heartinthehospital

[heartinthehospital]

sometimes is you and your two loyal readers against the world

#love you guys

[heartinthehospital]

Does Lara know any of the people who watch her live feeds? Or are they all anonymous

she doesn't know them and she plans to keep it that way! the reason she shares what she does with an audience is because she likes the admiration and how hopeless it makes her victims, but deep down, she kind of resents the idea that most of her audience is men who enjoy the fact she's torturing these victims more than the torture itself.

she'll still pretend like there's this sense of community with her audience on-camera though! anything to scare elijah.

#elijah and lara #asks

[heartinthehospital]

if i wrote an au where lara retrains guard dog!elijah when i barely have any of my main story published would i be in the wrong

#it’d be fun i think #elijah would make such a good dog #well trained too #elijah and lara

[heartinthehospital]

punishment

hunting season masterlist

content: non-explicit noncon touch, male whumpee, female whumper, big whumpee, small whumper, defiant whumpee, intimate whumper, electrocution

Lara has grown familiar with Elijah’s body in the past few days, but it’s in this moment that she’s come to fully appreciate it. 

Arms folded, she stares down at him, unconscious and strapped to the table beneath her. The driver’s license in his wallet says he’s six foot four, and Lara can believe it. It’s not so much Elijah’s tallness that impresses her as it is his broadness. Gently, she brings her hand to his torso, and brushes her fingers against the muscle there.

There’s something offensively masculine about his physicality—when he’s conscious, he knows how much space he occupies, and he feels no shame about it. Lara wouldn’t be surprised if he took steroids of any kind, if she’s being perfectly honest with herself. It would explain his temper. 

With a glance towards the camera recording the two of them, she drops her hand back to her side. Lara tries not to touch Elijah unless it’s with a weapon in hand or threat in mind. Maybe the way she brushed against him wasn’t explicitly sexual, but she’d hate to have the audience even consider the idea.

Everything that happens between her and Elijah, on-camera, is about the violence she can inflict. It’s about him. Anything else—beyond a playful comment or two—would be an insertion of herself, and that’s the opposite of what she wants.

Even if the sound Elijah makes when he stirs makes Lara suppress a sigh of her own.

“You blacked out,” she says lightly as she picks up the Taser she had briefly discarded. Elijah’s eyelashes flutter as he comes to, chest slowly rising and falling with strained breaths. His wrists pull against the leather restraints, as if he forgot they existed. “And we’re not done yet.” 

“Whatever.” Elijah’s voice is hoarse. Sweat drips down his torso, seeping into the waistband of his thin cotton pants. “I’m not saying sorry.” The look in his eyes as he raises his jaw might resemble something like defiance if it wasn’t for the fresh scream she ripped from his throat moments ago.

“If you say so,” Lara accepts with a light shrug, flicking the on-switch so the Taser crackles with electricity. It hasn’t been long, but she already has a few favorite places to electrocute. Maybe she’ll discover a few more.

“I’m not sorry,” Elijah insists. What he’s meant to apologize for is the first time Lara undid his restraints without her hunting knife in hand, when he grabbed her by the throat and slammed her to the floor. If only he knew he wouldn’t get very far. “You can’t lock me up in a basement and expect me to not want to leave. Or try to leave.”

“I’m pretty sure I can, Eli.” Lara raises her eyebrows, not bothering to hide the smile tugging at her lips. It’s a disappointment that he can't talk back so much when he screams. 

“You’re—”

Elijah finishes his sentence with a scream he fails to stifle, head thrown back in pain as Lara jams the Taser into his ribcage. She holds it there, watching Elijah’s body twist with the little give he’s allowed, his eyes squeezed shut as he grits his teeth so his pain escapes in a groan instead. She lets go and Elijah gasps.

“What?” Lara leans down so she can hear him better. Strands of her blonde hair fall onto Elijah’s neck as she meets his gaze expectantly. She can hear the saliva in his mouth as he wets his lips, trying to rid any weakness from his voice before he speaks again. 

