#recaptured Whumpee

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

The first time Whumpee said

"Can I have some more?"

"I wish you came more often."

"I'm too tired for that.."

"It may not be perfect but I made it."

"I like that one better."

"..I don't get it- oh!"

"Please remember my meds this time."

"Can you look it up?"

"No, the other left- thanks."

"What did you say?"

"I think I can do it by myself."

"Best day of my life. Really."

"You look like a clown!"

"Surprise!"

"Do you need some help?"

"We're nearly there."

But when Whumpee came back

even though Caretaker begged with tears in their eyes

They couldn't say any of that.

[chaotic-orphan]

A Month of Whump: Winter Whumperland Day 8 - John McClane

Russian roulette // forced to watch // held hostage

LISTEN DIE HARD IS MY FAVOURITE MOVIE AND THERE IS JUST SOMETHING ABOUT HOW HE IS ALWAYS COVERED IN BLOOD THAT GAVE SEVEN-YEAR-OLD-ME WHUMPERFLIES OKAY!!!

Also I know it’s late, but time is relative, okay?

*~*~*~*~*

“I knew you’d come,” Whumper said with a smile, but Whumpee wasn't paying attention to Whumper. Instead their gaze was locked onto Caretaker who was being held by two of Whumper's henchmen behind where Whumper sat. Whumpee swallowed as they watched realisation dawn on Caretaker’s face. Black blood dried from his left nostril, caked and flaking down his lips. He had dark red bags under his eyes, that contrasted with his too pale face. A giant black bruise took up the bulk of his left cheek, his bottom lip split open.

He barely even looked like Caretaker anymore. Just a shell of who Caretaker was. It had only been two days… the guilt flooded Whumpee the moment Caretaker met their eyes.

“Whumpee no! No!” Caretaker yelled, wild green eyes angry and glaring helpless at Whumpee as he struggled against two of Whumper’s henchmen holding him. “I told you to run!”

“I couldn’t leave you here,” Whumpee said, voice quiet and cold, switching their gaze to glare at Whumper. “Not with them.”

“I do love a good reunion,” Whumper said, standing to greet Whumpee. Whumpee was stiff as Whumper walked towards them. Caretaker was anything but, struggling furiously in the corner his hands tied behind his back, the henchmen struggling to keep Caretaker down.

“Don’t touch them!” Caretaker growled, then suddenly threw his weight to the left and knocked one of the Henchmen into the wall. Caretaker was about to do the same when he saw Whumper grab Whumpee by the throat and slam them back against the wall.

Caretaker froze in place, half hunched ready to pounce on the other henchman but all he could do was look at Whumper’s hand around Whumpee’s throat.

Whumper glanced back at Caretaker knowingly, while Whumpee glared at Whumper and grabbed their wrist with both hands.

“Caretaker, do I have to explain to you again? Who holds the power here, do you need a demonstration old friend?”

“Whumper—”

Whumper sucked in a breath and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Wrong answer, Caretaker.”

“Wait, Whumper!”

Whumper blocked Caretaker’s view of Whumpee with his body, smiling down at Whumpee like this was a professional hazard.

Whumpee threw their body forward and got two inches of leverage before Whumper hummed and slammed them back, their head smacking off the wall.

“Whumper! Stop!”

Whumper’s right hook connected with Whumpee’s cheek and they cried out. Whumpee could still hear Caretaker’s struggles behind Whumper, even over the sound of their own as they tried to push Whumper off of them.

Another punch went to the bridge of Whumpee’s nose, then their jaw, then their lips and then again against their cheek. Whumper released Whumpee’s throat with the final punch and let Whumpee slid down the wall sideways, cradling a hand to their cheek.

He didn’t let Whumpee slide all the way down, grabbing them in the middle of their hoodie and half holding them up.

“Now, Caretaker, is that enough blood for you to learn your mistake or do we need more?”

“You’re a fucking bastard, Whumper!” Caretaker yelled, grunting with the effort trying to get free of the hands on him.

Whumper looked down at Whumpee apologetically. Then he grabbed Whumpee’s head and slammed it against his knee. Whumpee fell to the ground crying out and then gasped when Whumper slammed a foot on their ribs.

“Hurt me! Hurt me, not them!” Caretaker raged, helpless tears gathering behind his eyes. Whumper pressed his heel down harder on Whumpee’s ribs who blubbered, before turning their head as they gurgled a spit bubble of blood before spitting out a glob onto the floor. “Whumper please!”

“Ahh!” Whumper exclaimed happily, immediately taking his foot off of Whumpee’s chest and turning to face Caretaker. “There we go, and they say you can’t teach an old dog new manners.”

“Tricks—” Whumpee corrected, slowly getting to all fours.

Whumper turned and kicked Whumpee to the ground again without looking at them, instead drinking in Caretaker’s struggles.

“Mmm, I have some tricks, Caretaker. You’d know all about that wouldn’t you? I learned some of them from you after all,” Whumper said, something simmering behind the words, looking directly into Caretaker’s fury filled eyes. “Y’know, Whumpee, there was a time when Caretaker protected me this fiercely. A time before you came along.”

“It’s not Whumpee’s fault you turned into a psycho, Whumper.”

Whumper’s nostrils flared as he smiled. “Why, Caretaker, do you want to take the credit for it?”

Caretaker didn’t say anything, just stared at the face of his best friend and saw a stranger looking back at him. Whumper hmphed softly at Caretaker’s silence then turned back to Whumpee who was on all fours again.

Whumper leaned down and grabbed the back of Whumpee’s hoodie, dragging them to their feet with ease even as Whumpee struggled.

“That’s it, it’s alright, come on now, we’re going to play a game. That’s it, settle down now,��� Whumper said shoving Whumpee down into a chair. Whumpee fixed their hoodie with a huff, wiping the blood from their nose on the back of their hand. They never took their eyes off Whumper as he walked around the small square table, only big enough to fit two people sitting at it. Whumper took the chair opposite Whumpee where he was sitting when Whumpee first arrived.

Whumper grinned at Whumpee when he finally sat down.

“God, you look so much like an old friend of ours,” Whumper said, looking over his shoulder at Caretaker. “Do you remember Friend? They always had that wildness to them, I only noticed now with the smeared blood and the murderous glint in your eyes. Caretaker was the one to put them down,” Whumper said turning his attention back to Whumpee and winking.

“I don’t care,” said Whumpee, voice cracking after being strangled. “Me for Caretaker, that’s the deal.”

“Whumpee—”

Whumper clicked his fingers in the air and wagged his finger at Caretaker’s protest. “Caretaker I swear to god I will gag you if you interrupt us again. Do you understand? The last word I want from you is yes or no.”

Caretaker let out a begrudging yes, and Whumper smiled again. “Good. Danny, can you get something to gag him with, I feel like we’ll need it before we are finished here.”

Whumper turned his attention to Whumpee again, a dazzling smile on his face as he interlocked his fingers on the table.

“Now, Whumpee. Your deal is a good one, however, I don’t like it because it’s only half good. Either I lose Caretaker or I keep Caretaker but that means I don’t one of you.”

“You can keep one of us though,” Whumpee argued.

Whumper smiled. “Yes. I know,” he replied calmly, then leaned forward, eyes twinkling with mischief. “But I have a better deal.”

Whumpee’s eyes flashed to Caretaker behind Whumper who shook his head before settling on Whumper again.

“Okay. What’s your deal?”

“My deal is far more favourable for both sides, Whumpee. I propose a game… a game of chicken you could say. If you win, I’ll let you and Caretaker go no strings attached.”

Whumpee’s heart pounded against their chest, hope fluttering it faster, harder, louder. They glanced at Caretaker again, whose suspicious eyes were focused on Whumper.

Whumpee swallowed. “And if you win?”

“If I win I get both of you.”

“No,” Caretaker said immediately. “No. Absolutely not, Whumpee walk away. Whumper—”

“Ah! Danny, just in time, shut Caretaker up would you?”

Whumpee stood up but a hand on each of their shoulders forced them to sit back down again. “Whumpee, don’t! Whatever it is don— argh— mmph!”

Whumpee shot up again but was forced back down and the chair pushed in further to the table keeping them sitting. The table edge pressed painfully against their ribs.

Whumper smiled at Whumpee. “Whumpee, I could just as easily take you both right now by force. You’re outnumbered. I could have killed you when you walked in the door but I didn’t, did I? Do you know why I didn’t Whumpee?”

Whumpee swallowed, eyes going back to Caretaker who huffed furiously around the gag.

“Because you’re a fucking monster?” Whumpee asked, raising their brows and dragging their gaze back to Whumper’s stupid smiling face.

“No. It’s because I invited you here for a negotiation in good faith. If you like we don’t have to play and I can just take you both—”

“No,” Whumpee said quickly at the same time Caretaker mumbled out something like a no behind Whumper.

Whumper smiled and sat back into his chair, smile turned smirk now. “So you agree to play then?”

“Yes,” Whumpee said again, not looking at Caretaker who cried out against the gag again.

“Good,” Whumper said. “Very good. Here’s the game.”

Whumper pulled out a revolver that Whumpee had only seen Whumper use once. Whumpee flinched back but didn’t go very far. Whumper grinned as he cocked the gun at Whumpee and Caretaker screamed and struggled with renewed energy against the Henchmen holding him back.

Whumper let out a soft laugh. “Just kidding. God, Caretaker, it’s so easy to rile you up.”

Whumper held the hammer and pulled the trigger before slowly lowering it until the gun wasn’t live anymore. Then he pushed his thumb against the ejector rod and took the round out of the chamber. Whumper then slowly turned the cylinder, and repeated this until all six bullets dropped rhythmically onto the table between them. The entire time Whumper kept eye contact with Whumpee, a soft smirk on his face as he watched Whumpee swallow back the lump in their throat.

“—umph—r—nn—” Caretaker screamed against the gag until the last bullet fell from the cylinder and into Whumper’s awaiting hand.

“You know this game Whumpee?” Whumper asked, cocking an eyebrow at Whumpee.

Whumpee’s throat was suddenly dry, so they swallowed again, before they replied nervously: “I thought you said we were going to play chicken.”

“A version of it,” Whumper said with a shrug. “Russian roulette. Caretaker, Friend and I used to play it all the time as kids.”

Caretaker had tired themselves out, now he stood limp in the hold of the henchmen, glaring daggers at Whumper. Even his stare didn’t have any real bite left to it. Whumpee looked at him with surprise written all over their face.

“Back when Caretaker was fun,” Whumper said, sliding one bullet back into the cylinder and spinning it with the palm of their hand before stopping it and sliding the cylinder back into place. Whumper grinned at Whumpee as he drew the hammer back, loading the chamber.

“I’m a good sport, Whumpee,” said Whumper handing Whumpee the gun. “You can go first.”

Whumpee went to grab the gun from Whumper but froze when they heard another gun cocking in the room. Whumper’s smile turned razor sharp.

“Just in case you get any ideas… if you try to kill me, Caretaker dies too.”

“I got it,” Whumpee said with an edge in their voice. Sick of all the threats Whumper had made in the last five minutes.

“Mmmm. Eager! Wonderful. I knew you’d be an interesting games partner.”

Caretaker cried out when Whumpee put the gun to their own head, swallowing hard. A shiver ran down Whumpee’s spine as they felt the weight of the gun in their hand.

If the shot was in the chamber they would be dead.

This would be it.

They never imagined they’d die from a stupid bet.

God this was so stupid, what were they doing?

Whumpee’s hand started to shake as the realisation slowly dawned on them. They looked at Caretaker who shook his head furiously at them, telling them not to do it.

