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whump-and-other-misfortunes · 3 months

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Whumpuary 2024 Day 14

14. (Jan 27-28) Flinching / Breakdown / Sleep Deprivation

cw past trauma, implied noncon/torture, hurt/comfort, aftermath of whump

“You’re slower than usual,” Hero teased when they pinned Villain to the wall. “Lost your edge after that little vacation you took?”

Villain was breathing heavily. Their hands grasped at Hero’s, which were fisted in the front of their suit, but Villain lacked their typical strength. “Wasn’t a vacation, you jerk,” they huffed. “And I’m doing my best here.”

Hero pulled one of their hands back, and their heart jumped when Villain flinched away from them; they’d never reacted like that before. The instinctual fear was clearly visible in their eyes.

“Whoa, hey,” Hero said softly. “I was just gonna—your mask is slipping.”

Villain looked down, frowning. “Sorry. I just...go ahead.”

Hero raised their hands slowly and adjusted Villain’s mask, noting the sharp intake of breath when Hero’s fingers grazed their cheek. As they put it back in place, Hero could see a dark bruise hiding under the mask. The slightest bit of purple spread up their cheekbone.

Villain was trembling when Hero stepped back.

“Are you okay?” Hero asked. Logically, they knew they should take advantage of Villain’s weakness and bring them in. But they just couldn’t bring themself to be that cruel.

“When I was gone this week,” Villain whispered, “I was...Supervillain took me hostage. I’ll spare you the details but...they did some shit to me I wouldn’t even do to my enemies.”

Hero felt their heart ache at the admission and the pained expression in Villain’s eyes when they looked back up. “I’m sorry, I—I had no idea.”

“Not your fault,” Villain said with a shrug. They tried to force a smile as well, but it didn’t quite work. “But it messed me up pretty good. I can’t sleep. I can’t move without remembering their hands on me.”

A sick feeling curled in Hero’s stomach as they imagined what the normally collected Villain must have been through to have them on the verge of tears at the memory. They slowly reached out, giving Villain enough time to stop them—but when they didn’t, Hero pulled them into an embrace. “It’s over,” they muttered into Villain’s hair. “You're safe now.”

Their words seemed to open the floodgates, and suddenly Villain broke down. Hero didn’t know what to do, so they just held their nemesis as they cried. The fact that they’d been in the middle of a fight passed through Hero’s mind, but it didn’t matter now. They were a hero—their job was to help people. Even if those people regularly made their life hell.

“I’m sorry,” Villain choked out. “This is pathetic. And I—I deserved it.”

“No one deserves to be hurt like that,” Hero said, rubbing their back in soothing circles.

Villain tried to steady their breathing as they looked up at Hero, eyes glistening with tears. “Thank you. Just—give me a minute, and we can get back to it.”

“What do you say we get a rain check,” Hero asked with a small smile, “and you let me buy you a coffee instead?”

Villain sniffled and rolled their eyes. “As long as you promise to reschedule. Because I was looking forward to kicking your ass.”

Hero laughed. “Okay, deal.”

Although the coffee may not have truly fixed anything, it was a welcomed comfort.

taglist: @morning-star-whump

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno14 #flinching #breakdown #hero x villain #hero villain writing #hero caretaker #villain whumpee #implied torture #implied noncon #aftermath of whump #past trauma #hurt/comfort #whump #whump writing #whumpblr #snippet

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befuddled-calico-whump · 6 days

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when the rest of the crew was captured, Jericho dropped everything to go after them. He managed to find Joy and Benji only a few days later, but by the time he got to Kaius and Hunter it had been weeks.

Cybercrew AU // T$$ AU Masterlist

@theonewithallthefixations , @violets-whumperflies , @whump-me , @pirefyrelight , @soheavyaburden , @snakebites-and-ink , @whumpsday , @kixngiggles , @echo-goes-aaa , @whumpcateyes , @clickerflight , @sodacreampuff , @starfields08000

#hunter is scrawny but he can take a lot of hits through sheer willpower #kaius is just a little lad #whump art #t$$ cyber au #whump comic #torture #aftermath of whump #rescue #beaten #his shoulders are dislocated :)#angst #whumpy art #partial nudity #implied noncon #VAGUE but just in case

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whump-or-whatever · 8 months

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A whumpee who is so overwhelmed by the mere sight of the scars whumper left them with that they feel the need get rid of them. Whether that be cut cutting, carving, burning them off, what have you… they just need them gone.

