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estro-gem · 5 months

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Jax x Ragatha: Touch

The Amazing Digital Circus AU: Oasis

Author's note: Hey guys! It's bunnydoll time! I hope you have the patience to work your way through this one. I wonder if there are any of you who can remotely relate to the way I wrote Jax to be in terms of his aversion to touch.

Oh well, it's just a story about some fictional characters who aren't even mine. Credit goes to Gooseworx, for creating such fun characters for us to play with.

Hope you enjoy this one! This story was suppose to go into a completely different direction, but that idea can always be explored in the future - when I have the guts to put it on paper.

I'm sure that you don't need the context from my previous work to understand/enjoy this one.

Warnings: None... I think.

SUMMARY:

Jax is suffering from the frustrating effects of touch-starvation, despite his touch-aversion rendering him from doing anything about it. After meeting up with his fellow circus-members, a good laugh and a brief on their new adventure, Jax is given the chance to confide in Ragatha.

TOUCH

It was going to be one of those dreaded days.

Jax was lost in a dream only moments before – one of silky, living fabric with the softest stuffing that rang with a hushed, pleading voice for him and only him. For him to give more and more; and in the dream, he was willing – eager – to provide. He’d rattled the mountains to kneel before a ragdoll only to be brought to his knees himself, all for his little doll to just look at him.

To really just look at him.

Jax closed his eyes again, seeking the warm, fuzzy afterglow of the caresses shared in his lost dream. He desperately tried to sink deeper into his mattress, as he was pressed into the softness of his doll only moments before.

But now he was burning from the inside out.

Red-hot fire nipped and crackled on his skin and yet, Jax wanted to curl into himself and burst into shivers as his heart bashed into his ribcage, threatening to jump out from his throat. The sensations caused him to forget to reign in his breathing, so he was left almost panting, until the sound of his own voice riled him up even more. He sounded so pathetic and desperate in the confines of his own room.

Suddenly Jax’s attention was drawn to his claws, now ripped through his yellow gloves, and digging into his pillow. He pulled back his hands and forced himself to relax his digits enough, to allow the claws to sink back into place; tucked away and safe. The rabbit spied the little holes that his claws left in the plush bedding, feeling the sour taste of guilt invade his being.

That could’ve been Raggs.

Just like that, the sour was drowned in the glowing, shivering heat that trembled through him again. He groaned as he rolled over to sit up on the edge of his bed. He tried to force the thoughts of her eyes out of his head, only to be thrusted into the intrusive impulse of crushing her against him, stealing her breaths.

The bunny laid his face into his hands and felt the sting of tears at the back of his eyes. It’s been a while since he felt like this, and the frustration was getting to him in ways that was almost too embarrassing to acknowledge. Jax knew that he was only going to suffer more once he left the safety of his room and he desperately tried to muster up all the reasons why he shouldn’t leave.

But someone would come knocking at his door if he didn’t – and heaven forbid that it would be Ragatha calling his name from the outside…

Because he might not be able to stop himself from dragging her into his depths only to screaming his name from the inside…

No.

This had to stop.

He was going to be fine, frustration been damned! It was just a bit of an off day, but nothing like he hasn’t lived through before. Yes, Jax was well equipped to handle the tug of war between touch-aversion and touch-starvation for the day. Just one day.

Just like he’d done all the mere handful of times he felt like this since he got here.

Jax lifted his arms to stretch, hearing the ring in his ears as he groaned at the pleasure of relieving his tense muscles. Speaking of stiffness, Jax felt the overall form of his body being a tad bit more defined and firmer than usual. Intrigued by this discovery, he poked at his bicep to confirm that it was as solid as it appeared, before rolling his eyes in annoyance. He must have really been tensed up and… invested… in that dream of his for him to notice it – or maybe his mind was just trying to occupy himself to forget the yearning for his doll’s hands to glide over his skin.

Ugh, it was going to be a rough day…

Whether Jax wanted to or not, he eventually left his room and dragged himself down the empty hallway of many doors. Voices buzzed from the main area, but he was too distracted to single them out, so the bunny was left to the element of surprise. He didn’t mind it too much, as he believed that any conversation would stimulate him beyond the confusing war between the contradicting needs of his body versus his mind.

The itch that only another’s touch could soothe, versus the itch of the unbearable residue that the touch would leave in its wake.

It was pathetic.

Finally met with the familiar figures in the main area, the rabbit’s eyes were pulled and fixed onto a specific scene. He narrowed his eyes, as his mind raced through multiple thoughts, not quite knowing what to make of what he saw.

Pomni and Kinger were off to the side of the main group, seemingly in a conversation that held the keen attention of the jester. She was practically fixated on the oversized chess piece, who by no doubt was talking about something deeper than the ramblings of a madman. Jax spotted mismatched eyes of the king dulled and muddled – and for once, sober. Just then, Jax decided to steer clear of those two, not wanting to rain on the royal’s parade.

It’s been so long since Kinger was as aware as he was now.

Even Jax wouldn’t want to knock down that precious house of cards. When Kinger was oriented, things were just… better in the Circus. It wasn’t something that anyone could explain, but something about Kinger holding out for so long, made life in the Digital Realm seem possible – even when surrounded and inflicted by anything and everything that was impossible. Granted, those sober moments were few, brief and far in-between, but they were there, rooted, and present. Jax recalled many instances where he was met with the elder’s sobriety, only for it to crumble to ash when he attempted to delve into it.

A genuine question asked by Jax in attempt to encourage the continuation of Kinger’s clear mindset, only met with the abrupt cut-off of another startled question by Kinger about whatever was happening at that moment, as if it never happened in the first place.

The snake’s charms were also proven to be ineffective against the royal, barely acknowledging his baiting and deliberate sabotage, but Jax kept hissing and striking regardless. In fact, everyone included Kinger in the happenings of the oasis, regardless of the effectiveness of it all. Anything that anyone could do for another precious moment of clarity from the king, was considered a worthy effort, because if he could make it this far and still have his mind…

Who’s to say they couldn’t make it either – even if only in small, precious increments?

What a shame to see such a precious moment of clarity to be wasted on a stupid waste of space. She had no idea how lucky she was to have that gem in her grimy little grasp.

Jax scoffed; deciding to look to where the rest of the group was situated. His heart clenched at the sight of his girls, watched over by none other than Zooble themself.

