#intimidating caretaker

[redd956]

When caretaker is so intimidating that their gentleness alone comes as a shock

[macknus]

Pathetic and Defeated (IV)

Read part one here // Continued from here

***

Whumpee woke in an unfamiliar room. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realise he wasn’t staring at the ceiling, but a canopy over the bed that was far too luscious to be his. No…

The memories of yesterday came back to him in an instant and he groaned as his nerves woke up, igniting the injuries from yesterday just in case he forgot how beat up he was.

He tried to sit up and gasped silently as white hot pain seared his ribs. He fell back against the bed and winced there too from the impact before he found his voice and he released a guttural, pain filled groan.

“You know,” a charming voice drawled from his left. Whumpee glanced towards the owner to see the Baron sitting in a high-backed armchair, one leg crossed over the other, a newspaper in his lap, reading glasses balanced on his nose. “I had hoped your idiocy was from shock of being attacked last night, but it seems you’re just a glutton for punishment.”

The Baron smiled a warm, good-natured smile as he folded the paper on his lap and placed it on the table beside him. Whumpee raised his brows at the Baron.

“How long have you been there?”

Baron frowned, taking his reading glasses off his face and folding them too, placing them on the paper as well. “Well the paper was delivered, I had a coffee, and came to your room. I got about halfway through the paper before you woke. You slept quite late.”

Whumpee swallowed. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Baron replied, waving the apology away. “It’s good. It’s only natural. Your body needs rest to recover properly. I’ll get Valko.”

Whumpee scoffed. “Don’t you have a bell to summon him?”

“Funny. Do you want to tell him that when he comes i—”

“No!” Whumpee protested, jerking up and groaning as his ribs screamed at him. “Nngh.”

Baron was beside him in a second, a hand on his shoulder to push him down so he lay flat. “Do I have to tie you down?”

“No! No,” Whumpee protested, shaking his head. “Please. I’ll be good.”

Baron’s lips quipped up at the corner, mischief and mirth shined through his eyes as he stared at Whumpee. “I honestly don’t want to leave you for a second. I’m worried you’ll do something stupid and die in my house.”

Whumpee groaned again. “I’ll stay still. Promise. Just… gah, go. It hurts so much.”

Baron studied Whumpee for a few critical moments before he nodded and went towards the door. “I swear, Whumpee, if I see a fingernail moved when I get back,” and with that threat lingering in the air he left the room.

Whumpee melted further into the bed, staring at the fabric of the canopy. It looked like constellations, a midnight blue like the night’s sky and so… fancy looking, like it was made to order, a one of a kind bed cover. Whumpee blinked at it. It was kind of stupid when he thought about it. Why would a bed inside a house, under a roof, need further protection from above?

That train of thought vanished when he heard voices and footsteps walking down the hall, getting closer and closer to Whumpee’s room. He resisted the urge to flee that raced through his body in a flood of panic, Baron’s threat locking his limbs in place.

The two appeared together, Valko walking in first and coming straight to Whumpee’s side, pulling the blankets gently back from his naked torso without so much as a hello.

“I will change your bandages and check the stitches.” Valko said in his gravelly voice and then ripped the bandage from the worst wound.

“Ok—AGH! BY THE GODS— MMPH…” Whumpee cried, tears springing to his eyes as he winced, struggling to stay down and lie still as the sting of the bandage aggravated every other hurt on his body. Baron came to his other side, looking down at him with an apologetic smile.

“Valko’s bedside manner leaves a lot to be desired. Unlike mine. I’m delightful. And funny. I’ll keep you entertained and in high spirits but you will probably bleed out and die, so we leave the medical things to him.”

“As is only right,” Valko mumbled. He wiped the bloody wounds again with a warm cloth as he ran his critical eye over Whumpee’s battered torso. His grey eyes flashed to Whumpee’s. “Luckily for you, you have good healing skin.”

“Cheers,” Whumpee replied dryly.

“But I have yet to tend your wounds on your face,” Valko said. His eyes went to Baron’s across the bed. “I’ll leave that to you while I make breakfast, Master.”

Whumpee’s eyes flashed between the two before landing on Caretaker. “Uh… didn’t you just say that if you do the medical side I’ll bleed out and die?”

