#but he’s not fictional oops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

frostfairysteve · 1 year

Text

steve grows up in a cold home, abandoned by parents who if they love him, have never shown it, burdened by the expectations they force upon his shoulders. he grows up isolated, like a cursed prince locked away in an ivory tower, not allowed to interact with anyone his parents have deemed unworthy. he's hidden away like something precious but left to gather dust instead of being brought out for admiration. all he has is books that hurt his head to read, instruments that he has to teach himself how to play but can't repair once they break, paper and ink meant to write down lessons that he instead uses for art just to have something to do.

steve grows up wanting nothing more than to be loved, to be seen, to feel warmth in any capacity. he doesn't turn away anyone that finds themselves at his door, gives them food and a place to rest as he hides in the shadows, too scared of his parents hearing about it to dare approach the strangers that are few and far between.

time moves slowly in the house; he has no true way of telling the passage of time beyond trying to count the days. food gets delivered and cooked for him, laundry gets done, rooms get cleaned, but he never sees any of the servants that his parents must have hired for him. he sleeps better on nights that he knows someone else is in the house.

but steve never intended to keep any of the strangers.

a girl with fiery hair shows up one night, her clothes soaked by the rain that has been falling for hours. he doesn't recognise the style of clothes she wears, but it has been forever since the last stranger.

steve makes sure a fire is lit, that there is leftovers put out, that there's a towel and blankets available, and then he goes to bed, expecting to be alone once more when he awakes. but the girl doesn't leave once the rain lets up, or once morning arrives.

it takes him most of the day to work up the courage to make himself known.

the girl doesn't react with suspicion or fear. she introduces herself as max in the same breath that she calls his clothes outdated. she very well may be right, as steve is as unfamiliar with her way of speech as her clothes. she makes him feel like a ghost in his own home.

max does leave once evening falls, after spending the day trying to bring him up to speed on what's happening outside the walls he's been trapped behind his whole life. steve learns that his parents must be long dead, that he should be long dead as well, learns that his house is the subject of horror stories meant to keep people away, learns that no one has ever seen anyone enter or leave, learns what it's like to not be alone.

max comes back the next day, with bags of things. of her clothes, of new clothes for steve, of things he could never have dreamed of. after that, after realising something - perhaps the house itself - will bring her anything she asks for, max doesn't leave again.

she gets a phone installed, makes calls to her friends, and before steve can process all the changes to his routine, more children start coming over.

and as time passes, more of the children decide to stay.

steve really never meant to keep any of them; tells them that they don't have to stay just because he no longer dares to leave the house that has kept him alive for this long. but the children all have their own reasons, and he won't force them to leave.

they really should have expected someone to come looking one day.

{Part 2}

#steve harrington #my fiction library #new au just dropped #beauty and the reverse kidnappings #me: what if evil steve except he was actually good #so basically beauty and the beast au combined with a house that comes alive because apparently i love that #eddie is the one who comes looking for his lost lost sheeps #it's canon times outside the house. steve has been there for hundreds of years oops #is there a curse? maybe. who knows. could be.#steve is only evil so far as in people think he kidnapped their children

96 notes · View notes

theherosvillain · 3 months

Text

5: Something that you'll never kill

Previous - Masterpost - Next

CWs: captivity, violence

After a night of restless sleep, I didn’t feel much better. My ribs ached, and I felt a sharp pain down the left side whenever I took a deep breath. I couldn’t tell whether the rib was broken or just cracked. My arms and my torso felt bruised, but I didn’t check to see how bad it looked. I didn’t want to know.

The hours of rest only made me more aware that I was running out of time. Gingerly, I sat up on the cot and assessed how I felt. Could I run in this kind of condition? Fight? I swung my legs over the edge and slumped over, then hissed at the stab of pain in my ribs. Fuck. I couldn’t handle another fight. Running would hurt like a bitch, and I’d be slower than usual, but …

My fingers tightened on the thin mattress. It was wishful thinking, but what choice did I have? I’d been missing for more than a day already. Someone must have alerted the police, but maybe they wouldn’t take the disappearance of a troubled kid like me that seriously.

The police, honestly, were the least of my concern, and I could dodge questions from my aunt and my friends, too. I was used to that. My biggest worry was not getting out of here at all.

I picked the lock again. It took longer this time—a pretty good indicator that I needed more rest, but I pushed through until it clicked open, ignoring the lingering aches as I stepped out into the hallway. Then, immediately, I heard footsteps.

