#my whump stories

[whump-is-love-whump-is-life]

The internet whenever I come up with a fun whump method:

[whumpsoda]

I. I love vampire hunters turned thralls. Brainwashed into adoring little pets to creatures of which they once chased down with the goal of killing… UGH just someone who used to hate the thing they now address as master… bonus points if they get their memories erased and have no memory of their hunter past :3

[wolvietxt]

⋆𐙚₊˚ grumpy x sunshine prompts!

holding hands: grumpy always insists they’re not the hand-holding type, but sunshine slips their hand into grumpy’s anyway, and despite the grumbling, grumpy’s grip never lets go.

sick day: grumpy catches a cold and insists they're fine, but sunshine shows up with a blanket, soup, and a movie to keep them company, ignoring all of grumpy's protests and making sure they're well cared for.

late-night talk: grumpy can’t sleep and finds sunshine sitting on the porch. instead of going back inside, grumpy sits down too, reluctantly opening up as sunshine listens, not saying much but offering quiet comfort just by being there.

rain-soaked rescue: sunshine gets caught in a downpour, soaked through and shivering, and grumpy rushes out with an umbrella, grumbling about how sunshine should take better care of themselves while wrapping them in a warm jacket.

grumpy’s soft side: sunshine accidentally finds grumpy’s secret stash of cute little things they’ve kept as mementos - like a doodle sunshine made or a pressed flower from a walk they took together. grumpy tries to act embarrassed, but sunshine can see the fondness in their eyes.

[dontbelasagnax]

@codywanfirstkissbingo: kiss of life

It shouldn't be like this. He had plans. Dreams.

He'd thought of a gentle kiss shared one late night when the hum of companionship and longing looks spilled over. Lips tasting of herbal tea and ration bars.

Or, hidden away in a dark corner of Coruscant on a rare shore leave, they'd find comfort in giving into what they've both wanted for so long. Hands tangled in hair, remnants of their meal licked from blisteringly hot mouths, not a care in the world.

Perhaps they'd wait till after the war. Reach for one another amidst cheers and find joy and relief in their embrace and long awaited kiss.

Instead, he presses his lips to Obi-Wan's for the first time and does his best to breathe life into unresponsive lips and lungs. He can't ignore the acrid taste of blood and ash. There's nothing but terror and heartache lancing his chest.

'Not like this', he thinks, a hot tear running down his cheek. 'Please, stay with me.'

(bingo card under the cut)

[automeris-io-moth]

Reunion

That morning Hero felt particularly tired. 

Perhaps Villain had noticed early when greeting them at breakfast, such was the reason the servants were fetched to help them shower, help them dress and eat, fed by hand as if not humiliated enough by then, trapped by the fact they were indeed unable to lift the cutlery. 

Perhaps it had been Villain’s doing. Perhaps it had been the tea, perhaps it had been something else. 

Later, Hero was taken to the main hall of the former gubernatorial palace right in the heart of the city, where a wood and gold throne laid. Hero had once, long ago, made a joke about Villain compensating for something with such a cartoonish display of power, but then they had no energy to obnoxiously repeat it, as they did every time they entered the place. Mockery was one of the few things Hero had left after all. 

Yet, that day they could barely keep their head upright, a foggy sense of nausea crepting up their throat, a heavy weight pushing them down from the top of their head kept them glued to Villain that morning, head laying on the other's shoulder as Hero laid across their lap, their enemy's hands stroked up and down their arms and back, warming them from the coldness of the room. 

"Let them in," Villain's voice boomed across the hall, the echo remaining a second longer. 

The old wooden doors creaked open, uneven steps entering the room, as if being rushed, and Hero hid their head from the sharp noise. 

"What do you think I should do, love?” Villain asked the Hero this time, pressing their lips against their hair  “Four intruders wandering around, trying to enter our home to steal god knows what.�� 

And Hero tried, tried to twist their head to look at the people standing before them, distinguishing them on their knees, half aware of the number mentioned, half aware of their factions, of what they wore. 

Half aware that they knew them. 

“I told you, Leader,” one said, a whisper too sharp to fulfil its purpose of being discreet “they sold us out.” 

“Shut up, Teammate, what about that?” The called answered, face straightening and, for a moment, Hero could swear they made eye contact “What are you looking to prove with this display, Villain?” 