Baron waved him away, taking the bowl and cloth from Valko’s hand. “Psssh, nonsense, Whumps. You can’t die from shallow wounds to the face. Thank you, Valko.”

And the lanky butler-doctor-guardian left the room a second later. The bed sunk down beside Whumpee as Baron took a seat beside his waist, balancing the bowl of water on his knee.

“He doesn’t waste time.”

Baron smiled, shaking his head fondly. “He is terribly efficient. It’s a problem of his. I’ve tried to beat it out of him since I was a boy, but he’s incredibly stubborn.”

“Has he always been—”

“Old?” Baron offered. “Mmm. Yes. Another issue I’ve tried to cure him of, but the more I try the older he gets and I’ve given up on that too.”

Whumpee stared at Baron as Baron brought the cloth to his face and wiped the dirt and blood surprisingly gently from it. “You are a strange man, Caretaker.”

“Thank you,” Baron beamed. “I am aware. I think that’s half the battle, or so they say.”

Whumpee hissed and winced as Baron ran the cloth gently over his eyebrow. Baron’s lips turned down into a frown.

“Do you remember who did this to you?” He asked again. Whumpee swallowed, of course he remembered who did this to him. But to tell the Baron…

“No. Like I said, it was a couple thugs,” which wasn’t untrue. It was Whumper’s thugs that attacked him on his way home. “I’m sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Baron smiled ruefully. “Do not worry. I’m sure you were distracted by more pressing matters at the time.”

Whumpee laughed. Then whined as the laugh pulled at his stitches. Baron’s smile turned dazzling. “See? High spirits. And if I continue being so funny, you’ll rip your stitches and bleed out all over the bed.”

“That would be a shame,” Whumpee said in a pained exhale. “It is such a nice bed.”

“It is,” Baron affirmed. “It’s mine.”

Whumpee’s eyes blew wide as he stared at Caretaker. Baron dipped his chin, his eyelids falling a little over his eyes. “Don’t get any ideas of me, Whumpee. I don’t always take men from the street and lay them in my bed.”

“I should feel special then, shall I?”

Baron winked. Whumpee laughed again and bit his lip, silencing a whimper. “You can take that however you like, Whumps, as long as you don’t go blabbering it around town. I’ll get a reputation. A scandalous affair. I’ll find men throwing themselves in puddles on the street as I walk by hoping to be the lucky one.”

Whumpee swallowed another laugh, holding his stomach to stop it from rattling. “Stop,” he whimpered. “Please. I’m begging you.”

“Oh torture has never felt so sweet,” Baron sighed dreamily. He wet the cloth again and ran it down Whumpee’s throat, scrubbing the dirt and sweat from it. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Baron worked.

“There,” Baron said after a long while. “You’re semi-presentable. You won’t be able to bathe with the stitches, but we’ll do what we can to make you more comfortable.”

Whumpee swallowed, dragging his eyes to Baron’s face. “Why are you doing this?”

Baron stared at his chest. “May I?”

Whumpee nodded. Baron wet the cloth and squeezed the excess water from it before he brought it across Whumpee’s collar bones and shoulders.

“You are one of my denizens,” Baron replied softly. “It is my job to keep you safe and ensure that no harm occurs unjustly.” Baron’s eyes went to Whumpee’s as he slid the cloth down over Whumpee’s chest and waist, careful to avoid the wounds that Valko cleaned. “And if an unjust attack occurs, it is my job to ensure the attackers are justly punished.”

How did he know? Whumpee wondered. How did he seem to know that Whumpee was lying? And not only that, but that he was scared of his attackers and further retribution from them should he tell.

Whumpee lowered his eyes as Caretaker finished washing his torso and placed the cloth back in the bowl, and moved the bowl to the bedside locker. “You are a good man, Caretaker.”

“No,” Baron said, drawing Whumpee’s gaze again. His face cracked into a dazzling smile. “I am a great man. The best. You can profess this to the town if you want like a town crier, that reputation I will accept.”

Whumpee rolled his eyes with a smile. “I take it back.”

“You can’t.”

“There were no witnesses.”

“Valko will—”

“Probably think you’re making it up,” Whumpee interjected. His eyes shot to the Baron to see him scowling like a bold toddler. He had to fight the urge to laugh again.

“I have decided that I regret helping you.”

