#Difficulty breathing

[marypickfords]

Difficulty Breathing (Guy, 2017)

[whumpypepsigal]

Chicago Med s09e10: “Probably not a tension pneumothorax.” — “Hemo pneumo. You're bleeding into your chest.”

[how-much-for-a-whump]

Kuruluş Osman 142. Bölüm

Prompt: "Weak after battle"

source

[heart-hunting]

needed a release so bad so I decided to smoke and record myself putting pressure on my heart with my phone. first half is me laying on my back and putting pressure on my heart before deciding to switch positions as I fuck myself. all of my weight was on my heart as it pressed into my phone and the lack of oxygen from my face being stuffed in the pillow made my pumper go wild. The main recording stops at the 4:44 minute mark, but I left the sound of myself struggling to breathe in for those who enjoy that

[simply-whump]

See You in My 19th Life : Episode 3

>> Whump List

[random-fandom-whump]

Daredevil S01E02 ↳ RFW's Favorite Daredevil Whump Moments (✚)

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

Febuwhump Day 8

Panic – Echo - A quiet discussion between Doc and Hunter is delayed when Echo has a nightmare. Doc tries to ease him through it, resulting in a fun bit of shared taunts with Crosshair the following morning.

Warnings: Nightmare-induced panic attack. Non-intimate bed sharing. Fictional curses (does that need a warning?), sexual innuendo

WC: 2633

The air was beginning to grow heavy with the staleness of long-distance travel, the chill having long since settled into my joints from diverting power throughout the ship to grant just a fraction more speed to already straining engines. There was no pressing need to push the ship like this, but the Batch had a reputation of reckless efficiency to maintain. Most of the others had settled down, but I couldn’t flip my sleep cycle with the ease Wrecker’s deep snoring flaunted.

Letting out a slow sigh, I slipped from the medbay cot – it was far from comfortable, but the limited sleeping quarters in the transport granted few options. Wrapping the gray blanket snugly around my shoulders, I tread quietly down the center isle, eyes wandering fondly over the sleeping figures: Tech’s ankles were crossed, arm draping over his chest where it had clearly landed when he’d fallen asleep, datapad still glowing from beneath his loose grip. Echo lay slightly on his side in his hammock, scomp draping over his waist, lips just parted in rhythmic breathes. Crosshair was nestled against the very corner of his bed, back flush against the wall, and Wrecker was sprawled out on his stomach, one arm curled beneath his head while the other hung thoughtlessly over the edge, a clear line of drool already glistening at the corner of his mouth and soaking into his pillow.

I wasn’t surprised to see Hunter’s rack untouched, certain I’d find him monitoring the automated systems as an excuse to appreciate the rare, relative quiet of space travel. Snatching his meticulously folded blanket thoughtlessly as I crept past the sleeping soldiers, I made my way unhurried toward the cockpit.

“You should be asleep.” He chided, but there was no heat in his calm voice as I descended the ladder.

“You’re one to talk.” I shot back with a small smile. He was still facing forward, legs stretched leisurely out before him as he leaned back in the blocky pilot’s chair, elbow just visible on the arm rest. Without waiting for him to turn toward me, I snapped his blanket out, practically throwing it over him. He startled only slightly at the sudden movement, but quickly stilled, eyebrow cocking as he shot me a sideways glance.

“Doc… you realize we were created for this, right?” Paying no mine to his gentle mocking, I sat heavily in the copilot’s chair, knees tucking against my chest to wrap my own blanket more snugly around me.

“Mmhmm.” I merely hummed in response, earning a quiet chuckle, but my lips pulled into a small smile as he repositioned the thick fabric slightly if only to humor me.

“Do you ever think about what’s after this?” I felt his gaze turn more pointedly toward me as the quiet words fluttered over my lips, eyes staring blindly at the dancing glow of hyperspace before us. Allowing my question to settle back into the silence, he finally let out a small huff before leaning into the worn padding once more.

“Pretty sure there’ll always be a demand for medics, so I doubt you have much need to worry.” He offered. Only then did I finally turn to face him, brows just hinting at a frown.

“I don’t mean for me, Hunter.” I stated, waiting him out until he finally let his head fall, chin just resting against his chest, and I loathed that troubled worry that settled heavily over the powerful features of his face.

