#Breathing through the pain

[insertsomthinawesome]

WHUMPTOBER 2022 - DAY 15 - Breathing Through the Pain

Finally Drew the red dead outfit for this SDLFIHGLIHFGD The question of “What are you wearing?!” will have to wait until he’s doing better :’D

-NO ROMANCE INCLUDED-

[whumpneto]

Whumptober 2022 - No. 15 EMOTIONAL DAMAGE

Lies | New Scars | Breathing through the Pain

Milo Ventimiglia as Jake Eckehart in Armored (2009)

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 15 (Aaron Hotchner & Y/N Hotchner) - Mr Scratch Part 2

(There's not currently a Mr Scratch Part 1 aha, had this idea and then wrote it for Whumptober)

No. 15 EMOTIONAL DAMAGE

Lies | New Scars | Breathing through the Pain

Warnings: toxic masculinity, child abuse, blashbacks, beaten, concussion, kicking punching, guns, bullet wound (fake), blood, hallucinations, noncon drugging, drugging, insecurities, strangulation.

Word count: 3216

Aaron watches in horror as Lewis aims the gun at you, he yells out but you can't hear him. Lewis pulls the trigger and you stagger forward before falling to the floor, just in front of him. "(Y/N), (Y/N), no, no, no," He looks up, tears already streaming, "What have you done?!" His voice is sharp. 

Lewis smirks, "I killed him." 

Hotch watches in horror as Lewis fades into thin air.

"Watch out, I'm coming through that door," Lewis whispers, “Kill me.”

Your heart’s in your throat when you get there. David and Spencer go round the front, Derek and JJ taking the back. You go through the side. Turns out, it takes you straight to Aaron. Lewis is nowhere in sight. Aaron’s got his back to you. “Aaron?” You call softly. He turns to you - you see a hard look in his eyes. You don’t see any weapons, nor does it look like he’s going to attack. Okay, so far so good. 

"Aaron?" You ask, cautiously approaching him. You didn't know what Scratch had told him to believe. 

"You killed him," Was Aaron's response. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, before you could reply, he charged at you, knocking you to the floor. 

Derek's eyebrows furrowed as he heard a loud thud. With the grip on his gun tightening, he slowly began to make his way towards the sound, unsure of it’s origin. 

Aaron aimed a surprisingly well-aimed punch to your ribs, causing you to give a loud grunt. "Aaron, it's me," You insisted. Aaron ignored you, aiming his next punch at your face. 

Not knowing what else to do, you bucked him off you as you scrambled up, trying to get some distance between the two of you. "Aaron, you need to calm down, it's me, it's (Y/N),"

“You don’t get to say his name,” Aaron growled, he made the first move again, aiming for a punch. You block on instinct, landing a jab to his side - guilt gnaws at your stomach. Aaron responds by taking a large chunk of your hair in his hands and slamming your head into the counter. You stumble back, everything spinning.

“A-aron, it’s me,” Ignoring you, Aaron swept your legs from under you. You gave a moan when your head hit the floor. Dazed, you blinked up, staring at your brother in confusion, vision blurring for a moment. 

"You killed him," Was all Aaron responded, sending a hard kick to your ribs that winded you. 

"Aaron? It's me!" You exclaimed, curling in on yourself to try to reduce the pain. You shut your eyes tightly, trying to block it all out. Scrunching your eyes closed tighter you try to breathe through the pain as the strikes continue. You felt like a kid again, alone; Aaron and Sean had left and you were all alone - all you wanted was your brothers. Except it was your brother this time. Aaron couldn’t save you, not when he was the one hurting you. 

The next thing you know, Aaron is straddling you, hands wrapped tightly around your throat. Your hands immediately fly to your throat, trying to pry his hands off. Trying to gasp for breath, you look into his eyes, hoping to see recognition, but there's nothing there. His gaze is the hardened look he sends to unsubs.

"A-Aaron, its me, I swear-" You choked out, hands desperately clawing at your brother's hands. "A-" 

As your vision begins to blur, you can't help but think how similar Aaron and your father look. 

Derek's eyes widened at the scene, he strode forwards before pulling your brother off of you, holding him back. "I need some help in here!" Derek yells, and everyone immediately rushed in. Rossi and Reid stay whilst JJ and Kate go after Lewis. He wanted nothing more than to go over to you, to comfort you - but he knew the second he let go of your brother and stopped holding him back, he’d go right back to beating the shit out of you. Derek made a mental note to hit Peter Lewis when they found him. 

You cough loudly when Aaron’s hands are ripped from your neck, wincing at the pressure on your ribs and throat it causes. You spit the blood in your mouth onto the floor, ignoring it as it continues to drip, you could deal with that later. You doubt anyone would mind. You give a small groan, moving your right arm to cradle your ribs as you start to force yourself to sit up. Pushing past the pain, nausea, and stinging, and force yourself up.

Spencer rushes to your side. "(Y/N)?"

You scramble back until you feel a wall press against your back. You know it’s irrational, that’s it’s Spencer. But you needed security. And breath. You couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t you breathe? You could see your chest rising but there was no air. Where did the air go? Oh god, you try to take a large breath, only for none to reach your lungs yet again. Not now, not now. Now really wasn’t the time… 

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump. You flinch away. When a strike doesn’t come, you look up, head spinning. Your vision’s blurry, but enough you can make out who it is. Spencer. Embarrassed, you curl into yourself and bury your head into your elbow, willing this to be a dream so you don’t have to deal with the humiliation. You’re breathing’s still shallow, but it’s better. You feel sick.

“(Y/N)?”

"I'm fine," You croak, wincing again both at the sound of your voice and the pain speaking caused - in your throat and the pounding of your head. "Is Aaron okay?" 

"Get off me!" Aaron mumbled angrily, "He killed him-"

"Hotch, everyone's fine," Rossi said softly. 

"Rossi? You need to get Scratch he killed-"

"Aaron, everyone is okay,"

"(Y/N)?"

"(Y/N)'s okay too," Rossi answered. You forced yourself up, wiping the blood from under your nose with your sleeve. 

"I'm right here, see," You held out your hands, motioning to yourself with a pained smile, trying your best to blink the tears from your eyes.

"What happened?" Aaron asked, motioning to your bleeding nose, cut lip, the large cut and bruise beginning to form on your forehead (as well as the blood that began to trickle down from the wound), and the hand marks that were slowly starting to bruise on your neck. Aaron's eyes widened, "Did I do that?"

Derek opens his mouth to answer, but you beat him to it, "No." You lie with a sniff, "Scratch did, you found him, tore him off me. You wouldn't get off of Scratch so Morgan had to restrain you," The lie comes easily off your tongue and it makes you feel sick. But it was either this or tell your brother he almost killed you. Everyone's glaring at you for lying to him. It's clear even Aaron doesn't believe you. 

"(Y/N), don't lie to me," Aaron said. 

You swallow, "I'm not." You feel like you're going to throw up.

Rossi says nothing and simply tells the others to wait outside and take the elder Hotch to the medics. He turns back to you when they’re gone, saying, "You can't lie to him." He states. 

"But he'd feel guilty knowing," You respond with a one-armed shrug. 

"So what, you're going to lie in the paperwork? Expect everyone else to lie there too?" Rossi asked. You sighed.

"He doesn't need to feel guilty for something he didn't mean to do. It's Aaron, he's going to feel guilty no matter how many times I tell him it's okay," 

“He has a right to know,”

“No.” You said, shaking your head, wincing at the pain exploding through your skull as you did so. “No, because then it’ll just be another thing that Aaron Hotchner Hates About Himself. And I’m not putting that on him. If you guys want to tell him, fine, I don’t give a shit if I get into trouble or suspended or fired or whatever, I’m not having my brother hate himself about something he couldn’t control,”

Rossi shut his eyes, “(Y/N)-”

“No, Rossi,” You cut him off, “You don’t see him on his bad days- on his really bad days. I’m not doing that to him.”

You stumbled towards the door, too stubborn to ask to lean against Rossi. Morgan’s immediately by the door when you get there, taking the majority of your weight as you walk the rest of the way to the ambulance, snaking his arm around your waist and pulling you close.

