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whump-tr0pes · 11 months

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Honor Bound 6 - 22

This is a series. Start here, continued from here.

This is a sequel to Honor Bound, Honor Bound 2, Honor Bound 3, Honor Bound 4, Honor Bound 5, and the prequel Vera.

Masterlist

AO3

Contents: awkward post-breakup situations, awkward relationship dynamics in general, past implied noncon, past death of a family member, messy handling of grief, navigation of breakups in poly relationships, nonexplicit discussion of sex, past attempted murder

I have not updated this story in over a year. Thank you so much to everyone who has stuck with it

The leaves crunched on the path under Sam’s feet as they made their way towards the center of town. They tried to focus on the trees that flanked them on either side, their crowns shivering in the slight breeze. They tried to keep their attention on how the crisp air felt on their cheeks, rustling through their hair, pressing against their jacket. They tilted their head back and drew in a deep breath, doing their best not to think.

They tried hard not to think about Isaac and Gavin, who had both looked at Sam – Gavin with uncertainty, and Isaac with naked anger – as they were leaving. They tried not to think about Gray, who had dark circles under their eyes and exhaustion in every line of their face as they tried to hold the shattered fragments of the family together.

And they tried not to think about the cell phone in their back pocket, which Gray had given them for the walk into town.

Sam hadn’t wanted to let themself hope for a response when they’d sent the message earlier today:

Hey, it’s Sam. Did Edrissa still want to chat?

They had tried to tell themself not to expect a response, at least, not for a couple days – not until she could come up with some kind of excuse for why she couldn’t see them. It had been her to reach out first, but Sam had felt a nagging anxiety, a nauseous thrum in their stomach telling them that she had changed her mind. Two days had passed since Vera first reached out, telling Gray that Edrissa wanted to talk to Sam, and they hadn’t received an answer until this afternoon, so that really hadn’t seemed impossible.

Then there was the possibility that Sam had considered, even as the thought ached in their heart: Maybe Edrissa had left Laporte entirely, and Tori and Vera just hadn’t told the others yet.

Sam pulled the phone out of their pocket and opened the messages. They chewed the inside of their cheek as they stared at her response, the one they’d gotten only twenty minutes earlier and had all but jumped off the couch to answer:

It’s Edrissa. Yes, please. Meet me at the general store? They have pies, we could share one if you want.

Sure, sounds good. Meet you there in 20?

Yes, please.

Their foot caught on an uneven patch of ground and they stumbled forward. The phone nearly dropped from their hand. Tight laughter swelled in their chest, pushing at the inside of their ribs, as they glanced around. There wasn’t a soul around, just trees and sunlight and the gentle song of birds.

Sam’s throat tightened as they put the phone back in their pocket. They quickened their step and pushed out a shaky breath between their lips.

Why do we have to live so far away from the town center?

The fifteen-minute walk had never felt so long.

Still, a fifteen-minute walk to a town where people knew and might someday care about them was far better than a fifteen-minute drive to Burmingham, where they hardly knew anyone, and rarely even drove into town anyway. The trees thinned, and before them they could see almost the entirety of Laporte – all one block of it. General store, post office that doubled as a community gathering space, laundry, machinery and repair. Although, everyone who lived there understood that they all had to do more than just what the front of their store advertised, or what they had done for a living while trapped in the hell of the syndicate world. Here, everyone worked together to keep this little town of barely two hundred people running. And it all ran without the heavy-handed authority of someone like Schiester.

Sam pushed out a steadying breath and let their feet pull them towards the general store. They tried to ignore the fluttering in their stomach, even now, even after everything that had happened.

She might not even be there. She might still bail on me. Resentment prickled, and they hated the feeling. She was so ready to bail on me before.

If the walk into town felt like it took ages, the final few yards could have taken the blink of an eye. They swallowed the lump in their throat as they stood in front of the slightly warped wooden door, studying the fresh coat of forest green paint. Just go in. Come on, coward, just go inside. Another deep breath.

They pushed the door open. A bell tinkled overhead, and the comforting scent of grain and dried fruit washed over them. A woman stood behind the counter, giving Sam a friendly smile and a wave before her hand moved to her heavily pregnant belly. Sam only had a moment to take in the rows of canned and dried goods on the rows of shelves before they noticed Edrissa in the corner.

Their heart swelled with a painful throb. She was sitting at the only table in the store, next to a small display of pies that made Sam’s mouth water. Her hair was pulled back, a few short strands falling forward to frame her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Her hands were folded on the table in front of her, the knuckles white. Her shoulders were tense and pulled forward, and Sam felt their own shoulders rising in sympathy. She glanced up, meeting Sam’s eyes and giving them a hesitant smile.

Sam’s resentment melted, just a little. They shuffled forward and all but fell into the seat in front of her.

“Hey,” they murmured.

“Hey,” Edrissa said. A long silence drew out between them. Edrissa’s eyes flicked down and she stared at the table.

Sam chewed their lip. “So… I heard they had, uh, pie here.”

Edrissa shot up from her seat so quickly it startled Sam. “Yes. Um. Let me…” She stumbled towards the counter, where the shopkeeper gave her a warm smile. Edrissa murmured something to her, and both women made their way back to the pie display.

“This is Meredith,” Edrissa said absentmindedly. “Meredith, this is Sam, this is who I was, um…” She flushed crimson and stared at the floor.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sam,” Meredith said with a nod and a smile. “Are you interested in one of the pies?”

Sam’s eyebrows pulled together. “Um… sure, yes please,” they said as they glanced at the display. “Edrissa, want to, um… have some cherry pie?”

Edrissa’s lips quirked in a smile, her gaze still glued to the floor. “Sounds good,” she breathed.

Meredith nodded as she opened the display and took out one of the pies with a complicated-looking lattice crust. “Lovely. One of my favorites. My sister-in-law makes these, I swear she must put some magic in ‘em. If you’re alright eating right out of the tin, I’ll just fetch some forks.” She set the pie on the table in front of Sam.

“Yeah, sounds… sounds good,” Sam said, eyes still on Edrissa.

“Thank you Meredith,” Edrissa said as she took her seat in front of Sam. Her cheeks were finally returning to their normal shade.

Meredith returned with two forks. “Enjoy. Let me know if you need me to wrap up some leftovers… but if you kids finish the thing, just leave the tin!” She grinned down at both of them.

“Thanks Meredith,” Edrissa said, smiling up at the woman. “You’re the best.”

“You’re the delight, darlin’. And I’m hoping to get your linen in tomorrow. Sorry for the delays, you know how it’s been with… well. You know. The situation and all.” Meredith sighed and motioned her head in the general direction of Crayton.

“Mm hm.” Edrissa nodded. She glanced at Sam, then back up at Meredith.

Meredith snorted. “Listen to me. I could chat with you all day, you’re such a dear. Well, you just come get me when you need something. I’ll be, ah, in the back. Can’t hear much back there.” She gave Edrissa a conspiratorial wink that Sam couldn’t have missed. She turned and waddled away, chuckling under her breath.

When Edrissa raised her to Sam again, her lips were twisted in a look of undeniable guilt.

Sam picked up the fork and carefully excavated a bite from the very center of the pie. “So,” they said conversationally. “Who does she think I am?” They raised the bite to their lips. Flavor exploded on their tongue, tart and sweet and tasting of summer. Their eyes went wide and they quickly went for a second bite. “Why didn’t we move here sooner?” they muttered.

“Uh…” Edrissa’s voice wavered. “She thinks you’re someone I like. A lot.” She gathered a small bite of pie on her fork and raised it to her lips.

Sam’s mouth twisted. “So… she thinks this is a date.”

Edrissa froze. “Um… maybe. And it’s… it’s not…?”

A feeling Sam didn’t recognize clutched his chest. They put down the fork and leaned back, crossing their arms. “No,” they croaked. “It’s not.”

Edrissa’s face fell.

“Does that lady know about Zachariah?” Sam said, their voice gaining strength.

Edrissa stared at the table as she set down her own fork. “N-no,” she whispered. “Um, how… h-how is he?”

You could ask him that yourself, if you still cared.

Sam swallowed down the uncharitable thought.

“He’s good,” they said brusquely. Then, “He’s… okay. He’s relieved Gavin’s safe, and Schiester’s dead. It’s been… rough on him, these past few weeks.”

Edrissa tilted her head, plaintively looking up at Sam beneath her lashes. “It could have been better,” she murmured, almost too quietly to hear. “If he’d… if he’d come with me, he could have—”

“Stop,” Sam said, their left hand clenching around their right. “Please. Stop. I didn’t come here to have this argument with you again. And for god’s sake, it doesn’t even… matter anymore. Schiester’s dead. The threat is dead. And as far as I can see, the only person still threatening people in my family is you.”

The words were out before Sam could stop them. They regretted them as soon as they passed their lips. Edrissa recoiled as if Sam had raised their hand to slap her.

Sam bowed their head. “I’m sorry,” they said, jaw tight. “That’s… not what I meant to say.” When they raised their head again, Edrissa looked ready to collapse. She was cringing back in her chair, eyes swimming with tears, hugging herself like she was freezing. Her lower lip trembled as she looked at Sam. Helplessly, she shrugged her shoulders and let them fall again.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I… I thought I was doing the right thing.”

By dumping me? Or calling me a child? Or killing Gavin after everything he’s done for us? For you?

Again, Sam bit back the thoughts. They burned on their tongue, coated their throat. The unspoken words left them feeling sick with injustice and hurt. They opened their mouth to speak.

Edrissa beat them to it. “You don’t know what it was like,” she breathed. “With… with him. With Sir. And… I understand that… you think people change—”

“They do change—”

“—it was two years. W-with Sir. With someone like Gavin Stormbeck, or his father. Well…” Edrissa gave a shaky shrug. “Closer to his father, sounds like. So you don’t understand… what it’s like to have to… live with someone like that. To live with someone just like the person who killed your brother in front of your face.”

Sam’s hackles raised. “I’m a goddamn orphan because of the syndicates—”

Edrissa slapped her hands on the table. “So is half the fucking world, Sam,” she snarled. “You don’t remember your parents. I watched my brother die in front of me as th-they dragged m-me away to…” Edrissa’s breath hitched, and her hands curled into fists on the table. “I’m not… no. I’m not doing this. I’m not doing this with you, I’m not…” She pushed out a gusty breath. “This isn’t what I wanted to do.”

“Then what is?” Sam said through their teeth, ready to stand up and walk out that second.

Edrissa tore her hands through her hair, pulling more strands out of the clip that held it back. She leaned her elbows on the table, holding her head, and screwed up her face. “I wanted…” Her voice broke. She rocked her whole body forward and back, banging her elbows lightly on the table. “This isn’t how I wanted this to go,” she said softly.

Sam’s mouth twisted as they looked at her. They didn’t want to, but… something in their heart softened, even as they bristled from her barb about their parents. They reached out their left hand and placed it on the table, palm up. An invitation, not a demand. Nothing had ever been a demand, with them.

Her lips quivered as she glanced at their hand, and back at them. Her hand shook as she placed it gently into theirs. They squeezed. She squeezed back. Then they let go and tucked their hand back in her lap. The hope that had glimmered briefly in her eyes faded again.

“So,” Sam said as they took up their fork again and scooped up another bite of pie. “What did you want to talk about?”

Edrissa watched them as they took the bite and chewed slowly, savoring the pop of cherries, the sweetness of the sugar. After they swallowed, they took another bite. Edrissa still hadn’t eaten anything.

Finally, she said, “I’m glad Zachariah is doing okay.” She ducked her head and ate the bite that had been sitting on her fork. “Mmm. Good pie. So are you still… um…” She cleared her throat. “Do you…?”

“Are we still… together?” Sam said, trying for casualness. They speared another bite.

“…yes,” Edrissa said. She was holding perfectly still, like a frightened deer that had somehow managed to find its way into a general store.

Sam pushed out a slow breath. “Yeah,” they said, and took another bite. “Yeah, we’re still… hanging out, and… together.”

“Are you… sleeping together?” Edrissa whispered.

Sam raised his gaze to hers. She was looking at them pleadingly, but Sam felt like pleading with her, too. Please, they thought. You don’t actually want to know. You know it won’t help. Still, she held their gaze, her empty fork held in trembling fingers.

“Yeah,” they said, finally. “Yeah, we are.”

She let out a breath, as if Sam had confirmed something she had long suspected and feared. She nodded solemnly. “I thought so,” she murmured.

There was nothing Sam could say. Nothing at all could make this better.

Edrissa blinked back tears and nodded again. “Okay,” she said, voice twisted and choked.

Guilt overwhelmed Sam. They couldn’t stop the words from coming out of their mouth: “You broke up with me,” they said flatly.

“Yeah, I know,” Edrissa said, swiping at her eyes. “I know that. I just…” She laughed, although it sounded suspiciously like a sob. “I just… really messed up all around.”

“I mean, Gavin forgives you,” Sam said with a tight smile, trying for levity. The words fell flat.

“Well, Gavin’s an idiot,” Edrissa grumbled. She aggressively scooped up another bite of pie.

“Yeah,” Sam said with a real laugh. “A bit, yeah.” They ate another bite. Then another. The pie was so good, and about a third of it was gone. Edrissa was eating with a bit more gusto now, too.

The bell tinkled overhead as another customer entered the store. Meredith came to the counter from the back room, and the two of them struck up a conversation. From across the store, it sounded like they were talking about pigs. Sam hadn’t seen any pigs around town, but perhaps there was a farm further away from the town center? Or maybe these were pigs from another town altogether. Either way, Sam was happy to let their mind wander to something other than the tightness in Edrissa’s shoulders, and the pain in her eyes. After a while, the customer purchased a canvas sack of flour and ten cans of crushed tomatoes with peeling labels. Flour from up north, then, and tomatoes stolen from syndicate supply lines. Then the customer left, with only a glance at Sam and Edrissa in the corner.

After a long silence, Edrissa spoke again. “So… do you think we… could ever be… you know…?”

Sam’s eyes fell closed. They rubbed the bridge of their nose and looked at Edrissa again. “Together? Or… friends?”

Hurt flashed in Edrissa’s eyes. “Friends. I know you’d never want to be… with me. Again. After what I did.”

Sam’s lips pursed. “You really don’t get the idea of forgiveness, do you?” They lowered their voice to soften the blow of their words.

Edrissa leaned back. “I tried to kill Gavin,” she said, lip curling. “That’s not something you forgive. And that’s not even the first time I—” Her eyes widened, and her mouth snapped shut.

A chill shivered down Sam’s back. “That’s not… wait… how many times have you…? Edrissa, what?”

“No,” Edrissa said, shaking, hands braced on the table. “No, I’m not… I need to go. I have to—” She shoved herself to her feet.

“Edrissa, stop,” Sam snapped. Edrissa froze where she stood. “For shit’s sake, stop. Just stop. Will you… stop deciding how I feel about shit that you did for two seconds?”

Edrissa’s ice blue eyes were locked on Sam, wide and terrified, but she stayed. For a few more seconds, at least. Sam wet their lips. “Just wait, okay? Let’s just talk. You wanted to talk, right? I already know you tried to kill Gavin. That’s not a secret. And you’re already… forgiven… for that, right?” The word came out strained, but it still came out. “So let’s just talk. Please?”

Edrissa thudded back into her seat like a sack of potatoes. She nodded, shaking.

“Okay.” Sam let out a breath, which turned into a chuckle. They began to giggle uncontrollably, all the tension leaving their body in a gale of laughter as Edrissa watched, a look of confusion only fueling Sam’s hysterics. “Now,” Sam said, clutching their stomach and heaving for air. “How m-many goddamn times have you tried to kill Gavin?”

Continued here

@womping-grounds, @free-2bmee, @quirkykayleetam, @walkingchemicalfire, @inpainandsuffering, @redwingedwhump, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog , @whatwhumpcomments, @whumpywhumper, @stxck-fxck, @whumps-the-word, @justplainwhump, @finder-of-rings, @inky-whump, @orchidscript, @inkyinsanity, @this-mightaswell-happen, @newandfiguringitout, @whumpkitty, @pretty-face-breaker, @pebbledriscoll, @im-just-here-for-the-whump, @endless-whump, @grizzlie70, @oops-its-whump, @kixngiggles, @1phoenixfeather , @butwhatifyouwrite, @carnagecardinal

#honor bound 6 #sorry for taking so long #it was a season of rest #breakups #relationship dynamics #implied past noncon #implied past death #grief #polyamory #discussion of sex #past attempted murder #Sam/Edrissa

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studyofnsfwhump · 11 months

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NSFWhump Prompt 4

Whumpee suddenly experiences a traumatic flashback while having sex with their lover.

#whump #nsfwhump #flashback #consensual sex tw #past trauma #implied past noncon #implied past abuse #bonus if their lover doesn’t realize it for a few minutes #and then is horrified

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flowersarefreetherapy · 8 months

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Hold On: We Are Too Fragile Just to Guess

CW: Vaguely implied past noncon, light dubious spice, jealousy, complicated relationship dynamics, discussion of consent, mentioned past violence

Daniel clutches Star, holding him as tightly as he dares. His bonded shakes in his arms as he cries. Tears burn Daniel’s eyes.

I thought I lost this. I thought I lost you.

Eventually, Star’s breathing settles, Daniel’s shirt damp from his tears. His even breaths ghost across Daniel’s neck, warm and soft and everything he’s been missing. Daniel rests his cheek on Star’s wild curls and breathes in deeply. He smells good, like soap and cinnamon, a hint of coffee under it all. And yet here he is, clinging to Daniel’s sweat and blood stained shirt as if it’s the last thing tethering him to this world.

I love you so, so much.

Daniel takes a deep breath, hating how his wound twists with the motion. That needs to be cleaned and hopefully he won’t need stitches. That isn’t important. He needs to focus. Focus on Star, focus on his bonded, focus on building back everything he destroyed.

And what are you going to do about him?

The other man. The one who made Star smile. The one who got him to laugh, Star’s hand in his. His hand on his chest. The same hand now pressed against his back. Who is he? Why is he with Star? How did they meet? Why did Star pick him? Why did Star want someone else? Is Daniel no longer enough for his bonded?

We’re made for each other! He’s my everything! He’s all I have, he’s my starlight and my love!

“I love you,” Daniel whispers into Star’s curls. “I love you so, so much.”

Star stiffens. “Daniel . . . about, about-”

“Star, I don’t-” Daniel’s words cut off in a gasp, Star’s teeth digging into his shoulder. Not hard enough to break skin, but there is going to be a bruise there later. He breathes out evenly, fighting against the urge to shove Star away.

“Don’t, don’t interrupt me.”

“I don’t want to talk about it right now,” Daniel whispers. “Neither of us are in a good place to have that conversation, especially considering the fact you just bit me.”

“You, you, you like it,” Star breathes, his gaze dropping from somewhere above Daniel’s eyes to his lips, the only part of his face he ever truly focuses on. “You like, like it when I, I, I bite you.”

Does he like it too?

Daniel swallows those words, praying they aren’t visible on his face. Star’s hands slide under his shirt, tongue darting over his lips as his hands slowly move upwards, blue eyes tracking Daniel’s every movement. He wants to shove his bonded away, say he doesn’t want this, that he’s too tired and too hurt and Star knows better than this, but it’s been so, so long.

Daniel leans back against the couch, tipping his head back. Star’s lips press to the underside of his jaw, teeth grazing against the skin. One of his hands stops coaxing his shirt off and instead moves down, palm flat against his stomach. Daniel bites his lip. This is what he wants. And it feels so good, Star’s hands and lips on his body, the growing heat pooling between his legs, the heightened sensations and anticipation. Star bites the skin over his collarbones and Daniel sucks in a sharp breath.

