#whump story

[jakkon-and-rose-topic]

Cw: Mentions to graphic... sickness, blood, shaking, withdrawals in general, stuff like that, Swearing

By agonizing withdrawals, I mean agonizing. Be warned

(Please leave comments I love reading them, even if it's just a simple oof or F in the chat for this poor man - No he isn't dead)

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Jakkon stumbled and leaned heavily against the wall with a soft groan. He needed something, anything. It hurt. It hurt far worse than he'd expected. The Satyr gasped through his teeth, breaths shuddering with every movement as his throat tightened and his lungs shattered in his ribs.

He held onto the rock as best as he could, other hand gripping the fabric of his shirt over his chest as pain pulsed like a fiery heart beneath his skin. “Shit…” Jakkon looked up, gritting his teeth as he tried to level his ragged breaths. He needed to see the others. If not, they might suspect something was wrong. He needed to piece it back together and stand up straight. He could do that. He could handle pain. He could ignore it. He'd done it plenty of times before to fool Rose out of burning herself out. He could do it again.

Jakkon shook the hair out of his face and steadied himself. He managed a level step and quiet breaths, but he funneled all of his efforts into staying upright and could hardly find the control to keep his hands from shaking. A tugging dread crawled through his mind as his fake optimism began to crumble. What if he couldn't do this? What if it killed him? What if he hurt someone?

The Satyr shook his head as he forced an uneven smile and directed his attention to appearing fine. But despite all of his efforts, his heart raced and his focus slipped away. He stepped into the doorway of the main cavern and hesitated.

But before he could rethink his decision, Rose waved with a smile. “Good morning Horns!”

“Morning.” He nodded to her, slipping his hands behind his back as he trotted over and sat down beside her.

“Are you alright? You're awake later than usual.” The Fae raised an eyebrow.

“I’m alright. I will be. Do you have any tea, water, or something like that?”

Rose stopped for a moment, but Morena smiled at him from beyond her. “I do. Would you like some tea?”

“Yes please.” The Satyr smiled gratefully, finally able to let go of the concentration and effort it took to stand, hoping desperately that if he had something to drink, it might loosen the claws of pain digging into his skin from every angle.

“Here.” Morena smiled warmly as she pushed a cup of tea toward him.

The Satyr lifted the cup to his lips as gently as he could. It didn’t help as much as he’d hoped, but it did enough, taking his mind off of the pain for a moment. But the relief only lasted for a moment, as a sudden stab of new agony shot through his shoulder and an intense wave of nausea hit him like a rock.

He flinched, pulling back from the table. “Ah…F- I… I should go.”

“What? Horns! Horns are you okay?” Rose stood quickly.

Jakkon groaned in pain. “Yes… I’m… Fuck, ow, no! No, I’m not okay. Shit…”

Rose’s eyes widened and she started to move toward him, but worry sparked into his eyes as he noticed Rose’s desperate terror and instinctively pulled back to avoid hurting her, standing suddenly in an attempt to back away further. But the sudden motion finally snapped the last string holding him upright and he collapsed against the table, shaking.

“Shit! Fuck! Morena! Get Finn!” Rose tensed, vaulting over the table as Jakkon’s body shrank in on itself and fell to the ground, leaving him to convulse on the stone floor, as Rose began to panic, searching for something to do.

But as she froze, he coughed, blood beginning to foam from his mouth as his body began to shake and jerk violently. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!” Rose began to hyperventilate as she ripped the coat from her shoulders and shoved it under his head as a hope that it would help prevent any damage from the stones beneath him as her wings flapped and bright orange Roses rained petals so thick it covered both of them. His hands twitched, fingers gripping at nothing in the air as his entire body tensed and shook with him.

Finn and Morena rushed back into the room. Finn lunged for Rose, eyes widening in horror as he caught a glimpse of what was going on. The harpy pulled her back into the hallway, away from what was going on. Rose resisted his hold, screaming and clawing at his arms as she shrieked for her brother-in-law, terrified beyond anything she’d ever felt before.

Finn closed his eyes, trying to shut out Rose's desperate screams as her nails dug into his skin, just like Jakkon when Eveny had died. Fighting and screaming with all his will to save her, now Rose for him. Though she didn't fight like he had. She fought for her brother, for the last thing she had left.

@agirlandherquill @aestheic-writer18 @aalinaaaaaa @cybercelestian @corinneglass @bifluidmax08 @leotheponderer @rivenantiqnerd @kia-is-poisoned @thelazywitchphotographer @baconandeggs-25 @i-hate-happy-endings @ajgrey9647 @carosbee @vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @wisteria-whump

#creative writing #fiction writing #writeblr #writer things #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #writing community #whump community #whump writing #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump scenario #whump stuff #whump series #whump story #whump snippet #whump angst #whump whump whump #whump wip #whump things #whump drabble #whump caretaker #whump blog #whump

[unforgivenn]

SHACKLED BY ROYALTY

#1 :THE BEAST'S PET

CW: abduction, captivity, slight whump, coercion, power dynamics, pet whump, drugging, defiant whumpee, swearing, dominant whumper, slavery

Noah woke to the jolt of the wagon hitting a rut in the road. Darkness surrounded him and he could only think he was blindfolded. The cloying scent of sweat and fear clinging to the air like a suffocating shroud. Disorient and groggy, he blinked away the remnants of his sleep, his senses gradually coming alive to the harsh reality. He suddenly sat up frantically shaking his head as if the tightened blindfold would somehow magically fall off.

"H-Hey!! Let me out of here!!" His body ached from the unforgiving jostle of the wagon, every bone protesting against the place he was in right now. Chains rattled with each bone-jarring bump in the road, a chilling reminder of the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles, tethering him to a fate he dared not contemplate.

"Where are you taking me?!!" Noah's screams only grew louder when no response was given. His heart beating so fast as if it would jump out of his chest. "ANSWER ME! SOMEONE!" He quietened when he heard a "tch" near him.

A deep, South American accent cut through the darkness like a blade, sending a shiver down Noah's spine. "Didn't expect him to wake up this early. And he's awfully loud," the voice mused, its casual cruelty sending a chill through the air.

Noah's heart pounded in his chest as he felt a rough hand grab his arm, the sting of a needle piercing his skin sending shockwaves of numbness coursing through his veins. Just then he heard whines around him. There were people. More people like him. Gradually, the numbness from the injection site started to spread.

Noah tried his best to speak something. Something that could catch the attention of other people there. He felt confused.

Who were these people? And where the hell were they taking him?

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

Abruptly, the cart lurched to a halt, the sudden cessation of movement sending Noah sprawling against the unforgiving floor. He woke with a small cry of pain, his heart hammering in his chest as he listened, breath held in fearful anticipation.

Footsteps approached, heavy and purposeful, accompanied by the jingle of chains and the murmured voices of unseen captors. Noah's pulse quickened, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach like icy tendrils of dread.

Two muscular arms went under each of Noah's underarms holding him up.

"Where are you taking me?!" he cried out, his voice raw with fear, but his captors remained silent, their faces hidden in the shadows.

One of the guys patted Noah's head leaving him more enraged.

All of a sudden, he was thrown to the ground before he was being manhandled to be in a kneeling position with multiple chains on his neck, ankles and wrists holding him in place allowing his captors to have full control over him.

As the blindfold was ripped away, Noah blinked against the harsh light, his eyes adjusting to the sight of his surroundings. It seemed like some sort of a court room? His mind was still clouded up from the drug that was given to him.

"W-What the fu-" A harsh slap shut him up.

"Shush. The young prince will be here any second" Prince? What the fuck was happening?? He wanted to question more but knew better than that. It felt like a scene right out of Hollywood.

Suddenly, he saw the men around him which he thought were most probably the guards bowed down to a young man. Noah raised his head up as to see who it was before a rough hand in his hair forced his head back down only allowing him to see the man's piercing green eyes. The man whom they called the "young prince" stayed quiet. The tension in the room visibly increased before a deep voice spoke.

"Leave us." The guards were quick to retreat from their position and going out of the court room. Noah was about to get up from his kneeling position before flinching at the harsh voice. "Stay still slave!"

"Slave?!" Noah's voice wavered with disbelief, but the harsh slap that followed left him reeling, his cheek stinging with the sting of humiliation. He heard the man tutting.

"Oh dear" He sighed. "It's going to take a lot of time to break that swearing and defiance from you.. But.."

The man grinned, the smile no other than a vicious beast's. He leaned closer, his teeth barely just grazing the other's ears before he whispered. "Oh how I'll enjoy seeing you squirm and beg me to spare you" Noah's body practically froze, terror filling his eyes.

Desperation clawed at Noah's chest as he dared to question his captor's authority. "W-Who are you...?"

But the prince's response sent a chill through his bones—a predatory grin twisting his lips as he whispered promises of torment and submission.

"I'm Andrey. Son of Viktor Kozlov," the prince declared, his name a whispered curse that echoed in Noah's ears. "You will address me as 'sir'."

Noah's blood ran cold as the weight of his situation settled upon him. This was no mere kidnapping—it was a descent into a nightmare from which there would be no waking.

As the reality of his situation sank in, Noah's world spun on its axis, his mind racing with unanswered questions and unspoken fears. With each passing moment, the weight of his captivity grew heavier, a suffocating shadow looming over him, threatening to consume him whole.

Noah only knew this was going to be one hellish of a ride. And only god knew when it was going to end.

#the beast's pet #whump story #whumblr #whump #whump community #whumpblr #whump scenario #my writing #whumper #pet whump #pet whumpee #slavery #slave whumpee #writing scenario #writeblr #writing community #oc noah #oc andrey #my ocs #new story idea #tumblr writers #original work #my whump writing #whump writing #whump tropes #defiant whumpee #cw cursing #cw slavery #cw pet whump #cw drugged

[whumpninja]

*tapping a nonexistent microphone* soooooooo these are my first two ocs, or as I like to call them, ‘brain action figures-‘

This is Angel! He’s the vampire version of a sabretoothed cat- he doesn’t have cute little pinprick pointy teeth, oh no. This man has six-inch fangs hiding in that razor-sharp jawline. But he’s currently not having a good time with those nifty mouth machetes of his, because they’re the reason he’s being forced to fight and kill other vampires in a somewhat-illegal-but-the-cops-are-just-eh-about-it sport known as bloodbaiting! Angel, because he has friggin’ switchblades for teeth, is really good at winning these fights, hence his stage name- the Angel of Death.

And this lovely lady is Keola! She’s just started her own vet clinic and isn’t doing so hot with the business side of it. But then she gets an offer from a mysterious client- “my, uh, exotic animal is hurt, will you come help me out if I give you a couple thousand dollars?” Keola, sensing no red flags, happily accepts! And finds herself, instead of investigating the toothache of somebody’s pet tiger, helping to patch up a very busted, very angry vampire prize fighter who is having absolutely none of whatever she’s trying to do to him. Keola, who happens to be a half-vampire herself, isn’t a big fan of this setup, and starts plotting a way to get Angel out of the ring for good…and get him to stop trying to take a chunk out of her arm every time she touches him.

This is the first of multiple plotlines in the same “vampires and humans exist together but they’re really bad at it” universe I’ve developed! I wanted to start with this one because it’s the earliest in the timeline, and it’s my favorite because I do love me a whumpee in a cage match. Really excited to post my writing here soon!

#vampire whump #vampire whumpee #forced to fight #whump #whump writing #whump story #angel of death #angel #keola #jack be whumpy

[whumpsoda]

Coming Back to Bite You Part 1 - Swept Up

Masterlist

Finally putting this out there, hopefully I continue it :) updates will probably be pretty slow and gradual!

cw: vampire whumper, kidnapping, hypnosis, alcohol use, mention of death

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He was going to throw up. 

Marshall gripped the can of beer in one calloused hand, taking an aggressive swig of the beverage, still cold droplets of liquid dribbling over his fingers. His throat bobbed with each continuing gulp, and his stomach churned in a boil of acidic bile. The bitter taste of alcohol coated his mouth, swishing off his tongue and dancing down his throat, until he realized he was going to choke. Marshall’s moist lips released the can with a weak gasp. 

He lazily dropped it to the concrete with a clang, the last sip of liquid slipping And seeping into the cracks of the concrete. With a groan he dug his trembling hands into the skin of his flushed face, bits of dried and cracked blood still crammed in rings underneath his crooked nails.

The sour smell of gore still tainted his runny nostrils, infecting the scent of his several tossed away and half finished drinks. Begrudged tears pricked at his eyes, leaving his vision glassy and wet as he desperately tried to wipe them gone.

He should’ve be used to it. Five plus years of vampire hunting experience should’ve prepared him, but it didn’t. It never did.

Marshall choked back a soft sob, brushing at his face roughly in an attempt to rid the tears stained with embarrassment. He didn’t know why he did it. Why he had for five years, and why he continued to. Why he still didn’t quit after seeing yet another young newbie die a gruesome death at the hand of a monstrous creature, with nothing to do to stop it.

How pathetic.

“Something wrong?”

His limbs froze rigid, the sharp, close words cutting through the nightly silence. He shifted, gaze meeting with that of a small woman seated neatly beside him. 

Her face was shadowed by the light shining upon her back, but he could still clearly see her soft grin and glittering eyes. 

“Um,” he sputtered, gears turning to catch his mind up with his mouth. “Leave, leave me alone.”

She grinned, eerily soft and sweet, tilting her head a smidge. The essence of a mother speaking to her child. “I’d love to help.”

