheaded assassin was a speed demon and Tony had begun framing her speeding tickets in the garage on the wall. The government always came to her aid if the police ever tried to take her license as it was argued she needed it to quote “save New York”

Of course, you hadn’t known this before hand and had let out a small scream as Nat took off at breakneck speed out of the garage.

One very fast car trip later the three of you were stood by the door the mall waiting for pepper to join you.

It had barely been five minutes before the last redhead showed up. Pepper was actually on time; Nat’s driving had just made you all early.

As pepper walked over Nat decided to tease her a little.

“Picking up on Tony’s habits there, pep?” Nat asked.

“Oh please.” Pepper rolled her eyes. “I’m the only reason he’s even at any of his meetings at all. Without me he wouldn’t just be late, he’d be missing.” She said and Nat laughed.

“True.” The assassin nodded.

“Alright, lets do this.” Pepper said smiling at you and Wanda.

The four of you headed into the mall. It was a little crowded but nobody seemed to mind. You just crossed your fingers that your spider senses stayed in check.

Pepper had barely made it ten feet in the door before she was dragging Natasha into a very expensive looking boutique.

This was how you spent the next hour. Pepper and Wanda dragged you and Natasha around, stopping at every pretty dress shop and expensive looking store in the complex.

After about an hour you were beginning to nurse a small headache and the tingle in the back of your mind told you all you needed to know for what was going to happen.

Nat had just stopped at a rack nearby before pulling wanda over to her. Holding out a dress you saw Wanda’s lips moving as she nodded, and Nat took the dress and disappeared into the change rooms.

It was a tight red cocktail dress and when Nat came back out to show it off you swear your jaw unhinged and landed on the floor.

It hugged her in all the right places.

Wanda was too busy ogling Nat to notice your reaction but pepper snorted a laugh before covering her mouth.

Nat pouted.

“What? Does it not look good?” Nat asked and you shot pepper a pleading look but she just smiled.

“No … no. I’d just say its … jaw dropping.” Pepper said winking at you as you glared at her with flushed cheeks.

“Yeah?” Nat asked raising an eyebrow and shooting you a look. “Then I guess I’ll have to get it then won’t i?” Nat said and you nodded eagerly. “Your lucky your cute Detka.” She said as she brushed past you on her way back to the change room. “Because your drooling.” She whispered in your ear and your blush darkened a good two shades of crimson.

Your headache was still getting worse and about a half hour later it was almost reaching full force.

You had found a dress and Nat was carrying four bags, one with a dress for you and her and the other three had a few random pieces of clothing for your day to day wardrobe and some room décor.

Just as you were beginning to think you wouldn’t be able to take anymore Wanda suggested the four of you get lunch from the café downstairs.

By now you were surprised none of them had noticed your discomfort, despite trying to hide it it was still bothering you.

The fluorescent strip lights that lit the mall were too bright and seemed to be burning your retinas with each blink.

The noise level despite not exceeding regular mall noise levels was almost deafening in your sensitive ears.

Even the mixed smells of fast food and perfumes was making your head swim.

Your headache pounded behind your eyes as well as almost throughout your full skull. There was a buzzing in your ears that sounded like the electricity in the walls that simply wouldn’t shut up.

Your stomach was rolling from the mixed smells and it was just too loud and too bright.

As you slid into the booth next to Nat, with wanda and pepper on the other side facing you, you resisted the urge to crawl under the table and cry.

Your headache thundered in your ears and pounded on your skull.

Your headache was in full force and Pepper must have noticed how quiet you were being as she looked you over with a knowing gaze.

She took note of your pinched brow and slightly sweaty forehead, how you were biting down on your lip and squinting. As well as how you flinched as someone in the café banged their cutlery against their plate.

Wanda noticed peppers look and was now looking at you too with a frown which drew Natasha’s eyes to you as well.

The conversation had reached a lull as all three women studied you. You were too zoned out to notice their attention all being on you.

“Y/n?” Wanda asked slowly.

“Yeah?” You said looking up and sounding absolutely wreaked.

“Are you ok?” Wanda said looking slightly worried.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You said not even believing your own words. Your voice was lathered in a tired tone. You shook your head while saying this only managing to anger your headache more as you winced and brought a hand to your head, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

Feeling nauseous you leant on nat and rested you head on her shoulder. Nat seemed almost surprised at your sudden desire for contact.

She held you close to her as your body relaxed into her side having no more energy to hold yourself up.

“Y/n?” Pepper asked softly.

“Mmm?” You hummed as you vaguely heard shuffling before you sensed someone close to you.

Opening an eye slightly you saw pepper crouching next to you.

“Y/n?” she asked softly. “Do you get the same thing peter does honey?” Her voice stayed low and quiet. You turned your face into Nat’s neck and weighed up your options before giving a small nod.

You miss the frown that adorns Wanda’s lips at the news that something was wrong and pepper seemed to know what it was despite you never having mentioned anything about this.

Pepper stood again and looked over at Nat and Wanda.

“She’ll be alright. Just stay here and I’ll be back. I’ll explain in a minute.” Pepper said and she took off in a brisk walk to a nearby shop.

