#lady whump (brief)

[whumpshaped]

hi i wrote fanfiction of you can't follow your heart if there's a stake through it by my beloved friend @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night (go read it its so good) because jacob was so gross i had to steal rurik

tw kidnapping mention, captivity, lady whump (brief), nonhuman (vampire) whumpee, murder, betrayal, implied future torment and conditioning

Zoya took a deep breath, trying to talk herself out of this whole thing one last time. She had so many reasons not to go into the hunters’ lair; like wanting to protect the half of a life she’d been cursed with when she was turned, or even just the fact that she didn’t necessarily know Rurik Markarovich. On the other hand… she’d seen the same hunter circle the vampire’s gravesite many times, entirely unlike how she’d known those kinds of people to go about such a thing.

Usually a hunter would find an empty coffin and immediately return the next day to stake its owner, similarly to vampires killing the foolish things on sight. This one was bizarre. This one came back several times, lay in the coffin, stuffed his pockets full of the dirt of Rurik’s burial ground, acting almost like a lovestruck teenager. Zoya didn’t know Rurik, but she was growing more and more concerned for the other vampire.

Finding out a hunter’s identity wasn’t something she had ever done before. It wasn’t impossible, but it wasn’t such an easy task that she would’ve attempted it just for the fun of it. When she got a hold of the name Jacob Amity, the dopamine rush of a job well done was drowned out by the little voice in the back of her mind that said, “Why did you even bother? What are you going to do with information you had no need for?” Now, staring up at the ominous building full of humans specialised in killing her kind, she still didn’t know what she was doing.

Maybe she was mistaken. Maybe this was a suicide mission she was about to embark on in vain, because maybe Rurik was completely fine, and she just hadn’t bumped into him for a while. Maybe he’d moved on, and that was why his casket was also missing. The idea that a hunter would’ve kidnapped one of them was something unheard of, and Zoya briefly wondered whether she’d lost her mind. Jacob Amity seemed obsessed with Rurik, but what use was kidnapping a bloodthirsty monster? What use was keeping him alive when he was a threat to all humans’ safety? Surely, if he had gotten his hands on Rurik, Rurik was dead.

The sound of footsteps approaching from the other side of the door forced her to make the decision quickly, turning into a small, unnaturally coloured butterfly to escape the fate of so many of her acquaintances. She knew the hunters would take notice even of a creature that was supposedly alive, so she tried to settle on the handle of the heavy door, thinking she would be able to make her way inside from there before the hunters closed it again.

The handle burned her thin little insect legs as if it were fire, and she lifted herself back into the air without the string of curses that would’ve usually accompanied such a mistake, had she been in her more humanoid form. Of course the door was silver, what else would the door of a hunter stronghold be made of? She flew further up, deciding to simply circle around in the air above the hunters’ heads and hope they weren’t going to look up.

The door opened shortly after, three women in full hunting gear exiting the building without a level of precaution Zoya would’ve expected. Well, all the better for her plan, she wasn’t going to settle on their shoulder and explain vampire-safety.

She just managed to escape being crushed by the door on the way in, cutting it a little too close for her taste. This whole adventure was a little too much, and as the bang of the heavy thing shutting behind her echoed in the narrow corridors, she wondered whether it would even be worth it; even if she somehow found and saved the strange, possibly-in-trouble vampire. It wasn’t her responsibility, Rurik wasn’t her family, in fact, Rurik’s kind was the one who had turned her into some half-dead monster, fated to watch her actual family banish her and slowly die of old age while she lived on, feasting on the blood of innocents.

Zoya would’ve sighed if a butterfly was capable of such a feat. She was an idiot.

Following the sound of Jacob Amity’s voice was easy, even through layers of walls and closed doors. There was something about him that grated on her nerves from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him, something sinister and deranged, something even worse than the dead walking the earth at night. She could hear another voice as well, one she assumed had to be Rurik’s– no, that was jumping to conclusions based on the story she’d fabricated in her head days prior. It could’ve been any other hunter with a deeper voice. And a Russian accent.

Okay, maybe it was Rurik.

She turned back in front of the door she was sure would be hiding her… acquaintance, immediately getting reminded of her scorched feet and crying out in pain before she could stop herself. The conversation inside the room came to a screeching halt, and she could soon hear someone carefully approach the door. Unfortunately for her, she could also hear other hunters moving around, and she tried to get ready to pounce despite her injury. She needed to free Rurik and hope he would be thankful enough to give her a piggyback ride outside.

She realised at the last moment that she knew the hunter’s name. Would he be able to recognise everyone’s voice at the stronghold? Surely not.

“Jacob!” she cried with some urgency she didn’t need to fake. “That vampire you took in, he has friends–”

The door flew open in an instant. “What vampire?” Jacob demanded. “How do you know–”

Zoya grabbed his throat before he could finish his question, crushing his windpipe within a split second. His hand didn’t even find the stake secured to his belt in time. It was clean, efficient, and didn’t put too much strain on her injured feet.

Her gaze landed on the earth-filled casket on one side of the room, then the vampire it belonged to in a corner, shackled and shaking like a leaf. She wasn’t going to get a piggyback ride from someone carrying a whole casket full of dirt, she realised with some disdain. “I’m here to help,” she said in Russian, hoping that their shared mother tongue would invoke feelings of comfort. “Can you walk?”

“Who are you?”

“I’ll tell you later. There are hunters coming. Please, can you walk?”

Rurik got to his feet and showed her the padded silver cuffs. “Can you take these off?”

“If you don’t need them off right now, we’ll get back to it later. Grab your casket and come with me. We need to get out before we both get staked.”

There were no more questions after that. Rurik didn’t even spare the hunter’s corpse a single glance as he lifted his resting place and ran past Zoya in the hallway. She followed him in her animal form, too hurt to attempt to run with him. She turned back before they reached the front door, yelling out, “Don’t touch it! It’s silver!”

Rurik spun around, eyes wide with fear. “How do we get out?”

“Kick it down! I can’t do it for you, my feet are burned, but you can just kick it down and go!”

“Fuck, these things killed Jacob,” Zoya heard from a distance. “Well, I’d say that’s not a big loss overall. Could’ve been worse.” She almost wanted to turn around and give them a piece of her mind on camaraderie, or even not letting widely disliked and gross people into their little hunter union, but she decided against it when she heard the door come crashing down under Rurik’s strength.

They didn’t stop until they were far away from the stronghold, hidden deep within the woods where Zoya’s casket lay. Rurik put his own next to it, collapsing from either exhaustion or fear. She sat next to him, gently taking his wrist in her hands, examining the silver cuff.

“I don’t know how to get these off,” she admitted quietly, and her new friend gave a dejected little sob in response. “I’m sorry.”

“Who are you?” he asked again, desperate to find footing in a situation he probably didn’t understand in the slightest.

“My name is Zoya. You, uh, you don’t really know me, I don’t think. You might’ve seen me around these woods, but we never actually talked.” The explanation only made the crying worse.

“Am I supposed to love you too?” he choked out, and Zoya felt her stomach churn. Just what exactly was Jacob Amity doing to him in that cell? Was he really the lovestruck teenager she had pegged him as on that first day?

“No, that’s not– just let me finish, and if you don’t want to see me after that, you can go on your way.” Rurik didn’t object, which she took as a sign that he was willing to listen. “I saw that hunter around your casket several nights in a row, for weeks on end. I wanted to tell you, but… Vampires aren’t pack animals, are they?” She told him about the quest to find out the hunter’s name, how she realised Rurik had vanished shortly after along with his casket, and how she went against her better judgement to try and save him.

Rurik seemed at least half-convinced, and he slowly recounted his own experience, and the things the hunter had told him while he was trapped with him. He looked haunted. “I thought being turned into a bloodsucking monster was the worst thing that could’ve happened to me. I… I’m not sure anymore.”

Zoya gave him a sympathetic look. “We could look out for each other,” she suggested softly, “like in the old days. When we were still human, looking out for our friends during the winter, sharing our food so everyone had enough.”

He didn’t respond for a few seconds, staring at her casket next to his. He wiped the tears off his eyes and cheeks, trying to compose himself after his initial freak-out. “Wouldn’t a pair of vampires draw too much attention?” he asked quietly.

“Not much more than a single one. There are only so many deaths you can sell as an accident.”

Rurik nodded, picking at the leather on his wrist absentmindedly. “We could look out for each other,” he repeated. “Like friends.”

Zoya tilted her head to the side, smiling at him sweetly. What more could she have asked for? A vampire so traumatised that he was acting all dependent on her, stuck in silver cuffs he needed her help to get out of? Unable to turn? Really, she should’ve thanked the hunter for this opportunity. She could’ve never made it this seamless if everything had gone according to the original plan, and she had struck up conversation that night when the sight of a hunter rolling around in Rurik’s burial ground stopped her.

~

@ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump

[befuddled-calico-whump]

i definitely don't have timestamps in blue eye samurai memorized so I can go back and rewatch the torture/rescue scenes ahahaha that's crazy

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 13 - Multiple whumpees, (familial curse)

This was originally going to be one part but I just had to split it because it didn’t work out 😔 but my original plan was to whump all nine Links, and all nine links WILL be gotten. Eventually.

Warnings: aftereffects of drugging, body horror, brief injury and violence.

Ao3 link

Next part (day 28)

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“Twilight? Hey, Twilight wake up.”

Twilight groaned, and felt a hand shaking his shoulder, not too frantically, but forcefully enough that he quickly cracked his eyes open. Time looked down at him, concerned, but overall his expression was that of mild annoyance. Twilight was pretty sure it wasn’t directed at him, but he carefully sat up anyway, rubbing his pounding head.

“Oh good, Rancher’s up,” Sky’s voice said, and Twilight looked around to see all nine of them groggily waking up, rubbing heads and looking confused.

“Uh... what happened?” Wind slurred, trying to sit up and immediately falling back over. Warriors caught him, looking much more aware than the sailor, and frowned.

“That’s what I’m trying to remember. Last I recall, we were... eating dinner?”

“And now we’re in a tiny room with no way out and possibly limited air,” Hyrule said cheerily, then winced as he rubbed his head. “Were we... drugged?”

“It feels like it,” Twilight finally spoke, slowly stretching his limbs. He felt a little floaty, his head pounding, and the singular torch giving them light only made it worse. A quick glance around revealed that Four was the only one of them who hadn’t woken up yet, but he was twitching a little like he was about to.

Twilight hummed in mild confusion, trying to get his brain to sort out events from earlier. He did remember eating dinner, but had it been at an inn? It hadn’t been Wild’s cooking, he remembered that, but who’s had it been? Where were they?

Ugh. He hated waking up imprisoned and confused.

“Hey, wait I remember!” Wind said suddenly, eyes going wide. “We were at that festival in town!”

“Oh yeah...” Wild said like he was remembering it. “Oh yeah! Right! That was good food... though that lady serving it was weird.”

“Yeah, she came up to me and was talking to me later,” Sky spoke up as he scratched his head. “It seemed like she recognized that we were heroes. She seemed a little strange too, but... I thought maybe she’d just had too much wine,” he admitted sheepishly.

“I feel like I did,” Warriors muttered, and Twilight snorted. Honestly he agreed.

Twilight felt for his pouch, wanting to pull out his lantern and look around their prison a bit more, then froze, patting his sides and looking down at himself.

“Ah... Did anyone else have all of their gear stolen?” he asked.

A quick check revealed that yes, everyone’s items had been taken, both weapons and bags. Even Legend’s rings had been stripped, and the only thing any of them had were the clothes on their backs.

“Well, I’ve dealt with worse, but this sucks,” Legend said flatly, and everyone agreed.

Four groaned then, and everyone’s attention was pulled to making sure he was okay (which he was, just extra woozy like Wind) and helping him sit up. Four blinked at them all, taking in the tiny stone room, single torch, and the fact that all of them were crammed around him, and sighed.

“So going to that festival in town was a bad idea I see.”

“Indeed,” Time agreed.

Something rumbled in the wall then, shaking stone and making them all jump. They turned towards it, shifting into defensive positions, but then the wall... squealed.

“The chosen of Farore awaken!” a voice said excitedly, coming from no discernible direction. It echoing around the room like it was speaking to them from the opposite end of a long hallway. “At last!”

“Oh boy,” Legend muttered under his breath as the voice squealed again. “This isn’t going to end well.”

“I don’t recognize that voice,” Warriors murmured in reply. “Anyone?”

They all shook their heads.

“Let us out, jerk!” Wind hollered, and the voice giggled.

“Not yet!” she singsonged, and someone else cleared their throat.

“We must verify your identity before we partake of your courage,” a different voice spoke up, harsh and croaking. “You all bear the honorable likeness, but we must be sure.”

“Oh I really don’t like the sound of that,” Legend hissed, and Twilight agreed, subtly shifting his position to be further in front. Several of them did the same, faces hard as stone.

“What do you want with us?” Time demanded, and a few beats of silence passed.

“A test is in order,” the harsher voice spoke again, seeming to ignore Time’s words. “To prove you are indeed Farore’s providence. Our venerated goddess would not send us such scrawny men with the Signs without reason.”

“Scrawny?” Warriors muttered. Twilight wasn’t the only one who snickered at the offended look on his face.

“Prove to us you can survive our glorious goddess’s trial grounds,” the harsh voice continued. “If you die, it is of no consequence to us. But if you survive...”

“You get to live with us in the temple as Farore’s consorts forever!” the cheerful voice finished.

Silence fell over the Links, and Twilight felt suddenly nauseous.

“Oh great. A cult,” Wild said flatly. “I love those.”

Then the floor dropped out.

All of them screamed, and Twilight grabbed at the person closest to him, who happened to be Four. The smithy clutched back at him as they fell through the darkness, and Twilight heard several oofs as their backs hit something.

Suddenly they were shooting down some kind of slide, twisting and turning sharply, and Twilight knocked into several of the others as they fell. Four’s hand slipped out of his, but Twilight didn’t have a chance to grab it again before the chute abruptly opened up.

Twilight yelled again as he fell through the air, nothing but darkness surrounding him. He heard other shouts of alarm, but they sounded strangely far away as he flailed his arms, trying to turn around and slow his descent.

Before he could form any sort of plan though, he slammed into something solid and cold, bitingly cold.

It sank into his skin and leeched around his heart, and Twilight gasped without thinking, inhaling some of the intense cold. It felt like it went straight from his mouth to his lungs, freezing the entire way. A familiar sensation wracked through him along with it, twisting through his skin and bones, and Twilight braced himself as his body began to morph into a wolf without his permission.

How are they doing this? How is this possible?! he wanted to yell, but the unusually sharp pain from transforming stole his breath away.

It swept into his veins like ice, every breath turning his insides into a cold so deep and painful he thought he might pass out from it. He clung to consciousness though, a scream from his lips morphing to a howl halfway, the transformation ripping through him like a bolt made of icy lightning.

Then it was over.

Twilight went limp, panting as he caught his breath from the shockingly cold transformation.

He’d never been pushed into his wolf form like that before, and it took him several minutes to carefully sit up for the second time today. Paws, legs, tail, snout... aside from the especially painful transformation itself, he felt mostly fine. Nothing seemed wrong, at least.

He looked around where he’d ended up, and his ears went back at the darkness around him. The only color in his vision was a faint sheen of green in places on the ground, like the folds on a piece of deep mossy velvet. A couple small, glowing pebbles were the only other thing he could see. The air was still bitingly cold, even despite his thick fur, and Twilight shivered.

He needed to find the others, now.

Standing up and giving himself a cautious shake, Twilight began to walk carefully through through what smelled like a cave, his stomach tight with worry.

Why had they been dropped here? What was the goal? Everything that those women had said was unpleasant, but something about the words they’d used made Twilight’s stomach churn.

What did “partake of their courage” mean, exactly?

A scream suddenly rang through the cave, sharp with pain, and Twilight’s ears shot up. He bolted the moment he pinpointed it, feet pounding on the stones under his paws. He nearly tripped on a large rock, but kept running, following the sounds with his ears.

Until he finally saw Time, lying beside a faintly glowing rock, writhing in place with an expression of pure agony.

“Time!” Twilight barked in a panic, and bolted to his side, sniffing at him and trying to figure out what was wrong.

Time let out another cry of agony, and curled in on himself, body shaking as he tried to hold himself together. Twilight leaned closer to study him, then froze as golden hair— fur began to spread across his skin, his body parts shifting.

Oh no.

