#writing prompt attempt

[jordanstrophe]

Whumpee who save themselves instead of waiting for rescue. Whumpee who waits at home for caretaker to find because they didn't know where else to go or who to trust.

Caretaker, who just came home after a hopeless day of no leads for whumpee's disappearance to find them passed out on their couch.

[mischievous-thunder]

Give your kidnapper a minute, Logan. He'll be 💯🔥💯🔥 again in a minute!

[bedtimescenarios]

Recaptured living weapon Whumpee who is about to face the consequences of their escape. And when Whumper brings them back into that painfully familiar room, when they calmly take out the whip, Whumpee knows precisely what to do.

Their feet take them to the middle of the room, and they kneel, methodically disposing of their shirt. As their shoulders roll back into a straightened position, they can practically feel Whumper's gaze burning into the back of their head. A sadistic, eyes-only smile, knowing that even though Whumpee was physically free for some time, they never truly escaped.

[whump-in-the-closet]

a disorientated whumpee at a party with whumper's arm uncomfortably thrown over their shoulder. Whumper’s fingers ghost over the curve of their throat, dipping along the scars on their exposed neck.

There's a spiraling fear that they can't quite name-- they're losing themself in this nightmare of insinuating whispers.

The music is pounding and Whumpee can feel it in their teeth.

Whumper pulls them into a dark corner to push a drink up to their lips. "Your friends are coming," Whumper's voice is low, it's calm, it's measured, and Whumpee's skin crawls. "You're going to tell them you want to stay with me."

"No--"

"Or one of them will take your place."

[a-class-attempter]

Whumpee collapsed on the rough forest ground, their suit tattered and covered in dirt. They had been walking in the unforgiving heat for days without food or shelter, living off muddy river water. They just couldn’t do it anymore. After a few hours, a voice cut through the woods. “Whumpee? Why don’t you come back so we can have a chat.” Whumpee laid there, motionless. They would have cried if they had the energy.

Heavy boots crunched the leaves beneath them as Whumper walked over and kneeled by Whumpee’s side. “Oh, you poor little traitor.” They gripped Whumpee’s hair and forced them to make eye contact with Whumper. “You will never get away from me.”

[kryinthenight]

Kip Max 

Why are you getting so worked up over a beached whale? It happens all the time during this part of the year. We know what to do.

uhh that's not a whale..

Looking back at that time, it was obvious that something was off by the way its lifeless body hung against the sand. As the water washed towards the carcass, it created a slight movement to it. It made it almost feel… alive… 

We had been working on the fishing docks since I could even remember. My dad worked at the lighthouse as my grandpa hauled in huge fishing orders of sea bass off boats. This meant that I had basically grown up surrounded by the stench of rotten fish and sea salt hair making my already curly bush of locks more of a pain for my mom to deal with when I got home. Max was one of the other kids I met whose families calling resided in the depth of the ocean. This made a natural bond form between us as the years went on considering the close proximity and lack of relatability to other kids more inland. 

After years of being my dad and grandpas “little helper” and maxs savior during his misadventures in the sea, we both settled into jobs that followed in our familial footsteps. I had taken up a job in the light house, just as my father, while Max became whatever job he could get his hands on near the coast. This week's “scuba diving instructor extraordinaire”, or so he says. 

This morning started as any other. After my long night shift, I would make my morning coffee and scale the first half of the beach for any washed up trash or forgotten items. The sunrise that illuminated across the ocean coupled with the sound of the salty water washing the sand away was a sight that never escaped me over the years. This along with the first sips of my morning coffee with the grit of the sand beneath my feet became a routine that would hold me together in the worst of times. 

As I made my way down the stairs I was greeted with hurried footsteps towards the door I was nearing. I could feel the sticky sea salt breeze burst in as the door almost flew off its hinges, with an excited max standing in the frame. 

GOOODDDD MORNING K CUP, HOW'S IT HANGING

Max.. Do you even have an inside voice? 

Nope! Didnt develop, might be malformed. SPEAKINGGGG OF MALFORMED

He looked side to side frantically and almost whispered as he narrowed his eyes towards me. 

Diddya see the carcass washed up? Pretty big one. You should come check it out with me. 

Another whale??? That's the 3rd one this week?!

Yepppp i mean you know how it is during storm season. Always washing everything out, in. causes all kinds of weird things to come in. 

Alright let's go. 