Whumpee licked their lips trying to get some moisture back in their dry mouth enough to speak. “If I don’t do this, Whumper gets us anyways,” it was an explanation. An excuse that fell from their lips. “Thank you for everything.”

Caretaker cried out again when Whumpee pulled the trigger.

They let out the breath they were holding with a gasp as they dropped the gun to the table, trembling all over. Wild eyes went to Caretaker who had his eyes closed until he heard the gun clatter.

Whumper laughed and grabbed Whumpee’s shaking hands. “Look at that! That adrenaline spike, Whumpee! That’s how you know you’re alive. I barely get it anymore. Watch.”

As soon as the words left his lips, Whumper had the gun in his hand, while his other still held Whumpee’s and pulled the trigger without even blinking.

That stunned Whumpee more than their own turn had.

Whumper grinned and put the gun back on the table, then held out their hand. Whumpee’s eyes went down following Whumper’s movement but true to their word, not even a muscle twitched in Whumper’s hands.

“See why it’s fun now, Whumpee?” Whumper asked again, and Whumpee’s mouth went dry again, realising it was their turn. Again.

They had a one in four chance.

One in four.

25%.

Whumpee didn’t want to bet their life on the one in four chance that when they pulled the trigger they would die.

And yet, after seeing Whumper do it so casually, Whumpee found the familiar weight of the cool metal revolver in their hand once again. Caretaker mumbled out a pathetic “nnnuh” against the gag, but this time a strange calm overcame Whumpee as they pressed the barrel against their head.

They found Caretaker’s hopeless eyes and offered a smile.

“One in four. 25% chance I die, Caretaker. 75% chance I live.”

“Look at you, Whumpee,” Whumper cooed. “Playing the odds. I am so happy you decided to join me today. You are magnificent.”

Whumpee didn’t close their eyes this time.

They pulled the trigger.

The hammer shot against empty air and the recoil sent Whumpee’s hand back away from their head, letting their hand follow the movement to place the heavy hunk of metal onto the table.

“Safe again,” Whumper said, clicking his tongue against his teeth. Then he took the gun and Caretaker cried into the gag.

“-nuf! -umpr- s’enuf!”

Whumper paused this time. His eyes going to Whumpee but looking passed them.

“Someone take their gag off would you?”

Whumpee watched as someone drew the cloth down from around Caretaker’s lips and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Whumper stop this. Please. I can’t watch this. I can’t watch you die!”

Whumper didn’t move for a moment. “You mean Whumpee. You can’t watch Whumpee die.”

“I mean either of you,” Caretaker pleaded, voice genuine. “Please. Don’t do this.”

Whumper arched a brow at Whumpee. “Whumpee. Do you forfeit?”

“No,” said Whumpee. Whumper smiled.

“Sorry Caretaker. No can do.”

Whumper pulled the trigger.

Whumpee started forward, their entire body jerking at the sound. Whumper grinned at Whumpee and put the gun back on the table.

“What’re the chances Whumpee, eh?”

“Stop this! Stop! Whumpee! This is madness. It’s 50/50, you can’t logic your way out of that. Either you die or you don’t, please. Don’t. Whumpee please. Whumper! Listen to me, this is crazy.”

“I will gag you again, Caretaker. This is Whumpee’s decision.”

The words seemed so far away, muted from the blood drumming against Whumpee’s skull. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

“Fuck,” Whumpee breathed softly. Whumper’s eyes glistened when Whumpee raised their head to meet Whumper’s gaze. “You let me go first.”

“I let you go first,” Whumper repeated with a self-satisfied sigh. His grin grew to a knowing smirk, knowing this was how it would turn out all things going well. “You should have played the odds from the beginning Whumpee.”

Whumpee swallowed, eyes searching for something, something in the back of their brain. Some way they could still win, get Caretaker and themselves out of this.

Whumper let them go first. They were an idiot. The only way they could have won was to let Whumper go first, then if the game played out as it did and they came to the second last bullet Whumper would have had to stop the game and let Whumpee and Caretaker go.

Fuck!

FUCK!

Whumpee reached for the gun. Caretaker cried out. Whumpee savoured the look of surprise on Whumper’s face.

“Fifty-fifty,” said Whumpee, not trying to hide how bad their hand shook as they pressed the cool metal to their temple.

“Whumpee!”

“You’re bluffing,” Whumper said with a smile, but there was doubt behind his words. A game of chicken, Whumper had said. The game only really started when there was two rounds left unfired.

“Either I get free Caretaker and I, or I die and Caretaker—”

“Gets taken in by me,” Whumper said with a laugh. Whumpee narrowed their eyes at him. “Come on Whumpee, if you’re gone I have to take my anger out on someone.”

“You said we’re playing a game of chicken,” Whumpee argued. “If I pull the trigger and die then I didn’t lose.”

“Hmph,” Whumper mused, and maybe it was the crazy talking but Whumpee thought they sounded impressed. "If you're dead how would you know I'd keep my word?"

Whumpee narrowed their eyes and opened their mouth to reply, but Caretaker was the one to break the silence. “Whumpee, Whumpee look at me! Look at me!”

Whumpee fought to keep their gaze trained on Whumper’s face as he chewed on Whumpee’s words.

“Whumpee!”

Whumpee looked at Caretaker with sympathetic eyes. Caretaker had tear marks trailing down his cheeks which stirred up a wealth of guilt in Whumpee’s gut.

“Don’t you dare sacrifice your life for me.”

Whumpee swallowed, trying and failing to keep their voice even. “It’s my life—”

“If you do this and you die, you’re fine! What about me?! I’ll have to carry that guilt—”

“It’s my decision.”

“Really building the suspense here, Whumpee,” Whumper mused, “I’m on the edge of my seat. What a performance! You can pull that trigger now and die, or you can pull it and force my hand to let you both go. What’s worse Whumpee? Dying or living under my care again, hmm?”

Whumpee hesitated.

Whumper continued, “after all the lengths and hoops Caretaker had to jump through to get you out, you just walk back into my arms. Could you live with that guilt Whumpee?”

“Don’t listen to him, Whumpee,” Caretaker said. “He’s lying.”

Whumper’s smile was knowing as he spoke again, “we both know I’m not lying Whumpee. Caretaker’s fate was sealed from the moment he betrayed me, and he wanted you to be out. To be free from me. You come back here, you beat me at my own game you both walk free, the only thing holding you back from this happily ever after is that trigger there, with your index finger resting on it.”

“Whumpee don’t! Please. It’s not worth it.”

“Do it Whumpee. I know you want to.”

Whumpee’s hand moved faster than they thought it would as they aimed the revolver at the henchman with the gun on Caretaker. Whumper laughed at the turn of events as the henchman behind Whumpee grabbed the revolver and snatched it from their hand, keeping Whumpee restrained all the while.

“No! You fuck! Get off me—” Whumpee cried as the henchman handed the gun to Whumper. Whumper took the revolver in his hand with a small surprised laugh.

“I knew you had it in you Whumpee, but to be fair, I don’t think I would’ve pulled the trigger myself. Let’s see, shall we if you would have died or not.”

Whumper turned their body and pointed the revolver between Caretaker’s ear and the wall and squeezed the trigger. Caretaker didn’t flinch.

Whumpee did.

The chamber was empty.

The chamber was empty... Whumpee could have done it. They could have freed Caretaker, they could have freed themselves if only they had the fucking nerve of it.

“Whumpee,” Caretaker said. “It’s okay Whumpee. I wouldn’t have done it either, Whumpee. Whumpee?”

“Were they all empty?” Whumpee asked, voice blank and devoid of any emotion.

Whumper smiled. “Of course they weren’t. Watch.”

Whumper pulled the trigger again and this time Caretaker flinched and fell as the shot went off right at his ear, knocking his centre of balance off. Caretaker fell like a stone but was stopped by the Henchmen from falling flat on his face.

Whumpee started when they saw the blood trickle from Caretaker’s ear, furiously pawing at the henchman holding them back.

“You fucking dick!” Whumpee cried as Whumper reloaded his revolver whistling quite happy to himself. Whumpee twisted and turned and tried to get the arms holding them off so they could scratch Whumper’s eyes out of his stupid fucking skull.

When Whumper was finished loading the gun he checked the chamber and lowered it so Whumpee could see there was a round loaded before cocking the gun and pointing it at Caretaker’s head.

Whumpee immediately stilled and Whumper stopped whistling.

“There we go," Whumper cooed. His voice no longer jovial and mocking, but back to Whumper. The scary Whumper that had kidnapped Whumpee and tortured them everyday. The cold calculating monster. "You haven’t forgotten your training, of course, you’ll have to re-learn some of it, but I think this arrangement will be good for all of us. Something new.”

Caretaker was still half held up by the Henchmen on either side of him, face pale, eyes unfocused. He wouldn’t be able to move suddenly if he had to, and Whumpee was too tired to fight anymore, the adrenaline leaving their body in the same rush that it came with until Whumpee was deflated, body exhausted.

Whumper uncocked the gun, drawing the hammer up and clicking the safety on before holstering it again beneath his jacket. He walked around the table to where Whumpee was still held sitting on the chair and patted Whumpee’s cheeks lightly.

“No need to be a sore loser, Whumpee, you agreed to my terms. Fair is fair,” Whumper’s hand tightened on Whumpee’s cheeks tilting their head up to look Whumper in the eye. “I get you both. Bring Caretaker to the car, Whumpee’s coming with me and Danny here.”

One of the Henchmen handed Whumper an extra pair of handcuffs that he turned over in his hand and clicked open, grinning down at Whumpee. Whumpee was dragged to their feet, Whumper taking Whumpee’s wrist and slapping the metal cuff around their wrist until it bit into Whumpee’s skin. Whumper turned Whumpee until their back was to him and tightened the other cuff unkindly tight.

To add insult to injury, Whumper pulled on the taut chain yanking Whumpee back unbalanced into Whumper’s chest.

The perfect place for Whumper to whisper: “can’t have you running away again, can I?”

Whumpee remained stubbornly silent.

“Whumpee, come on now, the silent treatment? Maybe I should get you a leash and a collar, like a dog so you won't be able to run, hmm? You know, this little game of ours is only drawn even now.”

Whumpee stilled at the words. “What?”

“I’ll explain on the way to the car,” Whumper said, pushing Whumpee forward to walk out the door, hand on Whumpee’s upper arm forcing them on. “I’m an easy man to please, Whumpee. I like to be entertained. That’s why I got you, you were so malleable and vulnerable. You hung onto every word I said just because I gave you attention…”

Whumpee bristled at the reminder of how they were before they met Whumper but stayed quiet, allowing Whumper to finish his little Villainous, victory speech.

“Now could I have chosen someone else? Yes, but they wouldn’t have the brain you had Whumpee. I could tell you were like me from the moment I laid eyes on you, and today has proven it. You were bored with life before me, and you needed something to entertain you. Something to fight against, something to live for.”

“So I took you. We have our fun, but you beat me. You and your clever little cunning brain found a way to defeat me, you used my best friend's kindness against me and you managed to escape.”

“That wasn’t a game,” Whumpee hissed, “you were torturing me.”

“And wasn’t it so fun? I bet you’re just dying to see what I have in store for you now, but our Russian roulette makes us even. I guess you could say that this is the start of our third game together; two worthy opponents, battling it out against each other. Except this time,” Whumper said opening the boot of the car and shoving Whumpee in. Whumpee landed awkwardly on their shoulder, hands restrained uselessly behind them as they stared up at a grinning Whumper.

“This time, I don’t have a friend you can use against me. They’ll be right there with you, a new contender. Extra fun. Aren’t you excited, Whumpee? Maybe this time the roles are reversed and now I have a friend I can use against you. Get comfortable, I've moved my little estate and bought some land in the country. It's going to be a long, long ride.”

