Welcome to the 2026 Whumperless Whump Event, where we celebrate all kinds of situational, accidental and environmental whump! If this is your first time, welcome in--if you've been here before, thanks for coming back!
FAQ and text version under the cut!
Frequently Asked Questions:
Q: Where can I find the prompts list?
A: @whumperless-whump-event on Tumblr.
Q: How are the prompts divided?
A: Each day has a "title" or a vague theme, followed by two tropes and one dialogue prompt.
Q: Can I use the title as a prompt?
A: Absolutely.
Q: Do I have to use all of the prompts?
A: Not at all.
Q: Can I use all the prompts?
A: Absolutely.
Q: If I'm writing a chronological story, can I swap days to fit the timeline?
A: Yes, just make sure you tag your days and prompts appropriately. If you're writing for day 6, but you post it on day 12, tag day 6, not day 12.
Q: Can I have early or late entries?
A: Yes. This is a very laid back event, and meant mainly to inspire lots of whumperless whump. It's not a strict writing challenge.
Q: Is there an Ao3 collection?
A: Yes! This year's collection is linked here. The parent collection also includes 2024 and 2025--make sure you select 2026.
Q: Can I write [insert anything here]?
A: Yes. However, this blog will not reblog certain topics (ex. nsfw or suicide), so please tag your works appropriately, so anyone can filter out anything they don't want to see.
Q: Can I use AI?
A: No.
Q: Can a whumper be included in the prompt fill?
A: The short answer is no. The long answer is that you cannot have the role of whumper in your prompt fill (aka: no whumper-on-whumpee); however, if the character you want to be a whumpee or a caretaker happens to be a whumper, then as long as they are not fulfilling the role of whumper, it's fine. Also, if there is a whumper, it must be totally impersonal and faceless. Here are some examples for clarification:
A character's drink is spiked at a party.
OKAY: The whumper who spiked the drink is never mentioned and is completely faceless, and the story is directly about whumpee recovering.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper who spiked the drink kidnaps the whumpee.
A character is left alone in a storm.
OKAY: The character is stranded or lost.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: Whumper tied them to a post and left them in the storm.
A character is mugged on the street.
OKAY: The whumper is a stranger, faceless, and the focus is on Whumpee.
NOT WHUMPERLESS: The whumper is a stalker and there to kidnap Whumpee.
All in all, if your goal is to fulfill the event, then try to avoid a whumper. If you're using the prompts elsewhere, then ignore this, but in the spirit of the event, no whumper roles please.
Q: How do I tag my posts?
A: Tag with #whumperless whump event, #wwevent 2026 and #wwevent day [x](Don't just tag wwe, that's wresting.) Make sure to tag the fill type (art, fic, music, etc) with #fic, #art, #et cetera. Then, tag triggers and content warnings. Please put these first in the tag order! It just makes it easier to reblog.
Q: How do I get reblogged?
A: Mention this blog in your post! It's the easiest way for me to find you. Otherwise, I won't reblog it. (This also means if you do not want your post reblogged to the event, just don't mention the blog, and it'll stay private.)
Q: I disagree with something/have an issue with a prompt/want to address a problem. How should I do it?
A: Send me an ask and we can fix it. I am more than willing to work through any problems--I am human, and not without fault.
I think that's about it. That's a lot, so if you've got any other questions that aren't on the list, feel free to shoot me an ask. I'm happy to help!
Plain Text:
Like a Baby Seal to Water: Fishtailing / Near drowning / "I thought I was going to die."
Somebody's Gotta Do It: Unexpected caretaker / Touch starvation / "You don't have to hide from me."
A Lull in the Chaos: Bedside vigil / Checking vitals / "Can you… sing? Until I fall asleep?"
How Are You So Oblivious: Unknowingly feverish / Falling asleep at work / "Can you drink some water for me?"
Wilderness Experts: Poisoned / Caught in a trap / "I don't know where we are."
Down The Wrong Pipe: Choking / Seizures / "Call an ambulance, tell 'em they're not breathing."
Wrong Place, Wrong Time: Panic attack / Overstimulated / "Get me out of here."
Are You Sure This Is Normal: Natural disasters / Scared of thunder / "We're safe in here, okay? I think."
Dropping Like Flies: Multiple whumpees / Caretaking while sick or injured / "I'll get some rest soon, I promise."
A Warm Welcome: Coming home from the hospital / Cuddle piles / "You scared me so badly…"
Bodily Betrayal: Stomach sick / Carried to bed / "…Yeah. I can call in sick for you."
You Make Me Lose My Breath: Wheezing / Altitude sickness / "You're not making sense."
Waking In A Cold Sweat: Midnight hospital visit / Allergic reaction / "I thought you were getting better."
The Final Straw: Grief / Mental breakdown / "You don't need to be okay right now."
For Hurt -Comfort Bingo
Bleeding through the Bandages to Driving them Home
With snake bite and the victim can NOT be Scott
Snake Bite
Sineater asks For @sweetspicybingo Bingo Card: Bleeding through the Bandages to Driving them Home With snake bite and the victim can NOT be Scott
Also for @whumperless-whump-event Day 12, Alt prompt 2: Literally Biting You: Animal Attack/Venom
~
‘Watch your step, Sprout.’
