#whumptober 9

[kikker-oma]

Warning: Blood

.

.

.

.

[insertsomthinawesome]

WHUMPTOBER 2022 - DAY 9 - Tossing and Turning

Realizing this is the first time I’ve drawn Hu Tao for serious.... Sorry sweetie 😅 Being ill + having bad dreams... Hu Tao doesn’t see Zhongli this distressed very often. Thankfully she has experience handling people who are less than at their best. -NO ROMANCE INCLUDED-

[abneyart]

Whumptober Day 9: "You're a Liar."

Gale: best night of sleep since Mystra Ros: up all night terrified that he was just lying to placate her and is still planning on blowing himself up

Uncensored on Patreon!

[jasmines-library]

Just forget about it.

WHUMPTOBER 2023: Prompt: ‘conditioning’

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: As part of the winter soldier program, all you’ve know is how to kill. After years of being left in cyrofreeze, you are finally let out and are given a mission; to protect. You follow it to the t. Until a certain familiar face shows up to get you out of there. (I suck at summaries ok?)

Warnings: Torture, mind control, fighting.

Word count: 2.8k

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

The room was cold, and you couldn’t see anything besides the white fog that rose slowly in front of your face as your mind snapped back online. It hurt too, as your brain began to receive signals again from your pain receptors, your body lit up like it was being stabbed over and over again by a thousand tiny needles. They dug into every inch of your body,  burning in your veins. Everything seemed too loud; your thoughts which raced at a thousand miles an hour, the harsh tones of the men surrounding you, the loud clunking of the machines. It made you miss the blissful silence you had been engulfed in for who knows how long.

When the door to the chamber hissed open, and the cold clouds of ice dissipated away, you squinted at the bright light which flooded in. When your eyes adapted, you stared grimly at the man before you. He was all too familiar, though he looked significantly older. It was the face of the man who had tortured you and shaped you into what you were; an unstoppable weapon. He smiled darkly at you as you tried to move away, though you were still restrained by the metal cuffs that pulled you tight against the back of the chamber. You had been in this position before, but something was different this time. This time you remembered. You remembered the feeling of the harsh grip on your arm as you were dragged back into where you would be put back into a deep, meaningless sleep. You remembered the cold and then pain- tenfold to what you were feeling now. But you also remembered a face. One with hard features; long dark hair and firm blue eyes, but often with gentle intent. Something nagged at you that you shouldn’t be able to remember that.

The man stepped towards you, the shit eating grin still plastered on his face. “Hello my lotus.” He spoke to you, his Russian thick and unmissable. “Oh how I have missed you very much. It was such a shame when we had to put you back in cryofreeze. I have missed your pretty face very much, but not to worry. I have a job for you, my lotus.” He lowered his voice. “Let’s just hope we don’t have another little mishap. Hmm?”

He leaned down towards you and you took it as a chance to spit in his face. “You fuck yourself.”

He blinked, wiping away the spit from his face before turning back to you. “You are going to regret that, soldat.” 

There were more hands on you then, freeing you from the restraints and dragging you through the room. With what little energy you had, you squirmed but that only resulted in a kick to the ribs to settle you down. 

They brought you to an open room, industrial looking of sorts. It was large with machines for all sorts pressed against the walls. In the centre of the room, raised on a circular platform stood a chair. The fabric of the chair was torn and frayed beneath the harsh light above it. You writhed as the men dragged you towards it. You kicked and screamed like a child as you struggled to get away. The chair held too many unwanted, painful memories. When you were forced onto the old leather and bound once again by metal cuffs on your forearms, the familiar man stepped before you and grinned, trailing his hand along your jaw. 

“Let’s hope you learn to obey this time, soldat.”

With that, he turned to slam the heavy doors to the room. You heard the locks whirr as they clicked into place, as he moved away into some part of the room that you couldn’t see from where you were sitting, leaving you with another man whom you didn’t recognise. He stepped forwards, ensuring that you were secure. 

“Begin.” You heard from behind you. 

There was a shuffling across the room, followed by a whirring of the machinery you were strapped to as it started up. Then you were consumed by a blinding pain. You let out a blood curdling scream, which ricocheted off of the tiled walls. Thrashing and writhing, you tugged on the metal cuffs. They dug into your skin and you tried to escape the pain that radiated in your head and raced through your body. It was a thousand agonies at once. When you thought you couldn’t take any more, the pain amped up. Your head pounded and your eyes burned against the light. Your fingernails scraped along the leather as your back arched. Blood dripped from your nose and your ears. You could taste its copperness as it spilled over your chapped lips and into your mouth. 

Then, it all stopped. 

Your body slumped back against the chair with what little energy you had left. Your limp body heaved for air. You swallowed thickly; your throat was raw. 

The man slunk forwards from wherever he had retreated to in the room. Your body froze when the string of russian words began to slip from his mouth. 

“Purify.”

You tensed, eyes wide as you looked around the room.”

“Brass. Hang. Illustrate.”

You thrashed, trying to cover your ears with your hands, but to no avail. 

“Noiseless, twelve, evanescent.”

“NO! No..” You cried. These words would be your undoing. Once they had been uttered there was no going back. You couldn’t go back. 

“Illustrate, beserk.”

“NO! STOP IT!... Please.”

“Connection.”

Your mind went black. No feelings, just the urge to follow orders. Thoughts, but no control or freedom over what they were. Your bloodied body relaxing in the chair. Thousands of memories of your training and your experimentation flooded your head. You raised your head to look up at the grey haired man. “Ready to comply.”