Before Whumpee could reply Whumper slammed the boot closed and they were buried in darkness. The sound of the empty chamber firing no bullet replaying in their mind like a broken record.

"Caretaker," Whumpee whispered into the darkness, "I'm so sorry."

*~*~*~*~*

Winter whumperland #3

@amonthofwhump

[ashintheairlikesnow]

so... how about that jameson au though

(Anon is referencing an AU where Nanda turns up alive, I wrote a short piece on the concept here)

CW: Whumpee returned to whumper, captor bonding, dubcon (mostly implied? mostly), grief

Nanda's thumb and finger rub along the back of Jameson's neck, and he closes his eyes, tipping his chin forward to bare the skin more fully to the familiar touch. The leather seat beneath him feels impossibly soft. The car is new, but the scent of it isn't.

"What do they call you now?" Nanda asks, carefully casual, steering into a turn without signaling. His car, sleek and silver and looking somehow incredibly futuristic and oddly sexual, glides along the road. "In this house I found you in?"

Jameson doesn't look up. He can feel his skin prickling, the hair on his arms standing up. At the same time, he's shivery, feels a warmth pulsing through him. "Jameson," He says. His voice is hoarse. It's always hoarse now. For so long...

"Jameson?" Nanda's voice sounds curious, only curious. His fingernail scrapes lightly along Jameson's nape, edging the softest baby hairs there. Jameson's breath catches. "Like the whiskey?"

He swallows. Custard and blood, a voice he thought he'd never taste again. Vanilla and copper, somehow swimming together. It's not a good taste, but it's one his life revolved around once. A taste he loved, sometimes hated, sometimes both in equal measure. "Yeah." He drops to a whisper. "I was kept in a... a house for a while. I could see these bottles... he'd empty the bottles, and line them up. Jamison Whiskey, always. I thought it-... it sounded like a good name."

Nanda pauses. "... you read the bottles?"

Oh, right. Nanda never knew.

Jameson hitches in a breath. They're still slipping through the city like an eel through ocean, winding around neighborhoods as if avoiding beds of green plants waving in the water. The lights are purple in some spots and bright in others. Jameson wonders if Nanda's taking him-

... what used to be home.

"I read the bottles," He whispers. "I could-... I could always read."

Another long pause. Nanda glances behind him, then pulls over - still without using his turn signal, and that sure hasn't changed. The car's tires crunch along the gravel beside the road, then settle into a rumbling smoothness as they move into grass. Nanda cuts the lights, and leaves he and Jameson sitting in total darkness, without even a streetlight to see by. Only the dim hint of moonlight and stars.

"You weren't supposed to be able to read."

"I... I know. But I can."

"You never told me you could." Nanda's palm is heavy and hot on his neck, now. Jameson twists his fingers into his sweatpants to keep his hands from shaking as Nanda's voice drops low, too. "You lied to me."

"I was-... scared to tell you."

"You should have told me anything. Everything. There shouldn't have been anything I didn't know."

"No, I know, but... fuck. What if you had them take it away?" He looks, now. He finds the courage to raise his head, to turn and look Nanda right in his eyes. They're just a gleam in the night. "I needed it. I, I'm alive because I can read. If I couldn't, and you died, I wouldn't have... been able to read, to, to know-"

"You lied." No anger. Just calm certainty. "To me."

"... yes. I lied." He jerks away from Nanda's hand finally, raking a hand back through his hair, hating it again. It used to be thick, and kind of pretty actually. Used to look good. Even this long after escaping Robert, it still grows in unevenly, different lengths. And some places never grew back at all, so he has to grow it out to cover the bald spots up, but then the uneven bits are obvious, and... "I fucking lied, okay?! I had to protect myself. I had to, to keep safe."

"From me?" Nanda's voice is empty of emotion. It's worse than anger could ever be. "You had to protect yourself from me?"

"More than anyone, you fucking asshole!"

He's going to cry again. He forces the heat of the tears back, lets them turn into a twist of acid anger in his chest alongside his racing heart. He doesn't lower his gaze. He looks Nanda right in the face.

He thought he'd never see this face again.

"You-" His voice cracks, and he fights to get it back. Not to go silent now, when he has to say this, the thing he's always held inside. There's never been a grave he could cry at, there's never been a body to bare his heart to. Not since-

"You could have killed me yourself, and I'd have let you do it." The words come out too quickly, they run together and he's breathless at the end of the sentence. He grabs at Nanda's hand with both of his, holding so tightly he can feel Nanda's bones move, can hear the slightest hiss of breath as he winces. "And you might have. Even if all you did was send me back, they'd wipe it all away again. I'd lose too much, I'd lose you, you shit, and I didn't want to lose you. When you died, I thought-"

"I wasn't dead-"

"I didn't fucking know that!" He can't scream anymore, not like he used to. His voice only turns to wind, the rasp of an oncoming storm. Nanda is a rumble of thunder, and Jameson the leaves shivering on branches about to blow down and die. "If they found me, they'd blame me, and they'd send me back, for being defective, for being a fucking reject, for-... they'd take you away. They'd take you away from me, from my head."

He pulls Nanda's hand to him, leans forward, his forehead resting against the warmth of Nanda's palm, those fingers curved slightly over the top of his head. Like a god giving benediction, maybe. Like he could be lifted up or shoved off a cliff with just one motion.

"I couldn't lose you, not because I wasn't right. I couldn't fucking lose you. If you knew I could read, if you sent me back-... if they sent me back after you died-... they'd take you. I couldn't, I couldn't lose you. I couldn't. You're mine, god damn it, you were mine!"

"Pet-"

"I had to keep you mine." He drops his grip on Nanda's hand, but it doesn't move away, and neither does he. "I had to keep you in my head, because-... because if you were gone, and I didn't know you, then why was I ever here?"

He's talking about Nanda, and he isn't. There's some other face beneath it, another voice, another taste. A smile he'd known from his first memories, a loss he couldn't recall because it had been a loss too great to bear losing.

He doesn't let that other face surface. Some part of him knows the name but he holds it deep, deep down. "I'm what I am because I thought it was okay to lose, to forget, but when you were gone, I, I couldn't, I couldn't lose again. I couldn't forget you again. Don't you fucking understand that?"

Nanda stares at him, slightly wide-eyed, an expression Jameson has never seen before in his handsome, angular face. There's so much more silver in his beard now than there used to be. But they both look so much older, so much different, now.

The silence draws out, between them, and Jameson twists. Lightning threatens. There's no rumble of thunder, only the weight of something about to break overhead and if it does, he'll drown.

"Well?" His voice shakes, but he covers it up with rage. He always covers up his fear with anger. It's the only way he's lived this long. It's safe and easy. "Lost your fucking voice now, all of a sudden? Huh? You gonna fucking say something to me, you piece of shit, you were dead and how goddamn dare you come back and take me like nothing ever happened, like I didn't-... like I didn't have to live without you, for so long without, like I-"

He never finishes the sentence.

"Shut up," Nanda snaps. It's a growl, a snarl, and Jameson thrills to the sound of his voice. His hands are there, they shove Jameson to the side and then back. Nanda hits something along the side of his seat and the back drops flat. Jameson gasps as his head bounces back against the headrest, and then Nanda is on top of him again, yanking his shirt up with a ferocity that feels like the cloth burns along his scarred skin as it goes. His wrists are tangled in the cotton and Nanda grunts, irritated, and leaves it there as he works at Jameson's sweatpants, yanking them down off his hips until he's nearly naked, on his back in the passenger seat of a car, on the side of the road.

"Nanda-"

"I said shut the fuck up-"

Nanda's hand claps over his mouth, and his protests are muffled at first. Then they aren't protests at all, as Nanda's lips are hot against his neck, and then his teeth dig and his tongue works against the reddening skin he's just bitten.

Nanda's hand closes around him, between his legs, and Jameson cries out, all but levitating off the seat into scorching touch. He's dizzy, with the way all his blood suddenly shifts to meet that hand. He can barely think. Nanda's strokes are rough and fast, and Jameson rolls into them, again and again. All his thoughts are washed away by the lust that floods him.

Somewhere under that, though...

He's still afraid.

It could end any second.

It could all have been a dream.

This might have been the wrong choice.

Or it wasn't a choice at all.

Nanda yanks his hand back and Jameson whimpers at the loss, whines like an animal in heat, only to have Nanda grab him and roughly turn him over, throwing him back down. They're closed in this car, the space too small for it. His elbow bangs on something, his feet are pressing up against the rough carpet under the dashboard. But that hand is off his mouth, then. He can breathe, and he can make a sound that isn't entirely human as Nanda's mouth is back on his neck, the heat of his chest against Jameson's shoulder blades, the hardness of him pressed just where Jameson wants it, always wanted it

Didn't always want it-

"Nanda... please-... just wait-"

"I don't wait for you," Nanda whispers against his ear, nips at the shell. He can't stop himself from moaning at the feeling, as broken as that sound is now from his ruined throat. "You wait for me, when I say. You don't tell me when."

Jameson's eyes open, then. He's staring into an expanse of stars through the back windshield, and the sky is so goddamn empty between them, isn't it? Between the tiniest points of light, dead suns, and maybe their planets still revolve around them in the darkness.

"... I was learning," He whispers.

Nanda pauses. His breath is deafening against Jameson's ear. "What?"

"... I was learning how to say when."

He's a planet orbiting a dead star.

"Pet-"

"... I loved you."

"Loved?"

He's crying again. Goddamnit, he's crying again, and his shoulders shake with the sobs he can't hold back any longer. Nanda exhales and drops, weight against him, reassuring and real, alive. "I still love you, but I love-... I love-... I loved that I learned to be-... to b-be Jameson, fuck, stop it stop it stop crying, you shit, you fucking, just stop fucking crying!"

"Sssshhhhh. It's okay." Nanda's voice is a rumble, and the world shakes a little, gentle as a shower of rain. But he can't taste the rain here, not so far away from Allyn.

He can't taste the rain, only copper and sweet.

The stars blur into nothing, they're lost to the darkness when he tries to look through the tears. Even if his vision clears, it isn't even the stars he'd be seeing.

"Nanda... there's someone else."

He only sees the memory of what's already been lost.

[dioles-writes]

“ADELIO”

Masterlist | Credits go to @jiphenn | Characters:Felix (he/him), Una (he/they), Adelio (they/he), Wilder (he/him), Shehani (she/her), Winola (she/her), Akali (he/him), Alzena (she/her), Nyssa (she/her), Maddox (he/him), Ms Castro (she/her), ??? (he/him), Kuali’i (he/him), ??? (they/them)

“Boy, this is interesting.”

Una hummed to themself, looking up from their newspaper and at the rest of the gang, their gray eyes glittering. “What is it?” Felix asked, discarding the comic book that he had engrossed himself in to lean curiously over his shoulder.

“‘Young survivor looking for Diantha Rose Board Game Club.’ Adelio Castro, a survivor from the Diantha Rose Diole Attack, recently woke up from his nine-month coma.” Una read out loud before glancing back up at the others again. “You guys know him?”

Felix snatched the paper, his eyes going wide. “ADELIO?!”

“I’m guessing that’s a yes.” Una said, peering over Felix’s shoulder as he furiously scanned the article to read the rest of it for everyone to hear.

