#whumpee used as prop

[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.

taglist in reblogs

event: @whumpmasinjuly

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Living Weapon Whumpee part 14

Warnings: forced living weapon/fighter, war, bleeding & bullet wounds, Aftermath of battle, recover whump

And before long, the darkness floating in his head swallowed him whole. And he knew no more.

The climb back to consciousness was slow, and Whumpee was surprised to find himself waking up at all, given his injuries.

The fog in his mind eventually dissipated, and he mustered the strength to open his eyes, finding him staring up at a blank white ceiling. He was in a medical bed, he distantly registered. He lifted a hand to rub his face with a groan, but froze when he realized he wasn't cuffed down.

He glanced next to him, vision clearing to see Flint in a chair next to his bed, leaning forward with chin propped on a fist and watching him intently.

"You... You kept your word..." Whumpee rasped in disbelief.

"I did consider going back on it, though," Flint regretfully admitted, "especially after seeing how you tore through all of Leader's soldiers as if they were paper dolls. I mean, you are bloody lethal in battle. Part of me wondered if it would have been best to end you while you were down, while I could. Prevent any potential future threat from arising."

"Then why didn't you?" Whunpee croaked. "If you're so afraid of me, why didn't you kill me?"

Flint averted his gaze. "Because... while you do have the potential to be a violent, brutal killer... you chose to use your violence to fight and save my daughter. And I forever owe you for that. I saw you be gentle with her right before you passed out, despite the fact that you could have easily taken her life if you wished. You were kind, when you could have been cruel, despite everything you've been through, everything you've endured. You had every right to lash out at my team as well as Leader's, for holding you captive. But you didn't."

Flint's voice was firm and sincere. "In the end, I think you have more capacity for good than I had believed. And--" he was cut off when the medical room door came bursting open, and a young girl came skipping in with a beaming smile.

"Whumpee! You're finally awake!" Myra exclaimed excitedly, and ran over to his bed, holding something behind her back. "I made something for you!!" She brought out a piece of paper and shoved it into Whumpee's hands with a giggle, who took it in surprise, exceedingly careful not to tear it. He unfolded the paper to find another one of her childish drawings. It showed a small stick figure with a frown on its face, and a taller one next to it with exed-out eyes. The tall one had a third stick figure with a poorly-colored blade stabbing it in a cartoonish spray of red colored crayon blood. Weapon killing Leader.

Whumpee's heart soared. It was something of his own, and more than that it was a gift. He'd never been given a gift before. It was so exciting!

Myra squealed and leaned over to give him an awkward, happy hug on the medical bed he was on. Whumpee felt like his heart might burst with joy, such a new feeling for him.

"Myra, do you mind giving me and Weapon a minute to finish talking?" Flint interrupted softly.

"Whumpee," Myra said, "his name is Whumpee."

Flint blinked in surprise, but nodded. "Of course. Whumpee."

Myra smiled sweetly at Whumpee before leaving the way she'd come, and Flint turned to Whumpee. "I intend to keep my promise. You are free, Whumpee... but if you're willing, we could use someone like you on our team."

"...What do you mean?" Whumpee croaked.

Flint sighed heavily. "Leader may be dead now, but his larger forces are still in motion... which means a spectacular battle yet to come. He dealt a strong blow during this ambush -- we lost a lot of good soldiers." He chewed his lip for a moment before continuing. "What I'm saying is... if you so desire, I would ask you to join my team of elite fighters. You would be able to protect more innocent people like Myra, and help end all the senseless bloodshed by winning the war."

Whumpee was stunned by the offer, but Flint's face was all seriousness, no trace of teasing or mockery.

"...Do your men share the same sentiment?" Whumpee wheezed.

Flint winced, not meeting his gaze. "My men will have a hard time accepting my decision to even let you live. You're going to have to work yourself ragged to prove yourself to them before they'll trust you. A lot of them have lost loved ones because of you when you were Leader's war dog, so many have personal grudges against you. You'll face a lot of rejection and oppression from them."

Understandable, Whumpee thought with a twinge of guilt.

"A lot of men will likely go out of their way to cause you trouble," Flint added grimly. "But if you're willing to work with me, I could make this happen. You could fight for a cause. More people like Myra could be saved. But of course... it's your freedom on the line. You have a choice this time. To fight or flee."

A choice... Whumpee mulled it over numbly. It was surreal that he wouldn't be forced to fight as Weapon. That he could choose to instead.

“...Yes,” he said hoarsely. “I would… like to help, if you'll allow.”

The corner of Flint’s mouth quirked up into a grin, and he rested a hand on Whumpee’s shoulder. “Then welcome to my army, Whumpee.”

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @i-don't-know-sal @togzy

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

[allthewhumpygoodness]

When it comes to sick, feverish whumpees - I adore the moment when they're being ushered back to bed after having to leave it for even a short time. Whether they just had to use the bathroom, or confusedly tried to go somewhere on their own, or get some water or medicine, whatever; its the shaky walk back to their bed propped up on the caretaker's arm that gets to me. The way their sheets feel so much colder when they've been away from them, even for a little while, the way they're sweating with the effort of getting up and walking but shivering so hard their teeth chatter at the same time, how they're so dizzy by the time they finally get to lie down that their vision starts to turn black and they just have to lie completely still until they feel even remotely better....

[nat-1-whump]

Mending spells are for objects, healing spells are for people. That was one of the very first things Whumpee learned from Mentor as a spellcaster. Though they weren't quite sure what caused this difference, they also weren't one to test it. Every spell Mentor taught had been passed down and refined for generations, so Whumpee trusted that they had good reason for emphasizing that such a distinction existed.

Well, at least, they never intended to test Mentor's instructions. Now that they'd tripped and fallen into a ditch full of jagged rocks while looking for spell components in the woods, they were considering it as an option.

A boulder scraped against them on the way down, leaving a thick red streak of blood along the edge of the ditch. They groaned as they lay on their side. Each frantic, shallow breath sent a wave of stabbing pain through their body, undoubtedly because of a broken rib or two. As their mind stopped spinning, they realized they were clutching at a large gash that ran across their stomach.

They pushed themself into a sitting position, still cradling their stomach. "Mmnh... Somebody. H-help! Please!" Tears ran down their cheeks, stinging the cuts that dashed across.

Moments passed, yet there was no response. Whumpee began to try to call out again, but they were taken by a coughing fit and fell onto their back. They winced, feeling blood spatter from their lips.

Whumpee cursed themself for using up their one health potion earlier in the day on a stupid scraped knee. And then foolishly separating from the rest of their party, which was surely hours down the path by now. They hadn't even properly learned how to cast a healing spell, one of the more difficult spells to learn, thinking that carrying around a potion meant they wouldn't have to.

At this point, even if a mending spell wasn't specifically meant to heal, they figured it had to be better than nothing. And they knew it well, having used it to repair things countless times. They closed their eyes in an effort to calm themself enough to focus. They took a shaky breath, rested one hand above their stomach and clutched their spell focus with the other, and whispered the spell.

A soft light shone from Whumpee's palm. It flickered for a moment before fading away. Whumpee propped themself up on their elbow to look, only to find that the wound continued to flow steadily, coating their fingers with sticky blood. Nothing had changed. They sank to the ground again, defeated, when they felt a warm tingling sensation across their skin.

A scream tore through their throat as their flesh started to warp, twisting into strips and sprawling across the wound like vines. The pain left them writhing on the ground and choking on splintered cries.

"... Ple-please... It hurts! Make it stop!" They weren't sure to who or what they were calling, but it didn't matter. Every desperate plea went unanswered in the empty forest, as the magic continued its work undisturbed. Whumpee sobbed with each surge of pain. Every movement sent a sharp, burning pain from their wound, but they couldn't hold still, not like this.

Finally, the pain slowed down to a dull, throbbing sensation. Whumpee shuddered and carefully pulled themself back onto their elbows to look. The wound didn't look much better than before, other than having some rough strands of flesh stretched across as if it had been clumsily sewn over with rope. At the very least, it seemed like the spell had pulled the wound shut by a little bit and slowed the bleeding.

Whumpee stared up at the sky. Though they'd left in the bright afternoon, the sky was now fading to a warm purple, speckled with a few faint stars. If this was the best they could heal themself, they had no better choice than to wait and hope someone found them, and soon.

[fairyniceyeah]

💎🦌Day 22: "What's the bad news?"

Poison/Bed-Ridden/Cauterization

@juneofdoom

Day 21: "Let's play a game"

Summary: It was only a stomach flu…

CW: emeto, seizure, hospital

Whumpee/Sickie: Joshua

Caretaker: S.Coups + Jeonghan

Day Zero

"I'm going to turn in for tonight”, Joshua whispered and lifted the blanket he had been sharing with Jeonghan off his legs. 

Jeonghan turned his attention away from the movie that was playing - it was voluntary movie night instigated by BooSeokSoon in Jeonghan’s dorm - towards his fellow 95liner. Joshua had seemed a bit off, a bit pale all day and now he winced as he moved to detangle himself from Seungkwan, who had fallen asleep on his lap. The youngest vocalist just turned in his sleep, mumbling something before becoming still again.

“You okay?”, Jeonghan whispered, not wanting to have the other’s attention on them. He doubted Joshua would appreciate that.

The other vocalist nodded. “I’m fine. Just a bit of a stomach ache. I think dinner might be having an issue with me.” His hand had moved to cradle his abdomen but other than that and his paleness he seemed good. Maybe an early night wouldn't hurt.

“Do you need anything? Meds, hot water bottle?”, Jeonghan questioned but received a shake of Joshua’s head as an answer.

“I’ll just lie down. If I need anything, Cheollie and Minghao-yah are at our dorm after all”, Joshua answered as he stood up and then said a bit louder, so that everybody awake could hear him: “I’m going to sleep. Good night.”

