#wolf whump

[kaciart]

Day Two - Does your insurance cover this?: “Eyes open, ambulance is almost here.”

-

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[teencopandthesourwolf]

WOLF BOY

when ao3 goes down, we write tumblr fic... now on ao3 HERE lol

i used the 15/11/24 @sterekdrabbles challenge for this. the prompt words were GREEN, REACH and SCATTER. i'm also tagging @sterekdrabblesgonelong as it's around 1K words and therefore definitely a drabble gone long lol.

it's a spark!stiles slash derek whump sort of affair, just so you know what you're reading xp

.

The dagger is almost within his reach—so very nearly grabbable.

Other than being eight years old in a hospital room with the smell of rotting flowers clinging to the back of his throat, Stiles doesn't think he's ever wanted anything more than this.

Again, Derek hacks out, “Just run, Stiles!”

Again, Stiles answers no—only this time, it's not with his voice but a yellow-green vine of pure light that extends from his fingertips as he pleads with each beat of his heart for the universe to help him, the tendrils stretching, stretching, then victoriously winding themselves around the handle of the blade. 

“Oh, shit,” he mutters, now with his actual voice, and then the vine of his will is pulling the knife flush into his grip. 

He looks up at the hunter, their face a billboard of surprise, before a shriek rips itself from her belly at the very same time Derek roars from where he's tethered and bound, the wolfsbane-laced chains melting further into his flesh as he tries in vain to once again break free.

Then the evil bastard is flinging herself at Stiles—and straight into the dagger aimed at her solar plexus that his light sends sailing across the cave, plunging it deep into her breast.

It might not be bullseye, but it does the trick.

As she drops to the dusty ground like a discarded ragdoll, the other two hunters' heads snap like whiplash to where Stiles is sprawled, a look of pure terror marring their faces.

The cowardly fuckers drop their weapons and scatter, leaving Stiles and Derek alone—other than the dead woman at their feet—in the large cave they'd dragged Derek into a few hours ago.

Derek's wrung out, and beaten down, but alive. 

At once, Stiles scrambles to his feet to get over to where the ʼwolf is chained up, almost falling back down again when his probably sprained ankle gives way beneath him. 

“Stop fucking hurting yourself,” Derek hisses, and for once in Stiles's insane life he wishes he could gnash his teeth and roar in response, and it have an effect that would be anything other than ridiculous. 

“Oh my god,” he protests instead. “I've just saved your offensively pretty ass with my new spark's apparently awesome Gio-Ju-ju, a-hole, so how ʼbout we be a little less sourwolf and a lot more gratefulwolf to ol’Stilesy boy here, hmm?” he sasses, finding the key to the padlock that's bolted to Derek's chains on the flat rock where his flashlight got dropped when confiscated by one of the hunters. 

Stiles feels petulant, and justified in that petulance as he discards the now unlocked padlock. Then he feels a little wrong-footed when Derek quietly mumbles, “Thank you,” because the guy sounds both in a considerable amount of pain and genuinely grateful to Stiles.

Stiles sighs and kneels down to start prizing the chains away from Derek's red-raw, still-smoking skin, the ʼwolf's forever-stoic face giving away nothing of the hurt he's obviously suffering at the cruel hands of the aconite still desperately trying to seep its way into his body.

“You don't have to do that for me, you know,” Stiles says carefully, hinting at Derek's display of endurance.

Derek's eyes flicker from mid-space to Stiles's face, and Stiles suddenly notices that their heads are actually dizzyingly close.

He swallows, and the sound of it echoes around the cave as if mocking him. 

The second he peels away the last link in the chain attached to Derek's skin, and before Derek can push him away, Stiles brings a hand to Derek's throat to feel for his pulse. 

When determined fingers find it, Derek's face does a thing that Stiles hasn't seen it do before; it's this combination of incredulous and vulnerable, and is so unprecedented, and so beautiful, that Stiles sort of wants to cry about it. 