I followed him out the door as he skipped along in his barely zipped up scuba suit. It was particularly nasty out the night before. The dark clouds were the first thing I noticed as we headed out. As the wind began to blow, it was clear that the hurricane from the east blowback had not finished yet. 

Max was not kidding when he said there was another whale… although…. 

As we proceeded to get closer to the body, we both noticed something was.. Off. besides the obvious damage on the outside. It was clear that something wasn't…right with it. 

Was it sick?

I don't know. But either way we need to call this in you know. Maybe get it exclaimed by the marine biologist before we toss it back out for fish food. 

Max stepped closer to examine it. 

Hey, be careful we don't know what it has-

Max instantly jumped back, almost falling into the water behind him. I thought he was giving me a hard time for being paranoid so I tried to call him out. 

Why are you getting so worked up over a beached whale? It happens all the time during this part of the year. We know what to do. Let just call it in and-

uhh that's not a whale..

I headed over towards max after he had spoken those words. I felt the seriousness as his gazed retained fixated on the back half of the body. That was when I finally saw it. 

It's… a creature

I couldn't contain the sudden panic in my voice as I saw movement come from the inside of the beast. A head poked out over the side as the limbs of the creature buried inside the opening further. It was scared of us. 

We need to get it out and back in the water. 

Max??

He shot me a serious look as he used his gloves to open the fin and the wound in the carcass to get a better look at it. 

It almost looked like a cross between an octopus and a squid. Like a new form of hybrid between the two with some very big almost animated eyes as it kept hold of our gaze. It looked like a baby. I knew Max noted the same things I had but still he had sighed and began to show a softer face. 

Hey little guy. We aren't going to hurt you, okay? I promise. You can trust me okay... I just want to get you home. 

As its eyes glazed frantically between us both it eventually reached one of its arms out to grab on to max's hand. And slowly made its way into his arms.

That's it, little guy. I'll help you back in okay. How'd you get this far in land anyways? Hitch the wrong ride or something?

Its eyes stared up at me as i watched it fall into max with comfort. 

We won't hurt you; I promise. Well just set you back in, okay?

It seemed to understand our nature and blinked in confirmation. I reached my hand out the little guy and his head caressed into my hand. 

He's.. soft. 

See I told yah it wasn't just a wha-

Waves began to crash violently against the shore as the sky darked once again. Rain poured as lightly followed. It looked as if a hurricane was forming right before us. 

Barely standing from the whipping wind, Max and I covered the creature and went to run towards the shelter so that we could protect ourselves and our new friend. Without hesitation we began to book it towards the lighthouse but before we could get our feet firmly into the sand, we felt it slipping and pulling us in closer to the sea. This caused us to remain planted in the ground towards the ocean. 

We screamed out for help as we felt as if this was the end of us. That was until we saw something from a dome outside of the water. 

It looked as if a large gray matter formed outside of the water and began rising towards the surface. As it quickly rose, a face began to form outside of the water. A creature of unfathomable size rose from the water as its limbs dangled below it. Its large yellow eyes glared at us as its full body was still submerged in the water. It looked similar to the creature we had in our arms but as its size was so expanded, it touched the water and sky. It pulled us in closer as it stared directly at us. 

Max and I both looked down quickly and saw an almost smile across the face of the creature we held. We quickly realized the situation. 

This was its mother. 

We both walked closer to the tide and submerged ourselves in the water as we let the creature go towards its home as the other watched. 

Go on home little fella. 

When we had released the creature, for a moment nothing had moved. Time felt like it had stopped amongst us as we watched with our breaths held, hoping this was the answer to our freedom. 

When we couldn't see the swimming of the smaller one anymore, the eyes of the godlike apparatus stared deeply within us as the winds picked up once more and it submerged itself in the water once more. 

We were safe. 

As we made our way back to shore we both collapsed in exhaustion and disbelief. Unspeaking and unknowing of what just happened. 

After a while Max finally broke the smile with a laugh. 

So…. scuba lessons are officially canceled for today… and probably forever. 

Yeah, I'm going home to turn in. 

We both shook our heads and laughed. 

This would be a day, neither of us could forget. 

TODAY'S WRITING PROMPT:

"Why are you getting so worked up over a beached whale? It happens all the time during this part of the year. We know what to do."

"Uh... it's not a whale."

24.01.15

[soulprompts]

send in " brushing of hands " to see the receiver's reaction to the sender gently and purposefully brushing their hand against the receiver's (not actually holding it, but sending clear signals that they would like to!)

