#threats with gun tw

[paintedcrows]

Ever think about how Bill Cipher has canonically threatened every member of the Pines family, except Stanley, with suicide? I think about that a lot... Kid's show villain everyone!

Individual Panels below the cut!

[notverycolonthreeofyou]

Happy I hate fireworks day 🥳

[draw-the-squad-like-this]

Draw your... characters...?

[imaplatypus-art]

Johnathan hates when people mislabel him and other platypuses

Me too 🔫

[whumpinthepot]

Hamster Interactive Story

Chapter 16. Rescue

Prev - Masterlist

Content: giant/tiny, cages, pet trope, power dynamic, home invasion, guns, death threat, fear of heights, being mocked

Pov: Soap Scrub

Poll Winner: Pet liberation rescue

Note: The last chapter ended up being over 7000 words so I decided to split it into two parts so there will be another chapter after this one :)

Special thanks to @alittlewhump for helping me edit <3 thank you

ART, WRITING, AND POLL UNDER THE CUT!

—

The weeks blur together with no chances to escape. You’ve almost stopped trying. Ashley doesn’t leave any cracks or openings to even think about slipping past her. You’ve stopped looking for them, too tired to keep up with being constantly alert. 

The days are mostly the same. Ashley spends a lot of her time at work, and when she gets home she usually coddles Hamster and leaves you alone. Thankfully. Maybe she’s gotten bored of you, only using you for her photoshoots. You’re just another prop to her.

Sometimes she brings friends over who all coo over Hamster, and often torment you. None of them will help you either. They don’t seem to like your bitter attitude. That’s not how pets are supposed to act apparently. 

You can’t tell if you’re successfully talking Hamster into freeing you, or if she enjoys keeping you locked up as much as Ashley does. Every time you mention anything Hamster shakes her head and stares at you with that stupid love struck smile on her face. You would think you could use her crush to your advantage, but so far it just makes her more reluctant to let you go. Being mean to her doesn’t work either because it puts you on Ashley’s bad side, and you end up being isolated. So you opt with trying to get Hamster to side with you. 

You’re afraid the plan is a lost cause, but all you can do is keep working on getting Hamster to help you. She’s interested in meeting more people your size, so that's what you usually tell her about in hopes she’ll get curious enough to go with you someday. 

Tonight is like any other. Ashley has Hamster cuddled up to her on the couch while they watch a sappy romance movie. You’re as hidden as you can be inside the cage, but admittedly you’re also watching the screen from an angle since the t.v. is in view from the kitchen counter. 

The movie is interrupted when there’s a knock on the door. Ashley gets up to put Hamster away in her cage, walking over to answer it.

The door flies open, almost hitting her as she springs backwards. Three masked strangers rush into the house, surrounding her. One of them grabs her from behind with a gun pointed to her head, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Scream and we’ll shoot,” they hiss into her ear. 

Shit. Shit. Shit! 

You nestle down further into the bedding, but you have nowhere to go if they want to grab you. It's hot and suffocating. You feel like you can’t breathe under the weight of it smothering you. 

Looking through the haze of the fluff you see Hamster staring openly with no cover. Making herself an easy target with her mouth gaped open in shock. She doesn’t move. She makes no attempt to hide herself at all. 

Stupid girl! 

She takes a breath to scream and your whole body clenches, trying to ready yourself to be noticed.

When Hamster shrieks, Ashley struggles and begs them to leave Hamster alone. Ashley is immediately shoved out of sight by two of the humans while the third looks to see where the source of the shrill scream came from. 

The intruder walks up to Hamster’s cage, and when they see her they pull their mask down to reveal a pale freckled face. Concern written all over it. “Hey. Shh, it's okay. We’re not here to hurt you. I’m here to take you somewhere safe.”

Hamster scrambles back, tripping over fluff. She reaches her arm out towards the room Ashley was forced into, and looks back to the human while bawling. The message is as clear as usual, that Hamster wants Ashley. 

“She’ll be okay. I’m sorry you can’t see her, but they won’t hurt her. I need to know where the other boy your size is.” The human makes no moves to give Hamster what she wants. 

Hamster’s wide eyes flick towards your cage, and she shakes her head. It’s too late, the human already knows that’s where you’re hidden and peers through the bars to try to find you. Their brown eyes search every corner of the cage as their voice overwhelms you. “Hey. I’m here to help you. Are you in there?”

They must see you shaking because their gaze is concerningly close to where you’re hiding underneath the bedding. You don’t believe them for a second and refuse to move from the spot to let them know where you are. 

One of the other humans pokes their head out from the hallway, and says, “They’re in the cages. Just the two.” 

You’re a fool to think you could go unnoticed at this point. Dread trickles throughout your body, and you have nothing to grab onto to steady yourself. Nothing but white fluff between your fists. 

The human next to you nods once, just a flick of their chin, then picks up both of your cages by the handles at the top. Your stomach churns from the sudden shift of gravity. You cover your mouth with your hands to stay quiet, but Hamster has other ideas. She’s wailing pitifully and the human’s words of reassurance do nothing to stop her. 

You’re both royally fucked. 

Ashley scares you, sure, but you know how much worse it could be. So, so, so much worse. Ashley can be cruel, but she’s not sadistic. Horror stories flash through your mind of humans who inflict pain for fun, and a rush of dizziness has you seeing stars. Suddenly the thought of staying with Ashley doesn’t seem so bad compared to what could be. 

The human takes both of you into the back of a van and places the cages down gently onto one of the leather side seats. They sit on the floor with their legs crossed, eye level with you and Hamster. They take their toque off, and underneath they have a curly blonde mohawk. ”My name is Ratty. I’m here to take you somewhere safe,” they repeat those words: Safe. 

It’s grounding in a way, being promised safety, but your skepticism has your heart pounding. There’s no way what this human is saying is true.

The van starts rumbling, and you’re being driven away that moment. The other two people are in the front seats behind protective glass, so its just Ratty in the back with you. 

The human in front of you already knows you’re in the cage, so you decide to face your fears and show yourself. You throw fluff away from you, and come out with the most defiant glare you can muster while your heart hammers against your chest painfully. “Let us go!” You growl, “You have to let us go, let me out of this cage!” 

“I promise I will. Hold on. Let me take a look at this.” To your surprise, they grab the lock that's on the cage door, looking at it lazily. “Are either of you hurt anywhere?” 

You shake your head instantly, in fear that this human might want to touch you with prodding fingers. You look over to Hamster to see if she answers the same, but she doesn’t answer at all. Instead she just stares in horror, stuck in place by fear. It’s that same look that made you protect her from that mouse. The same look that got you into this mess in the first place. 

You’re trembling, but seeing her even more terrified face prompts the next question. You ask it for her, to ease some of that panic, but you’re curious enough yourself to want to know. “W-what did you do to Ashley? Is she uh… Okay?” 

