#physical violence | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaotic-orphan · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump: day two

Prompt: Solitary Confinement

Prompt from @febuwhump

Tw: violence, claustrophobia (explicit), blood, general brutality, strong Whumper, (if I missed anything lmk, sorry I’m tired)

P.S. — the pronouns for both characters is male, it might get patchy sometimes but just from the outset, okay enjoy!

*~*~*~*~*

A hand curling into Whumpee’s shirt and hauling him out of bed in the dead of night was his wake-up call. Whumpee eyes shot open in the darkness, panic seizing his chest as he seized the wrist of the hand, his legs hit the floor but turned to jelly, his bare feet finding no purchase.

“Wha—!” Whumpee cried in alarm, legs kicking uselessly at his attacker. The hand in his shirt bunched the fabric and another was on Whumpee’s hip. The next thing Whumpee knew they were weightless until his back thumped into the wall across the room, winding them, as they fell to the ground with a dull thud and a gasp.

Whumpee had only got his hands under him when they got a kick to the ribs. It lifted Whumpee’s body off the floor, before another more forceful followed. The impact sent Whumpee back into the wall gasping, his head knocking off the wall leaving him dazed.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out, Whumpee?” Whumper’s voice said from above Whumpee, fury hidden behind the eerie calm of his voice.

“Wh—” Whumpee gasped, the words catching in his throat. Whumpee coughed trying to clear it which gave Whumper another reason to kick him in the ribs again.

Whumpee wrestled his arms down over his ribs trying to protect him futilely, but Whumper just kept kicking. The final kick stomped down on Whumpee’s back as they tried to get to his hands and knees. Whumpee hit the floor with a pained oomph.

Whumpee coughed pathetically, rasping in breaths to fill his lungs but every breath felt like a dagger in his chest.

A hand balled into the back of Whumpee’s shirt and started to drag Whumpee out the door of his room into the hall. The fabric of his pyjama bottoms sliding easily across the hall, mixed with the lame sounds of Whumpee’s feet screeching across the wood trying to get to his feet.

“Get up Whumpee,” Whumper told him without letting Whumpee go or slowing enough to let Whumpee get to his feet. Out of sheer will Whumpee pushed themselves to his hands and started half crawling on all fours. Half crawling, because Whumper would pull him at the worst times and Whumpee would slip and have to start the process over again.

Whumper dragged Whumpee to the stairs and didn’t slow or push Whumpee down like Whumpee thought they would. Instead, Whumper dragged Whumpee down the stairs and when Whumpee twisted in his hold Whumper let go and Whumpee tumbled half way down them.

They landed with his back against the railing, mouth open in a silent scream at the fire of pain that raced through his ribs and chest and back. They stared up pathetically at Whumper as he descended, the moonlight and shadows painting him more like a monster than a man.

Whumper crouched down, catching Whumpee’s cheeks in between his thumb and forefinger and pinching him until Whumpee cried out.

“Look at you. Pathetic. To think I had a bit of respect for you, if I’m honest, that you would even dare to fight against me.”

“Fuck you—” Whumpee said, but his jaw groaned at them, and all that they managed was “uck—ou” but still the sentiment was there.

“Don’t worry, Whumpee, we’ll get that nasty defiant streak out of you yet. I’ll never give up on you. You have too much potential to let you go.”

Whumper let go of Whumpee’s face then sent a swift punch to his cheekbone. Whumpee’s head whipped to the side with the impact, crying out. Whumper’s fingers captured Whumpee’s chin and tilted his head back to stare forward. Another swift punch to the cheek and Whumpee gasped. Whumper stood in one fluid motion and kicked Whumpee down the rest of the steps.

Whumpee landed starfish on the ground, his head bouncing off the ground and rattling his brain. Whumpee grit his teeth when Whumper bunched a hand into the back of his shirt again but Whumpee was ready this time and was already pushing themselves up to his feet.

Whumper yanked him the rest of the way to standing and then shoved him forward.

“Atta boy, Whumpee,” Whumper praised as Whumpee stumbled, catching themselves to stop themselves from falling again. Whumpee strode passed Whumpee, practically skipping as he said, “come along Whumpee.”

Whumpee froze when Whumper opened the door to stairs that led to the basement. Whumpee’s legs were like lead as they approached the door, and looked down to see Whumper grinning up at them. Whumper tilted his head at Whumpee, tsking him for lingering by the door.

“Come now, Whumpee, this isn’t the time to be brave,” Whumper said in his smooth, condescending voice. “You don’t want to be in more trouble than you already are, do you?”

Whumpee swallowed hard, helpless tears pinching at the corners of his eyes. They steeled themselves as they descended the stairs towards Whumper, who, after threatening him had already turned to open the basement door, knowing with complete certainty that Whumpee would follow.

