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highwaywhump · 10 months ago

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Joey gets a nosebleed and isn’t quite sure how to handle it.

TW/CW: conditioned whumpee, pet whump (not really), whumpee afraid caretaker will hurt him (doesn't happen), nosebleeds and descriptions of blood

The morning had been deceptively calm up until that point. It all starts when Joey’s top lip feels warm. The feeling subconsciously tips him off and he swipes his fingers across his face. They come back bloody.

A part of him he thought was long since gone suddenly awakens and forms a curse on his tongue as drops of his blood drips down onto the kitchen table. He holds his hands under his face and leans back to keep from staining the table further, and instead it drips onto his shirt. When he leans forward again to save his shirt it drips between his legs and onto the kitchen chair he’s sitting on.

“No, no, nonono…” Joey whines desperately to himself as he stumbles backwards and to his feet. The chair scratches loudly along the floor. One of his arms shoot out to help regain balance and he knocks over his glass, spilling the last of his juice on the table and down onto the floor. Joey hiccups something halfway to a sob when he sees the red droplets on the cupboards across the room, which were no doubt flung there during his flailing.

There are tears in his eyes when he finally stills, focusing on breathing. Can he clean this up before Aaron comes into the kitchen to tell him goodbye before he leaves for work? He looks around. Definitely not. There’s juice and scratches on the floor and blood everywhere. He probably can’t even reach the red drops on the cupboard. He doesn’t know where the cleaning supplies are, and even if he did he wouldn’t know which were okay to use on hardwood and which would stain it further.

The only way out is to keep Aaron out of the kitchen and take care of the mess when he’s at work. Joey presses his fingers against his nose and tilts his head back, willing the blood to stop. If he can only clean himself up with paper towels, somehow cover the stain on his shirt and meet Aaron in the hallway to stop him from entering the kitchen at all-

“No, wait, don’t lean back,” Aaron’s voice cuts through his rambling thoughts like sunshine through stormclouds. He has entered the kitchen without a sound - or maybe Joey was too upset about his bleeding nose to notice. Joey whips around and makes a noise that is halfway terrified, halfway questioning. What do I do? To his great despair, another couple of drops fling from his hands and land on Aaron’s shirt - a deadly sin if there ever was one. Joey’s eyes are huge and brimful of tears.

Aaron does not at all seem to mind the blood as he raises his hands up to Joey’s head. Joey doesn’t dare move a muscle. This is it, he thinks as he feels Aaron’s hand at the base of his skull, the other one on his chin. . He’ll choke me out. The other shoe has dropped.

But Aaron only gently presses, and Joey immediately folds, following the pressure until he’s pushed his head forwards.

“It’s dripping on the floor-“ Joey starts to sob.

“We’ll clean it up after,” Aaron says, not missing a beat, and Joey takes the words to heart unquestioningly. “You’re okay, it’s just a nosebleed. Come over to the sink and tip your head forwards.” Aaron’s voice is calm and not rushed at all. He’s not mad, Joey realizes.

He trustingly follows Aaron’s directions and stumbles over to lean his head over the sink. He wants to grip the edge of the sink for balance, but his hands are covered in blood so he ends up holding them in tight, tight fists instead, not quite sure what to do.

“There we go,” Aaron says as the blood drips into the sink, still holding a warm hand to the back of Joey’s head. “We want it out, not down your throat.”

“M-hm,” Joey says through his teeth, not confident to say anything else at the moment.

“Do you think you can pinch your nose shut?” Aaron gently asks, taking a step to the side to try and meet Joey’s eye. “I read somewhere that will help stop it.”

“Y-you do it,” Joey says before sense can get the better of him. But Aaron nods.

“Okay. Tell me if it hurts.” Aaron gently takes hold of the soft flesh of joey’s nose between his thumb and forefinger. Joey is shaking until he feels Aaron’s other hand slightly tighten its grip at the base of his skull. The effect is instantaneous. He relaxes into the secure grip, of which he realizes there have been very few of since he came here. Aaron is always careful and gentle with him, and asks before he touches him, whether it’s verbal or non-verbal. Joey has found he likes that, and still ... the trained, ingrained, good-boy-part of him likes feeling a firm, steady hand.

“Remember to breathe, sweetheart,” Aaron suggests after a few moments, and Joey does as he’s told. Lips parted, he takes measured, steady breaths.

For a minute or two, neither say anything. The blood eventually stops oozing out between Aaron’s fingers, and he loosens his grip.

“I got blood on your shirt,” Joey hopelessly reminds his keeper. “And the cupboards.”

Aaron’s hand moves down to where his neck becomes his spine and gently massages him there with his fingers. Joey feels the tension slowly melt and run down his bones, disappearing.

“I have many shirts and cupboards, Joey. I only have one you.”

tags <3 @simplygrimly @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @briars7 @hackles-up @doveotions

@just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @kixngiggles @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine @nicolepascaline

@whumpthisway @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumping-snail @pumpkin-spice-whump @pigeonwhumps

@whumplr-reader @considerablecolors @dustypinetree @snakebites-and-ink @inkstainsonmyhands12

@taterswhump @hxakfhakbcbqkk

#cw conditioned whumpee #cw blood #cw nosebleed #bbu whump #boxboy universe #this came to me in a vision #not edited #not proofread #enjoy

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ashh-ed · 8 months ago

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oc introduction! :D

in a hopes to participate in Whumptober after quite a few months of being inactive, I thought I’d introduce my ocs who (much to their dismay) will be the victims of my Whumptober pieces! (TW: mentions of drugs, alcohol, death of sibling). This might get really confusing so apologies in advance! :))

the simplified, summarised version is here, and more details of the overall story and character relations are under the cut:

koi - whumpee, mainly following the defiant whumpee trope and emotional/psychological whump

guido - caretaker, sometimes unwilling but overall wants to help (!secret crush on koi!)

cantaro - whumper, mob boss

fab - whumpee, mainly emotional whump but sometimes physical

important side characters:

ciro - fab’s dead brother, subject of koi and fabrizio’s emotional whump

catalina - another caretaker who actually has medical experience so helps guido

now for the in depth introduction for those wanting to learn more about my story! :D note that this takes place in a mafia controlled Buenos Aires - the main thing to know is there are 2 rival families: the Tizianos and Cantaro’s family.

we’re starting off strong with Koi.

Koi is a 24 year old Egyptian male. He’s got loads of tattoos and piercings, and is a pretty tall, strong build guy. Koi works as a sex worker, which is how he got into trouble with Cantaro (the main Whumper of this story). Koi was caught sleeping with Cantaro’s wife and thats how he gets into the whump situation. I would class Koi as a defiant whumpee, and he’s also got a hefty backstory. In short, his lover, Ciro was shot in a drive-by in front of him, when they were 18. This had a huge impact on Koi and led to drinking and drug issues, and he managed to get coerced into being a prostitute and hit man by the Tizianos :( he’s really reluctant to accept any form of help as he feels a lot of shame after being taken by Cantaro which makes for an interesting recovery story.

up next, our caretaker Guido

Guido is also 24, same age as Koi as they’ve been best friends since kids. He was also good friends with Ciro, and was also there that night when Ciro was shot. Guido fled the country and got involved in crime organisations before returning to Argentina to work with the Tizianos there, and he feels slightly guilty about this as he left Koi on his own, being one of the causes why Koi was targeted and forced into prostitution by said mafia family. Guido is not a good person. He is greedy, mean and selfish. But he has a soft spot for Koi because he is in love with him, which he kind of hates but cant help how he feels. He’ll never admit it to Koi obviously. They lived together before Koi went missing and Guido takes care of Koi after rescuing him.

i could never forget Fabrizio

Fabrizio/Fab, is 18, and he is the younger brother of Ciro. This will mean a lot of emotional whump, as the violent streets of Buenos Aires have taken everything from Fab. He is the son of Santos Tiziano, the former leader of the Tiziano crime family, rivals to Cantaro’s family. Fab watched Santos get killed in front of him by Cantaro, but managed to escape Cantaro, for now. Fab is friends with Koi and Guido as they’re part of the crime family, but Fabrizio wants to get out of Buenos Aires, he’s not meant for this life. Fab is really sweet and loves cooking, he ends up moving to Louisiana at age 17 to escape all the crime family stuff in Argentina… but can he run forever?

no matter how essential to the storyline, you could never make me like Cantaro

Eleutario Cantaro (he goes by his last name usually), is a horrid man. He’s the leader of the Cantaro crime family, who openly challenge the Tizianos. Both are fighting for complete control of Buenos Aires, and while the Tizianos seem more powerful for now, the scales often get tipped and swayed. It is said that Cantaro shot Ciro, to weaken the Tiziano family. Cantaro is the main whumper here, and he is very violent and just hates Koi, so prepare for that. He is super power hungry, and wil do anything to gain more power, get revenge etc.

and last but never least, the guy who sort of set the whole story into motion, Ciro

Ciro is the eldest son of the Tiziano family, however he was shot in front of Guido and Koi when he was 18. Ciro was Koi’s lover, although they only got to date for about 6 months before the incident, they had been friends since childhood though. Ciro’s death led to Koi being pulled into the mafia circle properly, as he knew too much by this point to just walk away from the situation, and it also inadvertently led to the death of his and Fab’s dad. Ciro will mainly be mentioned in emotional whump, as Koi loved him dearly, and he was also Fab’s older brother. I am planning to write and post a Ciro death piece on here so that will be fun!

That’s pretty much everything? Thanks to anyone who read all of that, I appreciate you!!! <3

My favourite hobby is talking about my OCs so feel free to ask any questions about them/the story!

#whump blog #whump community #oc intro #koi oc #guido oc #fabrizio oc #ciro oc #my ocs #whump oc

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beautyconsumer · 10 months ago

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Whumperless Whump Event Day 2

A Merciful Angel

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

@whumperless-whump-event Second day! Late but done! Also cross posted on AO3

Relationship: Jason Todd/Grant Wilson

Fandoms: Batman, Batfam, Deathstroke (comics)

Content and TW: delirious behavior, non-graphic injury, hurt/comfort, short & sweet

Honestly? More than painful, or anything else; it was embarrassing.

Being trained to withstand wilderness, taught survival skills, enduring pain and the humiliation of Slade's insults and aggressiveness wouldn't have prepared him for this.