“I know,” Star laughs against his skin. “I, I, I know you like that.”

“Please,” Daniel breathes. “Star, Star, love, please, I-”

The floor creaks. Thad stands at the end of the hallway. When he makes eye contact with Daniel, he quickly turns around, hand rubbing the back of his neck. Silence stretches on for several seconds. Thad coughs. Star hurries to pull Daniel’s shirt back down and climb off him, careful to keep the blanket draped over his lap.

“Sorry,” Thad mutters. “I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Star says, not looking at Daniel. “I, I, I didn’t think anyone was, was awake. I’m sorry.”

Thad slowly turns around, a pained smile on his face. “Ah, it’s alright. You didn’t know. Just, um, maybe not out here next time?”

“Yes, it, it won’t happen again.”

“Thanks, kid. Well, um, good morning?”

“Morning.”

Star smiles, even as a rich blush covers his face. Daniel looks between him and Thad, trying to figure out what they did wrong. They have done far more in front of far more people and yet here Star is blushing as if they’ve done something wrong. Was it because they were on the couch? Theodore hated when they did that, he preferred them on the floor or the bed. But Thad is far from the man he once considered master. Maybe because they haven’t offered to him first? But that doesn’t make sense, because Star’s been here the whole time and he wouldn’t have found someone else if the couple wanted him.

“Star?” Daniel whispers when Thad has moved into the kitchen. “I don’t understand.”

“We don’t,” Star whispers back, drawing his knees to his chest. “Not, not, not here. At least, not in, in public. They, they, they–it isn’t polite. That’s what they, they explained. We can kiss and, and have sex, um, um, just not out here. If they’re here.”

“Oh. This is part of freedom.”

Star nods, his eyes lighting up. “It, it is. Yeah. I, I took longer to under, understand that.”

Daniel wraps an arm around Star and kisses his forehead. “Can I do that?”

Star nods. “It’s just the, the, the bigger stuff that we, we can’t. Small kisses are, are fine. Ezra and I-”

He cuts himself off, but the damage is already done. Daniel stands up, hating the anger that simmers low in his stomach. He needs to leave, before he does something he regrets. He walks into the kitchen and asks if he can shower, ignoring Star calling his name.

Thad shows him the bathroom and where the towels are. He’s welcome to use any soap he wants. During the explanation, Daniel feels Thad’s gaze heavy on him, knowing all the questions he isn’t asking. That doesn’t matter. What matters is getting away from Star.

Before he’s reminded even further of everything he lost.

Tagging: @blood-is-compulsory @darkthingshappen @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @whumpinggrounds @pigeonwhumps @cepheusgalaxy (let me know if you want to be added/removed!)

#kissing #implied past noncon #implied past violence #discussion of consent #jealousy #complicated relationship dynamics #dubious consent #Thad #Daniel the protector #star my beloved #hold on: I still need you

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justplainwhump · 3 months

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Mistakes

Dany is a mess.

[Just A Fling Masterlist]

Referenced Peyton belongs to @wildfaewhump.

Content / warnings: Implied past assault (narrated from external pov), unhealthy coping mechanisms, vaguely referenced medical proceedings, referenced murder.

Kate Tabai lifts her cigarette to her lips and inhales deeply. She has taken up smoking again after the incident.

Helps with the nervous hands. And the nervous thoughts.

She's a failure. And she isn't even sure if it makes it better or worse, that the person she's failed doesn't even acknowledge it.

Dany Hammond stands tall on the stage in front of the container port's employees, tall and confident, as she always does. Chin up, shoulders straight, a winning smile on her face. She's in charge, in control, everyone can see that, even when her elegant business attire is traded for a heavy red overall and a safety helmet.

Invincible. That's what Kate has always thought about Dany.

Until that night, when she'd found her after the gala. A part of her still refuses to believe that memory even existed, that the sobbing, incoherent woman Kate carried into the car and drove through the night was, in fact, Dany Hammond.

She's taken her to a lab, one of those that were loyal to the company, that would keep everything shut off until Dany could decide what to do with it. They'd taken samples, of Dany's blood, of the traces left on her body, while she'd slowly come down from whichever drugs she's been on.

"Don't tell Dad," had been the first coherent thing she'd said to Kate. And that was it. She hadn't mentioned a word of it ever again. Dany must've gotten the lab reports at some point, Kate had seen her pull the envelope with their logo from a stack of mail some days later, with the slightest tremble of her hand. Then Dany had closed the door behind her and shut the blinds to her office. When she emerged a while later, her eyeliner had been sharper than before, her blond ponytail tied a little tighter.

"She broke up with Montgomery", her assistant had whispered conspirationally to Kate, and she'd looked past their boss and wished it were that simple.

On the stage, right now, Dany pushes a button and behind her, applauded by the crowd, the new crane hums into life. Dany grins and claps as well.

Kate can barely stand looking at her.

In her pocket, her phone vibrates.

She flicks the cigarette into the port basin, glances at the crowd again, before she answers. "Yeah?"

"Ms Tabai? It's Nora from the lab. I, uh. This is off the record. But you're the junior's security detail, right?"

The junior. Dany always hated the term. Dany hates a lot more than what she makes people see, Kate thinks. She wonders if Dany hates Kate, too.

"I am. Why?"

"The, uhm. These samples we took some weeks ago. I understood you never came back to us about it, which is perfectly fine, of course, but, uh, the DNA results popped up again."

Kate flinches. "How?"

There's a pause on the other end of the line. "We run tests for the police, too," Nora says then. "There's been a crossmatch with the DNA found in junior's case. We didn't tell them, of course not, but I... I thought you should know."

Kate reaches out to steady herself on a steel beam. "What sort of case was that?"

"Murder." Another pause. "They say it could be a series."

"Fuck," Kate whispers. "Fuck."

Rich boys can be serial killers, too, Dany had said, in that hotel, on that day that feels like a life time ago.

That day when Dany had hit it up with Peyton Montgomery for the first time.

Because of Kate.

With a shaking hand, Kate fishes for her box of cigarettes and pulls one out with her lips.

"We... we should tell the big boss, you know," Nora says. "She's his kid."

"She is my boss," Kate says around the cigarette, free hand angrily clicking her lighter, until finally a tiny flame shows up. "She handles this her way. It's her call."

"Sure, yeah," Nora doesn't sound convinced. If she's honest, Kate isn't, either. "Just... Keep her safe."

From the stage, Dany's gaze searches for Kate's, a familiar feeling under Kate's skin, that she's perfectly attuned to. In a tiny gesture, Dany points a finger towards the parking lot. They're leaving. Heliport, then board meeting. Kate knows Dany's schedule by heart. She throws away the unsmoked cigarette. She's got to pull herself together. She's good at her job. She makes no mistakes. Not ever again.

12 minute drive. 19 minutes heli ride. 120 minutes board.

Murder. Could be a series.

Dany jumps down from the stage, a perfect display; casual, healthy, confident. She shakes some hands, gives out some polite phrases and sincere smiles, while Kate falls into step by her side.

"Everything alright, K?" Dany asks over her shoulder. "You look like something happened. You need a break?"

For a moment, Kate hates her.

"It's about you." She leans in and lowers her voice. "The gala."

Dany's perfect composure rips, just for a second. Her steps turn shaky, her jaw tenses and Kate sees the eyes of the harbormaster widen when Dany's polite handshake turns into a vice-like hold. "Sorry," Dany whispers and lets go, patting his upper arm. "I must've tripped over my own feet there, I'm fine."

The man retreats with a frown, and Dany spins back to Kate.

"That didn't happen," she hisses. "It's over."

"It's not," Kate says, "There's been a murder."

Dany pales, and Kate hates herself for the flare of smug satisfaction at Dany's sudden imperfection. "Who?"

"Talk in the car," Kate says. "Come on. Let's keep moving."

Dany nods, her face shifting back into her casual smile. By her side, she's clutching her phone in her hand. She's pulled up a contact already, photo of a hand casually holding a drink, in the background a plain white shirt, the jawline of a man's smiling face.

Is supposed to be anonymous, but Kate knows exactly who the man on that photo is.

Peyton Montgomery.

Kate scoffs.

Dany Hammond is much less perfect than she wants herself to be.

#just a fling au #Dany Hammond #Kate tabai #implied past noncon #bad coping mechanisms

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whumpsday · 1 year

Text

K&J x MMSS

Kane & Jim masterlist / Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset masterlist

content: vampire whumpees, multiple whumpees, rescue, recovery / comfort / caretaking all that good stuff, starvation, burns, begging, death wish, a teeny tiny bit of gore, vaguely implied past noncon, somewhat more detailed reference to consensual nsfw (not explicit), non-malicious misgendering of a trans character (in kane’s own head before he knows valen is trans)

it’s finally here!! a crossover between my Kane & Jim and @not-a-space-alien ‘s Magnanimous Moonrise & Savage Sunset!! enjoy this 11k collab!! takes place a few days after Impending on the K&J side, and a bit after 17S / 17M on the MMSS side.

Ari lopes across the street towards the unfamiliar hunter’s compound. “Christ, I can’t believe some other sick fuck got ahold of a vampire and got permission to torture it. I know it’s like 5 hours away but yeesh, how many psychopaths are there per square mile in this state?”

Lex tightens her fists. She’s determined not to make the same mistake again. They’d gotten word about another vampire being held captive and tortured, and this time they’d wasted no time in leaping into action. “It’s worse here. It wasn’t just one person, it was everyone getting in on it. And they weren’t even doing it for a reason like Nick. They just thought it was fun to torture it.” Lex can still hardly believe it. She can’t imagine everyone in the place where she worked being okay with that. At least some of them were uncomfortable with it…Not that it had done Valen much good.

“That’s honestly just stupid,” Ari spits. “Dumb fucks. Vampires are dangerous enough that it’s stupid to keep them alive unless you have a very good reason.”

Lex gives a wry smile. “We have a vampire at our house.” That scare with Bailey and Jerome had been the last time Valen left the house. He’d spent the few days since then on their couch healing. Slowly, but healing.

“And for a good reason!”

“Well anyway, they said this one isn’t dangerous because it can’t use persuasion.”

Ari stops on the sidewalk in front of the compound. “Yeah, I’m still not buying that. Never heard of a vampire that can’t use persuasion at all.”

“It’s been held captive here for five years. I think if he was faking it or something, he would have figured out a way to escape by now.”

Ari gives a hmmph. “Well, if this one is all starved like Valen was, he’ll barely have the strength to stand, let alone fight us off.”

Lex fidgets. “We still have to agree on what to do with it.” They’d argued about it on the car ride over. The fact that it would be wrong to leave it there to be tortured was all they had agreed on. Lex wanted to take this new vampire home and give him a chance, alongside Valen. Ari wanted to kill him, put him out of his misery.

And now they’d run out of time to argue. They’re here, at the front door. That meant they had to make a compromise, or one of them had to give in. Ari comes up with the solution instantly, eager to get on with it:

“All right, we’ll give him a chance. I mean, we didn’t give Valen a chance and we really regret that. So let’s talk to him for a little bit, and if we like what we hear, we can just take him home and plop him on the couch next to Valen. Nice new playmate for him. If we don’t like what we hear, just stake him through the heart. Sound good?”

“Yes,” says Lex. “Okay. Ready?”

“Yeah.”

They’d made arrangements with a sympathetic hunter who worked here, who agreed to look the other way when they came in and went to the basement. So when they walk up to the porch together, the door is unlocked, and they can walk right in.

Kane sits in his preferred corner of his cell, riding out another panic attack. They've come in waves ever since the hunters told him Jim is coming for him.

Please just kill me. Please just kill me. Please just kill me. It's the best option he has, at this point. His only good option. Barring that, he just hopes it's not worse than here. Please just don't make it worse.

His ears perk up at the sound of hunters approaching. They hadn't been hurting him much in the past few days, apparently wanting to let Jim handle that, though the silver cuffs they'd left him in burn into his wrists and ankles.

He wonders, not for the first time, if he'll ever get them off again. If he's left permanently in the sun with nights never long enough to heal, it will hardly matter.

Voices come down the stairs, unfamiliar, two women Kane has never heard before. They approach the cell without saying anything, taking him in and waiting for him to do something.

Lex and Ari are not shocked by Kane’s condition. It’s not too dissimilar to the way Valen had looked, so they’d been prepared, although the silver cuffs melting his wrists elicit raised eyebrows from Ari and a sympathetic cringe from Lex. Kane shrinks against the wall, staring at them fearfully. He hasn't seen these hunters before. He hates unknowns, though that's still better than a guarantee of cruelty. He hopes they're just here to take a look at him before he's sent off.

"Stand up," says Ari. "Come over here. So we can talk."

"Yes, ma'am." Kane's voice is raspy and small as he stands obediently, his heart pounding as he approaches the silver bars of the cell. He stops just barely outside grabbing distance, hoping that maybe they're here to give him more information on what's going to happen to him.

“Is it true that you can't use persuasion?” Ari asks. “I don't buy it. I’ve never heard of that before.”

"Yes, ma'am. It's true." The pit of Kane's stomach churns with anxiety at the accusation that it's a lie. Technically, he never told anyone he didn't have it, they figured that out on their own quickly enough, but he would be punished just the same. "I'm s-sorry, I don't know how to prove it to you."

Ari scowls. The only thing to scowl about is the fact that she also doesn't know how he could prove it to her, but she radiates unhappiness at the lack of ability to confirm Kane is actually unable to overpower them. "Okay, fine. Kneel down on the floor, and stay there. We're coming in." She unlocks the cell and she and Lex step inside.

She's angry. Kane tears up, he's made the hunter angry, he's going to be punished, and there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. Hopeless hopeless hopeless. He kneels where he stands with another "Yes, ma'am," trying not to cry.

"Aw, don't cry," Lex says, and Ari gives her a withering glare that shuts her up.

Kane notices a bite mark on the hunter's neck. That makes sense, given her profession, though it's the first time he's seen a hunter sporting one. He figures that most hunters whose necks come that close to fangs likely don't make it back to the compound. This woman must either be very lucky, or very deadly.

Dread pools in him as he realizes these hunters are probably here for revenge.

Ari stands in front of Kane, looming over him with her arms crossed. "So, tell me about what you did to Jim Lieberman."

His heart spikes with panic. He can't lie, he knows this. The hunters are in contact with Jim. They probably already know everything, and if they don't, they can surely fact-check him. Instead, he's vague. He begins to shake with terror as he chokes out, "I k-kidnapped him, and I, I fed from him, and, and, I hurt him. I'm s-so sorry. I'm so sorry, ma'am. I'd do anything to t-take it all back. I've learned, I know better now, I know my p-place."

He starts to cry for real, wincing at the realization that he's just disobeyed her order not to cry. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! P-please, mercy, please!"

Lex is a bit distressed to see Kane cry, and starts to shush him before she thinks better of it. Ari, on the other hand, seems a little approving. She’s not a sadist, but she does like the look of Kane being submissive, because her main concern is whether or not Kane is a threat that needs to be destroyed. And…she wants to root out what his intentions really are. If he genuinely wants to be a good person, maybe he deserves a chance to try. And wringing the truth out of him is probably going to involve some crying. Can’t make a cake without breaking a few eggs.

"Sorry?” Ari scoffed. “Sorry that you got caught, maybe. If you'd managed to kidnap a second human, you probably would have done the exact same thing to them."

Kane sobs. No human will ever believe him. They hadn't when they only knew he was a kidnapper, they certainly won't now that they know he'd beaten his human senseless. He shakes his head in protest, wishing he could wrap his arms around himself.

"N-no, ma'am, I wouldn't now, I swear! I know what it's like now, to be trapped and hurt and s-scared, I'd never wish captivity on anyone, I'm so sorry!" He shudders, knowing a punishment is incoming. "Please, please, please."

Ari looks thoughtful for a moment. Then… "You said you know your place. What would you say that is, exactly?"

Finally, a question with a right answer. "I'm nothing, I'm lower than dirt, I exist to satisfy humans with my suffering. I'm getting what I deserve." Kane hesitates, then adds, voice small, "But... please."

"....Jesus Christ, all right." Ari says.

Lex squats down to get eye-level with him. "Hey, do you have a name?"

Kane cowers away as the hunter lowers herself to get closer to him. No one's asked him his name in a long time. "...Kane, ma'am." He doesn't feel he's worthy of calling himself a de Sang anymore.

"It's a nice name." Lex smiles. "I'm Lex, and that's Ari."

The compliment throws him off. This hunter is strange. Not a bad kind of strange, she hasn't even hurt him yet, but the newness of it makes him nervous. "Thank you, ma'am. Your... your names are nice, too."

Ari laughs. "All right. What do you think, Lex?"

"Yeah," says Lex. "Let's go. Hey, can you stand up for me? Can you walk?"

"I can just carry you if that'd be faster," Ari adds.

Kane sobs in terror. They're going to take him outside. "Please not the sun, p-please not the sun, I'll be good, I'll do anything, please!" he wails.

"We're parked in the shade," says Ari. "Behind the building. There's no sunlight to walk through."

Kane’s relief at no sunlight is complicated by the twisting of his stomach at the implication. This must be it. He's going to be taken to Jim, now. And then... he'll see what his former human has in store for revenge.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll be good," he says dutifully. He shakily pushes himself to his feet, reaches up to wipe the tears from his face, then remembers the silver and lowers his hands back down before he can. The last thing he wants is for his face to burn in addition to the agony of his wrists.

"Should we take those off?" asks Lex.

"Hmm," says Ari. "Um, it kiiind of looks like that's going to be a whole thing to get those off, with the way they're melted on. And probably best not to hang around here for too long. We can probably take off the ankle ones, though."

Lex bends down to take off the ankle restraints.

Kane is excited at the possibility of his ankle cuffs being removed. His wrist cuffs have been left on for what must be over a week by this point, but his ankle cuffs were just put on earlier today, and haven't fused into his skin much yet. No matter how badly he wants the wrist cuffs off too, at least his ankles can start the healing process.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" He holds perfectly still as the hunter removes the ankle cuffs, letting out a pain-laden keen as some skin comes away with them. But when they're finally off, he sighs in relief. The wounds still burn horribly, but at least they're not actively searing into him anymore.

"Are you ready to go, then?” Lex asks. “Is there anything you want to bring with you?"

"I don't have anything, ma'am." Kane says, gesturing at the barren cell. His only possession is the pair of tattered shorts he currently wears.

Lex gets really, unbelievably sad when she realizes this guy literally doesn't have a single earthly possession. I’ll have to fix that, she thinks to herself, already combing through the enormous catalog of junk she has at home for a good gift.

"All right, let's go then," says Ari. They take Kane out of the cell and go upstairs, Lex first, Kane in the middle, and Ari in the rear. Kane becomes winded soon after attempting the beginning of the stairs, so Ari huffs, rolls her eyes, and picks him up to carry him the rest of the way.

They go outside, and just as promised, their van is in the shadow of the building and there's no direct sunlight. Ari opens the back of the van. "Man, I forgot we still have the fucking coffin in here. Well, we might as well use it, the last thing we need is this guy to lose his nerve halfway there and do something while we're driving. Recipe for an accident."

Ari clambers into the van and opens the cage sitting in the back.