The door was made of steel to ensure it couldn’t be broken down, no matter how hard you tried to claw or punch or scream at it. It didn’t bend, or break, or even flinch sympathetically at Whumpee, it just stood like Whumper: cold, stoic, solid.

Whumpee smothered a gasp when his bare feet hit the cement floor, wrapping his arms around themselves as they shivered. Whumpee stepped further into the basement, dread weighing down heavy on his shoulders.

Whumper… he couldn’t know for sure, right? He couldn’t… Whumpee had been so careful.

Whumpee flinched as Whumper shut the door. The turn of the lock sealing his fate. Whumper hung his overcoat and scarf on the coat rack, he kept the suit jacket on which was good. When he took that off and his tie Whumpee knew they really fucked up.

Maybe he doesn’t know, Whumpee dared to hope. They just stared as Whumper walked around to the wall of torture instruments, eyes and body following every movement.

“Tell me, Whumpee, why do you think I dragged you out of bed at 4 in the morning?” Whumper asked, as his eyes roamed over the many instruments designed to cause Whumpee pain.

“Because you’re a sadistic fuck?” Whumpee supplied sweetly.

Whumper laughed. “Mmm, no, but points for style. Try again.”

Whumpee swallowed, tightening his grip on his arms to stop themselves from shaki— shivering. They were shivering because they were cold.

“I don’t know,” Whumpee said, voice quiet. Whumper looked at him over his shoulder, a coy smile on his face.

“Come on, Whumpee. Tell me again what’s my number one rule in the basement?”

Whumpee trailed his gaze just behind Whumper’s head to the wall of horror, not wanting to look in Whumper’s eyes when he said quietly: “no lying.”

“What was that Whumpee? You’re mumbling.”

“No lying,” Whumpee ground out, angry eyes going back to Whumper’s face. Whumper’s smile only grew as he stared at Whumpee. Then he turned his body towards Whumpee and took a menacing step forward. Whumpee had to fight the urge to take a step back.

“Actually, why ruin a good thing we had going?” Whumper asked, shrugging off his jacket. Whumpee’s blood ran cold as Whumper threw his jacket over the chair that Whumpee had been tied to so many times.

Whumper pulled at his tie, loosening the knot.

“Wait!”

The word was out of his mouth before Whumpee could stop it, fear seizing his throat but Whumper paused and that let some relief flood Whumpee’s body.

Whumper smiled kindly at Whumpee. “Yes Whumpee?” He asked innocently.

Whumpee licked his lips, searching for a tangible reason they asked for Whumper to stop other than to delay the inevitable beating.

Whumper tilted his head to the side, lips forming a pout. Whumpee’s heart slammed against his chest, his mind racing as they tried to form a single reason to stop Whumper.

“Why did you bring me down here?” Whumpee tried. If they tried hard enough they could try and play innocent.

Whumper’s smile left his eyes but stayed on his lips, reminding Whumpee of a stray cat who was killing mice just for fun when they were already full.

“You’ll have to do better than that, Whumpee,” Whumper said simply, a smile in his voice as he undid his tie and left it loose over his white button down. Whumper took a step towards Whumpee and this time Whumpee matched it with one back.

“Whumper please,” Whumpee pleaded desperately. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me.”

Whumper shrugged, matching Whumpee step for step. “It’s never bothered me before that you don’t know the reason.”

Whumpee stepped around the medical table, putting it between them, giving him some space from the predator stalking them.

“Yes,” Whumpee blurted. “Yes it has!”

That caused Whumper to pause. “Explain.”

“You— you,” fuck Whumpee! Explain! “You want to teach me a lesson, right? Lesson 1: the golden rule, no lying right? You can’t just attack me for no reason or— or I won’t learn how I disappointed you, right?!”

Right?

Whumper let out a bark of humourless laughter that could curdle Whumpee’s blood. The hairs on the back of his neck prickling, his mind screaming at him to run.

“You know what Whumpee…” Whumper trailed off thoughtfully. “You are right. I do like to teach you lessons. Although, clearly, I need to re-educate on what I constitute as lying. You do remember that omissions count as lying.”

Whumpee’s bottom lip started to wobble, so they bit it to keep it from trembling as Whumper stepped around the table.

“Remind me again,” Whumper said with a step forward, “how did we rectify that situation? How did I teach you about lying?”

Whumpee blanched. “No. No. Nononono,” they protested, backing up as they spoke, hands raised defensively in front of him when his back hit the wall. “No, Whumper please— anything but that, please!”

Whumper grinned, showing his teeth at seeing Whumpee had nowhere else to go. So he took his time in advancing on Whumpee, focusing on the dramatic, really wanting to scare the shit out of Whumpee.

