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whumpy-wyrms · 1 year

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The Last Lab Rat #1: Only The Beginning

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content: lab whump, kidnapping, begging, needles, drugging, manhandling, restraints, captivity, trans whumpee, defiant whumpee, intimate whumper

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Anton decided five years was more than enough time waiting. His experiments were getting more and more dangerous to be practiced on himself, he needed a human test subject.

He began searching right away, despite the little voice in the back of his mind telling him it was a bad idea. Remember what happened last time?

He ignored that voice. Guilt? Morality? Whatever it was, his experiments were more important.

But he was never much of a people person, and now he had to go out and find the perfect poor soul that would have to endure an indefinite amount of gruesome scientific experimentations. He needed someone young and healthy, but still strong and able to take care of themselves for the most part.

And someone who would definitely not be missed if they were to disappear for a while.

After a few weeks of looking, he found someone. He never caught the guy’s name, but he would have to do. Anton spent his nights watching the man— who he assumed to be in his early 20s— from a distance. He worked a dead-end minimum wage job and was living in a small apartment with at least two other roommates. The guy didn’t go out much, and seemed to have little to no friends or family. He was a complete nobody. He was perfect.

It wouldn’t matter if people came looking for him anyway, Anton had a plan. He was a mad scientist, after all. He had a few tricks up his sleeves.

Anton spent the next few days planning out how to kidnap his new soon-to-be test subject without being caught. It turned out it was easier than he thought. All he had to do was wait, really, until it was the guy’s turn to take out the trash.

. . .

It was the dead of night, and Dew had his headphones on, so he couldn’t hear the stranger’s footsteps coming from behind him. Once the trash bag was in the dumpster and Dew turned around to go back inside, he suddenly felt a strong hand grab his wrist and pull him into an alleyway.

Before he had time to react, Dew’s scream was muffled by a hand clamping over his mouth and pulling him against the man’s chest. Dew struggled and kicked out as he watched his attacker grab something from his pocket.

It was a syringe.

Dew shrieked and bit down on the hand holding his mouth closed. The man hissed in surprised and loosed his grip enough for Dew to take a few steps away, only to be stopped by a hand around his ankle. Dew fell forward onto the hard concrete, kicking and screaming for help.

The man tightened his grip on Dew’s ankle and dragged his body towards him, the syringe in his other hand.

Dew kicked out, tears now freely flowing down his cheeks and his arms flailing for anything to grab on to. After he got close enough and the man started to lower the syringe— which was filled with a bright green liquid— towards him, Dew finally found his voice.

“W-wait!” Dew let out a petrified squeak, staring with wide eyes at the stranger looming over him. “P-please no, n-not that!” His breath hitched in his throat when the man made no effort to stop moving.

Anton tilted his head. He stopped himself from hesitating, he needed to do this. He thought this would go a lot more smoothly, for some reason. His new test subject was making way too much noise.

“Sorry,” Anton said, expression unreadable. “It’s nothing personal.” With that, he lunged forward and stuck the needle through his sobbing test subject’s neck, injecting the contents of it into his bloodstream. He covered Dew’s mouth before he could scream in pain.

When the syringe was empty, Anton quickly moved to the side and rummaged through some things in the corner that Dew hadn’t noticed before. Anton wasn’t worried about his new test subject running away right then; he would soon be far too weak for that.

Dew lied still on the ground, clutching his neck in terror. What did he inject him with? What was it going to do to him? His thoughts were racing as his body slowly started to give up on him. He tried crawling away from the man, but he felt himself just becoming weaker as he succumbed to the drugs.

Anton paid no mind to the blabbering mess that was next to him. He grabbed the rope and duct tape and began restraining his new test subject. It was a long ride home, after all.

Dew whimpered in protest as duct tape was covered over his mouth, but his body just felt too tired and weak to stop it. He didn’t have the strength to struggle anymore as rope was tied around his wrists and ankles, and a blindfold was gently placed over his eyes. Though, that didn’t make too much of a difference; his eyes were already drooping closed anyway.

The last thing Dew heard before being shoved into the trunk of a car and engulfed in more darkness, was a quiet “I’m sorry,” from the man. Then, he drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

. . .

Anton was a nervous wreck on the drive home. He had never done anything like that before. Sure, he’d had his fair share of experimenting on unwilling human test subjects in the past, but not downright kidnapping an innocent person. He was mainly worried about anyone hearing or seeing them, though. He knew he’d have to get his own test subject eventually, and he was prepared for that.

He calmed down once he got to the lab. It was a long 4 and a half hour drive, and now it was around two in the morning; he was tired. He had to make sure he looked for a new test subject far away so nobody that came looking would find them all the way out here, in the middle of nowhere.

Anton parked the car and walked to the trunk. His new test subject was still fast asleep, and probably would be for some time. He gently moved his arms beneath the man’s legs and back, lifting him in a bridal carry. His test subject’s head lolled to the side against Anton’s shoulder. He looked cute sleeping like that.

Anton entered his cabin in the middle of the dense forest, descended the stairs, and arrived in his lab.

The scientist walked through his laboratory and up a small staircase to a little room in the side of the wall that overlooked the lab. He unlocked the door, and stepped inside.

Anton had prepared for this moment for a long time. He knew he’d need a human test subject eventually, and he knew he wouldn’t make the same mistake his predecessor made last time. This person was a human, and he was going to be treated like one.

Anton had transformed that small viewing room into a bedroom, adding a bathroom in the back as well. Sure, it didn’t give much privacy for his test subject since an entire wall was glass, but Anton decided that just meant he could observe his subject in his natural habitat, so it worked out okay.

He knew deep down he should feel bad. This was an innocent human being he was stealing from their life, after all. But this was also his entire life’s work here, and the scientists’ that came before him. What would his mentor think, if he gave up everything for one measly little stranger’s life?

Besides, he’s a scientist, not a sadist. He’d make his test subject feel as comfortable as he possibly could, that’s the least he could do, after all, he didn’t deserve any of this. He gave his subject his own room, a small way to make him feel some sense of control he didn’t have.

Anton gently set his test subject down on the bed and began untying him, removing the duct tape and blindfold in the process. Once he was done, he attached a chain to his ankle and tied him to one of the legs of the bed. It was long enough for him to move around the room and into the bathroom, but not far out the exit door.

Anton swiftly checked his subject’s pockets only to find an old looking MP3 player that was connected to his headphones. Right. He was still wearing those. Anton carefully removed his subject’s headphones and MP3 player and put them to the side. He probably won’t need those anymore, but might use them as a reward for good behavior, so they were worth keeping.

Otherwise, nothing else was in his pockets. No phone or wallet, so he couldn’t even find out what the man’s name was. Oh well, he’d have to ask him when he wakes up.

Anton took off his subject’s shoes— he wouldn’t be needing those anymore, it wasn’t like he’d be spending a lot of time outdoors— plus, they’re uncomfortable to sleep in. His glasses, too, were gently removed and placed on the nightstand next to a folded up hospital gown.

Anton tucked the smaller man under the covers; he wouldn’t want his test subject getting cold the first night, would he? As the other slept peacefully and oblivious, Anton took one last glance at him before heading to the door. It’d still be a few more hours until he would wake up, which would be much later into the night by then. Anton had made sure the camera above the door had a movement sensor, just for tonight, so he’d be notified the second his new test subject had woken up.

As Anton opened the door to leave, he hesitated, taking one last look back. His test subject was wearing a hoodie with strings. Can’t have that. Anton swiftly removed the strings, trying to ignore his guilty conscience of past experiences, and left his subject alone to sleep.

. . .

Dew opened his eyes, tired and groggy, but he wasn’t in his room. His head was throbbing, and it took him a couple of blinks to even get used to the blinding light coming from… somewhere. Not like that mattered since his vision was blurry anyway. Where were his glasses? His ears were ringing too. The faint buzzing from the lights didn’t help.

He tried to sit up, but realized his entire body hurt. Dew ignored the pain and moved his arms to his side to push himself upright anyway, but after just a couple of seconds, he fell back into the mattress, exhausted. His arms were weak, actually, his whole body was weak. He could hardly move.

Dew opened his mouth to call out– not even for help at first– just for anyone, for anything. But his voice was sore and raspy. He didn’t have the strength to speak. His mind was groggy as he wished for someone to just tell him what was going on. The more he tried to remember why he was like this, his headache only grew more painful.

Dew decided the only choice he had at this point was to go back to sleep. Wherever he was, whoever brought him here, he knew he would find out sooner or later. He was too tired to notice the restraint around his ankle keeping him chained to the bed, as he drifted off into another dreamless sleep.

. . .

After a few hours, Dew gasped awake, jolting upright despite his struggles earlier. He was surprised he didn’t hit his head on the ceiling, but then realized he wasn’t in his bunk bed anymore. He remembered where he was, and panic started to sink in.

He could hardly see— where are his glasses? Dew frantically looked around until his eyes landed on his glasses on the nightstand to the left of the bed. He snatched his glasses up and put them on.

Dew quickly looked around the strange room, panic starting to creep its way into his head. The room was small, and there was almost nothing in it. Straight ahead on the opposite wall was a steel door that seemed to be the exit. The bed was located in the middle of the room against the wall, and it was the nicest bed Dew had slept in in years. The wall to his right was entirely glass; a window looking out to what seemed to be a mad scientist’s lab below. Huh. He decided to ignore that for now. To his left was a normal wall with another door, though it was smaller than the other one and partially open.

Above the exit was a camera. Dew scrambled out of bed to take a look and suddenly felt a tug on his ankle. He looked down to see a long chain attached to one of the legs of the bed. Great. His panic was beginning to skyrocket.

Why was he here? How did he get here? Who put him here? His mind raced with questions and confusion, but he knew he had to stay focused. This was probably just a dream anyway; he had lots of weird ones.

After peeking into the other doorway which turned out to just be a small bathroom, all of his attention was focused on the camera. Someone was watching. Whoever it was, whether it was the person who put him in here or not, he would get their attention.

He stood as tall as he could, with a stoic expression. He needed to look strong and determined, he couldn’t let whatever freaks put him here see that he was absolutely terrified and defenseless.

After staring the camera down for what felt like either a couple seconds or 20 minutes, Dew heard footsteps coming towards the door, seeming to be walking up stairs. That’s right, his… cell was overlooking a fucking futuristic mad science lab just like the ones in movies. How could he have forgotten?

Dew stood his ground. He couldn’t think about that right now, there was someone on the other side of the door. One by one, he heard the locks on the door clicking. Dew stood his ground. He saw the door knob slowly spin. His heartbeat quickened, he couldn’t hide his fear. Fuck this!

Dew frantically leaped under the bed, covering his mouth with his trembling hand, trying to be as quiet as possible. The door slowly opened, making a loud creaking sound. Whoever was there was being eerily quiet.

From under the bed, Dew watched the person walk into the room, and then shut the door behind them. And lock it. They turned back around with a confused hum and walked slowly towards the bed. Every footstep rang in his ears and the closer they got, the more Dew wished he thought of a different plan that wasn’t hiding under the bed like a scared child.

He knew there was no point hiding under the bed, this person could just look to see where the chain led, not like there was anywhere else for Dew to have gone. This was futile, Dew knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Whatever this person wanted with him, it couldn’t be good. Once the footsteps came to a stop, Dew realized he was crying. All the events from last night came flooding back.

“Hey,” A voice rang. Dew knew that voice. His hand slowly reached up to his neck to feel the injection sight. It was real. This was real. “You awake? What are you doing down there?”

Dew felt like he was prey being taunted by a predator, like some sick game. He remembered last night now, remembered the struggle and fear and terror and—

Dew couldn’t stifle a small sob. He wanted to go home. He didn’t know why he was here, or where here even was. He didn’t know what this guy wanted with him, or what would happen to him. It was too overwhelming, Dew couldn’t take it.

