#whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like...my THING

[whump-tr0pes]

Aqua Sancta

Lux in Tenebris masterlist here

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 of a (no longer little) arc of Dee having a fever

This comes about a month or so into the First Recovery arc.

Author’s note #1: Thank you so much to the kind reader who left a wonderful comment on this fic on AO3 and singlehandedly resurrected this arc after almost two years. People don’t realize how some kind words can inspire someone to write again even when the Juice(TM) isn’t flowing like it used to.

Author’s note #2: This chapter is heavily inspired by a piece written in response to this prompt. I was so sad to discover that the blog has since been deleted, taking with it one of the whump pieces that absolutely got me my start.

Content warning: sickfic, fever, delirium, demon whumpee, past torture, nonsexual nudity, misunderstanding whump, language whump, past religious abuse, religious themes, past burns, ‘it’ as a pronoun, past drowning, manhandling, begging for death

~

The demon was screaming. Ilya had never heard such a sound in their life. It was as if an animal was being torn apart, horrible broken wails piercing their skull and making their skin crawl. They forced themself not to slap their hands over their ears, forced themself instead to hold their hands out to the demon that was crouched against the bathroom door.

It – he – was naked, bathed in sickly sweat, his eyes wild and fixed on the bathtub filled with water. Gooseflesh rippled over his body as he huddled and twisted away from Ilya. His fangs were descended and bared, but he cowered away, fingernails scrabbling at the door. Dara stood at Ilya’s shoulder. She drew in a deep breath, let it out. The smell of ozone momentarily washed away the smell of sweat and fear in the bathroom.

“Dee, please,” Ilya breathed. “We aren’t going to hurt you. You just… you just need a bath, Dee. You’re sick. We just need to bring your fever down.”

Fevered eyes locked on Ilya’s.

“Non intellego,” Dee sobbed, voice strained and broken. “Non intellego, obsecro ignosce me, obsecro, numquam ego facito iterum, obsecro dice m-mihi quid feci iniuriam, numquam ego facito iterum—”

Ilya glanced at Dara. “What—”

“It’s begging again,” Dara said through her teeth.

Ilya took a hesitant step forward. “Dee, no—”

They were cut off by a heart-rending shriek. “NON. Non facio… Si vis recitare verba tui ordinis, ero… Est…? Pater noster, qui es in cœlis—”

“We don’t need you to recite the goddamn Pater Noster, demon,” Dara said through her teeth. “Is that what they…? Jesus Christ…”

“Wh-what?” Ilya breathed.

“—sanctificetur nomen tuum: Adveniat regnum tuum—”

“Stop,” Dara ordered. The demon’s recitation ceased, but it continued to whimper and sob with every shuddering exhale.

“What is it?” Ilya said, glancing between Dee and Dara. “What is that?”

“It’s the Lord’s Prayer,” Dara said darkly. “It’s part of the catechism. Normal shit for us, but… if demons are around when that stuff is said, it hurts them. And if he was forced to… recite it… Jesus fuck, is there nothing these motherfuckers didn’t do to him…”

“Obsecro,” Dee sobbed. “Miserere, angelus virtute, faciam quod vis, sed obsecro, ni aqua sancta, faciam QUID…”

“Shush,” Dara snapped. She rubbed her temple. “It’s probably almost as painful for him to recite the catechism as it was to be burned by the holy water.”

“Oh, no,” Ilya whispered. They pressed their hands to their mouth. “Dee…”

The demon looked at them blankly, eyes wild, chest heaving. “Obsecro,” he rasped. “Obsecro, virtute.”

Ilya took a shaking breath. “So what do we…?”

“I think we just… do it,” Dara said. Her jaw worked. “It’s not going to understand until it’s actually in the water. Not in its current state of mind.”

“H-his,” Ilya breathed, trembling. They blinked tears away and swallowed hard. “H-he said that they… m-made him drink it, too.”

Dara could have been made of stone beside him – a statue on one side of the room, a snarling creature on the other. An eternity seemed to pass before she shook herself and muttered, “I’m going to slaughter those motherfuckers someday.”

Ilya spared a glance at her. “But—”

“Let’s just handle this right now,” she said with a bite to her voice. “Let’s just… get them… him… feeling better. We need to get this fever down. It might be why he’s acting like this in the first place.” She adjusted her soft leather gloves. Ilya nodded took a step towards the demon.

His slitted pupils blew wide. He snarled and snapped at them.

Ilya gasped and fell a step back. Even though there was still a full step between them, there had been power in the bite.

“D-Dee,” Ilya breathed.

Dara huffed out a breath. “That’s enough,” she grumbled. She strode forward and seized the demon with her gloved hands.

The demon let out a scream that lanced Ilya down to their soul. They could do nothing but watch as Dara took Dee’s wrists in one hand and wrapped her other arm around his chest, holding him tightly against her so that he could not turn his head far enough to bite her. He twisted and writhed in her grip.

“NON,” he shrieked. “NON, OBSECRO!” He snapped uselessly at the air and kicked out at nothing.

“Dee, it’s… it’s okay,” Ilya said weakly, reaching out a hand to comfort him.

“No,” Dara snapped. “He’ll bite.” Ilya drew their hand back. Dara effortlessly carried Dee, screaming and writhing, to the bath.

“OBSECRO, OBSECRO, NECA ME, EGO MORTI DE MANIBUS LIBENTER, OBSECRO VIRTUTE, OBSECRO.” Ilya’s head was throbbing with Dee’s screams. Dara lowered Dee over the bath. He drew his legs up to his chest, suddenly trying to cling to her. He sobbed his heart out and tried to bury his face against her shoulder. She held him out away from her, avoiding his teeth.

“Dammit,” she breathed.

“Just do it,” Ilya said flatly. Their chest ached, but they forced themself to look at Dee. For a brief moment, he locked eyes with them over Dara’s shoulder.

“Ilya,” he croaked. “Help me.”

Ilya bit their lip and looked away. Dara held the demon out away from her and quickly lowered him into the lukewarm bath.

The demon convulsed with a scream when he hit the water. Bathwater spilled over the side and onto the tiles. Dara kept a firm grip on his wrists and on the back of his neck as he scrambled to escape the bath.

Ilya rushed forward and fell to their knees beside the tub, no longer caring about the risk of Dee’s fangs. Dee’s hands were balled into terrified fists in Dara’s grip, but Ilya covered his hands with their own.

“Dee,” they said urgently. “Dee, look at me. Feel the water. Is it burning you?”

Dee whimpered and found Ilya’s eyes, confused and frightened out of his mind. He shivered under Dara’s hands and froze. Ilya could tell that her grip on the back of his neck would leave bruises.

“Careful, Ilya,” Dara said through her teeth.

“I am being careful,” they said back, quelling their anxiety, the anger that flared when they saw how tightly Dara was still holding Dee even though he was no longer fighting her. They reached out a shaking hand and stroked it through Dee’s hair. It was soaked with sweat and splashed bathwater. “Dee,” they murmured. “It’s okay. We would never, never hurt you.”

Dee’s throat worked. He blinked, his chest still heaving. Slowly, slowly, he pushed his head against Ilya’s hand. The same rumbling sound Ilya had heard before filled the small room.

Dara blew out a breath. Dee turned away from it and blinked as if she had breathed cigarette smoke in his face in the close quarters. As slowly as Dee had moved towards Ilya, Dara released his wrists and neck. There were bruises where her fingers had been. Ilya swallowed hard and tried not to look.

All at once, Dee slumped against the side of the bath. Dara’s hand shot and seized his hair as if she was about to restrain him again. Ilya shot her a glare, and she returned the look. Ilya quailed and shifted their eyes away. Dara released Dee’s hair and stood.

“I’m staying in here,” she said firmly. “In case he… gets frightened again.”

“That’s fair,” Ilya said. They gave her a grudging nod. “I get it.”

“Eva is changing the sheets right now,” Dara said. “And after we get him back in bed, we can feed him. I think that will help a bit.”

“Yeah,” Ilya said distractedly as they drew their fingers through Dee’s tangled and sweaty hair.

“Ilya,” Dara said, and Ilya looked back up at her. Her brow was furrowed. “It… it is dangerous. You know that.”

“He,” Ilya said as they set their jaw. They looked back down at Dee. He was shivering violently, but he seemed so exhausted that he could barely hold onto the side of the tub.

“He,” Dara corrected. “Sorry. Old habits. But my point still stands.”

Ilya nodded. “I know,” they whispered, and the admission burned their tongue like guilt. “But he’s dangerous because he’s scared. And I…” Finally, they raised their gaze to Dara again. “If I can, if it’s… possible, for him, I want to show him he’s safe. And that he doesn’t have to be scared anymore.”

The demon under Ilya’s hands moaned softly and heaved a wracking cough.

  Translation of the Latin lines here:

“I don’t understand,” Dee sobbed, voice strained and broken. “I don’t understand, please forgive me, please, I will never do it again, please tell m-me what I did wrong, I will never do it again—”

…

They were cut off by a heart-rending shriek. “NO. I don’t… If you want me to recite the words of your order, I will… Is that…? Our Father, who art in Heaven—”

…

“—hallowed by Thy Name: Thy Kingdom come—”

…

“Please,” Dee sobbed. “Have mercy, virtue, I’ll do whatever you want, but please, not the holy water, I’ll do ANYTHING…”

…

The demon looked at them blankly, eyes wild, chest heaving. “Please,” he rasped. “Please, virtue.”

…

“NO,” he shrieked. “NO, PLEASE!” He snapped uselessly at the air and kicked out at nothing.

…

“PLEASE, PLEASE, KILL ME, I’LL DIE AT YOUR HAND GLADLY, PLEASE VIRTUE, PLEASE.” Ilya’s head was throbbing with Dee’s screams. Dara lowered Dee over the bath. He drew his legs up to his chest, suddenly trying to cling to her. He sobbed his heart out and tried to bury his face against her shoulder. She held him out away from her, avoiding his teeth.

Continued here

@womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck,  @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood,  @inky-whump,  @orchidscript, @inkyinsanity, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pebbledriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump, @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather, @butwhatifyouwrite, @carnagecardinal, @laves-here, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @wolfeyedwitch, @batfacedliar, @also-finder-of-rings, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @extrabitterbrain

#lux in tenebris #whump #sickfic #fever #delirium #demon whumpee #past torture #nonsexual nudity #misunderstanding whump #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like... my thing #language whump #past religious abuse #religious themes #past burns #'it' as a pronoun #past drowning #manhandling #begging for death #bathtime for the demon boy

[pigeonwhumps]

Favourite flavours of whump

Whumpmas in July: Day 11

Whumpmas in July masterlist

The ice cream of whump!

It's 1am and 24°c. It's way too hot, so I'm thinking of ice cream. The flavours are... well... my main favourite flavours, and the toppings are more specific tropes etc. The location/size of each one doesn't correlate to how much I like it, it's just where I put it on the ice cream. Just like with ice cream though, I'm not fussy!

Details under the cut.

Pet whump

The recovery part. Getting an owner that helps them rather than hurting. Living with a caretaker who they're convinced is a new whumper. Gradually learning. Learning that their caretaker will help, learning to act like a person again, beginning to believe that they won't be hurt. Doing things for the first time, or the first time in a long time. Caretaker fucking up at times, hurting them accidentally, and it going wrong but it's just a mishap, it turns out ok (even if it takes a while). Kind of goes with recovery whump in general tbh, which is also one of my favourites.

Alternatively, while they're still with Whumper. Behaving like an animal, perhaps believing they're one. Collared, crawling, dog bowls, etc. The brief moments of care. Humiliation and then... not so much, not bc they're being treated well but bc they're now used to it.

Non-human whumpee

Discrimination. Experimenting upon them (to find out about them, or just bc they can). Treating them as pets. Torture. Not bothering to use anaesthetic or painkillers or anything like that, bc "they're not human anyway, why does it matter?" Misunderstandings. Caretaker trying their best but unable to make themself understood, hurting Whumpee by accident. Having to get creative in communication (for whumpers, whumpees and caretakers). Do non-human whumpees struggle in normal environments for humans? Plus, get creative with anatomy!