[whumblr]

Find them!

Good whump words in all variants. So have some prompts you can hear :) from calm and collected to most desperate.

- Whumpee hiding in a darkened room. They hear the door open, hear multiple sets of footsteps enter, getting closer, walking past. Then a calm "Find them".

- Whumper bending over, picking up the remnants of cut rope. He straightens back up, looks around. A click of the tongue. This is an inconvenience.

- A blood trail leading to the woods (Whumper: calm, with a smile. Caretaker: a little less calm)

- The captives have escaped, but the building is sealed anyway.

- The (snow) storm is getting more extreme and Whumpee hasn’t come back yet. "We have to find them!"

- Whumper has been signalled nearby and Whumpee (oblivious) is out.

- Caretaker realising in the midst of chaos that Whumpee isn't among them anymore.

- Whumper who has just been shot (bonus if sniper) or punched to the ground screaming in rage, "Find them!"

- Caretaker crying, pleading with the rescue team.

- Whumper slamming the door to their office open. Surprise :) the precious thingamajig / important documents / hostages are missing.

- Whumper finding the cell empty. And the bigger badder Whumper is waiting for them.

[defire]

Smart whumpee stuff (EQ and IQ)

(sadistic whumper ideas included)

They can tell when they're going to break.

Knowing their own pressure points, they make up fake ones that the whumper can then enjoy "breaking", and whumpee plays along

Whumpee pretending to be defiant so that whumper is more satisfied by their submissive act

Finding ways to restore their own spirit like mantras or plans

Watching and testing whumper for weak points that they can exploit as a distraction later

Knowing or quickly learning how to tend their own wounds

When they DO break, they spill everything they've been doing. With maniacal laughter, watching whumper's shock.

An autistic that knows the layout of the compound they're trapped in just from walking through it once.

An ADHDer that's so good at thinking on their feet that they can choose a moment of chaos to disappear.

IQ whumpee knows HOW to escape but also that it's logistically impossible

EQ whumpee doesn't care if it's impossible, they know if they don't try, they'll go insane from helplessness

Or EQ whumpee that knows that the constant failure will eat at them. So they resolve to try something they might succeed at, like convincing whumper to feed them

IQ whumpee blaming their lack of proper planning for a failed escape attempt

EQ whumpee wondering why their usual make-friends thing isn't working on whumper, perhaps blaming themselves

IQ whumpee trying to convince whumper of the impracticality of continued abuse

[teddy06writes]

Whumptober Masterlist/Overview

Hey guys! I'm going to be attempting to participate in Whumptober this year (though admittedly I did kind of mash together a few different prompt lists). I have about 20 days planned out right now, and I really hope to get through them, but no guarantees unfortunately, because I do have other stuff going on in my life. Also most of these are in fact just going to be hurt/comfort because I am a weak man. Also yes I am aware that the variation in these characters is kind of insane, don't come at me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Day One - Survivors Guilt/"It's not your fault." - Robert 'Bob' Floyd - An accident during a training hop leaves your WSO badly injured, and you can't help but blame yourself. Bob makes it his mission to convince you otherwise.

Day Two - Migraines - Darry Curtis - Juggling a migraine and the Curtis gang is not the easiest thing in the world. Luckily, Darry is there to come to your rescue and tell the others off

Day Three - Overstimulation - Diego Hargreeves - (1960s, autistic Reader) - Between the prison break, Diego's strange brother, and home movie footage showing the assassination of the president, your not sure how much more you can take.

Day Four- Field medicine/"Hang on, we're going to have to improvise." - Fili - Even with the battle beginning to turn in your favor, there are still many losses to come, no matter how hard you work to prevent them.

Day Five - "You don't need to earn this." - Tommy Shelby - When your surprises and gentle treatment catch Tommy by surprise, he questions what he'd done to deserve it.

Day Six - Hostile environment/"I don't know how anyone could survive that." - Alfie Solomons - (War Era, Male Reader) - A poorly planned attack leaves you stuck in no mans land. Even if you make it back to the so called "safety" of the English trenches, nothing will ever be the same.

Day Seven - Needles/Stitching - John Shelby - After being sent on another needless errand by his brother, John returns late, exhausted and bloody.

Day Eight - Panic Attack - Aaron Hotchner - When a case that hits too close to home has too many missing pieces, and seemingly no end, you can't help but fall prey to a growing sense of panic.