After pepper had darted off she wove through the crowd and into a tech store, making a purchase before making one more stop and then hightailing it back to the café.

When she returned you’s seemingly not moved an inch while Wanda and Nat were talking in hushed tones. Nat had her arm around you and was holdin the back of your head into her neck as you seemed to be almost trembling from all the overstimulation.

When pepper came back Wanda sat a little straighter while Nat eyes the two new shopping bags pepper was carrying.

Pepper came to crouch beside you giving you a small nudge that set your skin on fire.

“Y/n?” She asked softly. “Can you look at me honey, you can keep your eyes shut, I promise these will help.” She said coaxing you out of Nat’s neck.

You faced her with your eyes squeezed shut as she slid a black pair of noise cancelling headphones over your ears and switching them on.

The blissful sound of quiet almost made you cry as your headache lessened. A moment later you felt pepper place something on your face before cautiously opening one eye to find the world dimmer and more tolerable.

Now decked out with the headphones and sunglasses you felt a lot better. You were exhausted and the headache was still present just less intense.

You watched as Wanda, Nat and Pepper conversed, the sound not reaching you. Pepper seemed to be explaining what was happening to them based off the sad look wanda gave you.

Pepper explained that your powers increased your senses, and that in the right conditions they were very helpful in fights. But were more than problematic in a domestic setting. She explained that it wasn’t unheard of for peter to get overstimulated when out or somewhere loud. She went on to tell them she recognised the look peter had when he tried to simple tough it out when they went out.

Wanda felt awful that your powers had caused you pain.

Nat however was already planning to talk to tony about getting something built to help.

Once pepper had explained the extent of the issue and some of the things that helped, the three seemed to change gears, looking to be making plans now instead.

After they had finished talking Pepper decided to try something.

She turned to face you and moved her hands to form some simple signs. Your face lit up in recognition.

*How are you feeling? * Pepper signed.

*tired* you signed back.

Nat and Wanda looked surprised.

“How did you know she knew sign?” Wanda asked.

“Peter seemed to know some when he first was with us.” Pepper explained. “I assumed Y/n might also know some if peter did.”

You could tell what they had asked. “My dad was hard of hearing. He taught us sign at a young age before … he died.” You said and pepper nodded.

*We are going to go home* pepper signed but you shook your head.

*you stay here, I’ll go. I don’t want to ruin things* you signed.

*nonsense* pepper signed and you knew based off Nat’s eyes she was following along.

Nat had learnt sign language from Clint in the academy when they were partners. Clint had insisted in case his hearing aid were ever damaged in a fight.

You sighed realising you weren’t going to win this one.

*ok* you signed and hesitated for a moment before continuing. *thank you*. You signed.

*your welcome* pepper signed back and Wanda offered her hand to you.

Holding Wanda’s hand, the four of you headed for the car park.

You felt bad for ruining the trip, but Nat shot you a look when she saw you getting lost in your head that banished all thoughts.

Once you were in the car, Wanda had insisted on driving. Nat was riding with pepper to try and find out more about what was going on. You kept the headphones and sunnies on the whole ride home as you zoned out slightly.

Wanda droves slowly so she didn’t throw you around while Pepper and Nat sped back to try and organise things for when you get back.

When you arrived, you were almost asleep leaning into the passenger door.

Wanda coaxed you out of the car and led you by the hand up the lift and down the hall to her room.

You were beyond exhausted as Wanda lifted the sheets and got you settled under the thick comforter.

She ordered Jarvis to dim the lights and soundproof the room. She thanked Tony for the added features in her mind as she felt you snuggle into her side.

A few moments later the door opened slightly to reveal Nat and Pepper peaking in.

“Is she asleep?” Nat asked and Wanda studied your breathing.

“Not yet.” Wanda responded.

“Well we have some pain meds for her.” Pepper said as they both came inside and handed wanda a glass of water.

After coaxing you into taking some medicine, you laid back down against Wanda was was massaging your head as you melted in her lap.

Pepper and Nat had dropped by Bruces lab to pick up peters pain meds for you before coming to Wanda’s room where Jarvis said they could find you.

You fell asleep not long after taking the medicine which had finally gotten rid of your headache.

PART 5

[a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all]

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 10

AI-Less Whumptober 2024: Day 14. Concussion

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader

Summary: Just as you begin to think your life is perfect, a traumatic event occurs that changes everything.

Word Count: 7147

TW: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Storm Danger, Panic Attack, Concussion, Blood, Dissociating, Heartbreak, Tears, Tyler carries Reader, Language

Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Time didn’t seem to matter anymore. Looking at your phone one morning, you realized it was exactly three weeks since you started this whirlwind trip. Yet, it was sometimes hard to believe. Part of you felt as if you had just arrived, while another part felt like this had always been your life. 

The Wranglers—which you were happy to include yourself in now that you bore their tattoo—led such crazy, chaotic lives that every day was some new adventure where you were never quite sure what would happen. Yet you were always having the time of your life! And your nights were just as exciting and heavenly with Tyler in your bed. He was everything you had ever dreamed of in a partner and more. The perfect blend of taking charge and always making sure you were comfortable. Sexy as hell, but caring and sweet as well. 

Your life was truly turning into something magical.