A chorus of “Good night”s followed him out.

Day One 

“Cheollie, it’s not even six am”, Jeonghan complained into his phone which’s ringing had disturbed his sleep, “why are you already up?”

“I haven’t turned in yet”, Seungcheol answered with a sigh. That had Jeonghan’s attention. “Shua is sick. He has been throwing up since he came back from yours and he’s running a decent temperature…”

He wanted to continue but Jeonghan, having rolled onto his stomach to actually be able to use his phone without the danger of falling back asleep, interrupted him: “He told me yesterday he had a stomach ache from dinner. Why didn’t he say he was nauseous?”

“He said it only really got bad when walking and in the elevator. Anyways, I already spoke to a manager - I’m staying home with Shua today. He’s asleep right now and hasn’t been throwing up every half hour since four but I don’t doubt he’ll feel awful when he wakes up. He’s also still at 38.3°C”, Seungcheol explained, “since I haven’t slept and was with him, the manager said that it’s best that I stay to catch up on some sleep and to stop the risk of contagion. So, congratulations, you’re in charge today.”

In the evening Jeonghan had convinced the manager that it didn’t matter if he went to see Joshua - he’d been cuddling with the sick member the whole past evening, if he was to get sick he’d get sick. 

“Hey”, he whispered as he entered his best friend’s bedroom. Joshua was sitting up with a pillow propping him up against the headboard. He was looking ashen-gray and the very definition of sick. There was a bucket sitting on the floor by his head, clean but still wet from the water used to clean it out. Joshua was reading a book though it seemed like he wasn’t taking much in.

“Hi, Han-ah”, Joshua greeted, looking up. He placed the book away without putting a bookmark - so he really hadn’t been paying attention to it. “What are you doing here? You didn’t sneak in, did you? It’s bad enough that I might have infected Cheollie already.”

“I came to see how you were, dumbass. I was worried and besides, we were cuddling. If I am destined to get sick, I already have been cursed”, Jeonghan answered and sat on the edge of Joshua’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Awful”, Joshua mumbled with a sigh, “my stomach feels like it’s been turned into lava. The cramps are terrible, the vomiting is worse. And I’m so cold from the fever.”

As if to make his point, he shivered.

“I’m sorry, baby”, Jeonghan said and brushed a sweat-soaked curl away from where it was stuck to Joshua’s equally sweaty forehead, “is there anything I can do to help?”

“Not really. Before he went to nap, Cheollie already gave me some fever reducers, pain meds and the anti-emetic”, Joshua mumbled before his voice turned bitter, “then I threw it all up and Wonwoo had to help me.”

“You know none of us mind”, Jeonghan comforted, “how long ago was that?”

“I don’t know. Forty-five minutes? Something like that”, Joshua replied, “no, don’t say it.”

Jeonghan smiled at him. “Why don’t we try some plain rice? Mingyu made it specifically for you and gave it his best.”

Joshua snorted, then seemed to regret that as the motion pulled at his aching stomach. “We’re an Asian household. I think we’d die if we didn’t have rice available at all times.”

“Fair enough. I’m actually scared for Jihoon-ah, just thinking about it”, Jeonghan joked. Then he turned serious: “You should really try eating. You need some strength.”

Joshua acquiesced. 

Five minutes after he’d had some rice, Joshua had to bury his face in the bucket again, choking up the few bites he had managed to swallow. As he managed to stop gagging and with trails of spit dangling from his lips, he rasped: “I told you.”

Seungcheol sent Jeonghan home to his dorm half an hour later, claiming Jeonghan needed his sleep - which was rich coming from the insomniac general leader but Jeonghan felt guilty enough about making Joshua eat that he just went quietly. 

Day Two

Jeonghan woke up to a text message.

Seungcheol (04:28): I’m staying home with Shua-yah again.

They all were worried, every single member not really focused on work that day. Joshua hadn’t been able to keep anything down for over twenty-four hours and his fever was steadily burning. Not even the hot water bottle seemed to be able to soothe the pain and sore muscles. He was basically bed-ridden by then, his strength not enough to drag himself to the bathroom even if he wanted to. Jeonghan received a picture from a manager during vocal practice - Seungcheol and Joshua curled up on the leader’s big bed together, both asleep and Joshua so tiny in the eldest’s arms. Nobody needed to know that Jeonghan put it in his folder of his favorite Seventeen pictures.

Jeonghan didn’t go to see them that day.

Day Three

They all had a day off. Jeonghan had forced himself into the other apartment. Seungcheol needed sleep. Joshua needed to get better. And Jeonghan was worried. 

“Go sleep, Cheollie”, Jeonghan whispered, so as not to wake the sleeping Joshua.

“But …”, Seungcheol protested, nervously biting his lip, eyebrows furrowed. “He’s so sick.”

“I know. But you need rest”, Jeonghan said, opening his arms for the exhausted leader. Immediately Seungcheol had thrown himself into the embrace, obviously overly tired and exhausted, overwhelmed by caring for a member so sick. If Joshua wasn’t better soon, they’d have to take him to the hospital. Already the company doctor had given him some IV fluids and meds but it seemed it had only helped make Joshua sleep. “I’ll take good care of him for you.”

Seungcheol nodded, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Wake me if you need help. Anything.”

Jeonghan laughed softly and shoved him out of the door. “Rest, ddaddu.”

Then he was alone with Joshua. He made himself comfortable in the chair beside the bed, opening the book Joshua hadn't touched for days.

“Hey, Shua, baby, wake up for me”, Jeonghan whispered, stroking sweat-soaked hair plastered to Joshua’s forehead back. “You need to eat lunch.”

It took a good while for Jeonghan to get Joshua awake and even then his eyes kept falling shut. It was obvious just how exhausted he was, how ill he was. “Han?”, he rasped, voice nearly gone from repeated vomiting, “I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.”

“I’m sorry, baby, I know”, Jeonghan mumbled. He hated himself for disturbing Joshua’s rest like that but he hadn’t eaten in so long and he was growing weaker. If he didn’t manage to eat until that evening they had agreed to bring him to the hospital. “But you need nutrients and fluids. And we should take your temperature again.”

“I’ll just throw up again”, Joshua protested weakly, “I don’t want to eat.”

“If you don’t eat I’ll take you to the hospital now”, Jeonghan said softly. It wasn’t a threat. It was worry. 

“No. No hospital. Please.”

As Joshua protested, never having been a fan of hospitals and likely feeling too wretched for the trip, Jeonghan nearly wished Joshua had agreed. Except for Wonwoo’s gastroenteritis, he couldn’t remember seeing a member so sick before. Maybe they shouldn’t wait till evening for a hospital visit but getting Joshua to agree looked like an impossible task. Forcing him would be no good either. So Jeonghan sighed and pulled out the thermometer. 

Joshua kept his eyes closed, fingers entangled with Jeonghan’s as they waited for the results. “39.5°C”, Jeonghan read with worry, “Shua, it hasn’t gone down at all today. If anything, it’s up.”

“Just give me some painkillers for my stomach if I have to eat - they’ll help with the fever too”, Joshua muttered. Jeonghan nodded, running his fingers through his hair for a moment. 

“Give me a moment, I’ll get the meds and food.”

Joshua didn’t respond.

“How is he?”, Wonwoo asked from where he was perched on a kitchen chair, watching Mingyu cook. 

“Fever is still high. He doesn’t want to but I told him he needs to eat. I have half a mind to just pack him into a car and drive him to a hospital”, Jeonghan sighed and slumped down on the chair beside him. Wonwoo sighed.

“Do you think it could be what I had?”, he asked worriedly. 

Mingyu turned around from the stove at that moment. “Why aren’t you taking him to the hospital?”

“I don’t know”, Jeonghan said to both questions. “He really doesn’t want to go.”

“He also has a fever going through the roof - he isn’t thinking clearly”, Wonwoo pointed out, “but it’s your choice.”

“I just don’t want to force him. You know he hates hospitals. He doesn’t like needles. I want him to be comfortable”, Jeonghan said with doubt in his heart, “can you make him some soup, Mingyu-yah?”

“One step ahead of you, hyung”, Mingyu said, pointing to the stove, “it’s already done.”

“Oh, thanks.” Maybe Jeonghan shouldn’t have been surprised. They all were so close with each other and caring for each other in their own ways had easily become second nature to them.

When Jeonghan entered the bedroom again, carrying a steaming bowl of soup, Joshua was fast asleep again. There was a bit of bile in the bucket, Jeonghan saw, grimacing. Joshua had nothing left in himself to throw up.

Waking Joshua was hard. No matter what Jeonghan tried - whispering his name, gently shaking his shoulder, calling his name loudly, using the cool cloth to try to shock him into wakefulness - it didn’t work.

Jeonghan felt himself start to tremble when he realized that, no, Joshua wasn’t asleep. This was not sleep at all, it was unconsciousness. Fear was gripping Jeonghan’s heart as he stumbled a step back. Was his fever that high? As he lifted his hand to touch Joshua’s forehead he found it burning.

“Cheollie”, he yelled, panicked. He was so out of his depth. “Seungcheol! I need help!”

The door behind him crashed open, admitting Mingyu and Wonwoo first - having been the closest - followed by a half-asleep leader who suddenly looked wide-awake the moment he laid his eyes on Joshua and the trembling Jeonghan.

“What happened?”, he asked, pushing past the other two rappers.

“I went to get him some food but when I came back, he … Shua … he wouldn’t wake …”, Jeonghan started, trying to suppress his tears. He whirled around as Joshua made a sound, somewhere between a groan and a grunt. 