Medieval whump

Torture. Dark, dank dungeons. Operations without anaesthetic. Public whippings. The stocks. Hoping whumpee will make it through the night, without modern medicine. Chains and horses and rope. I love medieval whump.

And now for the toppings.

Whumpee believes Caretaker is their new Whumper

Specific? Yes? *Chef's kiss*? Also yes.

Whumper standing on Whumpee's back to hold them down

Or front. Front will do too. Just... that position. Holding them down with barely any effort. Press down just a little more and Whumpee won't be able to breathe.

Whumpee's ill and delirious and Caretaker finds out something that happened that they didn't know about

Did they know the basics but Whumpee hid this specifically? Did they get pissed at Whumpee for running away and now discover they were kidnapped, tortured? Scars discovered maybe, at the same time? Is Whumpee hallucinating? Do they think they're Whumper?

Whumpee casually shares something really fucked up from their past and Caretaker's like "uh. Wtf?"

Does it make Whumpee realise that what happened to them was fucked up? Do they argue? Dismiss caretaker? What happened?

Whumpee gets comfort for the first time in their life/in a long time

Do they understand? Do they break down? Can they cope? Give them a hug, a teddy bear, a blanket, good food. I love it!

But like I said, I'm not that fussy.

@whumpmasinjuly

#whumpmas in july #wij2022 #wij day 11

[whump-tr0pes]

Naming

Lux in Tenebris masterlist here

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 of a little arc of Dee having a fever

Content warning: sickfic, fever, delirium, broken whumpee, dehumanized whumpee, past torture, past burns, ‘it’ as a pronoun, past death, past drowning

~

The pipes creaked somewhere in the house while Dara drew the bath. Ilya stayed by the demon’s side, sitting with it, their back against the headboard. Its head was in their lap, its hand kneading Ilya’s leg as it drew in shallow, quaking breaths and let them out. Ilya gently ran their fingers through the demon’s hair, wincing at how its skin burned under their touch. Its sweat soaked into Ilya’s jeans.

The demon’s throat clicked, and it whimpered softly. The sound was raw, broken. Ilya chewed their lip as they reached for the cup of water on the nightstand.

“Come on,” they murmured as they brought the cup to the demon’s lips.

The demon flinched, whining softly, its body going rigid. Ilya gently steadied its head and held the cup to its lips again. This time, shaking, whimpering, the demon drank – a little at first, then in needy gulps, until it had drained the cup. It moaned as Ilya took the cup away and set it back on the nightstand.

“Y-you are merciful,” the demon croaked. Its hand went back to kneading Ilya’s leg, groaning like an animal in pain.

“It’s not mercy,” Ilya breathed, tipping their head back against the tears welling in their eyes. “It’s not fucking… mercy to give you water, de—” Their voice faded. It felt so cruel, so dismissive, to call the creature ‘demon.’

Almost as bad as referring to it as it.

“Can I call you, um…” The name nearly formed on their lips. Ilya cleared their throat, heart aching. “Um… can I call you Dee?” they murmured, tracing their fingers back and forth across the demon’s blazing cheek.

The demon’s pupils narrowed to slits at the touch, and it – they – purred softly. They doubled over with a wracking cough, drawing its legs to its chest and shuddering with each heave. They whimpered as Ilya gently rubbed its back.

“Y-you… may call me what you like,” it croaked. “I am y-yours to—”

“But do you like the name?” Ilya said gently, trying to keep their voice even. “What was your name before?”

The demon froze. Even the rise and fall of its chest ceased.

“Shhh,” Ilya whispered, and stroked their fingers through its – their – hair again. “Does that old name frighten you?”

“You c-can…” The demon swallowed hard. Sweat beaded on its skin in the wake of Ilya’s touch. “If you want to… to c-call me by that… that old name… the, the others did, the powers, as they… as they h-hurt me…” They dissolved into tears, squeezing their eyes shut and pressing their face against Ilya’s leg.

“Okay,” Ilya murmured past the lump in their throat. “Okay. Then… Dee it is. If that feels right.”

“Wh-whatever you wish,” the demon whispered.

We’ll talk about it once they’re better. Ilya traced one finger across the creature’s brow, down their nose, over their eyelids. They drew in a deep breath and let it out.

“You said there was a human in this body before,” Ilya said carefully. “That she was killed.”

The demon shuddered and heaved a broken sob. “Y-yes… yes, they, they d-drowned us in… in holy water. I didn’t realize she was gone for, for days, my s-skin was… burnt… Th-the pain was… It was too much, I couldn’t bear it. I d-didn’t realize she was g-gone. I h-had to mend, my throat was… was blistered all the way d-down to… my lungs…”

Ilya shoved a hand against their own mouth to muffle their sob. “Oh, god,” they croaked, voice breaking. “They… I didn’t know holy water…”

“Th-that is why you are merciful,” the demon whispered.

Ilya glanced at the empty cup on the nightstand. Their stomach lurched and they tasted bile at the back of their throat.

“They made you drink it,” they said through their teeth.

“Y-yes,” the demon whimpered. “Please, do not… please, please, do not burn me, I am… I am good for you… p-please, no…”

“Shhh,” Ilya murmured, gently cupping Dee’s face. “It’s alright. You… you say the human who lived in you was a she. Are you…?”

The demon’s eyelids fluttered. Their pupils were slits as they turned their face up to look at Ilya. “I am it,” they whispered through trembling lips. “I am… I am a, a creature, evil and foul and—”

“No,” Ilya snapped. They cursed themself as the demon cringed away from the anger in their voice. They cleared their throat and forced themself to speak calmly. “No,” they said. “You aren’t… you aren’t evil. You’re not foul. You’re… I just want to know… what you are. Inside this body.”

The demon blinked, their pupils widening, constricting, their eyes fogged with fever. They licked their chapped lips and whispered, “If it p-pleases you to know…” Their voice gave out. “I am… him.”

“Thank you,” Ilya murmured, sitting back against the headboard again. “Thank you, Dee.” They gently cradled the demon’s face. Elsewhere in the house, the sound of the bath stopped. Ilya’s fingers continued their gentle path across the demon’s forehead, through his hair, down the back of his neck. He groaned softly and twisted on the bed, panting, his skin burning under Ilya’s hand.

Continued here

@womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @inkyinsanity​, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @pebbledriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump, @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather, @butwhatifyouwrite, @carnagecardinal

#lux in tenebris #sickfic #nonhuman whumpee #demon whumpee #human caretaker #dee the demon #i love my smol human caretaker #Ilya #fever #delirium #broken whumpee #past dehumanization tw #past torture #burns tw #it as a pronoun tw #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like... my thing #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like...my THING #fuck why do I have two of those tags #past death tw #drowning

[whump-tr0pes]

HB4-35/Whumptober day 16

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, and Vera.

AO3

Masterlist

~

Content warning: death mention, getting knocked out, consensual sex mention, mention of baby in imagined peril (that never happens)

@eatyourdamnpears, this one’s for you

~

As Gray pulled back up to the house in the family’s beat-up car, Isaac sagged with exhaustion. Fifty-six refugees. Isaac had processed fifty-six saved lives with Gray, Schiester, and the three other people who’d been able to volunteer their time. Isaac had done the preliminary paperwork on most of them, and it was as if their images were burned into the backs of his eyes. 

He’d only ever been able to save people in ones and twos, sometimes the occasional family. But… fifty-six people. He’d helped with fifty-six people’s rescues today. 

He wondered, then, why he felt so empty. 

He felt scraped raw, dragged over rocky ground. Every single one of those people had a story like his, or worse. Every single one had lost someone along the way. Their lives had all been destroyed, in one way or another, by the syndicates Isaac had spent his life trying to destroy. An entire life of effort, and there were still broken people heading for the promise of freedom. He’d spent his entire life fighting a threat that still sucked people in and spat them out like some fucked up industrial machine. 

But… fifty-six lives. 

I just did paperwork.

He clenched his hand into a fist and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing back the thoughts that were more familiar to him than breathing. Invasive thoughts, Gray called them. Isaac still hadn’t read the book Gray had given him for the thoughts, but he understood the basic premise. 

He also understood the only way to fight them was to just… let them go. Totally easy. 

Gray put the car in park and glanced at him as they turned it off. “Everything okay?” they said gently. They sounded tired, too. 

“Y-yeah,” he croaked, relaxing his hand. “Just… thinking.”

“Hm,” Gray murmured, and pulled the keys out of the ignition. They got out of the car and left the keys on the seat. They’d done that at Tori’s house, but it still made Isaac dizzy. 

I’ve never been this safe in my entire life.

“You hungry?” Gray said, and Isaac realized they were waiting for him to get out. He staggered to his feet, stretching his legs after the long car ride from Crayton. 

“Yeah,” Isaac said, stretching his hands over his head, yawning. The sky was streaked with color, and the sun was minutes from setting behind the house. “I could eat.” In truth, he was starving. He just wasn’t sure he had the energy to cook a whole meal. 

I wonder if I could convince Gavin that the cooking practice would be good for him…

He smiled and shook his head as he followed Gray inside. 

In the kitchen, Tori, Ellis, and Finn all stood in the kitchen talking. As soon as Isaac and Gray walked in, they fell silent, gigantic grins on their faces. Finn crossed their arms and leaned against a counter. They jerked as if they’d been shocked and let their arms fall to their sides. Isaac raised an eyebrow, a smile playing at his lips. 

“Um… guys?” he said, glancing at Gray. They looked equally curious. “What’s up?”

Finn and Ellis exchanged a glance, conspiratory grins pulling wider. 

“Go get the others,” Ellis said. 

“Gotta tell you something,” Finn said at the same time. 

Isaac’s eyes narrowed, and he smiled wider. “Okay… where is everyone?”

Ellis waved their hand dismissively in the direction of the bedrooms. “Gavin ran into the bedroom as soon as he heard the car coming,” they sighed. “Vera, Edrissa, and Sam are in the barn. Sparring,” Ellis deepened their voice and widened their eyes. “Edrissa’s turning into a deadly assassin.” 

Isaac snorted. “She’s doing really well, yeah,” he said gently. 

“I’ll get Gavin,” Gray said, resting a hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “You want to go get the others?”

“Sure,” Isaac said, and walked towards the back of the house. His cheeks flushed at the knowing smiles the others shared as he passed. He left the kitchen and went out into the yard. 

He tilted his head back and smiled, breathing in the cool air off the lake. The sky was fading to a dusty pink, the deep purple of the sky above the clouds showing in slits. As he walked through the grass to the barn, he felt the heaviness of the day fall away, just a little. He’d done his best today, and now he was home.

As he walked towards the barn, he heard a thump. He tilted his head at the sound. 

Thump.

He walked through the open door. Sam was sitting cross-legged on the wood floor, their arm in its sling, and staring at Edrissa and Vera where they stood in the middle of the barn floor. Vera held a thick pad along the left side of her body and she crouched behind it, protecting her head, chest, and flank. Edrissa stood in front of her, her hands raised in fists. She lurched forward and swung her leg around, kicking the pad with all her might.

Thump.

Isaac smiled and stepped into the barn. A floorboard squeaked. Vera looked up, her face pulling into a smile. Edrissa started a kick. Vera let the pad drop to her side as she straightened. Edrissa’s foot smacked against the side of Vera’s head. 

Vera’s face went slack, and she was out before she hit the ground. 

Isaac lunged towards her, his hands outstretched. She crumpled to the floor. Edrissa stumbled back, her hands pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide with terror. Sam’s left hand stretched out in front of them, halfway up on their knees. Isaac stared, dumbfounded, at Vera where she lay on the floor.

Vera blinked slowly and looked around, her hand going to her head. She opened and closed her jaw and shook her head. Her gaze found Edrissa.

