#ballroom whump

[ccieatchildren]

A Dance, Darling?

TW: Noncon Kissing, Implied Kidnapping, Almost Panic Attack, Intimate Whumper, Forced Relationship

Whumpee brought their fingers up to rest on the rubies encircling their neck. It was not as extravagant as they had expected from him, but it was still hefty enough to feel each individual jewel press into their flesh, a constant reminder on their skin.

Leaving the necklace alone, disturbed by what it represented, their eyes travelled up to their face in the mirror. Their makeup was all red. Lipstick, eyeliner, eyeshadow, each a dark shade that could only be accomplished by Whumper mixing some of their own blood into the cosmetics. They shuddered at the memory of the experience.

Whumpee groaned as he made another cut on their back, pressing the clear vial under the opening. The blood prickled their skin as it made its path down into the small jar.

Whumper brushed his lips against their neck, “we have to make sure you look your best.” He pressed on each side of the wound, drawing out more of the scarlet substance. The flow of red now rushed into the container. 

They sobbed, while Whumper watched in fascination.

Underneath the bandages, their spine pulsated at the memory, and they could feel the beginning barbs of phantom pain. Whumpee shook their head, freeing themself from the thought. 

Moving along, their gaze moved further up to their hair. Whumper had asked– told– them to put the small red jewel feathers he gave them in between the locks. In any other situation, Whumpee quite enjoyed the look of them in their hair, it was as if their hair was a flower sporting red leaves, but here, their image was immediately soured by who gave them to them.

They frowned. Another chain.

Their hands moved down to follow the curve of their dress. It was a deep crimson, matching their makeup and jewellery, and flowed down to their ankles. A hole was cut out at their chest, causing Whumpee to scrunch up their nose in distaste. It was shoulderless with a high slit on their right side, showing off their leg and the scars that adorned it. 

Whumpee hated it.

They were not very used to wearing dresses in the first place. They would thought it beautiful on someone else, but it felt foreign on their own skin. It complemented their figure too well, emphasizing their chest, hips, and waist in a way that made them feel like a piece of meat on display. The slit showed much more skin than they were comfortable with and Whumpee was paranoid that they would accidentally flash someone. They kept tugging the fabric down, but there was nothing more for it to do. Whumper’s intent with the dress was clear. Flaunt the prized lamb he bought in the auction. 

However, they would prefer the objectification over the reason he actually chose this dress for them. 

Easier access.

It made them nauseous. Their fingers itched to rip and tear the dress off themself. Strip themself of the shame and fear.

Whumpee slammed their hands onto the sink, pulling their attention away from their apprehension and resentment. In, out. In, out. In… Out… Drawing in each breath worked to ease their misgivings. A technique Whumpee relied heavily on throughout their time here. Inhaling fresh air, exhaling all theirworries. 

A few seconds and Whumpee was back to their original state. 

Not normal, not calm. But manageable. Never fully calm again.

Their eyes drooped down to the final piece tying their ensemble together, the gold band that encircled their left ring finger. Part of them enjoyed covering up the scar from his teeth, hiding how they were now permanently tied to him. The other part of them knew this was just a fancier shackle. A more obvious cuff for the public eye.

They fiddled with the ring, twisting it back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. God, they just wanted to throw it out the window and watch as it got lost to the city forever. 

They slowly pulled the bond up their finger, only thoughts of release and escape bouncing around their head.

“Do you like it?” 

Whumpee whipped their head around to see Whumper standing in the doorway. They shoved the ring back down.

He had pushed his hair back for once, the fluffy black locks smothered under a layer of gel. His suit was black, as was his tie, which were accompanied by a red vest and button up, matching their dress perfectly. He still wore the same three earrings, now pairing with their own red drops. Whumper had taken off his glasses, presumably switching them for contacts, emphasizing his dark lashes and ruby eyes.

He looked them up and down, unabashedly ogling, before finally settling on their face. “You look absolutely gorgeous, dear. Red looks nice on you.” 

“I prefer blue.”

Whumper’s lips twitched. “Are you ready? Best not to be late.” He swiftly turned around, ignoring the obvious last ditch attempt to rile him up, grabbing his keys and heading to the door. Whumpee trailed behind, already dreading the party.

————

The bright lights of the venue were the first thing to assault Whumpee’s eyes. They stepped out of the vehicle, admiring the show of excessive wealth, jumping at the slam behind them. Whumper tittered at their reaction; he had closed the car door behind them, chivalrous, as always.

Whumpee turned to glare at him, unamused. He initially looked surprised at their outward frustration toward him, before smiling once again.

Whumper offered them his elbow, red eyes boring into them, and Whumpee was quick to accept the proposal. “Off we go, my love.” Handing the keys off to the valet, he walked into the large building, practically dragging Whumpee with him.

It was an open ballroom, filled with people mingling, the low hum of talking almost overpowering the small orchestra playing music in the corner. It was decorated with an abundance of gold and white, adding to the affluent and lavish vibe. The middle of the room was open for couples who wanted to dance, the sides filled with tables holding various hors d'oeuvres and desserts. At the very end was a stage covered in balloons and banners, where the host would most likely give their toast.

Whumpee cringed at the overwhelming amount of people in the room. They had never been that much of a fan of parties, but now, their usual anxiety seemed to have increased tenfold. Their skin itched as if everyone was staring at them, checking them out, assessing their worth, finding their weaknesses. It reminded them of the tense stillness before a fight, not a party. The wounds across their back and stomach throbbed, their ever present pain intensifying, and making Whumpee even more self conscious. 

What if they could see them? What would they do then? Would they help them or find it amusing? What would Whumper do? 

This was too much. They couldn’t do this. Couldn’t pretend everything was fine. They needed to get out of here.

Panic crawled up their spine, and Whumpee slightly pulled away from Whumper, hoping to escape. But his grip was firm, and they were stuck pressed into him. Whumper’s body shook with light laughter at their alarm, peering down at them. Upon seeing their expression, however, he twitched.

Whumper pulled them even closer to him, “want to go back home, darling?” His eyes were softer than usual and his face contorted into a small frown, “do all the people frighten you?”

Whumpee nodded vigorously, pressing themself closer to him, trying to appeal to his affection for them.

Whumper placed his free hand on their cheek, and Whumpee nuzzled further into him. “Don’t worry, I’m here.” He seemed to think for a few seconds, watching them carefully, before his lips widened into a sharp smile. “As much as I would love to go back home with you,” he mockingly placed a hand over his chest, “and it truly does make me elated that you consider me your home now,” Whumpee flinched, recognizing their mistake, trying to draw back away from him, “but,” he wouldn’t let them go, “we prettied you for this. We can’t go before you meet everyone and indulge in the festivities. Can’t have it all go to waste, now can we?” He tutted at them.

Whumper continued to stare at them before they realized he wanted an answer. Whumpee slowly shook their head, accepting defeat, slumping down into themself.

Whumper patted their cheek before pulling back. “Kaip geras. Now let’s go, I already see someone I want to introduce you to.”

He pulled them along further into the room, and Whumpee took a deep breath, hoping, but failing, to prepare themself for the night to come.

————

The next hour or so was filled with Whumpee standing docilely next to Whumper, a smile plastered on their face while he spoke to everyone who came to greet him. 

It was the same thing over and over again. A name they wouldn’t remember, faces that blurred together, shallow compliments about their outfit, and, the worst of all, congratulations to the happy couple. 

Whumper keened at all the flattery, especially those of their dress and jewelry, making sure to pipe in that he was the one that purchased them for them, and, as they were expected to follow along, Whumpee thanked him for the “generous” gift from a loving fiancé. He always managed to squeeze in a kiss for the presents, tilting their head up and drawing Whumpee in whenever they expressed their gratitude. This only delighted the other guests, amused at the young couple’s public show of affection.

It was torture. 

Now Whumpee, thankfully, had finally gotten a small break from Whumper flaunting them off, standing on the sidelines and trying to drown their worries into a small flute of champagne. 

Never too far, Whumper was in the corner conversing with what they could only assume to be potential buyers, and, though he wasn’t facing them, Whumpee could still feel the ever present weight of his eyes watching them, making sure they didn’t run. As unnerving as it was, Whumpee preferred it over his stifling presence bearing down next to them. 

The hero scanned the room as their mind drifted. They could try to get help from the other people here, but Whumpee didn’t foresee much success through those routes. They recognized half the guests from files back in their old office, and those who weren’t publicly villains were most likely not much better either. 

However, even if they weren’t in the same circles as Whumper, what could Whumpee say that would convince them of their situation. Their last stunt as a hero left them humiliated and discredited; they looked crazy to the public eye. Someone who had lost their way and needed the guidance of some pristine charitable schmuck who graciously sacrificed themselves to help them. In the end, it would be their words against his, and no one would believe them. 

And on the small, small chance they did… Whumpee shivered at what Whumper would do to keep them with him, how he would take revenge for their defiance. They knew it wouldn’t just stop at them, and, as much as they despised it, the hero in them couldn’t let that happen.

As always, he had the upper hand. 

They were taken out of their musings by a gloved hand appearing in their line of sight, too deep in thought to notice Whumper had finished his conversation.

“Join me for a dance, mylimasis?” An award winning smile was plastered on his face, amusement obvious as he played the part of a perfect gentleman. Whumpee grimaced at the irony. 

Seeing no way out of it, Whumpee cautiously placed their hand in his, their trepidation bringing a small chuckle out of the man. Whumper gently brought them to the dance floor, joined by other couples who wished to sway with their partners. Whumpee brought their arms around his neck as he encircled their waist, skin crawling where he touched them. 

Whumper rocked them side to side at a slow pace, calming just by watching them. Whumpee scrutinized him, trying to understand his game; it wasn’t like him to do something so simple without an ulterior motive. 

His fingers started to tap along their waist, following the beat of the music in the background, while he continued to watch them. Whumpee stared back with the same intensity, struggling to smooth their face so they weren’t outright glaring at him. He seemed rather startled at their ‘sudden’ annoyance, eyes widening, before he sheepishly smiled at them. Their face must have slackened in confusion as he relaxed as well, returning to watching them. They continued like that, swaying in the crowd and looking at each other, for a small while. 

Finally, a blush spread across his cheeks, and Whumper quickly turned away. 

He’s like an embarrassed teen. 

They huffed slightly in disbelief, causing Whumper to turn back around at the sound. Realizing the awkwardness, he cleared his throat before asking. “Are you enjoying yourself so far?”

“Yes.”

He perked up. “Really?”

Whumpee sent him a dry look. Whumper visibly wilted and they scoffed, looking away. Seriously, again?

Letting their anger and frustration get the best of them wasn’t the smartest move, they knew that, but their proximity was putting Whumpee on edge, making them more irritable than usual. 

“You are going to have to get used to this,” Whumper said, breaking the silence. Whumpee turned back, shocked by his now blank face. “I’m tolerating your disrespect because we’re in public, and I recognize this is your first time being away from home in a long time. It makes you nervous, I understand that. But,” his fingers dug into their waist and Whumpee had to suppress a gasp, “when we’re officially wed, you’ll have to join me to these outings frequently as my wife.” He leaned down so their eyes were level, “I will not indulge this pitiful defiance of yours, then.” Whumper straightened back out, looking down at them, always able to make them feel small with just a glance. “So, I recommend you start familiarizing yourself with the appropriate behavior now.”