What happens next could be any variety of events…

• Whumpee starts getting rid of the scars by themself but passes out before/soon after finishing, caretaker finds them

• Whumpee starts on their own and caretaker walks in on them mid-act

• Whumpee starts on their own but can’t reach them all, goes to caretaker and asks for help as if it’s no big deal, caretaker is understandably horrified

• Whumpee knows they will need help to do it and convinces caretaker to help because they’re going to do it either way and it’ll be much easier/somewhat safer with help

• Caretaker manages to talk whumpee out of it (either beforehand of upon finding whumpee mid-act)

• Whumpee stumbles out after finishing and promptly collapses into caretaker’s arms

Or any combination thereof. Feel free to add any others you can think of.

#tw self harm #implied sh #whump #whump prompts #whump prompt #whump scenario #whump idea #whump community #whumpee #caretaker #whumper #whumpblr #scars whump #aftermath of whump #whump recovery #recovery whump

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comfy-whumpee · 5 months

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If your whumpee is clingy and trained to give physical affection, make sure they have a caretaker or fellow whumpee who finds that uncomfortable and unnerving!

If they put themselves low down or kneel, or call themselves derogatory names, at least some people will find that offputting!

If they offer slavish devotion, that can be unsettling! Disturbing and pressuring! Unfair and destabilising!

Let your whumpees be creepy to outsiders!

#I know people are mixed on the soft uwu boy whumpees #but we can do better than make everyone pity them instantly #whump #intimate whump #aftermath of whump #recovery whump

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rainydaywhump · 1 month

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Did you ask for an angsty, bittersweet but hopeful comic about trauma featuring Kel and Annette? I'm not hearing a no!

CWs: aftermath of kidnapping/captivity, referenced death (not of any characters you know), talks about trauma and recovery.

Taglist: (I love you all): @i-eat-worlds @pigeonwhumps @den-of-whump @generic-whumperz @little-peril-stories

Written-out script below the images.

Script:

[Annette and Kel are sitting on the porch of Kel's cabin. It's a peaceful evening.] Annette: "There was this girl I liked in college."

Kel, smiling: "Oh?"

Annette: "She was out of my league, but hey, I could dream..."

[Kel laughs.]

Annette, smiling wistfully: "I thought of her a lot when I was kidnapped. Her laugh...her loopy handwriting...her earrings...but, after so many months in pain bacm there, I forgot her face. I still can't picture it."

Annette, hunched over dejectedly: "I swear, my brain keeps thinking of things to be upset about."

Kel: "You know..."

[An image of a younger Kel and a man laughing at a bar.] Kel: "Back when I was in the service, I met a guy there. I rather suspected our handler had set us up, heh.

He went on his mission, I went on mine...and he never got to come back. I never knew his real name. That's just how we worked: without a trace."

[An image of Kel standing in front of the Central Intelligence Agency's Memorial Wall.] Kel: "The only proof of his life and death, save for the knowledge of a few people in the agency, was the hurt I carried for him. Parting with that pain was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

When there is nothing to bury, when any physical wounds have healed, when those at fault go free -- we cling to anything that'll prove that the trauma was there."

[Back to the cabin setting in the present day.] Kel: "And we gotta give ourselves grace for that...just like we gotta give ourselves grace for letting go.

Of course, I'm no psychologist, so take that with a grain of -- "

[Annette leans her head on Kel's shoulder, surprising her.] Annette: "Thank you."

Kel: ... "You're welcome, Annette."

