CW: Drinking, beating, memory loss, implied minor whump
"Sorry, what?" Caretaker said.
"You know, when your brain just glitches sometimes and blocks out a couple of days. Or weeks. Or months, you know, it depends. What, do you not do that?" Whumpee asked.
"No, Whumpee, I don't block out months at a time. What happened?"
"Nothing happened! Well, Whumper had begun drinking more... and he started using the belt on me just before the first memory loss... but I was an absolute problem child, I mean, you should have seen me, heh..." Whumpee trailed off, the laugh dying in their throat and replaced by a faraway look in their eyes, not noticing Caretaker's own eyes filling with horror.
"Oh, Whumpee..."
Whumpee snapped out of their daze, smile returning to their face as they looked at Caretaker.
"Hey, it's fine! I don't get beaten anymore, so I call that a win. Now come on, pizza's getting cold."
And with that, Whumpee bounced over to the kitchen, leaving Caretaker alone with their thoughts.
Beating a pretty boy up until he’s all bloody and bruised and then straddling his stomach (right where I’ve been kicking him) and kiss him roughly, tasting his blood as we makeout, every excited movement as he gets worked up leads to painful gasp as he jostles his poor battered body.
Whumper and Villain have been tormenting Whumpee for hours now. They have taken turns beating him, he has been branded with each of their signatures, a searing hot blazing pain to each shoulder. The smell of burning skin still lingers in the room.
But this time is different, when Whumper took his tray yesterday after one of his rare meals, he didn’t notice the butter knife that Whumpee had managed to hide in the blanket on his bed. Today he has managed to keep hit hidden up his sleeve while Whumper and Villain took turns beating him. He is slumped on the cold floor, body aching, bruises on bruises forming.
Villain leans down and drags Whumpee up off the floor by his hair, as he pulls him up his face is inches from Whumpees. There will never be a better moment! Whumpee slips his knife into his hand and launches with what remaining strength he has.
The knife is connects with Villains head, it punches straight into Villains eye, piercing it with a wet pop, blood pouring from the socket and burying it in his brain. It all happens so quick. Whumpee feels a fleeting sensation of triumph.
Villain’s face is frozen with shock as he drops to the floor, dead before his body fully hits the ground.
Whumpee swings round to face Whumper, pulling the knife with him as he goes, but Whumper is faster and a lot closer to him that he thought. He jabs him firmly with a cattle prod he keeps nearby and shocks Whumpee.
Whumpee drops as the electricity pulses painfully through his body, his limbs useless. Agony races through him, the electric tearing through him, a white hot agony.
Whumper kicks the knife away across the floor and advances on Whumpee who is shuffling backward, shrinking against the door behind him, fear now the dominant feature in his eyes.
Whumpee hadn’t thought this through, he’d only thought of killing them both, not the consequences if he only managed to kill one. He hadn’t thought of who has the keys to his cell, how he would escape the room and get out of this prison.
He realises with dawning horror and a sick terror that punches his stomach that he’s just made a massive mistake.
Whumpee trembles with with fear, his whole body shaking. His breathing comes in sharp gasps, his heart rate rapid as he slides toward a panic attack.
Whumper stares down at Whumpee trying to blend in with the door and make himself as small as possible. A hyperventilating mess.
With total menace and glinting eyes Whumper manages to spit out through clenched teeth.
The stuff textbook makers like to leave out of the history books is the pictures of Steve and Bucky in their college days organizing and attending a protest for queer rights.
They leave out their mugshots of them bleeding and bloody, teeth knocked out and all, yet they're still grinning.
They leave out the pictures of them kissing and smiling at each other, of Steve on top of Bucky's shoulders and him screaming his heart out, shouting for their right to love.
They leave out those "hard to swallow" things about Captain America and his "pal" Bucky.
an F1 RPF Landoscar Omegaverse whump collection by papayabrain
For Whumptober 2025
No.15: ALT 10 Ziptie
Summary: Lando and Oscar get kidnapped from a sponsor event.
Rating: M
Word count: 1,729
Warnings: ⚠️ This one is rated M! Implied non-consensual drug use, kidnap, blood, injuries, and restraints (zipties).
Notes: Part 2 of this will be No.16! 🫣
Read on AO3 | or read below 👇🏼
~
“Lando!”