“Good. We have a mission for you, Soldat.”

~~~

Shoot, kill, protect. Shoot, kill, protect. 

That was all that went through your mind and you slunk around the corners of the base. It had been infiltrated by a group of highly-trained superheroes. They were hardly subtle, despite how much they tried to be. Your enhanced hearing allowed you to hear their footsteps echoing across the halls. Pressing yourself up against the wall, you waited until they had rounded the corner. You were lingering only a few feet away from where Zola had locked himself away to prepare for his escape. You were not only guarding him, but also the files that he possessed. Little did you know that that was not all that the Avengers were hoping to find. 

When the footsteps rounded the corner, you were greeted with a redhead woman. Before she could move any further, you had your hand wrapped tightly around her throat, pinning her against the wall. You narrowed your eyes, pressing your gun to her abdomen. She delivered a harsh blow to your stomach, which despite your strength sent you keeling backwards. 

“I’ve got eyes.” She muttered something else into her comms, making an advance towards the room, but you grabbed her leg and pulled her to the ground. Her head hit the floor.

Scrabbling for your gun, you were up on your feet in seconds before another two pairs of footsteps reached the end of the corridor. This time, it was two men that rounded the corner. Bucky’s heart almost stopped in his chest when his eyes landed on you. He felt as though he was going to be sick. Mechanically, you readied yourself into a fighting stance. Racing towards you, they both advanced towards you. You ducked under the arm of the taller one before using the wall to propel yourself towards the other. The small hallway became a blue of bullets and limbs as the three of you fought. The movement of one of them was well placed. He seemed to know all of the counters to your moves. It was the red star on his silver arm that caught your attention. And that small distraction was all it took for the man to knock you down and plaster you to the floor. 

As you kicked, trying to get a good hit in on the man, he studied your face. It flashed with recognition. Your piercing eyes would never leave Bucky’s memories.

“Y/n?”

You flinched at the small mention of your name, but your programming was too strong. Shoot, kill, protect. Your fingers reached for your gun which he had knocked out of your hands. Your fingers inched along the floor, but then there was a firm grip on your wrist keeping it still. You squirmed.

Bucky tried again. He couldn’t quite believe that you were in front of him. Your face hadn’t changed much since the last time he saw you but you looked older, more tired. “Doll?”

You stiffened. The name cuts through your programming like a knife in butter. His face came flooding back to you, some memories good, some bad. He was there when you were at your lowest, you were there when he was at his. The two of you had been together through thick and thin, supporting each other through what little good and what masses of pain you had experienced. You furrowed his brow, scanning his face. His blue eyes were still the same, but he looked different. Kinder. Calmer. 

“Bucky?”

“Yes!” The super soldier nearly cried. “Yes doll. It’s me. It’s Bucky.”

He eased his touch a little as you melted against him. His touch became tender like you remembered it to be as he cupped your face with his non metal arm. 

There was a commotion behind you. The sound of bullets filled the air and your programing shifted to the front of your mind again. With Bucky’s loosened grip on you, you managed to wiggle out from under him and scramble towards the open door. The other man had managed to slip away and infiltrate the room where Zola had barred himself in. You raced in, your finger poised on the trigger. You raised it, aiming at the offender in the room. Though something was stopping you from pulling the trigger as you so normally would under the soldier programing. 

Zola frowned angrily. “Kill him.” He spat.

Your hand shook as your mind fought itself. One part of you screamed at you to just pull the trigger. The other, more sane part of you told you otherwise. 

A pair of hands wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you away from the scene. You tried to fight against them, but also enhanced by the serum, Bucky’s strength was on par with yours. 

“Get off of me.” You growled. 

His grip was firm as it moved to your shoulders.

“Hey, Hey calm down.” 

You tried to kick at him, but it was pointless. 

“You’re ok doll. It’s me.”

You stilled, relaxing in his arms again.

“I’m gonna get you out of here Doll. I promise.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY EIGHT ⛤ DAY TEN ->

🏷️ Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[sarahsmi13s]

When Sharks Attack

whumptober day 9: scar reveal

pairing: evan 'buck' buckley x reader

characters: evan buckley, fem!reader, the 118

warnings: blood, shark attacks, scar reveal, language, anxiety attack, let me know if i missed anything please

word count: ~1.3k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: when a call takes you to the scene of a shark attack you can't help but feel a sense of deja vu and reveal the one think you never thought you could

You sighed as you looked in the mirror, your fingers running over the arch shaped scar on your skin. It was old but it was as visible as ever. The scar rounded your hip before it disappeared under your waistband before it finished on the top half of your thigh. You were glad it was in a spot that could be hidden, but you also hated that you had to hide them.

It’s not that you were ashamed or anything, there was nothing to be ashamed of. But you didn’t want anyone to see the scars, they were jagged and ugly. You didn’t like people seeing them.

In the years since you obtained them, you had barely been intimate with anyone, not even your current partner, Buck.

You trusted him with your life, with everything. But in the past, people saw the marks on your torso and they ran. And you couldn’t lose Buck, you couldn’t.

You heard the bathroom door open and you dropped your shirt and started tucking it. 

“Hey, Cap has lunch ready,” Hen said as she poked her head in. You nodded and sent her a smile in the mirror, “Okay, thank you. I’ll be out in just a sec.” She smiled back and nodded, “Alright.”

She left, patting the door frame as she did, and you sighed a little before taking a deep breath and leaving the bathroom.

During lunch the bell went off. In the commotion all you caught was the location before you were getting in the truck and going toward the scene.

You had a pit in your stomach the whole ride to the beach and you didn’t know why. 

That was until you made it through the crowd of people on the dock and saw it.

A bull shark had gotten a hold of a fisherman and wouldn’t let go. 

The scent of copper and salt water filled your senses. Blood stained the dock and the man was shouting in pain as the beast refused to release him.

That pit in your stomach turned to bricks as you stopped moving. Your side began to burn and itch. You suddenly weren’t seeing the fisherman, but yourself on the dock next to your board and bleeding from your side.

You were 18 when it happened. You were surfing with some friends, padding into shore when a great white thought you looked like its next meal. The shark took a test bite out of your side and upper half of your thigh. It was a quick bite, but it was enough. 

Internal organs were damaged and you had nearly bled out on the beach but you were stabilized and taken to the hospital just in time. 

You survived, yes, but you haven’t gone back in the water since.

“Y/N? You okay?” Buck asked, turning to when he noticed you hadn’t moved.

With your heartbeat in your ears you hadn’t heard him and you all but shoved your gear in Bobby's chest and took off towards the engine.

They called after you but they quickly turned back to the emergency at hand.

You made it to the engine, leaning against it and ripping your button up open and untucking it and your undershirt.

Taking deep, grounding breaths, you rubbed and scratched at your side. 

Your scars always did this when you were stressed or when you got anxiety. Especially in the event of flashbacks or situations that triggered you.

Tears slipped down your cheeks and you wiped them away quickly with your free hand.

“Fuck, pull yourself together Y/N this is completely unprofessional,” you scolded as you tried to shake out the tension in your fingers. “You should be better than this. It's been 6 years.”

“Honey? Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” 

You gasped, startled as you felt Buck’s hands on you. You hadn’t heard him calling for you or running up to you. 

“Not-Nothing Buck, it’s okay. I’m okay.” You had dropped your shirt and looked up at Buck’s eyes to find them fixated on your side.

Shit. He saw.

“Buck..” 

“What happened?”

You sighed and grabbed his hand, pulling him to the cab of the engine and getting in. You closed the door and sat across from him. You rested your arms on your knees and played with your fingers. Now was the moment, and you were dreading it.

“The summer before I went to college… a few friends and I were surfing, on this beach actually,” you started not looking Buck in the eye. He mimicked your position and spoke softly to you, “I didn’t know you were a surfer.” You chuckled dryly, “I’m not… not anymore.” 

Buck just nodded, staying silent as you continued. “We were paddling into shore and all of a sudden I had this intense, hot pain in my side… A um, a great white had taken a test bite. I was brought into shore and I almost bled out in the sand.”

“But you didn’t,” Buck said, holding your hand in his. “You’re here, with us, with me.”  You nodded, sniffling a little. “I know that, I know. I just – it was terrifying…”

He nodded and kissed your hands. “I-I’m sorry I never told you sooner…” “Don’t apologize, honey. You don’t owe me anything,” he soothed, rubbing your knuckles.

You sniffle again and pull your hands away to wipe your eyes. “I should have been more professional, it was 6 years ago…” He shook his head, “Hey, you can’t control how situations make you feel, Y/N.” “I guess not…” 

Buck’s eyes flicked from your face to your side as he bit his lip. He knew it wasn’t his place, but he had to ask.

“Why did you never tell me?”

You sighed, “I was scared…” He furrowed his brow, “Scared? Scared of what?” You wrapped your arms around yourself, “They aren’t… pretty. And when people have seen them in the past…”

Buck’s heart broke. “You thought I would leave you…” You nodded, not looking at him. He tilted your chin up, “I don’t care about some scars, Y/N. They make you you.”

“You might not say that after you see them…” 

“Then show me…”

Your head whipped up to him, “Wh-what?” His face was nothing but serious, “Show me, Y/N.”

His blue eyes held nothing but genuineness and you nodded before standing.

Gulping, you lift up your shirt and look away from him as he sees the entirety of your scar. “If you want to end it-” He cut you off, “Don’t even finish that thought, I’m not going anywhere.”

He brings his hand up, his fingertips running over the marked skin delicately. 

“They’re beautiful…” 

You snorted, “I appreciate the lie Buck…” “I’m not lying. Do you know what scars mean?” You didn’t respond, looking down at your boots. “They mean you survived. That attack could have one or two outcomes. One of those outcomes includes me never getting the chance to meet you, and the other includes you and me in this truck having this conversation.”

He stood, “So, they’re beautiful because you are. Because you are alive.” 

You looked up at him as his finger hooked under your chin, “I love them because I love you. Nothing will ever change that.” 

You capture his lips in a kiss as tears still slip down your face. “Thank you, Buck… I love you too. But… I still don’t think I’m ready for sex, there’s just a lot I think I need to work through,” you told him honestly. He nodded and pecked your lips, “Whenever you're ready, I’ll be there. And I’ll be by your side until then.”

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, “Thank you Buck.” He kissed your head, “Any time Y/N.”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Whumptober 2023

No. 9 Polaroid | No. 27 “Let me see.”

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Alexandria/Sanctuary

Warnings: Self-harm, mentions of character death

You thought it would be a no-brainer that you’d accompany Daryl to run Sanctuary. The man had been tortured and humiliated within those walls by the very people he was meant to now help. Still, Rick had balked at the idea of losing your aid in Alexandria. Daryl had, of course, sided with the leader and encouraged you to remain behind. It was by his persuasion that you agreed for a time. 

That is, until a visit to the thrice cursed compound. 

You entered with Rick, hearing his praises being sung as per usual. When he stopped to converse with and reassure the people, you continued onward, in search of the only person that mattered to you. 

Daryl was not in his room. You let yourself linger for a few minutes though, sitting upon his bed— unmade, of course — and lifting his pillow to your face to inhale the scent he’d left behind. You’d be able to indulge in that later, though, so you lowered it to your lap and leaned forward to take in his lodgings. 

Things were tidier than you’d ever expect from the archer. Maybe someone would keep things cleaned up for him as you would do when he was home with you. He had a few things pinned on the wall: maps and plans and a single photo. Of you. It wasn’t the best by your standards. Glenn had taken it at the prison. Your hair was a mess. You had one eye pinched shut, having just woken up. Your hand was reaching toward the camera and there was a smile on your face. You remembered the moment well, though you didn’t know that photo had made its way to Daryl’s possession. Regardless, the fact that the archer had only that, his crossbow, and the clothes on his back from home made your heart swell. 

You replaced his pillow and made his bed before you stepped back into the hallway and pulled the door shut. Outside was the next option. There were a few men out there but no sign of your partner. 

“You seen Daryl?” You queried. They seemed friendly enough. Not former Saviors but workers, you surmised. 

“I saw him over toward the old cells a while ago.” An older gentleman answered. He offered you a kind smile that you saw no reason to not return before you entered the door across the way. 