“Oh Whumpee…” Whumper sighed. “Whumpee, Whumpee, Whumpee,” he said, punctuating each use of Whumpee’s name with another step until he was right in front of Whumpee, looking down on Whumpee with that toothy, wolfish grin.

Whumper reached a hand up to thumb away the tears on Whumpee’s face. Whumpee flinched at the contact. They were shaking violently, wanting to shove Whumper’s hand off him but they didn’t want to do anything to aggravate him further.

“Whumpee, this punishment will go away if you just tell me, honestly why I brought you down here. Hmm?”

Whumpee swallowed the lump in his throat trying to get rid of it, but it stayed stubbornly lodged there making it harder to breathe to speak to think.

They couldn’t give up Hero Caretaker… they couldn’t. They didn’t want Whumper to find him too and torture them. Not after everything that Hero had done for them… offering him the brightest ray of hope Whumpee hadn’t seen before. A way out of Whumper and his cruel contracts.

More pressing was the very real fear of going back into that… that cage. Where Whumpee couldn’t move an inch without hitting the edge, unable to think, or scream, or fight back at all.

There was also the chance that Whumper didn’t know about Hero at all, and if Whumpee confessed then Whumper would get more mad and punish him harsher.

“I know you hate the cage, but if it’s the only thing that’ll loosen your tongue then it’s the only way I can punish you.”

“Whumper please, anything but that,” Whumpee begged. “I’ll kneel— I’ll do whatever you want just pl— ple—”

“Shhh, shhh, sh, Whumpee. It’s okay. This is your last chance. Why are you down here?”

A helpless rush of adrenaline crawled vicious up Whumpee’s throat and they did all they thought they could. They shoved Whumper back and when he was far enough back, Whumpee kicked him back further and then ran for the wall of weapons.

They had only managed to just grasp a knife when Whumper was on them, shoving Whumpee forward.

Whumpee’s face hit off the wall, but they got his palms on it and pushed back. A hand snaked into his hair and slammed his head once, twice, three times into the wall. Warm blood trickled down Whumpee’s nose, before Whumper disoriented Whumpee by yanking him backwards. It was a harsh pull to the dazed Whumpee who fell straight backwards, his skull hitting off the cement.

Light flashed behind his eyes at the impact. The next thing they knew Whumper was on top of them, his polished shoe crushing Whumpee’s knife wielding wrist into the cement while he rested his forearm against Whumpee’s windpipe not letting Whumpee up for air.

Whumpee struggled sluggishly against Whumper’s hold, gasping without air like a beached shark.

“God, I love it when you pick the hard way, Whumpee,” Whumper sang above Whumpee. Though it was getting hard to see him with the blackness encroaching his vision. Whumpee felt Whumper pluck the knife from his grip with ease. Whumpee fought back, trying to move but all they did under Whumper was manage a pathetic wiggle.

Whumper let up on Whumpee’s windpipe and Whumpee gasped in air greedily. Then choked on it and sputtered at the rush of oxygen flooding his lungs.

“A knife, hmm?” Whumper asked, eyes bright as he eyed the deadly edge. “Were you going to stab me Whumpee? Tut tut.”

Whumper slashed the knife across Whumpee’s face and Whumpee cried out, struggles renewed under Whumper.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Whumper chastised, pressing the blade against Whumpee’s throat causing Whumpee to still. Whumpee actually stilled.

Whereas before he would’ve dared Whumper to kill him , after Hero he suddenly had something to live. Hero had given him hope, and now Whumpee couldn’t even call Whumper’s bluff in case he followed through with the threat.

Whumper smiled down at Whumpee. “Look at you. Practically docile. You know what, because you tried so hard Whumpee. Last chance to tell me why you’re here.”

Whumpee swallowed, feeling the blade on his adams apple. “Go fuck yourself, Whumper.”

Whumper’s smile widened. “Good.”

Whumper got off Whumpee, hand bunched in his shirt to lift him again. Whumpee struggled this time. Hard. He hit Whumper’s chest, brought his fist down on Whumper’s hand trying to loosen his hold on Whumpee but it was as if Whumpee was doing nothing. As if he was nothing more than air that Whumper could pass through with ease.

Whumper dragged Whumpee, kicking and screaming, over to the box in the corner, the one Whumpee didn’t want to see.

“You fucking bastard! Let me go! Let me go!”

“Okay,” said Whumper and threw Whumpee to the ground while he opened the door to the cage. It was only the size of a locker but could fit a person in quite uncomfortably. Whumpee had enough room to stand, but not enough room to turn, his shoulders wedged tightly inside. Whumpee tried to crawl away from it, but Whumper caught him by the scruff of his neck and yanked him to his feet.