He wasn't even staying there for long, who the hell would want to anyways? Gotham was not a nice city to visit, it wasn't pretty or comfortable to be in. The only reason he was there was because it happened to be on his way.

He should have listened more intently to all the warning and creepy omens about this grimmy place. But Grant knew he wouldn't have listened to a threat until it hit him straight to the face.

In this case, sort of literally.

He groaned weakly, and pathetically writhed over the pavement.

He got hit by a freaking car.

The driver had immediately bailed.

He almost wanted to laugh, but if he did he might rustle his bruised ribs.

He's struggling to catch up with the situation when he takes sight of a figure, the lamp pole of the street illuminated them, creating a halo of warm light over him.

A stark difference among the gritty, blue, gray hues of the city.

Oh man, he must be dying cause he's staring at an angel.

When he finally caught glimpse of the familiar black domino mask and the loud combination of colors, aversion churned in his stomach. The last thing he needed or wanted was Robin witnessing his misery.

Which, of course, Robin's Batman was from freaking Gotham. But from what he last heard the freak had graduated himself from that title.

But these cherubic black curls and kind, worried posture under a bright yellow cape was nothing like the Robin he knew.

A merciful angel taking pity on him.

Grant blinked with drained strength, “Pretty…” he unintelligently mumbled.

The figure looming over him hums, a gloved hand goes over his cheek, and Grant takes in the warmth it produces, then noticing the cold in the rest of his body. His clothes are damp with the dirty puddles of the street.

Another stronger light blinds him, he squeezes his eyes shut.

“Hey now,” a steady patient voice says, “Open your eyes.”

Grant reluctantly obeys if only because he somehow already feels in debt with the beauty he has in front. The light sets on his right eye, Grant takes effort in keeping his eyes open.

“Good,” he says while moving the light to his other eye, voice hypnotizing and soft, “I'm Robin, can you tell me your name?”

Grant felt dizzy, reason not in his reach, yet he somehow knew not to give away information of himself to strangers, despite them looking devine and from heaven itself.

Grant was in casual clothes, he remembers, the lack of his mask noted. He's not overconfident and bold Red X.

Rationally he'd act like Grant Wilson.

But logic is not on the tablet right now.

A giddy crooked smile makes way past his senses.

“You can call me however you want, baby.”

Robin freezes, then quiet tremors rattle his body in what must be chuckles.

Grant's smile widens in satisfaction.

His eyelids feel heavier each second passes.

“No, none of that,” Robin says firmly, “Eyes open. Ambulance is on its way.”

Grant does his best to keep his eyes open, if anything to keep looking at the boy.

Red lights blink accompanied by a loud blaring noise, nausea and shivers set to second plane when said light makes it able to appreciate Robin's features more.

The domino mask can't quite hide his jaw nor the heart shaped form of his face. Those characteristics are gonna be clinging into his mind despite his efforts to keep this damn city out of his hair.

“You're gonna be alright,” Robin says.

Yeah, he's gonna be just fine.

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aswallowimprisoned · 1 year ago

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Day 6 - Doctor becomes Patient

Medic Brunel is attacked by a mermaid, but a familiar face comes to his aid.

Tw bloodloss, medical whump, injury, fainting/unconscious, threat, Dead Dove Jewish vampiric whumpee , religious whumpee, post-captivity, caretaker turned whumpee, whumpee turned caretaker, ex reluctant whumper, gun. Um… spitting on dying people

Masterlist

≪ °❈° ≫

Set way after Restless far from a Wine Dark sea, and may not be canon

RestlessffaWDs' timeline is going off piste for @medwhumpmay

Thanks for proofreading Ace :)

≪ °❈° ≫

There were teeth at his neck, ripping, blood spurting from his neck onto his army medic’s uniform.

Ivan Brunel knew this was probably the end for him.

It was almost funny; how many times had he avoided being bitten by his patients at the mer containment facility, just to have his throat ripped out on the street?

Ivan tried to push the mermaid off him, but the mer venom made him too weak, her grip too strong. The world started to fuzz…

BANG!

At the sound of a gunshot the mermaid released him and he fell to the floor. BANG! He heard her body hit the ground next to his own prone form.

Now he was on the floor bleeding out, the oxygen tank strapped to his back propping him sideways at a strange angle. He managed to bring his hand up to his neck to try and stem the bleeding, but his grip was weak against the blood slicked flesh. Footsteps hurried towards him.

“Oh.” The voice was vaguely familiar. Ivan opened his eyes to see his ex-captive hovering over him, a handgun dangling from his fingers and a haunted expression.“Hello Nurse Brunel.”

It was Nathaniel Fogal.

Fogal dropped to his knees next to him, put his hands around Ivan’s neck and squeezed.

Ivan closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath. It hurt, it hurt like hell, pressure into the gaping wound in his neck...

The hands did not squeeze tighter.

“...Am I doing this right?” Nathaniel asked cautiously, “I know I am meant to put pressure on wounds, but I haven’t done it to someone’s neck before…”

Ivan opened his eyes to look at him.

“...Yes…” he rasped out. Fogal gave him a small smile.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you…out. On the street-medicine kind of things.” Fogal was awkward, his hands clamped around his ex-nurse’s bleeding neck. Fogal’s blue eyes were staring down at him, the reverse of when they were doctor and patient. The merman sniffed the air.

“You are, you are losing a lot of blood, Brunel…” The merman sounded vaguely disappointed. The world fuzzed around Ivan. “I need to stop the bleeding…”

“I have a… radio. I need you to… call for help.”

“I can’t risk being captured again, I can't,” Nathaniel whispered, “If I leave you, you will die. I don’t want you to die, but I can help you. I can help you.”

The slightest relief that Fogal wasn’t going to leave Ivan to die ricocheted through his tired skull, and he felt himself lurch towards unconsciousness.

No, he couldn’t go to sleep…

“Brunel? I am going to spit on you.” Fogal’s words woke him up.

“Whaaa?” Ivan questioned before his brain caught up with him. The vampiric mercreatures had remained undetected for centuries due to their ability to heal their victims after biting them. Not that the mermaid who had bit him had any intention of leaving him alive given the size of the hole she had ripped in his neck.

“It’ll help.” Fogal worked his mouth for a moment, before leaning in close, taking his hands away from the gaping wound.

Ivan shook gently with fear as the predator’s hot saliva ran into his neck. He screwed his eyes shut and hoped Fogal wouldn’t take it personally. How many times had Ivan held the vulnerable merman through drugged hazes knowing that Fogal feared the doctors around him? The least Ivan could do would be to let Nathaniel care for him in return.

The healing saliva tingled in his skin, knitting veins and capillaries back together.

Nathaniel Fogal leaned back from him, placing his hands back on Ivan’s neck.

“It won’t fix it completely, but it’ll help. She was trying to kill you.”

The world was still foggy and Ivan was getting cold, the tips of his fingers numb.

“I am still going into hypovolemic shock.” He informed the merman.

“I…don’t know what that is…can I… what do you need?” Fogal looked around, “You… there’s a big bag it looks like you dropped. Is there anything in there that’ll help?”

Blood loss treatment.

“Yes.” Ivan breathed, “You need to keep pressure on the wound but… I need oxygen. There is a mask attached to the tank on my back. Take the plastic wrapper off… and…” he tried to catch his breath for a moment while Fogal reached a bloodstained hand over his shoulder to fumble for the mask and tore the plastic off with his teeth. Ivan would usually wince at the unsanitary action, but considering he had just been magically spat-on he could hardly complain.

“I remember these things.” Fogal looked at the mask, “It hooks over your ears, right?”

“Yeah…” Ivan used one hand to clumsily help manoeuvre the elastic around one ear while Nathaniel pulled the loop over the other ear, pulling the mask tight against his face “... there is a knob at the top of the tank. You need to turn it to turn on the gas…” The woosh of O2 was glorious, and Ivan dragged deeply on the mask.

He was getting really sleepy. The world was swirling, hazed around the edges now the initial adrenalin spike was fading.

“What’s next?” Fogal asked, “I can reach your bag if there is anything useful in it?”

The bag. Gauze to stem the bleeding next? Neck wounds were awful to bandage. Or a saline drip to start replacing the fluid before he went into further hypovolemic shock? It was deeply unlikely Fogal would be able to place an IV. All Ivan’s training, all the hundreds of times he had treated people, and he could barely muster the brain cells to help himself…

“I…hmm… what do I need?”

“Nurse Brunel, please stay awake, I think you are meant to stay awake…” Nathaniel patted Ivan’s cheek, “Do you… do you not have any drugs that would help? You were always injecting me with stuff…”

“Hmmm, epinephrine. We got these neat small-dose epipens. They’re purple. Epinephrine is a vasoconstrictor, and will prevent the patient’s blood pressure from dropping. Especially if most of the wound has closed…”

“Where is it?” Fogal interrupted him, starting to dump medicines out of Ivan’s paramedic bag. Ivan watched him for a moment, “Brunel, where is the epi-pine or whatever its called?

“It's in my pocket.”

Fogal took only a second to give Ivan an exasperated look, before rooting around in his chest pocket.

“Blood loss has got you fucked up mate… Is it this?” Fogal held up the little purple cylinder.

“Yes. Take off the blue cap, then you are going to have to let go of my neck long enough to shove the orange end into the side of my thigh. Orange to the side of the thigh, and you are going to have to properly stab me with it to get through my medic uniform.”

“Here goes stabbing…” The warmth of Fogal’s hand left Ivan’s neck, and the needle thudded into his thigh. It hurt, but not as much as it would have if Ivan wasn’t in hypovolemic shock.

“Did it work?” Fogal asked.

“Difficult to sa…” The adrenaline zinged into his bloodstream, and he could practically feel his sluggish heart respond. “Yes. Yep, that worked. But now I think… I think that is all you can do, Nathaniel. Will you let me call for help now?” Ivan asked.

Fogal nodded, and helped Ivan’s numb fingers to hold down the button on his radio.

“This is medic Brunel, requesting assistance, I have been bitten and sustained a 32-Charile with major blood loss. Can you…Help. Please.” Ivan trailed off.

“We hear you Bruel, is the area you are in safe?”

Ivan looked at Nathaniel, “Yeah.” He breathed, “A civilian helped me…”

“Hold tight Brunel, we’ll be there in 2 minutes. Over.”

“I’ll wait another minute. Then I need to go.”

“Thanks,” He could nearly rest and let someone else take care of him. He focused on breathing deeply into the mask.