Day Nine - Falling Asleep in a hospital room - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw - When a training incident gone wrong lands Bradley in the hospital, you take it upon yourself to stay with him.

Day Ten - "Shhh, I've got you now, I'm here." - Alfie Solomons - Sabini's men kidnap you in a desperate attempt to get a leg up on your husband. When Alfie finds out, he's ready to burn the world down to get to you.

Day Eleven - Chronic pain - Boromir - The first day of a cold spell causes your pain to flare up, but you're determined to grit your teeth through the pain. Boromir however, is determined to get you to rest.

Days Twelve - Fourteen Break Days

Day Fifteen - Hiding an Injury - Aragorn - Somewhere in the thicket of Helms Deep, you're injured, but in the chaos that follows, doing anything about it seems to slip your mind.

Day Sixteen - "I did good, right?" - Umbrella Academy Unit - A mission gone wrong forces you to over use your powers, pushing you too far.

Day Seventeen - Bleeding Through Bandages - Kili - After being injured in escaping the Orcs, Oin does his best to heal you, but miles down the road, it doesn't seem to be enough.

Day Eighteen - Nightmare - Alfie Solomons - Night after night, you are plagued with nightmares, and Alfie seems to be the only thing that can cure them.

Day Nineteen - Scars - Diego Hargreeves - While patching Diego up after a fight, you see his scars for the first time.

Day Twenty - "Who did this to you?" - Dallas Winston - You get jumped, Dally plots revenge.

Day Twenty One - "You haven't done anything wrong." - Aaron Hotchner - (Autistic reader) - After a particularly long day, you find yourself overwhelmed and unsure. Luckily Aaron is there to help you calm down, no matter how much you protest.

Day Twenty Two - Chronic Pain (again) - Alife Solomons - Getting Alfie to take a day off when his sciatica is bothering him is a full time job.

Day Twenty Three - Exhaustion - Darry Curtis - Darry has been working himself to the utter bone. You take it upon yourself to make him rest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

These might not get posted consecutively, but I'll do my best.

[peachaberri]

Miles didn’t see the hit coming.

One second, he was mid-air, dodging fire from some tech villain. The next, a blast of raw energy struck him square in the chest, sending him crashing through a billboard and straight into the cold, asphalt streets below.

Pain exploded through his body. His vision blurred, his breathing came in short, ragged gasps, and for a terrifying moment, he couldn’t move.

He heard Miguel shouting something in his earpiece. Pavitr’s voice was there too, he thinks, panicked but distant, like they were far away instead of just overhead.

And then

“Holy shit, Miles-”

Oh, Hobie.

The next thing Miles knew, strong hands were gripping his shoulders, pulling him upright. His head lolled forward against a familiar shoulder, the scent of pepper and burnt leather filling his senses.

Hobie was saying something, but Miles’ heart was beating way too loud to hear anything over it.

Now he sounded irritated. And maybe a little freaked out.

“Oi, stay with me, yeah?” Hobie’s fingers ghosted over Miles’ torso before pressing against his ribs, feeling for injuries. “Shit, mate, you’re bleedin..”

Miles groaned, forcing his eyes open. “M fine,” he mumbled, even though he definitely wasn’t. His entire body felt like it had been slammed by a train, and his suit was torn, the fabric dark and wet where the blast had hit.

Hobie scoffed, “Right, not like you’re bleeding all over me or anything”

The battle was still raging overhead, but Hobie wasn’t moving. He was crouched low, shielding Miles with his body like he’d personally fight off anyone who even thought about coming near them. His hands were shaking. Weird.

[a-candle-maker]

not tagging the person bcs i don't want to call anyone out but like,,,, saw this one girl and her post formatting made it even look like a chatgpt generated thing... checked her other stuff to see and they all had that one formatting... thought i'd tell her and like. babe. you turning off asks just about confirms it for me, i mean imma just guess that you noticed lots of asks telling you the same and decided we're sooooooooo mean!! and ignored it

[greenapplespider]

(Dark/explicit fic prompt ahead, this is M rated- mind the tagged tw’s) otherwise here’s Iorveth from this fic idea I’ve had floating around in my head but sadly not a lot of time to write. So anyone that likes the idea pls take it and run with it <3

This fic idea is intended to be extremely whumpy with eventual enemies to lovers. Read more for world building and an in-depth fic prompt/plot.

