#Knees Buckling

[esbee-daisy]

Give me a long, drawn out collapse. Like a collapse that takes a literal 3 minutes from the time Whumpee / Caretaker notices something is off, to the actual passing out.

Caretaker doesn’t know how rough Whumpee is feeling, and pulls them out of a chair so enthusiastically. Only to cause Whumpee’s whole world to spin. Caretaker is luckily still holding Whumpee by the arms, so when Whumpee starts to wilt forward Caretaker is able to tighten their hold under their elbows and keep them standing. Caretaker is understandably alarmed, and kind of too shocked to do anything other than look at Whumpee for a moment. And that’s all the time it takes for Whumpee’s color to completely and noticably drain from their face, their eyes to start rolling in their head - then eyelids fluttering as they struggle to get their vision back. Their knees are buckling and locking in a desperate attempt to keep their body upright. They’re trying to mutter something out to Caretaker but words are lost and tiny whimpers and sounds are all that come. Caretaker is now unfrozen, the initial reaction caused by the shock and panic of what they were seeing, and now are jumping into action. They step forward to wrap their arms fully around Whumpee and support all of their weight. Whumpee’s head flops into Caretakers chest and once they feel Caretakers body encompass their own, their mind seems to take it as permission to give up the battle and fade into the darkness. Caretaker’s plan to sit Whumpee back in the chair is forgotten as they feel Whumpee go completely limp in their arms.

[thebananadiplomat]

Reminiscing about that one time i got to kiss a really pretty girl during pride month

[whumpypepsigal]

Whumptober 2022 | No. 19: ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

knees buckling | repeatedly passing out | head lolling

Blood & Treasure s02e13: “Danny. Hey. Wake up. Help's on the way. Help's on the way.” — “I'm sorry I'm bleeding all over you.”

[aceofwhump]

No. 19 ENOUGH IS ENOUGH: Knees Buckling

Aftermath (2021) | The Mentalist 1x16 | Supernatural 8x16 | Dark Angel 2x01 | 9-1-1- 3x03 | Cursed 1x10 | Killjoys 4x01 | Lucifer 1x04 | Shut Eye 1x02 | Sherlock 1x03 | Broadchurch 1x06 | Buffy the Vampire Slayer 3x21 | Pacific Rim | Stargate SG-1 9x04 | Once Upon a Time 7x20 | The Book of Boba Fett 1x05

[random-fandom-whump]

Whumptober Day 19: Knees Buckling ↳ 9-1-1 S03E15

[ladtheove]

A coffee date gone a little wrong.

[riverflowsanywherebuthere]

Hc that all the wolves hold their mate by slipping a hand under their shirts and holding their waists skin to skin.

They can hold it normally too but they like feeling the skin on skin contact

[veeisgayasf]

✨Screaming✨

[promptsforyourwhumpfic]

Whumptober #19: Enough Is Enough

Option: Knees Buckling

The second their feet crossed the threshold, their legs buckled beneath them. They were unconscious before they even hit the floor/the waiting embrace of a friend.

[pandoraslxna]

i beg yall go and listen to this editors voiceover omg

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober day 19 — Knees buckling, Repeatedly passing out

We’re at the time of the month where I only have ideas for like three more of these PANIC TIME

This one is rushed and it shows, but it’s something! Legend and Wind sorta focus hahaha I’m tired

Not really any warnings for today, it’s a sickfic basically but not the throw up kind

Ao3 link

————————————————————

“Veteran? Are you okay?”

Legend blinked, then looked over at Wind, who was giving him a slightly suspicious look.

He ignored the urge to clear his throat, and tried to perk up, banishing the exhaustion that had been plaguing him the past day or two. A sudden cold had decided to descend upon him, and he’d been staunchly ignoring its effects, despite the fact that he only continued to feel worse.

“Why do you ask?” he replied, carefully making sure his voice didn’t croak.

“Because you’ve been clearing your throat all morning and also been staying all the way at the back of the group, which you never do,” Wind huffed. “And I can hear your breathing all the way over here. Something’s up with you. Did you get enough sleep last night?”

Legend scoffed, and continued down the path, ignoring how much of an effort it took to keep his legs under him.

