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whumphours · 4 years

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Whumptober Day Four: Callum & Lucas - Comfort

Using an alt today! Kinda fluffy, felt like they deserved a little bit of a break.

It's the middle of the night, and Lucas is supposed to be upstairs.

Tagging @slaintetowhump @liliability

Warnings: Captivity, vaguely implied noncon, collars, implied starvation/malnutrition, lady whumper

Lucas… felt different. Callum didn't know how to explain it.

Maybe it was just years of being touched by only Michelle, but when Lucas held his hand, or put an arm around him, he didn't feel the want to move away. He liked Lucas' touch, rather than just putting up with it because he had to.

That wasn't supposed to be how it worked. He was supposed to love Michelle the way she said she loved him. But Lucas seemed to clear the fog in his brain that tried to convince him of that.

Lucas made him want to keep being Callum instead of Honey.

Callum stared at the ceiling, all the little cracks in the plaster steadily getting clearer the longer he looked. He often lay on the bed and counted them on the nights he was alone, just for something, anything to do that would take his mind off the numbing loneliness.

He jumped as the door opened, and scrambled upright - only to see Lucas, unsteady on his feet, leaning hard against the doorway.

"You…" Callum sighed. "You shouldn't be down here, should you?"

"I-I can't do it," Lucas whispered. "I can't stay there. I hate it, I hate being so close to her…"

Callum sighed again, then shifted over on the bed so that there was enough space for Lucas to lie. Lucas stumbled over, and curled up on the worn out mattress, digging his nails into his arms with how tightly he was wrapped into himself. Callum laid back down, and went to turn away, but Lucas grabbed his wrist.

"Wait," Lucas mumbled.

"What is it?"

"...can you take my collar off? It's hard to reach."

"Lucas, you know you're not supposed-"

"Just for now. Put it back on when I'm sleeping or something. I just… can't deal with it right now. Please."

Callum bit his lip, and with a quiet click, he unclipped Lucas' collar and hung it over the headboard. Lucas gently rubbed his neck, and breathed in deeply, trying to stay as calm as he could.

Cautiously, Callum put a hand on his shoulder, and Lucas didn't stop him pulling them closer together. They put their arms around each other, and it was only then that Callum realised how thin Lucas was. He could feel the other boy's spine and shoulder blades through stretched and scarred skin, and at his touch Lucas shivered with the cold. Callum pulled the thin duvet further off himself and tucked it around Lucas' shivering body.

"N-no, you need it too-"

"Shh," Callum whispered. "You're frozen."

Lucas buried his head in Callum's shirt, and Callum laid his chin on top of Lucas' head.

In the morning, Michelle would come downstairs, and she'd drag Lucas away, kicking and screaming, and he'd be punished for daring to leave her during the night.

But for now, they were holding each other, legs tangled together, forgetting, just for a little while, where they were.

#whump #whump writing #whumptober2020 #no.4 #comfort #altprompt #callum honey mclane #lucas sugar blunt #medium: writing #captivity #implied noncon tw #collars tw #starvation tw #lady whumper

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whumphours · 3 years

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Callum & Lucas - Nothing

Honey remembers a lot of things he wants to forget.

Tagging @liliability @whatwhumpcomments

Warnings: Captivity, creepy/intimate whumper, lady whumper, noncon kissing, referenced noncon, forced to self-harm (stepping on glass), collars, descriptions of restraints, blood, and choking, whumper taking pictures of whumpees

Honey knew he shouldn't be in here.

He knew that Michelle would get mad if she found him in her photo room. Or maybe she wouldn't. He wasn't really sure. He couldn't understand her moods anymore. It's not like she didn't already swing wildly from one mood to another, but it seemed more random recently, and it unsettled him that he couldn't predict them after five years of being with her every day.

Had it really been five years?

His fingers ran over one of the photos on the wall, the date engraved in gold in the wooden frame. March 14th. His first day.

The day she kidnapped you.

It burned into his brain like so many other things did. The ropes cutting into his wrists and ankles, the skin of his lips peeling off with the duct tape, eyes darting around the room as she pulled him into place, threatening him in that sickly sweet voice of hers, as if it was nothing more than a conversation, and his blood wasn't getting under her pristine nails.