Villain huffed a laugh, turning Hero’s head back to them  “Come on Leader, do you really think I put this show just for you?” 

They had, Hero thought, Villain usually preferred if they weren’t seen. Just for their eyes, they had once said, when they were, as that day, too out of their mind to talk back. 

“What did you do to them?” 

“I would never hurt them, if that’s what you’re thinking,” they answered, hands pulling them ever so close to their chest, curling if only lightly to embrace them “I’m not like you.” 

“We never…” 

“Yes you have,” they answered “I’ve seen every scar in their body, and I’m responsible for only one. Don’t lie to my face please.” 

“They knew what they were doing! It was for the greater good,” Teammate answered this time, sweat dripping from their forehead to the blood, taking the dirt with it. 

“Such a funny concept is the greater good. I can assure you it holds no meaning to me, there is nothing greater than keeping what's mine close and unblemished, and you have scarred it, sadly.”

With a hand on their hip, and the other on their neck, Villain twisted Hero’s head slightly to the right, where their team knelt, eyes glazed, barely open enough to discern their shadows, they could see one turn away from their unintentional stare. 

“So what would a fitting punishment be,” they asked in the air, looking down at Hero “I accept suggestions, my light.”

_

Masterlist

[paingoes]

character who always has to wear a tie around his neck so there is always something available to restrain him with :)

[kikker-oma]

A late birthday present for @telemna-hyelle !!

You're a lovely writer and I've been meaning to draw something for you for ages🥰 this story was so so sweet and soothed my soul❤️

[chaotic-orphan]

Hero villain drabble

Suicidal hero my beloved <3

“This is the part where you beg,” Villain said with a wicked grin on their face.

Hero’s head fell forward, their eyes closed. “Just do it,” they whispered, tears streaming down their face. “Please. Please.”

Hero grabbed Villain’s wrist with the knife in it and brought it closer to their throat until it drew blood. “Please, please, please.”

Villain frowned, a million emotions passing across their stormy eyes. They wanted Hero to beg for their life. They didn’t expect the great Hero to beg for death. Villain pulled away. Without them supporting Hero’s weight, Hero slid down the brickwork, drawing their knees into their chest.

Villain pulled out their phone. “I’ll call an ambulance,” they muttered, but as soon as they said that wild, frightened eyes widened, grabbing their attention.

“No, please! Please. If you don’t kill me they will, please! Please!” Hero wailed, scrambling over and grabbing Villain’s leg, pulling at the fabric. “Please! You— you said if I begged, you would— you’d—”

Villain stared as their nemesis dissolved into sobs, unaware of how to comfort someone that was begging to be killed by your hand. In a split second, Villain made a snap decision, pocketing their phone.

They crouched and grabbed Hero by the hair, yanking them off of Villain. Hero hissed out in pain but didn’t fight. They didn’t struggle.

“I will kill you, Hero,” Villain said, and the relief that flooded Hero was disconcerting. “But not here. I want it to be public. Planned. I want to make sure everyone knows who destroyed the great Hero.”

Hero started trembling in Villain’s grasp. Good. It was working. Villain grabbed Hero’s chin and yanked them close. “So you’re coming with me.”

Hero’s wet eyes widened to the size of saucers as Villain scooped them up and carried them to Villain’s car. “Are you going to behave or do I need to throw you in the boot?”

Hero sniffed, snuggling into Villain’s chest. “I’ll be-behave.”

Villain put them in the backseat. Hero curled up into a ball, facing the fabric of the seat and even from the window Villain could see them sobbing again. They walked around to the boot and called Butler.

“Master Villain.”

“Hello, Butler. I need another room made up for tonight, we will be having a guest stay with us for a while.”

“Of course. How long?”

Villain looked back at the defeated Hero in their backseat. “Until they get back on their feet.”

“Unusually magnanimous of you, Master.”

“Yes,” Villain agreed, disconcerted. “It is.”

“I will have everything prepared before you arrive.”

“Thank you, Butler.”

Villain walked to the driver’s seat, their mind racing at a million miles an hour. They couldn’t kill Hero like this, it was pathetic. As if they just rescued a puppy to abuse it. No, Villain had a thing for strays, so when Hero was ready to tell Villain who abused them, well, they’d better prepare for a whole world of hurt.