Time reached out blindly, and Twilight sat beside him, letting him clutch at his fur. He couldn’t do anything but watch as Time’s body gradually shifted into the same form as his own, a snout and tail, powerful legs and upward pointing ears. It was horrifying to watch, and the sounds were even worse, cracking and splitting and shifting.

It went on for a good minute or two, and Twilight whined anxiously as Time cried out and moaned, body shuddering and trying to organize itself. Time finally let out one last whining cry of pain, then stilled, tongue lolling as he panted for breath.

And Twilight shook as he stared at him, bright gold and white fur shining a little in the crystal light.

Time had become a golden wolf.

The same that Twilight had sought out on his journey in order to learn hidden sword techniques.

“Old man,” Twilight woofed softly, trying not to shake as he lowered himself to his belly beside Time. “Are you okay?”

Time’s good eye fluttered, then slowly opened, looking up at Twilight.

“I’ve been... through many magical transformations, but that... was one of the worst,” Time weakly huffed. He attempted to get to his feet, and growled in frustration as his paws went the wrong ways. “Right. New body. New proportions.”

“Just take it slow,” Twilight urged, trying not to think about what Time now looked like, the future once more looming over his head. Nope. He had bigger problems right now. “Let your instincts carry you for a bit. It’s better if you don’t think too hard about how it works.”

It only took one more try for Time to sit up, and his legs didn’t tremble too much as he raised himself to a standing position. He tripped once or twice, but managed a careful walk around the cave, and shortly after that he was standing naturally, just like a wolf.

“Are you okay, pup?” Time asked, posture suggesting worry. He sniffed at Twilight a bit, and his ears shifted backwards. He could probably smell Twilight’s fear.

“I’m alright,” Twilight reassured with a swallow. “Just worried for the others. How did those people do this to us? It hardly felt like the magic I use to transform.”

“Probably a spell of some ilk,” Time rumbled. “One I do not like. But we should find the others before we—”

A shrill scream rang through the caves, and both Twilight and Time snapped their heads up, exchanging alarmed looks. They hurried towards it without another word, the pebbles on the ground just barely lighting their path, and Twilight frantically sniffed for any sign of the others.

None of their voices were that high pitched, but if the same thing Twilight and Time had been afflicted with was what had happened to everyone...

A bit more light came into view, and Twilight froze at the sight in front of him.

A moblin, one that looked something like Wild’s, was snarling angrily as it tried to reach a clawed hand into a crevasse in the rock. It scrabbled at the stone and howled when its hand wouldn’t fit. An angry squeaking sound came from the hole, and the moblin roared loudly, yanking its hand away as blood ran from its claws.

Someone was cornered in there.

Time snarled, leaping at the moblin with his teeth bared, and Twilight did the same, his fangs connecting with flesh.

It was incredibly fortunate it was only a red moblin, and against two wolves, even one inexperienced, it was no match. It soon fell to Twilight and Time’s teeth, and disappeared into smoke, a roar ringing out as it died.

Twilight whirled on the crack in the stone then, whining anxiously as he sniffed at it. He could smell blood.

“Hello?” he woofed, and the angry noises stopped.

“...Twilight?”

The voice was familiar, and when Twilight sniffed again, he caught a mix of familiar scents through the blood, ones that sent relief through him.

“Legend?” Time asked in confusion, and a familiar pink rabbit face appeared in the crack, long ears swiveling.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Legend sighed, and moved out of the hole a bit further. Twilight could see the fear in his body language. “...Is that Time back there? Wait, did he seriously get to be a wolf too?!”

“Yes,” Twilight said, then gave Legend a worried sniff. “Where are you hurt? I smell blood.”

Legend’s ears went back. “It’s not bad, just a scratch. That moblin got a swing at me while I was shifting. I was trying to help Sky.”

“He got transformed too? Is he okay?” Twilight asked frantically, and Legend made a movement Twilight assumed was a helpless shrug.

“He hasn’t woken up yet. He got a little banged up too, it didn’t look like he was bleeding too much, but... I don’t know. I think the shift was pretty hard on him.”

“It was plenty hard on me, and I’m used to it,” Twilight winced. “Can you pull him out of there?”

“I got him in there in the first place, I hope so,” Legend said, and turned back around and reentered the crevasse. Twilight sat down beside it, and Time padded over, giving the hole a curious look.

“You don’t seem so surprised at the fact that our veteran is a pink rabbit,” he noted, and Twilight chuffed out a laugh.

“Yeah, there’s a story behind that. Maybe Legend will explain it.”

The rabbit in question reappeared shortly, tugging something else by the scruff. He grunted as he pulled it up, and Twilight stuck his snout in to try and help, eyes widening at the creature Sky had become.

He looked something like a cat, but not exactly, soft and fuzzy, tan and light brown fur in an unusual pattern. Large ears poked up as Legend pulled him further out of the hole, and Twilight saw a faint mark on his back that looked like a bird.

He also had claw marks scored into his side, dripping blood through his fur.

“Oh Sky...” Twilight whined, giving him an anxious sniff. “Do you know what he is?”

“I assumed he was a cat of some sort, but beats me,” Legend shrugged. “Wait, if you guys are animals, does that mean—”

“Yeah we’re pretty sure everyone else is too,” Twilight sighed, and Legend put a paw on his chin, rapidly tapping his foot in thought.

“Hm. That could be problematic, to say the least.”

“Indeed,” Time added grimly. “We need to find the others and figure out how to get out of here.”

“I can probably scent them out, but how are we getting out of here?” Twilight asked. “I don’t see us getting out the way we came in.”

“We’ll find a way,” Legend said as he rubbed his ear. “After all, we’ve just got to beat this ‘trial’, right? I bet once we do that we can bust outta here.”

“Assuming we aren’t all still incapacitated,” Time murmured with a glance at Sky. “We should get moving.”

“I got him,” Twilight volunteered, and gently lifted Sky by the scruff. He barely weighed anything.

“Wait, I’ll carry him,” Time interrupted. “You’re our best fighter at the moment, it makes more sense for you to have the freedom to move about. Especially if you’re going to sniff out the others.”

Twilight nodded reluctantly, and set Sky on Time’s back, getting him settled. He licked away the worst of the blood, and was relieved to see the scratches weren’t actually too deep. Legend seemed to be correct with his assumption that the shift had just been hard on him.

“So is this a dark world of some kind?” Twilight wondered as he pulled back. “We were wondering if it was a spell of some sort, but is it possible that we fell into a different world?”

“I don’t know, but it certainly feels like one,” Legend said with a shiver. “That or some kind of dark magic that’s concentrated down here. Based on what those crazy people said I’d guess just dark magic, but either way, it’s bad.”

Twilight raised his head and sniffed, that eerie cold feeling still penetrating him straight to his spirit. He caught a whiff of something else in the air though, a familiar scent, and pricked his ears.

“I smell someone, they’re close,” he reported, and Legend twitched an ear.

“Well, lead the way, wolf boy.”

They set off, Twilight in the front, Time behind him with Sky, Legend hopping along between them. Twilight stayed tense, keeping both ears out for sign of any monsters or Links, but the cavern was eerily quiet.

Had the others already been transformed? If they were unconscious from the shift it would explain why it was so quiet, but... there were a lot of other reasons why that could be the case.

Bad ones.

Twilight looked up at where the ceiling should be, nothing but pitch-black darkness meeting him, and swallowed.

Were they okay?

He regretted thinking it when a cry rang through the cavern yet again, one thick with pain, and all three of them immediately stiffened.

“I think that’s the captain,” Legend said in a thin voice.

Time didn’t even speak, bolting off deeper into the cave.

Twilight’s heart pounded as Legend scrambled over to him, leaping onto his back, and they tore off behind Time into the darkness ahead. He could barely see where he was going, but he kept running, following Time’s scent.

They rounded a corner, and Twilight stopped dead, Time’s tail between his legs at the sight before them.

Warriors lay on the ground, still completely Hylian, and writhing around with pain constricting his face. Twilight hurried over, and Warriors’ back arched, sweat beading on his face as he let out another cry.

Twilight couldn’t hold back a whine, and Legend slid off his back, scampering over to the captain without hesitation. Warriors’ eyes were wide and glassy, and Legend put a small paw on his arm with a worried look.

“Captain, hey, I know your instinct is to fight it, but let it happen,” Legend said, voice steady. “It’ll be easier if you just let it do what it’s going to do.”

Warriors let out another short cry of pain, and Twilight sat beside him as he twitched on the ground. Time seemed frozen a few feet away, and Twilight put the soft from his mind, focusing on Warriors.

His face began to elongate, and Warriors thrashed, his eyes so wide that Twilight could see mostly white. His legs and arms grew longer, back straightening as his neck stretched out, and all any of them could do was watch it happen, and try and soothe Warriors while his body slowly twisted itself into a different form.

Warriors let out a guttural scream, but the transformation just kept plodding along, going so slowly Twilight was sure it was pure torture.

“Warriors, please, you’ve got to let it finish,” Legend said in a voice Twilight could tell he fought to keep steady. “Just let go. I promise it’ll be okay.”

Warriors breathed out sharply through his nose, eyes darting around without seeing anything. Time finally snapped out of his daze then, sitting down by his head, and Warriors blindly leaned against him, breath coming out in short gasps.

“It’s okay, Link,” Time reassured, even though Warriors wouldn’t be able to understand him. “Let it finish. You can do it.”

Warriors shuddered, and the transformation spread a little faster, his hair turning paler and spreading across his body, limbs stretching out more. Twilight watched, morbidly fascinated as his fingers fused and arms stretched, body growing, hair spreading downwards.

It went on longer than Time’s, much longer, but Warriors’ limbs eventually finished growing out, hoofs in place of hands, a horn twisting up, a silky tail and mane falling along the ground.

Finally it finished, and Twilight stared, fascinated.

Warriors lay unconscious on the ground, a unicorn of the palest yellow.

“...I gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting that,” Legend commented with an exhale, though his voice was a bit unsteady. He patted Warriors’ shoulder, and hunched down a little, face twisted with worry.

“What were you expecting?” Twilight asked curiously, and Legend shrugged.

“I don’t know. Probably another wolf. Not... a unicorn.”

“I think it makes sense,” Time said quietly, but didn’t elaborate.

Twilight sighed, feeling exhausted, and absently twitched an ear. “Well since none of us can carry him, I guess we’re stuck here until he wakes up.”

Time nodded, and Legend swiped a paw across his face. “Hopefully that won’t take too long,” Legend muttered worriedly, his nose twitching.

Twilight silently agreed, and sat down beside Time and Legend, keeping his ears pricked for any signs of the other Links while they waited for Warriors to wake back up.

Oh spirits, what a disaster.

[goodwhump-temp]

Dick Grayson Whump | Titans

1x01 Titans - Door to the face/knocked down 1x02 Hawk and Dove - Shoved, gut and face kicked 1x03 Origins - [Childhood; therapy] 1x05 Together - Punched, gutkicked, knocked against wall, elbowed, knocked out the window, swarmed, pistolwhipped x13, bloody nose 1x06 Jason Todd - Bloody nose, self-surgery 1x07 Asylum - Restrained in a padded room x2, heavily drugged x2, 'seizing', weak, knocked unconscious, hallucinating, thrown out window, hit with a baton x6, bleeding, unresponsive, tazed x2, punched/cut lip 1x11 Dick Grayson - Hostage

-----------------------------

2x01 Trigon - Hostage, [fake world; shot/killed], knocked down 2x05 Deathstroke - Punched x3, bodyslammed, hit with blade hilt, flashbanged 2x07 Bruce Wayne - Hallucinating the whole episode, guilt, talks to hallucination x5, emotional 2x08 Jericho - Punched x7, hit with baton x2, knocked down x2, stabbed x2, headbutted x3, kicked, weak, unconscious, guilt 2x09 Atonement - Punched, bloody nose, guilt 2x10 Fallen - Arrested 💀, pistolwhipped x2, bleeding 2x11 E.L._.O. - Isolated, hallucinating, fever, realized missing, beaten, [Fake world; stabbed x2, killed x2], shaking, choked x2, thrown, gutkicked, punched x3, kicked, elbowed, arm dislocated 2x13 Nightwing - Knocked down, kicked x4, tazed, guilt/grieving

-----------------------------

3x02 Red Hood - Caught in explosion, tinnitus 3x04 Blackfire - Kicked, shot (armor), shoulder shot (clean through), punched--x4, manhandled 3x06 Lady Vic - Bleeding, bandaged 3x07 51% - Thrown 3x08 Home - Hit by a car (13:50), passes out, hospital, hallucinating x4 3x10 Troubled Water - Hallucinating 3x11 Call is Coming From Inside the House - Punched, choked, shot x4 (armor), shot in the neck, bleeding out, kicked x1000 3x12 Prodigal - Actually dead, [crying], coughing, passes out

-----------------------------

4x01 Lex Luthor - Kicked 4x02 Mother Mayhem - Hit with staff, flipped, electrocuted 4x03 Jinx - Punched x2, kicked 4x07 Caul's Folly - Drugged (the cafe), tazed, kicked x2, choked & tazed combo, weak, passes out 4x08 Dick & Carol & Ted & Kory - Drugged, trauma flashbacks, headache (x5), hit by baton x8, manhandled, choked, brief amnesia 4x10 Game Over - Thrown, choked 4x12 Titans Forever - Knocked down x2, punched x2, hit with baton x3, bleeding, arm twisted, choked, heartbroken

[whumpyourdamnpears]

Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter Ten

Content Warning: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, POC whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump (Christianity), captivity whump, non-con drugging, brief suicidal ideation

Thank you to Marz for beta reading this chapter

Word Count: 1833 Previous Next

“I come bearing gifts,” the man said the next time he entered the room. Dani watched, bleary-eyed, as the man approached her, holding a single plastic water bottle, its contents sloshing as he moved.

“I thought you said gifts,” she mumbled as he crouched down in front of her, stretching out her arm to take the bottle from him.

“Be grateful you get even this much.” He reminded her, passing the bottle off to her. Dani took the bottle, moving it from side to side the second it entered her hand. The way the water moved about the bottle quickly enraptured her rapidly drying out brain.

“You gonna drink it or what?” The man asked.

Dani didn’t hesitate before unscrewing the top of the water bottle and pouring its contents down her throat. She left a little bit of it to swish around in her dry mouth, begging for it to sink into her gums and tongue for some much-needed moisture.

The man chuckled and nodded as Dani downed nearly the entire bottle. “I’d apologize for not getting you water sooner, but we both know water opens up the flood gates for further needs, and besides, watching you when you finally get it is a whole lot more fun this way.”

“Oh, I bet,” Dani snapped, rolling her eyes.

“I have to say, though, the crankiness is not my favorite.” He told her in a warning tone of voice. Dani decided not to press, instead looking down at the bottle in her hand.

The man looked at her, expecting. “Don’t you have anything else to say to me?”

Motherfuck— “Thank you.” Dani muttered, refusing to make eye contact.

The man smiled, his lips curling in on themselves. “You’re most certainly welcome, darlin’.”

She hated him. Hated him.

“Did you know it’s been almost a week since you’ve been here?” The man asked her. Dani shook her head. Admittedly, she’d lost count of the days when the hunger began to hit. “Today’s your seventh day.”

Seven days. How had it only been seven days?

Seven days without food, or consistent access to water. Seven days of being forced to interact with this fucking freak. Dani couldn’t help the way her eyes bugged when she inhaled. Seven days into however much longer there was of this. Should she start counting down the days until he eventually got sick of her and ended things? Was he beginning to get sick of her already? He had given her water this time, unprompted. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?

Did she even want it to last much longer than this?

The man began pacing around the room, inspecting the books and knick knacks that rested on the higher shelves. Dani watched him, confused. “What are you doing?” She asked as she watched him lift up a paperweight from one of the shelves above her.

“Just waiting,” he hummed. “I need to take care of a few more things before we leave, but have to wait to get some of them done.”

Dani perked up, nearly hitting her head on the shelf above her. “Leaving? We’re leaving? Leaving for where?”

“No, my daughter and I are leaving.” The man said. “You, darlin’, are staying here. I can’t trust you not to make a mess of things while we’re out and about yet.”

Dani deflated. “Oh.”

The man laughed. “Did you seriously think I’d bring you anywhere in this state? With your behavior? Come on, now. You should know better than that.”

Dani squirmed in her seat. “Where are you going?” She asked.

“That,” the man fiddled with the cuffs of his flannel. “Is for me to know.” He glanced down at her, smirking. “You’ll get to know soon enough.”

Huffing, Dani began to crinkle the water bottle in her hand, eliciting a pained look from her captor. “I’d argue I’ve been very well-behaved.”

