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sparrowsage · 5 months

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The Warehouse: Digging Up Old Memories

Buckle up, because this piece is something. I really enjoyed writing this piece, even if it is a giant emotional show lol. A huge shoutout and thanks to @flowersarefreetherapy for giving me the general idea for this piece! I hope I did it justice! And thank you to @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, and @whumpcereal for cheering me on as always!

HEED THE WARNINGS FOR THIS ONE!!!

TW: Minor whump (Jayden is 14), head injury, threatened noncon drugging, implied noncon (off screen), threatened noncon, mentions of past noncon and torture, implied future noncon, character death (off screen), suicidal thoughts, adult character referred to as 'boy', adult language, heavy grieving ((If I missed anything, please tell me and I'll add it!))

“No, I’m sick of doing this shit!” Jayden yelled, stepping back from Logan as the Keeper moved in closer, towering over the teen. “You never stay true to your word! I can’t let you stand by and hurt Sparrow after I’ve done everything you’ve asked me to do!”

Sparrow stared at the two of them, wide-eyed as fear grabbed hold of him. Sure, Sparrow’s challenged the Keeper’s here plenty of times, but that was because whatever ended up happening would happen to him. Jayden fighting back like this? All for his sake? It was thoughtful, but he couldn’t handle the wrath of the Keepers.

Logan backed Jayden up against the wall, his hand shooting forward to the kid’s neck, taking hold of his throat in a tight grip just shy of suffocating him.

“I’d be real careful about your choice here, boy. That piece of shit over there doesn’t deserve a hero, let alone a scrawny one such as yourself. Everyone always comes to the realization that they can’t escape this fate, one way or another. It’s easier for the both of you if you just follow my orders. So what’ll it be, pretty boy? Are you going to show me and the bastard here how much of a good listener you are and suck me off or are you going to continue your little defiant act thinking you can best me?”

Jayden’s hands were around the Keeper’s wrist, doing his best to try and scratch Logan in an attempt to get the hand off his neck, but it wasn’t working. He was too weak. At the question, Jayden stared right back at Logan, his expression sharp enough to cut diamonds.

“Jayden, please-,” Sparrow tried, on the verge of getting up from his spot against the wall by the door. Logan had told him to stay put and that if he moved, he’d force Sparrow to watch the worst Showing he’d ever put Jayden through.

“Shut up, runt,” Logan growled, his head turning slightly in Sparrow’s direction. “He has to make this decision on his own.”

There was silence for a couple seconds and Sparrow could feel the anger rolling off the both of them in waves.

“You and this whole place can go rot in hell. I’m not following another one of your stupid orders just because you think you deserve respect,” Jayden finally spat, bracing himself against the wall before kicking his foot out, his heel landing a direct hit to Logan’s crotch.

The Keeper could hardly brace himself before Jayden’s foot connected with his crotch, Logan doubling over for a moment, his hand never leaving Jayden’s throat, before a loud, angry scream erupted out of his mouth.

In a fluid motion, Logan used all the strength he could muster and lifted Jayden by his neck and threw him to the left over by his desk. Sparrow watched on in horror as he saw the fear and terror flash across Jayden’s eyes as he went flying before the back of the teen’s head connected with the sharp corner of Logan’s desk. He crumpled to the floor as Logan doubled over again, letting out small groans of pain.

“Jayden!” Sparrow shouted, his body jerking momentarily as he went to get up, but remembered Logan’s threat from earlier, causing him to stay in place.

He wasn’t getting up and there was blood leaking out onto the floor. Sparrow couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

“Jayden, get up!” he cried out, Sparrow’s whole body frozen in fear.

“Shut the fuck up!” Logan yelled, his head turning sharply to look at Sparrow.

“No, please, he’s not getting up!” Sparrow pleaded, his fists white with how tight they were balled up. “Please, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want, just take him to the medical ward, please!”

Logan chuckled slightly as he was finally able to stand up straight again. “Oh, you think a bit of pleading will convince me to get him treated? As if. The little shit deserved it, thinking he could fight back like that. Besides, you stupid mutts always seem to recover. He’ll be fine come tomorrow.”

Instead of continuing on with what he had planned, Logan gave one last look to Jayden and Sparrow before deciding to leave his office. There’d be time to do things with them later.

Sparrow let out a snarl as Logan passed him to leave, waiting for the door to shut before he rushed over to Jayden, his hands hovering over his body, afraid that a single touch would make his friend crumble into dust.

#####

“No, you have to let me stay with him!” Sparrow shouted, desperately trying to fight his way out of Josh’s grip on him. “Let me go!”

“You’re scheduled for a Showing and there’s no way you’re missing it,” Josh growled, his grip seeming to get tighter the more Sparrow fought. “He’ll be fine and you’ll get to go back to the main room and see him once the Showing is over.”

“No, he needs me to stay with him since you fuckers won’t take him to the medical ward! Let go of me!”

Josh stopped trying to drag Sparrow forward and out of Logan’s office, instead pulling him in close with an iron tight grip on both his wrists. Their faces were mere inches apart and Sparrow could feel the warmth of his breath. “I won’t hesitate to inject you full of muscle relaxers, boy. You know as much as I do that you’ll do anything to fight back during these things, so do you really want to give up being able to move all because you want to sit by your little friend?”

Sparrow’s body froze at the threat, his eyes going wide for a moment. Josh was right, he couldn’t go through a Showing drugged up like that. He’d have no control (not that he did during Showings) over anything. He couldn’t get injected with that stuff.

Josh smirked as Sparrow stayed still, finally continuing towards the door to the office. “That’s what I thought. Once it’s over, you’ll be able to spend as much time with the little runt as you want.”

#####

Sparrow wasn’t proud of the Showing he just went through. It had to have been the most compliant he’s ever been during one, but he didn’t want it to be dragged out. His only thought and priority was getting back to Jayden to make sure he was okay.

Josh had been surprised with how compliant he had been, as was the audience that showed up to watch. It was utterly embarrassing, but he didn’t care enough to not do it. He would have been the most compliant pet in the entire facility if it had meant getting out of that Showroom faster.

Once the Showing was done, Josh walked him back to the main hallway before leaving him there to do his own thing. The moment Josh left him, Sparrow started running to the main rooms, his heart rate picking up as he tried to get to the room as fast as he could.

Sparrow was almost certain Logan would have moved him out of his office during the Showing, so the most logical place to put him would be one of the main rooms. That, or Jayden had woken up and Logan kicked him out of his office and he made his way to their spot in one of the main rooms. If Sparrow didn’t see him in there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

When Sparrow finally made it to the doorway that led into the main room he and Jayden usually ended up in, he scanned the entire room, trying desperately to locate his friend. His anxiety was starting to climb with each face he saw, none of them being the young teen before his eyes landed on a figure in the corner where Jayden and him sat most of the time.

He was there, sitting in his normal spot, looking completely fine. Jayden was waiting for him.

Sparrow did his best to make it over to the back corner of the room, nearly tripping over several pets as they tried to sleep or just pass time, not even bothering to let out any kind of apology before making it over to his friend.

“Jayden!” he called out, falling to his knees in front of his friend before embracing the teen in a tight hug.

“You’re okay! You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” he said, his voice going quiet as he spoke, letting things sink in. His friend was okay, he was alive and that was all Sparrow cared about.

“Of course I’m okay. Do you really think a bump on the head would keep me down?” Jayden joked, hugging Sparrow back.