But Whumpee couldn’t stop his laugh that time and the laugh was filled with pained cries and coughs, and gasps of pain but his laugh filled the house. Somewhere in the bowels of the house, Valko was grumbling about his Baron and commiserating his fortune of having to look after him.

*~*~*~*~*

Tag-list: @sunflower1000 @scoundrelwithboba @whump-till-ya-jump @kuetabii @abmwrites @elle297382 @whumplicity @eyehartart @kham2023 (lmk if you wanna be added/removed🫶)

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Prompt with “whumpee that completely disregards their own mental and physical health and whumper who starts off as a caretaker but because of their own emotional trauma they like how vulnerable whumpee can be when they’re exhausted so then whumpee gets trapped in a toxic relationship with whumper and gets emotionally/physically/mentally abused”

tw: mention of abuse, violence, blood (everything in this is fictional and is a writing prompt for writers. I do not condone or romanticize something like this in real life in any way)

when whumper and caretaker are the same character!!!

the depth and complexity of a character who can be both whumper and caretaker will always fascinate me, and I have such respect and admiration for writers who write and explore this type of character.

yes, I personally am more drawn towards character who is both whumper and caretaker. because sometimes it’s the grey area that is the most fun playing in.

sure, whumper who is an outright villain, and caretaker — who is a different character — who is gentle and soft are classic and all, and I get why people like how simple they are. but for me, I’d like my whumper and caretaker to be the same person 😮‍💨😉

caretaker didn’t mean to hurt whumpee, obviously, but the sight of whumpee bleeding and bruising, the sound of whumpee crying and whimpering, and the coppery smell of blood in the room? there always was a predator within caretaker, and right now caretaker feared that it was winning.

also the guilt and the shame caretaker felt after they lost themself and hurt whumpee. the confusion caretaker felt because why, why must they hurt and ruin everything they love? everything they touch.

caretaker / whumper is not a monster, but they too were fighting their own trauma and demons — and sometimes the trauma and the demons won, and the one paying the price was whumpee.

needless to say, whumpee was terrified of caretaker, but at the same time they knew caretaker was the only one protecting them, the only one keeping them safe.

of course, caretaker did not enjoy hurting whumpee. they hated that they couldn’t always overpower the demons within them.

both caretaker and whumpee were struggling.

the angst, the whump, the confusion, the struggle, the betrayal, the blood, the pain and the comfort that comes after? the feels!!!!!!

there’s a reason this right here is one of my all time favorite tropes to write.

[jordanstrophe]

Everyone dodges around whumpee like their lives depend on it. Everything they say is treated like an order and most steer clear when they can. 

It’s not because they're scared of them.

-But because they're scared of caretaker.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

In League — Escape

Masterlist

Summary: August decides to escape run away before he meets the end of Wyatt's generosity. Beta read by @alittlewhump!

CW: Late-19th century, explicit language, failed escape, indentured servitude/classism, power dynamics, carewhumper/sympathetic whumper.

August always fell asleep in the wingback chair. He’d watch the fire die down to a glow of embers, fingers carding the fringe at the edge of the blanket, the sound of Wyatt’s pencil scratching on steadily behind him. Yet every morning he awoke tucked into the bed, Wyatt gone in the early hours of dawn. Perhaps he should have been more unsettled by the fact that Wyatt could move him so gently as not to rouse him but instead, he was only left with a hollow, wanting feeling in his chest. 

Today was no exception but instead of pulling the bedcovers up and trying to fall back asleep, he threw them off. The room was still shadowed though the sky outside was lightening. The rest of the house wouldn’t be up for hours, some would have only just found their beds a short while ago, but Wyatt was usually back before the sun rose properly. August had to be quick. 

He knew exactly what he was reaching for and didn’t need to light the lamp. A pair of trousers which had a hole in the knee, folded at the bottom of the wardrobe. A jacket hanging at the end for so long it had dust on the shoulders. The ends of the sleeves were worn and frayed, much too short on him let alone Wyatt. He hoped they wouldn’t be missed. 