“Oh, would you? I think the bruise on my shin would beg to differ.”

Dani smiled to herself. “It bruised?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be too proud of yourself. May I remind you of what that little choice got you?” He gestured over to the unused bedpan.

For a moment, the world began to blur. Dani quickly blinked the blurriness away. An unwanted side effect of the hunger she experienced, no doubt. Groaning, Dani rubbed her head. “And how long are you guys going to be gone for?” She asked.

“Until later tonight. I don’t trust you to be by yourself for that long.”

“Wow, thanks for that show of confidence.” Dani remarked sarcastically. Her head felt weird, fuzzy, even. Despite the length of time without food, she hadn’t felt anything like this since…

“Did you give me something?”

The man stopped, turning to finally face her. “Give you what?”

Dani didn’t respond, instead choosing to give him a knowing look.

The man crouched down and held out his hand. “If you don’t want the water, I can just take it back.”

Dani sheltered the bottle with her body. Despite its near emptiness, she did not want to part with it. It was, after all, her only source of water. “Never mind,” Dani mumbled, curled around the bottle.

The man hummed, nodding his head and standing up from his crouch. “Then don’t complain. What you get is what you get.”

And you don’t get upset. Suddenly, memories of her mother saying exactly that flooded to the forefront of Dani’s mind. It almost made Dani teary-eyed to think of her, of what she must be doing now that her daughter was gone, in some reclusive older man’s remote cabin in the woods.

Almost.

So, they continued on, the man with his pacing, Dani with nursing the water bottle and her headache, which was slowly worsening. Eventually, it got to the point where Dani started to find it hard to stay sitting up, so she pushed herself up against the bookshelf to keep herself upright.

The man watched as she did so. “How are you feeling?” The man asked, scrutinizing her.

“Fine,” Dani began to slur. Definitely not normal. She glared at the man as the world began to get blurry again.

He gave her a little smirk in response. “Did you really think I’d just leave you to your own devices while we were gone? You could get into some serious trouble with us not here to stop you.”

Dani could distantly feel her body begin to slide off the bookshelf as he went on, slinking down towards the floor.

“It’ll only last for a few hours. We should be home by the time it wears off. For now, though,” the man bent over and pet Dani’s head as she finally slid all the way down onto the floor. “You’ll just have to take a nice little nap until we return.”

“Fuck you,” Dani slurred as she fought to keep her eyelids from sinking shut.

“Goodnight,” the man drawled as he walked away from her and approached the doors to the study. When the door opened and the man slipped out was when Dani finally allowed her eyes to close.

———

The room is dark when Dani awakens. She stares at the ceiling as the room begins to come back into focus. Rolling onto her side slowly, Dani looked to the doors. The lights were off on the other side, too, and there was no movement. Groaning, Dani rubbed her head as she came to.

She was alone. Really, truly alone, for the first time in days. Sitting up, her head spun, but she stayed up, and that’s what matters. Looking around, Dani verified she was alone before turning to the bookcase behind her. He deserves this, Dani thought to herself as she stretched to pull a book off of the shelf. She turned to a random page before gripping the edge of said page and tearing. The page ripped from the spine, fluttering down from the book to the floor. It felt good. Dani ripped another one out. And another. She kept ripping until a small, folded piece of paper fluttered to the floor.

Dani stared at the folded up piece of paper, perplexed. Her mind was still muddy from whatever was in her water, but she still knew that the folded piece of paper tucked into the book was not part of the book’s binding itself. It could be nothing, Dani thought to herself. It could just be annotations, or an old flyer used as a bookmark. It could be nothing. Still, her hand reached out for the paper, anyways, and reverently unfolded it to find a few nicely written words written out in pencil on the page.

Dear Whoever Comes Next, the paper read. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry?

The writing continued. That’s all I really have to say to you. I’m sorry he took you. I’m sorry he made you his. And I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to stop it.

The letter went unsigned. Dani stared down at the paper, the words staring right back up at her. Before she could even think about what she had just read, a rumbling sounded from outside the cabin, getting louder and louder before stopping abruptly, headlights shining through the windows and the glass study doors. They were home, and there Dani sat with evidence of snooping around in her lap. She quickly scrambled to grab all of the ripped up pages and shove them back into the book, letter included, and then slammed the book shut, shoving the book back onto the bookshelf before the front door to the cabin swung open. Dani laid back down before the two of her captors could see she was awake, turning her back to the doors so they couldn’t see her face.

They came in quietly, shutting the door behind them. One set of footsteps walked right past the study, followed by a small thud that Dani had come to know as the ladder to the daughter’s room coming down from the ceiling and hitting the floor. The other set of footsteps instead walked right to the study doors, opening them and walking inside.

Dani slammed her eyes shut, hoping that pretending to be asleep would save her the grief of having to talk to the man about his night. The footsteps approached, stopping right behind her. She unintentionally tensed, and hoped that the man wouldn’t be able to tell. Dani could feel as the man moved closer to her, crouching down beside her to inspect her face. She stayed as still as a statue for all of it. All of it, except for when the man moved a strand of hair hanging in Dani’s face to behind her ear. Her face scrunched as she resisted the urge to bite the man’s hand.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” The man said quietly. “See you in the morning.”

As soon as it was safe to, once the man was long out of the room, Dani finally allowed herself to shudder.

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @deluxewhump, @another-whump-sideblog, @pigeonwhumps, @lektricwhump, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees, @sowhumpshaped, @dietofwormsofficial, @starsick1979

[secretwhumplair]

Home, together

845 words | No Warrior (sequel to Reunion)

Content | Fluff. Very fluff. Brief mention of past trauma.

Notes | Yves and Runar go home! together!

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@whumpzone @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies @yet-another-heathen

@rosesareviolentlyread @cupcakes-and-pain @hollowtreesinhollowwoods @pleasancies @much-ado-about-whumping

@nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em @itsleighlove @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies

@deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass

@whumpsday @silent-orchid-lady @everynameistakencarrots @scoundrelwithboba

As they walked through the crisp night air — the same autumn air that had made Yves feel like he never would be warm again, once upon a time — Yves couldn’t help reminiscing, even as his heart thumped in his chest when he looked at Runar, not with fear.

A year ago, he had been terrified to be alone with the warrior. He had expected the worst, and met with nothing but kindness. He had been exhausted from an evening of unknowns… and now? Now he felt downright invigorated by the celebrations.

Maybe not just by the celebrations. His heart beat and beat against his chest.

They reached the hut, and Yves went ahead to start the fire, to welcome Runar back in his own home. It must feel a little strange, after all these months. It felt strange to Yves, almost like… like he was welcoming Runar in his home.

»We haven’t talked… about your feelings.« They had found plenty to talk about between Runar’s adventures and Yves little tales of summer, but… he had to ask. He stayed before the fireplace, watching the flames grow. It felt easier not to look at Runar.

He felt Runar pause where he had been getting ready for bed, but he remained silent.

»Because — because I’ve had. A lot of time to think about things.« To miss you. He almost tried to say the words out loud, but he didn’t manage even a whisper.

He’d never done this before. Fooled around, sure, but this — and after everything that had happened—

He pulled himself together and turned around. He moved closer to Runar.

Runar’s eyes were wide, fixed on him. »I don’t want you to feel like you’re — obliged in any way.«

He’d said that before, when Yves had first offered himself to him. But it was easy to shake his head. »No,« he whispered. »It’s not—

»I’d just like to kiss you. I think.« He stared up into Runar’s eyes. Had they always been this blue? His gaze dropped down to his lips. If he went on tiptoes…

A moment later, their lips connected.

It was only a heartbeat before they came apart like startled animals. Yves thought it was mostly Runar’s doing, though he couldn’t be sure, not with the way his thoughts sparked apart.

»I haven’t kissed anyone in a while,« he breathed. His hands, he found, were resting against Runar’s chest, and he tentatively slipped them around his body to hold him close.

»Yves,« Runar simply whispered back, and then they were kissing again, longer, forever.

Runar’s mouth was warm on his, and Yves thought they might just stay in this moment, thought his heart might leap out of his chest, thought this might be happiness.

Eventually, they softly broke apart again. Runar bowed down enough to rest his forehead against Yves’.

For several long moments, they simply stood and breathed, holding one another. Yves didn’t know when Runar had put his arms around him, but it didn’t matter, what mattered was that they were. He didn’t know what to say. He felt he might cry, filled to the brim with the emotions bursting in his chest every moment they continued to touch, but he didn’t want Runar to worry.

Eventually, it was Runar who raised his head, just a little.

»We should… I think we should take it slow.«

»For my sake.« Yves forgot to make it a question. »For your sake — for our sake, really. I don’t want to… go wrong.«

Yves nodded. His heart fluttered in his chest. He didn’t know what he wanted next — more, all, but he didn’t know what he was ready for, and that stung, even through it all.

He knew he didn’t want Runar’s hands off him.

He wanted to kiss him again, so he did.

It was a while, even after how long the evening had been, before they could bring themself to move, to make their way to bed.

He had slept alone for long enough to almost get used to it, but he had missed Runar — especially when he was having his nightmares, but sometimes, when he was feeling bold, in much sweeter imaginations.

Take it slow. Probably Runar was right to be cautious.

»We can… um. We can cuddle, though. Right?«

»Sure, if you want to!« Runar’s enthusiasm made him chuckle, to his own surprise.

He had never moved in to Runar’s arms when he wasn’t scared or otherwise in dire need of comfort. Now he wondered why. He had always been cozy here, and he was now, curling into Runar’s chest. Runar held him close, and Yves, too, wrapped one of his arms around him.

»Are you sure you want this?« Runar asked softly.

»Yes.« Yves mumbled the word into his skin. He hadn’t been so sure even at the start of the evening, but now, there were few things he had ever been more certain of.

»If ever you change your mind, you can-«

»I’m sure.«

Runar kissed the top of his head, and so they slept, entangled in one another.

Little question because I didn't at first think about it much (but Runar will hehe) and I'm curious what you think

[fuckyeaharthuriana]

What will you find in: The Last Knight of Camelot: The Chronicles of Sir Kay (Cherith Baldry)

Going back to the old series of "arthurian short stories" I used to do, where I write a brief summary about the short stories you can find in an arthurian collection.

"The Last Knight of Camelot" (goodreads) is a collection of 15 stories, the majority previously published in different magazines and collections and 5 completely new stories. All stories are very Malory-like and all revolving around Sir Kay (and they are high in whump). Gawain, Gareth, Arthur and Lancelot are the main other recurring characters.

The king who is to come (from "Legends of the Pendragon")

The story is set before Arthur finds out he is the son of Uther. It is kind of bittersweet, less adventurous than the others and it follows a hunt where Arthur and Kay have time for some reflection.

The Pendragon Banner (new story)

A fascinating magical story of the dragon in Arthur's banner at the battle of Badon.

Seeds of Destruction (new story)

Kay narrates to Gareth and Gawain of the night Morgause visited Arthur to seduce him. Probably my favorite among the whole book, as it also explores Kay's feelings towards an Arthur who is adapting to his role as king.

The Knight of the Kitchen (new story)

More on the adventure side, Kay and Gareth face some mercenaries and need to save Arthur and the castle.

Sir Kay's Ring (from "Sierra Heaven" magazine)

A fight between Kay and Arthur lead to disastrous game of chess.

Hunt of the Hart Royal (from "The Chronicles of the Holy Grail")

Kay wins the royal prize of a magical hunt and his reward is giving a kiss to the most beautiful lady, which usually ends in discord and anger among the knights.

The Avowing of Sir Kay (from "Paradox" magazine)

Driven by a wounded pride, Kay promises to Lancelot and the rest of the knights that he won't come back until he accomplishes a deed bigger than all their knightly deeds.

Sir Kay's Quest (from "Round Table Publications")

A mysterious woman brings to camelot a cloak that is able to reveal the true nature of whoever wears it, her intent is clearly to let Guinevere and Lancelot accept the challenge.

A Gift for King Arthur (from "Bardic Runes")

Kay is challenge to bring to Arthur a gift that could win the king's favor.

King Arthur's Ransom (from "Scheherazade")

Arthur is in trouble and the only way to free him is through trickery and dishonor. Of course, Kay takes this quest for himself.

The Flower of Souvenance (new story)

A maiden requests for a knight to save her lady, offering a flower that would make them knight invincible.

The Trial of Sir Kay (from "The Chronicles of the Round Table")

Kay is tricked into accepting a trap masked as a quest.

Sir Kay's grail (new story)

A bittersweet story that foreshadow the fall of Camelot. Arthur, Kay and Gawain are searching for a magic quest, in a world that increasingly seems to have forgotten magic.

A very short story about the changing court of Camelot.

In the Forest Perilous (from "The Doom of Camelot")

The Last Knight of Camelot (from "The Sharkti Vanguard")

A heartbreaking tale of Kay as one of the last survivors of Camlann. Probably my second favourite in the whole collection.

[love-me-a-lotta-whump]

꽃파당: 조선혼담공작소 - Flower Crew: Joseon Marriage Agency - Whumplist - 🇰🇷

Whumpees: 고영수 (Go Young Soo) played by 박지훈 (Park Jihoon) // 마훈 (Ma Hoon) played my 김민재 (Kim Min Jae) // 도준 (Do Joon) played by 변우석 (Byeon Woo Seok)

Synopsis: A common blacksmith's son is kidnapped and selected to become the King of Joseon, but is unable to wed his childhood sweetheart, Gae-ttong, for her lowly status. He turns to Joseon's best matchmakers in request to make her into an eligible lady. (Google)

Genre/Tags: Period, Romance, Found Family, Royalty, Emeto, Gagged, Captive, Torture, Restrained, Trauma, Wound Reveal, Semi Comedy

Watch On: Netflix, Viki (Original), DramaCool, KissAsian

Note: Park Jihoon’s character is not in any way the main focus of this drama however he was the most whumped and I’m a ride or die Park Jihoon girlie so he is listed first 😘

TW: Emeto

⚠️WARNING: THERE ARE SPOILERS BELOW⚠️

고영수 (Go Young Soo)

1.01-1.06: none

1.07 : upset

1.08-1.10 : none

1.11 : upset (semi comical)

1.12 : kicked repeatedly, beaten, harassed, manhandled, traumatic memories triggered, roughly scratching on his arm, (flashbacks: harassed, scared, bloody lip), saved, emotional, concern for him, semi wound reveal ::: manhandled, struggling, gagged ::: thrown to the ground, intimidated, threatened, scared, near tears, roughly scratching on his arm

1.13 : anxious, (flashbacks: dirty, anxious, harassed, called an animal, hit repeatedly, had things thrown at him, bloody lip, cut cheek, anxious, wound reveal, scratching at his wound on his arm), crying ::: intimidated, threatened, anxious, fell to his knees, shaky breathing, (trauma response: rubbing perfume-like product all over his body) ::: intimidated, threatened, shaking, (traumatic flashbacks: manhandled, accidentally killed someone, covered in blood), crying, shaking

1.14 : shaking, intimidated ::: anxious, friend calmed him down (really sweet moment) ::: (flashbacks: intimidated, threatened) ::: anxious, shaking, traumatic memories triggered, (traumatic flashbacks [small cuts but all one scene]: slapped multiple times, restrained (rope), bloody, shaking, forced to aid in an execution, splattered with blood, scratching his arm, kicked repeatedly, slapped multiple times, verbally abused, curled in on himself, failed to escape, hung (rope) by his wrists, chin grabbed, struggling to breathe, blood coming from his mouth, crying, begging, threatened, weak, hand tied to a machete, out of it, crying, scared, shaky breathing, grabbed, blood all over his face), having visual and tactile hallucinations, anxious, emotional, crying, anxious, rubbing himself with the perfume product, flinching away from someone

1.15 : crying ::: manhandled, shaking, (traumatic flashbacks [breaks but the same scene] hunted, hiding, scared, hiding, hungry, desperate, scared, flinching away from someone x2), shaking ::: out of it, near tears, crying

1.16 : (flashbacks: anxious, flinching at being touched, looked after), surrounded, (traumatic flashbacks: hand tied to a machete, out of it, crying, scared), fell to his knees, crying ::: captive, told nobody would ever find him, called an animal, shaking, crying, shaky breathing ::: concern for him ::: taken, manhandled, concern for him ::: forced to kneel, nearly killed, surrounded, saved

마훈 (Ma Hoon)

1.01 : hit on the head (comedic)

1.02 : hit on the head (semi-comedic)

1.03 : none

1.04 : (nightmare: grieving his older brother)

1.05 : none

1.06 : fought (brief), pushed against a wall with a knife to his throat (he doesn’t rlly care), saved

1.07 : none

1.08 : concerned for someone, fought ::: angry

1.09 : none

1.10-1.11 : in shock

1.12-1.13 : none

1.14 : sobbing

1.15 : crying, concern for him ::: in shock

1.16 : fought, grieving ::: grieving, comforted

도준 (Do Joon)

1.01-1.07 : none

1.08 : emotional, (flashbacks: manhandled, crying) ::: emotional, traumatic flashbacks, crying

1.09 : emotional

1.10 : fought, arm slashed, hunted, arm treated, emotional

1.11-1.12 : none

1.13 : drunk, concern for him, gagging

1.14 : none

1.15 : crying

1.16 : none

———+———

MORE WHUMP LISTS >>> {x}

[avvail-whumps]

Royal Bought: Complete Masterlist

General/brief content and warnings:

🏹 Luke’s Arc: vampire whump, non-human whumper, defiant whumpee, human auctions/trafficking, pet whump, hypnosis.

