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befuddled-calico-whump · 11 months

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4 and 15 for CERUS

psychological torture + torture room

from this game ///// Penumbra Masterlist

His cart was heavy, almost too heavy for one man to maneuver, but Cerus supposed he should count himself lucky the overseer had given him something with wheels. Of course, he knew it wasn't an act of kindness. He was here to work, and dragging sled after sled full of coal up out of the mines would be excruciatingly slow, even for those who would only watch him struggle under it.

The only thing that kept him placing one foot in front of the other was the fear of slipping up, of having the cart roll backwards and crush him, and not kill him but leave him broken, in the hands of uncaring men until the Healer came round on seventh day.

Cerus was nearing the opening of the mine, the fading daylight and fresh air. The cart wasn't ten yards from the entrance when it suddenly stopped. Frowning, he gave it a shove, but it wouldn't budge. Something must be caught in the wheels, but he didn't dare step out from behind the heavy thing, for fear that it would roll all the way back into the heart of the mountain, giving him no choice but to waste precious strength to retrieve it.

So instead, he knelt, holding the cart in place by leaning a shoulder into it, and squinted into the darkness beneath. Suddenly, the thing jolted backwards, nearly crushing his hand, and Cerus frantically threw his weight against it. Laughter came from somewhere in the darkness, and an oily yellow light began to pool on the walls, soon followed by the silhouette of a man, his face ghoulish in the glow of his lantern.

In the weeks since his arrival, Cerus had made an effort to memorize the names and the faces of the miners he worked alongside. Not out of any misplaced sense of camaraderie, but because he'd quickly learned that some had more reason to hate him than others. And some, he'd had the displeasure of learning, were less hesitant to act on that hatred. Gauguin, a redhead from the plains. Dark eyed Drez. And, towering over him now, standing in the way of his cart and his much-needed rest, Nerros, a craggy-faced blond man with a smile that reminded Cerus of the twisted snarl of a wolf.

He watched in silence as Nerros knelt down, removing something that looked suspiciously like a pickaxe from the tracks. The man leaned against the cart, pushing Cerus back another few inches.

"Hard at work, little shadow?"

Answering pointless questions had never helped him before, and Cerus wasn't about to push his luck. He bowed his head, slowly stood while keeping his weight against the cart, and hoped the other man would vanish.

But of course, Nerros being who he was, he knew the other man wouldn't be deterred by something as simple as silence. When Cerus tried to push against his weight, he only leaned more into it, forcing him to splay his legs to keep himself balanced. A spike of pain shot up his ankle at the shift, and he gripped the edge of the cart so tightly he thought it might break skin to keep a yelp at bay. His hand spasmed, causing him to nearly lose his grip altogether, but he managed to hold on.

"Was talkin' to you, Shadow King. Impolite to ignore your superiors, you know."

Were his magic still intact, the man wouldn't dare speak to him that way. Were he still king, he could send a hoard of undead to tear him to pieces. But here, in the damp of the mine and endless toil of the camp, Cerus had no power.

Not meeting Nerros's eyes, he gave a curt nod. "Nearly done," he said softly.

The other man gave the cart a light shove, pushing it another inch back.

"Nearly done, eh? What makes you think that?"

Cerus kept his eyes downcast. He wanted nothing more than to reach his raggedy excuse for a bed and collapse there, sinking into the reprieve sleep brought until dawn, when he'd be woken with a boot or a shout. Such a small desire, held out of reach by this lowborn vulture.

"It's my tenth load," Cerus said, trying to keep his voice neutral. Too fearful or demure and Nerros would latch on like a parasite; too angry, and the other man would seize onto the opportunity to punish him for defiance. It seemed there was very little Cerus could do that would allow him to avoid misery. "The daily requirement is ten," he continued, but as Nerros leaned forward, he knew it wasn't enough.

"I count nine."

Cerus saw what was going to happen before the other man moved, but could do nothing to stop it as Nerros suddenly gave the cart a hard shove, too much weight behind the motion for Cerus's frantic countering push to do anything. It was all he could do to scramble out of the way and avoid being crushed under the wheels.

As hours of work went careening back down the sloped trail, Cerus didn't bother to quell the rising feeling of despair.

"How unlucky," Nerros said, heavy boots trudging towards Cerus's sprawled form, not stopping until the toe of one was pressed against his ribcage. Whether it was a promise of pain or a mere threat, he was uncertain.

