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runningwhump · 10 months

Note

I am literally begging you to write a part two of the team whump fic that you did, like the aftermath of what happened and their team caring for them🙏🏻

tags: @ladygwennn @deltaxxk @suspicious-whumping-egg

CW: captivity, torture, muzzled whumpee, whipping, so much angst and self blame, forced to watch, (brief and very innacurate, sorry) wound treatment, implied death (more like murder, but it's only mentioned) of the bad guys

Continued from here

Whumpee is crying.

They don’t feel like crying – they’re long past the point of weeping for their situation – but they must be, because something wet drips down their cheek and the bridge of their nose, forming a tiny puddle underneath their temple.

They shift on the ground, holding their breath when the cuts Whumper carved into their skin return movement with pain. Still, they move back a little, all of their back pressing against the wall, only enough to look at where their cheek had just been lying on. Whumpee stares at the liquid on the ground, and now they do feel like crying.

It isn't tears what had been dripping down their face. It’s blood.

Whumpee pulls their shackled hands to their cheekbones, and only then do they feel the sting of pain from where the muzzle has cut into their flesh.

How long has it been firmly buckled there? Has it been over a week already? Two weeks? Whumpee can’t tell. It’s only been taken off so they could eat a few times, and not long enough for them to even try to make their aching jaw work before their voice was stolen away again.

They trace the edge of the leather keeping their mouth locked shut, and aren’t at all surprised when they pull away to look at their fingers and find blood smeared on their fingertips.

Is it going to scar?

Whumpee nearly laughs at the thought.

As if scars are something they can afford to worry about when their team is locked somewhere in this nightmare and they are all helpless to protect each other.

But that’s not something they can afford to think about either. Because if they start imagining their team – their family – chained to a wall like they are, hurting as they are, Whumpee will crumble. The fragile protections they’ve built around their heart to try and survive Whumper will fall down, and the feeble control they still have over themself will shatter completely.

So Whumpee shakes their head and the thought away, and curls up on the ground, as small as they can make themself without reopening the fresh wounds that litter their body.

It was worth it. Every pain they’ve felt, even the ones that remain, it was all well deserved for letting their family get caught. If someone had to hurt, Whumpee is glad it was them. They truly hope it’s only been them. Even if they can’t help but fantasize about their team somehow freeing themselves and rescuing them, Whumpee knows, deep down, that those dreams are only that. Dreams.

They can still see their team’s faces when they were brought to Whumper’s dungeon, the fierceness behind their eyes. It matched their own, they think.

Closing their eyes, Whumpee swallows the lump that builds in their throat at the memory of Caretaker, Leader, and Healer screaming their name, offering themselves in Whumpee’s place.

They hope the team understands why they provoked their captor until they were taken away. They hope they can forgive Whumpee for it all – for being caught, but also for the horror of seeing their youngest being dragged away and hurt in front of them on that first day, when Whumpee hadn’t been placed in a cell far from their family’s eyes yet, when they couldn’t control their own muffled screams even though they knew that their team was watching. They wish they could’ve been stronger for them.

“Awake already?”

Whumpee flinches at Whumper’s voice, wide eyes shooting up to watch their captor stepping inside the cell.

“Oh, someone didn’t hear me opening the door, huh?” they laugh. “You’re getting sloppy, Whumpee.”

Whumpee sits up and snarls an answer, but behind the muzzle all either of them can hear is a muffled whine.

Whumper raises an eyebrow and touches their ear.

“What was that? Can you repeat it for me, dear? I don’t think I heard it.”

If they weren’t too busy tracking each of Whumper’s movements from their spot on the ground, Whumpee might’ve rolled their eyes.

“You know, you’re growing on me, Whumpee,” Whumper says in a low voice, almost as if confiding a secret. “All big scared eyes and shaky defiance. I think I understand why that team of yours kept you around – you are adorable like this. I might want to keep you too.”

This time, the sound that leaves Whumpee’s muted lips isn’t one of anger, but fear. It sounds like an animal’s whine, and Whumpee’s cheeks immediately heat up when they hear it.