[whumper-whimsy]

god i love multiple whumpee situations where one whumpee is completely "trained" and eager and the second one HATES Whumper with all their heart

[whumperofworlds]

Whumptober 2024 Day 1: Search

Now on AO3!

Tags: @gala1981 @whumptober-archive @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @rebelxwriter @expressionless-fr

@fourwingedsnake (let me know if you want to be tagged or removed!)

CWS: injury, missing person, near death, blood, rescue, male whumpee, male caretaker, whumpee x caretaker

Fandom: Final Fantasy: Record Keeper

A/N: Heya everyone!!! I know, it's been a while since I wrote anything. But I decided to do Whumptober!!! Anyway, I won't waste time. Here we go!

I only own Drusus, Keme, Veles, and Taika. Everything else belongs to Square Enix.

ENJOY!!!

_____

Search party / panic attack / "if only we could hold on."

"Drusus is not going to like this." Veles sighed as he and the team sans Keme retreated from the ninth realm.

And he was right.

When he learned that his husband was missing, Drusus immediately volunteered to search for him. While the Ice Cavern wasn't a hard dungeon, the freezing air, along with the monsters roaming inside, could potentially mean death to the missing thief if he stayed long enough. So Veles, Taika, Tyro, and Aerith tagged along in the search party just in case things get dicey.

Drusus and the others called out for Keme as they searched, their voices echoing deep in the cavern. Monsters had tried to attack them, but they managed to defeat them with ease. For hours, the team searched. And searched.

Yet, Keme was nowhere to be found.

Drusus grew desperate at this point. He began to bark orders to the others, despite Tyro's protests, telling the others to split up and look. Using his authority as a mercenary leader of his group back home, Drusus was able to guide the team well. He knew that Tyro was a Record Keeper, hence he should lead, but so far his plans didn't come to fruition.

"Veles, Taika, left cavern. Tyro, Aerith, right cavern. I got the middle. Come back here in an hour."

Tyro knew not to argue with someone who was desperate, so he went with Aerith to the cavern Drusus ordered him to go to. Veles and Taika did the same, and Drusus rushed into the middle cavern, searching for the love of his life. His eyes darted back and forth, his ears opened as he searched for anything that could point Keme's whereabouts.

"Keme!" Drusus called, cupping his mouth as he did so. His voice echoed, but he didn't hear a response.

Drusus cursed under his breath, as he continued searching. Last time he was seen, according to Tyro, Keme was with the team down this cavern. They were then ambushed by monsters, and Keme ended up getting separated from them. The team was injured, however, and they had no choice but to flee the scene.

"KEME!" Drusus called again, louder this time. No response still.

"Baby! Please tell me you're okay! If you can hear me, scr—"

He stopped when he stepped on something wet. The smell of iron hit his nose, as he froze for a few seconds. His eyes widened, recognizing the smell. He had known that smell for many years; being a mercenary stopping and even killing criminals and monsters had its cons.

He glanced down, and his eyes grew wider when he saw what he was standing in.

A puddle of blood. Ahead of Drusus were bloodied footprints on the ice, near two large icicles that protruded from the ground.

"Dammit," Drusus gritted his teeth, now knowing that it was Keme's blood. Keme was nearby, he just knew it.

He rushed forward, following the footprints that led him between the icicles. There. Crumbled on the icy ground. There was a figure curled up and covered in blood.

Upon seeing the green clothing, Drusus' breathing hitched as his heart nearly stopped. His eyes grew so wide his eyelids disappeared.

"KEME!" He screamed.

He squeezed himself through the icicles, shivering as the ice touched his skin. He then ran towards his beloved, his heart racing. He gathered his husband in his arms, picking him up. The thief's face was pale, and his skin cold to the touch. Large bloody gashes adorned his chest and abdomen, the gashes so deep, Drusus could see a large amount of blood pouring down.

Drusus' face paled, his breathing hitched as he gently shook Keme's unmoving body. Keme didn't stir.

"Keme?" Drusus whispered. "Keme, wake up. It's me, Drusus."

No response.

"Keme. Keme!" Drusus' whispering turned to shouting, as he shook Keme again.

Keme remained silent and still.

Tears began to fall down the monk's cheeks, as he sobbed. He buried his face in Keme's chest, not caring that his beloved's—his beloved's—blood smeared on his face. He cried, his heart breaking into tiny pieces at the realization.