"You'd better get back to work," the other man continued. "Ten's the requirement, ain't it? Or should I beat you for lying down on the job?"

Wordlessly, Cerus began to struggle to his feet. Not fast enough for Nerros, and the man made his impatience known with a kick in the abdomen, prompting a cry from Cerus and a laugh from his tormentor.

"Better hurry, little shadow." His teeth glinted in the dim light as a grin crossed his face. "Be dark soon."

Then, mercifully, Nerros at last turned away.

§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§•§

@whumpwillow @rabbitdrabbles @kixngiggles @honeycollectswhump @chiswhumpcorner @whatwhumpcomments , @dont-look-me-in-the-eye , @turn-the-tables-on-them , @pigeonwhumps , @itsmyworld23 , @andromeda-liske , @starlit-hopes-and-dreams , @haro-whumps , @kira-the-whump-enthusiast ,

#kind of took liberties with the prompts #psychological torture in the vaguest sense and the torture room used is the mine lol #i also like the dialogue for 4 #'lets try to get that spund out of you again'#might need to do that to him too 👀#penumbra: shadow king #whump #villain whumpee #royal whump #psychological torture #violence tw #prideful whumpee

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spiralofwhump · 2 years

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Oh? Whumpee time!

Name: Marius (last name unknown)

Age: ???

Species: Vampire

Role: Whumpee

A revered vampire amongst many, but even if he’s rich with plentiful resources he’s the type to sit back and let others do his bidding. Why should he lift a finger when he has loyal subjects at his call? Also hates being told what to do and how to do it, he’s usually the one giving orders.

A tad narcissistic, okay maybe more than a tad. Marius keeps himself well groomed and makes sure everything is in tip top shape. He tries to keep his image spotless, and the idea of being seen as anything other than a powerful, elegant vampire is his worst nightmare. Marius has to look good, no weakness, no doubts, only perfection. It’s almost a fear of his being seen vulnerable or weak,

Also the type to drink blood out of a cup, yeah he’s that type of vampire- very punchable indeed.

Good thing this prideful vampire will be getting an attitude adjustment soon~

#whumpee #pet whumpee #vampire whumpee #oc picrew #whumpee picrew #Marius #prideful whumpee #defiant whumpee

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hurtmyfavsthanks · 5 months

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Content warning: pet whump mention

I’m thinking about a captive, broken whumpee. One who has entirely given up on escape, accepting their new life and every humiliation that comes with it. One that doesn’t even try to pretend they’re not someone’s pet.

And I want them to be shown off to Caretaker. Maybe Caretaker’s supposed to be undercover, maybe they’ve bought Whumpee to save them. Whatever the case, I want Caretaker to see Whumpee at their lowest point, submissively at the feet of their master.

For the first time in months, maybe years, shame burns in Whumpee’s throat. They can see the dashed hope in Caretaker’s eyes, see the pity. Whumpee is suddenly painfully aware of their position at Whumper’s feet, of the thin, lacey collar around their neck that’s there for show more than anything else.

They can’t tear their eyes from Caretaker’s shocked, horrified face. Thoughts of escape are distant in their mind, overwhelmed by the sickening shame Whumpee feels. They want nothing more than to hide their weakness, to put on a show of defiance, to hide the reality that they’d shattered under the pressure and submitted. The gentle tightness around their throat stops them.

Whumpee can only bow their head and sob.

“Oh my,” Whumper’s voice is thick with humor, cutting through their false disapproving tone. “Now look at what you’ve done. You’ve upset them.”

#oh my LORD finals are over thank the hevens #anyway i love it when prideful whumpees feel overwelming shame at their state. even while caretaker what's nothing more than to help them #broken whumpee #whump prompt #caretaker #pet whump #my stuff #whumper

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avvail-whumps · 11 months

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‘guns for hire’ — target practice #15

previous · masterlist · next

content warnings: past whipping mention, multiple whumpers, mentioned gun violence/threat, manhandling

Getting up from the comfort of his bed was difficult. Not only could he feel the looming threat of Roy hanging over his shoulders, but the brief encounter he’d had with other mercenaries was making his stomach pool with dread. Roy by himself was a terrifying force; now there were more like him, and the secretary found himself hesitant to even leave his room.

His back was throbbing, and he’d even considered digging the crutches back out to take away some of the lingering pain. The thought of being that defenceless again wasn’t sitting right with him, however, so he decided against that idea.