“You can hear mine,” he superfluously reminds Derek, before saying what he really wants to. “It's not fair I don't get to know—that you're alive, I mean. Like, I know I can see it but… The tactile reassurance? That's, uh, you know, kind of nice, too.” 

Man, he spends way too much time with werewolves. 

Then, when he licks at his dry lips and Derek's pulse quickens under his fingertips, Stiles is so much more than simply placated.

Taking a steadying breath, he feels a million trillion miles away from anything even remotely resembling steady.

He studies Derek's face some more for confirmation of his suspicion, and finds something akin to bashful swimming amid the swirls of those gorgeous seafoam eyes.

Derek likes him back?

Stiles sinks his teeth into his bottom lip; Derek's pulse starts to race. 

Amazingly, it seems Stiles isn't alone in the want he feels deep in his gut, and as it grows and spreads to his extremities, his fingers and toes now tingling with it, he reckons he's maybe beaten-up and bleeding out and half-braindead enough to have the balls to actually do something about it. 

It must be biological, he thinks as he licks at his lips again, that his body somehow knows exactly what to do to hopefully get Derek to do exactly what Stiles wants him to—lick Stiles' lips for him, that is—without him making an actual fully-formed decision on the matter.

Although as soon as he's thinking that, the decision to kiss Derek is unequivocally made—even if it's going to get him shoved into the dirt for trying. 

He's about to lean in when one of Derek's already beginning-to-heal hands stops him by bracing his shoulder. 

“I can smell your pain, Stiles,” he says. “Let me help.”

Stiles tries not to smile as he lies through his teeth. “Hurts here, the most,” he murmurs, touching two fingers from the hand not at Derek's pulse to his bruised, bloody lips. He then curls the other hand further around the werewolf's neck, to hold on.

Derek starts to pant, and Stiles has to hold in a whine.

The werewolf sounds absolutely wrecked when he asks, “Do you have any idea what you're doing to me by wrapping your hand around my throat?”

Stiles's smile then brakes free and is wry as his wit as he answers, “I've been working hard to find out how to woo you for months now, big guy. What do you think?”

And when Derek lunges to crush Stiles's mouth with his own, teasing Stiles' lips apart with his hot, hot tongue and nipping at them with blunted canines, Stiles reckons he knows what it must feel like to howl. 

.

on ao3 HERE if you'd like to drop me a comment xp

[anigst]

Wolf's Rain - Ep 05 & 06

[whump-allthe-way]

whump stories where there’s more than one whumpee, there’s quiet a few, actually. and they all relate, they all understand each other, they can understand their issues like no one else. but something happens, and they get better. well, most of them. whumpee doesn’t, and they don’t know why. but they don’t wanna drag down their friends, not when they’re doing so well. they plod on, as if they’re okay too, and they pretend as if the lack of their previous support system of like-minded friends doesn’t hurt.

it hurts, because no one understands them now, the nights where they would curl up in their friends understanding arms are gone now, and they’re alone. they struggle in silence because it’s easier than ruining their friends triumph, they keep quiet, and they scream themselves awake every night in the dark of their empty room, and no one knows.

[thatsgonnaleaveamark]

this or that - whump tropes (53)

potentially dangerous flesh wound (and you might have to look out for rabies as well) or venom that a character might not even immediately notice?

[phoenix-art-official]

ah yes. my favorite comedic podcast protagonist. *beats him with a wrench and chains him to a pipe in an empty room for three weeks*

[nade2308]

@whumpgifathon | Day 22: A Knock to the Head

Headache | Knocked Out | Bloody face

"CSI: Miami", season 4, episode 8 "Nailed", Ryan Wolfe

@thethistlegirl

[flame-cat]

i know im on a wolf 359 kick, but i could use more whumpy podcasts!

so far ive listened to wtnv, tma, tmagp, the orbiting human circus, malevolent, the penumbra podcast, sherlock and co., and woe.begone. i tried camp here and there and didnt rlly like it, same for roadx, archive 81, and marsfall

[theminecraftbee]

hermit horror week day 1: season 8 or game mechanics

His teeth still taste like blood.