August certainly wouldn’t. He didn’t have a place or a purpose here and there was no safety in that. Only a matter of time before Wyatt didn’t come home one night and the boys needed to blow off a little steam. It could just as easily be Wyatt, for all his experiences had taught him. He couldn’t stand the idea of being passed on either, sold to the highest bidder with the lowest morals, to another Keats. Making his own way seemed equally bleak. People took one look at him and could tell he was from the workhouse. Imagined him the illiterate son of thieves or debtors, good only for indenture, not even to be trusted with his own life. 

His eyes threatened tears as he stood at the window. In the very spot where Wyatt had comforted him that first night. He had relived that moment countless times, recalling the words Wyatt had spoken, the promises he’d made, until they became smooth and rehearsed, befitting of a dream. Not meant for someone like him. Hazier still were the days that had followed, when he’d succumbed to a fever. The only sharp points in his memory those of pain. 

In the week or so since, he’d almost exclusively kept to Wyatt’s room. The one time he’d ventured downstairs had gone poorly, to say the least. He still had a fading black eye and bruises as souvenirs. Wyatt had been patient with him in his fear and distrust but August couldn’t burden him any longer than he already had—or worse, meet the end of his generosity. The other boys certainly wouldn’t mourn his departure. Loyalty was clearly strong among the group and would eventually win out over the fleeting pity behind Wyatt’s kindness. It was only a matter of time. 

For a panicked moment, he thought the window latch wouldn’t open in his shaking fingers. He couldn’t risk going out the front door, not knowing who might have fallen asleep in the sitting room or if the housekeeper, Midge, had already arrived. The metal was cold, hints of rust along the seams and screws, like it had been left open in the rain one too many times. Finally, with a bit of lifting and shaking, it released. He took a breath of relief scented by the freshly fallen snow covering the ground outside. Not the best footing for disappearing but he’d manage. He was easily familiar with not having a choice. 

The air rushed around him for a heartbeat before his feet met the ground. A shorter fall than it had looked and an unpaved landing, thankfully. He stumbled backwards to keep his balance, bare feet stinging in the cold snow. It had seemed too much of a risk to steal a pair of shoes from downstairs, not knowing whose he might be taking. He slipped down the alley, ducking out of view as he passed the first-floor windows before turning onto the street. 

Of course, the neighborhood wasn’t one he recognised. He’d never left Knights’ territory while serving Keats but that meant he had a better chance of not getting caught by his men. He knew just enough of the borders to understand himself to be south and east. If he kept in those directions, he might stay safe. The rest, he would figure out with time.

At this hour, the streets were nearly empty and the few that were out didn’t lend him a second glance. August could have been any other paper boy or lamplighter running by. He hoped his feet would numb soon. He hadn’t even taken stockings, knowing that they’d swiftly tear on the cobblestones without shoes. The cold air burned his lungs but he pushed himself, wanting to get farther away before he slowed. He peered down every alley he passed, looking for one for narrow or covered enough to put an end to his footprints.

A flock of pigeons burst from some scraggly bushes as he ran past, taking his attention with them. The percussive beating of their wings faded as they rose toward the pale morning sky. He didn’t see a man round the corner into his path. He ran straight into him and fell back, ineffectively casting his hands out backwards to catch himself. A pain shot up his left wrist and the heels of his palms stung as they scraped on the cobblestones. 

“Sir, I beg your pardon,” he said, feet slipping as he tried to get them back under himself. “Please, forgive my carelessness.” He risked a glance up, hoping the man would accept his excuses and go on his way. “I—” 

It was Wyatt. Standing over him, a bemused smile on his lips. “You what?” 

He suddenly felt even colder. “Sir-sir, I—” He tried to swallow around the knot building in his throat. He couldn’t imagine what consequences he might face now. Wyatt bent down, reaching for him and he flinched back. “Please,” he whispered. 

“August, lad.” Wyatt let his hand fall, softening his voice. “I still mean to keep that promise. I’ll not hurt you.” 

He nodded, sniffling.  

“Look at the state of you.” Wyatt reached for his shoulder and he made certain not to flinch again. “You’re shivering—though I gather not only from cold—and your poor feet are already bleeding. How far did you think you were going to get like this?” 

In his stolen clothes no less. August dropped his chin. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“You need only have asked.” Wyatt lifted his face, hand warm on his cheek. “I’m not trying to keep you, I’m trying to keep you safe. You’re not a prisoner, August.” 