Above him, Nathaniel was muttering away under his breath, a familiar cadence Ivan had heard him utter a hundred times before. Was he - was he praying for his ex-captor?

A tear slipped from his eyes. Nathaniel wiped it away with the back of his hand.

“I need to leave. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you Nathaniel. For this.”

“Look after yourself Nurse Brunel.” Nathaniel clasped his arm.

“Ivan. You can call me Ivan.”

Nathaniel snorted a tiny laugh.

“Ivan. Shalom.”

And the merman returned to his freedom.

a/n Hope the name switching isn’t too confusing, but I love the importance of names in whump.

#whump #whump writing #medical whump #medwhump may #restlessffawds #blood loss #carewhumper #mer whump #vampire whump #caretaker becomes whumpee

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whump-4-ever · 2 years ago

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Here’s just a little something I wrote with my OC Kyrin and his girlfriend Natalie. (If you would like to use this as a whump prompt, Kyrin is the Whumpee and Natalie is the Caretaker.) Since this prompt may have triggers (listed below) for certain people, I have put the cut right before the part where Kyrin has the seizure

Fever Prompt/Illness Prompt/Sickfic Prompt #1

[‼️] Possible TW/CW: illness, convulsive seizure (fever-induced)

Kyrin lay on the bed on his side, curled up into a tight ball as violent, unforgiving fever chills assaulted his body, his muscles spasming beneath fever-flushed skin in silent protest against the disease tormenting his weakened immune system. He let out a groan of agony at the aches and pains that throbbed with each and every shiver, sliding his feet against the sheets. His suffering was as noticeable as fresh blood in the snow, but in the midst of the fever-induced delirium, he hadn’t even realized he was awake; he didn’t acknowledge his girlfriend’s presence either when she spoke, nor had he given any signs that he knew she had been right there with him the whole time, ever since the moment he stumbled into the cabin at around two o’clock that morning and collapsed right into Natalie’s arms.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Natalie whispered, instantly seeing that Kyrin had drifted into a state of semi-consciousness. She quickly stood from the chair she sat in, placed only a few feet from the bed, and leaned over him, caressing his sweat-slicked cheek with a warm, loving palm. “Shhh…… It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re okay,” She murmured as she ran her thumb over Kyrin’s cheekbone a couple times before laying her hand on his forehead, ever so carefully brushing back his sweat-soaked hair.

Kyrin peeled his sticky eyelids apart to reveal glassy, bloodshot eyes. “…..hnnnggg….” He groaned. His gaze slowly but surely locked onto Natalie’s. Immediately upon seeing him watching her, relief crashed down on her at the realization that he had heard her. This was the first time he’d showed any signs of awareness since his very dramatic entrance at 2 o’clock that morning, and it was a good sign.

Kyrin parted his lips just the slightest bit, his intent obvious in the way his jaw trembled, but no sounds came out. He shifted just slightly in frustration, not understanding what was going on and why it was so hard to speak.

“You’re okay,” Natalie repeated, still stroking his forehead in hopes that would keep him calm. There was a soft smile plastered on her face, seemingly a result of the relief she’d just felt, but really it was only there to stop Kyrin from panicking, not because she was happy, because she wasn’t. She was still relieved to see him conscious and aware, of course, but worry for his well-being had been welling up in her chest for awhile now, and seeing him struggling so much just to form words had only intensified that worry. It didn’t help that the amount of heat radiating off of him was much more than what was considered normal, even for a fever.

She drew in a deep breath, attempting to hold back the surge of panic that threatened to overcome her, lying there in the pit of her stomach, just waiting to attack, like a snake preparing to strike its prey. “Y-You have a fever, baby,” Natalie told him softly, trying to keep her voice from shaking.

Kyrin, though he’d made eye contact with her just seconds ago, did not acknowledge her words that time. Instead, his eyes very sluggishly shifted to the side until he was staring off into the distance, the expression on his face now blank.

“Kyrin?” Natalie’s heart leapt into her throat, and that panic in her stomach took its chance to claw its way up to her heart and wrap its cold, merciless fingers around it, squeezing it tightly and sending tendrils of pain all throughout her chest. “H-Hey,” Natalie stammered. She gulped in fear before carefully cupping Kyrin’s cheeks with both hands, gently jostling his head in an attempt to elicit a response. Nothing. He didn’t even blink. “Kyrin?” She rubbed her thumb along his cheekbone like she had earlier, silently begging him to answer, but he didn’t.

It was only moments later when Kyrin’s eyes suddenly rolled up into the back of his skull. His body went stiff at the same time, and a low groaning sound rumbled deep in the back of his throat. Then the convulsions started. Soft, breathy grunting noises puffed out of the young man’s partially open mouth as his entire frame jerked around violently. He was in the midst of a full-blown seizure now.

“Oh, God,” Natalie choked out, feeling sick to her stomach. She already knew what was happening, had recognized the signs of her boyfriend’s fever-induced seizure the second the convulsions began, but it did nothing to quell the nausea.

Despite just barely keeping her emotions in check, she leapt into action, quickly assessing the situation and coming to the concluding that, since Kyrin was already on his side, not much could be done until the seizure was over, but she did what she could. She grasped his shoulder with one hand and his forearm with the other, her grip on both not nearly tight enough to restrain him or restrict his movements but rather a precaution, to ensure he wouldn’t fall off the bed and injure himself.

It felt like everything was happening in slow motion, as if hours upon hours were passing by when in reality it had only been around forty three seconds. “C’mon, Kyrin,” Natalie muttered, biting her bottom lip when she noticed foamy saliva bubbling up in her boyfriend’s mouth.

As if in response, Kyrin let out a few breathless grunting noises, his inhales nothing more than quick, shallow gasping noises, soft wheezing sounds accompanying each one. “Shhhhh….” She hushed him, doing her best to comfort him even in his state of unconsciousness.

After around two and a half minutes or so, the convulsions started to die down, gradually going from violent jerking movements to a series of light twitching motions until finally stopping altogether, Kyrin’s body going still under Natalie’s hands. “You’re alright,” She whispered. She then very carefully maneuvered her boyfriend’s limp, floppy form into the recovery position, making sure to rest his head at an angle that would help him breathe. Once that was done, she pulled the previously-discarded chair up to the side of the bed and took a seat, running her fingers through Kyrin’s hair. “It’s gonna be alright.”

#whump writing #whumpblr #whump community #whump prompt #seizure whump #fever whump #sickfic prompts #sickfic #my ocs #original character #whump 4 ever prompts

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rainysflowers · 1 year ago

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Tosses this out into the eather for the most niche audience I could think of. *NYEAH!!*

After seeing the lovely @species-whump-weekly and waiting excitedly for their Demon prompt list for the purposes of using them against my favorite Mazoku, I decided that it would be fun to do something similar. Therefore, I'd like to offer to you, the whump and Slayers community...

Mazoku Whump Week!!

This is the perfect opportunity to take your beloved Mazoku, be them canon or original, and beat them up (maybe comfort them too) for the world to see! What fun ^^ If this does interest you, please look under the cut for more info and prompts!! If not, then have a lovely day!!

CWs/TWS: Themes of Hurt/Pain, Dehumanization of Non-Humans, Neglect, and Similar Content

ALSO I feel that upon farther community interaction that I should mention to PLEASE write out/tag your entries with content & trigger warnings and the characters involved as to not offend/trigger anyone who may come across it without interest in said character/content!!

Personally, I like to give a general overview of what content is in the media much like my CWs/TWs above, then also add on SPESIFIC tags for worse things like Major Character Death, and finally PLEASE SPESIFY which character you'll be hurting in the media!!

Now, I call it a week because that's the way i formatted it, but there's no timeframe and there's no start date. I just made it for fun and my own enjoyment ^^ All I ask is that you please tag me in whatever you choose to create [Writing, art, GIFs, ect]:)) You totally don't have to be a part of either community to participate, I just made this for Slayers fans specifically because I love that anime <3 They are also more so anime-based, than light novel-based, as a side note.

Prompts are formatted as a single master-prompt, something that sets the theme for the sub-prompts under it, and three sub-prompts that you can write one, two, or all three of!! There are also seven alternative prompts that follow the same general theme of the master-prompts (I.E. alternative prompt one (1) has the same theme as master-prompt one (1) and so forth). !!! Two alternative prompts are based on my personal headcannons, but those are labeled as such, and do not have to be used !!!

Here is the prompt list:

01) Summoned.

1] I’ll Treat You Like My Pet/Dehumanization

2] Defiance/Defiant Whumpee* (*Whumpee refers to the character who is in pain, which is in this case the Mazoku of your choice)

3] Terms and Conditions

02) Used.

1] Losing Control

2] Astral Wound/Pain

3] Magical Exhaustion

03) Misunderstood.

1] Kindness Makes the World Go Round

2] Starvation

3] Botched Shapeshifting

04) Betrayed.

1] Backstabbed

2] Found Out

3] Ritual Sacrifice

05) Returned.

1] Uncaring Master

2] Can’t Go Back

3] Demonic Punishment

06) Inherited.

1] Immortality

2] Bleeding Black

3] Ingrained Morality

07) History.

1] Scars

2] War Never Changes

3] Falling Comrades

Alternative Prompts

1] Orihalcon Restraints/Weapons (Based on a headcanon where the metal Orihalcon is able to suppress the Mazoku's ability to either return to the Astral Plane or negates their ability to be impervious to physical wounds in the real world.)

2] Reluctant Caretaker

3] Presumed Dead (Based on a headcanon where if a Mazoku is injured enough, they must ditch their assumed form to return to the Astral Plane, leaving them looking like a corpse in the Human World.)

4] “I can’t believe I trusted you.”

5] Assassination (Attempts)

6] “I thought that you couldn’t love?”

7] Survivor’s Guilt

Here is the Prompt List in a Google Doc:

Thank you so much for checking out this post, sorry for the crappiness lol, I just wanted to share some stuff. Ill be back sooner or later, and if you have any questions, please send them on in ^^ luv yall with the strength of a thousand suns <3 Have a good day, night, and whatever else!!