However, it’s often when we are floating on cloud nine that the world decides to bring us crashing back down to Earth.

“Sweetheart, you gotta get up.”

You opened your eyes as Tyler continued to shake you. Rolling to look over your shoulder at him, you muttered, “What’s going on?” It was only then that you noticed the loud siren blaring outside. “What’s that sound?”

“Tornado siren,” Tyler said as he grabbed his boxer briefs off the floor and quickly pulled them on. “One just touched down at the end of the street and we gotta get somewhere safe. Now!”

There was an edge in Tyler’s voice you had never heard before, especially not when discussing storms. If he was concerned about it, it must be bad. 

Quickly, you slipped off the bed. Luckily you had slipped your panties back on last night when you went to the bathroom and your bra was dangling on the lamp next to the bed but you couldn’t remember where the rest of your clothes had been tossed while Tyler undressed you. Seeing a box of his merch t-shirt in the chair next to you, you grabbed one and pulled it on. It was long enough that it skimmed the middle of your thighs but you really wished you had found your shorts.

Tyler grabbed his keys then your hand, pulling you towards the door. But just as he reached for the handle, the wall-length window beside it exploded inward, sending both you and Tyler flying backwards. The air was knocked out of your lungs as you slammed into the thinly carpeted floor and your head cracked against the corner of the bed frame. Gasping and dazed, you struggled to catch your breath as the air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Hundreds of places on your body stung, and you could just make out various-sized shards of glass sticking out of your arm and chest, causing tiny pinpricks of blood to blossom across your shirt, dyeing the cartoon of Tyler. Based on how the rest of you were feeling, you figured you also had glass lodged in your face, neck, and thighs. 

But it was nothing compared to the pain in the back of your head. With every beat of your racing heart, a fresh throb of pain stabbed through your mind. The world around you looked fuzzy and out of focus. When you tried to move, it felt as though you were swimming through molasses, your movements sluggish and heavy, and all you wanted to do was lay there and fall asleep.

Suddenly, Tyler’s face was looming over yours. He too had glass jutting out of his skin, but since he had been slightly protected by the door, it was mostly clustered on the right side of his body. He was screaming something at you but the sound was torn away with the wind. You tried to sit up, but you barely managed to lift your head before collapsing back. Realizing something was wrong, Tyler brushed his fingers against the back of your head—you flinched slightly at the stinging pain it caused—and his eyes grew wide as he pulled them back, the tips stained red. 

You flinched as more glass was sucked up from the floor and hurled back at the two of you. More shards buried themselves in your legs, but Tyler’s body crouched over yours blocked most of the glass from hitting you. His face twitched slightly and his jaw clenched as he was pelted by glass and other debris, but all of his focus was on you. Sliding one of his arms carefully under yours while the other supported your head, he managed to lift you to your feet. Then he half-dragged, half-carried you deeper into the room until you reached the closet. Prying the door open against the wind, he eased you gently to the floor before stepping inside himself and letting the door slam shut. 

It was dark inside, and with the power off, the faint moonlight that managed to pierce through the storm was nearly non-existent as it drifted in from the slats in the wooden closet door. You felt Tyler reach for you in the darkness and when his hand grasped your arm, he pulled you into his lap. He curled his body around yours, shielding as much of you as he could in case the worst happened. One of his hands hovered protectively over the back of your head where you had hit it earlier, not quite touching your wound but covering it from any debris that might sneak into your hideout. 

You buried your face into his bare chest, ignoring the glass sticking out of both of you, and you suddenly realized you were screaming at the top of your lungs. You had no idea how long you had been producing the sobbing shriek—the sound ripped away by the wind—but your throat burned and felt raw even as you continued to wail. Vibrations in Tyler’s chest and throat told you he was trying to say something to you, but over the wind and your screams, you couldn’t hear him.

Just outside the closest, the wind howled and rattled the door, nearly ripping it off its hinges. It felt as if an intruder were trying to force themself in to steal you away and you clung tighter to Tyler even as it drove the glass shards deeper into you. You felt raindrops against your skin as they were hurled through the wooden slats and they mixed with the tears streaming down your face. 

For almost three weeks now, you had braved storm after storm tucked safely in Tyler’s truck. Every time felt like going on a roller coaster. Your stomach would float up into your throat, your toes would curl, and you would grab onto Tyler, screaming with joy. You had counted those storms among some of the most exhilarating moments of your life. But now, curled in Tyler’s lap, your stomach still floated into your throat, your bare toes were curled against the thin carpet, and you held onto Tyler for dear life—yet your screams were anything but joyful.

Finally, as he rubbed soothing circles across your back, you heard Tyler whisper, “Shhh… sweetheart, it’s over now. We’re okay, we’re okay. We made it.” 

You could hear the wind dying down outside and felt the building settle as it no longer fought against the storm so you knew he was right. Slowly, your screams faded until you were just making a wet gurgling sound deep in your throat. Still, you couldn’t stop shaking. 

Tyler tried to get you to look at him, but you couldn’t. All you could do was cling to him and shake, neither of which seemed in your control at the moment. Nothing else in the world mattered but Tyler and you needed him as close to you as possible.