“Fuck y—”

Lara shocks him in the same place. This time, Elijah slams his head against the back of the table as his body seizes, the tendons in his neck throbbing. While his jaw is clenched, his upper lip lifts in a soundless snarl, revealing the white of his canines in a deeply animalistic way. When she lets go again, his body slumps as if he could sink deeper into the table.

“I didn’t really get that,” she frowns.

Elijah doesn’t make eye contact. Lara brings the Taser, void of electricity, up his trembling body to nudge his cheek. Finally, he glares up at her from under dark lashes, silent. Fool me twice, or whatever they say. 

“You’re doing this to yourself. How hard is it to say two words?” Lara nudges him again. When Elijah keeps his mouth shut, she begins to trail the Taser back down. “I could do this for hours.”

“Fuck you.” In a voice shaking as much as he is, Elijah finishes his insult from earlier. If Lara was any further from him, she might not have heard it, but she appreciates his effort to appear impenetrable when she knows he’s the exact opposite. It’s endearing.

Not as endearing as the color that creeps into his face when she presses the Taser to his chest, firmly against his nipple, but it’s close. With the Taser in hand, Lara doesn’t mind pushing her own boundaries if it causes Elijah more pain. It doesn’t matter if she takes more enjoyment in it than she lets on.

“Is that all you have to say?” 

Elijah swallows, hard. “You wanna hear it again?”

Lara doesn’t look at Elijah’s face when he screams. It’s the pool of blood beginning to form underneath his head, as he slams it back again, that she watches. She wonders if it’ll be dry by the time they’re done.

tags: @warm-my-whumpee-heart

#tried lara’s perspective for fun #took me so long to write this because i’ve had no inspiration recently #male whumpee #female whumper #lady whumper #big whumpee #small whumper #defiant whumpee #intimate whumper #long term captivity #whump stuff #whump writing #whump fic #whump #elijah king #lara callaway

[heartinthehospital]

no comment

If youre being tortured you might as well get turned on by it

#elijah and lara

[heartinthehospital]

literally lara to elijah in not that hot

Oh no we're not having sex i invited you here to slit your throat. Yeah that's what the restraints are for. Yeah

#elijah and lara

[heartinthehospital]

idea of lara threatening to skin Elijah like he's a deer she shot, trailing the knife where she'd slice :) he's a fellow hunter so maybe it's time he understood the prey's perspective

deer in headlights

hunting season masterlist

content: male whumpee, female whumper, big whumpee, small whumper, defiant whumpee, intimate whumper, captivity, threats of violence

Lara glides her hunting knife down Elijah’s throat to his sternum. “I’d start here.”

Maybe if she hadn’t pulled his shirt up, Elijah’s reaction wouldn’t be so obvious. As it is, every single contraction of his lungs is visible in the movement of his chest. When she taps the tip of the knife lightly against his sternum, his taut muscles reveal the silhouette of his ribcage, and the transparency of his emotions leaves him feeling more naked than if he had been stripped completely.

Elijah can’t see the expression on Lara’s face when she’s standing behind him, but he can hear the smile in her voice. “If you want me to kill you so bad, it’s only fair you know how I’d do it. You can’t get shy now.”

“You’d slit my throat and leave me to bleed out. I get it,” he says through gritted teeth.

Lara pauses. “Aren’t you a hunter?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You should know that you’re supposed to use every part of the animal. Why would I slit your throat when there’s so much of you to cut into?” This time, when Elijah breathes, Lara finds the indentations of his ribcage with her knife and presses the flat of the blade to his abdomen. In the few seconds that pass, he tries to find something to say, but between the throbbing wound in his thigh and the path of Lara’s knife against his skin, he isn’t able to focus on much else. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Have you ever skinned a deer?” Lara’s fingers fall to his side opposite where her knife is, and his body involuntarily shudders at the freezing touch. Elijah thought any cold would be welcomed, considering he’s been covered in a thin sheen of sweat since he woke up, but his entire abdomen tenses when she wraps her hand around him. “I haven’t, but I think it’d be similar to what I’d do with you. It’s satisfying to tear through muscle. And you have a lot of it.”