I stiffened, but before I could move, Ryker turned the corner, his scowl zeroing in on me. “You just don’t fucking know when to quit, do you?”

Normally, I’d give him a witty retort that would only piss him off more. Now, I barely had time to brace myself before he threw me to the ground, and his boot met my possibly-broken ribs. He didn’t even kick that hard, but I hissed in pain as I wrapped my arms around myself. “Thought you would’ve learned your lesson last time,” he muttered.

“Ryker, that’s enough.” Vale’s voice was disapproving, but only mildly. I stiffened; I hadn’t even sensed him approaching. I really needed more sleep. “I told you not to cause any permanent damage.”

I only uncurled when I heard Ryker step back. “He’ll survive,” he said.

“You’re dismissed. He’s not going anywhere.” Vale’s shiny black shoes entered my vision, stopping far too close. “Are you, Phantom?”

“Fuck off.” The words slipped out, and my breath froze in my chest. I braced myself for more pain. I rarely swore when I was acting as Phantom—it was part of the persona, being polite, but I was in too much pain to maintain that façade. Still, I got the feeling Vale would take the disrespect a lot less kindly than Ryker had.

There was a beat of silence. I heard Ryker walking away. Vale’s shoes stayed planted on the floor. “Do not speak to me like that again,” he said, his voice low and calm. I nodded, not daring to lift my head. “Now get up.”

I painstakingly rose to my feet, suppressing the urge to swear as my injured ribs shifted. It killed me to follow orders, but I couldn’t risk another injury. Vale had barely touched me yet, but I was under no illusion that he wouldn’t. He barely made sure I was standing before he turned his back and started walking, like he was expecting me to follow.

The worst part is, I did.

“I spoke with Amoret,” he said over his shoulder. “It was … enlightening.” He paused for a brief moment before he added, “She mentioned that she’s your mother.”

I flinched. I really wasn’t in the mood to think about that. “Why did her name surprise you?” I blurted out instead. It was a blatant dodge, but as long as we were talking about Amoret …

Again, he paused. I didn’t really think he’d answer until he said, “I knew Vivienne Thorn a long time ago. I hadn’t been aware that she and Amoret were the same person.” Despite how shitty I felt, the edge in his voice made me feel a tiny bit better. I hadn’t fucked up. If Vale was angry at Amoret for lying to him all these years, then I did exactly what I meant to do. “How long have you known she was your mother?”

The question jolted me out of my short-lived satisfaction. “Since the other night,” I muttered, my arms crossed carefully above my injured ribs.

He glanced back at me. “I take it you’re unhappy with this revelation?”

Oh, he had no fucking idea. I managed to keep a straight face. “It’s not the best news I’ve ever gotten, no.”

He scrutinized me for a moment before facing forward again. I wondered why he’d even asked. Why did he care what I thought about it?

By now, I recognized the way to the office, so I wasn’t surprised when we ended up there again. The desk was scattered with papers, and as I approached, a cold feeling washed over me. Sitting on top, front and center, was my school photo from this year: my bangs swept to the side, eyelashes dark with mascara, the collar of my purple top slightly askew. Printed above the photo, in big block letters, was the word MISSING.

All I could do was stare, the blood draining from my face. No. Nononono—

“So.” Vale’s voice cut through the panic buzzing in my veins. “Wren Argent.”

I whirled to face him, gripping the back of the chair as my legs threatened to give out. “Don’t ever say that name again,” I snapped.

“This is you, isn’t it?” He inclined his head toward the newspaper, as if I hadn’t fucking seen it. All I could do was nod stiffly. That was me—my civilian self, in the paper, on Axton Vale’s desk. His hand grazed the edge of the paper, and without thinking, I snatched it away with my powers. It crumpled in my fist, and I tried to take a deep breath, but the pain shot through my ribs. I stopped.

Vale studied me like I was a puzzle, and I wanted to shrink down and disappear, away from his prying eyes, away from the realization that he knew. “There is one thing I’d like to clear up,” he said slowly, eyeing the paper in my hand. “By all accounts, your civilian identity seems to be a … girl. Are you—?”

I cut him off, mortified and furious all at once. I wasn’t out, especially not in my villain life. When I was Wren, my gender was whatever I needed it to be. When I was Phantom, though— “I’m a boy.”

