hello I'm new to your blog and Ik Zayne but idk Nero and Roman and Eric , what story are they a part of ?
Oh! *pulls out powerpoint presentation* I am glad you asked :)
Meet the Whumpers!
Eric is from my very first story, Custody. He's a swarmy, arrogant, but charismatic guy. Capable business man, CEO, and dabbles a bit in drug dealing, money laundering, occasional torture, you name it. Just a bit, yk, making sure not to draw the attention of pesky detectives. Failed at that. Now has a nice chewtoy. Two, even, sometimes. Not afraid to get his own hands dirty. Encourages it, in fact.
Roman is from Bookish, my lady whump series. He's a scientist, specialised in psychiatry and psychology. He's ever so curious, you know. Wants to know all about the human body, behaviour, stress triggers, pain responses, those kinds of things. Used to run dodgy experiments until *someone* was responsible for burning the thing down. Now only has one person to conduct experiments on, satiate his curiosity and somewhat sense for revenge. Very sad.
And Nero is from Crossed Out, my prison series. Stoic guy, former military, low tolerance for bullshit. Ruthless, cares about justice and has no mercy for criminals nor people who defend them, like this mouthy lawyer. He knows he's intimidating. His height, manner, voice... To counter that he can act very charming in public, adopting the persona of a business man.
All are handsome lads more than capable of pinning someone against a wall :)
Eric just smiled at the provocation and pulled at the long black coat he was wearing. It covered an impeccable three-piece suit, which he revealed by pulling the lapel aside. “I do, yes, unfortunately.” He closed the door behind him. “But I wanted to see how my guests are doing, first.”
Said guests seemed rather exhausted; both didn’t even make to get up. They just sat closely together on the floor, weary expression, only wanting to move when they absolutely had to.
“You’re staring, Nat, do you like it?”
Nat instantly cast their eyes down. “Yes, sir,” they muttered. They honestly didn’t care a thing about the stupid suit, and going by the glint in his eyes and his accusing yet playful tone Eric knew that full well. They just had to know he wouldn’t suddenly snap forward.
Jeff too kept his eyes on the threat, scanning for weapons. But Eric kept his hands in plain sight, nothing hiding behind his back. Until one hand slipped into his coat pocket and he pulled out two sets of handcuffs.
“I’d hate for you to have nothing on your hands while I’m out, though. So I thought of… something of a game for you two while I’m out.”
With a low growl in his throat, Jeff rose and shifted in front of Nat.
“I don’t recommend you switching sides in this one, detective. Not with that bust up shoulder.” He walked past Jeff without a care in the world, knowing the man couldn’t risk a fight in his condition, and he touched over the bandaged shoulder. “Or, well, maybe it doesn’t really matter…”
Jeff had to resist swatting at him and had no choice but to allow him to walk past. A fight, hell, even sudden movements, would only make things worse. He needed to heal up as fast as possible.
“Nat, come over here, please.”
Nat froze and exchanged a quick glance with Jeff, who also seemed to tense up. They forced themself to stand up and walk over to where Eric was waiting near the other side of the large room. They both avoided that spot like the plague; during their first days locked in here, trying to find some way to bust from to room, they’d found two metal loops bolted to the floor, a few feet apart. If that wasn’t unnerving enough, there were vague dark specks around them, staining the carpet.
Unfortunately it was right where Eric wanted them and he got them to kneel easily simply by pointing a finger at the ground, near one of the bolts. Without a word, Nat obliged, kneeling at the man’s feet.
“Detective, over there.” Eric pointed to the other loop across from where Nat sat.
Jeff hesitated, but Eric simply brushed a hand through Nat’s thick hair and lightly pulled their head back. It wasn’t a hard yank, not even painful; he merely exposed their throat with their head tilted back, as if ready for execution. It was more than enough. Jeff relented at the sight, walked over and knelt at the loop.
“Maybe you first…” Eric muttered and disappeared behind Jeff. He hooked the handcuffs to the loop, shifted Jeff forward a little, and cuffed his hands behind his back. “I’m sure you’ll have a bit of a feral reaction to this…”
And sure enough, when his hand slipped into his coat pocket again and he pulled out a length of rope, which he slowly twirled around Nat’s neck, Jeff snapped forward. “No!” The handcuffs yanked him back and he could do nothing but watch as Eric fashioned the rope into a noose.
Nat too shot up high on their knees in alarm, but Eric simply guided them back down with a hand on their shoulder.
“That’s exactly it, Nat,” he purred. “Just the position I want. But not yet… hold on…”
Fighting back the tears prickling behind their eyes, Nat had no choice but to allow Eric to handcuff them. He tied them down, tightened the noose around their neck, and threw the rope over one of the beams overhead, hoisting Nat up into a position high on their knees where they couldn’t sink back down. They tried of course, to lessen the stress on their legs. But as they did, the noose dug into their throat, cutting off their air.
And they were stuck. Air wheezing in their throat. Their lungs already screaming for more air, the muscles in their legs for relief.
Eric took a few steps back to take in the spectacle, standing next to Jeff. He knelt down next to the bucking, snarling figure.
“So if you can break free… and uncuff your dear friend. You’ll both have the afternoon to recover, doesn’t that sound nice?”
“I can't break free out of handcuffs!”
“No?” Eric said in feigned disbelief. “Let me give you a hint then. You ever watched those movies where people dislocate their own thumbs to get out? Easy. In your case you’d have to do two...” He pulled at the chain linked to the bolt, “but I’m sure you’ll manage. If not you can just watch them suffer.”
“That’s impossible!” Jeff’s voice broke. In despair, anger, Eric didn’t really care.
“Really? That’s strange. Hollywood has led me to believe it’s quite easy. As a cop you must know the finer details. You’ll work something out.”
Eric stood straight.
“Well then, I’ll see you in a bit. Both of you.” He turned to Jeff and growled under his breath, “Let them die, detective, and I’ll make you wish it was you.”
A total non-threat, because Jeff would certainly wish that if he let Nat choke out here right in front of him.
“If I find you with both thumbs attached, I’ll assume you aren’t that committed to the safety of your friend.”
That stung. The door slammed shut and Jeff immediately tried to twist his hands free from the metal. To Eric’s credit, he hadn’t actually tightened the cuffs that bad. There was more wiggle room than Jeff was used to. If he could just… fold his thumb and— he flinched as the metal bit into the flesh of his thumb.