“I…” Edrissa whispered. She trembled and cringed back into herself. “I… I am… so, so sorry…” Her lips trembled and her eyes shone with tears. “Vera…”

Vera was already getting up. Isaac was by her side in a heartbeat, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. “Whoa. You good?”

Vera distractedly put her hand over Isaac’s. She turned dazed eyes on Edrissa. Edrissa took a step back. 

“I’m sorry… please…”

Vera blinked and moved her jaw again. She gently massaged the spot. 

“Nice shot,” she rasped. 

Edrissa went perfectly still. “Nice…?”

Vera laughed dryly and grasped at Isaac’s arm. She let him pull her to her feet. She swayed in place, her eyes closing slowly again, before she smiled. She winced and put her hand to her face. “You found my knockout button,” she said, shaking her head.

Edrissa stared at Vera, her gaze pleading and terrified but… hopeful. “Your…?”

“Um.” Vera swallowed thickly. “Everyone’s got a ‘knockout button.’” She pointed to the joint of her jaw. “Right about here. You hit that just right, they’re out like a light for a few seconds, or more.”

“I’m… s-sorry I hit you,” Edrissa whispered. 

“It’s okay,” Vera said, smiling wider now. “I let my guard down. I… guess I underestimated you, for a moment. She arched an eyebrow at Edrissa. “Remind me to not do that again.”

A watery smile played at Edrissa’s lips. “Are you… mad?”

Vera laughed again, louder, and shook her head. “I’m not mad. That was a good kick. We were still practicing, and I let my guard down. It’s not your fault.” She smiled wider. “I swear, Edrissa. Not mad. I’m… impressed.”

“Really?” Edrissa murmured, and wrapped her arms around her waist. 

Sam got to their feet and went to her side. She blushed a furious red as they took her hand. 

When did that happen?

Isaac smiled. They’re good for each other. And they’re sweet. 

Vera smoothed her hair and dusted off her clothes. “Really. I’m not mad.” She glanced at Isaac, still looking slightly dazed. “What’s up? Glad to see you back. How was the day?”

“Um, good,” Isaac said, and shrugged. “The others want to tell us something, though? They asked me to come get you.”

Vera’s eyes sparkled with a knowing smile. Isaac’s brow furrowed. 

“Come on,” Vera said quietly, excitement lacing her voice. “Let’s go talk, then.” She turned and walked out of the barn, Edrissa on her heels. She pulled Sam behind her. They turned back and looked at Isaac with a dopey smile, and he found himself grinning back.

They deserve to have this good thing.

Isaac felt a sudden flood of gratitude for Edrissa. 

As they made their way back to the house, Isaac shivered in the sudden cool of the night without the sun to warm him. He rubbed his hands up and down his arms. The cuts there were healed. His back, not quite yet, but his arms were healed. 

As he walked back into the warmth of the house he was greeted by the sight of Tori, Ellis, Finn, Gray, and Gavin all standing in the kitchen, looking expectantly at him and the other three. Gavin had a flush on his face and a shy smile that made Isaac blush. He suddenly wanted nothing more than to throw Gavin against the fridge and—

“So what’s the news?” Gray said, looking from Ellis to Finn to Tori and back. Their eyes stayed on Ellis, and they chewed their lip. 

“Um…” Finn looked at Ellis and gulped loudly. They pulled Ellis firmly into their arms and pressed a kiss against the side of their head. 

“I’m pregnant,” Ellis said with a rush of breath. 

“Oh,” Edrissa whispered. 

Isaac’s mouth fell open. He looked from Ellis to Finn, waiting for them to say they were joking and that this had been a great prank. They both looked at the family with radiant smiles. Finn’s eyes were filled with tears. He glanced at Tori, and she was staring at Ellis with something close to rapture on her face. A tear rolled down her cheek.

“R-really?” Isaac breathed. “You’re… you’re having a baby?”

Ellis laughed, and the sound was free, and light, and happy. “Yeah, dumbass,” they said, leaning against Finn. “That’s what happens when you’re pregnant.”

Isaac stood still for a moment longer. Then he lunged forward and threw his arms around them both.

“I can’t believe it!” Sam said, their voice high and airy, their chest heaving with half-laughter, half -sobs. “I… can’t believe it!”

“That’s… that’s great,” Gray said behind him, and it sounded like they were holding back tears. “Really… really fantastic.” They stepped forward and put a hand on Ellis’s shoulder. Vera went to Tori’s side and they wrapped their arms around each other. Vera pressed a kiss against Tori’s forehead, and Tori smiled at the touch. 

“How… when…?” Isaac gasped, and pulled away from the hug. His eyes darted between them. 

Finn turned red from the collar of their shirt to the roots of their hair. “Um…”

“Sex, and recently?” Ellis said, playfully shoving Isaac. 

“N-no, I mean…” Isaac drew a hand through his hair. “I… I just… now? I… wow.”

“Yeah, wow works,” Finn said, looking slightly stunned. “It’s… pretty crazy.” 

“Yeah, Jesus. But… good timing.” The breath caught in Isaac’s throat, a sudden vision of Ellis, pregnant in Colleen’s house, chained to a bed to give birth if they lived that long, and the baby…

He shuddered and pushed the vision out of his mind. He focused again on Ellis’s face. 

They were looking over his shoulder. “Hey, dumbass,” they said, a little tightly, but still with a smile. “You gonna get your ass over here and congratulate me, or what?”

Isaac glanced behind him and saw Gavin go beet red. “Oh,” he mumbled, and stepped forward. “I’m sorry, I… I didn’t know you… wanted…”

“Yeah, well…” Ellis trailed off. “I do.”

Gavin stepped forward. “C-congratulations,” he said, and stopped at Isaac’s side. “That’s… really, really great.” Isaac threw an arm over his shoulder. Gavin melted against Isaac, a little sigh making its way through his lips. 

Sam pushed forward and wrapped their left arm around Finn’s waist, leaning their right shoulder gently against Ellis. They both wrapped Sam up in a gentle hug. They stepped back and stared back up at them, a wide smile across their face. Isaac didn’t think he’s seen them this happy since…

He couldn’t really remember.

“This family could use some good news,” Gray said gently, stepping forward to kiss Ellis on the top of their head. Ellis looked up at Gray with tears in their eyes as they gave Finn a kiss, too. “So…” They chuckled. “Really, really excellent work.”

“Well, we try,” Ellis said, flipping their hair over their shoulder. 

Edrissa walked up and stood beside Gray. She looked up at Ellis, her hand extended out like she was about to touch Ellis’s belly. “This is… oh, Ellis, I… I can made all their clothes, if you want. There’s this nice store in Crayton that sells yarn and it’s… it’s been a while since I crocheted, and I’ll have to grab some patterns, but I can… Oh. I could start with a onsie… do you have any colors you really want? Does it… can you tell what sex it is? I heard sometimes you can tell…”

Ellis grinned down at her. “I think that might be a myth,” they said, smiling softly. Their hand settled over their belly. “I have no idea what it is. But…” They shrugged. “I like blue. No matter what, the baby can wear blue.”

“The baby can wear anything you want,” Edrissa sighed, looking like she was floating on air.

Isaac wondered if she ever imagined she would be this happy again. 

Gavin pressed a soft kiss to Isaac’s cheek. Isaac blushed and turned to him. Gavin’s smile made something in him ache. He wet his lips.

“You hungry?” Gavin murmured.

“Yeah, actually,” Isaac said, smiling. 

“I have sandwiches in the fridge, if you want,” Gavin said with a shrug. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted, so I made my, um… my favorite.” Gavin glanced at the floor. 

“Sounds great,” Isaac said, his mouth watering. 

“And then…” Gavin leaned in closer, his lips inches from Isaac’s ear. “After we eat, I want to talk to you,” he whispered, and the sound didn’t carry in the happy, busy kitchen.

Isaac pulled back and stared at Gavin, at the slip of a smile on his face, at the way his eyes seemed to burn from within. Isaac’s stomach flipped in anticipation of whatever… talking meant.

“Y-yeah,” he croaked, and cleared his throat. “Sounds, um… sounds good.”

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts, @womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @whatwhumpcomments, @cursedscribbles, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @omega-em-z-02, @whumps-the-word, @justwhumpitwhumpitgood, @justplainwhump, @moose-teeth, @slaintetowhump, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @thatsthewhump, @orchidscript, @insanitywishes, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @cinnamonflavoredhugs, @inaridriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump

#honor bound 4 #whumptober2020 #no. 16 #accidents #altprompt #OC #fic #death mention tw #knockout tw #mention of consensual sex #child in danger tw #fluff #just tooth rotting fluff #Daniel Schiester is such a good person #invasive thoughts #Isaac/Gavin #edrissa: mystery girl #sparring #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like...my THING #sam/edrissa #Fillis #Fillis baby #IRIS! IS! HERE! #HMS ToriVera #yes that was an allusion to the Fillis Angst AU #Edrissa rants about pretty things

[whump-tr0pes]

My Name Is Stormy - puppy!Gavin AU

Here’s a continuation of @ashintheairlikesnow ‘s amazing AU where Gavin Stormbeck was captured with Daniel Michaelson - Gavin for months, Danny for years. Gavin and Danny were tortured together and forced to take punishment in place of their families. They were forced on each other for entertainment by anti-syndicate sadists. Isaac and the team rescued them before Gavin ever tortured him. Now they are eternally grateful to Isaac, and willing to do anything - anything - to show how very grateful they are. 

Cw: pet whump, dissoci@tion, past conditioning, past noncon, past dubcon, current noncon/dubcon, use of conditioned name

~

Isaac yawns and rubs the back of his neck as he opens the door to his room. He grunts has he nearly trips over something – someone – lying across the floor in front of his door. His eyes go wide in the dark. He reaches over and snaps on the light.

Danny kneels on the floor, his hand nervously rubbing circles on Gavin’s back. Gavin shivers on his knees, bent over until his forehead touches the floor at Isaac’s feet. His dark brown hair is messy and stands out from his head.

And he’s not wearing a shirt.

“Shit,” Isaac murmurs, and drops to his knees.

Gavin Stormbeck whimpers. No, whines. Like a dog.

Danny whimpers with him. “H-he, um, it’s, it’s bad. He had a, um, a nightmare, and I, I couldn’t get him, um… back to, to himself.” Tears shine in Danny’s eyes as he looks up at Isaac, as if he’s begging.

Isaac’s hand moves over Gavin, not quite touching his skin. Not sure where to touch that won’t hurt. That won’t scare him. Gavin’s back is marked with scars, long lines from a knife, short, wicked slashes from the whip. All healed, now. Physically, at least.

Isaac swallows hard. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want this. He didn’t want these broken men to look at him like he was their savior – or their owner. He hates the metallic tang of guilt whenever they slide to their knees and beg him silently for mercy, for an order, for pain, just so they can feel like something is the same. He hates the revulsion that lurches in him every time they offer him something: a drink, a favor, their bodies for his use. It’s disgusting. It’s vile, that they were treated this way. They didn’t deserve this, even as syndicate sons.

Isaac’s hand shakes as it settles on Gavin’s back. Gavin shudders under his hand.

“Gavin?” Isaac says softly. “Are you—”

“Stormy,” Gavin rasps, the words twisting into an almost-sob. “M-my name is Stormy, and I belong to… to…” He whimpers and cowers closer to the floor.

“No,” Isaac whispers. “No. You’re Gavin Stormbeck. Remember? We got you out of there? You don’t belong to anyone. You belong to yourself. That’s it.”

Gavin hesitantly lifts his head, shaking, as if he’ll be struck for daring to. He slowly, slowly raises his gaze to Isaac. Isaac’s stomach heaves at the horrifying blankness he finds in Gavin’s eyes.

“My name is Stormy,” Gavin says flatly. “And I belong to you.”

Isaac bites his lip. “Oh,” he says softly.

Danny whimpers. “I c-couldn’t, um, get him, get him out. I’m sorry, I, I-I couldn’t, I couldn’t…”

“It’s not your fault,” Isaac says, holding out a hand. “It’s alright. We can get him out together.”