Post Witcher 2, after the Nilfgaardians have thoroughly taken over Temeria. Both Squirrels and the Temerian army have been trounced. Iorveth is captured by the Black Ones and catches the eye of a rather vicious officer, who has a sick and perverse view of elves. Roche, ambushes a Nilfgaardian camp, finds Iorveth and takes him prisoner. Some two way Stockholm syndrome and a couple months, leaves the two developing a surprising reciprocal romantic relationship.

—

World building for the ‘elves have both parts’ bit of the AU: Poor Iorveth- an ancient but rather embarrassing fact of elvish biology rears its ugly head and once the process begins there’s nothing a male elf can do to stop it. Within a small contingency (about 15-20%) of male elves exists a fail safe which activates if there are no available, fertile, females for a prolonged period of time.

The body begins a transformation of sorts- hormones start to shift, one’s guts rearranged themselves- shriveled and vestigial organs awaken. The gonads shrink, receding into the body and in their place is left an opening not to dissimilar to a females. Resulting in a cock with a cunt behind it.

The process can take several years, but once the scale tips this change is instantly noticeable by any other elf. A ‘changed one’ has softer skin and shinier hair than the average male, the scent of their pheromones becomes distinctly different from either male or female elves. The rapid change in hormones, in tandem with once dormant hermaphroditic traits attempting to find balance, can cause rather severe mood swings- with some experiencing psychosis.

And most embarrassingly, during peak fertile periods, hormonal shifts can cause a changed one to be rather insatiably desperate, in terms of breeding. Fertility spikes happen over 6-8mo cycles (similar to a human females but over a much longer period). Within the 6-8 months cycle there will be an approximate 2 week window of fertility, marked by a hormonal and mood change.

Changed one’s are viewed negatively within elvish society, historically they are seen as the fruit of suffering, as they only come about as a last resort to help rectify famines, plagues, and any other mass die offs. Since humans have largely taken everything over, charged ones are now more common and are a constant reminder of the downfall of the elves. Most changed one’s either hide themselves away, join human society wherein none will notice, or kill themselves.

Most outsider races have little knowledge of them save for the stereotype that even the ‘boy’ elves have dripping cunts just waiting for a proper man to take (which humans enjoy, as they view elves as inherently feminine and their males as weak). Within this stereotype is also the prevailing thought that there may just a lot of very ugly she-elves and that you can’t always tell when one’s female. Regardless, humans find these things both funny and perverse.

—

The implication of this is that all male elves are potentially hermaphroditic- but only a few have the markers for those traits to awaken given the proper environmental factors.

—

In depth fic prompt: Iorveth has been going through the change for sometime and only by the end of Witcher 2 does his Scoia'tael start to notice. In the midst of being deposed by his second in command, due to potential mental instability, they are ambushed by Nilfgaardian forces, most of his men are killed in the skirmish and Iorveth (evidently the target of the Ambush) is captured.

The Nilfgaardian’s are well aware that Iorveth won’t break under torture and anything less than an autonomous elvish state won’t tempt him into working them. So he becomes a hostage to hopefully use as a bargaining chip at some later date. Having an infamous Scoia'tael commander in your back pocket is, potentially, a useful negotiating piece.

Iorveth is ‘given’ to a mid ranking officer within the army who has a sadistic and perverted view of elves and their ‘roles’ within human society. Once he realizes Iorveth is a changed one, things take a, dark, sexual twist. The constant assault mixed with his hormonal change and imbalance leaves Iorveth teetering on the edge of a right and true breakdown.

He thinks of killing himself, with increasing frequency, as the weeks turn to months. The worst part being, as he reaches the end of his change, Iorveth’s body goes through a heat of sorts- during this brief 2 week period he craves the touch of even his torturer. Anything to make the burning stop. He feels himself going nearly mad from it all.

The Nilfgaardian officer notices and uses this to his advantage to humiliate the elf. Making him do debased things just for a little relief.

—

After this first heat, Iorveth now truly understands why it is changed one’s so often kill themselves. Before he’d looked at them with some mixture of disgust and pity, now he would do anything to never go through another heat.

Days meld together and Iorveth finds himself disassociating for longer and longer periods of time. Until one night human screams snap him from his stupor and the next thing he know’s is looking up the blade of a sword in his face to see the ugly face of a man he should have tried harder to kill. Vernon Roche.

Vernon takes him prisoner and Iorveth doesn’t have it in him to spit fire back at the human, he’s tired. For the first few weeks the humans interrogate him. One night, the guards take the liberty in beating him after a rather pointless interrogation secession by Roche, and he finds himself wishing they would just end him.