“Don’t,” Nat croaked. “Just don’t. I won’t—hnng! I won’t die from this.”
“Save your breath! Don’t talk!”
Don’t, they said… as if the sight right in front of his eyes could let him sit back and simply wait until that bastard returned.
Nat was already struggling. The position was merciless; handcuffs pulling them down into the rope, having to make an effort to nudge themself up to their knees just to get that full breath of air. Jeff’s own legs were already cramping. He couldn’t imagine the strain and the stress Nat’s were under.
What if they… passed out? And they’d just… slump down. Held up only by the rope around their—
Lead filled his stomach. The mere thought of it made him double his efforts.
“Don’t— Please,” Nat wheezed, pausing between each word, using each exhale efficiently. “It’s not… possible.”
The cuffs scraped against the joint just above the wrist, scratching at the skin, painfully squeezing the tendon. In his struggles, the bullet wound throbbed right along, reminding him to exercise caution. While seeing Nat just pushed him to ignore caution and go all out. If he could just… see what he was doing instead of twisting wildly! He knew Nat didn’t just say it was impossible to make him stop, he knew Nat didn’t have the air to explain the semantics… But he also knew he couldn’t just sit here and watch them.
A scream tore from his throat, loud, angry, not even in pain so much as channeling a rage that would hopefully just crack something. All it did was lubricate his skin with blood and that didn’t help much either. He sagged in defeat, head down, panting.
Nat winced, pain shooting through their legs and they braced themself for a fresh spike, more pins and needles added when they’d push themself up again. They had to. They had to keep going. Panic wouldn’t help. Loss of oxygen would only make them weaker, would deprive their muscles even more and make the whole thing even worse. It would fuel the despair for that next breath. So they tried to settle into a rhythm; brace, force up, breathe, back down.
Every breath cost them. They shook like a leaf. They tried to keep breathing like normal, just a little deeper. But after a while, they just gasped in the needed oxygen and didn’t even have the strength anymore to lower themself. The noose chafed their skin every time they fell back down and the sudden yank only fueled their adrenaline and the need to lessen the pressure. Making things only worse. And worse.
Making Jeff’s wrists bloodier and bloodier as time passed.
Jeff leaned forward; trying to alleviate the pressure on his legs and to just keep a constant pull against his thumb joints, fiercely hoping it would just slip free.
“Try twisting your thumb.”
“I’ve tried fucking twisting my thumb!” he snarled back at the voice behind him.
A chuckle this time, a little closer. Eric squatted down behind him, black coat pooling around him, and he brushed a finger just under a drying drop of blood on Jeff’s wrist. “So I see.”
He pulled away and walked over to Nat. Desperate eyes glanced up to him. “So he couldn’t help you, hm? Such a shame…”
“Let them down!” Jeff raged in despair, toning it down a bit when those amused eyes fell on him. “Please… let them down.”
“Not until you manage to get at least one hand free.”
“I can’t,” Jeff whispered. “I trie—no, don’t!” He snapped forward when Eric closed a hand around the rope holding Nat up and pulled ever so lightly.
Nat immediately bucked up, face twisting in pain.
“Would you like me to help you?” Eric said, ignoring Nat’s attempts to get more air, eyes fixed on Jeff.
“Yes! Yes, please, just—”
“Say it.”
“Help me! Break my fucking wrist just let them down, please!” Jeff nearly cried when Nat went red.
A broken gasp tore free when Eric released the rope. “Very well.” Without even a glance back to see how Nat was doing, he settled behind Jeff again.
Two hands clamped just above the handcuffs, both thumbs settling just under Jeff’s.
“One… two…
Jeff actually snarled out a yelp like a wild animal when his thumb was forced from its joint. But the pain wasn’t that bad. His attempts to break free on his own had hurt more, really.
Even with his joint forced in this position, he couldn’t slip out of the cuff as easily as he’d thought. It nudged painfully against the unnatural position of his thumb. And when he did finally pull free, Eric’s hand immediately clasped around his wrist.
Jeff hissed in pain. “Let go!”
“Just putting it back,” Eric said with a cruel smile. His hand tightened around the already swelling wrist until Jeff screamed and only then did he snap the joint back.
Jeff slumped down, limply on the floor, one hand still stuck in the handcuffs keeping him from leaping at Nat.
Eric took his time to fulfill his promise, sauntering back over to Nat. Again he took hold of the rope, but this time he cut it, and slowly, very slowly to let Nat adjust, he lowered them down.
Nat fell forward against him, gasping for breath.
“Shh,” Eric crooned in their hair. He cut the other rope keeping Nat tethered to the ground and let them drape over his shoulder as all strength left them. He shifted under them, carefully letting them down, hands catching them to turn them and gently lay them down on their back, on their still bound hands.
Nat winced and whimpered when their legs stretched under them. Every rushed intake of air punctuated with a small cry as the pain stabbed through their legs.
“I’m not going to let you die,” Eric murmured, hovering over them. “Not for a long time.”
Jeff shot upright at the sound of Nat’s voice breaking through his light, restless sleep. Ready to rip Eric away from them, to pull their arm out of his clutches.
But before he’d even half made it up to one knee, and he wasn’t greeted by a sneering voice or crooned little words to Nat, he realized that Eric had other means to slither in quietly in the dead of night.
Sure enough, they were alone in the darkened room that served as their cell. Just him and Nat. And whoever visited Nat in their sleep. Not like he’d have to guess who.
“No… no please,” Nat whimpered, tossing and turning on the floor, shaking their head. Their hands and arms twitched, as if they wanted to reach up, keep their invisible assailant at bay.
Jeff released an almost relieved puff of breath. He scooted a little closer to the twitching figure and rested the back of his fingers against their cheek.
Nat winced at first, but then leaned into the touch. Their breathing calmed, their body relaxed, and after a while they stilled, undisturbed.
“That’s right,” Jeff mumbled, brushing some black strands of hair from Nat’s face, palm of his hand cupping their cheek.
If only things were this easy in real life… Just a fond little touch, a little reminder that they didn’t have to fight alone, and their tormentors disappeared as if in a puff of smoke. If only…
And with Nat falling back into a deep sleep, only their torso moving up and down in deep breaths, his own body calmed as well. Until the adrenaline retreated and his shoulder reminded him that just earlier that day it had been ripped open.
