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oliver-dash · 2 years

Text

Prey || Oliver+Laya

The night that Z had been attacked in the bathroom of that horrible nightclub, the one that Oliver had never wanted to go to in the first place, had changed the trajectory of all their lives forever.

Finding the girl on the bathroom floor, ashen and limp, bleeding and bruised, Oliver had panicked, scooping her into his arms and running for his car. But not even half way to the emergency room, she had popped up in the backseat, scaring the piss out of poor Jaime, and looked just fine. They couldn’t make sense of it, of what the hell had happened, but she was fine. So they took her home.

Over the next week or so, Z began to fall ill. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, didn’t want to leave the house, open her blinds anything.

Oliver had stayed with her, scared for his friend and trying to make sense of everything - he’d been back from Afghanistan for a few months now, could use his prosthetic just fine, was excelling in physical therapy. It made him happy to focus his attention on someone else.

But then he had cut his finger - not a huge cut, just enough to make him hiss sharply, enough that the blood was immediately dripping onto the granite counter top.

The fight that had followed had terrified him more than he cared to admit.

Z had sprinted at him with a speed he’d never seen a human possess, had literally thrown Jocelyn out of her way, and tackled Oliver into the counter hard enough to knock the breath from him.

She’d been snarling like a wild animal, her eyes wide, pupils blow. She was strong, way too damn strong.

Jaime had rushed forth, trying to grab her and pull her off of him, Oliver managing to grab her by her hair and jerk her off, all the while, a chorus of, “What the fuck?!“ leaving his lips, unsure what else to say.

The three managed to pin her down, the dark-skinned girl screeching and fighting like her lift depended on it.

Oliver saw the fangs. He felt cold when he saw them, sick, like time had slowed to a stop. Because this wasn’t real, right?

But then she was desperately licking his blood off the tile floor, begging for more.

Oliver, to the others absolute shock, walked over to where the small prep bowls lied, grabbing the shark knife, and cut his finger once again, letting the blood stream into the bowl.

Jaime and Jocelyn had both been screaming at him, demanding to know what was happening, what he was doing. But Z had stopped, watching him with wide eyes, salivating.

He’d brought her the bowl, wrapping the cut in a dish rag, and watched as she drank from the bowl, licking out every last drop.

“More.” She had pleaded, looking up at him with a desperation he had seen before, though it normally came from a needle.

“I can’t right now.” He had said it so softly, so sadly, his mind spinning, thinking this had to be some fucked up nightmare. “I will again soon. I promise.”

With that in her system, she seemed to collect herself and broke down into sobs, wailing and telling him again and again how sorry she was.

Z had told him the truth then - the men in the bathroom at the club, how they’d grabbed her and she thought they were trying to sexually assault her. But then one had opened his mouth, she’d watched as fangs slid from his gums, and then they were buried deep into her neck.

“I think they thought I was dead.”

Itd been a lot, too much, and Oliver still wasn’t sure he believed all of it to be true. Because… fucking vampires?

But no. It was there. Internet searches turning up about bodies - mostly women - found exsanguinated with no explanation. There were animals. Children.

Oliver had felt a rage inside of him then and had gone back to that nightclub every night for two weeks, weapons stored away, waiting to find the men who had attacked Z.

He’d found them eventually, hearing a woman crying out for help.

The resulting fight had fucked him up a good bit, but it turned out that these men went down like most others - a sharp blade to the carotid and they were down.

It became a mission after that, tracking leads with Jamie, finding these creatures, killing them before they could hurt others. Oliver got damn good at it too, he found the best methods were fire and decapitation. He built his arsenal and found a purpose.

All the while, Jamie was stealing blood from the hospital for Z and, when those supplies ran low, they took turns making small cuts and allowing her to feed from them.

Luckily, vampires were just as dumb and horny as their human counterparts. A catfish account of a pretty brunette with ample cleavage and Jamie managed to find a website for these monsters where they talked about the easiest ways of getting their meals.

Oliver’s efforts really amped up then. But the bodies weren’t being reported - either no one missed them or autopsies proved something wasn’t quite right. Either way, Oliver was in the clear.

Wrapping bandages around the newest cut in his calf, the blonde covered in thin, pale scars, Oliver looked over Jamie’s shoulder as he worked.

“You find another one?”

“Yes.” He said, scribbling down notes. “A woman. She claims she meets willing participants.”

“Fat chance.” Oliver grumbled. “Who agrees to that shit?”

“I mean…” Jaime motioned toward his wrapped leg.

“This is different.” He grumbled, beginning to pack up his items. “Where is she?”

“Oliver. Just…” Jamie sighed, wanting to tell him yet again that he needed to stop, that he was going to get himself killed. He stopped himself then, reading off the location. “Just investigate. Ask questions first, you know?”

“We’ll see.”

@ofsorceryandfire

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jmflowers · 2 years

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expanded prompts on archiveofourown.org: Hygge

prompt #7: a request was made on AO3 for a Maya-POV of chapter 5, which was something I had sort of already written while creating it... here’s my working draft from that

“Oh...kay,” Maya mumbles, looking down at the crying infant now cradled in her arms. Their daughter, just three weeks old, has inherited Bishop-blonde hair and the DeLuca lungs. The DeLuca temper, too.

“Shh,” Maya soothes, beginning to rock as her eyes travel across the main floor. The kitchen is in disarray, plastic cups and bowls abandoned across the counter in typical Andrea fashion - nothing quite making it to the sink he can’t yet reach. There’s a sippy-cup rolled under the kitchen table, milk dribbled out onto the tile beside it.

The living room isn’t much better; toys and books and burp cloths litter every surface, save for the one clear spot on the couch where Carina had been sitting when she walked in. Andrea sits on the floor amidst the chaos, wiping sleepily at his eyes as he hiccups.

“Mommy,” he whines, “Want juice.”

She sighs, the family-set of tears making sense. “Okay, bubba,” she says, moving closer, still rocking the screaming baby, “Let’s get some juice and some dinner, okay?”

He nods, pushing himself up from the floor. “Mama cry,” he tells her as his hand slips into hers.

It makes Maya smile, the innocence of him. “Yeah, little man, she is. But that’s okay, right? Sometimes we cry. Mommy and Mama, too.”

“Andrea cry,” he adds.

“Yes,” she agrees, “Even Andrea cries. And Beatrice.” She settles the baby against her shoulder as Andrea crawls into a chair at the table. She’s hungry, too, she’s sure; wanting for Carina and her breasts. But Carina is, obviously, out of commission and so she reaches into the cupboard for the unopened container of formula instead.

It’s a delicate dance: making a bottle to pop into the warmer while simultaneously digging through the fridge for some leftovers to feed Andrea. All without ever ceasing the movement that is momentarily quieting Beatrice’s wails.

She’s triumphant, somehow - a plate set in front of Andrea as she settles into a chair beside him with Beatrice and a bottle. The baby latches hungrily, finally quiet.

For the first time since she walked through the door, Maya feels herself start to relax. It’s been hard, going back to work knowing that Carina is at home attempting to juggle everything. The new house and the new baby and the new big brother all at once is a huge ask, as far as Maya can see, but Carina had been adamant that everything would be fine.

That they would all be fine.

This, though? This doesn’t look fine.

“What did you do today?” Maya asks as Andrea shovels pasta into his mouth.

He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Pups.”

She squints, trying to make sense of what he’s saying. “Pups?”

He nods.

“Paw Patrol?”

He nods again.

But that doesn’t make sense, either, because Carina doesn’t like to have the TV on during the day with the kids. And Paw Patrol, of all shows, is not one in Andrea’s repertoire thus far. Not educational enough, Carina had said.

“Bea no sleep,” Andrea adds as an after thought.

Ah. “Did you sleep?” Maya presses, the reality of Carina’s day quickly dawning.

Andrea shakes his head.

She glances up at the clock, deciding then and there that the actual timing of bedtime is irrelevant for two children that have done without all of their very necessary naps.

And so that’s what she does, once they’ve both finished eating. She whisks them upstairs for the fastest bedtime routine she’s ever done: baths and diaper changes and pyjamas. Andrea makes it through only a few pages of a story before he’s snoring softly, curled up tight in his bed. She pulls the extra bassinette from the nursery closet and settles Beatrice in that, taking the baby monitor with her when she closes the door.

In a whirlwind, she traipses back downstairs to tidy the kitchen and pick up the toys and only when everything is back to the way it normally is does she stop to breathe again.

Because this isn’t sustainable. This much burden on Carina isn’t fair - not to Carina or their kids or their home life. She sets to work on remedying it before Carina can talk her out of it once more.

#can't believe it's been two months of this endeavour now #I'm still accepting prompts #and still working on prompts that have been sent in #and also still willing to share the bits and bobs I have already written but haven't expanded yet #hit me with your thoughts or wants or dreams #prompts no longer need to be song lyrics either hahaha #minefic #maya x carina fic #carina x maya fic #station 19 fic #tumblr prompt party #yes it’s maya x carina #yes it’ll go in Hygge #happy Pride weekend yall!!!

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Note

For the bad things happen Bingo... burns for villain?

Circle for completed, heart for requested

Thank you so much for the ask!

Quick warning that may need more context than a word or two. In this snippet, Villain saves a child and they are buried. Some may call this "minor whump", but the child is never hurt whatsoever.

I don't know if this exactly fits "burns" but I think it does.

Scathed Skin

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: explosion, burns from explosion, broken bones, starvation, fever, buried alive

*not edited*

Fourteen

Villain ran into the next room, greedily scanning the interior.

Thirteen.

He pushed away from the doorframe and sprinted into the next room, but that was also devoid of the assumed ticking.

Twelve.

Villain checked out the next room. A child, young in age and tiny in stature was cowering in a corner, sobbing.

"Hey, hey, hey," Villain soothed, bounding over to the child and picking her up. "I'll be okay, alright?"

"Where's my mommy?" The child cried. "I want my mommy."

"Yeah I know, I know," the villain whispered, rubbing the child's back and hoping that her mother was one of the people who managed to escape.

Eight.

Villain ran out of the room with the child. He couldn't disable the bomb now.

So he ran towards the exit, knowing he would have to jump and somehow break the child's fall.

Six.

The ticking started to get more consistent and more intense. Villain looked up, the exit was only five feet, four feet, three feet...

One.

Villain knelt to the ground, wrapping the child with his arms and legs- his whole body- as an earsplitting boomed sounded throughout his ears.

Pain ripped at his back and he fell forward, careful not to harm the child. She was hysterically screaming now.

Villain groaned as black spots danced at his vision, but those weren't his top concern. The ticking had returned, symbolizing another bomb threat.

Villain pushed himself to his feet, though stability abandoned him after one crisp second. He stumbled over to a wall and leaned against it, still holding the child and breathing heavily.

Tick. Tick. Tick.

Villain's ears perked and he turned to exit the building, but found that the exit was decimated. He sighed and took off half-sprinting, half-limping, the other way as agony pierced every cell of his being.

He barely made it to the stairs before he collpased sideways, head banging against the floor, making a hollow thud sound. Stars illuminated the black dust in his vision, making him wince and grimace.

The feeling of wet slowly snapped him out of it. His eyesight somewhat cleared as he felt more in-tune with his limbs- or was it just adrenaline?

The child was crying into his shirt, hugging him madly. He grunted, wrapping his arm around her comfortingly, but that only made her wail harder.

"Shh, shh, it's okay. We are going to be alright, okay?" Villain whispered just as another explosion sent a wave of buzzing discomfort through his ears.

The floor beneath him rattled and creaked before it caved in. Villain and the child fell, but Villain was able to twist around and use his mutilated back to break the young girl's fall.

His body connected with the tile floor. He barely registered the whistle of a kettle before dirt and debris crumbled around him, and inevitable unconsciousness took hold.

He awoke sometime later on his side, cheek pressed into the floor. He groaned and winced in pain as the world flared up around him. Blinding lights shot at his eyeballs as rocks and glass bit into his back.

Villain floated around in that whirlpool of pain as his senses struggled to snap back into it. Memories dabbed at the bruises in his head gingerly.

There was an explosion, then pain, then nothing.

But that was only once sentence that was missing a lot of facts.

He started to become aware of another presence looming over him. It started with the faintest of breezes against his forehead, then a noise like a whimper.

The child.

Villain tried to blink away the haze in his vision, but it only made things even foggier and thick.

"Sir?" The child squeaked when she realized that Villain woke up. "Sir, where's my mommy?"

Her words went right over Villain's head; heck, he hardly came to the conclusion that someone was speaking.

His limited span of sight started to double, then triple as consciousness was snatched away again.

When Villain regained consciousness the second time, he found that he was much more aware of his surroundings.

They were trapped in a somewhat capacious room. Villain's leg was trapped under a wooden beam and was so painful that it had to be broken.

The child was drawing figures in the dust and dirt. Apart from a very dirty face, she didn't appear to be harmed.

But nonetheless, Villain asked out of courtesy, "You good, kid?"

The girl blinked a couple times before nodding. Gosh, she hardly looked ten.

Villain looked around. It seemed that they were trapped in some sort of kitchen. It was very tiny and by some miracle, the various blocks of plaster and heavy metal pipes didn't crush them.

But it did crush the only possible food supply, but the girl seemed to have grabbed a cereal box.

"Hey, give me that," Villain said, trying to pull himself close to the girl, but immediately scream in pain as he tugged at his leg. He collapsed fully on the ground, groaning and somewhat dazed.

The girl pushed the box towards him. It fell over and landed on his face. Villain shakily tipped it over and looked inside.

It was half full. Or empty, depending on how you looked at it.

"Is there anymore food in those cabinets?" Villain asked, nodded towards the dark colored cupboards.

The girl shook her head and pulled her legs in. Her dirty face was tearstained with crusty eyelashes. She had been crying while Villain was unconscious.

"Hey, we'll be okay," Villain soothed as he thrusted his hand into the box. "We are going to have to ration. Ten pieces twice a day, not that we can exactly tell the day."

That wouldn't be enough, but it would have to suffice.

"Okay," the girl squeaked, crawling over and picking out ten cheerios. "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten." She smiled and popped a couple into her mouth.

Villain dozed off a little after that, back and leg in scorching pain, not enabling a truly restful sleep. The girl also slept, or Villain thought, her back was turned towards him.

They somewhat bonded too. The girl started to talk about her barbie and My Little Pony roleplays and even asked Villain to join. He played along a little bit, awkwardly voicing Applejack, before exhaustion took its toll and he fell asleep mid-sentence.

He was getting sick and he knew it. The pair ate their alloted cereal in silence, both knowing that they would soon run out.

"I'm hungry," the girl complained one day- the first complaint in who know's how long.

Villain gave her a sympathetic smile and pushed half of his cheerios over. He wasn't that hungry anyways.

His head started to hurt as he felt fever set in. He couldn't sleep anymore other than periodic, short-lived black outs. But he always awoke more dizzy and tired than before.

Soon after, the fever started to worsen. He would thrash in his sleep and wake up more entangled than before. It hurt, everything hurt and there was no relief.

The girl was his only source of light. She would watch him with wide eyes, bright gaze never faltering. He would reach for her in half-consious states, desperate to know if she was okay.

He quit eating entirely, allowing the girl all the food, but still she ate her twenty pieces a day.

Once, Villain woke up so weak and exhausted that we couldn't even turn his head to look around. He groaned, staring at the floor with a dull gaze.

"Sir? Sir are you okay?" The girl asked, voice thick with sobs. "Are-are you dead?"

Villaim forced himself to peel up his eyes to look at her, but could only keep the look for so long before his eyelids drooped again.

The girl crawled over and picked Villain's head up an inch from the ground. Like a ragdoll, he allowed total and utter control of his head and neck.

"We'll be okay," Villain wheezed, closing his eyes as pressure built in between his eyebrows.

The girl dropped his head just as the fever pulled him under again.

The girl crawled back to her spot, laid down, and also took a nap.

Neither knew of the rescue team just feet above them.

#bad things happen bingo #injured villain #self sacrifice #feverish villain #broken bones #explosion #tw burns #writing #villain whumpee #villain caretaker #child whumpee #not really #but just in case

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neonponders · 3 years

Text

Okay I’m in this Flayed!Steve thing now. Here’s part 2 for this post ~

It’s the angsty middle (I don’t know if I’m doing a part 3 so this might just be angst with no conclusion LOL) so I’ll put it under the cut.

• • • • • • •

Billy frowned at Max’s gaggle of weirdos from atop his lifeguard throne. She had a pass to the pool - courtesy of his job - so the extremely obvious sneaking around was even weirder than that herd of freshmen usually behaved.

Whatever. It’s summer. It’s closing time, and Billy’s got plans to be nowhere in Hawkins tonight. He’s got a concert ticket burning a hole in his locker, and he can’t help but touch it fondly after he finishes his shower -

The lights go out.

He wants to slouch and tip his head back like Max does when she’s just over it. But since he’s the boss around here, he puts strength in his legs and barks, “HEY! Lights on and get out!”

When nothing changed, he quickly yanked on his jeans, t-shirt, and shouldered his backpack - ticket safely locked within an interior pocket -

Billy’s mouth opens to bellow, but someone else beats him to it.

“MAX!”

The voice is familiar but he can’t place it. Or rather, it’s out of place, so he doesn’t believe it until he sees Steve Harrington for himself.

“Max! Get out of the freaking sauna! I’m not interested in smelling like old men.”

Billy frowned. There was only one sauna, and women didn’t use it. A mild warning bell moves through Billy’s head at why Max could possibly be in the sauna at all, but instead he chooses to intercept the guy yelling for his stepsister.

“Hey, Harrington.”

It was convenient that Billy stood behind him; he got the full view of that Scoops Ahoy uniform as Steve turned around and -

Got a sandbag in the stomach. The pool staff used those to weigh down signs and traffic cones on busy days in the parking lot, but for the life of him, Billy had no idea where it had just come from. They weren’t stored anywhere near the locker rooms or sauna.

Billy gaped as the guy vocally coughed and flew backward. A good bit of spit got knocked out of him on the way into the sauna, and then the door slammed shut.

Freshmen swarmed around Billy, running at the door to bar it shut. Byers’ brother read the thermometer on the wall. “Almost at two hundred!”

“Max.”

Her red ponytail flew around her head as she looked at him and his confusion. “Billy, I don’t have time to explain.”

“You might!” Lucas intercepted. “We don’t know how long this will take!”

A new voice asked, “How long does it take?”

Billy analyzed this new person’s sailor uniform. “Who are you?”

“Robin. Who the hell are you?”

“I work here!” Billy growled. “What the hell are all of you doing after hours?”

“Steve’s possessed by something,” Robin said.

Billy’s voice went deadpan. “It’s July.”

She grimaced, “So?”

“So take your Halloween bullshit out of here - ”

Slow...quiet laughter turned their heads to the sauna door. Yet...the laughter didn’t match the sobbed, “Bullshit. My life is bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.”

“Two-fifteen,” Byers narrated by the thermometer. As if connected to the temperature, Steve got louder, wailing an atrocious sound that made even Billy wince.

“We’re all getting arrested for this if you don’t let him out - ”

“We can’t let him out!” Wheeler shouted. Jesus, the kid was just as bullheaded as his sister. “The Mind Flayer’s inside of him. Maybe you might be bored enough to let this thing take over our dimension, but we’re not!”