The man crouched down next to the bed and looked underneath. Dew couldn’t stop sobbing as he curled up into himself. He just wanted to be left alone, he wished he could turn invisible or disappear from reality, so he wouldn’t have to be scared anymore. He felt the man’s eyes on him, but he didn’t move.

. . .

Whatever Anton expected when his test subject woke up, it wasn’t this. The poor thing wouldn’t even crawl out from under the bed, much less look at him. Anton didn’t know what to do, the guy was obviously in distress.

Anton couldn’t exactly… force the guy out from under the bed. He wanted to gain his trust, for what it was worth. He didn’t want to sedate him either, they needed to have an actual conversation about what his new test subject’s life will be like now. Anton needed to get him to come out on his own. Hell, he didn’t even know his name. Maybe that was a good place to start.

“What’s your name?” Anton asked.

“…W-What?” His test subject looked up at him, confused. He furrowed his brows and murmured, “Dew… My name’s Dew.”

“Alright,” Anton couldn’t stand those eyes staring at him now, wide and sad and confused, as if Dew was pleading him for answers, for anything. “I’m Anton.”

Dew glared at him. He was getting nowhere.

“Dew, are you hungry?” Anton asked. That made Dew’s ears perk up. He thought for a moment, it’d been a while since he’d last eaten. He didn’t know how long he’d been sleeping in this room for, but he felt his stomach growl at the thought of food.

Dew took a deep breath and tried to stop crying. If he wanted to get out of this, he had to be smart. He had to be strong. He shakily nodded his head and moved out from under the bed.

To Anton’s disappointment, Dew moved to the opposite side of the room, away from him. He curled up in the corner next to the window that looked out to the lab. Yeah, Anton would have to explain that soon, huh.

Anton stood, grabbed something off the nightstand, and walked over to Dew. He towered over him as Dew looked up in fear.

“Alright,” Anton started, gesturing to the hospital gown in his hands. “So, I’ll go get you some food, and while I’m gone, I want you to put this on.” He set it down on the bed and began to head towards the door to give Dew some space.

Dew took one glance at the hospital gown and found his voice again.

“W-wait—” Anton paused at the door, looking back curiously. “I don’t— why am I here? What do you want with me?” Dew asked timidly.

“Oh,” Anton began. “I guess I should tell you now then? You’re my new test subject, to put it simply. I’m a scientist and I needed a human to start doing my experiments on. Understand?”

Dew’s stomach turned. He felt like he was going to be sick. No, he most definitely did not understand. Was he just expected to accept this like it was nothing? Like this guy didn’t just kidnap him and take him away from his life? From his friends? Dew stared in disbelief. No, this couldn’t be real. This was a dream. This only happens in weird futuristic sci-fi movies. Not real life.

Dew shook his head rapidly, he felt his heart going a million beats a minute and he needed to get out of here.

“I’ll uh, give you some time to process?” Anton could see Dew’s panic, which was obviously getting worse by the minute. Maybe sedatives were the good choice here?

“I’m not wearing that,” Dew said. He reminded himself he needed to stay strong, no matter what his gut tells him. He needed to focus on one thing at a time. He’d get out of here soon.

“Why not?”

“I…” Dew realized he was still wearing his binder. It had been on all night. He guessed Anton didn’t notice. If the scientist didn’t even know Dew’s name, how was he supposed to know he was transgender? Did Anton really know nothing about his new so-called “test subject’s” life? How was Dew supposed to adjust to all this change and have to come out to this freak who kidnapped him and called himself a scientist, who could so easily do anything he wanted with him if he chose to?

“I-I wanna go home,” Dew said, tears forming in his eyes again. He didn’t know what help that would do, but it was worth a shot.

Anton walked over to him, and Dew stood. He realized just how much bigger Anton was than him. He easily towered at least a foot over Dew, who was a measly 5’3. Great. Dew cursed himself for being so small for someone in his early 20s. He didn’t stand a chance against his captor.

“Dew,” Anton put his hands on Dew’s shoulders. “You’re my test subject now. I know, that’s probably hard to accept, and I’ll give you all the time to adjust that you need, okay? I’ll get you food, just put that on and you can ask me whatever questions you need to.”

“Why are you doing this?” He choked out, refusing to make eye contact.

“I need a test subject, like I said. I couldn’t keep experimenting on myself, it was getting too dangerous.” Great. So Dew would be expecting a whole world of excruciating pain and agony soon then, huh. “You’re young and healthy, and you have your whole life ahead of you— which will hopefully be spent here, if all goes well.” Anton gave Dew a few light pats to his cheek and when Dew didn’t say anything more, he left the room.

Dew turned his gaze out the giant window and watched numbly as Anton walked down the stairs and across the lab to a small kitchen area and began heating up some ramen. Dew ignored that dreaded hospital gown and began to look around the lab a bit more, since it was literally his only view.

It was a huge place, with lots of science-y looking things scattered about. There was no other way to describe it really, this place looked exactly like you’d expect a futuristic sci-fi mad scientist’s lab to look like.

There were various large vats of chemicals, most of which were empty. Weird looking plants— which seemed like they were definitely not from Earth— were scattered around the lab, some behind glass barriers. There were giant white boards filled with scientific equations Dew couldn’t understand, as well as a bunch of huge computer monitors towards the back of the room. There were shelves with stacks of brains in jars, various strange looking weapons, and vials with glowing liquids. About a dozen empty cages sat in a corner of the room, all of different sizes. There were papers scattered around a desk, with even more papers stacked on top of it. In the middle of the room was an operating table with different types of restraints, and next to it was a tray filled with dissection tools.

Dew was terrified, as he’d been all morning. Or… night? What time was it? Dew realized he couldn’t see any clocks in there, at least ones he could read. There were a few down by Anton’s science stuff, but they were all 24-hour clocks. Dew cursed himself for never bothering to learn those.

After he was done looking over the room that would probably cause Dew some very bad nightmares in the future, he wandered over to the bathroom. Before he went in, he felt a slight tug on his ankle. Right. He was still chained to one of the bed legs.

He untangled it from under the bed and went to the bathroom. He wasn’t putting on that hospital gown, his clothes were fine. Though, he noticed his shoes and hoodie strings were gone for some reason. Also his headphones and MP3 player. Shit. He’d have to get those back somehow. He didn’t know how he’d survive here for more than a day without his comfort music.

Once Dew was done in the bathroom, he curled up in a corner again, the one by his nightstand, far from the window. After a few more minutes, he heard footsteps coming up the stairs again to the room.

Dew hoped this guy wouldn’t be too mad that he didn’t do what he said, but he was not letting him take his clothes away. Dysphoria was the least thing he needed right now, and he was not about to come out to his kidnapper.

Anton opened the door to Dew’s room to see his test subject huddled up in a different corner, wearing his same clothes. Anton sighed disappointedly, knowing he’d soon have to teach Dew it’s not alright to disobey him.

“Look, if I give you food, will you change your clothes?” Anton asked.

“What time is it?” Dew asked, voice shaking once again. He eyed the glass of water in Anton’s hands, he realized he was incredibly thirsty.

Anton checked his watch, “Around 4:00 AM,” he said. When Dew didn’t respond, Anton crouched down to his level and put the bowl of ramen in his hands. Dew stared blankly at the food when a terrifying thought occurred in his mind. His wide eyes looked up in fear at the scientist, who realized what Dew was thinking.

“I didn’t poison your food,” Anton sighed again. “Look,” He carefully took a spoonful of the ramen and ate it, showing Dew it was safe to eat. Dew hesitantly dug in, though he despised the texture.

After he was done eating, Dew eyed the water. Anton took a small sip before giving it to him, showing it wasn’t drugged. His test subject gulped it down in seconds. Dew stared warily at Anton after that, wondering what his captor was gonna do next.

Anton glanced at the hospital gown, and Dew frantically shook his head. “I’m not wearing that!” He said. Anton sighed.

“Alright, you can stay in your clothes just for today.” Anton said. “But you’ll have to change into that eventually, it’ll make everything much easier for me.” Dew glared at him.

“Anyway, I need to get a DNA sample,” Dew watched as Anton reached a hand into his pocket and pulled out a syringe. His breath hitched and eyes widened in terror. “I’m gonna need to draw some blood now, okay?”

NO. No this was not okay. Dew frantically shook his head and looked around the room for an escape, but he was completely cornered. “N-no!” Dew’s voice cracked in fear and he couldn’t stop his tears. “No no no no, please—” He cowered deeper into the corner, making himself even smaller. He once again wished he could just disappear.

“What’s wrong?” Anton tilted his head in confusion. Surely his test subject had had his blood drawn before, so what was the problem? “I won’t take that much, I just need a small sample to see—”

“NO!” Dew cried. Great, a panic attack, just what he needed. “Y-you— you d-don’t understand!”

Dew had always had a terrible phobia of needles. He always cursed himself for never getting over that fear, especially since he had to give himself T-shots every week. Oh. That was another thing he’d have to figure out while trapped here.

Anton noticed Dew’s obvious distress, and put the needle down. He wasn’t sure what to do, this was going terribly.

“Dew,” Anton said as he put his hands firmly on his shoulders. “Breathe. Come on, take a deep breath, that’s it.” Anton had never been good at comforting people like this, but he supposed he had to get used to it if he was going to be the one responsible for taking care of his test subject.

“I…” Dew squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He thought about things he loved: music, comic books, that video game he’d been playing recently, and that cartoon character he was currently hyperfixated on. Once he was, for the most part, calmed down, he started speaking again. “I- if you need blood, why couldn’t you’ve just taken it while I was asleep, w-why’d you have to wait until- until—”

“Dew,” Anton squeezed his hands on Dew’s shoulders. “Relax. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I… I-I’m scared of needles.” Dew choked out. Now this weirdo knew his weakness.

“Hm,” Anton murmured. “That’s a problem.” He needed his test subject to trust him, it would only make things easier in the long run. But that obviously wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, so Anton had to try a different approach.

“Dew, if you don’t comply, I’m going to have to force you.” Dew whimpered as Anton picked up the needle again, and took Dew’s left arm in his other hand.

“W-wait,” Dew squeaked, struggling against Anton’s grip. “P-please no, I-I don’t-”

“You don’t want to be sedated again, do you?”

“N-no! No, but- please—”

“Dew, I’m gonna draw some blood, and then I’ll leave you alone for the time being, does that sound good?” Being left alone did sound like what Dew needed right now. He couldn’t stand the thought of being around this creep any longer.

Dew whimpered and nodded his head in defeat. He really was in no position to argue with this maniac. He had no idea who he was or what he was capable of, and he really didn’t want to find out what would happen if he kept disobeying. He’d do what he says for now, and figure out a way out of this place soon.

Anton slowly pushed the needle towards Dew’s elbow, who was now shaking and trying to hold back tears. Dew whimpered when he felt the pinch. It never hurt really, he knew this fear was irrational, but he couldn’t help it. He just wanted this to be over and done with so he could be alone.

After Anton got his blood sample, he silently stood up and walked towards the door, taking one last look back at his test subject, who was still curled up in the corner, staring with wide, teary eyes at the scientist.

Anton would have to work on gaining the little guy’s trust later.

. . .

Dew didn’t do much else that day. After Anton had left him, Dew was happy to be alone, wishing he could just curl up with his cat and listen to music, but that wasn’t possible at the moment.

After a while of just huddling in the corner, Dew peaked his head over his bed and out the window. Anton seemed to be doing something with that blood sample. Dew wasn’t sure if he wanted to know what.

He took a breath as he stood, scared that Anton would notice him get up and confront him, but that didn’t happen. Dew slowly took the blankets off the bed and huddled up underneath it again. He always liked being in small, dark spaces, and those bright lights were giving him a headache.