The former cells were being converted into more rooms for the people that still resided in the compound. Today, though, it seemed no one was working on that project. The halls were dark aside from the tiniest bit of light filtering underneath one of the doors. 

“Daryl?” You kept your voice low, suddenly fearing what the shadows could hide. The compound had been cleared of the dead but in the days you were living, fear was almost always justified. 

You reached the door and stared at the space underneath. The light was unsteady, almost vibrating. So, a candle or a match, maybe. 

You tapped a knuckle against the metal door and waited, only to be met with silence. The hinges groaned when you opened the thing, the smell of cigarette smoke and…something else wafting into your face almost instantly. 

You wanted to be relieved that you had found Daryl, but the sight you were met with was anything but relieving. He was sitting against the wall of the cell that you knew without asking had been his. He had shown you before. His lighter was open and burning on the floor, a polaroid lying beside it. But distressing were the obvious tear tracks on his cheeks and the burning end of the cigarette he was pulling away from the top of his hand. 

It was with clear understanding that you moved slowly whilst he repeated the process, burning another deep circle just below his knuckles. He didn't even seem to notice you were there, even when you were sitting on your knees directly in front of him. His vacant gaze wasn’t on you or even on the wounds he was inflicting upon himself. It was settled solemnly on the photo beside the flame. You leaned to see what it was, and your stomach lurched violently. 

Glenn. It was a grizzly photo of Glenn after—

Daryl had told you about this photo, how they had used it to try and break him. How it had nearly worked. 

But…why did he have it? You were sure it had been destroyed. 

Unless—

You closed your eyes, allowing a single tear to cascade down your cheek and fall to the floor. This wasn’t about you. 

“Daryl?” You kept your voice calm and even, gently taking the cigarette from his grasp and putting it out on the concrete floor. His hand and wrist were a mess of circular burns but that could be dealt with later. “Hey, can you look at me?” 

His eyes lingered on the photo for a moment before sliding toward you, his head turning slowly. His gaze was still eerily blank. You took that moment to reach, without looking away from him, and flip over the picture. If you could coax him back to you, you didn’t want to risk him drifting away again by accidentally seeing it. 

“That’s it. Hi.” You cooed softly, caressing his face and brushing back his unruly hair. Recognition was slowly seeping into those gorgeous blue pools. You smiled gently when you felt his hand come to rest on your forearm. 

“Y/N?” His voice was quiet and rough. How long had he been in here? 

“I’m here.” You soothed, continuing to offer small, comforting touches while not invading his space. “Want to tell me where you were just now?” He stared at you for a moment before his carefully placed expression crumbled. Shit. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” You pulled him forward gently, his face in the crook of your neck before his shoulders began to shake with silent sobs. You shouldn’t have asked, not yet. Should have given him more time to fully gather himself in the present and out of this cage. 

So you held him in silence and let him cry, rubbing his back in slow circles. His uninjured hand had released your arm to grip at your open flannel, fingers flexing in the material. You weren’t sure how much time passed and didn’t really care, your full attention on providing grounding and comfort for the man in your arms. He eventually calmed enough to pull away, attempting to turn his head in order to hide the wetness below his eyes but your hand tenderly caught his jaw. You shushed him softly while using both thumbs to wipe away the moisture. 

“What can I do for you, baby?” It was a loaded question. You knew this was more guilt than he was capable of ridding himself of all at once. His talk with Maggie had been a start, but far from the end. Daryl carried things for years before eventually allowing himself to come to terms with the emotions that certain events left for him. Daryl and feelings had never been friends. 

He didn’t answer, not out loud. His eyes moved to the polaroid and remained there, managing to remain dry but no less haunted. Still, you understood. 

Your hand came to rest atop his, lifting it and placing it on the back of the picture. He pinched the edge between his thumb and index finger, and you did the same just beside his, not allowing him to flip it over. You helped guide him the small distance to the lighter, releasing the photo to clasp his wrist in a loose grip as the corner of the polaroid caught fire. Your eyes were on him as he watched the thing burn. For a moment, you thought you’d have to shake his wrist for him to release his hold but he dropped the photo mere seconds before the flames could reach his fingertips. 

Only a small pile of ashes remained when Daryl reached for the zippo and closed the lid, sending you both into complete darkness. Your hand was still on his wrist, holding the connection until he was ready to move. 

“Le’s go.” His voice was quiet and he pulled away from you but you could hear him getting to his feet. You had a split second to worry for him before you felt his fingers lace through your own. He guided you to the door and down the hall, the simple act leaving a bad taste in your mouth. How many times had he come here in the dark to navigate without an ounce of light?

The door opened and your eyes were assaulted with the afternoon sun, forcing you to shield them under your hand. With a squinted glance, you saw Daryl doing the same. You both seemed frozen to the spot while your eyes adjusted. It didn’t take long for people to approach, riddling the archer with questions and concerns of every caliber. He tensed almost violently beside you, his hold on your hand tightening. 

“Hey!” You stepped in front of Daryl and held your hands up placatingly. “I can promise you that Daryl is very adamant in hearing each of your questions and concerns. However, we are fortunate enough to have Rick Grimes in tow today! You’ll find him in the worker’s hall and can direct everything to him in Daryl’s stead today!”

The people seemed more than happy to adhere to your suggestion, shuffling off as one unit to find the former sheriff. You watched them leave and felt your bowman’s arms encircle your midsection. 

“Rick ain’t gon’ like tha’.” He warned from behind your shoulder. 

“Whatever. He loves me. He’ll get over it. Come on.” You took his uninjured hand and pulled him along toward his quarters. Luckily, you ran into no one else on your journey and let out a sigh of relief once the door closed behind you. You leaned against the cool surface and watched Daryl slowly sit down on his bed. 

“Ya already been in here.” It wasn’t a question but you gave a shrug anyway while toeing off your boots. 

“Couldn’t find you. Had to start somewhere.” Disappearing into the small attached bathroom, you grabbed a roll of gauze, a small bowl of cool water, a cloth, and stopped in the kitchen on your way back, hoping to find what you needed. Luck seemed to be on your side. Snatching the back of one of the dinette chairs, you dragged it along with you and placed it in front of Daryl. With your supplies at the ready on the bedside table, you presented your palm and wiggled your fingers expectantly. “Let me see.”

He held out his left hand without argument, wincing when he heard you hiss at the extent of what he had done. “S’not tha’ bad.” He whispered, feeling shame start to nibble away at him. 

“Hey.” You reached to hook a finger under his chin and guide his gaze toward yours. “Don’t do that. You were dealing with your pain. Alone. Maybe we can find some healthier outlets for you together but don’t beat yourself up about this.” The space between you closed for a moment, your lips pressing gingerly to his. “I was only reacting to how much they probably hurt.”

“Okay.” He still sounded doubtful but you could help him work through that a little at a time. 

You set about wetting the cloth and pressing it against the burns as gently as possible. His fingers twitched but he showed no other signs of discomfort. There were at least a dozen new burns but with something to compare it to, there were a few scars already littering the area. How could you have missed this? 

Once you were satisfied that they were clean and the skin cooled, you grabbed the half bottle of organic honey. It was definitely outdated but you had all learned to work with what you had. 

“S’that fer?”

“I am so glad you asked, Mr. Dixon!” You beamed while squeezing small amounts onto your fingertips. “Honey has natural antibacterial properties, as well as a level of hydrogen peroxide, low ph, and high viscosity.” You dabbed a little onto each irritated circle before grinning up at him. 

“Ya sound like a infomercial.” He gave a soft snort and if that was as close to a laugh as you got from him today, you’d take it. You wouldn’t dare let him catch you staring, but he looked truly awful. Dark circles were beginning to form underneath his eyes, and he had lost a little weight. Not much, but enough to be noticeable. He appeared to have aged a decade since the last time you had seen him. 

And that simply would not do. 

“Okay! All done! Oh, wait!!” You secured the gauze with a bit of tape and pulled his hand to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the bandage. “Can’t forget the most important treatment.”

“We kissin’ each other’s boo-boos now?” There was a hint of amusement to his tone that made it clear he didn’t mind. With another quick peck against his lips, you gathered up the mess and walked away. 

“Damn straight, we are. Things are just that serious between us, Dixon.”

On your way back into the room, you paused by the door and engaged the lock, flipping off the lights so that only the natural light from the small windows could filter in. 

“Whatcha doin’? Gotta get back out there—” 

Your finger pressed against his lips to effectively silence him. “Nope.” You snatched the radio from his belt and switched it on. “Get cozy. You’re not leaving for the rest of the day.” Before he could protest, you had pressed the call button on the radio. “Rick, it’s Y/N.”

“Y/N! I’ve been trying to reach Daryl. Have you seen him?”

“I have but he’s taking the night off.”

“Is he alright?”

You smiled softly at the archer from behind the device. “He will be. You got things under control, right, Grimes?”

“Could I talk to him for a second? There’s a situation with—”

You shut off the radio and placed it on the dinette. Daryl was watching you, looking a little nervous. 

“He really ain’t gon’ like tha’.” He drawled. 

“Tough shit. I thought I told you to get cozy?” You shrugged off your flannel, pulled your shirt over your head, and shucked off your jeans. Standing there in your bra and panties, you crossed your arms and cocked an eyebrow until he finally gave in with a tired roll of his eyes. 

Both stripped down to your underthings, you crawled under the blankets first and held them up for him. 

“Ain’t even dark yet.”

“Something tells me you need the extra rest. Now get in here and cuddle me like a man.”

“Yer somethin’ else.” He mused, following the order. You pulled at him until his head was on your chest and an arm draped over your middle. Once your fingers began to run through his long hair, you heard him sigh and felt the tension draining out of him. You couldn’t fix everything in a day but it was a start. Tomorrow, you’d talk to Carol about taking over there so Daryl could come home with you. Then you’d ensure Rick gave him some time off, even if it meant you had to toss the archer into the trunk of a car and steal him away to a remote cabin somewhere. 

“I sure am. You chose this. No refunds, buddy.” This was stone number one, and together, you’d build on it. 

[aprocessionofthoughts]

To succeed is to fail

whumptober2023 day 9- mistaken identity fandom- Danny phantom x Batman TW- nothing summary- The Amity Parkers have the opportunity (they didn't want) to explore Gotham. It's just too bad that Danny looks a lot like adoption bait.

First of all, I’d like to state that I know this is whumptober. But the story disagreed. So now we have whumpcracktober.

ao3 masterlist

They were not supposed to be here. They didn't want to be here. They hadn’t even tried to be here. Yet luck had never been on the Amity Parker’s side before, and they should have realized this would be no different.

It was their senior year and things around Amity had calmed down. Or at least everyone was used to Amity’s special brand of crazy.

He had told his parents about Phantom and they had helped hunt down the GIW. Most of Amity was discovered to be liminal and most of the young people had developed some basic abilities. 

And then Mrs. Abernagaby decided that their science final would be a group project. This wasn’t anything new. Every year Casper participated in the Helping Intelligent Minds Be Outstanding competition–better known as the HIMBO competition.

And usually the smartest seniors would be picked to work on a group project to submit. Casper High had never won. So, this year Mrs. Abrnagaby decided that all the seniors could work on it together. Because more heads were better than one!

Obviously she didn’t remember what being part of a group project felt like. And she obviously didn't account for the fact that no one would care.

They weren’t even told what the award was since it varied year to year and was meant to be a surprise.

All they were told was that they had to design a new air filtration system.

So, being seniors who had survived ghost attacks, invasions, their town being pulled into another dimension, dealing with the GIW, and making it through adjusting to Amity shifting to the stranger side as everyone's liminality began to show, they did not try.

Which was how they ended up with this masterpiece.

The challenge was to design a new air filtrator. Which if they had wanted to, would have been easy since air filters that would reduce the amount of ectoplasm in the air had been designed before the residents realized it was too late to do any good, and so they had never been made.

They didn’t even submit a design; it was a paper mache volcano covered in everyone’s failed tests. The accompanying research paper they were supposed to submit had Dash’s and Paulina’s self-insert fanfics with– you guessed it– phantom as the love interest. Danny had tried to make them remove it since it was awkward now that they knew who he was, but they had claimed they wrote it before they knew. Danny knew this was a lie because they were lying liars who lied. 