Gangle was happily wrapped around Ragatha’s slim frame. He could tell that the ribbon continuously squeezed the doll with a firm, but gentle pressure, just as Ragatha liked it. He heard Zooble mumble teasing comments about Raggs 'stealing their girl' as Gangle nuzzled her face into the top of the doll’s head, burying her face into the red wooly locks with an admittedly cute smile on her face. Sometimes, Jax wished for them to be living another life, where the bunny would be free to just pinch and tug the masked ribbon’s cheeks. He’d make it hurt, that’s for sure!

And then, there was his doll, also smiling and content – at ease in the crushing grasp of Gangle’s magic touch. The doll often sought out the ribbonoid for her infamous squeeze, as they found that Gangle was the best at practicing Ragatha’s occasional need for deep-pressure therapy.

Sure, some time ago, it was a case of desperation on Jax’s part to indulge his doll with his weighted cuddling, but Gangle was the ideal option. He didn’t mind the rare time with his dolly one bit, though. The annoying itch and bother prickling at his skin for the few hours afterwards was all the more worth it to have Ragatha melted and helpless beneath him.

Where she belonged.

Jax felt a warm, but not exactly unpleasant tingling ghost over his lips when his needy thoughts pushed back into his head upon remembering the sensual kiss he left on the inside of her wrist. It was when she wordlessly begged him to have her caress his cheek as her shaking hand hovered in offering for him to accept or reject. He couldn’t ever say no then – he doubted that he’d ever be able to say no to her ever.

Her face… her voice… pleading his name like a prayer...

Stop it.

It’s just worse because of that stupid, unrealistic dream he had before! It didn’t matter how much he dreamt about him sinking and drowning into his doll, because in the waking world, he was just a broken snake that felt the need to shed his skin every time anyone had the mere thought of touching him.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

For the time being, he’d be happy to just live vicariously through Gangle securely holding Ragatha as she sat cross-legged on the floor, while Gangle playfully blew raspberries at Zooble, who could only shake their head in mock-disappointment. It was written all over the ragdoll’s face and evident in the melody of her bright laugh; Ragatha felt safe and content.

That was more than enough for Jax to be happy.

Right?

“Jax! Took you long enough!” Jax was pulled out from his thoughts upon the sound of Zooble’s bored, bossy tone, “You’re lucky Caine’s not here yet. Where were you anyway?”

Jax’s sleazy grin was fixed on his face, trained and trimmed as the snake he was, “Oh, you know… definitely not snooping around you rooms or anything – but hypothetically, if I were, I’m pretty sure I forgot something in one of them, so if you find it, be sure to give me a shout!” He winked.

“Jax, I swear…” Ragatha’s face was pulled into a scowl, but the fire she possessed proved her spirit to shine as bright as ever, “If you rigged my room with firecrackers and smoke bombs again, I am going to lose it.”

“What?” Jax exclaimed in false expiration, “Didn’t you hear me say that it was hypothetical, Dollface? You might wanna get your ears checked, because it seems I left one too many centipedes in your room to crawl into them at night.”

“Oh my lord, Jax stop. Just stop.” Ragatha squirmed to get her arms free from Gangle’s grasp and cover her ears while shutting her eyes, “You are tricking me into thinking that I can actually feel them in my head!”

“I just got her to calm down, Jaaaax!” Gangle whined, switching out her masks to frown properly.

Jax wanted to laugh, but the girl’s whining rang an alarm.

Why would Raggs need to calm down?

He had to be smart about this – the coldblooded snake couldn’t show that he cared, so asking about it was out of the question. He considered using his silence – that always got someone talking.

He raised an eyebrow for good measure.

To his luck, Gangle just knew, as she always did, “She’s feeling a little touch starved today.”

Ragatha opted to cover her face instead of her ears. Her cheeks were glowing red with embarrassment, and she groaned out Gangle’s name to shut the ribboniod up, but the damage was done. Zooble saw Jax perk up more than he probably should have, followed by him sinking into himself like he was dragging dead weight with him. He was struggling to maintain his composure, Zooble thought to themself, surprised that even they were able to read him so easily today.

Meanwhile Jax was suffering from the internal fire that just didn’t seem to leave him be today.

What dumb luck for him and his poor little dolly to be suffering the same fate. He consoled himself that the solution was at least easier for Raggs than it was for him. He had other issues that prevented him from getting the help he wanted. He only wanted his doll’s touch – but even then, he didn’t really want it, either. It felt a bit comforting to know that Ragatha was suffering alongside him, but it killed him that he couldn’t do anything about it!

If he were to indulge in her touch like he did a mere week before, he would probably want to skin himself by the end of it all. The whole situation was bizarre to begin with! It was rare that he craved touch so quickly after such an invasive encounter, but here he was. And there she was.

Even though he knew that they were so different, it hurt a little to think that his touch only satisfied her until now, before she felt near distressed with need again.

And it also hurt that Gangle could replace his touch so well.

It actually hurt a little more than he was willing to admit.

Someone’s eyes were burning into his face and it was enough to have him jump out of his own head, looking over his fellow circus mates to see who’s eyes it was. He was surprised to find his dolly’s eyes peeking through her fingers. When he looked to her, she didn’t avert her gaze, so he had a chance to get a read on her, only for the bunny to find something he didn’t expect.

Ragatha had that yearning look again.

She watched his face very closely, as she slowly lowered her hands from her face, never once glancing away. The doll was calling out to him – he knew she was! His core was invaded with butterflies as she entranced him with that look that she seemed to reserve for him alone. He fell in love with how she silently pleaded for him, only to realize that she was, in fact, silently pleading for him.

He blinked but didn’t stir otherwise, trying to uphold his careless façade.

‘What do you want?’ a single, swift scrunch of his face was all he needed for her to understand.

Ragatha blinked in turn, and after a moment of her tossing her gaze around in search for an answer, her eyes fixed on him… or rather… his legs. His thighs? ...His hips?

Jax wanted to be set ablaze with that thought alone, but at the same time, he couldn’t stop the chuckle that bubble up from his chest. He knew it was unlikely but the thought of Ragatha being vexed by his hips was a hilarious thought at the time.

When Ragatha’s face became adorned with confusion, he flashed her a cheeky smile and swung his hips playfully, if not a tad suggestive. Her eye widened to resemble a dinnerplate before the dam broke and she burst into explosive laughter. It was so sudden that Jax could only bend over and wheeze as Gangle squeaked in surprise.

“I’m sorry!” Ragatha squeezed out in apology to her, but with one look to Jax’s face, laughter erupted from her with a new vigor. As Jax sunk onto his hands and knees, it seemed that he couldn’t risk looking at the doll without laughing either. The situation left Gangle and Zooble glancing between the 2 in the utmost confusion, but they didn’t get the chance to ask anything.

