#cw home invasion

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

For Wednesday words, Tonight, Breath and/or Step

Thank you my kind friend :)

Tonight from Dear Leslie:

Leslie wasn’t his father, and he prided himself on that. He would never treat his children the way his own father treated him, but Jamie was a tougher nut to crack. Higgins wasn’t sure Jamie would be open to his usual brand of parenting. Jamie’s sharp edges could cut through even the strongest metal, whereas Leslie’s edges were soft and moldable like Play-Doh. But maybe Jamie didn’t need a parent. Maybe tonight Jamie just needed a safe place, a friend and a dog to snuggle.

Breath from the home invasion fic:

Jamie fell to a painful heap on the floor, willing his breathing back to normal and to ignore the new level of pain, but his breath just came in painful, short huffs. A boot connected with his midsection then, and Jamie’s vision went white before he curled in on himself, wheezing heavily in pain.  “Get him up.”

Step (a bit long because I wasn't sure where to cut for context) from you inherit the sins, you inherit the flames:

Her first instinct was to blame Rupert—and then her father. If her father hadn’t treated her mother like less than an equal, would she have been blinded by Rupert’s attention? If Rupert hadn’t made her feel so little, would she have tried to make herself feel bigger by playing with the lives of others? Maybe those were all fair questions, but her actions were still her own.  Divorce is hard. Hurt people hurt people. Rupert is a horrible man who built an ivory tower he kept you captive in, but you climbed every step of that tower on your own. She climbed every step, but the man who locked her in that tower wasn't the one she climbed it for. Still, if she wanted to end the hurt, end the cycle that started within her on that dark day in September, she had to take accountability. She could blame her father, she could blame Rupert, she could blame Jamie’s father, and she did, but as she sat there and looked at the devastated face of Jamie Tartt, she didn’t want to blame anyone else.

She wanted to take responsibility. She wanted to be the woman she was before she lost her father the first time. Before she gave in to a married man's advances.  She wanted to be the person Keeley Jones thought she was. She wanted to be the person Sam thought she was.  “I tried to destroy a monster, so I became one, and I didn’t care if I fed you to a different one to destroy mine."

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives: Arc 1

This is a long-form story with 36 parts and 68k words (unless I rewrite the ending again. Don't let me do that). It’s about a team working for a government agency that is tasked with hunting and capturing vampires, the Vampire Investigations Unit, or VIU (said like ‘view’).

When a captured vampire escapes and attacks researcher Simon McKenna and their team captain wants to cover it up, agents Matthew Beck and Gina Ruiz must help Simon recover alone, and in the process uncover his dark past. And that's just the first arc - things get wilder from there! This story contains elements of SA/noncon, but in this arc the worst is offscreen backstory. 

Part 1: I Should Have Seen This Coming

~3130 words (A double feature! Most chapters are around half this length)

CW: Negative self-talk, anxiety, home invasion, vampire whumper, vampire feeding, attempted noncon, noncon kiss, broken bones, head injury

Next, Masterlist

~~~

They got the call while they were headed for the processing facility, the vampire in their custody.

Christian Isles, a gruff man in his 50s and their team captain, listened to his cell with a furrowed brow before twisting around in his passenger seat to announce to the three others in the van:

“Processing center is overwhelmed. Some big bust over on the north side. We’re taking him home with us for a few hours.”

Matthew Beck, the pale, husky agent in the driver’s seat, looked in the rearview at the armored vehicle following them. It contained the latest capture by their Vampire Investigation Unit - or VIU - team, Edward Finch. The vampire had fought like hell before suddenly surrendering, putting them all on edge.

“Are you sure we can hold him?” Matthew asked, “I know a previous assessment had him at grade C, but after that fight -”

“We can hold him,” Captain Isles declared, “And it won’t be for long.”

The two young women in the backseat, agents Amber Wynn and Gina Ruiz, glanced at each other. They were familiar with their captain’s ‘we’ll-do-it-ourselves’ attitude and knew that this meant they’d be awake even longer than they already had been. No other team would be called to assist.

“You gonna radio Simon about that, Cap?” Amber asked, looking back to her boss.

“Yeah, yeah,” Isles huffed, “He’s not going to like this.” He grabbed the transmitter off the dashboard and clicked it on

“McKenna, processing is backed up, we can’t take Finch there yet. We have to hold him at base until they’re ready.”

A moment of silence passed, and Matthew could hardly imagine what Simon was thinking. The whole team knew their researcher had… history, but only Captain Isles knew the full extent. Given the events of today…

“Seriously?” The response finally crackled out of the radio.

“Yeah, seriously,” Isles replied, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice, “and he’ll be completely under control. We'll take care of everything, you can just… make yourself scarce.”

“Captain, I don’t have much up-to-date information on him, are you sure our facilities can hold -”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

There was another pause, as if Simon was debating whether to add his next comment.

“He surrendered after he heard my voice on the radio. Are you sure -”

“It’s fine, McKenna!” Isles snapped, “Just hole up in your room, you don’t have to come out until he’s gone, alright?”

“Yeah… yeah,” said Simon, cowed, “Please take every precaution.”

Matthew finally butted in on his own radio. He didn’t have the guts to talk back to Isles directly, but he tried to be on Simon’s side when the Captain’s harsh nature got the better of him, as it often did with Simon.

“McKenna, we will follow every protocol, alright? You can even come and check that we’ve done everything correctly.”

“Thanks, Beck, but I’ll stay out of the way.”

Captain Isles returned the transmitter to the dash with an air of finality.

Amber leaned forward in her seat, eyes narrowed at Isles.

“Captain, I get that he’s a couple years younger than the rest of us, but telling him to go to his room is pushing it a bit, yeah?” 

“He’s the only one that has a room, if any of you lived on-base I’d be sending you to your room all the time too!” Isles joked.

Amber sat back, clearly deciding to not push it further. Gina, ever the silent type, rolled her eyes at Amber, eliciting a small laugh from the other woman. Isles chose to believe it was for him.