Sparrow pulled back slightly, his hands still on Jayden’s shoulders, afraid that if he let go, Jayden would disappear. “It’s just - you collapsed once your head hit the desk, a-and Logan refused to bring you to the medical ward, and then I was dragged off for a Showin-”

“Sparrow,” Jayden interrupted, his voice a bit firm, “I’m alright, I promise. I can’t die that easily. Besides, we promised each other we’d find a way to escape this place some day. I can’t go back on my word, now can I?”

Sparrow wiped at his eyes, tears starting to form. “I’m just happy you’re okay. And you’re right, we are going to escape this place one day. Just please don’t go pissing off any more Keeper’s. Leave that to me, I can handle it.”

Just then, the entire main room started to fade out, a black abyss surrounding the two of them. Sparrow didn’t even notice, his entire focus was on his friend.

Jayden looked at Sparrow with a soft smile, his head slightly tilted to the side.

“I know you can. That fighting spirit is what’s giving me hope that you’ll be able to make it out of here alive. If you hold onto that, you’ll be able to escape. Just keep fighting. For the both of us.”

Sparrow faltered a bit at that. “W-wait, what do you mean by that? We’re going to get out of here together.”

Jayden didn’t answer, continuing to give Sparrow that soft, warm smile that he cherished so much as he slowly faded away. Before Jayden was completely gone, Sparrow reached forward, trying to grab hold of him before he fully disappeared, leaving Sparrow alone in the dark abyss.

#####

Sparrow woke with a jump, jolting up from his spot on the floor of Damon’s office. Looking around the dark and empty room, Sparrow couldn’t see Jayden and was a bit confused, but mostly worried.

Where was he? Jayden had just been in front of him a second ago. He wanted that back, he needed it back.

The more he woke up though, the more things finally started to settle in.

Four days ago, he had been brought back to the Warehouse from his two week stay at Volkov’s island, having gone through his ‘welcome home’ Showing yesterday. Two months ago, Damon had been put in charge of training him, starting up a brand new hell for him to navigate on his own. Five years ago, the Keeper’s gave up trying to train him because he was deemed a lost cause and couldn’t be trained, instead just using him as a free-for-all and overall enjoying causing him pain, discomfort and humiliation. Seven years ago was when he had watched Logan give his one and only friend a death blow and then later finding out that Jayden had died all alone while he was in a Showing Josh forced him to go through, unable to be with him in his final moments to make him feel safe and loved.

As reality came crashing back, Sparrow couldn’t help the gut wrenching sob that erupted out of his throat, the pet clutching his hands close to his chest as he curled into himself.

Ever since it happened, Sparrow had done all he could to repress that memory to the point that he couldn’t remember it at all. All he chose to remember was that Jayden died. Everything else, how it happened, the look of fear and terror right before his head connected with the desk, how much he tried to fight back as Josh dragged him off to the Showing, Logan’s fucking taunting once he finally told Sparrow what they did with Jayden after he died, he wanted to forget and never remember.

He had no idea why the memory resurfaced. It had been so long ago, yet now he could remember every detail clearly, as if he were reliving it in full. It was the worst pain he has ever felt and would probably ever feel. And what made it worse was that his head went and twisted the events, giving him the false hope that Jayden was alive and fine. But Sparrow could never see him again.

After a couple more minutes, Sparrow wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to get his breathing under control. It had to have been close to morning, if he had to guess, and Damon would be here soon to put him through another day of hell. If the Keeper walked in and saw him crying or saw the evidence that he had been crying, Sparrow would never hear the end of it.

Before he could put a cap on his emotions, he felt another sob bubble up from his chest and before he could stop himself, he reared his fist back, sending it straight towards the wall beside him. The wall stayed intact but Sparrow let out a loud shout before biting his tongue, cradling his hand.

Why couldn’t one of these guys have killed him too? Why couldn’t he have had the peace that his friend had? All he wanted was to be with Jayden again, because he was the only one that made this place bearable. His smile and laugh lifted his spirits no matter how he felt and his presence made Sparrow feel safe, even though there wasn’t a single thing either of them could do when the Keepers came for them. If he didn’t have that, if he didn’t have him here, there wasn’t much of a point to keep fighting.

The pain that now pulsed from his bleeding and possibly broken hand acted as an anchor to the real world for him and Sparrow was able to stop the tears from falling, taking in a couple deep breaths before he felt like himself again. Damon would probably point out his hand when he came in later, but right now, Sparrow didn’t care. If Damon was overly concerned about it, he’d get it looked at because unlike Logan, Damon wasn’t going to sit by and have a wound that looked serious enough unchecked. Sparrow had no doubt that the Keeper wouldn't let him die before he himself molded Sparrow into the perfect pet.

Taglist: @mannerofwhump, @honey-is-mesi, @painful-pooch, @whumperfully, @hiding-in-the-shadows, @flowersarefreetherapy, @goronska, @blueyellow8green, @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whumpcereal (if you want to be added, let me know!)

#The Warehouse #Sparrow Cresky #Jayden Cresky #Minor whump #head injury #threatened noncon drugging #implied noncon (off screen)#threatened noncon #mentions of past noncon and torture #implied future noncon #character death (off screen)#suicidal thoughts #adult character referred to as 'boy'#adult language #heavy grieving

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whumpcereal · 2 years

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whumptober, day seven: shaking hands | seizures | silent panic attack

Will's first wake up at the kennel. Parts one, two, and three here. I will make a masterlist this weekend, I swear. Also, this is officially a birthday gift for @hold-him-down. Happy birthday, Holdy!

content warnings for: dehumanization, animalization, forced nudity (non-sexual), muzzles, cages, panic, forced feeding, comments about weight, accidental urination, creepy/intimate whumper, adult language

part four, rise and shine

Will doesn’t sleep. It’s not like he can. It turns out, dog kennels are not, in fact, made to accommodate the six foot frame of a human who isn’t used to being on his hands and knees. Everything fucking hurts, until it doesn’t. At some point, the persistent ache in his back starts to burn and then dulls into numbness. His shoulders feel like they’ve floated off into space, and he can’t feel his legs at all.

Maybe it’s a mercy not to feel for a second, but there’s a part of Will that’s scared shitless. How long are they going to leave him in here? Like, what happens if you don’t get enough blood to your extremities? Do they die or, like, fall off? He knows it’s unreasonable, but still, Will imagines himself as a limbless body.

It’s not exactly comforting. Neither are the sounds of the room around him. The restless shifting of other bodies, already used to their cages. Heavy breathing. A few snores. They are all normal, human sounds, and this is not a normal, human situation. Will doesn’t know how many of them there are, but even one person locked in a fucking cage is too much. It doesn’t make him feel any better to know that he’s not alone. Especially because it feels like he’s the only one who realizes how fucked up this is. The rest of them are fucking sleeping.

And he still doesn’t know where Tommy is.

So, yeah, no. Will doesn’t sleep.

He stares into the darkness, floating on a choppy sea of really fucking problematic thoughts, and he watches as the light in the room shifts from black to ink blue and then a cold gray. Morning.

There’s the snap of a switch, and the fluorescent overhead lights buzz to life.

“Rise and shine!” chirps a man’s voice. Fucking Doc. “Hup-hup! Out in the yard to potty. You know the drill.”

Will’s eyes sting with fresh tears. He can’t do that. He can’t. But he hears the jangle of cages being opened, and it doesn’t seem like any of the others hesitate. A door opens on squeaking hinges; there’s a blast of freezing cold air. Skin slaps against cold cement, and the room quiets before the door slams shut again.

Will is still locked up. He whimpers behind the muzzle, and without thinking, nudges his head against the cage door.

Fuck. Did he just do that?

There’s a soft laugh, and then footsteps move closer to him. Doc crouches in front of the cage, and he ducks his head to get a good look at Will. There’s a smile that, on anybody else’s face, would almost be reassuring; on Doc’s, it just sort of makes Will want to crawl up his own asshole.