He had laughed, bitterly, thinking about that later. It looked like she had gotten them manicured just the day before, and there she was, ruining them for the sake of a photo, chipping off the perfectly done nail polish as she yanked him by the hair.

He wasn't allowed to touch the photos. But he dared, this time, and his fingertip grazed across his younger self's face, eyes filled with terror and pain. Michelle had smiled at that, saying he looked so pretty, honey-coloured eyes big and fearful for her. Then her smile widened, and she kissed the top of his head.

Honey. Wouldn't that be such a cute name for you?

It didn't take long for him to stop trying to argue about it.

The photo beside that one had Michelle in it, pulling him in for a reluctant kiss by the collar she had gifted him for his first birthday with her. She loved that photo, so much that a smaller version of it lived in the charm attached to the collar he wore now. It rested against his throat, always cold, even colder than her touch that somehow froze and burned him at the same time, reminding him of who he was and who he belonged to.

I belong to you.

He'd said that, just before the next photo was taken. It looked almost normal, him kneeling on the soft pink carpet of her living room, a gentle smile on his face. The only thing out of the ordinary was his collar, so tight on his throat that he couldn't breathe, and once the photo had been taken he had desperately pleaded until his lips were tinged blue, and Michelle finally loosened it, pressing her hand into the bruises forming around his neck.

There were other photos, newer ones, of him older and more tired, with Lucas too, broken and bruised and forcing out an I love you as the camera clicked, but he couldn't stop staring at this one of him, twenty-one years old, still with hope in his eyes and colour in his cheeks, still, somehow, thinking that he could escape this hell.

He wanted to go back and tell himself to just give up right there. That it was easier. To be quiet, and perfect, and good, and it would hurt less. To let her pull him into her lap and stroke his hair, to kiss back when she pressed her lips against his, to act like he wanted it when she held him down on the bed and tugged at his jeans, telling him to beg.

He wanted to tell himself so many things.

She'll make you give away every last piece of yourself. Let her. Please don't make that hurt this time. Just let yourself be hers.

He remembered being a person, being Callum, before he was hers.

Callum had a mom that loved to paint and let him leave handprints on the canvas like he did when he was small, and a little brother who loved to read and excitedly tell him about the newest book in his favourite series, and they'd dance around the living room and sing to some bad 80s song that they all loved anyway. And Evan would tease Callum about the faint stubble growing on his chin, and he'd chase the little nightmare around the room until his legs hurt and they collapsed on the sofa laughing, and Mom would ruffle their hair and ask them if they wanted lunch. Callum was barely twenty and looking forward to the rest of his life.

Honey was twenty-five, and his cheeks were hollow, and his eyes were empty, and every day he pretended to love someone who only wanted to hurt him, who kept him locked up in this house that he knew even better than pain, every crack in the plaster and creak of the floorboards, where the knives were and what drawers the lighters were in, which walls he had painted two, three, four times because his blood had stained it.

He hated this house.

He wanted to go home.

Something snapped inside of him, and he didn't realise it until the photo was on the ground, frame splintered, glass shattered into pieces at his bare feet.

He slapped a hand to his mouth and stumbled back, heart racing. The smashing sound was loud, loud enough that there was no way Michelle hadn't heard, even asleep.

He froze up as the door opened, and he felt the ghost of a touch on the nape of his neck, before Michelle grabbed him tightly and held him close, her breath hot over his ear.

"What have you done, baby?" she asked, and Honey felt a chill up his spine. "You know you're not allowed in here."

"I-I'm sorry-"

"You go into the one room I ask you not to, and then you break something," she said, voice betraying no anger, if there was any. "One of my photos. You know how precious those are, don't you?"

"I know," Honey whispered, instinctively leaning in when she kissed his cheek. "I just wanted to look at them. I didn't mean to break it."

His throat tightened, lying to her. He had meant to break it, he was angry, he just wanted his life back, he wanted himself back. But he wasn't going to get that. And telling the truth would hurt so much worse.

"I believe you, Honey," she said, tracing circles in the gaps of his collarbone. "But you know the rules."

He knew the rules. He knew them better than he knew himself. They went unspoken, but he knew them, and they hovered over him like Michelle was following him everywhere he went, watching, waiting for him to break them.

"I know," Honey repeated.

"And what happens when you break a rule?" Michelle asked, gently taking his chin and turning his head to look at her. "You know what happens?"