~~~

Captain Isles radioed the armored truck, informing the final member of their team, Devon Barre, as well as the VIU truck driver, of their change of plans. When the two vehicles arrived at the VIU base - an imposing brutalist building in the heart of DC, four stories tall with subterranean levels to match - the transfer of Finch from the truck to the small cellblock went smoothly. The vampire was still mostly sedated from his initial capture. 

The cellblock had four B-grade certified cells on floor -1, small metal-plated rooms outfitted with a cot and toilet each. The only points of entry were a ceiling air vent too narrow to even think about crawling through, and the heavy metal door with a small reinforced glass window.

Matthew peered in through the window at Finch, dumped unceremoniously on the cot inside. The vampire’s long limbs dangled off the thin mattress, and his previously perfect blond hair stuck up in disarray. The sight gave Matthew a sense of satisfaction - another vampire, off the streets. He jumped when Captain Isles clapped his hands together.

“Well! I know you’re all tired after chasing this scum all night, but we’re not done yet.” He scanned their group, honing in on who looked the most awake.

“Wynn, you stay here on guard.”

Amber’s shoulders slumped a little as Isles continued.

“I know, I know, but we promised to take extra precautions, right? Everyone else, go take care of your gear, shower, get some sleep. Beck, I want you back here to relieve Wynn in an hour.”

Matthew nodded.

“Yessir.”

He shot Amber a sympathetic glance as she settled onto the bench outside the cell door. She waved halfheartedly as the rest of them headed for the locker rooms. Along the way, Matthew took a detour to their team’s communications room, but found the workstation empty. Captain Isles stepped in behind him, resting a hand on Matthew’s shoulder.

“He’ll be alright, Beck. Better to give him his space, yeah?”

Matthew nodded, reluctant.

“Right.”

In the locker room, the three men peeled off their gear - sidearms, UV flashlights, and bulletproof vests - and showered. On their way out they passed by a couple agents from other teams who congratulated them on their capture. Then they headed for the bunkroom. Unlike Simon, they all had homes to go to, but Captain Isles had made it clear that they were to remain on duty in the building until Finch left their custody.

Matthew had asked both Isles and Simon about Simon’s housing situation before. He received cryptically brief answers from both of them, but he got the picture. Simon had run-ins with vampires on his previous team, back when he was a field agent, not a researcher. Some of them got away, and held a grudge. Living in the fortress that was the VIU building was his safest option. Matthew felt sorry for the guy. It couldn’t be easy, living in a basement, unable to leave, waiting for the day the final vampire on his list is captured. Not that Matthew spent a weird amount of time thinking about what Simon might be feeling. Definitely not.

Matthew did his best to get comfortable in a bunk that barely fit him and set a timer on his phone for 45 minutes. Then, unbelievably exhausted, he fell asleep almost instantly; he didn’t even have the energy to wonder what Simon would do when he could finally go outside, and whether Matthew would be there.

~~~

Matthew’s alarm ripped him away from sleep what felt like seconds later. He silenced it quickly, whispering apologies to the groaning and hissing agents nearby it had also woken up. He pulled on his boots and slipped out to the locker room to gear back up, then headed down to the cellblock.

When he arrived he found Amber asleep sitting up on the bench, her head awkwardly flopped to the side.

“Wynn!” he whisper-shouted. She jumped.

“Ss’sleep! What? Shit!” She stood up quickly, almost losing her balance. “I can’t believe I fell asleep!”

Matthew caught her arm to steady her.

“It happens, we were all exhausted. When did you fall asleep?”

“A little while after Finch woke up, I think? He started talking shit so I was trying to tune him out, and I guess I tuned him out too well.”

“He’s quiet now though, huh?” Matthew stepped over to look through the window, and froze, ice running down his spine.

“Amber.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s gone.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth, then shouldered Matthew aside to look through the window.

“No, no no no…” she spun to face him, her big green eyes wide with fear.

“Matthew, he was talking about Simon. Where is he?!”

~~~

“Thanks, Beck, but I’ll stay out of the way.”

Simon waited, but no reply came. He eased back in his chair in front of the communications workstation, taking deep, controlled breaths. He relaxed his hands, and color flooded back to his light-brown skin where it had gone white at the knuckles.

He’ll be locked up. Yeah, he’ll be in the same building, but…

Simon started as Christian's - Captain Isles’ voice came through the radio again, but it wasn’t for him, he was just updating Devon and the driver in the other vehicle. Simon couldn’t listen to it any longer, he ripped off his headset and stood up sharply enough to send the chair rolling away behind him.

Childish. You’re being childish. There’s nothing to worry about.

He walked - walked, didn’t run, didn’t flee - to the elevator and pressed the call button before immediately deciding it would take too long and spinning around to take the stairs. He started down too fast before seeing someone else coming up and slowing down, putting on what he hoped was a pleasantly neutral expression and nodding at them as they passed.

God, be normal. They already think you’re weird.

His pace picked back up as he reached subfloor 3. There were two apartments down there intended to be temporary safehouses for victims. One had been converted into his permanent home. He pressed a shaking hand to the handprint reader and the door silently unlocked. Once he was inside and the door was locked again behind him, he let out a long breath into the dark. His heart slowed. He was safe. No one could get in here unless he let them.