“I’m fine sailor,” he muttered, too tired to think of a better reply. His voice scraped his throat as it came out, making his words sound raspy, and Wind definitely picked up on it.

He heard the sailor’s steps speed a little to catch up to him, then felt a hand tug his sleeve.

“Vet, that sounds pretty bad,” Wind said in a much more worried voice than before. Legend frowned and tried to shake the sailor’s hand off, but Wind tightened his grip, moving so he was looking Legend in the eye.

“Knock it off sailor,” Legend rasped, too tired to bother disguising it.

Wind crossed his arms. “No. I know a sick person when I hear one, even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself. Stay here, I’m gonna go get the captain.”

“Don’t you dare!”

Wind ignored him and began to march away, but he’d barely turned around before Legend’s vision suddenly swirled, and he wobbled, even though he wasn’t moving.

“Uh... sailor?” he mumbled, and Wind turned back towards him, eyes going wide.

Legend’s knees buckled, and Wind yelped, barely managing to charge back and catch him. He lowered him to a sitting position as Legend’s head swam, and Wind pressed a hand to his face.

“Mm-hm. That’s what I thought. You’re sick,” Wind said, shaking his head. “The forehead never lies.”

Legend tried to formulate a response to that, but everything was rather tricky to focus on all of a sudden, his vision swimming and pulsing in and out. He squeezed his eyes shut, and Wind patted him on the shoulder.

“I’ll be right back Legend, okay? Don’t get up.” Then the hand on his shoulder lifted, and Wind’s quick footsteps pattered away to go get the others.

Legend let out a quiet grumble. They did not have time for him to be sick right now, they were right on the trail of a huge group of infected monsters. If they stopped and tried to make him rest, they’d lose them, and Legend refused to let that happen.

He grit his teeth and slowly pushed himself up off the ground, ignoring the way the trees nearby somehow grew long and twisted as he moved. He got both feet under him though, and smiled triumphantly as he took a shaking step.

Then his knees buckled again and the next thing he knew someone was shaking his arm and yelling for him to wake up.

“‘m awake,” he rasped, then broke into a coughing fit.

“Vet I told you not to move!” Wind’s voice shouted, sounding upset, and Legend managed to blink his eyes open and look up at him. Several other faces swam into focus, but he focused on Wind, who’s face was nearly overflowing with worry.

“‘Sorry...” Legend croaked, than felt someone’s hand on his forehead again.

“Sweet Farore Vet, you’re burning up! How long have you felt sick?!” someone said, and Legend took a minute to recognize it as Twilight’s voice.

“Like... couple days,” he rasped, even those few words killing his throat. “Wasn’t bad ‘til today.” He swallowed, but it didn’t help at all; in fact it only made him realize how much his throat really hurt.

“Well that’s just peachy, what do we do now?”

“We’ll have to let him rest, he can’t keep going in this condition.”

“But the monsters!“

“They can wait. We’re in the middle of nowhere; as of now, they don’t serve too much of a danger to anyone except for ourselves.”

“Let’s just hope they don’t double back toward Kakariko...”

Another hand brushed over Legend’s forehead, and he grumbled a bit, ignoring how nice the cool skin felt against his burning face.

“All right vet, you think you can stand? We can’t make camp here, it’s too rocky.”

That was definitely the captain, and Legend huffed and mumbled something he hoped sounded affirmative. Arms gently grabbed his and pulled him to his feet, and his head abruptly swam. But when he listed to the side, Warriors (or maybe it was Sky?), tightened their grip and steadied him.

“Okay. We don’t have to go too far veteran, just take it one step at a time,” he heard Sky say, and Legend mumbled in acknowledgment.

He took precisely one step before his legs gave out on him again.

Someone yelped and the arms supporting him scrambled to catch him, and Legend let out a truly pitiful groan, hating how wretched he felt.

“What’s the matter with him?!”

“He’s sick stupid, what do you think?”

“Stop yelling, all of you! Veteran, are you alright?”

Legend responded by breaking into an awful coughing fit. His whole body shook with the force of the coughs, and he rapidly felt his remaining energy seeping away.