“I d-didn’t think it would, um, last this long,” Danny says, his voice breaking. He reaches out and clutches at Gavin’s hand.

Isaac’s eyes widen. “What do you mean? How long have you been out here?”

“All, um…” Danny ducks his head. “All night.”

Isaac’s chest aches. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Because…” Danny looks at Gavin where he crouches on the floor. “He wouldn’t, um, let me. Was afraid you would… you would… um… hurt him. Hurt me.”

“Oh,” Isaac says brokenly. He stares at Gavin for another minute, at the quivering, trembling mess on the floor in front of him. “Okay,” he says softly. “Help me get him up. I’ll help calm him down.”

“Y-yes, s—” Danny cuts himself off as Isaac’s eyes go wider. Isaac had told them not to call him sir when he took them. It has been a hard lesson to unlearn. Danny unfolds himself and takes Gavin under one arm. Isaac takes the other side. Together, they stand with Gavin. Gavin sways, biting his lip to hold down a groan. Isaac presses his lips together.

“Gavin,” he says heavily. “You’ve been… been kneeling there all night?”

Gavin nods slowly. “Y-yes…” He looks at Isaac, his eyes unfocused and staring right past him, as his lips tremble. “I…”

“Okay,” Isaac says. “Let’s get you sitting down. Let you stretch out a little. Come on.” He guides Gavin to the bed.

Gavin nods. “Okay,” he whispers. “We’re going to the, the bed. I can…” His hands wind around Isaac’s shirt. “I can be good.”

Isaac freezes. He clenches his jaw against the bile that rises in his throat. “No,” he breathes. He looks around the room for another option. His gaze falls on a loveseat pushed up against a wall, covered with clothes, with camping gear, with everything Isaac hasn’t put away in a month. He squeezes Gavin’s arm. “Stay,” he commands. He flinches as Gavin freezes in place. Not the best order to give.

He clears the loveseat, dumping most of the contents onto the floor. He looks up at Gavin.

“Gavin,” he rasps. “Come here. Come sit.”

“My name is Stormy,” Gavin breathes. He takes a step forward, then another, supported by Danny. Danny’s gaze is fixed on him, a look of shame and regret and terror playing across his face. He eases Gavin onto the loveseat, right in the middle. Danny sits on one side, Isaac on the other.

Gavin robotically turns and tries to climb into Isaac’s lap. “I can be good for you,” he murmurs as Isaac pushes against his chest. “I can be, be good.”

“No,” Isaac says patiently. “No. I don’t want that. I don’t want that from you.”

Gavin leans forward and tries to catch Isaac’s mouth in a kiss. “I want to be good,” he whimpers. He pushes Isaac’s hands away and straddles his hips.

“No,” Isaac says, an edge of panic creeping into his voice. “Stop.” He pushes against Gavin’s shoulders, trying to ease him back to his seat on the couch. Gavin hooks his hand behind Isaac’s head and crushes his lips against Isaac’s.

“No,” Isaac growls, and shoves Gavin away. Gavin falls limply back against the couch. Confusion and terror mix on his face, and desperation to do it right. To be good. 

“Then…” Gavin turns to Danny. “Do you… do you want us to…?”

Danny whimpers as Gavin’s hand reaches between his legs. Danny weakly pushes the hand away. “Gavin,” he whimpers, cringing back. “P-please, no… not like, um, not like that, n-not when you’re, um, like this…”

“But we have to be good for him,” Gavin mumbles, and presses his lips against Danny’s. Gavin’s hands reach for the hem of Danny’s shirt.

Isaac’s stomach lurches, and he grabs Gavin’s wrist without thinking. He drags Gavin off of Danny and pins him down against the loveseat. Gavin’s eyes find Isaac’s, and something slots into place behind them. Gavin goes limp in Isaac’s grasp. As if Isaac has finally done what was necessary. As if Isaac is finally, finally going to take what was owed. Isaac’s hands shake, but he forces himself to keep holding Gavin down.

A sickness creeps into Isaac’s bones as he realizes what needs to be done. He doesn’t know how to bring Gavin out now; if Danny couldn’t do it, Danny, then Isaac has no hope at all. He clenches his jaw and says through his teeth, “Stormy, stop.”

Danny gasps softly and whimpers beside Gavin. He grasps Gavin’s hand where it rests limp in his lap. Gavin relaxes further in Isaac’s grip.

“My name is Stormy,” Gavin murmurs. “And I belong to you.”

Isaac swallows the hot lump in his throat. “S-Stormy, um… you’re being good, okay?”

Gavin tries to pull away from Isaac’s hands, clutching at his shirt, trying to drag himself on top of Isaac again. “Okay,” he sighs. “I’m being good.”

“NO,” Isaac growls. “I said stop that. Don’t do that.”

Gavin stares up at him in confusion and terror. “Okay,” he whispers.

Isaac relaxes his grip on Gavin. “You can’t do that right now. What I need you to do is just sit with us. Okay? Don’t try to…” His throat closes. “Don’t try to do anything with us.

Gavin’s blank eyes stare at Isaac. He wets his lips but doesn’t say anything.

“Do you understand?” Isaac says, his voice more gentle. “Do you understand that I don’t want that right now?” Gavin’s eyes unfocus. Isaac shakes him slightly. “Stormy. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Gavin says, eyes still completely transfixed on Isaac’s face.

“Good,” Isaac heaves out. He pulls his hands away from Gavin. “Now. Um. I’m going to, um, just sit with you. We both are. Me and Danny.” Gavin’s eyes flick to Danny. Danny squeezes his hand. “We’re going to just, um, sit with you until you come back. Okay? Stormy? Or can I call you Gavin?”

Gavin flinches slightly. “Stormy,” he whispers. His lips tremble and he curls in on himself. “My name is Stormy, and I belong to you.”

“Agh, Jesus,” Isaac says, and pulls Gavin close. Gavin’s hands twist in Isaac’s shirt, but he doesn’t try to pull himself into Isaac’s lap anymore. He shivers and slumps against the couch.

Danny’s arms come around them both, and he cuddles on Gavin’s other side, his scarred hands resting lightly on Isaac’s arms. Danny’s hands are cool and rough on his skin. He presses a kiss against Gavin’s hair, and Gavin shifts slightly, pushing against Danny.

“I can be—”

“I know,” Danny says heavily. “I… I, um, l-love you…” He swallows hard. “…Stormy.”

Gavin shivers at the name. Isaac’s arms tighten around him.

#honor bound AU #Daniel Michaelson's au #puppy!Gavin #angst #dissociation tw #past conditioning #pet whump #past noncon tw #referenced past dubcon #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like...my THING #kneeling #noncon tw #dubcon tw #trauma recovery

[whump-tr0pes]

The Collection Box/Honor Bound crossover AU - part 5

Omg folks, @whump-it is letting me use her darling boy Callum for this AU. We had this idea to make a short collab featuring Isaac, Sam, and Callum as an adult. If you haven’t read her Collection Box series, it’s a box boy AU where people can donate themselves to an Appointed Person where they can then be Selected by anyone who wants them. Anyone. You have no more rights, no protection, no documentation.

Callum donated himself when he was around 20. He was selected by some dick who made Callum call him Master Hayden, and then proceeded to torture him for 3 years before Rory (Callum’s Appointed Person and soulmate) was finally able to get him back. Years later Callum is a doctor, and uses his training and authority to help other Donations.

In this universe, Sam themself is a Donation. Isaac (and Vera, mentioned) are a duo that goes around saving Donations from abusive Selectors. It just so happens that Sam may not have been of age when they Donated themself… or were Donated by someone else. Now they’re injured, confused, and just want to be back with their Selector… or they might pay the price.

Part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4

Cw: human trafficking, past whump of a minor

~

Isaac stood just outside the curtains around the kid’s bed. All around him he heard the sounds of the hospital. Nurses chatting, machines beeping, children crying… It felt strange for the kid to be in the locked pediatric ward. They may be eighteen. But it was the best way to keep them safe, for now.

He’d been guarding the kid for days. Hardly sleeping. Vera had come in to relieve him a few times, but he had insisted on staying by the kid’s side as much as he could. He felt so protective of them, anchored to the spot, connected with them in a way they’d never felt connected to the other Donations he’d rescued. He couldn’t explain it.

Behind him, the kid – Sam, their name was Sam, it was better if he called them that – stirred in their bed. The sheets rustled against the mattress, the mattress crackled as it moved under their weight. The kid was waking up.

Isaac put his face in his hands. All night he’d stood, or sat, or paced by Sam’s room, waiting for the moment that seemed inevitable. He waited for the moment when the kid’s AP, that prick Leo Tierney, showed up to take them away. Or worse, Colleen Stormbeck herself. Technically it was her legal right. She owned Sam, owned their body like they were a thing. Like they were something to be bought and used and hurt because she felt like it. Sam had been tortured because someone felt like it.

Isaac’s chest burned with a rage he’d tried so hard to douse his entire life.

The kid groaned and tossed against the bed. I wonder if I could get the kid some breakfast. Then, a darker thought: I wonder how often they’ve gotten to eat in the past few months… or years.

Then the kid let out a whimper. The sound cut right to Isaac’s heart. He turned, his hand brushing against the curtain around their bed. He clenched his jaw and stopped himself. What if they don’t want to see me? What if it makes them worse? I took them away from their home. They’ve done nothing but beg me to take them back, for days.

The kid let out a scream. Isaac tore the curtains back and darted to Sam’s side.

Sam thrashed against the sheets, their eyes closed, their face twisted in a desperate sob. Isaac immediately stepped forward, his hands outstretched to them, before he stopped. His hands shook. Uncertainty muddied the waters of his mind.

“No, please!” the kid sobbed. All of Isaac’s hesitancy was knocked out of him in a moment.

“Sam, wake up,” he said urgently, shaking their shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re not back there. You’re safe.”

“No!” Sam sobbed, twisting away from Isaac’s hands. “No no no no please, I’ll be good, ma’am, please, please don’t hurt me, please…” They clawed at their neck, trying to tear away a collar that was no longer there. The torn skin and scars remained.

“Sam,” Isaac hissed, before they could get the attention of the whole ward. “Sam, stop. You’re safe. You’re alright.”

“NO!” Sam shrieked. Isaac grabbed their shoulders and shook them until their teeth rattled. Sam jerked awake and cringed back from Isaac’s hands.

“Sam?” Isaac croaked. “Sam, I…”

Sam squeezed their eyes shut and turned their face away. They tilted their head back, exposing their neck, holding out their hands to Isaac, their palms together. As if offering him… to tie their wrists. Isaac scrambled back off the bed with a gasp.

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered. “I’m yours. I’m yours to do with as you please, ma’am.”

“No,” Isaac whimpered. “Sam, open your eyes. Look at me.”

Sam’s lips trembled. Their hands squeezed into fists as they held them out to Isaac. “P-please…” Their voice faltered. “I’m sorry. I can be good. D-do you want to… to tie me? Or should… um…” Their throat bobbed as they swallowed. “Should I kneel?”

Isaac took a heavy step forward. “Sam… please… stop…”

Sam whimpered and tilted their head back further. “I can wear the collar today. Do you want to, um… to cut me? Or… or the whip? Or…” They whined softly, their voice beseeching, as if… trying to guess what Isaac wanted. What their… owner… wanted.

“Sam,” Isaac rasped. “Sam, just…” he reached out and gently took their wrists in one hand. They shuddered and bit down on their lip. Isaac guided their hands down to rest in their lap. “Sam… open your eyes. Look at me. Please.”

Sam stifled a whimper. Their eyes fluttered open and slowly – slowly – brought their gaze to Isaac. Their lips trembled. “I-Isaac?”

Isaac let out a gusty breath of relief. “Yeah, Sam,” he said softly. “It’s me. You’re not, um, not there.”