“In an interview with Wolf News, the young man says, ‘I know it sounds fabricated, but the club aren’t bad people. They had nothing to do with the attack.’ Despite his horrible injuries, resulting in a limb amputation, why does the young man seem to defend the Diantha Rose Board Game Club?” Una continued. “He even stated, ‘My friend Winola, she was part of the club, but she still risked her life to save me. I don’t think any of them knew about what was going to happen that night other than the attacker.’ He mentions Winola Higgins, the Diole who killed her father and three siblings. Even going so far as to say she ‘saved him’.”

Everyone turned to Winola. Her expression was, as always, unreadable.

“He left a final message during the interview. This message was however, not for the public, instead, it was for the Board Game Club. ‘If you ever need me for anything, don’t hesitate to come find me, I know you can.’” Una finished.

Felix couldn’t believe what he was reading. He didn’t know what came as more of a shock, the fact that Adelio was still alive, or the fact that he wanted to help them, instead of kill them like everyone else.

The last they’d seen of him, he was unconscious, blood seeping through his clothes, his face pale and tight with pain as Cora went to help him. Felix hadn’t thought he’d made it through the night, much less the past few months - not with an injury so severe. The fact that he had woken up from a nine-month coma was a miracle in itself. And the fact that he was offering to help them, after everything…

Well, Felix wasn’t sure he could believe it.

Adelio had every reason to hate Dioles - to hate the Board Game Club. They had been lied to for months, not even aware of the fact that they weren’t even a part of a real club. Then, the night of the Winter Concert, Gunther had brutally exploded their arm, leaving them in a coma and permanently disabled. That was as good of a reason as any to hate Dioles, not to mention this wasn’t the first attack to wreak havoc in their life, and their family.

So why… was he so determined to prove the Board Game Club’s innocence?

“So who’s this Adelio guy?” Una asked, looking around.

“He was in the Board Game Club with a few of us.” Felix said.

“So he’s a Diole?” Shehani asked.

“No, human.” Felix knit his eyebrows together, beginning to explain. “January made a fake one. Gunther, Akali, Alzena, Rory, Kuali’i, and Nyssa weren’t in it though.”

“Oh, why’d you need a fake club?” Una asked.

“So it didn’t look suspicious.”

Felix remembered how he ruined his relationship with Adelio the day of the club fair, trying to convince him not to join. He had practically begged with them. Guilt sprung up in his gut at the thought of their face so full of hurt, smile fading the longer he frantically tried to explain the Board Game Club away.

“Well if people find that out won’t they accuse him of being a Diole?” Una cocked his head.

The realization hit Felix like a semi truck. Slowly, he turned to face Una, the colour draining from his face. “He’s going to die.”

His mouth went dry. “That idiot just gave a whole interview about how pro-Diole he is, if they find out they’re an ex-member of the Board Game Club, they’re going to murder him.”

The room went dead silent.

“Well they’re nothing we can do about it.” Wilder stated matter-of-factly.

“We can’t just let him die!” Felix shot back, furrowing his brows at Wilder. He wouldn’t allow himself to have more blood upon his shoulders, wouldn’t stand back and watch as another one of his friends was taken from him. Not again. Adelio had believed in him, believed in all of them. He had to have realized what this interview would mean for him. Yet he still chose to go through with it in hopes that the Board Game Club would receive his message. They had risked everything with this, had put their life on the line.

And Felix was determined to not let him down.

“What’re you gonna do? bring him here?” Wilder’s grating voice pulled him from his thoughts. His mouth was drawn in a sharp line as he glared at him, his stare borderline pure hatred. (Not that it was a look Felix wasn’t well-used to receiving by now. Practically every time he so much as opened his mouth he could expect a scowling glare coming from Wilder’s direction.)

“Uh, YEAH.” Felix argued. “If they turn on him and start accusing him of being a Diole he’s basically in the same boat as us.”

The room went quiet for about two seconds. “I think that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

Felix crossed his arms defensively. “Well I’m not just gonna stand around and watch my friends die.” He snapped, levelling his stare.

“Yeah, like you helped him in the first place when he was dangling from Gunther’s grasp.” Wilder deadpanned.

That hit a nerve.

Felix narrowed his eyes. “I did more than you.”

“I’m guessing you weren’t running around the entire school.” Wilders eyes were practically slits at this point, his face twisted up in an angry scowl.

“I was actually helping Avil fight Gunther. Where were you, huh.”

“Maybe turning on all the taps and breaking the fucking pipes on the floor so my girlfriend could actually have water to use. By the time I got back all I saw you doing was getting your ass dragged away by your sister.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t run away from me I could’ve portalled us all to safety.” Felix glared back.

“Maybe you should’ve been doing something useful instead of being carried away while everyone else fought and ran away.” Wilder shot back pointedly.

“I WAS.”

“Woah guys, let’s all relax and focus on the bigger problem.” Una interrupted, reading over the newspaper again.

Felix scowled. His face was flushed red in anger, hands clenched, creasing the paper. Still, he obliged, biting back his urge to sock Wilder’s annoying, ugly face and going quiet.

“So is he like, good at anything?” Una asked again in regard to Adelio.

“He was really good at robotics and sports,” Felix remembered. “Uh, Gunther obliterated his arm though-“

“Oh!” Una did not think Adelio was really going to be of much help, but he didn’t say that. “Does he have family?” He asked, quickly changing the topic.

“Uh, I know he had a younger sister.”

“He had a mom.” Winola piped in.

“So a mom and a sister…. I don’t think they’d like to come down with him.”

“Well if they’re accusing him of being a Diole will he really have a choice?”

“Well instead of dragging him down here, the most logical thing to do is try to prove his innocence.” Alzena cut in, picking at her nails.

“And how are we gonna do that?” Wilder asked.

“We’ll probably have to do something that makes it look like we’re against him.” Akali said, leaning forwards.

“Wouldn’t that just make us look even worse to the public?”

“Well it’s not like they’ll be seeing us in a good light anytime soon.”

“So what’re we gonna do, attack his family?” Wilder evidently thought this was a terrible idea.

“No, we just have to make a scene.”

“Like what?” Felix asked with a frown. He was willing to do whatever it took to keep Adelio safe, but to completely ostracize himself from his former friend wasn’t his favourite plan. Adelio was the only one that seemed to be on their side since the Winter Concert. He wasn’t exactly ready to throw that away.

“Maybe we should just talk to them first.” Nyssa suggested.

“What, do I just portal to him-”

“Well that’s our only way to get to Adelio if any of you guys wanna salvage your relationship with him.”

“Well then, looks like you guys are gonna go for a little trip!” Una grinned.

Felix couldn’t help the excitement that came from those words. For the first time in months, he was going to leave the constraints of the base and go back out into the real world again. He was going to see Adelio again. He hadn’t even really realized it, but he missed them. After all this time of assuming they were dead, he was relieved to find out that they were okay and alive. Glad that they would get to see each other again, to talk again.

“So who’s going?” Alzena asked.

“Me.” Felix’s answer was instant, albeit obvious.

“I’ll go.” Winola offered.

“I wanna go.” Maddox said.

“Then I’ll go too.” Alzena added.

“I think four people is good, we don’t wanna draw too much attention.” Una said.

“Are we going now?” Alzena asked, looking towards Felix expectantly.

Felix stood up with a nod. “The sooner the better.”

“Let’s hope he’s home.” She mumbled, standing up and walking towards him.

Together, the four of them disappeared through the portal.

When they reappeared on the other side, they stood in the middle of Adelio’s little home, greeted by a comfy atmosphere, warm decorations, and a little altar in the corner. It was a stark difference to the base; dark, cold, encrusted with dried rust-brown blood from floor to ceiling, inescapable no matter what room you turned into. Adelio’s house was soft and welcoming, somewhere comfortable you could relax in. It was… calm. The exact opposite Felix had come to expect in his daily life. It was a nice change, he thought. Slowly, he glanced around, taking a few steps inside.

A bullet whipped past his head.

It collided into the wall with a loud bang, the sound of glass shattering instantly breaking Felix’s illusion of peace. “What are you doing here?! Get out!” A voice screamed.

Felix flinched, eyes darting towards the sound of the voice. Adelio’s sweet mom stood in the hallway, although she did not look so sweet when she had a gun levelled at their heads, her face set with a fiery determination that froze all of them in place.

Felix stared at her with wide eyes, too shocked to move, absolutely frozen in fear as he stared down the barrel of the gun. Out of all the possible scenarios he had been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been this.

Ms. Castro’s gaze flickered around the room, scanning each of their faces before landing on Winola. For a split second, her expression wavered, her eyes going wide, before hardening again. “I said what are you doing here?!” She repeated, her finger tightening around the trigger.

That broke Felix out of his stupor. “Uh, we’re here for, uhm, Adelio.” He mumbled, his voice coming out shakier than he would have liked to admit. “We got his uh, message.”

“Why did you come now?” Her eyes narrowed as she sharply enunciated the last word.

“Uh, we think he might be in danger.” Felix said, eying her gun nervously. “I’m sorry. I don’t- I didn’t have any other way of reaching them.”

“You THINK?”

A large crash, followed by an explosion, sounded from outside.

Their heads all snapped towards the noise. What…?

“Follow me.” Ms. Castro mumbled, before turning and sprinting down the hall.

She led them towards the basement door, quickly swinging it open and ushering them to go down. “You kids chose the worst time to come.”

“What’s going on?” Alzena asked, running down the stairs after her.

“Diole attack.”

“Where’s Adelio?” Maddox asked.

Ms. Castro fell silent.

Felix’s stomach filled with dread and he turned to stare at her with a horrified look. Were they already too late…?

“Do you need to send him a message?” She asked.

“Is he… alive?” Felix asked uncertainly, fearing the worst. This wasn’t going at all how he had expected. He hadn’t even considered the thought of a Diole attack - and all of them were definitely not prepared for one.

“Yes, he’s fine.” Ms. Castro replied. “Do you need to send him a message?”

“Where is he?” Felix asked, relief flooding through his veins.

“You don’t need to know that.” Ms. Castro snapped.

“Sorry.” Felix mumbled, glancing around. “We came here because we thought he might be in danger after the whole interview, but uh-“ He cut himself off. Diole attacks were most definitely worse.

A large crash resounded through the house.

Ms. Castro’s eyes flickered towards the basement door, her grip on the gun tightening. “Are you good guys?”

Felix hesitantly nodded yes.

“Then go get rid of the Dioles upstairs. You can talk to Adelio if you do that.”

Felix didn’t wait to be told twice. He quickly spun on his heels, sprinting back up the stairs, Winola at his feet.

Alzena turned to Maddox hesitantly, looking doubtful about so recklessly running into battle without even an idea about what they were getting themselves into; nonetheless, the two of them turned their backs on Ms. Castro and followed Felix and Winola upstairs.

Felix crashed through the door, not even having the time to blink or catch his bearings before a blade went flying at his head.

He managed to open a portal in the split-second before he was reduced to a headless body abandoned in the rubble, sending the blade flying towards his attacker. But just as fast as he dodged it, several more blades filled its place, shooting towards him.

Felix opened up another portal, larger this time, sending the blades out into the void. Before more could come flying towards him, he slipped through another portal, dropping down next to who - or what - was sending the knives towards him.

A fist went flying at his face the second he landed. Felix’s reflexes kicked in, a portal redirecting the punch before he even really had time to think about what he was doing. Smoke and debris filled the room, clouding his vision and making it hard to focus. He couldn’t see anything in this dust, much less where the attacker was.

He slipped into another portal before they could advance again, landing squarely on their back, his arms wrapping around their neck and starting to squeeze.

In an instant he felt something sharp dig into his side. Felix sucked in a sharp breath, blood seeping through his shirt. Fuck.

He portalled a knife into his hand, slashing it across their face with all his strength. It was as if their head was made of pure rock, chipping away at the blade. His attack hadn’t even seemed to affect them in the slightest. “That’s not a nice way to greet old friends, is it now, Felix?”