“See?” Whumper smiles, crouching in front of them and using one finger to lift their chin. “Adorable.”

Whumpee doesn’t move, doesn’t look away, and though Whumper doesn't either, they still don't miss the way Whumpee's hands start to tremble, how fast their breathing becomes.

“So scared, and I haven’t even done anything yet,” Whumper’s smile widens as they relish in Whumpee’s fear. “But don’t worry, Whumpee. I’m not going to hurt you just yet. I have different plans for today.”

The words mean nothing. Whumper’s presence is a prelude to pain, even if it won’t come immediately. Whumpee swallows another whine.

“Aren’t you missing your beloved team? They've been worried about you.”

Something icy washes over Whumpee’s veins, filling them with both dread and longing. They hold their breath, not sure how to stop the hope from swelling in their chest.

“You’ve been behaving lately, I thought it was about time for a little reunion.”

They want to shake their head no. To hold still and behave so they’ll be taken to the people they love. To sob and scream and pray for mercy.

But before they can decide on what to do, two guards enter the cell, and faster than Whumpee can squirm away, unlock their chains from the wall and grab each of their arms.

Whumpee whimpers, the rough movement setting recent injuries on fire and making them shrink away without thinking. The guards only grip them tighter as they drag Whumpee out of the cell, stumbling on their own feet.

They walk down countless hallways, and though Whumpee tries to count their steps and the turns, they lose track of whatever number they had in their head when they see a familiar door.

They don’t have time to prepare.

One moment they’re being manhandled forward, the next the door is open and Caretaker’s wide eyes meet their own.

Caretaker’s lips part as they take in Whumpee’s ragged form, the way they lower their head a little so the dim lighting of the cell can cast their face in shadow. Shame burns deep as Whumpee considers how bad they must look, but they refuse to think about it. All they can focus on is their team.

They don’t look hurt. None of them.

Tired and worried, all three of them, but despite the chains still connecting their shackles to the wall, there’s no blood on their clothes, no bruises on their bodies.

Whumpee lets out a relieved sigh, blinking away the sting of tears from their eyes. Their team isn’t hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Whumpee tries to say, and though it sounds like nothing more than a muffled sob, Caretaker shakes their head and furrows their brows, eyes softening when they meet Whumpee’s.

“It’s okay,” they say in a hoarse voice, their eyes shining with unshed tears. “We’re okay, and you’re going to be alright too, little one. We missed you so much.”

It doesn’t matter, Whumpee wants to say. It doesn’t matter if I’m okay, all I want is for you three to be safe. I don’t care about anything else.

“Whumpee,” Healer breathes, and Whumpee winces at the pain in their voice. They open and close their mouth once, as if looking for the right words, before looking over Whumpee’s shoulder at Whumper and asking, “you- you kept that thing on them all this time?”

Lowering their head and hunching their shoulders a little, suddenly all Whumpee wants to do is study the stains on the ground between their feet.

“They don’t even need it anymore,” Whumper giggles with pride as they stop beside Whumpee. “Can barely eat when I take it off, let alone speak.”

With their cheeks burning bright, Whumpee closes their eyes at the statement.

“I’m going to kill you,” Caretaker promises, and Whumpee has to fight not to shed the tears gathering behind their eyelids. They had been so scared that they’d never get to hear that voice again.

“Look at them,” Whumper says, the guards letting go of Whumpee’s arms and stepping away.

It scares them, that when Whumper’s hand holds their cheeks, Whumpee’s first instinct is to hold still. They can’t remember when they started complying instead of fighting, but with their team’s eyes following their every breath, Whumpee curls their hands into fists and jerks their head to the side, away from Whumper’s soft touch.

“Ah ah ah, you know better than to pull away, Whumpee,” their captor grips Whumpee’s jaw so hard they couldn’t move if they wanted to.

They still then, breath hitching at Whumper’s tone.