Dew didn’t want to fall asleep, but he didn’t really have much else to do. It wasn’t like he could sleep anyway, with his mind racing with thoughts of needles and pain and mad scientists. He didn’t want to think about what being a “test subject” even entailed, but he was sure he wouldn’t like it. He was a human! He didn’t want to be experimented on like some lab rat!

Dew hugged his blanket and closed his eyes, wishing he was anywhere else.

—

first chapter done!!! this is my first time posting my writing to tumblr (or literally anywhere else), and my first time writing about whump in general so i hope people will like it!! I’m really excited to continue this, i have lots of plans for my blorbos 😈😈

taglist: @whumpinthepot @shywhumpauthor @whump-me-all-night-long

let me know if you wanted to be added to the tag list!

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whumping-valentine · 7 months

Text

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 5 🦌

"Cabin Colds"

Content: Sick Whumpee, Carewhumper

1100 Words

Hey it's part five! Who likes sick whumpees and caretaking whumpers? 👀

This part is short and simple, but it was a way for me to vent when I was sick last week, lol. The parts will get longer and more complex as we go though, so you can look forward to that!

I really wanna try and get this little story done, because afterwards I'm gonna be posting my story on Valentine, which I'm itching to share with you all. God, I can't wait for y'all to meet Valentine and Vittoria, man. It's gonna be great. But anyways, I hope you like this tiny little slice of sick whump!

Fawn barely slept a wink that night, how could they? Tied up and in pain isn't exactly the utmost form of comfort.

Ironically enough, it was warmer down in the basement. Though that's probably due to the numerous broken windows around the cabin, closed off with nothing more than wooden planks and tattered blankets. And last night they just added another one to the list.

That's how Fawn would sleep for the next week. Their days consisted of the same old things, being taunted, condescended, sometimes slapped and pulled by the hair. Being treated as some pretty pet, or lowly companion. Eating nothing besides venison. It was all starting to take its toll on the poor thing.

As the days continued to tick by Fawn slowly came to the realization that they were going to be here for quite a while... unfortunately. They didn't want to completely give up hope just yet, but Hunter was quite experienced with this sort of thing, so it was apparent.

One night, Fawn fell asleep with a sore throat, and woke up completely sick. It was freezing, but they also felt hot, all at once. Their head was pounding, their nose was running, and every muscle in their body was aching. It was pure, absolute misery, and worst of all they weren’t sure how Hunter was going to react to it. Whether or not they were going to be comforting or neglectful, Fawn liked neither option.

Though they’ll accept any help by this point, they couldn’t just lay here, they simply couldn’t. They tried to call out to their captor, though their sore throat didn’t allow it. All they could do was cough, and a short while later, it was enough to catch their attention. All it took was one look at the poor thing for Hunter to tell they were sick. They crossed their arms and leaned their shoulder against the door frame.

“Feelin’ bad, baby?”

Fawn coughed, “Yes.”

The sound of their voice made Hunter widen their eyes in surprise, “Oh, wow, you really are, poor thing." They said, still talking down to them, "Need some help?”

Fawn would normally bicker and bite, but in this instance said, “Please.”

Hunter didn’t waste a second going to untie them. Rope marks stained their wrists and ankles, which were growing more frail as the days ticked by as Fawn slowly lost weight and strength.

Hunter picked them up bridal style, and carried them down to the basement, into a new room that was previously kept behind a locked door. A secret, cozy place that was actually rather nice, and well kept. They laid Fawn down on a couch, lit a fireplace, then covered them up with a thick quilted blanket. They left for a few minutes and returned with a cold washcloth, which they placed on their feverish forehead.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“No.”

“Wanna rest?”

“Yes.”

Hunter gently lifted their head, sat down, and placed it on their lap. They ran slow fingers through their hair. They chuckled, “What, too sick to yell at me for this, are you?”

Fawn simply peeked their eyes open, glared at them, and closed them again.

“I see, I see. You can yell at me when you’re better.” They said, placing a hand on their head as they dragged their fingers through their now coarse hair. Fawn hated it, hated that their captor of all people was being so intimate and caring. They always hated it, but in this instance they were far too sickly to even think of biting back.

Their head was pounding, fever burning, body sweating. Their throat was sore, it was hard to breathe, and they found themself asking for a tissue every few minutes. Their body ached, they felt nauseous, their stomach was upset, and every muscle in their body hurt. Their skin was sensitive to the touch, and they were tired as all hell but couldn’t find it in them to fall asleep.

They weren’t sure what exactly they had, but it was probably the sickest they had ever felt in their entire life. Really, they probably had more than one thing. Being held out in an old, dirty cabin with deer carcasses all over the place is a pretty good guarantee that you’re going to catch something. Hunter was surely used to the conditions, but Fawn clearly was not.

Eventually Fawn managed to drift off to sleep without even realizing. When they awoke again they were still there, head in Hunter’s lap. Hunter looked down at their sleepy eyes, and took the washcloth off their head to check their temperature with the back of their hand. They asked, “You feelin’ any better?”

Fawn’s only response was a meek, hoarse, “Thirsty.”

Hunter got up, gently laying them back down as they went to fetch a canteen of water. When they returned, they helped Fawn sit up as they held the canteen to their lips as they gulped down the whole thing at once. It felt difficult, uncomfortable, and painful to swallow due to their sore, swollen throat, but they persisted despite it.

“Want me to grab you something to eat, too?” Hunter asked. Fawn thought for a moment, and slightly nodded.

Hunter left to the kitchen once again, and ravaged through the old, dusty cupboards for something to feed them that wasn’t meat. They grabbed an old soup can, checked the date, and to their surprise it was still good. They rinsed a dusty bowl and poured the soup into it. They warmed it up over the stove, and retreated back down to the basement.

"I thought you'd like something other than venison." Hunter said, sitting back down with Fawn, "How does vegetable soup sound?"

Fawn could practically cry tears of joy. “great.”

Fawn's head laid on Hunter's shoulder, one of their arms around them as the other fed them soup like a child. Fawn was far too sick to get upset about it, accepting the gesture with gratitude. They closed their eyes as Hunter fed them spoonfuls.

The warm, crackling fire paired with their fever made them just about ready to fall asleep. They were so feverish and tired that they even found it comforting when Hunter gently rubbed their hand up and down their back. If they had any sense of clarity in their head, they’d find the gentle gestures and caretaking insulting.

Hunter finished feeding them the soup, placing the empty bowl on a nearby table. They looked down at the sickly thing in their arms, "Hm. I think it's time for bed, Fawn."

"Says who?" Fawn mumbled, the soreness present in their tone.

"Says me. You’re already falling asleep. And more sleep will do you good.”

“What do you care.”

“I care because I’d like to take care of my pet, that’s what.” They said, grabbing onto them as they both laid down. Fawn wanted so badly to fight against the gestures, but couldn't. They weren't sure if it was because of how ill they felt, or if it was because they actually liked it.

They hoped it wasn't the second one.

Hunter held Fawn to their chest, their arms wrapped around them, both curled up under the blanket.

Well, I suppose it's better than being tied to a bed. And, I guess there could always be worse creepy serial killers to be taken by...

Taglist: @parasitebunny

^^ If you want added, lmk!

#fawn and hunter #whump #whump blog #whump community #whumpblr #whump things #my writing #whump writing #sick whump #carewhumper

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whumpzone · 2 years

Note

Could we have vampire Col accidentally bite Linden maybe? 👀👉👈

Anonymous asked: Could we get some more vampire Colton? Maybe with Colton accidentally biting Linden?

well, you can get something close!

(masterpost)

CW: pet whump, vampire whumpee, brief mention of wanting to die (but then rescinded), some written gore

The vampire was no less stiff the next day. Still a model pet, nothing but obedience and eerie silence. He didn’t come out of his room until Linden asked him to. He had crawled out, and Linden had very gently asked him if he could try standing, and of course the poor thing had immediately struggled to his feet.

The vampire was taller than Linden, but from the way he had to hunch over, pawing at the wall to stay vertical, Linden guessed he could be much taller yet.

“If it gets too hard, you can sit down. You’re allowed on the furniture, you know that?”

The vampire nodded listlessly.

“It’s time for breakfast. Want to go downstairs and get ready at the table, like before?”

. . .

More sloppy cow blood. His sleeves were rolled up and he had squinted and turned his face away when he emptied the package, scared it might splatter over his face and clothes, but luck had been on his side. He really didn’t want to deal with cleaning old blood off himself, and he also didn’t want to start smelling any more like a potential meal.

Linden tapped the side of the bowl, seeing if he could make the gelatinous thing jiggle. Maybe he could freeze it? Turn it into an ice lolly to nibble on. But perhaps vampires liked their blood as close to a liquid as possible?

He thought about going the opposite way, then, and seeing if it would melt in the microwave. Oh god, but the smell if he did that. Linden had already sacrificed this bowl to the blood-drive-for-one, he didn’t want to sacrifice the microwave as well.

The vampire therefore received the same miserable offering. If he was disgusted, he certainly didn’t show it. He looked to Linden first, waiting patiently for permission, but when Linden nodded he wasted no time in devouring the contents.

Linden had his arms half-uncovered, blood pulsing just beneath the surface, and the vampire was only now exiting a period of severe starvation. The sudden regular meals had probably woken his stomach up, and now it wanted more, desperate to not starve again.

He had done all of those things and more, carelessly, thoughtlessly, and the final straw was when he reached down to take the bowl. Linden knew he shouldn’t blame himself, but he did.

The vampire had licked it clean, without a single speck of blood left, but it was still Linden taking his food away. Still predatory, in the eyes of a desperate vampire.

He pulled the bowl away just in time to see the vampire’s jaws snap down a hair’s breadth from his own wrist.

Linden jumped out of his skin in fright. “No- don’t!” he cried, stumbling back against the kitchen counter and pulling his arms over his head instinctively. The bowl fell to the floor where it bounced and rolled away.

He realised he had just raised his wrists up to the vampire. Through the gap in his arms, Linden could see the vampire’s eyes were wide and hellishly bright- but with what emotion, Linden couldn’t tell.

“Don’t, please, I’ll turn!”

It had all taken place in less than five seconds. When the vampire didn’t come any closer, Linden lowered his arms, bracing against the counter instead. Hands curled around the scuffed edges. The cutlery drawer, complete with several large knives, with just below him, although he knew if this vampire did pounce, he would have no time to react. He’d only seen a few actual vampire attacks, all of them via videos on social media that had been taken down mere minutes later. Vampiric speed was terrifying. Perhaps the most terrifying thing about them. In half of the videos he’d seen, the victims hadn’t even realised what was happening. One second they were chatting with friends, walking home from a good night out, and the next they had been dragged across the road with their throat torn out.

Their blood didn’t even have time to splatter against the pavement, because the vampire’s jaws had clamped over the gory chasm and begun to feed.

The throat trauma was often so savage that it verged on decapitation. Coupled with the vampire pushing against them, dizzy with the taste of their freshest kill, the human’s head tipped backwards until it touched their shoulders. A body staring up at the stars with dead eyes.

It was that fear that had been sown while seeing such violence that now bloomed as Linden stood in the kitchen, having a face-off with a vampire he had invited into his own home.

The vampire hadn’t moved- not even to kneel. Linden couldn’t tell if that was a good sign or not.

He had a moment, so he breathed.

“You don’t have to do that. I promise. I’m going to feed you, okay? I’m going to feed you every day, and it won’t come with a price. It isn’t going to be like your old life. Even if you can’t trust me yet, I need you to believe me.”

Believing is trusting, he thought. Whatever. What was the vampire going to do, pipe up and correct him?

He knew if this vampire intended to kill him, he’d be dead already. Even this one, in his dangerously weakened state, was still far stronger than any human. Like in the videos, Linden wouldn’t even know when his life ended and his eternal death began- it would be too sudden.