“My, my! It’s sure is a jolly occasion we have here!” Caine’s voice boomed from above, suddenly floating in the space between Jax and Ragatha, “Care to share the joke, folks? The audience would be dying to know!”

“Oh, Caine, hey buddy!” Jax managed to say as he desperately tried to just breathe again, “Don’t- don’t worry about it-” Jax cut himself off with a something in between a whine and a suppressed giggle.

“Yes, it was all just-” Ragatha caught her laugh and offered a moment of silence, before trying to continue in a shaking voice, “Just a misunderstaNdInG.”

Laughter erupted again, though it was more of a chaotic jumble of wheezes and heavy breathing between the bunny and the doll. It was a challenge for Gangle and Zooble not to feel left out, but they found themselves smiling at their friends who were finally blowing off some steam.

For whatever reason they were unaware of…

The laughter eventually died down as Caine enthusiastically explained the adventure he had cooked up for the crew. When he disappeared in a cloud of smoke, the team reluctantly divided themselves into groups of 2, purely based on whomever wanted to team up. The only two who didn’t team up willingly, was Kinger and Pomni, who were the last two left after Gangle clung to Zooble and Jax slide beside Ragatha.

They were chummy before, right? Who better to be paired together than the 2 local nutjobs?

There was a brief commotion of protest and complaining, before the teams departed and split up to perform the silly tasks that were set out to complete the adventure, as Caine described. It wasn’t long before the silence between the bunny and the doll was broken by Jax right after they lost sight of the others.

“So, Dollface, I didn’t take you as the blunt and forward type of gal!” Jax wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, “Unless it’s just ‘cause it’s me and I’m just too irresistible to be taken out to dinner first.”

“Oh, quiet you! I told you that it was a misunderstanding.” Ragatha blew him off, much to Jax’s dismay.

He pressed on with his signature grin fixed on his face, determined to understand, “You told Caine that. You didn’t tell me squat. So? Out with it! What were you looking at? Whattaya want, Doll?”

Ragatha sighed, much like a tired mother would, “It’s fine, Jax, it’s over now. We can leave it be.”

“Nuh uh, it ain’t over. We’re bringing it back, toots!” Jax dismissed her immediately.

But the doll didn’t seem to budge.

“You’d never be able to handle it! You’ll live with the eternal regret for even considering asking.”

Was that a challenge?

“Oh ho ho, darlin’…” Jax tone shifted to a menacing one, causing Ragatha to audibly gulp when he moved to stop her from walking on, looming over her, “You have no idea what you just started.”

She recovered quickly, thinking that Jax was messing around as he usually was, “Jax, we should forget it ever happened. I’m serious!”

“So am I.”

It turns out he was actually serious for once.

“What do you want, Ragatha?” Jax asked in an ominous tone, not giving the doll the chance to digest just how serious he was to use her full name.

It turns out was actually really, really serious for once.

“What does it matter?” the ragdoll breathed, hardly intimidated, yet greatly stunned.

“What do you mean ‘what does it matter?’” Jax shuffled closer to stand inches away, causing for the doll to crane her neck to look up at him, “When you beg for me with that pretty little eye of yours, what makes you think it wouldn’t matter?”

Ragatha felt the familiar rush of heat bite her cheeks as Jax blown pupils pinned her in place. His words could easily just be the words of the snake, but something within Ragatha’s depths wanted to believe that it was only the words of the man before her.

Her man.

“If I tell you what I want, you have to deal with the regret of knowing by yourself.” Ragatha spoke with a calm, steady voice as she prepared for the moment to wither away with the diminished sound of her future confession, “Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Jax murmured, not once breaking his gaze from her face.

Ragatha took a deep breath and looked him dead in the eyes, steeling herself for the disappointment to drag down his spirit. She took only a second longer to appreciate the churring sound of Jax’s teeth grinding within his mouth.

“Your hands.” Ragatha sighed in defeat, “I was looking at your hands.”

Jax didn’t stir or change his demeanor, silently processing the information, “My hands…”

Hands. What could she want with his hands?

Hands grab.

Hands carry.

Hands hold.

Hands touch…

Oh. Oh.

OH!

Realization must have washed over his face, because Ragatha allowed her head to fall forward in regret.

“Do you see now?” she asked with sorrow lacing her voice, “You regret knowing now.”

Jax was silent for a moment, only to softly speak up – almost to himself, “Do you know why I was late this morning?” a beat of silence, “I was dreaming about your hands too.”

Ragatha’s head flung itself up, to look at him in shock, but was met with the saddened expression of the bunny as he continued to speak, “In my dreams, I can’t get enough of them. I can’t get enough of your touch, Raggs.”

The doll’s eye started stinging with tears, but her face remained stuck in shock.

Jax wasn’t finished, “Seeing you enwrapped with Gangle makes me so happy, Raggs. I love seeing my girls take care of each other, but believe me when I tell you that I’m selfish enough to wish that you came to me instead – even if I can’t hold you like she can…”

The silence that followed, stretched a bridge between them.

The ragdoll blinked once before taking the chance to speak, “May I touch you right now? Please?”

More silence deafened them, but a lot was said in the looks they shared.

Jax sighed, bracing himself for the confusing tingles his doll tend to leave on his skin, “...Go on.”

Without knowing what to expect, Jax eyed the movements of her hands, only to see them fold into each other behind her back. The rabbit’s breath hitched as he saw the whole of Ragatha's body move closer to stand against his frame with her forehead resting right under his chin. He violently shivered when he felt the doll’s breath caress his upper chest.

His brain malfunctioned when he felt her soft, warm lips place a long, tender kiss on his sternum.

No itching. No tingles. No burning.

Fireworks.

He huffed out an aspirated breath and allowed his shaky hands to grab at her shoulders to keep her in place when he felt her hastily back away. He proceeded to wrap his arms around Ragatha and crush her against his body, as he did in his dreams, suffering the onslaught of firecrackers and sparks erupting from everywhere their bodies met. Her cheek was pressed against his chest, and she could hear the thundering beats of his heart bashing to break free from its cage.

The sound that left his dolly’s mouth would haunt him for years to come and he couldn’t care less. For the first time since he was trapped in the Digital Circus, Jax was overwhelmed by the white-hot bliss of touch.

...Until it became all too much, all too soon.

And the dreaded itch crawled back into his skin, causing Jax to grab Ragatha’s shoulders again and harshly shove her back and away from him. The poor bunny was panting and trembling as he looked at Ragatha’s face in shock.

She was as frazzled as he was but she recovered quicker to tend to the poor, overstimulated bunny.