“Don’t know.” He finally answered. “Clones don’t exactly have a place out there that doesn’t involve a battlefield.” My eyes followed the absent motion of his hand as he waved vaguely toward the viewport.

“Yet.” I offered quietly. He didn’t humor me with even the echo of a smirk, jaw shifting stiffly forward. “What if you could choose?” I pressed, question falling lightly from a kind smile. “Say we reach Kamino and find out the war is over and clones have been granted full citizenship in a show of gratitude for your service: true freedom for you and your brothers,” His eyes closed slightly, and I could see his mind beginning to wander; to want, “What then?” He let himself think for just a moment longer before releasing a dismissive breath of laughter that threatened to break my heart.

“Master of small talk tonight.” He teased, some of his usually weariness returning to those umber eyes. I merely waited expectantly as he let his attention return to the swirling blues and blacks of space. “Guess I don’t really care where we wind up,” he started, voice quiet, “so long as I can keep us all together; keep us safe… Maybe somewhere quiet.” Finally, he let himself begin to truly entertain the idea; to dream. “It would be hard to find a life that would keep them all happy, but… maybe we could find some remote planet – become settlers and just… live.” I didn’t notice the smile spreading over my face until he glanced at me with a pointed smirk, but I didn’t withdraw, beaming at him with pure glee.

“The great settlers of Clone Force 99, braving unknown worlds and taming alien wilds.” I murmured brightly, heart soaring at the earnest chuckle that shook almost silently through his chest.

“What about you, Doc?” He asked, tilting his head back towards me, “What’s next for you once you’ve had your fill of all th-” That elation of far-off hopes and desires went cold in an instant as he went still, attention shifting pointedly toward the hallway behind us. “Echo.” He stated simply, sympathy robbing him of that brief moment of weightlessness.

“I’ll go.” I said, already raising to my feet. He started to object, jaw shifting beneath those relentlessly exhausted eyes, but I settled my hand comfortingly over his shoulder, meeting his gaze in a silence that said everything words simply couldn’t. He reluctantly deflated beneath my touch, a deep gratitude stealing over him as he looked up at me. With a final smile, I quickly moved toward the ladder, hopping up the rungs to reach the bunk room that much faster.

Beneath Wrecker’s still oblivious snores, I could just catch the occasional huff of a too-sharp breath, noted the way that red hammock rocked ever so slightly despite the smoothness of our flight. Quickening my pace, I trotted the last few steps, heart twisting at the pinched crease between his brows, the tension balling overtop his jaws.

“Echo.” I barely breathed his name, one hand resting over the top lip of crimson fabric while the other reached tentatively toward him. His head jerked slightly to the side, teeth just flashing in a brief scowl. Fingers brushing tenderly over his shoulder, I called him again. “Echo… Echo, sweetie, you’re dreaming.” His chest quivered with a frantic, broken gasp, body flinching away from me. “Echo.” Voice raising ever so slightly, I reached down to carefully hold his cheeks between my palms, thumb sweeping over taut muscle. Finally, his eyes snapped open, jaw parting amidst a violent gasp as his arm swept out before him in a panic.

“Shh-shh.” The comforting sound shushed quickly from my lips, letting my touch shift against him just enough to try to draw his attention to me. “Look at me, Echo – it’s alright.” Wide eyes darted blindly around us, only resting on mine for a fleeting second before continuing their desperate search for some ancient danger.

“You’re on the Marauder, Echo. You’re okay.” His hand abandoned its defensive flailing and latched sharply around my arm, frantically shifting gaze beginning to fall on me more frequently. “Easy,” I murmured softly, “You’re safe, Echo. Look at me,” I gently pulled his face back toward me, breathing a gentle, “good” when those golden eyes lingered on mine.

“I want you to breathe with me, okay?” His hold resettled almost neurotically around my upper arm, and I didn’t doubt the bruises I’d find later, but I’d let him break the damn thing before pulling away. Lips softening into a gentle smile, I made a show of drawing in a slow, leisure breath, held it for a moment, and then, with that same unrushed ease, let my shoulders sink as I exhaled. His attention remained locked on me, but the wild terror in the dilated pools of his pupils offered no signs of understanding.