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #whump art #art #whump rescue #whump recovery #recovery whump #aftermath of trauma #aftermath of whump #trauma #healing #annette oc #annette and kel #kel oc #whump caretaker #zombies are an afterthought

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ashintheairlikesnow · 6 months

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ash beloved, as a prince of woe and misfortune (a fibromyalgia haver) can i request some jameson on a bad pain day

the current vibe is 'i need to pee but my legs are fucking screaming and i havent even moved them yet and my shoes feel too tight because all my peripheral joints are getting inflamed' and i feel Terrible bc i used to be able to just ,, do stuff and now i cannot because of the evil 'You Have Pain And Doctors Don't Know Why' Disorder™

i am not sure whether i want to revel in shared misery or schadenfreude but i am sure i want to see a guy in pain

Anon, my gift to you and my sympathies for your Whole Body:

CW: Chronic pain, self-harm (brief, self-hitting), self-loathing, aftermath of whump, recovering whumpee

"You pushed yourself too hard, that's all." Nat tries for soothing, but when she puts a hand out to touch his shoulder, Jameson shoots her a furious glare and she carefully shifts it back again. "Right. Okay. You have to take things slow, honey, your legs-"

"-are goddamn fucking useless, yeah, I get it. I got it." Jameson's rasping voice is thinned to little more than a whisper as he hunches over himself, sitting sideways on the couch with his legs out on the cushions bent at the knees, refusing to straighten. He slams a fist down on his thigh just to feel a bloom of new pain that's is brighter and new compared to the eternal goddamn throbbing of the old. It's... nice. He tries it again on the other side.

Jesus, how fucked up is this? That this is what helps?

"Hey, hey now," Nat says, and before he can do it again she takes his wrist in her cool hands and holds his arm steady. "Not your best idea. I didn't call any part of you useless, that isn't what I said, honey."

"I wanted to walk to the goddamn gas station." Jameson glares at her hands, but he holds still under her deft, gentle touch. He doesn't pull away, or hit anything, he just... sits here, his knees shifting and muscles twitching in a pointless attempt to escape what's inside of them, what's as much a part of him as his own breath in his lungs now. "It's less than two miles. Less than two! I used to-... to run, on the treadmills in training, for fucking five miles, ten miles, no fucking sweat. My handlers told me I had a record for going so fast. I could run for fucking days on end, if I had to! Now..."

He groans, dropping back against the arm of the couch, even angrier when hot tears burn against his eyelids, trying to force their way out.

"Jameson-"

"Now... I can't even fucking walk."

"You do have the crutches, and the chair you can use, I know the sidewalk runs all the way past the gas station-"

"I wanted to fucking walk, Nat! I felt really good this morning! This shit didn't start up until I was putting on my fucking clothes! I shouldn't have fucking needed the goddamn fucking crutches or the stupid fucking chair!"

He grabs almost sightlessly for the crutch leaning against the couch, has it in his hand, and pulls his arm back to throw it.

"I hate this fucking shit!"

Nat's hand closes back around his wrist, and this time her grip is like iron, and Jameson feels his rage wither when he meets her steady hazel eyes.

"Jameson. You are not going to throw that."

Nat rarely uses this voice. Not with him. But now she does, firm and even stern, brooking no appeal. If she wasn't Nat, that voice would be an impossible turn-on. He'd be on his knees, not that he could do that without screaming any longer. He'd be begging her for... anything.

If she was Nanda...

No one's ever going to be Nanda. Not ever again. He pushes down the sharp, if finally slightly faded, spike of pain.

Nat refuses to let him look away this time. "Listen to me. That crutch is a tool, not a weapon. It was a gift, and it is a gift for you. It lets you go places you could not go before. Just like the chair. So if you break it, it's broken, and you lose that tool. Please, honey, don't cost yourself something that helps by getting angry at it for being needed."

"I didn't need it, before," He whispers, and she takes the crutch away from him, laying it down on the floor. He lets her do it. "Even when I was on the run. I didn't need this shit until I started getting better, and it feels like I'm just getting worse."

She nods, and holds his hands in her own. The ache in his fingers fades a little when they warm to each other. "Your body is incredible," She says, voice low. When he scoffs, she shakes her head, smiling. "Come on, let me finish. You survived two people who tried to kill you."

"Technically five people have tried to kill me."

"Five?" Nat looks, briefly, so baffled that Jameson nearly laughs. "You've only mention the two-"

"Those were the two where I killed them first," He says, voice low. "I don't even feel bad about it."

"I know. And I'm not asking you to feel bad. I've done some things in my life I'm not proud of, too, but it kept this safehouse together and I don't regret it for a second."

"What... what did you do?"