"I-I get punished."

Michelle smiled sweetly, and kissed him, and Honey let himself sink into it, the taste of her apple flavoured chapstick lingering on his tongue.

She pulled away, still holding him. "Step on the glass, baby."

He didn't think about it. He kept staring into her eyes as he put his full weight on the broken shards of the frame. She kissed him as the pain shot through his body, and he kissed back, tears filling his eyes, giving himself to her again.

He gave everything, and still she took and took until he was nothing. Nothing but this husk in her arms, standing in a pool of his own blood, not even trying to pretend he was anywhere else but where he knew he belonged.

A muffled whimper escaped him, and Michelle pulled away once again, a hand resting on his face.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, voice breaking. "I'm sorry."

"I know, baby, I know," Michelle whispered, slowly dragging her thumb across his bottom lip. "I forgive you. You can stop now."

Honey stepped back, standing on the balls of his feet so the glass didn't get stuck in his skin. It hurt, it hurt so much, but he was barely reacting. His body was screaming in pain, but he just stood there, limp against Michelle, letting her lead him to the bathroom.

"I'm gonna get the glass out, and then we'll go back to bed, okay?" she smiled. "I love you, Honey."

"I love you too," Honey said softly, wondering when those words had started to blur into truth.

#whump #whump writing #callum honey mclane #michelle astor (is creepy)#creepy/intimate whumper #lady whumper #self harm tw #referenced noncon tw

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whumphours · 4 years

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Whumptober Day Three: Callum & Lucas - Forced To Their Knees

My Whumptober might be entirely about Callum & Lucas' story and I cannot be stopped.

Callum learns not to say no to games.

Tagging @slaintetowhump

Warnings: Torture games, manhandling, blood, creepy/intimate whumper, lady whumper

"You're not getting it, Honey," Michelle said. "You don't get to say no to a game."

Callum backed into the wall as she stepped forward. "Please, everything still hurts from last time…"

"Oh, but won't that make everything so much more fun?" She smiled softly and put a deceptively gentle hand in his hair. "Come on. You know you don't get to say no."

"Please, I… I can't-"

No sooner had the words fallen from his lips that the grip in his hair tightened. She dragged him across the room as he thrashed and yelled, pushing him to his knees onto the rug, littered with rocks that she'd collected for games like this.

Callum hit the floor with a strangled cry, feeling strands of his hair yanked from his head with the force of Michelle's grip. The sharp stones dug into his legs, and he bit back a scream so hard that blood started to pour from his mouth, where his teeth cut through his bottom lip.

"Oh, Honey, you shouldn't have done that," Michelle crooned. "That's gonna leave a scar."

He tried to reply, but the only thing that came out of his mouth was a pained moan.

"Look how easy it could have been," she said, a delightful chill running down her spine as she watched the blood drip down Callum's chin. "How about I add five minutes to make up for lost time, hm?"

"N-no!" Callum gasped. "P-please-"

Callum screamed as she used her foot to press his leg down harder onto the stones, feeling them pierce into his skin like he was kneeling on a bed of nails.

"Shush, Honey," she whispered, wiping away the tears that had started rolling down his cheeks. "You're gonna stay still and quiet, and you're gonna wait until the time's up, okay?"

He didn't know why he kept trying to fight when it always made things so much worse. When he could just do what she said, and stop trying so hard to be Callum, when trying to be Honey hurt so much less.

Honey nodded as a shooting pain ran up his legs and he choked back a sob.

"Good!" Michelle smiled. "You're doing so well already."

#whump #whump writing #whumptober 2020 #no.3 #forced to their knees #callum honey mclane #michelle astor (is creepy)#medium: writing #torture tw #manhandling tw #blood tw #creepy/intimate whumper #lady whumper

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whumphours · 4 years

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Whumptober Day One: Callum & Lucas - Hanging

I'm back on my bullshit and writing new OCs. Will I finish Whumptober? No idea. But for now you get whatever this is.

Callum Honey can't lose, and Sugar Lucas is thinking too much.

Tagging my favourite enabler @slaintetowhump

Warnings: Torture games, implied kidnapping, implied torture, lady whumper, creepy/intimate whumper, fade-to-black/referenced non-con

Honey was quiet, and perfect, and good.