“Whumper—”

“In you go Whumpee,” Whumper said sweetly, two palms placed on his chest and shoving Whumpee into the cage.

“No! Whumper!” Whumpee screamed, trying to wiggle themselves free in time to stop Whumper from closing the door but Whumper’s smile was the last thing Whumpee saw before the door slammed closed and Whumpee was left, trapped inside the metal prison.

His nose was an inch from the door, his breathing already ragged and echoing off the cramped metal.

“You know, Whumpee,” Whumper said from outside, voice muffled by the thick metal. “I think I might pay that Hero of yours a visit while you’re in there.”

“No!” Whumpee screamed, tears already falling as they bent their arm at the elbow and banged on the door. “Whumper let me out! Let me out, please! Whumper! Don’t touch Hero! Let me out, Whumper please!”

Whumpee kicked the door a few times, their chest tight and heaving in gasping breaths but they weren’t getting enough air, and oh god the whole time Whumper knew about Hero?!…

If… if Whumpee had just told them they wouldn’t be in here.

Whumpee wheezed, trying to get in breath but it wouldn’t fill his lungs quick enough and when it did it was gone just as fast as Whumpee tried to blink back tears and kick the door down, the pounding of their kicks echoing off the metal, deafening, but not quite as loud as Whumpee’s heart that thundered from their chest and seemed to hit every wall of their prison.

“Whumper!” Whumpee screamed, pleaded, begged. “Whumper please! I’m sorry! Whumper! Whumper! WHUMPER?!”

Whumpee broke down into a fit of sobs, unable to control anything in their body. Their brain screamed fight or flight, and Whumpee would lose a physical fight against the metal that surrounded every inch of their body.

“Whumper,” Whumpee sniffed, banging uselessly against the metal. “Whumper come back, please! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’M SORRY FOR LYING, WHUMPER!”

Whumpee didn’t know how long Whumper left them there. Time didn’t seem to matter much when your body was fighting with itself. Eating itself with fear.

It felt like years.

Maybe Whumper would leave them there for years.

Maybe Whumpee would die in that box.

That just set them off again. Screaming, pleading, crying. It felt as if Whumpee went through the five stages of grief on repeat for hours on end, all except Acceptance.

Whumper smiled as they left the basement to Whumpee’s broken voice bargaining with them to let them out.

34 notes · View notes

writr4luvrs · 8 months

Text

Levi Ackerman absolutely does not find yandere!reader to be the least sense cute or attractive (despite him lowkey liking the idea of someone being utterly devoted to him). Prior to resorting to even more physical violence, Levi goes to Erwin and tells him he will "continue to beat the sh/t out of you until your behavior is corrected or you're broken."

How long are you going to last, yandere!reader?

#aot #levi ackerman #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #levi ackerman x reader #yandere!reader #yandere #levi ackerman hc #levi headcanon #wtf is wrong with you?#your make the rest of us uncomfortable #how did you even last this long?#masochism #physical violence #dark content #luvr writes

30 notes · View notes

ivygorgon · 29 days

Text

Credit Adam Ellis

AN OPEN LETTER to THE U.S. CONGRESS

Stop the attacks on trans people! Introduce and pass the EQUALITY Act now!

2,621 so far! Help us get to 3,000 signers!

I’m writing out of great alarm at the attacks on LGBTQ people in our country. I’m particularly horrified at how trans people—especially trans kids—are being targeted. I agree with President Biden—it’s the duty of national legislators “to protect all the people’s rights and freedoms,” and to “pass the bipartisan Equality Act to ensure LGBTQ Americans, especially transgender young people, can live with safety and dignity.”

Right now, there are hundreds of state bills aimed at denying the LGBTQ+ community the free speech, health care, civil rights, and public accommodation due ALL Americans. Together with encouraging hateful rhetoric and physical violence, this is akin to state-sponsored terrorism against a peaceful minority. Historically, we’ve seen this before. It is a precursor to genocide.

Have you publicly spoken against anti-trans and anti-gay state laws? What other actions are you taking to protect the rights and freedoms of their LGBTQ+ constituents? What level of tragedy will it take to change this?

Attacking marginalized communities is the opposite of what our country is supposed to be about. I expect to see you take strong action to oppose it. Thanks.

▶ Created on March 21, 2023 by Jess Craven

📱 Text SIGN PTFEXR to 50409

🤯 Liked it? Text FOLLOW JESSCRAVEN101 to 50409

6 notes · View notes

kissoflightning · 6 months

Text

Leo’s Pissed @simping-for-kamski

#I have been reading Make It Yours by TranscientNight lol #Leo is Mad #leo manfred #elijah kamski #dbh #detroit become human #detroit: become human #character swap #dbh leo #dbh elijah kamski #violence #physical violence #fighting #dbh mods #KOL: MODS

7 notes · View notes

littleperilstories · 1 year

Text

The Prince of Thieves: Cross My Heart, Hope Not to Die

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03!