Do what Christain says. Just stay here.

He clicked on the lights. The apartment was tiny, but it was all he needed. To his right was a couch, coffee table, and television, with a treadmill behind the couch and a short, overflowing bookcase on the far wall. To his left was a postage stamp of a kitchen. Straight ahead was the briefest of hallways leading to a bathroom and bedroom. The whole place had scratchy wall-to-wall carpeting, except for the linoleum kitchen and bathroom. This far underground there were no windows, so Simon kept a UV lamp on the desk in his bedroom and tried to read a book under it for a while every evening. He mostly ended up doomscrolling on his phone instead.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep despite being awake for over 24 hours, Simon sat on the couch and opened up his personal laptop that mostly lived on the coffee table (another prime doomscrolling location). He pulled up a VIU training lecture recording and hit play. Only ten minutes in and he could tell the instructor didn’t know what he was talking about.

That isn’t what initiations are for. That isn’t how the hierarchy works. That isn’t what they do with bloodbags at initiations, that isn’t what they did with -

He slammed the laptop shut and pressed his hands to his face.

Breathe. Breathe. (He’s probably upstairs right now) Shut up!

Clearly, he’d picked the worst possible thing to distract himself with. He turned on the television, tuning in to some inane morning talk show. No, that was a lie - the four personalities on Morning With Marissa were like family to him, he’d listen to them talk about anything - fashion, celebrity gossip, the latest kitchen appliance. On that particular morning, the subject was a new self-help book that one of them had written. As he watched, the familiar voices soothed his anxiety, and his eyelids grew heavy.

“- and I swear, two weeks! Two weeks was all it took -”

“Marissaaaa, you’re so kind!”

“Truly, folks, even if you think you don’t need this book? You do!”

“All I wanted was to record my dear mama’s advice to me when I first moved out…”

Sleep crept over Simon before he could stop it. He had hazy dreams of vampires with familiar faces selling him self-help books and overpriced blenders.

~~~

Thump-thump-thump.

Simon awoke, inhaling too sharply and coughing because of it.

“That’s all from us today, tune in tomorrow and see us-”

Thump-thump-thump.

Someone was knocking on his door. Was Christian here? Was he late for work? He’d fallen asleep on the couch again, his button-down and slacks were all wrinkled. He turned the TV off and scrambled to his feet, still half-asleep, and opened the door.

Whoever was on the other side shoved the door inwards, knocking Simon off-balance. He stumbled back, his eyes rising to meet those of Edward Finch.

Edward Finch, in his apartment, closing the door behind him.

No one could get in now.

Simon felt like the blood was draining from his body, like he’d already been bitten. He wasn’t dreaming, and he knew it. Ed’s face was too pleasant, too politely pleased, not the leering horror Simon would dream about. Something about how casual Ed looked kept Simon eerily calm.

“Ed, wh… Why are you here?” Simon asked. His voice was gravely from sleep, which covered the tremors in it.

“I came to see you, of course!” Ed declared, “My good boy.” His eyes squinted as he smiled wide, baring his fangs.

Those words snapped Simon out of his stupor.

Fucking MOVE.

He turned to sprint away into the apartment. There was a panic button behind the television, he just needed to reach it -

Simon felt hands hit his back and he was tackled to the ground, Edward on top of him. Something cracked within him on impact, and pain lanced through his ribcage in a small explosion. Ed grabbed at Simon’s hair, but it was mercifully too short for him to get a grip. Simon twisted, ribs screaming, throwing Edward off to the right, and he heard a thunk and a grunt as the vampire collided with the heavy coffee table. Simon somehow got his feet back under himself and took another desperate step towards the TV, but a cold hand wrapped around his right ankle and pulled it to the side, sending him tipping to the left. He went down and his temple slammed into the edge of the kitchen counter. The crack reverberated through this body like a lightning strike. The room warped, and he felt the floor slam into his back, his spine taking the brunt of the hit this time. A heavy weight landed on his hips, and Ed loomed over him. Simon grabbed Ed’s wrists as they descended towards him, but only succeeded in uselessly holding on as Ed clawed at his shirt, ripping it open and sending popped buttons flying. Ed twisted his arms out of Simon’s hold and pinned down Simon’s wrists in turn. Then he lunged down and bit. Hard.

Simon finally screamed. There would be no neat twin pinpricks of fangs here, Ed’s full set of teeth tore through the skin. It felt like he was actually trying to rip out a chunk of Simon’s trapezoid, not just drink his blood. Maybe he was. Simon’s legs kicked uselessly against the carpet. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. His single cry died out and he struggled to take in new air. Any and all self-defense training he’d taken had evaporated out of his skull. He could feel the blood slowly draining out of his body as his limbs weakened and his vision darkened and distorted with tears.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Not here. It’s supposed to be safe here. Chris promised…

Simon’s thoughts unraveled as staying awake and breathing became his brain’s priority.

After what Simon knew was dangerously too long, Edward unlatched. Simon heard another uncontrollable, weak noise leave his own throat when Ed’s teeth pulled out. Ed shifted to put his face nose-to-nose with Simon, dripping blood onto Simon’s open lips. There was the toothy, gloating grin that Simon would dream about.

“How about,” Edward said slowly, “We see what else we can get up to before the cavalry arrives?”

Simon tried to speak, to say anything, but he could only make shallow, sobbing breaths, and choke on the drops of blood. Edward stood, still holding Simon’s wrists, and yanked him upright. Pain burned through the bite wound and what was likely a broken rib or two, and between that and the blood loss Simon nearly passed out as Ed held him upright, switching his grip to one hand on Simon’s upper arm, confident he would receive no resistance at this point. He started pulling Simon towards the bedroom, and Simon felt a new wave of adrenaline kick in.

No. no no no no no.

Suddenly he saw it, something he could do, even in his weakened state. As he was pulled past the television, he made a controlled crash into the protruding corner of the wall where it turned into the hallway. Out of Ed’s sight, his right hand slid down the wall and hit the panic button.

Nothing happened.

Simon sobbed as Ed tugged him back upright.

“Come on, clumsy.”

Simon tried one last effort of resistance and went completely limp, but that only made Edward pull him back up and hold him with his back against Ed’s chest, one arm around him like a seatbelt. Simon quickly realized this was a far worse, and far more intimate, position to be in. He pawed at Edward’s arm, but it was useless.

“Cozy, hmm? Let’s see here…”

Guessing, Edward opened the bathroom door first. He tutted in disappointment, then opened the bedroom door.

“Here we are!... Wow, you really don’t decorate. I hate what you’ve done with the place.”

He dumped Simon onto the bed. Simon tried to kick his legs and crawl backwards, away, to put any amount of distance between them, but Edward easily pushed his knees down and climbed on top of him. He trailed a hand down Simon’s exposed chest, and the faded lines there.

“Oh, I remember these…”

CRASH!

“SIMON!”

Matthew.

Simon sucked in a full breath, finally, and bellowed, “HERE!” His voice cracked. God, he sounded stupid.

“Oh no!” Edward laughed. “Looks like we’re out of time. Here…”

He leaned down and kissed Simon on the lips. Simon jerked his head to the side, and Edward’s mouth left a long smear of blood across his face, mingling with tears. Then the vampire got up off the bed and calmly walked out into the hallway, his hands raised.

“I surrend-OOF!”

He was tackled by Matthew, quickly followed by Gina. Simon struggled up onto his elbows and watched them tussle on his hallway floor. Then he realized -

They can see you.

They’re all going to see you.

