#Head goes 'whumpee recapture'

[jordanstrophe]

CW: Blood loss, cold whump, collapse, open ending capture 

Whumpee gritted their teeth as they collapsed their shoulder against a tree. They huffed a breath of fridge air and looked down at the bloodstain on their shirt. It had grown since they last looked at it, blood was running down and tacking in the snow around their feet. 

They bit down on their folded sleeve and tried to stop the bleeding, hoping the pain and pressure was worth it. They had lost so much blood already... 

Before they could catch themselves, they slid down the tree and collapsed into the snow. They could barely feel the cold, it was only a sting crawling up their skin. 

Suddenly, a hand came from around the tree and clamped over their mouth before they could shout.  

"There you are. Snow really brings out your blood trail."

[eight-littlenightmares]

whump idea: screaming

cw: recapture, screaming, gag, car, references to past trauma, young whumpee, kidnapping, a lot of swearing/vulgar language, ehh stuff like that

***

Whumpee is walking home. It’s been a few weeks since she’s escaped her kidnapper Whumper—she’d been there a couple months, hadn’t even been the worst couple months she’d ever had, especially compared to the other incident—and she’s feeling better.

Or at least that’s what she’s telling herself. Truthfully she’s just as jumpy as always.

And tonight is no exception. In fact she’s feeling even worse tonight. She’s walking home after hanging out with her best friend all day. It had been great, she absolutely loves her best friend, but she’d stayed a little later than she’d meant to and now it’s pretty dark out. She feels strangely paranoid and she’s not quite sure why.

No, she does know why. She’s been jumpy ever since her first kidnapping, two or three years ago. She’d barely started recovering from that when Whumper had kidnapped her, that bastard.

Whumpee starts walking faster. She knows she’s just being stupid and paranoid as always, but she can’t shake the feeling that she’s being watched. And also maybe followed—no, no, she’s being ridiculous.

She’s going to get home just fine, and when she does she is going to sit on a fucking counter to exposure therapy herself. (It hasn’t really done anything other than make her unreasonably anxious yet, but she’s sure it’ll work at some point.)

But then Whumpee feels something. Nothing physical, nothing at all, but just a feeling, a feeling of something being Very Wrong. She can’t help it, she starts to turn around to look—

And then hands are on her.

Someone grabs her around the waist, someone much bigger than her, with rough hands and smelling of cigarette smoke.

Whumpee reacts immediately, shrieking and kicking at her attacker.

“..stop screaming,” a voice whispers into her ear. “I told you I’d find you again.” It’s Whumper’s voice.

Whumpee goes into a fit of terror. HELL NO, she is NOT being kidnapped again, she absolutely will not stand for it. No.

She starts to scream. As loud as she fucking can, screaming her fucking throat raw. She is NOT going back. She is not going ANYWHERE except HOME.

“HELP!!!” Come on. There’s gotta be someone nearby, someone who will wake up or who is already awake, someone who will care enough to save a poor teenager being kidnapped. Right? SOMEONE WILL SAVE HER, RIGHT?

She’s so fucking sick of this. She doesn’t wanna go back and she doesn’t wanna go anywhere with anybody, especially not Whumper. While Whumper isn’t the very worst person she’s ever had to deal with, he’s certainly not someone she ever wanted to see again. Fuck this guy anyways.

“Shut up,” Whumper snaps, glancing around to make sure they’re not being follows as he drags Whumpee towards his car.

Whumpee starts to scream louder. She’s getting more desperate. She will NOT go in that car, she absolutely REFUSES.

And then Whumper pulls a piece of cloth out of his pocket and ties it around Whumpee’s head in a gag. Whumpee struggles uselessly. She tries to scream again but her voice is muffled.

Whumper forces her facedown into the backseat of the car, wrenching her arms painfully behind her back and tying them with a length of rough cord. Whumpee feels tears begin to prick at the back of her eyes as she screams her fucking heart out. It’s not enough. It’s not fucking enough.

The car door slams shut. It sounds like a nail in a coffin. Then Whumper climbs into the front seat and starts the car.

The car starts moving. Whumpee has been kidnapped. Again.

(Hello!! Author’s note!! This is technically a oneshot of one of my OCs, but you can apply it to any character!! I also do not mind if you’d like to reblog and continue the story!!)

edit: changed Whumpee’s pronouns to she/her because she’s supposed to be based off of my OC anyways :D

[deviant-doughnut]

Augusnippets: Day Twenty-Two

Chosen Prompt: Recapture

CW: Discussion of previous violence

The date goes surprisingly well. It’s Whumpee’s first since his rescue two years ago, and he was certain he was awkward and rusty throughout. His date, however, was kindly and talkative, reached across the table to take his hand in the restaurant, then drew back when Whumpee gasped at the contact.

“Was that overstepping?” His date asked immediately. “I’m so sorry. It’s okay if you don’t want me to touch you.”

Whumpee had considered it, fear and excitement going to war beneath his ribs. He told himself the fear was useless, just an aftertaste of that last awful date two years previous. Whumper had seemed charming and saccharine too, then he’d beaten him bloody and kept him locked in a shed, weeks of torture before he was rescued.

“It’s okay,” Whumpee said to his date this evening. He swallowed hard, stared at the man’s hand and then into his eyes. “You…you can touch me. If you could ask me first next time that would be great, but I…I really do want to hold your hand. I-I mean, I’d like to, i-if—“

His date cut him off with a delicate laugh, slipped his hand over Whumpee’s once more. Whumpee fought the urge to shudder. This was normality. It had two years already. He had to get over Whumper. Maybe if he held this man’s hand for long enough, it would erase the lingering echo of how Whumper had touched him the same.

The moment Whumpee realised that, his shoulders eased and his chest felt more open. He hadn’t realised it was difficult to breathe, but suddenly everything was okay. And that was the moment it dawned on him — exactly what he needed to do. He made the plan in his head, quietly, right there at the table as his date stroked his thumb over the backs of his knuckles.

He was going to do everything he needed to do in order to erase Whumper from his muscle memory. He was going to do anything it took. A self exorcism of sorts, after all this treacherous time.

So when his date got shy at the end of the street, it was Whumpee who took the lead. He leaned in, close enough to kiss him without actually doing it.

“Wanna come back to…to my place?” He asked. He meant it, but through all the excitement that was typical of a first date, that glimmer of fear simply would not dull. It sat beneath his ribs and gnawed at him. It sparked in the periphery of his vision. His date smiled, and Whumpee blushed fiercely in response.

“I’d love to,” he said, and so they had. They’d walked together, hand in clammy hand back to Whumpee’s place, his flat tucked away in a quiet part of town — safe. He unlocked the door, switched on all the lights as he went. This was his routine, to eliminate as many of the shadows crowding into his home as possible. It was habit now. His date watched him but said nothing, no trace of judgement for it on his face. Light switch by light switch, Whumpee led his beautiful date into his bedroom. He hadn’t had anyone in here since he moved here. Part of him wondered if he should share this information, a sort of preemptive apology for any ineptitude that may arise as a result of recent inexperience. He remembered a television show in which one character asked another if something vital had changed in the act of sex. The same irrational fear sang through him, but he was groping for the light switch that would flush the darkness from his bedroom, and it was much too late for all that. He would just, he supposed, have to hope for the best.