“Come on, soldier, I gave you an order.” I teased, thumb again brushing over his cheeks. Brows furrowing further over haunted eyes, he almost belated grasped some fleeting understanding of my words, and, when I began to inhale once more, his teeth ground beneath the strain of fighting to obey me. “Good. You’re doing great, Echo.” Softly spoken words settled quietly in the air between us. The terrible depth of his fear continued to rend him into a trembling mess of tense muscles and shuttered breaths, but the entirety of his focus now seemed locked on me.

“Again.” I whispered, smile growing encouragingly. His hand shifted with his next tense inhale, darting up briefly to my shoulder before clasping around the back of my neck, arm tensing to pull himself closer, and I nearly broke beneath the violent need in those pleading eyes. “Okay.” I murmured quickly, leaning down to rest my forehead against his. “Okay, Echo; I’m right here.” He was still for only a few rushed breaths, trying and failing to match my calm pace before giving into his fear once more, arm jerking up to lock around me, nearly tumbling from the hammock in his fight to hide against me, legs kicking restlessly atop the too pliant fabric.

“Shh; alright-alright.” My gentle attempts to quiet him fell on deaf ears, struggling to keep him from falling as I eagerly returned the desperate embrace. The moment my feet finally slipped off the floor as I tumbled forward on top of him barely registered in the face of his utter surrender, clinging to me even with his scomp, the augmented limb looping tightly around my lower back. Forehead tucked up into my neck, he merely held me as he trembled.

I continued pressing the soothing words and gentle promises into the fleeting breadth of air between us, carefully shifting a hand up his neck to let my fingers card through the short curls of hair just beginning to regrow around the metal nodes. Slowly, that horrid tremble began to still, breath steadying enough to match mine, but his hold never lessened, arms clutching me tightly against him even as he started to fade. Vaguely, I worried over how my weight might feel pressing against the nodes lining his chest and torso, but, if it caused him any discomfort, he seemed not to notice, nor, surprisingly, did they dig painfully into me.

Unlike the others, Echo was almost always cold. He rarely spoke of it, but I’d seen it in the way his mood fell in poor weather, felt it in the chill of his flesh during the occasional shared touch. Now, however, with the two of us nestled together in the snug cocoon of his hammock, the cool air was a distant thought, warmth quickly pooling between us.

I didn’t noticed my own weariness sneak up on me, overcome with my own relief that the man still hidden against my neck was finally free of that terrible panic, and there was no thought to leaving him, balking at even the risk of waking him. Just a short while longer… I’d stay for just a bit longer, just in case the nightmares returned.

-

The choked sound and sudden tensing of muscle beneath me brought me back to a reluctant awareness, brows drawing wearily together as I glanced toward the noise, frown deepening slightly in confusion to find Echo staring at me mid gasp, horror and embarrassment sending a painfully hot flush blooming over pale cheeks, arms carefully held away from my body.

“Right…” I sighed, rolling my shoulders slightly to test the stability of the hammock. “Sorry – didn’t mean to fall asleep.” I’d shifted onto my side at some point in the night, arms still coiled loosely around his head.

“S-I… um…” I had to quickly bury my teeth into my cheek to silence the giggle at how painfully flustered he was.

“You had a pretty bad nightmare. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, but I kinda couldn’t… um… leave.” I tried to explain, pulling my arm from under his head to lean onto, easing at least partially off of him.

“Maker, no-no. Kriff, Doc; I’m sorry…I-” I waved away his words dismissively.

“It’s fine, Echo; really.” I assured him once more, head twisting to glance at the edge of the hammock. “Don’t supposed there’s an easy way out of this thing?” I asked lightly, again trying not to laugh at the lingering panic in those comically wide eyes.

“Oh! Ah, um, not-not really.” He stammered apologetically, jaw opening in silence a moment as his torso started to tense before catching himself and freezing once more. “Your, uh… your legs.” His gaze turned pointedly to lock onto the wall of red fabric beside him, lips stumbling slightly over the words. “Swing your legs over first.”