“She’ll be fine. No one hurt her,” Ratty says, almost sounding bored. 

“Why did you do that?! Are you the pet liberation?” You draw your hands into fists to stop them from shaking, “How did you find us?”

Ratty stops fidgeting with the lock and sits back to talk. “Yeah, we’re basically pet lib. Something like that. I saw your picture on her blog. It was hard to miss.” 

“Are you actually going to let us go?” A lump forms in your throat and you find it hard to swallow. 

“If that’s what you want, I promise I will. We can drop you off somewhere if you have a place to go. Or we can take you to a shelter if you don’t, but you can’t go back to Ashley, or you shouldn't anyway.” 

You frown slightly, testing. “What if we did go back?” 

Ratty shrugs, staying frustratingly vague. “I wouldn’t suggest it. Why? Do you want to?” 

“No,” you say flatly, “but she might.” 

Ratty looks to Hamster who’s now curled up weeping in the corner. “I understand,” Ratty says, “Are you two close? You and Hamster?”

Hamster nods just as you’re about to say no, and you realize there's a possibility of the two of you being separated. You don’t trust this human enough to take Hamster anywhere by herself, and you have no idea what they would do with her. “Yeah, she’s with me. So you can let us go together and I’ll take care of her. We’re not going back to Ashley.”

“Alright. Is there a place you want to go?” 

You think of a known landmark that's close enough to some people you know, and request that. An apartment building in town that you know the name of. 

“That sounds great,” Ratty says, distractedly, “Are you sure you’ll be okay? I want to get you some supplies first, maybe some clothes. You’re both half naked, and from what I'm guessing she’s never been outside before…” 

You ask again with a frown, “How do you know all this?” 

Ratty shrugs. “Ashley posts a lot on her blog. Look, I really don’t feel comfortable dropping you two off on the side of the road with no supplies. I’m sorry, you’ll have to hang tight for a bit while I get you some from the store. We’ll be quick. Anything you want?” 

You glare at Ratty, but they’re right. Especially if Hamster decides to be difficult during the commute to your group of people. “I want a knife,” you start off with, testing. 

“Sure.” Ratty types that into their phone and looks at you expectantly, waiting for the rest of the list. 

You’re stunned at how seemingly compliant this human is, still feeling skeptical. You throw out a few more suggestions, wondering if there would be a catch to the request. “Hair ties, this size.” You hold out your hands to demonstrate. “Fabric, thread, plastic wrap, matches.” You list a few things from the top of your head, then add, “doll clothes.” 

“Gotcha.” Ratty types the rest up, and knocks on the safety glass to the front seat, asking them to stop at a store.

“Can you let me out already?” You ask impatiently. Ratty hadn’t made a move to take the lock off, and you are still trapped in the cage. 

“Uhh… I’m gonna be real with you, champ. If I let you out now I don’t trust that you won’t take off right away and get yourself killed somewhere in this van. I don’t want that on my conscience.”  

Your face grows hot, and you retort, “Do you think I’m stupid?” 

Ratty chuckles, which just adds to your anger. “No. I think you’re scared. Which is worse. I’ll be right back.” They change their shirt and put on a pair of glasses, altering their appearance well enough to not be recognized as the home invader from earlier. 

Light floods the room of the van as the human exits, then the door closes again leaving you still trapped with nothing but Hamster’s blubbering cries. 

You scoff loudly, “Well aren’t they a fucking delight.” You crawl over to Hamster. Her cage is right beside you, but you don’t know what to say. Your nerves are shot, and comforting people makes your skin itch. “You’re not alone, Hamster. Ashley didn’t get shot, she’s fine. So… Take a deep breath. I’m not gonna ditch you.” 

Staring into her cage, you wonder if you can get her busy. “You see that hammock? Take it down and roll it up with some food in it. We’ll need it if that human is telling the truth.” 

When Hamster doesn’t move you start snapping your fingers to get her attention. She startles, then moves sluggishly as if both your lives aren’t at stake right now. You sigh. This is going to be a long week of travel, especially if she slows you down.

Ratty’s back before long with a small bag of goods. “Anything I can help you do?” They ask as they show you everything. The clothes are a cheap brand- a little flashy for trying to hide in- but good enough for now. 

“Give me my knife,” you demand. 

Ratty slips a needle in the cage for you. It will have to do… They also break an exacto blade into manageable pieces for you to use.

The human helps you get all of your supplies ready, and you help Hamster with her clothes through the bars, wrapping her arms and legs in floral tape to keep them protected. You tie her hair back into a fluffy ponytail, and wrap fabric and plastic around her feet for makeshift shoes. The hammock is tied around her like a sash. 

You do the same for yourself and wrap as many of the supplies as you can fit into your own sash to bring with you. Ratty also gives you a tiny glass jar with water in it that you tie around your hip. It's heavy, but needed. 

You’re as ready as you can be and look for the human’s approval to let you go. With the way the human is smugly staring down at you with a soft smile you’d say they were pretty pleased with the way you both look. 

The van stops at your destination, and Ratty asks one more time, “You sure you’ll be okay?” 

“If you let me out of this cage, yes,” you huff. 

“Okay… Hold on. I’ll stand watch for a minute to make sure you’re safe too,” they assure you, and lift the cages out of the van. You have seconds to find your bearings, and watch to see what side of the building you’re on when Ratty sets the cages down next to some bushes. 

Ratty then flips the latches on the bottom of the cages to remove the whole top part of them. “I didn’t need to break the lock after all,” they chuckle. You were so caught up with the lock you forgot how these stupid cages even work. Fear really did cloud your judgement. 

It makes you uneasy how the human is treating this like a joke, but that doesn’t matter. You can practically taste the freedom. Ratty lifts the bars off the cage and you’re free.

You’re free!

You make a break for it. The wind hitting your face like cold water. You Sprint as fast as possible to Hamster, grabbing her by the wrist, running for the first cover in sight. 

Turning the corner you dive under some rubbish. Pulling Hamster against you. Covering her mouth to stop her from screaming. “Shh, don’t make a sound. Stay still,” you whisper, breathing quickly.

The human has their back to you as promised, and you only pray that this isn’t all a plan to use you as bait to find more tinies.

After an agonizing minute, the human leaves, taking both of the cages with them. You warn Hamster again not to make a sound as you take your hand off of her mouth.

She’s shaken but you don’t give her time to recover. You tell her to hold a leaf over her head so you two can run for further cover without being seen by anything that might see you as prey. 

You do the same, grabbing a leaf, and check if the coast is clear before running against the hard concrete along the side of the building. Your thoughts are racing but there’s no time to reflect on them. Right now you can only focus on getting somewhere safer. Your energy is being used to survive this trek. 