“Don’t try to hide,” Whumper murmurs, voice low and soft near Whumpee’s ear. “You look so much prettier like this. Let your team see that little flush of yours. It’s adorable, dear,” they smile, turning Whumpee’s face to their team’s horrified expressions, leaning their chin up for the light to expose the blood pooling at the edges of the muzzle, where skin has rubbed raw. The dark circles beneath Whumpee’s eyes. The helplessness they can feel lurking there.

“Take your filthy hands off them,” Caretaker growls, chains clinking when they try to take a step forward only to be held back by the metal around both their wrists.

“Oh yes,” Whumper says, letting go of Whumpee’s chin and nodding once at someone behind them. “I almost forgot why we’re here today.”

Whumpee lets out a muffled question noise, muzzle forgotten for an instant. They flush brighter as soon as they hear it.

Whumper grins, letting the sound echo throughout the cell – letting the team hear it, how animalistic it sounds. How vulnerable.

Rough hands push Whumpee to the middle of the cell, and a guard grabs their shackles and connects them to a chain hanging from a hook on the ceiling before Whumpee can even understand what’s going on. Their gaze skips from Caretaker to Leader to Healer as their hands are lifted above their head and then farther still.

“Let them go!” Caretaker snarls, but no matter how much they try to get to Whumpee, their own chains keep them firmly in place, and before they know it Whumpee’s arms are pulled taut above their head, only the balls of their feet touching the ground.

Whumper sighs.

“I thought you were the only one who needed a little lesson on respect, Whumpee, but apparently I was wrong,” they say, hands casually in their pockets as they speak, casual and careless in a way that might’ve made Whumpee angry if they weren’t shaking with fear. “Dear Caretaker here doesn’t seem to understand who’s in control.”

Whumpee turns wide eyes to Caretaker, only to find them already looking back. There’s growing horror on their face.

“They’ve attacked one of my men,” Whumper continues. “And for that, they must pay.”

“If they didn’t want to be attacked then they shouldn’t have said shit about Whumpee,” Caretaker says through gritted teeth.

“Well, if you didn’t want to see your Whumpee bleed, then you should’ve controlled yourself,” Whumper raises their eyebrows. “I’d hurt you for it, Caretaker, but I’ve come to believe that you and little Whumpee here are more alike than you know, and this won’t hurt as much if you’re the one in pain.”

“Don’t you dare–“

“Do you want a muzzle of your own, Caretaker?” Whumper smiles sweetly.

Whumpee shakes their head no, staring at Caretaker and silently begging them to see the words written in Whumpee's eyes.

It’s okay. Let me do this for you.

“Whumper, stop this nonsense,” Healer begs. “Just tell us what you want and let us go.”

“Whip,” is all Whumper says, ignoring Healer completely as they extend their open palm to one of the guards.

Whumpee’s heart thunders in their chest when they see Whumper’s fingers close around the strip of cord that will soon be stained with their blood.

They have been tortured many times since being taken away. Beaten, cut, drowned, burned. But not whipped. Whumpee can’t help the full-body shiver that runs through them as they watch Whumper come closer, whip dangling from their hand.

“Do it to me, Whumper! Do whatever you want to me, just don’t touch them,” Caretaker shouts, their voice growing more desperate with each word.

But Whumper gives no sign of hearing them.

“Pity I have to do it to your back, it’d be lovely for your team to see from up close the pretty faces you make when I hurt you,” Whumper says.

“Please,” Leader tries, “don’t do this. We can come to an understanding. There must be something you want of us if you’ve kept us here this long.”

Whumper doesn’t even blink. They simply stop in front of Whumpee and smirk.

It’s been a while since Whumpee’s done anything but comply. It was easier to obey when they were alone with Whumper, easier to follow instructions than hurt when they couldn’t hear and see their family’s horror.

They know it’ll be worse if they try to fight. That much they’ve learned.

But it’ll be bad for them anyway, and if they can make their team at least think they haven’t been broken yet, then it will be worth it.

So Whumpee growls through the muzzle and jerks their knee up into Whumper’s stomach.

Whumper doubles over, a huff of air leaving their mouth as they moan in pain.