“What was the panic attack about?” He asks quietly, deciding to be blunt.

“I’m no expert, but probably the panic,”

Derek gives a small chuckle, “Hilarious,” He replied. “But seriously,”

“Bad memories,” You answered vaguely. Derek nodded, you had confided in your childhood after a particularly bad nightmare. He knew that you would confide in him when you wanted or needed to, he didn’t want to push you. Instead, he decided to change the subject. Seemingly knowing what he was thinking, you added, “I’ll tell you about it later,”

“How are you feeling?”

“Nauseous,” Derek’s thumb rubbed a gentle circle along your side.

“I’m sorry I didn’t get there sooner,”

“Please don’t feel guilty,” You said, shaking your head, “You got there as soon as you could,”

When you reach the ambulance, the paramedic’s eyes go wide. And before you know it they usher you to the bed to sit on whilst they check you over, Aaron now cleared - with strict instructions to take it easy and stay the night with a friend - sat next to you.

 “I know I did this to you,” 

“No, you don’t, because no you didn’t,” You hate lying to him. But it was for the best.

“I’m not stupid, (Y/N),”

“Never said you were,”

“Then stop treating me like it,”

You sighed, turning to him, “That’s not why I lied,”

“Then why?”

“Because it’ll go on your list of things you hate about yourself and I don’t like that you hate yourself for one, but for two I definitely hate that I am the cause of some of those things,”

“I don’t hate myself-”

“Loathe, then,” You said, “Look, is lying wrong? Probably. But when it’s my brother I’m trying to protect from his own over-analysing brain? I don’t think so,”

“I have a right to know what actually happened, what I did,”

“Why? So you can beat yourself up about it?” Aaron glared.

“(Y/N),” Aaron said sternly. Unsure of what else to do, he decided to pull the Boss (TM) card, “As your superior, I’m ordering you to tell me what happened,”

“Fine, you wanna know what happened?” You asked, pushing the paramedic’s hands away from your forehead. “You slammed my head into a counter, kicked the shit out of me, and then tried to strangle me. Happy?” You see the look on Aaron’s face, it had dropped, eyes filled with guilt - despite him trying to mask it. You shut your eyes with a sigh, “That’s what I wanted to avoid,”

“You shouldn’t have to not tell me things because you’re worried about my reactions,”

“You’re my brother. And you internalise things. Of course, I’m going to worry,” You said with a shrug, “Besides, as far as I’m concerned, Scratch did this,”

“But I’m the one-”

“Look, as far as I’m concerned, this was Scratch,” You said sharply, leaving no room for argument. “I am not having you mope about for days because of this, so get it out of your head that you did this, okay? Because I only have so much willpower not to smack you round the back of the head for being this self-deprecating, alright?”

You knew what you were saying was probably falling on deaf ears, but at least you had said them. When you were done, you turned back to the paramedic and gave a small nod. 

A concussion, bruised ribs, and a broken nose. 'Nothing major' you thought to yourself with a nod. You were told to rest up, visit the doctors if anything got any worse, and to stay out of the field until you were fully healed.

When the paramedics are gone, you turn to the team, "Alright, I'm off, I'll see you bright and breezy tomorrow,"

"No, take the day off," Rossi said, you shook your head. 

"Nah, I'm fine, honestly," You argued.

"Babe, take the day off," Morgan pressed, you shook your head again.

"I'm fine,"

Aaron sighed, nodding, he knew there was no point in arguing with you. You would come in either way. The team disbanded, making their way through the crime scene. The sooner they got this done, the sooner they could all go home. 

"Hey, Hotch?" Morgan asked, walking up to Hotch, away from you. "Can I drive (Y/N) home? I just want to keep an eye on him," 

Ignoring the pang of guilt, Aaron nodded, "That's probably a good idea. Let me know when you're both home safe," Morgan nodded. 

You look up, hearing footsteps. Morgan, you give him a small smile, "Alright, I've got permission to drive you home," Morgan said, "I'm also making it known now that I staying round," You cocked an eyebrow and managed to smirk, "Not like that," He sighed and you gave a small snicker. 

Derek drives you back to yours, the drive silent but not uncomfortable, the radio gently playing in the background. 

It took you a while to get to sleep, Derek next to you, you closely wrapped into his side. “Hey,” Derek whispered, “Level with me, where’s your head at?”

You shrug, “I’m fine,”

“Baby you keep saying that,”

“Maybe because it’s true.”

“I’m here when you want to talk about it,” Derek mumbled, placing a soft kiss to your head. 

“I know,” You shut your eyes, allowing sleep in. 

You woke up a variety of times during the night, not moving when you did - Derek’s arms wrapped tightly around you. Eventually, morning rolled around. 

You came into work the next day, despite everyone trying to convince you otherwise, everything patched up and semi-okay. Everyone was on edge and it was driving you crazy. You weren't going to break down in a puddle of tears over a few punches. You were fine.

Aaron was cautious around you, moving slow, keeping his voice levelled, not wanting to do anything you may perceive as threatening. And you did you best to act as though nothing had happened, like it didn’t hurt to breathe, to talk, to move. You knew if you did, it would just be added to Aaron Hotcher’s List of Self-Loathing. 

You knew you said it was fine. And it was, you were acting normally with him and you had forgiven him - actually, you felt there was nothing to forgive him for. But your body didn't exactly register that. You know you had no reason to be so cautious of Aaron. That he would never intentionally hurt you. He was your brother. And yet, you had to stop yourself from flinching, had to push the panic aside when he spoke to you. 

You were in the break room, making a coffee, you turned around to face Aaron as he walked in, "Hey, I'm making a coffee, you want one?"

He nodded, he really needed the caffeine. Aaron wondered if this was what Spencer felt like if he didn't get his caffeine fix. It had been a day since the incident and you still seemed okay with him, so he assumed that everything was fine. Although, this didn't stop him from proceeding with caution around you. The cuts on your forehead were scabbed over, as was the small cut on your lips. Your nose was a dark, angry red, as were the corners of your eyes. And the bruises on your throat were slowly turning purple. Guilt gnawed at his stomach before he did his best to push it aside.

"I'll grab the sugar," He smirks, knowing you were going to add a massive amount to your coffee (despite his repeated warning that it wasn't good for your teeth). And so, Aaron reached past you, freezing when you flinched away.

"I'm sorry!" You apologise, eyes wide, realising what you had done and the hurt on Aaron's face. "I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine,"

“Aaron, I didn’t mean-”

“(Y/N), it’s okay,” You looked at your brother, despite his trying to hide it, you could see the clear guilt in his eyes.

“I- I need to go to the bathroom,” You rushed out of the room before Aaron could tell you to wait. 

You brush past Morgan and Reid, ignore JJ and Kate calling your name, you just keep walking. When you reach the doors, you check that the room is completely empty before locking the main door. You let yourself sink to the floor, pulling your knees to your chest in a weak attempt to comfort yourself.

You curled into yourself, biting your lip to hold back your cries. It wouldn’t do any good, in fact, probably the complete opposite. Aaron was still at school, taking part in a play and Sean was out with friends, leaving you home alone with your father. “You gonna follow the rules now, boy?” He growled, and you nodded, a whimper falling past your lips. “Do not cry, boy, what kind of man cries?” There was a small pause when you failed to answer, he decided to answer for you, “The answer is weak men, boy. Men do not cry, boy,”

You shoved the heel of your palms into your eyes, trying to stem the tears. “Men don’t cry," You muttered bitterly to yourself, digging your hands deeper when the tears continued. “Men don’t cry,” You repeated, hoping that if you kept repeating the phrase maybe it would stop you from crying. “Get it together, (Y/N),” You paused, removing your hands from your eyes, blinking.

It wasn’t often you’d deal with negative emotions on your own. More often than not, your brother was there to help. Although, that wasn’t exactly a possibility in this situation. Fresh tears pricked the corners of your eyes at this realisation. You sniff. “Nope, no, not happening,” You mutter before letting out a small groan. You sniff once more, blinking repeatedly in a feeble attempt to make the tears go away. 

