#whumprilday16

[drabbles-mc]

Collateral Damage

Angel Reyes x GN!Reader

For Day 16 of @whumpril's 2023 Challenge: guilt / shock / "I'm so sorry"

Warnings: 18+, angst, language, blood/injury, hospitals

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: Angel was overdue for a good whumping. Love this for him. 😌

Angel Reyes Taglist: @buckybarneshairpullingkink @lilacyennefer @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @queenbeered @littlekittymeow @thesandbeneathmytoes @garbinge @kelpies-shed @beardburnsupersoldiers @louisianalady @gemini0410 @frattsparty @yourwonkywriter @amorestevens @withmyteeth @winchestershiresauce @nessamc @narcolini @mijagif @choochoo284 @fanfic-n-tabulous @passionatewrites @artemiseamoon @justazzi @camelia35 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Moving into the new house with Angel was supposed to be something reminiscent of a fresh start. It was still Santo Padre, still the border, but it was a place that was going to be something that was just for the two of you. You were thrilled to leave your tiny apartment behind, and Angel didn’t seem too upset about ditching the glorified bachelor pad that he’d been living in for the last few years. It was supposed to be something new, something good.

The two of you hadn’t even gotten all of the boxes unpacked yet before someone came after Angel, but ended up giving you the scare of your life instead.

In the back of your mind, you knew that that was part of the risk. Being with him was always going to have lingering dangers. That was the price of him being an outlaw. Intellectually, you knew that. When the threat wasn’t right in front of you with a gun pointed at your chest, it was easy to say that you were willing to accept that type of responsibility, that you were cut out for being part of the life that he’d chosen. But when he’d gotten home a few hours later to find you curled up on the floor behind the couch, still crying, still shaking, it became apparent to both of you that maybe you should stop and take a beat to reconsider it all.

You weren’t quite sure if you were refusing to leave because you couldn’t handle that kind of change after what had happened to you, or if you were really trying to rally and prove to yourself, prove to Angel, that you weren’t going to quit on what the two of you had. Your reasons for staying changed depending on the day, and how hard it was to get yourself out of bed in the morning.

The two weeks following the incident, you saw Angel more than you had in months. It was admirable, the way that he was pulling out all the stops. He was home as much as he could be, and when he couldn’t be he always made sure to check in on you, calling and texting almost as much as he had when the two of you first started seeing each other. All it took was a break-in and someone threatening to kill you.

Days came and went without incident. There hadn’t been so much as a sketchy vehicle even driving by the house, let alone someone stopping and bursting into it like they had before. If you hadn’t already known better, you almost would’ve thought that what had happened was an isolated incident. But you’d seen the kutte on the man’s shoulders. You knew that whatever it was, wasn’t over.

You were still working through your first cup of coffee, cross-legged on your bed with your computer in your lap, when you saw Angel materialize in the doorway. You’d been observant before, but now that you found yourself on-edge most of the time, hardly anything got past you. You didn’t take your eyes off the screen in front of you, not wanting to look over and see the same look of pity in Angel’s eyes that had been there for weeks. He never seemed to be able to shake it, and considering the state that you were in, that you were still electing to work from inside the four walls of your bedroom instead of actually going to work, you supposed that you couldn’t blame him. It didn’t mean that you wanted to be faced with it all the time, though.

“Hey,” he spoke up, hoping it would make you face him.

Something about his tone made your stomach knot. Still, you looked over at him. “Yea?”

“Got a sec?”

You saw the way that he shifted uneasily on the balls of his feet, trying to decide if he was going to lean against the doorframe or not. It made you shift nervously as well. Setting your laptop to the side, you nodded. “What’s up?”

Stepping through the doorway, he walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed. He sat close enough to you so that he could reach out and toy with the loose strings of the comforter right next to your legs. He kept his eyes trained on the stitching as he tried to pull together what it was that he wanted to say.

“It’s about the club.”

A knot immediately formed in the back of your throat. No matter how hard you tried to keep a neutral expression, you knew that you weren’t going to succeed. You gave one slow nod. “Okay. What’s…what’s going on?”

Angel let out a small sigh, head tilting back as he looked up at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at you again. “Got a run coming up. Bish said that he needs me on this one.”

You knew that it was only a matter of time before he would have to actually leave to do things with the club again. Running with the MC wasn’t exactly the kind of job that he could do from home, no matter how badly you wanted him to stay with you as much as possible. Still, the thought of him being gone for a few nights made your hands start to shake.

“How long?” you asked, hating how weak your voice sounded.

It hurt him to look at you, how scared you were when he hadn’t even left yet. “Couple days. Not…not long.”

You nodded. There was no point in starting an argument about it—it wasn’t going to change anything. Realistically you knew that you were going to have to get used to being alone again. Angel was your partner, not your babysitter. The nervous heat creeping up your neck was telling you that you weren’t ready yet, but you knew that if you told Angel that all it would do was make him feel guilty. It wouldn’t make circumstances anything other than what they were.

“Okay,” you said, your voice just above a whisper.

His lips curled down into a frown. He knew that it wasn’t okay—that was half the reason that he didn’t want to tell you about it. But he also knew that trying to hide it from you was only going to put off the inevitable for a few days. There was no getting away from it.

“I’ll make sure EZ stops by.”

It was an attempt to reassure you, one that you appreciated. And for as much as you loved EZ, you and Angel both knew that it wasn’t going to be the same. Even if EZ camped out on your couch for the entire time Angel was gone, it wasn’t really going to make you feel any more at ease.

“You don’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, trying to smile and lighten the mood. “He’s a prospect—gotta keep him busy with something when we leave his ass behind.”

It got a tiny chuckle out of you. “Right.”

The silence that followed brought the heavy feeling back over the two of you full-force. Angel shook his head, more at himself than you. “I’m sorry.”

You sniffled, trying to pull yourself together in hopes of alleviating some of the guilt. “I’ll…I’ll be fine, Angel. Really.”

He knew you were lying, to him and to yourself. Reaching out, he rested his hand over yours, interlocking your fingers together. “It’s been quiet since all that shit went down, right?” He paused, and when you nodded silently in agreement he continued, “And I’m only gonna be a couple days. Trust me, I don’t wanna spend any more fuckin’ time in Yuma than I have to. I’ll get these motherfuckers back on the road to SanPa ASAP.” He offered a weak smile.

You tried to mirror the expression, knowing that you were coming up short on it by the look in his eyes. “You better.”

He could feel the tremor in your hand still, despite the reassurance he was desperately trying to give you. “It’s gonna be alright. Those guys…they’re not gonna come back. They’re not gonna try and hurt you again.”