With a sympathetic smile, I elected against drawing it out any longer, steadying myself with one hand on his chest while the other gripped the hammock itself before slowly craning a leg over the edge, arms tensing against how the bed rocked beneath us from the movement. His fingers flared, torn between reaching out to help me and panicking at the mere thought of initiating further contact, but I managed to touch my foot to the smooth flooring and was able to free the rest of my body with relative ease, shooting him a victorious smile that, even in the frenzy of embarrassment, gleaned a tiny huff of laughter from him.

“Yuh know, I actually haven’t slept that well in a while.” I groaned, arms stretching above my head. Without lingering for a response, I started unhurriedly from the bunk room, lured away by the faint scent of caf.

Hunter was still in his bunk, feigning sleep even as he fought to bite back his own grin, but the others were already dispersed throughout the ship. How we’d slept through Wrecker getting up was beyond me, but I was grateful they’d left us to rest - Echo certainly needed it.

Crosshair was the only one in the tiny kitchenette, lithe body stretching lavishly between two chairs, head absently tilted back with a still steaming mug cradled between his hands. He didn’t open his eyes as I entered, but those thin lips began to curl. I merely readied myself in silence for whatever clever quip he’d surely been waiting all morning to deliver, busying myself with the automated movements of preparing my own cup of caf.

“That a service you’re offering to the whole squad, now, sweetie?” The taunt dripped from that haughty smirk, sharp eyes slitting open to locked onto me in search of a bloom of embarrassment or stutter of shame. Unphased, I merely cocked an eyebrow and, voice sweetly innocent, answered calmly with a question of my own.

“Are you asking me to sleep with you, Crosshair?” The quickness with which that smirk fled his lips, heat seeping up his neck in a flush of red, nearly broke my careful façade of control, jaw tensed against the bark of laughter begging to escape, but I managed to reign it back as I casually walked toward him. Eyes wide, caught, he sat frozen as I approached, but, when I reached down to muse his hair with my hand, that spell broke, head jerking away from me with a deep snarl. Laughing softly, I said nothing more as I continued out of the room.

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[whumpty-dumpty-doo]

We Are TroubleD - "A Breathtaking View"

Written as a part of @whumperofworlds' WoW's Birthday Whump Event!

Day 14 (my chosen prompts are bolded): Guilt / Chased / "I bought you time, use it!"

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Event page | My event participation masterpost (coming soon) | “We Are TroubleD” Masterpost | First | Previous | Next

Don't worry, you haven't missed the entries for days 6-13! For more info, please see the notes at the bottom of the post.

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Content warnings: Blood (minor), captivity, difficulty breathing, fear (and fear of death), inability to breathe, injuries (bruises, leg, minor cuts), loss of consciousness/passing out, manhandling, physical abuse (kicking, punching, slapping, strangling), potential character death, recapture, restraints, strangulation, struggling, swearing

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            The escape attempt hadn’t gone well for D. While T had been able to slip out and actually get away, D… well…

            Once his friend left, D had managed to make a decent dent in his ankle cuff by focusing on the strap that held the metal loop securing the chain. He had weakened the leather considerably by raking the scissor blades across the spot over and over, and finally, after a lot of yanking and twisting, it had popped open. At last, he was free from the shackle that tethered him to the wall. The cuff itself was still attached to him, but he could work with that. 

            He hastily stuffed the scissors under his mattress, then bolted into the main area of the basement and scanned around for the window that T had used to escape. There was a chair pushed up to one of the walls, and he figured that was the spot.

            His breath caught at the sound of floorboards squeaking above him. Shit, shit shit! His captor was awake! It was do or die now. No time to waste. He scurried up the chair, slid the glass open, hoisted himself up, and stuck his front half out into the world.

            Cool morning air filled his lungs, so crisp and refreshing that his heart wanted to sing. He could see the sky again without a windowpane separating him from it. The sun hadn’t quite crested the horizon yet, but it was marching along. And the grass… God, he never thought he’d miss seeing grass.

            The image was ripped away far too quickly though. There was no warning, just an instantaneous action– an unseen hand grabbed his ankle and yanked, violently jerking him back through the window frame. In a frenzy he grasped for anything he could find, but there was nothing around him large enough to latch onto.