The painkillers were taking the unbearable edge off, and when he’d hobbled over to the window, he could see the strangers outside. All four of them, and from the looks of it, they’d set up a few sturdy, human shaped targets. When Leo looked further on, he could see a big crate filled with what he could only assume was guns.

He swallowed, backing away before somebody could see him.

Roy wasn’t outside, which meant he could possibly still be in the house. Leo wasn’t pleased with the idea, but he wanted to stay as far away from the strangers as he could.

Tugging Roy’s jacket on, he let the sleeves engulf his hands, gripping tightly onto the ends, and finally breached the hallway.

It was quiet.

Even as he strained his ears to get a relative idea of where the mercenary could be, there was only silence that followed. He swallowed uneasily, trying not to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He could only assume what he looked like after what happened in the basement. He didn’t want to feel any worse than he already did.

Silently sliding down the stairs, Leo let his eyes briefly flicker around. The sunlight was streaming in through the windows, and everything could almost be mistaken as normal. He softly bit the inside of cheek, gently pushing the kitchen door open.

Luckily for him, it was empty.

He gratefully closed the door behind him with a relieved sigh, his shoulders sinking. His eyes swiftly snapped to the clock above the cupboards. Making food for six people was going to take some time, so Leo was glad he managed to grit his teeth through the pain and get up out of bed when he did.

It was difficult to bend down into the lower cupboards, and he found his eyes watering from the pain each time. He didn’t want to remember the lick of the whip against his skin, but the memories resurfaced unwillingly each time, and it made his stomach curl with nausea. He didn’t know much about whipping, but he was praying it wouldn’t leave any scars.

He bit back his train of thought, popping the cupboards and drawers open so he could decide what to cook. It’d have to be something he could make a big portion of in bulk, and his eyes locked onto a can of chopped tomatoes. He gently took it in his fingers, setting it down on the countertop.

He wondered if he’d make something they didn’t like; what would he do if they didn’t like Spaghetti Bolognese?

He sniffled, taking out a couple pans.

Leo pressed his lips into a thin line, his bottom one still sore to the touch. Anxiety was rushing through his veins, and he could feel stress pricking at the back of his neck already. Some part of him wanted Roy to walk through those doors right now, maybe say something nice like he used to, even if it wasn’t genuine. Leo would’ve really liked to hear something nice right now.

He eyed some thyme and bay leaves, forcing himself to start cooking. He set the mince in the pan, preparing the pasta for later, deciphering how much he really needed. Time seemed to fly when he started cooking, and when he glanced at the clock, he was worried they were going to walk through the door and demand why the table wasn’t set with food yet.

The smell of beef and tomato wafted through the kitchen, and Leo found himself putting the pasta on. He numbly set the plates along the table, fingers fumbling for the cutlery to go with it.

Leo must have been so distracted by the task, that he hadn’t even heard the door clicking open. His only indication another person had entered was a brief shadow in the corner of his eye, which made him flinch back instinctively and almost stagger on his feet.

With a sinking realisation, the secretary noticed it wasn’t Roy that had come in.

It was one of the other strangers, the one who he briefly recognised as the man who’d been carrying the pack of beers in his grasp. He was looking at him with piercing eyes, expression unreadable underneath his sharp features. His brown hair seemed to be quite long, but when he turned his head aside to glance at the pans on the stove, Leo eyed the bun it was curled up into on the back of his head.

“Bolognese?” The man murmured, and Leo’s eyes widened in panic.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed out, his eyes darting from him to the pan. “I didn’t know if…if you don’t like it, I…”

His throat closed up, and Leo anxiously wrung his fingers together as he analysed the man’s stoney expression. He just seemed to shake his head slowly, staring at the pan.

“It’s fine,” he grumbled. “I’ll have a smaller plate. And you should give Bran the biggest. He’s the big guy with the scar.”

Leo didn’t quite know what to say, so he stiffly nodded his head.

His nerves were shot, and yet for some ridiculous reason, he really wanted Roy to be here. He felt this horrible uncomfortableness creeping down his spine, and all he could think about was how relieved he would feel if Roy was standing between them. That was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Because out of everybody here, it was Roy that had hurt him the most.

As Leo stiffly stirred the mince in the pan, the other man softly cleared his throat.

“Sorry.”

The secretary risked a glance.

“I found you, so I feel like I was responsible for getting you in trouble with Roy.”

Leo swallowed, his throat bobbing. He recalled his voice in the darkness, the chill he’d felt sinking into the pits of his heart when he knew he’d been spotted.