The paper also included one of Sam’s activist papers, Wes’s conspiracies about Bruce Wayne being Batman’s sugar daddy (now that everyone knew Danny was Phantom Wes didn’t feel the need to include that research (he also believed that Batman was Bruce Wayne but didn’t want to antagonize the furry who could ruin his life)). 

Tucker had included evidence of a Pentagon hack he had done a few years ago, Mikey had drawn some incredible fanart about Green Lantern (he said this would have the greatest effect on Gothamites and Wes agreed saying Batman didn’t like Green Lantern. How he knew this, no one asked.).

And lastly, they attached a file of them doing the Harlem Shake.

Mrs. Abernagaby hadn’t even looked at it before sending it off.

And then of course they had won. And what a grand prize it was! They won a trip to Gotham to explore the various big businesses, as well as a chance to apply at those locations for internships. Yeah… Sam had found out all the other schools had dropped out after finding out the prize. No one wanted to go to Gotham. But the school said it was a learning opportunity! To see what it was like outside Amity! To see what normal was supposed to be like!

So, they were forced to go, but at least they got Mr. Lancer as their supervisor and they wouldn’t even have to take a long bus ride because Amity was friends with Gotham. Apparently there weren’t very many Living Cities and the two liked to talk. They also thought it would be hilarious if the Amity Parkers went to Gotham. So, Amity had temporarily turned the road that left the city into a portal that led to Gotham’s border, and at the end of the week Gotham would return them.

And that was how he had ended up here. In the back of a smelly van with a smelly bag over his head surrounded by smelly men probably heading to a smelly, sketchy location. All because these men were stupid and thought he was some Wayne kid.

Sure, he could have gotten out. But this was honestly more interesting than touring another boring building and having to almost get mugged again.

..........

AN-I plan to continue this but it probably won’t be until after October because I want to focus on completing the challenges I'm participating in.

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 9: Polaroid (“you’re a liar”)

I purposely got off of tumblr and didn’t get sucked into lu update stuff too much because I knew that if I did I would never finish this XD But here’s today’s fic! I love writing Malon :)

Read on ao3

Warnings: kidnapping, some violence, and a broken bone

————————————————————

“I can’t find my pictobox!”

Time looked up at the complaint, and saw Wind digging through his bag and emptying it into a steadily increasing pile next to him. The others were packing up their gear to in preparation to move, and more than one exasperated face was thrown towards Wind’s mess.

“I wanted a picture of that cool island in the lake, but it’s gone!” Wind huffed as he leaned back, bag now empty. “Who took it?”

“Don’t look at me,” Wild said with his hands up, packing away his cooking supplies. “I don’t need it, I have my own camera.”

“I didn’t either!” Legend defended at Wind’s accusing finger, and the rest of them replied in the negative when Wind looked around at them all.

“We’ll help you look for it sailor,” Warriors said as he joined his side, and they began scouring the campsite.

Time glanced around where he was sitting, but there was no sign of the distinctive red and yellow device, and he shook his head, watching the others search. The camera had to be around here somewhere, Wind had been using it just the night before.

Hopefully it hadn’t been broken.

Time sighed, and prepared to get down on his knees to help search when the sound of footsteps made him look up. He wasn’t the only one who tensed towards his weapon, but it was merely the mailman, stepping through the reeds near their campsite, and they all relaxed.

“I have a letter, for a... Link,” he said with smile, holding it out. Time took it, as he was one of the only Links not crawling around in the rushes, and he smiled at the script.

He recognized Malon’s handwriting instantly, and felt something warm in his chest at the familiar loops. It hadn’t been too long since she’d sent him a letter, but he certainly wasn’t complaining.

“I also found this, does it belong to you?” the mailman asked, and Wind cheered as he saw the red and yellow device.

“My pictobox!” he yelled excitedly, and ran over and took it, studying it for any damage. “All right!”

“Thank you,” Time said politely, and the mailman gave him a surprisingly big grin.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

And then he was gone as unnaturally fast as always, Sky and Twilight both frozen in the act of getting up. They both sit back down with a grumble at their quarry lost (they both had questions about the mail service using unstable dark magic portals), and Time chuckled, grabbing a small knife to tease open the letter.

He had plenty of time to read it after all. Wind still needed to pack everything he owned back into his bag.

The sailor began cajoling Warriors to help him pack all his stuff together again, voice pleading, and Time finally got the seal off the letter, unfolding the paper with a smile.

Then felt his heart stop.

Surrender, and no further harm will come to her.

That was it. Nothing else.

Nine little words in scrawling, angry handwriting that was nothing like Malon’s, and they were enough to make Time feel like he’d been stabbed in the chest.

His heart finally started beating again, but it was going so fast it was like a panicked animal trapped in his chest, and his breathing began to pick up.

No further harm? What had her kidnapper already done to her? How had they known? Was she even—

“Old man? Are you okay?”

Twilight was looking at him in concern, and Time merely stared at him, still frozen in shock.

“Time, you’re as pale as a ghost, what did Malon say? Is she okay?” he repeated, and the rest of the Links looked at him in concern.

Time couldn’t get his mouth to work, and Legend sighed and moved around behind him so he could read the letter as well. He immediately paled, and looked between Time and the paper without saying anything for a moment.

“It’s not from Malon. Someone’s done something to her,” he said finally, and the clearing went dead silent. “It says to surrender, and... she won’t suffer any further harm.”

“Further?” Sky asked in a horrified voice, and they all looked at Time again.

He felt as if he was going to be sick.

“No, no way, it’s a trick. It has to be a trick,” Wild spoke up, voice fierce as he stood. “They’re lying Time, whoever it is has got to be lying, there’s no way Malon could...”

He trailed off, hands clenched into fists, and Twilight approached Time, his face white. He held out a hand, and Time handed him the letter with a grip that was definitely not shaking.

But another paper fluttered out between them as he handed it over, tucked into the envelope. Time snatched it up mere seconds before it touched the ground, and turned it over, staring at the picture in silence.

The mystery of where Wind’s pictobox had gone last night was immediately solved.

The photograph showed Malon in disarray, a look equally angry and frightened in her eyes where she was bound to a chair. Dark Link stood in the foreground, obviously holding the pictobox with one hand while he gestured to Malon with the other, a grin splitting his shadowed face.

There was a dark line of blood on Malon’s cheek.

Time’s numb shock snapped into a wave of pure fury, crashing over him as he stood up. He looked around at the other heroes, clenching the photograph so tightly it nearly ripped in his hands.

“We’re going. Now.”

(...)

Malon’s cheek hurt.

She let out a quiet sigh, the sound muffled by the cloth over her mouth. It was tied tight over her face, and it dug in painfully to the scratch the dark copy of her husband had given her. It stung rather badly, and was still bleeding a bit, and the blood soaking into the gag only made the whole situation that much more unpleasant.

Malon was proud of the reason she’d received the cut though, along with the sting in her knuckles and the handful of bruises she was sporting.

The Shadow of her husband had caught her by surprise, breaking into her house in the dead of night looking nearly identical to Link. Malon had only been fooled for a moment, and she’d done her best to fight him off and escape, managing a few solid punches before he’d overpowered her, and making his nose bleed all over her floor.

Then he’d tied her up, and gagged her when she kept demanding answers from him, bringing her through a shadowy portal like the ones her husband and the other boys had been traveling through.

She’d squirmed and fought and yelled at him the entire time, but he’d either ignored her, or given her a smile that made a shiver run down her spine. And then he’d taken her picture with a strange little device, and stalked away, leaving more then one monster stationed around the perimeter of the room, all watching her closely.

Their gazes made her skin prickle, and she dearly wished she could have a little privacy, or at least not be in the center of the room. She felt like some sort of garish display for people to gawk at, and the looks the monsters were giving her only made the feeling worse.

And truth be told, she was a bit frightened of what exactly Dark Link was planning on doing with her.

She breathed out, calming the panic that had been licking at her heels all night. She didn’t need to worry. Link would be along shortly, and nine heroes were nothing against a second-rate copy.

I hope.

A distant screech caught her attention, and she looked over at the doorway, the shadow of her husband also glancing in its direction. He waved some of the monsters through it, then moved around behind her somewhere where she couldn’t easily see him.

Having him so close but out of sight made her stomach twist.

A much closer shout rang through the doorway, and Malon felt her heart leap as a monster fell dead across the threshold, disappearing into dust. She knew that shout well.

Link entered the room seconds later with his sword already bloodied, the rest of the boys behind him looking equally tense and battle worn.

His gaze immediately sought her own, and a look equally relieved and furious shone in his eye. Malon would’ve tried to give him a reassuring smile, but her mouth was still gagged, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to dredge up a look that was truly comforting.

“That’s far enough.”

Something cold settled against her neck, and Malon breathed in sharply, a blood-red sword pressed to her skin.

The heroes all froze, staring at her with differing mixtures of fear and outrage on their faces. Dark Link stared at them all, watching to make sure none of them approached, then nodded, looking satisfied.

“Good. Now we can all have a nice, civil chat.”

“Not while you still threaten her,” Link said sharply, and Malon could hear how desperately he was holding back the emotion in his voice.

Oh fairy boy.

The other boys loudly agreed with him, and Dark Link looked around at them all, appearing entirely unbothered.

“I am dictating the terms here,” he replied smoothly, and looked at Malon with a smile that normally made her heart soar. “After all, I do seem to hold all of the cards.”

Malon fixed her husband’s shadow with the most intense glare she could manage, wishing her mouth was free to tell him just what she thought of him. He had the audacity to laugh at her though, and something almost possessive shone in his eyes as she glared. The sword at her neck eased just a little, and he leaned closer to her, practically nose-to-nose.

His breath even smelled like Link’s, and Malon froze, suddenly terrified of what he was going to do.

“I see why you married her, she’s got spirit, this one,” Dark Link purred, holding her chin in an almost terrifyingly gentle grip. His fingers felt like ice. “She’s quite the catch.”

“Release her,” Link nearly snarled, and surprisingly enough the Shadow obeyed, his fingers slipping off her face. The sword never left her neck though, and Malon forced herself not to shake as it teased her skin again.

“I made my demands abundantly clear, Hero of Time, and I think they’re quite reasonable,” Dark Link said, sliding his blade just enough to make pain trickle across Malon’s neck. “Surrender, and no further harm will come to her.”

“What proof do we have that you’ll stick with it?” Twilight interjected, his face just as dark as her Link’s.

“Yeah, we have no guarantee!” Wind shouted, and the others joined in, “why should we do anything you say?!”

Dark Link smiled.

“Because you have no choice.”

He abruptly twisted around and grabbed Malon’s arm, the ropes at her wrists cut off with his sword. Before she could even register what was happening, he twisted to the side, and a horrible crack echoed through the room.

Malon couldn’t hold back her scream.

Pain burst up her arm and shoulder, white sparking in her vision, and there was a sudden rush of noise from where the Heroes were standing, shouts and cries of outrage, and questions of if she was okay.

But Malon couldn’t focus on anything at the moment, just the pain blazing up her arm. She knew immediately something was broken, possibly in more then one place, but before she could even try to ease the pain or calm herself down, something twisted her arm around and it got even worse.

She couldn’t stop herself from crying out again as Dark Link replaced the ropes around her wrists, roughly pulling her arms behind her back. Tears trickled out of her eyes and dampened the gag, and every breath was more painful then the last.

The sound of a weapon clattering to the ground pulled her out of the worst of the pain clouding her mind, and she looked up, meeting Link’s eyes through her tears.

“I surrender!” he shouted, staring at her in horror. His sword was on the ground, and he raised his hands up, turning a glare on Dark Link that was filled with such hatred Malon was surprised he didn’t burn up on the spot.

“I surrender. Let her go.”

“I’m glad we came to an understanding,” Dark Link smiled, ignoring the glare, “very noble of you. But I didn’t mean just you, Hero of Time. I want all of your complete surrenders in exchange for her safety.”

Link’s eyes flashed, but he looked behind him at where the others stood, watching him hesitantly. A few moments of silence went by, and Malon felt a hand curl its fingers around her unbroken arm.

“Do I need to make myself more clear?”

“No,” Sky replied quickly, and the other heroes dropped their weapons, looking just as angry and worried as Malon’s own Link did.