🍂 Ten’s Arc: none, apart from (temporary) character death, hypnosis and vampiric turning at the beginning.

💌 Ileana’s Girls: vampire whump, lady whumper, non-human whumper, multiple lady whumpees, hypnosis, conditioning, polygamy.

Information: the numbers beside each chapter indicate the writing order they’re written in. All stories are listed in chronological order. Although the stories can overlap and some are repeated, the emoji’s indicate who the chapters belong to mainly. For example, 🏹’s appear within Ten’s first few chapters of his arc because he makes an appearance, and it’s beneficial in understanding the origins of his story. However, they are mainly Luke’s chapters and are from his point of view.

🏹 Luke’s Arc

Growing up in a distant camp away from vampire civilisation, Luke has lived a life of constant fear and the unknown. When a vampire is thrown into his path under alarming circumstances after threatening somebody he cares deeply about, Luke is carted away to the kingdom and prepared to be bought and sold at one of their famous auctions; by none other than a Royal.

Note: Don’t like lady whump? Chapters 6-11 contain a (temporary) lady whumper. If you’d like to skip them, here’s a masterpost briefly summarising these chapters.

Hunting Deer (#1)

Upon Gates (#2)

Child’s Play (#3)

Underground Cattle (#4)

Sampling (#5)

Pretty Girls (#6)

Thorns and Roses (#7)

🍂 Ten’s Arc

When the vampire Justinian finds him in the Collared Forest, Ten was oblivious to the fate that would be in store for him. When he’s tricked into drinking vampire blood and subsequently murdered, Ten finds himself waking up as a bloodsucking creature of the night. Alone in an unfamiliar world, Ten adjusts to being an immortal child and the new life ahead of him.

🏹 Hunting Deer (#1)

Enter Justinian (Bonus)

🏹 Upon Gates (#2)

🏹 Child’s Play (#3)

💌 Ileana’s Girls

The story of three strangers, who are forced into unforseen circumstances when they’re abducted and planned to be sold off to any vampire that will pay for them. But their fates become irrevocably intertwined when they catch the eye of Ileana, a beautiful vampire attracted to pretty humans. And pretty things deserve to be spoiled, don’t they?

coming :)

Asks and Answers

Questions:

Ten’s Arc and Minor Whump (Short answer: there is none)

Justinian’s Significance

Plush Bunny

Everything Tag List: @whumpatize-me-captain @whump-me-all-night-long @softvampirewhump @d-cs @suspicious-whumping-egg @sapphirechao @sparrowsage @excessive-vampires @thecyrulik

Ten’s Arc Tag list: @obsessednerd505

Note: if you ask to be added to the tag list, I will automatically add you to the ‘Everything Tag List’. If you want to opt out of certain stories, e.g you don’t enjoy lady whump and don’t want to be tagged in Ileana’s Girls, then please let me know so I can tag you accordingly.

[teeth-n-ambitions]

Yours

This is something old I wrote a few years ago, maybe 2020? I've had bad writing block for a bit so I thought digging this back up might help. I was thinking about rewriting this but I think the original is still good as it is.

TW: lady whump, blood, brief nudity, possessive whumper, manipulation

Everything ached, Lila knew that much. Even her flickering eyelids were heavy. Light burning her eyes, she threw an arm over her face on reflex, sending a fresh wave of pain down to her shoulder. She groaned.

“Oh goodness, you’re alive.” Echoing footsteps accompanied the approaching voice. “I was debating whether to bury you or not.”

Lila rolled her arm to her forehead in lieu of sitting up. Black velvet cascaded down the stranger’s tall frame, swooping sleeves hanging just beneath her shoulders, with a dip in the chest and the skirt parting down the middle, exposing a slice of red matching the trim around the sleeves and neckline. The hem just missed the floor it floated over. An oblong pendant rested on her pale, near sickly, chest, red and glistening in the light. Unnaturally silky black hair ran down her back. Some of it landed on her shoulder when she dropped to crouch beside Lila.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“I, uh—” Lila cleared her raw throat. “I’ve been better. What happened?”

“The wolves had gotten hold of you. I was on a walk and found them tearing your bag apart. You were like this when I got there. It seems they’d moved on from you already. Your pulse was quite soft.”

“Oh, well, thank you for saving me, miss.”

“Cassara. And you’re welcome. What are you doing this deep in the wood, little one?”

A thick fog swirled around within Lila’s skull. Hopefully she hadn’t injured her brain too.

“I can’t remember,” she said. Cassara hummed to herself.

“Figures.” Standing again, she brushed her hair behind her back once more. “We’ll have to get you cleaned up before doing anything about those wounds. Try not to move.”

“Wha—Hey!” Hooking her arms under Lila’s back and knees, Cassara effortlessly lifted her from the couch. The movement ignited a new burst of pain in her right ankle. She hissed.

“I know, I know,” Cassara soothed. “I’ll get you fixed up, I promise.”

“Fucking put me down!” Lila failed to twist out of the woman’s steadfast grip. “What are you doing?”

“I told you.” They entered a hallway behind a set of double doors. “All these gashes need to be cleansed before I can go about treating them.” Mounted on the walls, the candles’ light hit Cassara’s eyes as they passed by. Perhaps it was clouds in her mind, but for a moment Lila thought she caught a hint of violet in her irises. She abandoned her attempt to squirm away, a knot tying itself in her stomach.

At the creak of a new door, a welcoming humidity lapped up to Lila’s face, a wave against the shore. It wasn’t until it enveloped her that she realized how cold she had been.

“I requested a bath be drawn as soon as you began to stir,” Cassara said, gently depositing Lila onto a stool.

Fewer candles meant the light in the bathroom wasn’t as harsh as the previous room had been, and so Lila took the opportunity to finally see what the damage looked like. Her clothing was in tatters, with patches of skin peering through the torn material. Her trousers had gotten the worst of it, with half a leg missing entirely, though a few holes and dark stains littered her sleeves.

“Shit,” she muttered. Cassara clicked her tongue.

“Unfortunately that whole ensemble is done for, as is the case with the spare in your bag; the top alone had been completely torn in half.”

“Do you have my bag?”

“Sorry, no.” Cassara pushed her sleeves to her elbows and bent to Lila’s height. “It was beyond repair as well. Whatever you had in there must have been what the damn creatures went after you for. Lift your arm for me?”

Lila spasmed the moment Cassara tugged at her clothing, shoving the woman and kicking her legs out until she’d landed on her behind, skin hot, chest heaving in tune to her rapidly spiking heartbeat, eyes blown wide.

“What was that?” Cassara’s lips curled just a bit, her hands going to her knees.     

“Now you can’t wash with those rags on, can you? Hm?” The shameless amusement in her voice made Lila’s ears burn.

“I can do it myself!” She barked back. “I’m not an infant!”

“Then perhaps you should stop acting like one, darling.”

Lila’s nostrils flared, teeth sinking into her tongue. Were her throat not painfully dry already, she’d scream, but just swallowing made her wince. She opted to jerk her gaze in another direction instead.

With a sigh, Cassara returned to Lila’s side, again crouching to her level. Though cool, her skin was smooth against Lila’s, setting off an involuntary shiver as she took her chin between her fingers, turning her head to force eye contact. Her voice remained steady.

“Tell me your name, sweetheart.” It was too soft for the command it was. Lila’s muscles loosened just a little, scrunched features smoothing on her dirty face. It felt as if her heart sighed.

“Lila,” she answered in just as light a voice. The fog in her head felt more like cotton now. Cassara dragged her thumb across Lila’s chin, nail ghosting her bottom lip. Another shiver.

“If you want everything to stop hurting so much you have to let me help you. That’s all I’m trying to do. This would all be so much easier if you’d just cooperate. Can you do that for me, Lila?”

“Yes.”

Cassara’s touches went without protest this time, save for a whine when peeling off a part of her top glued to her stomach with blood. She felt even filthier now that she could actually see the wounds themselves. A mixture of dirt and long-dried blood crusted over dozens of tears and slashes in Lila’s flesh, as well as some obvious bite marks around her ankles and calves. Her right ankle in particular swelled angrily. Thankfully her arms bore shallow cuts instead, with but a few random ones scattered around her torso. Reminded of Cassara’s presence by another click of the tongue, Lila crossed an arm over her chest, attempted to pull in her knees. Her face was only a few shades lighter than Cassara’s pendant.

“Now, now, there’s no need for any of that,” Cassara murmured. “You don’t have to hide from me.”

Lila yelped upon being scooped up again, growing redder still as they approached the bath. But the warmth rising from the water lulled her back into complacency. God, it was going to feel so good.

Her trance broke as soon the first cut met the water.

“Fuck, fuck, it hurts! Fucking stop it!” Her arms locked around Cassara’s neck, water sloshing onto the floor as she scrambled to avoid coming into contact with it again. Her cries were ignored in favor of lowering her further into the tub. Cassara hummed, plucked Lila’s arms from her neck. She plunged her arm into the water and held Lila down by her stomach.

Lila thrashed, aggravating her already sore muscles, until the biting sting consuming her entire being melted into a tingly numbness. Still, it was prominent enough that she hardly felt Cassara stroking her stomach.

“There you go, honey.” She tucked a lock of hair behind Lila’s ear. “Doesn’t that feel nice?”

Lila couldn’t bring herself to growl like she wanted to. She was too preoccupied catching her breath.

“I’ll try to make this as gentle as possible,” Cassara said, pulling the stool over to the side of the tub. “You just rest and let me work, alright?” Without waiting for an answer, she produced a washcloth, dunking it into the water before smearing it across Lila’s forehead. She took her jaw in her free hand when she flinched away.

“While I appreciate—” Deceptively dainty fingers tilted her head upwards, the washcloth swiped across her skin. “—Your help here—” To the side. “—I don’t think—” And the other. “—All this is necessary.” She gripped the rim of the tub to pull herself up. “I mean—” Only to be pushed back down. “—I don’t even know you.”

“You’re hurt, darling,” Cassara cooed. “The least I can do is try to lessen your suffering.”

“But bathing me?” Water poured from cupped hands onto Lila’s head. “That’s easy enough to do myself.” Fingers carded through her hair on both sides of her head, effectively pulling it from her face. “And I’m not sure I like you touching me this mu…ch…”

That’s what ultimately did it. Having Cassara’s nails against her scalp, hands massaging soap into her hair. Whatever remaining objections she had fizzled out entirely. Cassara chuckled above her.

“You were saying?”

Only a hum came in response. Lila’s eyelids fluttered shut. Finally. Cassara hoped she wouldn’t have to influence her anymore after this.

When the fallen layers of grime had clouded the lukewarm water brown, steam long gone from the air, Cassara tucked the ends of a towel beneath Lila’s arms so it would wrap around her body when removed from the bath. Bridal wouldn’t keep the towel in place as well, so instead Cassara held Lila’s chest to her own, an arm around her back and another supporting her behind.

Encased in the warm body in her arms, Lila's heart, pumping dutifully, pulsed right through her own chilled skin, vibrations echoing in her ancient ribcage. What she wouldn’t give to wrench it right out and grind it into a pulp directly over her mouth. Of course she considered it, when she found the poor thing in the first place, but no. No, she’d been smart to wait. She knew it as soon as she got that pretty face in her hands. She would take her time with this one. Have fun with her.

She’d have to put up with the resistance for a time, but that was no matter. It would fade. It always did.

Darkness veiled the room when Lila’s senses eventually came back to her. She grunted as she stretched her drowsy limbs, fingers splayed out on the silken sheets. They were cool against her palms, smooth when she scrunched them in her hands, with no stray fibers to catch on her nails. She couldn’t remember buying them, but god, she was grateful she did.

Wait.

A familiar soreness greeted her when she sat herself up in the bed. Beneath the plush comforter, Lila’s legs lay clean and bandaged, a splint hugging her right ankle. She pushed back the sleeves of her nightgown to find light bandaging as well. Nightgown. When did she…?

 “Oh god,” she whispered. It really did happen. That creep really stripped and bathed her like some kind of doll. And her head—what did she do to her? How did she muddle her mind so badly?

 Regardless, her head was clear now. Still no memory before entering the forest, and no idea where said forest even was, but she had to get out before anything else could be done to her.

She could hardly tell what was around her, but she could just make out the faint outline of a window not too far from the bed. Not a single beam of light shown through it; was it closed? That was fine, she’d smash it if she had to. Sliding off the bed, she set for the window. But, in an overestimation of strength, put weight on her right leg, only for her ankle to fail her, and toppled to the floor instead. Splintering pain overwhelmed the joint so much that she had to grit her teeth not to cry out.

A wooden groan from the other end of the room, followed by footsteps marked with the glow of a candle. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no.

Could she roll under the bed? There’s no way she could crawl to the window in time before—

“Lila, sweetheart?”

Lila ran through every curse she knew in her head. Cassara held her candle around to where Lila lay on the ground, brought a hand to her cheek.

“How did this happen, precious?”

Lila snarled despite the pounding in her chest.

“Don’t you dare touch me.” She pushed up on her hands. “I swear I’ll kill you.”

Her pulse picked up at Cassara’s laugh.

“Aw,” Lila tried to scramble back as she approached. “I can see you’ve got your energy back.” She took Lila by the upper arm and hoisted her into the air, more-or-less plopping her back onto the bed.

It didn’t take long for Cassara to light the rest of the room, revealing a large vanity and an even greater closet, and, yes, the rounded window with the curtains drawn, a plush couch beneath it. She set down the original candle and pinched it out.

“I’ve sent for some water,” She said, taking a seat before the vanity. “I know you must be parched, but you can’t gulp it all down at once and make yourself sick.” She took a hairbrush sitting on the vanity, pulled her hair over her shoulder to brush it. Lila sat back up.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She fumed. “Did you drug me?”

“Not at all, dear.” Cassara remained entirely focused on her reflection. “But I did have to influence you to keep you from fighting me. If you would just do as I ask then I wouldn’t need to do so.” Satisfied, she returned the brush, leaned into the mirror to examine her eyelashes better.

“What?” In the mirror Cassara watched, waited for Lila to put the pieces together. It was adorable, how her eyes bugged and her skin paled. She could hardly suppress the grin threatening to break out when they locked eyes in the glass.

“You’re—" She gasped. Cassara flashed her fangs.

“A vampire?” She turned in her seat to face the bed. “It’s alright darling, you can say it. It’s not a dirty word.” Her smile was up to her eyes now. Oh, this was wonderful.

“What do—” Lila swallowed. “Are you going to kill me? Is that why you did all this? To make a better meal for you?”

“Maybe a little.” A pause. “You know,” Cassara made a point of rising slowly to her feet. “It was incredibly lucky that I was the one to discover you.” She waltzed around the bed, fingers running along the blankets. “Any other vampire may have been…” They came to snake up Lila’s leg, resting just above her knee, trailing goosebumps in their wake. “…Ill-intentioned.” She loved the way her chest struggled to calm itself.

“And what are your intentions?” Her eyes followed Cassara’s as she lowered to her level.

“To make you mine.” Another hand rose to cup her face, thumb swaying along her cheek. “All you have to do is be a good pet and behave.”

“Pet?” Lila jerked back from the hand. “Are you out of your mind? Look, lady, if you want to eat me, fine. But I’m not going to be your stupid dog. And will you stop—” She shook off the hand on her leg, kicked it away for good measure. “—touching me! What is your deal with that anyway?”

Without breaking eye contact, Cassara settled onto the edge of the bed, her bed, rested her hands calmly on her lap.