“Hang on Ledge, you’ll be okay, stay with us here—“

Arms pulled him up again, and the darkness met Legend before he could even resist.

When his consciousness finally swam back it was dark, and he was lying in his bedroll. Something wet rested on his forehead, and Legend pried his eyes open, the lids heavy and tired. He looked around and saw Wind sitting next to him, staring at something he couldn’t see.

The sailor was hunched over himself, his legs drawn tightly to his chest, and his head rested on his knees, facing away from Legend.

Legend shifted a little, and hissed as his head swam from even that small movement, and Wind’s head snapped towards him. The sailor quickly swiped an arm across his cheeks as he scrambled over to Legend’s side, and looked down, taking his hand in his.

“Vet! You— how are you feeling?” Wind asked, voice a bit watery. Legend closed his eyes again, unable to keep them open.

He opened his mouth to reply, but ended up breaking out into another coughing fit, his breath rattling in his chest. He was on his back, which only made the process harder, and more painful, and he distantly heard Wind calling someone’s name, and arms moving him so he could cough better.

It felt like forever, but his hacking finally stopped, and Legend went limp, utterly spent.

The wet thing on his forehead was pulled off, and someone’s hand was pressed there instead, their palm cool and soothing. Legend found himself leaning into the touch, and heard an intensely worried voice start saying something as darkness claimed him yet again.

When his consciousness returned once more, his head was resting against someone’s shoulder, the rest of him cradled in warm arms and wrapped in something soft. He tried to open his eyes, but his head spun the moment he tried, and he let out a quiet moan.

“You’re all right vet, it’s okay. We’re getting you help, just hang on,” whoever was holding him said, and Legend truly couldn’t tell who it was.

But he was safe, or safe enough anyways.

So he just nuzzled deeper into the soft fabric around him, and let go again.

He swam in and out of awareness a bit after that, snatches of conversation and hands moving him the only things he was truly aware of. A deeper voice he didn’t recognize had joined the others, and something kept poking him.

The lack of awareness on what was happening was driving him nuts, but he just didn’t have any energy to fight through it.

So he drifted. In and out of awareness and distant foggy pain. Sometimes he woke up just enough to hear someone say his name or feel a hand on his face before he drifted away again.

But eventually Legend finally opened his eyes and didn’t immediately have to close them again, which he counted a great success.

He flicked his gaze around the room (the room?) he was in, and realized he was in a bed, sheets tucked snuggly around him. Something shifted at his side, and he suddenly noticed Wind was curled up on the bed next to him, hugging his arm in his sleep.

And he wasn’t the only one.

Hyrule was near his feet, head resting on his leg as he slept. Four was next to him, half flopped across Hyrule’s side, and Sky’s sailcloth was covering them both. The skyloftian himself was sleeping on a couch near the bed, and Warriors was snoozing on his shoulder, Wolfie flopped on their laps.

Time wasn’t anywhere to be seen, but Legend had no doubts he was nearby. And Wild...

“Hey Ledge, you back with us?”

Legend turned his head to look at his bedside, and saw the champion sitting there holding his slate, giving him a relieved smile.

“We’re in Twilight’s Kakariko,” he explained, seeing Legend’s inquisitive look. “It’s been about a week. How are you feeling?”

Legend blinked.

“Like death warmed over,” he croaked, and Wild laughed.

He shifted in his seat a little, and set his slate down. “Yeah, and you look like it too. You uh... you scared us a bit, veteran,” Wild continued a bit quietly, and Legend felt guilt squeeze his stomach.

“‘Srry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, and Wild shook his head.

“It’s not your fault. Well, I mean, it’s your fault you didn’t tell us when you first started to feel sick, and how you acted like everything was fine, then kept getting up and falling over and passing out and—“

“All right all right,” Legend grumbled, and Wild smiled at him.

The veteran moved a bit, stretching his sore muscles, and Wind shifted from where he was clutching Legend’s arm, cracking his eyes open and rubbing his face.

“Mornin’ kid,” Legend rasped, and Wind jerked a bit as he looked over.

“Legend! You’re awake!” he cheered quietly, and Legend couldn’t help the small smile that ended up on his face. “For real this time!”