“Mike, he doesn’t know,” Max said as if trying to soothe the situation, but Billy’s eyes were on the sauna window. Steve had stood up. And Max stood too close to the door.

A fist broke the glass and gripped her hair the same time Billy dove for her. Max screamed as they both landed against the sauna door. Everyone was yelling, but through the chaos, a hand entered Billy’s vision and Steve flew away from the door as if pulled by a rope behind him.

Billy dragged Max away, but not without seeing how Steve landed on the floor, broken tiles following him from the wall. A girl stood beside them, but Billy didn’t know her. She had a nosebleed but didn’t seem to care. “Steve. Fight it. Fight.”

No laughter this time, but the sound of Steve crying was...hard to listen to. Billy and Max slowly returned to the others, all of them peering into the sauna at Steve slumped on the floor.

“I can’t. I’ve been trying. I can’t anymore. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He held his bleeding hand, but all of him sounded broken. Billy heard himself ask, “What’s wrong with him?”

“Mind Flayer,” the girl said.

“Yeah, that doesn’t mean anything to me,” Billy remarked.

“It’s a creature from another dimension,” Byers said...a bit too calmly. “It possessed me last year.”

“You seem fine,” Billy retorted, even though Byers was pale, skinny, and for some reason stayed true to that ridiculous bowl cut.

“My mom and brother got it out of me, but it won’t be as easy this time. All of the flayed people have been eating chemicals. Steve’s house is a mess.”

Robin pointed at the window, “Does that look all right to you?”

Billy refocused on Steve...and all the black veins on his arms, his face.

“Two-forty,” Byers said.

The curly-haired kid...Dustin, Billy remembered from some locked cabinet of his brain, said, “The human body can’t survive past one hundred and ten.”

“What if he’s not human anymore?” Lucas said quietly, like a secret.

“Steve’s still in there!” Dustin yelled, even though his tone was soaked with doubt. “Steve, you gotta fight it, man. Come on! I know you don’t have the best track record, but this is a fight you can’t lose!”

“I ALREADY LOST!” he screamed. Max was crying in Billy’s arms. He hadn’t realized they still held onto each other. Steve cried, “I lost. Soon as this thing’s out of me...I’m dead. I’m so thirsty. All he drinks is bleach. I’m not okay. There’s no way I’m okay. I’m sorry. Robin. I’m sorry. I tried. I tried so he didn’t see you. I tried every time...”

Billy didn’t know what the hell was going on, but Steve’s veins were black, all of them bulging beneath his skin as he began to convulse. Will moved, gasping and weirdly riveted to Steve vomiting something that looked too thick to be saliva.

Then he deflated. “That’s not it. That’s not enough. Two-fifty.”

“What’s it look like?” Lucas asked.

“It’s a cloud - a vapor. It’s - ”

“A shadow.”

Like rats scattering, they retreated from the window where Steve stood again. Except the girl remained, gazing steadily back at him as he reached through the window...not to grab her, but to test the distance.

Steve smiled. Billy felt cold. “Limited human parts.”

Her jaw stiffened as her hands formed into fists at her sides. Opening. Closing. Opening. Closing.

Opening, and rising to point her palm at the window. “When the spider leaves, the web dies.”

Billy couldn’t believe that Steve moved because of this girl, but he landed against tiled wall again...and again.

Dustin was shrieking as Lucas and Mike held him back. “You’re killing him! Stop! Please!”

The girl sobbed through the blood dripping past her mouth -

A guttural hack of a sound wrenched out of Steve, and the sauna went dark. Not like the lights going out...but like dust out of a vacuum. Soot from a faulty firework making Billy squint and then dodge out of they way of Lucas wielding a lighter and hairspray.

To Billy’s horror, the soot cloud moved. Dodging and evading the hairspray flames - some of it even catching light and moving like cinders.

Lucas, Mike, and the girl chased it out of the building, but Billy and the others looked at Robin wrenching the sauna open. Steve lay unmoving inside.

“Steve? Steve! Oh...god. We need a hospital.”

They didn’t have a hospital. But they did have a lifeguard.

“Move. Let me see him.”

Billy still had no functional idea of what the hell was going on. All he knew was that he didn’t get paid enough for any of this, and his CPR training told him: when in doubt, keep compressions going until better helps comes.

“Max, call an ambulance. Then stand outside to flag them down. Robin, help me move him out of here. It’s too hot.”

For all of Max’s faults, an unsteady head was not one of them. She took off for a phone and Robin was thankfully nearly as tall as Steve and Billy. They lifted Steve with ease and got him to a locker room bench. Dustin and Byers put cool-soaked towels underneath Steve’s armpits as Billy began chest compressions.

Both boys flinched back at the sound of bones snapping. Dustin exclaimed, “That’s not right! That can’t be right!”

“I have to break the sternum off the ribs to compress his heart. Stay the hell out of my way.”

Maybe it was the sound, or the sound coupled with Steve’s sweat and slimed-drenched face, but Robin finally broke. She ran for a toilet and heaved. Then both boys held onto her, crying as Billy gripped Steve’s hair and jaw to open his windpipe and breathe into him.

It was gross. It was terrifying. And it felt like nothing was happening. Steve was cold and unmoving. He tasted strange. Soft lips made acrid and sharp.

Voices echoed in Billy’s ears but he didn’t stop. He counted to thirty and breathed for Steve twice.

Thirty.

Breathe.

Thirty.

He still counted even after an EMT ripped him off of Steve, and left him standing vacantly in the lot as the firework of a truck sped away.

#tw the sauna scene #tw torture #tw medical #harringrove #flayed!steve #neonponders #i'm sorry haha

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whumpurr · 3 years

Text

Adrien and Sawdust part 7

cw: pet whump, whump recovery, male caretaker, male whumpee, dehumanized whumpee, conditioned whumpee, dissociation, self harm, bodily mutilation, blood, knives

masterlist

Adrien almost fell multiple times as he ran downstairs as quickly as he could. His feet stumbled and he nearly fell down the stairs but only managed to keep himself upright by the handrail and the sheet speed he was going at.

He didn’t see Sawdust at first, but he knew that he was in the kitchen. He heard sobbing and wailing from behind the counter, and he followed that.

“Sawdust! Hey, hey, I’m-” He hooked around the corner of kitchen island and was greeted by the bony form of his pet, bright red blood streaming down one side of his head and soaking into his shirt and hair. One of Sawdust’s hands, now freed from the duct tape, was cupped over his ear, fingers all red with blood. Adrien dropped to his knees next to the pet.

“Hey, it’s okay, shit, I’m gonna call someone.” His hands hovered around Sawdust for a moment before going to fish his phone out of his pocket. He dialed the emergency number for the hospital and crushed the phone to his ear with his shoulder, using his hands to gently urge Sawdust’s hand away from his ear.

“Hello?” He said into the phone as soon as he got someone on the other line.

“Hello, sir, what’s your medical emergency and address?”

“My pet he- fuck- I think he cut his own ear off? I need help.” Adrien said, trying his best to keep his words concise. There was a beat of silence from the other end before the person returned.

“Sir, are you speaking about your… pet?”

“Y-yeah? One of the person ones? Should I uh- should I have called a vet?”

“No sir, I’m afraid both hospitals and veterinary clinics do not service those kinds of pets. Have a good day.”

“Hey, hang on-!”

The line went dead.

Sawdust was still howling on the floor, and the blood was beginning to drip onto the floor.

“Sir, Master, your pet is sorry!” Sawdust sobbed. “Sor-sorry for the- the mess on the floor, sorry, Master!” His voice was high and reedy and rough from the screaming, Adrien could barely understand his words through his tears and wobbly lips.

“It’s okay, let me see, let me see.” He reached up and snatched a roll of paper towels from the counter, gently adjusting Sawdust’s head so he could look at the wound. He couldn’t even really see that much through all the blood, it made him a little sick to look at. He tore off some of the paper towel and pressed it to the wound, using his other hand and more of the paper to wipe away the blood from around it as best he could, but more blood just kept gushing out.

“Your pet, I-” Sawdust hiccupped, “I’m your property Ma-Master! I shouldn’t h-have damag- ngh- damaged your property!” He screamed. He was shaking so much, shivering all over. His whole body was taut and tense, not pulling away but certainly not leaning into any contact with Adrien.

“Shh, it’s alright, try to breathe, okay? You’re gonna be fine.” Adrien tried to soothe Sawdust, even though his own voice trembled. The pet was crying so hard that he almost couldn’t manage a breath.

The blood cleaned up quickly, Adrien at least getting it to the point where he could see the wound. It was a jagged, uneven, diagonal cut across the shell of Sawdust’s ear. Adrien didn’t know where the piece that he cut off went, but he didn’t really have time to care about that.

“I have a first aid kit somewhere, will you be okay if I go get it?” Adrien said, tentatively pulling his hands back, only for Sawdust’s bony, bloody fingers to wrap around his wrist. The grip wasn’t tight at all, and Sawdust didn’t pause his wailing to look at Adrien, but Adrien was compelled to stay. He remained on his knees and continued to hold the paper towel over Sawdust’s ear.

“Okay, we can uh- just do real first aid stuff later.” He nodded, trying to seem resolute. “You’re gonna be okay, just-”

“Ma- Master,” Sawdust squeaked out. He reached one of his shaky hands out, and picked up the bloody knife, leaving a smear of bright red on the white kitchen floor. Resting the knife on Adrien’s lap, he continued to cry. “Please p-punish your pet, your pet is so- so- sorry-”

“I’m not gonna do that,” Adrien snatched the knife and put it behind him, further away from his pet. “I’m not gonna do that, I won’t hurt you. You didn’t- look, I just won’t punish you.”

That sentence forced a scream out of Sawdust that was so hoarse and so pained, so entirely filled with despair. It looked and sounded like that declaration hurt more than the actual injury did. All the strength was sapped from his body, he was sat on his folded legs and leaned down until his forehead was against the cold tiles and just wailed, hands pulled close to his chest. Adrien chase his head down with his hand, keeping the paper towel to Sawdust’s ear in the hopes that it will stop bleeding.

He watched the feeble, bony figure on his kitchen floor. Adrien was at a loss for what to do.

Sawdust was at a loss for what to do. He didn’t understand. His master took away his ears, he forced him to eat, he ran right to his pet after it damaged his property, and he wouldn’t punish it.

What was Sawdust even good for?

He wanted nothing more than for Master to just punish him already, absolve him of the guilt of all these bad things he’s done. The guilt of the mistakes, of forcing Master to care for him and feed him and house him. It wasn’t fair.

Sawdust didn’t deserve any of these kindnesses. They made his head and heart hurt, they made him want to cry and beg. He had hoped that this would either satisfy master so he could get his ears back, or that it would anger Master enough to finally hurt him. He couldn’t stand living in this state of limbo forever, Master not praising him but not truly punishing him either.

He’s never had to think so much before. He wasn’t supposed to think like this. In his old life he had to do was follow the directions from his master, and let his stupid head grow even dumber from disuse. But now he was constantly guessing what he was supposed to do, why Master had him in the first place. Why was master devoting so much to a stupid pet who didn’t have a purpose? One who didn’t deserve it?

Did Sawdust… not deserve a purpose?

His head hurt.

Sawdust screamed and screamed towards the floor. Adrien didn’t know if it was right to put a hand on his back, but he did it anyways, stroking that expanse of skin as soothingly as he could manage.

Finally, finally, Sawdust stopped wailing and went limp and panting on the floor. Adrien pulled the paper towel back, and it didn’t seem like more blood was welling up in the wound for now.

“Come on, come on,” Adrien dropped the bloody clump of paper on the floor and scooped Sawdust up in his arms. The pet’s face was lax, eyes distant and not seeming to track or recognize anything. He was loose in Adrien’s arms, save for the occasional sniffle or jump in his chest as his breath hitched. His eyes were red and his cheeks were wet with tears.

Adrien laid him down on the sofa in his living room, deciding that he’ll just throw the cushions’ covers in the wash if he had to. With Sawdust in such a state, he didn’t reach out when Adrien left to get the first aid kit.

Adrien had to gently push and pull Sawdust’s head to get him to tilt it so he could apply the ointment and gauze onto it and wrap it up. The pet didn’t even wince when Adrien handled it.

“I don’t know if you… If you can hear me, I guess.” Adrien sat down on the floor by Sawdust’s head, “But I really, really don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m sorry.” He felt kind of stupid talking to Sawdust when he was like this, showing no response.

“Obviously you’re not- not happy here, I don’t know. Should I find someone else to take you? I don’t know anyone, but I, I could probably find someone.”

Sawdust blinked slowly, and shifted a little. A little bit of recognition came back to his eyes.

“It’s fucking obvious I haven’t been doing a good job with you, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I’ve given you a home that makes you feel like you need to do- do this to yourself.”

Silence stretched between them. Sawdust’s fingers twitched where they rested on the fabric of the couch.

“I should’ve thought more about this before I did it.” Adrien reached out and ever so gently pet Sawdust’s head. “I’ll try to find someone that can take you, give you a better home.”

With small, stained, damaged fingers, Sawdust weakly held on to Adrien’s wrist.

taglist: @starnight-whump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @neuro-whump @whump-me-all-night-long @cupcakes-and-pain @whumpzone @whumpcreations @dancinglifeboat @pinkraindropsfell @looptheloup @cowboy-anon @meetmeinhellcroutons @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @firewheeesky @maracujatangerine

#whump #whumpblr #whump community #whump writing #pet whump #pet whumpee #adrien and sawdust #whump recovery #whumpee #caretaker

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thisisgonnafuxkinkillme · 3 years

Text

Pro Heros Find You Crying

Warnings: tw for body image, mentions of death of pets

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

You were home, alone, when you found out. It wasn’t a particularly big issue, and it wasn’t something that someone else would necessarily care about, but to you, this was the final straw.

An actor from your childhood, someone who you watched constantly as a child, someone who, albeit from a screen, saw you grow up, passed away. You never got to even meet him in person. The closest you’ve ever gotten was him noticing your comment on a livestream of 12 other people, and smiling.

You never got to thank him. For everything he’d done for you.

Tears fell from your eyes uncontrollably, dripping from your eyelashes and dropping onto the floor, your clothes, the keyboard.

Soon, though, you felt dreaded sobs making their way from your core all the way through your vocal cords. They shook your body like an earthquake. Sobs don’t care what they break inside you. They just need to get out.

What no one else would understand about this, though, was that your tears weren’t just being spilled for the actor you never got to thank. No, these represent so much more.

Your childhood is officially gone.

Just as that actor will be grieved, buried, and will rot in the ground with dusty fake flowers above his grave, your childhood will be filled with maggots and worms.

The thing about childhoods, though, is that they still live inside you, even when they’re over.

You always found this fact a cruel one. Even now, you could feel the worms burrowing into your childhood, eating away and destroying all the memories you’ve tried so hard to keep in tact for all these years.

You sobbed for him, yes. But you were still grieving your loss as well.

Cold, bony fingers met your shoulder. You jumped, yelping at the sudden touch.

“What?! What do you want?!” you screamed. You aren’t usually this ornery, but the embarrasment of being this upset over something so menial, plus the shock of someone else being home with you, caused you to snap.

"What happened?" He gently asked. He met your seemingly angry tone with nothing but pure kindness and sympathy.

"I-I'm so sorry, Toshi...I didn't mean-"

"I know, pumpkin. I know."

He took you in his arms, pulling you towards him.

In between sobs, you explained what happened.

"oh...I see... That does sound like a lot for you to be dealing with."

He stroked your tear stained cheek.

“But...I hope you know that just because you’re older, it doesn’t mean that you’re not allowed to be a kid sometimes. You can still get excited over stuff, and cry over things that seem silly, and have wonder about new things. As long as you keep a piece of your childhood with you, you never have to say goodbye.”

Once you calmed down, he took you out for ice cream: something you haven’t done since you were barely 10 years old.

Aizawa Shouta/Eraserhead

You quickly clicked your heels into the staff restroom, closing the door behind you and shakily letting out a sigh of relief. You knew you didn’t have much time left before the tears started coming once you got that text, so you decided it’d be best for you to go ahead and have another teacher deal with your class for a few minutes while you let yourself deal with this, alone.

You re-read the text one more time. Maybe it wasn’t what you thought it was.

Y/n... I’m so sorry, but your dog was put to sleep today.

You shook your head. No, maybe she meant to say that he was taking a nap. Maybe he was still waiting for you, at home, in his little bed...

A sob escaped before you had the chance to control it as you pictured his little black and white face peacefully sleeping on his doggie bed.

You had that dog for years. He’d been there for you when no one else had, and though he couldn’t speak, you always knew he silently understood what you needed when you needed it.

Now, he was gone.

You covered your mouth, trying your best to supress the sounds of sorrow escaping your lips. Maybe, you thought, if I don’t acknowledge it, it’s not real.

But deep down, you know that’s not true.

The door to the staff bathroom begins to creak open.

“Hey, someone’s in here!” you croak out, the tears were even audible in your voice.

“Yeah, and now I’m in here too,” the teacher replied, shutting and locking the door behind him. Something you had forgotten to do.

It was Aizawa, the very teacher you had just asked to watch your students ‘for a moment’.

Before you could ask about them, he mentioned, “They’re fine. I put on a movie for em... but you, on the other hand, are certainly not.”

He took his place next to you on the dirty tile floor of the school restroom, against one wall. He handed you a tissue, noting but not mentioning the fact that you were a mess of tears, ruined makeup, and snot. You gladly accepted, blowing your nose.

Neither of you said much for a good five minutes. You forced yourself to calm down, as to not embarrass yourself in front of him, but the tears were still there, festering below the surface.

“So, what’s got you so upset?”

That little question was all it took for you to break. You tried, unsuccessfully, to say it. The three little words, “My dog died,” but no matter how much you strained, all that came out was a mess of choked up sobs.

You shakily handed him your phone. His eyes darted to the text, and he instantly understood.

Aizawa was not one for any physical touching, ever. Even though you had been dating him, he still never really enjoyed holding hands, hugging, or anything like that.

Today, however, was a totally different situation. He turned to you, opening his arms wide, gesturing for you to ‘come here’.

But you didn’t need anything more.

You did, and he silently cradled you, rubbing your hair.

Truthfully, he didn’t know exactly what to say. What could you say?

Once you began to calm down, he stroked your jaw lightly.

“What was his name?”

“...Theo.” you answered plainly.

“You loved Theo a lot, didn’t you?”

You nodded.

“You know, what’s so funny about losing a pet is that...it’s incredibly hard,” he sighed, “Even harder than losing humans.”

Aizawa continued, “It’s because we don’t have anything to gain from lying about loving them. We just do. Animals love their owners completely unconditionally, never needing any reassurance that you love them back a hundred times over. That’s not something that many humans have.”

You nodded.

“ I just hope you know that...you did your best for him. He couldn’t have ever asked for a better owner to share his life with. You did good, y/n,” he whispered. You shot him a shaky smile. Really, your heart was aching more now than ever.

“You don’t have to do all that. I know you’re not doing well, still. Please, go ahead and go home for the day. I can take on your class, no problem,” he assured.

“...can you...come over after work?” you asked. He nodded.

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fatgum

It’s been almost a year since this pandemic began. You wonder to yourself, how long can that be an excuse for you?

You had gained weight. A lot of it. You suffer from secret binge eating, indulging yourself greedily in all your favorite comfort foods. Usually, you did this at night, which worked out even better for you, since your boyfriend usually had night watch and was not at home.