Jeonghan heard somebody start to sob when he took in the scene. Joshua’s body was tense on the bed, back arched as his eyes were rolling behind closed lids. Everyone of his appendages was trembling and then…

Then Joshua began to seize.

Jeonghan was helpless to watch, as Seungcheol ordered Mingyu to call an ambulance and told Wonwoo to time … it. His eyes were fixed on Joshua, who was groaning, making these awful sounds that didn’t even sound quite human as his body was thrown from side to side. Seungcheol ran to pull the blanket off Joshua, receiving a kick in the stomach by an uncoordinated limp, but he didn’t even seem fazed.

Two hours later the four of them, Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Mingyu and Jeonghan, were sitting in a waiting room in a random hospital. They hadn’t seen Joshua since the ambulance had sped off with him shortly after they had arrived. The paramedics had been mumbling about low blood pressure but a too high pulse, a fever burning over 40°C and bad dehydration. Joshua had looked so small, hooked up to so many machines.

Now, all they could do was wait. 

Seungcheol was pacing. Wonwoo was just staring at the opposite wall. Mingyu was trying to distract himself with his phone. Jeonghan hadn’t yet stopped crying.

They had let the other know, of course, leaving Jun, Hoshi and Woozi in charge. It would normally be a disaster waiting to happen but as far as Jeonghan knew they were all just gathered in the 8th floor dorm waiting for news and taking comfort in each other's presence.

Jeonghan startled badly as the door opened and a doctor walked in. Hopeful eyes turned up to her and she gave them a tight nod in greeting. 

“Joshua-ssi is asleep at the moment. Our fears of a burst appendix or other infected organs have been proven wrong and his fever has gone down a bit. He didn’t have another seizure”, she said. Mingyu breathed out in relief, leaning his head on Wonwoo’s shoulder, who pulled him close. Seungcheol had stopped pacing, instead listening intensely. 

“What’s the bad news?”, Jeonghan asked quietly. Why would the doctor start with telling them what it wasn’t? Why wasn’t she saying what was wrong with Joshua?

The doctor sighed. “It appears as if Joshua-ssi is suffering from Escherichia coli or in short E.Coli.”

Seungcheol frowned. “Food poisoning? Food poisoning can do that?”

“Basically, yes”, the doctor said, “E.Coli is food poisoning. But in Joshua-ssi’s case it has turned into bacteremia. It’s an infection or rather poisoning of the bloodstream caused by bacteria entering the blood due to a scrape or cut. We think that due to the excess vomiting Joshua-ssi’s esophagus was torn a bit, causing the bacteria he was throwing up to enter his blood. Due to this, he developed sepsis.”

“Oh, God”, Seungcheol mumbled and collapsed into the chair next to Jeonghan. The younger gently took his hand, needing the support as much as the leader did.

“How are you treating him?”, Wonwoo asked, as always able to keep a clear head.

“We put him into an artificial coma so his body can rest. He is receiving oxygen and antibiotics to treat the infection”, the doctor explained.

“Is … is he going to be okay?”, Jeonghan whispered, not daring to look up from where he was fiddling with Seungcheol’s team ring. 

“If the medication helps as much as we hope, yes. But we need to wait and see how it progresses before we promise anything”, she answered.

“Can we see him?”, Seuncgheol said.

“Not yet. We’re keeping him in isolation for now, so he can’t get into contact with any other germs. If he gets better in the next two days, you’ll be able to see him.”

Day One of Joshua being able to return to their schedules was likely one of the best the group had ever experienced. 

Two weeks after the initial hospitalization, including three days in coma, Joshua was allowed to return home to the dorm. He was still weak, pale and mostly sleeping the days away. Three days later the fever returned and he was bedridden in the hospital again. It was touch and go for a while.

But now, nearly two months later, Joshua was with them at the photo shoot scheduled for that day. All members, even those who were already finished with theirs and allowed to leave, stuck around to watch him together.

Joshua was really glowing under the flood lights.

Jeonghan couldn’t help but smile as Seungcheol pressed his hand.

“He’s okay, Han-ah. He’s okay.”

Day 23: "You're doing great"

Masterlist link: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's June of Doom 2024

[iwritewhump]

"Let them go"

day twenty-six of whumptember

739 words

warnings: drugging, kidnapping, conditioned whumpee

~

Living Weapon slides across the floor of the van as it skids to a stop. Handler hops out of the driver’s seat and opens the door, “Hurry up.” 

It crawls out of the van and smooths out its shirt. It huffs and stares at the ground. 

Handler tilts her head accusingly and hisses, “Do you have something you need to say?” 

“No,” it replies, wringing its hands behind its back. “Let’s just…get this over with.” 

Handler smiles tightly and claps Living Weapon on the back. It tenses under her hand and exhales sharply. It closes its eyes and tightens its hand into a fist, its nails digging into the palm of its hand. 

Handler walks forward, snapping her fingers at Living Weapon to get it to follow her.

She stops right outside the boundary to the park and pulls Living Weapon under a tree. She points around the trunk and sighs. “There’s Sidekick. Make sure no one is watching and bring him back here.” 

It nods and glides into the park. A parent sitting on a bench glances at it and nudges another parent, soon everyone in the park will be looking at it. 

It curses and runs over to Sidekick with a plastered on smile. “Hi, I’m sorry, but can I borrow your phone? I need to make a call but mine’s dead.” 

Sidekick looks it up and down before shrugging. He holds the phone out to Living Weapon. It sighs gratefully and takes the phone in its hands. 

It dials a phony number and looks at Sidekick apologetically, “I’m so sorry, but do you mind if I go just right over there?” it points to where Handler is hiding in the shadow. “It’s a bit private. I mean-if you want to you can come but I don’t want everyone in the park being able to hear. Y’know?”

Sidekick nods enthusiastically and practically ushers it out of the wide open park. As soon as they pass the gate to the park, Living Weapon drops the phone onto the ground and when Sidekick bends down to pick it up, it wraps an arm around his throat. It clasps its other hand over his mouth and tightens the arm around his throat. 

“I’m sorry,” it whispers, pulling him to his feet and dragging him over to Handler. Sidekick thrashes in its arms, trying to scream through its Living Weapon’s hand. Living Weapon drags him behind Handler’s hiding spot and lifts him off his feet. 

Handler steps out of the shadows and smiles cruelly, “Sidekick, it’s been a while.” 

His breathing becomes erratic and Living Weapon can feel his pulse quicken through the vein on his neck. He shakes his head and tries to stomp his foot on its. 

Handler walks up to him and puts her hand on his cheek, “Now, now. Is that any way to treat an old friend?” 

He exhales sharply and glares daggers at her. She rolls her eyes and waves her hand dismissively. She looks at Living Weapon and nods, “You know what to do?” 

It shakes its head, tears springing into its eyes. She purses her lips and nods, “Yes. You do. So let’s see some action.” 

In one swift movement, Living Weapon removes the hand around Sidekick’s throat and pulls the syringe out of its pocket. It uses its teeth to take the cap off and sinks the needle into Sidekick’s shoulder. It presses on the plunger and watches as the almost clear liquid is pushed into Sidekick’s arm. 

Sidekick starts to go limp almost as soon as it pulls the needle out of his arm. He looks at Handler and asks, “What the hell was that?” 

“I’m not…one hundred percent sure to be honest.” She says, tilting her head. 

Living Weapon drops the syringe and props Sidekick up against itself. It wraps its arms around his torso and says again, “I’m sorry.” 

Handler waves her hand and scoffs, “Let him go.” 

Living Weapon takes a breath and looks at Sidekick, limp in its arms, and stares at Handler. She stares at him, shock painted on her face. 

“Living Weapon…” she warns, voice spine-chillingly low, “Let. Him. Go.” 

It looks at him once again, and it wishes it could keep a hold of him. It wishes it could disobey Handler. 

Sidekick falls to the ground with a stomach turning thump and the leaves crunch underneath him, releasing their moldy scent into the air.

[livingforthewhump]

Whumper let out a long sigh as he stretched back on the couch, back cracking against the cushions. Whumpee was curled in the corner, his own back aching, but the protective instinct to make himself as small as possible won over any kind of pain he felt.

Unfortunately, that didn’t stop Whumper from looking over at him. Nothing he did ever seemed to stop Whumper. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his long legs, and surveyed Whumpee.

Then he reached out a hand. “Come here.”

Whumpee hesitated, but the decision had already been made for him. Whenever Whumper spoke, Whumpee never had any choice but to obey, never mind his feelings on the matter. Shakily, he peeled himself up from the floor and walked over to Whumper. It felt weird to be standing over him. Whumper was so much bigger, so much taller, and Whumpee wasn’t usually on his feet a lot anyway. Still, Whumper’s gaze was as much a prison as anything else, and there was no question as to who had the power there.

Whumper looked Whumpee over, humming in thought. “You don’t have your collar on right now. But I don’t particularly want to go get it…” Whumpee’s heart jolted and he took a half step back. The collar was never a good sign. Whumper’s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back in with an iron grip. “See, that’s exactly why you need it, dumb thing,” he chided.

After a moment’s pause, he reached up and slid his tie off over his head, keeping it knotted. Using the hand holding Whumpee’s wrist, he tugged Whumpee down, successfully pulling the tie over the other man’s head and securing it at his neck.

“There we go,” Whumper murmured, using the tie to tug Whumpee in closer. Whumpee's throat bobbed in a swallow. The tie was pulled too tight by Whumper’s hand, digging into his adam’s apple and all but choking him. The tension tugged him into an odd angle, leaning over Whumper on the edge of his balance, centimeters away from collapsing on top of him, leaving his shaky core to work overtime to keep him upright.

It certainly didn’t help when Whumper’s hand left his wrist and started moving up his side, ridiculously warm through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Stop—” Whumpee tried, but it ended in a grunting cough when Whumper jerked the tie, sending Whumpee toppling forward.