#🌧op #whump #whump community #whump event #whump prompts #slayers #the slayers #Writing #Writing Prompts #I hate tagging things #🌧eviltag

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lancedoncrimsonwings · 9 months ago

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Augusnippets Day 18

Path of Whumperless Whump + Comfort Prompt; "Infection" + "Singing" + "Feverish Caretaking" Part 3

Day 18 of @augusnippets August 2024 Whump writing challenge! (Augusnippets Masterlist)

Characters;

- POV/Caretaker: Gawain - The Green Knight

- Lancelot - The Weeping Monk

(Character Masterlist)

(Ao3 Link)

Wordcount; 752

TWs; feverish caretaking, infection, fever.

Continuation of Day 5 & Day 9

Gawain hummed softly as he tied off the last bandage across Lancelot's back, the source of his fever evident from the troublesome infection raging within several of the lashings there. For the last three days, Lancelot had lain here, battling, Gawain ever at his side.

The fever had yet to break, but Gawain knew it in his heart that it must soon; either Lancelot would succumb to this infection or he would defeat it, and the precipice of which would win out was fast approaching. Lancelot's body shuddered and quaked, the heat pouring off of him had long since caused Gawain to shed his tunic down to his undershirt and even then he still sweat profusely- though not nearly as much as Lancelot, who's drenched skin glinted in the candlelight.

"Come on, Ashman. Are you going to let a little fever beat you?"

Lancelot had fought far worse than this. And yet... Gawain couldn't help the fear that he'd been sick too long now, that it wasn't getting better. The lingering scent of sickness had grown more sinister as of the past day, now more akin to the scent of death, clinging to Lancelot like a malevolent cloud.

"I remember when Nimue was but a young girl," Gawain began, soaking the cloth again and perching on the bed next to him. "She had a fever for three days. 'Twas not long before I left Dewdenn, but I remember how she shook."

Lancelot trembled beneath his touch.

"Lenore would sing to Nimue, you know, as she slept," Gawain wiped Lancelot's brow, watching his heartbeat as it pounded furiously in his neck which alongside his ever laboured breathing had done naught but worsen over time.

"Told me that was a part of the healing, these songs. Lenore taught me them, though I suppose I've never had cause to try before..."

Gawain took a deep breath, willing the Fingers of Airimid to rise to the surface. They came willingly, swarming beneath his skin like they could feel what he was about to do. Carefully, Gawain splayed his hands over Lancelot's chest and shoulder, watching as a vine seemed to creep into Lancelot's skin, a golden leaf shimmering up over the Ashman's collarbone.

"Gang ût, nesso," The words were like invoking a distant memory as he closed his eyes and began to sing. "mid nigun nessiklînon..."

He could feel it like a steady drain of his own strength as the spell began to form. Undeterred, he sung;

"Gang ût, nesso, mid nigun nessiklînon,

Ût fana themo margę an that bên,

Fan themo bêne an that flêsg,

Ût fan themo flêsgke an thia hûd,

Ût fan thera hud an thesa strâla...

...Drohtin, uuerthe sô!"

Again did he sing the verses, over and over, until dawn had begun to break on what was now the start of the fourth day.

"Arawn uuerthe sô." Gawain whispered, falling silent, feeling the fingers of Airimid recede as they settled down once more beneath his skin. He opened his eyes to a wave of exhaustion that washed over him, quite remarkably tired now.

With a glance at Lancelot he could see those harsh lines of discomfort had faded away, his breathing was deep and calm, the vein still throbbed in his neck but his heartbeat had slowed too, strong and steady it beat.

It took Gawain a solid moment to realise what else had changed.

No longer did waves of heat radiate from the Ashman, like the rest of him, it had soothed.

His fever had finally broken.

"Thank Arawn..." Gawain whispered, half to himself, daring to try to stand from the bed now and finding his legs had turned to jelly as he quickly thumped back down into his chair.

"g-Gawain?"

Lancelot's voice was weary and hoarse, and his eyes were bloodshot as he blinked blearily up at him.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Gawain hummed, with an affectionate smile. "Did you have a nice nap?"

Lancelot grimaced, wiping his hand over his face and raising a wry eyebrow towards him.

"...no. No, I did not," came the fairly understandable reply.

"How are you feeling?" Gawain grabbed his own waterskin from the side, passing it over to the Ashman, who was attempting to sit up, Gawain aided him with a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"Ugh... Like I pissed off Goliath... and he stomped all over me." Lancelot replied, accepting the water with a grateful smile. He took a deep swig, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"So, better, then?"

Lancelot chuckled lightly.

"A little."

I sorta ran out of time to edit this one down any further, whoops. What started off this morning as a 75 word idea spiralled quickly...

The song Gawain sings is called "Nesso" by Heilung;

The lyrics are taken from the words of an ancient healing spell from early Medieval Europe that was preserved by the clerics of the Church in a passage called "Contra Vermes" from the 9th Century! The spell itself was originally to draw sickness from a horse, but works well enough for this. Translation as follows;

"Go out worm, with your nine little ones, out from the marrow to the bone, from the bone to the flesh, out from the flesh to the skin, out from the skin (in)to this arrow, Lord make it so" and I added "Arawn make it so" after the Fey Deity Arawn. Thought I'd throw in a little nod back to Gawain and Nimue's relationship in the book and a few moments from the series into this one! Thanks for reading, onto the next!.

#augusnippets day 18 #augusnippets 2024 #augusnippets #tw: fever #tw: feverish caretaking #tw: infection #whump #whump writing #Spotify

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serickswrites · 1 year ago

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Heroes and Villains One Shots IV

People Don't Change--TW: bruises, broken bones, bloody nose

Tell Me Now--TW: threats of death, mayhem, destruction, blood, knife, stabbing, self sacrifice

Think of the Children--TW: destruction, explosions, threat of death, revenge

Hell--TW: blood, injury

How Long--TW: presumed dead

Prop--TW: threats of death, violence, physical violence

Civilian held hostage request--TW: hostage situation, guns, gun point, threat of death, physical violence

Strands--Hero doesn't want to get out of bed

Cracking Ice--TW: blood, injury, wounds, impaling, threat of death, unclear character status

Clear Away--TW: left for dead, wounds, bruises, broken bones

This Is Gonna Hurt--TW: blood, wounds, arrow, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery

Accept--Hero makes Villain an offer

Yank--TW: threat of death (perceived)

What's In a Name?--a fae being asks for a human's name

Nowhere Else to Go--TW: captivity, bruises, torture, escape

Just Get It Over With--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, self sacrifice, death, mcd, grief, hurt/no comfort

Breakdown--TW: kidnapping, torture, restraints

So Good--TW: explosion, crush injury, blood, unclear character status

Suffer the Children--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, whipping, blood, cruel whumper

Villain kidnaps Hero's adventurer request--TW: captivity, restraints, gag, creepy/intimate whumper

Right Here. Right Now. --TW: hidden injury, violence, blood, unconsciousness, unclear character status

In Time--TW: kidnapping, destruction, rescue attempt, cruel whumper

I Would Believe You--TW: blood, injury, wounds

Did This--TW: bloody nose, bruises

Villain tortures Hero request--TW: captivity, restraints, torture, bruises, broken bones, blood, catatonia

Jaded--TW: physical violence, falling from a great height, broken bones

Tell Me How It Feels--TW: physical violence, blood, broken bones, destruction, mayhem

Supervillain and Civilian are friends request

Hero Gets Impaled--TW: physical violence, threat of death, self sacrifice, blood, impalement, unconsciousness

Half of My Heart--TW: restraints, blood, heart break, destruction

I Did This--TW: scars, referenced torture, pride

Villain forced to caretake for Hero request--TW: captivity, torture, barbed wire, blood, restraints, torture, infection, caretaking as a form of whump, unconsciousness

Cowardice--TW: threat of destruction, taunting

Don't Think--TW: physical violence, bruises, broken bones, exhaustion

Imagine--TW: mention of death

Rookie Hero request--TW: captivity, restraints, threat of death

Hero is hurt by Supervillain request--TW: physical violence, head injury, unconsciousness, blood

Villain kidnaps Hero's love interest request--TW: kidnapping, captivity, restraints, torture, electrocution, forced to watch, blackmail

Slow You Down--TW: escape, captivity, torture, restraints, bruises, beating, broken bones

Not Qualified--TW: blood, wounds, gunshot wound, bleeding, hospital reference

I Already Have--TW: mass destruction, manipulation

Just Watched--TW: blood, gunshot wound, character death, revival

Asshole--TW: sprain

Citizen Detective

Civilian dating Villain request

I Never Wanted This--TW: blood, injury, wounds, stabbing, betrayal

Nowhere--TW: blood, injury, desperation, choking, unconsciousness

Call--TW: threat of death, rescue

I Didn't Ask for This--TW: destruction, blood, wounds

Anymore--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, blood, wounds, hopelessness

Go to Sleep--TW: referenced captivity, referenced torture, hurt/aftermath, hurt/recovery, hurt/comfort

Let Them Go--TW: captivity, torture, restraints, rescue, hurt/aftermath

Send the Pain Below--TW: loneliness, death, dead things, necromancy

I Would Make You Stay--TW: destruction, mind control, blood, mcd, grief

Pick--TW: captivity, restraints, threat of death, bruises, blood, forced to choose, forced to watch, begging

Hero x Villain sicfic request--TW: fever

Unstable--TW: shock, electrocution, power instability

Right?--TW: destruction, violence, explosions, fear

Villain loves Civilian request--TW: kidnapping, restraints, drowning, forced to watch, mcd, hurt/no comfort

Whipping Whump request--TW: restraints, whipping, blood, torture, unconsciousness

Whumpee returns to Whumper request--TW: captivity, torture, escape, stockholm syndrome (kinda, idk this is a complex feeling idk how to describe)

Hero passes out request--TW: physical violence, fever, fainting, unconsciousness, reluctant caretaker

Sore--TW: referenced physical violence, referenced restraints, hurt/aftermath, hurt/comfort

Slammed--TW: physical violence, destruction, unconsciousness, blood, injuries

Grounding--TW: electrocution, violence

#serickswrites #not writing #writing organization #hero x villain community

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its-my-whump · 2 years ago

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27 Checking for a pulse (Alt 1)

TW: unconsciousness, gore, desperation, probable death?

There was dust just everywhere. He felt dust under his hands, he was coated in it. He smelled dust in his nose, he tasted dust on his tongue. It was on his skin, in his hair, in his eyes, on his clothes. The earpiercing bang of the explosion was still ringing through his head, bouncing back and forth.