Whumpee lifts their chin and looks down at them, hoping their family can’t see how much their hands are shaking in the shackles above.

“You’ll pay for that,” Whumper hisses, straightening up and roughly turning Whumpee around so their back is all their team can see.

Caretaker shouts threats. Leader tries to reason in a high-pitched voice. Healer begs for mercy. And Whumpee, closing their eyes tightly, tries to prepare.

The sound arrives before the pain does. The whip whistles through the air, and Whumpee jumps at the sound a moment before a line of fire is drawn across their back.

The second strike comes too soon, crossing the last and making Whumpee gasp.

The third and fourth come in quick succession, no time to even breathe before more pain spreads through their body.

By the fifth, they can’t make out who’s screaming behind them anymore. Maybe all of them are. All Whumpee can do is whimper through the muzzle and feel hot tears dripping down their cheeks and pooling on the edge of the muzzle, some filtering in and making the tiny cuts beneath the leather sting.

The whip hits them, again and again and again, bright hot pain that only ever grows. Searing lines crisscrossing each other until Whumpee loses themself entirely.

There are so many voices screaming in the room that they only recognize their own when blood runs over aching welts and soaks into their pants, and Whumpee's voice fails as they cry out, their throat as raw as their back.

The pain keeps coming, one hit after the other until Whumpee is sure their back is nothing more than a mess of torn flesh. They drown in the agony, one hit blurring with the other, not enough time to even breathe before the next one comes. They shut their eyes and cry as all thoughts but one are pushed out of their head.

Please make it stop make it stop make it stop

Eventually, it does.

It takes them some time to notice it, in the daze of pain they’ve fallen into. But they do, and it takes Whumpee even more time to try to force their eyes open when they realize something has changed.

The sound. No one is yelling their name anymore. All they can hear besides their own pounding heart and breathless sobs, are distant grunts and thumps.

It sounds… like a fight. Or the end of one.

Whumpee closes their eyes again, sighing when they feel unconsciousness lurking closer. Sweet, painless unconsciousness.

Footsteps sound somewhere close. They wait for the sound of their chains, for Whumper’s voice to fill their ear.

But instead of being lowered to the floor and dragged back to their cell, suddenly there are hands cupping Whumpee’s face, lifting it, reaching for the back of their head where the strips are buckled, easing the bit out of their mouth and the muzzle from their face.

“Whumpee,” someone breathes. “It’s over, it’s over Whumpee, it’s over.”

Whumpee breathes out a sob, and the sound is almost wrong without the muzzle there to muffle it. Their mouth hangs open even with nothing to keep it that way, jaw aching too much to move.

They blink through their tears, trying to clear the blur the world’s become.

“C-Ca… C–”

“I’m here,” Caretaker whispers, soft hands still holding Whumpee’s head up. Their eyes search Caretaker’s, trying and failing to grasp their surroundings.

“H… H-how?”

“Don’t worry about that. All that matters is that we’re getting you out of here, alright?”

But Whumpee’s eyes still slide down, taking in the raw skin around both of Caretaker’s wrists, the blood on their hands.

Whumpee turns their head around, a cracked moan leaving their lips when the simple movement sends new flashes of pain down their back. They turn only far enough to see the bloodied shackles left on the floor where Caretaker stood before, their ends no longer attached to the wall. They only look at the body lying motionless on the floor beside them for long enough to know it is – was – one of the guards.

“I couldn’t keep watching Whumper hurting you,” Caretaker says quietly when Whumpee looks back at them. “Leader and Healer are taking care of them.”

“Y-y-you’re… hurt,” Whumpee mumbles, watching Caretaker’s blood-soaked clothes.

“I’m alright, Whumpee. It’s you I’m worried about.” A gentle finger raises Whumpee’s chin until their eyes are locked with Caretaker’s again. “I’ll let you down now, okay?”

Something broken leaves Whumpee’s lips – something scared. Being let down means moving. And moving, they’ve learned, means pain.

“I have to, little one. We need to get out of here.”

Whumpee simply closes their eyes, nodding slowly, not quite letting themself believe this isn’t an illusion created by their desperate mind.