Help? Puzzled anger bubbled bigger in his belly, only strengthened by her audaciousness. “I said,” he snarled, face twisting and seething, his crooked teeth bared in likeness to that of the creatures he was trained to kill. “Leave me alone.”

“Driving home?” 

Marshall groaned, sickly, taking a peek at his tattered old truck sitting in the empty lot. His vision shifted, rolling down to the can he’d placed beside his foot, previously filled with alcohol.

He gritted his teeth, grabbing the can once again and lifting it to his lips as the stranger watched. “Yeah? So what?” He spat, taking a petty sip. 

The woman sighed, her smug grin never so much as faltering. “Just thought I’d remind you.” She huffed, holding back a chuckle.

“Why don’t you just mind your own business?” Marshall grumbled, glaring sharply at the stranger. She simply giggled, dripping with condescension, waving him off. Was it so hard to get five minutes to himself?

“Oh, you are very funny, dear. A bit temperamental as well, I see.” She chuckled again.

What was her problem?

That was it. It was not the time. The stranger obviously didn’t have anything better to do than irritate someone crying in the middle of nowhere covered in grime and vampire blood, and seemed to be having a good time with it. Marshall, on the other hand, was no short of seething.

He pushed himself to his feet, wiping his cheeks of sweat and tears and adjusting his coat. Without another word he stepped to leave.

To his surprise, shocking strength wrapped around his wrist, holding him back and leaving him unable to walk off.

“Oh, please don’t go. I didn’t mean to upset you. Sit back down with me, won’t you?”

Marshall stared back in bewilderment at the woman firmly clutching his wrist. What? Confusion was boggling him, poking at his brain. Was she crazy? Who was she to think he would follow her request? After she’d been practically taunting him when he was obviously distressed?

Though-

He paused. He had meant to snap another insolent response, but nothing came out. Why did he-

His vision swiftly glazed over blurry, fogging up his eyes as they turned glassy and unfocused. Marshall wobbled in his spot, legs buckling and shivering with weakness. The ground spun under him, dizzying his head and coating his mind with wretched nausea. His fingers reached out for something to grab, something to stabilize him.

He needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit, he needed to sit-

He lazily stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet, plopping right back into his seat. This time, he was a smidge closer to the woman. Marshall’s head lolled into his hand, catching himself from such dizzying disorientation.

Why was he… back on the bench? Was he not just about to leave? Was she touching him?

Lightly she rubbed in circles over his back, a motion he almost took no notice of. “Sorry about that, dear. It’s alright now.”

“I… what…?” Marshall slurred, his mind still a thick sludge that desperately gripped the walls of his, hopeful not to slip further into befuddlement.

He… he’d felt similar. Before. Marshall knew the sensation well, the sensation of his brain slipping through his fingers like water, liquified and stolen right out from his own control. Stomped to mush.

No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no-

“Very pretty rings you have. Mind if I take a look?” She held his hand between both of her gloved ones, fingers trailing over silver that glimmered in the light.

“Um…”

Not waiting for an answer, the stranger swiftly slipped each ring off each finger, holding them oh so carefully. “Very nice. Very.” She inspected them for a moment, right before turning and tossing them in a garbage bin behind her.

With widened eyes he sputtered, lazily trying to claw for them a second too late. She swept right back into his personal space, forcing him to retreat back with distraction. “Hm. And what might that be?”

She pointed to his pocket.

To his wooden stake, a necessity for vampire hunters.

It couldn’t be-

“I- you, that’s-”

Before he could so much as react, she slipped it right from him with her impossibly quick and nimble hands. “A wooden stake? Silly, silly.” She tisked, ignoring his growing concern and tossing it to the floor. It rolled a few feet away, and with drowsy, draped eyes Marshall watched it crawl out of reach. “You won’t be needing that.”

Please, no-

“You! You- you’re-!” Voice rising with muddled heat, his brain’s realization was catching up with his mouth.

Oh, God-

“Relax. I’m just here to help you. Calm down, dear.”

“N-no… you’re-! Get off me!” He swiped at her outstretched hand, feebly slapping it away.

How could he have been so foolish? How could he have let a vampire so close? How? He’d been so distressed and out of it from that nights job he hadn’t even noticed. What a fool, what a fool, what a fool.

He recoiled, jumping right off the bench and running. With his brain already such a mangled mess he nearly fell over, only catching himself with one hand and pushing himself back up.

His steps were slow and drowsy, swaying arduously and dramatically on his weighted feet. Nonchalantly the stranger stood behind him, taking her sweet time to catch up.

“Go-! Go away! Go away!” he hollered, stumbling around in a growing daze toward his truck, slipping over nothing several times. Her follow persisted. “Go away!”

Her vampiric aura strengthened by the second, taking hold of his susceptible mind and pushing him back into a distant, fuzzy haze. His words were tumbling and quieting, his movements gradually decreasing.

“N- no… no… leave…! Go…”

Soon enough subtle fingers trailed swiftly down his spine, stopping him in place. “Shhh, shhh… relax, dear. Just allow your limbs to go all numb and sleepy.”

His shoulders buckled, jaw falling slack under the immense weight of hypnotic force. Even still, infected by disgusting pleasure, his stomach tensed with sour acid. “Nooo…”

She walked around him, meeting his gaze with sweet, mind melting eyes. “I know you must be scared, little one. My apologies for messing with you, I just couldn’t help it. I’ll be nice now, okay? So be a good boy and just sleep.”

Easy. She’d overpowered him, so easily. Five years of practice and he’d lost just like that. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic. How could he not hate himself? How could he not detest the world for such a fate he never deserved? Five years of service and he was going to lose his life at the hands of a vampire?

He’d been so careful.

“Just calm, oh so calm. Your mind settles, all sleepy and exhausted. Just let go for now. I won’t hurt you.” She soothed, cupping his face in her palms.

“Nuh… no… go…”

He didn’t want to let go. He had to escape. He wanted to escape. He wanted…

He wanted…

“Let… go…”

She smiled, warmth spreading through his belly, a blissful, distracting sensation that scattered any coherent thoughts clawing to the edges of his mind. “Good, good. Let go, dear. Just for a bit. You’ll have a very nice nap, okay? It’s all dark out here, which means you must be very tired. And nighttime means you sleep, doesn’t it?”

Marshall yawned, head lolling and body melting. He’d like a nap. He’d been working so dreadfully hard, he deserved one, did he not? A nap would be just wonderful.

“Aw, how cute. You’re so drowsy. Just falling asleep right in my arms, huh? Lovely. An easy catch, weren’t you?” He hummed in agreement, her words flowing through one ear and out the other. He was swiftly floating into unconsciousness, head gradually falling forward into his chest. “Shh… so very relaxed, sleep just holding your putty like mind in it’s hands. Just let go to the call of sleep and exhaustion. I know you want to, dear.”

It was strange, how delightful it felt. He’d been enthralled before, but never so deeply and thoroughly. His brain never so overridden. Why had he ever fought it? Why had he ever rejected such heaven? Marshall couldn’t so much as think of an answer.

Or, think at all, really.

Placing the kind pressure of her hand on the back of his neck, she easily guided the exhausted Marshall’s slick with sweat forehead into the nape of her neck.

“Good boy, good boy. Just let all your worries go. I tried so hard to make this easy on you, I know how easily fussy you humans can get. But everything is fine and calm. Calm and sleepy. Sleepy and relaxed. The darkness of the night makes you oh so exhausted and ready for bed.”

He shivered from the sound of praise, as well as the vampire stroking down his arms and stirring more pleasant feel as he drifted, brain coming to a stop. It felt better than it ever had to fall asleep. He smiled, and so did she. Even in the middle of winter, he’d never felt so pleasantly warm.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” She whispered sweetly, rocking him gently like a small child into an entranced sleep. “I’ll take great care of you, dear.”

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Next

Taglist- @softvampirewhump

If anyone wants to be removed or added to the taglist, please let me know! :)

#Coming back to bite you #Whump #whumpblr #whump story #vampire #vampire story #vampire whumper #whump writing #my writing #Marshall oc #Evangeline oc #Vampire hunter #enthralled #hypnotized #hypnosis #hypnosis whump #hypnotized whumpee #kidnapping

[echoingalaxies]

"There's nothing you could have done to him that would make me give up on him," Caretaker spat, glaring at Whumper. "I will always love him."

A deal was a deal, written in their blood, and magically binding. Caretaker had paid the price. Whumpee was coming back home. He'd walk through the door any minute, and he would be safe. They would finally be together again. Caretaker didn't care about what it had taken to make Whumper agree to such a trade. Whumpee would be okay. That was a win.

So Caretaker couldn't for the life of them figure out why Whumper looked so smug, so amused, as if they knew something Caretaker did not.

"Is that so?" Whumper's voice was unreasonably happy, and shivers ran through Caretaker's body. "You'd love him, no matter what he looks like now? He's been gone quite a while."

"I don't care about looks."

"That's certainly good to hear, then." Whumper reached for his pocket, taking something out, but it was small enough to fit in his closed fist. "So you'd still love the poor bastard even if he was... say... a worm?"

Caretaker's stomach dropped as he watched Whumper open his hand, revealing a small worm, which was desperately trying to make an escape.

Whumper began to laugh, satisfied with himself and Caretaker's visible horror. He picked the worm up with his other hand, dangling it between his fingers. The worm squirmed violently in his grip. Caretaker had to lean on the wall beside him, too horrified to choke out a single word.

"You..." he eventually managed, his voice shaking. "You... You're bluffing. That's not him. Where is he?"

"The deal was to return him alive and well, right? Look at him, not a mark on his body. If anything, I've treated him well."

"Where is the real Whumpee?!"

"Take it or leave it," Whumper said dangerously. "He's all yours."

Whumper raised his hand and tossed the worm at Caretaker. Caretaker caught it in his fist, as gently as he could, terrified of hurting it, not quite knowing what to believe, but not risking it.

Whereas the worm had wiggled hard when held by Whumper, it now was almost still on Caretaker's palm, pushing against his skin, as if it was trying to be as close to him as possible. A tear rolled down Caretaker's cheek as he gently ran his fingertip along the worm's body.

"W-whumpee...?"

A deal was a deal, written in blood, and Whumper was obligated to abide by it. It could have been just a sick joke, and Whumpee would actually be closeby waiting for Whumper's orders to come, but by the time Caretaker looked up from the tiny creature on his hand, Whumper had already turned to go, having done his part, and returned Whumpee to his loved ones.

#would you still love me if i was a worm??? #genuinely no idea what tags to use for this #whump #physical whump #magical whump #transformation #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #whump writing #whump story #whump community #creepy whumper #rescue whump #writing #writeblr #whumpee x caretaker #caretaker x whumpee #whumpblr #nonhuman whumpee #kind of???? #whump drabble #drabble #creative writing #writing prompt #writers #writing tag

[whumper-whimsy]

The long awaited...

Back Home P3

HEED WARNINGS

Reference to noncon, nudity, kidnapping, captivity, ransom, abuse, pet whump, caretaker × whumpee, fatshaming(scrutinizing gained weight [char isnt overweight, just not to "standard"), brief mentions of cancer, animal death, and human death, force feeding, shocking, creepy/gentle Whumper, stockholm syndrome (?)

-

Whumpee had already passed out when Whumper returned. They awoke what they assumed was hours later inside their kennel. To their relief, a blanket had been thrown over them— they had been tucked in. They pulled the comforter further up their body, trying to cover their bare shoulders.

They were almost back asleep when the bedroom door clicked and careful bootsteps approached.

Whumpee kept still, trying their best to appear like they were sleeping.

"Oh, Whumpee," Whumper cooed, stalking closer. "Are you awake in there?"

Whumpee's eyes cracked open just a fraction, revealing a sliver of their anxiety-laden gaze. They could feel the weight of Whumper's gaze on them, and the unease settled in their chest like a heavy stone. Their mind raced, desperately trying to think of a way to protect themselves from whatever Whumper had planned next.

Whumper's fingers trailed over the bars of the kennel, and Whumpee tensed, their heart pounding in their ears. "I know you're awake, my dear," Whumper purred, amusement tainting their words. "No need to pretend."

Swallowing hard, Whumpee forced themselves to relax, letting their body go limp as if still in slumber.

With a sudden jolt, Whumper's hand gripped Whumpee's ankle and pulled them out from under the covers. Whumpee yipped in fear as their bare body was pulled out from under the covers. They scrambled to pull the blanket back over their waist. Whumper's eyes bore into them, excited like a kid with a new toy.

"Such a fragile thing, aren't you?" Whumper mused, pouting.

"You've had your nap. Come on." Whumper's voice was stern. Whumpee shuffled forward, sitting on their knees. The cold air of Whumper's house made their skin tingle.

"Good pet," Whumper purred, scratching Whumpee's head. Whumpee pulled away from them, goosebumps prickling along their skin.

In response, Whumper grabbed their hair, making them yelp. Their voice was more disappointed than anything. "Oh, Whumpee. Absolutely not. You'll accept the affection I give you, got it?"

Whumpee cowered beneath them, their heart thumping.

"Got it?" The hand in their hair twisted and pulled up. Whumpee had to take the weight off their hands and stretch upwards for fear of their hair being ripped out.

"I understand," they squeaked, falling back to their hands and knees as Whumper released them.

"Good, hun. Now come along, will you?" Whumper started to leave the room, and Whumpee scrambled after them on their knees.