But most of the dust around him had already settled. How long ago did the timer run out? How long ago did the bomb go off? How long ago did the ceiling or actually the building came down on them?

Them?

Caretaker finally came out of his daze with a start. His eyes flew open. He wanted to sit up out of reflex, without really knowing, that he had apparently been laying down. His upper body bolted upright. But sudden pain in his back and legs, a general sourness in all of his muscles and his head on the verge to explode as well, let him crumble to the side immediately. Almost every part of his battered body seemed to have flared up. It took his breath away. Caretaker needed to steady himself by desperately holding onto the dusty ground. Even behind closed eyes the world was moving too fast.

A few deep breaths helped him to get his bearings back and a good mouth full of dusty air in. He cought, his ribs protested badly. A bloody hand went for his rib cage and he managed to steady himself.

"Kiddo?" His voice was only a raspy crackle.

After some time he scrambled to his knees and started to search his surroundings. "Kiddo?" Caretaker's voice was still scratchy, but it had turned into something audible. He cought again. Light was floating through big cracks in the not-existing ceiling, so he could see at bit. Still, Caretaker mostly found his way around by his hands touching debrise in the darker corners. His eyes still needed to adjust.

"Talk to me, man. Where are you?" At first he was just dazed and disorientated, but by every minute passing without a responds Caretaker's panic rose. He had started to move debris from here to there. Whumpee had been a few feet away, when all hell broke lose, but he just couldn't find him.

Caretaker's palms were more bloody. By now, he was shoveling rumble with his bare hands.

"WHUMPE...?" The name of his friend got stuck in his throat, when Caretaker got a glimps of a shoe sticking out of a pile of ceiling parts and debris.

He instandly crawled towards his finding. His hand hesitanty touched his friend's foot. "Whumpee?" But there was no reaction to his light squeezing. His breath hitched.

A brief moment of shock and than Caretaker frantically started to remove everything, that was burring whumpee. His own pain forgotten.

"KIDDO? Come on, talk to me." He pulled big parts of concrete from the still form of his friend and lay bloody clothes free. The denim around the left leg was soaked and what he could see of his right hand, awkwardly stretched out, was bruised. Caretake pushed a segment from the air shaft away and was greeted by two big red stains on his friend's hip and shoulder. Whumpee was laying on his side, his head turned away from Caretaker. But there was blood in his dusty hair. "Ki...kiddo?" Caretaker didn't dare to breath. Whumpee hadn't even stirred under his handling.

Big tears suddenly made their way down his cheeks, trailing a path over dusty skin. His hands were trembling all of a sudden. Caretaker reached out only so slowly. He couldn't think about the possiblity of his friend being...

2 dusty fingers touched whumpee's neck, searching. But he couldn't find a sign of life. He didn't feel anything. 'No no no. This couldn't be.' Caretaker couldn't breath. 'This wasn't real. It just couldn't be.' More tears were falling. Great emptiness settled inside his heart. "Kiddo? No! Please! NO!"

Desperate hands grabbed for whumpee's shoulder and rolled him over all so gently. One arm limpy fell to the ground. His face was shockingly pale, half of it was covered in blood, also coated in a thick layer of dust, but yet so ghostly white underneath. He looked kind of peacefull, despite of all the bruises and gore covering his skin.

Caretaker couldn't cope. A hiccuping sob escaped him. His hands hovered over the lifeless body. He wanted to shake him to wake up, he wanted to yell at him to cut it out, he wanted to slap him to open his eyes. But he only lay his head on his friends torso and closed his eyes. More tears found their way down dusty trails on his cheeks and dropped onto whumpee's bloodstained shirt, coloring the grey dust into little black pools of mud.

It was deadly silent. The settling dust seemed to actually be falling like grey snow, muting the world. A distand thud...

thud...

...

thud...

...

thud...

It wasn't distant Caretaker suddenly realised. It was a heartbeat.

It was slow and faint, but it was a heartbeat.

My whumptember2023 masterlist

#whumptember2023 #Whumptember2023 day 27 #altprompt one: checking for a pulse #whump #writing #whump writing #writblr #whumpee #whumpee caretaker

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unhonest-iago · 1 year ago

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Whump Fic Masterlist

Note; all the tws are dddne

A/B/O thoughtsies; Some A/B/O whump prompts [tw mentions of rape, pedophilia, necrophilia, + descriptions of medical abuse]

Above all else, I must not play at God [tw kidnapping, injuries, medical trauma, shackles]

Tinnitus [tw ableism, straitjacket, infections]

Undead [tw cannibalism, kidnapping]

Geoguessr [tw stalking & doxxing]

Guarded

Allergens [tw purposefully triggering someone's allergies]

Really Made them Blossom [tw intox]

Siphon [tw toxic relationship, manipulation, magic induced injuries]

Stress [tw torture, stress positions, purposely making a chronic illness worse]

Immortality [tw murder]

Revolving Door [tw drugging, psychological & physical torture, & vomit mention]

Avox [tw threat of mutilation]

Mirrors [tw self harm, tickling]

Whistle [tw ptsd]

Some whump/whump-adjacent stuff I liked before knowing what whump is

Outbursts

Pov; your partner kidnaps you asmr [tw kidnapping, choking, implied torture & murder]

By the Seat of My Pants [cw wetting oneself, impure regression]

Piercings [tw cutting someone's tongue out]

Patient

Merry Go Round

Impure Regression + Whump [cw impure regression, restraints, ptsd, & medical content]

Belt Time [tw abuse/implied abuse, corporal punishment]

Nesting; omega! whumpee invites alpha! caretaker into their nest

Loaded Weapon [tw brainwashing, cw violent imagery]

Tracker [tw stalking, implied grooming, & medical procedures]

Guinea Pigs; Beta! whumper forces Alpha & Omega! whumpees into an unethical experiment where their bond is continuously destroyed and then rebuilt as a form of revenge [tw drugging, kidnapping, unethical experimentation, forced mating, cheating]

Are You Okay? [cw mental illness]

Ocs

Whump Oc Intros

One Day at a Time; how Cecilia helps Tobias with the healing process

Swing low, sweet chariot; a hiccup occurs when Tobias goes through exposure therapy for muzzles

#fic library #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #masterlists #masterposts #whump masterlist #whump masterpost

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bltzgore · 1 year ago

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Jirra, typically caretaker, a drake shape shifter who appears half drake even in human form clocking in at 6'6, comes back from a job (currently as a hitwoman) too torn up to take care of it herself. Enzo, typically whumpee, a siren type creature standing at 5'10, has to step up when his ex-gladiator-caretaker won't go to medical (like a responsible adult) and almost won't let him touch her.

Tw: gore, wound description, blood, strong languge, (neither of them are human but that doesn't really effect anything), lady whump

Jirra held her head up high as she walked through the compound, and she would let absolutely no one see just how hard that was for her to do.

The edges of her vision were graying significantly, and the floor constantly tried to reach up for her. Jirra just tensed her jaw and kept walking. She didn’t have to worry about being stopped by anyone, no one but North would risk talking with her and she didn’t think he was out wandering the compound this late at night.

She reached her room and pressed the door open. The force required brought up a spike in pain that almost had control of her voice. Jirra bit down hard on the inside of her mouth, and said nothing. She shoved her way into the room, closed the door behind her to the best of her abilities and almost collapsed. She staggered forward just far enough to reach the adjacent wall, then threw her weight against it before the room spun out from under her feet.

Jirra wanted to lie down, wanted to sleep beneath the earth like the old gods for the next hundred years, or at least until everything stopped hurting so much. She caught her eyes starting to drift shut and she shook her head trying to cast out the deep and heavy drowsiness that she knew was coming from a dark red place on her torso.

Jirra needed to clean, and close these wounds before she could sleep. Or she’d get her wish and never wake up. Her healing factor was strong, but it wasn’t strong enough to handle this without some help. So, she looked down at the gear on her chest: jacket, scabbard straps meeting in the middle, armor, then under shirt. Fucking terrific. That didn’t even take into account getting at the bullet wounds on her leg.

Fuck, everything felt so heavy…

Jirra snapped her eyes back open, shaking her head again, this time that left the room spinning so much she had to shut her eyes voluntarily and press her head to the wall to keep from collapsing. If she fell she wouldn’t be getting up again, and she didn’t imagine the odds of getting her gun belt and pants off were all that good from the floor.

Another deep breath stole patches of her vision towards the end as it aggravated cracked ribs, and she decided it wasn’t going to get any easier. Jirra put her weight into her shoulder against the wall and with the other arm reached down for the clasps within range, the one for her gun belt and the scabbard. At least that wasn’t too difficult, the only trouble she faced there was the increasing tremor in her hand. However taking this layer of gear off was another matter altogether. Her jacket had a hole in the back where the straps on her scabbard could pass through, to take the scabbard off she’d have to get her jacket off too. Then there was the gun belt. It wove through the belt loops at her waist and the ladder two clasps were on her legs, too low for her to reach without bending her torso. Something she couldn’t imagine doing just then without blacking out.

Jirra stopped, leaning into the wall a bit heavier for a moment as her vision blurred of its own accord. She couldn’t do this. She needed to find some easier way to treat this, some temporary solution that she could throw at this mess to buy enough time for her healing factor to kick in. She racked her brain for a quick fix, but there was nothing in her reach, hell, she wasn’t even sure she could reach her own first aid kit. How the hell was she supposed to stitch that shit shut with her vision fucking around?

Her arms bent at the elbow and she fell from holding herself up on her hands to her forearms. Jirra pressed her forehead into the wall, just trying to stop the room from shifting again. It wasn’t working, but there weren’t any other options, if she didn’t dress it she wouldn’t stop bleeding soon enough.

Jirra shifted back to pressing her side into the wall and felt around for her belt, trying to free it from the loops just enough that she could get free. If she could get the standing stuff out of the way she could sit for the rest, and that would be easier at least. She felt around, trying to pull the gun belt from the loops on her waist. She couldn’t get her muscles to quite cooperate. Jirra felt the buckle catch on one of the loops, her brain was losing traction, she couldn’t quite finagle it properly, and she couldn’t pull it hard enough in her current state to just brute force it. Her brain was about to rush her with another wave of hopelessness when someone said her name from the door.

“Jirra?”

Enzo? Fuck, she hadn’t heard him come in, not a good sign. Her eyes couldn’t really focus on him, only pick up the vague shape and the smear of colors. What was he doing up? What did he want? Could he see the blood?