Lara brings her knife up to where his shirt is rolled, then back down to his waist, the same way you lazily pet a dog by stroking its fur, and when Elijah squirms, he wonders if he’s always been this ticklish or if Lara’s knife brings it out of him.

“I wouldn’t touch your face,” she continues. “Not until the end. I’ve cut out tongues when I didn’t want to hear screaming, but not yours. I want to see if you can shatter a couple of teeth clenching your jaw hard enough to not make a sound.” She uses the knife to swipe away a few strands of Elijah’s hair in his eyes. “The rest of your face speaks for itself.”

“So you think I’m handsome.” Lara laughs. Elijah feels a twinge of satisfaction, then an immediate wave of disgust.

“I’m not the only one. Do you know the things they ask me?” Lara still hasn’t explained who they are, even though it’s been days, but Elijah doesn’t have to ask. Finally, he acknowledges the camera, with nothing more than a glare.

��To skin me alive, I guess.” There’s no humor in his voice this time. That’s what Lara means to do if she kills him. There’s nothing Elijah can laugh at about that.

“More than that,” she replies. “It’s what you sound like when you scream.” Lara drops her hand from his abdomen to the fresh stitches on his thigh, and his face twists in pain even as she lets go. “What you sound like when you cry. What you sound like when you come.” She tilts her head with a thoughtful expression, twirling her knife incredibly close to his face. “What you sound like when you don’t.”

There’s no question about whether or not Elijah’s disgust is visible, because Lara continues with a renewed liveliness. “It’s not that they don’t want to see your insides. I want to see your insides. It’s that you’d be wasted if that’s all I did with you. You’re the type to go down kicking and screaming, Eli.”

Lara tosses her knife haphazardly to the floor, and walks around Elijah so she stands in front of him. The rise and fall of his chest is unmistakable as she leans in towards him.

“I want to see how long it takes you to go down.”

Elijah blinks beneath his dark lashes, his voice unsteady. “And if I don’t?”

“I told you.” Lara smiles, and taps his sternum.

“I’ll start right here.”

#incorporated this into the main story because i liked the idea #not sure if i did it justice #but there’ll be plenty of time for elijah to get hurt either way #don’t worry #male whumpee #female whumper #big whumpee #small whumper #defiant whumpee #intimate whumper #long term captivity #whump stuff #whump fic #elijah king #lara callaway

[heartinthehospital]

how have i hit writer’s block when i’ve only written two chapters this isn’t funny

#it’s probably because of my workload #because i have so many ideas #but i can’t find the time or energy to write #if you guys have any requests #or asks #send them #i’d love the motivation

[heartinthehospital]

pull up his shirt play with his wounds

#yeah #maybe inflict more #elijah and lara

[heartinthehospital]

hunting season masterlist

Elijah wanted to go hunting. Lara did too. 

When Elijah gets mugged at a gas station on his way to his friends’ cabin, he doesn't expect anybody to help. Out of kindness, Lara brings him back to her place so he can spend the night until he's ready to get back on the road. Except she has a few ulterior motives, which Elijah finds out shortly after he wakes up in her basement— and begs her to kill him before she can do anything worse.

How do you scare someone that wants to die? You keep them alive as long as possible. And if Lara gets attached to him in the long-run, it’s not her fault. She can’t help if she likes the way he screams.

chapters not that hot deer in headlights punishment until failure

requests and asks are open! i would love to talk about this story or either of these characters.

#whump masterlist #male whumpee #female whumper #lady whumper #big whumpee #small whumper #defiant whumpee #possessive whumper #long term captivity #whump stuff #elijah king #lara callaway

[heartinthehospital]

not that hot

hunting season masterlist

content: male whumpee, female whumper, big whumpee, small whumper, defiant whumpee, possessive whumper, kidnapping, violence

When Elijah wakes up, Lara is nowhere to be seen. 