“Shit…”
He grit his teeth against the pain, letting his head fall back and he hissed up at the ceiling. Jumping up like that hadn’t done him much good; the wound throbbed against his stitches as if the bullet was still inside and wanted nothing more than to burst out as violently as it had entered. With a groan, he settled back down, rough carpet the only thing protecting him from the cold floor. It wasn’t much to sleep on and he already missed the bed in the medic’s room.
But he hadn’t wanted to leave Nat alone. And by the looks of it, it had been a right call.
During the day, Nat wasn't much better. Every time the door opened Nat stopped breathing, completely froze up or slightly scooted back, curling in on themself with a soft whimper.
Jeff was pretty sure Eric was doing it on purpose. Kept changing the date of execution just to see Nat fear the worst every time he entered the room. He didn’t really do anything – on doctor’s orders probably – he uncharacteristically didn’t even say much; he just brought in some food or medicine, but always with a wicked cold smile on his face, eyes crinkling with badly hidden glee roaming over Nat. He’d linger for a bit, and would then leave without a word. Rinse, repeat.
He hadn’t forgotten Eric’s hissed words to him either.
I need him there to watch.
Just those words made him want to shudder. Even when, at first, he hadn’t known what was in store for them. He knew all too well it wasn’t good.
“Nat… Nat!” Jeff had desperately called earlier when they were alone again in the medic’s room. Nat was off somewhere very far away, staring straight ahead when the medic checked up on Jeff and they didn’t even notice that the doctor had left. Jeff pulled at Nat’s wrist to get their attention. “What is the punishment for lying?!”
Nat flinched, eyes slowly finding Jeff’s but they immediately looked away again. Their lips trembled. “It… he…” Unable to find the words, they stood and turned away from Jeff. And they lifted their shirt.
Jeff gaped. He’d seen the scars on Nat’s back before. He knew what had caused those long red stripes. But it still punched the air out of him. “No…”
Nat settled back down next to him, but kept their eyes down, fixed on the fidgeting hands in their lap.
“Okay…” Jeff started, “It’s okay, we can… we’ll think of something.”
“No. We won’t,” Nat said, voice strong and Jeff looked up, surprised, breaking away from his thoughts. “The only thing you’ll think of is something that will let you take it,” Nat continued. “Some kind of bargain. Or pissing him off. I won’t let you.”
“Nat, I—”
“Promise me.” But Nat’s voice broke and the next words were merely more than a whisper. “Promise me that…” they searched for some words of tact, “that you won’t let him do it to you. This is my fault. I should bear it. Not you.”
“It’s not your fault! He’s been waiting fo—” Jeff rushed out in one breath, but Nat remained unfazed and just looked at him, waiting for his answer.
Jeff’s turn to fumble; his eyes darted around the room, anywhere to avoid Nat’s determined gaze, anywhere to see if an alternative would lay around discarded on some desk. He stuttered out half syllables as his brain raced to come up with another solution. But he came up with nothing. He closed his eyes briefly in defeat and let out a breath.
“I promise…”
-
The day of the promise announced itself before Eric even said a word; his cheerful demeanor as he burst into the room made it all too clear.
“A very good morning to you both,” he beamed, eyes instantly finding Nat. “And especially to you, Nat.”
If Nat could get any more tense, their clamped up jaw would probably break some teeth. But they knew the gig. So without a word and without any prompting they got up and moved towards him.
“Very good,” Eric crooned. His hand moved away from behind his back. Handcuffs looped around his two smallest fingers as he kept a firm grasp on a long, folded leather string. He caressed the leather loop over Nat’s cheek – handcuffs jingling under their ear – and brushed the whip down to their chin to make them look up. “Hold out your hands, please.”
“Wait…” Jeff couldn’t hold it in. He took a step forward, but with caution instead of his usual collision course to try and fight the man off. “Please… don’t do this.”
The meek tone may have raised an eyebrow, but besides that Eric remained unsurprised. He’d probably been waiting for something like this and, of course, he added somewhat predictably, “How about I do it to you instead, with double the lashes.”
Pent up anger swirled up and Jeff was about to snarl an ‘okay!’, but then he caught Nat’s desperate glance and thought of the last time he’d ignored their wishes. Their wish this time however was mortifying; they caught his eyes, reminding him of his promise, and slowly shook their head.
And Jeff just shattered.
“What’s your answer, detective?”
“I…”
“Look at me.”
Jeff tore his gaze from Nat, hoping that the snarl on his face would cover for the emotions plain to read in his eyes.
“You accept?” Eric continued.
“No,” Jeff whispered.
“No?” Eric repeated in mock surprise. “And here I thought you wanted to protect your friend. Someone is going to take this. Who is it going to be, detective?”
Torn, Jeff shot an almost pleading glance to Nat, who merely responded with a glare of full determination. “…don’t do it to me.”
“More specific.”
“Do it to Nat.”
“What an awful thing to ask for,” Eric sneered. “But very well, if that’s what you want…”
“What I want is for you to fucking leave them alone! Please, I’m begging okay, it’s what you want, right?! Me begging in return for some fucking mercy!”
“I’ve never heard such aggressive begging…” Eric sighed, but relented. “Beg me to let you watch, then.”
“Wha—?!”
“I mean, someone’s going to have to keep a right count making sure I don’t go over twenty…” Eric drawled. He leaned over to Jeff, relishing the disgusted jerk as the man wanted to recoil but stayed firm instead, and he rested the whip under Jeff’s chin. “Beg well enough and I might even lower it to fifteen.”
Okay, so he wasn’t allowed to take the pain, but he could at least hurt his pride to strike a bargain.
“Please,” Jeff said again and this time accompanied his words with action as he sank to his knees. He just about caught the flicker in Eric’s eyes before he cast his gaze down and stared at Eric’s shoes instead. He wasn’t sure what would please Eric more – looking down or up – was actually disgusted to even think about what would fucking please Eric more… Maybe both? “Please, sir,” he pointedly glanced up but tried to keep the murder in his eyes at bay, “let me watch.”
Even with the man trying to hide it, Eric was visibly delighted. But of course, he always had a way to turn it up a notch. “Let you watch what?”