Dark Link removed his hand from her shoulder, and Malon couldn’t stifle a shudder, her heart sinking as she watched the last of the heroes place their weapons on the floor. Boys no, don’t let him use me against you!

“Good... now we’re getting somewhere,” Dark Link grinned, looking pleased as pudding. “I want your bags on the floor too, and any magical items you might be wearing. All nine of you will soon—”

He stopped suddenly, red eyes narrowing as they trailed along the heroes.

“We seem to be missing someone,” Dark Link said in a low voice, and the heroes went still. “Where is the First of the Downfall? The one you call Hero of Legend?”

The room went silent, apart from an unsteady breath from Malon.

Then there was a quiet swish of a cape, and the Hero of Legend suddenly appeared out of nothing, charging at Dark Link with his sword high and eyes blazing with torchlight.

He threw himself at the shadow, and Dark Link was forced to hold his sword up to defend himself, removing it from Malon’s neck. The room erupted into chaos as their blades clashed, and the heroes quickly grabbed their weapons. They leapt forward, the monsters around the perimeter running to stop them, and screeches and yelling echoed all over the room.

And Malon couldn’t do anything but watch it happen, her arm still burning white hot with pain.

She watched Legend narrowly dodge a strike that would have killed him, and looked down at herself, shoulder aching as she tilted her head. Wriggling loose of her ropes wasn’t even a possibility now that she had an opportunity to, her arm entirely uncooperative, and frustration broke through her pain.

Malon looked down at her arm, nausea twisting in her stomach at the angle it was at.

I have to try.

She experimentally wiggled her good arm, trying to see if she could at least loosen the ropes. But pain ripped through the broken one with even that tiny movement, and she gasped, closing her eyes as she fought back more tears of pain.

Okay. Okay, wait a bit, then try again.

You have to get out of here.

As if summoned by her thoughts, something suddenly pulled at the ropes on her feet, and Malon dizzily looked down, trying to focus on who was helping her. All she could make out was blond hair though, bent over her ankles. A different set of hands was at her back, pulling off her gag and ever-so-gently removing the ropes at her wrists.

Her breath hitched with pain when the hands accidentally nudged her arm, and there was an apology in her ear, then a rustle as the ropes fell to the ground.

A hand very carefully shifted her arm to a better position, and Malon squeezed her eyes shut, trying not shout at the pain. But once it was let go, Malon could actually focus a little better now that the ropes weren’t twisting it around. It still hurt, rather badly, but not quite to the extent it had.

She looked up at who had freed her, and saw Twilight standing next to Four and Sky, the two keeping a sharp eye on the fight around them while Twilight looked her over with no small alarm.

“Malon, are you okay?” he asked, the worry on his face only growing as he studied her arm. “...never mind, that’s a stupid question. How bad is your arm?”

“It’ll be okay,” she replied, voice mostly not shaking, and squeezed Twilight’s hand with her good one. “Thank you, hon.”

Twilight helped her up, ears pricked for any monsters that might approach, and Malon rubbed at her cheeks, sore from how tight the gag had been. Her stomach twisted when she felt something move in her arm, and she held a little tighter to Twilight’s arm as the pain spiked.

“I’m sorry, I’d offer you a potion, but we’ll have to set your arm first,” Twilight apologized, looking a little frantic as she forced herself to keep her breathing steady through the pain. Easy does it Malon. “And that’ll have to wait until we’re somewhere safe.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and Twilight began to lead her away from the worst of the fighting.

Four stayed nearby, giving her an encouraging look before returning his gaze to the fight around them. Sky stayed a bit further away, but he didn’t go far, and they both acted as a sort of guard as Twilight led her across the room. Her world narrowed to mostly Twilight’s arm supporting her as they walked, and the pain that only seemed to get worse in her arm.

She couldn’t entirely bite back a gasp when it abruptly spiked, and swallowed back her nausea as Twilight gently squeezed her hand.

They’d stopped walking at some point, she wasn’t sure when. She was afraid to raise her head and check if they’d left the room or not, worried the nausea she felt in the back of her throat would win and she’d end up making even more of a mess of herself. Talking was going on around her, possibly directed at her, but she couldn’t focus on any of it, just the pain that wouldn’t go away in her arm.

Then a voice cut through the fog she’d been drifting through, sharp and frantic.

“Malon!”

She raised her head, and suddenly Link was holding her, pressing her into his arms, murmuring frantic apologies and assurances as she buried her head in his shoulder and allowed herself a couple more tears.

Relief swept through Malon as Link held her, carefully not touching her arm, running trembling fingers through her hair. She could hear his heart thumping rapidly where her ear was pressed to his neck, and she merely listened to it for a moment as he held her, warm and safe.

Link finally pulled back enough to properly look at her face, and his thumb gently caressed her cheek, right next to the cut Dark Link had given her.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyes still shining with fear.

“I think I should be asking you that,” she said with a teasing smile, but her voice shook, and Link’s face creased further. He carefully ran a hand over her arm and shoulder, Malon flinching at the pain that shot up her arm at his touch, and he winced and apologized.

Someone said something over his shoulder, and Link looked back and replied, though Malon didn’t catch everything that was said.

“...Is Legend okay?” she asked suddenly, remembering how he’d leapt at the Shadow.

“He’s fine. Dark Link got away, but he’ll think twice before coming after you again,” Twilight said with a smile, and Malon blinked. She hadn’t realized he was still nearby.

“I gave him something to remember me by, that’s for sure,” Legend’s voice said from somewhere nearby. His tone was satisfied, but it held something dangerous in it.

Link’s arms went around her more tightly again, and Malon looked up at him, a storm of all sorts of emotions on his face. He caught her looking, and gave her a slightly brittle smile.

“I’m okay,” she reassured gently, and he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I’ve done that to you enough to know you’re absolutely not telling the truth,” he replied, but his smile was a little more genuine then before. “We’ll get you healed as soon as we’re able, Malon.”

Malon nodded, and ignored how her arm still hurt like it was being trampled on, and how her stomach still twisted with nausea, merely setting her chin on Link’s shoulder again.

“Thank you fairy boy,” she said softly, and Link held her as tight as he could without hurting her arm. “I wish I could have stopped him.”

Link let out a trembling sigh.

“I’m just relieved you’re okay.”

[adrift-in-thyme]

Whumptober Day 9: Mistaken Identity

Read on Ao3

- Legend & Hyrule

- Summary: Legend is mistaken for Hyrule

CW for drugging, blood and injury (specifically to a character's neck), a character nearly suffocating, and a very near-death experience

---------------------

The world is in flashes of light and color and sound. Muffled yells, orders he doesn’t understand – they collide, pounding against Legend’s aching skull.

Rough hands yank him into a standing position (he hadn’t even realized he had been lying prone on the hard ground). He stumbles, cursing.

What in Hylia’s name had happened to him?

He remembers bits and pieces. Flitting images, parts of memories that he can just barely snatch. He was walking through a dungeon, he thinks, and somehow had been separated from the others. And then he had come upon a chest and opened it…

Everything after that is hazy. Far hazier than the other memories are.

His befuddlement is infuriating. He’s the veteran of hero business. He knows everything but everything. Yet he can’t even recall how he ended up where he is. And he certainly can’t collect his thoughts enough to figure out an escape.

Ropes find their way around his wrists and ankles now. A gag pulls tight between his lips. He wavers and bumps against one of his captors’ hips. They shove at him, blurry faces leering.

“Take him outside!” One of them shouts. The sound reverberates through Legend’s head and he cringes.

By the golden three can they not be a little quieter?

Suddenly, the ground tilts, dipping as he rises without moving a muscle. In the next moment, he finds himself slung over someone’s shoulder like a bag of grain.

His sluggish mind struggles to comprehend. Dimly, he realizes he should fight back. Clumsily, weakly he tries. But his body is as uncooperative as his mind. Whatever runs through his veins is too potent to be pushed aside by anger and fear.

His captors laugh at him, the sound grating and infuriating. It brings to mind Agahnim’s patronizing cackles as he had shot beams of magic at his face.

“Don’t worry you boy,” someone sneers in his ear. “It’ll all be over soon. So unfortunate for you, though, that you won’t get to see him.”

More laughter. Legend shuts his eyes, willing the world to stop moving, stop tilting. 

“Indeed, and yet, it will be your blood that resurrects him. Intriguing isn’t it? That a hero possesses the power to resurrect Gandondorf.” 

Legend’s eyes fly back open, his blood running icy cold. 

What on earth…

He has heard tales along his journey with the other heroes, tales of a boy with blood that can bring back a great evil. But he had never heard enough to decide whether or not to believe it. And he certainly knows that boy is not him. 

A chill hits him as they leave the darkness of the building. If he squints he can make out the sky, lit by twilight’s glorious glow. It reflects upon the sand and cliff sides in shades of shell pink.

But he hardly sees it. Panic has surged through the haze now and he struggles, still feeble, still uncoordinated, yet more desperate than ever.

His blood is incapable of resurrecting that evil man. If it were, he would know. These people, however, obviously didn’t get the memo. And in order to try and achieve their dastardly goal, they undoubtedly will need to extract quite a bit of blood. Possibly, enough to kill him.

Legend would really rather remain alive.

His thrashing is as fruitless as before, though. All it earns him is a few grunts of pain from his captor, and a very unpleasant plunge down into the sand. He hits it with a muffled groan.

But seconds later he’s up again. Hands fist in his hair, dragging him into a standing position. Cool metal presses against his neck.

“You know the spell, don’t you?” Someone hisses. “Well, get on with it.”

A small group of the masked men band together a few steps away from him, muttering in a language Legend has never heard before. With every word their voices grow louder. With every word his heart beats faster. 

Whatever drug they had given him is slowly draining away and as it leaves, utter terror replaces it. He dares not fight now, however, not with the sickle that is biting at his throat. It will strike soon anyway, but some innate instinct forces him to prolong the seconds in which he isn’t choking on his own blood.

Every moment counts, he guesses, especially when you know they���ll be your last. Too bad he’ll spend them restrained by coarse ropes, a stranger’s grip, and the substance still clouding his mind; trembling from pain and cold and a nauseating mix of terror and fury. 

It has been a long time since he felt quite this helpless.

The chants grow steadily louder and take on an eeriness that sends shivers running laps down his back. And then one of the men raises his voice into a shout. Before Legend has a moment to prepare, his captor brings the sickle across his neck.

A stinging burn encases the spot. Blood floods his throat. Eyes blown wide with panic, Legend struggles, trying to drag in a breath through the metallic liquid he is suddenly drowning in. It’s as though he is on the sea once more, buffeted by wind and rain, choking on salty water. 

He can see it through blurred eyes, cascading down his chest in gory rivulets of red.

It’s going to stain my tunic, he thinks, dazedly. It’s a shame. I liked this one. 

Fingers brush roughly over the gash, gathering more blood. Cackles of sadistic glee ring in his ears. The chants continue their ominous rhythm as the world begins to go a dismal gray. 

Everything seems to swirl around him, mad and out of control. Faster and faster it goes as his panic builds, making him dizzy.

Then, abruptly, it stops.

“It didn’t work!” Someone shouts, voice echoing in the sudden stillness.

If he wasn’t actively bleeding out, Legend would laugh in their faces. But his grasp on anything resembling consciousness is slipping fast, his strangled breaths growing shallower, and distantly, dully, he knows it’s coming. It’s a wonder he has held on for this long.

Yet still he gasps like a fish on land, still he fights to keep his eyes open and the darkness at bay. 

He has to get back to his brothers and Zelda and Ravio. He won’t leave them, he won’t, he can’t…. 

“Maybe we need more blood!”

His back hits the sand. Legend writhes, trying to breathe past the cloth sticking to his lips, the iron flooding his lungs. Each breath gurgles, bringing in nothing but more liquid. The ground tilts dizzyingly. 

Then, pain rips through him anew as they carve a gash into his arm. A silent scream rises in his heaving chest and never comes out. Blood runs hot and thick, soaking his clothing, turning the sand red. It’s everywhere. He inhales it, tastes it, smells it. 

Light and darkness dance before him, a kaleidoscope of rainbow hues. 

My son, his uncle says and his kind voice is like a balm, soothing endless pain. It is time to go home. 

It is time to fly away, Link, Marin sings. And be free as I am. 

Legend tries once more to breathe. He fails.

“No!” 

Hands enclose his wrist. Magic jolts through him like an electric current, zipping through his body. It sears into his neck, red-hot with fury and determination.

Hyrule.

“Don’t give up, you can’t— ”

Another surge of power. The darkness begins to slip away and Uncle and Marin fade with it. Legend chokes on a sob, reaching out. 

Don’t leave me again.

“But it is time,” his uncle says again. “It is time to go home.”

Marin smiles, sweet and agonizing. “Go and be free.”