It's not long before Hamster starts to slow, and at this point you’re practically dragging her. She’s not used to physical labour, and admittedly you’re quite out of shape yourself from being locked up. You both end up kneeling over panting for breath behind a garbage can. You feel as if you’re about to throw up. “Fuck!” You swear under your breath. “We have to make it inside. It’s too dangerous out here.” 

There are still tears in Hamster’s eyes, which you don’t have time for. You assume this is going to be a constant with her. You wait for her to catch her breath, and continue running until you find a vent that leads to the inside of the building. You pull her in, and find a hole that’s been made to lead into the walls. 

Once you’re inside you collapse against the wall, sliding down against it until you’re on the ground. Your leg is throbbing, and your lungs are on fire, but you’re free. Hamster’s hand is still in yours, and she’s panting beside you. It's a good reminder that you’re both alive. 

Your nerves catch up to you, and you start to laugh. You can’t believe you made it out of that cage. You made it out finally. It’s unbelievably exhilarating.

You give yourself and Hamster a minute to calm down. Catch your breath. Let the shock wear off from everything that just happened before getting up again to continue on inside the building. 

There's pink fluffy insulation along the walls that has been pushed to the side to make an open hallway when you turn the corner. “Don’t touch that stuff,” you tell Hamster without an explanation. 

Hamster leans away from it and keeps holding onto your hand while you take her down the hallway. Eventually you reach a makeshift ladder that goes to the second floor of the building, with little ramps along the way to take breaks on. You never thought you would miss such a shoddily made structure. It's made out of various things: nails, wood, string. “We have to climb up this,” you tell her.

As soon as Hamster looks up to see how high it is she shakes her head and slowly backs away from it. Your jaw clenches in frustration. “I know you’re scared of falling but you have to.” Hamster doesn’t move, and her face crumples while she shakes her head harder. You can’t believe this is where she draws the line. 

Pinching your nose, you take a deep breath. You’ll have to wait this out until she’s ready. It’s probably the best time to take a break anyway- a proper break that is- now that you’ve at least made it inside. You sit down and do an inventory check while talking to her. “We can’t stay here all day, got it? You’ll be fine, just don’t look down and keep one hand on the bars at all times. Get ready to do that soon.”

Hamster curls up and begins crying again. Deep heartbroken sobs that wrack her whole body into uncontrollable tremors. 

If she really won’t do it, you’ll have to leave her for a night or two, and go get help. You would rather not though, it still isn’t entirely safe here. Especially with someone as naive to this world as she is.

When her sobbing doesn’t clear up you squeeze your eyes shut, really not wanting to be in this position. You’re not left with a lot of options, so eventually you sit down beside her and put an arm around her. “It’s okay Hamster. Really.” You hate this. 

Hamster looks at you, glasses fogged up on her tear stained face, then she grabs you into a hug. She pulls you against her and cries into your shoulder. You freeze, then slowly hug her back, tighter than you expected. You’re still shaken up from the whole experience, but you would never admit that you’re glad she’s with you. 

If you can calm her down, then you can convince her to follow you up that height. You wait for as long as you can, then get up. “Are you coming with me? At least try. If you really can’t do it you’ll have to wait here. Alone. If a rat comes by you’ll be screwed, so make your choice,” you tell her and give her one of the needles to defend herself with.

You don’t wait for her to hum and haw on a decision, and instead start to climb the ladder by yourself. Halfway up you look down to see her standing at the bottom, jumping from foot to foot as if trying to convince herself to follow you. 

To your astonishment, she slowly- one step at a time- starts to climb up the ladder after you. Thank god. 

It does take a lot longer than you had hoped. There's a lot of crying and freezing up, but she eventually climbs up with some coaxing. Once she’s at the top, you pull her onto the platform that leads to the second floor of the building. She hugs you tightly, trembling like a leaf, but you can tell she’s relieved to have made it. 

After a few more hours of slow travel you finally make it to a fenced in area that has a door with a latch to keep it closed. The area is large enough for a few people your size to camp out in with a roof over it. 

“We can sleep here tonight. It’s built to keep rats and stuff out of it so we’ll be safe,” you explain and drop your sash, grateful to have the extra weight off your leg. “Let’s see your hammock.” You help Hamster untie it and roll it out, collecting the food from it to put in a pile for dinner.

You feel uneasy being in a cage for the night after finally escaping one, but realistically you know the difference. Maybe it’ll calm Hamster down by being familiar to her. You’re both exhausted and don’t make much conversation while chewing on some dried seeds. Both of you are thankful to be sitting down, and done travelling for the night. 

—

Tag list: @frogkingdom @verkja @whumpsday @octopus-reactivated @marvel-gt @rsitb-second-account @fallen-grace-smd @winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts @kyp-the-spacekiwi @ilasknives @hollowgast1 @redd956 @zobodahobo @alittlewhump @blackrosesandwhump @angst-after-dark @sandygarnelle @coppercoyoti @kim-poce @mayisreallygay @smoll-stace @demondamage @vickytokio @whump-in-the-closet @shadowsnowdapple @whumpy-wyrms @re-whump @cypresscove @whumpninja @highlighterwhump @taters169 @voraciousvore

[heyheydidjaknow]

I haven’t played this stupid game in 6 months. This is a sequel to Prospects, this time featuring Bailey.

Agreement

The envelope shook in your hand. “This should suffice.”

Bailey took it from you, not bothering to meet your eyes as she slit the top and took the slip inside. Whitney, dressed for the ride ahead— or fight; whatever came first— in his sweats and t-shirt, stood with his back to the door. Despite your assurance, he had insisted on sitting in on this final transaction as if the mountain of cash you had worked yourself ragged to obtain would not be enough to settle the score, as if your being there were not dependent solely on your value as a worker, as if Bailey— who now looked up at you over the check between her fingers and her half-rimmed glasses— would care beyond that if you were gone.

The ground swayed beneath your feet.

Bailey leaned back in her chair, gesturing to Whitney with the check. “This was your idea?”

You could not bring yourself to look back at him, but you could imagine his expression. It was the same as when you had when you had met Briar and Avery a few days before; cool, unflinching, as though you were an item at a pawn shop he was trying to get a good price on. You supposed you were, in a sense. “Yes.”

Bailey nodded slowly, taking in your figure, your stance. You squirmed under her gaze. “And the child’s yours, I take it?”

“Yes.”

She considered as much. “You know,” she mused, “your… what would the word be? Fucktoy?”

He scoffed. “For our purposes, property.”

“Oh, hardly.” She leaned her elbows on the desk, fingers lacing together under her chin. “Not officially at least, not until our terms are settled.”

“What terms are there to settle?” You picked at your cuticles, heart pounding in your throat. “Is that not how much—��

“That’s how much my best earner was worth before.” Her smile was sweet like cough syrup, sharp like whiskey. “I’m a businesswoman you understand; it would hardly make much sense for me to part with my greatest revenue stream for its raw material costs.”