When it became clear you weren’t going to let go, he stood up with you still in his arms. Then he carried you out of the destroyed room, wincing with every step as more glass was driven into his feet. A small part of you in the back of your mind felt horrible seeing him in pain but the rest of your brain was still in shut-down mode.

Once he made it across the room, Tyler carried you down the stairs, avoiding debris and broken concrete along the way. And as he reached the parking lot, you heard a familiar voice call out.

“T!” You could just see Boone rushing towards you out of the corner of your eye. “You guys alright?”

“For the most part.” Boone stumbled to a stop when he saw you shivering in Tyler’s arms but Tyler just kept walking. As Boone fell back into step with him, Tyler asked, “Everyone else okay?”

“Y-Yeah. We crammed into your truck and put the augers down just in case, but it barely touched the parking lot. When you didn’t show up…” Boone’s voice was thick as he trailed off.

Tyler nodded. “We tried getting outta the room but the window shattered. We’ve got glass stuck in us everywhere and she hit her head when we were thrown back. It’s bleeding but I don’t think it’s too bad, slight concussion at worst. But I think she’s gone into shock. Dani, can you get some blankets? I’m gonna put her in your van so I can take a better look at her.”

“On it.” 

You hadn’t even realized the rest of the Wranglers had gathered around you until you heard Dani’s voice beside you. Lily placed a gentle hand on your trembling shin but you did not acknowledge it. It was too hard. Everything was too hard. Your head still hurt like crazy, but more than that, you felt like your battery had been completely drained. Even just keeping your eyes open felt like a Herculean task and you could barely grasp what was happening around you for more than a moment before everything drifted away again like smoke on the breeze. The only thing that felt real was Tyler’s heart beating against you.

A moment later, he set you down gently inside Dani and Dexter’s van, positioned so your legs still hung out the door. Kneeling in front of you, he ran his hands carefully over your still-quivering body to see if there were any other injuries he might have missed. When he didn’t find any, he sat back on his heels to look at you.

But you were only vaguely aware of any of this. Your head was hung, staring down at the pavement, looking at Tyler’s bare feet. You felt everything happening, but at the same time, you didn’t, your mind still floating in this strange dissociative space. You saw Tyler kneeling before you out of the corner of your eye, watched his thumb rub circles on your bare knee, yet there was no connection between him and you. It was as if you were watching him tend to someone else while you stood by and watched. 

Someone handed him a blanket and he carefully wrapped it around you, pulling it snugly and tucking it in around you so you were cocooned with only your hands free.

Then, in a voice tinted with concern and care, he murmured, “Hey, sweetheart. Can you look at me?” 

You didn’t want to. You didn’t want to do anything. You just wanted to slip back into the hazy fog building in your mind and forget everything that was happening. But it was Tyler who was asking you to do this, and you didn’t want to let him down. So, fighting every urge screaming at you, you focused all your willpower and slowly lifted your eyes to meet his. 

It was such a small accomplishment, yet Tyler let out a shaky sigh of relief and cupped your face. Voice trembling as a smile stretched across his face, he whispered, “There you are. There’s my brave, beautiful girl. You had me scared there for a minute. But it’s gonna be okay now. You’re safe and we’re gonna take care of you.” 

Someone muttered something behind him and he cocked his head to listen. Tyler scrubbed his hand across his face, but it did little to ease the deep lines carved there in the last half hour or so. But he shook his head.

Turning his attention back to you, he signed. “I have to go check on a few things then I’ll be right back. I’ll try to find us some fresh clothes too. That might make you feel a little better.” It was only then that you realized you were still just in your panties and Tyler’s blood-stained merch shirt while he was in nothing but his boxer briefs. Neither one of you had shoes on, a fact that was highlighted by the bloody puddle Tyler was standing in from all the glass cuts on his feet. But he didn’t seem to notice as he stepped closer to you. “Boone and Dex are coming with me, but Lily and Dani are going to stay with you the whole time and help patch you up, okay? And if you really need me before I get back, one of them will get me. Do you think you’ll be alright?” 

You nodded, or at least tried to. You still felt disconnected from your body and honestly weren’t sure if your head moved or not. But Tyler must have seen some sign of acknowledgment because he leaned forward and kissed you on the forehead. Then he started to go but only made it a single step before turning back. 

Placing his hand on your knee, he said, “Sweetheart, you’ve gotta let go of my hand.” Looking down, you saw your hand still desperately squeezing Tyler’s. With a concentrated effort, you managed to open your fist and Tyler pulled his hand away, massaging it with his other one to get the blood flowing again. Then he gave you a small smile. “I’ll just be a couple of minutes then I’ll be back. I promise.” He shot Dani and Lily a quick look, then disappeared into the crowd that had formed in the parking lot.

Lily sat down on the edge of the van next to you. Gently, she said, "Dani and I want to try to get some of that glass out of you. Would that be okay? It’ll probably sting a little.”

You gave another faint nod, even as you continued to stare at the ground. A moment later, you felt a small pinprick of pain just below your collarbone. Then another on your forehead. And another over your ribs. They didn’t hurt too badly—they felt similar to a mosquito bite—and actually, these slight pinches of pain were helping you come back to yourself. They were grounding you to your body once more. And when Dani pulled a particularly deep piece of glass out of your cheek, you flinched with a slight hiss. She muttered a soft, “I’m sorry” before continuing. 