"We're not talking about me. I'm saying that you lived when other people died. You have survived more than any other runaway I've ever met. Your body carried you through it. It kept you alive. It kept you moving, kept carrying your weight when it wanted to give out because you hadn't given up fighting. Now, it doesn't have to carry you so far anymore. Your body knows you're safe, that you have people here who care about you, so it's hurting like hell because it hasn't allowed itself to hurt as much as it needed to for a long, long time. Your body carried every bad thing that ever happened to you, and I for one am grateful for it, because it got you here to us. Look at you."

Jameson shifts, trying to move his legs so he can face her. They protest with a scream that he has to grind his teeth against, but he manages to get both feet flat on the floor. "Look at me?"

"Yeah. Look at you. You're alive, honey." She smiles, hands on either side of his face, and he finds himself - reluctantly - smiling back. "You're alive and you wake up every day and sometimes the days are good, and sometimes they're not-"

"Like today. Today sucks."

She laughs, short and soft, and he loves her so much it is physically painful, the way that you love a mother, or a sister. "Yeah, okay. I'll give you that. But today is just one day, and you've got more comin'. Maybe tomorrow you can walk to the store, or maybe you'll need the crutches or the chair, but you know what? You'll still get there, if you want to, because you are the most stubborn son of a gun on earth and if you want those awful taquitos, I know you'll find a way."

Jameson's smile shifts. Incredulous, he asks, "Did... you just say 'son of a gun'?"

"Oh, shut up. I grew up in a family where that was just about the worst thing any of us could say without serious punishment. Sometimes that stuff still comes out." She pokes him in the nose, watching him wrinkle it in response.

There's a pause.

Then he clears his throat.

"It wasn't, uh, it wasn't taquitos." He discovers he's mumbling, flushing a little.

"Oh. Doughnuts, then?"

"No, not those, either, just... it's stupid. But Vince, uh, the other day he made this stupid fucking joke about Red Bull, so..."

"So..." She blinks, eyebrows furrowing. "You were... going to buy him a Red Bull?"

"I was... gonna buy about fifty and put them in his bed."

Nat just stares at him, blinking, as seconds stretch slowly out. "You were... you were going to-"

"Buy like... fifty Red Bulls and put them in his bed, uh, cover them in his fucking blankets and like arrange them like a person, and then... you know... It, uh, makes better sense in context."

"How could it possibly? You know what, doesn't matter. Here's what we'll do. You get those crutches on your arms, and i'll drive you to the gas station, and we will... we will get you your... fifteen Red Bulls."

"Fifty."

"Oh, my God. Where do you even get that much money?"

"... Vince gave me money."

"You're using his own money to prank him?"

"It's not like he fucking needs it!"

"You know what? I'm going to stop asking questions when the answers only give me new questions to ask." She pats his arm, and he takes the opportunity to brusquely throw an arm around her and crush her tightly to him in a hug. "Jameson-"

"Thanks," He mutters, then pushes her back and away so he can clumsily get on his feet. His knees nearly buckle, but when he throws his hand out Nat is holding the crutch, and he slots his arm into the cuff that fits just below his elbow. Nat has to hand him the other one, and help him with his shoes, and the whole time his legs ache like someone is slowly sawing them off with a nail file, but he stays standing.

He wants to play this stupid fucking prank on Vincent fucking Shield, and he can already tell it's the only thing he'll be able to do today and even that's only with Nat's help.

By the time they get back from one single errand he'll need more painkillers and a nap just to recover enough to finish putting the energy drinks into Vince's bed. Then maybe another nap after that.

But it's what he wants to do.

Fuck it.

If he only gets one thing to work on this shitty day, it might as well be the most bafflingly confusing thing he's ever done.

Plus, Nat always plays Jameson's playlist when she drives him in her car. So that's one good thing.

#jameson bb #whump #chronic pain tw #aftermath of whump #recovering whumpee #escaped whumpee #caretaker and whumpee #self-harm tw #brief but still worth the tag I think #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #box boy whump #writing

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whumblr · 17 days

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Memories

"So, you remember all the rules, hm? And the punishments that go with them, of course."

"Of course," Whumpee mumbled and, prompted by a sharp gaze, continued: "The whip."

Whumper nodded, slowly circling the kneeling figure. A sly smirk crossed his lips as he threw a quick glance to Caretaker, subdued, helpless, utterly powerless as he too was forced to his knees.