Keme. His husband. The one he swore to protect. Was dead—

"D-Drussy…?"

Drusus stopped his pathetic crying, as he glanced down at Keme. Keme began to stir, whispering Drusus' pet name over and over. Keme's body shook—whether from the blood loss or the cold, Drusus wasn't sure—as he opened his eyes.

Drusus' eyes widened as he let out a gasp. More tears fell, but this time, they were happy tears.

Keme was alive. Keme was alive! Oh thank Cosmos.

"Keme!" Drusus whispered, hugging his beloved tightly, as if he was afraid of losing Keme if he let go. "Oh thank Cosmos, I-I thought you were…"

"I… knew you'd come," Keme whispered, returning the hug. Although, his hug was weak due to his waning strength.

"Of course I would, love," Drusus sniffled. "I-I was so scared when I found you. Please, don't scare me like that again."

"Hey," Keme chuckled, "I'm okay. I was just chilling while waiting for you."

Drusus couldn't help but snort. Despite nearly dying, Keme kept his goofy personality, much to Drusus' relief.

Kissing Keme on the forehead, Drusus then said, "Come on, let's get you fixed up."

Keme merely nodded, his arms around Drusus' neck as Drusus left the cavern to meet the others. Taika and Aerith immediately began to heal Keme, as Veles and Tyro used Fire spells to warm the thief up. Keme couldn't help but smile at the care he was given. He was so lucky to have a husband and good friends like them.

[basementwhumpworm]

Unaware Whumpee is playing animal crossing long after the whumpening happened. They’re just doing their goals for the day and bonding with their villagers, before one of them says something to Whumpee that just… unlocks everything.

All the pain— All the distress Whumpee was put through flooded back. At first it was shock from somehow repressing that for all of these years. Then it’s grief. Grief over the time lost to the whumpening, the scars Whumpee accumulated physically and mentally.

The thing is, the villager that triggered Whumpees memories is extremely ugly. So the entire time Whumpee is having a mental breakdown, crying or whatever, the villager is just staring at Whumpee like this—

[whumpsoda]

Seeing Me in You - Unboxing

Masterlist

cw: pet whump, box boy universe/bbu adjacent, institutionalized slavery, conditioned/brainwashed whumpee

——————

Ever so anxiously fearful, he had safely arrived to his new home. After so long of training and treatment, he had been prepared to perfection for his purpose. He was going to finally be put to use.

His trip to delivery had proved painful, even if he was used to dealing with common afflictions. Such a tight cage was unfavorable for his hulking frame, and the constant, numerous shakes and bumps of the truck formed noticeable bruises over his skin, and a sour throbbing in his head.

Thankfully, 374629 wasn’t meant to look presentable. Especially not pretty. He knew he wasn’t, having been utterly made sure of it. Not average looking, even, but he was never meant to be. He certainly was not a romantic, nothing anyone would purchase depending on his level of attraction.

Once set to the ground below his master’s doorstep, he made a point not to listen into the muffled conversation mushing together like cotton clouds above him. Reducing it to a buzz in the back of his mind, he kept his brain nice and blank. His belly still whirled in a mixture of terror and excitement to be inches away from his owner, and minutes from finally being introduced to them.

He could clearly hear as the employees transporting him finally left, leaving him alone with his owner. Leaving him to begin his new life.

374629 froze rigid as light began cracking and seeping into his crate, flooding his face with warmth and blinding brightness. On instinct his eyes shut and wound tight, body curling into itself further.

He hoped his master would be a good master. Didn’t everyone? Every master would be good of course, he had to be grateful to have any master at all. He was lucky. Maybe they would be just like his handlers in the facility. He couldn’t help but wish they were. As much as he was in no place to have preferences, he would have liked the familiarity.

But as his master ever so carefully opened his box, revealing more and more of his face, 374629 couldn’t help but on instinct catch a tiny look. And his master was frowning.

It was obvious he was attempting to hide it, lips curling up ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably so. The fake, half smile failed to meet his solemn, moistening eyes that glittered in the light. Not only was he obviously unhappy with his delivery, but his master was crying.

As 374629 turned back away, he could only hope it was his pet’s unsavory predicament that he found so foul.