You looked back at Whitney. He kept his eyes trained on the woman in front of you. “And how much would it take for you to part ways with your charge?”

She sighed in mock contemplation. “Oh, I don’t know.” She sucked her teeth. “Another fifty percent ought to do it.”

The words echoed in your ears. You swallowed back panic as you went back to staring at the floor.

“Fifty?” His sneer was audible. “The fuck you take me for?”

“Someone desperate.” She gestured to you. “Someone willing to take when they can get and leave.”

“A bitch, you mean.”

“So long as we’re being frank.”

“You—“

“Do you know how much that child is worth?” You shut your eyes as you felt her own take you in. “Do you know what sort of market you could appeal to with a matching set?”

You heard a rustling of cloth behind you. Whitney’s voice was as cheerful and bright as you had ever heard it. “So long as we’re considering the lives of people that matter,” he smiled, “I’m curious; how much is your life worth?”

There was a pause, a laugh from Bailey. “That bitch,” she sighed. “First that file—“

“This actually isn’t Laundry’s, surprisingly enough.” You heard the clinking of metal parts as he gestured to you. “Friend of a friend who lives in the country; I promised him the deed to this shithole if your position found itself empty.”

Despite yourself, you turned to face him. He held the pistol in his hand with the confidence of a man unfazed by its weight. In the back of your mind, you wondered if he would be tried if he went through with it, whether the cops would come or care or whether they would write it off as the result of one of Bailey’s “ungrateful brats”. You could not for the life of you decide which would be preferable.

“So,” he continued, finger twitching, eyes shining, “I think it best if we tried renegotiating terms.” He gestured to you. “Either you take the money and I take your cash cow off your hands—“ He steadied his aim, “— or I redecorate your office with your insides and you get to find out whether the contents of that envelope are worth shit in hell.”

You cast your gaze back towards her. Bailey looked between the two of you, lips pursed. “You’re more desperate than I thought.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and reached into her shirt pocket. “Let me give you some advice, kid.”

You shut your eyes again at the click of the safety. “Hands where I can see ‘em.”

She pulled out a carton of cigarettes, tapping one out and sticking it between her lips. “He isn’t a better person than I am, you know.” She took a lighter off her desk. “He’s not going to take better care of you than I am, isn’t going to wish you off to some fairy tale land where you’ll never know hardship; if anything, he’s going to fuck you over harder than I do.” She lit it, took a drag, smiled, exhaled.

“You fucking—“

“And you.” She pointed the cigarette at him. “Whitney, yeah? You think your life’s going to get better by being a father?” She leaned her head on her free hand. “I’ve been stuck with this job for thirty years now; the only thing that thing—“ she waved the cigarette in your belly’s general direction, “— is good for is an accessory to the walking ATM it’s stuck in.”

You could hear his voice shake; with what, you could not tell. “So help me God if you say one more thing about my fucking kid—“

“Let me say my piece.” She stood up, taking another drag and blowing it in your face. “If I were you,” she sighed, “I’d see if Harper couldn’t make an exception to get that thing out of you while it’s not breathing. Short of that, I’d ship it here.” She leaned forward, resting her hand on the surface of her desk. “But if I ever find your brat at my doorstep,” she promised, voice lowering, “if I ever see you or that thing here again, I’ll make your time here look like a stay at the Ritz-fucking-Carlton.” She stuck the cigarette back between her teeth, tilting your head up to look her in the eye. The resemblance between her and Whitney was apparent; you wondered if that was just what the eyes of monsters looked like. “I will make your child pay for however much you would have made me twofold, and I will sell their body— whole or piecemeal— to any dumb fuck who asks for what I’m sure will be a pretty young thing like them. Do you understand me?”

You could not breathe.

Her grip on your jaw tightened. “Are you deaf?” She brought you closer, and you whimpered at the sensation. “I asked you a question. Do you understand me or don’t you?”

You shut your eyes as her nails dug into your skin. You dug your own into your palm as you forced yourself to nod.

She kept you there a moment— for what, you did not know— before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes shot open, and you swallowed back tears— of relief, of sadness, of panic— as she released you, collapsing to your knees and gasping for air. “Good.” She took the check, slipping it into her pocket before sitting back down. “Leave before I change my mind.”

You pulled yourself to your feet, practically tripping over yourself to cling to Whitney. He glanced down at you, letting you bury your face into his shoulder as he took one last look at your former guardian. Wordlessly, he pulled the two of you out into the hallway, past the children gathered by the door, past the garden and Robin and the stairs and the threshold and finally, with a smile of untempered relief and satisfaction, across the street, into the truck parked there, and away from that miserable town, and as you watched the buildings you had come to know as parts of your home flew past, as you watched people you recognized from school rush into the forest and students— like you, you registered vaguely, desperate for money, for purpose, for anything— lean against street corners, you wondered if this would be any better, if this was more desirable, if this was emancipation or a different, crueler kind of ownership.

You mumbled a goodbye to the bus stop as it passed. Only then did the tears really start.

[serickswrites]

Eeeeeeeeey! It's meeeeeeeee!

Anyway, I hope you don't mind another request, as this popped up in my head just now!

A Whumpee in a hostage situation via bank/store robbery. Caretaker is outside the building Whumpee is in, begging to the hostage negotiators who were at the scene to let them in so they could save Whumpee (and apologize to Whumpee; they had a fight prior to Whumpee leaving).

They could only watch in horror as Whumper, one of the robbers, grabbed Whumpee and threatened them for everyone to stand down.

-- @whumperofworlds

Hello friend! I can definitely do this prompt for you. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: hostage situation, gun, threat of death, gun shot, unclear character status, guilt, restraints, gag

"Please," Caretaker begged the hostage negotiator that stood in front of the truck that served as a command post. "Please, I need to go in there. Whumpee needs me. Please, I need to--"

"Caretaker," the negotiator said coolly, cutting off Caretaker, "you don't have the negotiating training."

"Please, I--"

"Caretaker, stop. You and Whumpee are a great team. You're great investigators. But neither you nor Whumpee have the negotiation training. I am in charge of this scene now. Let me and my team do my job."

Before Caretaker could try and beg for another chance, the negotiator walked off to the SWAT tent. Caretaker hung their head in shame. They had failed to convince anyone to let them go in after Whumpee.

Whumpee was in danger and this was all their fault.

They had called Whumpee reckless, called Whumpee an idiot, called Whumpee incompetent only an hour before Whumpee had gone into the bank by themself to interview the bank manager.

"Caretaker, I'm telling you, this bank is going to get hit next!" Whumpee had argued in the car as Caretaker drove through the city.

"You don't know that. Going in there will raise fear! We need to gather the evidence, Whumpee."

"Caretaker, I'm telling you, this bank fits the pattern. This is the next one. Please, believe me," Whumpee had said earnestly, their eyes bright and pleading.