Felix’s blood ran cold. He stumbled away, his eyes going wide. That voice….

He knew that voice. He didn’t think it was one he’d ever forget, not as long as he lived. It was a voice he hadn’t heard in a long time, a voice that haunted his dreams and nightmares. A voice that he hadn’t heard since….

No. No. It couldn’t be possible. It couldn’t really be-

Felix’s head felt foggy as he slowly crept away, terror driving his actions, screaming at him to run, just run far, far away. He couldn’t seem to control his legs, stuck between the urge to run and to fight. His heart pattered in his chest, the sound of its rhythmic beats so loud that it drowned out all sounds of fighting and explosions around him.

“Man, I thought you’d be a little more excited to see me.” They - no, Felix corrected himself, he - sounded almost disappointed.

Felix’s instincts took over at the sound of his voice again, a portal slicing through his stomach. The shadowy figure making its way through the dust did not lurch, did not give the slightest indication it could even feel the portal. Felix couldn’t even hear it pass through skin.

Slowly, the smoke started to clear….

Felix was met with bright green eyes towering over him. The same bright green eyes he remembered so clearly. The bright green eyes he thought he’d never have to see again, not alive. Green eyes that drove pure terror through his veins. Green eyes that belonged to the one person who ripped everything away from him.

Gunther stood before him, Kuali’i at his side.

“Surprised?” He grinned down at the four of them, taking in their four matching expressions of horror with delight.

He looked different from when they last saw him. Though his hair was the same style and length, still the wispy black-and-white mullet Felix used to think was so cool (just like everything else about Gunther), countless jagged scars now littered his body. Almost every inch of visible skin was marred by them. Not only that, but his hands looked rough and more calloused than before, and his left eye was glassy and disfigured.

“You-“ The words died on his tongue.

Felix was frozen to the spot, shock seeping into his core. He should’ve been running, should’ve been fighting, yet he found himself stuck, unable to move. When he finally managed to drag his mouth from off from where it hung at his feet, his voice came out as shaky and weak, more a question than a statement, trembling and choking over his words. “You’re supposed to be DEAD.”

“You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did ya?” Gunther said with another grin, as if this whole thing was almost amusing to him.

Taking advantage of their shock, he transformed his arm, swiftly attacking all of them.

Felix disappeared through a portal, only to be caught by a knife to the gut the second he appeared on the other side. Kuali’i stared down at him, his pale red eyes emotionless.

Felix portalled another knife to his hand, aiming a shot back at his ex-friend. “What are you doing here?!” He screamed, anger boiling to the surface. Gunther was supposed to be gone, he was supposed to be dead. Why did he have to come back, why now? Why couldn’t just one thing go right in Felix’s life for once? “Vincent said you planned to get yourself killed! Why the fuck are you still here?!”

Kuali’i dodged Felix’s attack, aiming a punch at his face. He was a lot stronger and agile than he remembered. Despite Felix’s months and months of training at the base - with two former Top Five’s at that - he was still easily overpowered by him.

“We’re on a mission, aren’t we Kuali’i?” Gunther smiled and turned away from Winola to look at his partner, but Kuali’i didn’t even so much as acknowledge that he spoke, staying stone-faced.

Felix opened a portal to deflect Kuali’i’s punch back onto him, but Kuali’i quickly retracted his hand before he could hit himself. “How the fuck are you alive?” Felix screamed at Gunther. “January crushed you!”

“We all have our own little secrets.” Gunther said with a small grin, advancing into Alzena and Maddox now that he was finished with Winola.

Kuali’i swept Felix’s feet from under him, and he fell into a portal, landing back onto Kuali’i’s shoulders. He wasted no time, attempting to slit his neck in one swift motion.

Kuali’i dodged again. The rate he was moving at seemed to be impossible.

Gunther started to pummel Alzena and Maddox. They were no match against him, not even having the strength to block his repeated attacks.

Felix aimed a portal at Kuali’i’s leg, attempting to mutilate it into his shoulder, but Kuali’i, once again, effortlessly dodged. He swung Felix off of his back and punched him in the face, a large crack resounding as his fist made contact with his head. Felix stumbled back, managing to fall into a portal, but blood poured into his eyes, making it impossible to see. He glanced around wildly, disoriented. They were going to die.

He hastily opened up a portal for the four of them to escape through. He could get Adelio and his family to safety as soon as they arrived at the base, but even with the four of them against only two, they were greatly overpowered. They had to get out of here.

A hand closed around his neck.

Gunther grabbed him and Alzena by their throats before they could crawl away. Just as fast, Kuali’i surged forwards, grabbing Winola and kicking Maddox, knocking him over and resting his foot atop his head. Maddox groaned, blood smeared across his face, gushing out of his nose and dripping onto the ground beside him.

“You think you can get away that easily?” Gunther asked, his voice low, grinning widely.

Felix created a portal through his hand in a desperate attempt to get away, but it simply flashed before him, passing through Gunther’s wrist, almost as if there was nothing to chop off in the first place.

“I’m gonna finish what I started.” Gunther’s eyes darkened as his grip on them tightened. Felix could hear Winola gasping for breath behind him as Kuali’i strangled her, simultaneously crushing Maddox’s head under his foot.

Felix was trapped.

It was as if he was back in the crumbling remains of the school, the sounds of screaming and gunfire echoing around him as rubble rained down in the audience, Gunther’s claws closing around him and squeezing.

He felt just as puny and helpless as he did nine months ago, as if no time has passed at all since he’d left the burning crisps of Diantha Rose High School. He was still the useless, weak kid desperately fighting a losing battle against someone he would never be able to beat. The hours and hours he spent training meant nothing, not against Gunther’s pure power and strength. He was nothing against him.

His vision started to blur, Gunther’s grinning face fading in and out of focus as he choked, clawing at his neck in pure desperation.

Everything started to go black, his arms falling limply at his side. I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t-

“Stand back Gunther, Kuali’i.”

A voice boomed through the sounds of screaming and falling debris. Suddenly the pressure on Felix’s neck ceased, as he collapsed on the ground in a heap, choking and heaving for air alongside Alzena. Gunther and Kuali’i immediately stepped back, looking towards the voice obediently.

Felix weakly scrambled over to Maddox and Winola. They were both bleeding and out of it, Gunther and Kuali’i’s combined attacks leaving them curled up on the ground, barely conscious, but fortunately - alive.

“Are you Dioles?” The voice called out through the dust. The air grew colder as they stepped closer and closer to the group.

“Yes.” Felix coughed out, looking shakily towards the voice.

Blood and smoke clouded his vision, making the figure appear foggy as they continued to approach them through the debris. “Come with us.”

Felix slung Maddox and Winola across his shoulders, letting out a hysterical laugh.

They stood there, staring at him for a moment before their gaze flickered around the ruins of Adelio’s home. “Kuali’i, check upstairs. Gunther, go to the basement.” Their gaze returned to Felix’s shaking, bloodied body. “Why do you laugh?”

Felix picked up Alzena last. “I’m not going to Paradise with you.” He sneered, spitting Paradise like the word was made of pure poison.

“Suit yourselves.” Whoever this was didn’t seem to want to fight. Instead, they turned their back on the group and made their way back outside into the sunny street.

Felix was happy to leave the stranger behind. He portalled to Ms. Castro, landing in the basement again.

He collapsed, Alzena, Maddox and Winola tumbling from his arms, his body too beat-up and bruised to bear their weight any longer.

Gunfire rang out from in front of him, bullets zipping in all directions. Ms. Castro had her gun held up high, as she fired bullet after bullet at Gunther.

Felix quickly dropped Maddox, Alzena and Winola into a portal, safely transporting them back to the base before staggering forwards to help Ms. Castro.

The bullets just kept passing through Gunther, colliding with the wall behind him and leaving behind no real damage. He laughed, looking back at Felix with a wide smile before attacking Ms. Castro.

Before Felix could properly register what he was doing, he was leaping in between the two of them, roughly shoving Ms. Castro into a portal, using his body to shield her from the attack.

A tentacle impaled Felix straight through his stomach.

He let out an ear-piercing scream. Every nerve in his body lit up on fire, pain shooting through his torso, exploding across his body.

The tentacle disappeared, leaving him with a giant, gaping hole inside of him. Felix gagged, gasping for breath, as his legs finally buckled from underneath him. With the last bit of his strength, he opened a portal, leaving behind Gunther and Adelio as he fell into the base.

“GUNTHER.” He rasped, collapsing onto the ground into a ball, coughing and gasping for air as blood gushed out of him from all directions. He could feel himself fading away, could feel himself dying.

His eyes started to roll up into his head, and with his last seconds of consciousness, he managed to choke out three words.

“GUNTHER IS ALIVE.”

Winola belongs to @sleepsloooop || Una, Adelio, Wilder, Shehani, Akali, Alzena, Nyssa, Maddox, Ms Castro, Gunther, Kuali’i, and Seijun belong to @jiphenn

[seetheothersideofparadise]

Give me a Whumpee who escaped from their Whumper and got them arrested. Over two years pass and they heal, they feel more like themselves again, until one day Whumpee is just leaving work when they see a news headline that makes their blood run cold.

Whumper escaped from prison.

Whumpee rushes home, ready to go on lockdown and hope that Whumper gets caught again soon or they may never leave their home. They get home, they start locking up the doors, but then there’s someone behind them, wrapping their arms around Whumpee as if greeting an old friend, and asking, “Did you miss me?”

Bonus points if Caretaker hears the news and rushes to Whumpee’s house, only to find the place ransacked, Whumpee missing, and a message written on the walls reading, “Too slow :)”

[bedtimescenarios]

Recaptured living weapon Whumpee who is about to face the consequences of their escape. And when Whumper brings them back into that painfully familiar room, when they calmly take out the whip, Whumpee knows precisely what to do.

Their feet take them to the middle of the room, and they kneel, methodically disposing of their shirt. As their shoulders roll back into a straightened position, they can practically feel Whumper's gaze burning into the back of their head. A sadistic, eyes-only smile, knowing that even though Whumpee was physically free for some time, they never truly escaped.

[lumpywhump]

The sheer panic and pain of whumpee being recaptured!

its something whumpee has always feared, and now their nightmare is real. When whumper grabs them from behind, knife to the throat, hand to the back of their head. Whumpee took self defense classes with caretaker because of their paranoia. Whumpee tried whatever they can. They stomped on whumper's foot. No effect. They try to headbutt whumper, but their hand is in the way. They try to knock out whumpee's knee. No effect. Whumper just chuckles at their attempts. Whumpe is getting desperate. They drop all their training and just tries to do whatever they can to get away. They start screaming and sobbing for help. No one can hear them though. Whumper isn't that careless. So whumper lets them tell as much as they want. It's cute that they think they can get away. Whumpee pulls at the hand with the knife. Whumper is too strong and too big. They flail against whumper. Finally, their sobs quiet and their attacks cease. Whumpee is exhausted and helpless. Whumpee leans back on whumpers chest unable to hold themself up any more. Whumper leans down, their voice curling around whumpee's ear. "Are you ready to come home?" All whumpee can do is nod.

[letitbehurt]

Dog-catcher poles being used to manhandle Whumpee.

Wire choking off air when Whumpee fights or fails to move fast enough, easily cutting through the skin. Hands bound behind their back so that they can’t grab the pole being used to drag them along. Whumper(s) keeping their distance because watch it, this one bites—

[whitecoatwhump]

Today’s vibe:

That moment in recapture whump when a defiant whumpee goes from “You aren’t taking me back; I won’t let you!” to “Please don’t take me back. Please!”