The whisper sounded urgent, but Lando’s head hurt too much to pay attention. If he stayed asleep he could ignore the throbbing pains all over his body, the pressure in his skull, and the way his wrists were stuck together over his belly. The pillow beneath his head was hard for some reason, and he didn’t seem to have a blanket, but sleep sounded much too good for him to care.
“Lando! Please! You’ve gotta wake up!”
Oscar’s panicked voice broke through his sleepy haze, and he flinched awake, hissing in pain, his body far too sluggish to bolt upright and shuffle closer to his voice.
“Osc?” he asked, blinking against the dull bulb on the ceiling directly above him. He tried to move his head towards his boyfriend’s voice, but the room spun, and he screwed up his eyes again as his stomach rolled dangerously. “Fuck, I feel like shit.”
The air smelled musty, the mattress rock hard and cold beneath him. Had he slept on the floor? Was he hungover? Why wasn’t Oscar helping him?
“Can you sit up?” He didn’t like the urgency in the alpha’s voice. Were they late for something?
“Can ya gimme a hand?” he groaned, trying to bring his hands up to help, but they were not cooperating. The effort made his sore body scream, and he whined. “M’not feeling good.”
“I can’t, Lan. I’m kinda tied up here.”
“What the fuck?” Lando spat, fighting his instincts to stay still. He tried to move his arms to help him roll over, but something was digging into his wrists that was stopping him. They were ziptied together.
He twisted himself onto his right side so he could finally get his eyes on Osc, and quickly wanted to throw up, both from the sight and sensations the movement sent through his body.
And the realisation of their situation.
Oscar’s suit jacket was gone, as were his shoes and watch. His white shirt and suit pants crumpled and smeared with dirt and flecks of blood. Not much blood, thank god, meaning no stab or gunshot wounds, but enough to show he’d sustained a hefty beating before they’d been put in there. Lando’s omega whimpered, knowing his alpha was hurt and he couldn’t do anything.
His arms were ziptied to a metal ring on the brick wall above his head, his socked feet ziptied together, and he sat on the hard, stone floor with his back against the wall, knees up close to his chest.
Dark bruises were blooming over the visible skin, his neck, wrists, as well as cuts on his face, scrapes from being roughly handled. Lando’s instincts screamed to comfort. Given the throbbing aches all over his own body, Lando figured he looked much the same. There was no doubt worse hidden beneath their clothes. Lando’s ribs fucking stung for one.
“Not to alarm you, but we got drugged and kidnapped.” Oscar’s voice was shaking.
“That would explain a lot.” His hard pillow and mattress were, in fact, the rough, cold floor. The room was small, its low ceiling, no windows, and exposed bricks made Lando think of creepy basements in American houses in films. There were no stairs, though, just a bolted metal door on the wall to his left.
“I can’t move any closer. Can you sit up?” Osc asked again.
“I’ll try,” he said.
His shoeless feet were also ziptied, but unlike Oscar, Lando wasn’t tied to anything. He was lying on the floor in the middle of the room, like whoever did this could only be bothered to tie one of them to the wall. The same as Osc, his suit jacket, watch, and shoes were missing, leaving him in his shirt, trousers, and socks. His belt was gone too, which meant Oscar’s probably was as well; he just couldn’t see from his current angle.
His entire body protested as he tried to move, the room spinning violently once more. Rolling onto his front, his tied arms stretched out in front of him, he pulled them back towards him, awkwardly shuffling himself towards Oscar, bending his knees and leaning on his right hip, using his legs to propel himself alternating with his arms. His ribs screamed, the zipties dug into his wrists, and his head stung from the quick, sudden movements.
Breath heaving in his chest, he reached his boyfriend, who lowered his legs so he could rest his head in his lap, on his back, looking up at Oscar. Clumsily reaching up his hands, he stroked Osc’s jaw the best he could, his lip split and bloody, bruises up his cheek. Osc kissed his hands before they dropped back to his lap from fatigue. He couldn’t imagine how Osc felt with his arms above his head, however long they’d been there for.
Feeling minutely safer now that they were closer together and touching, Lando shut his eyes and tried his best to think over the events of the evening. Given their suits, they’d been at some kind of important occasion.
“Can you remember anything?” he asked, squinting up at Oscar.
“No, that’s why I think we were drugged. That and how weird I feel in general, other than the bumps and bruises. Can’t say I’ve been drugged before to give an accurate comparison though.”