Scott, leading the way, didn’t see his youngest brother mouthing off behind him, but his inane “Elder Brother Radar” had Scott turning, and Alan wasn’t quick enough to stop. Scott regarded him gravely and spoke mildly.
‘I thought Gordon was the only one who did fish-faces.’
‘Ah…sorry, Scott. I guess I’m tired.’
His face softening, Scott reached out and gave Alan’s shoulder a squeeze. They had been hiking through the Sonoran Desert for several hours now and while Scott was a hiker Alan was most definitely not.
At first it had been fun. It was rare that Alan got to spend quality time alone with Scott that wasn’t on a mission. But Alan didn’t have Scott’s stamina for walking – all fricking day!!! – and was now getting bored.
He stumbled and Scott was there, holding his elbow, a concerned look on his face.
‘Are you alright Al? Do you need a break?’
‘Nah, I’m good for a little longer.’
‘You sure? There’s no shame in stopping before we’d planned.’
‘I’m good, Scott. Honest.’
Scott clapped him on the shoulder and carried on walking and with a sigh Alan pulled his backpack up and set off after him. He stumbled a little but had just managed to catch himself when a sharp pain shot through his ankle.
His gasp had Scott turning back around. Alan was bent over, holding his ankle but as he glanced up he saw the look of horror appear on Scott’s face.
‘Sc-Scotty?’
‘Stay still, Alan.’
Alan immediately stilled, for it was the Commander who had spoken. He watched as Scott slowly moved around him and slowly crouched down before backing away. But Alan was already distracted by the rapidly growing pain.
‘Scott? Aren’t you and Alan hiking…’
‘Alan’s been bitten by a Mojave Rattlesnake. I need course of action and immediate treatment.’
‘You need to lie Alan down, remove any tight clothing and keep him as calm as possible.’
‘Thank you, EOS.’
‘Two is launching now and I have called the local emergency services. They will get to you first. Can you wash the wound with plain water?’
‘On it. Should I bandage it afterwards?’
‘Only if you have a loose wrap bandage, not a compression bandage.’
‘I do.’
‘Scott, I have Phoenix emergency services online for you.’
‘Thanks John, EOS. Please stay on the line.’
‘FAB.’
‘Hello, this is Scott.’
‘The Medical Helicopter has been scrambled. Can you give me any stats on the victim?’
Scott looked at Alan. He was pale and sweating, biting his lip in an effort to control the pain. As Scott watched he shuddered once. And then again. He rapidly fired the stats
‘S-S-Sco…’
‘Alan?’
‘S-S-Sco…’
Scott swore softly and manoeuvred Alan so that he was propped against his chest with his leg raised on a pile of rocks. He was twitching occasionally, trying to talk but not getting a complete word out. Scott felt helpless as Alan spasmed against him.
‘John, how much longer for the helo? Alan’s dropping fast.’
‘The helo’s on its way, ETA another 20 minutes.’
‘And Two?’
‘Virgil’s redlining her but he’s still a couple hours out.’
‘Ok. Ok. What can I do to help?’
‘You’re doing it. Keep Alan as calm as you can. That’s literally all you can. The calmer he is the less the venom is going to pump around his body. How is the wound?’
‘He’s bled through the bandage I applied.’
‘The venom is coagulopathic, can you wrap another bandage around it?’
‘No, I only brought the tiny kit.’
‘Ok. Ok. Just…concentrate on keeping him calm.’
‘FAB.’
Scott started rocking Alan gently and began humming their Mom’s favourite lullaby. Alan was too young to remember the tune but his brothers had made sure Alan hadn’t missed out, using it quite ruthlessly to comfort the youngster.
He felt his brother relax against him and continued humming. And then Scott paused and looked to the sky.
The whomp-whomp of an approaching helicopter was a welcome noise and he relaxed.
Of course that’s when Alan stopped breathing.
Scott shifted Alan to the ground quickly and began CPR as the helo settled down to land. He was aware of the two medics who jumped down and set up around Alan, but he ignored them until they were ready and all but pushed him aside.
He paced around them, practically pulling his hair out as he couldn’t do anything more than watch. John was a comforting voice in his ear but there was only so much he could do.
The AED had to be fired three times before the medics were happy that Alan was safe to move and they rolled him onto a gurney and loaded him into the copter. Scott made to climb up but one of the medics stopped him, shut the door and Scott stepped back as they took off.
‘Scott?’
‘Ah…yes, John?’
‘The quads will be with you in an hour.’
‘An hour? Two will be here a little after that.’
‘What are you thinking, big brother?’
‘I can jog towards them, cut that time down or I can send them back in case anyone else is injured and wait for Virgil.’
‘Your call.’
‘Send the rescue team back. They’ll not get me there any quicker than Two.’
‘FAB, I’ll let them know.’
‘Tell Virgil I’m heading back so he’ll know I’m on the move.’
‘Will do, Scott.’
Scott snatched up Alan’s backpack and the detritus they had caused and set off at a gentle jog back the way he’d come. He knew that John would track him and inform Virgil accordingly.