“Aw, now, little mutt,” Doc coos. He curls his fingers against the wires. “Don’t get too excited. You’re not socialized yet, are you? It would be wrong to put you in the yard with the others before you know the lay of the land.”

Mutt. Cold shame coils in Will’s belly. It’s all he can feel, since the rest of him’s gone numb.

He knows it isn’t true. He’s not a mutt, he’s–well, he’s himself. And maybe that isn’t always what he’s wanted to be but, fuck–he’s a person. But somehow, the word sinks into him just like Doc’s tracking chip, sharp and stinging beneath his skin.

“Did you get some good rest last night?” Doc asks. “My Annie says you were good as gold.”

Will’s eyebrows crease beneath the forked straps of his muzzle. ‘Good as gold’ is a stretch. Maybe Annie meant it when she said she’d do what she could for him. Though if half-lying to her deranged father is all she can do, it’s not like it’ll make much difference.

“I hope you stay that way,” Doc says, his tone all sugar and honey. “You’ve got a big day today, mutt. A very big day.”

Will can only blink. Who knows what the fuck ‘a very big day’ with Doc looks like? Will isn’t exactly chomping at the bit to find out.

Except he is. Because there’s an actual fucking bit in his mouth.

He should snarl, growl, bash his head against the cage. But the sudden awareness of the weight on his tongue, of his own half-naked body makes him shrink. He tries to press himself to the back of the cage, but he has no idea if he’s even moved.

“Oh, hey now, buddy. There’s no need to be afraid,” says Doc.

Right. Because he isn’t muzzled and mitted and fucking caged. Because he isn’t in a basement that was, until very recently, packed to the gills with human animals. Because he doesn’t know where Tommy is or what’s happened to him or how they’re going to get home or if they’re going to get home, and–

Will can’t breathe. He can’t make a sound, and he can’t breathe. He tries to suck in air through his nose, but nothing happens. His chest feels like it’s stuck. He can’t–fuck, he can’t–he can’t–

Doc slams his hand against the door. “Stop that now. You’re fine. You hear me? There’s nothing for you to get so worked up about.”

Will doesn’t mean to, but whatever air is left in his chest pushes out in a mangled whine. And then he feels a wet warmth spread between his legs.

Shit. Or, you know, the opposite.

Will’s eyes stay glued on Doc as he dribbles through his boxers and onto the newspaper. He can feel his tears slipping down his face, disappearing into the leather, but he doesn’t move.

Doc sighs, shaking his head. “Naughty. Naughty boy!”

He bangs against the cage again, and Will jumps.

“Looks like you might take more training than I thought. But that’s okay, buddy. Isn’t it? We’ve got all the time we need.”

Will’s heart sinks to his bowels. He still can’t draw a full breath, but he doesn’t think Doc cares.

Doc reaches into his pocket and slips out a ring of keys. “We’ll get you cleaned up, won’t we? But I want you to listen to what I say here, boy. When you come out of this cage, you’re going to stay on your hands and knees. You’re going to heel and follow where I lead you. And you are not going to fight. If you fight, I’ll make sure you can’t get around any way but on your hands and knees ever again. You nod if you understand, mutt.”

Will’s head moves, just a little. His nerves are starting to fire again; he’s fucking shaking.

“That’s a good boy,” Doc soothes.

He unlocks the door and swings it open, then turns behind him and produces a braided cord with a big slipknot at the end.

It’s a fucking leash. Will’s chest might rip open if it could. He tries again to suck in air, but he’s crying too hard now to make any headway.

Doc waggles the loop in front of Will’s face. “You don’t have your collar yet, so we’ll use this slip lead for now. If you tug, you choke.”

And then he pulls the loop over Will’s head, tugging it snug against his throat. Doc yanks forward, and the cord cinches tighter. If Will couldn’t breathe before, this is not going to do him any favors.

“Up now, boy,” Doc urges. “We’ll have to get you back to the exam room before the others come in. We don’t want to overwhelm them. I work hard to help them forget what it’s like to be in your place, you know?”

But Will can’t get up. He can’t fucking move. He’s shaking too much. He tries to push up on his mitted hands, but they’re trembling inside the leather; his joints melt like wax. Doc tugs again on the lead, and this time, Will fucking chokes.

“Come on now, boy. Heel.”

He doesn’t get all the way up to his hands, but Will manages to creep out of the cage like a loose-limbed baby, half-letting Doc drag him by the throat.

“Easy now, mutt. Come on. You’re fine. You’re just fine.”

Will pushes up on his jittering knees and slides his mitts along the cement toward the door Annie was watching last night. His wet boxers cling to his crotch, already starting to chafe. It’s a small relief that all of Doc’s other–pets? prisoners?--that the others are in the yard so no one can see him this way.

He hopes Tommy’s with them. That Tommy can breathe. That he’s not so fucking terrified.

But when Doc opens the door, Will’s hopes plummet straight to the concrete floor.

Tommy’s there, kneeling on the floor in front of a dog bowl. And he’s eating from it.

Tommy? Will forgets he can’t speak, and his trapped tongue aches under the weight of Tommy’s name. The sound alerts Tommy, and he looks up, eyes glassy with tears of his own. Greasy brown chunks of dog food cling to his chin. He looks back at the bowl, his cheeks burning.

“Awww,” laughs Doc. “What a good boy you are, Champ. Eat up now, come on.”

Tommy doesn’t move as Doc closes the door and locks it behind him. Doc doesn’t notice. He snaps his fingers next to his hip and points at the floor next to his feet, tugging on Will’s lead.

“Heel up, mutt.”

Will barks out a cough, but he does as he’s told, balancing on shaking hands and knees next to Doc’s leg. Careless fingers ruffle his hair.

“Good boy. Sit. Back on your heels.”

Will does. He’s across from Tommy now, but neither of them can look the other in the face.

“Now, Champ here promised he would eat every bite of that food if I brought you in here. He wanted to know you were okay. Isn’t that good of him? A beautiful boy like him looking out for a dirty mutt like you?”

It is good of Tommy, and Will knows it. If he’s a dirty mutt, Tommy’s a purebred. Will’s head sinks down below his shoulders.

Tommy pushes up on his hands. “He isn’t–”

Doc slaps Tommy hard across the face, and Tommy falls over backward, naked limbs flying. Will forces his eyes back to the floor when he realizes that Doc hasn’t even left Tommy his underwear. He’s never seen Tommy naked before. It isn’t–that’s not the kind of friends they are.

Will doesn’t move, even though Doc’s dropped his lead. He doesn’t do a thing to help Tommy. How can he? He can’t even fucking breathe.

“Don’t hurt him,” Tommy begs. “I didn’t mean–it’s just that–”

Will’s gut twists. Tommy is pleading for him, and all Will can do is sit there, like some dumb fucking dog. Doc grips Tommy by his blond curls and dumps him on his knees in front of the bowl again.

“You keep your mouth in check, Champ, or I’ll muzzle you too,” Doc says casually. “You lick this bowl clean while the mutt watches; he’s got some weight to drop, so you’ll have to do his eating for him.”

Will shrinks down even lower.

“Will–” Tommy tries, but Doc shoves his face back into the bowl, holding it there until Tommy is practically drowning in brown slop. Tommy’s breath gurgles; Will can’t breathe at all.

“Eat,” Doc commands. He lets go of Tommy’s head and then steps back to Will, petting his hair with a gentle hand. Tommy raises his filthy face and mouths at the dog food, his lean body shaking with silent sobs.

“Thattaboy, Champ. Good boy. And when you’re done, both you dirty boys need a bath. We’ve got to get you two camera ready, add you to the catalog.”