“Yeah, I do not feel good,” Lando muttered. Everything had stopped spinning at least, now that he was lying still again. He lifted his wrists, so they were in his eye line, before dropping them and looking back up at Osc, with his hands tied to the wall. “Could they just not be arsed with me or what?” His voice was ragged, his mouth and throat dry, and he tried to clear his throat, but coughing made his ribs hurt.
Oscar frowned, his mouth screwing up in disgust. “I was awake. I fought back. They threatened to hurt you.”
“Oh fuck,” Lando swore, attempting to sit up, but he flopped helplessly like a fucking fish instead, his energy sapped, pain shooting through his head and chest.
“Careful,” Osc scolded, but it was soft and tired. “I hate that I can’t touch you right now.”
Lando blinked up at him, hazy mind assessing, omega instincts calling. Determined, he rolled himself back on his front, Oscar shifting his legs, so they wouldn’t collide with his face.
“Lando?”
“Gimme a minute,” he whined, breathing through the nausea once again, ignoring the searing pain in his ribs.
He managed to kneel, using most of his remaining strength, before awkwardly shuffling forward. With their feet ziptied together, it would be nearly impossible to straddle his lap comfortably like he wanted to. Instead, he eased himself down beside Osc, bracing his hands on his boyfriend’s side, apologising as Osc hissed in pain, his shoulders jarred. Carefully, he swung both his legs over Oscar’s, so he was then perpendicular.
“Put your arms over my head the best you can,” Osc urged. “Brace your hands against the wall.” He bowed his head, wrists pulling at the metal ring.
“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Lando whispered.
Oscar shook his head, alpha rumbling gently. “S’fine. I can live with the pain. I just need you as close as possible right now. Use the wall and my shoulders, I’ll buck up, and hopefully you’ll land on my legs.”
“Okay.” Lando clumsily stroked his hair as best he could from his current angle, leaning up to kiss his cheek. He was probably gonna pass out from the effort, but at least he wouldn’t fall to the floor.
“You ready?” Osc asked once they were in position.
Lando had shuffled his bum right up to his thighs, forearms braced on his shoulders, and one palm braced against the wall to help him push, the other one twisted backwards by the zipties. It was gonna hurt them both, but if it meant they’d be closer and able to comfort each other more easily, Lando would take it.
He took a breath. “Yeah.”
“On three. One, two, three!”
Lando swore as he was suddenly bumped into the air, skin scraping against the wall. Oscar was bracing his weight against the metal ring, essentially doing a bad pull-up, and Lando was trying his best to use his shoulders as leverage to lift himself at the same time. They both cried out in pain, but as their limbs settled, Lando’s butt was cushioned on Osc’s thighs, his arms looped around his neck, saving Osc’s head from hitting the wall.
Lando recovered first, immediately unlooping his arms from around Oscar’s head and resting against his chest, face buried against his neck. Oscar’s chest was heaving from the effort, and he was clearly struggling with the strain in his arms and shoulders.
“I’m here, I love you,” Lando chanted, while they both waited for their heart rates to calm down. “Do you want me to take off your scent blocker?”
“Please,” Osc gritted out.
He peeled himself back as far as he could manage without losing his balance, slowly moving his hands to the alpha’s neck, Osc baring it, wincing as it pulled his strained muscles. It took him a lot longer than normal, his energy gone, and given that they apparently hadn’t eaten or drunk in a good while. But he managed to peel off the blocker, and his omega purred instinctively as the smooth, slightly burnt chocolate filled the musty air.
“Yours?” Osc asked. And shit, Lando would have to claw at his own one.
It was awkward, given his ziptied wrists, but he managed to peel it off and throw it on the floor, Osc’s alpha rumbling as Lando’s own scent mixed into the cold room. They were both already breathing easier, despite all the pain and upset.
Lando wiped a stray tear from Oscar’s cheek, a huge sign of how much he was hurting.
“Are you okay?” he whispered. He rested their foreheads together, breathing each other in for several moments.
“I’m just thankful we’re together in here. Honestly not sure how I would’ve handled this if we’d been separated, or if it was just one of us taken.”
Lando kissed him, properly this time, not wanting to think anymore. It was wet and salty, and he felt touch-starved, but it warmed his insides, calming the abject terror that was shooting down his spine.