That was the most that he’d spoken directly about the break-in in a long time. The two of you talked around it, alluded to it. He was never good at talking about those sorts of things head-on, not when he didn’t have a solid solution to the problem.

“Promise?” It was an unfair ask, but the word came out before you could stop it.

Angel had always been an expert at guaranteeing more than he could hope to deliver. He gave your hand a light squeeze. “I promise.”

The day that Angel left for the run came sooner than you wanted it to. If it had been a few weeks before, you would’ve gone to the clubhouse with him to see him off, to tell the rest of the guys to be safe and to take care of themselves. You would’ve been joking with them about not having enough bail money to get all of them out of fail so they needed to be careful. This time, though, you simply stood on your front step as Angel shouldered his duffle bag. Neither of you looked like you wanted to go through with what was about to happen.

“EZ’ll be by in a bit, alright?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“You can make him stay if you want. He’s got nothin’ better to do. Promise,” he tried to joke.

You managed a smile that was a little more convincing than usual. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Cupping the side of your face, he pulled you in for a kiss. “I love you.”

You wished that you could stay right there in that moment forever. It’d make life so much simpler if you could. “I love you too.”

Usually Angel would pepper you with a million promises to call and text that he undoubtedly would never keep. He would tell you that he’d be back before you even started to miss him, which was never true. But there was none of that this time. The weight that was slung across both your shoulders, something that the two of you were each forced to carry against your will, snuffed out all of the banter-filled rituals of saying goodbye. You wished that it didn’t.

“I’ll let you know when we get there,” he said, and for once you almost believed him.

“Be safe,” you said with a small nod.

He kissed you again. “We’ll be good.” One more kiss. “Both of us.”

You could’ve dragged out saying goodbye on that front step for hours, could’ve made him miss the window to leave with the rest of the club. Hell, part of you wanted to do just that. You couldn’t quite force it, though. Much sooner than you wanted, he was heading off towards his bike, one long stride after another taking him farther and farther away from you.

True to Angel’s word, EZ showed up hardly an hour after Angel had left. You hadn’t seen EZ since he’d come over to help clean up some of the mess left behind by the break-in. You had no clue what Angel had said to him about any of it, what he’d said to any of the men in the club about any of it. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Out of the two Reyes Brothers, EZ was the one who had been gifted with a convincing poker face. You had no idea what he was really thinking or feeling about you, about the entire situation. He kept it light, pleasant. He hung around long enough to eat, long enough to give a mild sense of security and that he had fulfilled his duty for the evening.

“Want me to stay?” he asked as he sat at your dining room table. “I brought my stuff.”

It was tempting. You really did want him to stay. You didn’t want to admit that, though. If you set the precedent now that you were always going to need someone to stay with you, when was it ever going to stop?

You studied his face for a moment. You wondered if you would get a different answer to your questions from EZ than you did from Angel. EZ wouldn’t feel as obligated to placate you, to protect you from the monsters under the bed and outside the windows. If you asked him for his honest opinion, you wondered if he would actually give it.

“You think you need to stay?” you asked tentatively.

He didn’t miss a beat. “If you want me to, I will.”

You shook your head. “No, I mean,” you huffed, staring down at the floor for a moment, “do you think that something is gonna happen if you don’t?”

“Those guys want Angel, the club. Not you.” He watched the shift in your expression for a moment before saying, “I’ll stay if—”

“No,” you cut him off, your voice still uncertain in the gesture. “I’ll be fine. I’ll…I’ll call you if I need anything.”

He gave you a nod, his movements easy. He had such an air of certainty around him that neither you or Angel had had in weeks. There was something reassuring about it, even if he was only able to be so confident because he hadn’t been living in the mess the same way that you had. He could handle it all in small doses just fine and not crack, while Angel had to be steeped in it with no break.

Standing up, he started to walk towards the door, grabbing his bag along the way. You followed him, intent on saying goodbye but more importantly doing the locks behind him once he left. He pulled you into a hug when he reached the door, promising you that his phone would be on and close by if you needed anything from him, if you changed your mind. You believed him. You believed most things that he said in a way you didn’t with most of the other men from the club.

You watched from the window until his bike was well down the street. Pulling the curtains closed, you started to set about cleaning up. There wasn’t much to do, but any little task to help keep you busy until you were tired enough to at least attempt to get some sleep was better than nothing.

The sound of screeching tires had barely hit your ears when bullets started flying through the windows and from wall of your house. You screamed, instantly dropping to the floor. Trying your best to stay as low as possible, you made your way back towards the very same couch you’d hid behind before. It wasn’t the best buffer, but it was the only one that was close to you at the moment.

Your hands were clamped down over your ears, knees pulled to your chest and eyes shut tight. The gunfire was fast, incessant. You had no idea how long it had really been going on for, but it felt like an eternity. The guns were going to have to run out of ammo eventually, right?

Then they finally did. The silence felt manufactured, like someone had made a call on a set and they were about to yell action to kick it all off again. You didn’t know if you should get up and try to go out the back of the house, or if you should stay put in case they all opened fire again. The right choice didn’t matter much since you didn’t think that you were going to be able to get your legs to move.

You eventually managed to pry your eyes open. You still felt like you couldn’t quite pull in a proper breath, but at least you could see now. Although, the mess you were surrounded by wasn’t a particularly comforting sight to open your eyes to. You took a quick scan, moreso just to make sure that people hadn’t also entered the house along with the bullets. It all happened over the span of just a few seconds but it felt like so much longer.

It'd been quiet for just long enough to make you think that someone was either about to barge into the house, or they were going to drive off. You were about to try and force your legs to hoist you up when you heard more gunfire. It was different than what you’d heard before. Singular shots, longer breaks between. But it went from just a few to the sounds of an actual exchange and you felt yourself freeze up again.

There was the sound of a few loud thuds against your front door and you couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped out of you. You clamped your hand over your own mouth, trying to stifle the sounds, not that it would do you much good. A few more thuds and suddenly you heard the cracking of the door frame breaking, followed by heavy footsteps.

You were crying now, not even attempting to quiet the sound. Your body was shaking more than you thought it was capable of, heart pounding so hard in your chest you thought for sure it was going to crack one of your ribs. The footsteps kept getting closer and you wished that you had it in you to get up and run, but you couldn’t. The floor may as well have been pulling you down.

Then you heard it, the sound of your name. It was quiet, but intense. It took a few seconds for you to realize that it was EZ who was saying it. He must not have gotten so far away that he didn’t hear the gunfire.