~~~

~~~

~~~

Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @angst-after-dark

[tasia-reader]

i went to look up a clip from family guy and took a good 5 minutes to figure out why "meg home invasion" was bringing me rooster teeth videos

[ghoulofatook]

Short and sweet Vander x female reader smut. Noncon & gun violence. If that ain’t your flavour, don’t eat it. ✌️

[twosentencehorror]

Home alone, you enjoy a nice book and some peace in an old rocking chair.

Glass shatters.

[truthcakes]

The thing that freaks me out still about the break-in is not even the person that got inside. It's the knowledge that they only got in because they tried it and it happened to be unlocked for once. How often do people come by and try the latches, try the locks, but our routine worked this time?

That's what gets me.

[maeattemptsateverything]

Arrest

Émile was running, leaving others teachers in awe and a mess of still ungraded essays in his wake. The headmistress would yell at him later but it didn't matter; he would never have left his job if whatever was happening wasn't important. He ran as fast as he could when he saw the troop’s movement.

The only thing in his mind was the Angel.

He still was too slow, when he saw that the heavy forces had already broken down his front door. The neighbors were already peeping through their windows; surely one of them called. His front yard was a mess, nobody minded to have kicked mud and pebbles into his living room.

The bathroom had the cabinets wide open, his medication on the floor while both the kitchen and his bedroom were being ransacked by armed soldiers. Émile was trying and failing to rescue his mother's delicate china and the clothes his sister chose for him.

The soldiers didn't seem to be getting anywhere near the bookshelf; a hidden entrance his father built long ago. A great relief but a useless one. His breathing was almost erratic and that was not helping his case.

"Could you be the owner of this house?" Asked a blond man standing in the middle of the living room, the Captain, with a smirk on his face but a bored look in his eyes.

“What is this? Are you a policeman?” Asked Émile, the same tone when some student causes mayhem on the back seats.

“I do the questions here, mister” The Captain keept a nonchalant attitude but was clearly tired, not wanting to spend more than necessary with yet another civilian.

“You need a permit to enter a person's house; otherwise it is a crime of trespass” the man let out a surprised chuckle, but quickly fell back to composure.

“Aren't you a funny one? But I suggest you mind your tone”

A small noise came from the basement; the boxes falling. His angel friend tends to knock off things with their antlers, especially if they can't calculate the space when they move. If someone checks the bookshelf…

"What do you want?" Émile feigned annoyance, shielding his rising anxiety with anger.

"Nothing much, just want to check around"

"Well you already did! And destroyed my stuff in the process. So. Get. Out!”

“Sorry mister, but I'm the authority here. Most neighbors had reported suspicious activities coming from your domicile” The living room started to fill with soldiers, at least twenty. Émile tried his best to hide his dread "So if you can be so kind to tell us if you are a thief or a drug manufacturer...”

“That’s bullshit you are talking about! I'm literally a middle school teacher, I couldn't be dangerous if I wanted to!”

“Do you also use that language in front of your students?” Laughed one of the soldiers, the rest followed like hyenas.

“I´m sorry, you seem like such a weak opponent that it's usually one of those two options.” he was not going to lose his temper to people that were a head taller than him.

Émile bit his lower lip, trying to not get paralyzed “You already checked and found nothing”

“Why does your bookshelf have hinges?” he froze in his place, watching how the soldiers inspected the hidden entrance.

And finally went down the basement.