“You do know what they say about this wood, don’t you?”

Lila kept her mouth shut. She would lose her confidence again if she didn’t.

“Those who enter never return. Can you guess why?”

Silent.

“The canopy is so thick that it’s always dark, day or night. Neither the moon or sun ever so much as peek through the leaves. Naturally, creatures who cherish the shadows tend to flock here. Know what that means?”

Cassara moved to crawl towards Lila. Lila sunk back into the bedding as she came to hover over her. Her heartbeat sped up again.

“It means that there are swarms of vampires all around us. If something else doesn’t get you, they will. And most aren’t as forgiving as I have been.” Her hair dangled above Lila, black curtains framing her head. Her knees dug into the mattress on either side of Lila’s body.

“So if you want to see the rest of your life, you best not cross the one that doesn’t want to exterminate you. I found you, I get to keep you. That makes this,” She clutched one of Lila’s hips, nails biting her skin through the nightgown. “This,” Then the same with her head. “And this,” From her hip she brought her hand to just where Lila’s heart would be, caged it with her fingers. “Mine. Every part of you, inside and out, belongs to me. You are mine to do whatever I want with. And I have no issue doing anything it takes to get that through your pretty little head. Do you understand?”

Lila nodded rapidly. Cassara pushed her nails deeper into her skin.

“Say it.”

“I understand.”

With a sigh, her features softened, moved her hands to cradle Lila’s face as she gently lowered herself to rest on her legs. Her thumbs rubbed over her precious cheeks.

“I’ll take such good care of you, little one,” She murmured. “No one will love you as much as I will. You’ll be so happy here. I just need you to be good for me, okay? Will you be good for me, pet?”

“Yes.” It was barely audible. Cassara pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I know you will.”

[starlit-hopes-and-dreams]

Chapter 29 ~ Everything I am is you

Hidden Depths

Previous ~ Masterlist ~ Next

Also on ao3

Genre: Fantasy whump

CW’s: sexual discussions of the ace variety XD, extremely brief reference to past noncon

WC: 3891

Taglist: @dont-touch-my-soup, @kixngiggles

In which it's time for a fucking talk already

AN: no cliffies this week, you're welcome 😅 we are getting legitimately so close to the end that I have considered if this should be the last chapter and the one i'm working on now would be an epilogue. mainly because the end of this one is such a good parallel to how i ended arc 1.

anyways, i'm undecided. i guess it depends on if i still feel the need to go on when i finish the next chapter

now, please excuse me while i go hide in a hole in the ground

Resh

“Maybe… maybe it’s best if I go.” 

Carr’s words had the effect of a death knell, collapsing all the air in the room. 

At least, that’s what it felt like, since shock had paralyzed his lungs. Resh swayed, catching himself with a hand on the bed. Thinking better of sitting unassisted at a time like this, he moved until his back was flush with the headboard. 

What? Resh’s lips barely moved, but it was clear she caught the intent all the same. 

She sucked in a shallow breath, looking nearer to tears than he’d ever seen her. “I can keep trying, but I’m afraid I’m not gonna fit here, and I’ll be damned if I’m the reason we leave the best place we’ve been in yet.” 

It took a moment for the meaning of the words to make their way to his brain. He was having a hard time keeping up with this conversation, which had gone from her being angry at him to telling him his character was too good to her claiming she trusted him but then acting the exact opposite. 

She was keeping things from him, again. And because of that, she wanted to leave? His heart skipped a few beats, then resumed at double time, leaving him feeling clammy.  

I heard they’re making that camp a village. Is that– Is that where you want to go? The words fell from lips gone numb, crashing to the floor like stones. 

Carr shuddered, standing entirely too still. Her knuckles were white where they clenched her elbows. 

Resh wanted to cross the room and shake some sense into her. He wanted to take her into his arms. He wanted–he wanted her not to leave them. Him. 

But he also wanted her to be happy. 

Talk to me, Carr, he pleaded, but she just stared at him, her eyes glistening. 

Seconds, then minutes, passed in utter silence, each one slicing into him, leaving him bleeding from dozens of ghostly wounds, until–

Someone rapped on the door. 

The cadence was sharp and not to be denied, breaking the stalemate between them. They both turned to look. 

The knocking came a second time, louder and more insistent. “I know you can’t answer me, so I’m coming in,” Salma’s muffled voice announced. 

A moment later, she did exactly that. “Oh, Carr, why didn’t you–never mind. Hmm, this makes this more convenient, I suppose.” 

Resh glanced at Carr to see if she knew what the lady was talking about, but her face was blank, unreadable. He reached for his new notebook.

Salma pointed at Carr. “You are not leaving. I won’t allow it.” She crossed her arms, a mulish expression crossing her features. “I mean, I will, I guess, you aren’t a prisoner here, but you shouldn’t leave.” 

His pencil slipped and scratched a dark line across the entire page. What in the– He checked on Carr, who seemed equally stunned. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” Salma huffed, tucking a curl behind her ear. “Like it was hard to figure out. That girl doesn’t belong in that village, and I doubt your very good friend is thrilled with the idea either, which means you’d be going alone, and that’s just not right, seeing as they both revolve around you like you’re their sun.”

Very good friend? Resh’s eyes darted between Carr and the lady, who had crossed her arms and was now tapping her foot as she spoke. 

“If you gave us half a chance and stopped forcing yourself into a mold you clearly aren’t comfortable in, you might actually like it here. If you absolutely feel you need a reason to wear pants and that blade you’re so fond of, feel free to join the guard or whatever. Just don’t up and leave.”

A hint of color had entered Carr’s too pale cheeks, but she said nothing in response to the lady’s tirade. 

“Talk some sense into her,” Salma said to him before leaving as abruptly as she’d entered.  

Resh’s attention returned to Carr, hoping for some kind of explanation, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. 

“I-I need a minute,” she choked out, then fled for the bathing room. 

Godsdamnit! Resh threw the notebook on the bed. He should probably be used to being laid up in one way or another by now, but it was fucking frustrating. He could get up and go after her, but that would take what remained of his energy and the gods knew he was going to need it to make it through this conversation. 

Presuming she talked to him, of course. 

He had the feeling that it was now or never. That if he didn’t get her to talk, she’d walk away and not return. And he could not, would not, abide that. They’d come too far, and she meant too much, for him to allow that to happen. 

What was she thinking? He tried to tamp down his anxiety enough to consider the possibilities. With her, it could be any number of things. Probably was a number of things. But there had to be a root concern. He just had to dig it out. 

She’d mentioned fear over being able to fit in. It felt too easy to be the cornerstone, but it was a valid concern. It had to be hard for her to imagine what kind of life she could lead in a place like this. He understood the lure of that camp in that way. She was used to living on the fringes of society, knew how to behave in them. 

He kept an eye on the bathing room, but aside from the faint splash of water, he heard nothing, so he moved on. 

Had there been something more with that guy he’d seen her with than she’d let on? No, he couldn’t really see that. 

Did she think she was dragging them down? Obviously she did, if she thought she might get them kicked out, but… the whole point of this was to find a place for all of them. And it was just as difficult to find a place where he could be comfortable as it was for her. It wasn’t all on her, but… she should know that.  

Maybe it was him. She’d said so, back when they’d first started out, that she didn’t know what this was between them. She’d freaked out at the thought of being important to him, so he’d let it go. Maybe that had been a mistake. Maybe the prospect of finally settling down and facing what was between them had her so spooked that she wanted to run. 

Maybe… maybe he was the only one with feelings like that, and he had everything all w–

The door to the bathing room creaked as it opened, interrupting his increasingly spiraling thoughts. 

Is it me? he blurted as soon as she glanced his way. 

Carr started, but her red-veined eyes remained locked on him while she moved out of the doorway. She’d changed back into pants, he noticed. What really caught his attention, though, was the bag looped over her shoulder.

His breath caught; it really was now or never. She wouldn’t, or maybe couldn’t, talk to him, so he needed to be the one doing the talking. Before she sidled around the bed and out the door.   

I didn’t do as well with the traveling as I’d hoped, he said, watching her carefully. And now I’m laid up again, mostly relying on you to communicate for me, and you to keep me in a good place in my head, and I know it’s a lot. 

She shook her head. “I… I don’t care ‘bout any of that.” 

He hadn’t really thought so, but it was good to hear it. And maybe… maybe if he’d needed to hear that, there were things she needed to hear. 

You know you matter more to me than for just the things you can help me with, right? That if you left,–he had to swallow past the lump that rose in his throat–if you left, it would kill me, inside. 

He thumped his chest for emphasis, wincing when he jarred his wound. The numbing medicine was wearing off. Amazing timing, that. He didn’t have time to deal with it though, so he ignored it. 

I don’t care if we have to scour the entire realm for a place that fits all of us. I don’t care if we have to build a place from the ground up. I just want to be with you, in a place where you can feel free to be you. 

I love you, he wanted to say but didn’t. He was pushing it as it was, based on how little color was left in her face. 

His heart sank when she didn’t reply. If that’s not what you want, that’s fine. The words left him feeling raw, even silent as they were. I’ll respect that. But I thought you should know. What you mean to me. 

He looked away, his jaw clenched. Waiting for her to say that he had it all wrong. 

For her to take the way out he’d offered. 

Instead, a low keening sound had him snapping his head back up, but it stopped when she clapped a hand over her mouth. He leaned forward a bit, alarmed at her reaction. 

“You can’t– I can’t,” she finally said, the whites of her eyes visible all the way around as she backed away. 

Can’t what? Resh asked. He held his breath. 

“I c-can’t,” she moaned, stumbling into one of the chairs. She moved behind it, clutching it like a shield. 

Well, shit. Maybe she hadn’t needed to hear that. He held out his hand in supplication, hoping she’d understand because she sure wasn’t looking at his face anymore. He wasn’t sure she was looking at anything. 

And then she was, although there was a desperate look in her eyes. “Take it back,” she pleaded. “Tell me I misunderstood. Tell me you aren’t over there trying t’ say you l-love me or something and that’s why you don’t want me t’ go.” 

Guess he hadn’t needed to say the actual words for her to get the meaning. Fuck. 

I can’t, he said, his chest aching in a way that had nothing to do with his wound. Why is that a bad thing? 

He couldn’t understand. Surely to gods, it wasn’t a surprise that he cared for her; he’d just given it words. What difference did she think–

Carr fell to her knees. Her bag clunked when it hit the floor, forgotten as she hunched over, her breath coming in ragged gasps. 

Oh shit. Resh didn’t even think. He moved, ignoring the now dull throb of his shoulder as he knelt beside her. 

It was torture, but he didn’t touch her, fearing he’d make whatever this was worse. She knew he was there; he was close enough that she could shift her weight and her knee would bump into his. 

So he waited, wishing to all the gods that he could speak to her when she wasn’t looking. He’d tell her everything would be alright. Tell her she had nothing to fear from him. 

This changes nothing, he said when she finally regained control and raised her head. 

She stared at him helplessly, a tear tracking down her cheek. 

“It changes everything,” she whispered. 

Tell me what, he said, clenching his fist inside his sling. This was it, the root of it all; he felt it in his bones. But he didn’t want to guess wrong. He also did not want to talk about what he thought would be coming next, but he’d do anything to get that look off her face. Anything to convince her to stay. 

“P-people who, who l-love each other, they–and I can’t, I can’t, I– Resh, I’ve tried, I’ve tried! Please, I can’t…” She covered her mouth again with trembling hands. 

Who love each other. Very good friend. 

Oh gods. 

The relief he felt… indescribable. She returned his feelings, at least somewhat. But on the heels of that came a suffocating guilt. She’d been so afraid, for all this time, thinking he’d eventually want–he swallowed down the pain that came when he realized he’d made her suffer with that uncertainty. He reached out with his free hand, and she actually took it, squeezing so hard his bones creaked. 

I am so sorry, I didn’t realize– He shook his head at the bewildered look on her face. It doesn’t matter. Look, you don’t need to worry about that. I don’t expect sex from you. His face burned, but one of them needed to say it. 

Her whole body jerked, her nails digging into his palm. “Y-you don’t? But–”

No buts, he said. 

Carr pulled her hand back, her expression hardening. “I won’t sit around while you fuck someone else.”  

I don’t want anyone else. If he’d had his voice, she would’ve heard how ridiculous he thought that was.  

“I’m serious,” she said. “I would kill them, and that’s not fair. I should leave, while I’m still able to–” 

Resh slapped his hand on his knee, cutting her off. I don’t want anyone else.

She swiped her sleeve across her face, sniffing. “I don’t understand.” 

It’s not… something that’s important to me? If anything, his face burned hotter. He didn’t know how to make it any more clear. 

She was silent, her head cocked as she contemplated him. 

You tried it? He couldn’t even imagine, as touch averse as she was. How had she tolerated it? Or had she? Or was it forced on you? 

She snorted. “Both. But I felt like I needed to be sure because nobody would get off my fuckin’ back about it.” She went on, all while Resh tried to keep himself from shattering over her first response. “‘When you gonna get yourself a girl, Carr?’ or ‘My gods, just get laid already’ when they thought I was in a mood.”

He shifted, wincing when his ribs protested the movement. He wanted to address the first part but didn’t think she’d appreciate it. So he forced himself to move past it, as she had. They sound like a bunch of dicks. I’m surprised you let that get to you. 

Her mouth twisted. “Yeah, well.” She looked like she wanted to say more but instead said, “Let’s get you back to bed.” 

As she helped him up, he tried not to wonder if this would be the last time. He wanted his energy back, of course. He wanted to not be such a fucking burden. But would this be the last time his arm was around her shoulders? The last time he would feel her warmth and be able to tell himself it was real? 

I wish I had been there for you, he said after she’d helped him get situated, unable to let it go completely. He leaned against the headboard, trying to catch his breath. He probably should’ve laid down, but he wasn’t ready to give up. Would never be ready. 

“It was a long time ago,” she said, not even bothering to pretend she didn’t know what he meant. 

Like that made it any better. Gods. Resh watched her as she stood up, trying to memorize the way she swept her hair out of her face, the set of her lips, the graceful way she moved. I don’t want you to go.

She took in a shaky breath. “I don’t want to be the reason you can’t stay here. And… I know you say it doesn’t matter, but I lived with a bunch of men. Who thought I was a man. It’s all they ever thought about. The amount of sex jokes I know alone is ridiculous. And I just… I don’t know. I think– I think there’s something wrong with me, Resh.” 

He opened his mouth, but she kept talking before he could say anything. 

“I went to that brothel because I needed t’ know, not because those stupid pricks needled me into it. Needed t’ see if I was broken, or just made wrong.” She wrinkled her nose, a faraway look in her eye. “I couldn’t tell, but the thought of ever trying it again makes me feel sick.”

Resh felt sick, that she’d put herself through that. 

“I’ve heard… heard people say it’s different with someone you care about.” Her breath hitched, and the look she shot him was full of both desperation and sheer terror. “Anyone I could’ve cared about before I couldn’t have knowing I was a girl. But you…” Her mouth worked, but nothing came out. She wrapped her arms around her middle and took a step back. 

You care about me? he prompted, eyeing the door she was inching towards. Her bag still lay on the floor across the room, but he didn’t think that would stop her. 

She nodded and took another step back. 

And you think I’ll hold you to some nonsense like that when it’s clear how uncomfortable even the thought makes you? His breath was coming too fast, sending shards of fire rippling across his chest. 

She was balanced on her toes, looking like she was poised to take flight at a moment’s notice. If he said the wrong thing, he was confident she’d bolt out that door and he’d never see her again. The thought had him breaking out in a cold sweat. 

If there’s something wrong with you–which, for the record, I don’t think there is–then there’s something wrong with me too, he said, keeping a close eye on her body language while he spoke. I think we’re just… different. 

“We?” she asked sharply. 

It doesn’t bother me as much as it seems to bother you, but–

“It? I’m gonna need you t’ be very specific here,” Carr said, her eyes a little wild. “‘It’ the whole, ‘it’ a part of…” 

Gods. He passed a hand before his face. I’ve had… sex, and it was fine, I guess, but I haven’t for… I don’t even know how long, and I don’t really care if I ever do again. My… fuck, my hand works just fine– Oh gods, Carr, please say you understand. I’ve never been able to talk about this shit without feeling like I’d rather sink into the ground for all eternity. 

Absolute utter silence. He wasn’t sure she was breathing. He wasn’t sure he wasn’t going to burst into flames.