Instead of any of that Jirra managed, “What’re you doin’ ‘ere?” She hadn’t been prepared for how badly her words slurred, even bent downwards into a growl.

He must have only noticed the growl, because his tone changed rather quickly, “I noticed your door was open a bit and I-I thought you might have gotten back a bit early. I wanted to say hi, but-but if this isn’t a good time I-” He paused, like he had seen something. “Is-is that blood?”

Fuck.

“No.” She managed as clearly as she was able, though she couldn’t tell herself exactly how clear that was. “Fuck off.”

He didn’t.

“Jirra, you’re bleeding.”

Suddenly he had gotten a lot closer. Jirra growled and pissed off her ribs.

“Y-you’re-”

“I said-” she took a break to steady her voice, “Fuck. Off.”

He flinched but only a little, “But you’re hurt. Y-you need to go to the medic.”

“‘Ell no. I deal ‘ith my own shit.” The room was leaning, or maybe she was. Jirra sunk her claws into the wall, to keep from going down.

Enzo’s breathing picked up as it looked like Jirra was about to fall, then managed to even out a bit as she caught herself. “Well- well, what do you need to do to, you know, fix it?”

Jirra turned back to the wall in an attempt to get her bearings back, “Gotta get the gear ‘ff, ‘n stitch it.” She needed to clean it and cover it too, but explaining that apparently took brain power she didn’t have.

“I could-”

“No.” She was not fucking around this time. She did not let people touch her injuries, not since the ring. Not since she was given a choice. She turned and tugged her claws from the wall, fixing her unfocusing eyes on Enzo and snarling. She meant to tell him to leave again, but half way into turning she lost contact completely.

When Jirra could see again she was on the floor gasping. Her ribs were on fire, torching any oxygen she managed to get past her mouth. Her leg was ripping itself open with each heartbeat, and then there was the main event. It was burning so bad it was practically numb, but not in a way she couldn’t feel, in a way that was sort of like the pins and needles feeling except with real excruciating pain. Not pins and needles, 3rd degree burns and buckshot.

Enzo had at some point knelt next to her. He had his hands out like he meant to touch her but he didn’t. “Jirra! Are you-?! Can you hear me?”

She couldn’t quite get her words to work, at least not without some reflexive admissions of pain. So she just nodded. She started shifting one of her arms clumsily arranging it beneath her, looking for a spot to get enough leverage to start climbing off the ground.

“No! No, stop!”

She looked up again, blinking a few times.

“Don’t get up, you’ll-you’ll just fall again! Stay there, I’ll get the medical kit, you can tell me what to do.” He stood up and rushed to her dresser, rooting through the second drawer and coming away with the bag. He set it down next to her, and sat back down.

She was going to fight him on this. She would have. If her arm hadn’t given out the second she had tried to put weight on it. She was stranded, just like she used to be. Back against the wall and too weak to stand, fully at the mercy of the being in front of her. Something about that realization caused her to try and draw on some reserve of energy her instincts thought she still had. She made a movement that was far too fast and sent her nerves reeling and taking her vision with it.

Jirra snapped back to Enzo panicking and shaking her shoulder. Coming out of that in the state she was in, touch was never welcome, but now it was actively discouraged. Jirra snarled and must have tried to scratch him, because Enzo recoiled with a yelp. That almost put her back under, but she shut her eyes tight and managed to wait it out.

Opening them this time Enzo was a foot or two away. His body language was still on guard, but his face hadn’t gotten the memo. He looked worried, no, he looked scared. She was scaring him, but not with her claws.

He reached towards her slowly, “Jirra, you’re really pale.”

She flashed her teeth, growling lowly, but there was nothing left. No fuel left in the furnace.

So when Enzo’s hand reached her this time, showing her teeth weakly was about all she could do. She closed her eyes, and braced.

Enzo waited a moment, he couldn’t quite detect the tension in her muscles. She just looked unconscious. “Jirra? You’re scaring me. Are you awake?”

She looked back up to him, waiting for what would happen next.

“O-ok, um I’m going to try and do what you said before, ok?”

When she didn’t answer him he decided to try his luck. He went for her jacket first, and that got a growl, but not a strong one, and no other resistance followed it. So he kept going. Jirra was lying on her side, so he knew he could get one side free, but he wasn’t sure what he was going to do after that. Still, he had to do something. He tried to pull the jacket sleeve off, then went to grab her wrist to help get it free. The second he touched her she flinched violently. Which in turn actually scared him into dropping it. Once he recovered his wits he tried again. But this time Jirra had tucked her arm against her chest to keep it away from him.

“Jirra, I can’t do this alone. I’m trying to help you, but I-I need you to help me too.”

She let him guide her arm, first away from her chest, then through the sleeve of her jacket. He couldn’t really do much with it past that, so he just kind of let it fall between her back and the wall.

The body armor was a lot easier, it was just four more clips, two he could reach and two Jirra was lying on, so he left those. As he pulled it to the side the scabbard straps fell away with it. And that just left the undershirt, a black tank top.

Enzo reached for it and noticed that Jirra’s eyes were open again. She had shut them tight while he’d been pulling the armor and jacket away, as unknown to him he had been jostling her cracked ribs. But she knew what came after the body armor.

Her breathing had picked up, the most defined breathing Enzo had seen from her this entire time. It caused her whole torso to shift, painfully in fact, but she was too on edge to care. Her eyes were shifting between him and his hand, they were so sharp, they looked animal. It was as much threat as it was fear. A warning, if you do this… but there was nothing she could do to stop him like this. Everything hurt, and was far too heavy to move. All she had left was this.

The first thing Enzo noticed when he touched the shirt, it was wet. He thought it was sweat at first, but then he looked at his fingers. His eyes widened. It was blood. He swallowed and started to peel up the rest of the shirt. As it pulled away from the vaguely coagulating blood Jirra saw white and wretched, making a sound not at all human.

Enzo flinched, stuttering his way through an apology when he finally got to see the extent of the wound on her torso. His breathing sped up, “Oh my God. Oh my God. Jirra-! There’s- there’s so much blood!”

It was a slash mark, a deep one that started just above the base of her ribcage and traveled down to the left stopping a few short inches above her waist line. He could see the bone of her ribs, and the organs in her stomach.

“Oh my God!” He clapped a hand over his mouth and looked away. He might be sick.

It might have been seeing it, it might have been seeing Enzo’s response, but something brought sense to the front of Jirra’s very loosely tethered mind. “Stitches ‘n disinfectant.” She muttered through a mouth that felt filled with glue.

That caught Enzo’s attention, and he tried to swallow back his fear, “D-d-disinfectant? W-which one is that?”

Jirra blinked slowly, trying to clear the fog away, “Clear plastic bottle.”

He picked it up, trying not to notice the blood his fingers left on it, “Ok, I got it. H-how much should I use?”

Jirra’s head was getting heavier, “‘Fuck ton. Jus’ be fast.”

Enzo nodded, shutting his eyes, “Ok, ok, ok.” He had no clue what he was doing. So he took the cap off and just poured it into the slice.

Jirra hadn’t been ready for that. Her entire body reacted, or tried to. She took a breath on reflex which fired up her ribs. She quickly corrected it, taking shallower ones. The tension in jaw might have cracked a tooth, as she gritted out the only word her mind gave her access to, “Fuck.”

Enzo was so panicked he was almost crying. “I’m sorry! Did I do it wrong?”

Jirra got herself somewhat back under control. “No. Jus’ close it.”

Enzo nodded again, “Stitches, right.” Looking back into the medical kit, he found the thread and the needle. He fumbled with it at first, struggling to thread it. He rubbed the tears from the edge of his eyes then tried to focus. Jirra couldn’t do this on her own, and if he couldn’t- was there time to get North? It didn’t seem like there was. He needed to do this as quickly as he could, then he could get North to fix it or something. Surely he’d know how to fix this. But first he had to close the wound, and stop the blood.

Enzo got a sure grip on the needle, and tried to pick a place to start. He tried to start at the top, but seeing her rib made him a bit nauseous, so he decided to start from the bottom. Sewing flesh was nothing like sewing fabric, something he was quite practiced at. He had to press a bit harder to get the needle all the way through, and the sides of the wound were so far apart that he had to pull them together to make it work, another thing that made him queasy, but he suppressed it after the first few stitches. He wasn’t sure how close to make them. He couldn’t imagine that stitching people was like stitching pillows. Granted he did use a similar stitch to the one he used to use on the pillows. As he pulled it tight and drew the sides together Jirra would groan, and he would immediately fumble apologies and try to be less rough. Then she would slur that she was fine and not to stop. Outside of that, they didn’t speak much. Jirra didn’t seem to want to talk to him, she didn’t even want to look at him, though that could have been the blood loss.

As he finished up he wondered what he was supposed to do next. Disinfecting it again seemed like the right call, so he poured a bit more. Jirra responded, but not much. There was still blood everywhere but he didn’t think cleaning all of that away was immediately life threatening, and possibly a bit more invasive than he felt he should be right then. He figured he was supposed to bandage it, that’s what people did with wounds regardless. He stepped away for a moment to wash his hands then grabbed some gauze and debated between the medical tape and the bandages. When he remembered he couldn’t get Jirra to move enough to actually wrap the bandages he decided on the tape.

He needed more than one square of gauze, and very quickly realized he needed two hands for the medical tape. So he applied the tape to the gauze on one side, then stuck it in approximately the right palace. Once he had the wound covered he went back and secured the gauze properly.

Jirra had let her eyes close about two stitches in for various reasons, but she hadn’t passed out. As Enzo finished with the bandaging she dragged a few words through her mouth. “Wrap, m’ leg too.”

Enzo looked over to her and nodded, then searched for signs of blood. It was the leg she was laying on. There were two patches of blood on her thigh. That’s why she had gone down on that side. Her leg had given out.

“I-I’m gonna need you to move to your back. I can’t wrap it like this.”

Jirra nodded, and shut her eyes. Once she managed to shift her weight she crashed rather ungracefully onto her back with a hiss. Enzo made a move to slow it but she was already on the ground by the time he actually reacted. So he turned his attention to her leg, and what he didn’t know were bullet wounds.

“Can you lift your leg?”