"Good," he said and stopped pacing, kneeling down in front of Whumpee. "Tell me, what do you remember from that, exactly? Hm?" He brought up a finger to their chin and before he even brushed over their skin, Whumpee's eyes found his.

Reluctantly, trembling under Whumper's expecting gaze, Whumpee forced themself back to the recesses of their mind, the place that they avoided at all costs. A little corner with dark memories from their previous captivity, memories that despite all their safeguarding sometimes slipped free at the moment they were least wanted, when Whumpee was least prepared.

What did they remember... The pain, obviously. That blinding sharp pain crossing into their skin. How it didn't fade, how the pain just spread and lingered and worsened with every following lash.

But those weren't the memories that slipped free. In unguarded moments, they heard a voice crooning, echoing in their mind.

"I... I hear the lashes of the whip. And... your voice. Cold. Counting after every crack."

Whumper nodded. "How about your own voice? Do you hear your own screams?"

Whumpee thought for a bit, tensed up, reliving the memories in vivid detail. The pain, the despair, the rotten sound of the whip. How their lips parted in a scream, how their voice rasped in their throat... but they couldn't recall the sound. "No..." they simply said in barely more than a whisper.

Whumper hummed. "I do. I remember them well, especially how your voice cracked."

He stood and with the lightest brush over their cheek, Whumpee followed right along. "But I don't mind if you refresh my memory."

General whump tag list: @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @whumpawink @painsandconfusion @auroragehenna @chaotic-orphan

#whump #whump drabble #whump writing #recapture #aftermath of whump #emotional whump #whumplr #threatened torture #angst #implied torture #creepy captor #my writing

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patheticlittleguy · 2 years

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caretaker tenderly patching up whumpee as they get progressively sleepier from exhaustion. caretaker keeps nudging them awake so they can finish patching whumpee up. the moment theyre done whumpee lays their head on the crook of caretakers neck. caretaker holds them and they sink bonelessly into caretakers arms. (sleep takes them swiftly, mercifully)

#shark prompts #exhausted whumpee #caretaking #aftermath of whump #implied torture #or some kind of beating 🤷🏻‍♂️

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whump-and-other-misfortunes · 3 months

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Whumpuary 2024 Day 15

15. (Jan 29-31) You're safe / Aftermath / Touch starved

cw aftermath of torture, conditioned whumpee, physical abuse, captivity

Whumper gently lays them on the bed, mindful of Whumpee’s bruised ribs and sprained ankle. Or maybe it’s broken—they can’t tell. All they know is that everything hurts and their vision is still blurry. But Whumper shushes them and pets their hair, wiping away Whumpee’s tears as they sob.

“It’s okay, it’s all over now,” they coo. Whumper is always so sweet after their little sessions—it's disarming. “You did so good for me, angel.”

They feel empty and utterly drained—they always do after Whumper is done with them. And the worst part is that Whumpee always ends up craving their touch. They should hate Whumper. But after hours of being tortured and humiliated in whatever ways Whumper feels like, all they want is to be held. To be praised. They let their eyes slip shut as they reach out for their captor, tugging them closer.

“Aw, honey,” Whumper murmurs, lying down beside them and gathering Whumpee in their arms. “Rest, okay? You did so well tonight. You can sleep now, and I’ll be right here.”

Whumpee sniffles as their cries begin to peter out, exhaustion overtaking them. They nuzzle their head into Whumper’s chest and take comfort in the affection, too tired to wonder what horrors Whumper has planned for them tomorrow.

For now, they can sleep.

taglist: @morning-star-whump

#whumpuary2024 #whumpuaryno15 #aftermath #touchstarved #aftermath of whump #whump #whump writing #captive whumpee #physical abuse #whumpblr #conditioned whumpee #snippet

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befuddled-calico-whump · 1 month

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guys they are so unbothered

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast , @whumpsday , @regrets-realization-acceptance , @kixngiggles , @randomlifeunit , @darkthingshappen

#yes that's the interrogator #whump art #whumpy art #partial nudity #the interrogator #bruised #aftermath of whump #breakdown #tw eyestrain #(very minor but the text layers are kinda)#whumper turned whumpee

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arenskreigh · 1 year

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Hospital whump recovery prompts because I was in the hospital and I’m just thinking about it still:

•Caretaker feeding whumpee cause they can’t really move

•Whumpee having to go into a procedure or surgery and begging for the doctors to let caretaker be there

•Whumpee getting no sleep at all because doctors are constantly coming in to check on them

•Finally getting to take a shower, but then they have to look at all the damage whumper did to them

•doctors having to ask how they were hurt

#whump #whumplr #hospital whump #aftermath of whump #whumpy things

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whump-card · 7 months

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Sunless Lives Part 29: I Will Take You Home

~2270 words

CW: discussion of suicide (but we know it’s actually the) aftermath of attempted murder by drugging, sedation, medical setting

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

~~~

“Captain Isles!”

Matthew’s voice boomed through the parking garage. He’d been loitering by Isles’ white Lincoln Aviator for the last hour, waiting for the Captain to get out of work.

“Beck.” Isles slowed his approach, stopping a few yards away from Matthew.

“I want to see Simon,” Matthew demanded, “I hear you’re the man to talk to.”

Isles nodded slowly.

“He wants to see you too.”

This response caught Matthew off guard.

“You’ll let me?”

“You, and getting out, were all he would ever ask about, before…” He trailed off, looking away.

“How is he?” Matthew asked, his voice a little softer.

“Not good,” Isles admitted, “They keep him pretty sedated for his own safety, and it’s… not pretty.”

“When can I see him?”

Isles met his gaze, solemn and steady.

“I’ll pick you up at noon tomorrow.”

~~~

Matthew walked quickly enough to make the visitor’s tag bounce where it was clipped to the collar of his light spring jacket. Isles strode alongside him, grim and quiet, as they were led by an orderly through twisting hallways and multiple security doors. The building had a hint of dinginess and a heavy silence aside from their footsteps that made Matthew nervous.

“How much research did you do on this place before you put him here?” Matthew asked.

“It’s the only facility on the east coast that’s impervious to vampires,” Isles replied, “That was all that mattered to me. At the time.”

Matthew believed in the level of security. They had passed armed guards with dogs outside, and they each had to do a blood test at reception before being let through a pair of heavy gates.

It all hardly mattered if someone was in more danger from themselves than a vampire.

They rounded a corner and a gray-haired man in a doctor’s coat fell into step with them.

“Captain Isles, I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” The doctor was obviously trying to sound pleased to see Isles, and was failing miserably. “Who’s your friend?”

Isles slowed his pace considerably.

“Dr Deckard, this is… Matthew Beck.”

The doctor stopped short.

“Captain, I thought we were in agreement that Beck’s presence would be dangerous for Simon.”

“I’ve changed my mind,” Isles said flatly.

Matthew watched the exchange, a little offended that neither were directly acknowledging him.

“Simon is far too vulnerable for this right now, this is something I’d need weeks to prepare him for, at the very least.” Dr Deckard was arguing, but shrinking back at the same time, fiddling with his tie and running a hand through his thin hair. In contrast, Isles stood tall and radiated authority.

“I think I get the final say here,” the Captain said.

“Y-yes, of course.” Dr Deckard finally cast Matthew a brief glance, then turned on his heel to lead them onwards. “This way, gentlemen.”

Simon’s room was only a few doors further; Dr Deckard unlocked it with a keycard and held the door for Isles and Matthew. Matthew’s heart pounded as he followed the Captain in. Four months. He hadn’t seen Simon in four months, and now they were going to be in the same room together. Would he panic? Would Simon panic? Or would it be joyful? Would they kiss? Would Simon reject him? Would -

Simon lay on his back in the bed, his head turned towards them and his eyes closed. His expression was soft, peaceful, and his face was full and round like it should be, not the gaunt shadowy thing Matthew had seen last. His wrists were restrained to the bed frame, but the straps were thickly padded and not too tight.

He looked okay. Not horrible, not perfect, but safe. Alive.

The only thing that caught Matthew off guard was Simon’s hair: it had been shaved recently, and was currently a shadow of peach fuzz.

“His hair, what-” he mumbled, unable to look away from Simon’s unconscious form.

“After he took the pills, he fell and hit his head rather badly. We needed his hair out of the way to stitch it up.” Dr Decker explained, watching Matthew carefully.

“Pills?” A lump formed in Matthew’s throat.

“Yes. He stole them from the pharmacy.”