“I think his pet got out.”

He anxiously chewed on his lip, forcing his eyes back onto the pan. He was mindlessly stirring now, his head a million miles away. He wasn’t going to tell the man it was okay, because it made a spitfire of frustration spark in chest that he had the gall to try to apologise to him, as disingenuous as it might be.

He went to move onto the pasta wordlessly to test if it was ready, when the door slammed open with a cracking bang.

Leo flinched, wrenching his head around as the man who he’d described as a ‘big guy’ came barreling in, his lip curved into a smug grin and laughter still dying on his tongue. He was definitely someone who could knock Leo to the ground with a single hit, and he found himself gripping onto the edge of the countertop out of fear. His steely grey eyes instantly pinned him down, and a snort fell from his lips.

“That Roy’s jacket?” He scoffed, a twisted chuckle escaping him as he motioned to the other quiet man. He didn’t seem phased by the man’s entrance, simply looking at him with the same unreadable expression. “What are you, his fucking boyfriend?”

The other man finally seemed to frown. “I thought you were busy in the range.”

“I am,” the man, Bran, chuckled, leaving the door wide open behind him. “I came to find a better target.”

Leo almost shrank in on himself when he stalked closer, and he could easily recognise the scar going down his cheek. He eyed the food with a sneer, nose wrinkling in annoyance.

“Bolognese?”

Bran took the pan by the handle, and scooped some of the mince onto a spoon. Leo’s throat was too closed up to say anything when he ate a mouthful, and he even found himself shuffling away subtly to create some more distance between them. He was so imposing, his body broad and full, and Leo had the feeling he could lash out violently at him whenever he pleased, and he’d be unable to do anything about it.

His eyes slid towards the door, some part of his mind hoping Roy would walk through there any moment.

Bran’s lip curled into a sneer, and he instantly strode over towards the bin.

“Tastes like shit,” he hissed under his breath, and Leo’s heart leapt up into his throat as he watched the contents spill into the bottom of the bag. He’d even lurched forward, his eyes wide in fear.

“No!” He cried, stuttering to a stop as his mouth dried out. Bran’s eyes snapped towards him, and there was something dangerous flashing in that narrowed gaze. Leo didn’t dare look, staring hopelessly at the now empty pan, slick with sauce.

“No?” He echoed, a slight growl to the edge of his voice.

Leo hugged the jacket, his mouth quivering open in an attempt to say something. The word had blurted straight from his chest before he could even think, and hot dread was stabbing mercilessly at his heart as the big man straightened up, the pan clattering against the countertop. Bran’s lip quirked into a strained smirk, eyeing him up and down.

“You say something?”

Leo instantly began shaking his head, his words dying on his tongue. He could only manage a choked breath in response, making Bran nod his head.

“You’ll make for some good target practice then, huh?” He smirked, and Leo had barely even made it around the corner of the table before the man strolled towards him, and seized his wrist in a terrifyingly tight grasp. Leo gasped in pain, and was hardly even able to gain the strength in his legs before he was being dragged towards the kitchen door.

The other man went to switch the stove off, taking the pan of pasta off as he watched them with sharp eyes. “I don’t know if Roy’s going to be happy with that.”

Bran whipped around, and the roughness of his grasp reminded him of the night of the escape. He’d been the one who’d dragged him out from behind the car, and into Roy’s awaiting arms. He froze still, feet planted into the ground, and tried to control the breathing that had picked up to an irregular pace in his chest.

“He ain’t here, is he?” He snarled. “He’s busy. I won’t put too many rounds in him.”

Leo tried to protest as he was dragged away, but it only seemed to come out as a terrified squeak.

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

#guns for hire #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #whump scenario #whump fic #whump community #whumpee #whumper #leo and roy #my writing #writing #whump tropes #a new part for pride month huh

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cepheusgalaxy · 10 months

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My Riot Kings fanart

I said a while ago that I was going to make a Riot Kings (by @befuddled-calico-whump) fanart, specifically of Melchior, and I finally finished it

I had some fun doing it, so much that now I'm going to do fanarts often of the series I like here from tumblr and post here.

This is my second whump fanart, actually. The first one wasn't posted but if anyone want to see it I will post.

Whatever, I'd point the faillures on this drawing, but I think you guys won't judge me and also you can see it on the drawing.

Yep, that's it. I'm planning on getting better but enjoy my Mel's fanart!