Warnings: Fantasy-esque prison setting, restraints (shackles), mention of infection/infected wound, mention of death, lady whump (w/ male whumper), physical violence, betrayal

This chapter is kind of a fun milestone (for me)! When I realized how in love I was in with Will, Bree, & Jamie's story back in October (Whumptober 2022), I became so obsessed that I ended up writing all the way to the end despite (a) knowing there was no way I could post it all for Whumptober and (b) still having more Whumptober prompts to fill for Fen & Freddie and The Curiosity Collector. This is the first part that got written to actually expand the story, not just to fill a prompt! Look how far we've come!

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Word count: 2213 || Approx reading time: 9 mins

Cross My Heart, Hope Not to Die

Teaser: His eyes narrow. “I understand what a deal is, you irritating wench. Now tell me what the fuck you want.” I open my mouth, about to do so, when he adds, “Just remember this, Miss Cooper: I owe you nothing. Do you really think I care what happens to you? If you rot in here or if you hang?”

Bree

I fiddle with the new shackles Hatchett slapped onto my wrists after he unlocked the one chaining me to the wall. I can’t help but wonder what, exactly, he thinks I will do if my hands are free. Despite their batons and metal-studded shoes, the constables seem to be the ones who are fearful all the time.

Not me. I’m not afraid. I’m confident. Positively brimming with confidence—and with secrets. That is the air I try to exude as he pulls me into his office and closes the door.

“Sit.”

He points to the chair in front of me, and I shuffle my way over, doing my best to make the movement look dignified.

Hatchett looks me up and down, the beginnings of a sneer clawing through his mask of solemnity. “Well? What do you want?”

Off to a good start, then. “A deal.”

“I mean,” he says tartly, “what are the conditions of this deal you so desire?” He leans back in his chair. “Because I’m rather doubtful you have anything of value to give me.”

That’s what you think. If I could cross my arms, I would. I settle for a hard stare. Baden Hatchett thinks he knows everything about me. He doesn’t.

He pulls a face, unintimidated. “Cut the bullshit. Start talking, or I’m throwing you back. I don’t have the time or patience for this.”

“I’m not giving up my information for free.” I have no idea, none whatsoever, if this will work. But I have to try. I have to, because if I don’t… “I’m trading it.”

His eyes narrow. “I understand what a deal is, you irritating wench. Now tell me what the fuck you want.” I open my mouth, about to do so, when he adds, “Just remember this, Miss Cooper: I owe you nothing. Do you really think I care what happens to you? If you rot in here or if you hang?”

Of course I’m under no illusions that he gives a damn about my fate. Why should he care?

“That man back there,” I say, hating that my words come out in a near-whisper, “he’s dying.”

He chuckles. “Ah. You’re a medical expert now, are you?”

“No,” I snap. “Anyone with any brains can see it. He’s half-delirious. Your fu… Your medic let his wounds—he—he let them get infected.”

Narrowing his eyes, he asks, “Are you suggesting our expertly trained medic is having trouble performing the duties of his job?”

Regret will surely follow my next words. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.”

“You dare to make accusations against Mr. Gysborne?” I fucking hate the way he’s looking at me as I talk. Still smirking. Like this is funny. Like he knows something I don’t.

“You can’t even control your own staff,” I say. It’s the first remark that comes into my head, no doubt another stupid thing to say that will piss him off. But as he’s sneering at me like that, suddenly pissing him off is the only thing I want to do. “You need to make him do what you’re paying him to do.”

His face darkens, the muscles in his face and neck tugging into rigidity. Ha. I have, indeed, struck a nerve. “Watch your step, Miss Cooper. Perhaps you ought to choose your words a little more carefully.”

Before I speak again, I take a breath. Savour the victory for a few measly moments. “You can’t let him die.”

Cruel laughter curls across his face. “That is precisely what my role is, Miss Cooper. Or were you somehow unaware of the boy’s sentence?”

My skin prickles. “So you’re all right with just…giving up? Letting him die of fever in there? I thought your role was, precisely, to get him to talk.” I swallow the sickly feeling that’s crawling up my throat. “I really thought you’d care more about the glory of being the one to get him to crack.”

Still he is unmoved. Still he seems amused. “So you’re in here today to plead…what? That I should let him live so you can watch him…hang? You want to make sure you’re in the front row? Or perhaps you’d like to be up there next to him?

The very thought makes me ill.