Jeff crunched his teeth together, tightened his fingers into fists. “Let me watch you… use the whip on Nat.” And he was sure something inside just cracked.
“Aw, I can’t let such behavior go unrewarded… Very well, fifteen.”
He pulled Nat in by the wrists and swirled the handcuffs around on his index finger. “Now Nat, with just fifteen, maybe we won’t need these, hm? You can do this without collapsing into a heap, I’m sure.”
Nat’s lips trembled, fear sparking at the hinted outcome of all this, memories of the last time lashing though their brain. “I—I’m not—” They glanced at the whip.
Eric shushed them and held the whip out again. “It’s okay, look, this is a different whip than last time. I know this is just a repeat lesson, you’ve already learned, this is just a reminder of everything, right? So a lighter whip should do, shh, relax, this shouldn’t leave your back a red mess.”
What else could they do but simply nod and Eric pointed to the floor. “Get on your knees then and take off your shirt.”
Eric retreated a few steps and Nat pulled their shirt off. They took a deep breath and stood over the still kneeling Jeff. They exchanged a terse nod and Nat left their shirt in his lap. Then they followed suit, retreating a few steps with their eyes still on Jeff, and turned around to sink to their knees.
Their exposed back told the full story of the previous lashings; Eric couldn’t help a smile as he let his gaze roam over the scars. “No new ones to add this time, I think,” he mused and he twirled the thin leather around a finger before he let the tip drop to the floor, “Like I said, can’t render you out this early. Now, what’s this for, Nat?”
“For lying to you, sir,” Nat droned emotionlessly.
The first lash hit without warning. And sure, maybe it was a lighter whip but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. The sudden pain forced them forward on their knees with a scream and they had to catch themself, hands flat against the carpet. They were sure they felt their skin split; maybe not as bone deep as last time, probably just a shallow scratch, but they still felt drops of blood cooling against their skin. The long cut spread out the bruising force over the length of their back, pain searing all the way down.
They heard Eric hum behind them. Did he notice the blood? Did he go too hard? Please… Nat prayed silently. Please… hold back. Just a little. A little less strength so at least they’d only have to cope with the bruises and not their skin exploding open every hit.
“Sit up straight, Nat,” his cold words followed instead. “And you, detective. You might want to count along. Out loud. Make sure we don’t go over fifteen.”
He didn’t hold back.
The pain of the second hit caught them less by surprise. It crossed right over the first, squeezing out even more pain.
They fell into a rhythm, a flow of sounds; the lash of the whip, immediately followed by a scream, closing with Jeff’s tight, hesitant count. Repeat.
By ten they had to force themself to remain upright. Their entire body trembled, muscles screaming to relax as they presented the wider target of their back. But by twelve, Eric didn’t seem to mind aiming the last three over their hunched back as they screamed directly into the rough carpet, all bowed over, resting on their elbows. Tears dripped down their nose, falling in-between their clenched fists.
“Fifteen,” Jeff’s desperate voice rang out. “That’s fifteen, stop!”
Nat drooped down, all strength leaving their muscles. They hoped for hurried footsteps making their way over, desperate to help, to comfort, but they mewled when they instead heard the determined but slow heavy footfall nearing.
Fingers tangled roughly through their hair and snagged them up. Nat couldn’t help a soft cry.
“Next time I catch you in a lie, I will flay the skin off your back, do you understand me?” Eric hissed in their face.
“Y-yes… sir,” they managed in a whisper before Eric shoved them down again.
“Tend to them,” he snarled to Jeff, and pressed a first-aid kit into his hands before he left them alone.
Trembling fingers touched over Nat’s shoulders. Hissed curses followed by soft words of reassurance. The pain wasn’t, unfortunately, enough to make them pass out and Nat whimpered and hissed as they tried to turn their body.
Jeff just shushed them and pressed them down. “Shh, just lie down, it’s okay.”
And Nat allowed themself to relax at the words: “I got you.”
“I hate you,” Jeff seethed, “I hate the lot of you.” He stumbled along with Kyle, who not only kept him upright but practically dragged him along the hallway.
He held him tight and even though – mercifully – it was his good arm, with his hands still tied behind his back every step and movement jostled and pulled at the bullet wound in his other shoulder.
Pain seared through his shoulder, spreading and tingling down his arm along muscles and veins, and outside his veins with the blood tickling down, seeping in his shirt and sticking to his skin. His fingers were numb, cold, the blooddrops dripping over them hot in contrast. He caught the drop in a clenched fist, then shakily stretched his fingers out again.
Kyle, in his usual silent manner, guided him to a room and held the door open.
Shuffling in rather hesitantly with his guard still up, Jeff looked around. He tensed up when a large metal table in the middle of the room demanded his attention, but released his suspicion in a sigh when he saw the tools and realized – or more desperately hoped – this was a safe room; the doctor’s room.
In the corner, tucked away at a long work desk along the wall that was filled with papers, a man sat hunched over his work; forehead resting in his hand as he was writing something. He glanced up as he heard them enter.
His brow furrowed deeper in annoyance, disturbed in his work, but when he realized who and what had entered, he jumped up and shot to action.
“Over there.” He pointed Kyle to the operating table. “Uncuff him, for fuck’s sake.”
As soon as he felt the cold pressure of the cuffs fall away, Jeff tried to push Kyle away from him, meaning to fight his way out. Rush back to Nat.
But in his weakened state, all Kyle had to do was close in on him and Jeff buckled as soon as the back of his thighs touched the table.
Two pair of hands roamed over his good shoulder and his chest, pressuring him to lie down. He no longer had any strength to resist, even against the doctor’s gentle yet firm touches. Still, he snarled his protest as soon as he felt his back press against the table.
But it wasn’t as firm as he’d thought. “No…” he brought out in barely a breath. His voice was as weak as he felt. “No, don’t… don’t touch me, don—” He hissed as he felt Kyle put pressure on his numb arm and his voice strengthened in alarm. “Don’t touch me! Leave me alone!”
He swatted his good arm at them, but Kyle easily caught it.
Before he could even attempt anything further, a hand clamped over his forehead, snared a grip in his hair and forced him down until the back of his head hit the table.
The doctor stood over him, keeping him down with a tight grip on his hair. “Don’t you snap at me, kid. I’m trying to help you here.”