She nodded again, then actually tried. She made it a few inches, then lost steam. But Enzo saw and helped her get it the rest of the way. She set her foot flat against the ground, giving Enzo enough room to get the bandage around her leg. He showered it in disinfectant first, at which Jirra growled, but not at him. Then he placed a few more gauze squares on them and started to wrap it.

“‘Ake it tight.” She grumbled.

Enzo paused for a second, “huh?”

Jirra said it again as clear as she could, “Wrap it tight.”

He nodded, “Ok.” And braced against her leg as he pulled it about as tight as he dared, he almost let go when the sudden pain caught Jirra off guard. She grumbled and shifted some of the strain into her shoulders.

Enzo stopped, “are you ok?”

“‘Es, wrap it- like that.” her voice strained.

Enzo steeled himself, then continued wrapping. He could see her straining against the pain, he tried to speed up, but it didn’t seem to make much of a difference by the time he was done. He sat back, only noticing now how hard he had been breathing, how long had he been shaking? Jirra looked really still to him all of a sudden.

“Jirra?”

Her eyes opened slowly, as she made a low sound of acknowledgement.

He breathed out, “Ok, good, just checking.” They sat in silence for a few moments until Enzo’s brain reached the inevitable “what’s next?” He looked from Jirra to the bed. Was she going to sleep on the floor? Like this? Half dressed in a pile of blood soaked clothes?

“A-are you going to move to the bed?”

“Can’t.”

“You can’t sleep down here!”

“Can’t g’t up.”

Well he couldn’t do much to move her on his own. A quick glance at the clock and he decided North was probably sleeping, and Enzo wasn’t sure he was up to waking him. So he glanced towards the bed and decided to improvise.

He brought Jirra two of her pillows, warning her well in advance before touching the back of her head. Then he dragged over a blanket. He had deliberated for a while over which one to bring. He knew she was particular about her blankets, she liked to keep her nice ones clean. She wouldn’t want blood on them. So he picked the one he found on the ground near the foot of the bed. He draped it very carefully over her, then headed for the door. He looked back and before he turned the lights off he had another one of those moments where she looked too still to be alive, and his heart dropped into his stomach as he scrambled over to check her breathing. It was shallow, but steady. Still he sat against the wall for a bit, just to make sure. He kept telling himself just another five minutes. But five minutes turned into twenty which turned into falling asleep against the wall.

#whump #whumpee #caretaker #whump drabble #oc #Jirra/Atlas #Enzo #self indulgence time #caretaker turned whumpee #whumpee turned caretaker #tw language #tw lady whump

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wh3nturtlesfly · 2 years ago

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Hello @epiclamer ! I saw you were looking for some hero whumpee and villain caretaker, I hope this could suffice :)

CW/TW: Hypothermia and frostbite, near death experience, whump

The room was immersed in white. Creeping over the metal walls and across the concrete floor. Icicles hung from the ceiling and left the floor slick and shining. The patterns would have been beautiful in any other case, spindling across the room in delicate flakes, but now they left the Hero shivering.

Their thin t-shirt served as almost no defense against the blistering temperatures- their coat had been taken long ago. Now Hero shook, red blotching their exposed forearms and stinging their cheeks.

Hero shifted, trying to touch as little of their bare skin to the concrete as possible. The chill numbed their muscles, though it didn’t take the pain of the bruises away. Supervillain had made sure of that.

Energy seeped out of them too fast to keep up. Too many times they had caught their eyelids threatening to slip shut. Their fingertips had frozen to the point they couldn’t feel them anymore. Hero was helpless, trapped in the pain that couldn’t even be healed by sleep. Their tears crystallized when they couldn’t hold it in anymore.

When the click of the latch sounded, Hero went rigid. Fingers numb, they couldn’t form so much as a fist, much less fight off anything more that came their way. Supervillain knew this as they strode in.

“My, you’re looking a bit blue my dear,” Their lips split in a cruel smile. Supervillain stepped forward and Hero inched back. They couldn’t do it- couldn’t fight-

Hero’s back bumped against the wall and they flinched from the new wave of cold that shot up their spine. Trapped, and Supervillain was well aware.

“Don’t look so afraid now. You know what I want,” They stepped forward before Hero could scramble away- not that they had the strength to- and grabbed a fistful of their hair. It crackled with the frost that had settled in their locks. “You’re only making this harder on yourself, and really, I don’t think you have much left to give.”

Supervillain yanked harshly on Hero’s hair and received a sharp cry in return. Hero fought to pry their fingers away but their own muscles were stiff. It was like moving through molasses, they couldn’t even manage to grasp Supervillain’s hand.

“It's lovely seeing you struggle,” they chuckled, pulling Hero so close that they could feel the breath upon their cheek. Warm. Their hands shifted to either side of Hero’s cheek, and they couldn’t help but lean into the touch, starved of heat for much too long. “Now, give in and we can forget this mess.”

They eyed Hero expectantly, brushing a finger down Hero’s cheek and leaving them chasing the trail of warmth that followed. It was a wicked game to play, though it was working. Hero wished to be free- to have their bones no longer encased in ice. It hurt to think, hurt to breathe. Supervillain’s touch was like fire, beautiful and comforting- and yet-

“I c-can’t.” The words were broken as they fell from Hero’s mouth.

Supervillain’s expression darkened. “You insolent fool,” their grip tightened, fingernails pricking Hero’s skin.

They hurled Hero to the ground and their cheek collided hard with the concrete. Pain shot through the Hero. It was all so cold. Hero groaned as they pushed themself up. Not a moment later and a foot connected with their stomach, sending them into the back wall.

“You just never know when to stop, do you?” Supervillain chuckled, eyes alight. “This time I’ll make sure the message is clear.”

“No- please,” The words were choked as Hero clawed at their ground. Their muscles refused to move, stiff with the chill and reddened with bruises and the smear of blood. Supervillain stalked forward and seized Hero by the throat, pinning them against the wall.

Hero gasped as the air was forced from their lungs. It burned. Squeezing, squeezing, they could feel Supervillain’s hands crushing their windpipe and yet there was nothing they could do to stop it. Pins and needles lingered in their joints. They couldn’t move.

The corners of their vision began to grow dark. Hero’s eyelids were heavy and a new wave of panic shot through Hero. They were falling unconscious. Fingers flexing, reaching for any sort of movement. They couldn’t close their eyes- they wouldn’t wake up again.

“Not so strong now,” Supervillain cackled, squeezing tighter and grinning when a choked cry fell from Hero’s blue lips.

Hero fumbled through pleas but no sound came out. Flakes swirled around Supervillain’s head like a halo, though they were anything but. Their lips were spread wide into the cruelest of smiles, nails pinching into Hero’s skin. They had to stay awake- they had to hold on-

They had to…

Hero went limp and fell into the void of ice and darkness.

***

Words mumbled above their head as if suspended in a fog. Hushed at first, a silent plea. Hero’s head lulled to the side as their eyelids lazily peaked open.

“It’s alright-” Were they being spoken to? Their eyes searched the space, but they couldn’t see anything. “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

Hero was dizzy. Everything felt distant. They couldn’t remember. This voice, it swirled around their form, but it was undeniably kind, comforting even. Supervillain would never-

Supervillain. Panic shot down Hero’s spine. They leapt up from where they had been laid only to discover they were trapped. Eyes darting frantically around, they trashed in the covers that held them down. Get out, they had to get out-

A hand pressed against their chest and Hero fell back onto the covers. Blankets, they must be in a bed. Why would they be in bed?

“You mustn’t move too much, no need to start any new wounds.”

Hero looked up to find the Villain staring at them. Worry shone in the wrinkles by their eyes though they hid it behind a gentle smile. The hand that wasn’t resting on the blankets held a damp rag. Beside the Villain was a bowl of water, steam pooling gently above the surface.

Villain dunked the cloth in the water and wrung it out until droplets of water no longer fell into the bowl. They reached forward and began to peel away the layer of blankets that were wrapped around Hero’s form.

“No! Wait, please!” Hero shouted before they could stop themself. They pulled desperately at the covers, their warmth. They couldn’t feel the scrape of cold air against their skin again. Couldn’t live with another second of clouded breath and silent shivers.

Sorrow crossed Villain’s face and they laid a hand on the Hero’s own, warming it with the touch of their fingers. “I have to treat the damaged skin. I promise I won’t hurt you.” They studied Hero’s expression, waiting until the tension in their shoulders faded before taking Hero’s arms from beneath the covers.

For the first time Hero noted the pinkish-blue tint of their fingertips. They had been too stunned to care before, but now the tingling sensation made sense. Frostbite.

Hero couldn’t help but sigh as the rag was wrapped around their hands. It spread like fire, licking up their insides and settling in a pool of heat. The cuts that covered their skin no longer screamed with pain, and the coloring returned to their complexion.

They stayed like that for minutes, breathing softly under the embrace of heat. Villain then removed the cloth to dip it back in the bowl.

“How did you find me?” Hero asked as Villain tucked them back beneath the blankets.

“It was late, and I still had yet to see you,” Clear droplets fell into the silver bowl as Villain squeezed the rag tighter, “I found your jacket in an alleyway, and Supervillain isn’t so secretive about their ventures.”

Hero tensed at the thought of the Supervillain, but Villain caught their gaze. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them touch you again, ever.” Their expression darkened as they spoke, though was soon replaced by a reassuring smile.

This time they held Hero’s chin gently and brushed the towel across their nose. The stroke of Villain’s thumb across their cheek left searing trails and Hero longed never to lose the feeling of their touch.

Villains retrieved a small device from their pocket, a thermometer, and ran it gently across Hero’s forehead. After a small beep sounded, they observed the reading with a pleased expression.

“Your temperature has gone back up,” they said, “You’ll have some scabs, but they should heal in due time.”

Villain gathered the bowl and rag and set them at Hero’s bedside. The thermometer was tucked into their pocket, but as they moved to stand, Hero stopped them.

“Wait-” Hero grasped their arm, all the numbness had gone from their fingers and they now latched onto Villain like a lifeline. “Stay.”

Arms outstretched, desperate, Hero tightened their grip ever so slightly. They couldn’t be alone again. They wanted Villain’s comfort and the warmth that came with their touch. They wanted Villain at their side.

And the Villain listened. They settled back onto the bed and shifted close. When Hero remained with their arms outstretched, they understood and carefully wrapped their arms around the other. Hero melted into the embrace, burying their face into Villain’s shoulder. They hadn’t even realized they had started to cry…

Villains rubbed soothing circles on their back, carding through their tangled locks even when Hero’s tears soaked their sleeve. They were safe.