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door, “(Y/N)? It’s me,” Derek. “Can you unlock the door?” You sniff, contemplating it before reaching up and unlocking the door. “Hey,” He greets as he sits down on the floor next to you. 

Neither of you speak. 

“I just kept thinking he looked like our dad,” You mumbled, voice wavering with emotion. You gave a sob as Derek pulled you close to him, “And I feel so guilty, he’s hurting and beating himself up because of me.”

“(Y/N)-”

“I need to talk to him,”

“Maybe that’s not a good idea right now-”

“Why not?!” You snap.

“I just mean you need to calm down first,” He answers, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. 

“I’m sorry,” You sigh, “I love you,”

“I love you too,”

[limeskye]

Whumptober 2022

No.15

Breathing through the Pain

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Didn’t Make It

CW: Beating, failed escape, dehumanization, pet whump

Death Valley | Lüge | Welcome Home | 

For @whumptober 2022, Day 14 15, and 16 - Failed escape and Breathing through the pain, plus “No one’s coming”

-

Ranchers Rest, California, 2003

Finn made it to the door.

He had one hand out on the front step, feeling the warmth of the sun on the concrete, before his head exploded in pain and he slumped to the ground. 

"I'm very disappointed in you, Mouse," Robert said, his voice a growl against Finn's back. 

"Nein," Finn groaned, struggling to push himself back up, digging his fingernails into the bottom of the doorframe, the strip of metal all that separated him from the outdoors, from freedom, maybe from rescue. 

Vision blurry, he didn't understand at first why there was red splattered over the doormat now, not until something ran into his eye and stung. Only then did he understand that it was blood. 

A clatter of something falling with a thump as Robert dropped it was following by Robert's fingers twisting into Finn's hair, yanking backwards so his chin was pulled harshly up.

 Finn frantically shook his head, trying to dislodge the grip. His broken leg throbbed from being dragged behind him, the homemade splint of cheap plywood and gauze and rope scratching against exposed skin. "Nein, nicht! Lass mich gehen!" 

Wide-eyed, he stared out at the perfect normal sidewalk leading to the street on a perfectly normal afternoon. He could see a house across the street, a car in the driveway. 

He screamed. His voice cracked, desperate, as his heart pounded against the ground. 

"Hilf mir!"

"Shut the fuck up!" Robert's hand clapped over Finn's mouth as he hissed into his ear. 

His fingers smelled like motor oil and diesel gasoline, pushing Finn's lips painfully into his teeth. Finn's stomach turned and he coughed, fighting the bile trying to rise in his throat, reaching up with one hand to grab and pull, trying to free himself, screaming still. 

It was all muffled nonsense, and Robert used the grip on his hair and mouth to pull him roughly backwards, kicking the door shut as he fell backwards, Finn a thrashing blur in his arms. 

The door slammed with a thunk that was the only thing louder than Finn's heartbeat. 

The bright afternoon daylight dropped instantly back into the musty dim yellow that came through Robert's ancient curtains. 

Tears burned in Finn's eyes, he kept clawing uselessly at the hand over his mouth, kicking out with his good leg. He got a good hit against Robert's ankle, the man letting out a howl of pain as his hands instinctively jerked back. 

Finn threw himself forward, towards the door, but Robert landed on his back a half-second later.

His chin bounced off the ground, teeth clicking together and pain ricocheting like a bullet through his skin. 

 The carpet was cool and sticky-rough on his stomach and hips. Too familiar a feeling by now.

Robert leaned over, Finn groaning at the weight, struggling to take a deep breath against the pressure. 

Robert's breath smelled like barbecue, whatever he'd eaten for lunch. "What the fuck was that, little Mouse? That isn't our routine." 

The coarse fabric of his mechanic's coveralls rubbed agonizingly into raw welts layered over the younger man's back and thighs, stinging pain like his body was on fire. 

Finn sobbed, letting his aching head drop so his forehead pressed into the carpet. "Let me go," He pleaded, voice cracking, barely audible. "Bitte, bitte, nicht…"

"You're damn lucky that Mrs. Meyer across the road has to see her cardiologist today," Robert said, nuzzling against Finn's ear, listening to him cry. "Otherwise she’d have been home... and you'd be dead already. Plus, I’d have to kill her and make it look accidental. Aren’t you tired of getting people killed, little Mouse?”

Finn thought  - he had endless nightmares about - the look on the face of the hotel manager before Robert had shot him, and he went limp once again. 

Robert pushed himself up, stepping on Finn's splinted leg with a heavy work boot until the man let out a wail at the pain and pressure pushing into the fractured bone. 

He waited until Finn's cries softened, listening to him breathing in carefully slow inhales and exhales, forcing himself to keep breathing through overwhelming throbbing agony. Finn fought his stomach, twisting around nothing, forced himself not to vomit on the carpet, knowing he'd be the one who had to clean it. 

Then, once he knew Finn could hear, Robert did up the locks, one by one. 

"I know it's hard," Robert said, in a tone of rational, reasonable understanding. "This isn't your country. These aren't your people. And nobody's coming for you, because no one knows where you are. I get that. But if I see you within six feet of that door again, I'll cut your feet and hands off."

Finn slowly looked up at him, his face smeared with drying tear tracks and blood. Red still clumped his hair together where Robert had hit him with the tire iron lying on the floor nearby. "My… hands-"

"You don't need hands to crawl like a good dog," Robert said. "Or feet either. Keep that in mind. Not that you're a dog, but… well. How many feet do mice need, you think?"

Finn slumped, all the fight gone out of him at once. The sticky carpet rubbed across his forehead, the smell of carpet shampoo never quite washed out only barely covering the sickly scent of the dead from the basement below.

Robert grinned and had a beer on the couch. He sat with his boots digging into Finn’s back.

When Finn started to cry, Robert sighed and turned the volume up on the TV.

-

For whumptober: @whumpworld 

Finn tag list:  @astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whumperfully @pigeonwhumps  @squishablesunbeam  @darkthingshappen @whumper-soot  @pumpkin-spice-whump @pardonmekreature  ask if you want to be added to the taglist

[ccristata]

Breathing Through the Pain

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Narrator

This story probably needs more context but I don't have the brain to give it right now. So, the set up is narrator has had an episode and was complaining about it and Jake starts trying to problem solve. Narrator has an unspecified chronic illness but this is 100% self-serving and I have chronic asthma and migraines. Enjoy!

“Jake,” I sighed. “Jake.” My firmer tone cut him off in the middle of his monologue about specialists and habits and medications and solutions.

“It’s not that simple.” 

“I never said simple, but you can’t-“

“It doesn’t work that way.” I dropped my voice to just barely audible and I hate the way it shakes but I think it was what got through to the stubborn man across from me.

Jake sunk into himself a little, reigning the fight in himself back but it still shone in his eyes. I smiled softly and sadly.

“I know you’re used to being the top one percent of the top one percent of the top,” I waved as I let my list trail off. “But it doesn’t- this- *I* don’t work that way.” The grumpy pout on his face almost made me smile again.

“I know you’re used to pushing through… challenges, records, pain, limits, even what people think is possible!” I could feel my face twisting with astonishment and hope at his accomplishments and drive until it fell away at the comparison of mine. “But I can’t do that.” I watched him cross his arms and lean against their counter as I paused to choose my next words carefully.

“When you have a problem or… a limit… something you need to get through. You practice, train… try it and fail and see what you can learn from your failures. You analyze and study and practice a hell of a lot more. I know you work hard. But end of the day? You push through. Take the extra g-force, breathe through the tunnel vision, grit your teeth, pull up your bootstraps, and push through.” I tried for levity but the blank look on his face told me I failed. “But I can’t do that. There are things I can do, ways to gently increase my limits, and I’m sure I’d benefit from a little more exercise but if I push myself too far, I don’t break records, I break myself.” I was trying so hard to maintain my calm exterior but I could feel the frustration and sorrow of a lifetime of this BS weighing against me, fighting to spring through.