Jeff winced. The sudden hit didn’t do much besides completely surprise him. Throbbing light pain nagged in the back of his head, but compared to the pain in his arm, it was nothing more than a pinch in warning. Which was as the doctor intended. And too tired to put up a fight again, Jeff let himself be handled further onto the table. He watched the man fuss around him, preparing various instruments, and looked into his face.
“I know you,” Jeff mumbled and he must’ve imagined it, but for a second he thought the man froze. “You were in his office. His goddamn o—” Exhaustion overtook him and he groaned, turning his head away not seeing how the man untensed.
“Yes, I remember you,” he merely said, gruff but not unkind.
“Who—” Jeff started but the man turned away from him, busying himself and pointing out instructions to Kyle.
“Don’t touch it,” he said as he noticed Jeff’s hand hover anxiously over the bullet wound. “Keep your arm still, don’t move. Blood type?”
“A… positive…” Jeff breathed out after a bewildered pause, and he saw the man gesture to Kyle.
When Eric had said to bring him to the doctor, he hadn’t really been sure what to expect. Not in this place. Not from people working with Eric. And it certainly wasn’t actual medical assistance.
“Shaun.” The man looked up when Kyle demanded his attention and he nodded in approval at whatever he was holding.
Jeff let it all wash over him in a haze. He realized that this was probably the first time he’d heard Kyle speak. Usually he was a silent presence, more felt than heard. And the doctor’s name was Shaun… yes, he vaguely recalled Eric calling him that, too.
“I… thought… you were the boss… around here.”
Shaun let out a humorless laugh. “I should wish.” He shook his head. “Most people say funny things after their anesthetic.”
“I don’t… want… anes—”
“Yes,” Shaun said over him. “You do.”
“I have to get back…” He was so tired, he could barely finished a sentence without gasping for breath in-between words. “Back to Nat… as soon as—”
“You think you’re any good to them in this state? Do you want Eric to take full advantage of you? Want to bleed out and leave your partner to fend for themself?” he demanded, and Jeff whimpered at the thought, shaking his head. “Then let me do my job.”
The thought of leaving Nat alone with that bastard while he was out wasn’t a welcome one. He wanted to be with Nat; protect them, and if he couldn’t to just be there for them, knowing that his presence – and Nat’s for him – calmed them both. Even though he fully knew that Eric would use them against each other.
And true, in this state, it would only make him an easier target.
But maybe that was what he wanted. Because if he could draw Eric away from Nat, all the better.
Still, he let the doctor prep him so he could remove that blasted bullet.
“Why are you… helping me?”
“Gunshot wounds are always dangerous. The shoulder especially. Which Eric should know, considering…” Shaun grunted something under his breath.
Considering he’d been on the receiving end when Nat had shot the man, Jeff ventured he knew exactly how dangerous it was.
“But… why?”
Shaun didn’t answer. He swiped a piece of cotton over the crook of Jeff’s elbow, then carefully inserted an IV.
“You’re a… doctor…” Jeff tried again. “How can…”
“Be my guest and talk ethics with me,” Shaun said without looking up from the IV, attaching a syringe and he slowly pushed the plunger. “It’s better than counting back from ten.”
And sure enough, before he could even string another two words together, he was out like a light.
-
Next thing he knew he woke, back resting against a soft mattress, body covered in warm sheets. He stirred cautiously, not knowing what would await him when he opened his eyes. But when he tried to move his arm, there wasn’t much pain, and when he peeked an eye open, a familiar figure sat next to him. Merely a black blur in his state, but still easy to recognize; long black hair, a little more tangled than usual, spilled over their black clad shoulders.
“Hey,” Nat whispered, their face lighting up in relief.
A squeeze in his hand followed.
“Hey…” Jeff croaked in return, testing his voice. He blinked hard, squeezing his eyes a tad longer than necessary. A groggy feeling lingered, unswayed by his attempts to get a bearing on the world, And so he allowed it, relaxing back against the pillow.
His fingers carefully crossed over his chest until they touched over fresh bandages. The blatant irony of it all didn’t escape him, even with his level of brain fog. It was all patched up nice and well, but he made no illusions that it would get the rest it needed to heal.
He exhaled softly and opened his eyes again, focusing on Nat. The black blur took shape, filling in the details of his friend. He peeked up at their face, worried about what he’d see there. But there was not a trace of anger to be found. Just concern and a hint of guilt. And…
He winced when he noticed the darkened color and dried blood in the corner of their lips.
“It’s okay…” Nat said quickly, but they turned their head away. “It’s just… this. He just hit me once.”
That’s once too many.
"I should have said sorry..." he mumbled.
"You think?" No judging, just a small tilt of their lips.
But he was judging himself. All that energy. Wasted on recovering. Lying still in bed, trying not to move too much, while he could’ve spent it on protecting Nat, fighting their way out, looking for a way out, provoking Eric, or best yet, just wind it all up and punch him full in the face. It was a grave injury that would hold him back and prevented him from doing just all that…
He realized Nat didn’t just do as Eric said out of fear; there was a practicality to it that he, in his anger, had completely blindsided.
“I’m not as strong as you are,” he muttered, turning his head away.
“…what? I’m not—this is not—”
“Yes, it is. You are able to swallow your rage, your humiliation, your anger. Not just for yourself but to protect me as well. I can’t do that.”
“You did when he threatened me.”
“Yeah, but I can’t seem to do it for myself. He just gets under my skin. And I’m not going to bloody say sorry when I don’t mean it.”
“What, you think I meant it?”
“Nat…”
Nat sprang up at the voice. Eric stood in the doorway, a hand over his heart in feigned hurt, but a malicious yet gleeful look on his face.
“Did you just admit, did you confess that everything you just told me… was a lie?”
Nat stuttered out a breath and backed away, tripping over Jeff’s IV pole that rattled and nearly fell over as they bumped into it. Their hand, still around Jeff’s, clamped into a claw and Jeff winced as his numb fingers were crushed.
“I… no, I…” they stuttered, freezing up like a deer in headlights.
“You know what the punishment for lying is,” Eric tutted and took a step forward.
But before he could even get close to the pair, Shaun followed him into the room and gruffly yanked him back in passing.
“Eric, get the fuck out. This is a room for recovery, not whatever bullshit you have in mind.”