“That is not what I fucking mean.” I ball my hands into fists, bunching the torn and filthy material of the prison uniform. “He’s suffering.”

Hatchett smiles. “Good.”

“It isn’t,” I say through gritted teeth. “Have a heart, Baden, pl—”

The slap is so fast, so unexpected, it doesn’t even hurt—at first. I gasp and clap one hand to my cheek as it begins to sting, the other hand floating awkwardly before me in its manacle. “What the fu—”

“You,” he snarls, every trace of amusement gone, “do not get to call me by my name. We’re not friends. I’m not on your side. You gave up your right to my given name the night you—”

His words die.

Of course. That’s what this is about.

“I’m sorry,” I breathe, not because I mean it—because I’m not fucking sorry I crept away in the middle of the night without even leaving a note—but because I don’t know what else to say that will make him do what I want.

“Don’t lie to me.” Baden Hatchett takes a breath, straightenes his back, narrows his glare. “You said you had information. I will have it.”

All right. This isn’t going how I planned, but…at least I’m getting somewhere. “I told you. A trade. Make Mr. Gysborne do his job properly. And I will tell you all I know.”

“It can’t be worth much,” he says, rolling his eyes. His violent rage has dissipated as quickly as it erupted. There and gone again in the blink of an eye. “You wish him not to suffer, but you’ll betray him and his friends? Either you’re about to feed me lies or the information is so worthless, you’re willing to share. Either way, this is a bluff. Get out.”

He stands up, he reaches for me, he’s about to drag me back, he’s not going to listen.

His fingers curl around my arm. “You don’t know anything. You were just one of their little runners, a lowly thief and nothing more. You weren’t—you aren’t—worth anything to them, either.”

The final word stings more than any strike across the face ever could.

Hatchett’s eyes are cold. He stands tall, back ramrod-straight, not a fold of his blue uniform out of place. His buttons gleam, his hair cropped so neatly. The perfect picture of a constable.

No. He’s a fucking bastard, and we both know it. Respectable, a shining gold example to us all—on the outside. Inside, a rotting corpse, teeming with worms and maggots.

His throat bobs in the moment of silence as he waits for my next argument.

“After running for them for years,” I say, “I know more than you think.”

He scoffs,“I don’t have time for this,” and jerks me toward the door.

“Wait!” The cry spills out of me, panicked now, desperate. “Please. Just…just listen. Hear me out.”

Pathetic. He doesn’t have to say it. I know exactly what I am.

“I know something no other runner knows.” Does it matter if this is true? There are no other runners around to challenge my word. “About the inner circle.”

An eyebrow drifts upwards, skeptical. “Really.”

Nodding, I try to extricate myself from his iron grip, and to my surprise, his fingers uncurl from my arm.

“I know a secret about the leader. The real one.” I’m whispering now. “And I can tell you about how they work. Recruit runners. Pass messages.”

If we are doomed anyway, what is the point of holding my tongue? Fox’s brother is clever enough to have evaded capture and kept IA going for all these years. Surely he has the wits and foresight to be long gone by now. My brother’s going to kill me, he said that night. Who knows what their relationship was like? Perhaps he skipped town the moment he realized Fox had been arrested.

Hatchett says nothing, but he is listening.

“I will tell you,” I say, tears on my cheeks now. How insincere, even fraudulent, they must seem. Why should I cry? What does any of this matter—should it matter, to me? “If you just give him the help he needs. I’ll—I’ll even do it. If Gysborne is too—too—I don’t know, fucking busy, or whatever the reason is he’s been so neglectful, I’ll do it. If you’ll just let me. Give me medicine, clean water, anything.”

This is coming dangerously close to begging.

His face is impassive save for a faint glitter in his grey eyes. “And why are you going to such lengths for this boy who must die anyway, Miss Cooper?”

“He’s in pain,” I say. “It’s not fair.” It’s not right.

A childish sentiment. Pointless words. Hatchett smiles.

“How do you know him? I confess, I am curious.”

“IA. Obviously.” I can’t pull back the second word in time. Hatchett bristles but keeps his temper in check.

“Seems like more than just two thieves passing in the night.” He drums his fingers against the wall, and the sound burrows into my skull. “You’re practically throwing yourself at my feet to save his life, are you not?” There’s disgust in his words, and he’s right to feel it. “That is surely warranted by more than just the incidental acquaintance of two criminals.”

Baden Hatchett has no right to the story I wrote after I ran away, and certainly no claim to the story of that night.

But he is waiting, and watching, and waiting, and he holds Fox’s fate in his hands—and mine.

“He saved my life,” I say, shuddering slightly as the words come out. I do not want him to know anything about the night Fox saved me.

Hatchett’s head tips to one side. “Did he, now.”

