#no. 9

[lostwhump]

@whumptober | Day #9: "Bruises" Captain America: The First Avenger (2011); Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014); Captain America: Civil War (2016); The Falcon and the Winter Soldier (2021)

[collectivelycreative]

guy who likes dressing up to go out and guy who likes going out and they're always doing some wacky adventures...oh dear (4/18/26)

PT under cut

guy who likes dressing up to go out and guy who likes going out and they're always doing some wacky adventures...oh dear (4/18/26)

[small-sinclair]

If You Love Me

Whumptober 9: Obsession

Obsessed!Bo Sinclair x reader

Tw: Bo wants to kill someone, blood mention, hints of murder, he’s a bit obsessed with you, bo wants to self harm to prove he loves you

Bruises

You were hurt, bruised and battered, when he found you.

Your eyes were closed as fat tears fell from your eyes, flowing too fast for him to catch. Your perfect lips were cracked and bleeding. You were going to have scars of untreated. Your untouched skin, pure and beautiful, was going to match his— he couldn’t have it. He didn’t want it!

Bo knelt next to you and was so careful to cradle you in his arms. He felt his world beginning to shatter as he watched silently with dark eyes as the man tried to leave, tried to escape from his basement. Why did you come down here? What was your reason?

He’ll find out later. He always finds out.

Bo kisses your tears, tasting the saltiness and how bitter it was on his lips. He wanted to through his world across the room and blame the man, but he was the one that didn’t lock your room this morning to keep you away from his work. He thumbed your swollen eye and handprint bruising on your neck and felt his anger about to burst. Without hesitation, Bo lowers you and stand, and he reaches in his back pocket for a filer he keeps on him for something like this he was looking at the man with hatred, rage, and vengeance.

“You hurt my darlin’ an’ you think y’all’s walkin’ out of this alive?” He snared, growling in the back of his throat as his blue eyes harden and turn red. He gripped the file until his knuckles turned white. He had to laugh at the man’s pleads and groveling. “Do you really think beggin’ will help you?”

Without giving him much of a chance, Bo took aim and tackled him to the ground, wrapping him up in a bear hug, and crashed through the door. He felt wood pierce through the man’s lower stomach and poke at his chest, but that didn’t stop Bo. He’ll rip him apart just to make you heal faster. The mere thought of you hurting and unable to stand on your own killed him. Bo should’ve been more careful on keeping you away from the world. He should’ve built a temple around you and threw the key away. What do you want him to do to make up for his trespassing? Tell him and let him know and he’ll do it. He’ll do it without out thoughts or hesation. He'll carve your name in his skin for you and make sure you see him bleed. He deserves to feel your pain, to be in more pain than you. This man under him caused you to be shaky and tearful. He loves you more than words can say, and it drives him more than insane. Let him prove it to you. Let him show it to you! If you wish for him to inflect pain, then he’ll do it. He’ll be the walker of destruction for you. Please! He’s on his knees begging you, yelling at you, but how could you hear him from such high up? He doesn’t belong to be this close to you. He craves your voice like a junky craves a needle.

Bo will prove it to you over and over until you grow tired of his efforts.

Set him free and call him back home. Keep that chain around his throat tight and the scars on his wrist open. Make him spell your name out in his blood just to feel connected to you. Give him that much and he’ll go peaceful.

He balled a fist and hovered it over the man’s face. Just as he’s about to land a blow, he heard your voice ripping through his anger, yelling, “Bo, don’t kill him! Please!”

He snapped his head towards you and hesitated. “Darlin’, he hurt you—!”

“If you love me,” his eyes grew at your words, his heart clinching fast and too hard, “you wouldn’t kill him. You wouldn’t!”

He never wants to hear you beg like that again. He never wants to hear how hurt and in pain you are because of him and his actions. Look at you—in pain and hurt but you even give forgiveness to the same man that hurt you and bruised you to the point of being temporary blind in an eye...he’s in awe of you. He would gladly throw himself at your feet just at your command, but you questioned his love. You questioned his love and loyalty towards you.