Eric acquiesced, taking a step back, but his eyes were slits and pinned Nat to the spot as he glared over Shaun’s shoulder. “Very well,” he said, just before he left the room, “I’ll wait.”
An Eric encounter with the police- he says he’ll give up his business, his money (not the hidden stuff duh, just enough to seem like the right amount) his client list, etc. The cops can have it all if he gets Nat and then they stay the fuck away.
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🙌🌟🙌
Eric, my beloved bastard, yes he totally would make such an offer in complete confidence. Not because it would work (though on the off chance that it did, nice) but mainly to completely rile up Jeff :3 And to mess with Nat, who would constantly worry if higherups or others would see the benefits to such a deal (client list you say, hmhm).
Once he has Nat, by means of this deal or just by being persuasive in another way (kidnapping) he'll just continue his shady dealings but without his business front *and* keep tormenting Nat.
I would LOVE to see what would’ve happened if Nat had agreed to go back to his team but be a spy for Eric. I can just imagine it… Nat slipping away in the dead of night, going back into Eric’s compound. A bow would be customary, maybe a lick on Eric’s shoes in greeting… it would be awesome.
Hm, nice :)) In a scenario I've written Nat refuses. But who knows... after enough torture... or threats... and no rescue yet :3 maybe they'd finally give in.
Information would have to be reported on their knees, of course. Right in front of Eric's desk. Starting with a bow, a respectful greeting, before Eric would flick a hand, allowing them to continue speaking.
The stress alone would be too much to handle, add in the web of lies, the doubt from Jeff, the where-have-you-beens?, Nat getting shorter and snappier with their friends by the week... Not to mention that Eric would take advantage and would try to hurt Nat every chance he'd get. So, hiding injuries gets added to the pile.
Nat would scoff at first:
"You can't hurt me now."
Eric just smiles, chin resting on folded hands as he takes in the kneeling figure from behind his desk.
"Hm Nat... it's not like you to miscalculate like that."
He slides his chair back and slowly rounds his desk, one hand behind his back, and stops right in front of Nat, who by now doesn't dare breathe.
"Well, stress does that, I guess. Add some false bravado..." He sinks down to one knee, brushes his knuckles over Nat's cheekbone, and continues in a hushed but excited voice. "Your face is off-limits."
Slowly, he brings up the hand from behind his back, revealing a taser. He teases it over Nat's throat, rests it against the underside of their chin and tilts it up until wide, dark eyes fix on his. He flicks the taser on, letting the little bolt of lightning crackle in Nat's face to see them flinch, to see the confliction in those eyes.
"Not everything I do has to leave evidence. And there's plenty of injuries that can be hidden. Some with more effort than others..."
Happy holidays, folks! Here's some angst to make your days merry and bright.
@hold-back-on-the-comfort came with the awesome suggestion: but what if revenge whump. And I think that's beautiful.
Custody masterpost
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Eric wouldn’t describe himself as a vengeful man. Live and let live, that was more his style. That didn't mean he had any qualms about killing, not at all. But driving a point home, after all, worked best with the person still alive. Well, alive up to a certain degree; be it after intense physical therapy to restore basic bodily functions, some scars that’d never fade, and heavy trauma, but alive nonetheless. It wasn’t revenge, just… consequences.
But the chance to get his favorite victim back in his claws had been too good to pass up. And show them the ‘consequences’ of their actions he would.
Initially, his target was Nat and Nat alone. But that pesky partner of theirs never seemed to let them out of his sight after everything that had happened. And so, Eric had to admit, having a bonus wasn’t too bad. Someone to go all out on, a punching bag that would snap back – at times – and someone to use against Nat. Even though he wouldn’t need the leverage, the despair that would follow would be marvelous.
He fondly looked upon his two captives, the difference between them overwhelming.
Jeff lay face-front on the floor, still fighting even though his hands were cuffed behind his back and Kyle pressed him down with a knee between his shoulders.
Nat however didn’t need to be cuffed. Nat was already shackled by their own fear.
They’d known. Just a split second before their vision had gone dark and the hood was forced over their head. They knew it was Eric and they knew they couldn’t do a thing.
Now Jeff, he’d fought. And fought. Until Eric himself had to step in and crushed him into a wall. There was no need to knock him out. All he had to do was keep him in place, whisper something in his ear and cock his head towards the kneeling, blinded Nat, to whom a gun was slowly being leveled to the back of their head. And Jeff too had crumbled to his knees with a whimper.
Easy.
“It’s so good to have you both here again,” Eric clapped his hands and beamed at the two. “After the events of last time, I believe we have some… unfinished business.” He turned to Nat, who just stood nailed to the ground and he said in a hushed voice: “After all, Nat, I don’t think you and I were quite finished yet.”
Nat let out a whimper and seemed to deflate a little. Eric reveled at that, he’d missed this. But the moment was tainted by—
“Don’t you touch them! Don’t you dare!” Jeff raged behind them.
Eric merely turned his head slightly towards him and without his eyes ever leaving Nat’s, he just said: “Gag him.”
While Nat’s horrified expression was a treat in itself, Eric couldn’t resist turning to Jeff to see him struggle against Kyle. He watched, with just a sly and calm smile, as Kyle forcefully spun the man over. Jeff of course refused to open his mouth now, but even teeth clenched as tight as a vice would part to let out a scream of pain. Kyle stuffed a piece of cloth into his mouth and quickly followed up, making use of the daze of pain to force his mouth shut with duct tape.
The pain and rage was reduced to nothing but guttural grunts and a first hint of despair glinted in Jeff’s eyes when his gaze shot back to Nat.
“Now, that’s better,” Eric crooned at the angry but softer grunts. “Now we can talk things out. Because Nat…” his eyes snapped to Nat and they stopped breathing. “You shot me,” he said in a horrible hushed and accusing whisper.
Nat backed up a step, lips trembling with fear and half-prattled pleas that never quite finished as they weren’t sure if they should beg or apologize.
Eric shushed them and stepped closer, standing right in front of them. He brought up a hand, just to see Nat flinch away, but slowly brought it up to his own chest, fingers disappearing under the blue lapel of his suit jacket and rested over his shoulder. “Right here,” he said, demanding eye contact. “I can still feel it.” He pressed lightly against the scar under his shirt. “Do you know how much that hurt, Nat?”