Will’s eyes meet Tommy’s, just for a second.

They are so fucked.

taglist: @darkthingshappen, @oddsconvert, @sparrowsage, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @msjessmahler, @highwaywhump, @highwaywhump, @youngchap, @squishablesunbeam, @hold-him-down, @whumpsday, @sowhumpful, @whumpworld, @no-terms-and-conditions-apply, @honey-is-mesi, @irishwhiskeygrl, @deltaxxk

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artobotsrollout · 1 year

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Thinking about TFP again and the fact that the whole Optimus getting the StarSaber thing was only major threat for two whole seconds in TfP because Megatron was like "YEAH?? WELL I MADE THE EVIL and betterer version of your sword" is so fucking hilarious to me.

Don't take this as a super serious critique. I'm not actually mad about it. I find it hilarious.

Narratively it's so bad 😂. The autobots finally get an advantage. They totally could have played with this and make Megatron scramble against the autobots for a bit instead of the Autobots constantly losing. Would have made for a new avenue to explore and make the autobots feel like a genuine threat.

But seeing it happen on screen like two kids playing pretend and being like "I'm a tiger" "well I'm a bigger stronger tiger so THERE" is really funny. 😂

I cackled so hard at that it's so funny how Megatron has an "Oh shit I'm fucked" moment until two minutes later he gets the plot forge.

AND LIKE THERES SO MANY MORE INTERESTING WAYS for Megatron to counter it without just making a copy of the StarSaber.

Also like?? Doesn't the forge of Solus Prime being able to make another prime exclusive relic that's just as powerful kinda make every other supposedly "one of a kind" relic kinda lose it's impact and value? The forge of Solus Prime is OP and it's hilarious. Unless the lore says she made all the primely artefacts in the first place in which case ignore me. But I really thought Primus made them? Idk man Dhdbsj. Even if Solus DID make the og items, the conflict could have been resolved way better.

Anyways rnxdjejd. TfP is a very pretty show and there's a lot I like about it. But man it also really misses the mark in major ways sometimes 😂 esp with the poor follow through of some neat ideas it sets up. (esp the last season oof).

#Autothoughts #This is a bit of a ramble #Adult language

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l0rdlynb · 2 years

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Whumpee gets a new name (for whatever reason), one that's not associated with the negative experiences they've had. One that no one close to them has shouted down to them as if it were a bad taste in their mouth.

"Dammit, Whumpee!" Caretaker snapped,"You can't just fucking—"

"Don't do that..." Whumpee almost whispered, swallowing the cry that wanted to escape them.

The silence, brief as it was, was deafening. Caretaker just stared at them, dumbfounded.

"Don't, what?" Caretaker bit out.

Whumpee hunched further within themselves. They fiddled with their hands anxiously,"Don't say my name like that." Whumpee shifted their gaze to meet Caretakers.

"You don't get to say my name angrily...not you..."

#whump #whump writing #whump blog #whump community #whump scenarios #whump writer #whump ideas #whump prompts #whumpblr #whump prompt #adult language #a little personal for me today 😅#tw implied mental/emotional abuse

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mrsparkjimin18 · 1 year

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Story written for @cherrysoulth as part of the BangtanWHQ Valentine’s Event “Picture Perfect”

“Faster! Faster! I’m cumming!”

You turn your head to the side and bury your face in the pillow, muffling the carnal roars of pleasure for the only man who can satisfy your sexual desires.

“Fuck! Me too!”

Yoongi slows his pace, stroking slowly, holding back his climax. Wriggling beneath him, trying to finish yourself you become frustrated. Decisively, you manage to flip him over onto his back, straddling his hips and sliding down his thick shaft.

“Aish! Why are you rushing?”

His hands grip your hips, a feeble attempt to keep you still, but your need for that high overpowers his ability to stop you. Rolling your hips back and forth, the friction between your thighs drawing you closer to your peak.

Bouncing desperately bringing yourself closer, he pulls your mouth to his. His tongue swirls around yours like a passionate tornado. Still gripping your hips he thrusts up into you until you both release and he holds you still to avoid overstimulating the sensitive nerves in his cock.

The thumping of the bass from the music outside the room reminds you both that there’s still a party going on. Gathering your clothes, Yoongi cracks the door open a bit to make sure the coast is clear. He gives the okay and you both hustle across the hall to the bathroom.

After a quick shower, you run your fingers through your hair attempting to fix it and refresh your makeup a little.

“Do you think anyone’s suspicious of our little rendezvous?”

You search his eyes, wondering if he ever gets that anxious feeling, but he just sighs deeply.

“Who gives a fuck?”

Shrugging his shoulders he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead before exiting the bathroom and joining the rest of the party.

“Hey!”

Jimin’s voice startles you back to the present. Lately you’ve been reminiscing on the times when you and Yoongi would sneak off during parties for a quickie and didn’t care if anybody knew.

How things have changed – no quickies in any bathrooms – the rare occurrences of flirting and teasing has become few and far between. Life has become almost domesticated, in a sense that you’ve both gotten comfortable. The sex is still fabulous, but there’s just something missing now.

“Hey Jimin! When did you get here?”

“I got here about thirty minutes ago and couldn’t find you anywhere, but Yoongi told me you were out back by yourself. That seems to be your favorite pastime now – solitude.”

There’s something about him, but you just can’t quite put your finger on it. Ever since he introduced himself a year ago, it’s gotten harder and harder to be near him without your heart racing. It’s the way you felt and still feel about Yoongi whenever you’re near him and you’ve never felt this way about anyone outside of him – until you met Jimin.

You feel your cheeks burning as they redden, not from embarrassment, but from the thoughts running through your mind.

“Yeah, sometimes I have my moments and need time to myself to…think. Anyway, let’s go get some drinks and catch up, it’s been a while since we last saw each other!”

As you walk past Jimin, he gently grabs your wrist and leans down placing his mouth close enough to your ear that his soft lips brush against it. The tingling sensation that rushes over your body surprises you, your knees get weak and the only thing holding you up is his soft hand.

“When will we have ‘our moment’ love?”

The warmth of his breath against your lobe excites you, but you try to laugh off the feeling.

“Jimin! How much have you had to drink?”

You turn to face him, trying to create distance between your bodies. You can tell by his raised eyebrow and the way he bites into his lip, that he wants more than to just talk.

“I haven’t had anything to drink. I was actually waiting for you, but since we’re out here...”

He closes the distance you tried to create, he places his hand on the back of your neck and lowers his face to yours, you close your eyes in anticipation for his kiss.

Instead he whispers in your ear, “How about we go get those drinks and continue this conversation?"