#riot kings #whump art #fanart #traditional art #my art #whump drawing #whumpee drawing #whumpee #I'm a little disaponted with my own painting so i'm focusing on this fow now #But i liked it #it's good #or at least enough for now #happy pride yall!#riot kings fanart #riotkings fanart

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whump-kia · 26 days

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i am the one who's out of touch - eclipse

There are orders Peter can ignore. The ones Kiko gives in his everyday life, he can say no to. But he’s looking in her eyes, and raising his hands to hurt her, off of orders he cannot refuse to obey.

WoW's birthday whump event day 1: alternate prompt - forced to hurt another

#wow birthday whump #wow birthday whump day 1 #wow birthday whump alt prompt #forced to hurt another #android whumpee #eclipse mothership rpg #i am the first and only fic in that fandom. and i will bear this with pride #fanfic #fanfiction

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katwriteswhump · 22 days

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Whumpril 2024 Day 6: Dizziness

@whumpril hi lmao

Content: some weird fucked up romance, mention of past whumping of a minor. mostly just selma being fucked up

yeah so basically morgan got into a fight, at the start of the series and ended up in hospital, with selma as their nurse, but then selma bumped into this guy who kidnapped her years ago who everyone thought was dead (finn). and yeah

Day 6: Dizziness

It happened every time she saw him. She forgot who she was, what she was doing. He was around that patient Morgan a lot, but never seemed to speak to Selma. Which she was glad about. Whatever the police said, a mushroom didn’t change its spots, and Finn was certainly a mushroom in this case.

She was terrified of him, she knew that much. It was only the adrenaline of their recent meeting that had kept her from passing out at the sight of his face.

She’d never expected to see him again, and definitely not in these circumstances. Every time she looked at him, she felt like she wanted to throw up. She felt so dizzy. He made her feel so weak. And it wasn’t the same fear that had haunted her night and day as a teenager. This was a new fear, that made her want to fall down, faint, tense up, and kiss him on his stupid, obnoxious mouth.

Shit. Maybe it wasn’t the fear at all.

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whumpprentice · 9 months

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there's so much potential in temporary sensory deprivation imo. the fear, the inability to pretty much function properly, the reliance on either caretaker or whumper, the overwhelming of sensations when it eventually returns. yeah

#whump prompt #whumpblr #sickfic prompts #sickfic whump #bonus points for prideful whumpee who tries to play it off

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witchy-shortcake · 11 months

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New whump scenario just dropped

When someone gets severely sick or injured exactly in the most unfortunate moment possible, with no responsible adults in sight and all the pressure of taking care of the whumpee(s) plus the need to unfuck the absolute mess of a situation theire in relies on your local sleep deprived and most likely traumatized teenager/relatively older kid Who hasn't got the slightest idea of what theire supposed to do.

#whump writing #whump tropes #whump prompt #whumpee #caretaker #whump drabble #Feverish whumpee #whump ideas #Whump #Writing #pride 2023 #OC #fyppage #june 2023

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as-a-matter-of-whump · 2 years

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Temperature Day

prompt by @whump-of-the-month

Thanks @b0amagination for providing an absolute gem in modern literature (I won’t reveal which part of the dialogue it is though 😏)

CW: captivity, freezing, implied creepy/intimate whumper, blind whumpee, mention of past hand whump, swearing, implied character death

~*~

Jonah wrapped his arms around his legs. “It’s getting colder in here.” “Nonsense. The temperature hasn’t changed. You just think it’s colder because you’re not moving.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Just walk around for a bit and you’ll be warm again,” Vincent sighed, slightly annoyed.

“You’re so incredibly funny,” the younger one hissed, “Walking around where? In this tiny fucking room where I can’t even see a thing?”

“Do whatever you want to, as long as you shut up, I’m tired of your complaints… what am I supposed to say? I won’t be able to see a fucking thing ever again! But instead of just sitting around and whining I’m trying to come up with something to get us out of here!” “So? Any plans yet?” Jonah asked sarcastically. “Because you’re just sitting around, doing nothing.”

“Well, I can’t do anything, can I?”

“Are you going to use your blindness as an excuse for everything now? He did horrible things to me as well and I’m still trying to figure out how we can escape this nightmare!”

“Good! That’s all I want you to do!”

“I still can’t do this all on my own!”

“Do what on your own? If you have a plan you should really consider sharing it with me!”

“You know that there’s only one thing we can do.”