Suddenly he was crouching down in front of you, blood splattered across his clothes. “Let’s get you out of here.” You watched him as he looked you over, his expression steady as ever. “Can you walk?”

“When the panic subsides enough to let me stand,” you thought. You couldn’t get the words out, though, so instead you just nodded. Reaching for EZ, you grabbed onto his shoulder in an attempt to use him as a means to push you up onto your feet. Your fingers dug into the leather of his kutte, arm and shoulder tensing in preparation for the lift, but then you didn’t move. Nothing happened.

Instead of looking at yourself, you looked at EZ. He always had answers. When you took in the look on his face, your heart started to speed up all over again. The frown he had on hadn’t been there earlier. Whatever the situation was now, it must’ve been worse.

He could see that you were about to look at the state of yourself and he spoke up, distracting you as he slid his arm around you to help you to your feet. “You’re good,” he said, a convincing lie. “You’re good. C’mon.”

He got his feet underneath himself enough to help you to your feet. Once you were upright, you were so distracted by the disheveled state of your house that you hardly noticed the way that he was practically dragging you towards the front door. He was shouldering more of your weight than you were, but you couldn’t even feel it happening.

Despite all of the chaos and destruction and mess, your car keys were still somehow resting on the table just inside the front door. EZ swiped them on the way out, knowing that there was no chance in hell that you would be able to get on the bike.

As he maneuvered you down the front steps and towards the car, that was when you saw the destruction that was outside, too. You felt your stomach tighten, feeling dizzy at the sight of the blood and the shot-out car windows. EZ was talking to you, attempting to distract you from the carnage that he’d created in the process of getting to you, but it was too late.

“EZ,” you didn’t even recognize your own voice as you repeated his name over and over, unable to get any other words out, “EZ. E…EZ.” Despite his best efforts you almost sank to the ground anyway. “Oh my god.”

“Look at me,” he kept his voice level, calm. He pulled the passenger door of the car open, sliding the seat back with no grace at all before going to help get you into the seat. “Just look at me.”

You tried. You tried to focus on him, on the way he needed you to move so that you could get into the seat of the car so that he could get the two of you out. But your eyes kept straying back to the mess.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, EZ was in the driver’s seat, slamming the keys into the ignition of the car. You were finally able to watch what he was doing. “Where,” you swallowed hard, “where are we going?”

You assumed he was going to take you to the clubhouse, maybe to Felipe’s—somewhere that you’d be safe while he cleaned up the mess. He didn’t say anything at first, one hand reaching and gripping onto the headrest of your seat as he looked over his shoulder to reverse out of your driveway.

The longer he went without answering your question, the harder you stared at him. A million scathing comments and a thousand other questions were racing through your head as you stared at him, but for some reason you couldn’t seem to force any of them out. You were trying to get yourself to take a couple deep breaths, thinking that if you got your breathing under control, the words would come.

Leaning back in the seat, you rested your hands in your lap as you started to shut your eyes. It was only a couple seconds after you closed them when you heard EZ saying your name again, this time with a little more of an edge to his voice.

Prying your eyes open, you looked over at him. Picking your hand up off your lap, you went to rub the side of your face when you saw that your skin was covered in red. Confusion washed over you for a moment as you stared at your hand, like your brain was willfully not connecting the dots. You could see EZ in your peripheral, looking back and forth between you and the road as he waited for the fallout.

“Where are we going?” you repeated your question from earlier.

He knew that there was no more avoiding it, no more letting you have your denial. “Hospital.”

You felt your brain trying to rouse you into a panic, but you just couldn’t seem to do it. Your heart sped up but you couldn’t make yourself move any quicker. Even if you could, there wasn’t really anywhere that you could go.

“You’re okay,” he said, trying to reassure you despite the evidence stacking up proving just the opposite.

Your eyes widened. “Angel.”

“He’s already on his way back.” He looked at you for a moment, and when he saw the look on your face he elaborated just enough. “Called him when I heard the shots.”

You forced yourself to look out the windshield, your brain caught between thinking about everything that had happened, and trying to distract yourself by thinking about literally anything else. Luckily, it wasn’t much longer until the two of you reached the hospital. EZ managed to help you get to the door, where you were met by a team of doctors and nurses who seemed more ready than you could ever hope to be. You remembered them taking you off in the wheelchair, and telling them that they couldn’t send EZ away because you needed him, but after that everything got fuzzy, and then everything went dark.

All you could see was blinding light when you came to, and for a moment, you thought that maybe you’d actually died. Heaven was a lot harder on your eyes than you thought it would be.

But then you heard the sound of a chair scraping across tile. After a couple long, hard blinks things slowly started to come back into focus. You felt someone’s hand wrap around yours, the familiar coolness of metal rings letting you know that it was Angel. Within seconds you felt his forehead pressed against yours, the feeling of his breath on your skin as he let out a sigh of relief. He squeezed your hand, the compromise for not being able to hold you.

“You’re awake,” he said it like he was reassuring himself that it was true.

You gave a small nod, your voice still not sounding like your own as you said, “You’re here.”

“EZ called—I turned right around. I’m,” he sucked in a short breath to keep himself together, “I’m so sorry.”

The apology made tears spring into your eyes. Hardly awake for a minute and all of the emotions that you’d been drowning in for weeks came flooding right back to you. Your hand trembled in his. “You said I’d be okay.”

He flinched at the statement even though you were speaking softly. He didn’t pull away, his head still resting against yours as he nodded slightly. “I know.”

“You and EZ. You both,” your voice was slowly starting to come back with each word, “you said that I would be okay. That there was nothing to worry about.”

“I didn’t think—”

“You left me,” the words came out strained, fighting with the sob that was trying to dislodge itself from your throat.

Pulling back so that he could look you in the eyes, Angel could see how tired, how broken you were. You could see the tears in his eyes as he looked at you, neither of you still the same people you were when you met those few years ago. Everything was different now. Worse, in some ways.

“I know,” he conceded with a nod. “I know I did.”

Your bottom lip was trembling as you watched him run his thumb over your knuckles. “I don’t think I can do this, Angel.”

He froze. “What?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I can do this. I…I can’t go through this again.”

“We’re gonna handle—”

“And then what?” you cut him off, talking despite the pain that was starting to radiate throughout your body now that you were fully awake. “We wait until the next guy who has a problem with you comes and shoots our house up again?” You shook your head. “No. I, I can’t. I thought I could, but,” you shifted slightly on the bed and felt the pull of multiple bandages beneath your hospital gown, “I can’t. I’m, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, clasping your hand tighter in his as he plead, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you again. I won’t. I promise.”