While he was jogging John kept him informed of Alan’s status. They’d got him breathing and had already began the IV infusion of antivenom. So far Alan hadn’t had an allergic reaction and Scott found immediate relief from that particular news.
John also played a news item regarding the specific air ambulance company that had flown Alan out, how they had always been at the forefront of carrying antivenom on their helos and had not only saved lives but also cut down the hospital stay of their patients.
As Scott relaxed he sped up, and as a consequence once Two finally landed they were much closer to Phoenix and subsequently Banner University Medical Centre. By the time they’d landed Alan had been installed in the ICU and hooked up to all kinds of monitoring systems and IVs.
He was asleep when they arrived, for which Virgil was very thankful for when he had the opportunity to actually regard Scott, who had immediately sat in the chair nearest the bed and taken gentle hold of Alan’s hand.
The guilt was already piling up on the man. His shoulders were hunched right up to his ears – in fact his whole body was curled into himself – and Virgil stifled a sigh.
It was so like his brother to crush himself under the guilt of what happened. As if everything was his fault.
Virgil’s hand on his shoulder had Scott startle even though he knew his brother was here. He gave a squeeze and expected Scott to relax but he didn’t, impossibly he tensed even more, so Virgil did the only thing left open to him – he pulled Scott back against him in the tightest bear hug he could from his position.
At first Scott tensed again before relaxing and then melting into the hug. Virgil didn’t release his hold until Scott let go of the breath he’d been holding and patted his arm. Only then did he let go and pull up the second chair in the room and sit down.
They’d not been there long when the doctor came. He looked over Alan’s stats and checked the two IVs. Alan was currently on his second dose of antivenom and would potentially have to have several more over the coming hours depending on how well he was responding, and the second IV contained saline and morphine to help him with the pain.
The doctor shook hands with both of them and proceeded to run down what had been done and what was going to be done for Alan.
‘Alan received the full initial dose of Anavip onboard the air ambulance and did not have a reaction. He was also treated with some antihistamines and a shot of Dilaudid. Thankfully he responded quickly to the CPR and didn’t need any further invention. Mojave Rattlesnake venom can cause a lot of issues not only with clotting but with tissue damage to the affected area. Whoever applied the first aid did a great job and it hopefully limited any permanent damage.’
‘Permanent damage?’
‘Alan’s young and very fit, and he was treated very promptly so we’re not expecting any complications. What we’re doing in the immediate is managing the pain – rattler bites are one of most painful – and keeping a close eye on Alan’s blood in regards to his clotting and blood pressure, and on the swelling around the wound.’
‘How long are you planning on keeping him in?’
‘Ideally three-seven days in case he needs further antivenom.’
‘Is that likely?’
‘Unfortunately no one can predict how a patient reacts to a bite. Now, that’s a lot to digest and Alan will be awake soon so you’ll need some time to discuss things. We’ll be doing regular blood draws but unless there’s an issue we’ll stay out of your hair for as long as we can.’
‘Thank you, Doctor.’
He shook hands with Scott and Virgil, and left, and they settled down for the wait – both for Alan to wake up and for the rest of the family to arrive.
They didn’t have too long to wait.
Alan stirred and Scott sat forward immediately, laser-focused on his brother’s face. He didn’t stir even when the door opened and Kayo slipped into the room. She hugged Virgil and leant against Scott before kissing Alan’s forehead as his eyes fluttered open.
‘Kay?’
‘Hey Alan. You good?’
‘Yeah.’
She grinned at him, ruffled his hair and stepped back so Scott could talk to him. She paused by Virgil and murmured that she was going to fix security before slipping out as quietly as she’d arrived.
Within the next couple of hours the rest of the family arrived and Alan fell asleep and woke up twice. This last time, though, he was more aware of what was going on, and stretched his hand out to Scott, who took it and held it tightly.
John booked the nearest hotel and for the next four days they took it in turns to sit with Alan and Scott, who only moved when Alan insisted he sleep. But they were all together when Alan was given the all-clear – with one proviso.
Since it had been less than 48 hours since his last shot of antivenom the doctor had advised no flying to reduce the continued risk of clots and swelling.
Alan huffed and pouted but Scott lit up. He winked at Virgil and John, who immediately understood what he wanted, and John slipped out to order what his brothers needed while Virgil and Gordon tried to cheer a glum Alan.
It didn’t take John long, and on his return he handed Scott a set of keys. Alan frowned and waited for an explanation while, with a not-too-subtle nudge the rest of the family said goodbye and left the two brothers alone.
There was a slightly uncomfortable pause before Scott once again leaned forward, passing Alan the keys. He watched the frown deepen as he regarded the keys for a moment before speaking.
‘Sprout? I am so, so sorry.’
‘Sorry? What for?’
‘You got bitten. That’s on me.’
‘No – what? How the…Scotty!’
‘Um…Alan?’
‘This is not your fault. I should have been looking where I was going. How many times did you tell me to watch where I was going?’
‘Yeah, but I should have taken you on a shorter trip. I knew walking wasn’t your favourite pastime.’
‘Stop it. I wanted to share this with you. Get over here.’
Gladly Scott sat on the bed and folded Alan into a gentle hug.
‘So…how are we getting home?’