Well, he can’t see much of anything. Elijah blinks a few more times to confirm, but he’s sure he’s blindfolded. And tied to a chair. His back muscles tense through his t-shirt as he measures how much movement his arms are allowed when they’re duct-taped behind him. It’s none. The same goes for the duct tape that secures Elijah’s ankles to the chair legs. Slowly, he tries to recollect the events of the last few hours.

There was the gas station. The couple of guys who mugged him. Elijah shifts his weight and winces when he can feel the bruises on his ribcage. There are other injuries, but this has to be the worst of them. Elijah knows what broken ribs felt like, and this isn’t that, but damn if it doesn’t hurt the same. 

There was Lara. The offer to clean him up back at her place. Elijah wonders if his car is still at the gas station and frowns. Everything he packed for the hunting trip was inside, and if getting mugged was any sign, that couldn’t be a safe place to be parked. 

Elijah told Lara about the hunting trip, when she asked why he looked like he was ready to tour Afghanistan. She laughed, and he began to question if it was the alcohol they were sharing or if she did really look that pretty when she smiled. He must’ve asked out loud, because the next thing he remembers, she was on top of—

Elijah hears footsteps. Thank God. 

With a swift tug of the cloth around his eyes, Lara is standing in front of him again. 

“Are you awake?”

Absent-mindedly, Elijah decides that she really is that pretty. There’s no alcohol in his system to convince him otherwise, but as soon as he realizes that, he wonders why he isn’t hungover. There’s no way he doesn’t have a throbbing headache if he blacked out hours ago.

“Eli?” That’s not important.

“My bad,” he clears his throat. “I’m awake.”

Lara steps back, still in the same clothes. Elijah can’t help but imagine how the two of them look. Him, dressed in what looks like military uniform. Her, barely clothed in a wife beater and daisy dukes. If either of them were to be tied up, he wouldn’t expect it to be him.

She’s searching in his face for something, but Elijah doesn’t know what. The look in her ice-blue eyes is unreadable. It's like she's waiting for something. Behind his back, he gently grazes his bloodied knuckles with his fingertips, expecting her to speak first. It doesn’t look like she’s going to.

“Do you want me to be scared?” Elijah offers. 

Suddenly, Lara’s expression turns into blatant confusion.  “What?” 

“I mean, do you want me to be scared?” That’s what he just said. Elijah clears his throat and tries to explain himself. “You know, what we’re doing here. I’m tied up. You’re not. Should I be scared?”

The expression on Lara’s face doesn’t change. Somehow, the conversation brings him back to high school, when everyone stared blankly at him whenever he spoke because his accent was too thick to understand. Elijah feels as stupid as he did then. What was Lara not understanding?

“Okay,” he tries again. “Last thing I remember, we were on your couch together, and I guess I blacked out when we— it’s not important. Now I’m in your basement. You didn’t ask if I was okay with this, which I don’t mind, because I am, but I don’t really do this. I don’t know if I’m supposed to ask if you want me to be scared, or if I should be scared as soon as you walk in. I don’t know how we’d even have sex if I’m tied up like this, honestly.”

Something like recognition clicks in Lara’s face, but she doesn’t say anything. Elijah begins to consider he might not watch enough porn. That’s not true, and he knows it, but no matter how he racks his brain to think of every video he’s watched, he can’t think of one that lets him know what he’s supposed to do. “If you didn’t want me to be this confused, you could’ve told me what you wanted. Maybe it would ruin your fantasy, but it would help. Like I said, I don’t do this.”

Finally, Lara steps back. She looks him up-and-down, her features softening.

“Oh my God, you’re stupid.” The sentence is said with such incredible tenderness, Elijah takes a few moments to register it as an insult. 

“Hey, what the fuck?” 

“You’re not scared?” Lara reaches out a hand to brush against Elijah’s bruised jaw, and he stiffens at the physical contact. “You’re tied to a chair in my basement, and you’re not scared?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.” Elijah shakes his head. “You know what? Nevermind. Thanks for helping me and everything, but I don’t think this is working. I wish it did—” his eyes rake over her body in the same way she did his “—but it’s not.” 