“And what might that be, if you don’t mind me asking?” Vincent sounded angry, but at this point, Jonah didn’t mind anymore; what was he supposed to do to him anyway? They had to rely on each other, he wouldn’t even think of hurting his former captive now… So maybe they could actually get away from this place if they worked together.

“I already thought that you wouldn’t have an answer to that,” Vincent snorted when Jonah stayed silent.

“I do.”

“What is it, then? What’s your plan?”

“Wait until Domenic comes back and get his ass.”

“He’s ace, you insensitive prick.”

Jonah’s jaw dropped for a short moment, then he started to cackle - only seconds later, Vincent joined in. They both knew that there was really nothing to laugh about in their current situation, but it felt so good, even if this moment of ease was gone after just a few seconds. They fell silent until the younger one’s curiosity made him speak up again.

“You were joking, right?”

“About what?”

“Him being ace.”

“Nope, he is. Aroace, to be precise.”

“Then why did he… you know…”

“What?”

“He touched me and made… some suggestive comments.”

“Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that. Why did he do that?”

“I guess he just wanted to humiliate you. It’s not a secret that you don’t react well to intimacy.”

“Wonder why..,” Jonah muttered, turning away.

After a moment of silence, Vincent spoke up.

“You were right.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s really getting colder.”

“I know.”

“Let’s get up and move around for a moment, I think it’s because we’ve been sitting on the floor the whole time.”

“Huh…”

“Come on, help me up!”

“No, I don’t want to, I- ahhh! What was that for?”

“I told you to help me up.”

“And I said that I don’t want to!”

Vincent hit his arm again, but then he leaned back and rested his head against the wall.

“We have to find a way to stay warm. As soon as possible.”

“What do you mean? Wait- he is decreasing the temperature in here, isn’t he? He- he can do that, right? He’ll let us freeze to death!”

“No!” Vincent interrupted him vigorously; then, way softer, he added: “I don’t think he’d do that.”

“But he could?!”

“Well, technically…”

“Oh my fucking God!”

Overcome by despair, Jonah smashed his fist against the wall, only to cry out in pain; for a second he had forgotten that his wrist had been shattered only a few days ago.

“Stupid boy..,” Vincent whispered and groped for the other man’s hand in the darkness.

He could feel the blood seeping through the bandages and even though he was somehow grateful that Domenic had patched them up after smashing Jonah’s wrist and driving a nail through both their hands, he knew him well enough to realize that this didn’t mean anything. He might still kill them. In a way, Domenic was like a cat that enjoyed playing with its prey until it finally decided to devour it.

“We’re going to die here, aren’t we?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Is there anything we can do to get out?”

“No.”

“But-”

“He’ll come back sooner or later. We’ll just have to stay alive until he does.”

“Oh, is that all we have to do? Stay alive until he’ll get us out of here and subjects us to even more horrible things?” Jonah screeched, panicking now.

“Yes, it is. And we can do that as long as we work together. It’s the only chance we have. Now come on, get over here.”

“What do you want from me?”

“We have to keep each other warm.”

“Not like that.”

“Do you prefer freezing to death?”

“I’m seriously considering it right now.”

“Don’t be such a fool.”

He felt a hand on his sleeve and tried to move away, but the hand was holding him back.

“Let me go!” he hissed, trying to break free, lashing out at Vincent and hurting his hand even more in the process.

“Stop that, just this once - stop it and come over!”

“I don’t want to get near you! It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t kidnapped me-”

“Jonah, shut up, will you? It doesn’t matter now, I’m just trying to get us out of here!”

“You’re the one who got us into this situation in the first place! It’s your fucking house and your fucking friend, why don’t you know how to get out of this fucking cell?”

“Stop swearing!”

“I fucking won’t!!!”

He drew back and curled up in one of the corners and glared at the older man, even though he could barely see him in the darkness.

“You’re going to die if you stay there,” Vincent grunted, wrapping his arms around his knees.

“Good. Can’t wait to finally be through with all of this.”

“Stop saying that, we’ll get out of here. Alive.”

The young man only snorted and leaned his head against the wall. He didn’t care anymore.

~*~

“Jonah.”

“Hm?”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know. But you have to stay awake.”

He turned his face away when he felt an arm around his shoulders, but he was too weak to move, even when he felt the ice cold skin of his captor touch his cheek, the chapped lips too close to his own.

“Stay with me, Jonah…”

So cold. So tired….

Breathing a small sigh, he closed his eyes.

~*~

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