Hero hugged Villain tighter, latching onto them as if they were the only one left on earth, and in Hero’s world, they were. “Please don’t let go,” They mumbled into Villain’s sleeve, and ever so softly a hand rose to cup their cheek.

“I won’t Hero, I swear with everything that I never will again.”

#turtlewrites #hero x villain #prompts #writing prompts #story prompt #villain x hero #heroes and villains #whump #whumpee x caretaker

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deckofaces · 2 years ago

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Step Out of Line

Tw: whump, stabbing, blood, near death experience, dagger mention, Supervillain whumper, Hero whumpee, sadistic whumper (guys I swear it sounds bad but there is caretaking at the end)

@epiclamer I saw your plea in the gc for hero whumpee and villain caretaker. So I was inspired and wrote this, pls accept my offering <3

Hero groaned as they crashed hard into the concrete. They practically tasted it with how close their head came to smashing into it. Their open cuts and wounds screamed as they hit the floor. The rough concrete scraped against them, each second laying there felt like daggers poking their skin.

Hero laid there dizzily, coughing for a few seconds. Was that blood that just came out of their mouth? Their vision started blurring together. They slowly looked up, two pairs of feet stood in front of them, who else joined the fight?

They blinked a couple times at the figures, struggling to keep their head up. After another few seconds of this, the two pairs of feet merged into one. No one else joined the fight, it was just their vision lying to them.

Hero shakily started to stand up, despite every part of their body just telling them to give up. They were a hero, they could not lay there in defeat. Supervillain stood in front of them and if they could just get one really good punch in, they might just be able to defeat them-

They felt their legs collapse out from under them, and Hero landed back on their stomach. The cool, rugged pavement greeted them once more. They could hear maniacal laughter echoing off the brick alleyway walls behind them.

Hero breathed heavily, they pushed off the ground, oh they could see the dark red blood now. They slowly turned over to lay on their back so they could actually see. More laughing filled their ears, Supervillain crouched down next to their fallen form.

Out of the corner of their eye, they could see something in the evil doer’s hand. Despite the darkness of the alley, Hero could see the almost blinding flash of metal. A dagger, their vision focused just enough to see the outline of a small blade.

Their heartbeat raced, it must have been out of fear. Was Supervillain going to finish the job right there? They didn’t want to die that way. Dying to the filthy hands of Supervillain like so many others before them. Just add them to the list of fallen heroes. Hero would be just like the others, nothing special.

Supervillain held an evil glint in their eye, grinning as they took pleasure in putting the blade directly in their face so Hero could see. “Given up yet Hero? It does not matter, you do not have a choice anyways. You will be dead in a minute.”

“N-no-“ Hero whimpered, oh so desperately trying to back away in their weakened state.

Supervillain only cackled more, grabbing their feet and dragging them back over, which only made Hero cry out in pain.

Without warning, they elicited a scream as Supervillain took their blade and stabbed Hero.

They couldn’t tell where, but the pain felt absolutely horrible. Another thing they knew is that they passed out soon after.

. . .

Hero stirred on something.. soft? Were they hallucinating the comfortable surface to escape the feeling of the wretched concrete?

They opened their eyes but they were impaled by light, which confused them, wasn’t it still night time?

Hero took a minute to adjust to the light, blinking rapidly until it felt like the light no longer hurt them. They looked around the room, this clearly was not the alley, their mind had not been playing tricks on them either.

They were laying on a worn in couch, a soft blanket had been pulled all the way up to their chin. They looked under the blanket and saw bandages wrapped around their stomach, arms, and a cast on their leg. They also noticed bandages around their hands too when lifting the blanket. None of them felt too tight either, whoever did it must have taken great care.

The living room the couch sat in appeared to be small, but it was neat and tidy. They wonder what civilian rescued them, at least they hoped a civilian saved them and they were not with Supervillain. That would be so very cruel, they would rather have died on the pavement than see their face after they had given Hero a false sense of safety.

While scanning their surroundings, their eyes drifted over to the doorway that led to the kitchen. Their eyes widened in shock. Standing there staring at them was not a civilian at all or Supervillain, it was Villain. And they were holding a bowl of chicken noodle soup?

Villain must of been bad news, they started to sit up and pull the blanket off them, but they stopped halfway through, hissing in pain.

Villain rushed over and set the soup on the coffee table in front of the couch. They immediately pushed Hero to lay back down on the couch. “What are you thinking?? If you opened any of your wounds because of this- I swear to gods-“ They groaned thinking about it, shaking their head.

Hero hesitated, they did not move or say anything. That only caused Villain to sigh as they gently helped them into sitting position. They grabbed the bowl of soup directly after, pulling a chair up to sit next to the couch Hero sat on.

Hero looked at the soup with unease. They could not deny that it smelled absolutely delicious and their stomach had definitely been growling, but what if Villain put something in it? “Is that poisoned?”

“What kind of question is that? Of course not,” Villain scoffed. “You are in my home, I plan on taking care of you.”

Hero still looked at the bowl in their nemesis’s hands, unsure. Which in turn only drew out a long sigh from the villain.

“Why would I poison you after taking the time to bandage you up, if you haven’t noticed them already. Let me tell you that it took forever.” Villain gestured to Hero’s hand for reference. “I’m a villain, but if you think I’m cruel enough to bandage you all up just to kill you- I’m offended,” they rolled their eyes dramatically.

“Now watch, Hero.” They took a spoonful of the soup that they made and ate it. They swallowed and gave them an “I told you so” sort of expression. Hero looked sheepish after, letting out a small “oh.”

Villain hummed and held up another spoonful of the chicken noodle soup. “Open your mouth.”

Hero gave them a confused look again, “Are you going to try to feed me?”

Villain still held the utensil in front of the crime-stopper. “Yes,” they said simply.

“But that is embarrassing-! Please just let me feed myself,” Hero complained. They weren’t injured so much so that they could not eat the soup themself.

“Not as embarrassing as trying to challenge someone as powerful as Supervillain. I found you left for dead in that alleyway, and goodness knows you could have died if I didn’t save you. Now open up.” This time Villain did not sound like they were joking. They were stern, but they also held a touch of worry in their voice.

Hero lowered their gaze to the blanket on their lap out of shame and embarrassment. Villain had immediately shut down their complaints just with that explanation alone.

“Why did you help me?” Hero asked quietly. “I’m a hero, I try to arrest you. This goes against what villains sort of well.. do.”

Villain let the spoon fall back into the bowl. They shook their head at Hero. “No, villains break rules and accepted norms dearest Hero, and saving you did just that. I did not step out of line if I was not following a line to begin with.”

Hero only stared at Villain. When they held the spoon up to them once again, this time they reluctantly opened their mouth and accepted the food. And consequently, Villain’s help.

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 2 years ago

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Midnight

Notes: Sorry for the lack of updates. High school, my beloathed. Anyway, this is from my phone's notes, some of y'all alr read it from the gc, but here it is for those who haven't!

TW: Non-con drugging, blood mention, yandere whumper, implied touch-starvation

Everything. They could hear everything, from the careful, light patter of their bare feet on the cold ceramic, the air flowing in from the little crack in the wall, and their own erratic breathing.

They can barely see, but they've been in this damned mansion long enough to know every seemingly inconsequential detail of it by heart. They make their way almost mechanically around the place, but in a speed that would normally frustrate them, a necessary precaution.

They can't help but take one too many fleeting glances behind them, flinching at any little noise or movement of the shadows. Their heart felt like it was in their knees, beating at a speed they never knew it was capable of.

Their grip tightens on the pair of sneakers clutched in their left hand, never mind that it was 'a gift' from Whumper. Survival outweighed pride here. They have to do this, it's their only chance. The sweet, seemingly treacherous promise of freedom is the only thing that helps calm their nerves, stops them from falling in an unconscious heap on the floor after being paralysed with fear.

They finally make it to the door, feeling the rush of adrenaline course through their veins as they unlock it, the sweet taste of the midnight air on their tongue, its coolness feeling great on their burning face, the all-encompassing euphoria of freedom pulsing through them like a chemical injected swiftly into their veins. . .

Oh so beautiful, oh so short-lived. They feel a steady grip around their form, neither harsh nor painful, but firm and impossible to break out of.

Whumper lets out an amused chuckle which sends shivers down Whumpee's spine. They feel the heat radiating of their captor's sleep-warm form, not that it brings them any comfort.

"Tsk tsk, is this what we agreed upon, Whumpee? I thought you knew better than to make such a mistake. And after all I've done for you," they breathe out, mock-wistfulness lining their tone.

Whumpee's heart rate accelerates, and their whole body stiffens up in mere moments. "Oh, relax, will you?" Whumper kneads out the tension in their muscles with one hand, the other still keeping its death grip on them. They despise how their shoulders sag, how soothing the touch feels, how their body betrays them.

"Y-you h-hurt me," they stammer, furiously blinking away the tears forming on the tips of their lashes.

"I only do that when you misbehave, Whumpee," they half-growl through gritted teeth, now digging their nails into the skin, drawing blood, and it was their luck that Whumper liked to keep theirs long, and they let out a wince. At that, Whumper smirks, resuming the careful rubbing of Whumpee's back again. "How else will you learn? Rules don't stick without consequences."

Whumpee let out a strangled cry they fail to completely muffle. "Shhhh," Whumper soothes.

They produce a syringe from their pocket, filled with a strange, blue liquid. Whumpee's emerald eyes widen like saucers, and they feel their breathing hitch, and a soft whine escapes their lips.

Whumper only lets out a soft laugh, shaking their head. They inject the azure contents of the syringe straight into the now-sobbing Whumpee's bloodstream. The needle hurts like hell, and they're engulfed by a consuming dizziness as the world around them dissolved into pitch black darkness.

They wake up in their room to a hand running through their hair and a warm smile. "Care-Caretaker?" they half-yawn, voice still hoarse from sleep.

The shrill cackle, the ever-so-subtle tightening of the grip on their hair and the "No, sweetheart," provide more than enough in terms of an answer to their question."

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-whump @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @dodo-docs @vernilliom @sirrsnakesssss @starssabove

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

#whump #a little gremlin's writing #yandere whumper #somewhat defiant whumpee #failed escape #tw non-con drugging #whumpee x whumper #female writers #writers on tumblr #prompt

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