His arms flew out to catch him, landing on the back of the couch on either side of Whumper’s head, caging him in in an odd imitation of the pose Whumper was so fond of taking with Whumpee. Still so obvious to them both that an imitation was all it was. All the power lay with Whumper—not in the circumstances Whumper had forced them into or the resources Whumper had, as Whumpee had tried to convince himself at first. It lay within who Whumper was, and who Whumpee was before him. Nothing more than clay to be molded. A game to be played.

Whumper’s arm was looped around Whumpee’s waist now, stopping him from pulling away. His arms were shaking from the effort of holding himself up like this.

“You look scared, Whumpee…are you?” Whumper murmured, eyes sparkling. His voice dipped down low. “Answer me, boy.”

Whumpee swallowed thickly. “Y-yes.”

“Yes…?” The word was a warning, as was the slight tightening of the hand around his waist.

“Yes sir.” His eyes screwed shut as he spoke. A mistake. Whumper tugged him forward further, bending his elbows more and making him tremor from the strain.

“You think you don’t deserve this. Is that right? You think you deserve to be free of me?” There wasn’t any of the anger Whumpee expected in his voice, mere curiosity and amusement.

Whumpee opened and closed his mouth, entirely unsure how to respond. Whether to be honest and give the wrong answer or to face the punishment for lying.

Whumper seemed to take his hesitation as its own answer. “That’s okay, I’m not mad.” His hand left his waist—other still firmly grabbing the tie—and slid up his chest to take hold of his chin while Whumpee arched away from the touch. “I understand where you’re at. Up until now I’ve only ever hurt you, haven’t I? And you can’t understand why, so you assumed I was being unjust. Does that sound right?”

Whumpee’s heart clambered in his chest. Nothing Whumper had just said was wrong, exactly…but it also didn’t sound right.

“Whumpee?”

“Mm—yes sir,” he whispered.

“Good.” His voice was silky and gentle and it terrified Whumpee more than anything else he’d done. “Relax, now, boy, I’m just talking to you. You can let go, I’m not going to let you fall.” His arms wrapped around Whumpee’s middle, bracing around him as he obeyed and let his arms fall limp under his weight. Whumper supported him, maneuvering him to sit on the couch beside him with his knees tucked underneath him.

Then he grabbed onto the tie again, making Whumpee to lean over his lap, shoulder pressed against Whumper’s chest.

“You fought me so much in the beginning. Do you remember? It wasn’t that you were afraid of being hurt—that’s only natural. Your defiance was against me. You didn’t want me anywhere near you, no matter what I was going to do.” As he spoke, Whumper traced his hand across Whumpee’s curved back, his shoulders, slipping into his hair. Whumpee held back his very breath for fear of attracting even more attention.

He leaned forward suddenly, lips brushing up against Whumpee’s ear as he murmured, “You were very bad to me, Whumpee.” And then he relaxed again, and eyes roving over Whumpee’s half-cowering form. “But I’m sure we’ll make up for that later. In the meantime, I’ve had to give you a form of exposure therapy, if you will.”

Whumpee shuddered at the term, sucking a breath in through his teeth when Whumper’s hand found his face, cupping his cheek and turning it up to look at him. From the way he was leaning against Whumper, they were very, very close together.

“I had to hand-feed you the worst possible scenario, little thing. You were rebellious no matter what I planned to do, so I worked with you until you were okay with whatever I wanted to do by helping you not fight against the most scary things. And just look at you now.” His thumb stroked over Whumpee’s face for emphasis, then he wrapped both arms around the poor boy’s shoulders and pulled him fully into his chest. “You still don’t understand yet, all the way. But it’s helped. Hasn’t it helped you feel better, Whumpee?”

His throat burned. He wanted to throw up. He wanted to cry. More than anything he just wanted to not be here anymore. “…yes sir.”

Whumper’s arms squeezed tight for a moment before relaxing, sinking Whumpee into his lap to lay down. “It has, I can tell. And we’re not done yet. We’ll keep working until you’re willing to let me do anything, so long as it’s me who wants it.”

Whumpee’s bottom lip wobbled. He hated the way Whumper looked down at him, like he was a sacrificial lamb on an altar, just waiting to be destroyed for the sake of his own sins. Whumper’s hand pet over him absently before grabbing ahold of the tie and wrenching it tight, cutting off Whumpee’s air completely.

“Don’t worry, boy. I’ll make sure to keep you needy in the meantime. After all, what’s the real joy of receiving something if you don’t want for it first?”

—

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[whumpshaped]

Whumpee being used as a prop! They're drugged or ensorcelled, maybe, and everyone around them is just manhandling them, prodding them, preparing them for something, talking about them like they aren't even there... is it experiments? is it some kind of ritual? are they just weirdos? Whumpee can't focus enough to figure out what's happening...

-- @oliversrarebooks

tw noncon drugging, noncon touching, dehumanisation

Whumpee felt… slow. Maybe that was the best way to describe it. It was the only way they knew how, because every other word felt weird in their head as they thought about the situation.

They weren’t being hurt, definitely not. The people around them were treating them relatively gently, pushing and pulling them around without much roughness, and certainly without malice. It was all so professional. Clean.

So what was it they felt? Exposed, maybe, when their clothes were removed. Unnerved, somewhere beneath the drug-induced haze, at the prospect of being measured and studied by a group of strangers. Relieved, even, that none of it was painful.

But most of all, they felt slow. Too slow to comprehend the words being spoken around them. The conversation moved on without their input, although Whumpee was sure they must’ve been talking about them. They were slow to follow the orders, which was exactly why the people had to move them around on their own; drag them here, shove them there, turn them around, poke and prod and position.

There wasn’t any malice behind it. Disregarding their humanity seemed to be a choice born of pure practicality, really.

“So? What do you think?” one of them asked, and Whumpee was glad that the drugs made them a little slow. If they hadn’t, they might’ve tried to reply and made a fool of themself. Just because the guy was looking at them, it didn’t mean they were talking to them.

“It’s not bad, I guess,” someone else answered. “We can keep them. But… Ah, I don’t know, it’s nothing special. I don’t even know what category to put them in.”

“Put them in ‘non-specified’ for now.”

“You know those always do badly. People love their little labels.”

Whumpee didn’t even flinch when their captor grabbed them by the chin, turning their face this way and that. “You’re right. Maybe we shouldn’t force it.”

“Discarding them feels like a waste, though.”

“No…” Whumpee murmured. “Don’t… Don’t discard…”

The people looked at each other. “Have you given them the correct dose?”

“Yeah, same as everyone else.”

“So why are they talking?”

“Maybe we could use that? Tick the resilient box?”

“You’re right. That’s a pretty good one, too.” Their captor let go, patting them on the cheek before stepping back. “We’ll find a use for you, don’t you even worry.”

[whump-writings]

Since you asked!

A Whumper kidnaps a Whumpee to use as bait to lure Caretaker into a trap. Bonus if Whumpee is bound and gagged when Caretaker finds them!!!

-- @whumperofworlds

Ace is not canonically dead. This was just a drabble me and my boyfriend did ^^ (also technically its whumpee being lead into the trap be we can ignore that)

___

The room was quiet. Luis didn't know where he was or really how he got there. All he remembered was waking up to a rat crawling over his foot, as he was being tied to some chair.

He blacked out again (he assumes he was hit over the head), only to wake up fully tied down to the chair in under him, duck tape all over his lower jaw making any attempt at talking impossible.

What made it worse was the strange man behind him, leaned against the back of the chair and fiddling with some kind of fabric he could see.

After what felt like hours of sitting in silence, his body aching in pain, the creak of a door opening could be heard.

__

Seek sprinted down the hall of the old science lab, turning to the door that was propped open with a brick and running inside the room.

He skid to a halt at the sight of his boyfriend tied up, looking confused and panicked. He was wearing a clean blue suit, a color he absolutely despised, and his face was peppered with cuts and patches of grime and dirt.

What was worse, though, was the man standing behind Luis. In his hands was a small white drawstring bag, a bit of red staining the bottom.

“Sir…” seeks voice was dry as he addressed mystery.

“Ah seek, long time no see, catch.” he tossed the bag to seek, which seek caught.

He looked it over, turning it around in his hands. “What is this?”

"why it's in your hands, take a look for yourself" he squatted beside luis, resting a hand on his shoulder and making sure he stared directly to seek.

Seek slowly pulled the bag open. Inside was,

Inside was a beautiful ring, with a intricate goat carving in it, two beautiful red gems for the eyes,

And a human finger.

"Call it a parting gift,” he lazily smiled, “it being one of the many parts of him you'll be receiving until my demands are met.”

Seek doesn't look up from the sight. He's quiet for a long moment. “What.. What are your demands?”

"Ace, seek, ace, you've denied me and yourself this for too long,” mystery sighs and shakes his head, “I mean for Pete sake seek nine fingered nandy here was supposed to be let go ages ago, yet you completely disregarded everything I had set out for you to do"

"you keep saying you'll be obedient and then you go right fucking behind my back" 

“Sir I'm going to do it I promise I-Ill kill ace-” Seek takes two small steps forward, not even realizing in his panic.

A hand with claw like edges grabs Luis by the hair.

"One step closer and we'll see how big his brain really is.” he slightly loosens his grip, “Look seek it's gotten to the point where you're losing your entertainment value, it's tired, your betrayals and misgivings, with all the chances i've given you?” he shakes his head, making eye contact the whole time.

“No more chances seek, no more games, keep your cards close to heart and hand your aces over to me, we're done playing."

Tears run down Luis’s face as he screams at Seek. Muffled by the duct tape, Seek could only assume what his love might be saying. Begging for help? For Seek not to hurt Ace, or something else Seek wasn't aware of.