            D crashed to the basement floor with a howl of pain as he landed on his right leg. It cushioned him a little bit, but it was not a short distance to fall. He couldn’t even process what had just happened before his captor was behind him seizing his arms and holding them securely behind his back.

            “THE FUCK YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING?!” he demanded.

            D was aghast as he was pulled to his feet.

            “Get off of me!” he threw his whole body to try to wriggle free of the man’s grasp, but that only caused him to be drawn in tighter and held against his captor’s chest.

            A strong hand wrapped itself around his throat and applied pressure, not enough to choke, but enough to send a warning.

            “STOP!” D shouted, tossing his head, but he was suddenly quite scared.

            “How the fuck did you get free?!” the man squeezed his throat a little tighter and D stilled for his own safety, swallowing hard. He pulled in a few shallow gasps as he thought about his answer, his heart pounding.

            “Dull tool… sharp wit…” he croaked. A small cocky smile pulled at the edge of D’s lips. It wasn’t the time for sass, but snark made him feel better.

            “Real explanation, boy.” the grip tightened, so much so that D could no longer answer him.

            D strained until the man’s hand loosened, allowing him to suck in deep breaths again. Unfortunately, there was virtually no time to recover before he was pushed toward the storeroom. He planted his feet, but his captor just swiveled him around and dragged him backwards. D growled and flailed again.

            The boy was furious, but he wasn’t foolish enough to think this wouldn’t be a possibility. It had taken him a long time after T had left to work through the strap. It truly was just a matter of time before his captor woke up and came to check on them. The odds of D being caught were pretty high.

            Still, he had that stupid little glimmer of hope in his mind once he was free. The second he stuck his front out the window and smelled the dew on the leaves… heard the birds chirping their morning melodies…

            D grit his teeth, snarling, kicking, and thrashing against the man’s grasp. His intention wasn’t exactly to get away—though he would try to run again if he got the chance—he just wanted to slow the bastard down a bit and make it harder to pull him back into the storeroom… Anything to buy T more time to find help.

            Why not poke the hornet’s nest a bit while he was at it, too?

            “Mad you got outsmarted?” D taunted. “Yeah, I bet so, you piece of shit. I almost got away with it, too. You’re lucky I went for the window and not for your throat. I’ll get through both next time.”

            A heavy fist collided with his skull and D was momentarily stunned, but quickly shook off the feeling with a smirk.

            “Getting to you, hm? Can dish out taunts, but can’t take them? You’re pathetic.”

He was punched again, harder this time. It took D a little longer to bounce back from that one, but he laughed, a little weaker than before.

            “It’s almost over for you and you have no idea. We won, bitch.”

            His captor was probably about to indulge him by asking what he was talking about when they reached the storeroom. He took one look over his shoulder to navigate inside, however, and saw that both mattresses were empty. His nails dug into D’s arms.

            “WHERE IS HE?!” he bellowed.

            D lifted his head, staring his captor right in the eyes as he flashed him a smug, shit-eating grin.    

            “Gone.”

            The man roared and ripped something off of the wall- another set of thick leather cuffs. D was swung around and thrown to the floor where his wrists were shackled swiftly behind him. Still, he kept up his goading smile.

            “Tie me up again, sure. You’re a one-trick pony. It doesn’t matter either way; I’m not scared, and you’re too late. Help’s on its way.”

            A sharp kick connected with his ribs and D yipped, then groaned out a swear as he curled in on himself. It was the only thing that gave him pause.

            “Shut up you fucking brat! Where did he go?!” his captor flipped D over to face him, and D, battered but still combative, pressed his lips together and shook his head.

            He was slapped across the face. D might not have been scared in the moment, but the man apparently was.

            D felt something dribble from the side of his mouth, and he licked at it. Blood. Huh. Imagine that.

            “WHERE. DID. HE. GO?” another slap, but D stared defiantly back up at him.

            “Get fucked.”

            He only made a small gasp when the man’s hands were back on his neck, progressively constricting it tighter and tighter.

            “You won’t… kill me…” D challenged, and he knew it was true. The whole point of his stay here was to be ransomed. His parents would have no reason to pay this asshole if he was dead.

            The grip became more intense.

            “Last chance, boy. Where. Is. He?”