Whumper strode confidently through the hall, the monotonous tip tap of their shoes on the hardwood floors echoing against the walls. Whumpee followed close behind, staring at the heels of Whumper's shoes.

"You hungry yet? You must've burned quite a few calories before you passed out earlier." Whumper didn't check behind them to make sure Whumpee was following. Whumpee was breathing heavily through their nose as they kept up with Whumper's swift stride.

Once in the kitchen, Whumper finally turned. Their intense eyes scanned over Whumpee, seeming to rake through them and study every imperfection.

"You're out of shape, dear," Whumper leaned down, pinching the chub of their cheek. "The hell was Caretaker feeding you?"

"I eat whatever I want," Whumpee retorted, looking up at Whumper.

"You've put on weight, love. It's a shame, really. You were in exquisite shape under my care..." Whumper rose back to their feet, snagging a finger under Whumpee's collar and dragging them forward into the kitchen. "It's okay, sweetie, it's not your fault. It's that wretched Caretaker's fault. They let you get like this. But it's okay. We'll get you back to your regimen, and you'll be back in shape in no time." They patted Whumpee's cheek affectionately.

Whumpee didn't respond, struggling to keep up as they were dragged through the tiled kitchen. They saw new installments in the house as they were pulled through.

Whumpee got a better look as they arrived. Right between the fridge and a counter, there was a fancy padded dog beg with a chain hanging from the wall that was long enough to touch the bed.

"Go on, sit." Whumper tugged them forward. "Then I'll clip you in, and you'll be nice and secure."

Whumpee crawled forward slowly, feeling their hands and knees sink into the soft bed. They heard a little click as the chain clipped to their collar and turned to see Whumper standing over them.

"Stay there and be good, kay? Dinner will be ready soon." Whumper rubbed Whumpee's chin affectionately, then pulled away.

Whumpee stayed absolutely silent, leaning back against the wall as Whumper began to pull ingredients out of the fridge, an assortment of vegetables and fish.

God, they were cold. Whumpee sat against the wall, refusing to let their guard down for a second.

Whumpee tensed up as Whumper approached them.

"Open. Try this." A fork prodded at Whumpee's lips. "I tried a new rice recipe. And yes dear, you're getting rice. I figured it'd help warm you back up to your diet."

Whumpee chewed the rice, eyes on Whumper.

Why are they being so nice?

Maybe if they stayed quiet, Whumper would get bored of them.

Where are you, Caretaker?

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

It took a lot to make Caretaker cry.

They hadn't cried when their first dog had been hit by a car. They hadn't cried like their siblings had when their grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. Hell- they barely cried when their dad kicked the bucket.

But here they were, clutching Whumpee's dirty sweater to their chest. Wrecked. That was the best word for it.

Every muscle screamed for them to go find Whumpee, to bring them home, wrap them in a hundred layers of bubble wrap and never let them go again.

They couldn't.

It took most of their energy to crawl through the house to the bedroom and dig the sweater from their hamper. Everything hurt. Their cracked rib screeched in fury every time they took a shuddering breath, their bruised cheekbones stinging against the white sheets.

Well- they had been white once. Now they were blotted with a grim, deep red where Caretaker's blood had seeped in.

You have to do something.

Caretaker went to sit up after a moment, pain shooting up their sprained wrist. They fell back to the bed, hissing.

Don't be a wuss, they scolded themself. Whumpee's in much worse pain than this. Do this for their sake.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆◇

Whumpee was being served a gourmet salmon filet with a plate of fresh veggies.

They stared down at the meal, picking at the stalks of celery disdainfully.

Whumper sat a few feet in front of them, enjoying the very same dish. Their eyes flicked up and met Whumpee's, and a grin split their face. "Enjoying your salmon?"

"I don't eat fish." They responded, averting their eyes and picking up a slice of cucumber with their fork.

"You eat fish all the time, silly." Whumper laughed, continuing to bore their eyes into Whumpee. "Go on, try it."

"I don't eat fish." Whumpee repeated, biting into the crisp cucumber.

Their wrist was seized, and their fork clattered across the tablecloth. Whumpee choked on their cucumber slice, quickly swallowing it down.

"You ate fish nearly every day I had you." Whumper said. Whumpee's wrist was pinned against the table. "What right do you have," Whumper hissed, "to refuse your nice, home-cooked meal?"

Now the steak knife was tracing across their palm. Whumpee's other hand gripped the table and they did their best not to whine.

Whumpee took in a deep breath. "No, please-"

Whumper ignored them, spinning the knife on Whumpee's palm. "Oh hush, now. That'll get you nowhere. I make you delicious, healthy food and I expect you to eat it. You're lucky I even let you eat at the table.

You know I don't like having to hurt you," they said. "Apologise, and we can move on, dear."

"I'll eat," Whumpee spoke quietly, unable to shake the waver in their voice.

"And?" Whumper traced the lines of their palm ever so gently, causing Whumpee's hand to twitch.

"And I'm sorry."

"Good." Whumper finally amended, releasing their wrist. "Get to eating, now. You'll need the energy."

Whumpee didn't reply, cutting into the salmon finally. They took a bite, forcing it down. It was good fish, but all Whumpee could think about was their previous time spent in captivity. The same perfectly prepared fish and veggies were given to them at lunch and dinnertime before their beatings.

"There you go," Whumper said smoothly. "You're doing so much better already. I can tell that you're remembering how things are supposed to be."

Whumpee looked up at them momentarily, then returned to their meal.

Stay quiet, stay predictable, and stay boring, they thought. Whumper will get bored of me soon enough.

After dinner, Whumpee was brought to Whumper's bedroom. They were praying that they'd be shoved back into their cage for the evening, but they weren't quite that lucky.

Whumper sat them in the middle of the room, standing before them.

"Do you remember all your commands, Whumpee?" they asked, and when given no response, they continued. "Tonight we're gonna go through them all again. And if you've forgotten, I've got a little friend here to help us jog your memory." Whumper held up a shock collar, waving it enticingly.

Whumpee looked up at them, frozen. "Y- you don't have to use that, I- I'm fine without it. I've already got my collar on." Whumpee touched their collar gently.

Whumper brushed their hand away and switched their collar out.

"Here we are. Now kneel," Whumper ordered.

Whumpee did as they were told, kneeling with their back straight and their hands on their knees. Whumper hummed, nodding.

"Bow," Whumper said next, fiddling with the settings on the remote. Whumpee slid down until their palms and elbows touched the floor. A shock ran through their body, and they cried out.

Whumper tsked. "Head in the carpet. Raise your backside higher."

Whumpee fixed themselves, shaking.

Sit. Beg. Lay. Roll over.

Like they were a dog.

They were shocked several times for being too slow, making too much noise, not showing enough emotion in their eyes, bad posture, and whatever bullshit reason Whumper could come up with to see their pet jerk and cry in pain.

Their pet.

Was that what Whumpee saw themselves as? A pet, doing tricks for Whumper's entertainment?

Maybe it would be easier that way. Submitting to their purred commands, shooting Whumper puppy eyes when they praised them, falling into positions when they were asked... it could be so, so much easier.

Whumpee looked up at Whumper, at the expression on their face. They were smiling down at Whumpee with an achingly gentle expression.

"You're doing good, Whumpee, better than I expected. Like I said, I don't like hurting you. I shouldn't really have to, honestly. Alas, you respond very well to this form of training. We'll be done with it eventually." Whumper's hand rustled and then smoothed their hair.

Whumpee bowed their head, letting Whumper card their fingers through their hair.

"Oh, Whumpee... my sweet thing. I really missed having you. It's been so lonely here without you." Whumper got down on one knee, sighing. "Those eyes... won't you look at me, hun?"

Whumpee looked up, anxiety pricking at their neck.

"There we are. That. Those beautiful, innocent eyes." Whumper smiled lovingly. "Just... exquisite. I don't think I can ever give you back. We're meant to be together, you and I."

Whumpee didn't respond.

"Dear? Can't you talk?" Something like concern etched its way into Whumper's face. "You haven't spoken much since dinner.

"... can I go to bed?" Whumpee said softly.

They were granted a pair of warm black sweatpants and were locked back in their cage. Tucking back under their blankets, Whumpee thought of Caretaker's words to them.

"Whumpee, don't let them get to you. You promised you'd stay strong for me, right?"

Whumpee bit their lip, squeezing their pillow.

I'm sorry, Caretaker. I'm sorry for failing you.

Maybe I'm just as much of a pathetic toy Whumper says I am.

-

-

-

aren't you guys excited to wait another 9 months for pt 4? >:)

This series is literally my baby though oml

#whump blog #whump fic #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #whump tropes #whump story #whump scenario #emotional whump #nsfwhump #kidnapping #ransom #pet whump #shocking #caretaker x whumpee #gentle whumper #whumpee #whumper #caretaker #whumpee x caretaker #stockholm #maybe?

[mj-iza-writer]

Whumper arrived home from work a little earlier than normal, so they waited for Whumpee to come to the front door to help take her shoes off.

They tapped their nails against the stair's railing, it was taking Whumpee longer than necessary to come.

Whumper kicked her shoes off in frustration and stormed off to find Whumpee.

Finally Whumper walked into the kitchen and found Whumpee sprawled out on the floor.

"Did you fall asleep while doing chores? You useless...", Whumper nudged Whumpee's head with her foot, "wake up you."

Whumpee made a disturbed snore before weakly looking up.

"Mis-mistress, you're home", Whumpee whispered then realized. They hurried to bow and kiss her feet, "I-I'm sorry miss."

Whumper crouched down and slapped Whumpee's cheek, hard enough to sting.

"Why are you sleeping when you're supposed to be working", Whumper stood back up, "and on the kitchen floor of all places."

Whumpee looked down, "I-I'm sorry miss, the floor w-was cold. It fe-felt good", they rubbed their cheek.

"Cold?", Whumper raised an eyebrow, "it's not hot."

Whumpee fidgeted shyly and kept looking at the floor.

Whumper reached down and grabbed Whumpee's chin. She lifted their face to look at them.

"Are you feeling alright?", Whumper sighed as they looked over Whumpee's appearance, "your skin is pale, and you look flushed. Plus, your eyes are glossy, never a good sign with you."

Whumper waited a minute as they felt Whumpee's warm skin.

Whumpee seemed to tiredly sink into Whumper's hand, ignoring her nails digging into their skin.

"Whumpee are you about to fall asleep like this?", Whumper questioned worriedly.

Whumpee quickly wiped away a tear and looked up, "I'm sorry mistress."

Whumper sighed as all frustration melted away, her momma bear was kicking in.

"Okay come on, get up. Out to the couch with you", Whumper waved their hand to shew them away.

Whumpee quickly got up and rushed to the couch.

When Whumper walked into the living room they looked at the couch but didn't see Whumpee on it.

"Whumpee... oh! What are you doing?", Whumper looked down to see Whumpee on the floor in a crawling position.

"I-I'm ready for my punishment. My behavior has been.... very... ba... hmm", Whumpee started to fall forward, "I'm dizzy."

"Okay, come on, I meant I wanted you to lay on the couch", Whumper reached down and pulled Whumpee up, "you're not in trouble. I want to take your temperature, and have you take this medicine."

"Mistress.... couch... ar-are you sure?", Whumpee tried to wriggle out of Whumper's grip but was too weak.

"Yes, now lay down", Whumper commanded as they gave a gentle push to Whumpee.

Whumpee collapsed onto the couch.

"Mmph", Whumpee grunted when Whumper stuck the thermometer into their mouth. Whumpee looked up awkwardly.

"Don't look at me like that", Whumper crossed their arms and waited for the ding.

"I'm sorry, I'm not use to, um, this ma'am", Whumpee looked down.

"Don't get use to it either, I do have a heart though", Whumper sighed at the temperature, "quite a fever, have you felt like this all day? Why wasn't I made aware?"

"I started feeling bad after lunch, and I got really tired", Whumpee whispered, "I'm sorry."

Whumper sighed, "okay scooch over."

Whumper sat down beside Whumpee and wrapped an arm around them.

Whumpee stiffened as Whumper pulled them close.

"Just relax. You're okay", Whumper layed their hand against Whumpee's head.

Whumpee thought for a second before leaning into the hug and touch.

"Hmmm", Whumpee moaned, as Whumper rested her chin on their forehead to take in the fever.

Whumper held Whumpee's head up as they felt their body going limp. She lowered Whumpee's head until they laid down and rested their head on her lap.

Whumper scratched along Whumpee's head and ear until she heard snores.

"How dare you get sick on me", Whumper sighed at their slave, "make me have to care for you. You're hopeless without me. I hope you are aware of that."

After a few more minutes, Whumper rested their hand on Whumpee's head, "I hate how much I love you", Whumper sighed.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all. @villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived @sacredwrath @porschethemermaid @monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz @bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13 @notpeppermint @cyborg0109

#whump community #whumpblr #carewhumper #whump stuff #whump writing #whump ideas #whump #whumpee #whumper #whump scenario #caretaking #oc #whump story #soft whump #sick fic whump #sick whumpee #sick whump #lady whumper #mistress whumper

[allthewhumpygoodness]

The Reason (1 of2)

Hypothermia/snowstorm rescue, traumatized whumpee, "enemy" whumpee, eventual sickfic

@warmblanketwhump (I think you'll like this)

*

They were supposed to gather firewood.