After they had covered about half your body, carefully removing what glass they could with just their fingers, you finally felt a little more yourself. Your trembling had stopped and your body no longer felt as heavy. Running your tongue across your lips to wet them, you thickly mumbled, “It wasn’t like it was in the truck.”

It was the first time you had spoken since the storm broke, the words hoarse and scratchy from all of your screaming. Dani and Lily exchanged looks, before Lily asked, “I’m sorry?”

Slowly, you raised your head to look at her. “This storm. Being in it. It wasn’t like it was when we were in the truck.”

“No, I guess it probably wasn’t. But it’s over now and you’re okay. And Tyler should be back any minute.” Lily glanced over her shoulder, probably hoping to see Tyler walking back towards the van. But then she turned back to you. “Can we get you anything? Some water or something to eat?”

You shook your head. There was something you needed—the deep gnawing ache in your chest that had been there since Tyler left was the constant reminder of that—but you couldn’t find the words to explain what it was. Maybe it would ease when he returned. When he could hold you again and make all of this go away. Yet, you knew it wasn’t as simple as that. Even once Tyler came back, he couldn’t undo what had happened tonight.

Off in the distance, you heard a voice frantically screaming for someone but you couldn’t make out what they were saying. However, as it got closer, you sat up straight and jerked your head around, coming to life as you recognized the voice calling your name. Both Lily and Dani jumped slightly at your sudden movement, and Dani stuck her head out the side of the van. “Scott! She’s over here!”

A moment later, your brother appeared in the doorway, chest heaving, eyes wide, and dark, damp hair—for once not hidden beneath a cap—plastered to his face. 

With a sob, you threw the blanket to the side and dove at him. “Scotty!” 

You plowed into him, immediately wrapping him in the tightest hug you could manage as the numbness that had consumed you evaporated, leaving you a tearful sobbing mess. Scott stumbled back under the force of your tackle, his body rigid in your embrace. But a moment later, you felt his arms hesitantly wrap around you—lightly at first but soon clinging to you just as tightly as you were to him. You had never hugged your brother like this but as that ache in your chest began to lift, you realized it was what you had needed all along. After everything the two of you had been through and how rocky your relationship had gotten, in the end, what you needed most was your big brother to make things all better.

The two of you remained in your embrace for a long time, both of you relying on the other to keep you on your feet. Then Scott finally pulled away and placed his hands on your shoulders as he looked you over. “When I heard you were here…that there had been casualties…I thought…” He pulled you into another tight hug.

Hugging him back, you sniffed, “Tyler saved me. I didn’t even hear the sirens until he woke me up. Then the window blew when we tried to leave and I hit my head and I…I couldn’t move. I was so scared, Scotty. But then Tyler was there and he got me into the closest and protected me until it was over and he brought me here...and…and…”

You buried your face into his shoulder and began to sob again. Scott rubbed his hand across your back before helping you sit back down in the open back of the van. He gently tried to touch the back of your head but you flinched away. “Sorry,” he muttered as he continued to look you over. “Besides your head, are you okay? I see a lot of blood here.”

“It’s from the glass when their window broke,” Dani interjected. “Both her and Tyler were covered in it. We’ve tried to get as much out as we can but she should probably go somewhere to have a professional make sure it’s all gone.”

“Thank you…both of you.” For once, there was no snark or sarcasm in his tone as Scott addressed the two Wranglers. Placing his hand on top of your head, he asked, “Can I have a minute alone with my sister?”

Dani and Lily exchanged another look, then looked at you. You knew they had promised Tyler not to leave your side, so you nodded to let them know it was okay. They said they’d wait by Tyler’s truck which was farther down in the parking lot while still in view if you needed anything, then they left.

Once he waited long enough for them to get out of earshot, Scott crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. “‘The glass from their broken window’, huh? So…you were with Owens.” 

For the first time, you realized you were still only wearing Tyler’s merch t-shirt—now filthy with dust and blood—which only just covered your panties. Self-consciously, you grabbed the blanket again and wrapped it around you, trying to cover as much of your bare skin as possible. 

“Scotty, I..I—”

But he cut you off by crouching down and placing his hands on your knees. “No, it’s okay. It doesn’t matter. I had no right to tell you you shouldn’t be with him in the first place. And now I’m glad you were together, otherwise I might have lost you.”

Tears filling your eyes once more, you placed your hand on his cheek. “I didn’t know you cared so much.”

“Is it terrible to say neither did I until I thought I was too late?” He dropped his head but you saw a few tears slip out as he squeezed his eyes shut. “I treated you so horribly since you arrived and I thought I didn’t want to have anything to do with you anymore. I was ready to cut you out of my life completely. But the second Javi told me the storm was heading straight for the motel the Wranglers had stopped at for the night, the motel you were only at because you were trying to give me my space…I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. And I realized at that moment that it’s not that I don’t care, it’s that I was afraid of giving you another chance and finding out you hadn’t changed, that you were that same person you were when we were growing up. And nothing hurts more than being rejected or betrayed by those you love, especially family. But that’s exactly what I did to you. And I’m so sorry.”