The sailor sat up and beamed, and Legend didn’t miss the dark shadows under his eyes from no doubt several sleepless nights. The guilt twisted his stomach again.

“Yeah,” he rasped, then looked away. “...sorry.”

Wind sighed, and squeezed his hand.

“It’s not your fault you got sick vet. I mean you were a dummy about it, but you’re okay now. But please tell us next time you feel like you’re going to nearly die from getting sick, I think Time was about to go full panic-mode when you kept passing out.”

Legend nodded with a bit of a smirk at the thought of Time panicking, and Wind smiled back.

“We’re glad you’re alright veteran,” Wild said from his bedside, and something in his voice made Legend twist around to look at him better.

The champion grinned, and held his slate up.

“I’m also glad I’ve got plenty of pictures of you snuggling with everyone.”

He booked it out of the room to Legend’s raspy cries, cackling as Wind woke everyone up with his laughter.

[awhitehead17]

Whumptober 2022: Day 19 - Enough is enough

Prompt: Knees Buckling 

Summary: When he receives a call from his missing son, Bruce doesn't hesitate to drop everything and rush to get to him.

Enjoy! :D

“Master Bruce, you really ought to eat something.”

Bruce ignores Alfred as the man places a plate of sandwiches next to him, his focus is entirely on the screen opposite him.

“Sir, this really isn’t helping anyone.”

Letting out a long breath Bruce turns to his father figure to send him an annoyed glare. “I can’t stop looking Alfred. He’s been missing for five days now. Who knows what’s happened to him or where he could be right now. We have absolutely no leads and I’m not going to stop until I find him.”

With his usual level of calmness, Alfred straightens up and tries to reason with him. “Master Bruce, we are all worried about Master Tim, however running your ragged until you collapse isn’t going to help find him any quicker. You need to look after yourself so when we do find Master Tim you are fighting fit and able to help him.”

Bruce clenches his teeth. He hates it when Alfred is right. He has to admit ever since they realised that Tim is missing, the teenager never making it home after being out with friends, he’s been non-stop in trying to find out what happened to his son. All the family have been going non-stop in order to try and find him. So far they haven’t had any luck and every passing minute Bruce’s concern grows.

Turning away from the computer screen Bruce goes to answer Alfred but he's stopped when his phone begins to ring. Running a hand over his face, Bruce picks up his mobile from where it’s been face down on the desk next to him and notices that there’s no idea caller. Dread immediately fills him and he accepts the call with a sick feeling in his stomach.

“Hello?” He speaks into the phone. There’s a long pause afterwards and all Bruce could hear was heavy breathing on the other side. When no one speaks up for a while Bruce is about to hang up when he suddenly hears a weak and frail voice come through the speaker. The voice makes Bruce freeze and all of a sudden hope sparks inside of him.

“Tim?” He looks over at Alfred with wide eyes, noticing how intensely the elderly man is already watching him.

“-uce?”

“Tim is that you? Can you hear me bud?” Bruce could feel his heart pounding inside his chest and millions of questions flood his mind. Putting his phone on speaker he turns to the computer in order to try and trace the call from his mobile, however before he could type anything Alfred is there pushing him away and taking over the task, allowing Bruce to purely focus on the phone.

“Bruce please…” Tim’s voice sounds broken and it sounds like he's on the verge of tears. It breaks Bruce’s heart to hear his son like this.

“Tim can you tell me where you are? What’s around you? Describe anything to me.”

Tim does more than that, he somehow manages to rattle off an address he believes he’s currently at and Bruce sucks in a deep breath when he finds out that Tim is still in Gotham.

“Tim listen to me, I’m coming to get you alright. Stay exactly where you are, I’m coming to get you okay. I’ll be twenty minutes at most.”

Just as Bruce stands up a broken sob sounds out over the speaker. “Please don’t leave me!”

“No, no, no. Tim listen to me,” Bruce is quick to try and console Tim in a gentle voice, trying to get through to the distraught teen, “I’m not leaving I’m coming to get you. Stay where you are and it’ll be even better if you stay on the phone. Alfred is here. Keep talking to Alfred, Alfred will keep you company until I’m there okay?”