Stretch marks were always a normal sight for you, ever since you hit puberty, but the ones on your stomach have started to move upwards, like vines trying to find the sun. They stared back at you in shades of purples, pinks, and browns.

You ran your fingers over your now bumpy skin.

Other girls don’t look like this. Other girls are happy with a miniature bowl of oatmeal for breakfast, a granola bar for lunch, and maybe a tiny serving of pasta for dinner. They are the beautiful ones. They must be happy, right?

Your fingers unrelentlessly pinch and pull at your stomach, your thighs, your love handles. All fat.

Each tiny action reminded your body that you hated it.

Did you even ever love your body? Even when you were ‘skinny’?

Your eyes met with your face, staring back at you in your mirror. You saw flashes of the girl you once were, tiny memories of a once happy girl.

You couldn’t hold back the wail of grief that racked your whole body. You turned away from the mirror, curling up on your floor.

That wasn’t any better.

The remanants of last night’s binge surrounded you. Wrappers from your favorite ice cream bar, discarded chip bags, and candy containers scattered your floor.

You suddenly remembered that he’d be home soon, and scrambled to collect all the evidence through your blurry eyes.

Each piece of trash reminded you of your failure, your lack of self control. Your uselessness.

You sobbed harder.

“Y/n, darling, I’m home!” that peppy, familiar voice announced from the entranceway. You took a deep breath, scooting all the trash under your bed and wiping your face.

You greeted him, a faux smile plastered on your face.

He began to speak, but when he got a good look at you, he paused.

“What happened here, sweetie?” he asked, touching your face. His hand was chilled from the outside air.

“N-nothing. I’m fine,” you lied, forcing the smile a little more.

He squinted his eyes, sitting down at the kitchen table.

“Go ahead an’ tell me what’s going on with ya,” he offered, patting one knee.

“Baby, it’s nothing. You need to go to bed, I know you’re probably exhausted.”

“The only thing exhausting me right now is you. I’ll go to the bedroom if that’s whatcha want, but I’m not goin to bed until you tell me what’s wrong.”

Fatgum made his way into the bedroom, quickly slipping into his house clothes before sliding into the bed you both shared.

Before you could join him, he paused, adjusting himself.

He then pulled out a popsicle stick that you neglected to remove from the bed when you made it this morning. At the sight of it, you turned away from him and covered your face.

He was now wholly confused, but ready to deal with whatever it was that was upsetting you. He reached out, pulling you to him. You wanted to protest, but you couldn’t find the strength to anymore.

He rubbed your back in small circles, cooing, “let it out, babydoll...that’s it, good...”

Once you had calmed down quite a bit, he tilted your chin up towards his face, making you make eye contact.

“What have you been hiding from me, love?” he delicately questioned.

You said nothing, but slid out the pile of trash from the night before.

“This...is from last night,” you stated plainly.

You tensed your body, ready for the ridicule, the mocking, the ‘i’m just concerned for your health’ comments.

You looked up, to see if he could actually see what you’d just shown him. He did. His eyes were dewy yet understanding.

He stood up, placing his arm around you and pulling you towards him.

“I understand,” he whispered into your ear. You clenched your fist.

“No. You can’t understand.”

You looked up at him, with now angered eyes.

“You’ll never understand, Tai. Never.”

“What do you-”

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO STAY FAT FOREVER! I DO!” you screeched, covering your face. You never yelled at him before, or anyone else for that matter. But this issue you’ve been dealing with was one that no one ever saw from you. It was a raw, bleeding subject, one that you felt as if you’ve just poured a great deal of salt on.

“Darling...” he whispered, pulling you close to him, “What’s wrong with being fat, honey?”

“Are you kidding?” you spat, “I don’t look good like this, Tai. I don’t fit into my clothes anymore, I-”

“Number one, you most certainly do look good like anything. Number two, I will buy you new clothes.”

You were starting to get frustrated.

“Tai! I’m telling you, I fucking hate myself, okay? I hate my body! And, sometimes, I hate you for pretending to love something that I know you hate, too!”

He pulled you away from him, looking you in the eye. He was serious now.

“Don’t you be puttin words in my mouth. I have never ever, not even once thought about hating you or your body,”

“That’s a lie, Tai! How could you ever love me when I look like this?”

“How could you ever love me when I look like this?” he retorted, gesturing to his fat form.

You gasped. You didn’t really have an answer.

He knew you wouldn’t, either.

“So, now tell me, y/n... what’s so wrong about being fat?”

You clung to him, apologizing in between sobs.

He hushed you, cooing,” There’s nothing for you to be sorry about, it’s okay. I love you, sweetie.”

You sniffed, “I love you, too.”

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years

Text

Escape: Part 2

This is a bit different from what I usually do. @equestrianwritingsstuff recently posted a one-off piece, and I got a little bit obsessed with it. So, with her permission, this is a continuation! The original post can be found here.

Summary: After being captured and forced into a torturous reform program, Villain attempts escape-- but throws it all away to save the life of his foe.

CW//Attempted conditioning, denial of food, denial of water, intentional self injury, broken glass, blood, mentions of car crashes, collars, chains, firearms, attempted murder

“Okay.” The sigh was sharp, enough so to make Villain bite their own tongue in apprehension. “Let’s try another one.”

Nosey shuffled through the stack of papers piled before them on the desk. Villain glanced down at the pile-- noting its sheer height. He wasn’t expected to go through all those, right? No, that would certainly take all night.

“Here.” The hero before him settled on one of the pages, picking it up. “This one should be easy.”

Villain muttered something under his breath, laden with swears and insults.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Mhm.” A haughty exhale. “Here. If you get this one on the first try, you can go back to your cell and... I don’t know, do whatever it is you do. I’m tired of looking at your face.”

Back to his cell. That made Villain perk up, nearly straining against the cuffs holding him firmly to the table.

“Okay, let’s just get this over with. Here’s the scenario. You’re walking along the street, and you see someone hit by a car. The car does not stop, and the victim is thrown onto the sidewalk in front of you. They are clearly alive, but severely injured. Do you:

A: Use your healing powers to treat their injuries.

B: Search the surrounding area for a civilian with medical training

C: Contact the Heroic Civilian Treatment Team to take the victim to hospital.”

“Um...”

Villain felt the hairs on the back of his neck stick up, despite being half wetted down with sweat.

If someone had been struck by a vehicle, the obvious answer would be to help them as quickly as possible. As soon as injuries like that were inflicted, the clock was already ticking.

The heroes were terribly resistant to him using his powers in any situation-- that was somewhat the whole point of the Villain Containment Practices. But in this case, it would certainly be an exception, right? Their whole job was supposed to be protecting life.

“Uh- I- I think A.” He at last croaked out. “Use my healing powers to stabilize them, then find a civilian doctor to get them to the hospital.”

Nosey sighed.

“A situation like this should always be deferred to us. Using your powers is never the answer.”

They placed down the paper, hastily rearranging the messy stack of them.

“Let’s go back to the gym. I’ll let you off with ten laps, this time.”

Villain gulped, phlegm sliding down a dry throat, as a pair of guards advanced to untie him from the table.

“C- Can I have some water? Please?”

“You’ve already lost your food privileges for the day. Do you really want to lose your water, too? You get water once you’ve earned it. For now, we’re going to the gym.

At this rate, maybe you should just become a permanent resident in our program.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The glass was mocking them.

Villain was certain of that, even as he kneeled on his cot of a bed, half delirious, half exhausted.

The glass of water sat on a small table at the bed’s end. Just a glass, hardly even filled halfway. Haphazardly placed under a faucet for a few moments without thought.

He knew he had to drink it. He didn’t have much of a choice. Tomorrow would only bring more questions, more laps, more push-ups, more lectures. It would be terrible, certainly, but the small amount of liquid would make it at least the tiniest bit more bearable. Give him the tiniest bit more strength.

It was all he had. He’d spent the day watching his classmates-- that’s what the heroes called them, they were fellow prisoners, at best-- eating their meals, while he sat at an empty table.

Just because he had started a fight didn’t mean he should have to starve. Besides, they had it coming. Stuck up ass.

Villain frowned, cracked and dry lips sticking together, and reached forth to pick up the glass.

He needed to drink it, but as soon as he did, it would be gone. He would have to earn the next few drops through countless tears and buckets of sweat. At the very least, right now, he had control. He had a choice.

Not a very good one, but...

When had he gotten to this point? Having a crisis in a barren room over a half-glass of water? He was supposed to be a villain. Others were supposed to fear him.

Besides...

Villain’s hand shook, water sloshing, even as he was careful not to lose a single, precious drop.

He didn’t know how much longer he could survive like this. Endless exercise, endless questions. Maybe they would never let him out. Maybe they wanted him to die here. Hell, they probably wanted him to die here. One less problem, drained of strength until they no longer had enough to breathe.

This was one long, drawn out execution. Even if it wasn’t, he could hardly imagine a situation in which they allowed his parting. In which they considered him at long last “reformed.”

Villain had to leave. He had to. He was leaving here either in a glorious escape, or in a body bag. Or, worse: In a hero’s uniform.

He downed the water, feeling the heavenly moisture fill his throat. It was the best thing he had ever tasted, despite the fact that water had no taste to it.

It was far less pleasant than what would come next. He knew from unfortunate experience that there were only two things that could get him out of this cell: Going to ‘class,’ or having an emergency.

The first wouldn’t work.

There was no camera in the room, he had searched long and hard to confirm that fact. At the very least, he didn’t have to do much in the way of acting. Not yet.

He swung his unsteady legs over the edge of the bed, standing, stumbling halfway to the end table.

Before throwing the glass to the floor.

It was a miracle, that the heroes allowed him glass dishware. The cup exploded, a thousand shining pieces scattering about the floor.

Now, for the unpleasant part.

Villain gritted his teeth, throwing himself onto the broken glass, ensuring that it dug into his flesh, his legs and his palms. At the very least, his screams were genuine.

“Help! Help!” He wailed. “I’m hurt! Help, please help! Oh god, that’s my blood, oh god oh god...”

There was no camera in the room, but the door was plenty thin, and in this facility, screams carried far. To ensure this, he let out a few more cries, carrying them on until the door lock was frantically turned, the door thrown open on its hinges.

Hero’s inhale was quick enough that she nearly started choking on her own breath.

“V-Villain, oh god, that’s- That’s your blood?”

Of course it was, dimwit. It was flooding from his skin, wasn’t it?

“Y- Yes. I tripped, um, oh god, oh...”

The swaying and slurring of his words were not pretend, either. Dehydration and hunger made sure of that.

“Can you walk?” How was there so much concern in her tone?

“Don’t know.”

“We need to try. I can carry you, but- We need to get to the infirmary.”

The hero hurried to their foe’s side, arms under his shoulders helping him to his feet. He could walk on his own, not well, but he could-- though Hero had no need to know that.

“Okay.”

“It’s a pretty long walk. We can take it slow, okay?”

“Yeah.”

That was exactly what they did. Their movements were so painfully slow that at times Villain wondered whether or not they were moving at all, but, after some time, they did cover some distance. The few people awake at such an hour steered clear, seeing a villain covered in blood and wanting nothing to do with it in the slightest.

The infirmary was on the bottom floor, Villain had seen it on his way in, making note of its placement. Of course, Hero wasn’t about to make him struggle down all those stairs. No. She went straight for the elevator, stepping into the isolated box with her foe and letting the doors closed.

This was it. The elevator ride would only last a few moments-- it was now or never.

As subtly as he possibly could, Villain placed his hand upon his injured leg, the minty thrum of healing powers knitting together the slices. Though, it did nothing to dry the blood that had already seeped out.

He was healed, and Hero was alone. Trapped.

By all accounts, it was a fight that Villain should have lost. He was exhausted, stomach left empty for far too long, and veins severely lacking in blood. Hero had the benefit of being well-fed, well-rested, all of it.

But that explanation left out one thing.

Villain was desperate.

He watched the small, digital screen count down the floors.

4...

3...

2...

Now!

The strike may not have been powerful, but it was aided by the sheer speed at what it was launched. Villain’s fist collided with Hero’s temple, knocking her sideways, stumbling. He wasted not a millisecond in preparing his next strike, hearing the crack of a cheekbone beneath his knuckles.

Hero let out a cry, holding her face where a bruise would certainly bloom in the hour. Limbs still soaked in scarlet, Villain swung out with his leg, catching Hero in the knee, sending her to the elevator floor with a hollow crash.

The elevator doors opened.

It was the fastest Villain had ever run in his life, he was certain of that. His legs were little more than blurs of red as he sprinted forth, tearing through a lobby that was nearly barren. An infinitesimal distance between him and freedom.

“Oh no you don’t!”

His legs came out from under him, his face striking the tile floor, almost certainly giving him an identical blessure to Hero.

The voice-- it was Nosey’s stupid, avian squawk. And, too, their polished boot struck Villain’s back.

“You really thought it’d be that easy?”

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The metal chafed horribly against Villain’s neck, somehow making his throat’s desiccation more acute. He laid his head against the thin carpet, spine aching terribly. The movement shifted the chain latched onto his collar, the slight clinking noise making his heartbeat stutter.

Tied up like a dog.

“Is this really necessary?” He grumbled, shifting himself to a sitting position, gazing upwards.

To Hero’s bed. Her legs dangled off the side of the mattress, hands gripped into fists around gathered bedsheets.

“We’ve been over this. That cell was a privilege, and you’ve lost it.”

“And so you chain me to the wall like a dog.”

“Exactly. You need to be under my direct supervision.”

“Yeah, whatever. Did you really have to stick this stupid collar on me?”

“I’m no happier about this than you are. But I’m not giving you free reign of my bedroom. You already tried to kill me once tonight.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

“Whatever. Unlike you, I actually have things to do in the morning. So, if you would please let me sleep?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“If you do something for me first.”

“You are in the worst possible position to make demands, right now.”

Villain’s sigh tore at his throat.

“I just want some water.”

“Just that? Wait. You’re not going to smash the glass again, are you? I’m way too tired for that nonsense a second time tonight.”

“Just don’t put the water in a glass, then.”

“You actually just want water?”

“Yes.” He added rather pathetically. “Please?”

“I... Fine. Then you’ll let me sleep?”

“Mhm.”

“Fine.”

Hero stood, glancing suspiciously at her captive as she made her way across the room. As if he could do anything-- the chain was maybe three feet in length. He could barely lay his head down.

She maneuvered to her kitchenette, returning with a plastic cup-- filled to the brim with that precious liquid. She placed it before him. He was already drooling.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Goodnight, Villain.”

“Goodnight.”

Was that really all it took to domesticate him? A glass of water? It hardly mattered. As soon as Hero turned off the light, bathing the room in shadow, Villain downed the liquid as though his life depended on it.

Perhaps, it did.

It wasn’t long before Hero’s steady breathing had turned to soft snoring. Villain shifted himself into the most comfortable position he could manage. Even that, however, was far from being pleasant, with the chain threatening to strangle him at any moment.

That wasn’t what kept him from sleeping, however. He needed to sleep. He knew that, he wasn’t stupid. He would need his energy for the next day of lessons, of shouted orders and lectures.

That was all his life would be from now on, wouldn’t it? Orders and exhaustion and being forced to earn the most basic of needs by answering moral quandaries incorrectly.

Villain wanted, longed, to cry. To let out all the horrible emotions that had stuck in his chest cavity, threatening to drown his lungs in sorrow. But that would break the conditions of the deal.

He had to be quiet, or else he might never again be allowed water.

It was that dread in his chest, that hopelessness, that forced him awake.

So, he laid, still, listening to Hero’s snores as his own body refused to allow him unconsciousness.

Snores, and...

Footsteps.

Footsteps? Villain tensed, holding stock still, pricking his ears for the noise. They drew louder, louder, before stopping. Stopping outside the dorm room door.

He held his breath.

The door opened gently enough that the hinges made only the slightest noise. Then, the footsteps were inside.

Villain shrunk down in the corner, making himself far smaller and quieter than anyone of his status should ever have had to be.

Two sets of footsteps. Growing louder, coming towards the bedroom. The bed.

Hero.

“Are you sure we need to do this?” An unknown voice, whispering.

“If you want this plan to work, we don’t have a choice.”

That voice, that voice was not unknown. It was loud, terribly high pitched, terribly-

Nosey.

“We really have to kill them?”

“We won’t get the chance if you keep talking. Just do it, don’t chicken out on me, now.”

“Okay, okay.”

Villain’s heartbeat shivered.

The cocking of a gun. That horrible sound, that precursor of bloodshed.

Then, the shot. Two pairs of footsteps, fleeing, slamming the door behind themselves.

Villain gulped.

It was no doubt what had happened-- if he had had any doubts, they were quickly drowned out as Hero’s breathing hitched, then quieted to an almost imperceptible level. Growing slower, weaker by the second.

They are clearly alive, but severely injured.

In the scenario, he had had three choices. But this wasn’t a training scenario.

Now, he only had two.

A: Praise his lucky stars and use the opportunity to escape. There was a fire escape, just outside the window. He would be gone into the night before anyone knew any different.

Or...

B: Do the right thing.

Villain threw himself against the chain about his neck, collar threatening to cut off his airways. He spun about, gripping the chain in clammy fingers, pulling and tugging and-

Her breathing was getting quieter, weaker.

He pulled harder, muscles straining with the effort. The chain was anchored to the wall with a spike, drilled in. There was no way he could break the chain, no way he could break the spike, but-

Villain’s heel slammed through the plaster and drywall, chain flying backwards at his face. He hardly made note of it. Spike and chain and all dragging behind him, he tore to Hero’s bedside.

It was almost fortunate, that the lights were off. He couldn’t see the extent of the wounds.

He placed his hands upon her head, that minty feeling rushing to his fingers, his palms, her skin.

Using your powers is never the answer.

No. No, that wasn’t true.

Rules didn’t matter. Training didn’t matter. All that mattered was doing the right thing.

#villain whumpee #hero villain whump #conditioned whumpee #whump community #whump

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

I’m Here

CW: Negative stimming including stimming resulting in self-injury, pet whump, death of parents, grief, ableism, past noncon references, r*pe survivor having severe PTSD flashbacks, memory of shock collars, derogatory language, dehumanization, meltdown/panic attack, whump of a minor referenced repeatedly.

This is Chris in a very dark place - stay safe.

Directly follows Found Out, Akio, and Chris Sees.

Come on, 223499-

I'm Tristan! My, my, my name is Tristan, Tristan H-Higgs and I l, I, I live at-... but, um, no, no, at my, my my aunt's ap, apartment now-

Tristan Higgs is a fucking corpse, kid. You don't have a name anymore.

No, I'm, my, my name is, is, is-is-

Your name is for your prospective to choose. Now let me show you how we shut you up.

The boy is screaming, twisting, writhing in pain on the floor, clawing at the black collar around his neck, desperate to somehow escape it, but there isn’t any way out. He digs his fingernails down his skin but it’s still there, the collar never leaves, you’re only safe with your collar on, no wait that hadn’t happened yet-

Oh, that’s nice. Time for the Drip for you.

N-no, no-

Welcome home, 223499.

M-my name is, is, is Tristan-

Chris slams the door on his way into the bathroom, locks it behind him, sweeps everything off the counter with a crash, plastic bottles of soap bouncing, a toothpaste container clicking against the tile, the toothbrush holder shattering and sending shards of ceramic pale on one side and rainbow-painted on the other everywhere. He stares at them clicking over the floor before they stop, some of them skimming the tile all the way to the wall.