Your heart is thumping so hard in your chest that it feels as if it’s going to explode. You quickly back away from him and compose yourself.

~~~~~’

A few hours later – and a few drinks too – everyone’s gathered in the backyard around the firepit. The scattered conversations around you are like distant banter as you're only focused on your current conversation with Jimin.

“So let me see if I’m understanding correctly…you two have lived together for the last three years, but you’ve been friends with benefits since your last year at University? You’ve also never put a ‘label’ on what you have, so doesn’t that leave you both free to see other people? Free to have other friends with benefits?”

As he says the last part, he points at himself and winks.

“I mean, yes and no. On one hand, we’re technically single, but on the other hand we’ve also been exclusive to each other for the last three years. It's complicated, to say the least, but it’s worked for us for this long.”

You shrug your shoulders as you glance over at Yoongi, who at this point is giving you the ‘I’m ready to go’ look. Rather than give him a sign you’re ready to leave, you instead look away swiftly and give your attention back to Jimin.

“Three years? Something isn’t adding up. You’ve lived together for three years, but I thought you started messing around in your last year at Uni, so wouldn’t that put you at four years?”

With his eyebrows still furrowed in confusion, he awaits your response.

“Well, that’s also complicated and definitely a story for another time.”

Just as you finish your sentence, you’re startled by Yoongi’s deep voice.

“What story? Clearly you have plenty of time tonight to share your life story. I’m ready to go, so maybe wrap this up so we can leave? No offense, Jimin, I’m just tired and ready to feel my mattress on my back.”

“I’m not quite ready to go home yet, but you don’t have to wait for me if you don’t want to.”

You can tell you’ve hit a nerve – the eye roll, deep sigh and shifting of his weight from one side to the other says it all.

“Fine. Whatever. I’ll see you at home later…or not.”

He leaves without giving you an opportunity to say goodbye, you badly want to chase him down, but you don’t understand why he’d be mad – you’re not exclusive.

“If you have to go, by all means, don’t let me be the reason you stay.”

Jimin’s cheeks are rosy from the alcohol making him even cuter than usual. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol, or the fact that you’ve never sat and talked to him for this long before, but the way he keeps running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head to let it fall naturally is kind of sexy.

“I don’t have to go and I’m not ready to either, so I’m staying.”

He bites his lip again as he smiles.

“Well I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not happy, but…I’m glad you decided to stay.”

You begin to feel a warmth deep inside. You’ve both created your own little bubble where no one else existed for the last couple hours and before you realize, everyone else has either left or went inside.

The fire has burned down to nothing more than glowing orange embers and ash leaving only the light from the patio door to illuminate the yard. The night air is cooler now and at some point you’ve moved closer to him.

His fingers play in your hair, gently brushing your neck every now and then, until he finally leans forward and his lips press against yours. The urge to pull back isn’t there, only the desire to indulge in this moment.

Your lips part and his tongue slips between them, your breathing becomes shallow before your heart begins to race. This is a moment you always imagined happening, but never thought it would actually manifest.

Just as you’re losing yourself in this kiss, you hear your phone notification chime from your pocket. It seems to break the trance you were both in and when you pull it out to check it you’re shocked – it’s Yoongi.

“Shit.”

“I’ll assume your ‘not your boyfriend’ is wondering when you’re coming home?”

You give Jimin a playful slap on the shoulder, your body insists you stay where you are, but your heart tugs at you.

“Yes, it’s my ‘not my boyfriend’ asking if and when I’m coming home. I don’t want to leave, but I can’t stay.”

After briefly staring at one another, for what felt like an eternity, you stand up and begin to walk toward the house. Just before reaching the door, Jimin catches up and gently grabs your wrist, turning you to face him. He gives your arm a gentle tug to pull you against him, before leaning down and kissing you goodbye.

“Please don’t let this be the first and last time,” he requests, his eyes searching and pleading for a response. “I’ve waited for this moment, my moment, but it ended abruptly. I want a fair chance with you.”

“I get it, I’ve fantasized about you many times, but I thought it would always only be that – a fantasy. I never expected us to end up being here – alone. The only thing I can promise is that tonight won’t be the only night, I’m just unsure when we’ll see each other again.”

Jimin releases his grip on your wrist and runs his fingers through his hair, a mixture of frustration and contemplation, then looks into your eyes with glimmering hope.

“I have your number, so if I were to ask you out for coffee, dinner – or just a casual encounter – how likely would you be to accept?”

Biting your bottom lip, you respond slyly, “Depends.”

“So you like to tease and play hard to get? Well, then I guess we’ll just have to see how this week goes.”

You share one more kiss, before pulling away and making your way home. In the taxi, you trace your lips with your fingers, the feel of his lips still linger in your mind.

Outside of your house, you stare at the front door, hoping Yoongi is asleep. Stepping inside the house, you quietly make your way to your bedroom and gently close the door. You bask in the memories of tonight for only a moment, until the guilt begins creeping in.

Why did I drink so much? If Yoongi finds out what happened, how will he feel? Shit! I fucked up! Your mind is racing with so many thoughts, how can you face him in the morning? Will you be able to pretend as if nothing happened after he left?

You struggle to ease your mind and the after effects of the alcohol make your eyes feel heavy. Finally succumbing to the soft feel of the sheets beneath your body, you drift off to sleep.

~~~~~

“I’ll meet you there,” you whisper softly into your phone. “But can you be a little more discreet? There’s no need to bring flowers every time we meet. I can’t bring them home.”

Jimin’s laughter from the other end makes you smile just as Yoongi walks out of the bathroom.

“What’s got you smiling so hard? Still thinking about last night?”

You quickly say goodbye and hang up the phone as Yoongi sits on the couch next to you, pulling you close.

“No, I mean last night was great, but my friend wants to meet for drinks tonight. I’ll probably stay at her house, because we’ll be out late.”

Yoongi nuzzles your neck with his nose before nibbling at your ear.

“Can’t you just stay home tonight? I can cook us dinner and you can choose the movie.”

He flashes his gummy smile at you, but you’re able to resist – tonight’s the night you and Jimin will finally have a chance to fully explore each other. You’ve spent the last couple of weeks meeting up with him – coffee and dinner dates, stolen kisses in his car around the corner, and the occasional movie at his apartment. However, he’s never tried to pressure you to stay – or sleep with him. He’s been a patient gentleman.

“I can’t do that, I’ve been postponing our ‘girls night’ for weeks now,” your heart beats rapidly as you lie to him. “I promise, next weekend I’m all yours.”

You kiss him on his forehead as he looks up at you, he lifts his eyebrows with a sly smirk on his face.

“All mine?” The words roll off of his tongue slowly and seductively and he cups your breast and nibbles at your nipple through your pajama top.

“All yours, promise.”

He presses his hand against the crotch of his pants, trying to push down his growing bulge. You want to give in and let him take you right there on the couch, but you resist the temptation.

Instead, you excuse yourself and shower. Without realizing, you spend more time than usual perfecting your hair and makeup. You want to mesmerize him, seduce him, and make him exclusively yours.

Is that really fair? Make him mine, but I’m not only his? You think to yourself as you pull your cutest cocktail dress over your head, but you can’t quite zip it all the way up.

“Yoongi, can you come help me?”

“Help you with what?” The bass of his deep voice from your doorway startles you.

“I just need you to zip this up.”

His fingers trace from the small of your back up to the zipper and he takes his time, letting his fingers run up your spine. You can see his reflection in the mirror, taking all of your curves in, licking his lips in approval.

“Looks like you plan to have a good night,” he teases. “But don’t have too much fun without me.”

After a playful smack on your bottom, he walks out of your room, leaving you to experience a rush of surprise and guilt take over. He hasn’t been this playful in quite some time and just as you start to think you should cancel, you get a text from Jimin – He’s around the corner waiting. Before leaving, you give Yoongi a quick peck and say your goodbyes.

Once outside you hastily make your way to meet Jimin. As soon as you turn the corner, he's leaning against the passenger door looking stunning – a partially buttoned Dior top tucked into black skinny jeans accentuating his perfect proportions – and he must feel the same about you from his reaction.

He approaches you, wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tightly, before he steps back to take you in.

Words aren't needed as he kisses you passionately, you can sense his emotions and desires.

"Hey Jimin, didn’t expect to see you here," Yoongi taunts sarcastically.

Your heart drops to your stomach, you begin feeling queasy as you turn to see Yoongi standing behind you.

"Yoongi, I can explain. I mean, it’s not what you think, I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

"Great explanation,” Yoongi sneers. “How about you’re having a ‘girls night’, with no girls, but Jimin was invited and not me." You can see him struggle to hold back a rush of emotions, his eyes glistening in the streetlight.