“I just want you to understand one thing.” Ragatha spoke between a few harsh breaths as she calmed down, “At times, I may need someone else's touch, but…”

Jax fought to focus his eyes on the woman before him – to indicate that she had his utmost attention, just before she blew all thoughts from his mind as she completed her sentence;

“I will always want you more than anything.”

She didn't need to say more, trusting that he understood her words perfectly.

Unlike a 'need', a 'want' can not be fulfilled.

Oasis: TADC AU list

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promptsforyourwhumpfic · 11 months

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Whump Prompt #1142

Anon said: Need me some touch-starved, happy-go-lucky whumpee finally breaking down when hugged by the caretaker after everything that they went through.

Don’t we all:

“I- I need- I just-” Stammers whumpee. Caretaker wordlessly pulls them into a hug.

The whumpee tries to pull away at first, but when the caretaker puts a hand on the back of their head, the whumpee stills.

Then the whumpee sobs. Literally sobs.

By the end, they’re exhausted and embarrassed, and want nothing more than to crawl into a pit and sleep for an eternity. So the caretaker lets them go.

“Thank you.” The whumpee sniffs. The caretaker nods. “Anytime.”

#whump #prompts #writing #ideas #touch starvation #crying #comfort

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the-three-whumpeteers · 5 months

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The whumpee had a bad habit of getting attached to anyone that showed them even an ounce of affection, and that just got worse after the whumper had captured them. The whumpee just wanted any semblance of comfort after what they went through, and they’re willing to ignore anything just for that.

#whump #whump prompt #whump scenario #whumpee #aramis stabs someone #whump prompts #whumper #touch starvation #past whump

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touch-starved-lurker · 10 days

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nnNnNnnNNnNnnNnnnNn

🥺 just wanna curl up in someones lap with a warm blanket over me and no thoughts or worries or responsibilities or school…

im just a little kittycat why would anyone deprive a little kittycat of snuggles 🥺

#touchstarved #touchstarvation #touch starved #touch starvation #yearning #kittycat #im just a cat #sadposting

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lilybug-02 · 6 months

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Honestly human touch IS very important, and I am so glad you're treating it with care and showing a bit more awareness to it, because some people in my circle just... don't find this important?? And I don't like it at all when people I'm not that comfortable around touch me, even if they didn't mean anything malicious by it. Like I don't hate human touch, it just makes me so uncomfortable and annoyed and mad (i don't know why i get mad, but for some reason i do😭) if I get it from certain poeple.

For example: my dad. He just sometimes randomly pokes me and pats me, and when I lean away from his hands, he just start saying things like 'What, can't I touch you?' and then... proceeds (HOLY SHIT SNOWGRAVE REFERENCE???) to touch me again just to fuck with me :(( I know he means well, it's just udfghaoighhi the fact that he just shrugs off the hints that I'm not exactly comfortable with what he's doing is really not helping with our relationship.

OH MY GOD this turned out to be longer that expected. So yes, what I'm trying to say with this is that I greatly appreciate that you depicted this in such a realistic manner (or that you depicted this AT ALL).

HUMAN TOUCH IS IMPORTANT!!! keep that in mind people

🥺🥺 Of course! I am so glad to shed light on it! 🫂🫂🫂

Physical touch and human interaction are such an important aspect of our lives and both are very overlooked in individualistic societies. Humans are a social and group-oriented species. We need physical touch to feel mentally and emotionally stable! But how we get it and need it is different and special for everyone! Talk with friends/family and start slowly incorporating physical touch somewhere in your life. (I started finally hugging friends in late high school and I found out I actually really like hugging friends! It makes me feel happy!)

I recommend watching this video on Touch Starvation and its effects on Gen-Z by a professional doctor. I legitimately cried in the first few minutes, but it is so important to know!

HUMAN TOUCH IS SUPER IMPORTANT!!! Educate yourself so that you can inspire others to do the same ❤️❤️

#no seriously. I never realized how bad touch starvation is within the united states and so many other places around the world!#Chara is sadly a victim of touch trauma. But that doesn't mean they are unable to interact with others.#They just have specific needs that need to be met. and they aren't afraid to tell the people around them <3 #touch starved #touch starvation #educational #educate yourself #I hope to bring more awareness with mental health stuff through my work. I am so glad you enjoy it #bread #deltarune chara timeline #chara

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ratking-roleplays · 1 year

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Whumper straight up doesn't talk to Whumpee.

Ever.

Whumpee has never heard their voice. More than that, Whumper never touches them without gloves. Whumpee is slowly crumbling under the force of their torture and the sheer isolation, until they're begging Whumper to say something, anything.

#whump prompt #isolation #touch starvation

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mintflavouredwhump · 1 month

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Thinking about a living weapon whumpee who has only known chaos and fear throughout their life, either from their victims or themselves when faced with their boss(es).

They've been physically, mentally and emotionally isolated from the rest of society and as much as they try to cover it all up with apathy, they can't help but want some comfort, someone to hold them and care for them.

#touch starved #touch starvation #living weapon #touch starvation whump #living weapon whumpee #living weapon whump #whump #tw isolation #cw isolation #tw whump #whump prompts #whump scenario #whump inspiration #indu whumps

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redd956 · 6 months

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North [1] (Whump Writing)

I WROTE SOMETHING

Content: Cold Whump, Intimidating Caretaker, Restraints, Captivity, Unnamed Characters, A Pinch of Touch Starvation, Dangerous Weight Loss

"Um... H-Hi." Whumpee squeaked underneath the shadow of their Caretaker.

They heard that their friend's acquaintance was intimidating, but they still did not expect the heavy breathing soldier twice the size of them. The figure's breath left through a respirator in form of thick mist, and an axe was clutched tightly in their hand. They did look very warm though in all that snow protective gear compared to the backdrop of nothing but snow for miles through a hole in the wall.

Wow, whumper really dragged them out into the middle of nowhere huh?

There was no sign of Caretaker's human-ness. All their skin was covered up, and a fluffy winter hat paired with the strange respirator masked their entire head. They simply stood there. They simply said nothing.

Wind fled into the room from the hole in the wall to their cell that Caretaker made. Whumper was going to be real annoyed when they see that. Really annoyed.

Whumpee's skin gained a new reddish hue at the cold's sting. They enclosed their arms around themselves, pressing their rags of clothes to their scrawny form, despite knowing they could bring no heat to their own body. As they did so the chains against them clinked.

Chains... It didn't matter where Caretaker was going to take them, as long as it didn't inquire chains. Their neck felt weak holding the heavy metal brace that once dug into their skin, and now hung loosely.