Covered in his own grime, tears and sweat, boxers shriveled and dirty, his burly figure was contorted every which way inside of his box. His collar wasn’t even a nice leather, rather cheap and itching raw, red marks over his neck.

Maybe his master had never ordered a boxie before. Maybe he didn’t realize his pet would arrive so disheveled.

“S- sorry,” the man sniveled, wiping his eyes with clammy knuckles, “This is just… a lot. More so for you, of course.” 374629 could sense the slightest of a soft smile in his voice, pulsing warmth through his pet’s butterfly-filled belly. 

374629 didn’t know if he was meant to respond. He knew his rules well, repeating one specifically like a mantra in his mind. Do not speak unless spoken to, he told himself, over and over again like the handlers had. But he’d never had someone, let alone a person, apologize to him. Apologize! How could he possibly know what to do?

“Ye- yes, sir.” He squeaked out, meek and shaky. He winced, expecting a quick and burning shock to the throat for his misbehavior - hesitating and stuttering - but, while no longer wearing his training collar, such a punishment never came. 

Eyes peeking open once again, 374629 fixated his vision on the wood paneling of his crate. Pets are never allowed to look their master in the face, he told himself, both reminding him of the rules and silently chastising himself for having the urge to do so a second time. He hoped his owner had noticed his previous mistake of doing so, so that he could receive needed discipline for such unacceptable behavior.

“Hmmm… how about we get you up and out of your box, okay?” His master commanded, although spoken strangely. As if it wasn’t a command, rather a question, but 374629 knew very well that it was. Commands were one thing he was good at knowing. “Unless you feel more comfortable in there, then-,”

Before his master could continue, 374629 swiftly and clumsily stumbled from the confines of his box, plopping to his knees beside it. Again he fixed his gaze somewhere beside his master, this time the concrete floor of the hallway, as much as he wished he could look to the man for approval.

“Oh.” 

The pet tensed. Did he do something wrong? He failed to discern an emotion from his master’s lack thereof, causing his stomach to quease with uneasiness. 

“That’s okay. That’s good, yeah.” The pet could have sighed in relief. “Now, can I ask you a question?”

374629 tensed once again. Another question. He was so terribly confused. Why was his master asking him? Permission, even? It had to be a trick. A test, to see how well he’d been trained, an easy on at that. 

“A master does anything they so desire.” He neatly recited, a smile nearly tugging at his lips. 

He was being such a good boy. Back at training he would have received a quick and concise good by his handler, and the thought of praise, no matter how little and insignificant, could have him practically drooling.

For a moment, his master paused.

“I guess I should’ve expected that.” He whispered, more so to himself than his pet. His tone almost shone disappointment to his words, a realization that could have brought rich bile flooding his pet’s mouth. “I just wanna know, um, what’s your designation?”

He didn’t even need to think to formulate a reply. “WRU, facility 034, Guard Dog 374629.” He recited on the instant, words rolling off his tongue with perfected memorization. His designation was beat to memory, coming completely and entirely natural to him. In the whole interaction, that was one thing he was sure of.

He heard his master swallow, thick with saliva that danced down his throat. “Guard dog?”

“Yes, sir.” He responded, without falter, and utilizing his deep, low chords.

“Me too.”

——————

Masterlist

Taglist- @softvampirewhump @3-2-whump @taterswhump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

[wolvietxt]

⋆𐙚₊˚ angsty prompts!

argument gone wrong: after a heated argument, one character storms out, and the other is left wondering if they’ve said something they can’t take back, afraid they’ve pushed the person away for good

unspoken feelings: one character has been in love with the other for a long time, but they stay silent, watching as the other falls for someone else, never knowing how much it hurts

betrayal: one character finds out the other has been hiding something huge from them - something that shatters the trust they thought they had. now they don’t know if they can forgive them

distance growing: one character notices the other pulling away, becoming distant and cold, but no matter how much they try to bridge the gap, it only seems to push them further apart

self-sacrifice: one character decides to leave, convinced that the other would be better off without them, but doesn’t tell them the real reason why, making the other believe they were abandoned

[vcepsis]

Currently going insane over the phrase "down for the count".

A character who is notorious for not sleeping enough. Maybe they're the team leader who insists everyone else sleeps first. Maybe they always take the night watch after being awake all day. Maybe they simply can't sleep, whatever trauma buried in their brain too loud to silence.