The tiniest, saddest smile curled your lips. Angel Reyes, always so full of promises. “I know you think you mean that, but…” you trailed off.

“I do mean it,” his words sounded so earnest.

Despite everything that had happened, all that you’d gone through the last few weeks and the fear that had settled so deep into your bones, it was the most sure of yourself that you’d felt in a long time. It didn’t feel good, but underneath it all you knew that it felt right.

“Angel…”

He shook his head. “No, no. Don’t say it like that.”

Tears trickled out onto your cheeks. “I don’t know how else to say it.”

The sadness on his face broke your heart. You knew that on the tip of his tongue were a thousand things he wanted to say to try and make you change your mind. But you could see it in his eyes that he knew that it wasn’t going to happen. He knew that this was too much, that things had gone too far. He knew that this was it.

“I love you,” he said, lips twitching as he tried not to let his own tears escape.

You managed a soft smile. “I love you too.” That hadn’t changed.

Dragging his hand down over his mouth and his chin, he got himself together enough to ask, “Can I still stay here? With you?”

You nodded. “That’d be good.”

He nodded in return, going back to the chair that he’d been in while he was waiting for you to wake up. There was more to say, more questions to ask, but all of that could wait now. You laid in the hospital bed, staring over at Angel while he sat in a chair that looked too small for all of his height, staring right back at you.

#whumpril #whumpril2023 #whumprilday16 #guilt #shock #i'm so sorry #mayans mc #mayansmc #mayans fx #angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes x you #mayans mc fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #drabblesmc

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Whumpril Day 8, Day 16

Bloodshot, Coughing Fit

Whumpril Prompts List

TW: coughing, sickness, pneumonia, self-deprecation

Whumpee could feel the cough rising in their chest, the unbearable tickling, burning sensation in their throat as they held it back. Caretaker was asleep nearby; Whumpee didn’t want to wake them. Unfortunately, they could only keep the cough back for so long.

Whumpee cleared their throat, trying to soothe the burning. It didn’t work. What started as a simple grunt snowballed into a cough, and another, and another. And another. Whumpee’s chest spasmed as their lungs tried desperately to expel the sickness. They covered their mouth, but it didn’t do anything to stop the coughing or muffle the noise.

Eventually, the fit subsided. Whumpee’s throat burned even more from the force of their coughing, and the sound trailed off into a quiet sob.

“Whumpee…? Are you okay?”

Whumpee exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I’m okay, Caretaker, go back to sleep.”

Caretaker was silent for a few moments before sitting up. Whumpee could see their eyes were bloodshot from many nights of little sleep spent caring for Whumpee. “I’ll get you some water,” they said, rising to their feet.

“Nonono, it’s fine…” Whumpee weakly protested, but Caretaker ignored them and left the room.

Whumpee slumped. Stupid pneumonia. Stupid cough. Stupid me for getting sick.

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds @pigeonwhumps @whumpril

#whump #whump writing #my writing #sickfic #sickness #illness #pneumonia #whumpril2024 #whumprilday8 #whumprilday16 #blood shot #coughing fit #self deprecation #whumpee #caretaker #stubborn whumpee #exhaustion

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumpril 2024 - Day 16 - Coughing Fit

Oh I love this prompt, I do love inflicting An Awful Illness on my boys c:

TWs: Illness, fever

"Come on, just take a seat, nice and slow." Only Bastian's hands at Mariano's hips kept him from collapsing to the bathroom floor. He trembled as his knees gave out, and Bastian lowered him to the carefully constructed pile of blankets and pillows. "You need a steam session bad."

Mariano's fingers never released their grip on Bastian's shirt. "Thank you. I didn't think a flu could get this awful--" He was cut off by a round of coughing that ripped through him, each one raking its nails over his lungs and up his throat as his free hand clapped to his mouth. He couldn't fully manage to get any of the congestion up, stuck in the awful limbo of needing to cough and needing to breathe at the same time.

It felt like he was drowning in that military hospital bed all over again.

When he managed to wheeze in a breath and the roaring in his ears quieted, Mariano realized that Bastian was kneeling beside him. One hand slid along his back between his shoulder blades while the other braced against his chest to help keep him from falling into the blanket face-first. "You good?"

The question was less mocking than usual, and Mariano just nodded, holding out a thumbs-up.

"Good," Bastian's hand left Mariano's back and he felt him leaning and reaching into the bath. With the harsh rattle-scrape of the curtain rings sliding against the rod, Bastian fully spread the shower curtain and then turned the shower on full blast. He twisted back around and tugged Mariano up into his lap, ignoring the embarrassed squawk it drew.

Once Mariano was settled and his back was to Bastian's stomach, Bastian patted Mariano's chest affectionately. "Now, let's get some steam in here. It'll help break that crap up and maybe you'll get some sleep tonight."

"Don't even know why it hit me so hard." Mariano complained as he dropped his head back against Bastian's chest. His voice sounded like a rusty gate. He grimaced. "You were only sick for three days but we both got the flu shot."

"Yeah, and I didn't get tortured for two years and starved for like, eight more." Bastian said, kissing the top of Mariano's head as he started to slide his palm over Mariano's pact brand at the center of his burning chest. Mariano was in one of his old tees so the contact shouldn't have been too overwhelming--and just like he hoped, Mariano just relaxed into him with a sigh. "I think your body's earned being absolutely obliterated by a flu."

"Whatever." It was the closest Mariano was going to get to admitting that his idea that he was still nineteen and able to work through anything was less than realistic. "I guess it's best for me to stay home anyway. The kids don't need to catch this and neither do the customers."

Bastian laughed as steam really started to fill the air. He wouldn't voice the idea that Abby was actually the one who gave it to him--it was midterm season and she went to a public high school when she wasn't being a barista, after all. "Yeah, I don't think you'd last very long anyway. What's his face, Scary Regular? The paralegal guy? He'd have driven you home himself, or something. You look like shit."

Mariano laughed, and Bastian felt how his breath caught, his hand shuddering with Mariano's chest as he struggled against another coughing fit.

"Relax. Relax, this is supposed to help with that. I have you." Bastian murmured, wincing as Mariano fell into another strangling fit that forced him to curl in on himself. Bastian held him as he did, kissing the back of his head. "You're gonna be okay."

When it finally released Mariano, he leaned back with a hoarse groan. He didn't complain when Bastian's claws slid through his hair, drawing tension from his shoulders and making his eyes slide shut. Bastian kept going, carefully combing through Mariano's sweat-damp hair and listening as every coughing fit started to sound less and less like it might be Mariano's last.