A mechanical sigh hissed through the respirator as Caretaker lowered to Whumpee's level. Whumpee straightened up their posture as best as possible, and held their head for the embrace of touch, but they still shuddered when thick gloves met the underside of their head.

Caretaker softly prodded their fingers around the area, gently adjusting the direction of their face. The axe even made a quiet clatter when they sat it down. Whumpee failed to resist wincing at the feeling of Caretaker's fingertips brushing against the skin of their neck. The metal brace scraped to the side in careful sporadic intrevals.

Although unable to see Caretaker's eyes, the warmth of a stare buzzed along their collarbone.

With another strange sigh Caretaker rose to their feet, shaking their head, and gripped the axe.

Of course. Whumpee wasn't enough. They were never enough. Why would Caretaker want to take in another mouth to feed? Such a damaged one too? How could they let themselves get their hopes up on the words of a somewhat friend, if Whumpee could even call them that...

At least there wouldn't be chains on the other side. Hopefully.

The chain let out an exasperated urk. Whumpee tried to curl in. Too far from the wall, they could only manage a sort of slouch. Hugging their arms against each other they did nothing but shiver in the coolness of Caretaker's shadow.

They couldn't even look their final killer in the eyes, watching the form of darkness move across the floor. The shadow's arms departed from itself raising an axe high, before-

SNAP!

Bits of shattered chain scattered across the ground. A pinch of sparks followed after them as axe connected to stone flooring. Shaking, Whumpee strained a turn behind them. A severed set of chain links let out a dying breath when a small gust pressed the dust off of them.

Caretaker pulled onto the shortened half connected to Whumpee's neck, debating their satisfaction in its length.

All the wind left Whumpee's lungs as they felt two heavy pats across their back shoulders. Caretaker methodically sifted through the rucksack they brought, dragging out a coat several sizes larger than Whumpee. They kept giving Whumpee a look every time they rubbed at their eyes.

"Thank- Thank yo-you." Whumpee mustered as Caretaker became finally satiated in the amount of bundling up they wrapped their rescue into. Those words were muffled under a thin scarf.

Whumpee tried to show their new acquaintance that they could dress themselves. That went as miserably as it could, the two shiny red scrapes across one shin stood as a token to that. Now Caretaker didn't even let Whumpee try to slip their own respirator on.

Mechanical hissing. Not a chance for another word. Whumpee felt Caretaker's hands slide underneath them, and the iciness of stone was gone... as they were lifted into a bridal carry. Caretaker's gear was so warm, impossibly so.

Caretaker made sure to draw the heavy chains onto Whumpee's chest as to not pull against their neck. They tried to use the same buzzy warmth of a stare to get Caretaker's attention. They wanted to thank this friend of a friend with every ounce of their existence, ignoring their own automatic movements more attune to melting.

Melting into Caretaker's chest, they nuzzled their face against the hot fabric. Their eyes refused to stay open, the eyelids wanted to feel it too.

Caretaker felt frail hands do their strongest at gripping against their chest. A sigh of relief exhaled through the respirators.

#whump #whump writing #cold whump #whumpy things #Im so proud of this #please look at it #intimidating caretaker #caretaker #captivity whump #whump captivity #whumpee #touch starvation #whump touch starvation #touch starvation whump #whump scenario #whump stuff #my worldbuilding #worldbuilding series a

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rxd-flag · 9 months

Text

Dabi with Physical Touch

tags: gender neutral reader, touch starvation, touch aversion, trust issues, enemies to friends to lovers, sfw, fluff, slight angst

🩸 Dabi who’s the resident unapproachable tough guy in the LOV who keeps everyone an arms length away.

🩸 Dabi who fights the urge to hold a pillow to himself while in bed, ultimately leaving the unused pillow across from him the entire night and many nights after.

🩸 Dabi who smokes a cigarette against a railing, fingers brushing over his knuckles in an unconscious soothing motion as he wonders what the fuck he did wrong.

🩸 Dabi who leans against the headboard imagining arms around him he has never known unless he’d pushed himself to fainting. And even then…they’re arms he doesn’t care to be in.

🩸 Dabi who’s so touch starved he becomes touch averse to a degree—all despite knowing if he were held he might just feel himself piece back together; might just think he’s worthy of the fucking air he breathes.

🩸 Dabi who shrugs off any hug and fights not scratching the phantom pressure lingering on his skin.

🩸 Dabi who only wears the softest of clothes that won’t catch on his staples or his skin just wrong. Dabi who stole the smoothest leather he could find just to tear apart and stitch back together to wear in a fucked up reflection of his heart.

🩸 Dabi who watches the new addition to the LOV with intense, sharp azures.

🩸 Dabi who makes you feel like he’s just waiting for you to slip up, to fuck up a mission. Dabi who grates your nerves as much as that unnerving grin that splits staples lining half his face.

🩸 Dabi who you catch sight of in baggy black sweatpants and an oversized grey hoodie at four in the morning with tangled hair. Dabi who wears glasses he hadn’t taken off when he left his room for a glass of water when pausing in a chapter of his most recent read.

🩸 Dabi who scoffs at the shocked look you give in turn to his casual attire.

🩸 Dabi who’s gaze only seems to sharpen further on you when he realizes you’re a core addition to the LOV’s end goal. Dabi who sneaks into your next mission like a perpetual shadow to see you on the field.

🩸 Dabi who’s extensively careful in who he lets even an inch closer to him—mentally and physically. Dabi who walks away when you enter a room for the next few weeks just to separate his overwhelming curiosity about you because he doesn’t fucking understand it.

🩸 Dabi who wonders what your soft hair feels like under his twitching fingers shoved deep into pockets. Dabi who wonders how those hands of yours would feel in his tangled mess. He brushes his hair that night in irritation at himself.

🩸 Dabi who finally runs his fingers through his own hair and feels his own nails scrape along his scalp causing his heart to fracture because it feels so fucking good and what the fuck did he do to deserve the hell in his head.

🩸 Dabi who feels he might shatter with the smallest of touches thus he keeps you away from him lest your fingers manage to somehow brush over his skin and he not hate it.

🩸 Dabi who is assigned to a mission with you. The mission goes well, but the staples under his eyes and along his wrist are askew in a way he can’t fucking stand because he knows his body temperature is too high to fix them himself afterwards. Because he knows you’ll have to do it—that he will ask you to. He’s terrified but he hides it well, terrifyingly so. He asks for your assistance in stapling the skin together (the patchwork Frankenstein monstrosity he’d turned himself into in hopes he wouldn’t want to break his fucking mirror).