The chains move, the shackles are lowered, and Whumpee hisses.

They hit the floor with a broken sob, but there’s not enough strength in their body to even kneel. Whumpee slumps forward into strong arms already waiting for them, head burying into Caretaker’s chest.

It hurts. Their back, their jaw, old bruises, the little cuts on their face, it all hurts so much and they can’t remember a time when it didn’t.

But the pain isn’t as heavy now. Not when it means that this isn’t a dream. It’s not a fantasy. New tears wet their cheeks, quiet whimpers falling out of Whumpee's lips as they breathe in Caretaker’s scent.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay,” Caretaker whispers as they unlock Whumpee’s shackles, voice wavering in a way they’ve never heard before. “You’ll be okay.”

Whumpee shakes their head. They can barely breathe through the pure relief that floods them as they hear Caretaker’s heartbeat against their ear.

Safe.

They’re safe.

Metal clatters to the floor, their wrists suddenly lighter than they’ve been in days. Whumpee cries harder. They aren’t sure if it’s the relief or the pain, but they can’t seem to stop now that they’ve started.

“How are they?” Someone says from somewhere distant. It might be Leader’s voice, Whumpee thinks.

“In pain,” Caretaker says in a shaky voice Whumpee barely recognizes.

“I’m, I, I- Car- you…” Whumpee whimpers.

Caretaker’s arms tighten around them.

“What, love?”

They work their jaw, wincing at each hoarse word they try to form. Their voice is muffled and slurred against Caretaker’s chest, but they still force it out.

“Y- you sh-should... leave, j-j-just leave me be-behind. It’s… It all… M-my f-… fault. I-“

“Whumpee,” Caretaker interrupts, holding them tighter against their chest, careful not to touch the bleeding welts. “Stop right there. We’d never leave you. Never. And none of this is your fault, love.”

There’s a beat of silence then. A hand cards through their hair, the touch as grounding and soft as any words Caretaker could’ve said. Whumpee nuzzles in even closer, Caretaker’s shirt growing wet as their tears come even faster.

The quiet is only broken by footsteps coming inside the cell.

“I found bandages. And alcohol.” Healer’s voice.

“No sedatives? Pain meds?” Caretaker asks quietly a moment later.

There isn’t an answer, and Whumpee knows what that means. No.

“We have to bandage you before we leave,” Caretaker murmurs against Whumpee’s hair. “Your wounds, they are… too deep not to.”

Whumpee trembles in their embrace, their breaths suddenly too fast, too shallow. They know what that means. It means they’ll hurt, and just like all the other times, there’s nothing they can do to stop it.

Someone says something, soothing words in a soothing tone, but Whumpee is already far past rationality. All they understand is fear and pain, both of which are already boiling underneath their skin, trying to prepare them for more.

Something wet touches their back, and a broken scream tears out of them as Whumpee tries to arch away from the burn. But arms are holding them still for the pain no matter how much Whumpee struggles to escape it. They think they can hear sobs that aren’t their own somewhere close.

It’s like being whipped all over again. Like having each one of the bloodied wounds on their back made new, and no matter how much they cry or how high they scream, it doesn’t stop.

A moment later, when darkness gathers in the corners of their eyes, Whumpee gladly lets it take them away.

Warmth. That’s the first thing Whumpee notices.

The feeling is almost foreign, the calming warmth of a fuzzy blanket draped over them.

Whumpee whimpers softly, confused, tired eyelids taking their time to blink open.

Caretaker’s face is the first thing they see when they finally open their eyes.

“Hi there,” Caretaker whispers.

They blink slowly, feeling the warmth seep into their heart as they stare at Caretaker’s tired eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

Whumpee frowns a little. They don’t want to think about how they’re feeling. They just want to bask in Caretaker’s presence.

“Thirsty,” Whumpee croaks a few moments later.

“Here,” Caretaker says, and a moment later a straw touches Whumpee’s chapped lips.