Bastian wasn't surprised when Mariano finally went still against him, just about boneless from how deep his exhaustion ran. "That's it, take a nap." He whispered, slowly reaching back to shut off the shower. "I'll always have you."

@whump-captain @whumpr @whumperofworlds @lektricwhump @cyberwhumper @bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @honeybees-125

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday16 #day 16 #coughing fit #illness #fever #mage of violence #dragon of diamond #something soft and sweet that's been eating me alive all day #All I want is a handsome dragon to baby me when I'm sick and that's a lot to ask but like I think I've earned it

[blackrosesandwhump]

Whumpril Day 16: Coughing Fit

CW: illness whump

A gentle spring breeze lifts the curtains at Nathaniel’s open window, bringing with it a faint scent of grass. He tries to take a deep breath. Tries and fails. Instead, the movement starts his cough going again. Just when he thought he might be able to get out of bed. At least his fever broke during the night, leaving in its wake a damp pillowcase and tangled sheets.

His eyes watering, he grabs a clean handkerchief off the side table and wipes his face. His chest no longer feels like it’s about to implode, which means whatever strange power fueling the stone has settled down. For now, that is. He can never escape it.

Another cough racks him, stealing the breath from his lungs. As he doubles over in bed, gasping, he makes a vow to himself.

The moment he can leave his bedroom again, he will find a way to lift the curse, no matter what it takes. And he’ll start in the library.

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday16 #coughing fit #sick whump #illness #coughing #original character #oc whump #gothic illness #bedridden #blackroseswrites #whump snippet #whump drabble #whump writing

[lingeringmirth]

yellow tulips

Written for @whumpril day 16. coughing fit.

Stranger Things | Steve Harrington & Robin Buckley| Rating: G | Words: 333 | hanahaki disease, hurt steve (but ofc he's hiding it), one-sided crush, or is it???

Also here on AO3.

MY FIRST HANAHAKI FIC!

-

The petals had started after the boathouse. 

Steve tried keeping it discreet, to cough surreptitiously into his sleeve, into his hand or try and keep it in, he didn’t have time to deal with it, they didn’t have time to deal with it. It wasn’t a problem, it wasn’t. There absolutely was no pretty drugdealer with big eyes and bigger hair that he had a crush on that he refused to acknowledge, no way.

Of course, Robin noticed.

‘You have to tell them!’ she hissed at him, having thankfully pulled him aside before she told him off. ‘Tell him.’

He discreetly coughed a few petals off to the side and then faced her again, hating the worried look on her face, they really didn’t need this on top of everything, he could push through this. His throat still tingled and his chest felt tight, but he swallowed the cough down, breathed through his nose, even when that itched too.

‘There’s nothing to tell.’ He crossed his hands over his chest. ‘I’m not… there’s no feelings.’

He couldn’t look at her, but heard the wounded noise she made, felt her hand land on his arm, that show of caring almost a little bit too much, even if he craved it at the same time. 

‘Dingus.’

‘No. Feelings.’ 

He bit the words out, swallowing the petals that tried to emerge, but it didn’t help.

He couldn’t hold in the cough this time, hacking up a shower of bloodied yellow tulip petals which kept catching on his throat, clinging until he couldn’t breathe even when he tried taking in great gulping breaths past the barrage of petals flowing up through his windpipe, from his lungs where they had taken root. Spots swam in front of his eyes as he coughed and coughed and coughed, down on his knees on the ground now while Robin rubbed over his back and panicked.

Steve passed out before he heard the steps, or saw the absolute horror on Eddie’s face.

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday16 #prompt: coughing fit #platonic stobin #robin buckley & steve harrington #hanahaki #(my first hanahaki fic!!!) #hurt steve #angst #yellow tulips mean hopeless love #steve harrington #robin buckley #st fic

[coffeeangelinabox]

Whumpril #16: Alt Prompt #2 You're Pathetic

It’s a firing squad. An honest to Dark firing squad, like something from a war novel of old Earth’s bygone era.

Anger had straightened Lee’s back as he’d been marched through the station - too little, too late - but the white hot fury about being deemed unworthy, so irrelevant that a bargain with him was null and void had kept him stalking forward, lips pressed into silence. 

Then he sees them: black clad Domain soldiers. Faces masked. 

This is going to be no peaceful, quiet drugged slide to the other side of the stars. This is going to be violent and brutal and loud, blood and pain and the last sound in his ears the retort of old fashioned gunfire. They all look up as he’s pushed over the threshold where shock has brought his feet to stillness. There’s no malice in the sets of eyes regarding him, a cool, academic disinterest. 

Lee baulks as it all comes rushing back - the terrible fear of death, of ending that led him to give up the others, his family, Darrow to begin with.

He backs up a step, but the Lieutenant (only now does he realise he still doesn’t know the name of the man who is going to have him killed) is unsympathetic and he’s shoved brutally forward. His bare feet can’t get a purchase and he slides at the force being exerted. Clammy feet on tile let out a screech that echoes the terror coursing through Lee. 

“N- no,” he stutters out, “No. Please.” It occurs to him to be humiliated as his voice cracks, but he doesn’t blush, fear instead training blood from his face and making his skin ash white. The tears are back, but not in anger this time, instead a silent, terrified torrent. “D- don’t. I can…I’m one of Darrow’s crew. No one else knows I betrayed him. There must be other groups, rebel factions, they’d accept me, I could lead you to them.”

He’s forced forward another brutal pace, and he staggers to his knees, grasping at the Lieutenant’s arm in a desperate attempt to resist. 

“Please. Please. Don’t…Just let me live. You promised.”

The Lieutenant sneers down at him where he cowers. “You’re pathetic.” 

He looks away as if considering Lee’s offer and for a fraction of a second, hope bubbles in Lee’s chest.

Then he looks back down at the cringing boy. “The Porter’s are gone, Sierra is still at large but no longer has any followers. Darrow is the last credible threat to order in this sector. I don’t need you.”

Lee’s eyes widen. He’s too petrified even to feel sick. He feels every atom of his body as an individual entity, threatening to fly apart. “Nonononono. I- I’ll do anything. Just-”

“Squad,” the Lieutenant says, turning away from him as though he is a speck of dirt, not even worth the direction of his gaze. “Take aim.”

Lee screams and is aware of heat and wetness between his legs as his bladder gives way. Ammonia assaults his nostrils. The Lieutenant wrinkles his nose and steps backwards, leaving Lee to huddle on the floor in his own piss. 

“Take aim. Fire.”