Kane peers at what the hunter- Ari- is doing. Coffin. He likes the sound of that. Coffins are for the dead. Maybe Jim is planning on killing him, and the hunters are bringing this to transport his dead body. But as he gets a closer look, it becomes apparent this coffin is designed for living vampires. It's designed for restraint. He can't tell if the metal bars are steel or silver, and that scares him. If it's silver, he'll have no protection. He's half-naked.

"P-please, not more silver, I'll be good." he whimpers. "I won't do anything. I know how to behave. Please no more burning."

“The bars are coated with steel. It shouldn't burn or anything. If anything hurts you just tell us and we'll fix it, okay?” Lex assures.

“We'll get those cuffs off you asap, but for now we should get going.” Ari adds.

Kane barely calms at the assurance. This is it. He's being delivered straight into the hands of the person with the most reason to despise him. At least the journey won't be as painful as it could be. These hunters are strangely... kind.

With a "Thank you," he heads toward the coffin and lies down inside. He doesn't mind the enclosed space. It's almost peaceful in here.

Ari locks it, and the door shuts. The two reappear getting in the front of the van. Lex twists around in the passenger's seat to look back at him. "Ready to go?"

Staying and going are both horrible options. He's going from a known horror to an unknown horror. But he knows it's not a real question, he doesn't get a choice in this. "Yes, ma'am."

"Great!"

They drive off. Lex and Ari chat idly, and listen to the radio. Kane loves the radio. It's been so long since he's been able to listen to music.

One last comfort before whatever lies ahead.

They make a rest stop part way through, to get gas, to stretch their legs, to get snacks. Lex power walks around the van, to get out her restless energy. Ari leans against the door. She leans back into the window, eyeing Kane in the coffin from the front seat. “Hey, do you want to get those cuffs off now, or wait till we get home? We have a first aid kit, but nothing to wash off till we get home.”

He jumps at the chance to get the horrible cuffs off. "Yes, please! Yes, please take them off, please, I promise I'll be good!" He knows it will hurt horribly to have them removed, but it's so much better than keeping them on.

Ari glances around the parking lot to make sure nobody is nearby. They’re on the far end, not even close to the trucks parked to take naps. “All right.”

The back doors opening lets in some treacherous sunlight, but nothing that reaches all the way back to the coffin. Ari unlocks the coffin and tells Kane to sit up, while simultaneously pulling him up by the arms as though he won't. She has him sit on the bed of the van while Lex puts some towels down. Ari unlocks the handcuffs and, figuring it's best to rip off the bandaid quickly, and not give him much time to sit in dread of what's about to happen, simply rips them off in one smooth motion.

Kane lets out a strained scream through clenched teeth when the silver is finally removed, ripping his skin apart in the process. His wrists are a raw, bloody mess, the mangled remains of what could once be called skin hanging in tatters from the cuffs in Ari's hands. He takes a few quick breaths as fresh tears spring to his eyes, trying to calm down, but he's so relieved they're finally off. "Th-thank you, ma'am."

Ari tosses the cuffs to the ground in disgust. "Hmpph. Stop calling me ma'am. Do I look like a ma'am to you?"

Kane winces at the irritation in her voice. “S-sorry, sorry! I'm sorry. I won't do it again, I'm sorry."

Lex presses some towels into his wrists to absorb the blood, holding them there gently. He's unused to being helped with his injuries. For years, he's always had to deal with it on his own. But now someone is gently helping him with a towel. He sobs, knowing how temporary it is. He's going to be Jim's soon, and he doubts his victim will be as kind.

Lex wraps his wrists in bandages, which quickly soak with blood. "We can wash this off when we get home, all right?"

Ari half-supports, half-drags him back to the coffin. "We're halfway there, just a bit more to go. God, I'm tired already."

“I can drive for a while,” Lex suggests.

“No.”

This is the second time the hunters have mentioned home, and it baffles him. A new possibility dawns on Kane, one too good to be true. "Are you.... not delivering me to Jim? For revenge?" he asks.

"Huh?" says Ari. "Oh, no, we don't even know Jim. We're taking you to our house."

"We actually have one vampire there already!" Lex adds.

For the first time in years, Kane feels hope. He has no idea what's in store for him at these hunters' house, and the fact that they already have one vampire does not bode well, but anything has to be better than where he was, and they've already been treating him kindly. And this way, though he knows it's not right, he'll never have to face his victim's revenge.

"Thank you," he breathes. "Thank you, thank you, thank you. I promise I'll earn it. I'm well-behaved, I'm obedient, I'll be perfect for you, even if it hurts. Thank you for taking me away from there."

"Awww," Lex coos, about to lean over and pinch his cheek before Ari elbows her to halt the advancing hand.

"Hmph, see to it you stay docile," warns Ari.

"What Ari means," says Lex quickly, "is that it seems like you've changed, and if you want to be a good person now, you deserve a chance to try. And that very well can't happen if you're locked in somebody's basement being tortured for fun."

"I will be docile," Kane promises immediately. "Always. Whatever you want, I'll do it." His heart pounds. He's getting a chance. He's wanted a chance so badly. "Thank you so, so much for giving me a chance. I have changed, I've changed so much I can barely even believe how I used to be. Thank you."

She said tortured for fun as if it was something that would no longer happen. It's too good to be true. Perhaps now he would only be tortured for misbehavior? And he would never misbehave. A life without pain sounded impossible, but maybe, maybe there could at least be less.

"Sure,” says Ari. “Just don't blow it, got it? You're still a vampire."

Lex smiles. "She just likes scaring people for fun, I think. Don't worry about that too much."

"Stop undoing all my hard work."

Ari's words shake Kane to his core despite Lex's disclaimer. He has one chance. One chance to prove he's learned how to behave, or they're going to take him back to be tortured forever, or at least Ari will.

"I understand. I won't blow it. I know my place," he promises firmly.

They arrive at the house. Unlike at the hunter's compound, there's direct sunlight between the van and the house. They unlock Kane and let him out of the coffin.

"Hmmm," says Ari. "This is no good. Wait right there." She leaves and goes into the house, leaving Kane alone with Lex for a few minutes.

Kane is absolutely terrified when he sees the sun shining just outside the van. His breathing becomes panicked again, his eyes wide with terror.

"Please not the sun, please not the sun, please not the sun! I'll be good, I promise I'll be good!" he wails tearfully, looking to Lex with pleading eyes.

"Hey, hey, relax," says Lex. "We're not going to make you go out in the sun. I'm sure Ari will think of something good, she always does."

Ari comes back a minute later with a sleeping bag, one of the cold weather ones that zip all the way up. She unrolls it on the floor of the van and unzips it. "All right, big guy, get in."

Kane nods shakily with a "Yes, Miss Ari," obediently crawling into the bag. He watches with anxiety as it's zipped up around him, searching for any holes but finding none. A nervous whine escapes him before he can help it.

Ari hauls him up over her shoulder. They lock up the van and come up onto the porch, opening the front door.

Valen is sitting on the pull-out couch underneath a blanket. "Oh, is that- is that him?" he asks nervously.

Kane can smell that the third person in the room is a vampire before the bag is even open, no delicious aroma of human blood emanating. This must be the other vampire the hunters mentioned.

Ari puts the sleeping bag on the floor and unzips it.

When the bag is unzipped, the first thing Kane notices is he's in a house. It's not a very nice house, but he reasons that this is likely how commoners live. It feels surreal, being in a house again after so long in his cell. It's the nicest thing he can possibly imagine.

His eyes shift to the other vampire, the relief at being away from his prison giving way to horror. He doesn't know whether to feel disappointed, or to feel stupid for feeling disappointed. It's clear she's being tortured. Starved, burned, and legs broken, with a metal collar around her neck. At least the collar doesn't appear to be silver, he'd smell her flesh burning.

He snaps his gaze back to the hunters, much more on-edge now. "I'll be good," he repeats. "I promise, I promise. P-please no more burning."

"We aren't gonna burn you," says Lex. "Don't worry."

Ari thinks that maybe Lex should not be so generous with the don't worry’s. She would like a vampire in her house to worry at least a little. If he didn't worry, he might start being dangerous.

"Right, well,” says Ari, looking around. “I guess this is where you'll be staying. Um." She notices Valen looking a little alarmed. "I mean, I guess we could set you up in the dining room, although there's still room here in the living room. Um." Valen is starting to look a little panicked at the addition of this unknown variable, a man in the house, and he's pressed himself into the couch as far away from Kane as possible.

Ari points to Valen. "So, this is Valen. The golden child. To be clear, we like Valen better than you. You will not hurt Valen. You will not touch him, or scare him, or mess with his things. Got it?"

Despite the fact that the menacing tone is directed at Kane and not at him, and is, in fact, clearly meant to be a show to make him feel better, Valen still cowers a little.

Kane barely takes note of the fact that despite appearances, this vampire is a man, in face of the rules being thrown his way. This vampire, Valen, is apparently not his peer, but his superior. And if Valen looks like that... what are they going to do to him, when he's even lower?

"Yes, ma- Miss Ari," he agrees hurriedly. "I understand. I know my place. I will not hurt him or touch him or touch anything else or..." He hesitates. Valen already looks scared of him. He's breaking that rule right now. "I, I'll try my best not to scare him. I won't do it on purpose," he settles on.

"Good boy," says Ari.

Kane has always had mixed feelings about being called good boy by the few hunters that do. Being called good is safe, but... it's so infantilizing. If he were in a position where he didn't have much bigger problems, he would hate it. But it's the least of his worries, now.

"I think you'll like each other," says Lex, who seems delighted, like she's setting up a playdate with two puppies. "Oh, we should probably clean you off, huh? Do you want to take a bath?"

“Yeah, you're…” says Ari. “Um. Kind of gross-looking.”

Kane's heart soars at the possibility. "A bath? A, a real bath? Not a hose?" he asks, brimming with hope. He hasn't even seen soap in years.

"Yeah!" says Lex. "Come on."

The bathroom is upstairs, so Ari carries him again, and Lex starts running the water. “Oh, um, do you want some privacy?” says Lex. “If…I mean, you probably won’t try to go out the window or anything.”

“Yeah, you can have privacy for the bath if you want it,” says Ari. “If you don’t think you’ll need help getting in and out of the tub.”

Kane is so grateful for the opportunity. He'd be mortified if he was forced to strip the little clothing he was still allowed in front of these human women. "Thank you, yes, please. I'd love to be allowed privacy. Thank you so much."

"Okay, I'm gonna wait outside the door then if you need help," says Lex.

Lex brings in a fluffy bath towel and a washcloth, and they shut the door. Lex stays outside it as promised, while Ari goes downstairs.

Kane can hear Valen and Ari talking distantly, but can’t make out the words. Valen sounds vaguely stressed.

He tries to focus on what he’s been gifted. He hasn't experienced a joy like this in a very long time. He's finally allowed to bathe. He removes his shorts, washing those as best he can first and setting them on the edge of the tub to dry. The water quickly turns reddish-brown as he scrubs blood and filth and dead burnt skin from himself, and he ends up draining and refilling the tub. Finally being allowed to be clean is a privilege he never thought he'd enjoy again.

When he's done, he dries himself off with the wonderfully fluffy towel and puts his now-damp shorts back on. He keeps the towel wrapped around himself, daring to hope he might be allowed to keep it. Valen is allowed clothing, he notes, but they like Valen better than they like him.

"All done, Miss Lex," he calls out.

Lex opens the door. She has a handful of clothes: a long-sleeved shirt, long pants, and socks. "Okay, you--oh, you, uh, you wanted to keep those shorts? I thought maybe we would just throw them out, they look pretty worn, but, but if you would rather just wear those, that's fine I guess."

Kane stares in awe at the clothes Lex carries. For him. He'll be allowed to cover up again. He's giddy at the thought, but quickly panics when she suggests taking his shorts away. "Thank you so much for allowing me clothing. I'm so, so grateful. Um, I would prefer to keep them, if that's okay, please. They're all I have left. They're the only thing I have left. Please."

Lex is a bit perturbed. Thank you for allowing me clothing is just a fucked up thing to hear anyone say. "Um, okay. Well, you can put these on, if you want to, and then come out again. We can put your shorts in the washing machine so they can be actually clean. Just leave them in the bathroom and I’ll come get them later." She puts the clothes on the counter and shuts the door again.

Kane shivers with nervousness, wondering what he said wrong, to make Lex look upset. She asked if he wanted to keep his shorts, but maybe he gave the wrong answer? He hopes she really does give them back.

He removes the shorts, putting his new clothes on in exchange. He sighs in contentment: it feels so good to not be exposed. Even when the torture starts, he can take it, if he's allowed comforts like baths and clothes.

"Done again, Miss Lex."

Lex comes in. "Okay. Oh, I forgot about your wrists already. Here." She takes some gauze out of the medicine cabinet. She also takes out some antibiotic ointments and starts rubbing it gently on Kane's torn flesh, before wrapping them up in gauze. "There, how's that?"

"That's... lovely. Thank you. No one's ever..." Kane can't help but start to cry again. He's clean and clothed and his injuries are being cared for. He would do anything for Lex, he decides.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," says Lex. She gently caresses his jawline.

Kane goes rigid as human flesh approaches his mouth, not daring to breathe as he waits out the touch. He's so hungry. Eventually, Lex pulls her hand back, and he relaxes.

"Let's go back downstairs, huh?” Lex suggests. “I just realized we introduced Valen to you, but we forgot to introduce you to him."

He's nervous about the prospect. The other vampire sounded disapproving even from upstairs, and it's quickly becoming apparent that Valen is a third authority as well as a fellow captive. He has to make a good impression, or Valen could make his life hell.

Lex helps him down the stairs. She doesn't carry him, but she does hold his arm to keep him from falling.

In the dining room, Ari has dragged an easy chair from the living room out into the middle of the floor. She's piled the sleeping bag and a couple of blankets on the chair. "Um," she says, scratching her head. "We only have our bed, and the pullout couch, so this is the best I could come up with. This is good, right? You can use these in whatever combination you want to, make yourself a little nest I guess. Kind of lame, but..." She shrugs.

Kane can't believe what he's seeing. "I... get to sleep on that?" he asks incredulously. "With, with blankets? Not on the floor?" He takes a step closer to the inviting chair.

"Yeah, man, go ahead," says Ari. "I just moved it out of the living room because Valen said he'd prefer not to sleep in the same room." Ari pulls the handle on the side to show him the chair reclines and a footrest comes out.

Kane stumbles toward the recliner, sitting on it and wrapping himself up in blankets. It's so comfortable, and with the blankets, he can cover himself completely. He won't have to worry about those curtains being brushed aside, he'll be entirely protected from the sun.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" He snuggles further into his little nest. "Um, did I do something to, to upset or offend Valen? I didn't mean to." He knows Valen can probably hear him, and hopes he takes this as a sign of well-meaning from him.

"Nah," says Ari. "You haven't been here long enough to do anything like that."

"He just gets nervous," says Lex. "He doesn't usually get along well with other vampires. Why don't we go talk to him?"

Kane reluctantly unwraps himself and stands back up. "Yes, please." He wants to befriend this other vampire, if possible. Someone he could count on as an ally. Valen would be able to count on Kane as an ally, too. He could definitely relate to getting nervous.

When he's led back to the other room, he kneels, remembering that Valen is his superior, and timidly introduces himself. "My name is Kane. You don't need to be scared of me. I behave. I will follow the rules. I have no desire not to." No hurting, touching, scaring, or touching his things. "I hope that we can get along...? I haven't, haven't spoken to another vampire in a long time. I don't want any trouble. I get nervous, too... sir."

It feels strange referring to another vampire as 'sir', but Valen is above him, so he errs on the side of caution. He hopes he's correct about the gender, following the hunters' lead when they’d called Valen ‘him’.

Valen scrambles backwards a little bit, eyeing Kane strangely as he kneels down in submission. "Um. Th-thank you, I suppose, but please don't kneel, sir," Valen continues. It feels a little bit better that this strange man is on the floor rather than looming over him while he is bed bound, but it feels...weird. It reminds him too much of when he'd been living with the nobility. And...when people supplicated before you, usually that meant things were expected of you. He'd also added the "sir" on the end out of habit, before realizing how weird it was for two people to both be calling each other sir out of deference.

Kane stands as ordered, heart sinking when he sees that Valen's fangs have been pulled. They’re starting to grow back in, but it's obvious they were missing at one point. Kane knows the feeling well. It's definitely not the worst punishment there is, but it's still horrible. He supposes he'd better prepare for it. But that's okay, he has comforts now. He can deal with having his fangs pulled if he gets to live like this.

"I feel like maybe I've seen you before, um... I want to say... de Sang? Is that correct?" Valen asks.

He freezes when Valen pulls out his last name. "Yes, that's, that's correct. I... don't feel I have the right to call myself a de Sang anymore, honestly." He narrows his eyes, trying to recognize the vampire before him. He doesn't, so he thinks about the name. Valen. Does he know any Valens? Not really. The only one he can think of is Priscus Kithrara's wife, who he'd never spoken to beyond simple exchanges of 'hello's decades ago at a party, and besides, she was a woman. But they did look very similar, even despite Valen's sunken cheeks that matched his own.

Oh. It clicks suddenly that Valen is not a just feminine-appearing man, but likely a transsexual. Priscus's wife and the man before him are one and the same.

"...Valen Kithrara? Priscus's wife- um, husband?" he questions with a tilt of his head, unsure of the correct terminology.

Valen folds his hands on his lap delicately. "Yes, that's--that's me. Please don't be embarrassed about, um, not understanding my sex. Queer folks are often--often confusing to some people." His glance flickers over to Ari quickly. "Um, yes, I suppose legally I'm a wife...Priscus often took me to events to mingle with the upper class. We saw each other, um...I don't remember what the event was exactly, but...I just remember you were very rude to the waitstaff."

Ari lets out a guffaw. "Uh-oh, looks like our second pickup is a fancy boy! Maybe we should let him take the queen bed upstairs!"

Kane's face reddens. "I apologize. I have changed a lot since then. I am not rude anymore." The thought of even trying to be rude to someone sends shivers down his spine. He almost feels like he's going to be punished for the event Valen brought up. "I don't want any trouble. Please."

"No trouble is good," says Valen. "We like no trouble. But, may I ask how you ended up here?"

The hunters already know, and Valen is unlikely to judge him, having married into nobility himself. "I was attempting to capture a human. My lack of persuasion made me an easy target for hunters, and made them feel safe keeping me to, to torment for their entertainment. I was a fool, simply put."

Valen starts to tear up. "They--they tormented you just for entertainment? That's--that's horrible."

Valen also vaguely remembers hearing about this member of the nobility who couldn't use persuasion, apparently a great embarrassment, though he couldn't imagine why anyone would care. He decides not to comment on it though, since it's probably a sore subject.

Kane shrugs. "Entertainment, or a proxy for revenge against whatever vampire had gotten away from them." He wants to ask about Valen's injuries. Does he often break the rules? Is that why he's so broken, given that the hunters here don't torture for fun? He'll wait until the hunters leave them alone to ask, though he doesn't want to be away from Lex. "I am very grateful to be here, where the punishments are... given for reasons?"

Valen looks hesitantly at Lex and Ari. He hadn't been worried about punishments before, but now he is, since it's been brought up. He wants to reassure Kane that there aren't punishments here, but he can't in good conscience because now he's nervous it's not true.

Lex also wants to reassure Kane there aren't punishments here, but she knows Ari would see that as giving him free reign to misbehave without fear of consequences.

Ari wants to reassure Kane there aren't punishments, but she's worried that would put Valen ill at ease if Kane thinks he can hurt him, since there's no punishment for doing so.

In the end they all just sort of shuffle awkwardly as Kane's tentative statement hangs in the air.