For he is a piece of sin in front of a blessed god. A merciful god. He could never be like you...never be as full of light as you are.

He looked down at the man and how he was crying silently, soft pleads leaving his lips, then lowered his fist slowly. The grip on his shirt loosened and he stands up, casting his shadow over the ungrateful. Bo turns slowly and headed towards you and knelt once more next to you, letting go of the file in his hand. He lowers his head in shame, not daring to look up at you without your permission. He's unworthy of you and will do everything to make up to this misjudgment. He won’t even speak unless you tell him.

If you love me...

Those words echoed through his head like a voice in a cave. He’ll try everything to make up for this, do anything to prove his love for you. Just name it and he’ll do it without hesitation—

“Take me home, Beauregard.”

The way you say his name, his real name, made him shiver. When you touched his cheeks, you felt him melt like glass in a fire. He was so heavy and felt so...so warm in your touch. His shaking hand holds yours over his cheek, marveling at your touch, and nods at your command. “Yes, angel,” he whispers, his voice weak. “I’ll do that. I’ll do it for you.” Then he turned back towards the man lying in the pile of broken wood and asked, “And what about him? What do you want me to do to him, darlin’?”

“Vincent can take care of him,” you answer, turning his head back to you. The sight of your bruises and swollen body made his blood freeze. “Don’t kill him. Please, don’t kill him.”

He leans into your touch and nods at your words. “Yes, mon chere, I won’t. I promise,” Bo said, his words almost too desperate. Well, he was desperate to prove his love to you. For you to question it only showed him that he didn’t give you enough time in the day. He’ll try harder—he promises he can do better! Please, don’t give up on him! “I’ll be good. I swear; I’ll be so good to ya.”

You lifted his head to see his eyes returning to a calming ocean blue. Your touch was trembling ever so slight, scared he might snap and not listen. Truth be told, you’re scared of him whenever he does something like this. There was hurt in his eyes as you said, “Then take me home, Bo. Take me back home.” Your voice was cracking and growing painful as it began to swell. You could feel the bruise starting to build under your skin. “Please, please—take me home.”

“Yes, darlin’,” he whispers, his eyes searching in yours. “I’ll take ya right away. Promise. I promise.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead then your bruised eye. “I’ll lead ya home.”

[sondersalem]

how i feel because all my moots are older than me so im deadass a fetus compared to them

[janetm74fics]

No. 9: “We’ll make it alright to come undone.” Touch | Flashbacks | Scalding

With John

Dinner

@whumptober 2025: No. 9: “We’ll make it alright to come undone.” Touch | Flashbacks | Scalding. With John

With thanks to @the-original-sineater for the read through.

~

He came home to find Scott collapsed at the kitchen table. In his left hand was a knife that at some point had had butter on it but that butter was now a semi-melted mess on the tabletop.

The bread Scott had been intending to butter was under his cheek.

John sighed. This was getting out of hand. Carefully he backed out of the kitchen, dumped his bag down and re-entered the kitchen. He stopped beside Scott and reached out before pausing. The barest touch would wake his brother but John also knew that Scott needed his sleep – what with getting everyone off to school and putting everyone to bed and everything else in between beside his own schoolwork – and John was torn.

In the end there really was no choice. If John didn’t wake him the arrival of the rest of their brothers in the next few minutes would, and he wouldn’t let them – Gordon – see Scott looking like that.

He’d never hear the end of it from the eight-year-old.

So he laid a hand briefly on Scott’s shoulder and bit his lip as his brother startled awake and fell off the chair.

‘John?’ ‘You fell asleep again, Scott.’ ‘Where is everyone?’ ‘They should be coming up the driveway now. I rushed ahead.’ ‘Thanks for the heads’ up.’ ‘Scott…you shouldn’t be doing all this…’ ‘Please John, not now. You’re not wrong but I’ve got too much to do.’ ‘How about I start dinner while you go sort out Flash Gordon and the Little Mermaid?’