‘Well, since you can’t fly for a few more days, how about a drive?’
‘A drive?’
‘Let’s go home to the ranch. John’s hired us a car and we can take our time.’
‘That sounds sweet! What’s the car?’
‘What do you want it to be?’
Alan thought for a moment. He’d wanted to do a road trip for a long time, but he hadn’t really given any thought to the car itself. But then a memory surfaced.
‘Wait – do you have a Mustang?’
‘Nope. Try again.’
He frowned again and thought hard, causing Scott to laugh. Scott helped him to stand and they made their slow way outside while Alan continued asking questions.
‘A Corvette?’
‘Nope.’
‘A…Thunderbird?’
‘Better.’
‘What’s better than a T-Bird?’
They made their way outside to see the car waiting, bright blue with darker blue and silver highlights. Alan turned to his brother with his eyes alight and astonishment clear on his face.
‘Dad’s Thunderbird?’
‘Dad’s Thunderbird.’
‘No way!’
‘Ahaha…yes, way.’
‘Can I drive her?’
‘Noooo!’
‘Pleeeeeese?’
‘Not until you’ve passed your driving test with Parker.’
‘And then I can?’
‘We’ll see. You ready for the drive home?’
‘Yeah! Let’s go!’
john price x reader, platonic or pre-romantic, hurt/comfort, motorcycle accident, discussions of past suicidal ideation, @whumperless-whump-event, day 13: midnight hospital visit; divider by @uzmacchiato
It was just after Price had gone to bed when he got the call. He was at the hospital within 20 minutes, entering in sweatpants and a hoodie, though the soft clothes did nothing to soften his expression.
“John Price,” he told the tired looking woman at the front desk. “You called me because—”
“John.”
You were sitting in the waiting area already, not dressed all that differently than he was. Just a bit more… muddied. Dirty sweatpants, a torn hoodie and a tanktop underneath fighting for its life not to fall apart as well. John stalked over without a word, pressing you back down when you tried to stand.
“Sorry,” you grimaced. “Told them not to bother you.”
“That‘s what you‘re sorry for? Waking me up and not almost dying in an accident because you were riding without any protection?”
You winced under his stern tone. Price was rarely happy when you did dumb stuff, but this time he was really pissed off.
When he realised that you were not going to speak, Price sighed and sat next to you. “What‘s the damage?”
“Broke a couple fingers.” You lifted and turned your hand to present it to him. “Got lucky other than that. Mostly just scraped skin, bruising, all that. My helmet and bike are wrecked though.”
“Good.”
“What? Price, it‘s expensive!”
“And you‘re just going to buy a new one?” he snapped. “What, almost dying isn‘t enough? Want to make sure it sticks next time?” The waiting room had gone quiet and a tired looking security guard eyed them wearily. Price swallowed hard and nodded towards the door. “My truck. Now.”
Without another word you followed him, glad you had already been discharged. Price opened the door for you and watched with a tight expression, even buckling you in when you struggled with only one functioning hand. The drive was silent. Price did not bring you home, instead he drove to a shitty fast food place, ordered your usual without asking and parked in the parking lot.
“Eat.”
He did not have to tell you twice. Even if you only had one hand, eating burgers was something you would never not be able to do.
“I thought you were feeling better,” he eventually broke the silence. “I thought… I thought you weren‘t being reckless like that anymore.”
“It‘s not… It‘s not like that. This wasn‘t…. It wasn‘t that.”
He looked at you for a long moment. “No? Are you sure?”
“Yes.” A frustrated sound left you. “Today was… it was fucking stupid, I know that, Price. But it wasn‘t… I wasn‘t trying to…”
Price leaned back and looked out front. “Okay. I believe you.”
“Thank you.”
“It was still fucking stupid.” He sighed. “What even happened?”
“Some asshole was texting and missed a red light; hit me instead. I fell on his bumper, but my bike slid under his car. Total wreck.” You scoffed at the memory. “Dickhead even yelled at me like it was my fault.”
“Hope you gave him hell for that.”
“Among other things.”
Price nodded. “Good.”
Silence fell over the car once again. You both ate in silence, stinking up Price‘s car in a way he would be annoyed about for several weeks at least, but for now he was just glad that you seemed to be okay. When he got the call, he‘d imagined the worst. This was… not that. He looked over at you, picking a fallen crisp out of your ripped hoodie and stopped the words that were about to leave his mouth. He was pretty sure you already knew anyway. Instead, he started the car.
“You‘re crashing at mine tonight.”
“Aww, worried?” you teased carefully, pretty sure that we was not going to explode in your face again, but making sure just in case.
“Fuck no,” he snorted. “Just can‘t be bothered to drive across town to your place before going to mine. You‘re also taking the couch.”
You grinned and leaned back. You both knew you were not going to sleep on the couch tonight. “Thanks, John.”
Part 2 is done! HOORAY! Again, thank you to @sailsflyseaward for the fic request, this idea was killer!
Prompt fill for @whumperless-whump-event day 10: "You scared me so badly..."
Also a prompt fill for the @badthingshappenbingo square: Near-Death Experience
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Poison can be slow. Silent. Tired muscles after an extended mission are normal. A numb pinky is nothing to freak out over. They aren’t indicators that something is going horribly wrong inside your body.