They pushed him around, kicked him a few times in the stomach before being caught and reprimand by Roche himself- only he or whom ever he allowed was to interrogate the prisoner. There would be no torture for the sake of it, they weren’t squirrels.

A few days go by and his stomach wouldn’t stop hurting- he didn’t think they’d beat him that badly, just a few kick’s. He should be sore sure, maybe a broken rib at most, but this? He didn’t understand and his mind was too sluggish to think about it that hard. Then he noticed the blood- blood coming from his- oh. Oh, he hadn’t even realized that he’d been- that’s why he’d been so tired.

He thought about telling one of the humans, but what did it matter? He was already miscarrying and it was a half bread anyway. He didn’t care, it didn’t matter.

They found him later- the human woman with the tits. She started yelling up a storm which made his head hurt.

Roche seemed to change after that, regarded him differently- looked at him differently, pitied him. He hated it.

—

After Iorveth miscarries all the catharsis Roche had felt at finally taking the elf prisoner cheapens. He couldn’t really explain why. He’d known certain elves were like this, but Iorveth being one of them shattered his perception of the other man- was man even the proper term now?

Temeria had been defeated, the majority of the Scoia'tael’s forces had either broken down into little more than disjointed bandits groups or disbanded entirely from Iorveth’s absence. Roche found himself in a rather similar position to what Iorveth had been in years past and it left him with a better understanding of the elf- perhaps even sympathy.

Roche started to hate the dull, listless, look in the elf’s eyes. He started "interrogating" him more and more- which turned into both a way to make the elf eat and anything to try to get a rise out of him. He finally got the elf to play gwent with him and Roche found himself enjoying it more than he should have.

Iorveth attempts to kill himself and this affects Roche in a way he wasn’t prepared for. Roche yells at the elf and tells him that he’s not allowed to kill himself, that such a thing is his job and only once they’ve retaken Temeria. Iorveth is incensed and starts yelling at the human back. Which turns into a rather feral love making session.

Iorveth comes back to himself in the midst of it and can’t stop himself from begging the human not to put it there- Iorveth is surprised Roche listens to him and still makes it good for the both of them.

Things change after that. Iorveth still hates humans, hates Temerians- but he now hates the Black Ones more. He starts helping Roche in his resistance efforts and maybe learns to hate humans a little less. Roche goes through a similar development, mirroring Iorveth in terms of his hatred for elves.

And by the time Iorveth’s next heat hits he finds himself not wanting to die anymore.

[a-class-attempter]

Whumpee collapsed in the snow. They couldn’t go any further, they just couldn’t, they were too exhausted, their limbs and face numb from the cold.

Caretaker stopped and shook Whumpee with their foot. “Come on, Whumpee, we have to go. Whumper’s on our tails.”

“Caretaker… Go- go on without me,” Whumpee whimpered, barely audible through their chattering teeth.

Caretaker scoffed. “No. No, never.” They reached down and hoisted Whumpee over their shoulder. “We get out of this together.”

Or else we die together.

[nonadreamsnworse]

“You just think you're so smart, don't you?”

“I am,” they spat, “figure that out on your own?”

“You are far too pretentious for someone that just failed their sorry excuse of an escape attempt. Don't worry though, we’ll fix that right up.”

“Are you gonna get to that before or after you fix up your sorry excuse of a security team? Just saying, depending on which, you need to get your priorities in order.”

“Oh, trust me, Whumpee, they are.”

[luxaofhesperides]

Ghostlights cuddling for comfort, but also they're oblivious idiots who are pining over each other but thinks its unrequited

“Ugh,” Duke says, dropping down onto the bench besides Danny.

Danny nudges him with his shoulder. “Rough night?”

“Slept for like an hour,” Duke mutters, “This sucks. My head’s going to burst like balloon and my eyes are about to fall out.”

“Yikes. You know, you could have just canceled for today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Duke sighs and presses the heel of his palms against his eyes. “Maybe, but I would have minded. We barely see each other anymore, man. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh.” Danny bites his lip, trying and failing to stop from smiling. Something soft in his chest glows at the words, a growing spark of happiness in knowing that for this, at least, the feeling is requited. It’s nice to hear that he was missed, and it would be even nicer if Duke wasn’t in pain, pushing himself just because he didn’t want to cancel. Carefully, Danny reaches for him and pulls his hands away from his face. “Here,” he says, “Let me.”