There’s more to loving someone than wanting to fuck them. He scrunched his face, trying to convey the bitterness that would’ve been present in his tone. I. Don’t. Fucking. Care. 

“You really don’t?” she whispered. Her weight shifted, no longer balanced so precariously. 

The scarred skin of his brow felt uncomfortably tight beneath the blazing heat of his embarrassment. I really don’t. He held out his hand, wanting her away from that door. 

A calculating look entered her wary gaze, and she took a hesitant step forward. “Do you want to kiss me?” 

Dear gods. This conversation might kill him, and then it wouldn’t matter if she left. 

Only if you wanted me to. He kept his hand out, even though his arm shook with the effort. 

“Do you want to touch me?” She swept her hand over her body, arching an eyebrow. 

He was careful to keep his cringe internal. Only if you wanted me to. 

Carr took another step forward. And another. He felt like he was barely breathing. 

Skirting his hand, she climbed onto the bed and straddled him. Resh let his arm drop, prickles of alarm skating up his spine. What was she doing? 

She leaned forward, hesitated to make her intention clear, and when he didn’t protest slanted her lips across his. 

It was the most chaste and innocent kiss he’d ever experienced. It was also the most devastatingly effective kiss he’d ever experienced. His heart thudded against the confines of his chest, feeling like it might burst out of its cage.

Only a few seconds passed before she pulled away. Her cheeks were flushed when she asked, in the most deadly saccharine sweet tone he’d ever heard, “Do you want to fuck me now?” 

No, he said without a second’s hesitation. Goosebumps broke out over his exposed flesh. He didn’t dare move a muscle. 

“What, no ‘only if you want me to’ for that one?” she asked, sitting back on his thighs. Her eyes glittered queerly. 

He shook his head. No. You’ve made your feelings abundantly clear. I would never. 

“But what if I asked you to?” she pressed. 

I think I might fall over dead, and then it would be a moot point, he said with a nervous laugh. 

That must’ve done the trick because the tension faded. Confusion settled over her features instead. 

“What do you want, Resh?” 

For you to stay. He clenched the bedspread in his hand so he didn’t do something stupid. 

Exasperated, she said, “Besides that.” 

I want… I want to build a life with you. When you were gone, after… after. I missed you all the time. So bad, it was a physical ache. I want to see you smile. I want you to feel safe. 

“I missed you, too,” she said, gracing him with a little smile that faded too quickly for his liking. “Physically, Resh. What do you want?” 

He sighed. I like holding your hand. I like when you brush my hair back, or touch my cheek. I like when you sit next to me and our shoulders touch. 

“What else?” she prompted, swiping her hair out of her face. 

Resh stared at her hand longingly. Her weight on his legs was an exquisite torture. He wanted to rest his hand on her thigh. He wanted to–oh, he was supposed to be telling her that. 

I’d like to hold you, sometimes, he said after a moment. If you wanted. 

“Is… is that it?” she asked, her brow furrowing. 

He swallowed. It seemed like a lot to ask of her, considering. It’s not… you don’t have to. I don’t want anything you aren’t comfortable with. 

Instead of answering, she climbed off his lap. A lump rose in his throat. Was that it, then? Had it been enough? 

But she didn’t move away as he’d thought she would. No, she came closer, up under his arm on his uninjured side. 

“Does this hurt?” she asked, lightly laying her head on her shoulder. 

He couldn’t breathe, but it wasn’t because he was hurting. She looked up, and he shook his head. 

“You can put your arm around me,” she said, the warm puffs of her breath skating across his skin. “I’m pretty sure that’s part of holding someone.”  

He huffed. She wasn’t wrong. Gingerly, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, then lowered his chin on top of her head. He was hyperaware of her body, of how what little stiffness there had been slowly melted away, how her breathing evened out and slowed. She rested her hand on his chest, over his heart, and he had to tell himself not to cry. 

His eyes burned anyway. Never in his wildest dreams had he actually thought she’d allow this. 

“I’ll stay,” she whispered. 

A tear fell free, and then another. 

He’d never been more grateful.

Next

[officialleehadan]

Spark of Warmth

Hello darlings. Another new one for you! So, fair warning, this one involves a fair bit of whump, and some fairly serious injuries, although it's mostly off-screen. if that bothers you, this may not be one for you.

+++

Everything hurt.

Rhylaen lay in the snow, fighting to get his broken body to listen to him. Today’s beating was worse than usual and left him barely able to move through the crippling pain. The tally of injuries, on top of the ones form former thrashings, was nearly enough to steal his reason.

The fate of a hostage, too valuable to kill, but not valuable enough to keep in good health.

The worst, as always, was his eyes. The court mages of his captors knew better than to let a dragon keep his most dangerous weapon. Most of his magic was locked away by the heavy steel collar around his throat, and the matching bracelets around his wrists and ankles, but his eyes still showed his true nature. It was no secret that a dragon could steal the mind of anyone fool enough to meet their gaze. The potion the court mages poured into his eyes once a month kept him blind, and kept him helpless.

The snow was soft under his hands as he finally found the strength to push himself off the ground. The latest batch of rowdies eager to cause him pain threw him against something, and a brief moment of feeling around cautiously revealed rough bark. A tree, he thought. He only knew the palace by feel, and by counting his own steps.

Naturally it was the favorite trick of his captors to haul him around before they took their fists to him. There was nothing funnier, he assumed bitterly, than watching him stumble blindly about until he managed to find something familiar enough to make it back to his cold cell of a room. A few of the kinder servants would help him if they could do it without being seen, but most took the chance to strike at someone who was of the nobility, but unprotected.

He didn’t resent them the bruises he got at their hands. He knew too well how terrible their masters were. A vulnerable noble must be as tempting as a roast left before the nose of a starving dog. Perhaps if he had his claws, he could defend himself a little, but like his eyes, those were stolen away, filed down until he bled at the same time they blinded him.

The cold was a friend and foe as he battled his way to his feet with the tree to help. It numbed the pain of his injuries, but it stole his strength away. If he was able to wear his scales, he could have kept himself warm. Trapped in this human form, he was at the mercy of nature, without even proper clothing to hold off the chill. When the wind howled past, he fell again and spent long minutes trying to think through the sluggishness of the cold, and the pain of his newest bruises.

“What in the world?”

A voice. Female. Noble, but not of Graespan, by the accent. He wished desperately that he could see, but as always, there was nothing but the velvet blackness that had plagued him for moons. His other senses were sharp enough to warn him of several sets of feet. Four at least, two heavy enough to be male, by the sound of boots in the snow.

The scent of some flower he couldn’t name wafted around him faintly. Perfume. Definitely a noble lady. None of the maids could afford such a fine scent. They were lucky enough to be clean, but little more than that.

Rhyl tried to stand. It was always better to face them on his feet. He made it as far as his knees before the last of his strength failed him and he had to reach for the tree again to even manage that much.

A warm hand caught his before he found the tree again and he barely kept from flinching away. The hand was small enough to be female, and too soft for one of the castle maids. The noble woman then, or one of her ladies in waiting.

Noble women were more dangerous than the men, for all that they rarely saw a reason to bother him. When they did, though, they were crueler and more creative. They so rarely had power over a man, and were not inclined towards mercy when they could pay back their hurts on a target who could not fight back.

“Help him,” the woman’s voice came again, this time from just in front of him. Rhyl might have pulled away, but her grasp on his hand was gentle, and he couldn’t bring himself to refuse a friendly touch. “Be careful. Sweet Winds, who did this to you?”

“I don’t know,” Rhyl rasped through a throat tight with pain and cold. Strong hands tucked under his elbows, two on each side, and helped him up, wary of his injuries. Without their support, he might have fallen again. One of them, likely men by their strength, got an arm around his waist and pulled one of Rhyl’s arms over his shoulders. “They surprised me.”

The lady let go of his hand in favor of tilting his face up, her touch feather-light under his chin, and she gasped. He knew why. The crueler servants mocked his clouded eyes often enough to know what they looked like. The potion that kept him blind burned terribly. The damage faded between applications, but never fast enough for him to regain his sight before they took it away again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, or I would have warned you before we touched you,” she said, much to his surprise. He had long since given up on even such a small courtesy.  “You aren’t a servant, are you?”

“No,” Rhyl said, although his thin, tattered clothing would suggest otherwise. It probably wasn’t wise to reveal his status to this unknown woman, but lying did not come easily to him and the cold fogged his mind almost to incoherence. “A… guest, of King Miquest’s.”

“So am I,” the lady said with a soft understanding over hard bitterness. Her fingers disappeared from his face. He mourned the loss of even that tiny spark of warmth. “I don’t have a healer on my staff, but I can at least see to it you get a clean bath, and something warmer than an old robe.”

“They’ll take it away,” he said, unable to allow himself even that much hope. There was a small noise of outrage from the man holding him up. He appreciated it, even if it didn’t mean much. “I’m easier to manage when I’m cold.”

“I don’t care,” she said, now with an edge of anger, although Rhyl knew well enough to tell it wasn’t directed at him. “I can’t help you much, but it will be more than nothing.”

“You shouldn’t help me at all,” he told her, his own instincts to protect, even a little, rousing for the first time since he was captured. This lady had been kind to him. He could at least warn her off before she came to harm on his behalf. “They amuse themselves with me. Don’t draw their attention.”

“It’s my attention they should fear,” she said, colder than the wind around them. Heavy silks rustled as if the wearer was a moment from storming off in a rage. “Come. We two guests of the king may not be welcome here, but we can at least make our own hospitality somewhere warmer than this wretched courtyard.”

“As you say,” Rhyl gave in, the lure of warmth, maybe even of a bath and a meal, too much for him to resist. If nothing else, the heat would help him heal faster. The men at his sides helped him forward and they began the slow trek through the castle. On habit, he counted his steps, but it was useless without knowing his starting point. The lady stayed, and he could hear at least two other people, her maids most likely, by the soft sound of their slippers. “I don’t know your name.”

“Nikala Alloriala,” she said. He thought he could hear the ghost of a smile in her voice, but it sounded forced. Small wonder. If his memory was to be trusted, she was a princess of one of the southern countries. Rich, but too small to have a military enough to hold off King Miquest’s greed. He wondered if she was taken in war, like him, or sent as a sacrifice to tentative peace. “And yours?”

“Rhylaen,” he said after only a moment’s hesitation, and a little fear that she might recognize his name as he recognized hers. Probably not. His people did not have royalty as humans did, although his mother was the queen of dragons, so much as they did have a queen. It wasn’t his true name, of course. That could only be spoken by another dragon. A small mercy. The court wizards would do almost anything to have a dragon under their control. His lack of a Name they could use was a scant defense, but it was better than the alternative. “Of Dragon’s Roost.”

“Well met,” Nikala said, punctuated by the sound of a door, and then a blessed rush of warmth that nearly took Rhyl to his knees once more. “Although I wish it was under better circumstances. Go bathe. There will be clothing and a meal waiting when you’re done, and perhaps…. Perhaps after, you can tell me what I’ve fallen into in this court. It seems there are a great many things I need to know, and not much time to learn them.”

+++

Bitter Hospitality:

Spark of Warmth

Warmth Given 

Gifted Away (Subscriber Only!) (New!)

Scented Treason (New!)

+++

MASTERLIST

[whumpcloud]

Things End | People Change - Four/Six

masterlist

taglist: @whumpsday @whumpycries @whumpwillow @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @whumpshaped @suspicious-whumping-egg @chibichibivale @melancholy-in-the-morning @zillastar13 @bloodinkandashes @whump-me-all-night-long @sickophantic @thecyrulik @itsmyworld98

content: vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, (lady) whumpee turned whumper, captivity, beating, panic attacks, dissociation, broken bones, dehumanisation, begging (for death at one point), questionable caretaking

It's Clary alone, this time, and Vincent's surprised, but he accepts it. She's getting braver. Good. Good for her.

He means it. He's happy that she's better, that she's working to live with everything he did to her. That she can be in his presence and not be so afraid anymore. Cai's told him a little, in their brief conversations, of what Clary's recovery was like, and it only made him feel more guilty and more grateful that she's given him a room and a bed and a meal every day, and given no indication that it could be taken.

Not that he doesn't think it could be. Of course. But it seems like it won't simply be on a whim. As long as he behaves, he gets to have it, and he's good at behaving.

"May I ask a question?" Vincent whispers.

Clary sighs, and shrugs. "Fine. Go ahead."

"Were you planning to take me here?" Vincent asks. "W-When you came to see me. I mean, you had… had the bed set up, and…"

She stares at the floor. "I don't know. The bed was here already, I just threw in an old nightstand and put the bedsheets on in case I ended up taking you for whatever reason. But the bed's here 'cause I used to sleep in it."

"You slept in the basement?" Vincent's confused.

"Because of the deadbolt," she mumbles.

Oh. Because of him. Vincent shifts uncomfortably and goes back to his meal.

Clary hates watching him feed, so she stares at the wall. Tense silence. She twists her stiff neck, and scratches where her scars are under her scarf.

"Were you going to kill me?" Vincent murmurs.

"No," Clary shrugs. "I mean, I wasn't planning to. I just… wanted to see what they'd done to you."

Vincent doesn't say anything. Clary isn't sure she's really seen any of it. The cuts and bruises and burns on his exposed skin are bad, the starving is horrific, but the begging.

The begging. How did they get him to beg for the pain like that? The Vincent she knew wouldn't debase himself in that way.

He didn't change, she reminds herself. They just killed a part of him. He didn't change.

Vincent drops the bag a good distance from himself, so that Clary doesn't have to get too close. She doesn't move from where she's standing against the wall.

"C-Clary?" he whispers. "I'm finished."

Cai's started giving Vincent his clothes, the ones he doesn't wear anymore. Vincent's hiding himself in a blue jumper that looks too big for him, and it's the same fucking one that Cai wore when Clary saw him again for the first time in years. It's not his fault. He doesn't know that it's important to her.

Why should Vincent get to have it? Why should he get to have anything from them, from her? Her heart is pounding in her ears. Chest hurts. He left her to die, and this is kind, this is the kind option, because even if she just let him go, he'd only be alone again.

"Clary?" Vincent says again, worry in his tone, and puts a tentative foot on the floor to stand up.

"Get away from me!" she snaps, and presses up against the wall.

Vincent immediately recoils, curling into himself. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I sh-shouldn't… I shouldn't have moved, I'm sorry."

He's right there, this fucking thing that has haunted her for the last four years, and he won't move if she tells him not to. Just like she wouldn't, just like he fucking trained her with the pain and the fights and the uncertainty.

"You!" she screams. "You did this to me!"

Of course he's scared. He's scared out of his stupid animal mind. But it's equally relieving when her fist finally connects with his muzzled face, and he can sink into pain. Pain is a lesson. Pain is a reminder. She hates him and that's all he needs to know or care about. Even if he wishes she didn't.

She grabs him by the hair and pins him to the floor, the force of it reverberating through his skull. He cries out, though it really could hurt worse. Clary still isn't that strong, but he'll be in however much pain she wants him to be, for however long she wants.

Clary holds him down with her left hand, even though he knows she's left handed and would hit him better with it. Because he broke her left wrist, snapped it in his grip unthinkingly, and his whimpers and cries only get louder as she repeatedly hits him in the face. Blood drips from his nose.

He goes entirely limp to make it easier to pull him up. She slams him into the bedpost by the shirt, and stands up, breathing heavily. She kicks him, again and again and again and again.

One of his ribs snaps. It's isn't a sensation he hasn't felt before. Still, a sob sticks in his throat and he raises his arms to defend himself, or to at least block any more blows to the face.

And she stops. She stares at this broken, pathetic creature on the floor in front of her, and she breathes out, and she wonders why in hell she feels like crying.

"Thank you," Vincent whimpers.

"Fuck you," she growls, but there's no real malice behind it.

And she leaves.

Cai finds her eventually, in the middle of the hallway, hugging her knees tightly, breathing as though she's drowned a moment before.

"What did he do?" Cai signs sharply.

"N-Nothing," Clary whispers. "I… I…"

Cai shushes her and kneels down, giving her his arm to squeeze. "Breathe. Four, six."

In for four, out for six. Clary breathes. In for four, out for six. Four, six, four, six, four six four six four six-

"I c-can't!" Clary pulls at her hair and Cai gently takes her hand and places it back on his arm.

"Yes, you can." Cai's whispery voice is gentle, steady. "Come on. Both hands."

"I want him gone!" she sobs. "I wanna send him back, I can't do this, I wanna send him back!"

"Think about it later," Cai replies. "You're upset."

"I know!"