Sam’s gaze bounced around the tiny room, moving past the curtains, the tiny table at their bedside, the machine behind them that normally monitored vital signs but had been turned off yesterday. “They’re medically stable. No need making them uncomfortable with all the wires and such,” Dr. Callum had said.

Sam swallowed hard. “M-Ms. Colleen, she—”

“She’s not going to find you,” Isaac said gently.

Sam whimpered. “But sh-she has, um the legal right to—”

“Not if you were underage when she took you,” Isaac said, hoping, praying this wasn’t what would shatter the delicate trust Sam had placed in him already.

Sam’s eyes went wide. Their chest began to heave with panicked breaths. Their hands fisted in the sheets. “N-no,” Sam whispered. “No, I’m… I’m not underage. I’m not underage. Ms. Colleen bought me with, with, with… within the constraints of the law…” Sam’s voice took on the dull, flat tone of someone reciting something they’d been forced to repeat over and over and over. “And I’m not… no… d-don’t say that…”

“Sam…” Isaac sat slowly on the side of the bed, careful not to touch them. “If we can prove you were underage when she took you, you’ll be free. She can never hurt you again. S-so…” He wet his lips. “…um… Sam, we need to know. We need to know how old you are. We need to know when she took you.”

Sam’s hands tightened around the sheets. “She’ll always get me,” they whispered. “She can, can always find me. I can n-never go f-far enough away from her to—”

“I’ll protect you,” Isaac said fiercely, the bite in his voice making Sam quiver and sit back against the pillow. Isaac squeezed his hand into a fist and forced himself to take a calm, slow breath. “We all will. Me… Dr. Callum… Rory…”

Sam’s eyes flicked to the blanket covering them. They opened their mouth to speak, then closed it again. Then, so quietly Isaac could barely hear, Sam said, “Dr. Callum’s like me.”

Isaac’s throat tightened. “Yeah, Sam,” he said heavily. “He is.”

“And… and he… he l-left. Escaped. He’s… he’s a doctor. He… um… he became something.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said softly, his eyes burning with tears. “He did. You can, too. We’ll get you away from Colleen. Get her arrested. Or, or something. Or…” Isaac clenched his jaw. “…or I’ll send you away from here. Somewhere far away, where she can’t get you. And I—”

“I’m eighteen,” Sam whispered. “I’m eighteen. I was, um, sixteen when she took me. Sixteen and a half.” They ducked their head. “I’m… I’m eighteen.”

Isaac bowed his head, the tears in his eyes running down his cheeks. “Oh,” he murmured.

“I… I told you… I… no,” Sam whimpered. “She’s… she’s going to be so angry…”

Without thinking, Isaac pulled Sam into his arms. Rather than pull away, Sam buried their face in Isaac’s shoulder and sobbed.

“We’ll keep you safe,” Isaac murmured against their hair. “I’ll keep you safe. I’ll protect you, so she can never lay a hand on you again.”

Sam trembled, their hands tightening in Isaac’s shirt. He held them until they pulled away.

“You want some breakfast?” Isaac said softly.

Sam licked their lips and nodded.

@pepperonyscience , @whumpygecko , @newandfiguringitout , @orchidscript , @gottalovethemwriters

#honor bound au #collection box au #bbu au #captivity #whump #Sam whump #protective isaac #nightmare #past torture #colleen stormbeck is a mean mean lady #implied whump of a minor tw #human trafficking mention tw #slavery tw #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like...my THING

[whump-tr0pes]

*Busts into your inbox* HEYAAA I saw you reblogging my entire vampire whump series and I just wanna say thank you, you made my fucking night with the tags 😂😂😂 ALSO I am a big fan of your work and I admire you very much. *Backflips back out of your inbox*

Oh you gave me a lovely lovely morning of some of the most intense whumperflies ever. I love your sweet lil bat so much. I'm gonna tag this with the tag I've used for that trope since forever cuz it's just SO GOOD. I absolutely love your work

#whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like...my thing

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor bound 2 - 5

This is a series. Start here. Continued from here. 

This is a sequel series to Honor Bound.

AO3

Something was wrong in Gray’s chest. I can’t breathe, why can’t I breathe right, why can’t I… Pain in, pain out. Pain in, pain out. They pushed a sound out of their throat that was something like a whimper.

“They’re awake. Finn, come here. Gray? Gray, can you hear me?”

The voice was coming from somewhere and they were underwater. Why am I underwater? Might be why my chest hurts. They opened their mouth, gaping for the air that had to be nearby.

“Gray, it’s alright…just breathe, there you go…just breathe…”

I am breathing. It just hurts too much. Pain in, pain out.

“I think they’re in pain. Can you hit the button to call the nurse? Maybe they need -”

A strangled sound left their throat. Their hand moved up to their chest and they pawed at where the pain was coming from. If I can just dig the pain out…

“Grab their arm. Gray, stop. Leave that alone. You’ll tear your stitches. Sam… Sam…help me, grab their arm, there you go.”

“Why aren’t they waking up?”

“They’re still a little sedated. Gray, you’re ok. Squeeze if you can hear me.”

I can try.

“Good! Good. Gray. Oh…come on, breathe. You’re alright.”

Where’s Tori.

The thought crashed over them and froze their chest again. Where’s Tori. She’s in trouble, someone…someone took her… They whimpered as they tried to remember. They had to tell someone. Someone had to go save Tori. Please, please help her, leave me alone and help her…

“Gray, please! Just relax, Gray, let go…”

Please. Please, god, let her be alive. Leave me and go find her. Someone…why can’t I…

“That nurse should be here by now. Ellis, can you -”

“Of course.”

“Isaac, come here, help me… Gray, relax, it’s just us, you’re safe…”

But where’s Tori. Someone help Tori.

Gavin. Gavin has Tori. The thought punched them in the gut. They moaned, the pain spiking in their chest. Gavin shot me and he has Tori.

They thought they could feel tears on their cheeks, or it could have been the water. Am I still underwater? The voices around them sounded clearer. Maybe…

“Gray, stop…stop pulling at that. Vera, can you find something to restrain them with? I can’t…”

SOMEONE FIND TORI. SOMEONE HELP HER.

They could hear someone screaming, far off in the distance. Screaming and sobbing. God, someone else is hurt…help them too, did Gavin hurt them too? Please…no no no please god someone help her… I couldn’t save her…he shot me…

They felt something winding around their wrists, tying them down. Fine, torture me, hurt me, just please…don’t hurt Tori, don’t hurt my Tori…

“Oh my god. What happened?”

“They woke up and started pulling at the bandages. They pulled one of their IVs, I’m sorry…we couldn’t hold them down…”

“Let me get them some more medication. Sometimes people have a bad reaction to the anesthesia…”

“Can we get some better restraints? These will work for now, but…”

“Let me see what I can find. Did they manage to tear the bandages?”

“No. Just the line.”

“Ok. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you.”

God, my chest. What are they doing to me? My chest…hurts… They choked out a twisted sob.

“Gray, you’re alright… You’re in the hospital. They’ll get you some more medication. You’re safe, Gray.”

Safe? Then why am I hurting? Why am I tied down? They pulled uselessly at the restraints. Save Tori. Do whatever you want to me but save Tori. They dragged in a gasp.

“Gray, please…” That voice. It was thick with tears, but…important. That voice was close. That voice was family. “Gray, it’s ok…you’re safe, I’m ok. Vera got me. We’re all here with you.”

They twisted closer to the voice, tears wetting the pillow under their head. Their lips trembled around the word. “T- To-ori…”

“Yeah, Gray. It’s me. I’m so…I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…you almost died, for…for me…”

“Tori, don’t. You can talk about this when they’re more awake.”

“Sorry, I’m sorry…” A sniffle. A hand in theirs. It was warm, and they squeezed. “There you go, Gray, hold on to me… We’re safe…”

I’ll never let you go. Never let you go again. Never let him hurt you again.

“He’s d-dead, Gray, he’s dead… We’re safe.”

A slow, rattling breath moved through their chest. I believe you.

“There you go. That’s good, Gray. Breathe. There you go.”

“Sorry that took so long… They’re looking a lot better.”

“I think they needed Tori. Needed to hear her voice.”

“I’ll still give some more fentanyl. It looks like they’re still hurting.”

Yes. God, it hurts.

“Will that put them under again?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It’ll help with the pain for sure.”

“Ok. Thank you.”

“There. That should start working within the next few minutes. Come get me if they get agitated again.”

“Will do. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Still, always, that warm hand in theirs.

“Gray, that pain will start going away soon, ok? If you need to go back to sleep you can.”

But I need to see her. Need to see Tori.

Pressure on their forehead. Hair brushing their face. And still, that hand in theirs. They held on like they were dangling over a cliff.

“They already look better.”

“Yeah, fentanyl’s good shit.”

The pain in their chest was ebbing away, settling and shrinking until it was a dull ache. Every breath still hurt. Pain in, pain out. But they could breathe. Their chest expanded and fell.

Their grip on her hand was loosening, fading. Panic spiked in them for a moment.

“It’s ok, Gray. You can fall asleep. I’ll be right here with you, the whole time.”

Don’t leave. Please don’t leave.

The world faded away again.

Continued here

@untilthepainstarts​​, @womping-grounds​​, @blue-flare10​​, @free-2bmee​​, @quirkykayleetam​​, @walkingchemicalfire​​, @inpainandsuffering​​, @redwingedwhump​​, @burtlederp​​, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​, @insomniacscoprio​​, @whumpy101​​, @whumpywhumper​​, @stxck-fxck​​, @omega-em-z-02​, @whumps-the-word

#honor bound 2 #Gray doesn't die ok #whump #hurt/comfort #hospitalization #gunshot wound #hospital #delirium #post-surgery #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like...my THING #tied down #sedation #cw: brief mention of pain medication use #my oc: Gray

[whump-tr0pes]

WIJ: Hope

Content warning: food and water deprivation (self-inflicted), internal dehumanization, ‘it’ as a pronoun, theoretical broken bones, misunderstanding whump, metaphor of animals being hurt, thoughts of death, knives, past torture

~

The demon didn’t know how long it had been hiding at the bottom of the closet. Its bones ached from lying in a ball for so long. Its throat felt hot and raw, a familiar burn that it thought could mean it had gone without water for three or four days. Its hips were bruised where they had pressed into the hard floor, shifting endlessly, trying to find a position that hurt the least.

Truly, this was nothing. Sleeping on a cold, hard floor was nothing compared to what waited for it if it left the closet.

It had attacked a virtue. A virtue. It had snapped its vicious teeth at her hand and growled like an animal at her. It had tried to hurt a virtue. It knew that it deserved whatever punishment came to it. It knew that. But still, some small part of it wished it had chosen a hiding spot with windows, so it could have crawled through, perhaps dropped from the roof and broken a leg, crawled away to a dark hole somewhere and tried to mend itself before it was caught again.

It was better that it stayed. It deserved the punishment. But it could not bring itself to leave the closet to face it. The very thought of it made the creature’s gut go cold with terror.

There was the creak of a floorboard, out in the hall. The creature gasped and shifted against the floor, eyes wide in the dark, pupils huge and round and reflective. Its gums pricked and its mouth watered. Its neck strained and it caught the tail end of a conversation.

“…can’t keep doing this,” a woman’s voice sad.

Not a woman. Dara. The virtue the creature had attacked. Footsteps shifted against the floorboards.

The creature’s throat made a high-pitched whine, even as it shoved its hands over its mouth in a desperate attempt to be quiet. It curled tighter into itself and shivered against the floor. Tears pooled in its eyes and slid down its nose, smelling faintly of sulfur.

“But… Dara, wait…”

Ilya. Ilya’s voice. The creature bit down hard on its lip. Its stomach flipped and its heart ached. Of course they would take part. Of course. Of course.

The door to its bedroom creaked open. The creature’s whine only grew louder, higher, more desperate. The sounds it was making didn’t sound human.

It wasn’t human, and it must never, never forget.

“Dara,” Ilya said, their voice murmured behind the closet door. “Don’t… you’ll scare it…”

“Yeah, well,” Dara grumbled. The creature could smell the ozone coming off her from here. “It needs to learn.” The closet door swung open.