His hands are always cold. Most of him is cold, really — side effect of having an ice core. Sam told him once that his hands were better than an ice pack, and he’s hoping she’s right or this is going to be weird. 

Danny gently presses his fingers against Duke’s temples, his hands cradling Duke’s face. Duke is tense for a few seconds, then abruptly relaxes, leaning into Danny’s hands. 

“Is this helping?” he asks, voice hushed to keep from aggravating Duke’s migraine.

“Mhm. Yeah, it feels great. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke goes completely limp, leaning against Danny. They sit there for a minute in silence, the rest of the world feeling far away. As nice as it is to just exist together, he knows what Duke needs most right now is quiet and stillness. Gotham is very much not that, and every honking car that passes by makes Duke wince, trying to turn away from the road even more.

“Hey, let’s head back to my place. It’s close by, and a lot quieter than out here.”

“Are you sure? I know we planned to go to the arcade today…”

“The arcade can wait. You’re more important.”

Duke blinks open his eyes and looks at Danny with something soft in his gaze. Being so close together, barely any space between them, with Duke looking at him like that makes Danny’s cheeks flush red, unable to think anything but please kiss me.

Which is never going to happen. Duke is his friend, and just his friend, no matter how much Danny wishes they could be something more. It’s a pipe dream, something so impossible it’s almost laughable. 

Duke likes being friends with normal human Danny. He doesn’t want to imagine how he would react if he found out about Danny being half ghost, assuming this imaginary reveal happens without Danny being hunted down and cut open by GIW agents. 

He’s still in hiding, always waiting for the worst as he stays in the apartment his friends (living and dead) had set up for him. The building is for ghosts so it technically doesn’t exists, which means it’s the safest place for Danny while he’s actively being hunted by the US government. 

He can’t be honest with Duke. Can’t be as close to him as he wants to be. Duke deserves more than to be dragged into Danny’s problems and put in danger.

Even so, Danny can’t help but want him around, pushing his luck each time they hang out.

“Come on,” Danny urges, standing up. He pulls his hands away and Duke’s brow immediately furrows, his pain returning. “It’s only a few streets away.”

Duke sighs, then visibly braces himself before he stands up. Danny tucks himself into Duke’s side, taking as much of his weight as he can as he walks them down the street. It’s times like these that he wishes he could reveal his powers safely and just fly them to his apartment. But even without the GIW gunning for his head, showing off powers in Gotham is a sure fire way to get a target painted on his back.

“Almost there,” he says as they turn a corner. 

His apartment doesn’t have a fixed address. It doesn’t have a fixed location at all, drifting around, but it likes this street the most, so this is where it usually is. Danny takes them halfway down the street, then turns into an alley, following his ghost sense. 

Where there’s usually a dead end is instead a building, looking as if it’s always been tucked away in this alley. Danny keeps a tight grip on Duke as they climb the front steps, silently asking for the building to let him stay while he’s with Danny. The door opens easily, which is as good as an agreement, and they’re inside without anything going wrong. The small entrance lobby is empty, with an area for packages filled with clearly magical artifacts carelessly wrapped in bubble wrap. 

Danny drags them past that quickly, hoping Duke doesn’t notice, and calls the elevator down. It arrives silently, the doors opening to let another tenant out. Carefully, Danny positions himself in front of Duke, making sure he doesn’t see how the tenant, who nods at Danny, has a still bleeding wound in his stomach that has him nearly split in half. 

“Alright,” he says, ushering Duke into the elevator, “Just a little ride up and then you can lay down.” He hits the button for the fourth floor and they ride up in silence, Duke dropping his head down to onto Danny’s shoulder again, wrapping his arms around his waist as he stands behind Danny. He’s glad Duke can’t see his face; there’s no doubt that he’s blushing like crazy and if that doesn’t give away his feelings, he doesn’t know what will.

Thankfully the elevator ride isn’t long. If Danny had to go for more than a minute with Duke breathing softly against his neck, his warm hands on his stomach, Danny would have collapsed into a pile of flustered goo.

He opens the door to his apartment and kicks his shoes off. Duke follows in suit, still plastered onto Danny’s back, refusing to let go. 

“Come on,” Danny says, leading him to the couch, “Sit down and I’ll grad you some water and painkillers.”

Duke nods against his shoulder, then slowly detaches himself from Danny and makes his way to the couch. He drops onto it gracelessly, pressing his face into a cushion. 