B and the others asked nicely, but it hasn't been all that long since A was taken in by these people, and still every ask no matter how kind sounds like a command. One they'd better obey or else. They're not exactly used to any other kind of asking.

So ignoring the chills that have been at their back all day, they scuttle out of the little cottage and into the cold.

The woods loom before them, darker than ever in the clouded winter day. A sniffs and shivers and clutches their layers around them, but they gather as much wood as they can in the wheelbarrow they took. It occurs to them that they forgot gloves, and soon their fingers are pinched and freezing, and in between gathering they're frantically breathing on them and rubbing them together.

Deeper and deeper into the trees they go, startled by every distant crack of a twig or shuffling of a small animal. They aren't used to the woods. In their old group - they stiffen automatically at the memory, their breath coming short - they'd always remained at the campsite, usually on guard. Back there, orders were not to be defied, no matter how cold or dark it was.

When, after months of planning and debating and working themselves up, they finally managed to escape, they thought they wouldn't find anyone. Part of them had assumed they wouldn't make it anywhere, especially in the freezing landscape. And they'd accepted that.

But they had found someone. And now they owe those people, more than they've ever owed anybody.

Swifter than they'd thought possible, evening is upon them. The woods are almost too dark to see their hands in front of their eyes, the distant moonlight their only solace. Just a few hours outside have left them freezing, and they ache as though they've been bruised all over. They're exhausted, the deep cold adding another layer of weight to their bones. Shivering and staggering, they manage to drag the full wheelbarrow out towards the dim light at the edge of the trees.

A's head spins as they walk. Often they're out of breath, needing to stop and wheeze in the frigid winter air. A ragged, wet cough sparks in their chest, lighting a fire under their ribs. It hits them only then that their hands are trembling from exhaustion as much as the cold. Worse, it's started to snow.

In mere seconds, a wave of weariness and malaise takes over them and they're so shaky they have to lean against a tree to hold themselves up. Their knees feel like water, their bones suddenly weak as a newborn's. They close their eyes briefly, breathing heavily.

Eventually though, they have to go on. Bracing themselves against the tree trunk, they stagger upright and continue on through the pitch-dark woods. Everything around them seems to get further and further away, until they aren't sure they exist at all. Snowflakes spit out at them from the darkness without warning, heavy and icy and gathering all in their collar, half blinding them.

With hardly any sight, they might as well be some formless creature doomed to wander through darkness dragging a heavy burden behind them for all eternity...

They trudge. And trudge. Each step feels like the world's most difficult task, but they force themselves to keep putting one foot in front of the other. They have to get back to the cabin, have to bring home enough wood...

A is so cold it's hard to keep going for how badly they're shaking. And they're starting to remember things, things they'd rather not remember...their thoughts hover somewhere above the aching, trembling sack of their body, somewhere far away and warm...

They don't know where they're going.

*

One hour ago.

"Where are they?"

B has been pacing around the cabin, biting their fingernails to the quick. It's been hours, and still A hasn't returned with the wood they'd promised. And all the time the snow has worsened , the night growing colder and colder.

"I'm sure they'll be fine," says C, their eyes narrowing. "Surely they can handle themselves."

"Or," adds D from the corner, venom in their voice, "they've gone off back to their own people. You know it's true, B; they'll abandon us the first chance they get."

C shoots them a glare, but doesn't argue.

"Watch yourself, D," says B from the doorway. They open it a crack and see nothing but swirling snow. "We agreed to take them in, in spite of their history. You were part of that decision - you're not going back on it now."

D just grumbles in their corner, eyes on the hearth.

C finishes poking at the coals and comes over to B's side. They've never cared for A as much as B has, but that doesn't mean they wish them harm. Or so B hopes. "Nothing?"

B shakes their head. "Nothing. Nothing at all. Dammit, I should've gone with them..."

"Don't blame yourself. And don't worry. They might be on their way home right now."

B chews their knuckles. When A arrived at their hideout a month ago, a shaking, scared deserter of the very people B was rebelling against, they'd been the only one not suspicious at first. They'd met plenty of dishonest people in their life, heard plenty of lies - enough to know the truth when they saw it. And it was clear from the start that A was frightened, that they were genuinely trying to escape where they'd come from. So B had taken them under their wing, privately swearing not to let anything bad happen to them - at the hands of their old teammates or of B's own.

C had warmed up to them eventually, but remained cold enough to make A flinch at a glance from them. Their fond words were saved for the moments when they and B were alone together.

Now, the worry hits B suddenly that it may not have been enough. What if they decided it wasn't worth coming back? Not worth the concern and suspicion from D, and by extension C, not worth even their life they had only just retaken.

B doesn't believe it. But once the thought worms its way into their head, it's all they can hear about.

"I'm going to look for them," they tell C. Before they can protest, they've gathered their winter clothes and left the cabin, the wind slamming the door behind them.

A is their responsibility, and no one else's. So they'll be the one to find them.

*

The lash comes down on their back again, this time forcing a cry of pain from their lips.

A struggles to stay conscious through a world of pain, to not give in...

"That'll teach you," says a voice full of malice. "You'll do as you're told from now on, won't you? No more stalling or whining or disagreeing."

A only nods. They can't do anything else, it hurts to do anything else...

Do as you're told...

They're trying. They're trying so hard but it's so cold...B's voice hovers in their memory, becoming more and more like that of the cruel leaders of their old watch parties. Their feet are numb, their chest aching...when will this be over?

...There's a tunnel somewhere in front of them, pulling them forward and forward and forward, voices leering in at them from all sides...there's a scream that sounds to familiar, the rush of wings or wind or death itself speeding towards them...

Each breath hurts, each step hurts. All around them it's dark and too bright all at once, swirling...

And then they see a face they know, filled with and surrounded by blinding light, no longer crying in pain but smiling, waiting for them, arms outstretched...

A sobs, and falls into their arms.

*

When A falls into B's arms, it's sheer instinct that makes them grab hold of their trembling shoulders. They'd barely stepped out into the yard around the cabin when A's stumbling form had emerged from the darkness. The snow-covered body is limp against them now, sliding to the ground.

"Easy, A, easy," they say, alarmed at how weak their friend is. "You're back. You made it. Time to get you inside, and get you warm."

A clings to them with a shaking hand as they're all but dragged inside, the firewood forgotten. They're muttering something to themselves that B can't quite hear, shivering violently all over.

C meets their eye as soon as they get inside, their face switching from suspicion to concern at lightning speed. "What happened to them?"

"They're freezing - come help me, will you?"

C is there in seconds, taking A's other arm and helping B guide them over to the fire. "You poor thing," B hears them say in a low voice. "Hold on to me, that's it. You're almost there."

Together they wrangle A's near-frozen body to the hearth, quickly stripping them of their wet clothes, layer by layer. B hears C give a sharp gasp from A's other side and comes around immediately. They've removed A's snow-sodden shirt, and are staring at their back. A back crisscrossed with deep, scarred over cuts.

Their eyes meet B's. "Did you know?"

B shakes their head, numb. A, propped up between them, is still shaking intensely. "Let's focus on warmth for now."

B and C finish removing their wet clothes, replacing them with ones that are warm and dry. A is barely conscious, the wheeze in their breath and blueish hue to their lips and fingers stabbing worry through B's heart. C talks to them gently and soothingly the whole time, words they probably aren't even lucid enough to catch.

B glances over to D, still lurking in the corner but now on their feet, their eyes fixed on A's motionless form. Happy, are you?, they think, but don't say anything - tensions must stay low.

A isn't shivering anymore by the time they're wrapped up in as many blankets as B and C can find. Which is either a good sign or a very, very bad one. B's heart twinges again - the only time they've looked worse than they do now was when they first showed up on the cabin's doorstep, starving and scared... but not by much. Right now they look so small and vulnerable...if B had gone out to get wood without them, this might never have happened...

C has put a pot on the fire and is stirring some broth. B kneels, wrapping an arm around A's bundled shoulders and propping them up. They let out a faint moan in B's arms, their had flopping to B's chest.

"That's right, wake up for us just a bit. You need to eat something hot, and then you can rest, all right?"

A's eyelids flutter. C kneels at their side, slipping a spoonful of broth into their mouth. They cough slightly, but swallow. C manages to feed them a couple more spoonfulls before they curl back onto their side, shivering too hard to move.

C's fingers gently stroke the still-damp hair on A's forehead as they lie there trembling. "They're still frozen," they say softly, "the poor little thing, they were out there for hours...why didn't they come back once they'd gotten enough wood?"

B doesn't answer, but they know. Most of the others don't notice it, but B always sees the ways A tries to help out without being asked, the way they refuse second helpings of food - or sometimes first helpings - or how they downplay when they're too cold or too tired to work. As far as B knows, A wouldn't come home until they had a full wheelbarrow and full arms and pockets - even if it killed them.

"I'll watch them first," they say. "You get some rest."

C adjusts one of A's many blankets. "Wake me in a few hours. I'll come sit with them then."

Neither of them bother to ask if D's willing to take a watch too.

B settles in beside A, listening to their friend's footsteps dying away. D is going to bed too, but they can't help notice the conflicted look on their face before turning away from the fire. B has nothing to say to them - if they're feeling guilty, the more the better...

A shivers again, a crease appearing between their brows. B sighs and removes their own coat, draping it over their friend's half-frozen form. It's going to be a long watch.

#e's whump writings #whump #whump story

[whumperelle]

the water cure

(content warnings: torture, forced-feeding, noncon touch, restraints, general physical/psychological abuse, noncon master/slave dynamic)

water cure (torture): water cure is a form of torture in which the victim is forced to drink large quantities of water in a short time, resulting in gastric distension, water intoxication, and possibly death.

---

whumpee lay restrained on the table, their heart pounding in their chest, their mouth forcibly kept open by a device that tasted of rusted metal. whumper's trained hands were steady as they positioned a funnel over whumpee's mouth.

"this is necessary, slave. you need to learn," whumper said with a cold, clinical detachment. "when you ask for things you haven't earned, there are consequences."

whumpee had asked whumper for water earlier in the day. they didn't receive an answer - only a chuckle and a smirk that promised future consequences. now, whumpee's eyes widened in horror as whumper began to pour water down the funnel. they tried to swallow, to keep up with the relentless flow, but it was too much, too fast. their stomach began to distend painfully, their body's natural reflexes fighting against the unnatural influx of water.

they could hear whumper's voice, distant and distorted, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel. "you see, slave, this is how you learn obedience. you need to understand your place."

the pain was unbearable, the psychological torment even worse. whumpee felt like they were drowning, not just in the water but in the complete loss of their will, their autonomy.

whumpee's body shook with the effort to cope with the physical pain and humiliation. their eyes, red and wet with tears, conveyed a mixture of fear and remorse.

"i'm sorry, master," whumpee gasped out, their voice distorted by the device in their mouth. "i didn't mean to… I'm sorry."

whumper circled the table, looking down at whumpee with a twisted satisfaction. "you should be sorry. you brought this on yourself. you need to learn, slave. you need to understand who's in control here."

the cruelty in whumper's tone was unmistakable, their words designed to crush any remaining sense of self-worth in whumpee. each apology from whumpee seemed to fuel whumper's desire to break them further.

"you're nothing without me," whumper continued, their voice dripping with disdain. "remember this, slave. remember your place."

whumpee could do nothing but nod, their body and mind overwhelmed by the intensity of the ordeal. their apology was automatic, a conditioned response to the terror and pain inflicted upon them. in this moment, whumpee was lost in a haze of agony and despair, utterly at the mercy of the person who had claimed them as their own.

#whump #whumper #sadistic whumper #whump scenario #whump stuff #whumpblr #whump drabble #whump writing #whump scenes #conditioned whumpee #whump community #whump story #whumpee #captive whumpee #torture whump #content warning #physical whump #kidnapped whumpee #cruel whumper #restrained whumpee #whump blog #whump tropes #tbc possibly #whumperelle #water cure

[whumpasaurus101]

Nice and Easy

TO THE ANON WHOM I ADORE, i blame you FULLY for this /affectionate. bUT. i have a new story now. and it might acc end up having a plot unlike my other one LMFAO ENJOY Cw: drugging / creepy whumper / lmk if i missed anything

___

The mission was simple. Enter the party, get the information, and don't get caught.

The team went in staggered in twos, linking arms with girls the leader had hired.

“You're trembling,” One of the girls mumbled to Niko, who was linked with her arm. Niko rolled his eyes, huffing out a shaky breath, “It's barely been a minute, try being in my shoes.” The girl simply rolled her eyes and walked off, her heels clacking against the freshly polished marble floor.

Niko let out a sigh, making his way to the bar and slumping on a stool. He felt eyes on him instantly but tried to ignore it, drumming his fingers along the surface of the counter. A glass was slid over to him, catching his attention. He looked up to the grinning man beside him who slid his chair closer.

“Aren't you a pretty sight?” He cooed, eyes soaking Niko in as if he was his new obsession. Niko forced himself not to shrink back, taking a peanut from the bowl before him and laughed, “Is that your pick up line for every person you see?”

It was the target. The target was a 6ft 2 man, a slim figure who dressed neatly. The two sides of his head were shaved while the top half of his hair was swept into a neat bun. A stubble littered his face, well kept as it was trimmed close to his skin. His grin grew wider;

“Just for the cute ones,” He winked, making Niko inwardly cringe. It only got worse from there. He felt the man’s finger’s snake around his chin, grip tightening as he forced Niko to look at him. “Your eyes, like the ocean-”

“What is this, some sort of Shakespearean monologue?” Niko scoffed, trying to distract both himself and the other of how his cheeks flushed a crimson red. Get the information and get out.