Inside his head, there is a cry, bubbling up behind the wall that his life has been hidden behind, deep inside the cold pale light that all the worst things drown in.

Beneath the Drip, the needle in his arm, beneath the pain, the fear, the hands that moved over him and the bodies that moved inside him and the voice in his ear whispering, pet, pet, pet until he was one, until he wasn’t anything else any longer, until he was ready to be overwritten.

My, my, my name is Tristan Higgs, my name is, is, is Tristan, my name is-

Didn’t I tell you Tristan Higgs is dead, trainee? All that’s left of you is my pretty little whore. You wanted it so bad you signed up for this. Now get on your knees and show your handler some respect.

No, pl-please, please I don’t-, I, I, I don’t want to, I-

What you want doesn’t matter anymore, 223499.

Please-

What you want is irrelevant, trainee. Now let me show you what I want.

Inside his head there is a boy, screaming, his wrists forced down by larger hands, body rocked in a rhythm of terrible pain while a stranger who will be his entire world whispers in his ear, I paid extra for this and you did not disappoint, darlin’.

There’s a boy alone in a white room, painting with his own blood on pristine white walls, just to see color, just to see something, anything, that isn’t nothing at all. There’s a boy, alone, whispering apologies to the parents he is losing, their memories slip-sliding under the surface until they are gone.

There is a boy, screaming.

Chris screams with him, their voices in tandem, in echo, but it's the same voice, and the scream was always him, always Tristan Higgs inside him, buried beneath it all.

Chris screams until his throat is raw, bashes his hands into the mirror until it rattles under his fists, rocks forward to knock his head into it. Again, and again, and again, rattling it inside the frame, trying to force a break. The chaos inside him is too much, too strong, and at the center of the train tracks is her face, always her face, her hands, her lips moving and fighting to speak, her face.

I love you, baby, I l-love you, it's okay, it's okay-

Mom, please, pl-... please, no, no no no, I’m, I’m s-sorry, I’m so so sorry, I’m, I’m sorry-

Sssshhh, baby, it’s-... it’s okay, it’ll b-be okay, Tris, Mommy loves you, h-honey, Mommy-... loves you s-so much-... Her eyes shining like marbles, her blood on the wall, burbling from her chest as she fought and fought to breathe and then she stopped and her eyes, her eyes stayed open…

He laid with her and she was so cold and no one came to help him and no one came and they were both so cold and he stayed with them all night, wailing into her shirt soaked in blood, into his side, laid down between them and tried to keep them warm with blankets but they were gone and it didn’t matter and it was-

If it weren’t for you, she’d still be alive.

His aunt looks at him with hate or stares through him and there’s no routine and there’s no therapy and Aki is gone and his phone is gone and he hurts himself desperately just to feel something other than the chaos and the noise and the cracking, shrieking angry pain inside him, the guilt the blame the hate and oh, how he hates himself for not staying still the one time it counted and no one is coming and no one loves him anymore because they’re gone and his aunt doesn’t love him because he should never have been born-

If he weren’t born she’d still be alive-

"It's not okay!" He screams again, tearing at his hair, clawing at his arms, dragging deep red welts down on each side, trying to dig the pain out from inside of him. “It’s not okay, it’s, it’s, it’s not, it’s, it’s not, not, not, not-not-not, not okay, not-”

Please, pl-please, let, let, let me go-

Told you to stop rocking, didn’t I? You did this to yourself. Be still, statue boy.

Pl-please, I, I don’t know how-

You’ll learn.

His head snaps to the side with the imagined memory of a slap to the face, his breath catches with the pale shade of the shock collar lighting him up, nerves sparking shrieking agony, the needle in his arm, it's in his arm again this isn’t freedom he’s just gone crazy from drugs again and he’s on the Drip again and he was never not on the Drip he was, was never free no one saved him no one is coming-

He rocks forward, again and again, banging his head into the mirror until there's blood, until it cracks, bad luck for seven years, Tris, sucks to be us, and they laughed, the two of them, carefully picking the shards up to put in the wastebin and Aki grinned at him, unbothered, because his mom would probably forgive them and it wasn’t a big deal-

Let’s, let’s, let’s make up a, a routine, Aki, yeah?

Yeah, sure, but can we like… be normal teenagers for a half-hour first?

Um, how, how do we-

I thought we might start by watching TV and not doing our homework. You know, get crazy with it. Maybe even go super crazy and eat leftover pizza.

Chris's lips curl back from his teeth and he stares at himself in the mirror, his wide green eyes and pale eyebrows that darkened a little with age, blue hair that hangs around his face, frames the lines of his cheekbones. The gash along his forehead where he hit the mirror hard enough to open it, bright red blood welling up and slowly seeping out.

He lifts one hand, pressing his fingertips to the crack in the mirror that matches the cut in his forehead. There’s a little bit of blood there, and it smears under his fingers. For a second, he’s fascinated by it, the liquid that slips along, ripples his reflection.

It doesn’t feel like part of him. It’s just something he can control, when he can’t control anything else.

Behind him, the doorknob rattles, but Chris barely notices. “Chris?” It’s Jake’s voice, and Chris swallows, ignores the push, the urge, to let him in. Instead he keeps looking at himself, tries to see the boy inside his head, the boy in the room, under the men, the boy screaming in his head while his mouth learned to say all the words they wanted..

Come here, pretty-... oh, look at you, so full of tears for me, hm?

On your back, gorgeous boy.

On your knees, pretty pet.

What you want doesn’t matter anymore.

No isn’t an option for you any longer.

Don’t I always give you options, pretty thing? You can choose to be good, my good little slut, or…

“You, you, you can choose pain,” Chris whispers, finishing the sentence that started in his handler’s voice, in his mind. “Too, too, too… pretty to, to be for anything else. Too pretty… too, too pretty for, for, for…”

He nails the dismount for the first time on the the bars, his body does exactly what he wants, and he looks up to see his mom cheering for him, and he jumps up and down, hands moving, rocking with his happiness, and his team cheers for him, and his scores are really good so he can go to state and he’s so happy-

He’s so happy-

She’s so proud of him-

There’s a hand in his hair, jerking his head back to look up at his Sir, who smiles down at him, and Tristan can barely see him through his tears. He’s tied down and he can’t escape and he doesn’t know it’s his Sir, yet, he was still Tristan then but his Sir’s hand is in his hair and he whispers, God, I love that you came already flexible for me, sweetheart…

Please, n-no, please, I don’t want, want this, please, I-I-I don’t, I, I-... I need h-help, I didn’t… sign, yet, please call, call, call the the the-the cops-

Sssshhh. Sir’s finger to his lips, and he didn’t dare bite, even then. Hands on his wrists, forcing them down against the table. His back arches, trying to get away, and his Sir laughs at him, low soft chuckle, and boy weeps, turning his head to the side. You’re going to be perfect, sweet boy, I can already tell.

No, no, no no no, no, pl-please don’t, please, please, no, no, g-god, oh oh oh god, oh god, no-

I paid extra for this, and you did not disappoint.

The pain, when it comes, is blinding and never-ending and Tristan Higgs is screaming.

No one cares.

No one will come to save him.

Chris groans, pulling at his hair, trying to rip it out by the roots to settle his jangling shrieking nerves, scratching his fingernails down his cheeks as deep sa he can, smacking his hands again and again into the broken mirror, shrieking at the pretty face split apart by the cracks. A piece of the mirror falls out into the sink, and Jake is still talking, trying to open the door, but Chris isn’t listening.

He can’t hear Jake over the sound of his own mind turning against him, spitting memories he’d thought were gone, but no, dead things don’t always decay, sometimes they just wait to come back and tear out your throat and show you how it’s all your fault.

What about you, Tris? Mrs. Nakamura’s voice is gently teasing, soft and unassuming. She’s sitting with a book in a soft cozy chair somewhere with nice warm lights, and everyone watches Tristan’s hands move to tap on himself without judgement, without shame. We all know Aki can’t take his eyes off of that pretty Nicole girl-

Mom. No. Please, please do not talk about this. Oh my god. She’s just my teammate!

I’m just being silly, Aki.

It’s, um, it’s okay, Mrs. Na, na, Nakamura. I’m just-... nobody for, for, for me, right now. Tristan’s face is red, he’s blushing, and he hasn’t really thought about it much, beyond just thinking everyone is pretty, but he hasn’t told his mom yet, and-

Oh, well, maybe later. You two are so busy getting ready for state, anyway.

He can hear Jake back on the stairs, now, thumping down them and away, and Chris’s hands move rapidly over the sink and counter, avoiding the bits of shattered mirror. He’s standing in ceramic but he doesn’t notice, he doesn’t care. His body doesn’t belong to him, anyway, his body belongs to his handler his owner his rescuer his anyone but him it’s not his it’s not his body, they took his body and he doesn’t get it back…

He wants his body back.

He yanks open the drawer, shoving through the disposable shaving razors that Jake buys, the nail-clipping kit he keeps in here, a stupid little comb that he can’t see any use for, rolls of gauze and bandages, tossing them to the floor, until he finds what he’s looking for.

A pair of scissors, used mostly for gauze and bandages, big shining metal scissors that weigh heavy in his hands.

Chris stares up at himself in the remaining mirror, pulls a hank of his hair out straight with one hand, and clips right through it with the scissors. He lets out an exhale, and grabs another bit of hair, and does it again.

Blue drifts down to gather with the broken glass in the sink and on the floor, piling higher and higher as Chris keeps cutting, staring into his eyes and not looking at how even the cut is. He looks at the bloody mess on his forehead-

Mom, please, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I, I, I moved, I’m so so sorry, I’m sorry…

It’s okay, baby-

Blood on the wall, he stayed there all night and no one came. She was cold, he couldn’t keep her warm all by himself.

“It’s, it’s not okay,” Chris whispers, and Sir’s hand is heavy on his neck, look at how you ruined yourself since you left me, darlin’, but his Sir can’t stop him because his Sir is dead, too. Everyone who cares for him dies but Jake and Antoni and Laken and maybe they’ll die, too, because of him, because he’s too pretty to be for anything else-

There’s blood on the featureless white wall and he pulls it through his fingers and it’s something that’s not white, he barely recognizes it as his blood, it’s just bright red and feels good under his fingers, the blood cools and dries so he hits his head and makes more, and more, and more-

He keeps cutting, until what’s left is a shaggy, unkempt mess, different lengths all over, and all his hard-won long hair is gone. He has wisps that hang over his forehead, little bits that tickle the tops of his ears. He cuts until it’s just little scruffs, barely blue at all.

He drops the scissors into the sink on top of the pile of blue hair, runs his hands back through his hair, watches more loose bits drift slowly downward.

He lifts his hands and takes out his piercings, one by one, dropping them into the sink with the hair, until his ears are bare, too, and his eyebrow. Nothing but a thin narrow face, nothing but freckles that stand out too much, nothing but big eyes and chin.

He pulls his shirt off over his head, and then his compression shirt. Takes off his pants and his boxers and then straightens to stare at himself naked in the bit of mirror still left.

“I, I’m good for you,” He whispers, tilts his head just right, looks up at himself through his eyelashes. His look is warm and liquid and well-trained, a show of desire he’s never once felt. He bites down on his lower lip, just so, hand moving as if to brush a bit of hair back - but the hair he might have touched is gone, it’s in the pile in the sink.

The look is ruined by what he’s done.

Good.

Wide green eyes, yeah, let’s see those eyes nice and empty for me, trainee, but they’re red-rimmed and shadowed, full of pain. His eyelashes - inhuman, unearthly, pretty boy - are barely visible. Freckles that stand out too much, I’m going to kiss every single one until you understand how beautiful you are, Chris, okay? scattered over his nose and the angled cheekbones. Narrow chin, perfect for gripping and moving his head around, smeared with drying blood. Bleeding from the slash across his forehead, running slowly down to stain his pale eyebrow darker, to run into his left eye, what the fuck did you do to yourself, trainee?

“Not, not a trainee,” Chris whispers. “Not a, a pet. Not Tristan. Not, not, not. I’m, I’m Chris, I made myself, I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m, I’m... I’m I’m Chris, I’m, I’m Christopher fucking Stanton, I’m-... I’m Chris.”

Big scratches down his cheeks, his neck, bright red welts that might turn to bruises, that he could open into bleeding, he could make himself so ugly no one ever wants him again. “Not, not, not so pretty anymore,” He whispers, and his throat closes up against the words, but it feels good, it feels important. “Not, not, not pretty, now.”

Not worth dying over, not worth breaking, not worth noticing, not worth taking, not worth buying, not worth rescuing, not worth being arrested for, not worth saving, not pretty enough to hurt, not pretty enough to love.

You fucking freak, I don’t know how Ronnie managed to think you were so great, you can barely brush your own teeth.

How the hell did she love you? You ruined her life.

If it weren’t for you...

The door suddenly jolts open, and Chris doesn’t flinch - he doesn’t look back - only stares at himself, rocking slowly forward and back on his toes and heels until his head bumps the cracks in the glass like the cracks inside of him, his hands twisting at the ends of his wrists to smack rhythmically into his sides, his hips, harder and harder, fighting to find the same soothing rush that motions like this normally bring.

It’s too loud, inside of him. It’s too much. He can’t stop the trains roaring up out of the light, bringing everything into the darkness where he only wants to hide.

“Holy shit, Chris,” Jake whispers, standing behind him, eyes wide with shock. “Wh-... why did you… Oh, Chris, no. Oh, no, oh fuck, Chris, you hurt yourself, you haven’t done that since-”

Chris turns, ceramic crackling underfoot, sharp little spikes of pain in his feet, and looks up into Jake’s eyes. “Tris, Tristan Higgs was pretty,” He says, weakly. “I don’t want to, to, to be pretty anymore.”

Oh, darlin’, aren’t you just pretty as a picture.

Open up, 499.

He’s such a sweet, handsome boy, Ronnie, you’d never know he had, you know...

You can just say it, you know. It’s not a dirty word.

You’re too pretty for anything else, 499, you were always going to be somebody’s slut.

You want it-

I, I don’t want to-

No one gives a fuck what you want.

I don’t, don’t, don’t want to, please-, pl-please, please stop, please please stop touching me-

What do you say, trainee?

I want this. I want you.

Good boy.

A shudder ripples through him, a memory of pain, long gone but still written over every inch of his body. Broken, and dirty, and used until he forgot how to be anything else. He feels suddenly exhausted, weighed down, too heavy to move. There’s a weight on his chest and every breath takes an effort, takes determination, and he is losing the battle.

His lip wobbles, and he feels infinitely young, like all the years didn’t happen, and he’s still just Tristan Higgs in the end, ready to be broken, bent, and twisted.

He looks at Jake, and his brother blurs with tears. “He was, was, was too pretty for an, anything else, I d-don’t want to, to-to-to be pr-pretty like him anymore-... s-so I made, made, made myself uh-ugly-”

Jake sweeps him up and Chris lets himself be swept. The cry is bubbling up again and he wails into Jake’s shirt, gripping into the fabric and twisting his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks and stinging into the places he scratched himself. He’s pulling, tapping, rocking his bloodied head into Jake’s shoulder, fighting the trains in his mind that aren’t thoughts but memories, each one fighting to be the first to hurt him by coming back to the surface.

They crash into each other, into the wall of cold white light. They break through.

Inside him the boy in the black collar is screaming, the boy in the collar is crying, the boy is laid back on silk sheets and cries tears he has to keep inside his head while his face is smiling and his voice makes all the right sounds, the boy has his wrists and ankles locked down to keep him still, the boy is curled up between his parents waiting for someone to come and nobody is coming, the boy wears a suit in court that itches and he can’t stop shaking his hands and the judge doesn’t like him and the social worker doesn’t like him and the boy is curled up on a bed in a windowless room missing his friends, the boy hits his head and hits himself and the words are gone and the boy is screaming the boy is screaming the boy is screaming-

Mom, can Tris sleep over tonight?

Again, Aki? Well, I guess I don’t see any harm. You’ve got half your closet in Aki’s room by now, anyway. Call you mom and ask her, Tris, okay?

You fucking freak, I wish you had died with your bastard father instead of her.

I hate you, I, I hate you so, so, so-so much-

You should hate your fucking self, Tristan.

I love you, kiddo. It’s you and me, right?

Right, Mom. You, you, you and, and me.

Til your dad comes home, anyway. Can’t wait ‘til he’s working days and we’re not alone at night, huh?

Your prospective will choose your name.

I, I’m a… number. My name is… 223499, Romantic designation, Facility 001. I am a pet and… and… a toy. I am an active par, participant in fulfilling m-my, my, my owner’s desires-

I paid extra and you did not disappoint.

On your knees, gorgeous boy.

I think we’ll play a game, sweetheart.

Show some respect, 223499.

Come here, darlin’.

Good boy

I love you, Tris

Good pet

It’s, it’s okay, it’s-... okay, I l-love you, it’ll be okay-

Good boy

The boy is screaming for help and nobody is coming to save him-

“I’ve got you,” Jake whispers, holding him tightly, and Chris buries himself into the warmth, the familiar scent, the feeling of Jake’s arms is branded deeper than anything else in the world. I will rescue you, I’ll come back to you, Chris, I promise, I’m here.

I want you I love you I’m here.

“You made Chris, and you’re still Chris. This is just all the shit they took from you, that’s all. It’s okay, you can cry, Chris, go ahead and cry. It’s okay, it’s hard when it comes back, and Kauri and Ant and Laken and I, we’re all here with you.”

Chris sobs in Jake’s arms, bleeding all over his shirt, but Jake doesn’t care. He holds him anyway. There’s a throbbing pain inside his head, but it’s not stronger than the memories, and the cold white light isn’t holding them back like it used to, anymore.

Her face, her hands, the blood coming out of her, the silent house around them.

Her face.

Her eyes.

She loved him.

Oh, no, did you fall down? Oh, it’s okay, honey, I’m right here, I’ve got you - it’s hard the first time, but we get back up and try again. Here, let Mommy give it a kiss - there, all better, right?

Therapy is rough sometimes, sweetie, but listen - we can do this, together, Tris. We can do the hard stuff if we do it together. D’you want a hug? Yeah, hugs can help make it better, right? That’s what moms do.

I heard the thunder, baby. Go ahead, climb in, I’ve got you, c’mere, I’ll hold you.

I want you I love you I’m here.

I l-love you, it’s okay, it’s okay, I love you, Tris...

“I, I, I don’t want to, to be Tristan Higgs,” Chris cries against Jake’s neck, shoulders shaking, rocking, rocking, rocking in his arms. Jake’s hands are up in what’s left of his hair, feeling the short, chopped strands, rubbing over the nape of his neck, soothing the twisting hurt and fear inside him. “I don’t, I don’t, he, he, he, it was his fault, for, for, for for for moving when he had to, to be still, and I wasn’t, I didn’t do it right, and they, they d-died because of me… I l-loved, I was, they, they, they shot them and-and left me and, and, and no one came, nobody came to help, no, no, no, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“I know,” Jake murmurs. “I know. It wasn’t your fault, you were just a kid. It wasn’t your fault, Chris, whatever happened, it-... it wasn’t your fault. It was never your fault. You’re whoever you want to be, Chris, but Tristan is still a part of you, okay? We have to work on making everything integrate, work together, or it’s going to keep hurting. You have to get past the conditioning to forget, or it’s going to… get worse.”