His arms were burning, but he couldn't relax, he couldn't move, or the rope would pull around his neck and he'd choke. It's so tempting just to let it happen, but if he lost her stupid game it would hurt so much worse.

Michelle tapped her watch. "Two more minutes."

He gritted his teeth. Two more minutes, two more minutes and then he could stumble down the stairs and check that Lucas was okay, if he needed a bandage change or more painkillers or-

Honey sucked a pained breath through his teeth trying not to focus on the tick, tick, tick of the watch. How long had he been standing here, rope scratching angry bright red lines into his dark brown skin, the noose around his throat threatening to tighten at any second if he relaxed his arms? The balls of his feet were searing with pain. If he just went down for a moment…

He squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn't. The lashes across his back were almost healed from the last time he'd lost, and he wasn't going to let Lucas take care of him when Lucas was still whimpering every time he had to move.

Tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick tick-

"Oh, well done!" Michelle smiled. "You made it the whole twenty minutes."

Twenty minutes? It felt like so much longer.

She untied the rope and Honey collapsed onto his knees, wrapping his aching arms around himself. Michelle cupped his chin and he obediently looked up at her, with the wide brown eyes that she always said she loved looking into. If he was quiet, and perfect, and good, he could go back downstairs faster.

"You're so pretty when you're in pain," she said, and Honey flinched as her hand moved to pet his hair. "Wasn't this fun?"

Honey knew better than to tell the truth, and nodded quietly.

"How's Sugar?" Lucas. "I miss him."

"He's… okay. He's still hurting a lot."

"Aw," she said, sickly sweet voice devoid of concern. "Well, until he's all better, it'll just have to be you and I."

He felt her fingers start to trail down his chest and breathed in sharply. He wouldn't get to go downstairs, not yet, not until she was done with him.

---

Lucas curled up against the wall, trying to control his breathing. He whined quietly as a sharp stab of pain ran down his spine, and he knew the cuts had torn open again.

He glanced up as Callum was pushed into the room, and the door clicked shut. Callum looked exhausted. The bruises around his neck and wrists meant another one of Michelle's games, and the crumpled shirt and jeans meant fucking him until he could barely stand up.

Lucas felt like he was going to be sick. At least lying here, shaking from the pain, was better than that.

"Hey Lucas," Callum mumbled, dropping to his knees beside his friend. "Are you okay? Do you need more meds?"

Lucas nodded. "A-and I… I think I t-tore them open a-again."

Callum sighed, and headed into the bathroom adjacent to their small room, which contained only a double bed, a bookshelf with books they'd read a hundred times, a small table with chairs, and a sink with three glasses beside it. Lucas was so fucking sick of just lying here, staring at the patterned wallpaper until he went cross-eyed, or, god forbid, Michelle came downstairs.

Wipes and bandages in hand, Callum came back, and carefully lifted up Lucas' shirt. The welts on his back were definitely bleeding again. It seemed like they never stopped.

"Callum?" Lucas mumbled.

Callum didn't answer.

"Callum," he tried again, then sighed. "H-Honey?"

Callum - Lucas refused to think of him as Honey - blinked and sighed. "Yeah?"

"Do you think we'll ever get out of here?"

Callum paused, and glanced down. "Doesn't matter. There's… there's nothing except here."

"But… there is." Lucas knew it was futile to argue when Callum was only answering to Honey, but he couldn't help but try. "You had a life before this. We… we both did."

"...it doesn't matter. We belong here. Or… I do, at least."

Callum sounded so defeated, and it made Lucas' blood boil. Three years he'd been here, Callum had said, when Lucas was first taken nine months ago. Three years alone in this stupid dingy bedroom with that witch upstairs. Lucas didn't understand how he could bear it for so long.

Lucas whimpered quietly as the alcohol wipes stung.

"Sorry," Callum said. "I know it hurts. I… I wish I could help more."

"You're doing the best you can," Lucas replied, wincing as Callum started to wrap the bandages around his torso.

"No, I'm not!" Callum snapped, with such sudden ferocity that it made Lucas jump. "I shouldn't… I shouldn't have let her take you. You don't deserve this, you don't deserve any of this!"

Lucas bit his lip. "Neither do you."