“I can’t fight for everything, I can’t keep pushing to be the best all the time, I can’t keep up with your standards because if I tried, I’d put myself in the hospital!” Case in point, I was losing hold of my emotions and my breaths were now distinctly shaky. Jake started to move across the room towards me. I pursed my lips to try and keep the tears at bay but I instinctively reached out for him. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and tucked my head into his chest when he got close enough. I felt myself start to soften in his embrace and the guilt crept in that I was throwing this negativity at him for wishing I could be cured. I wasn’t trying to make him the bad guy for working hard and being successful. I was hurting but that’s no excuse for making it sound like the world is constantly plotting against me.

I sniffled a little as I pulled my head up to look him in the eyes. “A hundred years ago, I couldn’t have dreamed of the things I can do because of modern medicine.” I shrugged and looked away from the intensity of his gaze. “And I have meds that do work most of the time, and I can afford them. In reality, I am in the top -whatever- percent of efficacy. My scale is just different from yours.” I started frowning again as I forced myself to meet his eyes. “It always will be.” 

Our eyes stayed locked and I could feel the tears welling up in mine.

“Hey,” His voice was softer than it had been earlier and he moved a hand from my waist up to cradle my cheek. “Shh, shh. It’s ok. Take a breath.” I let out a soft sob at his gentleness and melted into his embrace.

“Come ‘ere.” He gently braced both hands on my waist and lifted me to sit on the counter. We rested against one another for a handful of breaths.

“Hey,” he broke the easy silence with a gentle tone. He waited until I met his eyes and kept my gaze with a serious look. “Ok.” I could have started crying again. He was telling me that he had listened, that he was dropping the argument, the fight that he always pushed to win, he heard me and we were going to have this conversation on my terms.

[myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19]

Role Reversal

@smellofsnoww for you, ma'am

@irathgo

This was inspired by another post, which I'll tag after I find it.

****

Keir was shaken awake by the loud banging at his door. He had fallen asleep on the couch again. Evie meowed at him, taking a scared stance behind his table.

"It's ok girl, I'll see who it is." He said, trying to reassure her as he looked for his keys.

He caught a glimpse of his clock, it was 02am.

Keir shook his head, he found the keys already at the door, he unlocked it.

Theo stood at the door, well barely. He breathed heavily, hand to his rib, mostly beaten and chewed up.

He was obviously bleeding underneath his dark heavy coat.

"....can…I st…stay…th…the night…?" He asked, barely able to even talk.

Keir just moved to the side and Theo staggered inside. Keir quickly closed the door behind him.

He quickly rushed over to help Theo stay standing as he was looking close to keeling over.

Theo hissed, when he held his arm to keep him up, agitating the knife that might have punctured his lung.

Keir helped put the doctor on the couch.

Theo was holding back screams as every movement sent waves of pain around him. He tried to even his breathing so he wouldn't worsen the damage done by the knife.

Keir didn't say anything else, only rushing to get his first aid kit.

"What happened?" Keir finally spoke, while taking out the contents of the first aid box.

Theo shook his head, "first…" he motioned for the small knife.

"Be…rea…ready…pu…pull…it out." He huffed.

Keir nodded.

"Hands….wash…now…" Theo ordered, even though his voice was weaker it still had some strength to it.

Keir tsked but we to wash his hands as quickly as he could. He came back to Theo.

The young doctor was staying awake through sheer will but looked ready to pass out.

Theo nodded in approval. "... gloves…" he said again.

"I don't know if we have enough time for all this." Keir expressed, his monotone voice present even now. He still wore the gloves though. "You're bleeding on my couch."

"....go…od.." Theo continued, "now…clothes…"

Keir sighed shaking his head and moving over to slowly help Theo with his clothes.

First it was the large coat, it was supposed to be a lit brown but now was mixed with blood and mud.

Theo bit his lip, his body trembling from the pain.

"You know you're going to have to tell me who did this to you." Keir said, as he finished with the coat and put it to the side.

"....later…" Theo told him, he breathed a little heavy after that, but had to calm it when the pain spiked.

Keir shook his head, then helped Theo with his other layer. A simple dress shirt, that was now stained red from the blood, he carefully unbuttoned it and helped take it off him.

Keir could now see the obvious marks that showed what might have happened.

"ambush" Keir said,

"...focus…" Theo said, barely holding back his pain.

Keir listened, "what next?" He asked him.

"Painkillers?" Theo asked.

"I'd need to go find them," he looked outside.

Theo shook his head, "I'll…. have… to manage." He said.

Keir was unsure but didn't say anything, Theo knew better.

"Knife.." Theo said, "pull it out…. and stop any bleeding." His breaths were shallow.

Keir nodded, turning around to get a towel he had in the box.

Without hesitation Keir put his hand on the knife.

"Get ready." He warned Theo.

Theo gave a shaky thumbs up and readied himself.

Slowly Keir began to pull the knife out and Theo obviously wasn't enjoying it.

Theo wanted to get away from the pain that exploded but tried to keep himself still, K also held him back.

The young doctor held back screams, his mind getting muffled with nothing but pain. It felt like eternity as he pulled it out.

K kept a straight face though, when it was finally out Theo was thankful.

Keir placed the knife down then turned to Theo, he immediately dabbed some of the blood away.

Now came the hard part of stitches, Theo had a towel in his mouth, biting down as Keir stitched the wound closed.

In the end, Theo was still finding it hard to breathe, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Needle," he said, not very aware at the moment, looking just ready to pass out.

Keir looked at him, a worried expression on his usually blank face. But now he was also confused.

Theo tapped a part of his chest, "air." He said, finding it hard to breathe.

Keir understood, he got an empty syringe and placed it on the spot, Theo tapped.

He was careful as he put it in, just as careful when he pulled the excess air out of Theo's lung.

Theo gasped, his eyes going wide. He involuntarily took in a deep breath but it was alright cause he could breathe again.

It still hurts but it was better.

He gave K a slight nod of thanks, before finally giving in and letting his eyes close.

Keir brushed the sweat from his face and pulled back the hair that got stuck. Theo was looking pale and tired. Well it's what you'd expect.

He was definitely in a fight, Keir noted. He took Theo's bruised knuckles and began to clean them. Bandaging them up, he applied ointment to the places he got hit that were obviously discolored.

This wasn't a fair fight, Theo isn't the most skilled but it's obvious he was targeted. Not for money or belongings, that's for sure, if that was the case he wouldn't be here.

Keir continued with the wound care until everything was treated. He wanted to put him in bed but wasn't sure if he should move him yet.

Theo didn't look so comfortable anyway, it's hard to be when you got stabbed and got treated without painkillers. But it's nearly nothing new.

He covered the young doctor and tried to put him in a comfortable position.

Right after that he went to look for some other things they might need and figure out who did this.

****

Keir came back hours later. He found the painkillers and antibiotics he might need.

"Ok so where's the patient." James asked, yeah he went to get him.

Keir walked into the apartment, James followed behind.

"Here," he said, sitting back on a chair a few feet away, watching them.

James nodded, imm sitting close to check on him. "isn't this your doctor friend?" James asked, still focused on work though.

Keir nodded, "he was a target." He said, his voice monotone as usual. "they weren't trying to be deadly at least."

"How do you know?" James asked.

"He's still alive isn't he?" He asked, "plus just a gun is enough or a bigger knife."

James turned to see the tiny knife on the table. He nodded.

Theo's breathing was a little labored and painful but he was alright. No fluid or air build up in his lungs.

"He seems fine enough." James said, it didn't sound like it was good news still.

"Come on." James said, "the couch is no place to rest for someone stabbed in the chest."

Keir stood up, he and James picked Theo up. The young doctor would only whimper and moan in pain. Then slowly laid him down and James made sure he was breathing alright.

James began to attach the IV bag to his wrist. Antibiotics and painkillers. Luckily he didn't lose so much blood to need a transfusion.

With his job done, James stood up. "You did a good job," he told Keir.

Keir was rubbing his hand across his knuckle, he was worried.

He didn't respond to James just looking at Theo.

"Be careful." James warned, noticing that look in Keir's eyes.

Keir nodded.

James sighed, "I'll come check on him tomorrow." He said, then left.

****

Theo moaned weakly, his eyes opening slowly. It all felt so fuzzy in his mind, he got attacked when walking to the apartment, they knew him and he had a feeling he knew who sent them.