Why had the vampire almost bitten him, then? Why didn’t he do it? Was it his conscience kicking in, or his training, or a mixture of both?

Linden knew he wasn’t an advantageous kill, right now. He was the master of the house, and had already proved that he could supply food, and comfort, and all other basic needs.

He was pinning all his hopes on a simple belief that was seeming more unhinged every day: by the time the vampire was back to his full strength, able to hunt and slaughter as he pleased, then yes, Linden would be a logical kill. But the vampire would have realised that Linden meant no harm. That he had taken the vampire in to heal him, not torment him. The kill would never take place.

He let a few more seconds pass, just to be sure, but the vampire didn’t move an inch. It didn’t look like he was even breathing.

“You stopped yourself. Well d… thank you. I’m pleased. I hope you’re pleased too.”

Finally, a sliver of emotion started to surface on the vampire’s face. Deep, anguished fear. His new owner was delivering a speech before he got on with torturing his new pet to death- or something.

“Was it because I moved the bowl away? And my wrist was so near?”

Linden was surprised by the intensity with which the vampire shook his head. No? Linden had been so sure, though.

The vampire’s lip moved, not a tearful wobble, but as if he wanted to speak… just for a second.

When he had called them the night before, Linden had been told quite firmly by the vampire handlers that the thing didn’t speak. Linden had tried to press them to clarify wouldn’t or couldn’t, but they had insisted it was the same thing. Judging by the collar scars, Linden felt that it had started as a rule and turned into a permanent condition as the abuse escalated.

“Then… what? Can you show me?”

He remembered how the vampire had acted out a request for the muzzle with surprising competence. This time, there was nothing.

“You can move. You’re allowed.”

The second hand on Linden’s watch ticked by as the vampire found the courage to raise his right arm, then bring it down forcefully, palm open.

Linden nodded, and unclenched his hands from the kitchen counter, pushing them into his pockets. He felt safe again, and needed his body language to reflect that. He needed to project that safety outwards. “No, I promise, I would never hit you. I was just cleaning away the bowl. Next time, you could put it with the dirty dishes yourself?”

The vampire searched Linden’s face, then nodded.

“If I gave you a piece of paper, could you write a message, perhaps? We could use that in the future.”

The vampire glanced down at his own hands. They were particularly badly savaged, for certain, but Linden was also very aware of his vampiric healing ability. Linden had a small notepad and pen handy on the table. If someone ever wanted to take a crayon rubbing of all the indentations left behind, they would be left with a neatly written list of milk, rice, carrots, mushrooms, shampoo. And so on.

Indicating for the vampire to take it, Linden was encouraged when he did so. While he wrote, Linden went and picked up the blood bowl, taking it to the sink for a scrub.

He turned when he heard a clipped rustling noise behind him. The noise sounded as if someone had pressed pause on it too early. It contained sounds that made sense- the chair scraping as it moved, footsteps on the stairs- but they all came too fast. By the time he turned, the vampire was gone, and the notepad was covered in ink.

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry your pet is so sorry Master Master I won’t do it again I never meant to I’m a good boy I’m good now I promise I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry

What intrigued Linden the most was where he could just make out the words I deserve to die, obscured under layers and layers of harshly crossed lines. The vampire wanted to take it back. Did it mean he wanted to live?

. . .

Nothing would let Linden sleep that night. He didn’t try to fight it. Though the initial terror had been quickly warded off, his heart was still beating faster than usual.

Instead, he reached for his phone and stared at the last messages he’d sent to his brother.

His thumb hovered.

Should he?

Vik would fly off the handle if the vampire so much as stuck his tongue out at Linden.

Linden squinted against the unnatural light, his lip curling.

After a few minutes, he put the phone down.

tagging: @whumpsday @whumpycries @hollowgast1 @pigeonwhumps @cupcakes-and-pain @extemporary-whump @unicornscotty @d-cs

#well. should Linden pick the phone back up?#linden and colton #vampire col au #vampire whumpee #vampire whump #pet whump #asks #anon #HOW is this so long #how has this reached the length of one of my regular chapters #also when i was reading back my prev chapters to check some stuff #i realise that in 4 chapters ive somehow already made like 3 plot holes #LOL. we move tho dont we

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jennyyy007 · 3 months

Text

LITTLE LAMB 🩸 ੈ♡˳

Cw: vampire whumper, human whumpee, cruel whumper, creepy whumper, horror, medieval setting, kidnapping

———————————————————————

“Goodbye mama! I will return soon!”

Whumpee reassures cheerfully as they close the gardens gate and start walking over the small path leading into the woods.

It’s their little sisters birthday tomorrow and their mother asked them to pick some berries in the woods.

Tightly gripping the big basket they start skipping over into the deep woods.

It’s a beautifully sunny day, butterflies swim in the air, flowers started blooming almost everywhere since this spring started. This really doesn’t feel like a chore for Whumpee, but a break from all of the exhausting tasks at the bakery.

Whumpee keeps walking along the path before spotting the first raspberry bush by its side. They quickly hurry over to it, starting to pick the berries and carefully throwing them in the basket to not squish them up.

It’s so much fun!

Too much fun…

Whumpee quickly turns around as they hear some ruffling in a bush behind them. Almost dropping the basket, they quickly move to check who their secret stalker is.

“Hello?..”

They say, their voice slightly shaking in the process as they hold their basket tightly in their hand. A little bit more movement can be seen in the bush before-

Oh…

A small bunny reveals itself before playfully hopping away, disappearing behind a tree…

Whumpees stomach grumbles at that sight. They’re pretty hungry by now-

bang!

Loud thundering hits, making the already a little startled whumpee jump. The realization hits now, as they look around themselves…

where are they?

———————————————————————

Heavy raindrops pour down on the poor whumpee as they keep trying to find a way home. They have no idea where they came from, having been busy looking for berries for probably three or more hours.

The woods only seems to grow deeper as they run. There has to be some-

Ouch. Whumpee stumbled over a tree root, crashing down on the floor. Dropping their basket and accidentally breaking it while all the berries spill over the ground.

No- no no that was their Mothers favorite basket!

But as they try to get up, another realization hits in that process.

“Ahh!”

Whumpee twisted their ankle pretty badly. Tears start to build up in their eyes as they catch all their bravery together and get up, leaving the basket behind before starting to stumble their way. They still have no idea where home is, but staying in this forest overnight is definitely not a good idea. There could be wolves or bears…

Or worse.

After stumbling a little farther they notice something in the distance… a light.. no. A house! Of course it’s not a good idea to just head to a random house in the middle of the woods… but a house means that someone lives there and maybe there’s a town close.

Whumpee would rather stay at a strange persons house than get slaughtered by a hungry bear.

The shivering whumpee reaches the door before quickly knocking on it. It only takes a few seconds before the door swings open, like the person behind it was waiting for them.

As whumpee looks up they see a man. With raven black hair and brown eyes.. that in a specific lighting clould appear red.. he’s quite tall, probably two heads taller than whumpee.

“Good evening child. What can I do for you?”

Child? The man looks five.. maybe ten years older than them.

“G-good evening sir- I-I wanted to ask if- maybe I could have some.. s-some shelter overnight? I got.. lost in the woods and- m-my ankle twisted as well..”

Whumper looks down at the pathetic figure of a person. Shivering and dripping all over their front porch, their clothes covered in dirt and grass from the fall and there is even a small scratch on their knee… god..

“Oh but of course darling! Please, step inside I can’t have you get yourself in any danger out here!”

They say, stepping to the side to let them enter, smiling softly at them as they do so before closing the door again. Maybe a tiny bit too roughly, since they made another small jump… or maybe they’re just a frightened little lamb.

“Would you like to take a bath young one? I can provide you clothes and something to feast on if you’d like? You do look a little thin”

He says smiling as he steps past them, looking in their eyes. Whumpee makes a small nod.

“Y-yes please sir that- would be very nice“

The man makes a quick nod before stepping further down the hallway… a very beautiful hallway whumpee must say. The whole house… or.. mansion is architected in a pretty gothic style, no big lights just small candles along the walls or on shelves.

Whumper keeps motioning whumpee to follow them further up some stairs by the end of the hallway. As they reach the second floor whumper leads them to a bathroom. A giant one, which you would expect from a castle. There’s a big mirror, a large tub and a shower even.

The man walks over to the tub before setting the temperature warm and turning the water on before grabbing a bottle of lavender bubble bath. His favorite. And pouring it inside.

“Here you go darling. I will head out to prepare your dinner now. If you need anything, please call for me”

He says before leaving whumpee alone in the bathroom, closing the door behind them.

Whumpee sighs, relieved that they’re safe now. They quickly strip off their wet and dirty clothes before stumbling over to the tub, sitting inside.

Their ankle still hurts a little… but for some reason it already feels better.

Ahh… this is nice…

They think to themselves as they relax in the tub.

———————————————————————

“Goodnight child. Have sweet dreams.”

Whumper says before closing the door of the guest room and everything goes silent.

Except for the cracking of the fireplace, the whole atmosphere is so relaxing…

Whumpee moves to blow out the candle standing on the bedside table before they lay down, pulling the blanket over their shoulder.

Just a few minutes later.. as they were about to drift off to sleep, they hear a scream, making them shoot up.

They just imagined that right? It sounded so real…

Another one.

The high pitched, bloodcurdling scream of a woman. It came from downstairs..

whumpee quickly pushes the blanket off before setting a foot down on the floor, and a second one, getting up. Huh?… Their ankle feels completely fine. It doesn’t even hurt in the slightest. Odd…

Doesn’t matter- Whumpee quickly makes their way to the door, ripping it open before hurrying down the stairs, to the big hallway.

And as they reach the bottom of the stairs they see something truthly disturbing…

A woman… skinny… pale… wearing only a ripped, covered in blood, night gown. Similar to the clothing, provided by whumper, whumpee is wearing currently.

She stumbles closer before collapsing on the floor and whumpee immediately hurries to get over to the lady.

“Ma’am are you okay?! W-what happened?”

They ask as they try to help her up, without success… The lady looks like she’s been drained of her blood until near death… but as whumpee observes her face a little longer… they realize something… So-

“Sophie. Where do you think you’re-

Oh… Hello whumpee”

Whumpers voice sends chills down whumpees spine as they look up, seeing the man standing in front of them. His eyes glowing bright red…

“W-what- what h-happened?”

Whumpee says as they look at the woman in their arms. She doesn’t have much longer… and whumpee knows…

She was the towns librarian. A beautiful passionate woman… until she disappeared. Nobody knew where she went…

“Vam- vamp- d-drank m- my- me-“

The man just glares down at the two, resisting the urge to taste whumpees blood. Which’s sweet, honeylike smell he could already pick up miles before they even knocked on whumpers door.

“S-sophie- s-stay with me please-… sophie?…”

She’s dead… she’s actually dead… o-oh lord how- how did this happen they don’t understand!

“Oh… my poor Sophie… Your blood really was great.. Good that a new kettle came just in time…”

Whumper says, looking in whumpees eyes now. They look so frightened… so pathetic… so… delicious”

Whumpee suddenly starts to feel severely lightheaded, like looking in whumpers eyes was poisonous…

Just a few seconds later they loose grip on Sophies body before dropping to their side as everything goes black.

“See you soon little lamb…”

———————————————————————

Short story but part twooo??

@a-living-canvas @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @theforeverdyingperson

#vampire whump #whumpee #vampire whumper #human whumpee #whump community #whump #kidnapping whump #creepy whumper #cruel whumper #short story

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whumpshaped · 11 months

Text

whumptober 30

prompt list masterlist

tw knives, mafia setting(?), threat of torture, threat of eye gore

"Not much longer..."

Whumper plunged their dagger into the desk a mere inch away from Whumpee's hand, the impact making the poor guy flinch. "This is the third time I hear you say that," they growled, leaning in. "You're not just stalling for time, are you?"