"Whumpee, we need to do our jobs. We can't go off half cocked with no evidence. That's reckless. Don't be an idiot and waste time. We know the suspects are going to strike today, we don't want to waste what time we have left!"

Whumpee's face fell. "I am not going off half cocked. And I'm not an idiot. I know this is the one. I can feel it."

"Well your feelings lead to incompetence. We need evidence. We don't need to raise the alarm for some civilians for nothing."

"Let me out of here," Whumpee said softly, their hand already on the door handle.

"Whumpee, where are you going?" Caretaker shouted as Whumpee opened the door. They slammed on the breaks.

"You may not believe me, but I can't let this go. I'm right. I know I am."

And before Caretaker could shout at Whumpee again, they slammed the door and sprinted off towards the bank. "Whumpee!" Caretaker shouted out their window. But it was no use. Whumpee didn't stop or slow down.

And now Caretaker stared at the live footage the robbers had linked to Caretaker's team of investigators. Stared at the live footage knowing that Whumpee was right. And that Whumpee was in the bank with the other civilians without their gun. They had left the car without getting their service weapon out of the safe in the trunk.

Caretaker's mouth went dry as the lead robber dragged a bound and gag Whumpee in front of the camera. The robber pointed the gun at Whumpee's chest. "I want to talk to the person in charge. Now." The robber's voice was cold.

"HEY!" Caretaker shouted at the lead negotiator. "They know who Whumpee is. They know! Do something!"

The negotiator picked up the phone and called the line they had set up for the robber. "I understand you wanted to speak with me," their voice was calm and soft.

Caretaker couldn't believe the change in their demeanor. Did they think this technique would work? The whole reason the spree had lasted longer than normal was that the lead robber was cruel, calculating, and took no risk. They would just as soon as execute Whumpee on camera as listen to the negotiator. "Please, let me--"

The negotiator silenced Caretaker with a glare. "What can I do for you, my apologies I don't know what to call you."

"Whumper, you can call me Whumper."

"What can I do for you, Whumper? I would like to make sure everyone gets out of this safely."

Whumper shoved the gun into Whumpee's stomach. Whumpee coughed and gasped around their gag. "This one already tried that. Said they just wanted to talk and that they would help me. I don't need their help. I don't need your help."

"Well, it seems like you're stuck in there, so I'd like to help you out."

Whumper fisted Whumpee's hair and pulled them back up to kneeling. "You don't understand. I am in charge here. You will do as I say and maybe some of the hostages will make it out of here."

"I want all of the hostages to make it out of there, Whumper. Could we just--"

"You will stand down in the next five minutes or this one," they pointed the gun at Whumpee's chest once more, "will be leaving here in a body bag."

"Please, if you just let me--" Caretaker tried once more.

"You know it will take us more time to clear the scene. If we could just have--"

Whumper looked at their watch, "You have four minutes now."

Caretaker ran out from the truck. They couldn't listen to the incompetence of the negotiator. If the negotiator wasn't going to get Whumpee out alive, they would.

Two uniformed officers ran forward to bar Caretaker's journey. "You can't go in there, Caretaker."

"Please, Whumpee needs me!" Caretaker had to get in there. Had to save Whumpee. Had to apologize. Had to hold them and never let them go. Had to say all of the things they had longed to say but couldn't.

"Caretaker, we can't let you do that."

One loud gunshot rang out. The world went quiet as Caretaker froze. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. They were right there. Whumpee was right there.

"WHUMPEE!"

[dumbandowned]

Yeah, I'm pathetic.

I'll press the tip of my cock against your cervix, desperate while we both sob.

You're sobbing because I've been raping both of your holes until youre leaking cum and blood. I've taken full bite cunks out of you. You're sobbing because youre in pain, it feels good, youre scared because youve never seen me like this before.

I'm sobbing while kissing your neck, filling your womb with my cum one last time. Im sobbing because I'm about to pull the trigger on the gun I'm holding to both of our heads.

Our blood have mixed before. On our lips. On our tongues. On our open wounds.

We'll be such a mess together that they'll never truly separate us. 🫀

So, yeah, not only am I pathetic, but I'm a romantic too. ❤️

[princessbrunette]

https://x.com/archmovies/status/1692059064107143550?s=46&t=BnAzvNz-DBDA4k0WiyaanQ

this is toxic rafe im cryin

literally at the most minor argument too like… if he doesn’t put that thing back in his waistband

[sonyshock]

🦇 𐌁Ꝋ𐌵𐌍𐌃𐌀𐌓𐌉𐌄𐌔 Social media  + Commissions  + PAPERCUT

Posted using PostyBirb

[ask-broken-threat]

tw: guns, char death (he's already dead though)

Prologue, part 2;

. . .

. . .

Somewhere, elsewhere…

[ Ellie and Charles are now open for asks ! ]

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[destielmemenews]

source 1

source 2

[benjaminallhope-fulltimemind]

I'm not saying you should. But I think it's time to consider putting a single bullet in a gun with your name on it :/

Oh please explain why I should kill myself anon, I'd love to hear your reasoning? :)

[b0amagination]

Hasan and Declan AU: Rebounding

I asked myself a simple question in September: what would it take for Hasan to act on the feelings they hold back, regarding Declan? Thus was born a universe in which things get, somehow, impossibly worse.

Hasan and Declan Masterlist

For those unfamiliar: Declan is being held against his will in Hasan's basement. Lee is Hasan's long distance boyfriend. That's all you gotta know <3

Content warnings: Nonconsensual/Forced Kissing, Noncon Touching, Intimate Whumper, Captive Whumpee, Firearms, Threats of Death. Please heed the warnings for this chapter. Though not sexual in nature, those triggered by noncon may find this work upsetting.