He's locked inside the belly of the Octagon. He doesn't know when he got there, but whoever wrestled him into it was smarter than Ren. They realized the full moon's light didn't reach the wiring. They realized it would give him time to down wolfsbane and silver nitrate. It also gave him time to throw it all up in the corner. If Doc were here, he'd be scolding Ren on the fact that silver nitrate is still a toxin and a disinfectant, and he should still be taking it in small doses, no matter how badly he wants to poison the wolf.

He curls up, shuddering, against the wires and pipes that power the shop. He feels thin and gaunt. He hopes he has not had much to eat. He doesn't have a phone or communicator on him. He doesn't know the day. It doesn't matter what the day is. The moon's visible during the daytime, too. It may have only been a night. It may have been weeks. It's probably at least been days.

He throws up again, because wolfsbane is poisonous too.

Most things that can keep a wolf down are poisonous. Ren doesn't have to take them often. He's normally... controlled. A tamed wolf on the full moon. He has a pack to run with. He doesn't need to poison himself to keep the wolf at bay. He doesn't need to take silver nitrate like it's a medicine and not a reagent.

But none of this is making his teeth stop tasting like blood. His shirt is covered in it, too. His legs. His face, he thinks--he can't see his reflection in here. He wouldn't know. But it would have to be. There's so much blood on him.

He doesn't have a scratch on him.

The only thing that stops him, then, from taking more silver nitrate is that if he respawns from the poison damage, he'll respawn out under the moon. He'll respawn back out there. And then--

He shudders. He folds himself into a tighter ball against the belly of the Octagon. In a shaking voice, he cries out for Doc again. Doc has to be nearby. Doc has to be nearby. Because if he isn't--

No one answers. Ren doesn't know who locked him in here. He wonders if it was a struggle.

He's covered in blood.

It smells horribly good. Ren feels dizzy. He's gaunt. He's so hungry. He'll hold that to his chest. He's hungry and sick, not simply sick. If he weren't hungry--if he weren't hungry--

But he's not as hungry as he should be, if it's been days, and he's covered in blood, and he resists the urge to howl, a long, mournful thing. He doesn't want to howl, or bark, or anything else right now.

Instead he cries, a human thing, and holds onto it tightly while he waits for the pain in his stomach and the shudders over his skin and the grey stains where he'd grabbed the bottle and the vomiting to end, so he can take another dose, and force the wolf further down. Down enough to be safe.

Down enough that he didn't maul his friends to death.

Down enough that he can know if he did.

Down enough that he won't try to leave again, as he knows he will, as the moon shines outside, and as soon as someone tries to open the door to rescue him, letting that light back in.

[arlathen]

i have to say that getting to see solas fight a dragon in his wolf form and then have the final confrontation with him limping and bleeding and looking so so wet and pathetic. like that was a present for us. that was the devs saying "hi solas stans here's a gift for you"

[aceofwhump]

Day 4: Cattle Prod

Agents of Shield 6x02 | Dark Matter 1x04 | Werewolf by Night | The Mentalist 3x08 | Forever 1x08 | Legends of Tomorrow 3x16 | Burn Notice 6x11 | Hawaii Five-0 2x10 | The Rookie 1x16 | Teen Wolf 1x05 | Titans 1x07

@whumptober @whumptober-archive

[candy8448]

Ooooooooooh

Im all for big brother twi to leg and love them so so much

But what if twi is antagonistic towards legend because of the wolf and rabbit? Any amount of it? Be it intentional or unintentional, legend is deathly afraid of twilight

(And not legend is scared of wolfie, but twi himself)

I wanna see a fic with this (is there any? If there are, link them please?)