Zayne was suspicious, but you shut him down. After all, all you need is rest.
this is not any of the fics i was actually trying to write to introduce my OCs, these guys don't even have an intro post up yet, but current (weather) events just made this happen and here we are
the last bit was totally inspired by this video of a finnish man yelling at a bear who tries to steal a trash bag
--
The temperature was nearing 30 degrees Celsius. For Julian, that was nothing out of the ordinary; he didn't enjoy it exactly but he could live with it. Alex, however, was clearly struggling. He'd been struggling for the past five days as the temperatures climbed over 25 degrees and steadily towards 30, and today was the worst so far.
The blonde young man was presently lying flat on his back in the grass, limbs spread in starfish position, only the steady rise and fall of his chest giving any indication that he was alive. The sun had moved enough since he'd flopped down there that the shadow of the great maple tree was starting to inch off him, exposing one toned arm to direct sunlight.
Julian, sipping his lemonade on the porch of Alex's family's summer house, was just thinking about whether to wake him up when Alex finally stirred.
"I think I'm dying," Alex groaned, rolling over to his side.
"Not dying," Julian replied with a faint smile, "just suffering." It was funny how Alex could handle—even enjoy—completely ungodly temperatures in the sauna, yet be all but incapacitated by outdoors temperatures just short of thirty. The look he gave Julian was so miserable Julian wanted to hug him…Only that wouldn't help cool him down.
"You've remembered to drink?" Julian asked. "And not just water, either?"
Alex nodded with an inarticulate whine. His T-shirt was visibly damp with sweat under the arms and across the chest, and his hair was curling even more than normally.
"Well," Julian went on when it was clear that no verbal response was forthcoming, "maybe you should try taking a shower. Or at least dunk your head under cold water for a bit."
"I see how it is," Alex grumbled weakly. "The sun isn't killing me fast enough so you're going to drown me…"
Julian snorted softly. "I wasn't planning on getting in the shower with you," he replied. Well, the idea might have some merit, maybe, but Alex probably wasn't in the mood, all things considered. "So if you're going to drown, you're going to have to do it yourself."
Alex hauled himself up to a sitting position with an exaggerated grunt of effort. "Fine," he said, "I'm going. To shower," he added after a beat, "not drown. Maybe." He pushed himself to his feet, wavering slightly as his blood pressure tried to keep up, and then headed into the house.
--
Later in the evening they were sitting in the big kitchen-slash-living space of the house, eating strawberries and cream.
The house had two floors, though the upstairs was more like a glorified attic where Alex and his brother had slept when they'd used to come here with their parents as kids. Well, Alex would still sleep there if his parents were there at the same time, but since they weren't, he and Julian had appropriated the ground floor bedroom that remained marginally cooler than the attic. Built sometime in the mid 1900's, the house and the concept of air conditioning were probably not even aware of each other, let alone more closely acquainted.
The clink of Alex's spoon settling into the ceramic bowl brought Julian back from imagining a younger Alex running buck-wild all summer in the surrounding fields and woods. He looked up to see the present-day Alex getting up slowly. "You good?" he asked.
"Yeah," Alex began, then reconsidered. "I dunno, man. Just feeling kinda icky."
"Aw, still?" Julian replied. "That sucks."
Alex gave a slightly lopsided shrug. "Yeah, well. Think I'm just gonna go to sleep."
"You should have something salty," Julian said, trying not to sound like he was fussing, but Alex had had no appetite at dinner and the amount he'd sweated over the day was guaranteed to throw his salt balance—or whatever—out of whack. Besides, an Alex with no appetite was almost always a cause for concern in and of itself…
"I know," Alex replied. A sudden mischievous glint appeared in his eye, then he leaned closer and licked the side of Julian's neck. "There. Yummy."
"What the—" Julian exclaimed with a startled laugh. "I swear to Godzilla, the sun has actually fried your last brain cell…" But Alex looked less miserable than he had basically since the sun came up past the trees at ass o'clock in the morning—probably not due to the amount of salt he'd licked off of Julian's skin, though—that Julian didn't have the heart to even fake disapproval for long. "Fine, go to sleep, dumbass," he said fondly, slapping the other man's ass in passing. "I'll just do the dishes quickly and I'll be right with you."
--
Alex lay in the darkness of the bedroom—heavy blackout curtains blocking out the light of a northern summer night—trying to will his brain to shut down and get some sleep, but everything in the universe seemed to be working against that very goal. His head felt heavy, kind of fuzzy, but annoyingly awake, and every time he closed his eyes the room began to loop in wobbly circles around him. His body felt overheated despite the shower and the amounts of iced drinks he'd put into it. And as a cherry on top of the shitcake, the loudest goddamn mosquito in the entire kingdom of Sweden had gotten into the room and was probably flying circles in the darkness just beyond his vision, just to spite him. At this point he'd almost rather the fucker sit down and bite him just so that the sound would stop.
He kind of wished Julian would hurry the fuck up, but he also dreaded having to share the bed because it would inevitably get even warmer, even if they weren't crazy enough to cuddle.