“My name’s Martyn, and what is your name, buttercup?”

Even the name made Niko feel physically ill, but that's what he was looking for. 

“I don't think you’ve earned that yet,” Niko smirked, playing into the target’s games, and just as he thought it would, it worked.

Martyn pushed the drink closer to Niko with a chuckle, “Oh, you like being my mystery? Well don't you worry, butter cup, I love solving puzzles. Now, why don't you finish that drink and you and I can dance, hm?”

Niko’s eyes slowly dragged down to the beverage before him, roofied. How could he talk his way out of it- that seemed to always be his way out of things. He was never the strongest at fighting. Every training, the leader- his own brother had always given him shit for his bad mouth but he guessed that today it was going to come in handy.

He twirled in his chair, turning and facing the man fully, forcing a grin, “I’d like to save the drink for after we dance, wouldn't want to leave a guest parched on departure, hm?” He forced himself to stand up, holding out his hand as an invite to dance.

Martyn chuckled, taking Nikos hand and guided him to the open floor, “I must warn you,” He hummed, sliding an arm around his waist and drawing Niko in close, “I tend to take the lead in dance.”

Niko had to suppress his flinch, instantly wanting to free himself away from Martyn, gods, why was he sent on the creepy missions???

Martyn hummed along with the music closing his eyes as he gently danced with Niko. “I must say,” He sighed, “You are quite a dancer…” Niko smiled, “My grandma used to bring me dancing with her.” Martyn threw his head back with a laugh before suddenly his face turned cold. His grip on Niko’s wrists grew tighter and he forced the other closer to his chest, trapped.

“Cut the bullshit,” He snapped in a whispered sneer, “You better state who you are and who you work for before I lose my patience. And trust me buttercup,” He leant in close, his hot breath flush against Niko’s ear, “You don't want to see me angry.”

Niko felt his heart leap in his chest, oh shit, this was all he needed. He needed to check if the rest of teammates were safe, but there was no inconspicuous way to do so.

“Now, you and I are going to go upstairs and have a nice little chat, you are going to come with me willingly.”

Niko clenched his jaw, feeling his teeth on the verge of shattering, “And if I don't?”

A cruel grin spread across Martyn’s mouth, his eyes practically twinkling, “Oh, I was hoping you’d ask that! Have a look at the four corners of this room buttercup, you will see four separate armed men at each spot.”

Niko’s throat was dry, he tried to swallow over the lump in his throat as his eyes slowly roamed to the four corners. He wasn’t lying; at each spot there was a built figure, an earpiece in and a hand at the ready to draw their weapons.

“I, of course have more men here,” Martyn beamed, cutting through Niko’s thoughts as he suddenly pulled Niko flush to his chest, knuckles white as he tightened his grip on the other, “I just don’t think we’re that close yet.”

Niko started squirming against the grip, panic setting in. He whimpered as Martyn’s grip managed to grow even tighter than before, feeling the bruises form already.

“Ah ah ah, buttercup, you don't want to make a scene now, do you?”

Niko grit his teeth as he glared at the target, “You’ve got the wrong guy,” he growled, “Now let go of me before I shout for help.”He tried his best to stop dancing, only managing to trip himself up over Martyn’s feet. Martyn caught him before he fell; 

“Rusty with our dancing are we?” 

That was it, Niko had enough. His hand reached for his belt, where his pocket knife rested, but his wrist was quickly caught. “Oh honey,” Martyn whispered against Niko, making the other feel sick as he cringed back, “You just made things a whole lot worse for yourself.”

Martyn shoved Niko forward before snaking his arm along Niko’s waist, dragging him back towards the bar. He leant in close, whispering in his ear gently as they walked, “Now, since you decided to cause a scene, we’re going to sit at the bar. You are going to drink every last drop of that drink, the rest-” he let out a chuckle, “Well, buttercup, the rest is for me to know and you to find out!” 

He booped the other’s nose before more or less shoving Niko to the seat he was previously sitting at. Niko stumbled forwards, steadying himself with a hand on the bar’s table. A few seconds later, there was a hand on the small of his back, pushing him to sit.

“Drink.” 

The voice was completely different from how Martyn had spoken before. Niko’s eyes bored into the glass, feeling his chest tighten as a lump grew in his throat. He felt cornered, all of his training just chucked out of the window.

“A coke please.”

Niko’s head snapped up at the familiar voice, looking up to see Adrian, one of his teammates. He felt himself relax, it was nice to see a familiar face finally. Adrian will save him, he’ll be saved. Adrian turned to him with a smile, “Well, care for a dance, cutie?” 

Niko opened his mouth to answer but Martyn was quick to cut in, “Too late, buddy, this one’s mine.”

Adrian tilted his head back, grin on his face, “What a shame, I was really looking forward to-”

Niko slightly flinched as he felt Martyn’s arms sneak around his waist, pulling the other close to him, “Shame-” Martyn cut him off, “Move along, princess.”

Niko bit the inside of his cheek, looks like he wouldn't get to feel the safety of his own teammate until tonight. Adrian looked at Niko, hiding a sympathetic look as he nodded, “My apologies, if you change your mind, you come find me.”

Once Adrian left, the mood instantly turned cold. 

“Drink.”

Niko knew he had no other choice, his shaky hand reaching for his drink as he took his first sip, the Sprite bubbling against his mouth. 

“That's it, buttercup,” Martyn praised, carding his hand through the other’s hair as his gentle tone suddenly returned. Niko tried to place back down the glass but Martyn’s hand cupped the bottom of the glass, tilting it back up.

A tear slowly rolled down Niko’s cheek as he took another sip, finally giving into Martyn’s sick mind games. Martyn didn't let go of the glass until he had drank at least half of the Sprite. Niko coughed, letting out a quiet gasp as he looked at Martyn, tears brimming his eyes, “En-’nough… feel s’ck…”

Martyn pouted, cupping Niko’s face as he brushed his thumb along Niko’s cheekbone, swiping away a tear, “I know, buttercup, just half of it left and then you can rest, alright?”

Niko felt so weak, leaning into the touch as his eyelids began to droop. None of his thoughts were coherent, black spots filling his vision. He couldn't even refuse as Martyn brought the glass back to the other’s lips. Niko just began to drink, no fight left in him.There was a sand-like texture left in his mouth. 

Martyn chuckled, ruffling Niko’s hair, “Come on, buttercup, let’s let you rest hm? You must be exhausted!” 

Niko nodded, whimpering quietly as his body felt limp, as if he would collapse at any second. Martyn guided him to stand, guiding Niko’s arm to Martyn’s shoulder as Martyn held onto Niko by the waist, fully holding the figure, “Let’s get you some rest, dear, just nice and easy.”

Niko could barely see, leaning fully against Martyn. The last thing he could remember was being led into a room, a quiet and peaceful room and then suddenly everything went dark.

Nice and easy.

---

Taglist: (lmk if you wanna be added <3)

Next

#whump #whump story #whump series #nikos #martyn #cass #whumpee #whumper #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #drugging #whump community #whump writing #whump drabble #whumpblr #team whump #lee wrote something :o

[chaotic-orphan]

Hi, are you still continuing vendetta? It was really good, cant wait for the next part! no rush though :)

Vendetta — part six

Read part one here

Continued from here

I finally got around to finishing this!!!! Honestly, I had the plot, the ideas, everything sorted and then I blanked because — GUESS WHO DIDN’T CONSIDER HERO’S POWER?!?!!! It was me :] anyways! It is done!!!

*~*~*~*~*

Villain led Hero and Vigilante back out through the hole in the med bay towards the courtyard of the Guild where Hero had spent many hours training and sparring throughout their life. Superhero used to stand on the raised platform at the top of the courtyard so they could observe everyone’s progress during training. Now it was empty and it left a numb feeling in Hero’s chest.

Villain marched them up the platform steps and towards the back of it, to the Guild offices. Hero frowned. Why was Villain taking the time to ensure they weren’t seen? Hero could hear the commotion of Villains somewhere in and around the Guild, why not parade them through the masses?

Hero stepped closer to Vigilante when Villain opened the door for them and nodded at them to walk through.

“Stay close to me,” Vigilante whispered as they obeyed Villain’s order.

Hero didn’t need to be told twice. Hero didn’t know how many times they had been through here, how packed with people it used to be. People Hero knew. Now it was empty, it left a hole in Hero’s heart. Now they only had Vigilante to cling to for it to feel normal. They passed Doctor’s office, other Hero’s office and went straight for Superhero’s. Dread pooled in Hero’s gut as Villain knocked on the door.

“Enter,” a voice called from inside that wasn’t Superhero. Villain smiled at Hero, then opened the door. Villain pushed Vigilante ahead of them with a quick, hard shove. Vigilante stumbled forward, barely catching themselves. Villain didn’t give them a second before they delivered another hard shove that sent Vigilante to their knees in front of Superhero’s desk.

Except Superhero wasn’t sitting behind the desk.

Hero’s feet refused to move. They were rooted in place just inside the doorway because Villain blocked their only exit route behind them. They just stood in the doorway, mind going blank with horror as they faced Supervillain.

Supervillain sitting in Superhero’s chair. Where Superhero should be sitting, where they always sat but instead the cause of all Hero’s nightmares and grief occupied the spot instead.

This was the man that killed Doctor, that ordered for Doctor to die; for Hero to die. That forced Vigilante to kill that girl and Hero to fight more battles than they ever should have seen.

The cause for Hero’s entire world being on fire.

Supervillain smiled at Hero briefly, then his eyes went to Vigilante. The smile remained on his face but his eyes turned sharper, something cruel glinting in them. Something monstrous and hungry.

“Vigilante, so nice of you to drop by. I heard you joined the other side,” he said, his voice liquid smooth like mercury, both alluring and dangerous. There was a soft rumble to it in the back of his throat that made it that much more enticing, like you wanted to listen to him.

“I’m on Hero’s side,” Vigilante spat. “Not yours or the Heroes.”

“You put yourself in opposition to me, Vigilante. I don’t care for the reason, but,” Supervillain said, eyes flickering up to Hero who stood frozen at the door. “Fat lot of good it did you considering you’re both here now.”

Hero should do something. They should do… something! Think of a clever way out or something they could bargain with but their mind was blank, too busy sending racing thoughts zooming through their mind like shooting stars, too fast to catch, than having the ability to think properly. Everything in their chest seemed to lodge at the base of their throat and they were surprised they were still able to breathe normally.

“Yeah? Untie me and we’ll see how much good I can inflict.”

Supervillain laughed, Hero flinched at the sound. The reaction didn’t go unnoticed. Two ice coloured eyes found Hero’s and froze them in place even more so than before. Supervillain’s lips spread into a charming smile, exposing the contours of his face and jaw.

“Are you frightened, little Hero?” Supervillain asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at Hero. Vigilante glanced at Hero over their shoulder before getting to their feet and stepping in Supervillain’s view.

“Don’t look at them when I’m talking to you,” Vigilante spat. Supervillain let out a small huff of a laugh. As if Vigilante was a puppy puffing out it’s chest.

“I always admired your scrappy nature, Vigilante. It’s what endeared Villain to you in the first place.”

“Let me go and I’ll show you just how adorable I can be.”

“No need,” Supervillain said getting to his feet. The wooden legs of the chair scrapped against the wooden floor. Hero was too aware that their entire body had started to tremble during Vigilante’s and Supervillain’s chat.

They couldn’t move.

They couldn’t breathe.

They couldn’t…

stop…

shaking.

They should be right beside Vigilante defending them. Instead they stood useless. Watching everything as if it was on television… it seemed so unreal, so faraway. Their body felt so far from reach and they couldn’t order it to move, to react — to do anything but shake uselessly beside the door.

Supervillain walked around the desk and raised his hand to backhand Vigilante.

Hero’s heart lurched in their chest.

It all happened in the blink of an eye.

Supervillain’s arm twitched, the movement telling of his intention to hurt Vigilante. Vigilante hadn’t stepped back, instead they bared their teeth, a flash of white pulling their lips into a vicious grimace. Accepting their fate but it didn’t matter.

Suddenly Hero was the subject of two grinning eyes gleaming down at them. They didn’t know they had moved until their eyes registered that Supervillain now stood in front of them, smile as sharp as barbed wire, and hungrier than a starved lion’s.

Hero tightened their grip on Supervillain’s wrist in their steady hand, Vigilante pushed behind them protectively with their other.

“Ah,” Supervillain said softly. “There you are, little Hero.”

Hero’s heart crashed against their chest hard, more jarring then being stranded in the desert. Fear circled in their gut like a vulture waiting for its quarry to die.

“Here I am,” Hero replied, voice even and steady. How the fuck was their voice so even?! They didn’t want to question it in case the courage decided to abandon them. “That means you don’t lay a finger on Vigilante.”

Hero shoved Supervillain’s hand back towards his chest, who smiled at the audacity of them. Hero stood sturdier than a wall between Supervillain and Villain on one side, and Vigilante protected behind them.

Supervillain’s smile grew more into a grin as he looked down at Hero. “You really are as magnificent as they say.”

Hero tilted their head up. “Wish I could return the compliment.”

“So bold, Hero. I guess Superhero never thought to put manners on you.”

“They were too busy training me to beat Villains like you.”