“I-I’m sorry sir. I'm sorry.” he looks at Luis for a moment, his eyes betraying all his fear and regret he had, then looks back at mystery. “I’ll do it right away.”

"No talk, no nothing, hes to be killed without remorse, expect more gifts within the next thirteen hours if it is not completed,” Mystery lets go of Luis’s hair to make a shoo motion, “now do leave my sight before Luis loses anything else."

Seek looks at Luis one last time, his eyes shining with tears, before he shifts into the ground to leave, the white draw bag simply laid on the floor.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

genuine qustion, bc i dont understand whump, why do you like it? whats the appeal? am i missing something?

I'm going to assume from the wording of this question that you already have an idea of what whump is, and you're asking why someone would want to read/write it, but if not here is a good post summarizing the genre.

This post is divided into two parts below the cut: the appeal of whump for me, and an explanation of why I like whump.

For me, personally, the appeal of whump comes from putting a character (whether that be an someone else's character, my original character, or a nameless whumpee) in Situations (with or without a whumper), and then having the difficult recovery or healing process (usually with a caretaker). Sometimes I deviate from this pattern, such as omitting the recovery, but that is usually my main focus.

A bit more emphasis on the comfort in hurt/comfort, but there's also hurt in the comfort.

My main love of whump stems from the tropes I enjoy:

Used as bait (where a whumpee is captured with the intent on using them to lure the caretaker into trying to rescue them in order to capture the caretaker too). I like this one because of the suspense of knowing it's a trap, and wondering if the caretaker will manage to rescue the whumpee, or get captured themselves.

Magic whump (whump but in the fantasy genre). This one gives more possibilities or twists on usual whump tropes by adding magic into the mix. Combined with my love for fantasy writing.

Captivity whump (a whumpee captured by a whumper, usually including various forms of torture). This trope is very versatile. Why were they captured? What does the whumper gain by torturing them? So many possibilities. Not to mention the rescue afterwards!

Sickfic (whumpee is sick, usually with a caretaker). Someone else mentioned this before, I don't remember who otherwise I would've linked them, but illness is something rarely seen in existing media. When a piece of media has whump, it's usually torture or a fight scene, but I've only ever seen sickness a handful of times. I like the idea of a character having all these cool abilities but still getting the common cold, especially when they have someone else to take care of them. Also it's easier to write from experience for this then, say, getting stabbed.

PTSD whump (when a character has trauma). This is more of a recovery trope. I hate it when a piece of media has a character go through an incredibly traumatizing event and then as soon as they're out, they're perfectly fine mentally. Let the character have ptsd, dammit! I don't really write this often, but when I do I love writing the nightmares in particular.

Immortal whump (with a character who, for whatever reason, cannot die). I love this one because it opens up even more possibilities for whumping. It usually depends on how the character's immortality works, but they can take a lot more damage than any other whumpee.

Realism in whump (realistic injuries, illness, and recovery). Really just a preference, as I'm studying in the medical field and already know a lot about how the human body works, so I use that knowledge and apply it to my writing. For example, fainting as portrayed in hollywood movies is a lot different from how fainting actually is. Involves a fair amount of research, but I personally think it's worth it.

(side note: I haven't really found any tropes which I strongly dislike, but out of personal preference I avoid smut and nsfw whump such as rape)

As to why I like whump? This was a tough question to answer, to properly articulate. It's fiction. And writing give me freedom to do pretty much anything to the characters and through the characters. I suppose whump is another way to exercise that creativity. "I know how the character reacts to this Situation, but what about this other Situation?"

I know some other writers use whump writing to work through their trauma, as catharsis. Props to them, but I don't write whump for that reason. I always liked putting my characters in Situations, and then a couple years ago discovered what whump was, went "that's a thing?!" and basically dove in head first.

The Tumblr whump community itself has also been very sweet and welcoming, I draw a lot of inspiration from the other writers, especially when I'm trying to figure out what to write next. I doubt I would still be writing whump if the community wasn't as welcoming, and I'm very glad it's not the case. If you go back in my archive, the first writing I started posting was whump. Nameless whump turned into oc whump, which turned into posting about my WIPs. So if the whump community gatekept me out, I probably wouldn't be posting any writing at all (and that's very sad to think about).

I hope this post was helpful to you! I can't speak for other members of the whump community, these opinions and motives are my own. If you have any more questions feel free to ask.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

another idea for the Mermaid Ask Game 👀👀: 4 5 10

(you don't have to do this one if you don't want to. it just seemd to fun to me not to ask about)

Hi, Space Rabbit! Just a heads up for everyone- you all are more than welcome to request as many things as you want! Back to Space Rabbit- I’m happy to do this request for you! Thanks for requesting this, here you go!

From this ask game

Caretaker held their chin in their hands, their elbows propped up on the rim of Whumpee’s bathtub. Whumpee was sitting on the bathroom floor, holding an ancient-looking book that seemed to have been warped by spending many years in saltwater.

“Okay, okay,” Whumpee said, flipping pages, “it says to turn you human, we need water-”

“Check,” Caretaker said, scooping up a handful of water from the bathtub, letting it run through their fingers.

“a mer and a human-”

“Check!” Caretaker booped Whumpee’s nose.

Whumpee giggled.

“And this incantation.”

“Check check check!” Caretaker sang.

“I guess I just recite it then?” Whumpee asked, “you’re gonna love being human- I can’t wait to take you to a theme park, the library, an arcade- just- EEEEEE!”

Whumpee squealed with delight just thinking about it.

Whumpee read over the spell, then dipped their hand in the water. They then took Caretaker’s hand and started to read.

“Worlds collide and worlds divide,” Whumpee recited, “let fins recede and legs merge. Trade skin for scales, and water for air. Let mer become human, and human become mer.”

Whumpee finished, then looked at Caretaker, who was still very much a mer.

“Nothing’s happening,” they said.

Caretaker, however, looked more worried than disappointed.

“Whumpee, I don’t think that incantation was- GAH!”

Caretaker was blinded by glowing white and blue bubbles rising up from the bathtub, as was Whumpee. When the shower of foam faded, Caretaker’s ears lost their webbing, their gills had closed up, and they had a pair of human legs.

“Woah,” Caretaker said, admiring their new appendages.

“Uh, Caretaker?”

Whumpee looked down at where their legs should’ve been. Caretaker followed their gaze.

“Oh fan worms,” they said, eyes wide.

“Yeah, that,” Whumpee said numbly.

“We should’ve read it before you recited it!” Caretaker said bitterly, “check and see if there’s a way to switch us back!”

“I-I would, C-Caretaker, but,” Whumpee swayed in place, “I suddenly don’t feel so-”

Caretaker clambered out of the tub, not quite sure how to use their legs, managing to catch Whumpee just in time.

“You’re dehydrated,” Caretaker noted.

“You sound like my mom,” Whumpee said hoarsely.

“Come on, into the tub with you,” Caretaker said.

It was a struggle, and they fell down several times, but Caretaker managed to get Whumpee in the bathtub. Once that was done, Caretaker sat down on the bathroom floor.

Whumpee stared at them for a moment, blushed, and quickly looked away.

“What?” Caretaker tilted their head.

“You, um, you have- uh, here!”

Whumpee grabbed a towel and tossed it to Caretaker.

“What’s this for? I don’t mind being wet you know.”

“Mhm,” Whumpee said, quite flustered, “but uh, humans these days typically don’t, uh, well they usually wear- I mean-”

Oh. Oh. Caretaker draped the towel over their lower half.

“It’s safe now, Whumpee,” Caretaker said.

Whumpee looked back at Caretaker, breathing a sigh of relief.

“So, about that reverse incantation…”

Caretaker nodded, handing Whumpee the old book.

“No. No. No. No,” Whumpee said, flipping through pages, “oh- what was it you said- fan worms? Oh fan worms.”

“No reverse incantation?” Caretaker asked.

“Oh there is a reverse incantation,” Whumpee said, “but you can only do it under the light of a full moon. That won’t be for another week.”

“Oh fan worms.”

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[thoughtsonhurtandcomfort]

Shrink Arinn and give to Shae :)

Shrink Ray

CW: tiny whumpee, demon whumpee, captivity, experimentation, lab whump, shrunk, tail whump, broken bones, dislocation, caretaking, pain medicine, passing out, open ended

----

"What a rare one you are," the self-proclaimed scientist muses. He looms over Arinn, who is now mere inches tall and lying terrified on the lab table.

The man takes the demon's tail between his fingers in a way he probably considers gentle, but to Arinn it's like being clamped in a vise. When he cries out and tries to squirm out of his grip, it only tightens. Brittle bones snap like twigs and Arinn wails at the top of his tiny lungs.

"Where to put you..."

To Arinn's horror, his captor lifts him from the table. Even at this size his weight is too much for his fragile, broken tail. It pulls taut and pops as several joints dislocate at once. The pain makes him dizzy and for a moment he forgets to breathe.

By the time he is set inside a tank, Arinn is almost hyperventilating. He can't move his tail, can only feel it throb and twitch on the ground. A shadow falls over him when the man puts the enclosure's lid back on and locks it tight. Then the whole room darkens as he turns out the lights and leaves.

The moment he is gone Arinn hears the patter of tiny footsteps approaching. Through his blurry vision he just barely makes out a figure kneeling beside him.

"Are you okay?"

Arinn can't answer. He gasps and reaches a trembling hand for his tail, wanting to hold it, soothe it, keep it safe...

His cellmate gasps too.

"Oh...that looks bad..."

Fingers that aren't his own touch Arinn's tail and he shakes his head urgently, whimpering "ah - please d-don't - it h-hurts..."

The touch disappears with a soft 'sorry!' from its source.