            D sputtered and quivered, his body fighting on its own to breathe. His thoughts were growing fuzzy, the need for air slowly beginning to overtake his loyalties.

            “I don’t… know… He ran…” he choked out.

            But the hands didn’t leave his throat… they only pressed tighter. Panic flashed in D’s eyes; He thought he’d be released after giving up some information. It was intentionally vague, but it was the truth. The threat had worked, at least a little bit.

            Black dots danced before his eyes, and he gave another desperate shudder, frantically trying to suck in a breath to plead for his life. The links on his cuffs rattled angrily as he struggled and shook. The world was falling away.

            No… It couldn’t end like this…

            His vision tunneled, darkness encroaching on all sides.

            ‘T… I need you… please…’

            Then there was nothing.

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Day 14!

If you're clicking through these and wondering why you just jumped from day 5 to day 14, it's because I decided to post these in the order that made the most sense for my story chronologically. This whole escape scenario kind of blossomed far beyond what I expected it to and wound up becoming its own mini story, so here we are! I couldn't wrestle the prompt days in order to fit the story I wanted to tell, so that's why they're hopping around a bit. Sorry!

Entries for the other days are coming. To see the entries in event prompt day order, please see my event participation masterpost (coming soon, will be linked here when it's up).

If you have any questions, you can always ask me, but hopefully you can find everything I've written for this event in whichever order suits your fancy from the links up above!

Thanks for reading!

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Tag list: @gala1981

[yronig]

TOKYO MER: Hashiru Kinkyu kyumeishitsu

Ep.5

[knights-in-whumperland]

Connect (2022): Episode 5

[linecrosser]

Febwhump 2023 - No.10 - Difficulty Breathing

(but who is the one having a nightmare?)

[whumpacabra]

19. At Anchor

Field medicine, medical treatment, implied nonconsensual drugging, implied past panic attack, bruising, needle use [IV], past trauma, referenced difficulty breathing, referenced starvation, referenced murder

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

“That gonna happen again?”

Harrison looked up at Thomas’ question, dread sinking in his gut as the Wolf’s sobs softened and the anesthesia pulled him under. He shrugged, pulling the shock blanket around his shoulders tighter.

“It happens all the time, Tom.” Dan, for the blooming purple bruise along his jaw and throat, seemed chipper despite the disruption. With the Wolf’s bleeding stemmed and the threat of death put off by a fresh blood bag, the medic was far less intense. “Why don’t you help Mer get him into the house - she can finish cleaning him up. Might be more comfortable under, uh, a woman’s touch.”

Thomas hesitated - he had been outside on the radio for Harrison’s quiet confession. Merrill grabbed the young deputy by the shoulder and began to direct him how to hold the Wolf without aggravating his injuries.

Harrison started to stand to follow, but Dan clamped a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back to the ground.

“No you don’t - you need saline and antibiotics. He’s not going anywhere fast.” Dan’s grip eased as Harrison relaxed, cross legged on the concrete floor. The medic's inspection was brief - antiseptic and wound glue for the gash in Harrison’s hairline, an IV line full of liquids and antibiotics for his chest infection, and -

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten?” The old man’s eyes were shadowed, the question soft. Harrison shrugged, the mild painkillers in the IV easing the aches of his atrophied muscles. “Son, just give me an estimate.”

“A week or so.” He sighed; time in the Box was a fluid and fickle thing to keep track of. “Maybe longer. Not the longest I’ve gone. Had some saltines and water earlier and haven’t hacked it up so far.”

There was something tired in Dan’s eyes as he gestured to Harrison’s bloodstained clothes.

“That from him or you?” Harrison stared at the brown stained burgundy jacket.

“Neither. Wolf - Wolf took care of it. He - he’s dead now. He’s dead.”

“He the one that hurt you boys?”

“One of them. The worst of them.”

“I need you to be honest with me son: are there angry folk looking for you and your friend?”

“Oh, hell yeah.” Harrison nearly choked on the laugh in his throat. “They were pissed even before we - oh my god -” He shuddered, hands tangling in his matted hair to ground himself. “Oh my god they’re going to kill us.”