Unthinking and stupid, that’s what he was. “No, of course not, sir. Please, I—” 

“Enough about that. It’s all right.” Wyatt caught his gaze and held it. His blue eyes were always clear whenever August looked into them, no matter the circumstances. But there was a sharpness to their clarity, ice rather than water. Wyatt wasn’t the sort of man to be clouded by doubt or yielding in his will. August shivered. 

“Come along, let’s get you home and sorted, hm?” Wyatt helped him to his feet. “At the very least a pair of shoes before you go on your way.” 

It seemed ridiculous that he should be offered aid after pulling such a stunt but he didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thank you, sir.” 

“You know you don’t have to do that.” 

“I do, sir,” he said, looking down at his skinned hands to hide his face.

“And yet…” Wyatt sighed longsufferingly but when August looked up he winked. “Now, don’t make the mistake of thinking I’ll let you walk back on those feet.” 

August took a step back but Wyatt kept hold of his elbow. “Sir, really—”

“You’ll have to pick one or the other, August. You can’t call me sir in an unnecessary display of deference and respect while contradicting me in the very same breath.”

He flushed. “Of course not, sir.”

Wyatt smirked, sweeping him off his feet. “I’d have chosen the free lift, too.” 

August tried to mirror the smile but he couldn’t shake the dread of wondering where exactly he would be standing when Wyatt set him down. 

To be continued...

@whumpy-writings , @writer-reader-24 , @deluxewhump , @no-whump-on-main , @maracujatangerine , @whumptakesthecake-deactivated20 , @painsandconfusion , @wolfeyedwitch , @briars7 , @gala1981 , @redwingedwhump , @whumpflash , @peachy-panic , @hold-him-down , @poeticagony , @annablogsposts , @fleur-alise , @melancholy-in-the-morning

[octopus-reactivated]

Tall, intimidating Caretaker who scares everyone off becoming friends with Tiny Whumpee, because from Whumpee's perspective, everyone is tall and intimidating.

[macknus]

Pathetic and Defeated (III)

Read part one here // Continued from here

*~*~*~*~*

Whumpee woke on something stiff and hard beneath him. He groaned as he came to, feeling a stinging pain in his ribs. Cold fingers touched against his skin and he gasped and shot up.

“Woah! Calm down Whumpee,” a bright voice berated. Strong hands shoved Whumpee back down onto the hard— whatever he was on. “Valko’s stitching your wound with a very sharp needle which he can also stab you with so I’d be careful if I were you. He’s a terrible grump.”

“Not to worry Whumpee,” a harsher voice gruffed. “It won’t be you I will stab with a needle.”

“Oh shush, Valko, you would never.”

Whumpee didn’t want to open his eyes. He really didn’t. In fact, he’d much rather just fall unconscious again but he doubted he’d be able to sleep if these two strange Samaritans kept arguing.

“Wait…” Whumpee said, opening his eyes and glancing at the tall man Caretaker called Valko. “Are you like… qualified to stitch people up?”

Caretaker blinked down at him. A slow smirk slid across his face as he leaned over Whumpee. “Do you have any other options nearby that I can half carry you towards, Whumps?”

Whumpee scoffed and immediately regretted it. A sharp pain shot through his body and he gasped, twisting away from the pain to Baron’s yells. Hands pinned Whumpee down again none-too-gently and he let out a grunt through gritted teeth.

“You nearly stabbed yourself!” Baron hissed. “Again. Do I need to pin you down or will you lie still?”

Whumpee let out a pained puff of air through his nose. “I’ll stay still.”

“Are you certain?” Valko grumbled, his voice low. Deep. Rumbly.

Too deep, for the stupid, tall, weirdly strong—

“OW!” Whumpee cried as he felt cold fingers near his wound, but he made sure not to move. “Yes, I’m sure.”

Baron’s gaze flicked to Valko before he smiled down at Whumpee on the— bench? Table?— again and patted his shoulders with both hands. Whumpee grimaced as a Baron hit a dull ache where a bruise was probably forming, but remained still.

“Good boy,” Baron said, half climbing back off the table and standing on the other side of Whumpee as Valko resumed stitching Whumpee’s side. Baron grabbed something off the table and started twirling it between his fingers as he looked down at Whumpee. “Do you remember what happened to you Whumpee?”