Either way, it's well known they only get maybe a few hours a night if they're lucky, and it's bound to catch up to them.

Soon enough, they're finally forced to slow down - due to an injury, illness, or simply collapsing from exhaustion.

The caretaker watches over them as they make up for what is sure to be an incredible sleep deficit. And eventually, their breathing completely evens out, sleeping deeply for the first time in who knows how long.

"They're completely down for the count."

(Bonus points for the caretaker who is just so relieved that the whumpee is finally, finally sleeping. They've watched the whumpee work themselves into the ground for far too long - they deserve some actual rest.)

[automeris-io-moth]

Short #1

“Oh my,” Civilian heard in the distance, a fog blurring their sight, and the unshakable feeling of exhaustion confusing their head “poor little thing, left for dead.” 

The figure approached, kneeling in the ground beside them, softly grabbing their head with both their hands, guiding it upwards, towards them, stroking their sweaty hair, wet with something sticky, something dark and too agitating to think about at that time and place. 

A weave of nausea quickly catched up, forcing Civilian to react, moving in a quick motion their head to the side, throwing up all over the floor beside them and the stranger handling them with so much care. 

“Oh love, that can’t be good,” the figure continued, pulling them close once again, a handkerchief cleaning the corners of their mouth with light taps “what do you say I take you home? I can make it all better, I bet that you’re feeling quite uncomfortable right now.” 

Civilian nodded absentmindedly, only half processing what they were agreeing to, immediate relief from their pain and turmoil coming right before self preservation. Vampire related incidents were on the rise in the city, it was an open secret. 

The stranger smiled warmly. 

“I’m glad,” they said, twisting the young person in their arms to carry them comfortably to the elegant white car waiting for them, door opened, man waiting beside it “you’re gonna be the perfect example for Hero, he needs to learn how dangerous they are when rejecting their sires help, they must not have even realised they left you there dying.” 

The stranger sighed, getting them inside the car, resting Civilian’s head over their lap, not caring for the blood and grime staining their pants and car seats. 

“Don’t worry, pretty thing, I’ll take care of you until they are capable, even if that takes a couple decades.” 

_

Masterlist

[deluxewhump]

The Bahkauv: Communication

Fantasy whump, previous torture mentioned, nonhuman whumpee, captivity, multiple caretakers (carewhumpers is a fair definition too because of the captivity element), it/he pronouns intermittently, fear and reassurance

Prev

Masterlist

Stephan’s bandaged hand throbbed in time with his heartbeat. To avoid agitating it, he tried to stay still. Just before full dark, they had been joined by another traveler. Francis was curious, as always, and too friendly. Stephan would have preferred they told the man to be on his way, but the hospitality of his companions won out over his caution. A lone traveler was just as likely to be a fugitive and a cutthroat as anything else, especially in these wilds.

The visitor claimed he’d had a river trout for his dinner, but that it had been stolen by a clever fox that was trailing him as he headed southwest. They’d offered him food.

Stephan prodded their campfire with a stick. At least they were headed in opposite directions, he thought irritably. The flames danced higher, illuminating the stranger’s shadowed and scarred face. He was bigger than all of them, including Stephan, with an axe on his belt and greasy hair that looked like it had not been cut in some years.

“Kind of you to give a stranger food,” he commented, chewing a piece of their carefully packed rations. “I’ve come across naught but unfriendly types in these times. Everyone suspects everyone else of something. I suppose it doesn’t help that someone’s just killed the King.”

None of them responded. Even Francis knew better than to engage an armed stranger in talk of politics. Half the people in these northwestern hinterlands called the old King the usurper, and the other half accused the new King of the same.

“Happy to help a fellow traveler, if we can,” came Francis’s diplomatic reply. It was belated, and the stranger looked up with a chuckle.

“I suppose you don’t have any antivenom among you, do you?”

“What bit you?” asked Francis immediately. He’d probably ask to see the bite, Stephan thought. Take notes in his field journal like an obsessed scry. Always the scientist, even in moments where it was hardly appropriate.

“Not me.” The stranger nodded toward Stephan’s bandaged hand. “The big redhead. You get bit by an adder collecting firewood? Or was it that creature you’ve got there that you’re pretending is a particularly quiet companion?”