Scott’s laughter was precious, and John smiled as he listened as Scott met Gordon and Alan at the door, scooping both up and probably spinning them around judging from the amount of squealing.

Shaking his head at their antics, John got out a pizza for dinner. And then paused. No – Scott deserved to have a proper meal for once. So he put the pizza away and pulled out pasta, milk, butter, flour and cheese.

It had been a while since he’d cooked, but macaroni cheese was simple enough. He put on the oven before putting the water on to boil then began to grate the cheese while waiting. Once the water was boiling he added the pasta and began to make the roux, cooking the butter and flour and gradually whisking in the milk.

Once it was smooth he beat in three-quarters of the cheese and set it aside so he could drain the pasta.

John was so involved in what he was doing that he didn’t hear Alan enter the kitchen. Didn’t notice him until he was halfway across the kitchen.

Scott had said to leave John alone in the kitchen but Alan always said hi to John when Virgil picked him up from school instead of John. So he’d crept in and waited for John to finish at the stove.

He knew not to mess around when there was cooking going on. So when John turned around from the stove Alan jumped out at him.

There was no choice. Either the water went all over Alan or it went over John. No contest.

John jerked and the water and pasta jumped out of the pan and all over him.

And he screamed. Alan screamed.

And the rest of their brothers came running.

Scott took one look at the room and snatched John up in a bridal carry, rushing him to the bathroom and putting him under the shower fully clothed.

‘Stay under the water, John. I’m going to call Grandma. Don’t take your clothes off, just stay.’ ‘Okay, Scott.’ ‘I mean it. Don’t move.’ ‘Pr-promise.’

Scott charged down the stairs and snatched up the phone, checking in on the others while it rang. Virgil was sitting on the floor with Alan in his lap. Their baby brother was asleep, tear tracks clear on his face. Gordon was being helpful and had been clearing up the mess, which meant that there was bits of pasta all over the place but at least the floor was dry.

‘Scott?’ ‘Grandma! We need you. John’s had an accident and spilt boiling water all over himself.’ ‘Ok Scotty. Cold water and I’m on my way.’ ‘He’s in the shower. Hurry, please.’ ‘Good job. Keep an eye on the red, make sure it’s not affecting his breathing.’

By the time Sally arrived John was sitting in a bath of cool water, shivering as he tried to hold his head up to allow the cool water to hit his neck and chest. It had been over 20 minutes, so Sally wrapped him in a blanket and carried him carefully downstairs.

Alan had been placed on the couch, his head now resting on Scott’s knee, which was the only reason he didn’t leap up at their appearance. Virgil was at the table attempting to help Gordon with his homework.

Sally sat John on the chair their Mom used to use and carefully looked at the redness on his neck and chest. She checked his breathing and asked him questions about how he felt. John’s quiet answers reassured her more than anything, but with such extensive burns over such a sensitive area Sally knew she needed to make sure.

‘Scott, look after your brothers until your Dad gets home. I’m going to take John to the clinic just as a precaution.’ ‘Ok Grandma.’ ‘Boys, listen to your brother.’

Scott eased out from under Alan and followed her to the car. He waited until John had been belted in before speaking quietly to his Grandma.

‘Will you call Dad?’ ‘Won’t he be home soon? It’s almost six – I thought he’d be home by now.’

Scott flushed and looked away.

‘Scott? What aren’t you telling me?’ ‘Dad rarely gets home before 10 pm these days…mutter, mutter.’ ‘Speak clearly, Scott.’

She used the voice that no grandson would dare to disobey and, still staring at the ground, Scott spoke more clearly.

‘Dad rarely gets home before 10 pm these days, if at all.’ ‘Really. Then perhaps I should call him. Don’t worry, Scotty. Everything will turn out alright.’ ‘Sure, Grandma.’

He turned to leave but Sally stopped him with a hand on his arm and one on his cheek.

‘Trust me, Scott. We’ll make it alright.’