#my writing #whump #whump prompts #whumpril2024 #coffeeangelinabox's space opera ocs #execution #implied character death #traitor #whumprilday16 #character wetting themselves #tears of fear #begging #you're pathetic

[isamajor]

Whumpril 2024 : day 16 to 20

16 . Coughing Fit

Telmiltarion hated caves. Each descent triggered an inexplicable apprehension. These cramped spaces made the hair on the back of his neck bristle, and this feeling of being trapped gave rise to panicked thoughts.

The air smelled earthy and stale. The dust made him cough. When he tried to breathe again, it became wheezy. The fear of choking took over, and his heavy breathing turned into fits of wheezing coughs. An endless loop began: increased fear, intensified wheezing, followed by violent coughing and choking gasps. He could no longer calm his cough. Everything his companions tried to do to relieve him seemed in vain. (103)

•

17 . Hallucination

Nebarra staggered through the forest, holding a nearly empty bottle of wine in his hand. Fatigue tugged at his eyelids, but he refused to give in to sleep and its nightmares. The shadows of the trees in the moonlight turned into changing specters, dancing before his troubled gaze. A twig snapped under his feet, putting him on alert. He turned around, drew his sword, expecting enemies, but saw nothing. Only silence answered. Then, whispers floated on the breeze, growing louder with each passing second.

Complaints, dying groans, pleas... Was it real or were his nightmares from the War coming to life on the wind? (104)

•

18 . Broken Glass

The vial had slipped from his hands and crashed to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces and spilling its precious contents onto the floor. Lucien knelt down and tried to pick up the scattered pieces of glass but the sharp fragments did not fail to cut his fingers. He let out a squeal of surprise and pain. Drops of blood mixed with the spilled potion on the floor and, for a moment, Lucien became afraid of the alchemical mixture it could have made. He froze, sucking his wounds, among the broken pieces of glass, waiting for a possible alchemical reaction. (101)

•

19 . « I need you. »

This goodbye sounded like a farewell. The dragon would transport the Dragonborn to the ancient fortress of Skuldafn. From there they would go through the portal to Sovngarde. A sort of journey of no return. Their companions who can teleport themselves would join them, but Lucien remained behind. Someone had to stay, right? However he wanted to believe that the Dragonborn could come back.

"Skyrim needs its Dragonborn. So do I.", he said in a strangled voice. "Ah that's sounded awfully gushy." he tried to compose himself. Then, squeezing the Dragonborn's forearm, he added, staring intensely at them, "Still, it's true.". (104)

•

20 . Touch Starved

Taliesin sat alone in his tent, fingers playing with the cover of a book he had found in an old chest. The candle flame flickered, and the shadows caressed his face. Memories attacked him. Moments of casual touches like a friendly pat on the shoulder, a squeeze of the hand...

He sighed. He hoped, in the future, that his relationships with his new traveling companions would allow him to be touched, cherished, fully accepted as one of them. To ease the crushing void within him. Just one tender gesture, a single act of kindness to remind him he was worthy of being loved. (103)

------

You can read all the Whump drabbles I've made so far for the Skyrim Custom-voiced Followers here ! Drabble collection (collection of small texts around 100 words each) featuring the Last Dragonborn, Kaidan, Lucien Flavius, Inigo the Brave, Auri, Nebarra, Xelzaz, Remiel, Lucifer the Argonian, Caryalind Thallery, Telmiltarion, Gore, Taliesin, Lydia and Serana.

#whumpril2024 #skyrim #skyrim custom followers #whumprilday16 #whumprilday17 #whumprilday18 #whumprilday19 #whumprilday20 #Telmiltarion #Nebarra #Lucien Flavius #Taliesin #coughing fit #panic attack #hallucination #ptsd #broken glass #finger wound #i need you #touch starved

[vicvinegarandhughhoney]

Whumpril Day 16- Coughing Fit

A ficlet set during one of Coop's (many) asthma attacks.

#whump #whumpril #whumprilday16 #dr nick cooper #er 1994

[pandoramoments]

Iroh coughed heavily as he watched his great-grandson gurgle happily, legs waving in the air as his large, golden eyes took in the beginnings of autumn.

They were out in the gardens of Iroh's tea shop, though he had little to do with the running of it these days, and Iroh II was lying on a blanket as he took in the heat of the sun. They had left Princess Izumi in the back room, his granddaughter getting some well needed rest after their journey.

He coughed again, lifting a hand to try and dull the sound, and he found he was unable to catch his breath. The wheezing irritated his lungs, and he coughed again.

Agni, this illness was clinging to him like creeping ivy to an old damp wall. He couldn't shake it.

When he took the time to reflect, he suspected he would never shake it. He looked down at the baby again, regret seeping into his very bones as he acknowledged the fact that this was the end of his last summer.

He sighed heavily, which set off another coughing fit, eyes streaming as his spare hand reached down to grip the blanket underneath him.

He had lived longer than he had expected to, long enough to see the end of the war and to watch the nations start to repair, but he was going to be going from this world, one way or another soon, and he had to consider his next steps.

#my art #atla #iroh #uncle iroh #whumpril2024 #whumpril #whumprilday16 #coughing fit

[bg-sparrow]

Fandom: Back to the Future || Rating: T || Genre: Whump, Angst, Some Humor || Summary: In which Marty finds himself living an outlaw’s life alongside Buford Tannen in the Old West, where danger, death, and disease abound.

whumpril 2024 || day 16 - coughing fit

Marty entered the quiet Spanish mission after nightfall. He removed his hat when the llavera’s grim smile greeted him.  Buford’s violent cough beckoned. Marty eyed the bowl of soiled rags, the perspiration beading Buford’s ashen brow; the way his chest shuddered from each shallow, wheezing rumble.  The open book on his lap. TREASURE ISLAND Marty’s throat constricted. A smile flickered in the corner of his mouth; a pirate story sounded right up Buford’s alley. “I thought you couldn’t read.” “Thought I’d try.” Anything to keep his mind off dying. Marty took the book, sat down.  “I’ll read it to you.”

#whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumprilday16 #coughing fit #back to the future #bttf #marty mcfly #buford tannen #frenemies #drabble #stand there and bleed #fanfic #whump drabble

[arrow-of-ravenclaw]

whumpril day 16

I Will Scream Them Loud Tonight

fandom: Onward (2020)

rating: teen

It started with an innocent cough…

@whumpril day sixteen - coughing fit

#Whumpril2024 #whumprilday16 #Coughing fit #Onward #onward fanfic

[crimsonlyinglilly]

Day 12 Weak Pulse

Also Day 16 Coughing Fit and Day 21 “Just hold on.” for whumpril

Still working on the catch up, and so here a collection of several days.