“You’re so stupid,” Lara repeats herself in that same voice, her fingertips still soft against his skin. Elijah might find it attractive if she wasn’t insulting him. She turns her head towards a blinking red light in the corner of the room that he hadn’t noticed. “None of them have ever done that. They always wake up asking me what happened, and he just explained it to himself."

Elijah looks at the camera. “Are you fucking recording this?” 

The dread finally begins to set in, and he struggles against his restraints. The duct tape didn’t feel this tight when he woke up. 

“I’m leaving,” he insists, glaring at Lara. In the back of his mind, he imagines himself telling this story to his friends when he arrives at their cabin. That’s all this is going to be. One of his stories. 

“Go ahead.”

“Fuck you.”

Lara smiles. “Do you always curse this much when you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared. I’m pissed that my fucking pit-stop is going to cost me hours and I’m not even getting laid. Which doesn’t matter because—” he continues to struggle without success “—you’re not that hot anyways.” 

When Lara turns around and walks away, he twists his neck to try and follow where she’s going. “I’m going to get out of this chair, and I swear to God, I’m going to kill you if you don’t help,” he raises his voice to make sure she can hear, his stomach twisting itself into knots. If he strains, he can hear her rummaging through something. “I mean, I’m going to fucking rip you apart. I’ll—”

When Lara returns, Elijah’s voice dies in his throat. He doesn’t know whether it’s the ten-inch hunting knife in her hands or the calmness in her expression that silences him, but either way, his blood runs cold. With every step she takes towards him, his arms twist against the duct tape with more urgency, but he can’t get free.

“What are you going to do to me?” Lara tilts her head innocently, weapon still in hand. 

Elijah stops moving. 

Even when she turns back towards the camera and goes, “I can’t believe that’s all it took to get him quiet,” he doesn’t ask who the fuck she’s talking to. He doesn’t make a sound. Not when Lara steps closer to him, not when she brings the tip of the blade to his Adam’s apple, and not when she smiles at the slow roll of his throat underneath the pressure. Not a goddamn sound.

She puts her mouth against his ear, and when she speaks, her warm breath grazes his skin. “Are you scared yet?” This time, her voice is barely above a murmur. This question’s for Elijah, not the camera. His mouth is suddenly and totally dry.

“Kill me quick.” The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop himself, but he doesn’t regret them. It’s a hunting knife. The images of what she could do with it flash in his mind one after the other. If all she does is kill him, here and now, it would be merciful. Maybe that makes Elijah a coward, but nobody’s going to know it. 

Twenty-three years. He could be satisfied with twenty-three years.

“That’s not what I asked.” Lara’s knife presses deeper to his throat, and a pinprick of blood drips down his neck. Elijah strains his peripheral vision trying to catch a glimpse of Lara’s expression. Nothing. 

“I’m fucking terrified,” he whispers. It doesn’t matter what his last words are. Nobody’s around to hear them.

When Lara pulls away, knife and all, Elijah doesn’t shut his eyes like he wants to. In a few minutes, he’ll be dead, and maybe he wants Lara to be the last thing he sees. He doesn’t know. Elijah’s about to die, and he doesn’t know anything. 

Lara slams the hunting knife right between his legs into the chair. 

“Good answer,” she hums, looking back over her shoulder to the camera. “I think this one is going to be fun.” Elijah’s entire body shudders involuntarily. 

“I’m serious,” his voice shakes. “Kill me. Quick.” Twenty-three years.

Lara looks back to the sweaty, trembling mess she’s made of him and wrenches the hunting knife out from the chair with little more than a glance in his direction.

“Sorry, I missed.” With an alarming swiftness, she plunges the knife back into his thigh. The scream that rips out from Elijah’s throat drowns out her voice as she steps back to admire her work.

"Like I said. Fun."