Her confidence gave Scott courage and he felt lighter than he had done for months. That in turn infected his other brothers and the usual homework and chores seemed to take no time at all. Scott decided that distraction was needed – he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping until John was back and he doubted Virgil would either. With any luck Gordon and Alan would drop off to the strains of Finding Nemo…

~

Sally waited until they were on a clear stretch of road and John was beginning to drop off from the warmth of the blanket and the shock before she dialled her son.

She fumed as it took three tries before Jeff answered.

‘Tracy Industries.’ ‘Jefferson Grant Tracy.’ ‘M-Ma?’ ‘Why are you still at work?’ ‘What do you mean? I’ve got work to do.’ ‘Jeff – sigh – there’s been an accident. You need to get home.’ ‘AN ACCIDENT!?! What? Who?’ ‘Calm down. It’s John and I’m taking him to the clinic. You should be home with the rest of your boys. They need you, Jeff.’ ‘I’m on my way. Thanks Ma.’ ‘Don’t thank me yet, Jefferson. We have much to talk about when I get home.’ ‘Yes, Ma.’

Promises of that discussion still ringing in his ears, Jeff broke the speed limit getting home, but it was worth it when he opened the door to find all his boys in the lounge. The vid they had been watching had finished ages ago and there was just static, but Scott was sat in the middle of the couch, fast asleep. Alan was on his lap, Virgil on one side and Gordon on the other, and Scott had his arms around them both, and they were all asleep.

His eyes softened and he broke into a smile at the sight, quietly and gently covering them and settling down in the chair to watch over them.

A blue eye barely opened, looked at him and then closed again, but not before a smile broke out on his face and Scott snuggled down a little. Jeff got up and kissed his eldest’s head.

‘Go to sleep, Scotty. I’ve got this.’ ‘’K Dad.’

And he did have this, Jeff realised. He’d been neglecting them, afraid that he wasn’t good enough for them. After all, he’d never been around to raise them – what did he know about raising children?

He’d forgotten that they were his boys. That he was a Tracy.

His comms rang.

‘Ma?’ ‘John’s going to be just fine. Surface burns only but they’ll keep them in for observation overnight to be sure.’ ‘Thank goodness. And thank you, Ma.’ ‘Don’t thank me. It was Scott’s quick-wittedness that prevented the damage. Jeff – you should never have left them in that situation in the first place.’ ‘I know, Ma. I know. I’ve been thinking about how to move forward and I have a proposition for you. One I think you’ll love.’ ‘I look forward to hearing all about it in the morning.’ ‘Thanks, Ma. And Ma?’ ‘Yes?’ ‘Can you bring home breakfast? I think the boys deserve a day off school and should be involved in the proposition going forward.’ ‘That sounds like an excellent idea.’

Finally, Jeff felt that things were beginning to move in the right direction. Finally.

[obitez]

Strike - Whumptober Day 9

Here's my last fic before the Season 9 premier - and it's a Bean fic! Also on Ao3

Bean was a fearless dog… usually. 

He’d run into a group of dogs (literally) ten times his weight without a second glance.

Buck was a fearless human… usually. 

He voluntarily ran into burning buildings for a living.

But there was one fear however that both the dog and human had in common. 

Lightning. 

Whenever there was a thunderstorm, Bean would follow any human in the house around, be constantly less than two feet behind them. Whenever said human sat down, he would insist on sitting on their lap. If there were no humans in the house, he would go into the walk-in closet in Tommy’s bedroom, pull out one of the blankets that were neatly folded in the back, make a nice bed with it and wait until either the storm ended or someone got home. 

Buck meanwhile, would try and tune out the sounds of thunder by turning up the volume on the TV, or putting some noise canceling headphones on. He would wrap himself up tightly in a blanket, maybe snuggle against Tommy if he was there. 

Usually, they could both get through a storm if they had to, even if they were alone during it. The storm tonight however, was a different beast entirely. 

There was what felt like a constant stream of thunder, the lightning outside was bright white, like it was right outside the window. 