"No! No, please, I know as much as you do!" Whumpee quickly put their hands in the air instead to avoid risking a hole in them, looking up at Whumper with raw terror in their eyes. "They told me– told me to be here, and they told me the shipment would come, I, I don't know anything else! They don't tell me anything else, I'm a nobody!"

"A nobody, eh?" Whumper yanked the blade out and grabbed Whumpee by the shirt, pulling them halfway over the desk that was separating them. "Then surely they won't mind if I make sure you're telling the truth."

"I am!" they cried desperately, stilling when the dagger came to rest against their cheek. "I'm telling the truth, I'm telling the truth!"

"Even if you are, I'm getting awfully fucking bored." They brought the blade further up, the point coming to a halt dangerously close to Whumpee's left eye. "So really, a bit of fun would be a two-in-one deal."

"Please," they whimpered. "Please, g-give it just five minutes. Please."

Whumper considered them for a few moments, then let go of their shirt with a heavy sigh. "Fine." They watched as Whumpee scampered all the way back to the wall, clutching their eye as if it had been plucked out. "But you better be very fucking entertaining in those five minutes. And they better get here."

general drabbles taglist: @ashh-ed @whumpsday @whump-queen @the-scrapegoat @hidden-dreamland @rosewriteswhump @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpkinpie @delicateprincepaper @whumppmuhw @whump-em @cyborg0109 @morning-star-whump @justanotherlokifan @2in1whump @lthrboy @justletmereadmywhump @florissimps

#zi's whumptober scribbles #whump #whump drabble #knives #mafia setting(?)#threat of torture #threat of eye gore

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livelaughwhump · 11 months

Text

Worthless - Part 19

Masterlist | Previous

Content: panic attack, very brief mention of noncon, dehumanization, self-deprecation, self-hatred, former pet whumpee

If I missed any content warnings, please let me know!

Colleen solemnly watched Lyra lead Elliot away. There was an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't identify. It was cold and unfriendly and Colleen did not care for it.

"That poor boy," She whispered.

Landon nodded. "I told you it was bad."

Colleen ignored him. "He's so small and thin. If I had known how bad it was, I never would've come."

"I told you not to," Landon reminded her. "I tried to warn you."

"I thought you were just making excuses to keep me away. I thought you were embarrassed to introduce me to your friends or something."

"Coll—"

Colleen held up a hand to show that she was no longer listening to him. Landon rolled his eyes as Colleen set her gaze on Karine. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Karine sighed. "Look, you seem like a really nice person, and we certainly could use the help, but I just don't think it's a good idea to introduce Elliot to someone new so soon after he was rescued. Especially because he's barely comfortable around us. I'm sorry."

"I understand," Colleen said. "But there's gotta be something I can do. I can't just leave knowing what that poor boy has gone through."

"Colleen," Landon cut in. "Karine is right. Elliot's just not ready."

"You don't know that. Why don't I just talk to him for a bit, one on one? Then, if he wants me to leave, I'll go. I think it should be up to him."

Yvonne shook her head. "Forcing him to make decisions is a big mistake, Colleen. If you spent any amount of time with him, you'd realize that very quickly."

"Then let me spend some time with him. Let him get to know me, and if I find some way to help him, I'll run it by you. If anything goes wrong, or if Elliot gets uncomfortable, I'll leave, I promise."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Landon questioned. "What if you just end up making things worse?"

"I don't think it's a horrible idea, as long as maybe Lyra supervises," Broderick added.

"Why would they need to supervise?" Colleen asked.

"Because Lyra and Elliot grew up together," Yvonne explained. "She practically raised him. He trusts her the most, so he'd probably be more willing to open up with her around."

Colleen nodded in understanding. "That's reasonable."

"He would have to be willing to talk in the first place though," Yvonne continued. "He's very timid, and ambushing him will only make things worse."

Landon threw his hands up in exasperation. "Am I the only one that thinks this is a bad idea?"

Colleen glared at her older brother and rested her hands on her hips. "Why are you so against it, Landon? I just want to get to know him a little bit."

"Because I know you, Coll. I know how stubborn you are and when you have your mind set on something, you're not exactly kind about getting what you want."

Colleen rolled her eyes. "Landon, I am a grown woman with two kids. Despite what you may believe, I am not fifteen anymore. I'm mature enough to speak to another adult without your input."

"A severely traumatized adult whom you know absolutely nothing about," Landon corrected. "You've barely spoken five words to him."

"Which is why I want to get to know him." Colleen turned away from her brother and toward the team leader instead. "Karine, you're the leader, right? What do you think?"

All eyes turned to Karine for the final verdict. Karine sighed and rubbed a hand over their sweat-soaked forehead. "Look, I get that you want to help, and I don't have a problem with you trying to talk to Elliot, but I need you to understand that if anything happens to him, I can't promise that you'll ever be welcome back here again. I know you're Landon's sister, and like I said, you seem like a really nice person, but we are all very protective over Elliot and we all want what's best for him. So, if you hurt him in any way, you may not be welcome back here. Understood?"

The silence between the five individuals was palpable. Landon, Yvonne, and Broderick were shocked to hear such harsh words come out of Karine's mouth, but they weren't as surprised as they probably should've been.

Colleen, on the other hand, wasn't as shocked as she was impressed. It was refreshing to hear how protective Karine was over Elliot. Colleen nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "Understood."

Karine nodded sternly. "Great. I'll go talk to Lyra and Elliot, and then I'll be right back."

Colleen couldn't help the smile growing across her face as Karine disappeared down the hall to run the idea by Elliot and Lyra. She couldn't figure out why she was so excited. Perhaps it was the idea of easing her brother's burden, just as he had done for her many times. Or perhaps it was something else. Colleen didn't know, but she couldn't shake the anticipation she felt.

When Karine returned, her expression was unreadable. Her hands were shoved into her pockets and she released a heavy sigh once she rejoined the group. "So, Elliot is okay with it." Colleen's eyes lit up. "But," Karine continued. "You only have fifteen minutes and Lyra is going to be in there the whole time, unless Elliot explicitly asks them to leave. Understand?"

Colleen nodded. "I understand. Thank you all for being so understanding."

"Why are you so excited about this, Coll?" Landon asked.

Colleen turned her gaze onto her brother. "Because this team is an important part of your life, Landon. If it's possible for me to help ease your burden, then I want to try."

"Elliot is not a burden," Landon assured her.

"I didn't mean to imply that he was. I just mean that all of you are going through something intense, and I want to support you, all of you."

"That's very kind of you, Colleen," Karine said. She shifted her weight nervously from side to side. "But I don't think you realize how serious this is. Elliot was held captive for a year and he's only been back for a few weeks."

Colleen nodded. "I understand."

"Do you? I know Landon explained what happened to him, but I guarantee it's worse than he described."

"Karine, I'll be gentle, I promise. Lyra will be there and she can kick me out at any point if something happens."

Karine sighed, her shoulders heaving beneath the stress of the situation. "Fine. I'm choosing to trust you. Please don't make that a mistake."

"I won't, I promise."

Karine pursed her lips and clenched her jaw. "Okay. Follow me."

Colleen did as Karine asked until they reached Elliot's door. At which point, Karine gently pushed the door open, revealing Elliot sitting cross-legged atop his bed and Lyra sitting beside him, gently combing his hair with their fingers. He was shaking like a leaf and his eyes were glued to the floor. Colleen could've sworn she heard a tiny squeak when the door opened. She really hoped this wasn't a bad idea.

Karine closed the door behind her and Colleen awkwardly stood beside it, unsure of how to start the conversation.

. . .

Elliot leaned into Lyra's touch and tried to quell his trembling.

"It's okay," Lyra whispered, only to him. "I'm here for you."

Tears pricked at the edge of Elliot's vision, but he forced himself to hold them back.

Colleen cleared her throat and Elliot flinched at the sudden noise. "Oh, I'm sorry, hun. I didn't mean to startle you."

Elliot curled up into a tighter ball and said nothing as Lyra continued to play with his greasy hair.

Look at you, dumb, useless dog. Weren't you supposed to be getting better? Is this how a human being reacts to meeting a stranger? Pathetic.

Elliot's lower lip started wobbling, but he wouldn't let himself cry. "H-Hello, M-Miss Colleen," he forced himself to say. It took all his strength to push out those three words and a sensation of physical exhaustion swept over him once he finished.

Colleen smiled so wide her cheeks turned pink. "Hello, honey. I'm so glad to finally meet you. It's been a long time coming, eh?"

Elliot nodded, his shoulders tensing despite Colleen's relaxed demeanor. "Y-Yes, ma'am."

Awkward silence filled the room again. Elliot focused on the feeling of Lyra's fingers moving along his scalp in order to ground himself. He loved the feeling; it made him feel so safe and loved to be touched so gently.

Colleen was the next to break the silence. "Do you mind if I sit with you? I promise not to get too close or touch you without permission."

Elliot didn't know what to say. She was asking him so many questions! What if he said something wrong? What if she ended up hating him? What if she told Landon about what a bad dog he was and then made Landon hate him too?

"Sunshine?" Lyra's gentle voice said, breaking through the unending list of worries continuing to build in Elliot's mind. Elliot turned his tired eyes over to his best friend. "Are you okay? You spaced out there for a second."

Elliot stared blankly at them until his mind caught up to the situation. Colleen had asked him a question and he had yet to answer her. Instead, he'd just sat there and zoned out like an idiot.

Stupid mutt

"O-Oh," he said, his cheeks turning bright pink with embarrassment. "I'm s-sorry."

"It's okay," Lyra assured him. "Colleen just asked if she could sit with you. Is that okay?"

Anxiety flooded Elliot's system; the color drained from his face and his trembling quickened. "U-Um...s-s-sure."

Colleen smiled sadly. "If you're not comfortable with it, that's okay. I don't want you to push yourself. I'm fine standing if that'll make you more comfortable."

Elliot nodded, struggling to regain control of his breathing. "It's-It's n-not my place to-to tell you what to-to do, M-Miss. I kn-know my place."

Colleen glanced between Elliot and Lyra, her pitiful expression growing even more so. "I'll just stand for now, then. No big deal."

Elliot couldn't help but feel the smallest bit relieved. As nice as Colleen seemed on the surface, he still didn't know her, nor did he know what she was capable of.

"So," Colleen began. "Landon told me what happened to you."

Elliot gasped, his face turning red-hot. Of all the things he expected her to say, that wasn't one of them. Why was she here, then? To taunt him about it? To make fun of him? To rent him out? He'd never been used by a woman before. He wondered what that would entail.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Colleen gently assured him. Her voice was warm and comforting, like a cup of hot tea on a rainy day. She was knelt in front of him, her warm, soft hands gently gripping his. "There's nothing to be scared of. I'm not here to hurt you, I promise. I'm just here to find out what I can do to help."

"That's very sweet of you, Colleen," Lyra put in. "But I'm not sure there is anything you can do. Unless you're a therapist."

Colleen's face fell slightly. "I'm afraid I'm not a therapist, but I am a mom." That caught Elliot's attention. She gently squeezed one of his hands. "And I heard you could probably use one of those."

Before Elliot had the chance to even process what she'd said, Lyra stepped in, "I think that's overstepping a bit, Colleen." Their voice was suddenly much more stern and serious than it had been previously. Elliot turned his gaze over to them and found a protective demeanor had fallen over them.

Colleen suddenly released her gentle grip on Elliot's hands. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to imply anything negative. I just meant that I have two kids of my own, so I know how to—"

"Elliot's not a kid," Lyra reminded her.

"Of course not," Colleen said. "I just—"

"I think you should go."

Colleen's eyes widened and her countenance gave away how hurt she was. "But—" As she glanced over at Elliot, the way his shoulders shook and his short, uneven breaths became even more apparent. "Honey, are you crying?"