Familiar faces, set Season 3 x 15 of the vampire dairies follow on from CPR

Kol watches his brother and gains several questions however the answers have to wait as Elijah ignores his own health.

---

Kol watched as his mother’s protective circle starts to fail, the flames starting to flicker and die down. He looked between mother’s shock and Elijah stiff form, hand held out stretched as he focused on smothering Esther’s power.

Esther’s power as well as the Bennet line, he remembered learning under Ayana, besides her children, that line was powerful, Elijah hadn't had enough power or interest to take part in those lessons back then.

And yet Elijah was countering it on his own even channelling his original body that shouldn’t have been possible without-

Just as he thought it he noticed his brother’s heart beat start to slow from it’s heightened rate, getting to a level that would be normal to a vampire but was wrong from a teenage human under stress.

“Stop!” he ordered appearing beside his brother, one hand reaching out to grab Elijah in an attempt to shake him from his concentration 

“I won’t kill me while I’m linked to you.” Elijah countered but Kol could hear the laboured sound in the words, the way he was leaning into Kol’s hand, uses it to keep him upright.

It may not kill him but Kol was well aware of the permanent damage overuse of magic could cause, so he swallowed, remembered where the echoed sharp stabs of pain he felt during their journey here and with a quick jab from the hand not holding Elijah, slammed a hand into the bruises left from the CPR.

He winced as Elijah let out a choked cry and he heard the surprised grunts from his brothers as they all felt Elijah’s cracked ribs shift and ignoring his discomfort he caught Elijah.

Elijah crumpled into his arms, coughing. His magic vanishing causing mother’s protection to flare back up, he ignored that as well as the sound of Finn’s questions, it seemed mother hadn’t shared with him that Elijah would be part of this spell.

Kol let Nic inform their oldest brother of what mother's true intentions for their current human brother, it seemed Mother hadn't been completely honest with Finn, why he thought she would be this time when she hadn't when she had first killed them all, was beyond Kol.

Instead he spent his attention on Elijah, who was stuck in a coughing fit, struggling to catch his breath, while using his supernatural hearing to make sure his hit hadn't broken the rib and cause it to puncture.

He didn't want to need to take his brother to ER since they had apparently made enemies of al the witches in this town

They shouldn’t have let him come Kol thinks, the moment they realised his injuries they should have made him stay back.

But then when had any of them ever managed to get Elijah to let them go, his stubborn protectiveness was the one thing none of them had ever really tried to break because they all liked having that attention at one point.

And look where it had ended up getting Elijah.

As the coughing fit ended, Elijah slowly regathered his breath to straighten as he returned his glare back at the pair in the circle, stepping away from Kol.

Moments later the protective flames flickered again and Kol had to check that Elijah wasn't trying something before mother started to shout calling to the Bennet ancestors.

It seemed the Salvatore brothers had fulfilled their roles, it was only the fact Kol was still watching Elijah that he caught the flickering of grief in his brother’s face as he also realised what it meant.

Right, because the oldest Bennet witch had trained Elijah in this life, even if Kol was judging what and how much his brother knew, Elijah had called the woman, Grams, and the youngest was a friend of Elijah’s.

It seemed their Mother was as bad as Klaus at ruining Elijah’s new life and bringing death to the people that he grew up with. 

He pulled Elijah back to him, his brother falling easily into him without resistance, Kol would assume he was lightheaded and exhausted from both using to much magic and pushing an injured body.

He discovered Mother and Finn’s escape as he looked up to find the woods empty, other than Klaus watching with concern, but for once Klaus was silent.

He rested one hand on Elijah’s neck to catch the faint beat under the skin and waited as the weak pulse slowly started to strengthen and return to its normal pace. Faster than he was used to from Elijah but this was the new normal for his brother he was going to get used to it.

The self sacrificing hadn’t changed sadly, only growing worse as it had expanding to cover even more people to Kol’s annoyance, he had thought to keep the link between them as something to stop Klaus from daggering him and protect Elijah but if Elijah was willing to use it to risk permanent damage to himself the sooner they were all unlinked the better.

“Can you walk?” he asked, as his mind started pointing out how much smaller Elijah was now, Kol wasn’t unused to being taller than Elijah but this was different, Elijah Gilbert was a growing teenager who hadn’t spent most of his time training under the unforgiving hand of Mikeal or hunting their food.

And now exhausted and in pain, it had stripped away the commanding confident aura Elijah normally had, that made himself the fearsome, merciless 'noble one'. Leaving just Elijah, his brother, and currently the most fragile of his siblings.

“Probably not.” Elijah admitted not looking at him and Kol blinked when he realised the silence from Elijah wasn’t caused by the injuries or the magic overuse but embarrassment.

“Idiot.” Klaus snapped but before Klaus could move towards them, Kol shifted his hold on Elijah and swept him up into his arms while trying to be careful not to jar his ribs, he had done enough damage tonight.

“Wha- Kol- what ar- '' Elijah started to ask looking at him with wide eyed surprised. Kol ignored the louder thoughts that Elijah should have a nosebleed if not more considering how much power he had used, he’d worry about that after they dealt with mother and her plans to kill them.

“Just hold on.” he told him, waiting just long enough for Elijah had followed his instruction before he took off into the woods back to the house Klaus had brought them.

Elijah would be staying with them until the threat of their mother had passed. It wasn’t like Elijah could argue since that was his own rule he had set in place centuries ago.

In the morning once Elijah recovered from this magic overused Kol was teaching him to heal broken bones and getting him to fix those ribs, he was getting tired of the dull echo he could feel through the link.

#whumpril2024 #whumprilday12 #whumprilday16 #whumprilday21 #weak pulse #Coughing fit #“Just Hold on” #fanfiction #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #the originals #klaus mikaelson #fic #tvd fanfiction #au- familiar faces #the vampire diaries #the vampire dairies au #the originals au

[dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night]

Whumpril Day 16 Guilt | “I’m so sorry.”

TW: religious abuse, guilt tripping, exhaustion, overworking, deity whumper, devotee whumpee

"Is this really the best you could do?" Vo'ki asked.

"I'm so sorry," Wren said. "Everyone thought I was trying to get them involved with an insane cult. I couldn't convince any of them."

"Then you are to continue trying. I desire a rather large crowd for our wedding."

"Yes Vo'ki."

"For what are you waiting?"

"I've been out for hours trying to convert people. I'm close to collapsing. Please, I need to rest."

Vo'ki sighed. "You are such a disappointment to me. You could have brought at least one person. But no, of course not. You hardly put in any effort. You did absolutely nothing to warrant a break from your responsibilities."