Stepping away from the desk, Bruce rushes to grab a set of keys from his collection but before leaving he back tracks to Alfred. “If anything changes keep me updated through the comms. Can you update everyone else on the situation as well please.”

“Of course Master Bruce. Hurry, go get our boy and bring him home.”

No more is said between them as Bruce sprints to the car and drives out of the Manor at law breaking speeds. He knows exactly where Tim is and prays that the kid is still there by the time he arrives. His thoughts are everywhere as he drives, he has no idea what’s happened to Tim and if its anything to go by the way he sounded over the phone nothing good has occurred. His son is hurt and scared and it pains his heart that’s happened to him, a child who he's supposed to protect.

Bruce told Tim he would be there in twenty minutes, he ends up making it in fifteen. His tires screech as Bruce pulls up to the curb in the middle of some old back streets and he carelessly flings open the doors as soon as the vehicle comes to a stop.

Rushing across the street and into a back alley where Tim mentioned he was, Bruce frantically looks around trying to find his son. It takes a couple moments but in the end he spots the almost hidden phone box against the wall and just on the side of the box clinging desperately on the phone is his son. For the first time in days Bruce feels a sense of relief wash over him. Of course he isn’t stupid, he knows they aren’t out of the woods just yet but they’ve reached the first hurdle, they’ve found Tim. That’s the main thing. They’ll tackle everything else once Tim is home safe and sound.

“Tim!”

He calls out to his son and immediately gets his attention. Tim turns to him, albeit sluggishly but there’s no denying that Tim easily recognises him. As Bruce starts forward he watches as Tim pushes himself away from the phone box, letting go of the phone and begins to stumble towards him on shaky legs.

Clearly struggling to hold himself up, Tim wobbles in place and as he takes his next step Bruce watches as his legs crumble underneath him, his knees giving out, making him crash towards the floor. Lunging forward Bruce is able to catch him just before he hits the ground, Tim falls easily into his arms and Bruce bundles him up closely, instantly scanning to see how badly hurt his son is.

“Bruce?” Tim breathes out, it’s a question and he sounds like he's in disbelief, as if not really believing Bruce is there with him.

Bruce runs a hand through Tim’s greasy and unkempt hair, not caring how gross it is. “I’m here Tim. I’m here. Thank god, I can’t believe…” Bruce couldn’t even finish his thought, every emotion is running through him and he’s just so thankful Tim is in his arms again.

He cups his son’s face and turns it towards him and for the first time in five days he gets a good look at Tim's face. His son is pale (paler than usual), he has dark circles under his eyes, there’s bruising along his cheek bone, some cuts and grazes aligning his forehead covered in smeared and dried blood.

“I’m sorry Bruce… I’m so sorry…” Tim is muttering to him, his voice quiet and weak, clearly showing how exhausted he is. Whatever happened, it’s easy to say these five days haven’t been kind for Tim.

Bruce shushes him. “No. None of that Tim. You have nothing to apologize for. You’re safe now and that’s all that matters. We’re going to go home now okay.”

Cradling Tim in his arms, Bruce wraps an arm around his son’s back and an arm underneath his knees so he's carrying him bridal style. Before heading back to the car however Bruce goes over to the phone box where the phone Tim had dropped is hanging by it’s cord. Adjusting his grip on Tim, Bruce reaches down and grabs the device.

“Alfred?” He speaks into, unsure if the call is still connected.

“I’m here Master Bruce.” Alfred quickly replies. “I assume you’re with Master Tim, is the lad alright?”

Bruce glances down at the kid now dozing in his arms. “I’ve got him. Whether he’s alright or not remains the question but we can check him over once we’re back. Please prep the med-bay for our arrival. I won’t be long.”

“Very well, sir. Everyone has been updated on the situation. We’ll see you soon.”

With that they hang up and Bruce puts the phone back where it belongs. Cradling Tim in his arms once more he finally heads back to the car. They’ve found him, thank god they’ve found him, now what they have to do is help him recover and piece together what happened. For now Bruce is just going to be grateful he’s got his son back alive.