Kane is, funnily enough, the only one at ease with this response. That confirms it, then. He won't be punished without reason. It's a mercy he's longed for for a long time. As long as he behaves, he might not be hurt at all. It's too good to be true. He relaxes just a little bit.

"Um!" says Lex, breaking the silence. "Okay, well, Bailey and Jerome are going to come over soon, since we told them we're home now! That'll be nice, won't it?" Bailey and Jerome had offered to help with feeding, and Lex had asked them to be on call tonight since she had a sneaking suspicion they'd have two hungry vampires to feed today, and since Lex was still recovering it probably wasn't the best idea to let either of them feed from her, and Ari certainly couldn't feed two starving vampires on her own.

Valen perks up. "Oh, yes, that will be nice." He looks at Kane. "It'll be nice."

Kane tentatively trusts Valen. Valen is like him. What reason would he have to lie? He nods. "I'm looking forward to it, then. Um, why is it nice?"

Valen smiles softly. "Last time they were here, they both let me feed from them. And then we played a board game, and they let me win."

Kane falls back down to his knees. There's no way. There's no way these hunters are going to feed him, right? No matter how kind they are, even Lex?

But... they'd given him a bath, and clothing, and a comfortable place to sleep, and confirmed that punishment would only come for a reason. Valen was clearly starved, so meals were unlikely to be a regular occurrence, but something is better than nothing. He wants blood so badly.

However, there's the possibility only Valen will be allowed to feed, not him. The golden child. We like him better than you, Ari had said. Maybe Kane is too low to be worthy of food. If he has to watch Valen feed while he continues to go hungry, he's going to lose his mind.

"Please, please, please allow me blood. I'll do anything." He looks up at Lex and Ari desperately, tearing up again. "Please, it's been years, I need it. Please, please, please! I'll be good, I'll be so good, I'll do anything, please!"

"Christ alive," says Ari. "Calm down. We're not going to starve you."

Lex smiles kindly at him and pats his head. "Of course we'll let you have some blood. Okay? That's why they're both coming over. More blood to go around." She giggles like this is very funny.

Kane buries his face in his hands and cries. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I don't know what to say. I don't know how I could possibly repay your kindness. Thank you."

"Do you want a hug?" Lex asks.

He wants a hug so, so badly, but he knows it's a bad idea. He takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. "Yes, please, but, um, m-maybe after? For... safety." If Kane ruined this by biting Lex, he would never forgive himself.

Lex laughs. "All right, good thinking." She puts a hand to the bite on her neck. "Don't know if I'd make it through another pointy hug, haha." Valen blushes fiercely at this.

For a moment, Kane is horrified. Lex didn't get that mark from hunting, she got it from Valen. That explains his injured state... kind of. Broken legs, burns, and pulled fangs are an extremely light punishment for biting. He was left out in the sun for a week for even trying to bite. He's once again filled with hope that his life here will be far, far less painful than his time with his old captors.

Don't blow it. He has one chance. As long as he's not sent back, he'll be okay.

Lex perks up, as though remembering something. "Oh! You know what, since you don't have any belongings, I bet you'd like something huh? I can give you a present!"

Ari rolls her eyes. "Here we go. Lex, they're grown men, I'm sure they don't want-"

"I can go buy-"

"You will choose from the ones you already have, you hoarder. Pick your least favorite ones. There's no room for me on the damn bed with all those things on there."

Lex pouts. "Fine." She goes upstairs for a few minutes and comes back down with two stuffed animals, a bear and a cat. "Don't listen to Ari, we all love stuffed animals. Valen already has some stuff so I think Kane should get to pick first. Which one do you want?" She holds them both up like they are very enticing prizes.

Kane is perplexed by Lex's offer. Ari is right, he's far too old for children's toys. But he finds it sweet that Lex is so excited about it, and... he has nothing. This would be something that's his.

He looks to Valen for a sign of whether he has a particular preference. Kane has none, and he knows his place. When he sees no indication, he hesitantly decides, "...The cat, if that's alright?"

"Haha, awesome!" says Lex, and she hands him the cat. She then puts the bear on Valen's lap.

"We can maybe get you some other stuff soon," says Ari. "Is there anything that you'd want? It looks like Lex's clothes fit you well enough, so we can just get some more clothes in that size."

Ari is offering him a blank cheque. An opportunity to request anything he wants. He didn't have anything beyond his shorts when he woke up today, but now he has a bath, clothes, blankets, a soft place to sleep, kind wardens, the promise of blood, and... a child's toy. Kane stares blankly for a few moments, completely overwhelmed. The only thing he really wants right now is blood. "Um... I, I don't know. You've already given me so much..."

"Okay, well you just let us know if you think of anything." Ari winks. "I'm sure you'll think of something while you're sitting here bored. Although, maybe Valen will let you read his books if you ask nicely."

"Th-that's fine," says Valen. "If you promise to be careful with them. Although, um, you might find them dreadfully boring. And not--and just don't touch The Natural History of Viruses. If you really want that one, I can read it to you aloud, but--but please don't touch it." Valen becomes a little panicked, realizing he's basically just pointed out the fastest and easiest way to hurt his feelings.

"I won't touch. It was one of the rules," Kane agrees hurriedly. "I'll be good, I swear. I don't, don't want any trouble. I know how to behave. I won't touch anything of yours without permission."

Valen beams. Maybe this won't be so bad. Kane is at least polite.

Valen and Kane hear the footsteps on the porch before the two humans do, followed by a knock on the door. Ari comes over and opens it, and Bailey saunters in. "Yooo-hooo, I brought the blood you ordered. Get it while it's hot."

Kane is not close to the path of the sunlight streaming in, but he staggers backward away from it anyway, clutching his plush to his chest fearfully.

Jerome comes in next, carrying a board game. "Well, I have it on good authority mine tastes better."

"And whose authority is that?" asks Ari.

"My own," says Jerome. "If I try really, really hard, I can make my blood taste like licorice. I'm the world's lamest X-man."

"You piece of shit," Bailey wheezes. They shut the door behind them, once again blocking out the sun, although it's starting to set outside.

Kane’s anxiety dissipates quickly. The door is closed again, and these men are here to feed him. He salivates at the concept, staring at them hungrily.

Despite the fact that Valen was the one who insisted this will be nice, he starts trembling a little even as he says hi. It still activates his fight-or-flight response to be in the presence of four hunters, especially so injured and unable to move, and especially especially now that there's also an additional male vampire here.

"And who's this one who's staring at me like I'm a nice juicy steak?" asks Bailey light-heartedly.

"Go ahead and introduce yourself," Lex encourages.

Kane winces, casting his gaze down. "S-sorry, sir. I'm sorry. My name is Kane de Sang. I didn't mean to seem presumptuous."

"Ha! You're good," says Bailey. He looks like he is about to give Kane a good-natured slap on the back, but then thinks better of it.

"So polite," says Jerome. "You sure do know how to pick out the polite ones, Ari."

"Turns out if you beat the shit out of them for months or years, they get really polite," huffs Ari.

"Well," says Bailey. "Lex and Ari told us about your little predicament, and they told us they were gonna take you home if you passed their smell test, so it looks like you're not a total piece of shit if you're here, and that means you get to eat." He does jazz hands. "So me and him are both on the menu, who wants to order what?"

"Valen already got an extra feeding recently," says Lex. "So Kane should get to pick who he wants to feed from."

"I have more blood," quips Bailey. "Just by volume. Although it doesn't taste like licorice, if that's what you're after."

Kane's heart bursts with joy. He's not a total piece of shit, and that means he gets to eat. It's the best news he's heard in years.

"More blood," he answers immediately, looking to Bailey with pleading eyes. "If, if that's alright, sir."

"Great!" Bailey drops his bag. "Might as well do that first, no sense making you wait around."

"One at a time," says Ari. "And let Valen eat first, so Kane can watch and copy him." Obviously Kane has fed from a human before--probably much more than Valen has, in fact--but it's been a long time, and Ari thinks it might help Kane know how to do it if Valen models for him.

"Guess that means I'm up first then," says Jerome. He takes a small knife out of his pocket, unsheathing it. "I gotta do it myself since V doesn't have any fangs right now. Hey, you're like an actual proper vampire, aren't you, Kane? Who's, like, fed from humans before? What would you say is the least painful spot to get blood from? Cuz last time I tried my palm and yeesh, that ain't it."

Valen blushes a little at the implication that he's not a "proper" vampire.

Kane backs away, horrified by the scene unfolding in front of him. This human is going to bleed, and expect him to just stand here and watch, and he's not going to be able to do it. He's going to fail, he's going to blow it, this wonderful dream of a life is going to be snatched away from him and they're going to take him back.

"Wait wait wait! I can't, I won't be able to stay still, please!" The horrible thought that all these niceties were just a taunt so that they could set him up to fail crosses his mind. Is it some kind of sick mind game? "I, I want to be good! Please don't do it in front of me, I won't be able to be good, I just wanna be good!"

Ari clicks her tongue. "Oh, ah, right..." She's thinking of the way Valen couldn't control himself for five seconds and went into a feeding frenzy upon smelling blood. It might be even worse for Kane, since it's been so much longer since he's fed. "Kane feeds first then. Okay, Valen?"

"Yes," says Valen, voice small. "That's fine."

"Me first, then," says Bailey. "The question stands, where's the least painful place to get bitten? I feel like you'd know better than any of us."

"...I don't know. I've only ever fed from the neck," Kane admits. I never asked. I just took what I wanted and never cared how he felt about it. There's no way he can possibly say that, though the implication is there. Guilt surges through him at the thought. He shouldn't have held Jim captive at all, but even if he did, he still could have been much kinder.

"Psssht," says Bailey. "Ugh, fine then. Well, you're not getting my neck. How about a forearm?" He holds his left forearm out, offering Kane the meat near his elbow.

"Just be gentle," instructs Ari. “And pull away when he tells you to stop, and lick it closed when you're done."

"Thank you so much, sir," Kane says, full of gratitude. He bites down as gently as he can, almost unbelieving that this is happening. The decadent taste of blood fills his mouth for the first time in years, and he can't help but cry from the relief, feeling as though he's being made whole again. He drinks and drinks and drinks, like the man is offering him life itself. He's never felt this good in his entire life. It tastes like nothing he could ever have imagined, it's the best blood he's ever had, settling warmly in his no-longer-empty stomach. Bailey says something, but all he can focus on is the sweet, delicious blood.

Ari grabs a fistful of hair and forcefully yanks his head back. "Hey," she growls. "He said that's enough."

Kane gasps, the best moment of his life shattered by the terrifying realization that he messed up. It's been mere hours, and he's already blown it. He's not going to get the same privileges as Valen, the one they like better, let off with a few broken bones and his fangs pulled.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry, I'm so sorry!" His breathing picks up, quick with panic, his gentle, relieved crying morphing into terrified sobs. "P-please don't send me back, I'm so sorry, please, I can't go back there, I can't! I'm so sorry, please, I didn't mean to! Please don't m-make me go back, I'll do anything!" he wails.

He remembers the last part of his orders: Lick it closed when you're done. He can't lean forward to do so while Ari is holding his hair, but he sticks his tongue out, trembling.

Ari flicks his nose. "Put that away." She looks at his trembling, terrified form for a few moments and then sighs. "Yeah, okay, I guess that's on us. We know how hard it is for starving vampires to control themselves. All things considered, that was pretty tame. This might be a problem if you keep doing it when you start to get some strength back, but you didn't really hurt Bailey at all." She releases him.

Kane collapses to the floor, putting his tongue away as ordered. He kneels, looking first to Ari. "Th-thank you for your mercy, Miss Ari. Thank you for giving me another chance. I wouldn't do it if I wasn't starving, I would never. Thank you so, so much."

He looks up at Bailey next, still shaking. "I'm so sorry, sir. I'm so sorry. Thank you so much for allowing me food. I don't know what I can possibly do to repay you. I'm so, so sorry."

"Hey, you're good," says Bailey. "Accidents happen. I'm not gonna let you win at Monopoly now, though." He winks, then strips off his outer layer to reveal an undershirt that says BLOOD DONOR, a shit-eating grin on his face.

Ari squats down in front of Kane, sighing. "Okay, clearly this wasn't a fair shot because we let Valen drink from a drinking glass, and he got to eat as much as he wanted. So we can let you have a double portion today, I still have all my blood, so you can give me a little nibble too."

Kane is completely stunned. He's not being sent back, he's not being punished at all, and he's actually being rewarded. She's going to give him more blood. "Thank you, Miss Ari." he says, feeling like a broken record, looking at her like she's a god. "I, I don't know what to say. This is... so much more than I deserve. Thank you so much. I won't mess up again, I promise." He's fuller now, his head clearer. He knows he will be able to keep his head steady enough to control himself.

"Well, you're literally starving." She clicks her tongue and ruffles his hair. "Just don't say I never did nothing for ya." She holds her own forearm out. "I am going to keep my hand on your head and pull you away when you're done, though."

Kane melts into the touch. He hasn't been touched kindly since long before his captivity began. "You and Miss Lex have done everything for me, everything I could ever want. Thank you." He's more at ease with the precaution. He can't fail, now. He gently sinks his fangs into her arm, relaxing as he drinks more sweet, sweet blood. He's able to keep his head clear, this time. He looks up and makes eye contact with Ari to prove it, to show he's listening, that he can be good.

Ari is a little bit amused by this, she has the dirty thought that this is sort of how Lex looks at her submissively while giving her oral. She threads her fingers into his hair. "Good boy," she says. After drinking for a bit, she pulls him away. "There, how's that feel?"

Kane is completely mortified by the statement, flushing red and breaking eye contact immediately. He really doesn't know how he feels about it, safe and uncomfortable at the same time, but that doesn't matter. He's being fed.

As soon as he feels Ari start to tug his head back, he licks her wound closed as he's pulled free of her. "Feels amazing. I never thought I'd get to feel full again. Thank you so, so much."

Ari hums. "Good. Will it be a problem for you to watch Valen eat now?"

"No, Miss Ari. I can control myself now." Kane says. It occurs to him that he's just made Valen wait to eat. Not the best way to make a good first impression. Once Ari lets go of him, he turns to Valen apologetically. "I apologize, Mr. Kithrara. I didn't mean to make you wait. It won't happen again."

Valen smiles. "Oh, that's--that's all right. I've been feeding every day for the past few days, so-so it's only fair that you get to go first. You were." His cheeks flush. "You were actually a lot more restrained than I was when I broke my fast."

Kane swells with pride at the compliment. He's been restraining himself so long, it must finally be paying off.

Jerome comes over and makes a small cut along his forearm, extending it out to Valen. He meekly takes the proffered limb in both hands, licking daintily like a cat at a saucer of milk. When Jerome tells him to stop, he licks his lips and says, "Thank you for your generosity." Bailey then comes over and has Valen lick his wound closed as well, since Kane didn't get the chance. Bailey digs out a carton of juice from his bag and pops the lid open, drinking directly from it, sitting on the arm of the couch.

Kane studies Valen as he feeds, taking note. This is how the golden child behaves, the one the hunters like better. He will be sure to act similarly the next time he's allowed to feed. He sits on the floor, tired after everything that's happened today, even with a burst of renewed energy inside him.

"Aww, are you tired?" asks Lex, once again as though she's talking to a baby. "We were going to play Monopoly, would you rather not join us? You can just go to sleep if you like."

Both of these options sound lovely. Kane is overwhelmed by how good his life has suddenly become. "I can play, Miss Lex. I just can't stay upright for very long."

"I can't stay upright at all," says Valen, prompting a smattering of laughter from all the humans in the room.

They move a table near the couch so that Valen can play without having to be moved, and set up the game board. There's enough chairs for them all to squeeze around the table, although they have to squish together a little bit. Lex hands Valen the dice to roll on his turn, and she moves his token for him, since he can't reach the whole board.

Things get a little heated partway through the game when Ari starts to control more of the board, sending all the other players into a spiral of bankruptcy, and Bailey nearly flips the table when he keeps landing on her properties.

"Sorry," said Ari coolly. "Have you tried being better at the game?"

On Valen's turn, he hands Ari his entire stack of fake money, not nearly enough to pay off the outrageous debts he's racked up moving around the board. "I believe I am out of the game," he says.

"You can play on my team!" says Lex.

"That's not how it works!" Jerome shouts.

Kane is quickly becoming very anxious. He flinches at the shout, whimpering. He was doing reasonably well, but he doesn't want to play anymore. He sits rigidly, hoping that if he's quiet and still, no one will hurt him.

The table falls silent. Jerome looks at Kane. "Oh, hey, man, I'm not mad at you. Sorry, I just got a bit carried away."

Lex takes his hand and rubs it. "Were we a bit too rowdy? Sorry, I kind of forgot a bunch of people being loud might be scary."

This is insane. It feels so surreal, people actually caring. A human, a hunter, is holding his hand and comforting him. Another human, possibly also a hunter, apologized to him without having even done anything. "I'm sorry. Um, I didn't mean to flinch. I get scared easy. I know you're not mad at me."

Bailey lets out a breath. "It's getting late anyway. I'm sick of this stupid game. And I know you were cheating, Ari, I saw you taking money from the bank. We're playing Uno next time."

"Yeah, why don't we roll out," says Jerome. "See you, uh, I dunno when your next shift is." He packs up the game. "Nice to meet you, Kane, make sure you keep behaving yourself, yeah?"

That confirms it, then, that Bailey and Jerome are hunters as well. He never thought he'd feel happy to be around hunters, but he does. "Yes, sir, I will. It was nice to meet you both as well."

They pack up their things and leave. It's now fully night out.

"I'm beat," says Ari. "Are you all ready to go to bed?"

"Yes," says Valen quietly. He's already in bed. He mostly just goes to bed all the time already.

"Yes, Miss Ari," Kane agrees. "Thank you all so much. Today has been the best day of my entire life."

“Awwwww,” coos Lex. "Hey, do you want a hug now?"

"Yes, please." Kane melts into Lex's arms as she hugs him, finally able to be close to a human without having to restrain himself due to the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach. A few tears leak into her shoulder. "I haven't been hugged in a hundred years, I think."

"Jesus Christ," mutters Ari. She hadn't even considered how touch-starved someone could get being immortal. What a fucking sadsack they'd picked up.

Lex pets his hair. "Well, you can have hugs now if you want. You're being good."

"Can-can I also have a hug? When you're done?" pipes up Valen's small voice from behind her. He's looking at Kane enviously.

Lex chuckles. "Of course, plenty to go around." Lex gives Kane a final squeeze, then comes over and gives Valen an awkward side-hug, since he's sitting down.

Before they go, Kane asks what year it is. Upon hearing the answer, he mumbles, "Five years, then. It... felt like longer."

Ari grimaces. "Yeah, I bet. You think you'll be able to sleep okay tonight?"

"Definitely." Kane agrees. "It's so soft." The concept of being able to sleep in that blanket nest on a comfy chair is extremely enticing to him.

Ari rubs the back of her head. "Um, so listen, I wanted to apologize for what I said earlier. About how we like Valen better than you. What I meant by that, um, well..." She grimaces. "It's really complicated, okay, but we, uh, we kind of fucked up really, really badly and Valen ended up getting really hurt because of it, so we sort of feel like we owe him. And I just said that stuff because I wanted him to feel safer. But looking back it sounded kind of fucked up, so. Maybe I shouldn't have. Sorry."

Kane is touched by this. "Thank you, it's okay. I understand that I've been here less time than he has. You've been unbelievably kind to me."