Then his hand reached behind his back, under his jacket. Nat’s eyes widened when they saw the gun pulled from his waistband and nearly buckled when he pressed it right against their shoulder. “Would you care to experience how it feels?”
He pulled the hammer back, soundwaves of the soft menacing click resonating right through Nat.
“No… no please,” they whispered.
“Or…” the gun pulled away and slowly he aimed at Jeff.
“No!” They snapped forward at that, brought to a stop by a hand to their chest.
“Maybe your accomplice should pay for your mistake.”
Nat was going out of their mind with fear, their whole body shaking like crazy. “P-pl-please, Eric, I—”
“Where are your manners, Nat?” Danger seeped into the voice as it dropped an octave.
Nat sobbed and swallowed hard. “Sir, please, I… Please, I’m sorry! I… I didn’t—"
“You didn’t mean to?” he said in that same calm voice but his lips turned up into a wicked grin. He pulled Nat closer with a deceptively gentle hand to the neck and whispered in their face: “I believe I taught you not to lie to me.”
Nat completely froze.
“Do you remember what happened last time? When I had to remind you not to lie to me?”
Their shoulder blades tensed, pressing together against the scars of last time and Nat swore they could feel that same deep pain cutting right through them again, swore they could hear the whip cracking in the back of their mind.
“Yes, sir,” they quickly whispered in an attempt to play by the rules.
“Do you? Need a reminder?”
“No… sir.” A single tear slid to their chin.
For some never-ending agonizing seconds, Eric just stared at them, considering. “No…” he echoed and Nat relaxed for a split-second until the next spoken words: “You’re right. Not yet. Can’t render you out of the game yet. We’ve only just started.” He placed the gun back against their shoulder, pressing hard. “But, you still have to apologize.”
That Nat could do. “Please, I'm sorry, I really am. I just—” they hiccupped, “I meant to say… that I didn’t—” their mind raced for an alternative, “I didn’t think, and I—”
Eric just looked at them expectantly, fond expression on his face as they prattled on and on.
“And—” Nat took a deep breath and their frantic rambling calmed down to something that they hoped would convince him. They looked up, right in those awful cold, grey eyes and said: “I am really sorry. Sir.”
A wrinkle of amusement softened his eyes. “Aw Nat. I believe you. Thank you,” he emphasized with a dramatic hand over his heart.
The gun pulled away and Nat just nodded, relief searing through them.
But the gun didn’t click back to safety yet. “Now what about him.”
Nat’s eyes followed the path of the gun as Eric re-aimed at the figure on the ground. “What?!”
“He owes me an apology as well. For stomping on my wound,” Eric said, matter-of-factly, and walked over to Jeff. He lightly turned him over onto his back, applying a little pressure to crush his bound hands against the hard floor. Then he raised the gun and aimed at Jeff’s shoulder. “So what do you say? When I remove that duct tape, can I expect an apology?”
Jeff glared up at him. He refused to look at Nat, who tried to signal to him to please just to do as he says; he knew he’d break if he looked into their eyes. Instead, he kept his attention on the threat. Then, very slowly, he lightly shook his head.
“Suit yourself.” Eric shrugged and without hesitating, he pulled the trigger.
The bullet ripped right through Jeff’s shoulder. His eyes bulged. His back arched. And his screams were stuck high up in his throat as he writhed on the floor.
Muffled though they were, agony and fear seared through his cries and Nat snapped forward in alarm. But Eric stopped them, merely holding out an arm to block their way, and shut them up with a withering side-glance before they could even finish the word ‘please’. Their knees couldn’t hold them anymore and they crumpled to the floor in despair, tears staining their cheeks as they could only watch how their friend twisted and coiled in pain.
Jeff’s suppressed cries died down to groans and he fought against the duct tape, taking desperate deep but shuddering breaths through his nose.
Eric stepped forward, shoe now resting on Jeff’s heaving chest, inching up and closer to the bullet wound.
“Last chance, now,” he teased.
He got all but a roar in reply. The words remained stuck in his throat, but the ferocity behind the muffled vowels could only mean one thing: it was an unmistakable ‘fuck you!’.
And so Eric replied by stomping hard right onto the bullet wound.
Blood splashed under his shoe and Nat had to look away. The howling sound tore through them, though, shaking them to their core. Eric just watched on in uncaring glee.
“Apologize, detective. Or I will fire another round into your partner and stomp the blood out of them until they drop unconscious.” He ripped off the duct tape and Jeff gasped hard for air when the gag was pulled from his mouth.
“Also,” he followed up in a lighter tone, “Do note that I only have one medic in my employ and he can’t patch you both up at the same time. From what he told me, bullets to the shoulders are tricky.”
That seemed to do the trick; the brutal logic of the threat of one of them bleeding out seemed to bring Jeff back. And he refused to let Nat go through this awful pain, so… he relented. He groaned and stammered, still gasping for air and trying to calm his breathing to get the words out.
Eric slowly pushed his shoe down once more, lightly, just squeezing more blood out of the wound, but knowing it still hurt like a bitch.
It brought out another cry and Jeff practically screamed “I’m sorry! Okay?! God, I—AagHh! I’m sorry!” He gasped in relief when Eric backed away.
“Thank you,” Eric said sweetly. “I have to admit, that was cathartic. Wasn’t it good to get that out?” He backed up and stopped next to Nat, swirling a hand through their thick hair, slithering down and gripping their chin, slick with tears, to force them to look up. He felt them nod against his grip and they both watched as Jeff still writhed in the afterglow.
“Good. Kyle, escort the good man to the doctor, please.” He turned to Nat with a wolfish grin. “Then I’ll keep our friend company.”
-
Continued here
Tagging, it's pretty much a continuation and I might write more so: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @burtlederp @whatwasmyprevioususername @hurtmebeautifully @im-just-here-for-the-whump @firewheeesky @myfriendcallsmeasickwoman19 @hold-back-on-the-comfort @whumpawink @painsandconfusion
may i humbly request more jeffrey fowler whump, if you take requests? totally fine if you don’t want to btw
Free range Jeff whump? An excellent choice, good sir/madam.
Custody masterpost
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“You haven’t eaten. Again.” Eric sighed as he set a fresh tray of breakfast next to yesterday’s untouched dinner.