The words so rushed they sounded like a lie, and I was certain he’d call my bluff. To my surprise, though, he nodded slowly, although he still looked bewildered. “But—”

My grip on the chair tightened as my powers welled up inside me, threatening to break loose. I shoved them back down, reminding myself that I couldn’t afford another fight. “Is that really the most important thing here?”

His eyes narrowed. After a brief pause, he said, “No, I suppose not.” My relief only lasted for a second before he reached for a different newspaper. “I’m assuming this is why you became a villain.”

My stomach dropped as my eyes zeroed in on the familiar headline: LOCAL PROFESSOR ARRESTED FOR VILLAINY. It wasn’t the only article written about my mom’s arrest, but this one, in particular, had framed it badly. All the evidence was circumstantial, but the tabloids acted like it was such a concrete thing, like the Hero League actually had proof that my mom committed those crimes—

I cut off the train of thought before it could go any further. Even after all these months, it made my heart pound with rage. I tried to take a deep breath, and my ribs ached in protest. “Yeah,” I said, not quite looking at Vale. “That would be why.”

“What, exactly, were you trying to accomplish here?”

Rage spiked through me, my powers threatening to burst out. I counted to ten in my head before I felt controlled enough to meet his eyes. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

He set the paper down, his full attention on me. “I want to understand your motives. Your mother was arrested for villainy, and you became a villain yourself because …?”

“Because she didn’t do it!” I snapped. “Amoret confessed to framing her—” I cut myself off and looked away, fists clenched. I said I wouldn’t explain myself.

“You don’t have any evidence of that, do you?” I swallowed, still not meeting his eyes. I was working on it. Vale let out a weary sigh. “Phantom, you’re clearly a very bright, driven, and powerful young man. What you lack, though, is perspective. You’re a wolf lowering yourself to the level of sheep.”

I laughed, and it came out sounding hysterical. Between the pain and the panic, my grip on the chair was the only thing keeping me standing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you are wasting your time.” His tone was clipped, matter-of-fact. “You could be doing so much more with yourself.”

The newspaper crinkled in my fist. “Like working for you?” I asked icily. The possibility of it made me feel ill. I only had a vague sense of what Vale did for a living, but I knew it was nothing I wanted to be a part of.

“Working under my guidance would be a much more productive use of your time than the petty villainy you’ve dedicated yourself to.”

I doubted it, but I didn’t doubt that he believed it, and that part scared me the most. I had to get the fuck out of here.

I bolted for the door. Before I could get far, his hand landed on my shoulder, and I froze. “Just where do you think you’re going?” His voice was almost casual, his fingers digging into my skin. “I know where you live, Phantom. I know where your friends live.” My breath froze in my chest. The door was right in front of me, but I didn’t dare move. “Ariel Becker, Danika Cameron … you wouldn’t want anything to happen to them, would you?”

I whipped around, and my fist slammed into his jaw. He grunted, staggered back—then his hand jabbed my side, and my ribs exploded in pain. I gasped and doubled over, and he yanked me up by my hoodie. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. The neutral expression on his face had evaporated, replaced with simmering rage. “If you ever do that again,” he said in a low, calm voice, “I will kill them, very slowly, and I will make you watch. Do you understand?”

My mouth went dry. I swallowed, my eyes darting away. “Yes,” I whispered.

He grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look back at him. “Yes, what?”

It took a moment for my brain to catch up, and another moment to push past the bitter taste in my mouth. “Yes, sir.”

I stumbled when he released me, my back hitting the door. I stayed there, trying to breathe through my aching ribs, and watched him dab the blood off his mouth with a handkerchief. Then he turned back to me. “Go back to your room. Think this through. You’re a smart boy, Phantom. I’m sure you’ll reach the right conclusion.”

Mechanically, I left the office. I could run, I thought. He’s not following me. He won’t expect it. I could run.

Then Vale’s words rang in my head again, cold and clear, and I decided to stop thinking.

I shut myself inside the room and sat down on the cot, reality settling over me like a heavy weight.

Title credits: Thank You For The Venom - My Chemical Romance

Tag list: let me know if you want to be tagged in future updates!

#original writing #original fiction #wip #fiction #oc: the phantom prince #oc: axton vale #(try not to) kill all your friends #oc: james ryker #captivity #violence tw #chapter summary: diversity win! the guy who kidnapped you respects your pronouns!#this really is a moment where i'm like oh oops i haven't mentioned that he's trans yet have i

8 notes · View notes