Valen is also a little touched by this. Both by Ari’s confession that she feels like she owes him, but also seeing her apologize to Kane. His heart warms.

“Well,” says Ari. “Anyway. We’re going to bed. You’re allowed to move around the house if you want to, but don’t leave, okay? And if you want something, you can come knock on our door and wake us up.”

“I understand. Thank you both so much,” Kane says gratefully. “I have no desire to leave.”

After the women have gone upstairs, Kane turns to Valen. "Can I ask you some questions? What did you do to be punished like that?" He gestures to Valen's everything. "Just, just so I know how to behave."

Valen looks a bit scared to be asked such a thing like that. "Um, um I--I didn't do anything. I swear I didn't do anything."

"Oh." Kane's voice is suddenly small and scared. "But, but I thought... they said they wouldn't punish without a reason. It was a lie?"

"Oh, um, th-they didn't do this to me. It was someone else. They took me away from there. Well, I-I suppose they pulled my fangs, but that was just to convince the others I was dead. So he would stop looking for me." He shudders. "And I, um, broke my legs myself. Trying to run away. And, um." He fidgets with the metal collar. "They couldn't take this off me when we left, because they don't have the key, but they're going to figure something out eventually. They just can't ask for the key without letting him know I'm still alive."

Valen's explanation relaxes Kane tremendously. It wasn't them. "I'm sorry you're hurt. You seem very kind. It's a lot better here, though. Maybe we'll both be okay." He gives Valen a friendly smile.

"Thank you," says Valen. "I hope so. I hope you sleep well. I'm sorry you can't have a real bed."

"I've slept on a concrete floor for the past five years. I would be happy to have carpet, let alone an entire chair with blankets." Kane also wants to ask Valen how he ended up captured, but figures it may be rude to ask, especially because he seemed uncomfortable with the last question. "I hope you sleep well, too." “Thank you. Um, I know they said you are free to move about the house, but if you would please, I would request that if you want to come into the living room, you would announce yourself and ask first.” “Yes, of course.” Kane is thankful to be given explicit, easy-to-follow rules by both the hunters and Valen. He won’t blow it. He’ll be good.

Kane curls up in his easy chair, pulling the blankets over him so that every inch of him is completely covered, including his head. He's never been a stuffed animal person, but he rests the cat on the arm of the chair, glad for what it represents. Safety.

Kane is a very light sleeper, so hours later, he wakes to Valen crying in the next room. He hesitantly pokes his head out of the blankets, though he stays put in his chair. "Valen? Are you okay?" he calls softly.

Valen has been lying there for hours trying to sleep. He just can't seem to fall asleep anymore. Every night, as soon as he's lying down alone, the anxiety starts coming back.

Unsafe, you're unsafe. You're out in the open. There's no bars to stop anyone from hurting you.

He's so tired, he's on the verge of asking to just be locked in the coffin again so he can maybe finally just fucking fall asleep. And now he has this added stress of there being a man in the next room. Kane was nothing but perfectly polite and docile, and he seems to have less than zero interest in hurting Valen, but Valen is still vulnerable here, hurt even worse than Kane is. There would be nothing to stop him from walking on over, clapping a hand over Valen's mouth, and doing whatever he wants to him. And that's really all he can think about.

"Don't come in!" Valen cries. "Please!"

But no, that's stupid. If Kane came in and hurt him, he could just tell Lex and Ari the next morning. This wasn't like when Nick would just hurt him in secret, and he'd have no way to tell anyone about it. Nevertheless, he doesn't take back his plea to Kane, pulling the covers over his head, hugging the stuffed bear Lex gave him earlier.

Kane shrinks further into his chair. "I won't! I won't, I promise." Valen sounds scared. He supposes that they've been through something similar, it makes sense that Valen is scared. Alone is safe. No one can hurt you when you're alone, because there's no one else. "I'll stay right here. It's okay."

"Th-thank you. I’m sorry," says Valen. "…Can you, if you don't mind, can you try telling me that I'm safe? And that I don't need to try and run away?"

"It's okay. You're safe, Valen. You don't need to try and run away." The concept is baffling to Kane. Why would anyone want to run away from this paradise? And he can't run anyway, not with those legs. "Lex and Ari are kind and merciful, you're safe. You're going to be okay."

Valen sobs a little bit more. "Thank you. Okay. Sorry to wake you up. Good night."

"It's okay. I don't mind. I'm, I'm happy to help if you need anything. Good night."

Kane falls back asleep easily, nice and warm under his blankets. He can’t believe this is his life now. For the first time in years, he thinks that just maybe, he’s going to be okay.

once again thank you nasa for writing this with me :)

taglist (apologies if you got duplicated i just coped from both stories’ taglists):

@annablogsposts

@cc1010foxy

@darlingwhump

@emcscared-whumps

@nicolepascaline

@oddsconvert

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@soursagas

@thecyrulik

@whump-cravings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpycries

@annablogsposts

@badluck990

@barebarb

@ceph-the-writing-spook

@cicatrix-energy

@crying-wings

@crystalquartzwhump

@cupcakes-and-pain

@cyberneticfire

@darlingwhump

@deluxewhump

@down-in-the-whumps

@elrysdoesstuff

@emcscared-whumps

@extemporary-whump

@extrabitterbrain

@harri-00

@iamtheshriekingguineapig

@icyheart-and-friends

@inpainandsuffering

@interdimensional-chaos

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@lactose-intolerant-egg

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@littlespacecastle

@little-whumpee

@lost-in-labradorite-halls

@magziemakeswhatever

@melancholy-in-the-morning

@morning-star-whump

@myhusbandsasemni

@mylifeisonthebookshelf

@neverthelass

@nicolepascaline

@nine-tailed-whump

@no-terms-and-conditions-apply

@not-a-space-alien

@nyooom

@octopus-reactivated

@oddsconvert

@onlybadendings

@owencarvourenthusiast

@pigeonwhumps

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@quietly-by-myself

@quirkykayleetam

@ramadiiiisme

@redwhump

@scp-1296

@secretwhumplair

@the-whumperfly-effect

@the-whumpers-grimm

@thecyrulik

@thegreatwhodini

@themarlo

@thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight

@t0rture-me

@vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

@whump-blog-reblogs

@whump-cravings

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whump-me-all-night-long

@whump-my-heart-away

@whump-queen

@whumperfully

@whumpthisway

@whumpilicious

@whumpshaped

@whumpwillow

@whumpworld

@whumpy-writings

@whumpycries

@whumpyzombie

@whumpzone

@wits-and-wrongs

@wolfeyedwitch

#whump #my writing #and nasa's writing :)#vampire whumpee #multiple whumpees #rescue #recovery whump #caretaking #starvation #burns #begging #death wish #implied past noncon #kj x mmss #whump writing

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whumpcereal · 1 year

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whumptober, day thirty-one: comfort | bedside vigil | "you can rest now"

part of behavior modification (masterlist here); the final piece of hallie's whumptober miniseries. follows this piece.

content warnings for: implied past noncon, post-traumatic stress, adult language

future snippet, daddy and chief

“Daddy?”

Jack’s heart jumps in his chest. She’s awake. The doctor wasn’t sure when the drugs would wear off.

“I’m here, chief,” he says softly, the childhood nickname soft on his lips.

He hasn’t called Hallie that in years, but she hasn’t called him Daddy in a long time either. It doesn’t make Jack happy to hear it now. She sounds too young, too frightened. Jack wants to wrap her in his arms, to pull her into his lap and never let her go. But he doesn’t reach for her. He knows better. No one knows better than he does what Hallie might be feeling, and even if he doesn’t know how to make it better, he will not make it worse.

Keep reading

It’s the first time he understands what Joe might have felt when he came home, and he hates it. He’s never felt so helpless in his entire life, and that’s fucking saying something.

“Daddy,” Hallie says again, and Jack can hear the clot of tears in her voice. His throat aches in sympathy, but he tries to blink his own feelings away. This isn’t about him. It isn’t.

Except that it is. If it weren’t for Jack, if it weren’t for what he is, no matter how hard he’s tried to escape it, his little girl wouldn’t have suffered at all.

“You’re safe,” Jack murmurs. “You’re home safe.”

She is, too. In theory. The doctor told them that it didn’t appear that Hallie was “hurt.” That’s the word she used. Hurt. A minor burn on the back of her neck and irritation from the tape. A few bruises that are not really bruises. But she wasn’t hurt. Not the way they thought. And even if he’s relieved, Jack knows it doesn’t mean anything. His baby was hurt. She is hurting. She will, for a while. Jack knows.

“I’m sorry,” Hallie whispers. She shrinks back against her pillows, and she turns her face from Jack. Still, he can see a tear slip over the pink apple of her cheek.

Jack closes his eyes, and he slips his hands beneath his thighs. He can’t touch her. He won’t.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, baby.”

It isn’t strictly true–Hallie lied, after all, and put herself in a situation she knew she shouldn’t have–but that isn’t important right now.

“I–I didn’t mean to–”

Jack hadn’t meant to either. It had just happened. And he didn’t know why. He still doesn’t. We get better. That’s what Dr. Breyer says. And Jack is better. Hallie will get there too. But that doesn’t make it any easier to understand.

He sighs. “I know, sweetheart. Papa too. We’re not mad. We’re just glad you’re home.”

“How did I–I don’t remember–”

“Someone dropped you on the porch, baby.”

“Someone,” Hallie echoes.

“They left before we saw.”

“Oh.”

There’s something in her voice that makes the hair on Jack’s arms rise.

“Baby, do you know–”

“Kaitlyn,” Hallie whispers.

“What?”

“Kaitlyn Halstrom.”

“Fuck,” Jack says without thinking. Of course it was Kaitlyn Halstrom. Joe is going to be livid.

But at least they know. There is someone to punish. Something to do.

Not just now, though. Just now, it’s Hallie who matters. It’s Hallie who needs him. And he needs her. Just like he needed Joe. Like he still does.

“Yeah,” Hallie says, her voice watery.

“And the boy?”Jack presses gently.

“How did you know–”

Jack can’t tell her about the video. Not yet. She’ll know soon enough. “Don’t worry about that. Did you know him?”

“I don’t know.” Hallie’s eyes squeeze shut. “I don’t think so? I’m sorry.”

Jack can’t stand it anymore. “Hallie, baby, can I touch you?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes blink open again, and even from the bedside, Jack can see them darting back and forth, like a frightened animal’s. It guts him. He remembers too well how badly he wanted to be touched afterward, just to erase what had happened–and how absolutely fucking terrified he was that someone would.

Hallie nods, just once.

Jack sandwiches Hallie’s little hand loosely between both of his own. He doesn’t know what to say. He wants to promise her that it will never happen again, that it wasn’t her fault, that she’s beautiful and perfect and just the same as she always was. But Jack knows better than that. Hallie will never feel quite like the person she was again. Even when this fades, when it’s a memory that she buries deep inside, it will still be a part of her. Jack knows.

“Daddy?”

“What, baby?”

“Were you afraid?”

Jack’s breath shifts. “For you? Of course–”

“No,” Hallie interrupts. Her hand wraps around his. “For you. When it happened to you.”

Jack doesn’t answer right away. He doesn’t want to tell her; he would give anything for this not to be something they share. It isn’t like putting together Legos or dancing in the kitchen. This is something that Jack would have gladly kept to himself forever. He would take it from Hallie if he could.

But he can’t.

“Yes,” he says softly. “I was.”

“I’m scared, Daddy,” Hallie whispers. Jack bends and kisses her hand. “I didn’t know–it was–I felt out of control. Like I wasn’t even in my body, but trapped at the same time? Like I was watching it from above, even though I couldn’t see. But that doesn’t make sense, does it?”

It does make sense. More than she knows. More than Jack could ever want her to know.

“I know what you mean.”

“You do?” Hallie asks.

“Yeah.”

“I read the files,” Hallie says. “In junior high. I know I shouldn’t have, but I wanted to know–and I was afraid to ask.”

He couldn’t tell her, of course. He didn’t even tell Joe everything. Joe read the files too. Jack didn’t mind. Well, he understood. It was easier than having to explain.

“Are you mad?” she asks.

“No, baby, I’m not.”

“I was mad.”

“When?”

“When I read what happened to you.”

“Who were you mad at, honey?”

“I don’t know. WRU, I guess.”

“Were you–” Jack hesitates. “Were you mad at me? Or Papa?”

“Maybe a little,” Hallie says, her voice small.

“That’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

“I didn’t understand how you could let them do it. How Papa could let them.”

“He didn’t. I–well, I did what I had to.”

Hallie nods. “I know.”

It’s the way she says it, like she actually fucking understands, that stops Jack’s breath.

“You couldn’t help it,” Hallie says. “I couldn’t–I–”

She dissolves into sobs, and Jack shifts from his chair into the bed, cradling her against his chest. His hand moves softly through her curls.

“Shhhh. You couldn’t help it either, baby. I know. I know you couldn’t.”

Hallie clings to him; she feels so small in his arms.

“I felt out of control too,” Jack says softly. “I was so scared. But it’s good to be scared.”

“Why?”

“Because it means you have something to lose.”

Hallie’s head shakes against his chest. “I don’t understand.”

“A lot of things happened to me when I was a kid. Before I met Papa, I wasn’t scared of anything. I–I figured if something bad happened, I deserved it. There was no point in being afraid.”

“Daddy–”

“But when–when WRU took me, I had Papa. I knew what it was to be loved. And that’s why I was scared. I was scared I would never feel that again.” He kisses Hallie’s curls. “I was scared even after I came home.”

“Because you felt different?”

“Because I didn’t feel anything at all,” Jack answers. He holds Hallie close. “Or, at least, that’s what I thought. It took a long time, but Papa was there, and he fought for me. We’d fight for you. We will. And it’s okay if you’re scared, baby. It means you know you didn’t deserve that.”

“You didn’t either,” Hallie whispers.

“I didn’t,” Jack agrees, but even now, he has to fight the voice inside that says he did deserve it, that if it weren’t for him, his baby wouldn’t be going through any of this.

“No one deserves it,” Hallie says.

“They don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Hallie says again. “I shouldn’t have lied.”

“No, you shouldn’t. But then again, Papa shouldn’t be such an easy mark either.”

Neither of them laugh.

“But you’re still a kid, baby,” Jack says. “And kids do stupid shit. We just want you to be safe.”

“I know,” Hallie says. “Where is Papa?”

“With the police.”

“Oh,” she says softly.

“They had your phone. They won’t get away with it, baby. Especially not now that you can identify Kaitlyn.”

“Will I have to talk to the police?”

“Eventually,” Jack says. He lies Hallie back against her pillow and moves to tuck her in. “When you’re ready.”

“Okay,” Hallie murmurs.

“You gave us a scare, baby. But you’re okay. We’ve got you. Whatever you need.” Jack leans down to kiss her forehead. “It wasn’t your fault.”

Hallie’s arms shoot up to wrap around his neck. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, chief. More than you’ll ever know,” he says. “You can rest now. Papa will be back soon.”

“You won’t go?” Hallie asks, and for a second, Jack could swear she’s five-years-old again.

“I’ll be right here, baby. Always.”

taglist: @oddsconvert, @darkthingshappen, @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @sparrowsage, @aut0psy-s, @mylifeisonthebookshelf, @no-terms-and-conditions-apply, @darlingwhump, @squishablesunbeam, @dont-be-gentle-please, @deltaxxk, @irishwhiskeygrl, @keep-beach-city-werid, @keeper-of-all-the-random-things, @hold-him-down, @peachy-panic, @whumpyblogthing, @sowhumpful, @considerablecolors, @ramadiiiisme, @sunnywhump

#whumptober 2022 #no.31 #comfort #bedside vigil #you can rest now #oc #fic #implied past noncon #post-traumatic stress #adult language #behavior modification #hallie prescott kenyon oc #jack kenyon oc #hurt/comfort

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whumpshaped · 9 months

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Epilogue – Dusk

there u go :) last chappy...

Dollhouse Masterlist

tw major character death, funeral, aftermath of trauma, paranoia, anxiety, police mention, hospital stay, murder mention, alcohol mention, implied past alcohol problems, implied past noncon, lady whump, implied eye gore, aftermath of surgery, past captivity, divorce, estranged family, again it's a lot i tried to get everything i'm sorry if i didn't

They weren’t supposed to be there that day. “It would be a small ceremony,” they’d told them, “it wouldn’t be appropriate. Or good for you.”

Dusk– no, he wasn’t Dusk anymore. He would never be called Dusk ever again. Diell wasted absolutely no time finding a way to be able to get out of the ward in time and take Ginger with him. They both agreed that just spoken accounts of the funeral wouldn’t be enough. They had to see the body be lowered into the goddamn hole and immediately deface the tombstone.

He was fairly sure that Grace and Jonathan’s father played a role in them being able to sneak off as easily as they did. He would never thank the guy, not even in some weird, abstract way, but he was definitely pleased to know that he knew that any doll had more of a right to attend the ceremony than even family members.

They had to leave Pepper in the hospital, to all of their dismay. They were more hurt than the two of them, plus they wouldn’t have been able to see anything anyway. They asked for the most gruesomely detailed retelling of the funeral later, which both Diell and Ginger agreed to provide.

“I hope she’s cremated,” Ginger muttered on their way to the cemetery. “No, actually, I hope she’s not. I want to see that it’s her. If she was cremated, they could totally just put whatever in the urn, and no one would ever know.”

“Don’t even say that, holy shit.” The thought of Grace being alive in the world somewhere was a terrifying one. He had managed to kill her one time, and only because she was unconscious, but maybe that luck wouldn’t last a second round. “I’m sure they’ll bury the whole body. Like, intact. I bet it’ll be open-casket as well, with corpse make-up and all that shit.”

“Oh, she would never go six feet under without proper make-up. Never.”

Diell was the first to begin laughing, and Ginger followed soon after. The sounds of their joy felt wildly out of place at the enormous gates of the cemetery, but neither of them could find it in their soul to care. They saw people running around in pink instead of black, pink suits, pink dresses, pink ties to match. It was something out of an absurdist horror movie.

They ducked behind some gravestones when they caught a glimpse of the witch mother herself, their excitement suddenly giving way to fear. If Grace was that unhinged, that could only mean two things: either she had surpassed her mother in unhingedness, going on to become the supreme unhinged demon, or she’d learned everything from the even more unhinged woman who came before her. Diell held his breath, hoping with all his heart that it was the former.

When he looked at Ginger’s face, he could tell that the same thoughts and fears were playing on her mind. Maybe this had been a bad idea, and maybe the hospital staff had been correct, and maybe it was embarrassing and weird to be hiding behind the markers of others’ final resting places. Diell glanced at the tombstone that was a couple inches away from his face, squinting to be able to read the name through all that moss.

Sorry, Thomas and Esther Taylor. This is kind of an emergency.

“You think she even knows what we look like?” Ginger whispered.

“No idea. Maybe Grace showed her photos.”

“We should’ve planned further than two sweatshirts with hoods.”

“I’m happy that I even managed to snatch these up. Imagine if we had to come here in dresses or hospital gowns.”

Ginger shivered. “Yeah. Fuck that.”

They spent the entire ceremony huddled behind the headstones, listening to the priest go on about what a loving daughter and sister Grace was, occasionally peeking out to try and get a look at the body. Thankfully, not many people were attending, and Ginger turned to him with a triumphant smile soon enough.

“It’s her. It’s really her!”

“Fucking good. I hope the end to this whole shit isn’t some weird, Jesus-type resurrection.”