Elliot held his breath. He wasn't crying. In fact, he was trying as hard as he could not to, but with every passing second, his tears threatened to overwhelm him.

Lyra put a hand on his back. "Sunshine?"

Elliot didn't know what to do. He couldn't speak without bursting into tears, but he didn't know how much longer he could hold them back anyway.

As if on cue, tears burst from Elliot's eyes and he buried his face in his hands. "I'm s-sorry," he squeaked out from between his fingers.

Lyra rubbed his back soothingly, coaxing out the pent up emotions he'd been trying to hide. "Sunshine, you have nothing to be sorry for. You didn't do anything wrong."

Elliot was all but sobbing now, his small body shaking beneath the weight of his emotions. "P-Please, don't f-fight b-because of me. I'm s-sorry."

Understanding bloomed on both of their faces, eyes going wide. Lyra gently squeezed Elliot's hand. "Sunshine—"

"Lyra?" Colleen interrupted. Lyra tore their gaze away from Elliot and fixed it on their guest. "Can I try something?"

Lyra hesitated. Elliot's breath caught in his throat when he processed Colleen's request. What did 'something' mean? What was she going to do to him?

Elliot didn't hear Lyra grant Colleen's request, but he assumed they had when Colleen slowly kneeled in front of where Elliot sat. Her face was a mixture of emotions, from sympathy to apprehension to regret. She didn't try to hide any of it, and for some reason, Elliot found a small semblance of comfort in that.

Colleen gave Elliot a gentle smile, but it didn't look fake or forced. Just like everything else about her, it seemed entirely genuine. "Elliot?" She began. "I need you to look into my eyes." Elliot did just that; the ocean blue of his eyes slowly rose to meet the sparkling jade of hers. Her smile widened. "Good. May I touch you?" Elliot gasped and shrank back a little, until she said, "Just your hands, I promise. I should've worded that better. May I hold your hands?" Elliot hesitated and then nodded slowly.

Colleen took gentle hold of both of Elliot's shaking hands as she continued to stare into his cerulean eyes. Elliot expected her to speak, to offer some words of comfort, just as everyone else did. So, when she remained completely silent and perfectly still, Elliot grew confused. Still, he continued to so as he was told, never taking his eyes off of hers. Her hands were warm and her eyes were kind and gentle. The longer he stared into them, the more his body seemed to relax. Perhaps it was the confusion that calmed his racing heart, or perhaps it was something else. Nevertheless, it didn't take long for the panic plaguing Elliot's system to completely disperse.

Colleen smiled. "Feel better?"

He did feel better, and that's what was so confusing. "Wh-What did you d-do to me?" He mumbled, his voice still shaky and broken.

Colleen giggled. "Nothing. I just helped ground you."

Lyra raised a skeptical brow. "That was...interesting. Are you sure you're not a therapist?"

Colleen smirked. "I promise I'm not, but I've been going to therapy for at least ten years at this point, and I've had my fair share of panic attacks. This is something my therapist used to do with me when I was younger."

"Th-Thank you, M-Miss Colleen," Elliot sniffled.

"No problem, hun. You can just call me Colleen if you want."

Elliot shook his head. "Th-That's okay, Miss. I-I kn-know my place. I know how to-to address my s-superiors."

Elliot was proud of himself. Surely, he had pleased her with his response. After all, she'd wasted so much energy on him already. He had to show her that he still knew his place.

But based on the look on Colleen's face, he hadn't pleased her. In fact, he seemed to have done the opposite. She looked horrified by what he'd said. What had he said wrong? He was trying to be polite and respectful. He was trying to be good.

Bad dog

Elliot bowed his head. "I'm s-sorry, Miss. I-I didn't mean to-to offend you."

"Oh, honey, you didn't. I was just a little shocked, that's all. Don't apologize."

Even after she said it, Elliot had to resist the urge to apologize. What could he say if not that he was sorry?

"Sunshine?" Lyra said. "I'm going to talk to Miss Colleen outside for a second. Do you need anything?"

Talk? Talk about what? Were they going to plan a punishment for him? Were they going to laugh at how clearly broken he was? Were they going to complain to each other about his insolence and complete inability to do as he was told?

Despite the anxious throughts coursing through his brain, Elliot merely nodded with his head turned downwards.

Lyra nodded and gently ruffled his hair. "Okay. Just come find us if you need anything, 'kay?" He nodded again. With that, Elliot was left to his thoughts, listening to the muffled voices on the other side of his door.

Stupid mutt. They hate you! They're probably planning to send you back to your master to be properly trained. Maybe they've finally realized that you're more trouble than you're worth. They want nothing to do with you

Elliot wanted to argue with the voice in his head. The team had been so nice to him. Surely they weren't planning to throw him out. Right?

Despite his better judgement, Elliot found himself sat on his floor with his ear pressed to the door. He hated to eavesdrop, but he couldn't help himself. He needed to know what his friends were saying about him.

Bad dog

Elliot flinched.

Landon's was the first voice to come through clearly. "I told you it was bad, Colleen. I told you not to come."

"I'm sorry, Landon!" Colleen shouted. "You didn't tell me how bad it was. In fact, you didn't tell me anything! How was I meant to know?"

"Quiet! He'll hear you."

The voices grew more muffled after that, so Elliot was forced to open the door in order to hear them. Elliot flinched each time the door creaked, but his friends were too enthralled in their conversation to notice.

"You were amazing, Colleen," Lyra said. "I'm still not quite sure what you did, but it certainly worked."

"It was nothing. I'm just glad I could help. It pains me to see that poor boy suffering so much. I don't understand how anyone could want to hurt him."

"Neither do we," Yvonne's voice added. "Elliot is the sweetest, most gentle soul I've ever met. Seeing him go through all of this is harder than anything we've ever experienced."

Tears flooded Elliot's eyes and his lower lip started wobbling. He was hurting his friends. He was making their lives miserable just by existing. He should've known.

"It's only been a few weeks," Broderick said. "But I don't know what we're going to do when we have to go on missions again. I mean, we're not hard off for money yet, but there are six of us. Eventually, we'll have to start taking jobs again and I'm not sure he'll be ready for that."

"It's not like we can leave him here either, though," Landon pointed out. "I mean, what if Whitlock is keeping an eye on him and just waiting for the perfect moment to take him back?"

Elliot stifled a gasp. Master was coming back for him? No, that wasn't possible. Elliot Pet was a useless dog. Why would Master want anything to do with it? Especially after it let itself get stolen.

"I mean, you didn't see the pictures he sent us, Colleen," Landon continued. "You didn't read his message. Whatever you're imagining happened to Elliot isn't nearly as bad as the truth, trust me. We've seen it."

Pictures?

What pictures? What message? Did Master send something to the team? No, that couldn't be true. Surely they would've told Elliot if Master had tried to contact them. So then what was Landon talking about?

"He sent you pictures?" Colleen exclaimed. "Of what?"

"Of Elliot," Karine answered. "He basically sent us pictures of everything he did to Elliot."

Elliot's eyes widened. Master had sent them pictures? That means that they had seen everything that happened to him. Why wouldn't they tell him? This couldn't be true. Surely he had misheard them, right?

Elliot couldn't bear to listen a second longer. All the air was stolen from his lungs and his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He stumbled backwards, away from the door, and quickly scrambled over to his window. He needed fresh air. He felt like he was suffocating.

This can't be true. It can't be.

As Elliot opened his window, he couldn't help the feeling of betrayal that overcame him. Why wouldn't his friends tell him that Master had tried to contact them? What did his message say and what kind of pictures had he sent? What had they seen?

Before Elliot could realize what he was doing, he was standing in a pile of snow on the other side of his window. He hadn't been out of the safe house since his rescue, but he couldn't bear to stay in that room a second longer.

They hate you. They're better off without you. All you do is cause problems. It would be so much better for everyone if you just disappeared!

Disappear. Maybe the voice was right. Maybe everyone would be happier if he disappeared. The team would be safe from Master. They wouldn't be woken up in the middle of the night by his incessant nightmares. They could start going to missions again without having to worry about leaving him behind. Yeah...it would be better for everyone.

So with that thought lingering at the forefront of his mind, Elliot started walking, with the team's safe house disappearing into the distance behind him.

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter!! Sorry it took a million years, but life has been really busy for me lately. Still, I'm very much looking forward to chapter 20 😈

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#whump blog #whump #whumpee #whump writing #writing #whump fic #whump community #whumpblr #pet whump #former pet whumpee #caretaker #original story #original writing #original characters #Elliot Córdova #Lyra Beckett #Colleen Copeland #Worthless #livelaughwhump

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a-crumb-of-whump · 2 years

Text

A New Beginning #1: Silly Little Dreams

Content: Rescue, vampire whumpee, vampire feeding, human caretaker, pet whump, starvation, [mentioned] muzzles, [mentioned] beatings, neglect, [implied] sleep deprivation, [implied] slavery.

The beginning of Carlos' story <3

Carlos knew his masters had been planning on getting rid of him for a while now. After twenty years of serving them, it was only natural that they’d get sick of him at some point, he thought. He tried being extra well behaved; doing chores and cleaning without being asked, spending hours at a time in his pet bed that sat in the corner of the living room just so he wasn’t in their way constantly, among plenty of other things. However, none of it seemed to do anything in his favour.

They were gonna give him away, and there was nothing he could do about it.

He was most surprised to hear that it was in fact their 23 year old son, Ryker, who had agreed to take him on. The human had been extremely kind to him over the years, even as a kid, but it was now coming on fives years since his last visit. Carlos struggled to even recognise him when he first saw him again, he’d changed so much.

The vampire spent most of his last day there locked up in his masters’ bedroom while they waited for their son to arrive. The majority of things inside were theirs, but he had a pet bed all to himself that he curled up in, only bothering to emerge again when he heard a knock at the bedroom door late in the evening. That had to be Ryker. Never in the twenty years that he’d been living here had his current owners ever knocked before entering.

“Carlos?” the human quietly called into the darkness. He poked his head inside for a moment and smiled; something kind and friendly, instead of the deceiving smiles Carlos often received right before something bad was about to happen to him.

He swallowed uncomfortably. This already felt weird.

Ryker’s heart practically broke for Carlos the moment he saw the condition he was in. He knew things were bad when he left nearly five years ago; the vampire was severely malnourished, and his parents had him sleeping on a hand-me-down pet bed that was far too broken and dirty to be comfortable. By the looks of things, not much had changed between then and now either, besides the fact that Carlos was now significantly skinnier.

He was suddenly so grateful he had the chance to bring the poor guy home and give him a life worth living.

“Long time no see, huh?”

Carlos nodded mutely, half-lidded eyes watching as Ryker tentatively stepped inside and shut the door behind him to give them both some privacy. He thought he saw the vampire tense up a little, but if he did, he knew how to hide it well. It was just so fucking sad, seeing him all broken and miserable, and it only got worse when he lit the room up a little using the knob beside the door. The guy looked like fucking shit. He had burn marks and scars all over his skin, some fresher than others. What was left of his hair was severely matted and/or actively falling out due to how malnourished he was. Even kneeling in the position he was in took far more effort than it needed to, and the sight just about shattered the human’s heart all over again.

“Jesus christ,” he muttered dumbfoundedly under his breath, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair as he examined the creature in front of him. “The hell’ve they been doing to you? Are you- are you okay?” It was a stupid thing to ask – he knew that before the question had even slipped his lips. Look at him, you idiot. Of course he isn’t fucking okay.

However, despite all the obvious fear and pain he was in, the vampire gave another tiny nod, his head tilted down as a sign of obedience. He was clearly exhausted and in need of a rest. Ryker wondered how long it had been since he’d last had a sleep.