"I'm Shae," says that same little voice. "He caught me, too. What's your name?"

Arinn takes a few deep breaths. "Arinn."

"Hold on, Arinn...I have something that will help..."

Footsteps fade away again. Trembling, Arinn curls up on his side and watch as the little creature hurries into a fake, decorative cave-like structure. Inside sits half a pill. Shae chips some of it off with a sharp pebble and collects it into a cup the size of a thimble. Arinn closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again Shae has returned to his side.

"Can you sit up? I have medicine. For the pain."

Slowy, carefully, Arinn props himself up and leans back against the wall of the tank. He glances down at his tail and touches it gingerly. Then he looks at Shae, taking in his weary but kind face for the first time. Something about him eases Arinn's frayed nerves. He hands Arinn the cup full of water mixed with the crushed pill.

"It's human strength, so it's strong," he warns.

"Good," Arinn breathes. He drinks the whole thing in just a few gulps. Panting, he wipes his mouth on his arm and leans his head back against the glass.

Shae sits beside him and folds his hands in his lap.

"You'll be okay. He doesn't hurt us on purpose...usually. He just...collects us."

Arinn tips his head to one side to look at him.

"How long have you been here?" he asks.

"...too long." Shae pulls his knees up to his chest. "I don't even know what season it is."

"Spring."

"...then, almost a year."

Arinn feels sick at the thought. This is only one tank of many that take up shelves lining the whole room. He looks around and can make out other small figures in most of them. Some peer back at him from their own prisons, their gazes hollow and hopeless.

Alex will find me, he thinks. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on that thought, forcing himself to hang onto it no matter how impossible it seems.

Soon the medicine kicks in, bringing sweet relief. All the tension eases from him. He starts to droop to one side, and Shae catches him and eases him into his lap. He holds Arinn as he falls asleep.

[cepheusgalaxy]

And it's done! Props to @letitbehurt for the yummy prompt. I'm an absolute sucker for stoic whumpees, so I chose her prompt to write first!

CWs: Exhaustion whump, bad decisions

Whumpee didn’t feel very good.

She wavered it off, though, shooking their head and massaging their temples for a second. Whatever it was, she didn’t have time for it right now.

Their plan couldn’t just wait for another day. Their team was waiting.

Whumpee took a deep breath, and then another, and composed themselves together, as they should.

They finished getting dressed, a black cardigan and the leather boots they’ve been given, and dragged themselves to the living room.

The capitain didn’t notice them arriving. She seemed to be looking over a map, and when Whumpee got closer, they may have saw her biting her lip, but she wasn’t sure.

Whumpee saw the team members arriving and she straightened her spine and got in a proper position. That made the room spin a bit more than it should.

— Is everybody here? — Capitain said. — I’ve talked to our mole, and they said today is the day we can infiltrate. We will rehearse the plan one more time and... — She looked at her. — Whumpee? Are you hearing me?

Whumpee had lost balance for a second, and she was quick to get herself together and stand straight.

— Yes, ma’am.

Capitain didn’t send her another look, and started repassing the plan. Whumpee resisted the urge to close their eyes. Why was everything so bright today? Her head was pounding for some reason, and she desperately longed for them to get over the plan and make silence.

They tried to stay focused on Capitain’s words and on the map, but the roadlines where getting mashed together and it was being hard to focus. Well, no problem, she thought, a little frustrated. Whumpee had already decorated the map and the plan, and prepared themselves to every variable. They had spent nights in clear rehearsing everything and thinking of solutions to everything that could go wrong. That’s why they were sent here, after all.

--

Capitain finished talking and let her team give another look at the blueprints and roadways they would take, and she fought the urge to rehearse the plan just once more. They unfortunately didn’t have time for it. Yea, time, it was a precious thing. They had to get in, and then out. She bit her lip and ran her hand through her hair.

She turned to Whumpee. Yes, that’s right, she thought. Whumpee had been working with them for a few months now, and they were brilliant. She was an agent from another organization, a recently-made ally, and were sent to help them. Whumpee was strong, disciplined, smart, efficient, and now, a fundamental part of all their plans.

She was always stable and composed and... Capitain squinted her eyes. They didn’t seem to be very focused today. But that should be okay, right?

— Liberated, everybody. — She clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention. All heads turned back to her — Remember your roles and finish the preparatives. We go at dawn. — As both anxious and excited confirmations started leaving the room along with the members and Whumpee moved herself to leave as well, Capitain rose her hand. — Not you, Whumpee. I want to talk. Are you ready for tonight already?

Capitain’s eyes got a glimpse of a flinch, but she wavered it off. Whumpee wasn’t one to flinch.

— Miss? — They answered in a slightly lower voice than they usually would.

Capitain didn’t know exactly how to get the information that she wanted. She hadn’t worked with Whumpee for much time, and still hadn’t had the chance to know her, besides her brilliant usefulness, but maybe...

— Are you sure you are in condition to make this work?

— Yes, Capitain. I am. — She answered without hesitation.

Capitain crossed her arms and looked straight in her eyes. Capitain was tall and had to look down on most people, but never on Whumpee. She could easily be on the same level as them.

— You seem off. You might want to rest for a bit and eat well before...

Capitain interrupted herself when Whumpee lost balance and fell foward. Capitain rushed to catch them, shock rising inside her.

— Whumpee? Whumpee, what happened?

— I’m...It’s alright, I’m... — They said as they supported themselves on her arms to get themselves back up. They brushed their eyes. Now that she was that close, Capitain saw that she looked way more than off. She looked... exhausted.

Capitain swallowed up. Was she being affected that much? Maybe she had noticed Whumpee was skipping some nights to work, but... She didn’t think Whumpee would go that far. Shit. Capitain didn’t want to leave Whumpee here, she was a fundamental part of the operation, but if she went as she was...

They would be set up to fail.

Damn it.

— Whumpee, have you slept? Are you sick?

— I’m not sick — Whumpee defended herself.

— Have you slept?

Whumpee avoided answering, and as she turned her head away, Capitain took a decision.

This wasn’t their only chance, she reassured herself. If they went now, things would probably end up terrible. Capitain had been working on this field for almost a decade now, and she knew how to evaluate risks.

Even when she didn’t want to.

— The operation — she sighed, and walked up to a table and began scribbling a note in a letter — will be delayed.

Whumpee didn’t seem to have heard her at first, but then her expression changed, and she said:

— What? Ma’am, why? If it’s me, please know I’m alright! — They pointed to themselves — I can still play my role-

Capitain interrupted them with an abrupt hand motion.

— No. You can barely stand still. It’s not something I had taken into account... — she dreaded — But it’s not worth the risk. We can retreat and alter the plan and readjust things with our allies... — Oh that would be a pain. This operation had taken a month to get ready. If only she hadn’t relied on Whumpee that much...

They still protested a bit, but Capitain was firm and ordered them to fix their sleep schedule. Whumpee, with no choice, quit and obeyed.

Capitain sighed in frustration, and started calling her team and sending messages.

--

The sun had just started to set, and Whumpee already was in position.

She knew the plan by hand at this point, and she knew exactly which parts she could do alone, and which parts there would be no chance of doing later, not with great sacrifice.

She tsked internally. If Capitain didn’t want the plan to occur today just because she was feeling a little tired, fine, but they wouldn’t let it all go down the hill because of a mistake of her part.

It was her job after all.

So they wavered it off and massaged her temples, trying to take the pain of the bright world and loud everything around them.

She didn’t have the time for that right now.

[avvail-whumps]

‘guns for hire’ — no escape #33

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: intimate whumper, conditioned whumpee, stockholm syndrome, implied dub-con (not explicit)

“Roy,” Leo whispered softly under his breath. “Can I ask you something?”

It was dark in the living room, the only source of light coming from the bright television screen in front of them. He was comfortable like this, wrapped up in the blanket from his room, nestled between Roy’s legs with his back slumped against his chest. The man’s arms were comfortably hanging around him, lounging on the couch with a few empty beer cans and plates on the coffee table in front of them.

It had been quiet for the most part, and it was his words that drew the mercenary out of his languid concentration, his arms shifting and hands coming to tangle in his a second later. Time had subsequently passed, and Leo had found the bandages off his fingers. He was still wary of even using them for normal things, as simple as picking up a plate, but the more time that passed, the easier it became. He would often be forced to endure these silly grip exercises to work through his hands, but Leo wasn’t going to argue if it would help him get better.

He was even playing violin again. He went back to cooking, although Roy would join him more often than not to help. He was never much help, though, but Leo found he thoroughly looked forward to any seemingly normal interaction with him behind a stove.

It was nice not to feel the crack of a hand on his skin, or horrible tools on his body. There wasn’t a second of his life that seemed to live up these moments where he could wrap himself in Roy’s arm, and relish in the warm presence of another person. He would do anything to cling onto that. He would do anything not to lose these moments where nothing else seemed to matter.

Roy took his eyes off the screen, squeezing his hand softly. “Go on, lion.”

The secretary suddenly paused. In the flurry of the moment, he’d almost forgotten what he’d intended to ask. The deeper he could feel himself plunging, the more he found he wanted to know about Roy. Because even now, after everything they’d done, the mercenary was still a complete enigma. Leo had told himself that there wasn’t a need for him to go looking. That he didn’t need to pry and possibly ruin what they had. Because Leo didn’t want anything to change. He already had everything he wanted. 

He stared at the television screen, barely registering the action that was going on, softly biting at his bottom lip. His fingers gently eased against Roy’s own, relishing in the contact of his skin there. He’s grown so used to him wearing gloves since before the contract, that seeing him without was almost strange. 

He hesitated, unable to find the courage to say it. “Uh, what’s your favourite movie?” 