“Now you’re just being stupid,” she teased, but placed a dirty hand on top of his, her expression turning deathly serious. “If she moves a muscle, I’ll choke her right back to hell. Yeah?”

She meant it, Diell could tell. There was no condescension in her voice. She wasn’t telling him that he was too paranoid. She sounded exactly like someone who had thought about this before, in excruciating detail, and came to the conclusion that she was willing to risk her own life in exchange for the peace of mind that’d come with feeling Grace’s pulse disappear under her own hands.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, giving her hand a squeeze.

They watched as the crowd started swarming towards the actual grave, and they followed them from a safe distance, pretending to be taking a leisurely walk or something. Diell didn’t even know what their cover story was, honestly. But no one ended up paying them any mind, instead focusing on the wailing mother.

From what Diell could tell, there were no other people from Grace’s close family. Maybe her grandmother? It was hard to tell. It didn’t really matter. He was happy to know that her father decided to spend time with Jonathan in the hospital instead of coming to attend this pretentious display of wealth and ridiculousness.

The casket was slowly lowered into the hole, and both Diell and Ginger were watching it like hawks. No tricks. No ghosts. No vampires, no zombies, no nothing. Grace’s body was dropped down and buried, so deep that there wasn’t a single chance that she could’ve crawled out. Her mother knelt on her grave, weeping like someone out of a tragedy, grabbing handfuls of dirt without a care in whether it’d ruin her expensive-looking, pink gloves.

Diell turned to his friend, briefly pretending he was gonna retch. Ginger had to hide a smile.

They lingered until after everyone else had already left, only competing with Grace’s mother by that point. She had to eventually be escorted out by the police while she kicked and screamed, claiming that they were disrespecting a mother’s right to stay with her beloved, deceased daughter. Ginger rolled her eyes at the argument, finally sauntering over to the grave with Diell in tow.

“So… that’s that,” he said. “She’s gone.”

“I really want to grab a hammer and fuck up the headstone.” Ginger looked up at him, tears shining in her eyes. “One of those big sledgehammers. I want to just… go at it. I want to fucking destroy it.”

“I know.” He carefully pulled her closer, slow enough to give her plenty of chances to push him away if she didn’t want to be touched. But instead of pushing him away, she wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his chest.

“It’s so unfair. It’s so unfair. We were there for years, and she just gets to go out like this? And– and then she gets a fucking funeral? And some disgusting, liar priest kissing her ass? What did any of her victims get? The ones who didn’t make it? What did Belle get? Or Sunny? What did the ones I didn’t even know get? What– what the fuck is wrong with people?”

He rubbed circles into her back as he listened, survivor’s guilt, sorrow, and the anguish of injustice eating away at him too. Ginger was right, and it was a horrible feeling to know that neither of them could do a thing to right Grace’s wrongs. They especially couldn’t force her to right them herself, now. She was out, just like that, enjoying her vacation in Barbie hell somewhere.

Ginger took a while to calm down. When she did, Diell gently pushed her away by the shoulders, looking into her puffy, red eyes. “It’s over, Maya,” he whispered, a part of him still scared that he might’ve uttered the magic words too soon.

She couldn’t get a word out before she had to cover her mouth with both hands, attempting to muffle her whimpers. “You fucking asshole,” she choked out, and Diell was worried he might’ve genuinely messed up. “You waited ‘till I was somewhat okay, and then you spring that shit on me? Why are you even bringing up the weird shit I told you during– what’s wrong with you?” She half-heartedly punched his arm, then wiped at her face with the sleeve of her sweater.

“I– I’m sorry, I–”

She hugged him again, with even more momentum this time, her frail body slamming into his with the power of a three-tonne truck. “I can’t believe you actually remembered something so stupid. You really– you safekept it for me… You really did…”

Diell hesitantly put his arms around her again, waiting for her to change her stance on this again. But she didn’t. The two of them just stood there, right on top of Grace’s grave, in an embrace so tight it probably cracked some ribs.

They didn’t leave the cemetery until the next morning. They didn’t even sleep, – or at least never at the same time, – they just sat on a nearby bench, watching the pile of dirt for any anomalies or paranormal activity. Hell, they wouldn’t have been surprised if Grace’s mother showed up again with candles and chicken blood. When nothing like that happened, they crawled back to the hospital, allowing themselves to be yelled at and sent for an immediate shower and check-ups.

Messed up. It was entirely messed up that it had already been a year. While Diell had been with Grace each day seemed too long, but they also just blurred together. On the day of his escape, he’d been informed that he’d spent fifteen months in that hellhole. He later counted; exactly 477 days. More than a year. He both thought it had been shorter and longer than that, and honestly, he had no idea what to feel about the actual number.

He knew he was the newest acquisition at the time. No other doll had been added to the collection after his kidnapping, which made him the… luckiest? His one year was absolutely nothing compared to what he’d heard the twins say. Eight years… More than eight, even.

Maya had a more difficult time counting, both mentally and from a memory standpoint. At first, she didn’t want to do anything with the data. Her first order of business was to make an appointment with a hairdresser and get rid of her naturally ginger hair, demanding a deep blue to forest green gradient. She’d come home that day to see Diell on the computer, obsessively counting and recounting his days spent in captivity, and she flipped her hair and told him to enjoy being out.

Later that day, Diell saw her checking the calendar app against old newspaper clippings. “I can’t remember when I was taken. Can’t remember the day. I… I even got the year wrong.”

Diell couldn’t even imagine. She had counted and counted, eventually coming up with the final numbers: 5 years and seven months, or 67 months, or 2039 days. They had both stared at the numbers for a very long time.

“I’m so much older now,” she’d whispered. “I’m twenty-six now. I… I was celebrating my twentieth that year.”

That wasn’t the only thing she had to reconcile with. Her disappearance had turned out to be the last nail in the coffin of her parents’ crumbling marriage. After she’d been presumed dead, her mother filed for a divorce. Her childhood home had been sold, and her parents were both in another relationship now, ones she wanted nothing to do with. She didn’t even tell them she had come back, dismissing their calls and slamming the door in her mother's face when she tried to visit.

She was living with Diell instead, in an apartment the two of them had bought with the compensation money they’d been awarded. He was now sitting on the couch, bouncing his leg and trying not to think about tomorrow.

“I invited Tai,” Maya said as she entered the living room. “They said yes, like, immediately. They didn’t even give me the whole ‘Oh, I don’t know, do I wanna hang out with losers?’ talk. I think they're stressed out too.”

Pepper had thought long and hard about the name change situation. They wanted something absolutely deadly and dangerous, but also something that sounded cool. They had browsed a long list of venomous snakes for days, finally settling on Taipan. “If I’d had venom back then, aside from just… insults, then I would’ve been fine. Manifesting or whatever.”

“It's weird,” Diell muttered. “Like, the whole anniversary thing. Just weird. I don’t like it.”

Maya sat down next to him, sighing heavily. “You think the others are also this fucked up from it?”

Diell shrugged. “You think it’s fucked that I don’t even text them anymore?” he asked quietly, the ever-present guilt in his heart throbbing a little more as he said the words. This time, it was Maya who shrugged.

“I don’t either. So either we’re both fucked, or neither of us is.”

They sat there in silence, listening to the clock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Each second brought them closer to the dreaded day, increasing their anxiety tenfold.

“Do you also have these… weird fears about it?” Maya whispered. “Like she’ll bust down the front door at midnight?”

“Yeah. Like, ‘haha, time’s up, you got to be free for a year, but now let’s get back to the–’ you know. Back to all that shit.”

Maya nodded without a word. She looked absolutely haunted, and if Diell had to guess, he probably looked similar. “It’s so stupid. I saw her be buried. It’s not like many people come back from the dead.”

“I know. I can’t logic it away either, though. So we’re just stuck with our weird paranoia.” He put his arm around her shoulders, gently pulling her closer. He’d learned early on that Maya would never ask to be comforted like that, but more often than not, she was very appreciative if someone made the decision for her. “But we have each other, right?”

“Yeah, Captain Cheesy.”

Taipan barged in with such force that both others jumped, flinching away from each other as if they’d been caught red-handed. “Stop doing that!” Diell snapped.

“Absolutely not!” They pointed in his vague direction with their cane. “How else would I prove that I’m still a menace?”

Their doll eyes were taken out almost immediately upon arriving at the hospital. Grace had done the sort of job on them that was expected of an amateur with no surgical knowledge or training, and the doctors worked tirelessly to reverse as much of the damage as possible. But before the operation even started, Taipan had been offered two routes they could go with their new prosthetics. Diell naively thought they’d jump on the opportunity to make it as natural as possible; he’d seen some absolutely amazing work on the wall of the private hospital’s ocularist.

Well… They were now rocking two pitch black orbs with realistic stars painted on them, looking like they held all the secrets of the universe behind them.

Maya laughed, jumping up to go and hug them. Diell watched the two of them with a smile, his fear-based irritation melting away. “I’m so glad you came, I need someone to back me up with the music choices.”

“I would never live with someone who refused to acknowledge that his taste is inferior and I should be the only one with party-music privileges.”

“I’m not gonna be bullied in my own home!”

Maya stuck her tongue out at him; as did Tai, without even seeing that she was doing it too. Diell couldn’t stifle a grin.

“Are we ordering pizza?” they asked as they walked over to the couch, plopping down right next to Diell. “There’s this new place that’s just opened, and I’m telling you, neither of you have ever seen cheese with a better pull quality. It’s glorious.”

“I mean, if they have Hawaiian–”

“You’re absolutely disgusting, Diell. I am stealing Maya away.”

Before more insults could’ve been thrown his way, Diell’s phone went off with a notification. Valerie’s name flashed on the screen, and he quickly checked the texts to see if it was something urgent. She probably wasn’t in the best headspace either.

By evening time, all four of them were sitting on the living room floor, eating pepperoni pizza off the coffee table. It was a weird little sleepover, with plenty of laughter and tears both. Sometimes they almost completely forgot about why they had even gathered together like this, and sometimes all they could talk about was Grace and their time spent in her pink little prison.

“When you can actually see, when you can actually get out and see the outside world, and know you’re not there– I imagine that’s different. I’m sure it was so different for Bora.”

Maya was saying the words out loud, so Tai could also know what the conversation was about. Valerie had an easier time talking to them one on one; when a little group of them were together like this, it was easier to have someone translate as she signed.

“But for me, all I had for the past years were sounds and scents. And touch. And Bora felt the same out here as he did back there. I just couldn’t stand it. He kept making me feel like I was still there.”

“Are you okay now, though? With us?” Diell asked, and Val nodded.

“Yeah.” She paused a little. “It’s different with everyone else. I don’t even understand how Bora could put aside his trauma to try and help me. It must’ve taken so much. Me leaving was the best decision for both of us, even if he was upset at the time.”

Diell glanced at Maya, wondering whether she felt the same way. Their ‘relationship’ at Grace’s place didn’t last more than maybe a couple months, and never went further than a kiss on the cheek or a peck on the lips. It wasn’t really comparable to what Val had talked about at the hospital. Still, he couldn’t help but hope he wasn’t going to lose his best friend.

“I fully get that. And you gotta put yourself first, right? That’s just how it is.” Tai felt around for another slice, and Diell quickly put one on their plate for them. “I’m sure he has plenty of people’s support from within Jonathan’s little group. And outside of that, too.”

“I’m sure as well.” Maya put a gentle hand on Val’s knee. “It’s not your responsibility to nurse others back to health when you’re still working on yourself. We’ve all been through a lot. You get out, you do the best you can– it’s all you can do.”

The conversations fizzled out as they inched closer and closer to midnight. They were all either deathly still or fidgeting constantly, no inbetween. Diell and Maya were staring at the clock, giving quiet reminders of time’s passage. It was like the most fucked up New Year’s Eve party.

“One minute.”

“Thirty seconds.”

“Twenty.”

“Ten.”

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

Diell held his breath, and with how quiet the room had gotten, he assumed everyone else did too. He thought about that day from exactly a year ago; stabbing Grace, the feeling of blood sticking to his hands, the sun’s blinding light outside, the sirens of the ambulance and police cars, the bumpy road leading to the hospital. The funeral. Jonathan taking in some of his friends, giving them all a second chance at life, the first of which his sister had taken away beforehand.

“Happy anniversary?” Tai tried, half-jokingly, breaking the spell.

“Well, I’m fucking happy,” Maya said confidently, and Diell knew he was the only one who saw the tears shining in her eyes as she did so. He pretended not to.

Through the open windows, they could hear all the street noise; cars coming and going, groups of intoxicated teenagers having a fun time, dogs barking at nothing. The world didn’t end at midnight. Grace didn’t show up to take them all back.

“Maybe we should go to sleep,” Diell suggested. “I’m– Okay, I know it’s not very popular with you two to admit to having a shit time, but I’m honestly exhausted from all that stupid anxiety.”

“Maybe we’ll start admitting to it in this new year.” Maya playfully shoved him a little. “Go to sleep, grandpa. We’ll keep it down.”

Diell smiled, then went to take a long, very hot shower after saying his good nights. It was comforting to be able to do it alone, even if he sometimes still felt Grace’s hands on his naked body, scrubbing him down without a care, like he wasn’t even human. He avoided looking in the mirror when he got out, knowing that all he would see in it this late at night were blonde strands of hair and soulless blue eyes.

He didn’t fall asleep for a long time, still just lying there by the time Maya came to crawl into bed with him. He turned towards her, noting the distinct scent of alcohol. “Maya?”

She hummed. “What?”

“You didn’t drink too much, did you?”

“No such thing as too much. Not on the anniversary of your kidnapper’s death.”

He scooted a little closer, pulling her into a hug. “Yeah, there is. And I’m so happy you didn’t overshoot this time.”

A whole year had passed. Instead of Ginger, Maya was now crying in his arms. They had different problems, even if none of them felt less serious than the ones from before. She wasn’t passed out on the floor, only slurring her words a little.

It would be okay. It would all be okay, in the end.

taglist: @whumpsday @lonesome--hunter @reblogging-whump @panic-and-chaos @kim-poce @uwu-scraptrappy @mikaelaix @whumpinggrounds @hidden-dreamland @the-scrapegoat @whumplr-reader @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @whumpinthepot @devourerofcheesecake

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whumpacabra · 2 months

Text

New Tricks

Angst, crying, exhaustion, fever, touch starvation, scars, local anesthetic, stitches, painful wound treatment, pain medication, needle mention, fear of electrocution, anticipated violence, referenced character death, past torture, implied past noncon

[Directly follows Bad Dog]

The Wolf waited. He drank every second of gentle touch he could get and he waited for the price to be exacted on his already rent flesh.

It never came.

He cried himself to exhaustion, nauseous with the knowledge he was too tired, that it would kill him to take any more punishment. (He didn’t want to die.) But the hands that pulled his tear stained face from the agent’s tear soaked shirt were gentle, holding his jaw like it was a fragile thing. And the eyes looking down at him - alien with their pity - had no sharp edges trying to cut into his own pain glazed eyes.

“I - I have a medkit. Would you - do you need help, stitching up your back?”

The Wolf stared up at him, too tired to process the words beyond ‘help.’ He didn’t get help - he got treatment. He recovered enough to be broken again. But there was a finality to the way this man said that word, like it meant something more than a temporary state of being.

“Okay. I’m - I’m just going to get my medkit, alright? Alright.” Jackson was talking more to himself, and the Wolf was fine with that. The words were starting to blur together, the sound of a particular voice that didn’t come with hurt or insults or harsh hands. Jackson’s gentle hands propped the Wolf against the edge of the tub, an arm draped over the side and his head resting against the cool false porcelain plastic. He was so fucking cold. He just wanted to curl up somewhere warm and sleep.

(He wanted to crack open Jackson’s rib cage and slot himself between his lungs.)

He was shivering intermittently when Jackson returned (had he been gone long?) but the Wolf was just happy to have that warm presence hovering near him again. The agent sat beside him, the space between the sink and tub a cramped and uncomfortable place to fit two grown men, but the Wolf didn’t mind.

(How odd, that just hours before he would dread having another warm blooded body close to his, and now - now, with this one, he wanted to cling to that warmth like a leech.)

The click and snap of a syringe being prepped had the Wolf open his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at Jackson, who offered a nervous smile.

“It’s a local anesthetic - is that alright?” The Wolf blinked at him, and then looked away. He didn’t know how to answer questions about his comfort, his wants. (He just wanted to sleep.) The kiss of the needle was expected, but the bloom of cool numbness it bestowed where it pricked his back was a welcome surprise.

“I’m - I need to clean these. Even with the anesthetic it might hurt.” The Wolf could feel those alien eyes watching the back of his head, so he nodded. “Sorry.” Jackson had nothing to apologize for.

The sting of antiseptic was absent, but the pressure and prickle of exposed flesh being prodded and debris teased away was a familiar sensation. His handler had cut into him on the first night, reckless with rage. The Wolf tried not to dwell on the memory, but a tremor shivered up his spine as Jackson worked, gentle hands pausing.

“Are you alright?” Another nod. Another soft ‘sorry’ that felt unwarranted. It was the Wolf’s fault for being weak. He tried to focus on the steady rhythm of Jackson’s stitches, oddly difficult to anticipate with his pain numbed flesh.

Three days of those deep cuts left exposed, open to the air and sweat and worse. They would scar, badly, like the cuts that ran from his right hip to his spine, skin ridged and thick with scar tissue. His handler wanted them to scar badly. He wanted the Wolf to remember - to remember that he -

A sob caught in his throat, the shock collar still heavy around his neck. It wasn’t set to voice activation - he didn’t think it was - but it had shocked him earlier. Had his handler done that? Had his handler survived and was watching and would kill Jackson or have him kill Jackson and - ?

“Easy love, I’m almost done. You’re doing so well.” A voice so soft and so different from the barking orders and snarled insults he was acclimated to. The Wolf blinked away fresh tears, struggling to find his voice, a hoarse whisper rising from his ragged throat.

“Is he dead?” Three little words; a question he couldn’t stand to know the answer to. A question he needed to know the answer to if he ever wanted to sleep again. Jackson’s hands, cold - so cold against the Wolf’s burning, numbed skin - stilled, a steady palm pressed to a small expanse of uncut flesh. But not too hard, mindful of his bruises.

“Yes. Agent Smith is gone. He’s dead.” The Wolf could hear a question in those words, but he was too relieved to consider it. Jackson - anyone - could kill him, let him die badly, alone, and bloody, and he would die happy. He outlived his handler. A victory he didn’t know he needed.

Jackson resumed his steady handed stitches, and the Wolf let his head drop, thoughts running watery and disconnected. The hum of the light above. The creak of the window pane holding back the wind. The footsteps in the room above - light, belonging to a child, a bed creaking and muffled voices soft with sleepy affection.

“You’re warm.” He sure as hell didn’t feel warm. The Wolf looked over his shoulder at Jackson, instinctively flinching as a hand came toward his face, but he relaxed into the icy touch pressed to his forehead. He almost missed it when it left. “Here, are you allergic to Advil?”

The Wolf looked down at the red pill and the almost comically small paper cup with a swallow’s worth of water. His stomach ached, hunger and nausea fighting for recognition even as he downed the medication and splash of liquid. He had taken harsher drugs with less in his stomach. (Not that what was roiling in his gut was pleasant or nutritious.)

With a shudder he rested against the tub once again, Jackson’s hands and sterilizing wipes traveling away from the oldest, deepest cuts. The antiseptic stung, a familiar pain that burned like acid over his wounds. But Jackson didn’t linger, didn’t press the antiseptic deeper into his flesh. He stitched the deepest wounds, bandaged the rest, and worried over surface level burns as though the Wolf could still feel them after the years of his handler’s habit leaving its mark.