“I truly didn’t want you to find out like this,” your voice cracks. “I’ve just been questioning everything lately, like the fact we’ve lived together for three years. The fact that we’ve been ‘friends with benefits’ for years, and never once did we talk about making ‘us’ official.”

“And never once did you ever bring it up. You were fine with moving in together, you never once complained about anything. I’m just confused as to where this is all coming from now.”

“Then we both have our answer – maybe neither of us wanted it to be serious. So why does it matter?”

“Why does it matter?” Yoongi scoffs. “Because I actually fucking care! Because I thought we were comfortable with things the way they were! I didn’t know not putting a ‘label’ on what we have…had…would cause this.”

“You care, but you did what you did, that’s why I just let things be as they were. You care now, but there was a time…you know what, I don’t want to argue. I’m caught, it is what it is. I’m sorry, but it was bound to happen.”

You regret saying what you did as soon as you finish your sentence, but you both know what he did and why things have been this way for so long. You don’t wait for him to respond.

You turn to Jimin and nod your head, so he quickly opens your door. You don’t look at Yoongi, you can’t. The whirlwind of emotions flowing through your entire body like a tornado are ripping your heart to pieces.

In the car Jimin can feel the tension in the air, it’s so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Love, maybe we should go back to my place for now, I’m sure you want to just relax. Or maybe you need to go home and talk to Yoongi? I don’t know him that well, but I could tell he was hurt.”

You don’t respond right away, instead you sit in silence for what seems like an eternity.

“No,” you finally utter. “I don’t want to sit in the house, I don’t want to go home either, let’s go have some drinks, I need to let loose.”

Jimin smiles, before taking your hand in his. His soft thumb rubs against your hand, soothing you in a way.

“Then we’ll stick to the plans we had and enjoy this weekend together, okay?”

You gently squeeze his hand and smile, but deep inside your heart is aching. On one hand you don’t want to hurt Yoongi, but on the other Jimin has grown on you over the last few weeks.

~~~~~

(Yoongi POV)

Watching the car pull away, Yoongi is left standing there – alone.

What just happened? He thinks to himself. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he walks back to the house, without you.

His mind is racing, he wonders if he should try to call you, but he knows you won’t pick up. Instead he calls a few people to see if anyone’s getting out tonight, because he needs to blow off some steam.

Luckily a couple of his friends are meeting at a bar you all go to occasionally, so he showers and gets ready for a night with the guys.

What he wasn’t expecting when he arrived at the bar was to see you and Jimin drinking in a corner booth. He wants to cause a scene, scream at you, hell he’d get on his knees and beg you to leave with him, but he can’t – no, he won’t.

It hurts him to see you happy with someone other than him and all he can do is sip on his whiskey, brooding in his sadness.

Another hour passes and he still can’t speak to you – or even acknowledge your presence – so he finishes off his second glass of whiskey and heads home. His mind is everywhere and nowhere all at once, but he’s going to give you time.

She’ll be home tomorrow – he thinks to himself – and then we can have a candid, uninterrupted conversation.

~~~~~

The last hour your nerves were on edge, waiting for the moment Yoongi would come over and make a scene, but he didn’t.

“Hey, you seem a little distracted. Is everything good?”

Jimins sudden question makes you realize that you’re here to enjoy yourself, not loathe in self pity.

“Yeah, I’m fine, but my glass is empty. Another drink would be perfect!” You joke and laugh, but inside you’re still crying. Your mind is consumed with thoughts of dealing with Yoongi, but you don’t want to create a cloud of sorrow over what’s supposed to be your first full weekend with Jimin.

“This is what, your third drink? I personally think you’ve had enough, are you sure you can handle another?”

“I’m a grown woman, I can definitely handle my liquor.”

Jimin winks as he gets up and heads to the bar.

Fuck, I usually stop at three drinks, but what’s one more? That’s the last clear thought you remember as you down a fourth, fifth, then sixth drink.

~~~~~

“Let me help you,” Jimin laughs. “I told you that your third drink was enough, but you kept going.”

You stumble through the apartment door, Jimins arm around your waist to keep you steady as he locks the door. You’ve been to his apartment to watch movies over the last few weeks, but never in his room.

“Let’s get you to bed.”

He helps you down the hall and into his room, leading you to his bed, before he walks out. When he returns, it’s with a cup of warm honey water.

“Drink this.”

In your inebriated state, his sharp features are nothing more than a blur, but his luscious pink lips still call to you, they want to be kissed. You rise to your feet and grab his face, kissing him desperately. Your body craves him at this very moment.

He reciprocates, his arms wrapping around your body, steadying you, but he suddenly pulls away.

“Not like this,” he whispers softly. “I want our first time to be memorable, and I know you won’t remember tonight.”

Stubbornly you attempt to kiss him again, but he easily sits you on the edge of his bed. He picks up the water and hands it to you.

“Drink this and let’s get some sleep,” his stern yet soft tone is convincing. “We have all weekend.”

He undresses you, pulling one of his t-shirts over your head. Slipping under the blanket, you feel his warm body press against yours as you drift off to sleep. Your mind empties all of the drama from earlier today and you sleep peacefully with his arm wrapped around you.

~~~~~

The bright morning sunlight shines through the partially open curtains, stirring you from a forgotten dream. As your eyes begin to focus, you remember exactly where you are, the warmth of his body radiating against your back.

You scoot back to be closer to him, he pushes up against you and you feel his erection pressing against your ass. You roll over to face him and see that he’s awake, his puffy face obscures his sharp jaw and makes him appear tender.

You inch closer to him, hitching your leg over his hip and positioning his cock at your entrance. He reaches down, rubbing your clit before sticking his fingers in your warm core and readying you for him.

He lifts your shirt, suckling at one of your nipples, gently sliding his cock inside you. You feel your walls stretch as he’s inching his way into your core. He pulls back and pushes into you again slowly a few times until his cock is coated with your juices.

He rolls you over onto your back, gently pushing your legs to your chest and diving deeper into you. The initial pain becomes pleasure as he strokes rhythmically in and out, his eyes studying you, like an AI learning a new program.

He leans forward, cupping a breast in his hand as he flicks your nipple with his tongue. You let out a moan that sends him into a frenzy, his stroke becomes erratic and rushed. Spreading your legs wide, he pounds into you till the moment you both reach your climax.

His body collapses on top of yours, he nuzzles his face between your breasts and you both drift back to sleep.

~~~~~

You’re awakened by Jimin gently brushing your hair from your face.

“Finally, you’re awake.”

His smile is bright enough to illuminate the darkest room.

“What time is it?”

“Almost three o’clock,” he laughs. “I ran a bath for you, then you can come eat.”

“I’m sorry,” you pout. “I slept half of the day away, now our plans are ruined.”

“No, no, it’s okay. We can spend the rest of the day in. After this morning, I don’t have much energy left.”

He kisses your forehead and leaves the room. Heading into his en suite bathroom, the scent of lavender and vanilla consumes your senses. Stepping into the bathtub, the water is the perfect temperature – not too hot, but not cold at all.

Just as you began to think life was simple, the drama from yesterday replays in your mind. The hurt in Yoongi’s eyes ingrained into your subconscious and you feel the urge to cry. Instead you submerge yourself under the water until you can’t hold your breath anymore.

Maybe I should call him – you think to yourself – No. It’s best to give him space.

You finish bathing and dry off, putting on the robe Jimin left in the bathroom for you. You walk down the hallway to find the dining room table filled with food.

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered fried chicken, pizza and made jjajangmyeon myself.”

He’s even cuter when he feels proud and he did do a great job – he chose all of the foods you love!

“How did you know the foods I love? It’s like you can read my mind!”

“Well, after being around you the last year, I noticed that at parties with ‘fancy food’ you tend to only enjoy the appetizers and drinks. However, when you’re at a casual get together with pizza or chicken and beer, you really dig in.”

You giggle before filling your plate with a little bit of everything on the table. You like this, it feels nice – right — but you know this weekend will come to an end and you’ll have to go home. So you’ll enjoy this peace, because you don’t know how things will be tomorrow.