Stephan’s gaze flicked to the bahkauv before he could stop himself. It had heard, alright. And Stephan no longer had any doubts it understood. Until a moment ago, it had done nothing but stare sullenly into the fire, a foot farther back than the rest of them, hunched against the evening chill. Despite the fact that none of them had punished it for biting Stephan that afternoon, it was still afraid of them. Now it was downright terrified, chest rising and falling faster, dark eyes wide.

The stranger on the other side of the fire gave a self satisfied smile and took another bite of salt pork. “I thought so. I was almost certain. That mop of hair hides the ears well enough in the dark, but it’s the eyes.” He pointed two fingers up at his own, glinting with firelight. “Not quite right, are they? I can always tell your kind, leech.”

Francis was looking at their captive with open sympathy on his face. Stephan wished he could elbow him without being noticed. Arthur was steadfast, betraying nothing with his expression.

“Antivenom?” Stephan asked as if he were largely disinterested. His bandaged hand throbbed and ached.

“Yes. You’ll be needing it, come the morning. Or maybe afternoon, it’s hard to say. You’re tall, and strong. Maybe it’ll take a while. But a single drop’ll kill a draft horse. Just takes its time.”

“Are you a hunter?”

“No,” replied the traveler. He nodded his head vaguely north. “But I’ve spent time in the far reaches. I know their kind. They’re rare, but still a nuisance. They look human when they’re not feeding. It’s disarming, I know. I see it too. But one of these things will kill you as soon as look at you, and when it’s on you, it looks like a wild animal. They stalk like mountain lions, move like shadows. It prefers to get a man alone, preferably too far into his cups to defend himself. They call it a bahkauv. Did whoever sold it to you tell you that? That bruise is fresh, or it would’ve healed already. Did you hit it?” he asked Stephan. “For the bite it gave you?”

“I’m afraid we’re all exhausted,” Arthur said, standing and brushing campfire ash from his pants. “And if what you say is accurate, we need to pack up before first light and make the city as quickly as we can.”

The stranger rose to his feet, surprisingly agile. “I’ve overstayed. I’ll be on my way. I thank you again for the food, and I wish you safe travels.” He stopped to ponder the bahkauv, as if studying the impressive boy-shaped disguise it embodied.

“Take another piece,” Francis insisted, going into his own pack and drawing out more of their rations. “For the road.”

The stranger took it with a grateful nod and untethered his horse, leading it cautiously into the darkness.

“Stephan,” Arthur said when their visitor was out of earshot. “How is your hand feeling?”

“It’s a bite. It hurts. But not unusually so.”

Was his heart beating faster than it ought to, or was he just alarmed by the idea of venom leaking steadily into his blood?

“The city is more than a morning’s ride,” Francis said. “I doubt any little hamlet we might cross before then will have anything to aid a rare, foreign venom, either.”

“If that man was even telling the truth,” Stephan pointed out, partly to calm his own nerves. “We shouldn’t have mentioned our route. What if he was a scout for some thieves? Or hunters?”

“We’re too far from the main road for that,” Francis reasoned. “That’s just paranoia.”

Arthur was resolute. “We need to leave now.”

“It’s pitch dark.”

“The trail is good enough to follow in the dark. We don’t have much choice. If—“

“No.”

Stephan turned at the same time as his companions like they were all drawn by the same puppet string. The fire crackled. Insects hummed in the trees and on the thick forest floor, and all else was silent. Their captive had spoken. It was looking up at them with wide eyes, its left jaw and cheek dark with a bruise from Stephan’s fist.

Francis climbed to his feet and went closer, crouching to a non-threatening kneel a few feet away from it. “What did you say?”

They’d all heard it. No, it had said, clear as a ringing bell. What Francis meant was— did you really just speak?

It leaned back from Francis like it wanted nothing more than to bolt to the trees. In the firelight, Stephan could see its hands were shaking.

“It’s alright,” Francis urged. “Will you say it again for us? We were arguing, we didn’t hear.”

“No,” it repeated, softer. “You don’t have to leave.”

“Its got a fucking northern accent,” Arthur muttered, barely audible.

Francis was the first to recover from this new revelation. “If Stephan is going to get sick, we need to seek help. That help is far away, in the city.”

The bahkauv shook its head. “He’s not.”