By the time the creaking of the floorboards told him Julian was finally here, Alex had had ample time to regret if not all, at least 70% of the life choices that had led to this point. He'd just wanted to show Julian the place he'd spent most of his summers as a child; he'd not ordered a fucking heat wave to roast the countryside alive while there, thank you very much.
"But at what cost," Alex replied, the words coming out as a semi-intelligible groan but Julian seemed to get the gist of it.
The mattress dipped as Julian sat on the other side of the bed. Then, like a fucking miracle, something damp and cool settled onto Alex's forehead and over his eyes. And another pressed to the side of his neck. "They won't stay cold for long, but it should help for a bit at least," Julian said softly, and then the mattress dipped again as he—presumably—settled down on his side of the bed.
"I think you just saved my life," Alex mumbled. He could identify the ancient kitchen towels by the faint smell that clung to them no matter how recently they were washed, but right now he couldn't care less if they were Julian's used underwear.
"Not sure I'd go that far," Julian replied, and it took Alex a second to realize he was responding to the comment about lifesaving, not the thing about underwear which, for a delirious moment, he'd worried he'd accidentally said out loud. "But if it helps you—and by extension, me—sleep tonight, I'll take it."
--
Alex must have fallen asleep shortly after that, because the next thing he knew, he was jolted awake from dead sleep by… Well, he didn't really know what. At first he thought it must have been a sound, but the house was completely silent, even Julian wasn't snoring.
As his body slowly caught up to the whole being awake thing, Alex had to confront the fact that he was feeling awful. The pillowcase and the bedsheet under him were drenched with sweat, but the primary function of sweating—cooling the body down—wasn't really working as far as he could tell. The towel against his neck had long since caught up with his body temperature and was just a gross, damp mass against his skin. He wasn't sure where the other towel had ended up; he must have yeeted it in his sleep.
The feeling of discomfort ebbed and flowed in waves as he lay in the stifling darkness. Maybe he should get up and rinse the towels in cold water and try that again since it seemed to work so well the first time. Drink some water. There were still strawberries left, too… Or maybe not strawberries; for some reason the thought of strawberries was intensely off-putting right now. Especially with cream. Which was odd, because usually he could eat his body weight in strawberries and cream with no issues whatsoever—
A shudder ran through him and he resolved to just not think about strawberries and cream, and question his body later when he didn't feel like dying.
He peeled the useless towel off his neck and pushed himself to a sitting position, to look for the other towel, but instead the motion caused two things to happen. His blood pressure decided to take a vacation in Narnia, judging by the black spots blooming in his vision and the way the bed seemed to tilt precariously under him. And the previously ephemeral sense of discomfort suddenly concentrated around his stomach as its contents shifted with an audible glorrrbp that he was sure would wake Julian up.
Fuck.
He considered lying back down, but immediately realized that was not going to help at this point. His heart was racing and his breath came in quick, ragged gasps despite his efforts to try to regulate it. The feeling of vertigo was not letting up and the discomfort was rapidly evolving into full-blown nausea, and it seemed like his stomach contents had taken the motion of sitting up as incentive to try and crawl back up his throat, and—
Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.
"Jul—" he tried to speak but his mouth was rapidly filling with thick, viscous saliva, and he had to stop and make a considerable effort to swallow some of it back down. "Hey, Jules…"
Finally Julian stirred. "Mmmhm?" he mumbled, the mattress tipping again as he also sat up. "What's up? You feeling alright?"
Alex just shook his head with an inarticulate groan, not daring to attempt speaking again. He drew his legs up and pressed his forehead against his knees, hoping to alleviate the overwhelming feeling of faintness that gripped him. His stomach gave another glorrrbp and a sickly burp rolled up that he didn't have the energy to stifle, flooding his mouth with saliva and the taste of—fuck—partially digested strawberries and cream. He felt a glob of drool dribble onto his thigh, which was incredibly gross, but he knew with a sinking certainty that if he tried to move, he was going to hurl, so there wasn't much he could do about it.
Julian, meanwhile, had caught on to the crisis and was already in motion. "Right, okay, fair enough," he murmured as he got out of bed and switched the small lamp on the nightstand on. "I guess we're past the point of getting you into the bathroom…"
Alex's body answered the rhetorical question by objecting to the shifting of the mattress, and a shallow gag shook his body, thankfully not bringing up anything more substantial than a steady flow of drool dripping from his lips. He heard Julian move around the bed and then his hand was on Alex's back, at once grounding and too warm. He felt Julian place something in his lap, unfortunately not a bucket but they weren't exactly in the habit of keeping buckets in the bedroom—
"There," Julian said softly, "I'll go get a bucket but just in case I don't get back fast enough—"
As Julian turned to go, Alex's nose caught the whiff of the still-damp kitchen towel, way, way too close, and that was the last straw. He drew a panicked breath, managed a strangled "Jules—" before his stomach lurched.
The actual vomiting was less violent that he'd have expected; it was like his stomach was so ready to expel its contents that his body didn't need to go to a lot of effort to make it happen. A heave that felt more like a gurgling belch sent a wave of mostly liquid, mushy, almost disturbingly sweet yet foul vomit surging up his throat. As it filled his mouth, for a second he had the misguided impulse to try and hold it in until Julian returned with the bucket, but then the sheer grossness of it overwhelmed him and he was spitting and coughing, his forehead still pressed to his knees and eyes squeezed shut, hoping the towel would be enough to soak the sick.