His vision cleared and he realized he didn't dream that last part, he did walk to K's place, somehow. With that realization, the pain hit, it wasn't as terrible as he expected.

He finally also felt the needle poking his wrist, ok so he was on some painkillers, hopefully some antibiotics too.

He took note of things, paying attention to how he felt as he took a breath. Of course it hurt but everything was in order and he wasn't dying.

He felt the bandages wrapped around his chest, he lifted his hand and lightly felt them, they were done right and not too tight.

There was a small weight by his side, Theo looked to the side to see a small ball of fur.

He smiled at the sleeping kitten, reaching over to pet her. She probably thought it was K in bed this whole time. How long has he been asleep anyway?

The door clicked open and K walked in. He put his keys down.

"Good, you're awake." He said, walking over to the kitchen.

He always has some sixth sense about things. Theo wanted to ask him but he was finding it hard to let the words out.

"About half a day." Keir answered, "that's how long you were out." He turned and walked over to Theo with a glass of water.

Keir helped Theo drink the water and Theo thanked him with a nod.

"..re'd…you…go?" Theo asked, finally able to speak.

"Getting information," Keir answered.

He probably knows about all of it already. They should talk about what to do about this.

"We'll figure it out another day for now, take it slow." K said, "you can lay low here."

Theo nodded, that was a better idea.

A small meow came from the bed, Evie woke up. She yawned, he small mouth stretching as well as her black body. She made her way to Keir, he pet her for a moment. Before she turned back to Theo, rubbing her head against his fingers.

Theo smiled, petting her as she wanted. She began to purr the more he did it.

[how-much-for-a-whump]

WHUMPTOBER day 15: Emotional damage

"Breathing Through the Pain"

Die Bergretter S11E06

[whumpdoyoumean]

Whumptober #15

xxx emotional damage

It’s kinda weird, OA thinks as he struggles to catch his breath, how used to this I am.

The bullet had knocked the wind out of him (it always does) and it’ll take him another second or two to get it back. There’s a familiarity as the adrenaline floods his system, and it might almost be comforting if everything didn’t hurt more this time. Still, he waves an unsteady hand in Maggie’s direction.

“Go!” he gasps. “I’m--I’m good! Go! Get him!”

Maggie looks worried, but she nods and chases after the suspect, just as he knew she would. He just lays there a little longer, and breathes. As he does, he notices just how much more it hurts this time. Something’s wrong, something feels…different. More serious, somehow, like the adrenaline is working harder. It takes a minute to put it all together.

He can feel something warm spreading across his right side. 

He blinks a few times, trying to slow his hundred-miles-a-second thoughts. Somehow he commands his fingers, trembling from the adrenaline and from nerves, to feel for holes in his vest. He finds the first bullet near his midline, stuck in the Kevlar. Only one bullet made it through then; that’s something at least. The other had gone through near the middle of his right side below, he thinks, his ribcage.

He allows himself another minute to breathe before he attempts to get to his feet. Every moment elicits a quiet grunt and he has to use the wall for support, but he manages to get upright without yelling or passing out, and really once he’s standing it’s not so bad... 

That’s when he hears a gunshot, and the pain is forgotten as he draws his weapon and he runs, down the hall and up two flights of stairs and he doesn’t see any sign of them so they’ve got to be on the roof so he hurries up those last few stairs and bursts through the door with his gun raised and shouts, “Freeze!” and--

There she is, with her knee in the suspect’s back slapping handcuffs on his wrists. The relief makes his knees weak as he lets out a long exhale. 

“You--you got him?” He’s more out of breath than he normally would be, heart hammering so hard and fast that it’s making his already aching chest ache even more. 

“Yeah, I got him.” Maggie looks over her shoulder with that look she gets when she’s trying to suppress a smug smile, though the expression quickly drops. “Hey, you okay?”

OA just nods, struggling to catch his breath and slow his heart rate. Now that the immediate threat has been neutralized, the adrenaline is fading. He’s grateful when the back-up they’d called for arrives, because it takes the attention off of him for a moment so that he can just breathe. 

“You guys take care of him,” he hears Maggie say, and two agents start leading the suspect away while she works her way over to him. There’s concern etched on her face even as she lifts one corner of her mouth. “He really got you good, didn’t he?”

OA nods again and tries to smile. Tries to think of something clever to say, too, but he’s dizzy and hurting and all he manages to get out is, “Yep.”

And then her expression drops, eyes widening slightly as her brow knits together. “Oh, my god,” she breathes. “OA, you’re bleeding!”

“What?” OA looks down as she closes the space between them. She’s right; the part of his shirt that’s visible between his vest and his pants is red. The blood from the wound must have soaked through. He brushes the fabric with his fingers. It’s still wet, and saturated enough that his fingers come away tinged with scarlet. He’d known he was bleeding, but it didn’t feel this bad. Or, it hadn’t, before the adrenaline started to wear off…

He staggers, and would have fallen if not for Maggie grabbing his arm and putting a steadying hand on his back. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I got you.” She looks up at some of the agents still on the roof and points at one of them. “You! Call an ambulance! Tell them we’ve got a wounded agent! C’mon, OA, let’s get you out of here.”

He leans on her heavily as they make their way across the roof. His legs feel like they’re made of jello, if jello weighed the same as lead, and the effort it takes just to walk has him sweating and panting as if he’d just run a 10k. But he can’t just collapse on Maggie, so he forces himself to keep going, through the door back into the building and on to the elevator. They come to a stop as Maggie pushes the down button (actually, she slams the palm of her hand into it repeatedly while muttering curses at it as if that will somehow make it go faster). 

She glances up at OA and apparently doesn’t like what she sees because her already stressed expression grows more pinched. “We’re almost there.”

OA doesn’t answer, doesn’t even nod this time. The unrelenting pain in his chest and side is only getting worse and he’s got to focus on his noisy, painful breathing. In and out…He’ll never take the usually simple action for granted again. 

The elevator arrives with a ding, and Maggie helps OA crowd into it, jamming the button for the ground floor until the doors shut. Then the elevator lurches into motion, and it’s enough for OA to lose his balance and his heavy-boneless legs fold underneath him.

“OA!” Maggie tries her best to catch him. When she can’t do that, she kneels next to him instead, working quickly to undo the velcro straps on his vest. “Hey, hey. Stay with me.”

“‘m with you,” OA grunts. He’s not sure how long that’ll be true. He feels like he’s been trying to catch his breath for the last twenty minutes and he has yet to do so.

Maggie pulls the top part of his vest away and makes a small sound that gets OA’s attention. He tries to lift his head. 

“What?”

“Lie back, lie back.” Maggie puts a gentle hand to his forehead to keep him from sitting up. “I’m just gonna put pressure on this, okay?”

He doesn’t have time to respond before she’s pressing against the wound and if it hadn’t hurt before, it sure as hell does now. He does his best not to cry out, but he does anyway, eyes squeezing shut. He does it again when the elevator jolts to a stop. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Maggie says. “Hold on one second...”

The pressure lessens a little as the doors open and she leans over to push the emergency stop button. 

Things are louder down here; the ground floor is milling with agents and local law enforcement, which is just great because an audience is exactly what OA needs right now. 

He doesn’t have the strength to yell when Maggie applies pressure again, just lets out a low groan. He’s getting tired. His breaths are finally slowing, too, but they’re heavy and loud and it doesn’t feel like a good thing. 

“Hang on, OA,” Maggie urges. “Where are we with that ambulance?”

“Five minutes, maybe more with the parade traffic,” someone answers. 

“Shit. Okay. Someone--someone find me a first-aid kit, please! Now!” She takes a deep breath, then turns back to OA and tries to smile. “How we doin’?”

“Um…’ve been better.” It’s as honest an answer as he’s going to give, but Maggie gets the picture and her face falls. 

“I shouldn’t’ve left you,” she says. “I should’ve--I should’ve made sure you were okay.”