[ssa-atlas-alvez]

Whumptober Day 19 (Aaron Hotchner x male reader)

No. 19 ENOUGH IS ENOUGH

Knees Buckling | Repeatedly Passing Out | Head Lolling

Warnings: guns, gunshot, blood, dissociation ?

Word count: 371

You didn’t hear the shot, or feel the pain. It felt like a deep breath of cold air that burnt your lungs. You assumed you were just suddenly cold, you felt far away from your body. Your eyes managed to flick up to meet Hotch’s, confused as to why everyone was staring at you in concern. What had happened? Then you realised they weren’t looking at you, but at a growing red stain on your chest. Your eyes widened as you watched the blood crawl up the fabric of your shirt. Your eyes flicked back to Hotch, this time in alarm, before back to your chest. You were bleeding. You had been shot. Shot. As in with a bullet. Oh god. 

When your eyes flicked up again, Hotch was closer and still moving forward. Good, Hotch would know what to do, Hotch always knows what to do. Part of you finds yourself wondering how Hotch knows this much about so many different situations that can happen on a case or in the field. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You look up at Hotch again, you were starting to feel the pain now. It hits you suddenly and you feel like you can’t breathe. Your knees buckle and you expect them to hit the ground harshly, except they don’t.

“I got you,” Hotch’s words are reassuring and you let out a breath, you give a small nod as he lowers you to the ground. 

“EMTs are on the way,” Morgan says, you and Hotch both nod. You know it’s aimed at Hotch more than anything, but it makes you feel involved, less anxious about everything. 

“I’ve got to put pressure on it, okay? It’s going to hurt,” Hotch doesn’t wait for you to nod (which you do, but at that point, he’s already moving) before pushing against it. You groan, resting you head on Hotch’s shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut. This was most definitely the worst part of being shot. “I know, I’m sorry,”

You want to tell him that it’s fine, but you’re in too much pain to formulate a sentence, so you just bob your head slightly in acknowledgment. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Hotch gently reassures. “You’re going to be just fine.”

[whumpypepsigal]

The Winchesters s01e07: “Dad?” — “Hey, kiddo.”

[whump-tr0pes]

Lamia Lenis - Part 5

Or, a Carlo/Maxim/Dara/Ilya/Dee crossover AU  collab with the amazing @deluxewhump

Or, @whumptober prompts no. 2 “Nowhere To Run”, no. 7 “Shaking Hands”, no. 10 “Poor Unfortunate Souls”, no. 14 “Desperate Measures”, no. 16 “No Way Out”, no. 19 “Knees Buckling”

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Maxim the vampire lives a quiet life with his beloved mortal, Carlo. That is, until Maxim’s friend Dara, an angel of the Lord, brings two creatures to Maxim’s doorstep - Ilya, a human bloodbag barely clinging to life, and Dee, their beloved demon who is willing to kill to keep them safe. Maxim and Carlo find more than they bargained for when they take in the traumatized pair.

Contents: captivity (sort of), isolation, blood, vampire whumper, muzzled, bargaining, offer of implied nsfw

~

Carlo put the heavy blue pot on the gas stove, waiting for the click of the gas and the little rush of flame. He took a seat at the small kitchen table beside Ilya, who was staring out the window into the blackness beyond the property. 

“It's woods, out there,” Carlo said gently. “Just lots of woods.”

“And a town,” Ilya replied, their gaze faraway. 

Carlo looked at their reflections in the glass. He shook his head. “It's far. Farther than it looks from the road coming up here. And it’s cold.”

Ilya blinked, turned their weary, haunted eyes toward him. “Not in the daytime, with the sun out. He lets you wander around, doesn’t he? He doesn’t lock you in.”

Carlo held their gaze, though something made him want to flinch away. He knew that look, that feeling. The feeling of being trapped— of being prey. Like an insect in a spiderweb, waiting for sundown. How could he explain he did not fear dusk, anymore? That he waited for it anxiously, but not out of fear?

“No,” he said. “He doesn’t lock me in.”

“So you could leave.”

Carlo swallowed. “I have nowhere to go.”

Ilya’s eyes narrowed a fraction. A drop of bright blood had seeped through the bandage on their arm. 