Chris whimpers at the idea that he could feel any worse than this. “I don’t, don’t… don’t want to, to, to to to lose her again,” Chris whispers, shaking his head. “Don’t want to, to lose y-you-”

“Never. You can’t ever lose me, you’re stuck with me. I’m not going anywhere. Let’s clean up this mess, Laken is probably dying to talk to you-”

“No,” Chris whispers, begs without a voice. “No, not, not them, not… not yet.”

The scream is bubbling up again, the boy in the cold white room is rocking, rocking, rocking with his hands tied behind his back, can’t touch can’t hurt can’t feel can’t think someone help me but nobody is coming except the handler with his smile and his pain and his hands-

“Okay. No problem. Cleaning first. I’m going to bandage you up, and I’ll clean up the mess while you sit and maybe drink some water. But… can we… can we do one thing? Will you let me do one thing?”

“Wh, what?”

“Will you let me fix your hair?”

Chris pulls back a little to look up at Jake, and he smiles faintly back down, sympathetic and loving, and it’s not okay, but Jake is here, so it’s… it’s better than it would be if he were alone. “Um… y, yes, you, you you you, you can fix it.”

“Okay. I love you, little man. You weren’t supposed to see it so soon, we were going to get you ready, and it’s going to hurt coming back, but I promise… I promise it’s good for you to have it. Okay? Do you trust me, when I say that?”

Chris meets the sincere love in those blue eyes. “I, I trust you.”

He does. But he doesn’t believe him.

It’s okay, baby, it’s, it’s okay…

It’s not, and it never was, but… he remembers her face, at least. He remembers her voice.

He remembers her.

I love you, Tris, I’m so proud of you for doing the hard things, and I’m right here with you. I’ve got you, sweetheart. You and me, right? We can do all the hard shit as long as we do it together.

His fingers twitch, and he buries himself against Jake and sees her eyes full of tears and dying and her chest covered in blood and the blood on the wall and she tells him she loves him and then she doesn’t tell him anything anymore and her body is cold and Tristan curls up between them, blood drying on the wall and no one comes until the sun is shining and the blood is dry but Tristan is still crying-

Chris begins, again, to scream, but this time Jake is holding him, this time someone’s here, this time there’s someone who isn’t leaving, this time he can wail with arms around him and this time he’s not alone.

The boy is Christopher Stanton and he is Tristan Higgs and the boy is screaming and his brother came to help him and his brother is holding him tight.

I love you, Tris. I’m so proud of you.

I’m here, Chris. I’m not going anywhere.

I want you

I love you

I’ve got you

I’m here.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure, @slaintetowhump, @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary @orchidscript

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

With Enough Time

No warnings

No pairings

Jessica was three years old when Haley was born and she was entirely underwhelmed by the squirming, worm-like creature her father handed her. Ugly, she surmised, after a single glance and the wrong shade of pink to ever be considered the playmate Jessica needed in her new best friend. Never mind the screaming. Jessica had never heard a thing scream so much in her life. Yet she felt mildly curious about this little thing her parents, at least, seemed to love.

She was seventeen when Aaron Hotchner walked meekly through their front door, head turned to the ground as Haley chirped along about nonsense. Again, she turned her nose to this new addition to her family. Snubbed the idea of this person she found entirely inadequate to play a role in her circus. His face a shadow of bruises new and old, dark eyes looking everywhere but her. And like their parents who had been enraptured with the wrinkled, mangled baby they loved so dearly Haley held tightly to the black and blue boy Jessica decided she didn’t like one bit.

But she does grow to love them.

Not before the age of fourteen for Haley. Between three and fourteen Jessica endures years of listening to her baby sister cry about every single thing. She ruins fishing with her deep sobs. For the worms cruelly impaled on hooks to die a sorrowful death either torn apart or drowned. For the fish having holes torn in their faces. Jessica just liked tossing the fish back but they couldn’t do that anymore because Haley would cry and cry and cry until they stopped. So Jessica shoved her down with force and a temper she’d not yet learned to control, chased her with mud-covered hands until Haley cried more. By fourteen the crying had stopped and they’d both started to become people, not yet adults but individuals with opinions and thoughts they liked to air. Bedtimes to stay up past whispering about the things they saw or how mad they were at an injustice they felt they’d suffered by their parents.

Jessica found a confidon, a best friend in that mangy little girl she’d only ever found mildly interesting. She learned to braid hair with Haley, the younger girl sitting in her lap for hours until Jessica had formed two uneven braids. She screamed herself hoarse fighting over t-shirts or pants Haley would swipe. Stole Haley’s shirt in return, envied the way she looked or how people talked to her versus the way they never seemed to notice Jessica. Cried in her furies over the nonsense fights they’d get into. Slammed doors in her face. Called her awful names.

All to stand as her protector that first day she saw Aaron Hotchner in their house. Her jaw set and her eyes never leaving him.

But she already loved Haley and it wasn’t all that hard to learn to love someone she loved.

He reminds her of the puppy Haley brought home when she was nine. A tiny thing that hadn’t lived for very long but would follow Haley everywhere she went. Whimpering outside her door at night because Roy forbade it sleeping in her bed and yet every morning when Roy left for work Haley would sneak it in. Swaddling its shivering form in her blankets and holding it to her chest like a baby. It was sick the entirety of its life, they took it to the vet but there was just nothing to be done. Haley managed to keep it alive for a year much to everyone’s dismay. She bottle-fed it when it couldn’t or simply wouldn’t eat. Took her socks and filled them with rice and corn to make heating pads she could pop in the microwave and tuck around it.

It still died but Haley gave it her all.

She didn’t cry when it happened. It was sort of strange. Jessica got up because she heard the commotion and followed her parents into Haley’s room. Greeted by the sight of the tiny puppy in a shoebox, wrapped in the blanket Haley always held him in. There wasn’t a tear in her eyes, she had already accepted its death a long time ago. Roy had hugged her, tried to soothe a sadness Haley knew wouldn’t subside just yet. She would cry some hours later, once they’d buried it, but only softly to herself.

And when Aaron Hotchner limped into their living room, extended a trembling hand to their father Jessica wondered just where Haley acquired her love for the doomed.

It hadn’t occurred to only Jessica that once again they might watch one of Haley’s muses die. Aaron already moved like a snuffed-out candle, whisps of smoke thinning out.

But it wasn’t Aaron that died.

Jessica gets a call from the hospital and feels the adrenaline flood her body, her breath held as she waits for impending doom. The last phone call Haley made was to her and she had been a mess, sobbing in a mix of frustration and fear. They’d all been thrilled when Aaron took the job that would station him home once again but none of them had the hindsight to know it would end them up in this position. Haley and Aaron divorced. A serial killer trying to kill them. As much as that scared Haley, she thought it would be Aaron. She knew her own life was in danger but she knew Aaron, she’d loved that man for over half their lives, and she knew his life was the one really in threat.

How long could he really live away from them? As it stood he’d stayed on the couch frequently, preferred it to his lonesome apartment. And Haley knew she should impart some heavy boundaries but she’d watch him pace the porch before ringing the doorbell. Fighting up a smile and the energy needed to make Jack feel safe, to make Jack think his dad was still the same. Happy and confident and ready for whatever extravagant play Jack’s little mind could come up with.

Not long.

That’s what she’d seen in the hospital, a long sleek black coffin and having to explain to Jack why daddy isn’t coming home this time. He didn’t have long.

They all thought that. He’d become reckless after the divorce. Haley knew that would only become exasperated by her and Jack’s distance.

And now one of them is dead, just like they knew would happen, and the other not in the state to make an identification.

Haley is strong but Jessica can’t imagine having to ask her to identify Aaron’s body. So, of course, she agrees to do it. She doesn’t want to do it either. She grew up with him and in every way that Haley was her baby sister Aaron had become her stupid kid brother. He’d tackled her in the backyard, the two of them fighting over something senseless. He was the first person she called when she got drunk at a college party and knew she was no longer safe. He’d cried in her arms when Jack was born. She loves him. He’d meant the world to her too.

“You son of bitch!”

Head supported by a mound of pillows, jet black hair against bright white, it’s Aaron they find. Not Haley. The beaten black and blue boy from her childhood with his sad unfocused eyes laying there held together by bandages and machines.

Aaron had come to them once beaten so badly he could hardly stand. Haley and their mother did what they could. Abiding by the one thing he’d asked of them before collapsing, eyes rolling into the back of his head and falling into Haley’s arms. No hospital. It had made Roy livid. Jessica had never seen him like that. By all means, Roy is a kind soft man. Jessica hadn’t even heard him curse until that day. Pacing back and forth and shaking his head, angered but knew better than to say anything. Couldn’t shout or speak his mind, not when Aaron laying so close. He was already in rough enough shape, he didn’t need Roy scaring him on top of it. A ragdoll. Roy had whispered his heated thoughts to Jessica, the boys just a damn ragdoll to that man. She never understood how Roy could love Aaron the way he did and yet become so angered with Aaron for things beyond his control.

He’s a ragdoll now.

Limp and dazed as Roy grabs him by throat, shaking him and screaming.

They’d come to identify his body. To take Haley home and console her because no one should lose their spouse that young. She’d still loved him. Maybe that’s how Jessica should have known this would end because Haley had sobbed when the papers went through. She’d been inconsolable and Roy had been glad.

He’d never really loved Aaron.

Not like they had.

Jack screams when Roy grabs Aaron, startled and still too confused to understand what’s happening. He sits up in his curl of blankets, swallowed by his father’s suit jacket still settled around his little body.

Roy is blind to it, succumbing to his rage and his grief. That his daughter should die and the little bastard who only ever made her cry should live. “You son of a bitch! You--” Roy hits him. Aaron’s hardly standing, eyes hooded as he stumbles to stay on his feet. He’s leaning over himself, shaking and crying but he doesn’t fight back. He just takes it.

“Stop it!” Jessica pushes her father back. Surprising them both with her strength. “Stop it!” She stands between the two of them, the line drawn and Roy won’t push through her. He won’t. “Leave,” she shouts and she knows she needs to lower her voice. To calm things back down but her own heart is racing and she’s not thinking all that clearly anymore. “Get out.” She meets Roy’s eyes one more time, watches him glance at Aaron before turning. Leaving. Storming out in a fury but leaving his chaos behind.

Aaron’s on the floor when she turns around. He’s laying there pale skin against the chilled tile. Dark eyes hooded and too disoriented to move. One trembling hand reaching out and the other curled around his ribs. “Sorry,” he whispers. Repeats himself again, whispering frantically to her. He pulls his bandaged hands up over his face, trying to protect himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” His blood spills over the floor, smeared from his body’s struggle.

Jessica crouches down, covers his hand with her own. “Aaron,” she says. “Aaron, you’re okay.” He lays there on the floor, shivering under the lights. Jack screaming, wailing himself hoarse. Aaron’s too pale, bloodshot eyes empty.

It doesn’t seem entirely true to say she hasn’t come to simply identify him, as well.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #jessica brooks

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mirukostallbabygirl · 3 years

Text

Finally seeing each other after the pandemic ends Hcs (Gn!Reader)

So basically I got really fucking sad

So here’s this

Contents: (quirkless au) fluff, semi-angst buildup but happy end, blood? (but it’s a nose bleed), daddy kink (bakugo)

Characters: Hawks, Denki, Sero, Miruko, Bakugo

Takami Keigo (Hawks)

He was nervous waiting at the airport

The two of you started dating on campus, but you had to go back home when cases started ramping up

He just stayed in the dorms because he had nowhere else to go, and there were a few other students that did the same

But your parent(s) demanded that you come home to stay safe

You think it was just an excuse to get you to be their “little kid” again

So you hadn’t seen eachother since it started, and it was getting to the both of you

He sat near the top of the many escalators, keeping an eye out for you while trying to scroll through his phone as a distraction

It wasn’t working

He missed you so much

FaceTiming and texting were nice, but they didn’t replace the time he had with you while you were there with him

You’d walk to classes and go get coffee, getting the cheapest stuff that they had so that you could afford dinner on the days where there were food trucks down the street

The time he spent with you was electrifying, and a year away from it was incredibly hard

There were even times where he thought that you would want to stop

It was like doing long distance, and he knew how a lot of relationships didn’t make it through that

But whenever he started freaking out, it seemed like you knew, and texted him about some silly thing your family dog did, or fuming about your parent(s)

But what if you decided it really was too much? What if you wanted to stay back? What if you got another flight to avoid him? What if...

... he was overthinking

You had texted him a picture of your plane ticket with a bunch of kissy face emojis and “I’m so excited”

His mind wouldn’t stop though

He glanced up at the escalators for the seemingly hundredth time

He took in the sight of people flooding in and turned back

Wait— people flooding in— that means you

His head whipped back faster than he thought possible

And there you were, pulling your earbuds out of your ears and scanning the room for messy blond hair

You two made eye contact for a second before bolting towards eachother, skidding across the white tile floor to get there

You met it an explosive hug, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around your waist, pulling your legs up around his hips

You could feel a wet spot forming on your shoulder where he had nuzzled in, and you were sure you were crying as well

You missed him so much

You pulled slightly away after a moment to look at him, take in his features after only ever seeing them through a screen for so long

His voice was wobbly as he choked out “hey, baby bird,”

You smiled, tears were streaming down your face in buckets by now, and managed out a small “hey”

You grabbed his face and smashed his lips against your own

It was ugly, and not the best kiss, but you were there together after so long and that’s what mattered most

Denki Kaminari

He checked the address on his phone nervously as he waited at the bus stop

You were going to meet him at a Ramen restaurant that you had found online

He was nervous as he boarded the train-- you two had dated for a while before the world ended, and you had a flow to the relationship

But it had been so long, would it be like your first date all over again? would it be the same? He didn’t know and he was nervous to find out

He didn’t know that you were gnawing at your lip as you walked down the street to get to the restaurant

A feeling beyond butterflies stirred in your stomach, nerves and adrenaline, and the need to see him

you were so excited you felt like you would die, but at the same time questions lingered in the back of your mind

you had stayed in contact, and he responded quickly to your messages, and you had scheduled a date literally minutes after the cases being low enough to return to normal was aired on TV

But that never stopped the nerves of meeting someone you care so deeply about after so long

You felt your phone buzz in your hand, his name lighting up your phone screen and sending electricity down your spine

it read I'm almost there :)

you were almost there, too

it was just around the corner, and you had run past it on your jog this morning after the weird feeling of needing to know it existed nagged you, even though you had seen it a million times while walking down the street

You turned the corner just as he did and...

Promptly smashed your noses together

he wailed and you groaned, each of you lifting a hand up to grip your respective noses

But your ears perked up when you heard his voice

you opened your eyes wide to see he’d done the same, looking back at you with disbelief

he let out a small “y/n?”

your hand dropped down (after you were pretty sure it wasn’t hurt, but it felt like it needed ice) to get a better look at him

his eyebrows were high, eyes wide, and mouth agape as he took you in

you gingerly moved towards him, making sure to lean your head and angle your face away as you moved forwards

and then gently wrapped your arms around him, features soft as you put your head on his shoulder

soon his arms wrapped around you, and you both sighed, chuckling that this was your first meeting after being away for so long

you pulled away and gestured toward his nose “You okay?” a small trickle of blood dripped down and he lifted a hand up to his nose

“I swear this nose bleed is seasonal, it’s not your fault,” he laughed out as he leaned forward to not get blood on his clothes, “it is a bit of a problem, though.”

you nodded and grabbed his hand, crossing the street to a CVS pharmacy

you hurried though aisles before finally making it to the bathroom, thanking whatever power there be that it wasn’t locked

He grabbed a handful of paper towels as you went to go buy a box of tissues that wouldn’t be so abrasive on his nose

when your returned, he was nearing the end of it, and the tissues absorbed the last of it

he looked at you and blushed, “Ah I’m sorry, our first date back and I got a nose bleed and we ended up at a CVS.”

You just shook your head and pressed your lips against his, it was short but filled with the like (dare you say love) that you had pent up over your time apart

When you pulled away you teased “You might wanna wash your face there, bud. That kiss was a little iron-y”

Hanta Sero

It was almost cruel how you ended up alone in the pandemic

he had just moved into your apartment, and had to go away on a business trip to Spain

You two had joked around about it-- him being able to take a trip to suck a romantic place, without you

he was supposed to be gone 2 weeks

at the end of week 1, the world went into a total shutdown

he was stuck in Spain, and you were stuck at home, alone

You kept in contact obviously, it had been years that you had been dating, but it was the most strain you two had ever been under

He felt bad keeping a secret from you but he felt like he had to-- besides, it would be great for you in the end

so he lied and said that he couldn’t call that night because he had a meeting, avoiding the subject the you said you could call earlier or later

What’s the fun in telling you that he couldn’t call was because he had gotten a plane ticket back home?

So he was sitting nervously in a plane seat, hoping you wouldn’t be upset

Meanwhile, you were moping, convinced you had finally bored him, he was going to start pushing you away

so you microwaved a TV dinner and flipped on the cooking channel, acknowledging how sad it was that you were eating mushy food that was still cold in the middle while watching top chefs create fabulous dishes

An array of shows came on, all of them reruns from before when they could actually be on set

A show came on that you found particularly infuriating, and you sighed as you watched an inexperienced chef nearly burn down the kitchen by putting water on a grease fire

You didn't know why you enjoyed the show so much given how much the contestants bothered you, but you watched it nonetheless

A particularly idiotic chef burned his fish to the point of no return and you were screaming out insults

“Dude, how old are you,” you accused, “you should at least know how to do this.”