The mercenary let out a little chuckle. He could feel it vibrate pleasantly against his back, and he couldn’t help but melt into the comforting feeling. “Is that really what you wanted to ask me?” 

Leo’s brows furrowed, turning his head away when he felt Roy shift. He began playing gently with his fingers, trying to distract himself. There wasn’t any point in lying to him. Leo knew he couldn’t, and it wasn’t like he was eager to get into trouble anytime soon. 

A little sigh escaped his lips. “You said last time that…” He suppressed an embarrassed huff. “You didn’t want to tell me last time.” 

“Last time?” The mercenary hummed. The last time was a while ago, granted, when Roy had actually seemed to show his interest in Leo out of the blue, demanding he tell him stuff about himself. The shock of normality the conversation had brought him stuck to him like glue the entire time. But it wouldn’t surprise him if the mercenary didn’t even remember it. 

Leo looped his hand in his. “It doesn’t matter.” 

He felt the man’s free hand prop under his chin, gently tilting his head towards him. Leo tried to avoid his gaze, but Roy had a talent for trapping his eyes within his, and he had no choice but to meet them timidly. He had a sleezy smile on his face, thumb gently teasing the bottom of his jaw. He had choice but to ease the tension in his shoulders, his cheeks flushing. 

“You want me to tell you about myself, right?” He whispered, making him burn with embarrassment. He shifted further onto his side so he could lean into Roy, propping his head on his chest. 

“I was just curious,” he mumbled under his breath, shrugging his shoulders lazily. The mercenary drew the blanket further over him, and he felt his eyelids grow a little heavier. It must have been late already, since he was starting to feel weighed with fatigue, despite having spent most of the afternoon lounging lazily on the sofa. He could have fallen asleep like this, but he was far too inclined to know what he was going to respond with. 

“I’m flattered, lion,” he purred, leaning down to kiss his cheek. “Why the sudden curiosity?” 

Leo knew he was coaxing something out of him. The gentle hand against his back, the soft, lilting voice he knew he liked so much. He was never strong enough to fight it, however, plunging into his obvious little trap without much of a care. His eyes flickered up to meet his, wondering how long he could fall into them without getting bored. The answer was probably forever, at this rate. He’d almost forgotten that he’d been asked a question, and his mind flared in warning to answer.

“I just want to know more about you,” he whispered quietly under his breath. He could see the subtle thoughts in Roy’s eyes, the slight squint of intrigue at his words. The way he’d look at him like he had a dog on a leash. “I’m sorry.” 

The man shook his head. “You can be so temperamental sometimes, lion.” 

“You’re too secretive,” Leo countered hesitantly, and Roy’s eyes widened slightly in amusement. 

“Feeling cheeky, are we?” 

He ducked his head, curling his legs closer to himself. The mercenary laughed lowly, and Leo even found himself fighting a smile. He liked it when Roy laughed. He had a nice laugh. There was a lot about Roy that he found himself liking. 

“There isn’t really much to tell you, lion,” he shrugged, fingers carding through his hair. Leo hummed happily at the soothing nails against his scalp, listening despite his closed eyes. “Grew up with my uncle. Then I left.” 

A small frown of disappoinemtnet found its way onto his face, but the man noticed, and teasingly pinched his side.

“Sorry, did that not live up to your expectations?” He murmured, and Leo wriggled uselessly in his grasp, shaking his head with a smile. 

“No, no,” he huffed, prying his hand away with a sigh. “What was your uncle like?” 

A bitter expression passed over his face. “Not someone you’d wanna mess with. That’s for sure.” 

Leo tilted his head back in curiosity, blinking his eyelashes. “Is he the one who…?” 

“Trained me?” He smirked, kissing his nose. “Yes, lion. Then I left because I didn’t want to work for him for the rest of my life. Would have rather gone my own way.” 

The secretary fiddled with his fingers nervously. His voice was like a ghostly whisper, almost carried away in the air. “I’m glad.” 

Roy’s eyes shimmered with intrigue, lip curving up into a knowing smirk. 

“Why?” He murmured, playing with a strand of his hair by his ear. He relished in the way the skin there had gone a bright red. “Because I found you?” 

Leo shyly nodded his head. He didn’t think he trusted the terrible lump lodged in his throat not to make more of a fool out of him if he answer verbally. He didn’t think his heart had reached this level of deep anxiousness before, different to anything he’d ever experienced. Roy shifted beneath him, a chuckle escaping his lips. 

“You’re so cute, lion,” he purred, cupping his cheek with care. “Come here.” 

Leo did as he was told. His arms looped comfortably around Roy’s neck, turning so his legs were bracketing his waist, and meeting the man’s lips with a soft little sigh. He seemed to step back this time, leaving Leo to do what he wanted. In turn, the kiss was a lot slower, tentative and naive, even when his hands gently slid to his neck to steady himself. Roy was smirking slightly into the kiss, his hands gently easing under the fabric of his shirt and tracing the long scars from the whip there. 

When Leo pulled away, the man caught his eyes effortlessly in his own. There was something lingering there. Something a little darker, something full of possessive desire, and Leo felt it right down in his core. 

“You know I love you, right?” 

Roy’s words almost made his heart leap into his throat. He couldn’t stop the shocked expression from consuming his face, his eyes snapping open. The severe weight of those simple words pressed right against that soft spot in his heart, and that part of his mind that craved to hear it. His hands grasped his shoulders tightly, almost unable to get his words out from how desperately he was scrambling to respond. 

“I love you too,” he breathlessly whispered, the words like fire on his tongue. His eyes were frantically flickering across his face, as if he was debating whether or not this was real. Part of him was still so desperately trying to get through to him, to tell him he shouldn’t be doing this. Saying this. That he should remember how he got here in the first place. 

Roy hummed, his head tilting. “I know you do, baby.” 

Leo’s thoughts were almost instantly discarded when he leaned down to kiss him again, this time letting the man press him as close as he pleased, arms wrapped securely around his waist. They fell to his legs quickly enough, lifting him off the sofa effortlessly, still entangled with one another. Leo could feel this burning heat in his stomach, his skin setting alight under the smallest of touches, and he could see it in Roy’s eyes too. His stomach swooped in anticipation. 

“I did say it was best to wait until you were better, didn’t I?” The mercenary purred, and Leo’s heart jumped. 

He nodded his head jerkily. “Yeah.” 

He knew that there was no coming back from this. That the moment he gave up the last thing he had of himself, there would be nothing to bring him back. Still, Leo didn’t care. Roy kissed him even as he carried him up the stairs, even as he pushed him down onto the bed, even as he pulled his clothes off, and all those thoughts were consumed by lips and hands on his body, melting them into the putty. 

The mercenary was gentle with him. For the most part. He let him cling onto him as tightly as he wanted, legs wrapped around his waist and his mouth occupied by feverishly kissing him through choked moans. Leo knew there’d be lingering finger bruises on his hips in the morning, but in the heat of it all, he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

He was exhausted by the time the sunlight streamed in through Roy’s window. He was slightly annoyed that the man never seemed to pull the blind down, his head falling back on his bare chest with a soft groan. He attempted to shield his sensitive eyes from the assualting streams of light, but it wasn’t as successful as he would have hoped. A hand landed in his hair, and he squinted up at the mercenary’s face. 

“Do you want me to pull it down?” He murmured, and Leo quickly shook his head. 

“No,” he whispered quietly, laying his head back down on his chest. “I want to stay like this.” 

Roy’s lip quirked up into a subtle, dangerous little smirk, and his hand cradled the back of his neck, playing with the baby hairs there. Not because of the secretary’s behaviour, but simply because he knew he finally had exactly what he wanted.

“Whatever you want, lion,” he sighed, closing his eyes. “Whatever you want.”

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @whatwasmyprevioususername @crilex29 @firefly017 @dutifullykrispyland @wibbly-wobbly-whump @there-will-always-be-blood @anonintrovert @justawhumpjunkie @whumptastic-world @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @whumpterful-beeeeee @anonymous1235 @sonder35 @unforgiven235 @whumpasaurus101 @mj-or-say10 @professional-idiocy @seaweed-is-cool @theelvishcowgirl @atomicsandwichprince @sunshiline-writes @peasandpotatos @pirefyrelight @enigmawritesstuff

[fairyniceyeah]

🧭🐺🦊Day 13: "Wait!"

Sacrifice/Adrenaline/Cornered

@juneofdoom

Day 12: "I can't stand seeing you like this"

Summary: Jeongin nearly falls off the stage.

CW: minor injuries, guilt

Whumpee: Jeongin + Chan Caretaker: Stray Kids ensemble

“Be careful”, Minho said as they spread out on the stage. It was the third week of concerts in Europe and they were checking out a new stage - again. Jeongin knew that it was important to get used to the stage before they performed, the grip, the ability to slide, the size itself, tripping hazards and more stuff they needed to know for a smooth performance. 

Nonetheless, the maknae was tired of reworking their choreo to fit a new stage every second or third day. With all the travels he had even forgotten the name of the city and the country they were in. He’d have to ask Chan later. 

“The stage is much smaller than we are used to”, the dance leader added worriedly, looking around. 

So much was true. It had been some time since they had performed on a stage that small. It was definitely a sign of their success but it was also a reminder of the old days. 

Once the stage was inspected they got into positions for the first song. They had to rearrange a few minor things but it went well. It went suspiciously well. 

Jeongin, having a lot of excess energy from sitting around at the airport all day the day before, couldn’t help but enjoy the dancing. It felt good to move around. His hyungs weren’t all as enthusiastic as he was and multiple times he was reminded that he should not overuse his energy and save some for the show tonight. But he couldn’t help but use the energy to annoy them.

Seungmin rolled his eyes at him, the moment Jeongin poked him during Case 143 and distracted him. The older vocalist was on vocal rest so Jeongin took the opportunity to bother him without retribution. 