The creature flinched back so hard it banged its head against the wall behind it. It was no longer whining, but nearly shrieking, sounding like a dog being torn apart. It held out its hands in front of it, light filtering through the bent and broken fingers, eyes burning at the sight of the shining angel standing over it.

Mercy. Mercy.

“Ilya. Call it,” Dara murmured.

Ilya stepped out from behind Dara with a look of disgust on their face. The creature looked helplessly to them, eyes pleading, desperate. “It’s not a dog, Dara,” they said, crossing their arms over their chest. “I can’t just—”

Dara clenched her jaw. “Just… get it out here. Please. I don’t want it suffering like this.”

The creature squeezed its eyes shut. It had wondered when the others would kill it. It could almost feel grateful that it was time. No more pain. It would not return. It would not exist, not if they did it right. But she didn’t say exorcise. She didn’t say send it back.

She must mean kill.

The creature’s shrieks quieted and it pressed its forehead against the floor. Terror left it empty and shivering. It waited for Ilya’s call.

There was a shift, a slight change in the air. “Hey,” Ilya said softly, their voice closer to the ground now. “I don’t know your name, but… can you come here? Dara… she won’t hurt you.” The creature opened its eyes and looked out at Ilya. They were crouched in front of the closet, hand held out, empty. “She won’t hurt you.”

That was the best the demon could hope for: a quick and painless death. It whimpered as it struggled to its hands and knees, then crawled across the floor to Ilya’s side. It slumped to the floor at their feet and lay still, tears streaming, waiting for the final flash of pain, the nothing after.

Gentle fingers landed in the creature’s hair. It sobbed weakly, reaching out one hand, fingers splayed against the wood. Ilya was so kind. They were so kind.

“Hey,” Dara croaked. The creature flinched. “Hey, de— can you sit up, please?”

The creature nodded, not even considering disobeying. Its arms shook under it as it pushed itself upright, shuffled onto its knees in front of them both. It tilted its head back and forced itself to meet the virtue’s gaze. Her eyes glittered oddly, and she slowly sank to a crouch in front of it. Then she shifted onto her knees.

That wasn’t right.

“I need you to look at me,” she murmured, her golden-brown eyes hypnotic, entrancing. “Look at me, and trust me. I won’t hurt you.”

The creature swallowed hard, and obeyed. It held the virtue’s gaze, even as it wanted to shift its eyes away and cower at her feet. She was beautiful, devastating, unearthly… but it wanted to be looking at Ilya. It wanted to be looking at Ilya when it died.

As Dara brought her hand to her hip, the creature realized for the first time that she was wearing brown leather gloves – and the creature flinched back, frozen at the sight of the knife at her belt. Its voice broke as it started to whine softly again.

“No, shhh,” Dara murmured as she drew the knife. “I told you, I’m not going to hurt you. I keep my word. I’m not going to hurt you.”

The creature couldn’t tear its eyes away from the angel’s knife. It shimmered oddly in the light, seeming to give off a glow of its own. The blade itself was wickedly sharp. The creature knew – oh, it knew – that the blade was only a few atoms wide at its sharpest edge, capable of slicing through skin and flesh and sinew with a flick of the wrist. It knew.

At least its death would be quick.

“Hey,” Ilya soothed, reaching out and cupping the creature’s cheek. It blinked tears out of its eyes and pushed into the touch, finally bringing its gaze to Ilya’s. “She promised. She won’t hurt you. We don’t… d-do that here.” Ilya’s voice hitched. Their eyes swam with tears.

Out of the corner of the creature’s eye, the angel shifted. It flinched as her hand closed around its wrist, and cried out as she wrapped its hand around her knife – and forced the edge against her own throat.

The creature keened softly, trying desperately to yank its hand away so the blade would not be at the virtue’s throat. It was holding – the virtue was forcing it to hold the knife to her throat. It let out a shriek of distress, knowing somehow that this would only make the punishment worse.

It never wanted to hurt anyone. It never wanted to hurt the angel. It only wanted to protect its friend.

Through the ringing in the creature’s ears, it realized the angel was talking. “…listen to me, demon,” she said. “Be still. Listen.”

Its mouth was pulled wide with terror, eyes running tears as it scrabbled against the floor, desperate to pull away.

“Be still and listen, demon,” she commanded. The room shook with the brassy sound of trumpets, shuddering around the demon like an earthquake. It instantly went still, its eyes wide and staring right at her.

She wet her lips, and for the briefest moment, the creature swore she was trembling.

“I am not afraid of you,” she murmured, holding its gaze. It was powerless to look away. “I am not angry for what you did. I understand. I understand it was a mistake, and I understand why you reacted the way you did. You’ve been hurt. You’ve been wounded, demon. And I…” She took a slow breath in, blew it out between her lips. “I am sorry for that. My b-brethren should never have—”

She clenched her jaw shut, eyes blazing. Her hand felt warm, then hot against the demon’s skin. It whimpered softly, watching the blade tremble at her throat.

She blew out another slow breath and continued. “But you do not have to fear punishment in this house. Not ever. Not from Ilya. Not from their parents. Not from Evangeline. Not from me. Do you understand?”

It blinked, searching her face, looking for a sign that this was a test. A lie. Its dry throat clicked as it swallowed hard. It saw only light in her face. Only truth. It nodded slowly, trembling with disbelief.

“Good,” she huffed. She released its hand and tucked the knife back into the sheath at her belt. In one graceful movement, she got to her feet.

The creature shivered and looked to Ilya. They reached out and took the demon’s hand, fingers gently squeezing. It blinked and made a questioning sound.

Ilya lurched forward and pulled the creature into a hug. It melted into the embrace and sagged against its—

Its friend.

“Why don’t you come downstairs?” Dara murmured, holding out a hand towards the demon. “We’ve got lunch made. Let’s get you some food and water.”

The creature’s stomach rumbled. Ilya released it from their embrace and slowly, hesitantly, it took the virtue’s hand. The leather was so soft, and shielded it from the burn it knew her touch could bring. Her dark eyes were softened a smile.

The creature barely dared to hope as it looked to Ilya. Ilya – its friend – smiled at it, so wide that their eyes crinkled at the corners and their cheeks dimpled. They wound their arm around the demon’s waist and took its weight as the three of them headed downstairs. The creature’s head swam, near-delirious, as it leaned on its friend. It wasn’t bleeding. It wasn’t tied down, screaming, forced to confess its every sin.

It was free. It was breathing.

Maybe it was safe.

@whumpmasinjuly

#angel/demon whump #demon whumpee #human caretaker #nonhuman whumpee #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like... my thing #water deprivation tw #food deprivation tw #dehumanization tw #it as a pronoun tw #broken bones tw #animal abuse tw #thoughts of death tw #knives tw #past torture #whumpmasinjuly #wij21day27

[whump-tr0pes]

WIJ: Secret

Content warning: painful wound cleaning, mouth whump, referenced hand whump (that doesn’t happen), referenced head banging resulting in injury, accidental self-harm, blood, touch-starved whumpee

~

The wound stung under the gauze Ilya was gently pressing to its forehead. It flinched, then locked its muscles, trembling. It fought the instinct to pull away. This hurt so much less than the agony that had been its constant state of being for… for so long. Longer than it could really imagine without feeling swallowed up by the horror.

It was safe now. It was safe.

“This looks a lot better than yesterday,” Ilya said softly, clicking their tongue at the gash across its forehead. “You heal fast.”

It would be healing faster if there was a human living inside the body – if the demon had a human’s extra life and energy to help it heal. It shivered, skin prickling, danger breathing down its neck.

“Y-yes,” it croaked.

Ilya poured more alcohol onto the gauze and pressed it again to the wound. The creature hissed, its eyes watering at the burn. Its pupils blew wide with the pain. It forced itself to lie still, its head in Ilya’s lap, one hand kneading their ankle through the pain. Its gums pricked as its fangs instinctually tried to descend. Its jaw twitched at the urge to turn its head and bite, rip its teeth through the skin and bones and sinew of Ilya’s hand. Their hand was hurting it. Their hand was burning it.

The creature’s mouth watered and it swallowed hard. The smell of alcohol stung its nose. It could never, never hurt Ilya. Even if they burned it. Even if they beat it. Never. Never.

Not like it tried to hurt the virtue last week.

It whimpered softly and pressed its face against Ilya’s leg, shivering at the memory of its razor-sharp teeth snapping shut just inches from the virtue’s wrist. How it had fled up the stairs and hidden in its room, trying to escape the punishment – being bad.

The punishment hadn’t come yet. It was hoping – desperately – that perhaps it wasn’t coming at all. The others had been so kind. Ilya had been so kind.

Even after they had rushed up the stairs yesterday and worriedly thrown the door open at the sound of something banging, only to find the creature trapped in the closet, too wild with fear to find the doorknob, slamming its head against the door in blank terror. Even after they had gasped and pulled the demon from the closet, holding it tight in their arms as blood spilled over its eyes, stinging and blinding and hot. Even after it had cried out and cowered again Ilya’s chest, expecting the knife, the lash…

Even after all that, they had been kind.

They would not be kind any longer if they knew.

A hand on the creature’s shoulder startled it, and it realized it was sobbing weakly.

“Hey,” Ilya murmured. “I’m sorry, I… I can do this later. I didn’t mean to hurt you…” They dropped the gauze to the floor and gently cupped the creature’s face in their hands.

The creature turned tear-filled eyes up towards its… its friend. It reached up with one hand and gently, light as a butterfly’s wing, laid its hand over Ilya’s. Their palm was warm and dry against their cheek. A crease appeared between their eyebrows and they chewed their lip.

“I’m sorry,” they murmured.

“No-o,” the creature groaned, unable to tear its gaze from Ilya’s. “You… you’re… k-kind.”

Kinder than it could ever have deserved.

“I have to clean it, but… I just don’t want you to be in pain,” Ilya said, the furrow between their brows getting deeper. “You’ve h-had enough… pain.”

The creature’s eyes slid shut and it pushed into Ilya’s touch. “Tha-ank…” Its voice broke. Slowly, gently, Ilya drew their fingers through the creature’s hair. It shivered and sighed at the touch.

It pretended, so, so hard, that this kindness was for it – and not the human that Ilya thought was locked inside its head, that was no longer there at all. Tears leaked from its closed eyes as it soaked up the gentle touch and wondered, not for the first time, what Ilya would do to it first when they found out.

@whumpmasinjuly​

#whumpmasinjuly #wij21day21 #secret #demon whumpee #demon whump #human caretaker #painful wound cleaning #hand whump tw #mouth whump #head banging #self harm tw #blood tw #touch starved #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like... my thing #whump

[whump-tr0pes]

Jake/Isaac comf part 2/3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

Isaac Moore works in the pet lib movement, rescuing pets from the BBU. After an op goes sideways, he ends up on the doorstep of Jake Stanton’s safehouse for rescued pets, bleeding, and needing a safe place to lie low. Jake helps treat Isaac’s wounds and sets him up on the couch to sleep until Isaac’s medic can get into town. 

Jake, Chris, Antoni, and Ash’s BBU story belong to @ashintheairlikesnow and are used here with permission. You can find Isaac’s story here.

Content warning: implied human trafficking, past child abuse, discussion about intimate partner violence (that isn’t actually happening), scars, pet whump, past torture, touch starvation

~

Jake couldn’t sleep. Not with the stranger in the house. Even if Nat knew him (and she did, he’d called her as soon as he’d helped Isaac to the bathroom and closed the door) and even if he was pet lib (he was, Nat had confirmed that, too – extraction teams, she called them, and Jake had to laugh at the sick parallel to the acquisition teams that made people like Isaac necessary), he couldn’t stop thinking about the risk Isaac brought. He’d insisted on Isaac getting some sleep before he left again. 

“I mean… can you go to the hospital to get fixed up?” he’d asked.