Be free. Be home.

“Come on, vet. Don’t leave me!”

Another hand reaches to him out of the darkness. As tears stream down his face and pain tears through him, Legend turns around, reaches out, and grasps it.

Light penetrates his vision. Faces float into his line of sight, some tear-streamed and pale, all worried. The faces of his brothers. 

Hyrule hovers inches from him, hands warm and real in his, fire and terror swirling in his irises, lips set in a thin line of determination. But when Legend’s eyes find his, his expression morphs into a tearful grin.

“Ledge?”

Legend’s lips lift in a small smile of his own. “H-hey ‘rule.”

The words are torture on his abused throat and the salt water draining down isn’t helping matters either. But then, Hyrule pulls him into a hug and nothing else matters.

The others join in seconds later. They’re all gentle, all cognizant of his still-fresh wounds, and their arms envelope him like a blanket.

Any other time this would be off limits entirely. At least, not without a big to-do about elbows in his stomach and breath in his face. But now, Legend doesn’t care. 

Pretenses and reputation be damned. He wants his brothers here, surrounding him, keeping him safe.

So, he buries his face in Hyrule’s shoulder. And he breathes.

[whumpetywhump]

Whumptober Day 9 (Alt) - Panic

A Business Proposal - Ep. 6

King Of Pigs - Ep. 3

Penthouse: War In Life - Ep. 16

See You In My 19th Life - Ep. 3

The Golden Spoon - Ep. 4

[serickswrites]

These Days

Warnings: kidnapping, restraints, blindfold

Caretaker had collapsed at their desk, exhausted from the countless hours spent looking for Whumpee. They would not rest until Whumpee was found. Could not rest.

Because Whumper kidnapping Whumpee had been all their fault. And they couldn't live with themself if something happened to Whumpee.

Caretaker was almost too exhausted to move. Their eyes burned with each blink. Their body ached with each movement. They needed to sleep, but couldn't stomach the idea of laying still and doing nothing in the hunt for Whumpee.

But they could sit for a few moments at their desk and go through their mail. That they could do.

Caretaker put a couple of bills aside as a "later" problem. They shredded the junk mail. All that left was a small envelope. Nothing remarkable about it other than their was no return address.

Caretaker's mouth went dry as they opened the letter and several polaroid pictures tumbled out. "Whumpee," they whispered as they stared down at the pictures in their hands.

Whumpee was blindfolded and tied to a chair in each photo, their face pinched with fear. A knife flashed closer and closer to Whumpee's throat as the photos progressed. The last one, a photo with a knife pressed flush against Whumpee's throat though no blood had been drawn, had writing on the back.

"Tick tock, Caretaker. How long do you think it will take for them to bleed out? How long will you mourn them? Come find us and we can find out together."

Caretaker jumped up at Whumper's words. They didn't have time to sit here. They had to find Whumpee. Had to stop Whumper. There was no time to lose.

[thethistlegirl]

I genuinely thought at least one of Mav's photos of Goose was a polaroid, but I went ahead and did the edit anyway in the spirit of the prompt for today...

@nade2308 @whumptober

"Photograph" by Nickelback

[sarahsmi13s]

Bloodstained Sandbags

whumptober day 1 : bloody knuckles

pairing: eddie diaz x reader

characters: eddie diaz, fem!reader, christopher diaz, evan buckley, scott (oc)

warnings: 18+ MDNI, nightmares, panic attacks, crying, blood, disassociation, SA (not in vivid detail, but it is spoken about), language, caretaking, PTSD, resetting a dislocated shoulder, talks of therapy, mentions of underground fighting, please tell me if i missed any

word count: ~5.6k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace

also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: healing is draining and you're trying everything you can to stay afloat... can a new workout routine help keep you above water as you support eddie through his trauma while you work through your own?

You really thought that when Eddie started working at the dispatch center, things were going to get better for you. You thought you would sleep better, your nightmares fading away as you always had your protector next to you now. You were safe, no one could hurt you with Eddie at your side.

But it didn’t seem to matter, because you couldn’t close your eyes without being back in that damn break room – the break room you no longer set foot in.

It was like even though you knew you were safe with Eddie… a sick, twisted part of you kept reminding you that Eddie wouldn’t always be there to protect you.

And the thing was, Eddie had no idea. 

No idea that you were struggling. That for months you were feeling sick to your stomach everytime you got up to get ready for work. That you wanted his touch but had a mini panic attack every time he touched you when you weren’t expecting it.

But he had no idea what happened to you either. You were afraid to tell him. Afraid he’d leave you, though logically you knew he would never do that. 

Except there wasn’t a good time to tell him, either. He was having a hard time with his PTSD and you were doing the best you could to help him while also trying to keep yourself above water.

Which is why you started going to the gym… The sweating, the adrenaline, all of it just made you feel stronger.

And that’s where you picked up on learning to fight, you wanted to be ready. Ready to protect yourself or Christopher if the situation presented itself and Eddie wasn’t around.

You sighed as you walked into yours and Eddie’s apartment, your body stiff and sore from your workout. You managed to scrape your knuckles just a little bit too but it wasn’t too noticeable.

You hung your purse up and set your gym bag down. “Eddie? Chris?”

You heard Eddie’s voice come from the kitchen. “We’re in here, Honey!” 

You smiled and walked into the kitchen, seeing them at the table. “How are my boys?” You went over and kissed them both on the head, “I’m sorry if I made you wait, I got really in the zone at the gym and the traffic was a monster.” 

“Oh it’s no problem, I was just getting started on the veggies. Why don’t you go shower and it should be ready by the time you're done,” Eddie said as he stood and kissed the side of your head before returning to cutting the vegetables. 

You nodded at him before ruffling Chris’s hair, “Do you have any homework you need help with?” He nodded, “Yeah, math stuff.” “Alrighty, I’ll help you after dinner, okay?” “Okay.”

Smiling, you kissed his head again before going to take a shower.

Once you went into the bathroom, you were all too ready to peel the sweaty gym clothes off of you.

Your leggings peeled off with a wet sound, and if someone heard it they would have thought that you jumped into the ocean with your clothes on. The collar of your cutout t-shirt was soaked enough that you could ring it out. Your sports bra was practically the same way.

“I went way harder than I thought…” you mumbled to yourself as you dropped your clothes into a pile and checked the temperature of your shower.

Scalding hot, just like you liked it.

You stepped under the water, wincing slightly at the initial bite of the heat on your skin. But as you stood there under the water both the heat and pressure seemed to massage your muscles, allowing you to relax.

The shower was the only way you could get a massage, it was the only place you allowed yourself to feel vulnerable.

And you never went to a masseuse at all because Eddie was enough. But now, after everything that happened, the idea of being pinned under someone with your back exposed and their hands on you like that could send you into a panic attack.

He had tried once after he started his therapy sessions, realizing he had been neglecting you and wanted to help you work out the soreness of your muscles. 

But you were fighting a panic attack the whole time. You had to hold a conversation with him and ask him to not put his full weight on you. He cooperated without question of course and then you sat and chatted about your day.

Though you haven’t let him do it since, fearing that you would be able to hold it together and freak out on him.

Showers were your source of muscle relaxation. So that’s why you stood there, water pressure on pulse and heat turned up to hell.

When you felt satisfied, you turned the temperature down and finished your shower, ending with a cold rinse just to soothe your skin before getting out and getting dressed in a pair of shorts and one of Eddie’s shirts then joining the boys for dinner.

Eddie watched you wash dishes with a smile on his face as he leaned against the fridge.

He had cleaned out the sink, putting plates, bowls, utensils, and cups into the dishwasher while you were helping Chris with homework. But now you were working on pots and pans because they just didn’t fit in the dishwasher with the other things, often needing to be washed separately – and that took too long for your liking.

So after getting Chris settled down in his room, Eddie came back to watch you, wanting to spend alone time with you since you rarely got that lately. 

Not that he was necessarily mad about it, he respected boundaries when and where you set them – no questions asked.

But he was pulled to action when he heard you wince, taking a step and a half to meet you as you turned for a towel.

“What happened?” Eddie asked, holding your hand as you dabbed it dry, wincing as you did so.

You shook your head, not answering him as you took the towel away to blow on the raw skin of your busted knuckles. You had gotten lemon juice and salt on them from cleaning the cutting board you had used this morning, and it hurt like a bitch.

Eddie froze for a second. Where had you gotten bruised and scraped up knuckles from? You hadn’t had those this morning…

In a quick scan, he checked you over for injuries. If you had a bruised cheekbone or black-eye that he somehow missed during dinner. But you were clean, so he could cross fight off the list. 

“Nena… what happened?” 

His voice was gentle as he took the towel away from you and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. He was worried, because last time he started coming home with busted knuckles he was underground fighting…

But you wouldn’t do that? Would you?

“I was at the gym and I scraped it, not a big deal.”

He nodded and rubbed his thumb gently over it. “Let me finish the dishes.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. Eddie was going to finish the dishes, and he wasn’t going to argue.

You sighed and moved out of the way, letting him take over but you didn’t leave and instead wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his back. After your day at work and then going so hard at the gym, you need this comfort. The domesticity of it all, the safety of it all.

Over the next few weeks things seemed to be getting a little better. Sure, you were still having nightmares and coming home with slightly bruised knuckles but Eddie’s surprise touches didn’t spook you anymore. You were also considering becoming more intimate with Eddie again as he seemed to be doing better as well and was seeking out the contact again. 

Things were just slowly coming back to normal, well as normal as the could be, but things were getting better

But then something happened at work, and it set all of your progress back.

You were walking to your desk from the supply closet with more file folders, since you were doing some re-organizing and needed new ones, when you bumped into someone.

They caught you before you fell, steadying you with their hands on your waist. Huffing out a surprised laugh, you looked up to thank them but you nearly choked on air when you saw whose hands were on you.

Panic shot through you like lightning and you put distance between you and Scott immediately, not caring if it was rude or not.

“Woah, Y/N, you okay?” He asked, but the smirk pulling at the corner of his lips told you that he knew the answer. 

How could you be okay? After not seeing him that up close for months, then all of a sudden his hands are on you again and you’re back to being the weak little girl you were in the break room that night.

“S-S-Scott, I-I thought you were um late shift?” You stuttered, your eyes looking for escapes to your desk in your periphery. 

He put a hand in his pocket nonchalantly, attempting to lure you into a false sense of security, that that side of his body was safe to escape through – it wasn’t.

“Oh, I am, but I decided to come in on a Saturday. I needed another day on my paycheck since I took a day off this week.” 

You nodded, jaw setting and grinding your back teeth together as you tried to avoid looking at his face. “I see. Well Scott, if you’ll excuse me I need to get… get back to my desk.” You cursed yourself for starting so confident but then losing it as the breath just slowly got pulled from your lungs.

Scott just smirked. He could see the fear in your eyes and the cottonmouth you were getting just being in his presence. He thrived on it, knowing that corporate wasn’t going to follow up on the claim you made to HR and that you weren’t in a great position to quit so you had to stay for just a little longer.

But he just caught you one unlucky night where you had to stay late to finish a project, considering you didn’t work the night hours because you usually needed to be home with Chris because Eddie was working a shift. The one time Buck was off you took advantage of it and stayed late to catch up. 

And you haven’t stayed late since…

“Oh, by all means, don’t let me stop you, I was just on my way to get some coffee.”

You were trying so hard not to clam up and just bolt to your desk and pack up. But you calmly nodded and just squatted down to pick up the folders you dropped.

You hated having your back to him and your hands shook furiously as you collected the pale yellow folders.

“You look like you could use a break, why don’t you join me?” Scott’s voice was right in your ear. It was low and raspy as his hand gripped your shoulder.

Trying your best to just shrug it off, you shook your head. “No, I’m alright. I need to get back to work.”

He clicked his tongue and shook his head, “I insist.” His voice was demanding as his fingers curled around your joint and dug into your collarbone. 

Instantly your arm shot up and pushed him off you. “I said no.”

You scooped up the remaining folders and dignity and went toward your desk. Just to have fingers curled around your wrist and pulling you back into a hard chest. 

“I’m trying to be nice and you’re being a bitch.”