[of-wounds-and-woes]

Wolf Pack S01E07/08

[anigst]

Wolf's Rain - Ep 22

[nade2308]

@whumpgifathon | Day 5: Water

Shipwrecked | Drowning | Waterboarding

"CSI: Miami", season 9, episode 10, "Match Made in Hell", Ryan Wolfe

Part 1 || Part 2

@thethistlegirl

[skyward-floored]

WAIT WHERE WAS TWILIGHT DURING ALL THIS? DOES— DOES HE COME HOME TO AN EMPTY HOUSE— PEGGY DOES HE COME HOME TO AN EMPTY HOUSE—

- hero-of-the-wolf

@hero-of-the-wolf @asocial-lobster here you go :)

(happens within hours of this fic)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Twilight heard footsteps.

He groggily opened his eyes, looking around the tiny bunk he slept in while he was on duty. The lights were off, but there was a thin crack of light coming from under the door, and Twilight’s night vision made up the difference. All he saw was the same cramped bed and desk though, and his suit hung over a chair.

The footsteps were outside in the hall he realized, getting closer, and he held back a groan. Great. He was probably about to be dragged on some late-night patrol even though he’d had the night shift last week.

Figures.

Twilight began blinking the sleep out of his eyes as the door slid open, and paused, his senses picking up on a whole lot more people outside than he was expecting. That was way more than a simple patrol would merit, why—

Electricity shot through Twilight’s veins and he cried out, falling out of his bunk and onto the floor.

It was a lower charge, but it still hurt, and as Twilight convulsed with the leftover shock, he felt hands grabbing at him, and something pulling his arms behind his back.

His brain was scrambled from the abrupt awakening and subsequent shock, but he still fought against the hold, panic beginning to hit him. Something cracked him across the shoulders when he tried to fight back, and he cried out as his wrists were snapped into handcuffs.

“Wh... what...” he gasped, and saw through bleary vision his agent step forward, a hint of an apology on his face.

“Link Twilight Forester, you’re under arrest,” he said as Twilight was dragged to his feet, and Twilight stared at him in disbelief.

Under arrest? What— I haven’t done anything, I haven’t even been doing research this shift, and Legend just went on break so it couldn't be his—

Dread washed over Twilight as he thought of his brother, pieces fitting together that he didn’t like one bit.

“Why?” he finally managed to get out, and his agent sighed.

“Treason, apparently, and a long list of other things. Order went out for your whole family. Sorry Link,” he added with a shrug, and it was so casual and uncaring that determination rushed through Twilight, banishing the pain.

He snapped his head back and hit one of the guards in the face, then kicked his legs and took out the two holding his arms. His agent shouted, but Twilight jumped over his arms so his wrists were in front of him, then punched the man in the face, knocking him to the floor before he could shock him again.

Twilight bolted out of his room as one of the remaining men radioed for assistance, and he saw a handful of other supers poke their heads out of their doors as he ran by, woken by the noise. Nobody offered him any help, though he saw some sympathetic looks.

That was all right. He wouldn’t expect any of them to risk their necks for him.

Twilight kept running, ignoring the remaining shake in his legs and the ache in his shoulders, thinking through where the closest exits were. He was sure they’d already blocked off the nearest one, but if he went a bit further away...

Twilight heard a shout behind him and gritted his teeth, pushing himself faster. They wouldn’t be expecting him to go further from the exits, so if he headed for the fancy offices and slipped out there, he’d have a chance.

A small one, but a chance.

Transforming would slow him down, so Twilight kept running as a Hylian, keeping an eye out for a spot to hide. The hallways were gradually getting nicer, fancier lights and bigger windows, and Twilight grew more and more on edge. Any doors he’d tried had been locked so far, and he hadn’t found any exits, or even just a place to hide.

It was a miracle he hadn’t run into anybody yet, but it was only a matter of time. It was early yet, but morning would be coming soon, and with it an influx of people.

None of whom would be inclined to help him.

Twilight turned around a corner and slammed into something, scrambling backwards and cursing himself for focusing his senses behind him and not in front.

He’d crashed right into another super, a bodyguard if the clothes were any indication. The teenager was as surprised as he was, but almost immediately switched to a defensive position in front of his charge, his cerulean eyes blazing. Twilight saw a blonde head peep out from behind his shoulder, looking at him in fear and interest.