“Wait! You can't go down there!” He tried to reason with the captain, grabbing his armor to slow down his pace.

Only for the captain to slam his head against the ceramic floor. Émile was so astounded by the sharp pain in his temple he almost didn't register the taste of his own blood in his mouth.

“‐nestly”

“W- at?” The captain's voice was deafening, but almost drowned by the high pitch whistle at the same time. He was breathless.

“Answer honestly now” the Captain looked bigger, even if he could only see him over his shoulder by the tail of his eye. The other thing he saw was his left elbow held over the captain's knee. One wrong move and it was going to be bent backwards.

“that may save you from future problems”

“"I ca- I can't” I can't breath

“You are talking, you are fine”

The whole weight of the captain was over him, feeling his own ribs threatening to break and puncture his lungs. He was not fine, he was feeling lightheaded and needed to run away. The noise coming from the basement was growing louder in his ears, screams; his eyes burned and itched, and could not make out the blurred figures that hurried back.

Émile's eyes were frozen on the single soldier that cried while climbing up the stairs. She was all confident when her troop invaded his home, not expecting to find a treath. But she collapsed right in front of him. Her helmet was torn to shreds, the sight of her milky white skull against the bloodied tissue of her eye. Multiple slashes and holes ran through her face; wounds that were fast, angry, desperate.

Scared.

“What. are. you. hiding?”

The commanding yet terrified tone of the Captain above him was a stark contrast.

The house was suddenly silent, the soldiers no longer approaching the basement. Instead they formed a defense around their captain, weapons pointed steadily and fully charged. Émile could only see its boots. Émile already knew what was coming when the creature emerged from the dark. The captain stood at the sight of the antlers and drew out a rifle, pointing at the open mouth.

These creatures are naturally meek, Émile knew this. So the sight was enough to make him crawl away to a corner and hide, instead he was frozen in place when faced with the Angel. Its pose was akin to a claim of surrender; hiding its wings making itself seem smaller, eyes wide open. It was scared, repent; He knew it was not going to attack again.

Maybe the only reason the soldiers were able to empty their cartridges.

An ear-shattering yell reverberated through the room. The Angel was taken down, crawling towards him with a body pierced entirely. It cried in pain still, sounding primal and anguished. Émile was always successful in calming it down, soft touches in its hair while humming calm reassurances.

Now Émile could only watch his friend suffer while himself was paralyzed; not even able to move his face.

“Don't let that thing move an inch! Cut the feathers, tie its hands, I don't care! Just wait for reinforcement and call the director! Don´t kill it yet!” the Captain was shouting, the only sound anchoring him to reality.

“And this one-” he was at the verge of panic; the Captain last order only tipped his balance.

“Throw this bastard in the truck”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Can you hide a feral creature that is at war with humanity in your basement and expect no consequences?

[voidselfshipp]

[cue the proxys trying to break into a house]

Masky: this is the moment where Googly eyes over here tells us they brought a crowbar or something

Observer,who always has a tool at hand: I didnt bring one

Hoodie: Wait wha- why didnt you?!

Observer: because where I would hide it? Up my ass? Yall should do stuff too!

Masky: so how do we break in?

Hoodie:

Observer:

Masky:

Observer: I do have a set of brassknuckles

[carnivorousyandeere]

"Yandere sneaking to your room to tuck you in at night and give you a little kiss, sneaking to the kitchen to put up leftovers you forgot to place in the fridge 🥺

Sneaking to the laundry room to “borrow” your underwear,"

Bae ur really gonna drop that on us and walk away like that??? Leave us hanging??

LOL didn’t feel like going to all the effort of describing how they huff your underwear like a pig looking for truffles or perhaps more accurately, that bloodhound looking for the last traces of your ex after they’d… taken care of them for you while dry-humping their own hand and desperately trying to muffle their piteous whines, but since you insisted there it is ;)

[tau1tvec]

Yeah, brush your teeth in their kitchen sink, that'll teach 'em.

[darkest-depravity]

You sleepily make your way back to your bed from the bathroom at 2am. As you open the door, you flinch in horror as you see the shadowy outline of me. I hit you hard across the face before you have time to react. The force of the blow causes stars to blot out your vision. I hit you repeatedly until you begin to stumble backward. You can taste blood in your mouth. I slip my arm around your neck from behind and constrict your breathing with a flex of my bicep, pulling you back up to your feet. You struggle and claw feebly at my arm, but I tower over you, and you can tell just how much stronger I am than you. Already your efforts grow weaker from lack of oxygen. You feel the cold metal of a knife pressing against your face, and you freeze, your shaky breaths coming in rasps. I laugh softly in your ear and bury my nose in your hair, breathing deeply. "No screaming, little bird. Your best chance of survival is to obey me." I coo softly, stroking your face with my knife. You do nothing for a moment, seeming to internally weigh your options, and then I feel your muscles slacken as you begin to see reason. I smile. Quite suddenly I release your neck and step down hard on the back of your calves, pushing you to your knees. I kick you in the back and send you sprawling onto your face. You feel the heavy leather boot press down on the back of your neck as I crouch down over your body. My hand slides underneath your little night shorts, and you feel me begin to play with your asshole. A little shock of pleasure shoots up your spine, and involuntarily you arch your back and press your ass harder against my hand. "What a lovely night we're going to have together."

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

Words for you:

Combine, medication, bed, and/or concussion

thank you my incredible friend <3 There were A LOT of these to choose from so hopefully you enjoy the ones I picked :)

Combine from the home invasion fic:

An hour later, or at least he thought it was an hour, Jamie sat on the floor of his closet, wrists tied painfully behind his back, ankles tied in front of him. The darkness of the walk-in, his likely head injury and the anxiety of being held captive combined to rob him of any ability to deduce the length of time that’s passed. 