[whumperofworlds]

Two characters who usually bicker a lot get captured together.

They found a way to escape, but they ended up being recaptured, and as punishment, one of them will be tortured while the other watches.

The captors chose Whumpee at first, but Caretaker stepped up, adamant that they should be hurt instead. Whumpee is shocked; they thought that Caretaker secretly hates them, but the way Caretaker insists on being hurt instead made them realize that despite the bickering and name calling, Caretaker deeply cared for Whumpee.

And so Whumpee is forced to watch as their teammate--their friend--get tortured.

[whumpingandsmilinglikeanidiot]

Words cannot describe how much Whumpee hated that place. Yet they were again dragged here, and the first few days of opening their eyes to that familiar view made them mutter over and over again, this is just a nightmare.

But the days after that, whumpee could feel their heart crawl inwards as the hardwired rules, the accustomed words, the trained behavior

jumped right back and fit them neatly.

It was almost as if this was how everything was meant to be.

[chaotic-orphan]

Recapture

Hello! I’m sorry I have been absent, but the next two weeks are my exam times and I most likely won’t be active, but good news is that my exams finish on the 17th! Which means a whole summer of more writing!! Thank you for being patient and here’s a lil whump drabble to scratch that itch

*~*~*~*~*

Caretaker was dragged through the camp struggling like a worm on a hook. Two of Whumper’s men stood on either side of them, marching Caretaker by their arms to Whumper. Caretaker’s hands were zip-tied awkwardly behind their back, and no matter which way they moved their wrists the plastic cut into them sharply.

Caretaker saw Whumper before they reached their tent. Slightly larger than most, big enough to hold a cot and a space for tactics. Whumper’s war room. Whumper’s hair shone like a star in the darkest night’s sky, the moonlight reflecting off of the silvery strands. It always looked a little off, a little too unreal. A little too beautiful.

Whumper smiled when they saw Caretaker being dragged towards them, dismissing the people they were talking with to greet Caretaker with open arms. Literally.

“Caretaker,” they said, voice happy and light. “I know it’s only been a few hours, but I must say I missed you.”

“Yeah, well,” Caretaker replied, their voice coming out weaker than they would’ve liked. “You’re like a rash I can’t get rid of.”

Whumper’s eyes widened slightly as they glanced over Caretaker’s head to see if there would be another in zip-ties like Caretaker. Looking for Whumpee. Then they fell to one of the guards holding Caretaker. Without a command, the two guards threw Caretaker to the ground. Their hands shot out to catch themselves but caught on the zip-ties, and the best Caretaker could do to not eat a face full of dirt was to let their shoulder take the brunt of the impact.

“Caretaker, Caretaker, Caretaker,” Whumper said with a long sigh. Caretaker watched Whumper’s shiny boots draw closer to them. Then swing back out of sight swiftly. Caretaker barely had enough time to catch their breath before it was forced out of them, let alone try and turn away as a gleaming boot came down in a flash. It hit their ribs and Caretaker gasped, curling into a ball but it didn’t stop the next kick, or the next, or the next.

Whumper’s boots stopped in front of Caretaker’s eyes. Whumper sighed above them, and crouched down. Leather creaked as Whumper ran their fingers through Caretaker’s hair and made a fist before yanking. Caretaker cried out as Whumper craned Caretaker’s head back until they were looking into Whumper’s cold, impassive face.

Whumper tilted their head to the side. “Where’s my favourite pet, hmm? Where did you leave them?”

“I don’t know where they are,” Caretaker spat. “I just know they’re far away from you.”

Whumper’s smile could freeze hell, and seeing it sent shivers down Caretaker’s spine. Whumper released Caretaker’s hair and pushed them onto their back, leaning a knee down on Caretaker’s chest.

“That’s not the answer I want to hear, Caretaker.”

“Fuck you!” Caretaker ground out, then let out a sharp cry after Whumper punched them in the face. Their head smacked back off the dirt ground of the camp and Caretaker felt a headache creep into their skull.

For a long moment, Whumper just stared down at Caretaker, the same cold smile on his lips. Then Whumper got to his feet and waved his hand at Caretaker. Caretaker didn’t have to wait long to know what that gesture meant before the guards were taking his arms again and yanking him up.

Caretaker kicked out at them, catching one of them on their hip and turning to twist out of the other’s grip. The other yanked Caretaker towards them, throwing them off balance. Before they managed to correct it the guard they kicked had their hands on Caretaker’s elbow again and between them they managed to subdue a feral, cursing Caretaker.

Caretaker stopped struggling when their eyes were enthralled by Whumper’s, as if they were caught in a snare. It made their blood run cold. Not Whumper’s eyes or cold smile, but his current bare index finger and thumb that was removing their remaining glove from their hand.

“Caretaker…” Whumper said with a sigh. “I really hate to do this, especially to you. You’re my— you were my closest friend. You and I were like family.”

Caretaker fought to urge to try and back up in the guards hold. Everything in their body screamed at them to flee. To run, but they forced themselves to remain in place.

“We were friends before you needed goons to do your dirty work for you.”

Whumper’s eyes flashed with amusement as they advanced on Caretaker, reaching forward and ignoring Caretaker’s flinch, stroked the back of their knuckle along Caretaker’s jaw. Something so familiar about it broke Caretaker’s heart, but only now did they see the manic possession Whumper mistook for love in their eyes.

“That’s right, we were. Back when you were the one to do my dirty work for me, right?”

Caretaker swallowed the lump in their throat, or tried to, because it was still lodged there.

“Then you had to go and get noble, Caretaker. All for a pathetic nobody who wouldn’t return the favour.”

“I’d do it again.” It was a confession.

Whumper had the gall to look a little sad as they said softly: “I know. And you know what I must do now.”

Caretaker tried not to cry. They wanted to greet their maker with dignity. “I do.”

Whumper steeled their expression, jaw clenching, moulding their face as far to impassive as they could.

“For what it’s worth,” Caretaker said softly, their voice scratchy as if they had just swallowed sand. “You were my fiercest friend too. I don’t regret what I did, but I’m sorry I had to betray you.”

Whumper’s stoic expression cracked a little. In their left eye, Caretaker saw the telltale twitch and they smiled. They knew if they were alone Whumper would have expressed their doubts too, but Caretaker knew it had to end this way when they broke Whumpee free. Whumper knew it when they found Whumpee’s cage empty.

Caretaker nodded. Then closed their eyes and waited for the final blow.

It didn’t come.

Instead, Caretaker heard the most devastating sound they would ever hear.

“WAIT!”

Caretaker’s eyes shot open meeting Whumper’s smirking face. Caretaker lurched forward, renewing every struggling effort to get free of the guards’ hold but Caretaker didn’t get very far.

“Whumper, wait! Whumper! Don’t,” Caretaker cried, trying to squirm out of the guards’ hold but every time they got a bit of leeway the guards would change their position and keep Caretaker firmly between them. “Whumpee! RUN!”

“Oh, it’s too late for that, Caretaker,” Whumper said with a smile. “My men already have them. They’re bringing Whumpee up now.”

Whumper turned their attention back to Caretaker, a cruel glint in their eye that scared Caretaker. “Looks like you betrayed me for nothing,” Whumper told them and Caretaker’s seemed to disintegrate in their chest.

It wasn’t gentle, more like a shrapnel bomb going off inside them, pieces of sharp metal lodging in everything. It was difficult to breathe as if Whumper had his goons submerge Caretaker in a barrel of water and was waiting for them to drown.

When Whumpee’s eyes caught Caretaker’s they wanted to scream.

Why didn’t you run?

I told you to run!

This wasn’t apart of the plan!

I risked everything for you.

Whumpee’s expression was entirely apologetic, and it broke something else inside Caretaker. “I’m sorry… I couldn’t let you die.”

Whumper let out a little laugh at that. Caretaker stared at Whumpee, certain every emotion was crossing their face. Until Whumper stepped between them and Caretaker’s gaze strayed to his face instead.

Whumper reached a hand out and settled it under Caretaker’s chin, tilting their head up to face Whumper. They wanted to cry, to scream, to spit. All they did was stare.

“See what heroics gets you?” Whumper said gently. Caretaker couldn’t speak, emotion clogging their throat and not letting air or words through.

Without breaking eye contact with Caretaker, Whumper said: “bring Whumpee back to their cage, and make sure you double the guards around their tent.”

All adrenaline left Caretaker’s body in a quick flush leaving them drained and defeated. “You’re coming with me to my tent, Caretaker,” Whumper promised, something dangerously soft colouring their voice. “We have much to discuss.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

okay Ash but older nanda and Jameson comf? If he'd lived? Pleeease? Just a snippet. A headcanon. A crömb. -theo-

@boxboysandotherwhump I totally forgot you had asked for me to do this AU so so long ago. Found this old ask abandoned in my inbox and you were PROPHETIC.

Continuing the AU, the last chapter (plus a link to the first) is right here.

-

CW: Intimate whump, some derogatory language, dubcon, some, uh, choking

For a long time, there is only the sound of each of them breathing. Jameson is ragged, rasping at the edge of a sob as he pulls himself back into control, his fingernails digging into the soft leather of the reclined passenger seat. His heart pounds, blood rushing past his ears.

Nanda's breath is nearly silent, far more even. His chest is warm against Jameson's bare back. Even through his expensive fucking shirt, though, Jameson can feel his heart pounding, too.

"What..." Nanda trails off. Jameson has never heard him sound so stunned. Nanda always plans for every angle.

But he didn't plan for this one.

"... what do you mean, someone else?" His mouth moves against Jameson's hair, sending a shiver down his spine. "Are you fucking the woman you live with, pet?"

My name is Jameson. I just told you that.

He bites the words back before they can make it out.

"N-no, not her. Fuck no. No. Absolutely... Absolutely not." He shifts, managing to get his shirt off the rest of the way, stop it from keeping his wrists tangled. It gives him an excuse for how his voice shakes - just from the effort. Only that. "Someone else. Different house. Someone... Someone else."

Nanda is quiet again. He's quiet for far too long. Then, he shifts back inside the tiny space. "Roll over. I want to see your eyes."

Jameson swallows, obeying the easy command with a little curl of warmth. He tips his head back against the headrest, looking up at Nanda, his beard and the line of his jaw beneath the silver and gray. The way the muscles in his arms seem written even more in stone. Nanda eases himself back down, and his weight feels reassuring and terribly final at once.

"Who is it?" His voice is mild. Spoonful of sugar tinted pink, sweetness and salt on Jameson's tongue. He could drown in the taste of Nanda's voice. Used to feel like he did drown, under voice and hands, tied up in ropes and brought to the good kind of screaming.

"... They're called A-Allyn. They, they ran away like I did. Well, not the-... Their owner died, too. They... They understood that I missed you..."

He reaches a hand up, hesitantly, trying to touch Nanda's face. The older man's big hand snaps up to close painfully tight around his wrist, forcing it back down.

"I wasn't dead," Nanda says mildly.

"I already told you, I didn't exactly goddamn know that-"

"No, you were dumb as rocks the one time I could have used the brains we both knew you had." Nanda's voice stays mild, but the insult stings regardless.

"I'm-... not-"

"Oh, you're not? You didn't know how to check a fucking pulse, but you're not dumb, huh? You ran off instead of waiting or calling for help but you still love me, right? Hell, you fuck someone else, but you're not a slut anymore. Isn't that what you're saying?"

Jameson's wrist feels like it creaks as Nanda tightens his grip further and further. The man's other hand drops down to unbutton and unzip his own pants in quick jerky motions. They're down low off his hips in seconds.