Cai doesn't acknowledge the outburst. "Four, six."

Clary breathes. Cai counts for her. One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four, five, six. Two, four, three, six. Two, four, three, six. Four, six. Four. Six.

It's been four years, she's twenty-six. She's safe.

"Okay, can you do six and eight?" Cai says, using his other hand to gently rub her shoulder. "You got this."

Three, six, four, eight. Three, six, four, eight. She lets go of him. Six, eight. Six, eight. Six. Eight.

"I'm okay," she exhales. "I'm okay."

Cai smiles. "Okay, dickhead time."

He flips her hair into her face and she laughs. Weakly, but she laughs. She brushes it away. Cai helps her up, and gives her his awkward little pat on the shoulder.

"Peppermint tea?" he suggests. "And I'll go deal with… him."

"Yeah," Clary nods. "I, um… I hurt him."

"Okay," Cai shrugs. "I'm dealing with it."

The peppermint tea isn't really about the tea. It's about the process, having something to do with shaky hands, because you can't spill it. Their mother came up with it when they were kids after Cai was diagnosed with autism, as a self-soothing technique and to remedy his clumsiness. Cai adapted it for Clary's anxiety when she came back. Clary pulls the box from the kitchen cupboard. It's about the process. Focus.

Cai feels like he's going to need an entire pot of coffee after this.

He heads down to the basement. The moment he opens the door, Vincent scrambles back, cowering under the bed.

"Don't!" he pleads, eyes wide. "Please don't, please, I can't, please!"

"Come on," Cai sighs, and leans down to pull him out by the arm.

"NO!" Vincent struggles, but Cai's stronger than him, and he starts to sob as he's forced out from under the bed. "Please, PLEASE, anything else, please, I can't go back, d-don't make me go back!"

Cai lets Vincent's arm fall, and stares at him as he cries and curls up on the floor. There's a trail of blood from his nose leading down his cheek, and his chest is almost definitely swelling under his shirt. It actually isn't as bad as Cai thought it would be.

"Please, please," Vincent whispers, "don't send me back to them, I'll do anything, I'll do anything you want, please…"

"You heard that?" Cai asks. Same tone as always, but lacking the edge that Vincent's come to expect.

"Mhm," Vincent nods. "I- I'm sorry, I can't help it--"

"Shh," Cai says. Not shut up. "She didn't mean it. She was upset."

"She hates me," Vincent whimpers. "Please, please don't send me back. Please just kill me instead. Please kill me, please--"

"Neither of those things are happening," Cai interrupts, crouching down. "You're not going back, and you're not dying. You're staying here."

"But I- I wouldn't… if it were me I'd… I'd want me dead…"

"Well, unlike you, Clary's actually a good person."

Vincent doesn't understand. Vincent can't focus. Vincent is somewhere else again, more so than usual, and all he can see is the silver knife and the smile and then Cai takes off the muzzle.

Vincent slaps his hands to his mouth anyway. He can't bite, no matter how hungry he is. Cai sighs deeply.

"Come on, I'll lift you up," he mutters.

The whine of pain is piercing, but Cai doesn't hesitate. Vincent barely weighs a thing.

"Thank you, sir," Vincent mumbles.

"Cai, not sir," Cai gently corrects. "Come on, you know that. I'm gonna lay you down on the bed."

Not sir. Bed. Does he know that? He has a bed. He doesn't have one of those. Didn't have one of those.

"A bed," Cai repeats. "Laying you down now."

Vincent sinks into the mattress, and lets Cai sit him up. He slowly moves his hands from his mouth, wipes his eyes, and stares at his lap. The marks on his hands are fading, now. Fading. They aren't being replaced every day.

"M'sorry," Vincent says softly. "I… I didn't…"

Cai can't believe he ever thought Clary needed to be protected from this thing.

"You didn't know where you were," Cai finishes. "Yeah. How bad are you hurt?"

"I'll be fine," Vincent whispers.

Cai sighs. Fine, he'll rephrase to suit. "Is there anything I can do to make it hurt less? Painkillers or ice or something?"

Vincent shakes his head. "N-None of them work. As far as I know. We heal too fast for it to be useful, I think."

"You're not healing though," Cai says. "Not fast."

"It's…" Vincent tries to block Cai out of his view. "It's the blood. A-Animal blood is fine, it's good, it's--"

"Don't give me your whole grateful spiel again," Cai sighs. "I know. Just be honest."

"...animal blood will stop me from starving," Vincent mumbles. "But that's all. I need human blood to heal as normal. B-But more blood would- would help. Even animal blood."

Cai's fingers slip under his sleeve, and he scratches at his wrist for a moment. Then he backs out.

"Two bags a day, then," he says. "Clary does actually want you to heal, believe it or not. And… I'll leave the muzzle off for now. But only when it's just me."

"Oh. You don't have to do that."

"And? I'm gonna."

Vincent doesn't have a response for that.

Cai turns to leave, then stops for a moment. "If we did kill you, we'd do it quick. If that makes you feel any better."

"Thank you." Vincent almost smiles. "It does."

Cai isn't sure it should.

[whumpyourdamnpears]

Fruit of the Wicked: Chapter Three

CW: lady whump, male whumper/female whumpee, poc whump (whumpee is a Black woman), age gap whump (whumper is an older man), religious whump (Christianity), psychological whump, verrrryyyy brief suicidal ideation

A huge shoutout to Marz and Gen for beta reading this chapter

Word Count: 2,136 Previous Next

Dani could distantly hear humming as she dreamed.

The tune was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place where she’d heard it before. Maybe she’d heard it from the country station her car had been stuck on for the first few months she had it. Maybe she’d heard it come from the lips of an old lover, who she’d inevitably leave once she’d grown tired of the city she’d been staying in.

Maybe she’d heard it from the diner.

Her eyes flew open when she realized she wasn’t alone. As her eyes focused, she could see the man from the diner, her captor, sitting in a chair across the room from her, humming the song she couldn’t put a name to and flipping through the pages of a curled leather book. He grinned when he noticed she was awake.

“Took you long enough,” the man said, uncrossing his legs. “I was starting to worry you’d never wake up.”

I wish I hadn’t. Dani squinted, trying to see the man through the dying sunlight. How long have I been asleep? She tried to make out the expression on his face. He didn’t look angry, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t.

The man stood up and made his way over to her, shaking his book in his hand. Dani quickly sat up, groaning as she did so. Her body felt stiff and ached terribly. It’d been years since she last had to sleep on the floor, and yesterday’s metaphorical beat down wasn’t helping how she felt. When he reached her, he leaned forward and held the book inches away from her face. “You ever read one of these?” He asked, giving it a wiggle.

Dani stared at the book, making out the faded gold lettering on the leather cover that read, The Holy Bible: King James Version. She shook her head. “No, I can’t say I have.” She said, not taking her eyes off the cover. “Haven’t had much reason to.”

He shook his head, sighing. “I figured as much.” He began to thumb through the pages. “Someone like you’s never felt the fear of God before.”

“And how would you know that?” Dani asked.

“Oh, it’s obvious.” The man brushed her off with the flick of his hand. “A god-fearing woman doesn’t act a thing like you.” The man stopped, a dark look in his eyes. “I could make you fear God.”

Dani couldn’t help but scoff.

“No, you don’t think so?”

“Oh, I absolutely don’t think so. Why would I be afraid of something I don’t believe in?”

“We’ll fix that.”

“I’m sure you’ll try.”

The man gave Dani an all-knowing look. “I think it’s time we get started on our lessons, Dani, don’t you?”

“Lessons?” Dani sat up straighter. “What do you mean, lessons?”

The man smirked and returned to flipping through the pages of his Bible. It took him a minute before he finally came across what he was looking for, and when he did, his smile grew wider. “If we’re going to reform you, darlin’, we’ve got to get some scripture into you.”

“But I don’t need reforming.”

The man rolled his eyes. “That’s what they all say.” Tapping his fingers against the leather cover, he said, “This lesson is simple. I’m going to read you a verse, and you’re going to say it back to me.” He said, trailing his fingers down the page he’d flipped to.

“What happens if I don’t?”

The man studied the page of the book for a moment before closing it and tossing it back onto his chair. “Then I’ll have to punish you.” He dug his hand into the pocket of his corduroy jacket before producing a small, thick strip of leather. The man began to wrap the leather around his hand, leaving a good portion of it left dangling. “Remember this?” The man asked, watching himself wrap more and more of the leather around his hand. “Now, if you do what you’re supposed to do, you won’t have to learn what this does. But if you don’t—” The man paused. “Well, pain is a great motivator for learning.”

Dani swallowed, but couldn’t squash the anger that began to flare.

“Let’s begin.” The man approached her, switch in hand. Before Dani could move, he was on her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her arm up above her head with a bruising grip. He stood above her, angling her wrist towards him. He rested the leather against her wrist. “Psalm 7, verses 14 through 16. Repeat after me: Behold, the wicked brings forth iniquity, and hath conceived mischief, and brought forth falsehood.”

“What?”

The switch came down on her wrist, hard. Dani couldn’t help but yelp at the sharp sting it left behind. “Try again; repeat after me.” He repeated the verse, and she clumsily followed. “Good. Now, He made a pit, and dug it, and has fallen into the ditch he has made.”

“He…He made a pit, and, and dug it, and has fallen into the ditch he has made.”

“Very good! His mischief shall return upon his own head, and his violent dealing shall come down upon his own crown.”

“His mischief shall… shit, uh, shall return upon his…own head, and his violent dealings shall come down onto his own…” She hesitated, and when she did, the switch came back down onto her wrist. “Fuck! What the hell was that for? I said the verse!”

“‘Shit’ isn’t a part of that verse. Try again.”

Dani glared at him. “His mischief shall return onto his own head, and his violent dealings shall come down onto his own crown.” She spat out.

“Good. Now, repeat that all back to me.”

Dani blinked. “What?”

“The whole passage. Repeat it back to me.”

She sat there in silence. He rewarded that with another smack onto the wrist.

“You heard me. Repeat it back to me.”

“I… I don’t know the rest of it.”

“Sure you do! We just went through the entire thing together. So, repeat the passage back to me. Or I’ll just keep doing this,” he said, giving her wrist a pointed smack with the switch.

Dani jumped, swallowing. “The wicked bring forth… something, with mischief and… something, he made a pit and he dug it, and his mischief shall come down onto his own crown.”

Smack.

“Fuck, I told you I didn’t know it!”

“Behold, the wicked brings forth iniquity, and hath conceived mischief, and brought forth falsehood. He made a pit, and dug it, and has fallen into the ditch he has made. His mischief shall return upon his own head, and his violent dealing shall come down upon his own crown. Repeat it.”

Dani stared down at her wrist, tears filling her eyes and threatening to spill over. “The wicked bring forth iniquity, conceived mischief and falsehood. He made a pit and dug it. His mischief will come down onto his own head and… fuck, so will his violent dealings.”

“Close, but no.” Smack.

The skin on Dani’s wrist had turned a deep red, hot and pulsating, threatening to swell into welts.

“Behold, the wicked brings forth iniquity, and hath conceived mischief, and brought forth falsehood. He made a pit, and dug it, and has fallen into the ditch he has made. His mischief shall return upon his own head, and his violent dealing shall come down upon his own crown. Try again.”

“Behold the wicked bring forth iniquity, they conceive falsehood and bring mischief. He has dug a pit and fell into it. His mischief shall come down onto his own head, and… shit.”

Whack. The switch once again came down onto her wrist.

Her guesses were getting worse. She knew they were. It was so hard to think between the pain and the anticipation of it. What would happen if she couldn’t get it right? Dani sucked in a shaky breath and prepared herself for him to repeat himself.

“Behold, the wicked brings—”

“Behold, the wicked brings…”

“—forth iniquity, and hath conceived mischief—”

“And hath conceived mischief…”

The man hit her wrist, eliciting a gasp. “That’s not how this exercise works, darlin’. You repeat it back to me once I finish what I’ve got to say.”

Dani tried to pull away from his hands, using her other hand to pull his fingers off her wrist. As she did, the man put the switch down, grabbed her other wrist, and wrapped his free hand around both of her wrists. He yanked her wrists forward, pulling her onto her knees in front of him. “I’m gonna need you to cooperate, darlin’, or this is gonna get a hell of a lot worse for you.”

“You’re asking me to do the impossible.”

“Impossible? It’s impossible for you to memorize a few lines and repeat them back to me? Come on, now, you’re a smart girl. You can do this.”

Dani once again tried to twist her wrists away from him. The man dug his fingernails into the soft skin of her wrists, and she winced. “I can’t memorize something by hearing it once or twice and then being hit when I get it wrong! No one can fucking do that!”

He smiled at her, all charm. “You’d be surprised.” Smack.

“Behold, the wicked brings forth iniquity, and hath conceived mischief, and brought forth falsehood. He made a pit, and dug it, and has fallen into the ditch he has made. His mischief shall return upon his own head, and his violent dealing shall come down upon his own crown. Repeat it.”

“I don’t know.”

Smack.

“Behold, the wicked brings forth iniquity, and hath conceived mischief, and brought forth falsehood. He made a pit, and dug it, and has fallen into the ditch he has made. His mischief shall return upon his own head, and his violent dealing shall come down upon his own crown. Repeat it.”

“I don’t know!”

Another smack.

“Try again.”

Smack. Smack. Smack. Over and over again, Dani repeated the passage wrong, in one way or another. Tears that had welled up in her eyes started to spill over, running down her face as he repeatedly hit the same spot on her wrist. This had to be hell, right? To be subjected to the same pain over and over again and expected to be the one to stop something you can’t stop?

He looked down at her, an evil glean in his eye, as she knelt in front of him. Her face came up just above his hips, her head craning back to look up at his face. As uncompromising as he was being, it was clear that he was enjoying every second. “Ready to try again?” He asked, smirking.

“Fuck you,” Dani said, voice cracking.

Smack.

He repeated the verse. She got it wrong. He repeated it again, and again she got it wrong. Dani resolved into tearful babbling instead of coherent attempts. Her wrist was already beginning to bruise, the skin starting to break open. She wondered if he’d eventually cut her off once she was too far gone to continue.

“Behold, the wicked brings forth iniquity, and hath conceived mischief, and brought forth falsehood. He made a pit, and dug it, and has fallen into the ditch he has made. His mischief shall return upon his own head, and his violent dealing shall come down upon his own crown.”

“Behold, the wicked brings forth iniquity, hath conceived mischief, and brought forth falsehood. He made a pit, dug it, and has fallen into the pit he’s made. His mischief shall return onto his own head, and his violent dealing shall come down onto his own crown!” Dani flinched in anticipation of another smack. It didn’t come. She looked at her wrists, and then she looked up at him. He smiled softly back at her. “Did I do it? Did I get it right?”

“You did.”

Relief flooded Dani. “So, it’s over?”

“For now, yes.” The man began to wrap the leather switch back up and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “We’ll start again tomorrow, but I think you’ve done enough for now.” He paused. “Unless, of course, you’d rather get tomorrow’s lesson out of the way tonight.”

“No! No. I’m alright. Today was enough. No, thank you.”

The man hummed. “Suit yourself.”

Letting go of Dani’s wrists, the man turned away from her and made his way back to his chair, picking his book back up and dropping into his chair with a groan. Dani watched as he settled in and flipped through the book. “What are you doing?” She asked when she realized he wasn’t going anywhere.

The man dramatically flipped to another page. “I’ve got about an hour to kill before supper. What do you have going on?”

Dani glared as he flipped to another page.

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @generic-whumperz, @heartinthehospital, @deluxewhump, @another-whump-sideblog, @pigeonwhumps, @lektricwhump, @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

[angelphone1]

CHAPTER ONE - THE KICK

hiii this is my first time posting my own writing and to be completely honest i'm absolutely terrified! this is my first time trying to figure out a whole project like this and so i am being so hecking brave about it. i'm not sure how much of this counts as whump, but i can promise that there's a loooot more to come :)

if you want to know anything more about the characters or anything then just ask i'd love to talk about them!

there will never be any explicit nsfw in this series, but there is suggestion. it's always a read-at-your-own-risk sort of deal, and there'll be a list of the content at the front of each chapter letting you know if you need to avoid it! i'll try my best not to miss anything

CONTENT: manhandling, violating physical boundaries (not sexual), weird touchiness, dubcon kissing, forced to drink (alcohol)/forced to relapse, (brief) emeto, carewhumper, the mc is a depressed wet cat, lady whump, toxic relationship

------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, you doing okay?" ASTRID asks.