Another shiver runs through me. Why do I feel like I have made a terrible mistake?

He moves on as if what I just said means nothing. “Spill your secrets, then.” Dragging me back to the chair, he shoves me hard enough that I practically fall into the seat. “Now.”

“I want your word,” I whisper. “Let me help him.”

“My prison, my rules, Miss Cooper. Speak first.”

More tears slide down my face now, hot and humiliating. What am I supposed to do?

“Fox isn’t the true leader of Iustitia aecum,” I say. Immediately, Hatchett rolls his eyes.

“That,” he says icily, “is abundantly clear. Try harder.”

Just fucking shut up and listen, then. I don’t say the thought aloud. “He answers to someone else. His family. His brother.”

He blinks.

“If you get the name of one,” I say, “you can get the name of the other.”

You’re even more of a faithless minx than I thought. How I hate that Baden turned out to be right.

“You didn’t know that, did you?”

He doesn’t rise to my jibe. “And what, pray tell, is the boy’s name?”

“I don’t know.” Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you—a true invasion, a low to which I will not stoop. Avoiding his glare, I stare down at the scratched, weathered wood of his desk. It has been here for a long time, from the look of it. No doubt it will outlive me.

Hatchett is smiling grimly when I look up again. “You can find out, though.”

It sinks in over the course of several seconds what he’s suggesting. “No.”

“I still haven’t decided what to do with you,” he says. His voice has changed. He is coaxing me. Drizzling honey over every word. “Perhaps I could still be swayed not to send you to the gallows. If you proved still…useful.”

“No,” I repeat. That was not part of the plan. Or the deal.

His head tilts to the side. “Think on it, Miss Cooper. Perhaps you will change your mind.”

I want to run, to get away from him, to get away from the damage I’ve already done.

Becoming Hatchett’s obedient little spy is not going to make that happen.

“You owe me more,” he reminds me. “You want to play nursemaid? IA’s methods, then. Now.”

That is what I promised. But I still hesitate.

“Hurry up, Miss Cooper.” Hatchett sits again and folds his arms. “Or else I might lose patience and throw you back in your cell, alone, so you can watch the boy languish in his fever some more. I’ll have Gysborne keep him alive, but only just. And perhaps in his delirium, he’ll give us the information we need anyway.”

A gamble, and a big one at that. Now he’s the one who’s bluffing. “You won’t risk losing your informant.”

“Try me.” His fingers draw circles in the wooden desktop, impatient and lazy at once. “So you’d best speak up. If he dies of infection anyway while you’re waffling in here, we both lose, don’t we? And if that happens…” He smiles, grim as death and slick as hot oil. “Then your grand betrayal will have been worth absolutely nothing.”

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @gala1981, @kixngiggles .

[Banner ID: A narrow horizontal, rectangular banner featuring a barred archway. The bars and the stone walls evoke the feeling of a dungeon or prison. There are burning candles on either side of the archway. The title of the story, The Prince of Thieves, appears in white text in the centre of the image. The author's username, abbreviated to LPS from littleperilstories, appears in the bottom right corner in partially transparent text. End ID.]

27 notes · View notes

flowersarefreetherapy · 11 months

Text

Hold On: What Did You Learn?

CW: Arguments, fighting, degrading language, angst, Daniel’s going through a time and taking it out on others

You stupid, stupid fool! Thinking you can just come back like that! Thinking he wants you!

Stupid! Useless!

Dumb!

Daniel runs, feet pounding against the sidewalk, lancing pain up his legs. Tears slide down his face, whisked away by the wind. He muffles a scream in the crook of his elbow. The world blurs around him and he prays the ground underneath him will open up and swallow him whole.

He looks up just in time to see a person step in front of him. Daniel yelps, trying to turn away. It’s too late and he knocks into the person.

“Hey!”

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.”

He starts to turn away. Something about the voice is familiar. Daniel freezes, glancing behind him. A man stands there, watching him. Short, dyed locs, a ready stance that screams training to anyone who knows what they’re looking for. His hands clench at his sides. Hands that were touching Star, hands that touched what isn’t his, hands that will never touch Daniel’s bonded again.

“Daniel, right?” the man says. “You were, um, back there.”

“Leave Star alone,” Daniel growls, stepping towards the man. “Don’t you dare ever get close to him again.”

“It isn’t his fault. He didn’t know you were still alive, that you were even coming back for him. If anything, this is your fault. You-”

“I didn’t mean to leave him! I never meant to leave! He’s my bonded! I would never, ever leave him!”

“But you did.”

He says those words so easily, so clearly, as if it is an obvious fact Daniel should be aware of. The words bunch in his throat, desperate to scream them, explain that he never meant to abandon the only reason he has to keep fighting.