~~~~~

Sunday evening Jimin drives you home and again the silence in the car lingers, it’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. He promises to text you when he makes it back home and you head in.

In the living room you see Yoongi sitting on the sofa, muting the television when you enter.

“Why are you here?” His anger blazing like a fire that’s been intensifying over the last couple of days.

Taking a few steps forward, you attempt to close the distance between the two of you, but he puts a hand up for you to stop.

“Yoongi, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to happen like this, but you don’t own-”

“I know! I don’t own you! We were never exclusive! You made that clear already, but what about my feelings? I told you how I felt and you still left with him?”

“So it’s my fault that you waited this long to tell me how you feel? You never made it clear that we weren’t allowed to meet other people, to sleep with other people – or to fall for them.”

“Fall for them? Are you saying you have feelings for Jimin?”

“I’m saying I have feelings for both of you! With you it’s a familiarity, it’s comfortable. With him it’s new and different. I’m sorry.”

You don’t know what else to say, you don’t know if and how you can ever make this right – honestly, you don’t know what you want right now.

“Stop saying sorry, it’s pathetic. You left me standing on the street to watch you drive away with Jimin and it hurt. But you know what hurts more? You said absolutely nothing to me at the bar Friday, haven’t called or texted to see how I was, and on top of that have the audacity to walk in here two days later like saying sorry was going to magically fix everything. In case you didn’t get the memo…it won’t.”

His words cut deep and your heart feels like a dagger has pierced it.

“Well, I don’t know what else to say. No, I didn’t speak to you at the bar, my emotions were everywhere. No, I didn’t call or text, but it’s for this exact reason right here. I don’t want to go back and forth. Either we can talk about where we go from here or there’s really not much to talk about.”

“Tch,” Yoongi scoffs. “The real question is, did you enjoy yourself…or rather, did you enjoy him?”

“I-” A lump forms in your throat and tears begin welling in your eyes, because you’ve lied enough and know he needs the truth. “Yes.”

“That answers my question,” he spits sarcastically. “You know what, I think it would be in the best interest of us both if one of us leaves.”

“Fine,” You succumb to defeat. “I’ll go. I don’t want to argue, I don’t want to continue to point a finger at each other over who’s wrong or right.”

He doesn’t respond, let alone look at you, so you go to your room and pack a suitcase while texting Jimin to come back and pick you up. With tears in your eyes, you look at him one more time before you leave, but don’t say a word – and neither does he.

Once in the car with Jimin, again, you ride in silence. You can’t get his words out of your head, until you're brought back to reality by the buzzing of your phone – it’s a text from Yoongi.

I can’t believe you left so easily, as if these years meant nothing. Fuck it, do as you please and forget everything about us

His words are harsh, but hold so much truth. You didn’t put up a fight when he told you to get out and you left without even a simple goodbye.

~~~~~

Over the next few weeks, you and Jimin grow closer, going on dates, enjoying nights in and of course exploring each other intensely in the bedroom.

You haven’t heard from Yoongi since that day and it still troubles you. Jimin pretends he doesn’t notice, but he does. Although it bothers him, he never brings it up to you – that is until you’re both invited to a mutual friends party.

On the way Jimin fidgets in the back seat of the taxi and you finally ask him.

“What’s going on? Is something bothering you?”

“I know you’re probably nervous, because it’s likely we’ll see him at this party. I just want to make sure you’re okay with it.”

You grab his hand and squeeze it gently.

“I’ll be okay, I’m just not sure how he’s going to react seeing us together.”

“I didn’t even think about it that way,” Jimin sighs.

When you walk into the party, the first person you see is him. He doesn’t smile, wave or even acknowledge your presence. He just gulps down his drink and makes another one, finishing that in a few swigs.

You start to walk towards him but Jimin grabs your arm.

“I don’t think now is a good time to try and talk with him, he’s drinking and definitely bothered by your presence.”

You nod in agreement, but can’t shake the feeling that maybe it was a bad idea to come.

As the night progresses, you feel a little more at ease, you and Jimin mingle with your friends. You even noticed Yoongi getting close with a female friend at the party. His intention is probably to make you jealous, but it doesn’t. You don’t want him to be sad, you want him to enjoy life as well – but there is a voice telling you that you should be part of that enjoyment.

Just as you think the night is turning out nicely, you feel a hand on your arm pulling you away from Jimin.

Jimin gently grabs your hand and you turn to him and nod. He lets go, realizing it’s not his place to get involved.

“Jimin, let me handle this. Yoongi, let’s go talk outside.”

You pull Yoongi by his arm and drag him out the back door into the quiet yard.

“What’s your deal? You tell me to get out, then you get mad because I didn’t stay. You see me with someone else and get the liquid courage to interrupt our night? Why don’t you take your own advice and ‘pretend like we never happened.”

“How can you be so brazen?” He shouts. “ How can you pretend we never happened?”

“Me?! You’re the one who told me to forget everything about us!”

You’re seething with anger, you want to scream and punch him, tell him you hate that everything turned out this way.

“Do you think I meant it?” His voice softened, a sadness loomed behind the words. “You’ve been all I’ve known for the last four years!”

“Really? Have I? Well let me refresh your memory, because as I recall it’s only been three of the last four years. You act as if you’ve never felt so strongly about someone else that you needed to see where it could lead – and I let you. I even pretended like we never had anything when you were with her, but when she found out you’d lied about us she couldn’t handle it. So you came back to me and we picked up where we left off, but you never gave us that title, never asked me to officially date you. In my eyes, I would always be dispensable to you. Like a fucking recyclable that you can use over and over again until you don’t need it, shelf it, and when you need it again, reuse it.”

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes, his head held low, he stared at the grass.

“So what are you saying? Are you saying we’re done for good? You always acted as if you didn’t want a relationship, even before her, you acted as if you were fine with what we had. I’m not a psychic, just like you aren’t. We can’t read each other's minds and neither of us ever confessed how we truly felt, and for that, I’m truly sorry. How can we fix this?”

“Yoongi, we can’t fix what we once had, but we can move forward. I don’t want to lose our friendship, I know it’ll be hard to just move past everything, but if taking things one day at a time can mend our feelings…we can get through this.”

Yoongi runs his fingers through his hair, takes a deep breath and looks at you with sorrow in his eyes.

“Give me time, it’s going to take time, but if you’re truly happy with Jimin then it is what it is. I can’t force you to be with me, but I’m not willing to throw away four years either. Just give me time, okay?”

You nod and he pulls you in an embrace as if it’s the last time he’ll see you, before he walks back into the house. You stay outside for a bit, enjoying the fresh air and are startled by arms wrapping around you from behind.

“Are you okay babe?” Jimin asks. “Yoongi just left, but he stopped and apologized to me. He said he hopes we’re happy, because that’s all he wants for you.”

“I’ll be okay and I think he will too. We had a good run while it lasted, but I think we became too comfortable. We didn’t talk about things that should've been talked about, we didn’t heal old wounds, but it’s okay…because if things had gone differently between him and I, you and I wouldn’t be able to see where this ride is going to take us.”

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shimmershae · 2 years

Text

“You think I’m scared of a woman?” (a Walking Dead drabble, Caryl + Merle).

What if we got a few seconds more of that Season 3 outtake where Carol threatens Merle? Remember Daryl in the background? What if he walked over to find out just what the two people closest to him were talking about? Just a wee little continuation in 100 words. Nothing award worthy but hopefully worthy of a smile.

“You think I’m scared of a woman?”

Merle’s words are goading but Daryl knows his asshole brother inside out. He’s just as impressed as Daryl. And more than a touch reluctant to fuck around and find out if Carol means business with her sweetly delivered threat. “He giving you shit?”

Carol’s nose crinkles when she smiles up at him. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Merle smirks at the besotted pair of them. “Must be some kind of goddamn echo in here.”

Daryl fixes his brother with a glare. “Is he?”

Carol’s answer is wry. Immediate. “He’s breathing, isn’t he?”

“What your girl said.”

#The Walking Dead #Caryl fanfiction #Caryl #Carol x Daryl #Carol Peletier #Daryl Dixon #stuff that I write #Merle Dixon #adult language #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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just-a-silly-little-whumper · 2 years

Text

Whumptober Day 7- The Way You Shake and Shiver

Masterpost | Read on Ao3

A monster puts Elze’ith out of commission. Altair has to take care of him.

Contains: Fantasy setting, monster hunting, poisoning, delirium, minor blood, minor adult language, queerplatonic whumpee/caretaker