Fuck.

Whumpee gulped. They had screwed themself over.

Head bowed, Whumpee accepted defeat. It always ended like this, with Whumpee on their knees before Whumper, metaphorically or literally. They had no response other than to let themself be pulled every which way by Whumper.

Now pressed up against his chest, Whumper and Whumpee swayed as more and more partners made their way to the dance floor.

Leaning down once more, Whumper supplied their companion with more information. “Get ready, brangusis, it’s about to get fun.”

Noticing the crowd of couples, the small orchestra shifted into waltz, and everyone moved in sync. 

Whumper brought their clasped hands up and moved his other to their hip, brushing over an old wound. Whumpee harshly sucked in a breath before placing their hand on his shoulder. He commenced the dance, and Whumpee tried their best to keep up.

Step, slide, step, turn. 

Whumpee hyper focussed on their feet, trying to match his movements. They didn’t have much experience with ballroom dancing, having only taken a few classes as a joke with Bestie, and the one time Caretaker tried to teach them, though it hadn’t ended very well. Whumpee smiled at the memory: them and Caretaker a mess of limbs on the floor as Whumpee had slipped and doomed them both to a few more bruises across their body. They had been so out of breath from laughing when they couldn’t untangle themselves from each other. It had been a spur of the moment idea, some stupid thing meant to bring them closer together. It worked.

“Something funny?” 

Whumpee broke out of their reverie, not even realizing they had zoned out. Whumper’s mouth was a hard line, displeasure at not being the center of their attention apparent. 

It irked them how needy he always was. Kidnapping, experimenting, torturing, and assaulting them wasn’t enough?

They mumbled a quiet apology, peeking up at him through their lashes. It worked and Whumper eased with a blush. 

The musicians kept a steady adagio tempo, giving any more couples who wanted to join an extra moment. Whumpee slowly acclimated to the rhythm, matching Whumper’s moments not long after. 

“You were always a quick learner,” he laughed. Whumpee grimaced. 

As they danced, he squeezed and kneaded along their side, curious of their reactions. His fingers pressed into an old bruise and Whumpee staggered. He kept them balanced, yet began a game of finding where else he could push to get a pained response.

They tried to pull away from the pokes and prods, tottering with each failed attempt. They whined when he reached a fresh stitched gash. Whumpee could feel the meager string split under his pressure, spilling blood that wouldn’t be noticed under the crimson of their dress. 

Whumpee startled when their dance faltered for a moment, for once not because of them. They peered up at Whumper, surprised to find dilated eyes trained on their throat. 

“Don’t do that.” He ground out. 

Ah.

Whumpee was more than happy to obey. That train of thought would lead nowhere good for them. 

Screaming in pain would also most likely not bode well with the other guests. Whumpee sighed, nodding and gritting their teeth through his subtle exploration. Their head throbbed. 

The music picked up, pushing them to move even faster. Whumpee already felt dizzy from the quick paced movement, and Whumper’s tight hold over their still healing cuts was not helping. “Smile, love. People are watching.” He purred.

Heeding his warning, Whumpee stretched their mouth into some semblance of a smile, lips twitching from the strain, and kept dancing. Whumper relaxed his grip slightly, pleased with their obedience. 

Step, slide, step, turn.

Just as they were getting used to pushing the pain down to the rhythm, Whumper let go of their waist, spinning them. Whumpee stumbled, but he kept them moving, pulling them back in after they completed a turn. He seamlessly continued their dance, not giving Whumpee a break to get their bearings, delighting in their increasing disorientation. 

Step, slide, step, turn.

He continued to spin Whumpee every few steps, quietly laughing at their mounting nausea. However, each time their expression began to display their discomfort, Whumper would lean down to mutter a reminder of what would happen if they didn’t keep up the facade. His own twisted form of encouragement. 

“I don’t like to share, sweetheart. Those expressions are only for me.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Many guests are watching us love, don’t disappoint them with your sour countenance. I don’t want them gossiping about how I have an unruly wife.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“You look marvellous when you spin. My pretty little thing. Keep going.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Your dress makes me want to add more red. How about the blood of everyone here, ęh? Do we want to see?”

Step, slide, step, turn.

“Don’t fall. I’ll get jealous. And we will have to fix that by adding bruises of my own.”

Step, slide, step, turn.

Vomit slithered up their throat. Their eyes burned with the effort to keep it down, despite the writhing of their stomach and the taste of maggots in their mouth.

A particularly fast whirl caused Whumpee to lose their footing, almost bringing them both to the floor. Whumper was quick enough to avoid disaster, but it put them out of sync with the music for several beats. 

“Watch it, Whumpee. You will not ruin this for me.” He said harshly. “Keep slipping and I’ll snip your legs.”

The again didn’t need to be said. 

But, Whumpee was trying their best, except every movement only exacerbated their aches and exhaustion. Their breathing became laboured and their limbs felt heavy, their beaten body unable to keep up with the overexertion. 

They wanted to tap out now. 

Whumpee tried to pull away, releasing his shoulder and stepping out of his grasp, only for his grip on their other hand to constrict. Whumper drew them back in, gracefully spinning them as he did so, and pulling them up against his chest in a flourish. They gasped as he once again agitated their wounds.

“Where are you going zuikutis? We’re not done yet.” He pinned them even closer to him, leaning down to whisper in their ear. “I can hear your heart hammering. Does our dancing make you that excited?” Whumpee tried to pull away, but their efforts were fruitless. Their body was drained and Whumper was holding them too tight. 

They were about to slump against him, give in and let Whumper sway them on the floor, accept whatever punishment he saw fit, but before they could fully relax, he pulled back, placing their arms once again in the position for a waltz. His expression was harsh, “I said we weren’t done yet, mielasis.” Whumpee flinched, eyes shifting to the people outside the dance floor, but he started to move them once more.

Whirling and pulling. Twisting and pulling. Spinning and pulling. Pulling. Pulling. Pulling.

They can’t keep up.

The music seemed to intensify with their panic. Whumpee could hear their pulse pounding in their ears. The sound of their harsh breathing contrasted with Whumper’s controlled ones. The voices at the edge of the room grew. Tapping of shoes on the pristine floor echoed in their head.

Each sound pushed against their skull, battling one another for space in their mind. Whumpee began to wobble more, unsteady feet tripping their partner. Hands clawing at whatever they held. Chest tightening. Vision blurring. Throat closing. Tired. Hot. Dizzy. 

Let go. Let go. Let go. Let go. Let go. LET GO-

“Breathe, it’s over.”

A hand rubbed soothing circles along their back. Whumpee blinked rapidly, vision and mind slightly clearing. They found themself leaned down, hovering over the floor.

The song had finished. Whumper had dipped them. 

The crowd around them released small whoops and cheers for all the dancers, surrounding the couple with the sharp clap of applause. Whumpee tensed. Whumper hurried to calm them.

“Ramiai, ramiai vargšas.” He slowly pulled them back to their feet. “I see I got carried away. This was too much for you.” Whumper told them softly. “We’ll work on it.”

Whumpee couldn’t process what he was saying, too busy trying to return to the world around them. They were pliant as he led them off the dance floor.

They spent the next few minutes leaning into Whumper as they calmed themself down. If they could think clearly, Whumpee would have pulled away from him long ago, but they simply did not have the mental capacity for hatred or fear right now.

After they reached a more coherent state, he spoke. “I’m going out for a smoke.” Whumpee was still breathless from their dancing, barely able to catch up to what he was telling them. “You don’t have to join me, I know how much you hate it. But,” Whumpee suddenly grabbed their arm, throwing them off balance once more.

“Stay here.” They didn’t think they could anywhere if they wanted to, they were too light headed from dancing. That was probably the point. “I’ll be back in 10 minutes.” 

Whumper examined them a final time, before nodding to himself. He steered Whumpee to a corner, despite their, almost drunken, stumbling. Then, they were on their own. 

They felt the need to cry, the tears pressing against the back of their eyes, but they- they just- it wasn’t working. They couldn’t. Not here. They just needed to focus on their breathing. 

They leaned against the wall, thankful for its cool surface, hoping to steady themself. 

In… Out… 

In… Out…

In… Out… 

Rhythmic breathing slowed their racing heart. Air stopping its fight in their lungs. Muscles no longer protesting as loudly. Whumpee’s body finally calmed from the stress of his waltz. 

They took a few more moments to themself, forehead pressed firmly against the plaster. Just breathing. Mind emptying. Preparing for a few more hours of struggle.

They could do this. 

“Whumpee.” A hand landed on their shoulder, warm and familiar. They jolted, spinning around. They froze once their gaze landed on Caretaker.

Her dress, a fitted corset around her middle that flowed out into a long skirt, was a striking cerulean color that complimented her eyes. There was a large collar that covered from her neck to her shoulder, decorated with sapphires, holding a sheer cape that flowed down to trail behind her. Her makeup used only various shades of blue, highlighting her dark skin. 

They felt their eyes water faintly at the sight of such a familiar face. It had been too long.

“C-Caretaker!” Whumpee cringed at their own voice, simultaneously too rough and too bright. “Wh-what a surprise. It’s been a while.” Whumpee tried to keep their cool. They couldn’t drag her into this, they wouldn’t, no matter how much they might want to.

A whirlwind of emotions flashed through Caretaker’s eyes, too quick for Whumpee to tell what she was feeling, before hardening, anger and determination shining through. “Where were you! I- We kept looking for weeks.” Her gaze saddened slightly, “I- I thought something had happened to you. When you didn’t answer after you went in… I was worried, and then the incident-”

“Well!” Whumpee clapped their hands together, effectively cutting off the woman. “As you can see I’m fine. Didn’t they tell you where I was? My comm broke, nothin’ serious.” They told her carefully. “And, you know I had that vacation lined up,” their lips stretched into a shaky smile. “That’s all. Nothing to get so worked up about!” They laughed. Whumpee hoped their expression was convincing enough.

“But-”

Whumpee sighed. “Look, I know I never reached out-”

“What- Never reached out! I sent you so many messages, you missed all my calls.” That was because Whumper had taken their phone. “You never miss my calls.” Whumpee stiffened. That was very true. They made sure to never miss a call from her again. “Then one day you just told me to stop contacting you completely!” They hadn’t known about that, though Whumpee wasn’t very surprised. 

Caretaker averted her gaze. “D-did I do something wrong? I would’ve left you alone if you had just told me what really happened.” She grabbed Whumpee’s hands. “I just- I-…” The woman paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. “You’re someone I care deeply about, I thought we were close. I-I needed to make sure you were okay… I’m sorry.” Her body slumped, the rage and conviction seeping out, dropping Whumpee’s hands. All that was left was a tired, worried friend.

As they watched their partner deflate, Whumpee realized something. Here she was, one of the few people willing to look for them, and all Whumpee could do was brush them off. As much as they hated it, however, they were firm in their belief; they would not rope Caretaker into this. It was not safe. They had faith in her ability as a hero, but Whumpee had seen, had experienced, what Whumper could do first hand, and they would not take the risk. They would never forgive themself if something happened to her.