🩸 Your hands are soft, tender. They’re not delicate by any means, but he looks at them as if they are. Your touch is warm but cool, a contradiction he’s drawn to. He’s quiet while you work, and so are you. He says his appreciation and leaves as you’re putting away the upgraded first aid kit.

🩸 Dabi’s absence of presence that leaves you wondering what the hell; that leaves you looking up at the ceiling in confusion and more curiosity than you’d care to admit.

🩸 Dabi who goes to bed but doesn’t sleep. Can’t sleep as your phantom touch lingers under his eyes, along his wrists.

🩸 Dabi who walks into the LOV’s makeshift kitchen for coffee; he’s resigned himself to never sleeping again. Only he hears your steps as he’s putting the coffee grains into the filter. He adds another scoop.

🩸 Dabi who reluctantly turns and finds you sitting on the counter behind him, head tilted and it’s fucking cute. He’s smiling before he realizes it. The counter his hands rest on is smooth and cold. He wonders what your soft cheeks would feel like against the backs of his knuckles.

🩸 Dabi who finds he does enjoy your presence—as much as he’d been wary of. Dabi who sinks easily into the banter the two of you bounce on each other. Dabi who finds refuge in it.

🩸 Dabi who you make sure to give as much space as the man gives. Dabi who you also keep at arm’s length because you, as well, suffer from a detrimental case of touch starvation. Dabi who you also find refuge in the easy bantering the two of you begin to form.

🩸 Dabi who’s more than the murderous aura he wraps around him like goddamn bubble wrap. Dabi who’s laughter lights up a room. Dabi who’s smirk ignites electricity in your veins. Dabi who’s eyes wisp around you even when he’s not around.

🩸 Dabi whose fingers are long and calloused. Dabi who you start imagining next to you during menial, daily tasks. Dabi who starts standing next to you during those menial, daily tasks.

🩸 Dabi who you find at midnight smoking against a railing, fingers brushing along his knuckles with a yearning gaze he turns up to the stars. Dabi who doesn’t scratch off the sensation of your hand ghosting over his only to steal his cigarette and take a hit of it for yourself with that signature smile.

🩸 Dabi who asks you to help him with his stitches more regularly. Dabi who has scarred skin across his shoulder, down his back and across his stomach. Dabi who you realize doesn’t want your look of sympathy/empathy when he just leaves after catching sight of it.

🩸 Dabi who wonders what you think of him.

🩸 Dabi who imagines your arms around him as he falls asleep, your fingers running through his now softer strands of hair.

🩸 Dabi who finds you cooking at three in the morning and leans his head over your shoulder to see what you’re cooking up. It’s mac ‘n cheese and his laugh rumbles in your ear. Dabi who you share the cheap side dish with.

🩸 Dabi who finds himself coming out of his room as he smells food in the air and imagines you already there. You usually are. Dabi who smiles and walks up, who gradually over time rests his head there on your shoulder, who slowly, carefully wraps his arms around your waist.

🩸 Dabi whose arms around your waist keeps you up, who holds you down and makes you forget the world exists for a few short hours. Dabi who holds you long before he lets you hold him.

🩸 Dabi who shivers every time your fingers sift through his hair, who’s breath catches as the nails drag over his scalp. Dabi who chews his lip and feels his cheeks warm when your fingers brush along his back and chest.

🩸 Dabi who covers your hands when your touch is too close to something he can’t handle. Dabi who’s heart clenches when you relent and respect the boundary.

🩸 Dabi who falls for the comfort and security you give him long before he realizes. Dabi who finds a safety net in you that terrifies him, but then those fingers brush over his skin, his hair and he’s giving in entirely too easy.

🩸 Dabi who trusts you.

🩸 Dabi who asks you to hold him one night with his heart in his throat and gaze trained on the wall in fear of rejection. Dabi whose movements are jerky as he tries to relax himself in your arms that slide around his waist, legs that cage him in on either side. Dabi who relaxes almost immediately against your chest when your fingers slip through his hair. Dabi whose head buries into your shoulder and neck as he exhales slow and steady.

🩸 Dabi who will wake from the nap that induces and second guess every decision he’s ever made with you because you’re ingrained into his bones now and he’s terrified. Dabi whose fingers tremble when you just tug him tighter, closer, more securely to yourself.

🩸 Dabi who falls for you like an anchor to water.

#dabi #bnha dabi #dabi headcanons #dabi my hero academia #dabi todoroki #dabi x reader #mha touya #dabi is touya #touya todoroki #bnha touya #touya x reader #touch starvation #touch aversion #ptsd undertones #headcanon #touya headcanons

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neutronice · 11 months

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Walls

I wonder if Victor was careful about touching Yuuri after the beach. Because Yuuri said so plainly "when people push my boundaries I push back."

And Victor heard those words and thought "he wants to let me know I've been pushing his boundaries".

It must have been hard, for both of them, to be so close to those touches yet so far away, because Yuuri opening up was mistaken by Victor for Yuuri shutting him down.

I wonder how long it took for them to start touching each other again, for the affection they felt so deeply for each other to flow freely again.

Were there moments where it broke through, when Yuuri didn't think and leaned against Victor after a long day and Victor just melted into the contact. Did their hands linger too long on a coincidental touch?

Did Yuuri extend those moments as long as he could when they came too, because he didn't realize that his words had unintentionally thrown a wall up with Victor on the other side?

I think the changing of expectations and the breaking of that wall was gradual. It eroded away with every lingering touch, with every sidelong glance, with every moment that they melted into each other. Until it was as if there never was a wall in the first place.

#yoi meta #victuuri #viktuuri #touch starvation #victor deserves a million hugs

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whumpster-dumpster · 2 years

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Touch starved Whumpee feeling guilty about asking or imposing on Caretaker for affection, and Caretaker noticing. Patiently, wordlessly opening their arms, ruffling their hair, interlacing their fingers, nudging their foot under the table, lifting the edge of the blankets so they can cuddle up 💕

#whump #whump prompt #writing prompt #touch starvation #caretaking #cuddling #soft whump

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warmblanketwhump · 1 year

Note

hiii love your drabbles so much, can you write something where a touch-starved character gets hypothermia and their teammates have to wrap them in a blanket burrito and cuddle them to warm them up? maybe they could take a cozy group nap together too '

thank you! here ya go!! ❄️

“Shhhhhh, bring them in here.”

“They’re blue.”

“I need warm blankets in here as fast as possible.”

“How did they last that long out there?”

“Because they’re a fighter, that’s why.”

B’s far too out of it to know who said what. The only present thought in their mind is cold.

Deep, bone-aching cold.

