RUNNNN!!!! HE’S GOT A KNIFEEE!!!

My emotional support whump fantasy

SUBMISSION.ZIP

LULLABY 3/3

Again, mention/implication of SA. Nothing graphic, as usual. Last episode! Hope you like it.

The day he was brought in, he made the whole block go silent for a minute. A murderer– that was what he was in for. Which he quietly but sternly denied every time someone questioned him. It was hard to believe him though, as he looked built to kill. Six feet tall, at least, a mountain of muscle, and a look that silenced even the worst convicts. He never needed to use his fists to gain respect from all. And fear.

For Lull, it was the latter. A dull, resigned fear. It was just another shoe in his ribs, another hand fisting his hair, another voice laughing at him.

His name was Garrett. Not that it mattered. But the name stuck with the dreamwalker, after one particular day.

Lull was limping back from to the cellblock, his hair damp from the shower. Cold water, as always, since he had found that inmates would leave him alone if he was late enough. The water left was freezing, but the situation was still much better than the alternative. He was struggling to keep his eyes open, desperately staggering forward. He had to reach his bunk before the lockdown bell, or else the guards would kill him. Not literally, that would be too merciful. But he could feel his muscles turning to cotton, his head pounding with the overwhelming need to sleep. Before he knew it, he was falling.

Hands grabbed his shoulders, his head hitting a soft surface instead of the floor. Lull flinched away, his movements sluggish, but someone held him back. He froze, meeting the other man's eyes, and immediately abandoned the fight. It was that new inmate, Garrett, towering three feet over him.

Lull sagged in his grip, going limp in anticipation. He knew how to be away, when it would happen. Hurt less this way.

But this time, the man held him up instead of letting him crumple. The former villain risked an eye contact, and met a frowning face. Bad. Bad. It was always worse when they were in a bad mood.

"Hey. You can't stand or what ?"

Lull's face did something complicated, before settling on confusion. What ? His knees were weak, but he managed to stay on his feet. Garrett's hands were still tight on his arms.

"Are you gonna collapse again? Coz the late shift guards are gonna kill you if you don't make it to the block."

As if he didn't already knew that. Still trying to catch his breath, and to keep his eyes from closing, he reluctantly accepted Garrett's help, leaning on his shoulder for balance. The corridor seemed to be moving, even though he was the one swaying unsteadily on his feet. It was only after a few steps, when the bigger man's hands stayed where they were supposed to be, that Lull started to relax. For some reason, it seemed that the other inmate was genuinely helping. However, the dreamwalker knew better than to hope. Eventually, everything always had a price.

With Garrett's help, he stumbled and collapsed on his bunk bed. The other man didn't comment, taking a few steps away, toward his own cell. Through the bars, Lull could see a group of familiar faces, hovering nearby. Their gazes were aimed right at him, their smiles sharp. Full of unwanted promises. But he was already slipping, unable to resist the tug of sleep. Once again, he would be helpless. Once again, he would wake up covered in bruises. Humiliated, broken.

The mattress bent under someone else's weight. Garrett, still there. He had noticed the other inmates too.

"Hope you don't mind, I think I'll sit here for a little while. The mattress is comfortable."

It took a few seconds for the words to register in Lull's sleep deprived brain. But when it did, his eyes widened slightly in surprise –and wariness. But in his state, there wasn't much he could do but pray, and he quickly fell into oblivion.

It was his first peaceful night in months.

When he woke up, he was alone. As usual, he checked himself up, his surprise growing. No new bruises, no sore points or body aches. Garrett had... Had actually protected him. But why ?

Throughout the day, Lull noticed that Garrett was watching him. Not the creepy kind, when someone would follow him until he couldn't stay awake anymore. Just... Watching. The others must've noticed as well, since no one made a move to approach him. That man was not someone you'd want to cross.

Lull fell asleep during unlock time, in the courtyard. One second he was awake, swaying on his feet, and the second, he was collapsing to the concrete floor. Before anyone could take advantage of it, Garrett sat down on the bench nearby. The others took the hint. Although a lot of them glared at him, muttering curses. Hovering. Waiting. They wouldn't let go of their favourite toy so easily.

It happened during work detail; Lull was sorting clothes for laundry, and Garrett was working in the workshop. Too far. Three men pushed him in a corner. They didn't bother with gentleness. When they finally left, Lull was barely conscious, his breathing hoarse and painful from the new bruises etched on his chest. He was surprised to find that's he was crying. He couldn't feel anything, numb to the world, but tears ran down his face nonetheless. His body remembered what his mind refused to.