“Don’t do that.” OA’s voice is quiet and strained, but he makes sure it doesn’t leave room for argument. “You did…you did ever’thing…right…”

His vision is starting to go fuzzy at the edges, like tv static, his ears ringing, and in spite of his best efforts he can feel his eyelids flutter. The last thing he hears is Maggie begging him to keep breathing.

xxx 

[whumpworld]

Emotional Damage

As expected, I have not kept up with Whumptober each day, but by god, I am going to finish it, even if out of order and late. I’ll make a masterlist at the end of the month.

Prompt: Whumptober No. 15 EMOTIONAL DAMAGE [Lies | New Scars | Breathing Through the Pain]

CW: Self-harm, burns, burns describe in moderate detail, conditoned Whumpee post-rescue, New Whumper = Caretaker, stressed Caretaker, Whumpee realizing Old Whumper was just an asshole.

Whumpee starts losing count after a certain point, so they start counting to ten instead, before starting over again. And again. 

It feels like it’s lasting hours, but punishment always feels like it takes forever. If they could focus enough, they think they’d already be at one thousand, but they can’t, so they aren’t.

They’re only at ten. 

And then one, then two, then three…

Each breath they drag in is marked with a number, just to swirl around their chest, sucked free of its oxygen and loaded with waste, and then forced out in a quick pant, gone forever, to be recycled by the dying houseplants or to escape out a window, if it makes it that far.

This used to help Whumpee, or, they think they remember it having helped, but now it just feels like extra work, like something else to keep track of in addition to the searing pain. 

Just another useless habit formed along the way.

They keep counting anway.

Even though it doesn’t lessen the pain in their hand. 

The electric stove heats up slowly, but already it hurts, the smooth, modern, obsidian glass top, shifting to orange—soon to be red—and their palm sparks in pain.

They used to be better at this. They used to be able to handle pain like this. The counting and breathing helped, and they could zone out for as long as they needed to. But now….Well, now it’s different. 

New Whumper is different. 

And Whumpee is weaker. 

So, when they broke New Whumper’s nice cup, they decided they would get ahead of things, punish themselves so they wouldn’t have to risk whatever punishment New Whumper decided.

They thought if they could pick their own punishment, they could handle the pain better.

But it hurts so bad.

The stove is red now, a bright, glowing spiral beneath their hand, their skin blistering and whitening against the surface.

How long should they hold it there?

Whumpee doesn’t know. They can’t focus enough to count above ten.

But at least New Whumper will be satisfied, when they find Whumpee’s penance is already paid. When they find—

“Whumpee!”

Whumpee startles at their name, but not enough to remove their hand. The stove hisses at the little teardrops landing on is red-black top. Whumpee hadn’t even realized they were crying.

Maybe the counting worked after all.

New Whumper lunges into the kitchen, stepping over the broken bits of cup on the floor, and grabs them by the wrist, yanking them away from the stove. As soon as they do, all the numbers, and air, and strength, rushes out of Whumpee all at once as they collapse backwards into their new master.

Their breathing comes in quick little gasps, and Whumpee speeds up their counting to keep up, because the pain is far from gone.

“Oh, oh, Whumpee, what happened?” New Whumper stutters, and they seem more upset than Whumpee as they hug Whumpee to them, still holding their hand aloft by their wrist.

New Whumper slowly turns over their hand and Whumpee can feel their body tense behind them as they both look down at bubbling skin.

“I–I need—needed p-punishing, so now, now Whumper does not have t-to.”

Whumpee’s voice sounds wet and weak. Weeping, like their bloodless wound.

Still gripped by the wrist, Whumper spins them around to face them, and Whumpee realizes New Whumper’s hand is shaking around their own. 

“Look at me, please,” New Whumper asks, and Whumpee looks up from where their tears spatter on the floor, from the shard of porcelain that skidded under the counter’s edge.

“I am not Whumper. You will never be punished, here. A broken cup isn’t worth your harm.” New Whumper say the words like they’re true.

“T-that’s…a lie,” Whumpee says, before they can stop themselves from speaking the blasphemous acustation.

“No. No, I promise. I will never hurt you. You don’t have to be punished. Not anymore.”

But that has to be a lie. Because if a broken cup, an improper kneeling, an unfollowed command, isn’t worth Whumpee’s hurting, then why have they ever had to hurt? Why have they ever been hurt?

Why have they had to learn to count each breath through all the pain?

“B-but—”

It’s all Whumpee can manage, before their voice cracks, and they start to sniffle, and they have to focus on keeping their hand from curling into a tight, little ball.

And when Caretaker pulls them to their chest and lets Whumpee bury their face in their hoodie, shushing them softing, sliding fingers through their hair while holding their burnt hand up protectively, they break down and cry for what feels like hours.

And this time, they don’t count their breaths.

[alexismusictrek]

New Story Alert🚨🚨🚨Finally got something done for my ‘Tobers this year💕 Art borrowed from @lyria-mar 😉

[sasuga-whump]

Whumptober 2022: "Headache"

Kamen Rider Ghost - eps 45 & 46

Takeru can't control the voices in his head

Find the full whump list for this show on my profile

[99point9percentwhump]

Whumptober 2022 day 15 - Breathing through the pain

[faofinn]

No. 15 EMOTIONAL DAMAGE

@whumptober

@whumptober-archive

Lies | New Scars | Breathing through the Pain

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Harrison let out a quiet groan, dizziness and nausea rising. He still wasn't convinced Steve was actually real, but it was better than the alternative. 

“I know.” Steve soothed. “I’m sorry. We’re going to get you home now.”

They got out as quickly as they could, and Fred left Steve with Harrison in the back of their van whilst he went back in. None of these fuckers were getting away with it if he could help it. 

There wasn’t much Steve could do in the van, with only basic supplies and a very unwell Harrison. He did his best, at least now he could see what he was doing, and wasn’t worried about getting shot whilst he did it. The gunshot wound was deep, and the shoulder was concerning. He didn’t want to do too much away from home, and so he carried on stabilising whilst they drove. He’d do the hard work in the safety and relative comfort of the basement. At least then he’d have all his supplies, x-ray and everything else, to make sure things were done properly. 

The basement was quiet when they arrived, getting Harrison settled in their little resus bay. Steve knew why Fao was away, but he really could have used the extra pair of hands, he had to admit. 

Harrison had spent the journey drifting in and out of consciousness, each pothole jarring his shoulder and taking his breath away. The basement was warm, though, such a welcome relief from the chill of the cell. As Steve set him on the bed, his stomach twisted again, and he realised all too late he was going to throw up. 

He had nothing but water to bring up, though the retching had him almost blacking out. He couldn’t remember how long he'd been stuck with Henri, but he knew the other man's fun wasn't all to blame. With a pathetic whine, he tried to curl in on himself, confused and sore.

“It’s alright, Harrison. You’re home now, you’re safe.” Steve said, rubbing his back gently. “I’m gonna take care of you.” He soothed him as he retched, a bowl stuck under his chin. 

His body trembled with exhaustion and shivered with the cold. Each breath was laced with a whine, no longer silent and stoic. Steve wouldn't hurt him. 

He turned away for a moment, to discard the bowl and grab what he needed. “I’m going to get a cannula in, alright? Get you some painkillers, some fluids to make you feel better.” He said, unsure if Harrison could actually hear him. He took his good arm, quickly found a vein, and didn’t waste any time with the cannula. “Sharp scratch.” He warned, but got it in easily.

Harrison had tried to pull his arm away, but Steve's grip was too strong. He supposed it might mean he'd get some relief from the pain, but the sudden realisation he might just knock him out had him panicked. 

"No. I don't want it."

“It’s alright. Just some painkillers, nothing nasty.”

"I'm sorry."

“It’s okay. Just some painkillers, yeah? It’ll help.”

"Don't hurt me."

“I’m not going to. I’m going to help, yeah?”

"Promise?" He finally looked up at Steve, searching the older man's face. 

“Promise.” Steve said firmly. “I’m going to need to put that shoulder back in, and that might hurt a bit, but let’s sort your pain first okay?”

Relief flooded his features. "'Kay."

“I won’t lie and say there’ll be no pain, but I’m going to be helping.”

Harrison nodded, letting Steve fuss around him. The promise of pain relief was good enough for him to leave Steve in control. Besides, he knew he'd be useless if he tried, aside from getting in the way.