A warm chest pressed against Hero’s back. Vigilante whispered a soft, exasperated: “Hero.”

Supervillain noticed the warning, eyes flashing back to Vigilante. “Hey,” Hero said, gaining Supervillain’s attention again. “You’re taking to me. Don’t look at Vigilante.”

“But they did such a good job of getting you here,” Supervillain purred. Cruel eyes met Hero’s, and Hero would be lying if they said their stomach didn’t twist into knots at the thought of Vigilante betraying them but they knew Vigilante would never do that. Supervillain was just trying to scare them.

“Nice try, maybe have Villain not tie them up next time and I’ll believe you.”

“Oh so cute. You think there will be a next time, for Vigilante, hmm?”

Hero froze at the question. They hadn’t ever considered being without Vigilante, not being able to see them. But surely… surely Supervillain couldn’t do that, could he?

Supervillain leaned down close to Hero, and Hero, thankfully didn’t flinch at the closeness. They did, however, flinch when Supervillain said: “gotcha” with a chilling smile.

Hero didn’t know Supervillain’s plan, their power, that’s something he had always kept close to the chest so Hero just assumed he was powerless but what if he wasn’t? What then? Supervillain didn’t make any information public or readily available, his closest circle were all loyal to a fault— so what… was his power? Did he have one? Was he just trying to scare Hero?

Supervillain straightened, all humour gone from his face.

“Thank you, Villain, for bringing them both to me. As a reward, I’ll let you decide what you want to do with Vigilante.”

“No,” Vigilante ground out. Hero was frozen, again. Useless! So useless. Their hands itched to reach for their swords but their swords were safely in the possession of Villain, far from Hero. If they moved to Villain first then that would leave Vigilante open for Supervillain and somehow Hero trusted Villain more than Supervillain.

Villain wasn’t going to kill Vigilante, they had said so!

Hero stood powerless in front of Supervillain.

“Thank you, Supervillain,” said Villain. Then he moved towards Vigilante and Hero twisted hands spread out but they couldn’t do anything if Supervillain and Villain attacked at once.

“Come on Hero,” said Villain with a knowing stare.

Hero just bared their teeth in reply. Then there was a hand on Hero’s shoulder and one on their wrist, twisting Hero’s arm up their back. Hero gasped as they felt the familiar wash of ice through their veins when their ability was subduing another powered individual’s.

So Supervillain did have an ability.

“Hah,” Supervillain breathed behind Hero, pausing for a moment. “I knew it. No wonder Superhero kept you so close.”

Hero didn’t reply. They just slammed their head backwards. It stopped before impact and Hero could feel Villain’s power holding them. Shit. They needed Supervillain to stop touching them or they were going to lose Vigilante.

Villain was already behind Vigilante their hand on the back of Vigilante’s neck. Villain tilted their head at Supervillain.

“Do you want their swords?”

“Yeah,” Supervillain said behind Hero and Hero shot backwards. Supervillain quickly subduing them again by pushing their wrist further up their back until Hero cried out. “Leave them anywhere. That will be all. Thank you, Villain.”

“Hero!” Vigilante cried, struggling against Villain’s hold until they went still. Vigilante’s eyes met Hero’s with a determined desperation in them and Hero shook their head as tears sprung to their eyes. “We’ll get out of this, okay? Somehow. I’ll find you again!”

“I love you,” Hero whispered, not caring that the villains could hear them. Villain started to drag Vigilante from the office, steering him half with his power and half with his hands.

“I’ll find you Hero!” Vigilante yelled. “I love you, Hero. I’ll always—”

Hero started crying freely when Villain took Vigilante’s voice. Supervillain’s grip tightened on Hero’s wrist at the quiet hitches in Hero’s breath that was all too telling, but they didn’t care. They didn’t care if Supervillain knew they were crying or not, this wasn’t supposed to end like this!

The Villains weren’t supposed to win! And where the fuck was Superhero in all this? Why weren’t they stopping Supervillain?

Hero froze when a hand went to the top of their hair. Fingers lacing through the strands and running down, before starting from the top again.

“Sssh, sh, shh like Hero,” said Supervillain, while they pet Hero like a dog. Was he trying to be soothing or did he know this was creepy?! “Everything will be over soon enough. All this fighting. You’ll see how pointless it was to go against me in the first place.”

Hero shuddered at his voice, the certainty of his words but they were too tired to fight back anymore. Their heart still aching for Vigilante and the terror of not knowing where they were or what was being done to them.

Supervillain’s next words chilled Hero to the bone. “I think it’s time to rally the troops, don’t you?”

*~*~*~*~*

The Orphanage roll-call (tag-list lmk if you want to be added or removed <3): @micechomper @aarika-merrill

#Vendetta #Vendetta series #writblr #hero villain writing #hero villain snippet #hero villain story #villain #hero #writing #whump writing #orphan writing #orphan #whump fic #whump story #hero whumpee #supervillain whumper #evil whumper #intelligent whumper #intelligent villain #vigilante x hero #hero x vigilante #hero x villain #heroes and villains #hero and villain #heroes vs villains war #war whump #war time whump #my writing #whump #emotional whump

[jakkon-and-rose-topic]

MASTER POST - Chronological Order :]

Here's my new master post!

My main blog is @the-ellia-west

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Characters

Jakkon (Jak, Horns) - A Male Satyr and certified Whumpee who's been through hell and back and isn't done suffering. Very much an Alcoholic. 31 in human years.

Rosenia (Rose, Petals) - A Female Rose-themed Fae and Jak's sister-in-law. She's tired and stressed, but she loves Jak a lot as a brother and will do anything to help him even though he doesn’t want her to. 29 in Human years.

Eveny (Evie, Ev) - A Female Lilac-themed Fae Who was 2 years younger than Rose. She was very adorable and sweet, Married to Jak before she died at about 26 in human years.

Rune (Runie) - Eveny and Jak's son. He was about 3 or 4 in human years when he died and was a very sweet, innocent little baby.

Phennim (Finn) - A Male Harpy who was Jak's former best friend before the fire that killed Eveny, where Finn Saved Jak and Jak doesn't want anything to do with him anymore. Nemesis/Rival relationship.

Morena - An elven witch who is kind and formal to everyone, trying to help wherever she can with her magic and potions. She has a mutual respect with Jak, and a major crush on Finn.

Silas - A Sentient Statue with Major Daddy (Patron God) issues who just wants everyone to know they are loved.

Wildrun (Wild, Wil) - A Phantom/Mist Noble's son, who really dislikes his adoptive abusive family and HATES Jak's guts. He just wants to have fun and be free.

Pherun - Baby (Satyr who looks Like Jak's son)

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PLEASE LEAVE COMMENTS

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Scenes (More to be added) - They hop all around the timeline

Love - Jak and Eveny Just after their Wedding

Grief - Jak after Eveny's death

Gone - Jak and Rose at Eveny's Funeral

Forget - Jak's intro to Alchoholism After TRAUMA

Empty - Is Life worth living anymore?

History - This one takes place on a mundane evening before the inciting incident

Arena - Jak and Rose's intro from someone else's POV

Dogs - A scene I need to edit, which shows Jak's terror of Dogs

Rivalry - Jak and Wild's Rivalry

Swimming - Jak and Silas bond over their mutual inability to swim

Defense - Jak kills a guy

Gift - Rose & Jak Wholesome Moment

Eynalis - The party

Letting go - Jak Tells Rose To forget him

Argument - Tension

Withdrawals - *Jazz hands* The Poll winner, here, ya sick degenerates.

(Other Stuff)

A Memory

What Used to Be

Rune's Fate

Eveny's Fate

Jak's Fate (?)

Fae and Nonhuman Details

How everybody met

Jak's Psychology #1

Jak's Psychology #2

Jak being a Dick Compilation

Incredibly Accurate Picrew of the main 2

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Go follow @corinneglass @i-hate-happy-endings @fantasy-things-and-such @cybercelestian @pastellbg @nkikio @darkandstormydolls @aalinaaaaaa @thelazywitchphotographer

#fiction writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing #writing community #whump scenario #whump stuff #whump series #whump story #whump snippet #whump torture #whump writing #whumpblr #whump prompt #whump community #defiant whumpee #caretaker #whump drabble #whump tropes #because whump #whump blog #whump masterlist #whump masterpost #whump wip #whumpee and caretaker #whump things #whump #whumplr #whump list

[littleperilstories]

whump prompt: your usually-so-tough protagonist feels the burn of ropes around their arms, the scrape of bark against their back. The sticky tightness of dried blood itches down the side of their face and neck. The sound of footsteps is getting closer, approaching light growing ever brighter.

#whump prompt #whump prompts #whump writing #whump #whumpblr #whump blog #whump story #whump fiction #whump scenario #lps-prompts

[torture-themed]

To my beloved enjoyers of alien pet whump (which seems to be gaining some traction):

I have a movie recommendation for you!

Fantastic Planet is an animated film from 1973 about "oms" being kept as pets by the giant Traags. An om manages to escape his captivity with a traag learning device, and brings it to the feral oms. Together, they change history.

It's a wonderfully weird movie full of stunning visuals and fantastic whump. Dehumanization, poison gas, the works. I'd highly recommend giving it a watch!

(I genuinely have no clue how to describe these last two or I'd add image descriptions. I'm sorry!)

#fantastic planet #whump #alien whump #pet whump #whump movie #whump art #whump story

[whumpsoda]

What would happen if the Sleepy Thrall got sick and needed medical attention?

-- @oliversrarebooks

WOHEO Masterlist So here’s like. My fifth? writing post of the past week… I’m just on the writing grind :3

cw: sickfic, pet whump, multiple whumpers & whumpees, vampire whumpers, captivity hypnotised/brainwashed whumpees

———————————————————————

“Mal…ak?” 

Nevan delicately poked his head inside the dimly lit room, the tall, wooden door creaking along. 

His vision took a moment to settle into the darkness as he looked toward the thrall’s shared mattress placed beside the vampire’s luxurious bed, fully expecting Malak to be seated atop it. 

Strangely, he was not.

“Malak?” Nevan called again softly, turning around the room until his gaze landed on the corner farthest from said mattress.

Huddled up to the wall, curled into a tight ball of his large frame Malak sniveled, nose dribbling with snot and eyes rung sickly red. He rubbed his face with his palms, shielding his vision from bright light sneaking in from the open door. “Oh.”

Nevan carefully stepped inside, shutting the door slowly behind him until it clicked. Arms outstretched in front of him he knelt before the ill thrall. “Malak..? Are you… alright?” He questioned, voice low and gravely, trying purposely to not make enough noise that may elicit or increase a headache. 

“Um…” Malak started, peeking the tiniest bit out from his legs. His eyes were wide and shaky, body trembling. “Head… feels weeeird… don’t like.” He mumbled quietly, brows furrowing in muddled confusion. “‘M sorry…”

Nevan placed a hand to his knee, rubbing lightly over his skin with a soft thumb. “It’s fine. Yes… you… you should get back in bed…” he urged, guiding Malak's gaze to the tussled mattress he had wandered out of.

“Nngh…! Noooo… no bed, please…” Malak whined, pushing his frame further into the wall behind him. At least, as much farther as he could, already shoved deep against it. 

Nevan sighed. “You… you like it here?” 

Malak only nodded weakly in response, his head swaying just the slightest bit from dizziness. Nevan lifted a thermometer between two fingers. “Okay… uh, can… Master Darius told me to take your temperature… again… can, can I?”

For a beat Malak considered allowing him to do so, before giving another slight nod of approval. “Umm… shh… sure…”

“Thank you. Say ah.”

The other man obliged, welcoming the thermometer under his outstretched tongue and accepting it by the grip of his lips. The two waited in silence, Nevan still brushing the other man’s skin as a means of comfort.

“Mm… one oh one.” Nevan read the numbers, disapprovingly. 

“I’m sorry… sorryyyy… sorry…” Malak slumped back once again, head lolling onto his buckled shoulders. “Head weird… Nevan.” He whispered, shutting his eyes tight.

Nevan wanted to help him, he really did. He didn’t remember ever having been sick himself, but from the look of how hard it hit Malak, he could almost understand exactly how gross he felt. “No… I’m… I’m sorry.” How could he possibly help? How disgustingly useless.

Malak clawed feebly at his own skin and flesh, wriggling and fidgeting restlessly in his spot and portraying his own agony. “Don’t… don’t, ummm, like it… bad. Bad.” He whined, gratingly, the sound scratching against Nevan’s eardrums.

“Well… you’re, you’re talking a lot. That’s nice.”

“Feels weird… bad…”

Nevan frowned. “Well Master had to, to make you more… awake ‘n stuff so we can help you. That’s good… right?”

Adrastus had been practically forced to ease up on Malak’s enthrallment due to his ill state, him having been doing overall far worse with it as intense as normal. Plus, they required him to be able to communicate his pain in order to aid in his recovery. It was a condition he was, as expected, still adjusting to.

“Good… goood…” Malak mimicked. Nevan grinned, just a little bit from hearing the other man still utilizing one of his common habits even when dreadfully sick.

Before Nevan could open his lips to speak again, the door was nuged open so Adrastus could enter. Their arms were full with further bedding, elegantly lush pillows and blankets gathered for their favorite thrall. “Oh, dear, I’m back.” They bumbled in, heading straight to the thrall’s bed before they took notice of its absence of a body.