“I don’t want to go,” he explained. “I—I feel safe here.”

“Safe?” Ilya hissed.

Carlo blushed. “Yes,” he said a little too defensively. “Maxim… he took me away from another house. A….another vampire’s house. I’d been there for months. I don’t think… I don’t think I’d have lasted much longer if he didn’t take me when he did.”

Recognition crept over Ilya’s features. They looked Carlo up and down, taking in his soft cashmere sweater, his pink cheeks and his soft, clean hair. Yet they glanced a moment too long at the scars of his wrists and neck not to have noticed them.

“Those aren’t…”

“From him? No.” Almost proudly, Carlo added, “Maxim’s never left a mark on me. It doesn’t even hurt. I always…” he trailed off. It felt almost too intimate to share, though he wanted Ilya to understand. “I always let him. He doesn’t… he doesn't take it. I have to give it.”

Ilya raised an eyebrow. “Why, then? Why wouldn’t you just say no?”

Carlo got up to stir the soup, hoping it was warm enough to serve already. He felt Ilya watching his back as he did. Because he takes care of me. Because I love him.  

“Because it’s what I am,” he said at the stove, knowing Ilya was listening. “Vampires like me. They find me. And this one keeps me away from them.”

There was a creak, and Carlo glanced back to see Ilya lean back in their chair. Understanding settled in their features, hardened their mouth. They threw a glance at the demon, who stood at the door to the kitchen, as if guarding it. He wore the muzzle still.

“I get it,” Ilya whispered, nodding slightly. “I get it.”

Carlo bit his lip. “It’s not like… like that,” he said, mouth twisting. “Not like… whatever it is you’re thinking right now. I… I like being here. I like being… being his.” He hated the embarrassment that burned his cheeks, the shame that twisted in his stomach. The last thing he needed - the last thing he wanted - was Ilya’s judgment. “I w-wouldn’t be alive if not for him,” he said, weakly. 

“Is he going to keep us?” Ilya said. There was something different to their voice now, a steely hardness that made Carlo shift his weight uneasily.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, fingers tight around the wooden spoon he realized he was somehow still holding. 

Ilya rose slowly from their seat and took a step towards Carlo. “Is he going to hurt me? Hurt him?” they hissed, jutting their chin out at Dee. 

Carlo shook his head. “N-no,” he whispered. “No. Never. I told you, he’s not… he’s not… like that.”

Another step closer. “Does anyone else live in this house? Does anyone else know we’re here?” Ilya said softly.

“No,” Carlo murmured. His head was starting to swim. It suddenly occurred to him that both Ilya and Dee were between him and the door. And the drawer just inches from Ilya’s hand contained a knife - and a few other things, but most importantly a knife, a sharp one for some specific use that Carlo couldn’t even remember at the moment. His fingers were going numb around the wooden spoon. All he had to defend himself against a knife was a wooden spoon and a pot of hot soup - at least until Maxim returned with the key to Dee’s muzzle. Something about a specific type of iron, angel power type of stuff… 

Carlo couldn’t remember right now. His throat tightened, and he felt the heat of the stove against his back. “Ilya…” he said softly.

“We can’t be trapped again,” Ilya said, and their voice cracked. Their hands were shaking at their sides. “Me and Dee. We can’t. And the Vampire wouldn’t take the bait, so…” 

They took another step closer. Carlo let out a soft, airy sound of fear, and smelled the back of his shirt begin to singe. “P-please,” he croaked. 

Ilya slid to their knees in front of Carlo, head bent, shoulders bowing with bitter exhaustion. Dee whimpered softly and glanced down the hall. Carlo’s stomach roiled. 

“Please,” Ilya breathed, and tipped back their head. Their eyes were rimmed with tears. “Please, just… tell me what you want. If you get us out, I’ll… I’ll do anything.” Their chin quivered. A tear rolled down their cheek. They raised one shaking hand and traced their cold fingertips along the waistband of Carlo’s soft woolen pants.

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[whumpookies]

Whumptober2022 Enough is Enough

Day 19. Prompt: Knees buckling.

Series: Poyraz karayel @whumptober @whumptober-archive