Twilight locked eyes with the bodyguard, unsure if he should fight or run, but the decision was made for him when the footsteps of his pursuers thumped quickly in their direction.

The guard’s eyes flicked to Twilight's cuffed wrists, then back at the hallway, and then suddenly he’d grabbed Twilight and pushed him through a door so fast Twilight barely registered it happening.

He fell to the ground with a hiss at his sore body, and heard the door shut behind him, the guard nowhere to be seen. Talking was coming from outside though, and Twilight caught his breath a little, then carefully got to his feet and pressed an ear to the door.

“—super who’s under arrest,” a familiar voice puffed, and Twilight felt some satisfaction at the stuffed note to it. It sounded like he’d broken his agent’s nose. “Did either of you see him?”

“Oh goodness yes, we did!” a feminine voice gasped, sounding the definition of terrified, “he looked half-mad! Isn’t that right, Champion?”

There was a pause where Twilight assumed the super had nodded, and he abruptly realized he recognized the name.

Champion... wait, doesn’t he guard—

“He went towards the main level, you might be able to catch him!” the woman’s voice continued, and Twilight heard some hurried footsteps and the click of a communicator.

“Thank you for the assisdance, Miss Hyrule. You should ged to safety while we deal with this. We’ll try ad flush him out,” the stuffed voice reassured, and loud footsteps pounded past the door and down the hall.

Whoever Miss Hyrule was must have replied, but Twilight didn’t hear it. He was more focused on a different tell-tale click he’d heard, and he had just enough time to shove his sleeve in his mouth to muffle his cry when electricity shot through him again.

The charge was higher this time, stabbing, shooting pain wracking through him, and Twilight bit back his scream as much as he could. He had no idea if his sleeve was even still in his mouth anymore his world was so narrowed down to pain, and when it finally stopped he was gasping for breath, tears in his eyes.

He distantly heard the door open, and the part of him in survival mode let out a snarl. Even if it came out as more of a pained whine, he wanted them to know he wasn’t going down without a fight.

A shadow loomed over him, and Twilight weakly kicked at it, frustrated when it didn’t connect. A hand grabbed his arm, and he tried to lunge away, still shaking from the most recent shock.

“Wait! We’re trying to help you, hold still!”

Twilight blinked rapidly at the voice, not expecting it to be the same accented one he’d heard outside the door, and he tried to focus his vision. Two blond heads swam into view, one closer than the other, and then gentle hands were on his wrists, messing with something.

Twilight felt his cuffs suddenly fall free, and his vision finally focused enough for him to confirm the two figures in front of him as the same that he’d run into outside.

“H... huh?” he said blearily, and the girl smiled at him, even as her guard frowned.

“Are you quite all right? I know this is probably a shock— ah,” she winced, “—bad choice of words, I’m so sorry. Anyway. Please tell me that you’re not actually a dangerous criminal and we didn’t just save someone who’s going to murder us?”

“I’m... not,” Twilight rasped, rubbing his wrists a little. They’d only been cuffed for a bit, but his hands still hurt. Probably from his efforts in trying to muffle his scream. “Why..?”

“One second,” she interrupted, and took his hand, studying his band. “I need to make sure they won’t track us in here.”

“That is my cue to remind you that this is extremely dangerous, and your father would not approve,” Champion said quietly, and the girl tossed her hair, giving Twilight a smile.

“Don’t mind him, he always says that,” she said, pulling out some small tools from her pocket.

“Because it’s almost always true.”

“May I remind you that you’re the one who pulled him in here?” the girl said casually, and Champion went quiet, and resumed his watch at the door without saying anything.

The girl went back to messing with the band on Twilight’s wrist, and a few quiet seconds ticked by, plenty of time for Twilight to wonder if he’d been knocked out and this was actually a bizarre dream. He looked over at Champion, standing silently by the door of what Twilight now realized was an empty office. His gaze was fixed firmly on the door, but he must have felt Twilight’s gaze on him, because his eyes flicked in his direction.