#lara's right elijah's stupid #but i love him anyways #she does too #male whumpee #female whumper #lady whumper #big whumpee #small whumper #defiant whumpee #possessive whumper #long term captivity #whump stuff #whump ideas #whump scenario #whump writing #whump fic #whump #elijah king #lara callaway

[heartinthehospital]

masked man getting whumped… hndndghhjk

#tfw you can’t find any content for a niche #so you have to create it yourself

[heartinthehospital]

about me

hi whumpblr, i'm ari! i decided it's finally time i post my own whump content since i've been writing whump for awhile. my niche is male whumpee and female whumper because i don't see enough of it but i read almost anything.

i tag all of my content, especially anything nsft or nsfw. if there's any tags i don't use that you'd like me to, just let me know.

favorite tropes - captivity - dehumanization - touch starvation - extreme violence - manhandling - forced intimacy - emotional whump - defiant whumpee - intimate whumper

i take requests, so don't be afraid to ask me to write anything you have in mind! maybe i'll write it, maybe i won't, but i'll always appreciate the ask.

right now, i'm writing about my two favorite characters (elijah and lara). their masterlist is linked here.

#whump #whumpblr #whump intro #whump introduction #whump blog #whump community #male whumpee #female whumper

[heartinthehospital]

until failure

hunting season masterlist

content: male whumpee, female whumper, big whumpee, small whumper, defiant whumpee, possessive whumper, long-term captivity, violence

“I love this view.”

Elijah doesn’t look at Lara when she speaks. The same way he doesn’t look at the blinking red light of the camera in the corner of the room or think about the audience behind it. Instead, he concentrates on the coolness of the basement floor against his palms, and the growing tension in his muscles. Sweat trickles down his temple, but he grits his teeth and lowers his head until his forehead almost touches the floor.

If he shuts his eyes, he can pretend he’s back at his dorm, trying to get in a workout before he passes out on his bed because he’s exhausted by his evening classes. He’s not here. Lara’s not here. 

Except she is. He knows it because he can hear every one of her footsteps echo on the basement floor as she approaches him. It bothers Elijah that Lara doesn’t even try to speak to him again. She knows she doesn’t have to. He’ll give in first like he always does. 

“What?” Elijah turns his head to glare up at her, his jaw tensed. The tremor in his voice from exertion makes him want to break his own nose.

Lara twists her face into a half-smile, half-pout. “Nothing. Like I said, I just love this view.” 

Elijah bites the inside of his cheek, torn between whether or not he should stop. Finally, he looks back down at the floor, intent on ignoring Lara altogether. Strands of his dark hair stick to his damp forehead, and he briefly supports himself with one arm as he brushes them away. That is, until Lara crouches next to him and wraps her hand around his bicep.

“This is what you do when I’m not around?” Wisps of blonde hair not entwined in her two braids fall into her face as she tilts her head. The question is asked innocently enough, but Elijah knows better than to assume Lara’s playful tone means anything less than dangerous for him. “You know, you get so angry when I hurt you, but here you are, doing it yourself. You put on a good show.” 

“Fuck you, bitch.” 

The backhand he expects doesn’t happen. 

“Like I said.” Lara lets go of his bicep with a smile. “How many of these do you think you can do? Fifty?” She glances down at him with a nod.

“How many will it take for you to leave me alone?” In his mind, Elijah tries to guess how many he has left in him. His muscles haven’t forgotten that he’s kept his form this entire conversation, but he doesn’t think Lara will understand if he explains what exercising until failure means.

“Let’s say that’s fifty.” She sits down only a foot or two away from him and glances towards the camera, amused. 

There’s a split second Elijah opens his mouth to say something, but he decides against it. Instead, he tenses his jaw and lowers himself to the floor again. 

With every push-up he completes, he can feel Lara’s eyes locked onto him. It’s completely silent besides his labored breathing, and Elijah gets the sense it’s not just the view she loves. The first ten are easy, and even though the next ten are slower, his form is perfect. The aching in his muscles is pain he's used to.

It’s when he gets to thirty that he falters. Elijah struggles to maintain the rigidity in his arms, and he knows he needs to rest. With every passing second he doesn’t lower himself to the floor, Lara knows too.