“Hmm, I’d say around 38.” you heard a voice speak from behind you

your head whipped around so fast you were scare you would get whiplash

“W-why are you here?” you asked, too stunned to believe your eyes

“Wow, you sound so excited” he let out a chuckle, nervous now at your response

“what? oh-- no no no...” you rambled out, scrambling up to crawl over the back of the couch

he relaxed once you wrapped your arms firmly around his waist, your knees digging into the cack of the couch and ass sticking out in the air as you gripped him to make sure he was real

He grabbed onto your wrists to place them on his shoulders, then grabbed your hips to pull you off the couch to wrap around his waist

you hadn’t noticed you were crying until you got choked up when trying to say “I missed you”

“I missed you too” he managed, voce cracking in emotion, as well

you slid the palms he placed on his shoulders around his neck, pulling him closer to press your lips against his

You started gentle, but the need and excitement sped the two of you up

slow lips turned into clashing teeth, and gentle hands on your waist turned into groping

he pulled away for a second to sigh out “I’m so glad you aren’t mad”

And all you did in response was pull him closer

Rumi Usagiyama (Miruko)

Rumi was a big deal

She’s famous for a lot of reasons-- but one of the many was how many generous donations she had made towards finding a cure for Covid-19

You two had been dating for a while, so much so that you had talked about moving in together

the only reason you didn’t was because she didn’t want to thrust you into the spotlight

But when you couldn’t even see each other, you so wished that you would’ve fought her on that a bit more, gotten her to let you, convinced her that you were ready

but you hadn’t seen her in so long, and she was so busy, and even after the vaccine was administered to all of the population, you hadn’t set up a plan to meet

so you sat in a bar, glaring down at your second rum and coke of the evening-- you felt like shit

Bars had stopped running during the pandemic, and the screens that used to play sports obnoxiously loud now play the news, the fucking news

You were seriously concerned about the world

But that was the only distraction you had, so you watched the headlines fly by, a fire was extinguished off of the highway, mountain climbing was the new “hottest pace to be this year”, and some TV show host made an apology for an inappropriate joke

then you saw the face of your... girlfriend? could you call it that? you still talked but she didn’t seem like she wanted to see you

but you saw Rumi in the street outside of a bar downtown

Wait... you were in a bar... downtown... and Rumi was passing by the window to your left

You shot up, mind not fully working as you sprinted out the door

“RUMI?!” You screamed a little too loud

She perked up at your voice, turning around and cringing as she saw the fleet of cameras coming to harass her getting nearer

So she grabbed your arm and dragged you further down the street, deeper down until she made it to the destination she had been going to

You hadn’t realized that the bar you were at was so close to her office (ok, you did know that, but you didn’t want to admit that you had hoped this would happen)

She continued pulling you up the stairs, and your drunken giggles echoed through the empty staircase

Finally making it past her door, she pushed you against the wall and kissed you— hard

There was no preparation, she just pushed your mouth open, forcing her toungue out to lick at your bootom lip, moving in slightly before pulling out, moving in a cycle of this

Her hands gripped at the sides of your face keeping you close to her

You submit to her, only breaking away when she wouldn’t let you breathe for too long

She pulled away finally, a faintly noticeable blush on her face as she stepped away

Leaving you drunk in many ways— not just on alcohol

You were dazed from such sudden passion after going so long without it

You decided you would fight for more of that from now on

“Uhm.. well, I missed you” she mumbled out, feeling stupid now for assuming you shared her desire earlier

You moved over to sit in one of the chairs in front of her desk “you don’t even know how much I missed you” you stuttered out

Her shoulders relaxed and the fake grin she had on turned into a real one

“That was too long without you” she continued “I thought I was going to lose my mind, and I’m sorry I didn’t arrange to meet up sooner I’ve just been so busy but now I promise I’ll make time for you but it’s been really hard going bac—“

You cut off her rambling by pressing a quick kiss to her lips

“You know how you can make it better?” Your words were still slurred from earlier and they were quiet, but you knew she could hear you

She mumbled out a meek “what” before you were whispering in her ear

“Let me move in with you”

“I would love that”

Katsuki Bakugo

(Lol ok so ik this isn’t about his parents— but this was too funny to not use it, so here’s bakugo truly taking after his mother)

he had been making you call him daddy ever since you did it as a joke on FaceTime

At the start, he just said that you should do it for fun

But he grew more confident as time went on, and he had started making you beg “daddy” for things

And you didn’t hate it

But what you knew would be bad is if either of you let it slip in front of your parent(s) who insisted on tagging along with you to the station

You had decided to meet at the train station that was about 30 minutes from where both of you sheltered for the lockdown— he was taking the bus down from the north and you were driving with your parents up from the south

You got there and immidiately started scanning for your impulsive boyfriend

You had a plan to get to him before your parents could

So that you could reinforce what you had stressed over text many times— don’t. Say. Daddy.

Then you saw spiky blond hair sticking out of the crowd and started running

Hoping your parents would see it as you excuse let running towards him rather than out of the need to get to him in time

He turned to you as the crowd parted to let you jog towards him

He smiled and pulled you close, pressing your lips together when you got close enough

But he frowned when you seemed preoccupied and pulled away quickly

“Okay, I love you, but I’m serious about the daddy thing” you whispered daddy, you weren’t usually ashamed of it but it felt weird with all of the people that could overhear

“What are you shy” he cocked an eyebrow, moving to pull you close again

But you insisted “seriously, they’ll whoop my ass if they hear it— a they think I’m still a little kid”

“Oh no. Only I’m allowed to hit that pretty little ass of y-“

You shoved your hand over his mouth hissing out his name, giving him one last death glare before your parents catched up

“Hello there” he greeted them politely

You were incredibly relieved that he seemed perfectly normal and that his usual temper wasn’t coming through

Your parents had met bakugo before, but this was a whole new level of stressful as both your first time seeing him after so long, as well as the first time since your new dynamic came into play

But the exchange went well, and your parents were waiting on the platform as the two of you boarded and the t turned away

He waited until you were settled in the train to tap you on the ass, and slide his hand in your back pocket, muttering how much you were blushing into your ear

#🖌.headcannons #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #sero x reader #sero hanta x reader #miruko x reader #rumi usagiyama x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #fluff #tw: daddy kink #tw: blood #I meant to post this two days ago whoops

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florencwrites · 3 years

Text

prisoner 〚dreamwastaken〛

in which [reader] will always wait for him, in which dream is no longer dream

(!) blood, torture, emotional trauma (!)

If there's one thing that Dream had taught me; it was that persistence is key. "Stubbornness gets you places." He had always told me, laying in the grass against that same scratchy birch tree several times a week. He'd lay his head in my lap and hum songs while I played with his hair. He'd often pluck the grass and drop it on my knees, or draw little smiley faces on my skin.

He'd never meant for this to happen, for it all to happen. All along, all he had wanted was to be one big happy family, to give all his friends that exact feeling he had never gotten. He'd go out of his way to make people smile. Make them live in harmony, helping with crops and mining, even going as far as spending hours trying to find traces of ancient debris; all to make his friends content. He never wavered in his goals, always trying to convince people to see the best in everyone. Hoping that if he just kept smiling, one day, everyone would be smiling right back at him.

However, lately, his smile had rarely been genuine, really, the only time I ever saw the true glint of faith in his pupils was when we laid against that tree, humming songs and basking in the sun. He was having trouble keeping up his positive outlook, everywhere he looked there were pets dying and friendships breaking up. Houses being destroyed and families torn apart because of stupid things. Items that held no worth, that could never hold any worth as important as family or friends did.

"Stubbornness gets you places." He'd always say when I scolded him for acting like a brat. Unfortunately, the only place it had gotten him so far was in prison. I was reminded of this fact daily, returning to the impenetrable walls every minute I wasn't spending eating, at all hours of the day and night. My sobs echoed through the obsidian, mimicking the wails of the many ghasts that had tried to pass through generations of the dark purple stone. The block seemed to have created itself a connection to grief, mourning even. I pounded on the wall, to no avail I'd realized quite quickly on, until both my knuckles and palms were bloody and bruised, and I did it every single fucking day. I'd do everything to have him back in my arms, anything.

On the lonely nights, the residing heat in the obsidian often brought me warmth. The bubbles in the stone leaving marks on my shoulders. Often the warmth reminded me of him, of his chest pressing against my back. I could feel the ghost of his fingertips scour my arms, the glow of the obsidian on my neck making it almost appear as if he really was right there behind me, softly breathing into my skin. The lonely nights were good.

Because the nights where I wasn't alone, were nights I spent listening to his agonizing screams from deep within the fortress. Nights where the obsidian worked his torturous wonders and elated itself on the reminders of the excruciating pain that was put onto him. The nights where I couldn't physically bring myself to leave until his squeals had subsided, where I choked on my own tears until I could finally hear him sob again. Sobbing was good, sobbing meant that they had left him to be on his own at last, because sobbing meant that he was weak enough to them, and finally; sobbing meant no more torture.

Sam's shoes had been loud against the obsidian tiling, almost loud enough to distract me from the muffled growls that came from underneath them. Bubbling snarls that indicated that no man would be left alive, not when they breach these walls and definitely not when their body touches the water that surrounds it. He had caved, at last. He'd hastily ushered me inside late at night in the hopes of no person seeing the enormous gates open for the first time in weeks. I had clung to his waist, my knees failing me when he told me I was allowed one visit. No talking about it ever, or I'd see the same fate as my 'little boyfriend'.

He turned another corner as I cursed myself for not remembering the path we took, nor the redstone mechanisms he used to get me through the many disappearing doors. "There'll be a change of guards in 30 minutes, I need you outside in 20, got it?" His face was tense, eyes set sternly onto mine. I nodded, my head felt woozy from all the emotions swirling around it during these past few months, along with the lack of sleep, dehydration, and now adding to the list; the thought of finally seeing him again.

The umpteenth contraption boomed from beneath our feet, an almost rhythmic banging from right beneath our feet, slowly making it towards the wall in front of us. Slowly but surely the barricade was lifted, an immediate cry escaping from my lips as I saw the state of him. He was surrounded by iron bars in a cage in the immediate center of the room, the walls surrounding it bearing enough obsidian to guarantee his permanent stay.

My heart ached physically at the sight of him, my body moving itself to press against the bars hard enough to leave bruises on my ribs, dropping to my knees instantly. I reached my arms through the gaps of the confinement, barely not being able to reach where he laid curled up on the floor. He was facing me, however, his arms were shielding his features from me entirely. Tears upon tears flooded from my face as I screamed for him to look at me. He shot up, his pupils wearing nothing but complete and utter terror. He let out a loud shout, telling me to 'please, don't, please'. I wrapped one hand around the iron bars, steadying myself as I softened my voice, "Dream, it's me, baby, it's me."

He was on one knee, leaning his entire body against the barrier on the other side of the room he had fled to on instinct. His head rested on the metal for a second before instantly shooting up to look at where the voice came from. "Don't do this again, please." He pleaded, his voice was desperate, hopeless. "Anyone's voice but hers."

"Dream?" My voice was as gentle and soft as I could possibly make it while also sounding urgent enough for him to realize I wasn't fake, I wasn't some recording they played to demoralize him. "Dream, please."

His body froze at the sound once again, however, this time he turned his body into the bars. His back.

Oh, god, his back. The white tee he had been wearing the day they took him away was barely existing on his back at this point. The fabric was torn all over, showing the dozens of deep gashes beneath. His skin was practically rotting away from the outside, however, some were new. I had heard him, yesterday, I had heard his agonizing cries for release, which is exactly why I was so adamant about staying by the walls all day today. I had heard them do this to him, and there hadn't been a single thing I did or could've done about it. A sudden, almost traumatizingly powerful scream entered the small room we were in, the obsidian jumping at the opportunity of echoing; anything to prolong our agony. "PLEASE, I'M BEGGING, LET IT STOP."

My body choked up at his words, entirely shaking as his misery took its place again in my heart. I sat down, leaning my head against the metal bars as I let myself sob with him. I glanced up at where he sat on the other side of the cell, his hands pressing against his ears hard enough he could pop an eardrum, his body trembling with utter horror, slowly swaying from side to side. His back was on full display as he sat hunched over, some of the gashes tearing open again at the tension of his skin. Trails of blood soaked whatever was left of his shirt, and I couldn't help but wail out again, my heart physically feeling like it was imploding. "What are they doing to you, baby."

His movements stilled, a good few seconds passed. His arms slowly rose to get a grip on the barricade. As soon as he established the anchor, he pulled himself from the floor, slowly turning to look into my dark corner again. "Dream, it's me, please, c'mere." I pleaded, hope filling my eyes that even after three entire months of mental and physical torture, he would trust me. I reached my arms through the gaps, reaching for him as he came into grasping distance. He stood an inch from my extending fingers, almost gazing down at them tauntingly. He hadn't looked me in the eye yet, keeping his focus completely trained on my hands.

Slowly, he lifted his eyes from my begging hands and looked up at me. "It's you."

"Yes! Yes! It's me, baby!" I almost cheered, my face pressing painfully hard against the bars, my entire body bruising at the constant impact.

His face was completely frozen, utter shock coursing through his features as he tried to figure out what was happening. "They did this to me."

"I know baby, I know." I nodded, confirming his words for him. Rationalizing that he was okay to not trust me, knowing his friends had betrayed him ultimately. "Please, let me touch you, I need to touch you."

He fell to his knees, ushering his arms through the barms to hug me through them. he held my body tightly as his body silently shook with sobs. "They did this to me." I hummed into his ear in response, knowing how lonely he must've felt, how worthless and discouraged. I felt my hands get coated in his blood as I clung to him tightly, crying together in utter misery. "I just wanted to keep it all safe."

I spoke carefully, my voice barely over a whisper, "What do you mean, Dream?" I rested my forehead against the same cross he did, the gaps between the bars barely not big enough to fit my entire head through. They were just there for decoration, really, the thousands of blocks of obsidian and the torture was what really kept him in place.

I watched him sniffle softly, his eyes squeezed closed almost painfully so, the raspy sounds that left his torn throat were a mere ghost of his normally smooth and silky voice. "I just wanted to keep it all safe," A shuddered breath interrupted him. I was clinging to his words, desperately wanting to hear what no one else had dared explain to me; why he was here. "I just wanted to make them happy, keep them safe." He gripped my shirt as he pulled me closer into his body, the warmth I radiated probably being the first source of heat he'd felt in months, besides from the occasional glow of obsidian. "The things they cared about, keep them safe."

A shaky sob left my lips as I let his words sink into my brain, only now realizing what he had done. His trembling voice made the hairs on my neck stand up, goosebumps appearing on my arms.

"All I wanted was to keep them safe and happy," He paused as a sob left his lips again. "One big happy family."

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remmushound · 3 years

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Mud Dogz Rising, chapter 1: Leonard

@scentedcandlecryptid

Content warning: Death, meat, blood, violence, child violence

The day started off as any other day. First came the lights, blindingly bright and enough to wake any creature no matter how deep in slumber. Then came the echo of the daily ration crashing down the metal chutes and into each cell in equal portions. In one of the chambers slept a groggy ogre who, upon the lights turning on, curled her lips into a low growl and tried to block out the worst of the brightness. From the warmth of her bosom another far smaller ogre had a similar reaction, whining and pressing himself tighter into the warmth of his mothers body. The resistance wasn’t kept for very long, however, before the tiny ogre cub raised his nose to the air to breathe in the delicious smell of meat.

From the safety of his mother, Leonard crawled over to the pile of meat slopped carelessly on the ground, a small puddle of blood pooling around the raw flesh; to the young ogre, it was like pure honey nectar. He brought his muzzle to snuffle at the puddle before lapping at it. The warmth of the meal made him eager to eat more of it— maybe a little too eager, as he fell face-first into the pile and sank deep into it. In alarm he squeaked his panic, which made his mother finally open her eyes to see what was bothering her son, and then she rolled her eyes at his predicament.

She took her sweet time waking up, stretching and popping all the sore joints in her body on her way over. She scooped up her son around his belly and pulled him out with an effortless tug, rumbling at the sight of the cub more red than green. She sat on the floor with him on her lap and began to rasp a long, spined tongue across his face and bowl-cut hair.

“Leonard, you have to be more careful.” His mother gave a sharp nip to his ear.

Leonard wiggled himself free so he could climb up to his mother’s broad shoulder and tug at her ear with all the ferocity of a lion cub; his mother ignored the attempts at savagery as she started to dig into the daily offerings. Eventually Leonard fell off of his mother and tumbled to the cold stone with a grunt, splooting for a moment before shaking his head and finding his footing. A drifting feather caught his attention and he fell to all fours to follow it in a clumsy stalk, jumping up to bat at the stimulation and catch it in two tiny hands. He fell to happily chewing on the feather, tiny fangs clacking as he worked to devour his caught prey. It didn't taste very good, so he tried to spit it out; it stuck to his tongue like glue no matter how he gagged.

His struggle eventually led him to flopping down to sit, his hands propping him up as he faced the enclosure beside his— the cage that the feather had come from. The nice yokai in the other cell was still sleeping, which confused Leonard because, if the nice yokai was still sleeping then how could they have given him a feather? They had done it before, but they were always awake when they did! The cub frowned and crawled over slowly on all fours, sticking his nose between the bars so he was just close enough for the feathers of the Yokai to tickle his nose. They smelled weird…

He felt a powerful hand come carefully to cup his back and looked up to see his mother standing over him, her tongue swiping over her lips to catch falling juices while her eyes held a gentle softness in them. She knew that scent, that dark, rotting stink of death, but Leonard didn't, and he didn't understand why his friend was still asleep when it was wake-up time.

“Come on Lenny. Come eat while it’s still warm.” She left him after that to return to the meat pile.

Leonard lingered, his eyes still locked on his feather friend. Then he felt a sharp pull on his neck that made him cry out in genuine pain, cold metal digging into his throat and tugging him off of his feet. He was yanked out of the cell faster than his mother could clear the distance to get to him, the door closed before she reached him and causing her to slam head-first into the metal. Leonard didn't know what was happening; all he knew was that he was forced into a tiny cage where he could barely move around, and he was being pulled away from his mother as she called out for him, but the one that had snatched him didn't care about her cries or his. Leonard screamed. He screamed and cried and wailed until his voice was nothing more than a horse whisper and his body didn't let him cry anymore. He was hungry now, with no milk and no meat, and to make matters worse the Taker had tossed a sheet over his cage so he couldn’t see a thing!

Leonard didn't know how long he was in that cage too small to move around in, but it was enough time to make his stomach hurt without a meal to fill it. To pass the time and try to lessen the hunger, he eventually went to sleep, only to wake when the cage was lifted and started to move with a terrifying loud trembling as he was wheeled across tile. Then he was lifted again and taken into someplace loud, very loud, and so bright that even the sheet did little to stop the light. It smelled bad here too, just like his nice friend had smelled.

The sheet was ripped from the cage to let brightness flood in with a roar of applause. Leonard didn't know what applase was, but it was loud and it was all around him and there was nowhere to go but in circles. A gloved hand grabbed him around the scruff of his neck and some part of him made him so limp because the only one who would have been carrying him like that was his mother, but this didn't smell like his mother! And the touch wasn’t gentle like his mother either.

A heavy collar was strapped around his neck, enough weight to make him collapse to the ground unable to move from the pressure. Beyond the bright spotlights he could see nothing; nothing but cheering silhouettes surrounding him on high-raised seats. On the opposite side of this large, dusty place where he was chained, he saw a door open, and through that door a massive silhouette slowly lumbering out into the space. An ogre? Leonardo strained his senses to be able to smell anything beyond the sand burning his nose. This ogre wasn’t his mother; it was a male, like him, only bigger. A lot bigger.

“Yokai of all kinds!” The woman’s voice seemed to be all around him, incredibly jovial and bubbly, “The games shall begin shortly. First in the ring is the lovely Dre The Destroyer! And that lovely little cub you see there belongs to Fearsome Felis, who will be joining us shortly. I know you have your choice of arenas, so I thank you for choosing the Battle Nexus!”

The big, lumbering ogre was nearly upon him now and Leonard could see him more clearly now; dark olive skin decorated with scars, powerful tusks jutting from his mouth and a ridging horn across his shaven head with several peaks. Leonard gulped at the pure size of him, and the rottenness of his hot breath as the ogre bull brought his face down even to Leonard’s, lips curled in a grin. Leonard covered his head with his hands and started to quiver.

“M...mama! Mama…”

There was a roar, and a collision Leonard didn't witness. When he opened his eyes he saw another ogre in the ring, an ogre very familiar to him! His mother was smaller than the other ogre, but that small fact didn't stop her from engaging in the battle tooth and nail with everything she had. Tusks slamming together, claws ripping at each others flesh, bodies pounding into each other!