“Carlos… fuck, man. I’m… I’m so, so sorry you’ve been living like this.” He truly couldn’t tell which feeling was more intense; the unbridled rage and resentment he was feeling towards his parents for doing something like this, or the heartache he held for the creature kneeling miserably in front of him. What saddened him more than anything was that Carlos didn’t seem to understand the problem. The second his apology came out, the vampire’s eyebrows drew inwards and he subtly tilted his head to the side, eyes that never dared to meet the human’s clouded with innocent confusion.

Instead of working himself up even more, Ryker forced himself to take a deep breath – the muscles in his shoulders and arms instinctively relaxing as he did so. “We can’t leave until tonight,” he began quietly. “So, uhm… do you just want to sit ‘n’ talk for a bit? Here—” He paused to push his sleeve up a little; putting his left arm on display for the hungry vampire. “—You can feed if you want, too? I can’t, uhm… I can’t offer much in the way of comfort until we get home, but I have more than enough blood to share, and my partner contributed some too.”

That caught the vampire’s attention. For a moment Ryker thought he even went to say something, but whatever it was seemed to become caught in his throat, and he closed his mouth once more.

“Can I sit down?” the human asked softly, hand slowly motioning to the space between Carlos and the bed. The last thing he wanted was to startle him before they’d even gotten home. Thankfully it seemed to work. Though he was confused, he slowly nodded and shuffled over, making more than enough room for the man to sit down with him. So he did so, and immediately held out the closest arm to him once more.

“You were serious?” Carlos finally spoke, his voice quiet out of pure disbelief. “I can feed?”

Ryker didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. Take as much as you need. I’ll let you know if I need you to stop. If you’re still hungry after that, I have another bag of blood in here,” he assured him, petting the backpack he’d brought on the trip. He offered a reassuring smile and motioned once more to his arm, encouraging the malnourished creature to sate his hunger. “It’s okay. You're not gonna get into trouble or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

“You’re not gonna get into trouble or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

That was exactly what he was worried about. After years of being forced to wear muzzles and punished for lunging at people out of sheer desperation, it was one of his biggest worries. All he wanted was to be good. Though Ryker had given him permission to feed, which meant that it had to be okay, right? A part of Carlos wondered if he’d be able to contain himself once he had started. What if he took too much? What if he couldn’t stop? What if he hurt his new owner in the process? So many anxiety-ridden thoughts flashed one by one in his mind, causing the idea of blood to become less and less appetising by the minute.

However, Ryker was clearly expecting him to obey, and the last thing he wanted was to upset the person taking him home. So instead of declining, he shakily pushed himself closer to the human and sunk his fangs into his arm as carefully as he possibly could, his entire body slumping out of pure, unbridled relief. It was so, so much better than he ever could have imagined.

Instead of pushing him away like Carlos had been half-expecting him to, Ryker casually leaned back against the wooden leg of the bed and crossed his legs beneath him, letting the vampire drink as much as he needed to feel full. It was a lot. By the time Carlos was finally able to think coherently enough to pull fangs out, Ryker seemed a little lightheaded; his eyes slipping shut for a moment, presumably to rest, and a loopy smile playing on his face.

“I took too much?”

“A little,” his new owner nodded. As soon as Carlos’ eyes widened with concern, he reached out to squeeze his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s okay, though. I’ll survive. You feel better?”

Slowly, the timid creature nodded. Right answer, he praised himself when he saw the smile on Ryker’s face grow.

“Good. That’s good. Let me know if you need anymore, yeah? Until then, I brought us a few board games to play together.” Carlos watched curiously as the man reached into his backpack and indeed brought out two board games that were very familiar to him. “Do you remember Snakes ‘n’ Ladders? I think I remember teaching you how to play it when I was a kid.”

Carlos nodded again. It had been one of his most enjoyed activities to play with him. The kid always let him pick the red character, even though it was his favourite colour and sometimes when he thought the vampire was having a bad day, he’d deliberately let him win. Carlos always thought it best to not tell him that he knew – it seemed to make the kid happy, and that was what was important.

“The one with the different coloured snakes that swallow you and the ladders that you can climb up?”

“That’s the one.” Carlos found it a little amusing to see that he still had the same mischievous smile on his face from fifteen years ago as he opened up the board and placed it down in between them. Sometimes it meant different things, but he liked to believe that right now it meant he was happy. Even if it was just another one of his silly little dreams… he dared to hope, just this once, that someone was happy to have him around—

—because sometimes silly little dreams were all he had.

Ryker couldn’t have been more eager to get out of that house. The moment he deemed it dark enough for Carlos to leave the house without the sun getting in the way, he was packing up and helping the vampire to his feet. The poor guy could barely walk anymore due to his muscles being so weak. In the end, the human carefully scooped him off his feet and began the journey down the stairs, his backpack loosely slung over his shoulder. He hoped more than anything that it was just the severe malnourishment that kept his muscles from healing. He wasn’t very educated on vampires’ healing process, despite the hours upon hours of research he did. He hadn’t realised just how bad Carlos’ condition was.

Despite his parents offering to have him for dinner, Ryker was quick to step out the door and head down the driveway, checking one last time to make sure he had everything he needed before carefully placing the creature down in the passenger’s seat of the car.

“Comfortable?” he asked, crouching down for a moment to be at eye level with him. “It’s gonna be a long drive I’m afraid, but we can take breaks and stretch our legs as needed, yeah?”

“Wait.” Carlos’ voice was soft but firm, and it immediately gained Ryker’s attention. It was the most confident he’d sounded all day. “I, uhm- I left my backpack in there. It only has one thing in it b-but I would really like to take it home with me.” Then his voice fell shy again. “If- if you don’t mind, of course… I can, uhm- I can go without it, I just… I care about it a lot…”

As if on cue, Ryker’s mother appeared at the door with the backpack in question in her hand. It looked virtually empty, so whatever Carlos had in there was obviously small. He practically scowled at her as he took the bag from her hand.

He only had one thing to say to her as he walked away again. His voice was practically seeping with malice, and it took every bit of self-restraint that he had to talk quietly instead of yelling every word loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to hear. Just thinking about the things they must have done to him over the years was enough to cause a small lump to form in the back of his throat.

“You disgust me.”

#whump #whump stuff #whump thoughts #whump things #whump scenarios #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #multiple whumpers #vampire whump #vampire whumpee

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 1 year

Note

Burnt with a cigarette for tiny Daero?

Author's Notes: got a little carried away, turned the fella into an ashtray. :')

Content Warnings: demon whump, tiny whumpee, torture, burns, smoking, cigars, heat whump, cruelty, dehydration, exhaustion, multiple whumpers, demon whumpers

----

Thirst brought him to these lavish gardens after days of wandering in search of shelter. The trickling of a fountain was so enticing and his need so urgent that he didn't consider who might own the property. Desperate, he fell to his knees beside it

It turns out that the gardens are kept by the courtesans of five wealthy and powerful but brutish demons, who waste no time punishing the intruder.

Now the demons sit out on a patio, around a circular wooden table, gambling, arguing, and puffing on cigars. Daero lies sprawled on his stomach in the ashtray at the center of the table, the pewter cold against his newly shrunken body.

At this size everything is louder, brighter, more painful. Dehydration has left him too heavy-limbed and weary to budge. He has never felt so vulnerable.

The group erupts with laughter, startling him awake just as his eyes begin to shut. One of their hands raises above him, casting Daero in shadow. He taps the cigar and glowing embers sprinkle from the end of it. Daero flinches, but by the time they reach his shivery skin they are nothing more than warm ash.

Four more hands and four more cigars follow until the tiny demon is lightly coated in it. Unable to even lift his head, he inhales a mouthful of the foul gray powder. Violent coughs wrack his listless body until his lungs and parched throat burn.

Daero is so tired of burn and heat and dry. His skin and lips crack with it. His eyes are bloodshot. And his tail - oh, his tail...

More frightening than all the hurt he can feel is the one he can't. His tail is completely numb, a relief that morphs into sinking dread. What if it's scorched beyond repair or worse...gone entirely?

Yet he can't help but feel relieved, because not long ago it was in absolute agony. It was delicate enough at regular size; like this it was outright brittle. And then the demons coated it in kerosene, set it ablaze, used it to light their cigars and then the flame die out on its own until his poor tail was burnt to a crisp.

Unable to catch his breath, Daero becomes lightheaded. Time passes in blurs of sound and silence, bright daylight and darkness, as he fades in and out of consciousness.

He is awake when the sun starts to set the demons finish their game and stand from the chairs. One of the tall figures looms over Daero; he shields his face, expecting more falling ash.

Instead the demon half-extinguishes what remains of his cigar on Daero's bare back.

It's an instant, sizzling pain that drags him from his respite. His mouth falls open in a thin, crackling gasp, the most his raw throat can manage now. Tears prick at his eyes and make tracks through the ashes on his face.

One by one each demon does the same thing, leaving Daero's back a mess of overlapping burns. Smothered by smoke and pain, Daero fades quickly, while the ends of five cigars continue to smolder atop him long after he blacks out.

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deluxewhump · 2 years

Text

The Scry: chapter II

CW: not a lot. tentative reassurance and comfort. building trust. series warnings for human trafficking, whumpee with exploited powers.

He decided he’d rather bring this Carlo boy home with him than leave him in the building overnight.

It wasn’t just that Ingrid asked to see him. It was a new and sudden sense of responsibility, even if its contours were rough and undefined. All day he felt a tug between the professional aloofness he usually liked to maintain at work and the desire to be a source of comfort for the precog boy they’d given him.

He was clearly abused before. By whom, for how long, and in what ways was not clear. The fact he was so concerned if this business was a fully legal venture or not made Max think for sure he was one of the repossessed precognitives that had been used in day trading and investments, or even the less subtle art of ripping off casinos and lotteries. Who needs risk management when you can see the future?

Which is exactly how he was supposed to use the poor thing, except with the green light from the United States government.

…At least for now. Carlo didn’t belong to him (the thought was jarring anyway, now that he saw the precogs were flesh and blood). He belonged to Spartan, and only because recent legislation had made it possible. It could always go the other way. Spartan could decide they weren’t worth it, sell them to another company. Or the winds could change in Washington (or the state of Maryland? He didn’t know. His mother would know), and the feds could demand the precogs back.

Five o’clock came. He knew it without checking the clock by the shadows on the office wall. The sun dipped behind the neighboring buildings, winter-orange rays cut by symmetrical blocks. He heard people talking in the hallway on the way to the elevators.

Carlo was curled in the armchair by the floor to ceiling window, dozing. He startled awake at the footsteps outside the door, confused for a moment as to where he was. He looked at Max and Max smiled gently to put him at ease.

“Hey.”

Carlo yawned sleepily, trying to stifle it.

“I’m gonna head out in a few minutes. You wanna come with me or stay here?”

Carlo looked at him closely, a quick up and down as if seeing him for the first time.

“My girlfriend is at home,” Max said as he began to gather his things, powering off his computer. “We can make some dinner. Probably watch some TV. She likes these really trashy shows, reality shows and competitions and whatnot. Honestly, I’m really into the one we just started. It’s like the reality show version of Clue. I’ve got a spare bedroom. We can make it up nice and warm for you.”

Carlo watched him slip his laptop into his briefcase. He felt like he was coaxing a wild animal out of a thicket.

“Or you can stay here. They have a spot for you downstairs I guess. I haven’t seen it. I imagine it’s like a dorm or a barrack situation. Who knows, maybe they went all out and it’s the Four Seasons down there.”

Does this kid know what the hell you’re talking about?

He busied himself by checking his smartwatch. It was a weird for him, saying this kind of stuff to this boy he’d just met, handed off to him so absurdly.

“The things I said to you this morning… all that still stands if you come home with me. I’m not gonna hurt you. It’s safe. I promise.”