Bean was running all around the bottom floor of the house. Up to the hall closet next to the front door, then to the bathroom, then to where Tommy was standing at the bottom of the stairs. Tommy ran his hands through his hair. He was almost at his wits end. It was already 10:30 p.m. he had a shift the next morning, and whenever he brought Bean up to bed with him the dog wanted nothing to do with going to sleep. 

Buck meanwhile, was leaning against Tommy’s back, his arms wrapped around the older man’s chest in a big hug. If Tommy paid close enough attention to him, he could feel Buck ever so slightly shaking. 

“Come on,” Tommy said as he lightly grabbed Buck’s arm and walked with him over to the living room. He sat Buck down on the couch as grabbed the throw blanket that had been folded up on the back of the couch. He shook it out and then wrapped it tightly around Buck’s shoulders, knowing it had helped the man a couple times before. 

Then, as bean ran past his legs to run off who knows where in the house, Tommy was able to catch him and pick him up. He then walked back over to the couch and sat down next to Buck, setting the dog down in between them. Tommy then grabbed the remote and turned it onto some reruns of the past week’s football games, turning the volume up slightly so it was harder to hear what was going on outside. 

Buck leant over, resting his head against Tommy’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he mumbled. 

Bean was sitting right in between their legs on the couch, Tommy wrapped an arm around Buck’s shoulders, pulling Buck into him. Slowly, ever so slowly, Tommy could feel both Buck and Bean starting to calm down. 

As the thunder started to sound less and less, Tommy turned his head to look at Buck, who was slowly scratching Bean’s back with his fingertips and had his head resting against Tommy’s bicep. 

“You doing better?” Tommy asked. Buck didn’t say anything, just nodded his head. “Feel like you could be able to finally go back to bed?” he asked. 

Buck very quickly shook his head. “No,” he said forcefully. 

“Okay,” Tommy said, rubbing his hand against Buck’s arm. “That’s alright.” He’d sleep out here if it meant Buck was more comfortable. 

“I just… feel like if I go to sleep now…” Buck started saying, his speech starting and stopping. Tommy waited him out to hear what he had to say. “I- I’ll have a nightmare.” 

And that… Tommy had already figured it was the lightning that was reminding Buck of that one call that put him in a coma for a week, but that admission all but confirmed it. 

Tommy didn’t say anything right away, he just pulled Buck even closer to him, his lips pressed against Buck’s temple. “You’re alright,” he said after a minute of silence. There hadn’t been any thunder or lightning in about fifteen minutes now. “I’ll stay here with you for as long as you need. You’re alright.” 

Buck leant further into Tommy, turning his head to look at the man’s face, giving him a small smile. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Tommy said, pressing a kiss to the side of Buck’s face.

[serickswrites]

Answer Me

Warnings: captivity, restraints, torture, rescue, bruises, caretaker and whumpee

"I'm here, Whumpee. I'm here!" Caretaker shouted as they shouldered open the door to the basement. The others were taking care of Whumper. They only had one job and that was to find and free Whumpee.

But there was no response.

Panic clawed its way up Caretaker's throat as they moved. They had to hurry. Maybe Whumper had knocked Whumpee unconscious. Perhaps Whumpee was bleeding to death. "Hold on, I'm here. I'm right here!"

Caretaker breathed a sigh of relief when the door opened and they could see Whumpee. Whumpee sat chained in a corner, but they were alive. Caretaker could see their body moving with each rapid breath. "Oh thank God, Whumpee."

But Whumpee did not respond.

"I'm here just hold on," Caretaker said as the hurried over.

Whumpee sat hunched over themself. Caretaker winced as they dropped to Whumpee's level and could see Whumpee's bruised and swollen face. Tears had dried and left tracks down their cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart, it's ok. I'm here, I've got you."

But still, Whumpee did not respond. They sat listlessly, staring at the ground, completely still except for their rapid breaths.

Caretaker cupped Whumpee's cheek. Whumpee's skin was freezing, but Whumpee didn't respond to Caretaker's touch at all. "Can you feel me, I'm right here, Whumpee?"

Even that did not get Whumpee to respond.

Caretaker knew they had to hurry. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. And they had to get Whumpee out of there.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

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