They shiver, feeling another straw between their lips, when there was too little time to force their sore jaw to work for them to swallow as much water as they could before the muzzle was put back on.

Whumpee closes their eyes and sips a little water, suddenly not as thirsty. They pull away and force their eyes to open.

“Are we home?” Whumpee asks slowly, slowly molding words like clay over their tongue, feeling their taste before listening to them. It’s almost weird to hear their own voice, how raspy it sounds, how hesitant. They don’t sound the same as they did before.

Sighing, Whumpee looks down at themself, taking in the soft bed they’re on, the clean t-shirt that covers their battered body. They’re lying on their side, and for a moment that simple fact brings tears to their eyes.

Whatever Caretaker’s response is, they already know the answer. Wherever they are, as long as their team is here, they’re home.

“We’ve stopped at a safe house for the night,” Caretaker tells them, eyes never leaving Whumpee’s face as they speak. “Healer thought it’d be best to let you rest for a bit before moving again.”

“Where…”

“They went out to get us food,” they say before Whumpee can even complete the question. “Should be back any moment now.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“A day.”

Whumpee nods, shifting slightly on the bed and grimacing when pain flares in their back.

“Whumper?”

Caretaker’s eyes grow dark at the question, shoulders stiff in icy fury at the mere mention of them.

But before an answer leaves their pursed lips, a door opens and closes somewhere nearby, and in seconds they turn their head to watch Leader and Healer walking inside the room.

“You’re awake,” Healer sighs, a smile tugging at their lips as they rush to kneel beside Caretaker in front of Whumpee, already reaching for their forehead to feel their temperature. “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy,” they answer honestly.

“Probably the medicine I gave you.”

“We were so worried, kid,” Leader says, stopping right behind Healer. They don’t smile, but their eyes hold a relief so deep that a smile isn’t needed to assure Whumpee of how much they’ve been missed.

“I’m sorry,” Whumpee whimpers, trying to hold back the tears that flood their eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

A warm hand grabs theirs, and Whumpee turns to see Caretaker’s eyebrows pulled into a frown.

“There’s nothing for you to be sorry for, love.”

“But there is,” they insist. Their lips tremble and their voice cracks, but Whumpee doesn’t stop. “I, I got you all caught. If it weren’t for me, we, we’d never…”

“Whumpee,” Leader says before they can go on. “None of us blame you for what happened. Because none of what happened was your fault. Do you understand?”

A sob slips out, and a whimper quickly follows when fresh wounds graze its bandages.

“I’m so sorry,” Whumpee whispers, hiding their face in the pillow beneath their head. “S-so sorry.”

“Oh, Whumpee,” Healer sighs, forehead coming to rest right beside Whumpee’s, almost touching them. Their voice is soft and sweet and Whumpee starts crying at the sound of it. “You were so brave back there. You shouldn’t have had to be, but you were so, so brave.”

A moment later, a pair of hands squeeze their own.

“This wasn’t your fault, little one,” Caretaker says gently behind Healer. “None of it was.”

“You’re safe now,” Leader promises. The mattress dips when Leader sits on the bed a moment later, their hand coming to rest on Whumpee’s arm. “We won’t let anyone hurt you again, Whumpee, ever.”

Whumpee cries harder, curling up in the heat of their team surrounding them.

They don’t know if they believe any of it. They can still feel the muzzle sitting tightly on their face, can still see their family’s faces screaming for them in despair every time they close their eyes.

If it weren’t for them, none of it would’ve happened.

But they aren’t in a cold cell anymore, and their family is still murmuring soft reassurances around them, so when Whumpee takes a deep breath and props themself up on their elbow and then sits with Healer’s help, it isn’t for themself that they wipe the tears away and smile.

It’s for the team that was so scared to lose them, for the family they might never deserve but know will always be there.

“I missed you a lot,” they say with a sniff. “But you three could really use a shower.”

The team laughs, and Whumpee does too.

None of them needs to know how hard it is for Whumpee to do it. As long as their family is alright, Whumpee can keep on pretending that they are too.

#both this and what it was continued from are fucking phenomenal #good job op

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