The pair followed as their face flipped to further distress in a flash, searching quick for their thrall, before landing on the two. “Nevan!” They exclaimed, recoiling an inch backwards. “You mustn’t be in here, get, get! You might catch it! I know how much you care about your little friend, but we just can’t risk you getting sick as well.”

Adrastus slipped between the thralls as Nevan stood to his feet, heading to leave as the vampire had instructed, but was held back by Malak gripping the bottom of his dress with a deadly grip.

“Goodness, how are you doing, baby? Tell me how you feel. What do you need? I can get you anything.” The vampire fussed, tucking their thrall’s sweat coated curls behind his ears and out of the way of his eyes.

Malak mewled, the edge of his words shaky and cracked as the urge to cry was swelling. “Bad… ickyyy…”

“Yes, love, I know, I know. What’s bad?” They pressed, urgently and needily.

He thought for a moment, processing their wants and questions, scouring for an acceptable answer. “Mmmngh… head… my, mmn, nose…”

“Alright, what can I get you? Umm… medicine? I’ll see if we have any more blankets? Please, baby, I’ll get you anything.” Their tone was growing ever so more distressed by the second, desperate for a solution as they nodded along with his soft but pained mumbles. The edge of their words was tainted with what almost seemed like fear. 

Nevan watched their conversation unfold, stomach churning with sick and worry filled unease. He’d never seen Adrastus less than elegantly put together, never without their dignified, strict composure. The sight of them carefully trying to keep up their facade rattled anxiety in his bones.

“Want… want…” Malak gazed gently upward, meeting the other thrall with cloudy eyes that mirrored the still hazy fog of his mind. “Nevaaannnn… Nevaaaannn…!” He continued tugging at the dress flowing from Nevan’s waist, jerking him harder and harder as Nevan struggled against the much stronger man.

“No, no. No Nevan.” Their tone was devoid of anger, rather spewing with urgency. “Nevan. Leave.”

“Nooo! Nevaaann…! Need!”

His head was spinning, being called every which way. He didn’t know what to do, who’s orders to follow. His face was tainted with the scald of flattery, poorly hiding his excitement of someone, especially Malak, expressing a need of him. Him. Though, he knew such defiance was not acceptable.

“No, sweet, Master is right here. Nevan can’t help you, but master can. You could get Nevan sick.” Adrastus corrected with a strained smile, trying their very best to remain calm. “And, you like master more, don’t you? Master’s right here.”

Malak whined again, looking nearly dejected, making Nevan’s heart only hurt further with vigorous compassion. “Sorry… sorry… need, ummm, Nev… annn…”

“No! You are sick! You’re going to get him sick!” Their voice continued rising with stinging heat, shouting at their own thrall while still in a short vicinity. They had dropped any and all lingering peace in their mind, and Nevan jumped back, cowering weakly.

They never yelled at Malak. Never. Both thralls were understandably stuck in place with surprise, salty tears instinctively welling in Malak’s eyes. Nevan wished he could’ve done something, anything, but Adrastus' burning stare was well enough to keep him frozen in place.

“‘M sorry… sorry-”

“Ad, it’s okay, it’s just a fever.” Darius piped up from the back, soft and calm yet unexpected. The three huddled together whipped around to face him, Adrastus’ expression boiling with flushed anger and embarrassment. “He’ll probably get it anyway and they’ll both be fine.”

The other vampire shook their head frantically, a sight that only put Nevan more on edge. “No! N- no, he, he can’t get sick! We can’t let him get sick,

Hester can’t be sick.”

The air flipped the switch to silence, save for their quick and exhausted breaths. Nevan stared dumbly, all he really could do paralyzed by fear. He’d learned full well what happened when a vampire was upset.

Nevan had… never heard such a name before. Of course, not that he could recall, but still. It was sudden, and even Adrastus appeared disturbed that they had let it slip.

“Dear,” Darius interrupted, his voice eerily soothing and kind. He’d never spoken that way. At least not to Nevan, which wasn’t at all surprising. “You need to step away.” 

“No, no, I-”

“Ad.” Their lips zipped to a close. “I need you to take a minute.” He looked to his own thrall, who shrunk back with festering fear. “Nevan, take them to the kitchen.”

Malak erupted, moaning in aching agony. “Nooo! Noooo… I need Master! Need… Nevan…”

Adrastus instinctively curled their hands over that of Malak’s, gaze full of unbridled abd desperate saccharine. “But- but what about-”

“Malak will be fine. I’ll stay with him.”

“But, the doctor-”

“Baby, the doctor said the same. He just needs rest and the meds she gave us.”

“Masterrr…!” Malak called again, his words cut apart by thick whimpers and snivels. The sound of his suffering carved deep marks in Nevan’s ears, and even more so Adrastus’.

“But…” they paused, begrudgingly stepping back from their upset thrall. Nevan looked to the other man with sorry eyes as Malak’s face twisted in disappointment as the two headed to leave. “Can I come back…?”

“Of course, Ad. I just need you to calm down, okay?” Darius placed a hand on each shoulder, tenderly guiding them to the door before Malak could continue his outbursts and convince them to stay. “You can take a couple sips from Nevan if you would like.”

“O- okay. Okay. But I’ll be right back to your side, baby. I’ll make sure Nevan is all nice and, and safe and away from any diseases.”

Nevan gave one last small wave to his friend before leaving, Adrastus gripping and squeezing his forearm, biting their lip with unusual nervousness. He tried not to pay too much attention to it. “Thank you, master.”

Though, as the two walked out to the kitchen and he kneeled beside his master, neck craned to show off his throat, even with his brain dazing out from their strong aura, he couldn’t help but dwell on the name they’d previously let slip instead of his.

Just who was Hester?

———————————————————————

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#asks :) #Oliversrarebooks #we only have each other #Malak oc #Nevan oc #Adrastus oc #Darius oc #Whump writing #my writing #whump #whumpblr #whump story #sickfic #illness #sick #sick whump #Pet whump #vampire #vampire whumper #thrall whumpee

[little-peril-stories]

The Queen of Lies: Trust and Treachery

Story Intro | Content Warnings | Mood Board | Vibey Song Lyrics | Ao3

Contents: police, lady whump (sort of, ish, not exactly but ????), guy whump, guns (drawn but not fired)

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Word count: 4100 || Approx reading time: 17 mins

Trust and Treachery

Teaser: “I’m serious. They’re still looking for her. Isn’t anyone going to talk about that? Or am I the only one who’s worried?”

The tales were told over endless cups of tea, as night fell and deepened to the blues and purples of midnight: Will’s time in prison, including details Bree herself had not heard and which made her eyes fill with tears; Bree’s side of the story, and how she had run away from Baden and taken Will with her; Colette’s summary of her time spent in a “safe place” about which she gave no further information; and Jamie Wardrew’s account of shutting down all Iustitia aecum operations and hiding out with the mostly silent other man, who was called Geoff. They had reunited with Colette once word got out that a thief had mysteriously escaped from prison—and posters with Will’s face on them appeared all over the city.

“You idiots should have skipped town fucking weeks ago,” Will said more than once, but there was no vehemence in his words. In fact, he was almost glowing. For most of the conversation, he twitched, bounced, and shifted in his seat, incapable of sitting still—except for his hand, which, despite how often he pulled it away to talk animatedly, always came back to rest upon Bree’s.

Now, his thumb stroked the back of her hand in a gentle, comforting rhythm. “You doing all right?” he murmured in her ear when the others were distracted.

Bree hummed a confirmation that she was, but exhaustion settled over her, brought on by the hours of talking and digging up of painful memories.

Oh—and the residual worries, of course, about when the inner circle of Iustitia aecum would come to their senses and throw her out. After all, what kind of woman would marry a man like Baden Hatchett? And how could she ever be trusted?

“You sure you’re okay?” Will asked.

“I’m just tired,” she told him, and he squeezed her hand.

“Don’t look so worried,” he said. “Everything’s okay.”

But alongside the joy of the reunion, a heaviness clung to the air, and when she glanced at the others, she found that they would not meet her gaze.

***

The next morning, waking in a bed that seemed emptier and colder than it should have, Bree found that Will was not beside her. She could hear him, though—one of several voices that drifted in from the kitchen, hushed and serious.

Frowning, she sat up, trying to catch what was being whispered into the stillness of the early morning.

“Gotta decide what to…”

“If we start up again…”

Bree slipped out of the bed, stifling a gasp at the bite of the cold floor against her bare feet. At the door, which Will had left ajar—had he snuck out, trying not to wake her?—she paused, nudging it slightly to let in more sound.

“I’m serious. They’re still looking for her. Isn’t anyone going to talk about that? Or am I the only one who’s worried?”

Dread, barbed and brutal, tore through Bree’s chest. They weren’t merely talking about IA business. They were talking about her.

“Colette,” Will’s voice said stiffly, his earlier elation gone, “she doesn’t want to go b—”

“Stop twisting my words. I didn’t say she wants to go back. But if they find her, they find us. You can’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind, too.”

“Okay, fine, it did, but—”

Bree closed her eyes. Was that the reason he’d held out so long before giving his name? Fear that her very presence would lead Baden right to him—and that she would buckle under pressure and reveal his name to the entire constabulary? Destroy everything he’d suffered so keenly to conceal with a single witless utterance?

“I mean,” Colette went on, “does anyone else really believe that mad constable’s just going to give up? He’s insane.”

Silence met her words.

“I didn’t think so.” How could she sound so fearless? How could her words be so calm, so steeped in cool, unshakeable logic? “I think you’d all better listen to me about this. Because I get it, we all want to get back to normal, get back to business, but as long as she’s around—”

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor made Bree jump. Furiously, Will snapped, “Don’t you even fucking think about saying what you’re about to say.”

“God, will you let me finish? I’m not arguing that we ditch her somewhere. She’s lovely. God knows how someone like her ended up with someone like him. And—just wait, for heaven’s sake! I’m not a monster. But we need a plan, and we need to make it now, because Hatchett wants you and her and as long as that’s true, we’re all in trouble.”

“She wouldn’t fuck us over like th—”

“Are you even listening? That’s not what I—”

Jamie’s quiet voice cut in. “Okay. Both of you. Shut up for a second.”

“Alpha, you know I’m right.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Will said, his voice acidic. Something warm flickered in Bree’s chest. Even with his brother speaking now, he was standing up for her. “We know. You’re always right. You’re so fucking smart—”

“Will!” Jamie snapped. “Shut the fuck up. Listen, for once.”

“You’re taking her side?”

“I’m not taking sides,” Jamie said tightly. “She—”

Too loudly—enough that if Bree hadn’t already been awake, she would have been jolted out of a dead sleep—Will said, “If you say she has to go, we’re about to have a big problem.”

“Just—”

“She has nowhere else to go,” he said. “Her parents are dead, too. And she can’t go back to Hatchett. She can’t. I’ll fucking die before I let that happen.”

Barely audible, some of the coldness faded from her voice, Colette said, “Oh, Will.”

Bree pressed her hands to her mouth, her heart trying to tear itself free of her very chest.

“And I—I—”

Neither his brother nor his friend interrupted, yet Will’s voice trailed off, the thought unfinished.

Geoff grunted, “You what?”

“I just can’t do that to her, all right?”

Did he mean it? Every word? He did, didn’t he? He wouldn’t let her go back to Baden, even if it meant going against the family he’d only just found again.

“Okay,” Jamie said. A mere breath after him, Colette said the same. “Okay. It’s not going to come to that. But let’s make a contingency plan, all right?”

Will mumbled, “The fuck is a contingency?”

“A just-in-case plan,” Colette said quietly.

“Just in case of what?”

Bree’s throat tightened again as Colette responded, “Just in case things go sideways. In case he catches up with her.” She paused. “With us.”

Jamie, from the sound of it, continued, but Bree silently pushed the door closed again and backed away on trembling legs. Her heart pounded as she went over the conversation—the argument—the inner circle of Iustitia aecum had just had about her.

For a few painful seconds, tears prickled behind her eyes. No matter where she went, she was never good enough. Breanna certainly hadn’t been. Now, it seemed that Bree was not, either—not for her own failings, but for the peril she brought in her wake.

No.

She swallowed her tears and took a breath. So Colette and Jamie were wary. Weren’t they right to be? But Colette had said it herself—it wasn’t Bree she didn’t trust. It was Baden.

But Will trusted her. Even if the others were reserving their confidence for now, he had faith in her. And he was willing to go against the others to prove it.

So, there was only one thing to do. She was going to have to prove it, too. That she belonged here. The she was one of them. That she deserved every ounce of that hard-won faith.

***

Of course, proving herself to IA was easier said than done. Bree opted not to mention what she had overheard, and Will didn’t bring it up, either. In this, she was almost relieved; he was spared the unenviable task of admitting that he’d been talking about her when he thought she couldn’t hear, and she was spared the indignity of facing everyone else’s mistrust head-on. No, she decided, it was much better to carry on as if she were none the wiser, and do what she could to weave herself into the delicate IA web.

Evenings, she determined promptly, provided ripe opportunity to find common ground with the others—particularly Colette and Jamie, who seemed to be the ones who had filled the bookshelves until they bowed in the middle. It was when the fire burned hottest and brightest; when everyone gathered without speaking of gangs or thievery; when she could read amid the soothing sound of crackling embers. The threadbare chairs did not provide nearly enough room for everyone to fit, but sitting on the floor with her book made Bree feel like a child again. Will, pressed against her side, didn’t seem to mind, either, and that made it all the sweeter.