But they would not leave Caretaker with nothing either. 

Whumpee bent down, hoping to console their companion. “No, Caretaker, I-”

“You never introduced me to your lovely acquaintance here, dear.” Whumpee bolted back up, putting as much distance between the two of them as they could. The man now next to them, leaned down, extending a hand to Caretaker while the other wrapped around their waist. “Whumper. Whumpee’s fiance .”

Caretaker’s eyes widened in shock, recognition flashing, before she smoothed her expression out into a smile. “I see! It’s nice to meet you. I’m Caretaker, Whumpee’s friend, their partner.” She took his hand, squeezing tightly. They silently stared off at each other, before Whumper drew his hand back and straightened. “Y’know, Whumpee never mentioned they were dating anyone.” The accusation was clear in her tone.

Whumper’s fingers twitched. “Well, we wanted to keep our relationship a secret. Taking the time to tell everyone would be a hassle if we weren’t sure. And you know how annoying those pesky reporters can be.” The arm around their hips tightened slightly, a warning. “Right, Whumpee?”

Whumpee straightened, trying to school their face into that of a happily engaged person. “Y-Yes- yes, of course. Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. A-as you can see,” they waved in his direction, “this was also part of why I took that time off.”

Don’t ask more. Do not ask more. Please.

“Huh… Then, when you set the wedding date do tell me Whumpee. I would love to come.” 

Whumper twitched again, his eyes darkening. “When we do, I’ll be sure you are the first one to know.” He shifted, turning slightly, planning to drag Whumpee off with him. “Now, there are-”

“Oh!” She grabbed Whumpee’s arm to stop them. Whumper glared at the offending limb, and Whumpee could practically see the violence run through his brain. “One more thing,” Caretaker’s smile became strained and her eyes narrowed. “Whumpee, when do you plan on getting back to work? I know you said you were taking a vacation, a very important one at that, but all vacations end, right? You’re very important to the agency, and the boss is starting to get worried. You’ll have to come back soon, you know how they get-” 

Whumper cut in, pulling them out of her grasp, not giving Whumpee a chance to speak, composure slipping. “No.” He glared down at Caretaker, who stiffened and glared back in response, fists at her sides. Whumper cleared his throat. “Now if you’ll excuse us, there are more introductions Whumpee and I must make. Come along, darling.” 

Whumper bent down, cupping Whumpee’s face and smashing their lips together. Instinctively, their hands went up to rest on his chest, neither pushing away nor pulling closer. The acrid tang of smoke invaded their nostrils and the sour taste of tobacco stuck to their tongue. Their eyes scrunched close, they didn’t want to do this in front of Caretaker. Whumper felt their resistance, tightening his arm painfully until they finally kissed back, instead wrapping their arms around his neck. 

Just sell it.

Whumpee felt Whumper instantly soften at their touch, as always, relaxing into the kiss. He kept them there together for another few seconds before they broke for air. 

When they turned to look at Caretaker, her face was filled with horror. Her arms were limp at her sides and she gawked at them with dread. Whumper smirked, a cat who got his cream, before turning and taking Whumpee along with him, the arm around their middle again a vice. 

While they walked away, Whumpee turned their head one last time to look at Caretaker, silently pleading that she didn’t pry even further. Caretaker nodded, hands once again fists, with determination in her eyes. 

Whumpee didn’t think that Caretaker understood what they were asking her to do. 

This wouldn’t end well.

[suspensefulpen]

Birthday Gift

TW: Pet Whump, Collar and Leash, Conditioned Whumpee, Creepy/Obsessed Whumper, Bad Caretaker, Being Referred to as It

Whumper dragged Whumpee across the polished floors. Despite how much it hurt, he knew not to react. Whumper would stop the entire party just to reprimand him. But he also knew they wouldn’t do anything to make Caretaker upset. Whoever she was.

Despite how much he had to endure Whumper rambling about her, he didn’t actually know who she was. He only knew that Whumper was willing to do anything just for her attention and praise. They’d drop to their knees and give up everything just for her. Whumpee didn’t understand what made her so great. It was almost like Whumper saw her as a goddess to bow down to. No, there was no almost. Whumper did see her as a goddess to bow down to. And worship. Whumpee saw it first hand.

He always wondered what made them so attached to Caretaker. Why was she meant to be hailed as a goddess? What made her so special that a sociopath was willing to crumble just for her? It had to be something. Whumper never mentioned why they felt this way towards her but there had to be some reason. After all, they cleaned Whumpee up and gave them nice clothes just to drag them here.

They approached a woman in an elegant green dress, gold decorating her neck and wrists as she happily greeted the other guests. Whumpee assumed this was Caretaker. There was something about her that made the space around her brighten. She was smiling and full of energy. Maybe Whumper wanted to be around her because they were incapable of feeling that. Or maybe she filled a void inside them that Whumpee had no clue about.

The other guests quickly stepped away when they noticed Whumper. Whumpee guessed that was a sign that they didn’t limit their abuse and threats to one person. Caretaker’s attention was instantly brought to the two approaching her. Her smile widened as she brightened even more. By this point, Whumpee was blinded.

“Whumper! It’s so nice to see you! How are you?”

Whumper immediately switched the hand that held Whumpee’s arm. Wiping their now free hand on their suit jacket as if Whumpee had germs, they took Caretaker’s hand and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “How I’ve been doesn’t matter, dearest. What matters is if you’re enjoying your birthday ball.” Whumper even gave her a bow.

“Oh of course I am! I’m enjoying it even more now that I know you’ve arrived. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.” She said sadly.

“Deepest apologies Mistress,” They briefly lowered their head. “I’ve been busy preparing your gift.”

“For three months?” She raised a brow.

“Yes.” They nodded.

“I bet it’s wonderful.” Caretaker smiled softly. Whumpee didn’t understand how she could so easily ignore Whumper’s monotone. He assumed this was normal for them to speak with absolutely no emotion. He almost wanted to hide when her gaze landed on him. “Whumper, who’s this adorable person?”

Whumper glared daggers up into Whumpee before dropping it and tunring back to Caretaker. “It’s your gift, Ma’am.”

“My gift?”

“Yes. This is Whumpee. Your new pet. I trained it just for you, Miss.”

“For me? Whumper you’re so sweet! Thank you!”

Great. She’s insane too. Whumpee saw a small smile on her face before glancing at Whumper’s hidden one. Not as insane as them I bet.

“It’ll do whatever you ask it. I trained it with hand motions and verbal commands so you can switch between them if you ever need to.” Whumper explained.

“That was so very sweet of you.”

The hidden smile revealed itself, even in spite of the monotone. “Anything for you, Miss.” The expression wasn’t long to stay as Whumpee felt once again, daggers being glared into the side of his head for several moments before Whumper snapped out of it. “Would you like me to put on its collar and its leash for you, Miss?”

[paintingaportraitofpain]

thinking about ballgowns being used in captivity, metal weights being attached to crinolines, the hems of floor-length gowns being glued to the floor, the top half of a whumpee able to move, but the bottom half completely trapped

[iwritewhump]

"don't make me go back" + white knuckles + used as bait + ballroom

day four of whumptember

1008 words

warnings:

~~

Villain paces back and forth in the living room, hands held behind her back. Her entire team sits anxiously in the room with her. Henchman jots down ideas and shows them to Medic, who in turn writes down his ideas to show them. 

Whumpee sits on the couch, a blanket wrapped protectively around himself. He stares at the ground and runs a hand absentmindedly over his scarred shoulder. 

Villain stops and turns to her team, “Ok.” She says, a hand running through her hair. “I have a plan.” 

She looks at Whumpee and he shrinks into the blanket, “Please just let me stay here. I don’t think I’m ready for anything else. It’s only been a month.” 

Medic reaches out to him and puts a hand on his arm, “We’ll keep you safe.” 

Whumpee smiles and shifts uncomfortably, pulling his arm just out of Medic’s reach. 

“We will, though.” Villain says, still looking at Whumpee. “Keep you safe. Trust me, this is the only way we defeat Hero. We’ll go to the ball he’s throwing tonight, cause a whole lot of havoc and make sure he’s never alone with Supervillain.” 

Whumpee stands up and disappears from the living room, the blanket trailing behind him. 

“I’ll go talk to him.” Villain says, already following him down the hallway. “The rest of you: get ready for tonight, we’ll leave in two hours.” 

She knocks on his door and pushes it open. 

“Hey,” She says, poking her head in the room. “Can I come in?” 

Whumpee looks at her from the floor. His eyes are shining with tears and he sniffles, “Don’t make me go back.” 

“Oh,” She breathes, sitting down next to him. She inhales deeply and holds her open hand out to him. He takes it reluctantly and lays his head on her shoulder. “Hero needs to see you tonight.” 

His grip on her hand tightens, turning his knuckles white, “Why do I have to be there? Hero knows what everyone looks like. Medic or Henchman can distract him.” 

“Medic’s staying in the van and Henchman needs to keep an eye on Supervillain.” 

“And why can’t you do it?” Whumpee spits. “Why can’t you keep him busy?” 

Villain deflates a little and sinks further down the wall, “I’m not enough. Hero doesn’t care about me. It has to be you.” 

Whumpee sobs and lifts his head off of Villain’s shoulder. He stands up and brushes himself off before offering a hand to Villain. “Ok, if it’s the only way, I guess I’ll do it.” 

She smiles and takes his hand, letting him help her up. “I’ll get you something to wear.” 

And so that’s how the four of them end up at Hero’s banquet, dressed up finer than most of them ever had been. Whumpee’s arm is linked with Villain’s as they enter the ballroom. 

The gentle classical music spreading from the live band in the back of the room mixed with the roaring chatter of all the attendees sets Whumpee’s nerves on edge, but just as he’d done a dozen times before, he takes a deep breath, relaxes his shoulders and melts into the crowd. Only this time, he’s searching for Hero instead of avoiding him. 

With Villain slipping into a nearby conversation, Whumpee feels at ease being able to hear her polite laughter ringing in his ears. He spots Hero and his entire body freezes. 

“Whumpee!” someone calls from a few feet away. 

He turns and smiles, “Mentor!” running up to her, he throws his arms around her and tucks his chin in the crook of her neck. “What are you doing here?” 

She smiles and pulls back just enough to look at him, “I heard you’ve had an invite to all of Hero’s banquets so I did my best to get an invite. I was getting kinda worried since I haven’t really heard from you, but you’re alright?” 

Whumpee smiles and nods, not quite comfortable with the lie. He was technically doing all right. Better than he’d been, and that’s close enough, isn’t it?

“Good. Do you still…work with Hero?” she smiles and cups his cheeks with her hands. 

Oh right. 

He’d assumed that Hero hadn’t really let it out that he’d left, but for some reason, in the back of his head, he figured that he’d told everyone that something happened and they’d split. 

“No,” Whumpee says, pulling away from her slightly. “We, uh, well. I actually-” A hand grips his shoulder, nails digging into his skin, “He’s been so busy with volunteering that he’s not had much time with me.” 