Danny winces. He must be feeling really bad. He knows how bad migraines can be with sleep deprivation, having suffered through high school with only a few hours of sleep at night, if he got to sleep at all. Frankly, it’s a testament to Duke’s strength that he lasted the entire walk to Danny’s apartment without complaint. 

He returns to the living room with a full glass of water and a bottle of Advil, setting them on the coffee table to crouch next to the couch and place a cold hand on Duke’s cheek. “Hey,” he says softly when Duke turns to look at him, “Is Advil alright? It’s all I had.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks, Danny.”

Duke sits up and shakes out three pills, then washes them down with water. He drains the rest of the cup quickly, then falls back against the couch with his eyes squeezed shut.

“Is there anything else I can do to make you feel better?”

Duke immediately reaches a hand out for him.

“Um?”

“Sit next to me. I feel better when I’m next to you.”

“Oh! Alright. Bet you’re only saying that because my hands are cold.”

“You caught me,” Duke laughs, pulling Danny onto the couch. He goes easily, tucking his legs beneath himself, and places his hands on Duke’s temples again. “Man, I owe you my life.”

“I don’t think my cold hands are worth quite that much.”

Duke hums, but doesn’t say anything else, so Danny settles in and focuses on keeping his hands a little colder than normal. 

The apartment is quiet. No sound from outside can reach them, one of the few ways the building looks after its tenants. Danny and Duke fall against each other, at ease with each other. There’s no need to fill in the silence, and with Duke’s eyes closed, Danny doesn’t have to carefully shove down his feelings and act normal. He indulges in the warmth of Duke’s body pressed against his, a hand on his knee and an arm around his waist. 

He keeps his hands as steady as possible as he looks over Duke, adoring all the little details he can see; a small scar on his chin, the fullness of his lips, the way his hair falls into his face now that it’s long enough to keep in braids.

“I can practically hear you thinking,” Duke murmurs, “What’s on your mind?”

You’re cute, he thinks, I feel safe with you. I want to kiss you. I wish I could be brave enough to be honest.

I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave. I wish I was brave.

“Nothing,” he says. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. I might fall asleep though.”

“That’s fine. You know I would never say no to a nap.”

“Come here, then,” Duke says, and before Danny can do anything, Duke gets a stronger grip on his waist and pulls Danny down on top of him as he falls back towards the arm rest and gets his legs on the couch.

“Duke!”

Duke laughs underneath him, and Danny can feel it roll through him. Okay! This is definitely something he’s going to think about… forever. Wow, he can feel Duke’s abs tense up as he laughs, and has he always been ripped? Unfair. Also unfairly hot. 

“Is this alright?” Duke asks, voice soft and quiet. There’s a hesitancy around his words that Danny doesn’t like hearing, and he brings his hands down to sweep his thumbs soothingly over Duke’s cheeks.

“Of course it is, man. I’d never refuse cuddles.”

“Okay. I’m gonna pass out now. Wake me in an hour?”

Danny moves his hands back up to his temples and says, “Sure. Get some rest, Duke. You really need it.”

He feels Duke relax beneath him, breaths slowing down as he begins to fall asleep. It’s peaceful and quiet and Duke is warm in a way Danny never can be with his ice core. He doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but curled up on the couch with Duke in the safety of an apartment that only barely exists has him drifting off in no time at all.

. . .

(Duke wakes up before Danny. Their legs are tangled together and Duke has moved during his sleep, turning so Danny is held tightly to his chest, his back to the cushions, while Duke is balancing very carefully at the edge of the couch. 

It’s been hours, and he should be heading home soon, but he stays as he is, enjoying this quiet moment for as long as he can have it. Danny is in his arms, safe and content with him, his head no longer hurts beyond a residual ache he can easily ignore, and he can admire how pretty Danny is without being worried about Danny catching his lingering stares. 

These moments are precious to him, rare as they are, and he wants nothing more than to kiss Danny once he’s awake and let his feelings be known.

But the Signal has lots of dangerous people after him, and Gnomon has started causing problems in Gotham again. So he’ll bite his tongue and keep his less platonic feelings buried under lock and key until it’s safe enough for Danny to be around him more often.

And when that time comes, he can only hope that Danny will feel the same way.

That’s all far away from the stillness of Danny’s apartment. All that matters is that he has Danny in his arms. Everything else can wait. 

For now, this is more than enough.)