Tonight, in a move that made everyone else’s jaws drop, Will was thumbing through Romeo and Juliet, which Bree had finished reading. He wasn’t reading it in earnest, however.

“The hell does this all mean?” he asked, cackling to himself. “You trying to tell me any of this makes sense to you?”

Bree blinked herself out of her current book and looked up to meet his amused gaze and unimpressed smirk. “It’s an old story. Once you know what to expect, it makes sense.”

But Will just shook his head, dictating lines he found perplexing or droll. “‘Such comfort as do lusty young men feel…’” He burst into a laugh and, reading on, found another that had him howling. “‘An open-arse, thou a poperin pear…’ What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You would find all the rude bits,” said Colette with a roll of her eyes.

“‘Some consequence,’” he went on, ignoring her save for a grin, “‘yet hanging in the stars, shall bitterly begin…’ Well, he sure sounds happy, doesn’t he? ‘Give me my Romeo, and when I shall die, take him and cut him out in little stars…’ No one else thinks that’s a weird thing to want? No? Just me? All right. ‘I have an ill-divining soul…’” He scoffed and pushed it away. “Why can’t he just write like a normal person?”

Shaking her head, Colette asked wryly, “That’s your expert literary opinion, is it?”

“Pretty sure you’d find most reasonable people would agree with me.”

“I rather think you’d find,” she shot back, “that most intelligent people would not.”

Will snatched a cushion right out from behind Jamie’s back, eliciting a surprised yelp, and threw it at her head, howling with laughter when it struck its target squarely.

And grunting a loud, “Ow!” when she hurled it back at him.

“Leave her alone,” Bree said, laughing, laying a hand on his arm to prevent him from launching another attack. “Maybe you should try reading it. Who knows? You might end up liking it.” She paused. “Though it is very sad.”

“Right. It’d take me a month just to get through the first chapter.”

“It has acts and scenes,” Bree said, pointing to the heading on the page. “Not chapters.”

“See? I’m already hopeless.” But he didn’t look hopeless or even terribly annoyed as he closed the book and peeked over at Bree’s. “Can’t believe you finished it in a few days. What are you reading now?”

Bree showed him the cover, and Colette, peering at it, too, piped up again. “Oh, you found my Ovid.” She heaved a long, dramatic sigh. “It’s nice to have another intellectual around for once.”

Biting her lip, Bree tried not to look too satisfied with this remark.

Will brandished the cushion again, prompting his brother to take it out of his hands and return it to its previous place, supporting his back. With his physical ammunition confiscated, Will merely said, “You’re fucking hilarious, Colette.”

“I just finished the story of Orpheus and Eurydice,” Bree said to her, talking over him.

Geoff and Jamie had been watching in silence, the former quite apathetic toward the topic of fine literature and the latter baffled that Will was engaging with it at all. Now, his long-suffering-elder-brother expression changed from faint amusement to outright hilarity when Will demanded with a groan, “What the hell kind of names are those, now?”

Rubbing his face, Jamie answered, “It’s a myth, Will. Ancient Greek.” He looked over at Bree almost apologetically. “I really tried, you know. He used to sneak away instead of going to school. You think this guy ever did anything he was told?”

Throwing his brother an obscene gesture, Will just asked, “What’s it about?”

Bree was about to answer, but Colette said, utterly straight-faced, “It’s about an idiot who can’t follow simple instructions.”

The group burst into gleeful laughter, celebrating how Will had set himself up for the joke. Bree took his hand.

“No, it isn’t,” she told him. “It’s about how love is sometimes stronger than reason.”

With another vulgar gesture at the others, Will leaned toward her and laid a kiss right on her lips. Bree blushed, but there were no huffs of disapproval, suspicious glares, or scandalized gasps. Instead, teasing whoops spread through the room.

“You give her one of those bite marks in front of me, and I’ll smother you in your sleep,” Colette said primly as the titters faded, and Jamie choked on his tea.

“Oh, shut up,” Will said, and even though even his face flooded as red as Bree’s, he nearly fell to the floor with laughter.

Maybe, Bree thought with a smile, winning over Iustitia aecum wouldn’t be as difficult as she thought.

***

“You know, I’ve never seen him care about any of Colette’s books before.”

Bree jumped and stifled a squeak at the sudden voice behind her. She’d offered to fetch some water from the well, and she’d been quietly humming to herself—certainly not expecting anyone to overhear her less-than-impressive musical talents—so the appearance of Will’s brother was not one she was prepared for.

“Sorry,” Jamie said, smiling a little ruefully upon seeing that she was startled. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“It’s all right.” She resisted the urge to press a hand against her pounding heart, figuring she already seemed jumpy enough to his eyes—jumpy, silly, and in over her head. “I didn’t hear you walking up.”

Jamie’s laugh, to her ears, was sardonic and abrupt—almost uncomfortable. “Well. We’ve had some practice in being stealthy over the years.” He nodded at her arm, free of bandages now but still marred by an unsightly scab she suspected might leave a scar. “You need some help?”

 “Did Will send you?” she asked charily.

“No, actually.” He took the full bucket from her hand and replaced it with the empty one he had brought with him. “We can share the job. I’ll carry two back, you carry one.”

“Thank you,” she said, uncertain of where to go from there as she filled the last bucket. Was he going to be the one to confront her? Bring up Colette’s fears? Demand proof of her loyalty to the Iustitia aecum creed?

“Will didn’t send me after you,” Jamie said. “I wanted to say…” A strange look crossed his face—a happy one, but mixed with sadness, too, and perhaps even a touch of bemusement. “I’ve never heard Will…I don’t know, ask questions like that before. About books, I mean. Like he actually cared.”

A warm glow blossomed in Bree’s chest. “Really?”

“Definitely not.” He leaned against the side of the well, eyes fixed on the cloudy sky. “You know, I was… When we didn’t know what had happened to him, all I could do was hope we’d find him again. And I knew if we did, he might be different.” He laughed. “I didn’t think that this was the kind of different we’d be getting.”

Bree’s eyes burned with uninvited but admittedly gratified—and somewhat triumphant—tears. “Is that…” She swallowed. “That’s a good thing, right?”

He glanced at her now, seeming to notice the shine in her eyes, though he did not mention it. “I think so.”

Bree turned her face away for a moment to blink away the sting.

“You look familiar.”

Almost automatically, she said, “Well, maybe you saw me about town with Baden,” although now that he mentioned it, there was something about his face, hailing from a time long ago—more than just his striking resemblance to Will.

He clenched his jaw. “I can tell you for sure that I have never once been close enough to that fucker at any moment to see your face that well.” The flat hatred in his voice made a shiver run down her spine.

“Um…” Eager to move on from that thought, Bree said, “Perhaps before that? School, maybe?”

But he shook his head—the age difference was a bit too big, they determined, and he had likely already been working by the time she was in the schoolhouse, too poor for a governess.

“My maiden name is Cooper,” she said, thinking back and racking her brain for the answer, and as his expression changed to astonishment, the image struck her, too: a quiet boy with threadbare clothes, wind-chapped cheeks, and tired eyes—a boy she’d never seen again after a fateful winter’s day.

Or so she’d thought.

“James,” she gasped at the same time he said, “Cooper.”

“You worked for us!”

“Your dad’s a huge prick.”

Well, there was no denying that. “He was. He’s dead now.” She gazed at the man in front of her. Was it really him? The boy from that day?

The day her father had turned out all the servants, every single one—and one boy had fought back.

She hadn’t thought of him in years. It was painful to remember, those early days of her father’s broken business, his rage, his humiliation. That day in particular was one she preferred not to recall. All those people, thrown out in the bitter winter, hopeless and weeping and cold...

But a boy called James had tried so hard to stand up for them, shouting and railing, demanding some semblance of justice for the servants who were losing their livelihoods. As he always had, to everything and everyone, Silas Cooper had responded with violence—beat him and hurled him out, right into a snowdrift.

“He was horrible to you,” she whispered. “I’m—I’m so sorry—”

“You ran out,” he said, and she nodded. Bree had raced outside, determined to stay her father’s hand, and wound up with a handprint on her cheek. “I remember that. You…” He paused. “Thanks.”

Reeling at the revelation that her story and Will’s had been threaded together for so much longer than either of them had known, she pushed up her sleeves, close to sweating from exertion and awe. “I…I can’t believe it.”

“No,” Jamie said, equally stunned. “It’s a damn small world.”

They stared at one another a few moments more, Bree fitting his careworn face over the time-misted features of a sixteen-year-old boy with fire in his eyes—the same fire she had seen blazing in Will’s so many times before.

Suddenly, those eyes widened.

“Breanna?”

It took Bree a moment to realize that it was not Jamie calling to her—nor would that be the name he would use even if he was.

Gasping, Bree spun around, letting the bucket slip from her hands and spilling frigid water over her boots.

“Curt,” she whispered. The wonder of the moment, blazing hot and beautiful, vanished; every ounce of it sucked away, leaving nothing behind but cold, scouring dread.

He flew forward, so fast she only managed a panicked step backwards before he reached her. “It’s you.” Hands on her arms, pinching tightly. Eyes wide. Voice rasping. “God, Breanna—” Grip tight. Too tight. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Please let go,” she said, half-dizzy. Frantic thoughts spilled through her mind, melting into the noisy, discordant symphony of Curt’s voice, rapid hoofbeats, and distant thunder. No. This can’t be. “I’m…”

But he was talking, clinging tight, talking, talking, talking, gesturing to the officers behind him. “Quick! Go get…” Not happening. This couldn’t be real. But he was holding her hand, lifting it, examining the scab on her arm. “Breanna, what happened to you?”

“Nothing!” He can’t be here. She tried to wrench herself free. She had to get free. Where was he sending that other constable? “Curt, you’re hurting me.”

Where’s Will?

What if—

“Don’t move!”

Bree froze her struggles, but the order was not for her.

“Who are you?” Curt demanded, his eyes on Jamie. “Breanna, is he with—is he with them? Is he keeping you here against your will?”

“No!” Bree tried again to pull away. Still, he wouldn’t let go. Why wouldn’t he let her go? “Curt, leave him. Please. He didn’t—”

“You’re hurt.” Curt’s voice was dark, his gaze flicking between her arm and Jamie’s frozen form. “That miserable bastard hurt you. The one who got out.”

“No,” she said. “Listen, please, Curt, he didn’t. He didn’t. Let me go, and—and—leave him, Curt, please. Please—”

But Curt was only half-listening, it seemed; he was no longer even looking at her, and when he spoke, he merely repeated, “He didn’t let you go and leave.” With his gaze trained on Jamie’s, he stared, slow recognition leaching into his face. Realizing he had seen those features before. Realizing who else that ruddy hair and those strangely hued eyes belonged to.

Forming his own twisted narrative from the face he saw before him and the cry for help he thought he’d heard.

He cursed softly, and Bree cried his name, desperate for him to look anywhere but at Jamie’s face.

“What did they do to you?” he hissed.

“Nothing!”

“You’re lying to me,” said Curt furiously. “Again. After everything. Aren’t you? That bastard is here somewhere. I know he is. Who is that—his bloody twin?” Finally, he looked back at her. “Where is he?”

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, don’t…

If she looked back at the townhouse, if she gave away the headquarters of Iustitia aecum, then it was all over—when it had barely even begun.

Don’t look back.

But she did.

She did, just in time to see a figure with red-brown hair fling open the door and start to run before a pair of brawny arms grabbed hold and yanked him out of sight.

Two furiously screamed names escaped before Will’s voice faded into strangled silence.

“Bree! Jamie! N—”

“That way,” Curt said, following her gaze. Following Will’s cry. One of his fellow constables hastened toward the townhouse, boots clicking maddeningly along the street.

And then he jerked his head toward Jamie and said, “Arrest him.”

Something shattered.

Perhaps it was the sound of Will’s voice being cut off. Perhaps it was the sight of that constable bolting toward the townhouse, all because her treacherous eyes could not do as they were told. Perhaps it was the cold fury in Curtis Lenton’s voice. Perhaps it was the way Jamie Wardrew did not move a muscle.

“No!” She thrashed against Curt’s grasp, and in his shock, he let go. “Curt, for the love of god, don’t do this, please!”

She made it three steps away from him before he captured her again.

“Why are you fighting me?” he asked as she pounded her fists against him. “Breanna—please! I’m here to help you! I’m going to get you away from these people!”

Tears, heavier and hotter and more painful than any she had ever shed in her life, blurred her vision. Her limbs trembled and, after a moment, gave out, for Curt did not listen. And he did not let go.

“Hey!”

All the officers froze.

“There’s no one there,” Jamie said. His words were calm. He had not run, and he still did not, even as the third officer approached him with his revolver drawn. But his arms, held in the air, trembled.

For one of them had the sleeve pulled up—baring the Iustitia aecum sigil for the constables to see.

“You’re too late,” Jamie said. “They’re already gone. You won’t find anyone else.”

Lies, Bree thought dizzily. A distraction to confuse them? Slow them down?

“Who are you?” Curt snarled again. “Where is the thief who escaped?” To the one he’d sent to the townhouse, he repeated the order to go, and the man obeyed.

“Forget him. He’s gone.” Jamie looked away from Curt’s glare to stare into the barrel of the other constable’s gun. His gaze met Bree’s for only an instant when the man reached him and wrenched his hands behind his back. “I’m the one who’s in charge of Iustitia aecum. I’m the one you want.”

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