Whumpee’s blood runs cold. He cowers slightly and the smile he plastered on is slowly chipped away as Hero’s grip on his shoulder tightens. 

“Isn’t that right, dear?” Hero spits. 

Whumpee swallows thickly and nods. He takes a step back so he’s standing right next to Hero. Hero lets his arm hang at his side and nods. 

Whumpee does the same and laughs nervously, “Yeah! I just…love to help the community.” 

“Oh, you always did love to help,” Mentor says with a smile. 

“Well,” Hero says, holding his hand out for her to shake, “It was great to chat, but Whumpee and I should probably make our rounds.” 

Before she can even respond, Hero’s walking away with a hand around Whumpee’s waist, whisking him to the hallway. 

“What the hell are you up to?” He spits, pushing Whumpee against the wall with an arm against his throat. “Aren’t you happy hiding with Villain and her friends?” 

Whumpee closes his eyes, “I’m…” 

“Shut up!” Hero snaps, pushing him harder against the wall. “We’re going to have a good night, you’re going to smile and chat and drink…and when it’s all over you’re going to stay here with me. No going back to Villain, no leaving my side. Do you understand?” 

Whumpee nods. 

Hero lowers his arm and Whumpee gasps, hands on his chest as it heaves. “Come on, link your arm with mine and let’s get back to the party before Villain notices we’re gone.”

~

part two

[lili-loves-whump]

can u write abt a hero and villain who everyone thinks is enemies but r actually in love??

Love ur writing!!

heeeeeeey anon, sure I can do that!!

lili-loves-whump presents:

Sky Blue Ties

Hero patted down the fabric of their suit. Their hair was pulled into a ponytail, slick at the back of their head. It hurt.

Their suit was deep black, and as they walked up to the door of the ballroom, the music slipped through the crack in the door.

Grand piano tunes.

Crashing violin melodies.

Flutes- so many different notes in flute.

Hero took a final deep breath, before stepping inside and beginning to walk- float, almost- down the steps.

"(HONORIFIC - LADY OR SIR) (FIRST NAME) (LAST NAME)," the caller boomed, his projection reaching the end of the hall. The king and green sat, a glass in each of their hands, watching with pursed lips as they continued down the steps.

Their eyes swept the room, trying to find someone they knew.

Medic was by the punch bowl, discreetly using a dropper to distribute the pink liquid into a tiny vial. They shook it around, frowning as the grapefruit-coloured juice turned a deep indigo.

"Medic," Hero muttered, bowing their head slowly, "do you remember the plan?"

"Of course, Hero," Medic said simply, sharp eyes squinting. "But why were you announced as (FIRST NAME LAST NAME)?"

Hero squirmed in their suit and rubbed a hand over their neck. A smear of foundation came away with their fingertips.

"I need an alibi, daring Medic."

Medic seemed content with this, smirking and turning towards the dance that had ensured. "Don't drink the punch," they said, blending into the crowd.

Hero looked around slowly, ignoring the whispers around them.

"Have you seen the person in blue?"

"Sky blue- yes. Like that person's tie, right there."

"Their looking at us! Oh, you fool, you should have said nothing!"

Hero glanced down at their tie, sky blue with embroidered clouds, before glancing over their shoulder.

Villain was dressed in a sky-blue jumpsuit, the fabric flowing off their body like silk. They caught Hero's eyes and smirked, stepping forward.

"Hey, darling," they purred, "I knew the matching was a good idea. Care to dance?"

Hero went bright red, against their better judgement. They glanced at the food table, and the alcohol spiked punch, then back at Villain, a playful smirk dancing on their lips. Wit a sigh, they extended their hand.

"Sure."

Villain took their hand and bowed, holding back a chuckle as Hero did the same. The pair walked away, ignoring Medic muttering under their breath.

"Not in love, my ass. Go have fun, Hero. I'll continue the mission on my own, apparently."

[themerrywhumpofmay]

Merry Whump of May 2024 Prompts

Event tags: #mwm2024 #themerrywhumpofmay #mwmday[X]

Thank you everyone for your patience in waiting for this post. We can't wait to see what you create this year! Have fun!

Image text under the cut-

Transcription:

ABOUT THE EVENT

The Merry Whump of May is an event run by @wormwriting and @painsandconfusion. There are 31 days of prompts to be completed each day of May. Feel free to do as much or as little as you’d like. 

Prompts can be filled in prose, poetry, art, or any other medium you resonate with. 

There will be participation and completionist medals in downloadable pdf format.

Prompts

01 - Breathless “Get back in there” | Ring box | Cliff

02 - Scorching “Don’t you dare.” | Glasses | Storage Shed

03 - Lost “See what happens.” | Screwdriver | Club

04  - Forgettable “Who are you?” | Lamp | Alleyway

05 - Strained “Put that down.” | Electrical wires | Plane

06 - Suspicious “You thought you could get away with this?” | Barbed wire | Riverside

07 - Fallen “Forget about them.” | Piano | Edge of town

08 - Pitch black “I’m fine.” | White-hot blade | Passenger seat

09 - Frostbitten “You’re nothing” | Blanket | Parking lot

10 - Jaded  “Revenge is a dish best served.” | Mask | Rooftop

11 - Numb “Pretty little thing.” | Bracelet | Stairwell

12- Known “Let me hear you.” | Garrotte | Desert

13 - Restless “Tell me how it feels.” | Needle | Trail

14 - Punchable “I just want you.” | Rock | Closet

15 - Stone-cold “Let me hold you.” | Candle | Cellar

16 - Naive  “Say aaaaa-” | Whip | Library

17 - Hungry “Wait, are you afraid of me?” | Fork | Lake

18 - Conditioned “Why do you love them?” | Record player | Ballroom

19 - Distracted “Rot in hell.” | Soup | crate

20 - Alone “Don’t tell me you forgot about me.” | Lipstick | Training grounds

21 - Charismatic “Sit.” | Vial | Balcony

22 - Charred “It’s been too long.” | Straps | Rafters

23 - Overthrown “Close your eyes.” | Rock | Truck

24 - Shadowed “Break a leg!” | Plants | Cave

25 - Practical “I’ve always loved the rain.” | Bottle | Shop

26 - Resilient “Get in.” | Pocket | Marsh

27 - Mistrusted “You’re trembling.” | Dagger | Couch

28 - Loyal “Smile.” | Water | Workshop

29 - Reflective “Chin up.” | Trap | Office

30 - Tenacious “Did you have a bad dream?” | Paper clip | Doorway

31 - Broken “Last one.” | Key | Under the bed

Alternate Prompts

Hidden

Waking

Betrayed

Garish

Garden

Theater

Docks

Street corner

“Lean on me.”

“I don’t have regrets.”

“Take me.”

Shoe

Ribbon

Corset

Crown

[redd956]

Mini Whump Prompt 161

"Dance with me." Whumper commanded in an asking tone, already taking Whumpee's hands into theirs, and leading them onto the ballroom floor.

[shadowgast-recs-weekly]

Shadowgast Recs: Dancing Fics

This week, we have our first open-to-everyone reclist with fics that featuring Dancing! Seven fic with ballroom dancing, pole dancing, aerial silks and at least one harvest dance are behind the cut - and as always - comment and kudos if you like them!

Something to Believe In by AwesomeFroggy (108948, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Modern With Magic AU: Essek has been exiled to Nicodranas; Caleb and the Nein live in Nicodranas. Meet-cute at a library all the way through to a wedding and adoptinc cats.

Reccer says: The author calls it "the peak of self indulgent fic" and is right; this is my go-to feel-good story for comfort. I know it's been recced before, and 100% deserves it. Even though the epilogue hasn't been posted, it feels complete and satisfying.

eleventh hour by mllekurtz (TheKnittingJedi) (3486, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: None

Dancing on a beach during the Mighty Nein’s goodbye party.

Reccer says: A sweet scene with great emotional beats.

Shapes in the Smoke by Luckyowlsfoot (2817, General) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Aerial silks! The Mighty Nein are invited to a Dynasty performance.

Reccer says: I liked it!

When you move, I'm moved by bloodredribbon (10829, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: None

The Nein find out Essek knows how to pole dance, Caleb is very happy about it.

Reccer says: I liked it!

only one part we can play by Anonymous (1169, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek interrupts Caleb's work to share a dance

Reccer says: Bittersweet and tender in equal measure!

Dancing Cheek to Cheek by Soot_and_Salt (3871, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek Thelyss is a prodigy at dancing, perhaps the best ballroom dancer in all of Xhorhas. Then, at a competition in Emon, he meets a man named Caleb Widogast and the world brightens for just a moment.

Reccer says: It's a fun, short AU that captures the feeling of a whirlwind night of romance

The Dancers and the Dreamers by royalgreen (allyoop) (7671, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

The night has finally arrived: it is the Jester and Fjord wedding, an event with no surprises whatsoever. Definitely nothing silly. An absolutely completely normal wedding. There are no secrets and definitely no shenanigans.

Reccer says: It's tagged feel good fluff, and that's exactly right. It feels like going to a good wedding of a friend - how you want it to feel- with some nein shenanigans, romantic moments, and dancing

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation. 

And hey, anyone includes you now!

Next week, it's Whump! Just in time for whumptober.

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

[3-2-whump]

The Party

<prev next>

TW/CW: public humiliation, pet whump (I think?), objectification, whumpee on display, whumpee being talked about as if not even there, light microagression towards whumpee (?) This is fun to tag.

By now, Khaled should’ve been used to hearing the faint sound of metallic clinking as he walked. His owner used to bind his feet in cuffs for nearly a year straight when he had first come into his home, leaving just enough chain in between to walk comfortably and not an inch more. That was nearly six years ago, yet even hearing the faint shk shk shk of shimmering chains whenever he moved mentally transported him back to boyhood, when he was scared, shy, and didn’t know what was going on or what was expected of him. Much like tonight.

“Stand up straight, pick up your feet, and don’t look so glum,” Thomas chided.

Easy for you to say, Khaled thought as he eyed his fully dressed owner in envy. The mafia boss was dressed in a three-piece suit as usual, though he had changed into one of the more expensive ones for tonight’s function, a charity ball of some sort. The garnets set into his golden cufflinks glowed like freshly shed blood under the foyer’s lights as he gestured at him.

Khaled wore gold and garnets of his own, except they were…everywhere. They were in his earrings, in his nose ring, studded like pomegranate seeds in his necklace, acting as connection points in the harness-like body chain draped over his bare chest and torso –he was covered in them and still felt naked. A sheer and silky fabric tied unskillfully around his waist matched the color of the sanguine jewels and provided the only shred of modesty in this obscene outfit. Khaled prayed it would not fall off, but he did not favor his chances.

At least I get a break from that chastity cage, he consoled himself.

He straightened his posture and adopted a more neutral expression. His master smiled. “Good boy,” he said, and yet the usual praise did not ease the nervous churning in his gut. The golden bracelets on his wrists, matching the bands on his ankles, clinked softly as the man reached out to squeeze his hands in reassurance. “You look beautiful,” was all he said to him before he dropped his hand and parted the large doors to the ballroom.