“No,” Isaac had said with a huff. “No way. I have a friend who works in the hospital, but I can’t… set foot there. Not without putting her at risk. We have a medic, but… they were delayed. Fuck, they’re… probably at least eight hours away, with how far they still have left to drive.”

“Will you die before they get here?” Jake had said, trying to keep his voice even, the way he usually did with the rescues. Even with this man, who was probably older than he was and not in need of his protection, he slid so easily into that role. 

“No,” Isaac said, with a strange twist in his voice. “It looks worse than it is.”

Jake hadn’t believed him, but he had insisted Isaac stay for at least eight hours, get the sleep he was so desperately needing. Reluctantly, Isaac had agreed, on the condition that as soon as his medic got into town, he’d leave.

“I’m not worth the risk to you,” he’d said. “Believe me.”

Jake had rolled his eyes when Isaac wasn’t watching, and given him fresh clothes and a set of sheets and a blanket to make up the couch.

Now Jake lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Chris was fast asleep in his own bed. He hadn’t left his room at all since Jake snapped at him, near as he could tell. Jake still burned with shame at raising his voice at the young rescue. 

He was just starting to trust me, too.

Jake rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around his pillow and hugging it tight against his chest. He was miles away from sleep. Eons. He sighed and slipped out of bed.

His bare feet padded on the wood floor as he walked across the hall and descended the stairs. Just as he reached the bottom stair, he heard a sound that froze his heart in his chest.

A whimper. 

Fuck.

If they found him... Jesus Christ, if he led them here and they found him... Jake swallowed hard, his hands shaking as he walked around the corner into the living room, ready to scream if he needed to – ready to warn Chris and Antoni to run, without having to tell them to. 

He let out a breath of relief as he realized the living room was empty, except for the man lying on the couch. The room was lit by moonlight streaming in from the windows.

“N-no,” Isaac whimpered where he lay on the couch, twisting in the sheets. Jake’s heart went cold and he went to Isaac’s side without hesitation. 

“Isaac,” he whispered, reaching out to shake his shoulder. 

“No, no,” Isaac sobbed, his eyes closed, his hands held down by his sides – no, hands held behind him, as if…

As if tied there.

Jake sucked in a breath and shook Isaac harder. “Isaac,” he urged.

Isaac heaved a ragged sob, shying away from Jake’s hand. “P-please,” he whispered. “I… please, no, I… n-no, Gavin, no!”

Jake grasped Isaac’s shoulders and shook him so hard his teeth clacked together. Isaac gasped and threw his hands up over his head, his eyes darting around the room until they finally landed on Jake’s dark, hulking form over him.

“Shit,” Isaac spat, shoving himself away from Jake. “Fuck, shit—” He pulled back his fist and punched Jake squarely in the jaw. 

Jake reeled back, his own hands flying up to protect his head – but it wasn’t the first punch he’d ever taken. Not even close. He stayed on his feet, heart thundering in his chest. His hand shot out, fumbling for the light switch along the wall. He snapped it on, his hands tightening into fists – ready to end Isaac, if he made a single move towards the upstairs. 

Isaac froze as his eyes focused on Jake. Sweat glistened on his skin, darkened the neckline of the shirt he was wearing – Jake’s shirt. His gaze flicked to the bruise blooming on Jake’s cheek from where Isaac hit him. Isaac’s eyes went wide. 

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed. “Jake, I… I’m s-sorry. Fuck. I need to go. I…” He looked around, dazed. “Shit. Where are my clothes?”

“In the dryer,” Jake said, rubbing his jaw, fighting back the tears – the rage – that burned him. He jerked his head to the side to clear the rush of memory – fists, eyes wild with fury, a thundering voice that made something inside Jake tremble and quail. His knuckles ached as his hands squeezed tighter into fists. 

“Wh-who is Gavin?” Jake said darkly. 

Isaac froze, the blood seeming to drain from his face. “M-my partner,” he rasped. “Why—”

Jake made a soft sound in his throat as he looked at Isaac, a different kind of rage bubbling in his chest. “Your… partner?”

“How do you know about Gavin?” Isaac whispered. His hand drifted to his waistband, an unconscious-looking movement. 

“You were screaming his name in your sleep,” Jake said, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “You…” He swallowed against the sudden rush of tears. “Begging him to stop… hurting you, I think. Isaac, does he…” Jake took a step closer, his hands relaxing at his sides. “…does he hurt you?”

Isaac slumped forward with a sigh of… relief. “Oh,” he said softly. “Oh. I… no, Jake. He… doesn’t hurt me.”

Jake clenched his jaw shut against the words that came in an onslaught. You think I don’t know what that looks like?

Jake shook his head. “…okay,” he said, knowing not to pry. “Then—”

“If I was begging him not to hurt me,” Isaac said, “It’s because he… he did, in the… in the past.”

Jake’s jaw started to ache. “I—”

“No,” Isaac said, his eyes sliding shut. “Not like… not like that. Um…” Uncertainly, Isaac’s hand went to the hem of his shirt. Slowly, painfully, he pulled the shirt up, revealing his stomach and chest.

Jake’s eyes went wide as his gaze moved over the scars that covered Isaac’s chest and abdomen, lines crossing in every direction in some sort of pattern. The scars disappeared beneath the shirt, and Jake saw for the first time the scars at Isaac’s wrists, too. Jake shivered as he raised his gaze again to Isaac’s eyes. Isaac dropped his shirt. 

“He didn’t want to,” Isaac said heavily.

Jake’s mouth opened, closed, opened again. “I…”

“Gavin’s parents…” Isaac swallowed tightly. “Th-they… they bought me. For him.”

Jake’s eyes went wide. “You… you were a—”

“A pet, yeah,” Isaac said through his teeth. He rubbed at the scars encircling one wrist. “I was. One of the… y-young ones. They… the Stormbecks…” Jake went pale at the name of the richest family in the city. “…they bought me. When I was twelve, my dad died in a car crash. Mom started drinking. I ended up on the street at fourteen, and…” Isaac’s mouth twisted. “…and one of them must have seen me. The fucking… acquisition teams. I… I don’t know… what made them choose me, but…” He shuddered. “Th-they made me… I…” It looked like it was physically painful to keep talking, like Isaac hadn’t told anyone this in a long time. “I w-was a Domestic. Officially. But…” He blew out a slow breath. “They… the Stormbecks… They made Gavin hurt me. They wanted him to be like… like them.”

Jake shook his head. “Like—”

“Sadists,” Isaac growled. “Torturers. Murderers.” His hand tightened around his own wrist. “Gavin… saved me. Ran away with me. But not before… before…” He gestured to his body. “…this.”

“Oh,” Jake breathed. “I… shit.”

Isaac shrugged painfully. “It’s ancient history,” he mumbled. “It’s nothing. It’s…” A slow smile spread across his face, the first true smile Jake had seen from him. “I have Gavin now. I have my family. It… i-it brought me to Gavin. And I…”

Jake flushed at the shy smile that tugged at Isaac’s lips. Jake didn’t have anyone like that, no one who looked like that when they thought of him.

He shoved down the blue eyes that smiled at him in his mind. 

“Well… I’m still…” Jake spread his hands. “I didn’t know. Sorry for… for assuming.”

“I don’t blame you, with what you’ve been through,” Isaac said, looking at Jake steadily.

Jake’s hands shook. “Wh-what I’ve… been… through?”

Isaac huffed a bitter laugh. “You think I ended up on the streets for no reason? Kids can deal with a lot more than just a parent who’s drunk a lot.”

Jake bit down on his tongue and said nothing. Rage tickled his chest, bubbling up his throat, burning his mouth. Still, something about the way Isaac said it... without pity, judgement, or awkwardness. It was a statement of fact. He knows my dad was a piece of shit. He doesn’t know the details, but he doesn’t have to. Pain is pain. Abuse is...

Abuse is abuse.

Jake shivered and forced his shoulders to relax. He rolled his neck and blew out a slow breath. “Yeah,” he said heavily. “Yeah.”

Isaac shrugged. “Miss him, though,” he said softly. “Gavin, I mean. I’ve been on the road for… fuck, for weeks, prepping for this op. And I…” He shrugged again, his shoulders tight. “Fuck, sometimes it’s nice to be with… someone who knows.”

“Yeah,” Jake rasped, his eyes suddenly burning with tears. “It… it is.” He wet his lips, trying desperately to blink the tears away. “Can I… can I sit?”

Isaac’s face softened, settled. “Yeah,” he said softly. He pushed himself to the side and pulled the blanket around him. Jake let out a shaking breath as he walked to the couch and sat beside Isaac. He didn’t say a word – only leaned into the touch – when Isaac wound his arm around his shoulder and drew the blanket around them both.

#Athena whumps Ash #honor bound #jake the shelter guy #whump #Ash/Athena crossover #BBU AU #BBU #box boy universe #pet whump #human trafficking tw #nightmare #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like... my thing #past child abuse tw #caretaker fight #kinda #Isaac/Gavin #yup #in every fucking universe #they always find each other #intimate partner violence tw #abuse tw #past captivity #Isaac's scars #past torture #touch starvation

[whump-tr0pes]

Honor Bound 5 - 4

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, and the prequel Vera.

AO3

The Sam-Gavin moment requested by @newandfiguringitout, and chronic pain for Sam requested by @endless-whump and @the-whumping-willow

Content warning: chronic pain, permanent injury, flashbacks, dissoci@tion, blood, pain medication

~

The pieces of the bowl shattered across the kitchen. Sam didn’t have time to blink before one drove into their leg, just below their knee. They gasped at the bite of pain and stumbled backwards. Their foot landed on another shard and they staggered back, blindly, and tripped over their own feet.

They toppled over and fell directly onto their injured arm.

Pain exploded through them, sharp as a knife, knocking them loose in their own mind. Their lungs were being crushed in their chest. They struggled to breathe around the pain that twisted inside them, choking them.

They struggled to breathe around the collar around their neck.

They fumbled blindly for their arm, feeling for the blood, for the pain, for the lack of pain that radiated across their hand, their forearm. There was no numbness now. It was all fire. It was all agony. There were no bones left, no muscles, no skin. There were only nerves, and they were nothing but pain.

Their throat was raw before they realized the sound they heard tearing through their ears was the sound of their own scream. Their eyes rolled back and they twitched on the floor, chest heaving, skin damp with sweat, holding their arm tight to their side and shuddering at the pain that crashed over them in unbearable waves.

“S-Sam?”

“Sam, are you—”

They trembled and wailed against the floor. The pain spiked and sunk claws into their brain, pushing everything else out. Pushing out the knowledge of where they were, of who they were.

There was nothing but pain. Just like when they’d been shot.

Was I shot?

Sam writhed against the cool, hard floor, twisting against the pain, trying desperately to push it away, to breathe. They felt hands on them, in their hair, on their shoulders, pushing them up and leaning them back against something. Blonde hair flashed before them, and dark skin, and hazel eyes, a kaleidoscope of faces and colors and voices. None of it made sense. They gagged against the pain.

“Sam. Shit.”

“Oh, oh god, Sam… I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…!”

“Get my kit. Did they hit their head?”

“U-um, um, I—”

“Edrissa. Did they hit their head when they fell?”

“I d-don’t think so… Zachariah…?”

“Um… n-no. I didn’t… see them hit their head.”

“Okay. Edrissa, go get my kit. You know where it is. My room, under the bed.”

Sam panted as fire poured into their arm. They grasped at it and sobbed against the hard surface they leaned against. They blinked their eyes open – when did they close? – and found Finn. Their face was drawn, lines carved around their eyes and mouth that hadn’t been there… before. Before…

“F-Finn,” they croaked. Tears were wet on their cheeks. “Finn…”

“I’m here, Sam. You just hurt your arm. You’re alright. Can you—”

Sam sobbed and leaned their head back against the wall behind them, shivering against the cold that crept into their body while their arm blazed with agony.

Colleen wanted their pain, and she took it, every day.

“F-Finn, Finn, can you fix it, please, please…?” Sam’s eyes streamed with tears.