Click here for part two of the recording.

~~~

Declan knew something was wrong.

Whether or not Hasan would acknowledge it was another question.

But their face had remained staunchly sad for the past few days, and their eyes didn’t twinkle with that usual terrifying glint. 

It wasn’t that Declan cared at all for the mental health of his captor. This was more about his safety than anything else. Hasan’s mood often had a lot to do with that.

They hadn’t hurt him very badly yet. 

Yet.

Creaking door hinges announced their entry just as Declan began yet another mental spiral. 

Hasan stood in the doorway, a finger beckoning him. He stood up and approached in absolutely no hurry, but it didn’t seem to bother his tormentor as much as usual. They seemed at ease today. 

Good. Maybe their mood was finally passing.

Still uncharacteristically quiet, their hand guided him by the shoulder, indicating that he should take a seat on the lush couch. The other sat next to him on the extended section, close enough that their knees brushed together. A table was already set up with two water glasses, perched neatly upon their ceramic coasters with a box of tissues in between. Hasan gestured to the glass on his side, suggesting he was allowed to drink. 

Declan didn’t wait any longer and took the glass in his hands, mindful of its weight as his mind spun.

Snark caught on the tip of his tongue.

Don’t poke the bear.

But he had to say something. Their silent, blank stare was unnerving enough. 

Don’t-

“Is this a therapy session, then?”

“Lee and I broke up.”

He choked on his first sip of water, setting it down before a cough wracked his body.

“Oh.” He breathed. Suddenly everything made sense. They were still staring. “I’m… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was mutual.” Hasan wet their lips with a quick flash of tongue and clasped their hands in their lap. Were they… nervous?

“Okay,” he said.

Silence hung heavy over the pair. Hasan’s hand moved to rest on his knee, leaning in ever so slightly despite Declan’s violent flinch. 

“You’re going to be upset. But you’re going to listen,” they said firmly. A thumb rubbed against his skin now: an attempt to soothe his heart, skipping a beat at the words. “I’m not coping as well with it as I’d hoped. I knew it was coming, I just-” They cleared their throat and paused.

Hasan’s startling gaze had slipped down as they talked, but it flashed back up now. Something entirely new unleashed within. Something that had been held back for a very long time.

“You know I find you attractive. That I always have.” Licking their lips again. Declan tried to move away, but the hand tightened. “And I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”

The hand on his thigh may as well have been around his throat, choking out quickening breaths. Adrenaline sharpened the world around him.

“We are going to my bedroom, and you will cooperate. I’m going to touch you how I would touch a partner, and you will let me. I am going to kiss you as I like, and you- sit down, Declan!” They yelled, suddenly on their feet pushing him down as the pit in his stomach only deepened. 

“Hasan-!” He cried out, terror squeezing his throat shut, eyes already welled up and dripping with tears. A hard smack across the face and his world spun as he shrieked, the same hand forcing his chin back toward the cause of all this.

“I don’t think you understand. Look at me.” A wavering, crazed look. “This is not a suggestion. This is a promise. I can make it happen by any means, but cooperation will spare your sanity.” They looked him up and down before tilting their head in a challenge. “You know what I’m capable of. This is going to happen.”

Declan’s hand flew up to cover his mouth as he sobbed uncontrollably, but he was listening intently. Desperately.

“I am going to kiss you as I like, and you will reciprocate.” Those words were slow and pointed, as were their next. “I do not want anything further. Do you understand?” 

He couldn’t process, he couldn’t understand how, but he nodded. It should have been a relief. It should have been a relief.

“I want this, and I need this. I do not care what you need to think about when I use you, but you will not cry. You will not beg unless it is for more. You will not move away unless I order it. You will not disobey. Period. Do I make my orders clear?”

“Just… why me, why can’t you… with anyone else…” Declan nearly heaved with the force of his cry.

“You always knew I wanted you. But I knew what this would do to you, darling, and I didn’t need it. Things change.” 

Their casual shrug forced a white hot rush of anger through him. 

“I can’t- I- I just can’t! What don’t you understand?!” 

Hasan’s thoughtful silence was unnerving. Petrifying. They stood and Declan scrambled back, but they didn’t approach him.

“Let me show you what will happen if you can’t.” He hadn’t noticed the duffel bag underneath the table, now unzipped and hoisted onto the couch. Hasan emptied it one item at a time.

A leather wrist cuff. And another. Set up neatly next to each other. 

A length of chain with locking fasteners on the ends. 

Ankle cuffs. Same as the others. Metal buckles and rings to restrain him with.

The ring gag. Oh god. 

And still more. 

A blindfold. 

A collar. 

“Shock collar,” Hasan stated helpfully. “Reacts to your vocal cords.”

A fucking shock collar.

All set neatly next to each other. His mouth was too dry to speak and trembling hands grasped the water glass, tipping it back up to his lips.

“I’ll ask you again, pet. Can you? Or can’t you?” They approached, dragging a hand along their tools.

“I- I don’t… want to…” he whispered, resolve wavering the closer his captor got.

“I won’t repeat my question.” Hasan’s hand closed around the ring gag.

They knew, they fucking knew that terrified him the most, that asshole-!

“Please! I can! Put it down, please!” They paused. “I can do it. I can.” Declan’s eyes met theirs as they let it fall back on the couch, and he cried anew in relief. They sat right next to him, holding his face in a soft palm, and grabbed a tissue to dab at his tears.

“Shhhhh… I told you that you wouldn’t cry, didn’t I?” He nodded, wiping aggressively at his eyes to stop the tears already gathered there. Hasan shushed him again and guided those hands down, wiping the rest of his face dry. They offered him another to blow his nose with and he took it, doing just that.

“Let’s go, sweetheart. My fuse isn’t getting any longer.”

He took the offered hand, pulling him to his feet and leaving the torture tools behind as they ascended the stairs. The effort nearly winded Declan, who realized he hadn’t been upstairs since Hasan kidnapped him.

The door opened up to a grand foyer. Nothing mansion-esque, but clearly part of an upper class neighborhood. The decor was a bit eccentric, but tasteful. Dark hardwood creaked under their footsteps.

Both of them crossed through a living room, decorated much the same with an extravagant bay window facing out to the backyard, and Declan didn’t notice he’d stopped until Hasan tugged at his hand.

“Sorry, I-” he breathed, eyes glued on the first proper view of the outside he’d had since… he didn’t know anymore. The trees were budding where they’d previously been bare, snow-topped branches.

“After. If you’re good.” Hasan’s voice was soft. Empathetic, almost, if he believed they were capable of caring about him.

The hand in his grabbed his wrist instead, pulling him along, and he had no choice but to follow into a bedroom. The sight of the large, plush bed sent a full-body shudder down his spine. Declan so desperately wanted to lay down and let his body be embraced by unbelievable softness, but the thought of what would happen there kept him frozen in terror.

“I picked an outfit for you, darling. Change into it for me, will you?” They held out his own clothes for him: a short-sleeve button down that hugged his figure and a pair of chino shorts. 

He swallowed a rude comment. Hasan didn’t need any reason to go back downstairs and retrieve their torture instruments.

His captor disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and he let out a shaky sigh, slipping off the t-shirt and jeans he’d already been wearing. It felt strange to put on such a formal outfit and his fingers slipped on each little button, still trembling. Declan smoothed out the plaid pattern before slipping on his shorts, tucking the shirt in as he would in any other instance. A vanity mirror across the room caught his eye.

It was… strange to see himself. Solemn eyes red from tears, messy hair, hollow cheeks, and gaunt figure, all dressed up as if he were on his way to a summer party or golf outing. He ran fingers through his hair in an effort to settle the unkempt strands, and he was combing it all to one side when Hasan emerged.

The first thing Declan noticed was their hair: usually tied back low or flowing over their shoulders but now twisted up in a bun. A few strands hung loose, framing their face and glasses. They wore tight leather pants paired with a light, flowing blouse, and a focused expression until their eyes met his. 

Something in them melted, something else swelling up. 

Something soft. Something hungry.

“On the bed, dear. Now.” The command was missing its usual harsh tone, betraying no urgency whatsoever. It still made Declan’s heart plummet. He swallowed harshly, stepping closer to sit down at the foot of the bed. 

Hasan’s eyes wandered over his body still as they paced, hands behind their back. Surveying. Savoring the experience that had hardly begun.

Not a suggestion: a promise.

Then they stepped closer in front of him, towering over, and Declan couldn’t make himself look up. But Hasan could.

The hand on his cheek, the same one that had held him earlier, forced his chin back so he no longer had a choice in that matter. There was no choice in any of this.

I can make it happen by any means.

Hasan’s gaze flitted from his lips, up to his eyes, and back down. Even in closing his eyes, he could feel the heat radiating off their skin before their lips touched.

They were pursed softly against Declan’s own, pressing a chaste kiss to them before pulling back with a warm sigh. Their foreheads touched when Hasan tilted their head and pulled them together again, slotting their top lip against the tight crease and releasing in the same manner as the first.

It was… gentle. Tender. Declan’s chest curled up tight, something sickening and vile grabbing hold when their other hand caressed the nape of his neck. They hadn’t hurt him at all this past week, and only the pain of long-since inflicted wounds flared up on a bad day. It was wrong to be this close to them and not get hurt. 

They parted them this time, wetting Declan’s bottom lip and letting the suction they created slip away with a soft pop. Hasan’s hand tucked blue strands behind his ear as they brought their body ever closer. 

“You’re exactly as I dreamed…” Pure ecstasy spoke through them. “Kiss back, baby.” 

A shuddering sob begged to wreck him, but too much was at stake. Declan swallowed it down painfully and let his lips fall just slightly from their tightly-pressed state. Hasan took immediate advantage and nudged against them. 

Their mouth was closed but they held the kiss, waiting… for Declan to move against them, he realized. Ever so slowly, he kissed back.

The moment Hasan moved away again he scooted back on the bed, trying to make some space so he could breathe, even just for a moment. A cruel smile followed him and he realized with a jolt that he was only the prey, encouraging his predator’s natural response.