Matthew took a shuddering breath.

“Is he - will he wake up? Can I talk to him?”

“He’ll be foggy, but yes. But you should know,” Dr Deckard warned, “He’s been quite the chronic liar during his stay here. I wouldn’t put much stock in anything he says, particularly under the effects of the sedative.”

Simon: a liar, a thief, and suicidal. Matthew couldn’t wrap his head around it. He pulled up a chair and sat as close as he could to Simon’s bedside, right in front of Simon’s face. Isles and the doctor hung back, observing.

“Simon?” Matthew reached over and took Simon’s hand in his. It was limp and cool. “Simon, I’m here.” Simon’s fingers twitched and Matthew gave them a gentle squeeze. Simon’s eyelids fluttered and Matthew’s heart soared.

“There you are, there you are.”

Simon’s eyes opened, and met Matthew’s.

Nothing.

Simon stared blankly, with no recognition. Matthew’s guts twisted and plunged with horror, and he sat frozen for a long second. Then three. Then five.

Then Simon’s eyes widened.

“Mm’thew,” he whispered.

Matthew sobbed with relief.

“Yeah, I’m here, I’m here!”

“Matthew,” Simon rasped, his eyes filling with tears, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

I’m sorry, Matthew, I didn’t mean it, please don’t be mad -

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Matthew soothed, suppressing the memory, “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?” He twisted in his seat to glare at Isles.

“We’re taking him home. Today.”

Isles shook his head.

“There are still vampires-”

“Fuck the list!” Matthew snapped, and Simon’s fingers flinched within his, “This place is going to kill him before any of them do.”

“Simon is in a very fragile state at the moment,” Dr Deckard cut in, “I would not recommend moving him.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Simon was still whispering apologies.

Isles looked back and forth between them all, conflicted.

“Cap, you know it’s the right thing to do.”

Isles’ gaze settled on Simon, his brow heavy. He took a short breath.

“Fine. But he stays with me.”

That was good enough for Matthew. He turned back to Simon.

“You hear that? You’re…” But then he heard what Simon was saying.

“I cheated on you, I’m so sorry Matthew, I cheated on you, I had to…”

“Woah, hey,” Matthew reached out to caress Simon’s head with his free hand, “What do you mean, what happened?”

“With, with an orderly, Matthew, I had to,” mumbled Simon. Matthew’s head snapped back around to glare at Dr Deckard.

“What the hell is he talking about?”

“Like I said,” Dr Deckard shrugged innocently, “He lies, for attention, to try and get special treatment. What he’s saying is impossible, the whole facility is covered in cameras that are observed at all times, and all our staff and faculty are thoroughly vetted. I’m sorry, but he’s lying to you.”

“Why would he tell me a lie that would upset me?”

“More likely, he’s trying to make me and the employees here look bad.” the doctor smiled sadly. “It’s not uncommon for patients like him to have a victim complex. You coming to rescue him and infantilize him is exactly what he wants. I strongly recommend against removing him from my care at this time.”

“Isles?” Matthew looked to the Captain. Isles turned to Dr Deckard.

“Please bring me whatever paperwork I need to have him released,” he requested.

“Alright, but you’re just going to bring him back in a week or so when you realize you can’t handle him, and I’ll have to start back at square one.”

“Just do it. Please.”

Dr Deckard left in a huff. Matthew ignored him, turning his attention back to Simon. Simon had fallen back asleep, tears dried on his face, so Matthew just gently stroked his knuckles and his brow and waited. Eventually a nurse arrived with a clipboard full of paperwork for Isles. After that, everything happened rather quickly. A wheelchair was brought, and a pair of orderlies unstrapped Simon from the bed and moved him to the chair. Matthew winced when he saw the back of Simon’s head when it lolled forward; there was a line of thick stitches. Then Simon lifted his head, and mumbled incoherent questions as they wheeled him out of the building. Matthew stuck right by him, speaking soothing words and touching his shoulder. It felt like they were doing something illegal, somehow, as they ushered him quickly out of the maw of the fortress and to the sunny parking lot. Matthew shooed the orderlies away and lifted Simon into Isles’ car himself, and got in the back seat with him. Isles got into the driver’s seat, depositing a plastic bag full of Simon’s winter clothes from four months ago into the passenger seat. Matthew buckled Simon in then laid him down with his head on Matthew’s thigh. Simon's eyes blinked open, glassy and soft.