Sure, this might all be the situation talking and Scott might not feel the same way tomorrow or a month from now, but as he pulled you into another hug, you didn’t care. You finally felt like you had your brother back. 

As you hugged Scott, you saw over his shoulder that Tyler, Boone, and Dexter had joined the two girls by Tyler’s truck. Tyler must have either scavenged some of his clothes from your room or had spares in the truck because he was now wearing a pair of jeans—riding low on his hips due to the lack of his favorite belt and buckle—and tennis shoes, still no shirt. It was the first time you had ever seen him in something other than boots and it felt strange. At least his cowboy hat was settled on his head.

You couldn’t hear what they were talking about. Based on the anxious way Lily had her arms wrapped around herself and Tyler was standing with his hands on his hips as he stared at the ground shaking his head, a deep frown carved into his handsome face, whatever it was it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. Then Tyler lifted his head and looked towards the camper van. His eyes met yours and his frown lifted into a small smile—one that didn’t reach the rest of his face. His green eyes, usually sparkling with life, were now murky and troubled.

He walked over to you just as Scott pulled away, probably hearing someone approaching. Tyler nodded at him and said, “Scott. Do you think I can talk to her for a minute alone? We need to sort some stuff out after…” He gestured to the damaged motel behind him.

Scott nodded. “Yeah. But I’m not leaving my sister. I’ll wait by the front of the van until you’re done.” He started to walk away then paused. “And Ow–Tyler…thank you for protecting her.”

Tyler nodded. “I’m just sorry I couldn’t do a better job.”

Scott nodded again and disappeared in front of the van. 

Tyler sighed and turned back to you, just as you sat back down on the edge of the van. “I, uh, I managed to rescue some of our things from the room.” He placed your backpack by your feet. “I wasn’t sure what you might want to change into so I brought it all.”

“Thanks, Ty.”

His face brightened slightly. “Hey, I missed your voice. Though it does sound a little rough around the edges. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, but it’s not too bad. I can’t remember how long I was screaming. By the time I realized I was even doing it, my throat was already sore. I ca-can’t remember a lot of what happened, honestly. Just the wind a-and hitting my head a-a-and…”

You started hyperventilating as you were suddenly back in the room, Tyler’s face looming over yours as the world crumbled around you. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Tyler cooed as he took your face in his hands. 

It took a moment, but with him grounding you, you were able to pull yourself back under control. “I’m sorry,” you said, leaning into his touch. “It’s just a lot.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Sitting down next to you, Tyler hung his head with a sigh. After a moment, lifting his eyes to yours, he said, “Sweetheart, I need you to go home. Tonight.”

“What?” The panic you had felt before when the storm raged through your room gripped your heart once again as you tried to grasp what he was saying.

“You need to leave Oklahoma. Leave all of this.”

No. It didn’t make sense. Tyler was the one who had asked you to stay longer in the first place. Did your breakdown tonight change how he felt about you? “But Tyler, I thought we—”

“I know. And we were. But tonight just proved I can’t keep you safe. We got lucky this time, but I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happens to you because you’re out here with me. So I need you to go.”

For the hundredth time tonight, tears filled your eyes. In a voice barely more than a breath, you whispered, “I thought you cared about me.”

Tyler’s face shattered and he gathered you up into his arms. “Oh, sweetheart, if I didn’t care so much, I wouldn’t be asking you to do this. I haven’t felt like this about someone for a really long time and I don’t want it to end. But—”

You placed your fingers over his lips, refusing to let him finish that sentence. “Then don’t let it end. Let me stay.”

“And tomorrow when another storm passes through, are you gonna be okay with that? Even knowing that if you don’t go on a chase, a storm may still hit where you are and you’ll end up in the middle of it again?” You opened your mouth to answer but the thought of another experience like tonight made the words stick in your throat. Tyler noticed and nodded. “That’s what I thought.”

You hadn’t given thought to tomorrow or the next day or the next. You knew what happened tonight wouldn’t stop Tyler from chasing the next storm the moment one formed, but you also knew that you never wanted to see another tornado as long as you lived. This meant the two of you were now at odds, neither willing nor able to give in for the other—which meant Tyler was right. You needed to go. 

Yet knowing that and accepting what that meant were not the same thing. Lip quivering, you asked, “So, what? This is just it? I leave and we never see each other again?”

“We both knew that it had to end at some point. Even if you stayed until the last day of your break, you have to go back to school. And I'm heading back to Arkansas when the season’s over. We're just…we're just saying goodbye a little sooner than expected.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye at all,” you said, your fingers digging into his bare shoulders. “Ty, I need you.”

“You might not feel that way in a day or two,” he said sadly. “This was a traumatic experience for you—don’t say it wasn’t because I won’t ever forget that feeling of you trembling in my arms in that closet or the sounds of your screams knowing there was nothing I could do to help you—and I don’t want you to have to relive it every time you look at me.”

“Tyler Owens, you’re the only reason I’m still alive to do anything. I could never look at you like that.”