He switched the light on, and all the air went out of the room.

He noticed the outlier immediately, this thing that was not in its place. He blinked at the letters on the wall, crude lines in thick red pen, the white wall behind his bed vandalised, ruined. It took him longer to process the words, his lungs turned to stone, his blood running cold. There, on the wall above his bed, read two simple words, in a scrawl so crude it was chilling.

Found You

“Oh God,” he whispered, pulse pounding through his body now, ricocheting badly enough that he trembled. The whole world tipped off balance, and this time, when his date touched him, he did no relent when Whumpee flinched. The hand on his bicep simply tightened. Another aimed hard and fast at his face, a terrible, deafening punch.

Whumpee blacked out near immediately. When he woke, he had the sense that mere seconds had passed, supported by the fact he was still on his bedroom floor, wet with the blood that streamed from his nose, and a pain that seared cruelly through his skull, like ragged fingernails against the bone.

“What…” he breathed, the only word he could get out. His eyes found his date, trailed up the length of him to find him grinning down at him. Only then was his gaze caught by a shadow — another thing that should not have been there. In the doorway stood a figure, tall and muscular, broad enough to fill the doorway. The shape of him was instantly recognisable — as was the way the air changed with his presence, the way Whumpee’s fear spilled out of his body and infected the air around him as he gasped and trembled, choked on his own breath. The figure in the doorway laughed at him, the sound distant, muffled by concussion or perhaps a fractured skull. And although his vision swam, Whumpee saw the curve of his smirk, saw the hungry spark in his eyes, and remembered the first time he’d peered up at that exact sight. Two years younger, innocent in a way he never would be again, with no idea what was waiting in store for him.

He did not have that luxury this time.

-

Thanks to @augusnippets for this event!

[silly-scroimblo-whump]

Anti-Bullying

augusnippets day 22: captivity/recapture/tearful goodbye

cw: child whumpee, animal cruelty, fighting, bullying, implied child abuse :( URGF marcie and teddy make me so emotional bro…. (note that teddy is ftm! he’s just… not aware that being trans is a thing yet. this is when he was like eight years old. i just feel awful misgendering him or deadnaming him EVER. the bullies here aren’t transphobic or anything dw i don’t like writing that stuff😭) masterlist! ————————— “Let it go! Hey—-” Teddy cries out, tears streaming down his face as the kids on the playground continue to giggle and tap on the lunchbox. In its transparent interior is a small lizard. Its tail has long since dropped off, and the children are squealing as they each try to pick it up, only for it to squirm out of their hands. “Let it—”

Another student — the eldest of the group — grins, pushing Teddy towards the lunchbox and into the circle of gleeful kids. “Look, look! It’s like her! Its tail is gone,” He points, “And.. and her eye is too!”

Teddy sniffles, batting his classmates’ hands away from the lunchbox as he hugs it close to his chest. “My sis’s gonna get really mad. She’s strong. She’s really strong, and she’s gonna… um..”

The boy who pushed him snickers, shaking his head. “Boys are stronger. Marcie smells yucky and looks ugly, and so do you. Us boys are betterer.” He beams, sticking his tongue out at Teddy.

… The boy then goes flying. Teddy watches as the bully shrieks shrilly, a blur of brown, black, and white sending him to the ground. Teddy checks that the lizard is still secure before frantically scooting away from the fight.

The teachers finally seem to notice the commotion, rushing over and pulling the feral creature off of Teddy’s nemesis. “Let me at him! I’ll fucking rip his throat out!” Marcie yells, swinging her fists rapidly at the teachers and ignoring their pleas to keep her language appropriate. “I’ll kill him if he ever says that shit again!” Teddy watches in mortified admiration, eventually being guided away by another teacher. ————————— taglist! let me know if u wanna be added! :3

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Same Bed: Reunion

CW: Intimate whumper, creepy whumper POV, noncon touching, some brief vague references to past dubcon/noncon, derogatory language/dehumanizing language, whumpee recaptured, drugging

 The Same Bed: Part One: Jake | Part Two: Krista | Part Three: Chris | Part Four: Vincent | Part Five: Antoni | Interlude | Part Six: Nat | Part Seven: Owen | Part Eight: Tonight | Part Nine: Reunion |

-

When Owen arrives, Kauri is sitting on a park bench. 

The setting sun is a brilliant bloody red. You can��t smell the smoke from the wildfires in San Francisco, they’re farther away than that and the wind isn’t blowing the right direction, but you can see them reflected in the sunsets and the wisps of clouds that try to block it out. The light has an eerie orange-gold quality, and Owen pulls into a parking spot and just sits, looking over the man who ran from him almost ten years ago.

Light like this calls for a soundtrack, some low and rumbling. Building tension for the killer to leap out of the nearby bushes. But the only soundtrack is the radio, playing a cheery 80's dance-pop song Owen only vaguely recognizes.

It's jarring, unsettling, and he turns the radio off entirely.

Sitting on a park bench next to the path, a scattering of trees behind him and a field of grass whispering to itself as the blades shift in the salt-sea breeze, is Kauri. The bay is vaguely audible, somewhere close by but not quite in sight, not from here. Just a soft rush of water, reminding the world that it is here, cutting away the land, second by second pulling sand back to itself, deep into the sea.

Kauri’s jaw is less soft and subtle now, it looks carved nearly from stone. His hair falls in the usual messy mop of wild black curls, but it’s a little shorter than it used to be. Back then, Owen decided his hair’s length and style, he had liked it longer than this.

Too bad there probably won’t be time to grow it out again.

He sits with his hands in his lap, spine straight, wearing an oversized hoodie and charcoal-black jeans with holes worn in the knees, battered and beat-up black-and-white checked shoes on his feet. He looks… so much like Vince. Or like Vince’s homeless younger brother, fallen on hard times. 

“That’s him?” Hanson’s voice breaks Owen out of his reverie. 

“That’s him,” Owen confirms. His hands are gripped white-knuckle tight to the steering wheel. He has to carefully uncurl his fingers one by one by one by one, aching as the tension is released. “He’ll have someone around, so keep an eye out. Probably the one fucking him. Easy to get too attached once you’ve had your dick in my Kor-Bore.”

There’s a pause, and then Hanson says, “Clearly,” in a carefully neutral voice.

Owen ignores the flare of rage at the judgment he’s sure Hanson is hiding. It doesn’t matter - he’ll have both his Vinces soon enough, he can give Hanson the last third of his payment and never see him again. He looks around, carefully, and sees a beat-up car a few spots down with a man inside. He doesn’t know the guy, not from this angle and from this far away, but he knows the boiling rage that opens and closes the man’s hands. He knows the intensity of the stare leveled Kauri’s way. 

“There he is,” Owen murmurs, and Hanson nods. He gets out of the passenger side, a hand on the gun carefully worn at his belt, ready to draw. Owen has one, too, just in case - not that he’s great with guns, but he does well enough. Goes to the range every week or so, tries to unload his stress there. 

It doesn’t help.

Not until he started picturing Vince’s face with every pull of the trigger.