“Not if we have any say in it.” The deputy spoke with the weight of an older man as he couched next to Harrison’s shivering form. “I don’t know you boys or what you’ve done, but what’s been done to you ain’t right. Whoever hurt you isn’t gonna come within spitting distance without catching a .45 in their gut, I swear to you.”

Harrison swallowed back his bitter words. For Merrill and Thomas' reassurances, it only made the terror in his gut fester. What could the deputy of a one horse town do against helos and turret mounted humvees and whatever else those fuckers would use to scrub out any evidence of their dirty work? What would they do to anyone who stood in their way?

“Okay.” Was all he could settle to say in reply. Thomas’ smile was tight as he nodded to Dan.

“Mind if I ask him some questions?”

“So long as he pipes up if that concussion of his starts getting to him.” Dan had started stripping off his bloodied apron and gloves, tossing them into the puddles of blood on the tarp. “But you, son, best get some rest afterward and let the meds do their work. Fuckin’ miracle either of you are alive let alone up and walking.”

“Yessir.” Harrison nodded, a flash of nostalgia for Merrick’s foul mouthed debriefs. The tangled dog tags in his pockets burned.

“Alrighty then - start small.” Deputy Thomas had a yellow note pad and pencil in hand.

“Who the fuck are you Harrison?”

AU Masterpost / Previous / Next

(An AU of my Freelancers series)

[whumpypepsigal]

FUBAR s01e07: “Barry, Aldon’s struggling to breathe here.”

[how-much-for-a-whump]

WHUMPCEMBER day 12:

Altprompt: "Drowning"

Kardeşlerim 108. Bölüm

@whumpcember

[heart-hunting]

recorded this just a few minutes ago and I still haven't recovered but fuck it felt so fkn good. Ive never felt my heart this fast and I had a weird feeling in my chest but it felt sooooo good. especially when I stuffed my face into my pillow, gasping desperately for air as my phone applied pressure onto my heart. I almost passed out a few times. my body is still shaking. I wish I had passed out

[minty-mumbles]