“I didn’t mean to,” is all he can manage instead. “I didn’t mean to. Star knows that. He knows I would never leave him.”

The man shrugs. “Perhaps, but that isn’t what he told me.”

Daniel stares him down, fighting against the burning hole growing in his chest. “Why should I believe you? You don’t know him, not like I do.”

“I think I know Star-”

“You don’t get to call him by his name! He isn’t yours!”

“I don’t think he’s yours either. Star doesn’t belong to anyone. He is a free man and he can make his own choices.”

“He’ll choose me,” Daniel growls. “He’s my bonded. He won’t choose someone he doesn’t know.”

The man sighs. Ezra. Right. That’s his name. Important to know the enemy’s name. Important to know their weaknesses too. Daniel hates his first thought, but Star seems to be his weakness. It’s okay. It’s not like his bonded is here. This will be fine.

“I think he knows me well enough now to be honest with me. I know your history together and I know what you’ve done. And none of that scares me.” Ezra smiles and it’s a stupid, heartrending soft smile. The kind only reserved for something important and desired and when was the last time Star looked at him like that? “Star is an amazing man and I’ve gotten to know him very well. I think-”

“He’s not yours!” Daniel screams. “He’s not yours and he never will be! He’s mine!”

“Star is free,” Ezra says. He doesn’t raise his voice and Daniel hates it. “Star is free and making his own decisions and you don’t have a say in what he does now. I understand if he goes back to your relationship–I truly do–but he is the one who has to make that decision himself.”

“You’re forcing him.” It’s better than punching him in the face. His bruises knuckles throb at the memory of hitting another person. “He doesn’t know about what can happen. You’re making him do this. You don’t care about him, you just want a good time, don’t you?”

“What? No, no, that isn’t-”

“Think you can just take advantage of us because we’re Romantics?” Daniel advances on Ezra, venom coating every word. “Think just because you don’t get on your knees gives you the right to have someone else do so? Think you can just have a fun, pretty face to hang off your arm? You don’t care about Star, you just want a sex toy.”

The world snaps out of focus for a moment. Daniel staggers back, hand flying to his face. Ezra’s eyes widen, his closed fist still raised, shock written across his face. They stare at each other for several seconds, the air thick with the sound of heavy breathing. Daniel’s cheekbone throbs with every pulse of his heartbeat.

“Don’t speak about Star like that,” Ezra growls. “If you cared about Star half as much as you claim, then you would never say anything like that. You would respect his decisions and trust him.”

“You have no right to stand here and tell me what to think! You are nothing!”

Daniel raises his own fists. He’s fought and killed and this man is nothing compared to what he has done to be with his bonded. This is just another step in protecting his love.

But what if Star doesn’t want him? What if Star has moved on? What if Ezra is right and he isn’t trusting Star when he should but he can’t trust Star because if his bonded isn’t with him, then what is he?

“I’m not going to fight you.” Ezra’s voice strains, his hands still clenched into fists.

“What? Scared you’re going to lose? Scared you’re going to disappoint my bonded?”

“I don’t want to fight you.”

“Coward. You would never have survived what Star and I went through. You’ll never understand his pain.”

“Perhaps not. Perhaps I won’t understand, but I am willing to learn and willing to help. I am not going to leave him at the slightest hint of trouble.”

Daniel swings his fist towards Ezra’s face. He steps back, keeping his hands in front of his face, raised in protection, stepping back again as Daniel advances. He screams, shouting words at Ezra he can’t hear, acutely aware of the pain in his chest, spreading out and burning away whatever hope survived. Ezra moves back another step, only dodging, never retaliating.

“I hate you!” Daniel screams. “You’re nothing! You’re worthless! You’re nothing but a dumb, stupid pet!”

Ezra jumps at him, locking his arm around Daniel’s throat. He growls and jabs his elbow back. Ezra grunts, easing the pressure just enough. Daniel grabs him, flips him over, pins his arm to the ground. He cries out as Ezra kicks his shoulder and his arm instantly goes numb. Ezra scrambles to his feet and his next hit catches Daniel across the face, pain lancing through his skull as his still-healing wound breaks open.

“Stay away from me,” Ezra growls. “Stay away from me and away from Star if you know what’s good for you.”

Daniel growls. He opens his mouth to speak, but Ezra walks away, leaving him in a dark alley, body and heart throbbing in pain.

Tagging: @blood-is-compulsory @darkthingshappen @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @whumpinggrounds @pigeonwhumps (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

#arguments #fighting #physical violence #degrading language #angst #daniel the protector #ezra my boy #hold on: i still need you #bbu universe #bbu #star’s perfectly fine. Don’t have to worry about him at all

16 notes · View notes