Jameson grits his teeth against the pain, refuses to be seduced by it. Or by the way Nanda punctuates the accusations by rolling his hips, the low warmth remaining stoked back into a flame.

God, he feels so hot.

They're both burning.

"If you were d-dead-... Ah! I would have lost you when they took you out of my head, I already s-said that-Jesus that's fucking good-"

His other wrist is grabbed now. He tries to pull it away, but they both know he isn't trying very hard. Nanda's mouth drops to graze against his. To catch him in a kiss, brutal and firm, until he's whimpering and rocking his hips like some mindless fucking idiot, like he used to do.

Nanda chuckles bitterly, pulls back and listens to Jameson's angry hiss at the sudden loss of connection. "If there's someone else, why did you get in my car when I came for you?"

He swallows, closing his eyes. Nanda's burn too much for him to take. Those hips roll against his again and he meets them with his own, arches his back, lets legs shift apart to welcome Nanda between his thighs. He could come from this, if it goes on long enough. "I don't-... I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No! Fuck you, no I don't know! You were dead and now you're here and I, I forgot who I am for a second, but I'm-... I'm not that anymore, and I want-... I want to-..." God, he feels it so much, his skin is all raw nerves and sensation. "... I want-"

"You want me."

Nanda had let go of his wrist at some point. He only realizes it when that heavy hot hand closes around his neck.

His breath stutters, gets lost trying to find his lungs. His head spins as the hand tightens, he feels his Adam's apple move against Nanda's palm. "Wait-"

" I spent all these years trying to find you, pet-"

"Jameson," He rasps, barely able to force the word out in a whisper. "Use... Use m'fucking name-"

"Fine. Jameson." God, it sounds so good in Nanda's voice, his own name tastes perfect in his tongue when Nanda is the one to say it. His eyes nearly flutter shut at the simple pleasure. "I have been searching for you-"

"Doing a shit j-job of it, could've used your help a couple y-years ago when I was in some asshole's dog cage-"

"Let. Me. Finish." The grip on his throat tightens even more. There is so little room for him to breathe, chest heaving. He never moves his hands to try and push or fight, though. He knows this tone, the look on Nanda's face. "However you feel about someone else... I looked for you. And I found you. I searched every goddamn corner of California trying to figure out where you fucked off to, and I find you all fucked up for someone else, another pet, huh?"

"I... I loved you... I still-" His voice catches, his throat clicks when he swallows. His eyes are wide, and he sees the anger in Nanda's and wonders why it used to thrill so much more to see it than it does now. "But I-... grieved-... Rebuilt, built n-new... life... I, I fucking deserve to l-live-"

Nanda's lip curls. But he doesn't say anything while Jameson fights for enough air to speak again. They're both still hard, still moving together, and the pleasure mixes with the pain in his throat and the dizzy lack of air, crossing all his wires and leaving him squirming in helpless unwanted arousal beneath Nanda's familiar perfect weight.

"I... deserve s-someone... who l-loves me... back-"

He expects mockery, black spots flashing bright like camera lights around Nanda's face as his vision starts to go, tunneling in on those eyes.

He sees, in the center of the closing tunnel, the whites of Nanda's eyes.

"Please-... If you e-ever... loved m-me-... Please, fuck, please s-say-... it..."

Nanda's thumb pushes against his windpipe as he kisses Jameson. Their mouths open to each other, and Jameson's arms move, finally, only to grip onto Nanda's shoulders. An anchor as he drowns on land, fighting for air.

Then the grip loosens.

Jameson's head pounds as he groans, his throat aches as he gulps air desperately. He'll be marked, bruised. He's been bruised there before. "N, Nanda-"

Nanda's head drops to Jameson's shoulder.

"... Nanda?"

A pause.

"You stupid thing. Why would I have looked so long for you if I didn't?"

[whumpsday]

Kane & Jim x Catharsis - Kane & Luan

K&J chronological masterlist / K&J writing order masterlist

Catharsis masterlist

content: vampire whumpee, escape, begging, starvation, caretaking, dubious caretaker, whumpee turned caretaker, death wish, suicide attempt, recapture, torture, gore, burns, rescue, brief self-harm for vampire feeding purposes, side robot whumpee

Whumpmas in July Day 15: A Soft Reprieve

the first time i've ever done a crossover between two different series of mine! this one's been living in my brain rent-free. massive props to @sowhumpshaped for inspiration!

-

Luan’s heart practically stopped when he looked through the doorbell camera to find a vampire.

The camera  wouldn’t matter if it was a vampire. The door wouldn’t matter if it was a vampire. He would be taken, again, this time manhandled from his own apartment. The fact that he couldn’t sleep all night was the only reason he had this last moment of freedom.

“Stay back,” he said through the speaker, trying not to let his voice shake like his hands as he clumsily looked up the number for the local hunters. There was no way they’d get here in time, not even with their base just down the road. Not with a vampire’s speed.

“Please,” the vampire whimpered, kneeling on his doormat. “Please help me, I beg of you. I’m not a threat, I promise, please don’t call the hunters, I’ll do anything!”

Now that Luan really looked, he could see beyond the bright-red of his eyes and the intimidating fangs: the figure at his door was… not well. Clearly emaciated, a feeling Luan knew all too well. He could see what looked like burns, and what were definitely cuts. Tears tracked from terrified, desperate eyes.

“What do you want?” Luan snapped, thumb hovering over the dial button.

“Please, please, sir, I can’t find anything to end myself, the sun is coming, they’re going to find me, please, mercy, I can’t go back, please help me!” the vampire begged, weeping into his hands. “I can’t use persuasion, I promise, I wouldn’t even if I could!”

It was objectively stupid. It was going to get him killed or worse. If Luan opened this door, that would be the end of it. The vampire would take one look at him, use persuasion, and his freedom would be gone again, just like that.

There was no faking the way his stomach turned inward like that, worse than Luan had ever been. If Luan had ever starved that badly, he suspected he would have died.

Would there be any point to a vampire going to these lengths just to trick him, when he could have just used persuasion from the first moment?

“One minute. Stay there.” He dashed to find something, ending up with a ruler he hasn’t dug out in years. Sawing at it with a kitchen knife made something resembling a stake, though he knew in his heart that it likely wasn’t strong enough to get through flesh. He just had to hope it would be intimidating enough.

Luan hesitated. Was he really going to do this? Let a starving vampire into his home?

He looked through the camera again, at the pitiful man collapsed on his porch.

He opened the door, makeshift stake in hand. “Get inside.”

The vampire scrambled in, crouching like a cornered animal on his floor, panting hard. “Th-thank you, sir. Thank you so much. Please don’t call them, please, I just–”

“You can stay the daytime and that’s it.” It wouldn’t be the first time Luan had stayed awake a full 24 hours. He could do it again. “At sunset, you leave, and you don’t come back. You never take a human. Agreed?” He pointed the stake at the vampire with both hands. “Try anything and it’s the stake.”

What Luan wasn’t expecting was for the vampire to look up at him with utter adoration. “Yes, sir! Thank you, sir! I’ll be good, I promise, thank you so much! You can kill me if you’d like, I don’t mind, I won’t resist. Whatever you want.”

Luan slowly lowered the stake. “That’s… probably not necessary.” A look around the room. The sun would start rising in a few minutes, he had to act fast if he was really offering this vampire refuge. “Go wait in the bathroom,” he pointed, “There’s no windows in there.”

“Yes, sir!” The vampire started to run, but tumbled over himself, collapsing to the floor. Before Luan could react, he picked himself up to his hands and knees, crawling quickly to the bathroom and closing the door.

“Jesus,” Luan muttered. The blinds were already closed, always closed, but he knew some light could trickle in through the gaps.

What to do next? He knew what he wanted next when he was rescued. To feel safe, to feel free, to feel in control, to know Cyrus couldn’t hurt him anymore. Food, water, blankets, a fucking warm shower. Home.

What had even happened to the vampire to make him like this?

In the end, he gathered up some sweats and sneakers he wouldn’t miss–he wasn’t going to make the vampire run home half-naked and barefoot when sunset came–and a blanket, then knocked on the door, stake stowed in his pocket. “Hey.”

“Yes?” the vampire called back.

Luan opened the door, finding the vampire huddled in the bathtub. “Brought you some stuff. You can use the bath and whatever too if you want, you know.”

The vampire’s eyes widened as Luan set the bundle down on the edge of the sink. “Thank you, sir! That’s so kind of you! Thank you so much!”

“Mm-hm.” It felt good to be the one in control. Safe, somehow, even with a vampire.

He wanted to ask what happened to him, but he hated when people asked for details. Those fucking true crime junkies. If the vampire wanted to talk, he would talk.

“I’m Luan,” he offered. “You?”

“M-my name is Kane. No one’s asked me that in a very long time.” The vampire stared at him like some kind of divine being.

“Alright, Kane. Glad this isn’t going to shit immediately. I’ll be… out there. Knock if you need anything, I guess.”

“Yes, sir!”

With that, Luan let him be. The vampire did not return, staying locked in there well after his shower ended. As the hours ticked by, he couldn’t keep his mind off the vampire in the bathroom. How could he?

Food. He was probably hungry. Starving, if his appearance was anything to go by. Luan knew that feeling, the never-satisfied clawing in his gut.

He pinched at his skin. He had blood to go around, didn’t he? Just once.

Luan knocked at the door. “Kane? You doing okay in there?”

“Yes, sir,” came the vampire’s muffled voice, “Do you need something?”

“You need something,” Luan corrected. “I’m gonna feed you some blood. Open up.”

The door opened fast, Kane’s wide, red eyes greeting him. “You would give me blood?” he asked in a hushed whisper, the blanket still wrapped around him.

“Yeah. Here.” Luan held out his arm. That’s where they did blood draws at the doctor’s, right? “I know you’re hungry. Go ahead.”

Kane burst into a huge, fanged grin. “Thank you, sir!” He took Luan’s arm gingerly, with a gentleness he wouldn’t have expected from a monster of the night. Deciding on the wrist, he bit in slowly, carefully at first.

As soon as he broke the skin, all that gentleness disappeared.

The vampire bit in hard, making Luan wince at the pain of it. But he’d expected pain. It was a goddamn vampire bite, of course it was gonna hurt. He grit his teeth and bore it. He’d had worse.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he announced as he started to feel woozy. “I get you’re hungry, I wanna help, but I’m not a buffet.”

Kane paid him no mind, continuing to gulp down mouthfuls of blood, eyes wild.

Luan’s heart began to race, either from the depleting blood or the sudden terror or both. Suddenly, he wasn’t in control anymore, and that meant the vampire could do anything to him. It wasn’t like with the robot, who had to follow his orders. This was a vampire. What was he in comparison to that? He was powerless. He was–

No. Not again. He would not be that helpless thing again.

Luan hit the vampire as hard as he could, bringing his fist down on the back of his head. “I said stop!”

Kane reeled back, his bloody fangs tearing from skin, the blow jerking him back to reality. Landing clumsily on the floor, he looked up in horror as he realized what he had just done.

“I’m sorry!” he cried. “I’m s-so sorry, sir! I didn’t mean to, I swear, I was just so hungry I couldn’t control myself, I’m sorry!”

His eyes grew watery, his breaths quick and panicked. Kane backed away on the floor, cowering against the tub. “Please just k-kill me, please kill me, I’ll be good, I won’t resist, please, please, I’m sorry, I can’t, please kill me!”

Luan clutched his bleeding arm, staring at the pathetic creature before him. Was that what he’d looked like?

“You’re fine. Just don’t do it again or it’s the stake,” he said firmly. He was in control again. He got to make the rules.

“Please don’t call them,” Kane begged. “I’ll do anything, sir.”