Rolling your lips between your teeth, you tried to yank your wrist away – twisting and pulling at his grip to get him to let go. “You just don’t know how to understand the word ‘no’. I don’t want coffee, I just want to go to my desk.”

You swallowed, finally looking in his eyes, shredding any last dignity you had. “Please Scott… you got what you wanted, just leave me alone… please…”

The canines he bared as he smiled wide made you sick to your stomach, but as he opened his mouth to speak his attention was pulled away and you took that chance to free yourself. You twisted your wrist and pushed the files into his chest before booking it to your desk.

After gathering your things and rushing to your manager’s office, pleading to her with shaky hands as you told her something had happened and you needed to get home to Chris.

She immediately let you leave, not questioning it as you thanked her and ran out to your car.

The drive home was a total blur, taking the turns on auto pilot as you tried not to break down before you were in the safety of your own home and not risking anyone else’s safety.

And when you finally got home, you were booking it to the fridge to get a cold water bottle to maybe shock your system into calming down. But in your haste you missed the fact that Buck and Chris are home, and not out at the aquarium like you thought they were.

Buck had heard you come in and watched you nearly trip over yourself to get to the kitchen, abandoning your purse and keys on the floor.

Chris had seen it too and looked at Buck concerned, having never once seen you like this. “Buck?” Buck ruffled Chris’s hair, “I’ll go see what’s up. You stay here okay?” Chris just nodded and watched Buck get up and go to the kitchen.

Buck went to the kitchen, finding you chugging the cold water as you white knuckled the counter.

“Y/N? You’re home early.”

The way you jumped, hand clenching around the bottle so hard that water shot out of it – it would have been comical had the dilated look in your wide eyes not set off alarm bells in Buck’s head. 

You watched, caught like a deer in headlights, as concern washed over Buck’s face and filled his eyes with pity. Immediately your back was turned to him, shielding your breaking resolve from his helping hand. 

With the blood pounding in your ears, you missed his approach until he was touching you. You jerked again under his touch, weakly muttering out, “P-please don’t touch me.” 

Buck’s heart sank. He had never heard you sound like this before… so broken…

It sent him back to the night Eddie had destroyed your room in a fit of helplessness, how terrified his best friend was. How you sat with Eddie, him now remembering your bruised knuckles encasing Eddie’s in an act of comfort.

“Y/N… what happened? What’s wrong?”

“No-nothing, just-just…”

He tried to turn you and get you to face him, to get a read on your face and figure out what to do. But you yelped and pushed him back, sending his stunned 6’2” frame into the table.

“Buck you need to leave…”

“Y/N-”

“Leave Evan!”

Buck swallowed, trying not to be hurt as he turned on his heel and went to say goodbye to Christopher.

You watched him leave the kitchen, your ears hot and tingling as you looked at the mess you made. You needed to clean it up before Chris came in here and slipped.

Hearing Buck close the front door, you carefully made your way to the laundry room to get a dirty bath towel to clean it up. Your vision tunneled, your ears rang and you felt that sick snag in your chest as the air was stopping half way down your throat.

By the time you get there your legs can barely hold you up as you get to the washer and sink down to the floor. Sobs are wracking your chest and you can only pray Chris can’t hear you.

But your prayers went unanswered, because Chris can hear you and he is scared. 

Your broken sobs and ragged breathing are reminding him of the night Eddie punched those holes in the wall… and the night you came home and took a long shower thinking Chris was asleep and couldn’t hear you crying through the wall.

Chris abandoned the video game in front of him and put himself on a mission to find you. He could follow the sound of your cries to where you were sitting on the cold floor, head between your knees as you tried to breathe regularly.

“Y/N?” He gently called out, hoping you could hear him.

He watched you thread your hands in your hair and pull at the roots, sucking in jagged breaths just for them to be forced out with the next sob.

He didn’t like seeing you like this and he hated that he wasn’t sure how to help. But he knew he had to try.

Chris called out your name again as he approached you, not wanting to scare you and send you further into your panic. You must have recognized his voice because you seemed to calm down just a bit. He sat down on the floor next to you and put his hands on yours on top of your head. 

“You’re safe, it’s okay, Y/N. I’m here.” He recalled the phrases you had repeated to him when he was having trouble after the tsunami. He had to pull from what he was shown, he had barely anything to go off of and he just had to hope that it was enough.

With Chris putting his hands on yours, talking to you gently, you could feel yourself slowly calming down. His hands were so drastically different from the ones that had bruised your skin, that it managed to remind you that you were home and that you were safe.

“Please, Y/N…”

You look up at him slowly, your hands letting go of your hair and holding his hands. “It’s okay, you’re safe.” Chris moved your hands to his face, hoping that it can help to ground you.

Your thumbs immediately began to rub back and forth on his cheeks, him taking deep breaths to help you find a rhythm. “Follow me, Y/N. Just like you tell me…” 

Chris watched the fog clear from your eyes as you began to calm down and lean forward to press a kiss to his head as a thank you before resting your forehead on his. He wrapped his arms around you as best he could and you pulled him into your lap, your head falling to his shoulder.

You sat there for a bit in silence, rubbing Chris’s back as you managed to collect yourself.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, Chris. I didn’t mean to,” you apologized, breaking the silence. “Are you okay?” His voice was soft and gentle as he pulled back a little. You’re nodding immediately, “I’m better now, thank you buddy.” 

“Do I need to call Dad?” 

You shook your head, “No, it’s okay. I’ll be alright.”

He nodded before tilting his head a little, “Why are you mad at Buck? Did he do something bad?” 

Your heart sank. He had heard you yell at Buck, and you hardly ever yelled around Chris – if ever. And now you’ve come home early, yelled at one of your best friends, and had a full blown panic attack with Christopher as a witness.

“Oh Chris… Buck didn’t do anything wrong. I shouldn’t have yelled at him. I’m not mad.”

“Why did you yell at him?”

“I was just feeling a lot of things and it was just what happened. I could have handled it better and I will in the future,” you said gently as you pushed some of his curls back.

You sniffled a little bit, “Why don’t you go back to the living room and I’ll make you some lunch after I get changed?” You gave him the best smile you could and kissed his forehead after he nodded.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Eddie had come home around 5:30 to you already finishing up on getting dinner ready. 

“Honey? What are you doing home?”

“Oh, I got the stuff I need to get done early so I decided to just come home,” you said nonchalantly with a shrug. 

He smiled and came up behind you to kiss your cheek before he went to get changed. But as he placed his hand on the small of your back, you jumped. 

Eddie’s brow furrowed, you had never reacted like that to him. But he didn’t get to ask you, because you turned your head and planted a kiss on his lips. “I love you, Eddie.” He smiled softly and kissed your forehead, “I love you too, Y/N.”

You wrapped your arms around him and buried your face into his shoulder, smelling his coffee and whiskey body spray. He hugged you back, albeit a little confused, but he could tell you needed this.

After a few moments, you pulled back, “Go get changed and cleaned up, I’ll have it plated for you by the time you get back.” He nodded and kissed your temple, “Yes ma’am.”

You smiled and pecked his jaw before he went to change.

When he came back, Eddie found you and Chris at the table, his plate made up for him just like you said it would be.

“It looks fantastic, Honey, thank you,” he said, announcing his presence before touching your shoulder and kissing the top of your head. You smiled at him, “Of course, Sweetheart.” He sat down next to you, his hand on your thigh, just resting there as you ate. 

You talked about his day and everything that went on – you having been getting his twitter notifications and just wanted a little more detail.

But when he turned and asked you about your day, you clammed up and just told him it was like any other day, you just skipped the gym today because you wanted to surprise him with dinner. And you left it at that, leaving no more room for conversation about your day.

After dinner you all went to the living room to watch movies before Chris went to bed. It was your weekend routine.

Except tonight you broke routine.

You decided that you wanted to go ahead and go to the gym, just to get a small workout in before you went to bed. So, after you did the dishes you got in your gym clothes and gave Chris a hug and Eddie a quick kiss before leaving.

It had all happened so quickly that Eddie didn’t get a chance to really slow you down and ask you what was up. This behavior was just so off to him that he just wanted an explanation.

And he did… just not from you.

After you lifted weights for God knows how long, you finally went over to the punching bag.

You had been on autopilot the moment you left the house. 

And yeah, you felt bad for just leaving Eddie hanging like that. Giving him no explanation other than you just wanted to. But you had been thrumming since your panic attack, using that energy on deep cleaning and laundry — too on edge to rest or sit still.

You needed an aggressive outlet for all that energy, you had to get to the gym.

So that’s where you’ve been. Lifting weights and running until near collapse. 

Now you were hastily wrapping your hands to take it all out on the punching bag. The poor inanimate object becoming the true outlet of your emotions, taking blow after blow as you wail on it. Your emotions from earlier in the day being released in the form of punches. 

You hated that Scott was able to revert you back to the scared girl you were that night, smothering all the progress you had thought you made.

The swinging sandbag in front of you felt like a wall as you hit it with every you had. Flashes of that night played behind your closed lids as you seemingly lost control.

You could feel his hands on you again, touching you with evil intentions. His hands mocked Eddie, tainted the loving touch of your boyfriend with his greediness. 

Your hips digging into the counter, bruised with the force of Scott pinning you in place. You couldn’t escape, you didn’t know how to escape.

With each moment flashing, each ghostly touch reminding you of what he did to you in the break room, you punched harder — oblivious to the pain shooting up your arm with each solid hit.

You couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. 

You just wanted it all to go away.

And in those moments you didn’t feel the tears running down your cheeks, you were numb. You hadn’t noticed the break in your poorly wrapped tape, which allowed your bare knuckles to meet with the canvas bag.

The tears and dissociation blurred your vision and you were blind to the fact the red spots and streaks covering the rough beige fabric was your own blood.

You had broken the skin on your knuckles, staining the sandbag with your blood as tears stained your cheeks.

But when you land a particularly hard punch and your shoulder pops grotesquely next to your ear do you snap out of it.

“Oh fuck!”

Your curse was picked up by a nearby girl who had come in at the same time as you.

“Oh my goodness! Are you okay?!”

Your head whipped up to look at her and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. 

You didn’t look good, covered head to toe in red splotches and sweat. You looked down at your knuckles and saw that your tape was practically non-existent and your hand was covered in crimson.

“Ma’am? Are you okay?”

You blinked and looked at the girl. “Yeah… yes yes I’m fine. I just… I need to go home. My boyfriend is probably worried.”

“Are you sure? That crack sounded bad…”

“Thank you for your concern but I’m alright. You have a good night and be safe, please.”

She could only nod as you quickly grabbed your bag and went out to your car.

You knew you’d be driving with just one arm and you really didn’t want to deal with an midnight ER on a Saturday night so you went straight home — knowing that you’d need Eddie.

Eddie sat in the living room, his knee bouncing with nerves as he waited for you to get home.

You hadn’t answered your phone and he was starting to get worried. With his line of work, he was already thinking the worst. Did you get into an accident? Did you get taken? He had his radio on the coffee table listening closely while he waited, hoping that he didn’t hear anything related to you come over the device.

Then he heard it. The front door opening and closing followed by keys in the bowl and a bag hitting the floor.

You were home, so at least there’s that relief.

He looked up and over as you walked by, arm cradling the other as you sniffled.

“Chris was worried about you.”

Eddie watched you tense, but you didn’t turn to face him.

He stood walking over to you. “He told me you had a panic attack when you came home today, you know, after you yelled at Buck to leave. Then you weren’t here when he went to bed. He knows something is wrong, and he’s worried it’s his fault.”

That made you turn, allowing Eddie to see the rush of tears on your face as you still cradled your arm.

“No, God no. This is nowhere near Chris’s fault.” Your voice was thick with emotion as you spoke and the realization dawned on you that you would have to tell Eddie everything.

“Did I do something? Because I thought we talked about things and worked things out. If I did, please tell me… I want to fix it… I can’t lose you…”

“Oh Eddie…”

“Please mi vida…” Eddie’s voice was soft and low as he rubbed your arms.

You covered your mouth, attempting to conceal the sob of pain and regret. But you couldn’t hide the small yelp or your bloody fist.

Concerned, Eddie put his hands on your shoulders, freezing when he felt the slipped ball and socket joint and you sobbed into your hand.

“Sweetheart?”