“I’m taking a break,” he says, but he doesn’t move. He knows better than that, even when his arms begin to tremble.

Lara furrows her eyebrows like she’s genuinely confused. “When did I say you could do that?” She goes so far as to look at the camera, as if the audience could agree with her. 

“I’ve done more than fifty while I’ve been down here." A drop of sweat falls off his forehead and onto the tile. Willing himself to stop trembling, he shifts his weight from one arm to the other. His muscles are on fire.

“I didn’t watch all fifty.”  

“Fine, then—“ Elijah lets himself give up with a grunt, dropping his body to the floor and rolling over so he stares at Lara on his back. “—don’t leave me alone. Fuck if I care.” He spits out the words with the little energy he has left before he squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing his sweat-drenched face with both hands. 

“Eli.” Lara’s voice barely registers. Elijah means what he said. So what he can’t get a moment alone? It’s stupid anyways, what she asked him. He’d rather take whatever beating she has in mind. Elijah opens his eyes, but Lara isn’t sitting across from him anymore. 

That’s when the steel-toed boot connects with his side. 

If Elijah thought the air had already been exhausted from his lungs, he was fucking wrong. He can barely scramble to his feet before Lara delivers another swift kick to his abdomen, this time with enough force to make him gag. And another, so that he stumbles onto his hands and knees, his hand clamped tightly over his mouth so he doesn’t vomit. 

“You just can’t behave, can you?” Lara’s expression is almost sympathetic as she crouches down and grabs Elijah by his hair, wrenching his face towards her. He drops his hand to his side, forcing the bile down his throat.

“Not really.” He smiles weakly. “I'm a problem child. Corporal punishment doesn’t work on me. ” His voice is hoarse.

Lara’s hand releases his hair before she rises to her feet. And her steel-toed boot slams into his face.

Blood gushes from Elijah’s nose and drips down his chin, but he can’t wipe it away before she kicks him again, and he’s laid out flat on his back gasping for air. With every kick, his muscles spasm, urging him to shield himself from the next blow, but he doesn’t. This is the beating he expected, and he’ll take it like a man.

Except there’s nothing manly about the way Elijah turns his head to cough up his own blood. He doesn’t know when Lara stops, but he knows that when he presses his warm cheek to the cool tile, she doesn’t continue. Finally, he allows himself to curl up, and he grits his teeth with the effort it takes to not make a sound when he does it. Shirt plastered to his skin with sweat, Elijah uses the back of his hand to wipe away most of the blood from his face. 

“All I wanted to do was watch you sweat. Not bleed.” Lara nudges his shoulder with her boot. “Eli, has nobody ever told you to choose your battles?” 

“I choose all of them.” Elijah coughs, and when Lara says nothing, he thinks she might not have heard him at all.

“I can tell.” Lara brings her boot down to the side of his torso, where she gently nudges him again, and his face twists in pain. “If you didn’t argue with me, I wouldn’t have done this.” She puts her weight onto the boot. No amount of willpower could stifle the low groan that escapes Elijah’s throat. “I hope it was worth it. Twenty isn’t so bad, anyways.” 

Elijah lifts his head to meet Lara’s gaze. “What?”

“You did thirty push-ups.”

The color drains from his face. “I can’t—“

“You won the argument, Eli. You got your break. Now you can finish the fifty.” She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear with a shrug. 

“You said I couldn’t— I couldn’t take a break. I can’t do twenty push-ups like this.”

“I don’t remember saying that.” The glimmer in her eyes is unmistakable. “I asked when I said you could take a break.” 

“You know what the fuck you meant.” His voice cracks.

Lara’s expression brightens when he curses. “Are you choosing another one of your battles, Eli? I know you won the last argument, but I think I might win this one.”

Somehow, Elijah’s breathing is the only sound in the room again.

Until he gets to his knees and drops his palms to the floor, trembling through the extraordinary discomfort it takes to get himself into proper form. Then, it’s the sound of Lara’s voice as he lowers his forehead to the tile one more time.

“Let me know if you need another break.”

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