When Owen steps out of the car, straightening up and heading that direction, Kauri’s pretty blue eyes swing to him. His hands tighten into fists where they sit carefully on his thighs, his shoulders lower and his chin raises. But Owen thinks he sees Kauri’s jaw trembling, just a little bit. 

How much will he shake, later, under Owen’s hands? How hard will he fight for air? It won't make any difference. He'll still be Owen's, in the end, right to the very last second and even afterward.

“Hey, Kor-Bore,” Owen says, keeping his voice casual, uncaring. He watches the shudder run through Kauri’s body from head to toe with a mix of delight and irritation - Kauri used to love that nickname. Didn’t he?

Didn’t he always say he loved it?

“Where’s Nat?” Kauri asks, instead of greeting him. He doesn’t move from the bench, but his eyes flicker to the side and back, catching the sight of Hanson lurking, watching the other car without trying to hide it. “You-... you said-”

“When I get you back,” Owen says, putting his hands up, showing how harmless he is, never mind the gun tucked into the back of his pants under his shirt. “Then we drive her and her pet to the outskirts of Berras and dump her at a bus stop.”

“He’s not her pet-”

“Shut up, I’m talking. Are you supposed to interrupt me? Were you trained to interrupt me, Romantic?"

Kauri swallows, hard. Owen watches his Adam’s apple bob. “... no.”

“Damn straight. In any case, you’ll be busy, but don’t worry, Kauri, you know I don’t mind letting you get in a goodbye. And you know I don’t want to kill anyone, or hurt anyone, if I can just have you. No one else has to get hurt if you come along with me.”

“You’ll hurt me, though.”

“Yeah.” Owen smiles, flashing perfect white teeth, obscenely perfect, in a wide smile. “I will. But just until I’m done.”

"When you're... when you're done?"

"Yeah. But then you won't hurt anymore, so that's good, right?"

"Sure." Kauri's voice is faint, and he has to clear his throat to find it again. His head tips to one side. "And... and Vince? Will you hurt him, too?"

“Too late for that, you should see what he looks like right now. Fucking hot shit like blood running down his face, you know? Just like I remembered... but nobody else gets hurt. Just you two." He holds out a hand, like when he would urge Kauri out of bed, folding those long thin fingers in his own larger hand, pulling Kauri to him for a good morning kiss, enjoying the soft laughter he’d receive and thinking of Vince, wondering why Vince never laughed that way, with him. 

Sometimes he’d push Kauri right back into bed and slot himself between those pretty legs, feel Kauri’s ankles hook behind his back, and listen to him laugh and moan and whimper and beg. It had been an amazing way to start the day.

Kauri’s eyes close, slowly. He takes a deep breath.

Owen wonders if he’s thinking about the mornings, too. How much fun they'd had, before Kauri got all those fucking ideas and took them all way too far.

Kauri pushes himself up to his feet, moving forward with the inevitability of any death, and puts his hand in Owen’s.

His fingers are cold.

Owen pulls them to his lips, breathing hot and feeling them twitch in his grip. “Your man over there going to try and fuck this up?” He asks, in a whisper. He kisses Kauri’s fingertips one by one, and his eyes are locked on the wide, warm blue.

Almost identical to Vince.

Almost.

He’ll cut them out, he thinks, before he lets Kauri die. Only Vince should get to die with those eyes. 

“No,” Kauri whispers. 

Dark eyelashes lay long enough to just brush his cheek when he closes his eyes. One black curl hangs over his thick eyebrow on one side, breaking the line of his pale forehead. Owen leans forward to kiss the little furrow between his eyes, just above his nose.

Kauri’s nose wrinkles, but he doesn’t pull away. “He knows how important Nat is.”

“More important than you,” Owen says, voice low. He trails his mouth down, pressing a kiss to the tip of Kauri’s nose, to his cheek. He keeps it all light, grazing, just enjoying Kauri’s stillness, his acceptance. 

“More important than me,” Kauri agrees, and when Owen pulls back there’s a slight, sad, wry smile on his beautiful face. “She’s saved a lot of lives, Owen. I’m just-... just-”

“Just a whore with delusions of grandeur,” Owen finishes for him, cutting him off and pressing a thumb to his lower lip. 

“I-I wouldn’t have phrased it that way-” Owen pushes the thumb into his mouth and it cuts off his words, makes him choke and gag a little before he pulls it back out.

“Doesn’t matter. I paid for a slut, and you stayed one, huh? I mean, look at you. How much are you fucking the guy in the car?”

“... as often as he wants to.” Kauri, the little shit, doesn’t even look ashamed of himself for it.

"And who else?"

"Jesus, is this really the time-"

"I said, who else?"

“Him. Antoni." Kauri's eyes suddenly flare into a wildness, a defiance that sends rage boiling through Owen's blood. "Chris. Everybody, I fuck anybody and everybody, Owen, that's how much I fucking love being away from you. It's been, what, about a hundred guys in the past ten years or so? Maybe two hundred? Or three?” Kauri’s lips twist, and it’s like he’s trying to hold it back but can’t. Like he can’t stop himself. “Can't even keep them all straight, I don't even know what half of their names were any longer. They bought me drinks and I paid the way you trained me to pay, didn't I? Spread my legs, because I couldn't read and I couldn't get a job and I couldn't-... do anything else! You paid for a slut, right, you told me that all the time. You paid for a fucking whore who couldn’t say no, what the fuck did you think I would do if I escaped you? Illiterate sluts can’t exactly spend their time playing Scrabble, now can they? What was I supposed to do to stay alive, Owen?! What did you think-”

Owen grabs his throat, thumb pressing into the racing pulse under his jaw, watching his eyes widen in alarm and his defiance cut off like a switched-off radio. Hearing the soft cry of surprise and fear that escapes around his constricted airway. His hands come up to grab at Owen’s, at his wrist, scrabbling and digging bitten fingernails in, but he was never strong enough to stop him and that, at least, hasn’t changed. 

“I never liked it when you got a tone with me, Kor-Bore,” He says, leaning forward until his forehead rests against Kauri’s. Until his wide blue eyes take up all of his vision, until he knows his own eyes are all that Kauri can see. He watches Kauri blink, rapidly, watches a tear run down his cheek on one side and then the other. "And I sure as fuck don't like you holding all that shit up to brag about it."

"I-I'm sorry-" Kauri whimpers, and Owen feels that familiar heat in his stomach again, pleasure just at the sound of his fear. "I'm sorry, Mr. Owen, I'm sorry-"

Behind him, he hears a car door slam. “Hey!” A deep voice calls out. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Stay right the fuck where you are,” Hanson snaps. “Get back in your fucking car.”

“I’m not here so I can watch him choke Kauri out right here, asshole!”

“I said get back in your fucking car!”

“Oh, Prince Charming got pissed off,” Owen teases, and there - for just a second, there’s anger again in Kauri’s eyes. But it’s gone as fast as it came, replaced by the fear.

Always, by the fear.

Owen loves the fear. He always did, even when he pretended otherwise. It had felt so good to see Vince afraid of him, over and over and over again, afraid and unable to escape like he had in real life. To reenact the story, and this time have it end Owen’s way, with someone beautiful in bed, underneath him, existing in a kind of limbo until he walked in the door. 