While the savage sounds of the fight raged on, that sickly sweet voice just kept going, “Now, Fearsome Felis will be well-known to some of our more frequent fliers, but to all those new to the games, she is one of our prized ogre and has been in the ring her whole life! Today just so happens to mark her five hundredth round in the arena and, should luck be on her side, this will be the three hundred and eighteenth win of her career! We find that our fighters fight hardest when certain… motivation is put in place. The instinct to protect the offspring makes her fight thrice as hard!”

Leonard didn't like it. He didn't like the fighting and the growling and the roars and the blood— the yells of his mother as she was hurt and the rebuking injuries she inflicted. He didn't know how long the battle went on, but eventually his mother had come out the victor, the male laying defeated and bleeding in the dust, and she made her way back to her son while the crowd roared her name.

“It appears that our lovely Felis is the winner! Remember folks, this is only the first of several rounds we’ll be featuring tonight, so please take the time during this brief interval to indulge in the many confectionery stands scattered about the grounds. We will resume the games in ten minutes.”

“Mama…” Leonard whined, grabbing desperately at the air when his mother got close. She was staring down at him with eyes that seemed almost cold, and they made Leonard even more scared. “Mama…?”

Felis snarled at the cub, and she lunged at him with no mercy in her eyes. Her jaws latched around Leonard’s neck in a crushing pressure. Those still in their seats gave loud gasps and some of them even screamed, and pretty soon all of them were screaming but Felis didn't care. She crushed the cub's body between her teeth until he went limp, and then she ever so casually carried him to the center of the arena and dropped him on top of the first body.