“I’m not hungry,” came the bitter reply from the man sitting against the wall.
“Given yesterday’s events, I really don’t believe that. You have to eat.”
“I’d rather die than accept something from you,” Jeff said in an eerily calm voice.
"Well, that can easily be arranged,” Eric mused. "But I'd rather not. So…" he turned towards the taciturn figure and pointed at the food. “Eat this, now, or you will feel the consequences.”
“You can’t force a kaiser roll down my throat.”
Eric’s lips twitched at that and Jeff wasn’t sure if it was a response or if he was considering taking up that challenge. “No…” the man merely said after a beat, to Jeff’s surprise. “I’d have to weaken you first.”
And with that, he loaded the cold dinner onto the breakfast tray and took it with him. “You don’t want to eat? Have it your way.”
Said consequences already started to rumble in protest but Jeff ignored it. He just watched and didn’t say a word as Eric left the room. But feel the consequences he did.
Eric continued letting him have his way. The first two days without food were hard but alright. Well, alright given the circumstances. He didn’t sleep well and trying to fill up with water just hurt as it cascaded against his empty stomach. Going further in, the sharp pain stabbing his stomach receded. Maybe because his body just went into savings mode? 'Cause all he wanted to do was to lie down flat on his back and stare at the ceiling.
But he got no such reprieve.
Every day, Eric came to visit and every day he baited him into a fight. When he wouldn’t respond to taunts, he’d just snap forward without warning and launch a brutal attack that pushed Jeff to defend himself.
Even though he knew Eric was playing with him, he couldn’t afford not to play the game. An attempt at fighting was better than just be on the receiving end of a beating. And so, he defended himself. Pushed through the sore muscles, ever increasing bruises, and fatigue.
But after a while, Jeff couldn’t keep up. He’d trip over his own feet, couldn’t deflect the punches and couldn’t push Eric away from him, off of him. The man himself had gotten back to his feet after weeks in prison, using Jeff to slowly regain his strength. And while Jeff would love to believe that was the only thing that turned the tides on him, even he had to admit that he was getting weaker. Hour by hour, day by day.
“You’re faltering, detective,” Eric crooned as he easily pushed Jeff against the wall with just one arm.
“Get—” Jeff gasped as Eric increased the pressure against his chest, “Get away from me!”
“Make me.”
Jeff snarled and struggled in his grasp. Useless. He couldn’t break free, couldn’t muster up the strength to shove the man away. His final attempt in a punch was easily thwarted, with Eric stopping the half-hearted strike in the palm of his hand.
“You don’t exactly pack a punch anymore,” he sneered, not allowing Jeff to pull back his fist and just crushed down hard against his knuckles, making him wince and pull in his grasp. “Come on, where’s that vigor you showed me at first? Hm?” He lightly turned his head, where the now yellowing bruise he got the first time he’d underestimated Jeff still showed.
In a swift movement, he snatched up both Jeff’s wrists in one hand and pushed them up above his head against the wall, keeping him pinned with just the one hand and his body.
And even with all the anger and frustration Eric drew out of him, Jeff simply couldn’t break free of the tight grip crushing his wrists into the wall. He bucked, he snarled, but all he did was wear himself out, to the amusement of the man in front of him.
A last attempt to launch himself off the wall into Eric was stopped by a cruel backhanded strike to the face. He fell back, watched helplessly as Eric drew back his fist, and violently doubled over when that fist drove straight into his empty stomach.
Eric held him up by the wrists for a beat longer, a sly grin on his face as he watched him bite back grunts and yelps and struggle to stay upright. And when he suddenly let go, there was nothing to keep him up and Jeff slowly slid down the wall.
The man let out a dark, soft laugh and just left him there, slumped against the wall, curling in on himself in pain.
And one morning, before Eric could even crack his knuckles, Jeff crumbled. He couldn’t stop it. With a heavy thud, his knee crashed into the floor. He sat hunched over on one knee, catching his breath – over what?! Over nothing! – and he just didn’t have the strength to get up. His head was spinning, his fingertips cold and trembling now clutching at his pantleg.
“Oh, now that’s new.” Eric slowly advanced on him with a shit-eating grin. “And here I thought you wouldn’t kneel for me.”
Jeff refused to look up, refused to respond to the taunt. All he could focus on was the rough carpeted floor below and making sure he wouldn’t keel right over. Shiny brown dress shoes blurred into his vision, Eric looming right over him. And for a second he thought the man was crouching down in front of him but—
“Don’t think that this will excuse you now.” And with a brutal upward punch, winding up all the way from the ground, Eric smashed a fist into Jeff’s face.
Jeff fell back with a cry. But even his scream was weak, barely made up of the air forced out of him.
“I think the message is pretty clear now…” That shiny shoe now crashed down on his ribcage, keeping him flat on his back. “Congrats, you’re a total weakling now.” He chuckled and added in a cruel whisper: “Just like Nat.”
The growling response Jeff mustered up cut off as the pressure on his ribcage increased and Eric literally stepped over him, making his way to the door. After just a few seconds, he returned, again carrying a tray of food. He set it down on the floor, at a distance, making sure Jeff would still have to crawl over to get it.
"When I get back you will have eaten this. If not, I will force feed it to you and I'll make you regret it. Believe me, making you choke on yoghurt is the easiest thing right now in your current state."
"Fuck you," Jeff breathed, the force behind the words sorely lacking. But when the door slammed shut, he rolled over onto his stomach with a grunt and scrambled over to the tray on hands and knees.
It wasn’t much of a feast. A bowl of plain yoghurt, plain toast, and some chicken soup. But the smell of the broth awakened every sense of hunger. And he couldn’t even hate himself for giving in. He had to force himself to eat slowly and not wolf everything down in two bites. His stomach wouldn’t thank him for that.
He nibbled on the toast and closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh through his nose. Even plain toast tasted like heaven now. And if this was going to end up in his stomach anyway, he’d rather get it there without Eric on top of him, squeezing his cheeks with a condescending ‘say ahh’.
Besides, he really needed his strength… Eric deserved another fresh bruise on his face for this.
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How does one tag this?! The old taglist is at least two years old... Meh, I'll just tag the current peeps. If you don't like it, you can call me out. If you missed being tagged, you can call me out too.