“Working on it,” Finn mumbled.

Finn was given ten minutes to fix them up, then they’d be dragged back to their own cell to be chained to the wall again.

A guard knelt beside Finn, wearing only a t-shirt and pants, no vest, no belt, no knife, no gun. Sam blinked their confusion and turned their head away.

This one hasn’t hurt me yet, but he will.

Finn looked over their shoulder at someone and pulled their kit to their side. Sam looked at Finn, only at Finn, desperate and sick and sobbing with the pain.

Finn gently pulled Sam’s sleeve up to reveal the wound on their arm. They shot me. The guards shot me. Please, Finn, please please fix it before they take you away and chain me to the wall again… Their hand drifted up and they reached for the collar around their neck. Their fingers brushed bare skin. They shivered.

Sam groaned as Finn pushed gently against Sam’s arm, their fingers sure and light as they moved.

“Don’t feel any breaks. You may have torn something inside.” Finn’s voice was rough as sandpaper.

“P-please, Finn,” Sam begged, arching back against the cold cement wall behind them. “Pl-please, please, please, please make it numb again, please, Finn, give me something to make it numb again…” Their tongue stuttered over the words. Their lips were numb.

Finn blanched where they crouched in front of Sam. “Wh-what?” they breathed.

“M-make my hand numb again, please…”

Finn’s hand trembled on Sam’s shoulder. “Make your… your hand…”

The guard kneeling beside Finn looked away. He had a nice face. He was waiting for Finn to finish fixing Sam up, giving them time, instead of laughing from outside the bars of the cell door. He was giving Finn time to fix Sam before he dragged Finn away, to be chained again, so Sam would have to listen to the sounds of their family sobbing while they shuddered with pain…

Finn still stared at Sam with a horrified expression on their face. Sam blinked tears out of their eyes and their vision cleared, still fuzzy at the edges, still spinning around them, colors and light pressing down into their eyes, against their skin, so bright for the cold, dim gray of their cell.

As they cast their gaze around the room – it was unfamiliar, but then, most of the rooms in this house were – their heart stuttered and sank in their chest. A bitter curl of terror twisted in their stomach, and they heaved forward with a desperate sob.

In the doorway of the room stood Gavin Stormbeck.

∴

Isaac heard the crash, and that made him look up towards the house where he sat outside, Gavin beside him, just being together in the sun.

He heard the scream that came after, and that made him leap to his feet.

Gavin was up, too, in an instant.

The breeze played with the hair at the back of Isaac’s neck, and he shivered in the warm afternoon sun as he stumbled forward, not even aware that he was moving, only aware that he had to go find Sam – because he knew it was Sam, he shuddered to realize that he’d recognize the sound of their screaming anywhere – and stop whatever it was that was hurting them. The long grass swished under his feet as he rushed to the back door, the grass that Edrissa had asked Gray not to cut, because it was so nice to lay on, so nice to see the imprints of where the family was lying after they got up—

Isaac threw the back door open and rushed in, Gavin right on his heels. He dashed through the laundry room and skidded to a stop on the wood floor of the kitchen as he took in the scene in front of him.

The floor was absolutely covered in what looked like whipped cream. It looked like an explosion had gone off. Shards of a bowl littered the floor. Blood was smeared on the floor in a trail that led to—

Just as he saw Sam, they turned their head and looked up at him. Their eyes widened in what looked like terror when they saw him.

No, not him. When they saw Gavin.

“P-please,” Sam whispered, not even seeming to register Finn’s touch now.

Isaac was across the room in an instant. “Sam,” he croaked, reaching out to touch their leg before he realized their pant leg was stained with a thin line of blood just below their knee. “Oh, shit. Sam…?”

“We were just playing,” Edrissa whimpered, standing back and covering her mouth with her hands. Zachariah stood beside her, his hands held out as if he didn’t know whether to help – or didn’t know whether he could help at all. “We were just… it was an accident…”

“Finn,” Isaac snapped. “What… what’s wrong? What—”

“I don’t know,” Finn rasped, their hands outstretched towards Sam, shaking. “They… Sam, is your hand… numb…?”

Isaac’s heart plummeted.

“Please,” Sam whimpered. “Please, please, G-Gavin, no…”

Isaac threw a glance over his shoulder and saw Gavin standing in the doorway with tears standing in his eyes and a look of horror on his face.

“Gavin, you don’t… you d-don’t have to, Gavin… I’ll… I’ll t-tell… please, no…”

“Oh, no, oh no, no, no, no…” Gavin whimpered softly. “Oh… Sam…”

Isaac stood and held a hand out to Gavin. “Gavin, just… maybe wait outside, I’ll—”

“Isaac!” Sam cried, arching back against the cabinets. “Isaac, don’t go, please!”

“I… c-can’t find any, um, s-signs of, of new injury,” Finn said numbly, crouched in front of Sam, their eyes wide. “But… Sam, has your hand b-been numb for… a wh-while?”

“It’s…” Sam sniffled and clutched their arm, their gaze still fixed on Gavin. “It’s been, um, for a while…”

“What?” Finn gasped.

“Finn,” Isaac said with a shaking voice, crouching again and reaching out with shaking hands. He was hollow on the inside, where there was nothing but endless space for Sam’s pain. “What’s wrong with them? What happened?”

“Um…” Finn blinked and swallowed hard, looking around as if they’d forgotten what they were doing. “Um… they f-fell. I think… hurt their arm again. And—”

“S-Sam,” he said, and there was an edge to his voice that he couldn’t smooth out. “Sam, where are you right now? Are y-you… in… C-Colleen’s house?”

“Isaac,” Sam sobbed, and clutched at their arm. “Isaac, please…”

“You’re safe, Sam,” Isaac said. His vision was blurred. He blinked, and tears streamed down his cheeks. His sibling… Sam was suffering again, and it was his—

It was his—

It was his fault.

He shoved the thought away. This is not about me. This is so far away from being about me.

“Finn,” he rasped. His throat was dry. “Can you…? For the pain, is there something—”

“Vicodin won’t do shit for a while,” Finn snapped. “But it’s what I have.” They already had the bottle out and dumped a pill out into their palm. “I’ll get water. You get them… get them back. Okay? You get them back.” The words were twisted as Finn spat them between their teeth. They stumbled to their feet and stepped back, avoiding the shards of broken bowl.

Isaac swallowed his despair, his guilt. “Sam,” he said softly, cradling their face and turning their head towards him. “Sam, look at me.”

“I-Isaac,” Sam sobbed. “Isaac… he… please, make it stop, I’ll do anything…”

“Shh,” Isaac murmured. He kept their head turned away from the doorway. He could see Gavin still there, in the corner of his eye – Gray was at his side now, gently rubbing his shoulder and pulling him towards the living room. Gavin didn’t move. He was rooted to the spot.

Isaac glanced at Finn. They were by his side again, their shoes squishing in the whipped cream. They crouched in front of Sam.

“Open up, Sam,” they grumbled, and held the pill to Sam’s lips.

“P-please—”

“This will help,” Finn said, and Isaac’s stomach twisted at the pain in their voice.

“Sam,” he said softly, as Finn tapped the pill against Sam’s lips. Sam obediently opened their mouth, the sobs pouring out from between their lips, and took the pill. They held their breath as Finn tipped the glass of water against their lips and helped them take a drink. As the pill went down, Sam gasped and looked to Isaac again.

Isaac wet his lips. “You’re in the north house. Look around and let’s say things we see. Alright? Deep breaths.”

“Isaac,” Sam sobbed, tears rolling down their cheeks. They winced as Finn pulled their pant leg up to check the cut there, but kept their eyes on Isaac. Isaac could have been the only person in the room. The only person in the world. “Please, it hurts…”

“Finn’s helping you,” Isaac murmured. “Take a deep breath, Sam.” He drew in a slow, deep breath, and that pushed away the shroud of numbness he’d cast over his mind as soon as he heard Sam’s scream. Something in him shifted, moved, and his hand tightened on Sam’s leg.

“This won’t need stitches,” Finn mumbled. “Neither will, not the leg or the foot.”

Isaac glanced down. Finn was gently wiping the cut on Sam’s leg with alcohol. They made quick work of cleaning and bandaging Sam’s leg, then their foot, and slumped back, their eyes red-rimmed and unfocused.

Sam panted as they leaned their head back against the cabinets. “Isaac,” they whimpered. “Why… Isaac…” They blinked rapidly and cast their gaze around the room – Isaac noted how Sam’s eyes skipped over Zachariah and lingered on Gavin.

“Deep breath, Sam,” Isaac said, taking both their hands in his now, being careful of their injured arm. “Deep breath. Finn just gave you some medication that should h-help. And… look around, Sam, tell me what you see?”

“I… I s-see…” Sam coughed and whined softly against the pain. “K-kitchen?” Their eyebrows pulled together. “Why… in the kitchen?”

“You’re north, Sam,” Isaac said heavily. “Do you remember…? We made it north. We’ve been north for… a-a month.” They drew in a slow, quavering breath, and he nodded. “There you go, Sam. There you go. Good. Take another deep breath, there you go. Are you with me?”

Sam’s gaze finally returned to Isaac’s. Their lips trembled, and they nodded. “Isaac…” They pulled their hands out of his grasp and gently touched their right hand with their left, their fingers brushing against the skin from front to back and front again… as if feeling the sensation on one side, and the numbness on the other.

“Th-that medication is gonna take a bit longer to kick in,” Finn said flatly. “But… Sam, it looks like the pain is… is a little… better?” The lines on their face looked deeper than they ever had been. “Sam… your hand… wh-why didn’t you… tell me?”

Sam swallowed hard and wrapped their uninjured hand around their other wrist. “Um… I… I w-was hoping it would… g-get better on its own.”

Finn let out a wordless groan and leaned forward, burying their face in their hands.

Sam bit their lip and whimpered. “F-Finn…”

“We can talk about it later,” Finn whispered. They raised their head. Their eyes were haunted, faded, swimming with tears.

Sam nodded weakly. They raised their gaze to Gavin. He was still standing in the doorway. Isaac doubted anything could have moved him from that spot.

“Gavin,” Sam murmured, their lip trembling. Their face was clouded with… with guilt, why would Sam ever feel guilty? It wasn’t their fault, it was Isaac’s, it was Isaac’s…

He forced down his tears, and forced down the darkness that had settled in his chest again. I never helped them by thinking that.

Sam cleared their throat. “Gavin, I’m s-sorry…”

“N-no,” he stammered as he fell forward a step. He kicked a piece of bowl and it skittered across the floor. He didn’t seem to notice. “Sam… you don’t ha-have to… apologize, Sam, it’s, it’s okay…”

“I know… you’re not going to hurt me,” Sam rasped, trembling from head to toe. They drew in another breath and whined softly, clutching their arm. “And I’m… I’m… sorry.” They blinked and looked at the ceiling, before their gaze drifted to where Edrissa and Zachariah stood. “I… I’m sorry. It was just… a-a game—”

“And it still is,” Gray said from Gavin’s side. “It was a game, and it was fun, and it was an accident that you got hurt, Sam.” Their mouth made a thin line. “It’s no one’s fault.” They cocked an eyebrow, and threw a painful-looking half-smile at Sam, Edrissa, and Zachariah. “Although, I’m wondering if you knew how much I was looking forward to having some of that whipped cream with the berries from the garden for dessert tonight.”

“I’ll make more,” Edrissa whispered, looking away from Sam for the first time to meet Gray’s gaze.

“And I’ll get a mop,” Gray said. They squeezed Gavin’s shoulder, and then went to the supply closet in the living room. “Isaac, if you could get the large pieces of the bowl? I don’t have shoes on.”

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#honor bound 5 #Sam whump #it all goes wroooong #chronic pain tw #permanent injury tw #flashbacks tw #dissociation tw #past torture #past captivity #blood tw #pain medication tw #Isaac's self-loathing #the trouple #whumpees misunderstanding the caretaker and thinking they're going to be tortured again is like... my thing