ESMERALDA stares down at her mocktail, watching the ice float around. It's melting. It's already too watered-down to really enjoy; or maybe that's just the nature of the thing. There's no kick. There's no burn. It's just.. juice. ESMER brushes a lock of hair out of her eye.

"Yeah," ESMER says, or maybe lies. She isn't quite sure how true it is. She stirs her drink with the straw. "Yeah, I'm fine."

ASTRID raises her eyebrows, then looks up from her table around the room. ESMER notices the way her gaze lingers on some other girl, with dyed blue-white hair, dressed in a letterman jacket she must have created herself. ESMER can't help but feel a little jealous, as she stares into her melting drink. How come you never look at me like that? She wants to ask. She doesn't.

"Well, you know, I thought this would be, like, fun, but it doesn't look like you're.. having fun."

"I'm fine," ESMER repeats. "Just.. recharging. It's nice. Thank you for bringing me." The words are awkward and stilted. There's a silence. ESMER stirs her drink. ASTRID nods.

"Well, you're welcome. But you shouldn't just.. watch the whole time, you know? You gotta.. put yourself out there."

Put yourself out there is one of ASTRID's favorite phrases. It must be, from how often she says it to ESMER. ESMER might recommend that ASTRID put herself in there, but she doesn't say anything. That doesn't even make sense. ESMER frowns, and brushes a lock of hair out of her eye.

ASTRID excuses herself to "get another drink", but she will not be returning to ESMER's table. She will be putting herself out there, probably talking to that girl, in some sort of illusion that she is prepared for such a relationship, and then they will talk and talk and get on well together, because ASTRID is good at that sort of thing, and then the other girl will lean in for a kiss or say something suggestive, and then ASTRID will get uncomfortable and push away and then they will stop talking, and things will end faster than they ever began, because ASTRID is bad at this sort of thing.

It happens every time. The difference is that ESMER sticked around, for whatever reason. ASTRID is her best friend, but they are too far apart. They are too distant. Her family is nice, but they are even more distant.

ESMER should have stayed home, alone, in her lonely apartment. At least then it wouldn't be so loud. There are too many people here. Who the hell is visiting a non-alcoholic bar on a Friday night? These people, apparently. Well, maybe that's just what people do on Friday nights, but isn't there something they'd rather be doing? Sleeping? Drinking something worth drinking? These places are the worst. If they want to be a bar, they should serve real drinks, and if they don't want to serve real drinks, then what's the fucking point of serving drinks at all?

Sort of sad and angry in a very lonely way, ESMER stands up and abandons her awful drink, and grimaces as she has to walk by so many people. Some of them look at her. Most of them barely glance at her. Thankfully, the bathroom is vacant; at least this place has the good sense to use single rooms.

There is nothing drawn on the tiles. The lights in here are too bright. It makes ESMER want to peel her skin off. She doesn't even really need to use the bathroom, she just.. wants to be alone. She wants to be somewhere else.

It all makes her heart sick. Just sick. She can only imagine who ASTRID is currently with, and then somehow, somehow ESMER is expected to go with her back home, to her lonely apartment, or maybe spending the night at ASTRID's, and then she will have to wake up in the morning alone and walk to work at the cafe alone and go through another twelve-hour shift alone and then walk home alone and then do it again and again and again for the rest of her life.

She loosens her grip on the sink, her knuckles aching, trying not to look at the mirror, brushing a lock of hair out of her eye.

ESMER opens the door, rubbing her eyes, only to be met with an unfortunately familiar face.

"Hey, baby," HEATHER says, slipping inside the bathroom.

ESMER stares at her with wide, wide eyes. "What — the hell are you doing here?"

HEATHER is wearing a sleeveless outfit of black leather, her curly blonde hair tumbling around her shoulders, her massive green eyes boring into ESMER's own. Her mascara is too thick. Her lipstick is jet black. She really looks at ESMER, and then she smiles.

It goes like this:

HEATHER locks the door.

HEATHER takes a step forward.

ESMER takes a step backward.

HEATHER takes another step forward.

ESMER's back hits the wall.

HEATHER presses herself up against ESMER, smiling in a way that makes ESMER's heart ache, even as it attempts to pound out of her chest. HEATHER should not be here. HEATHER was two years ago. HEATHER should not be here.

HEATHER places both of her hands against ESMER's face, wiping away a stray tear. Her breath smells like smoke and strawberry soda.

ESMER finally regains control of her senses, and pushes HEATHER back, still trying to walk further backwards into the wall, like if she tries hard enough it will envelop her and she will not have to be here anymore.

ESMER: "What the hell?"

HEATHER: "Glad to see me again?"

ESMER stutters. Yes. No. Of course. Absolutely not. Fuck no. Fuck yes. She is suddenly, awkwardly aware of her tongue in her mouth and its current failure to cooperate.

HEATHER smiles. She is very pretty. It is hard to look away.

ESMER eyes the door.

HEATHER: "Don't be like that, baby."

ESMER: "Are you fucking drunk?"

HEATHER laughs. "Oh my God. You look so freaked out right now. Oh my God, you're like a little deer in headlights. Just as cute, too."

ESMER isn't sure what to do. Or say. She wants to scream for help. She wants to kiss HEATHER and beg at her feet. She wants to jump off the edge of a cliff. She wants to take a knife and hack away at something. At her stupid heart, maybe, feeling like it's about to explode and take everything in this building with it, feeling like its beating is instead a timer, or a blaring alarm, telling everyone around to get the fuck away right now.

HEATHER steps forward again.

ESMER lets her.

HEATHER, like she's comforting a small child: "Hey." She places her hands on ESMER's hips, pulling her forward into a warm hug.

ESMER clings to her, recognizing that she needs this, just as much as recognizing that she needs to start screaming and running away right now.

HEATHER kisses her on the cheek. (ASTRID has never kissed her. Not even once. Not even on the forehead.) HEATHER looks at her and smiles. (ASTRID has never looked at her the way she looked at the girl with the blue-white hair.) HEATHER brushes away her tears again. (ASTRID has never even gotten close.)

HEATHER pulls away, grabbing something from on top of the open baby-changing apparatus. (ESMER wonders, why the hell is there a baby-changing station in a bar?) It is a clear bottle with something pink inside. She holds it out to ESMER.

HEATHER, smiling: "Look what I brought."

ESMER looks at it. It's alcohol. Of course.

ESMER: "I'm.. not supposed to drink that. I mean — I'm not fucking drinking that." That's better. She should take more initiative. She's not a deer in headlights. She is a grown woman who is currently saying no.

HEATHER: "Awhh, but I brought it just for you. Strawberry lemonade. Your favorite."

ESMER: "Just — why are you even here? I —"

ESMER attempts to get to the door.

HEATHER keeps her from doing so, still holding the bottle out.

ESMER does not take it.

HEATHER marches forward, pressing ESMER back against the wall.

ESMER pushes back.

HEATHER shoves her arms out of the way, getting uncomfortably close.

ESMER opens her mouth to start screaming.

HEATHER shoves the open bottle into ESMER's mouth, pouring the liquid inside. It is sweet and awful and it burns as it goes down. After a few gulps, ESMER gets her senses together and shoves the bottle away, grabbing it for herself, breathing heavily.

HEATHER steps back. She smiles.

ESMER looks down at the beer in her hand. She should throw it away. She should run away. She doesn't want to go back to the way it was. Doesn't she? She needs to get to ASTRID. ASTRID will help. ASTRID will fix this. ASTRID will protect her from HEATHER, like she once did. ASTRID will..

ESMER takes another sip. Her hands are shaking so badly it takes a couple tries to actually get the bottle into her mouth. Just one more. And then another. And then all the liquid in the bottle is gone. ESMER drops it. It clicks, but doesn't shatter. It should have shattered. That would be more thematically resonant.

HEATHER puts her hands on ESMER's hips.

HEATHER: "See? Doesn't that feel nice? Better than that shit that's basically just water, right?"

ESMER: "HEATHER, do you have any fucking — "

HEATHER: "Shut the fuck up."

HEATHER leans in to kiss ESMER.

ESMER lets her.

ESMER kisses back.

HEATHER: "See, baby? This is how things were meant to be. Me and you. Not you and that.. trust-fund yuppie bitch."

ESMER: "ASTRID's not —"

HEATHER: "That's the problem with you, baby. You never learned how to shut up."

ESMER shuts up.

HEATHER laughs. She pulls away, turns, opens the door slowly.

HEATHER: "Wasn't that fun, baby? Aren't you bored?" She smiles. "You know where I live. Come around sometime."

HEATHER leaves without another word.

ESMER sinks down to the floor, beginning to sob. Numbly, she brushes a lock of hair out of her eye.. What is ASTRID going to say about this? She's angry at herself for letting that happen, and angry at HEATHER for being such a jackass, and angry at ASTRID because all ESMER ever seems to think about is disappointing her.

Slowly, she crawls to the toilet, and sticks her fingers down her throat to vomit everything back up. She hasn't eaten in a while, but she doesn't want to deal with ASTRID finding her drunk, when she's supposed to never drink again. It burns just as badly coming up as it did going in. ESMER composes herself, rubs her eyes, trying not to look in the mirror in how badly she ruined her makeup. She'll make up some excuse for crying that isn't technically wrong, like she was just feeling very lonely and fragile, and then ASTRID will apologize and still won't kiss her, and ESMER will continue being alone.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

No More No

CW: Dehumanizing language, medical abuse, medical whump, Facility whump, defiant whumpee, sadistic whumper, Some references to noncon

Nova’s pieces can be found in this masterlist

For @amonthofwhump, day 9: Medical abuse

-

"Here we go, little lady, time for round two. Just be a good girl and lay back for me, okay?"

"No! I don't want it, no, you can't make me, not again, not again, no!"

"Hey, now. You're not supposed to know that word-"

"No, no, not the needle, no no no-"

Her voice cut off when the asshole's hand smacked into her forehead, forcing her writhing body back against the padded bench. Some fucking doctor, she thought, kicking out and nearly succeeding before he ducked, the sides of his white coat flapping under the cold florescent lights. She felt her big toe just graze his brown hair and bared her teeth in a snarling hostile grin, her own thick, long black hair hanging in her face like a demon ready to drag him to the depths.

"What the fuck, did she not finish her first round?"

"No," The trainee's handler said, frowning more in confusion than anger. "She did. She was fine, coming along nicely, until she just lost her shit yesterday. She mentioned a cousin."

"They don't have cousins."

"Yeah, hence me signing her up for another round. Come on, Ninety-Seven, you know better than this. You've been my sweet soft girl for two weeks, what happened, huh?"

"Maybe I just got sick of eating you out-"

"Ninety-Seven! I can handle some rebellions, but crude language is subject to severe consequences for you!" Her primary handler grabbed her right wrist with gloved hands. She made quick work of jamming it up above her head and locking it into the restraints, the magnets catching with a strength 445097 couldn't fight, not at this angle. 

She yanked at her wrist anyway, just to hear the little chain rattle, and tried to throw a punch. "I'll use whatever fucking crude shitty language I want!"

Handler Abernathy pulled just out of reach, some wispy brown hair escaping her severe bun to frame her face. It made the trainer pause at the unexpected softness it gave to her handler's usual severity. 

"I don't want the needle," She said, plaintive now, trying for the soft puppy voice, I'll be good now sound that everyone seemed to like from her. She couldn’t make tears well up, but she could put the tremble of them into words. "Please… please, Handler, no."

Handler Abernathy softened, just a little. “Ninety-Seven-”

"Too bad." The stupid doctor grabbed at her other wrist and this time her heel caught his chin, sending him stumbling backwards, knocking over the tray of syringes and pale, faintly colored liquids lined up there. "Jesus Christ! That bitch-"

"Back off, Bill, let me get her handled," Handler Abernathy said, voice thin with effort as she managed to evade 444097's flailing legs and get her other wrist secured. "She does better for me anyway.  Don't you, babygirl?"

"Please, please, not the needle, I can train without it, I can learn-"

"Hey. Hey, sweetie." Abernathy's glove was cool where the leather touched her cheek. The trainee raised her chin and opened her mouth for the kiss, Abernathy's lips picking up the trainee's expertly applied lipstick. She lowered her eyelashes, heavy with mascara. Her breath came in pants that raised her chest up and down, just brushing the front of Abernathy's black WRU handler uniform. 

The oversized t-shirt meant she couldn't use it entirely to her advantage, but she tried. Sometimes a show of being overcome would soothe the handlers, calm them, get her what she wanted or just out of trouble. 

"There we go." Handler Abernathy dropped to a whisper, lips moving against the trainee's cheek. "You'll be good for Dr. Bill, right? It's just a little prick."

"Not that little," Dr. Bill said, a little affronted. 

"I meant the needle, dumbass." Abernathy groaned, closing her eyes in brief annoyance. "Just get it going, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah. She knocked all of it over, give me a second." Bill rifled through a cabinet in the small exam room while Abernathy turned back to the trainee and smiled. 

"Here we go, sweetie. Just give me that pretty little ankle… here we go…" The trainee swallowed, watching as Abernathy moved her foot into the stirrup and buckled her ankle in place, then did the same with her other leg. "There's my good girl. There she is. Much better, right?"

"Handler… I-I don't want the needle, please, I promise I don't remember anything, it was a mistake…" She jerked her left ankle but all it did was rattle in place. She tried to tear up, next, but she couldn't seem to make the tears come, no matter how her voice trembled. "I don't need it, I don't…"

"Ninety-Seven." Abernathy shook her head, tucking those stray little hairs the trainee had thought so pretty back behind one ear. "We all know you're lying right now. It's what your kind does. You start acting up with aberrant memories, we have to wipe them away again."

The trainee's eyebrows furrowed. "Handler." Her voice was a whimper, a whine. "Please, Handler, no…"

"There's that word again." Abernathy sighed, disappointed. "Bill, get her hooked up. Don't worry, babygirl. Just a couple of days should do it. Then… no more cousin, no more bad girl behavior, and no more no, huh?"

"Fuck you." She dropped the sad eyes and spat, watching with a thin thread of satisfaction as Handler Abernathy wiped the saliva from her cheek. 

The doctor snorted. "Better for you, huh? Doesn't seem like it."

"Oh, shut up."

There was nothing she could do - the trainee could only shake in the restraints as Bill came over, humming cheerfully with an IV bag on a roller full of a cloudy liquid. The trainee's eyes latched onto the sight of it as her heart started to race. 

"No, no please, please please please my name is my number I'm a pet not a person, I know, I know, I signed up for this all pets legally consent to giving up their former failed identities in exchange for a safe secure home and future I know what you want me to think, I know!"

"I know you do, baby, I know." Abernathy smiled, taking her chin in hand and turning her to look into her handler's sparkling eyes, drinking in her fear and helplessness as Bill wiped something cold and tingling along the crook of her elbow. "But, listen to me, honey. Listen. Say 'yes, Miss, I'm listening."

Now, the tears came. 

The trainee's lower lip trembled as she swallowed and then said, in a whisper, "I'm l-listening, M-Miss…"

"Good girl. I know you know all the right things to think, to say. But…"

The pinch of the needle made her flinch, and Abernathy leaned forward to kiss her. Her handler's lips were soft but pressed hard, swallowing her whimper as the needle was placed and the first rush of cold fluid raced through her blood toward her pounding heart. 

"We need to make sure," Handler Abernathy murmured, pressing one more quick kiss before pulling back, "that you don't remember any of the wrong things to think and say, either."

"Please… p-please, no, please don't make me do this again!"

Handler Abernathy turned and left the exam room, her boots clomping loudly across the floor. The tears came, now, and the trainee could barely see through them and her hair as the doctor grinned at her, staying behind to watch, for just a moment, as the trainee's muscles felt heavier by the second.

Once she slumped backwards, the doctor stepped up close. 

"Be a good girl and just chill here for a while, okay?" He patted the side of her face. Each soft touch felt like a blow. 

"Don't… don't leave me al, alone, please-"

"I'll come back once that perfect pretty head is so empty you can hear the wind blow right through it." He gave her hip a squeeze, then patted her thigh like the flank of a horse before he turned and walked out, too.

The door buzzed locked behind him.

Her eyes were already drifting closed, the Drip taking its terrible hold. The small sweet face she had been holding in her mind, of a cousin she had known, whoever she had been, was already fading. 

"Don't-... D-Don't leave me al, alone…"

There was no one left to listen.

-

@eatyourdamnpears @sableflynn @orchidscript @whump-tr0pes @burtlederp @arlinthesnep @finder-of-rings @hackles-up