Steve carefully gave the pain relief. “Give that a moment to kick in. Just keep breathing through the pain for me, I know it’s hard.”

He hummed, quickly feeling the pain relief, the room spinning. "Did Fao get away?"

“Made it to the safehouse, yeah.”

"Mm, good. Henri had it all planned. Had to do something to distract him."

“This is a bit overkill though, Hars.”

"He went too far."

“What a cunt.” Steve muttered. “How’s the pain now?”

"Better."

“You’re soaked to the skin. Can I get these clothes off?”

Fear flashed across his face. "He found the water."

“I can tell. There’ll be no more of that, not here. I’ll get some warm, dry clothes.”

"Okay." He sighed. "You can just cut it. I'm not moving my arm."

“They’re wrecked anyway.” Steve said, grabbing his shears.

"Yeah. I don't want them."

Steve worked quickly, and soon the wet clothes were discarded, replaced with thick blankets for now. He’d get proper clothes once everything was sorted. 

He knew he needed to sedate Harrison to reduce his shoulder and sort his fingers. The pain relief had worked, but he was going to need more than that. 

“Hars? I need to sort your shoulder now.”

"How?"

“It just needs putting back in place.” He said gently. “I’ll give some more for the pain, and some antisickness. Won’t take long.”

"Okay."

Happy that was good enough consent, Steve gave the antisickness and the dose of sedation he wanted. It would be best if Harrison didn’t fight this, even better if he didn’t remember.

"Steve?" He asked thickly. 

“Yeah?”

"Dizzy."

“That’s okay, that’s just the meds. Don’t worry about it.”

Steve wouldn't lie. "Alright."

“Nice deep breaths for me. Well done, you’re doing so well. How are you feeling?”

"Still hurts."

“I’ll get you some more meds.” Steve said gently, turning away to give more. “There. We’ll let that work.”

He frowned. "Fucking hell."

“Sorry, sorry. What is it? Dizzy?”

Harrison nodded, doing his best to breathe through it. "Too much."

“I’m sorry.” Steve said gently. “Try and relax into it, yeah? You’re safe now.”

"Trying."

“I know. You’re doing great.”

He gave a huff in response, too out of it to do much else.

Happy now he was properly relaxed and sedated, Steve could get a quick x-ray of Harrison’s shoulder and fingers. It was obviously dislocated, and the fingers broken, but it was good to have some images as a starting point. Still happy with his sedation, he could then go about putting the shoulder back, carefully grasping his arm. It was hard - it had obviously been out of place for a while - but he was well practiced by now and took his time. 

Harrison whined as Steve started to manipulate his shoulder, the drugs clouding his rational thought. "Get off."

“Sorry, it needs to be done, Hars.” Steve told him. “Won’t be long.”

"It hurts."

“I know, I know. Just give me a minute, yeah?”

"Please." He murmured. "I've been good. I've had enough."

“I’m helping, I promise. Just give me a minute.” Steve groaned, and managed to shift the joint back into socket.

Harrison moaned in pain, trailing off into a relieved sigh. It still ached, and the muscles spasmed around the joint. He struggled to get comfortable for a moment, shifting in the bed. The relief from the relocation was simply bliss, and he soon found himself drifting.

“You keep that still for me.” Steve said, glad Harrison had stopped fighting. He needed to sort the leg wound out now, and he worried that would set him off again, but he didn’t have a choice. Delicately, he cut through the makeshift bandage, trying to get a better look at the wound itself now he had better light.

He whined as the bandage was pulled off his leg, the dried blood sticking to the wound. He stretched his good arm out to push Steve off, confused why he'd be hurting him again.

“Sorry, I know it hurts. I need to stitch it.”

"No."

“I know it’s not nice, I won’t be long. It’s nasty though, Harrison, it needs looking at.”

"Steve." He whined, aware he was acting childish, but too out of it to care.

“I know. I’m really sorry, I’ll be done soon.” Steve murmured. “Try and relax, yeah? I bet you’re exhausted.”

"It's nasty because he shot me."

“Because he’s a cunt, which is why I need to sort it.”

"Gently." 

“Of course gently.”

"Good."

“I’m going to numb it in a minute, alright? Then it won’t be sore.”

"Good." Harrison nodded to himself. 

Steve reached once more for his supplies. “It’ll sting, but then it’ll be better.”

"Promise?"

“Promise.” Steve murmured.

"Please be gentle." 

“As gentle as I can be.” He reassured, starting with the local. “It’ll sting, sorry.”

Harrison groaned. "Ouch."

“I know.”

"I need a drink."

“Maybe later, yeah?” Steve said, taking his time to numb the whole area. “I’ll get you something to help.”

"After this."

“After this.” Steve agreed, finally finished. He left it a little time to go numb, hoping it would give Harrison time to mellow again under the sedation. 

He drifted for a little while, until Steve started prodding again. "Ow. Steve?"

“Yeah?” 

"Can we have a whiskey?"

“Maybe later, yeah?”

"Together."

“Yeah, maybe later.”

"Steve?"

Steve stifled a sigh. “Yes, Hars?”

"Thank you."

“You’re welcome.” He said, softening.

[averydistinctivewhump]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Dimension 20 (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lapin Cadbury/Theobald Gumbar Characters: Lapin Cadbury, Theobald Gumbar, Sir Toby Additional Tags: Whumptober 2022, Campaign 05: A Crown of Candy, Pre-Canon, Whump, Theo whump, breathing through the pain, Blood and Injury, Impaled, magical healing, Theopin, implied toby/theo, you can decide whats requited or unrequited, im stretching the ability of misty step a bit just go with it Series: Part 11 of whumptober 2022 Summary:

Lapin’s heart beat uncomfortably fast as the strong scent of cherry blood hit him. He let out a light breath of relief to see Sir Theobald sitting upright on the edge of a bed, though the rest of the picture was far from comforting. The Knights are attacked and Theo is injured. Lapin is called to help.

Day 15: breathing through the pain

[a-reader-and-a-writer]

Focus on Your Next Breath

Whumptober 2022: #15. Breathing Through the Pain Fandom: For All Mankind, Ed Baldwin, f!reader Word Count: 2340 TW: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Grief, Dealing with Grief, Mentions of Canon Death of a Child, Physical Complications Related to Prolonged Time in Space Notes: Set after Season 1 of For All Mankind and contains major spoilers for that season only.

There was always a transition period when returning to Earth. Your joints and muscles weren’t used to the increased gravity, your lungs weren’t used to breathing something other than purified air, and your sense of balance was all out of whack. But Ed Baldwin had been to space before and he thought he knew what to expect when he returned home. However, nothing could have prepared him for what he experienced after reentering the atmosphere this time. 

At almost 200 days, he had nearly doubled the previous record for the longest continual time spent in space. And what was more, a large portion of that time had been spent alone. Coming home had been a surreal experience and one he was not prepared for. Everywhere he went, cameras flashed, their lights seemingly as bright as the sun cresting over the lunar horizon. People screamed his name or cheered when he walked into a room, causing him to flinch and recoil from the thunderous noises. It was too much and there was no escaping it.

That is until tonight. Somehow, he had managed to avoid being spotted leaving his hotel and he made his way to The Outpost without anyone seeing him. He realized this wasn’t a great place to remain anonymous, but it was one of the few places that still felt normal to him. And besides, it was an astronaut bar and everyone at NASA knew what he was going through and knew to give him his space. So, he ordered a beer and retreated to a booth in the very back of the bar, trying to ignore the eyes he felt following him with every step. 

Once he was settled into the booth, he took a long drag from his bottle. He probably should have called Karen instead of coming out tonight. She had left a message for him while he was out earlier but he never called her back. He still didn’t know what to say to her. And there had been another message from NASA asking when he was going back to work. But he had also left that one unanswered for the same reason. He just didn’t know….   

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching and a voice stirred him from his thoughts. “Hey, Ed. Long time no see. Can I sit?”

Aw, hell.

He should have known you would track him down eventually. The last time Ed had seen you was when he was relieving you up on Jamestown base but that had been over six months ago. And since he returned to Earth, he had been purposefully avoiding you. 