Winking out of existence whenever Owen wasn’t looking directly at him. Curling into a ball whenever he wasn’t wanted. 

“I’m sorry,” Kauri whispers, “That I s-spoke to you that way. Just-... just get me in the car, please. I want to see-... to say g-goodbye to Nat. I’ve already said goodbye to-... to him. Them."

“Right. One second. Just need to check…” Owen lets go, and works his hands into Kauri’s hair, fingers over his scalp. He works his way down to his neck, noting the way his pale skin is already reddening from Owen’s brief grip on it, and then he pats him down, along the arms and the sides. He lingers a little longer around the hips than altogether necessary, maybe lets his hand stray while he’s touching the insides of his thighs. Kauri holds perfectly still for him, eyes closed now.

He accepts the touch, but he doesn’t enjoy it.

He’s ruined for that, Owen thinks, but that’s okay. Kauri isn’t supposed to survive very long after he gets him back to Vince’s house anyway.

He doesn’t find any hidden weapons. Not even a phone. 

Owen stands back up, leading Kauri to his car, opening the passenger door for him to slip inside. Once he’s there as well, he twists around to pull a box out of the backseat and flips open the top. Kauri sits with his hands in his lap again, staring fixedly at the bench he was on. Somewhere nearby, the bay is sparkling with reflected embers, the last hints of red light fading into the starless night.

He has to turn the dash light on, and watches Kauri jerk when he sees what’s inside the little cardboard box. “Owen-”

“It’s Mr. Owen, Kor-Bore.” Owen pulls the syringe out. It’s pre-loaded, he and Hanson had made sure it would be ready to go. The liquid inside is suspiciously, alarmingly clear. It could be anything. It could be death itself, and Kauri won’t know until he feels it in his veins. 

“I-... Mr. Owen, what is-... I’m not going to try and run-... pl-please don’t-”

“Shut the fuck up. It’s a five-hour drive where we’re going, Kor-Bore, and you’re going to take a little nap for the journey.” He taps, making sure there aren’t any bubbles. “Take out that little packet and wipe the inside of your elbow with it. How long since you’ve had a needle in your arm, huh?”

Kauri’s jaw tightens, briefly, and then he looks away, opening the single-use antiseptic wipe and drawing it across the inside of his right elbow, eyes closed. He shivers at the feeling. “Since I-... since the last… since my surgery.”

“Really? You never got into any of the hard shit while you were slutting it up all over California?”

“Not needles. Only-... only pills, drinking...”

“Good choice. I’d just kill you right now if you got into that dirty needle shit. Here we go.” Owen takes Kauri’s arm in his hand, pulling it out straight. Kauri closes his hand into a fist as Owen ties it off below his bicep and feels for the vein. He knows how to do this, sort of, in theory. He’s acted in some medical shows, played a drug addict a time or two, and he’s had it done to him for blood draws at the doctor. 

The needle slides into the skin easily enough, and he’s about… seventy percent sure he definitely hit the vein.

He depresses the plunger, and Kauri gasps, eyes opening wide, whites around the pretty blue. “It’s-... that’s from WRU-”

“Cold as shit when they go in, huh?” Owen laughs, and discards the needle back into the box, dumping the whole thing into the backseat. A drop of red blood sits at the crease of Kauri’s elbow, nearly black in the near-darkness, the dash light the only thing that adds a hint of red. Owen wipes it away and rubs it off on Kauri’s cheekbone, smearing a streak of red there through the drying tear tracks. “They do that on purpose, you know. It’s part of the development process. They want you to know you’re being drugged.”

Kauri licks at his lips, pulling his arm back to his side. “I know… I know that. My handler... my handler told me that."

“All right, Kor-Bore. Here we go.” His pretty Vince clone sits, silently, as Owen buckles him safely into his seatbelt. He stares back at the park bench when Owen’s hand touches his face and does nothing more than shiver a little when Owen’s fingers trace the side of his neck, find his collarbone, toy with the neckline of his hoodie. Owen has to pull it down to see the twisted scar. 

“Was it worth it?” Owen asks, voice low. He leans forward and his lips move against Kauri’s hair. Soft, the heat of his body warming them when you get close to his scalp. Owen inhales deeply, the scent of Kauri’s inexpensive shampoo and whatever product he’s using these days. Kisses down to his earlobe, toying with a piercing there, lips around the small black hoop. “Going on TV, telling everybody all that bullshit, was it worth it? Was it worth it, to have to come back home with me?”

Kauri holds still for him, even when Owen’s hand drops, even when it moves between his legs, palming him idly. He even spreads his knees apart, slightly, in an easy conditioned obedience that he’s never entirely lost. “Seventy-eight,” He says, voice hoarse.

“What?” Owen’s hand pauses, a weight pressing over the fly of Kauri’s jeans. He pulls back and away from his ear.  

“That’s how many people have been released since we did it. Another sixty-something investigations, they’ll probably get freed, too. There’s a law they’re going to pass making it not illegal anymore to help us. Making what Nat does, what Jake does… legit. Hell, they even found that one guy from Germany who was some guy’s homemade pet because of it a couple weeks ago.” Kauri shakes his head. “Chris is safe now, too. Really, truly safe. It was worth it.”

“But you aren’t safe.”

“No, but... but I wasn't going to be. It wasn't about making me safe, I lied about that. I lied to Jake, I knew I wasn’t ever safe. Not with you still… still looking for me. I wasn’t ever safe.”

“No. I never stopped looking for you.” Owen’s voice is low and loving, but Kauri doesn’t react to it like he used to. Those big eyes don’t search his for sincerity, he doesn’t blush or smile or seem pleased. He only tips his head back against the seat, slowly closing his eyes. 

“I know,” He says. “It’s-... it’s kickin’ in, now. Just take me wherever you’re going. Just get it over with.”

Something about this isn’t right - Kauri was supposed to fight more than this, maybe. Or show more feeling, more emotion. This isn’t the script Owen had written. Instead, the drug makes him limp and he looks like he’s being dragged to a concert for a band he doesn’t like, not taken somewhere to go right back to the life he was designed for, made for, at least until Owen is done with him.

 It’s with irritation that he rolls his window down. “Hanson, get in the car. We’re going.”

Hanson backs up until he’s at the door and gets in with the gun still in his hand. Owen looks over and sees a tall, muscular blond man leaning back against the hood of his own beat-up little junker of a shitty car, arms crossed, watching them. 

Just... staring, as Owen backs up and out of the spot. Then he stands up, and walks with deliberate slowness to his own driver’s side door as Owen pulls out of the small parking lot, leaving him behind.

“Make sure he doesn’t follow us,” Owen says, under his breath. Hanson nods and twists around to look out the back windshield. But no headlights pull out behind them. Nothing happens.

They’re on the interstate in minutes, headed south, back towards Hollywood. They don’t notice an entirely different car that falls in with them, because it isn’t the car they’re watching for or any of the ones they've taken care to find out about over the past few weeks prepping for this. Just another vehicle on the road. 