Khaled’s skin seared hot under the chandelier lights as he felt the gaze of every patrons’ eyes on him. Keeping his eyes focused on some neutral midpoint ahead of him –like that potted plant, yeah, is that even real? –he followed his master into the fray, swallowing nervously as he heard the heavy doors close behind him. It felt like everyone was staring at him, and from the glances he dared to take from his periphery, he understood why. Every other patron was dressed in formal attire. Even the few escorts he saw -and he could recognize a fellow sex worker when he saw one- were dressed more modestly than him. At least their chests were covered! His face burned with embarrassment, a blush that probably rivaled the cerise garnets, all the way down to his collarbones.

The boss stopped, finally, and so did he as they settled into the corner of the ballroom. They stood next to the bar and very close to the table laid out with several dozen little canapes. Khaled’s stomach loudly rumbled and his mouth pooled with saliva just looking at them. He hadn’t eaten since lunch, which was nearly eight hours ago. He glanced at his master, who was currently receiving a glass of whiskey from the bartender, and he carefully stretched a hand out to reach for the tartlet-thing closest to him.

“No.” His bracelets jingled as his hand was swatted away like he was a misbehaving pet. His master stared down at him as he threw back the shot of whiskey. Khaled drew his hand back to his side. “I’ll feed you when we get home, if you’ve been good, that is.” He sighed, but reluctantly nodded. He cast his gaze down to his sandaled feet as he tried not to think about the ever-present food and the persistent gnawing of his stomach.

A pair of expensive black leather shoes stepped into the top of his vision. “Thomas, so glad you could make it,” the unseen stranger greeted.

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world,” his owner replied, a polite smile in the tone of his voice.

“So, who’s this?” The stranger’s attentions were on him.

“This,” he said boastfully, “is my darling, my dearest, my worst-kept secret!” Khaled wanted to shrink away from the attention, but has master’s hand on his waist reminded him not to. “Come on, Khaled!” He summoned his courage to look up. An older man with a pot belly and a short, dour-faced wife on his arm was appraising him curiously, as if he was an exotic item and not a person. Smile, damn it, an impatient voice rang in his head. He flashed them a shy smile as he looked at them through his kohl-rimmed lashes.

“Your intern?”

“My ‘intern’,” his master clarified.

“He’s a pretty one, how long have you had him?”

“Oh, about six years now, come this spring.”

“Wow! Well, you’ve obviously been taking great care of him!” It was so obvious that this stranger wanted to do more than just look at him, with the way his fat fingers practically vibrated in excitement.

 “Six years?!” a second guest –a tall and thin woman– gasped. Khaled realized by now they had attracted a small crowd of partygoers to the bar, all with the intent to sneak a peek at Don Costa’s boy toy. He ducked his head in shame.

“Mine didn’t even last six months!” the woman whined, trying to garner sympathy.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I just got lucky, I guess,” Thomas shrugged.

“Tell us, how is he in bed?” another guest asked.

“Good, though there’s not much skill in lying back and taking it!” A chorus of laughter accompanied his master’s. He found a scuff on the hardwood floor and pretended that was the only thing that existed.

“Does he speak?” yet another faceless guest asked. The whole semicircle of gawkers fell silent. Khaled dared to look up. All eyes were on him.

“Well, go on, boy, say something,” his master directed.

Khaled wanted nothing more than for the earth to swallow him whole.

“W-what should I say?” he asked nervously.

An irreverent number of oohs and aahs erupted from the small entourage.

“Not even the faintest hint of an accent!” the first man exclaimed. “Now tell me, Tom, did you train him to speak that well?”

“No,” his owner admitted, “I mean, I hired a tutor to teach him English, but he trained the accent out of himself on his own.”

“Why, though?”

The stretch of awkward silence indicated they were waiting yet again for Khaled to speak, that they wanted him to answer. Khaled shifted his eyes to the floor again, swallowing past the discomfort of being scrutinized this closely. “Because… I didn’t want to stand out.”

-

“You were amazing!” Thomas complimented Khaled as he watched him shovel take-out falafel pita into his mouth like it was his first meal in days.

“So, this was just a one-time thing, right?” his beloved slave asked, cheeks distended with half-chewed falafel.

“Hey, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Thomas chastised him, “I trained you better than that.”

Khaled swallowed the food and apologized under his breath. “And to answer your question, who knows? They couldn’t keep their eyes off you,” he smirked pridefully. I couldn’t keep my eyes off you, either. He glanced from the road over to his passenger in the car. Khaled had looked every bit as alluring as he had imagined when he was covered in gold and jewels and blood red silk. He would never admit he was hard for nearly the entire time they were at the party, but the evidence probably spoke for itself through the bulge in his slacks. “It’s no wonder though. Red is a good color on you.” And I want to see what you look like in blue next, he mentally added. “I just might drag you out to other parties in the future if we get attention like that.”

Khaled set his stub of a pita down on his lap. Thomas couldn’t help but grimace; what if it left a stain? “Do I have to dress like this again?” the young man asked, though his defeated tone told him he already knew the answer.

“Oh, don’t be so sad about it, you were gorgeous!” I thought about nothing but how to get you alone for the entire time we were there!

“I was nearly naked, Master. In public. In front of strangers. Does that not bother you?”

“So? I like to show off what’s mine,” he shrugged. “Look, when you’re free, you can choose to wear whatever you want, but until then, you’ll put on whatever I give you, okay?” Khaled slumped further into the car seat. Maybe it was a bit cruel to tease him with the freedom he’d never willingly give him. Thomas sighed, feeling a little guilty. He reached out a hand to pat a silk-covered thigh. “It won’t be very often, I promise,” he reassured him.

“Yes, Master,” his pet murmured.Thomas smiled. At the red light, he leaned over to kiss the side of Khaled’s sauce-stained lips.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee

[unsociabletrash]

Emeto list

Thought I'd post this now. I've got quite the list building up, and frequently add to it. Enjoy!

Anime:

Tokyo Ghoul

S1, Ep 1 (15:20)

S1, Ep 2 (0:14, 13:29)

S1, Ep 3 (7:57)

S3, Ep 9 (17:57)

S3, Ep 15 (14:10)

Saiki K

S1, Ep 2 (5:18)

S1, Ep 12 (10:10)

S1, Ep 17 (20:10)

S2, Ep 6 (9:04)

S2, Ep 11 (2:47)

My Hero Academia

S1, Ep 3 (11:28)

S2, Ep 25 (37 - 6:53)

S5, Ep 20 (108 - 9:00)

S5, Ep 21 (109 - 17:49)

S5, Ep 23 (111 - 19:49)

Haikyuu

S1, Ep 3 (21:16)

S1, Ep 5 (22:15)

S2, Ep 12 (1:20)

OVA (vs Failing Marks - 21:16)

S2, Ep 17 (16:22)

Black Butler

S1, Ep 5 (7:32)

S2, Ep 5(29 - 18:37)

S3, Ep 5 (41 - 17:39)

S3, Ep 9 (45 - 19:51)

Jujutsu Kaisen

Ep 23 (13:40)

Attack on Titan

S1, Ep 5 (11:04)

S3, Ep 39 (10:17)

S3, Ep 49 (15:17)

S3, Ep 56 (4:45)

S4, Ep 62 (10:38)

S4, Ep 83 (20:20)

Bungou Stray Dogs

S1, Ep 11 (15:17)

S4, Ep 37 (12:42)

S5, Ep 52 (4:58, 5:30)

Welcome To the Ballroom

Ep 22 (7:48)

Gintama

Ep 2 (5:53)

Ep 35 (16:48)

Ep 57 (9:09)

Ep 65 (15:35)

Ep 239 (4:54, 6:09, 7:19)

Ep 252 (9:17)

Naruto

S1, Ep 11 (9:15)

S2, Ep 2 (28 - 12:42)

S2, Ep 6 (32 - 2:40)

Re: Zero

Ep 5 (22:55)

Ep 8 (15:38)

Ep 15 (0:33)

Ep 37 (3:42)

Ep 38 (16:54)

Evangelion 3.0+1.0

(24:05, 30:23)

Black Lagoon

S1, Ep 1 (19:28)

S2, Ep1 (18:15)

Run with the Wind

Ep 7 (3:09)

Ep 12 (11:08)

Ep 16 (13:46)

Zombie Land Saga

S2 Ep 1 (11:56)

Deadman Wonderland

Ep 5 (19:28, 21:24)

Mob Psycho 100

S2 Ep 6 (17:48)

S3, Ep 8 (1:30)

Beyond the Boundary

Ep 6 (12:47)

The God of Highschool

Ep 5 (0:57)

Rent-a-Girlfriend

Ep 18 (16:54, 19:33)

The Eden of Grisaia

Ep 3 (4:43, 11:01, 13:34)

Chainsaw Man

Ep 7 (19:27)

Number24

Ep 11 (20:14)

One Piece (whump)

Zoro: Ep 402 (22:35), Ep 403 (22:50)

Luffy: Ep 393 (8:08) Live Action

Ep 2 (38:16)

Ep 4 (26:00, 33:56)

Ep 5 (37:50)

Kdrama & etc:

KinnPorsche

Ep 2 (37:45)

Ep 4 (47:34)

Ep 9 (4:42, 24:53)

Danger Zone: The Dark Night

Ep 1 (13:54, 19:30)

Live action/Sitcom:

It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia

S6, Ep 1 (18:02)

S6, Ep 4 (15:10)

S6, Ep 7 (18:00)

S7, Ep 2 (10:05)

S9, Ep 7 (14:56)

How I Met Your Mother

S1, Ep 15 (17:33)

S2, Ep 16 (10:07)

S5, Ep 17 (15:34)

S6, Ep 6 (6:49)

S9, Ep 1 (6:08)

S9, Ep 8 (12:57)

S9, Ep 17 (1:00)

Supernatural

S2, Ep 3 (6:30)

S2, Ep 11 (20:22)

S3, Ep 9 (21:30)

S4, Ep 8 (21:18)

S5, Ep 21 (9:37)

S6, Ep 5 (37:50)

S6, Ep 15 (7:38)

S8, Ep 12 (10:05)

S9, Ep 23 (2:52)

S11, Ep 10 (8:33)

S11, Ep 17 (30:52)

S15, Ep 10 (24:20)

The magicians

S3, Ep 3 (38:22)

[suspensefulpen]

Ballroom Waltz

TW: Discussions of Torture and Kidnapping, Bad Caretaker, Multiple Whumpers

“I really think you should meet them.” Caretaker nodded with a smile. “I think you’d like them a lot.” 

“They sound interesting.” Whumper One hummed before taking a sip of his champagne. He glanced to his right, scanning over all of the faces on the dance floor. “You got me out here, I would at least like to see them. You make them seem like they’re the best thing on this Earth.” 

“Oh, they are.” Caretaker nodded again. “They’re quite wonderful. I’ve known them for about four or five years now. They’re really sweet.” 

“Is that right?” Whumper One squinted at him. “Since when do we keep secrets from each other Caretaker?” 