Knees slotted themselves around his hips and weight settled on his lap, pressing up as far as possible and even as he leaned back, arms settled over his shoulders to force him close. A desperate glance up found dark desire staring right back. 

The next kiss took his breath away. Sudden in all the right ways, if it were anyone else. It didn’t end with one anymore but multiple, all rising in intensity as Declan winced and tried to satisfy his captor. To his horror, Hasan let out a soft, breathy moan.

Their hands wandered over his sides, holding him over the shirt by the soft skin right under his ribs and pulling their torsos together. He wondered if they’d realized he was getting thinner: that his ribs protruded where there once was a protective layer of fat. Invasive touches found his spine and traced up it. Maybe it was by design. Maybe they liked his body like this. Declan startled when something wet found his lips.

Wetter, he realized, as the saliva already exchanged had made sure nothing there was particularly dry.

Declan gasped at the unexpectedness of it all, and it was only when that wetness thrust into his mouth that he fully understood. Hasan Badeaux was french kissing him. 

His throat didn’t take well to the instinctive retch, this short moment of reactivity ending in a full fledged coughing fit. Hasan pulled away mercifully to let him finish, but a frown betrayed their dissatisfaction.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I have a strong gag reflex…” Declan heaved, leaning into the moment and hoping beyond all reason that this might deter them.

“Interesting. I don’t recall that being a problem before… and I always thought the bit of the muzzle encroached quite closely on that pretty little throat.” A hand wrapped around it in warning.

“I- It’s more just to do with texture, like-” he gasped when the hand forced him forward, back onto Hasan’s lips. 

Their previous gentle movements were dropped like a facade, not afraid to deter him any longer, simply taking pleasure however they pleased. Their tongue forced its way in marking every surface of his mouth as its own, just as they’d done to his skin. Teeth knocked together and maybe it wasn’t even about physical pleasure: only the mental game of control. 

Hasan had ensured that in the past few months. That Declan would have to defer to them on every single matter.  You wanted to wear something warmer, Dec? Too bad, I want to see you in this today. You want something else to eat? It’s that or the meal supplement. You’re exhausted? Let’s tie you up, I wouldn’t want you getting any sleep now that you asked for it. You followed all the rules and didn’t act out? I’m in a bad mood and you’re going to be my release. 

You can’t stomach making out with the person controlling your each and every move? Too. Fucking. Bad.

A single tear slipped from his left eye and he whimpered in terror, raising his hand to wipe it before they could see-

“Ah, yes, do that again, let it all out,” Hasan groaned. “I can’t get enough of those little noises you make…”

Declan stiffened, immediately realizing his mistake. His tormentor’s eyes were half-lidded with satisfaction, and before he could figure out if they’d noticed him crying, they sat back and placed their hands on their hips.

“Let me taste you in my mouth, now,” they crooned. “It’s only a fair exchange.”

There are only two instances where all is fair, and this was most certainly not love.

A nervous swallow preceded a slow lean and initiation, only trusting himself to lick the outside of their lips, slipping between for just a moment and allowing a high pitched whine. Hasan’s hand gripped the back of his neck again before there was a rustle of fabric and-

Ice. Under his chin, solid unyielding edges, pressing hard, forcing a gasp and fingers flew up to find metal, trace the cylindrical-

Hasan drew back the hammer, safety coming off with a haunting click. Holy shit.

“Last chance.”

Declan stared up, unbelieving, but the insistent nudge of the gun was all too real. 

“Kiss me like your life depends on it.” They leaned close, whispering. “And not just because it does.”

A bolt of adrenaline shot through him, pushing his hands out to take Hasan by the collar of their blouse. He entered their mouth just as they had his, allowing them to take charge. 

Do what you want. I don’t care anymore. Take what you need and go.

The longer it held its ground, the warmer the gun’s muzzle became.

When they sucked on his tongue he moaned properly, asking for more without being forced to say those wretched words. Whether it was worse or better had no bearing on the situation now. It simply was. 

Declan cried out when Hasan finally uncocked the gun and slipped it back into their waistband. The sensation of kissing them was overwhelming, but the absence of an immediate threat offered him more leniency to stop and instead slide fingertips up their arms. In response, Hasan’s hands rested on his shoulders and massaged into them.

“You’re so tense, Declan…” They relished his full name, voice curling possessively around the letters. “Come now, let me take care of you.” 

Hasan laid him back on the mattress, pushing his hands over his head and briefly squeezing them in restraint… but returned to caress his chest instead. Nimble fingers pulled at the buttons on his shirt and Declan had to tilt his head back to hide the clench of his jaw.

“Oh…” They perked up, briefly distracted by his suddenly vulnerable neck. “May I?” 

Fucker, you know damn well I can’t refuse.

He nodded shallowly.

“What was that, baby?”

“You may.” 

A few more buttons fell open, and warm hands pushed the fabric away from Declan’s chest. He could feel Hasan lean over him, see their hands land next to his head, feel hot breath on vulnerable skin, all teasing what was to come. A sudden scratch of a fingernail instead made him jolt, staring at his faux-lover in shock.

“What the hell- nnhh!”  

Hasan pulled him down by the hair, advancing at his neck now that he’d finally lost concentration. The stubble on their chin was obvious now, prickling as they wandered over the skin, only occasionally having the decency to pull away. 

It would certainly have been advantageous to fake a few more sounds at this point, but there was no need to fake anything. There were suddenly teeth at the crook of his neck, pressing in, and lips closing over skin to pull it into their mouth.

“Fuck-!! Hasan!” Declan shouted, desperately resisting the urge to push them off! Were they serious?!

Labored breaths rasped out of him until Hasan finally pulled away, leaving a hickey that would surely stain his skin for weeks. Worse yet, his face was flushed an indecent shade of red from his natural response to such stimuli.

“You always seem so bothered about marks,” Hasan panted, tracing a few raised scars they’d cut into his chest. “And yet…” They shot him a wolfish grin, showing off their incisors and all, and made a show of dragging the back of their hand up his face.

“Who says I’m not?” A slight bite to his words. Just as much as he could get away with. 

They brought their hand to his forehead, judging the temperature there with a thoughtful little wobble of the head. Declan had to swallow down the memory of his mother doing the same whenever he fell ill as a child. No tears. Not right now. 

“Your body, I believe. Certainly over thirty-eight degrees right now.” Declan’s blank look clued them into their error. “Right. Celsius. You’re feverish, pet.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut and they chuckled, giving him a short peck on the lips. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you get what you so clearly want.” 

And then it was happening again, digging a little deeper, pulling a little harder, staying a little longer, breaking him down bit by bit. 

When they decided he needed a third, Declan pressed a hand to the back of their head simply for the illusion of control or some twisted concept of free will. If he was making it happen it couldn’t hurt so badly anymore. 

They drew blood that time.

“Isn’t this color just made for me, darling? I’ll admit, it’s tragic to wash the splatters out whenever you splash on me.” They rubbed it into their lips, pursing them for approval that came in the form of a shaky nod. “Come, taste it.”

Hasan kissed him hard, pushing the metallic taste down his throat before he could accept or refuse. Then they were kissing down his face, sticky marks staining the skin there a rusted red, and returning to their original position.

“Pity… seems the flow has stemmed,” they sighed, swiping a finger and frowning when it came up clean. “Ah, well.” 

Hands returned to his shirt, finally providing some sense of normalcy. At least he was used to Hasan stripping his clothes off. Their tugging was gentle but insistent, pulling the shirt out of his waistband to find the last few buttons. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do this.” Wet warmth traced Declan’s scars: cut, burned, whipped into him… now a playground for their satisfaction. Not that those other actions didn’t already serve the same purpose. Christ. Knowing they’d probably felt this way the entire time was disturbing at the very least.

He settled a hand back onto their head, tracing the bun in an attempt to disguise trembling fingers. Why couldn’t he have been with just one person with hair past their shoulders? Why did he have to have such a type? The only thing he could’ve found attractive about Hasan was their mild muscle definition, but that was washed away the moment they used it against him. 

And yet, his body betrayed him every step of the way. Ticklish goddamn ribs made him squirm even as he tried to disconnect from the sensation and, as soon as his assailant realized, they exploited it just the same as everything else. An involuntary smile caught him off guard; more purposeful movements forced laughter. 

It was exhausting. Useless to hold back, but painful to fuel that zealot. 

At some point they returned to kiss his lips, whispering sweet nothings, spent by their own choices. Then they said the magic words.

“Come on, Dec. Let’s take you back downstairs.”

He broke, then, tears streaming down his cheeks in relief, sobs hiccuping back up from where they’d been stowed away. Balance failed him when his feet hit the ground, but Hasan steadied him before leading the way out. 

The gun’s handle poked out behind them, taunting, shifting with each step of the madman. And somewhere under grief, fatigue, and hurt lay an ashen anger and a stray match. 

He’d never even held a gun before.

Declan followed close on their heels, breathing deep and holding it when he pinched the firearm and slid it out. They didn’t flinch when the muzzle scraped their back or when he grasped the handle with both hands, blood rushing in his ears. The soft click of the safety coming off stopped them. Hasan turned around when he held it up. 

Their face screamed danger, but heavy metal promised an end once and for all.

Come on, Declan. Hold it out, just hit them anywhere, stop fucking shaking you don’t have another chance-!

Hasan lunged, and Declan squeezed the trigger.

.

…

For a moment he decided his reaction was delayed. That his mind was trying to ward off the inevitable trauma of the shot, deafening him preemptively, freezing his field of vision. 

Then Hasan, paused in motion, stood back up straight and tilted their head. 

“And here I was, thinking you’d be smarter than that by now.” 

Wide green eyes watched them saunter up and tear the gun away, popping the magazine out. Empty. The whole time, it was empty. Of course. 

“It seems there’s still more to beat out.”

A swing brought the pistol down on the back of his head with a crack, passing out before he crumpled to the ground.