Licking blood from her muzzle, she looked around at the stunned crowd and said, “There. You can’t use him against me anymore.”

~~~

All casualties of the Battle Nexus Arena ended up in the same spot; the barge just outside the colosseum, where aquatic yokai thrived and would make quick work of the bodies once they were dumped. When closing came and it was time to dispose of the day's destruction, a swarm was waiting at the chute for the fresh kill. The bodies were dumped, and the yokai all fought over the rights to the best pickings of the day.

One small, brave mermaid took a tentative taste of an ogre cub by nipping his ear and ripping a small part of it off. With the pain of the injury, the cub’s eyes shot open and he tried to give a pained yowl, but all that resulted were bubbles that made the skittish swarm scatter. The ogre looked all around and then, propelled by instinct, kicked up toward the surface.

When he felt cold air on his face the first thing he did was breathe to sooth his burning lungs. Then he went back under, but not of his own free will. On the small glance he got of the world above he had seen a shore and so that was where he struggled to. Eventually, his feet met soft earth and he was able to crawl out of the water completely and collapse on the muddy shore.

#Leonard’s story #mud dogs #mud dogz #rottmnt mud dogs

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chilling-seavey · 3 years

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Anything But Mine - Penelope’s Meltdowns

A/N Penelope is quite a complex character and there’s a lot that even Florence and Daniel had to discover about her as she grew up; her sudden meltdowns being one of them.

Saturday, December 2, 2023

The mall was busy with Christmas shoppers, bustling through the stores and wide hallways decked out in tinsel and garlands and the speakers playing light Christmas music. It was a Saturday afternoon so was it was busier than normal, not to mention the additional chaos of the Christmas season. Regardless of the crowds, the mall was always so nicely decorated for the holidays, down to the four-storey tall tree that was absolutely covered in twinkling lights. The girls always loved the Christmas lights and Florence and Clementine stood at the side of the railing overlooking the huge tree.

Usually, Penelope would be right up there with them but she had been in a bit of a mood all day, refusing to wear her coat and then crying the whole time to the mall after they forced her in it. So she stood holding Daniel’s hand with tear-stained cheeks as he held her coat and they watched Florence and Clementine admire the decorations a few steps away.

They had spent a good bit of the afternoon in the mall, picking up their last few gifts for the family in good time before the mad rush would start closer to the holidays. Penelope refused to be more than an arm length away from Daniel the whole time, making him carry her until his arms were nearly ready to give out and when he set her down she wouldn’t leave him alone until he picked her back up again. Her crying was constant and she was clingy and it was putting sort of a damper on their little trip.

They had planned to go home for dinner when they finished shopping since they had just bought groceries not long before but as they made their way to the exit, Daniel suggested finding a restaurant as a treat. Clementine gladly agreed, jumping off the top of the escalator with a thud from her pink winter boots, her hand still held tightly by Florence as they made it to the foyer of the mall nearest the main downtown intersection. Daniel set Penelope back on her feet with a tired sigh as they reached the top of the escalator and she whimpered right away and reached back up for him.

“I’ve been carrying you all day, bug. You’re gonna have to walk for a bit.” he said, taking her hand without another word.

“So we’ll go to a restaurant instead then.” Florence confirmed, stopping by the wall out of the way of the crowds to slip Clementine’s coat back on her and zipped it up.

“I wanna go home.” Penelope pouted softly.

“We’re going out for a treat instead.” Daniel said with a small smile, crouching down in front of her to put her coat on.

“No.” Penelope turned away from him at the sight of her winter jacket and leaned into the wall.

“Come on, bug. It won’t be on for long.” Daniel grabbed her arm gently and turned her to face him again, trying to wiggle her arm in the sleeve.

“No!” Penelope cried, fresh tears welling in her eyes. “Go home now!”

“Even if we go home you need to wear your coat.” Florence said.

“I don’t wanna go home yet!” Clementine protested, looking between her parents, her voice loud over the music playing through the mall speakers.

“I know.” Florence assured her softly.

Daniel reached for Penelope again, finally managing to wiggle her into her coat despite her blubbery sobs and small cries in protest. He zipped it up and buttoned it up so she was basically locked in there and then he stood again to turn to his wife with a tired sigh.

“Can you manage a dinner out?” Florence asked him quietly.

“Yeah. Might trade kids with you though.” Daniel whispered.

“That’s fine.” Florence nodded, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

To anyone else, the situation was generally calm. To Penelope, it felt like the end of the world. The sudden change in plans of going out to eat instead of home was one thing but then there was also the Christmas music that had been playing loudly all day – a lot of the songs repeating enough to drive anyone mad really – right with the noise of the crowds and the traffic now that was honking loudly from just outside the glass doors a few metres away. The lights from the city square were flashing brightly and all the noises were overlapping from inside and outside and the contrast between the loud talking of the crowd and her parents’ soft whispers made her skin crawl and her coat itched her neck like crazy and Penelope just…lost it.

She threw herself on the dirty floor of the mall with a loud scream, making a few passersby look over as well as her parents and sister as she flopped backwards onto the floor and clawed at her coat as she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Oh my God.” Daniel crouched in front of her, grabbing her arm to get her up. “Penelope, stop it. We don’t act like this when we’re upset.”

That only made her cry louder, flailing on the floor as she tried to kick him away, clawing at her coat until a few of the buttons popped open.

“You are not taking your coat off.” Daniel said sternly, trying to ignore the stares of strangers as they passed and he tried to button them back up.

The three-year-old only screamed, hot tears pouring down her cheeks through wracking sobs, tugging at her coat until it looked like she was going to claw right through the fabric.

“Penelope. Stop it.” Daniel grabbed her arm to try and pull her to her feet but she flailed harder, shoving his hands away and kicking at his chest. “Penelope Magnolia! No kicking. Stand up like a big girl.”

She only cried louder, her pouted lips shining in spit with how dramatic her meltdown was as her screams echoed through the mall. Daniel was trying to stand her up but she kept making herself go limp in his arms to flop back on the floor.

“Just take it off her. It’s not worth it right now.” Florence whispered shakily to her husband as Clementine hid behind her leg.

Daniel sighed in frustration at his daughter throwing a fit in the middle of the mall, carefully reaching to start to unbutton her coat and unzip it, offering her a shaky, “Okay, okay, it’s coming off.”

Penelope visibly took a deep shaky inhale once the coat was off as if having it on was physically restricting but she still screamed, rolling over onto her stomach and curled up in a ball with her hands over her ears. Every time Daniel went to touch her she screamed louder and he looked up at his wife helplessly.

“What the hell do I do?” he breathed.

Florence directed Clementine to sit a bit of a ways away with their bags, still within arms reach but giving them and their emotional youngest some space. Florence crouched down with him on the floor, setting a hand on Penelope’s back,

“Penny, baby, it’s Mommy.” she spoke softly. “What’s wrong?”

Penelope just kept crying, hands clamped over her ears and she shrieked against the tile floors. Daniel sat back a moment and ran his hands over his face with a stressed sigh, glancing around at the onlookers that passed by staring like they were a storefront window or street performers.

“Oh my God, Dani, what do we do?” Florence breathed.

“I-I don’t know.” Daniel stammered, feeling completely hopeless as their three-year-old was having a full meltdown, feeling near tears himself.

“Should we just take her home like this?”

“Yeah.” Daniel sighed, standing up so he could bend down to pick up the three-year-old who screamed louder in his arms, earning more stares from strangers in the mall. He tucked her coat around her shoulders despite her wiggling to try and get it away from her as Florence took Clementine by the hand and gathered their bags.

Penelope screamed the whole way into the parking garage, wiggling enough that it was almost a struggle for Daniel to hold her, her hands digging her nails into his shoulder only making it more difficult for him. Florence unlocked the car and opened the back door for him and he got Penelope in her car seat, the toddler shrieking at the top of her lungs as he put her down and started to buckle her up.

Clementine was gaping over at her sister as Florence buckled her into her own car seat on the other side, confused as to what the heck was going on. It wasn’t unusual for Penelope to cry or scream when she was upset but this seemingly sudden outburst…this meltdown was completely out of left field. She cried and screamed and tried to get out of her seatbelt and smacked her hand against the window almost the whole way home, the rest of their small family sitting in tense silence. She tired herself out by the time they got to their building, wailing herself into a sleep stemmed from exhaustion.

Daniel carried her upstairs, Florence and Clementine following quietly after with their bags, taking the elevator silently together. Penelope was completely clocked out on Daniel’s shoulder, red cheeks stained in tears squished against his shoulder and her arms hanging limply around his neck. No one spoke as he carried her into the apartment and right to her room, carefully and silently undressing her and putting her into her pyjamas. It was a miracle she didn’t wake up. He stayed in her room a moment longer after he tucked her into bed, sitting at the side of her bed and watched her sleep, biting anxiously on his fingernail. Something wasn’t right with his little girl and it nearly broke his heart to think of what could be going on in that sweet little head of hers.

Saturday, November 28, 2026

After a few years of doctors appointments and specialists and finally a diagnosis, Penelope’s meltdowns and seemingly constant discomfort had a name to it. Daniel and Florence went out of their way to buy every single possible book or article on autism in girls to figure out how to make life easier for their second daughter and especially for themselves too. So, by the time three years had passed and they found themselves in a similar situation during Christmas shopping, they had a much better understanding on how to handle it.

The coat was no longer an issue since Penelope was old enough to choose her own winter coat and what she felt comfortable in but it was again, the full day of a crowded mall and overlapping noises and sensory overload to the max. She was still young at only six so she had yet to understand what she was even feeling when she felt it but the second she ripped her hand out of Daniel’s, the parents knew what was coming.

They were in the middle of the crowded hallway, like right in the middle of the crowd, when Penelope dropped to the floor with a strained sob.

The crowd moved around her, staring at her as she broke into loud tears, nearly screaming as she curled up on the dirty floor. Florence and Daniel exchanged knowing glances, having a plan already in the back of their minds from late night practice over medical articles. So Florence passed Daniel the favourite stuffed puppy she had tucked in her purse before she took Clementine and Lucy down one of the side hallways and out of the crowd as Daniel crouched down beside Penelope.

“Hey, honey. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Daniel said softly, tucking the puppy in her arms. “Puppy’s right here too.”

Penelope only cried harder, curling into herself on the floor. Her screams nearly echoed through the mall, earning dozens of stares from strangers but Daniel kept his eyes on his daughter, even as she kicked at him.

“Okay, bug, Daddy’s gonna take you somewhere quiet, okay?” Daniel carefully scooped her up, making sure she wasn’t thrashing too hard because he didn’t want to scare her but he managed to carry her slowly out of the crowd and down the side aisle after Florence and the other two girls.

Penelope’s wails echoed more in the emptiness and he slid down to the floor against the wall with the six-year-old on his lap. He set a hand over her opposite ear and pulled her head against his chest to block out any noise for her and then stayed absolutely still. No loving back rubs or soft hums that he was so familiar with doing as those would just trigger her more. Just silence.

Florence sat with Clementine and Lucy only a couple feet away, watching him nervously as Penelope still cried in his arms. Daniel held her snugly, the slightly weighted stuffed puppy resting on her lap and the secure hold of his arms around her already started to calm her crying a little. When her wails turned into soft cries, Daniel and Florence exchanged wide eyed glances from where they sat apart, watching their daughter start to calm herself down.

Penelope soon quieted down into soft sniffles and she picked up her puppy to cuddle into her chest. Daniel carefully took his hand from over her ear, running his thumb softly over her cheek before tucking his arm around her.

“There you go.” Daniel whispered, kissing her head as he held her against his chest. “Daddy’s got you. You’re okay.”

Penelope, now embarrassed as she was coming down from her uncontrollable meltdown, shifted to wrap her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck. Daniel tucked her legs around his waist and held her close, looking over at Florence again with a small sigh.

“How about we go get some ice cream?” Florence suggested. Clementine and Lucy cheered with agreement and Penelope lifted her head up long enough to share a cheeky smile with Daniel.

“Yeah! Let’s go get you a big scoop of chocolate ice cream, okay?” he smiled at her, pressing a sweet kiss to her tear stained cheek.

#this ones been in drafts for MONTHS #so here lol #daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey imagines #daniel seavey fanfic

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baby-grayson · 4 years

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Kind Stranger|GBD|Part 13

Parts 1-12 Word Count: 3,000 Tag list: @not-gbd @styles-dolan @evergreendolan @someonetogray @vintagedolan @prettyboydolan @dolansficsandpics @graysavant @baby-turtles

A/N: Next part will be the “finale” and part 15 will be the epilogue to the series (omg we made it guys)

Summary: Grayson decides to confront Kate about their situation but is interrupted by her unlucky morning.

Grayson grew tireless of waiting for Ethan to wake up. He sat in an armchair in their rental home and tapped his foot against the floor. He looked down at his phone, noting that a whole ten minutes had passed since he last checked.

“C’mon E,” Grayson groaned under breath. He liked his lips. He gazed to the side; his eyes found a bowl of fruit on his island counter. He couldn’t eat. His internal organs felt like they were being slowly twisted around a spool. He couldn’t even think about eating.

He rubbed his eyes, which stung from his lack of sleep. If he wanted to lie to himself, Grayson would say he got about two hours of sleep last night. But Grayson was an honest man who knew he had barely closed his eyes last night.

Every time he closed his eyes, she was there. When he rested his eyelids, he was faced with visons of luscious dark hair, pink pouty lips, and wide brown eyes speckled with gold trails. When he tried to shake those mental images, his body would enchant his mind with a faint sweet, citrus scent; a silvery, velvet voice; and the feeling of iridescent, silky skin. When his body and mind worked together to torture him, he could almost feel the parting of two plush, perfect lips finding their way to his. Grayson exhaled in a rough tone. He bit down on his bottom lip, causing the blister that had formed in the night before to release a drop of blood.

Grayson had been living in this cycle since late last night. His entire being would become consumed by the idea of Kate, and the thoughts would only fade into the pain of slamming his incisor onto the corner of his bottom lip. His mental mutiny did not reserve much room for him to develop actual thoughts about what he wanted to say to her. In truth, he had barely decided about what he wanted to do.

Grayson’s eyes dug holes into Ethan’s bedroom door. His foot tapped furiously against the ground. As much as Grayson dearly loved Ethan’s girlfriend, he sat there and wished Ethan hadn’t been on Facetime until 1AM last night.

Grayson hadn’t looked in a mirror that morning. If he did, he would have been faced with the blood shot eyes, swollen mouth, and stubble that greeted Ethan when he slumped out of his room for his morning pee. Ethan’s door opened with a low rasping sound coming from its hinges. Grayson’s head immediately bounced up at the sign of his brother. Ethan furrowed his bro, confused as to why his brother’s face looked so worn, and why Grayson’s posture looked like he was both a man ready to cry and a man ready to start a fight.

Ethan opened his mouth to comment but was quickly interrupted by Gray, “—Were you going to see Kate today?” Ethan blinked a few times, the question ricocheted off him like his mind was made of rubber. He met his tongue to the top of his mouth a few times, eyes still glazed with sleep.

Grayson became louder, more forceful, “Were you going to see Kate today?” He enunciated each letter in perfect form.

Ethan shook his, caught completely off guard. “Um no—wait actually yeah,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I was going stop by at like 3 maybe and drop off some groceries—” Grayson interrupted for the second time that morning, “But she’s not going anywhere right? Not the doctor again?”

Ethan fixed his posture, wondering why his brother was interrogating him so early in the morning, “No not for another two weeks I think—” “Thanks” Grayson did not waste time rushing to his Porsche and backing out of their driveway.

Kate grunted from her position on the floor. The tiles felt painfully cold against her wet skin. She whined audibly as her body ached underneath her. Her stitches pulled at her flesh, creating an anguish at the end of the dead weight that was her left leg.

She tossed a handful of soaking wet hair over her shoulder. Her breath became hastier as she reached her arms behind her and tried to lift herself off the tile floor with all her mind. Her voice transformed into an indiscernible amalgamation of strained wails. Just as her elbows opened slightly, her fingers collapsed under her tense wrists and her body was launched back into her original position.

She stopped struggling for a moment. She inhaled a few deep breaths and closed her eyes. With a layer of anxiety washing away from her tense being, she collected her thoughts. Her phone? It was in her purse, which was in her bedroom, which was through the bathroom door—no good. Knocking on the wall she shared with her next-door neighbor? They were never home— it wouldn’t be any use. Yelling for help? She was in the inside of her apartment, which was four stories off of the ground in an apartment complex—she would need to scream very loud for anyone to notice.

She was stuck. Kate had fallen from her shower stool, which she used to prop herself up and her post-op foot on the side of the tub. She landed in a naked ball on her bathroom floor, legs in the hair and head in the corner between the wall and tub.

Kate felt helpless; an emotion that grew like a malignant tumor in an independent woman like her.

Her mind began to spiral into terrible scenarios of distress. Her heart pounded in her chest, making sounds that mimicking Big Ben striking midnight over London on a mid-world war 2 night.

She yelped in shock. There was a knock at her front door. At first, she gaped in anxiety. After a few breaths and a second knock, her mind reminded her that a person at her front door would offer her refuge from her current predicament. “Ethan! Is that you!” she hoped she was screaming loud enough for him to hear her all the way from the bathroom.

Grayson could have identified Kate’s voice in a crowd of one million people. He was so anxious that his brain didn’t process how faint her voice sounded from behind her front door. “No,” his voice was gruff, “It’s Gray—” his voice faltered, “Grayson. Can I come in?”

Kate exhaled. She swore that she had pissed off some higher deity, who chose to give her one of the worst mornings of her life. How else would she end up naked, soaking wet, in a helpless mess on her bathroom floor with her gorgeous ex-boyfriend standing outside her front door? “Now’s not the best time!” Grayson huffed. She was okay with Ethan but not with him. He groaned and ran his hands through his hair, stopping to pull at the strands in the front. His jaw tensed up before he knocked on the door, with more conviction this time. “Please! I really need to talk to you!” His voice was hoarse and husky, fraught with masculine energy and scattered emotions.

“shit,” Kate mumbled under her breath. She loved that Grayson was persistent and dedicated but asked herself why he couldn’t take a hint. She wondered what she could say that wouldn’t hurt his feelings, when her shower curtain fell from the rod and hit the bathroom floor with a clatter. In her tension, she hadn’t realized that her good leg had been wound around the edge of the curtain in her fall, and that the stress on the material slipped it from the hooks in a swift motion.

Grayson’s brow furrowed as he heard the snapping sounds from the other side of her front door. He knocked again, more dubiously this time, “Everything alright in there?”Kate took too long to answer. Grayson started again, “Do you need any help?” Kate closed her eyes and leaned the back of her head against the corner of her wall and tub. She recognized the irony of his question: it was the same question she asked him the day they met on the beach when he hurt himself.

Kate picked her head and scanned her surroundings. She noted the shower curtain that was strewn over the floor and toilet. She wiggled her toes from where her feet hung in the air. She eyed the pool of water in the middle of the bathroom. She sighed. She reached as far as she could with her left arm. The tips of her fingers touched the shower curtain, she grabbed it quickly and tried to cover herself as best she could in her position.

She looked down and wondered if it was worth bringing her complex emotions toward Grayson into this mess. She decided she had no choice, “There’s a spare key taped to the bottom of the mail slot!” Grayson ran a single, large finger across the bottom edge of her mailbox. He reached the bulge of a small, metal object secured by a piece of masking tape. He ripped it off quickly and harshly inserted it into her front door. He tried to focus on turning the lock, silently asking that the alarming thoughts in his head to leave.

He shoved the door open the second that the lock clicked. He stepped through the threshold and looked around. Her apartment looked the same way it had when he had last been here: when he made the idiot mistake of asking her to keep their relationship private from her own mother. Grayson had left the apartment with the deflated spirit of a freshly broken heart; that morning, he was returning with the invigoration of a man trying to help the woman he loved. He looked around, not seeing her. “Kate?” he asked, he was terrified of not hearing an answer.

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding when she replied, “I’m in the bathroom!”. Her high-pitched voice sounded exhausted, and her voices left her lips with a twinge of fear.

Grayson’s long legs bounded him in extensive strides as he reached her bathroom door. He took in a breath. His hand was almost dainty when it rapped on the door, “Can I come in?” His voice wavered no less than three times as he asked.

“Yeah” she sounded drained.

Grayson pushed the door open. His eyes went wide when he didn’t see her at first. He felt like his mind was playing a trick on him. It wasn’t until he peered down at the bright blue shower curtain on the floor that he found her. She looked like a broken doll. Her hair dripped onto the bathmat beneath her, her skin was dewy from her shower, but her limbs were contorted. Her post-op foot was swinging in the air, above all her other limbs. Her shower curtain didn’t do much to veil her naked curves.

Grayson swallowed: confused and aghast at the scene in front of him. His cheeks faded into a light shade of pink. His breaths became shaky as he failed to find words.

“Can you help me up?” her voice sounded so small to him.

Grayson nodded; his mouth went dry when he tried to respond audibly. He took in a loud breath and kneeled. Kate held out her arms, like a small child asking for a hug, but Grayson did not take them. Instead, he placed one arm firmly under the small of her back and the other one under her knee. He scooped her from the floor and stood up. Kate’s arms latched around his neck as he delicately walked her out of the bathroom, into her bedroom, and laid her on her bed.

Grayson licked his lips before biting down on his blister again. He felt the top of her ass against one of his arms. The feeling of having her so close to his being flooded his treacherous mind with memories of waking up next to her. His nostrils nearly seized at the attack of her sweet, citrus scent. His mouth went dry. When she wrapped her arms around his neck, his heart started shaking.

Kate set her head back on a pillow and closed her eyes. She exhaled, grateful to be from the floor but anxious to now interact with Grayson in front of her. When she opened her eyes, found Grayson at her closet. “What are you doing?” her tone sounded more accusatory and less appreciative than she would have wanted.

“Getting you something to wear,” Grayson was grateful for any distraction that peeled his eyes from his naked ex-girlfriend. Well, naked except for a shower curtain. Grayson’s heart heaved at the sight of the t-shirt he had left here their first night. He remembered walking to his car shirtless, not wanting to lose the precious sight of her wrapped up in his clothes. His emotions got the better of him as he picked up the shirt and tossed it at the end of her bed, “Here you go.” “Thanks,” Kate mumbled. If Grayson had been looking at her, he would have seen the tension hit her face when she realized what shirt he had offered her. Trying to be polite, Grayson had found a place to stand in front of the window while she put on some clothes. “Why were you in a shower curtain anyway?” Grayson’s voice was lower than usual, trying to disguise the myriad of emotions dancing in his head. “Modesty,” Kate stuck her head through the hole of the shirt, “I didn’t want you to see me naked.” She patted the fabric down, “You can turn around now.” Grayson raised an eyebrow in a way that questioned her desire for modest, even though he just gave her that without asking. “Silly, I know,” Kate commented before laying back on the bed. She closed her eyes, as if she was trying to reset the moment, they were in.

Grayson’s eyes searched the scene in front of him. A part of him melted at this scene: the woman he loved, dressed in his shirt, with her wet hair laying across her pillow, her angelic face in a peaceful state. Another part of him wanted to run away, to forever avoid the feelings that she stirred in him. She catalyzed such an emotional reaction in him: it was nearly dangerous with how fiercely his body responded for her.

If Kate was aware of Grayson’s internal struggle, she didn’t show it. She was calm, or at least calm compared to the scared, helpless mess of a person she had been a few minutes earlier. She picked her head up from the pillow, opening her eyes and meeting Grayson’s gaze, “Thanks for that, I really appreciate it.” Her voice was soft and sincere.

“No problem,” Grayson’s mouth fell in a flat line, “Just being a kind stranger.”

Kate laughed. She didn’t think before her mouth let out a sound, triggering a proud smirk on Grayson’s face. He loved her laugh; it was sweet and right; just like everything else about her. Every time he saw her smile, it was like the first time. Her eyes held solace for him, a kind and peaceful place to escape to when the terrors of LA contorted his heart. He looked at her and saw a guilty pleasure: his own personal paradise in a harsh, cruel world.

She ignited his most romantic fantasies. He wanted to dance around her kitchen on a Sunday morning, making pancakes and decorating each other in kisses. He wanted to be washed over by nerves as he carried her engagement ring in his pocket, frantically planning how to ask for her forever. He wanted to know what she would look like pregnant with their first child, was it possible for her to be even more beautiful than she was now?

Sitting on her bed in front of him, Grayson couldn’t take his eyes off him. There was something so inherently feminine about her; sure, she was a girl, but she was more. Her lips were perfectly blossomed. Her eyes were kind and sure. Her body was like a flower, curved and edged in a way that asked the question how that kind of natural beauty was possible.

And yet, there was something fragile about her. There was something like a newborn baby. She was untouched by the evils of his world: one where people would gladly tear him down to build themselves up. She was physically delicate, as he had just experienced by finding her on the bathroom floor unable to get up. Grayson’s heart wanted so badly to protect her from world with all his being.

And even so, there was a toughness about her. She was strong: she could handle any emotional situation a thousand times better than Grayson could. She was brave: facing a new life in LA with no support but never complaining. She was courageous: never fearing to speak her mind, no matter the audience. Grayson wanted to be like her, as much as he wanted to be with her.

Standing in her bedroom, faced with all these realities, Grayson’s mouth went dry. His eyes found the floor. His blood pumped into his brain with too much vigor. The blister in his mouth spasmed in pain. He swallowed with a heavy tongue. His eyes looked back at her, meeting her gaze. He recognized the concern in her eyes. His chest rose and fell quickly. “No- “Grayson started, realizing that he was almost dizzy, “I can’t do this.” His legs used wide strides to fly him out of her apartment while she called out after him. The outside air felt cold on his skin as he closed the front door, making him realize he was sweating profusely. Kate had just grabbed her crutches and hopped across her apartment to look down from her porch, hear Grayson’s car door close, and watch him zip away into the LA traffic.

#grayson dolan #grayson dolan x oc #dolan twins #fanfic #story #youtuber #ethan #ethan dolan #grayson

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scary-lasagna · 4 years

Text

Trust || Part VI

" Finally meeting the eyes of your soon-to-be murderer, you realized he was crying again. Fuck him, he deserves to cry, wail, scream, after what he's done to you.

You can't rip a flower out of the ground and expect it to grow in acid.

With a final reassuring squeeze, Hoodie let go."

Yandere!Hoodie/Brian x Reader

* * *

A month later and things haven't gotten any better than when you first arrived. Hoodie just keeps growing more violent and possessive my the minute. You really don't know how much longer you'll survive here from either dying from Hoodie's leather-gloved hand or by your own.

Hoodie leaves on most nights, which would be delightful in planning a route of escape. But it's hard to do so when you're locked in the windowless bedroom.

All you're left to do for the night is look at your picture of your previous life, contemplate your situation, plan his murder, and scan over a few books Hoodie found for you.

This could all change if you only said, "I love you." To him.

Which you weren't, but you were thankful to know that's an option in case you were nearing death by his hand.

It was late night, and thunder rumbled over the depths of the cellar. It must be going to rain soon. Hoodie was still gone, he didn't know when he'd be back. But you know he'll get caught in the rain if he doesn't get home before morning.

And you'll be charged with the task of drying his hair.

You rolled your eyes, tossing the magazine down and pushing yourself off of the bed. Hoodie got you a more qualified mattress to sleep on, along with a bedspread and blankets that kept the damp air off of you. But sometimes you just needed an open window or a fan.

Neither of which Hoodie has provided. A window means a chance of escape, not that he could just give you one anyways, it was a brick-lined basement. And a fan deems a possible weapon to hit him over the head with.

Oh, how you longed to do that. Even if he killed you, it would be so satisfying to watch him stumble with a yelp, clutching the back of his dirty blonde locks.

You shuffled around your room, sifting through drawers and pulling out wrapped clothing. You've been working on making a shank out of a shard of tile you found in the kitchen, and literally anything else you could find. You've only got a rubber band and a few pieces of tape to hold the fabric around the ceramic. It's not much, but it's your only form of protection.

But your plan to craft was cut short by the cellar door rattling. You stuffed the tile inside a few socks before shoving the drawer closed.

"Hoodie?" You called out, pushing yourself off of the ground to stand in front of your door.

"What? You hungry? You're supposed to be sleeping." Footsteps gradually made their way towards the other side of the door, followed by a series of mechanical clicks.

"I'm not tired." You looked up at the mask when the door open, which you cautiously took off. He was sweaty, and very gross in general. "Can't you find a new mask that doesn't suffocate your pores?"

"Yeah, but I like this one though." He gently took it out of our grasp, using the same sense of caution as you used with him.

Hoodie couldn't hold it in anymore. Everytime he left, he was never guaranteed in seeing your face when he returned. You were smart, too smart. You were bound to find the key he hidden in one of the loose bricks of your room. Just in case one day he doesn't return. He wouldn't want you to be left here and starved, even if the masked man did know about the situation.

He struggled to hold back to tears prickling his bottom lid, and he pulled you towards him into the colder hallway. But your skin was soothed by his warm chest.

"I'm so sorry for what I've done. You know I'd never want to hurt you." His muscles twitched along your back when he squeezed tighter.

You couldn't do anything but hug back, running your hand up and down the rough fabric of his hoodie. Even without the view of his face, his jerking chest was proof enough that he was holding back sobs and tears. "Prove it, then." You weren't even sure if he heard your voice through the muffle of his clothes.

"How can I prove my love to you?" He separates your bodies, but kept his large hands on your waist. Tear streaks were travelling down his dirty cheeks.

"Free me." You stared up at him, clutching his forearms. "Please, Hoodie."

He glanced back at the entrance, and for a moment, you had a spark of hope.

"Not now, darling. I'm sorry, really I am." His tone sounded sincere enough, and his eyes were tilted with sadness.

Your face fell and your tense shoulders slumped, "Why?"

He shook his head, his fingers flexing into your skin, "There's too much going on right now. Tim left Jay, and Jay's on his own. And Alex is a good hunter, he'll find you. He's already come around here a few times, actually."

All you heard was a pathetic attempt at an excuse. But in reality, it did make some sense.

"You pinky swear you're not lying?" Your eyebrows twitched as you looked up at him.

He managed a smirk, leaving the cool air to nip at a warm spot on your hip as he held his hand up, "I'd never lie to you."

You linked your pinky with his and it caught you off guard as Hoodie sealed it with a soft kiss on your knuckle.

Trust.

You craved for his lips sometimes, and it was often hard to remind yourself that this is a different person. Would it be cheating on Brian if it's the same body?

What the hell were you talking about? This dude kidnapped you and you're thinking about whether his lips would feel good against yours.

But you were satisfied as he kisses you on the cheek, "Get back to bed, now." He started to coax you back into your room.

"Can't I stay up with you for a bit?"

He squinted, and you could tell he was growing suspicious but nonetheless, he obliged with a, "Sure." Taking you by the hand, he lead you to the kitchen. "I gotta take a shower first, I'm sure you can make something for yourself while I'm gone."

The bathroom door was closed before you could even answer, "I literally just said that I wasn't hungry earlier." You mumbled, glancing around the cute kitchen.

Out of curiosity, you picked up one of the medicine bottles to see what he was taking and if that somehow made him more aggressive.

Tim Wright.

He had Tim's pills. How and why? Did he steal them or did Tim give them to him? Was it the same way he got the picture?

You set the plastic down and walked over to the humming fridge. There wasn't much in it, just a few packs of meat, two jugs of water, miscellaneous in the drawers, and a bag of chips. And that godforsaken tuna.

Why the hell does he keep chips in the fridge?

You took the box of ham and started making two sandwiches with cheese, lettuce, and mayo. You glanced in the direction of the hissing water in the bathroom before chucking the tuna in the trash, tossing some paper towels on top of it to hide the glint of the metal.

The hiss of the shower stopped, and you listened as Hoodie rustled around with some towels.

Oh fuck, he's gonna try and seduce you.

You turned away from the door, busing your self with slowly pouring juice into the glass. Wet footsteps pass the kitchen, and you couldn't help but glance though the window as he made his way to his room.

A guilty part of you wishes that Brian had those type of muscles when you were dating. This dude was really strong just from the look of his back.

He paused at the padlocks glancing over them, and then quickly locked with your eyes. You turned away, spilling the half-full glass all over the counter with a hissed curse.

You tried to look again, but the door was already closed.

You soaked up the juice, piling all of the towels in the trash until the counter was grape-free. Hoodie walked in, hair still wet and in (thankfully) clean clothes.

You accepted his advancements as he wrapped a pair of strong arms around your waist, nuzzling into your hair.

"You smell better than I do, and I've just taken a shower."

"I smell like damp basement and cheap Irish Sring soap, don't lie to me." You picked up a plate and held it out to your left, letting Hoodie take a hold of it as you grabbed your plate and the two drinks.

You could tell how exhausted Hoodie was by the way he flopped down on the couch, almost looing his dinner in the process.

You set your plate and drink on the coffee table, knowing he's going to want half of your sandwich anyways.

The air was calm, and rain had started to tap on the floor above you in the broken building. Hoodie was just chilling, watching the late night news and eating the sandwich you made for him.

It felt nice.

It felt normal.

You leaned your head on his shoulder, hugging his elbow as you cuddled up to him. You were touched starved, you craved affection and contact, and Hoodie was the only one around capable of giving it to you.

He set the plate down on the armrest and wrapped an arm around you, allowing the warmth of his chest to engulf you.

You closed your eyes and even dozed off a little bit until you were stirred by Hoodie running his hands through your tangled hair. You whined, aggravated that you were disturbed from your slumber.

"I love you."

You rolled your closed eyes. You didn't respond, it was obvious you're faking sleep now, but there was really no other option that would end well.

"[Y/N]."

"Hoodie, I don't love you. Not now."

He stood up, quite abruptly, actually, and you almost fell on the floor.

"Then why are you doing this to me?" His muscles flexed under the black t-shirt he was wearing as he scowled down at you. "Don't you realize this is torture?!"

The man sounded desperate, and his elbows were tucked to his waist insecurely. His eyes...they were truly filled with the pain of the truth.

But as he turned to leave, you managed an apology. "Hoodie, I'm sorry." You clasped your hands together, straightening up on the couch.

"You're not sorry." He hissed, twisting back towards you. "You know what you're doing." The blonde squinted at you, searching your body for something, anything, that looked like remorse.

In his blind state of betrayal, he didn't see any.

"I am sorry!" You stood up defensively, clenching your fists by your side. "How dare you say what I don't feel! I was sorry, but now I'm not! You're just an asshole who expects me to fall in love at first sight of you!"

"You did fall in love with me at first sight o-!"

"No, I didn't! I feel in love with Brian Thomas, your ass had to ruin a perfect fucking relationship for your own selfish needs!"

Hoodie stayed silent, he was holding back. His fists were clenched so tight, his knuckles were turning white, and his eyes were full of burning hatred.

"I'm never going to love you, Hoodie. Not truly. Not if you always act like an entitled brat."

"Don't fucking lead me on then." His shoulders slumped and his fingers loosened. "Don't give false hope."

You blinked, watching as he calmed down into sadness, "Hoodie, I didn't want to do that...I want to make you happy, I want you to feel comfortable instead of tense and awkward which gets you on edge. Maybe even a little dangerous.."

He looked up from the ground and into your sympathetic eyes. He stepped forward and grabbed your waist, pulling you towards him.

"Then you will not get rid of me until you love me."

"That wasn't our deal you sai-"

"Said that I'd free you in due time, yes,” He finished for you, “I keep my promises. Just like how I promised to make your life a living hell if you didn't learn to love me. It's a shared deal, sweetheart." His voice was eerily calm.

You didn't reply, you couldn't. You knew if you opened your mouth you would start sobbing for mercy, for freedom. But you knew that wouldn't happen on his account.

"Now, go to your room." He jerked his head into the direction behind him, staring through your eyes instead of into them.

"This will not make me love you." You whispered, looking closer into his eyes. You wished he could see the hurt in your eyes, the hatred.

But he kept his eyes trained on the plate sitting on the coffee table.

You sniffed, shoving past him towards your damp and dark room.

As you jumped into bed, you heard the sound of a plate crashing. Then another one. Right into the television.

You didn't care. You turned over and stared at the wall until sleep consumed your tense nerves.

___

The door to [Y/N]'s room clicked and creaked quietly open. Hoodie stared at them, hoping the metallic sound of the gun didn't wake them.

You could only see the shadow on the wall, and the clicking disturbance of the gun being handled. You couldn't quite see his position, but he might be aiming at you. You don't where else he'd point the gun at.

You dared not to move. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't. You were frozen in fear of the idea of being shot.

The rustling of fabric and shrinking shadow signaled that he put the gun away but was advancing towards you. What if he decided on a knife instead?

Instead, a rough hand brushed your hair out of your face, and placed a soft kiss on your temple.

You know he's not going to let up. You have to plan an escape.

#Trust #hoodie #yandere!Hoodie #yandere #story #creepypasta #creepypasta imagines #Marble hornets #marble hornets x reader #hoody marble hornets #it get spicy next chapter #brian thomas #ok i fixed it #masky #tim WRIGHT #NOT sutton #cmon kitty

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