“I know, I know. But you’ve been so distant lately, especially with me moving away and all. I thought maybe you didn’t want to be bothered. So I just kept it to myself.” Caretaker shrugged, looking down in his own glass. “I kind of miss the good old days Whumper One.” 

He turned his gaze back to the sea of people waltzing out on the dance floor. “Is that why you bought this building?” 

“Yeah… Kind of.” Caretaker nodded. “I just wanted to relive a few memories with you. I realize that’s the only way to get you to come out anymore.” 

Whumper One smiled. “You know I like to have fun, Caretaker. How could I turn such an invitation down?” 

“That’s why I asked you to come.” He smiled back. 

Whumper One remembered back when he and Caretaker were young. Whumper Two too. Whumper Two always threw balls every weekend just so the three of them could have fun. During every one of them, they’d pluck out a lucky guest to torture for a couple of weeks. They always picked a stray. One that no one would notice if they suddenly went missing. Once they were finished having fun, they’d toss them aside and move on to a new one. And of course, they made sure the guest wouldn’t make a peep about what happened to them. If they so much as thought about it, their life would be on the line. 

One night they found themselves a guest lingering near them way longer than necessary. Without a second thought, they quickly made them their target. That night was the biggest mistake of their lives. 

Whumper One cleared his throat, attempting to ignore the pain slowly seeping into his calf. “So, have you heard from Whumper Two lately?” 

“Whumper Two told me he would be here. He should be on his way.” 

“So exactly what part of our memories did you want to relive?” He faced Caretaker again, giving him a look. “The part where we danced the night away, getting as drunk as we possibly can? Or the part after that?” 

Caretaker smirked behind his glass. “I think you know which part I mean.” He took a sip. “I say we do that. But we add a little aftercare afterward?” 

“Aftercare…” Whumper One repeated, as if the word was unfamiliar to him. 

“Yes,” Caretaker nodded. “Think about it. What’s more scary? Knowing you’ll be hurt, or not knowing who you can actually trust?” His smirk turned wicked. 

Whumper One tried his best to hold back a laugh. “And here I was thinking you felt like you were getting too old for this. And that was why you moved away.” 

“Isolation.” He raised a brow at Caretaker. “Think about it, Whumper One. We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one can hear a thing. Last time won’t happen again. Even if they do scream. Everyone will be too busy dancing and drinking to even pay it any mind. Nobody would even care.” 

“And this person you’ve been talking about…they aren’t actually your friend are they?” Whumper One narrowed his eyes. Silence followed his question as Caretaker shifted his attention elsewhere, his smirk never faltering. Whumper One only laughed. “You’ve gotten worse than me.” 

“I can’t blow my cover yet though. I’ll let you and Whumper Two take the lead.” 

“So you’re not gonna help at all?” He raised a brow. 

“Oh I will. I absolutely will. I’ll feed you information.” 

Whumper One slowly began to realize Caretaker’s plan. So that’s what this aftercare thing is all about. This is all so we can break them more easily. This was also why he never told me about them and pretended to be their friend. He was planning all of this from the beginning. Whumper One smirked. “You’re a real sick bastard, you know that?” 

“I learned from the sickest.” Caretaker’s own smirk turned into a soft grin. He made eye contact. “You can break someone more than physically, you know.” 

“You know what, I–” 

“They’re here. Stay there.” Caretaker whispered before walking away. Whumper One watched him walk across the room to the person standing cluelessly by the door. He squinted as the two greeted each other before Caretaker began ushering them towards Whumper One. When they got closer, Whumper One noticed how well dressed they were. Draped in fine fabrics from head to toe, one could only assume the amount of wealth they had. They were very beautiful as well. It was a bit hard to ignore that. Whumper One imagined they looked just as beautiful when they were crying. “Whumpee, this is my great friend, Whumper One.” 

Whumpee smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Whumper One. Caretaker talks a lot about you.” 

Whumper One did his best to suppress the surprise in both his tone and his expression. Not only were they gorgeous, they had an angelic voice to go with it. “Is that right? I’m assuming they were all of my failures and embarrassments.” 

“No, of course not.” They shook their head. “He tells me a lot about how you two grew up together and you were really close friends.” 

Whumper One glanced up and the grin Caretaker wasn’t even trying to hide. He stood straighter, adjusting his suit jacket. “Well it’s nice to meet you too. Any friend of Caretaker’s is a friend of mine.” Whumper One placed his glass down on a nearby servant’s empty tray. He held his hand out. “How about a dance? We get to know each other for a bit, yeah?” 

Whumpee looked surprised but took his hand anyway. “Oh, alright. Sure.” 

Whumper One led them out onto the dance floor. He quickly noted how much smaller Whumpee was compared to him, only coming up to his shoulder. He threw a smirk over his shoulder at Caretaker. 

This should be fun.

Part 2

[painsandconfusion]

Heyyyy Raven! Saw your post about masquerade/ballroom whump and I'm just obsessed with it! I'd honestly love to write something with my two ocs for this, would you mind if I posted it on ao3 when it's done with a link to your post to credit your ideas? I'll also post on tumblr so you can read it if you wanted

- ❄️

Oh, absolutely! I'd love if you send the link in an ask as well so we can all enjoy! Thank you so much!!

[not-sure-what-im-feeling]

Ultimate Writing Masterlist

Hi! This is my masterlist of all my writing I’ve posted. Enjoy!

Sanders sides fanfiction:

(in order of oldest to newest)

Of Stars and Earth — Logan is the main character, god au, logicality, unfinished, Ao3 link. 3/? Chapters and 4,920 words.

Hey bbg — Prinxiety, heavy angst, it’s whump really, completed, Ao3 link. 1,963 words. [Disclaimer: i don’t really like hey bbg, but you are welcome to read it regardless. Once again— i don’t like this one 😭]

What if we cuddled in the tech booth — Prinxiety, hurt/comfort, completed, Ao3 link. 518 words.

Just Fine — Analogical, hurt/comfort, Logan angst, completed, Ao3 link. 1,198 words.

Complimentary — Logan is the main character, Orange is a character here, some light angst, unfinished(?), Ao3 link. 2/? Chapters and 2,018 words.

A Cup of Cold Tea (and a Warm Heart) — Whump, heavy angst, Whumpee Patton, caretaker Janus, post-whump, completed and also unfinished at the same time, Ao3 link. 746 words.

You Look Like You Could Use a Hand — Analogical, accessory swap, fluff, as in pure tooth rotting fluff it’s insane, completed, Ao3 link. 538 words.

Caught in the Cobwebs — Moceit, Virgil is a bitch, Janus is a bitch, Post Anxceit, completed, Ao3 link. 2/2 Chapters and 932 words.

Helpless — Patton whump again, it’s tied into a cup of cold tea, whump, Whumpee Patton, failed escape, completed, Ao3 link. 593 words.

Alone — Whump, Whumpee Patton, tied into a cup of cold tea, solitary confinement, completed, Ao3 link. 359 words.

(Not) a Dog — Analogical, Janus is a bitch, Virgil is a bitch, they both kind of suck here, dehumanization, hurt/comfort, completed, Ao3 link, 976 words.

i dont wanna be your friend — Prinxiety, genderswap, drunk confessions, love confessions, the two are named Rose and Victoria (roman and Virgil) and are absolute dorks of lesbians, completed, 4/4 chapters, Ao3 link, 4476 words

the hand that feeds deserves to be bitten when it beats— Whump, Virgil is getting beat up, self-insert, you are the one hurting him, please mind the warnings, dehumanization, muzzles, biting, blood, completed, Ao3 link, 1107 words.

Remember Your Place — Whump, Roman is getting beat up, please mind the warnings, dehumanization, pet whump, royal/manor whump, ballroom whump, incomplete, 1/? chapters. Ao3 link, 1454 words.

Original writing

The ivory isle — Uncompleted, Royal Road link, 1/? Chapters.

To Be Hated — the ivory isle snippet, takes place after the story, tbh you can read this but it probably won’t make much sense, Tumblr link. 2045 words.

Oh no. — snippet for my #blessed ocs, Tumblr link. 735 words.

Weaknesses and Trustings — Whump, generic whump, nameless characters, intoxication, creepy Whumper, nothing suggestive or nsfw though, Tumblr link. 1027 words.

There Isn’t Any Music — Whump, generic whump, death, nameless characters, Tumblr link. 357 words.

[themerrywhumpofmay]

Merry Whump of May

Spring 2023 Prompt List!

It's May, everyone!! Due to personal and technical difficulties, we're getting the list to you DAY ONE. WOW!

So sorry for the delay, but we have every confidence that despite this short notice, you'll all be able to put out some amazing work this year!

Without further ado, welcome to The Merry Whump of May!

Text ID:

Merry Whump of May

Spring 2023

A month-long whump writing event by @wormwriting and @painsandconfusion.

Extemporaneous style this year-!!

Write, draw, or otherwise create content based on the daily prompts! Participants and completionists will receive badges of honor for their work at the end of the month.

Create original content or fanfiction, all is welcome!

Rules

Tag each day's post with #themerrywhumpofmay, any necessary content warning (eg: #knife), and the day in the following format: #mwmday1)

Adult topics are allowed, but must be well tagged. Send a message to @themerrywhumpofmay if you'd like a second opinion.

Be kind, have fun!

Prompts:

Day One - “No pain, no gain.”

Compass

Haphephobia

Kitchen

Day Two - “Need a ride?

Wrench          

Paranoia         

Club   

Day Three - “You're not looking so hot.”

Lightbulb

Tension

Alleyway

Day Four - “Two birds, one bullet.”

Chess Pieces

Stubborn

Tower 

Day Five - “Do unto others as you would bla bla bla...”

Bow and Arrow

Stalking

Cavern

Day Six - “It's a long story.”

Knife Handle

Gagged

Under the table

Day Seven - “Write what you know.”

Box

Magic

Cell

Day Eight - “Did you read the fine print?”

Circle 

Blinded

Field

Day Nine - “We'll burn that bridge when we get there.”

Collar

Lost

Roof

Day Ten - “Hit the hay.”

Key

Forgetting

Warehouse     

Day Eleven - “Ready set go!”

Plastic bag

Overheating

Restaurant

Day Twelve - “Tabled for Later.”

Thumbtack

Panic attack

Ballroom        

Day Thirteen - “You've made your bed, now bleed in it.”

Sander

Found

Safe Place

Day Fourteen - “Well, well, well...”

Barbed Wire   

Starvation

Drain

Day Fifteen - “The power of god and anime”

Hammer

Over-Exhaustion

Hammer

Day Sixteen - “Take a break.”

Branding Iron

Moonlight

Cemetery       

Day Seventeen - “Going down in flames.”

Pole

Regret

Fireplace

Day Eighteen - “No use crying over spilled blood.”

Cage

Claustrophobia

Ship

Day Nineteen - “Apples and oranges.”

Chainsaw

Surprise

Home Base

Day Twenty - “A taste of your own medicine.”

Zip ties           

Bleeding out  

Office

Day Twenty-one - “Devil's advocate.”

Tome

Desperation

Hiking trail.

Day Twenty-two - “You can lead a bitch to water, but you can't make them drink.”