Callum didn't answer, and just finished wrapping Lucas up, off-white bandages almost as pale as Lucas' skin. He heard a sniffling noise from behind, and turned to see Callum with tears pricking at his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry," Callum whispered. "I'm sorry about everything."

Lucas found himself held in a tight hug, and almost instinctively laid his head in the crook of Callum's neck. The two sat there, holding each other for what seemed like hours, utterly silent except for their breathing.

Callum was the first to pull away, but he kept a hand on Lucas' shoulder. It was a short moment, their faces so close they were almost touching, and Lucas almost leaned in before Callum's grip tightened, and then he finally let go.

"Do you need painkillers?"

Lucas winced again as he shifted and felt the wounds stretch. "...y-yeah."

#whump #whump writing #whumptober2020 #no.1 #hanging #callum honey mclane #lucas sugar blunt #michelle astor (is creepy)#medium: writing #kidnapping tw #torture tw #lady whumper #creepy/intimate whumper #referenced noncon tw

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whumphours · 4 years

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Whumptober Day Eight: Callum & Lucas - Isolation

The Day 5/6 and Day 7 pieces are coming, I swear. I'll post them in conjunction with another day's piece. And later today I'll post the Day 9 prompt.

Callum just wants this all to end. (Takes place pre-Lucas)

Tagging @slaintetowhump @liliability

Warnings: Attempted suicide (wrist cutting, he doesn't do much more than nick himself), suicidal ideation, blood, captivity, implied future kidnapping

Callum sat quietly in the small bath, pressing the sharp edge of the razor blade to his arm, daring himself to do it.

It was just a little more pain, probably nothing he couldn't handle. Just a little more, and he'd be free. He'd planned this so carefully. Counting the days so he could keep track of when Michelle was most likely to be gone, using the advantage of being able to freely roam the house to steal a razor, waiting for the perfect moment to do it.

So why couldn't he bring himself to go through with it?

He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, trying to build up the courage to just push it through his skin.

Do it.

The voice in the back of his head was getting louder.

Do it.

He felt the slightest sting against his wrist.

DO IT.

He forced it through before he changed his mind, watching the blood pool around the small wound in some kind of morbid fascination.

He wondered what she'd do with his body. Would she just dump it somewhere and let someone find him? He kind of hoped that was it. Because maybe then his family would get some kind of closure. They wouldn't have to deal with him coming back broken.

God, he missed them so fucking much.

He squeezed his eyes shut and dug the blade deeper into his arm. He could do this. It wouldn't hurt as much as living like he was really part of this stupid, made-up family Michelle fashioned them as while treating him like nothing more than a pet. It wouldn't hurt as much.

It wouldn't.

Right?

"Oh my god, Honey-"

He froze as Michelle ran into the room and pulled his hand away from his wrist. He quietly dropped the blade into the bathtub as she turned his wrist over in her hands.

"Thank god it's not bad," she sighed in relief, then brushed a stray strand of hair out of his face. "Hey, hey, are you okay? Talk to me, baby, what's wrong?"

Honey - he almost automatically shifted into the persona around her - trembled, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to make it better so that she wouldn't end up punishing him for trying to leave her.

But what came out of his mouth was: "You're… home early."

Michelle put an arm around him and hugged him tightly, and Honey stiffened. "Come on, you know you can talk to me, okay?"

"I…" Honey dug his nails into his palm. "I… felt lonely."

Fucking hell, that's what you come up with?

"Oh, Honey…" She started to stroke his hair and he almost melted into the touch on instinct. "I know I've been busy, but I didn't know it was making you feel like this. If I only had more time for you…"

Honey felt her perk up suddenly.

"Hey, what if I got you a friend, hm? Then you'd have someone to talk to while I'm out. Being in the house all day long on your own can't be good for you. I'm sorry I didn't think about it before, baby."

Callum bit the inside of his mouth to stop himself from saying anything. He'd fucked up thinking this would end, that he'd get out of this so easily. And now someone else would get thrown into this. Because of him.

"Honey? What do you think about getting a friend?"

He couldn't give any other answer. "...okay."

The voice in the back of Callum's head dared him to pick up the razor blade again.

#whump #whump writing #whumptober2020 #no.8 #isolation #callum honey mclane #michelle astor (is creepy)#medium: writing #suicide tw #suicidal ideation tw #blood tw

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