“Fix it… please, it hurts so bad…”

Eddie nodded and carefully got himself into position, “You ready?” “Just do i- AH!” Mid sentence, Eddie popped your shoulder back into place.

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he soothed as you sobbed into his shoulder.

“I’m sorry Eddie… I’m so sorry…”

He ran a hand through the hair at the back of your head, “Hey, lets get your hands cleaned up okay? Then we’ll talk, yeah?”

You nodded before stepping back, instinctively wiping your face with the back of your hand — smearing a little blood on your face.

Eddie tensed a little, that was the worst he’s seen your knuckles and it was starting to look suspicious to him. But you had come home the other times with no other injuries so he had no reason to question you about it.

But he could see clearly that something was wrong. Very wrong.

Eddie gently grabbed your hand and took you to the kitchen.

Without a word he sat you on the counter and grabbed the med kit from under the sink. 

You both stayed quiet as he dampened a towel and  cleaned you up, he inspected for tenderness and any signs of trauma to your hands other than the obvious.

Once he was done, you both sat in silence for a moment before you spoke up.

“It’s not what it may look like…”

“Oh yeah? Cause it looks like you’ve been fighting. I've seen the bruises on your knuckles but I don’t say anything because I didn’t want to assume. But after today I don’t know what to think.”

Your eyes fill with tears and you shake your head. “That’s not it, I swear. It’s just…” A weight settled on your chest as you realized this was the moment you would have to tell him and possibly change your relationship forever.

“Honey… please talk to me, I’m scared. I don’t want to lose you.”

And with that the damn was broken and you sobbed into your hands.

Eddie gave you a moment to calm down, comforting you as best he could until you were ready.

Once you were composed, you spilled everything.

From you needing to stay late to you going to the break room for a snack to when Scott walked in and shoved your dignity in the paper shredder.

Eddie was listening intently, his rage rising in his body but he tried not to show it and keep a gentle expression for your sake. 

But hearing you, here and now, sounding so ashamed and scared. Recounting the night in detail. 

And he had been so caught up in the job change that he hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t noticed that the love of his life was suffering because he wasn’t there. 

It wasn’t until his son came to him that he noticed something was wrong. 

“Eddie, I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry,” you sobbed, clinging onto him. “It didn’t… I didn’t want it, please you have to believe me.”

He felt his heart shatter in his chest. 

You were begging for forgiveness for something that wasn’t your fault. 

“I believe you Sweetheart, I believe you.” 

He pulled back a little, “I-Is this why you’ve been going to the gym?” You nodded, whimpering a little as more tears filled your eyes, “You won’t always be there… and I just… I want to be ready to protect myself or Christopher.”

You held your hand up and flexed it a little, “I saw Scott for the first time since that night today at work, that’s why I had the panic attack. And I needed an outlet, I didn’t know I was bleeding until I dislocated my shoulder.”

Eddie wiped your eyes, “Y/N I’m so sorry I never noticed… I should have been there…” You shake your head, “I didn’t tell you Eddie, you were going through a lot and I didn’t want to add on…”

He frowned a little but kissed your forehead. It made him feel awful that you thought you couldn’t come to him. You were processing something alone while helping him get better and that wasn’t fair. 

“Would you be willing to go to a professional about this? For you and for us? Just so we can learn to get through this together,” he laced your fingers together and kissed your knuckles. 

You nodded and pressed your forehead to his, “I want to try.” You brought in a breath, “I have to quit my job…” 

He hummed and nodded against you, “Please quit, I make enough, we'll be okay. And we can pull from savings if we need to.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie nudged your nose with his, “I love you, so much.” 

You smiled softly and flattened your palm over his heart, “I love you too, Eds. So so much.”

He wrapped you in his arms and just held you there. Planting gentle kisses to your head and whispering little jokes in your ear to make you laugh.

And that’s when you knew that it would all be okay, that it would be better. Maybe not tomorrow, but someday.

As long as you had Eddie, you would be okay.

taglists: @bradleybeachbabe @valmare @fanboyswhore9 @cassiemitchell @startrekfangirl2233

hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[aceofwhump]

No. 9 THE VERY NOISY NIGHT: Tossing and Turning

X-Men | Self/Less (2015) | Supernatural 10x17 | Grimm 1x08 | Iron Man | Hannibal 1x13 | Broadchurch 2x04 | Prodigal Son 1x03 | Little Dorrit 1x14 | MacGyver 1x11

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2022 | No. 9: THE VERY NOISY NIGHT

sleeping in shifts | tossing and turning | caught in a storm

Prodigal Son s01e03: #fear response

[smilesrobotlover]

Whumptober day 9- mistaken identity, you’re a liar

Ok idk how I feel about this one. I think the ending is bad but hopefully y’all will like it. This day was not supposed to end this way so uh, rip Wild and Windy lol

Warning stabbing and kidnapping

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wild stared at the landscape ahead of him on top of the tall tree he climbed. The landscape was very plain, only trees to be seen for miles. He looked down at Windy who was impatiently waiting for him on the ground. The boy glanced up and saw Wild staring down at him.

“Did you find them?” He called, and Wild shook his head.

“Can’t see anything except a bunch of stupid trees!” Wild crawled down the tree and gave Windy a sheepish look. “I guess we’re lost.”

Windy groaned. “I told you that we should’ve grabbed a map, or marked our path, or literally anything to keep us from getting lost! But did you listen to me? No! You said ‘I won’t get lost, I have a great sense of direction’.”

Wild stared unamused as Windy ranted about Wild’s actual lack of direction. Getting lost never really worried Wild on his adventures, it happened so much and he would eventually find his way. He just didn’t yet comprehend that he is not in his Hyrule, therefore he really doesn’t know how to get anywhere. Windy continued to rant and Wild finally got tired of it.

“Windy it’s fine. We’re not going to die.”

Windy spun around and gave him his infamous pout. “No, but how are we gonna find the others?”

“I dunno, it’d be nice to know if we knew where we were specifically. Like a compass… or if there’s any landmarks nearby, where is north…”

“Hm, sounds like we could figure all that out with a map!”

“WE DON’T HAVE MAPS! Besides, a map isn’t gonna show us where north is!”

“I mean, there’s that little thing that points to north on the map!”

“That doesn’t tell us anything.”

“Oh whatever! There’s a way we can figure out where north is anyways.”

“But are the others in the north, east, south, or west… We need to figure that out in order to know where we need to go.”

Windy hummed. “Ok yeah, that’d be hard to figure out, but it’s fine! Once I remember which star points to north, we’ll be fine and dandy!”

Wild sighed. “I only knew where north was thanks to the compass the Sheikah slate has, but,” Wild glanced at his slate, the static still showing instead of direction, “it’s not working.”

Windy gave Wild a weird look. “You’re the one who explores, you’re telling me that you don’t know how to find north without a compass?”

Wild gave Windy a weird look back. “Do you know how to find north without a compass?”

“Well—uh— only at night,” he muttered, and Wild rolled his eyes. There was suddenly giggling coming from inside the woods, and the two heroes shot up and pulled out their swords.

“Who’s there?” Windy called out, and Wild tightened his grip around his sword, but Hyrule emerged from the trees, and the two relaxed.

“For a bunch of heroes, you sure don’t know anything about traveling,” the traveling hero mocked, and Wild rolled his eyes. Of all the heroes to make fun of him for his lack of direction, he supposed it should’ve been Hyrule. He always knew which way north was just by looking at the sky, it was impressive, and Wild couldn’t help but be embarrassed at his own lack of knowledge of those types of things. He always depended on the Sheikah slate for that.

“Hyrule! You found us!” Windy cried, running to the smaller boy who smiled oddly at him.

“Yes, I’ve been looking everywhere for you two. Come now, the others are waiting for you.” Hyrule stiffly turned to the bushes and disappeared.

“Uh, what?” Windy looked at Wild who looked just as baffled. “That was weird.”

Wild only shrugged. “Hyrule has always been kinda awkward. C’mon kid.” He followed Hyrule into the bushes with Windy reluctantly following.

“Do you know where we’re going, Freckles?” Windy asked. Hyrule didn’t respond. “Uh, Freckles? I’m talking to you!”

Hyrule turned around and gave him a blank look.

“Are you talking to me?”

Wild and Windy looked at each other. “You’re the only one who I call ‘Freckles’,” Windy muttered.

“Oh! Right, how could I forget. What was the question again?”

“I asked if you know where you’re going?”

Hyrule smiled. “Of course I know where I’m going! I always know!”

Before Windy could respond, Hyrule turned around and marched on. Wild narrowed his eyes and followed, a little more cautiously this time. He studied the path they were taking, it was thick and dense, the trees making it hard to walk without tripping, until they entered a clearing, completely surrounded by the thick trees. Wild stopped Windy from continuing, and he watched as Hyrule continued walking. When he reached the middle, he stopped, and turned around to see that Wild and Windy did not follow him. He stared at them blankly, titling his head in a weird manner that made Wild’s skin crawl.

“What are you two doing over there?” He asked.

“Cut the crap. You’re leading us into a trap,” Wild yelled out firmly, and Windy looked at Wild confused.

“A trap? This is no trap, the others are just up ahead—“

“You’re a liar.”

“Hero, you don’t know where the others are, so how would you know?”

Wild’s blood ran cold from the way Hyrule said ‘hero’. Just as he thought. Wild pulled out his sword and pointed it at the fake Hyrule.

“Windy, this is a yiga soldier in disguise, he’s not Hyrule.”

Windy pulled out his sword as well, glaring at the fake. Fake Hyrule only laughed maniacally, and he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, being replaced by a yiga foot soldier. Windy gasped at the sight as the yiga footsoldier continued to laugh.

“You heroes are so gullible!” The yiga footsoldier mocked. “You didn’t even notice until it was too late!” He brought out his scythe and got low, the upside-down Sheikah symbol glaring at them. Wild couldn’t help but snort.

“So you brought two heroes in an open field then? Sounds like a great plan,” Wild said sarcastically. “‘Dunno how to tell you this though, but you’re outnumbered, idiot.”

The yiga’s mocking laughter turned into a dark chuckle, and Wild couldn’t help but feel his skin crawl.

“Do you really think so little of me, hero?” He said, and Wild gasped when he heard a sizzling sound behind him, followed by a pained gasp. Wild spun around and saw another yiga soldier with his blade stabbed through Windy. Before Wild could do anything, the blade was pulled out and Windy was shoved towards Wild, causing them both to fall to the ground. He held Windy close and glared daggers at the yiga that stabbed Windy, who was pointing his blade at the two heroes on the ground. Wild heard the other one come up from behind him, and he hugged Windy closer.

“You’re gonna regret that,” he growled, pressing his hand on Windy’s wound. The yiga in front of him only snorted, pulling out a red liquid in a bottle from his pouch. Wild’s eyes went big when he recognized it. A healing potion.

“We have no quarrels with that boy, but we do with you,” he tossed the red liquid mockingly, and Wild couldn’t help but cringe when the potion landed in his hand. “We can heal him with this, but we need something from you.”

“Just spit it out!” Wild yelled, growing desperate from blood suddenly spilling out of Windy’s mouth.

The yiga behind him grabbed his hair and pulled him harshly away from Windy. Wild tried to fight back but his hands were quickly pinned to his back and tied up in ropes. He was pulled up to watch the yiga with the potion kneel down next to Windy, who was trying to get away. His head was pulled back and the potion was brought to his lips, and Wild watched in surprise as the yiga gently helped Windy drink the potion. But as soon as it was empty, Windy was spun around and his hands were tied to his back as well. Wild glared at him and tried to break free from the other one’s hold.

“Why you—“

Windy yelped as he was pulled up and the blade pressed up against his throat. Wild immediately stopped and watched Windy’s pained expression. His entire front side was drenched with blood, but the wound seemed to be healed, thank Hylia. Though the manhandling didn’t seem to be helping the soreness.

“There we go, that’s a good hero,” the yiga chuckled, and pulled Windy up onto his feet, the blade never leaving his neck. Wild was also pulled to his feet, and a blindfold went over his eyes.

“Windy?” He called out worriedly.

“I’m here,” Windy said in a strained voice. Wild sighed in relief, but the relief was gone when he was shoved harshly, causing him to nearly fall.

“Hey, you idiots didn’t give me a choice in this!” Wild yelled out as he was half dragged, half carried to wherever they were going.

“Oh please, we knew you were going to give yourself up anyways, there was no reason for all that squabble,” the yiga holding him said in a very annoyed tone. Wild could almost hear it being directed at the yiga who stabbed windy.

“W-where are you taking us?” Windy asked.

“If we told you, then there would be no reason for your blindfold. Now shut up or else we’ll gag you both!”

Wild groaned, but he kept quiet, not wanting to piss off the soldiers that would hurt Windy even more. When anything came to the yiga, Wild never worried. To him, they were a bunch of harmless idiots who loved bananas, their leader no different. It was just when someone he cared about was involved was when he worried. He only prayed that they would at least be merciful to Windy. He didn’t care what they did to him, but he couldn’t live with himself if they hurt Windy again.