“You don’t know that. It kills me to say this, but I’m pretty sure that this isn’t over for you. Not by a long shot. I’ve helped enough survivors of these kinds of things to know the signs. And this is going to stick with you for a very long time. Different people deal with things in different ways, but one way you might deal with it may be separating yourself from any reminders of tonight—including me. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re still in pain.” 

 “But what if you’re wrong?” you cried. “What if you’re making me leave and I still want you in my life?”

“I’m not making you do anything. If you decide to stay, I won’t stop you. But I think if you really consider what that means, you’ll see leaving is the right choice.” As you nodded with a small sob, he sighed. “Listen, I’m only out here for a few more weeks. If by then you’ve processed everything that’s happened and still want to see me, I’ll be on the first plane to you. But if it’s all too much and you’d rather just move on…” His thumb gently circled a spot on your arm where they had removed one of the larger pieces of glass. “...then I’ll respect it.”

Snuggling your face into the crook of his neck, you mumbled, “I won’t want to move on. I just want you.”

“Then you’ll have me, sweetheart. I promise.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “But you need to go home until then. Please…for me.”

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself, then nodded. Tyler squeezed you tightly then lifted you off his lap and placed you back onto the van floor. Standing up, he gazed down at you, his eyes damp with tears.

“Scott,” he called out, his eyes never wavering from yours. “Why don’t you take your sister to the hospital to get checked out? Then see about getting her on a flight home tomorrow.”

Scott stepped up to the side of the van. He looked from Tyler to you and asked, “Is that what you want?”

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. “No…but it’s what’s best for everyone.”

Tyler gave you an encouraging smile, putting his hand on your shoulder and squeezing it, and you leaned your head against his hip, savoring his touch while you still could. Scott’s eyes followed every movement. Nodding softly, he said, “Okay. Let me check in with Javi and fill him in on what’s going on. I’ll meet you by Scarecrow in a few minutes.”

As Scott walked away, Tyler pulled you into him as he folded himself over you. Pressing his lips to your temple, he whispered, “Thank you.” Then he stepped back. “Why don’t you go get changed and I’ll walk you over to Scott when you’re done.”

“Or you could help me,” you whispered, peering up at him from under your eyelashes. “For old time’s sake.”

Tyler glanced over his shoulder and then asked, “Are you sure? I don’t know if you’re up for—”

“Nothing like that,” you said, shaking your head. “I just want to be with you as much as possible. Please, Ty.”

He nodded and helped you stand before you both climbed into the camper van. As he slid the door closed, you rummaged through your backpack and pulled out a pair of shorts and a halter top. With a start, you realized it was the same outfit you had been wearing the day you arrived in Oklahoma. The one you had been wearing when you first met Tyler. It felt strangely perfect so you closed the backpack and turned to show them to Tyler. 

Based on the way his eyes softened as they landed on the outfit, he remembered it too. He walked over to you and gathered the bottom of the merch shirt you were wearing in his hands. When you nodded, he carefully lifted it over your head and tossed it to the floor. He inhaled as he saw the cuts that now littered your body from the glass. Gently, he trailed his fingers over a few of them on your arms, then he dropped to his knees in front of you.

As you stood there in nothing but your bra and panties, he grabbed your hips and pulled you close to him. Then he began kissing the cuts across your stomach, starting with the ones just above your panty line. Then he moved up your body, placing a long, lingering kiss on each and every cut. Your eyes fluttered as he reached your breasts—he placed an extra-long kiss on the cut at the top of your cleavage. Then he continues up onto your neck, finally reaching your face. 

But as he started to kiss the cuts on your cheeks, you had waited long enough. You grabbed his head and turned it so his lips pressed against yours. Less than three weeks together, and you had been so sure you never wanted to kiss anyone else after Tyler. Yet, here you were about to walk out of his life, possibly forever. How much had changed in a single night.

Tyler finally pulled away, resting his head against yours. Panting slightly, he muttered, “You should get dressed. We better not keep your brother waiting.”

After you were ready, Tyler walked you back to his truck to say goodbye to the rest of the Wranglers. Until that moment, you hadn’t realized that not only might you never see Tyler again, but you might never see the rest of your new friends again either. That fact brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes. 

As Tyler grabbed a shirt out of his backseat, you tried to hold it together as you bid farewell to each Wrangler. You thanked Dani and Lily for everything they had done for you that night. Individually, you thanked Dani for all of her advice and how she always had your back when you were first starting out with Tyler. You gave Lily a huge hug and thank you for your tattoo. Even after what happened, you had no regrets and would treasure it for the rest of your life. You thanked Dexter for taking you on as his food prep helper and for everything he had taken the time to teach you about food, tornados, and just life in general. Boone was the hardest to say goodbye to since you both looked like you were about to burst into tears. But when you pulled him into a hug, you whispered, “Please look out for him for me” to which Boone nodded and hugged you tighter. 

Taking one last look at everyone, you waved and promised to keep in touch. Then Tyler—now wearing one of his plaid shirts—placed his hand on your back and led you to Scarecrow. As heartbroken as you already felt, you didn’t know how you would survive what came next.