“You’re fine,” Luan repeated. He picked the blanket up off the floor, having fallen in the chaos, and draped it back over the vampire. He instantly clung to it, his shaky hands curling tight in the fabric.

“Th-thank you, sir.” Kane gasped. “Thank you, thank you, I’m sorry.”

“Good.” Luan grabbed a box of bandages out of the cabinet and left, closing the door behind him. He was sure the both of them would feel better that way.

-

Luan woke up to insistent knocking at his door.

He wasn’t supposed to fall asleep. There was a fucking vampire in his apartment. As soon as his head was clear enough to realize, he bolted upright, looking to the still-closed bathroom door, then to the window.

The evening sun still filtered through the blinds: it was still daylight, at least for a few hours more.

“Who is it?” he asked, unlocking his phone. An emergency alert from hours ago plastered the screen before he could check his doorbell camera: VAMPIRE IN AREA.

“I’m with the local vampire hunters. We just wanted to ask some questions,” the man at the door said.

Not a sound came from the bathroom.

It would be more suspicious if he didn’t answer the door, right? Luan opened it. “What questions?”

“We were holding a vampire in the base a few streets down when it escaped last night. This one can’t hypnotize you, and we had it pretty weakened, but it’s still dangerous–caught it before it could take anyone, thankfully. We know it couldn’t have gotten far, already combed outside. It has to have snuck into someone’s home, so we’ve been making the rounds before it can escape come nightfall. Have you seen anything suspicious?”

“...Take anyone?” Luan asked, the floor falling out from under him.

“Yep,” the hunter nodded, “When we caught it, it already had someone. Almost got away with her, too. If that thing managed to get her over the border, that’d be it. Last thing we want is for that to happen again. Luckily, we’ve got the sun on our side.”

How could he have been so stupid? Of course a vampire wouldn’t be in human territory for any good reason. Kane had already gotten a taste for his blood. He was just a few hours away from being lured into captivity again, and this time, there’d be no one to save him.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Luan grit his teeth, chest tight. Cyrus would never let him hear the end of it if he knew. “He–he tricked me,” he mumbled. “He’s in the bathroom.”

“Fuck. Least we caught it before sundown. Read up some on vampire safety,” the hunter instructed him, strolling inside.

The bathroom was no longer silent.

A sob accompanied the frantic scratching of nails against wood for only a moment before the hunter yanked the door open, the shitty lock giving way on only the third try.

“No! No, please, I was out!” Kane screamed, clawing at the sink cabinet ever-harder. “Please, please, mercy! I can’t! I was out!”

“Behave yourself,” the hunter spat, and Kane and Luan both flinched. He grabbed the vampire by the hair. “Come quietly and you get a tarp, not that you deserve that much after the stunt you fucking pulled today. Make a fuss and it’s the sun.”

Kane wailed, a cry of anguish so long and deep Luan thought it might never end. When it did, a shaking Kane wrapped his arms around himself. “I’ll be good, sir,” he whispered, eyes distant.

He offered no resistance as the hunter dragged him away, only tears.

Alone once more, Luan knew he’d made the only choice he could to protect himself, but the tightness in his chest didn’t go away.

-

In the coming weeks, Luan couldn’t get the vampire out of his mind.

Even taking it out on the robot didn’t help, not that it ever really did. He found himself turning it on less and less, leaving it in the closet. Seeing Cyrus’s face just made him feel worse.

The hunters had to have killed Kane, right? That would be fine. Humanity would be safe from him if they did that, and Kane had been begging for it, anyway. What reason would they have to keep him alive?

Luan knew the answer to that better than most.

One call to the hunters confirmed it: the vampire was alive, though they promised ‘improved security’.

“Can I see him?” he blurted out.

It took some convincing, but Luan was able to secure himself an appointment.

-

“Keep away from the bars,” the hunter leading him downstairs instructed. Down, down, down. Concrete walls, concrete floor. Luan fought the urge to run. “You can talk with it for five minutes. Get some closure on whatever it was doing in your place. I’ll escort you back up later.”

“Mm-hm,” Luan agreed.

At the bottom of the stairs was a cell, and in the cell was a metal trunk. Luan dug his nails into his palm.

“It might look a little gnarly, but remember, these things aren’t human. They heal like that.” The hunter snapped his fingers. “Wait here.”

The hunter unlocked the cell, then the trunk. “Out.”

The lid flung open, a skinny, burnt hand retracting as soon as it appeared. Kane climbed out of the trunk, landing in a mess on the floor.

He was much worse-off than Luan remembered him. In only six weeks, the clothes he’d given him had become so torn and bloodstained as to be practically unrecognizable. Nearly all the skin he could see was burnt, his face a mess of severe welts. He looked to Luan with utter terror in his eyes, far more than the robot could ever hope to mimic.

“H-hello, sir,” Kane stammered.

Luan had to run. He knew he was safe, he wasn’t a vampire, but the danger emanating from every crack of this place was far greater than any he’d felt with a vampire cowering in his bathtub.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

“I’m s-sorry,” Kane continued, clutching at his shirt. “Please, please, I’m so sorry.”

“What?” Luan asked. “Why are–”

“Please don’t take the clothes away! I’ll do anything!” Kane bowed his head, trembling. “Anything, anything, p-please, I need them, I’m so sorry, please! They’re the only thing protecting me from the silver!”

He picked his head up to look back at the trunk and then Luan with a sob. “Please, I know I don’t d-deserve it, I’m sorry, but please, please, I’m trying. I won’t run again, I’m sorry!”

“They’re yours,” Luan assured him quickly. “I’m not… taking them. That’s not why I’m here.”

Kane let out a massive, shaky exhale, the grip on his shirt still tight. “Thank you for your m-mercy, sir. Thank you for letting me keep them. Thank you for giving me one good day. I treasure it, sir. It–it was the best day I ever had. What can I do for you?” He looked up, eyes shining and watery.

Luan turned and ran.

-

He brought the robot out that night. No one else had the guts to tell him what a piece of shit he was. No one else who wasn’t in prison.

Luan didn’t tell Russ what happened. He didn’t need to. The robot did its job, and by the time he was done, his knuckles hurt. The robot winced as Luan reached down to switch it off, then fell limp.

He called the cops. They didn’t care. It wasn’t a crime to hurt a vampire.

Luan thought about moving, but he didn’t. Instead, he did the opposite, took long walks out to the hunters’ base with his hand on the unused pepper spray in his pocket. It was just a building, as far as he could see, but he knew Kane was in there. Someone had to know.

Until one day, Kane was outside.

He was strapped to a propped-up metal board, baking in the sun, the clothes Luan had given him gone. It was the least human he’d ever looked: his skin boiled like sugar syrup on a stovetop in some places, crisped like burnt marshmallow in others.

There was no one else out there.

He ran home, came back even quicker with his car, and hopped the fence. Barbed wire tore at his skin, but didn’t slow him down. Kane writhed, pulling at his bound wrists.

“I’m getting you out of here,” Luan whispered, taking bolt cutters to his shackles. Kane fell to the ground, letting out a muffled shriek as his yet-untouched back set ablaze.

He didn’t have time to be careful. He hauled Kane up–he hardly weighed anything–and threw him over the fence, following quickly.

Tossing the vampire into his trunk, he added, “Don’t say you’re sorry if you have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry. You’re going home.”

Kane’s mangled face was unreadable, but Luan could have swore he saw him relax just a little amid the pain.

-

Luan drove. He couldn’t go home yet, that much he knew. They’d find him in a heartbeat. He drove as far away from that place as he could get, the cargo in his trunk surprisingly quiet.

When he’d gotten a few hours away, he found a secluded corner of a parking garage and popped the trunk.

“Easy, it’s me,” Luan shushed when Kane started to cower. “We’re far away. Here.”

Kane’s mouth was sealed shut, his lips fused together by the heat of the sun. It took some prying, but he managed to get them unfused. Kane didn’t seem to mind, not even when his skin tore and bled.

There were no fangs in his mouth.

Whatever. That wouldn’t stop him. He grabbed his pocketknife from the glove compartment and slashed his palm open. Kane writhed again, a desperate whine dragged from his throat, but stopped when Luan made a fist over his waiting mouth and squeezed.

“Drink up,” he encouraged. He kept going for a while, eventually bringing his hand to Kane’s mouth to let him lick the excess blood from it. His hand left scabbed over, as if it had been healing for hours rather than minutes.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” Kane rasped, his voice hoarse. “Thank you, I’ll b-be good this time. Thank you for giving me another chance.”

Oh, he’d screwed this guy up bad. Another achievement in his worthless fucking life.

“Who should I contact about getting you home?” he asked. Time to get straight to the point. “Any vampire who could come here when it’s night and get you?”

Kane was silent for a moment. “Bellamy Verta,” he said eventually. “S-safe. Safe for humans.”

The guy wasn’t hard to find, and from what his profile said, he sure seemed to live up to safe for humans. His profile linked to a website that looked like PETA for vampires.

“I’m sending a DM. He’s probably asleep right now, but he’ll probably see it when he wakes up,” Luan reported.

Kane wept, blubbering gratitudes.

-

Luan cleared the area an hour before Verta was set to arrive. No matter how innocent his page looked, he wasn’t taking any chances. He left the trunk closed so no one would find Kane besides the one who was supposed to, not that he expected vampire hunters to be prowling an unpopulated parking garage in the middle of the night. Not exactly prime vampire ground. He was sure Verta would be able to figure out opening it.

He didn’t go back to the car until he got an emoji-filled DM back from Verta with a picture of what looked like Kane’s attempt at a smile.

His trunk had a hand-shaped dent in it, not that he really gave a shit. By the time he got home, it was almost sunrise. He really had to do something about his sleeping before Monday.

Luan stared blearily at the closet.

He opened it, turned on the robot. Russ flinched back at his touch, looking up at him with a harsh glare. “What?” he spat.

Luan unplugged the charger and shoved it into Russ’s hands before backing away. “You can go.”

Russ opened his mouth, then closed it, the glare melting from his face. He turned and ran through the door without a word, off into the sunrise.

It felt better than any time Luan had hit him.

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event: @whumpmasinjuly

[whumppromptoftheday]

two whumpees meet by accident and become more confident in public again. as they spend more time out in the open, whumper has a chance to get both of them back

[whumblr]

Ball and chain

Whumpee meekly walked along, resigned, hands cuffed in front of them, two henchmen clinging to both arms as they were marched into the large room. Like they were both walking them down the aisle.

Except the man who they were tied to was all but bliss. And did not accept any form of seperation.

And he now stood waiting for them in the middle of the room. He turned and his eyes immediately fixed on Whumpee. Myeah... they were in trouble.

The man barely contained himself, his jaw clenched, nostrils flaring, and his rage plain to see in his eyes, swirling about like thunderclouds.

You'd think that, with all the trouble they caused, he would be glad to see the back of them... instead of sending out a search team and dragging them back to their cell.

They stopped right in front of him and Whumpee swore they saw something twitch in his jaw. His eyes bored into theirs, but they didn't look away.

"Leave," Whumper growled.

The two men gladly let go of their arms and turned to leave the room.

Whumpee however followed suit: they spun on their heels and made to follow them out. But before they could even take one step, a hand clamped around their shoulder.

"Not you, you goddamned little gargoyle, what makes you think I was talking to you."

Willfully ignoring the fingers digging into their shoulder, Whumpee simply watched, a little rueful, as the henchmen succesfully made their way out, leaving them alone here. Then they turned around again, shrugging the hand off with the softest huff.

"Well, you were looking at me, so..."

-

General whump tag: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @whumpifi @auroragehenna