~~~

Altair’s chest heaved. Fire danced from his fingertips; he had to be careful not to set any of the surrounding brush aflame with each burst he sent towards the monster. His pulse thrummed in his ears in time to the pounding of his feet. Elze’ith kept pace a half-step behind him, throwing up barriers in an attempt to slow the beast. Now that they had it in their sights, they couldn’t let it get away.

The monster they were hunting was built much like a panther, all lean muscle and powerful legs. The main difference lay in its scorpion-like tail, which curled over its head and dripped cerulean venom. Perhaps the large tail weighed it down, as Altair and Elze’ith were able to keep pace with it with ease.

Altair glanced back and gave a nod to Elze’ith. The other man nodded back and threw up his hands, manifesting a wall of magic right in the path of the monster. At the same moment Altair sent forward a gout of flames, and the monster yowled as its right flank burned. It collapsed snarling to the ground, its back leg charred and unusable.

“Cover me, Elze’ith,” Altair called, reaching for the dagger on his hilt. Without waiting for a response he dashed in. As always, Elze’ith’s shield apparated in front of him, slightly discoloring his vision. The monster growled and swatted at him as he approached, but its claws bounced off of Elze’ith’s barrier. Manifesting fire in his other hand further deterred the beast, and its eyes began to dart around frantically.

Several things happened in quick succession. Altair lunged forward to strike the killing blow. The monster narrowed its eyes. In the periphery of his vision, Altair saw the monster’s tail extend. From somewhere behind him, Elze’ith let out a choked gasp. Then Altair’s dagger sunk into the creature’s neck, and it thrashed for a moment before going still.

Immediately Altair let go of the dagger and whirled around, rushing to where Elze’ith was standing a few feet behind him. There was a hole in his tunic at his right shoulder. When Altair’s fingers pulled the fabric aside, he saw a puncture wound oozing blood and cerulean venom.

“That can’t be good,” Altair murmured. “But you can heal it, right, my love?”

“Right,” Elze’ith said, but his voice sounded distant. He brought a trembling hand up to his shoulder, and there was a flicker of white magic. Elze’ith frowned in concentration and flexed his fingers again, and his magic blinked once, twice, before fading entirely.

“I—I can’t—” Elze’ith was clearly alarmed, but there was a hazy overtone in his voice. He started to sway, and Altair had to grab him to steady him.

“Elze’ith, I don’t know how to heal. I can’t— I don’t know how to fix this.” The veins around the wounds were starting to take on the same cerulean color as the venom. Calm. He had to stay calm.

“Cottage— antidote—” Elze’ith murmured several more syllables that Altair couldn’t quite make out.

Then he collapsed entirely.

“No— Elze’ith? My love?” Altair guided Elze’ith to the ground, smoothing the hair out of his face. Elze’ith was unconscious but trembling minutely in Altair’s arms. Letting out a stream of cursing, Altair gathered Elze’ith up in his arms.

There was an antidote at the cottage. He could fix this. He just had to get them there.

---

It took him too long find the damned antidote.

Elze’ith’s condition had gotten worse during the arduous trip back to the little cottage they were holed up in. Now, laid out in the small bed they shared, he was shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm, drenched in sweat and breathing unsteadily. Altair had peeled off Elze’ith’s travel wear and bandaged the wound; the venom was snaking its way through the veins of Elze’ith’s chest, and Altair didn’t want to know what would happen if it reached his heart. He wasn’t sure if his partner was shaking from fever or the venom or cold or some combination thereof, so he covered Elze’ith in as many blankets as he could find and set the hearth ablaze, praying that it would be enough while he looked for the antidote.

But despite the fact that the one-room cottage they had taken over was tiny, despite the fact that there shouldn’t have been that many places to hide things, it had taken nearly an hour of searching to find the tiny bottle in question. All the while Elze’ith kept shifting and shivering on the bed, murmuring broken words in some combination of languages that Altair couldn’t parse. It had been getting to the point where Altair had been considering just feeding Elze’ith his entire medicinal drawer in the hopes that something would help before he finally found the antidote bottle hidden behind some of Elze’ith’s potion-making supplies. When Elze’ith was feeling better, they would need to have a talk about his organization.

Antidote in hand, Altair knelt at Elze’ith’s bedside and gently lifted his head. Altair’s own hands shook as he pressed the antidote to his partner’s lips and willed Elze’ith to swallow it. “I’ve got you, you’ll be alright, just take this and everything will be fine,” he murmured, hoping that what he was saying was true.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting when Elze’ith took the antidote. When Elze’ith healed someone, it was painful, but wounds closed and symptoms vanished nearly instantaneously. But when he set the bottle aside and eased Elze’ith back onto the bed, there was no obvious change. His breathing was still labored. His forehead was still warm. His hand, when Altair cautiously took it in his own, was still shaking.

“Maybe it takes a while, since it’s not magical,” Altair said, mostly to reassure himself. “I’m going to get some water, and then I’ll be right back, okay, my love?”

There was no response.

For the next several hours Altair stayed kneeling at Elze’ith’s bedside, keeping a cool cloth on his head and making sure the fire was stoked. As time passed Elze’ith’s breathing grew easier and the tremors that ran up and down his body eased. When Altair peeled back the bandages to change them, the cerulean veins had receded. Worry still gnawed at him, but Elze’ith seemed to be improving.

It was past sunset when Elze’ith’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked at the ceiling several times in confusion before turning to Altair. “What happened?”

“The monster got you with its stinger. I had to bring you back to the cottage to get you the antidote. It was a bit touch-and-go for a while there, but I think the venom is out of your system, at least,” Altair said. He took Elze’ith’s hand in his own and gave it a light squeeze.

Elze’ith squeezed back, giving a drowsy smile. His grip was weak, but steady. “My hero.”

“You’re always taking care of me. I’m glad I could take care of you.” Altair smoothed damp hair out of Elze’ith’s face. “Do you need anything? I did my best, but I wasn’t sure what you needed.”

“Just—” Elze’ith’s eyes slipped closed. “Stay.”

Altair smiled softly. “I can do that.”

#whumptober2022 #no.7 #the way you shake and shiver #OC #fic #adult language #blood #whumpee/caretaker #fantasy whump #magic #Poison #delirium #flicker in the dark #altair buchannan oc #elze'ith sylrel oc #caretaking #silly writes #whump writing

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