Febuwhump Days 9 & 10: Voice loss and Difficulty Breathing

A/N: This is meant to be part two of this fic, but can be read independently without too much confusion. Read the full collection of my febuwhump ficlets on AO3

~~~

Wild woke painfully slowly. It was not the comforting slow rise to consciousness one experienced when you had a good night’s sleep, and were surrounded by comfort.

Instead, Wild had to claw his way to awareness. His body screamed for more sleep, telling him that he needed more time to recuperate, but at the same time, pain radiated throughout him, preventing him from falling asleep. He doesn’t know how long he lay there, on the verge of waking but prevented by his tiredness, and on the verge of sleep, but prevented by his pain.

Eventually, a burning feeling in his throat tipped the battle in the favor of wakefulness. He heaved a sigh as he fully woke, and as he did so a quiet wheeze escaped his throat. The sound caused something nearby to stir. 

The warm surface he’d been laying against shifted, and the movement made him aware that he was laying next to someone who had their arm draped over him protectively. A low voice disturbed the quiet. Wild didn’t quite process what was said through the last vestiges of sleep clinging to his mind, so he elected to ignore the voice. 

He couldn’t bring himself to worry about who it was lying next to. Whoever it was, they radiated comforting warmth, and that was good enough for Wild. He simply buried himself further into the warmth the other person’s chest offered. 

Despite having shaken off the sleep that clung to his mind and kept him in an unpleasant daze, Wild still felt horrible. He was still exhausted but knew he wouldn't be able to fall back to sleep. The burning of his throat that had woken him had faded slightly, but Wild knew that if they tried to swallow, the pain would return. His jaw was sore, and it hurt to move. He probably wouldn’t be able to speak even if he tried. 

The rest of his body was also sore and stiff as if he’d been holding a stressful position for too long, and he could tell there was a variety of injuries littering him. But he was used to being injured, and nothing felt overly painful, so he elected to ignore the pain for the sake of seeking comfort from whoever was laying next to him.

Unfortunately, the mystery person didn’t seem content to let Wild be. The arm that had been laying over him retracted, and the person shifted to sit up. Wild reluctantly let them, mourning the loss of the warmth. He shivered at the lack of it, but he remained curled up where he was. 

The mystery person didn’t seem to appreciate that and started gently but insistently nudging his shoulder. Wild with his throat and jaw being as sore as they were, Wild didn’t bother to vocalize his protest. He simply burrowed further into the blankets.

A hand came to stroke the messy strands of bed head away from his forehead, and Wild let out another soundless huff, leaning into the hand.

The voice spoke again, and now that Wild was properly awake, the haze of sleep had cleared from his mind enough that Wild could recognize the voice and understand what he was saying. It was Twilight, and his voice was gentle, but he spoke assertively. 

“Wild, come on, you have to get up. You can go back to sleep after, but you need to sit up for now.” Wild really didn’t want to, but he knew Twilight wouldn’t leave him alone until he did so, and would forcefully sit Wild up himself if he needed to. So he reluctantly got his arms under himself, hauling him up into an upright position. It was harder than it should be.

Twilight placed a hand on his back, guiding him to sit slumped against the rancher’s side. Wild tucked his face into the crook of Twilight’s neck, hiding from the bright light of day that he’d opened his eyes to. He ignored the pain in his throat and groaned emphatically to make his protest known. Twilight hummed sympathetically. “I know, but you’ve been asleep for a while. You need to take something.” 

Wild didn’t move, happy to stay tucked into Twilight’s shoulder, and for a few moments, Twilight let him. Then Wild felt Twilight shift his grip, releasing Wild with one hand and taking something from someone who approached from behind. “Come on, Hyrule made some tea with some red potion in it.” The person, Hyrule apparently, moved away silently. Wild reluctantly sat up, supporting his own weight. 

If he had to drink something, it might as well be Hryule’s tea. The traveler may be a terrible cook, but he knew his way around herbs and was an expert at concealing the bitterness of a red potion with the sweetness in the tea he brewed. It wasn’t often they had the liberty to take the time to brew Hyrule’s special tea before taking a potion.

Wild drew away from Twilight and obediently took the tea. He sipped the drink slowly as he thought.

The others had obviously had time to prepare for his injury while he was unconscious. It made Wild wonder what happened. Why was he injured and asleep in the middle of the day? The answer was easy to find once he started searching his memory.

The Yiga. 

Being kidnapped.

Being held hostage.

The Muzzle and the too-tight rope around his neck. 

Wild shuddered at the memories that flooded him, and lowered the cup from his mouth, His hands became shaky as his thoughts progressed.

He desperately wanted to ask Twilight what had happened, How had the other heroes found him? How did they rescue him? Why hadn’t the Yiga just killed them when they had managed to surprise him? He reflexively opened his mouth to ask those questions and more, but the second the first syllable passed his lips, he was forcefully reminded of why he had needed the tea in the first place.

His hand flew up to his neck, trying to do anything to alleviate the burn and ache in his vocal cords. The tea he had been holding in his lap spilled everywhere, and Wild couldn't even begin to regret it, as distracted as he was. Twilight was there in an instant, catching the cup and setting it away from him. He caught Wild’s hands in his.

“Wild, Wild, shhhhh.” He urged. “Your throat is bruised, and I know your jaw can’t feel any better. Just take it easy until the potion does its job. Just use sign until then.”

Wild tried to wheeze out a protest, but that only made it harder to breathe. The realization that he could not speak, no matter how hard he tried, struck Wild like a flaming bokoblin club. 

Twilight was right: Wild could sign to get his point across, but the burning in his throat was hauntingly familiar. It was too reminiscent of the feeling that had been present in almost all the memories he had recovered. After Wild had come out of the shrine, he had taken pleasure in being able to use his voice in a way he hadn’t since he had drawn the master sword the first time. Not that he’d known that at the time. He had just known that he liked being loud, and expressing his opinion to the world. He talked constantly, even when he was alone.

It had faded over time as Wild grew used to suddenly having the power of speech again, but he’d never ceased to be a chatterbox. 

It didn’t matter that now his voice had been stolen by a piece of rope and not anxiety. Having it taken away from him again hurt more than Wild could express in words- signed, spoken, or otherwise, 

Twilight brought Wild back to his chest, holding him tightly and trying to offer comfort. “It’s okay, the potion will start to work soon, and you'll be right as rain.“

Wild didn’t know how to begin to explain to him that it wasn’t the physical pain that was making him cry.