As a NASA psychologist turned astronaut, the two of you had known each other since the day he had applied to the program. In fact, your evaluation of him was one of the factors that allowed him to be recruited. And once NASA began recruiting female pilots to train to go to space, you had been an obvious choice. Which was why you had also been selected to join him and Molly on Apollo 15 to become one of the first women on the moon. 

But as close as the two of you were, especially since you had become an astronaut, you were still a psychologist at heart and he had not been looking forward to whatever you had to say about what happened to him in space.

However, you were here now so he might as well get this over with. Ed grunted and fidgeted with his coaster as you slid into the booth across from him. “So, who called you? Karen, Gordo, or Dani?”

“No one called me. It’s Friday night. Where else would Ed Baldwin be but at The Outpost?” you grinned, but your face quickly fell as he continued to scowl. “I haven’t seen you since you got back and I wanted to check in and see how you were dealing with everything that happened up there. On top of dealing with your own… personal tragedy.”

Ed took a large swig of his beer. “Is that why you’re here? Does NASA want me to discuss my ‘personal tragedy’?” He scoffed, “Of course, they’d send you.”

“No. I told you, no one sent me. I came here on my own to see an old friend who I figured might want some company and to talk to someone who has some idea what they might be going through. After all, we’ve flown together, walked on the moon together, lived together for months in very cramped quarters. And I was on the first Jamestown rotation so I know what living there feels like, even if it was only for a fraction of your time. I just want to be there for my friend, however he needs me.”

“Why don’t I still believe that’s the full story?”

You rolled your eyes and sat back in your seat. “Listen, Ed, I’ve been watching the footage. I’ve seen the way you cower in crowds, how you flinch at every flashing light, how even now you are sitting in the darkest corner of the bar instead of your usual booth. None of that sounds like the Ed Baldwin I know. But I had a sense of what might be going on and wanted to talk. You’re still trying to readjust, aren’t you?”

Ed sighed. “We’ve been up there before and it was never this bad, but this time….”

“This time you were off planet for longer than anyone has ever been! Of course the side effects are going to be worse! I remember how bad it was when I came back from Jamestown 1. Every inch of me ached, inside and out, and I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest. The lights were too bright and the darkness wasn’t dark enough. Every sound seemed to be magnified fifty times its normal volume. And, damn, that was only after one rotation. I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling right now.”

“Well, you’re the expert, how do I fix it? How can I stop feeling like this?” he asked, hating the edge of desperation in his tone.

You reached across the table and took his hand. “There’s only one way, Ed….. Time. Right now, it might seem unbearable, but one day you’ll realize that the light isn’t quite so blinding. That the sounds are quite so unbearable. That the weight on your chest is a little lighter. And, eventually, you’ll feel almost normal again.”

“Almost?”

“After what you’ve been through, there is no going back to exactly the way things were. Something will forever be just slightly…. off. You’ll eventually learn to live with it, see it as your new normal and move forward, but you won’t ever forget how you were before. And that’s okay.”

Ed pulled his hand away as his eyes bored into you. “We’re not talking about the effects from space anymore, are we?”

“Can’t something apply to multiple situations?” When he continued to stare at you, you sighed. “Ed, no one should ever go through what you and Karen are going through, especially the way it all had to play out. Shane’s death might have been an accident, but that doesn’t make it easy to accept. He was just a kid, and you were up on the moon, and Karen… God, I can’t even imagine what that must have been like.”

“So you agree with what she did? You think it was right?”

You hesitated as you tried to find the right words. “I think… She was a grieving woman who was clinging to the tiniest bit of hope that her only son would be okay. And she didn’t want to tell her husband– who was already in an incredibly stressful and precarious situation– anything until she was certain of the facts. So, no, I don’t think it was right, but I think she made the best choice she could given the circumstances.”

Ed sighed. “Yeah. I think you’re right.”

“I am?” you asked, slightly shocked.

He nodded. “I was so angry with her at first. That she didn’t tell me when he got hurt. That she called and lied to my face when I asked how he was doing. That I had to find out something was wrong from the fucking Soviets.” His voice had been getting louder and more furious with each statement, so Ed took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. “But you’re right. At that point, she didn’t know. And there was nothing I could have done if I had known.” He hung his head.

“So then what’s really bothering you, Ed?” you asked softly. “Besides just the fact that Shane’s gone. I can see there’s more. If you aren’t mad at Karen anymore, then who are you still mad at?”

“Me,” he whispered. “I’m mad at myself. The last thing I ever said to him was that he was an embarrassment and a disappointment. That he needed to stop acting like a child and grow up. That’s the last thing I ever said to my son.” Ed fidgeted with the beer bottle in his hand. “And now, he won’t ever get the chance to grow up.”

“Oh, Ed.” You got up from your side of the booth and slid in next to him. He stiffened slightly as you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. But after a moment, he allowed himself to collapse into the embrace. 

He rested the side of his face against the top of your head as you said, “When something like this happens, it’s doubly hard because you are not only losing the child that you loved, but also the future you saw for them. All the plans and dreams you had for his life, all the potential he had, are also gone. And that’s something that deserves to be grieved too. But you have to know that Shane loved you. No matter what your last conversation was about, that kid looked up to you so much. He was always telling me that he wanted to be an astronaut just like you. And yes, you might have had some ups and downs in your relationship, and you might not have been as vocal about your feelings, but he knew you loved him.”

Ed squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears forming in his eyes from falling. Softly, he whispered, “But how do I get past this? Half the time, I can barely breathe, it’s just so much.”

“Back in training, what did they teach you to do when you got hurt and couldn’t breathe? Like for a broken rib, or a punctured lung, or if you got a hole in your spacesuit?”

“You put all your focus on your next breath. Don’t think about what comes after that, just get the air into your lungs at that moment, that’s all that matters.”

You nodded. “Exactly. And then once that’s done, focus on that next moment and so on. Stay present in the moment and don’t think about what comes next because unless you breathe now, it won’t matter what will happen in five minutes. This is the same thing. Heartbreak and loss are just as real and painful as any physical injury. And through it all, you need to keep breathing. So, don’t think about what you do next about you and Karen. Don’t think about what to do next about your career. Don’t think about what to do next about all of Shane’s things. For now, just think about making it through this moment and the rest can wait.”

“It can’t wait forever,” he said.

“It won’t have to. Like I said earlier, you just need time. Once this wound isn’t so raw, once it begins to scab over and the pain dulls to an ache instead of a stabbing pain, then you can focus on ten minutes from now. Then an hour. Then a day. And eventually, you’ll remember how to breathe again without thinking about it.

“But it’s not going to be easy and you’ll have to figure out ways to help you keep breathing. Maybe that means you and Karen won’t make it as a couple. And that’s okay. But maybe she is what helps you keep taking that next breath. And that’s okay too. You just need to figure out what you need to keep going.”

“Like you,” he whispered, taking your hand in his without lifting his head.

You squeezed his hand back. “Like me. I’m here for you, Ed. Whatever you need, however you need. You need to get drunk and get angry? I’ll bring the beers and something we can break. You need someone to talk to? I’ll listen and give whatever advice I can. And if you and Karen need someone to help you through this together? I have some old colleagues from my previous life I think could be really helpful.”

Sitting up, you looked into his eyes. “But you don’t have to do this alone. Asking for help doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re strong enough to realize you’re in trouble. So please, don’t shut everyone out. Me, Karen, Gordo, Dani, Molly…. You have so many people who care about you and want to help. You just have to let them.”

Ed stared down at the table. “I’m not– I mean, I don’t–”

You laughed, cutting him off. “Oh, trust me, Ed. I know you don’t do the touchy, feely stuff very well. But that’s okay.” You gave him one more tight squeeze before sliding out of the booth. Once you were standing, you offered him your hand. “Now, I have a bottle of whiskey in my car and no one to drink it with me. Care to help me out with that?” 

Ed gave you a playful smirk as he took your hand. “I think I can handle that.”

And as the two of you left The Outpost, Ed felt the weight on his chest lessen just a tiny bit.

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