~~~

Tag List: Hi lovely folks!! You were on my tag list two and a half years ago when I last posted a chapter of this story, so I'm keeping you on just in case! Please don't hesitate to message me if you'd like to be removed, absolutely no hard feelings :D!!! (Except for you Juno, you're trapped here like Declan <3333)

@suspicious-whumping-egg , @as-a-matter-of-whump, @hurting-fictional-people, @stab-the-son-of-a

[serickswrites]

Down By the River

Warnings: kidnapping, threats of violence, threats of death, gun, gunshot

Whumpee sat down on the riverbank, watching the water flow lazily by. It had been a while since they had come to the riverside and think. It was peaceful and quiet here. They needed to sit and think. So much had happened in such a short time. They just needed some time to process.

Their phone buzzed in their pocket. Whumpee pulled it out. Caretaker.

As much as they wanted to speak with Caretaker, to explain themself, they needed more time to think. More time to process and gather their thoughts. So they could explain everything.

"Put that down," a voice that had Whumpee's heart seizing in their chest. Whumpee heard the sound of a revolver being cocked. "I won't ask a second time."

Whumpee tossed their phone out of reach. "You don't have to do this," they began. They could talk Whumper out of this. They had to.

"You're right. I don't. But I want to." Whumper stepped in close to Whumpee, pressing the gun to the back of Whumpee's head.

"Where are you taking me?" Whumpee tried and failed to keep the fear out of their voice.

"Where no one will find you." And Whumper lifted the gun and fired it next to Whumpee's ear.

[sandswirls]

I don’t feel like giving context