Medication from thought i wanted love ('til you showed me what it was):

Dad arrived shortly with a cheese toastie, medication, water and an ice pack for his ankle as promised. Jamie watched wearily as his father gripped his ankle again, fright shot through him at his father’s hands on his vulnerable limb. But James’ touch was gentle as he wrapped the ice pack around his son’s injury and it should have relaxed Jamie but only made him more leery. His Dad was always suspiciously caring after an outburst after all. As he sat there being the dutiful patient under his father’s watchful gaze, every one of Jamie’s synapses were firing at him, telling him one thing: run.

Bed from earlier in the same fic:

Had he fucked something up? Is that why he was all alone and left to fend for himself and lick his wounds? Jamie shifted in the hospital bed, and agony flared from various parts of his body. His head ached, his jaw, but also just the general pain of a concussion like his brain was being squeezed in a vice. His ribs ground in his chest, sharp and tight. Overall, his entire body was painful, and his shallow breaths came faster as he tried to breathe through the pain. He tried to remember what happened, but it only caused the vice to compress tighter.

Concussion from False Confidence:

Jamie hadn’t made much sense since his concussion, his words the mumbles and slurs of someone with a signifigant head injury. But one phrase came out loud and clear. One phrase slapped Ted harder than a brisk Chicago wind in February.  Precious moment. 

Fudge. 

So Jamie had heard that and apparently been carrying it around since then, the hurt of the careless joke growing with him like a tumour.

[cult-of-the-eye]

I had 4 nightmares in a row today and most of them were tma themed...I've never found it that scary but I guess now I am?? I'm gonna tell you them now:

(these are slightly unsettling btw so check the tags for trigger warnings)

You know desecrated host and confession? Yeah it's just that except I am experiencing what father burrows experienced. Except I kill and skin my little sister and I feel the absolute horror of waking up and realising what I'm doing and somehow it's worse when I realise that I've made my twin sister distraught. Cut to next dream where

I'm running from a burning hilltop house and through some sort of death trap maze thing made out of hedges and while I'm running for my life, terrified, it occurs to me that hey I think I might've listened to a tma episode about this, so I try to remember what happened so I can either avoid/follow that fate. I can't think of anything but for some reason I find a dragon shaped hole in the hedge so I run through that towards another house which is suspiciously similar to hilltop house. It's like a white clinical version and the family is smiling at me and they take me in and make me share a bed with their son. I am extremely uncomfortable and hyper vigilant so I just lie there awake and run away as soon as it starts to get a bit lighter. Cut to next dream where

I'm at home, it's like 9 pm and my dad has called me downstairs. Every day he checks everything is locked before going to bed after I've checked everything is locked cause hes kinda paranoid. Hes about to tell me off cause the front door is unlocked. The door slowly creaks open as we're standing there, showing a humid, dark street, backlit by an orange glow. It's very unsettling and I turn to my dad and shout SHUT THE DOOR SOMEONE MIGHT GET IN!! I then turn around into the house and it dawns on me that someone is already in the house. I know it's a man with a ratty top hat and an even rattier black billowing cloak, hiding in the shadows of our house and I know when I'll find him, he'll be pointing at me. Because of this knowledge, I tell my dad to stay put, because I'm gonna find him and potentially sacrifice myself. He lets me. I comb through the house, looking behind furniture and in every saturated, dark corner and I find him. Hes just as I imagined, pointing at me, with an open mouth, as if he's just about to scream. Cut to next dream where

I am still in my house. It's morning. I am entrusted with the care of a small child (around 7 or 8) and I am told that people are trying to kill her. People are baying at my open front door trying to see her and I tell her to run upstairs, while I block the staircase using my whole body. They're pushing against me and I see the girl peep down and I shout at her telling her to get away, they're gonna get you. The dream cuts away to the next morning. I wake up, feeling hollow. The girl is gone. I know in my heart that she's dead and probably has died a painful death and that I failed but instead all I feel is a sense of relief that I don't have to take care of her anymore.

Yeah so I'm gonna spend the rest of my life thinking about that.

[peridot-tears]

A former German friend of mine accused me of only supporting Palestine because I wish I had been there to prevent imperialism in China.

Um. Yes? So you agree? This is an imperialist project that's needlessly taking Palestinian lives?

(Personal rant, feel free to scroll past.)

[whumpybobbert]

The Flash 1x11

Harrison Wells: Home invasion, revenge, blackmail, collapse

Hartley Rathaway: Chronic pain (does tinnitus count as chronic pain? I feel like it does), threatening innocent bystanders (whumper), burned bloody hands

Caitlin Snow: Betrayal

Cisco Ramon: Betrayal, knocked out (seriously, y'all, he FLEW across the room! It was EPIC!)

Barry Allen: Sonic torture, coughing up blood

[gremlin-writes-angst]

Knowing is Safe CH.2

Chapter 2

Fandom: Redacted ASMR

Couple: Geordi/Cutie

1.9 k Words

90% angst 10% comfort ( I actually did the math)

Intilizised words like this are cutie's thoughts. and the way there formated is important so pay attention ( if you have questions don't be afraid to ask)

Also, the beginning might seem a little confusing because I was trying to keep cutie gender neutral which was hard considering the subject.