The fire within them died ages ago as they struggled to stay afloat in the icy water, trying not to sob as they screamed for help. Their limbs had lost all feeling, and their pleas had fallen to soft whimpers as they’d surrendered to their fate.

A fate they’d face alone, like they’d faced most things in their short life.

It was harder to face the end now, because for a brief moment, they’d had a glimmer of what belonging felt like. They were new to the team, lingering on the edges, trying to work up the courage to let themselves get closer and be a part of this complicated tangle of people, so different and yet so accepting, so welcoming, so close. People constantly leaning on one another, scooping each other up and carrying them around, curled up together on a couch watching something together, affectionate shoves and ruffles of hair.

At first, it had all just been too much for them. They’d flinched hard the first time A had reached for a hug, and A had snapped their hand back, face blushing and apologetic. From then on, the team was welcoming, full of kind words, but the offers of physical touch faded as B made their discomfort with it clear.

But lately, something strange had been transpiring in their body. A restlessness in their limbs, a buzzing feeling in their nerve endings, a pressing ache in their chest that felt a little like they were dying inside.

After several weeks, A realized that what they felt in their chest wasn’t fear—it was longing. They were desperate to be a part of the thing they’d cut themselves off from, but they didn’t know how to ask—so they resigned themselves to hugging their knees to their chest, inches apart from everyone else piled together on the couch, wondering if anyone would mind if they leaned their head on their shoulder.

They’d been working so hard to build up their courage. Just that last night, B had been on the verge of asking for a hug—something to soothe the anxious ball of nerves that had risen in their stomach at the thought of the mission at hand. But the mission alarms had sounded, and they’d missed their last chance. And now, they wouldn’t get another.

What would it have felt like? To be held like that? To hear the soft thud of someone’s heartbeat against your ear, the circle of someone’s arms clutching you close to their warmth as they cradled your head and buried their face in your hair?

It was something B would never know, but the thought was nice to dwell on in these last few moments. A hug. A warm, soft, hug, instead of these glass knives stabbing their every limb.

As they felt themselves fading away, they wondered if they were dreaming the shouts they heard.

———————————————

The next moments passed by in snapshots. A flash, then strong arms gripping them, pulling their soaking frame into the boat. Frantic hands tugging at frozen clothes, complicated by B’s stiff limbs. A rattling noise that they’d realize later was the sound of their own teeth chattering. The sound of the boat hitting land.

A few more flashes - out of the boat, in someone’s warm arms, a dry coat placed over them, being transported, cold, cold, cold….

After a while, the snapshots string together into sequences - being eased onto a soft bed, cold wet skin dried and covered in warm blankets, a warm hand pushing frozen hair off of their forehead, the sound of someone crying softly in the distance. And shivering. So much shivering.

When B finally has the strength to lift their heavy eyelids, their first sight is of the faces, several of them tear stained, all of them watching them intently. They’re wrapped in half a dozen blankets, propped up in a large, unfamiliar bed, while a large fire blazes in the nearby fireplace.

B can’t form words between their shivers and chattering teeth, but they’re awake enough to feel the soft, warm pajamas they’re now dressed in and the thick wool socks over their cold feet. Even so, their body’s internal heat seems to be switched off, pure ice in their veins. Under a pile of warmed blankets, hours after being rescued, they don’t feel warm at all. And there’s a constant shiver in their core that they can’t seem to stop. They’re so tired, and so, so cold.

“You scared us, B.” A’s voice cracks, and the other members of the team nod furiously.

B clutches the blankets closer to their chin, trying to hold the warmth closer to their chilled body, when they see A’s hand, white-knuckled and twisted in the top blanket on their bed, inches from their own.

They’re waiting for an invitation.

Slowly, shakily, B reaches their cold hand from under the blankets to place over A’s. A’s vision snaps up, and B tugs at their hand, more than a little desperate.

“Please. C-closer. M’ so c-cold.”

That’s all it takes for A to gently slide into the space next to them on the bed, slipping under the blankets and curling their body next to B’s, cocooning their trembling body in warm arms. The rest of them follow suit, until they’re wreathed in a tangled mess of warm limbs and sleepy bodies, each jostling for a place closer to them. B’s neurons nearly explode at the touch.

A shifts closer, cupping a hand around B’s head and pulling it closer. “This okay?”

B nods furiously, already feeling a warmth unlike anything they’ve ever felt before blooming in their chest and flooding their limbs. They’re totally surrounded by people they care for more than anything in the world, and it’s better than they could’ve ever imagined.

“We’ll warm you up, B. Don’t you worry,” a sleepy C mumbles from somewhere down in the pile.

Despite C’s promise, B’s bone-cold for two more days - a deep, lingering chill that’s only eased by someone’s warm body pressed against theirs - and they stay bundled up in bed to preserve the meager warmth. The rest of the team gets the bright idea to take shifts with them, but the “shift” idea soon fades because no one wants to leave once their turn is up, and the whole team ends up on the bed by the day’s end. Sometimes they talk, or read a book out loud, but mostly B just craves the warmth being held. After years of loneliness, they can’t get enough.

It shouldn’t make any sense. B’s exhausted and weaker than they’ve ever been in their life, and they’ve never been happier.

It’s late now, the remainder of the fire burned down to coals, and everyone’s brought their own pillows and blankets to spend the night. B’s mostly recovered, by now, but they don’t want to say anything out of fear of losing this thing they found.

“Your hands are finally warm,” A mumbles, wrapping their own hands around B’s. B’s stomach drops. Caught.

“Y-yeah…..I guess so. If that means….you want to go back to your own bed…”

A snorts. “Are you kidding? You’re never getting rid of us now.” They shift slightly, allowing B to ease their head on their chest. “Unless you want us to go—“

“No.” B’s hand fists protectively in A’s shirt. “I mean…I don’t mind. This. All this.”

B could be imagining, but they think they hear relief in A’s next sigh as they raise their hand to B’s head, threading their hand through their hair. “We’re never gonna leave you, B.”

B swallows the lump in their throat as they hug A hard, and B feels A’s arms tighten back.

Warm. Safe. Loved. Was there anything better than this?

#touch starved #hypothermia #warming up #touch starvation #soft whump #bit sloppy but I’m BACK 😂

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whumpacabra · 1 month

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New Tricks

Angst, crying, exhaustion, fever, touch starvation, scars, local anesthetic, stitches, painful wound treatment, pain medication, needle mention, fear of electrocution, anticipated violence, referenced character death, past torture, implied past noncon

[Directly follows Bad Dog]

The Wolf waited. He drank every second of gentle touch he could get and he waited for the price to be exacted on his already rent flesh.