He heard Julian cussing in multiple languages, none of which sounded like English or Swedish, and it almost made him laugh, but what came out was a pitiful whine, which turned into a cough, which turned into a wet, not-quite-productive belch as more of his stomach contents tried to make an unwanted comeback. "Juh-hhhyuuurbp! …Jules, fuck," he groaned, spitting out more bitter saliva to join the mess soaking the towel and his thighs.
And then Julian was back, gently peeling him from his curled position and taking the soggy towel away. Alex groaned as his stomach protested the movement, but just as body pitched forward again, the bucket appeared in front of him, wedged between his knees.
"Okay," Julian muttered half under his breath, "it's okay, just let it out."
And it's not like Alex had a choice in the matter. His stomach heaved again, making him double over the bucket, gripping its plastic rim with both hands as what felt like an immense amount of vomit surged up his throat and gushed out of him, splattering into the bucket. He could distantly hear Julian say something he couldn't make out, but he felt the hand rubbing circles between his shoulder blades.
"F-fucking… fuck," Alex gasped weakly when his stomach finally gave him a reprieve. He remained slumped over the bucket until Julian's hands on his shoulders coaxed him to sit up again. The motion made his head spin and he listed to the side until Julian shifted closer and guided him to lean against him.
"Yeah," Julian agreed, "that about sums it up…" But his voice was soft and his hand brushing Alex's sweaty hair back from his forehead was gentle. "Do you think you're good to get up? We should get you properly cleaned up."
Alex shuddered as his stomach gave another lazy roll. "Not… not sure I'm done," he muttered and leaned over the bucket to spit out the saliva pooling in his mouth.
"Okay," Julian replied. "No rush."
They remained like that for what felt like forever, minutes stretching out in the silence of the night. Alex's stomach continued to roll queasily, and more than once he leaned over the bucket, certain that it was going to happen, but all that came out was a sickly burp and more drool.
Finally Julian spoke again. "Let's get you into the bathroom," he said. "If you're gonna puke again, you may as well do it there."
The idea of moving was still far from attractive, but Alex couldn't argue against the logic. And besides, he did very badly need a shower. He let Julian move the bucket aside and help him up, groaning as the effort or the motion or both made his stomach roll again. Julian didn't give him time to dwell on the sensation, however. The other man deftly maneuvered Alex out of the bedroom and into the bathroom which, fortunately, was not far.
--
The bathroom was small and, to Julian's eye, looked at least a century old, but Alex said it had been fully renovated some time in the late 70's. The space just fit a toilet, a sink, and instead of a normal shower there was this weird, half-sized bathtub with a seat at one end, so that if you actually filled the tub with water and sat on the seat, the water would come up barely to your waist, which did not seem like an enjoyable way to take a bath.
The space was very much not meant to accommodate multiple people at once, at least not when one was the size of Alex. Julian was not tiny himself, but next to Alex he looked—and felt—positively dainty. Which usually was the opposite of a problem, but maneuvering a dizzy, 190 cm tall beefcake in the cramped space felt just a little bit hazardous.
He somehow got Alex into the tub and sitting down, then realized that the other man was still wearing his vomit-soaked boxers, and Julian had to coax him to stand up again to get them off. Then he started the shower, setting the water temperature just a little cooler than he thought comfortable, and handed the shower head to Alex.
"Think you can manage while I change the sheets?" he asked. The mess had been fairly contained, all things considered, but inevitably some had ended up on the bed. He just hoped it hadn't soaked into the mattress itself or the bedroom was going to be out of order. When Alex nodded, Julian gave him a quick pat on the shoulder. "Right, try not to pass out and drown in the next five or six minutes."
Alex murmured something that might have been 'piss off', which Julian took as a good sign.
He stripped the bed, quick and efficient. His hands shook a little as he stuffed the vomit-stained sheet and towel into a plastic bag; he wasn't too squeamish and he could handle taking care of a sick friend—or whatever Alex was—but he wasn't completely unaffected by the smell, or the other sensory details of the main event. He wasn't sure what to do with the bag, there was no washing machine in the house, but for now he figured he'd just dump it on the porch and let Alex tell him what to do in the morning. He opened the bedroom windows as wide as they'd go, hoping the room would air out sufficiently by the time they were ready to get back to sleep.
He was just in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water, when he heard the unmistakable sound of retching from the bathroom.
He hurried back to find Alex sitting slumped over, elbows on his knees, his forehead resting on his arms as his back arched and his abdominal muscles clenched visibly with another heave. A deep, gurgling retch brought a stream of chunky vomit splattering to the bottom of the tub between—and on—his feet. The shower was still running, at least, and the mess was already getting washed down the drain.
"Hey, easy there, okay," Julian spoke in a low voice as he moved closer and took the shower head from Alex's grip before the other man could drop it. With his other hand he began to rub Alex's back again, feeling the muscles work under the shower-slick skin. "You're okay, just breathe."