For the TW I'm putting a lot of it in a category, still listed but I want it to be clear that the things aren't actually having and are just cuties paranoia and anxiety

TW/CW: Paranoia (Robbery, kidnapping, home invasion, intruder, murder, death, blood, being followed, being stalked, being attacked, abandonment)Cursing. Hinted homophobia and transphobia. slef doubt and hatred.

Let me know if I missed a trigger or if you spot any spelling mistakes.

Feedback is encouraged  

Click here if you want to see more of my work and follow me for more!!!

PAST

You looked at the page, unsure why it was so enticing. One of the people looked like you. Or what you want to look like.

Beautiful!

Handsome!

Cool!

Confident!

The other person, the same gender as the other. They were, attractive, you focused on their lips, the ones connected to who you wish to grow up to be.

I want that.

The love?

The kiss?

the body?

All of it.

You want to kiss someone.

Yes.

Anyone?

I think so…

You could experiment!

Experiment?

Kiss girls!

Kiss boys! 

Kiss people who want to kiss you!

Do people want to kiss me?

There has to be.

I can kiss anyone, of any gender?

I can kiss anyone, of any gender!

I can be anyone, of any gender.?

I can be anyone, of any gender!

If it'll make us happy!

I want to kiss-

“Pumpkin! We need to talk!”

Shit!

Was she listening?

She's always listening.

I hate her.

I love her.

She protecting us.

She's spying on us.

You make your way down the stairs, your mom has a sour look on her face.

“Pumpkin, you can't be having those thoughts. It's umm- those thoughts are not good for you.”

“Why?

“BECAUSE!”

Your father's hand lands on your mom's, calming her.

Thank you, dad.

“Because they lead to… experimenting, and we don't want you to get caught up in that kind of stuff. It’s not for you.”

PRESENT

“Everything’s normal. Human, unpowered normal. Our relationship went back in time, we both kind of ignored that I'm a telepath, that we’re just two normal people in a normal relationship. We’re happy."

No, we're not.

Yes, we are.

We have to be.

For Geordi.

It makes him happy.

So it has to make us happy.

Does it make him happy?

It has to.

“But what about those thoughts you mentioned last week? You mentioned how you don't ever feel safe. Could you elaborate on that?”

He remembered?

Of course, he remembered it was his job.

But we don't want him to.

Then lead him away.

Say it was an accident.

Say it was a lie.

Tell him the truth.

DON'T!!

Tell him you forgot your meds!

“Oh, did I say that? I actually forgot to take my anxiety medication, so we can move on from that.”

He sighed.

Why did he sigh?

He looks disappointed.

I should read his mind.

NO!

Geordi hate’s that.

Hates you.

Just focus on the session.

Wait whys is he on his phone?

He's texting someone.

Does he know?

Is he going to tell someone?

Will I be fired?

I'm gonna be fired.

That doesn't make sense.

They don't trust me.

What if they see me as a threat?

What if they lock me away?

Then Geordi wouldn't be safe.

He'll miss me.

Not if they erase his memory.

They wouldn't.

They would.

If they did it'd be good.

Good?

Geordi would finally be free.

Of you.

Of your powers.

Of the magical world.

You hear that?

What? 

You zone back into the world, hearing your work-assigned therapist clear his throat.

“ Even if that's the case your supervisors have started to take notice of how you've changed. Your paperwork is hard to understand and when speculating on a case you jump to wild conclusions that hurt the case. You're less social than before and you've become very panicked by the smallest things. You've also refused to use your powers. These actions have been recorded by D.U.M.P for the past two months. It's clear to me that your recent mood isn't the cause of missed medication but something else.”

Your breathing rises, you try to steady it, hide that what he's saying bothers you, your thoughts are so jumbled you can't make much out other than panic.

“ And from what you've told me I think the cause is the absence of using your power. Up until 2 months ago, you were in constant use of your power. And from what I understand that was the result of your mother's abuse-”

“She didn't abuse me!”

Did she?

No.

But he's the expert.

He didn't live it.

He doesn't understand.

Maybe that's good.

What?

She was protecting us.

That's what you think.

Because she taught you that.

He's right.

NO, HE'S NOT SHE LOVED ME!!

Yes, she did.

Still does.

But what she did is still wrong.

“I'm sorry for using that word. Let me restart. Your mother raised you with a toxic belief, that you could only be safe if you knew what others were thinking, she used this as an excuse to constantly be in your head, not giving you a moment of privacy. When you applied this belief to your relationship you learned how this belief hurt others, so you tried to stop, cold turkey. This has caused you to become extremely anxious and paranoid. As your therapist, I think you do need to become comfortable in your own head, comfortable not constantly reading people's minds. I would also suggest you talk with your partner, I think couples therapy would benefit your relationship. Oh, it appears that our time-”

You were out of the room before he could say goodbye. You rushed to collect your stuff. You always had therapy right after work so you could leave right after. You rush to the parking garage. 

Car? car!? where’s my car!?!

It's over there.

Where?

I don't see it.

It was stolen.

It was broken into.

No, it's there.

I see it.

 Hurry!

Wipe your tears.

Call Geordi.

No!

Wipe your tears.

Calm down!!

It's not that serious.

Wipe your tears.

You can't drive like this.

Slow your breathing.

Call Geordi.

Ask him to pick you up.

Phone, where?

Purse.

Dial his number.

No contacts are faster.

Wait!

What if the car is bugged!?

It’s not.

But it is!

All your gonna do is call Geordi.

But that's how he knows.

The therapist.

He's listening.

He's not a telepath.

Isn't he?

No, he's a stealth.

So he’s watching.

No!

He's not doing anything to you!

I can't drive.

Take a taxi.