By the time Jackson was putting away his medkit, the first grey glow of dawn was seeping through the rain dappled window. The Wolf hadn’t moved in hours, sitting still and as comfortable as he could be while Jackson worked. He was so tired. And when he limped out of the bathroom after Jackson, there was a wonderful nest of blankets and pillows waiting on the soft carpeted floor.

“You take the bed, I don’t mind sleeping on the floor - besides, your back could…” Jackson trailed off as the Wolf wandered to the crude bed on the floor, dropping harshly to his knees and collapsing into the softness.

In his daze of exhaustion, he barely registered the anxious horror of knowing Jackson wanted him on the bed. That was a problem for a well rested Wolf. That was something he could handle tomorrow, that he could survive tomorrow, that he could stomach tomorrow.

Right now, there was a soft surface below him, a heater humming to his right, and a painlessness to his injuries that should have frightened him.

But he was too tired, so he slept.

[Directly before In for a Penny]

(Part of my Freelancers: Changing Tides series)

Taglist: @stargeode

#whump #angst #crying #exhaustion #fever #touch starvation #local anesthetic #stitches #painful wound treatment #pain medication #needle mention #shock collar #past torture #implied past noncon #anticipated violence #referenced character death #freelancers #shhhh he eepy <- my sleep schedule is so fucked. why do town council meetings run until 1 AM.#(it is kinda my/our fault for pestering them abt [redacted] buttttt whateves.)

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ashintheairlikesnow · 2 years

Note

“I think I need help with this” for Rafael pls??🥺👀

"So what do you think?" Rafael looks up at Jake from where he sits on the small little bench between rows of shoes, trying on a pair of basic black sneakers. The big man looks tired - but they all do, the three men who more or less seem to be always be in charge. Jake more than anyone else, though.

"Um. They're a little too small," Raf says carefully, shifting his foot, kind of moving it in a circle before he stands up. The shoe squeezes painfully tight along the sides and the end, so he sits back down again. "I think I need the next size up."

His master and mistress had shoes custom-made for his measurements, and he'd had no idea what size he was. He'd just kept wearing the shoes he ran away in. But Jake suggested these tennis shoes, which would help him fit in better.

"Okay. You want to practice asking for help in public, or should I do it?" Jake smiles at him. No judgement, voice low.

Rafael shifts, looking down at his hands on the bench, his black jeans and black shirt. Thinks about getting someone's attention in a store, and telling her what she's given him first isn't right, he wants - he deserves - the right thing.

His face heats at the idea and he clears his throat. "If-... if you would-"

"No problem. Just give me a second." Jake steps away, and Rafael overhears him, muffled from distance, saying I think I need help with this- to some customer service person, cheery and chipper.

Rafael takes the too-small shoe back off and sets it carefully in the box. Tissue paper rustles as he closes it back up and places it back on the shelf, half-hopping with one bare foot to do it.

"... oh, it's you," Someone says just off to his right, and he turns-

And he's eye-to-eye with one of the ones he used to go home with, when he was in the last safehouse. He's used to seeing the guy with short shorts and a tank top and a lazy, half-eager smile. But now he's in a polo shirt and long pants and shocked, and Rafael might not even recognize him except for his hair.

"Shit. We all thought you were refurbed," The guy says, voice low. He's always had Rafael call him Rei, but he has everyone call him something different. "Are you-... are you here with-"

"I'm in a n-new house," Rafael says, almost whispering. "I-I left-... I was kicked out of the other one. For..."

Rei smiles, wry and faded and sad. "For seeing us? You got caught?"

Rafael's throat tries to close and he slowly nods. He feels... naked, in a way he's never felt when he actually is naked. Rei and the others saw him in a way no one else did, weeping and begging for physical touch when he was denied it everywhere else and couldn't keep his head on straight.

"I'm sorry," Rei says, and looks to one side. Rafael watches his dark eyes flicker left and then back again, and Raf follows his gaze to see the perky young manager chatting with Jake, her head slightly to one side. She's flirting - Jake, Rafael thinks, hasn't noticed. Maybe won't notice.

Rafael can always tell when someone's flirting.

He's an expert on flirting.

"No, it's okay. It's... here is better. Where I am now, I mean. It's so much better. You remember, the one time when I told you about the guy in the museum who told me to call? I'm, I'm in his safehouse now. It's better. Are you-... are you not-"

Rei laughs, almost soundless. He shakes his head and moves forward, and Rafael takes in a soft breath. For a second, he hopes - ridiculous as it is - that he'll be kissed. No one really kisses him anymore. Not even Chris, who comes as close as anyone does, but holds back. And that's-... that's okay...

He... misses how it felt to be twisted up inside, though. When it was good, it felt like how he was always meant to feel. But when it wasn't...

It was worth running because of when it wasn't.

Still...

But there's no kiss. All Rei does is move past him, patting him on the arm. "I've got three jobs," He says, with a shrug. "This is one of 'em. I'm glad that you found somewhere good for you, though." He smiles, more sincerely this time. Presses his fingertips to his own lips, and then moves his hand to the side of Rafael's face. "Glad you don't need us anymore."

"You could go to a safehouse," Rafael says, in a rush. He grabs at Rei's hand, startling him. Kisses those fingertips himself. It's not right, it's not-... normal, but he can't stop himself. "You don't have to work so hard, you don't-"

"Not everyone's cut out for the safehouses," Rei says, kind but firm, and pulls his hand back away. "Trust me. You're better off here, but I wouldn't be."

"What?" Rei starts to walk away, and Rafael stares after him. "Why?"

Rei doesn't turn back.

"Because not everyone can be saved."

#rafael is no one's saint #microfiction #angst #bbu #box boy universe #box boy #implied past dubcon #implied past noncon

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kim-poce · 1 year

Text

5. Alex and Neo: Vase

So, for some reason, the original chapter vanished from tumblr so I'm reposting it.

Previous | Next Masterlist

CW: pet whump, caretaker new master, implied past noncon, flashback, choking, fear of punishment, fear of future noncon, it as a pronoun.

=-=

It was the flower vase on the corner of a hallway Neo had never gone to that caused it. It was yellowish, the color of sand under the sunrise, identical to Former Master’s one. The very one vase in the corner of the bedroom. He’ll never forget the countless times he stared at that vase while the hands touched his body, maybe if he focused on that vase master would be done faster. Maybe he would blink and it was all over.

What was he doing in Former Master’s room, again? Why is Former Master there? No. No Former Master, only Master; Pet had never another master, it was always Master Ash and Master Ash only. Why are there chains on the bed, again? Had Pet done something wrong again?

Useless mutt.

But Pet doesn't want those chains, those that cut his flesh raw every time master moves. He doesn't want to, doesn't want to, he wants to be beaten up, that’s better, no hands over his body, no one touching him.

———

“Neo, what are you doing here?” Alex asked as here walked out of his office. “Neo?”

The boy was staring blankly at a corner when Alex saw his hands moving and thought he had listened, but to his surprise, he punched himself on the arm, where he was already hurt.

“NEO!” Alex called louder, careful to not yell at him. “Look at me, Neo.”

Neo punched himself again and again until Alex has no choice but to grab both his arms, Neo’s mind seemed far away, too far for Alex to reach. “NEO!” Alex shook him, but this only made the younger man breathe uneasily.

———

Hands... Neo halted, too late.

He should have hurt himself earlier, so he would be too dirty, but that was too late now, the hands were already there to grab him, to hurt him, to touch him. Would he be used right there? Does master have guests over today too? Will he share his dirty toy today too?

Neo looked at the man in front of him, is he Master? His face seems blurry, drugs, he was sure of that, he was always an unruly dog, obviously master would drug him this time, last time he fought after all, he didn’t remember the last time exactly, but he must have fought, and master must be so angry.

A headache. A memory, Master is covered in blood, Master is dead, such a weak master, is it the drug? Is he hallucinating? Or is Master really weak? Master hurt him so many times, master can’t be weak, right? So those are the drugs, right?

More headache, the same vase, the same bedroom, and the same chain, but now a girl, who is this girl? Why are they hurting the girl? No, you can’t, hurt me instead. Did the drug kick in again or did I punch master? It’s okay, master will punish me now, right? Master will let her go, she will go, she will be safe.

But… who is she? I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I DON’T FUCKING KNOW.

———

“Neo,” Alex tried desperately to bring him back, “Why are you crying?” He tried to shake him, yell at him, call him softly, what is he supposed to do? Why is he shaking, why isn’t he breathing?

“Neo, breathe with me, come on.” Alex's pleas were backing fire, and he was almost unable to breathe himself. “Let’s breathe, please, breathe, breathe with me.”

———

Master grabbed the girl's hair, yanking her head back. Before it could think, Pet had already punched master, he had to keep him away from her. He threw another punch causing Master to fall and two large men to grab this unruly mutt’s arms. Master was so angry, Pet had been bad again, and pet would be punished again, it is sorry, it is sorry.

“...neo…”

Another headache. There is something in his hands? Something soft.

“...eo…”

A throat, master’s throat, master? no, Former Master’s throat, but Former Master is dead, isn’t them? Master Alex killed them.

"Breath, please,” Master said.

Master Alex is in front of him. Why is his face almost blue? A chill ran down the pet’s back with the realization that it was choking master. He let go of him immediately, when did he do it? why? Master will get angry, Pet will be punished, but being punished is good right? there is something good about it, Pet just doesn’t know what.

“S-s-sorry… I…” Pet tried, Master would break his fingers for sure, one after another, slowly, and pet deserved it. “I….”

“It’s okay, just breathe” Master's voice was agitated, but that was an order, a weird one, but an order. “You are doing great, keep it like that.” Pet, no, Neo breathed in. “That’s right, now out.” Master breathed along.

Neo doesn’t know how long they keep breathing, but after some time Former Master was not there anymore, and the girl had escaped, Master’s hands on Neo’s pulse was hurting, but that is okay, hurting is good.

Master will punish Neo for hurting him, he’ll be beaten bloody to learn his lesson, and after it, Master won’t touch him, because he’ll be far too dirty to be touched.

=-=

@doodlepoodle154 (btw do you want to be in the taglist for new chapters?)

#whump #pet whump #caretaker new master #implied past noncon #flashback #choking #it as a pronoun #alex and neo #alex #neo #my writing #whump fic #not a reblog

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flowersarefreetherapy · 3 months

Text

My Love Is Mine All Mine

CW: hospital setting, character death, mourning, unhealthy relationships, pet whump, brief violence, implied past violence, implied past noncon, brief mention of disordered eating, begging, sexually degrading language, self harm (not graphic or a lot, but it in here), self-blame

The heart monitor beeps out a steady rhythm, one Cameron finds himself counting in a desperate attempt to hold on to hope. His tailbone goes numb and he shifts on the cold plastic chair, trying to move as little as possible.

Angelina and Andrew don’t pay attention to him. She sits at her father’s bedside, Andrew’s hand on her thigh, scrolling through Instagram. Emmaleigh slumps on the chair next to Cameron, eyes glued to her iPad screen. Lucas, Angelina’s brother, just left, saying something about talking to a lawyer and coming back at a later time. Cameron doesn’t want to pay attention. He wants to be at Patrick’s side, curled up close like he is supposed to be. Not trapped in a corner of the room with a literal child.

“Mom!” Emmaleigh whines. “I’m hungry!”

Angelina’s gaze remains locked on her phone. “Andrew, would you take her to get some food? I don’t want to leave Father.”

Andrew nods. “Come on, Emma. Let’s go get something from the cafe.”

“No! I want McDonald’s!”

Cameron rolls his eyes. Of course she wants McDonald’s. Maybe they could bring some back and he could try the fries? They look so good on the television and he’s wanted to try them for years. Patrick never let him. That much grease and fast food ruins his figure. Cameron knows this.

But you won’t have to worry about what you eat much longer, will you?

No. Patrick is going to be okay. This is just a small cold. It’s nothing awful. He’s strong and has good lungs and whatever the doctors say, they’re wrong. They don’t know his master like he does.

Andrew gives in, as he always does. Soon it is just Cameron and Angelina in the room with Patrick. She still isn’t paying him any attention. Nor is she looking at Patrick. Cameron swallows back a scream. This is her father in the hospital and she doesn’t care! He cares! He could take better care of Patrick than anyone here!

The chair creaks as Cameron stands and walks over to the hospital bed. He moves softly, relying on all his training to stay as quiet as possible. Angelina doesn’t look up. Cameron perches on the edge of the bed and takes Patrick’s hand. It feels so much weaker than he remembers. Thin, papery skin and fragile bones when he remembers a strong, unwavering grip pushing the knife through his skin.

Cameron swallows back a sob and curls up next to his master. There’s barely any room on the bed, but he folds his knees close to his chest, resting his head on Patrick’s chest. He can hear every breath rattle in his lungs. It’s alright, there’s medicine and monitors and this will be okay. His master is strong. He can survive this.

Angelina scoffs, but doesn’t move him from the bed. Cameron is grateful for the small blessing. The sterile air of a hospital burns his nose, bringing back other memories. He squeezes his eyes shut against the white light, grabbing his master’s hand.

You aren’t there. You aren’t there. You have a master. Someone chose you, remember? You weren’t abandoned.

The beeping and shallow breathing pulls him into a half-wake trance. Cameron’s eyelids grow heavy. For a moment, he’s back in their bed, the thick comforter keeping him down as his master shifts next to him. He’ll be awake soon. Will it be the knife? Or the ropes? Or maybe just round after round that will leave him bleeding in the shower? A shudder of pleasure slips down Cameron’s spine at the thought.

Fingers dig into his shoulder. Yanking him from the bed. Cameron cries out as his head hits the wall, a blow hard enough to blur his vision. He blinks hard. White coats and shouting, so much shouting. Drawn out beeps. Light glints off a needle and Cameron flinches. He folds himself in a corner, hugging his knees tightly to his chest.

“Please, please, please, I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’ll be good, I’ll be better, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry, so sorry.”

Where is his master? Where is he? Why hasn’t he come for him? Cameron blinks back tears. It’ll be okay. Patrick will get him. He’ll pick him up and kiss him, tasting like whiskey and cigars, and he’ll be safe. Cameron knows he’s safe. He hasn’t been sent back there. He’s been too good for his master to have that happen.

Silence. Emmaleigh crying. Angelina stands stiffly, expressionless. Cameron uncurls, ignoring the annoyed looks from the doctors. They’ve hated him from the moment he was brought here. It doesn’t matter to him anyway.

“. . . what happened?” he whispers.

Emmaleigh cries harder. The iPad lays forgotten on that stupid chair. Cameron crawls to the edge of the hospital bed. It’s too quiet.

Don’t look. Don’t ask. You know. Just sit in the corner and hope they forget about you. Don’t make this worse than it already is.

His master’s face is lax and pale, a shade Cameron has only seen once before. A Guard trainee who was supposed to show him his place, only to die overnight from what the handlers called internal bleeding. He’s seen death before. He knows what it looks like. But it doesn’t happen to those he loves. It isn’t supposed to happen to his master.

“Sir?” Cameron whispers, grabbing his master’s hand. It’s cold. Bile burns the back of his throat. “Sir, please, say something. I-please don’t leave me!”

“Get away from my father, whore!” Angelina’s nails scrap across his scalp as she pulls him away. Cameron yelps, scrambling to ease the sudden pain. “Don’t you dare pretend you cared about him! All you cared about was who would fuck you!”

“Please!” Cameron sobs. Tears burn down his cheeks. Patrick said he was a pretty crier, that he looked best when he cried. “Please, please, I love him! Please, let me say goodbye!”

Angelina shakes his head. His head hits the stupid plastic chair. White explodes across his vision and Cameron swallows back a sob. Angelina’s voice rises, but he can’t hear a single word she says. His knees hurt, his vision blurs from tears and pain, and he can’t draw in a full breath. Cameron stares at the hospital bed, blinking hard. Maybe he can see his master again. One more time.

Then Angelin’s fingers are no longer in his hair. Andrew holds her and Emmaleigh tightly, all three of them crying. Cameron huddles against the wall. He can’t breathe. His chest throbs with pain and no amount of crying lessens it. He curls up again and screams into his knees. Quiet. Patrick prefers–no, preferred. He’s gone now, remember, idiot?--to hear him scream. Loud and painful and Cameron rakes his nails across his skin in an effort to feel the shattering of his heart be mirrored across his skin.

The family slowly collects personal belongings. There’s not a lot. Patrick was sick suddenly. Cameron flinches. This is his fault. If he hadn’t insisted on going ice skating, then Patrick wouldn’t have gotten sick, and this wouldn’t have happened. His fault. His master died because he was a selfish, horrible Pet.

My master’s desires are my own. My master’s desires are my own. My master’s desires are my own. I am not my own. I belong to my master, I belong to my master, I belong to my master.

. . . who do I belong to?

“Get up, slut.”

Andrew grips his arm and hauls him to his feet. Cameron stumbles beside him, suddenly feeling far too cold in his crop top and tights. The nurses and other patients stare at him. For the first time in years, heat creeps up his cheeks and down his neck. He ducks his head and focuses only on the too-white tile under his feet.

It’s odd. Walking outside, hearing traffic, feeling the winter wind against his face, sunlight sparkling off the light dusting of snow that fell overnight–and knowing his master is dead.

Dead.

Cameron chokes on a sob. His master is dead. Gone. Truly gone.

“Shut up,” Andrew snaps. “I don’t know why you’re so weepy. You are nothing but a sidepiece and a bedwarmer. You never cared about him.”

I did! I loved him and he loved me and we were going to have forever! He was never, ever going to leave me!

The words stick in his throat and all Cameron can do is cry. He doesn’t stop, not even when he’s shoved into the backseat of Angelina’s car and told to stay quiet. Emmaleigh’s sobs cover the sound of his own.

We were supposed to have forever.

#cameron #patrick #hospital setting #character death #mourning #unhealthy relationship #pet whump #knife wounds #implied past violence #implied past noncon #begging #sexually degrading language #self-blame #food mention #grief

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justplainwhump · 11 months

Text

Name

Adrian finds a name for Blanca.

[Pet Safety Masterlist]

Content/warnings: BBU, BBU recovery, BBU Romantic, allusions at past noncon, withholding of food mention, new master is caretaker.

She ate the nachos almost reverently. When Adrian remembered he'd made some for himself as well, the sauce on his plate had already cooled down, the hot goodness of it faded. It didn't matter. It had been worth it, seeing her face light up, her eyes close as if dreaming. Maybe she was gone again, in a way, but this time, he was sure it was a good place.

"I always wanted to eat these, too," she said after a while, after she'd devoured at least two servings of Nachos. "Jack likes them on his men's nights. They all had them, with their beer, and it smelled so nice, and I was so hungry." She ran a finger through the remains of the cheese and looked at it thoughtfully. "If I was good, I was allowed to suck the sauce off their fingers."

Adrian's appetite vanished in an instant. He pushed his own plate away, fought back the sickness in his stomach.

She didn't seem to notice, just tipped her head to the side and smiled at him, while licking the cheese from her own finger. "This sauce is much better."

It was a compliment, yet he couldn't even bring himself to mutter a thank you.

Instead, he changed the topic rather abruptly, to something he'd been musing about. "I... I'd like to have a name to call you by."

"An owner is meant to name their pet," she agreed. "It is useful, to make me suit to your needs."