—

Ingrid was way ahead of him. By the time they got home she’d been home for an hour and started dinner. There was a load of laundry in the wash, and she was talking to her mother on the phone. She saw them in the doorway and blurted a quick gotta go before hanging up.

She only stared for a second, to give her credit. He had too, when Cissy first dropped him off.

“I really don’t know what I was expecting,” she said when he was upstairs. “But it wasn’t that.”

She treated him like a guest, but there was a reservation behind her smile, the same as Cecelia had. It was in the eyes. Carlo held out a hand for her when they met, and she took it gently, giving it a little dip more than a shake. For some reason it made Max’s heart ache to watch.

When dinner was done and cleaned up, they sat on the couch to watch Ingrid’s new reality show. He and Ingrid both thought the best way to go about it was just to continue their normal routine and add him in, not make a big deal out of it.

Carlo was in the wingback chair next to them, his feet tucked underneath him and a blanket tucked up close. He was always cold, Max noticed. When they’d left the office the December wind had seemed to physically pain him, and he had trouble warming up, even inside.

Ingrid lifted her head from Max’s lap, shifting upright into a cross legged position. “Carlo?” She asked. “Can you… can you see your own future?”

Max’s head snapped away from the TV. She was always telling him he was too blunt, too pragmatic and state-your-purpose. And yet he hadn’t dared ask the poor thing something like that yet.

Carlo looked at Ingrid with those big doe eyes of his, bruises like shadows on his face. “No ma’am,” he whispered. Max read his lips more than actually heard him. He cleared his throat. “Sometimes it happens, but it’s not good.”

Max could understand her curiosity. They didn’t know anything about these things. There was almost nothing on the internet. It’s like they’d been kept in Area 51.

“Why isn’t it good?” she asked cautiously. Her copper-red hair was pulled into a bun, her eyeliner smudged from laying on a pillow over Max’s lap.

“It’ll hurt me,” he shrugged, like that was something not entirely unexpected. “It’s not supposed to be used for that. It’s against the code of conduct.”

Ingrid’s eyebrows knit for a millisecond before she relaxed her face again, cool neutral. “Whose code of conduct?”

Max pinched her calf where Carlo couldn’t see. Her knee twitched towards him a centimeter, but she didn’t bat an eye in acknowledgment.

Carlo looked from Ingrid to him, unsure if he should say. A commercial for dish soap ended and their show came back on, the cliffhanger middle of a reality show challenge.

“Hey,” she said, picking the remote off Maxs thigh and turning up the volume on the tv. “Shelly’s gonna win this one again, look at her.”

—

He brought Carlo extra blankets from the linen closet. One was an old family quilt, hand sewn by his great grandmother or something, he couldn’t remember exactly, but his mother always mentioned it.

The spare room was a little dusty, and there were some cardboard boxes in one corner— things of his fathers he hadn’t gone through yet. His parents divorced when he was in college. It had been coming for a decade, the spaces between sentences and looks growing wider by the year until they were more like roommates, strangers with a grown child who shared their DNA.

His father lived out in Phoenix now. He had a girlfriend Max and Ingrid’s age. His mother lived downtown, closer to the true love of her life, the law practice she and her business partner ran. Sometimes, even now, he would feel a twinge of annoyance at his mothers seemingly bottomless devotion to her practice.

She’s like one of those German Shepherds that carries rocks around in its mouth til it bleeds, he’d said to Ingrid in a particularly ungenerous moment. She’d been too kind to point out it was maybe a twinge of jealousy, but he felt it in her sympathetic little downturned mouth.

That possibility was too immature and borderline Oedipal for him to want to contemplate. After the divorce finalized, he inherited the old family Victorian at twenty four, and had lived in it these seven years since until it felt like his house and no longer his parents’.

Carlo got gingerly into the single bed, made up with fresh sheets earlier in the afternoon by Ingrid.

Max laid the heavy extra quilt at his feet. “It's a little chilly upstairs at night,” he admitted. “Can I get you some socks or something?”

“I’m okay,” Carlo said politely. Max went to the dresser anyway, pulling out a thick pair of socks folded into a ball.

“Just in case,” he said, and set them on the bedside table.

“Max?”

He paused in the doorway.

“Are we going to start tomorrow?”

Something in the tender innocence of the question stung. He couldn’t tell if it had been asked out of fear or curiosity, though he sensed both on the boy almost constantly.

“Yeah,” he answered truthfully. “We should take a shot at it, if you’re ready.”

“Okay.”

“You think you can get some sleep?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Just let him keep doing it, if that’s what he wants to call you. Maybe it’s a way to keep it professional, keep some distance. Let him have that.

“We’re right down the hall if you need us. Ok? Anything at all.”

In the dark of his bedroom, Ingrid turned to him restlessly. He could feel her eyes on him, the blue glow of the digital clock just enough to see the outline of her shoulder.

“I’m sorry I asked him that.”

“It’s fine.”

Ingrid could be impulsive, but her regret and introspection later was always twofold. She’d drink a few glasses of wine at dinner with their friends and worry for a week she’d been too candid, laughed too loud. She thought she’d been accidentally rude to their waiter once and asked Max to turn the truck around so she could go back and explain her mistake. He didn’t turn the truck around, of course. He told her she was way in her own head, to learn to let it go.

He felt for her arm in the dark, followed it down to her hand and held it loosely. She turned her palm up to reciprocate.

“I wonder, too,” he told her. “I wanna know who hurt him like that, for one. And the elephant in the room— could he see our futures, if he tried?”

“I don’t think I wanna know my future.”

“Me either. And if you do know it, could you inadvertently change it? Is it set in stone? Does him having precognitive sight mean free will is an illusion after all?”

Ingrid groaned. Both as a lapsed Baptist and devout atheist, she didn’t like that.

“Sorry, kid,” he grinned in the dark. “We don’t need to worry about free will before bed.”

“Tell me how it goes tomorrow. I don’t wanna know my own future, but I wanna know what he can do. What it’s like.”

“I will,” he promised, squeezing her cool hand. “I’ll tell you all about it.”

Scry taglist;

@whumpsday @distinctlywhumpthing @pumpkin-spice-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

#the scry au #whumpee with powers #hurt/comfort #abuse cw #human trafficking cw #next chapter is his first day on the job #then I have something mean in mind #ingrids a good girl i promise she just had to ask #someone had to #max and Ingrid

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worldsfromhoney · 10 months

Text

S.A.D.

Masterlist

CW: PTSD

Prompt 10: Sadness

Caretaker only noticed their tattoo shop neighbour was closed when they’re already closing up themselves. As was usual, they were used to having their neighbour’s sign turn on, a neon static wonder lighting the entire street.

They looked over and saw a dead sign. Actually, more than the sign, the shop itself was dead with not a single light inside.

Caretaker frowned. That was not on. They and Whumpee had this established routine—Whumpee would turn on their ostentatious sign and Caretaker would come in to chat with them as customers came in during the night. It was their thing, the only thing about their, er, relationship(?) that was clear cut and defined.

Caretaker glared at the still dead sign as if doing so would make it light and liven the shop as it was prone to do.

It stayed dead, and Caretaker stood like a loon in front of their flower shop, feeling lost.

It was just that … well, for every night since they had the pleasure of making Whumpee’s acquaintance, Caretaker had formed a routine with the young lad. Albeit they always had a furrowed brow and greeted their repeated presence with a defeated sigh, Whumpee had never turned them away.

Caretaker huffed and shook their head. Really. What’s got into them? They’re too old to feel sulky of all things.

But didn’t they have a right to know Whumpee would not be around? A call? A text? Even a note crudely taped on their flower shop’s window would’ve been nice, dammit.

Caretaker wasn’t sulking.

…Ok, they were, and it was only because they didn’t enjoy feeling so lost. It was like the world stopped making sense and won’t Whumpee manifest themself right now here please?

No one showed, and Caretaker deflated. They sighed. No choice then.

Whumpee almost called the cops on Caretaker, but they brought a McDonald’s and it got them through the door.

“Okay, in my defence,” Caretaker said, quickly finding the kitchen and setting shop there. “You didn’t tell me your apartment number.”

“And … you think that justifies you screaming my name in the middle of the night?”

Caretaker was ready to embark on a well-founded explanation on how it wasn’t ‘the middle of the night’ and how they hadn’t really been screaming but stopped.

Something was wrong with Whumpee.

The lad … looked like crap. Under the poor lighting of the apartment, Caretaker could see the deep shadows under their eyes. They’d always been pale, but they were closer to undead now than just a youth who hadn’t been out much. Sweat beaded on their forehead and the ever-present furrow in their brows was deeper than Caretaker had seen them.

“Hey,” Caretaker said softly, coming closer. “What’s with you? Are you sick? I can—”

They had a hand reaching out to take Whumpee’s temperature, but the lad flinched. Caretaker froze and so did Whumpee. They were stuck in that impasse before Caretaker broke it. Gently and with eyes on Whumpee, they drew back their hand. Whumpee watched it with shaking eyes and apprehension. They only let out a breath when it was back by Caretaker’s side.

“O … kay,” Caretaker said, as lost as they were when they saw the dead sign. “What just happened?”

“Nothing,” Whumpee snapped. Then they shook their head and ran a hand down their face. “Sorry, I … It’s been a long day, alright?”

That was a dismissal. Caretaker themself had used the same excuse when their ex-partners wanted to start a fight. Normally, they wouldn’t let it go. Whumpee knew how persistent they were and seemed to brace themself for the questions to come.

Caretaker nodded.

“Okay,” They said and shot them a cheery grin. “You got a guest room?”

Caretaker found out the problem was that very night which was sooner than they’d expected. They were at least ready to annoy Whumpee for five days, max, by turning up at their apartment every night.

When they heard the sobbing, they wished they pushed much sooner.

Caretaker had never been in this apartment, but it wasn’t hard to follow Whumpee’s sobs and cries to the bedroom. The door was ajar and Caretaker bet they wouldn’t’ve heard the sounds if it was closed. Small miracles. Small mercies.

Assuming the sounds came from Whumpee was one thing, and actually seeing their contorted face and figure on the bed was another. They had their tattooed arms over their face, hands convulsing as if—

As if they were being hit. Over and over, a never-ending nightmare they couldn’t get themselves out of.

Their legs were tangled in the blankets and it wasn’t helping with whatever memory Whumpee was reliving. They were thrashing on the bed and thrashed more when Caretaker reached out to them.

The touch didn’t help. At least the brush of it didn’t. But when Caretaker carefully held Whumpee’s wrists and pulled their arms away, they came easily. When Caretaker situated themself behind Whumpee, the lad’s head on their chest, their panicked breathing seemed to ease.

With gentle motions, they rubbed Whumpee’s arms, massaging along the artistry of ink there. They kneaded and repeated the motions over and over until Whumpee was no longer thrashing.

It was a few moments before Whumpee spoke.

“It’s my scars and … and other things,” They said, voice hoarse and so fragile Caretaker could’ve broken them with a single breath. “They ache during the rainy season. That’s — that’s why I closed shop. For a while, anyway.”

And Whumpee could’ve stopped there. Caretaker hadn’t asked for anything more. But Caretaker hadn’t stopped their soothing motions and something in Whumpee broke. The breaking that would lead to something good in the long run.

They told Caretaker everything. About their stunt as an ex-bodyguard for a gentleman turned psychopath. The torture. The beatings. The freedom that only came when their employer had got bored with them.

Throughout this, Whumpee had moved inch by inch till they were curled on Caretaker’s lap. Caretaker had changed their occasional hums to whispering it’s okay, it’s okay, I’m listening in Whumpee’s ear.

And sometimes? That’s all someone needs.

#bee writes some stuff #writeblr #writing #flash fiction #comfortember 2023 #comfortember #whumpee x caretaker #tattoo artist x flower shop owner

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