Beside him, Kauri’s breath goes slow and deep, and he slips under, the sedatives helping him into a heavy, unnatural sleep. He looks already dead, like this, except for the rise and fall of his chest. 

It’s a practice run.

Owen takes glances at him, so he can kind of… prepare, for what it’s going to look like when even that chest isn’t moving any longer. Thinking over how he’ll arrange him, then, where he’ll keep him until he’s done with Vince, too. 

“What do you think?” Hanson asks, settling back in to relax now that the initial danger is passed. Owen has to shake himself out of his daydream. “That guy going to leave us alone?”

“Oh, fuck no. He’s fucking Kauri, he won’t want to give that up. Kauri probably told him to go my condo, go rescue him there. I guarantee he’s going to drive like the goddamn devil and thinks he’ll surprise me when we get there.” He laughs, switching lanes without a signal, earning an angry honk from an SUV behind him. He flips his middle finger up automatically, even though it’s dark and she almost certainly can’t see him do it. 

“He knows where your condo is?”

“Yeah, I bet he does. I mean. They’re not that hard to find.” Owen shrugs. “But that’ll be their plan. Pretend to be all good and easy like he used to be, and then a big strong man comes to save him.” He chuckles, dropping one hand to rest it on Kauri’s thigh. There’s no resistance, nothing but the slow and steady breathing beside him.

“Oh, Kor-Bore… You’re going to be so surprised,” Owen whispers to himself with a smile. “When I get you in that door and you realize it’s not my house I took you to. Who's going to save you when your Prince Charming goes to the wrong fucking house?"

Kauri’s head tips to the side, he hitches in a breath and exhales. Owen looks back at the road.

He doesn’t see the way Kauri smiles, reflected against the window. 

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @thefancydoughnut @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @hackles-up @grizzlie70 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @keeper-of-all-the-random-things

[ha-ha-one]

okay, let me explain-

I have wanted to do oc shit for some time but I did not think it would be good enough/weird/out of nowhere, but fuck it. I’m putting it in the drabbles for now cuz I don’t feel like committing to a series yet. Idk, I’ll see how this goes.

[cw: recapture, referenced captivity, referenced tortutre, intimate/creepy whumper, defiant whumpee turned sad whumpee, fucked up mentality by whumpee, self-destructive behaviour (alcohol abuse), noncon (?) touch (non-sexual), crying, alcohol, lmk if i missed anything]

//

The rough stone wall of the alleyway grinds against his back as he slides down to the ground. Lucas was barely holding onto his consciousness, his vision blurry and unfocused, heavy breaths creating fog from the cold environment. His hands shake, one gripping a leaking bottle of beer. 

Since he left William’s place, it had been a struggle for Lucas to keep going. He was exhausted from sleepless nights serving the man who owned him, hurt from the relentless beatings he received, and angry at himself.

Angry because he cries, angry because he shakes, angry because he runs from his problems, angry because he’s weak and afraid and yearns for someone to take care of him.

But he’s alone.

He’s alone in an alleyway in the cold night. Drowning in alcohol to escape the pathetic reality that is his life.

Lucas closes his eyes, tears starting to run down his cheeks, and he lets it happen. He cries, curling up and hiding his head between his knees. He runs his free hand through his blonde curls, then gripping it with such force that he feels some locks being ripped out of his scalp. It all hurts; his head, his chest, his arms and legs. It hurts so much and he hates it.

He doesn’t know how much time passed, for how long he sat there, but it felt like an eternity. A painful eternity of misery and anger.

And before he could calm down, an unfortunately familiar voice startled him.

“Well, look who we have here…”

He is brought back to the present, to the sight of a tall man a few feet away. The man from his nightmares, the man who Lucas had to serve for months and who he thought he would never see again.

“W-William…” Lucas breathes, his voice raw and shaky. He quickly wipes the tears off his cheeks and throws the bottle further into the alley.

William walks toward the younger man, a condescending smile on his face that Lucas unfortunately recognised. His steps are slow but confident, his dress shoes contrasting with the dirty gravel. 

“What are you doing here, darling? All alone in a place so dangerous.” He coos, and Lucas shivers when he crouches in front of him.

Too close too close too close too close–

“None of your business…”

“Everything about you is my business, Lucas. Have you forgotten your rules?”

William grabs Lucas’s knees, slowly lowering them and revealing the man’s dishevelled face. He brushes blonde locks out of his face and cups his cheeks, caressing it with his thumb.

And Lucas lets him, to his own surprise. He hates William; hates him for his snobbish smugness, hates him for how fucking egocentrical he is, hates him for what he put him through. 

But he’s so lonely, he thrives for company… so he lets William touch him as he pleases. He lets himself be pulled into a hug, a hand on his hair and back. He lets himself be fondled and caressed, like they were a couple reuniting after years without each other.

A part of him wants to kick him away, scream at him to fuck off and run as far as he could. A part of him still wants to prove to the man that he won’t listen to him, he will not submit.

It’s too late for that now. He’s exhausted and hurt, he’s scared and miserable. 

He’s broken, and William knows that.

“Let’s go home, hm?”

//

(part 2 here)

tags: @oddsconvert

[just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

Masterlist of Masterlist

Active - ✅ Want to work on - ⏸ Not active - ⭕

Nik [Masterlist] ✅

Ever the one to sacrifice himself, Nik makes a deal with a sorcerer to keep his people safe. Little does he know that his cooperation was never required; just the magic that runs through his veins.

- Magic Whump - Captivity - Magical Exhaustion - Emotional Whump - Angst -

Hilton [Masterlist] ⏸

Anything can be warped, including self-preservation mechanisms. Hilton can see the future when in pain or distress, but the Southwest Crime Syndicate has their hands on him now, and they intend to use him however they see fit. Undercover agent Griffin Marshalls is there with him, but how long can he protect him without hurting him, too?

- Superpower Whump - Magical Exhaustion - Reluctant Whumper/Caretaker Forced to be Whumper -

Parker [Masterlist] ⏸

Safe havens can still be conquered. Parker, a person with regenerative powers, was taken and forced into unethical experimentation against their will.

- Superpower Whump - Lab Whump - Healing Whumpee - Medical Whump - NB Whumpee -

Brody [Masterlist] ✅

Brody is a pet, and he’s trying his hardest to be good. So much happens to him - kidnapping, a found family, recapture, retraining, a road trip, and many many Au's.

- Pet Whump - Touch-starved Whumpee - Conditioned Whumpee - Multiple Whumpers -

Rudy and Clyde [Masterlist] ✅

The stories of the personal pets of a pet trainer.

- Pet whump - Fully conditioned Whumpees -

Silver [Masterlist] ⏸

Only about 8 inches tall, but ready to defend himself from whatever is thrown at him. Captured from his forest home and used as a prize in a carnival game, Silver tries to bit his way out of his circus situation.

- Tiny Whump - Non-human Whumpee - Circus Whump - Multiple Whumpees -

Tool [Masterlist] ✅

JJ Was a Star student, head of every club and every class. They were the last person you'd expect to be taken and stripped of everything that makes him themself. But the Mechanic, a twisted mind obsessed with control, saw them as the perfect test subject for his newest invention...