The guards found him like this, and didn't bother with questions. They hauled him up, his legs too weak to hold him. And when they dropped him on the floor of his cell, Garrett was there. Waiting. His arms were crossed and his expression blank, but Lull could see the anger in his eyes. As soon as they were alone, he approached, and let out a sigh.

"How did you survive that long in here ?"

Lull eyed him warily, pushing himself up on shaky hands. His vision was going in and out, as he struggled to keep his eyes open.

"Why did you help me? What do you want from me ?"

"Nothing."

The former villain didn't believe him. But it didn't mattered. What did were the hands pulling him up with surprising gentleness, and taking him to the bunk bed. It was the last thing he felt before passing out cold.

Things changed quietly. None of them was very talkative, and it was often in silence that Lull would fall asleep without fear. Garrett didn't need any warning to catch him before the fall. At night, they'd huddle together. Then, they could speak. Just a few words, whispered.

"I'm innocent. Never killed that guy."

Lull had sleepily hummed, and nodded.

"I know."

It was all they needed. And if the former villain sometimes flinched away from his touch, Garrett never commented on it.

They knew their relationship was fragile, and could shatter at any moment. But for the moment, they were together. And that was the closest thing to happiness Lull had ever experienced. He would never dream again, but maybe he could live.

Taglist : @sausages-things @jumpywhumpywriter @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thataquaticwhumper @alyscat

@whatamidoingherehelpme @fleur-a-whump @ratsupremacy88 @whatiswhump @scoundrelwithboba

@phoenixpromptsandstuff @bacillusinfection @artfulbok @melpomenelamusa

Accidental caretaker in whump is such a fun trope. Like. Just caretaker finding a whumpee on a random tuesday like some stray kitten on the street and deciding to take it home and then actually bonding

Shove your whumpee against the wall with whumpers arm pressed against their neck. Making Whumpee gasp quietly, fear filling their face as their eyes quickly flutter up to meet Whumper’s.

I dont want to be exposed to varying and diverse fandom opinions I love my echo chamber #myechochamber

The bidding to choose Whumpee's death had been raging hard for seven days. Now, the countdown to closing was at an end. They strained at their bonds. It was as useless fighting it now as it had been from the beginning. Whatever the rich bastards who won this auction wanted to do to them, they would do. There was no stopping it.

But when Whumper read the email from the winner to themself, the look on their face was one of revulsion - and that terrified Whumpee more than anything that they had seen or heard so far.

"Well," Whumper said, grimacing. "There's no accounting for taste."

Two henchmen came in and Whumpee was unbound for the first time in over a month. Not for long. They were dragged kicking and screaming toward a flat table, strapped on their back to the surface and left helpless once again.

They wailed piteously as Whumper strolled over, a thin rag in one hand and a large, opaque jug in the other.

Whumpee started to sob. They should never have let slip that their fear was suffocation, never because they knew what this meant. They were going to be waterboarded. Drowned where they lay, and because of the cloth, Whumper could do that to them as many times as they wanted.

"Please," Whumpee whimpered. "Please don't waterboard me, please, I-"

Whumper shook their head. "This isn't water."

Whumper popped the cap on the jug and the smell that hit Whumpee's nostrils was unmistakable.

Vanilla extract.

This user is grateful for the whump community

Pick a character from your WIP that you think is under-developed and write their origin story. Or create a new character, same idea.

“What have they done to you?”

Whumpee breaks free from their captors grip - but not from the base they’re held in. They find a small desk against the wall and collapse underneath it, frozen with fear.

They hear footsteps hunting, looking for them, but they have yet to be found.

They don’t dare look, even when whumper’s noises go quiet. Hours pass and they’re paralyzed, the footsteps have changed to not one, but many. Frantic, heavy, with voices shouting their name. 

Eventually, the desk gets grabbed and yanked from over them. The atmosphere changes from safe, to a cold wave of dread.

“Whumpee! Whumpee look at me!” A voice shouts. Two hands grab and shake them, trying to get them to uncurl.

“Whumpee it’s me, it’s me. Please look at me, I’m not going to hurt you. Look at me-” Caretaker frantically cries, wrapping them in their arms and pulling them out of the corner. They cradle them in hopes they’ll snap out of it, they can feel whumpee shaking and panting, but still locked away like they’ve dissociated.

“…What… Have they done to you?“