“He’s not going to get sick?”

The bahkauv looked from Francis up to Stephan as if it were on trial. “No.”

“How do you know?” Stephan asked.

“Because…” its eyes shifted among them again, trying to read the situation, like one of them might suddenly decide to hurt it. “Because I didn’t use those teeth.”

Stephan raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t use teeth that have… venom?”

The bahkauv nodded cautiously. “Just these.” It lifted its upper lip to show a row of unremarkable, human-looking white teeth.

“And you have…other teeth?”

The bahkauv took its his hand away from its face, mouth in a somber line now. It didn’t seem to want to answer that. “I didn’t use them,” it said forlornly.

“Are they hidden?” Francis pressed excitedly. “Do they retract, or are they a… a part of that other form you take? Can you use them at will?”

“Francis,” Stephan hissed to shut him up. Though the harsh tone was meant for his friend, the bahkauv flinched.

“Why didn’t you speak before?” Arthur asked. “It would’ve saved us all trouble these past few days.”

“I couldn’t,” it answered apologetically. It tapped its throat.

“You lost your voice,” Francis said. “Screaming?”

“Or burning,” Arthur added darkly.

The bahkauv dropped its gaze to its feet.

“So I’m not going to get sick?” Stephan asked. “No venom, not even on accident? I won’t be angry with you. I won’t hurt you. But I need to know.”

“No,” it whispered without looking up. “I swear it, Sir.”

“I’m not a Knight,” he said, but couldn’t help the gentle tone of his admonition. “I’m no Sir.”

He was not pleased that he only had the warnings of a strange vagabond and the promise of a captive to consider, but the little creature seemed sincere. He’d begun to think of it as such, as a gently pitiable little thing, rather than an threat, even after the bite. It was that disarming face, as the stranger had said.

“Why didn’t you use your venom?” he asked. “If you have it, and it’s so lethal… why not use it in self defense against your captors?”

The bahkauv looked wounded, and more than a little fearful. “You… you’ve been so merciful. I-I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean to bite at all. I’m sorry. Please.”

Stephan held his captive’s gaze, both bright and dark and not quite human, like some sprite sent to trick unsuspecting wanderers into a dark wood. Again he was struck by what seemed like desperate sincerity in the bahkauv. Its voice grew thick with the beginning of tears at the end of its last sentence, and its chin quivered for a moment in such a convincing way. It was either more cunning than the fox that took the stranger’s fish, or it was a sensitive, frightened creature that had just had a very unlucky run with man, who was both its prey and predator.

“Now that I am certain you can understand me, I’ll tell you again. I didn’t mean to hurt you, either. I’m sorry I hit you. I reacted in fear just as you did. I hope there’ll be no more of it between us.”

The bahkauv’s face colored and it turned its delicate head. A few kind words of apology had made it shy, Stephan thought incredulously. After all he’d seen at that hunters camp, the fact that it could communicate not only in basic ways but in sophisticated sentences, and feel something as simple yet profoundly human as shyness made him feel suddenly queasy. How long had the creature begged with words for his tormentors to stop? Did they punish it for speaking, or was begging just so utterly useless it had given up?

“Thank you for telling us,” Francis said. “You’ve saved us a lot of trouble.”

“Now I feel bad putting that muzzle back on him,” Arthur mumbled with an air of disgust. He looked to Francis, and Francis looked to Stephan. Stephan held up his hands, bandaged and unbandaged. “You three work it out.”

“You’re the one he bit,” Francis pointed out. “I didn’t want to muzzle him in the first place, but I conceded for your benefit.”

Stephan sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Just the rope on the ankles is fine with me. I think we’re all sufficiently taken in with this… apology. Maybe we’re fools, maybe not.” He turned to their captive. “Do you have a name? What can we call you?”

It seemed taken aback by the question, and swallowed before giving an answer in that small, clear voice. “Rune.”

“Roon,” Arthur repeated. It sounded different in his Muirish accent. The bahkauv said it with a far-north R, the tongue lower in the mouth, like Hrune. “Do you want us to leave that muzzle off your face for the night?”

“What-whatever you wish. Sir.”

The bahkauv’s answer was intended to be deferential, probably informed by its time spent trying to appease hunters. In effect, it was just hauntingly true. They would do as they wished.

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