Felix was having issues with his back and so he did every movement very carefully - Jeongin tried not to get in his way. Hyunjin was focused on his dancing but also managed to look bored to death during it. He seemed scary that way, so Jeongin stayed far away. Minho was totally focused on dancing and … well, butt-hunting, but he also had a hawk eye on any issues that might arise from the stage size. Jeongin was always surprised by his ability to multitask but didn’t dare test if he also could stuff tissues into his mouth while dancing perfectly during the dance break in Miroh.

Han was about as energetic as Jeongin felt and a few times they snuck up on Chan, messing with the older rapper, acting innocent as soon as he turned around. Changbin - who had just gotten over a bad bout of the flu and was to rest before the show tonight - was monitoring from the side, conversing with a manager. 

Maybe Jeongin went too far when he stole Chan’s prop mic shortly before the rapper needed it - kind of like he had seen with Mingi-hyung and Hongjoong-hyung on their Better-stage - but the exasperated yelp and the “I.N.-aaaaah” was indeed funny. The next moment the maknae had his own “oh-shit”-moment. Chan - in a moment of playfulness, indulging his youngest member - decided to give chase, ignoring the protest from Minho when he broke position, and ran after Jeongin, yelling fondly but annoyed nonetheless.

They laughed, chasing each other around the set. Changbin and the manager were shaking their heads, as far as Jeongin could see but he also heard cheers for Chan and himself. He turned around to look who was on his side.

That was when Chan yelled: “Jeongin, wait!” The maknae laughed, thinking it was in good fun. He realized a second too late that his hyung’s face was twisted into worry.

Then he was in limbo. 

It was like slow motion - he felt himself falling but also not. A jolt went through his body, a rush of adrenaline maybe, but then he realized that somebody had grabbed onto him. Chan pulled him into his direction and, at the same time, turned his body for a better momentum. 

Suddenly everything sped up again and the first thing the Jeongin registered was the pain he felt when his body connected painfully with the stage. Hands were upon him and he was rolled onto his back, blinking up at his hyungs, dazed.

“Minho-hyung?”, he asked, confused. He didn’t quite understand what had happened.

“Are you alright, Jeongin-ah? Are you hurt?”, the dancer asked, a frown on his face. Jeongin took stock of his body. His side and his arm hurt, having fallen onto them but that was it. He shook his head.

“Only a bit bruised if even that”, he replied, a bit breathlessly. “Hyung, what happened?”

Minho’s frown deepened. “You don’t know? Did you hit your head?” Immediately hands were in his hair, searching for a bump on his scalp. Jeongin swiped at the hands - Seungmin - he realized, like an annoying fly.

“I didn’t hit my head, hyung”, he said hurriedly. “I just … wasn’t I just running away from Channie-hyung?”

“Yeah”, Hyunjin said, kneeling down next to them - after a moment of careful consideration - as well with a sigh. It was suspicious really, like he was trying to block Jeongin’s view. “Why don’t we go backstage and rest for a moment?”

“Hyung, I’m not hurt”, he said and as Minho glared at him, he added a soft, “okay, not that badly hurt. What are you hiding?”

That was the moment he heard the protesting voice of Chan. “Lixie, I am fine, relax.”

Shit. Was Chan…? Had he …?

With that Jeongin was able to puzzle together what had happened. The stage, much smaller than they were used to, had ended where he had run trusting it to be bigger as usual. Chan must have saved him from falling down. And where the stage was smaller than normal, it was also higher - a terrible combination really. Had Chan fallen? That must have been two meters at least.

“Channie-hyung?”, Jeongin called, uncaring of his hyungs around him tensing. He jumped to his feet - ignoring the slight pain he felt and rushed to the edge of the stage. Below him, Chan was propped up against the side of the stage with Changbin, Felix and Han hovering around him. 

The rapper had a hand pressed to his shoulder which he quickly took away the moment he noticed Jeongin peering down at him. Changbin was fussing over him, looking at the hand that wasn’t holding onto the injured shoulder, trying to move the fingers. Even from above Jeongin saw Chan wince and the way he went paler. His pinky, ring finger and middle finger were all swollen and blue.  

“I … I am so sorry”, Jeongin stuttered, falling back onto his butt as he leaned away from the edge. “I … if I hadn’t …” 

Tears rushed to his face and he, for once, did not make a move to wipe them away. Hyunjin pulled him close, sitting behind him and nuzzling his chin into the maknae’s hair. 

“It’s not your fault, I.N.-ah”, he said but it fell on deaf ears. 

Jeongin had never intended to hurt his older brother. He hadn’t thought that a simple prank could turn into this … his hyung falling down the stage and getting injured. All because of him.

“It is”, Jeongin potested, whimpering. He had never felt so guilty in his life - not even when he had accidentally spilled coffee on Chan’s laptop. The data on the laptop had been fine after all - unlike Chan was now. He didn’t want to hurt his leader. Again.

“Well, you shouldn’t have run on an unfamiliar stage without looking around. Your spatial unawareness surprises me everyday anew”, Minho said. He didn’t have a scolding tone but it still made the maknae feel smaller than he ever had.

Then his voice got gentler as he added: “But you didn’t mean for him to fall. You wanted to make practice fun and it was. Mistakes, accidents happen. And Chan chose to save you, you could have gotten really hurt this unprepared for a fall. He was prepared and he will be fine.”

“Still, I’m sorry”, Jeongin whispered.

“Why don’t we go to the waiting room so you can see for yourself that he will be fine?”, Seungmin suggested, breaking his vocal rest and earning a loud slap on the butt for his troubles from - who else? - Minho. He glared at the older and stuck out his tongue in defiance when Minho turned away.

“I saw that, Kim Seungmin”, Minho said. Jeongin giggled at the terrified expression on Hyunjin’s face - he seemed much more bothered than the culprit himself. 

Seungmin rolled his eyes and tucked on Jeongin’s hand - clearly not keen on talking and getting slapped again. Come with me, his eyes seemed to say.

Their fingers interlocked, his best friend led him to the waiting room where Changbin was still fussing over Chan while Felix and Han were … fighting over a cookie? Jeongin really didn’t want to know.

“Channie-hyung”, he whispered as he saw the older man. His hand was getting splinted by a medic and Changbin was pressing ice to his shoulder. Neither of these circumstances stopped the leader from spreading his good arm and calling: “Come here, I.N.-ah. Next time, please be more careful. For now - as punishment - you need to cuddle your old hyung.”

Normally not a fan of skinship at all, Jeongin found it wasn’t that much of a punishment really. 

Day 14: "What were you thinking?"      

Masterlist link: Fairy's Full Masterlist Fairy's June of Doom 2024

Notes: for the amazing @dudadragneel

[iwritewhump]

"Take me instead!" + careteaker turned whumpee

day nineteen of whumpember

561 words

warnings: cursing, kidnapping

this isn't quite whump but shhhhh

~

Whumpee lays down next to Caretaker, his legs dangling over the armrest. He puts his head in her lap and smiles up at her. She traces his hairline with her thumb and smiles softly, pulling a blanket over her legs. Slowly, Whumpee’s eyes blink closed and he snores softly. Caretaker leans her head back on the couch cushion and sighs contentedly. Her phone buzzes and she pulls it out from under her leg. 

She squints her eyes at the bright screen and turns the brightness down before checking the message. 

“You should lock your doors.” 

Her blood runs cold and she looks around the room, eyes darting from dark corner to dark corner. She shakes her head and blocks the number. 

She shakes Whumpee awake, brushing the hair out of his eyes, “Hey, let’s move to the bedroom, last time we slept out here my back was fucked up for a week.” 

He blinks awake and mutters softly. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re moving to the bedroom.” she props him up and pushes up from the couch, her arm linked with his. 

He stops and stares at her, “Is it happening again?” 

And of course Caretaker knows what he means. Is it Whumper again? Is he here again? Is Whumpee safe? But Caretaker tilts her head, “Nothing’s happening. My back hurts, I don’t wanna-” 

“Oh come on, Caretaker!” Whumper shouts, stepping out of the shadows. “Don’t lie to him!” 

Whumpee tenses next to Caretaker and pulls her in front of him. 

Caretaker pulls him behind her and takes a step backward, getting closer to the stairs. She looks over her shoulder at Whumpee and tips her head once towards the bedroom. He shakes his head, hand wrapped around her arm and whispers, “I won’t leave you with him.” 

She pushes him onto the stairs and shoves him half-way up the staircase before turning back to Whumper. His head is tilted and he smiles cruelly. 

“Oh, now that’s interesting.” He walks up in front of her and she stumbles on the bottom step and stares up at him. “What is your plan, Caretaker?” 

Caretaker pushes up from the stairs and stands tall. Whumper still towers over her, nearly a foot taller. Her lip quivers, “Take me instead.” 

Whumper scoffs. He takes a step back and looks Caretaker up and down slowly. “Didn’t Whumpee tell you what I did to him? Imagine what I could do to you.” 

A chill runs down her spine and she takes a step up the stairs. He still looms over her, but she nods. “I won’t let you hurt him again.” 

He chuckles curtly and grabs her arm, “Let’s go then. Before I change my mind.” 

His fingers dig into her arm and he drags her through the house to the kitchen. The sliding door is still open from when Caretaker opened it during dinner to get rid of the smoke and burnt smell from Whumpee’s attempt at lasagna. The screen door is broken, its mesh torn and ripped. 

He flips the lock on the screen and pushes it to the side before dragging Caretaker out of the house behind him. He tosses her in the back of his van and uses a pair of handcuffs to lock her to the door handle. “I’ll be right back,” he says with a cruel smile, “I’ve just gotta get Whumpee.”