A pained groan turned into a retch as another heave shook Alex's powerful frame, this time bringing up just a thin trickle of sick; the next one was unproductive.
"I think you're empty," Julian said as Alex continued to dry heave weakly. "Alex, you're done." He brushed the damp hair back from the other man's forehead and pointed the shower to rinse the last remnants of the mess swirling around the bottom of the tub down the drain. "It's done, just… breathe, man."
Gradually the dry heaves died down and Alex slumped against Julian with a pitiful whine. Julian gathered him into his arms and held him, not caring about his own T-shirt getting soaked in the process.
"Right," he said after a while, "I think it's time to go back to sleep. Well. Drink some water, then back to sleep."
Alex mumbled something unintelligible, but it didn't sound like a protest, and he got up and out of the tub at Julian's prompting. He seemed a little steadier after the shower, and he dried himself and fetched a new pair of boxers without assistance.
They made their way into the kitchen, where Alex sat down heavily at the table and Julian brought him a glass of water. "You holding up okay?" Julian asked as he sat across the table from Alex.
"I'll live," Alex replied between small, cautious sips of water. It was difficult to tell in the gray non-darkness of the summer night, but his color looked considerably better as well.
Julian nodded with a faint smile. "That counts as okay for now."
They sat for a few minutes longer while Alex finished the rest of the water and assured himself that it was going to stay down, and then they headed back to bed, now accompanied by an entire flight of mosquitoes that had taken advantage of the open windows. Alex was too worn out to be bothered by the new, annoying roommates, but Julian was kept awake for a long time by the incessant whining noise they made.
--
Julian did, however, manage to fall asleep eventually, and they both slept soundly enough that neither heard anything out of the ordinary in the early hours of morning. And so neither was prepared for the sight of the plastic bag Julian had left on the porch having been torn to shreds and its contents spread over the grass in the front yard.
Alex took one look at the scene, looked at Julian, then back to the yard. "I think I've had enough of this vacation," he muttered faintly.
leverage ot3 (with a parker/eliot focus at first) (also a brief sophie/nate appearance!!!), 5.3k, G
written (early 🌝) for @whumperless-whump-event day 7: Wrong Place, Wrong Time: Panic attack / Overstimulated / “Get me out of here.”
Once he’s past the arches and he turns around he sees Parker tucked just behind the middle set of red velvet fabric. She’s standing straight and tense, eyes on the floor and knuckles white as she throttles the clutch Sophie had given her to borrow earlier. Eliot picks up the pace.
“Hey,” he says, “sweetheart, what’s—”
Parker looks up at him now, and although the night’s dark by this point and the light of the party is behind her, there’s no missing the tears in her eyes. No missing the paleness in her face either.
“Eliot,” she says, and her voice is just barely above a whisper. “Get me out of here.”
A loud, busy party throws Parker off-balance. Eliot (and eventually Hardison too) helps gets her back upright.
@whumperless-whump-event day 4: falling asleep at work / unknowingly feverish
we already did something like this with milo, so i thought it'd be fun to reverse the roles! no real content warnings, mostly just generic sickfic
Milo has been ignoring it for too long, but they could no longer deny the obvious. They're hungry—famished, they might even have said, if they were prone to overdramatizing—and they neglected to bring lunch to work. They even neglected to bring money in coins instead of cash, so that they could buy something from the vending machine.
They drum their fingers along the table, then sigh and stand up. They'll go talk to Ray. He owes them something, probably, and besides it's not asking that much to ask someone to make change.
They slow down as they approach her desk, blinking. It takes a moment for them to process what's happening. Why was Ray's head down on the desk? Was she…was she sleeping?
Milo felt something akin to excitement, and their feet sped up again. If Ray actually fell asleep at work, after scolding Milo for doing just that for ages…oh, they could feed off blackmail material like that for months.
"Ray, dear," they say, in the sickly-sweet voice Ray uses on them in such situations. "Sleeping on the job, hm?"
They reach out to touch Ray, to shake them back awake, and flinch. "Jesus," they mutter in their normal voice. "You're burning up."
"Mmmh?" Ray blinks awake, slowly, eyes glazed and looking faraway. "Mm…Milo? What're you doing?"
All of Milo's excellent barbs have completely left their mind. "You were asleep," they say.
"What? No I wasn't," Ray says with a great deal of confidence for someone who hasn't yet managed to lift his head from his desk. "That's your thing."
Milo feels a little less sympathetic. "Yes you were," they say crisply. "Are you aware that you have a fever?"
"No I don't," Ray says, looking at Milo like they're an idiot. "It's just kind of warm in here, is all."
"You are hot to the touch," Milo says.
"Nuh uh."
"And you're saying things like 'nuh uh,' when you would normally be much too concerned with your reputation to say something so informal."
Ray blinks at Milo. "…Nuh uh."
Milo sighs. "Okay, come on." They scoop Ray up out of her chair—she makes a startled noise but cuddles into their side without further complaint, which is further evidence that she's really not all there. "Let's get you a drink of water, and I'll see if I have any medication for the fever."
"Don't have a fever," Ray mumbles, head resting on Milo's shoulder. He turns to look up at them. "…Why're you helping?"