“Are we going home?” he murmured.

Matthew wondered what ‘home’ he was imagining - the VIU? Their Boston studio? Maybe even Lara’s house, or his childhood home.

“You’re going to stay with Isles for a while,” Matthew said as the car started to move, “You’re never going back to Summerwhite, okay?”

Simon’s foggy gaze drifted across Matthew’s face.

“Which one are you?” he mumbled, his brows pinching slightly.

“I…” Matthew glanced up at Isles - the captain was focused on the road. “It’s me, Simon. I’m human, it’s me.”

“Oh… Good.” But Simon didn’t sound relieved. Mildly disturbed, Matthew stroked Simon’s face in what he hoped was a calming way. Simon relaxed a little, his forehead softening and his eyes fluttering closed.

Fort Summerwhite was an hour and a half west of DC, and they made good time to Isles’ house. The two bedroom blue craftsman was tiny, but having a detached home with its own backyard this close to the capitol was a massive luxury. Matthew scooped Simon up and carried him up the steps to the wide porch bridal style while Isles unlocked the door.

“Put him in my room for now, in the back to the right,” Isles said, holding open the door, “It’ll take me a minute to set up the pull-out.”

Matthew made his way to Isles’ bedroom, his arms straining under Simon’s weight. His healthy weight, he reminded himself, not like -

Pressing his fingers into the indents of ribs. Pinching skin just to watch how long it took the color to come back.

Matthew laid Simon down on Isle’s bed and jumped back like he’d been burned, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

Not now. Get it together.

He double checked that Simon was lying comfortably and hurried back out of the bedroom. He took a moment to glance around the house; he’d never been there before. It smacked of someone who wanted to look like marriage material, but hadn’t quite stuck the landing. It was a little over decorated here, a little under decorated there. Lots of beiges and blues and Target throw pillows. He found Isles in the second bedroom that he had outfitted as an office, unfolding a small couch out into a bed. Matthew wordlessly assisted, catching the extension and lowering it down.

“Now I just need to remember where I stashed the sheets for this thing,” Isles muttered.

“Do you have enough food for two people? If you don’t mind me borrowing your car, I could make a grocery run,” Matthew offered, eager to help in any way he could think of.

“Actually, Beck… Matthew, I…” Isles looked at him, searching for the words. Matthew’s heart sank.

“No.”

“Matthew, I’m going to follow Dr Deckard’s recommendation. I don’t think you should be around Simon.”

“I’m not a vampire anymore! I pose no threat, none at all.”

“You still pose a threat to his mental health,” Isles argued, “I don’t want you playing with his emotions.”

“Playing with his emotions? Cap, you really think I would do that?” Matthew asked, incredulous. “I love him, I need to be here for him!”

Isles paused, frowning - but didn’t budge.

“No. You need to call someone to come pick you up, I don’t want you here when he comes to.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Matthew demanded, raising his voice. “Shouldn’t Simon get a say in this?”

“Yes, I’m serious!” Isles’ voice was immediately louder than his, “And Simon is under my custody, it’s my responsibility to keep him safe.”

“You really think I’m that dangerous?”

“Yes!” Isles hollered, “Now get out of my house before I have you arrested for trespassing!”

Matthew froze. He was still on probation from the rehab facility, any trouble with the law and he would go right back. No phone calls. No dad. And an even slimmer chance of getting to see Simon again.

“What even was this, then?” he asked, his voice wobbling, “Why even let me come with you?”

Isles glowered at him.

“It was a mistake. He’s better off without you.”

“No, I…”

“He’s better off. Without you.”

Letting Isles see him cry would be beyond humiliating, so Matthew turned and fled. He pulled his phone out of his pocket - an old smartphone with a cracked screen that his dad had enough foresight to resurrect and set up for him before he got out - and dialed Gina.

“Yellow?”

“I’m at Isles’, can you come pick me up?” Matthew sobbed.

“I can come right now. What happened?”

“I can’t, I can’t, please, just… Get here soon.”

~~~

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#whump #whump fic #whump writing #sunless lives #sunless lives arc 3 #cw discussion of suicide #cw sedation #aftermath of whump #cw medical setting

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