Major warnings for a more intense story. Please heed the warnings on the masterlist and the individual pieces.

- The Machine - loss of bodily autonomy - controlling Whumper - Sadistic Whumper -

The Lonely House [Masterlist] ⏸

Teddy is kept alone in the attic by a man who wants to replace what he lost. But one boy is not the same thing as another, and the isolation is the heaviest pain of them all.

- Isolation - Kidnaped Whumpee - Parental Whumper -

Domestic Apocalypse [Tag] [Shared Masterlist] ⏸

When the world goes to shit, the real assets are the domestic people that make it run behind the scenes. Cooks and farmers and electricians. A group makes their way across the wasteland under armed guards - who are more than thrilled to find community with them. (Bad things will eventually happen but it's really fluffy for now)

Current: - Fluff -

Future: - Group of whumpees - forced labor - captivity -

Jordan [Tag] [Shared Masterlist] ⭕

What do you do if you really want to be an artist, but have no skill? Kidnap one and take credit for the work you force them to do of course! But Jordan won't make it so easy for you.

- Captivity - Forced Labor - Defiant Whumpee -

Fish Outta Water [Writing Tag] ⭕

This Mer is curious about humans. What better way to learn than take one for himself? It doesn't hurt that with his telepathic powers, every aspect of Kai's mind and free will is under Callaghan's control.

- Magical/Non-Human Whumper - Hidden Whump - Intimate Whumper -

River and Luke [Masterlist] ⭕

River, a vampire, finds out where their food supply had comes from and is appalled. They take the poor thing, Luke, home with them for healing. But how can Luke trust them after everything the others have already done to him?

- Vampire Caretaker - Bumbling Caretaker - Conditioned Whumpee - Recovery with some flashbacks -

o2 [Masterlist] ✅

Len likes little lap pets. The soft ones that don't struggle or squirm or move. Or Can't, in little o2's case. With constrictive collars and corsets and straps, every second of o2's existence is spent struggling for air.

- Suffocation - Intimate Whumper - Captivity -

Mark Davies (Not active) [Masterlist] ⭕

World famous popstar, Mark Davies seems to have the perfect life. Perfect, apart from the constant pressure to be perfect, to act like a person. The headaches, the itch from where his collar should be, the exhaustion when he just wants to be the pet he was trained to be.

- Box Boy Universe - Referenced Implied Noncon - Pet Whump - BBU

[whumpqin]

A feather for Caleb, you may do anything you wish with it and let’s roll a d20 for it! Cant wait to see where this goes 👀👀

Sure thing :)

From these sets of prompts! (Still open! Send some if you want!)

CW: pet whump, creepy/intimate whumper, touch starvation, collars, bruises mention, nudity, eye whump mention (talked about), defiant whumpee, nonhuman whumpee, chained up/bound, conditioning, brainwashing, burn scars, recapture

Content under the cut!

The feeling was deceptively gentle as it grazed against Caleb’s leg, making his skin itch and crawl underneath the surface. A muted whimper slipped out of his nose as his limb jerked and rattled the chains attached to his ankle. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t get away from the relentless draw of a careful feather.

Aridai lifted the feather up - a striped brown and white color, something they had found in the courtyard left by a bird smart and capable enough to get away before they could catch it - and drew its tip against Caleb’s lower stomach. He gasped as his stomach twitched to avoid the feeling. His toes splayed open, kneading the air as he tried to squirm out of his bindings. Caleb breathed heavy pants through his nose, closing his eye as Aridai chuckled.

“Stop. Stop, pl-please,” he muttered, half whined, lifting his head so the collar wouldn’t choke his words and feeling how the leash, tied to the headboard of the bed, pulled taut. Caleb was largely ignored, and the feather made circles around his belly button, forcing another pitiful whine out of him. “Get-get off! G-get off of mm-me!” Caleb writhed in his bindings, flicking his tail towards Aridai in hopes that it would connect.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to speak, pet,” Aridai cooly remarked, sitting up straight to avoid Caleb’s lashing tail. “Maybe if you’re good for me, Caleb. Maybe then I’ll stop.”

“Go to hell,” he hissed. Caleb jerked his leg again but was unable to avoid the way the striped feather was drawn upwards, drifting across his chest.

“I’ve already been there. See, got the marks to prove it and all,” they said, tilting their head to emphasize the large burn scars that littered one side of their face. Aridai’s expression soured into a cold gaze. “You’re so goddamn lucky I haven’t ripped that other eye out, Caleb. Be a good boy and I won’t have to. So again, did I give you permission to fucking speak?”

Caleb swallowed thickly and held his tongue. Aridai made good on their threats. He knew not to test them like he could with Jeremiah. Instead he shook his head, feeling his pulse quicken in his chest.

Aridai smiled softly, and it didn’t reach their eyes. “That’s the first good thing you’ve done since we got you back, pet.”

Their head angled downwards, and they sighed, drawing the feather against Caleb’s skin again. He could feel the tip run across the hills that were his ribs, sending chills up his spine that made him shudder. It was a much gentler touch than Jeremiah had given him, less bruising and aiming to hurt. As much as he tried not to, his back arched into it with the hope he'd get more of it.

Aridai let out an amused huff and drew the feather away and down, against the bruises of his bare hips. No matter how hard they pressed it was still soft and gentle, enough to make Caleb whine from how it felt. It was agonizing, the cold caressing touch that only granted a whisper of the warmth he could have and wasn’t given.

They seemed to know this, too, indulging Caleb just enough so that he would beg for more. He was desperate and Aridai wanted him that way. All Caleb could do was hope they would get tired of him eventually and leave him alone.

“You know, Jeremiah is right. You do look pretty when you’re like this,” Aridai said, as tears sprung to Caleb’s eyes and his face flushed with shame.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

“A colossal fuck-up, that’s what this was.” -For Peter and/or Karen please! (Avie)

CW: Pet whump, Karen Renford, sadistic whumper, poor Peter, blood, bruises, recaptured whumpee

(Micheal - briefly mentioned - belongs to @card-games-and-pain)

“In the end,” Karen says, sitting back on her brand new pristine white couch, legs crossed at the knee, wearing a soft off-the-shoulder sweater and loose slacks that in no way made her look any less severe, “it was a colossal fuck-up on everyone���s part. Everyone’s.”

Peter, kneeling on the floor before her in an easy, unconscious Position Two, nods without taking his eyes off her face. He’s aged a bit - five years, right at the time of his life when his early twenties became his later twenties, when the lines of his face begin to settle and harden - but those big brown eyes, liquid and worried, are just the same.

He buckled his own collar back around his neck. Her Peter - he’d been waiting for her to come for him, had never doubted she could and would. In the end, the failed pet had become the only one who didn’t try to run from her when her net closed on him.

In the end, her least-favorite pet had become the best one.

“The company should have been able to handle the heat - and they couldn’t. I should have had better plans in place for the potential of someone like the mongrel making himself an even larger thorn in my side. Luke should have had immunity that meant he didn’t lose his job... I shouldn’t have lost track of any of you, not even for a second.” 