No, I'll be kidnapped.

Train!

Ok.

Where's the train station?

Right.

Left!

I look lost.

You look like an easy target.

There! train station!

Did you lock the car?

Yes.

No!!

Someone will break in.

Steal your car.

I locked it.

No.

You should have driven home.

I can't.

I'm…

Crying.

Not trustworthy.

With? 

My self.

So? You don't matter.

SHUT UP!

People are looking.

No their not.

Read their minds!!

No.

They want to hurt us!!

No.

You missed your stop!!

When!?!

 Just now!!

No.

map! map! map!

I didn't, it’s the next one.

People hate you.

You should run away!

Just start taking random trains!!

No.

Why?

Because people care for me.

Do they?

Geordi-

He doesn't.

My coworkers-

Are just co-workers.

You don't even have friends.

It's our stop!!

Get off!!

Go left!!

Right!!

Are we lost!?!?

No!

I know this place.

Behind you!!!

What!?!?!

Were being followed!!!

Don't look!!!

Read their mind!!!

No!!

Keep walking home.

Grab your pepper spray!!!

I can't find it!!!!

Hurry they're getting closer!!!

There’s another one!!!!

In Front of you !!!!!

They're gonna attack you!!!!!

Hurry!!!!!

I got it!!!!!

Wait

Their friends.

Meeting each other.

Of course.

Stupid.

Stupid.

What a fucking selfish idiot.

Not everything is about you.

Nothing is ever about you.

Wipe your tears!

Look.

Geordi’s car.

He’s home!

Is he?

“Geordi?”

Nothing.

Silence!

He’s not here!!

But his car.

He was taken!!!

He's dead!!!!

You couldn't protect him.

You killed him.

You ruined his life.

No! He is alive!

He's alive.

You yell out for him again, your voice shaking heavily as you walk toward your bedroom door.

Open the door.

Don't!

His dead body is behind that door.

Blood everywhere.

NO!!!

He's here!

He's alive!

I know it!

How? 

I just do.

No, you don't.

You don't even know if there's an intruder in your house.

Is there an intruder?!

No.

Yes!!!!!

How else would Geordi die?

Open the door!

Wipe your tears!

You open the door, relaxing for a second when you find it empty, but then your brain starts working again.

Where is he?!?!?!

He's hurt!!

He ran away.

He was taken!!!

He left because he hates you and couldn't stand to be around a selfish idiot freak

Selfish idiot freak.

Selfish.

Idiot.

Freak.

Unlovable.

Alone.

Alone.

Don't wipe your tears.

You deserve this.

You are a monster.

Monster.

Disgusting.

You're so far in your head you're unaware that your thoughts are now words. Unaware of everything happening around you. You don't hear the door to the garage open of Geordi talking to you.

“Cutie, is that you? I heard you come in, but I didn't hear your car. I passed a farmers market on my way home earlier, I got a deal on your favorite fruit. I went to go grab it from the garage. Where are you? Oh there yo-”

Your trance loosens when you hear a wooden crate fall on the floor, wiping your head around to see your boyfriend quickly trying to get over the fallen boxes. He's rushing to you.

He's going to kill you!!!!!!!

No, he wants to help.

Why?

You ruined him!

Ruined everything!

I love him!!

He loves me!!

He's safe.

He's my safe space.

He not gonna hurt us.

He is safe.

You fall into his arms when he gets close enough, your arms wrap around his squeezing him as you cry into his chest, repeating his name.

“Cutie, cutie? What- what wrong?”

“I thought you were dead. That, someone, broke in, and killed you, and- and I couldn't- I- you were dead.”

“What, babe, what made you think that!? Were you threatened? What happened?”

Geordi tries to look for any sign you were harmed. the movement is sudden, startling you into raising your voice, trying to let out your frustration, trying to shut the voices up.

“I Don't Know! I just - they- I just- nowhere is safe- I can- it hurts! I don't want to hear it anymore- it hurt so much i- I can't stand it- i- please- please help!”

“Okay- okay cutie, why do I do, what do you need?”

“I don't- I don't know-maybe-no I can't -i - but it hurts- he hates it-but it hurts. I-can I? In your head?”

The worry that stained his face started to blend with surprise.

“Yes, yes, go ahead.”

You look into his eyes wanting so hard to just jump into his head, to leave your thoughts behind, but you can't.

Don't.

He'll hate you.

Don't!

He'll hate you!

Don't!!

He'll hate you!!

Don't!!!

He'll hate you!!!

Don't!!!!!

He'll hate you!!!!!

You start to slide down Geordi falls you down, gently holding you, not controlling you just supporting you. You cry harder.

“Ok- ok cutie, I've got you.”

“I just- I don't - I'm so lost- I can't- i- fuck!”

“Shh, it's ok, love- I'm here ok? You don't need to talk. I- you can tell me everything when you- when your calm down and you're ready.”

Geordi gently places his hands on either side of your face, lightly guiding your face to his. You can see how his eyes water and the way his lip quivers.

You did that.

You hurt him.

You try to look away but Geordi prevents that.

“Cutie, don't go there. I don't- I don't know what you thinking but- but don't. Stay here, I've got you. Okay”

You nod as tears sting your cheek hot. Geordi moves his hands, engulfing you in a hug. His arms on your back, moving up and down. You focus on it, the feeling, the sound, focus on Geordi.

He's here.

He's holding us.

He's here.

Here.

Here.

Safe.

Home.

He's home.

He loves us.

Your eyes drift closed, exhausted, you let sleep take over, finally feeling safe enough to be vulnerable.