Whumpee blinked, shocked at the serious question coming from Caretaker’s lips. “Uh… it’s all a bit fuzzy.”

“Were you robbed? Was it a unprompted attack, or are you into some shady business that can only be conducted in back alleys?”

The accusation in Baron’s voice was clear. Whumpee swallowed and glanced at Valko as he said, “no, nothing like that. I was just walking home when I was attacked by three thugs.”

Baron’s eyes pierced Whumpee, and if not for the fact that Baron currently had his butler/henchmen/overprotective guardian patching him up on a table then Whumpee would’ve thought Baron was trying to cut him with his stare.

Baron’s features remained friendly, charming, a soft lightness to his neutral expression, but there was a shrewdness behind his smile and beneath the surface that made something crawl beneath Whumpee’s skin. He didn’t want to make an enemy of the Baron. He had a feeling it would be the last mistake he ever made.

“You weren’t robbed, but you were attacked by three thugs in the street unprovoked?”

Whumpee blinked. “I mean, I don’t know if I was robbed. You came along shortly after… it’s all blurry.” Whumpee winced, a short gasp flying from his lips. He screwed his eyes shut and tried his best to remain still.

“Perhaps an interrogation would be better after he has rested and eaten, Master?”

Whumpee opened his eyes again once the wave of pain passed, and found Baron staring down at him. His lips pressed thin into a forced smile. He glanced back to Valko and nodded.

“Of course. I’ll have Anna get a room ready.” Baron turned after he spoke and left the room promptly, leaving Whumpee staring after him with a knot tied in his stomach. Caretaker seemed volatile, and Whumpee wondered whether or not Caretaker was his saviour or another bout of trouble that was waiting once he recovered.

Whumpee turned to look at Valko. He tried for a smile that he imagined came out watery and not at all convincing. “I don’t want to be anymore trouble.”

Valko stared at Whumpee, not trying to fix his features into something welcoming or pleasant like the Baron. Whumpee watched as the older man’s arm drew back and forth, expertly stitching him back together while he kept his haunting grey eyes fixed on Whumpee’s face.

“You will not be able to walk anymore than when you arrived here.”

“I’ll be fin— ow!” Whumpee hissed, grabbing his side where Valko just poked him with a bony finger. “What was that for?!”

“Yes. Fine.” Valko replied dryly. “But neither the Baron nor I care to walk you home tonight in the rain. Especially after you were under the Baron’s care, what sort of message would that send?”

“I’m grateful—”

“Good. Then do not spit on the master’s hospitality and make this night any longer than it needs be Whumpee.” Whumpee swallowed and stared at the ceiling again, letting out a defeated sigh. “At least stay until the morning.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

Tag-list: @sunflower1000 @scoundrelwithboba @whump-till-ya-jump @kuetabii @abmwrites @elle297382 (lmk if you wanna be added/removed🫶)

[redd956]

Intimidating/Deadly Caretakers

I personally prefer and love a caretaker dynamic where Caretaker is feared, powerful, or highly skilled in a way. Strong, intimating, potentially deadly caretakers. Buff bois, and gorls, all that such...

-Caretakers who are muscular, known to be strong, and don’t hesitate to manhandle all of their problems

-Caretaker with scars (secretly from biking but they’re not telling anyone that)

-Caretakers who are soldiers, villains, unexpected doctors

-Caretakers who are nonhuman and therefor deadly by human standards

-Stoic, quiet, or downright scary/intimidating caretakers where even Whumpee is at a loss

-Caretakers who are feared by Whumper just as much as Whumpee

-Caretakers who aren’t all sweets, smothering, and excessively motherly

-Caretakers who aren’t two-dimensional; where their only personality traits come from the fact that they are a caregiver and caring for someone

-Caretakers who stumble across their whumpees in suspicious ways

-Caretakers donning heavy gear, equipped with weapons, unafraid of dangerous terrain/situations

-Caretakers who are culturally different them whumpee, because my favorite trope is two characters who are culturally different

-Caretakers who glare at the team, and the team scatters or straightens up

-Caretakers who are larger than the other characters, and aren’t just the same stereotypical leader guy that I see everywhere

-Caretakers that defy all the common stoic caretaker tropes, but are still intimidating