She sighs and holds out the crop, using the end of it - still with a bit of Peter’s blood smeared across it - to lift his chin up even higher. One of her own designs, available for an added fee for WRU’s clientele, it has a slim blade tucked between the layers of leather, one that cuts only when angled just so. 

She gave classes to the handlers on how to train with it. 

Peter had started fighting tears the second he’d seen it in her hand.

She watches his chest move with his breath, the welts across it deep and dark, some still weeping drops of red that run slowly down his stomach, tributaries of the river she creates. 

He’ll scrub the blood from the floor, later. For now, she enjoys the sight of it, puddling slowly as she continues to remind herself that no matter what she has lost - nearly everything, all of it, her entire life - she hasn’t lost him.

She hasn’t lost this.

“It took me four years to find you, and it shouldn’t have taken even one,” She murmurs.

Peter swallows, his chin marked now with the blood she’s already torn from his chest, trembling faintly as his eyes are forced up towards the ceiling by the simple bit of wrapped leather she holds in her hands. “M-Madam?”

“Yes? Position Nine, Peter.”

He arches his back, forcing his arms back behind himself and folding them at the elbows. Her pretty canvas of welts, growing bruises, of wounds on display for her. 

“Good boy. What’s your question?”

“I was-... it was five years, Madam.” His voice goes breathless, he whimpers as her crop drops to slowly run over the existing marks. Oh, how she loves that sound. How she loves her control of him. “I was f-free for five years-”

“You were away from home for five years, darling,” She says in her deep dry voice. “But I found you in four.”

He swallows. She watches his throat move under his collar, fascinated at the sight. “Wh-what?”

“You’re so delightfully dense, Peter. Did you think I came as soon as I knew where you were? No, no.” She pulls the crop away and watches him hold position, her very good pet. When she pulls her arm back and brings it down, the cry her makes settles her jangling nerves, soothes her deep within. She watches fresh blood burst free from torn skin as he flinches, then moves back into position again. “Good. Hold, darling.”

She hits him again, and again, and again.

With each strike of the crop, his cries are a little louder, project a little more of his pain. Upstairs, she’s locked Micheal in the room he and Peter share, and part of her sings knowing he’ll be pacing the floor listening, marinating in his own helplessness, in the weight of his own collar returned to his neck. 

Perhaps he’ll keep a more civil tongue in his head, after he sees what Peter looks like thanks to his defiance. 

“Peter, I brought you home after five years. I found you in four.”

She draws the crop down and paints a nonsense symbol over his stomach with his own blood, smiling. 

Control lost, regained anew.

How she missed him.

She strikes him across the face just to watch him fall to the side, to see blood run down his cheek to his jaw, to listen to his cry, the hitched sob that follows, to watch the tears and blood mix. 

“Why-... why did you-... wait-”

“Because I wanted you to feel safe, my sweet boy, before I came back to show you that you will always belong to me. Position Nine.”

He shifts back automatically, back arched, arms folded, and she watches those brown eyes welling with tears as he obeys her.

Really, he was always the best of them all, and she just never saw it before.

Now, she sees.

She brings the crop down again.

[jordanstrophe]

This One is Mine, part...10?

Masterlist 

Anon ask, Anon receive c:

(I am aware the Content Warning spoil a lot, but I want everyone to be safe and comfortable. The main story will have a happy ending though!)

CW: Very Intimate whumper, manhandling, restraints, Whumpee recaptured by whumper, gun mentioned, Arrest made, implied whipping, Blood, Death threats, gun mentioned, Gag, Kidnapping mentioned

Michael sat crumpled under the desk, face pressed against the corner, twitching and shaking, the gashes on his back burning. He wanted to go home... He didn’t even care about his life before all this, he hardly even remembered it. He just wanted to stay with Charles.

Maybe he forgot about him already... 

He let a quiet sob escape his lips, but held in the rest. Almost immediately, two hands reached down and roughly grabbed his bound arms, pulling him from under the desk. He yelped as he was pulled into Malcolm's lap, who cradled him in his arms.

“Shh, baby, don’t cry. He’s not worth a tear.” Malcolm whispered, thumbing them away. He tucked his face into his shoulder, whimpering and crying softly. “You’re home now, lovely. Back where you belong, in my arms, at my feet, isn’t that right?” He asked. “Y-yes master.” He said, he didn’t have the energy to rebel anymore. Malcolm gave him a lovingly smile, stroking his knuckles down his face. Michael wanted nothing but to spit in his face and pull from his grasp, but he had learned not to do that the hard way in the past. 

His phone on his desk rang, Malcolm groaned annoyingly as he shoved Michael onto the floor, who quickly scampered back under the desk. “Who is it?! I’m busy!” He growled into the phone angrily.

“Jake, Kyle, Alice, Emma, Vince...” The voice rattled off a list of names. Before the voice could continue any further, Malcolm shrieked “What is this? What do you think you’re doing?!” He knew who that was, and he recognized all those names.

“Oh, some people you should know. People you took off the street against the system. People who didn’t see anything, but you took them anyway. You know what I’m talking about.” Charles smiled. “You abused the system for your personal gain, it’s like a sport to you, isn’t it? A big game. I have more names if you want me to remind you.”

Malcolm’s face went red, but he shook off the anger, he still held all the cards. 

Right?

“That doesn’t matter, it’s a business tactic! The other founders will recognize that, there on my side, remember?” He laughed.  “Yeah, but the government isn’t.” Charles smirked. 

Malcolm broke down laughing. He laughed, and laughed, and laughed until he was practically wheezing, Michael was pretty hopeful he would die on the spot.

“The government? Please old friend, you wouldn’t dare! You rat me out, the entire system goes with it.” He laughed.  “So?” Charles asked. “I’ll be honest. I’m getting bored, I feel like I beat the game of life a long long time ago. But now I have something else to live for, and if you don’t return him, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him safe."  “You’re either crazy, or bluffing, and I’m going to go with the second one.” He sneered. 

 “He’s not joking, Malcom.” Nimrah spoke behind Charles. “Is that the lovely Miss Nimrah Loralie? Are you still salty about our last business deal?” He chuckled. “Yes, yes I am, thank you very much. But let me make it clear to you, Charles is no bluffing man, he plans to take down the entire system unless you give him what he wants. Or.. You could always not, and we can go back to the first plan.” She shrugged.

“First plan, eh?” He laughed. “Yeah, me kindly giving you a bullet between the eyes.” She hissed into the phone. 

“You even got her involved. You’re serious here, aren’t you Charles?” He sighed. 

“Deadly, serious.”

Malcolm glanced down at Michael cowering under the desk, he was only hearing half the conversation, too many questions were swimming in his head. Malcolm let off a sigh of defeat. “Alright. Alright. Fine. He’s not worth the trouble, you know where to meet me, tonight.” He mumbled. He hung up before Charles could get another word in. 

Malcolm ripped the phone in two with his bare hands, and threw it against the large mirror, shattering it to pieces that shot across the room. He slammed his fists on the desk, jostling the whole room, the chandeliers clattering and swaying. He collapsed to his knees to come face to face with Michael, who trembled and shook. He grabbed his chin and pulled him closer.