“Thanks,” Twilight said quietly, and Champion gave him a little nod.

Twilight closed his eyes with a sigh, feeling wrung out and confused. He was worried about his family. He was in pain and barely knew what had happened. And... now he was more or less on the run, and a politician’s daughter and her bodyguard were helping him.

Or something.

He was pretty sure he was right about the girl’s identity.

“And... there. I disabled the locator,” the girl said suddenly, tucking her tools away again. “I couldn’t do anything about the shocks right now though, I’m sorry. We’ll just have to hope they don’t keep it up.”

“Unlikely,” Champion murmured.

Twilight looked at his wrist in surprise, and gave her a grateful look. “Thank you. I... why are you doing this?”

The girl looked over at Champion, and though his expression remained the same, Twilight thought his posture softened.

“You needed help,” he said quietly. “And we could help you.”

“Yes. And it’s high time I did something other than follow my father around and give speeches nobody listens to,” the girl said, and Twilight breathed out a dizzy laugh.

“Knew I recognized you. You’re Zelda Floriana Hyrule.”

She nodded. “Yes. But you can call me Flora.”

“Flora. Ha... sure. No problem,” Twilight said with another faint laugh. He’d been right. Could this morning possibly get any stranger? “People call me Twilight. You uh... make a habit of helping random wanted supers who crash into you?”

Flora looked at Champion, and he shrugged.

“I’m making this up as we go,” she admitted, and Twilight couldn’t help his laugh. "I'll admit I've never done anything quite this extreme before."

Twilight was about to ask more questions, but then he heard his band make a noise again. Dread swamped over him, and Twilight frantically scooted back from Flora just in time for the electricity to course through him again.

It wasn’t higher then last time, but it was just as bad, and Twilight’s back arched as his world shorted out into a flash of white, a scream he couldn’t stop escaping his lips. Something quickly covered his mouth, but Twilight barely registered it, lost in the current tearing through him.

Either the shock didn’t last as long or Twilight passed out, but soon enough the electricity faded, and he was left gasping on the floor again. His cheeks felt wet, and his whole body was shaking as he dragged in heaving gasps.

Voices were swirling over him, and Twilight tried to focus past the agony searing his skin to listen to them.

“—still trying to flush him out,” Champion said, pressing his fingers to Twilight’s chin. Twilight vaguely realized he was taking his pulse, but he barely felt the touch he was shaking so hard.

“I have a couple tools in my bag that I should be able to use to shut off the shocking mechanism,” Flora said, her voice much smaller than before. “He won’t be getting out of here unless I disable that. But it’s in my father’s office here, we’ll have have to get Twilight there without being seen.”

“Easy,” Champion murmured, and carefully lifted Twilight up into a sitting position. “Can you hold your weight?”

“Y-yeah...” Twilight managed to groan, and Champion slowly helped him stand, more easily than Twilight would have guessed. Champion shifted his arms around to better hold him, and Twilight managed to catch his arm, and give it a grateful squeeze. “Th-thank you, so... m-much,” he whispered, and Champion nodded awkwardly in return.

“Just passing it on,” he said softly, and they got going without further discussion.

Twilight was having trouble focusing on much as they hurried down the halls, his entire body aching, thoughts scattered and bleary. He found his focus drifting back to what his agent had said initially, and he closed his eyes, anxiety for the rest of his family hitting almost as hard as the electricity had.

Somehow he had to warn them. Get word to them, tell them to get out, just... something.

He knew he was in no position to do that though, and even with his scattered thoughts he was well aware that by the time he could, it would... probably be too late. He had to hope that they somehow knew, and were preparing. Legend... Mom...

Two other faces joined theirs, and Twilight swallowed. He couldn't help any of them now. He couldn't even help himself.

All he could do was let two teenagers he barely knew drag him silently through the hallways.

And pray that his family was safe.