Origami

Amnesia

Attic   

Day Twenty-three - “Good things come to those who wait.”

Nine-inch-nails

Isolation

Creepy basement

Day Twenty-four - “Bent out of shape.”

Tent Spike

Dragged

Wrong place, wrong time

Day Twenty-five - “It takes two to tango.”

Hot coffee

Doubt

In line

Day Twenty-six - “Hammer time.”

Pocket watch  

Itchy

Waiting room

Day Twenty-seven - “Second mouse get the cheese.”

Knife

Rug burn

Skyscraper

Day Twenty-eight - “A picture's worth a thousand words.”

Chair

Paranoia

Backseat         

Day Twenty-nine - “Lost and Found

Blowtortch

Frostbite

Lake

Day Thirty - “Rain check.”

High heels

Strained

The backroom

Day Thirty-one - “Thin ice.”

Lighter

Chronic pain

Dead end

Alternative Prompt List

Titles  

“Questions? Comments? Concerns? Complaints?”

“Time dies when you're having fun.”

“A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.”

“Can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs.”

“Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match.”

Items                                      

Wine Glass

Hydrochloric acid

Magnet

Teacup

Wire

Conditions

Sensory deprivation

Blindfolded

Acrophobia

Failed escape

Distress

Locations

The Middle of Nowhere

Forest

Void

Sidewalk

Shortcut

[imtiredofcanon]

✨ Masterpost – All My Works! ✨

Too Tired To Canon, but never too tired for suffering.

Hello! It’s me, ImTired776. Welcome to the official (somewhat organized) masterpost of my works! Here, you can browse by character, check out my latest writing disasters, and—if you’re feeling brave—send me an ask.

I love hearing what people think—whether it’s a theory, a prediction, or just a random thought that popped into your head. So if anything I write makes you go “Wait… does this mean…?” or “Oh no, I have a feeling about this…” please share!

Ask Questions! Send Thoughts! Give Theories!

If you have emotions, I wanna hear them. If you don’t have emotions, I’ll supply them. Fics under cut.

🦅 Starscream

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings (WIP)

Read on AO3 | 20,951 words | 16/? chapters

Summary: Starscream suffers a severe head injury, and both the Decepticons and Autobots have to deal with the consequences. Tags: Whump, Medical Inaccuracies, Angst, "It gets worse before it gets worse."

Isn’t That Stupid? (Complete)

Read on AO3 | Short Fic | 1/1 chapters

Summary: Starscream is sent on a mission and gets defeated by ice. That’s it. That’s the fic. Tags: Hurt/No Comfort, Open Ending

Jazz & Prowl

When The Adrenaline Fades (WIP)

Read on AO3 | 2,890 words | 2/3 chapters

Summary: Jazz almost gets deleted while trying to keep Prowl conscious after a major injury. Tags: Blood Loss, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Battle Recovery

I've Never Seen RED Before (Complete)

Read on AO3 | 2,100 words | 1/1 chapters

Summary: Prowl discovers Jazz is actually an organic and goes straight into denial. (Mulan Reveal) Tags: Angst, Blood & Injury, Inspired by Mecha Pilot Jazz AU

💃 Caught in the Crescendo (Complete)

Read on AO3 | 1,121 words | 1/1 chapters

Summary: Jazz and Prowl go undercover at an elite gala and are forced to tango. Tags: Ballroom Dancing, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Undercover Missions

Another One Bites the Compactor (Complete)

Read on AO3 | 1,910 words | 2/2 chapters

Summary: Prowl gets paralyzed by a gadget, dumped in a car impound lot, and almost dies. Tags: Major Character Injury, Angst, Unethical Use of Car Compactors

Dead End & Perceptor

Nothing but a Casualty (Complete)

Read on AO3 | 816 words | 1/1 chapters

Summary: Dead End, injured and exhausted, asks Perceptor a painful question. Tags: Blood & Injury, Open Ending, No Comfort

Heart of the Wild (WIP – Barbarian AU!)

Read on AO3 | 4,113 words | 1/? chapters

Summary: Dead End, a battle-worn hunter, is captivated by a mech from another tribe—Perceptor. A language barrier and culture clash make things complicated. Tags: Slow Romance, Action/Adventure, Cultural Differences, Kidnapping (but like… not really?)

Ask & Interact!

I love hearing what’s on your mind—whether it’s:

Predictions for my WIPs

Scene interpretations and wild takes

"Hold on…" moments

Random emotions my writing inflicted on you

Got thoughts? Theories? Feelings? Send me an ask! 💌

[actress4him]

Stabmas 2024 - The Shadow of Death - Cinderella AU

It's the second annual celebration of Stabmas, hosted by the Slices of Whump discord server!

And yes, yet another new Brumaria AU. Bruno, as always, belongs to the brilliant and lovely Izzy (painful-pooch), and she wrote a good bit of his dialogue for this.

Happy Ides of March, everyone!

Taglist: @painful-pooch , @sssunshinebreeze

The Shadow of Death Masterlist

Contains: referenced lady whump, dude whump, stabbing, mild blood, referenced parental abuse, referenced noncon touch, touch aversion, referenced mass murder

.

.

A million stars fill the night sky, a full moon illuminating the cobblestone drive and the tips of each of the castle’s spires. The heat of the day has faded, cool air brushing Kamaria’s bare shoulders and arms. 

It’s a perfect night for a ball. Or so most of Ethorcon seems to think, judging by the number of carriages parked outside, awaiting their owners. 

Kamaria marches past them all, uncaring of what the drivers and footmen may think of her less than dignified arrival. Reaching the steps, she hitches up the heavy silk skirts of her mother’s borrowed dress, only pausing her momentum once she reaches the towering front doors. The uniformed man standing there gives her an odd look. When she merely nods at him, doing her best to look down her nose like nobility are wont to do, he gives a slight bow and tugs open one door to let her inside.

The entrance hall by itself could fit her father’s entire manor inside, she’s fairly certain. Everything gleams, from the marble floor that she can nearly see her reflection in, to the golden ceiling high above. A magnificent waste of money, on display for all to see. 

That’s nothing new to her, though. Nobility all think the same - why waste your riches on helping people who desperately need it, when you can spend it all on flaunting your status?

She’s arrived late out of more than one necessity. First off, she had to wait until her father had taken the carriage to come this way, himself, before she could even start getting herself ready and make the long walk. But more importantly, the ball is already well under way. No one but a few staff members have noticed her entrance. She doesn’t have to mingle with the rich, doesn’t have to be announced, and of course, doesn’t have as much of a risk of running into her father. 

There’s a gold-framed mirror hanging on the wall to her right. Kamaria takes one last glimpse at herself, avoiding actually looking at her face in favor of adjusting the stiff dress and brushing back a few stray curls.

Then she takes a deep breath, skims her hand across the knife hidden safely in the folds of her skirt, and forges further into the castle.

She has a prince to find.

She expects him to be in the ballroom, right in the thick of the festivities. After all, this entire spectacle is about him. King Tristan is determined to find him a wife, and every eligible young lady around is here throwing themselves at his feet tonight. 

Technically Kamaria fits that description, as well, but she has no intentions or delusions of marrying. Even if she did, Prince Bruno is the absolute last person on earth that she’d ever consider.

It isn’t hard to find the ballroom. All she has to do is follow the sound of lilting music, which grows into a cacophony of instruments, murmuring, laughter, and the clinking of glasses the closer she gets. The doors are thrown open wide, with a few guests spilling out into the corridor.

Kamaria stiffens when she sees them, adjusting her posture and expression. The last thing she needs, when she’s finally this close, is to be called out for not belonging. Her heart pounds, but she reminds herself of the reflection she just saw.

For tonight, she is as noble as her blood. No one can see the scars on her back or the callouses on her hands. No dirt or ash smears her cheeks. She looks the part of a lady, and so long as she plays it, no one should be the wiser.

Swallowing hard, she edges her way into the ballroom, but stays on the outskirts, slowly circling the room. Beyond a few columns on one side is an open section that no one seems to be utilizing, too eager to press into the center and be near all of the action. Kamaria gladly takes it for herself. It’s no quieter, but the lighting is dim and it feels much safer than being within the crowd. From here, she can linger in the shadows and still see everything.

There’s a dance ongoing, couples swirling by in a dizzying whirl of color. The prince will likely be out there, dancing with some lucky girl who’s caught his attention. He doesn’t seem to be with the king and queen, sitting on their thrones on a platform overlooking the festivities, anyway. 

She has honestly no idea what he looks like. She’s counting on the crown to give him away. Faces are going by too fast to catch from this distance, but she should be able to spot the flash of gold in the torchlight.

“You have the right idea, I believe.”

Kamaria is so caught up in her search that she doesn’t notice the man’s approach until he’s upon her. Jolting, she grabs fistfuls of her skirts and tries to calm her suddenly racing heart, giving a quick sideways glance up at him. She has to think of something civilized to say. 

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” There’s a smile in his voice. “I mean that, uh…this can all get to be a bit…much.” With one finger, he indicates the dancers and the crowd. “Sometimes I need to hide away, too.”

Part of her automatically wants to agree with him, but she can’t give away how very out of place she feels here. “Yes, well, I just…needed to catch my breath for a moment. All that dancing, you know.” She cringes inwardly at how stupid she sounds, but then again, maybe that’s for the best. Let him think she’s just another airheaded noble. She doesn’t really care what he thinks of her as long as he doesn’t call her bluff, she needs him to move on so she can continue looking for the prince. 

“Right.” She can see him shift out of the corner of her eye, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Personally, I’d stay back here the whole night if my father wouldn’t hang me for it.”

Something about the way he says it has her taking a second, longer glance at him, just enough that the golden glint above his brow is quite obvious. Suddenly her heart is in her throat, pulse roaring in her ears. 

It’s him. After all these years, the prince is standing here, right next to her, close enough to touch.

Her fingers itch to reach for the knife, but she can’t. Not yet. Not here.

She clears her throat, trying to find her voice again. “I’d think that you would enjoy all of the attention from so many young ladies, sire.”

He sighs. “Well, if any of them were interested in more than just the position my father is offering them, perhaps I would.” She can feel his gaze on her. “What about you? I’m fairly certain you haven’t attempted to approach me yet. You won’t even look at me now.” He sounds amused. “Am I not what you thought I would be? Or has someone already claimed your hand?”

Drawing in a deep breath to steady herself, she spins abruptly to face him, chin tilted up to meet his gaze. Whatever response she was concocting is gone immediately. His blue eyes light up, and a smile spreads across his face as he voices the exact words running through her mind.

“It’s you.” He chuckles, as if Kamaria’s whole world hasn’t just come screeching to a halt. “I’ll admit, I’d kind of hoped to see you here tonight. I was foolish enough to leave without getting your name before, which made it rather difficult to find you again.”

Her mouth has gone dry. “You…you’re Prince Bruno?” Maybe it’s a misunderstanding. Yes, he has on the crown, and he confirmed that the eligible ladies were here for him, but…maybe she’s made a mistake somehow.

“That would be me.”