Scott and Javi were standing next to the passenger’s door when you arrived. You held open your arms and Javi stepped forward into them. You thanked him for running interference this trip and apologized again for any uncomfortable situations you put him in. He said he was glad to have helped and to see that you were okay after tonight’s storm. You saw Tyler shift out of the corner of your eye and you remembered what he said earlier. Hopefully, you really were okay. 

When you turned to grab your backpack from Tyler, Javi let out a snort of laughter while Scott made a strangled internal scream. Turning back in confusion, you felt heat rush to your face as you realized your halter top clearly showed off your tattoo. You gave them both a sheepish smile. Javi just nodded, a wide grin spread across his face, while Scott put one hand on his hip while he pinched the bridge of his nose with the other. 

Tyler chuckled as he steered you over to your brother. “Sorry we forgot to mention that, Scotty. But since she became a Wrangler, we let her decide if she wanted to make it official.” His eyes met yours. “And once a Wrangler, always a Wrangler. No matter what.”

“No matter what,” you whispered back, staring deep into his eyes.

Scott groaned as he rubbed his temples. “Could you please just get in the fucking truck? I don’t think I can handle any more surprises tonight.”

 “Sorry,” both you and Tyler muttered at the same time. 

As Tyler helped you climb into Scarecrow, you said one last goodbye to Javi before he walked away and Scott hurried over to the driver’s side. He got in and started the truck, but as your door slammed shut, you motioned for him to put down the window. With a sigh, he did what he was asked. 

Reaching out the window, your fingers curled into Tyler’s shirt, afraid if you let go, he would disappear. Holding back your tears, you choked out, “Don’t you fucking dare forget to call.”

Tyler nodded, a soft smile on his lips even as you saw tears glistening in his green eyes. Dipping his head slightly, he murmured, “Yes, ma’am.” 

He leaned in the window and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a moment. Then he started to pull back, but you wrapped your hand around the back of his neck to stop him as you leaned out the window, your lips crashing into his. If this might be the last time you even saw Tyler Owens, you were going to make it a moment to remember the rest of your life. The kiss wasn’t as passionate or frenzied as some of the ones you shared once you had retreated to your room for the night, but there was a deep desperation there that you felt in your soul. You needed him to know that you didn’t want to leave him. To leave no doubt that you still wanted him despite his fears the trauma of the night would change your mind. 

And most of all, you wanted him to feel the sincerity in your next words.

Pulling away slightly, you whispered, “I still don’t regret a second of our time together. Because I love you, Ty.”

Without hesitation, Tyler whispered, “I love you too, sweetheart. And that’s why I need you to do what’s best for you. Even if that means I’m not a part of that life. Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Thank you.” Taking your hand, he pressed one final kiss to the back of it. “Goodbye, my brave, beautiful girl.”

A tear rolled down your cheek as you said, “Goodbye, my big, bad Tornado Wrangler.”

With a smile and tears in his eyes, Tyler let your hand go and he stepped away from the truck. Before you could change your mind, Scott put the truck in gear and pulled out of the parking lot. 

For several miles, you stared out the passenger’s window, silently crying. Scott glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before turning back to look at the road. “You really like him, don’t you?” You nodded. “Damn. I thought it was just your way of messing with me.”

You sighed. “It was…at first. I remembered you had mentioned him and how much you hated his crew so after what you said to me when I first got here, I thought it would be nice to see you squirm watching us together. But as soon as I started getting to know him, everything changed. I’ve never met a man like Tyler Owens before, and I doubt I ever will again.”

“Yeah, well, despite how he saved you tonight, I’m still not happy to find out he’s been shacking up with my little sister,” he mumbled under his breath.

Turning to face him with a chuckle, you asked, “Do you really think Tyler’s the first guy I’ve slept with?”

Scott’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. “It’s not something I like to think about. But no…I remember those times Mom caught you in high school.”

“Oh my god!” you burst out laughing. “I still can’t believe she never once tried to stop us or ban the guys from the house. She would just turn bright red and hurry back out the room then pretend she never saw anything.” The smile that had bloomed across your damp face suddenly deflated. “Yet the one time they found you with that topless cheerleader, they almost kicked you out of the house.” You closed your eyes. “Scotty, I’m so sorry for how they treated you. Or for how they treated me. Or both. It wasn’t fair and you deserved better than that. I’m sorry I didn’t realize that sooner.”

Scott shifted in his seat. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t fair for me to be mad at you for what they did. You didn’t ask to be treated differently and I shouldn’t have blamed you for something you had no control over. Yeah, you didn’t have to be such a spoiled brat all the time, but I probably would have done the same if I were in your position.”

“So…what does this mean? For us?” you asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know.” His eyes shifted over to look at you once more. “But I’m willing to try if you are.”

“I always was.”

The two of you continued to chat on the way to the hospital, reminiscing about your childhoods and, surprisingly, recalling more happy moments together than either of you thought there were. You guessed they had just been blocked by all the pain and resentment that had built up over the years. 

And as Scott pulled into the hospital parking lot, you couldn’t help but smile at this parting gift Tyler had given you. He could have easily taken you to the hospital and then to the airport—in fact, you were sure it went against every chivalrous bone in his body not to. But instead, he let Scott take you which had given the two of you the time you needed to finally mend that rift between you. 

He had given you your brother back.

Epilogue coming 10/21!!!