It never came.

He cried himself to exhaustion, nauseous with the knowledge he was too tired, that it would kill him to take any more punishment. (He didn’t want to die.) But the hands that pulled his tear stained face from the agent’s tear soaked shirt were gentle, holding his jaw like it was a fragile thing. And the eyes looking down at him - alien with their pity - had no sharp edges trying to cut into his own pain glazed eyes.

“I - I have a medkit. Would you - do you need help, stitching up your back?”

The Wolf stared up at him, too tired to process the words beyond ‘help.’ He didn’t get help - he got treatment. He recovered enough to be broken again. But there was a finality to the way this man said that word, like it meant something more than a temporary state of being.

“Okay. I’m - I’m just going to get my medkit, alright? Alright.” Jackson was talking more to himself, and the Wolf was fine with that. The words were starting to blur together, the sound of a particular voice that didn’t come with hurt or insults or harsh hands. Jackson’s gentle hands propped the Wolf against the edge of the tub, an arm draped over the side and his head resting against the cool false porcelain plastic. He was so fucking cold. He just wanted to curl up somewhere warm and sleep.

(He wanted to crack open Jackson’s rib cage and slot himself between his lungs.)

He was shivering intermittently when Jackson returned (had he been gone long?) but the Wolf was just happy to have that warm presence hovering near him again. The agent sat beside him, the space between the sink and tub a cramped and uncomfortable place to fit two grown men, but the Wolf didn’t mind.

(How odd, that just hours before he would dread having another warm blooded body close to his, and now - now, with this one, he wanted to cling to that warmth like a leech.)

The click and snap of a syringe being prepped had the Wolf open his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at Jackson, who offered a nervous smile.

“It’s a local anesthetic - is that alright?” The Wolf blinked at him, and then looked away. He didn’t know how to answer questions about his comfort, his wants. (He just wanted to sleep.) The kiss of the needle was expected, but the bloom of cool numbness it bestowed where it pricked his back was a welcome surprise.

“I’m - I need to clean these. Even with the anesthetic it might hurt.” The Wolf could feel those alien eyes watching the back of his head, so he nodded. “Sorry.” Jackson had nothing to apologize for.

The sting of antiseptic was absent, but the pressure and prickle of exposed flesh being prodded and debris teased away was a familiar sensation. His handler had cut into him on the first night, reckless with rage. The Wolf tried not to dwell on the memory, but a tremor shivered up his spine as Jackson worked, gentle hands pausing.

“Are you alright?” Another nod. Another soft ‘sorry’ that felt unwarranted. It was the Wolf’s fault for being weak. He tried to focus on the steady rhythm of Jackson’s stitches, oddly difficult to anticipate with his pain numbed flesh.

Three days of those deep cuts left exposed, open to the air and sweat and worse. They would scar, badly, like the cuts that ran from his right hip to his spine, skin ridged and thick with scar tissue. His handler wanted them to scar badly. He wanted the Wolf to remember - to remember that he -

A sob caught in his throat, the shock collar still heavy around his neck. It wasn’t set to voice activation - he didn’t think it was - but it had shocked him earlier. Had his handler done that? Had his handler survived and was watching and would kill Jackson or have him kill Jackson and - ?

“Easy love, I’m almost done. You’re doing so well.” A voice so soft and so different from the barking orders and snarled insults he was acclimated to. The Wolf blinked away fresh tears, struggling to find his voice, a hoarse whisper rising from his ragged throat.

“Is he dead?” Three little words; a question he couldn’t stand to know the answer to. A question he needed to know the answer to if he ever wanted to sleep again. Jackson’s hands, cold - so cold against the Wolf’s burning, numbed skin - stilled, a steady palm pressed to a small expanse of uncut flesh. But not too hard, mindful of his bruises.

“Yes. Agent Smith is gone. He’s dead.” The Wolf could hear a question in those words, but he was too relieved to consider it. Jackson - anyone - could kill him, let him die badly, alone, and bloody, and he would die happy. He outlived his handler. A victory he didn’t know he needed.

Jackson resumed his steady handed stitches, and the Wolf let his head drop, thoughts running watery and disconnected. The hum of the light above. The creak of the window pane holding back the wind. The footsteps in the room above - light, belonging to a child, a bed creaking and muffled voices soft with sleepy affection.

“You’re warm.” He sure as hell didn’t feel warm. The Wolf looked over his shoulder at Jackson, instinctively flinching as a hand came toward his face, but he relaxed into the icy touch pressed to his forehead. He almost missed it when it left. “Here, are you allergic to Advil?”

The Wolf looked down at the red pill and the almost comically small paper cup with a swallow’s worth of water. His stomach ached, hunger and nausea fighting for recognition even as he downed the medication and splash of liquid. He had taken harsher drugs with less in his stomach. (Not that what was roiling in his gut was pleasant or nutritious.)

With a shudder he rested against the tub once again, Jackson’s hands and sterilizing wipes traveling away from the oldest, deepest cuts. The antiseptic stung, a familiar pain that burned like acid over his wounds. But Jackson didn’t linger, didn’t press the antiseptic deeper into his flesh. He stitched the deepest wounds, bandaged the rest, and worried over surface level burns as though the Wolf could still feel them after the years of his handler’s habit leaving its mark.

By the time Jackson was putting away his medkit, the first grey glow of dawn was seeping through the rain dappled window. The Wolf hadn’t moved in hours, sitting still and as comfortable as he could be while Jackson worked. He was so tired. And when he limped out of the bathroom after Jackson, there was a wonderful nest of blankets and pillows waiting on the soft carpeted floor.

“You take the bed, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor - besides, your back could…” Jackson trailed off as the Wolf wandered to the crude bed on the floor, dropping harshly to his knees and collapsing into the softness.

In his daze of exhaustion, he barely registered the anxious horror of knowing Jackson wanted him on the bed. That was a problem for a well rested Wolf. That was something he could handle tomorrow, that he could survive tomorrow, that he could stomach tomorrow.

Right now, there was a soft surface below him, a heater humming to his right, and a painlessness to his injuries that should have frightened him.

But he was too tired, so he slept.

[Directly before In for a Penny]

(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)

Taglist: @stargeode

#whump #angst #crying #exhaustion #fever #touch starvation #local anesthetic #stitches #painful wound treatment #pain medication #needle mention #shock collar #past torture #implied past noncon #anticipated violence #referenced character death #freelancers #shhhh he eepy <- my sleep schedule is so fucked. why do town council meetings run until 1 AM.#(it is kinda my/our fault for pestering them abt [redacted] buttttt whateves.)

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