Every part of her wants to turn around and leave, to find somewhere quiet where she can process this and decide what to do now. But no, nothing has changed. Her plans haven’t changed, she still has to follow through. Just because an hour conversation with this man had made him seem kind and caring and polite and funny and nothing like any other man she’d ever met, that doesn’t erase the last decade of knowing that he has to die.

“You, um…you failed to mention that you were royalty during our first meeting.” She prays he can’t tell how fast her heart is beating or hear the slight quiver in her words.

The prince gives a sheepish smirk. “Yes, sorry about that. It…didn’t seem relevant at the time? We were having such a nice conversation, and…”

He didn’t want her reaction to him to change by knowing who he was. And he’s right, it definitely would have changed. Just not in the way that he was expecting. 

“Of course.” She tries to force a smile. So far, he doesn’t seem to suspect anything, not even that she’s actually a servant. Thankfully, she’d been presentable that day in the orchard, wearing a clean dress and having just washed her face and braided her hair. She probably looked like a peasant, at best, but then again, he hadn’t been dressed like a prince, either.

She opens her mouth to suggest that they find somewhere quieter to talk, but he speaks before she can get the words out. 

“Would you dance with me?”

Kamaria can feel all of the blood drain from her face. “I…I couldn’t, I don’t…” I don’t know how, she almost blurts, but every lady should know how to dance, right? “I’m…not very good at dancing, I’m afraid, and…” Her eyes flit over the crowd. “There’s…so many people…”

His gaze follows hers. “I understand. A dance with me unfortunately would draw a lot of attention. How about right here, then?” He gestures to the dimly lit space around them. “And don’t worry, I won’t judge your dancing skills.”

What can she even say to that? She has no excuse to say no anymore, none that would be acceptable.

Why does he have to be such a gentleman?

Forcing another half-smile, she reaches out her gloved hand to take his outstretched one. “I’d be honored.”

His hand wraps around hers, engulfing it in warmth, and a tingling sensation shoots all the way up her arm. It makes her automatically want to jerk it back, but she just clenches her jaw and steps in closer. He’s smiling so genuinely, sliding his other hand gently around her waist to rest on her lower back. It feels like ice against her spine. 

Touch like this isn’t usually gentle. It’s usually harsh, possessive, accompanied by Lord Roderick’s leering face and nauseating words. And that’s the only kind she gets, other than her father’s fists striking her. She can’t even remember the last time that someone touched her and it didn’t hurt or repulse her. Even now, with no evidence in his stance or expression that he’ll change from exactly what he’s doing right now, she desperately longs to disappear.

But instead, she does exactly as she always does. She stays very still, focuses as hard as she can on her breathing, and pretends not to exist. 

The orchestra begins a new song, a slow, violin-led waltz, and Prince Bruno’s feet start moving in rhythm, pulling her along. “Just follow me,” he murmurs. “And don’t worry if you step on my toes. I have tough feet.”

This is not what she’s supposed to be doing right now. This is the exact opposite of what she should be doing right now. Being held firmly in his arms, swaying and twirling through the shafts of moonlight that illuminate the floor, like two lovers…she feels dizzy, and it’s not from the dance itself. 

He’s a murderer, and a perfect gentleman. She allowed herself to like him, the day they met, to think about him often since then. Now, knowing who he really is, the thought makes her sick. But at the same time, she still feels herself drawn toward him in that same way. The way he looks at her…it’s nothing like she’s ever seen before. He makes her feel wanted, and no one has wanted her in many, many years. 

Kamaria sucks in a sharp breath and pulls her gaze down to his shoulder. If he actually knew who she was - a servant and a Navarian - he wouldn’t want her. Perhaps he’d order her death, like he had dozens of others.

“Are you alright?”

He sounds so concerned, and she can’t take it anymore. She stops abruptly, stepping away and yanking her hand from his grasp like she’s wanted to all along, before she fully realizes what she’s doing. Luckily, she’s granted a plausible reason as soon as she glances past him. A group has gathered between the columns, gawking, apparently having noticed the movement of their dance and realizing that it’s their prince finally dancing with someone. Kamaria stares at them for a moment, heart still pounding, long enough for Prince Bruno to turn and see for himself. 

She has to get out of here. There’s a door in the corner, she has no idea where it leads, but it has to be better than this stuffy room full of curious people and too-loud music. Leaving the prince behind, she lifts her skirts slightly and runs toward it as fast as she dares.

To her immense relief, it lets out onto a large balcony, overlooking the gardens at the back of the castle. Kamaria crosses to the railing and drops her skirts, leaning heavily onto her hands and taking in gulps of the cool evening air. She’s trembling all over. 

The door opens and shuts behind her, and she tenses, fingers gripping the rail. 

“I’m sorry about that. Unfortunately, that kind of attention tends to follow me.”

She swallows and forces her voice to work. “Will they now? Follow you, that is.”

“No.” He’s walking a bit further onto the balcony, but staying back away from her. Giving her space, presumably, because he always seems to somehow know what she needs. “I’ve ordered a guard to hold them off, with the promise that I will return shortly.” There’s a pause, even his footsteps quieting. “But I don’t have to. I don’t actually have to return at all. Will it tick my father off? Yes, but I don’t really care.”

No. No, he doesn’t have to return. He doesn’t deserve to return, doesn’t deserve to keep living his luxurious, perfect life being fawned over by hundreds while her people’s blood stains the ground. 

The knife is out of its hidden pocket and in her hand without her really thinking about it. She turns slowly and begins to walk toward him, the rush of her blood once again filling her ears.

He has to die. It doesn’t matter how good he seems now, he sealed his fate ten years ago. 

He’s leaning against the wall, watching her. She can’t look him in the face, if she does she might falter, and that’s the one thing she can’t do. Close enough to hear his breaths, she places one hand against his arm to brace herself. 

She’s ready. Just like all those times she’s practiced. One sure, swift movement, and the knife is buried in his flesh.

There’s a quiet choking sound, deep in his throat. He sucks in a sharp breath, huffs a laugh. “Was it…something I said?”

Kamaria stares at the knife hilt protruding from the prince’s shoulder, at the bright red blood seeping out from around it, at the blue silk glove on her hand that still holds it. She should pull it out. Stab him again, in the chest, where she’d meant to stab him to start with. 

She can’t seem to do so.

"You're not the first to do that. And I'm sure you're not the last.” He’s still talking, still so bafflingly calm despite the fact that the woman he was flirting with has just stabbed him. “Do you really want me dead? Because you sure didn't think I was a terrible person when we were talking a few weeks ago.”

She’s shaking again. Or still, perhaps. It’s unclear whether or not she ever stopped. 

This is supposed to be her moment. She’s been planning this for so long, been waiting for the perfect chance, and now it’s here and…it’s all wrong.

His hand comes up, slowly, and covers her, wrapping around the knife just as gently as he’d held onto her inside. "How about we talk about this. You can keep the knife there, or not. Preferably, I would like to live after this, but if you are determined enough, I suppose I could go."

Now he doesn’t even care whether she kills him? He wants to talk, rather than just shoving her away, shouting for the guards, having her arrested and hanged?

She shuts her eyes, jaw clenching and unclenching. “You weren’t supposed to be…nice.”

"I wasn't supposed to be a prince either, but things don't work out that way, love. I'm sorry I wasn't a terrible person like some think of me."

Kamaria’s eyes fly open, and she finally looks him in the face, glaring. “You are a terrible person. You killed them. And I’ve been waiting my whole life to return the favor.”

"And who told you what I am?" His brow is furrowed, confusion with flashes of irritation playing across his features. "What would I have succeeded in the death of others? If you think that low of me, then go ahead, twist the knife, or go for something lethal this time."

His hand releases hers in favor of raising both in surrender, obviously moving the left carefully to avoid jostling the knife. "There's nothing I have to hide, my dear. Nothing. If you want answers, then I'll do my best to help you find them. If you want to do away with me once you have your truth, then so be it."

She knows the answers already. She just doesn’t understand them now that she’s here. What if she’s wrong? What if she’s had it wrong all along, and this is really not the man she should have been looking for?

Her eyes search his, looking desperately for the truth. "I don't know. I can't...I can't reconcile the man I met in the orchard with the one who had my family killed. Which one are you? Was everything you said to me...a façade? Or are you going to try to convince me that you've changed, because that was all so long ago? Or that it was a necessary loss for the good of the country?"

"I'm the same man I've always been, the one you met. I have not lied to you since the moment we met, and I don't plan on changing that about myself." He lowers his arms, noticeably gritting his teeth as he does so. More blood oozes out and stains his crisp white shirt. "I did change, but not in the way you imagine. And I would never…what loss would make the country great? Our people are our people. What would there be to gain from killing those that I'm supposed to protect?"

"You tell me!” she spits. “Because those were royal soldiers that burned down the village that night. I was there. I saw them.” The memories of that night are seared into both her mind and her skin. “And all fingers have pointed to you as the one who sent them." She pauses, still watching his face, ready for her next question to reveal his true nature. "Was it because we were Navarian? Because we were outsiders?"

He does react, but not in disgust like she expected. He flinches, as if she’s physically struck him. "I never sent my troops to harm your people." She can almost see the thoughts racing in his mind. "Navarian or not, I swore to protect their lives as well."

He just keeps on denying everything, and Kamaria doesn’t know whether to believe him or stab him again for it. She leans in a little, putting more pressure on the knife. "Then why are they dead?"

Prince Bruno tightly shuts his eyes, the pain obviously getting to him. "Let me figure that out with you. You want justice, and I'll make it happen. I never wanted to hurt people." He opens his eyes to meet hers, and she hates that she can see honesty shining in them. "You have no reason to trust me, but I need you to give me a chance to prove my innocence. Because if I didn't do this, then that means someone else will just let it happen again."

She wants to believe him. She wants to see if he can actually find different answers than the ones she’s always known.

Part of her, the part that has planned his death since she was twelve, also wants to be done with this here and now.

But as she’s debating, the clock tower in the center of town begins to chime. Her attention jerks to it. Midnight. Far later than she ever planned on being here. Her father won’t stay much longer, and she still has to walk all the way back home. If she’s not there when he gets there…

“Fine.” It’s an effort to pry her fingers away from the knife, but she does so, taking two steps back. “You have your chance. If you didn’t kill them, then find out who did. And I’ll find out if you’re lying to me.”

She has to go. She doesn’t know whether to hope that she ever sees his face again, or not. But she turns, hurrying toward the door on the other end of the balcony, one that doesn’t lead back into the ballroom. 

"Wait, can I at least have your name this time? I want to find who hurt your people, and I want to be able to tell you when I do."

Her steps slow, then stop, and she stares at the ground, debating what to tell him. If he comes looking for her, he’ll know that she’s a fraud, a pathetic lord’s daughter being used as a servant in her own home. Maybe he won’t even want to help her anymore.

She should tell him something, though. And since her father refuses to call her by her real, Navarian name anyway… “Kamaria.” That will have to do. She’ll just find him herself as soon as she can get away, and make sure he’s holding himself to his vow.

She looks back over her shoulder at the prince, still leaning heavily against the wall with her knife sticking out of him. “Don’t let me down.”

Without waiting for an answer, she shoves through the door and runs off into the night.