“What is with you, huh? What’s so special about you?! Do you realize what you’ve just caused?!” He cried out. Michael only squeezed his eyes shut, whimpering over the pain in his back. Malcolm sighed, loosening his grasp and petting his cheek. “But don’t worry baby, I’m going to fix everything tonight, alright? Right in front of Charles.” He smiled lovingly. 

Charles' hands trembled, he had made dozens of phone calls, and deleted hundreds of files on every hard drive. Miles nervously paced around the room twitching his fingers in his grasp. 

“Charles, are you sure? Are you one-hundred percent sure you want to do this?” Miles asked.  “I’ve never been so sure about anything in my life. It’s time.” He gave him a sad smile.  “And you’re sure we’re going to be fine? We have protection, right?” Nimrah asked. “Absolutely, every one of you is going to be taken care of, I swear. I take care of my household” He said. 

“But... What about you?” Liam asked. The room went silent. 

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. Miles, I’m counting on you, alright?” He asked. Miles nervously nodded his head. 

When night fell, they drove to the abandoned lot where they did the usual trades. “Nimrah? Something has been on my mind. That day, in the shop, you recognized Michael. You said he was brave... What happened?” He asked. Nimrah sighed, crossing her arms and legs. 

‘'Before our little fall out, I would always attend his parties. I’ll give him credit, his parties were a real killer. But this one night was a bit different. He had just lost one of his favorites, and was pretty mad. He did it himself, of course, but he never blamed himself. He dressed up a bunch of his Pets and had them serve the food and drinks, one of them fell and spilled a lot of really expensive drinks, it’s safe to say he wasn’t too happy.” She huffed.  “I swear it looked like he was about to kill that boy on the spot. But Michael jumped in front and shielded him, He took the punishment instead.” She sighed.

Charles was silent, he was scared to try and picture that scene. “He knew what he was doing, brave kid. But he sealed his fate that day, for that was the day he became the new favorite.” She said. “Man...” Miles muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. Charles could only clench his fists tightly. 

Malcolm’s car pulled up, Michael was knelt on the floor. “Come on lovely, up here.” Malcolm cooed, gently pulled him up on the seat next to him. '‘Now sweetheart, do you know what’s going to happen?” He asked, brushing the bloody hair from his face. “N-No.. Master..” He muttered. “Charles about threw everything away for you, his career, his freedom, all for you! Isn’t that nice?” He smiled.  

Michael’s eyes shot up, he finally felt a glimmer of hope. “He’s... Came f-for me?” He asked, tears streaking down his face. “All for you, he’s just outside, waiting for you!” He grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a tight hug, hissing in his ear. 

“And then I’m going to kill you. Right in front of him, before you even reach him. And while he’s too stunned to do anything, I’m going to kill him, right after he sees you dead.”

Michael’s eyes went wide, his breathing stopped.  No... No he wouldn’t. No... No!  “Why?” He whimpered, too shocked to even break down to sob, he was only breathless. 

‘Why? Because if I can’t have you. No one can.” 

In an instant, Malcolm shoved a gag in his mouth, and tied it tightly. “But shhh, it’s a surprise, so don’t tell him, okay? Oh baby, I’m going to miss you.” He said sadly, as Michael tried to scream, or run, or fight, anything! But he couldn’t... 

Malcolm grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the car. He could see the headlights of another car, beaming across the lot. He heard the other car door slam shut. He tried to shout, to scream, anything to warn then about what was going to happen! But all that came out were panicked muffling sobs. 

“Malcolm!” Charles shouted. Standing in front of the headlights, only his silhouette was visible. “I’ve got your boy, Charles! I honored my part, now do the same!” He called. “Let him go, and we’ll see about that.” He responded. 

Malcolm had a hold on his arm, as he pulled him forward. “Don’t mess this up now.” He whispered, before shoving him forward. He quickly regained his footing, standing in the middle of the lot, his legs quaking under him, as he froze.

“Michael! It’s okay, come here!” Charles called, but he didn’t move. He tried to cry out again, but hardly anything was coming out. He looked up at Charles, with tears in his eyes, as he shook his head no. 

“Sweetheart it’s okay! It’s okay now, come home!” He cried, taking a step closer. Michael only responded by taking a step back, viciously shaking his head no. 

Malcolm laughed. “What’s wrong Charles? Your boy doesn't want you anymore?”  Charles let out a frustrated sigh, as he began to walk towards Michael, who scrambled back and collapsed on the gravel. 

“..Michael?” Charles asked, slowing down his pace, confused. He saw something flash in Malcolm's hand from the headlights, before he even had a chance to do anything, there was a loud crashing sound from the distance. 

‘'Hands in the air! Drop the weapon!” A loud voice announced. Black cars screeched up to the scene, within an instant dozens of people poured out of them.

“I repeat, drop the weapon!” They called again.

Weapon... What weapon? There was a clanking sound that came from Malcolm, who had thrown a gun to the floor with his hands in the air, his face pale, frozen with fear. He looked down, to see Michael still trembling on the ground, unable to move. He quickly grabbed him, pulling him into an embrace for just a moment, before ripping him onto his feet, quickly dragged him over and put him in Miles arms. 

‘Go!” He cried, as Miles held on to Michael. 

He turned around, hand in the air. "They’re not involved, I’m the one who called! I’m the one you want!” He called, as he was immediately wrestled to the ground. He looked up, as saw the same was done to Malcolm and his driver. Malcolm’s eyes were fixated on him, hatred burning in his eyes. “You rat... We had a deal!” 

Michael looked back, and saw what was happening. Miles pulled the gag from his mouth, as he immediately cried out. ‘Wait! What’s happening!? Charles!?” He cried. He tried to pull himself from Miles grasp, but he didn’t let go.

“No no no! Stay with me, he has to do this!” Miles cried, as Michael desperately tried to run to him. 

“WAIT! NO! CHARLES! PLEASE, NO! CHARLES!” He screamed, as Miles grabbed his legs and threw him over his shoulder.  He screamed, cried, fought and pleaded as he was thrown into the back of the car. Miles jumped in the driver's seat and hit the gas. Nimrah crawled into the back seat and tried to sooth Michael, who was screaming and crying.

“Sshh, Michael, it’s alright, calm down.” Nimrah whispered. She pulled off the shackled from his wrists, as he immediately scrambled to open the car door, but it was locked. She pulled him into a hug, trying to calm him down, but he wasn’t having it. They drove for hours, and hours, long passing the mansion. Eventually his voice gave out, as he collapsed in the seat, blindly staring out the window, his face stained with tears. 

“He’ll be okay.” Nimrah muttered, to the both of them. 

“He’ll be okay...”

Tag list: @lave-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @green-eyed-whumpster  @grizzlie70  @myworstdays @ill-eat-you-if-you-cross-me @alien-octopus

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

I was quite unsure of this one, as the story was SUPPOSE to be fluffy. (My inner whump came out, sorry) But! It will have a good ending! And this was kind of the only way I could think that could lead up to that ending I wanted. The next chapter will most likely be the last. I may come back and do some drabble, or if someone wants to request something, but the main story is about to come to an end. I’m hopping these past few chapters didn’t go somewhere where people didn’t want it to go. But thank you for coming this far, I really appreciate you! <3