Adrian cocked his head at her. Sometimes she was miles away from her conditioned mindset, enigmatic, almost wise. It made the moments when she behaved according to WRU's conditioning stand out starkly. He wondered what it was that made her tip. Her face betrayed nothing. A professional smile, flirty and a bit coy. Affirmative, like everything he said would be true, whatever it was.

"I..." He all but stuttered. "I would like to find something you like."

"I will like whatever you choose," she said.

She was acting, he thought. It was her good right to. Still, it hurt somewhat.

"Did you like what Jack chose for you?" The question was out before he could stop himself, and he knew his intuition had been right - and that his question had been fucking hurtful - immediately, when a shadow of pain ran over her face. She hid it within the blink of an eye, but it had been there. And it had been his fault.

"Bacardi," she said flatly. "That's what he called me, before I was broken. Then I was Chewtoy."

He'd known it would hurt. Still, his face flushed. He'd been an asshole. He should control himself better. Especially around her.

"I'm sorry."

"I did not like it," she continued. "Not a bit. But it couldn't hurt me. I have my own name."

Adrian flinched. "Do you?"

"When I think of myself, I have a name. A good name. A name someone said to me, filled with love, once." She pulled her legs in and hugged herself. "I don't remember who it was. But I remember that name, and it is mine."

"Wha-" Adrian began, but she silenced him with a single glare.

"It is mine," she repeated sternly. "And I keep it safe."

There was a tiny emphasis on the last word. She was right, he realized. It wasn't safe with anyone. However much he wished himself to be an exception. He was her owner. He was WRU. The company could take away everything. They would, and they had.

He swallowed thickly, before he nodded. "I... I understand."

She smiled a little. "I like you, Adrian Delgado," she said, most sincerely. "I will trust you with the beginning. It is a B."

She said it like 'Beh', not 'Bee'; and it made horrible sense. They'd trained her for perfect English; but there was no need for a pet to ever spell.

He wondered, if numbers were Spanish for her still, too.

He wondered what the B stood for.

He shouldn't. That name was hers, like nothing else was.

"Thank you," he replied, just as sincere. "I will honor it."

She nodded silently.

Adrian considered her for a while. He wanted to call her by a name, a respectful one, to stop referencing to her by a number, or worse, 'pet', or the utterly horrible 'chewtoy'. She wouldn't help him. Still, he thought about what he could do to be true to his word. To honor her trust.

"Bea," he suggested eventually. A bit like the letter, but more - a real name, more than a pet name. Spanish enough, to honor that part of her, hopefully not so bad as to cause her pain.

It didn't seem to. She frowned, her lips moving as if she was trying it out for herself, and he could see a slow smile spreading on her lips.

"Yes, Sir," she said. "Yes. Bea. It is a good name." She pronounced it just as he did, without a flinch, without pain. With a bit of joy, even.

"I will like to be Bea for you, Master Adrian."

He bit his lip, remembering her distinction. "Would you... would you be Bea for Adrian Delgado, too?"

She smiled, almost enigmatic. "For now."

She inched closer to him and tilted her head, in an unspoken question.

Adrian lifted his arm, and she curled up to his side. "No kissing," she whispered. "No fucking. But cuddling... is allowed?"

"Yes," he said softly, overwhelmed with how true his words felt. "Yes. Cuddling with you would... in fact, it would make me very happy." He looked down on her head resting to his chest, inhaled the scent of her hair. "Bea."

"Bea," she repeated. "Thank you, Sir."

Neither of them said anything else for a while. Eventually, he felt her body slump against his, her breath become softer, her heartbeat slower, as she fell asleep.

Adrian leaned back on the couch, one arm slung around his sleeping pet, and once again he wondered, what the hell he was getting himself into.

---

tag list: @gottawhump @flowersarefreetherapy @whumplr-reader @highwaywhump @tauntedoctopuses @pigeonwhumps @whumppsychology @labgrowndemon

#bbu #bbu recovery #bbu romantic #recovery #adrian #blanca #pet safety series #implied past noncon

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darkthingshappen · 2 years

Text

Brother's Keeper: The Power of Music

This is a thank you all of my followers. I have now reached 300!!!! I had several requests for Ben fluffy. But I am me, so this fluff is... angsty. It's fluffy angst. Flangst™️.

I can't believe this many of y'all follow me for this. It's so much fun being on this hell site with all of you. I will try to write some actual fluffy fluff for my sweet Ben at some point, but there's so much fun pain in the current arc that I still have to deal with. Hahahahaha

As always, I'd like to say a HUGE thank you to the wonderful @whumpcereal for her amazing job betaing my story and poking and prodding where needed to make me a better writer. This story wouldn't be what it is with out her pushing me to "give" more.

Content warnings: nothing explicit, but a lot of alluded to or implied past trauma including implied past noncon.

Lastly, I have included links to some Youtube music in case you are not familiar with the songs mentioned in this piece or if you just wanna listen along while you read. They can be found at the end of the piece.

Tagging List: @i-can-even-burn-salad @peachy-panic @deluxewhump @arwenadreamer @whumpcereal @melancholy-in-the-morning @dont-touch-my-soup @whumpsday @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @oddsconvert @melennui @susiequaz12 @morning-star-whump @crystalquartzwhump @whump-and-other-things @mylifeisonthebookshelf @reflected-pain @hold-him-down @quietshae @sparrowsage @quietly-by-myself @no-terms-and-conditions-apply (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this)

Ben laid curled up in a ball on his bed in the psychiatric hospital he’d been brought to upon his rescue from Volkov. It hadn’t been what they had all hoped for. The Adkins family had wanted to bring him straight home, but the intensity, frequency, and severity of his flashbacks had made that impossible. So now, he was in an unfamiliar, sterile room in a near catatonic state. He was safe, but he wasn’t home.

Maria Adkins silently wondered if her youngest son would ever fully come home. She sat in the chair next to his bed, but she didn’t reach for him. They had to be so cautious with being near him, let alone touching him. The boy she’d dreamed about wrapping in her arms for the entirety of his captivity couldn’t stand to be touched. His eyes were open most of the day, they seemed to see everything and nothing all at the same time.

There would be long stretches where he stared at the wall and rocked back and forth. Other times his eyes darted around the room seeing terrors only he could see. Ben had always been so bright and joyful, but now his soft brown eyes were haunted. Would he ever come out from behind the walls he’d built around his mind? Yes, he’d survived, but he wasn’t living, not yet anyway. He’d shut himself away in his own head just so that he’d be able to cope with the trauma he’d had to endure.

How long had he spent cooped up in that awful cage that she’d seen pictures of? Her husband had tried to shield her, but she had to know. She’d snuck into his office and flipped through the files. She’d stopped when she saw the chains attached to that monster’s bed frame.

How was she supposed to get through to him after the horror’s he’d been forced to endure? She wanted nothing more than to pull him into her arms and hold him like she did when he was a small child, but it was the one thing she couldn’t do. Her baby was lost. He was here, but he was utterly lost. They needed a lifeline that would help him find his way back home from wherever he was in his head. That’s why she’d asked Zoe to come today. She only hoped it would help.

There was a soft knock at the door. It opened with a click, and Zoe’s bright red head poked in.

Mrs. Adkins smiled at her. “Hey, honey, thanks for coming.”

“Of course,” Zoe whispered, coming into the small room, a large black case on her back. “I’m happy to help. How is he doing today?”

Maria smiled at the young woman. Benny and Zoe had been thick as thieves since they were sixteen-years-old. Maria adored Zoe; she was a good match for her boy. They were both academically gifted, but Zoe had spirit, which kept Ben on his toes. He needed that.

“Mostly the same. A lot of rocking today. I wish I knew what he was seeing.”

She smiled sadly at Zoe. They were so young, almost children still. They shouldn’t be dealing with this level of evil. They should be studying and debating the great mysteries of life. They should be figuring out who they were. Zoe was wholly dedicated to Ben. She’d, at a minimum, stopped by at least once a day every day since he’d come home. The first visit had been the hardest. Like they had all accidentally done, she’d reached out and combed her fingers through his hair before anyone could stop her, and he’d devolved into a flashback and full on panic attack. Zoe had left sobbing into Jake’s shoulder while he tried to tell her it was okay, that it wasn’t her fault.

Maria half-expected Zoe to be afraid to come back. She’d spoken to Zoe’s mother, and it was evident they thought their daughter should try to move on. But they were good people and would trust their daughter. They didn’t want her to be hurt, and Ben’s disappearance had hurt more deeply than anything else Zoe had ever gone through.

Maria was a mom, she understood. But Zoe was a lover. When she came the next day, there was a fierceness in her eyes that Maria recognized in her own expression. Zoe was in it for the long haul. Ben was hers, and she wasn’t about to let go. Maria approved.

Zoe’s eyes moved to Ben’s curled up form. Her red eyebrows knit together in concern. “Yeah, but I think whatever it is he’s seeing must be pretty scary. Ben was never afraid of much. He was always so protective of me. I can’t imagine how bad things got to make him like this.”

Things had gotten bad. Zoe didn’t know the half of it. Maria hoped she never would, but she had a feeling that the determined little Irish girl in front of her would find out, one way or another. Maria wished to God that she could shield her, shield them both, but despite the fact that she still saw them as children, they weren’t. Not anymore. There was an innocence that that monster had stolen from both of them.

“You brought your cello?” Maria asked.

“Just like you asked. You really think it’ll help?”

“You know how much he loved hearing and watching you play.”

Zoe blushed slightly. “I loved playing for him. He was my biggest cheerleader.” Zoe laughed softly at a memory. “He cheered like he was at a Penguins game. The rest of the audience would be politely applauding and he’d be on the first row, whistling and cheering.” Her expression grew wistful as her eyes darted back to him. “You know I always told him I hated that and that it embarrassed me. But, all it took was one concert without it for me to know I really loved it.” Her voice was suddenly quiet. “I’ve barely played since then. I missed two recitals. I just couldn’t do it without him there. It was too quiet.”

Zoe wiped a stray tear off her cheek. “He was always there for me, since we were sixteen. Maybe this can help me be there for him.”

Mrs. Adkins rubbed Zoe’s back. “If this doesn’t work, it’s okay. It’s not on you, honey, to bring him back. You’ve been hurt through all this too. We all have.” She gave Zoe’s shoulder a squeeze. “It doesn’t change the fact that you love him and he loves you.”

Zoe swallowed and nodded.

“Here. You take the chair, and get set up. I’ll be back in a bit and I’ll see if I can get another chair in here.” She patted Zoe’s shoulder again and stepped out of the room.

*!*!*!*!*

Zoe’s hands shook a little as she set up her cello. She set the endpin in the rest stop and then rosined her bow. She gazed at Ben, curled up in the fetal position and rocking slightly. Most of the time his eyes were open, but every now and then he would squeeze his eyes shut and his body would shake with some horrible memory that he couldn’t cope with. Zoe suspected much about what had happened to him.

Whether this worked or not, she was determined to find out. She couldn’t help him if she didn’t know. She knew Ben’s parents would never tell her. But Jake might be persuaded. Or intimidated. Zoe wasn’t above emotional manipulation if it meant she could help Ben. She loved Jake like a brother, but she wasn’t blind. Jake was the connection to that monster and why Ben had been taken in the first place. He owed her, and Ben.

“Hey, Benny.” She angled her body and cello slightly, so that she was able to see him full on with her back to the door of the room. “I learned a new song that you haven’t heard me play before. It’s the only thing I’ve felt since you’ve been gone. I missed you, bestie. It’s been so quiet without you. So, here we go…”

The mournful strains of Simon and Garfunkel’s “The Sound of Silence” soon filled the room. The notes were deep to begin with, but on a cello, there was no comparison as the rich tones of the music resounded from the walls. By the time she got to the line, silence like a cancer grows, Zoe’s tears were coursing down her cheeks and dripping off her chin to run down the length of her cello. She poured every ounce of the loss she’d felt during all the time that Ben was gone into that melody.

Zoe had panicked when her small touch had sent Ben spiraling. She worried it was a rejection of her. But Jake had explained that he’d reacted the same to each of them. Touch-averse was the word he said the doctors used. Touch-averse. The man who was always so tender and affectionate with her. The man who held her hand when they walked to the park, the man who was always ready to throw his arms around her. The man that was always her support, physically and mentally, was touch-averse. It had seemed like a cruel cosmic joke at first. Her parents had told her it was okay if she moved on. They told her the Ben from before was most likely gone. They weren’t wrong, Ben would never be the same. But that was true for all of them. Zoe would never be the same either, and she didn’t want to be–she had to move forward with Ben.

Zoe poured everything she had into reading up on touch averse therapies and long term recovery options. It was too soon to tell if this would be lasting. And Zoe loved Ben more than anything in the whole world. And when you love something, you fight for it. So she came back, day after day after day.

When she finished the song, the deafening silence echoed back at her from every corner of the room as last notes fluttered in the air.

Quietly, Mrs. Adkins stepped back into the room, wiping her own tears. The two women understood each other. Zoe took a deep breath and started the next tune. In her head she sang, softly and sweetly, Joyful joyful we adore thee, God of Glory, Lord of Love; Hearts unfold like flow’rs before thee, op’ning to the sun above. Melt the clouds of sin and sadness, drive the dark of doubt away. Giver of immortal gladness, fill us with the light of day.

This was one of Ben’s favorite hymns. He’d always loved the simplicity of it. The tune, the words, the hope. He thought they were beautiful. She’d laughed the first time she’d scrolled through his music and found no less than twelve versions of the same hymn. Fast ones, slow ones, classical versions, a version from a popular 90’s movie. It didn’t seem to matter, Ben loved them all. He was no singer, but as they grew up and grew closer, Zoe loved to hear him frequently humming this sweet melody. If he was feeling silly, he might belt it out at the top of his lungs. It was his go-to happy tune. Zoe suspected his mother had something to do with that.

Zoe played. She sang through every verse. She wasn’t sure exactly when Mrs. Adkins joined in, but her sweet voice filled the room mingling with the lovely chords dancing under Zoe’s fingers. Together, they both sang the final verse of the song, Ever singing, march we onward, victors in the midst of strife. Joyful music leads us sunward, in the triumph song of life.

Slowly, Zoe finished out the notes, but her eyes weren’t on her cello, they were on Ben’s. They were clear, and he was watching her. At some point, his lips had started moving along with the words of the song. Zoe made a snap decision and kept playing. She’d already played through the whole thing once, but she couldn’t let him retreat. Not when he was here in this moment. She played it over again, the entire glorious hymn.

Mrs. Adkins sat on the floor next to Ben’s bed, her hand resting softly on the sheet beside him. Ben’s hand moved slightly from where it had been curled up under his chin to just next to his mother’s hand. Their fingers brushed slightly, and he didn’t pull away. Zoe watched with tear- filled eyes as Maria moved her fingers over his, slowly and gently, and held his hand. They both held their breath for a second and then released when he made no move to pull away. Zoe could see the tears trickling down her cheeks. Ben didn’t talk, but he looked between the two of them while he mouthed the words. Zoe smiled at him while her fingers sang the tune. When she finally did reach the end of the song, and the gentle notes still hung in the air, she looked at Ben.

“Hi, it’s good to see you again. I’ve really missed you.”

Ben had tears in his eyes, and they spilled down his cheek at her words. His lips started to move, but he didn’t make a sound. Zoe smiled at him.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything right now. You just rest so you can heal. I’ll keep playing.”

He gave her a weak half-smile.

Zoe’s fingers started to move again, and the delicate notes of “Brahms' Lullaby” filtered through the room. Mrs. Adkins hummed along; Zoe remembered her saying that she used to hum that song to him when he was a baby. Like “Ode to Joy,” she continued to play as she watched Ben grow sleepy, his eyes drooping, but for once not filled with terrors, but soft memories and safety. Soon, he was sleeping, real sleep, a sleep that was deep and natural.

Zoe played long after he’d fallen asleep, in an attempt to ward off the nightmares that so often disturbed his slumber. She played through suites, opuses, odes, and lullabies. It was the longest concert she’d ever performed, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way. Ben had been home, really home, even if just for a few minutes. It was progress.

She was utterly exhausted when she packed up her cello hours later. But the exhaustion was tempered with satisfaction. It had worked. They’d successfully drawn him out from behind the walls he’d hidden behind.

Mrs. Adkins enfolded her in a mother’s embrace. “Thank you for this, Zoe. I think we can see a little light at the end of the tunnel. Just a bit.”

“I hope so. I’ll come back tomorrow and play some more.”

“That would be great. Get some rest. I’m sure that was tiring.”

“Worth every ache just to see him look at me for real.”

“Yes. Me too.”

Zoe walked over to Ben and dared to touch his shoulder. He was sleeping soundly and did not stir. She started to lean down to kiss him and glanced at his mom for permission. Mrs. Adkins was still sitting next to him, still holding his hand. The older woman smiled warmly at her and nodded.

Zoe leaned down and gently pressed her lips to Ben’s temple. Her fingers grazed the deep scar over his cheekbone where he’d clearly been beaten.

“I love you, Benny Bear,” she whispered into his ear. She stood and gathered her music, stand, and instrument. It took her a few minutes to get everything packed away.

“See you tomorrow, Mrs. Adkins,” Zoe said, with a yawn as she shrugged her cello bag onto her back.

“Yes, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow. I know he can’t say it right now, but he loves you very much.”

“I know. But thank you for telling me. I hope you know how much I love him.”

She would have given anything to hear Ben say it, but knowing his mother knew it meant she could wait until he could say it himself again. And he would. She was certain of that. She might not know the timeline, but she would get him back. There was no world in which Maria and Zoe wouldn’t fight with all they had to pull him back from the brink of the nightmare world he was trapped in.

“Oh, I know how you feel,” Mrs. Adkins said. “You’re so good with him. I know it’s hard, but you’re doing great.”

Zoe smiled at this. “So are you.”

They both shared a sad, but hopeful smile with each other before Zoe turned for the door.

*!*!*!*!*

Mrs. Adkins watched the young woman leave.

“Benny, my boy. I know you think you hid that ring where I couldn’t find it.” She delicately ran her thumb along the back of Ben’s hand. “But you picked the perfect girl. She’s amazing, and I truly hope I get to see the two of you married one day.”

Mrs. Adkins settled in a bit more comfortably on the bed and returned to humming Brahms’ Lullaby. She didn't let go of Ben’s hand.

*!*!*!*!*

Ben sighed in his sleep. In his dreams, he drifted back in his memories to a time before Volkov and all the horror. He ran his fingers along the glass countertops of the jewelry store.

That one! That was it. He pointed down to a delicate band of white gold; Zoe didn’t like yellow or rose gold. The band was simple, but the diamond set was ornate. It was surrounded with multiple different types of green gemstones - emerald, peridot, tourmaline, green sapphire, and kiwi topaz. It was perfect. The multiple shades of green reflected the deep clear green of her eyes.

Ben smiled broadly as he made his choice. He was ready, or as ready as he’d ever be, to propose to his girl. He glanced out the window to the bright sunny afternoon and whooshed out a nervous breath. This was it. He was really doing it. He was buying an engagement ring.

He’d known it was Zoe from the minutes he’d seen her. Maybe not literally, but it felt like that. They just fit together - they got each other. As he was handed the ring in its little box, he couldn’t help but hum his favorite hymn. He walked out the door with “Ode to Joy” on his lips.

Somewhere in the air above him as he headed for the park, he heard the notes of Brahms' Lullaby drifting through the air.

Ben sighed contentedly in his sleep, his fingers flexing to grip his mother’s. For once, his dreams were happy and the pain was forgotten, held at bay by the music he knew was just for him.

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