"I'm so sorry," Wren said again. "But if I go out again I'll end up passing out. I won't be at all convincing if I'm exhausted out of my mind."

"Go on then," Vo'ki said. "Sleep if you must. But know that I am most displeased with your conduct."

Wren fought back tears as he laid down in bed. Sleep soon overcame him, casting him deep into a world of dreams.

Taglist: @elim-flower @devourerofcheesecake @whumpsday @whumpshaped @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @hearse-song @heavenly-whumper @nyooom @suck-my-clit-loser @enbygesserit

Event: @whumpril

#Whump #Whumpril #Whumprilday16 #Divinity #Religious whump #Exhaustion #Over work whump #Deity whumper #Devotee whumpee

[uuuhshiny]

Russell Crowe in Fathers & Daughters

Grief

#by uuuhshiny #Russell Crowe #fathers and daughters #whumpril2023 #whumprilday16 #uuuhshiny's gifs #whumpedit #Guilt #Shock #I’m sorry

[bookishzelda]

Whumpril Day 16: Coughing Fit

Finally a story featuring young Link in Ocarina of Time! He’s a precious child who should be protected but alas, here we are. This one is maybe a little squeamish as it takes place in the bottom of the well, so there’s talk of death and gross stuff.

Whumpril Day 16: Coughing Fit

OoT Young Link

CW: Mentions of dead bodies

Link rubbed his arms in a futile attempt to block his skin from the damp and heavy air. The stench of death and rot assaulted his lungs, making his nose sting. Even though the well was Kakariko’s main water source, it was so full of dead bodies and other decaying matter that Link had to wonder how the residents were still doing so well.

Turning a key in the giant lock, Link pushed open a door and was immediately hit with an oppressive wave of decay—the smell of hundreds of bodies resting sealed up for years. He quickly pressed his hat over his face, stepping backward into the larger room, fighting the bile that started to rise.

Once he was far enough away, he removed his hat from his face and breathed in a large gulp of air—which of course was a mistake. The exceedingly damp and stale air assaulted his lungs, making him choke. Link doubled over coughing, hacking until his sides burned. As the fit began to subside, he tried to catch his breath, but he was only rewarded with more mold in his lungs. His eyes watered from the strain. He could feel every muscle in his body contract from the violent spasms.

When finally, finally he was able to clear the toxins from his system, he stood up straight and took a shallow, steadying breath. He let another involuntary shiver run through his body before holding his hat to his mouth again and pressing on toward the door. If Ganondorf thought he would give up that easily, he had another thing coming.

#Whumpril2024 #whumprilday16 #coughing fit #tloz #tloz fanfic #my writing

[crash-bump-bring-the-whump]

Whumpril 2023 - Day 16

Hehehe I love shock symptoms, they're so fun!! The team belongs to @that-one-thespian!!

TWs: Shock, blood, gore

Guilt | Shock | "I'm so sorry."

The fight was over. The last body dropped as Mariano tugged his glowing knife free, his faceless form surveying the carnage around them. His magic was released. The blade was wiped off on his jeans. It was sheathed.

Mariano looked at Bastian, not removing his casting mask yet. Bastian didn't need to see his eyes to know his mage was looking him over for injuries as he stood back up. Blood-soaked denim brushed Bastian's knees and shins as he shook his hands, still smarting from when he'd caught himself on the hard concrete floor.

Someone had gotten a lucky hit in and clipped the back of Bastian's skull. His knees had buckled. They'd raised their gun.

They lay on the floor. Now still. Now harmless. Now with a hole through their chest from where Mariano had pounced.

Just behind Bastian, Fletcher got the only door out of the large basement unlocked.

It swung open with a quiet click, and Bastian saw Mariano's focus shift. The turn of his head wasn't sharp or nervous, like a bird. It was slow and confident. Analyzing. Predatory. Behind his faceless mask, his mage took in the sight of Elana with the team right behind her, all of them slowly walking in.

"They--we heard screaming. And gunshots." Fletcher stuttered out, gaze flicking around the room as he picked up speed. "Are you both alright? Bastito?" Fletcher worried over Bastian, fluttering hands reaching for Bastian's face. "You're, you're bleeding."

Bastian leaned into Fletcher's touch, kneeling for Jewel to take a look. "I'm okay. Mariano stopped 'em." He knew deep red was dripping through his hair, making it look far, far worse than he felt.

Glancing over as he was guided down to sit on a clean patch of concrete, Bastian saw Archer walking towards Mariano. He never got nervous, no matter how weird Mariano acted after a fight. Slowly, Mariano began to walk to meet him, regaining some of the softness in his shoulders that Bastian had grown used to seeing.

Mariano didn't need to be a machine anymore.

When he was only a step or two away, Mariano staggered, his sure steps faltering. He met Archer's outstretched arms in a hug, the two of them holding each other tight. One of Archer's arms wound around his waist, the other hand finding its way into Mariano's hair.

He glanced down at the hand on Mariano's side and all at once the relief on Archer's face was replaced with focus. "Mariano?" He asked, and Bastian saw how Mariano's hands at Archer's back started to droop. "Hey, firecracker. Talk to me."

Bastian's eyes followed and saw blood smeared along Archer's metal palm.

All at once, Mariano's knees gave out and Jewel darted over. Bastian and Fletcher followed, kneeling next to where Archer had lowered himself and Mariano to the floor. "I..." Mariano started, sounding muffled beneath the mask. His teeth were still reflexively clenched around the conductive bit. "I...think someone hit me. During the fight."

This close, Bastian could smell Mariano's blood above all the rest. There was a slightly darker patch on his black tee, just above his hip. Wren's fingers made quick work of the straps that kept the mask flush to Mariano's face. Tugging it away, Mariano was much paler than he'd been before they'd been locked into the would-be death trap and used to taunt the team. Dazed, dark eyes drifted between Bastian and the team as Jewel set to work.

As Jewel gave calm, sure instructions to everyone, Bastian couldn't bring himself to feel anxious. In-shock Mariano was still more relieving to see than a Mariano who knew it was do-or-die. This Mariano talked, and held their hands, and made pained noises when Jewel applied pressure to get the bleeding under control. This Mariano smiled at Fletcher despite that, and answered whenever someone asked him a question to help keep him awake.

This Mariano didn't seem like he was trapped in a waking nightmare.

Even while he was bleeding out, this Mariano seemed alive.

#whumpril2023 #Whumprilday16 #Shock #Blood #Gore #The team #Mage of violence #Dragon of diamond #Archer #Fletcher #Wren #Elana #jewel